Chapter 14: Breaking Inside
Daryl sat motionless beside Rick's body for too many minutes, staring at the sheriff's body. Rick's brains splattered against the wall, Rick's blood on his hands; it was all too much to take. Daryl couldn't seem to process what had just happened for several minutes, his body going completely numb in the aftershock. This wasn't how things were supposed to happen. If anything he was supposed to die while Rick lived on, because, let's face it, Rick was the life blood of the group, and they needed him a lot more than they needed Daryl. But that wasn't the way life worked, not anymore. What was supposed to happen didn't, and vice versa. This, though, was like a stab to the heart without the mercy of a nearly instant death to follow it up.
Daryl's eyes roved over his dead lover's body for what seemed like the millionth time, and he tried to ignore the bullet hole between Rick's eyes to focus instead on the man's still handsome features; even in death Rick was beautiful.
The tears had stopped flowing now. Daryl was too empty inside to cry anymore, too numb to feel anything but shock. He knew all too well that the sorrow and the agony would come later, perhaps when he was breaking the news to the group, or perhaps when he was alone in his bunk that night, holding that fucking cat that everyone loved so much instead of the man he alone had loved more than anyone. He couldn't worry about that now, though; he would deal with the pain when it came, silently and within himself, as he always did; right now he had to force himself to stand, walk to the van, and drive back to the prison.
It was harder than he thought it should have been just to put the distance between him and Rick that standing would, but he managed to get to his feet, even though his legs had about as much solidity as jello. Harder still, to turn his back on Rick and walk those long steps to the car. Every step was a mile, every mile an eternity away from where his soul mate's body slumped against the ground. Finally, he made it to the car; he looked back once at Rick, saying a silent goodbye, then got in the driver's side and headed home.
Thank God Rick had left the keys in the ignition; Daryl didn't think he would have had the strength to go back for them. He started the engine, turned the car around, and got the hell out of dodge as quick as he could. The speedometer showed his speed at going well over 100mph, but he didn't care. He didn't care if a couldn't brake in time to avoid an accident, or if another herd of walkers heard the van speeding down the highway and came racing after him; they would never catch up, not with how fast he was traveling, and he needed to put as many miles between him and Rick's town as quick as he could, because the agony was starting to creep into him now, and he wanted to be back at the prison before he had a major breakdown. He was too focused on going fast, fast, fast to notice, or care about, the tears that had started rolling down his cheeks again; the numbness inside was receding with every spin of the tires, and soon enough there wouldn't be any left to shield him from the sorrow threatening to drown him.
It seemed like hours had elapsed when he eventually made it back to the prison, when in reality it had only taken him about thirty minutes. He barely managed to stop in time for Glenn and Michonne to get the gate open, almost barreling right through it. They could tell something was wrong by how much speed Daryl had pushed into the car, and they opened the gate up as fast as was humanly possible. Daryl waited just long enough for them to give him enough space to pass through, then he slammed down on the gas pedal again, nearly hitting Carl and Fluffers as he rushed into a parking spot.
Glenn and Michonne raised their guns, turning in wide arcs to survey the area around the prison and make sure that no one else was following their van. Carol, holding Judith, as always, Carl, and Hershel crowded around the car, waiting for their boys to emerge and explain what had happened. Everyone gasped when Daryl stepped out of the driver's side, and they realized that Rick wasn't with him.
"Daryl, where's Rick?" Hershel spoke up, his voice gentle.
Daryl closed his eyes and shook his head, not wanting to say the words, but know he would have to sooner or later. He took a deep breath, swallowed the lump in his throat, and said in a timid voice, "Rick's dead."
The group exchanged a glance amongst themselves, and then Carol stepped up beside Daryl, laying a hand on his shoulder. Daryl thought about shrugging her off, but her touch did make him feel slightly better, so he let her stay there.
"What did you say?" Carol whispered as she stared up at him, her wide eyes incredulous.
"Said Rick's dead, Carol. Ain't never comin' back. Gone up to that big pie in the sky to be with Lori again. He's fuckin' dead, and I hadda be the one put a bullet in his head." Daryl's voice rose with both anger and sadness, and he sobbed between words.
Carol gasped, the hand that had been resting on Daryl's shoulder now flying to cover her mouth as she made a noise that was a horrible mixture between a gasp and a cry.
Sorrow flooded everyone, washing them in a tidal wave of grief, and for a while no one could say a word.
Michonne, being one of the stronger members of the group, forced her tears aside. "What happened?"
Daryl merely looked at her, the twin waterfalls his tears had become starting to ebb, before he told them. "Found his friend. Think his name was Morgan. Rick hadda put 'im down, ya know? Then Rick was real sad fer a minute, but he pulled through, 'cause he's Rick. So we turned a corner to go to that damn baby store and boom thirty fuckin' geeks are starin' right back at us. Too far to run back to the car, so we tried'a fight, but we got separated. I was lucky 'nough to have space behind me to back up n' reload n' such, but Rick, he got pressed right up 'gainst a buildin'. Freaks started pilin' up on 'im, n' he couldn't reload his gun, y'know? So he starts tryin'a fight 'em off with just his knife. Son'bitch gits bit an' scratched all to hell. I managed to git over there n' help 'im out, but it was too late, ya know, 'cause they'd already ripped him half t'shreds. He's weak, dyin' right there on the sidewalk, tells me I gotta shoot 'im, 'cause he don't wanna come back as no walker. So we said our goodbyes, n' I propped him up 'gainst the buildin', and he closed his eyes, n' I shot him, right in the fuckin' forehead, and he just slumped 'gainst the wall, n' that was the end of it."
More silence now, everyone trying to process this information in their own way, and then Carl steps up, tears springing into his eyes. He's dropped the cat, and is instead clutching his dad's sheriff hat too tightly to his chest; the hat's wrinkled and crushed now, but Carl doesn't care, because it doesn't matter now. He walks over to Daryl's side and looks up at him with eyes filled with too much grief for Daryl to bear. In Carl's eyes you can see his soul breaking into a million tiny pieces, and Daryl knows that the right thing to do here is just pull the boy into a tight embrace, so that's exactly what he does.
Carl crumbles right there against Daryl's side, his sobs echoing throughout the prison. "I never got to tell him that I accepted him. I never told him that no matter who he chose to love I'd always love him, because he's my dad. He died thinking I hated him. I'm sorry, Daryl. I should have told you both sooner. I accept you. I'm so, so sorry." Carl buries his face into Daryl's dirty angel wing vest, his tears soaking through the fabric.
Daryl chokes up as he rubs Carl's back. "S'alright, kiddo. He knew you loved him. He loved you, too." He doesn't know what else to tell the boy, so he just stands there and lets Carl cry on him.
"What… What does he mean he accept you? What's he talking about?" Carol takes a step toward them, the confusion clear on her face. She's not one to pry, but this seems like an important detail that's been left out.
"We were gay fer each other, a'right." Daryl snaps at her. He tries to rein in the anger so that he can continue, but it doesn't work out too well. "He loved me, n' I loved him. There was somethin' about him that I couldn't not love, ya know? Like we were 'sposed to be together." Daryl shakes his head, turning his gaze away from hers.
Carol stifles a sob, all of the pieces falling into place now. It makes sense why he couldn't love her, or return her kiss that day in his perch, but that doesn't lessen her pain any, because she knows she will always love him in such a hopeless way.
No one says anything after that. They all just trickle into the prison to tell Beth and Maggie the horrible news.
Daryl sits alone in his cell, staring out the window, just like he always does, Fluffers curled up on the sheets next to him. He strokes the cat's fur idly from time to time, but mostly he just thinks about everything that happened that day, and everything he could have done to save Rick. It should have been him who died, but it wasn't, and he thinks that maybe he could have prevented what happened, even though he knows he couldn't.
The agony has come; now he's breaking inside, and he can't do anything but be drowned in his sorrow. He cries silently, not wanting to wake the others, even though the sobs wrack his body, causing him to curl into a tight ball on the mattress as his frame shakes violently with his cries.
There's a knock on his wall, and Carol's voice softly calls, "Daryl?" He doesn't bother to answer, just invites her in with a wave of his hand. She knows better than to say anything, especially since nothing she can say will make him feel any better. So instead she lays beside him and wraps her arm around his waist, murmuring soft hushes to soothe his cries. He doesn't care that she still loves him, doesn't even notice as she kisses his tears away; all he cares about is that he has her friendship back, and he lets himself melt into her embrace, falling into a restless sleep as she hums to him. All it took for them to fit back together into their best friendship was Rick's death. Daryl knows that somewhere out there Rick is smiling for them, for him, once again, and that's some comfort, at least for the moment.
That night Daryl dreams that he and Rick are in the guard tower, holding hands as they both put guns to their hearts and pull the triggers.