Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead, wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: This is a response, fix-it sort of fill for episode 4x04 "Indifference."
Warnings: Contains spoilers for all four seasons of the Walking Dead, strong language, probably AU after the next episode airs.
Projections
Chapter Two
"No one's hands are clean anymore, man. Not mine. Not yours. Not your son's," Daryl implored, voice steady despite the fact that his expression was crumbling, gaze turning inward as anger tugged on the corners of Rick's features. It was so close to mania that no one, least of all her, could tell the difference.
"We've all done things, things we regret, things we don't. Things we thought we were doing for the greater good, for everyone, but were really doing them for ourselves," Daryl continued, kicking up a cloud of dirt as one of his heels skidded in the gravel, pacing back and forth - struggling for control.
The vice inside her chest tightened.
"And we have to make peace with that. You did, Carl did. But Carol? Carol you just left - abandoned. Because that's what you do now, isn't it Rick?" Daryl growled, vehement, his tone just shy of vicious as Hershel limped up behind him, a solid presence at his back as the younger Dixon shook his head, sweat trickling down his fringe as the musty afternoon seemed to grow warmer, close.
"You know, a long time ago a man followed me into Atlanta for no other reason than it was the right thing to do. He had more than enough to lose and he was willing to lose it over an asshole, a stranger, someone who, if given the chance, mighta sooner ended his life than thank him for saving it. Where'd that man go, Rick?" Daryl asked, hand coming up, open palmed and gentle as he advanced, closing the gap between them with a slow, loping gait.
Rick stood his ground.
"I used to think we were better off having lost him somewhere along the way – letting him grow up some. Get harder and shit. But you know what? I was wrong," Daryl spat, so close to the other man he could have reached out and touched him. But he didn't.
And that, in itself, was a whole different pile of just plain, god damned wrong. Because in the place of friendly pats and good natured ribbing was a cold, terrible sort of indifference. There was disgust on Daryl's part, expression rife with confusion and betrayal, and a numb, self-assured sort of finality on Rick's.
She didn't like it.
"I'll tell you what, we ain't stronger without him. We're lesser for it. And that shit's on you, Rick!"
"She changed, you don't know-" Rick started, blue eyes watery – watered down as he stepped forward, advancing on Daryl for a moment before he checked himself.
"That's what people do, Rick! That's what this world does. It changes you. Your boy, Shane, me, you, Carol, Hershel, Glenn, for better or worse, we're all different. We're making the same mistakes that people've always done. We learn from them, live with them. What makes her mistakes any different from yours? From Carl's? Why didn't she get the chance to make 'em right? Huh?" Daryl snarled, the strap of his crossbow slackening over his shoulder, sliding down his arm until he was holding it in his free hand.
To anyone else it would have been a threat.
Hell, maybe it was.
Either way no one called him on it.
She looked up, back arching as the mossy-grey brick of the prison rose up behind her. And just like she knew she would, she caught sight of a span of freckles and shaggy brown hair peeking out of one of the windows. Carl was listening through the bars – and honestly, she had no idea how things could get any worse.
"Tell me why!"
The silence was choking.
She saw the decision being made long before the younger Dixon put it to voice. It was reflected in the hollows below his eyes, caught in the frown lines and the downturn of his lips as Daryl swiped a hand through his hair. The man flicked back the strands with an angry gesture, lips pulled back in a silent growl as the decision took shape – a muted sort of rage seething just underneath his skin as he made to speak.
"Oh, to hell with you!" Daryl barked, kicking up an arc of dust as he did an about-face, showing Rick his back as he took off across the yard.
Rick followed him, close at his heels, expression worried for the first time since he'd peeled through the front gates. She could practically see the gears turning. This wasn't part of the plan. He hadn't anticipated this.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm going to get her and I'm bringing her back," Daryl snarled, brushing the man off when Rick strayed a bit too close.
The others trailed in their wake, uncertain. Looking for guidance at a time when the two people they'd so often turned to seemed ill-fit to provide it. She met Daryl's eyes through the fray, keeping pace with him from across the short distance, waiting for affirmation before the man finally nodded.
The movement was subtle; more of a jut of the chin than anything else, but it was enough. It was the kind of look that said: "be careful, take care of yourself, I'll be fine, don't worry, and I'll look out for them," all at once. The set of his lips wavered, if only for a moment, when he nodded, pushing past her as she turned, catching Rick with the flat of her palm – gentle but firm - as the man tried to follow.
She had his back. So long as Daryl knew that, she didn't have to say anything else.
"Get the gates!" Daryl hollered, not even bothering to look as Maggie and Bob hurried to get the chains, dealing with the walkers closest to the main drive as Daryl shouldered the pack he'd left beside the car, tossing in a couple of canteens as he made to leave.
"Now Daryl, don't-" Rick began, but Daryl just shook his head, flicking a sweaty cowlick out of his eyes as he swung his leg over the bike, kicking the starter as the motor thrummed to life underneath him.
"You, out of all people should be able to tell the difference between a bad decision and a bad person, man. We don't just give up on people anymore. Even when they've made a mistake," Daryl replied, voice surprisingly gentle, or at least as close as she figured the man could come to it, as the motor caught and Daryl left the older man in his dust.
Rick just stood there, watching him go.
The man stood vigil long after Daryl disappeared from view. Watching as the sun dipped low in the horizon and dusk slowly fell. The evening meal came and went and more than once she wandered over to one of the windows, letting the cool, concrete chill seep into her skin, watching Rick wrestle with it.
Come nightfall, the man hadn't moved an inch.
And no one, not even Carl, came out to disturb him.
A/N #1: Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! – There will be two more chapters, I got a bit of a brain wave, stay tuned!