Daryl was reeling, after Rick's somewhat optimistic- yet macabre, at the same time- toast, Rick had locked his gaze on him and he couldn't help but keep staring into the ex-lawman's eyes, and as someone who avoided eye contact at all costs, he couldn't help but feel a little baffled how instinctual it was to not waver from Rick's intense gaze. However, he felt like he was being stripped bare from his gaze alone, everything he was, is and will be, there for Rick to see- an open book of sorts- all these walls he put up were crashing down, he didn't like the thought, making himself vulnerable to these people- this tough guy act was only that, an act- doesn't mean he was ready for others to know that, yet. Realising his heart was pounding after what felt like an eternity he averted his gaze from the ex-lawman and observed all those around him, they seemed happy, somewhere to maybe call home and Daryl thought maybe luck had gone their way for once.
…
For lack of a better word, Rick was transfixed, and shocked, Daryl and him had their eyes locked on each other without aversion for a minute at least, and Rick had to conceal his shock that the hunter hadn't started biting an errant thumbnail and averted his gaze to the ground within the first five seconds of whatever it was they were currently engaging in. Daryl's eyes wavered and Rick noticed his eyes observing everyone else and the closest thing to a smile Rick has ever seen appeared on Daryl's face, Rick almost felt- mournful?- that their intense staring and the electricity at least on Rick's end that came with it had dissipated.
Everyone started making their way to the cells to get some much needed rest, and any thoughts of what had transpired with Daryl were forgotten as Lori directed a pointed look towards him and he just knew she had something to say- "What is it that you want, Lori?"- Her eyes widened considerably not expecting him to be so direct, or brusque. "I don't know, Rick, I just feel since the farm things have changed between us, you're so cold and unfeeling, it scares me at times", this response wasn't anything new to Rick, Lori has told him this many a time, he's never once yelled at his wife during their disagreements, which he silently commends himself for, not Lori though, some masochistic part of her wants the screaming and yelling, wants Rick to feel something, anything! Not turn as cold as the ice in Antarctica; whether or not she'd fucked Shane, their marriage was in trouble way before the world turned in on itself. "What would you have me say? That I'm in a coma after being shot in the chest, wake up to the world's end, miraculously find my way back to you and Carl- and slowly piece together my best friend is fucking my wife"- "he told me"- "I am well aware that he told you I was dead, but you find out I'm supposedly dead and you grieve for me by jumping on the biggest dick you could find?!" Rick was getting hysterical now, "and after everything else that happened, said best friend tries to kill me, and I kill him, and to come back and see it in your eyes that the wrong man came back- it crushed me, Lori", he stares at Lori's protruding belly, "and I'll never know if that baby is his or mine and it kills me." Lori looks like she's been slapped- this is the most Rick has opened up during an argument in years. "I want to fix this, Rick"- she grasps his hand, "Go to bed Lori, I've got stuff, thangs, it's gonna be a long haul to make this place safe for ya'll and I need to sleep"- he yanks his hand away and stalks off.
He reaches his cell, undresses and settles into the bunk, sleep is futile, it always is- and his mind starts to wander- What was that earlier?! He thinks back to the feelings that were conjured up when he was engaging in that stare off with Daryl- all electricity, static, butterflies and nausea at the same time and he really gets to thinking, the quiet redneck has really stepped up from the volatile at the drop of a hat, in Merle's shadow persona who threw a bunch of squirrels at him to risking his own life to find a girl who wasn't even kin, to seeing the madness Shane was descending into before anyone else, and stepping up when Rick looked like he was about to break from the cumulative pressures their little rag tag group inadvertently placed on him, "Ain't no reason you shoul' do all tha heavy liftin'", echoes in his head, yeah, he thinks, he really is becoming my right hand man, interesting. He eventually drifts off to swirling blue eyes and Daryl's sweaty, muscled arms that somehow always seem to be on display, with the man's evident dislike for any item of clothing remotely resembling sleeves; he snorts at the thought and rolls over.
…
Daryl paces in the guard tower, he volunteered for watch, to try and clear his head, knowing he would keep everyone awake if he paced in the cell block. He thought back to what transpired earlier, locked in a heated staring session with Rick- he remembers his heart pounding and a low, deep heat coil through him- something that hasn't occurred at such an autonomic, physiological level to someone, anyone in a very long time- not since it happened- the single worst moment of his life, and considering the shit he's been through- nothing compared to this.
See, what you need to understand about Daryl Dixon is before a life of manual labour and trauma weathered his looks not to mention the abuse at the hands of his father, was a very stunning boy, shaggy natural blonde hair falling to ringlets at the nape of his neck, high, angular cheek bone, perfect smile without the need for orthodontics, and charisma to boot, his looks stayed with him all the way up until high school- except he started filling out and developed a lean, muscular frame. Anyway…
It was another hot day in Georgia, and Daryl was just glad to be at high school to see Jace, the only thing that made high school not as unbearable as it was. They'd been together a year, but it was hard, the late '80s not exactly an easy time to be gay, in Georgia no less and his old man, but they made it work, stealing kisses and blow jobs in the boys' toilets. Jace loved motorbikes and hunting and Daryl loved Metallica and Guns 'n' Roses, each other's favourite things, they were perfect for one another. One day when school was finished for the day, Jace backed him up against the dumpster out of view and kissed him goodbye. Unbeknownst to Daryl at the time, they had been seen, and it was the last time he would see his love alive again.
Wanting to avoid his daddy at all costs, he jumped in through his window and fetched his crossbow and went to hunt some dinner so his daddy at least wouldn't yell at him for freeloading. He made his way around the wilderness following some squirrel tracks he'd seen earlier, he happens upon a stream and he sees something that doesn't belong there, a mop of blonde hair he'd recognise anywhere- he runs up to the tree and falls to his knees- it's Jace, impaled on a branch, clothes ripped off his body- blood everywhere- and what he sees carved into his abdomen stops him in his tracks- "FAGGOT"- and his penis has been cut off. Daryl notices a slip of paper tucked in his mouth acting as a gag of sorts, "You've been warned, Daryl"- written in his boyfriend's blood and it takes all his might to just not collapse from the pain threatening to tear him apart, he wipes some of the blood off his love's face and he kisses him one last time, before sprinting home running on pure adrenaline alone.
By the time he gets back their daddy is gone, but Merle isn't, "What's wrong, Darlena?" he smirks, "look like ya've seen a ghost, or wait, a blonde with green eyes who just become one"- Daryl can't believe what he's hearing, says nothing, Merle continues, " See, ole Merle saw that Jace faggot all but sexually assault ya, and the bitch that you are didn't fight back, tha's cool, but I thought I'd exercise my brotherly duty and protect ya"- he unleashes a back hand at Daryl so hard he smacks his head on the wall- "see, I'm givin my lil brother the benefit of the doubt- you didn' see it comin'- ain't no Dixon gonna be a faggot, baby brother- but for good measure, I thought, ain' no one gon' look afta you excep' for me lil brother, so I ain' gon' let anyone sexually assault ya and get away with it- but I gots to thinkin' kill the Jace faggot as revenge for what he did to ya, and send ya a message just in case you did like it- Ain't no Dixon gon' be a faggot brother, best remember tha'"- as he stomps down on Daryl's ribs breaking them and punching him until he passes out from the pain.
…
Safe to say he wasn't going to be a pretty boy anymore. See, even though he had always been pretty, his body was marred from his daddy's abuse from a young age, but he never targeted his face, that changed after Merle beat him, as if to "beat the gay away", and their Daddy seeing Merle punch his younger son, all but gave Will Dixon the green light to unleash on the only part of Daryl that hasn't seen a punch, knife, whip or belt- couldn't have at least let me keep my face good lookin'- Daryl thought bitterly.
The expanse of the prison grounds materialise in front of him as he comes out of his trance of memories from yesteryear- at least 20 years old- he smiles ruefully, thinking how he felt tonight was exactly the way Jace used to make him feel.