Writings for myself, first and foremost, and for whoever inspires me. For my wonderful muse, who gives me inspiration through the craziest conversations; who has to read everything I write; whose enthusiasm and support never wavers... Lucia, I love you. ♥
you know those feels when you wanna write but you dont wanna write you just wanna have the story be done and made as opposed to you using your real human hands to type it out? anyway yea, that
Somewhere along the way fanart become worth more than fanfic to fandom.
Artists have Patreon accounts where people pay real money to view their art early or to access special pictures like scraps or tutorials.
Whereas writers are expected to produce more and more, faster, for nothing in return. No one wants to see our “scraps” and writers who do provide Tips and Tricks often get crap for “policing” how people write.
And it falls into the prevailing notion that somehow writing is something easy, something anyone can do.
This isn’t an attack on fanartists. You deserve to receive some sort of compensation and accolades for your work. And so do fanauthors.
Writing fic is hard work. Yes, anyone can type out a story, same as anyone can pick up a pencil to draw, but what makes the difference, what makes a good piece is the experience and talent of an author. It’s all the stories no one saw, it’s all the writing books we’ve read, it’s the classes we have attended, all rolled into a package that works weeks, months, years to bring the fandom their fic. Yes we write for ourselves but we also write to contribute to fandom - just like artists do.
We’re just the same - artists and authors - and we deserve the same respect for our work.
Let’s be clear, writing takes for-fucking-ever to do and it’s hard, lonely, strange, isolating, exhausting work. There is no art that is easy to make. NONE. All art is hard and deserves recognition if it has made you feel something or you enjoyed it.
As both an artist and writer, I have to say that I’ve been struggling and asked to write fanfic faster than I can produce, and I’ve been producing more art than fanfics because it is faster and easier to produce and more people come in. It drove me away from writing and honestly it does help when both sides are appreciated. As everyone else said, both take really long to create, and all should be deserved of recognition.
I can say writing is a lot more exhausting than drawing, but that’s my personal opinion.
I’m not saying artists have it easier, you guys legit blow my mind and I worship the ground you walk on
But people pay for fan art while (most) people still don’t consider writing fan fiction to even be a skill.
I’ve STOPPED telling people I write fan fiction because they just roll their eyes and ask if I write anything real.
Like, sorry if my 50k, heavily researched fan fiction with an original plot and excellent dialogue isn’t as “real” as the original six page story you wrote in tenth grade
A GODDAMN MEN. I’m so glad you wrote this OP. Something similar has been pinging around my brainspace for ages and ages and I couldn’t figure out how to say it. It’s like, here, take my soul and my heart and my ideas and my creativity and just *have it*, for nothing. Because I want to talk to you, because I want to connect with you, because we share the same fandom language. And somehow, in the last 3 years or so, Fan Authors have become the strange little hobbyists in the world of fandom, quality doesn’t matter, care doesn’t matter, research and talent and learning about writing doesn’t matter.
Which - if a writer writes a story and no one reads it, does it exist in the fandom? One wonders, and it makes it hard to continue screaming into the void if all you get back is the echo of your own voice, sometimes.
When will you bless us with another story? Just went through all you Norman/Daryl stories and I love your writing. You are truly blessed with your writing skill. But now I'm addicted!
Aww, Nonny, thank you so much! I appreciate your kind words. ♥
Unfortunately, my muse seems to have taken a permanent vacation. I have a caryl piece I started a couple of months back that’s languishing in my drafts and a bunch of notes for other fics but I just don’t seem to have any willpower to actually sit down and work on anything. I even tried writing for another fandom but I can’t even finish that.
So, I’m sorry that’s probably not the answer you were looking for but I hope it’ll come back to me one day.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 5/5
Fandom: Norman Reedus - Fandom
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Norman Reedus/Original Female Character
Additional Tags: Norman Reedus - Freeform, RPF, Car Accidents, Deal with a Devil, Persephone - Freeform, Hades - Freeform, Immortality, Sex, Mutual Pining, Heterosexual Sex, Oral Sex, Mirror Sex, Past Infidelity, Smut, Angst, Dark fluff
This is a special piece of fluff for my darling @alannastara, captain of the sparyl ship, who I love endlessly. Her ship may be small but I know how happy it makes her so I wanted to do a little something as a very belated birthday gift.
Rated PG-13 for language and boy kissing!
Daryl hesitates before stepping out of the shadows and approaching the brightly-lit porch, his ears tuning into the night sounds around him, listening for any sign that he’s not the only one there. The warm night breeze wraps around him, bringing the incessant chirp of cicadas to his ears along with the distant groan of a solitary walker on the other side of the fence. Other than that, there’s silence – the majority of Alexandria’s residents already safely tucked away behind their locked doors – and he breathes out a sigh of relief, eager to remain undetected on his mission. Swiftly, he crosses the remaining distance to the wide wraparound porch and mounts the steps to the front door two at a time. Now that he’s exposed to anyone that might just happen to walk by, he feels a frisson of nerves jangling up and down his spine and he almost turns tail to run from what he’s sure is the most asinine idea he’s ever had when the door is abruptly yanked open and he finds himself looking down the barrel of a raised shotgun.
“Daryl?” Spencer asks in confusion, lowering the weapon and staring quizzically at the man standing on his front porch looking like a rabbit caught in the headlights.
“I know your secret,” Daryl blurts out before he can stop himself and he sees the younger man’s brows knit together.
“Then I guess you better come in,” Spencer tells him slowly, his eyes flicking to the six-pack of beer Daryl has clutched in one fist, tiny beads of condensation trickling down their shiny sides.
Giving a tight nod but not meeting his eyes, Daryl brusquely pushes past him as Spencer closes the door, his mind racing a mile a minute trying to figure out which secret Daryl is referring to and wondering where in the hell he’d managed to score cold beers from.
Without waiting for Spencer to follow him, Daryl heads through to the opulent living room of the Monroe family home and immediately sets about closing all the blinds. Once he’s satisfied they have total privacy, he turns back to find Spencer staring at him from the doorway, a mixed look of amusement and apprehension on his face.
“What’s this all about?” Spencer asks, thinking this may be the longest conversation he’s ever had with the surly archer and, he has to admit, he’s curious as to what could have brought him to Spencer’s door in the first place.
Daryl shuffles his feet, glancing around the room for something other than Spencer to focus on, beginning to wish he’d thought this through a little more rather than just following any half-assed idea that popped into his dumb head.
“Was patrollin’ out here coupla nights ago… saw you n’ Rosita through the windows…” Daryl says quietly, staring at the ugly patterned rug beneath his feet that he’s sure would’ve cost more money than his whole house.
“Ohhh-kay,” Spencer answers, his brow furrowing again and still not sure where this conversation is headed. “Well… we’re consenting adults, you know, and what we do is really none of your business.”
“Weren’t peepin’ on ya,” Daryl spits out, his head snapping up to finally look Spencer dead in the eye and he can feel the heat of embarrassment crawling up his neck and onto his cheeks which just sparks his temper a little. “I ain’t no perv.”
Spencer keeps quiet but raises his palms in a placating gesture, thinking that the last thing he wants to do is piss off the man he knows is more than capable of snapping his 6’4” frame without even breaking a sweat.
“You were dancin’… that fancy waltzin’ or some shit… twirlin’ her. Got me thinkin’,” Daryl mutters, rubbing a nervous hand over his scraggly beard.
“About?” Spencer asks, wondering if Daryl's ever going to get to a point or if this is some new kind of torture technique he’s randomly decided to try out on Spencer where he mumbles at his victim long enough to put them into a daze before he kills them.
“Rick n’ ‘chonne’re gettin’ married in a couple weeks,” Daryl offers as though this is the answer to everything and Spencer starts to get an inkling as to what the other man wants from him and he relaxes a little.
“Ahh, so you want to dance with Rick at his wedding,” he replies, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe.
“No, dude… Michonne,” Daryl splutters, glaring at Spencer but Spencer can’t help but notice the color on his cheeks deepens even more.
“Oh… my bad,” Spencer smiles, unfolding his arms to raise his palms once more, “I’ve seen the way you look at him…”
“Fuck off,” Daryl growls, his hands clenching briefly into tight fists against his thighs. “Rick's like my brother, man.”
“Sure he is,” Spencer says knowingly with a nod of his head, noting that Daryl didn’t exactly deny his accusation but he changes the subject anyway. “So… you’ve never danced with a girl before?”
“Man, look at me… do I look like I spent my time at the high school dance?”
“Fair enough,” Spencer shrugs, feeling the initial tenseness that had filled the room dissipating a little the more they talk. “So what do you want from me.”
“I want you to show me some of those fancy moves you got,” Daryl says quietly, feeling grateful that Spencer’s not laughing in his face at least but still convinced that he’s embarrassing himself for nothing. “Think ya can do that or am I wastin’ my time?”
Spencer takes a moment to look at Daryl, to really study him beneath the gruff exterior and layers of self-defense he’s built up to protect himself with. What he sees is a man who wants to do the right thing and who’s willing to reach out a hand for help even when it goes against everything he was probably raised to believe and Spencer admires that in him. His interactions with the archer had been limited up to this point, in fact he was kind of surprised that Daryl even knew he existed – he was so close-knit with his own group that he had barely acknowledged the rest of the Alexandrians – but he was more than willing to get to know him a little better.
“What’s in it for me?” Spencer asks boldly, stepping fully into the room and snagging the beer cans from Daryl's hand to tear one free and pop the ring on it. “Apart from you bringing me this, of course.”
Daryl eyes him warily, ripping free his own can and sitting the rest down on the expensive oak coffee table, knowing that he barely trusts the guy yet but painfully aware that he needs him if he doesn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of the rest of the group. To say he’s overjoyed at the upcoming nuptials of two of his closest friends is an understatement but, naturally, he’s enthusiastic in the way only he can be which has involved lots of manly back slaps for Rick and even a single hug for Michonne followed by him staying as far away as possible from any and all preparations for the impending wedding. When Rick had asked him to be his best man, Daryl had thought his heart might burst and had agreed without giving one thought to what that honor might entail. He had been comfortable enough with planning Rick's bachelor party but when Aaron had pointed out that his duties extended far beyond that, Daryl had realized that he was going to be on display alongside the bride and groom on their big day and had spiraled into an internal panic about not embarrassing either them or himself. Aaron had intuitively seen what was going on with him and had been secretly steering him in the right direction to get everything taken care of but Daryl had gotten the idea of dancing with Michonne in his head and hadn’t been able to shift it, even though Aaron had assured him that it wasn’t something that he was required to do as best man. Discovering that Spencer knew the type of dancing Daryl had always associated with weddings and knowing that his moves were strictly limited to shuffling his feet while he grinded his hips on some piece of tail in a darkened, smoky bar while he was drunk off his head had seemed like the Fates of the New World were smiling on him for once. He also knew that whatever Spencer’s price was, he was going to pay it just to be able to see the look of surprise on his family’s faces when he took the bride onto the dancefloor.
“What d’ya want?” he asks, crushing the now empty beer can in his fist and scowling again so as not to reveal his desperation.
“Well…” Spencer answers thoughtfully, plucking the empty can out of Daryl's hand before he can toss it over his shoulder like Spencer thinks he's about to do and setting it on the table next to his before he grabs another beer, “for a start, I’m going to have another of these and then…”
“Then?”
“Then I’ll teach you some basics in return for you teaching me how to use that crossbow of yours,” Spencer informs him, smirking as he sees Daryl's fingers close protectively around the strap to the bow that’s slung over his shoulder.
Daryl snorts a little, eyeing Spencer over the top of his beer can as he takes a long draw of the cool, tangy liquid and then wipes the back of his hand across his lips.
“Sure… if you think you can handle it,” he agrees, a slightly mocking tone in his voice.
“Oh, I think you’ll be surprised at what I can handle,” Spencer tells him, just a little irritated at the implication Daryl's making – tired of everyone thinking he’s nothing more than a trust fund baby that needs to be carried through the dangers of the New World. “So… we have a deal.”
“Deal,” Daryl grunts, downing the last of his beer in one swallow and shoving out a hand which Spencer takes immediately and shakes tightly.
“Okay… we need to make some space in here,” Spencer directs, setting down his empty beer can next to the others and rubbing his hands together.
They spend the next few minutes working together to push back the heavy furniture from the center of the room and roll up the dusty rug to reveal the polished floor beneath, both of them grunting heavily and working up a sweat until they’re done. With a suitable area freed up, Spencer rifles through the CDs on the shelf by the player until he finds what he’s looking for while Daryl finds a safe resting spot for his crossbow where it’s still easily accessible should he need it.
When the soft strains of a classic waltz flow from the surround system, filling the warmly-lit room with music, Daryl flinches a little, suddenly feeling more nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. The good buzz he had going from the beers he’d drunk is rapidly burning away as he starts to sweat profusely, his palms wet against the worn material of his pants as Spencer crosses the room to join him.
“We’re going to start off slow, okay?” Spencer says, trying to calm some of the nervousness he can feel pouring off of Daryl. “It’s a really basic move and we’ll walk it first… just follow my lead.”
When Daryl nods, Spencer steps up into his personal space, his hands reaching out to take Daryl's but, as soon as their skin touches, Daryl back-pedals away from him, landing on his ass on the sofa at the edge of the space.
“Bro… you do know you’re going to have to touch her if you want to dance with her, right?” Spencer quizzes him, doing his best not to smirk at the other man’s stricken face.
“Yeah, yeah,” Daryl grouches, slapping away the hand Spencer offers to pull him up with. “You just took me by surprise is all.”
“Sorry.”
“Where’d you learn this shit anyway?” Daryl asks, trying to deflect some of the attention off of him as he comes to stand in front of Spencer again.
“My mom made us take lessons, Aiden and me,” Spencer confesses, stiffening a little at the all-too-recent loss of his mother.
“Only thing my mom ever made me learn was how to make her a grilled cheese sandwich so she wouldn’t have to get her drunken ass off the sofa when her soaps were on,” Daryl tells him, mentally kicking himself for the brief look of anguish that had crossed Spencer’s face at the mention of his family.
There’s a moment of embarrassed silence and then they both laugh and a little more of the tension in the room evaporates. This time, when Spencer raises his hands, Daryl lets him take hold of his own and rest his other at Daryl's waist, adjusting their stance until he’s satisfied. After a brief explanation of the basic move they’re going to make, Spencer counts out the time along with the music and slowly starts moving Daryl around the room, smiling to himself at the way his partner’s eyes are fixed firmly on his feet, his hair hanging forward to obscure his face. After a few false steps, he’s actually surprised at how fast Daryl finds his rhythm, guessing it must have something to do with the natural agility he has when he’s hunting prey and they move around the room at a steady pace.
“Fuck!” Spencer cusses loudly, a sudden realization dawning on him and Daryl springs away from him like he’s been burned.
“What did I do?” he asks worriedly, convinced he’s made some huge mistake that’s going to put an end to this hare-brained scheme before it’s hardly begun.
“Nothing,” Spencer placates him, a sheepish look on his face. “I just realized that I’m leading.”
“Wait…” Daryl says, the scowl returning to his face as he digests Spencer’s words, “you’re teachin’ me the girl part?”
“Well, technically, there’s a leader and a follower so it’s not always necessarily a girl tha-”
“It’s the fuckin’ girl part,” Daryl almost yells, pacing angrily away from Spencer and wondering what Rick will say if he just punches the guy.
“Dude, I don’t have to do this you know,” Spencer points out, raising his own voice a little and folding his arms over his chest. “I could be over at Rosita’s place right now, getting me some tacos, if you know what I mean.”
Daryl turns to glare at him, his desire just to give the whole thing up being pushed aside as a mental image of Michonne’s smiling face pops into his head quickly followed by one of Rick slapping him on the back and telling him he’s proud of him. With a noise somewhere between a grunt and a sigh issuing from his mouth, Daryl squares off again in front of Spencer and holds out his arms. With just a tiny hesitation, Spencer takes them, readjusting their previous positions and they begin again, this time with Daryl making the first move. It’s a disaster from the start, Daryl now feeling completely self-conscious and fumbling every step until he’s sweating like a whore in church and Spencer is wearing a pained expression from the amount of times Daryl has trodden on his toes.
“Fuck it, man, I can’t do this,” Daryl growls in frustration, dropping his hands from Spencer’s and stepping back.
“You just need to loosen up a little is all,” Spencer suggests, feeling a little guilty for setting their lesson off on the wrong foot, so to speak. “Maybe try taking off the 100lbs of dead cow you’re wearing for a start.”
Daryl freezes, giving Spencer one of his patented glares that’s actually starting to not scare him anymore, and then stalks over to shrug out of his leather jacket and hang it carefully on the back of one of the dining room chairs. Spencer tries and fails not to crack up at the reverent way Daryl handles the jacket despite all the mud, blood and who knows what else that’s caked on almost every part of it.
“What?” Daryl snaps, whipping his head back around to look at Spencer.
“Nothing… you want another beer?” Spencer asks, his mouth suddenly dry as his eyes roam the tanned expanse of Daryl's arms revealed by the removal of his jacket and the torn-off shirt that he’s wearing underneath.
He takes Daryl's shoulder shrug as a yes and grabs the remaining two beers from the table before tossing one to the archer who snatches it deftly out of the air and pops the tab to take a long swallow. Spencer finds himself momentarily mesmerized by the way Daryl's Adam’s apple bobs as he tips his head back to drink the beer, looking swiftly away when Daryl catches him staring. To distract himself from the unholy thoughts that are suddenly rampaging through his mind, Spencer goes over to the CD player to restart the disc while he downs his own beer. Although he was having fun with Rosita, Spencer wasn’t naïve, he knew that he was the rebound guy, somebody she could use to throw in Abraham’s face after their break-up and he certainly wasn’t going to let that stop him having fun with anybody else should the opportunity arise. Not that he thought for a second that Daryl would lower his guard enough to confirm what Spencer suspected he already knew about his sexuality based on the longing looks he’d witnessed the archer throwing at Rick when he thought nobody was watching. As for himself, Spencer wasn’t exactly advertising his preferences either – it’s not like the subject came up in general conversation – but he had been open about it with Rosita and she hadn’t found it to be an issue so he was more than happy to spend his nights with such a beautiful woman. That didn’t mean they were exclusive in any sense of the word and both of them had acknowledged their relationship for exactly what it was, which is why he felt no guilt now about the lustful thoughts he was having towards his impromptu dance partner.
“You ever ride a horse?” he asks abruptly, a thought just occurring to him and Daryl gives him a withering stare that conveys exactly how much of an idiot he thinks Spencer is. “Okay… so dancing is like riding a horse.”
“How so?” Daryl asks, wondering what in the hell this damn fool boy is talking about now and wishing he had another beer as he crumples the can and tosses it at the table with the others.
“Well,” replies Spencer, setting down his own beer and moving back to the center of the room to resume their dance positions, nodding to Daryl to take the lead which he does, “you know how an inexperienced rider thinks that you can steer a horse just by pulling the reins in whatever direction you want to go? Well dancing is the same. As the lead, it’s your job to steer your partner in the direction they need to go, to give them the confidence that you won’t guide them wrong even if you’re moving them backwards. And, as any experienced rider will tell you, you ride with your whole body, making yourself an extension of the horse until both of you are so in sync that it can read the slightest motion you make with either your thighs or your fingers and know exactly where you want it to go. Dancing is the same – you have to let your body tell your partner its intentions, small hand squeezes for the direction you’re going to turn, the way you distribute your weight before a step – a good lead can convey all of that with the minimum of effort. See?”
Daryl starts a little, realizing that while he’s been listening to Spencer talk, he’s taken the lead and they have been successfully traversing the floor with no missed steps or squashed toes. He keeps his breathing even, a technique he’s learned over the years to calm his body while he’s hunting, and tries not to focus on what he’s doing, instead letting his body take over as Spencer had suggested. Although he would never admit it out loud, there’s actually something quite relaxing about the ordered steps of the dance and he’s even finding the accompanying music to be quite soothing in its repetition. He finds himself becoming more in tune with not only his own body but Spencer’s as well, surprised at the way they can already move so well together – a fact that he had thought impossible at the beginning of the evening and something that he’s not altogether hating.
“For Pete’s sake, Daryl, stop looking at your feet,” Spencer admonishes him as Daryl nearly steers him into the dining table.
“How’m I s’posed to see what I’m doin’?” Daryl grumbles but he raises his head and flicks his hair back from his face nonetheless.
“You don’t need to see… not like that anyway. Your focus is supposed to be on your partner, your feet will know what to do, trust me.”
With a tiny, disgruntled snort, Daryl attempts what Spencer is telling him, keeping his eyes focused on the taller man’s face while he counts out the steps in his mind, working to move Spencer around with just the lightest of touches. After a few more stepped-on toes – Spencer gritting his teeth but saying nothing – Daryl finally thinks he’s getting it and he even finds himself smiling a little as they move slowly around the floor. Without noticing it at first, he finds that he’s staring into the deep brown depths of Spencer’s eyes, noting the long lashes that frame them, and his gaze trails down over the chiseled contours of his face, his chin covered in a few day’s growth of stubble that just accentuates the hollows of his cheeks until Daryl's eyes rest upon his lips. Unconsciously he licks his own, feelings stirring in him that he hasn’t let free in some time, what with the whole end of the world taking up most of his time these days. As he realizes what he’s doing, he falters in mid-step, a cold sweat breaking out on his palms where they’re pressed against the firmness of Spencer’s waist and the hand he has clasped around Daryl's. Before he can recover himself, he’s stomped hard on the top of Spencer’s foot and this time the other man yowls with pain, stepping back from Daryl and lifting his leg to hop on one foot.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Daryl… are you trying to break my foot?”
I’m sorry, man… it was an accident,” Daryl tells him, feeling simultaneously mortified and guilty, knowing that his wandering mind was at fault here.
Eager to make things right, he steps in to help Spencer over to the sofa with the intention of examining him for broken bones, just as Spencer bends to check out his foot for himself and the two of them clash in the middle. Daryl grabs at Spencer just in time to stop him from pitching to the floor and they stand, clinging to one another, neither one daring to move for fear of exacerbating their situation.
Spencer can feel the heat of Daryl's skin through the thin material of his shirt where he has one hand balled in the front of it and he can smell the archer’s scent, a deep musky odor that reminds him of the woods on a summer’s day and he feels his pulse start to quicken. Daryl's hands are wrapped at Spencer’s waist, one sliding lower to grip at his hip and, as Spencer looks down, Daryl meets his eyes and there’s no other thought in Spencer’s mind than wanting to kiss him right there and then. He brings his free hand up to brush Daryl's unruly hair back from his face, wondering fleetingly what it would feel like to have it wrapped around his fist while they were fucking, and he feels Daryl’s body stiffen under his touch.
Daryl's breath catches in his throat at Spencer’s touch, his immediate instinct leaning towards fight or flight but something in the other man’s eyes has him pinned in place, his body craving the intimacy of that caress despite his brain’s ingrained insistence that it’s wrong. There’s a hundred thoughts running through his mind but all of them are gone in the blink of an eye as Spencer tightens the grip he has on the front of Daryl's shirt to keep him locked in place as he slides his other hand to the back of his neck and leans in to kiss him.
There’s a fraction of a second’s pause before Spencer presses his lips to Daryl's, part of him still anticipating the punch that he's sure is coming his way and the rest of him not caring if it does. But, as his mouth presses firmly against the warmth of Daryl's lips, there’s nothing but the feel of his hands tightening on his waist, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on Spencer’s jeans as a tiny mewling sound emanates from Daryl's throat. Encouraged, Spencer darts out his tongue, flicking it across Daryl's lips, desperate to go deeper and he’s not disappointed when Daryl responds in kind, opening his mouth to press the wet heat of his tongue against Spencer’s.
The hand at the back of Daryl's neck moves up to tangle in his hair, pulling slightly on it and he wants nothing more than to whine loudly at the sheer pleasure he's feeling but somehow he keeps it damped down inside, not quite ready to reveal just how much he wants this. He does, however, pull Spencer closer as their kiss intensifies, grinding his hips against him and feeling Spencer’s jerk against him in response. Their tongues are fighting for dominance, Daryl licking and sucking with a passion that surprises even him, his skin heating up as Spencer’s hands start roaming his body, pushing up under his shirt to rub roughly over his skin. Daryl's brain is misfiring on so many levels he can barely form a coherent thought but, when Spencer’s hand brushes over his burgeoning hard-on, everything suddenly snaps back into focus and he feels an overwhelming panic come over him.
With a primal grunt, Daryl tears himself away from Spencer, leaving him standing there gasping as he tries to wrap his head around what’s happening, his body already in a high state of arousal. He watches silently as Daryl grabs his jacket and his crossbow, hightailing it for the door without so much as a glance in Spencer’s direction and, with a shuddering sigh, Spencer flinches as he hears the back door slam against its frame. Shaking his head, he moves to turn off the CD player which is still churning out its cheerful tunes and then douses the light in the living room before heading through to lock the kitchen door. As he climbs the stairs up to his room, he feels an obvious sense of disappointment but he can’t say he’s really surprised at the sudden turn of events – he knew he was playing with fire from the outset. Slipping between his sheets, he reaches down to wrap a hand around his aching cock, running his tongue over his lips to capture the memory of the kiss they’d shared and, when he comes into his pumping fist it’s Daryl's face that swims in his mind.
Daryl's stands at the back of the Monroe house in the same spot he’d occupied at the start of the night, his mind in turmoil and his body still thrumming with a desire that both thrills him and scares the crap out of him. He hides in the safety of the darkness among the trees, waiting until the lights in Spencer’s house are all extinguished and the throbbing in his pants has faded miserably away before he turns and heads home.
The next day Spencer sees Daryl around the town but they don't speak which is exactly the way Spencer expected it to be and he files it away as an interesting experience but one that he never expects to be repeated. He’s certainly not going to push the situation, sure that Daryl is ready to forget the whole thing ever happened which is why he's surprised when, at 10pm just as he’s thinking about turning in for the night, there's a gentle tapping at his kitchen door and he opens it to find Daryl standing there.
“Can I come in?” Daryl asks gruffly, not meeting Spencer’s inquisitive gaze, wondering if the younger man can hear the rapid beat of his heart from where he’s standing.
“Why?”
“Thought you were teachin’ me to dance.”
“Oh, I figured maybe you were done with that,” Spencer tells him, raising an eyebrow in surprise and now Daryl does glance at him, a look in his eyes that Spencer can’t quite read.
“Did you teach me everythin’ you know?” he asks and Spencer can’t fail to notice the emphasis he’s putting into his words and the double meaning behind them.
“Not even close,” Spencer says, matching Daryl's tone and all its implications.
“Then we ain't done,” Daryl informs him, pushing roughly past him into the kitchen but Spencer smiles to himself as he feels the lingering brush of Daryl's fingers along his bare arm as he closes the door behind him.
Rick is mentally and physically drained by the time they reach their destination, slumped in the passenger seat of the lead car with Aaron behind the wheel and Carl in the back with a, thankfully, sleeping Judith. The late afternoon sun is behind them as they make their way east towards the coast again, its fiery rays shooting amber and white glints of light off of the chrome on Daryl's bike where he is riding ahead of them. From the time they had voted to leave – the group making the decision almost unanimously – it had taken two days to pack up the buses, pickups and cars with all their supplies and then a further, grueling, four days on the road where they had juggled taking care of nine pregnant women, numerous children including two newborns as well as keeping the walkers at bay and praying that they didn’t encounter any hostile groups on their journey. Aaron had wanted to go ahead to let his community know about their imminent arrival and maybe bring back some reinforcements but Rick had quickly vetoed that idea, still not fully sure that he trusted the man and wanting to keep him close by.
Truth be told, he was quite frankly amazed that they had completed their journey pretty much unscathed with the exception of one incident that had left them all shaken along the way. Rebecca – the mother of the last baby born in Deanna’s camp and the last one she had bitten as part of her experiments – had started acting strangely once they were on the road. The baby girl, who was as yet unnamed, had not only survived the crazed She Wolf’s bite but actually seemed to be thriving on it, showing no signs that it had done her any harm at all. Daryl had speculated – because that was all he could do with the unprecedented situation – that the child might just be one of the small percentage of people that have no reaction to a wolf bite whatsoever. That theory had only held up until the child had started to exhibit signs of the wolf, most notably the way her tiny green eyes sometimes glittered like polished emeralds, shining with a light from within. Rick had suspected that the first time Rebecca had seen those otherworldly eyes looking back at her from the face of her daughter is when her grip on reality had started to slide and she had descended into her own personal hell.
Those closest to her had kept a watchful eye on her as her behavior had become more and more erratic, culminating in her having a full-on meltdown while the group was halfway across the bridge, working to clear the rest of the way. She had worked herself up into a state of high anxiety, pacing frenetically between the two parked buses, the baby clutched tightly to her chest as she had muttered to herself about how the child belonged to the devil now and was going to kill them all. Andrea had tried to calm her but she had just become increasingly distressed until she had surprised them all by racing for the bridge’s railing and hauling herself onto the narrow width. Everyone had rushed forward to stop her before she completed her climb, Michonne’s preternatural speed allowing her to at least get her hands on the woman but it was too late as, with a blood-curdling scream, Rebecca had fought against her and plunged from the bridge to crash brokenly against the water below, leaving Michonne somehow holding the wolf-child in her hands. The group had been naturally stunned but, as happened all too often in their world, they had no time to process their shock and grief as Rebecca’s death scream had attracted enough nearby walkers to give them a serious fight while they continued to work on clearing their path and making their escape.
Nether Rick nor Daryl had slept since they’d left the lighthouse and he suspected that Carol hadn’t either but now, as Aaron stops the car and Rick steps out, blinking and rubbing at his burning eyes, he thinks that he might be having another of his hallucinations. The sight in front of him is impressive to say the least, a foreboding stone wall complete with evenly spaced crenellations towering above them at the end of the single two-lane road that leads up to it, stretching as far as he could see in either direction. There are two monstrous towers built from the same rough-hewn stone as the wall, suggesting to Rick that there must be a local quarry nearby, and flanking what can only be a genuine, larger than life drawbridge that is currently pulled up flush in line with the towers.
“Is that a moat?” Carl asks, stepping up beside him but Rick is too dumbfounded to even answer him.
“Welcome to Avalon,” Aaron states grandly, first spreading his arms wide and then signaling to the person on watch in one of the towers. “Not quite what you were expecting, huh? Let’s just say that the architect who had the idea for this place was unique in his vision and more than a little eccentric. It was supposed to be a gimmick… something to draw in men with more money than sense who wanted to feel secure in their homes. An impenetrable defense against the outside world protecting the crème de la crème who could afford the luxury behind the walls.
So, yes Carl that is an actual moat, it’s seven feet deep, ten feet wide and runs around the entire property. I wouldn’t advise getting too near the edge either as you’ll see we have quite the collection of walkers lining the bottom. Just an added incentive to keep out any would-be marauders.”
“Jesus,” Daryl says with a low whistle as he joins them. “Thought you people needed protectin’? Looks like you got that shit covered. How high’s that wall?”
“About twelve feet, give or take,” Aaron replies, and Rick's eyes travel up to its top, noting that there is a copious amount of razor wire attached to the light stone along its entire length.
Rick's ears prick up at the sound of machinery working somewhere beyond the wall and then the drawbridge lowers with a resounding clang, sending his hand flying to the butt of his gun although he doesn’t draw it and he sees Daryl adopting a similarly wary stance. Just before the bridge meets the asphalt in front of them, he realizes that both sides of it have been reinforced with thick steel plating and he feels reassured that not even an RPG will be getting through it anytime soon. The top of the drawbridge nestles snugly into a custom-made groove on the outside edge of the road they’re standing on and, as soon as it’s safely home, Aaron ushers them back into the car and drives them inside, Daryl waiting to bring up the rear once all the other vehicles have passed him by. Rick is out of the car the second Aaron pulls it to a halt, cautioning Carl to wait in the back seat until he gives him the all clear, his eyes roving over the limited view he has of the interior from where they’re parked. He relaxes just a fraction as he senses no immediate danger, whoever is on guard duty not even leaving the tower to greet the newcomers, but he can’t help the trapped feeling he gets when the drawbridge is pulled back up behind them.
“We should head up to the clubhouse,” Aaron tells him, standing in the open door of the car. “I’m sure that Heath has radioed ahead already to let them know we’re here so it’s best we get the introductions over with.”
“Just us,” Rick instructs, his eyes still assessing his surroundings for any kind of threat. “You, me and Daryl… the others stay here for now.”
“Whatever you want,” Aaron agrees with a nod. “You’re safe here, I promise, but I know that you need to see that for yourselves.”
He gets back into the car and Rick walks over to open Carl’s door, holding Judith for a moment while his son climbs out and then passing her back to him with instructions for them to go join Carol in one of the buses and wait for him to come back. Daryl is already climbing into the opposite side of the back seat, his crossbow coming to rest across his knees as he slams the door shut and Rick retakes his position in front. As Aaron restarts the car, Rick's eyes light on a large sign set on two ornately carved posts at the center of a large flowerbed that is directly ahead of them with the road splitting to branch off on either side of it. The dominant image on the billboard is that of a medieval castle, flanked on either side by knights on rearing white steeds, brandishing impossibly long swords while a gaggle of fair maidens look on from the sidelines and, in a flowing font at the top and bottom is the legend: Welcome to Avalon, Where Every Man’s Home Is His Castle. It takes all Rick's willpower not to roll his eyes and leave there and then but he grits his teeth and listens to Aaron do his tour guide bit as he swings the car right and they drive down a one–way street that’s lined on either side with lush green, rolling lawns and well-kept flowerbeds that are a riot of color.
“Over there are the stables, “Aaron tells them with a vague wave of his hand in a southerly direction. “There’s a bridle path that runs around the inside of the entire wall, we use it for patrolling now but it used to be recreational – the community was built with the stables already a part of it but we’ve added a barn for the other livestock in the winter. Some cattle, pigs, goats, chickens… anything we can catch really. We brought in some diggers from a nearby construction site and levelled the golf course to make way for crops… dug out all the sand traps and filled them in with fresh soil… that ruffled a few feathers back in the early days, let me tell you. Everything is solar or wind-powered – I’ll take you up on the wall tomorrow if you like so that you can see the wind turbines offshore, it’s a beautiful sight. We have our own water and sewage system and irrigation set up for the fields… there’s even a swimming pool. Not that we use it much but it’s clean and now maybe there’s more kids, they’ll get more use out of it. The road we came in on is the only way in or out of here… you’ve already seen the wall, nobody’s coming over that. Where the road split, outside at the drawbridge, that leads around the south side of the property and down to the beach… it’s about two miles away and there’s a pretty fancy marina down there just full of boats that the rich pricks used to impress their conquests. There’s also a nice dock built out into the water and the fishing’s pretty good. The whole place is fenced off so it’s pretty secure.”
Rick's head is swimming as his mind tries to keep up with all the information Aaron is throwing at him and his eyes are trying to take in the streets lined with expensive-looking houses they’re now driving through, each of them set on their own spacious lots.
“Were you one of those rich pricks?” he hears Daryl ask from the back seat and Aaron laughs in response.
“No, Daryl… I most certainly was not. I didn’t arrive until a little after it had all started. I was working in D.C. and the military evacuated a bunch of us out here – a few politicians and the like – with the promise that they were coming back… which never happened. This place wasn’t even a quarter full when we arrived… it hadn’t been open that long so not many of the houses had been sold. Gradually more people drifted in and then… it just seemed to stop… the only ones showing up at the gate were the undead.”
The three of them fall silent as the car rounds a bend and their destination appears, Rick hearing Daryl give another of those low whistles as they take in the building ahead of them through the windshield. Avalon’s clubhouse certainly falls in line with the whole medieval theme, Rick thinks as he stares at the light stone walls of the mock castle looming into view, complete with turrets and a portcullis at its ivy-clad entrance. His initial thoughts of it being a defensible location in case of an attack are dashed when he sees that the ground floor is mostly floor to ceiling windows. Aaron parks the car in the nearly empty lot situated to the left of the entrance and the three of them get out to stand before the imposing façade of the building for a moment before heading to the main doors which are flanked by two huge, snarling stone lions each with a massive paw resting on the hilt of a gleaming broadsword. Aaron leads them inside, past the gleaming oak reception desk and under a carved archway bearing a sign for ‘The Round Table Restaurant & Bar’ which, unsurprisingly, is modelled after a large banquet hall. A few of the circular dining tables are still dressed with the startlingly white linens that only high end restaurants seem to be able to maintain but Rick's eyes are drawn past all of the opulent decorations to the small group of men who are gathered in a loose circle at the far end of the room.
The last time Rick had seen Morgan Jones the man had tried to stab him in the chest, his mind barely clinging to reality anymore after the death of first his wife and then his teenage son, Duane. It was a far cry from the man Rick had first met when he had emerged from his coma and left the hospital to a new and frightening world. Morgan and his son had helped him then, given him shelter while they tried their best to explain what had taken place while he was sleeping and they had formed a short-lived alliance. When Rick was ready to move on in search of his family, Morgan elected to stay behind – the presence of his undead wife making him unable to leave without the closure he so desperately needed – and they had parted ways with Rick promising to keep in touch by walkie as long as he could. And he had tried, he really had but there was no response to his morning updates and eventually time and circumstance had forced him to give up, although he had always hoped that the other man was surviving somehow. A chance encounter with him while Rick was on a supply run in his old neighborhood with Michonne and Carl in tow had confirmed that hope but Morgan was no longer the man he’d left - living mostly in his own mind, alone in the world. Somehow Rick had gotten through to him, making Morgan see that he was real and not a figment of his troubled mind and they had had a strange reunion of sorts although, ultimately, Morgan had opted to stay where he was rather than move on with Rick and the others.
Looking at the man in front of him, now turning at their approach, Rick can see a difference in him that’s startling – gone is the haunted look that was clouding his vision and, instead, his eyes are filled with a peaceful calm that seems almost jarring considering the world they both inhabit.
“Rick?” Morgan says quietly, a tone of shocked disbelief in his words but a beatific smile lighting up his face as he walks forward.
There’s a moments pause as they take stock of each other and then Morgan is pulling him in for a genuinely warm embrace, slapping his back before releasing him with his hands still resting on Rick's shoulders and Rick can’t stop the smile from forming on his lips either.
“Morgan,” he replies with a nod and then glances away around the beautifully decorated room that’s lit with the afternoon sun falling through the wall of windows on either side which look out over more manicured lawns and flowerbeds, “you run this place?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Morgan tells him and steps back, dropping his hands to his sides.
“How did you get here?” Rick asks incredulously, weighing up the odds of both of them coming together again after the different paths they had taken.
“Same way you did,” he answers, with a nod at Aaron. “Why don’t we get the rest of your people in here and get you fed and I’ll tell you all about it? Heath said you have quite a large group at the gates.”
“Is that going to be a problem?”
“No… far from it. Everyone is welcome in Avalon,” Morgan informs him and Rick knows that he's being straight with him and he feels his anxiety at this new situation drop down a few notches even though he’s not entirely off his guard yet.
Morgan makes a call to the gate to have the rest of Rick's group brought to the restaurant and another requesting additional people come in to prepare a meal for everyone. With the restaurant becoming a hub of activity, he steers Rick and Daryl towards a booth along one of the floor to ceiling windows and the three of them take a seat.
“We don’t usually eat in here unless it’s a special occasion or we’re having a meeting,” Morgan explains as Daryl rests his crossbow on the tablecloth in front of him, causing the cutlery laid there to jangle together. “Everyone has their own kitchen but the one here is all in fully working order. I figure it would just be easier until we get houses assigned for you guys.”
“Aaron says you have a doctor on site… we have nine women who are pregnant travelling with us. I’d appreciate it if she could take a look at them as soon as possible. It was a rough trip.”
“Of course,” Morgan agrees, pulling out his walkie to make another call. “Nine, you say?”
“Yup,” Rick answers, his eyes roving he room as new faces appear and disappear between the dining room and the kitchens.
“That’s a story I want to hear,” Morgan says, leaving his walkie on the table now that he's made arrangements for the doctor to attend to the women once they’ve been fed.
“Yours first,” Rick tells him, leaning forward to fold his hands together and rest them on the table. “How’d you end up here?”
“You know how they say that fire cleanses everything it touches? Well… sometimes the opposite is true too. When you found me, back in King County, I was lost… following a path that even I didn’t understand and I guess seeing you only exacerbated what was already going on in my head. In the blink of an eye, my world was burning and I had no choice but to move on… even as lost as I was, my survival instinct kept me alive at least. But I sunk lower than I ever knew a man could sink – it no longer mattered if the body in front of me was living or dead, they all had to be cleared and I took down every one with a single-minded purpose.”
“What happened?” Rick asks quietly, seeing the obvious distress in Morgan’s eyes at reliving his tale despite his attempts to hide it.
“I met a man in the woods… a man who my first instinct was to kill so that I could take what he had but, instead, he reached out to me… brought me back from the darkness I was drowning in and made me see that things could be different. It wasn’t as easy as that… it took me a long time to understand what he was trying to teach me and, even then, I still struggled with it. But he was patient and we had nothing else but time so eventually I knew what it was that he was teaching me and I became a different man because of it.”
“He here?” Daryl asks but Rick knows the answer to that before Morgan even takes a breath to answer, can see it in the tight line of his jaw as he draws a breath to speak.
“No, there was an... accident with a walker and he didn’t make it… so I moved on, tried to put what he taught me into practice. I followed you for a while, Rick, I don’t know why… something was telling me that maybe our story wasn’t quite over yet but then, one night, I was taking shelter in an office building when the darndest thing happened. I was up on the roof, had a small fire going in a can to heat up some beans I’d found when I looked across the flames and there was a damn seagull sitting there just staring back at me. Just calm as anything, tilting its head to look at me from both sides, wings folded like it didn’t have a care in the world and it wasn’t sitting on a rooftop in the middle of a state it had no business being in, hundreds of miles from the nearest ocean. So, we watched each other a little more until I realized my beans were smoking and, by the time I’d rescued the pot from the flames, the damn bird was gone. Now, whether it was a hungry man’s hallucination or a fluke of nature, I’ll never know but when morning rolled around and I hit the road again, I was headed for the coast. Eventually I ran into Aaron, out searching for people, he brought me here and that was that… I knew this was where I was supposed to be.”
“And now you’re the man in charge,” Rick states and Morgan acknowledges his words with a bob of his head.
“Let’s just say they were lacking direction when I got here. They’d suffered the loss of some key players and were having trouble coming back from that. I just helped set them on the right road again, that’s all.”
Their conversation is interrupted by the arrival of their group into the dining hall, Rick seeing their tired and anxious faces filling with wonder as they take in their new surroundings and he’s pleased to see that they are being warmly welcomed by Morgan’s people. The three of them rise to join the others, Morgan greeting Carl and Michonne with the same enthusiasm he’d had for seeing Rick and Rick watches as people find seats and the food starts being brought out from the kitchen. He's about to return to the table they had been sitting at when a movement across the room catches his eye and he sees a younger man rushing between the tables, his face set with a determined look. Rick tenses for a moment as he sees him storm to a halt behind Aaron who is helping pass out baskets of bread at the table next to them but then he relaxes as Aaron turns, catching sight of the man, and suddenly they’re locked in a passionate embrace, regardless of the other people sharing the room. Rick grins, sneaking a sly glance at Daryl who is standing open-mouthed as he watches the two men kissing beside them, and then nudges him back to his seat.
“That’s Eric, Aaron’s husband,” Morgan explains with a chuckle, the pair in the middle of the room now whispering intimately together, still oblivious or choosing to ignore the eyes that are trained on them, “and I’m sure Aaron is in trouble for not making him his first stop when he got back after three weeks out on the road.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Rick agrees, recognizing the look on Eric’s face as one he's felt on his own far too often when Daryl had returned from a run.
Rick sits, Daryl close enough to his side in the booth that he can hear the smooth rise and fall of his breath above the animated chatter that’s filling the room to its vaulted ceiling as the two groups get to know each other, and he feels something steal over him – a sense of belonging that he hasn’t felt in a long time, maybe not even at the lighthouse as much as he’d thought of that as their home and he lets himself indulge in the hope that maybe they’ve finally found what they’ve been looking for.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Epilogue
The light rain that had blown in around lunchtime had steadily increased until it was a consistent downpour, the light dimming in the living room until Rick had reached out absentmindedly and flipped on the lamp beside the sofa, its warm circle of light illuminating the book that he had clasped in his fingers. He was lost in the pages, the thriller he was reading capturing his imagination until a noise outside on the porch claims his attention and his eyes flick up just as the door bursts open and a bedraggled-looking Daryl enters, bringing a blast of rain-scented air with him. He quickly shuts the door behind him and shucks his wet boots onto the mat by the door while he shrugs out of his leather vest to hang it on the nearby coatrack. Rick's mouth quirks up at the corner as he takes in the sight of his mate’s rain-slicked bare arms, his skin glistening in the soft light, and the way his plaid shirt is clinging to his torso.
“Raining?” he asks brightly, laughing at the snort Daryl throws his way as he squelches into the kitchen to grab a towel and start roughly drying his hair. “How was the run?”
“Found a stash of weapons in one of the boats ‘cross the bay,” Daryl answers, coming back around the kitchen island to throw himself onto the sofa beside Rick, laying his still damp head on Rick's lap, forcing him to raise his book higher, “along with about a month’s supplies… most of it still good. Guess someone was plannin’ on comin’ back for it but never made it.”
“No sign of people?”
“Not today… nah,” Daryl sighs and Rick reaches out to stroke the damp strands of hair from his forehead, thinking once again how much he likes the haircut Maggie had given him – it reminded him of how Daryl's hair had been back at the prison and it was one of the few memories from that time that he could remember fondly. “Where’s Judy?”
“Over at Tara and Denise’s… they requested a sleepover.”
“Great… she’ll be all hopped up on sugar n’ crankier than a bear with a sore head in the mornin’,” Daryl grumbles, his eyes closing as Rick keeps up the gentle caress against his temples. “Carl?”
“Where’d you think?”
“Enid’s,” they both say in unison, Rick feeling Daryl's chuckle reverberate through his fingertips.
“Carol came by… brought some pie. I made sure Carl left you a piece.”
“Apple?”
“Yep.”
“Guess that means Morgan’s out of the doghouse if she’s bakin’ again.”
“For now at least,” Rick laughs, shaking his head as he thinks of the unlikely and sometimes volatile relationship between their Warrior Queen and the self-proclaimed pacifist leader of their community.
“I saw ‘chonne on the way in… she said li’l Amy has a full set of teeth already… that ain’t normal, right?”
“For a human baby, no, but for a hybrid, who knows?” Rick answers honestly, the young wolf still an enigma to all of them.
It had taken almost three months before they had come clean about the whole wolf situation – three months were they had maintained their secret among their family, slipping out to Shift on night patrols or in the privacy of their own homes – wanting to gain the trust of their new community first and prove that they were no threat to them. They had even debated not telling them at all, although Carol had been uncomfortable with that scenario, wanting their fresh start not to be built on lies from the get go. The women they had rescued from Deanna were still none the wiser about their saviors’ true identities and seemed to form an unspoken vow not to talk about what had happened to them in her camp, understandably wanting to put that behind them now that they had a new life. Their hand had been forced when, during a routine checkup, the hybrid baby that Michonne and Andrea had taken in as their own had suddenly displayed her otherworldly eyes and growled at Denise when she had given her a shot. Naturally rattled by this turn of events, Denise had run shrieking from her clinic, ignoring Tara’s pleas to stop and had blurted the whole story out to Morgan. Rick had arrived in the middle of her freak-out, having heard the commotion two blocks over, and had decided it was time they shared their true nature with their neighbors.
The revelation was met with the outright disbelief that Rick had expected which soon turned to a mixture of curiosity and some fear when they had backed up their words with an undeniable display of what they could do. They had backed away, leaving their new friends with an entreaty to believe that nothing had changed between them, that they were still to be trusted and meant them no harm. Aaron, who had held their secret close to his chest up until that point, had spoken on their behalf and Rick believed that his words had done most of the work in getting the others to trust them. It had taken some time but now, almost a year after their arrival at the gates of Avalon, they were more than just accepted as a part of the community, they had become invaluable resources whose only goal was to keep their people safe.
“Talkin’ of babies… did you see Papa Wolf today?” Daryl asks, cracking one eye open and tilting his head back a little to look at Rick. “How they doin’?”
“Doing good… Maggie is feeling much better now she's over that flu, said she’s ready to get back to work tomorrow.”
Daryl nods, Rick's fingers sliding against the silkiness of his still damp hair and Rick's thoughts turn to the day Glenn had come to them, not long after the birth of his son, tears running down his cheeks as he had begged them to make him into a wolf so that he would always be able to protect his child. They had naturally refused as had Carol and Michonne when he had approached them, claiming that his emotions at the birth were clouding his judgment and he would change his mind after a few days when he realized exactly what it was he was asking them. Glenn didn’t give up, however, making impassioned pleas to all of them every day until, surprisingly, it had been Maggie who had backed him up, telling them that it was what they had both agreed on. So, a week after the birth of his son, Daryl had bitten the one man he considered his brother above all others and they had waited an anxious four days until Glenn had made his first transformation with no complications. His adjustment period, however, had been even slower than Rick's and Daryl had taken great delight in mocking Glenn’s initial lack of coordination on four legs, constantly calling him a late bloomer and the runt of the litter. But he had determinedly improved until he was on par with the others and could hold his own against whatever wolfly challenges they threw at him and Rick knew that Daryl was proud of him despite the endless digs at Glenn’s expense.
“Earth to Grimes,” comes Daryl's impatient voice, interrupting his thoughts.
“Huh?”
“I said, did the desperate housewife come sniffin’ around again today while I was gone?”
“You mean Jessie?”
“Yeah… who else has a man-sized crush on ya ‘n isn’t takin’ the hint?”
“She’s just sad and lonely, Daryl, she doesn’t mean anything by it.”
“Uh-huh… you say that now but how’re ya gonna feel when she’s boilin’ a bunny on ya stove?”
“What?” Rick laughs and Daryl sits up to look him in the eye.
“’s not funny. I seen it happen… woman like that… lustin’ after a married man she ain’t never gonna have… makes ‘em crazy. Maybe I should give her another warnin’ to stay away from ya.”
“Daryl, you pissing on her roses is not a warning, it’s just you making an ass out of yourself.”
“Yeah… well I don’t see you doin’ anythin’ about it,” Daryl rants, pushing up off of the sofa to pace around to the other side of the coffee table Rick's feet are resting on.
“Anybody would think you’re jealous of her,” Rick baits him, trying to keep a straight face because he knows how much their neighbor gets under Daryl's skin with the obvious way she fawns all over Rick even though all of Avalon is quite clear on his and Daryl's relationship status.
“Pfft,” Daryl snorts, coming to a halt across the table from Rick and putting his hands up under his armpits, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “The day I’m jealous of that owl-lovin’ twig is the day they can put me in the ground.”
“Is that so?” Rick asks, carefully slipping a piece of paper into his book to mark his place before laying it on the table beside him and getting up to walk around and stand in front of Daryl. “So you won’t mind that she asked me over this evening to help her move some furniture around, then?”
Daryl growls low in his throat, a guttural sound that has the hair on the back of Rick's neck standing to attention and a dull ache starting deep in the pit of his stomach as he watches Daryl's eyes start to glow. Rick can practically see the steam rising from Daryl's shirt as his body temperature elevates even more when Rick reaches out a hand and wraps it in the wet material to drag Daryl flush against his chest.
“Or… I could just stay home with my husband and you could show me how not jealous you are,” Rick whispers, his eyes never leaving Daryl's but his free hand reaching up under his shirt to ghost over the contours of his abdomen making Daryl inhale sharply between his gritted teeth.
“I could do that,” Daryl breathes out, his eyes still glowing as he tilts his head to look at Rick.
“Then what do you say we get you out of those wet clothes,” Rick suggests, letting go of Daryl's shirt to work on unbuttoning it instead.
He works slowly at the buttons, drawing out the process until he can feel Daryl's skin practically thrumming under his fingertips with the anticipation and then he slides the shirt from his shoulders and lets it drop to the floor. Daryl slowly lets out the breath he’s been holding as Rick's dexterous fingers relieve him of the rest of his clothing and then skim up his thighs to rest on his hips as he dips his head to nuzzle his lips against Daryl's neck. He sucks at the sensitive skin over his pulse point, the taste of rain mingling with Daryl's own musk to make Rick's mouth moisten and he trails wet kisses up his lover’s neck, nipping at his earlobe before capturing his lips in a teasing kiss. Daryl, however, is not in the mood for teasing it seems as he reaches up to slide a hand around the back of Rick's neck and tug his head back so that he can scrape his teeth along the underside of Rick's jaw, pulling aside his shirt collar. He sucks at Rick's skin, hard enough to leave a mark which Rick thinks he won’t let heal, at least for a day or two, just to give Daryl the satisfaction of knowing he’d branded his mate as his own. He hums under his breath, the sound deepening into a reverberating growl as Daryl's sharpened teeth pierce the skin over his collarbone with a sharp pain that he doesn’t find entirely unpleasant especially when Daryl parts his lips to lick at the wound he's created.
“You know,” Rick says, giving Daryl a sly look as he trails his fingers across the tattoo on his chest, “I never dated a blond.”
The growl that emanates from Daryl's chest along with the blazing blue flash if his eyes makes Rick chuckle deeply but his mirth soon fades as he takes to his knees, letting his fingers skim Daryl's torso to end up resting on his hips. Looking up, he finds Daryl staring down at him, his lips slightly parted, and Rick winks at him before teasing his fingers in slow strokes against his skin, moving ever closer to the thick thatch of hair at Daryl's groin. Daryl's growl morphs into a rolling purr as Rick's fingers finally work their way to the base of his rigid cock and he wraps his fist around it to give a light stroke up and down its length. His mouth is flush with saliva as he takes a tighter grip around Daryl's shaft and lowers his head to brush his lips across the tip, his own cock stiffening uncomfortably in his jeans as Daryl's ripe taste explodes across his tongue. Rick sucks at the head, lowering his lips just enough to encase it, rolling his tongue over and around it and flicking at his slit. He can hear Daryl's heartrate and breathing increase and the tiny gasps he's giving just fuel Rick's lust even more – he wants nothing more than to pleasure his mate, it’s all he ever wants, to let him know that he's the one Rick desires above all others and always will be.
Tilting his head back a little more, he slides Daryl's cock all the way into his mouth, sucking tight around him as he feels Daryl's hands land on his shoulders and grasp tight at his shirt. He begins a slow move up and down his length, keeping a firm hand at Daryl's base and sliding his other hand down to tease at his balls. Daryl's grip on his shirt increases, the stitching at the seams creaking in his ears, and Rick flicks his eyes up as he pulls back a little, seeing the pure lust on Daryl's face as he looks back at him from under heavy-lidded eyes, his bottom lip pulled in between his teeth. Rick slides his mouth all the way off of Daryl's cock, his lip quirking up at the small mewl of displeasure from above him, and sits back on his haunches to look up at Daryl.
“Own me,” he says softly, his hands still gently caressing Daryl's skin, “mark me… make me yours.”
Daryl moans as he watches Rick raise his fingers to his mouth and slide the first two inside, coating them liberally with spit before removing them and pressing his lips back to the head of Daryl's cock again to take him deep into his throat. One of Daryl's hands moves from Rick's shoulder to his head, his fingers winding into Rick's curls and holding tight as he begins rock his hips back and forth. Rick lets him take the lead, moving his hand from Daryl's cock to wrap it around his thigh instead, his other hand pushing under him to press his spit-slicked finger against Daryl's asshole and work him open. Daryl grunts loudly above him as first one and then a second of Rick's fingers pushes into him, his hips bucking a little into Rick's mouth. They find a rhythm together, Daryl's hips rocking to slide his cock into Rick's throat while he massages his prostrate, causing a litany of groans and nonsense words to spill from Daryl's lips. He can read the trembling in Daryl's thighs that indicates he's about to come as easily as he could read the book he'd abandoned on the coffee table so Rick increases the pressure in his ass to push him over the edge.
Giving a strangled cry, Daryl pulls his dripping cock from Rick's lips at the last moment but keeping his grip firmly in Rick's hair as he grabs his cock and tugs it to shoot his load all over Rick's face. Rick widens his mouth, catching as much of the salty liquid as he can, feeling it splatter hotly across his skin to drip down his face, his tongue curling out to lick it away when it reaches his lips. Daryl is groaning and panting over him, jerking his cock until he's spent and then his fingers slide from Rick's hair down to cup his face, his thumb smearing the sticky residue from Rick's cheek onto his lips. Rick eagerly wraps is tongue around Daryl's thumb, sucking it with as much enthusiasm as he’d had for sucking his cock and Daryl moans out his name.
“Damn,” Daryl's pants, drawing out the word to an obscene length as he slips his thumb from Rick's lips and staggers back to collapse on the sofa.
“Doing okay there, baby?” Rick grins, grabbing Daryl's discarded t-shirt from the floor and using it to wipe his face clean before tossing it aside.
“Asshole,” Daryl mutters, his eyes half-closing as he rests his head on the back of the sofa.
Rick looks at him, licking at the salty taste of him that’s still on his lips and admiring the way the low light is bouncing off of the sweat-slicked contours of his skin, his glistening cock still standing half-hard against his stomach. Rick quickly strips off his own clothes, breathing a sigh of relief as his hardened cock springs free, and moves to the sofa, climbing on to straddle Daryl's lap and capture his lips in an urgent kiss. His lust is powering his movements, making his kisses rough and wet, teeth and tongues clashing, as his body craves as much of Daryl as he can get. Rick grinds his hips into Daryl's, groaning at the friction on his cock and hearing the slight clink of metal on metal as his dog tag swings from its chain and hits Daryl's. He breaks their kiss, breathing hard as he straightens up and takes the chain around Daryl's neck in his hand, sliding it over his palm until he's holding the tag on the end. Brushing his thumb over the metal, warmed by the heat of Daryl's skin, he reads the word ‘Forever’ as he has a hundred times before and smiles.
“’s still true,” Daryl tells him and Rick looks up from the tag in his hand to meet his eye.
“Sure is,” he replies, dropping the chain back down between them and cupping Daryl's face in both his hands so that he can kiss him again.
Daryl's hands slide around his back, his palms rough on Rick's skin, one hand pushing up into his hair and the other trailing up and down his spine in a maddening caress. As their kiss intensifies, Rick's lips starting to feel raw from the rub of Daryl's stubble against them, he feels his body making subtle changes, the wolf clamoring to couple with its mate. It happened more often than not these days when they were making love, so much so that he barely even notices anymore – it’s a part of him now, as much as the color of his eyes or the curl in his hair and he embraces it fully. Parting his lips from Daryl's he turns his attention to his jawline and down his neck, nipping with his teeth between soft kisses, maneuvering Daryl's body under him until he's half-lying on the sofa. He licks his way across Daryl's chest, stopping to suck hard against each of his nipples, feeling Daryl's body change and grow in tandem with his own. Daryl's nails have become claws against his flesh, raking through the fine hair covering Rick's torso and Rick has to change position to accommodate for their hybrid state. He looks down in wonder at the feral beauty of Daryl's animalistic face from the points of his erect ears to the think mane of black hair falling to his shoulders, his eyes trailing down over the thick line of fur leading from his navel and spreading out to surround his rigid cock. Daryl's lower half has twisted into enormous paws, as has Rick's, which he has drawn up onto the sofa, the thick brush of his tail hanging down over the edge of the seat.
Rick drools at the sight of him spread open before him, his elongated tongue coming out to swipe around his jaw as he moves to position himself between Daryl's thighs. Bracing himself with one knee on the sofa and the other paw resting on the floor, he slides his hand under the back of Daryl's thigh, encouraging him to lift his leg until it’s hooked loosely at Rick's waist. He leans in, guiding the head of his leaking cock to Daryl's entrance, rubbing the tip on his asshole for a moment to slick it with his pre-cum before he pushes forward. There’s the smallest moment of resistance as Daryl throws an arm up around Rick's back, his claws digging deep into his shoulder, and then Rick is inside of him, letting loose a reverberating groan. His body moves of its own volition – or maybe it’s the wolf taking charge – Rick's brain is lost someplace in the sensation of being wrapped in Daryl's heat. Rick thrusts into him, holding onto Daryl's thighs for leverage, his pace becoming more frantic with each roll of his hips. Daryl clings to him, his soft moans and growls filling the air around them and Rick drops his forehead to Daryl's shoulder, deeply breathing in his musk.
“Mine,” he whispers, his words stuttering over Daryl's skin, “mine, mine, mine.”
His teeth scrape Daryl's throat, skimming over his jugular before sinking into his shoulder and he can feel the heat of Daryl's cock pressed between them, painting both of their stomachs with pre-cum. With a muffled roar against Daryl's flesh, Rick comes, pumping his cock deep into Daryl's ass with the heady taste of his blood bursting in his mouth and he's dimly aware of Daryl ejaculating with him, the hot splashes sticking to his skin. His hips buck until his body and mind realign and he loosens his teeth from where he has Daryl pinned beneath him, laving his tongue over the bloodied patch of skin. Easing his cock from Daryl's ass with a gush of cum, Rick raises himself up, seeing the glistening dribbles trickling down Daryl's side from his own pulsing cock and he moves down, his legs trembling a little as the feeling returns, and sets about washing Daryl's skin with his tongue. Paying special attention to his cock, he carefully runs his tongue along the entire length and around the tip until Daryl groans and pushes his head away. Rick grins, licking his lips as he crawls back up Daryl's body, Shifting as he goes, until the two of them are lying face to face in their human forms.
“Yours, huh?” Daryl asks softly, stretching his body more like a cat than a member of the canine family and then curling his leg over Rick's.
“I think that’s what I said,” Rick agrees, laying his hand against the damp flesh of Daryl's chest. “Every damn inch of you… no matter how crazy you make me.”
“Forever?” Daryl murmurs, his fingers toying with Rick's dog tag.
“Forever,” Rick assures him, lifting his hand to tilt up Daryl's chin, tugging a little on his goatee before giving him a light kiss.
“Mmm,” Daryl breathes, laying his head down against Rick's shoulder and staring up at him.
They stay like that, sharing slow kisses and soft caresses, as the day rolls into night and the rain keeps up its endless soundtrack against the roof and windows, thunder rumbling occasionally in the distance.
“You know what this reminds me of?” Rick asks, pulling them both from the doze they were falling into, his mind drifting lazily through the past.
“Hmm?”
“The first night we spent together… you remember… in the garage… with the rain coming down like this.”
“’n that damn narrow sofa with the springs pokin’ in my ass all night.”
“Yeah,” Rick chuckles, his fingers brushing against Daryl's hip in small circles before he makes a small confession, “I was so scared that night.”
“You,” Daryl asks incredulously, tilting his head back and looking at Rick in disbelief.
“Of course,” Rick tells him, surprised that he would ask. “I was petrified that you were gonna take off again the minute I kissed you and not let me find you again. And, when you stayed, I was scared that I was going to make the wrong move and push you away from me so that I’d never know if this would’ve worked out or not.”
“Huh… never knew that.”
“You weren’t the only one scared of rejection, Daryl.”
“Guess it’s a good job you got it right then, Sheriff,” Daryl grins at him, a teasing look in his eye.
“Well if I’d known you’d be leaving the lid off the toothpaste for the rest of my life, I might not have tried so hard.”
“Prick,” Daryl grumbles, giving a half-hearted jab to Rick's ribs with his elbow.
“We’ve come a long way since then,” Rick muses, pulling Daryl closer and laying a kiss on his forehead.
“Uh-huh,” Daryl agrees, snuggling in against Rick's chest and closing his eyes again. “Got a long way ahead of us too.”
Rick nods his head in agreement even though he knows Daryl is already drifting between wakefulness and sleep. They really have come a long way, Rick thinks as he pulls a blanket down from the back of the sofa and drapes it over them, not just in their personal journey which never stops surprising him but in the new world as a whole. When he had awoken in the hospital, every last vestige of the man he was before torn away from him, he had never expected to survive as long as he had, let alone find a place where he truly believed they could start to rebuild the world from. He wasn’t naïve by any means and he certainly hadn’t become complacent behind the relative safety of the Avalon’s monstrous walls. He knew that the world was still out there and that it could be cruel, always poised to take away what he and his family had but he also felt that they were more than ready to challenge anything or anyone that came at them. They had strengthened both Avalon and its citizens with their presence, making sure every man, woman and child with the walls was ready and knew how to fight on a moment’s notice.
This was their home now, he could feel it in his core, and he knew that they would all defend it to their last breath if needed and that thought gave him the comfort to be able to finally sleep at night. That, and the man beside him, now softly snoring against Rick's skin, his face relaxed in sleep into an expression of beauty that Rick had never thought possible in either the world before or after. Looking down at Daryl, he was filled with an unwavering belief that, with him as his mate in both love and life, they could be happy and safe here.
I want to thank @tmd-dump-station for providing so many inspirational pieces of art to help me along my way and for kicking my ass when I was whining! I love you baby. ♥
And thanks to @inkinmytea and @unicornsanddoughnuts for taking time to read over my scribblings and point me in the right direction when I needed it. ♥
I hope you like the way we leave our heroes... yes, it may be schmaltzy and sappy and tied up with a post-apocalyptic bow but, dammit, I thought it was time they got a little peace in their lives. ♥
There’s a low mist hanging in the air, just thick enough to keep Daryl’s speed down on the bike but not enough to have delayed today’s scouting trip and he knows it won’t take long to burn off once the sun gets a little higher. For now, he pulls his poncho a little higher around his throat, more for comfort than for warmth, and checks his side mirror to make sure that the pickup truck carrying Glenn and Carl is still keeping pace with him. His mouth quirks up in a smile as he catches sight of the two of them inside the cab obviously singing enthusiastically along with whatever music they have playing, Carl drumming his hands wildly on the dash in front of him. Daryl turns his attention back to the road ahead, swerving easily around a limping walker which has veered in his direction, and thinks to himself how much he's missed this – their outing today reminding him of all the scouting trips he and Glenn would take while they were back at the prison.
It’s been three weeks since Deanna’s group moved in with them and, even though he's been out almost every day since, the sheer volume of people in such tight quarters has had Daryl on edge the entire time. He was first in line to start organizing their scouting groups, poring over endless maps of the area with Glenn as they decided on, not only, potential areas for finding supplies that they hadn’t yet searched but also possible locations for Andrea’s mysterious hidden community. However, at night, when it was just him and Rick alone in their bed - trying so hard to tune out the sound of everyone else sharing the overpopulated house - he had whispered his confession that he thought the place they were looking for just didn’t exist and he was concerned about how much stock everyone was putting into finding it. Rick had calmed his fears somewhat, telling him that he had faith in Andrea’s beliefs but that, even if she was wrong, they still had to be out there searching for something better for all of them. Daryl had agreed which is why he was out every morning, usually with Glenn trailing him but sometimes one of the others, before the rest of their group had even rubbed the sleep out of their eyes. They had been making progressively longer runs, working their way north up along the coastline from the lighthouse until they had reached an inlet that was too wide for them to cross without heading a good ways inland to get to the first bridge over the waterway.
Today their plan was to search the area surrounding the bridge on the south side of the river, firstly to make sure it was safe to cross but also because they had spotted signs for a nearby Walmart and Babies R’ Us along the way. Daryl wanted to check both of them out in the hopes that they might at least find something they could bring home to make their pregnant companions a little more at ease. As he pulls off of the main highway and onto the sliproad leading to the unassuming brick boxes housing both stores along with a craft store and an electronics store, his heart sinks a little as he sees the fenced off area at the front protecting a small cluster of tents. Somebody had obviously set up camp here at one point, although it looked long abandoned judging by the flapping tears in some of the tent sides and the lone walker that throws itself against the fence at their arrival. He was sure that there would be pretty slim pickings inside the Walmart at this point but he had to hope that not too many people would have been interested in the baby store. He parks his bike on the cracked asphalt in front of the cheerfully painted building and dismounts as the pickup pulls up beside him.
“Let’s do a quick sweep of the outside,” he tells Glenn, swinging his crossbow off of his back as the others climb out of the truck, “make sure there are no surprises waiting for us.”
“We should check the other cars for gas,” Glenn suggests, nodding his head to the grime-laden vehicles that are parked haphazardly beside the sagging fence.
“Think you can handle it?” Daryl asks with a pointed look at the plastic cast on Glenn’s arm.
“Don’t even start with me,” Glenn snaps back at him and Daryl chuckles softly as he pushes past him to grab an empty gas can from the back of the pickup.
“You’re with me, kid,” he tells Carl who pulls his knife out and nods back at him as Daryl leads the way around the side of the two story building.
The building’s footprint is easily 200,000 square feet, with the Walmart commandeering half of that and the remainder split up between the other three stores at the rear, a road on the right leading to another parking lot and another, smaller road leading around to the left and the loading docks. They walk in silence for a moment down the left hand road, beating their way through the straggly undergrowth which has crept up to the side of the building without anybody to keep it in check.
“Dad’s gonna be pissed, you know,” Carl says quietly from behind Daryl as he boosts himself up onto the concrete dock and turns to reach down and help the boy up as well.
“Yup,” Daryl agrees, knowing exactly the conversation he’ll be having with Rick later that day.
“We didn’t even wait until he was up.”
“Left him a note,” Daryl shrugs, checking the first door he comes to and then moving on when it doesn’t budge. “I can handle your old man, don’t worry ‘bout it.”
“Why did you let me come?” Carl asks after another brief silence where they try the next few doors.
Daryl pauses before answering, the truth being that Carl and Rick had been fighting non-stop for the past few days – the boy pleading to be given more responsibilities such as guard duty in the tower and Rick shutting down his every suggestion without question, saying that he needed him to watch over the other kids and that was the biggest responsibility he could have. Their constant bickering had struck a nerve with Daryl and was making him more miserable than he cared to admit so he had decided to take matters into his own hands and give both of them a break from each other. He knew that Rick would be pissed about him not running it by him first and no doubt would worry until they got home, just as Daryl would do in his place but, really, if Carl wasn’t with Rick there was no safer place he could be than at Daryl's side.
“Thought you should be more ‘n just a glorified babysitter,” Daryl says with another shrug of his shoulders, leading them across to the rear of the baby store.
“See… and that’s why you’re the cool dad wher-”
“Don’t,” Daryl says sharply, whirling to face Carl who has to stop himself from walking into him. “Don’t do that.”
“What?” the kid asks and Daryl can hear a hint of the cocksure bravado that sometimes gets the better of Carl’s common sense.
“Don’t pit me against your father, not even when you think you’re jokin’. You have no idea how lucky you are to have a man like that to raise you right. No idea. You should be thankin’ the Lord every damn day that Rick Grimes is lookin’ out for ya. Lot of kids get dealt a shitty hand when it comes to who raises ‘em.”
He moves away a few feet, trying not to let the latent anger about his own family that still reared its ugly head on occasion get the better of him and make him say something he might regret.
“Like you?” Carl asks quietly and there’s nothing in his voice now except for an honest curiosity.
“Yeah,” Daryl confirms without looking at him.
“He beat you?” Carl whispers and this time Daryl does face him again. “I’m sorry… I just… the scars on your back…”
Daryl sighs, dropping down and swinging his legs over the edge of the loading dock to take a seat and indicating that Carl should sit too.
“My old man was a wolf… I told ya that, right?” Daryl starts and Carl nods his head as he slips down beside him. “Well he hated it… don’t know if I mentioned that part. Anyways, when I was born… even ‘fore he knew for sure I was gonna be one too… he said he could tell it was comin’. Course I didn’t know any of that – not what he was or what I was gonna be – not until Merle filled me in later. All I knew growin’ up was that my daddy was a mean drunk and I was never gonna do right by him, no matter how hard I tried. And, believe me, I tried to please him… I really did… every little boy wants his daddy’s approval but all I ever got was the back of his hand or, when things were really bad, the sting of his belt.”
“How come you never healed them… your scars?” Carl asks and Daryl's thankful that he doesn’t see pity in his son’s eyes, only a genuine need to understand.
“’cos most of them happened ‘fore I even turned and the wolf can’t change what’s already there… n’ the ones that came after… well I thought that I deserved them. It took me a long time to realize that wasn’t true. That what he did to me wasn’t my fault. The family I have now… Carol, Michonne, your dad most of all, they helped me see that I’m better than what I was raised to be. Rick's a good man, Carl, better’n you’ll ever know… even when he’s all up in your face n’ you two are buttin’ heads like a pair of ornery mules.”
“He doesn’t listen,” Carl says, a touch of his downtrodden teenager persona creeping into his voice. “I’m old enough to do more around the group than just watch the little lids. You know I can shoot… and hunt… but he never lets me go with you guys. I’m not a kid anymore but he still keeps treating me like one.”
“Yes, you are,” Daryl states emphatically, making sure that Carl is really paying attention to him. “You’re his kid and now you’re mine. That’s never gonna change whether you’re fifteen or fifty. We’re both still gonna be lookin’ out for ya no matter how old ya are. Ever since I met him, everthin’ your dad’s done has been about keepin’ you n’ your sister safe. It’s the thing that guides him in everythin’ he does… even when he’s made the wrong call – and, believe me, he has – every thought… every action he makes is based on how it will affect you. Do you understand that?”
“I guess,” Carl answers hesitantly and Daryl can see he’s mulling over his words.
“No… don’t guess… know it,” he tells him passionately. “There’s not one choice he makes that doesn’t revolve around you n’ Judy… same for me. If he doesn’t want you standin’ watch with a gun in your hand, it ain’t ‘cos he doesn’t think you can handle it, it’s cos he doesn’t want you to have to. He wants you to have a life… not just a fight for survival… that’s why we’re out here lookin’ for someplace better for all of us – so’s you n’ your sister can grow old in peace.
I know you think it’s unfair and he’s bein’ extra hard on you – and maybe he is – but, trust me, you don’t want the alternative, kid, you really don’t. If I can teach you one thing that’s more important than settin’ a snare or firin’ a bow, let it be this… there are men in this world that will never be fit to walk the same earth as Rick Grimes. I don’t think either one of us truly understands just how goddamned blessed we are to have him in our corner, fightin’ for us every day but, if we’re smart, we won’t let him forget how much we appreciate him for even a second.”
With that, Daryl jumps down off of the loading dock, a rustling ahead of them in the bushes signaling the approach of a pair of walkers which he easily dispatches with a bolt to each of their heads. After retrieving the used bolts and wiping them on his pants, he turns back to find Carl watching him, a thoughtful look on his face.
“C’mon,” Daryl says, hoping that at least some of what he’d struggled to convey had penetrated the teenager’s brain, “’fore Glenn thinks we got ourselves eaten.”
They finish their sweep of the perimeter, killing a handful of walkers but finding nothing else amiss – all the side doors to the building are securely locked from the insides. Meeting back up with a slightly anxious-looking Glenn by the vehicles, the three of them arm themselves with flashlights and close range weapons before heading through the broken door into the Walmart. As Daryl had expected, the place has been picked clean and what’s left has been reclaimed by the wilderness outside which has made its way in through a series of gaping holes in the high ceiling. Daryl cuts their recon short – there are a few too many walkers for his liking still milling around inside – and he's grateful to be back outside in the sunshine, the whole situation reminding him a little too much of his fateful run to the Big Spot where he had lost Zach on his watch.
Cautiously entering the baby store, they fare much better, hitting the jackpot with everything on the list of essentials that Glenn has tucked in his pocket. It takes them a couple of hours to load everything into the pickup and there’s still enough left behind that they all agree it will warrant a return trip to collect. Daryl secures the door he had forced open to let them in before mounting his bike and leading them back out to the highway where they can increase their speed now that the sun has burnt away all of the morning mist. It’s not far from their present location to where the bridge is, only about twenty miles, but Daryl keeps a wary eye on his surroundings as they head into a slightly more built up area, ready to signal the others back at the first sign of trouble. As it is, they reach the bridge without incident but that’s when their luck runs out, Daryl killing the bike’s engine at the top of the on ramp as Glenn pulls up beside him.
“Shit!” Glenn exclaims with a low whistle, leaning out of the driver’s window and shielding his eyes to look along the bridge’s length.
Daryl does likewise, taking note that the bridge’s expanse seems to be intact – at least as far as he can see from his limited viewpoint – but that almost every part of it is littered with abandoned vehicles and makeshift shelters of tents and the like. The road in front of them is effectively blocked by two vans parked sideways across the bridge’s two lanes and reinforced with wooden panels to close the gaps. Another group had obviously made this their home for a while, a choice that Daryl would never have made in a million years, but there are no signs of life there now unless you count the walkers wandering between the vehicles.
“I’m gonna take a closer look,” he tells Glenn, starting to undress and toss his clothes over the bike. “You two wait here and stay alert.”
Free of his clothes, Daryl drops to all fours and Shifts, moving swiftly off and leaping easily onto the roof of one of the vans blocking the highway. He jumps down on the other side, making his way carefully between the various parked vehicles, taking out any walkers that cross his path. It doesn’t take him long to reach the other side where he finds a similar blockade although the road on the other side is clear. He doubles back, darting between the slow-moving walkers and coming to a halt back where he started.
“It’d take some work but I think we could clear a way through,” he tells Glenn and Carl as he re-dresses. “Not sure if it’s worth it though. How far’s the next crossing?”
“About ten miles further in,” Glenn informs him, consulting a map that Carl hands him, “but then you’re almost in the heart of the city. We’d have to weigh up which is the better option if we want to keep pushing on up the coast.”
“Yeah… well, we’re not doin’ it today, that’s for sure. Let’s get back and we can look at where we’re goin’ next.”
He’s just climbing back on his bike when he's struck by the feeling that they’re being watched and he pauses, his eyes scanning their immediate surroundings and his nose twitching as he scents the air.
“What is it?” Glenn asks, a hint of concern in his voice.
“Nothin’,” Daryl answers, taking a final look around and seeing nothing out of the ordinary. “Let’s go.”
He starts the bike and they turn around on the ramp, his eyes still darting towards any potential hiding spots as they pull out onto the main road again, the wolf whining in the back of his skull at the lingering feeling that there is somebody other than them close by.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rick is naturally waiting for them the moment they return home and Daryl can see the anger he’s keeping in check written all over his face but he doesn’t let loose until he and Daryl are alone later on.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he demands, turning furiously on Daryl the moment their bedroom door is closed behind them. “Taking Carl out there with you… have you lost your goddamned mind?”
“It was fine,” Daryl answers softly, pulling off his gore-stained pants and dropping them to the floor. “He was fine.”
“Fine?” Rick echoes, incredulously. “Do you have any clue what could’ve happened to him out there? Whatever possessed you to think that this was a good idea?”
“Kid needed a break,” Daryl tells him, shrugging out of his t-shirt and letting it land on his discarded pants. “I’m gonna take a shower.”
“A shower? Wait… we’re not done talking about this, Daryl. This is serious.”
“Then seriously come with me,” Daryl tosses over his shoulder as he pads naked into the bathroom and starts the water running.
He's already washed his hair and is rinsing it when the shower door opens to let Rick slip in behind him and Daryl smiles inwardly to himself.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Dixon,” Rick rumbles, nudging him aside to get under the warm stream of water. “I’m mad at you.”
“Ain’t doin’ nothin’,” Daryl answers innocently, making sure to brush against Rick as he reaches for the bodywash from the shelf. “I had a long day… got dirty… need a shower.”
“Just tell me why you took him,” Rick demands in an annoyed tone, snatching the bodywash from Daryl's hand and squirting it into his own palm.
“Told ya… kid needed a break,” Daryl tells him as the sweet smell of peaches fills the shower stall from where Rick is vigorously scrubbing his chest with the foaming soap.
“What the kid needs is to be safely behind these walls where we can keep an eye on him and not out running around, looking for trouble.”
“Weren’t lookin’ for trouble,” Daryl states, turning from Rick to bend and rub his soapy hands down his thighs, making sure his ass is pressed firmly against Rick's crotch. “We took a simple drive… did an easy in n’ out of two places and came home. No big deal.”
“Dammit, Daryl,” Rick growls, grabbing tightly at Daryl's hips and rubbing his cock against his ass. “You should’ve run it by me at least. You left a fucking note!”
“Didn’t wanna wake ya… you’re so cute when you’re sleepin’,” Daryl smirks, straightening up and turning to reach out and wrap his slick palm around Rick's cock. “n’ Lord knows ya need your beauty sleep.”
“Fuck you,” Rick mutters, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on the wet tiles as Daryl starts pumping his fist harder around his cock.
“If you want,” Daryl answers agreeably, leaning in to scrape his fangs along the underside of Rick's jaw as he puts a temporary stop to the conversation.
Later, with each of them satiated and their still damp bodies curled together in their bed, Rick pauses the slow kiss he's been giving Daryl to look into his eyes.
“Why’d you take him, really?” he asks softly and Daryl can see he already knows the answer but he needs to hear Daryl say it.
“’cos I thought he needed a day without you yellin’ at him,” Daryl tells him honestly and he can see the sting of his words reflected in Rick's eyes, “and I thought he could do with someone explainin’ why you yell so’s he don’t get to thinkin’ that it’s him.”
“Jesus Christ,” Rick mutters, rolling onto his back and pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Is that all I do?”
“Nah,” Daryl reassures him, laying his hand on Rick's chest and rubbing his thumb against his skin, “just the past few days have been a little intense. Everyone’s feelin’ the pressure n’ the kid just wants to pull his weight, that’s all.”
“I’m a terrible father.”
“No… you just want to keep him safe, ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. I do too but he's becomin’ his own man, Rick. You’ve already raised him to be tough n’ smart… now you’re tellin’ him he can’t use what you showed him n’ he’s frustrated is all.”
“I don’t want him to get hurt,” Rick says sadly, lowering his hand to rest it on top of Daryl's.
“Me neither… that’s why we gotta give him a little freedom… else he's just gonna take it for himself and we might not be around to back him up when he does.”
“I hate it when you’re smarter than me,” Rick tells him good-naturedly, squeezing Daryl's fingers.
“Really… think ya’d be used to it by now,” Daryl laughs, leaning up to silence the indignant sound coming from Rick's lips with another deep kiss.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It’s another two days before Daryl can take Rick back out to show him the bridge and pick up the rest of the supplies from the baby store. The unexpected early arrival of a healthy baby boy for one of their new family members had thrown the group into a minor panic until they were sure that both mother and son were doing okay. The birth had just hammered home the urgency of finding a new home so Rick and Daryl had left before dawn to take the pickup back out to collect the rest of the supplies from the baby store before driving inland to the bridge. Before they left, Daryl had spotted Rick and Carl deep in conversation out past the lighthouse, the sight lightening his heart, and he wasn’t too surprised to find his son standing on one of the watch towers by the gate as they drove out. Once they reached the bridge, Rick had assessed the situation and agreed with Daryl's proposal that a way could be cleared so that they could continue scouting for settlements on the other side. Although it would take a little time, he still thought it was a better option than heading into the nearby city and risking running into greater numbers of walkers there. As long as they were already there, Daryl suggested clearing the bridge of the undead which were trapped among the cars so that it would make the work easier when they returned. Shifting into their hybrid forms, they had methodically worked from one end of the bridge to the other, clearing the abandoned vehicles and rotting tents of any walkers and pitching them over the railings into the water below.
Once that piece of work was complete, they had headed home, Rick poring over their maps as they made plans for expanding their search, both of them bouncing ideas back and forth about what would or wouldn’t work as possible places for relocation. The second the gates had closed behind them and they had parked the pickup, Daryl could tell that something was wrong, even before Noah came hurrying over to them, his limping gait not slowing him at all.
“What’s goin’ on?” he demands as the younger man skids to a halt, his eyes glittering with excitement.
“We have a visitor,” he exclaims, nodding his head towards the house.
“Inside?” Rick snaps, the disbelief in his voice echoing Daryl's own concerns.
Neither of them wait for a reply, pushing past Noah to storm into the house, Daryl immediately picking up on an unfamiliar scent in their midst. They enter the kitchen to find a man sitting calmly at the kitchen table, a glass of water before him, chatting with Carol who is seated opposite him. Andrea is sitting on the bench beside him and Michonne is standing in the doorway that leads to the rest of the house, appearing to lean nonchalantly on the doorframe but Daryl can read that her body is on high alert. She’s the one that Rick makes a beeline for, ignoring the man completely who has fallen silent and is looking at the two newcomers expectantly.
“What the hell is this?” Rick demands and Daryl can hear the fury in his words but Michonne just looks serenely back at him. “You let somebody in here while we were gone? He’s not even restrained.”
“Rick… it’s okay,” Carol says calmly, turning in her seat, “we’ve got this.”
“Got it?” Rick practically yells, turning on her and fixing her with an angry glare. “You let a stranger into our home after what just happened and you’ve ‘got it’… are you insane?”
“He’s alone,” Michonne says, raising her hands towards Rick in a placating gesture. “I checked. And he’s unarmed. How much of a threat do you think he is? He approached Eugene and Tara while they were on gate duty. I think you’re gonna want to hear what he has to say, that’s why we brought him in.”
Rick's attention finally shifts to the man at the table who has wisely kept silent up until this point and Daryl takes his first good look at him too. He’s in his mid-thirties – his clothing clean enough to tell Daryl that he must have a camp nearby – dark brown curls topping an open, affable face that’s wearing an understandable look of concern as Rick slams his palms on the table and leans over to stare at the guy.
“Who are you?” Rick asks, his voice low and dangerous but, as scared as the stranger ought to be, his voice is steady when he answers.
“My name is Aaron and I think I have what you’re looking for,” he replies, mustering up a warm smile despite Rick's aggressive demeanor as he glares back at him.
“Rick…” Daryl says quietly, something about the man giving him an unexplainable feeling that they can trust him.
His mate glances at him and Daryl gives him the slightest shake of his head, wanting him to back off just a fraction and Rick straightens up to rest one hand pointedly on the butt of his gun at his hip.
“And what would that be?” Rick directs back at Aaron.
“Sanctuary.”
“Is that so?” Rick asks skeptically, looking at Daryl once more.
“Yes sir,” Aaron confirms and Daryl doesn’t detect anything but the truth coming from him. “Seems like what you’re looking for and where I’m from are one and the same place.”
“How’d you know what we’re looking for?” Rick questions him, throwing an accusing look at Michonne who shakes her head.
“Because I’ve been watching you for a while,” Aaron informs them, almost apologetically, and Daryl sees Rick tense at his confession. “Well I was watching the school technically but I only discovered them just as your people showed up to rescue them so I followed them here. I’ve been observing your group ever since, keeping a safe distance during the day… using, umm, surveillance gear so I could listen in without being discovered.”
“Why?”
“To see if you’re the kind of people we want to join our community.”
“And?”
“Oh I’d say you’re definitely people we want, you’ve already proven that by taking in these women when you knew it would cause you a logistical nightmare. You could’ve so easily abandoned them but you chose to protect them instead. Not many people would do that anymore but your group seems to thrive on doing the right thing.”
“So… tell us about this community of yours. Where is it? How many of you are there?”
“I can do better than that… I can show you,” Aaron says with another of those beatific smiles as he reaches inside his jacket pocket and, to Daryl's surprise, pulls out a cell phone which he switches on and hands to Rick. “Sorry… most people just seem more comfortable with something familiar in their hands and, I have to confess, it’s the one thing from before that I just can’t seem to bring myself to give up on.”
With Rick holding the phone like it’s some sort of ancient relic, Daryl steps closer as he thumbs through a dizzying array of photos of pristine-looking homes set in well-tended landscapes followed by shots of a towering brick wall stretching as far as the camera can capture. There are yet more shots of the town’s inhabitants working in fields and greenhouses and catching fish from a dock beside sparkling water or tending to a variety of livestock.
“You saw these?” Rick asks the others and they all nod before he looks back to Aaron. “Where?”
“About fifty miles as the crow flies… a little more when you take the bridge you guys have been looking at.”
“That was you!” Daryl exclaims, knowing for sure now that he hadn’t been imagining somebody there with them the other day and with a new realization dawning in his mind. “At the bridge… coupla days ago, spyin’ on us.”
“Yes, I was on my way back home to discuss your group with our leader when you caught up with me.”
“Then you know what I am,” Daryl states, the look on Aaron’s face confirming that he’d seen Daryl's Shift at the bridge and the tension in the room edges up a notch.
“I do,” Aaron says steadily, squaring his jaw as he meets Daryl's eyes.
“And you ain’t scared?”
“Do I look stupid to you? Of course I’m scared but I don’t think you’re going to harm me – that’s not who you are. It’s the reason I came back now instead of heading home. I don’t need to discuss it with anyone – we’d be fools if we didn’t want you to join us.”
“And you think your whole community is going to welcome us,” Rick states, leaning over the table again to bring the wolf out in his features, “with open arms and open minds?”
“I’m not sure we have a choice,” Aaron answers, obviously rattled by Rick's appearance but doing his best not to pull back from the fearsome countenance in front of him. “Most of us have been behind the walls since this mess began and we’ve been ridiculously lucky so far. None of us are fighters, not really… we’re lawyers, doctors, engineers and schoolteachers. Sure, we’ve managed to build a thriving community that’s damn near self-sufficient and we’ve managed to keep the dead at bay so far but we haven’t experienced the world out here. We’re weak and, if the day came that we were discovered by a group that wants what we have, then I think we’d be defenseless to stop them. Your people have fought for what you have, I can see it in all of you. And what you are… what you can do… that’s an advantage I’d like in my corner for sure.”
“And what’s to say we won’t ride up to your gates, kill you all and take what you have for ourselves?”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Aaron shrugs, and Daryl finds himself liking this man more and more, something in his earnest nature putting Daryl at ease in a way he doesn’t often feel around strangers. “I’m putting my faith in the fact that you’re good people and that you’re smart enough to understand that the world’s going to end if we don’t make a stand to keep it alive. None of us can do that alone, it’s just common sense.”
“You have doctors?” Andrea asks and Aaron turns his head to her.
“Well… we have one now – Denise – and she’s not technically a doctor but she does have medical training and she hasn’t killed anybody yet. Our previous physician… umm… left because he was… umm…”
“What was his name?” Andrea interrupts him.
“Pete,” Aaron answers, looking baffled at her question and Andrea thumps her fist on the table as she looks around at the others.
“Okay,” Rick says, his face back to normal now, “here’s what we’re going to do. Aaron is going to be our guest tonight – in the woodshed, under guard - which I’m sure he has no objection to, and the rest of us are going to talk this over and decide what we want to do.”
Aaron nods his assent and stands up from the table with Michonne stepping quickly to his side to escort him from the kitchen.
“Gather everyone out by the lighthouse,” Rick tells Andrea and Carol. “I want them all to know what’s going on.’
An hour later and Daryl's head is buzzing from the incessant chatter around him and the seemingly endless questions being thrown at them from the rest of the group, most of which they don’t have answers for. He's seriously contemplating making a run for it when Rick finally holds up his hands and tells everybody that they know as much as he does and he wants them to take the night and think about it. Everyone wanders away, multiple conversations still echoing in Daryl's ears, so he grabs Rick and drags him back to their room so that they can talk in private, taking Carl along with them.
“I think we should go,” Daryl says, once the door is closed behind them and Carl is settled on the bed with Judy on his lap.
“You trust this guy that much?” Rick asks, pacing the room while Carl looks at the cell phone they had taken from Aaron, lifting it out of Judy’s reach as he flicks through the photos.
“I do… I can’t explain it, call it instinct, but I think we need to go with him.”
“I don’t know, Daryl… how do we even know that this place is still intact? Aaron’s been out on the road looking for survivors, a lot could’ve happened since he’s been away.”
“Then we just take a small group… check it out first… then come back for the others once were sure.”
“I hate spreading us thin like that… it could be just what they want. For all we kn-”
“Dad!” Carl says sharply, stopping the conversation dead, his eyes brimming with excitement as he hands Rick back the phone. “Look.”
Rick takes the phone, his eyes narrowing as he focuses on the brightly lit screen and Daryl sees his expression change to disbelief as he studies the image in front of him.
“It can’t be,” he whispers under his breath.
“What is it?” Daryl asks, perplexed, but Rick is already on his way out of the room and striding through the house.
Daryl and Carl, with Judy still tucked in his arms, catch up with Rick as he's swinging open the door to the woodshed and hauling a confused-looking Aaron to his feet while Michonne looks on.
“Who is this?” Rick asks, flicking the phone back on and thrusting it into Aaron’s hands to jab a finger at the screen.
“That’s our council at one of our meetings,” Aaron says cautiously and Daryl can hear his heart racing with fear.
“This man,” Rick says, pointing again to the slightly out of focus shot of a group of men and women seated at a long table that Daryl can now see displayed on the screen.
“He’s our leader.”
“His name?” Rick practically yells in the other man’s face.
I saw a pic of Norman , Jeffrey and Mads together at SDCC and now I can't stop fantasizing about them 3. It would be more than awesome if you could write a super smutty fic with the 3 of them and a girl. Thanks
Hi nonny,
Thank you for your suggestion but that’s not really my thing.
justelliey replied to your photo “Little sketch based on a scene from the rickyI smut story “fade into…”
Oh jeez! I just read this chapter, then clicked on this piece and I swear down I just choked on my mouthful of chicken. The ‘scene’ in the story was hot af and this, well just flipping perfect ��
hehe :D well, it’s a bit different in her story (they straddle the bike and I put them in front of that… pllus there’s some missing things in mine XD) when she told me about that scene I totally misunderstood some details XD
Rick stretches himself on the sand, lowering his front legs and arching his back so that his tail points to the stars, his mouth widening in a long yawn. He grunts as he feels the residual tightness in the muscles between his shoulders, a reminder of the piece of gate that had landed on him during the fight with Deanna’s people. The other scrapes and bruises he had received had healed nicely in the two days that had followed the attack but that one thing was still bothering him – probably due to all the manual labor he’d done in helping to erect the new gates, he thinks as he straightens himself up and gives his body a vigorous shake. Further down the beach towards the rolling waves, he can see Daryl chasing ineffectually after a flock of seagulls that he had ousted from their roosting spot. Rick's tongue lolls out in a canine grin as he watches his mate lunge and snap at the squawking birds which are easily too fast for his lumbering form. With the gates firmly back in place and his family secure once more, Rick had felt comfortable enough to take this run with Daryl, wanting to scare up some fresh game to refresh their supplies. They had left the compound as soon as the moon had risen, both of them eager to let loose a little, and had made short work of killing a brace of rabbits which Rick had carried back in his hybrid form and handed off to Maggie at the gate. Rejoining Daryl back on the road, they had scouted the area for a while, wanting to reassure themselves that everything was back to normal in their small corner of the world and ending up down on the beach.
Rick gives a warning growl as Daryl gives up on his bird hunt and bounds up to him instead, his eyes blazing as he dances around Rick, whining and snapping his jaws in an invitation to come play. Rick huffs out a resigned breath and then lunges forward, catching Daryl off guard enough to pitch him off balance and get a sly nip in at his neck before he turns and races off along the sand. He runs full out, letting the wolf have free reign and feeling the knots working themselves out of his aching muscles, enjoying the sharp tang of the briny air as it flows over his tongue and tickles at his nose. He can feel Daryl's approach even before he makes his move, allowing Rick time to swerve at the last possible moment and avoid his mate’s attack. They race each other back and forth along the beach for a good half hour, neither of them really gaining the upper hand until Rick finally gives in and flops panting to the sand, letting Daryl pin him down and sink his teeth into his scruff. Daryl gives his head a small shake, tugging playfully on Rick's fur before releasing him and moving to run his dripping tongue over Rick’s face and ears instead. With another small growl of annoyance, Rick wriggles out from beneath him and shakes himself once more to try and loosen some of the sand that’s clinging to his coat before he turns and starts heading back up the beach in the direction of home.
Daryl falls into step beside him and they make their way back up the cliffside until they arrive back on the road leading down to the lighthouse. At the top of the rise Rick stops, drawing himself up into his hybrid state as he looks back along the coast road one last time.
“They’ll be fine,” comes Daryl's gruff voice from beside him and Rick turns his head to meet his mate’s serious gaze. “’chonne ‘n Andrea… they’ll be back.”
“Should’ve been here already,” Rick sighs, shifting his weight on his back paws as he glances at the empty road again.”
“Well… technically, they still have till tomorrow,” Daryl says lightly with a small bump against his shoulder and Rick knows that he’s worried too but he’s trying to make him feel better.
“Technically,” Rick replies, allowing himself a small smile as Daryl rubs his shoulder against him again and the friction of his coarse hair on Rick's sends an involuntary shiver down his spine, “but, if they’re not home by lunchtime tomorrow, we’re going after them.”
“Know what ya need, Officer?” Daryl rumbles, pressing his body into Rick's personal space, his eyes glinting in the moonlight.
“What’s that?” Rick asks, his nostrils flaring as he catches the subtle changes in Daryl's scent signaling his growing arousal.
“Somethin’ to take your mind offa things,” Daryl growls, running the tips of one clawed hand down over Rick's chest to his abdomen.
“You got something in mind?” Rick breathes, feeling his cock stir among the long hair at his groin.
“C’mon,” Daryl tells him, pushing away from him and dropping to all fours to lead the way back home with Rick following eagerly behind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Working on your bike?” Rick asks skeptically twenty minutes later, once they’ve redressed and checked in with everyone before heading back outside to the garage. “That’s your distraction?”
“Yeah… what did you think I meant?” Daryl says, a tone of innocent confusion in his voice that has Rick almost believing him until he catches sight of him sneakily bolting the door from the inside.
Rick knows immediately the game that Daryl's playing and, knowing the reward that’s waiting for him at the end, he’s more than happy to play along with his partner’s distraction. So he takes a seat beside the workbench while Daryl sets about tinkering with the gleaming machine in the center of the room. He dutifully hands over tools when they’re requested, ignoring Daryl's impatient scowl when he deliberately gives him the wrong one, and spends his time silently watching and appreciating the experienced way Daryl's hands work on the bike. The confidence with which Daryl performs his checks on the engine, his hands moving surely and methodically over its parts only serves – as it always does – to increase Rick's desire. With every turn of a screw or tightening of a nut, he finds himself becoming increasingly aroused, knowing exactly how it feels to have Daryl's hands take care of him in such a thorough manner. He can feel the press of his cock straining against the inside of the well-worn jean he had hastily slipped into when they had returned home and he knows that Daryl is more than aware of his arousal too, can see it in the slight flaring of his nostrils as Rick leans in to hand him another wrench.
For his part, Daryl maintains his concentration on the task in front of him, taking his time over each minute adjustment that Rick is sure are making no difference to the bike’s performance whatsoever and barely even acknowledges Rick's presence in the room with him. Finally, just as Rick is starting to think that the temperature inside the garage can’t get any higher or he's going to dissolve into a puddle on the grease-stained concrete, Daryl straightens up from the bike and pulls a rag from his back pocket to wipe his hands on.
“Guess it’s time to turn this beast on… see how it sounds,” Daryl says, shooting a sly glance in Rick's direction and Rick can’t fail to miss the thinly-veiled innuendo behind his words.
He watches as Daryl digs deep in his front pocket for his key then inserts it in the ignition and turns it, the powerful engine roaring to life and then settling down to a gentle purr.
“Sounds pretty damn good to me,” Rick states, licking his lips as his eyes travel the lean lines of Daryl's back where his shirt is pulled taut against his skin while he leans over the seat to check something on the other side.
“Yeah… but did I ever tell ya there’s only one way to make sure that everythin’s in order?” Daryl asks, turning back to Rick and meeting his eyes as he slowly peels off the threadbare t-shirt that’s been clinging to him like a glove.
“No,” Rick answers, feeling his mouth moisten as Daryl's rich scent grows stronger and fills the room. “What’s that?”
“You have to feel it… let your whole body tune into what the bike’s tellin’ ya,” Daryl tells him, kicking off his boots and slipping smoothly out of his pants to stand naked before Rick. “’s the only way to know.”
“Is that so?” Rick asks, trying to keep a neutral expression on his face when, in reality, he feels like his tongue is about to unroll out of his mouth like a cartoon dog at the sight of a juicy bone.
“Uh-huh,” Daryl mutters in agreement, moving to raise his leg and slowly mount the bike, giving Rick an unfettered view of his puckered asshole and his balls skimming the seat beneath him. “Now… you gonna stand there starin’ like an idjit all night or you gonna come over here n’ learn somethin’?”
With no hesitation, Rick does as he's bid, quickly removing his clothes and climbing on the bike behind Daryl, planting his feet on the concrete on either side and shivering a little at the cool slide of the leather seat against his bare skin. Daryl balances the bike to release the kickstand and Rick's body is immediately enveloped in the gentle vibrations coming from the humming engine beneath him, making him groan a little at the stimulation as he slides his hands onto Daryl's back.
“Never had ya in the bitch seat before,” Daryl chuckles throatily, throwing a smirking glance back over his shoulder and Rick feels the hair bristle on the back of his neck at the implied insult.
“Who’s the bitch?” he asks sharply, reaching roughly around in front of Daryl to grab at his hardened cock and give it a tight squeeze.
“Uhhh…” Daryl moans with a tiny mewl of pleasure that has Rick's cock twitching hard.
“That’s what I thought,” Rick tells him, stroking his fist along Daryl's length and being rewarded with another of those needy sounds.
He runs his free hand down Daryl's spine, mesmerized by the rich, golden hue of his skin in the light of the hurricane lamps they had lit earlier, his fingers drawing lazy spirals on his flesh. Drawing his other fist up to the head of Daryl's cock, he uses one finger to brush lightly over his slit, tapping it in the sticky pre-cum he finds there. Withdrawing his hand from Daryl's cock, he lifts it up to his face instead, rubbing the wet tip across his bottom lip and then slipping his forefinger into Daryl's mouth where his tongue curls eagerly around it.
“Oh yeah… that’s right… suck it real good, babe,” Rick instructs him, leaning into Daryl’s back to whisper in his ear.
Daryl takes Rick's hand in his, releasing his finger for a moment before parting his lips again and this time sliding them over two of Rick's digits to coat them in saliva. Rick relishes the sensation with a breathy moan then pulls his hand from Daryl’s mouth and brings it back behind him to press one slick fingertip against his exposed hole. Daryl gives a shuddering sigh as Rick pushes into him, working him slowly to open him up before he adds the second finger, his lips pressing tight kisses against the scarred skin of Daryl's back. He takes his time, despite the wolf howling in his head at him to just fuck his mate already, making sure that Daryl is relaxed and prepared before he goes any further.
“Got lube?” he asks with a grin and Daryl snorts out a small laugh like he hasn’t heard Rick make the same lame-ass joke about a hundred times before and it just makes Rick love him that little bit more.
“Pocket,” Daryl answers with a nod of his head towards his discarded pants. “Tell me again why I’m the only one who’s ever prepared ‘round here. Boy Scouts would be ashamed of you, Officer Grimes.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Rick grumbles, hopping off the bike to scoop up Daryl's pants from the floor and retrieve the small tube from the front pocket before turning back around. “Holy fuck… I wish I had a camera right now.”
He can’t help but stand and stare at Daryl for a long moment, the sight of him bent forward over the bike, his dripping cock pressed against the tank and his slick hole spread ready for Rick to fill, causing Rick's breath to catch in his throat and for a deep ache to start in his balls.
“Quit it,” Daryl growls and Rick can see the flush of embarrassment creeping up his cheeks. “We doin’ this or what? I ain’t gettin’ any younger here.”
Rick shakes his head and, as he steps back to the bike, he catches sight of something folded on the workbench that makes him pause again, this time with an even wider grin on his face.
“Here… hold this,” he says, tossing the lube to Daryl who plucks it deftly out of the air. “Got a surprise for you.”
“Don’t need no surprises,” Daryl complains from behind him as Rick grabs his find from the bench along with a bottle of water which he swiftly uncaps.
“Oh I think you’ll want this one alright,” he tells him, turning from the bench and dangling a dripping chamois leather in front of Daryl's face, watching his eyes widen in surprise. “Thought we’d take you on a little trip down memory lane.”
Daryl doesn’t reply as Rick climbs back on the bike behind him but he straightens up when Rick reaches around him with the warm, slippery leather draped over his palm and his breath quickens as Rick wraps the dripping cloth around his length. Rick feels Daryl tremble slightly as he starts a slow pump of his fist around his leather encased cock and he smiles to himself, brushing his lips across Daryl's shoulder.
“Jesus… Rick…” Daryl murmurs, his hips grinding forward in rhythm with Rick's slowly moving fist.
“Keep it together, Dixon,” Rick growls against his shoulder, “I didn’t even get started yet.”
Sliding his hand up over the end of Daryl's cock and letting it drop back to rest against the fuel tank, Rick unwraps the soaking leather from his fingers and hands it to Daryl who, in turn, hands him back the lube.
“Mint?” he asks, raising an eyebrow as he pops the lid on the small tube and the sharp scent tickles his nose.
“’sposed to tingle or somethin’,” Daryl mutters in front of him as Rick squirts the sticky liquid in his palm and applies it generously to his cock.
“Woah,” he gasps as the lube does, in fact, give him a not unpleasant tingling sensation along his length.
Smearing yet more of the lube onto his fingers, Rick tosses aside the tube and uses his free hand to push Daryl forward onto the bike again before inserting his slippery fingers back inside him. Daryl grunts at the initial sensation and then whines low in his throat as Rick starts massaging his fingers in and out of his hole.
‘You ready?” Rick asks, grasping at his cock and giving himself a tight stroke.
“Always,” Daryl replies, planting his feet more firmly on either side of the purring bike and raising himself up from the seat a little more.
Rick withdraws his fingers, taking no time at all to replace them with the tip of his cock, teasing Daryl's entrance for a moment before he can’t resist any longer and he pushes slowly inside of his lover. Daryl makes a deep keening sound that travels straight to Rick's cock as he pulls back a little before rolling his hips forward once more, feeling Daryl's slick walls squeezing tight around him. He places his hands on Daryl's hips looking for better leverage but he can’t quite seem to get the angle to go as deep as he wants.
“Shit,” he growls in frustration and Daryl takes his hands, guiding them past his body to rest on the bike’s handlebars which Rick immediately latches onto and uses to pull himself forward to deepen his thrust.
Daryl presses back against him, his cock rutting into the wet leather wrapped around it with each thrust that Rick makes into his ass, a string of hushed profanities tripping from his lips. Rick buries his face against Daryl's shoulder, breathing hard and leaving sloppy kisses against his skin while Daryl groans beneath him, one hand coming up to clasp around Rick's rigid forearm.
They move together, forwards and back, the bike’s vibrations adding extra stimulation that Rick can feel from his balls to his lips as he loses himself inside Daryl. He wants him to come while he’s buried deep inside of him, needs to feel him come apart around him and know that his downfall is Rick's doing, so he rolls his hips a little faster. He's rewarded with the sound of Daryl's moans getting louder, the feel of his sweat coating Rick's chest, and he tightens his hands on the handlebars as he thrusts faster into him. He knows Daryl is close to the edge, can read it in every beat of his heart, every ragged breath he exhales so, with a flick of his wrist, Rick revs the engine beneath them sending a shockwave of stimulation straight to his core. He's coming before he can stop himself, his hands slipping from the handlebars to wrap around Daryl's waist and cling to him as they both ride out their orgasms in a heaving mass of sweat-slicked skin and muttered curses against each other.
Daryl is the first to move, flipping off the engine and tilting the bike to reinstate the kickstand while Rick keeps his arms wrapped firmly around his waist and moves in tandem with him to relieve some of the pressure in both their thighs from keeping the bike in position while they’d fucked. He can hear the rapid thud of both their heartbeats, now crystal clear in the silent space, and can feel the sweat trickling down his sides and back.
‘So,” he croaks, having to stop and clear his throat before he continues, “how does it feel?”
“Oh, it feels damn fine, Sheriff… damn fine,” Daryl answers, loosening Rick's grip a little so that he can turn and look over his shoulder at him.
“Really?” Rick asks, ducking his head forward to nip his teeth into the side of Daryl's neck, the salty taste of his sweat bursting on his tongue. “You don’t think it needs another tune up?”
“Well, there’s always room for improvement,” Daryl chuckles, reaching up to capture Rick's head and tug playfully on his damp curls. “You feelin’ distracted enough back there?”
“Daryl, I can honestly say there’s nothing on my mind but you right now,” Rick tells him and he means it, all of his worries pushed temporarily aside in favor of enjoying the here and now.
“Good,” says Daryl, turning more in his arms so that he can angle his head for a kiss which Rick is more than happy to grant him, the two of them losing themselves in each other for just a little longer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Breakfast is barely over the next morning when Rick's walkie squawks to life just as he’s pouring himself a second cup of coffee, causing the hot liquid to splash across the back of his hand when it makes him jump.
“What?” he yells, maybe a little too sharply as he reaches for a handful of paper towels to clean up the mess.
“Umm… just thought you’d like to know we have traffic on the road but if this is a bad time…” comes Noah’s hesitant voice from the tiny speaker.
“On my way,” Rick barks, pocketing the radio and abandoning his coffee as he heads for the door, checking his Colt on the way.
Outside, as he strides across the yard, he's greeted by the sight of Michonne and Andrea’s car pulling through the already open gates being followed by two school buses painted in their distinctive yellow color and a large pickup with its flatbed piled high with a variety of plants and crates of food. Once all three vehicles are safely inside, Tara and Carol secure the gates once more and everyone gathers around as Michonne steps out of the lead car.
“You’re late,” he says accusingly, stepping up to Michonne but he can’t keep the smile from his lips now that he knows they’re safe.
“And you worry too much,” she smiles, patting her palm against his chest, “it’s making you grey.”
He laughs, shifting his gaze to Andrea as she joins them, motioning to the numerous women on the buses to stay put and Rick takes in the faces he can see packed into the two vehicles, all of them looking back at him with a mixture of apprehension and fear on their faces.
“What happened?” he asks, walking out of earshot of the buses where the rest of his family is gathered.
“Just what we expected,” Andrea explains, her solemn eyes holding his. “The guards that Deanna left behind were those who were the least loyal to her cause and seemed more relieved than anything when we came back without her. They’d watched her try and turn those who’d volunteered to go with her – had seen some of their friends die horribly when it didn’t work – and they were scared she was going to come back and force it on the rest of them if she didn’t defeat you the first time. They weren’t exactly too cut up about it when they heard she was dead.”
“So why are they all here?” Carol asks and Andrea’s head swings in her direction but it’s Michonne that answers.
“Because the school had been attacked by walkers not long after Deanna had left them… maybe it was all the commotion she and her new pack made getting ready to come after you, we don’t know… but part of the fence was down and all the women were hiding in the school when we got there. The tents were overrun and a few of the women were bit before they could get inside. It was chaos.”
“You have to understand how these women have been living,” Andrea says, her tone defensive, “how much of a short leash Deanna kept them on. She fed them just enough that they wouldn’t starve but not enough that they’d have the strength to rise up against her. She told them she was keeping them safe but they were basically her prisoners… her lab rats. They’re not completely helpless but they’re pretty damn close. You tell someone they’re weak and worthless long enough, they’re going to start believing it.”
“We couldn’t leave them,” Michonne adds, stepping closer to Andrea. “Not with the kids to take care of and the ones that are still pregnant… it would’ve been a death sentence.”
“Where are they going to go now?” Rosita chips in and Rick can hear the rightful concern in her voice although he knows there’s only one answer to the question she’s asking. “You can’t seriously be thinking about letting them stay here… we can take a few of them, maybe, but anything past that and we’ll be crippling ourselves.”
“Rosita’s right,” Eugene interjects before anyone else can speak and Rick can feel the tension spreading through the group. “It’s just basic math… providing food for that many people is going to deplete our stocks exponentially and, while I’m sure that your lycan counterparts can keep us supplied with fresh meat for a short amount of time, there’s not a chipmunks chance in hell that our crops and supplies are going to last past more than a week or two at the most. Not to mention that none of us have any medical training and we’re already dealing with the imminent but joyous arrival of our own baby which will come with its own set of unexpected events I’m sure but factor that by another nine pregnancies, assuming they all survived the attack, and we’re looking at a daunting time ahead of us to say the least.”
“What did you want us to do?” Andrea asks angrily, the color rising on her cheeks. “Leave them there to fend for themselves… to wash our hands of them and say they’re not our problem because it’s going to make things tough around here? That might be your way of thinking but it’s certainly not mine. I thought you were all better than that.”
“Now, Andrea,” Rick says, stepping forward with his palms raised to try and calm some of the frustration he can feel pouring from her. “Eugene wasn’t saying it can’t be done… he was just making sure we have all the facts. It’s kind of his thing so don’t take it the wrong way. Nobody’s going anywhere, I promise you.”
She stares back at him for a long moment and then he can see the fight dissipate from her eyes and he understands emphatically what a tough time she and Michonne must have had uprooting these women from their home and making sure they arrived safely at their destination. He can’t blame her for her anger or her frustration for one second and he knows that, deep down, she understands both sides of the argument and she’s probably just as worried as the rest of them about trying to provide for such a large group.
“I’m sorry,” she says, exhaling deeply and mustering up a weary smile for Eugene. “I know it’s not ideal and I know it’s going to be a lot of work but I just didn’t know where else to go… at least for now.”
“It’s okay,” Carol tells her, wrapping her arm around Andrea’s shoulders and giving her a squeeze, “we’ll make it work until we can find a more permanent solution.”
“That’s right,” Rick agrees, his mind already working on the logistics of accommodating all their new guests. “We have plenty of room in the house if some of us double up… that’ll give the pregnant ones someplace to sleep and the kids can camp out in the living room.”
“And we have both floors in the lighthouse,” Michonne adds. “We can make a run for sleeping bags and bedding… get some space heaters in there. At least it has a working bathroom so that’s a blessing.”
“I can move into Rosita’s room,” Tara blurts out a little too eagerly then blushes as all eyes turn to her. “I mean… Noah can share with Carl as there are twin beds in there and…”
“And I’ll move out the lighthouse with the others,” Carol says with a quick smile in Tara’s direction. “That’ll give us another room inside and it might make them feel a little more at ease if we don’t make it seem like an ‘us’ and ‘them’ situation.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Rick nods as another thought crosses his mind. “What about the whole wolf thing? Do they know… about us, I mean?”
“No,” Andrea replies, shaking her head, “the only ones who knew were among Deanna’s Elite Squad that she brought with her after you.”
“Then I think that, for now at least, we should keep that to ourselves. I don’t want them to think that they’ve just moved from one bad situation to another. Let’s show them that we can be trusted before we drop that bombshell in their laps.”
“I don’t like lying to them,” Andrea says slowly, “but I know that you’re right. They’ve been through so much already… I just want them to feel safe.”
“Then maybe we should get them off the buses and get them settled,” Rick says loudly, clapping Eugene on the back hard enough to pitch him forward just a little.
“Thank you,” Andrea mouths as everyone moves off and Rick gives her a nod before turning to Daryl who has been standing silently at his side throughout the entire exchange. “You okay with all this?”
“Do I gotta choice?” Daryl replies, walking away towards the second bus, muttering under his breath as he goes. “Just like damn Woodbury all over again.”
Rick watches him for a moment, trying to judge if he really thinks that this is a bad idea or if it’s just Daryl's usual gruffness at being thrown a curveball he wasn’t expecting. Rick decides it’s the latter as his mate shoots forward to help one of the heavily pregnant women down from the bus steps, supporting her weight and pulling her overstuffed pack from her hands to sling over his own shoulder while he escorts her into the house. With a smile and a shake of his head, knowing that his partner is fully behind his decision, Rick joins the others in welcoming the newcomers as they file off the buses.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You know, there might be a solution to where they can go,” Andrea tells him a short while later as they’re unloading the boxes of food from the back of the pickup.
“Yeah… and where’s that?”
“The place that Deanna was scouting for the last couple of months,” she tells him, leaning against the truck’s tailgate for a moment. “Supposedly there’s a community out here, somewhere along the coast, that’s been here since the beginning. Solid walls, plenty of room, electricity and running water… you name it and they’ve got it.”
“Sounds too good to be true,” Rick says skeptically.
“Normally I’d think so too but there was this guy, Pete, who came to the school not too long ago…Deanna took him in as one of her ‘chosen’ ones and, when she was done with him, he told her about this place that he’d come from. I guess he thought she’d spare him if he had something worthwhile to barter with so he told her everything he could about this place except for the location. He made it sound like she’d be welcomed with open arms and, if she wasn’t, then he’d help her take the place himself. Seems he’d had a falling out with the man who runs the place and had gotten himself banished so he was looking for a way back in.”
“What did Deanna do?”
“She kept him alive for a while, gathering more information from him, but, in the end, she killed him once she thought she had all that she needed to find the place on her own. Unfortunately, her wolf-enhanced ego – no offence – coupled with her own special brand of insanity meant that she neglected to ask him two incredibly pertinent questions… How far? And in which direction? With Pete dead, she suddenly realized that she had no idea which way he’d come to reach us. The coast is a pretty big place when you have no idea if your search radius is forty miles or four hundred miles and you don’t even know if you should be going north or south! I can tell you she spent two days holed up with Pete’s rotting corpse trying to get the answers out of him. That was not a fun time for any of us.”
“So she started sending out scouts like Junie,” Rick says, grimacing at the visual she’s planted in his mind. “And what makes you believe it wasn’t just a lie this Pete made up to keep himself alive long enough to try and escape?”
“I’m still not sure that it wasn’t, not entirely, but there was just something about the way he talked about it, you know, all the little details that just rang true somehow. He was a nasty piece of work – I’m still not sure what Deanna saw in him but then her criteria seemed to change from one man to the next. He was one of those creepy guys that would hit on you in a bar, all smiles and respectability on the outside but after a little conversation and a couple of drinks you could see their inner sleazebag start to show. He even claimed that he was a doctor but I didn’t buy that for a second and, even if he was – and Lord knows we could’ve used one – I didn’t like the way he was around the girls she let him have. They didn’t say as much because they were more scared of her than of him but I’m pretty sure that he beat at least two of them when he was done with them.”
“Sounds like a real upstanding citizen,” Rick says darkly, having met more than his fair share of entitled pricks just like Pete when he was on patrol, “and yet you still believed him on the whole hidden community thing?”
“I really did, Rick,” she tells him earnestly. “I honestly believe it’s still worth looking for.”
“Then we’ll keep looking. We’re going to have to find another place anyway, may as well have somewhere to aim for.”
“We?”
“Yes, ‘we’,” Rick smiles at her, taking a box from the back of the truck and handing it to her. “Deanna might have been batshit crazy but she wasn’t wrong when she said we couldn’t hide away behind these walls forever. Eventually, we’re going to need other people if we want the human race to survive. We’ll have to take a chance and see who’s out there. This might be the answer we’re all looking for.”
“You’ve changed,” Andrea tells him, after looking at him for a moment.
“You haven’t,” he laughs, pulling forward another box. “Still the same headstrong woman who put me in my place on more than one occasion.”
“Well… only when you really deserved it,” she tells him, her clear eyes sparkling in the afternoon sun.
“You know we’re here because of you, right?” he asks her, gesturing at the lighthouse looming behind them. “I think that some days getting here… to a place where you’d been… was the only thing that kept Michonne going and she kept the rest of us going.”
As if she knows that her name is being spoken, Michonne appears in the doorway to the house and Rick sees the glisten of tears in Andrea’s eyes as she waves to her.
“Go on… I’ve got this,” he tells her, taking the box back from her hands.
“You sure? We can both help.”
“No… you two go rest up, you did all the hard work. I’m sure Daryl's lurking someplace nearby… he’ll help me.”
“You and Daryl,” she says, giving him a knowing look, “that’s still a story I have to hear.”
“Well, when I figure it out, I’ll be sure to clue you in,” he tells her and she laughs - a sound that he’s truly missed - before she races across the yard to usher Michonne back into the house, leaving Rick standing alone with a smile on his face.
Daryl's ears are ringing as he shakes his head to clear it and he can taste blood and dust on his tongue, his body trembling slightly from the shock as he pushes himself to his feet and surveys the damage in front of him. The gates are gone, obliterated in a cloud of fire and smoke that is burning in his lungs as he frantically peers through the haze looking for Rick and the others. His heart lurches painfully in his chest as he spots one of Rick's legs jutting out from under a large piece of the gate and he bolts forward in that direction only to have his way blocked by a colossal wolf that appears through the smoke. He stops dead as it lowers itself into a crouch in front of him, its teeth bared and its muscles bunched under its sand-colored coat as it issues a warning growl deep in its throat. Daryl's concern over reaching Rick is momentarily interrupted by his own confusion as to where the beast came from and he’s even more disturbed when a second wolf, this one a dark brown in color, circles around behind the first and takes up a similar stance a few feet away. His mind reels as he catches both of their scents, enough of their human selves underlying the wolf’s musk to tell him that the brown one is Amanda and the larger, more ferocious-looking one is Deanna’s muscle, Zoe. He’s shocked – knowing that Deanna could only have turned them the previous night after he and the others had escaped and he has to wonder how many more of her squad she tried it on and what the outcome of that was. It was a risky move on her part and one that only cemented her mental state as severely unpredictable but he didn’t have time to worry about that now, all he wanted was to get past them to Rick who still hasn’t moved from under the debris.
With a growl of his own, he attempts to take the direct route between them, hoping that his speed and experience will give him an advantage over their still-fresh abilities but they converge on him faster than he expects, forcing him back with a flurry of snapping jaws and brute strength. He retreats just a fraction, whining in frustration, but they don’t push their advantage which tells him, without a doubt, that they have orders from Deanna to keep him alive. The fact is of no comfort to him as they block him once more from trying to force his way past them and he manages to get a tearing bite in along Amanda’s flank, her pained cry fueling his anger. He paces back and forth, weighing up his options, the she-wolves keeping him penned in against the front of the garage until a movement behind them catches his eye and he sees Carol in full wolf form slinking out of the smoke to position herself behind Amanda. With a growl, he darts forward again, not really expecting to make it past Zoe’s bulk but wanting to cause a diversion so that Carol can launch herself at Amanda. The sounds of furious snarls and snapping jaws rents the air as Daryl sees Carol sink her teeth into Amanda’s already wounded side and the pair of them dissolves into a rolling ball of kicking limbs and flying fur. Before he even has a chance to challenge Zoe, he hears Rosita screaming his name from the top of the lighthouse and looks up to see her gesturing wildly to the gap in the wall where the gates had once stood.
His heart sinks as he sees a wave of walkers start stumbling across the debris led by yet another wolf that he doesn’t recognize and he knows that this is all part of Deanna’s plan. He flinches a little as the wolf who is darting back and forth encouraging the walkers forward abruptly takes a bullet to her skull, her head exploding in a viscous spray of blood and brain matter. As her carcass drops to the ground and becomes a welcome distraction for the oncoming walkers which fall hungrily down to feast on it, Daryl flicks his eyes up to the lighthouse where he sees Andrea’s grim countenance looking back at him over the barrel of her rifle. With the walkers’ concentration focused momentarily in one spot, the rest of his family appears at the railing above and starts raining down gunfire on them, taking out as many as they can but still they keep coming. He has a brief surge of hope as he catches sight of Michonne throwing aside walkers to reach the spot where Rick is pinned and bending to lift the broken gate off of him but then his attention is forced back onto the approaching walkers. As the first of them reach him and Zoe, who seems to be oblivious to the danger at her back or just doesn’t care, Daryl rears up into his hybrid form – noticing briefly that Carol has Amanda on the ground at her feet, both of them streaked with blood and dirt – and then throws himself at the larger wolf, his claws extended. He hits her solidly, his hands slashing at her head and throat as he tries to force her back into the waiting walkers, but she plants her feet and turns her head to sink her teeth into his forearm. He rips it from her grip, feeling his flesh tear in a white hot burst of pain and he opens his mouth to roar at her, stepping forward to tackle her again just as the first of the walkers start to surround them.
Daryl whines in frustration, knowing that he needs to end this fast before they’re both overrun and he’ll have no chance of fighting off the ever-growing number of walkers heading his way. Obviously coming to the same conclusion, Zoe rises rapidly up into her hybrid shape and throws off the two walkers which are attempting to take hold of her from behind. Daryl doesn’t hesitate, lunging forward to grab at the back of Zoe’s neck and yanking her head back to expose her throat to him so that he can sink his fangs into her pliant flesh. She screams, a strange mixture of human and animal and her scent fills his nostrils as she punches and kicks against him, her fingers clawing for his eyes but he just burrows his head deeper against her. He can feel the walkers surrounding them, biting and scratching at his body but he doesn’t loosen his grip on Zoe’s throat even when she gouges at his stomach with her claws, tearing open stinging wounds beneath his fur. She stumbles, her breath coming raggedly from her chest as her blood rushes out over his lips and Daryl finds himself falling as she clings to him and takes him down with her.
With walkers piling oppressively on top of them, Daryl gives a final jerk of his head and tears Zoe’s throat open, her blood spraying over his face and driving the walkers into even more of frenzy. Willing his body back into his wolfen form, wanting the extra protection of his thick coat against the walkers’ teeth and hands, Daryl struggles to fight his way out of the crowd, a sliver of panic fueling his movements as he tries to seek a way out among them. Abruptly the wall of walkers pressing in on him lightens up a little and he's relieved to see not only Carol and Michonne tearing into them but also Rick, all three of them dispatching the undead in their hybrid forms. Bolstered by the appearance of his mate, apparently unharmed and tearing the heads off of walkers with gusto, Daryl rises back up to join them in thinning out the herd.
“Rick!”
Daryl's head whips around as he hears Tara’s plaintive cry coming from the direction of the gateposts but at first he can’t even see her among the still drifting smoke. Tearing another walker apart with his bare hands, Daryl throws aside the pieces in disgust and follows as Rick starts moving towards the entrance to the compound where they find Tara effectively trapped behind one of the downed lookout posts. The fallen wooden platform and its supports have come down against the stone wall creating a barrier which was keeping the walkers at bay but also not giving Tara any way out.
“Glenn’s back here,” she calls out as they approach and Daryl can hear the fear in her voice. “He’s hurt pretty bad… I think his arm is broken and he hit his head… I can’t wake him up.”
“Carol,” Rick shouts and she stops pulling apart walkers to move to his side. “Stay here with Tara… see if you can move any of this wood without bringing it down on them. Michonne… get to the lighthouse and bring the others down here to clear the yard – tell ‘em to stop wasting ammo and go hand to hand instead. Daryl, you’re with me.”
Michonne heads off to the base of the lighthouse, pushing through the walkers converging on them and then sprinting away once she's in the clear. Rick takes the lead as he and Daryl fight to make a path through the snarling mass of undead bodies, heading for the garage and Daryl wonders what he’s planning.
“We need to block the gate,” Rick explains as they reach the building and race behind it to the small collection of vehicles they have parked there, “then we can deal with the rest.”
“Where do you think Deanna is?” Daryl asks as Rick Shifts back to human and climbs behind the wheel of their pickup.
“Honestly… I think she’s close,” Rick answers, starting up the truck. “Just biding her time while we deal with this shit.”
Daryl nods in agreement, knowing that the threat is far from over, and then he boosts himself up into the bed of the truck and signals Rick that he's ready to go. Rick puts the truck in gear and floors it as he pulls around the side of the garage and heads for the compound’s open entrance, the hefty vehicle mowing down any walkers in its path with ease.
“Hold on!” he yells to Daryl as he increases their speed with a roar of the engine.
Daryl braces himself on his hind paws, gripping tightly to the truck’s cab, fully aware of the maneuver Rick's about to attempt and ready to jump clear if it doesn’t work. Without the luxury of time to be able to maneuver the truck into position, Rick just hurtles towards the gap, wrenching on the steering wheel and stomping on the brakes at the last second to spin the truck sideways. With a bone-jarring crunch that almost throws Daryl loose from his perch, the pickup wedges itself firmly between the two stone posts on either side of the opening and stops the flow of walkers that Daryl can still see coming down the rise towards them. He jumps down from the back of the pickup, landing in a crouch as he surveys the yard in front of him that is still teeming with walkers. Looking to his left he can see where the occupants of the lighthouse have just come outside and are starting to cull the walkers gathered at its base, Michonne towering over the crowd.
“Let’s finish this,” Rick growls, slipping out of the truck’s cab and Shifting to his hybrid state.
Together, they work their way from the truck, first clearing the walkers gathered near to where Carol is working on freeing Tara and Glenn and then moving on towards the lighthouse until Daryl's hands and chest are slick with the putrid remains of the bodies he's tearing apart. They join the others near the lighthouse, finishing off the last of the walkers there until everyone is standing breathlessly in a loose circle, blood and gore painting their bodies from head to toe but with triumphant looks on each of their faces.
“Maggie, take Rosita… Carol needs help at the gate getting Glenn and Tara out,” Rick instructs and Daryl sees the look of concern that crosses Maggie’s face as she races away with Rosita close behind her. “Michonne…I want you to take a look around for any walkers we might have missed. Everyone else… we need you at the gate to start thinning the herd. Grab what tools you can from the shed… you know the drill. Daryl, you and I are getting out of here… I figure we can get through at the gate once we take some of them down.”
“Where we goin’?” Daryl asks as everyone else moves away to carry out Rick's instructions.
“We’re going to find Deanna before she tries anything else.”
“You sure ‘bout that… you don’t th-”
“Dad!”
Daryl jumps as Carl’s voice rips through the air behind him and he turns, his eyes widening in disbelief as he sees their son emerging from the door at the base of the lighthouse with a hybrid wolf’s claws wrapped firmly around his slender neck as she steers him into the open. Daryl instinctually lunges forward, seeing Rick move with him from the corner of his eye, and then they both stop dead as the wolf moves aside to reveal a second person behind her and Daryl's heart stutters in his chest as he sees it’s Deanna and she has Judy secured tightly in her arms. Both women stop a few feet from the door, Judy’s tiny form seeming impossibly small and fragile against Deanna’s monstrous frame and Daryl realizes that they must have slipped inside the compound when the gate had blown and everything was thrown into confusion.
“Deanna,” Rick growls and Daryl can smell the fear and anger pouring from his mate, “you let them go. Now.”
“And why would I do that, Rick?” she hisses back at him, her body quivering with suppressed rage. “You’ve taken what’s mine… forced me to sacrifice good people to come after you – four of my team dead because their bodies were too weak for the change and now three more slaughtered at your filthy hands. I think I deserve some compensation, don’t you?”
“We didn’t ask for any of this, Deanna… all of this… this is on you and you alone. Give me the baby and we’ll let you go.”
“How naïve do you think I am?” Deanna sneers, her fangs glistening as she raises Judy closer to her face, the child’s face contorted with distress as she starts crying heavily. “I think I’m going to take this little cherub as my own… walk right out of here unharmed… and there’s nothing you can do about it unless you want to see both of your children torn to shreds in front of you.”
Daryl growls, a low rumbling sound from deep in his chest that has Deanna’s eyes flicking from Rick to him and he straightens up from his battle-ready stance once he has her attention.
“I’ll go with you,” he tells her, holding her gaze so that she can see he’s not lying. “You let the kids go and I’m all yours – no arguments, no fights. We just walk on outta here and nobody will touch you. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? My blood for your women. It’s yours. But you let my family go.”
“Daryl,” Rick murmurs and Daryl shoots a glance in his direction before looking back at Deanna.
“What d’ya say?” he asks and he can see the hesitation on her distorted features as she weighs up the validity of his offer.
She doesn’t, however, get the chance to answer him as a single gunshot splits the air from behind him and the she-wolf holding Carl drops dead to the ground. To his credit, the boy doesn’t even flinch, just jumps aside and sprints over to stand behind Rick and Daryl.
“Traitor!” Deanna screams as Andrea comes to stand beside Rick, her gun up and aimed at Deanna’s face.
“Give it up, Deanna,” Andrea says, her clear voice sounding strongly on the air as she takes another step forward. “There’s no way out of this… you’re done. Hand over the baby and we’ll let you go. It’s not worth losing your life over.”
“And where will I go exactly?” Deanna spits, her jaws still far too close to his daughter’s crying face for Daryl's liking. “Back to the school? Do you really believe that I’m stupid enough to think that you won’t come after me?”
“That’s not my problem,” Andrea answers calmly, keeping her weapon trained steadily on Deanna’s face. “But I’m offering you the chance to live… to move on and start again someplace else. Is this what you think Reg would want you to have become, or the boys… someone who threatens children to get what she wants?”
“Don’t you dare speak about them,” Deanna roars, spittle flying from her lips as she paces on the spot and Judy’s fervent cries ramp up into high pitched wails that are cutting through Daryl like a knife. “You don’t know anything about them, you ungrateful bitch.”
“I know that they were good, strong, honorable men,” Andrea yells back, “that they gave their lives when we needed them most because they doted on you. And I know that they would be horrified by what you’ve become and what you’re trying to do with all those poor women you think you’re saving. You’ve become a monster, Deanna, and I think they’d be ashamed of you.”
What happens next, happens so rapidly that Daryl acts purely on instinct, his brain trailing behind as Deanna first of all pitches Judy’s wailing body away from her and then launches herself in Andrea’s direction. Rick and Daryl surge forward simultaneously, each reaching for the airborne body of their daughter, the sharp retort of gunfire echoing around them as Daryl manages to snag Judith’s chubby frame from the air and curl around her as he hits the ground on his back. Rick is right beside him, hands reaching out to pull away Daryl's arms and check that Judy is okay before he whirls away with an unbridled look of rage on his wolfen face. Daryl wills his body to get up, the wind having been knocked out of him as he hit the hard earth, and he finds Carl at his side ready to take Judy from him. He hands her gently over to her brother, the shock of her unexpected but mercifully short flight having silenced her cries, and she clings to Carl’s shirt as he moves away with her. Daryl turns, feeling his body protesting at the prolonged workout he’s given it between killing endless walkers and fighting a wolf the size of a small continent, and finds Rick standing protectively over Andrea’s prone body while Michonne stands between them and Deanna.
“Out of my way, half-breed,” Deanna yells, stepping forward to try and shove Michonne aside but Michonne easily holds her ground.
With an angry snarl, Deanna drops down to Shift into her full wolf form and then launches herself at Michonne, using her additional bulk to disrupt Michonne’s center of gravity and cause her to stagger back a few steps to readjust. Michonne drops to all fours in a heartbeat, dancing back a few steps as Deanna attempts to get the upper hand over her and wrap her jaws around Michonne’s throat. Both of them sink low, bellies scraping the ground and hackles raised, circling one another as they growl viciously and Daryl is ready to step in but a look from Rick holds him in check.
At some unseen signal, Michonne and Deanna launch themselves at each other, clashing headlong in a blur of flashing teeth and sharpened claws raking at each other’s bodies. Michonne has the advantage of size and youth but Deanna’s experience gives her an edge that has her easily blocking most of Michonne’s offensive attacks and she’s not afraid to fight dirty in return. Finally, after a prolonged bout of sparring which leaves both of them panting heavily and with their coats each streaked with blood, Michonne abruptly Shifts into her hybrid from just as Deanna is coming at her and sinks her hands into the older wolf’s flesh to lift her and slam her to the ground. With no hesitation, Michonne follows through, Shifting back to the wolf and pinning Deanna down to sink her fangs into her opponent’s throat. She shakes her head furiously, tearing open the soft flesh beneath her jaws as Deanna kicks futilely at Michonne’s underbelly, her movements gradually growing weaker as her life’s blood rushes out to pool on the ground beneath her. With a last growl rumbling in her throat, Michonne releases her death grip, stepping back with her long tongue coming out to lick the dripping blood from her muzzle. There’s a brief moment of silence as the small group contemplates each other and the dead wolf at their feet and then a small noise from Judy draws Daryl's attention and he looks to Rick for guidance.
“Okay,” Rick says, reaching down to pull Andrea to her feet and Daryl can see the concern on her face as she moves to Michonne’s side and lays a tentative hand on her neck, “we’re not out of the woods yet. Michonne… Andrea… make sure the compound is clear of walkers. Carl… get your sister back inside, lock the door and don’t come out again unless me or Daryl comes for you, understood?”
“Yes sir,” Carl relies, soothing his baby sister as he gives Rick a final look before heading back inside the darkened entrance to the white-painted building.
Rick watches them go, not redirecting his gaze until the door is firmly closed behind them and then he turns to Daryl, beckoning him after him as he drops to all fours and heads towards the gates. Pausing briefly beside the rest of their group, Daryl is relieved to see that they have managed to free Tara and Glenn who is sitting against the rough stone wall while Maggie tends to a nasty looking cut in his hairline. He looks up as Rick approaches, managing a wan smile that dissolves back into a grimace as his wife probes the wound on his head. Satisfied that he seems to be okay and is in more than capable hands, Daryl watches as Rick leaps up onto the back of the pickup and then onto the cab from where he can make the jump to the top of the rock wall. The sea of walkers blow shift their attention to him immediately, surging in his direction and Daryl watches as many of them are crowded off of the edge of the natural bridge, falling to the ocean hundreds of feet below.
In a flash, Daryl has an idea on how they can rid themselves permanently of the horde at the gates and, with a quick look up at Rick, who turns to meet his eyes, he knows unquestioningly that Rick has just had the same thought. Taking a deep breath, Daryl makes the leap onto the back of the pickup and launches himself off the other side where the walkers have thinned slightly in their quest to reach Rick. He feels hands grabbing at his fur but he plows forward, forcing his way out into the open behind them where he runs a short distance away before turning to Shift back up to his hybrid form.
“Hey!” he yells, waving his arms wildly in the air and he sees Rick disappearing back down behind the wall. “Over here ya ugly sons of bitches.”
He keeps yelling and gesticulating until he has the attention of the herd and they turn to investigate this new stimulus, the compound already forgotten. Daryl backs up as they start to move in his direction, leading them away from the path and up the rise towards the trees. Behind them he can see the flash of Rick's silver pelt as he leaps from the pickup and races to join Daryl, skirting the edge of the slow-moving herd and half-Shifting when he arrives. Keeping a short distance between them, they work together to entice the undead after them, up through the trees and back out onto the clifftop beyond.
“Ready?” Rick shouts and Daryl can see the light blazing in his eyes.
“Always,” he answers, turning his back on the ravenous faces that are following them.
Ahead of them the ocean stretches out as far as the eye can see, the jagged coastline to their left disappearing into the horizon. Directly in front of them is a rocky promontory jutting out above the ocean’s glittering waves, the sheer drop at its edge even higher than the one surrounding the lighthouse. Between them and the edge is a crevasse, cutting through the earth as though some cosmic hand had sliced a wedge out of the cliff itself. They’re approaching the widest part of the wedge where the opening is at least fifteen feet across and Daryl can hear the roar of the waves crashing against the rocks below, the sound being amplified as it travels up between the rock walls. With Rick at his side, they increase their speed, easily clearing the gap to land on the other side where they whirl around to draw the walkers on, making as much noise and movement as they can. Daryl's lips peel back in a satisfied grin as the first walkers stumble like lemmings over the steep edge, their reaching hands and slack faces concentrated on nothing but the prize ahead. None of them have the capacity to realize that moving a little further along the cliff would bring them to a safe path out to where their meals are now howling triumphantly as they beckon them on. With a single-minded focus, each of the walkers steps up to and over the edge, nothing driving them except the need to feed and it’s not long until Rick and Daryl are alone on the clifftop.
“Come on,” Rick says, reaching out to clap Daryl on the shoulder and Daryl winces as the aches and pains in his body make themselves known now that he’s no longer in any immediate danger. “We have a shit ton of clean up to do.”
Daryl sighs wistfully, visions of a hot shower and a long nap floating in his mind, but he still follows Rick as he takes on the wolf and races back around the end of the crevasse to head for home. They arrive to find that the pickup has been moved and that Michonne, now in her human form and dressed in her usual attire with her sword on her back, is busy loading supplies into the back of one of the other cars.
“What’s going on?” Rick asks as they draw closer and Andrea appears from inside the house carrying another backpack.
“We’re going back to the school,” she explains, throwing the pack onto the back seat and closing the door. “I need to get back and find out what happened. If Deanna left the others behind, they’re going to need our help to survive.”
“What about the rest of her crew… her Elite Squad?” Daryl asks, watching Michonne take off her sword to slide it into the front seat.
“You heard her,” Andrea answers, holding open the passenger door, “seven of them are already dead and the others… well, I have a pretty good idea who she would’ve left behind and I think we can handle them. Once they find out she’s gone, I don’t think they’ll give us any trouble.”
“And you’re sure about that?” Rick asks, looking at each of them in turn. “Why don’t you take Carol along with you, just in case?”
“Because you’re going to need her here,” Michonne states, climbing in behind the wheel. “We’ll be fine, I swear.”
“Just be careful, okay?” Rick instructs, stepping back from the car as Michonne guns the engine. “If you’re not back in two days, we’re coming after you. Clear?”
“Crystal, boss,” Michonne grins up at him and then she puts the car in gear and they’re gone, disappearing quickly up the gravel track and out of sight over the rise.
“We need to get people out here working on fixing these gates,” Rick says, turning to look at the smoldering debris littering the ground, “but first, what do you say, we go get our kids back?”
“Best plan I’ve heard all day,” Daryl tells him with a grin of his own.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The cleanup takes some time, both in terms of disposing of all the corpses littering the yard – the pickup making endless trips up to the crevasse to dump the bodies – and in designing and building new gates that would be just as strong as the ones that had been in place when they had arrived. Luckily they had Eugene’s smarts to call on for that and he had soon drawn up a plan of what was needed to make their home secure again. Even with everyone pitching in and the combined strength of three wolves, they were still working long after the sun had gone down, the brightness of the clear night sky lighting their way as the last piece of wood was shaped from the trees they had cut down and stacked outside ready for assembly the next day. Carol had volunteered to take first watch by the pickup with Rosita, Rick wanting at least one wolf on duty out there all night until the compound was secure again. With a series of joking complaints about the workout everyone had undertaken but with an underlying sense of relief that none of their family had been lost that day, they all eat a cold meal in the kitchen before heading for their beds and a well-deserved rest. Having made sure that Carl is okay after what had happened and finding him already fast asleep in his room, Daryl and Rick stop briefly outside of Glenn and Maggie’s room on the way to their own.
“Hey, just wanted to see how he’s doing,” Rick says after Maggie opens the door to his gentle knock.
“See for yourself,” she replies, stepping aside and letting them enter the room where Glenn is propped up against the headboard of their bed with his left arm laying splinted on a pillow beside him.
“So, it’s broken?” Daryl asks, moving over to stand next to Glenn.
“Carol seems to think so,” Maggie answers, folding her arms in front of her, “but Mr. Stubborn here seems to think that he’ll be up and about tomorrow.”
“Not gonna happen,” Rick tells Glenn firmly with a shake of his head. “You’re staying just where you are until I tell you different, you hear me?”
“But there’s so-”
“But nothing,” Rick interrupts, raising his hands. “You’re no good to me running around like a lame duck. Take time… heal… and then you can go back to being a badass.”
Maggie smirks as Rick turns and leaves the room, allowing no further argument on the subject and Daryl knows she’s been having the same fight with her husband over and over.
“You know… if you get bored, I’m sure Carol has some sewin’ you can help her with… or maybe she can bring you a pot of potatoes to peel… nothin’ too taxin’ for ya now,” Daryl ribs him, relieved to find that his friend is okay, and heading to the door with Maggie close behind him.
“Bite me,” Glenn tosses at him, raising his good hand to flip Daryl off.
“Maybe I should,” Daryl chuckles as he slips through the open door. “Might toughen you up a little.”
Glenn’s reply is cut off by Maggie closing the door behind him and Daryl smiles to himself as he crosses the hall to his and Rick's room, toeing off his boots the minute he's inside with a grunt of relief. He can already hear the shower running and he quickly peeks in on Judy sleeping serenely in her crib, the day’s traumas already forgotten, before he joins Rick in the bathroom. They don’t speak as they slowly undress, peeling their clothes from their filthy bodies and then stepping under the welcoming water together. Daryl draws in a sharp breath as the warm water needles his skin, finding each and every scrape, bump and laceration as he turns beneath it. Gently, he and Rick wash each other down, both of them too sore and exhausted to find anything other than comfort in this act of intimacy – each of them quietly cataloging the others wounds and making sure that there’s none that need more attention than their own enhanced bodies will provide. Once they feel they’ve cleaned all of the grime from their skin, they dry off and collapse onto their bed, Daryl's head barely hitting the pillow before he feels himself drifting away. At some point during the night each of them wakes, stiff and aching, and they Shift, almost without thinking and that’s how they wake the next day, curled around each other’s wolfen form with their muzzles resting on the other’s back.
Rick squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, wondering momentarily if the rifle butt he’d taken to the temple earlier was causing him to hallucinate but, when he opens them again, he can still see Andrea standing next to Deanna. She looks different from the last time he'd seen her at the Governor’s side, her long blond hair now cropped short up to her ears but her clear eyes are still burning with the same passion he had always seen in them. As she leans in to talk to Deanna, her gaze meets his and she gives him the merest shake of her head to tell him not to acknowledge their relationship. He can feel Michonne practically quivering next to him and he hopes she has enough control to be able to keep herself in check and not give anything away.
“What is it?” Deanna asks impatiently, stepping back from Rick as Andrea lays a hand on her arm.
“It’s time… Rebecca’s crowning.”
“Now?” Deanna barks, throwing her hands up in obvious exasperation. “I’m a little busy here, Andrea.”
“I know but this can’t wait or have you forgotten your vow to be at every birth?”
“Don’t you dare question my loyalty to our plan, Andrea,” Deanna snaps, whirling on the other woman who bows her head contritely, staying that way until Deanna sighs deeply and tucks her gun out of sight once more. “Fine! Let’s go see if we have a new candidate or another mutt I need to put down. Amanda… take our guests and lock them up. I’ll deal with cleansing their heathen souls later.”
With a final, sneering look down at Rick, she turns and leaves with Andrea at her heels and Rick and the others find themselves being hauled to their feet and marched at gunpoint out of the auditorium.
They’re led to the school cafeteria and hustled through the kitchens into the large walk-in freezer, now sitting empty and cave-like, where the door is slammed shut behind them and they find themselves alone in the pitch black space. Everybody is silent for a moment as their eyes adjust to the darkness and they listen to the sound of retreating footsteps outside leading away from the thick, steel door.
“They all go?” Daryl whispers but Rick holds up a hand as he leans in closer to the door, listening intently.
“One guard,” he answers softly, indicating that they should move to the back of the freezer to talk, not that he thought they could be overheard but because, psychologically, it made him feel better.
“’spose there’s no chance of forcin’ the door?” Daryl grumbles quietly.
“Not like this,” Rick answers, jangling the cuffs behind his back.
“So what do we do?”
“We wait… bide our time until we’re out of here and try to make our move then. We have something working in our favor now.”
“Andrea,” Daryl nods.
“Rick…” Michonne says, her tone reflecting the shock he knows they’re all feeling. “How is this possible? We found her body when…”
“We found a body,” Rick says strongly, leaning in so that she looks at him, “a mangled, torn apart body with her jacket nearby that none of us exactly took too long to examine and we all just assumed it was her. We had no reason not to.”
“She’s been out there all this time…” Michonne whispers, struggling to hold back tears, “all alone… she… she…”
“She survived,” Daryl tells her. “She’s strong and she’s alive and that’s more than we’ll be if we don’t get outta this place before that crazy bitch decides to come back and finish what she started.”
They fall silent and, with nothing else to do but wait, they take a seat on the cool floor, Rick's nose twitching at the long-forgotten scents of the food that had been stored inside which had ripened without the refrigeration to keep it at bay.
There’s no real concept of time passing – Rick's watch is firmly out of sight behind his back – but he doesn’t think that they’ve been locked away for that long when he hears the sound of footsteps approaching the door and the three of them scramble to their feet. After a brief, muffled exchange of words outside, they hear somebody walk away and then there’s nothing but silence again. After a short pause, the lock on the outside of the door is released and Rick finds himself blinking stupidly in the bright light coming from the hurricane lamp Andrea has raised in her hand.
“You need to move… now,” she states, coming in and setting the lamp down on one of the empty shelves alongside the weapons that had been stripped from them on their arrival so that she can move behind Rick and unlock the cuffs at his wrists.
Michonne is quiet as Andrea frees Daryl's hands and then moves on to hers but, as soon as the cuffs are gone, she turns and reaches for Andrea to pull her close, laughing and crying all at once as she kisses her deeply and Andrea clings to her as she returns the kiss with an equal passion. Rick glances at Daryl, unable to stop the smile forming on his lips, and Daryl just nods back at him, his eyes sparkling, the unbridled display of affection confirming what Rick had long suspected – that Michonne and Andrea’s relationship had been far deeper than just friends.
“You cut your hair,” Michonne cries, releasing Andrea enough to run her fingers through the other woman’s short locks.
“Not by choice,” Andrea replies darkly.
“Andrea, what happened? We thought you were dead.”
“Not now… there’s no time. I’m not sure how long Rebecca’s new baby is going to distract Deanna for. Just be thankful it was a girl or she might’ve already been back here. Come on… follow me.”
She douses the light and secures the freezer door behind them before taking off swiftly through the kitchen leading them along a short hallway that opens up into a small loading dock. Pulling a set of keys from her pocket, she unlocks the door next to the larger, roll-up one that would’ve been used for truck deliveries and cautiously opens it.
“There,” she whispers pointing across to the chain link fence surrounding the yard, “the trees are thickest there… you can get over the fence without being seen.”
“You’re coming with us,” Michonne hisses, her words not so much a question as a statement of fact.
“I can’t,” Andrea answers, shaking her head. “The women here need me… it’s my home.”
“Home?” Michonne scoffs, her brow furrowing. “What kind of home is this? You’re living with this crazy psycho who wants to repopulate the earth with nothing but women. Do you hear how insane that sounds?”
“They saved me… I owe them.”
“So did I,” Michonne cries, reaching out for Andrea’s hand but she pulls it away. “We have a second chance – don’t tell me you’d rather stay here.”
“No but things are different now… I’m not who I was before.”
“Neither am I,” Michonne says drily. “Are any of us?”
“I’m sorry,” Andrea states and Rick can see the tears forming in her eyes again as she steps back from them, “but I can’t.”
“Michonne,” he says gently, moving up beside her to take her arm.
“No!” she hisses, shaking her head vehemently and throwing his hand off. “If she stays, I stay.”
“Rick…” Andrea pleads, desperation in her voice.
“’chonne, we gotta go,” Daryl adds, stepping up on her other side.
“Touch me and I’ll break your arm,” Michonne growls warningly and Daryl raises his hands but doesn’t move away from her.
“Michonne, please,” Andrea begs, taking her hands and holding them tight. “Just go… do it for me. I need you to be safe and that can’t happen here. There are things going on that you just can’t understand. I’ll come find you, I promise, I just can’t leave right now.”
“When?”
“Soon, I swear, there’s just something I hav-”
She's cut off by the sound of voices in the kitchen behind them and all of them freeze in place as they hear Andrea’s name being called.
“Outside – now,” Rick urges and they all pile through the door into the shadows along the side of the loading dock.
Andrea quickly closes the door and locks it, hopefully buying them a little time, Rick thinks as he checks out the immediate area.
“Do those run?” he asks, grabbing Andrea’s elbow and pointing to a line of vehicles parked by the fence.
“Yes,” she replies, nodding her head. “We keep the keys in them for emergencies.”
“Well I think this constitutes an emergency,” Rick states, pushing her towards the edge of the loading dock. “You’re coming with us.”
“No… Rick… I can’t.”
“You have to… let Deanna think we took you as leverage. It’s the safest option.”
He doesn’t let her argue anymore, just jumps down from the dock with the others close behind and then turns to look back up at her. For a second he sees the stubborn look on her face that he remembers so well and then she rolls her eyes at him before dropping down to the ground and they race together to the line of assorted cars and trucks. Daryl makes a beeline for the largest pickup there, jumping in behind the wheel while Rick takes the passenger side and the women take the back seat.
Rick grabs hold of the dash as Daryl slams the truck into reverse and then changes gear to send the truck roaring across the small lot towards the expanse of chainlink fence and the open ground beyond.
“Daryl… you don’t want to try for the gate?” Rick asks nervously as they rapidly approach the fence.
“Nah… reinforced… saw it earlier,” he replies, pushing just a little harder on the gas and Rick braces himself as they crash into the fence and rip through it with the sound of shrieking metal ringing in their ears.
They bounce out over the rough ground, dragging part of the fence behind them for a few seconds before it snags on something and tears free.
“See, Officer, no problem,” Daryl whoops just as a crescendo of gunfire opens up around them and Rick turns in his seat to see a row of armed women atop the moonlit roof of the school all aiming in their direction.
“Daryl!” he yells but his mate is already stomping on the gas pedal and everyone is thrown around as the truck lurches over the bumpy grass before finally finding traction on the dirt track beyond and speeding away.
Well out of the range of their weapons, Daryl keeps up his breakneck speed as they meet up with the main road and head for home. There’s no need for stealth anymore, rather they need to get back to the compound as fast as possible in case Deanna decides to pursue them. As the powerful truck eats up the miles, Daryl deftly steering around any errant walkers that wander into their path, Rick goes over what had happened in his mind and turns his thoughts to what might happen if Deanna launches an attack on them.
“Will she come after us?” he asks, swiveling in his seat to look at Andrea who is pressed firmly up against Michonne’s side, a look of misery and concern painting her features.
“Honestly,” she replies, raising her chin as she meets his eyes, “I don’t know. She’s unpredictable at best. She may take this as a defeat and decide you’re not worth her time or effort or she might look at it as an act of aggression on your part and come looking for vengeance. The way things have been going recently, I’m leaning more towards the latter especially if she thinks you’ve kidnapped me.”
“And if she does… what kind of threat are we looking at? It didn’t seem to me like she has much of anything, let alone the manpower she was bragging about unless there was a whole lot more people hiding in the school that we didn’t see.”
“No – last headcount was fifty-three… fifty-two now that we lost Junie. The women in the school with guns, that’s her muscle – her Elite Squad – twelve of them handpicked for their abilities with firearms and combat. The woman on stage with Deanna, the one who looks like the She-Hulk… that’s Zoe, she’s ex-military and never lets any of us forget it.”
“And the others?” Daryl asks over his shoulder, not taking his eyes from the road ahead. “The women outside in the tents.”
“Not a threat – none of them are armed with anything more than knives and most of them have never handled a weapon anyway, even if we did have enough to go around. If she sent them after you then they’d be nothing more than cannon fodder and they’re too precious to her for that.”
“Her breeding stock,” Michonne snorts derisively. “How in the hell did you end up there anyway?”
“Yeah,” Daryl adds, briefly turning to look over his shoulder at her before flicking his eyes forward again. “We came lookin’ for ya… after the Governor attacked the prison.”
“You did?” she asks, looking from Michonne to Rick. “I was on my way back to the prison – coming to warn you of what he was planning to do. He caught up to me just before I got there and hauled me back to Woodbury, trussed up like a piece of meat in his truck. I didn’t think anybody would know where I was. There was no reasoning with him at that point – all he wanted was revenge. He locked me up – chained me to a chair with every intention of torturing me, I’m sure. But something changed his mind and, instead, he stabbed Milton and left him in there with me to die so I’d have to watch and wait for him to turn and then kill me too. So, I guess in a way, it was a form of torture for both of us that had betrayed him.”
“We know,” Rick tells her, leaning his arm on the back of the seat and studying her face, “we found the room. The three of us were coming after the Governor, coming to finish what we’d started when we’d driven him away from the prison. On the way, we came across his people on the side of the road – he’d slaughtered all of them when they’d refused to go back to the prison with him. Karen was the only survivor so we took her with us but, when we got to Woodbury, he wasn’t there. With Karen on our side to back us up on what he’d done to the others, we persuaded Tyreese and Sasha to let us in to look for you.
We found the room you’re talking about but the door was open and there was nothing inside but the remains of a woman we assumed was you. There was barely anything of her left - the room was a bloodbath - but she was a similar build as you and had the same blond hair. We discovered your jacket on the floor beside her and just thought she was you.”
“It was ‘lissa… she arrived after you’d left Woodbury,” Andrea explains, turning to Michonne. “She must have seen Philip take me inside and had been waiting for a chance to get me out. I heard her outside calling my name just as I got free and Milton came for me. She opened the door at the wrong moment and he turned on her – she was down before I could lift a finger to help. I couldn’t even put her out of her misery.”
“I’m sorry,” Michonne says softly, taking Andrea’s hand and holding it on her lap. “I’m sorry we didn’t make sure it was you and keep looking.”
“No!” Andrea replies sharply. “It’s not your fault… any of you. I would’ve done the same thing. You couldn’t have known.”
“So what did you do? How did you end up with Deanna?”
“I ran. I didn’t know if Philip was coming back or if you’d killed him but I sure as hell wasn’t sticking around to find out. I headed out of Woodbury while it was still dark – I was intending on making my way back to the prison to find out what had happened. About two miles out of town I stumbled into a pretty big group of walkers and had nothing but a knife to fight them with so all I could do was run. Problem was I just kept running into more and more of them every way I turned and, in the dark, I somehow managed to come out of the trees and onto the highway before I knew where I was and straight into the path of an oncoming car. Luckily they weren’t going too fast or I'd have been roadkill but they clipped me hard enough to knock me out, break two of my ribs and give me this,” Andrea says, her fingers fluttering up to touch briefly at the jagged scar on her face and then drop back down to regain their hold on Michonne’s hand. “They picked me up and took me with them. I was in and out of consciousness for three days and, by the time I was finally lucid again, we were so far from the prison I didn’t have a hope of getting back alone. So I stayed with them – they were a small group but strong, I could see that immediately – and that’s how I met Deanna, her husband Reg and their two sons.”
“Wait… crazy lady has a family?” Daryl asks, twisting in his seat to look at Andrea. “What happened?”
“What always happens, Daryl,” she replies with a small sigh. “We were trapped and overrun and they sacrificed themselves so that we could go on. Deanna was inconsolable, out of her mind with grief, and it was all the rest of us could do to keep her moving. It was hard but eventually we found our way to the school and suddenly she was a different person – organizing everyone, making sure we were safe, finding others to join us – she said she wanted to honor the memory of her family by surviving and not giving up. Gradually our numbers grew and I actually thought we might make it.
And then she started refusing to let men join us, killing them if she thought they were a threat and turning out the ones that were already with us – for all I know she killed them too. She started preaching to the women – endless sermons about God’s plan and how we were the chosen ones to rebuild the earth – and a lot of them bought into it. They were scared and hungry and looking for anything to cling to that would push away the horror and give them something to believe in. Deanna was good – she knew just how to play the role of benevolent savior and fearless leader until she had them eating out of her hand. Those that didn’t agree were dealt with swiftly and with no mercy so it didn’t take long for everyone to fall in with her way of thinking.”
“And the whole baby thing?” Michonne asks.
“She’d bring a man into camp occasionally – I’m not sure what her criteria was for choosing them – but they’d think they’d hit the jackpot. Any woman was theirs for the taking… for a few days at least and then she would kill them in front of the group. Her goal was to impregnate as many of the women as possible as fast as possible.”
“To what end? What could she have been thinking would happen? One pregnancy is hard enough to protect but all of them… that’s madness,” Rick says, remembering caring for Lori during her pregnancy and the extra strain it had put on all of them to keep her and the baby alive.
“She wanted them to experiment on… to see if she could…”
“Could what?”
“Rick… there’s something I have to tell you about Deanna and you’re going to think I’m crazy but you just have to trust me, okay? Hear me out before you dismiss what I have to say.”
“Alright,” Rick answers, sharing a quick look with Michonne.
“Deanna is… well she's not like other people, Rick, she's different. She can do things I never knew were real outside of the realm of fantasy.”
“What kind of things?”
“She can change herself… her body,” Andrea says hesitantly, her tone showing that she expects to be ridiculed at any second. “She can become something else.”
“She’s a Shifter,” Daryl tosses back over his shoulder and Rick rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “Yeah, we know.”
“You know?” Andrea asks incredulously, darting her eyes from Rick to Michonne. “How? She never shares that with anyone new – not until she's sure of them, anyway.”
“Andrea, when Deanna had us in the school and you stepped in – how long were you in the wings for?” Rick asks and her gaze turns back to him, small lines of confusion forming between her eyes.
“I wasn’t – I came straight in. I’d been out on a run for the past week and, when I got back, I found Rebecca had gone into early labor and they told me Deanna was in the school with a group of strangers. Nobody really seemed to know what was going on or who you were. I just happened to walk in at the right moment to save your sorry asses. Rick, what’s going on?”
“I think it’s time to bring you up to speed on what’s happened since the last time we were together,” Rick says after a moments pause and Michonne nods her head in agreement.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By the time they had arrived back at the prison, everything was out in the open and Rick thought that Andrea had taken it pretty well, all things considered. He had been worried about how she would react when she found out that Michonne was also a wolf but it hadn’t seemed to be an issue judging by the way she had stuck tight to Michonne’s side when everyone had gathered around them in the living room. There had been a good deal of shocked and tearful reunions when they had arrived home with Andrea beside them and it had taken most of the night for everyone to get caught up and for introductions to be made among the newer members of their family. Eventually, Rick had called it a night and sent everybody off to get some rest but not before doubling the watch in the lighthouse and at the gates and making sure that everyone knew their roles should Deanna launch an attack. Neither Rick nor Daryl had been able to sleep though once they had retired to their room, both of them worried about what was to come. When Judith had awoken in the early hours, Rick had gotten up to see to her and then had brought her back into their bed where the two of them had soothed her back to sleep and spent the rest of the night talking softly until the morning light had crept around the edge of the curtains.
Now, the majority of his family was gathered once more in the living room and Rick could tell from their faces that nobody had slept well the night before.
“She’s doing what with the babies?” Maggie asks, her eyes wide with horror as she folds her hands instinctively over her stomach.
“If it’s a boy, she kills it immediately – offers it up as a sacrifice to her warped version of God,” Andrea explains, her blue eyes carrying a haunted look. “But, if it’s a girl, she plans on making it like her the moment it’s born.”
“She’s bitin’ them that small?” Daryl growls in disgust. “What the fuck?”
“That’s the point,” Andrea says wearily. “She’s all about the purity of the bloodline and she somehow came up with this crazy notion that biting them at birth would be as good as having the child herself. Don’t ask me to explain her logic because there isn’t any. I think she lost all reason when her family died.”
“How many children have there been?” Rick asks, laying his hand on Daryl's thigh to try and calm some of the agitation he can feel thrumming through his mate’s body.
“Five,” Andrea answers quietly and there’s a murmur of shock that runs around the room.
“What happened?”
“Three were boys… they were dead before their mothers even saw them. One was a girl and Deanna bit her instantly. She didn’t survive more than two days. Her body raged with a fever the whole time and you could see it distorting from what was going on inside it until it finally killed her.”
“And the fifth?” Rick asks, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as his mind fills with images of Abraham’s broken body twisting in on itself until his dying breath.
“I don’t know,” Andrea says, twisting her hands in her lap. “Rebecca just gave birth last night and Deanna bit the child as soon as she could. That’s the reason I wanted to stay… one of them at least. Rick, there are nine other women back there who are at different stages in their pregnancies.”
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Daryl mutters under his breath and the feeling in Rick's stomach tightens its grip.
“We have to help them, Rick, they don’t deserve this. She just has them trapped. She used the wolf to coerce them – to trick them into thinking she was going to make them like her and that they were the start of a new generation – and then she herded them into that place and made them dependent enough on her so that they couldn’t leave. She cut their hair as a symbol of each woman’s equality in the group, to show them how they were all as important as each other – only her Elite earn the right to wear it long – and then she turned them over to any man she deemed worthy of being a sperm donor for her sick little project.
I was lucky… she saw I could handle myself outside… so she made me a scout and the more I brought back for her, the more inclined she was to give me free rein… up to a point. I could’ve left so many times but, each time I was out there, all I could think about was those poor women and what she was doing to them. If, by staying there, I could help them in some way… maybe eventually find a way to take her down… then I had to do it. To her, they’re just prize sheep, Rick, nothing more than incubators for her new race and we have to end that.”
“And we will… I promise you,” Rick tells her reassuringly and he sees the nods of agreement from around the room without even having to ask. “But we need a plan. You have to tell us all you can about her and the others – strengths, weaknesses, things we can exploit to get into the school if we have to. If we’re going to do this, we need to be prepared.”
“What if she comes to us in the meantime?” Carol asks. “You said she wants Daryl because of his bloodline and she’s bound to be gunning for you for taking Andrea. I’m surprised she’s not knocking down the gate already.”
“Then, like you said, she’ll have the fight of her life on her hands. I want us to be ready. I want to double the watch around the clock and the lighthouse needs to be fully stocked. The four of us,” Rick says, looking from Carol to Michonne and then Daryl,” should take turns Shifting and go out to keep watch on the coast road. There’s only one way she can come at us and an early warning would give us an advantage.”
“I’ll go now,” Daryl says, getting to his feet and Rick stands to join him.
“Lookout only,” Rick emphasizes, making sure he has Daryl's eye. “No damn heroics, okay? You see ‘em coming, you hightail it back here as fast as your paws will carry you, you understand me?”
“Geez… yes wife, I got it… nag, nag nag,” Daryl mutters as he leaves the room but his fingers brush Rick's as he goes and Rick smiles to himself as he turns back to the others.
“Okay, let’s get to work, people, we have a lo-” he starts but is cut off by the squawking of the walkie in his pocket.
“Rick?” comes Eugene’s tinny voice over the speaker.
“Go ahead,” he says, pulling the radio from his pocket.
“They’re here,” Eugene states simply, his monotone voice betraying none of the nervousness Rick knows he must be feeling.
“What are they doing?” Rick asks, racing through the house with the others close on his heels.
“Nothing yet… they’re parked up on the rise.”
“Okay… you and Noah stay put.”
“Yes sir.”
“Andrea, I want you and Rosita to get the kids into the lighthouse right now then get up to the top. You’re our best sharpshooters.”
“Dad… I can help too,” Carl pleads, rushing up to him with a crying Judy cradled in his arms.
“No, Carl… I need you to watch your sister. That’s your only priority, you hear me?”
“But…”
“No buts… just go,” Rick instructs him, raising his voice and Rosita steps in to usher Carl out of the back door, Judy’s cries rising to a wail as she goes.
“Carol… you and Michonne are with me. Arm yourselves but be ready to Shift if you have to.”
“We’re ready,” Carol tells him, slipping out of her jacket and throwing it on the kitchen table as they head outside.
The chill air of morning caresses Rick's skin as he strides over to the gates, his eyes flicking back in the direction of the lighthouse where he’s gratified to see that the door is already firmly shut and Rosita is just coming out onto the balcony armed with her rifle. At the gate, Glenn and Tara are standing nervously on the platforms at either side, looking out over the top of the stone wall and Daryl arrives at his side in full wolf form as he approaches Glenn’s lookout.
“What’s happening?” he asks, climbing up onto the narrow platform as Glenn makes way for him.
“Nothing… they’re just sitting up there, watching us.”
Rick takes a look over the wall, casting his eyes up the rise to where there are two vehicles parked at the top with just four of Deanna’s Elite Squad standing casually beside them, armed but with their weapons holstered. He can see Amanda standing by the far vehicle and, as she catches sight of him, he watches as she opens the rear passenger door and Deanna steps out. Holding her arms aloft in a non-threatening gesture, she begins a slow walk forward down the slope towards the compound, stopping when she’s halfway between the cars and the gates. Rick curses under his breath and drops back down to the ground to stand in front of Daryl and he can see Carol and Michonne close by, taking up positions by the house and garage.
“I’m going out,” Rick declares and Daryl gives him a warning growl, “alone. I’ll be fine. Glenn… you got me covered? You see her put one toe out of line and you don’t hesitate.”
“Got it,” Glenn answers, aiming his rifle over the top of the wall and blowing out a steadying breath.
“Okay,” Rick answers, adjusting his gun belt and checking his Colt. “Tara, get the gate and make sure you lock it behind me.”
She shoulders her weapon and climbs down to release the massive wooden bar that latches both gates together and then, with a nod from Rick, she pulls on the rope that opens them. With a last glance at Daryl, he walks outside, his hands open and away from his body as he cautiously approaches Deanna’s position.
“Rick,” she greets him, her politician’s smile firmly in place as though she hadn’t just been threatening to put a bullet through his brain the previous night.
“What do you want, Deanna?”
“Want? What do you think I want, Rick? I want what you stole from me. Give me that and I promise I’ll leave you and your little pack alone.”
“Stole?” Rick asks, frowning at her. “We didn’t steal anything except our lives, Deanna, and those weren’t yours to begin with.”
“Liar!” she spits and her genial mask slips as her eyes blaze a brilliant amber and her upper canines lengthen just enough to protrude over her bottom lip as she speaks. “You took something far more precious to me than your worthless souls and I want her back!”
“Andrea?”
“Yes,” she hisses, baring her teeth angrily at him. “She’s mine and you kidnapped her to make your little escape. Well, it worked… you’re free. Now let her go.”
“I can’t do that,” Rick tells her, straightening his spine and resting his hands on his hips. “She’s family.”
“Family?” Deanna asks and he can see the confusion in her eyes.
“Oh yes… Andrea and us go way back and we’re not letting her go anywhere with you.”
“You’re the group she was with before Woodbury,” she says as the realization dawns.
“Small world just keeps on getting smaller,” Rick shrugs. “What can I say? So you may as well just turn around and leave because Andrea’s perfectly fine where she is.”
“With the people who betrayed her and left her for dead?” Deanna scoffs, raising a clawed finger and jabbing it in his direction and he can tell that she’s barely holding the wolf in check. “I don’t think so.”
“Fine,” Rick agrees, knowing that he can argue all day and she still won’t believe him. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
Slowly, he reaches into his pocket to pull out the walkie and toggles the mic open while keeping his eyes fixed firmly on Deanna.
“Eugene?”
“Present.”
“Send Andrea down to join us.”
“Affirmative.”
Rick pockets the walkie again and they wait in silence, neither of them moving a muscle until he hears the creak of the gate behind him and sees Deanna’s hands curl briefly into fists at her sides and then release again.
“Deanna,” Andrea says, acknowledging the other woman as she comes to a halt close to Rick's side, the wind ruffling her short, blond hair around her ears.
“Andrea,” Deanna nods, turning her full attention away from Rick although he’s more than sure that she's aware of any move that he makes, “what’s going on? Rick tells me you want to stay with them but I know that’s a lie. I know you wouldn’t betray your family like this.”
“These people are my family, Deanna… I belong with them,” Andrea says calmly and Rick is reminded of every time she’d presented the group with a well-voiced opinion on whatever challenge was facing them at the time.
“How can you say that?” Deanna cries out, spreading her arms out a little from her sides. “After all we’ve done for you… that I’ve done for you. I could’ve left you bleeding on the side of the road that night but, instead, I took you in and made you a part of my family”
“And I’m grateful for that… of course I am but I paid back that debt a long time ago, Deanna.”
“And what about the others, huh? Those women need you… you take care of them and you’re, what, just going to abandon them to hook up with some people you used to know? They don’t know you anymore, Andrea, they can’t love you like we do. We need you. What about Rebecca? She's going to need help with the baby – how’s she going to manage that without you?”
“Rebecca will be fine,” Andrea states coldly and Rick can feel her tensing at his side. “You’ll all be fine. I’m just one person – the group can survive without me. I’ve made up my mind. This is where I belong and I’m staying – I hope you can accept that. This doesn’t have to be a fight, Deanna.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Deanna snarls, spittle flying from her jaws as her face changes, “a fight is exactly what it is.”
“Andrea, run!” Rick yells, pushing her back towards the compound as Deanna rears up in front of them, tearing the loose clothing she had been wearing from her skin as easily as shredding tissue paper.
She roars in Rick's face and, before he can either draw his gun or initiate his own Shift, he hears a shot ring out and he sees a clump of bloodied fur and flesh fly from Deanna’s upper arm, causing her to stagger back. Abruptly the air around him is filled with gunfire as her Elite Squad also open fire and he turns on his heel and races back to the gates, seeing Andrea’s back just disappearing inside. He dives through the small opening and Tara slams them shut behind him, bringing the wooden beam back down into place to secure them.
“Andrea… you okay?” he asks and she nods her assent. “Then we need you in the lighthouse. Whatever she’s got out there is gonna be coming fast and that’s our best line of defense.”
She doesn’t answer, just turns and runs for the base of the lighthouse and Rick looks to Carol, Michonne and Daryl who have gathered around him in front of the gates.
“I want all of you to-” he starts but he never gets to finish his sentence as he hears Glenn, Tara and Eugene from the radio in his pocket all scream his name at once.
Before he can even turn his head to acknowledge any of them, the world around him explodes in a red hot ball of flame and smoke, his body being thrown by the concussive blast of heat coming from the RPG that just took out the gates and is now raining fiery debris down on all of them.
Emitting a deep bass growl that reverberates through his chest, Daryl reaches out blindly to slap away the insistent fingers that are tugging at his hair and buries his head under his pillow.
“What are you… five?” he hears Rick laugh, his voice muffled by the layers of cotton and duck down Daryl has pressed tightly over his ear.
He growls again as the pillow is torn from his grip and blinks angrily up at his smirking lover who is already dressed in his boots and jeans with his jacket buttoned up to his chin.
“Why can’t you be a normal person and at least sleep until the birds are fuckin’ awake?” Daryl grumbles, sitting up and rubbing at his sleep-crusted eyes while he fights back a yawn.
“Daryl… it’s noon,” Rick says, tossing the pillow back at his head. “Now drink the damn coffee I brought you and get your ass moving. I want to be out of here in an hour.”
“You tell Carol?” he asks, reaching for the mug on the nightstand and taking a swallow of the pitch black liquid inside.
“I did.”
“How’d that go?”
“About as well as you’d expect,” Rick says drily. “Maybe you want to talk to her before we go.”
“Sure,” Daryl grimaces, taking another swig of the coffee to fortify himself and then setting the mug down to swing his legs out of bed.
“You need a haircut,” Rick says, absently reaching out to push Daryl's bangs out of his eyes. “Both you and Carl – boy is starting to look like Bigfoot.”
Daryl leans into his touch, savoring the brief moment of normalcy in what is probably going to be a stressful day and he hears Rick emit a tiny sigh as his fingers slide from Daryl's face and drop back to his side.
“C’mon soldier, up and at ‘em,” he says, turning to leave the room. “We’ve got us a wolf to find.”
Rubbing his hand over his face, Daryl watches the door close behind Rick and then pulls himself to his feet to get dressed, foregoing the rest of his coffee in favor of seeking out Carol instead. Rick had made the decision that only he, Daryl and Michonne should go scouting for Deanna’s camp and that Carol should stay behind. As he had explained to Daryl, he didn’t want to leave the rest of their family unprotected just in case there was any trouble and, with Carol still being fresh to her new life, she was the obvious choice to keep watch over them. It wasn’t that Rick devalued her or her abilities in any way – it was quite the opposite in fact – but he needed her where she would be the greatest asset to all of them and that was using her abilities to protect their home. Daryl had agreed completely, he knew she wasn’t ready for that type of situation yet, but he wasn’t sure that Carol would see it in the same way as him and Rick and he wasn’t looking forward to the verbal backlash he knew he was about to receive. As he approaches the greenhouse, he can see her inside, furiously shoveling soil into a row of terracotta pots on the table in front of her and he steels his nerve before opening the door.
“Hey,” he calls out, stepping into the cloying heat from the chill wind outside but Carol doesn’t turn to acknowledge him.
“Not the time, Daryl,” she replies tersely, her deft fingers still working on the pots in front of her.
“Rick told you, huh?” he asks, drawing closer to her and he’s worried to see that her hands are trembling as she works.
“It doesn’t matter,” she answers and that’s when he hears the slight hitch in her voice and realizes that she’s crying.
“Carol?” he questions, reaching out to wrap his fingers gently around her wrist to turn her to him but she resists, keeping her face down. ‘What’s goin’ on? You know Rick's just bein’ safe.”
“It’s not about Rick,” she blurts out, finally meeting his eye and he can see the utter despair on her tear-streaked face. “Rick's right… I’m better off here. It’s the right call.”
“Then what happened?” Daryl asks, concerned to see her like this and confused if Rick's decision isn’t the cause of her being so upset.
He's not sure that she's going to answer him at first, he can see the internal struggle she’s battling, but then her face crumples and she's clinging to him, sobbing so hard that he can barely make out her words.
“So stupid… I should have… why did I wait until it was too late?” she cries, the tears streaming unchecked down her cheeks and, with a jolt of unwanted memory, Daryl recalls that he's only ever seen her this distressed once before when Sophia had emerged from Hershel’s barn.
“Too late for what?” he asks, trying to soothe her but she steps away from him, scrubbing harshly at her face with the cuff of her shirt and trying to pull herself under control.
“It doesn’t matter,” she tells him, drawing in a shaky breath and swiping her fingertips under her eyes. “Just forget it… I’m being silly. Shouldn’t you be leaving now anyway?”
“Don’t,” he says softly and he sees her hands clench into tight fists at her sides.
“Don’t what?”
“Do that… keep shit in,” he chides her, ducking his head a little to force her to look at him. “How many times you tell me, back at the prison, that keepin’ things to myself was gonna eat me alive faster’n any walker would?”
She stares him down for a moment, that internal struggle now playing out solely in her eyes, and then she sighs – a deep, bone-weary sound that makes his heart ache for her and he wants nothing more than to rip whatever’s making her feel this way out of existence. He waits patiently as she turns her face from him to look out of the cloudy glass to the garden beyond, her arms wrapping around herself and, in that moment, he doesn’t care about Deanna or their recon – he’s not going anywhere until he knows Carol is ready for him to leave.
“Maggie asked me if I thought we’d be able to find any pecan trees nearby – wanted to know if I could make pecan pie,” Carol tells him, her voice eerily flat and he keeps quiet, knowing that she has to get to what she wants to say in her own way. “I guess she’s craving it.”
She gives what starts out as a light laugh but it falters halfway and becomes a choked sob which has Daryl instinctively reaching out to guide her to a nearby bench and sitting her down, keeping her hand held fast in his.
“I was wrong, Daryl… wrong to think I didn’t need this from the start,” she tells him, briefly bringing the wolf forth in her face and holding up her free hand to flex her fingers into a new shape complete with razor-sharp claws extending from the tips. I should’ve asked you from the moment I found out what you were but I was weak… scared… convinced that I could still be strong without it.”
“You are strong,” Daryl says emphatically, “with or without the wolf. Strongest person I ever met.”
“Then why couldn’t I save her?” Carol asks, her tone full of anguish and self-loathing as she draws the wolf back in and drops her hand to her lap.
“Sophia?” Daryl replies, his own guilt about failing to save her child creeping back to the surface. “Nothin’ could’ve saved her, you know that. I tried so damn hard, I swear, but she was lost before we even started to look. A whole pack of wolves could-”
“Not Sophia,” Carol interrupts him, her fingers tightening in his. “Mika.”
“Mika?” he asks, confused. “The kid at the prison… Lizzie’s sister?”
She nods and he falls quiet again, watching her obviously reliving something in her mind that’s tearing her apart, her eyes clouding over before she finally starts to talk again.
“I was coming back to the prison after Rick… I was coming back when I saw the smoke and the walkers everywhere. I couldn’t help – it was too late – but I saw Tyreese escaping with the girls and Judy. By the time I managed to catch up with them, everything we’d known was gone. We had nothing to go back for and three good reasons to get to safety as fast as we could. We saw the signs for Terminus, even started heading that way but then we found a house – untouched, just one walker inside, wire fences, plenty of deer nearby and pecan trees as far as the eye could see. It was idyllic and we let it lure us in and were settled down before I’d even realized it had happened.
I knew Lizzie had problems – I’d seen signs of it at the prison – but I thought maybe, just maybe, if she had a place to live where she could be safe and it was just us, she might learn to get past the darkness that was clearly inside her.”
“What happened?”
“What always happens, Daryl,” she answers wearily and he can see the weight of what she's been carrying sitting on her shoulders like a physical entity. “Everything went to hell in a handbasket. I caught Lizzie playing with a walker in the yard – laughing like she was playing tag with her sister instead of some soulless creature that wanted nothing more than to rip her tender flesh from her bones. When I put it down, she completely snapped, raged at me in a way I didn’t think was possible for someone her age and I was so frightened for her. She had this disconnect – she couldn’t see that they weren’t people anymore, she believed that they could still be talked to and reasoned with, that there was still something of who they were left. She thought this was just a new stage of their evolution and if we’d give them a chance, they wouldn’t want to hurt us, we just needed to understand them.
I tried to talk to her and to Mika… oh, Daryl, that girl couldn’t have been more different… such an innocent soul that didn’t deserve to have to live in this world. But Lizzie… Lizzie didn’t want my help… she couldn’t see anything wrong in what she was doing even when it was putting her life and ours in danger. She was smart as a whip though, let me think she was changing… that she understood what I was telling her about how dangerous the walkers were.”
She pauses, tears falling from her eyes but Daryl doesn’t think that she even notices – he's not sure she even knows that he's there anymore, she's so lost in remembering the horror of what had passed.
“Maybe if I’d had the wolf to guide me, I wouldn’t have been so quick to trust her… my instincts would have been screaming at me that her compliance was a charade… but I wanted to believe it – I wanted her to be a normal, happy child and I wanted to put my faith in her. I was stupid… I let my guard down, cocooned in that perfect little world we’d carved out for ourselves and Mika paid the price for my weakness.”
“Carol… you don’t have to…”
“Yes… yes I do,” she says, raising her voice and tearing her hand from his to get up and pace a few steps away, stopping with her back to him. “Tyreese and I found her standing over Mika’s body, the knife in her hand still dripping with blood from where she’d stabbed her baby sister repeatedly in the stomach. Oh, she was very adamant about not having hurt her brain. She wanted to show us – to prove to us – that her sister would come back and still be herself. And she had Judy lined up as her next experiment… if we hadn’t arrived back when we did, I can’t even stand to think about what she would’ve done to her.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Daryl hisses, his blood running cold at the thought of his daughter in that sort of danger.
“I don’t even know how I found the words to talk her down, I was petrified she’d make a move before I could stop her. Somehow I managed to convince her that Judy was too young, that she wouldn’t be able to walk and take care of herself if she changed her then and it worked. Tyreese took Judith and Lizzie inside while I sunk my knife into poor little Mika’s head, trying not to think of how scared she must have been when her own sister, the one person she trusted most in the world, had gotten close and then turned on her.”
“And Lizzie?” Daryl asks although he already knows the tragic answer to that question.
“Tyreese and I discussed what to do – we wondered what would happen if we moved on and found other people… people who wouldn’t understand what was wrong with her. We knew we couldn’t stay where we were any longer and we knew that she was never going to be able to fit in anywhere, that she’d always be a danger to herself and to others. I couldn’t live with that uncertainty… having to watch her continuously, especially with Judy around and still deal with the rest of the world at the same time. We would’ve all ended up dead. There was no choice… only one thing left that we could do. That I could do.
So, I took her out to the pecan grove… held her hand as we walked, told her everything would be fine. I took her to a place where the grass was knee deep in flowers, there were birds singing in the trees and insects buzzing in the air and, in that place that was teeming with life, I took hers with a bullet to… to…”
Daryl rises to his feet, moving swiftly to her side and pulling her into his arms where she sags against him, her lack of protest at his uninvited invasion of her personal space telling him all he needs to know about her current state of mind.
“You did the right thing,” he tells her, cradling her head against his shoulder. “Hands down. There wasn’t anythin’ else you coulda done. And wishin’ for the wolf wouldn’t’ve changed a damn thing, trust me.”
“How do you know that?” she asks, pulling away from him again.
“She was a sick little girl and you did your best to help her… the wolf wasn’t gonna to make any difference to that.”
“But I could’ve been more aware… I don’t know… sensed what she was doing. I feel that now, more in tune with what’s going on around me… I could’ve used that.”
“Carol,” he says, taking her firmly by the shoulders and making sure he has her full attention, “it makes you faster and stronger and gives you all kinds of abilities that you haven’t even figured out yet but it doesn’t make you a damn superhero. You were in a bad situation that was never gonna have a happy endin’. If you hadn’t taken care of it then it would’ve been worse… maybe you dead along with Judy. You made the right call. It’s what you do.”
“What if I don’t want to do it anymore, Daryl? What if I can’t?” she asks, her eyes filling again and he can hear the fear in her voice.
“Then you don’t have to,” he tells her, drawing her in once more. “You have all of us to back you up, you hear me?”
Carol nods against him, her small hands balled in the front of his shirt and he realizes that, since Ty’s death, she's been carrying this burden alone and he hopes that by sharing it with him now, she’ll be able to let some of it go.
“Hey,” he says softly, leaning back to look into her face, “you know what we should do?”
She steps back from him, shaking her head and wiping her face with her sleeve once more.
“C’mon,” he tells her, taking her hand and leading her from the greenhouse to where the path continues out to the edge of the island. “Wait here.”
She opens her mouth to say something, a protest he's sure, but he doesn’t give her a chance, turning on his heel to jog back to the house where he finds Rick and the others waiting for him in the kitchen.
“You ready?” Rick asks and Daryl can see the tense lines around his eyes.
“Gonna need a minute,” he answers, frantically pulling open kitchen drawers and ignoring the curious eyes trained in his direction. “Do you know where those balloons are… the ones we had left from Judy’s birthday?”
“Top drawer by the sink,” Maggie tells him and he shoots her a grateful smile as he opens the drawer and finds the half empty pack tucked in the back.
“Daryl?” Rick says questioningly but Daryl is already halfway back out the door.
“Don’t leave without me,” he tosses over his shoulder.
Rick's response is snatched away by the gust of wind that meets Daryl as he opens the door and bolts back outside again.
Carol has walked away from where he’d left her, making her way out towards the area of rough grass beyond the lighthouse, and he catches up with her just as she reaches the top of the jagged cliff which falls away at their feet to disappear into the heaving waves below. She turns to him as he stops alongside her and hands her one of the objects he’d retrieved from the kitchen.
“A balloon?” she asks, one eyebrow raising quizzically at him as she holds up the deflated piece of fluorescent pink latex between her thumb and forefinger.
“I know there ain’t no words that me or anyone else can say that’s gonna take away the hurt you’re carryin’ but I thought we could make a start on sharin’ some of it,” he tells her and she watches him with solemn eyes as he inflates the candy pink balloon in his hand and quickly ties off the end. “You remember what we used to do back at the prison?”
“Let it go,” she answers, her voice barely a whisper on the wind but he still hears it.
Feeling suddenly self-conscious and hoping that the gesture he's trying to make isn’t pathetically inadequate in the face of her grief, he pulls out the black marker pen he had also snagged from the kitchen and carefully writes Mika’s name in his looping script on the shiny surface. Turning it so that she can see it while keeping a tight grip on the base as the wind bounces it against his fingers, he sees fresh tears springing to her eyes and then she lifts the other balloon to her lips and inflates it with a few deep breaths. Securing the end, she holds out her hand to him and he passes her the marker, watching while she slowly prints Lizzie’s name on it and then hands the pen back to him.
“Ready?” he asks her and she gives him the tiniest of nods. “Three… two… one…”
Together they raise their arms and release the brightly-colored balloons to the sky, the wind snatching them and tossing them high into the air where they’re buffeted in the crosswinds. As they watch them get progressively smaller as they float out to sea, Daryl moves in to wrap an arm around Carol’s shoulders and she leans into him.
“What happened… that ain’t never goin’ to fully go away… nothin’ can change that but you don’t have to carry it alone anymore, understand? You have me n’ the others – ain’t one of us wants to see you suffer or blame yourself for somethin’ you can’t control. This… tellin’ me n’ doin’ this stupid thing… this was just a baby step. I’m not dumb enough to think that this up and cured ya but I hope it’s a start.”
“It wasn’t a stupid thing, Daryl,” she tells him and he can hear some of the normal warmth returning to her tone. “It was a perfect idea.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she replies, nudging him gently in the ribs and he's relieved to see the merest hint of a smile crossing her lips. “You’re a good man, Daryl Dixon, I hope you know that. I’m not sure where any of us would be right now if we didn’t have you.”
“Oh hush,” he mumbles, feeling a flush rise on his cheeks at her words.
“It’s true and you better own it, mister. You’re not the man you used to be and we’re all better off for that, trust me.”
Daryl dips his head, feeling the heat in his face spread to his ears, and Carol leans into his side one more time before stepping away and taking one last glance to the sky where the bobbing pink balloons are no longer visible.
“You should get going,” she says, starting to walk backwards towards the lighthouse and he follows her as she turns and they fall into step together. “I can hear Rick grinding his teeth from here. I’m sorry I dropped all this on you when you have bigger things to be worrying about. It was just Maggie asking about the damn pecans opened the floodgates. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at one again.”
“You want me to stay?” he asks, as they round the corner of the house to find Rick and Michonne already geared up and waiting for him in the car. “It’s just a recon… I think these two can handle it.”
“Don’t be crazy… just get in the damn car already. I think I can hold it together without going postal on the chickens before you get back,” she chuckles, giving Rick a nod through the driver’s window as Daryl climbs into the backseat and slams the door behind him.
“We good?” Rick asks, meeting his eye in the rearview mirror and Daryl knows he's referring to more than just their imminent trip.
“We’re good,” Daryl answers, casting his eyes back to Carol as they drive out of the compound, watching her until the gate closes behind them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Their journey is uneventful, Rick sticking to the back roads as much as possible, taking a circuitous route that adds time to their trip but makes them all feel more secure about not being spotted. Neither Rick nor Michonne ask him about what had happened with Carol and he's grateful for that – he feels that the story is hers to tell if she chooses and not his. The lengthy, monotonous drive gives him a chance to think about what she’d told him and he wishes he could’ve been there for her to take some of the weight from her shoulders. He just hopes that now the truth is out, she’ll be able to find a way to process what happened and come to terms with it. He knows she’ll never truly forget it, after all he's still haunted by so many that they’ve lost – Sophia and his brother weighing especially heavy on his heart.
Just as the sun is starting to dip below the horizon, they pull off of the road a few miles from the first school location, leaving the car and setting out on foot. As they skirt the shore of a small lake that’s teeming with wildlife and approach the red brick buildings stealthily through the trees, it quickly becomes apparent that this isn’t the place they’re looking for.
“Okay… the high school is about five miles north of here as the crow flies,” Rick says, pulling a map from his back pocket and spreading it for the others to see. “I say we leave the car where it is and go on foot – no need to make any more noise than necessary.”
“Fine by me,” Michonne agrees as Rick tucks the map out of sight again.
“Daryl, you take point,” Rick instructs and Daryl nods, leading them surefootedly onto a narrow path between the trees.
They walk in silence, each of them on high alert, their footfalls barely making a sound until Daryl smells water ahead and halts on the edge of a wide lake.
“School’s on the other side just through the trees,” he says softly as Rick and Michonne come abreast of him. “Should probably do somethin’ ‘bout how we smell ‘fore we get any closer. Even if Deanna is the only wolf and we can’t count on that… the wind changes at the wrong moment, she’s gonna smell us comin’, no two ways about it.”
“What’d you have in mind?” Rick asks and Daryl answers him by bending to scoop up a handful of the dark viscous mud at the edge of the water and smears it onto his neck and chest.
“No!” Michonne hisses, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “No way. I am not rolling around like a pig in shit. Think of something else.”
“When did you become such a princess?” Daryl snorts as they all hear the distinctive sound of a walker close by in the trees. “You prefer walker guts? I can arrange that.”
“Fuck you, Dixon,” she mutters under her breath but she still drops to her knees besides the pair of them as they all work to cover themselves in the slick substance.
Once Daryl is content that their distinctive scents are no longer noticeable unless they’re directly on top of each other, he sets out around the lake, moving away from the water’s edge and into the treeline. It only takes them a few minutes to reach the outskirts of the school property and they can immediately see that they’re in the right place this time. With a series of rapid hand gestures, Rick directs them to split up, indicating that they should meet back at their current location once they’ve taken a good look around and learned what they can. Rick takes off towards the school buildings themselves where Daryl can see numerous lighted windows on the ground floor although the second story is in darkness. Michonne disappears into the trees to his left, circling the perimeter to the far side of the property which leaves Daryl with the area directly behind the school.
What had once been tennis and basketball courts were now filled edge to edge with a makeshift town of tents in every size and shape, reinforced with wooden pallets and tarps stretched between the tent edges to provide additional shelter. The chain link fencing that had once done nothing more than keep errant balls out of the parking lot and on the courts has been shored up with a conglomeration of metal sheets culled from everything from torn down roofing to the side panels from an 18-wheeler. While he had to admire their ingenuity, Daryl couldn’t say that he was surprised that two herds had nearly wiped them out. He wasn’t sure their defenses could withstand a strong wind let alone anything as substantial as a mob of hungry walkers. As it is there are plenty of gaps in the ramshackle fence for him to be able to see through without too much effort as he moves cautiously around the sides of their campground. The interior is pretty much what he expects for a group of people living in such tight quarters, a mess of trash littering the cracked concrete between the tents and rain barrels that are set up next to each dwelling.
There are lit hurricane lamps dotted around as well as a few small fires blazing safely inside steel drums which provide him enough light to do a quick count of the tents and he realizes that Deanna’s claim to have at least 200 people behind her was an exaggeration. Even if each of the tents held multiple occupants which he somehow doubts given their sizes, he was still only getting a headcount of maybe 40-50 people. Obviously there could be more holed up inside the school but something was telling him that she had purposefully inflated her numbers either as a scare tactic or as a defensive one. Whichever it is, it’s just another reason for him not to trust her and he’s starting to wonder what else she’s lying about. As he continues his observation through the fence, watching the camp’s oblivious inhabitants go about their usual nightly routine, he’s suddenly struck by the fact that everyone he’s seen so far has been either a woman or a child – there’s not a man in sight. He double checks himself, working his way back in the direction he’d come from but the fact remains the same – all of the occupants on the other side of the fence are women and it appears that at least a handful of them are heavily pregnant. Feeling confused and definitely uneasy about his observation, he makes his way stealthily back to their rendezvous point and finds that he's the first one to arrive.
He waits anxiously, scanning the treeline in all directions for Rick and Michonne’s approach but, when neither of them appear, he feels the first fingers of dread creeping along his spine. His brain is screaming for him to run, to go get reinforcements - that something has gone horribly wrong - but his instincts are urging him into motion to find his missing pack members. He's barely taken a few steps towards the perimeter fence when a blinding light illuminates his position from the top of the school and he freezes as Deanna’s strong voice cuts across the night.
“Daryl… so nice of you to show up. I knew you wouldn’t be far from your Alpha. Why don’t you put your weapon on the ground and come inside to join Rick and his charming lady companion.”
Daryl hesitates, his nerves jangling, but he knows there’s no way he's walking away and leaving Rick and Michonne behind that wall without him even though he can hear Rick's voice in his mind yelling for him to run. As a small group of Deanna’s people – once again all women, he notes to himself – appear to surround him, each of them heavily armed, he lowers his crossbow and lets it drop to the floor. They quickly relieve him of his knife and handgun then push him towards the entrance at the rear of the school where he's led through a series of identical hallways before being brought out into the auditorium. The tiered seating is empty but there’s a small group of armed women on the stage itself and his heartrate increases as he sees Rick and Michonne among them on their knees, both with their hands handcuffed behind them and Rick with a good deal of blood mixed in with the mud on his face. Daryl is forced up the steps onto the stage and then roughly cuffed alongside the others, his body stiffening against the hands on him but his eyes scanning his companions to make sure that they’re okay. Neither of them appear to be seriously injured, the blood on Rick's face coming from a small laceration above his left eye that is already healing and Daryl's fear subsides a little.
“I’m sorry,” Michonne whispers to him, her dark eyes filled with regret and something that Daryl can’t read, “this is my fault. I thought I saw-”
Before she can finish, Deanna appears from the darkened wings of the stage, striding out to meet them, flanked by Amanda and a woman they haven’t seen before, her Amazonian-like frame dwarfing the petite leader beside her.
“Well there’s the big, bad wolf pack,” Deanna beams, her fake politician’s smile still firmly in place. “I’ve been expecting you.”
“Deanna, this is just a misunderstanding,” Rick starts calmly. “We were jus-”
“You were just coming out here to spy on me, Rick, let’s not lie to one another, shall we?” Deanna interrupts him, her tone becoming icy.
“Look, we can work this out… it doesn’t have to change anything. We were just curious… you can’t blame us for that. We had to know who we were getting into bed with. Not everybody is who they seem anymore. You can’t take anyone at face value anymore.”
“That’s very true,” Deanna agrees, her shrewd eyes flicking from Rick to Daryl and back again, “and you two have shown me that. Do you think that I don’t know what’s going on between you?”
“What are you talking about?” Rick asks, pulling back his shoulders to look up at her. “You knew what we are from the minute we met… we didn’t hide that from you.”
“No but you did hide the fact that you’re a pair of filthy sinners, abominations in the eyes of the Lord. What… you didn’t think I could smell him all over you?” she asks, leaning down into Rick's face and Daryl issues a warning growl low in his throat which turns her attention to him instead. “And you… a pureblood… sullying your heritage with this blasphemy. You disgust me.”
“Look… who we choose to-” Rick begins and Daryl can hear the barely-controlled anger in his voice.
“Choose?” Deanna spits, whirling back to Rick and peeling her lips back to reveal the sharpened points of her fangs. “You don’t get to choose, that’s not how it works. A pureblood has the duty to continue that line… to strengthen our species not weaken it with this heresy. You’re weak… both of you… what you do makes you traitors to your kind and to God.”
“God?” Rick laughs and Daryl can see the unbridled fury rising on Deanna’s face. “You think God still exists in this world? That he what… created you in his image? You’re as much of an abomination as we are – more so if you think our sexuality determines our strength.”
"If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall surely be put to death; their blood is upon them,” Deanna quotes, her eyes blazing and spittle flying from her lips. “My heritage is older than you could ever imagine, Rick, and we’ve survived by respecting where we came from and who made us but I wouldn’t expect a filthy, godforsaken half breed like yourself to have any idea what faith and loyalty means.”
“So, what do you want with us?”
“Oh, I don’t want anything from you, Rick, in fact I’m going to take great delight in ending your godless existence,” Deanna sneers, stepping back to place her hands on her hips as she regards all three of them. “And then I’m going to take a trip to visit what’s left of your little band of sinners and I’m going to slaughter every last man I find there. The time of man is over, you’re living proof of that. This plague was brought on us as a sign, a means for the tide to turn and for women to take their rightful place for they are the bringers of new life whereas men have wrought nothing but destruction and death in their wake.”
“You’re crazy,” Daryl yells, his fists balling behind his back and the cold steel of his restraints cutting into the flesh of his wrists.
“And you’re a sinner - a weak, pathetic fool being led by the confusion in his heart and mind. You could never be a true leader with that sort of weakness in your soul but, don’t worry, I have a place for you in the new world, Daryl. Your mind may be weak but your blood is as pure as mine, I could smell it from the moment we met, and we’re going to need that if we want to secure our legacy for future generations. God has sent you to me to help me with my task and, I believe, for me to help you atone for your transgressions against him.”
“You want him as breeding stock?” Rick asks incredulously, his face changing from disgust to anger. “Over my dead body.”
He surges forward and up, the wolf appearing in his face as he snaps his jaws towards Deanna’s throat but she was obviously anticipating some sort of move on his part and she easily throws out a clawed hand to fend him off, using his momentum to send him crashing back to his knees. Seemingly from out of nowhere a gun appears in her hand and she presses it to Rick's temple causing Daryl and Michonne to try and rise but they’re quickly restrained by the others in Deanna’s group.
“Pathetic fool,” Deanna taunts, jabbing the gun barrel against Rick's flesh as he withdraws the wolf from his features and locks eyes with Daryl.
Daryl can barely draw breath, his vision swimming as he frantically looks for a way out, anything that can help Rick, and he’s about ready to launch himself at Deanna when a movement behind her catches his eye. A woman appears from the darkened side of the stage and Daryl stops breathing, convinced he’s seeing either a ghost or an angel come to usher them into the next life but there’s no mistaking who she is even with the close-cropped hair she’s now sporting or the ragged scar on her cheek that wasn’t there the last time they saw each other. As she steps quickly up to Deanna’s side, drawing her attention from Rick, she makes eye contact with Daryl for a moment and he can see every ounce of hardship she's had to endure in that one look but she still raises her chin as she locks eyes with the She-wolf. He stares in utter disbelief as she leans in to talk to Deanna and, from beside him, he hears Michonne’s painful whisper even though it’s barely a murmur on the air.
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