Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

DIXON.

It started over the stupidest thing.

One sudden movement, a shattered glass of water. That was it.

Except a broken glass in my house is the equivalent of the death penalty.

At first I tried to make it right, told him I was sorry over and over, tried to clean it up. I could almost hear Merle’s voice in the back of my head telling me how pathetic I sounded, stammering out my apologies and trying to sweep up the mess with my shaking hands.
Then the shouting started, hurting my ears. He got close to my face and pulled me up by the front of my shirt, screaming about how we didn't have the money to waste on me being so stupid.
He threw me back down and I landed on the shattered glass. I was bleeding, I knew that. Most of the damage was on the palms of my hands and my forearm. I think there were a few shards lodged in my arm, but there wasn't time to sort that out.

That’s when I realised that the apologies were pointless and it was time to start trying to escape, but he got me pinned down, I could feel his whiskey tinged breath warming my face. That’s when the punching started. I tried to cover my face, but he gripped my wrist and twisted it painfully behind my back, making me yell out. I tried to push him away with my bleeding palms, I left a bloody hand print on the front of his shirt.

This meant I got the belt.

He ripped off my shirt and forced me onto my front, I felt the glass pierce my stomach and I tried to wriggle away, my bloody hands slipping on the wet, blood stained floor.
More shouting, his mouth was next to my ear and he pulled on a tuft of my hair. I felt tears run down my face, the pain from the glass was bad, I saw blood smeared on the kitchen tiles, but if I didn't get away it was about to get much worse.

I didn't get away.

The first lash wasn't the worst, it hurt, shocked you, but it was always the second that hurt the most, because it would cross over the first lash, the cuts would criss-cross and entwine with each other. My back felt hot and wet, my ears were buzzing from the noise and the pain was making me feel sick. The third lash made me gag out of pain. I sobbed loudly and I tried to get away, but I was weak, useless. I kept hearing that word, useless, being yelled out in his gruff, drunken voice. Stupid, useless, waste of space…

The lashes stopped. For a moment I didn't think they would. Everything felt too quiet all of a sudden.
He pulled me roughly around and up, his face close to mine again.

One last slap.

He left me to bleed on the kitchen floor.

I tried to clean myself up. I waited till he left the house to visit the same five bars he went to every night. I staggered up the stairs and into the bathroom, hands fumbling with the near empty first-aid kit that was shoved under the sink. The blood was still pouring out, I pressed a towel against it to try and slow down the bleeding. I had to get it to stop. I had to, because I couldn't go down to the hospital. I couldn't tell them how I got the mess of cuts decorating my back, it was obvious what they were.

I swallowed down a sob. My back wouldn't stop bleeding. I hadn't even got round to sorting out the glass stuck in my hands, arms and stomach yet.
I needed stitched. I knew it, I felt the nagging feeling play at the back of my head.
But Ma wasn't here to do it. Neither was Merle. They were both just gone.

It hadn't been this bad for a while, he hadn't brought down the belt as hard as that since the first night Merle was gone. I gripped the grubby bathroom sink and looked at myself in the cracked, dirty mirror. I was pale and clammy and bruised black and blue.

Hospital. That’s where I needed to go.

I stumbled backwards, away from the sink and settled myself on the edge of the bathtub, till pressing the towel down on my back, although I was sure I had bled through the most of it.
What would I tell them? I needed an excuse. I needed one fast.
I decided to think of one while walking.

I wrapped some cheap bandaged around myself, to stop the blood best I could. There wasn't time to deal with my hands and stomach.

The doorbell rang.

I hesitated. I couldn't answer the door like this. But if it was important and I left it then I get belted all over again.

It rang again.
I had to open it.

I didn't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't the cops.
It was stupid for me not to expect it really, we got a visit from the cops every other week when Merle lived with us, drug raids and bar fights and drunk driving. I should be used to seeing them by now.

I didn't open the door fully, I cracked it open slightly in an effort to hide myself. I peered through the gap with the eye I knew wasn't bruised.

‘We were called out by a neighbour who heard shouting.’

I felt my vision start to go funny.
‘You alright kid?’
I tried to nod my head, but it hurt, everything hurt.

They pushed in, the door shoved against me and I staggered back, lost my footing and fell.

‘He’s bleeding heavily… Christ…’

A man, who didn't look too much older than me, approached me and knelt down next to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. I filched at the touch and backed away a bit.
‘What happened?’ he asked.
I heard someone ask for an ambulance. I panicked.
‘Fell down the stairs.’ I murmured, trying to pull myself away, to stand up. I needed to get them out of here or else he would kill me.
‘Okay, keep your eyes on me yeah?’ the young cop asked. I did, he had deep blue eyes that were filled with concern and had a definite brightness to them, wavy dark hair that was perfectly in place and slight crinkles at the corners of his mouth that showed he smiled a lot. I kept repeating these features to myself in my head, to give me something to concentrate on instead of the hot pain surging though my body.
‘We’re getting you some help okay? My partner just rang an ambulance, they’re going to fix you up okay?’
He sounded worried. He was trying not to, I could tell. But his eyes gave him away.
I just nodded.
‘Can you tell me your name?’
‘Daryl Dixon.’ I stammered, the pain from the gashes in my back was almost unbearable.
‘Daryl, that’s a good name. My names Rick Grimes. Can you tell me how old you are Daryl?’
‘Seventeen’ I said between gasps of pain.
I heard sirens, and someone shouting, that made me flinch again.
‘Hey, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay’ Rick said soothingly.

I tried to stay awake, I kept my eyes fixed onto his, but he started to slide out of focus.
Everything became muffled and I blacked out.

Chapter Text

GRIMES.

When we got called to the Dixon household I expected it to be a drugs bust. It wasn't uncommon, we've done it before. I personally haven’t. I haven’t had any dealings with the Dixon's yet. I've only been on the force for a few months, all that time Merle, the oldest Dixon brother, has been locked up for possession. Their Dad had been quiet, not causing any bar fights recently, and the youngest Dixon boy had a clean record.

When we found out it was a noise complaint from a concerned neighbour, I felt a little uncomfortable. Shane laughed it off, said red-neck scum like the Dixon's were usually loud-mouthed and drunk. ‘Ain't nothing to worry about’ he said, grinning and looking all excited because we finally got to have a dealing with the Dixon's.

We were the first car there. Hudgens and Dawson arrived just behind us, said it was the Dixon's and that we rookies would need back up for when it all went south.
I felt irritated at first, slightly offended that they didn't think we could handle it. Shane felt it too, I saw it on his face. But in the end I was glad they were there.

I had never seen the youngest Dixon brother before. Like I said, he had a clean track record. We had mug shots of his father and brother, both of them looked similar to each other, board shoulders, skin lined from drinking and drugs, angry expressions and dead eyes.
The youngest Dixon must have taken after his mother. He was small and slim with a mess of dark unwashed hair and big blue eyes that stood out on his pale face.
The smell of blood hit me immediately, Shane pushed his way into the house sending the Dixon boy tumbling backwards, I quickly knelt down next to him to see what the damage was.

‘He’s bleeding heavily.’ I stated, quickly taking in the mess of his arms and his bloodstained shirt.
‘Christ.’ Hudgens breathed next to me.
‘Call an ambulance.’

The poor kid didn't have a clue what was happening. He blinked at me as I spoke to him, trying to keep him awake. I heard Shane’s heavy footfalls move fast around the house, obviously trying to find the boy’s father.

He tried to push against me at first, muttering about how he had fallen down the stairs and how he was fine, but I didn't let him go, his struggling was weak and I held his shoulders as firmly as I could without causing him any more pain or panic. He eventually stopped struggling and he just clung on to the front on my shirt, leaving bloody hand prints on it. I tried to keep his mind off it, asking him questions, telling him it would be fine, although I was the slightest bit worried that it wasn't going to be. He told me his name was Daryl, course I already knew that.

Child abuse.
This was my first call out for a case involving child abuse.

I made sure I didn't lose eye contact with Daryl, because it seemed to be comforting him, he was shaking like a leaf and was growing paler and paler. The smell of blood grew stronger and I felt terrified.

‘There’s no one else in the house right now, just the kid’ I heard Shane say.

Daryl began to gasp out for air and his eyes became unfocused.
‘hey, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay’ I said soothingly, feeling desperate.
I heard sirens, ‘Thank Christ’ I heard Dawson mutter.

Daryl fell limp in my arms.

Chapter Text

DIXON.

I didn't want to open my eyes, because I didn't want to be met with the mess.

I didn't want to spend the day scrubbing my dried up blood off the kitchen floor or the bathroom sink. It hurt, everything ached and all I wanted was to sleep, just for a little while longer. He was probably still out, laying drunk in a gutter somewhere. I’d have a few more hours to sleep, surely.

I think my ears started to work after my brain did, because I started to hear a lot of funny noises. People talking, footsteps, a slight beeping sound. Maybe I wasn't in bed, I was on the couch downstairs and the TV was on. But my couch had never been this comfy. Come to think of it neither had my bed.

That’s when it started to come back to me. The cops, the ambulance, the young officer who said I had a good name.
Rick Grimes, I think he had said.

Dad was going to kill me all over again.

I snapped my eyes open and looked around. I was in a hospital bed, with an IV in my arm and I was hooked up to a machine that was beeping quietly. Panicking, I tried to sit up, but everywhere hurt so much I let out a grunt of pain and had to lie back down.
Just as I was considering pulling the IV out of my arm and escaping, I heard movement.
Rick was sitting in the chair next to my bed side he looked as if he had been asleep, there was blood on the front of his uniform and his sheriffs hat laid discarded on the window sill. I spotted a pair of my jeans and my grey sweater folded neatly on the side, he must have had the good sense to bring them so I would have something to wear when I left this place.

‘Morning sleepyhead.’ He said, sitting up and smiling at me.
I just stared at him, too bewildered to speak.
‘How you feeling?’ he asked me, starching out his arms and holding back a yawn.
‘Good, fine.’ I lied, not really paying attention to what I was saying. ‘How long you been sittin’ there?’ I asked him.
‘Since they brought you in.’ He said, smiling at me again.
I felt my cheeks flush red, I felt pathetic, I must look pathetic too if this poor guy had felt the need to sit next to me all night.
‘How long was I out for?’ I asked, noticing the moonlight glinting through the gaps in the blinds.
‘Bout six hours now.’ Rick said, looking down at his watch.
‘You didn't have to do that. Sit here all night. Don’t need no babysitter.’ I said gruffly, avoiding eye contact with him.
‘Never said you did. But you were cut up pretty badly. I thought you’d want some company when you woke up.’

I just shrugged, fiddling with the bed sheets. I wished I was wearing more than just a flimsy hospital gown. I didn't like being so exposed, Dad made me wear baggy clothing, lots of layers, even in the summer. Said I wasn't pleasant to look at, and he didn’t want people seeing the bruises and sticking their noses in.

I pulled the sheets up higher over myself.

‘Anyway Daryl I need to ask you a question and I need you to be honest with me okay?’ Rick started, standing up and taking a few steps closer to my bed. I knew what he was going to ask me.

‘I need to know what happened to you.’

I lied to him. I lied and lied and lied. I fell down the stairs. I caught my back on the rough wooden banisters, I went to the kitchen to make get myself some water, but I was shaking a lot, so I dropped it. Cut myself trying to clean it up.

He didn't believe me. Not one word, I could tell. He looked sad, half of me wanted to shove him away and tell him to leave me alone and that I didn't want his damn sympathy. The other half of me wanted to tell him the truth. I wanted to tell him how he hit me, belted me, staved me, carved into me with his penknife.

But I just kept on lying.

‘Daryl, you can tell me the truth, I can sort it all out for you.’
‘That is the truth.’
‘Then what was the shouting about?’ He asked me.

I hadn't thought about that.

‘He likes his football, gets real into it. Team was losing, he got shoutin’
‘Where was he when you fell?’
‘Gone to get a drink probably.’ That last part wasn't a lie; I could probably even list the names of the bars he had visited.
Rick looked disappointed in me. I felt angry because I didn't owe the truth to this man, I didn't even know him. But I found myself feeling more guilty than I was angry, I wished he would stop looking at me like that.

‘That’s the truth Officer.’ I said, not making eye contact.
‘Call me Rick.’ He smiled. I nodded.
‘Right Daryl, I’ll go get the nurses to check you over, whenever it is you’re free to leave here would you like to return home?’ he asked me.

No, no God don’t send me back there.

‘Yeah, if that’s not too much trouble Officer.’
‘Rick’ he corrected me. I nodded, not really paying attention.

It was stupid, but I kind of wished he had stayed a bit longer.

Chapter Text

GRIMES.

‘Kids awake’ I said as soon as Shane picked up the phone.

‘Yeah? What he say?’ Shane sounded tired and impatient. It was the early hours of the morning so I had probably woke him up and he was usually at his worst when he had been woken up.

‘Fell down the stairs. Went to get himself a glass of water, knocked it over and cut his hands and arms trying to clean it up.’

‘You can’t possible believe that can you?’ Shane asked me.
‘Course I don’t, but what else can I do? Force it out of him?’ I asked, speaking in a hushed voice so no one over heard me.

‘Might have to’ Shane said, I could tell he was shrugging his shoulders.

‘How am I supposed to do that then huh? He’s a kid, he’s scared, he’s in pain.’
‘Just leave it then man, he don’t wanna talk then he don’t wanna talk, let him go back if that’s what he wants.’
Shane had seen exactly what I had. He had seen the blood and the broken glass and the state that boy was in when we found him, yet he was ready to give up and sent him straight back there without even trying. Sometimes I wondered if Shane really was the good person I always thought he was.

‘How can you be okay with letting him go back there?’ I asked, not bothering to keep the angry tone out of my voice.

‘He’s a Dixon, probably gunna get himself arrested and locked up soon anyway. It’s what they do.’
‘His record is clean.’ I spat, feeling disgusted that he was even thinking these things, let alone saying them out loud.
‘Whatever. Just get home and get some rest. You’re working later.’

I slammed the payphone back onto the wall and had to take a few minutes to calm down.

*

I went back in to see Daryl. He sitting up, drinking a cup of water in his freshly bandaged hands. His face was bruised, he had a black eye and his lip was split at the side. I saw faded yellow bruising on his neck that looked old, I also noticed the scars littering the top of his arms. I didn't ask about them.

‘How’s it looking then? I asked him, taking my seat at the side of his bed back.

‘Ain't that bad really. Couple a’ stitches is all. Could've done it myself if it wasn't in such a difficult place.’
It was worse than just a couple of stitches, he had lost a lot of blood, it was a miracle that hadn't had to perform a blood transfusion.

‘I'm sorry ‘bout that’ Daryl said, pointing a finger at my shirt. I looked down and noticed the bloody hand prints he had left when he clung onto me. ‘Didn't mean ta mess up ya cop uniform.’ He said somewhat nervously.
‘Ah don’t worry about it, ain't no big deal.’ I reassured him. ‘I got a few spares to last while I clean this one up.’
He smiled slightly and nodded.

‘How long did the doctor say you had to stay here?’ I asked him.
‘Said he wants to keep me in for the rest of the night to keep an eye on the cuts, case they start bleeding again.’
‘That’s not so bad then’ I said, hoping to get another mile out of him.
‘I suppose, I'm gunna miss this bed though. Comfier than mine at least.’ He chuckled, pulling the covers closer around himself.
I felt a pang of guilt. Every hospital bed I've ever slept in felt horrible. If he thought this was comfy I didn't want to imagine what his felt like to sleep on.

‘I’ll come back for you at noon then, take you home?’
Daryl shrugged. ‘You don’t have to, I can find my own way back.’
‘Daryl, I'm a cop, I live for the good deeds in life. Let me have this one yeah?’
He smiled slightly. ‘Fine, I suppose I can let you give me a lift.’
‘Okay, you get some rest, I’ll see you later.’ I said, standing up and stretching again. I was exhausted, I’d spent six hours trying to nap on that uncomfortable hospital chair.
Daryl just nodded as I left before he slid down in the bed, making sure the sheets were brought up to his chin.

Chapter Text

DIXON.

‘How do you feel this morning Daryl?’ Dr. Mamet asked me. He was a nervous looking guy with round glasses and a slight stutter, would have been the kind of kid Merle would have bullied at school.

‘Peachy’ I growled. The pain in my back was dull and constant and my palms and wrists were sore.

‘You’re stitches seem to have held, and there’s been no more bleeding so I guess you can be on your way.’
I nodded, sitting up and reaching out for my clothes, I was desperate to get out of this stupid hospital gown and back into my jeans. ‘You’ll have to come back in 6 weeks to get the stitched taken out’ Dr. Mamet said, tapping his pen nervously against his clipboard.
‘Got it. I’ll arrange something nearer the time.’ I muttered. I could take them out myself, easy. I’d done it hundreds of times before. I wouldn't need to come back here.

Dr. Mamet left and I drew the curtains around my bed so I could change. It was painful, my entire body was stiff and aching and sore. I struggled to get my jeans on, my shoes even more so. I couldn't bend over properly because of my back, I didn't want to pull on the stitches. Once my jeans were on I found that the waistband rubbed painfully against my bruised and cut stomach. I didn't need any stitches on my stomach thank god, but it was still painful, I had a dressing over the worst of it. I pulled my sweater over my head and winched as I pulled my bruised face through the neck hole.

I didn't know where I was supposed to be meeting Rick, I don’t even know if he would have bothered showing up or if he even remembered. I was a Dixon, and the cops hated the Dixon's, why should I be an exception? I didn't expect him to show up. I started mentally mapping out the route home in my head, I had only ever been to the hospital once before to visit my Ma, but that was a long time ago now and my memories of that time are a little rusty.

‘Hey kid, still want that lift?’

And there he was, sitting in the waiting room for my ward. I noticed he had changed his shirt, I also noticed the dark circles under his eyes and I realized that he probably didn't get much sleep last night because he had wasted six hours of his time sitting in an uncomfortable chair waiting for me to wake up. I felt a pang of guilt in my bruised stomach.

I nodded, unsure of what to say, I honestly didn't think he would turn up.
‘You feeling any better today?’ he asked me as we started to walk down the pristine white hallways to the exit.
‘M’fine, bit sore I suppose.’
‘Gotta be more careful on them stairs next time. Might not survive the next fall.’
I cringed at that last bit because he knew. And the worst part was he might be right.
‘I’ll be more careful.’ I mumbled.

It was hot outside. The sun was shining down brightly and I could feel myself start to sweat almost immediately. I followed Rick to his Sheriff’s car and he opened the door to the passenger seat for me. ‘I could've done it’ I muttered, and he just nodded and says ‘I know.’

All I could think was I bet this is a first time a Dixon's ever sat willingly in a cop car.

I felt ashamed. Merle would kill me if he knew I was accepting help from a cop. Says their all slimy bastards that can’t be trusted. Says they’ll try and pin me for something just because of my last name.

I looked over at Rick, he caught my gaze and smiled at me.
He didn't seem so bad.

I didn't speak much on the drive back to my house. Rick had a pretty cool collection of rock tapes that we listened too, and every once in a while he would ask me if I felt okay and if I needed the AC turned up or down. I made a little bit of small talk, I asked him if he was working today, he said that he and his partner Shane were on patrol in the afternoon, short shift though apparently, nice and easy.

When we pulled up outside my house I felt my heart sink. I hoped my Dad hadn't found his way back yet. Hoped he wouldn't see the cop car, hoped he would be too hung-over to ask questions about where I had been or the bandages. My thoughts much have shown on my face because Rick reached out to touch my shoulder.
I flinched away instinctively and then I felt myself turn bright red. He withdrew his touch as though he had been burnt but he never said anything of it.

‘You sure you’re going to be okay?’ he asked me in a quiet voice.
I nodded. ‘I’ll be fine.’ I said flatly, letting myself out of the car. The longer we sat outside the more chance there was that he’d spot us.
‘Okay, well take care of yourself’ Rick said out of the car window.
I nodded again. ‘Thanks for the ride and everything.’ I said, I couldn't help feeling awkward. I had never been any good at showing gratitude or, well any emotion really, except anger. I had no problem showing that unless Dad was in the room.
‘No trouble. I’ll see you around.’ He gave me one finale smile before he drove off, leaving me standing on my driveway staring after him.

*

I hoped the house would be empty. I really did hope. But it wasn't. There he was, sprawled on the sofa in the clothes he was wearing last night, snoring heavily. He wasn't a light sleeper but I wasn't going to take my chances, so I tip-toed past him and carefully crept up the creaky staircase.

My room was nothing special. It was the size of a large cupboard, a worn out mattress pushed against the wall and a broken chest of draws filled with Merle's hand-me-downs. I lowered myself down on my mattress, groaning in pain as I went. It hadn't been this bad in a long time. I stared up at my cracked ceiling that was tinged yellow from cigarette smoke and I tried to clear my mind of everything.

Peace didn't come, but a few tears did. I wiped them roughly off my face before they trickled down.

‘Dixon’s don’t cry boy.’ I heard Merle's voice hiss in my head. ‘You’re weak. Pathetic. Got to man up lil’ brother.’
If anything the voice made me cry more.

‘Too soft for your own good.’

Chapter Text

GRIMES.

I couldn't focus. I wasn't paying attention to anything. A kid could have come at me with a gun and I wouldn't have noticed till I had a bullet in my head.
Shane forced coffee down my throat, told me I was just tired, refused to believe I was still worried about the Dixon kid.
Thank God we didn't get called out anywhere. I would have been useless.

We sat in the car, I was on my forth cup of coffee, Shane was on his second. He was going on and on about the girl he had been seeing and about yesterday’s football game and tomorrows baseball game. I nodded my head every once in a while so he would think I was listening, but I was honestly sick of hearing about Lindsey-May and the Falcons.

I couldn't believe I had let Daryl go back into that house.

I had just driven him back to the place where he was getting beaten to a pulp.

The worst part was he willingly walked back into that house, a though it wasn't a big deal. Like it didn't even bother him. It did, he was terrified I saw it in his eyes, he had kept his face set, but his eyes gave him up. When Daryl flinched at my touch I wanted to go into that house and find his Dad and break his jaw for doing that to Daryl, for making him so scared of every touch that came his way.

It would happen again. I knew that. Sooner or later I would get called out again, for the shouting and the screaming, and he would come to the door bruised and bleeding and trying to sell another story about how he had fallen down the stairs. That’s if we were lucky and he could walk and talk.

I momentarily wanted to throw up my coffee.

‘You even listening to me man?’ Shane's indignant voice cut through my train of thought.
‘Yeah course.’ I lied. I hadn't been listening for the last ten minutes at least.

‘You need to wake up man. Shouldn't have stayed up all night at that hospital, you got a job to do.’ Shane said, matter-of-factly.
‘I had to question him when he woke up.’
‘Should’a gone home, gone to bed. You could have gone back to question him in the morning.’
‘I didn't want him to wake up alone.’

Shane stared at me as though I was stupid. Mouth slightly open, a look of disbelief in his eyes.
‘He’s a Dixon. It doesn't matter. He’s probably had to do it loads of time before.’
‘Oh and that makes it any better?’ I snapped at him.
‘I'm just saying it’s not important. You got to focus on the job.’
‘Making sure kids like him are safe is part of my job!’ I snarled, my voice raised.

He didn't respond to that. He just sighed and turned away as though he had given up trying to talk sense into me. As if I was too damn stupid to understand.
I rolled my eyes and let him believe that.

*

When our shift finished, I left without giving him so much as a goodbye.
I needed to cool off for a few days before I saw him again. I was glad I had the weekend off.

I knew that Shane and a few other guys from the station were going down to the pub tonight. They asked me to go, I was still a few months away from being 21 but they said that I didn't have to drink with them. I was tired and pissed off and I knew I wouldn't have enjoyed any of it, so I called it a day and headed back to my apartment.

My apartment was on the top floor of a small block of apartments. It was only four stories high and had four apartments on each floor. My apartment needed a lot of work doing to it, I had only gotten round to repainting the living room, the other rooms were decorated with peeling floral wallpaper that I had tried to cover with large posters of various different bands. It was small apartment and got a bit cold during the winter, but it had everything I needed for now. Mom told me she was proud of me, because I had a good job and my own apartment and I was only 20. I said I was just lucky. She said there’s no such thing as luck, and that I did it on my own.

I wasn't really tired yet, too much coffee, but I went to bed anyway.

I tossed and turned for a while, which I put down to a mixture of caffeine and worry. I couldn't stop thinking about Daryl. He could be getting new additions to the mess of cuts and bruises covering him right now and there was nothing I could do about it. I tried not to picture it, I had spent all day trying to erase the image of his blood covering the kitchen floor and his pale, bruised face as he clung to the front of my shirt.

I did have one comforting thought though.

I left my phone number in Daryl’s jean pocket when I brought him some clothes, so maybe, if things got bad, or he changed his mind and wanted to tell me the truth, maybe he would call.

That’s the thought that got me to sleep.

Chapter Text

DIXON.

I had to clean the kitchen after all. And the bathroom, because I found my bloody hand-prints decorating the sink and the bathtub.

The blood had dried and was harder to get off. My back hurt like a bitch and my palms stung from scrubbing it up.

I rewarded myself with a sandwich made of stale bread and cheap corner shop ham. I poured myself a glass of water and took extra care not to knock it.
I was really hungry. I had eaten at the hospital, they gave me a free breakfast, just cereal and toast but it wasn't stale and they had milk that was in date.
That felt like a month ago.

I ate one half of my sandwich quickly, barely pausing to chew it. I probably would've got through the second half in that speed if I hadn't been interrupted.

‘Where’ve you been at boy?’

My appetite vanished immediately.

‘I-I just went out to the woods, went hunting.’ I was angry with myself for stuttering out my lie, I could hear Merle somewhere in the back of my head laughing at me.

‘Whatda catch?’ he asked me in his gruff voice, talking a step into the kitchen and standing across the table from me, arms crossed.
‘Nothing. Woods were quiet.’ I murmured, looking down at my plate.
‘Why you eating that then?’ he asked, not moving. ‘You know the rule. You don’t catch, you don’t eat.’

I nodded and stammered out an apology.

He took a few slow steps around the table towards me and I felt the blood drain from my face. I kept my stare fixed down on my plate, I didn't want to risk eye contact.
‘Can’t have you sitting around doing nothin’ and expecting to get fed can we?’
I shook my head, ‘no Sir’ I agreed, my voice almost a whisper.

‘Can’t afford to be feeding the likes of you. You don’t need it, look at you! You need the exercise.’ He jeered. I had to pull my gaze off my half eaten sandwich and down to my hands.
‘You’ll get fat. Soft. Is that what you want?’ he bent down to my height, his face close to mine. My breath came out in shaky rasps and I still didn't turn to look at him, I was blushing red and wanted nothing more than to disappear. I leaned in, trying to make myself smaller.

I took too long to answer.

He grabbed my hair roughly and pulled my head back and round to face his. ‘I said is that what you want!’ he shouted, his face so close to mine our noses were practically touching. His breath smelt like whiskey and vomit and I felt flecks of his saliva hit my face.
‘No Sir’ I answered quickly, trying to look anywhere but into his eyes.

He kept me in that hold for a moment, although it felt like years. I could hear the clock ticking in the background and his breath coming out and hitting my face in rasps. If he hit me now, that would be it. There was never just a single smack, never one punch. If he started, he couldn't stop himself. I held my breath.

He let me go. I could breathe again.

He snatched the plate away and threw the sandwich in the bin. ‘No food till you catch something.’

‘Yes Sir.’

‘Don’t worry. You can go without it for a while, you got enough meat on your bones for that.’
He looked me up and down, laughed, and left. I heard the TV being switched on and the sound of a bottle being opened.

I retreated to my bedroom, ignoring the rumbles of my stomach.

*

I went to sleep hungry most nights. This wasn't new. Nothing I hadn't experienced before.

I knew I wouldn't be able to hunt until my back and arms and hand had healed. I would be too sore and stiff to work my crossbow. It would be a waste of time.
I was going to be hungry for a while.

But like he said, I could last a while without it. I had done before.

I took off my shirt to check my wounds. They looked clean, still sore, but it was in much better shape than last night. I put a fresh dressing around the wounds on my back, but I left the cuts on my stomach uncovered, because they weren't that bad and they needed air. I did that same to my wrists, but I left my palms covered.

I checked out my bruises in the mirror over the bathroom sink, it was the only mirror we had in the house. My black eye had gone down, so had the swelling in my cheek. It was a nice purple colour though, that would take a while to fade. I had a couple of old, faded bruises littering my neck and chest. Dad had held me in a choke-hold last week after coming home drunk and pissed off cause he had lost money out gambling.
My side was covered in fresh, dark bruising that covered my ribs. I could count my ribs in the mirror from where I was standing. I ran my fingers over them just to make sure I could really feel them and I wasn't just imagining it.

His insults and taunting happened more often than the punching, and the punching was happening every other day.

I turned away from the mirror and retreated back into my bedroom. I needed sleep, I wasn't getting any energy through food at the moment so I needed to reserve every bit of energy I had left.

As I was taking off my jeans I heard something crumble in the pockets.
I found a folded piece of scrap paper with a phone number scrawled on it.

'If you need anything or just want to chat, don’t hesitate to call me. Rick Grimes.'

I fell asleep with the note still clutched in my hand.

Chapter Text

GRIMES.

I hadn't spoken to Shane since our disagreement yesterday. I came close to calling him, not because I wanted to try and make things right, because I was bored and wanted to get out of my apartment. It’s not like I didn't have other friends, it’s just Shane was always free when I was, so it was much easier to arrange something with him.

I couldn't bring myself to call him, I didn't want him to think what he said was okay.

I did a few chores to keep myself occupied. Took my washing down to the laundry room, where I had a chat with Carol, the nice lady who lived across the hall from me with her young daughter Sophia. I talked to her briefly about Daryl, she was very understanding. When I finished the laundry, I changed my bed sheets and I was about to make a start on cleaning the loo when my phone rang.

I thought it was going to be Shane calling to see what I was doing, maybe even to apologise, although Shane was never good with apologies.
I picked up the phone and I wasn't met with Shane’s voice, but a voice that sounded much younger, more southern and a little nervous.

‘Hello? Is this Rick Grimes?’
‘Daryl?’

I was shocked he called me. And I was also worried, because what if he was calling because something bad had happened.

‘Yeah, I found your number in my pocket, thought I should probably thank you for waiting around at the hospital for me.’ Daryl said, the phone seemed to enhance his deep southern accent.

‘Oh don’t worry about it. How are you feeling?’ I asked, I was worried he had called me because something was wrong.
‘M’fine, it don’t hurt much, it ain't bled anymore neither.’

He was lying, I knew that, but like I did in the hospital, I played along.
‘That’s good to hear.’
‘Suppose so.’

I hesitated before I spoke again.
‘I was about to go out for coffee or something, wonder if you want to come? If you’re feeling up for it that is.’
I don’t know what I was thinking when I asked. All I knew is I wanted to have an excuse not to clean the rest of my apartment and I wanted to see for myself that the kid really was alright.

Daryl paused, slightly taken aback by my offer.
‘Don’t got no money.’ Was his answer, short and simple.
‘Tell you what, it’s on me. After the fall you had you deserve something good.’
Another pause.
‘I ain’t a charity.’ He muttered. I heard him shuffle on the other end of the phone.
‘Don’t think of it as charity, think of it as a friend buying coffee for a friend.’
‘We don’t know each other.’
‘Well I’d like to.’

He sighed before he gave in.
‘Okay. What time?’

My face spilt into a wide grin. ‘How’s half 2 for you? I’ll pick you up from yours?’
‘Half two’s okay, but if it’s not too much trouble Officer, could I be picked up at the corner of my street?’
‘That’s fine. And if we’re gunna be friends you can’t keep on calling me Officer.’
‘Rick.’ He said, he sounded a little nervous, but I could tell he was smiling.
‘Yeah, I’ll see you at half two.’

We disconnected, and there I stood in my kitchenette, grinning like an idiot with the phone still in my hand.

Chapter Text

DIXON.

I have no idea why I agreed to it. If it was anyone else I would have told them to piss off and stop being so sympathetic. I didn't need him looking out for me. I could look out for myself, I've always had too. Why he felt the need to step in baffled me, but what I found even more shocking was how okay I was with letting him. Why a cop of all people. Merle would be furious when he found out, probably give me a beating of his own, although he hadn't done that since I was old enough the hit back and cause damage.

It wasn't as warm as it had been yesterday. I had wrapped myself in my leather jacket with the angel wings on the back that Merle got me for my birthday two years ago. It’s the only piece of clothing I own that’s new and was brought just for me. It’s too big for me even now, but he said I’d grow into it. No point in spending his hard earned money on a jacket that wouldn't fit a few years down the line.

I lived in the roughest part of town. Cops weren't welcome here, I was barely welcome here. Merle got in a lot of money trouble with some of the guys around here and I knew that if he didn't get it back to them soon I would be used as a ransom, and that would probably involve me getting my face smashed in with a crowbar.

I hoped Rick would hurry up.

I started to grow nervous, maybe he’d forgotten, or it was all just a joke and he never had any intention of showing up.

Turns out he was just running a little late.
He pulled up at the corner in a battered old car and I let myself into the passenger seat.
‘Sorry about being late.’ He apologised as I did my seat belt up.
‘Don’t worry about it, I'm nearly always late for everything.’ I said smiling at him.
‘And I'm nearly always early’ Rick said, and was drove off. I gingerly rested my back against the seat, it was still sore and the seat belt was pressing down painfully on the busies on my shoulder and my battered stomach. I winched a bit as I shuffled around trying to get myself into a position where it didn't hurt like hell.

‘You alright there?’ Rick asked me, sounded concerned.
‘Yeah, fine.’ I muttered, immediately putting a stop to my fidgeting.

‘You sure about that?’

Pain shot through my back and I suppressed a gasp.
‘M’fine’ I snapped. I regretted snapping at him, I almost said I was sorry.

He didn't ask me again for the rest of the car ride.

I felt guilty, so I tried to make other conversation, I had never been very good at talking, I had never really needed to talk. Mum was always too drunk to comprehend what was coming out of my mouth, Dad hit me whenever I opened my mouth, and Merle did all the talking for me. I asked him how his shift at the station was yesterday, told me it was dull, that he had been stuck in a cop car on call and he had a disagreement with his partner.

‘What was the disagreement about?’ I asked him, curiously.
‘He didn't share my view on something. Said I was wrong and was being stupid.’

‘Were you?’ I asked, my voice a little quieter than before. If I asked my Dad a question like that he would beat me to high hell.
Rick turned to look at me quickly, I couldn't stop myself from filching slightly at the sudden movement. I could tell he noticed, he looked a little sad and put his gaze back on the road.

‘No, I wasn't.’ he said firmly. I just nodded.

We pulled up in the car park and Rick turned off the engine, it was raining outside now, raindrops pattering against the windshield. ‘Do you want to go and drink in? Or would you rather have it in the car?’ Rick asked me.
I would have said in the car, but my back was hurting from the seat and I felt like I needed to stretch, so I said drink in, and he seemed happy I said that.

We ran across the car park to avoid getting so wet, normally I would have pulled my jacket over my head, but I was so stiff and sore I didn't even bother, plus the rain felt nice on my bruised face.

The coffee shop was near empty. A group of Mothers sat around a large table with their babies on their laps, chatting and laughing, and there was a middle-aged man in a business suit with today’s paper spread out in front of him.
Rick did the talking with the guy at the till. He was young, my age maybe and he was Asian. A ‘Chinaman’ as Merle would say. They seemed to know each other, not well, I guessed it was because Rick was a regular customer. He asked Rick if he wanted the usual, Rick nodded and then added my order of a small black coffee. That’s when the guy behind the till noticed me, he stared for a moment, taking in the bruises I assume, I just nodded at him.

‘Do you want anything else?’ He asked us. Rick turned to me, I shook my head. I didn't have any money for anything else.
‘You sure? It’s on me’ Rick asked, I shook my head again, trying my damn hardest not to stare at the assortment of muffins and pastries under the glass cover at the side of the till. My stomach gave a growl and I coughed over it, so no one would hear.

‘I’ll take two of those Muffins, the blueberry one and the chocolate one.’ Rick said to the Chinaman. I stared at him, wondering why he got two because I said I didn't want one. I didn't have any money and if Dad found out which I knew was extremely unlikely but still possible he would put me under the belt again. in fact if Dad found out I was even hanging out with a cop he would put me under the belt, accepting charity food from the cop was the cherry on top of the cake.

‘Got it.’ The Chinaman said, he put the muffins on two little white plates and then proceeded to make our coffees. ‘Take a seat, I’ll bring the coffee to your table.’ He said, smiling at us. Rick picked up the plates and I followed him to the back of the coffee shop away from the group of Mothers and the man with the newspaper, they all gave me a strange, slightly weary look as I passed them.
We sat down at a small round table with two leather armchairs either side. I slowly lowered myself down, trying not to grimace in pain.

‘Chocolate or blueberry?’ Rick asked me, pointing to the two plates in front of us.
‘M’not hungry.’ I stated, looking down at my hands.
I was lying, obviously. That half a sandwich I had yesterday afternoon hadn't been very filling and felt like a lifetime ago.

‘Daryl, you look like you haven’t eaten in days. Just humour me and pick one yeah?’

I kept my gaze down at my hands, trying to ignore the way my stomach felt like it was eating itself. I’d experience it before, gone hungry for much longer than this. I didn't need to eat right now.
But god damn I wanted too.

‘Is the chocolate one okay?’ I asked him, my voice quieter than expected.
‘Yeah, blueberry’s my favourite anyway.’ Rick grinned, pulled the blueberry one towards himself.

The Chinaman came over with our drinks, I noticed his nametag said ‘Glenn.’
‘Thanks Glenn.’ I nodded at him, making a point to use his name because I knew that was something my brother would never do.
Glenn looked slightly surprised, but he grinned at me all the same and said ‘no problem’ before he returned to his post behind the till.

The coffee was good, I had to add sugar because it was a bit too bitter for my taste. I didn't need milk, we never had milk in the house so I’d kind of just gotten used to it. But ever since Merle got sent back to the lock up we haven’t even had coffee in the house. If Merle was good for anything it was making sure our cupboards were at least half stocked. Dad was always too drunk and too poor for grocery shopping.

‘You didn't have to do this.’ I said to Rick between a gulp of my coffee.
‘I know that, but I wanted too.’ Rick said. ‘And I figured that you’re better company than the idiots I work with.’
‘Yeah, my brother says cops are idiots too.’ I said, letting myself smile. ‘You seem alright though.’
Rick grinned, ‘I would hope so, I just brought you coffee.’
I let my smile spread a bit more. ‘It’s good coffee. Reminds me of my Ma.’

‘How so?’ Rick asked me, he looked genuinely interested, leaning forward a bit in his chair and resting his coffee cup back down on the table. I never got to talk about my Ma, Dad forbid me from even mentioning her, Merle knew everything already, and I don’t think he liked talking about her or hearing about her. I think he feels bad because he wasn't there when it ended, I've never asked him if that was the case though because I didn't want my teeth knocked out. And I didn't really have anyone else to talk to about things like my Ma.

‘Well, my Ma was a big drinker, always waking up with a hangover, never being able to move because her head was so bad. I used to make her a coffee every morning to try and get her up, because my brother Merle always said that coffee did that. She only ever took a few sips, sometimes she wouldn't touch it at all, she would never get up, not until mid afternoon anyway. I used to try and drink the rest of it, never liked it much, I was only a kid, but I liked to pretend that I did.’

I finished my story and Rick looked slightly sad again.

‘Coffee here’s much better than what I used to make.’ I added, taking another gulp.

We were both quiet for a bit while we finished out drinks. I still hadn't touched the chocolate muffing laid out on the little white plate in front of me. It was stupid but I was a little scared that if I so much as touched it, Dad would burst through that door and start smacking me about the place.

It was stupid. And I weren't scared of nothing.

I broke a off a small piece and ate it. Rick seemed pleased.

I hadn't had chocolate in a long time. When I used to help out Merle with dealing he would give me a small share of the cash, occasionally I would buy myself a chocolate bar then, as well as a bunch of other pointless crap I didn't need. I did end up spending the money on things I needed though. Most of it went towards my crossbow. Merle took me out and helped me pick, then he brought it for me using my money cause I was too young to be buying such things according to the man behind the till. Merle gave me a big talk about how it weren't no toy and if I pointed it at anything, animal or human, I had to really mean it. It was too big and too heavy for me at first, I was only 11, I couldn't hit a deer if it stood still and stared me in the face. Merle taught me how to track when he wasn't busy getting high or being in lock up, I taught myself how to do the rest.

The muffin didn't fill me up much, but it was something. I sheepishly thanked Rick for spending his money on me, he acted as though it was nothing.
On our way out, Glenn said goodbye to us in his cheery voice, I nodded at him, he seemed like a nice enough guy. Rick gave him a wave and said ‘We’ll see you soon’ and then we sprinted back to the car in the pouring rain.

Chapter Text

GRIMES.

‘Do you want me to drive you home now or do you wanna hang out at my place for a while?’

I wanted to keep him away from that house for a long as he would let me.
He looked at me hesitantly, considering my offer.
‘We could watch a film or something, you could pick.’ I added.
I think that won him over, I could tell he was holding back a grin as he said, ‘Okay, yours it is.’

I felt relief wash over me. I didn't have to drive him back to that place yet. This way there was at least another two hours of knowing he was safe.

He chattered to me as I drove, turns out he had a lot to talk about. I asked him about school and he looked displeased at the mention of it, but he told me about it all the same. His favourite subject was history, he hated math and had just got a B on an English essay paper about Of Mice and Men. I congratulated him on his essay mark, and he looked a little surprised and shrugged it off, saying it weren't no big deal, but I could tell he was pleased all the same.

‘So what do you want to do when you leave school then?’ I asked him. He frowned and shrugged, ‘I ain't really thought about it.’
‘Well when you were a kid, what did you want to be then?’ I asked him. I had always wanted to be a cop, when I was a kid I had a plastic sheriffs badge and a toy gun, Shane had one too, and one of us would be the bank robber and one of us would be the cop, although I seem to remember Shane forcing me to let him play the cop most of the time.

‘Fireman’ Daryl said sheepishly, turning a little pink.

I was hit with a sudden mental image of Daryl dressed as a fireman and I couldn't help but grin. ‘You’d be a good Fireman, but you would have to cut your hair though.’
Daryl grinned and instinctively pushed his fingers through his untidy dark hair, it was always falling in front of his eyes.

I pulled up outside my apartment block and I noticed how Daryl was looking around in awe. ‘You live in a nice place.’ He said, letting himself out the car and having a look around.
It was nice enough, neighbours were friendly, there was a kid’s play park across the street and a small grocery store just up the road. The neighbourhood wasn't anything fancy, it was relatively cheap place to live and the apartment building was quite old now.

The rain had ceased and the sun could just be seen behind the departing grey clouds, Daryl shielded the sun from his eyes and looked up at my building.
‘Which floor do you live on?’ he asked.
‘Top floor, that’s my bedroom window right there.’ I said pointing up to the first window on the left.

The lift was out of order as always. I don’t think it had worked as long as I had lived there. Moving in had been a challenge, lugging box after box up the stairs. Shane turned it into a competition of who could take the most boxes up at once, the competition resulted in a box full of smashed plates and a sprained wrist on my part. Shane had found it hilarious.

Daryl found the stairs tough, he started to grimace in pain after the second flight, although he tried desperately hard not to show it. I humoured him and didn't bring it up, he didn't like to be called out on these kind of things. I slowed down though so he didn't have to push himself as much. He was panting by the time we reached the top, he lent against the wall while I unlocked my apartment door and I heard his stomach rumble, he quickly coughed over the top of it to try and hide the noise, I had noticed him do the same thing earlier.

His eyes widened at the sight of my apartment. He took a few steps in and looked around, I didn't bother trying to hide my smile. I had never been house-proud like my Mom was, but it was nice to know that someone though my apartment was cool.

‘So what do you think?’ I asked him, although I already knew the answer.
‘I like it, it’s great.’ He said, still looking around, I noticed his eyes catching on my collection of CDs and films I had stacked on the shelves next to my TV.

‘Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll fix you something to eat.’ I offered, making a slight gesture to the old navy-blue couch that was facing the TV.

His expression dropped immediately.
‘M’not hungry. Thank you for the offer’ he said gruffly, I watched as his arms twisted around his middle.

I knew Daryl didn't like to be asked if he was sure about something, he didn't like to be doubted. I asked him anyway. But instead of snapping at me like I had expected, he avoided my eyes and said he was sure.

He looked like he was staving.

Like literally staving, he showed signs of weight loss, mostly in his face, but I noticed where he had made extra holes in his belt, although his t-shirt usually hung loosely over the top of his jeans hiding it. He was wearing a lot of layers, but I would have placed a bet that his ribs and shoulder blades were visible underneath. He was hungry, I could tell, he was pale and shaky and his stomach kept growling, and no matter how loudly he fake-coughed over it, I could hear.

I didn't know why it was he was avoiding eating, but I had a gut feeling it was something to do with the same man who had giving his those lashes on his back and the dark bruising on his face.

Daryl didn't like to be confronted. I couldn't ask him why he was avoiding it because he would rip my head off, I couldn't patronize him, and he didn't appreciate signs of sympathy much. If I was going to help, I had to dig up the issue without him knowing that was what I was trying to do. I had to ask him the right questions, and be discreet about it.

‘Okay, pick out movie; I'm going to make myself something to eat.’
He seemed satisfied with that and eagerly headed over to my film collection, eyes scanning over the many different titles. I retreated to the kitchenette to make popcorn, because he might eat it if it was there without even realising, he would be distracted by the film.

‘You chosen one yet?’ I called to him from the kitchenette, he didn't look around at me, he was too busy trying to decide. ‘No, there’s a lot to choose from.’
‘Why don’t you pick something you haven’t seen before?’ I called back over the sound of the popcorn that was slowly starting to pop.
‘I haven’t seen any of them before.’ He said, a little more quietly, turning around to look at me.

I felt bad about that, I probably should have guessed it, the kid lived in a house that barely passed as a shack in the roughest part of town with only one parent who was an abusive alcoholic. Where the hell would he get the money or the means to watch films from?

‘Well what sounds good?’ I asked, opening the microwave ad pouring the popcorn into a large bowl.

‘What’s Die Hard?’

I started to grin like an idiot.

Me and Shane used to watch die hard all the time, it was our favourite film. We used to think that being a cop would be exactly like it was in that film, and that we would get to fight terrorists and hunt down the world’s most wanted criminals and be pretty much invincible. But the truth about being a cop in a small town like where I lived was the most excited thing to happen was a rare car chase, the towns drug-dealer wasn’t what you would class as a ‘master-mind’ and getting punched in the face by the guy in the drunk tank hurts way more than you’d expect, it’s also kind of humiliating. There were no explosions or terrorists with big plans to bring America to its knees, not in my town anyway.

‘You'd like Die Hard.’

In all honest I didn't know if he would like it or not, but I really wanted to watch it, and I wanted to watch it with him. Daryl took Die Hard down from the shelf and I placed the popcorn down on my second-hand coffee table. He was excited, I could tell that much, he pretended he wasn't but I saw right through that. We made ourselves comfy on my worn-out couch, he seemed relaxed enough. I pushed the popcorn over to him and he shook his head, keeping his eyes fixed onto the television screen that had just started with the opening credits.

‘It’s a Christmas film?’ Daryl asked, sounding a little confused.
‘I suppose it could be classed as one.’

Daryl focused back on the film, I noticed how he lent back further into the couch, making himself comfier.

‘Oh man is this a cop film?’ Daryl said, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. He looked over to me and raised his eyebrows.

‘Maybe’ I grinned back. Daryl laughed, ‘No wonder you wanted me to watch this one. Bet you cops get off to this sort of thing huh?’
‘Hey, this is a great film, you’ll love it, I bet you will.’
Daryl just shook his head and grinned, his eyes back on the screen.

He did enjoy it, he had his eyes fixed on the screen the whole time, I watched him more than I watched the movie. I liked his reactions, he would smile at the funny parts and his mouth would fall open when something intense happened. And I was right about the popcorn, he started subconsciously eating it about half an hour into the movie. He asked a lot of questions too, like if all cops really hated FBI guys and if I had ever been in a gun fight or what would it feel like to be shot.

The credits rolled, Daryl sat there and started for a moment.
‘I’ll give it to you Grimes, that was pretty good for a movie about a cop.’
I laughed, and he laughed too, which made me laugh a bit harder because I was just so glad he was happy. For a moment I forgot all about the bruises and the hospital the fact his last name was Dixon. It felt like I had known him for as long as I had known Shane.

We sat around for a bit, chatting about the movie, talking about the best parts and the funny parts and the parts that were just so unrealistic. I caught him looking down into the empty popcorn bowl wearing an unreadable expression, but neither one of us said anything about it.

It was dark by the time we headed back to the car so I could give him a ride back home. He said he didn't need one of course, but he accepted my offer none the less.

I didn't want him to go. Every fibre of me wanted him to stay at mine, we could watch another movie, I could make more popcorn, he would be where I knew he was safe.
He asked to be dropped off on the corner again, I felt better about doing that because I didn't have to see the house.

‘Give me a call soon yeah?’ I asked him as he let himself out the car.
‘Course. M’sure you got more cop films to show me.’ He replied, smiling as he pulled his jacket further around him for warmth against the harsh night air.
I chuckled. ‘I sure do, I’ll see you soon.’ It wasn't a question, I wasn't letting him go that easy.
Daryl nodded, ‘Yeah, course.’
He gave me one last smile before he closed the car door and started making his way up the street to his house. I felt him heart sink as I watched him go.

Chapter Text

DIXON.

It had been two weeks since my trip to the hospital. My back was healing well, I had been able to go out and hunt again too, I was a bit clumsy and wasn't getting anything more than a squirrel or two but at least it meant I got to eat again and didn't have to be scrounging food off Rick. I had seen Rick nearly every day since the hospital, even if he was just giving me a ride back from school, which was something he tried to do on his quieter days at work.
Dad didn't know of course, didn't ask. Didn't care where I was as long I was home when he needed me to go out and pick up his cigarettes from the corner shop because he was too drunk to do it himself.

I had to be careful when using the phone to call Rick, had to do it quickly and quietly, because if he caught me making phone calls to anyone the punishment would probably send me back to the hospital, god knows what his reaction would be if he knew I was making phone calls to a cop. Rick never called me, I told him not to unless it was life-or-death. So when the phone started to ring I felt my stomach drop like a rock and rushed to answer it before Dad could get there. No one ever called us. No one. So my first thought was Rick, there was something wrong, something bad was happening to him.

‘Rick?’ I asked as soon as I put the phone to my ear.

‘Who the hell is Rick?’ Merle’s voice greeted me.

I sighed in relief and lent back against the wall. It was only Merle, nothing to worry about.
‘No one, not important.’ I said. ‘What do you want?’

‘That ain't no way to talk to your big brother.’ Merle snapped, sounded annoyed. I didn't blame him really, he hadn't spoken to me for months and I greeted him by saying someone else's name and asking him bluntly what he wants. But he never calls from lock up unless he wants me to do something for him. Pick him up some drugs for his return home was most likely what it was.

That mean he was coming home soon.

‘Well you always want something so you might as well tell me.’
Merle chuckled, he knew I was right. I was always right, he just wouldn't admit it.

‘I just wanted to tell ya that I'm gunna be let out on good behaviour in month, maybe even before.’ Merle said, using a voice of mock innocence that didn't suit him at all.
‘Yeah like that’ll ever happen’ I laughed. Merle and ‘good behaviour’ didn't go together.
‘It’s like you don’t want me to come home.’ He said, the mock innocence still lingering in his voice.
‘Just tell me what you need me to get.’ I asked, impatiently.

‘You know that guy Martinez…’ Merle started.
I cut him off with a sigh. He was sending me on a run for drugs.

‘Now lil’ brother, with the amount of shit I've had to do for your worthless ass over the years I'm sure you can do this for me.’

He was right of course. He had done a lot of shit for me that had gotten him into trouble. Sent to Juvie for stealing food for me, gotten into fights because of me. I was being selfish. I let him continue.

‘Need you to go visit him. There’s a fifty under my mattress, take that, tell him I sent ya. He’ll know what to do.’
‘Can you at least tell me what I'm picking up?’ I sighed.
‘Now that’s for me to know and not you.’ Merle sneered.
‘Got it.’ I said gruffly.

That’s when I heard the key in the lock. Dad was back. Panic washed over me and I ignored Merle’s chatter. ‘I got to go.’ I said quickly, cutting him off again mid-sentence. He didn't like me doing that, so he started lecturing me about ‘respecting my elders’ and how I was ‘being ungrateful.’
‘Merle, seriously’ I snapped. Dad’s footsteps were growing nearer.

‘Who you on the phone to boy?’ I heard him snarl from the other room.

Merle was still ranting on, I came close to slamming the phone down on him, but I knew he would give me hell for that once he was out. Plus it was stupid, but I would feel guilty for doing that, he didn't call me much from lock up.

When I didn't answer him, Dad came storming into the room, red faced and swaying slightly.
‘Who you on the phone too?’ he asked again, louder this time.
‘Merle’ I said. Gaining a very annoyed ‘What?’ from the other end of the line.

Dad snatched the phone out of my hand and raised it to his own ear.
‘What’cha calling for boy? Been let out already?’ I suppressed a groan. Merle wouldn't want to hear Dad’s voice, Merle couldn't stand to even be in the house when Dad was. That’s probably why he was hardly ever around.
‘Don’t you use that tone with me boy. It’s my house you’ll be returning too when they decide they’re sick of seeing your face everyday.’ He growled angrily. I couldn't hear what Merle was saying, but he could never seem to have a calm conversation with Dad. He would always argue, talk back, shout. It never went well for him, he was covered in scars from him, broken bones and stitches and countless black eyes and split lips. Despite all this, he didn't learn to keep his mouth shut.

But then again, I tried to keep my mouth shut and I always seemed to end up with a few new scars and a black eye.

Dad got angrier, he face got redder and the veins on his temple started to protrude.
I stood there, knowing that I wouldn't be allowed to escape to my room, listening to Dad’s voice get louder and louder.
It didn't go on for long. Dad eventually ended the argument by saying ‘When you get back here I'm gunna make you wish you were back hiding in the corner of the prison showers’ and slamming the phone down with such force I was sure it had to be broken.

For a moment everything was still. I was frozen on the spot, and Dad was staring down at the phone with a look of rage still plastered over his face. He was breathing deeply and still swaying a little. Everything was silent but his deep, raspy breaths.

‘You.’ He said quietly, pointing his finger in my direction, still staring down at the phone. I felt myself edge backwards slightly.
‘When I ask you a question boy, you answer me.’ He said dangerously, turning around and taking a few steps closer to me. I wanted to take a few steps back but my feet were stuck down to the floor. ‘You answer me straight away. You understand?’

‘Yes Sir.’ I answered, taking great care not to let my voice shake.

‘Are you sure? Because you didn't seem to understand that just then.’ He snarled.

‘Sorry Sir.’

He stared at me, taking a few steps closer still.

‘Sorry. Oh that’s alright then, you said you were sorry.’ He towered over me, arms crossed, fists clenched.
‘You think sorry is gunna fix everything don’t ya? You knock over a glass, it smashes, you say sorry. Glass is still smashed. Your brother gets himself locked up for stealing food so you can stuff your fat face. You say you’re sorry. Don’t get him out of trouble does it?’

He reached into his pocket and I suddenly got my feet to work again, I moved backwards quickly in the direction of the door, but he gripped my arm tightly and yanked me back forward, closer to him.

He drew out his pocketknife and slashed it across the top of my arm. I yelped and tried to pull my arm out of his grasp, watching as the blood trickled out of my fresh wound.

‘Sorry.’ Dad said, his face close to mine. He squeezed my arm tighter and I yelled out, trying desperately to free myself. ‘Sorry won’t make that scar go away.’

He let more blood ooze out of my cut for a moment, still holding my arm tight.
‘You understand what I’m saying now?’
I nodded frantically, ‘Yeah I understand.’

Another slash with the knife, a wound opened up just above the first one and I yelled again, struggling to escape. He wrapped his free hand around my throat and I was forced to look up at him.

‘That’s no way to talk to me.’ he snarled.
‘Yes Sir, sorry Sir.’ I sputtered, his grip on my throat got tighter.

‘There’s that word again.’

He let go of my arm and punched me hard in the face.
I tasted blood.

‘You’re pathetic.’ He hissed. ‘You’re weak. You’re a waste of air.’
He punched me again, I felt his fist connect with my cheekbone.

‘You know what I think? I think that your whore mother opened her legs to another man to make you. No son of mine would ever be this pathetic.’

‘Don’t talk about her like that.’ I snarled back, looking him directly in the eyes. ‘Don’t you ever talk about her like that.’

I crossed a line. I knew that. I answered back, told him he wasn't allowed to do something. I didn't care. I felt the fear in my chest get replaced with anger. burning hot anger.

‘Don’t you dare tell me what I can and can’t say!’ he bellowed. ‘She was my damn wife!’
‘And she was my mother and you don’t talk about her in that way!’ I shouted back, my eyes still locked onto his.

He was on me before I even had time to realize.

He started off with the punching, knocked me to the floor and pinned me down, aiming at my face over and over. All I could taste and see was blood. I thought I was going to choke on it. He was shouting, I couldn't quite make out what he was saying but it was loud enough for the neighbours to hear. I hoped they would call someone again, like the last time it was this bad, like the day I met Rick. I thought about Rick as the punches continued to come my way, blue eyes and curly dark hair. He would come, any second now he would come and get me out of this.

He didn't come. He didn't come running in, he didn't pull my Dad off of me and he didn't carry me out of this shit-hole I called home and tell me that it was all going to be okay. I was on my own. I was always on my own.

I punched back. I tried to anyway, I couldn't see much of anything, everything was moving too fast and I kept getting blood in my eyes. I swung up and around, trying to hit something. I felt my fist hit something hard and he started yelling. he pinned my arm back down and held it there with his foot, the heel of his boot dug painfully into my wrist.

More shouting, I saw a glint of metal and felt panic rise back up in my chest.
The knife was out again.

I struggled harder, trying desperately to free myself from his grip. He pinned my other arm down and pulled my shirt up over my stomach. Everything suddenly went from being very loud, to silent. I stopped struggling and looked down to see what he was going to do, dread filled my stomach. He held the knife with his free hand and twirled it around in his fingers, a smile twisted across his face.

I waited for him to say something, make some sort of comment about my weight.
He didn't need too, he just started cutting.

I screamed as the blade ran across my middle, I felt blood pool up and dribble down over my sides. He ran it across my ribs, my hip bones, across the cuts he had already made.
I didn't realize I was screaming ‘stop!’ until he did actually stop and the only thing that could be heard was my voice.

‘Do you want me to apologise?’ he asked me, that sick smile still on his face.

‘Fuck you.’ I muttered, and I spat in his face.

He stood up slowly and wiped my spit off of himself. His face went from red to purple and every single vein on his temple and neck were bulging. He swung his foot into my side, making me curl up into a ball, I felt the blood pour down my stomach onto the floor. I hoped they weren't too deep.

Another kick, I cried out in pain.

Maybe if they were deep enough I would just bleed out on the floor and not have to deal with it. I wouldn't have to deal with living like this.

Another kick, it landed on my chest this time and I spluttered, closing my eyes tightly.

I hoped everything would hurry up and go black already. Or white, that’s what people say isn't it? Go into the light? why couldn't I find the damn light?

When the next kick didn't come, I thought for a moment that maybe I had died and I just hadn't realize until then. I lay there for a moment, wondering if I was alive before I heard his footsteps stomp out of the room, confirming that I was in fact, alive.
I didn't move, because if he knew I was conscious he would come back and make sure that I wasn't.

Eventually, I heard the front door slam shut and he was gone.

I wanted to go too.

Chapter Text

GRIMES.

‘…so then I asked her why she was getting so worked up over it? I mean it’s not like where were ever officially dating, and I can tell you she weren't very pleased to hear that.’

‘I can understand why.’

Five hours and three coffees into our shift, Shane was blabbering on about girls and I was trying to pay attention to him, I really was. But my mind kept slipping out of focus every once in a while. We were sitting in the car outside the coffee shop where Glenn worked. He came out on his breaks to chat to us and bring us free coffee. Daryl and I had visited several times since our first visit two weeks ago. Glenn seemed to have taken a liking to Daryl, every time Shane and I went in to grab coffee on our shifts he would ask how Daryl was, much to Shane’s displeasure. He was jealous I think, I never asked him, I didn't talk about Daryl in front of him, it was just easier for both of us that way.

I felt a little bad for Shane, I was spending less time with him since I met Daryl. I was trying to make up for it, trying to listen to him talk aimlessly about stuff I didn't really care about and arranging times for us to hang out after work, but I just preferred spending time with Daryl.

‘So what about you then, any girls taking your fancy?’ Shane said, turning the conversation round on me.

I scoffed, ‘no, can’t say anyone’s been grabbing my attention recently.’

‘Not since Lori?’ he asked me. I felt myself go stiff at the mention of her.

I had lost Lori two years ago. Car accident. It hadn't been anyone’s fault, no one was to blame, it had just been an accident. Car flipped over, she hit her head too hard and that was it, she was gone just like that. We used to argue a lot, mostly over stupid things that weren't worth arguing over, but it had been a good thing, our relationship. I don’t think it would have lasted forever, but I sometimes liked to think it could've.

‘No. not since Lori.’

Our radio suddenly started crackling. Shane and I fell silent, listening intently to the woman on the other end telling us where we were needed.
She read out an address and I felt Shane's eyes slid over and lock onto me.

They had just read out Daryl’s address. A noise complaint from a concerned neighbour. Heard screaming apparently.

I felt like my heart stopped still in my chest.

‘Drive.’ I muttered to Shane, who nodded dumbly at me before slamming his foot down on the gas. I flicked the sirens on, and we sped off. I willed Shane to go faster, I knew he was doing his best, dodging around the traffic as fast as he could without making it dangerous. I felt dread building up in my chest, I remembered back to when I first met him, and he was bleeding and helpless and terrified, clinging to the front of my shirt like a lifeline. I remembered the blood and the glass and the bruises. I felt sick.

We pulled up outside the house, the curtains were all drawn shut and there were smashed bottles littering the very small, overgrown front yard. I quickly let myself out of the car and bolted towards the front door, Shane was right behind me.
I pounded my fist against the door so hard it hurt.

‘Open up, it’s the police!’ Shane bellowed.

No one came to answer.

I didn't bother knocking again, Shane was getting himself ready to barge the door down. Before he could, I tried the handle and to my surprise, it worked, the door was unlocked.
We burst into the house, it was dark and I was hit with a smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol. I couldn't smell blood, which was reassuring, but still didn't make me feel much better.

‘Daryl!’ I yelled through the house.
I didn't get an answer.

I ran though to the kitchen where we had found all the blood last time, but all I found was a line of empty whiskey bottles, and overflowing ashtray and a glass of what I assumed was once milk left out on the side. There was no blood, no broken glass. I spirited through to the living room.

That’s where I found the blood.
It stained the threadbare carpet, dark and think and no quite dried yet. I saw bloody handprints too, on the carpet, on the wall, on the smashed up house phone that lay discarded on the floor.

My lungs refused to take in oxygen. My heart wasn't beating, and the only thought my brain could make was ‘where was Daryl?’

‘Oh my god.’ I heard Shane behind me, standing in the doorway
‘Did you find him?’ I asked quietly.
‘No. house is empty.’

It was my fault. I drove him back to this place every day, I knew what was waiting for him, I knew this was going to happen again. I just tricked myself into believing that it couldn't possibly be that bad again, that he would always be there the next day. Daryl had tricked himself into thinking he was to tough to be broken, I let him trick me into believing that too.

‘He’s gotta be here.’ I muttered, turning around and looking at Shane who was still hovering in the doorway. He shook his head.
‘I'm telling you man, I checked everywhere, kid’s not here.’

I pushed past him and ran up the stairs, bursting into the nearest door.
A dirty, stained double bed, an old wardrobe with a door missing, yet another overflowing ashtray and more empty bottles. Not what I was looking for.

The next door let me to a room covered in posters of girl in bikinis and metal bands I had never heard of. There was a mattress on the floor and a pile of porn mags next to it.

I found the bathroom next, and I felt the blood drain out of my face all over again. There was a bloody towel left discarded in the bathtub, along with a shirt I recognised to be Daryl’s. That too was bloodstained. Handprints were left on the sink, and there was a first aid kit lying open and pretty much empty on the floor.

I called out his name again. I was desperate.

I checked the last upstairs room, it was the smallest and had nothing in but a worn out mattresses and a very battered looking chest of draws.
He wasn't here.

I stood there for a moment, looking around as though he was just going to re-appear and shrug it off and tell me he was fine, and then snap at me for making sure.

‘I've called for backup. Should be here any minuet.’ I heard Shane say, I felt his hand on my shoulder, his fingers squeezing me lightly.
‘We’ll find him, he’ll be okay.’

Chapter Text

DIXON.

I didn't take much with me. Shoved my crossbow into a holdall, along with the fifty that was under Merle’s mattress and the contents of a first aid kit.

I tried to clean myself up a little, I bandaged my arm, but my stomach was too much of a mess and I didn't have the time to fix it, so I did my best to slow down the bleeding and changed quickly into a fresh shirt. I pulled on my jacket with the angel wings and I left. Down the stairs, out the door, moving as fast as I could go with my wounds still bleeding and my head hurting so much my vision kept blurring out.

I had tried to call Rick first, pleading the broken phone to work. After my fifth attempt I gave up, I had to go because he would be back soon and I couldn't stay any longer.

I kept tripping over my own feet. I was fighting to stay upright. ‘Don’t be a pussy. Stop being such a God Damn pussy.’

I kept mainly to the back alleys, because I didn't want to be out on the streets looking the way I did. I knew I looked bad, one of my eyes had swollen shut and I hadn't bothered wiping any of the blood off my face, I had a cut on my forehead that kept bleeding. I didn't want to draw attention to myself.

When I reached Rick’s apartment building the sun had started to set. I couldn't see his car anywhere; it wasn't parked in its usual space. I peered up to his bedroom window, the lights weren't on.

The stairs were the hardest part. I clung to the railing and forced myself to keep moving, swearing under my breath as every move I made pulled at my cut skin, I felt it start to bleed again.

I knocked on his door hard. No one answered it. I slammed my fists against it and called his name out, my throat was sore from all the screaming I had done earlier. I didn't think he worked this late on a Friday. Maybe he had gone out somewhere; maybe he was just in there asleep.

I didn't know what to do. I went over my options, I could go back home, pretend as if nothing had happened, or I could go down to the hospital and let them prod and poke me and ask uncomfortable questions, or I could stay here until Rick came back.
I looked down at the blood that had started seeping though my shirt. I couldn't go anywhere. Hospital was a good five miles away, I wouldn't make it. And I couldn't go back there. I slumped down against Rick’s front door and waited, trying to ignore the pain that was coursing through my body.

*

‘Hey, wake up’ someone was shaking me gently. I opened my eyes, I didn't know I had fallen asleep, it felt like I had only just closed my eyes.

‘What’s your name?’

I didn't recognise the voice, it was female, soft and caring. Something I really wasn't used to.
I looked up at the asker, I didn't know her, never seen her before. She was in her mid to late thirties by the look of things, short blonde hair that was starting to fade to grey and her freckled skin was starting to wrinkle ever so slightly.

I didn't give her my name. I was too preoccupied with the throbbing pain that was growing in my stomach. I groaned and tried to sit up, but she put ad hand carefully on my shoulder to stop me.

‘Take it easy, do you need me to call anyone? Do you think you need to go to the hospital?’
I shook my head quickly, and regretted it because it hurt like hell.

‘No, no hospital. I need to wait here, he’ll be back soon.’ I muttered, my mind was cloudy.

The woman looked at me, and then at the door I was leaning against, and then back at me.
She had put two and two together. ‘Oh, you must be Daryl.’

I nodded slightly, giving her a questioning look. How the hell had she known that?

‘Okay Daryl, there’s a lot of blood on your shirt. I need to know if it’s yours or not.’
I looked down at my shirt and noticed how it was stained dark with my blood and was sticking to my cut up stomach.

‘S’mine’ I said, it came out s more of a whisper.

‘Okay, my name is Carol, I'm Rick’s neighbour. I need you to come with me and I’ll get you patched up yeah?’
I shook my head. I needed to stay here, I could clean myself up fine, I didn't need her doing anything for me. I had got this far on my own.
‘Don’t need help.’ I mumbled, pulling my shoulder out of her touch.
I wanted her to go; to leave me alone, but god damn was that woman persistent.
‘Daryl, you look like you've lost a lot of blood, and that cut on your forehead might need stitch, please let me help.’
‘M’fine. Leave me be.’ I snapped. Although it didn't sound threatening at all, more weak and raspy. Pathetic.

She sighed and for a moment I thought she was going to leave it, get up and go.

‘I can call the station and see if Rick’s there.’ She said. I looked up at her quickly.
‘While we wait for him to get back you can clean yourself up at my place. That sound good?’ she offered.
I thought about it. It didn't sound like a bad idea. It would mean Rick would come back sooner and I wouldn't have to sit outside his apartment waiting for him.

‘No hospitals?’ I asked Carol, looking up at her and squinting my eyes, or well, one of my eyes, the other one was still swollen shut.
‘No hospitals.’ She confirmed.

She reached down a hand to help me up and I took it, trying to silence Merle’s snide remarks in the back of my head.

*

‘Well the good news is that six of these cuts don’t need stitches.’ Carol said as she carefully dabbed away at my torn up middle. ‘Bad news is, the other five do. That’s not counting the two on your arm.’
‘What about the one of my forehead.’ I asked her, winching as she applied more disinfectant.
‘Now it’s all cleaned up, it doesn't look as bad. It should be okay.’ She stated.

My stomach was a mess of cuts, all straight and precisely done. Some crossed over each other to make Xs, those ones hurt the most. The worst ones were on my abdomen, he cut deeper there, I remembered how he had laughed while doing it. I couldn't get that laugh out of my head.

‘Which ones need stitched?’ I asked her, looking down at myself.
She pointed to the three worst ones on my abdomen, a nasty X shaped one across my ribs and a small but deep one just above my navel.

‘I've got all the equipment for it, so we don’t have to worry about hospitals.’
I nodded, still starting down at the cuts, thinking about all the new scars I was going to have now.

Carol left the living room to go fetch the needle and thread. Her apartment had the same set up as Rick’s; it was nice, very clean and smelt like lavender mostly. Her walls were painted cream and she had a large dark red sofa and a few mismatched old armchairs scattered around the room. There was a small television set in the corner and a basket full of kid’s toys was propped open against one of the armchairs.

‘Psst!’ I heard a small voice from somewhere behind me.

I turned around, ignoring the twinge of pain I received for doing so. I couldn't see anyone.
For a moment I thought I had really lost it. Dad had hit my head so hard he had unhinged something and I was starting to really hear things, and not just Merle's voice in the back of my head, which I knew couldn't be all that normal.

‘Psst!’ my eyes were drawn to the counter behind the kitchenette.

I breathed a sigh of relief, I wasn't going nuts. The owner of the voice was a little girl no older than 6, with a mess of dirty blonde hair and big bright eyes.
‘I got you something’ she said, still crouching behind the counter.
‘Whatcha got?’ I asked her. I didn't have any experience with kids, I knew mothers would usually take one look at me and cross the street holding their child close to them. I knew I scared them enough without having my face swollen and black and blue.
She stood up and wondered over to the couch where I was sitting shirtless with my cuts of full display, they didn't seem to bother her. She held out a blue icepack wrapped in a tea towel.

‘It’s magic, it’ll help.’

I took it from her carefully and pressed it up to my swollen eye. ‘Thank you’ I said, looking down at her with my good eye. She looked very pleased with herself. She examined me for a moment staring at the cuts and the bruises, I would have done anything for a shirt to put on.

‘Did the monster get you?’ she asked me, suddenly sounding nervous.

My heart dropped, and I stared at her for a moment, she was looking back up at me, a serious expression on her little face. ‘Yeah, I made the monster angry, so came and got me.’
She nodded and pulled herself up on the couch next to me. ‘The monster use to get me and Mommy too.’
I stared over at the door Carol had just gone though, and then back at the little girl sitting very close to me.
‘It’s okay. You’re safe here. The monster can’t get us here.’

I didn't like to cry in front of people, mostly because I’d get my ass kicked for it when I was small. I didn't like people knowing I was hurt, thinking I was weak. But I figured the kid wouldn't mind. So I let myself cry, and the little girl curled up next to me, her tiny hand squeezing mine.

When Carol came back I made a great effort to wipe away the tears, I sniffed, desperate to hide that fact I had been crying. If she noticed, she didn't say a word.

‘I can do it’ I muttered, putting my hand out for the needle. I had stitched myself up before, I didn't need anyone doing it for me. I wasn't completely useless.
‘You’re shaking, I'm not. It would be safer if I did.’
I wanted to argue, but I knew she was right. My hands were shaking and I didn't want to slip.

‘You’ll need to lay back.’ She said, and I did as she said. The little girl jumped off the couch to give me room and I lay back, grimacing in pain as I lowered myself down.
‘Comfy?’ she asked, a small smile playing at her lips. ‘Never better’ I smiled back, but it hurt my face and my smile quickly became a scowl of pain.
‘Okay, I'm sure you already know this, but this is gunna sting.’

She was right, it stung like a bitch, but I was used to being stitched up. Whenever I used to get lashed as a kid, Ma would sober herself up long enough to sooth me and stitch me back together again and sting me a line of bullshit by telling me it was all going to be okay. After Ma went, I learnt to stitch myself up, my back was always hard, but I usually managed. At first I got Merle to do it, never my back, because I didn't want him seeing the rest of the scars there, but if it was my head or my arms I would tell him I got in a fight at school or something. But Merle was rough and it hurt more when he did it, he told me the scars made me look tough, but I always hated them. I paid attention to what he did and then next time I did it myself.

‘How do you know how to do this?’ I asked Carol, mostly to try and take my mind off the pain. And I was curious about the monster the little girl had been talking about. I think I already knew the answer.
‘The internet mostly, was easier than having to make up a new excuse every time I visited the hospital.’ she said, not taking her eyes of the stitching.
My mouth went dry, so I just nodded.
‘Mommy, Daryl was hurt by the monster too’ the little girl said, still holding my hand, I felt myself turn red and I looked down quickly. ‘I told him the monster won’t get him here’ she continued.
‘That’s right Sophia, he’s safe here.’ Carol said, pausing her stitching and looking up at me quickly, giving me a small smile. She knew, Rick had probably told her, because I knew he had known too, he just liked to pretend he didn't.

‘Okay, that’s two down, I'm gunna try call the station again, see if Rick’s there this time.’
We had called before, as soon as we had got in and Carol had assessed the damage. They said he was working, but he was out on a call, they said to try again in a bit.

‘Hello, I was just calling to see if Officer Rick Grimes is free to speak with? It’s his neighbour, its urgent…. Yeah I am…. Oh that great, of course!’ I sat up quickly, that had sounded promising. Carol held the phone away from her slightly and covered the mouthpiece. ‘He’s there, just getting him now.’
‘Rick, it’s Carol… are you okay… yeah but Rick…’ She paused for a moment, letting him talking. ‘Rick he’s fine, he’s right here… yes he’s okay, just needs a couple of stitches.. yeah that’s fine.’
Carol held the phone out towards me. ‘Want’s to speak with you.’
I felt anxious all of a sudden. I didn't really know why. But I took the phone with my shaking hands and raised it to my ear anyway.

‘Rick?’

‘Daryl are you okay? What happened to you? We've been out looking.’ He sounded panicked, scared even. I didn't like that tone on him. Rick was always so calm and positive.
‘I'm okay, bit beat up, but fine. What do you mean you’re out looking for me?’
‘Daryl, we got called out to your house, there was blood everywhere and no one was there. I thought you were…’ he trailed off.
‘I'm okay, I just can’t go back there for a while yet, there were a few… complications.’ I chose my words carefully, I don’t know why, because Rick knew what had happened.
‘Okay, right. I’ll be back in ten minutes is that okay?’ he asked, I heard shuffling at the other end of the line and a someone else speaking, although I couldn't make out what they were saying.
‘Ya don’t need to come rushin’ back like I’ gunna drop dead.’
‘I’ll see you in ten.’ He replied firmly.
I sighed and pressed the end call button before handing the phone back to Carol.

‘You do realise he’s going to panic when he sees you.’ she said, kneeling back down on the floor and picking up the needle again.
I nodded, Rick wasn't used to seeing this kind of thing, and I knew it still looked bad, even with all the dried blood cleaned off. I was all dark colours and swelling and stitches.

I slumped my head back onto one of the couch cushions and closed my eyes while Carol continued to put me back together again.

Chapter Text

GRIMES.

Daryl was more than just ‘a bit beat up.’ Daryl was a clash of blues and purples and reds. His right eye had been swollen shut, and the left one was bruised pretty badly. The whole right side of his face was mixture of dark colours that shouldn't be there, the bruising continued down over his neck, you could see where a pair of hands had attached themselves around his throat. Carol was busying herself stitching up two nasty looking slashes on the top of Daryl’s right arm. There was bruising around on his arm just above the elbow and on both wrists that looked similar to the markings around his throat. He was shirtless, ribs jutting out. There was a large, dark bruise in the middle of his chest that had started to turn a yellow-green colour around the edges.

When I saw the cuts on his stomach I felt myself turn pale. I slumped down in an armchair and rested my head in my hands.

‘It ain't that bad’ Daryl said wearily, as if he could read my mind.
‘It is that bad Daryl’ I muttered, not taking my head out of my hands.

Everyone was quiet for a bit, Carol finished stitch him up and went to fetch him some painkillers and a glass of water, it bothered me how easy it seemed to be for the kid to take stitches without so much as flinching. Sofia had fallen asleep curled up on the couch next to Daryl, her small hands wrapping around his fingers. He seemed quiet fond of her, I saw the faint etch of a smile cross his face as he looked down at her.

‘What happened?’ I asked him, my voice was quiet, raspy.

‘Had an accident’ Daryl muttered. He was fidgeting more than usual his arms crossed over his middle, shielding himself away from my view. He leant back into the couch cushions, making himself as small as possible.

‘Cut the bullshit Daryl, just tell me the truth’ I snapped. I didn't mean to snap. He broke eye contact with me immediately and seemed to sink further into the couch cushions.
‘Made him angry’ he said simply, looking down at his hands, he was shaking.

My face was in my hands again. I didn't know if I wanted to cry or go find Daryl’s dad and put a bullet through his brain.
I needed to snap out of it, I knew that. Daryl was injured and scared and in a lot of pain, although he was trying not to show it. He needed me to be calm, supportive. He needed me to be in a state where I could look after him. I mentally gave myself a slap and took my face out of my hands again to look at Daryl.

He was still staring down at his hands, his dark hair falling in front of his bruised face.

‘Okay, it’s going to be okay.’ I said, I didn't know if I was trying to reassure Daryl or myself. He looked up at me again, not saying anything.
‘You can stay with me and we’ll get it all sorted out.’

Carol came back and handed Daryl some more pain killers and a glass of water, he smiled up at her weakly before swallowing the pills and gulping down the water, spilling a little bit down his front due to his shaking hands.
‘You’re going to need to rest for a few days, you’re ribs aren't broken but they’re very bruised. Don’t strain yourself, keep yourself hydrated and make sure you eat enough’ Carol said, I had never seen this side of Carol before, she never seemed the person to give orders. She looked determined and confident, kneeling down next to Daryl and gently brushing his hair out of his face. Daryl nodded, not meeting her eyes. ‘You got any problems or something starts hurting more then you come back here and I’ll take a look at it alright?’

‘Got it’ he said, giving her that weak smile again.

‘Alright, finish the water, and then Rick get him to bed okay? He needs rest.’

Daryl finished the glass and sat himself up, ready to stand. He was in a lot of pain, he face contorted and he was biting down hard on his bottom lip. I helped him up and he clung to me for support.

‘Do you have to go?’ a small voice asked from the couch. Sofia had woken up and was looking up at us with her eyes wide and questioning. ‘I'm just going across the hall so I won’t be far away’ Daryl smiled at her, the smile looked like it hurt a lot, but he kept it up for her. She kept her gaze for a moment before nodding her approval. I picked up Daryl's holdall, it was bulky but surprisingly light.

Daryl thanked Carol, and she smiled sadly at him at told him it was no trouble and to get some rest.

‘Thank you’ I said quietly to her on our way out. She smiled at me and lent in to kiss me on the cheek. ‘You look after him okay?’ she whispered in my ear so he couldn't hear.
I nodded at her. He was going to be safe now. I wasn't taking him back to that place ever again.

*

I told him he could take my bed and I would take the less comfy one in the spare room. He didn't say much to me, he just kept his arms folded over himself and avoided eye contact. He was still shirtless and looking very uncomfortable about it, I had leant enough about him over these past few weeks to know he wasn't at all comfortable with himself. He was always wearing a lot of baggy, layered clothing and he kept his arms crossed over himself whenever he sat down. I can’t imagine the mass of new cuts he had was helping the situation much.

‘You got a change of clothes in there?’ I asked, gesturing to the holdall I had placed at the end of the bed. He shook his head looking somewhat sheepish.

‘Okay, that’s fine, you can borrow some of mine.’ I said, pulling open my chest of draws and digging out a plain white shirt for him. ‘It won’t fit well’ I told him as I handed it to him. At hearing this he turned very pink and crossed his arms further over himself, staring down into his lap. ‘It’ll be too big’ I added quickly, cursing myself for my bad choice of words. He pulled it on quickly, a little too quickly and I ignored the grunt of pain he made as he pulled it over his head. I looked back down at his holdall, ‘what do you got in there?’ I asked out of curiosity. If it were possible, Daryl turned pinker still and told me I could open it and see if I wanted.

A crossbow. He had brought his Goddamn crossbow.

At this point I wasn't even surprised.

He had told me about how he went hunting, told me about the crossbow and the woods and how he could hit a squirrel between the eyes.

‘So you thought to bring a crossbow, but forgot to bring a spare change of clothes’ I stated, not being able to contain my laughter.
‘I also brought the contents of a first aid kit and a fifty I stole from my brother.’ Daryl said, grinning over at me.
‘But clean underwear never crossed your mind?’ I asked him, still laughing.
‘Not once.’ He confirmed, joining in with my laughter. He didn't laugh for long, it looked like it really hurt him to do so and his laughter turned into a slight moan and he slumped back down onto him bed. I felt awful, because it hurt him to be happy now as well.

He buried himself under the sheets and pulled the duvet up around himself. ‘Your bed is amazing.’ He muttered, closing his eyes sleepily. I remembered back to the room at that house with the worn-out mattress pushed against the wall covered with nothing but a ragged blanket and a few stained sheets. He looked even smaller than normal in my bed, I knew he had gotten skinnier, I just didn't know how small he had been until I saw him with his shirt off just now.

‘I’ll leave you to rest now okay?’I said, reaching out and gently touching his shoulder. He wanted to flinch away, I could tell, but he didn't.
‘Alright’ He muttered sleepily, not opening his eyes.
‘I’ll be in the spare room if you need me.’ I said, before I flicked out the light. I left the bedroom door open slightly, just in case.

*

It was late when I heard the screaming. Daryl’s screaming.

I was up in an instant, stumbling out of bed and shaking myself awake, panic gripping at my chest.

I burst into the bedroom ready for a fight, I didn't find anyone in there but Daryl, twisting and turning, tangled up in the bed sheets.
I couldn't remember if you were supposed to wake a person up from a nightmare or just let them go through it. I swore under my breath and clambered onto the bed next to him.

‘I'm sorry! I didn't mean too! No please stop, stop it!’ He sobbed dryly and thrashed out. ‘Daryl it’s just a dream’ I said, carefully putting my hands on his shoulders to stop him wriggling around too much and hurting himself further. ‘It’s just a dream, Daryl.’
‘Please don’t! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Stop it!’ he was howling now, screaming ‘stop!’ and twisting his body around in a way I knew wasn't good for his cuts and bruises.
‘Daryl wake up!’ I said loudly, shaking him. ‘Wake up, it’s just a nightmare, you gotta wake up!’

He was up with a start, shaking violently and shuffling back from me, fists clenched in front of him, ready to throw a punch. His eyes were wide, filled with terror and flicking around the room checking for danger.
‘Daryl, it’s me, it’s Rick’ I whispered, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched away from me quickly, staring at me as though he couldn't tell if I were real or a threat to him. ‘I'm not going to hurt you. You’re safe here, no one’s going to hurt you again I promise.’

I placed my hand back on his shoulder, and when he didn't flinch away, I pulled him into a hug.

To my surprise, he wrapped his arms right back around me and started sobbing hard into my shoulder, gripping on to my shirt and shaking.
‘It’s okay.’ I whispered, ‘It’s going to be okay.’
He didn't respond to me, he didn't stop crying and I didn't stop holding him.
I didn't leave his side for the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

DIXON.

I woke up the next morning with my head resting against Rick’s chest. I sat up quickly and regretted doing so, because my entire body was aching and stinging. I groaned and looked around, for a moment I wondered where I was and why I had fallen asleep on another man’s chest. It all came back to me pretty quickly, and I felt myself flush with shame at the memory of the nightmare I had had, and how I had cried myself back to sleep with my head buried into the crook of Rick’s neck.
Merle would have hell to play if he knew about this.

My movements seemed to have woken Rick up, because he started shuffling next to me and yawning, rubbing his tired eyes.
‘Morning sunshine’ he muttered, squinting his eyes open and looking over to me. ‘You feeing any better?’
I wasn't, I felt like I had been hit by a truck.
‘Suppose so’ I muttered.

‘How does pancakes for breakfast sound?’
It sounded amazing actually, I had only ever had pancakes once, Merle tried to make me them on my birthday when I was 9. He had no idea what he was doing, and they were all lumpy and burnt, but I thought they were fantastic. Dad beat Merle pretty badly for doing that, ‘wasting food we didn't have’ was what he called it. I remember the shouting, Dad yelling about how Merle expected me to toughen up, yet he kept treating me like a baby and ‘feeding me up.’ Merle got two cracked ribs and was limping around the place for a few weeks.

‘M’not really hungry.’ I muttered, the echo’s of that shouting match still playing in my head.

Rick sighed and sat himself up next to me, running my hands through his hair that was messy from sleep. ‘You got to eat something Daryl, you lost a lot of blood yesterday.’
When I didn't respond, he sighed and got out of bed, stretching and yawning.
‘I'm making them anyway, you just eat as much as you can.’
He left the room before I had time to answer back.

The smell was incredible. It was sweet and filled up the apartment and made my mouth water and my stomach growl hungrily. I hadn't really noticed how hungry I had been up until that point, my stomach hurt and I started to get a little light headed. I wondered out into the kitchenette to see if there were anything I could do, but Rick sent me straight back to bed, telling me he would bring breakfast too me. I kicked up a fuss, told him I wasn't entirely useless, but he wasn't having none of it, so I stomped back into the bedroom to sulk for a while.

I had never had breakfast in bed before, I never really bothered with breakfast in general. Rick’s pancakes looked a hell of a lot more appetizing than the ones Merle made all those years ago. They were stacked up and were drizzled with golden syrup. I muttered my thanks to Rick who sat on the bed next to me with his own plate of pancakes. ‘I don’t wanna brag or nothing, but my pancakes are the best pancake’s you’ll ever have’ he grinned over at me.

‘I don’t doubt that’ I said, smiling more to myself than him.

They were amazing to say the least. I started off taking small bites, trying to eat as politely as possible. I hadn't ever been taught table manners, I was aware I wasn't actually at a table, but I tried my best to be as well-mannered as possible, for the first couple of bites away. My hunger kicked in and I started eating faster, taking bigger forkfuls and barely chewing. I had eaten them all much quicker than I would have liked too.

‘I can honestly say those were the best pancakes I've ever had’ I announced to Rick once I had finished. He was still eating his, savouring it like I wished I had done. ‘But the only other pancakes I've had were made by my brother, and he ain't much of a chef. Makes a pretty good rabbit stew though’ I added, he told me Ma had taught him how to do it, before I was born she was sober more, less depressed, so she could keep herself together long enough to teach Merle how to do certain things.
‘Can’t say I've ever attempted to make a rabbit stew before’ Rick said between mouthfuls.
‘He used to make it good. I’d catch the rabbits for him, he sucks at hunting, always too loud on his feet and he ain't got no patience.’
‘Well you’ll have to catch me some rabbits one day and we’ll give it a go’ he smiled.

I wanted to help him wash up, I felt bad because I was just sitting around doing nothing and he was doing all the work. He wouldn't let me help, although I kept offering. Eventually I moved myself out of the bedroom and settled on the couch, wanting a change of environment more than anything. He switched the television on for me and let me flip through the channels looking for something worth my attention. I settled on some documentary about volcanoes.

‘I need to check you over’ he said once he had finished washing up.

I didn't want him too. I squirmed away from him and held down the hem of my shirt as though he was about to pull it off me and hold me down against my will. Rick frowned, ran his hands through his hair and then gave me a very weak smiled. He was stressed, I knew I was difficult, and I felt kind of guilty because he didn't really know where to begin. Rick hadn't experienced someone like me before, he probably went to a nice school and lived with a middle-class family who went on holidays to tropical countries and had game nights and all sat round a table to eat dinner every evening. He would have been told about kids like me in his training, but that was different, I bet he never thought he’d have one living in his house.

‘I can check em myself’ I said gruffly.
‘I just want to be sure’ he said calmly.
I sighed and asked him why, he said he just wanted to be sure I was okay.
‘Stubborn fuck’ I muttered, making Rick scoff. I pulled the borrowed bed shirt up over myself, I was reluctant to have him looking, fussing over me more than he already was, but I knew he wouldn't bother me about it if I let him check over my injuries.

The cuts were red and angry and sore. The only improvement was they weren't as swollen as yesterday, and Carol had done a good job of the stitching, it was much neater than I've ever been able to do. I watched as Rick gently ran his hand over them, I wanted to bat it away and put my shirt back on, tell him to clear off, but I let him look down at me sadly, making sure I hadn't pulled out a stitch or started to bleed again. ‘You done lookin?’ I snapped, I was really struggling to remain comfortable with this. I hated how sad it was making him look.

Rick nodded, and I pulled the shirt back over my head, grateful to have something covering my scarred torso again.

He was quiet, too quiet. I shuffled around next to him, feeling awkward. He didn't make eye contact with me and for the first time, that bothered me. Rick always had a habit of staring right into my eyes when we talked, or when he was just watching me.
He was avoiding my gaze completely.

‘You alright?’ I asked, cautiously.
He just nodded again, and then looked over at me, not into my eyes, but at my bruises, at my cuts and my scars. I wanted to disappear into oblivion.
‘Oi’ I said, giving him a nudge to get his attention. Anything to make him stop looking at me like that.

‘I'm sorry I didn't do anything sooner’ He whispered.

I felt the breath get sucked out of my lungs and my whole body seemed to stiffen up. I had never admitted that my Dad had done this to anyone before. I had had teachers at school ask me, I would tell them it was nothing, got into a fight, if they tried to pursue it I would normally start mouthing off and get myself in trouble. I'm sure people knew, put two and two together and worked it out, but no one ever said anything. No one asked, no one cared. They especially didn't get upset over it. Rick cared, he cared way too much. No one had ever been like this with me, not Ma, not Merle. Rick was good, he didn't understand, he was too kind and caring for the reality I lived, he would never fully understand, but he was good, and he kept trying.

‘It’s okay, It’s not on you’ I said, my voice was much steadier than I had been betting on, it broke through the silence easily. Rick looked up at my words, his eyes snapping back onto mine again, right here I wanted them.

‘But I could have done something’ he said quietly, his voice shook.

‘You tried. I didn't want the help. S’my fault, ima stubborn son of a bitch.’

He still looked sad. I noticed his eyes tearing up and I wanted to do everything in my power to stop him from crying because I never knew what to do around a crying person. Never knew what to say, I was terrible at comfort.

‘Bit like you, you a stubborn son of a bitch too’ I added, in a desperate attempt to try make him laugh. He did a sort of half chuckle, which was better than nothing.
‘Just, don’t go feeling bad about it. Ain't worth it.’

I then did something Merle would beat my ass for. I slipped my fingers around his, they were warm and slightly callused, and they were shaking ever so slightly. I squeezed them as gently as I could.
He squeezed back.

Chapter Text

GRIMES.

Shane called me at about quarter to one. They had got Will Dixon in custody. Shane and a few others had waited at the house for his return, he staggered home drunk at about noon. He put up a fight, swearing and throwing his fists around. Shane managed to cuff him and they had taken him in for questioning.
They needed me there, because I was the first on the scene. I was the one who found all the blood.

I made sure I had the phone call in the spare room, because I didn't want Daryl to overhear it. I didn't know how he was going to take it and I had to figure out the best way to talk to him about it.

He was watching Back to the Future when I went in to tell him. I paused it, and he looked thoroughly displeased at me for doing so.
‘Whatcha do that for?’ he snapped, trying to grab the remote back off me.
‘We gotta talk.’
‘Bout what? Thought we were done with the heart to heart bullshit’ he said moodily.

‘Daryl, they just arrested your Dad’ I said. he became very still and I couldn't read his expression.

‘Why?’ he asked quietly, refusing to meet my eyes.
‘You know why.’

He sighed and started to chew the skin along the side of his thumb, he did this when he was stressed, I suppose stressed was better than him being angry. Made him easier to talk to anyway.

‘It ain't worth it, y’know. It ain't worth going to all this trouble about.’

It was sad, really fucking sad. He had been beaten bloody and left to die, and by the scars that littered his body, it wasn't the first time it had happened either. But he didn't think it was worth bothering over, he didn't think that it was that bad a crime.

‘It is. You didn't deserve any of it, and he deserves to pay for what he’s done’ my voice was firm, he needed to believe me.
He just shrugged.

‘I've got to go down to the station for a bit to question him.’
His head snapped up, a look of pure panic crossed his face.
‘Why? Why do you have to, why can’t someone else do it?’ he asked, he was speaking a bit too fast, his eyes wide his breathing sounded rapid.
‘Cause I was the first on the scene, I'm classed as a witness, kind of.’

I didn't know exactly why he was panicking, but I didn't ask him, because the chances are he wouldn't tell and I didn't want to make things worse.

‘It’s ain't worth it, really, just ring the station and tell them to let him go.’
‘That’s not my call, Daryl.’

He started gnawing on the side of his thumb again.
‘I won’t be gone long, I’ll be two, three hours tops. Help yourself to food and all that, I’ll be back soon as I can.’
He just nodded, staring at the TV that was still paused and chewing the side of his thumb.

*

Shane met me at the doors. He looked grim, and the dark circles under his eyes indicated that he hadn't slept that night, he had been up waiting outside the house, waiting for Dixon to return.

‘What’s he like?’ I asked, soon as Shane was in earshot.
‘Difficult’ Shane said, a scowl forming on his face. ‘How’s the kid doing?’
‘He’s very bruised, got a lot of stitches. Weren't too happy bout the fact I had to question his old man about it.’

‘You know that if there’s a court case he’ll have to speak’ Shane said, watching me carefully. I did know that, and I was dreading it having to come to that. It might mean justice, but it would also mean Daryl standing in a courtroom facing his Dad and trying to tell a judge what he had been through. I didn't know if that was something he would be able to do, especially when he even struggled to talk to me about it.

‘I know. Let’s just get this over with, don’t want to leave Daryl on his own for too long.’

I had seen Will Dixon before, we had his mug shot in our files. He was mean looking, dead eyed and had skin aged by a lifetime of drugs, smokes and excessive drinking. He looked so much wore in real life, and it felt surreal. My stomach turned as I entered the room, his eyes fixed directly onto me, narrowing as I took the seat opposite him. Shane remained standing a few inches behind me, obviously hoping he could play bad cop.

This man was the reason Daryl’s skin was bruised black and was sliced open. He put the scars onto his body, he was the reason Daryl screamed in his sleep last night.

I was bad cop today.

‘And who the hell are you?’ he asked, leaning forward on the table, smirking at me.
‘Officer friendly’ I snarled.
He chuckled, ‘Well then Officer Friendly, you wanna tell me what I'm in for?’

I felt my skin crawl as he smirked at me, as though he didn't even care.
‘You know damn well why you’re in here.’

‘The boy got into a fight, s’what boys do. Ain't my fault kid don’t know how to defend himself properly.’
He leant back in his chair, legs spread out, he looked utterly relaxed.

‘Oh don’t you try and pull that’ I heard Shane sneer from behind me. ‘Kid didn't get into a fight, we ain't stupid.’

‘You think I did that to him huh? Is that what he told ya? Did he go crying to the cops like the little pussy he is?’
I closed my firsts around the side of the table, squeezing until my knuckles turned white. I felt hot, anger boiled through me, I wanted to beat that smug look off of his face.
I had to focus, I had to do my job.

‘Daryl didn't call us out, neighbours did. They heard you shouting.’
Will raised his eyebrows and sat up a little, a look of mocking concern playing across his face.
‘Now how good does that look if we put it with everything else we found, the blood, the empty bottles. Hell our boys ain't done searching that house yet, might even find the knife you used.’
My voice was cold and calm, I didn't want him to know I was ready to slam his head against the table he was sitting in front of, I wanted him to sweat first, feel nervous, scared. I wanted him to feel how Daryl felt. I wanted him to know.

At the mention of people searching his house, he definitely seemed more uncomfortable. He stiffened up, the smirk momentarily dropped off his face. He replaced it quickly, trying to look meaner than before.
‘You and you’re boys can poke around that house all you want. Won’t find anything more than my cigarette stash and a stack of porn.’
‘Well we’ll see about that’ I snarled.

He laughed, harsh and mocking. It made my skin crawl.

‘All this bullshit cause the stupid boy went and got himself beat up’ he chuckled. My temper was running out, my knuckles grew whiter still and my jaw clenched.

‘He’s always causing trouble, that boy. Gets himself in ta trouble at school, getting himself into fights he can’t win, always making me angry, his big brother got himself locked up more times than I can count by you sorry pricks for stealing food so his baby brother could stuff his fat face. Should’a aborted his ass, always told his momma that. More trouble than he’s worth.’

I snapped. I stood up, slamming my hands down onto the table. I was baring down on him, I was shaking, I was furious. ‘How dare you-’
Shane put a hand on my shoulder and tried to pull my back. I yanked away from him easily. I was ablaze with white hot anger.

‘Rick’ Shane's voice snapped through my anger. I ignored it.

‘How dare you talk that way about him. You've tortured him all his damn life, you don’t deserve to even know him, let alone have him as your son.’ I reached over the table and gripped the front of the man’s shirt as roughly as I could, pulling his face closer towards mine.

‘You ever go near Daryl again, I’ll beat your ass into the ground you understand that?’

He was staring me out, his sunken eyes narrowed, his yellowed teeth bared.
‘Do you understand that?’ I shouted, keeping my face inches away from his.
‘Rick!’ Shane pulled me back. I let go of his shirt and he fell back down into his chair. Shane grabbed my arm and marched me out the room, slamming the door behind him.

Chapter Text

DIXON.

I sat at Rick’s kitchen table with a box of cookies and a can of squirty cheese.
Not a great combination, but it didn't matter. Rick didn't really have much else snack wise in his kitchen and the more I busied myself with eating, the less I thought about my current situation.

I was nervous, so nervous it was making my stomach turn. The food helped, it distracted my stomach for a bit, stopped it from dropping every time I thought about Rick and my Dad in the same room, talking about me, Dad telling him how useless I was, how I had asked for it, how it was my fault… I filled my mouth up with squirty cheese again.

It was a waste of time, all of it. A complete waste. He never got locked up, not even when he was drunk and starting bar fights. It was like he had immunity. Merle on the other hand seemed to get locked up for anything and everything, it was like if he looked at someone the wrong way he’d get cuffed and take down to the station. I had always wished it had been the other way around. But no matter how many nights Dad spent in the drunk tank, they would always let him come stumbling home the next day, stinking of vomit and booze and ready to beat my ass to high hell.

I stuffed a few cookies into my face.

What if after talking with him, Rick didn't want me here anymore, and I would have to go back there with him?
I would have to go back there eventually though, Rick wouldn't want me around forever. I was gunna have to go back there, and after all this he would be furious, and without Merle there I might as well start digging my own grave.

More squirty cheese.

It had been over an hour now, I know he said he would be at least two hours, but I had started to grow impatient. What did they have to talk about for that long? Why couldn't someone else question him?
I got up and started to pace, pausing occasionally to stuff some more cookies or to squirt more cheese into my mouth.
The clock didn't seem to be moving, I had to stare at the second hand to make sure it was ticking round.

When it reached the two hour mark the panic began to raise in my chest and my stomach began to turn more, the breaks in my pacing to fill my mouth became more frequent, and it was only when I reached down into the cookie box to find it was empty did I realize how much I had just eaten.

I panicked. I stopped pacing, slumped back down into the kitchen chair and let myself panic.

He wouldn't want me here now, I had just raided his cupboards and ate for the damn sake of eating. If Dad hadn't put him off me, this would.

‘Can’t have you sitting around doing nothing and expecting to get fed now can we?’

I felt sick, my chest tightened and my face burned.
I couldn't breathe.

I heard a key in the lock, I heard Rick’s voice, I tried to respond to him but I couldn't get words out. I still couldn't breathe.

He was at my side in seconds, I felt his hands on my face and I flinched away, he would be angry, I knew that. When people got angry I got hurt.
‘Daryl, it’s okay, just breathe, just breath.’
I felt his hand close around mine, his thumb rubbing the back of my hand.
‘Take deep breaths, I'm here now. You’re okay, you’re gunna be just fine.’
His voice was calm, it cut right through the panic and cleared a part of my mind. I inhaled, my chest still tight, but I just managed it.
‘That’s great, you’re doing great, look up at me and keep breathing.’

I fixed my gaze on his eyes, just like I had when we first met, they were worried, but gentle, he weren't angry at me. He weren't going to hurt me, he weren't like that.
My breathing started to steady, I was shaking, and Goddamn did my stitches hurt, but I was breathing, and he wasn't angry.

He got me some water, I took it in my shaking hand and sipped at it. He held my hand like I had held his earlier that day, still running his thumb gently across the back.
‘Are you feeling better?’ he asked, sounding a little unsure of himself.
I nodded and stammered out a ‘yes.’
‘What happened?’ he asked me, his voice soft.
I swallowed hard, I felt the shakes worsen again. ‘I err- I kind of… IateallofthecookiesIwasn’tthinkingandI’mreallysorry!’ I blurted out.

He stared at me for a moment, bewildered. I felt my breathing speed up again.

‘Hey, it’s fine, don’t worry about it’ he said, calm as anything.

‘What?’

‘I said don’t worry about it, it’s just some cookies, I told you to help yourself.’
I stared at him, feeling slightly dazed. ‘But I don’t need it.’ I felt stupid having to tell him, because wasn't it obvious? He shouldn't have to be told.
He looked at me as though I had just slapped him. ‘Daryl you need to eat’ he told me, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He was missing my point completely, I knew I needed to eat, I wasn't an idiot, but I didn't need to eat all that just then, food was for survival, I had just mindlessly stuffed it into my mouth to stop myself from thinking about my Dad and Rick in the same room.

‘Didn't need to eat that though, can’t afford to eat that much, I'm sor-’
He pulled me into a hug before I could even finish.
It kind of hurt my bruising, but I didn't care, I even wrapped my arms back around him.
‘You don’t gotta be sorry’ I heard him mumble into my shoulder.

He pulled away, putting a hand on the side of my face that was the least bruised.
‘Whatever he told you, you need to wipe it out, because it ain't true’ he said, he sounded serious.
I sighed and lent myself against Rick, flopping my head onto his shoulder. One of his hands reached up and stroked my hair back, fingertips running over my scalp, it felt amazing.

‘What did you talk to him about?’ I asked, deciding to change the subject, partly because the focus on me was making me uncomfortable, but mostly because I was desperate to know what had actually been said.

‘Just stuff, got angry.’

‘Yeah he has that effect on people.’

‘I'm sorry you had to live with that’ he said quietly. I looked up at him, I wasn't expecting him to say that. ‘Whatever he told you, it ain't true, and what he did to you, you didn't deserve any of it.’

We were quiet for a moment. He continued to run his fingers through my hair. It was calming, I think I remember Ma doing it when I was little and scared and getting stitched up. I closed my eye tightly and let myself think about her, about the day I came home to find the house burnt down, with Ma and everything she owned inside it. I remember the small funeral at the shitty little church with the pastor who always got a little too close for comfort. Merle wasn't there, never spoke of it when he got back, pretended like it didn't happen, like we never even had a Mother. Dad was so angry afterwards. Alone, drunk, those were the worst days. It felt so constant, every day, every time he came back from the bar stinking of whiskey and smoke, I didn't have anyone to stitch me back together then, I had to just let it bleed and hope it didn't get infected. I couldn't leave, I had nowhere to go, I had no one.

‘How would you know?’ I asked Rick in a voice that was barely audible, I didn't really mean to ask him it out loud, but I let the words slip out anyway. I felt him go stiff for a moment, but he relaxed quickly and wrapped an arm around me.

‘Because you ain't nothing like he is. You’re good. You’re a good man.’

A good man. Now there’s something. I grew up in a shit hole with an asshole Dad and a junkie brother, when I was little my teachers called me volatile, short tempered and violent. I wasn't even going into all the shit my Dad told me I was. I was redneck scum. I was a goddamn Dixon, most cops wouldn't spit on a guy like me if I were on fire. But there was no uncertainty in Rick’s voice when he said it. He was firm, like there was no question about it. Too Rick, I was good. A good man with the last name Dixon, it was almost laughable. But maybe if Rick thought I was good, maybe I was.

Chapter Text

GRIMES.

Since speaking with Will Dixon, Daryl’s reactions to the world started to make more and more sense to me. He was jumpy, but I had always guessed why. It was the nervousness in his voice when he asked a question and how he always turned down food, how he’d cross his arms over himself when he felt insecure and how he tried so hard not to show pain that I had struggled to understand. It suddenly all made sense.

After his panic attack, I had to check him over again to make sure he hadn't pulled any stitches. He didn't want to take his shirt off the first time I had to check, but he was even more reluctant now.
I remembered what Will said, about how Merle had got locked up for stealing food for Daryl to ‘stuff his fat face.’ Putting that with what Daryl had said, about not needing to eat and not being able to afford to eat made me feel uneasy. Daryl was skin and bone, hollow cheeks and prominent ribs. He was underweight, he looked ill. I was scared he didn't know that. I wondered how often Daryl’s Father said things like that to him.

‘Daryl, come on, I just want to make sure you’re all okay.’
He shook his head and repeated ‘M’fine, it don’t hurt’ while gripping the bottom of his shirt tightly.

We needed to get past this, and if that were to happen I had to talk to him about it, I just had to get it out of him.

‘Why don’t you want me to check?’ I asked, trying to keep the impatient tone out of my voice.
‘Cause it’s fine, ain't pulled out my stitches, waste of time.’
‘Making sure you’re okay is not a waste of time’ I said firmly, he avoided my eyes and started fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

I tried a new tactic, a daring one that could earn me a punch in the face from him.

‘What are you so scared off?’

I hit a nerve, I knew I would before I even said it, but that was the point.
His head snapped up and his eyes narrowed, his face contorted into a snarl. ‘I ain't afraid of nothing’ he hissed.
‘You’re afraid of me checking you over for some reason’ I said airily. If I played this right, I could avoid him giving me a black eye and get to check he was okay.
‘Am not’ he growled, eyes still narrowed, like he was daring me to keep talking.
‘Prove it then.’
He paused for a moment, and for a second I saw the anger get replaced with a flash of panic. ‘Fine’ he snapped, and he slowly pulled his shirt off, grimacing in pain at doing so.
The bruising was dark and had started to yellow around the edges. He was still swollen in places, but it looked like it was starting to go down. He hadn't pulled any stitches thank god, but it still looked painful, and they still made my heart break at the sight of them. ‘Told you it was fine’ he muttered, folding his arms cross his stomach. ‘Well there’s no harm in making sure’ I said softly, giving him a small smile.

‘Yeah but it hurts like a bitch getting the shirt on and off every time you wanna play nurses.’

I chuckled, and he gave a small, pained smile, still with his arms wrapped around his middle. ‘Here let me help you put the shirt back on’ I offered, Daryl looked at me reluctantly, but sighed and nodded all the same. I picked up the shirt and slipped it onto him carefully, trying to save him from moving around too much.

‘Do you want me to get you some painkillers?’

He nodded again, refusing to meet my eye and even with his shirt on, crossing his arms over himself.
He looked ready to cry. I pretended not to notice.

*

I ordered pizza for dinner that night. I didn't feel like cooking, plus I didn't really have anything in the apartment to cook, I desperately needed to go grocery shopping. I hadn't had pizza in a while, and there was a good chance Daryl had never had one, so I thought it was a good idea. I ordered a large cheese pizza to split between us.

We sat opposite each other at my small kitchen table, the box set out in the middle. Daryl fidgeted around, keeping his eyes averted from the food, as though it was wrong to even look at it. Will Dixon’s words ran though my head and I felt a hot flush of anger course through me. This was all his fault. He had filled Daryl’s head with lies.

‘Common, you gotta eat’ I encouraged though a mouthful of pizza.
‘But I ate too much earlier’ he said quietly, frowning a little and staring down at a coffee stain on the table.
‘You didn't’ I stated. Daryl shrugged. ‘Are you hungry?’ I asked. Daryl looked up at me quickly, as though taken by surprise. He shook his head.

His stomach growled angrily and he turned bright red.

‘I think your stomach disagrees with you’ I said, giving him a small smile.
If possible, he turned even redder, he sunk backwards into the chair, hunching himself in, trying to make himself smaller.

‘Daryl, if you’re hungry, you gotta eat’ I said softly.
He shook his head again.
‘Not really, I can last a while without it. Got enough meat on my bones for that’ he said sadly. His voice shaky, he gave me a very weak smile.

I felt like I had been punched in the gut.

My first instinct was to march my ass back down to the station and give Will Dixon a beating of his own. But that was stupid, unneeded and a sure fire was of getting me sacked. Daryl needed my full attention right now, I couldn't be wasting thoughts about beating the hell out of his Father. Daryl kept his eyes down and his arms folded tightly over himself, tighter than normal, it was like he was trying to squeeze himself smaller. He looked ashamed, embarrassed. His hollow cheeks were still tinged red and I noticed how his fingers pinched at his sides. With the amount of bruising he had, that had got to hurt.

‘Daryl, you’re tiny.’

‘I-what?’ he looked up at me, confused. Head tilted and eyes narrowed, trying to figure out if I was lying to him.

‘I said you’re tiny. You’re skin and bone, Daryl.’
He froze, staring at me, eyes still narrowed in distrust.
‘What did he tell you?’ I asked. Because that’s where it all stemmed down too in the end.
Daryl was caught off guard at his. He blinked at me, I almost expected him to get angry and start shouting. Instead he hung his head in shame and turned scarlet.

‘Said I didn't deserve it. Food I mean. If I didn't catch game, I wasn't allowed to eat. I couldn't afford too, needed exercise. Said I would get fat.’
He said the last part so quiet I almost didn't hear him.

My heart dropped, and maybe broke a little bit too. Daryl was still and utterly silent, staring down into his lap and chewing the side of his thumb. I felt anger, anger towards his Father. I swallowed it down and took a deep breath. I had to handle this carefully.

‘You know that’s not true right?’

I didn't bother to specify what part wasn't true, because none of it was. He did deserve food, he could afford to eat, he didn't need the exercise. He was wasting away. He had been staved. What his father did was inhumane, all of it, from the beating to refusing him food to the emotional abuse he had put Daryl through. No one deserved this.
Daryl was quiet for a moment, still avoiding eye contact.

‘Ain't ever been told otherwise. Just kinda guessed he was right.’

‘Well I'm telling you otherwise.’
I shuffled my chair around the table so I was sitting next to him. He looked up at me, giving me that adorable half smile of his.
‘It’s okay to eat’ I told him. My hand brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. ‘It’s okay.’

He enjoyed the pizza, said he liked the stuffed crusts best. Told me he had only had pizza when Merle had enough money and a free night, which was a very rare thing apparently. We watched Top Gun afterwards, and Daryl fell asleep in my arms.
I relaxed properly for the first time since he got to mine. He was safe, curled up on the sofa, head resting on my chest. He looked so peaceful when he slept, so much younger, so innocent. I pressed a gentle kiss on the top of his slightly greasy hair. He was safe, and no one was gunna hurt him again.

He was safe.

Chapter Text

DIXON.

Three days had past. It was Monday morning.
Which meant I had to go back to school.

I woke to the sound of Rick's alarm clock at 7am. My head was resting on Rick's chest. i woke up screaming at around midnight and he had to come in to settle me down. He stayed with me, wrapping his arms around me and holding me close, like every night since I got here. And as much as i knew that it was wrong, and that it was shameful, and Merle would beat the living hell out of me if he knew, I was glad he stayed.

I couldn’t shower properly yet, because I couldn’t get my stitches wet, so I hung my head over the basin and let rick assist in washing my hair, which had gotten too greasy to excuse. It was an uncomfortable experience, I was topless and had the scars on my back in fully exposed. Rick didn’t comment on them, but he ran his thumb gently over a particularly rigid one across my left shoulder blade while rubbing shampoo into my hair.

He made me eat breakfast, like every morning since I had been staying with him. I wasn’t used to three meals a day, I wasn’t used to feeling so full all the time, i wasn't sure wether I liked it or not.
It was lucky charms this morning, so I didn’t complain.

I dressed in a loose pair of Rick’s jeans and a oversized button down shirt. I hadn’t brought myself to go back there and get some of my own clothes yet. He wouldn’t be there, I knew that, but I didn’t want to see that house again. Rick didn’t seem to mind me wearing his clothes anyway.

‘You sure you’re ready to go back to school?’ Rick asked me for the fifth time that morning. I nodded, shovelling a spoonful of cereal into my mouth. ‘You don’t have to, you know, you could take a few more days if you feel you need too.’
‘Rick, I’ll be fine.’
It’s not like I wanted to go back, well I did want too, but it wasn’t an overpowering love for dingy high school classrooms and stuck up jocks that was pulling me back. It was something I had to do, because I could do it. I wanted to do something.
‘Okay. You’ll call me if you need anything, right?’
‘Yeah.’

He drove me, he had half an hour before he needed to be at the station, I told him to say hey to Glenn from me if he went to get coffee.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the wing mirror. My bruising had gone down a lot, but I still had a visible back eye, my lip was still spilt and my cheek was still strange mix of purple and yellow. I took a deep breath and pulled Ricks jacket tighter around myself.
Rick pulled up outside the main doors. I wasn’t used to being at school on time. Kids were moving around in groups, talking, laughing, heading towards their lessons.
‘I’ll be fine.’ I said, because I knew exactly what Rick was thinking.
‘Okay. I’ll pick you up from here after school.’
He sounded defeated.
I let myself out of the car, standing up and letting the cool wind blow my hair out of my face. ‘Have a good day’ Rick said from inside the car.
‘You too’ I responded, before closing the car door and making my way up the steps to the main doors.

*

At school, I was invisible. At least, I was invisible until I showed up covered in bruises, it wasn't the first time it had happened, and even though I was safe with Rick, I doubted it would be the last. People couldn’t seem to keep their eyes off me. Whispers followed me wherever I went, they followed me through the halls and surrounded me in the classrooms. I shot dirty looks at people who were whispering too loudly, but I didn't say a word. I managed it well until 3rd period, which was biology, when a boy in my class called Phillip asked me who I pissed off to earn myself a beating. Our teacher had left the room, I guessed Phillip had been waiting for this opportunity.

I told him to mind his own business.
He kept looking at me with that smug look of his. 'I'm only curious. People talk, you know, and i've heard some very interesting theories on who gave you that black eye.'
I gritted my teeth and told him once again to back off.

'Ain't nothing to be ashamed of, you ain't got your big brother around to save your ass every time you piss someone off, we get that.'

I swung at him, fist slamming against the side of his head. Some people gasped, some people yelled, some cheered and others laugh. ‘Guess everyone knows who you pissed off to earn yourself that’ I smirked.

His face contorted, he swung back at me, I dodged and he stumbled.

‘Bet you got a lot of practise, flitching away like that. Trying to avoid Daddies fists now were we?’ Phillip snarled, pulling himself up straight and narrowing his eyes.
My insides twisted together and I felt my face burn.
‘That’s right Dixon, we all know, Daddy likes to use you-’
I slammed him up against the classroom wall, my forearm pressing against his throat, pinning him down. He sputtered, trying to push me off, but I kept him there. I was burning with rage, or shame, or maybe a mixture of the too. All I knew is I wanted to hurt this kid. Take one of his eyes out like some girl with dreadlocks in our maths class had threatened to do to him. I liked her idea.

‘Dixon! Blake! What on earth is going on?’

I released my hold on Phillip, he gasped out for air as soon as I let go. I didn’t realize quite how hard I had been pressing. I didn't care either.

I didn’t bother trying to explain myself. I let our teacher give me detention while I stared Phillip down, daring him to say anything like that again. My cheeks were still hot, I could feel my face burn for what felt like the rest of the lesson. If people were looking at me before, it was nothing compared to the amount of stares I was getting now. Everyone knew, they had all heard him, they saw how I reacted. They knew. They had to know.
I tried to push it out of my mind, I wanted my cheeks to stop burning, I wanted everyone to stop starring at me. I caught a girl called Amy giving me a sympathetic look across the classroom. She wasn't the only one. I clutched my jaw and focused a hard stare on the back of Phillip Blake’s head, I wanted to be angry, furious. I wanted to feel anything but ashamed.

*

I used the payphone outside the school gates to call the station. I told Rick I got detention, told him to pick me up an hour later instead, if that was possible and he still wanted too. He asked me what happened, I told him I punched a boy in my class, I didn’t tell him why.
When he asked why, I told him I’d explain later. I didn’t want to even think of what he had said right now, I felt my cheeks redden in anger, definitely anger. nothing else.
He told me he would meet me outside school an hour after we had originally planned.

The last few periods were dull and seemed to be never-ending. Phillip kept shooting dark stares at me across the classrooms which I returned, making sure there were even more fearsome than his and not being the first one to look away. The sympathetic stares kept coming my way, so did a few mocking ones. i preferred them, i knew how to defend myself against them.

My detention wasn’t in the science block. I wasn’t even with the teacher who had given me detention. Our school has this stupid policy where kids with detentions have to help out around the school for an hour. Its basically free labour. I was in the art block, scrubbing the dried paint of the pallets.

I liked art when I first started, I was never any good at it, but I tried. I got my homework in on time, I turned up to all the classes and I even did a bit of extra credit for the class. Mr Horvarth, the art teacher, had always liked me, he was one of the very few teachers how did. No matter how awful my drawings were, he told me that he liked them, he tried so hard to find something in my work to compliment. He was fighting a losing battle, I couldn’t draw to save my life.

There were a few kids in the art classroom, but they weren’t here to serve detention, instead they were working. At the front of the classroom sat a boy in my grade, name was Randall I think, there was another boy, year above me, Axel, he lent me smokes a few times, if I remember rightly. At the back, nearest the sinks and me, was a small blonde girl who I recognised to be Maggie Greene’s little sister. Beth, I was pretty sure it was Beth.

I had scrubbed the paint off about half the pallets, the underneath of my fingernails were clogged with dried paint, and my hands were red and had started to itch from the washing up liquid.
I kept shooting looks back at the other students in the classroom. After about fifteen minuets, Randall got up, packed his things away and left. Axel kept looking at Beth out of the corner of his eye. Beth seemed oblivious to this.

I kept on scrubbing.

‘You’re Beth right, Maggie’s sister?’
Axels voice made me snap my head round and glimpse at them over my shoulder.
‘Yeah, that’s me’ she said, in a friendly, sing-song voice.
‘You don’t look like her much.’
I had scrubbed the pallet complete free of paint, yet I kept scrubbing it, I was more interested in the words being shred behind me.
‘Oh, we don’t have the same Mother.’ Beth said politely.
‘How old are you?’
‘15’
‘Hmm, Interesting.’
‘uh huh.’
She sounded uncomfortable. I knew what Axel was doing, and he sucked at hitting on girls. He seemed unaware he was making her uncomfortable. I don't think he would have spoken to her if he knew.

There was a slight shuffle and I dropped the pallet down into the sink, turning around. I wasn’t one to stick my nose in on other peoples business, but I couldn’t help myself.

‘Axel, you keep talking to her in that tone you know her older sister will hunt you down’ I said gruffly, turning around to face the two of them. Axel went very red and started to mumble something about needing to be somewhere before swinging his rucksack over his back and leaving the classroom. Beth was staring at me, she looked very grateful and slightly shocked.

‘Thank you’ She said, smiling at me. I felt myself blush and I rubbed the back of my neck.
‘Ain’t nothin’ I muttered gruffly, turning back to the sink to continue cleaning.

A few seconds of awkward silence past before she spoke again.
‘Hey, urm, if its not too much trouble, could I use you for something?’
I froze. What on earth could she need me for?
I turned to her, my eyes narrowing. She was looking at me, hopefully, and maybe a little scared.

‘What do you need?’ I asked.

‘Well, I need to do a portrait painting for extra credit, and well, you’ve got a urm, a nice face.’
I’ve never seen anyone blush such a dark shade of red in my life. I felt my face heat up too, which seemed to be happening more often than usual. I had never heard that before. I was always told I wasn’t pleasant to look at. My features were odd, I knew that. I had had my nose broken and my cheekbone broken and one of my eyes always seemed to look sleepier than the other. I wasn't a picture of good looks.

‘Sure there’s some much better looking people out there to paint.’

‘Please, it wont take long.’

I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck again. She was looking at me with these big blue pleading eyes. It would mean I didn’t have to wash up the rest of the palettes.

‘Fine, but you best do me justice’ I joked, trying to wipe that frightened look off her face.
It worked; she relaxed, smiling at me widely. I sat down in the chair opposite the desk she was working on. She had a sketchbook open, the pages were covered in roses, pink, red, white and yellow. All done in what looked to me like watercolour. I wanted to tell her they were good, but something stopped me. She placed a large white sheet of paper on the desk, and started to arrange her paintbrushes.

‘What do you want me to do?’ I asked her, because I wasn’t so sure. My face sudden felt very strange, the expression I usually wore without thought now felt wrong, too angry, too tight. I smiled, but that felt wrong too, it felt unnatural. I was concentrating on it to much.

‘Just relax. I want to paint you, so you gotta be yourself.’

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes momentarily to clear my head.
When I opened my eyes she was staring at me expectantly, paintbrush in hand. ‘You ready?’ she asked me, almost nervously.

‘Yeah, go for it.’

And she got to work, her paintbrush gliding effortlessly across the paper. she glanced up at me ever so often, only for seconds at a time, I tried to stay as still as possible. I didn’t know one painting could have so many different colours in. I didn’t know how many different shades were needed to make up my skin tone, or how many different shades of brown and gold my hair had in it. She worked quietly, and I liked that, because I didn’t want to have the stress of making conversation. It felt nice like this, like this was the beginning of a friendship, even though no words were spoken.

She hadn’t painted my bruises. I noticed this. I thought she was waiting till the end to add them in.
She never did.

We sat there for about an hour. At some point I noticed Mr Horvarth entering the classroom. He didn’t say anything, but I think he watched us for a while.
When she finished, she had paint all over her fingertips and on her face when she had rubbed it. I looked down at my face, painted carefully and with detail I didn’t even know my face had. My eyes were a deep blue, they were darker around the irises and the she had made them look like waves. My lips were a pale pink, with teeth marks on the bottom lip where I chewed it when I was nervous and I had a mole just above my mouth on the right side.
But there were no bruises. The hadn’t included the marks on my neck where he had throttled me, or the dark bruising around my eye and down my cheekbone.

‘What do you think?’ she asked me, eyeing me anxiously.

I thought it looked much to good to resemble the likes of me.
I didn’t say this. Instead I asked, ‘Who taught you to paint like that?’

‘My Mother, she paints a lot, used to take me out to paint the scenery around the farm when I was a kid.’

‘You're good' I said, still staring at the paint.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked. It must have been in my voice, or on my face. She knew that something wasn’t right.
I couldn’t help myself.
‘You haven’t painted my bruises’ I said, before I could stop myself. She paused, looking down at the painting, and then back up at me.
I felt my face flame up once again.

‘You’re right, I didn’t.’

‘Why?’

Another pause. It made my heart beat faster and my breath catch in my lung.

‘Because, I wanted to draw you, and I don’t think the bruises define you.’

My heart skipped a beat and I stared at her. I saw fear flash in her eyes and her looked down into her lap almost immediately, completely avoiding my gaze. ‘Sorry’ she said quickly. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’

I must have looked angry, I knew that that happened sometimes, anger was just part of my nature. I felt it so often it my face just moulded that way.
‘No, you didn’t upset me, I just- I’m not used to-’
I sighed. I hated getting tongue-tide, it was embarrassing, Merle used to mock me for it when we were kids, in the end I learnt to just shut up and let him do the talking. I think we both preferred it that way anyway.

‘Thanks’ I ended up saying, giving her a smile.

A look of relief rushed across her face, she grinned at me, I noticed a splotch of pink paint on her nose.
I looked back down at the painting of myself, and for the first time, I liked what I saw.

Chapter Text

GRIMES.

I spent half my day writing up a report on what I found at the Dixon household. I spend the other half of my day actually in the Dixon household. They found a knife in the back yard, which was rusty and blood-stained. They sealed it in a baggy and took it away to forensics. I couldn’t look at it. It made my stomach turn over and my mouth go dry. I heard the term ‘attempted murder’ said, only once though. The words made my head spin and I had to sit down on the porch and get some fresh air. A lot of the officers didn’t know what to call it. No one liked using the term child abuse. It didn't feel enough to describe it all.

Will Dixon hadn’t confessed to anything. Not a damn thing. Shane kept on him, interrogating him. I wasn’t allowed back in there with him just yet after what happened last time.

They needed to speak to Daryl.

If Daryl told them the truth, there would be a court case that he had a good chance of winning. But the truth meant the scars and the insults and everything Daryl wasn’t comfortable telling me, let alone a court full of people. If Daryl lied, which would be easiest for him, Will Dixon would be released. He would go back to this shithole Daryl had called home, he would walk the streets a free man. There would be no justice.

I didn’t want to think about that, I didn’t want to think about any of it.

I drove down the high school and hour after originally planned. I needed to figure out a way of telling Daryl he had to be questioned. Something in my gut told me he wouldn’t take it well.

I spotted Daryl immediately. The clothes he had borrowed from me hung off his tiny frame, his hair was unkempt, but clean, which was a first, and he was smiling.
I raised my eyebrows and watched as he held open the door for a small blonde girl who appeared to be listening intently to what he was saying. He made a lot of hand gestures, I noticed. I ached to know what he was talking about that made him smile like that. They paused for a moment, and she hugged him, he was taken by surprise, and he flinched slightly. My heart sank at the fact such a sweet looking little girl could make him flinch like that. I was suddenly, unpleasantly reminded of what I had to talk to him about.
He hugged her back, somewhat awkwardly, but it was a hug all the same.

They parted ways and he walked over to me, the corners of his lips turned up.

‘Who’s the friend?’ I asked him once he opened the car door and lowered himself into the front seat. He grimaced in pain as he did, my heart just kept on sinking.
Daryl blushed and looked nervous. ‘Oh, her names Beth. We had detention together.’
‘You wanna tell me what you did to land yourself in detention?’

I wish I hadn’t asked, because the warm look on Daryl’s face seemed to freeze off, he looked to be at a place between angry and shameful. Its sad how many times I’ve seen that look on his face.

‘Some kid made a joke ‘bout my Dad, ‘bout my bruises. So I punched him.’
His knuckled were red, his fists clenched in his lap. I felt a sharp twinge of anger in my gut.
‘Did you punch him hard?’ I asked, my teeth gritted.
‘Hard as I could.’
‘Good.’
Daryl smirked and I started the car.

The drive home was quiet. Daryl had mastered the art of sitting completely motionless and not making a sound. He looked like a statue when he sat that still. Carved carefully out of marble. He was a work of art.

We got in and Daryl went straight to the kitchen to get himself a snack. He wasn’t so nervous about eating now, he ate when he was hungry, and sometimes I think he ate when he wasn’t hungry, but when he was bored or when he came across something he hadn’t tried before, which was a lot of things. He had taken a particular liking to Lucky Charms, and Pop-tarts.
I waited until he had finished eating.

‘Daryl, I gotta talk to you about something’ I said, forcing my voice out.
He froze, looking up at me from where he sat at the kitchen table. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, sounding concerned and slightly nervous.
I took a deep breath before walking over and taking a seat opposite him.
‘It’s been three days. We had to release your father today. We cant hold him any longer without charging him.’

Daryl took a sharp intake of breath and looked down at his hands.

‘They want to talk to you at the station. They want to know what happened.’
‘Why?’ he asked me, his voice sharp.
‘Because they want justice for you. I want justice for you, Daryl.’

He didn’t say anything, he started chewing the side of his thumb.
‘If you tell them everything, there will be a court case, and you have a good chance of winning, but-’
‘But I gotta tell the truth, right? I got to stand in a court full of people and tell them bout how my Dad uses me as a punch bag.’
He sounded bitter, his eyes narrowed and his face contorted into a scowl.

I just nodded at him, I didn’t have the words.

We were both quiet for a moment. Avoiding each others gaze.

He eventually shook his head.
‘Ain’t worth it. I’d rather keep it too myself. Ain’t no one else gotta know.’

I sighed, I was scared he would say that.

‘Daryl, if you do this, he would get locked up, you would get justice.’
He shrugged, still gnawing on his thumb.
‘Can handle myself. Don’t need others getting involved.’
‘But-’
‘But nothing, I ain’t doing it!’ he snapped. He stood up and stormed into the bedroom, I decided to leave him to it, it was best not to approach him when he was in a mood like this. He came out of the room to eat dinner, but he was sulky and didn’t say a word. He cleaned his plate quickly before retreating back to the bedroom.

The nightmares he had that night were the worst by far. He screamed and cried, I held him till he fell back to sleep again, but he would soon be muttering the words ‘No’, and ‘stop’, and ‘I’m sorry’ before the screaming kicked back in and I would have to shake him awake while he cried and curled away from me, thinking I was going to hurt him.

‘It’s okay Daryl, It’s me, it’s Rick. I ain’t ever gunna hurt you okay? You’re safe here.’

It was a long night.

Chapter Text

DIXON.

I wouldn’t do it.

There was no way in hell I was going to stand up in a courtroom full of people, including my old man himself, and talk about it. I wasn’t getting out my scars for them, I wasn’t telling them about how I was scared to speak to loudly and the nightmares I had had and the countless times I had to stitch myself up after he lost his temper.

I couldn’t do it. I could barely look at my scars in the mirror, I couldn’t even think about how I had gotten them without feeling sick. The smell of whiskey made my palms sweat and I felt nervous around men who were taller than me and weren’t Rick. I just wouldn’t be able to do it.

Its not like it would make a difference, he would smirk at me from across the courtroom and then spill some bullshit story about how I had got into a fight or something. He would find away to get himself out of it. Then he would hunt me down and beat me to death for causing him so much trouble. I had always been too much trouble, I cost too much, I ate too much, the scars drew too much attention. I was too loud, too lazy, too rude, stupid, fat, weak. Should have suffocated me in my sleep as a baby, he told me that when I was 6.

I lay sprawled out on the bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to Rick move around in the kitchen.

I wondered how long it would take Rick to realise I was a piece of shit too. Most people get it straight away. They take one look at me before clutching their bag close to them and crossing the street, giving me dirty looks as they went.

Why couldn’t Rick see what everyone else did?

I rolled onto my side and brought my knees up to my chest, curling myself into a ball.
He wasn’t going to let this court case thing go. He would leave it for a day or two, then bring it up again, try at get me to go down to the station and talk about it. Like a Dixon would ever be seen willingly at a police station. Cops hate Dixons, they wouldn’t help me. Redneck Dad beats his Redneck kid half to death. What do they care? It would have been one less Dixon to worry about. That’s how they would see it.

I felt sick, I curled up as tight as I could.
It hurt my cuts and bruises, but I ignored the pain and kept squeezing myself into a tighter ball.

It wouldn’t make a difference whether he was locked up or not. The scars would still be there, and I would still flitch at the sound of a belt being undone. He had left his mark on me, carved it into my skin so I would be forever reminded of what he had done. There was no escaping it.

Didn’t matter one bit if he got locked up. It wouldn’t change a thing.

Chapter Text

GRIMES.

I woke up before Daryl, which was unusual as Daryl was nearly always up at first light. He was curled up next to me, gripping the side of his pillowcase and was snoring ever so slightly. I brushed a strand of hair out of his face and spend a moment sitting in the bed next to him, absentmindedly stroking his arm. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep, a look he never had when he was awake. I ran my fingers through he hair and the corners of his lips turned up as he made a soft humming noise of pleasure. He was so beautiful, even with the faded dark bruising and the scars, everything he hated about himself. I wished he could see himself like I do. I wished I could erase every bad thought from his head, every bit of self-hatred, every nightmare. I wanted to make it okay for him more than anything.

I felt myself tear up. I couldn’t fix anything. I couldn’t fix him, I couldn’t lock his dad up, I couldn’t make him forget. He would never forget, he would always be haunted by it. I let out a small sob and buried my face in my hands. I felt so useless. So damn useless.

The tears kept coming, I kept my face in my hand and just let myself cry. I hadn’t done this in a long time.

I heard a rustle of the sheet and I pulled my face up, swallowing back the sobs and quickly wiping the tears away. Daryl sat up and was looking at me, concerned and almost fearful. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, he voice rough with sleep still, he cautiously shuffled closer to me, he looked as if he were debating touching me or not.

‘Nothing, its nothing, I’m okay’ I told him, sniffing and wiping my eyes harder this time, because the tears didn’t want to stop coming.

‘You don’t look very okay to me.’

A sob escaped, and Daryl flinched at the sound, which made me cry more.

‘Hey, it’s okay’ Daryl said, his voice soft. I felt his hand on my shoulder, he squeezed, and then started stroking up and down, like I did with him. ‘Its all okay.’
I kept crying, I couldn’t stop myself, he eventually wrapped his arms around me and I felt his fingertips running up and down my back, calming me down.
‘Sorry’ I muttered once the tears started to ebb away. ‘I’m sorry, everything’s okay, I’m just being silly.’

Daryl pulled away and looked up at me, his expression was unreadable like it often was. I wiped my face and started to take deep breaths. The tears stopped coming, but I didn’t feel any better.

‘I’ll go make you breakfast, there should be time to have pancakes before you got to leave for school. You just stay here.’
I vacated the bed, leaving him sat wrapped up in the sheets, still wearing that unreadable expression.

*
It had been about ten minuets. My eyes were sore and I couldn’t stop sniffing. I mixed up the batter and laid the table, I was shaking slightly as I did it.
When I looked up, I saw Daryl standing in the middle of the living room, looking at me. He was fully dressed in an old pair of my jeans and a plaid shirt he had taken a liking too. He had been eating well and had started to fill out the clothes better than he did when he first came here. They fit him almost properly now.

‘I’ll do it. I’ll talk to them.’

The words lingered in the air. Daryl’s face was set, but I saw his hands were clutched together, meaning they must have been shaking like they did when he was scared.

‘Daryl, you don’t have-’
‘Shut up and let me help you with those pancakes.’

We didn’t talk about it for the rest of the morning.

Chapter Text

DIXON.

We didn’t talk about it. We sat in the waiting room at the station in silence. I didn’t tell him what I planned to say, honestly because I didn’t have a plan, I had no idea. I had been trying desperately not to think too much about it because every time I did I felt sick. I had no choice but to think about it now, I felt sick to my stomach, every little noise made me flinch. Rick sat next to me, flicking through the case file, I saw my Dads mug shot, I even saw my brothers. I started chewing the side of my thumb. What the hell was I going to say? This was ridiculous, they wouldn’t believe me, they wouldn’t care. I’m just a Dixon.

‘Alright Rick, bring him in.’

The voice made me jump out of my skin. I looked up in alarm at the speaker who was standing at the door to the interview room, I recognised him, he was there the day I met Rick. I think he was Ricks partner, and I think his name was Shane. He looked at me with such pity that made me want to spit on him and run out of the station, but that wouldn’t help anyone, so I swallowed back my anger, bit down on the inside of my cheek and walked through the door he held open for me.

The room was exactly as Merle had described it to me when I was younger. Dark walls and a mirrored glass window. The table and chairs were bolted down to the floor and there was a CCTV camera filming my every move. I felt the urge to hurl. I looked around at Rick who smiled at me reassuringly and gestured for me to take a seat. I sat awkwardly on the edge of it, still chewing at the side of my thumb. Rick sat in the chair next to me, I didn’t look over at him.
Shane was sitting across the table next to a man I did not recognise, he was flipping the case file Rick handed him.

‘Mr. Dixon, I’m Sheriff Hudgens, and this is Officer Walsh’ the man I did not recognise said. He put the case file down on the table and reached over to shake my hand. I have never had to shake anyone’s hand before, I stared at his outstretched palm for a moment before reaching out and shaking it. I was very glad that Officer Walsh did not offer me a handshake. ‘Thank you for agreeing to come in and talk to us about this, I know it’s a quite personal subject for you’ Hudgens continued. I couldn’t find any words, I felt stiff, uncomfortable. I managed a single nod of the head.

‘We have a very strong case against Will Dixon, a case I strongly believe we can win if we have your assistance’ Shane spoke that time, thumbing through the case notes. I spotted my Dads mug shot photo again.

‘What do you want me to do?’

I found my voice, it was rough and surprisingly steady, it echoed around the small room.

‘At the moment, we just need you to answer some questions.'

I hoped the questions would at least start out easy, but they didn’t, and as the questions went on I began to realise that there were no easy questions because there was no easy answers. Nothing about my childhood was easy to talk about, not Dad, not Merle, not Ma.

Rick did a lot of talking for me, about the cuts and the bruises and the first time he met me when I was covered in blood and shaking and he had to sit with me all night in the hospital. He talked about the way I filched at noises and human contact and how the smell of Whiskey made me shake. But Rick couldn’t do all of the talking, because he didn’t know everything, and it wasn’t him they needed to interview. It was me. I had to speak.

‘Could you tell us what it was like growing up with Will as a father?’

Rick couldn’t answer that. I felt my stomach turn and I took a deep breath, trying to think of the right words. ‘He was angry, and drunk, I cant remember a time where he wasn’t one of the two, or both. I didn’t rely on him for anything, for food, clothes, nothing. Had to do it all myself. I wasn’t aloud to wake him up, to talk to much, to eat too much. If I did he would…’
I couldn’t finish. I don’t think I needed too. I don’t think my words painted that much of a picture. Growing up with my Dad was like being in hell. There isn’t a way I would every get anyone to fully understand.

‘Did you find the abuse more physical or verbal?’
‘Both.’
‘Could you give me an example of another time this happened?’

I liked this question least of all.

It happened a lot, it has happened more times than I can count. It happened at least once a month.
I knew what one I should tell them. It was the worst one. Worse than the one that started all of this off.

‘I was 8, and they had just buried my Mom in the church graveyard up my street. When we got home after, he got out the moonshine he’d been making, and starting drinking it. Made me sit there with him while he did. Made me drink, said with Ma gone he would need someone to drink with. When I said I didn’t like it he told me I didn’t have a choice. So I drank it, ‘n I was sick. He just stared at me, for what felt like forever, then started strangling me, telling me I shouldn’t be wasting his ‘shine, and he started hitting me, and shouting and then he pulled his belt off and pinned me down and cut my chest real bad, and it went on for about an hour. He kept drinking, and once he finished hitting me he- he took me arm and-’

My voice caught in my throat as the rest of the memory played out in vivid colour. His breath close on my face, his fingers digging into the cuts on my chest, trying to prise them open more. How he sat me up, rested my left arm on his leg and snapped it like it was a toothpick, laughing as he did it. Telling me I was a pussy, how I deserved it, how no ne was coming to help me because no one gave a shit about redneck trash like me. I screamed, I cried for Ma, for Merle, before remembering that Ma was dead and Merle was locked up. He forced me into the cupboard under the stairs and locked me there for a day, with my arm broken and my cuts open and bleeding. I started breathing faster. This room was too small, it was dark and dingy like that cupboard had been. I gipped the edges of my seat and looked over at Rick with desperation, my breathing continuing to quicken. ‘Daryl it’s okay’ Rick said, reaching out an arm to put around me which I violently flinched away from, my eyes darted back to Shane and Hudgens again, ‘It’s okay son, you don’t have to tell it if you don’t want too, no ones going to hurt you here.’

I felt sick, I was going to be sick. I stood up from my seat and darted to the door of the interview room and yanked at it.

It was locked.

I was trapped.

‘I need to get out’ I murmured, yanking at the handle again. ‘I gotta get out of here.’

I couldn’t breathe, I started clawing at the door and screaming ‘I need to get out, let me out!’ I felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around my torso and I started to struggle, the panic was almost blinding. ‘Let me go! I need to get out! Let me out!’
‘Daryl, its okay, its me, its Rick. The door has an automatic lock system, we’ll open it for you, but you need to calm down. Okay?’
I kept struggling, thrashing out. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think. All I knew is I needed to get out of this room.
‘I want to get out’ I sobbed, reaching out to the door that Rick had dragged me away from. ‘Let me out’ I was crying, shaking and still unable to breath.

The door opened and I made a run for it, pulling myself out of Ricks tight grip. I ran through the waiting room, past the front desk and out the main doors, where I fell to my knees and threw up, sobbing and struggling to breath.

‘Hey, come on, you got to breathe Daryl, you got the breathe. Everything’s okay, no one wants to hurt you, you’re safe here, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want too. Its okay.’

I nodded, his words made sense, but I still couldn’t get my breathing right and I couldn’t stop crying. ‘Deep breathes okay? In through the nose and out through the mouth. You can do it, come on now.’

I tried, my breathing was ragged and caught in my throat I gripped onto Ricks arm and when I did he wrapped his arm around me. ‘That’s good, you’re getting it.’

Shane came outside with a bottle of water, which I took gratefully and gulped it down. My hands were shaking so violently I spilt half the bottle down my front.
But I could breath again, I lent into Rick and closed my eyes tightly, holding back the tears. He ran his fingers gently through my hair and kept telling me that it was okay.

It was all okay.

Chapter Text

GRIMES.

Daryl sat on the couch as I made him a mug of hot chocolate. He was still shaking and he had barely said a word since we got back from the station. He couldn’t finish the interview. He couldn’t go back into that room. Hudgens suggested that he could write it all down for them instead, might make it easier for him if he still wanted to press charges. One good thing did come out of Daryl’s panic attack though, it was very strong evidence against Will Dixon. You had to try and put silver linings on things.

‘How you feeling?’ I asked him as I set the mug of hot chocolate (complete with cream and marshmallows) on the coffee table in front of him. He was covered in a blanket and staring straight ahead at the blank TV screen.

‘M’ fine’ he lied, not looking at me.

‘I’m sorry I convinced you to do that.’

‘You didn’t convince me. I chose to do it. Its not your fault I’m a fucking pussy about it.’

I took in a sharp intake of breath before sitting down on the couch next to him, knowing we would need to have a discussion about this. He shrugged and looked down into his lap, chewing his bottom lip.

‘You’re not being a pussy about it. You’ve been through things that most of us can’t even imagine. You’re the strongest person I have ever met’ and I meant it, I meant every word because I had never known anyone to go through so much and to still be so strong about it.

Daryl just snorted, shaking his head before reaching out for his hot chocolate. ‘I ain’t that strong, Rick. I let it all happen in the first place. If I was strong, I woulda stopped it. I woulda told someone about it before now. I woulda left sooner like Merle did.’

Merle Dixon wasn’t a strong man. Not like Daryl was. From what I knew about Merle he was tough, he was violent, he lacked in morals. He left Daryl on his own with that monster because he was always in trouble, usually drug trouble. He had let Will break him, let himself become more like his Dad. He wasn’t strong at all.
Daryl had fought it. Had done ever since he was born. He was his own man, and a good one at that. Will had done a considerable amount of damage to him, but he hadn’t cracked him like he had with Merle.

‘You’re strong because you stayed you. You’re a good man, you’re not like him. He hasn’t broken you, Daryl.’

Daryl’s shakes got worse and his next words shook as he struggled to keep his voice steady and keep the tears back. ‘You saw what I was like back there. I couldn’t even fucking talk about it, started freaking out like some damn psycho. If that ain’t broken then I don’t know what is.’

‘If he had broken you, you would be like him. But you’re not, you’re such a good person Daryl.’

‘Am I shit. I’m a fucking Dixon. Redneck trash. I’m not even worth you’re fucking time, Grimes.’

I wasn’t having him talk about himself like that. I couldn’t stand it. It made me want to cry, to take him in my arms and never let go because he was worth the world and I wished he could see that, and I wished he knew how much I cared about him, because it was starting to get overwhelming. He was my goddamn world.

‘I don’t care if your last names Dixon or not. Ain’t nothing to be ashamed of. You shouldn’t be ashamed of anything about yourself. I’d give you all of my time, I want to give you all of my time. You’re worth the world, Daryl Dixon.’

There was silence after that, but I don’t think it was the bad kind. He looked at me for a moment with those big blue eyes of his, I could have sworn they flicked down to look at my lips for a second. I took his hand carefully in mine and entwined my fingers with his. He squeezed my hand, a small smile playing on the corners of his chapped, pale lips.

‘I meant every word I said’ I told him. He leaned into me, his head resting on my shoulder, his fingers still linked with mine. I let the butterflies fill my stomach as I ran my thumb over the back of his hand. I wondered if he could ever feel the same.

Chapter Text

DIXON.

It was a Saturday, Rick was working overtime, some jumped-up freak had tried to kill his girlfriend and one of the drug gangs were playing up again. I recognized a few of the names, Martinez was one of them, Merle brought Meth of him from time to time. I didn’t say a word about it to Rick.
He was gone by the time I woke up, his half of the bed was messy and smelt of him. He had taken to sleeping in the bed with me, it’s not like he wouldn’t end up in the bed at some point in the night anyway, the nightmares weren’t easing off. I didn’t mind too much, I secretly loved the fact he had picked up the habit. I didn’t like to think about what Dad or even Merle would do if they knew I was willingly sharing a bed with another man. My stomach twisted every time that came to mind. What if Rick knew I felt the way I did? Would he react the same way as they would? I swallowed it down, it was stupid. Rick could never find out about how he made my stomach flutter or my heart rate speed up. He could never know that his touch was the only touch I welcomed. No one could ever know.

I pulled on one of Ricks plaid shirts and a pair of jeans. They didn’t fit me right, the shirt was too long, the sleeves fell over my hands. His clothes weren’t so loose on me anymore however, I didn’t need the belt to keep the jeans up anymore. I missed my own clothes, I had my angel wing jacket here, and a pair of torn up jeans. The shirt I wore the night I arrived here had to be thrown away, it was too blood stained to save. I knew I needed to go and get some of my clothes at some point, I couldn’t keep wearing Ricks clothes. I should have done it in the three days Dad was in custardy.
Today was as good a day as any to sneak back to the house and stuff a bag full of my clothes. If I timed it right, Dad would be out at a pub somewhere and I would be able to get in and out unnoticed.

I hadn’t told Rick I was planning to go back there, he would worry about it, try to take time of work to come with me, and that wasn’t needed, I was perfectly capable of doing it on my own, I kind of wanted to be alone too.

I left at 2pm, taking nothing with me but a pair of keys to Ricks apartment.

The house was exactly the same as I left it, overgrown front yard littered with empty bottles and an assortment of other trash, the curtains were drawn shut and the roof was missing a few tiles. My stomach churned as I pushed open the creaky gate. I willed myself to keep walking to the front door.
It was locked, and I didn’t have a set of keys.
Typical. Fucking typical.
I hadn’t walked all the way for nothing.
I circled the house, looking for a way to get in. He left the kitchen window open, to my luck.
I prised it open so there was just a big enough gap for me to wriggle in, I had done this before, loads of times.
It was harder than it used to be, I had to twist my body round at an angle and pull myself though. I ended up on the counter, panting slightly and brushing dust off myself.

I left the window open, just in case.

I crept around the house, peering into each room to make sure it was empty. I missed all the creaky stairs and checked Dads room first, which was unoccupied. I let out a sigh I relief.
I headed to my old room, dropping my slow, silent walk when I knew for sure that the house was empty.

My old room looked even more miserable that it did before I left. It had developed a layer of dust that coated the floor and the bed sheets and the top of my dresser. A slither of sunlight made its way through a gap in the closed curtains, illuminating the dust that floated in the air.
I stood in the doorway for a moment, taking it all in.
I didn’t own many clothes, and they were all Merle’s hand-me-downs. I filled a rucksack up with shirts and jeans, and most importantly, underwear. I had been wearing Ricks for weeks now. Once I had cleared my dresser of all the clothes worth taking I got ready to leave. I had nothing else to take, I didn’t own anything else. I wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible.

Just as I was standing up and swinging the bag onto my back, I heard the front door open.
My heart leaped into my throat and I froze on the spot.

Heavy footsteps trudged around the downstairs, my heart started to beat faster. I looked around my bedroom for an escape route. It was a two-story fall if I were to try and get out my window, I could maybe make it without a busted ankle.
The footsteps headed up the stairs.
I had to get out, and it had to be the window, I took a few quick steps towards it, I wasn’t thinking and I stood right on a creaky floorboard.
I stopped dead, my breathing ragged and shallow.

The footsteps stopped too.

I was scared to take another step forward, in case another floorboard creaked.
The footsteps started again, I shook myself and kept moving towards the window.
It was locked, I pushed against it but to no avail.

My bedroom door opened.

‘Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.’

My heart skipped a beat, because that wasn’t Dad’s voice.
‘Merle’ I breathed. I had never been so happy to see him, tall, broad shouldered and narrowed eyed. I couldn’t help myself, I almost ran over to him as I wrapped my arms around his chest. He smelt of sweat and cigarettes and in that moment I couldn’t get enough of it.

‘Easy there Darlina’ he said gruffly, but he hugged me back all the same.

‘How long have you ben back?’ I asked, pulling away from him.
‘Bout a week now, you wanna tell me where the hell you’ve been?’
I felt my breath catch in my throat. I didn’t want to tell him where I had been, I couldn’t. I didn’t even want to tell him why.
‘Couldn’t stay here anymore, been staying at a friends place.’
Simple, to the point and I didn’t even have to lie to him.
He took a step back and looked me up and down, I felt extremely uncomfortable all of a sudden.
‘Who’s the friend?’
My palms started to sweat, I rubbed them on my jeans.
‘You wouldn’t know him.’
‘Try me.’
I swallowed. ‘Name’s Rick, he’s got a place uptown.’

Merle paused, a slightly amused look playing at his features. He looked me up and down again and snorted. ‘So what, you this guys overfed housecat now?’

I felt like I had been punched in the gut. I couldn’t stop my eyes from wondering down to look at myself. Sure, Rick’s shirts weren’t so loose fitting on me anymore, and I was eating three square meals a day, which is something I hadn’t ever done before…
I pulled my eyes up to look back at Merle, wrapping my arms around my middle. My cheeks were flushed red and I shuffled my weight from one foot to the other.
I imagined what Dad would say about it, what Dad would do about it.

I swallowed hard.

‘So you think this Rick guy would mind if you spent the night with your big brother?’
I didn’t want too, I wanted to go back to Ricks, put on a film and listen to him chatter on about his day. I hadn’t told him I was going out, and if I wasn’t there when he got back he would panic, I knew that. ‘I can’t tonight I-’
‘What, you his bitch as well?’
Anger flared through me and I snarled at him. ‘I ain’t nobody’s bitch.’
‘Good, now lets go lil’ brother, told Martinez I’d meet him at three.’

He left, and reluctantly, I followed.

*

We met them in a shack of a house a few blocks down from Dads place. There was a rusty truck parked in the front and two motorbikes, one of which was Merles. I had always liked it, I couldn’t help myself running my fingers over the seat as I walked past it.

Martinez was sitting on a threadbare coach in the dimly lit living room that smelled of damp and stale cigarettes, his eyes were wide, his pupils dilated. I didn’t usually mind Martinez much, not when he was sober anyway, it was the rest of them that made my skin crawl. I didn’t know the names to most of them, I never bothered to learn, but they were all big and dirty with sunken eyes and a mean look. They greeted Merle by clapping him on the back and offering him a beer, and a dirty looking meth pipe. They greeted me in a similar fashion, the claps on the back made me flinch and shake and I took the beer and shook my head at the pipe they offered. I saw a bottle of Dad’s favourite whiskey in the corner, one of the bigger guys picked it up and took a swig of it. I felt sick. I gripped the beer tighter to stop my hands from visibly shaking.

‘Common lil’ bother, sit down, relax!’ Merle said, sitting down next to Martinez and patting the space on the coach next to him. I crossed the room on my legs that felt like they had turned to jelly and gingerly sat next to Merle, who clasped his beer in one hand and his glass pipe in the other. ‘Have a hit?’ he offered, thrusting the pipe in my face. I shook my head and took a swig of my beer, it was cheap and warm and didn’t make me feel any better. ‘Whats got your panties in a bunch Darlina?’ he asked, his voice edged with annoyance.
I glared at him. ‘Nothing, just don’t want any.’
‘You’re a pussy, lil’ brother, anyone ever told you that?’

I took another swig of my warm beer, trying to ignore him and the smell of the smoke trailing out of the end of Merles pipe.
The hours passed slowly, I drank warm beer after warm beer to try and calm myself as I watched their pupils blow wide and the voices get louder and more aggressive. I heard a fight break out between two guys in the kitchen, a few crashes and a cheer of around three people. I downed the rest of my beer and squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I was back at Ricks apartment. He would finish work soon, he would go back to find the apartment empty. Would he be worried? Or would he be glad that I had left?

The room felt blurry, my brain was struggling to process things. How many beers had I had? I lost count. I downed the rest of the bottle and put it down on the floor by the side of the couch. Merle was talking loudly, angrily, some guy at the other side of the room was glaring at him. I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I looked around the room, could I slip out unnoticed and go back to Ricks? My heart rate was speeding up and I was struggling to keep my breathing steady.
I heard a crash from the kitchen and more yelling. But this time the yelling was loud enough to make Martinez stand up in panic. I heard a familiar voice, I couldn’t remember where I had heard it before. I stayed sat in the corner while Merle stood up next to Martinez.

‘Get on your knees! Put your hands where I can see them!’ the voice I recognised yelled. A man in a cop uniform burst into the living room, he had his gun out. It was Shane, he was Ricks partner. Rick came bursting in behind him and I felt vomit creep up my throat. He had his gun drawn too, he was pointing it at Merle, who glared at him, but got down on his knees and put his hands up all the same. He looked right at me, and it seemed like it took his brain a second to register that it was actually me. His face dropped, he looked hurt, he looked disappointed. I struggled to swallow down my vomit. His face soon hardened again. ‘On your knees’ he growled at me. I did as I was told.

Two other officers joined them, guns out, watching as Rick searched us one by one. Scowling as he found sealed bag of meth and coke and numerous other drugs that I couldn’t name on Martinez and Merle and the others. He searched me, he was rough, it hurt and I was shaking like a damn purse dog because I didn’t want Rick to ever hurt me. I didn’t think he ever would. I was clean, I was drunk, but clean. I was the only one in the room who was drug free. It didn’t seem to make a difference to Rick, however. He grabbed me by my shirt and yanked me onto my feet, my legs gave out and I yelped at his touch. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Shane pull Merle up. ‘Common.’ Rick scowled at he, pushing me roughly towards the door, his fingers digging into my shoulder. I was panicking, my breath was coming out in shakes, my stomach turned and twisted. I couldn’t help myself, I retched and fell to my knees and my stomach emptied itself, vomit splattering over the rotting wooden floor. Whether it was the beer or the anxiety, I wasn’t sure, but I kept retching all the same. Rick waited till I was finished, his arms crossed, he face still set. Once I was up on my feet again he regained his grip on my shoulder, although it was noticeably not as tight this time, and he marched me out the house to his car.

‘Get in’ he snapped, opening the back door and gesturing for me to sit. I felt my eyes wonder over to the police van, where Shane was forcing Merle in. ‘Aren’t I supposed to go in there?’ I asked, my voice shaking.
‘Do you want to go in there?’ Rick asked impatiently. I shook my head quickly.
‘Then get in’ he demanded. Once again, I did as I was told.

The ride to the station was long and silent. Rick drove, Shane sat in the front next to him. Neither of them spoke. I sat in the back seat, my eyes fixed on my lap, focusing on not throwing up again. I think the only thing that could make my situation worse was throwing up in the back of Ricks cop car.

When we pulled up at the station, Rick got out the car and yanked open my door. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t even look at me. I slid out the car and he took me by the shoulder again and steered me into the station. He sat me in a room similar to the one where I had to tell Shane and Hudgens about my Dad. I felt my breath catch in my throat as he shut the door, locking me in.

‘Did you take anything?’ he asked me, still standing by the closed door.

I shook my head.

‘Why don’t I believe you?’ He asked, taking a few steps over to me, which made me flitch. ‘I didn’t, I swear!’ I pleaded. I was struggling to breath now. My eyes darted around the room, there was no way out, I was trapped. My stomach turned over again. ‘I didn’t take anything, I said no, I told Merle no!’ my eyes were wet and hot and I felt pathetic and terrified. I didn’t want Rick to hurt me, and I told him that, I felt the words slip out of my mouth without me meaning to. I repeated it, my words shaking almost as much as my body. I couldn’t look at him, I couldn’t bring myself too. I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the first blow.

It never came.

Instead I heard him sigh. ‘I’m not going to hurt you Daryl.’
I threw up again, it hit the pristine floor with a spatter and I sobbed, pulling at my hair with my shaking fingers.

‘I promise, I’m never going to hurt you.’

Chapter Text

GRIMES.

I took Daryl home after he was sick again, half of me was angry, because I trusted him, and he snuck off with his brother and we found him in a drug den, and Shane gave me a look that practically screamed ‘I told you so.’ He didn’t even tell me he was going out. Had he does this before? One glance at his pale, clammy face told me he hadn’t. The other part of me felt guilty, I felt sick to my stomach with guilt because he looked at me with pure fear at the station, he looked at me as if I was Will Dixon. I never wanted him to look at me like that again. But right now he wasn’t even meeting my eye.

I parked my car in the usual place and Daryl quickly let himself out, his shaking hands clutching the rucksack he had on him when we found him. My stomach turned with guilt when he flinched at the sound of the car door closing. He trudged along behind me as we headed in silence up to my apartment, his head hanging in shame like a naughty schoolboy. I needed to swallow my anger, because anger wouldn’t solve this, it would scare him even more and push him away. I had to be calm, I had to talk to him about it and I had to say sorry for scaring him. I had to get him to open back up.

He sat awkwardly at the kitchen table when we got in. He perched on the edge and gripped the sides of his chair until his knuckles turned white. I sat in the chair opposite him, resting my arms on the table and thinking of the right thing to say.
To my surprise it was Daryl that spoke first.
‘I’m really sorry.’
It was barely more than a whisper, he was shaking and still not looking up at me.
‘I fucked up, I know I did, and I didn’t mean to, I didn’t wanna be there, I swear I-’

‘Daryl’ I cut him off, because he was rambling and his breathing was speeding up, last thing we needed was for him to have another panic attack.
‘Daryl, it’s okay. Its okay’ I told him, shuffling my chair around so it was closer to him, he jumped a little at the sound of the chair scrapping over the lino.
‘it ain’t okay, you trusted me n’ I fucked up, I told you, I’m scum, I told you.’
His voice was shaking, I think he was crying but I couldn’t tell because his hair was hanging in front of his eyes.

‘But you didn’t take anything’ I said, because that’s what he told me and I believed him. ‘I didn’t take anything’ he agreed. ‘I went to Dad’s place to get some clothes, and Merle was there, and he told me to go see his friends with him and I tried to get out of it, I didn’t want to go, I wanted to come back here.’ Daryl’s breathing was shallow and I was positive he was crying now.

I sat quietly for a moment, watching him as he shakes were beginning to become uncontrollable. I believed him, I trusted him. His rucksack had been full of clothes, he hadn’t taken anything, sure he was pretty drunk, but it was nothing serious. I trusted him.

‘You’re not scum Daryl’ I told him, reaching out to touch his hand. He looked up at my touch, but to my relief he didn’t flitch away. ‘I believe you. I’m not angry. And I’m sorry I was angry, back at the house, and the station. But I’m not angry anymore. And I never want to hurt you Daryl. I promise.’
My fingers entwined with his and I ran my thumb over the back of his hand.

‘What’s going to happen to Merle?’ he asked me, not looking me in the eyes and gnawing on the side of his thumb.
I sighed and the question and squeezed his hand slightly. ‘I don’t know’ I told him, and that was near enough the truth. I took Daryl away from the station as soon as I could, I didn’t linger around to see Merle. My guess was he was going to go back to prison, with the amount of meth he had on him, but I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t want Daryl having that on his mind right now.

‘He’d kill me if he found out I was here’ Daryl said quietly.

‘He’d have to go through me first’ I said, and I put my arm around him. I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do, but he leaned into me and rested his head in the crook of my neck, and my heart fluttered, any anger I had left at him left me as he squeezed my hand tightly.

‘He’d kill me if he knew I was doing this’ Daryl said and he smiled slightly. He sat up and looked at me, and I was so relived that he was, he hadn’t looked at me properly since I found him with Merle. I missed those ice blue eyes of his. I was sure I saw his eyes flicker down to look at my lips. His face was close to mine now, he smelt of sweat and smoke and alcohol and that slightly musty smell that he always smelt like, I felt my heart pick up pace. He was drunk still, I could see it in his eyes, but I could also see something else, could it be longing? I ran my fingers through his messy hair and he closed his eyes and smiled with pleasure. I felt his hand on my knee. I felt a slight twitch in-between my legs.
His eyes snapped open suddenly and he hiccupped. ‘I’m sorry’ he muttered, pulling away from me and removing his hand from my knee. He had gone bright red and had started to shake. ‘I’m sorry, its wrong I know and I’ll leave if you want, I mean I understand if you don’t-’

I couldn’t help myself. My lips pressed against his and I kissed him. It was quick, barely more than a peck, but it was a kiss all the same.
When I pulled away he just sat there staring at me in disbelief, wide-eyed and unmoving. I felt a knot in my stomach, what if he didn’t want me to do that? What if I had just fucked up and ruined everything and he left? What the hell was I thinking?

‘What was that?’ he asked me, dumbfounded.

‘A kiss?’ I answered, feeling extremely sheepish. It was my turn to start blushing now.
‘Why?’ he asked, if possible his eyes were even wider than before.
‘Because… because I love you’ I told him. I don’t know why I told him, because if the kiss hadn’t fucked everything up than surely this would. But it was true, I loved him. I knew that now.

He kept on staring at me like I was some kind of alien. It seemed to last a lifetime, the staring and the silence. I felt my heart thudding hard against my chest.
‘Why?’ he eventually asked, he looked more confused now that shocked. He seemed unsatisfied with his own question and looked like he was searching for something better to ask. ‘W-Why?’ he asked again, settling for his original question.
‘Because you’re amazing, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, I love you.’
He dropped his stare, looking down at his knees and he shook his head. ‘No you don’t’ he said, almost bitterly. ‘You don’t, no one does.’
‘I do! I-’
‘Save it!’ he snapped, looking up at me, eyes filled with anger, with pain. ‘I get it okay, I fucked up today, you don’t have to, to screw with me like this! If you want to hurt me, just swing at me or something, I don’t give a shit, but not this.’ He stood up, he chair scrapping back across the lino as he did so. ‘I’ll go if you want’ he said, as he crossed the kitchenette and headed for the door.
‘No don’t go’ I said, desperately, standing up and following him. ‘I’m not trying to fuck with you Daryl, I’m not trying to hurt you. I really do love you.’
I reached down and gripped his hand, my other hand brushed his hair out of his bloodshot eyes that were filling up once again with tears.
‘But I’m a Dixon’ he said in disbelief. ‘No one loves Dixons.’
‘Well I do. I Love you, Daryl Dixon. I love you more than anything.’

I kissed him again, wrapping him in my arms and holding him close. This time however, he kissed me back.

Chapter Text

DIXON.

My head was pounding.

I lay in bed with my eyes squeezed shut, listening to the birds tweeting outside and Rick moving around in the sheets next to me.

How my Dad drank as much as he did was a mystery to me. I couldn’t even imagine why anyone would want to wake up feeling this bad everyday.
‘The best cure for a hangover is more alcohol’ Merle always used to say. It was just his excuse for drinking vodka at 10am on a Monday.
The thought of anymore alcohol right now made my stomach turn.

I thought back to last night. Rick kissed me, Rick told me he loved me. It made my head pound even more. How could he love me? I fucked up everything yesterday. I was a drunken, panicky, embarrassing mess. I was a Dixon. I was covered in ugly scars and I was terrified of loud noises and strange men and unwanted hands coming anywhere near me. I was damaged goods. I was a train wreck. He had to be insane to love me, he was just delusional, he would snap out of it soon, he would start to see me the same as the rest of the world did. Redneck Trash. It was just a matter of time.

I heard him sit up next to me and yawn. I kept my eyes shut, I didn’t want him to know I was awake. He would regret what he did yesterday, he would realize it was a mistake. Maybe I could just pretend that I had been too drunk to remember anything, it might make it easier on both of us.
I felt his fingers brush my greasy hair to the side and he planted a soft kiss on my forehead. It tingled and my empty stomach erupted with butterflies. He left the bed and I heard him make for the kitchen.

He had been gone for at least five minuets before I could bring myself to open my eyes and sit up slightly, staring at the half open door. He had kissed me again. Okay, so it wasn’t on the lips, but it was a kiss. What was he doing? Why didn’t he understand that I was a mess? Why the hell did he want to do this?
I slumped back down into the pillow and groaned, rubbing my forehead in frustration. I didn’t understand him. I didn’t understand what he could possibly see in me.

‘Morning sunshine’

I jumped at his voice and sat up quickly, making my head pound and my stomach turn. ‘Sorry’ he said sheepishly, realizing he had startled me. I loved the way he looked in the morning, hair all messed up from sleep, his features always seemed more relaxed, less stressed out like he looked after a days work. He was always warm and he felt safe. I couldn’t stop myself from grinning at him like an idiot.

‘How’s the hangover?’ he asked, leaning against the doorframe. The smell coming from the kitchen was incredible. ‘Had worse’ I said, and it wasn’t a lie, I took a few lines of coke from Merle once when I was about 15, the comedown seemed to last forever, it was horrible. I wasn’t going to tell Rick that though.
‘Well, the best cure for a hangover is a full English breakfast. Protein helps the hangover.’
Different view than Merle, but I liked the thought of food better than more alcohol right now. My mouth watered at the thought of it, the smell wasn’t helping matters much either. I had never had an English breakfast before, and Rick was a great cook. It smelt heavenly.

‘You this guys overfed housecat now?’
Merles words echoed through my brain. I felt the blood rush to my face and I dropped my gaze down to look at my stomach that was hidden by the shirt I wore to bed. I swallowed hard and wrapped my arms around my middle, pitching roughly at my side that had started to soften ever so slightly. Breakfast didn’t sound so appealing all of a sudden.

I sat at the kitchen table as Rick dished up breakfast. The smell of fried bacon and sausages was overwhelming and made my mouth water and my stomach growl. I pinched at my side again as it did, I wished it would just shut up. Rick placed my plate in front of me. I looked down at it for a moment, it looked big, it looked amazing. I looked over at Rick who smiled at me as he started digging in to his own breakfast.
I couldn’t eat it. I just couldn’t. Not after what Merle said, not after what Rick said last night, about loving me, because I wasn’t anywhere near good enough for him as it was, I couldn’t go and make that worse. I didn’t want to be soft.
‘Eat something, it’ll help’ Rick said, watching as I stared at my plate. I nodded without really paying him much attention. I took the knife and fork and gripped them a little too tightly, and taking a deep breath, I started to cut up one of the sausages.
Fuck my Dad for making me think like this, Fuck Merle for putting the thought back in my head and Fuck Rick for loving me, or just telling me he does because there’s no way on earth he could love a fuck up like me. I forced myself to eat, because Dad and Merle only said those things to screw with me, and I shouldn’t have to listen to them, I was being a damn pussy about it. Everyone needed to eat, even me. I managed a few mouthfuls before Dads voice returned, louder than Merles had been. ‘You’ll get fat, soft, is that what you want?’
I fought the urge to vomit and placed my knife and fork back down. Rick was looking at me, face full of concern. I couldn’t meet his gaze, it felt like the longer he looked at me, the sooner he would realize that everything Dad said about me, eating too much, being useless, being a pussy, and everything I’m sure Shane had said about me being a worthless Dixon, was true.
He couldn’t love me, and if he really, really, did, he would soon realize I wasn’t worth it, he would soon snap back to sanity.

‘Aren’t you hungry?’ he asked me. I shook my head. I couldn’t eat anything more, not now.
‘Do you feel sick?’ he asked, I nodded, and it wasn’t a lie either, the more I thought about Rick, and love and all that other mess of emotions, the sicker I felt.
‘Hey’ he said, and I couldn’t stop myself from looking up at him, he looked worried, his eyes surveying me carefully, his mouth turned up in a tired but genuine smile.
‘Are you okay, with, you know, what happened last night?’
I felt my stomach clench up, I dropped my gaze immediately and started gnawing on the side of my thumb. I couldn’t bring myself to respond. Because what was I supposed to say? Yes, I am okay with it, in fact I’m more than okay, I love you too Rick, but I don’t know why you love me and anyway soon you’re going to realize I’m worthless and you’ll leave and I don’t want to go through that, God I really don’t.
I just kept my mouth shut and my gaze downcast.
‘Its okay if you’re not okay with it. If you want me to back off, just say, I understand.’
I looked up at him at that, my eyes narrowing. Was he fucking around with me or was he just being dumb? Of course I didn’t want him to back off, he was the best thing that was ever going to happen to me, I didn’t deserve him, I didn’t even deserve to know him, let alone this. I didn’t want to get hurt, but I didn’t want to tell him that, because I didn’t want to sound like a pussy. Dixons didn’t get hurt.
I had to say something though, because I couldn’t bare the look of concern and anxiety flooding Ricks face right now.
‘I’m okay with it’ I told him simply.
‘Are you sure?’ he didn’t look anymore relaxed at my answer.
I nodded. Still no change in his facial expressions.
‘Then was wrong? What’s bothering you?’
‘Nothing’ I said shortly, dropping my eye contact again. I hated that I was the reason he looked like that.
‘Daryl’ Rick sighed. He knew I was lying, he saw right though me. I didn’t know if I hated the fact he could do that or not, it was unnerving but strangely comforting.
‘You can’t love me.’

I couldn’t stop myself from saying it, the words just blurted out.
He looked shocked, he looked hurt. I felt guilt erupt in my stomach. ‘M’ sorry’ I muttered, hanging my head.
‘Don’t say sorry, why can’t I love you?’ he asked, his voice was soft, gentle. I felt my guilt ease a little.
‘Because you just can’t. It won’t end well, I’m a fuck up, I don’t know what I’m doing, I’ve never, never, been with anyone before, I wont be able to make you happy, I’ll fuck it up. I know I will.’

The silence in the room was heavy, I felt my breath catch in my chest. He was staring at me, I couldn’t looked at him, all I could do was chew at the side of my thumb, which I was sure was bleeding.

I heard his chair scrap back and I looked up at his quickly, he walked around the table till he was standing right in front of me, he bent down slightly, his hand under my chin, gently tilting my face up towards his. He kissed me, slowly, softly. I closed my eyes and kissed him back, savouring the way he stroked my hair as his lips pressed against mine. I felt myself grow calm, I leant into him, not wanting the kiss to end.
He pulled back from me a tiny bit, and rubbed his noise against mine, smiling, I couldn’t help but smile back. He kissed my nose, then brushed my hair off my forehead and kissed that. He cupped my face in his hands, I looked up into his eyes, they looked like oceans, blue and sparkling and beautiful.

‘You make me so happy, and I love you, I will love you forever, no matter what.’

‘I love you too.’ I said it, and I meant it. I’d never said those words before, they sounded almost alien coming from me, they didn’t belong to my voice. But Rick’s face lit up and his smile could have split his face in half, the kiss that followed was even better than the last.

Chapter Text

GRIMES.

‘I was wondering if you want to go get a coffee later? See Glenn?’ I asked, watching as Daryl flicked mindlessly through the TV channels trying to find something that interested him. I figured it would be good to keep him busy, I didn’t want him thinking too much about Merle.
‘Sounds good to me, ain’t seen him in a while’ Daryl said, not taking his eyes off the television screen.

‘Before we go, we got to stop over at Carols’ I told him. ‘You gotta have your stitches taken out.’

Daryl snapped round to look at me, eyes full of alarm, like the idea of getting his stitches taken out terrified him, which didn’t make sense cause this was the least painful bit, and anyway Daryl had never been to fussed by pain.
‘Already?’ he asked me.
‘Yeah, thought you’d prefer Carol to do it instead of going down to the hospital.’

He seemed to turn pale, he nodded, chewing on the side of his thumb like he did when he was nervous, or uncomfortable. I sighed, I had obviously missed something, Daryl was so difficult to read sometimes.

‘What is it?’ I asked, making my way over to the couch and sitting down next to him. ‘Huh?’ he was playing dumb, pretending he didn’t know what I was talking about so I would change the subject and he wouldn’t have to talk about it. I wasn’t falling for it.
‘Common, I ain’t stupid.’
The corner of his lips twitched up at this. ‘Could’a fooled me.’
I grinned and gave him a playful nudge, ‘shouldn’t be rude to a cop’ I told him. ‘Sorry Officer’ he scoffed. I couldn’t help myself from reaching out and running my fingers through his hair. He had washed it that morning, so it was soft, almost fluffy, I would have told him how cute it made him look, but I don’t think Daryl was the kind of guy who would really appreciate being called ‘cute’.

‘Seriously though, what’s wrong?’ I asked him, forcing myself to be serious once again. The playful smile dropped off of his face and he went back to chewing his thumb. I felt a pang of guilt in my stomach, but I needed to get it out of him, he needed to start talking about all this stuff more, stop bottling it up.
‘Just… it’s just something Merle said. Ain’t nothing important’ Daryl shrugged, refusing to meet my eye. My stomach dropped a little, if Merle said it then chances are it wasn’t good, Daryl let people into his head too easily. He would take in every little criticism, every bad comment, nothing was taken lightly with him. ‘What’d he say?’ I asked, taking his hand in mine.

Daryl’s cheeks had started to tinge red. ‘He said, well, basically he said that I had… I had gotten soft.’
I stared at him as he turned scarlet, his pulled his hand out of mine and rubbed his forehead.

‘Fat.’ He spat the word out like it was poison.

I felt anger bubble up in my chest. I couldn’t stand it, the shame rolled of Daryl in thick waves, making me feel sick. I wanted to hurt Merle Dixon, I wanted to hurt Will Dixon, I wanted to make Daryl see what I saw when I looked at him.
Daryl had wrapped his arms tightly around his midsection, I saw how his fingers were pitching roughly at his sides. The look on his face was a mixture of disgust and shame. Self-hatred, he hated himself because of what they said, what they did to him.

‘You are not fat, Daryl, not in the slightest.’

Daryl scoffed, shaking his head. He didn’t believe me one bit, he was more than capable of believing all the shit that people told him, but being complimented was something else all together. He just refused to believe it, and it broke my heart.
‘You can say it you know, you don’t gotta lie to me. I know I’ve been eating too much, and I’ve gotten lazy, I’ve gotten weak. I know I have, and I’ll sort it out.’
He looked so young, so venerable, his arms wrapped around himself and his cheeks red and I noticed he seemed to be biting the insides of them, as if he was trying to make his face look slimmer.
He wasn’t as skinny as he was when he first moved in, he had filled out a little, got himself a little bit of padding. He looked healthy, he looked alive and I loved it.
‘Daryl’ I said, but he didn’t look up at me, he couldn’t seem to bring himself to meet my eyes. ‘Hey’ I touched his hand, prising his fingers away from his side that he was pinching at. He looked up at me, his eyes big and wet, I pretended not to notice, just to spare him some pride. ‘You haven’t been eating too much.’
He opened his mouth, looking ready to protest, but I silenced him with a swift kiss. ‘You’re amazing just the way you are. You might not agree, but I know what I see when I look at you, and it’s amazing. So you just take whatever Merle told you and forget about it okay? You’re better than that. You don’t gotta listen to everything he tells you, cause it ain’t all true.’

Daryl sighed and rested his head on my shoulder, his hair hanging in front of his face. ‘Dunno what you see in me, Officer’ he mumbled miserably, burying his face into the crook of my neck.
‘I see you, exactly how you are. And I wouldn’t change you for anything.’

He kissed me then, quick and shy, before burying his face back into my neck.

*

Sofia sat on Daryl’s lap as Carol picked the stiches out of his back, they should have been done a week or so ago, but Carol thought it would be easier if she unpicked the stitches from his back at the same time as she unpicked the stitches from his stomach to save him to pain and stress of it. I couldn’t help but agree with her, especially after what Daryl had told me earlier that morning, he was reluctant enough to get his shirt off once, let alone a second time.

Daryl was uncomfortable, he had had his arms wrapped protectively over himself until Sofia took it upon herself to sit on his to distract him, she was doing a good job too, Daryl seemed to enjoy her company as she sat there, talking about her toys and braiding Daryl’s hair.

‘What’s your favourite toy Daryl?’ she asked him, adding a second braid to his fringe. ‘I never really had any’ he admitted, running his hands through her soft blonde hair. Sofia looked shocked, as though the idea of someone never having a toy was unspeakable. ‘You never had a toy?’ she asked, looking up at him, her big blue eyes wide open. ‘Nuh-huh’ Daryl said, shaking his head, winching in pain and Carol pulled the thread out of his back. ‘That’s very sad’ Sofia said, his mouth turning into a little frown. ‘Wait here’ she told him, and hopped down from his lap before running off into her bedroom.

She returned with a battered looking ragdoll with woollen hair and buttons for eyes. ‘Its for you!’ she said excitedly, holding it up in front of Daryl. ‘Sorry it’s not a boys toy, I don’t have any of them.’
It was now Daryl’s turn to look shocked. ‘I can’t take your doll!’ he said, ‘It’s yours.’
‘It’s a present to you!’ Sofia insisted stubbornly. I saw Carol smile slightly, I knew where Sofia got her stubbornness from. ‘You have to take a present!’

I watched as Daryl hesitated, before reaching out and taking the doll, he stared at it for a moment, before sitting the doll on his lap. ‘Thank you’ he said, his voice thick, Sofia clambered back onto his lap and wrapped her little arms around his neck in a hug.

‘Well, everything healed up nicely’ Carol announced when she had finished taking out the last of the stitching on Daryl’s stomach. ‘Although I hate to say it, you’ve scarred quite badly.’

I felt a pang of sadness in my chest as Daryl blushed slightly, his eyes seemed wet. He pulled on his shirt quickly and mumbled his thanks to Carol. ‘Anytime, Pookie’ she smiled, and pulled him into a hug, planting a gentle kiss on his forehead, ‘anytime.’

Chapter Text

DIXON.

Seeing Glenn was like taking a breath of fresh air. He took his break when we walked into the little coffee shop, and he and his new girlfriend Maggie sat with us and chatted, about work and school and TV shows. It was nice to talk about this stuff for once, instead of my Dad, or my scars or my ‘food issues’ as Rick had put it once. I was sure Glenn and Maggie didn’t know any of that stuff, and if they did, they didn’t talk about it, they didn’t even give me that sympathetic side-glance people give me when they think I’m not looking. Being talked too and treated like a normal human being was so goddamn refreshing it almost made me forget about all the crap that had happened to me, even if it was just for a moment.

I especially enjoyed Maggie’s company, she had started spending time with me at school, as she was in my year and Beth’s older sister. I sat with them and their friends Aaron, and Sasha and Tyreese who were twins, at lunch, which made a nice change from sitting alone in the library willing the day to pass by faster.

Glenn made me laugh so hard at one point that coffee actually came out of my nose, sending everyone into hysterics. I loved the look on Ricks face when he saw me happy, he looked relaxed, care free even. His blue eyes bright and full of laughter as his passed me a napkin to clean the coffee off my face. I had felt like a burden to him, a weight that dragged him down, a problem he couldn’t quite handle, but when I saw his face like that, I knew I was more to him than just another good deed he felt the need to do. Feeling wanted, feeling loved, was something I couldn’t get enough of. I never knew it until I met Rick, until Glenn’s face split into a smile everything I walked into the shop and Maggie and Beth would hug me hello in the morning before class started, until Aaron waited for me outside my classroom because he had something he wanted to talk to me about in between class or Sasha and Tyreese shouted my name across the cafeteria and beckoned me over to sit with them. I was important to these people, god knows why.

I had a family, for the first time in my life, I was part of something important, and I was loved, they wanted me around.
Being wanted was a feeling I never wanted to go away.

Especially the feeling of being wanted by Rick Grimes.

After coffee, Glenn and Maggie got back to work, and Rick drove us back to his place, where we sat on his crummy little balcony on white plastic lawn chairs, I smoked, he talked, and we watched as the sun started to slowly sink down under the skyline of Atlantic city which could be seen in the distance. I liked living outside of the city, the city was too busy, filled with busy people who would push past you and cars horns and engines chugging. It was quieter here; there were woodland and small houses and dirt-track roads that seemed to go on for miles. Sitting up here with Rick, watching over it all and only hearing the sound of distant crickets was one of the best things I could possibly imagine. I was content, I was safe. No one could hurt me way up here with Rick at my side. I might well have been invincible.

I turned to look at Rick, to take in his features. He grinned at me, leaning forwards a little and brushing a stray strand of my hair out of my face. He kissed me then, it was passionate, I felt my face heat up and a twitch in between my legs. I must have tasted like an ash tray, and Rick didn’t smoke, but it didn’t seem to bother him at all, he ran one hand through my hair while pulling me closer to him with the other hand, our bodies met and I suddenly wished we weren’t blocked by a layer of fabric.
His lips parted from mine, he looked at me, with what was undoubtedly lust in his eyes. ‘Do you want to take this inside?’ he asked me, his voice hushed. I felt my stomach clench with nerves, I had never done anything like this before, what if I messed it up? What if Rick saw my body and didn’t want me anymore?
I pushed these thoughts away. It was time for me to stop being such a pussy about all this.
‘Yes’ I said, giving him another kiss. He gave me a cheeky grin before standing up and leading me towards the bedroom.

Chapter Text

GRIMES

It was hot, sweaty. I pulled him down onto the bed with me and continued to kiss him, moving from his lips down to his neck, to his collarbone. My lips met a scar on his chest, and I unbuttoned his shirt so I could plant butterfly kisses along it. He grunted, running his hands through my hair now, pulling me closer to him.

I leant back slightly as I removed his shirt, slipping it gently over his scarred shoulders. His breath hitched in his throat as the fabric of his shirt fell silently to the floor. ‘Is this okay?’ I asked him, running a hand up his chest. He nodded.

‘Yeah, don’t stop.’

I grinned and pulled my own shirt off before pulling him back in, pressing my body against his.
I ran my fingers down his back as my mouth made its way down his chest, past his belly button and scars that riddled his stomach and to the waistline of his jeans. He gasped, the crotch of his jeans bulged and I slid one of my hands down the front of his jeans, undoing the zipper with the other.

‘I want to make you feel good.’ I told him.
‘Well Officer, you’re doing a good job’ he replied in a hushed, breathy voice.

I gave him a devious grin before sliding his boxers down and planting kisses everywhere.
it wasn’t long before the kisses became something more.

*

The next morning I was awoken by the sunlight spilling through the open curtains. Daryl was sleeping next to me, our clothes were discarded on the floor and I couldn’t help be smile like an idiot at the memories of last night. His soft moans, the way he breathed out my name and gripped onto me like I was a life source. I shuddered with pleasure at the thought, not being able to help the fact that I was hard again.

I didn’t think I could feel like this again, not since I lost Lori. I didn’t think I could ever be in love again.
But looking at Daryl now, the way his face looked so at peace when he slept, the way he had kissed me last night, everything from his weird quirks and his beautiful face and personality made me giddy, ecstatic.
He was everything I needed, and I would do anything to make him feel as happy as he made me.