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Rick watched the man finally crumple to the ground, blood pouring out of a wound on his chest, staining the wooden floor he landed on.
The officer standing beside Rick lowered her gun and let out a shaking breath. She was young, probably hadn’t been on the force long. He had only seen her around a few times.
For a moment, nobody moved and then the paramedics all rushed inside the bar to the man and his victims.
Rick holstered his gun and approached the woman and gently took the gun from her shaking hands, handing it off to another officer behind him. “Chambler, isn’t it?”
“Yeah." She licked her lips. "Tara.”
“First time?” he asked cautiously.
“Yeah.”
"You did well, saved a lot of people," Rick assured her, seeing the darkness begin to show in her eyes, one he knew well. "If you need to talk to anyone, you know where I am."
Tara looked up at him and smiled, unsure. “Uh, thanks.”
Rick saw Abe coming through the door, being called about the hold up and he stepped back to let him speak with Tara.
Instead, he found Shane on the other side of the bar. “You okay, brother?” Rick asked, patting his back, he had seen some bullets fly towards Shane but thankfully it looked like he avoided them. He just had a few cuts on his face from the debris and wood from the bar.
“Better than fine, another piece of shit that can’t hurt anyone else,” Shane said with a smirk.
Rick rolled his eyes at his partner and focused on the officer digging through the man’s pockets. “What’s his name?” Rick asked when they pulled out a wallet.
“Uh, William Dixon.”
“Dixon,” Shane repeated thoughtfully. “Ain’t there a Dixon we’ve arrested a bunch of times?”
Rick nodded, recognising the name. “Yeah, he owns that bar… Uh ASZ?”
“You know his next of kin?” Abe, their superior asked from where he stood with Tara.
“Not sure if it’s his next of kin, sir,” Rick admitted, “but we know another Dixon.”
“Redneck piece of shit, arrested him for drunk and disorderly multiple times,” Shane remembered, “Been in for B and E when he was a teenager and possession a few years back.”
Rick studied the dead man’s face. It was aged and greyer but he could see the similarities there.
“Well boys, you’ve got yourself your next job,” Abe told them, a hint of an order in his voice.
Shane groaned while Rick bit back his own. Shane was on the verge of a disciplinary recently and Rick didn't care enough to try to stop him from acting that way, not after what he's done.
“We’ll be shot on sight," Shane argued, at Abe's look he quickly added, "sir."
“I can send you with backup if there's a violence concern."
“Dixon’s an idiot but he ain’t stupid enough to shot two cops,” Rick quickly interjected. “Two cops are gonna be treated better than a squad.”
“Now, sir?” Shane asked.
“Unless you need medical attention or..." he glanced a the dead body, "if you need to talk to anyone?"
Rick elbowed Shane before he could react to that. Tara looked like she needed to talk to someone and he didn't want anyone to make her feel like she shouldn't or it was shameful in someway. Rick was used to death, in a small town it was rare but he had worked on some horrific cases that still kept him up at night. He knew the station would pay for a therapist for him but sometime stopped him from taking them up on it. Beer and Shane were his therapists. Well, now, just beer.
"We're okay right now, thank you, sir," Rick answered for them.
Abe nodded. "Make sure you’re back to fill paperwork.”
“As always,” Rick smiled and nudged Shane towards the door.
“Good luck, boys,” Abe called after them.
“You know we’re at least gonna get hit, right?” Shane asked as he drove the cop car towards bar, ASZ.
Rick snorted, he had his fair share of bruises from Dixon's previous arrests. “Probably.”
They turned the corner down the dirt track where the bar was located. As they neared Rick noticed multiple people outside smoking, glaring at their car for just existing. The outside of the building was ratty and falling apart and in desperate need of a paint job.
There were a few cars and trucks parked outside and lots of bikes. Rick counted at least twenty different vehicles, enough people for a riot, and also enough to guess that there were no designated drivers for groups.
Shane pulled up in a spare space near the exit and they both exited together, making sure the car was locked up tight before walking in.
Rick pushed open the wooden door and was immediately hit by the strong smell of alcohol, smoke, aftershave, and sweat. The rowdy room immediately fell silent and every eye turned to stare at the two cops. Rick ignored the looks and stuck his thumbs through his belt to stalk straight to the bar, his shoes sticking to the wooden floor with each step. He could feel Shane close at his back without needing to look.
He also heard the outside smokers coming inside to watch the possible arrest.
Two men stood at the bar, leering at them.
Merle Dixon looked much older than his forty-odd years, his hair thinning rapidly, his deep blue eyes holding anger he probably barely understood himself. Beside him stood a younger man, with long shaggy brown hair that curtained his face, thin facial hair in his chin and upper lip. His bright blue eyes were piercing, the same blue eyes as Merle but kinder, full of conflict.
“Officer Friendly!” Merle greeted, his voice too bright compared to the dark look on his face. “You here to arrest me? What for this time? I pissed on a cop car two nights ago. I fucked a prostitute a week ago. Or the drugs I got--”
"Merle," the younger one hissed, cutting Merle off.
Rick shook his head, choosing to ignore the various confessions for now. “Are you related to William Dixon?” he asked outright.
Merle raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“We ain’t paying no bail,” the other man spoke up.
Rick turned his attention on him. “And you are?”
“You don’t gotta answer him,” Merle spat.
The man ignored him, his eyes held Rick's intently as he and said, “Daryl.”
“Dixon?” Rick prompted.
Daryl gave a sharp nod. “He’s our dad.”
“Something’s happened. I think we all need to speak in private,” Rick said gently, aware of multiple eyes on them. “Can we come through to the back? Or step outside?”
“No," Merle said with no argument, his eyes challenging.
Daryl rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a dick, Merle.” Rick bit back his own grin, he was starting to like this Daryl.
“We ain’t got no secrets, whatever they got to say, they can say it right here.”
“I really think--” Rick started.
“He’s dead,” Shane blurted. Rick turned to Shane, horrified, this really wasn’t the best way to tell two possibly volatile people their father was dead. The few people that had started talking, immediately fell silent at the admission. Rick lowered his hand behind the bar, closer to his gun.
The two brothers stood in shocked silence, various emotions ran over both their faces, settling on matching disbelief. “Y’what?” Merle asked.
“He got drunk and was shooting out a bar, a few miles from here,” Rick explained, hoping that being as honest as possible would quell the fight just waiting to happen.
“Why would he do that?” Daryl asked.
“Don’t know, we tried to talk to him."
“And? What’d he say?” Merle prompted, his voice rougher than usual.
“He wanted the cash I think, but he was rantin’ ab--”
“Oh for,” Shane sighed, Rick glared at his friend trying to stop him but Shane ignored it. “We tried to calm him down but when he pulled out a gun and shot some girl in the bar, we were forced to shoot him.”
Rick put his hand on his gun then, he didn't want to hurt anyone, except maybe Shane for forgetting everything they were taught about conflict, but he would if it became necessary.
The silence that followed was heavy, every second that ticked by getting heavier, waiting for the response as Merle stared open-mouthed at them. Rick turned his attention to Daryl. The younger man was staring at the table, hair covering his face, hiding any emotion he was feeling.
Then a large grin spread across Merle’s face and he laughed loudly. “Well shit. Motherfuckin’ pigs actually did somethin’ right for once!”
Rick glanced at Shane to see the matching confused look on his face. “I’m sorry?”
“Don’t be.” Merle reached under the bar and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. “Hey y’all,” he shouted across the bar, “time for a celebration, our asshole of a daddy has finally kicked the bucket. Next round on the house for the lot of ya. Never thought I’d give a cop a drink on the house.” He poured two whiskeys and slid them across the bar to him and Shane.
Shane took his with a laugh. “Got time before we need to be back,” he said as though trying to justify it and knocked it back. Only then did Rick release his tight grip on his gun.
Rick glanced at Daryl, the other man turned away to focus on the sudden rush from the house offer. “You okay, Daryl?” Rick asked as he passed by.
Daryl gave another sharp nod, roughly pushing the hair out of his face and smirked at them but it looked completely false. “Drink up,” he murmured.
Merle patted his back roughly still grinning. “Ha, about fuckin’ time dontcha think lil’ brother?” Merle poured another two whiskeys, offering one to Daryl who took it and accepted the toast.
Rick sipped at his own, the clearly cheap whiskey burning at his throat, and found himself watching the younger man who moved around the bar with his shoulders tense and pulled together yet his movements were smooth, comfortable behind the bar.
The moment he realised Rick was looking, he forced a smile on his face like he thought if he smiled he might actually be happy about it.
Merle leant into the bar opposite them asking Shane for every gory detail, seeming determined to know exactly how his father died.
“Merle, man, shut up,” Daryl spat after the third question.
“What? You don’t wanna know? Man, wish I was there to see it.”
“He’s dead,” Daryl said softly. “S’all I care about.” He stormed past Merle and out of the bar, leaving a few customers shouting for drinks. Rick hesitated but decided to follow, ignoring Shane calling after him.
Rick found the younger brother standing around the back of the bar attempting to light a cigarette but his hands were shaking and the lighter kept sparking and then shutting off.
“Fuckin’ cheap piece of--”
Rick purposefully walked loudly, pulling Daryl’s attention to him. Rick smiled and fished for his own lighter. “Here.” He lit the cigarette for him.
“Thanks,” he murmured, sucking down the smoke like it was a lifeline.
“Welcome.” Rick leant against the wall next to him.
“Want one?” He asked after a moment, holding up the box. Rick hesitated, and then took one.
“Thanks.” Rick sucked in the smoke, barely holding back a groan. It had been too long since he had one. “Lori would kill me,” Rick said suddenly. When Daryl didn’t ask, Rick continued anyway. “My ex-wife. She made me quit then fucked my partner.” Daryl looked at him this time, eyes darting towards the bar. “Yup. Neither of 'em know I know.”
“The hell haven’t you shot him for?” Daryl asked bewildered.
Rick shrugged. “When I found out, I was relieved, not upset. Weird, I know.” Rick laughed. “Lori and I started dating in high school, I guess I just went along with it. Expecting a normal life, white picket fence, two point five kids and all that shit.”
“What the hell you tellin’ me for?”
“Making conversation?” Daryl lifted both his eyebrows questioningly and Rick laughed, Daryl snorted. He had a nice smile, Rick noticed, when it was genuine. “I know your brother doesn’t seem to care but I want to apologise.”
“S’fine,” Daryl murmured. “He was a dick.”
“Still your dad.”
Daryl hummed in response, sucking down the smoke, thin lips pulled around his cheeks hollowed out. Rick found his mind wandering about those lips circling around something else. Rick quickly looked away, reminding himself now really isn’t the time.
“Ain’t seen him in ‘bout a year,” Daryl admitted and chuckled but there was no humour in it. “More than that if ya count not just him turnin’ up, askin’ for money and fuckin’ off when we don’t give him none.”
“I take it, you three never really got along?” Rick asked.
“Nah, we were the fuckin’ brady bunch,” Daryl said, smirking up at him.
Rick chuckled. “What about your Mom? Do you need to call her?”
Daryl looked away again, shaking his head just enough to bring his hair to cover him again. Rick wondered if Daryl even knew he was doing that. “Died when I was a kid.”
“Ah, shit. I’m sorry.”
“Long time ago.”
Rick focused on his smoke for a moment, using it as he tried to think of something else to say.
“‘Bout a week after Mom’s funeral he dropped a brand new crossbow on my bed and told me he’ll teach me how to use it,” Daryl said suddenly, looking up again at him, pushing his hair out of his face. “Barely spent any money on food but that thing weren’t cheap.”
“You still got it?”
Daryl nodded. “Better to hunt with than a gun. Quieter. If I miss deer, don't run quite as far. Not that I miss much.”
Rick chuckled. “Should I call you Hawkeye?” Daryl frowned. “It’s a-- nothing. Don’t worry about it. That’s pretty cool though. I’d love to learn archery.”
“Ain’t no good with a long bow. Different balance.”
“You still gotta be pretty strong for either one?” Rick asked, unable to stop himself from running his eyes over Daryl’s muscular biceps, covered a healthy outdoor tan.
“Don’t even know yer name,” Daryl said suddenly.
Rick jumped, realising he was staring but Daryl caught his eye, his own suddenly dark. “Hm? Oh, Rick Grimes.”
“Rick Grimes,” Daryl said as though testing his name on his tongue, and boy did it sound good coming from him. “I need a drink, Grimes.”
“Wanna go back in?” Rick asked.
“Nah. I mean somewhere quieter,” Daryl said, his words loaded. “I’m gonna head back to my place. This bar is a shithole.”
“Ain’t it yours?” Rick asked, perplexed.
Daryl snorted. “Merle owns it, I just help out and run it when he’s in jail or drunk.” He dropped his cigarette and squished it into the mud, eyes locked on Rick’s. “Come with me, if ya want. I got better whiskey.”
“Dontcha need to keep working?” Rick said slowly, hesitant to follow him.
Daryl shrugged. “Merle’s got it. He’ll call Carol or Dwight if he needs. ‘Sides, if there’s anythin’ I need to do as next of kin, you need ta show me?”
He lifted his eyebrows in question as he started walking backwards, a small smirk in place knowing what Rick was going to do.
Rick spared a glance at the bar knowing Shane was waiting for him but hey, he was off duty soon.
Rick dropped his own smoke and jogged to catch up with Daryl as he climbed on the lone bike, accepting the offered helmet.