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Alexandria was more like a prison than the actual one the group had called home for almost a year.
Each steel panel was like a bar on the cage, keeping them locked inside as well as keeping the walkers out. And no matter how much they were told it was to keep them safe, Daryl didn’t believe it for five seconds. It felt more like a trap than a sanctuary, something that kept them confined inside until the inevitable fallout –just like the prison. Daryl had thought that had been safe, they all had, but he had been proven wrong just like he had been his entire life. Safe. Animals at the zoo lived in cages to keep them safe too, but that didn’t change the fact that they lived in a cage.
Daryl made sure he never spent a full 24 hours inside the walls of Alexandria, even if it was only twenty minutes spent out checking the snares he had set up in the surrounding forests. He felt like a dog on one of those tethered leashes, ‘free’ to roam as he pleased as long as he stayed within reach. But it wasn’t the rules that the people of Alexandria set out that kept him in check, there wasn’t much that could keep Daryl Dixon from doing exactly what he had set his mind to. In this metaphor the figurative lurch of the chain stopping him from going too far was the thought of leaving his family in this death trap. Sure, what he had told the queen bee had been true, the kids needed a roof over their heads. Little Asskicker deserved to be able to grow up and run around with other kids without having to carry a hunting knife. Carl deserved to be a kid; play video games, make friends, fool around with the girl he’d been hanging out with. Have his heart broken. It was a part of the life that had been stolen from them. And he knew it was right that they had that. That everyone got a little slice of what had been lost, and slowly –and only a little reluctantly – the people he called his family had found refuge in the gated town.
Everyone except him.
His mud caked boots made the softest of footfalls on the steps of the towering white house, the crickets and cicadas in the trees making more noise than the hunter in the still autumn night. Everyone was asleep by the time he had returned from Aaron and Erik’s garage, he had taken a detour through the yards and little groves of trees that were scattered throughout the neighborhoods – in the opposite direction of their house. Well, it was Rick’s house, Daryl was just sleeping on the couch. He hadn’t wanted to return just yet, not when there was still a chance that the new constable was awake.
Michonne had approached him earlier that day, asking if he was avoiding Rick, which he denied. She didn’t know that they met in secret with Carol, planning on taking over the town if things didn’t go Rick’s way. But that was really the only time that he saw the other man, and – it was working out for the better for him. What with everything that was going on. Honestly. He missed his best friend, but for a while the tugging in his chest had lessened as he busied himself within the motorcycle parts in the garage down the street. It helped him forget that his friend seemed to be doing just fine without him.
When they first arrived Daryl knew everyone would fall into place well, knew Rick would be able to slide back into his old roles he had when he had first met him, even though Rick acted like he didn’t want to. But Daryl had never belonged in a place like this. These clean manicured neighborhoods with well-mannered law-abiding citizens, that had completed college educations and a 401K and a mortgage back before everything went to hell. Daryl had only ever known over grown back country roads, gravel paved with no street lights, tin houses surrounded by forest and rusted cars. He knew working to survive, not even living paycheck to paycheck, finding odd jobs between his part-time hours and sometimes hunting the woods when they were low on food. He had been prepping for this apocalypse his whole life, and now that he had been dragged back into something masquerading as society – he didn’t want it. The closest he ever had to something like that, safe and sturdy and well-earned, was the prison. But that was gone, as much as a façade as this place, and even though Daryl fought against it tooth and nail it still felt like he was losing everything all over again.
Carl had set up a room for him on the first floor, it use to be an office but it had a nice black leather couch that was much more comfortable than the one in the living room. He had tried it out for only one night and hadn’t been able to sleep a minute in the small confined room, he had said a long time ago he refused to sleep in a cage. The prison cells were more open than that damn office, making him feel isolated and vulnerable and too far away from his family if something were to happen. So he had relocated to the couch in the living room, where the space was more open and any sounds from the upstairs echoed down the hallways and spiral staircase by the front door, and he slept more soundly that night than he had since the prison fell. Because there really wasn’t anything dangerous out there in the dark, nothing he couldn’t handle if it dared to get through their doors. Carol had said that Rick probably would understand , having not been able to sleep that first week either unless his family was within visible view, as long as he started bathing regularly. They all used that couch after all. But the archer was still concerned about invading the living room, though the ex-sheriff just shook his head when Daryl brought it up, saying it was no problem and he could sleep wherever he felt like sleeping. Didn’t even ask why Daryl didn’t want a room of his own, the house next door had plenty, just accepted that Daryl didn’t want to be too far from everyone. From him. From the kids.
He wouldn’t be able to guess why even if he had tried.
Grease slicked up to his elbows, the redneck slid quietly into the downstairs bathroom, shrugging off his jacket and winged vest as he did, squinting against the harsh florescent light. He knew Carol was right, and only out of respect for Rick did he ever clean up before he went to sleep. Filling up the sink with water to keep the barely used pipes from continuously groaning from a running faucet, he splashed the clear water on his face, smearing the grease as he attempted to get it off of his skin. The water was tinting grey as he scrubbed at his face and neck, before basically dunking his whole head into the sink to rinse the sweat and grease from his hair. He ended up using his sleeveless shirt as a towel for his dripping head, shedding the garment that was already half soaked with water anyway. It was strange how hard he tried to leave as little of himself behind, every now and then he would catch himself doing things like not using the perfectly good towels hanging up and wondering why – Rick didn’t care. As far as Rick was concerned Daryl lived there too. But to Daryl, a small part of him wanted to not leave a trace, to be able to just take what he could carry and run if he wanted. To get as far away from the towering houses that cost more than the whole trailer park he and Merle had lived in, from the people who watched him and warned their kids to keep away. From the judgments he didn’t give two shits about, the expectations that hung over his head from the people he actually cared to not let down, and from the disappointment he made when he refused to meet those expectations.
He had yet to tell anyone about Aaron’s offer, even though it would probably make them feel like he was trying to integrate like they had asked him too. Like he was finally finding a place in the community.
They just wouldn’t guess that the place he found was fifty miles outside the gates.
Rick wasn’t going to like that.
It was thoughts like that, things Daryl knew for certain about his friend that contradicted what he said and what he did, that made anger start to build within his chest. Rick didn’t care what he did, if he ever saw him, as long as he was still near. He knew it was because the other man trusted him to do what was right by him, but ever since he had found that the walls were actually sturdy he had been focusing more and more on what this place could be and not on the people surrounding him. Daryl almost didn’t want to tell Rick at all, a small vindictive part of himself wondering how long it would take him or anyone else to notice he was gone; Rick didn’t fucking own him, he could leave if he fucking wanted to. He only stayed because he loved-
Fuck, he loved every single one of them. They were his family now, his kin, the people he chose to love and care about. And they cared about him, had proven it time and time again. Carol, Michonne, Glen, Maggie, Tara, Rosita and Abe and Eugene, Carl and Judi.
Rick.
They had been separated for a little while after the prison fell, and now it was like – they didn’t know anything about each other.
They thought he wasn’t trying.
Fuck he was trying by just staying, the only one who seemed to get that was Aaron. Thank God for Aaron, that job offer – the more he thought about it – was perfect for him, tailored to him, was the only way he could live in Alexandria comfortably. It hurt a little bit that the people he called his family, that he lived with for years and would’ve died for, didn’t know him well enough to know what would help him. What would make him stay.
“Daryl.”
Tension returned to his shoulders, bunching up the sore muscles and making Daryl straighten his spine. He was a little proud he only glanced at Rick for a second, the skip of his heartbeat that he hated masked perfectly behind his stoic face, before returning to the water in the sink, scrubbing at the grease on his arms and hands. “Yer up late.”
“You’re back late, where were you?” His intense blue eyes were inspecting him, especially the grease still on his arms and neck. Every place his eyes traced over made Daryl’s skin crawl, but he did his best to hold his discomfort in. Daryl also did his best to not look in the mirror, not wanting reminders of his long greasy hair that made Merle’s voice echo in his head from his childhood ‘ya look like a damn girl, boy!’ or the discolored marks across his broad shoulders and chest. Did his best to not think about how he had used his damn shirt as a towel earlier so his back was exposed to his friend, the raised flesh that criss-crossed in grotesque patterns. But he was scrubbing too vigorously, staring too intently at his hands in the water, tensing too much and being too focused because he heard Rick sigh through his nose and drag his eyes away. Knowing what he needed, but all that did was make Daryl more angry – frustration sinking into his bones at the contradictive push and pull of Rick not knowing so much but still knowing just what he needed. He didn’t want to be fucking pitied! It left this bitter taste on his tongue, and he felt fucking trapped – once again – in the place they wanted him to call home. This time he did reach for the towel hanging by the sink and yanked it off the stupid ring attached to the wall a little too hard. “Why’re you covered in grease?” Rick pressed.
“Was fixin’ up a bike.”
“Whose bike?” Rick asked in surprise.
“Mine,” Daryl responded, this time looking at his friend when he answered. It was nice to see the confusion on Rick’s face, a flicker of discomfort to reflect what Daryl had been feeling since he entered Alexandria. It was still weird seeing Rick without his beard, his hair shorter; a juxtaposition that didn’t settle right in Daryl’s stomach because he looked like the man that Daryl would’ve followed to the ends of the Earth, the man he had started to respect back when they were living on Hershel’s farm, except for his eyes. They were just as dead and road-worn as they had been the past few months, with a touch of cabin fever and a God complex that had been bred inside this fake community’s walls. Daryl loved Rick, more than he should, but he was beginning to resent the man standing before him more and more with each passing day.
“You have a bike,” Rick ended up saying, with such a tone of disbelief it bordered on him starting to laugh as he spoke the words. Daryl just scowled and shrugged past him, making sure he didn’t touch the other man no matter how much he was blocking the door. Rick noticed. “Where did you get a bike?”
“Aaron.” Daryl had stalked over to his pack that was leaning against the couch to dig for a shirt, pulling it over his head and shoulders forcefully so he had a shield against his own stupid residual feelings and could talk with Rick like a normal fucking person. “An’ it ain’t a bike yet, just parts.” Rick had followed him and was standing with his arms crossed, still watching and taking in as much as he could. Daryl would’ve take offense if he hadn’t known the man better. It looked like he was checking his reactions for lies, but the two of them trusted each other too much to know they wouldn’t, it wasn’t safe to keep secrets when they were keeping so many others from everyone else. He was just using his usual deduction and reasoning to soak in any facts that Daryl may omit, perfected skills that could never be turned off like a damn leaking faucet. Fucking cop. The hunter had grabbed a flannel out of the laundry basket that Carol thought might fit him, fiddling with it because it was still half turned inside out as he talked. “Said the parts ‘re mine if I want ‘em. Said I’d need a bike.”
Rick’s blue eyes turned to ice in an instant, his whole body going rigid and on red alert at his words. “Why.”
“Offered me a job,” Daryl shrugged, before shrugging on the long sleeved black and grey flannel shirt. “Go recruiting wit’ him, Erik’s out fer awhile. He don’t want him gettin’ hurt no’more-“
“So he’s gonna risk you instead?” Rick demanded, anger lacing his features.
“I can take care o’ my damn self,” Daryl almost shouted, before remembering the baby asleep upstairs. They both seemed to remember at the same time, listening for a moment before going back to glaring at each other. “Ya asked me ta find a place here, I did. I got a job, wha’ more do ya want?”
“I want you to fucking try-“
“I am! ” Daryl seethed. “I ain’t cut fer this place, an’ they all see that, this is how I blend in.”
“By spending weeks at a time away from us!?”
“If tha’s wha’ it takes,” Daryl answered. “They kick people out who don’ fit, Rick. Aaron told me. Ya want ta still live here, I gotta find somethin’ or they’re gonna kick me out.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Rick said with all defiance, all certainty. “I won’t let it.”
“Thinkin’ ya won’ have a choice,” Daryl snorted, too exhausted to keep up the argument Rick seemed to want, snagging his usual blankets and pillows that he’d been using on the couch and tossing them to the brown paisley monstrosity. Rick sighed again through his nose, running his hands through his hair and messing up the curls, and Daryl couldn’t stop himself from staring. It was the most Rick thing he had done in a while, frustrated but caring and trying hard to work his way around an obstacle he couldn’t control. He’d been so in charge, so hyper-focused on everything, that finally having the ability to control an outcome ripped out from under him made the ex-lawman slide back into a shell of himself that Daryl had thought died out on the road. And he had done that, brought back a piece of Rick that Daryl loved, loved so much it made his chest ache.
Shit, he didn’t want this tonight. He never thought being in love would hurt this much, never thought he’d even be in love, but definitely didn’t expect the exhaustion. He felt like it was killing him.
He had accepted a long time ago that he was in love with Rick Grimes, though it had taken many months to get to that conclusion. Years, if he really thought about it. He had gone through many stages, phases, of intense emotions before he had gotten to the point he was at now. Hopeless and accepting and already half-dead from the strain of it. What with all those songs and poems and shit that had been written about it, he didn’t think it would be this torturing, and he would’ve taken it back in a second if he could have. But fuck did he love the man, and it would be the end of him – he was sure of it.
At first it had been denial, there was no way he was in love with a man, let alone a man like Rick Grimes. He had created all these other reasons, parallel realities where he was just respectful of the man, maybe had a hero worship that he didn’t want to fully admit to. Let himself into the other man’s orbit, that had been back on the farm and they had things they needed to do – a little girl to find – and that had been his first mistake. Once in his orbit, he couldn’t tear himself away, didn’t want to. And didn’t know why, what was keeping him there, keeping him wanting to contribute and help. But when he realized it was an actual honest to God crush, and couldn’t be anything but, he became angry.
Frustration and anger at himself at first, then at the situation, sometimes at Rick or Carol or Lori, whoever was in the vicinity. He had even removed himself from the group, far on the outskirts of the farm so he could keep his distance. He almost left a couple of nights. Unfortunately, that hadn’t worked out all that well. He had been dragged back kicking and screaming, literally because of Carol, until he figured out the group needed him to keep alive, they kept doing dumbass things – like trusting Shane, or arguing about morals, trying to keep a hostage. Things that shouldn’t have been on their list of priorities, the idiots were going to get themselves killed. And that was how he ended up at Rick’s side once more, filling in the space Shane had vacated, taking some of the weight off of Rick’s shoulders, being the tone of reason and blunt honesty. He fit there really well, and deep down that made him a little angry as well.
Then he found distractions, when he found he couldn’t stay mad at the man – or anyone – when it was really no one’s fault but his own. He found an infinite number or reasons to respect and trust Rick Grimes, especially over the winter they spent running from house to house and town to town, barely surviving. They had been caught between multiple herds, just bad timing and positioning, and did what they could to make it through the cold months. He became impressed with the man, with how he had thrown away the things that had been dragging him down and only kept the skills and morals that would help in this dead, feral world. And that man still trusted Daryl, even after everything with Shane. Maybe it was because Daryl didn’t believe in fucking around, didn’t waste time on trivial things and knew what they needed to prioritize, and did not tolerate bullshit. They ended up spending a lot of time together, learned they worked well, moved like they had known each other all their lives, and that closeness wasn’t something Daryl had ever had. Not even with his brother, because while they had been attached at the hip the whole relationship had been toxic, self destructive and keeping Daryl rooted in one spot. Rick made him better, gave him purpose, helped him improve, and the redneck found himself actually becoming a part of the group. Of the family, a family so unlike his own, and yes he was still awkward and distant from them half the time because he didn’t know how to have a family like that. But he knew how to be around Rick, because Rick didn’t ask anything of him other than for him to – continue to be himself. Because everything Daryl was – was something that Rick needed, to lean against, to have at his side. Solid and reliant, and Daryl found he would do anything to remain there, no matter the anger and rage that circulated inside the ex-lawman. Fuck, and there it was again, it was no longer a crush by that point. What was love, if not wanting to do anything and everything for the person they loved, be whatever they needed them to be. But his wife was pregnant, everyone was starving, and they had so many other things to deal with other than Daryl’s sexual crisis.
So he shoved those feelings deep inside of him, somewhere that the light of day could never reach them, and just did what he could to help. Especially when they found the prison. He learned to love his family, found himself along the way, found out what he could do and what he could contribute, which was quite a fucking lot. He became a pillar in their group, in the family and community they made at the prison, he had fucking purpose. He had never had any of that before, and he had found it all on his own. Things his brother and father swore he would never have. Though he knew he’d never have any of it without Rick.
There were no rose-colored glasses, though, no blind ambitions on Daryl’s part, he knew what he felt was only ever going to be on his side. He knew Rick was married, widowed and mourning, had children he needed to care for and himself to mend. Rick had become someone he hated, and he had wanted to change; so Daryl did everything in his power to give his friend that chance. Took over runs, over recruiting, helped set up the small council, and made sure no one ever interfered with Rick’s healing. When they needed another person for a run, his first words when anyone even mentioned the other man was “we don’t ask Rick”. For a while it worked, Rick was happy, changed into a new man that only needed to focus on his work on the grounds and his family – which included Daryl. They all had been happy, safe and fortified and actually living instead of just surviving. Until the Governor rolled up to the gates in an army tank.
When the prison fell, Daryl thought Rick was dead, and an overwhelming sadness took over him. He had lost all will to live, even when Beth – sweet, hopeful Beth – had tried to help him get up and move on. She almost succeeded before she too was taken, and then he had nothing left.
It was a stroke of luck, or fate if he believed in such a useless thing, that he found Rick alive. In a terrible situation, one they couldn’t have escaped from, surrounded by the group of men he had been with but had been too blind with grief to really see. As soon as he saw the other man with a gun to his temple, acceptance settled into his bones, and the words “hold up” escaped from his lips before he could stop them. He laid down his crossbow, took each punch and blow without raising a hand to defend himself, and knew he was ready to die for Rick Grimes. Because he loved him, with every fucking fiber of his being he loved him. Even if he knew Rick would never love him back, not like that.
It was the worst and best thing to ever happen to him to hear the words “you’re my brother” come out of Rick’s mouth. It was the most emotion Daryl had ever felt, being pulled in two different directions, but ultimately it gave him conformation that yes, Rick did care for him too.
Ever since then acceptance was the state he had remained in; an acceptance that always seemed to be laced with a taste of death. He was ready to die for Rick Grimes, always would be, and would follow him no matter where the other man went. Someone had to look after his crazy ass.
He just didn’t know that when they came here, to Alexandria, that that love would tear him apart each and every day. When the contrast showed just how much Rick had changed, when the town itself forced everyone to mold into these new people that fit in within the community, when everything exiled and shamed him for not conforming. Carol becoming fake and cruel and devious, planning to overthrow the town and kill anyone that gets in the way. The others becoming soft, confused, awkward and not sure until they have a spot to call their own – moving further and further away from each other. Sasha losing her damn mind. And Rick, God complex rearing its ugly head, agreeing with Carol’s plans, and staring hungrily after a married woman across the street who dared to show them kindness. It felt like he didn’t even know any of them anymore, because he couldn’t predict what any member of his family were going to do. He tried hard to keep track of them, make sure they were well – happy. It shouldn’t have hurt so much that they were.
“You’ll be safe out there,” Rick said after a few minutes, and Daryl had to tear his gaze away before the other man noticed how he had been staring at him.
The archer nodded, pressing his lips together in something that might have been a smile if he felt more confident about it. “Always am.”
“When do you leave?”
“Next week, probably,” Daryl answered, cutting a glance at Rick as he tugged his boots off. “Depends on wh’n I get the bike done.”
Rick nodded, then a small smile skirted the corner of his lips that just ripped at Daryl’s chest and lungs. “Do me a favor?” Daryl looked up at him, pale blue eyes no longer squinting and staring unabashedly at the other man because how could he not, when he hadn’t seen his Rick in weeks. Anything, he would’ve said, but just nodded in agreement instead. “Take yer time fixin’ up that bike?”
The request stunned him, so much so a huff that might have been a laugh if it had been anyone but Daryl escaped his lips, and something that might have been a smile tried to flutter across his face. “I’ll see what I can do.”
He’d take all damn year to fix that stupid bike, if it kept Rick Grimes looking at him like that – in the living room of a house that could’ve been their home. Daryl’s home. Maybe one day it would be, because to Daryl home was where Rick was. Where his family was. And even though he still didn’t trust the town, and his skin crawled with anxiety when he was locked inside, that was reason enough to always come back through the gates of Alexandria.