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He dreamt of Lori and Shane. They were how they had once been.
Lori was beautiful in the sunshine, seated at the kitchen table, her hair a loose wave of dark curls falling down her back, the glint of an earring through her hair. Her long fingers curled around the mug, her wedding ring clinking delicately against the enamel as she smiled at him. Her large, pale eyes were warm as she lifted the mug to her lips and blew against the liquid within, cooling it before raising it to her lips and taking a small sip. She’d always done that, even if the drink was cool enough already, her first sip was always cooled first.
Shane was bronzed and strong, his thick black hair wild and soft above his grinning face. He sat like he always had, limbs spread out as he slouched low and comfortable in his chair, taking up as much space as he could. He had a mug in front of him which he held loosely in one hand, the other stretched out over the empty chair beside him as he grinned at Rick, calling him Brother in the way he had, like it was more than just the word.
Rick woke to the predawn light.
Staring up at the pale ceiling he let the warm gentleness of his dream wash over him. Those last months with them had tarnished his memories. Now, whenever he thought of them, his heart ached. Even after all this time.
Being in Alexandria was strange. He found himself occasionally turning to a woman who wasn’t there. Looking at the blue vase in Deanne’s house he’d thought that Lori would like it, he could imagine her long slender fingers hovering in the air just above it as she imagined owning it.
When he fixed a door on one of the houses the other day, he’d found himself expecting Shane on a seat, watching him; broad grin breaking across his face as he laughed at Rick, telling him he was hopeless at this handyman shit.
Surprisingly, it was easier to think about them here, a place at once so like their lives before as much as it is completely different.
Rolling out of the bed he dressed in the dim half-light and made his way down to the kitchen where he prepared a pot of coffee and stared out the window as it percolated.
The house wasn’t awake yet, still more night than morning, and he took comfort in the quiet, in the safe solitude. It had been dangerous to go anywhere alone for so long and it still unsettled him to enjoy it.
The back door creaked as it was pushed open. Rick recognised the tread of Daryls boots before his figure pushed through into the kitchen, casting a quick, surprised glance at Rick before nodding a greeting.
Rick reached for a mug to place beside his own wordlessly; and smiled at the small curl of thanks on the other mans lips. It was as easy as breathing doing things with Daryl, and he took a sort of guilty pleasure in it, in how effortless their communication is and has always been.
He knew Daryl was close with Carol, they were the same in so many ways; both remarkable, strong people who were drawn to each other. He tried not to be jealous of that, but occasionally, a childish possessiveness flared up. But as close as those two were, they didn’t work on the effortless synchronicity that he and Daryl worked on.
Placing the mugs on the table, Rick settled into one of the chairs and let his eyes drift out the window at the slowly lightening sky. There was the scrape of another chair being pulled out and the rustle of fabric to let him know Daryl had joined him.
They sat in a silence which felt warm and safe. Rick let it sink into his bones, wrap around his heart. It blended with the remaining tenderness of his dream and he felt tension bleed out of his body.
He was so tired sometimes, exhausted in a way he’d never been before the world changed. This world was tough and dangerous and mean and he knew he thrived in it. It pushed him constantly, never letting him pause or rest. But some days, when something reminded him of his life before, he was nearly sick with a longing for how it used to be. For how simple it had all been.
“I used to watch the westerns on the tv every Sunday. Me and my dad,” Rick said as his eyes drifted to the lounge room, as though he’d see a tv in the corner. Daryl did the same, following his gaze to the empty room. “Mom hated them, said they were so loud, so violent. But me and dad, it was our thang, I loved them, thought they were amazing.” He looked down at his mug of coffee, a small luxury which he had never realised he relied on so much until it was gone.
When he glanced at Daryl he was looking at him with a placid, interested face. Rick admired it for a moment. In the dim half-light he was wild looking, different to the coarse, fiery man he’d met at the quarry, this man was something else, born out of hardship and shaped by experience. He’d faced every challenge this new world offered and had come out the victor, come out stronger while other men, while Rick, had crumbled under the strain.
“When I told them I was going to become a cop, mom was horrified.” Rick continued, smiling a little at the memory. “Didn’t talk to Shane for a week, convinced it was him being a bad influence on me. Truth was, Shane had no idea what he wanted to do with his life, I convinced him to join up with me.” Rick didn’t know how he felt remembering that, about remembering that part of his life where Shane was his everything. They were going to do everything together, nothing was ever going to tear them apart.
It was easier to think and talk about those times now, something about the almost-familiarity of Alexandria, the not-quite replica of the old world which made the scars that separated him from his memories of these people a little less tender.
Daryl curled his hands around his mug, holding it close and guarded as though someone might try to take it away from him. His eyes wandered to the corner of the lounge room Ricks own had fixed on.
“We had a TV when I was a kid, some big old, black and white thing.” His voice was low and rough, the deep rumble Rick found such comfort in, “Used to watch cartoons on it, down real low. Went up in the fire. Didn’t have one again for years. Till Merle and a coupla his buddies stole one,” his eyes darted to Rick and a smile played on the corner of his mouth. When he spoke, amusement threaded through his words, “took three of them to take the fucking thing. Remember them laughing the whole damned time.” He shook his head. “Pa put a boot through it not long after, don’t think he had a reason, didn’t need one most of the time.”
They finished their coffees in silence, a comfortable familiarity as the sky lightened and a new day dawned. When the sun was just cresting the tops of the trees they could see through the windows, Rick spoke again.
“It was almost easier, being out on the road. Simpler.” Rick said, avoiding looking towards Daryl, knowing he’ll be the subject of a penetrative gaze which could pick him apart, could read him right down to his bones.
He was saying more than just the words. He was admitting something about himself he didn’t want anyone else to know. It was easier being that wild, violent man, pushed to extremes and doing anything in his power and beyond to keep his family safe. On the road, he had no choice but to be that man, to let himself sink into that darkness.
In Alexandria he was living with double vision, the old world and the new collided and with it, all the rules and social norms, the conventions which tied them down and made the good and decent and human.
Some part of him balked at the thought of anyone knowing he was floundering, even just for a moment, but the calm presence of Daryl at his side wasn’t some judgemental critic. He didn’t rely on Rick for anything. He’d be just fine if he went out on his own, disappeared into the woods and never looked back. The thought of him doing that filled Rick with such horror it could steal his breath away. But looking at his silent companion, the wild man sitting in his kitchen, Ricks heart felt swollen and weak with thanks for him, for his solid, silent presence that never let him down and he believed, never would.
He turned to face Daryl. “Thank you. for being here, I wouldn’t be here without you.” His voice was low and hushed in the morning light.
“Yeah you would.” Daryl scoffed. Rick was shaking his head before Daryl had finished speaking.
“Not in any way that mattered, not in any way that was… human.” His voice faded towards the end, the things he never wanted to say slipping out on a breath. Daryl was watching him steadily, a small frown between his eyebrows and teeth chewing on his chapped lower lip.
“You’re better than you think you are.” He said, voice low and firm. Rick smiled at him.
“So are you.” It felt like a vow as it slipped from his lips. He watched the words land on Daryl like a blow, ploughing into him and leaving no room for doubt. Rick put his everything behind those words, his love and devotion and hope.
Standing up, Rick rested a hand on Daryls shoulder, letting it grip the strong muscle before bowing his head and kissing the tousled hair on Daryls crown, breathing another thank you into his hair.
Daryls hand raised to hold onto Ricks where it rested on his shoulder. Daryls fingers were long and calloused, their grip around Ricks was tentative, as though he was unsure if it was allowed. Rick smiled into his hair and let the fingers of his other hand comb gently through the hair behind Daryls ear, making him shiver and roll his head to the side, catching Ricks hand between his jaw and shoulder.
Rick huffed a silent laugh as he raising up, leaving his hands where they were.
Daryls didn’t accept touch readily. Rick always felt proud when he accepted it from Rick, when he initiated it himself it was closer to a bolt of happiness rocking through Rick.
When he’d fallen in love with Lori it was like slipping into a daze, a warm, hazy time where she was his entire world, he would have done anything for her. It was passionate and sweet like highschool romances always were.
He doesn’t know when he realised he loved Shane, he’d just always been there. He loved him like he loved his mom and dad. Shane was the brother he’d never had and he had always loved him.
But loving Daryl was like waking up.
He didn’t know exactly when it had happened, just that one day he realised he did, he realised he was only really awake when he was near the other man.
He’d tried to pin point the moment it happened, thought maybe it was in the prison when he laughed up at Maggie and Glenn, truly one of the family, or when Rick turned at the gates of Woodbury and realising the archer wasn’t with him. Perhaps when he looked up from the arrow piercing through the walkers skull and his own haze of despair to see him emerging from the trees to save him.
Maybe it was later, when Rick was on his knees with a gun to his head and for a split second he was fine with dying; because at least he knew Daryl was alive, at least he got to hear his voice one more time.
Whenever it was, Rick loved Daryl. In moments like this, he knew in the core of him that Daryl loved him back.