Chapter Text
Daryl still woke up each morning with dread weighing down his heart like a stone. He would roll over in bed and see Rick sprawled out beside him, curls in disarray and mouth slightly open. With trembling fingers, Daryl would carefully seek out Rick’s pulse in his neck or wrist – whichever was easier to reach on that particular morning. He would hold his breath, hoping, praying, and he would find a pulse. And he would breathe a sigh of relief.
Dr Griffin hadn’t been able to explain it, or course, Rick returning to life. She had examined Rick and found nothing amiss - he was just back, alive and healthy. Daryl knew it was because he had killed Victor and eaten enough of him to regenerate his body somehow. They didn’t understand it, it made no sense and went against everything they knew about the world and walkers. They had come to the conclusion they would simply never know, it was a mystery, an anomaly. To be honest, deep down, Daryl couldn’t care less. All he cared about was that he had Rick back.
It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, however, Rick suffered flashbacks, or ‘relapse’ as Dr Griffin called them. They happened most often during the night. Daryl would be woken by Rick screaming and thrashing, babbling incoherently, his body covered in a cold sweat. It was more than him just suffering an intense nightmare, Rick would forget how to speak, and resort back to acting like he had when he had been a walker. During his relapses his heart never stopped beating and he eventually always calmed down and regained control of himself. Dr Griffin suspected it was a form of post traumatic stress and said, with time, they should stop.
Rick didn’t like to talk about his relapses, or anything to do with his time as being a walker. Daryl had asked how him how it had felt, along with other questions, but Rick just refused to answer so Daryl stopped asking, respecting Rick’s wish to just forget it ever happened. It was difficult and complicated, but it was for the best – for them both.
No matter what Rick said or did, though, Daryl knew there was still a tiny part of the man that blamed him for letting him turn. He felt it in the way Rick would kiss him sometimes, just a little too hard, and see it in his eyes when he didn’t look away quick enough when it got frustrated. Daryl tried not to dwell upon it and he wasn’t angry at Rick for lying to him about it; he was ashamed of himself too. It became just another thing they didn’t talk about.
Since the Governor and Woodberry, Rick had always found it tough to trust new people and it turned out Michael and Salvation was no different. Rick liked Michael well enough, he just didn’t trust him. Michael had told Daryl not to worry about it, that he understood, and hoped it would chance in the future. Daryl felt a little guilty over the whole matter and hoped Michael would turn out to be right.
Lucy had shown Rick around the town’s gardens where they grew vegetables and fruit and kept chickens and pigs. The ex-sheriff’s eyes had lit up at the sight and he had quickly got stuck in, spending long hours of each day in the gardens. Daryl often watched him fondly, remembering how Hershel had taught him about farming back at the prison. He didn’t understand the passion Rick had for it but he was relieved the man had found something to keep his mind occupied.
Gradually, they had fallen into a routine and Rick had relaxed and Daryl’s hand had recovered. For the first time in a long while, they had a roof over their heads, a bed to sleep in and food in their bellies. They were safe and, though Rick still had bad days and Daryl often thought of the open-road, they were content.
***
Daryl’s scream of agony split through the air and something deep inside of Rick snapped. He launched himself towards the man who was hurting Daryl, seizing hold of him and flinging him to the ground.
White hot rage like he had never experienced before was coursing through his veins, setting every nerve on fire and driving the hunger up in his throat. He could smell the blood pumping through the man’s body; hear it pounding in his ears.
Yanking the man’s head back to reveal his throat had felt like the most natural thing in the world. Sinking his teeth into skin and muscle had sent an electric thrill through his body. Thick, hot, salty blood burst into his mouth as he tore into the major artery. It ran deliciously down his throat and he gulped more down. He suddenly began to feel warm for the first time since he had turned and something inside his foggy mind awoke.
The hunger was ringing in his ears, deafening him to everything else. Though his eyes were open he didn’t see anything around him for nothing but the taste and the feeling mattered.
More, he had to have more. Clenching his jaw, he yanked his head up, ripping the throat open - wide, gapping and spurting blood. Suddenly ravenous, he began to feast. With every mouthful the warmth grew within his body from his stomach. Like wildfire it spread and spread until it was consuming him.
Something in his chest fluttered at that moment and Rick paused. The fluttering came again and he swallowed his mouthful. Suddenly he gasped, falling forwards over the body, holding himself up with shaking arms. Something inside of his ribcage was pulsating and his skin started to tingle.
His stomach contracted painfully and he wretched. A war was waging inside of him as his awakening body tried to throw-up the human flesh he had devoured and his undead instincts fought to keep it down. Groaning, Rick crumbled forwards, grinding his throbbing head into the blood soaked ground. His body shook violently and he wretched again. That time he did throw-up.
The pounding in his chest was growing stronger, beating against his eardrums and humming through his veins. His stomach was heaving still and blood and flesh spilled from his open mouth.
The blood no longer tasted wonderful, the salty tang no longer as sweet as honey, and the chunks of flesh his reason for existing. It had turned foul and repulsive on his tongue, so bitter and horrific. His body did not stop until ever scrap and drop had been ejected from his stomach.
When it was over, Rick collapsed sideways onto his back, exhausted. He lay there, gasping for breath, his hand lying limply over his chest. The stars glinted down at him and he became aware of the beating heart beneath his palm. He blinked and the hunger and rage vanished as if by magic, his instincts stopped screaming at him and he could suddenly think clearly and logically.
Alive, he was alive.
Emotions overwhelmed him and he let out a shaking, manic laugh - the stars shining down at him. But then reality of what he had just done had hit him and the laughter died in his throat. Burning tears filled his eyes, blinding him, and huge, horrified sobs wracked his body.
Even now, when Rick thought back to that moment, he couldn’t make sense of how long he had laid there, sobbing and spiralling into despair – it could have been five minutes or five hours. But what he was sure of was that it had been Daryl’s presence that had dragged him out of that pit.
Daryl had cursed him but saved him. The man was his Achilles heel but also his reason for living. He was his everything – good and bad – simple and complex.
Rick opened his eyes and looked up at the dark ceiling of the bedroom. He listened to Daryl’s steady breathing close to his side and memorised the way he could feel warmth coming off the other man even though they weren’t touching.
Slowly, Rick turning his head on the pillow and looked sideways at Daryl. The red-neck looked so much younger when he slept, face smooth of worry lines. He looked...vulnerable. Rick rolled onto his side, away from Daryl. Their lives were so fragile, their happiness so easily distinguished. Rick felt a lump rise in his throat and he bit his bottom lip. He used to think he knew what true fear was, but now he realised it was this, the hollow ache in his gut – the knowledge that at any moment he could lose Daryl.
Cautiously, not wanting to wake the other man, Rick pulled back the bed covers and slipped out of bed. He slid his bare feet into his boots as he passed and picked up the soft brown leather jacket he had been given.
Quieting, he left the bedroom and moved through the house to the front door. He needed fresh air to clear his head. Pulling on the jacket over his naked torso – he was wearing loose sweat pants on his bottom half – he slid back the chain and opened the door.
Cool night air ghosted over his skin as he stepped outside and closed the door softly behind him. He shivered, zipping up the jacket and bury his hands into his armpits. There was a small open porch attached to the front of the house and Rick stepped to its edge, leaning against the metal railings. He closed his eyes and let his body temperature gradually drop. As it did, an odd sense of calm came over him and he let out his breath slowly.
“Can’t sleep?”
Rick jumped, opening his eyes to see Michael standing in front of the house. The man was fully dressed and held a rifle loosely in his hands.
“What are you doing here?” Rick asked, slightly unnerved.
Michael took a step closer and answered simply, “I’m on patrol. You didn’t answer my question.”
Rick awkwardly shuffled his feet, eyeing the man. Daryl trusted him, liked him even – which was praise indeed coming from the frosty red-neck – but Rick was still unsure.
Michael must have seen the suspicion pass across his face for he said, “You don’t have to be afraid of me, Rick.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” Rick retorted, “I’m just...”
“I know what you’ve been through,” Michael said, moving up the short garden path to join Rick on the wooden porch, “Daryl told me about that place – Woodberry – and the Governor guy.”
“If he told you than you get why I’m careful,” Rick said, unable to stop his eyes from darting down to the rifle. Michael followed his gaze and casually put the gun down, propping it up against the wall of the house.
“Are you happy here, Rick?”
Rick was thrown by the question for a moment. Was he happy? He was content, sure, but was he happy? It had been so long since he had felt true, unblemished happiness that he wondered if he would even know it if he felt it again.
“Daryl is,” Rick answered uneasily, pushing his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket, “and if he’s happy than so am I.”
Michael snorted and a strange look passed across his face, “is that the truth?”
Rick fixed Michael with his clear blue eyes and said defensively, “Yes. I love Daryl.”
“I have no doubts over that,” Michael said quickly, shrugging his broad shoulders, “the way Daryl looks at you speaks louder than any words ever could. Even when you were a walker he still looked at you in that way.”
“In what way?”
“In the way that says you’re his whole world. He would do anything for you.”
Rick felt his cheeks go slightly red and he looked down at the floor, unsure of what to say in response.
“Look, Rick, you and Daryl are welcome here as long as you want. Hell, I want you to stay. This town could use a sheriff to keep it inline.”
Rick felt a faint smile tug at his lips. He could see why Daryl liked the man. Maybe it was time he put his trust in that more rather than trying to find it himself. “Thank you,” he said, feeling sheepish.
Michael nodded, reaching out and laying a hand on his shoulder.
“Think it over,” he told Rick, though he sounded like he already knew the answer he would get. He gave Rick’s shoulder a pat before dropping his hand and stepping back.
Rick watched Michael leave, picking up his gun as he went. The man didn’t look back as he resumed his patrol. Sighing, Rick too turned around and went back into the house. When he pushed open the bedroom door, he was surprised to find Daryl awake and sitting up in bed, waiting for him.
“Hey,” Rick said awkwardly, feeling guilty he had been caught wandering around at night.
“Hey yourself,” Daryl muttered, folding his arms across his chest, “where have you been?”
Rick shrugged off his jacket and kicked off his boots.
“I couldn’t sleep, went and got a little fresh air.”
He walked around the bed to his side and slipped back beneath the warm covers.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, leaning back against the headboard and watching Daryl out of the corner of his eye.
“About what?” asked the red-neck.
“About this place, about Michael, about the future.”
Daryl huffed, rubbing a hand over his face, “that’s heavy stuff for this time of night. No wonder you needed some fresh air.”
Rick chuckled, scooting closer to Daryl in the large bed and pressing a chaste kiss to the man’s bare shoulder.
“I’ve decided that – as long as you want to – we should stay here.”
Daryl’s eyes widened slightly and Rick saw the flicker of hope dance across them – he had been right then about Daryl being happy here.
“You’re serious?” the red-neck asked, turning around to face Rick properly, “what made you change your mind?”
Rick hesitated, remembering what Michael had just said about the way Daryl looked at him. “You trust me, don’t you, Daryl?”
Daryl frowned at him, confused, but answered anyway, “Yeah, of course, with all I’ve got.”
“Good,” Rick murmured, leaning forwards and pressing a soft kiss to the man’s lips, “then I think it’s about time I repaid that trust by following your instincts for once.”
“This place isn’t like the others, Rick,” Daryl reassured him, a hint of excitement in his voice, “it’s good and honest. We can build a life here, you’ll see. We can trust Michael.”
Rick wrapped his arms around Daryl and drew him close.
“We can try,” the ex-sheriff promised, his breath ruffling Daryl’s hair, “I love you.”
Daryl tilted his head back and kissed Rick passionately.
“I love you too,” he hesitated briefly then added, “thank you.”
Rick smiled, kissing Daryl’s forehead, “you’re my whole world, Daryl, you see that, don’t you?”
“I’m beginning to,” said Daryl, wrapping his arms around Rick’s back. The pair shifted down until they were lying facing one another, legs tangled beneath the sheets and so close their breath mingled.
“So, we’re really staying here?” Daryl asked, needing to hear Rick say it for real.
“Yes,” Rick told him gently, stroking a hand up Daryl’s side, making him shiver, “we’re staying.”
Daryl grinned, pressing a quick kiss to Rick’s lips but when the ex-sheriff tried to deep it, he pulled back. Rick frowned at him and Daryl grinned, “I can’t wait to tell Michael.”
Snorting, Rick caught hold of Daryl’s chin and drew their mouth back together.
“Something tells me he won’t be that surprised,” he murmured against Daryl’s lips, “now, can you stop thinking about Michael and kiss me?”
“Jealous?” Daryl laughed, his hands running up Rick’s back and one slipping into his wavy chair.
“Not at all,” Rick growled, rolling on top of Daryl and teasing out a groan from the red-neck with a roll of his hips.
“Liar,” Daryl gasped, pulling Rick’s head back down and catching his lips in a searing kiss.
Rick found he didn’t have the willpower to continue the teasing argument. Instead, he cupped Daryl’s face in his hand and tried to pour everything he had into their kiss - to try and make Daryl understand just how much he loved him, how much he meant to him, how much he needed him. But he shouldn’t have worried, for Daryl already knew all of that, because he felt it too.
Perhaps this was the start of something good, Rick thought as he let himself become lost in kissing Daryl, perhaps now they could be happy and remember what it was like to live. And if Rick had learnt one thing, it was that life should never be taken for granted and if you had someone to share it with then, well, you were already halfway there.