Chapter Text
'We need a new place, somewhere we can settle semi-permanently. We're safe here for now, but it's not going to last. Daryl, you know I hate havin' to ask you...'
'I got it.'
He had promised Rick. Because of that, Daryl would not accept defeat. The people he now fondly called his pack needed him to succeed. He wasn't going to return with his tail tucked between his legs, carrying the bad news that he hadn't found them a new home. The pack needed security, their damaged bodies needing to heal and rest. They needed food. They needed water. But first, Daryl needed to pull through and find them a roof for over their heads and, at the very least, four stable walls so they didn't have to look over their shoulder in fear. He could at least do this and fulfill his duty towards his pack and his leader.
His therian nature was a warm companion in his mind, his Coyote willing him his strength as Daryl's body ached, stressed from one disastrous situation after another. He was lucky to have escaped Terminus without getting shot, but his body still wore the beating from the Claimers just prior to that. When he moved the wrong way, he could feel the skin around his side grow tight and throb with a bruise that had to have been left by the size 11 boot that had connected there about a time or two that night. A fuckin' cheap shot from Lenny that had kept him down so he couldn't reach his packmates in their time of need. He couldn't help the quiet growl that escaped him, lips curling over his teeth in a jaw-clenched snarl. The scabs on his face clinched as his expression twisted from indifference to anger and fear. He hadn't noticed that he was reacting to the residual emotions, his breath coming in irate huffs, until Michonne placed a hand on his arm. He paused, body tensing instinctively, crossbow aim falling to the ground as his left hand went to his knife. Her strong voice stopped him with a quick snap of his name.
“'m sorry.” He grumbled and relaxed under the woman's touch. She only grunted, but it was enough for Daryl to know it was forgotten. They continued to follow the winding, paved road, eyes and ears open to the thick forests on either side. The sun overhead beat down on his back, providing him with warmth that soothed the ache in his bones, and walking against the wind allowed cool air to blow on his sweaty face and sweep his hair back. He righted his crossbow, having let it go lax in his hands the more he allowed his mind to wander.
Still, he couldn't shake the memory of Rick's struggle with Joe – of Rick biting into the jugular of the man – that inevitably tailed the memory of Larry's attempt to beat him down. They both had had a front row fucking seat as they had watched Rick lose all sense of his humanity, face more animal than man. His nostrils flared, narrowed eyes flashing ice blue under the crescent moon and a low growl rumbling deep in his throat, as his teeth sank into a man's neck until blood spurted over his mouth and beard, warm blood that dripped onto his trembling, clenched hands in the collar of Joe's jacket. It was a savage bite, coming back with a mouthful of flesh and the wound gushing from a severed artery. A feral bite, completely wild and lacking human decency.
Sitting beside Rick against that beat up old car, Daryl would have just bet that Rick wasn't telling him something. There seemed to be more wrinkles around the older man's eyes, making him look heavy with his own thoughts. Daryl had extended a wet cloth for the caked blood on his beard, but it was also a silent reminder that he was right here for Rick if he needed to talk.It was a lot for the therian to expect, given the utter shame he felt at joining Joe and his crew, but as always, Rick surprised him again and forgave him, calling him his brother. It distracted him well from the questions flying around his head, and Daryl had diverted his eyes, unsure how to react.
He returned to the present, and thinking about it now, Daryl felt a sense of emptiness at being called a brother to Rick. Daryl understood that what he was feeling was underwhelmed. This man who had made such an impact had just extended his hand in brotherhood. Daryl was now considered family - as close as something he could finally call his pack. It was finally given to him and he now had a place, even amongst humans, even Rick, who'd never understand his level of loyalty. He should feel elated, but he couldn't help wanting something more from this human.
Daryl and Michonne walked side by side, gravel crunching under their feet as they shared a comfortable silence. They were lucky to not find any walkers along the way, but Daryl was used to things turning for the worse. It was definitely a surprise when he could see a large welcoming sign up ahead. He looked towards Michonne, and though the woman was just like him and could carry a short conversation with a few looks and brief nods, he simply had to ask.
“Wanna check the farm out? If anythin' we can scavenge anythin' we find and bring it back.” They stopped where they were, a good mile or two away from the sign just to make a decision. He knew the risks of walking into possibly claimed territory, and he was sure Michonne was mulling over those same risks herself.
"We should," Michonne murmured, glancing at Daryl out of the corner of her eye before drawing her sword and moving forward. Anymore, where there was civilization there were bound to be Walkers, and she wanted no surprises. With wary but confident steps, Michonne moved forward, knowing Daryl would be right beside her.
As they neared the sign, Michonne's eyes scanned the peeling and sun faded paint on the imprinted, weather cracked wood. It was hard to say what the colors had once been, but despite some foliage overgrowth and the unkempt state of the wood, it was still possible to read the words, 'Welcome to Raven Hollow Plantation.'
Michonne paused just long enough to read the sign and take in the slow reclamation of the artifact by nature before turning and making her way down the dirt, two track lane to their right. It was a long walk and the quiet woman found herself grateful that she and Daryl worked so very well together. Neither of them were much for words and both of them were ruthless if need be which definitely made them the best team for this job. It helped, of course, that she had personal experience with therianthropes, therians by common name, and didn't adhere to the social norms surrounding them. She couldn't bring herself to fear them. They were still as human as she was, even in their animal forms.
Her boyfriend Mike had been blessed with the secondary form of a jaguar, and she could still remember the smooth bristles of his fur coat beneath her fingers as if she had stroked a hand over his back just last night. He'd been a handful as far as boyfriends went, always with a chip on his shoulder and the urge to prove himself every bit as good as the domestic-shifters, but she'd loved him regardless. She'd been eager to find out what shape her precious little Andre might have become…if things hadn't gone down in flames so fast it'd made her head spin.
The slowing of Daryl's steps beside her urged her own steps into a slower pace. Just up ahead, a massive concrete fence was becoming visible through the overgrown foliage. From what she could tell, it looked like the gate was shut.
Daryl paused at the iron wrought entrance, squinting to the left and right of it to come to a rough estimate at the size of the thing. The black metal only went so far, but the plantation was protected with nearly a foot's width of moss covered concrete farther than his eye could see. Slinging his crossbow over his back, he approached the double gates, roughly pushing and pulling the gate back and forth. The iron clanged together, shaking dirt and dry leaves over his head and to the ground around him, but refused to budge anymore. He stepped back with a tight scowl.
“S'locked tight,” he grunted and gave the gated door a firm kick just in case. The latch remained unyielding, and Daryl dipped back, cursing under his breath as the shockwave shot up his leg. It only seemed to scare the black birds in the trees, making Daryl look up as they escaped their camouflage in the shadowed treetops. He turned to Michonne, scowling again at the muted amusement that replaced the seriousness that aged her face. He eventually huffed. It was definitely a dumb decision urged on by frustration that had him attempting to kick the shit out of a couple of iron bars. “'less ya got a better idea stocked in them dreads somewhere, ya best wipe that look off yer face.”
Michonne watched Daryl tilt his chin down, failing to hide the upward twitch on the corner of his lips, and grinned in a flash of bright white teeth. She was always highly amused by his occasional and nearly always pathetic attempts at machoism. After all, she knew him better than that now. Unperturbed by his empty threat, she moved in closer herself and sheathed her sword. Her hands and arms were much more slender than Daryl's, allowing her to work her hands through the tightly placed bars until she could run her fingers over the latch plated to the inside of the gate.
"We'll need bolt cutters," she announced after a moment or two of getting a mental picture of the latch and how it worked through feel. "If we cut the padlock, we'll spare the gate and the latch. Maybe we should head back and inform the others. Let Rick come check it out. If it's worth it, we can find a new padlock and some bolt cutters in one of the garages we skipped back at base."
A small smile slipped to his lips while Michonne's back was turned, impossible to resist whenever he got the silent woman to show more emotion than usual. Even though it wasn't intentional, he liked the reaction his sometimes crude words got him, watching her as he restlessly moved from one foot to the other.
“S'ppose that's a good idea.” He murmured as his fingers prodded between the gates and curled downwards towards the latch. They brushed on the hanging padlock, and he grunted in acknowledgment. Suggesting that Rick should come along, however, he was little more hesitant to agree. They had been walking out in one direction for the better part of two hours, and though Rick was by no means weak, his gait was still obviously uneven from the bullet he had taken to the leg on that horrible day. The risk of having the other man out here when they didn't know a thing about the threat that could lie beyond the wall was one he wasn't so willing to take.
On the other hand, a third pair of eyes would be beneficial, and Rick was the most capable. He trusted that one man to have his back above all others and guard it well. They were an unbeatable team, and if it did turn out they had to clear the plantation, there wasn't anyone else he'd rather have by his side in combat. Eventually, he gave a short nod. Either way, telling the pack would also mean having to tell Rick, and the other man would be hard to move once his mind was set. He'd want to go regardless of whatever Daryl said, willing to put his life in danger for the sake of his family. “Guess we should head back now, then. No use lookin' fer another way in if we wanna make a grand entrance through the front door.”
Pulling her arms from the fence, Michonne took a step back and cocked a hip. She folded her arms over her chest and raised her eyes to the tree lined lane beyond the barricade. It looked peaceful and safe. She just hoped that there weren't already people in there taking advantage of that safety and tranquility. "Yeah. If we move our asses we'll make it back to base before dark and can be out here first thing in the morning."
With one last assessing glance over the huge stone archway that curved over the double gate, Michonne nodded. They needed this. It would be worth almost any risk to have the kind of stability a real home gave to the lives of those who lived within it again. Maybe their luck would finally turn, and they could have a little peace behind this sturdy walls. Then she turned on her heel and faced Daryl. "Let's go."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
It was getting late.
Rick fidgeted in his seat on the ratty, bloodstained sofa and dropped his hand from his chin. Daryl and Michonne had been gone for most of the day and with every passing hour Rick was becoming more and more uncomfortable without them nearby. Pushing himself to his feet and pacing to the front window, he lifted cautious fingers to gently pull a small portion of the curtain aside. Sharp blue eyes searched over and then beyond the overgrown yard and driveway of the small one story rural home they'd holed up in just over a week ago. He really didn't like it when his people were out of his sight anymore, let alone for a whole day. It was damn near dusk and still there was no sign of Daryl and Michonne. It made him antsy. It made his skin crawl. It definitely made the canine in him want loose. Family members were missing, and he was standing here at the window, longing to see them come out of the forest on the other side of the dirt road when he could be out there nose to the ground and actively looking for them.
With a deep sigh, Rick let the curtain fall and suppressed the urge to truly start pacing. It was even harder to stop the low grumbling growl that threatened to spill from his throat. He was glad he did when, not a moment later, Maggie came around the corner from the hallway, took one look at him and then let her shoulders slump.
"Rick. They're fine. I'm sure they're practically at the door step. Stop worryin' so much before y'give yerself an ulcer!"
The former deputy offered her a half grin, but his eyes flickered back to the window again without conscious thought.
"I know. I know," he murmured and turned to fully face her. She was a pretty thing, lovely as any Southern Belle could ever be. Glenn was a lucky man though Rick really felt no envy of him. After Lori, despite all of their problems, Rick wasn't sure he could fall in love with another woman. He would always think of her and probably try to catch glimpses of her in the unlucky lady's features like he had just caught himself doing now with Maggie.
Rick let his eyes drop as a little fissure of loneliness rent his heart. Lori had been easy to love at first, but she had been entirely human. She'd done better at meeting Rick's needs than most humans who had chosen to marry a therian, but in the end she'd yearned for a more compatible partner. She'd never sought one out until she'd thought he was good and dead, but even that was a small consolation. Things were even harder these days. Therians were rare before the apocalypse. Now there was only him and Daryl. At least as far as he knew. This time the fission of emotion in his heart was an ache of regret.
When he'd turned up at the Quarry Camp, Lori had made it clear that the majority of the group there weren't fond of therians. She'd felt it best that Rick keep his canine-self hidden away so that she, Rick and Carl wouldn't be ostracized from the group in the same fashion as the unstable Dixon brothers. For Carl's sake, Rick had been inclined to agree, but as time had passed, it had become more and more of burden and less and less possible to tell his people who he really was. He would always be the same Rick Grimes, former Sheriff's deputy of King County, but they still didn't know the real him. The one that wanted nothing more than to shift shape and kick up his heels for the first time in years every time he saw Daryl take the form of his Coyote. And poor Daryl, who now labored under the impression that he was the last of his kind when a closer brother than he knew stood at his side every day, seemed more and more lost as time passed. He was a part of the group but not, staying at their family's periphery instead of at its very center where he belonged. Rick was starting to hate himself just a little bit for not manning up and at least confiding in his right hand man that he was more than he seemed. Problem was, Daryl probably wouldn't take too kindly to having been lied to throughout their entire partnership. Just thinking about it all was weighing him down, so he turned his attention back to Maggie, the young woman having been miraculously patient with his long, thoughtful silence. "I just hate havin' to ask them to do this over and over."
"You askin' is all just for you, and you know it. They're more like volunteers," Maggie dismissed and gave him a quick hug which he belatedly returned. She was already pulling away by the time he'd responded. Rick sighed through his nose as his hands fell to his sides.
"Still don't mean I have to like it," he murmured and then started at the sound of boots on the porch, hand flying to his Colt revolver where it was holstered to his hip. One glance showed that Maggie already had her weapon drawn and together they moved toward the door until Rick could peer through the hazy peephole. Relief absolutely flooded him when he saw the crown of Daryl's dark head. The front door unlocked and swung open easily under Rick's deft and eager fingers.
Daryl jumped at how quickly the door flew open, eyes snapping to Rick who stood in the open entrance. He took one look into that welcoming face before patting the man on the chest heavily. The body underneath his hand was firm and took some energy to push so he could slip past and into the comfort of their temporary safe house, shyly dropping his eyes as he brushed against Rick on his way through the small doorway. “'Sup, man?”
It was a lousy greeting, but it was the best he could do. He was looking forward to lying on that grimy old couch and putting enough space between himself and Rick as to give himself a little breathing room after the intense look in those too blue eyes. Somehow, being under the other's soft gaze got him all flustered, pushing at an unrecognizable bubble of emotion that filled his chest.
He cleared his throat, meeting Michonne's eyes in a brief glance as she walked past him, leaving him alone with Rick in the dim entryway. “I got news fer the pack, if yer willin' to hear it.”
"Of course," Rick immediately acknowledged.
Daryl thought about waiting for the other man so they could walk back to the main room together, but it seemed too much like alpha bond-mates walking in side by side to greet the pack. It wasn't his place, so he instead chose to follow Michonne into the living room after an awkward nod to Rick.
Pack, Rick thought, feeling his heart swell on Daryl's voice over that word. He was entirely too amused – and if he were honest with himself no little bit touched – by the very wildside style labeling of their little family. But that's how he sees it, Rick reminded himself and fell into step behind the two, leaving Maggie, who had watched every exchange between the three strongest people in their group in studious silence, to latch the door back up.
"I hope it's good news," Rick quietly teased them.
"We wouldn't bother to tell you anything else," Michonne said over her shoulder and, instead of turning into the living room or even moving on into the kitchen, turned down another hallway, calling out to the others as she made her way from door to door with light knuckles.
Rick moved passed Daryl then and straight through the hallway. He came to a slow stop in the small kitchen before turning so that he could look at Daryl who moved even further into the kitchen as Rick finally asked, "Was it an easy run?" voice gone serious. Rick dipped his chin in an attempt to catch Daryl's eyes. The little movement was just one of the many gestures the two of them had found together that allowed them to communicate on levels beyond the spoken word. Rick was under no illusions. Part of the reason the two of them worked so well together was absolutely attributable to their other halves. That lonely, repentant ache in Rick's heart tightened just a little bit more, but he pressed on.
Daryl found himself meeting Rick's eyes for a second before instinct had him lowering his gaze submissively to the pack leader. Rick's very presence easily calmed him, and Daryl unconsciously moved a fraction closer. In a voice that was just loud enough for the other man to hear, he gruffly answered, “S'just a straight across walk, two hours tops.”
Simple words, but they were all the answer Rick needed. Without saying it out loud, Daryl had just told him that the run had been a cake walk, that they'd had no trouble at all, and that they'd found something promising. Rick nodded and brought a hand up to his chin while the other settled on his hip. Two hours out wasn't terribly far, but they were already far enough from Terminus that he doubted whatever of those demons that were left would be coming out even this far to find them. They'd left the place in an utter state of chaos. Rick didn't believe for a moment that they'd be able to rebuild their psychotic monarchy so quickly. If nothing else, Rick planned to have his own people safe and secure before the remaining people of Terminus had gained any traction.
"You look tired," he observed, hand falling from his chin to hang beside his thigh as his blue eyes wandered Daryl's tense shoulders and slightly hunched stance.
Daryl's shoulders did ache from the weight of his crossbow, and with a barely noticeable sigh, one that still made his side throb, he let the weapon sag in his arms. “I jus' wanna sit... How is everyone else holdin' up?”
"Fine. Everyone's fine. At least as much as they can be," Rick answered, though his mind was already churning with questions of his own. He wanted to know what Daryl and Michonne had found that had given Daryl that slight air of promise. Still, he kept his peace for the moment, knowing that Daryl would tell everyone at once, thus saving himself from having to repeat the news. It was typical of the other man not to want to waste words. Something Rick had found endearing, and that he was incredibly grateful for, from day one. "We're all a little hungrier than we'd like, but there's not much can be done about it today."
Food was running low. Daryl knew they were already having to ration just so they wouldn't have to feel the deep pangs of hunger any sooner. From over Rick's shoulder he could see their people walking into the kitchen, getting ready for the meeting. They looked better than last week, heads held high with renewed hope. It was the best Daryl could ask for in the amount of time they'd had to recuperate. The kid was the last to come in, grinning up at Daryl before he was hurried on and sat next to Carol and Judith at the table by Michonne. Just a week ago he'd seen the boy violently attacked. Sometimes it felt like just yesterday though Carl gave no outward indication either way. He forced himself to meet Rick's eyes and added, “How's Carl?”
Daryl would have to be stupid not to guess a man on top of his eldest child was what had set Rick off so many nights ago. In a way, he asked simply to know how Rick would react.
That was a loaded question. Rick twisted around just enough to glance at his son before shifting his weight back around to fully face Daryl again. Carl was preoccupied with talking to Michonne, and Daryl and Rick were far enough away from the table that he could be candid with the other man. When he spoke, it was with a lightheartedness that belied the roiling rage he kept firmly suppressed beneath a veneer of capable calm. "He's…better than I expect him to be. He talks to Michonne a lot. I'm grateful for that woman every minute of every day at this point. Don't know what I'd do with him without her."
Daryl hummed. He had nothing of worth to say to that, other than he simply agreed. Carl needed someone to talk to, and it turned out he didn't want that person to be his own dad. Understandable. Family was harder to talk to than most anyone else, especially given the circumstances. He eyed the young Grimes and his silent companion, again finding himself agreeing with everything Rick had said. He wouldn't have known what to do either if Carl had come to him looking for comfort.
Without thought, he touched Rick's arm then silently cursed himself for the bold move. However, he chose not to take back that hand when Rick expressed gratitude for his silent support in the form of a warm smile. A smile Daryl couldn't quite return. Ducking his head again, he licked over his dry lips nervously instead. Rick looked at him expectantly, gently urging Daryl to make his say with a tilt of his head in the direction of the table where their family had gathered, his eyes crinkling in amusement when Daryl's jaw tightened. The redneck felt the urge to retreat, so he let go and immediately found himself missing the warmth of Rick's skin against his palm.
He left Rick where he was standing, murmuring that the others were waiting for them, and took his place in the corner. Daryl was aware of his acceptance into the pack, yet still he couldn't bring himself to stand with them and feel like a part of them. In the end, his genetics would simply not allow him to and memories of his brother reminded him that he would always be considered dangerous and untrustworthy. The Coyote within him paced back and forth in the back of his skull as his emotions swirled unsteadily, agreeing with the ghosts of his family. Daryl tried to block it out, but it wasn't until Rick finally made his way over to the table that Daryl's thoughts were finally diverted.
The redneck waited for Michonne to say something, but she remained irritatingly silent. With his mind otherwise occupied his Coyote ceased his growling, padding back into the depths of Daryl's consciousness completely. Daryl unwound from his tense position against the wall, unlacing his arms from in front of his chest to hang loosely at his sides. He didn't know how to get everyone's attention, even as he moved out of his corner and approached the group.
“We found shelter a little ways out...” Daryl started and, when it seemed no one had heard, rapped his hand on the table, gruffly snarling, “Hey! I'm talkin'! Shit, the hell's a guy gotta do to spread a little light in over all'er worries?”
"Sorry, Daryl," Maggie murmured, sheepishly pulling her shoulders up a little and biting at her lower lip. "We didn't mean nothin'. We're just glad you guys made it back okay."
Michonne leaned back a little in her chair, letting her legs fall open wide. Her entire posture screamed of confidence. "You'll be even more so when we tell you what we found."
Daryl muttered to himself a bit, his whole attitude and appearance reminiscent of when they had first met him, but the annoyance he felt was a little more light-hearted than it would have been back then. He rolled his eyes, slitted blue landing on baby Judith who cooed and looked up at him with a happy grin. Lil' Asskicker didn't even seem fazed by the harshness of his voice.
Rick moved in closer, coming to a stop behind Carl. "Oh really?" he inquired, a small smile playing around his lips as he folded his arms and stared with intent interest at the back of Michonne's head certain she could feel his gaze. The woman, to her credit, didn't even look his way, choosing to ignore his unusual display of playfulness. It was good to see his people happy again. Good to see them in good enough moods to give each other a hard time in the age old fashion of close knit families. Turning his eyes up from the back of Michonne's head, Rick searched Daryl's face with a smirk. "Daryl?"
At Rick's prompting, Daryl felt the tension in his face relaxing. He loosely crossed his arms again in a self-comforting gesture as he worried the nail of his thumb over his knuckles. He thought about making them guess, but Carl looked like he was dying to hear the news, and Daryl could feel the vibrations of the boy jumping his leg under the table. He thought they had waited long enough when the boy whined, “Daryl, come on!”
Michonne was throwing him a look that said if he didn't say anything, she would, and from the looks of it at least half of the pack needed sleep. The redneck smirked, and finally gave in. “Think we found a deserted plantation ready for the takin'. Ain't look like it's been lived in fer a while. Gate's fully intact and walls runnin' fer miles to keep the place locked down tight. S'good 'nuff to keep us safe.” He felt quite proud of himself when the group perked up, Glenn specifically lifting his head from Maggie's shoulder.
The Asian stood and crossed the short distance between them to pat Daryl on the back. “Man, that is good news. Rick, we gotta scope it out...”
“Not all of us, though.” Carol butted in and rocked Judith as she fussed. She watched as Glenn continued to shower praise over the redneck until he'd become uncomfortable and started shifting shyly from foot to foot. In all honesty, the man deserved it, and she hated raining on everyone's parade. “It's not safe enough to stay here when we're all together, let alone when we're split up. Plus, if we find the plantation unsuitable it would be a waste to bring everyone out there.”
She wasn't surprised to see Daryl bristle and tense, his attention now zeroing in on her and her words, but Carol was just being realistic. She had always been one to avoid blinding herself with too much optimism, a trait deep seated in her even before she lost Sophia. Her expression saddened as reluctance and uncertainty clouded Daryl's features, but she wasn't going to be taking it back.
"Rick?" Maggie prompted after the room had fallen silent at Carol's words. "What do you think we should do?"
Rick lifted his eyes from the empty space he'd been contemplating on the table top. Bright blue eyes roved over the hopeful faces in front of him, finally landing on his daughter to his left. She looked up at him from beneath bright strawberry lashes, and he felt his heart melt a little. Part of him knew she wasn't really his, but she was Lori's, and that was what mattered most. His German Shepherd perked up at the back of his thoughts for just a moment as he gazed down at the miracle that was Judith Grimes and every protective instinct in him quivered.
"Rick?" Michonne prompted again, her voice just a touch softer than Maggie's had been.
The former deputy lifted his eyes from his daughter again, but instead of turning them on Michonne, Rick looked directly to Daryl, his second in command, his right hand and his most trusted advisor. He'd sought Daryl's council over much lesser things, but in this, the safety of their family, Rick trusted Daryl's opinion implicitly. Silently, he asked the other man with his eyes, 'Is this our best option? Should we risk it?' and prayed for an answering nod of acquiescence.
The Dixon could feel everyone's eyes on him, waiting for a response when Rick had looked to him. The attention made his cheeks burn, but the one gaze he focused on now came in the form of that confiding stare from their leader. The ball was thrown back in his court, the weight of the decision back on his shoulders.
They needed a home, somewhere that the pack could extend comfortably. The plantation would provide that easily, giving them each their own space while maintaining their closeness without stepping on each other's toes. The safety of the pack was his main priority and the place they had secured now was anything but safe. He took one look at the peeling wall paper and the creaky walls and thought back on that foot thick concrete that protected the plantation grounds. He met Rick's steady gaze, holding it as he tilted his chin down in a single nod. ''ts worth a shot.'
Rick's eyes immediately drifted back over every other face, making sure he still had all of their attention. "Daryl, Michonne and I will figure out how to vet this place. In the meantime, everyone should start thinkin' about packin'. It's pretty late." Rick settled one hand on Carl's shoulder and gave the thin muscle there a firm squeeze. "Everyone should try and get some sleep tonight. We'll talk again some more tomorrow morning."
Michonne was the first to her feet. "Sorry, boys. Carl and I have a comic book date tonight. You two are on your own."
Shaking his head, Rick watched as she turned on her heel and all but flounced out of the room. Carl glanced up at his dad for one brief moment and then scrambled after her, calling out something about first dibs on some issue or another. Rick didn't bother to try and figure it out. Carol was getting to her feet and as soon as she'd balanced Judith more comfortably in her arms, Rick moved in to cradle the back of his little girl's head and press a kiss to her forehead. Judith squirmed hard in Carol's grip and made the most ridiculous scrunchy face Rick had ever seen.
"Don't like daddy's beard, huh?" he murmured and stroked her soft hair once before taking a step back. "Thank you, Carol. For lookin' after her."
"Think nothing of it, Rick,” Carol said, looking up at Rick. As the others were leaving around her, she leaned in, skirting her eyes towards Daryl who waited by the kitchen entrance. She was still a little worried about them becoming vulnerable again, and though they all moved together like a well-oiled machine, Walkers were not exactly what she was concerned about. She had not met the men Daryl had fell in with before reuniting with the group, but she had seen what bad people could really do when she arrived at Terminus and saw the tired and broken looks on her peoples' faces.
Beth was still out there, and no one knew who had taken her. Maggie was holding up, putting on strong front for everyone, but Carol doubted anyone had forgotten or really even put her absence behind them. Those people were still around and there had to be even more who were just like them. She didn't want to be the pessimist, but someone had to. Someone had to bring up these issues otherwise they might be ignored and allowed to evolve into even larger problems. Before Rick could follow Daryl, she stopped him by taking another step towards his retreating figure. “Think this through, Rick. I trust Daryl, I do. Trust him with my life. But those people out there...” She shook her head, not sure how to go on with that.
Daryl overheard, giving in to the habit of shoving the flesh of his thumb between his teeth. “We're not safe here neither,” he grumbled around his finger. “We could wait here just fer those same people to find us 'n kill us while we sleep. We're sheep sittin' out in the open waitin' fer the big bad wolf ta take us down or scatter us in the wind. Rick.” With that Daryl walked out of the kitchen, expecting the ex-cop to follow.
Carol sighed, her posture sagging once the irate male made his exit. “Didn' mean to offend him...” She sighed again and nodded at Rick, pasting on a sad smile. She would apologize to Daryl in the morning before he leaves. “Go on and talk to him. Looks like he could use your company.”
With a soft pat to Carol's shoulder in acknowledgement of her wise words, Rick turned and followed Daryl out the door. The hunter was already leaning against one of the covered porch's support posts when Rick joined him in the cool air of late evening. Daryl was standing with one foot on the porch itself though most of his weight was borne on the other one where he'd planted it on the next step down and looking for all the world like he needed a cigarette. His hair was a windblown mess and his facial scruff was thicker than normal, given that the man hadn't had the opportunity to shave in the last few days. That was one thing Rick envied of Daryl's many skills. Man knew how to shave damn well with that hunting knife of his.
"Carol didn't mean anythang by what she said, Daryl," Rick murmured, moving over to lean his shoulder against the support post opposite the one supporting Daryl on the other side of the step. Daryl shifted uncomfortably and Rick felt his German Shepherd stir for the second time that evening. It was…comforting to know that his other half was still with him despite how much he'd repressed his second nature over the last few years. At the moment, his Shepherd was focusing on Daryl, and Rick found he felt a bit of comfort in that too. It wasn't uncommon, or at least it hadn't been before the Turn, for therians to simply not get along because of their secondary shapes not liking each other, and Rick was beyond grateful that he and Daryl got on so well. Tonight, however, he felt a small, cold curl of dread spiral up from the bottom of his stomach. Daryl was suffering alone, even though he didn't have to be, and Rick was too chicken shit scared of the other man's possible reaction to do anything about it. Though in his defense, he honestly couldn't afford a tattling explosion from the once-short-tempered man, and he was sure to get one if Daryl ever found out the man he thought he could trust had been lying to him from the very beginning.
“Yeah, well. Woman best learn how to shut 'er mouth.” He didn't mean any word of it, but those were the words that came easiest to him as he stood outside, tugging his vest closer around him against the gusts of wind, fuming silently. The anger was displaced, and he knew that, but he just didn't like how easy it was to put down this achievement. He wasn't looking to make anyone proud, but he had just got that from the pack. The Coyote in him had yipped in quiet delight, thin tail perking at all the approval. He should maybe have been surprised at his own words, but his canine was just as touchy, if not more so, when it came to belittlement.
Daryl slouched, and sat on the porch, kicking his legs out carefully so he wouldn't accidentally knock over his weapon propped up on the porch. His back was facing the yard, allowing him to merely listen for any disturbances beyond the wind. It gave him enough peace of mind to focus on his leader that Rick was there to watch over his shoulder as they discussed this latest turn of events. He studied the man and again, his Coyote pushed forward in his consciousness. He didn't understand the animal's pull, but given how powerful it was most days Daryl was starting to believe all that business about bonding, two therians coming together as one. It was a myth, so far as he'd ever been able to tell, though every shifter he'd ever met had still been looking forward to finding that special connection in their life, to feeling their mate's emotions filtering through a mental and emotional rapport that allowed their shared love and devotion to caress every bone, muscle fiber, cell, thought and emotion in their being. Sadly, it was something that could supposedly only happen with one other therian in a lifetime.
All of that mystic crap had been well and good when he'd been listening to other shifters natter on about it, but a therian imprinting like that on a human? It rarely happened between two therians, so rarely most gave up on the notion without even trying to find their bondmate and committed to the first willing therian they found. It had never happened between a therian and a human except in fiction. Merle had told him not to be stupid and to stop readin' the romance crap his girlfriends brought to the Dixon household once when he was young. Daryl hadn't asked a second time given the really nasty tone Merle had taken with him that once. So, really, he couldn't be imprinting on Rick. The Coyote had to be interested in something else, and Daryl wanted to know what.
He could hear his Coyote's whine echoing between his ears, the pull to be near another therian strong as he continued to share space with Rick. The Coyote was always very awake when they were together, shuffling for approval if not just Rick's undivided attention. For once, Daryl gave in to his feeling of isolation. The animal had mistaken a human for one of its own, and though the creature was very smart, he had become desperate for the companionship only another shifter could provide. Rick shone with those qualities. He had the mentality of a fair pack leader and had taken Daryl in as his right hand without a second thought. His instincts were nearly as honed as Daryl's, the man easily reading his surroundings and the people around him.
But Rick was not a shifter. If he had been, Daryl had no doubt Rick would have changed any number of times for the good of his people and helped to protect the pack in his animal form right alongside Daryl. The world had changed and right now it fitted the therians' and their natural affinity for survival, not these humans with their clumsy, loud steps that so easily gave them away and their limited ability to hunt efficiently. He had known Rick Grimes for at least three years now. No one could hold off that long without Daryl noticing the beast.
Rick hadn't said anything yet, but he moved from his place in front of Daryl to take his side, settling his ass on the top step. He faced the open area, sharp blue eyes darting around even though his human sight should be weak now that it was near dark. Unlike the greenery around them, the house's yard was very dry, contrasting with the other foliage in shades of dusty brown and yellow. It was easy, at least for Daryl had he been looking, to see about eighty feet around them.
Daryl kept searching Rick's face, trying to puzzle out the thoughts that must be running through his head. He shifted again, unconsciously turning his body towards Rick and moving an inch closer, enough to startle Rick out of his mental tangent and loose observations of their surroundings.
“What do y'wanna know?” His words scratched in the lower register of his voice, the rasp making him work his dry tongue around in his mouth before wetting his chapped lips. He must've looked as bad as he felt right now and with a little vanity, Daryl found himself disappointed with his appearance during the few chances he got to be truly alone with his pack leader was always so horribly run down. He rubbed his stubbled chin on his shoulder timidly, this time dropping his eyes to the porch floor as he said, “C'mon, man. So you can head up fer some sleep. I can take first watch on my own.”
Realizing that he'd been staring from the moment Daryl had shifted closer to him, Rick jerked his gaze down to the weathered porch step between his well-worn boots. It wasn't the first time his German Shepherd had stealthily wrested control of Rick's conscious mind enough to drink in all that was Daryl Dixon, in Coyote form or not. Part of him wanted to apologize for having made Daryl feel so obviously self-conscious about himself. Another part of him, the part he didn't like to admit to, wanted to pretend that that moment, like a fair few others in the recent past, had never happened.
"Nah, Daryl. You're exhausted. Even a blind man could see it," Rick responded and rubbed his calloused palms together before resting them on his knees and stretching some of the stiffness out of his right leg. That gunshot wound from that last horrible day at the prison was healing much more slowly than it should have, but without proper nutrition and rest and with the amount of stress Rick found himself saddled with on a daily basis he wasn't overly surprised. His thigh twinged, and he was only just barely successful in suppressing the wince that sharp, shooting pain brought with it. "I'd like to know as much as you can tell me about this plantation, then I want us to come up with a game plan. After that, you're goin' to bed while I finish out first watch."
Rick's tone brooked no argument, but the look he slid the hunter out of the corner of his eye was searching. The last thing he wanted was to alienate Daryl through anything that might have seemed too dominating. Therians, especially those with secondary shapes that were wild species, tended not to take too kindly to overbearing authority. Merle and his Wolf had been a perfect example, railing against society like a rabid animal in either form.
The Dixon glowered at so suddenly being dismissed. He crossed his arms more firmly, shoulders pulled up tight as he planted his feet more firmly on the floor. “I'm not fuckin' movin'. I said I'd take first watch, yer decision whether ya stay or go when we're done.”
He could feel his Coyote provoked along with him and it took everything within him not to stake his claim on the porch and send Rick back with the pack. He stared Rick down, chewing on the chapped skin of his lips and firmly held his ground. When the head male sighed and eventually dropped his chin in a reluctant but conceding gesture the therian finally relaxed.
"Okay, Daryl," Rick murmured his tone placating. "Okay."
It looked like both of them would be finishing out first watch. Stubborn as Daryl was Rick didn't think he'd be able to persuade the redneck otherwise. Honestly, he really didn't mind the company. He had honestly found he never minded Daryl's company anyway. "So, tell me what you're thinkin' we'll need and need to do."
TBC…