Quick Author's Note before we get started: This story wasn't beta'ed, so please excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes. There will be a second chapter, at some point. I hope you enjoy what I've come up with, though this is my first fanfiction with The Walking Dead. Feel free to point out any major mistakes!

They always come together like this. Angry, desperate and scared. Like two storms violently clashing against each other, combining their energy, their very emotions. Rick could almost feel the air around them vibrating, as if simply being close to them was enough to make it move.

Never had he felt anything like this in his entire life.

His love for Lori had been gentle, soft, almost timid. He had loved her so much once, had wanted to protect her, and keep her safe. The love had turned into anger all too soon after the world had gone to hell. But he had never hated Lori, not really. It had taken Rick a while to understand that you needed to love someone deeply to be able to hate them.

And Rick hated Daryl every bit as much as he loved him. Hated the way the male got under his skin. How he made him go crazy with jealousy when he watched the hunter and Carol together, so familiar with each other in a way Rick envied. Hated how he made him worry whenever he couldn't keep an eye on the brunette male. And what he hated the most, what Rick could just barely stand without going insane, was how Daryl made him feel when they once more came together like this.

Teeth and tongues clashing in a merciless battle for dominance that neither of them was willing to lose. He was so close to him, Rick could inhale the scent he had become addicted to, Daryl's scent, mixed with the smell of earth, and sweat, and a hint of blood. Hunting. He was hunting, Rick thought, before he came to me.

Strong hands were running through his hair, curling into the fine locks and tugging, making Rick release a groan into the kiss, his own hands tightening on the slim hips he was gripping, desperately trying to anchor himself to reality, to the cold prison cell they were in, the cold concrete that pressed against his back as Daryl kept him pinned to the wall.

He hated how close they were, bodies firmly pressed together, and how distant he still felt to the beloved being in his arms. Daryl always had his back, of course. Was always there when Rick needed him, though he wasn't exactly sure just how Daryl managed to always be around when shit hit the fan. But even when they were just sitting outside, spending time with each other, Daryl never displayed the open affection and playfulness Rick witnessed whenever Carol was around him. And, despite knowing it was irrational, he hated Carol for it.

"Come on." Daryl hissed, eager hands now running along the former officer's sides, over his thighs and upwards again, brushing against his groin. "Need ya' now."

Rick wanted nothing more than to slow this down, to lay Daryl in his bed and worship every inch of his body with his hands and mouth. But that wasn't what the redneck wanted. He had tried it once, had tried to go slow. The result had been him on his back, Daryl on top, riding his length like a beast in heat, panting and grunting with every jerk of his hips. He couldn't say he hadn't enjoyed it without it being a straight out lie. Watching Daryl sliding up and down his length, slim hips turning and twisting as he quietly keened in pleasure was one of them most beautiful things the sheriff had ever seen in his life.

And yet, he couldn't help but want more, more of this feelings, more of this connection, more of Daryl, and everything the man was. He wanted to lay down with him at night, and wake up with him in the morning. He wanted to kiss Daryl goodbye when he went on a run, and embrace him when he returned. Wanted Daryl to be his in every way possible.

But Daryl didn't want anything but a quick fuck, rough and dirty. No feelings, no strings attached. Just sex, no foreplay, no cuddling.

"Get on your fuckin' knee's then." He growls, shoving at the other male and sending him tumbling back. "Bend over."

The redneck complied immediately, pushing down his pants hastily and moving to his hands and knee's, offering himself, or at least his body, to Rick. The older man wanted nothing more than to sink into him, wrap his arms around his chest and pull him upwards, plaster his chest against the soft skin of Daryl's back. Wanted to whisper words of love and adoration into his ear as he fucked him slowly, taking his time to show just how much Daryl mattered.

Slipping out of his own pants, Rick moved to kneel behind the tracker, calloused hands running over the firm mounds before him, taking just a second to appreciate the warmth and softness before sliding his fingers to the tight ring of muscles.

"Already did that, jus' get on with it." Daryl groans out, thrusting his hips backwards, demanding more. Rick can feel his chest clench with excitement and disappointment alike. The image of Daryl spread out on his bed, working his fingers into his opening, stretching himself none too gently was enough to make his cock twitch almost painfully. At the same time, the fact that this would be even shorter than usual make Rick want to scream. These moments were too short, too far between as it was. And now, he would have even less of Daryl than usually.

But he cannot deny this beautiful being anything, nothing at all, and so he spits in his hand, slicking himself up as much as possible, because he could never hurt Daryl, even when he wanted to, trembling at the impatient moan the male lets out. And then he's thrusting forward, sinking into the tight heat that is Daryl, letting out a harsh moan as he's fully sheeted.

"Fuck yes." The breathy words are enough to spur the sheriff into action, grabbing those slender hips and pounding into the tight channel, groaning and panting as he felt velvety walls clench around him, listened to the sounds of pleasure he was bringing forth from the chapped lips he had been kissing moments before.

"Ya like that?" He growls, suddenly angry once more, picking up his pace until its punishing, probably painful, and yet the only reaction he gets is more growls and moans. "Ya like when I fuck ya hard, Daryl? I know ya do, baby. Tell me how much ya love it."

"Fuck, love it so much, need it, fuckfuckfuckfuck..." Daryl replies, his voice low and raspy, hands clawing helplessly at the floor as Rick drives into him again and again. The concrete rips up their knee's, he can feel the blood rubbing against his skin, can feel the wound opening, deepening with ever surge of his hips. But he doesn't care, can't care, because no matter how good this feels, Rick is too angry to really enjoy it. The pain is a welcome sensation, making controlling himself so much easier. He's livid, feeling flames burning within his blood from the intensity of his emotions. Never had he been this angry.

Angry at himself for loving Daryl. Angry at Daryl for not loving him in return. Angry at the world, for becoming this way. Angry because he was so very alone.

Gripping at the brown strands of hair before him, he forces the others head back with a harsh tug. Rick isn't sure what he wants more, to fuck Daryl into the ground, or beat the living shit out of him, but decides that he's already in the middle of this, and he could beat him up later.

He feels the body below him starting to tremble, moans growing desperate as heated walls convulse around him. His tracker is close, so very close, while Rick can't seem to get anywhere near climax, and that serves only to infuriate him more. And then Daryl is coming, screaming out his pleasure, emptying himself onto the floor.

The former officer gives him a few minutes to come down from his high, enjoying the twitching muscle around his dick despite his inability to come. When he pulls back, brown eyes are watching him, Daryl having turned his head to look over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised in confusion at Rick's still hard member.

Rick shrugs it off, slowly raising himself up to stand, turning his head in search of his pants. He catches movement in the corner of his eyes, once more bringing his attention to the hunter. Daryl was now on his knee's, running a hand through his hair, not quite looking at him.

"Ya want me to.." He offers quietly. It surprises Rick. As odd as it was, Daryl had never sucked him off, never actually touched Rick with his hands neither, as if somehow by doing so, he would become what he called a 'fag'. It was almost laughable to Rick that the other man still insisted he wasn't gay, or at least bisexual, even when he had a dick buried balls deep in his ass. Still, Rick had fantasized about the tracker sucking him off an almost unsettling amount of times.

"Nah, 'm good." He replies anyway, because he knows if he allows himself this only once, he would never get enough of it. And then, if Daryl never offered again, he'd be stuck with another aching need he couldn't sooth.

Picking up his clothes, Rick starts to dress, about to pull his shirt on when Daryl halts his movements. He standing now, naked and beautiful, before him, grabbing the wrist of his right hand. He's still not looking at the sheriff, and its concerning. The redneck wasn't one to back down, or be intimidated, or fuck, even scared. But something was different about him, as he held on to Rick's wrist almost timidly, shifting his weight from one leg to the other in his uncertainty.

"Was it.. I mean.. Didn't ya.." He starts, but then breaks off, shaking his head almost in defeat. He doesn't need to continue, Rick knows exactly what Daryl is asking, because Rick knows Daryl well enough by now to finish even the shortest of his attempts at conversation. Not as good as Carol, he thinks, but well enough. His anger from before is suddenly blown away, almost overwhelmed by the vulnerability he was suddenly seeing.

"I did, Daryl. It ain't that." He quickly replies, brows furrowed as he looks at the man, trying to will him to look up, to be able to see those brown, brown eyes and maybe get at least a hint of what is going on. They never spent time with each other after these intimate moments, and if possible, the hunter was the first one out the door.

"Then why..?" The question is spoken so quietly Rick can barely hear it, but he does, and now he is forced to answer, can't pretend to not have heard.

"Just... a lot on my mind right now." He lies, shaking his head as he pulls his hand free from the weak grasp his wrist is encased in. He hated having to lie, but what else was he going to do? For whatever reason Daryl was being so open, Rick had no doubt that this new found tenderness would not last very long. After all, the other male had never made any indication of being interested in anything but their short, almost violent intimacy. He couldn't tell him of all the things he felt, for he would lose him, and that would surely be his death.

"Could'a told me ya weren't in the mood." Daryl grunted, now sounding almost insulted.

"I was in the mood." Rick huffed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I just couldn't.. couldn't focus."

"A'right." Was the only reply he was given, and then Daryl was dressed and out the door, leaving Rick behind. The former sheriff sighed as he finished pulling on his own clothing. He didn't know how much longer he'd be able to keep this up, this pain and emptiness he felt whenever Daryl left the dirty cell they used for their couplings. Maybe, the short period of lust and burning hot pleasure were no longer enough. A few months ago, they had seemed a fair trade for these moments with Daryl, but Rick felt that he was slowly coming to the breaking point, no longer able to tolerate having only Daryl's body, preferring to have nothing over just a little. Like an alcoholic refusing the last sip from the bottle of whiskey he found, knowing that it would never be enough, that it would only intensify the desperate yearning.

But he wasn't strong enough to end this, not just yet. He could take more, more pain, more abuse, more of everything. Just a little more.

Hunting had been a bitch.

Daryl had gotten caught in a storm, too far from the prison to turn back and seek shelter, forced to huddle under a tree and wait, hoping that no herd made its way past him until the rain stopped. He had been lucky, no walkers had crossed his way, but a big ass deer had made its way through the forest only a few feet away from the hunter once the storm had passed.

He had taken it down quickly, and then hauled ass back to the prison. He was long overdue, the sun already standing dangerously low. He had made it back just in time, just as the last rays of light threatened to fade away, running right into the arms of his best friend. Rick had been about to go out and look for Daryl himself by the looks of it. The man that normally stuck to farming these days was wearing his gun, a rare sight, making his intentions oh so clear.

"Daryl." Was all the man said as they stood before each other, crystal blue eyes looking him up and down, examining him. He never did understand why Rick always got so pissed when he was late, but he did understand that this rage was fueled by worry alone. Rick just cared, and didn't know how else to show it.

"'ey." He grunted, slowly laying the deer's corpse onto the floor before straightening again. "Sorry 'm late. Got caught up in the storm."

"Thought ya might have." Rick answered, running a hand through his hair, and Daryl couldn't help but watch the motion, the memory of how soft those locks were still prominent on his mind. He knew then and there that he'd need to see the other man tonight, not in his cell, or Daryl's, but in the cell he had come to think of as their cell.

"Mm." Not knowing what else to say, he did what he always did in these situations, give a shrug and a soft grunt. He wanted to tell Rick he wanted to see him, but he couldn't, not here, out in the open where anyone could see or overhear them, just by chance. No, this thing between them had to stay his dirty little secret, had to stay in the shadows, because he didn't know how he would handle anyone finding out, much less the entire group.

"Lets get the food inside. Carol's been waitin' for fresh meat." Rick finally says, bending down and hoisting the dead animal over his shoulder. Daryl wanted to protest, not wanting his officer to have to carry it, but before he could so much as open his mouth, Rick had already turned and walked off. He was left to trail behind him, catching up to the older male and walking into the cell block by his side.

He didn't know what it was that made him so eager to please Rick, but it was a burning need within, a need he couldn't begin to understand, much less refuse. He was ashamed of it, hearing his brother's words ringing in his ears whenever he caught himself looking at the former cop for a few second's too long.

"What are ya', little brother, a fag? Ya like it up the ass? Fuckin' disgusting. Come 'ere boy, I'll beat that right out of ya. Daddy didn' raise no fags."

It wasn't the beating he had received then that had hurt him most. It had been the disgust written all over his big brother's face, the way he looked at him, treated him from that moment on. He had wanted to please Meerle back then, too. But at some point, his needs had changed, evolved, and become more, and all of it because of Officer Friendly.

Daryl had been almost sickened when he didn't just want to please Rick by helping, by being his right hand, providing and caring for Judith, for the entire group. He couldn't pinpoint when exactly it had happened, but suddenly, Daryl had wanted to please the sheriff in any way possible.

Erotic dreams had plagued him for weeks, dreams of him and Rick pressed up against each other, cock's rubbing together as they kissed, hands roaming over heated skin. Dreams of him bending over while Rick fucked into him with abandon, over and over, until he was so full of his seed it leaked out of him with each thrust. He had almost gone insane.

One day, the sexual frustration, the anger at his own feelings, and the need had been too much to handle. After a fight over something he couldn't even recall, he had hauled Rick into the empty cell block, shoved him against the wall and proceeded to kissing the shit out of him.

This had led to many passionate, borderline aggressive moments between them and Daryl loved every second of it. It was the aftermath of the events that had him swallowing around a lump in his throat, needing desperately to get away and forget, forget how much he needed this, how much he depended on it. Couldn't admit that this was more than just sex, more than anything he had ever had, and nothing he had asked for.

But there it was, and he couldn't control it, desperation peaking once more for the hundredth time since their last fuck. And so, once they had brought back his game and made sure it would be made for dinner, Daryl moved away from them, brushing his hand against Rick's. This was how they'd let each other know what they wanted, and to meet him in their cell.

He could feel the other tensing beneath his touch, but then gave a quick nod, showing he had understood, and that he'd come. Daryl was tempted to go get a shower first, wash off the dirt that clung to his body, get rid of the smell of dead animal and the woods. But no, that would take much too long. He needed Rick, and he needed him now.

Only minutes later he found himself in the cell, waiting eagerly for his lover, crossbow leaned against the wall as he struggled out of his clothes. He had just dropped his pants to the floor along with his boxers when Rick entered.

Blue eyes widened at the sight they were given, and then narrowed down to slits. Daryl suddenly realized then that something was off about the sheriff, something the redneck couldn't quite put his finger on. Rick was still angry at him for being late, but there was something else, something more.

"This all ya want, Dixon?" Rick growled, moving forward as he ripped off his shirt, small buttons haphazardly falling to the floor. Daryl wasn't given a chance to answer, to question what was going on. Before he knew what was happening, he was being pressed against the wall face first, the cool material of the walls making him jerk back, but he was pinned by a burning hot body. "It is, isn't it? Just a quick fuck. No hassle."

Daryl grunted, torn between arousal and confusion. He couldn't deny that he loved when Rick got rough with him, but there was something lying beneath the others dominant behavior, his actions not fulled by lust, or affection. Whatever it was, it made the farmer's words scalding hot, burning themselves into the hunters brain.

"Look at ya. So ready for me. So hard." Daryl jerked violently at the hot breath that gushed over his ear, embarrassment flooding his mind, making him squirm and writhe beneath Rick. They had never really done any dirty talk, nothing beyond straight forward fucking, but oddly enough it sparked his arousal like nothing they had done before. Rick sounded absolute feral, more beast than human.

He couldn't help the whine that came from his lips, hands digging into the concrete beneath him, short nails scraping at it as he shoved backwards, rubbing his ass against the sheriff's groin, shuddering at the hard cock that brushed against his tingling skin.

"No." Rick growled in response, grabbing Daryl by the back of his neck and shoving his head forward, forcing his cheek to press uncomfortably into the wall. "If ya are gonna fuckin' use me for my cock, Dixon, then I'm gonna use ya, too."

The thoughts that whirled through the brunettes head at these words, confusion and even worry starting to overtake his mind, lust fading as cold dread overtook him. Was this what all this was about? Rick feeling like he was using him for sex? Was that why he was so angry, his grip on Daryl's neck so hard it hurt? But suddenly, his body was being filled with burning hot fingers, barely slick enough to slide in smoothly, ripping a moan from chapped lips.

"There it is. My little slut." The words were snarled, pulling another whine from the redneck as he pushed back out of pure instinct, wanting more of Rick's touch, of the feeling he had when he was being spread open by the other man. "You're ready, aren't you. Just waiting for me to fuck into ya.."

Fingers were pulled back, leaving Daryl feeling empty, but before he could complain he was being filled by something so much better. Rick's cock was twitching within him, helpless moans spilling from thin lips as he started moving without giving Daryl even the fraction of a second to get used to being so full.

It was quick, and it was dirty, everything Daryl had thought he wanted, and suddenly realized wasn't. The way Rick was pounding into him, his breaths short and heavy as he took him had nothing to do with the way they usually did it. The older had always made sure he wasn't hurting him, but now it didn't seem to matter anymore. He was being fucked like a bitch in heat, harder and harder still until he could feel himself coming against the concrete wall, his vision going blank at the force of his climax.

Rick had pulled out of him the second the last twitch of orgasm had run through his body, hastily pulling up his boxers and pants to cover his still hard cock. Daryl couldn't turn, couldn't look into those blue eyes, too afraid of what he would see in them.

"Daryl.. I.. fuck. I'm sorry." Rick finally ground out, one hand shoved into the pockets of his jeans, the other covering his face as he bowed his head. "I'm sorry. Did I hurt ya?"

Finally, Daryl found he could move again and he shook his head, turning his head to get a look at the man he loved more than anything in this world, even if he wouldn't admit it even to himself.

"Nah, 'm fine. Was good." He answered, legs trembling lightly as he turned to press his back against the concrete, holding himself up, but only barely. "Ya didn't.."

He was quickly interrupted by Rick lifting his hand, silencing him. He watched as the former cop started pacing the room, biting down on his thumb almost nervously as he did. Daryl didn't know what to do, still basking in the afterglow of his orgasm, but now also worried about the bearded man.

"Rick, whats goin' on?" He finally asked, trying to ignore the cold that dripped into his body, mixed with an upcoming feeling of panic. Rick spun around then, taking two steps into his direction, crowding Daryl against the wall once more, his fist connecting with the wall right next to the hunter's face.

"Can't do this anymore, Daryl, can't.. this ain't working for me." He whispered, voice breaking at the end of his sentence, making Daryl flinch.

"What'cha mean?" Brown eyes searched for blue ones as he spoke, pressing himself as close to the cold concrete as he could, brows furrowed.

"This. Meetin' ya here. Can't do it anymore. 'm sorry." Rick shook his head, taking a step back, blood flowing from his busted knuckles and over his hand. Daryl wanted to reach out , to take hold of the injured hand and examine it, but was stopped in his tracks when Rick stepped out of reach.

"You don' wan' it anymore?" Panic now finally arose in him, when it should have been there much sooner, Daryl realized. Rick had been off all night, he should have noticed it the minute he walked through those gates, but he had pushed it aside in favor of sating his need for the other. Was Rick ending this? Was it suddenly over?

"I wan' it." Rick admitted softly. Hope blossomed in Daryl's chest. Maybe if he just tried harder to please the sheriff, maybe worked harder for the group, did more for Rick in particular, he could convince him to stay. Maybe, if he just dropped to his knee's and sucked him off like the other had sucked him countless times, he'd stay with him. Wouldn't abandon him. Wouldn't leave him so alone. Rick's next words shook him to the core.

"Want more from ya, Daryl. All of ya. Not just 'ere, not just when we're alone. Wanna have ya everywhere, wanna show ya belong to me."

Time seemed to slow as the redneck stared at the other, blinking slowly as he worked through he information he had just been provided. Fuck. Was all he came up with. He wanted more. More than this. More like a relationship. A real, bloody relationship. Daryl could do nothing but stare open mouthed, trying to find words, any words he could say to make Rick reconsider, to make him forget a relationship and be happy with what he was offering.

At the same time, Daryl knew that he would never convince Rick of anything, simply because Daryl wanted it too. He wanted to kiss Rick good morning and good night, wanted to share his bed, wanted to help raise his kids, that had somehow become his own in a way.

"Yeah. I thought that's what ya'd say." Rick laughed, but it sounded so broken and bitter it made the tracker wince. "Gotta go, gotta find somethin' to do."

Then, just like that, Rick was gone and for once, it was Daryl who was left behind in the darkness of their cell. That was no longer really theirs.

After all. Everything was over.

Rick tried his very best to act as if nothing had happened. As if he and Daryl had never been anything but best friends, as if they had never met up in an empty cell block and fucked each other until movement became more of a chore than anything else. Tried to treat Daryl like he had before any of it had happened.

It was a lot harder than he had imagined.

He had never been aware of just how close he and Daryl had been, even before their physical relationship had come to life. Daryl was somehow always close when he was within the prison fences, and not out hunting, or on a run. They ate together, worked together, spent their 'free' time together. They had always been together.

Another thing he had never noticed before was how much he had touched Daryl. A friendly pat on the shoulder, a gentle touch to the others arm, sitting right next to each other when they kept each other company during watch, shoulders and legs brushing. He hadn't noticed any of it because it had come natural, to touch the younger male, and be touched in return.

Now, he could barely stand it. As if ending their intimate time together somehow made touching the redneck unbearable in any way at all. Rick knew that some people in the group had caught on to him, that something between him and Daryl was off, but they didn't comment, and he was thankful for that. He wouldn't have known what to say if they had. And in all honesty, he reckoned he was being about as subtle as a gun, despite his efforts to play it cool.

The day after he had ended things, Daryl had patted him on the shoulder and he had jumped away, as if it wasn't his best friend showing affection, but a venomous snake striking to kill. Brown eyes had gone impossibly wide, the hurt in them so clear Rick wanted to vomit. He had caught Carol staring at them as they stood in silence for a few moments, simply looking at each other. Rick had apologized, said he was jumpy from lack of sleep, and Daryl had accepted it with a nod.

The next time Daryl had touched him, the sheriff had dropped his plate, scattering the food onto the floor. He had quickly knelt to clean it up, keeping his eyes focused on the floor. He knew Daryl would be looking at him like that again, pleading, not understanding what was going on. Rick couldn't blame him. He didn't have the slightest clue, either.

All he knew was that being touched by the man he loved, and touching him in return was painful, brought back too many memories of pleasure and love. Knew that if he'd accept any kind of physical affection, he'd break apart.

And he had just fixed himself up again not long ago.

Daryl had always known that once he depended on someone, he became needy. Needy for their praise, their attention, their appreciation. He had always been that way, even as a child. His momma had told him he was as much a wolf as he was a human, that he had a pack mentality, and despite being fierce and strong, wasn't a natural Alpha. He could do it, if need be, but it would never be a position he'd be comfortable with.

He could recall the many times his momma had spoken to him about her favorite animals, about how they lived, and hunted, and died. Cause everything died, she had said, sooner or later, even those that were strong and smart like wolves. But she had taught him that your pack, your family, was all that mattered. You had to stay close to them, and work hard, or you'd die young, and alone.

It had taken some getting used to, he had to admit, to hear that he was like an animal from his momma, but eventually he had come to understand that it had just been her way of telling him she loved him, and it had helped him understand himself a little better, in the end.

He wasn't an alpha, never would be, never wanted to be. He was happy following someone he trusted, doing their dirty work or whatever else needed to be done, just to please them. In the end, it did somehow all come back to his intense need to please his leader, his alpha. Meerle had been his alpha for a long time. Now, Rick was his alpha, and Daryl was desperate for his approval, his acknowledgment of his sheer existence. He felt cherished, treasured even when Rick openly showed affection and care for him.

The sheriff had made Daryl a prisoner of his without even trying, in a way no one had ever before. Rick owned him, literally owned him. He could do whatever he wanted to him, and the redneck would take it, if only to have his hair ruffled when he did whatever Rick wanted well. He would kill and die for the man, without a single question asked.

But Rick had changed since their last meeting in the cell, had pulled back, and it was driving Daryl insane. The cop hadn't touched him since, not even a pat on the back when he brought back another deer, just the hint of a smile and a nod.

The hunter had tried to ignore it, thought that Rick just needed time after what had happened between them the night before. But when he had gone to touch Rick instead, hoping for a real smile in return, the male had jerked away from his touch as if he was a god damn walker.

He had apologized, given Daryl a good enough reason to believe, and he had tried to shrug it off. But the nagging voice in the back of his head had already started whispering to him.

Can't please him, can ya', little brother? Fuckin' worthless ya' are, always have been. Waste of space, waste of air. Can't get the only person that matter's to ya' to be proud of ya'. Pathetic.

Daryl had given the sheriff a few days to himself, had backed off as far as he could to give Rick what he apparently needed. But even after a week, when he had once more attempted to get the others attention, to see that smile he loved so much, Rick's plate had gone flying to the ground, wasting an entire meal. He hadn't even looked at him then, even though Daryl had tried to will him into lifting his face, look at him, talk to him, anything.

All Rick had done was cleaned up and walked away, leaving Daryl dumb-folded and hurting.

He knew the former cop was hurting too, hurting because he wanted something Daryl just couldn't give him no matter how much he wanted to, and that it was bound to become a bit awkward between them for a while. But he had never expected it to become a permanent state.

It seemed to be permanent, though, as a month had passed and Rick's behavior hadn't changed one bit. Rick hadn't come to see him, hadn't kept him any company during watch,or even so much as spoken to him unless he really had to.

Carol had been asking him about it for days now, just like Hershel and Beth, drilling into him with their questions. He had snarled and grunted at them, shrugged it off or walked away, because there was no way in hell he was going to tell anyone of their secret relationship, and its end.

The situation, however, was too much to bare. He had to talk to Rick, had to do something to get his attention, to have those blue eyes shining with affection as they looked him up and down, those soft, soft lips curling into a smile. Needed to hear his name on Rick's lips, needed to know he wasn't alone, wasn't unwanted.

He couldn't have stopped himself, even if he had wanted to.

Night had fallen, and for the most part, the prison was shrouded in darkness and silence. The only light he could make out as he stood in the dark was in the watch tower, where Rick would be staying the entire night to make sure they didn't get overrun by walkers. The fences were already starting to bend with the sheer amount of undead bodies pressing against it, and they would have to come up with a solution for that particular issue soon. Just not tonight.

Squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath, Daryl made his way to the tower, crossbow hung over his shoulder as he walked. It didn't take him long to climb up the latter, knocking at the metal door at the top that would lead him to Rick.

It had only been open for a second, but he was already halfway through, not wanting to give Rick the chance to tell him he didn't want any company, or even simply close the opening again. Sure, he could have pushed it open himself, but he didn't want to just burst in, not really. He wanted to be welcomed.

"Should be asleep." Rick said as he once more sealed the room off from the ladder, not looking at Daryl even as he stood up again. "Gonna be a long day tomorrow."

"m not tired." Daryl replied, leaning his crossbow against a concrete wall. "Wanted to talk to ya 'bout something."

"An' whats that?" The sheriff asked, moving once more onto the outer area of the platform, leaning against the railing, staring into the night.

"We need more supplies, runnin' outta everythin'. Gotta find something big." Daryl started, moving to stand next to Rick, mimicking the others posture more out of habit than on purpose.

"So what'cha suggestin' then?"

"We hit the place Michonne was talkin' 'bout. Take the cars, take a bigger group 'n we can get 'nough for a few weeks." They had already talked about this, a few weeks back, when Michonne had first mentioned it. Rick had deemed it too dangerous, chances that the place was full of walkers, or other (possibly aggressive) survivors too big a risk to take. They had fought over it, too. Daryl knew he shouldn't have brought it up again, should have let it rest, especially now, but he simply couldn't. If Rick wasn't going to pay attention to him on his own, then Daryl would simply have to force him to. It was Rick's fault he needed him so much. Rick's fault he loved him. Rick's fault that he craved him so.

"I already said no, Daryl. 's too dangerous. Might not even find anythin', if survivors are hidin' out in there. Might get over run by walkers and die before ya can get a single thing."

He could have let it go then, could have nodded and left. Could have just let it be.

"I know." He said instead, shrugging lightly as he stole a glance at the former cop from the corner of his eye. "But we gotta reconsider, ya know that, we all do. Runnin' too low on too many things."

"We'll find a way. Always have."

The calmness with which Rick spoke, that he usually loved so much, was now getting on Daryl's nerves. It was too controlled, too bland, no emotion behind it and he hated it. Hated how Rick was treating him with such indifference. Was he suddenly unneeded? Had Rick really stopped caring?

"There ain't no other way left." He snapped, pushing away from the railing, turning to face the older man, even though Rick kept staring into nothing, made no motion to mirror his actions. "We gotta get the supplies, if there are any."

"And I said we'd find another way, Daryl." Rick snapped, still refusing to so much as even glance at the redneck. "Gotta accept it. I ain't changin' my mind, no matter how hard ya try."

"An' who made ya the boss of me, sheriff?" He snapped in return, stepping back from the railing and moving to face Rick, fists clenched at his side. He shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be baiting Rick into a fight. He didn't want the man's anger, far from it, he wanted his affection. But if Daryl couldn't get positive attention from the older male, then he was going to take what he knew he could get. Rick's anger, and thereby, his attention.

"Wasn't just my decision. We voted on it." Rick shook his head, looking suddenly tired, and much, much older.

"But if ya changed your mind, ya could convince them. They listen to ya, Rick, always have. I can take Michonne, take a look aroun' the place. If it's too dangerous, we don't bring the group." Daryl argued, taking a step towards the former cop, who was still stubbornly staring off into nothing. "It ain't that dangerous, Michonne and I can look after each other, we can do it, Rick. Ain't nobody gonna get hurt."

"I said no!" Rick suddenly bellowed, seemingly having reached the limit of his patience for the hunter. He was suddenly being shoved against the hard wall, a hot body pressed against his own as the sheriff growled in his face. "You gotta problem with your ears, Dixon? Ya don't seem to be hearin' what I'm sayin'. We ain't gonna go anywhere near that place. You got that? Huh?"

"Fuck, back off will ya?!" Daryl grunted it return, his own hands having shot up to grab at the strong, muscled biceps he knew lay beneath the dirty clothing. It was like Rick was trying to shove him through the wall, hands clenched tightly around the fabric of his shirt as he held Daryl by the collar.

"I tried that, but ya seem to need me to say it again'." Rick snarled, keeping Daryl pinned to the wall with his body, hands suddenly releasing his shirt just to curl into dirty, oily strands of brown hair so tight it hurt. "Ya ain't gonna go, Daryl. Michonne won't neither. Ya hear me? Forget 'bout that place and do somethin' useful. Find another way."

Anger and arousal seemed to course through his body just at the sound of Rick's voice, rougher, lower than normal. The voice he had heard so many times in the cell they used to meet in. Finally, finally Rick was looking at him, clear blue eyes looking him straight in the eye, angry, and bearing teeth. It wasn't perfect, but it was something, and Daryl couldn't help feeling victorious. He had done it, he had broken Rick down, had forced him into paying him attention. He could still get under the former cop's skin.

"There ain't no other way, I already told ya." He growled in response, digging his fingers firmly into the others arm. "Now get the fuck off'a me. Someone's gonna see."

"There's always another way." Rick replied, and suddenly, his hands were pulling at his hair, forcing Daryl to lean his head back with a short, painful tug. "Ya scared someone's gonna think you're a fag babe?"

Daryl shivers at the endearment, grunting quietly as he squirms, trying to get away from that insistent body. But he can't use his entire strength, because he could never hurt Rick, not really, and so he is forced to stay trapped between Rick and the wall.

"An' if I do?" He grinds out between clenched teeth. "What if I do care what they think? We're the last one's left, I gotta spend my life with these people. What if I want them to respect me?"

"And bein' gay would make 'em disrespect you?" Rick laughs then, low in his throat and it sounds painful, choked out. Its certainly painful to hear. "That shit don't matter no more, no one cares who you're fuckin', long as you're happy. That's how the world works now. You're clingin' to a world that's dead, and you're takin' me down with ya."

Daryl doesn't know what to say to that, so he doesn't say anything at all, simply continuing to struggle against the firm body, trying to pull his hair from those strong hands, to gain some kind of leverage, anything, just to get away from this. He had wanted Rick's attention, but this, this wasn't what he had been looking for.

"Ya can't even see it, can ya, Daryl? That I love ya. That you're mine, an' I'm yours. You can fight it all ya want. It's still the god damn truth." And then he's spun around, his face crushed against the concrete, Rick behind him, once more pining him down.

"Rick, just, fuck." He hisses, because even here, on top of the god damn watch tower, he can't deny the arousal he feels when an insistent cock is rubbing against his ass. He could never keep himself in check with Rick, as if the sheriff brought out everything Daryl tried to hide away, tried to ignore. Brought all of the darkness to the surface, burning him up from the inside.

"'s what I intend to do." Is all Rick answers, one hand releasing the oily strands it had clung to, moving his hand along Daryl's side, slipping it between the wall and Daryl's groin, warm palm rubbing at it gently.

Daryl is paralyzed, torn between panic and the unbelievable need he suddenly feels for Rick. He wants to give in, wants to let Rick fuck him against the concrete wall, because all the things Rick had said, somehow, struck a cord deep within him. He was Ricks, and if he believed the sheriff, then Rick belong to Daryl, too. It was too good to be true, too good to believe. His Alpha was in love with him, maybe, but Daryl certainly didn't own his alpha the way Rick owned him.

And so the panic within wins, and he's struggling harder now, squirming away from that heated body as much as he can, trying to avoid the hard length brushing against him as he did.

"Ya want this Daryl, I know ya do." Rick breaths into his ear, making him inhale sharply as the hot gush of words play over his skin. "So hard for me already, baby, so ready. You need me, don't ya? Missed me as much as I missed ya. I know ya did."

"Rick, stop it, stop it, don't do this." Daryl hisses, his voice pitched higher with his fear, pleading with the other, praying it would save him. "Please, I'm sorry, I won' go, I promise. Don' do this to me, Rick, fucking please."

A short grunt, and the pressure is gone. He sighs in relief, thinking he would get out of this now. Until he noticed Rick's hand still curled into his hair, shoving him inside the watch tower, shutting the door behind himself. Daryl more stumbles then walks, but it doesn't make much of a difference. He had taken two steps into the enclosed space, and was then shoved onto the old, worn mattress that held nothing but a flat pillow, and a thin blanket.

"Good. But not good enough." Rick says, flipping Daryl onto his back the second he reaches him, straddling his hips, one hand already securely curled into dirty brown hair, the other ghosting over Daryl's face and gingerly rubbing a thumb over pink lips. "Ya gotta remember your place, baby. Gotta listen to the counsels decision's, all of 'em, if ya like 'em or not. An' I think ya got a bit cocky, with all the new people likin' ya so much, treatin' ya like you're a fuckin' hero."

"Didn' get cocky." Daryl breaths, eyes fluttering shut at the sharp nip his earlobe receives at his words.

"I think ya have. 's okay, I'll show ya your place, Daryl. Like ya want me to. Always wanted me to." Those words send shivers down Daryl's spine, a soft keen escaping him. He wants to struggle, but finds he can't. Rick's already licking and sucking at his neck in all the right places, never enough to leave behind a mark, but still so good. And so he groans, quietly, but he does, making Rick chuckle.

"See? I knew ya wanted me, Daryl. Wanted me all this time, wanted me to look at ya, talk to ya. Got so angry when I didn'." Ricks saying, broad hands roaming over the tracker's sides, up his chest, circling the hardening nubs of flesh that were his nipples.

"Stop talking." He grunts, his own hands desperately sliding over strong shoulders, down a muscled back and lower, tugging at the hem of the worn jeans the farmer was wearing. "Jus' do it. Shut up an' get on with it."

The demand earns him a harsh bite to his neck, just shy of hard enough to break his skin, and he knows he'll be carrying the mark for a few days. He whines in protest, fingers digging into Rick's back through the material of his shirt.

"You ain't got no say here, Daryl. Ya understand? I'm gonna decide what ya get, and when. An' you're gonna take it." His tone makes it an order, and Daryl can feel himself tremble at the harsh sound of Rick's voice. The voice in his head is screaming at him to fight, to stop this before it goes any further, but he simply can't find the energy to do anything but nod.

"Good boy." Rick praises, and it makes Daryl frown.

"I ain't no dog." He spat out, arching his back to press his groin firmly against Rick's thigh, needing some sort of friction to sooth the burning ache within.

"Nah, not a dog." Rick agrees almost gently, nuzzling against the mark he had left on the tracker's skin only moments before. "But ya like when I praise ya, anyway."

Its true, and really, there is nothing he can deny here, so he simply nods once more, arching his back as far as he could, desperate for something, anything but this torture, Rick so close to him he can inhale the others scent, and yet still not close enough.

"So eager." Rick chuckles, but finally relents, moving his hands to Daryl's pants, slowly unzipping the worn jeans, pulling the fabric downwards until its at the middle of his thighs, trapping his legs. Another low keen is torn from Daryl's lips as he squirms, trying to lower his pants further, to get rid of the offensive material, but Rick appears to be satisfied with the way things are now. Strong hands grab slender hips and push, holding the hunter down.

"Rick, what the fuck-" He doesn't get any further than that, the warmth of Rick's hand rubbing over his throbbing cock forcing a broken moan from him, hips bucking into the welcome touch.

"I told ya you'd get what I'd give ya, Daryl. No more. Just what I want ya to have." Its infuriating how Rick can make him squirm and writhe, can make him want him so desperately he feels like he's losing his mind. He's panting now, cheeks burning, and Rick's grinning, obviously pleased with himself. The sheriff was enjoying this, enjoying his control over Daryl. "Hands and knee's Daryl. I'll give ya what ya want."

The enthusiasm with which Daryl follows his order makes Rick chuckle again, but he's too far gone to care, scrambling onto his hands and knee's, pants still restricting him and making movement more difficult, but it doesn't matter, because Rick wants him this way, and he would always give him whatever he wanted.

His boxers are pulled down to join his pants, the cold air against his heated member sending a shiver through him, but the thought of the cold is immediately forgotten as he feels warm hands pressing against his skin, rubbing over his firm mounds almost lovingly.

"Such a good boy, Daryl." Rick whispers, sliding his thumbs into the crack between his cheeks, teasing him, so close to where he really wants him, and yet not touching. It makes Daryl want to scream, whine, demand more, demand that Rick just fuck him. But he knows better by now, thinks he knows what the sheriff wants from him, so all he does is spread his legs as far as he could, biting his lower lip to hold back the litany of curses threatening to pour out.

He's rewarded, because that's what it is, a fucking reward, a physical praise, when Rick brushed both thumbs lower, right over the tight ring of muscles, and its enough to make him moan desperately once more, hips pushing back to get more of the delicious touch.

"Ya really been needin' this, huh?" The question makes him growl, because if it wasn't fucking obvious by now that he needed this, then Rick was either blind or stupid. "Now, now. Be nice, baby, or I'll stop right here."

The warning is enough to make him whimper, but he nods quickly, showing he understood. His cheeks are spread, eyes fluttering shut at the anticipation he feels. In a second, those strong fingers would dip into him, would stretch him further and further, until he felt so full he thought he'd be ripped in two. Rick's next step, however, isn't what Daryl expected.

The hunter feels a hot gush of air against his opening, his brain trying to process the implications, but he's simply too slow. Before he can so much as open his mouth to ask what the hell Rick was doing, he feels something slick and unbelievably hot pressing against his entrance. Daryl's body seems to freeze, once more paralyzed by the sheriff's actions.

Its a foreign feeling, having someone licking at him, slicking him up, teasing at the rim before lapping at him again. Its not until he feels Rick's tongue slipping inside him that he can react.

"Fuckin' hell, Rick, don't, what'cha doin' to me, don't, don't.." He pants, but his body betrays him, hips pushing back against the intrusion, legs and arms trembling dangerously as he feels wave after wave of lust washing over him.

"Ya love it, Daryl, look at ya." Rick growls, moving to leave another possessive mark on Daryl's cheek, soothing the smarting flesh with a few laps of his tongue. "Don't lie to me, baby, ya know I can always tell. Tell me how much ya want it, tell me, and I'll give it to ya. I'll fuck ya the way ya like it, rough an' quick."

It breaks him, breaks any control, any restraint he has, and before the tracker knows it, he's begging, begging for Rick to take him, to make him his, desperate plea's only interrupted by strangled sobs. His body is strung tight, pleasure coiling in his stomach, and he is beyond simple want now. He needs Rick.

When spit slicked fingers finally bury into him, he almost cries, cries because this feels so good, almost too good, and because its all he's ever needed since the day he met Rick. He's too far gone for words now, growling and whining as he shoves his hips back, and the sheriff seems equally lost in pleasure, if his short pants and low groans are anything to go by.

"Hold still baby." Rick finally whispers, and then he's spreading him open, slowly at first, pushing only the crown of his hard member into his opening. He can't take it anymore, Rick's pushed him too far, and with a defiant growl, Daryl pushed his hips back as much as he can, forcing the sheriff to slide halfway in. They both groan in union, bodies trembling, both needing a moment to catch their breath.

And then its just like Daryl wanted it, rough and dirty, all pretense gone. Rick's pounding into him like an animal, pulling slim hips back to meet his every thrust, going deeper and deeper until the hunter is reduced to a quivering mess of wanton need.

"That's it, Daryl, that's it." Rick encourages, though his words sound rough, his voice on the verge of breaking as he speaks. "Let go, lemme take care of ya... Love ya, Daryl, love ya so fucking much."

He's coming before he can answer, shooting his seed onto the worn mattress, muscles convulsing around Rick's cock, and then he's being filled with scalding hot liquid, making him whimper with pleasure. Finally, Rick's gotten off with him, he's done good, done so good, made him come again.

Rick seems to agree with him, babbling sweet words of endearment and praise as he thrusts shallowly into the body beneath him, slowly coming down from his own high. Daryl can barely hold himself up, but once again Rick seems to read his mind. He shifts backward, softening cock slipping out of the hunter's tight channel, pulling up his pants before moving him to lay on his side.

"I got'cha, Daryl." He murmurs, moving to lay behind the hunter, lazily draping his arm over the spent body, pulling him close. "'m always gonna take care of ya."

He barely had time to process Rick's words, but the soothing tone was all it took for Daryl to simply relax, close his eyes, and enjoy the luxury of falling asleep in the arms of the man he loved.

"Rick!" Daryl hollered, desperately trying to reach the older man, taking down walker after walker as he progressed towards the cop painfully slow. Rick was struggling, holding off a walker that had thrown him to the floor with bare hands, trying to keep away those snapping jaws. Stupid, the tracker had been stupid letting Rick come along.

"If you're gonna go, you're gonna take me." Rick had relented the morning after their passionate night in the watchtower.

"Why?" Daryl had asked, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, feeling the cool morning air raise goosebumps on his skin. He hadn't dressed, not yet. Rick had just woken him, the other man dressed and looking infinitely tired.

"'cause I don' like the idea of anyone else at your back.'s always been you an' me." The answer had Daryl huffing, avoiding eye contact. It was embarrassing, hearing Rick say something like that so casually.

"You ain't gotta come. I know ya don' like goin' out there no more."

"I'm not discussin' this with you, Dixon. You an' me, we'll check out that place together, or not at all. Ya hear me?" Rick's words had been firm, and Daryl knew that he wasn't going to change the former sheriff's mind. Not that he wanted to, not really. It had been so long since he and Rick had gone on a run together, sneaking through forests and old houses, always prepared to fight off a walker, or an unfriendly survivor. They had been close back then, physically close, Rick's presence comforting. He had missed going on runs with him, despite his fear of the other getting hurt, or even worse, bitten.

But he had been serious the night before, it wouldn't be too dangerous. They'd just get a quick look, see how the situation was. He would keep Rick safe.

"A'right, officer. Whatever ya say."

Now, Daryl wished he had fought Rick harder, had insisted that someone else come with him. Wished he had never brought it up again. Nothing was worth the sheer terror he felt curling in his stomach at the sight of his alpha on the ground of the fenced in area that had once been the parking lot of the large supermarket, fighting for his life.

"Daryl!" Rick cried out as a second walker fell on top of the first, tanned arms struggling to hold the weight, and keep away the creature desperately struggling to take a bite of him. Daryl's heart stopped for just a second then and there, but he was closer now, almost close enough, and so he pushed through the last two walkers that separated him from Rick, stabbing them in the head with an arrow and shoving them to the ground.

The walkers face was now dangerously close to Rick's face, snapping and growling at the cop. Daryl grabbed the upper walker, shoving an arrow into its eye and shoving it away, only to repeat the action on the lower.

"Come on!" He ground out, grabbing Rick by the arm and pulling until he stood beside him. "We gotta go."

Another group of biters were making their way towards them, groaning as they moved. He pulled Rick with him, further and further back until they reached the fence that had surrounded the store.

Shouldn't have let him talk ya into it, lil brother. Should'a been more careful. Almost got him killed. Ya proud of yourself?

"Shut up!" Daryl ground out, having no time to listen to Meerle's mocking voice, no time to feel the sting of those words.

"Didn' say anythin'." Rick answered, his voice rough, breathing too fast. Daryl didn't answer. He had more important things on his mind right now than confessing that he heard his dead brother in his head.

"Get over there, now." He snarled, turning his head to keep an eye on the walkers. "Now I said!"

The cop had hesitated, probably wanting Daryl to get to safety first, but the tracker would have none of it. And so Rick nodded, quickly climbing up and over the fence, waiting for Daryl to follow.

They made it just in time, Daryl coming over the fence just as the first walker had reached the spot he had been in only a minute before.

"Run." Daryl had ground out, grabbing Rick's hand as he sprinted forward. He needed Rick back in the prison, needed him back where he was safe. Never again did he want it to be such a close call, never wanted to hear Rick call out for him so desperately. He would never take the cop on a run again, and if he was beaten and despised for it, then it was something he would deal with.

"Daryl, stop." Rick groaned, stumbling and almost falling to the ground. The tracker spun around to catch him, holding him upright for a few moments before carefully sitting him down on the ground. They had made it back into the woods. That, at least, was good. They would be harder to find here. If any walkers made their way to them, safe the case that it was an entire fucking herd, he'd be able to keep them off long enough for Rick to run. They could afford a few moments to rest.

"Ya okay?" Daryl finally asked, going down onto one knee, placing his hand on the other's shoulder.

"Yeah.. jus' gettin' old I guess." Rick replied, still catching his breath. "Or I got rusty. 'm fine Daryl. Was stupid of me to wanna go over the fence. Shoulda listened to ya. 'm sorry."

"Yeah, it was pretty fuckin' stupid." The archer agreed grimly, shaking his head. "Almost got yourself killed. The fuck am I supposed to do without ya?"

"You'd manage."

Those words, more than the blank tone they were spoken in, ignited an anger so fierce within him, he felt like his blood was on fire.

"Whatcha tryin' ta say, Grimes? That ya don' matter to me?" He spat, grasp tightening on the cop's shoulder, barely resisting the urge to shake Rick until the man came back to his senses.

"I dunno, Dixon, ya tell me." Rick challenged, blue eyes piercing as they stared at each other. "Ya let me fuck ya, let me bend ya over and claim ya, but ya won't kiss me goodnight. Ya let me suck ya off and swallow your cum, but ya won't hold my hand. I know this ain't easy for ya, bein' with a man and all. It just don't make sense to me. That you'll sleep with me, but not be with me."

He had no answer to that, none that made sense at least. Daryl couldn't put it into words, the solid wall of fear that kept him from being everything Rick wanted him to be. The fear of fucking up, and losing him. The fear of being laughed at, as he had been for most of his life. The fear that, despite knowing Rick would never do it on purpose, he'd get hurt.

Heavy silence enveloped them as he tried to find a way out of this situation, a way to distract Rick from this topic and just move on. But there was nothing he could use to do so, no walker that needed to be killed, no animal he could shoot down for them to bring back.

"..Just 'cause I don' do that stuff don' mean ya don' matter. Ya do." He finally replied rather lamely.

"How, Daryl? How do I matter?" Rick pressed on, moving forward to cup Daryl's cheeks, holding his head firmly in place. "You're my best friend, Daryl, and the man I love. That's what ya mean to me. I fuckin' love ya. More than I ever loved Lori."

"Don't say shit like that." Daryl protested, brows furrowing as he grabbed for Rick's arm with his free hand, the other still firmly planted on the older man's shoulder. "It ain't true."

"It is true. I mean it." The cop insisted, leaning forward to place his forehead against Daryl's, breaths mingling in between them. Rick's eyes had shut, and for once he looked peaceful. "I love ya. I can't stop lovin' ya. I tried, tried to forget ya, but I couldn'. Think of ya every fuckin' second, Daryl, day 'n night. All I want, all I need, is havin' ya in my arms."

"Jus' stop talkin'!" Daryl growled, wanting to hear no more and yet, wanting to hear more. But he couldn't allow Rick to go on, couldn't allow himself to listen to those sweet words when he had almost failed the sheriff minutes ago. He pulled back, shaking his head in defeat, pulling back his hands. "We gotta keep going."

"And if I won't go 'til you answer me?"

"Don't push me, Grimes. We're goin' now, and I will drag ya by your goddamn hair if I have to."

And so, after another moment of silent, Rick got to his feet. He moved past the tracker, shoulders brushing the only contact between them. He had pissed his alpha off again, he could tell by the tension in those broad shoulders, but for once he didn't give a single fuck.

He could think about the misery he had just caused himself when Rick was safely in his cell.

Rick had spent the rest of the day with Carl and Judith. The smell of rotten corpse still stung in his nose, even hours after he had almost been done for. He could still feel the adrenaline, albeit much less prominent, throbbing in his veins. It had been a close call. And though the sheriff was having his fair share of trouble dealing with this reminder of mortality, it seemed that Daryl was having even more trouble.

The hunter had been practically seething the entire way back, despite obviously aware of Rick's own anger. It seemed that the hunter had been shook to the core by the events of the day, snapping and growling at whoever dared to talk to him, much like when they had just met. It was unsettling, and he hoped it wouldn't last long. He had come to love Daryl's way with the survivors, especially the children. He was so good with them, it was almost ridiculous. His own daughter adored Daryl as well, chubby arms flinging around when she caught sight of the archer, squealing and whining until Daryl had mercy on everyone's ears and held her. Rick thought he would feel jealous of the bond the two had, however, all he felt was content as he watched the man he loved cradling his child, wiggling his finger at her, making her giggle and squirm.

Today, no matter how much Judith had whined and reached for him, Daryl hadn't given in. And so, when the evening came around, Judith was screaming her little lungs out. Rick had tried everything, had carried her around while rocking her, sang to her, anything he could think of. But even Beth and Carol hadn't been able to sooth the little girl.

He was about to lose his mind, and his very last nerve, when the door to his cell slammed open. The sound of metal meeting the concrete wall was loud enough to startle the baby, and cause a new round of heart breaking cries.

Rick quirked a brow as he recognized who had come to them. Daryl looked pissed off still, the anger written all over his face, but his body language was a lot less aggressive than it had been hours ago.

"Give her here." He grunted, reaching out for Judith, and Rick handed her over without hesitation. He knew Daryl would keep her safe, would never let her be harmed. He didn't doubt that for a second. A few more sobs, and Judith finally stopped crying for long enough to notice that she was now being held by the one she had been demanding to be held by for hours. And then, finally, she went quiet, snuggled comfortably against the trackers chest.

"Thank you." He breathed, moving to sit on his bed, rubbing hands over his face. He loved Judith dearly, but the small girl seemed to have the lungs of an opera singer, able to scream with a volume that made Rick's ears ring.

"'s nothing." Daryl replied, cradling the child softly, brown eyes never leaving Judith's face. The former cop allowed himself to relax, moving backwards on the bed until his back hit the wall, watching silently as the redneck rocked his daughter to sleep. The sun had set, the only light source the few candles Rick had lit when he came in. Daryl moved soundlessly, as always, to the makeshift crib they had set up in his cell, placing the sleeping baby into it carefully, not wanting to wake her up again.

Rick waited for Daryl to turn around and face him, giving the younger a small smile and a nod. He didn't dare to speak now that Judith had finally fallen asleep. He expected Daryl to nod in return and leave. But the Dixon seemed to have something else in mind.

Daryl was suddenly nervous, Rick could tell by the way his shoulders tensed, hand's curling into fists. Two swift steps and Daryl was bending over him, pressing a rough kiss to Rick's lip, pulling back just as quickly as he had moved in.

"G'night." He snapped, and then he was gone, just like that. Rick couldn't help the grin that spread over his lips. Just maybe, he and Daryl would work out after all.

He could do this. It wasn't that hard.

No matter how much Daryl repeated those words in his mind, he simply couldn't believe them. Never in his life had he thought he would even contemplate doing something like this. He wasn't gay. So why would he think about sucking a dude's cock?

Fact was, he was thinking about it a lot recently. Not any man's cock, of course. No, his thoughts were very focused on a specific man he wanted to suck off.

His Alpha. His Rick.

After the first attempt to get into the supermarket had gone bad, Rick had insisted they try again, with more people this time around. Daryl had agreed with the condition that Rick stay behind. And even though Rick had argued and growled and snapped, the hunter hadn't backed down, knowing that they'd need their archer to take out a few walkers before they climbed the fence. And so the cop had stayed behind, waiting for the group to return.

Daryl knew how pissed off Rick was with him, more than he had ever been before. Not even the sheer unbelievable amount of supplies they had managed to gather seemed to sooth Rick's anger. It frightened Daryl, the way his alpha was avoiding him. Daryl had tried everything to track the man down, force him to talk to him, but somehow, his prey always escaped him. It was killing him on the inside, this cold behavior towards him, agonizingly slow. He had to get Rick to forgive him, or he was going to go insane. And so, he had started thinking about how to please his fearless leader.

His first step had been to stay at the prison, and not go out hunting every other day as he normally did. They had enough food for everyone for at least a month or two, if they rationed it generously. If they were more careful, he was sure they could stretch the supplies to last three months. He had helped out around the prison where ever it was needed, even going down to help Rick with his crops. The cop hadn't even looked at him, but Daryl had stayed anyway, kneeling in the dirt with him and doing what he could to make Rick's day less straining. It hadn't done anything, not really. Rick was still ignoring him at every turn.

The next step Daryl took was starting to wash Rick's clothes, tidying up his cell, and making sure the older man had whatever he needed. A bottle of water for the night, clean bed sheets. Sneaking Carl an extra candy bar. He knew all these things were noticed and appreciated when Rick finally gave him a cursory glance and a short nod. But still, it didn't seem enough. The sheriff still wouldn't talk to him, or even touch him. Daryl had to do something more.

And this is how he had ended up here, in Rick's cell, an hour after sunset, waiting. He had asked Carol to take Judith, knowing there was absolutely no way he could pull this off with a baby in the room with them. He had watched as Rick reluctantly handed Judith over, accepting that he was indeed exhausted, and having a night off would do him good. Carol had winked at him as she walked off to her cell with the baby in her arms. Daryl hadn't told her what he was planning to do, but somehow, she seemed to have figured it out.

And while Rick had gone to check the fences with Glenn, Daryl had slipped into Rick's cell, lighting a single candle. He honestly didn't know how he would take having a cock right in front of his face, and the less light there was, the less he would see of it. Maybe that would be enough to calm his rioting nerves. He licked his lips, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat.

Always knew ya were a homo, baby brother. Ya like takin' it up the ass. I knew ya were a fuck up. Old man knew it too. Cock suckin' lil bitch, right from the moment ya were born.

"Shut up." He whispered, rubbing calloused hands over his face in an attempt to chase away the voice in his head. He didn't need any more reason to feel insecure, to feel bad about himself. He had to do this. And somewhere, deep down, he wanted to. And that just made the entire situation worse.

"Daryl?" Rick's voice startled him enough that he jumped, eyes gone wide as he stared at the man that had just entered. How had he not heard him? How had he not heard the damn door opening? He was getting careless. He'd work on that later. "Whatcha doin' here?"

He couldn't answer, too scared that if he was forced to speak, he'd give in to his instincts and bail. His body was itching with discomfort, and all he wanted was to make up some bullshit excuse and leave. Had it been anyone but Rick, he would have. But then, he'd never have gotten this far into his plan with anyone but the ex cop.

And so he did the only thing he could think of.

He stepped into Rick's personal space, grabbing him by the shoulders and shoving him onto the bed a bit more forcefully than he had intended. A quick glance at the cell door told him that it was closed properly, hidden from prying eyes by the large cloth Rick had taken to hanging over it.

He didn't give his alpha any time to question him before crawling between his legs, attacking the soft skin of Rick's neck with his tongue and lips, nipping at it ever so often. To his relief, he wasn't shoved away. Instead, he felt strong hands curling into his hair and pulling him up, dry lips crashing against his so violently their teeth clicked. Daryl didn't care, it was the perfect distraction from what he was about to do. Kissing Rick always felt like he had died and gone to heaven, loving the way the man tasted, the way his slick muscle pushed its way into his mouth, dominating the kiss in every way possible.

But he knew that if he didn't act soon, he'd let Rick have his wicked way with him, let him bend him over and fuck him until he screamed. And that wasn't what tonight was about, aside of the fact that Daryl would die with embarrassment if anyone actually heard them.

Rick was already fumbling with the worn jeans Daryl was wearing when the tracker broke the kiss, roughly moving Rick's hands away from his pants. Rick gave him a questioning look, the one he always gave him when the cop was confused, and slightly amused with him.

Daryl just growled, still not wanting to verbalize his intentions. He made do with pulling the sheriff's shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor. Rick was breathing heavily now, blue eyes watching the redneck curiously. Daryl had to look away before he lost his nerves.

He could do this. He could. Just had to take it slow.

Slowly, he brought his lips to Rick's body, pressing shy kisses against the heated skin, nosing at the thin layer of hair that covered his chest. Rick gave a soft moan, back arching, bringing himself closer to those soft lips. Daryl felt a surge of arousal at that, pleased with himself. So far, he hadn't done anything wrong. He continued trailing kisses over the broad chest he loved so much, moving lower and lower, until he could feel the hem of Rick's pants rubbing against his chin.

"Daryl.." Rick breathed, grabbing hold of the tracker's head by cupping his cheeks, tilting it upwards. "Don' have to do that. I know ya don'.. I know ya don' want to. I ain't mad at ya no more. I promise."

And there it was. His way out of this. Rick had forgiven him. He could just nod, and let Rick take control. Could kiss him until his lips hurt as they jerked each other off, being as silent as they possibly could. The chance was there. All he had to do was take it.

"..I wanna." He whispered, lowering his gaze as he felt a wave of shame wash over him. He'd never thought he'd want to suck off a guy. And here he was, wanting it so bad his mouth watered for it, and hating himself more with every second. He felt Rick's hands leave his cheeks, one moving to run through his hair, the other grasping his chin.

"Alright.. But we can always stop, ya hear me? I don' wanna hurt ya." Daryl nodded his understanding, eyes fluttering shut as he felt Rick press a work roughened thumb against his lower lip, gently teasing it along the warm flesh. The redneck was unable to do anything but sigh contently. No one had ever been this gentle with him. This caring.

Slowly, he undid Rick's pants, hands trembling as he pulled at the hem, slipping them over strong, toned legs. Rick laid beneath him wearing nothing but his briefs now, blue eyes fixed on Daryl, staring so intently it made the hunter squirm.

"'s okay." Rick breathed, reaching out to brush a thumb over Daryl's cheek. "Take your time."

It had to be hard for the cop to be so patient. His breathing was labored, too quick breaths slipping past parted lips, cock twitching in the too tight briefs despite not being touched. The way he laid there, already coming undone, gave Daryl the boost of self confidence he so desperately needed. Rick was enjoying this. Seemed to want this, and want it bad.

Deciding that he had procrastinated enough, Daryl reached for the last layer of clothing that was separating him from Rick's member, yanking it down almost roughly. The sight he was given made him freeze.

He had never looked at another dude's cock, fuck, he had barely looked at his own. But Rick was truly beautiful. He was long and thick, nestled in a patch of light brown hair, and Daryl could swear that if he looked closely enough, he could make out a few gray hairs. Maybe Rick was getting old. The thought made him snort and shake his head, prompting the sheriff to gently nudge Daryl in the side with a boney knee.

"Whatcha laughing at, Dixon?" His tone was teasing, but the nervous twitch of hips did not go unnoticed by the archer. Was Rick as insecure about this as he was? Surely not. His alpha never lost his cool. Well, there had been the time right after Lori...but that wasn't what he wanted to think about now.

"You." He whispered, slowly shifting until he was laying on his stomach between Rick's legs. "So fuckin' beautiful. 's ridiculous."

Rick gave a huff of laughter, those strong hands coming to brush through dirty brown hair.

"Not half bad yourself there." Daryl growled at that reply, fighting the blush he felt creeping onto his cheeks, but Rick just kept talking. "Look so fuckin' hot, Daryl, so close to my cock.. Been wantin' to fuck your mouth since I met ya.. will ya let me? Let me fuck that pretty mouth?"

"Yeah." He had spoken before really thinking, but in the end, Daryl would always let Rick do whatever he wanted. Whatever he needed to do to please his alpha. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Daryl was ready to take that last step. Slowly he moved forward, pressing his lips to the side of the cops impressive member. The redneck had been terrified that he wouldn't like it, that tasting another man on his lips would make him want to vomit. The truth was the exact opposite.

He groaned at the musky scent, nuzzling his nose against the throbbing length. He couldn't resist the urge to flick out his tongue, dragging it from the base all the way up to the swollen head, giving kitten like laps at the heated skin.

"Christ, Daryl.." Rick whispered, tightening his grasp on the brown strands of hair, fingers twitching at every small brush of tongue against his cock. "Feels so good.."

The archer felt a blush spread over his cheeks, squirming a bit at the praise, and deciding that if sucking Rick off would make him say more of these sweet words, it was definitely something he would do again.

He took his time getting to know Rick, tasting and teasing the older with his slick muscle until lean hips were trembling with the effort of having to stay still. Rick was a sight to behold, legs spreading for Daryl beautifully, a thin layer of sweat covering his body as he panted and growled, trying to be silent and almost succeeding. Every once in while, when the redneck licked over a certain spot right below the cop's crown, a low moan would escape Rick, making Daryl's own cock twitch with excitement.

Not even in his dreams had he imagined that giving head would turn him on so much. It was embarrassing that he was already leaking pre despite not being touched, like a fucking teenager. But he couldn't help himself, couldn't stop the lust coursing through his veins, burning him from the inside out, growing hotter with every soft gasp of pleasure Rick gave.

The cop was beyond words now, and by the way his hips kept rocking against Daryl's face, rubbing his heated member against chapped lips, the younger male could tell Rick was getting close. But he wasn't finished with him, not just yet. He wanted to give more, wanted to do what the sheriff did for him. He wanted to suck him into his mouth, let him fuck into it, and swallow his release.

Taking a final, deep breath, Daryl parted his lips, licking at them nervously for a moment. He let his eyes fall shut as he pushed the tip into his mouth, needing another minute to figure out how to make Rick slide in smoothly, without scraping sensitive skin against his teeth. It seemed to take forever, but finally the archer had manage to find a decent position, breathing through his nose as he lowered his head further, swallowing more of the sheriff's length.

He had been entirely focused on the task at hand, so much that he hadn't even caught Rick's response to his actions, but his ignorance didn't last long. A low groan made him flick his gaze upward, gently sucking at the heated flesh. The view he was given almost made his heart stop.

Rick's eyes were dark with desire, pupils blown wide, cheeks and lips flushed. He was biting down on his lower lip, fists curled into the sheet below as his body trembled.

"Shit, Daryl, 'm not gonna last.." He ground out, hips twitching ever so lightly as he spoke, pushing his throbbing member just a fraction deeper into the heat that surrounded him. "Gotta stop.. Ya can use your hand.. Don' have ta.. Don't have ta swallow."

But Daryl cut him off with a low growl, pushing his head down even further, taking as much of Rick as he could without gagging, saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth along the hard shaft. And suddenly, Daryl felt brave. Rick was close, so close, and the archer couldn't think of anything more arousing than feeling his alpha's hot cum spilling into his mouth and down his throat. And so, he hallowed his cheeks as he sucked, bobbing his head slowly at first, but quickly picking up the pace at the lustful sounds his lover was making.

"Fuck.. Daryl, gotta stop, gotta stop now.." Rick forced out between clenched teeth, his hips twitching upwards every few seconds now, thrusting into Daryl's mouth just shy of too deep, making the archer moan around the thick shaft he was sucking on so enthusiastically. The first drops of pre were covering his tongue now, tasting a bit salty and not at all unpleasant. "Shit. Gonna make me come.. feel's so good baby, so fucking good.."

Daryl couldn't help the low groan that escaped him, loud enough to be heard even with his lips wrapped around Rick's cock. The sheriff was babbling again, like he always did when he was close to climax, and he loved every word that tumbled from those beautiful lips. Pushing himself up onto his knee's, he used one hand to steady himself, lips still firmly locked around Rick's flesh, refusing to move too far. But he couldn't stand it anymore, he was too hot and bothered to continue like this. Without thought he shoved his free hand into his pants, rubbing at his own throbbing member, already slick with his pre.

Moving his head in his position was difficult, his jaw and neck straining to keep up the pace Daryl had set before, and failing. Finally the redneck gave up,letting his jaw go slack after pushing his head down one final time, hoping the cop would get the hint.

Rick did.

Rough hands were suddenly back in his hair, pushing his head down as far as possible, hips thrusting upward erratically, forcing the entire length into Daryl's mouth. Tears sprung to the hunter's eyes, breathing sharply through his nose as he felt that hot tip hit the back of his throat. It hurt, but it was also fucking amazing. The way Rick was using his mouth to pleasure himself, pushing and shoving into it with such desperation.. it was perfection.

He started stroking himself faster, rubbing his thumb over the tip whenever he could reach it while Rick did just what he had asked to do. He fucked Daryl's mouth, claimed it as he had already claimed his ass, cock leaking with a steady stream of pre. He was sure they could be heard, that Rick's moans and growls had to be echoing off the walls of his cell, carrying their sounds to places others could hear. But it didn't matter, not right now. Rick was everything that counted, and if he had to go through the embarrassment of others knowing he liked to suck cock, then so be it.

He was dangerously close already, his hand wet and sticky with his own seed, covering himself with every downward stroke. But he couldn't come yet, didn't want to come yet. He wanted to taste Rick on his tongue and drink him dry. Wanted to come together with his alpha.

And just as he thought he couldn't take another second of this without losing his mind, Rick's hips stuttered, froze for a second, and then shoved forward brutally while the older man almost cried out in pleasure. Daryls eyes flew open at the sheer amount of seed in his mouth, trying desperately to swallow everything he was being given, yet finding it impossible as a few drops leaked onto his chin. A single tug on his member was all it took to send him over the edge, moaning loudly around Rick's length as he spilled onto the bedsheets. The force of his climax had him seeing stars, and made him incapable of movement, even minutes after his release. Luckily, he didn't have to move a single muscle.

Rick had taken only moments to catch his breath before pulling Daryl off his cock and into his arms. He kissed him so sweetly then, confessing his love in soft whispers, cradling the archer against his chest. Daryl was still dazed, his body humming with the after glow, but the warmth he felt spreading through him at the cop's words couldn't be denied.

When he finally felt able to speak once more, Rick had buried his nose into his hair, humming an odd little melody that Daryl had ever heard before. He wanted nothing more than to sit like this for the next few hours, wrapped up in his lovers arms, but the night was bleeding away. And they would need their energy in the morning.

"Let's get some sleep." He said quietly, moving off of Rick's legs to lay on his side, looking up at the cop. He could see Rick swallow hard, blue eyes wide with surprise. He had never spent the night. Wisely, however, the sheriff didn't comment. Daryl watched as a grin spread over Rick's face, wider and wider until it was almost wider than his face itself. The redneck couldn't help giving his alpha a lop sided grin in return as he was joined by the older man, back pressing against the cop's chest and strong arms surrounded him. In only a matter of seconds, Daryl was asleep, wrapped up in Rick's scent and body warmth. It was the best night's sleep he had gotten in years.

The day after that particular event had been humiliating. Daryl could tell by the way people looked at him when he and Rick had shown up for breakfast together that they had heard. Everyone. He could feel the scowl on his face spreading, ready to snap at (or rather punch) the first person to mention it. But much to the redneck's surprise, after a few moments of awkward silence at their entrance, the group went back to its routine, chatting over breakfast and gearing up for whatever work they would be doing today. A warm hand on his shoulder made Daryl turn his head, only to see his sheriff grinning at him like the freaking Cheshire Cat. Like he was saying he had told Daryl so from the very start. No one seemed to care that they were fucking, not a single one. It was a relief.

His anxiety, however, rose once more as Carl joined his father for breakfast. The boy was unusually silent, poking at his food and moving it around the plate rather than eating it. He was frowning too, and Daryl could feel his stomach turn. Did Carl not approve? Did he think his Dad could do better, that he wasn't good enough? Would Rick listen to his son, and end their arrangement? Bile was already rising in his throat, and he was gearing up to leave when Carl finally did speak.

"Daryl. Does this mean you're my dad now, too?" The question surprised the hunter, causing him to glance at Rick, silently asking for help with handling this unexpected conversation.

"Do you want him to be your dad, Carl?" Rick asked, his voice soft in an attempt to sooth the young boy, indirectly soothing Daryl in the process as well. Though he still felt anxious, he knew Rick wasn't going to let him do this on his own. He was going to help him through this. He wasn't alone.

"..Yeah. That'd be pretty cool." Carl responded after a moment of silence. "Only if he wants to, though."

Daryl was speechless. He had thought of Carl as his own since they had reached Hershel's farm, and Judith the second he had laid eyes on her. He had never dared to dream that Carl would accept him as a parent. But Carl wasn't the only one that had a say in this. Rick had to approve first, had to allow Daryl to be a father to his son. Because in truth, being seen as Carl's father was something he desperately wanted, the prospect of having such a clever son as the boy sitting across of them filling his chest with pride. He couldn't give Rick children of their own, but he damn sure could protect and die for the ones he already had.

"If its fine with your dad.." He answered slowly, lowering his head a bit out of pure instinct, a display of submission as he waited to hear Rick's reply.

"Look at me, Daryl." The archer's head snapped up at the soft command, brown eyes filled with uncertainty as he struggled to keep his facial expression blank. His fear had been unneeded. Rick was smiling warmly at him, taking the redneck's hand into his own below the table and squeezing it gently. "You've been Carl's and Judy's dad the minute ya took care of 'em when I couldn'. Just wasn't official. We can make it official now."

It was entirely too good to be true, and for a second Daryl really contemplated on this being a dream, but when the moment didn't end, didn't dissolve as a dream would, he knew it was real. Tears were pricking his eyes as he looked at Carl once more, the boy that was now officially his son, too.

"A'right." Was all he could say before getting up and walking away. He was going to be dammed if anyone saw him crying.

"Dad!" The sound of his son's voice made Rick's blood freeze in his veins. Something was wrong. Whirling around, Rick watched in horror as Carl dragged Daryl along the road to the prison, the hunter barely staying on his feet as they stumbled towards the gate. A small group of walkers were on them, much too close to his family.

"Open the gates!" Rick hollered as he ran towards the pair beyond the fences, grabbing hold of a shovel on his way. Maggie and Glenn were already there, opening the gates, guns at their hips. But Daryl and Carl were shielding most of them, keeping them safe from deadly bullets. And so Rick did what he had to do to keep his family safe. He ran forward, lifting the shovel as he went, brushing past his son and mate to take down the nearest walker.

"Help them!" He called out, bringing the shovel down on a second undead as he moved backwards, doing his best to keep them off long enough for them to get to safety. Daring to throw a quick glance over his shoulder, he caught sight of Maggie rushing Carl inside, Glenn having lifted an unconscious Daryl into his arms. With a last swing of the shovel, Rick shoved the metal part of his tool into the walkers head, and after pulling it out swiftly, retreated back into the confines of the prison. He wasted no time, dropping the shovel and catching up with Glenn and Maggie, grabbing his son by the shoulder. He couldn't look at Daryl, couldn't let himself lose it until he knew what had happened.

"What happened?" He choked out as they moved to the infirmary, where Hershel and Doctor S. would be, the only two that would be able to help now.

"We were. We were tracking a deer." Carl stuttered, eyes wide with shock, his skin a frightening shade of gray. "I'd just. I'd just taken it down when these guys were suddenly just.. there. They wanted the deer, and Daryl was gonna.. gonna give it to them. He was just going to leave, but.. they just shot him! He didn't do anything!"

Rick's world was spinning. Shot. Daryl had been shot. The memories of when the same had happened to Carl flooded his mind, the fear, the worry, the pain. How he had been forced to hold him down when Hershel had extracted the shrapnel. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and pass out. But he couldn't do that, not now. His archer needed him.

They had finally reached their destination, and Caleb had take a single look at them before he rushed over to a patient bed, motioning for Daryl to be laid on it. Rick still didn't look. There would be blood, no matter which body part hat been torn into by the bullet, and the sight of it, the knowledge that it was the redneck's.. It would have made him faint on the spot.

"Its alright, Carl, ya gotta calm down. What happened then?" He forced his voice to stay even as he turned his back on the archer and the people around him, kneeling down in front of his son, holding him by the shoulders firmly.

"They t-took the deer and left. They kept saying it was claimed or something. Dad, they were crazy. They were laughing when they shot Daryl." Carl whispered, eyes watery with the tears the boy refused to spill. "Dad.. is he going to be okay?"

"Go tell Carol, and get Judy." The sheriff said, ignoring the question he had no answer to. He could hear Caleb and Hershel talking to each other, hushed, as if they didn't want anyone else to hear. That alone told Rick that, whatever was happening, it wasn't good. "Go, Carl. Bring them back, but don' come inside, ya hear me?" Standing, he turned Carls body towards the door, giving him a small, urgent shove. "Go on."

He watched as Carl sprinted from the room, allowing himself just a second to close his eyes and breath. He had to turn around now, had to ask how badly his tracker was hurt. If there was anything he could do to help.

"How bad is it?" He asked, moving towards Caleb, coming to stand at the bed, and still not haven taken a look at Daryl. Just a few more seconds, he told himself, just a few more seconds, and I'll look.

"He's bleeding a lot." Came the short reply. Rick finally looked. Daryl's upper body was covered in blood, his angle vest clinging to his body. Shot in the upper chest. They had shot him in the chest over a god damn deer. Killed a human being over something he was going to let them have, anyway.

"Will he make it?" Was all Rick could ask, eyes glued to the smooth chest he knew so well. How many times had he touched that soft skin, pressed his lips against it and covered it in loving kisses.

"I don't know. You have to wait outside, Rick." Hershel answered now, grabbing Rick by the arm and pulling him away. "You know the rules. Partners and relatives stay outside."

"He needs me." The cop protested weakly, shaking his head as he was moved from the limp body. "Can't jus' leave him."

"You can't help him, Rick. Go comfort your son. Hold Judy. We'll come out when we know." The farmer insisted, pulling Rick towards the door, and this time he didn't resist. He wanted to stay with Daryl, but at the same time he was relieved. Relieved that he wouldn't have to see what they would do to him. Wouldn't have to see the life slip from his body if...

The door closed behind him and he was faced with more people than he had expected. Glenn, Maggie, Michonne, Beth, Sasha, Tyreese, Carol, Bob.. They all stood behind Carl, Judith cradled against Beth's chest, fussing as she reached out for her father. He took his little girl into his arms, holding her tightly, pressing his face into the soft, blond hair growing on her little head.

"He's gonna be okay, Judy. You'll see." His voice sounded off even to him, strained and choked, but it was the best he could do right now. "Your daddy's gonna be fine. He won' leave us. He'll never leave us."

Thoughts?