Rick watched as Daryl took off from the bar to the latest crime scene. Merle stayed behind, there was no reason for him to leave yet and he had decided another beer was in order. "You gotcha self a plan there Grimes"? he asked between gulps of beer.

Rick didn't answer right away. Hell he didn't have a plan. Not yet. He had always been the planner, but at the moment a good, solid one was eluding him. He looked over at Merle and just shook his head at him.

Merle finished his beer and standing up, placed some money on the table next to his brother's to cover his meal. "Well then I guess I'll head on outa here." And with that Merle gave a mock salute to Rick and left, throwing a little flirting wink in at the waitress on his way out.

Rick continued to sit, thinking about his lack of a plan. It was really bothering him to not have one in the works at least. Good ole Rick Grimes, always has a plan. He snorted to himself, then found himself drifting back in a memory.

Senoia, Georgia, 1984

Ricky Grimes, Master Planner of Mayhem.

Ricky smiled to himself. That was a good title for himself, if he did say so himself. There was no way Daryl could say this plan was stupid, no siree. And if he did, well that Daryl Dixon could go eat rocks. He looked down at his paper that he had swiped from his mom's reading area. The map was all set. Green crayon showed the area to go to, red crayon marked the dangerous parts (you know, like where that mean ole Mr. Boudreaux lived with his big ugly dog that always barked at Ricky.) And in yellow crayon, a big X. X marks the spot.

Just then there was a banging on the underside of the trap door. Ricky yelled down without opening it, "Password!"

He could hear irritated sighing from the other side.

"Oh for crikes sake Ricky, you know it's me!"

Ricky just smiled. "Me who? Say the password or there's no entrance!"

More grumbling from the other side, then quiet. Thinking that maybe he gave up and went back home, and not wanting to risk losing half of his team for his latest exploit, Ricky moved to open the trap door when he heard a reply.

"Ugh. Fine!" A beat of silence. "Ricky Grimes is the man, master of the better plan. There! I said it! Now let me in you butt face!"

Ricky smiled again, pleased with his latest password to the fortress. He leaned over and opened the trap door. Standing on the 4x4 wood studs nailed into the tree to act as ladder was Daryl, waiting to finish climbing up the tree and into the treehouse.

Daryl climbed up and in, scowling at Ricky. "Honest to gosh that is the stuuuupidest password yet" he said surly as he sat down cross legged, elbows on his knees and plunked his chin into his hands. He had on dirty pants with a ripped open knee, dirty shirt, and what looked like a fresh bruise on his arm. Ricky saw it and thought it kinda looked like a hand.

But Ricky Grimes knew better than to say anything to Daryl Dixon. Like his daddy said, it was best to ignore it. But he still kinda wanted to. But Daryl was his bestest friend in the whole wide world and if not asking him why he always had booboos meant he didn't get mad like Daryl's daddy tended to do, then he'd be quiet.

But he had more and better things to talk about anyways. He had a new plan. He couldn't wait to tell Daryl. Ricky grabbed his rucksack and pulled out two bottles of pop and two sandwiches. He gave one of each to Daryl and he took the others. Daryl took it gladly. He was hungry and his daddy was mad again and wouldn't let him eat. Daryl dug in while Ricky pulled out his map.

"Lookie Daryl, I got a good one this time!" Ricky said excitedly.

Daryl just snorted and kept eating. Ricky always had maps and plans and all that stuff. Sometimes they was good, he thought. But usually they ended up lost somewhere for hours, trying to get back home.

"Hey Daryl, ya know that old silo up by the grocery store where mama likes to shop? Well guess what, I heard from Timmy Goodall that there was gold buried in there. Can you imagine? If we found it we could be rich! I bet there's like, lots of gold there. Like I bet a hundred dollars worth!"

Daryl looked at Ricky wide-eyed. Wow, a hundred dollars of gold, he could be like a king with that.

"You sure there's gold buried there? Cuz that Timmy Goodall has a big mouth. At least that's what Mrs. Simpson down at the laundrymat says."

Ricky nodded his head hard enough to bruise his brain. "Uh huh! Cuz his big brother Mike said so too, and why would he lie? So whaddya think? We should go find it. I even gots a map all drawed out and a plan an' everything."

So for the next few hours little Ricky Grimes and his bestest friend in the whole wide world planned out their gold heist until Mrs. Grimes yelled up that it was time for dinner and for the two of them to get down out of the tree. Waving goodbye to each other Ricky ran inside his plantation style home for a nice sit down dinner while Daryl walked through the woods to his cabin, grateful that he got that sandwich from Ricky. He could hear his mama and daddy fighting and knew there'd be nothing to eat again tonight.

Rick was smiling to himself as he came out of his memory. God that little master plan had been a doozy. They had packed their bags with what they needed for their big adventure: a flashlight, sandwiches, bottles of pop, marbles, his mama's gardening trowel to dig the gold up, gum, a stick with a piece of paper on it to be stuck in the ground declaring it to be owned by "Grimes & Dixon Co."

Course what ended up happening had been very far from his 'master plan'. After being caught by old farmer James digging a hole in the bottom of his silo the boys had grabbed their bags and high-tailed it out of there, with threats of "I'm gonna call your mama boy!" thrown at them. They had been so scared at being caught they ran right past the Boudreaux house, startling, then riling up, his mean old dog Brutus who gave chase. That ugly mutt had finally forced the two up a tree until nearly dinner time before it had been deemed safe enough to climb down and race home. Both boys headed back to their homes with grins and scuffed knees. Ricky was already planning his next adventure, and Daryl knew he'd be right there with him, no matter how stupid it was.

Rick and Daryl had been friends since day one. They were always getting into trouble with each other. People always talked behind their backs about the odd pairing. Little Daryl Dixon, younger son of the town drunk. No one liked Dixon Sr. He was plain ole mean and was always given a wide berth. Not much good was said about the older son. Merle was always in and out of juvie, usually for stealing. No one ever seemed to notice the types of things he stole, like food, toilet paper, pants that were too small for him but just the right size for his baby brother. But he was a Dixon, and he had a mouth on him, so he was looked down on. Daryl managed to stay off everyone's radar. He was always dirty, always hungry, and always had new and interesting shaped bruises. But he avoided people as much as possible. Rick had been his only friend. Ricky Grimes, son of the town sheriff. Living a good life in a plantation home that had land and money and people who worked on the land.

It wasn't until high school when Lori had moved into town and caught Rick's eye that their friendship had seen its first rockiness. Daryl had never understood what Rick saw in her. He found her to be stuck up and snotty as hell. She came from money as well, and certainly acted like it. After latching her claws into Rick she had cleverly manipulated him, creating a chasm in their friendship. She looked down at Daryl, he was just backwoods white trash to her. A few years ago Rick had finally started to open his eyes to Lori's true personality. He shook his head at himself. His friendship with Daryl had suffered because of her. The only good thing to have come out his farce of a marriage was Carl.

But she had finally gotten what she wanted apparently. He wasn't exactly sure what it was to be honest. But he guessed Shane offered her something he hadn't. It was funny though, for all her condescension towards Daryl, Rick was proud of what the Dixon boys had managed to become as adults. Rick remembered the last stint Merle did in juvie. He'd been caught in Sam Jenkin's store trying to steal medicine and bandages for Daryl. Old man Dixon had beat Daryl with some kind of whip, flaying open his back. The clerk had caught Merle and called the sheriff. Rick's dad had gone down personally to arrest him. Old man Jenkins had come down to the store to see what was going on. When the sheriff and Jenkins had seen what was being stolen, they knew what had happened. They couldn't do anything though without someone, like Merle, stepping forward and telling them what was going on at home. Both older men had implored Merle to open up to them, but he refused to say anything. Merle knew if he said anything and his old man found out, Daryl would take the abuse, and Merle was scared to lose Daryl. One of these days his old man would go too far and end up killing Daryl. Sheriff Grimes knew Merle was two days from turning 18, and hoping he could scare Merle straight, decided to have him spend the night in the adult section of the county jail. He had gotten his own cell, but Merle had spent the night listening to the taunts of adult men who were hardened criminals call to him all night.

A week later, after the charges of theft had been dropped by Jenkins, the police and an ambulance had been called to the Dixon cabin. Dixon Sr. sat in his chair, gunshot to the head, a handgun placed in his hand.

In the other room sat the Dixon boys, the older sporting a black eye and a broken finger with his arms wrapped around the younger in a protective grasp, trying to hide the busted lip and split open eye of his baby brother, while he told the police how his pa had decided to end his own life.

Sheriff Grimes had taken their word for it that night, ruled it a suicide, and nothing was ever again said.

And now look at them, Rick thought. Both well respected, if somewhat hated, members of their field. Both of them top-notch lawmen.

Rick silently toasted the Dixon brothers, took the last pull on his beer, got up and headed out.

Daryl stood up and his damn knees popped. "Goddamn sound like a friggen old woman" he muttered to himself. He stretched his legs out while trying to not look like he was stretching his legs out, he'd be damned if he was caught "looking old".

"Snap, crackle, pop eh boss"?

Daryl sighed and looked up heavenward. Of course he wouldn't go un-noticed by the world's most irritating partner. Daryl turned and leveled his best glare at his partner. His partner of course was clueless and kept on going.

"So like, wow man, this one is cray-zay eh boss? Dude got his head popped like a damn grape."

Daryl had to, albeit reluctantly, agree with Finley on this one. If not for the knife in the eye he'd have written this off as not related to his current cases. Their perp was getting a tad more emotional here it seemed. He stood there, looking at what was left of one Robert Williams. Poor son of a bitch was sitting on the can when someone came in and beat the shit out of him and finished him off with the knife. His iPhone lay on the ground, Daryl picked it up hoping maybe he'd been on a call while taking a crap. Looking at the screen he snorted - candy crush. Figures.

And like all his other crime scenes, there was nothing in the area to give him any clues. No footprints in blood, 8 million fingerprints since it was a public restroom so he wasn't going to hold his breath there. Daryl set Finley to running the man's pertinents while he stepped back to allow forensics to get in to the tight area to photograph and do their thing. This killing had definitely escalated. None of the other vics had been beaten. So what had set the killer off on this guy? Hopefully he'd be able to learn more when the background check came in and he got some idea of who this guy was.

Daryl looked at his watch, it was coming up on 5. He was itching to go home. But he knew it wouldn't happen soon.

Once he made sure the body was being taken care of and forensics was finishing up, he headed back to the precinct to fill out yet another report. He pulled into his parking spot and killed the engine, and walked up the steps into the dismal building. He never understood why precincts had to look like something out of an apocalypse. Sure, he supposed it was intimidating to the people dragged in in cuffs, but for the slobs who had to work here it was depressing as hell.

He headed over to his desk and flung his keys down and grabbed his Garfield the Cat mug and headed over the coffee pot. He saw Michonne there and could have sworn she broke her plastic spoon inside her coffee cup while trying to stir sugar into it.

Michonne sighed and looked up at him. "Hey Dix, unless you want to end up on Jenner's table, I suggest skipping the java." She tossed her styrofoam cup with the tar-like coffee into the trash can. "Damn, I really need a jolt too," she muttered.

Daryl quirked his head at her and said "C'mere". He went back to his desk, Michonne following him. He sat down and opened a drawer, pulling out another mug, this one Hello Kitty. He handed it to Michonne, who was leaning against her desk across from him. She raised her eyebrow at Daryl. "Never struck me as a Hello Kitty type Dixon" she snorted.

Daryl just grinned. He had a habit of collecting weird things, he never understood why, it was just something he did. He reached in to another drawer and was trying to pull something off that had been taped to the underside of the desk.

"Be nice to me 'Shonne and I'll share with you". With that Daryl pulled out a can and held it up. It was red and in big bold yellow letters was the word "Jolt" with a lightning bolt.

Michonne's eyes went wide. "Oh my gawd Dixon where the hell did you get that? I haven't seen one of these in years! Holy moly those things are like 100% sugar and caffeine!" She looked giddy at the prospect of receiving the equivalent of an IV stuck right into her heart with caffeine pumped in on an open line.

Daryl smiled at her. "Yeah been saving this for an emergency, and I think today's as good as any." With that he popped the top, savoring the hiss of bubbles and poured half into Michonne's cup and half into his. He laughed as he watched Michonne hold her cup to her nose and inhaled it, eyes closed, like she was about to savor some kind of thousand dollar a bottle wine. She took a sip and a look of pure ecstasy came over her.

"See I knew you weren't the asshole most here make you out to be Dix," she said, still on her first-sip-high. This was pure heaven to her. She was a total sugar and caffeine addict, not that you could tell with her figure. She looked over at Daryl as he took a drink of his soda. He just shrugged. That was typical she thought, he's never been one for words. For all his harsh words and gruff exterior, she often wondered if there was a softer side to him.

Michonne took another drink. "Thanks Daryl, for sharing this with me. Appreciate it." Daryl snorted at her. "It's just a damn soda, not like it's a fancy dinner or sumthin." Michonne decided to wheedle him.

"So when do I get the fancy dinner then huh? Maybe I can wear my 'work' clothes and we can go to some five star joint and give the good people of Atlanta a show." She wiggled her hips at Daryl, and laughed when he went beet red and choked on his soda. Hell his ears were practically smoking.

"Aw fuck me Michonne, Christ I just snorted Jolt, oh my god that burns." And with that they both busted out laughing. Daryl was laughing and trying to clear his nose of soda, and erase the image of Michonne in her "work" clothes before burning ears became the least of his problems.

Michonne was wiping her eyes from laughing, "Why Daryl Dixon I done think you's flustered", she joked. Daryl kept chuckling and wiping his nose, trying to will the heat in his face to go away. "Yeah, I reckon I might be a tad" he laughed.

And Michonne decided to be brave tonight and do something she had secretly wanted to, but never had the nerve, to do. "I tell you what, whaddya say you and me head on over to Jimmy's and get a drink. I'm sick of looking at these walls."

Daryl looked a tad shocked, and panicked. Shit he hadn't gone out with a woman since Carol's passing. Before he could answer Michonne chimed in - "For a drink Daryl, not sex. Geez!" And she laughed again and polished off her Jolt. Daryl smiled and decided to go out on a limb. "Yeah, yeah that sounds good," he said, and then quickly added - "Drinks I mean! No sex! Or uh, uh 'work' clothes, just drinks!"

Michonne just laughed as Daryl pinked up again and he just shook his head like he was the biggest fucking moron this side of the universe. The two of them packed up their gear and decided to walk over to Jimmy's since it was a short walk and a nice night, and if anyone got tipsy they didn't have to worry about a car right away.

Look at them, they thought. Goddamn redneck and a colored woman carousing. Nothing would be better than to get the two of them out of the squad once and for all and make things right. At least Dixon was still not close to the right trail. For now anyways. If he started getting warmer, decisions would need to be made.

The figure in the dark watched as the pair walked over to the bar, and made plans.