stardustly | behind these four walls. ( vestigial ).

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behind these four walls. ( vestigial ).

Behind the sturdy wall and within the four walls, relief should have swiftly followed once everything fell into place, ringing with the realisation of not having to run for once and remain on guard. But for Rick, he didn't know how to relax and only dread pooled thickly in his stomach, skin feeling far too tight around his trembling bones. He kept it all to himself, though, knowing how closely the Alexandrian inhabitants would keep an eye on all of them, just waiting for the one slip up. Just one would send them all back to the hungry grasps of the walkers and Rick couldn't be the one to make it happen. He needed to use a level head and ensure everyone found a place within the community of normalcy. At least, to a point, he never wanted them to lose the razor sharp edge they all had in case they needed it again.

Eyes moving around the living room, Rick took in each face of the group, seeing the cautiousness in their eyes and the blooming hope of what could happen for them now. They could live rather than just exist. He should have felt happy. Why didn't he feel happy? Shaking the lingering thoughts, Rick moved around to help Glenn with getting everyone settled. Deena told them they could have their own houses and space but for now everyone wanted to stay in one, which so happened to be the Grimes' residence. Everyone rested there except for one, something Rick didn't find surprising.

Squeezing Glenn's shoulder on his way out the door, Rick leaned against the railing. His eyes drifted down towards Daryl, hip cocked to one side slightly. "Gonna sleep out here?" Rick asked but it sounded more like a comment than a question in all honesty. He knew if he felt unease with the possibility of this, Daryl had to feel it even stronger. They kept on higher alert for the others to save them the weight of it. If they only knew the full extent of sacrifices it took to maintain such a balance.

"Never thought we'd see somethin' like this again. Real houses, streets to walk down without the threat of walkers." Rick shook his head, feeling the tightness closing in on his chest but he still kept it to himself. "What's your impressions?" He valued Daryl's opinions and the response would clue Rick in on if he should let go of his paranoia or not.

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"Lady in charged thanked Glenn for cracking her kid one," Daryl points out. "Most of 'em don't know shit, but some of 'em realize there is shit. They gotta start somewhere." He looks at Rick, contemplative. "You learned. You let me teach you."

That first winter, running from the ruins of the farm, Daryl frankly wasn't sure they were going to make it. If they hadn't pulled together, if Rick hadn't learned to hunt with him, learned his bird calls to communicate, if everybody hadn't become decent shots-- they'd have died. Period. But they adapted and they accepted.

"Whatever you say goes, you know that. I'll back you no matter what. I just don't want you to do something you'll regret later. 'Cause I know you will regret it."

Since when had Daryl become a voice of reason and not the kick ass first, ask questions later one? Although, in the past, Daryl had navigated him away from a few rather foul choices. It made him think of the dynamic he once shared with Shane and even thinking of the man caused a pang to flood through him. But it only strengthened Daryl's point, frustratingly enough. "You think they'd let us teach 'em?" Rick asked, grabbing for the glass to take another sip. He couldn't seem to take in enough water and actually having it at all felt like a novelty in a way.

"Alright, alright, you win, Daryl. Won't make a move just yet but we gotta think of some plans just in case. Map out some things to make sure our people will be okay," Rick voiced after a long stretch of silence on his part. He tended to fall into thought a lot lately, always considering and planning things. He never really rested. "Maggie suggested hidin' weapons round the place." Something Carol had oddly went against and Rick couldn't figure out why yet. They were all playing parts for the time being but what angle did Carol win with hers?

Setting the glass aside again, he leaned back on his hands. "If we make this work, we can start a new life here. Won't have to be runnin' all the time, lookin' over our shoulders."

Sounded too good to be true, though.

Edited 2017-04-06 00:33 (UTC)

"Don't matter," he grunts, about the idea of being 'let'. "They're gonna learn. Like kids eatin' vegetables. Just gotta."

(Shane. Now there's a blast from the past. All that feels like a lifetime ago, like they're being reborn and time moves differently now, children experiencing each hour for days. Daryl had been so jealous-- even if he didn't recognize it as jealousy, for a long time. He's accepted that he has a crush on Rick. He's just, you know. Never going to say anything about it. Ever. Some things are fine just being there on their own without ever getting poked at.)

He snorts at the idea of winning, and throws Rick a glance. "They didn't take our knives or my bow," he says, thoughtful. "Don't see why we can't stash a coupla guns. Emergencies." Daryl wants this to work out and he wants Rick to fucking chill out, but he doesn't have any delusions about this being easy. It's going to be a struggle.

"It's gonna work."

Now that sounded more like the Daryl he knew so well and the familiarity made some of the tension seep from his shoulders. He didn't completely relax but he did unwind somewhat. Some progress. But even before the world ended, Rick never really relaxed or 'took it easy', always trying to do anything and everything. It also didn't help he tended to keep things very close to his chest and didn't really speak on his emotions too readily.

"Could set up lessons with sign ups. Let 'em think they got a choice in it," Rick suggested with a weary shake of his head. What would the others think? If they only knew how young Carl learned to shoot and take care of himself. How many kids made their homes here and how many actually knew a thing or two about survival?

The mention of the bow had Rick's eyes lighting up some. "Speaking of, you've never showed me how to use it." He didn't consider it being too difficult because he knew how to shoot and use a variety of other weapons. Plus, Daryl made it look really easy, which could be deceiving but Rick had a lot of confidence. "Got to know all the weapons, case I'm asked." He didn't want to give any of the town folk reason to doubt his skill level because he didn't have a proficiency with something. "If you're up for it," Rick added, letting his voice drift in nearly a playful way. Shockingly enough.

Again, his need to be able to do anything and everything.

Rick can think of himself as emotionally distant all he wants but Daryl can read him like a book. A fully illustrated book in large font. Like knows like, after all; Daryl's the same way with his own feelings, never saying a damn thing unless he's pushed and pushed. Nights like these with Rick or Carol are as close as it gets, talking in careful circles around what they should be or want to be saying, but can't. As such, he feels pretty fucking confident that Rick needs to calm his ass down. He knows the other man's not going to transform back into a farmer overnight, but something's got to give, here, and it can't be Rick's sanity.

He sends the other man a sidelong glance. "Think you can wrangle a hundred and twenty pound wire back every reload?" Teasing. Draw weights on crossbows are a bitch, and Daryl's Stryker is meant for big game-- has to be, or else the bolts would never have enough force to take out things like deer, or penetrate human skulls. "Yeah. I'll show ya."

Of all possible weapons, Rick preferred a gun, partly due to his training but also because he grew up with them. Rick learned to shoot a gun very young thanks to parents who fully upheld the second amendment and practised it often. All the time spent at the shooting range in the past really helped all of them now. Along with Rick's growing appreciation for other weapons, especially hatchets and axes. All the weapons needing the right kind of grip and a greater level of control to wield. How could a crossbow be any different? He just needed to learn the balance of it and it would be another skill in the bag.

"Ya think I can't handle myself, Dixon?" Rick replied, eyebrows raised with his head cocked to the side. The tiny smile on his face kept the words from being taken into an offended category. An offended Rick Grimes happened to be a very dangerous one. But his steady hold on his moods were shaky at best lately having spent too long balancing an entire group towards safety and security.

"Look here, I get to see teacher Daryl," Rick continued, leaning in a little closer towards the other man. "Wonder how hands on ya are." More teasing, mostly to make Daryl uncomfortable because he enjoyed the eyeroll nearly as much as the huffing and under the breath retorts. "Can practise those fancy bird calls of yours while we're at it." Rick had nearly been a hopeless cause when it came to tracking and hunting but Daryl had managed to get him useful there. Helping him to see it like tracking a perp and things had fallen more into place.

"Yeah yeah, hands on, my boot in your ass," he grumbles, easy. Friendly bickering with Rick is easy. It's not a competition like it was with Merle, not on-edge posturing like it was with everyone else he was surrounded by before the world ended. Just ... normal. Something Daryl had never had.

"If you wanna give it a go in the dark, you're gonna be the one hunting for stray arrows," he warns. He's not worried, though. Rick's a fast learner, no matter what the subject is. And this is good - gets the both of their minds off of various shit. Daryl could do with something, anything that's not sitting on one porch or the other and agonize over his place in Alexandria.

An actual smile worked across Rick's face and he looked far less tense than he had a mere five minutes ago. "If I could be so lucky," he responded, winking quickly. Being able to tease and joke around felt foreign and apart of a whole different kind of world. In many ways, Rick had left behind the lighter parts of himself when he assumed the leadership role for the entire group. They needed a certain kind of image but the weariness of it had started to fray Rick down right at the seams.

"Deal," Rick agreed, already climbing to his feet, taking the glass along with him. "Won't be many arrows to find," he continued, sounding more confident than he actually felt. He didn't really do well with failure, not much of a surprise, honestly. "Lemme change and get some shoes then we can head on out."

Without waiting for a response, he set the cup in the sink and carefully made his way upstairs to change and shove some shoes onto his feet. He made sure to grab two knives and his gun before he left his room. Always prepared for the worst case scenario. He made sure to check in with Judy and Carl before he went back downstairs and out of the house. His eyes swept around quickly to find Daryl, the nervous energy working its way back over him. He really did need to do something before his mind wandered back to take over plotting.

Nonplussed, Daryl watches Rick hop up and go back into the house. He must really be keen on working some of that tension out if he's acting like that, trying to get a rise out of Daryl. It's fine. He's happy (is that the right word? he wonders) that he and Rick are close enough that they can ping-pong stupid shit at each other.

Maybe he needs to get laid or some damn thing like that. Rick's seen him eyeball that blonde woman, though he (and everyone) (e v e r y o n e) feels certain that's about some last-ditch effort to reclaim a dead man, Lori's husband, and not actual attraction, seeing as he and Michonne are... well. They'll notice eventually.

In some other universe where Daryl isn't terrified of his own shadow when it comes to intimacy and where he isn't sure Rick's straight as anything, he'd offer. But they're not in that other universe, and in this one, Daryl's just hanging around in the open space that counts as a back yard, crossbow slung over his shoulder. He raises his chin in Rick's direction. Ready?

Nodding his head, Rick led the way around the house and towards the gates to get outside of them. In a way, it felt freeing and he could understand why the others still wanted to be out there sometimes but they needed to find a way to keep everyone safe during those times. They also needed to train the others in the town if Daryl insisted on such a thing. He'd try to play by the terms set but if things went sideways, he would step in and change it. He would make the tough calls like always.

Giving a wave of his hand to the ones on guard duty, Rick waited for the gates to be opened and only nodded towards the spiel given to them to not stay out too late and to keep an eye out. As if they didn't know how to handle their own.

When they were past the entranceway and walking towards the woods, Rick let out a slow breath. "Worried for a moment they were gonna deny us and tell us to talk to Deanna." He didn't like anyone telling him what he could and couldn't do, least of all someone else in 'charge'. A role he had for too long to just easily step back from.

The woods were quiet, Rick stepping into them carefully to not make too much noise. They'd make enough with the crossbow. "How do I hold this thing?" Rick asked, innocently, waiting to see if Daryl would show him in a hands on way or not.

Daryl's seen people far less experience than the two of them come and go, so he doesn't share Rick's worry; no matter what this is, it's not Woodbury. Though sometimes he thinks elements of that place wouldn't be so bad-- safe, full of people just living. Just not run by a psychopath. And Deanna's not a nut, he can tell that much. He's uncomfortable with the general tone of the place but not because it might turn bad, just because he's a dirty redneck with no place in anything resembling civilized society. (Sigh.)

Meanwhile:

"With your hands."

Daryl holds out the crossbow to Rick, giving him a flat look.

Chuckling under his breath, Rick took the crossbow, picking up very firmly on the no nonsense way Daryl wanted to go about this. It didn't surprise Rick, honestly, because Daryl didn't exactly have the most joking approach to things. Usually, Rick didn't either but sometimes he cut loose a tiny bit. More so in the past than lately but he knew he couldn't stay too tightly wound or things wouldn't turn out well for him or for anyone else.

Adjusting the thing around, Rick tried to get a feel of it before he attempted to aim at the tree. He nearly hit it but didn't account for how much kickback the thing had. "Well, shit," Rick remarked, keeping to his word and walking forward to search for the bolt to reload it and try again.

The second time he moved into position, Rick did hit the tree but not in the direct center like he wanted. "You make this look easier than it is." He gave Daryl a look, mentally reminding himself to include the man in more things. He valued Daryl and never wanted him to doubt that.

He moved forward to grab the bolt out of the tree, reloading again to have another go. He could have kept using the other bolts until he ran out but just fetching one seemed easier in the long run.

Yeah, using the one bolt is the way to go - it's dark and the ground is dense with leaves; he can't exactly head down to the sporting goods store to buy more. As Rick goes to dig around again, Daryl hears an all too familiar shuffling noise, and waits with keen ears for a walker to stagger out of the dark. He stabs it in the head and shoves it away, rolling it with one foot so it doesn't infringe on their little game here.

"Think of it like a rifle with a shotgun kick," he suggests. "If your arm isn't steady enough to hold it real still after you load it, put the nose on the ground and pull it back like that."

The most pain in the ass part of any crowssbow is loading it. Daryl doesn't have any pulley-assist gadgets on there, it's the full draw weight - which is why his arms look the way they do. "C'mon. Up." He walks closer, standing just behind Rick's shoulder and getting him to hold the bow up so he can adjust his form, moving Rick's arm and positioning his hands.

The sound of the walker made him pause but Daryl took care of it before he had a chance. They were always pretty efficient together and it made them a strong team. The entire group were strong in their own ways, abilities honed from all the months working together. It helped them learn all of each other's strengths and weaknesses, the latter of which Rick preferred to not think about in a personal way. He tried to continuously rise above his own shortcomings to be what the group needed at any given time. No pressure or anything.

Nodding his head at the suggestion, he attempted to steady it, thinking of it more like a shotgun. He could handle any type of gun but never really preferred a shotgun even before the world ended. He preferred it even less after a few key events he tried to never think of.

Daryl moving behind him surprised him but he tried to not react much, allowing for the man to move him around as he saw fit. With everything adjusted, he took another shot and this time hit the target he intended to - right in the dead center of the tree bark. "Would you look at that," Rick murmured, liking the warmth Daryl afforded him, especially with the chill in the air. He should have remembered to bring his coat with him. He knew Daryl would move any minute, though, much to his disappointment. "We always do things better together, don't we?" he continued. He usually found it difficult to engage Daryl in anything remotely touchy feely but sometimes it worked. "Wanna try again?"

It's funny: Rick thinks he has a hard time engaging Daryl that way, but from Daryl's perspective, he has more physical contact with Rick than anyone-- maybe even Carol. He hugs Carol, lets her hug him, but it's Rick who he touches on the shoulder or pushes this way and that while creeping around, Rick who he absently brushes his hand against now and again. Little things that are normal and not worth noticing amongst normal people, but are significant to someone as skittish and repressed as Daryl.

"Reckon so."

It serves as an answer to the rhetorical - yes, they do things better together - and the actual question. Alright, one more go. He nudges Rick to go fetch the bolt, as per their agreement, and waits to nitpick his form when he gets back.

"You could do some more farming, assuming we settle in right," he says as he positions Rick's elbow. His tone is half-serious, half-teasing.

Over the course of the past few months, Rick had notice how Daryl seemed more comfortable around him. The linger touches, the looks the other man probably didn't know Rick saw. He didn't quite know what it all meant but he liked it all the same and he knew he would fall apart without Daryl. They kept each other balanced in a way he hadn't experienced since before things ended with Shane. The world had changed Shane but he couldn't really judge now when the very same happened to him.

Letting out a huff, Rick went over to the tree to pull the bolt out, twirling it between his fingers on his way back into position. He loaded the thing and let Daryl move him all around again to try it. "I like learnin' this but I'll stick to guns and the axe," Rick voiced, eyeing the tree for a moment before giving another attempt. He hit the same area, causing a pleased look to cross his face. He preferred being proactive and doing things, rather than 'relaxing' or just sitting about in any sort of way. Idle hands worked very against Rick.

Getting the bolt, he loaded it and looked over at Daryl. "Ya miss farmer Rick?" he questioned with a teasing air to his voice as well. "I kinda miss him. Don't know why they haven't already tried growin' stuff here. Real important now with resources getting more and more scarce." He nodded his head, considering it a little more. "You plan on helpin' me? Maybe we can go look for supplies tomorrow?"

If asked, Daryl would say the same thing has not happened to Rick, compared to Shane. Sure, Shane was quicker on the trigger from early on, he was ready to embrace the darkness - but he wasn't doing it for altruism, or from a position of leadership. Daryl had known since he and Merle first rolled up on that group outside Atlanta: Shane was a coward. He sat at the camp and bossed people around but never lifted a finger himself to so much as sit on watch, much less anything as risky as go hunt or go on supply runs. He was selfish and just wanted to clutch Lori and Carl to him, everyone else be damned. He was nothing like the man Rick's become.

That fateful night when Shane framed that kid, murdered him, led Rick off-- Daryl'd known what was going on in an instant. He could have easily followed the two of them, but he had complete faith that Shane wasn't going to be the one coming back. They had to handle it, and Rick had to win. And that was that.

"Naw. Gotta make sure y'all get your protein. Fall comin' up, I wonder if there are any bears around still. Bear'd feed everybody in there for the whole season. Kinda gross though."

Daryl puts his hand beneath Rick's upper arm, fixing his posture. Hm.

Thinking of the past only rattled things loose in Rick's mind, reminding him of all the times he should have done better and made other choices. No one could be perfect, of course, and he knew it but leaders needed to rise above normal shortcomings and be something greater. They needed to be more than their humanity and sometimes Rick wondered if the others saw him as larger than life. It could explain why they were so upset when things didn't go right because they believed he could do anything. He really wished he could.

"Could still go on a run with me," Rick responded with a shake of his head. "Reckon, there might be. Haven't seen much big game in awhile. Might'a gotten eaten already or died off." He could safely say he had never sampled bear or really most of what they had eaten in the past. "When did ya have bear? What's it taste like?" He had gotten on board with the squirrel but didn't know how he felt about eating a bear. "Wish we could find some cows or chickens." He really missed hamburgers, okay.

The heat of Daryl behind him made his head swim a little and the zing each time the man touched him kept distracting him. He needed to focus but all the long days with little sleep made it harder from him to keep his normal walls in place. "How do your arms not hurt with this thing all the time?"

Once in place again, he took another shot, this time hitting the exact same spot he had before. Just what he wanted. "Would ya look at that. Gettin' pretty good."

"Had bear pretty often," he says with a shrug. "Black bears everywhere up in the woods back home, always in everybody's garbage cans and sheds n' shit. Worse'n goddamn raccoons. They just taste like whatever they eat, is all, so it's fine if they've been eating fruit and leftover pizza but you get one that's eatin' nothing but fish, even, and it starts to get weird. Imagine one that's ate walkers for years."

(Barf.)

Hmph. Rick's almost wobbling. He must be more tired than Daryl thought - or it's just finally getting to him. Still, he's hitting the target. Damn show-off. Daryl just grunts. Yeah, yeah.

"Who said my arms don't hurt?"

Every now and again, Daryl would give random insights to his life before everything happened and the world ended, something Rick always appreciated. He enjoyed getting to know everyone better but found the task harder with someone as standoffish as Daryl. The man didn't easily let anyone near, except for him and Carol it appeared. It made him wonder if he and Carol were really close. He would be happy for them, of course.

"A lot of animals now probably have that diet," Rick reasoned with a tiny shrug of his shoulder. "We've probably eaten few things that munched on walkers." He hoped not and tried to not think too much about it.

Going off to grab the bolt, Rick loaded with again with a low grunt of his own. He had new respect for how quickly Daryl managed to handle the crossbow. "Just lemme know when and I'll rub them for you," Rick offered with a smirk because he knew Daryl wouldn't accept the offer. "You can do my shoulders in return. Swingin' an axe round gets to ya." More teasing.

"Tomorrow we can set up those lessons and go on a run. Sure Rosita will be up for teachin'." Rosita knew how to do most things they asked of her, which always impressed Rick. "Same with Sasha. Don't reckon Carol will." Carol seemed to be playing up another kind of part. "Don't think they'll want the younger ones learnin' yet. Mistake, though."

Daryl just makes a 'hn' noise, but doesn't feel like elaborating about game; yeah, everything's been eating rotting flesh, but bear just has some weird magic quality about its meat. Not as bad as wolf (DO NOT EAT WOLF) but still. It'd probably be fine, though, they could just... marinate it. (In what, Dixon.) Anyway.

His eyebrows go way up at Rick's - flirtatious?! - behavior, visible even with his naturally stoic face and the hair over his eyes. What are you up to, Grimes?

"Carol don't want a repeat of the prison," Daryl points out. She'd been teaching the kids there, but in secret, and her desperation and vigilance had resulted in Rick banishing her. The only time Daryl's ever really argued with Rick since they left the farm had been over that. Carol's just... Carol. If she hadn't shown back up, Daryl doesn't know what he'd do. He can't pick between her and Rick, he just can't. "Ain't gonna happen, though."

Guilt worked its way over his face and he ducked his head slightly as memories seeped in and out of his mind. He wished he had the ability to change the past and correct so many wrongs he caused. The situation with Carol being the top of the list but at the time he thought it had been the right call. She had gone over the edge, regardless of intentions, something he knew all too well. Banishment had been too harsh but it had been in the efforts to stop retribution by other means. If he hadn't done it, they would have had worse back then.

"I can't ever make up for that but I'm tryin'," Rick commented, looking back up and over at Daryl. "It won't happen again. We've got to stick to each other as close as we can." Something just felt uneasy and Rick couldn't shake the foreboding lingering in the air. Things were going too well at the moment and he just couldn't trust it.

"What she's doin' now won't last. We can't just pretend to be what we think they want. Eventually they'll see through it." He gave a shrug and decided to try one more time to fire off a bolt. This time he adjusted himself and tried to hit higher than his earlier attempts. If push came to shove, he wanted to be able to use the crossbow in case he needed to. They couldn't have any weaknesses.

"You don't gotta make up for it," Daryl says, mood abstracted. "What's done is done. She knows that. I know that. She just cares, is all." And then he's quiet, listening to Rick and watching him mess around with the aim. Sheriff Grimes isn't too bad with it, though Daryl knows from experience (both personally and from teaching) that trying to hit anything moving or without much time to take aim is a longer undertaking.

(The last person he taught any was Beth.)

After a time, he sighs.

"That sounded suspiciously like faith in these people, by the by." Eventually they'll see through it.

As he took the shot, he also tried to take in Daryl's words, attempting to believe them but knew he wouldn't. He held guilt closely around his neck and in most ways it motivated him to keep pressing forward and never stopping from what needed to be done. It made him try harder and to be better, sometimes impossible but he knew the score. He knew how to undo himself to ensure the others would be okay.

"It ain't faith. I just know how these things go. They'll be watchin' us and just waitin'. They already wanna know what we're all 'bout. We give 'em any doubts and they'll run with it," Rick explained, walking over to get the bolt and load it back in. "My arms are gonna be so sore later," he remarked with a shake of his head. "Just like when I started usin' that axe all the time." It didn't hurt his arms now but in the beginning it sure did.

"We should hide some weapons round here just in case. It's close to Alexandria but not too close. Never know what might happen." He liked to prepare for every single disaster and he still didn't have a lot of belief of Alexandria being permanent. When did things ever go their way for long? "Want to set up plans just in case. Never know. Wanna go on a run tomorrow. See if we can find some things to grow. Maybe see if we can find anythin' to hunt. Make ourselves real important. Vital."

"They'll be watching like that if you don't quit actin' so paranoid and wound up," Daryl counters, though there's no hostility in his voice. He gets it, he does. He just wants to give Rick something else to consider, too. "It's broadcasting from you, man. Reckon I should find you in the dark just lookin' for the 'I don't trust nobody' rays."

He huffs as he steps closer again. "'Cause I know what they look like." Remember Daryl in the early days? What a trainwreck. He's still a trainwreck, but now he trusts his people. Daryl reaches over and lays a hand on the back of Rick's bicep, pushing his fingers into the muscle where it's going to hurt tomorrow. "Stretch in here. And yeah, sure. We'll find a spot to stash somethin'."

Letting out a slow breath, he muttered a few choice things under his breath but without any real heat to them. He knew Daryl had a point, loathing to admit it but even still he didn't exactly know how to relax. Taking it easy had never come naturally to him even before the world they knew sputtered and died only to rise again and again. "Anytime I let my guard down, things happen," Rick muttered, voice a little louder for Daryl to actually hear him. "Don't want to be caught unaware this time. Somethin' just don't feel right." Considering what they just went through, of course, things wouldn't feel right yet. Alexandria seemed too good to be true.

"I trust you," Rick responded, about to say more but Daryl touching him halted any and all possibilities or general thought. "That feels good," he murmured, nodding his head in a jerky kind of way because again how could he really think? It had taken them awhile to even reach a point of being somewhat close to one another. Daryl had been very, very skittish but loosened up as the months went on. A state Rick needed to reach again, apparently.

"Gotta be some place in between," Daryl says quietly. Some place between being wound up to the point of near-breaking, like Rick seems, and being totally defenseless. Inside, Daryl feels shattered - he's a complete failure, unable to hold things together at the prison, unable to find the Governor, unable to save Beth; his time being on the council was a sham - but he wants to hold it together for Rick. He deserves the support.

I trust you.

Yeah. Daryl can't fold now. He has to be okay.

"Tired yet?" He still has a hand on Rick's arm.

Rick wished he knew how to make a balance work but he didn't want to try anything different when things were finally going somewhat in their favor. Any false move could topple it all and he didn't want to risk it. If it meant he remained on edge so be it, he would do anything it took to keep the rest of them together. They had lost too many and couldn't stand any other heartache.

"Maybe for some," Rick responded with a slight nod of his head. "Yeah, I'm feelin' a little tired. Are you?" He looked over his shoulder to look at Daryl, taking him in for a moment. He never had much of a chance to just look and not try to have a purpose for it.

Letting out a soft breath, he tried to not lean into Daryl because he knew the man wouldn't accept it. "How are you, really, Daryl? You've gotta talk 'bout it sometime."

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behind these four walls. ( vestigial ).

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