my tears ricochet

Chapter Seventy Two

"Oh, no. Stop," Rosita called dryly from the porch steps where she sat cradling a mug of coffee in her hands. Tara was seated beside her with a plate of toast that she was absentmindedly pulling apart, discarding the crusts for later, wincing sympathetically whenever a hit landed properly.

Abraham hit Daryl hard enough in the face that stars burst across his vision and he stumbled back, mouth flooding with the taste of iron. It was instinct to lash out with one fist, returning the favour with enough force it temporarily knocked the grin off of the other man's face. Some of the neighbours cried out in horror, staggering to their porches and the sidewalk as the two men brawled openly, cursing and spitting at each other between hits.

The ground caught Daryl when he was knocked down and his lungs seized up from the impact before he could peel himself off the pavement. "Had enough yet?" Abraham asked, wiping blood from his chin with the back of his hand. He blinked and it was Merle grinning at him like a shark, blinking twice more to properly see his midnight comrade.

"Go fuck yourself," Daryl snarled with an absent bite, clenching one fist and readying himself to return the blow. But Rick was suddenly between them in a blur of a windbreaker, driving Daryl backwards as he planted himself to cover him.

"You're gonna walk away now," Rick said to Abraham. "You're leaving."

"Oh, this here is a private discussion. But if you want to join, by all means." Abraham cracked his knuckles and smiled wider. "I think we were just wrapping up for the day."

"Stop it. Stop, right now!" Deanna called, running up to their scene.

"Hit him again and I'll kill you," Rick swore, a winter's frost radiating from his skin. "I'm not telling you twice."

They had staged the scene perfectly. Daryl had given Ivy the short notes of the evening before sending her back to bed with the knowledge that Maggie and Glenn would be coming on by in his absence, leaving the apartment to meet Abraham outside of his house. It was early enough that he avoided anyone who could have seen the bruises from the fight with Pete but the location summoned a fair audience once they got going. Three walkers were planted in Alexandria and they had to settle their charade of a blow out before redirecting attention to missing individuals.

But they hadn't factored in Rick taking a side.

"Damnit, Rick. I said stop!" Deanna's expression was pale with fury. And then she dropped back, fear bleeding through anger as Rick whipped out a pistol and swung it around.

"Or what?" He asked, scoping out their surroundings for the nearest threat. Abraham had shifted microscopically to cover Rosita on the porch, both hands raised up slightly. "Kick me out?"

When had Rick last slept? His gaze was bright like shattered glass, wildly trying to draw a line to keep the world at bay.

"Put that gun down."

"You still don't get it," Rick retorted, mouth twisted in an awful shape. Alexandria was gathering in a loose circle around the street and he glared at them. "None of you do! You're living in a fantasy. We know what needs to be done. We're the ones who live. You pretend that you get it, but you haven't had to fight for it. You're still wishing things were the same. You want this place to keep standing? Your way of doing things is done. Starting right now, we all have to live in the real world. We have to control who lives here."

Deanna's chin lifted slightly, defiant to the madness. "That's never been more clear to me than it is right now."

A man with a gun was a threat. It was a promise, a monster. It was power held in his hand, finger wrapped around the trigger. Daryl might have killed Rick once if Shane hadn't gotten him in a chokehold, pinning him down before he could gut him properly. His violence had been an effort to get his brother some kind of justice and now Rick was the one defending Daryl like a brother.