The blast was foremost a blinding, burning light. Then there was pain, but not much. That would come later, and he almost knew then that it would. But now there was no time to know anything else, like what the fuck had happened. Blinding light, pain, then blackness, nothing.

When he first came round he could hear voices, but indistinct, far away. They were not speaking a language he understood, but he felt too woozy to care. No real thought formed, only that it was still dark. Night time, maybe? Then nothing again.

The next time, he was fully conscious. And scared. He would later remember that first fear. Like a black woolen blanket, clutching him, consuming him. Dark, dark, always dark… He tried to sit up but couldn't manage. Without a visual cue there was no up or down, left or right. His head hurt so much. He struggled for purchase somewhere, anywhere, but his fingers only closed on emptiness.

And then there were hands on him, gentle, soothing. Rick. He didn't need to see him to know.

"Don't move, man."

Daryl groped for the hand on his shoulder holding him down.

"Where are we? Why… why is it dark?"

There was a pause, and it stretched, and stretched.

"There was an accident. An…" Another pause. Why did Rick sound so distressed? "An explosion," he finally managed.

Daryl tried to think back. They had been out scouting, he had been up front. An old factory, abandoned, maybe years ago. They'd been looking for fuel, not holding out much hope.

"There was light, such bright, bright light. So there was fuel, was that what blew up?"

He could feel Rick sit down next to him on the bed. "Daryl, we need to talk. But maybe now is not the time, not yet… Are you in pain, do you want some more meds? Hershel's given you IV morphine, but that was a while ago…"

"Rick…"

Daryl's heart was hammering painfully in his chest. What was going on? A small part of him seemed to have an idea, and was screaming with despair. He groped for Rick's hands again, and the other man gripped his fingers almost painfully hard. Daryl took a deep breath.

"Jus' tell me wha' happened."

Later, this first retelling never meant anything to Daryl. He heard the words, but they didn't penetrate. They got stuck on the outside, like little shards of glass.

Shards that shredded the cornea, tore through the lens and lodged themselves deep in his eyes. That dug into his face, scratched and stabbed. Heat burning, skin blistering.

Rick sat by his side as he recited the damage, breaking off every few words as his voice threatened to falter. Daryl gripped his hands tighter and tighter, trying to hold on to life, to his sanity. Finally, Rick couldn't go on. There was a long silence. Daryl forced himself to ask what Rick had not been able to say.

"'s it permanent?"

He felt Rick slide off the bed onto the floor. His hands came up to Daryl's face and he gently stroked his hair as he brought his own face close. The words were hardly even audible when they came.

"Yes, Daryl. Yes it is."

Daryl couldn't breathe. His throat was closing, his heart sped up in protest at the lack of oxygen. He felt himself go rigid, shaking hard enough to make the bunk rattle against its wall fastenings.

"Daryl, breathe!"

He could hear Rick, but far away. And anyway he had no control over his body, his lungs straining for air, his muscles contorting. He felt his back arch, painfully, his head banging onto the mattress.

Rick was suddenly gone, and Daryl heard him yell.

"Hershel, in here!"

So this was it, Daryl thought. Was this how it ended? No, his oxygen deprived brain corrected. It was already over. He felt strong hands on him, then a sharp prick into his arm, then nothing again.

He woke up to the sensation of warm breath against his neck, arms around him. For a moment he struggled again to remember, but it came all crushing back too quickly. His head was still aching terribly.

It was Rick holding him, of course. He would know this body anywhere. His lover's body, so strong, so gentle. His, ever since that awful day on the farm when they had found Sophia in the barn. Right now, he could tell, the other man was asleep.

Carefully, so as not to disturb Rick, Daryl brought a hand up to his face. His fingers touched bandages covering his eyes, and bruised and blistered skin. Even the light touch hurt, and he gave an involuntary hiss. He took his hand away.

So this was it. This darkness was his life now? He refused to believe it. The bandages would come off and then they'd see. Or would they? But what did Hershel know anyway? He was a vet, hardly an authority on human anatomy.

It wasn't working. Daryl could tell himself that Hershel was wrong all he wanted. Deep down he knew that it was a false hope. His chest felt heavy all of a sudden. Fearing that awful choking feeling to return he tried to relax, exhale slowly. He felt himself start to tremble again.

The trembling woke Rick. Suddenly the arms holding Daryl tightened, and Rick's quiet voice was close to his ear.

"I got you, man. You're safe. Just stay with me..."

Daryl's usual instinct would have been to flinch away from the tight embrace, but he and Rick had become close since the farm and had spent a lot of time similarly wrapped up in each other. Of course, Daryl had been able to see then. Now, feeling tense and raw his instincts were conflicting. The urge to bolt, to get far away was strong. But at the same time there was this new, all-encompassing fear. It made him feel alone and isolated already, and he strongly needed Rick to hold on, to keep him from disappearing into the sea of despair.

Daryl could feel tears prickle under the bandages, and it hurt. He tried to stop himself from crying and it was so impossible and painful he couldn't suppress a groan.

Rick shifted. "What is it? Are you in pain?"

Daryl nodded, not trusting his voice. He tried not to think about what Rick looked like just now, concern in his eyes. The thought of never looking into those blue eyes again made a fresh wave of sadness wash over Daryl, and more tears soaked the bandages, burning on raw wounds.

He groaned again, his hands wandering up to his face with a mind of their own, wanting to rip and tear at the gauze. Rick's hands caught his and held him. His voice was shaking with his own tears now.

"No, don't."

Daryl was shivering with the effort of suppressing the despair. He turned his head and buried his face against Rick's shoulder, sobbing.

"Shhh, don't, Daryl. You're just making it worse..."

Daryl gave a shudder, finding it difficult to take notice of anything outside himself. Rick shifted again, disentangled himself and suddenly Daryl was alone on the bed.

"No..." His hands groped blindly in thin air.

"I'm just getting Hershel, you need painkillers."

It seemed a long time to Daryl, alone in the dark and the burning pain, but then Rick was back. He could also feel another presence.

"Daryl," Hershel's low voice was soothing. "I'll give you some more morphine."

Daryl felt his arm being lifted and next the needle being inserted into his vein. Then Rick was back, strong arms around him again. Daryl curled into the embrace, trying to endure the receding pain until it was bearable. He gave a shaky sigh when it finally faded into the background.

"Better?"

"Yeah." Daryl could feel himself sliding back into sleep, but he fought it, for now. "Rick, how is this going to work? If I can't see…"

He could actually feel Rick's frown. "We will make it work. I," and the arms around Daryl tightened again, "will make sure you're safe. I'll protect you with my life, you know that, man."

Daryl didn't say anything. That wasn't what he was concerned about, and he was sure Rick knew this, deep down. He had no strength left now to explain it now, though. Daryl struggled for a moment to say something more but he could feel his mind slipping into oblivion again and finally gave in.