Disclaimer: The Walking Dead is not mine and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is for fun and not for profit.
Prompt from TwilightBrightStar: Daryl is sick and Rick watches him through the night.
When I Fall
As he falls it's his father he thinks of - "Damn clumsy fool," his pa would say. "Get the fuck back on your feet and get me a beer!" - and as he goes down he feels a moment of confusion.
Pa is dead. He, Daryl, is out on a run with Rick.
Rick.
Then the asphalt rises up to meet him - No, Pa, don't get your belt, please! - and blackness claims him.
When he wakes it's dark and unfamiliar - Pa will be pissed that he got lost - but before he can get his bearings he slips back into unconsciousness.
The old wooden house that he's lived in since he was a baby is on fire, flames greedily licking and consuming - did Pa and Merle get out? - and he's trapped inside.
Flames leap up all around him and he knows if he survives Pa will give him an ass whooping because he's sure this has to be his fault.
Burning, burning, it's all burning and he begins to scream.
His eyes blink open and it's still dark and he feels unbearably hot mostly but there is a pleasant coolness on his forehead and he groans.
"Pa?" he tries to ask and his throat feels like he's been gargling crushed glass but he must manage because a voice answers.
"No, Daryl, it's me. It's Rick. We're safe for now."
Rick.
Fuzzy memories come back to him. They had been on a supply run, he and Rick, but the car had been stolen and they had been jogging back home to Alexandria.
Vaguely Daryl remembers his head swimming with dizziness. He had been fighting a cold or a fever or both for a couple of days but he hadn't said anything about it to anyone.
"Wha...?" he tries to ask but his eyes slip closed and for awhile he loses track of everything.
The next time he wakes he can tell he is in a barn and for a moment he tenses, not remembering how he got here, but then he catches sight of Rick pacing from the door to the windows and back again, an endless loop, and he relaxes.
He trusts Rick.
If Rick is here and on guard then he must be safe.
'You really are his bitch now, huh little brother?' Merle's voice asks and Daryl frowns but before he can answer the blackness comes back.
"You collapsed and hit your head on the road. You have a concussion," Rick tells him and Daryl blinks slowly at him.
The world around him has acquired a blurry out of focus quality and he fights down nausea.
'Tripped over your own two feet like a fuckin' pussy,' Merle tells him from over in the corner and Daryl groans.
"Not a pussy," Daryl snaps but he's unsure if he actually says it or just thinks it.
"Get some sleep," Rick tells him. "I'll keep watch."
'That's right. Little baby Daryl has a boo boo on his head,' Merle says mockingly. 'Sleep little baby.'
Sunlight wakes him and Daryl moans and throws an arm over his head.
"How're you feeling?" Rick asks from a few feet away.
"Like I got hit by a truck," Daryl admits, struggling to sit up. "What happened?"
"You were burning up," Rick tells him. "Fever was too much and you passed out and hit your head. Between the fever and the concussion you've been pretty out of it. You remember anything?"
Daryl leans against the wall and thinks. "Running," he says finally. "Car was stolen and we were running." And Merle was here, he thinks but doesn't say. Fever and a concussion, Rick had said. Daryl guesses one of those things explain his fuzzy memories of Merle. "You stayed with me," he says instead and Rick smiles faintly.
"It's what we do," he acknowledges. "You should get a little more rest and then we'll see about heading back. The group must be worried," Rick says and Daryl wants to object, wants to say they can head out now, but the small bit of talking he's done has exhausted him and he's already falling back asleep.
-End.
A/N: Short, I know. It was supposed to be longer and more in depth. Sorry about that.