Rick and Daryl are in the back of an old Chevy. They're on their way to the Kingdom, and Tobin is driving. At almost the last moment their plan had changed. It was going to be Aaron, Jesus, Rick and Daryl going to the Kingdom. Aaron was going to bring Eric back to Alexandria, Jesus would go on to the Hilltop to bring news to Maggie, and Rick and Daryl were going to stay on at the Kingdom, to get Daryl the help he needs.
But last night word came from Maggie that a huge herd had come upon them, and that something about it felt like a trap. Rick wanted to set off for Hilltop immediately, postponing their other plans. They were all gathered in the corner house, and Jesus spoke first.
"We need to find out details," he said. "We need a plan, a strategy. We need to know if this changes our tactics. Until then, nothing can be done." He looked to Daryl, who was sitting at the kitchen table. Rick's eyes followed, and a stab of guilt pierced his heart. How could he have considered putting something else before Daryl's wellbeing yet again? Daryl was pale and silent, tense at the prospect of not getting a chance to tackle his demons after all. He had fought with all his strength to get to this point. Had it been for nothing?
Rick took a deep breath. Hilltop wasn't life or death right now. They have many capable, willing friends who will do their part. Rick doesn't have to shoulder every single burden himself.
Jesus continued, "I'll go to Hilltop. I know the place, the people. I know all the weak spots. And I'll send word, here and to the Kingdom, as soon as I can." His eyes flicked again to Daryl, then to Rick. "You're leaving tomorrow, as planned."
So here they are. Tobin has taken Jesus's place. He'll be in the meetings with Ezekiel, then travel to Hilltop, then back to Alexandria. They have a whole network of these messengers now, and the system works well. Tobin is a good, reliable man, and Rick feels confident that he can do the job. And for now, all his focus has to be on Daryl. Last night in their room they didn't talk about the trip. Daryl had barely said a word all day. By the time Rick came to bed he was fast asleep.
The reason for his diminished energy, and his increasing withdrawal, is depressingly familiar. For several days, his digestive troubles have been getting worse again. Daryl never complains, never even mentions it, but he's looking more exhausted and pale than he has since his escape. Last night, for the first time in over a week, he jerked awake and had to make straight for the bathroom with a whimper and a curse. Only when he was safely back in bed Rick went to make the bark tea.
Now Daryl is staring out of the window, holding himself stiffly. Something is up. Rick tries to hold his tongue, and for a while they ride quietly. But when Daryl starts shifting restlessly Rick moves a little closer. "You alright?"
Daryl shrugs. "'s okay."
Rick hesitates, then reaches over and clasps Daryl's hand on the leather seat between them. Daryl doesn't look around, but his fingers tighten on Rick's. They feel clammy.
"Ya got any water?" he asks quietly.
"Course." Rick reaches into his bag, which is sitting in the space by his feet. He pulls out a bottle, unscrews it and hands it over. Daryl takes it. His hand is shaking.
"You need us to stop?" Rick asks. Tobin's eyes catch his in the rear-view mirror.
Daryl shakes his head in between sips of water. "'s okay," he says again.
It's most certainly not okay, but Rick knows Daryl well enough not to argue the point. "Why don't you catch some sleep?" he says instead when he takes the water bottle back.
"Yeah, alright." Daryl gives a jerky nod, then tries to wriggle into a more comfortable position. Rick reaches over again and unbuckles Daryl's seatbelt. Daryl gives him a sideways glance. Rick shrugs. "Risk worth taking." The belt has been cutting into Daryl's aching belly all through the drive, but of course Daryl didn't even consider making things easier for himself.
Daryl's eyes are soft, and a little wet. "Thanks," he murmurs. Then he curls up, resting his head against the window. His arms are tightly wrapped around his middle. After a few minutes, his breathing evens out as he falls asleep.
Rick leans forward in between the seats. "Everything quiet out there?"
Tobin nods. "Totally deserted. This road has been cleared well."
Aaron glances past Rick. "Is Daryl okay?"
Rick shrugs. "Been better." He lowers his voice. "Tobin, we need a rest stop soon. He's trying to ignore it, but his body won't take much more, and there's nothing he can do to stop this from happening."
Tobin looks around sharply. "Should I find somewhere now?"
Rick considers with a glance at Daryl, whose face is pinched, but still for the moment. "Ten, fifteen minutes maybe. He'll be angry anyway, but I'd rather we stop before he's paralyzed with the pain."
"You got it." Tobin nods. They all know what they're looking for. Somewhere with a semblance of privacy would be ideal. After about five miles Tobin slows down and comes to a halt near a concrete shed by the roadside. Rick sees the logo of the local electricity company on the front. Aaron locks eyes with Rick. "We'll check it out."
The two men get out of the car and, weapons drawn, slowly approach the crumbling power shed. Rick stays with Daryl.
The hunter didn't wake when they stopped, and it takes him another few minutes before he begins to stir. For Daryl to be so deeply asleep isn't normal. He definitely isn't well.
Finally, he sits up and rubs his eyes, and stretches with a wince. He looks around, then at Rick, his expression hurt. "We stoppin' for me?" His voice is flat.
"Yes," Rick says. What's the point in beating about the bush? "I knew we'd have to soon, so…"
"Told ya, 'm okay," Daryl interrupts him. Then he groans and presses a hand to his belly, biting his lip.
"You're not okay," Rick says quietly. "Why make yourself suffer when there's no need?" He wants to say more, wants to tell Daryl how much it hurts him, Rick, to see his lover in so much pain. But he can't. He can see the pain in Daryl's eyes as they flit to him, and next moment they cloud over as the cramps really take hold.
"Oww," Daryl whispers, curling up. Then, cursing, he's fumbling with the door and is out of the car, his hand still clutching his belly. He hurries past Tobin and Aaron, who are coming back from their reconnaissance, and vanishes behind the crumbling building.
Tobin climbs into the driver's seat and slams the door shut. "He didn't appreciate your solicitousness, I take it?" he says to Rick, eyeing him in the mirror and frowning.
"He's really not doing so good right now," Rick says quietly, feeling the apologies run thin.
"Suppose he's not," Tobin murmurs, then falls silent. Rick catches Aaron's eyes in the mirror next, and they are full of sorrow and sympathy.
"He'll be better soon, Rick." Aaron's voice is gentle. More loudly he continues, "We checked the perimeter. All clear."
"Thank you," Rick says.
After that, they wait in silence. Rick can't forget Tobin's question. It's true, Daryl is impossible to handle right now. He's prickly at the best of times, but to anyone outside their closest circle his behavior must seem ungrateful and childish. Carol will have told Tobin some of what's going on, but Rick gets it, that the man finds it hard to understand why everyone is going to such lengths to help their hunter. Of course, it's impossible to explain. There are no words for what their Atlanta family means to each other.
Rick doesn't even notice how tense he is while Daryl is out of sight. Only when he reappears from behind the concrete structure and slowly staggers back towards the car does he allow himself to relax again. Daryl clambers back into the back seat stiffly and leans into the creaking leather with a shudder. Rick pulls another bottle from his bag. "Bark tea," he says.
Daryl takes it, his sunken eyes dark with misery. "'m sorry," he mumbles.
As Tobin starts the engine and the car bumps its way back onto the road, Rick briefly squeezes Daryl's knee. "It'll be better soon."
They travel on through the heat of noon, the air conditioning on full. Both Aaron and Rick offer to take over the driving, but Tobin declines. All but Daryl eat the rations they brought. Daryl still sits curled up in the corner, sometimes dozing, sometimes staring out of the window. He doesn't speak, barely reacts when Rick hands him the water bottle. They stop once, briefly, to stretch their legs and empty their bladders. Daryl stays in the car, asleep again. At least he doesn't seem in distress at the moment.
The sun is just setting when they reach the outskirts of the Kingdom. Daniel, the guard on horseback, greets them and escorts them through the gate into the Kingdom proper. They park the car near the walls and get out.
"The king says he'll see you now, if you want a word," Daniel says. "But if you would rather go straight to your rooms then he will greet you in the morning."
Rick doesn't even need to glance at Daryl, who is barely upright, and still holding on to the car. "We're grateful to be given the choice, and will see Ezekiel in the morning," Rick says. "Please thank the king for us."
Daniel nods. "As you wish."
At that moment a familiar voice calls, "Rick!"
Rick looks past Daniel and sees Morgan come down the front steps of the nearest house. Morgan nods at Aaron and Tobin, and glances in Daryl's direction with a frown. "This way," he says, not losing time and gesturing down a nearby path. "I'll show you where you're staying." He looks at Daryl again, then at Rick. "It's not far."
Daryl seems hardly aware where he is. Rick goes over to his side and picks up Daryl's small bag. They both packed light and he can carry everything easily. "Morgan's gonna show us our room, buddy."
Daryl nods mechanically, and lets go of the car. They bring up the rear, Rick slowing his steps to stay by Daryl's side, in case his last bit of strength deserts the hunter.
They really don't have far to go. Inside a nearby building, Morgan leads them up a short flight of stairs. Daryl is struggling now, clutching the bannister and breathing hard. Rick hovers, he can't help himself. To his surprise Daryl catches his eye. "Gonna be glad ta be lyin' down," he gasps. His eyes have a feverish glow. Rick fights the urge to put his arm around the hunter and help him the rest of the way.
Morgan stops at a set of double doors. "This is the long-stay ward of the infirmary," he explains. To Aaron he says, "Eric is in the last room on the right." Then he turns. "Rick and Daryl, you're on the left, opposite them. Bathroom's in between. It's shared by the whole ward, but it's right next door." He gives Daryl an apologetic grimace. "Best we can do, I'm afraid."
"'s no problem," Daryl says quietly.
"It's just the four of you, anyway," Morgan continues. "We only set this floor up a short while ago." Now his look is grim. "Planning for the future." They all know what Morgan means. This war will make a proper hospital more necessary than ever, and soon. But for now, this is a haven of quiet, and Rick is grateful for the luxury of privacy and a little peace.
"Will you thank Ezekiel for us, please?" he asks Morgan, who nods.
"Of course. Tobin, you're in the men's visitor quarters, with me," Morgan continues. "That okay?"
"Sure is," Tobin says. Morgan turns to the three new residents of the hospital ward.
"Someone will bring you dinner in a little while. The rooms should have everything you need, but just ask if something is missing. There are people on the ground floor, they'll be happy to help." Morgan nods at them one last time. "Get a good night's sleep. I'll see you tomorrow." He turns and retraces his steps. Tobin follows.
Rick glances at Daryl, who is swaying slightly. He puts a hand lightly on the hunter's arm. "C'mon, buddy."
Daryl totters down the hall, with Rick and Aaron following behind. Aaron bids them goodnight outside Eric's room. Rick reaches past Daryl and opens the door to their bedroom.
A soft glow comes from a lamp on the bedside table. The room isn't big, but it holds all they will require. The double bed is neatly made, with a colorful quilt covering it. Daryl walks over and sits down on the mattress with a shaky groan. Rick places their bags on the two chairs by the small table in the far corner. He rummages for a moment in a side pocket of Daryl's bag, until he finds the little pill bottle Tara has given Daryl. The IBS medication doesn't seem to do much, but it's all they have for the moment. He pours a large glass of water and carries both the pills and the glass over to the bed. He sits down next to Daryl, who shakes two pills into his hand, puts them in his mouth, then reaches for the glass.
"You should go to bed right away," Rick says quietly, and Daryl nods.
"Can't believe 'm so tired. Slept all day, for fuck's sake," he says. "Man, I hate this."
"I know, buddy." Rick so badly wants to put his arm around his hunter, pull him close and soothe the misery and pain from him. But he doesn't dare. Instead, he just gently squeezes his thigh.
Daryl's face suddenly creases with discomfort. Rick hastily takes the water glass and pill bottle from him, and Daryl wraps his arms around his middle. "Ugh," he wheezes, then is up and out of the door.
Rick sighs and gets up, too. He unpacks their few belongings, hangs spare clothes into the closet and puts other essential items on the table and by the bed. They'll be here at least a couple of weeks, according to the arrangements Jesus has made for them. Then he stands by the window and stares down into the deserted alleyway next to the hospital.
When Daryl finally reappears, he is very white. Without speaking he strips off his boots and pants clumsily, and finally unbuttons his shirt, too, which is soaked in sweat. Bare chested and only in his underwear, he crawls onto the mattress with a groan and curls up under the blankets, with his back to the window and Rick.
Heart aching worse than ever for his hunter, Rick collects Daryl's discarded clothes from the floor and folds them over a chair. He lines up Daryl's boots neatly underneath it, then sits down in the other chair and waits. Daryl finally stops shivering and falls into an uneasy sleep.
Twenty minutes later, there's a knock on the door. Rick quietly gets up to open it. Morgan is outside, with their dinner on a tray. He takes in the situation with one glance. Lifting his chin, he indicates the table, and Rick steps aside to let him in. Morgan puts the tray down, then indicates that Rick should follow him outside. Rick carefully pulls the door closed behind them.
"I couldn't go to bed without checking on you again. He's no better, then," Morgan says without preamble.
Rick shakes his head. "Not really. He was alright for a while, but whatever this is, it keeps coming back. No pattern any of us can see. His body never has time to replenish the energy he loses during a flare-up, and every time he comes out of it he's a bit weaker. And this one now, it's a killer. The car journey was torture." He rubs his face. "Had I known he would be in such a state…"
"But you had to bring him here, so he can get proper help. For everything," Morgan says. "It was the right decision, Rick, regardless. If you want, the doc could probably come over tonight and have a look at Daryl."
Rick shakes his head. "Thanks, but no. He's on the edge already, he needs some time to get his bearings. A stranger prodding at him tonight won't help. He'll need to sleep off this day."
"Get him to eat some soup, at least," Morgan urges with a frown. "It's chicken soup. One bowl is mostly broth. I brought corn bread and butter for you, but the cook has put some crackers on the tray, too."
"Thanks, Morgan. For everything. You've been a great friend." Rick stops, fidgeting a little. Morgan senses his unease.
"What else do you need, Rick?"
"When he's like this, I make him tea. It's a recipe from Hershel…Maggie's dad. I brought it along, it helps with the cramps."
Morgan nods his understanding. "I'll find you a kettle. Mostly the electricity is okay, but if it goes, they have a small kitchen with a gas stove downstairs, too."
"Thank you." Rick suddenly feels an overwhelming need to tell Morgan everything, to talk about his fear, the anguish he feels as he sees Daryl's suffering, the half-suppressed conviction that they will never again be what they were before Negan took Daryl. But he can't, not yet.
Morgan senses some of it nevertheless. He claps Rick on the shoulder. "You did the right thing to come here. The doctors are good, they've dealt with trauma for years now, and they're rediscovering treatments for all kinds of ailments. Daryl will be fine. You'll see."
Rick can only nod. Morgan squeezes his arm briefly. "Go eat your dinner. You look exhausted, too. I'll be back soon with the kettle." He turns and walks down the corridor.
Rick returns to the bedroom. He stands for a moment, watching Daryl's still form. The hunter has hidden his face under the blankets, and only his tousled, slightly sweaty hair is visible. Rick dreads having to wake him. Daryl needs to eat, but Rick already knows how this will go. Daryl will force down a few spoonfuls of soup, white and tense-looking. The hunter hates disappointing and frightening Rick, and in his misery just makes Rick hurt more.
With a sigh, Rick carries Daryl's soup bowl and the crackers over to the bedside table. Then he crouches down and puts his hand gently on Daryl's head.
"Hey, buddy, wake up. Dinner's here."
As Daryl stirs groggily Rick hopes that Morgan will find a kettle. They'll need that bark tea tonight.