Truth and Uncertainty
Summary: Glenn and Daryl finally have their talk. Much is said; nothing decided. Part 3 of the Just This Once series. Season Three.
Warnings: Infidelity, A not-so-nice, selfish Glenn, some swears.
Parings: Glenn/Maggie, Glenn/Daryl
Glenn shifted uneasily in his and Maggie's bunk, keeping his movements small so as not to wake her. Her head rested on his bare chest, hair a dark halo against his pale skin, and her breath ghosting warm on him. She shifted with his movements even in her sleep. Maggie's gentle warmth, and the things he'd done and promised yesterday only reminded him of Daryl, and the things they'd done together. The actions Glenn had initiated. That, on top of the shit that had been stirred up by the Governor, had guaranteed that he hadn't slept more than three hours a night in two weeks.
As usual,instead of growing sleepy, the longer Glenn laid there the more his uneasiness grew, until it was a roiling pit of writhing snakes in his stomach. He stared at the bunk above him, trying to discern it's most intimate details in the dark, begging his mind to switch off.
It didn't work.
The ticking of his pocket watch resounded in the quiet of their their cell, drilling a hole into his brain. It was accompanied by Daryl's face and the sense memory of his rough hands and mouth on Glenn's body. He looked over at the cupboard where the watch dangled on it's golden chain, catching the obscure light and gleaming faintly.
My fault. All my fault, he thought bitterly to himself. I've ruined everything.
Guilt and desire warred within him, and soon the writhing snakes had morphed into a hard, implacable knot beneath his ribcage. With a defeated huff, he slowly extricated himself from Maggie, and sat up on the edge of their bunk.
Maggie propped herself on an elbow, and Glenn felt her fingertips drift across his clavicle. The hard metal of her new engagement ring felt foreign.
"Where are you goin'?" she murmured sleepily.
"I need some fresh air," he whispered. He turned and kissed her lightly. "Go back to sleep."
Glenn rose, tugged a shirt over his head and slipped on his sneakers, listening as Maggie's breathing evened out once more. He checked that his weapons were secure before leaving the cell, grabbing the watch too, and tucking it into his pocket out of habit.
He crept through the slumbering prison, trying to ignore his churning gut and pretending, even in his own mind, to consider actually going outside. He knew exactly where he was going.
Daryl was sitting up in the guard room on the second floor, just as Glenn had known he'd be. He was fiddling with his knife, turning it this way and that so it caught the candlelight. Glenn took a deep breath and kept walking. Daryl whipped his head about at the scuff of Glenn's shoes, then scowled and shook his head, turning back to his blade.
"You'd best not be looking for an apology," Daryl said. His voice was low, and gruffer than usual.
"No, I just..." Glenn trailed off, noticing Daryl's puffy eyes and red nose. He stopped on the threshold. "I wanted to tell you I'm sorry... about Merle."
Daryl snorted. "No one's sorry 'bout Merle. Least of all you. He had it comin'."
Glenn breathed in, profoundly conscious of the way even their lightest whispers echoed down the cell blocks. "Maybe not," Glenn admitted. "But, I'm sorry you're hurt."
The words were so full of inadvertent truth, that Glenn fell into temporary speechlessness, chest aching. He could tell Daryl's face was aflame, even by the dim light.
"May I sit with you?" he asked eventually.
Daryl nodded wordlessly, and Glenn took the empty chair beside him. They sat in silence, listening to the minuscule noises of the building around them; murmuring wind and several faint snores from their companions. For a time neither knew quite what to say to the other.
When the quiet had gone just a tad beyond comfort, Daryl turned self-conscious, defensive eyes upon him. "Since we're all likely to die tomorrow, I need to know. How long?"
Glenn didn't need to ask what he meant.
He pursed his lips, finding it difficult to collect his thoughts just then. "Since the day I was grabbed by Guillermo's guys. You ran for me, even though it was dangerous; even though you didn't like me. I knew I could trust you. That you weren't the person you pretended to be in front of your brother. You were... good." Glenn frowned at his inability to communicate his feelings adequately. He detested how something that felt so momentous in his own mind could sound so underwhelming and cheap when verbalized. It was so much easier with Maggie.
"And on the farm," Glenn continued, desperate to make him understand. "The way you were with Carol and Sophia. I saw how gentle you could be-" Glenn bit his lower lip, embarrassed. Why couldn't he just shut up? He kept making it worse.
When Daryl spoke there was a deep well of resentment and accusation weighing down his voice. "Why didn't you come to me then? Things might've gone different."
Glenn could envision it, waking up to Daryl every morning, kissing and making love with an urgency devoid of aggression. Holding hands, Daryl teaching him to shoot the crossbow, watching each others backs with obsessive attentiveness while scavenging together. The very idea sent pained sparks through his chest. But the thought of losing out on the love and experiences he shared with Maggie was just as excruciating; unthinkable.
"I didn't think it was an option." His voice was thick with regret.
Daryl exhaled quickly through his nose, then turned piercing eyes on him. "Are you going to tell her?"
"I don't know," Glenn said softly.
"You should tell her," Daryl remarked unexpectedly.
Glenn shook his head as his eyes prickled with something that he hoped was dust rather than tears. "Like you said, we could all be dead tomorrow. It's not the right time." He remembered the words he'd spoken yesterday, the promises he'd made, the ring he'd given her. It'll never be the right time, he thought privately.
"Well, that's your business," Daryl grunted awkwardly. "I am sorry about the other day, though. I was so goddamned pissed off at you... and I wanted you. It was wrong." Daryl was blushing furiously at his own forthrightness by the time he'd finished. He looked elsewhere, gnawing the inside of his lower lip.
As fucked up as Glenn knew it was, his heart leapt at Daryl's words. He desperately wanted to ask "do you like me too?", but the words seemed far too childish. And what if it wasn't the answer he wanted (and dreaded)? That inconceivable "yes" that would really change everything for Glenn. What if Daryl had been speaking purely about wanting him for sex and nothing else? Either way, the answer was loaded and dangerous – almost more so than the walkers. He knew he didn't dare ask.
"So what do we do now?" Glenn asked shakily, clasping his hands together. He knew it was a stupid question. The obvious answer was nothing, or perhaps just carry on as before and pretend nothing happened between us. He had the distinct impression that neither of those options would work. Glenn had already made his decision. He'd chosen Maggie. Proposed. There was no competition. Yet, he selfishly wanted them both, with a blazing, alarming desire.
Daryl shrugged noncommittally at the query. "I don't know. Why're you askin' me?" This is on you, was heavily implied in Daryl's tone.
There was a not entirely uncomfortable lull after that – both altogether too aware of Maggie sleeping less than twenty yards away – wrapped snuggly in their own brooding thoughts and the incessant ticking of Glenn's watch.