He's running. The fog is so thick, he can't see where he's going, or what's in front of him. Sweat runs down his face, into his eyes. It stings, he tries to wipe away the tears, but they keep coming.

Suddenly, the fog smells of smoke. He stops dead, panting, gagging on the stink of human flesh.

Where is he? Where's Daryl? He won't find him, Negan's taken him away.

Negan…

Glenn. Abe. Two dead. Daryl. One missing. His family, destroyed. His fighters, scattered and cowed. His hunter… What will that monster do to him?

And everything is his fault. He overreached, and others paid the price. He sat by, motionless, as that hateful bat extinguished lives that were his to protect.

Daryl, gone. His hunter, injured, traumatized and scared out of his wits. Will he get Daryl back? Does he deserve to even hope it?

"No…," he whimpers. "Noooo."

"Rick… Rick!"

His eyes fly open, he scrambles to sitting, the blankets tangled around his legs. His heart is hammering like mad, and he stares around himself in the darkness, panting.

"Hey, man," a low voice says close by. "It's alright. Here, wait…"

The bedside lamp clicks on, and Rick looks up at Daryl who is standing next to the bed, frowning down at him. Daryl is wearing only boxer shorts and his boots. He follows Rick's gaze. "My feet were cold," he mumbles.

"Why're you up, Daryl?" Rick asks, attempting to untangle his legs from the sheets. His t-shirt is sweatily sticking to him, and he shivers. Without comment, Daryl goes over to the closet and comes back with a fresh tee.

"Same as yerself," he says, holding the shirt out to Rick.

Rick takes it, and finally manages to swing his legs over the side of the bed. He quickly changes into the fresh shirt, then rubs his face. His heart is beating more normally again, his breathing under control. Daryl brings him a glass of water, which Rick accepts gratefully. While he drinks, Daryl sits down on the bed by his side.

"Ya feeling better now?" he asks, sounding worried. Rick tries to smile as best as he can manage, and leans his shoulder against Daryl's.

"Getting there," he says quietly. The horrible fear from the nightmare, that conviction that Daryl is forever lost to him, still penetrates his consciousness.

And the guilt. Two of the best men he ever knew are dead, and Rick sat by and let it all happen. He shivers again, this time not from the chill.

"Hey, 's alright," Daryl says and takes Rick's hand in his. The hunter's fingers feel icy and clammy. Rick looks up, alarmed.

"Daryl, you okay? Was it just nightmares."

Daryl's free hand comes to lie against his belly unconsciously. "And my damn gut. But it's okay," he adds quickly, heading Rick off. "Took a couple Benadryl, and it's as good as gone. Didn't have the runs or nothing."

"There's always the codeine, if it hurts too much," Rick says. "I'm sure an extra one here and there won't do any harm."

Daryl shakes his head. "Seriously, it's okay. I'd take it, if it were bad. But it's not, promise." He gives Rick a long look. "Yer nightmare, tho. Since when's that's been going on?" His fingers tighten on Rick's, and Rick draws gentle circles on Daryl's wrist with his thumb. That always calms his hunter.

"It's okay, buddy. We'll talk about it, soon." He wishes Daryl will leave it be for now. "The doc will have some ideas, and tomorrow is our first session. It can wait a bit longer."

But Daryl shakes his head stubbornly. "Tell me, Rick."

Rick looks at Daryl, his heart full of sorrow and worry at the same time at the look of concern on Daryl's face. He's kept this to himself all this time for this reason exactly. Daryl has enough to deal with already. Maybe he can get away with just a little of the truth for now.

"It's really not so bad," he says with a little grimace. "Or it wasn't. I never woke you, did I?"

Daryl glowers. "Ya should've."

The disappointment in Daryl's voice cuts deep. Rick sighs. "That's why we're here, to deal with it all. I promise I'll tell the doc." He considers for a moment. "I guess it's getting worse cuz it's almost time, you know? To tackle it all? I…" There's a lump in Rick's throat, all of a sudden. He swallows and tries again. "I guess I'm scared."

There's a long pause. "I'm scared too, Rick," Daryl whispers eventually. A little louder he continues, "But that's okay. I know that now."

Rick waits for a few heartbeats, then reaches out and puts his hand on Daryl's neck. His heart is thumping loudly in his ears. Daryl's eyes flutter shut, and he sighs once, slumping a little. Rick caresses the nape of Daryl's neck lightly with his thumb.

"Yeah, it's okay to be scared," Rick says quietly. "But I really hope we won't be for much longer."

Daryl opens his eyes. Some tears are beading his lashes, but he tries a smile. "Me too, Rick." Then he takes the empty glass and Rick's sweaty t-shirt and gets up. "C'mon, back to sleep. Lots to do tomorrow."

Rick yawns widely. "True enough." He slides back under the covers while Daryl puts the glass and shirt on the table in the corner. Then the hunter pops another Benadryl and chases it with some water.

"Just to be safe," he says when he sees Rick looking. He steps out of his boots and lies down next to Rick. Rick turns toward his bedside table and turns the light off.

He can feel the mattress shift as Daryl makes himself comfortable. In the slim sliver of moonlight that falls through a gap in the curtains he can see that Daryl is lying on his side, facing him. They're quiet for a few minutes.

"Promise yer'll talk to me, when yer really ready." Daryl's voice sounds very small.

Rick feels for Daryl's hand under the blankets. The hunter's fingers are warmer again, and dry. "I promise, buddy."