Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: This story is meant to fit into the canon events of 5x11, and to explore what might have happened during the night after the Aaron reunites with Eric, before they set out with Team Prison in the morning. This is an Aaric (Aaron/Eric) one-shot.
Warnings: Spoilers for 5x11 "The Distance." *Contains: adult language, adult content, discussion of broken bones and minor injury, prescription drug use for injuries, light slash, hurt and comfort, the usual emotional baggage.
You are responsible (for what you have tamed)
"We have a pretty gifted surgeon in Alexandria. His name's Pete. I've seen him do some amazing things. He might be able to help."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He waited until Noah had moved back into the main area of the RV before he turned his attention back to the sleeping lump sprawled out on the bed beside him.
"Light weight," he murmured affectionately, letting his thumb brush against the knob of his lover's wrist as Eric's chest rose and fell. Soothing and rhythmic in a way that made him realize just how tired he was as he ran his hands through his hair. Tugging at the strands just a bit too hard, as if hoping the sudden flare of discomfort would help him focus.
It didn't. But then again, he hadn't slept much for the past three weeks, so he figured that was what he got for pushing himself. God, was he ready to go home. Getting Rick's group this far had been a marathon in itself. And despite the fact that they were nearly there – nearly safe – he knew it was far from over. He still had to get them through the introductions and help ease the way through the transition period.
It wasn't that he was worried the others would reject them, it was more a matter of getting them out of the habit of acting like a pack of feral dogs. They'd been out on their own for too long – barely getting by, barely surviving - and it showed. They were going to have to learn how to live again.
It was going to take time.
Maybe even a whole lot of time.
He winced, thinking of the long days ahead. Probably more time than everyone's patience was up for, if he was being honest. He hadn't seen a group so badly off in a long time. Constantly on the verge of falling apart, despite their blinding loyalty to one another. They were tight knit, of course. Some of them more than others. But each and every one was valued in some way, cared for. Even those he hadn't seen wield a weapon once in the entire three weeks they'd had them under surveillance.
They hadn't turned on each other.
Not once.
That was what made them special.
That was why they needed them.
Why he and Eric were out here in the first place.
He pressed the heels of his palms against twitching lids, half wondering if there was a smell to exhaustion as he forced himself to sit up straight. Blinking away the star-spattered fog of over-exposure as a ray of pure Arizona sunlight escaped the blinds and illuminated the curve of his partner's face.
The small smile that spread in response was unavoidable. Having to resist the urge to smooth ruffled red hair as the man shifted in his sleep. Lips parting fractionally as a soft snuffling – too delicate to be called a snore – swirled with the dust motes in the air above their heads.
Christ, what a sight for sore eyes.
They'd given Eric a dose of painkillers with breakfast, going with the idea that he should probably have something already in his system before they got him up and into the RV. Eric had fussed a bit about it. But he'd insisted. Having no desire to repeat the events of the night before when he'd helped him up to take a piss and nearly ended up picking them both off the floor.
It had been so bad Eric hadn't even been able to speak. Deaf to his worried questions as he'd paled, grimacing in agony. Face ashen and dripping with sweat as bony fingers sunk deep into the curve of his forearm, biting down on the inside of his cheek to keep the howl unvoiced. Well aware that at least a handful of eyes were watching their every move as they waited for the pain to subside.
The round trip from the nearest clump of bushes to the bed had been an exercise in learning how to scream without sound. Even when Tara had appeared – sleepy, silent and rumpled - in the stoop to support his other side as they half carried Eric back to the musty nest of cushions and blankets, it'd still taken more out of him than he was comfortable with.
He'd only given him the minimum dose, but they still ended up hitting him through a loop. To the point where by the time they got him settled on the little bed in the rear he was dopy and content. Blinking sleepily and leaning back against him shamelessly as he made faces at the baby. Earning himself a grudgingly thoughtful look from both Carol and Daryl as Judith squealed happily in her brother's arms.
And while he knew Eric hadn't exactly been at his most coherent, he couldn't stop himself from thinking about their conversation as the others packed up the rest of their gear. Taking a moment to huddle close and talk quietly outside before jamming into the vehicles and angling their tiny little convoy towards home.
"They told me terrible things, you know," Eric imparted when they were finally left alone, voice gently slurring. Blue eyes glassy and flagging down towards half-mast as the RV jolted over a pot-hole. "Before you got back. About the people they met. They didn't say much, but it was bad. I could tell. They haven't just lost people, Aaron."
"It makes sense, you know. Why they're different from the others," Eric continued, after a pause. Expression scrunching – like he was a few inches away from a smile – before he tangled their fingers together, the picture of graceful patience.
"I know," he said quietly. Tone edging towards grudging as his eyes caught on the splint-wrapped bandages that were keeping the man's ankle more or less straight.
"The world got ugly," Eric remarked, thoughtful and apparently completely oblivious to the bottle of water he'd been holding in front of his boyfriend's face for the last half a minute. "I thought there would be more people like us out there."
He snorted out a laugh, setting the water aside as Eric gave him the fish-eye. Lower lip threatening a pout before he leaned in and kissed him gently. "That's because you are you," he replied, smiling hugely as Eric let go of an honest, jaw cracking yawn.
"The eternal optimist to your pessimist," Eric chirped softly, eyes fond as he looked up at him in that way he always did – half alluring, half ridiculous – that never failed to send a curl of warmth pooling in his gut. "I will always be here to give you a kick in the ass when you need it."
"I'll hold you to that," he whispered, seizing onto the unspoken promise like if he believed it enough - held onto it enough - it would stay true. Grazing his lips over the man's knuckles as Eric shifted sleepily, fisting at the blankets lazily as he brought them up to his chin.
Honestly, he wouldn't have had it any other way.
He didn't know if he could handle this world without him.
Didn't know if he even wanted to.
"They were worth it, you know," Eric hummed, holding onto consciousness by a thread's length, eyes feathering closed. Long fingers kneading at the blankets as he squeezed his hand pointedly. "Worth the risk."
A sting of unfamiliar selfishness rose thick in the back of his throat, violent enough to steal the words he wanted to say before Eric answered for him. As perceptive as ever, despite being mostly asleep and very much stoned off his gourd.
"…Greedy." Eric admonished, as if reading his thoughts. Tone playful and unconsciously loose with his vowels as his breathing slowed. Tapering off to sleep before he could bring himself to respond.
He shook his head, fingers flexing. Waiting until the man's grip grew lax before he gently untangled their hands and took a sip of water. Listening idly to the muted sounds of conversation floating in from the front compartment as he tried to pin-point what he was feeling. Part of him agreed, of course. He was being selfish. Hell, he'd been ready to call off the entire thing when he'd seen that flare. And yet-
The sound of muted laughter, hesitant but genuine, made him quirk his lip. Rubbing his hand over a couple days worth of golden-brown stubble as someone – Eugene, maybe – suggested a game of cards.
Eric was usually right, anyway.
All he knew was that he owed them more than he could ever repay.
And for right now, that was all that mattered.
A/N #1: Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! – This story is now complete.
Reference: Big thank you again to gunslingerdixon for collecting the dialogue between Noah and Aaron for me, from this episode.