Thanks for the sweet reviews!
Athlete Girl: I totally agree. I was trying to make it sound like she was carefully weighing her words and went a little overboard. I promise, she loosens up shortly! ;-)
"Daryl, hun, you don't have to get up," she murmured "please don't, but I have to take care of your hand..."
Hun? HUN?, Carol mentally chided herself. Where the heck had that come from? Good move, she thought, way to send him running after a breakdown!
Apparently, he either hadn't heard or didn't care. Daryl's sobs had slowed to erratic wheezes and hiccups as he slowly turned his hand over, laying it gingerly on the leg he was not already occupying without raising his head.
"need...somethin'...mah face"
Carol got the point and reached for what she thought was the corner of a red bandana peeking out of one of his vest pockets. She paused when she realized what she held in her hand was her red scarf, the one she had lost the day T-Dog had sacrificed himself for her. Why had he kept it? She shoved it in his good hand, quickly shaking those questions out of her head. This wasn't the time, with his hand still oozing blood all over her pants.
"uh uh...not gettin'...on this"
"Daryl, it can be washed, a little snot never hurt anything. Now use it so I can tend your hand...kay?"
He hurriedly mopped his face and moved off her legs to set the injured hand where his face had been. He sat shoulder to shoulder with Carol, their backs against the cool cinderblock wall. His chin pointed to the ceiling with his swollen eyes tightly shut. His breathing slowed and he only occasionally snubbed (as Carol remembered her mama calling the hiccuping breaths that often follow bouts of true tears). She took a deep breath, steeling herself for a moment before she looked down at the wound.
It extended from the outside of his palm to the base of his thumb. The edges were jagged, it was more a tear than a cut. She was pretty sure she saw an exposed tendon at one point in the base of the wound, gray-white flashing momentarily through blood. She swallowed hard, steadying her voice before she spoke.
"I...I think it's pretty deep. I'm gonna flush it with sterile water and then stitch it up. I would rather leave it open so bacteria or infection could be washed out later. But with where it is and the conditions we are living in I think that would just be inviting trouble. When I finish we need to check and make sure you can still feel and move your fingers. I don't...there isn't anything to numb it with, I'm sorry..." her voice broke on the last word.
"s'aight, go ahead," he whispered to the ceiling, eyes still closed.
She began flushing the wound, using the cosmetic spray bottle she had sterilized and filled with boiled salt water two days before. His only reaction was a hiss with the first spray. By the time she had emptied the whole bottle into the wound her lap was soaked with bloody saline and she was pretty sure he was grinding his teeth. She didn't dare look at his face, knowing she would lose her nerve if she saw the pain there.
She peeled open one of the precious suture kits they had found in the infirmary but then laid it aside on the relatively clean backpack. She had an idea. Searching one of the side pockets of the bag, she came out with a tiny packet of antibiotic ointment and opened it with her teeth. This went down the base of the wound. She worked carefully, just letting the thin line of goo fall gently, making sure not to touch it with her hands.
"I gotta start sewing now. Please be still as you can. If you need a break during let me know and I'll stop for a minute. But I'm gonna try to get it done and over with as quick as I can
"'kay, jus do it and get it done. I ain't gonna move."
Keeping her eyes trained down, she began her work. As she was tying off the second stitch, he spoke, still hoarse, but better than before.
"sorry"
"About what?" Carol tried to keep her voice light, " You didn't hurt yourself on purpose."
"About what I sa... Uh, your britches, got shit all overum," he stumbled out, ducking his head.
"My pants are fine, just a little blood, definitely not the worst stain they've had on them lately."
She tied off the last stitch, glad their exchange had distracted him as she finished. "And," she continued, turning to look at his face, "it's okay about what you said. I know you didn't mean it, you wouldn't hurt me. Plus, " she allowed herself a giggle as he glanced at her her from under his bangs "if you had tried to chuck me out that window I would hit you in the head with my chair!" They both chuckled, much like the day they had talked in his cell after he came back to the prison.
She checked her work over one last time and then bandaged it. She made sure the last layer of the bandage was flesh colored coban wrap. The last thing Daryl needed was the Governor or one of his soldiers realizing Daryl had a soft spot during a fire fight. Digging in the bottom of her bag she brought out a rather rumpled wrapped granola bar, a small orange packet, and a bottle of water. She ripped open the orange packet the same way she did the antibiotic and tipped it into the water bottle. Instantly, the water swirled neon orange.
"Whassat?" Daryl frowned, "Cain't take nothon that'll make me sleepy. I gotta..."
"No, it's not anything like that. I wish we did have some painkillers so you could rest. It's just some electrolyte packs we found in the infirmary. In case you didn't realize already, Mr. Dixon, we aren't exactly set up for transfusions here so this is the the best we can do until your body replaces what you've lost." She smiled at him, shrugged her shoulders and shook the bottle at him. "Bottoms up!"
Daryl took the bottle, intending to just gulp it down. Instead he made a face and coughed after the first swallow.
"Damn, that's sweet! Been a long time since I drunk anythin' but water. Like drinkin pure sugar!"
"Good, you need the energy! And," she said "you're gonna eat this. I know for a fact that you haven't eaten since last night. Don't need the great and powerful Daryl Dixon falling passed out on his ass now do we?" She wiggled her eyebrows, forcing an eye roll out of him before he snatched the granola bar from her hands.
He grumbled (Carol was pretty sure she made out "Bossy ass") but shoved the bar in his mouth, chasing it with the rest of the drink.
"C'mon," he growled, clumsily getting to his feet with the help of only one hand. "We better get inside before Rick and Glenn come chargin' up here guns drawn. Done think I strangled you or somethin'" He offered her his good hand, pulling her up. Whether he was woozy from blood loss or it was just a clumsy mistake, the result was the same. He pulled too hard and she crashed into his chest, his left arm around her waist to keep her from falling. They both froze, their eyes locked. After what seemed like hours, but couldn't have been more then a second or two, Carol lifted her hand to brush the too long hair out of his eyes.
"I'm really sorry about Merle," she whispered, "I...I was really hoping he could change, become the man he really was, like you have..."
Daryl sighed and Carol knew he was about to let her go, stomp away in a huff like always. Only this time, he didn't.