These days Daryl doesn't find Rick very heavy. He thinks it's both because he, Daryl, has grown stronger over the last few months, carrying and lifting his lover many times a day, and because Rick has lost weight. Muscle wastage, mostly, but sitting around all day hasn't done his naturally indifferent appetite any favors, either.
Daryl knows he doesn't have to look after Rick all on his own, of course. He's not an idiot, and even if he were slow on the uptake people have told him enough times over the last few months. But he feels it's his duty, so for now, looking after Rick is his job alone, as much as it can be. He can't help it any more than he could help going out looking for Sophia day after day, all that time ago, on the farm. He never uses the word punishment, but sometimes Daryl thinks that it's a bit of that, too. What he's being punished for, or rather, punishing himself for, he isn't entirely sure he can put into words.
When they come down the stairs – Daryl is careful on every step; they've almost fallen a few times in the past, and that's the last thing Daryl wants to do to his man, hurt him more – the wheelchair is where they left it the night before. Daryl lowers Rick into it carefully. Rick can help more now than he could in the beginning, his arms are much stronger. He adjusts his legs himself, then loosens the brake and Daryl steps back. His heavy lifting is done for the moment.
Sometimes he still lifts Rick in and out of the chair during the day, but recently Rick's managed more and more of that himself, at least round the house. He can use his arms to maneuver himself onto the sofa, for example. They've also discovered many useful things in the last couple of months. One of these is a bottle to pee in which allows Rick to go to the bathroom by himself during the day. They keep one downstairs in the guest bathroom, and recently a scavenging crew found another one at a nearby hospital, which now resides by their bed.
Daryl makes a mental note to remind Rick to get out of the chair and onto the sofa for a bit before lunchtime. They sometimes don't remember to adjust Rick's position regularly, and Daryl shudders when he thinks of the sores too much sitting in one place can cause on his lover's bottom and thighs. He knows they need to be more careful; if one of those sores gets infected they might not have access to the right medication.
Rick moves towards the kitchen and Daryl follows. Carol is busy in there, and it's a nice surprise to see her. Usually Daryl and Rick are the only ones left in the house by the time they come down. Rick seems to prefer it that way, but Daryl knows that if he can tolerate anyone then it's Carol. She is to thank for many of the bright ideas that have made their life increasingly more bearable recently. She smiles at Rick now.
"Morning. Coffee?"
"Thanks."
Rick wheels himself to the table and Daryl steps up to the counter to get the plates of toast Carol has prepared for them. When she's around in the morning she always makes them breakfast. As she pours three cups of coffee Daryl can feel her eyes on himself.
"Sleep alright?"
Her voice is low, and he knows he'll have to elaborate a bit more for her than he does for Rick when he asks that question. Carol worries more about him than Rick, Daryl sometimes thinks. Why, he can't fathom. She keeps her eyes on him, so he guesses he must be looking particularly tired or something. He didn't check his appearance in the mirror that morning, he never seems to remember.
He also can't really remember if he slept ok or not. He can barely recall the night now, and has to really think about it before some memory comes back to him. His mind is so busy with their daily routine, and with all things Rick that as long as he himself feels fine he doesn't pay any special attention. He doesn't think there's anything wrong with that, either. Nothing hurts much, all his limbs work, so why waste time worrying?
"Think so, yeah."
And presumably it's true enough. Other than the usual low level tiredness he never seems to really shake these days he feels ok. Not unusually good or bad, which is good enough for him. Even his head doesn't hurt much today. Ever since the accident he's suffered from chronic headaches, but they're manageable so he hardly ever mentions them to anyone.
He now opens the cupboard and takes out Rick's morning medicines. There's a plethora of pills, including painkillers to help with the neuropathic pain from the damaged nerves in the legs, a muscle relaxant to prevent muscle spams which, when given time to develop, can travel up from the paralyzed muscles into his chest, causing severe pain. Other pills are meant to help regulate his bowels, which are a whole story in themselves. Daryl shakes the right pills onto the plate with the toast and, after counting them and finding one missing, rummages in the cupboard for one more bottle.
This last pill is a recent addition. While Rick is now usually able to tell when he needs to empty his bladder the doc thinks it's not quite functioning as it should. It doesn't always seem to empty completely, which has given him a bladder infection. Daryl now knows more about the things that can go wrong with the human body, and how easily, than he ever wanted to.
He carries their two plates over to the table and sits down next to Rick. One thing this whole situation has done for him is that he usually feels properly hungry now. He's often not even aware of it until he sits down for a meal and his stomach starts to grumble like he hasn't eaten in days. Not even out on the road while they traveled towards Washington does he remember having been this ravenous. He guesses it's the regular physical exertion that's helping his appetite. Luckily at the moment there is no danger of a food shortage.
Carol sits down opposite after placing a mug of coffee in front of each of them. For a few moments they are silent while Carol sips her coffee and Rick swallows his pills, grimacing. Then she looks up.
"The council has asked me to extend a formal invitation to you for the meeting today, Rick."
"Carol…"
"They feel it's only courteous, considering what you have done for the community. You have a right to…"
Rick looks as Daryl and scowls.
"I thought you talked to them."
"Rick, I…" Daryl begins, but Rick turns back to Carol and ignores him.
"Tell them thanks, but no thanks."
"Rick…"
"What? Haven't I told them, and you, enough times?!"
"You can't expect…"
"Well, I do expect to be left alone and not be pestered about this again, all right?"
Rick drops his toast and gives Daryl another sideways look, full of disgust this time. Daryl's insides feel heavy with dread. What's Rick going to do now?
"I told you to tell them not to do this anymore. I am not going to sit on the council!"
"They don't listen to me, Rick. And I don't want…"
Daryl quails under Rick's furious stare.
"Oh you don't want? What about me, and what I want, huh?"
Rick glares at him, then maneuvers the wheelchair away from the table. He turns and wheels himself away as fast as he can.
"Just leave me alone…"
His voice sounds tired now and fades as he disappears into the back room, which as communal space doubles as office, library and Judith's play room.
Daryl stares down at his own toast. His stomach has tied itself into a knot and he no longer feels any desire for his breakfast. A well-known, miserable feeling is filling him. He pushes the plate away. Carol looks at him, he can feel her eyes, but he doesn't look back at her. He knows what she wants to say but wishes he knew how to stop her saying it. He just sits, feeling miserable.
"We get it, you know. He's upset, and he's got every reason to be. But we want him to get better, and he won't, if he just stays in here all the time."
Daryl says nothing. They've been over this many times.
"And he shouldn't take his bad mood out on you, he really shouldn't…"
Daryl can't stand to hear any more. He doesn't want to discuss this with Carol. She won't understand. He pushes his chair back.
"You got somewhere to be?" He glances at her.
"No." Carol looks puzzled. "Why?"
"Mind if I go out for a bit? Gotta check something with Aaron…"
He knows she knows it's a lie. He's not been a recruiter since the accident, and he has no reason at all to go and see Aaron. But she nods, looking at him reassuringly.
"I'll stay here. Take as long as you need."
Daryl nods his thanks, then gets up quickly and walks to the front door, trying not to run. He can feel the tears prickling behind his eyelids and wants to be out of the house before he embarrasses himself.