"Daryl, breathe, it's ok. Aaron's coming, shhh… just a couple minutes more… I got ya, hang in there…"
"What happened? I thought he was better…"
"He was. He fell asleep in my arms a couple hours ago, and he was totally fine. When I came back to check on him just now he was like this again. Writhing and moaning, as bad as ever…"
"Rick, I think…"
"Yeah, I know… Daryl, it's ok, I got ya. Lean over this way, it's gonna be ok. Keep breathing, it's ok…"
"Here, careful… a bit more… Hold him, Rick, he's really scared now, I don't think he knows what's happening. Take care you don't both fall off the bed…"
"Ok… ok, got it. Shhh, man, it's ok, it's almost over, you're ok, shhh… Oh god, will this never end?!"
-.-
The nausea came in waves, up and down like a ship, moving, swaying, making him feel worse with every minute. His head was pounding, agony, knives slicing. He was sure it'd explode.
He could hear them talking. No, screaming. So loud, always, all of them, so, so loud. It hurt so much, he couldn't speak, couldn't tell them to shut up, be quiet. It made no sense, what they were saying. He didn't know that language. Where was he, anyway?
The taste of copper at the back of his throat, like blood, and he was throwing up, again. It hurt so bad, oh god, make it stop… He retched again, stomach acid burning. How could there be anything still inside? He'd expelled it all, three times over, and yet, here he was, bringing up more.
Hands on him, soothing, he knew they were. They were Rick's, of course, yet right now they burnt like fire, hurt more than they helped. It always was like this, but he never said anything after. Cos the truth was, even though it hurt like hell he needed Rick to hold him, keep him from floating away on this sea of pain.
He gagged again as his head roiled and shook, no sense of up or down, blind with the throbbing, making the sickness worse. He felt his head slump against Rick, felt his bones rattle. But Rick held him, never let go, and it hurt, oh gods. But he was safe.
Then more hands, different ones. Daryl felt fear rise up with the bile now, tried to get away, retched again, felt the sick trickle down his chin this time, soaking into his shirt. The alien fingers were still on him, pressing, probing.
"No…"
Gods, he felt so sick. All he could do was whisper, hoarse from the acid coming up again and again. More gagging from the fear, the effort to get away, burning in his throat.
"Shh, Daryl…"
His name. The only thing he recognized. Rick's voice, Rick's hands holding his own, then one warm and reassuring against his stomach.
Pressure on his temples again, terrifying, painful, but only for a moment. Then it was… something else. The pain receding, the nausea, finally, at bay. Fingers on his forehead, massaging tiny circles. On his neck, briefly frightening again, but then the tension eased, and he leaned into the touch. Better now, definitely better…
He felt sleepy, he was nodding off. Rick's hand still pressing gently on his burning stomach, soothing and warm. And the other hands, holding his right one, pushing hard into the soft flesh of the palm. He gave a little yelp, but then the sensation changed, actually made him feel calm. It was helping, definitely helping.
Close to drifting off again. Rick's hand, gentle on his face, a small kiss to the forehead.
"Sleep, Daryl. It's ok, it's over for now… I'm right here, I got ya… I love you."