NINE
Daryl dropped her on his bed, covered her with a knitted blanket Michonne had put in there. The whites of her eyes peeked out through her cracked eyelids. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking at her. He didn't know what to do, didn't know if he should go grab Rosita or slap her or what. He decided to do what he'd seen Merle do to a strung out girl he'd brought home once from some skeezy bar. Daryl reached forward and tentatively put his thumb on her sternum, rubbed. Nothing happened. He rubbed harder, shook her shoulder. Her eyelids fluttered.
"Dylan." He shook her again, watched her pupils focus, contracting then widening. She sat up with a start. "Slow down. You passed out."
She covered her eyes with her hands, rubbed. "I remember the shower?" She opened her eyes, looked down at the towel and blanket, her wet hair dripping all over everything. Her face burned and she pulled the blanket closer around her shoulders.
"You had the water cranked to lava." He got up, grabbed the flannel and sweatpants he'd been planning on lending her and tossed them gently onto her blanketed knees. "When's the last time you had even a warm shower? You just ain't used to it."
He was excusing her, she realized. He wasn't going to ask her for an explanation or require an apology or mention how he'd found her passed out in a bathtub like a goddamn junkie. She touched her chest where his rough thumb had left an angry red mark. He'd woken her up like a junkie, too. She wondered vaguely where he'd learned that. She realized he was leaving her an out, leaving her dignity along with the faded flannel on her knees.
"Guess so." She pulled the blanket still tighter, knowing he'd seen the brand on her shoulder but knowing somewhere deeper that he wouldn't ask about it. Wouldn't put her on the spot like that. She didn't know what to say, how to thank him or if she even should.
"I got a shift on the wall." Daryl stood up from the bed, turned away from her. "You can stay here, I'll come back in six or so hours." He wasn't going to ask, wasn't his business. Hell, he had business he wouldn't want her in on.
Dylan nodded. She understood without it having to be said that he was letting her go, letting her keep her secrets. "I'll nap then head back to the clinic."
Daryl nodded. "See you for breakfast, then." And just like that he was gone. He picked up his crossbow from inside the doorway and left without looking back.
Dylan sighed, letting the exhaustion of the day catch up to her. She stood up and pulled on the clothes he had lent her, sweats and an old, soft flannel. She towelled off her hair and ran her fingers through it. They hadn't discussed where she'd sleep, she realized. She knew she was in his room and he wasn't going to be back for several hours but the thought of sleeping in his bed made her skin prickle. Then again, she didn't know who else lived in this house and the thought of being surprised on the couch made her anxious all over again. It'd have to be the bed, she realized.
She hesitantly turned down the blankets and climbed between the soft, worn sheets. She turned out the lamp, curled up on her side and tried to sleep. She never slept long, and she hoped she'd be up before Daryl got home to find her in his bed like some kind of Goldilocks. The mark on her sternum burned, and she fell asleep with her hand pressed to the hot imprint.
Daryl climbed up the ladder to the watchtower with his crossbow slung over his shoulder. He nodded at Lauren as he unslung it. She was newer to Alexandria, and never said much. She was a good shot and she lived with Rosita and Tara in the apartment above the clinic and that's all Daryl really knew about her.
"It's been quiet." She leaned her rifle against her own knees, stretched her arms above her head. "Two roamers, four rabbits, two skunks. I'm beat, been up here a double to cover for Michonne. You have an update on her?"
He nodded at her. "She's in the clinic. Dylan says she'll be alright."
"Who's Dylan?" Lauren picked up her rifle and water jug. "Newcomer?"
Daryl shrugged. "Not sure what she's gonna do. She makes her own plans."
"Friend of yours?" Lauren was curious. "She a doctor?"
"Nah. Known her two days. She's a nurse. Saved Michonne though. Rosita is s'posed to check on her throughout the night." Daryl sat in the chair Lauren had vacated, stretched his legs out.
"I'll wake her ass up. Night, Daryl."
"Night."
Lauren climbed down the ladder, leaving Daryl to his solitary thoughts and the empty wall. At night, they communicated every out by flashes of light around the perimeter of the wall. After receiving and sending his two flashes - all good - he settled down to watch and wait.
He liked being on watch. He wasn't relaxed, he was constantly scanning his portion of the woods and occasionally looking backwards over the town but he was zen. He had a single purpose, to watch, and dedicated himself fully to the task at hand. His mind would empty and somehow, time would slow as he slowly ran his eyes over the familiar landscape in the same pattern, over and over, looking for changes in the terrain, in the texture of the darkness.
Tonight was different. He was jumpy, antsy, couldn't settle to his chair. He paced instead, up and down the ten foot platform. He couldn't shake the picture of Dylan, passed out crying in his bathtub. He didn't ask her about it, not out of the goodness of his heart, but because he didn't know what to say. He felt protective of her, regardless of her apparent ability to kick ass and protect herself. She'd survived alone at that cabin for months without him or anyone else, but he still hadn't wanted to leave her, had to resist his every instinct as he left her dazed and still wet from the shower on his bed. He hadn't even looked back at her, but could not help looking at his own window as he walked down the street.
He remembered the heat of her skin as he'd carried her to bed, the surprising smoothness of her chest under his rough thumb. He tried to replace the image of her crying and weak with the memory of her at the clinic, making smooth and assured movements and running the scene with a calm intensity that seemed like second nature to her. He wondered what kind of nurse she'd been, where she'd been when the world ended. It sounded like she had stayed, tried to protect people. He couldn't help but admire that.
He sighed and looked out over the woods, finally deciding to stop fighting his own brain. He spent his shift wondering about Dylan, remembering every minute they'd spent together and hoping she'd decide to stay.
