Author's note: If I had a dime from every time I've had to doctor and dress a wound, I'd be filthy rich. This is something I learned both on the farm and in school. Useful but…not really a lot of fun to be honest. Hope no one is squeamish. I got a little bit graphic, but I feel like it's necessary to understand Daryl's responses and dependence. You'll understand once you read it all. PLUS! It adds layers to the Rickyl relationship that's building here. Also, there's a bit of Lori bashing in this chapter. I'm not very fond of her. In fact, you could say I darn near hate her to be honest. I know not everyone shares that opinion and I understand and respect that. Just please bear with it for the story's sake if nothing else. And I know this chapter is a little short, but my poor Daryl-chibi (it's silly but I see the characters I'm writing as little chibified – or miniaturized and cartoonish for those of you who aren't familiar with the Japanese term – people in my head) is very drained after the whole ordeal depicted below. I figure it's fair to let him rest up. lol
Chapter Ten
The next day and a half or so – Daryl really couldn't tell how long it took them to get back, he was way too out of it to really keep track – went by in a blur. Carol studiously changed his bandages at least two times that Daryl could remember to keep the smell of fresh blood down as they travelled. The arrow wounds were proving to be stubbornly against clotting, and Carol tsked over them every time she checked them and saw blood creeping through the bandages. Michonne continued to be his crutch the whole time, leaving Carl and Carol to dispatch the few Walkers they stumbled across along the way. He was a little concerned that they might be followed, but even Carl had commented on the fact that Dundee seemed hyper vigilant the closer they got to the Homestead, circling around them in greater and greater circles and pausing every now and then to listen and sniff the air. Daryl reasoned, even in his hazy mind, that dogs could be territorial and protective and that perhaps it was safe to assume that Dundee could be trusted to let them know if there were something off about their surroundings.
It was to Daryl's relief they didn't end up running into any more of the cannibals, and on that topic, he stayed quiet. He didn't want to cause any kind of panic. Despite how level-headed these three could be something as freakish as cannibalism was just…a bit much even for him. On top of that, his companions didn't seem eager to press him for information. Michonne and Carol had met his declaration of trouble on the horizon with a shared look of dread, but urged him to wait until he could tell the group in one go and not have to waste his breath telling the story twice. When they stopped to camp for the night in a little almost-cave in a hillside, Carl offered Daryl a bottle of water his lips thinning as he quietly asked, "How bad is it? The trouble, I mean."
Carol and Michonne were heating up some cans of beans at the edge of a tiny campfire they'd set alight in a little hole they'd dug in the ground, and Daryl kept his eyes trained on them. He sipped the water and after he was done tipped his head back against the dirt wall he was leaning against. "Pretty bad," he murmured. His head was pounding and just that little bit of water was making him feel a little queasy. His body was exhausted. He was out again before Carl could ask him any more questions.
It was a massive relief when they finally reached the barbed wire gate. Carl deftly pulled the tension handles free and let them all through. Daryl heard the rattle of the handles reattaching and then they shuffled on. The pike fence was trickier, Daryl having to sit to the side and lean on a tree while the others moved it, but they were through shortly with the gate replaced and approaching the door that led into the Homestead. Carl trotted ahead, Dundee already sitting patiently by the door, and set about opening up the locks.
They were met by the entire clan once they were through, everyone fussing and carrying on about how relieved they were to see him. Daryl kept his head down, uncomfortable with the mass display of affection even though they weren't even touching him. Rick swore and moved forward immediately, pushing past two of Glenn's new friends to relieve Michonne. Daryl's head lolled toward him automatically, and he had a brief flashback to that day on the Greene Farm when Andrea had made the wrong call and tried to put Daryl out of all their miseries.
"Yer ribs," he mumbled, feeling guilty for doing almost exactly what Rick had asked him not to and coming back a train wreck.
"Nevermind my damn ribs," Rick murmured to him, but Daryl was relieved and noted that Rick didn't protest when Jason came up and took up Carol's former position at Daryl's other side, a stronger hand taking up Daryl's belt while he looped his nearest arm around Daryl's waist below Rick's arm around Daryl's torso. Daryl's sore shoulder remained surprisingly unjostled to the injured hunter's relief.
"You look like you went ten rounds with an angry bull then thought it would be a good idea to make it eleven," Jason commented with a smirk tilting up the corner of his split lips. The guy was sportin' a black eye and what had to be a broken nose the skin on the right side of his face puffy and painted a mottled yellow, black and blue. Daryl knew a rifle stock strike when he saw one.
"You ain't lookin' much better, cowboy," he grumbled and felt a little better when Jason and Rick both grinned and chuckled.
Beth and Maggie rushed past them with Glenn right on their heels. The young man caught the door as the women rushed inside, holding it so that Rick and Jason could maneuver Daryl through. The redneck hissed out a string of curses that would have probably made Merle proud when his sore ankle unavoidably tapped against the stoop of the door. Rick visibly winced and murmured a hasty apology as they moved him through the doorway the rest of the way even more slowly. The rest of their family shuffled in behind them once they were clear and moving through the foyer toward the kitchen.
"Lil Asskicker?" Daryl asked softly through clenched teeth as they finally eased him into a chair in the middle of the kitchen's open space. Judith was the only member of the family Daryl hadn't seen yet.
"Don't worry 'bout her. She's down for her nap," Rick answered as he started working the gun belt free of Daryl's hips. Everyone else seemed poised and ready to swoop in on him at the first sign of a need for it, making Daryl decidedly uncomfortable and yet grateful that they seemed to be holding themselves back and not crowding him. They were probably well aware that Daryl hated the fuss and were content to let it be Rick that would have to deal with his temper. These people were getting to know him a little too well. Had he been in better shape Daryl would have pushed the man off and done it himself, but if he were honest with himself…he was glad that Rick was just taking charge.
"Scissors," Rick requested and Jason immediately put a pair in his hand. "Daryl?" Daryl hadn't even realized that he'd closed his eyes, anticipating the sudden lack of support and subsequent jolt of pain cutting the makeshift sling would entail. Merle would have already had the damn thing cut and gone. He opened his eyes again to find himself staring into Rick's worried blue gaze. "Is anything broken?"
"Naw," he answered. "Just dislocated m'shoulder. It's back in already."
"You reset your own shoulder?" The look on Carl's face was priceless. Mika was just behind Carl and she made a little noise of vicarious discomfort before turning away and burying her face in Carol's stomach. Carol patted her tiny back and gave Daryl a small, reassuring smile. Daryl chose not to respond, figuring no answer was answer enough.
Rick shifted and when Daryl looked back to him held Daryl's gaze for a moment. Daryl dipped his chin just a bit and then Rick was sliding a gentle hand into the sling, cupping his elbow and taking the weight of Daryl's arm along Rick's own forearm before he carefully cut the shirt from where Daryl had looped it under his armpit for extra stability. Jason leaned in and slowly pulled away the cloth and once his arm was free, Rick slowly lowered the limb to Daryl's lap. Glenn was just moving a chair over for Rick to sit in when there was a collective hiss from the audience as the removal of the makeshift sling revealed Daryl's whole upper arm to be one giant bruise the coloring making even the dirtied bandages for the arrow wounds look white. One of Glenn's new lady friends whirled and left, the red-headed guy and the scrappy looking brunette following after her. Daryl wished some of the others would go too, but he held his tongue, refraining from snarling and snapping at them. Merle was whispering over and over again that Daryl wasn't some freak show here for their viewing pleasure but Daryl was surprisingly able to ignore his brother's voice. Somehow he was able to assure himself that they only wanted to show him they cared and that thought eased his temper just enough to keep his mouth in check.
Through sympathetically gritted teeth, Jason muttered, "It's possible, given the amount of bruising, that you at least fractured something in there. Let's just hope it's your humorous and not anything that needs to be mobile. Can you move it?"
Daryl lifted his arm in response, the movement slow, halting and painful enough that he lowered it a split second later with a hissed, "Fuck! Yeah…a bit."
"You mean his arm might be broken?" Maggie looked appalled as she watched on from beside Glenn, like it was somehow her fault that Daryl had ended up like this.
"No," Jason corrected her immediately. "No. No. I just mean he might have gotten a hairline fracture or something similar to it. Like a crack in the bone instead of a break. It could just be a bone bruise too. A dislocated shoulder hurts, but he can't hardly move the arm even when he's trying to. The body doesn't want to do any more damage."
It occurred to Daryl that Maggie had to know exactly what Jason was talking about, but that Jason probably didn't know that. It seemed like it didn't really matter though. Maggie almost immediately covered her mouth and excused herself. Glenn fidgeted then followed her. Sasha and Bob, who had been hovering in the doorway to the living room, shifted to let the lovebirds pass and then followed them. Carol finally started to herd the children away, placing a hand on Lizzie's shoulder and guiding her out through the foyer with Carl helping by speaking soothingly to Mika about going outside to play with the goats. In the end, only Beth, Michonne, Jason and Rick remained for which Daryl was incredibly grateful.
"Vest's next," Rick warned, getting right back to business, and in response Daryl leaned himself forward. Rick was careful as he helped Daryl out of the right armhole. It took Jason and Rick both to help him out of the left. Michonne reached out and took the vest, laying it over the back of a kitchen chair and then Beth moved in with a serving tray laid out with all kinds of medical supplies. Rick met his gaze one more time, his eyes speaking volumes where the man couldn't find the words to soothe away such intense physical pain. Daryl leaned forward a little more and put his forehead to Rick's shoulder. The rest of this was going to hurt like hell and Daryl knew it. One of Rick's hands found the back of his neck while the other twined fingers with Daryl's good hand. The former sheriff's deputy moved in close and gave Daryl's hand a reassuring squeeze while his thumb rubbed circles in the back of Daryl's neck. "You go right ahead and squeeze if you have to," he murmured near Daryl's ear. Daryl gave a gentle squeeze in response and braced himself.
"Go ahead," Rick murmured to Jason and then Daryl felt hands unwinding the bandages that Carol had had to leave unchanged on what was probably the second day but could have been a third because they hadn't brought more than a basic first aid kit out with them. The gauze stuck hard to the wounds and Jason only tugged a little before deciding to ask Michonne to wet some wash cloths with warm water so they could soak the bandages from the wounds. It was a long and painful process, but eventually all of the bandages came free. It had sucked but Daryl knew the worst part was yet to come, finally clenching Rick's hand in anticipation of the rest of it.
Debriding and scrubbing were horribly painful as the damaged flesh of each of the four arrow wounds was gently scraped with antiseptic soaked gauze until it was fresh and clean. Daryl wondered briefly if he was safely able to lose any more blood, but Jason seemed unconcerned with the fresh flow of red trickling down Daryl's arm and torso. In fact, Jason was apparently not the least bit squeamish at all, sticking a gloved finger wrapped in medicated gauze right into each of the wounds as far as he could and methodically scrubbing around. Daryl ground his teeth, squeezed Rick's hand and bore it in stony silence. The only real indication of his discomfort were occasional grunts and his quick and heavy breathing. Rick remained equally silent, but continued to rub soothing circles into the back of Daryl's neck, keeping his cheek pressed to Daryl's ear. He never once complained about the death grip Daryl had on his fingers.
By far, the worst part came when Jason flushed the wounds. The sharp smell of the iodine stung Daryl's nose, but that discomfort was damn near negligible when Jason was busily squirting the thankfully colorless antiseptic over and into the wounds with a syringe over and over again. He might as well have been using fuckin' vodka. Hell, the vodka would have probably hurt less!
By the time Jason had finished bandaging the wounds again, Daryl felt wrung out. He leaned heavily into Rick's body and slowly loosened his grip on the other man's hand while trying to breathe slowly and deeply. Rick lifted his head, the sound of someone's knees popping signaling Jason standing himself upright again.
"The rest of it's just a bunch of minor scrapes and bruising." Jason's voice was low and soft. "Carol told me that he hasn't really eaten anything. Let's get him changed and settled into bed and see if he can't stomach some chicken noodle soup. I don't want to put meds in his stomach with it being empty, but he's gotta have antibiotics and something for the pain either way. We can wrap that ankle of his once he's off his feet for good. I think it's just sprained."
Rick's voice was a rumble with Daryl's forehead pressed into his shoulder like it was. "Do we need to make a run for anythin'?"
"No. We've got everything we need right here. It's just a matter of putting it t' good use."
Rick lowered his head again, his relief palpable. Chapped lips brushed Daryl's ear as he murmured, "Think y'can stand?"
Gathering himself, Daryl slowly leaned back and released Rick's hand altogether. Jason stood just over Rick's shoulder with a real medically approved sling in his hands. With a nod, Daryl let Rick grip his good elbow and hand so he could help Daryl to his feet. It was going to be a long and shitty road to recovery.
When Daryl awoke this time, he didn't hurt quite so badly, and he was surrounded by the soft quiet of home. It was nowhere near silent, but the soft shuffling noises of people in other rooms, the soft murmur of voices…all of it was something one could only call peaceful and warm. Daryl lay there, breathing even, soaking in the reassurance of safety and security. Of family. Then the mattress to his back shifted and someone let out a soft sigh. A moment later, Rick's soft, deep voice filled the quiet.
"You scared me," he murmured and it took Daryl a moment to realize that Rick thought he was talking to a sleeping man. "When the others came back without you, I thought for sure…I thought for sure…but then I remembered it was you. Probably the toughest man I know. Nothing out there was going t' take you down. Especially since you'd promised to come back."
Daryl stayed perfectly still and kept his eyes closed. A part of him felt a little bad acting like he wasn't conscious. Another part, the bigger one, was curious to hear whatever it was Rick was getting off his chest.
"Even when Lori was alive…" Rick had a thing for pausing when he was deeply moved by emotion, or carefully picking out his words. Almost like he wasn't sure if he was saying what he wanted to say or at least that he wasn't sure he was saying it right. Daryl had a feeling that Lori was mostly to blame for that behavior with her constant nagging about what Rick would and wouldn't say to her. Rick continued after a few heartbeats of quiet thought. "Y'know, Lori wasn't even my wife at the end. At least, I didn't see her that way anymore. She was just the woman who'd given me an amazing son. The woman who I'd married too young. The woman who condemned me for protecting myself so that I could protect her and the rest of our new family by killing the man who used to be my best friend. A man she'd all but asked me to put down. Really, if we're being honest here, she hadn't been my wife since before I killed Shane. It just took Shane's death for me to see my life a little more clearly. I still felt responsible for her and the baby. Relief and familiarity breed their own kind of love, so I suppose it is possible Judith really is mine…"
And there Rick paused again as if he were gathering his thoughts or settling his emotions. Daryl stayed as he was, hoping that Rick wouldn't stop. Lori was like a ghost looming over all of them. Maybe Rick was finally ready to exercise that ghost and free all of them of that concern. "What I'm trying to say is, I loved her for who she'd been for me, but we were a broken marriage even before everything went to hell. I spent a lot of time learning to accept that. You actually made that a little easier. You were there for me at every turn, there to call on when the tough work needed doin', there to watch my back, there supporting my every decision, backing my every move, counseling my every uncertainty. The things the woman calling herself my wife should have been doing. Without you, Daryl, I'd've gotten us killed a dozen times over before the prison. I'd've lost Judith. I'd've lost my mind completely.
"After the prison fell? I was completely lost without you. It was Carl who finally convinced me that what you and I shared was something more valuable than what I'd had with Lori. Carl said that he'd loved his mom, but he could see, even back then, what she was doing to me. He said it wasn't fair the way she'd given up on me. The way she was never satisfied or truly grateful. He said even he could tell that she was only tolerating me because she really had no other options given her predicament. I couldn't believe it when my own son told me it was 'cool' with him if I was in love you. Said there were worse people in the world I could have set my sights on. He even mentioned Andrea and told me he was glad I wasn't all about the pretty faces. Carl's not even fifteen. It was damn near unbelievable to hear those grown up things coming out of my little boy's mouth."
Daryl could just see Rick shaking his head in disbelief. He didn't even have to look.
"My own son made me promise to try to make whatever bond we had between us stronger. Made some comic book joke about powerful people making alliances. I don't know. I never could get into all that superhero stuff. Too many far-fetched things in 'em. Doesn't matter anyway because I still promised him. I told him I'd talk to you once we'd found you. That I'd at least try harder to cultivate our brotherhood if nothing else. And then you rode up on that horse like some kind of old west hero…Relief is one thing. Absolute solace…now that's one for the romantic at heart."
Rick fell silent again. Minutes ticked by while Daryl thoughtfully chewed Rick's words over in his mind. The light thump of socked feet broke the silence some time later.
"He still asleep?" Carl's voice was barely above a whisper.
Rick's, when he responded, was the same low murmur he'd been speaking in before. "Yeah."
"I just wanted to ask if you wanted me t' bring you your dinner and maybe something for him for when he wakes up."
"Thank you, Carl. I'd appreciate it."
"It's not a problem, Dad." There was a long moment of silence in which Daryl felt two pairs of eyes watching him. It was uncomfortable, but he forced himself to stay still. After a long moment, Carl asked, "Did he tell you what he thought the threat was?"
"No," Rick answered voice still low. "Michonne told me Daryl said something about there being trouble, but that they'd wanted to get him back as quickly as possible and told him to save his breath until everyone was safe at home."
"You think it's something that's going to happen soon?"
"I don't know, Carl." Rick sighed again. "Right now, let's just focus on helping Daryl get back on his feet."
Carl must have nodded because his feet slid on the hardwood floor and then thudded quietly away. Rick scooted further down the mattress and it sounded like he opened up a book. Daryl shifted a little just to get a bit more comfortable and let out a soft breathy sigh. He'd tell them about the cannibals, but only after they'd had dinner. No sense throwing anyone off their appetite. It wasn't like those assholes were likely to find them first thing tomorrow.
TBC…