"So…" Daryl said, unsure how to approach what he wanted to ask her. It had been a while since he had the conversation with Rick, since it was now mid-January…but he'd never found a good time to broach the subject.
"What is it?" Songbird put her brush down and looked at Daryl, wondering why he looked nervous.
"I was thinkin'," he said. "Actually, I was talkin'…I was talkin' to Rick and well…you know those condoms aren't gonna last forever, even if you did loot the entire gas station."
"And you looted the entire Walgreens…but yeah," she sighed and said, "You're not going to suggest doing without are you? Because that is a sacrifice I am not prepared to make."
"No," he agreed, deciding to just get it the fuck over with. "I was…Rick said…Lucky…shit."
He ran his hand through his hair, making it stand up in unruly spikes all over his head. Songbird tilted her head, looking at him with concern.
"How you feel about takin' it in the ass?" he blurted out, wincing when he saw her eyes widen. Maybe there was a better way to put that.
She stared at him with her mouth hanging open for a minute, and realized with a sinking heart that he was totally serious. She couldn't tell him no; she could never tell Daryl no.
He watched her face carefully as the silence stretched, "Darlin' you don't have to…" he said hurriedly, desperate to fill the void of conversation.
"No," Songbird forced a smile and said. "Sure Daryl! It makes sense…"
"Really?"
And damn it, that sealed the deal for her. He looked so relieved and pretty eager.
"Sure!" she said again, forcing enthusiasm into her voice and wondering if there was any of Rooster's Scotch left.
Daryl crossed the room and pulled her into his arms, kissing her until she moaned into his mouth and then laying her down on one of the lower bunks. They undressed each other and Songbird's nerves disappeared as Daryl took control of her body the way he always did when they had sex. She didn't know how he managed it, but she was helpless to deny him the things he wanted; when he wanted to turn her on, a kiss or the smallest brush of his fingers accompanied by one of those intense, consuming looks did the job, making her instantly wet. When he wanted her to cum all he had to do was say it in his rough way and her body would clench around his. So surely…she could do this too.
Once she was naked and returning his kisses desperately, he pulled her up, putting her on her knees and getting behind her so that they were both kneeling on the bed, her back against his chest. He moved one hand up, wrapping it around her slender throat and pulling her head back to rest on his shoulder, as he moved the other hand down, over her flat stomach and down to her already wet pussy. She felt him push his fingers into her, pulsing them in a quick rhythm and increasing the pressure on her neck until she gasped and came. Then, even though she felt shaky, he pushed her to another orgasm before letting her go, repositioning her so that she was on her hands and knees, remaining behind her. She moaned again, this time in disappointment, when he removed his fingers; glancing back over her shoulder, she saw him using the moisture to lubricate his cock. She bit her lip, wanting him.
"Will you put it in me?" she asked. "Just for minute?"
Damn, he didn't want to say no. "Darlin'…" he began. "If I was gonna do that, I'd have to put a condom on, and then we might as well not do this at all."
"Okay," she said, disappointed.
Daryl bit his lower lip as he gripped her hip with one hand and moved forward.
"Don't get tense," he said, taking a deep breath. He'd never done this either and he had no idea how it was going to feel.
Songbird faced forward again and breathed out slowly, letting her hair fall in a curtain around her face, making a conscious effort to relax. He pushed forward, grunting slightly in surprise at the unbelievable tightness.
"God damn," he breathed out, pulling back and thrusting a bit deeper each time.
It was NOTHING like regular sex; which was damn awesome with her, it was…he groaned again as he finally worked his way in to the hilt. It felt really different but he was no mood to analyze why. He moved a bit faster, looking down, watching his cock push into her ass.
"You okay?" he asked after a few minutes.
He saw her nod and continued what he was doing; it was sort of fascinating to watch himself like that. And it was undeniably sexy to know that he was fucking her ass. It was generally forbidden fruit, something most girls wouldn't do for their men. He ran his hand down her back, noticing the white knuckle grip she had on the blankets.
"Songbird?" he questioned.
She nodded again and gasped, "I'm good."
"Not gonna last much longer," he admitted, already feeling his stomach muscles jerk.
"That's okay."
It didn't take long and even the orgasm felt different. It must have had something to do with how different it had felt the whole time. And the awesomeness of no condom certainly played a large part as well. He pulled out when he finished and gave her a playful smack on the ass. He didn't worry until a second later when she still hadn't moved. He'd expected her to turn around, to cuddle up against him the way she always did when they fucked. Weirdly enough that had become one of his favorite parts of doing her.
"Songbird?" he asked.
"What?"
He leaned around; her hair was still curtaining her face but to his shock there were huge tear stains on the blanket and even the ends of her hair were wet.
"Fuckin' hell!" Daryl exclaimed. "Were you crying the whole time?"
"No," she lied, biting her lip so hard she tasted blood. "Shouldn't you go take a shower or something?"
"Darlin' I ain't goin' nowhere till you look at me," he said firmly.
"Jesus Daryl!" Songbird exploded. "You just shoved your cock up my ass; I'd think that would be enough for one goddamn day. Just leave me the fuck alone!"
She then ruined any attempt at bad-assery by bursting into sobs the minute she finished the sentence. Daryl sat there with his mouth hanging open. That was more profanity than he'd ever heard her use. He didn't like it.
"Don't talk like that," he said inanely.
"What? You don't like it when your sweet little girl uses profanity?" she questioned, still crying and still refusing to look at him.
"No, I don't," Daryl answered seriously. "I…damn it, darlin' why didn't you tell me it hurt?"
He reached out and brushed her hair back over her shoulder so he could see her face. Tears were streaming freely down her cheeks, dripping off her pointed chin and making bigger and bigger wet places on the dark gray blanket.
"I wanted to…I wanted to…" she was sobbing too hard to finish the sentence now; crying in that way that little kids cry, tears, snot and all.
Daryl pulled her into his arms. Now he could feel her tears tracking down his neck. Damn it; how much damage had he done to her? He was gonna kick Rick's ass the next time he saw that bastard.
"You wanted to what?" he asked. "Did you want to stop? Baby, if you wanted to stop you should have said somethin'!"
He didn't call her "baby" very much. She took a deep breath, determined to get the sentence out.
"I wanted to make you happy!" she wailed.
"This don't make me happy," he said seriously. "Hurtin' you ain't at the top of my list. Tell me how bad it hurts."
Though what the fuck he was gonna do about it was beyond him.
She shrugged, trying to stop crying, "It just hurts."
"Scale of 1 to 10," Daryl demanded, falling back on what he remembered of Deena's C.N.A training.
"I don't know," she said. "Don't worry about it."
"Don't worry about it?" he repeated incredulously. "Don't fuckin' worry about it? I made you cry!"
He said it as though he was admitting to a capital offense.
"Look, Daryl," Songbird said. "I just want some time by myself okay? Go take a shower, and maybe bring me back something to drink. I just…I just want to be alone."
His heart dropped. She wouldn't even look at him. He showered quickly and went into the kitchen to find her something to drink. Because when a man hurts the woman he loves a Pepsi obviously fixes everything. Daryl snorted, looking through the pantry. He found a 2 liter and commandeered it, then grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels before leaving with two glasses in his hands.
"Where you headed?" Rick asked, passing him in the hallway.
"Got a bone to pick with you later," Daryl snarled pointing at him before continuing on to the fourth room, leaving Rick looking after him in confusion.
Songbird had pulled her pajamas on and climbed up to the bunk they shared. She had her arms around a pillow and her eyes were closed, but he knew that she wasn't asleep.
"Brought you somethin'," he said, surprised at the tone in his own voice.
Songbird opened her eyes; she'd never, ever heard him sound like that. He sounded hesitant and worried. It made his voice softer and lower; she had to struggle to catch the words. She propped onto her elbow and reached out, taking the 2 liter and the glasses.
Daryl climbed up and sat down gently next to her, resting his shoulders against the wall as he pulled a glass bottle from his hip pocket.
"Whiskey," he said, giving her a tentative grin, taking her glass and pouring some into the bottom before filling it the rest of the way with Pepsi. "Bo Dixon's cure for what ails you."
"Bo?" she questioned, taking a drink as he filled his own glass, more generous on the whiskey than he had been with her drink.
"My grandpa," he confirmed, sipping and glancing at her.
"I thought your grandpa's name was Robert. I thought that was who you were named after," she took another, longer drink.
"Yeah," Daryl said, pleased that she'd remembered. "But everybody called him Bo."
"Did you get along with him?" Songbird asked.
Daryl had just taken a swig of his drink so all he could do was nod.
"But, wasn't he your dad's father?"
"Yeah," he wondered why she looked so confused by that.
"You said your dad beat you…I guess I just didn't picture him with a good family life," she explained, glad to have something to think about besides how much of a failure she was in bed.
"It wasn't Bo's fault my dad was an asshole," Daryl said. "Look at how different me and Merle turned out. Runs in our family I guess…you're either a total jackass or you're not. Bo wasn't."
"Then tell about him," she said. "If you don't mind."
He would have walked across hot coals if it kept her from crying again.
"Well," he began. "Bo and his brother Jake started Dixon Brothers Roofing way back in 1936. He got married and…"
"Who did he marry?" Songbird asked, wondering why men always skipped over the romantic aspect of a story.
"My grandma," Daryl said as if it should have been obvious. "Her name was Florence," he continued when Songbird reached out and smacked his arm. "They were high school sweethearts, I guess you'd say. He was 19 when he got married."
"Really? That's so sweet!" Songbird gave Daryl a smile.
"Yeah, well…" Daryl trailed off and then went on. "They did love each other a lot. She died when I was 9, so I didn't know her as well. Anyway, Bo had two sons…Jake, who was named after my great-uncle obviously, in 1940 and a long time later in 1951, Merle Sr. My dad."
"Why'd they wait so long between kids?" she asked.
"Jake died in 1949," Daryl answered, taking another drink. "Ridin' his bike…got hit by a car. Wasn't nothin' anybody could do. Then, at the end of 1950 Bo signed up and he and Uncle Jake went to fight in the Korean War. Bo came back alone."
Songbird looked down at her glass and said, "How awful. His son and his brother…just like that."
"Yeah. The world's always been shitty," Daryl said. "Way before this. Anyway, they had my dad, raised him…"
She could tell he didn't really want to talk about his father so she said, "You can tell me all the family history when I have my computer. Tell me more about Bo."
"Hell, darlin' I don't know what to tell you," Daryl protested.
"Do you think he would have liked me?" Songbird asked shyly.
"He woulda give me hell about you," Daryl replied, giving her his first real smile since she'd stopped crying. "About how young you are…but…yeah. I really think he would have. He could always tell what a person really meant, no matter what they were sayin'. And he hated Deena."
"The woman who cheated on you?" she asked, finishing her drink.
He nodded and said, "I met her in 2004; I was 29. Started gettin' serious, took her to meet Bo; he was in his 80's by then, but he took a look at her and he listened to her talk and when she went outside to talk on the phone to one of her friends he looked at me and he said, "She ain't right for ya." I asked him why, he just kind of shook his head and said, "There's a look a woman gets in her eyes when she loves you. That look ain't there. She likes what you can do for her, but it ain't never gonna be about you, boy. It's always gonna be about her. That ain't love." He was right," Daryl said with a half smile. "But he didn't stick around long enough for me to tell him I was sorry for not believin' him. He died at the end of that year."
"What did he mean about a look in a woman's eyes?" Songbird asked, surprised at the philosophical way Daryl had quoted the man.
"I never knew," Daryl said, clearing his throat and mumbling sort of awkwardly. "Till I met you."
"Really?" she asked, this was the most serious that Daryl had ever been with her. Usually when they had sex it was fun, and playful, or so intense that all she could do afterward was collapse bonelessly and fall asleep when it was over. They didn't really do pillow talk, as a rule. "How do I look at you?"
"Like…ah shit," Daryl exhaled. "You really gonna make me say it?"
"Yes," she nodded solemnly. "I want to hear it!"
"You look at me like…okay, I'm not sayin' this is how you feel or anything, but you look at me like I'm the most important thing in your life. Like I'm the one thing you couldn't do without. Like you'd do anything for me."
"Well, all that's true," Songbird sat up and looked at him. "In other words, I look at you like I love you."
"Yeah," he said. "And I know you do. But darlin' you gotta promise me somethin' right now."
"Sure," she wondered why he looked so serious.
"Don't ever let me hurt you like that again," Daryl said. "Do I hurt you a lot? You need me to change anything?"
"No!" Songbird stared at him in surprise. "You've never hurt me before! And I don't want you to do anything differently. I love the way you do…um…me. Are you going to be all gentle from now on?"
"Would you like that?" he asked, looking down into his drink.
"If you started that, I'd have to get a new boyfriend," she said, making his head snap up. "If I wanted to make love all gentle, I'd date a girl."
He wanted to laugh, but instead he forced his features into a frown, swigged down the last of his drink and said, "You just try leavin' me darlin'. First man to touch you gets an arrow in the ass."
Songbird giggled and said, "Well…I'm sure that's better than some things you could put there!"
He lost the battle and laughed, pushing her down on the bed and then pulling her against him, her head on his shoulder, so that he could play with her hair with his free hand.
"Why didn't you tell me how much it hurt?" he asked after a moment.
He felt her sigh and he was kind of shocked by her answer.
"I wanted to be good for you; telling you how much it hurt would have ruined it."
"Baby," Daryl sighed too and tilted her chin up. "You're fine…I mean you're perfect. I've never complained about you."
"Well…but you wanted to do this, and I couldn't and I'm really, really sorry…"
"The only reason I wanted to do it was because of the condom thing and Rick said…"
"Wait," Songbird just realized what he'd said. "Rick and Lucky are really doing…that?"
"Yep," Daryl confirmed.
"How did you find out?" she asked.
"Girls aren't the only ones who talk about sex," he replied. "We had watch…got to talkin'."
"Do you talk about me?" she blushed.
"You talk about me," he said, wondering if she was going to get mad.
"Yeah, but I just give general compliments, no details!"
"Well, that's all I did," Daryl reassured her, replaying the conversation quickly. "I may have mentioned something about you being the best I ever had…"
"Really?" Songbird smiled. "I'd return the compliment if I thought it would mean anything to you."
"It's nice to hear," he said. "Even if you've got nothing to compare me to."
"Okay then," she brushed a kiss over his chest and said, "Daryl Dixon, you're the best I've ever had."
"Thanks." Daryl contemplated the ceiling, wondering why he felt so damn tired; it wasn't late. Maybe he was just getting old. That was a shitty thought.
"Daryl?" Songbird asked after a moment. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure," he answered, closing his eyes.
"And you won't yell at me?"
"No darlin', I won't yell at you," Daryl wondered how often he did yell; he'd have to work on that.
"Are you really okay with losing Merle?"
Now, that wasn't a question he'd expected. He gave it some thought; which was something he hadn't done since it happened.
"I don't know," was all he managed to come up with.
"What did you do that night you threw me out of the truck?"
"Drank till I barfed," Daryl admitted. "Thought about how bad I fucked shit up…missed you…prayed…passed out."
"In that order?" Songbird gave him a slight smile.
"Yeah," he said, brushing her hair back.
"But you didn't really think about Merle," she went on. "From the way people talk, the two of you were close."
"I don't know if I'd call it close," Daryl frowned as he thought. "Merle…he was…I don't know the words for this. He just did what he wanted you know? And I've never…I've never really been that way. But because I was Merle Dixon's brother people thought it; they were scared of him so they were wary of me. And he saved me. Stood up to the old man, wouldn't let him hurt me."
Daryl was surprised when his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and continued, "Everything I knew about strength was either from Merle or Bo and I never have figured out how to blend the two of them together. Merle never talked to me, never really even knew me except to say that I was his little brother. Nobody fucked with me, that was for damn sure, but Merle didn't really pay attention either. I wonder what he thought about havin' to deal with a ten year old kid. He coulda run off, he coulda left me there and I can't figure out why he wouldn't then and he did now."
Songbird didn't answer, or acknowledge the fact that she could tell from his ragged breathing that Daryl was doing his best to keep from crying. She just laid her head on his chest. He needed to get it out in the open and feel whatever he was feeling if he really wanted to move past it.
"Why you think he did that, Songbird?" Daryl asked. "Why'd he leave?"
"I didn't know him in his right mind," she answered.
Daryl laughed, a half laugh, half choked expression of grief as he said, "Merle Wayne Dixon was never in his right mind, swear to god. I just don't get it. When I saw you with him I wanted to kill him…I wanted to keep you safe. I hated him for hurting you, for scaring you…but I kept seein' him the way he was when I was a kid. He was always so goddamn cocky. Always had an answer and he fucked with me every chance he got. Messin' with my food, puttin' vinegar in my milk or salt in my ice cream…I couldn't stop seein' him that way. As the big brother that messed with me just to see me get mad and kept me safe," he swallowed hard. "And I couldn't help you. Because he wasn't always that far gone. I'm not sure, but I don't think he always hated me."
"He didn't always hate you, Daryl," she whispered, listening to his ragged breathing and feeling an ache in her own chest. "He said good things about you. He came back for you…it's just that seeing you happy pushed him over the edge. And that's his fault, not yours."
"Oh I know it's not my fault," he admitted. "It just feels like it. Like maybe if I hadn't gone huntin' that night, I coulda gone to Atlanta with them…"
"And you'd have ended up cuffed to that rooftop too wouldn't you?" she asked.
After a minute Daryl shrugged and said, "Probably. But…hell, I've never known what it's like to be more than Merle Dixon's kid brother. It was really weird to be by myself."
"Why did you kick me out of the truck after that if you didn't blame me?" Songbird hoped she wouldn't piss him off, but it was something she'd been wondering for a really long while.
"I felt like a failure," Daryl said roughly. "And I didn't know how to tell you that I don't know what I'd do if I lost you…that it worries me sick to think that you could get hurt…I thought it'd be better if you hated me. But you sorta wouldn't."
"I sort of couldn't," she replied, looking up at him with a slight smile. "I was already in love with you by then."
"How long?" Daryl asked, wanting to steer the conversation away from his brother, even though he did feel better getting that out in the open. "When did you fall in love with me?"
"Hmmm…" she chewed her lip in thought. "Well, the lust happened almost immediately."
"Really?" he was surprised at that. "I knocked you down!"
"And you yelled at me," Songbird smiled as if she'd just mentioned flowers he'd brought her or something. "But you were right! I mean, I wouldn't have responded so positively if this were the same world it was last year…"
He couldn't help grinning in return, even though he shook his head at her.
"So, yeah…sexy southern man standing there with a crossbow being all hot-headed and still smart…yum."
He kissed her and she wrapped her arms around him, returning the kiss eagerly for a few minutes before pulling back to say, "I fell in love with you when you yelled at me after the Walker attack. When we kissed for the first time."
"That was a good night," Daryl agreed. "Not the attack…but the kiss. I never liked that part much before."
"Really? What's not to like?" Songbird was confused.
He shrugged as he said, "I don't know, it just seemed frustrating. Gettin' goin' like that and then stoppin' before you get to the good part."
"You seem to enjoy stopping before the good part with me," she pointed out.
"I never enjoyed that!" Daryl thought for a moment and then said, "Well, maybe a little bit. Life's so fuckin' different now. And kissin' you is somethin' that's good enough to do for a while."
"How about doing some of that now?" she asked, giving him a grin.
"Sure, why not?"
She wrapped her arms around him as he took her mouth, teasing her slowly. She enjoyed the taste of Pepsi and whiskey on his tongue and let her body relax under his, returning the kisses and twisting her fingers in his hair. Daryl waited for the moment when her breathing had increased and her body moved against his.
"Tell me your name," he murmured against her mouth.
"What?" she gasped, trying to focus on his words, rather than the fact that his hands had moved to the waistband of her pajama pants.
"Come on darlin'," Daryl tried for charming, kissing down her neck. It sounded way too rough though and he frowned, trying again. "I won't tell nobody. I just want to know."
She shook her head, seriously considering laughing at Daryl's attempt to sound charming.
"Just don't stop," was all she said.
He stopped.
"Don't you think this has gone far enough?" he asked in frustration. "You fuck me every night, we're together practically all day…just fuckin' tell me!"
Songbird held her breath for a moment and then decided not to get mad; she figured a distraction was the best way to go. There was, after all, something she'd never gotten around to.
She shifted, pressing her lips to his chest and inching her fingers down to the waistband of his jeans.
"What the fuck do you think you're…" the words ended in groan as she flicked the button of his jeans open and wrapped her hand around him, glancing up and meeting her eyes as she ran her tongue down the center of his chest. "Fuck."
The tone of the last "Fuck" told her that this wouldn't be a challenge. She eased further down, still pumping with her right hand as she licked and teased down over his stomach, which tightened as propped on his elbows to see her better. Her long hair brushed over him and he didn't bother holding back another groan at the agonizingly light contact.
She looked up at him again, holding eye contact, and he'd never seen her dark eyes look so wicked as she licked her lips.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Just keep your hair back so I can see," he answered with a nod.
She smiled and tugged her hair behind her and then took a deep breath to get her nerve up. When her mouth closed around him he bit his lip. He hadn't wanted to ask her, but he's always loved this. Probably due to the fact that it was totally selfish…and god she did it so well that he couldn't take his eyes off of her.
"Thought you'd never…" he caught his breath when her tongue flicked the tip of his cock. "Done this?"
"I haven't," Songbird looked up at him. "I'm doing it right though aren't I?"
He grinned and nodded; she was still so damn cute.
She concentrated after that, working on taking him deeper. His mouth dropped open when she eventually took all of him down her throat.
"Jesus…" he groaned. He'd never been with a girl who could do that. It was the most amazing thing…Songbird swallowed around him. "Christ!"
He collapsed backward and she laughed around him. That felt good too. He closed his eyes, even though he'd planned to watch every second of her sucking him. Daryl thought that if he added any extra stimulation to the situation he'd just keel over.
Songbird continued for a while, alternating licks, sucks, and taking him down her throat until his knuckles turned white from his grip on the blanket. She wished she'd been doing this the whole time! It was actually awesome and way better than that other thing. Daryl's breathing was getting ragged and she could see a sheen of sweat over his chest.
"Don't you want to…" she pulled back to ask. "Um…you know…"
"Yeah," he answered, catching his breath. "And no…it's really fuckin' good darlin'."
She smiled and went back to it, glad to be a success at something today. Daryl reached down and tangled his fingers in her hair, pushing when he wanted down her throat again and groaning when she took him obediently. Ah, shit it was going to be over quicker than he wanted.
"Darlin', I'm gonna…" he broke off when she nodded, with no indication of moving.
Pure excitement over that was enough to finish the job. She swallowed and his head fell back against the pillow again.
"Holy god," he groaned when he was capable of speech.
She moved back up and snuggled against him, laying her palm on his stomach, smiling as she felt his muscles twitch. That only happened when his orgasm was really strong. Swallowing hadn't been so bad either. It was warm and kind of thick…but really, he'd been far enough down her throat that it pretty much bypassed the taste buds. Yeah. She could do that much more often and be perfectly content with it.
"You…that…" Daryl didn't even open his eyes as he said, "You're so fuckin' perfect darlin'."
"Want to take a nap?" she asked.
"Fuck yes," he answered in relief. He was exhausted, even if it was only the middle of the day. "But no age related jokes."
She climbed down and turned the lights off, then crawled back in bed. Daryl had wrapped his arm around her and nearly drifted off when she said, "It's okay. Dale naps everyday too."
He was too tired to do more than pinch her ass and say, "Blow me. Oh wait…"
"Have a good nap, Daryl," Songbird replied cuddling close and grinning into the darkness.
The next day Daryl flat out felt like shit. He was totally exhausted and all he'd done was feed the damn goats. He'd lain down on the couch and put his arm over his eyes, remembering Songbird's joke about Dale and his naps and thinking dark thoughts about age differences. Eventually he'd fallen asleep but he only felt worse when he woke up. He had a headache and all his muscles felt sore. He also had watch duty but he couldn't seem to motivate himself off of the couch. Maybe if he slept for a few more minutes…
Songbird, who'd been looking all over for him when Glenn told her that he hadn't turned up for watch, was taken aback when she saw him laying on the couch. Daryl hardly ever slept during the day. He forced himself out of bed at roughly the same time she did and found something to occupy his time until he took her to bed around 9:30. What with one thing and another, they usually fell asleep by 11:00.
"Daryl?" she whispered.
He didn't answer and she put her hand on his arm to shake him awake. Then she noticed the unnatural heat of his skin. She pressed her hand to his forehead; he was burning up. He swatted her hand away without really waking up, mumbling low in his throat.
"Daryl," she said again, louder this time. "Wake up okay?"
"Not right now," he answered, his voice sounding rough. She noticed he made a face when he swallowed.
"You're sick," she informed him matter-of-factly.
"No the fuck I'm not," he said, in a sleepy, belligerent voice. "I'm just tired. Quit buggin' me and wake me up for watch duty."
"You were supposed to be on watch an hour ago," Songbird told him.
Daryl sat up quickly and promptly regretted it; the room tilted like he was drunk and he had to put his head, which now felt like it was being jack hammered, in his hands.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothin'!" he took a deep breath and stood up. "I'm fine."
Two steps proved him wrong. Songbird steadied him and shook her head.
"You're going to bed," she said firmly. "Someone else can take the watch with Glenn."
"That's crazy," he argued, trying not to wince at the pain in his throat, which felt nearly raw. "I'm fine."
"Really? Then why are you so hot?"
"I been workin' out," he said dryly.
"Funny. But you're going to bed," Songbird would have crossed her arms, but he was leaning on her a little more heavily than he probably assumed he was, and she didn't want to let go and risk having him hit the floor.
"You're overreactin'…" he began as another wave of dizziness washed over him.
"You're being so stubborn! I'll get T-dog in here to carry you if I have to!"
And damn it if she didn't look serious.
"All right fine," Daryl said with an exasperated sigh. "You can explain why the hell I'm not on watch where I should be then."
"And I will when I've got you in bed," she said, her jaw determinedly set.
"I can put myself to bed!"
"Stop bitching."
He was sort of surprised by that, so he went down the hall with her. He kept his arm around her because, even though the living room had been way too damn hot, the fuckin' hallway was freezing somehow. They passed Shane in the hallway and he agreed to take Daryl's watch so Songbird opened their bedroom door and turned down the blankets of the bottom bunk closest to the door.
"What are you doin'?" Daryl asked in confusion, bracing his hand on the metal frame of the bunk and locking his knees to keep them from buckling.
"Closest to the door, in case you need to get to the bathroom or something," she said practically. "Sit down before you fall over and I'll get your pajamas."
"Get me a long-sleeved shirt too," he said. "It's fuckin' cold in here."
It was the normal temperature, but Songbird didn't argue. She got his pajama pants, and a thermal shirt, and then pulled the blankets from two of the other bunks. He sighed in irritation when she undressed him and helped him dress in the other stuff, even though his arms felt like they were made of lead and he was so tired again that he could barely hold his head up.
Lying down in that bunk bed felt like heaven. Daryl didn't mean to, but he gave a long sigh of contented relief. He forced his eyes open though when Songbird stepped away from the bed.
"Where you goin'?"
"I'm just putting my pajamas on," she explained.
It was early, but she figured Daryl would need the body heat. He was already having chills. She pulled on her red and white striped footie pajamas and got in bed. Daryl moved closer and wrapped his arms around her. She could feel him shivering even though his fever was so high that she was starting to sweat just lying next to him.
"Ready to admit you're sick yet?" she asked, running her fingers through his hair.
"Fuck you," he responded.
"I'd pay you a million dollars if you could manage it right now," she teased, not offended.
"You don't have a million dollars," he said tiredly.
"That's true, it's better not to take the bet knowing that I couldn't pay up," she replied, trying to hide her worry.
His shivers were stronger and he was so close that she couldn't have moved even if she'd wanted to.
"It's just so cold," he murmured, when she protested that he was nearly pushing her off the bed.
"I'm going to get you some medicine," she said.
He shook his head, "I'm not that sick."
"Daryl! You're burning up. You're shaking the entire bed, and not in the usual good way…"
"And someone else might need that stuff later," Daryl cut in. "Like you, or one of the kids. Just let me go to sleep, and I'm sure I'll be fine in the mornin'."
"Okay, be stubborn," Songbird answered with a worried frown. "Do you at least want me to get you something to drink?"
"Yeah," he responded. "Somethin' cold."
She slid out of bed and went down the hall, muttering to herself about hardheaded rednecks as she filled a glass with ice and water. She stopped by the medicine supply and poked through the box for a moment or two. Daryl had been one of the ones to risk his life getting the supplies; she saw no reason why he shouldn't have some of the medicine. She found NyQuil and snagged it, and one of the thermometers. She also stopped by the bathroom and got a washcloth, running it under the tap and squeezing it out, just in case his fever broke and his chills stopped.
"Where the fuck you been?" Daryl asked when she came back in the room, dashing her hopes that he'd fallen asleep in the meantime.
"I got a thermometer," she said. "Take your temperature before you take a drink."
Daryl sighed, but he put the thermometer in his mouth and waited for the beep.
Songbird took it and turned it.
"It's over 103," she said worriedly. "I got some medicine. Will you please take it?"
"No. I told you, if you let me get to sleep I'll be fine," he said again.
She didn't answer and he didn't open his eyes, but he could feel the "angry girlfriend" stare. For someone who'd only been with one guy she was good at it.
"If it's still that high in the mornin' I'll take somethin' for it," he went on. "Now can I please have my damn drink?"
She huffed and handed him the water. He scrunched his face up as he swallowed it, but it was at least cold enough to numb his throat a little bit. Of course that made the chills worse. He closed his eyes and, when Songbird got back into bed, this time with a book, he pulled her close again. Daryl didn't care if she was pissed off; he needed her heat.
She let him snuggle against her, even though she was ticked off at his refusal to take medicine like a normal human being, and she read until it was bedtime. Daryl didn't really get into any kind of deep sleep; every time he drifted off, he woke up again. Songbird got up and turned the light off, figuring that would help.
Daryl was sitting on his tailgate when suddenly he heard something scrape against the side of his truck, like nails on a chalkboard. Was somebody keying his fucking truck? He slid off the tailgate and walked around.
The Walker lurched toward him, dragging one hand along the side of the truck, seemingly for balance. Its long, sharp nails were digging into the paint and sending shivers down his spine from the sound. Only the red hair and bloody Army fatigues told Daryl who it was.
"Rooster?"
It was stupid and he knew it, but he had to know if the thing could still understand. It jerked to a stop and looked at him, tilting its head, giving him a view of dried blood, brain matter, and hanging skin. Then it moved forward again, shuffling a bit more quickly as he backed away. The crossbow was on the tailgate. He just had to…he backed into something solid.
"Ah bobhain," the voice rasped in his ear as strong hands gripped both his arms, turning him around.
Daryl tried to move, but he couldn't. James held him tightly, grinning with sharp teeth as Daryl struggled.
"I always said I could eat you right up," James grated.
Rooster had gotten behind him by that point, and Daryl felt his long, bony fingers dig into his scalp, yanking his head back. James lowered his head and ripped out his throat, cutting Daryl's yell off abruptly.
"Daryl?" Songbird shook him when he yelled.
He propped up on one elbow, too dizzy to attempt sitting, momentarily sick with panic at the pain that remained in his throat.
"Water," he croaked.
She handed it to him, he drank and the pain eased a bit.
"What on earth happened?" she asked when he lay back down again, still catching his breath.
"Bad dream," he replied. "It's okay now."
It wasn't really, but it felt better when she snuggled up against him, wrapping her arms around him and running her fingers through his hair. He rarely had bad dreams; it was probably just a fluke. Daryl closed his eyes.
He was down near the pond. Michelangelo lay beside him on the grass and Songbird lounged on the other side of the massive dog. Suddenly Michelangelo's nose twitched and he bolted up.
"It's just Rick and Lucky," Songbird said lazily. "Calm down."
Michelangelo didn't calm down though. His posture stiffened even more and he whimpered briefly. Daryl put his hand on the dog's neck and glanced around. There was nothing, other than Rick and Lucky moving slowly toward them. Why were they walking like that?
"Songbird," Daryl began uneasily. "Get up."
She stood up and gave him a concerned glance. "What's wrong?"
"I don't know," he replied. "Take the dog up and…"
Suddenly Michelangelo bolted, headed for Lucky and Rick at a furious pace, soundless and deadly.
"No! Michelangelo!" Songbird took off after him and Daryl ran after her.
By the time he got there it was too late. Lucky dodged Michelangelo and grabbed Songbird, leaving long scratches down her arm. Rick grabbed her other hand, yanking her back against him as he lowered his head.
"No!" Daryl threw himself at Rick, knocking him flat.
Songbird twisted away from Lucky and stared down at the scratches, already swelling and streaking her arm with blood and the angry heat of infection. Daryl stood again, looking down at the man who'd been his best friend as Michelangelo jumped for Lucky again, taking her down this time. The dog ripped her arm off and Daryl put his foot down on Rick's chest, holding him in place.
"Daryl," Songbird swallowed hard. "I'm going to die."
"No you're not," he said firmly.
By this time Michelangelo had ripped Lucky apart and stood with his head hanging. Rick was clawing at Daryl's leg, but his nails couldn't penetrate the thick denim.
"Yes," she said softly. "I am."
Before he could move, she bent and snatched the handgun from Rick's holster, backing up as she said, "I love you."
"No!" his shout coincided with the blast of the gun and Songbird dropped, having shot herself clean through the brain.
His whole body went numb; he barely even noticed that Rick had managed to stand. Before Rick could reach him though, Michelangelo raised his head, blood and strings of muscle tissue hanging from his jaws. For the first time, the dog growled. Daryl wondered if any part of Michelangelo existed anymore. He was almost relieved when the huge dog sprang, knocking him to the ground so hard he couldn't breathe. In a few seconds it wouldn't matter anyway.
The dog bit in as Rick knelt beside him, ripping Daryl's shirt and chest open, scooping handfuls of flesh to his mouth. Daryl didn't want to fight, but he pushed them back involuntarily, trying to escape the pain…
Songbird shook him, waking him up again.
"What time is it?" he asked after a sip or two of water.
"3 in the morning," Songbird said.
"So I've actually been asleep?" Daryl was surprised.
"You aren't resting," she replied. "You're tossing and turning and making weird noises…are you sure you won't consider taking some medicine?"
When he started to say no, she said, "Look, if nothing else, so I can get some sleep? You're keeping me awake too you know."
He was, but she didn't really care. He was still burning up and she knew he'd feel better if he could rest without dreams.
"If I wake you up again, then I will," Daryl promised, thinking that two bad dreams in one night was probably his limit.
He was walking into his old trailer.
"Hey, I'm home!" he called out.
"Well, if it ain't my little brother," Merle answered from the back. "Why don't you come back here and see what I've been up to?"
Daryl walked back, shoving his keys into his pocket as he walked down the hall.
The scene in his bedroom nearly made him sick. Blood was splattered everywhere, including up the walls, damn near to the ceiling. The figure tied to the bed by wrists and ankles was moving slowly, the head tossing back and forth; Merle grinned.
"I been havin' lots of fun with your little jailbait bitch," he said conversationally. "Tryin' to get her to tell the truth about her damn name. I know it bugs the shit outta you…just tryin' to help, like a good big brother."
Daryl realized with shock that the figure on the bed had red gold hair. She turned to face him, agony and confusion in her dark eyes. She couldn't speak because Merle had gagged her. But it was Songbird. She was all cut up; Daryl saw Merle's hunting knife lying near her stomach.
"You wanted me to be a better brother didn't you?" Merle asked, picking up the knife and turning it in his hand, watching the blood run down the blade. "I figured I'd start by makin' sure your girlfriend is always honest with you. Ain't that right sweetheart? You're gonna be honest with Daryl from now on ain't ya?"
Songbird whimpered. Almost casually, Merle dragged the knife down her stomach. Her scream of pain was muffled because of the gag, but it cut through Daryl as surely as Merle's knife had broken her delicate skin.
"Stop it!" Daryl ordered. "What the hell do you think you're doin'? I gotta get her to the hospital…"
"You can't do that," Merle said. "You know I've got those fuckin' priors. They'll put me away. You wouldn't let that happen would you?"
"Fuck you! She's gonna die!"
"Always more worried about her than me," Merle's tone changed from casual amusement to cold rage.
He reached out and shoved Daryl against the wall, one arm across his chest to hold him there while bringing his knee up and slamming it between Daryl's legs, robbing him of breath.
"You're right; she is gonna die. You can go with her. She likes Shakespeare? How 'bout a little Romeo and Juliet?"
Daryl barely had time to gulp air before Merle drove the knife into his stomach and jerked upward. Daryl wondered if this was how fish felt, yanked on land, unable to catch a breath, to feel their skin split and have everything that should have been inside subjected to sudden gravity on the outside. It was a weird sensation for damn sure. Merle let him go and to his surprise, he managed to stay on his feet, his hands going to his stomach, pressing, trying to keep everything where it should be.
"Good luck little brother," Merle said with a smile and a shake of his head. "God, you should see the look on your face."
He walked out. Daryl staggered over to the bed, reading the horror in Songbird's eyes. He let go of his stomach with one hand and fumbled with the gag, eventually working it free.
"Daryl…" she gasped, clearly going into shock.
He lay beside her, feeling warmth spread through his body as his blood soaked the covers, pooling and mixing with hers.
"I'm so sorry," he forced the words out. "I'm so fuckin' sorry…"
Her eyes closed.
"No! Stay with me; stay with me darlin'," he begged. "God, I don't want to die alone…I don't want to die alone."
"Daryl!" Songbird woke him again. "I'm right here. It's okay!"
He took a deep breath, reaching out and running his hands over her face and body. His throat hurt too much to explain the dream. His subconscious mind was a bitch when he was sick apparently.
"All right that's it!" Songbird sounded a little scared and a whole lot determined.
Daryl took the medicine she handed him without complaint and drifted into a drugged and, thank God, dreamless, sleep. After that, for the next few days, he only woke up long enough to drink, pee, and take more medicine. Songbird worried about his fever until the fourth morning when she woke to find her pajamas soaked and Daryl as far away from her as he could get, no shirt and no covers. Sweat stood on his skin and he was back to tossing and turning. Songbird smiled in relief. Finally, his fever had broken.
"What are you grinnin' about?" Daryl inquired roughly.
"Take your temperature," she replied, holding the thermometer out.
He did and she smiled again when she saw the numbers.
"99," she informed him.
He nodded and took a drink of the water she held out. The sweat covering him and the sheets bugged him and he shifted irritably.
"Do you want to take a shower?" she asked.
"Yeah," he was dying to take a shower actually.
She hopped out of bed and gathered some clean clothes for both of them. Daryl raised his eyebrow, but he didn't say anything as he accompanied her across the hall.
"Hey! You've joined the land of the living!" Glenn called from the guy's room.
Daryl grunted.
"And you've regained basic communication skills!" Glenn went on.
"Or learned them for the first time," Shane put in.
Daryl held his middle finger up briefly and went into the bathroom; Songbird laughed and shook her head, ignoring the looks from both guys when she went into the bathroom after him. He wouldn't want to admit it, but he was still pretty shaky and she wanted to be in there in case he needed her.
"Look, I don't need you to," Daryl began when she closed the door behind them.
"I want to take a shower," she said innocently. "You got your sweat all over me. What'd they say in the 60's? Save water, shower with a friend? Well, I'm just being environmentally conscientious."
He snorted in disbelief and got undressed. His hope that he wasn't sick anymore died when she stripped and his body didn't react at all. Damn it. He stepped into the shower, letting the lukewarm water wash the sweat away and closing his eyes with a sigh.
Songbird poured some of his soap into a washcloth and began washing his back. He braced his hands on the wall and enjoyed the attention. By the time he opened his eyes again, she'd soaped all of him up and they switched places so he could rinse off and she could soap up as well. He washed his hair quickly and then stepped out, drying off while she shaved and washed her hair. Before he could get dressed he had to sit down to rest. God, he hated being sick! He dressed in the sweatpants and tee-shirt she'd put on the counter and told her he was going back to the room.
"Okay," she called, rinsing her hair, glad he was going to rest without them having to argue over it.
She had to rethink that when she went back to the room to find Daryl stripping the bed and looking extremely shaky.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Sheets need to be washed," he said, tossing the bundle into the corner.
"Yeah well, I was going to do that," she informed him. "You need to rest…"
"I've been resting for 4 damn days," he snapped. "I'm fuckin' sick and tired of resting. And I'm sick of this damn room," he balled up the pillowcase and hurled it against the wall, "and every goddamn thing in it!"
"Daryl…" she began.
"No. I'm…" he looked around for something else to throw, and finding nothing in reach, he simply pointed emphatically in her direction. "I'm goin' outside."
"It's not even 30 degrees!" Songbird protested.
"I don't give a fuck if it's 30 goddamn below!" Daryl bellowed, yanking his boots on and stomping out of the room. "Wash the damn sheets!"
Shane, Glenn, Andrea, and Carol all stared at him as he walked by and that was irritating too.
"Christ! I'm just goin' outside!" he yelled.
Wisely, no one said anything else. Once he was gone, they all turned and looked at Songbird. She shrugged.
"Apparently he's a crappy patient," she said.
"Are you gonna wash the sheets?" Glenn asked.
"Yes," she answered, "But only because I'd planned to anyway."
"Somebody's gonna catch hell later," Shane said in an undertone.
"Dang straight," Songbird replied sedately as she gathered up the sheets and walked down the hall.