Daryl and Merle
Daryl woke up feeling sore and weak. He wondered if this was what being a walker felt like, because so far he mostly just felt like himself only shittier. His back felt sore and tender, like even the pressure of a bedsheet might be too much to bear. He blinked his eyes a few times, letting them adjust to the dim light inside the room. He was on a cot in the infirmary. His brother and RickyJo were sleeping on the cot next to him, looking dead to the world. She had her head on Merle's chest and one leg and arm draped over him. His brother was lying on his back, one arm dangling off the side of the cot and his bad arm wrapped around RickyJo. He wasn't wearing his arm piece and Daryl could see the red angry flesh on the stump of his wrist. It was something no one usually got a look at, and Daryl felt strange, like he was seeing the man naked and exposed.
Pushing up with his arms, Daryl lifted his head to look around the rest of the room. On the next cot down, Duane was sleeping, tubes running into his arms and his head wrapped in a bundle of white gauze. Rosita was passed out on the last, her boots on and laced, using her arm as a pillow. Bob was sitting in a chair next to Duane, and it looked like he had also succumbed to exhaustion as well. He was slumped down in the chair with his head tipped back, snorring softly. In a plush easy chair that someone must have dragged in here, Morgan was against the wall, his eyes were closed. Cassie was curled up in his lap sleeping, like she was a small child again instead of a young woman.
Daryl moved a little, trying to find a more comfortable position, and he let out a small groan from the pain. Morgan's eyes fluttered open and when he saw Daryl was awake he smiled.
"How do you feel," Morgan asked him quietly.
"Guess 'bout as good as I look," Daryl told him, "I got scratched, didn't I?" Morgan nodded. Daryl was really starting to wonder now, about how it was that he was still alive.
"RickyJo had a theory," Morgan told him, "she said the virus is inside us all already, so contact with it is not what kills you. She said its the fever. She decided if they could keep your fever down long enough for your body to fight the infection, you might make it." Daryl looked over at her and smiled.
"She looks tired," he said.
"I don't think she slept for two days," Morgan told him, he gestured towards RickyJo and Merle "your fever finally broke around five this morning and then they finally passed out. They were rubbing you with ice and putting cold rags on you, cooling your body down from the outside." Daryl had a vague memory of felling cold and shivery, like the time his dad had took off without paying the heating bill and he had to keep warm by piling under all the blankets in the house. Daryl noticed MJ was missing, it seemed off to see RickyJo without her small son clinging to her.
"MJ alright?," he asked. Morgan nodded again.
"Jess took him and Des home with her so they could get some sleep," Morgan said, "they are all fine." Daryl leaned up to get a look at Morgan's son.
"Hows your boy?," he asked. Morgan's face tensed up and for a minute, Daryl thought he might cry.
"He's not dead yet," Morgan said, trying to sound more hopeful than he felt. Losing Duane now, after all they had been through would be more than he could take. But he knew that even if the boy woke, he was going to be permanently disfigured. He had lost an eye and probably the hearing in the ear on that side of his head. There was no telling until he woke up if he was going to have brain damage or not.
"He's a tough little sumabitch," Daryl said, "he'll be alright." Morgan smiled softly at his son. He was a tough little bastard. Maybe he would be able to pull through this. "Anyone else?," Daryl asked. Morgan shook his head. There had been a aprained ankle, and few scrapes and bruises, and Sammie had gotten a pretty good knot on the head, but everyone was fine. The other losses had been people that had been in Alexandria before they got there. Deanna had held a small funeral for them the day before.
The soft conversation woke Merle up, and he rubbed at his eyes, trying to be still so he wouldn't wake RickyJo. He had tried to talk her into going home with Jessica and getting some sleep in a real bed, but like the stubborn mule of a woman she was, she had adamantly refused to step even one foot out of the infirmary until she knew that Daryl was alright. He had finally just pulled her out of the chair by Daryl's bedside and into the cot with him, rubbing her back for the few seconds it took her to fall asleep. They were all dog tired and drained, but being pregnant put even more of a physical strain on her. He wouldn't be surprised if she slept through the entire day and maybe into the night.
"Hey there lil' brother," Merle said, "welcome back to the land of the living." He reached his hand out to cross the space between the cots and Daryl reached his over to grab it. They held on for a little longer than manly etiquette would allow and then let go. Merle pulled his hand back and wiped a strand of RickyJo's hair out of his face, spitting a little since some of it had gotten into his mouth. Looking at her brought back the issues that had been forgotten while they were tying to save Daryl's life. "What 'er we gonna about this trouble maker here?," Merle asked his brother, stroking RickyJo's hair in a way that suggested she was many things to him other than a pain in the ass. For the first time Daryl was able to look at them and not feel the bitterness and jealousy swelling inside him. He remembered the words he had heard Jessica tell Cassie back when she was just a little squirt and had been jealous of her new baby sister. I don't have a limited amount of love, and giving love to the new baby doesn't mean I love you any less. RickyJo had always been passionate about everything in her life. Maybe she just had more love to hand out than one person could take.
"All the time I've known her," Daryl admitted, "I ain't never known what to do with her. And I sure as hell got no idea where to start now." Merle started laughing, trying not to laugh too hard, since he didn't want to wake RickyJo by jostling her around. He had never had a fucking clue what to do with her either. He wasn't sure what she even was to him anymore, his wife, his lover, the mother of his children, the only person he knew that wasn't afraid to call him out on his bullshit, or maybe even his friend. And he knew if it wasn't for Daryl, she would be dead. Keeping her alive was turning into a full time job and for the first time, Merle was starting to understand that having some help doing it wouldn't be the worst thing he could think of.