"Hold still, will you?"

His voice startles me. 'm so tired, can't pay attention t'anything for more than a few moments at a time. I try t'focus on what's right in front of me, but it's real difficult. He's gripping m'arm hard enough t'hurt now, and I can finally feel it. He looks at me, exasperated but worried. His eyes are so blue, even now I can' help but notice how beautiful they are. Sad and beautiful.

Dixon, get a grip!

I look down instead, and immediately wish I hadn't. There's a big gash on m' forearm, and his hand that's holding me is red wi' blood. The familiar taste of bile at the back of m' throat shakes me back t'reality, and I can't suppress a groan as the nausea surges. If there was anything at all left t'come up I'm sure I'd be puking now. As it is I jus' avert my head, close m' eyes.

"Daryl, what's the matter? Does it hurt?"

His tone is really worried now. I shake m' head, can actually feel mys'f shakin' all over. He's finishing off quickly. I can feel bandages tightening round m' arm. This really hurts. Good. I can' help but groan again. He doesn't let go of m' arm for a while longer. His grip is less vice-like now, I can almost feel his fingers soothe gentle circles against m' wrist. I mus' be hallucinating.

There's a tap agains' m' leg an' he lets go of m' arm. I squint down.

"Drink."

He's tapping a water bottle against m' knee. I start t'shake m' head, but his hand suddenly clamps down on m' wris' again, not gentle now. Startled, I look up. His eyes are two dark pools now in t'firelight. He looks fuzzy round the edges. M' head feels fuzzy too. Man, 'm so exhausted. I can hardly focus as he speaks 'gain.

"Daryl, this is no request. Drink the water, you've lost quite a bit of blood. Then lie down, sleep. Crisis is over for now. You're done in, if you don't get some rest you'll be a liability. We can't have that, understand?"

M' eyes have slid off his face. I find I can' look at'm now. I feel sick wi' shame. He's not havin' it though. His grip tightens further, until I hiss wi' t'pain of it. When I look back up he doesn' look exactly mad, but I c'n tell he's had enough.