AN: Wow, I got to a WiFi spot again! How amazing! Only one chapter left after this. Again thanks for reading and reviewing. :)
Waiting two days was easier said than done. He was nowhere near back to his usual self, but definitely on the mend. And restless. He still frequently nodded off, but when he was awake, he was getting increasingly harder for his caretakers to put up with; being uncooperative and generally grouchy. He tried not to be rude. After all, they'd saved his life, but he just couldn't help it. It was in his nature.
He wanted out of this damn bed. And they just wouldn't let him.
They had nothing to do for someone who was laid up to pass the time. The only reading material the group possessed was a medical journal about anatomy that Glenn and Maggie had picked up on their run for supplies, and Daryl'd already read it from cover to cover. Multiple times. He could probably recite it in its entirety if someone were inclined to request it of him. Turned out, it was actually rather interesting. He'd cleaned all his weapons, as well as everyone else's, till they were so free of filth that cleaning them any more would be a danger to their integrity, he'd counted all the ceiling tiles about 50 times. He'd taunted and harassed Carol and Rick and Hershel, and anyone else brave enough to venture into his domain. He was going stir crazy.
So that third day when Hershel came in, removing the IV and deeming him well enough to get up for short periods, along with strict instructions not to over-do it, Daryl was elated. Of course, there really wasn't anywhere for him to go aside from their dining/gathering room, where he would no doubt be bombarded with well-wishes and 'thank goodness you're okay's', but fuck it was a different venue, and he was likely to turn violent if he had to stay in this room another minute.
The walk to the dining area was slow going and left Daryl surprisingly tired, but he did his best to mask the fatigue, unwilling to be sent back to bed already. Hershel had followed him, ready to catch him should he fall, and wasn't that just pathetic. An old man in better shape than he was.
He was relieved to find that the room was empty, save for Beth and T-dog, both sitting at one of the tables, Beth folding clothes and T-dog counting ammunition. They both looked up when he entered, and watched quietly as he made his way across the room to the lone, weathered loveseat hugging the far wall underneath a boarded up window. He sat down heavily with a sigh. Couch was pretty comfortable for such an old thing.
"Hey man." T-dog greeted him from where he sat. "Good to see you back in the land of the living."
Daryl looked at the man with a wry smirk. "Yeah, thanks."
"Would you like something to eat, Daryl?" Beth asked in that soft-spoken way of hers. "I could fix something up for you."
"Naw, I'm alright." He still hadn't regained much of an appetite. The girl was probably shocked to see how thin he'd gotten. Hell, he probably looked like death to her. The dark bruising under his eyes had only gotten marginally better since the other day, and he was still pale enough to beat a red-headed Irishman in a blind-your-friends contest.
But she just gave him a shy smile, standing anyways. "You at least should drink some water." She announced as she headed toward the kitchen.
Hershel watched his daughter leave the room with a fond look before turning to address Daryl. "Now you take it easy. You're doing much better, but you're not well just yet." With that said he took his leave, passing Beth in the doorway, now laden with a glass of water and a slice of bread.
"In case you get hungry." She told Daryl, holding the items out to him. He took both, and obligingly took a sip of the water, before setting them both down on the scratched surface of the coffee table, offering her a nod of thanks. She gave him another smile then rejoined T-Dog at their table, taking her folding back up.
Daryl turned toward the window, peering out at the world outside between a thin gap in the slats of wood covering it. It was a bleak setting. The overcast sky creating a dreary scene. Everything was blanketed in thick snow, what could only be a harsh and bitter wind whisking the top layer away into a fine dust whipping around in the cold morning air.
He couldn't help but think that the view out there was a reflection of his heart. Cold and bitter. Inhospitable to any who dared venture out into its unforgiving grasp. Damn, but he was trying. Trying to melt the layer of ice coating his heart, a forceful freeze cast on him by all the wrongs and hurts he'd suffered in his life. This group he was with now had taken him in, he was beginning to truly see this, and he couldn't help but be grateful, however begrudgingly. He wanted to let them in. Needed it. He just didn't have the slightest idea of where to begin.
Well shit, maybe he was getting invested too. He could tell he'd been letting the poison of hopefulness seep into him. A result of all the kindness the others had been showing him. He was just so unsure. Dare he take stock in the words of reassurance Carol had been feeding him? Believe the kind actions Rick and Hershel had been showing him were genuine? Trust that Glenn and Maggie held no reservations for going on that run for his benefit; that they truly wanted to help him? He'd always been the outsider, even amongst his own family. The odd man out. The idea of belonging was so inviting… but it couldn't possibly be real. Could it?
A freezing rain began to fall as he continued to look outside, like a precursor to the strengthening resolve of the chill around his heart. And he knew. He couldn't afford it. To become invested. Every time he'd ever let that freeze melt even a little, it was always met with tragedy and pain. This was his lot in life. He'd accepted it a long time ago, now was not the time to begin questioning that fact yet again.
He closed his eyes, shutting out the dismal view. He didn't need to see it. He could feel it just fine.