For Daryl the next week went by quickly. The catheter came out, together with all of the IVs exceptone, which Dr. Edwards capped off. "For emergencies," he said.
Daryl started physiotherapy with a nice young man who came to his room every morning. The exertion of just sitting up on the corner of his bed was too much on the first day, and the nausea returned with a vengeance.
On the second day, dosed up on Tigan, things went better. Supported by Rick Daryl managed to stagger over to the armchair on his compression stockinged feet and managed to stay seated there for thirty minutes before his incision site became too painful. Daryl slept away most of that afternoon, but in the evening he felt properly hungry for the first time since the accident and managed a good part of his rather uninspired hospital dinner.
The day after that the stitches came out. That was not half as horrible as the drains had been, and Daryl actually felt well enough to grin broadlywhen he happened to glance at Rick's face, which had turned rather pale. Without the stitches his incision was less painful, and he felt more confident to move around.
But Daryl didn't feel ready to leave the hospital. He could tell that Rick was getting impatient, so he gave his best to get stronger quickly. He worked very hard during the week to be ready as soon as possible, so much so that on Friday he was in more pain than he'd had all week. Rick had arrived early that morning, and after one look at Daryl he had told the nurses to cancel Daryl's physical therapy for that day. Then he'd climbed in tobednext to Daryl, who was trying to breathe through the pain that was lodged somewhere behind his belly button.
Rick pulled Daryl into his arms carefully. "Why didn't you tell anyone that you were hurting so much?"
He pressed the button for the nurse and when she arrived he requested some pain meds. Daryl was grateful and when the meds kicked in he relaxed. He snuggled into Rick and, feeling safe and cared for, he fell asleep.
On Sunday Daryl and Rick went outside for the first time. Daryl had walked along the corridor, always to the elevator and back, and with fewer and fewer breaks, all week. After resting on Friday he'd felt much better on Saturday, and finally now felt confident that he was approaching a level of strength that would allow him to go outside.
Rick wheeled Daryl down to the ground floor in a wheelchair, which they left outside the door sas they walked slowly towards a set of park benches about a hundred yards from the entrance. The grounds of the hospital weren't the most picturesque, here in the heart of Atlanta, and there weren't many places to sit down, which limited their options.
When they got to the benches, Daryl having walked the entire distance on his own, they sat down.
"I can't make up my mind about your things, Daryl."
Daryl looked confused. "What do you mean?"
"Your stuff at Merle's." Rick looked Daryl up and down. Daryl was wearing a borrowed coat over his hospital gown, and hospital issue slippers. "I don't think I have ever met anyone who cares so little about possessions."
Daryl shrugged. It was true, he didn't care that he'd had no access to anything he owned. He was used to having very little, having grown up in a house where money was wasted on booze and cigarettes and hardly any was ever left even for sufficient food. The only things that he would reallylike back from Merle's were his clothes, which was the one thing he'd spent any money on. He had an old, battered computer as well, but overall he'd not be sorry never to see any of his things again if that meant neither of them had to go back and deal with Merle.
"'s not important," he mumbled.
But Rick wouldn't let it go. "For now, I think we'll just have to leave it be, anyway. I don't want to rattle Merle, his head is in a fucked-up place already. I'll bring you some clothes of mine for Wednesday, though you'll wear out my shirts something awful with your broad shoulders."
Daryl looked up at Rick, who was grinning. Daryl grinned back, then nudged Rick with his shoulder. He was glad when Rick suggested they head back inside. He didn't want to talk about Merle, or think about him. Of course, neither was realistic.
Daryl had worried himself about the consequencesever since Rick had said he'd take him home. Heknew that Merle was far from finished with him, but he just couldn't tell Rick about that yet. He also knew that looking after him and spending all this time away from workwas already putting a strain on Rick's finances, and that that would only increase when he had another mouth to feed at home.
Maybe, Daryl mused, when he was back to normal in a few weeks, he could do something about this – and maybe,at the same time,give Merle what he wanted.
Back in their room Daryl was glad to lie down. He'd made the re t urnjourney well enough with Rick's help, but this was still the biggest exertion since the accident and his body was none too happy with him.
His cell rang just when he'd settled down. It was Carol.
"Hey, what's up?"
"Hey, Daryl. Is Rick there?"
"Yeah." Daryl motioned to Rick who'd washanging up their coats.
"Can you put me on speakerphone? He should hear this, too."
Daryl lowered the phone and pressed the speaker button, saying to Rick, "Carol has something to tell us."
Rick, looking curious, sat down on the end of the bed.
"Hey, Rick?" Carol's voice sounded a bit tinny and far off.
"Hi there. Is everything all right ?"
"Ed is dead." There was a pause during which Daryl caught Rick's eyes, looking stunned.
"What happened?" Rick tried not to let any emotion show in his voice just yet.
"From what they tell me he started a brawl with sever a l inmates also on remand. He was off his head on cold turkey, and had been acting oddly all day. One of the other thugs stabbed him through the eye with a sharpened spoon. He was dead before he hit the floor."
Carol's voice was emotionless. Daryl didn't know what to think. This was a horrible way to die, but, he reminded himself, this was the man who'd been hitting his wife with a baseball bat.
"Wow, Carol," was all he could bring himself to say.
"I am not sorry that bastard is gone." There was real steel in Carol's voice, and Daryl knewthat this new Carol was not someone he ever wanted to cross.
"Amazingly," Carol added, "Ed had still been paying into his life insurance until he was fired. I've already been in touch with them, they'll pay us a nice sum. I won't have to stick with the shelf stacking job. I'm thinking of taking some evening classes at the community college, actually."
They rang off shortly after that. Rick looked as stunned as Daryl felt.
"This was ...unexpected," he said. Daryl nodded. Rick added, "Maybe Merle will lay off now, too. After all, without a trial against Ed you are not really a threat against him."
Daryl didn't say anything. He would love toshareRick's optimism, but he knew his brother too well for that.
And then, in no time at all, or so it seemed to Daryl, it was Wednesday and he was getting ready to leave the hospital. He'd actually been allowed to shower, supervised by a male nurse, for the first time since being in the hospital. Rick had arrived early and had brought him sweatpants and an old sweater that was just about broad enough in the shoulders. Daryl felt like he'd lost at least 20 pounds and the sweatpants hung very looselyon his waist.
"We'll really need to get you some proper clothes."Rick looked him over critically. Daryl just waved him away.
"Don't spend more money on me, man."
Rick squeezed his good shoulder. "We'll see. Ready?"
Daryl nodded, though his nerves were definitely playing up. He got off the bed and sat down in the wheelchair that Dr. Edwards had brought. The doctor had insisted that he'd see them off.
Dr. Edwards wheeled him to the elevator, out again and into the car park. He stopped by Rick's car and straightened up.
"You both have my number,"he said as Rick opened the passenger door. "Call me if you need anything."
He helped Daryl out of the wheelchair and into the car. Once settled Daryl stretched out his hand.
"Thank you, doctor. For everything."
Dr. Edwards shook the offered hand and grinned. "I guess I just have to give up hope now that either of you will call me Steven..."
Rick shook the doctor's hand next. "I am truly grateful, too. Steven," he added with a smile.
Daryl could see the doctor waving in the side mirror as they pulled out of the hospital car park.