Chapter Text
The night goes about how Shane expected it to. Daryl doesn't vomit anymore but neither man gets much sleep. Despite being wounded and nauseated, Daryl tosses and turns in his sheets, whimpering and fighting off unseen assailants. Shane has to wake him up when it gets too intense, comforting him and keeping his demons away until he loses consciousness again. That goes on until just before sunrise, when the farm comes alive and they stay awake with the hustle and bustle of the Greene's.
Hershel steps into the room to check on the pair, not all that surprised to find them awake. Shane is like a silent sentry in the chair, watching as the older man speaks with Daryl and briefly looks him over as he changes his bandages. Still appearing worse for wear, the redneck claims that he feels better and is fine but that doesn't stop the other two from checking. After his episode only a few hours ago, Hershel limits him to a liquid diet until his deprived stomach can handle soft and then more solid foods. Satisfied with the checkup, the vet moves to leave until that quiet voice stops him with a silent request.
"I want to go outside."
It is a question disguised as a comment, an impulsion that Hershel is familiar with, ingrained from a controlling and abusive atmosphere that he, himself, outgrew long ago.
He meets Daryl's eyes only briefly before the other man breaks the contact. He debates the pros and cons, a kindred spirit versus a makeshift physician. He understands the power of the mind in the body's healing process, how important it is to be uplifted in spirit. Ultimately, that is what makes the decision for him.
"If you can manage it, I'm sure it will do you good. So long as you don't strain yourself and keep within his" he gestures to Shane, who perks up at his name, "sights."
The ends of Daryl's lips twitch up in the barest hint of a smile, but it is when he lifts his eyes, glowing in radiant appreciation, that Hershel knows he made the right call.
"I'll find you some clothes. I may even have my late father's cane, if you need it." he says, dismissing himself with his new task.
Once the door closes, Daryl spares a look to Shane, "Won't use no cane."
Shane laughs and leans forward on his elbows, "Fine by me. I'll help you out if you need it."
Daryl doesn't say anything to that and they sit there in silence, waiting for Hershel to return. The older man does so in a matter of minutes, carrying some folded clothes, socks, and boots with a cane swinging from the crook of his arm. Shane and Daryl exchange a look, a silent understanding between them. Hershel lays everything out, all of it several sizes too big but revealing a wound-up belt beneath it all. They are obviously Otis' and Shane's mood darkens.
"Do you need any help?" Hershel asks before he leaves.
"No. Thank you."
"I'll stick around, just in case." Shane pipes up and Daryl doesn't argue.
"Holler if you need anything."
As simple as that, Hershel is gone.
Lost in his own thoughts but convincing himself that it is to respect Daryl's independence, Shane takes his head into his hands and watches from the corner of his eye as the younger man raises himself up in bed with barely a wince. The blanket falls to gather at his naked waist and Shane can't help but sneak a peek at the sliver of exposed skin beneath the bandages. He watches Daryl's biceps flex, lean muscle ripple in his back and shoulders as he shifts himself slowly to the edge of the bed. The new position gives him a perfect view of his damaged back, a roadmap of scars that he'd damn near forgotten about. Most of the blood and grime is gone, rubbed free by the redneck's own sweat and the linen of the sheets.
Daryl moves stiffly, lifting himself from the mattress and shifting gingerly. One leg is exposed over the side, followed by the other, bare feet making no sound as they come in contact with the cool wooden floor. Keeping most of his weight on his arms, he finally lifts himself free of the blankets, buck ass naked save for the bandages. Shane can't stop his eyes from roaming and he feels a bit guilty checking out a rape victim, but he does look away before the other can reveal his front half. It's not like Shane hasn't seen it already but he is giving him some dignity.
He trusts in Daryl's confidence, his stubbornness, in dressing on his own and relies on his ears to track the other's movements. His steps are quiet, too quiet given the circumstances, and he is amazed to find that the only sounds he makes is the occasional wince or grunt. Shane listens to the rustle of clothes and a curse is what causes him to look back up. Daryl tenses up like a deer caught in a spotlight, one hand holding himself up by the footboard and the other clutching a pair of boxers over his groin. His cheeks are flushed, either from frustration or embarrassment, Shane doesn't know.
Time seems to freeze as they stare at one another.
"You, uh, need a hand?" the older man inquires with an arched eyebrow.
He hates to ask, more for Daryl's benefit than his own, but it will be his hide if he hurts himself further after he told Hershel that he'd stay with him. Seeing the uncertainty in his eyes and the unconscious twitches of his face as he thinks about it, Shane ultimately makes the decision for him, figuring that the lack of an immediate dismissal is good enough. He stands for the first time that morning, stretching and popping his back as he takes the two steps to close the distance between them. As expected, Daryl flinches and clenches his fist tighter in the material of the boxers. Shane interrupts him as he begins to protest.
"Look, I know that you don't really want my help. I'm sure that once you're back to full health, you'll kick my ass for this. But I'm not going to let you hurt yourself while you're putting on some damned underwear. Won't that be the more embarrassing scenario? And the old man will skin both of us alive and extend your bed rest. Let me do this and nobody has to know. Just trust me."
Daryl makes no attempt to stop him from taking the boxers and kneeling before him, studiously keeping his eyes avoided as he unravels them and instructs the other to place his hands on his shoulders and step through the leg holes. Daryl does so slowly and shakily, supporting most of his weight on Shane as he does so. The entire process is clinical and by the time Daryl is sat on the bed so that Shane can slip on some socks and boots, he is visibly more relaxed. The belt is a bit more tricky but it and the shirt ultimately go on without a hitch. In the end, Shane steps back to allow Daryl to stand again on his own.
The other man dos so with his arms held out to steady himself, a win in Shane's eyes. At a snail's pace they trudge to the door and he takes charge by opening it, allowing Daryl entry into the house beyond. Activity slows to a near halt, their presence drawing the immediate attention of Beth and Jimmy. Hershel spares them a glance from his position at the dining room table, gently closing the book he had been reading and sliding it to the side. The words 'The Once and Future King' stand out boldly from the well-worn cover.
Beth is the first to move, quick and precise in gathering up some items to present to the pair, stopping before them and holding out two glasses of apple juice.
"Hi, my name's Beth and that's Jimmy." she says to Daryl, "Daddy told me that you were on a liquid diet...I didn't know what you might want, we're kind of limited on our choices until my sister, Maggie, goes out on a run."
Shane takes the offered beverage gratefully, just really noticing the hunger pains in his stomach. Daryl takes his just after with a minute "Thanks."
"We've got some fresh milk, tea or coffee, broth, and the makings for gruel. Any of that sound good to you?"
"What the f---what is gruel?" Shane asks before Daryl can answer, brushing Hershel's stink eye off at nearly dropping the f-bomb in front of his youngest.
Beth just laughs at him, "It's pretty much like warm cereal. Other meals can be used but right now, all we've got is oatmeal. You boil it in milk or water."
Shane meets Daryl's eyes, "What do you say, man? Any of that sound good to you?"
The redneck nods. Shane and Beth wait for him to elaborate but when he doesn't, the young blonde takes the reigns.
"I'll whip you up some gruel." she decides, spurring Jimmy into action alongside her in the large kitchen, "How about you, Shane? We've still got leftovers from breakfast."
As wonderful as a home-cooked farm breakfast sounds, especially since he could smell it being cooked from the other room, Shane declines.
"I'll just have what he's having." he tells her and then to Daryl, "Want to sit down?"
The other man nods and the two join Hershel at the table while their breakfast is made.
"Now, just because you are going outside it doesn't mean you can go and do anything stupid." Hershel reminds them, "No running, no climbing, and no lifting."
"Yes, sir." Daryl answers politely, staring at the table.
Jimmy offers them more to drink, to which Shane requests coffee and Daryl simply wants water. Within minutes their breakfast is sat before them and Shane is not surprised at how gross it is, even with the barest hint of sugar. Really, though, with a name like gruel, he hadn't expected much. Daryl doesn't seem to mind the slop, this time pacing himself with small bites and a slow speed. Even so, he finishes when Shane is about halfway through his own and waits patiently for the other man to finish as well.
Hershel goes back to reading and Beth and Jimmy gather their dishes to be cleaned. Shane helps Daryl out of the chair to resume their trek outside. The morning Georgian sun is already making things hot and both men shield their eyes when they step out onto the porch. The camp and farm is alive with movement, some members of the group helping out eagerly with the chores requires for the farm's upkeep. Not that Shane has any experience with that kind of stuff.
They ease their way down the wooden steps, quickly grabbing the attention of the others. Rick is with T-Dogg, taking a break from pouring over the map of the area to watch them with rapt eyes, and Lori and Carl are looking up from feeding the chickens with Patricia. Glenn stands off to the side with Maggie, a basket brimming with vegetables between them, and Andrea is with Dale on top of the camper, their attention also drawn to the newly-emerged pair. Carol is in the shade of the trees, hanging laundry and peeking at them from in between clothes.
Shane suddenly feels like a teenager again, standing before an audience at his first high school football game. Oh, well, he will just have to take it now like he did then. Minus the goat and the knowledge of Fred Lockaby's plans of streaking during halftime. But, boy, did Freddy take the edge off.
Carol is the first that they come across and Shane figures that now will be as good of a time as any to introduce Daryl to everyone.
"Daryl, this is Carol. Carol, Daryl."
Carol smiles weakly, silent, and Daryl greets her with a quiet, "Ma'am."
When nothing more is exchanged, Shane starts to lead them away until a meek voice stops them, "Did you..."
They stop to regard her and Shane knows what she is going to say before she opens her mouth again.
"When you were out there, did you see a little girl? This tall," Carol gestures a height with a thin hand, "blonde hair?"
She sounds so hopeful, eyes already sparkling with unshed tears. She is trying to hard to keep it together and Shane feels for her, he really does, which is why he doesn't repeat his opinion on the matter. Daryl has an unreadable expression on his face, staring at the distraught mother with an odd look. The air between them is thick and silent and Shane wonders if he will answer at all. He does, though, and his answer is as predictable as the question.
"No, ma'am. Sorry."
A sob escapes Carol's lips and both men bow their heads but Shane ultimately leads Daryl away, explaining quietly once they are far enough away, "She lost her daughter four days ago in the woods. It's why we're here, it's how I found you. I hate saying it but I know there's no way that girl is still alive out there. Rick just won't give up this farce."
He knows that some of his pent-up frustration bleeds out into the conversation but really he can't help it.
"Why?"
Shane makes a wild gesture with his hands, "Exactly! I don't know what he's thinking---"
"No."
Shane stops mid-rant as Daryl continues.
"Why do you think she's dead?"
"Aw, man, not you too. Hold up a sec." Shane pauses their conversation when they come up to Andrea and Dale on the RV, "Guys, Daryl. Daryl, Andrea and Dale."
Pleasantries are exchanged, though Andrea is a tad wary of the newcomer.
Dale is the one who engages him, "So how are you feeling? Better, I hope?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good." Dale smiles, the entire interaction taking only a handful of minutes, and the pair are on their way again.
"Told you before that I was a policeman." Shane continues their conversation as if it never stopped, "Before all this started, we had forty-eight hours to find a missing person alive and after that you were looking for a body. There's no way that girl's still out there."
"That's nothing. I got lost when I was little, barely a brat. Was gone for ten days before I found my own way home."
Shane is shocked by the admission, he wants him to elaborate, but the conversation is held off once again as they approach Rick and T-Dogg.
"Hey, brother, how's it going?"
"It's going. Good morning, Daryl." Rick replies, smiling at the newcomer, "Glad to see you're doing better."
"Thank you."
"Daryl, you know Rick. This is T-Dogg."
"Hey, man."
"Hello."
Leaving the two to their own introductions, Rick grabs Shane's attention.
"T-Dogg says he's feeling up for helping out today. Figured he and I can pick up where you and I left off before we found Daryl and you can stay here to help out." he informs him and Shane nods, fine with the decision.
After all, at least here with Daryl, he isn't wasting his time out there.
"Sounds good. We're just chilling around this morning, making introductions. Daryl's wanting to stretch his legs."
"Did Hershel say it was okay for him to be out?" Rick questions, oblivious to Daryl's stiffening posture.
Shane notices it, though, and comes to the other man's defense a little too quickly, "Of course he did, I didn't sneak him outside just to waltz."
Fortunately, Rick mistakes his sarcasm for playful banter and he smiles brightly.
"Just don't dance too hard. Hershel will have both of your heads." he chuckles and just like that, gets back to work.
Shane bites his tongue, leading Daryl away and out of earshot before letting loose.
"Who the hell does he think he is, thinking I'm going to let anything happen to you? As if I've not every one of our people safe before he came along."
In his ranting, he doesn't realize that Daryl is struggling with his pace until the other lets out a restrained whimper. He comes to an immediate halt, anger forgotten, and takes in his pained expression. Sighing in frustration with himself, he rubs a hand over his buzzed scalp and allows Daryl to regain his composure. Great. He just did what he got pissed at Rick for insinuating he'd do.
"Fuck, man, I'm sorry."
Daryl, with his skin glistening with sweat not from the heat, waves him off even though he looks like he wants to curl in on himself, "It's fine."
"No." Shane snaps, "It's not. Come on, let's sit. Or something."
He isn't sure where Daryl is hurting but he has an idea and the thought makes him cringe. Is it even okay for him to sit? Hell, is it even comfortable? Shane leads Daryl over to the circle of fold-up chairs, slower this time, and helps him ease down into one, taking the other beside him. He can't ignore the way Daryl sits, tense and crooked, leaning to the side.
Jesus, he feels even worse.
But before he can apologize again, Daryl surprises him by speaking first.
"So, Rick." he winces, "He just showed up and took over?"
A change of subject. A distraction.
Shane bites, "Might as well tell it from the beginning. I've known Rick...God, I've known Rick for as long as I can remember. Lori, almost as long."
He has to clarify at the questioning tilt of Daryl's head.
"That's his wife. We all grew up together over in King County. They started dating in elementary school, if that even counts. Can't say I wasn't jealous of them. Somewhere around the middle school, high school area we had it in our minds that we wanted to be cops.
Go in together, be partners, take out the bad guys: every little boys' dream. Wish we'd known it wouldn't be that easy. Anyway, we all graduated high school and Rick and I went off to the Police Academy over in Atlanta. After we graduated from there, Rick asked Lori to marry him. Their wedding was pretty fun...I tell you what, seeing Rick drink and try to dance is something to behold and Lori...man, she was something else entirely.
But not long after that, Rick and I were hired in to the King County Sheriff's Department. We were stoked. Of course, we weren't partners starting out. We were two newbies, fresh meat, and had to work our way up the totem pole. It was tough, the rest of the guys didn't go easy on us, but in no time we were one of them.
Things were good, there for a while. Carl was born, I was his honorary godfather, and we barbecued about every weekend. Then Rick got promoted. I wasn't jealous, or anything. Hell, I was happy for him.
But a new job meant more work, more work meant less time at home. Him and Lori started having problems and I was right there in the middle of it. Lori would talk to me about him, he would talk to me about her, and poor Carl would talk to me about both of them. Hell, the last day Rick and I worked together, he was venting to me. Then he got shot.
It was so bogus, man. Dispatch told us there were two suspects but there was a third. He took Rick down and we took him down. I had to be the one to tell Lori that her husband was shot, that he was in a coma and might not wake up. We didn't know if he was going to make it but we never gave up hope.
Nuh-uh, not until the dead started rising and the military came in and started gunning everyone down. I was there with Rick, in the hospital, when all hell broke loose. Hid in his room and they didn't bother him. They probably thought he was dead. I'd never been so scared in my life."
Daryl is watching him intensely, listening to the story without interrupting.
Shane goes on, "And then, it was like a sign: the electricity went out and Rick's machines went out and...and...man, I checked him. I couldn't feel his breath, I couldn't feel his fucking heart. But I could still hear the gunshots and figured it was only a matter of time before those fuckers found me and gunned me down. So, I made a call; I had to make sure Lori and Carl were safe. I left Rick in his room, blocked the door so once the shitstorm blew over then we'd at least have an intact body to bury.
I left and got Lori and Carl and we went to Atlanta but they bombed it before we could get in. Thank God. So a few of us packed up and went over to the old Bellwood Quarry to wait it out there. I was the only authority figure there so I just kind of fell into the role of leader. Didn't ask for it, it just happened.
Kept everyone safe, including Lori and Carl. It was tough, you know, but we made it work. I made it work. Eventually it was just like an extended camping trip. And then, wouldn't you know it: not even a month after we get there, Rick comes rolling in with a small group we'd sent into Atlanta for supplies."
"It was like seeing a ghost."
Lori's voice surprises both men as she enters the circle from behind them and Shane has to wonder how long she'd been listening, if she was waiting on Shane to confess their affair to this stranger.
"Daryl, this is Lori and Carl." the ex-cop introduces the mother and child, who take nearby chairs.
"I thought he was a walker, at first." Carl confesses and Shane refrains from reaching out to comfort him.
"Hello, Daryl. Glad you're well...you gave us all quite a scare." Lori greets, slipping a stray strand of dark hair behind an ear and then says to Carl, "Say hello."
"Hello." the boy says quietly, the polite smile not quite reaching his eyes.
Shane can't blame him; the kid loses his best friend and then nearly loses his life in a disturbingly similar way that his father had.
He is still a bit pale.
"Hello Lori, Carl." Daryl greets them back, not looking at them for very long.
"Been helping out around the farm this morning." Lori throws out after a bit, trying to engage the now-silent pair into a conversation.
"I got to feed the chickens." Carl tells them, only slightly more enthused than his greeting.
"Hey, but, that's good. Fattening them up for us to eat?" Shane jokes and immediately the mood is lifted.
That is, until Glenn's anxious voice declares from the side, "Guys...the barn's full of walkers."