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The CDC is long behind them, they’ve been driving for God knows how long and right now, just like the rest of the group, Daryl is bone tired. It’s not just the need for sleep that’s weighing down on him; it’s the need for rest, a real rest. His body needs to recover from the shock of the day, from the rush of adrenaline and fear that had coursed through him and he could see the same look in everyone else. So when his old truck finally gives up the ghost after so many years, the caravan of vehicles they have pulls over beside some old run down gas station on the road.
He’s already got the hood up and is trying to wipe the tiredness from his eyes and see what the hell the problem was with it this time. The old girl wasn’t exactly in the best condition, but she worked well enough and sometimes she was just stubborn as hell. Right now though his eyes can’t pick out anything, he can feel his body flagging and he just doesn’t care. Exhaustion is beginning to take over and he hates that though he has the will to continue, his body just doesn’t have the energy.
Footsteps head his way and there’s a quiet shuffle of movement around him, bodies moving about, stretching their legs from being cooped up for too long and trying to get the kinks out of their bodies. “Leave it for tonight man.” Peering up he finds Shane beside him, running his fingers through his hair but looking just as shattered as he feels.
“I can sort it if we need to keep going.” He mumbles in reply, not willing to be the one that stalls them, all they needed was one excuse and they’d cast him aside, kick him to the curb like some unwanted mongrel. “Just need a few minutes is all.”
“Nah man, what you need is a few hours rest, just like the rest of us.” Shane replies and when the cop places a hand on his shoulder, Daryl only flinches on instinct, barely conscious of the movement himself. Shane’s fingers squeeze a little, not painfully, but what he supposes is meant to be reassuring as everyone begins shifting around in the RV to make room for the night. “Come on, leave it.”
And he must really be fucking tired if he takes the cop’s advice and gives up, walking away from his truck to join the rest of the group around a newly lit campfire. Slumping to the ground he leans against the wall of the old run down building, giving a small groan as his entire body feels like one big ache. The rest of the group are joining them, the kids rubbing at their eyes and cuddling into their mothers’ arms for comfort as they begin to doze. Daryl can’t blame them, but he knows they have to get some food inside of everyone, even if they ain’t got much at all.
A couple of cans of vegetables are hunted out along with a pack of beef jerky, it ain’t much but it was better to keep a steady amount of energy than to let yourself run on empty. He takes his share but honestly trying to co-ordinate the hand to mouth action feels like too much for his brain to handle right now and he’s surprised he doesn’t end up wearing his rations instead of eating them. There is no conversation tonight, there’s too much that everyone wants to say but it’s all the same questions and words, so why bother opening your mouth?
It’s a sense of hopelessness that washes over them all right now and Daryl hasn’t got the strength to call them all pussies and sneering at them for giving up. They’re all just tired, maybe tomorrow would be better and give them more of a sense of what to do. Watching their small fire burn through the kindling he lets his crossbow sit in his lap, the weight familiar and at least he’s got one thing he can rely on through all of this. The people around him? Not so much.
Still they’ve not gotten rid of him yet and he supposes that’s a good sign. Glenn yawns beside him and it’s contagious, passing around their small circle until he’s squeezing his eyes shut and trying to fight it. Of course he can’t and really when he thinks of opening his eyes again it all seems too much effort. So he doesn’t bother, instead he leans back against the wall, letting his body slump as he rests there for a moment, uncaring of anything else in the world.
There’s a murmur of conversation around him, people talking about a plan for tomorrow, someone tosses up the idea of Fort Benning again and there’s a murmur of agreement, but Daryl can’t be bothered to speak up. He’d follow anyway, look for safety and answers and being in a group was safer. Keeping his eyes closed he lets them discuss plans, talk about switching out his truck for the bike, siphoning fuel and rations from places on the way. Daryl knows he should probably give some input, but he doesn’t care, speaking is too much effort and even when his body begins to list to the side he doesn’t struggle to fight it.
He ends up leaning against something warm, and he lets his head loll to the side, resting on whatever it is as he listens to the chatter of everyone. It’s not until a rumble of noise echoes through his ear that he realises he’s leaning on a person and it’s only when he recognises the rhythm of the vibration that he realises he’s leaning on Shane. It’s a testament to his exhaustion when he doesn’t shift away.
Honestly it’s not the most comfortable place in the world, but it’s warm, it’s stable here and it’s not exactly a bad place to fall asleep. Not that he’s asleep; he’s just resting his eyes a little. The voices around him lower, they’re all whispering now and he figures maybe the kids have fallen asleep or something. Still his pillow doesn’t pull away and he’s grateful for that.
When a gentle weight rests on the top of his head he hums a little in question, still not pulling away, unwilling to give up his semi-comfortable resting spot for the moment. His muscles are all aching, his back is killing him and right now he just doesn’t want to move. So when someone hushes him he stays where he is, figuring whatever is leaning on him can’t be life threatening at the moment and honestly even if it was he doesn’t know if he’d move.
He doesn’t figure out that Shane is leaning on him in return until muttered whisperings of plans for tomorrow are spoken into his hair. Really he should pull back, he should be annoyed or angry or something that he’s behaving like this in front of everyone, but really right now, when all he wanted to do was collapse, he didn’t care. For all he cared Shane could use him as a fucking blanket, so long as he stayed where he was and let him fucking rest. There’s more murmuring, some shuffling about and fuck he’s about ready to stab someone if they don’t shut the hell up soon and let him sleep.
“Daryl?” God he’s never hated his own name more.
“Wha’?” He mumbles in reply, refusing to give in and open his eyes if he didn’t have to. There was nothing to see out there anyway, nothing but walkers and darkness.
“Everyone else is heading to bed, why don’t you go get some rest whilst Shane and I keep planning?”
“’s good.” He shrugs, holding his bow a little tighter and allowing himself to rest more of his weight against the warmth at his side. “’m ‘kay here.” There’s a small chuckle against the top of his head and he wonders what the hell is so funny right now. Still, he wasn’t going to open his eyes and find out. “’m stay here.” He nods to himself, or he thinks he does, either way he shifts a little closer and can feel Shane’s shoulder against his cheek. It’s nice, it’s enough.
He doesn’t think his body would move anyway, not right now, not when he’s warm and got a comfy pillow to lean on and no one’s complaining. Besides, these idiots needed someone watching their backs whilst they made plans, even if his eyes were still closed. No one shoves him or gets him to move, so he figures he’s won their little war. When Shane leans back against him and continues their hushed planning session, Daryl figures he’s not being too much of a problem and maybe they were just grateful to have someone as useful as him around at the end of the world.