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Daryl looked across the blood stained floor, over the corpses Rick had left loose-limbed and gaping to where the man's feet splayed behind the wall. Hands too bloody to do the deed, Daryl rubbed his cheek on his shoulder and took a tentative step closer.
"Careful," Glenn whispered, "he almost attacked me earlier."
"Yeah, saw that bruise on your neck," Daryl whispered back. "Why don't you go hang out with Carl, tell 'im I'll be with his dad fer a bit. Alone."
"Alright. At least you're better than me at dodging a punch. Good luck." Glenn tapped Daryl on the shoulder and turned to leave.
Daryl waited until Glenn had closed the big steel door behind him before he padded over the bodies, peeking around the corner to see Rick. He was sitting in the intersection of two walls, slumped with a phone dangling from its cord by his ear. He was staring blankly.
Nobody home.
Daryl shifted, thinking over what to say. Would words even help now? Empty platitudes weren't worth shit, not for men like them, not for the type that terminally blamed themselves.
Rick's stillness was becoming unnerving, so Daryl stepped carefully over the man's legs, crouching and leaning in closer. He stared, waiting for a blink, anything. He waved his hand over the man's vision.
It almost seemed like Rick's lips were moving, but he couldn't tell, and his eyes traced the face of the man Rick had become in the last few hours. It only took a few layers of sweat, blood and grime to make someone look crazy, even he had to admit that much.
Bending there seemed even more awkward than standing, so Daryl lowered himself to the concrete, sitting with his back to the wall just like Rick. He nudged their shoulders together slightly.
"Hey, Rick. You think you can try'n wake up?" he asked, using low tones to not startle him.
Rick stared, confused for a moment. Then amazingly his eyes turned and settled on Daryl, staring at him like Daryl was some otherworldly being. Daryl resisted the urge to lean back, when Rick stayed frozen like that. He swallowed.
"She told me I can't die yet," Rick said numbly, and Daryl felt a shiver run down his spine.
The man was cracking. "Um...ok..." what should he say? What would Glenn do, but wait, Glenn fucked up...Rick went back to staring at the far wall, same as before, and Daryl ran over his options.
His neighbor had died of an OD one time, and Daryl had found the old man's dog shivering in the house afterwards, terrified. He'd managed to coax the thing. Words hadn't worked, and he sure as hell wasn't going to mumble a bunch of creepy crap to the man, so what'd that leave, a hug?
A hug. Shit.
Just go for it Dixon. The man's wife just had a baby ripped out of her stomach, it's what Glenn would do. It's what T-Dog would do.
So Daryl did it.
Slowly, to avoid getting a knee-jerk elbow to his face, he draped his arm over Rick's back and pulled him closer, and Rick didn't put a fight, when Daryl pulled Rick's head down to his shoulders.
For a moment he held it like that, realized he was probably shaking more than Rick was, Christ was this out of his comfort zone, but he almost instantly knew it was worth it when Rick hugged him back, arms pulling him tight.
A strangled noise escaped Rick's throat, and then the man was clinging even tighter, too tight, and Daryl gasped when Rick practically squeezed the air out of his lungs.
"I can't..." Rick choked.
Rick was shaking now, some sort of odd dry sobbing that was somehow filled with anger, fingernails digging painfully into Daryl's back. Daryl almost felt like Rick was trying to hurt him, like he had Glenn, but he forced himself to stay stoic and bear it, rubbing the man's back like Lori always used to. Rick's grip was going to leave bruises, deep ones.
Finally Rick's grip started to loosen, shaking and choking more audibly. Rick gripped Daryl's shoulders and held him firmly in front of him. Rick shook his head like he was trying to compose himself, face wet. "Is it my fault?" he asked, confused, and it felt like a punch to the gut when those blue eyes met his straight on, child-like in their honest confusion.
"No! No, it ain't, it ain't your fault," Daryl blurted adamantly. "You can't predict every outcome, life gets random. We're all doing the best we can in the dark."
Rick nodded, and then tears started to build in his eyes again, and Daryl had a real honest impulse to pull him into a hug.
This time Rick didn't squeeze too hard, his firm grip warm and gentle. Daryl rubbed his back again, and Rick put his head back in the crook of Daryl's neck. his stubble rubbing against Rick's neck. And Daryl didn't even know what he was doing anymore when he realized they were clinging to each other, taking in the smell of blood and sweat. It just felt so fucking good to hold someone, even if that person were apeshit crazy, because everything that had happened was burning away his insides too just the same.