dadyl | 𝙿𝙴𝙽𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝙸𝙽𝙱𝙾𝚇 ;

[ The tears keep coming from Gabe and Daryl has to find a way to help. If he can't help, if he's useless when he's needed, then what good is he? Why does he deserve to have people to rely on if they can't rely on him? He doesn't. It's the answer that's always there, waiting to be acknowledged. Waiting to remind him whenever he ends up empty-handed like he is now. He doesn't deserve any of this - the trust, the contact.

Gabe nuzzles against Daryl like he's trying to crawl inside of him headfirst and Daryl kisses his wet cheekbone. Then his closed eyelid. ]

We'll try. Together.

[ Some people are lost causes. Too far gone to save, to talk back from beyond the edge. He's met dozens and dozens of them. People who couldn't see past death or madness or something Daryl wasn't prepared to try to understand.

Gabe isn't one of those people. There's so much gentleness left in him and Daryl is adamant - it's going to be kept alive. ]

I ain't gonna leave you behind.

[ Not like the world had. Not like their brothers had. Not like their mothers had. ]

If I got any choice. I'm stayin' with you. Got it?

[ He can feel tears pooling behind his prosthetics. Making a mess. Gabe sniffs, clinging to Daryl, and it just -

Echos. All this shit, all this history dredged up to the light. Hell really outdid itself this time, he thinks dully. But through it, Daryl holds him. It’s gentle, despite everything.

I ain't gonna leave you behind.

Gabe goes very still. For a moment, he barely breathes. ]

I, hah -

[ Shit. ]

I believe you.

[ It comes out small, and rough. But true. ]

[ Daryl lets go of Gabe's face very carefully so he can fold his arms around his waist and support the other's weight in a hug. Daryl is solid, it's another way he can help, he thinks, and he guides Gabe's head to his shoulder with one hand.

He's got him. But he still wants to give Gabe a way to disappear into his tears if he needs to. ]

Good.

[ It's all Daryl can offer him but he's glad he could do it. He can only deal with one crisis at a time, he can only take care of the people immediately around him and right now that means Carol and Gabe. They're all he can let himself focus on, not the life out of reach back home. They'll find a way back together and if they don't... he needs to find a way to keep his purpose. Daryl can't let himself disappear. Not like he had after Rick.

And still, all they can do is wait it out. Survive. Daryl clings to the hug like it's a lifeline because while locked in this fucking room, it is. At least the screen has gone quiet for the moment. Daryl feels an almost unstoppable urge to put his foot through the fucking thing. ]

You better.

[ He clears his throat to keep his voice from cracking more than once. He presses his chin and cheek to Gabe's head and tries to get his own breathing to settle. ]

I won't let you fall.

[ It’s rare for anyone to hold him. Even rarer for Gabe to allow it for any amount of time. But Daryl’s solid and warm, a ballast to everything that’s thundering it’s way through Gabe’s mind. The memories dredged into the open. All that hurt he thought had scarred over years ago.

He closes his eyes, slowing his breathing down so he won’t completely lose the thread.

Breathe, sniper. Survive this.

He holds tight to Daryl for what feels like a long time. And then, quite abruptly, the door clicks open.

Gabe draws back just enough to wipe at his face. ]

Shit. Guess that did it.

[ He hesitates a moment, then leans forward and presses his forehead to Daryl’s. ]

Thank you.

[ Daryl's head snaps around on his neck when he hears the door open, the simple sound such an incredible relief that he actually says a silent prayer of thanks to anything that might be paying attention. Whatever the fuck this place wanted from them, it seems to have gotten it. Hell certainly knows how to read them by now. It knows the sort of pain they can't just take like soldiers.

And it's going to linger again. He can tell right away.

Gabe is suddenly wiping at his face and Daryl wants to help him but refrains. He'd want to handle that himself in Gabe's place, too. He doesn't let go of him though and when Gabe presses their foreheads together, Daryl nods in answer. ]

Any time.

[ This place isn't going to win. He'll be the rock he has to be because it's the only thing that makes him feel steady. It's the only thing that keeps him strong. ]

C'mon. Before they change their minds, huh?

[ Gabe huffs a little, sniffing. He can feel tears pooling up behind his prosthetics. He'll need to take his eyes out, drain the sockets. A mess, compounding all of this shit. But what can you do, really?

What a mess. What a goddamn mess.

He reaches up to touch Daryl's face for a moment, smoothing his thumb along the line of Daryl's cheek. Gentle, always.

Always. ]

Let's get the fuck out of here.

[ Daryl had never seen Gabe cry like this. He'd felt it, certainly, when Gabe had tried to start a fight with him and had ended up completely deflating against him. He'd felt those tears, had done his best to stop them then.

But these tears have nothing to do with Daryl. He doesn't have the power to fix what's wrong this time.

So he let's Gabe touch his face. He let's Gabe guide the moment, decide when they're done. Daryl doesn't want to draw away but they need to get out, to get beyond that fucking door before they're punished again. But he won't rush him.

Daryl angles his chin up a little and kisses him, chaste, on the forehead. Something Carol used to do for him when he needed reassurance. Something he wants to provide now. ]

You tell me where. An' we'll go.

[ He reaches up to thread his fingers with the hand Gabe is holding to his face, bringing it down between them so he can guide Gabe out of the room. Daryl keeps the connection, too stubbornly protective to let him go. ]

[ It's a small gesture, on balance. A kiss pressed to his forehead. Light, and chaste. But it hits in a way that Gabe wasn't ready for and he lingers there for a moment, blinking rapidly.

His skull aches, tears pooled up behind his prosthetics. It's going to a mess later, unless he deals with it. But he lingers for a moment, breathing out slow as Daryl holds him.

Okay. Reluctantly he pulls back, squeezing Daryl's arm. ]

My room. Need to deal with my eyes.

[ Daryl has to resist the urge to kick the door on their way past it but somehow he does, lest they get pulled into more bullshit somehow because of him. He keeps holding onto Gabe's hand and heads in the direction of his own room, just assuming that they've all been stuck in the same place.

Why wouldn't they be? If they're all just fish in a barrel here then it makes sense to keep them all grouped together. Close. ]

What's wrong with 'em? Your eyes?

[ He asks it quietly, stroking the back of Gabe's hand with his thumb. He's wondering if it's one of the glitches he doesn't understand or if it's something else entirely. ]

[ He waits until they're out in the hallway before he lets himself truly breathe. It's fine. They're okay. Today it's a bad moment and tomorrow it'll be a memory. Day after that, they can both carry it in their own ways. That's the way, he thinks silently. That's how you survive.

But he squeezes Daryl's hand. Another one of those small gestures. ]

's fine.

[ He exhales again. ]

Just got tears stuck behind the prosthetics. I don't cry right anymore. It makes a mess.

[ Somehow that hurts to hear - that even crying is worse than normal for Gabe. Daryl squeezes his hand back, tugging it close to his side so the distance between them shrinks. He's feeling protective. It's an instinct that's probably going to last. ]

You want me to drop you off an' go get us somethin'?

[ Something to eat or something to drink. Maybe even something to smoke or pop. Preferably something that will take the edge off of the pasts they were just thrust back into. ]

Unless... you need my help?

[ The tone in his voice is evident - whatever he needs, Daryl will take care of it. He wants to help. ]

Edited 2021-11-23 04:04 (UTC)

[ It is what it is. After he first got fucked up, Thomas had thought there was a chance Gabe could get some sight back. That he'd be able to see shadow and light, at least. Something. Maybe enough to augment with tech. Getting his eyes removed was a distant, horrifying thought. Only then the infections kept coming, one after another, and each time Gabe got sicker and weaker. And then Thomas sat him down and told him what had to be done, otherwise he'd die.

And he couldn't do that to his people. Not when they needed him to watch their backs. So he laid down and he let a surgeon come and carve his eyes out of his skull. Wasn't like they were doing him much good at that point.

He rubs at his face with a sigh. Daryl's sticking close.

That helps. ]

Need some saline. I can make it, if you get me salt and clean water.

[ He huffs a little, cracking a faint smile. ]

And alcohol. Because fuck doing this shit sober.

You got it.

[ That shadow of a smile isn't nothing. Not quite something, not yet, but Daryl watches it come and go on Gabe's face with a twinge of relief.

Before getting to Hell, Daryl hadn't touched anything harder than a cigarette in a long, long time. Here, it's just part of the deal he's accepted. He'll put up with being tortured and killed and being forced to watch the people he cares about get hurt. Over and over and over. He doesn't exactly have any other choice.

But then he'll have a goddamn drink about it. ]

Which one's yours?

[ They've reached the long, luxury hallway lined with doors, behind one of which Daryl has been forced to stay (or at least leave his things). Carol is in the one next to him. But that's as much as Daryl knows. ]

[ Gabe toggles his tech, scanning the area to orient himself. He's usually better than this, able to orient himself automatically, but sometimes he gets thrown and lost. And then, sometimes, it takes him a moment to center himself and put everything in context. ]

I'm on the floor below.

[ Shit. He exhales. ]

Your place around here? Rather not walk around longer than I have to.

Fuck, sorry.

[ He hadn't asked and he should have, obviously. Daryl's sense of direction, even in buildings, is always good. He just hadn't been thinking clearly. He feels scrambled, drained and a little tender.

So he's happy to agree that whichever door is closest is best. ]

Yeah. 'Course, c'mon.

[ He still hasn't let go of Gabe's hand, despite being in public again, and he holds it while he leads him to the door and digs his key out of the pocket of his stupid suit jacket. Probably purely ceremonial, the keys they'd been given, but he'll pretend the locks hold some real protection for now. He has no other choice.

Inside it's far too nice for Daryl's taste and the bed has only been slept on, not in. He lets go of Gabe once the door clicks closed behind him and instead guides him further inside with a palm on the small of his back. ]

How much salt you need?

[ There aren't many people that Gabe will let close enough to guide him, let alone out in the open where anyone could see. But it's still the aftermath and he's feeling scraped raw, the wounds ripped open to bleed anew. All that shit dredged up to the surface when it ought to be buried deep.

He doesn't shy away from Daryl, not even when they're inside. The closeness -

Helps, he thinks. Fuck. He didn't plan that. He didn't plan for any of this. Gabe exhales and prods at his eyes, wincing when he feels the heat rising against his fingers. Already swollen. That's fun. ]

Not much. Half a teaspoon. And two cups.

[ He taps at his eyes. ]

Need something to put these in.

[ Oh. Somehow Daryl had never considered that they would have to come out. He doesn't let that trip him up and instead just wishes that these stupid rooms came with little attached kitchens like the ones back at the hotel. At least then he wouldn't have to leave Gabe just for supplies.

But the booze. Well, that might be worth it. ]

Got it.

[ He guides Gabe over to the bed so he can sit if he wants, checks that nothing is out of place since the last time he'd been in the room (the paranoia isn't ever going to leave him), and then turns to go.

But then just as quickly he turns back, steps in close and angles his face down to kiss him. Full on the mouth, gentle but surprisingly assertive. An I'm coming back kiss. ]

Gimme ten minutes.

[ He's already mapping his route out in his head, based on the parts of the mansion that he remembers. As soon as Gabe agrees it's okay, he'll be gone. ]

[ It shouldn't surprise him. They've kissed before. Fucked enough times they've gotten good at it. By right, it should just be a gesture. Something that people do sometimes, that Gabe's done plenty over the years. But it staggers him, somehow, when Daryl just turns around and kisses him on the mouth like a promise.

Gabe blinks several times. Goddamn. ]

Okay.

[ After a moment, he sits his ass down on the bed. It feels more than a little like getting punched in the head. That sudden moment in the aftermath where nothing hurts and there are no thoughts at all. That comes later, once you get your breath back.

He breathes out. The moment passes. And he pulls out a square of origami paper and begins to work. Mountain fold, then valley fold. And on, and on, until Daryl comes back and Gabe's finishing the final creases. He hums to himself, then offers out the little origami dog to him. ]

For you.

[ It takes him eight and a half of the ten minutes. Dining room for the salt, kitchens for a stack of clean cups and Daryl makes another stop at a bar he'd seen in one of the lounges before heading back upstairs. He even jogs a little on the way back, conscious of every minute he's gone.

He closes the bedroom door again with his shoulder and is about to head to the on-suite bathroom to fill one of the cups with water when he sees Gabe holding something out to him. Paper.

A dog.

He remembers the night Gabe had found him and walked him out of the crowds that had gathered to see the whippings. He remembers how frozen he'd been, how numb he was to everything Gabe had said to him. At least until the little papers had come out and it had given Daryl something else to focus on. Something to watch.

And he remembers what Gabe told him about why he'd picked it up. The sort of times that he relies on it. It makes Daryl's chest ache a little. ]

Thanks.

[ Daryl sets the sealed bottle of booze down on the bed beside Gabe and takes the little folded piece gingerly. It seems like Gabe remembered something about Daryl, too. ]

Lemme just... hang on, an' I'll get you some water.

[ Daryl sets the dog carefully, upright, on the table beside his bed, then disappears into the bathroom for a few seconds. When he comes back he sits down beside Gabe on the bed. ]

Here.

[ Gabe hums a little, breathing out. After a moment, he takes the cup and holds it gingerly in both hands. He doesn't usually have an audience for the next part. It's messy. Embarrassing, more than anything. His prosthetics are well made, advanced enough that he can usually sleep in them so long as he remembers to flush them out periodically. So long as he doesn't start crying, anyway.

Then it gets messy. And he has to deal with it. ]

I have to take the prosthetics out. And then drain the -

[ He gestures vaguely at his eyes. ]

It's messy. You don't have to stay for that.

[ Daryl is truly impossible to gross-out. He's done absolutely foul things to survive and to help others and this certainly wouldn't bother him in the least. But it isn't his own comfort level that's really at issue. ]

'm here if you need help.

[ He offers it softly, nudging Gabe's knee a little with his own. Just to prove he's there. ]

But if you want me to, I'll leave.

[ Gabe smoothes his thumb along the rim of the cup. Then he breathes out. Okay. ]

Can you get me a towel?

[ So he's not leaving, then. Good. Daryl doesn't want Gabe to be alone right now, even if he of all people deeply understands the appeal of privacy.

When he's asked for a towel he just gets up silently and heads back to the bathroom, returning with a big one for the bath and a smaller one that's the size of a hand towel. He wasn't sure which one Gabe wanted. ]

Big or small?

[ Would've been simpler just to head to the bathroom himself. Gabe doesn't say anything for a moment, tracing his thumb over the rim of the glass yet again. Stalling.

He always does this part alone. And yet -

Hah.

He stands silently, exhaling. ]

Big. I'm gonna mix the saline, then take my eyes out. Drain this shit. It'll be messy, but it won't take that long. Where's the sink?

In here.

[ He doesn't take Gabe by the arm or anything presumptuous like that, just sticks close enough to bump elbows with him while Gabe stands and they head back towards the bathroom together.

It's somehow warm in there despite all the tile and Daryl points Gabe once they're inside the door towards the big sink set in its marble countertop. He sets down the other cup and the full salt shaker beside the other stacked and folded hand towels. Everything hard clinks against each other in the echoing space. ]

...It gonna hurt?

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