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Maybe that's another way that he can help. ]
Look, don't worry. Is your door unlocked? Can you unlock it?
[ He'll be able to jar the door open if he needs to but he might as well ask. He's already out his own door and heading down the hall, more than a little sorry that he can't carry everything he's bringing and hold his crossbow properly at the same time. Instead, it's strapped across his back since he goes nowhere without it.
It isn't that Daryl hasn't thought about catching whatever it is from Jesse. It's that he's spent a year and a half in Hell and he knows this isn't how they like to hurt people here. At least, not in his own experience. That, and he isn't worried about dying. Not here.
It's just other people dying that gets to Daryl. ]
Kid, talk to me.
no subject
I'll check.
[ It takes all of his strength to literally roll out of the bed and onto the floor in a heap. He just lays there for a couple of minutes before he pushes himself up with a grunt, his entire body quaking as he reaches his door and pulls it open. Jesse makes it to the front door of the suite and unlocks it, then shoves something in the doorway to prop it open just so someone doesn't come along and lock it again. He's not entirely sure he can make it back to his room, but he tries even though he has to lean against the walls a few times before he makes it. He grabs the trashcan in his room and spits crimson into it. His face is pale and gaunt and he's shaking hard by the time he curls up into a ball on his bed, not even having the energy to pull his blanket up off the floor. ]
I unlocked it. Fuck, I feel like I'm gonna pass out, man. Th-they say you can't die here. Is that true?
[ His voice is quivering and soft. He's sure Daryl can hear the tears in his eyes from the way his words tremble. Normally he might be embarrassed, but he can't bring himself to care. ]
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Try'n stay awake. I ain't got anythin' to help you breathe if you pass out.
[ He says it from the doorway and quickly moves in to judge the severity of the problem. From what he can see, it's... severe. More blood than he'd ever want to see someone coughing up and shit, the kid looks like death. That makes the question he's avoiding answering even more weighted. ]
Fuck. True an' not true. Here, hang on...
[ Daryl picks up the blanket from the floor and covers Jesse with it, then adds another two duvets he'd brought with him before sitting down on the bed by Jesse's hip. He lays one hand on the kid's forehead and yeah, that's not a good sign either. His fucking brain is going to scramble with this heat. Something painful in Daryl's gut twists. Goddamn this place. Goddamn it. ]
Good news is, no. It ain't anythin' like dyin' back home. Your mind'll still be here when you get back.
[ But the bad news... Daryl sighs and strokes his hand back from Jesse's forehead through his hair, feeling the way he's shivering. Knowing that if something like this is happening at all, it's probably going to get worse before it gets better. ]
Bad news is... yeah, kid. You gotta go first.
no subject
[ Jesse answers weakly, then pitches forward, his upper body hanging halfway off the bed as another coughing fit wracks his weakened frame. It sounds worse in person. Thick and wet. Jesse's face goes red as he coughs and coughs, blood spraying from his mouth and hitting the bag in the trashcan in a fine mist. He spits a few times afterward, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he throws himself back onto the mattress in one fell swoop, chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath.
He's pale and it looks like he's lost weight that he couldn't afford to lose, as scrawny as he had been to begin with. His clothes hang off of him even more than they had before, and he's noticed that he started to have to tighten his belt a couple more notches than usual. True an' not true. Were he not feeling so shitty, Jesse's face would have screwed up in confusion and a smartass comment would have likely followed along with it. Something along the lines of 'what the hell's that supposed to mean'. But, he can barely focus enough to just stay awake, a task that Daryl's just handed him and one that he's trying to comply with. ]
Fuck--!
[ Jesse jerks when Daryl's hand touches his forehead, but he quickly apologizes for such a strong reaction. ]
Sorry it's--your hand's like ice.
[ More like his head is ablaze with fever. Sweat is beading at his temples and yet he's shivering so hard that his teeth are chattering, even beneath all of the blankets including the ones Daryl brought him. ]
You didn't have to come. I don't wanna get you sick. But...
[ He doesn't want to be alone, either. He can't quite bring himself to say that. It's unclear if he's too weak or too embarrassed to admit it aloud. He sighs when he feels Daryl's fingers in his hair and he closes his eyes for a couple of seconds, grateful for that touch that he didn't have to ask for. ]
I don't wanna' die...
[ When his eyes open they're an even more vibrant blue, highlighted by unshed tears. His breath hitches in his chest, face threatening to crumple. It doesn't seem to ease the worry and fear that death isn't permanent. The process of it still scares the shit out of him. ]
no subject
[ Daryl takes his hand away, resisting the urge to flinch at having caused the kid discomfort and instead he tucks Jesse in more aggressively, running his hand up and down his blanketed arm to generate a little more heat as he sweats and shivers. Normally Daryl would consider trying to bring the kid's fever down but from what he can see, whatever this is that's running through him has him in the last throes.
Daryl's heart sinks and he squeezes Jesse's arm, shaking his head obstinately. The bullshit that Hell puts you through is always better handled together. ]
Don't worry 'bout me. I don't get sick.
[ But an old familiar sort of sympathy in Daryl is tugged at when Jesse whines that he just doesn't want to die. Daryl closes his eyes and runs his hand over Jesse's hair again, trying to soothe him in what little way he can. He isn't going to lie. He's almost never been able to be that person. ]
Maybe you won't.
[ Maybe this is just some fucking torture that they're putting Jesse through. When Daryl has a minute he'll dig out his device and ask Carol if she knows about anyone else getting sick like this. Something clearly isn't right here but he doesn't know what it is. He just knows he can't leave Jesse now to go find out elsewhere. ]
But... I'll stay with you. Either way. [ Because it seems like there's nothing left but to keep him company and get him through it. ]
Wakin' up after sucks, like the worst sorta hangover. [ He doesn't exactly say it lightly but it's true. Jesse will survive this, whatever happens. ] So. I'll be here.
sorry this was so late! damn notifications >:|
Jesse tries to hold back a cough, clearing his throat painfully instead and then swallowing thickly. He must look like death, or that's what he's guessing with how goddamn solemn Daryl looks. He's barely seen the guy make an expression, but there's a worry and almost a sorrow about him right now that's cutting Jesse deep. It's manifesting almost physically, winding him like a well-placed punch to the gut. So much so that he grimaces with the effort it takes to draw his next breath. Jesse just nods, some relief washing over his face when Daryl says that he'll stay. He couldn't ever bring himself to really ask that. Not directly. Yeah, when he reached out to Daryl he was right in thinking that the other guy might come looking for him, but he could never willingly ask the guy to stick by his deathbed until it was all over. Not knowing that he'd bear witness to something that has the potential to get ugly. ]
You-you've died here? What was it like?
[ Jesse asks, wondering if Daryl knows first-hand about the hangover thing or if it's just common knowledge amongst people who've been here for much longer than he has. Jesse still has a lot to learn about Hell. He's not sure what kind of lesson this is teaching him, though. Besides, of course, the fact that there's at least one person he can count on in this place, which he's suddenly made aware of as he feels Daryl's hand squeeze his arm. It's comforting, even through all these layers. ]
lmfao your notifs hate me
[ In truth, he'd barely felt much after the shock set in, but he doesn't mention the fact that with him, and surely with Carol too if Hell ever catches her like it did him, something else happens after he dies. If Rey hadn't happened upon his severed head and done the right thing on instinct, he might very well still be rotting away like that, brainless and helpless.
People look out for each other here. The right people, anyway. In that way, it's just like back home. ]
Comin' back happens fast. Then you just wait to stop feeling' like shit.
[ His voice is low and scratchy but he's trying to be comforting without faking anything. It isn't going to be pleasant. But it isn't the end, either. He squeezes Jesse's arm again to tell him so, then moves to rub his back. He stays quiet for a while, thinking. Wondering if he should make the offer. In the end he decides he has to, even if he's far from sure the kid will take him up on it. It's hard to accept that death isn't real until you've gone through it yourself and come back out on the original side. ]
I can... make it easier for you. If you want.
[ It's clear from the way he lowers his voice what he means. There's no secret cure he's keeping from Jesse. Just the shortcut. Subconsciously, his hand moves to stroke over the back of Jesse's skull, exactly where he'd put the knife. ]
In my world it's easy to go bad an' slow. So I've done it a lot. You wouldn't... feel nothin'.
dw hates us both
[ Jesse cringes. He can't even imagine going out so horribly, even if what he's going through is no cakewalk. He doesn't bother asking what happened because he's not sure if he even wants to know, especially if it has the potential of happening to him sometime in the future. Apparently, Hell has lots of unpleasant surprises. Being able to die again is just another drop in the bucket. ]
What's it feel like when you come back?
[ Sorry, Daryl. Jesse's full of questions. To his credit, this whole dying thing is new to him and it's inherently terrifying. Asking questions makes him feel like he'll be prepared for whatever's to come, even if he can't really prepare for any of this properly. Somehow knowing exactly what's going to happen makes it easier to stomach for him. He looks up at Daryl, wide blue eyes almost pleading with him, like he just wants to be told everything'll pan out and be okay. But he doesn't know how to ask for that. Not really. So he just asks questions.
Jesse swallows thickly when Daryl offers to make it easier. On instinct, Jesse nearly asks what he means by that, but his eyes just get wider as the reality of what Daryl said sinks in. Easier. By that, he surely means faster. He's offering to put him down like a dog. To cut his suffering short. At first, Jesse almost scoots away, terrified of the thought, but the longer he thinks about it, the more it makes sense. The only problem is that Daryl's going to have to live with that, even if he knows he'll come back. He closes his eyes for a moment, pressing into Daryl's hand when he feels the other man's touch sweep over the back of his head. ]
I...um. Yeah, if it gets too bad to handle. But only if you're okay with that. Only if you're sure.
[ Jesse winces as he tries to push himself up again, coughing over the garbage can, his frail frame quivering with every wet, rattling hack. His lips and hand are smeared with blood when he finally collapses back to the bed, blue eyes filling with tears as it hits him that this is going downhill fast. He already feels like he's circling the drain, and even though he trusts Daryl that he's coming back, he doesn't feel ready to let go. ]
makes bets against dw (cw: child abuse)
But shit like that doesn't happen here in Hell. Hell is the thing doing it to them, after all. ]
A whole lot better'n you feel now. Like comin' outta surgery, I guess.
[ He's just assuming. Daryl had never once been taken to a hospital for any of his wounds as a child or young adult. He'd never even seen a doctor before Hershel had taken his first look at him and stitched the arrow wound in his side closed. All his scars are nasty and twisted precisely because they hadn't been looked at by a professional.
But Daryl remembers waking up in that tent, blurry and confused and needing, more than anything, to talk to someone who could explain things to him. He can do that from the other side, this time. That's what gets him through each consecutive moment now. ]
An' I'll be here. So you won't be confused for long. Promise.
[ He feels like he's repeating himself but Daryl can sense that Jesse needs to hear it. Too bad to handle. He just purses his lips, wondering what that will look like but unwilling to push. Not for this. If they had a gun he'd give that to Jesse and tell him to end it himself but it's just Daryl's knives in the room and he doesn't want to leave.
So he finally nods, quietly deciding that he'll be the one to decide what too bad to handle looks like. ]
I'm sure. Like I said, I've had to... help out people I've known way longer'n you, kid.
[ And the longer Jesse coughs and hacks and punishes himself by breathing through it, the more Daryl is sure that it looks like what's in front of him right that moment. He rubs Jesse's back through the fit and gets enough info from Carol via his device with the other hand to seal the deal. Tons of sinners are sickening and dying, it seems, not just Jesse. Whatever is happening is deadly and spreading.
So Daryl makes sure that when Jesse hits the bed, he does so on his side so he doesn't notice the knife. Daryl slides in close beside him, still sitting up as the kid catches his breath and almost finds a moment of relaxation. Or he might have been able to if every breath wasn't rattling in his skinny little chest. Daryl sighs out his nose and strokes one rough palm back over Jesse's forehead again. Soothing. Holding him around his weak chest with his other big arm. And then with one sharp stab, it's over without warning.
He'll feel badly about that for a while but Daryl doesn't let it stop him from the demands of the present. He moves Jesse's head over the bin so that when he pulls the knife out of the base of his skull, gently and carefully, the blood doesn't go everywhere. Daryl doesn't know for sure how much time he has, but when Jesse comes to, Daryl intends for it to be in a fresh bed without a hint of blood in the room. He can do that much to pass the time. All the better to keep from thinking about the kid's last moments, or how he's going to look at Daryl when he wakes up. ]
icons are being stupid so i only had a handful to choose from
Jesse trusts Daryl enough to make it quick and as painless as possible, but it's still a horrifying thought; knowing you're about to be killed, even if it's the merciful and right thing to do. Jesse knows it can't be easy for Daryl, either, in spite of how the guy tries to tell him that this isn't his first rodeo. He's had to kill people he's known for longer (and implied in that, cares about more) than him.
Another coughing fit wracks his already weakened frame and it feels like he can barely stay conscious through it, ears ringing and vision going gray around the edges. His hands and feet tingle like he's losing touch with the world, but Jesse's a tough little shit. Stubborn, too. He should probably be dead already, but he's hanging on. Clinging to reality like a tick on a deer that just won't fall off in spite of being painfully full.
When he goes to collapse back onto the bed, Daryl puts him on his side instead of his back. He notices, but what it means doesn't sink in. All he has the wherewithal to notice is how nice it feels to have something big and sturdy to lean back against when Daryl slides in behind him. His last thoughts are peaceful and relaxed, and Daryl's right--he never sees it coming. Jesse doesn't even have time to react, though his hearing is the last to go and there's a sudden crunch of steel breaking through bone in the darkness. It doesn't startle him, though, and his brainstem is so quickly severed that he doesn't have the time to contemplate what he's hearing. After that, it's just...nothingness. Like going to sleep.
A couple of hours have passed when Jesse startles awake, his hand flying up to the back of his head. There's a scar there now, and he subconsciously knows what that means but his brain hasn't fully kicked on yet. He's still in a panic, kicking at the blankets so carefully tucked in around him, bolting upright in spite of his head feeling like it's going to explode with every move he makes. His blue eyes are wide and lit up like the sky on the nicest day of the year--almost more alive than they had been before. They settle on Daryl, big and pleading; terrified. He knows this man, but how? From where? Where even is he? His body is still resetting, his brain slowly coming to like a lagging old desktop computer. Nothing quite makes sense yet. ]
The fuck is this?
[ Okay, so a piece of him is still there. ]
no subject
Even though he was expecting it, Daryl almost startles when Jesse opens his eyes and practically bolts upright. He moves to sit beside him immediately, not trapping him in the sheets he's fighting, not reaching out to grab him. Just being close. Being recognizable. Being there. ]
Hey. It's me. It's all alright, hey, c'mon...
[ In an immediate sense, anyway he is alright. The kid is still in Hell, something like this could still happen again, but for now? In this room? He's okay. He's just going to have one badass head and body ache. ]
You're back. You... you remember what happened, right? Just- just lay back. You're hurtin'.
[ Because he might need to be reminded of that. Daryl remembers his own confusion. ]
D'you remember me, Jesse? Who am I?
no subject
Yeah.
[ Jesse nods and then wets his lips. He grimaces as a sharp pain stabs at him behind the eyes, but it passes quickly and dies down to a dull throb, and he's able to speak again. ]
You're Daryl and you-- [ You just killed me. ] --it's over, right?
[ His chest is heaving but he can't fully reason why. Maybe it's just the adrenaline still giving him jitters. Maybe his wires are still a little crossed from the whole resurrection thing. Probably a little of both. His shoulders start to drop, the tension beginning to melt out of them but he's not laying back--not taking it easy like he's being told to in spite of feeling like he's been run over by a truck. ]
[ He looks down at his shirt. It's not the same one he had been wearing before and his hand smooths over the crisp, new sheets. It hits him that Daryl must have...cleaned up. Which means he probably bled all over everything. A wave of nausea runs through him, but he breathes through it. Aside from the whole blood and gore aspect, it hits him that it's actually kinda nice that he bothered to get him all cleaned up before he woke up, so he wouldn't have to see the aftermath. He's still imagining it, but that can't be half as bad as actually seeing it. Somehow, he's still feeling a stab of guilt over it, though. That Daryl had to deal with it all on his own in those few hours. That the weight of it was still settled on him, even though those broad shoulders seem built to carry the weight of the world. Jesse suddenly realizes he doesn't want that for him, even if he's built to take it. ]
Can you stay?
[ He feels a little awkward asking, but it's the most direct request he's been able to muster. He's feeling vulnerable and for some reason, this guy's always around when he's feeling his weakest and manages to take care of him without making him feel weird about it. ]
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Even though mercy killing is never goddamn easy. ]
I think so. How you feelin' here? [ And he points to his own chest instead of reaching for Jesse. He takes a deep breath as another indication of what he means. ] Breathin' okay now?
[ But as he watches Jesse take in the room, his clean clothes, Daryl is reminded of that tent he'd woken up in well over a year ago. Still alone in Hell without Carol, without friends, he'd woken up aching with his head spinning and only an acquaintance happening by to explain to him what had happened. All those horrific memories had rushed back into that gap that death had left. He's glad he could provide better for Jesse.
He feels another painful stab in his chest when he remembers how he hadn't been able to do that for Gabe. ]
You want me to stay?
[ Yeah, he'd heard him, and Daryl feels a little slow for repeating it but he feels like he needs double confirmation. Jesse is still scattered and scared, he can tell, but that will pass in time. Maybe he'll feel ashamed if Daryl sticks around any longer, Daryl doesn't know that he'd even be able to ask for that small comfort in Jesse's place.
But he isn't going to tell him no. Not here and suddenly, Daryl worries, possibly not ever. He's hard to say no to, this kid. Not with wide harmless eyes like that. ]
Yeah. I can. [ His voice is gravel and quiet, never really soft but there's profound exhaustion and compassion in it all at once. ] You wanna talk for a while? Or just sit?
no subject
Yeah--yeah, I can breathe okay now.
[ Jesse's still coming out of the fog, but he's conscious enough to know that when he asked Daryl to say, he'd meant it. It wasnt something that would suddenly go away once the cobwebs clear from his head. If anything, feeling so vulnerable makes him crave company rather than a desire to hide away and stick it out on his own like some others might feel. Jesse does better with company. Sometimes because it's a distraction from his own thoughts, and other times because it just feels good to have a physical reminder that he doesn't have to go through the hard shit alone. Not here, anyway. ]
Yeah...can you? [ Jesse looks to Daryl with those big eyes, a sudden fear rising in him that he'll say no even if he hasn't given any indication that he's trying to get up and leave. ]
Please?
[ Jesse tacks on the word suddenly, as a wave of pain rocks through him, muscles cramping up briefly]
Ah, fuck...
[ He hisses through it, rubbing at one of his arms, trying to ease away the soreness even though it probably won't help. It seems like these things just have to run their course. ]
We can talk, but...I mean, we don't have to. It's enough just knowing you're here...
[ A piece of him wonders if he should feel embarrassed for admitting that out loud, but he doesn't. It doesn't feel wrong to be truthful with Daryl. It feels like the right thing to do. ]