dadyl | 𝙿𝙴𝙽𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝙸𝙽𝙱𝙾𝚇 ;

[ It's exactly the sort of touch that would normally have helped to put Daryl at ease, but the guilt and the fear boiling in him are too strong for it to make much of a dent, now. He just shakes his head against that hand tightly and swallows, finally coming back to himself when he pulls out of the hug self-consciously.

He isn't okay. He isn't going to be okay until he can do something about this. ]

It's my fault.

[ His voice is a croak and he can't look at Gabe. ]

I left her there. Missin'. I left.

[ Gabe lets him go, breathing out slow. Okay. He can't read Daryl's expression like this, but it's impossible to miss the tension in his stance, and in his voice.

Fuck. ]

Slow down. Start at the beginning.

[ Daryl lets out a breath but it's a shaky one. He's stopped pacing but that's just making the anxious energy build up faster in him and he keeps bunching his hands into fists, squeezing too hard, and then shaking them out. ]

We were attacked. [ No surprise there. ] Stranded, then attacked. Waitin' for rescue.

She-- she disappeared.

[ His voice gets thick. He wishes he had another demon to punch. He needs to hit something. ]

Me'n Rick looked for her, but...

[ Disappeared can mean a whole lot of things. He needs more detail. Gabe tips his head back, falling into the mission mindset. Everything calm and cold. ]

She the only one?

[ Daryl shakes his head tightly. He knows there were more who didn't make it to the boats, but other than Carol, he wasn't paying attention to who. ]

No. Maybe a dozen others. Maybe more.

[ Big group to go missing. Means the enemy's coordinated. Means they've got numbers, too. Gabe turns that over in his mind, considering his angles. They need to be smart about this before they go off swearing brutal, bloody vengeance. ]

What're the demons saying?

Not enough.

[ He spits it out, blind frustration turning into anger again now that someone is here to listen to him. ]

They're sayin' we'll go back to find 'em. But they're not sayin' when.

[ And now is the only acceptable answer for Daryl. ]

What else are they saying, exactly?

[ They need details, more intelligence. ]

The boat still here?

Just that Lucifer or whoever is goin' back for 'em. An' we can come.

[ It's not enough information for someone used to solving their own problems, someone not used to waiting on the schedule of others, and he's seething as much as he is terrified for Carol. ]

No. The say it ain't ready.

[ If there was as much as a paddle boat to take, Daryl would already be on it. ]

Was it a regular ass boat? Could anyone navigate it, or did it have some freaky Hell bullshit in the engines?

I don't know.

[ They hadn't been keen on letting any of them see the inner workings and Daryl wouldn't know how to get a boat that size where it was needed, even if he could steal it on his own. After all, between them, it was Carol who knew boats after spending so many months on one.

But he's furious that he doesn't know and that's what's making him lash out. Instead of hitting Gabe, he turns and kicks a broken log of driftwood down the beach. ]

Okay.

[ Thing is, he knows that anger. That helpless sort of rage that bubbles up in the aftermath when you can't avenge the hurt done to your people and that need to move, to commit to a course of action, to tear the goddamn world asunder for daring to fuck your people over. He gets it, knows it, has ridden that ride a thousand times before. Hell was hardly the first time. He's been fighting nearly his entire goddamn life. It goes in predictable ways. And that means he understands this, just like he understands that one of them needs to keep their head and focus.

Gabe tips his head back, toggling his tech to scan Daryl for injuries, for anything that's still bleeding. ]

Hey. Hey. Eyes on me. You wanna punch something, I'll punch you in the goddamn face, but I need you here.

[ Sure enough, Daryl is still injured and while he doesn't consider the wounds serious, he hasn't done a thing to take care of them. He hasn't been able to consider himself yet, not even for a minute. He has a shallow knife wound on one upper arm and another right along his cheekbone, both less dire than they were thanks to Hell's accelerated healing, but neither is closed.

He does turn his glare on Gabe when he's told to and being threatened makes him want to throw a punch, but he doesn't - because he's being told that someone needs something from him. That is something he can always hear. ]

I am here! That's the fuckin' problem.

[ He should never have left without her. It's all he keeps thinking. ]

She-- I shouldn'tve...

[ A dry, sobbing sound escapes him and he turns away fast because he can't cry in front of Gabe. ]

[ Okay. That's better, that's Daryl at least halfway focused on him and not whatever shit went down on the island. If they get into a fistfight, fine, that's whatever, Gabe can field that. So long as it keeps Daryl here and not spiraling out. He exhales through his teeth and makes a decision, marching up and putting his hands on Daryl's face. He presses their foreheads together and he slows his own breathing down deliberately.

There's a job, so he'll get it done. He always does. ]

Eyes on me.

[ Stay here, stay in the moment. Don't go off somewhere he can't follow. ]

I get it. I do, Daryl, I fucking do. But I need you to breathe for me, and stay here.

[ Daryl jerks away on instinct when Gabe's hands move for his face, but after that first flinch, he lets himself be grabbed. He's taut as a bowstring but he allows it, doesn't shove him away, doesn't snap again because it isn't like Gabe making him slow down is keeping him from something. He's been pacing the beach precisely because there's nothing else to do.

Slowly, slowly, Daryl's breathing starts to match Gabe's. He reaches up to hold onto him by the elbows with both bloody hands and he keeps his eyes closed until he can open them without tearing up. ]

I am.

[ He doesn't answer until he's sure. He nods against Gabe's forehead but it's still a stiff movement, and then he's trying, almost shyly, to pull away. ]

I'm here.

[ Even though he shouldn't be. ]

[ There's an equal chance this will snap Daryl into focus or provoke him into landing a blow. A risk either way, but Gabe's never been one to worry or second-guess himself. When he moves, he commits. This time, it pays off. Daryl settles in small ways. Breathes with him.

Good. He can work with that. Gabe exhales slowly and lets Daryl go.

Nice and steady. That's the way. ]

All right. First things first. How bad are you fucked up? And don't tell me you're not. I know.

[ When that sure touch falls away it's both a relief and a loss and Daryl sniffs hard and swallows. Looks away out at the water like it can steady him. He squeezes his hands into fists to stop them from shaking and huffs a dismissive sound at the question.

But when Gabe reads him like a book, Daryl's defiance breaks with a sigh. ]

It ain't bad.

[ For him. ]

Uh huh.

[ Sure, buddy. Because that's a tone he knows, and that's a line he's used almost verbatim. Gabe exhales through his teeth, calculating out the odds in his head. ]

You would've fit right in with the team back home. I found Prior trying to walk off a broken collarbone one time. That little shit kept it up for three hours before I caught him.

[ But then, little brother's always been stubborn. It runs in the blood, in this trade, this life. In people like them. Some things bleed true regardless. ]

I'm gonna patch you. And you're going to help me, yeah? Then we're going to figure this shit out.

[ He doesn't know why but Gabe's little story about his friend makes Daryl snort. It's too dry to be a laugh but it's a tiny release that Daryl wasn't expecting and it leaves him a little more open to listening - just open enough that he nods at the directives.

Then we're going to figure this shit out.

His shoulders finally sag a fraction of an inch with that reassurance. He knows Rick is just down the beach on a fact-finding mission of his own, probably, but having one more person he can rely on helps. It helps a lot. ]

Okay.

[ He's agreeing with the second part more so than the first part, but he isn't going to fight it. He has nothing else to do and that's what's killing him, but following the right person's orders has always felt good. ]

Okay.

[ They're agreed. That's step one. The rest will fall into place with enough forward momentum. Gabe hums a little, motioning Daryl forward with his hand. ]

You got medical gear here, or we heading back to the hotel?

I ain't goin' anywhere.

[ He answers too fast and too gruffly, as though Gabe is trying to lure him away from where he should be. He shakes his head a moment later, catching himself, a stab of guilt making him try again. ]

They're lookin' after people, down the beach a bit.

[ He looks in that direction, considering it for the first time. ]

The ones that could make it through the boat ride, anyway.

[ The rest, the ones with life-threatening injuries, had been triaged on the boat itself. Daryl himself had waved any attention off like it was an accusation. ]

You're getting patched up.

[ Location matters less than the tools at hand. This part isn't up for debate. Gabe hums to himself, toggling his tech again. Scanning the area as he considers his options, and how much he needs to push. They have to be smart about this. ]

Okay. Let's start there. If they're triaging, they've got gear. And I can take care of the rest if it isn't too complicated.

I said it ain't that bad.

[ He hears himself sounding petulant and sighs again, reaching up to rub at his face with his dirty hands to try and calm down. He's exhausted - he hadn't been sleeping much on the island while he had people to look out for and he certainly hasn't slept since. Every nerve left in him feels frayed. ]

It's just a couple cuts. I swear.

[ But he knows he wouldn't drop it either in Gabe's place. It's as comforting as it is frustrating. ]

You almost put your thumb in the one on my face.

Uh huh.

[ It sucks being the responsible one. But somebody has to do it. There's a job, a mission to complete. They made a deal to look after each other's people. First step to that is making sure Daryl's patched, that he slows down enough to assess the situation clearly.

First part of that is dealing with the wounds.

Gabe clicks his teeth. This is going to be fun. ]

They need stitches? My tech can scan for that.

[ Daryl huffs like he's been caught and looks away, then turns his arm to try and examine the cut on his bicep. ]

Probably.

[ He isn't going to lie outright, at least. He doesn't like sitting still for medical attention, even less when he feels like he should be doing something, but neither does he like punishing people for giving a shit about him. At least not anymore. ]

You tellin' me you can take care of that, too?

[ He has to admit - it's much easier to accept the help from someone he knows. ]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

lmfao i have zero info so daryl does, too ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject