[ Sheβs still wrapping her head around the fact that she can think of someone, and thenβas if by magic, likely by magicβher voice will sound in their head. Nonetheless, it works, and she gains nothing by hesitation.
[ God, he hates it. He hates it more than he's ever hated anything, not the least of which because the magic just lets her into his head like it's nothing, like no one needs a key, least of all her. ]
Are we?
[ The statement, the method of delivery, the dread it kicks up in him. All of his irritation is audible in his answer. ]
[ Even though it's happening in his mind, he somehow manages to hold back 'and you just watched.' Maybe because he still isn't looking for a fight with her. ]
[ She knows better. There will be a reckoning and they are both of them liars. But the equation has shifted now. Not so long ago, she was the last man standing. And now, her little brother has come back from the deadβbrittle, and shaken, but alive.
There are no second chances. Nothing that clean. But it changes things now. She has obligations beyond sheer survival, and the mission she assigned herself after putting down her dead, one by one. She has one of them back now and she means to hold onto them. It canβt be done through lies but she knows Bossie, too: he canβt take the truth of it head on, not just yet. And she knows, too, that she cannot say any of this to Daryl because he will, inevitably, use it against her. The bitter lessons are the ones that stick. And this she has learned oh so well. ]
[ There's a long silence where Daryl wonders if that's it. If all she'd wanted from him enough to reach out was the promise of some shakey truce, but why should she believe him even if he agrees? She's proven that she has no interest in taking his word on anything. Not unless she has no other choice.
But she's talking. And he has questions since seeing Bossie. ]
[ He can't figure any of it out. It had made some kind of feasible sense, at least the timing had, until he'd seen Bossie. Maybe Leah had survived what had happened. What he did.
But not Bossie. He's been in the ground long enough to turn to worms. ]
[ She doesnβt understand them yet but she will because thatβs where the power lies: understanding how a thing works, the full shape of it. Why it works and how it breaks and how it can be made into a newer, stronger form. She had to understand the Army before she could survive as a soldier, had to understand the shape demanded of her before she tried to become something new; she never knew what shape mother was supposed to be but she tried. She held onto it with both hands and thought, maybe. And now here she is again, grappling with a system she doesnβt yet grasp but she will.
I didn't wanna take any of 'em from you. I tried to give 'em back.
[ "I didn't want this." And god, he hadn't. But he's surprised at the anger in his bark now. He'd thought he'd left it all behind, buried it like everything else.
She'd forced his hand again and again and that was supposed to be that. He hadn't realized he was mad about it. ]
[ Her voice is iron, utterly unyielding. The unspoken part: you made me a liar, too. They could have walked it back if he hadnβt been there, muddying the waters. She could have dragged Pope back to the center and things would have gone back to normal. They could have had a community, walls.
But thatβs nothing but wistful thinking. Itβs not what happened and sheβs always had a tendency to get emotional, her mother sighing at the dinner table, you know I canβt hear you when you get like this, sweetie; her first sergeant, sneering and almost sad after the first time she scraped a corpse off the sand; you gonna fucking cry now, Shaw? You gonna be a girl about it? I knew youβd fucking cry.
Pope, glasses shining, when she knew she was his favorite: You can do better than that.
Pope, gurgling as he died under her boot. She wasnβt yet a liar then but it was coming. Inevitable as the fire, as Popeβs wrath of God shining in the blood. ]
Then your back was to a wall, and you killed my brother. You thought Iβd take your hand after you did that? You thought Iβd give them up so easily?
[ Thereβd been a moment where sheβd thought about it, is the thing. Not leaving them, no, never, but finding an angle to make it work. A moment where she might have taken his hand after all and bodied the cost. And then sheβd seen Ancheta lying there, and that made it so very simple. ]
It doesnβt matter what you wanted, Daryl. Thatβs not what happened.
[ Did you give me a choice? And you wouldn't have? And I'd do it again, if it meant their lives.
He could say a lot and so of course, he says nothing. Silence buzzes from his end because she isn't wrong. He'd hoped she would, been almost sure she would. That he could gamble on the piece of her he'd known once in the woods. The piece that had shone for a moment when that wounded mother had closed her eyes and Shaw had lowered her gun. He'd thought for a second that part of her was bigger than it really was, that she had seen her people for what they were. That killing Pope had meant that.
It hadn't, but she's right about one thing. It doesn't matter what he wanted. It never had.
So he asks what he's afraid to ask. Time to test the scab. ]
[ She knows what heβs asking without directly asking, the wound heβs circling. Itβs a habit of his. The sort of thing that bleeds down into the marrow, all bruised and weary because you cannot look at the sun head on without bodying the burn, and some things it hurts to ask directly. It would hardly be the first time. And she knows himβor did, once. How difficult it can be to voice the things you dredge from down deep. Once, she might have helped him.
[ So she's been thinking the same thing, too. There's a coldness in that realization, that he had been the last one willing to believe the possibility. He hadn't wanted it to be that way that day but he'd had to carry it in the end.
Just one more thing. Just one more mistake, just one more death.
What's just one more, right? ]
Guess there ain't one. It went the way it was gonna go.
[ Choices. She'd made her choices, a lifetime full of them before Daryl had even met her. Why is that so easy to forget about as soon as she's in front of him? As soon as they start talking? ]
Just keep him away from me.
[ But even as he says 'me' Daryl worries about all the others. All the people here, new arrivals and townies alike, that don't know about them. About who's walking among them. ]
[ She rarely curses. But thereβs real anger in her tone, and it comes out in sideways means. She canβt control what Daryl says to Bossie, or people in general, and so doesnβt intend to try. But he lied to her once, over and over again, and now to say that heβs done with it?
[ That's all Daryl can take. He doesn't know how to shut out whatever web is holding them all together in their heads but he can end the conversation there if he tries.
[ She almost snaps at him. Almost. Anger's an old friend of hers at this point, one of the few she's kept and carried her whole life. God, Lee, you're an angry girl, her mother used to say. What've you got to be angry about? Like her daughter was so unreasonable to want something else, to be seen as she was and not as the blank slate everyone around her wanted - a doll to be molded and told to stand up tall and be charming. They never spoke again after Leah finished bootcamp and she doesn't know what story her family told about her absence. What did it matter, when she never really existed for them in the first place?
Anger is easy. Anger is her oldest friend. And she knows Daryl's silence. She could get him to break it if she tried, if she pushed hard enough.
She doesn't. She just exhales through her teeth, and lets it go. What's done is done. She has work to do now. ]
[ everything in the void had been so turned around. she rubs at the back of her head. the spot where she'd hit it when aristaeus had knocked her unconscious, ready to haul her off back to kossos. it feels different. because this wasn't a betrayal. ]
[ He's so much older than her, has so much more experience with the violence of the world (he assumes). He owed her to make the right decision for all of them because of that. That's all the endeared term was meant for but if she doesn't like it, he makes that note quietly to himself. ]
[ she realizes after sending the message that she doesn't know for sure. not really. but it feels right, intuitively, and she refuses to retract it. surely he has.
she has, and he had understood her implicitly, held her through it. no one who hadn't taken a life could have done the same.
the rest is familiar enough that it doesn't really occur to her to consider it as especially horrific, certainly not as compared to death. ]
[ Killing is almost second nature to him. Countless enemies, friends that needed mercy. Leah, in the end, no matter how much he wished it could have gone differently.
But hurting someone for its own end has never been him. He had never felt those things before but now he knows how it feels to enjoy it. And he can't just unknow it. ]
[ she could have, if she hadn't been worried about killing him in turn. if she hadn't held herself back from it. now he has to live with this, and it clearly haunts him in a way that it doesn't quite haunt her.
the coming back was far, far worse than the dying. it casts a shadow over all the rest. ]
[ He doesn't know what she's capable of. She's told him a little but most of what he thinks he knows is really just what Daryl has seen fit to imagine. ]
If it happens again. I want you to kill me.
[ At least that way he won't be taking anyone else down with him. He won't get lost inside himself again. ]
[ hold her power back, squeeze it all inside herself because she can't bear to kill the only company she has. her people are gone, and the people she has now are therefore too precious to her.
she could not even bring herself to kill aristaeus.
she had suffered for daryl, thrown herself into the void and died for him, and she would do it again. but he did not want that. he wanted to not have to live with what he'd done to her. she thinks on it, knowing what they have both been through now, what they owe to the duchess and how different they may be. ]
i will if you transform again i will be the one to end it
[ He still doesn't know what it is but she seems sure of herself, of her capabilities. He doesn't know how anything would be able to kill him in that state, he hadn't even been able to stop himself when the first of the urges took over, but he'll take any type of assurance now over nothing at all. ]
Good. Thank you.
[ But somehow this isn't at all how he'd thought this conversation would go. ]
[ That hits him hard. She'd seemed alone, but then someone had taken her from his camp and she'd seemed... okay with it in a way Daryl couldn't understand, so he hadn't intervened. It hadn't been his business even if it had felt like it was. She'd all but told him so.
But what she sends him next shuts him up. It makes more sense than he wants it to. ]
You changed too?
[ He hadn't been lucid enough to tell. It just hadn't mattered to him in that state. Nothing but mounting, fucking, and then killing her had. ]
[ she hasn't, yet. she's fucked and scrapped her way through enough of this for that, it seems, and yet it keeps leaking through. stress, or something. she can't put her finger on it. ]
[ Some mysteries are slowly shaking themselves into place for Daryl. Things he hadn't realized he'd been wondering about, which he'd just written off as impossibly strange. ]
So that wasn't you either.
[ She was in the ways that matter to Daryl. But maybe it's more complicated than the way it makes him feel. ]
[ she certainly doesn't feel like herself, now. but she could remember everything through the haze of heat and hunger anyway, and there is something primal about it that makes a kind of sense to her.
[ she won't, but she can insist that she remains committed to getting daryl back to his. the kuruko may be dead, but he doesn't have to hurt like she does. ]
[ Some people have disappeared and not come back, he's heard. So maybe she's right. He just doesn't have the space in his heart left for hope like that. Not right now. ]
You ok?
[ He knows it's a stupid question but neither does he want to ask: Can I see you again? ]
[ At first he doesn't know what to say. Then he does. ]
I'd like that.
[ He's just too tired and fucking sad about it all to lie. It's good that she's with Felipe, that they're safe together. But he wants to see her again. ]
[ she knows the one. it had almost been her room, but she had been too soft, and had instead given jesse her rock to defend the room with. to keep it for himself. he didn't want to fight, he said.
it's good that he hadn't come out to the woods with them.
she climbs the stairs, finds her way to the room, and enters without knocking. there is no knocking at a campsite, and she hasn't bothered to stop and learn niceties in the past couple months.
she surveys the room, trying to make sense of what little changes he had made since she last saw it. ]
[ He's sitting on the bed when she comes in but he stands up quickly when she does. He isn't surprised that she didn't knock, as social niceties seem out of place on her. Jesse had left the door unlocked on his way out earlier because with Daryl inside, their collection of furs and pelts and tack, not to mention cached stores of dried food, are safe. In fact, it looks nearly like a spare but rustic cabin that Mavis enters, minus the fire damage.
But Daryl himself is still in the fine clothes they'd dressed him in before releasing him on their long walk back to the town. ]
You're alive.
[ He's alive too, and yet he still hadn't quite been able to believe it of her. Not even after walking back from the castle with her, nearly catatonic. He needed to see her again to be sure. He's a little breathless now that he has. ]
[ her head tilts a little. she doesn't move towards him quite yet. doesn't feel like she is allowed to, by that greeting. instead, she cautiously shuts the door, earns them a little bit of privacy. it's the one advantage she can see to permanent structures like these. no ability to move where they'll find resources in a given season, but at least they can close themselves off more easily. ]
[ That's not what he'd meant, even if he's not sure what he did mean. The awkwardness of the moment shows on his face clearly. ]
Just... not used to mistakes takin' themselves back.
[ Except for Leah. He's done this before, in a way. This exact cycle. Kill her, then come face to face with her again. Only it's different with Mavis. It has to be. ]
[ mavis sits with that apology for a long, uncomfortable silence. she can feel his grief, his sincerity, as surely as she had felt his hunger. both had felt like him.
she draws nearer to him, studying his face. close enough to touch but never closing the distance entirely.
then she reaches into the back of her waistband and produces a kitchen knife. she holds it by the blade, offers it to him. her good knife was lost to the void, but this one will serve for now. ]
[ Daryl is an old hand at long, awkward silences, so it's easier on him than it would be on most, but when she approaches him he stands a little straighter. His shoulders square a little more despite how much he trusts her.
But when the knife comes out, nothing could have surprised him more. He blinks at her, lost. ]
Why... why would I do that?
[ He'd hurt her once already. The last thing he wants to do is do it again and the gesture has baffled him. ]
[ she shrugs. why indeed. he wouldn't hurt her. she knows this, and it was why she'd offered it in the first place. not for the sake of it, not for revenge.
it reassures her anyway. that the seed hadn't taken root in his mind, that she was to blame for all that death. her crimes are different, less personal to him, but she is familiar with the sense of responsibility.
she puts the knife away. ]
Exactly. [ she nods. ] Words mean nothing. This is what matters. You owe me nothing.
[ He's relieved when the blade disappears and he exhales, glad the moment isn't any more difficult to navigate than it appears on the surface. He understands what she meant by it. Perhaps even why she felt she had to do it.
But it means they're okay, there's something still friendly and salvageable here, and Daryl finds himself wishing he could do what he always does when he's reunited with a friend - he wishes he could hug her.
He doesn't. Not after what happened, he doesn't want to touch her in that way, doesn't want her to get the wrong idea. But no words of apology seem like enough. She's right, they mean nothing, so instead of trying he just reaches with one hand out to touch her shoulder, then her face. Her hair. Almost as if confirming she's there. ]
[ felipe had hugged her. had thrown himself recklessly at her, relieved by the light behind her eyes. she can feel the urge there, but he stamps it down. ruffles her hair instead.
kid.
so she does it for him. it's the first one she has taken, seized for herself. she closes her arms around his middle and hopes that she is just convincing, just reasonable.
that she is not a kossian, pressing her thoughts onto his, making him feel and think things that aren't his own. the kind that kuruko told stories about over fires to warn children not to wander too far. ]
[ It's more than relief that floods him when she steps into him and wraps her arms around him. It releases the self-hatred he's been carrying with him for days, the fury at himself he hasn't been able to give up since the Duchess had given him back a life.
It's not his life, not anymore, but maybe it doesn't have to be no life, after all. She forgives him. She isn't afraid of him. Daryl wraps his arms around her shoulders and fairly crushes her to his chest, committing to it entirely. He lets his nose tip into her hair and just breathes. ]
I thought you'd hate me.
[ Barely a murmur. They're so close he doesn't have to speak above a whisper. ]
who was she kidding? she was so desperately afraid of returning to the life she'd had in the wilds that she can't even kill someone she hates because she is too attached to him. even if she'd hated daryl the moment he'd jumped her, she couldn't have killed him either.
but she doesn't. herself, a little, maybe. for her own weakness. but not him. he had only taken what he'd rightfully been able to wrest from her. ]
[ He doesn't know how she doesn't. Maybe she's more forgiving than he'd be, maybe she's more able to separate the monsters inside them from who they are, or were before they arrived here. He tries to tell himself that he doesn't have to understand. He just has to accept the grace.
He doesn't know how long to hold her for either but when he finally detaches and unwinds his arms, he takes her by the shoulders and doesn't step back. ]
Maybe you should. But I'll take it.
[ He realizes that if they're stuck here and he couldn't see her anymore, he'd miss her terribly. He lets her go. ]
Did it... scar?
[ He flinches when he asks, the memories snapping through his mind before he can stop them. His teeth in her thigh, the second bite on her shoulder and collarbone that had drained her dry. He desperately hopes whatever mind-reading powers she has didn't pick those images and memory-sensations up. ]
[ it's the images themselves that make him ask. the memory. he flinches from it, yes, but the memory of the hunger is still there too. the way he'd thrilled in all of it.
did he hope he'd left his mark? was that stronger than the guilt that he might have? mavis' head tilts a little as she cranes her neck to look up at him. ]
[ That's all she has to say for him to know he shouldn't have asked. He knows Jesse had scarred, he'd seen as much afterward, but he hadn't killed Jesse. He hadn't been forced to come back like he and Mavis had. It's been examining his own body after Felipe's attack that's made him ask.
Because he is carrying new scars. Fainter than he thought they'd be, but there. ]
You ain't gotta tell me if you don't want. I shouldn't have asked.
[ And yet he had, because yes. He wants to know. He wants the truth and he doesn't want to dwell on why. ]
with the distance between them, now, mavis reaches up to unlace the tie that holds the top of her blouse closed. she untucks it and pulls it over her head in one efficient movement.
she doesn't wear anything to support her breasts. there's no need. despite the fact that he hadn't gotten a chance to see that properly out in the void, she doesn't look self conscious of her nakedness. it's just skin, and they've already determined he isn't going to hurt her.
she turns her back to him.
there are other scars β a smattering of them, different kinds, some of them faded with age. but where he'd pressed his paw down into her, where his claws had scraped and dug, there's nothing. like it hadn't happened.
she hasn't seen her back firsthand, but she'd seen her thighs. it's an easy guess, and much easier to demonstrate rather than have to find words for when words always require a higher lift for her. she's still so unused to actually communicating with other people, still getting used to the sound of her own voice. ]
[ At first Daryl doesn't realize what she's doing, but the moment he does he looks away, clearly flustered. It's the last thing he was expecting her to do and it isn't until Mavis has turned around to show him her back that he glances at her, cautious and embarrassed for the both of them.
It's a good thing she can't see how pink his neck has gotten.
There are scars, he can see them immediately, but what he's afraid of seeing isn't there. The wounds he remembers so sharply being put there are gone, but the scars that remain remind him of his own a little with their random placements, ages and depths. He has to shake his head to remember to look away again from the sleek slope of her back and he takes a polite step away from her as he does. ]
'm glad.
[ Is he? If there's nothing to show for their horrific memories, how are they supposed to carry them? Without proof, what's the point of pain? It's a confusing thought when he'd have given so much back home for his friends to benefit from the same erasure. ]
If they're keepin' us here... it's the least she can do.
[ no proof of her weakness. the other scars were from battles won and hardships overcome. they are marks of honor and resiliency. not from the one that bested her.
she turns towards him again as she pulls her shirt back on. despite not being able to see him then, she'd heard and felt plenty. ]
[ Yeah, she had. He supposes that he hadn't hidden that very well, but he's never been good at pretending to be anything but who he is. He keeps his eyes averted until he knows she's got her top tied back on, then he offers her a half-shrug and an undeniably shy glance. ]
It's fine. Ain't like I don't deserve it.
[ He just hadn't been expecting it, but it doesn't seem as though she'd done it to throw him off on purpose. ]
I don't believe that. [ she hadn't done it to punish him. ] We've been naked together before.
[ not in the void. but then, she recalls, he'd been uncomfortable then too. she would have thought even the people who were uneasy with that originally would have gotten past it here, with the festivals being like they are.
not daryl, though. he may be the person she knows with the strongest sense of who he is. it'll take more than that to change him. more than death, too, she hopes. ]
[ She isn't wrong but the blunt way she states it almost guts him with embarrassment. It's almost like being naked in front of her all over again. ]
Yeah. But I've been tryin' to forget that day. When we didn't have a choice.
[ It's different when he has a choice, but even those moments are few and far between with Daryl. His shyness goes much deeper than even just the physical. ]
[ she shifts her weight. it feels stupid to apologize for something like making him remember that, all things considered. it will probably be a while yet before she apologizes to daryl for anything.
but it's clear she hadn't meant to thrust it upon him unwelcome, from her awkward lingering. ]
Those clothes don't suit you. [ she changes the subject inexpertly, pointing to the clothes that the duchess had provided them with to leave. to replace the ones that had been destroyed in their death. ]
[ He isn't expecting an apology. He doesn't wait on shit like that and he'd said it to be honest, not to guilt her. But Daryl recognizes an awkward subject change when he hears it and for once he isn't the only one ruining a conversation.
He can't help but smirk a little, glancing down at the softness and embroidery. ]
They don't, huh? [ Obviously they don't. ] What sorta clothes do?
[ He really hasn't found anything that suits him here, but is this like the opposite of when that girl with the green hair had told him he looked like a person who would own a dog? ]
[ she's never seen work overalls before coming here, but she already knows to associate with people who can't be yanking their pants up all the time because they're busy doing manual labor. that's daryl.
[ Before Rubilykskoye, Daryl had gotten by on maintaining the same hard-used clothes for years. He'd think she was reading his mind, if not for the mention of something that sounds like suspenders or something. that's only in the spin-off. ]
You ain't wrong. But belts are more useful. They're good for more'n holdin' up your pants, in a pinch.
[ Tourniquets, to say the least. Hard to cut an infected limb off if you've only got it tied with suspenders. ]
I lost... what I was wearin' when we left, all my gear. I didn't leave much with Jesse. [ He shrugs, then sits down on the edge of the one bed. ] Gotta start over again.
[ she tries to imagine another use for a belt. looks at his briefly, doing some kind of mental calculations. while he may be thinking tourniquet, she's thinking garrote. eventually, she tips her head in acknowledgment, which turns slowly into a nod. yes, he's right. that's useful. ]
The hunting lodge can give you good work clothes in exchange for kills. [ she moves to the other bed, pulls her feet up onto it and crosses her legs. ] What else did you lose?
[ He isn't going to say no, but he doubts she can make him a tool that will last. He's never been one to use a bow like Carol's and he uses his knives too often and too hard to use tools made from rock. ]
They know me now. [ He hasn't considered that that might be a hinderance now, as much as anything else. ] We'll see if they'll still trade with me.
Knife. Bow. [ she shrugs her shoulder. ] What else do you need?
[ these are the hallmarks of any good kuruko's kit, anyway. skill with either would keep you safe and feed you and yours, give you a place among the hunters and warriors of the clan. ]
[ It would be cleaner than the way he'd been trimming Jesse's beard and his own before he'd lost all his knives, even his skinning tools. Somehow he still hadn't thought to buy a razorblade for himself so he hadn't even had one to lose. ]
Once I got a crossbow again, I always need more bolts.
[ Though anything not tipped with iron won't be very useful. ]
[ she picks at the dead skin beside her nail beds. you'd think that if the duchess was going to resurrect people, heal up their old wounds, that you'd come back with undamaged nail beds. fewer callouses. no dead skin.
maybe this is proof that john and ari are right. that she's just mavis, still, no matter how it feels. ]
Complicated. [ she acknowledges. ] But he came back.
[ he'd been the one to leave in the first place. mavis isn't in the business of leaving if she isn't forced to. she doesn't know how to segue between these thoughts. ]
He is too weak to be alone. [ she says this dismissively instead. how pitiful he'd been about missing her. how he'd held her. she can't admit most of it, so she just falls back on the old stand-by that felipe is embarrassing. ]
[ Her awkwardness with this, when she's so frank about so much else, reminds him of Lydia once again. Of the girl's resistance to so much of the gentleness of civilization, after breaking free of her people.
And that comment about weakness? Lydia, up and down. It's enough to put a slight, knowing smile on his face. ]
You like him.
[ The smirk can be heard in the statement. ]
You're allowed to, y'know. If he really ain't such an asshole. He did kill me for you, an' all.
[ Somehow he's able to say it without the stab of guilt cutting him in half. ]
[ she reaches for the nearby pillow and throws it at him. fuck off with that.
she isn't laughing, merely flustered by his amusement. but she sits with it for a silent moment after that, and then stretches out onto her back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. ]
He betrayed me. [ this gets its own space. ] I felt stupid. I trusted him. [ she settles her hands on her abdomen. ] Then he left. I felt stupid again. He didn't care about me.
[ she huffs out a breath. ]
He came back and made me stupid three ways. [ she looks over at daryl, smiling now a little. stupid, this time, for thinking he hadn't cared. he was a coward, yes, but stronger than she gave him credit for, given what he'd done to daryl for her, and given how he'd held her and come back to her and apologized. ]
[ The pillow projectile only magnifies his grin and Daryl catches it, but barely. He throws it back but not with the intention that she had.
He doesn't rush her, he works in the silence as well as she does. ]
Okay, well. I'll punch him for ya.
[ He gets how that would make a person feel like they were being yanked around. He still doesn't understand the details of the problems and he'll never forget finding his camp deserted, but Felipe just seems harmless to Daryl, even now. Even after everything. ]
I think he does care about you. 'm pretty sure he's just the stupid one.
[ she laughs. it feels good. even if she seldom does it, it feels like her in a way that she has struggled with since leaving the castle. she rolls onto her side, taking the thrown pillow and tucking it under her head. she stares across the space at daryl. ]
Do not punch him. He is too fragile. [ and dumb, yes. but at least she feels better having articulated the complexity of it. he doesn't quite grasp the ins and outs, but the general pattern seems to have conveyed, and that's better than mavis expected.
[ He's never seen that before, her laughing. It's the last thing he's expecting during their first conversation after the void, after their resurrection. He could swear parts of him still hurt.
But there it is. It makes him laugh too. ]
Alright.
[ If she wants to catch some sleep he isn't going to doze, but when Mavis gets comfortable Daryl pulls his legs up and lays out on his back. The ceiling is the safest place to look before he lets his eyes close. A rest won't kill him. ]
But he steals you again, an' he's gettin' punched.
[ she huffs this out. after a beat though, she accepts, ] You can too.
[ just as long as they both understand that it's not on behalf of, not for, not a substitute for her own anger. she needs no representative to act on her behalf. ]
[ he still thinks this is too good to be true β but reaches out for him anyway. scared, worried and hopeful. if Daryl is back living in the woods, he swears he's going to kill him. again. ]
[ Jesse has helped him gather the edges of his mind a little since coming back to life, but only a little. He knows it's Felipe, he remembers him, and at least the memories that flash back to him are his own pain, not anyone else's. ]
Boarding house.
[ The roof, to be exact, where he spends most of his time just sitting and staring and trying not to think too much. At night, before he passes out and falls off, he slips back down to Jesse. ]
[ He can't stop him and more than that, Daryl doesn't want to. He doesn't want much of anything these days. He hasn't been able to since being knit back together in this prison. ]
[ if he delays this meeting for another second, he might avoid it for the rest of his life (and that'd be awkward), so he rushes to the roof. a cold fear is already settling in his chest when he wonders what Daryl could be doing up there. ]
What are you doing?
[ he calls out when he spots the man. seeing him feels surreal after believing that he was dead for days. Felipe climbs over the roof to join him but leaves some distance between them, not even knowing himself why. ]
[ And he is, up near the crown instead of at the edge like Felipe must have thought he might be, judging by his expression now. Daryl still doesn't know what to think of him after everything he's learned and everything that happened, but all just is what it is, isn't it?
And none of them are going anywhere. ]
Relax. [ He isn't stupid. He knows what Felipe is probably still thinking. ] Hurts too much comin' back. Don't recommend it.
[ how could it not hurt? it's unnatural, wrong and it involves magic. he despises it and yet he's glad that it's happened, relieved that Daryl is back. Felipe makes an awkward grunt in response as he climbs a little closer, almost breaking a sweat since it's difficult to move with a bunch of stitches decorating his side. ]
Making me climb up here... [ he mutters quietly, just filling the silence. Daryl, you could have reached out? it's a little rude. he looks to the other man, wants to reach out to him, but can't bring himself to do it. ] I saw Mavis.
[ Daryl doesn't even turn to watch him climb over. He just keeps staring out over the roofs of the town, looking like he's seeing everything and nothing. ]
Yeah. I saw her too.
[ And somehow, against all odds, she hadn't been afraid of him. Not any more than he's afraid of Felipe now. Understanding what happened is a horror all in itself but it also brings a sort of numb calm that Daryl is clinging to.
He finally turns his head to watch Felipe struggle and then glances at his favored side. ]
[ sighing deeply, Felipe takes a seat next to him and turns his attention to the view. it's convenient. they don't have to look each other in the eye. ]
I did worse.
[ a curt reply since he feels guilty and his vanity can't deal with being seen as weak. back at home he was the one hanging out on roofs, taking stupid risks leaping from one building to the next. now he's just a shadow of himself. not that he blames Daryl for any of that, it's all his own fault. ]
You know why I'm here, don't you?
[ they're the only people here who really know what happened in the forest. Felipe has been planning apologies in his head ever since, but now that he actually has an audience for them, he doesn't know where to start. ]
[ Daryl nods slightly at that. Yeah, he had done worse, and he's damn glad for it. It had stopped him. He has no idea if he would have been able to stop himself after what he did, if it maybe wouldn't have just started up all over again. Instead, Felipe killed him, and it was just over. ]
Nope.
[ He doesn't know, not really. He can make an assumption, and maybe Felipe wants him to, so he does. ]
If it's to apologize, you ain't gotta. If it's to push me off for Mavis... [ He shrugs. ] Do what you gotta do.
She already punched me once, I don't want to know how she'd react if I did that.
[ pretty sure he already got back at him for Mavis. if that even counts as payback because neither of them was responsible for their actions at the time. but Daryl guessed right. ]
I want to apologize. [ it's as much as for him as it's for Daryl. he hopes that Daryl understands. ] Will you let me do that? Properly?
[ That gets a very slight raised eyebrow out of him, but he can't say he's surprised. Whatever had gone on between Felipe and her when she'd disappeared out of Daryl's camp is their business if she wants to keep it that way. She does seem like the punching type.
But the next look Felipe gets from Daryl is flat and non-plussed. A proper apology? ]
What, you gonna curtsy? [ But even the joke doesn't have barbs. He sighs and just looks off over the rooftops again for a moment. ]
Alright. Say it if you gotta. I ain't gonna stop you.
[ dismissive. there's already a lot of history between him and Mavis and they've only been here for weeks. funny how time flies when you're messy as hell. ]
You aren't? [ Daryl better hold on to that promise because there's not going to be a warning as Felipe turns around to face him and pulls him into a hug, so tight it has to be uncomfortable for them both. one way to make this count. ] Listen. I'm so fucking... sorry.
[ Okay, he actually wasn't expecting the hug for some reason. Daryl grunts at being suddenly pulled into it but he instantly tries to account for Felipe's wounded side by putting no pressure on it. That leaves them slightly unbalanced on the roof and Daryl has to put a hand down on the shingles, leaving just one arm to hang awkwardly by his side at first, confused. ]
You don't-- like I said, man. You ain't gotta be sorry. I owe you.
[ So he finally wraps his other arm around Felipe, returning the gesture of the hug with a dose of thanks. ]
You... stopped me, is what y'did. From hurtin' anyone else.
[ he lets the hug linger on for another moment. presses his face into Daryl's shoulder and shakes his head in response. who was Daryl going to hurt in the forest anyway? he could have turned back even without Felipe interfering. maybe he was already on his way back to himself? ]
No. That's not how it went.
[ it was nothing but blind rage and violence. intense feelings he's now ashamed of. his grip of the other man tightens as he shifts his center closer to him so that they don't lose their balance and fall off. ]
[ He's way better at hugs now than he used to be and he lets Felipe get comfortable for a solid few seconds before he starts trying to pull away. Then he feels Felipe holding tighter and Daryl pats him between the shoulder blades instead, just letting it continue.
His friends used to hug him like this sometimes. It isn't the worst thing. ]
How'd it go, then?
[ He doesn't have to ask very loudly. ]
'Cause from what I remember, I fought back. It... wasn't done for me.
[ but that could have been just because Felipe riled him up again. ]
I think you saw me as a threat. Attacked me because I...
[ he lets out a ragged exhale. there's a heavy feeling in his chest sucking out all the air when he thinks back on what happened. he wishes he could concentrate on Daryl's arms instead. ]
[ That finally gets Daryl to put back properly. He shivers and it's almost like a flinch, the way he quickly withdraws because the sense memory that follows Felipe's explanation is so strong. The damage he'd done to her, the way he'd been prepared to protect the body. To...
He can't look at him. ]
I deserved it.
[ He feels like he deserved worse. That he still deserves worse. He should still be being punished; for what he did to her when he transformed, for getting them all out there in the first place. For everything. ]
You two would never have been out there if it weren't for me. It was my fault.
[ Daryl nods, but the movement is tight. He lets it sit and tries to accept that the darkest things he's ever done are the sort of things that are still forgivable here. It isn't exactly a reassuring thought.
But if death isn't the consequence it used to be, why should that be out of the question? He wouldn't wish resurrection on anyone but he's here to listen to Felipe's apology. If they're trapped, at least this one thing is given to them. ]
I couldn't accept that we're... stuck. But we are.
[ He reaches up and clasps Felipe's hand on his shoulder, squeezing it for a moment. For once, the last thing he'll be able to stand in the coming days is being alone. ]
[ Felipe makes a small noise in agreement. there's no way out of here, at least not for now, but maybe there are worse places one could find themselves in. ]
Are you okay?
[ he finally draws the hand back to himself, but pauses to watch Daryl. the resurrection process raises some questions, but he's not sure if he's curious enough to learn about it. best to go before he finds his mouth moving on its own as it usually does. ]
I should return to Mavis. I don't want her to be alone. You can come too, if you like.
[ It's the only response he's had to give that question for over a decade. He's going to be okay, eventually, because he has to be. That's all there is to surviving. ]
Nah. [ He answers quickly though, shakes his head. ] She shouldn't have to look at me right now. Not for a while.
[ Felipe understands. he wishes that he didn't, but it is what it is. he nods and gets up, holding his side because the wound started throbbing painfully again. ]
Try not to fall off the roof.
[ he jokes, but the look he gives Daryl is dead serious. ]
[ He could kiss you for rolling with it right now. ]
You said the whole world was gone β were there any holdouts? Groups of survivors? What about the military? What was life like? Did you stay in one place or move around?
[ John absolutely isn't counting, like maybe he can sneak past twenty without either of them realizing. ]
That implies a measure of sentience, or social cohesion. I have... a lot of questions about that, but you don't strike me as the scientific figures type. No offense, mate.
[ The question feels like a blade has made contact. For a long time, no answer comes through. It probably seems like Daryl has dropped the connection, gone to sleep, or any number of things. ]
Yeah. A lot.
Didn't think I'd be able to live without em.
[ But he doesn't have a choice here. That's the whole problem. ]
Her Grace agreed she would let House leave the castle if I took his punishment. So I'm still there. Mostly playing statue. Sometime finding out if there really is anything that can kill me.
Yeah. Though I've been severing the nerves in my spine so I don't feel any of it, that tends to last until I pass out.
[ Or die. Either way he comes back to agony. It's all messy-swimmy in his head, he couldn't really speak to what has been done to him today or a week ago or what was just whispered through that porcelain fucking mask. Mostly he stays sane through this telepathic connection, just closing his eyes and pretending he's somewhere else, chatting, away from it all. ]
Look, we probably could have both spent a little time in the art gallery and gone home with everyone else, but House doesn't handle paralysis well. I mean, not that anyone does. But he's got some hang-ups around being helpless like that.
[ John would rather be tortured to death repeatedly than have to stand by watching House live through being a free use statue, so he made the Duchess an offer she was more than happy to accept. ]
Then when I demonstrated I'm hard to poison she took an extra special interest. At this point it's past punishment and more like she's experimenting.
[ He doesn't know why it all spills out. Not like he told literally anybody else any of this, has hedged around why he's here, why he hasn't fought back. It's something about the intimacy of midnight confidences, combined with the sense of Daryl as somewhat stalwart, able to handle this information without getting all emotional on him. ]
[ Stalwart, yes. More than John has even assumed. But emotionless? No, not after he'd spent the night paralyzed like John had saved House from. Like John had been before whatever is happening to him now. The fact that he would do that for someone, that he would take on torture on top of that to save someone what Daryl had gone through, it tears at him a little.
John has him after this. ]
So she's probably listening, too. [ The bitch. It means they're limited in what they can really say. ] I didn't see you there. Must have been outta my eyeline.
[ Or he'd been put there after Jesse had fixed his tie around Daryl's eyes as a blindfold, the only way Daryl had been able to block out some of the horrors in the room. A bandaid when he'd needed an amputation. ]
[ A fact he is very slightly glad for - on the one hand, it did mean the staff who had been too busy working during the dinner had come to find he was one of their few remaining outlets. On the other hand, it meant not very many people he knows saw him like that, and he's not in a hurry to talk about it. Better to emphasize the torture and experimentation and the fucking spiders than... any of that.
Better to laugh it off and pretend he liked it. ]
I'm pretty sure she can hear everything, no matter what we do.
[ She's so powerful, in ways that he doesn't understand. It's like spending his life learning wine and being given a jug of vodka, he can tell there's stronger power there but all the complexities escape him. ]
But I don't have a lot of choice. So she can listen to twenty questions, and town gossip, and the Iron Bull thrashing me at chess.
[ That eavesdropping, it's exactly what Daryl has been worried about all this time, why he doesn't trust the psychic way of communication they'd been given as soon as they got here. No one just gives something like that without there being a catch. It would be the perfect way for her to keep an eye on her pets. ]
Alright, well.
You can ask more than twenty if you want.
[ There's a hint of dry, gallows humour that trickles through from him as well. It isn't the first time Daryl has had to find a way to make light of a hopeless situation to help out someone else. ]
You two gotta be close to take a fall like this.
You knew him before?
[ Usually Daryl wouldn't ask. Private lives are private and even when people share with him, he takes it as it is and doesn't ask for more. But obviously, the guy needs to talk tonight. ]
[ Compared to his long life he's known House a fraction of an instant. But the trauma bonding in this place is off the charts. ]
Spent every day together since. He reminds me of life before everything went bad.
[ In the days before the world ended. When doctors worked in hospitals, when magic only happened on tv. ]
I don't want this place to break him.
[ He can't save everyone this time, but he can pick one person, one awful fragile human who plays guitar and makes John laugh, and shield him from as much of it as he can. ]
[ Shit. It's so similar that it twists and keeps him silent for longer than he means to be. For a long time, he debates not saying anything. The Duchess doesn't need to know he has a weakness here. Nobody does, not her, not Leah, not this strange man he's talking to now.
But John has shared something that seems terribly fucking personal and Daryl knows the value and honour in vulnerability. ]
I got one of those here, too.
[ That's as much as he can do. It's a lot. But there's another offer he can make that comes much easier. ]
You let me know if you ever need help keeping that from happening. I owe you.
[ He'll keep chatting a little for the next hour or so, mostly idle questions about infrastructure, if walkers ever rotted away to nothing, what kind of food Daryl ate during the apocalypse - maybe asking for camping tips, getting him talking about hunting and knives rather than anything personal. Interested in Daryl's passions as much as someone else's world, so different to his other despite all the ways it was the same. ]
[ always there to make things difficult. Felipe sounds reluctant to talk about this. he's so uncomfortable imagining what's next in store for Mavis after he saw how brutal the fight got. fuck. someone should do something. ]
From what I understood they go way back and he hates her guts. He'll make her life a living hell.
He came after me while you were in the castle. Lifted me on the wall like it was nothing. And I just saw a knife being shoved into and out of his skull.
Every minute with him β she's going to suffer, Daryl. Or worse.
[ Shit, how many healers are floating around this place?
It isn't until Felipe says he'll talk to her that two-and-two clicks for Daryl: she'd survived but she hasn't said shit to him about it yet. Maybe she isn't going to. ]
She even allowed to talk to us anymore?
[ It isn't like he knows any of the stupid rules this fight was conducted by. ]
[ After stumbling back from the castle together, traumatized and spent, Jesse hadn't known what to think. Their first time together could be explained away - Daryl's monster form taking over, taking Jesse whether either of them wanted it or not. The second time, not so much. And then tonight? It's not just that he'd stuck with Daryl, or everything that had happened in the gallery and afterwards. They'd both said some stuff - thought some stuff - that has Jesse feeling overwhelemed. Vulnerable. But in a good way, almost. He doesn't regret it, at least, apart from the fact that it had happened the way it had, that Daryl had been captured and punished like that.
They don't say much that night, just fall into bed wrapped around each other the way they have been for weeks, the way that's become a habit without Jesse noticing. And then nothing much changes for a little while. Jesse bounces early the next morning, needing to clear his head for a little while, and when he's back Daryl's gone. He comes back smelling like booze, but he comes back that night and every other - sometimes with fresh-cut firewood or small animals he'd caught and skinned out in the woods, sometimes with nothing but a hangover to show for it - but always returning to curl up and sleep together. Just sleep, nothing else.
Jesse wakes up one morning a few weeks later, opening his eyes to gaze at the sunlight streaming in the tiny window. Daryl's still got one arm slung heavy over his waist, but he's awake. Jesse somehow just knows. And suddenly he knows with just as much clarity that he doesn't wanna spend the day kicking around town by himself, avoiding both the tavern and the woods to give Daryl the space he hasn't asked for but clearly wants. He doesn't wanna wait for him to trudge in late at night from wherever he's spending his days and fall in bed together without talking. ]
Hey.
[ He speaks just loud enough for Daryl to hear, not looking back at him. ]
[ He likes to lie very still like this for a while after waking up. He doesn't do it when he's on his own, he hates to lie with his thoughts for longer than he has to. Dawn wakes him and that's that, then he's on his feet until he's too tired to keep moving anymore and rest is no longer a choice. He's only ever done it with Leah, the rare times he'd spent the whole night in the same broken old bed as her. He'd assumed he'd forgotten how.
It's the only sliver of time in the day that he feels at peace in this place. Listening to Jesse breathe steadily, feeling the warmth of his slow heartbeat as he sleeps. It's the last moments before they get up and part ways that he knows the both of them are safe.
He'd brought the smell of woodsmoke from preserving a kill into their bed with him when he'd 'forgotten' to take off his shirt for the tenth time and it lingers with them now. He's been thinking that he's been getting away with this quiet strategy for all this time but then Jesse stirs and speaks to him without looking. Like he knows exactly what Daryl's been doing.
It's a little unsettling. Daryl shifts slightly, distinctly unaware that they've never actually talked while wrapped up together like this. Especially not first thing in the morning. Like a lazy fucking Sunday. ]
[ He has just enough time to second-guess himself before Daryl speaks. Maybe it's a stupid idea. Maybe Daryl just wants to be alone in the woods, doesn't want to spend time with Jesse except when they're sleeping at night.
But Daryl doesn't say no, and despite himself, Jesse's heartbeat quickens a little in anticipation. Hope, maybe. ]
I dunno.
[ He can't leave it like that, though, can't risk losing Daryl's interest so soon, so he races to think up some idea before he just changes his mind and decides to fuck off to the woods again instead. ]
We could just...walk around town? See what's up? Like...people watch. Eat some food that's not squirrel.
[ There's a pause. ]
No offense, I mean, the squirrel's really, really good, but, y'know. Something different could be good too.
[ He is indeed thinking about the woods, about the plans he'd had for the day and how he's still missing so many of the supplies and tools he'd managed to collect before making his try for the void and how he doesn't yet have the inventory to trade for them back... But as fast as the thoughts come, the same answer that's been pointing him towards the tavern almost as often as not follows suit: what's the rush?
What's the point if he can't get out? ]
You wanna go for a walk. An' get lunch.
[ Deadpan, like he's making sure he's translated Jesse's idea of the day correctly. ]
Alright.
[ He sits up, like it's that simple, and then he pretends like his heart isn't beating sort of funny while he climbs over Jesse to start digging in his pack for a fresh(ish) shirt. ]
[ It sounds boring as hell when he says it like that, and Jesse tenses, ready to get laughed at and already trying to figure out how to walk the whole idea back without looking like a dumbass. But then Daryl agrees, of all things, and he's left looking like a dumbass anyway, just lying there staring while Daryl climbs right over him and starts digging through his bag. ]
Really?
[ Shit, really. His heart starts beating faster too, thumping with unexpected excitement, only for it all to come crashing down a second later. He balks at Daryl's joke, misinterpreting it for a moment before remembering that Daryl hadn't been at dinner at the castle and realizing what he really means. ]
Ha ha. Fuckin' hilarious.
[ But he doesn't really mind the dig, not when Daryl's already pulling on a fresh shirt, clearly willing to go along with him. Jesse scrambles out of bed and starts rummaging around for clean clothes of his own, shooting sidelong glances at Daryl the whole time. It's not a big deal, just wandering around the tiny village and finding something to eat. So why's he suddenly nervous? He finds himself rambling, like he's trying to win Daryl over even though he'd already said yes. ]
There's this cafe, they got the most amazing fuckin' pastries. The fuckin' bomb, you, you've never had anything like 'em.
[ Something about that surprised little 'really?' punches Daryl straight in the heart. It makes it sound as though Jesse either hadn't expected Daryl to say yes, that he'd thought being together during the day would be out of line, or maybe... he's just used to rejection. Both possibilities make Daryl pick the cleanest shirt he has left and since Jesse has seen him naked so many times already, has explored everything Daryl has to hide with fascinated hands, he just pulls off his smoke-scented old shirt and changes right in front of him. ]
Usually not much for sweet stuff.
[ But it sounds dismissive as soon as he says it and Daryl turns back around quickly once he's dressed, shrugging a little. Trying to keep calm and chill like this is all totally normal.
Because getting lunch with your friend is totally normal. ]
[ Oh. It feels like another miss, another way in which this is just a bad idea all around and nothing Daryl's going to enjoy. But Daryl immediately pulls it back, says he'll try it, and Jesse has to hide his own tiny smile by quickly grabbing a shirt and pulling it on over his head. ]
Cool.
[ Even once he's dressed, though, he still can't quite keep that hint of a smile off his face, sneaking sidelong glances at Daryl as he opens the door. ]
You been around town much?
[ Other than the bar and the boarding house, he's not sure how much Daryl has even seen. ]
[ He knows he's being watched, he doesn't even need to look straight at Jesse to catch that conspiratorial little smile, so he makes a point of not looking at him while he gathers up a roll of pelts for trading and packs them into the bag he's bringing with him. If he's buying the kid something, he's gotta pay for it somehow, right? ]
Not more'n I needed to.
[ Not more than was useful to him while he was trading for the things he needed and then packing up to make his run through the void. He knows his way around, he even knows the business that Jesse is talking about, but he hasn't visited any of them. He'd never been planning to stay long enough for it to matter. He'd fed himself and kept to himself and that had been that.
He tries not to let the train of thought darken his mood too much and he slaps Jesse genially on the back as he moves past him through the doorway. He even forces up a tight but genuine smile to give him. ]
[ Yeah, that's kind of what he'd thought. Daryl doesn't seem like the window-shopping type. But Jesse just nods, not judging. Almost more excited than before, in fact. Daryl not being that familiar with the town gives Jesse a chance to show off the parts he liked, gives them a chance to discover the rest together.
It's stupid, really, how much he's suddenly looking forward to this. But he hasn't done anything like it - gone out exploring a new place just to see it, just to spend time with someone else - since he went up to Santa Fe with Jane. It's been a long, long time. When Daryl gives him a cheerful pat on the back, it's just the cherry on top, the push Jesse needs to tip right over into happy. ]
Guess you don't.
[ It's almost chipper, a goofy grin on his face that more than makes up for the strain in Daryl's own expression. He clatters energetically down the stairs and out the door, stopping outside to give Daryl a chance to catch up with him and falling easily into step beside him. ]
Is there anything you wanna see? [ Like...? He scrunches up his face, thinking. ] Hunting...supply stores, or anything?
[ It's like following an excited kid downstairs and out the door and Daryl is struck silent by the sheer difference between this young man and the one he'd met on their first day in the woods. The one that had shaken and cried and clung to him, who had smelled like the world had forgotten him. Something soft in his chest aches when he thinks about it so he pushes it away once they're outside in the sun.
It isn't an accident, he thinks, Jesse bouncing back like this. He's a survivor.
But of a different type from Daryl, evidently. That's also been clear from the very start. ]
You don't know the first thing 'bout huntin', do you?
[ But there's such fondness in the question because Daryl knows what the offer really is. He wants to do what Daryl wants to do. It's sweet. It scares him a little. ]
I dunno. [ He hesitates, not sure if he wants to admit what he'd really like to do. ] I saw a place that looked like it was full of books.
[ Nope, he sure doesn't. Jesse grins shamelessly, shrugging his shoulders. It's true. He doesn't really care what they do, as long as they're out here. As long as they're walking in the sunshine, spending the day together, and Daryl's happy.
Bu even so, the suggestion Daryl does offer is so unexpected, so the last possible thing Jesse would ever have either expected from him or thought to look for himself, it yanks him back a step. ]
Books?
[ He says the word like he's never heard it before. Daryl might as well have suggested they go find a store full of eels, or sawdust shavings. But he catches himself almost instantly, before Daryl can get self-conscious or try to walk it back, and nods enthusiastically, his expression clearing. ]
Yeah. Oh, yeah, I think I saw that one. It's down this way.
[ Definitely a bookstore down this street, definitely not somewhere he'd ever so much as slowed down in front of up until now. But he leads the way confidently, shooting a curious look at Daryl. ]
[ He doesn't seem like the hunting type, Daryl had of course not needed that confirmed for him, but a second later he can almost hear the sound of a record scratching -- that's how obviously Jesse does a double-take beside him.
He feels a little self-conscious stab in his chest, something that he'd thought he'd left behind a long time ago. Other people's opinions of him, assumptions. It's uncomfortable, unbalancing. He knows what he looks like, but does he need to be reminded? ]
What? You got somethin' to say about it?
[ It's only a little accusing. Mostly he sounds disappointed, though he can't get a handle on the feeling. Maybe he's even a shade of hurt. ]
I spend plenty of time alone. [ He shrugs, watching the street instead of Jesse now. ] It's nice.
[ Had Daryl thought he was judging him for reading? No, Jesse realizes a beat later, catching the unhappy look on Daryl's face, the way his shoulders have hunched slightly upward defensively. He'd thought he was just...judging him. Like someone like Daryl couldn't possibly have hobbies like reading.
It's enough to make him stop in his tracks in front of Daryl, turning to face him so he has to stop too and meet Jesse's eyes. ]
No, man. It's not that. It's just - [ He shrugs, and now it's Jesse's turn to feel self-conscious, looking away. What if Daryl thinks he's stupid, or not worth his time? Just a worthless druggie, with no interests beyond chasing the next high. ]
I just...always thought it was kinda boring.
[ "Kinda" is an understatement. He can't think of anything he'd like less to do with his time. Reading. For fun. ]
[ Daryl's only strategy is to avoid uncomfortable confrontations like these but Jesse rounds on him and brings him to a stop like he's a damn cop cruiser. Daryl pulls up short and straightens up, blinking at him when Jesse looks down the street right after calling a halt to traffic.
He relaxes, rolling his eyes because yeah, he hadn't made much of a thing of it before the the walkers had changed everything. Drinking was better, drugs were the best, and if Merle had ever caught him with a book, that would have been it for Daryl - all he would have heard about for a year. Darlina, the book worm. On and on.
Nah, he's learned to enjoy it. So he just shrugs. ]
You learn to like a lot of borin' stuff durin' the end of the world. And after, when there's nothin' left.
[ And then he just steps past him and walks on, like he hasn't just opened an insane door wide for Jesse to walk through. ]
[ Jesse's already trying to justify it to himself. He doesn't know a ton about Daryl's past, but he knows, or can assume, he hadn't had a lot of money growing up. He probably hadn't had a Playstation in the house. Or...a Nintendo? Would those have been around when he was a kid?
He might not even have had a TV. So yeah, in the lack of any real entertainment options, Jesse can kind of see it. And then Daryl keeps talking and Jesse's left standing there, mouth open, just staring at Daryl as he walks past like he hadn't just dropped the biggest bombshell Jesse's ever heard. ]
What?
[ He finally remembers how to move, half-jogging to catch up with Daryl, ambling along like everything's normal. Had he heard that right? He couldn't have, right? ]
[ He's been aware for a long time that Jesse doesn't know the details about where Daryl comes from. He's told others here, even details in some cases, but it's never really come up with Jesse, not even when he was telling him about why he had to leave. It's dawning on him now, as Jesse rushes to catch up with him, that maybe he might have understood the situation better if Daryl had told him more.
Imagine that. ]
When the dead started comin' back to life. [ He shrugs, pure nonchalance. It's been so many years that none of it feels or sounds fantastic to him anymore. ] Power went fast. Radio stayed, of course, but there were no broadcasts or nothin'.
But they bombed the cities fast. Everything felt different after that.
[ Just walking, chatting, like he's talking about construction that happened in his hometown. ]
[ He stares at Daryl, disbelieving, just this side of indignant - but also just a little bit uncertain. It's not the kind of joke he can see Daryl making, especially out of nowhere like this. Bombing cities? He wouldn't joke about that.
But it also can't be real, what he's saying. Because it doesn't make any sense. It's impossible, and if it wasn't, Daryl wouldn't be talking about it like this, like it's nothing. ]
Yo, knock it off, come on. I think it's cool. That you read.
[ He only wishes he could see the appeal itself. It sure would've made school a lot less boring. Maybe he wouldn't have turned out like such a major fuckup, disappointed his parents and everyone else. But there's no reason for Daryl to make all this up just to justify it, or mess with Jesse for his reaction. ]
[ But it feels strangely difficult for him to elaborate. Most people here had been either primed to believe him already or outright interested in knowing more. Mavis had seemed confused but open-minded, John had wanted to know everything.
Jesse just seems to think it's impossible for some reason. Daryl's allergy to going into unasked-for detail is rearing its ugly head. ]
No. You don't.
[ But he's settled about it, isn't taking it as personally now that he understands where Jesse's disbelief had been coming from. It makes sense that he wouldn't be into reading. How many meth dealers has Daryl ever met who carried a book with them? ]
[ But he can only sound so convincing. Cool is pushing it a little, after all. Or a lot. The point is, he doesn't think Daryl's less cool because of it.
The bigger question is this end of the world thing. This dead coming to life thing. He keeps pace with Daryl, head turned to stare at him instead of watching where he's going. It's a wonder he doesn't run straight into a wall or something and knock himself out. ]
Who bombed what cities?
[ There's still a tinge of uncertainty in his voice - he doesn't want to fall for anything like a gullible asshole. But he just can't figure out why Daryl would lie about something like that, either. ]
[ Daryl knows broadly where he's going, he had only passed the place with the books once while making his map of the town, but he's content to walk in silence and let the kid figure out if he wants to ask any more on his own. He knows he's being stared at but he only gives Jesse a considering glance once he's formed his question. ]
You really wanna know?
[ It pains him a little, to think that Jesse might not believe him. He doesn't want to lay it out and show all his broken cards from a slow-healing world if Jesse isn't even going to understand. ]
Military. [ As far as he knows, anyway. ] They used napalm, tryin' to take out walkers, or maybe people. Tryin' to keep them from becomin' walkers. [ He shrugs. ] It didn't work. Cities were hotspots for years.
[ It sounds like the plot to some dumb horror movie, but Daryl's so serious about it that Jesse almost has no choice but to believe him. He keeps his gaze on Daryl's face even when the other man's looking at the path ahead instead of him, trying to read his expression. Or, since this is Daryl, his almost total lack thereof.
The thing is, it kind of makes sense, with what he knows about Daryl. The way he'd naturally gravitated towards setting up camp in the woods, easily dismissing the modern (well, modern-ish) conveniences offered in town. How good he is at hunting. At surviving on almost nothing. Like he's been doing it for years.
Like someone living after the end of the world would. ]
[ That's enough to get a grimace out of Daryl but he's pacified to hear that Jesse isn't accusing him of being a liar anymore. It almost ends up being a comical expression as a result. ]
Why does everyone keep usin' that word?
[ He's heard everything under the sun that a survivor could think to call the dead come back to life, but not until that green-haired girl in the rain had called his life some cheap horror movie has he heard that word before. ]
It doesn't describe nothin' they do. Biters, lamebrains, geeks. [ That had been his at first, it had never caught on. ] Skin-eaters, roamers. Lurkers, if that's what they're doin'. We called 'em walkers because you had to call 'em something.
[ Vampires, the kid means vampires, even Daryl knows that, but he just snorts and doesn't correct him. Little Miss L.A. had made it sound like zombies were a regular part of movies and shit where she came from, so he has to assume that the same thing goes for Jesse. That's how he knows some part of what Daryl's talking about.
Hell, maybe Jesse and the green-haired girl are from the same version of the world. ]
You didn't ask.
[ He quite literally hadn't. But he stops to look at Jesse properly, to let him see that Daryl is being completely serious. ]
My world... [ Shit, that will never not sound impossibly weird to Daryl, ] It was like yours. Thirteen years ago.
[ Come on. Even Daryl has to know better than that. No, neither of them have talked much about their lives before all this, but there's no way by the way, I'm straight outta Dawn of the Dead shouldn't have been number one on the list.
But Jesse stops when Daryl does, attentively listening now that Daryl's actually sharing information with him. ]
Thirteen...
[ Thirteen years. He can see it, actually. If anyone's capable of surviving over a decade in a hellish, zombie-infested wasteland, it's Daryl. ]
What's it like?
[ What kind of life has he built, thirteen years on? The words come out softer, Jesse's eyes alert and fixed on Daryl. He doesn't seem to mind talking about it, at least so far, but he doesn't want to push too hard. ]
Of all the things Daryl isn't expecting to feel after being asked the question, it's lost. How can he even start to tell him? What exactly does he want to know? What the world was like for so long, what he's done? All the impossible things he's seen people accomplish, all the horror he's learned others are capable of? All the death, the unending, ever-present threat of loss?
All of it and nothing shows on his face for a flash but when Jesse asks about his brother, Daryl looks away. Blinks to clear his eyes. How has it all hit him so fast, with just a couple of questions? ]
Nah. I lost him.
[ He swallows, trying to grind down on the rush of emotions because damn it, they're in public and there's no point in getting worked up about any of this. He's fucking stuck here, he's trapped and the only way he'll survive to finally get free is if he doesn't do this to himself. He knows that. He's been trying. ]
I was lookin' for him when I... [ Ended up here. With you. ] But I don't wanna talk about him.
[ That should be it, they should just be dropping it and moving on, but Jesse doesn't step out of his way and instead, he's looking at him and offering sympathy and Daryl has to swallow and nod just for the sake of doing something. He hasn't been talking about it with anyone because he'd wanted to avoid moments like this, but Jesse has a way of prying things out of him, he's realizing. He can be all too convincing when he wants to be.
But maybe he understands a little better now why Daryl has somewhere else he needs to be. ]
So when I left. [ Into the void, into disaster. ] It wasn't that...
[ That he'd necessarily wanted to leave him, or even that he hadn't considered taking him along. It was all just so much more complicated than he'd been able to put into words. It still is. ]
I've just gotta find him, y'know? To bring him back to his family. Like I promised I would.
[ But he reaches out and squeezes Jesse by the shoulder, his way of saying that he doesn't blame him for asking. ]
[ He gets it. He hadn't been mad before, about Daryl deciding to leave to find his brother. He'd never questioned his priorities even for a second. He'd just been hurt that Daryl hadn't thought to tell him he was going.
Jesse gives him a small smile, sad but grateful, when he squeezes his shoulder. He knows he hadn't wanted to talk about it, but Daryl hadn't snapped at him, or pushed him away. When's the last time someone had opened up to him like that? He's not sure he even knows. ]
I'm glad you're still here.
[ He says it softly, almost a confession. It's not that he'd wanted Daryl to fail, when he'd tried to escape through the void. But selfishly...he doesn't know where he'd be now, if Daryl wasn't still here with him. ]
[ Daryl isn't glad he's still here, he's tortured by it every day, but Jesse saying so hits him harder than it has a right to. It keeps him from going any further down his self-pitying whirlpool and he just blinks at Jesse, studying him. Trying to figure out why he's said that. Why they're out on a walk right now, why they've been sharing a room. A bed.
It all suddenly seems to make a stupid amount of sense. ]
You got too much faith in me.
[ He manages a little smile, small but almost shy, way too vulnerable. He balances it by shoving Jesse by the shoulder, turning him to get him moving and walking again. ]
You've only seen me fail.
[ He's failed to get out of this place, failed to keep Jesse safe, especially from himself. Failed to stay alive. Failed to recover from that on his own without clinging to Jesse for sanity. He's on a roll here, as far as he's concerned. ]
[ It aches, hearing him say that. Jesse starts walking when Daryl urges him to, but he keeps looking over at Daryl as he does, studying him.
Can he really believe that? How? Daryl's saved him, again and again. He's never stopped trying from the moment Jesse met him. Looking after people. Fighting to get back to his brother. Making a home here, hunting for food, doing everything in his power to keep the monster at bay even as it threatens to overwhelm him.
Jesse just can't see how he can really believe what he's saying. He shakes his head, his eyes sad, but he doesn't know how to even start to argue back, if Daryl's that convinced. So when he looks up and sees the sign for the bookshop overhead, he seizes onto the distraction. ]
Hey. [ He nudges Daryl's shoulder, then nods up at the sign. ] We're here.
[ The silence feels like a sliver of shade and Daryl is able to collect himself again in it as they walk. He knows he's being stared at, he can feel that burning into him at least, but still, Jesse just lets it be and that lets Daryl take a breath. Remember where he is, where they are, and all the dire weight that's connected to that. It's enough to shake the ache of the past out of him for the moment.
Enough that when Jesse points out the bookstore, he actually feels a flare of interest. It's the same place he remembers seeing and he holds the door for Jesse, comfortable enough with the businesses here that he doesn't feel the need to check for safety. But he slouches when they enter, instantly more aware of himself and making himself smaller without realizing he's doing it. The feeling of not belonging in a place like this hits him like humidity.
He lowers his voice, looking around like someone might kick him out. ]
I've never been inside before.
[ No time, no point, he'd told himself. Now he's surprised to think of all the books that have been sitting here all this time, holding information that could be important. ]
[ Jesse strolls right in, glancing around curiously. To his disappointment, the store really does seem to sell nothing but books. Not that he knows exactly what else he might have been expecting, but...oh well.
It takes him a second to realize Daryl isn't at his side, and he turns around to find him lingering behind, looking nervous and uncomfortable. Jesse frowns, falling back beside him. ]
Yeah, me neither.
[ No surprise there. He hesitates, looking at Daryl, but gets the sense that calling him out on how he kinda looks like he wants to turn and run out the door might prompt him to do just that. Instead, he leans his hip against a nearby display table, paging idly at a book resting on top and doing his best to exude an air of casual relaxation, in the hopes it'll rub off on Daryl. Huh. Looks like this is the foreign language section. ]
[ He's glancing around, getting the measure of the space, when he makes eye contact with what must be an employee standing in amongst the shelves. Daryl finally touches a few spines when he sees the clerk pointedly look away from him with disinterest. Thick books, lots of leather, nothing like what he would have found back home and of course, he didn't really know what he was expecting. ]
Whatever I can find, really. Last one I read was about pirates.
[ He answers off-hand, quietly, like they're in a library. Not that he's ever had any library experience in his life. But he sounds distracted, maybe a little confused, and he starts to take odd books off the shelves to look at the inner pages. ]
I'm going to bet your practical woodsman attitude hasn't stretched far enough to allow you to steal from the tavern yet. But I just so happen to have what you need.
I found out what it did. And then I got distracted. Now they're dried up spider jerky and leaking goo all over the floor. Really a terrible waste of resources, it's such a shame.
The venom seems to inhibit nerve function and causes numbness, delayed pain response and mild amnesia. It also stimulates the production of various neurotransmitters and sexual hormones, meaning that you're stuck in one place but you're pretty happy about it. The blood transfusion triggered the adrenal gland to overproduce stress hormones, inducing aggression and fear. Nothing we didn't already know, which was kind of a bummer.
[ Except the night that John had slid into Daryl's head for distraction, he'd told him he'd given himself up for torture to save House from exactly what Daryl had gone through up at the castle. So he doesn't say anything more than that.
But fucking spider venom, huh? Shit. ]
You supposed to have these? Or are we keeping a secret?
[ Don't make him think about all the things they've done and watched each other do that he'd never have done with his brothers, blood-related or not. ]
[ Guess who is staring at him across the room from the safety of the food table!! Yes, it is Lottie, and if he doesn't spy her already, she makes it obvious: ]
[ He's about to tell her she'd be incapable of forcing anything on him when she forces him into dumb silence for a few more seconds. ]
Just come sit.
[ He waits until she does before he gives her what she wants, still just a flicker between their minds because for some reason it feels way easier to talk about it this way. Silently, only the outsides of their thighs pressed together on the bench as the rest of the room ruts and moans in front of them. ]
[ Oh. Oh. Lottie almost wishes she didn't sit down at all if it meant this. But it's Daryl, so she's willing to tryβ even if it means pushing through the awkward she feels at this, her inexperience and frank inability to sympathize with people. The topic makes it easier, at least. Lottie went through a break up, too.
She leans back into her seat, spreads her legs until her knees are fully knocking his. ]
[ He doesn't move away from her. Even if he hadn't been loaded up with the orgy's finest samplers, the connection between them helps make the conversation bearable. He might have even let her sit that close if he was sober.
Even though he'd never be dishing to her then. He drains the cup he'd only been toying with when she'd been across the room. ]
When we all got back from the void. Said it was better this way.
[ In so many words. Daryl doesn't exactly want to relive the specifics of the night. ]
[ Wow. Yikes.. She refrains from hissing air through her teeth, fully aware of the fact they both have a reason for doing this as privately as they are. Lottie has only ever talked about her own relationships telepathicallyβ less emotion for there to trickle out. Less questions when you change the subject. The fact Daryl is letting them sit so long on the details of it means a lot.
There's a tilt of her head up to the barn roof, nose sniffling because germs. Animal fur. Residual fuck fluids in the air. She's not speaking fully, but her tone is gentle. Almost wry, ]
you know my first boyfriend didn't even break up w/ me properly he said we should go on a break & then he started dating my stalker
[ He can't help it, that makes him turn to sneak a look at her and he very narrowly avoids snorting out loud. ]
No shit?
[ He schools his expression again and turns back to face the room, his knee nudging hers in apology for what she said, for breaking their silence, all of it. They're supposed to not be obviously talking, right?
Totally normal behaviour. ]
That's insane. Fuck that guy. Who the hell would break up with you?
[ He knows how most guys think and he can see Lottie, after all. ]
[ She's happy he looks away first because she's liable to snort, and this conversation is supposed to happen in secret, after all (total normal behavior). She nudges his back softly in turn, to let him know it's okay and right?? Lottie thought the same thing when it all first happened. That, and her life was over. ]
sunny is okay his only crime was being beefy and dumb
[ And maybe a subpar boyfriend, but before coming here Lottie only had the one. She isn't sure if her time with John or House would technically compare or be on the list (she does know there was something, enough to be exes). She'd be a terrible judge regardlessβ she doesn't know what a good partner really looks like. ]
[ Something about the capitalization hits him straight in the heart and for a hot instant he misses Glenn like he'd seen him die just yesterday. So yeah fine, she manages to make him feel bad about picking on her. And now he just feels bad in general.
daryl he literally said we should go on a break didnt talk to me for like a month gave me no reason btw dated someone else end of story
[ And then she like, sexted him or whatever but that doesn't make for a good story!! ]
break ups in any capacity aren't 'GREAT' but like at least yours there's no bad blood and i know he's just thinking abt you anyway so he's doing that manpain thing
Why're you making it a competition? Did you have to watch him fall apart slowly in front of you?
[ It just comes out. He's worried about him, hasn't said so out loud to anyone else. But Jesse's fucked up all the time now, already looks like he's lost weight. And he doesn't have much to spare. ]
[ She frowns quietly. She isn't making it a competition, she's trying to relate. Badly, apparently, because she can practically feel the shift in the air, how Daryl slips back into the same mopey tune he was whistling before. ]
okay like no offense now YOU'RE making it a competition
[ But speaking of that manpain thingβ ]
what do you even mean?? was he like.. crying?? how bad?
[ It aches, hearing that. Lottie knows what it means (now, after having lived with him in the Void for so long), and Lottie knows just how bad it is. Using. Drinking all the time. Didn't bounce back.
Some part of her wants to laugh at thatβ if Daryl thinks she's bounced back then good. She's still got it. It means she's doing exactly what she needs to do to seem normal, hopefully the very same as she slides a hand to his side. Jostles her pinky against his, a subtle show of comfort that works for the both of them. ]
i didn't even know drugs existed here... and he hasn't talked to you since? :(
[ He feels that tentative touch and because it's her, because she's never offered something like that to him before, a dam in him very nearly breaks. He holds it back and doesn't respond, strains just to let her touch him. He accepts it by not pulling his hand away. ]
Well he found em. I think he used to be good at that.
[ In the Before, when Jesse and her were together in the Void, everything was perfect. So she has no idea if he was or wasn't good at that, so she stays quiet. Thinks. Lets her lips purse as he continues. ]
[ Jesse knows the world Daryl comes from, but knowing and seeing are two different things, it turns out. He'd never told Jesse that he was a killer. He'd had to find out as a witness. But so had Lottie. ]
[ Oh. Well, that'll do it. Jesse's dealt with drugs but not murder before, if their conversation about her own was anything to do by (which is fine, which is fair). Lottie's only good with it because she's spectacular at avoiding thought, feelings. Has poked and prodded at Caroline's dead (then resurrecting) body more times than she can count. ]
The number don't matter. 'Cause there ain't no number back home. And now he's seen it.
[ He couldn't put a number on his kills back home if he tried. He's been a soldier for years and years. The world is almost all death where he comes from and it's the only way of life left. ]
[ Lottie bristles at thatβ turns her head to actually look at him and maybe the audacity he has to say that (you don't know what you're talking about, you're saying what you think I wanna hear).
It's true, Lottie is a chronic people pleaser. But she likes to think she wouldn't lie about this, not when she feels so strongly about Daryl. The fact he's making her doubt herself is even worse, makes her draw her body away to get those few centimeters of distance back. ]
sure
[ Her gaze goes back to the crowd, jaw sharp, lips pursed. ]
[ He picks up the voice connection like someone cutting off an answering machine. This is all feeling too high school for him. ]
He's a flake. He helped kidnap Mavis, I watched him try an' justify it to her. [ But he'd also tried to help Daryl get home that same trip. Had killed him for killing Mavis, just like he deserved. It's complicated. ] He thinks he's someone he ain't.
[ His tone is weary over the connection, at his very end. ] Kidnapped? What the fuck--look--
Do you hate him? Because like...everyone does, but I can't keep both eyes on him all the time. I can barely keep one eye on him. I need--help, I need help.
[ Okay, maybe he has just enough energy to work up to frustrated again. ]
Look, I know we all love a good hanging, but I dunno, I fucking--I like him, and he's losing his mind, and everyone here is just chill about it. I know he's fucking--old timey sexist! I get it. I know. But is any of this helping? It's not like he can off himself and leave people alone, letting him fester and go insane is only going to make more fucking problems, because he doesn't understand! These people are like those assholes that speak full sentences to their dogs and wonder why they aren't trained! Dogs can't speak English! They don't understand!
[ He lets him go on because he doesn't know where to start. He's always been good at cutting these sorts of conversations right in half. Quentin is spiraling and needs it. ]
Dogs learn what you teach 'em. He ain't learning.
[ Not that that's what Daryl's concerned about now. Or at all, really. ]
You don't even like me an' you're beggin' for my help. [ Why sugar coat it? ] Your friends don't like him. That means nothin' to you?
No one's teaching him. They're just jumping down his throat. I dunno, I heard you talking with him like a normal, concerned human being, I know you used to talk--I figured I could at least ask. My bad.
[ His frustration simmers excitedly over the connection for a long few seconds, but hey--it's all he's been getting on the Felipe front anyway, right? How disappointed can he really be? With finality: ]
[ The sun has only just cracked over the horizon. He has no idea if Daryl is awake, or if this is where he spends any time, or if he gives a fuck--just that Daryl has protected him before, and god knows he needs protection now. Frantic, disjointed, laced with the thrumming, thrashing sound of his pulse as he runs: ]
--help, I need--HELP ME, Daryl, I need help, I need help, I need help, I can't reach town, I need help--
[ Images rush in: blurry trees that he races by, winter-brown plants under his feet, Felipe's body in the tree, a knife, a knife, a knife a knife and then its
[ Daryl is almost always awake or on the verge of it and he jolts upright when he hears him, when the experience smashes into him, heartbeat lurching into a race with Quentin's. What the fuck was that? ]
Quentin? [ He calls back and gets nothing. ] Quentin?
[ When he still gets no response at all he's up and active in seconds, leaving a final message as he gets his shit together to begin his hunt. ]
I fucking knew something wasn't right with that boy.
[ He means Danny, who he's more preoccupied about right now. Quentin's in for a rough time whatever happens and he knows he has a fan club to look after him. Daryl's never been much to have around emotionally. ]
[ He knows it doesn't matter. Somehow, despite how much Daryl isn't a gossip, he can't help asking. How had it happened to Quentin so similarly to the way it had happened to him? ]
About having care with his heart, and whose hands he put it into. Quentin cares deeply for so many of us here. It worried me to see him give that much of himself to someone who seemed too eager to absorb it.
[ Straightforward, without any innuendo or double-talk to dress up the answer. Daryl has more than earned honesty from him. ]
Nikita and I are housing people in the tavern. I need help making sure they stay safe from that mob, especially when we need to start making supply runs.
[ One word and he's gathering up his things to move. He's been wondering where those at the boarding house will be staying and even though he's loath to trust any Rubean, this is at least some answer. ]
it's growing in the greenhouse so anyone can see it but the locals don't know what a magical, medicinal plant this is. hell, the multi-purpose value here needs protecting. can't have them getting into it to make -- uh. rope. ( it is a very obvious operation, daryl. )
Sorry, I forgot that's what you say to someone when you want to break up with them. Uh, I'm Joan. Gabe-- Fifty? He's my roommate. I heard about what happened. Is- are you okay? Is there anything I can... do?
...And, uh, someone's gone missing. I'm told you're good at searching for people?
[ Her follow up comes as he's trying to figure out what the hell to do with the first message. Then he goes from amused to grumpy to wary, all real fast. ]
Guess you ain't surprised him the wrong way yet. Guy's a dick.
[ The stabbing would have been one thing. The attitude he'd gotten from him after it all had been what felt like the twist of the knife. ]
Yeah, sure. Depends who's missin'. [ Because if it's Gabe... ]
[If there were a phone to speak into, Joan would be glaring at the reciever. That accent-- deep South, definitely. It lacks the twang of Kentucky, and the skullfuck dullness of Oklahoma. She can't place it beyond that and it's kind of... annoying. Whatever, get over it, Joanie.]
[It does bring out a ghost of Joan's own real accent, the slightest sliver of a Texan drawl.]
We tried to kill each other, first time we met up. I know what he's like. I ain't here to make excuses for him, or anybody. What he did to you was wrong, and I hope you're getting what you're owed outta it.
[What else can she say but that?]
The boy-- man. The guy who runs the library, Wesley? We think he might've been kidnapped, but searching in town is... shit's bad in town.
[ She sounds just enough like home that Daryl is willing to trust this, give her the benefit of the doubt. Turns out it's a lot harder to tell if people are lying if they ain't in front of you. ]
Why d'you care? Just 'cause you're roommates don't make him your responsibility.
[ Oh, the library guy. Daryl's seen him around enough for the hook of responsibility to tug at him. Guy never gives him shit when he returns books late. Or stained. ]
Think, huh? Shit's bad but it don't mean he ain't here. If he's gone silent what makes you think he's still alive? [ He hates the network but he has to admit it's convenient. ] Or ain't we expectin' to find him that way?
[ Alive, that is, because yeah. It's 'we're' already. He likes the library but mostly he just likes having a job to do. Something that makes him feel useful. ]
I let a murderer sleep in my room. I gave him a safe place to stay. If that don't mean nothing to you-- I don't expect it to. But it means something to me.
[The truth of the matter is, if she doesn't hold herself to some kind of standard, what will she become? Whatever that creature is, she never wants to meet it.]
I'm thinking if we don't look, we ain't finding shit. People come back here. We find him dead, we still help him.
[ Yeah no murderers here, he thinks. It should be easy not to lie to her if he just talks around himself. He's good that at. ]
Don't think he meant to. If that means somethin' to you.
[ It's not his business to tell her anything more than that, about how Gabe had lingered with him, sat beside him. Hadn't finished him off. Even dying of shock, Daryl could still smell the regret. ]
[ He'd practically had to twist the guy's arm to get anything out of him when they'd woken up together in the dark. Good to know it doesn't always take that much to get a confession out of him. ]
I haven't--fuck. Look, something's wrong with Danny. And--don't--! [ Feel free to imagine him throwing both hands up to hold off the inevitable commentary. ] Something more wrong than always. I need to get him away from his family, somewhere out of this fucking mausoleum of a cabin. I need to get him somewhere I can watch him and keep him calm and straighten him out.
I need it to be somewhere with someone attached that I know--that I know would help me. [ "Know" is a strong assertion. Even as he says it, his unsurety of whether Daryl will help him is obvious. ]
But hearing Quentin say his name, revealing everything while saying so little and clearly asking for no commentary on it, blooms so much disappointment in Daryl he almost chokes on it. He lets the kid talk just so he can collect himself. ]
You're fightin' a lost cause. [ He knows Quentin thinks he thinks this. He knows Quentin knows. He still fucking says it. ] He's rabid. Fuck with him enough and you're gettin' bit again.
[ Worst part is, he thinks Quentin must know that too. Maybe even wants it. ]
I know. I know better than anybody, Daryl. So knowing this, what am I supposed to do? Let him run wild and see who he bites next?Β
I can help. I can-- [ I can fix him, I can fix him, I can--Quentin stops and sucks in a deep breath, thinks fully through this thought before explaining, earnest. ] I think this is the best chance I'll ever get to teach him something. I have to try.Β
[ He hates that containment is a fair point, even if he doesn't know the exact situation they're dealing with. Because already in Daryl's mind it's turned to them,their problem, because the void broke something in his DNA, something that whispers to him every time Danny's name comes up that he's his responsibility, his fucking problem. ]
You can't help. [ He hears what Quentin is saying even though he's not saying it. He wants to shake him, slap him. He wants to admit that he hopes the same fucking thing. ] But yeah. Yeah, you can use the spot.
[ And if he's helping Quentin, what sort of idiot does that make him? ]
[ At the very least, it makes him an appreciated idiot. Quentin shows his appreciation with an outpouring of gratitude in this moment and with updates over the next few days. How they got in. How it's going. Word that he's keeping the place clean. A few more days. It's getting better, he thinks. The next day, no, no, it's still bad. Quentin's gratitude increases fourfold when he asks Daryl one more favor: an overnight stay while Quentin takes care of something. He'll be back in the morning, promise, just--one night. One night.
[ Quentin does come back in the morning--later than he means to, sweaty from the mid-morning heat and the hike, looking like hell warmed over. He warns Daryl when he's close to the shack, an implicit request to meet him outside, and when he lays eyes on Daryl, a pang of something sharp and familiar lances through his chest. Relief. Nervousness. He's got a progress report in his backpack with three C's. Stayed out too late with Jesse Braun and the living room light is on. He's in trouble, and the one person he doesn't want to know is the same person that he desperately needs help from.
[ Daryl isn't his dad, but Quentin still has a hard time meeting his eyes when they're finally close enough for low conversation. ]
The wound the void had left in Daryl's head has been healing for months, had nearly knit closed, and then all in one night it's been torn open again. He is indeed outside to meet Quentin but that's because he's been outside since dawn, splitting wood to keep from going back inside and killing Danny with the axe where he's still lying hogtied and gagged in the middle of the floor where Daryl left him.
His shirt is soaked through with sweat and there's a shallow cut on the side of his neck that wasn't there when Quentin left. He bites the axe deep into the stump he uses for a block and watches him approach, scowling through how torn up the kid looks. How much he feels like he's played this waiting game before.
[ Daryl looks like he's run a marathon. And fought a bear. And like he's already heard from Quentin's teacher. His expression wilts; he's just a guy, he's still learning, don't be mad. ] I'm sorry. Sorry, he's always got...just one more.
[ He drops his bag next to the wood pile, scrubbing his eyes with both palms. ] I owe you. For all this. I don't know if it's helping, I don't--I just need a couple more days.
[ He's always got just one more. Isn't that the truth? Blade, taunt, idea, trick. Danny's always got just one more up his sleeve. ]
It ain't helpin'.
[ He yanks the axe free, lifts another log into place and brings it down violently to cut it in two. He needs the outlet if he's going to talk about this. ]
He fucked me at knifepoint. [ Another log, another savage swing. ] Before you find out an' cry to me about it again. He made me fuck 'im so I did.
He-- [ Is he supposed to not cry about it? In an instant, Quentin's eyes well with tears of anger and exhaustion and pity, but to his credit, he doesn't choke. It's all in the eyes, all down his cheeks, no beats skipped. ] --what the fuck, Daryl, are you okay? What do you--what do you need?
[ As soon as he says it, as soon as Quentin's face crumples, Daryl regrets it. He swings that axe as if he's cutting through the guilt he feels for having not stopped all of this, kept him in line, something. But that guilt isn't his and he won't take it on.
Chop. ]
Nothin'. For you to get him outta here, if you ain't gonna put him outta his misery.
[ Daryl's out here because he couldn't. He couldn't get the knife away from him until the end, then he hadn't been able to drive it home. Failed, then failed again. ]
It's my fault. I shoulda sat outside with a bow an' been done with it. [ He should have said no to Quentin but even now he doesn't want to say that to him. ]
[ Out of his misery. That's what Danny keeps asking for too. To hear it off someone else's mouth--as soon as it's out his mouth, he hears how selfish he sounds, asking for advice on top of favors, but not until then. ] Is that what he needs?
[ You're gonna kill him with that face and those questions, kid. Daryl finally falters, lets the axe slam home again and stay there. He sags. ]
He's still alive. That's your answer.
[ Maybe it's what he needs. Maybe killing him just brings him back worse. Daryl's starting to think that might be the case, but... ]
I can't. [ It comes out defeated, hoarse. He doesn't know how much Quentin knows, if Danny had ever whispered about it to him. Daryl's hurting too much right now not to spit it out like a chipped tooth. ] He was my kid once, too. In... like when you were mine.
[ But not like how he was with Quentin, in far too many ways. ]
[ Danny never mentioned it. Quentin never thought to ask. It had been enough that he knew Danny would breath down Daryl's neck, Quentin ignored it the way he ignored Jim, and House, and John-- ]
[ More than he had, less than he should have, who fucking knows? It was a cloud of moonshine and anger and lust, the very worst parts of who Daryl used to be, magnified by a thousand by the void. No wonder the kid he'd created there had been twisted too, gone wrong. ]
All versions of him are broken, kid. You don't need me to say it.
[ He knows it, but he might still need Daryl to say it. One more person has to say it, every once and a while Quentin feels like maybe he's starting to understand it at last. Still, it drives him deep enough into his thoughts that he flinches the next time the ax comes down. Daryl moves through a whole other swing while Quentin thinks, and the second crack of hatchet through the logs startles a murmured sorry, I'm sorry out of him.Β
[ He turns to pick his bag back up, eyes on the ground, storm cloud trailing behind him as he lurches back towards the cabin. ] I'll take care of it. I'll get him out of here--tomorrow. Tomorrow, we'll be gone.Β
So, I was a bitch. I wanna ap- I'm sorry. I was real fucked up and I took it out on you. You- [She's pretty sure it's not totally her fault, but today? She is fucking tired of fighting. She tamps down on her battered ego and moves on.] You were just trying to be nice. And your jacket was pretty cool.
[ He's quiet for a while before answering, just to make sure she's actually finished. ]
You ain't gotta be sorry. [ He doesn't sound annoyed, which would be enough for someone who knew Daryl well to tell that he's just a little bit amused. ] You just ain't foolin' anyone.
[ Like deer that got their antlers tangled. Why would he...? There's a gruff, exasperated sound over the connection. ]
Come get it. [ It wasn't a good enough apology to turn him into a delivery boy. ] Carpenter's workshop. Not the guy with the lumber yard, one that does furniture.
[ He's parked in the outdoor work yard with grease up to his forearms, working on his bike that Billy just had to mess around with. ]
Daryl, Joan reasons, is from the south. She can think of few better olive branches that aren't actively offensive than the bullshit she's been brewing in her kitchen-- it's nothing magical, just sweet tea, brewed hot with sugar, chilled and poured into a large glass jug. (Joan has no clue the tea house she's been getting the shit from puts aphrodisiacs in their mixes; why would she ask, and why would the shop girl tell her?)
So it's with this under her arm that Joan approaches the carpenter's shop. She smells something that unlocks almost three decades of sense memory, and wanders toward engine grease and sweat. Joan looks over Daryl and his fucking bike the same way a gambler looks over a winning hand: with the kind of practiced disinterest that begs not to be noticed.
[ He looks up when she comes in, just long enough to confirm it's the company he thought and then go back to work. If their last interaction had told Daryl anything about Joan, it's that she doesn't stand on manners. ]
Yeah. That freak that comes through, he traded me the parts for it. Runs fine most days.
[ He sets the wrench down, stands and wipes his hands on a rag that absolutely does not clean them. ]
[Right now, something far more interesting is happening than a jacket. Joan puts her jug of tea down and watches Daryl's hands, smells the familiar scent of engine grease.] Runs on what? You got a secret Shell station out back?
Ethanol? [Joan whistles the way wolves do in cartoons.] That's fuckin' smart. Jesus. I used to be a mechanic, back home. Never worked on bikes, but- [Joan bends her head a little, walks around to Daryl's side so she can see what he's doing-] looks fucking nice, man.
[ He lets the flattery roll of him like it wasn't really meant for him, but he manages not to actually hunch his shoulders a little against it. A mechanic though, that's interesting. ]
Thanks. Didn't realize how much I'd miss all this 'til I didn't have it. Saves me miles.
[Joan smiles, eyes wide, and if she had any natural beauty it'd shine through in the summer light. She doesn't, though, so her smile's just too sharp and her hair's too red.]
Yeah. Damn. Got all nostalgic for a second, there.
[But her mood's significantly improved. Almost bouncing on her heels, she goes to get the jug.] I been making tea. Fuckin'- apology drink, I guess.
[ Nostalgic. Yeah, he knows that ache. The bike is helpful but every day it reminds him acutely of where he isn't. ]
Alright. This is closer.
[ To a real apology, that is. He looks at the tea, then at Joan. When he takes it, he's essentially hoping for the best that she can be trusted. That smile she'd just shown him had done a lot of the work for her on that account. ]
You didn't have to. Wasn't like I was waitin' out there for folks to be nice to me. [ He pops the cork and takes a swig, not bothering with a glass. ]
[Daryl will find the jug is filled with sweet tea and lemon slices-- not the best, even Joan will admit that, but she thinks it's about as good as they can get without Lipton packets.]
Yeah, I kinda assume you're not trying to emotionally entrap me. [It's gentle ribbing. It probably comes on too strong. She always does.] Reckon it's the least I can do... considering. Always put my fucking foot in my mouth with you.
[It's not really always, but it feels like it to Joan, someone whose guilt is as overactive as her rage.]
[ She gets a flat look for what Daryl is assuming is her sense of humor but it's hot enough out that the drink is nice. Nothing like the soup Georgia turned into in the summers, but it isn't like he remembers to take care of himself any better here than he did back home. ]
You weren't that bad. Weren't the only one that that threw up, either.
[ But he isn't going to narc on Nikolai like that, so he leaves it there. ]
[She looks at him with his greasy hair and grey beard, the sweat on his neck and the motor oil on his hands. She wants to touch him. She wonders if he fucks hard.]
[(The aphrodisiacs she doesn't know are in the tea and starting to kick in.)]
Nah. Didn't wanna go back in. Hey, d'you wanna, uh. Go out some time?
[ For a moment he doesn't understand what she's asking. He squints at her until it clicks, then he has to turn away to hide how he's immediately worrying his lip between his teeth. He drops the wrench in the tool box and it's noisier than it needed to be. Awkward. ]
I don't 'go out'.
[ But for once Daryl hears how that sounds when he says it. Normal people do what she's doing, even though he has no idea why she'd ask him. He feels a hot prickle start up on the back of his neck and he takes another swig of the tea to buy time, to stop his throat from getting any tighter. ]
[As much as Joan enjoys assertive, commanding presences, Rubilykskoye has opened her eyes to the appeal of shy bashfulness. She wonders how shy he'd be while she was touching him. She's sure, in this moment, that she could give him a good time. It would be a kindness. (A selfish kindness. It would be incredibly erotic, she is also sure.)]
[So she gives him space. Lets him take his time.] I'm not great, either. Shocker, I know. [She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.] But I like you, and you're very fucking nice to look at.
[And very much in her league, and kind, empathetic, knows his way around an engine, and-] I wouldn't mind giving you a good time. However you wanna do it.
[ She's watching him and Daryl feels like something on a butcher's counter, something that looks good. Something for sale. ]
Don't-- [ A wall goes up with the word, ] Talk about it like that. Like it's a favor.
[ A party gift. He's never going to get used to how sex is just offered here, bartered, traded. Sometimes taken. He gives her a long look, trying to read her while simultaneously trying to lock himself away. Become a surly mask instead of an obviously confused old man. ]
[If Joan were pretty, she's sure this wouldn't happen. It's not that Daryl thinks she's ugly, exactly, but it wouldn't be so easy to reject her if she looked like a model, like everybody else here does. At this point, it's absurd to take it personally. It doesn't mean anything. It's just how life is.]
Yeah, well, I'm pretty cheap.
[That was pure bitterness, entirely unworthy of the kindness Daryl has shown her, unrelentingly if stubbornly applied. She shakes her head.]
Look, it's whatever. Just an offer, you know. [She looks away, frowning.] All I'm saying is-... thanks. For checking on me. That's all.
[She takes a step back, clearly preparing to turn tail and leave.]
[ It comes out a little defensive. He hadn't meant to hurt her feelings. Hadn't considered that someone who could offer it like it was nothing might still get cut with a 'no'.
He feels the old twist of bitterness that she'd made him have to say it. He sets his jaw a little harder to fight his pitching stomach. ]
You're welcome. [ A statement, final, like it's something she can't argue with. ] I'd do it again, too. Like it or not.
[And maybe that's the problem. She feels too comfortable with that normalcy, and it's causing her to expect more of Daryl than he ever signed up to give. Is she taking advantage of him? It feels likely. She takes advantage of everything in this place. Ruins everything good.]
[Mavis' image flashes through Joan's mind. Self pity. She needs to get over herself. She needs to leave.]
Yeah. I get that. Stay safe, Daryl. And if you find an ethanol car- [She makes the old-fashioned sign for 'phone' with her hand, thumb and pinky extended-] Call me.
Voice, prior to the snow
Her voice is calm, and cool. ]
Weβre going to talk now.
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Are we?
[ The statement, the method of delivery, the dread it kicks up in him. All of his irritation is audible in his answer. ]
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One of my boys is here.
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The one Pope killed to make a point.
[ Even though it's happening in his mind, he somehow manages to hold back 'and you just watched.' Maybe because he still isn't looking for a fight with her. ]
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[ There's more that could be said about it - that one day will need to be said - but not to Daryl. Her voice remains cool. ]
He's not going to bother you. You're not going to bother him.
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So you're lyin' to him?
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You know it.
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[ This is a gordian knot, not easily unwound. But one thing remains certain: she doesn't need Daryl and Bossie trying to kill each other. ]
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Y'know, sometimes you sound like a broken record.
He even ask you for an explanation? Or have you trained him not to?
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Donβt pretend you care about my family.
[ That was clear from the start, only sheβd believed that one day he couldβa sin that she will never come back from.
She should have known better. She cannot say she wasnβt warned. ]
All I need is for you two not to kill each other.
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But the truth ain't gonna come from me, if that's what you're really askin'.
[ He has no interest in killing Bossie, but he doesn't trust him being around real people any more than he'd trust a walker.
Or Leah. But what the hell can he do here? ]
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[ She knows better. There will be a reckoning and they are both of them liars. But the equation has shifted now. Not so long ago, she was the last man standing. And now, her little brother has come back from the deadβbrittle, and shaken, but alive.
There are no second chances. Nothing that clean. But it changes things now. She has obligations beyond sheer survival, and the mission she assigned herself after putting down her dead, one by one. She has one of them back now and she means to hold onto them. It canβt be done through lies but she knows Bossie, too: he canβt take the truth of it head on, not just yet. And she knows, too, that she cannot say any of this to Daryl because he will, inevitably, use it against her. The bitter lessons are the ones that stick. And this she has learned oh so well. ]
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But she's talking. And he has questions since seeing Bossie. ]
What's the last thing he remembers?
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Why?
[ It comes out softer than she means. Bossie was always the brittle one. She fears it shows. ]
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That has to matter.
[ He can't figure any of it out. It had made some kind of feasible sense, at least the timing had, until he'd seen Bossie. Maybe Leah had survived what had happened. What he did.
But not Bossie. He's been in the ground long enough to turn to worms. ]
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[ She doesnβt understand them yet but she will because thatβs where the power lies: understanding how a thing works, the full shape of it. Why it works and how it breaks and how it can be made into a newer, stronger form. She had to understand the Army before she could survive as a soldier, had to understand the shape demanded of her before she tried to become something new; she never knew what shape mother was supposed to be but she tried. She held onto it with both hands and thought, maybe. And now here she is again, grappling with a system she doesnβt yet grasp but she will.
She will, because thatβs the only way through.
Her voice goes thick, even across the distance. ]
You donβt get to take this from me.
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I didn't wanna take any of 'em from you. I tried to give 'em back.
[ "I didn't want this." And god, he hadn't. But he's surprised at the anger in his bark now. He'd thought he'd left it all behind, buried it like everything else.
She'd forced his hand again and again and that was supposed to be that. He hadn't realized he was mad about it. ]
cw: misogyny
[ Her voice is iron, utterly unyielding. The unspoken part: you made me a liar, too. They could have walked it back if he hadnβt been there, muddying the waters. She could have dragged Pope back to the center and things would have gone back to normal. They could have had a community, walls.
But thatβs nothing but wistful thinking. Itβs not what happened and sheβs always had a tendency to get emotional, her mother sighing at the dinner table, you know I canβt hear you when you get like this, sweetie; her first sergeant, sneering and almost sad after the first time she scraped a corpse off the sand; you gonna fucking cry now, Shaw? You gonna be a girl about it? I knew youβd fucking cry.
Pope, glasses shining, when she knew she was his favorite: You can do better than that.
Pope, gurgling as he died under her boot. She wasnβt yet a liar then but it was coming. Inevitable as the fire, as Popeβs wrath of God shining in the blood. ]
Then your back was to a wall, and you killed my brother. You thought Iβd take your hand after you did that? You thought Iβd give them up so easily?
[ Thereβd been a moment where sheβd thought about it, is the thing. Not leaving them, no, never, but finding an angle to make it work. A moment where she might have taken his hand after all and bodied the cost. And then sheβd seen Ancheta lying there, and that made it so very simple. ]
It doesnβt matter what you wanted, Daryl. Thatβs not what happened.
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He could say a lot and so of course, he says nothing. Silence buzzes from his end because she isn't wrong. He'd hoped she would, been almost sure she would. That he could gamble on the piece of her he'd known once in the woods. The piece that had shone for a moment when that wounded mother had closed her eyes and Shaw had lowered her gun. He'd thought for a second that part of her was bigger than it really was, that she had seen her people for what they were. That killing Pope had meant that.
It hadn't, but she's right about one thing. It doesn't matter what he wanted. It never had.
So he asks what he's afraid to ask. Time to test the scab. ]
What's the last thing you remember?
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[ She knows what heβs asking without directly asking, the wound heβs circling. Itβs a habit of his. The sort of thing that bleeds down into the marrow, all bruised and weary because you cannot look at the sun head on without bodying the burn, and some things it hurts to ask directly. It would hardly be the first time. And she knows himβor did, once. How difficult it can be to voice the things you dredge from down deep. Once, she might have helped him.
This time, sheβs in no mood to make it easy. ]
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Just one more thing. Just one more mistake, just one more death.
What's just one more, right? ]
Guess there ain't one. It went the way it was gonna go.
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[ That's the simple truth of the world. You make do with what you know, with what's in front of you. ]
And I'm choosing my brother here. You should be familiar with the concept.
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Just keep him away from me.
[ But even as he says 'me' Daryl worries about all the others. All the people here, new arrivals and townies alike, that don't know about them. About who's walking among them. ]
I won't do any more lyin' 'cause of you.
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Iβd fucking hope so, Daryl.
[ She rarely curses. But thereβs real anger in her tone, and it comes out in sideways means. She canβt control what Daryl says to Bossie, or people in general, and so doesnβt intend to try. But he lied to her once, over and over again, and now to say that heβs done with it?
Too little too late. ]
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No one can hold their silence like Daryl can. ]
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Anger is easy. Anger is her oldest friend. And she knows Daryl's silence. She could get him to break it if she tried, if she pushed hard enough.
She doesn't. She just exhales through her teeth, and lets it go. What's done is done. She has work to do now. ]
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It wasn't.
I know that now. Shoulda known it then.
Ain't no excuse for what I did.
[ In other words, I understand if we can't see each other ever again. ]
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i didnt know either
[ everything in the void had been so turned around. she rubs at the back of her head. the spot where she'd hit it when aristaeus had knocked her unconscious, ready to haul her off back to kossos. it feels different. because this wasn't a betrayal. ]
you werent daryl anymore
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I wasn't.
But I brought you there.
[ He can't take that back. He can't take back putting her and Felipe in danger, he can't take back what happened to them all. ]
I'm so goddamn sorry, kid.
[ A wave of nausea hits him as he apologizes. After what he did to her, no words could ever be enough. ]
(cw: ref to incest roleplay)
[ is this like john ...
but they aren't exactly fucking right now, so her nose wrinkles at it, feeling patronized. ]
you didnt bring
i went
i went to keep you safe
i failed
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You didn't fail. I failed you.
I hurt you.
Like I ain't ever hurt anyone else.
It's all I can think about.
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[ she realizes after sending the message that she doesn't know for sure. not really. but it feels right, intuitively, and she refuses to retract it. surely he has.
she has, and he had understood her implicitly, held her through it. no one who hadn't taken a life could have done the same.
the rest is familiar enough that it doesn't really occur to her to consider it as especially horrific, certainly not as compared to death. ]
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[ Killing is almost second nature to him. Countless enemies, friends that needed mercy. Leah, in the end, no matter how much he wished it could have gone differently.
But hurting someone for its own end has never been him. He had never felt those things before but now he knows how it feels to enjoy it. And he can't just unknow it. ]
Never like that.
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[ she could have, if she hadn't been worried about killing him in turn. if she hadn't held herself back from it. now he has to live with this, and it clearly haunts him in a way that it doesn't quite haunt her.
the coming back was far, far worse than the dying. it casts a shadow over all the rest. ]
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[ He doesn't know what she's capable of. She's told him a little but most of what he thinks he knows is really just what Daryl has seen fit to imagine. ]
If it happens again.
I want you to kill me.
[ At least that way he won't be taking anyone else down with him. He won't get lost inside himself again. ]
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[ hold her power back, squeeze it all inside herself because she can't bear to kill the only company she has. her people are gone, and the people she has now are therefore too precious to her.
she could not even bring herself to kill aristaeus.
she had suffered for daryl, thrown herself into the void and died for him, and she would do it again. but he did not want that. he wanted to not have to live with what he'd done to her. she thinks on it, knowing what they have both been through now, what they owe to the duchess and how different they may be. ]
i will
if you transform again
i will be the one to end it
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Good.
Thank you.
[ But somehow this isn't at all how he'd thought this conversation would go. ]
Why didn't you?
Stop me.
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[ she has tasted the alternative, now. in her mind, going back to the way she had been living, when she had no oneβthat's worse than death. ]
then it was too late
blood does that to me
when i transform
(cw: references to dubcon, murder)
But what she sends him next shuts him up. It makes more sense than he wants it to. ]
You changed too?
[ He hadn't been lucid enough to tell. It just hadn't mattered to him in that state. Nothing but mounting, fucking, and then killing her had. ]
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[ she hasn't, yet. she's fucked and scrapped her way through enough of this for that, it seems, and yet it keeps leaking through. stress, or something. she can't put her finger on it. ]
it was the same as when they took me
feverish
wet
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So that wasn't you either.
[ She was in the ways that matter to Daryl. But maybe it's more complicated than the way it makes him feel. ]
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[ she certainly doesn't feel like herself, now. but she could remember everything through the haze of heat and hunger anyway, and there is something primal about it that makes a kind of sense to her.
is that the kuruko? or is it the duchess? ]
do you feel like you
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[ He answers very fast. Almost defensively. ]
My people made me who I am.
I dunno who I am alone.
[ He means without them but to Daryl, the feeling is the same. Without the people that made him worthy of his life, he is alone. ]
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you will see yours again
[ she won't, but she can insist that she remains committed to getting daryl back to his. the kuruko may be dead, but he doesn't have to hurt like she does. ]
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But thanks.
[ Some people have disappeared and not come back, he's heard. So maybe she's right. He just doesn't have the space in his heart left for hope like that. Not right now. ]
You ok?
[ He knows it's a stupid question but neither does he want to ask: Can I see you again? ]
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[ still. again? and according to aristaeus, she is herself in all detectable ways, no matter how it feels. ]
i dont want to go back to the castle
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[ Never, not if he can help it. ]
You safe?
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with felipe
i can come see you though
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I'd like that.
[ He's just too tired and fucking sad about it all to lie. It's good that she's with Felipe, that they're safe together. But he wants to see her again. ]
I'm in Jesse's room. Second floor.
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it's good that he hadn't come out to the woods with them.
she climbs the stairs, finds her way to the room, and enters without knocking. there is no knocking at a campsite, and she hasn't bothered to stop and learn niceties in the past couple months.
she surveys the room, trying to make sense of what little changes he had made since she last saw it. ]
action;
But Daryl himself is still in the fine clothes they'd dressed him in before releasing him on their long walk back to the town. ]
You're alive.
[ He's alive too, and yet he still hadn't quite been able to believe it of her. Not even after walking back from the castle with her, nearly catatonic. He needed to see her again to be sure. He's a little breathless now that he has. ]
Y'look... like you.
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[ her head tilts a little. she doesn't move towards him quite yet. doesn't feel like she is allowed to, by that greeting. instead, she cautiously shuts the door, earns them a little bit of privacy. it's the one advantage she can see to permanent structures like these. no ability to move where they'll find resources in a given season, but at least they can close themselves off more easily. ]
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[ That's not what he'd meant, even if he's not sure what he did mean. The awkwardness of the moment shows on his face clearly. ]
Just... not used to mistakes takin' themselves back.
[ Except for Leah. He's done this before, in a way. This exact cycle. Kill her, then come face to face with her again. Only it's different with Mavis. It has to be. ]
I'm sorry. An' I gotta say it to your face.
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she draws nearer to him, studying his face. close enough to touch but never closing the distance entirely.
then she reaches into the back of her waistband and produces a kitchen knife. she holds it by the blade, offers it to him. her good knife was lost to the void, but this one will serve for now. ]
Take it. Hurt me.
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But when the knife comes out, nothing could have surprised him more. He blinks at her, lost. ]
Why... why would I do that?
[ He'd hurt her once already. The last thing he wants to do is do it again and the gesture has baffled him. ]
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it reassures her anyway. that the seed hadn't taken root in his mind, that she was to blame for all that death. her crimes are different, less personal to him, but she is familiar with the sense of responsibility.
she puts the knife away. ]
Exactly. [ she nods. ] Words mean nothing. This is what matters. You owe me nothing.
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But it means they're okay, there's something still friendly and salvageable here, and Daryl finds himself wishing he could do what he always does when he's reunited with a friend - he wishes he could hug her.
He doesn't. Not after what happened, he doesn't want to touch her in that way, doesn't want her to get the wrong idea. But no words of apology seem like enough. She's right, they mean nothing, so instead of trying he just reaches with one hand out to touch her shoulder, then her face. Her hair. Almost as if confirming she's there. ]
You're convincin', you know that?
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kid.
so she does it for him. it's the first one she has taken, seized for herself. she closes her arms around his middle and hopes that she is just convincing, just reasonable.
that she is not a kossian, pressing her thoughts onto his, making him feel and think things that aren't his own. the kind that kuruko told stories about over fires to warn children not to wander too far. ]
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It's not his life, not anymore, but maybe it doesn't have to be no life, after all. She forgives him. She isn't afraid of him. Daryl wraps his arms around her shoulders and fairly crushes her to his chest, committing to it entirely. He lets his nose tip into her hair and just breathes. ]
I thought you'd hate me.
[ Barely a murmur. They're so close he doesn't have to speak above a whisper. ]
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[ if she'd hated him, he'd be dead.
who was she kidding? she was so desperately afraid of returning to the life she'd had in the wilds that she can't even kill someone she hates because she is too attached to him. even if she'd hated daryl the moment he'd jumped her, she couldn't have killed him either.
but she doesn't. herself, a little, maybe. for her own weakness. but not him. he had only taken what he'd rightfully been able to wrest from her. ]
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He doesn't know how long to hold her for either but when he finally detaches and unwinds his arms, he takes her by the shoulders and doesn't step back. ]
Maybe you should. But I'll take it.
[ He realizes that if they're stuck here and he couldn't see her anymore, he'd miss her terribly. He lets her go. ]
Did it... scar?
[ He flinches when he asks, the memories snapping through his mind before he can stop them. His teeth in her thigh, the second bite on her shoulder and collarbone that had drained her dry. He desperately hopes whatever mind-reading powers she has didn't pick those images and memory-sensations up. ]
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[ it's the images themselves that make him ask. the memory. he flinches from it, yes, but the memory of the hunger is still there too. the way he'd thrilled in all of it.
did he hope he'd left his mark? was that stronger than the guilt that he might have? mavis' head tilts a little as she cranes her neck to look up at him. ]
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Because he is carrying new scars. Fainter than he thought they'd be, but there. ]
You ain't gotta tell me if you don't want. I shouldn't have asked.
[ And yet he had, because yes. He wants to know. He wants the truth and he doesn't want to dwell on why. ]
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but.
with the distance between them, now, mavis reaches up to unlace the tie that holds the top of her blouse closed. she untucks it and pulls it over her head in one efficient movement.
she doesn't wear anything to support her breasts. there's no need. despite the fact that he hadn't gotten a chance to see that properly out in the void, she doesn't look self conscious of her nakedness. it's just skin, and they've already determined he isn't going to hurt her.
she turns her back to him.
there are other scars β a smattering of them, different kinds, some of them faded with age. but where he'd pressed his paw down into her, where his claws had scraped and dug, there's nothing. like it hadn't happened.
she hasn't seen her back firsthand, but she'd seen her thighs. it's an easy guess, and much easier to demonstrate rather than have to find words for when words always require a higher lift for her. she's still so unused to actually communicating with other people, still getting used to the sound of her own voice. ]
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It's a good thing she can't see how pink his neck has gotten.
There are scars, he can see them immediately, but what he's afraid of seeing isn't there. The wounds he remembers so sharply being put there are gone, but the scars that remain remind him of his own a little with their random placements, ages and depths. He has to shake his head to remember to look away again from the sleek slope of her back and he takes a polite step away from her as he does. ]
'm glad.
[ Is he? If there's nothing to show for their horrific memories, how are they supposed to carry them? Without proof, what's the point of pain? It's a confusing thought when he'd have given so much back home for his friends to benefit from the same erasure. ]
If they're keepin' us here... it's the least she can do.
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[ no proof of her weakness. the other scars were from battles won and hardships overcome. they are marks of honor and resiliency. not from the one that bested her.
she turns towards him again as she pulls her shirt back on. despite not being able to see him then, she'd heard and felt plenty. ]
I made you uncomfortable.
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It's fine. Ain't like I don't deserve it.
[ He just hadn't been expecting it, but it doesn't seem as though she'd done it to throw him off on purpose. ]
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[ not in the void. but then, she recalls, he'd been uncomfortable then too. she would have thought even the people who were uneasy with that originally would have gotten past it here, with the festivals being like they are.
not daryl, though. he may be the person she knows with the strongest sense of who he is. it'll take more than that to change him. more than death, too, she hopes. ]
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[ She isn't wrong but the blunt way she states it almost guts him with embarrassment. It's almost like being naked in front of her all over again. ]
Yeah. But I've been tryin' to forget that day. When we didn't have a choice.
[ It's different when he has a choice, but even those moments are few and far between with Daryl. His shyness goes much deeper than even just the physical. ]
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[ she shifts her weight. it feels stupid to apologize for something like making him remember that, all things considered. it will probably be a while yet before she apologizes to daryl for anything.
but it's clear she hadn't meant to thrust it upon him unwelcome, from her awkward lingering. ]
Those clothes don't suit you. [ she changes the subject inexpertly, pointing to the clothes that the duchess had provided them with to leave. to replace the ones that had been destroyed in their death. ]
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He can't help but smirk a little, glancing down at the softness and embroidery. ]
They don't, huh? [ Obviously they don't. ] What sorta clothes do?
[ He really hasn't found anything that suits him here, but is this like the opposite of when that girl with the green hair had told him he looked like a person who would own a dog? ]
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[ she draws a line down the side of her chest. ]
With straps.
[ she's never seen work overalls before coming here, but she already knows to associate with people who can't be yanking their pants up all the time because they're busy doing manual labor. that's daryl.
not this fancy thing. ]
yes i did shuffle my icons just to add this
that's only in the spin-off.]You ain't wrong. But belts are more useful. They're good for more'n holdin' up your pants, in a pinch.
[ Tourniquets, to say the least. Hard to cut an infected limb off if you've only got it tied with suspenders. ]
I lost... what I was wearin' when we left, all my gear. I didn't leave much with Jesse. [ He shrugs, then sits down on the edge of the one bed. ] Gotta start over again.
LMAO OH GOOD
The hunting lodge can give you good work clothes in exchange for kills. [ she moves to the other bed, pulls her feet up onto it and crosses her legs. ] What else did you lose?
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[ He'd been able to improvise snares, which he hates to use, up until he'd had enough to start trading properly for the supplies he really needed.
All for nothing. ]
My weapons.
[ His mind. ]
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[ mavis says this almost automatically, dismissively. ]
I will make you one.
[ at least, one that is functional enough until he can get his own. she's already working on that bow for leah, anyway. ]
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[ He isn't going to say no, but he doubts she can make him a tool that will last. He's never been one to use a bow like Carol's and he uses his knives too often and too hard to use tools made from rock. ]
They know me now. [ He hasn't considered that that might be a hinderance now, as much as anything else. ] We'll see if they'll still trade with me.
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[ these are the hallmarks of any good kuruko's kit, anyway. skill with either would keep you safe and feed you and yours, give you a place among the hunters and warriors of the clan. ]
I learned to carve wood.
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[ It would be cleaner than the way he'd been trimming Jesse's beard and his own before he'd lost all his knives, even his skinning tools. Somehow he still hadn't thought to buy a razorblade for himself so he hadn't even had one to lose. ]
Once I got a crossbow again, I always need more bolts.
[ Though anything not tipped with iron won't be very useful. ]
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Wood won't hold an edge for that.
[ not any wood she's used to working with, anyway. you could get maybe one use out of that if you're lucky. she looks him over though, thoughtful. ]
You don't need one. [ it seems like a waste, trying to apply clean lines to his face. ]
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No. I was thinkin' rock, if you're good at it. Or some scrap steel.
[ But her comment shuts him up again. He glances down like he has no idea what to do with it. ]
Nah, not for me. I got a friend who doesn't like his beard comin' in.
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[ mavis thinks through this as she explains. ]
I have never used one.
[ a razor, that is. but she gathers how others use them. ]
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[ He's already thinking of all the things he's going to have to trade for to get back on his feet here. What's one more thing?
But thoughts of planning for the future in this place make his expression darken up again. ]
You still stayin' in the woods?
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Downstairs, with Felipe.
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No kiddin'? Thought it was more complicated than that between you two.
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maybe this is proof that john and ari are right. that she's just mavis, still, no matter how it feels. ]
Complicated. [ she acknowledges. ] But he came back.
[ he'd been the one to leave in the first place. mavis isn't in the business of leaving if she isn't forced to. she doesn't know how to segue between these thoughts. ]
He is too weak to be alone. [ she says this dismissively instead. how pitiful he'd been about missing her. how he'd held her. she can't admit most of it, so she just falls back on the old stand-by that felipe is embarrassing. ]
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And that comment about weakness? Lydia, up and down. It's enough to put a slight, knowing smile on his face. ]
You like him.
[ The smirk can be heard in the statement. ]
You're allowed to, y'know. If he really ain't such an asshole. He did kill me for you, an' all.
[ Somehow he's able to say it without the stab of guilt cutting him in half. ]
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she isn't laughing, merely flustered by his amusement. but she sits with it for a silent moment after that, and then stretches out onto her back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. ]
He betrayed me. [ this gets its own space. ] I felt stupid. I trusted him. [ she settles her hands on her abdomen. ] Then he left. I felt stupid again. He didn't care about me.
[ she huffs out a breath. ]
He came back and made me stupid three ways. [ she looks over at daryl, smiling now a little. stupid, this time, for thinking he hadn't cared. he was a coward, yes, but stronger than she gave him credit for, given what he'd done to daryl for her, and given how he'd held her and come back to her and apologized. ]
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He doesn't rush her, he works in the silence as well as she does. ]
Okay, well. I'll punch him for ya.
[ He gets how that would make a person feel like they were being yanked around. He still doesn't understand the details of the problems and he'll never forget finding his camp deserted, but Felipe just seems harmless to Daryl, even now. Even after everything. ]
I think he does care about you. 'm pretty sure he's just the stupid one.
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Do not punch him. He is too fragile. [ and dumb, yes. but at least she feels better having articulated the complexity of it. he doesn't quite grasp the ins and outs, but the general pattern seems to have conveyed, and that's better than mavis expected.
it feels good. not being alone. ]
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But there it is. It makes him laugh too. ]
Alright.
[ If she wants to catch some sleep he isn't going to doze, but when Mavis gets comfortable Daryl pulls his legs up and lays out on his back. The ceiling is the safest place to look before he lets his eyes close. A rest won't kill him. ]
But he steals you again, an' he's gettin' punched.
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[ she huffs this out. after a beat though, she accepts, ] You can too.
[ just as long as they both understand that it's not on behalf of, not for, not a substitute for her own anger. she needs no representative to act on her behalf. ]
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Daryl. Where are you?
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Boarding house.
[ The roof, to be exact, where he spends most of his time just sitting and staring and trying not to think too much. At night, before he passes out and falls off, he slips back down to Jesse. ]
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[ Why would anyone want to see him right now? Especially Felipe, who he'd walked right into mortal danger? ]
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[ he's already on his way bitch. ]
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[ He can't stop him and more than that, Daryl doesn't want to. He doesn't want much of anything these days. He hasn't been able to since being knit back together in this prison. ]
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What are you doing?
[ he calls out when he spots the man. seeing him feels surreal after believing that he was dead for days. Felipe climbs over the roof to join him but leaves some distance between them, not even knowing himself why. ]
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[ And he is, up near the crown instead of at the edge like Felipe must have thought he might be, judging by his expression now. Daryl still doesn't know what to think of him after everything he's learned and everything that happened, but all just is what it is, isn't it?
And none of them are going anywhere. ]
Relax. [ He isn't stupid. He knows what Felipe is probably still thinking. ] Hurts too much comin' back. Don't recommend it.
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No shit.
[ how could it not hurt? it's unnatural, wrong and it involves magic. he despises it and yet he's glad that it's happened, relieved that Daryl is back. Felipe makes an awkward grunt in response as he climbs a little closer, almost breaking a sweat since it's difficult to move with a bunch of stitches decorating his side. ]
Making me climb up here... [ he mutters quietly, just filling the silence. Daryl, you could have reached out? it's a little rude. he looks to the other man, wants to reach out to him, but can't bring himself to do it. ] I saw Mavis.
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Yeah. I saw her too.
[ And somehow, against all odds, she hadn't been afraid of him. Not any more than he's afraid of Felipe now. Understanding what happened is a horror all in itself but it also brings a sort of numb calm that Daryl is clinging to.
He finally turns his head to watch Felipe struggle and then glances at his favored side. ]
That from me?
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I did worse.
[ a curt reply since he feels guilty and his vanity can't deal with being seen as weak. back at home he was the one hanging out on roofs, taking stupid risks leaping from one building to the next. now he's just a shadow of himself. not that he blames Daryl for any of that, it's all his own fault. ]
You know why I'm here, don't you?
[ they're the only people here who really know what happened in the forest. Felipe has been planning apologies in his head ever since, but now that he actually has an audience for them, he doesn't know where to start. ]
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Nope.
[ He doesn't know, not really. He can make an assumption, and maybe Felipe wants him to, so he does. ]
If it's to apologize, you ain't gotta. If it's to push me off for Mavis... [ He shrugs. ] Do what you gotta do.
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[ pretty sure he already got back at him for Mavis. if that even counts as payback because neither of them was responsible for their actions at the time. but Daryl guessed right. ]
I want to apologize. [ it's as much as for him as it's for Daryl. he hopes that Daryl understands. ] Will you let me do that? Properly?
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[ That gets a very slight raised eyebrow out of him, but he can't say he's surprised. Whatever had gone on between Felipe and her when she'd disappeared out of Daryl's camp is their business if she wants to keep it that way. She does seem like the punching type.
But the next look Felipe gets from Daryl is flat and non-plussed. A proper apology? ]
What, you gonna curtsy? [ But even the joke doesn't have barbs. He sighs and just looks off over the rooftops again for a moment. ]
Alright. Say it if you gotta. I ain't gonna stop you.
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[ dismissive. there's already a lot of history between him and Mavis and they've only been here for weeks. funny how time flies when you're messy as hell. ]
You aren't? [ Daryl better hold on to that promise because there's not going to be a warning as Felipe turns around to face him and pulls him into a hug, so tight it has to be uncomfortable for them both. one way to make this count. ] Listen. I'm so fucking... sorry.
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You don't-- like I said, man. You ain't gotta be sorry. I owe you.
[ So he finally wraps his other arm around Felipe, returning the gesture of the hug with a dose of thanks. ]
You... stopped me, is what y'did. From hurtin' anyone else.
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No. That's not how it went.
[ it was nothing but blind rage and violence. intense feelings he's now ashamed of. his grip of the other man tightens as he shifts his center closer to him so that they don't lose their balance and fall off. ]
You don't owe me anything. Shut up.
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His friends used to hug him like this sometimes. It isn't the worst thing. ]
How'd it go, then?
[ He doesn't have to ask very loudly. ]
'Cause from what I remember, I fought back. It... wasn't done for me.
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[ but that could have been just because Felipe riled him up again. ]
I think you saw me as a threat. Attacked me because I...
[ he lets out a ragged exhale. there's a heavy feeling in his chest sucking out all the air when he thinks back on what happened. he wishes he could concentrate on Daryl's arms instead. ]
You saw me with Mavis.
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He can't look at him. ]
I deserved it.
[ He feels like he deserved worse. That he still deserves worse. He should still be being punished; for what he did to her when he transformed, for getting them all out there in the first place. For everything. ]
You two would never have been out there if it weren't for me. It was my fault.
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Hey, you couldn't have stopped us from coming.
[ he wasn't even invited, remember? Felipe reaches to touch his shoulder gently. ]
Considering everything... I think we're even.
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But if death isn't the consequence it used to be, why should that be out of the question? He wouldn't wish resurrection on anyone but he's here to listen to Felipe's apology. If they're trapped, at least this one thing is given to them. ]
I couldn't accept that we're... stuck. But we are.
[ He reaches up and clasps Felipe's hand on his shoulder, squeezing it for a moment. For once, the last thing he'll be able to stand in the coming days is being alone. ]
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Are you okay?
[ he finally draws the hand back to himself, but pauses to watch Daryl. the resurrection process raises some questions, but he's not sure if he's curious enough to learn about it. best to go before he finds his mouth moving on its own as it usually does. ]
I should return to Mavis. I don't want her to be alone. You can come too, if you like.
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[ It's the only response he's had to give that question for over a decade. He's going to be okay, eventually, because he has to be. That's all there is to surviving. ]
Nah. [ He answers quickly though, shakes his head. ] She shouldn't have to look at me right now. Not for a while.
[ Not after what he'd done to her. ]
Go keep her company for me.
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Try not to fall off the roof.
[ he jokes, but the look he gives Daryl is dead serious. ]
See you later.
late evening,
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[ The agreement comes easy but the suspicion starts to build anyway. What sort of favour could this guy possibly need here? ]
Shoot.
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You okay, man? Where you at?
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[ He isn't one here, at least. ]
And it makes it weirder if you don't answer now.
What's going on?
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But he'll play along. The roof patrol is boring, anyhow. The town is as quiet as it gets tonight. ]
Seems like a pretty fucked up kinda mood.
[ A pause. ]
Twenty questions, then.
Shoot.
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You said the whole world was gone β were there any holdouts? Groups of survivors? What about the military? What was life like? Did you stay in one place or move around?
1/2
so many questions.
You ain't played this game before, huh?
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You're talking to one.
Miltary choked fast. Napalmed cities to stop the dead.
It didn't work.
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[ Just one question, he's learning! ]
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Couldn't rely on nothing else.
[ For some reason it's easier to be clear and honest in his head in a way he probably wouldn't be to someone's face. ]
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Sure.
Group we met would cut their skins off and wear em, lead the walkers from the inside.
They were a pain in the fucking ass.
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Masks just work better.
They'd skin and tan em, then lace em up the backs.
So hell yeah, it works.
[ He's done it enough to know. But that would be an answer to a question not yet asked and they're counting, after all. ]
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That implies a measure of sentience, or social cohesion. I have... a lot of questions about that, but you don't strike me as the scientific figures type. No offense, mate.
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Nah, what gave me away.
[ Not a real question. ]
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Wow. Getting into the weeds, though, I'd rather know... more about your experiences. Have you fought them?
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Sure.
I know there are some left, little packs of em that got away. But they scattered when we killed their leaders.
Got some friends who're real good at pulling off their same tricks, though.
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Did you leave a lot of friends behind when you came here?
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Yeah. A lot.
Didn't think I'd be able to live without em.
[ But he doesn't have a choice here. That's the whole problem. ]
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Yes, it's hard to go on after leaving people behind. How are you managing?
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[ He hasn't been fine a single day he's been here. ]
That's still one of your questions.
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I got nothing but time here.
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[ Still a bit salty about his own time spent as a statue, clearly. ]
You're being tortured, aren't you?
[ And that all but confirms Daryl's idling wondering about whether John's healing powers work on himself... and just how well. ]
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[ Or die. Either way he comes back to agony. It's all messy-swimmy in his head, he couldn't really speak to what has been done to him today or a week ago or what was just whispered through that porcelain fucking mask. Mostly he stays sane through this telepathic connection, just closing his eyes and pretending he's somewhere else, chatting, away from it all. ]
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[ What else is he supposed to say to that? He also hates how it's going to sound, but he has to know: ]
The fuck did the doc do up there that you jumped in front of?
[ He already knows it couldn't have been anything deserving of what John is talking around. ]
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Look, we probably could have both spent a little time in the art gallery and gone home with everyone else, but House doesn't handle paralysis well. I mean, not that anyone does. But he's got some hang-ups around being helpless like that.
[ John would rather be tortured to death repeatedly than have to stand by watching House live through being a free use statue, so he made the Duchess an offer she was more than happy to accept. ]
Then when I demonstrated I'm hard to poison she took an extra special interest. At this point it's past punishment and more like she's experimenting.
[ He doesn't know why it all spills out. Not like he told literally anybody else any of this, has hedged around why he's here, why he hasn't fought back. It's something about the intimacy of midnight confidences, combined with the sense of Daryl as somewhat stalwart, able to handle this information without getting all emotional on him. ]
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[ Stalwart, yes. More than John has even assumed. But emotionless? No, not after he'd spent the night paralyzed like John had saved House from. Like John had been before whatever is happening to him now. The fact that he would do that for someone, that he would take on torture on top of that to save someone what Daryl had gone through, it tears at him a little.
John has him after this. ]
So she's probably listening, too. [ The bitch. It means they're limited in what they can really say. ] I didn't see you there. Must have been outta my eyeline.
[ Or he'd been put there after Jesse had fixed his tie around Daryl's eyes as a blindfold, the only way Daryl had been able to block out some of the horrors in the room. A bandaid when he'd needed an amputation. ]
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[ A fact he is very slightly glad for - on the one hand, it did mean the staff who had been too busy working during the dinner had come to find he was one of their few remaining outlets. On the other hand, it meant not very many people he knows saw him like that, and he's not in a hurry to talk about it. Better to emphasize the torture and experimentation and the fucking spiders than... any of that.
Better to laugh it off and pretend he liked it. ]
I'm pretty sure she can hear everything, no matter what we do.
[ She's so powerful, in ways that he doesn't understand. It's like spending his life learning wine and being given a jug of vodka, he can tell there's stronger power there but all the complexities escape him. ]
But I don't have a lot of choice. So she can listen to twenty questions, and town gossip, and the Iron Bull thrashing me at chess.
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Alright, well.
You can ask more than twenty if you want.
[ There's a hint of dry, gallows humour that trickles through from him as well. It isn't the first time Daryl has had to find a way to make light of a hopeless situation to help out someone else. ]
You two gotta be close to take a fall like this.
You knew him before?
[ Usually Daryl wouldn't ask. Private lives are private and even when people share with him, he takes it as it is and doesn't ask for more. But obviously, the guy needs to talk tonight. ]
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[ Compared to his long life he's known House a fraction of an instant. But the trauma bonding in this place is off the charts. ]
Spent every day together since. He reminds me of life before everything went bad.
[ In the days before the world ended. When doctors worked in hospitals, when magic only happened on tv. ]
I don't want this place to break him.
[ He can't save everyone this time, but he can pick one person, one awful fragile human who plays guitar and makes John laugh, and shield him from as much of it as he can. ]
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But John has shared something that seems terribly fucking personal and Daryl knows the value and honour in vulnerability. ]
I got one of those here, too.
[ That's as much as he can do. It's a lot. But there's another offer he can make that comes much easier. ]
You let me know if you ever need help keeping that from happening. I owe you.
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[ He'll keep chatting a little for the next hour or so, mostly idle questions about infrastructure, if walkers ever rotted away to nothing, what kind of food Daryl ate during the apocalypse - maybe asking for camping tips, getting him talking about hunting and knives rather than anything personal. Interested in Daryl's passions as much as someone else's world, so different to his other despite all the ways it was the same. ]
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Ain't my business.
[ If it isn't his business he doesn't have to feel anything about it. It's working great. ]
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What? She's your friend.
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[ Terse. ]
And she made her choice, didn't she?
She alive?
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She's alive. I don't know how, but she gave up in the end. I wish I didn't have to see it.
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[ Stupid, sure. He definitely doesn't understand it. But he also knows he doesn't have the right to.
Until. ]
She did what?
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Before that, she wanted to stay dead.
The fuck would she give up for?
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You were there.
[ Daryl hadn't been able to go. He hadn't wanted to see it, whatever it was going to be. Maybe this is exactly why. ]
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That man is foul. A fucking monster who looks the same even when turned.
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Too bad Felipe is making sure that doesn't work. ]
Who the fuck is this guy, anyway?
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From what I understood they go way back and he hates her guts. He'll make her life a living hell.
He came after me while you were in the castle. Lifted me on the wall like it was nothing. And I just saw a knife being shoved into and out of his skull.
Every minute with him β she's going to suffer, Daryl. Or worse.
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He's already up and on his way to the gates, intending to find the location of the fight himself. To read what's left. ]
What's he fight like?
Describe it to me.
[ If he comes from the same place Mavis does, Daryl is already making some frightening assumptions about what else this fucker can do. ]
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He started with a knife but finished with his hands. Well trained and stronger than anyone I've seen.
Ruthless. Vicious.
I don't think he can do what Mavis does, but he can heal fast. It's why he didn't even care when I pulled my dagger on him earlier.
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He'd needed help that last time. Negan's help. Maybe he's going to need help again before this is over. ]
He can't do what she does but he still won?
How?
[ How can someone with a knife out-fight a damn mind-reader, no matter how strong they are? ]
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But he was fast about it, too.
Guess that's how they survived?
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[ sorry but that includes Mavis too. fucking freaks. ]
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[ It was weird as hell, but John sure had healed the burns that had been torturing Daryl after the boarding house fire. ]
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People do where I'm from.
[ people β like Farrah. ]
But it's different.
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[ Because every detail about a connection like this matters to Daryl. Anything could end up being useful. ]
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Some people are born with them. We don't know why it happens, but they're marked. Cursed.
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From person to person?
Besides heal, you ain't seen him do anything else?
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I've only ever seen him against Mavis and I think they had some rules regarding that fight. Mavis said it was supposed to be fair.
[ his opinion of that is obvious. bullshit. but there was less magic involved than he thought there'd be. ]
What are you planning?
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But I know trouble when I hear it.
She told me he killed her people. All of em.
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You know, the very first time we spoke, she warned me of him.
I've been thinking about it ever since, but I wasn't able to protect her anyway.
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It don't make sense.
[ He would never yield to an enemy like that. Never. He'd been in the position before and didn't even flinch.
If he's going to die (
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It wasn't a fair fight. I know it.
[ something's off and he hates it. ]
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[ He has to assume. ]
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I'll talk to her.
[ dibs. ]
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It isn't until Felipe says he'll talk to her that two-and-two clicks for Daryl: she'd survived but she hasn't said shit to him about it yet. Maybe she isn't going to. ]
She even allowed to talk to us anymore?
[ It isn't like he knows any of the stupid rules this fight was conducted by. ]
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I'll get back to you.
[ but he never does. lol! ]
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They don't say much that night, just fall into bed wrapped around each other the way they have been for weeks, the way that's become a habit without Jesse noticing. And then nothing much changes for a little while. Jesse bounces early the next morning, needing to clear his head for a little while, and when he's back Daryl's gone. He comes back smelling like booze, but he comes back that night and every other - sometimes with fresh-cut firewood or small animals he'd caught and skinned out in the woods, sometimes with nothing but a hangover to show for it - but always returning to curl up and sleep together. Just sleep, nothing else.
Jesse wakes up one morning a few weeks later, opening his eyes to gaze at the sunlight streaming in the tiny window. Daryl's still got one arm slung heavy over his waist, but he's awake. Jesse somehow just knows. And suddenly he knows with just as much clarity that he doesn't wanna spend the day kicking around town by himself, avoiding both the tavern and the woods to give Daryl the space he hasn't asked for but clearly wants. He doesn't wanna wait for him to trudge in late at night from wherever he's spending his days and fall in bed together without talking. ]
Hey.
[ He speaks just loud enough for Daryl to hear, not looking back at him. ]
You wanna...do somethin' today?
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It's the only sliver of time in the day that he feels at peace in this place. Listening to Jesse breathe steadily, feeling the warmth of his slow heartbeat as he sleeps. It's the last moments before they get up and part ways that he knows the both of them are safe.
He'd brought the smell of woodsmoke from preserving a kill into their bed with him when he'd 'forgotten' to take off his shirt for the tenth time and it lingers with them now. He's been thinking that he's been getting away with this quiet strategy for all this time but then Jesse stirs and speaks to him without looking. Like he knows exactly what Daryl's been doing.
It's a little unsettling. Daryl shifts slightly, distinctly unaware that they've never actually talked while wrapped up together like this. Especially not first thing in the morning. Like a lazy fucking Sunday. ]
...Like what?
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But Daryl doesn't say no, and despite himself, Jesse's heartbeat quickens a little in anticipation. Hope, maybe. ]
I dunno.
[ He can't leave it like that, though, can't risk losing Daryl's interest so soon, so he races to think up some idea before he just changes his mind and decides to fuck off to the woods again instead. ]
We could just...walk around town? See what's up? Like...people watch. Eat some food that's not squirrel.
[ There's a pause. ]
No offense, I mean, the squirrel's really, really good, but, y'know. Something different could be good too.
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What's the point if he can't get out? ]
You wanna go for a walk. An' get lunch.
[ Deadpan, like he's making sure he's translated Jesse's idea of the day correctly. ]
Alright.
[ He sits up, like it's that simple, and then he pretends like his heart isn't beating sort of funny while he climbs over Jesse to start digging in his pack for a fresh(ish) shirt. ]
What, don't like eatin' your cousins?
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Really?
[ Shit, really. His heart starts beating faster too, thumping with unexpected excitement, only for it all to come crashing down a second later. He balks at Daryl's joke, misinterpreting it for a moment before remembering that Daryl hadn't been at dinner at the castle and realizing what he really means. ]
Ha ha. Fuckin' hilarious.
[ But he doesn't really mind the dig, not when Daryl's already pulling on a fresh shirt, clearly willing to go along with him. Jesse scrambles out of bed and starts rummaging around for clean clothes of his own, shooting sidelong glances at Daryl the whole time. It's not a big deal, just wandering around the tiny village and finding something to eat. So why's he suddenly nervous? He finds himself rambling, like he's trying to win Daryl over even though he'd already said yes. ]
There's this cafe, they got the most amazing fuckin' pastries. The fuckin' bomb, you, you've never had anything like 'em.
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Usually not much for sweet stuff.
[ But it sounds dismissive as soon as he says it and Daryl turns back around quickly once he's dressed, shrugging a little. Trying to keep calm and chill like this is all totally normal.
Because getting lunch with your friend is totally normal. ]
But I'll try. If you say it's good.
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Cool.
[ Even once he's dressed, though, he still can't quite keep that hint of a smile off his face, sneaking sidelong glances at Daryl as he opens the door. ]
You been around town much?
[ Other than the bar and the boarding house, he's not sure how much Daryl has even seen. ]
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Not more'n I needed to.
[ Not more than was useful to him while he was trading for the things he needed and then packing up to make his run through the void. He knows his way around, he even knows the business that Jesse is talking about, but he hasn't visited any of them. He'd never been planning to stay long enough for it to matter. He'd fed himself and kept to himself and that had been that.
He tries not to let the train of thought darken his mood too much and he slaps Jesse genially on the back as he moves past him through the doorway. He even forces up a tight but genuine smile to give him. ]
Guess I got no excuse now, huh?
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It's stupid, really, how much he's suddenly looking forward to this. But he hasn't done anything like it - gone out exploring a new place just to see it, just to spend time with someone else - since he went up to Santa Fe with Jane. It's been a long, long time. When Daryl gives him a cheerful pat on the back, it's just the cherry on top, the push Jesse needs to tip right over into happy. ]
Guess you don't.
[ It's almost chipper, a goofy grin on his face that more than makes up for the strain in Daryl's own expression. He clatters energetically down the stairs and out the door, stopping outside to give Daryl a chance to catch up with him and falling easily into step beside him. ]
Is there anything you wanna see? [ Like...? He scrunches up his face, thinking. ] Hunting...supply stores, or anything?
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It isn't an accident, he thinks, Jesse bouncing back like this. He's a survivor.
But of a different type from Daryl, evidently. That's also been clear from the very start. ]
You don't know the first thing 'bout huntin', do you?
[ But there's such fondness in the question because Daryl knows what the offer really is. He wants to do what Daryl wants to do. It's sweet. It scares him a little. ]
I dunno. [ He hesitates, not sure if he wants to admit what he'd really like to do. ] I saw a place that looked like it was full of books.
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Bu even so, the suggestion Daryl does offer is so unexpected, so the last possible thing Jesse would ever have either expected from him or thought to look for himself, it yanks him back a step. ]
Books?
[ He says the word like he's never heard it before. Daryl might as well have suggested they go find a store full of eels, or sawdust shavings. But he catches himself almost instantly, before Daryl can get self-conscious or try to walk it back, and nods enthusiastically, his expression clearing. ]
Yeah. Oh, yeah, I think I saw that one. It's down this way.
[ Definitely a bookstore down this street, definitely not somewhere he'd ever so much as slowed down in front of up until now. But he leads the way confidently, shooting a curious look at Daryl. ]
You like reading?
wheeze that was so ic of him
He feels a little self-conscious stab in his chest, something that he'd thought he'd left behind a long time ago. Other people's opinions of him, assumptions. It's uncomfortable, unbalancing. He knows what he looks like, but does he need to be reminded? ]
What? You got somethin' to say about it?
[ It's only a little accusing. Mostly he sounds disappointed, though he can't get a handle on the feeling. Maybe he's even a shade of hurt. ]
I spend plenty of time alone. [ He shrugs, watching the street instead of Jesse now. ] It's nice.
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[ Had Daryl thought he was judging him for reading? No, Jesse realizes a beat later, catching the unhappy look on Daryl's face, the way his shoulders have hunched slightly upward defensively. He'd thought he was just...judging him. Like someone like Daryl couldn't possibly have hobbies like reading.
It's enough to make him stop in his tracks in front of Daryl, turning to face him so he has to stop too and meet Jesse's eyes. ]
No, man. It's not that. It's just - [ He shrugs, and now it's Jesse's turn to feel self-conscious, looking away. What if Daryl thinks he's stupid, or not worth his time? Just a worthless druggie, with no interests beyond chasing the next high. ]
I just...always thought it was kinda boring.
[ "Kinda" is an understatement. He can't think of anything he'd like less to do with his time. Reading. For fun. ]
(cw: feminization, family abuse)
He relaxes, rolling his eyes because yeah, he hadn't made much of a thing of it before the the walkers had changed everything. Drinking was better, drugs were the best, and if Merle had ever caught him with a book, that would have been it for Daryl - all he would have heard about for a year. Darlina, the book worm. On and on.
Nah, he's learned to enjoy it. So he just shrugs. ]
You learn to like a lot of borin' stuff durin' the end of the world. And after, when there's nothin' left.
[ And then he just steps past him and walks on, like he hasn't just opened an insane door wide for Jesse to walk through. ]
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He might not even have had a TV. So yeah, in the lack of any real entertainment options, Jesse can kind of see it. And then Daryl keeps talking and Jesse's left standing there, mouth open, just staring at Daryl as he walks past like he hadn't just dropped the biggest bombshell Jesse's ever heard. ]
What?
[ He finally remembers how to move, half-jogging to catch up with Daryl, ambling along like everything's normal. Had he heard that right? He couldn't have, right? ]
End of the what?
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Imagine that. ]
When the dead started comin' back to life. [ He shrugs, pure nonchalance. It's been so many years that none of it feels or sounds fantastic to him anymore. ] Power went fast. Radio stayed, of course, but there were no broadcasts or nothin'.
But they bombed the cities fast. Everything felt different after that.
[ Just walking, chatting, like he's talking about construction that happened in his hometown. ]
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[ He stares at Daryl, disbelieving, just this side of indignant - but also just a little bit uncertain. It's not the kind of joke he can see Daryl making, especially out of nowhere like this. Bombing cities? He wouldn't joke about that.
But it also can't be real, what he's saying. Because it doesn't make any sense. It's impossible, and if it wasn't, Daryl wouldn't be talking about it like this, like it's nothing. ]
Yo, knock it off, come on. I think it's cool. That you read.
[ He only wishes he could see the appeal itself. It sure would've made school a lot less boring. Maybe he wouldn't have turned out like such a major fuckup, disappointed his parents and everyone else. But there's no reason for Daryl to make all this up just to justify it, or mess with Jesse for his reaction. ]
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[ But it feels strangely difficult for him to elaborate. Most people here had been either primed to believe him already or outright interested in knowing more. Mavis had seemed confused but open-minded, John had wanted to know everything.
Jesse just seems to think it's impossible for some reason. Daryl's allergy to going into unasked-for detail is rearing its ugly head. ]
No. You don't.
[ But he's settled about it, isn't taking it as personally now that he understands where Jesse's disbelief had been coming from. It makes sense that he wouldn't be into reading. How many meth dealers has Daryl ever met who carried a book with them? ]
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[ But he can only sound so convincing. Cool is pushing it a little, after all. Or a lot. The point is, he doesn't think Daryl's less cool because of it.
The bigger question is this end of the world thing. This dead coming to life thing. He keeps pace with Daryl, head turned to stare at him instead of watching where he's going. It's a wonder he doesn't run straight into a wall or something and knock himself out. ]
Who bombed what cities?
[ There's still a tinge of uncertainty in his voice - he doesn't want to fall for anything like a gullible asshole. But he just can't figure out why Daryl would lie about something like that, either. ]
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You really wanna know?
[ It pains him a little, to think that Jesse might not believe him. He doesn't want to lay it out and show all his broken cards from a slow-healing world if Jesse isn't even going to understand. ]
Military. [ As far as he knows, anyway. ] They used napalm, tryin' to take out walkers, or maybe people. Tryin' to keep them from becomin' walkers. [ He shrugs. ] It didn't work. Cities were hotspots for years.
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The thing is, it kind of makes sense, with what he knows about Daryl. The way he'd naturally gravitated towards setting up camp in the woods, easily dismissing the modern (well, modern-ish) conveniences offered in town. How good he is at hunting. At surviving on almost nothing. Like he's been doing it for years.
Like someone living after the end of the world would. ]
Walkers...
You mean...you mean fuckin' zombies. Right?
The dead.
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Why does everyone keep usin' that word?
[ He's heard everything under the sun that a survivor could think to call the dead come back to life, but not until that green-haired girl in the rain had called his life some cheap horror movie has he heard that word before. ]
It doesn't describe nothin' they do. Biters, lamebrains, geeks. [ That had been his at first, it had never caught on. ] Skin-eaters, roamers. Lurkers, if that's what they're doin'. We called 'em walkers because you had to call 'em something.
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[ It's just a word. It's what they are. Daryl's words are very descriptive, though, and Jesse makes a face. Skin-eaters? Fucking gross. ]
Holy shit.
[ He mutters to himself, still looking at Daryl with new eyes. ]
You really -
Why didn't you ever tell me you were from the fuckin' zombie apocalypse, man?
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Hell, maybe Jesse and the green-haired girl are from the same version of the world. ]
You didn't ask.
[ He quite literally hadn't. But he stops to look at Jesse properly, to let him see that Daryl is being completely serious. ]
My world... [ Shit, that will never not sound impossibly weird to Daryl, ] It was like yours. Thirteen years ago.
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[ Come on. Even Daryl has to know better than that. No, neither of them have talked much about their lives before all this, but there's no way by the way, I'm straight outta Dawn of the Dead shouldn't have been number one on the list.
But Jesse stops when Daryl does, attentively listening now that Daryl's actually sharing information with him. ]
Thirteen...
[ Thirteen years. He can see it, actually. If anyone's capable of surviving over a decade in a hellish, zombie-infested wasteland, it's Daryl. ]
What's it like?
[ What kind of life has he built, thirteen years on? The words come out softer, Jesse's eyes alert and fixed on Daryl. He doesn't seem to mind talking about it, at least so far, but he doesn't want to push too hard. ]
You're with your brother? Right?
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Of all the things Daryl isn't expecting to feel after being asked the question, it's lost. How can he even start to tell him? What exactly does he want to know? What the world was like for so long, what he's done? All the impossible things he's seen people accomplish, all the horror he's learned others are capable of? All the death, the unending, ever-present threat of loss?
All of it and nothing shows on his face for a flash but when Jesse asks about his brother, Daryl looks away. Blinks to clear his eyes. How has it all hit him so fast, with just a couple of questions? ]
Nah. I lost him.
[ He swallows, trying to grind down on the rush of emotions because damn it, they're in public and there's no point in getting worked up about any of this. He's fucking stuck here, he's trapped and the only way he'll survive to finally get free is if he doesn't do this to himself. He knows that. He's been trying. ]
I was lookin' for him when I... [ Ended up here. With you. ] But I don't wanna talk about him.
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He feels like shit immediately, dropping his gaze and nodding quickly when Daryl says he doesn't wanna talk about it. ]
Yeah. Yeah, no problem.
[ But it doesn't seem like enough. His hand twitches, almost like he wants to take Daryl's. Reach for him, try to offer some sort of comfort.
It's a stupid instinct. What kind of comfort could someone like Jesse ever offer? Daryl had lost his brother. ]
I'm sorry, man.
[ He speaks softly, flicking a sorrowful, genuinely regretful look up at Daryl's face. ]
For real.
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But maybe he understands a little better now why Daryl has somewhere else he needs to be. ]
So when I left. [ Into the void, into disaster. ] It wasn't that...
[ That he'd necessarily wanted to leave him, or even that he hadn't considered taking him along. It was all just so much more complicated than he'd been able to put into words. It still is. ]
I've just gotta find him, y'know? To bring him back to his family. Like I promised I would.
[ But he reaches out and squeezes Jesse by the shoulder, his way of saying that he doesn't blame him for asking. ]
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[ He gets it. He hadn't been mad before, about Daryl deciding to leave to find his brother. He'd never questioned his priorities even for a second. He'd just been hurt that Daryl hadn't thought to tell him he was going.
Jesse gives him a small smile, sad but grateful, when he squeezes his shoulder. He knows he hadn't wanted to talk about it, but Daryl hadn't snapped at him, or pushed him away. When's the last time someone had opened up to him like that? He's not sure he even knows. ]
I'm glad you're still here.
[ He says it softly, almost a confession. It's not that he'd wanted Daryl to fail, when he'd tried to escape through the void. But selfishly...he doesn't know where he'd be now, if Daryl wasn't still here with him. ]
But you'll find him again. I know you will.
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It all suddenly seems to make a stupid amount of sense. ]
You got too much faith in me.
[ He manages a little smile, small but almost shy, way too vulnerable. He balances it by shoving Jesse by the shoulder, turning him to get him moving and walking again. ]
You've only seen me fail.
[ He's failed to get out of this place, failed to keep Jesse safe, especially from himself. Failed to stay alive. Failed to recover from that on his own without clinging to Jesse for sanity. He's on a roll here, as far as he's concerned. ]
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Can he really believe that? How? Daryl's saved him, again and again. He's never stopped trying from the moment Jesse met him. Looking after people. Fighting to get back to his brother. Making a home here, hunting for food, doing everything in his power to keep the monster at bay even as it threatens to overwhelm him.
Jesse just can't see how he can really believe what he's saying. He shakes his head, his eyes sad, but he doesn't know how to even start to argue back, if Daryl's that convinced. So when he looks up and sees the sign for the bookshop overhead, he seizes onto the distraction. ]
Hey. [ He nudges Daryl's shoulder, then nods up at the sign. ] We're here.
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Enough that when Jesse points out the bookstore, he actually feels a flare of interest. It's the same place he remembers seeing and he holds the door for Jesse, comfortable enough with the businesses here that he doesn't feel the need to check for safety. But he slouches when they enter, instantly more aware of himself and making himself smaller without realizing he's doing it. The feeling of not belonging in a place like this hits him like humidity.
He lowers his voice, looking around like someone might kick him out. ]
I've never been inside before.
[ No time, no point, he'd told himself. Now he's surprised to think of all the books that have been sitting here all this time, holding information that could be important. ]
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It takes him a second to realize Daryl isn't at his side, and he turns around to find him lingering behind, looking nervous and uncomfortable. Jesse frowns, falling back beside him. ]
Yeah, me neither.
[ No surprise there. He hesitates, looking at Daryl, but gets the sense that calling him out on how he kinda looks like he wants to turn and run out the door might prompt him to do just that. Instead, he leans his hip against a nearby display table, paging idly at a book resting on top and doing his best to exude an air of casual relaxation, in the hopes it'll rub off on Daryl. Huh. Looks like this is the foreign language section. ]
So...what kinda books are you into?
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Whatever I can find, really. Last one I read was about pirates.
[ He answers off-hand, quietly, like they're in a library. Not that he's ever had any library experience in his life. But he sounds distracted, maybe a little confused, and he starts to take odd books off the shelves to look at the inner pages. ]
You see any in English?
text
[ Does he??? Or is House just incapable of communicating normally? It's a mystery. ]
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Yeah? Tell me something I don't know.
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You don't know much about me, huh?
[ But admittedly booze wasn't his first round survival priority. ]
You sharing or selling?
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I'll owe you.
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How are you with burying bodies?
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Done it a hundred times.
Who's dead?
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[ Also he forgot about them while he was in the woods and now they're gross. ]
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But I'm adding the tax of you telling me what the hell you were doing with em.
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Tell me the goal. Get a hole.
In the ground.
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The goal was to see what happened when spider venom is introduced to the human bloodstream.
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So what happened?
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[ He just hopes he'll understand the broad strokes. ]
Assume I'm bringing my own shovel?
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Yes, bring your own shovel. And maybe a tarp.
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Explains a lot.
[ Except the night that John had slid into Daryl's head for distraction, he'd told him he'd given himself up for torture to save House from exactly what Daryl had gone through up at the castle. So he doesn't say anything more than that.
But fucking spider venom, huh? Shit. ]
You supposed to have these? Or are we keeping a secret?
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Of course it's a secret. But nobody has come to check it out yet and I haven't been turned into a newt or a frog, so I think we're in the clear.
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Hope your new trivia was worth the risk. Put em by the door, I'll be there soon.
text ik we literally have another thread but this is important
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How do you feel about matchsticks?
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[ They can bet Danny some other time. Once things escalate. ]
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[ Don't make him think about all the things they've done and watched each other do that he'd never have done with his brothers, blood-related or not. ]
Who all's playing?
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Can't believe you found a deck of cards here.
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We'll treat em nice, then.
text, mid yuleorgy π
π
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these?
ποΈ
ποΈ
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Or just trying to get under my skin?
[ And to think he'd thought they were past this. ]
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because you're moping
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[ He said, moping. ]
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you're my friend
duh
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Why're you just watching? [ Staring. ]
No boyfriends this time?
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they're just boyfriends now
[ Plain and simple, accompanied by a shrug of her shoulders as she steals a ripe peach. ]
i'm here for the free shit lol
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Do I say sorry?
[ He's certainly feeling sorry for himself, now that whatever he'd been doing with Jesse is over. ]
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but im pretty much over it
[ (She isn't. Sort of.) ]
theyre doing their thing and im doing my thing
the end
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What's your thing?
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[ So much for flirting. ]
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Don't mind her as she blows a kiss his way. You know, just to normally grab his attention again. ]
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So why don't you feel like an audience this time?
[ Maybe if he makes her uncomfortable she'll stop making him uncomfortable? ]
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why? sad you can't watch? π
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No.
Last time was a fluke.
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do you want me to?
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[ Not if he has to say it. ]
Free food's gonna run out soon anyway. Since that's all you're here for.
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i'm only asking bc i dont want to bother you
or like feel like im forcing my company
i WOULD like to hang but
you are moping
and i dont even know WHY still
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Just come sit.
[ He waits until she does before he gives her what she wants, still just a flicker between their minds because for some reason it feels way easier to talk about it this way. Silently, only the outsides of their thighs pressed together on the bench as the rest of the room ruts and moans in front of them. ]
Jesse broke it off.
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She leans back into her seat, spreads her legs until her knees are fully knocking his. ]
damn
sorry..
was it like
recently??
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Even though he'd never be dishing to her then. He drains the cup he'd only been toying with when she'd been across the room. ]
When we all got back from the void.
Said it was better this way.
[ In so many words. Daryl doesn't exactly want to relive the specifics of the night. ]
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There's a tilt of her head up to the barn roof, nose sniffling because germs. Animal fur. Residual fuck fluids in the air. She's not speaking fully, but her tone is gentle. Almost wry, ]
you know
my first boyfriend didn't even break up w/ me properly
he said we should go on a break
& then he started dating my stalker
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No shit?
[ He schools his expression again and turns back to face the room, his knee nudging hers in apology for what she said, for breaking their silence, all of it. They're supposed to not be obviously talking, right?
Totally normal behaviour. ]
That's insane. Fuck that guy.
Who the hell would break up with you?
[ He knows how most guys think and he can see Lottie, after all. ]
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sunny is okay
his only crime was being beefy and dumb
[ And maybe a subpar boyfriend, but before coming here Lottie only had the one. She isn't sure if her time with John or House would technically compare or be on the list (she does know there was something, enough to be exes). She'd be a terrible judge regardlessβ she doesn't know what a good partner really looks like. ]
we were dating for a long time anyway
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[ That time he does snort. Even shakes his head because that's fucking hilarious. ]
Sorry. That explains it.
How long's long?
[ Wait, how the hell had they started talking about her? Oh well. ]
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lol
[ She is so serious (also trust the process Daryl!!). ]
about five years
my friends and family thought we were gonna get married
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Ain't no way you got your heart broke by a goddamn weatherman.
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his last name is kim
also he was my photographer
ANYWAY POINT IS he didn't give me anything before our 'break up'
but at least you got smth
that means jesse cares obvi, you know?
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Bad vibe for an orgy. ]
Got something? You mean a goodbye?
Yeah it was great.
[ /s ]
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didnt talk to me for like a month
gave me no reason btw
dated someone else
end of story
[ And then she like, sexted him or whatever but that doesn't make for a good story!! ]
break ups in any capacity aren't 'GREAT' but like
at least yours there's no bad blood
and i know he's just thinking abt you anyway so
he's doing that manpain thing
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Did you have to watch him fall apart slowly in front of you?
[ It just comes out. He's worried about him, hasn't said so out loud to anyone else. But Jesse's fucked up all the time now, already looks like he's lost weight. And he doesn't have much to spare. ]
Whatever. I gave him what he wanted.
[ Speaking of that manpain thing... ]
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okay like no offense now YOU'RE making it a competition
[ But speaking of that manpain thingβ ]
what do you even mean??
was he like.. crying??
how bad?
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But it turns out he was desperate for someone to ask. ]
Nah, he's.. bad.
Using again. Drinking all the time.
He didn't bounce back like you did.
[ Not after the cages. The void. He doesn't want to conjure either of those things here so he can't even 'not' say it in his head. ]
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Some part of her wants to laugh at thatβ if Daryl thinks she's bounced back then good. She's still got it. It means she's doing exactly what she needs to do to seem normal, hopefully the very same as she slides a hand to his side. Jostles her pinky against his, a subtle show of comfort that works for the both of them. ]
i didn't even know drugs existed here...
and he hasn't talked to you since? :(
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Well he found em.
I think he used to be good at that.
[ But her question is complicated. ]
He told me I scare him.
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okay.... idgi
how?
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Freaked him out more than you, I guess.
[ Jesse knows the world Daryl comes from, but knowing and seeing are two different things, it turns out. He'd never told Jesse that he was a killer. He'd had to find out as a witness. But so had Lottie. ]
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well like
how many people
like my people?
one??
one isn't that bad
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The number don't matter. 'Cause there ain't no number back home.
And now he's seen it.
[ He couldn't put a number on his kills back home if he tried. He's been a soldier for years and years. The world is almost all death where he comes from and it's the only way of life left. ]
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he'll understand eventually
you had a reason
and you wouldn't do stuff like that without one
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So you're just saying what you think I wanna hear.
[ He shifts beside her, suddenly more aware of himself. Of her. Of the entire room. ]
It's nice and all but you don't know what you're talking about.
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It's true, Lottie is a chronic people pleaser. But she likes to think she wouldn't lie about this, not when she feels so strongly about Daryl. The fact he's making her doubt herself is even worse, makes her draw her body away to get those few centimeters of distance back. ]
sure
[ Her gaze goes back to the crowd, jaw sharp, lips pursed. ]
i definitely don't know what i'm talking about
β 12.17
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[ And that's exactly how much he'll commit to, given all he knows about Felipe. ]
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--to voice;
[ He picks up the voice connection like someone cutting off an answering machine. This is all feeling too high school for him. ]
He's a flake. He helped kidnap Mavis, I watched him try an' justify it to her. [ But he'd also tried to help Daryl get home that same trip. Had killed him for killing Mavis, just like he deserved. It's complicated. ] He thinks he's someone he ain't.
voice
Do you hate him? Because like...everyone does, but I can't keep both eyes on him all the time. I can barely keep one eye on him. I need--help, I need help.
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[ Felipe had set out to help Daryl once. But a lot's happened between then and now and he's no grown adult's babysitter. ]
He ain't your responsibility. Or mine. He's yellin' at our psycho overload, for fuck's sake.
cw: suicide mention
[ Okay, maybe he has just enough energy to work up to frustrated again. ]
Look, I know we all love a good hanging, but I dunno, I fucking--I like him, and he's losing his mind, and everyone here is just chill about it. I know he's fucking--old timey sexist! I get it. I know. But is any of this helping? It's not like he can off himself and leave people alone, letting him fester and go insane is only going to make more fucking problems, because he doesn't understand! These people are like those assholes that speak full sentences to their dogs and wonder why they aren't trained! Dogs can't speak English! They don't understand!
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Dogs learn what you teach 'em. He ain't learning.
[ Not that that's what Daryl's concerned about now. Or at all, really. ]
You don't even like me an' you're beggin' for my help. [ Why sugar coat it? ] Your friends don't like him. That means nothin' to you?
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Yeah, I'm the problem. Not the guy you're tryin' to protect from consequences.
I ain't climbin' up on the cross with you.
π
Great. Thanks for the help.
[ He's out! ]
mid/post felipe's duchess call out.
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What he's talking about sounds different.
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[ The capability for sadism. ]
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And maybe something that seeks our attention.
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If it wanted to lure us out there they wouldn't have scared Felipe so bad.
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[ You're talking to someone who doesn't gossip, Nikolai. ]
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If there's something he knows that can help us prevent this from happening, we'll need to find it out.
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β 12.26 . voice
--help, I need--HELP ME, Daryl, I need help, I need help, I need help, I can't reach town, I need help--
[ Images rush in: blurry trees that he races by, winter-brown plants under his feet, Felipe's body in the tree, a knife, a knife, a knife a knife and then its
[ gone ]
no response needed from the dead boy, obvi
Quentin? [ He calls back and gets nothing. ] Quentin?
[ When he still gets no response at all he's up and active in seconds, leaving a final message as he gets his shit together to begin his hunt. ]
Quentin where the fuck are you?
knock knock me again, right after q's post hits
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[ He means Danny, who he's more preoccupied about right now. Quentin's in for a rough time whatever happens and he knows he has a fan club to look after him. Daryl's never been much to have around emotionally. ]
laughing abt the gun icon
[ Feels so incredibly hollow, no bulwark against Nikolai's regrets. ]
But he's not going anywhere. Even after the Moot Hall, presuming he attends.
he mad
[ Daryl had just thought he was twisted. Broken. A real slut, to be honest. He hadn't actually been expecting this. ]
There was no telling that kid anything anyway.
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It doesn't matter. It's over for him now, but I don't know whether or not it's finished for Danny.
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[ He knows it doesn't matter. Somehow, despite how much Daryl isn't a gossip, he can't help asking. How had it happened to Quentin so similarly to the way it had happened to him? ]
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Quentin cares deeply for so many of us here. It worried me to see him give that much of himself to someone who seemed too eager to absorb it.
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[ And a big mouth, but Daryl has the grace to keep that to himself. ]
Does anyone have eyes on Danny? Did he have help, you think?
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Kovacs is standing guard outside Quentin's cabin.
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[ Something tells Daryl that Danny is going to want Quentin to come to him, but he doesn't want to be cynical enough to say it. ]
Don't mean he ain't still dangerous. He got any reason to have beef with you?
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I think you're right, he'll leave it alone for the time being. It's when things quiet down that we'll have to worry.
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[ That what they're calling it these days? ]
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We enjoy each other's company.
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Better watch your back.
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But I think we'll have some time before there's any real threat from him. The outcry is too much at present.
post 3/17 moot hall.
Daryl?
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[ Straightforward, without any innuendo or double-talk to dress up the answer. Daryl has more than earned honesty from him. ]
Nikita and I are housing people in the tavern. I need help making sure they stay safe from that mob, especially when we need to start making supply runs.
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On my way.
Who you got working doors already?
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[ where we means Void-Touched, specifically. ]
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[ She's the first person he thinks of, strength and trust rolled into one. ]
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[ """""retrieve""""" ]
Is she someone I should seek out for this as well?
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She likes the Rubeans. [ Too much, in his opinion. ] Wants to fit in with them.
But she's protective of us. She'd help if someone asked.
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end.
[ He's pretty sure she'd do anything for him, but he doesn't want to ever have to test that conviction. ]
β text
any chance you're looking for a side hustle? i can pay in weed or my amazing company ( and not one moment of peace and quiet in your future, daryl )
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[ In other words, is he actually going to end up having to hurt somebody? ]
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[ Great. ]
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also you have a gun?
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You've seen my bow. Who needs a gun?
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you have a fair point, good sir
you are a man of true skill
hey
can you teach me sometime
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What for? You a hunter?
[ Doubt. ]
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[ He's not saying no. Just wondering what enemies this labradoodle could possibly have. ]
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he and his goons keep targetting the greenhouse
he's up zlatka's ass
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Guess if you're farmin you can afford the bow you'll need to practice.
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i'll tell you about my enemies when i need to know how to shoot 'em
mhmmm
who makes the best ones?
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Got mine from Yuri. He knew how to deal with the mods I wanted.
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oh teach me your ways, wise master
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actual rabbit food
fruits and veggies
unless you want something else for tradsies?
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I don't trade in that.
[ Not a buyer or a seller. Either way you cut it, the thought alone makes him feel cheap. ]
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Shut up.
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now i'm curious
come on, entertain me
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[ The last thing he ever wants to be - someone's entertainment. ]
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Or fuckin
tomatoes or somethin.
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maybe i was gonna let you listen to some of the metallica records i've got squirreled away and not bumping eggplants together
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If you're serious then
yeah alright.
[ That actually sounds... nice. ]
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house left them behind
idk if u knew him
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[ /s ]
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what'd he do?
voice.
[Approximately thirty seconds later.]
Sorry, I forgot that's what you say to someone when you want to break up with them. Uh, I'm Joan. Gabe-- Fifty? He's my roommate. I heard about what happened. Is- are you okay? Is there anything I can... do?
...And, uh, someone's gone missing. I'm told you're good at searching for people?
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Guess you ain't surprised him the wrong way yet. Guy's a dick.
[ The stabbing would have been one thing. The attitude he'd gotten from him after it all had been what felt like the twist of the knife. ]
Yeah, sure. Depends who's missin'. [ Because if it's Gabe... ]
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[It does bring out a ghost of Joan's own real accent, the slightest sliver of a Texan drawl.]
We tried to kill each other, first time we met up. I know what he's like. I ain't here to make excuses for him, or anybody. What he did to you was wrong, and I hope you're getting what you're owed outta it.
[What else can she say but that?]
The boy-- man. The guy who runs the library, Wesley? We think he might've been kidnapped, but searching in town is... shit's bad in town.
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Why d'you care? Just 'cause you're roommates don't make him your responsibility.
[ Oh, the library guy. Daryl's seen him around enough for the hook of responsibility to tug at him. Guy never gives him shit when he returns books late. Or stained. ]
Think, huh? Shit's bad but it don't mean he ain't here. If he's gone silent what makes you think he's still alive? [ He hates the network but he has to admit it's convenient. ] Or ain't we expectin' to find him that way?
[ Alive, that is, because yeah. It's 'we're' already. He likes the library but mostly he just likes having a job to do. Something that makes him feel useful. ]
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[The truth of the matter is, if she doesn't hold herself to some kind of standard, what will she become? Whatever that creature is, she never wants to meet it.]
I'm thinking if we don't look, we ain't finding shit. People come back here. We find him dead, we still help him.
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Don't think he meant to. If that means somethin' to you.
[ It's not his business to tell her anything more than that, about how Gabe had lingered with him, sat beside him. Hadn't finished him off. Even dying of shock, Daryl could still smell the regret. ]
Fair enough. You got a lead? Somewhere to start?
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[A crime is a crime. All you can do is repent.]
Re-... Figure we can start at the city gates. He was at the library when he got, y'know... got.
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[ He'd practically had to twist the guy's arm to get anything out of him when they'd woken up together in the dark. Good to know it doesn't always take that much to get a confession out of him. ]
You got anythin' that smells like him?
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[Wait.]
...Are you a dog person too?
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[ To be honest, she'll probably still be more a hindrance than a help. But the practice will be good. But he won't pitch it that way. ]
I'm hearin' you won't have a problem with that.
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[She was thinking of Khoriya, who, she reminds herself, is a wolf. Which, uh, matters. Apparently.]
Anyway, yeah, I can get some of Wesley's stuff. He was a librarian, he probably made out with the Encyclopedia Britannica or something.
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[ Oh. He shakes his head like he can knock all the thoughts that follow out of it. ]
Nevermind. Forget it. Pick whatever's beside his bed or grab a shirt you know is his.
post rez.
[ a little needling, prod of contact. ]
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Sorta embarrassed bout what I asked of you.
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How are you?
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I've a new place now, and some of Nikita's liquor. You're invited to it.
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More than good.
[ And indulging away from Jesse sounds even better. ]
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Unless you'd prefer something privater than that?
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Come when you please. We can pull the ladder up after us and drink in peace.
may 17 . voice
[ Woof. Good. Great intro. ]
I just need a favor. A big favor. Possibly a huge favor.
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Can I borrow your hunting shack?
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[ Doesn't sound that huge to him, so there's a catch. ]
What've you done?
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I need it to be somewhere with someone attached that I know--that I know would help me. [ "Know" is a strong assertion. Even as he says it, his unsurety of whether Daryl will help him is obvious. ]
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But hearing Quentin say his name, revealing everything while saying so little and clearly asking for no commentary on it, blooms so much disappointment in Daryl he almost chokes on it. He lets the kid talk just so he can collect himself. ]
You're fightin' a lost cause. [ He knows Quentin thinks he thinks this. He knows Quentin knows. He still fucking says it. ] He's rabid. Fuck with him enough and you're gettin' bit again.
[ Worst part is, he thinks Quentin must know that too. Maybe even wants it. ]
You got stones to ask me this.
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I can help. I can-- [ I can fix him, I can fix him, I can--Quentin stops and sucks in a deep breath, thinks fully through this thought before explaining, earnest. ] I think this is the best chance I'll ever get to teach him something. I have to try.Β
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You can't help. [ He hears what Quentin is saying even though he's not saying it. He wants to shake him, slap him. He wants to admit that he hopes the same fucking thing. ] But yeah. Yeah, you can use the spot.
[ And if he's helping Quentin, what sort of idiot does that make him? ]
β in person . may 23
[ At the very least, it makes him an appreciated idiot. Quentin shows his appreciation with an outpouring of gratitude in this moment and with updates over the next few days. How they got in. How it's going. Word that he's keeping the place clean. A few more days. It's getting better, he thinks. The next day, no, no, it's still bad. Quentin's gratitude increases fourfold when he asks Daryl one more favor: an overnight stay while Quentin takes care of something. He'll be back in the morning, promise, just--one night. One night.
[ Quentin does come back in the morning--later than he means to, sweaty from the mid-morning heat and the hike, looking like hell warmed over. He warns Daryl when he's close to the shack, an implicit request to meet him outside, and when he lays eyes on Daryl, a pang of something sharp and familiar lances through his chest. Relief. Nervousness. He's got a progress report in his backpack with three C's. Stayed out too late with Jesse Braun and the living room light is on. He's in trouble, and the one person he doesn't want to know is the same person that he desperately needs help from.
[ Daryl isn't his dad, but Quentin still has a hard time meeting his eyes when they're finally close enough for low conversation. ]
Looks like you made it. Did he?
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The wound the void had left in Daryl's head has been healing for months, had nearly knit closed, and then all in one night it's been torn open again. He is indeed outside to meet Quentin but that's because he's been outside since dawn, splitting wood to keep from going back inside and killing Danny with the axe where he's still lying hogtied and gagged in the middle of the floor where Daryl left him.
His shirt is soaked through with sweat and there's a shallow cut on the side of his neck that wasn't there when Quentin left. He bites the axe deep into the stump he uses for a block and watches him approach, scowling through how torn up the kid looks. How much he feels like he's played this waiting game before.
He hasn't. It's important to remember that. ]
You missed a knife.
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[ He drops his bag next to the wood pile, scrubbing his eyes with both palms. ] I owe you. For all this. I don't know if it's helping, I don't--I just need a couple more days.
(cw: mentions of non/dubcon)
It ain't helpin'.
[ He yanks the axe free, lifts another log into place and brings it down violently to cut it in two. He needs the outlet if he's going to talk about this. ]
He fucked me at knifepoint. [ Another log, another savage swing. ] Before you find out an' cry to me about it again. He made me fuck 'im so I did.
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Chop. ]
Nothin'. For you to get him outta here, if you ain't gonna put him outta his misery.
[ Daryl's out here because he couldn't. He couldn't get the knife away from him until the end, then he hadn't been able to drive it home. Failed, then failed again. ]
It's my fault. I shoulda sat outside with a bow an' been done with it. [ He should have said no to Quentin but even now he doesn't want to say that to him. ]
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Is that what you'd do?
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He's still alive. That's your answer.
[ Maybe it's what he needs. Maybe killing him just brings him back worse. Daryl's starting to think that might be the case, but... ]
I can't. [ It comes out defeated, hoarse. He doesn't know how much Quentin knows, if Danny had ever whispered about it to him. Daryl's hurting too much right now not to spit it out like a chipped tooth. ] He was my kid once, too. In... like when you were mine.
[ But not like how he was with Quentin, in far too many ways. ]
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What did he need? Back there?
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[ More than he had, less than he should have, who fucking knows? It was a cloud of moonshine and anger and lust, the very worst parts of who Daryl used to be, magnified by a thousand by the void. No wonder the kid he'd created there had been twisted too, gone wrong. ]
All versions of him are broken, kid. You don't need me to say it.
shall we call this a π?
[ He turns to pick his bag back up, eyes on the ground, storm cloud trailing behind him as he lurches back towards the cabin. ] I'll take care of it. I'll get him out of here--tomorrow. Tomorrow, we'll be gone.Β
voice.
[A significant, but not exhaustive, pause.]
So, I was a bitch. I wanna ap- I'm sorry. I was real fucked up and I took it out on you. You- [She's pretty sure it's not totally her fault, but today? She is fucking tired of fighting. She tamps down on her battered ego and moves on.] You were just trying to be nice. And your jacket was pretty cool.
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You ain't gotta be sorry. [ He doesn't sound annoyed, which would be enough for someone who knew Daryl well to tell that he's just a little bit amused. ] You just ain't foolin' anyone.
[ Well, maybe someone. But not him. ]
You can have the jacket if you want.
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Look, I said my shit. I'm sorry for screaming at you. You were just trying to help. You wanna get on my shit for being tall, whatever.
I do want the jacket, though.
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[ Like deer that got their antlers tangled. Why would he...? There's a gruff, exasperated sound over the connection. ]
Come get it. [ It wasn't a good enough apology to turn him into a delivery boy. ] Carpenter's workshop. Not the guy with the lumber yard, one that does furniture.
[ He's parked in the outdoor work yard with grease up to his forearms, working on his bike that Billy just had to mess around with. ]
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So it's with this under her arm that Joan approaches the carpenter's shop. She smells something that unlocks almost three decades of sense memory, and wanders toward engine grease and sweat. Joan looks over Daryl and his fucking bike the same way a gambler looks over a winning hand: with the kind of practiced disinterest that begs not to be noticed.
"That yours?"
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Yeah. That freak that comes through, he traded me the parts for it. Runs fine most days.
[ He sets the wrench down, stands and wipes his hands on a rag that absolutely does not clean them. ]
Jacket's upstairs.
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Nah. Learned how to convert 'em to run on ethanol a while back.
[ Back home, that is. Here, it was just remembering the finer details and then bartering for the space to ferment the damn corn. ]
Dunno how the hell House kept his golf cart runnin'.
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[ He lets the flattery roll of him like it wasn't really meant for him, but he manages not to actually hunch his shoulders a little against it. A mechanic though, that's interesting. ]
Thanks. Didn't realize how much I'd miss all this 'til I didn't have it. Saves me miles.
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Yeah. Damn. Got all nostalgic for a second, there.
[But her mood's significantly improved. Almost bouncing on her heels, she goes to get the jug.] I been making tea. Fuckin'- apology drink, I guess.
[She still can't make herself say sorry.]
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Alright. This is closer.
[ To a real apology, that is. He looks at the tea, then at Joan. When he takes it, he's essentially hoping for the best that she can be trusted. That smile she'd just shown him had done a lot of the work for her on that account. ]
You didn't have to. Wasn't like I was waitin' out there for folks to be nice to me. [ He pops the cork and takes a swig, not bothering with a glass. ]
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Yeah, I kinda assume you're not trying to emotionally entrap me. [It's gentle ribbing. It probably comes on too strong. She always does.] Reckon it's the least I can do... considering. Always put my fucking foot in my mouth with you.
[It's not really always, but it feels like it to Joan, someone whose guilt is as overactive as her rage.]
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You weren't that bad. Weren't the only one that that threw up, either.
[ But he isn't going to narc on Nikolai like that, so he leaves it there. ]
You end up gettin' your stuff back?
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[(The aphrodisiacs she doesn't know are in the tea and starting to kick in.)]
Nah. Didn't wanna go back in. Hey, d'you wanna, uh. Go out some time?
[She is trying to be gentle.]
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I don't 'go out'.
[ But for once Daryl hears how that sounds when he says it. Normal people do what she's doing, even though he has no idea why she'd ask him. He feels a hot prickle start up on the back of his neck and he takes another swig of the tea to buy time, to stop his throat from getting any tighter. ]
I'm a lousy date.
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[So she gives him space. Lets him take his time.] I'm not great, either. Shocker, I know. [She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.] But I like you, and you're very fucking nice to look at.
[And very much in her league, and kind, empathetic, knows his way around an engine, and-] I wouldn't mind giving you a good time. However you wanna do it.
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Don't-- [ A wall goes up with the word, ] Talk about it like that. Like it's a favor.
[ A party gift. He's never going to get used to how sex is just offered here, bartered, traded. Sometimes taken. He gives her a long look, trying to read her while simultaneously trying to lock himself away. Become a surly mask instead of an obviously confused old man. ]
I ain't lookin' for cheap shit.
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Yeah, well, I'm pretty cheap.
[That was pure bitterness, entirely unworthy of the kindness Daryl has shown her, unrelentingly if stubbornly applied. She shakes her head.]
Look, it's whatever. Just an offer, you know. [She looks away, frowning.] All I'm saying is-... thanks. For checking on me. That's all.
[She takes a step back, clearly preparing to turn tail and leave.]
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[ It comes out a little defensive. He hadn't meant to hurt her feelings. Hadn't considered that someone who could offer it like it was nothing might still get cut with a 'no'.
He feels the old twist of bitterness that she'd made him have to say it. He sets his jaw a little harder to fight his pitching stomach. ]
You're welcome. [ A statement, final, like it's something she can't argue with. ] I'd do it again, too. Like it or not.
π?
[And maybe that's the problem. She feels too comfortable with that normalcy, and it's causing her to expect more of Daryl than he ever signed up to give. Is she taking advantage of him? It feels likely. She takes advantage of everything in this place. Ruins everything good.]
[Mavis' image flashes through Joan's mind. Self pity. She needs to get over herself. She needs to leave.]
Yeah. I get that. Stay safe, Daryl. And if you find an ethanol car- [She makes the old-fashioned sign for 'phone' with her hand, thumb and pinky extended-] Call me.