Silence

8/8

You looked at Daryl as he sat down next to you, reaching out to cup your face, looking at you before leaning to kiss your forehead and then your lips softly, hesitant as if he weren't sure you wanted it, and so you wrapped your arms around him, kissing him, not caring about the sting in your wound. When he pulled back, he held his forehead to yours for a while until he moved back, looking at you with worry. You knew he wanted to ask what had happened, but you also knew he wouldn't pressure you talk. You cupped his face, stroking his cheekbones with your thumbs. He looked so worn out and stressed...

"Your brother?" You signed, realizing that you should come up with a sign for Merle, and wincing again at your wrist, and you could see Daryl letting out a sigh.

"Locked," he signed before taking the notebook to write down. "They don't trust him. Don't want him here. I understand. But he's my brother." Daryl shrugged as you read, looking like he didn't know what to do and so tired... You reached to stroke his hair, leaning to kiss his cheek.

"It'll be okay," you signed to him as best as you could, even though you weren't sure how you all were going to fix this governor mess and Merle's situation. Daryl gave you a tiny half smile, but he still looked sad.

"You okay?" He signed and you nodded. He reached out to hold your good hand, stroking your knuckles, glancing at you from time to time. You took a deep breath and decided that if you were going to talk about it with someone besides Maggie, then it was Daryl, and so you reached for the notebook.

"The Governor wanted to know things about us and so he sent a man to ask me questions, hit me when I didn't answer." You struggled to write, first trying not to move your injured wrist much, then with your other hand, slow and clumsily, and hoping that Daryl would understand your bad handwriting. You waited for him to read it, taking a rest, before you kept writing. You could see his hand twitching but he let you keep going before doing anything.

"Then the Governor came and he pushed me onto the table, cut my shirt off, but he left when I did nothing. Then the other men with the walker, when you saved me." You felt like crying again, the memories replaying in your head as you wrote it all, painfully slow, as you were not used to writing with that hand.

Daryl was looking at the notebook, not saying anything, but his hands were shaking as he closed them into fists. He looked at you, then at the notebook, and then he got up, pacing around the room, still not saying anything to you. "Don't do anything stupid." You wrote, just in case, holding it in front of Daryl.

You could see him shaking, but he nodded, sitting down next to you again, and you reached out to stroke his hair away from his face with your good hand. Daryl held your hand, pressing it to his chest before kissing your knuckles. "I'm sorry," he signed to you.

"It's okay," you signed and Daryl shook his head, pacing around again, so you reached for him when he walked closer, grabbing his shirt and tugging at him. "Not your fault." You signed.

Daryl just shook his head again, but he stopped pacing and sat down next to you, reaching out for your notebook. "Thought you were with the others, safe. I'm sorry." You sighed, you really wished Daryl wouldn't blame himself about this. You were too tired to argue, though, so you just shook your head and took the notebook and pen from his hand, reaching to leave it on the small nightstand table, and kissing Daryl's cheek on the way.

"Tired," you signed, pushing at Daryl to lie down on the bed. He let you do and you shrugged off his vest, placing it carefully at the end of the bed, before removing his boots and socks. Then you snuggled next to him, tugging at the sheets to cover you both.

You rested your head on his chest and Daryl wrapped an arm around you and began to stroke your hair. Slowly, you let yourself relax, feeling his heartbeat and his chest rising and falling.