Falling Down (Rick Grimes Romance)

Chapter 4

Breath in.... breath out. The sound of my own breath harsh and loud in my own ears. Breath in....breath out. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. Breath in.....breath out.

"Daryl," Closing my eyes I paused momentarily before continuing with my task of prepping Stevens body. "It's nice to see you again."

"Is it," Daryl questioned his tone edgy and accusing. "You haven't even looked at me."

That day when I got in the jeep with Shane Daryl didn't say but a word. He didn't have to. The look on his face said more than words ever could. To Daryl I was betraying him and the group when I left with Shane. What I had done was unforgivable. I had turned my back on them, their love, the family. To Daryl there was never a reason worthy of such a desertion other than death.

I couldn't even begin to contemplate the odds of running into Daryl again if I tried. He was right.... we were never suppose to see each other again. Yet here he was in the flesh. His very presence seemingly defiant against the odds.

The way I saw it I had two options. The first was a cowards way but still an option none the less. I could turn and just walk from the room claiming I had something to do. In all odds I'm guessing from Daryl's mood he would just fallow. The second was to turn and face him. To stand my ground and the choice I had made.

Knowing the close intimate situations made Daryl uncomfortable I had a plan in mind. I was going to rush forward and hug him. That would throw him off his game. I turned taking only two quick steps before I halted.

"Your arm," I said stating the obvious. "Your bleeding."

Glancing down at his blood covered arm Daryl smirked, "Looks like it. Some guy told me to come down here and see you for stitches."

Awkwardly for a moment we just stared at each other before I pointed at the chair. "Take a seat and we will get it cleaned up."

Dropping his crossbow to the ground at his side Daryl took his seat watching me intently. Nervously I grabbed the green basin going to the sink to fill it with warm water. Placing it on the rolling tray beside Daryl with shaking hands I began to wash the blood away. There was so much I wanted to say and not talk about at the same time. So many questions I wanted to ask but didn't want to know the answers to.

So I took the easy way to clear the heavy silence in the room. "How did you get hurt like this?"

"When we got to the jeep we could see they were still alive but trapped. We broke the one window in order to get at them. I cut myself while we were trying to lift them out." Motioning towards my scar on my cheek Daryl asked, "How did you get that scar?"

It took everything I had not to flinch at his words. "Nothing."

I wanted to ask Daryl who he was referring to when he said we but I didn't. Grabbing the tweezers I stayed focused on his cut avoiding looking Daryl in the face. "This might hurt. You have some shards of glass I have to get out before I can stitch."

A simple shrug of his shoulders was the only response I got. Perhaps it was just as well Daryl was the solemn quiet type I tried to convince myself. Talking would only complicate things. Make things more awkward than they already were. I was already drowning I didn't need anyone to hold my head under.

Five stitches later I bandaged Daryl's arm. Still unable to look At the disappointment in Daryl's eyes I handing him some pads and a fresh roll of gauze. "Your going to have to change the wrap every day. If you run out Hershel should have some weave you could use."

For a moment Daryl sat there watching me clean everything up. I wished he would just say something. I prayed he would just leave. With my back turned to him I dumped the bloody water from the basin down the sink. Listening to the distinctive sound of his crossbow as Daryl picked it up hoisting it over his shoulder.