Snapshot In Time ➳ twd/spn

Day. 310: Daryl's POV

“Hey.” The stranger called out, drawing the eyes of the group that had swarmed Merle to the swaying brunet. “I got hit. Don’t have much time left before I faint like a damsel, so the question is… who’s gonna catch me?”  The man asked mildly, looking more calm than he ought to be considering that he apparently had a bullet in him.

Then the brunet’s knees buckled and the scuff of boots preceded the blur of color that darted past Daryl, the form of his brother sliding to his knees to catch the brunet before he could hit the ground. Daryl stared at the pair uncomprehendingly for a moment, struggling to process what exactly he was witnessing.

“Thanks Merle, it would've been humiliating if I face-planted in front of your buddies. Not a very good first impression man.” The man chuckled, and Daryl didn’t even realize how much tension the stranger was holding in his impressive frame until it had abruptly drained out of him, the only thing keeping him out of the dirt being Merle’s death grip.

Daryl had a moment of hysteria where he noted that the pair was unknowingly keeping the wound as clean as possible, so as to avoid infection, which was great. Fucking awesome even. It was just weird to witness his douchebag of a brother embracing someone -a man no less- so gently.

“Ya humiliate ya’self plenty every time ya open yer mouth.” Merle grunted, despite the fact that the man in his arms wouldn’t hear it, and Daryl found himself surprised by the fondness he could clearly hear in Merle’s words.

Thankfully, everyone looked just as shocked as Daryl felt, so this odd version of his brother wasn’t some kind of hallucination or some shit.

“Dean?” Merle’s voice was tight and, while Daryl couldn’t see his face, the younger redneck would bet his crossbow that his brother's expression matched that tone. There was no response from the stranger, who was blankly staring off into the middle distance. Daryl's throat closed up uncomfortably when Merle bumped his scruffy cheek against the brunet’s, trying to entice a reaction out of the man that way since his hands were otherwise occupied.

Still nothing.

“Grimes.” Merle barked, any and all warmth that had been in his tone while addressing the stranger suddenly gone, only to be replaced with steel. “I’ll answer fer my actions in whatever way ya want but please help him.” His brother twisted in order to meet Rick’s owlish stare with a steady gaze that contrasted the desperate way that he clung to the brunet. 

Daryl was struck dumb, he could count how many times Merle took responsibility for the shit he pulled on one hand and still have fingers left over. And he certainly didn’t beg. The both of them had long since learned that such a thing was a waste of time because, if someone wanted to hurt them, then they would and no amount of words would stop them.

“Daryl, help Merle get him up so I can take a look at the damage. Michonne, take Glenn and Maggie and go wait for us at the car. Make sure it’s running.” Rick ordered, tossing the car keys to the woman, affording her a chance to prove that she can be trusted after the disappearing act that she had pulled earlier.

Daryl didn't bother to watch her leave, crouching at Merle’s side to help him maneuver the limp form of the brunet onto his back so that Rick could get to the origin of the blood. The stranger twitched when Rick removed the bundled up sweatshirt, raising the soaked fabric that stuck to the man’s abdomen to examine the torn skin.

“No exit wound. It’ll be blood loss that kills him first. We need to get him to Hershel as soon as possible to get that bullet out if he’s goin’ to have a chance of survivin’ this.” Rick dropped the shirt back over the hole before reapplying pressure to the injury with the wad of fabric.

“Alright Merle, you gotta let me take your place. Daryl and I will carry him.” Rick leveled Merle’s sharp look with a raised brow, daring him to waste time by arguing. Merle’s eyes dropped to the waxen brunet, his features twisting with something that looked a hell of a lot like fear before he reluctantly relinquished his grip, letting Rick slide behind the stranger so that he could hook his hands under the man’s armpits.

They smoothly lifted the brunet on the count of three before they began making their way through the forest. The minutes passed in a blur of one step after the other until they reached the road where

Michonne was obediently waiting for them, the woman moving to assist in getting the stranger into the backseat once they hit asphalt. She’d also apparently had the foresight to push the seats down so that the brunet had a flat surface to lay on, the extra space provided proving useful when it came to keeping someone close in order to keep pressure on the wound.

Rick and Daryl shared a look that said all that needed to be conveyed before the younger redneck was obediently climbing in after his brother, who had already rounded the vehicle and had clambered in to kneel at the stranger’s side. Michonne wordlessly settled in the passenger seat while Rick got behind the wheel, the car whipping a U-turn before flooring it down the road, everyone in the vehicle equally keen on putting as much distance as possible between themselves and the smoking town of Woodbury.

Merle had his lone hand on the bundle of fabric as he watched the brunet’s face for any signs of life, Daryl forcing himself to avert his eyes as that ugly feeling bubbled up in his chest. He didn’t know why this guy was so important to Merle, but it was painfully obvious that they had some kind of connection.

For a considerable length of time, the only sound penetrating the car was the rumble of the engine and their breathing, the brunet’s noticeably labored.

But then between one blink and the next, the stranger was awake. There had been no warning, just the flutter of eyelashes as his lids lifted to reveal vibrant green eyes that held flecks of sparkling gold and rich brown. The man made a small sound that was equal parts anxious and confused, the noise prompting both Merle and Daryl to unconsciously shift closer. 

The brunet’s gaze struggled to focus on Daryl, seemingly giving up in identifying him in favor of looking down at the knife in Daryl’s hand. The weapon was simply a precaution, just in case the man died on the way there and had to be put down before he could come back as a Walker.

The brunet’s eyes momentarily sharpened, tunneling in on the blade before he lurched into motion like he didn’t have a bullet buried in his insides, twisting away from Daryl with an animalistic abandon that indicated that the action had been more due to instinct than anything intentional. The brunet was practically sprawled across Merle’s lap, one of his hands flying down to the wound with a hiss as the pain from moving around caught up to him.

The elder Dixon frowned down at the tense man before waving Daryl closer, the younger redneck shuffling over to follow Merle’s silent direction, planting his hands onto the brunet’s chest to discourage any more movement on the stranger’s part.

The reaction was instant. 

The brunet jolted like he’d been touched by a livewire, lashing out and knocking Merle away, his brother slamming back into the car door with a curse. Daryl’s hands came up off the brunet’s chest when he leaned back to dodge the sloppy punch thrown his way, the panicking man managing to kick the back of the driver's seat, causing the vehicle to swerve for a terrifying moment before Rick regained control.

Daryl erupted into movement when the brunet made to repeat the attack, roughly shoving the stranger back down before throwing his leg over the man, sitting down on the brunet’s muscular thighs in order to pin him to the blood-stained seats below.

“Get offa, get off me. Merle… where’s Merle?” The brunet snarled, his body quite suddenly locking up as he threw his head back with a pained hiss.

Daryl couldn’t help but frown in sympathy when they hit a pothole, the stranger suddenly starting to look a bit green, but all he did was swallow heavily before his eyes fluttered shut and he was dead weight once again, slumping against a grim-faced Merle.