Red ~ TWD (Daryl Dixon)

Day of Days

When I came to my body ached like I'd been hit by a car, and let me tell you, I'd know. I also knew from firsthand experience it would take days for the soreness to completely pass. I moaned, bracing my hands on what I was pretty sure was the floor a van, trying to push myself up without puking. My head felt too small, a feeling exacerbated by the pounding headache residing behind my eyes.

"Red."

I looked up slowly, relief so tangible I could feel it flooding my system. Daryl was propped up against the side of the van, sweaty and pale, a bullet wound visible in his shoulder. I crawled to him, Deadpool, Glenn and Apocalypse Barbie doing their best to clear a path in the tight space.

I pushed the sweaty hair out of his eyes, gently holding his face in my hands. He tried to smile, but it was more of a wince than anything. He looked terrible, and that was saying something because Daryl always, and I do mean always, looked good.

Pushing the ratty blanket off his shoulder I probed the gunshot wound. He groaned, eyes slamming shut, and I bit my lip to keep from crying. The wound was larger in the front than the back, meaning the Two-Face shot him from behind. Blood was still oozing from the hole at a steady rate, and I swallowed down a mouthful of panic.

"How long was I out?"

"Almost an hour," Deadpool answered solemnly.

"We need to stop the bleeding."

I rooted around the small van, looking for anything we could use. Glenn offered me his sweater, and reached to my boot looking for the knives hidden there, but came up empty.

"He took them before they put you in the van."

My eyes flicked to Deadpool who couldn't hold my thunderous scowl. He remembered, despite everything that happened that day the asshole remembered. I sighed, pulling on the fabric until it tore while grumbling under my breath. Once I had enough strips I handed two large swatches to Deadpool and Glenn.

"Press as hard as you can," I instructed, tears welling in my eyes. I bent down, eye level with the man I loved more than my own life. "This is gonna hurt."

"Do what ya gotta."

When he offered me a shaky smile my heart literally broke. I leaned forward, brushing my lips against his quickly before helping him lean forward, tearing his shirt away so we had access to the wound. When I nodded the two of them pressed on the wound and I started wrapping the binding. It was probably the most bootleg field dressing I'd ever done, but it was better than nothing. If we didn't get the bleeding under control then...no, I refused to go down that path.

Once the bindings were secure I tied a loose knot over the exit wound, pausing, "Ready?"

He nodded once, and I closed my eyes, pulling the dressing tight. He grunted, leaning forward, hands curled tight around the blanket. A tear sprang loose, trailing down my cheek as I quickly finished. When I was done I put the blanket back on his shoulder, easing him back against the van.

"What do we do?" Apocalypse Barbie asked.

I settled next to Daryl, my arm around him. His head lolled to the side before finally resting on my shoulder, his breathing labored. I glanced around the van, trying to pull myself together. The truth was there wasn't much we could do. Not with Daryl hurt, and us weaponless. Jumping from the van at this speed would risk serious injury. Given Daryl's current state it simply wasn't an option.

"We sit tight for now," I answered.

I had no idea how long we'd been driving, and keeping track of all the twists and turns was useless. I'd been unconscious for too long for it to make much of a difference now anyway.