It's an uneasy admission, but probably not that surprising. Daryl got her husband killed; he figures she can't be eager to talk about that. He can't look at her without seeing it all again; her fevered eyes set in a bloodless face, the sound of the bat. Maybe someday he'll man up and apologize proper, but he's not there yet. Neither of them are, probably.
"Looks... healthy." That's the best he can say. Important, too, when it was such a close call.
Aaron nods. He hadn't expected Daryl to say much else. Honestly, this may have been an indirect way of asking about Daryl. Doing so directly is something he knows better than to try.
"I'm glad to hear it," he says. "I'm glad to hear both of you are doing better."
It feels like he ought to say something to that, but somehow he can't come up with anything to say. Is he doing better? Better than what?
Somewhere, deep down, there's an old impulse to lash out with something cruel, the way he always used to. He can't decide whether he's resisting it because he's become a better man, or if it's the lingering effects of captivity-- the desire to stay out of sight, keep out of trouble.
Sometimes Daryl needs his silence. Aaron can live without constant conversation. They make it to the kitchen and unload the box of produce without much difficulty. There are plenty of people running back and forth, lots to do. It's easy to get lost in the shuffle.
Walking back, he turns to Daryl and asks a question that's been sitting at the back of his mind a while. "I guess you'll be staying here? It's safest." Still, he can't hide the genuine feeling of regret that gets tangled in his voice.
It was an inevitable question, he guesses. What takes him by surprise is the tone, and the fact that he kind of hates his own answer. Being gone, being here, it makes Alexandria feel more like home than being there ever did. Maybe home's just the last thing you lost.
"Safer," he agrees, because it's not safe, nothing is. Until the Saviors are dealt with, though, he can't go back.
"I'll keep your secret," he says, walking back through Hilltop with Daryl. He can't argue with his logic, even though he'd like nothing better than to see Daryl safe and home. He'd be home in Alexandria, but he wouldn't be safe.
"I... might tell Eric, though. He's been worried sick about you."
That hits him harder than he'd have expected, too. He glances away, just for a moment. There are things he wants to ask-- people he needs to ask after-- but he can't, now.
"If you're sure you can trust him," he jokes instead.
Aaron catches the joke with a weak little grin. "He can keep a secret from everyone but me," Aaron says, his eyes crinkling just slightly around the edges. "So I might as well return the favor."
All he can do is huff a laugh and nod. Anything else would be too much, too telling. It's enough to think-- maybe-- that in the end he's got a home to go back to. Hasn't felt that way in a long while. Not since the prison, maybe; and maybe after that it's been on him, refusing to settle in.
But he's been trying. He did always mean that, and maybe-- Fuck maybes. They'll get out of this, get rid of Negan somehow, and they'll rebuild.
"I'll be around." It's dangerous to promise anything, now, even anything so simple. That's why he's doing it.
He should probably go, Aaron realizes. Daryl has never been the most communicative type, and Aaron can't imagine that's changed after what he's been through. Daryl should have his privacy if he wants it.
There's only one thing left to say. He doesn't imagine Daryl will appreciate it, not really, but Aaron does it all the same. It's the act that matters, not the outcome.
He reaches out, and lightly, lightly puts his hand on Daryl's shoulder. "So will I."
Truth is, he does appreciate it. Sort of. It's the kind of thing he can't help but react to by griping or squirming under the attention, at worst, and just not quite acknowledging it at best. Still-- and this is the worst of it, the part he definitely can't explain, doesn't want anyone to guess at-- it makes all the difference in the world every goddamn time someone treats him like a human. Like himself.
He nods, because that's all he's reliably sure he can manage in response, and ducks away from the touch to stalk off, back to doing... well, whatever he can, to keep busy.
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what_wings_dare2014-02-14 08:31 pm
no subject
It's an uneasy admission, but probably not that surprising. Daryl got her husband killed; he figures she can't be eager to talk about that. He can't look at her without seeing it all again; her fevered eyes set in a bloodless face, the sound of the bat. Maybe someday he'll man up and apologize proper, but he's not there yet. Neither of them are, probably.
"Looks... healthy." That's the best he can say. Important, too, when it was such a close call.
no subject
"I'm glad to hear it," he says. "I'm glad to hear both of you are doing better."
no subject
Somewhere, deep down, there's an old impulse to lash out with something cruel, the way he always used to. He can't decide whether he's resisting it because he's become a better man, or if it's the lingering effects of captivity-- the desire to stay out of sight, keep out of trouble.
"Yeah," is all he can manage.
no subject
Walking back, he turns to Daryl and asks a question that's been sitting at the back of his mind a while. "I guess you'll be staying here? It's safest." Still, he can't hide the genuine feeling of regret that gets tangled in his voice.
no subject
"Safer," he agrees, because it's not safe, nothing is. Until the Saviors are dealt with, though, he can't go back.
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"I... might tell Eric, though. He's been worried sick about you."
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"If you're sure you can trust him," he jokes instead.
no subject
no subject
But he's been trying. He did always mean that, and maybe-- Fuck maybes. They'll get out of this, get rid of Negan somehow, and they'll rebuild.
"I'll be around." It's dangerous to promise anything, now, even anything so simple. That's why he's doing it.
no subject
There's only one thing left to say. He doesn't imagine Daryl will appreciate it, not really, but Aaron does it all the same. It's the act that matters, not the outcome.
He reaches out, and lightly, lightly puts his hand on Daryl's shoulder. "So will I."
no subject
He nods, because that's all he's reliably sure he can manage in response, and ducks away from the touch to stalk off, back to doing... well, whatever he can, to keep busy.