Blood Bourbon

A deeper kind of pain

Daryl knew that once the manic energy that had been driving him through most of the day wore off, he was going to crash, and crash hard. But he had woken up with a start, realizing that there had been so many times that he should have died, not to mention the fact that he owed Theresa and all the others, so much more than what he was doing with the life that he had been allowed to have.

And it was easier to take action for himself than to seethe with the anger he felt building towards whatever this company was. He had half wanted them to approach him when he went back into the city that morning. Had craved a fight to vent his emotions, though logically he knew it was better that he didn't get his wish. Daryl had no misconceptions of who would win between him and one of his brother's team members, let alone a highly trained, genetically modified super soldier that his brother seemed to think those goons were.

But still...

Ryker's presence calmed him a fair deal, enough that he was able to take several deep breaths and allow his mind to relax a little bit. He had seen the refusal in Ryker's face, the man didn't want him looking through the past like that and he had been preparing an argument when Ryker had agreed.

On the stipulation that Daryl shower first. Seeing himself in his bathroom mirror, covered in paint and glue and ink made him grin in understanding. And by the time he was walking back out of the bathroom, wearing a pair of sweat pants, Ryker had cleaned up the apartment to a moderate level of chaos. Papers were stacked on a chair, the model was up on the kitchen table drying, and the easels were moved off to the side, and Ryker was sitting on the couch, typing on his computer.

"C'mere." Ryker glanced up at him, before shifting backwards a bit on the couch, and it took a moment for Daryl to realize exactly what the man wanted.

He padded across the floor and sat on the couch between Ryker's legs, leaning back into the man's chest as he felt legs wrap around his waist and a chin resting on his shoulder. Ryker's arms went around him and pulled the computer up onto Daryl's lap, as he felt Ryker kiss his jaw softly.

"If it gets too much, Cowboy, we can take a break." Ryker's voice vibrated from his chest into Daryl's back, soothing him a bit more.

With a nod from him, they started.

There were as many missing supernaturals as there were missing humans, Daryl was sure, but he was struck by how easy it was for him to start picking out faces he recognized even after the years that had gone by.

He moved slowly, memorizing names and pictures as best he could before Ryker would flag the profile and then move on to the next one. His heart ached more with every profile he saw and by the time they were done, he felt hollow and numb to the world. He had lost track of all the people he had seen during his time in the hospital, but the sheer number of those that he recognized was overwhelming.

It was dark by the time they had made it through the pages and pages of faces, and he found himself laying down on the couch, turning into Ryker, who was holding him and rubbing his back gently, murmuring soft enough that Daryl couldn't make out the words.

It took several long moments before he realized he didn't understand what was being said. "What language is that?"

"Russian." Ryker offered absently, his fingers toying with the hair at the back of Daryl's neck. "I can't seem to forget it, no matter how hard I try. I... the only time I was ever soothed... was in Russian, I just fall back on it... I'm sorry."

"No. Don't be sorry." Daryl shook his head and rubbed Ryker's chest idly with one hand, his other hand toying absently at the man's side. "It is soothing... I just... had never heard it before."