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[blueshit]

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[dadyl]

[ Silence for almost a month.

It had happened fast and one of his last coherent thoughts was that he didn't want to make it any worse on Jesse than it already would be. He didn't want him to hear him go.

But when his mind stitches back together before his body, when the agony is ripping through him and he can't even scream about it, he reaches out. Like a hand groping for Jesse's in the dark, he can't wait to know he's okay. He needs the reassurance in the pitchy abyss, in the space between life and death.

He knows the process. He's done it once before. It's still terrifying. ]

you better not be on a bender

[blueshit]

[ Jesse's on a bender.

Could Daryl really expect otherwise? He'd died. Again. And this time, it had taken him much longer to come back. This time, Jesse hadn't just heard about it secondhand. He'd been on the line with Daryl when it happened, or close enough. Daryl had died, and Jesse had been left alone. For weeks.

There's a long silence before Jesse finally responds. At least he's not passed out in an alley somewhere, right?]

r u back

[dadyl]

not quite

[ Thinking hurts, every word hurts. But it's still better than that endless horrible nothing. ]

glad you made it

[blueshit]

[ Another long pause, worryingly long.

Then finally: ]

come back

[dadyl]

m tryin

slow goin

[ He won't mention the pain. He won't do it. ]

you miss me

[blueshit]

[ Jesse doesn't know about the pain. Daryl hadn't talked about it the last time, either.

All he knows is his own pain, the empty, bewildered despair he's felt ever since Daryl had disappeared. ]

u died

u were just gone

icon >:(

[dadyl]

it happens here

[ But that's not what Jesse needs to hear. Problem is, Daryl has no idea what Jesse needs to hear. ]

never gonna stay gone

<3

[blueshit]

[ If only Jesse could tell him. He doesn't have any idea what words could make this better, either.

So he retreats back to the beginning, to the thing he's been aching for all month. ]

come home

please

[dadyl]

ain't remade yet
takes time

what'd I miss

[ A month. He was gone nearly a month. Anything could have happened. ]

[blueshit]

nothin

[ Whatever might have happened, Jesse had remained not-quite-blissfully unaware of it. He'd spent most of the month drunk, high, or asleep. ]

how long

[dadyl]

[ He asks so little of him. To take care of himself, to stay alive. To feed the dog.

But Daryl needs him now. Every word is formed on the edge of a scream. ]

need you to talk to me

[blueshit]

[ The bare minimum, and yet Jesse had barely been able to manage it. Had failed, in a lot of ways. Only Ginger had kept him from spiraling out completely. Knowing that she was depending on him, that with Daryl gone, she had no one else.

She'd kept him from losing himself, just barely. But even so, Jesse's high as a kite, the apartment a disaster zone strewn with dirty dishes and empty bottles. He takes a drink from the one at his side, blinking at nothing as he tries to concentrate on Daryl's words. ]

i told you

you didnt miss anythign

[dadyl]

[ He can't even do this for him. Can't or won't, Daryl can't see that it matters when he can't grasp onto anything but being left alone. Torture and darkness.

But he's still holding the line, desperate, and it's in his frustration and exhaustion, in his agony of holding back a scream, that he lets a flash of the searing pain he's experiencing slip through to Jesse. It's just a heartbeat, but it's enough to make someone feel like their entire body is on fire. ]

[blueshit]

[ It's just a split second, but it's enough to sober Jesse up instantly. He sits up straight, knocking the bottle over in the process, and the guilt, alarm, fear that blast through the psychic link to Daryl last much longer than a second. ]

Shit.

Fuck.

Daryl? Are you there? Please -

[dadyl]

[ He knows what's happened immediately and he can feel that crash of a response even as he throws all his effort back into holding the door closed. Holding it closed at all cost, Jesse can't know what's really happening to him. Not now. ]

'm here.

[blueshit]

Fuck.

[ This time it's a whisper, a prayer of thanks that Daryl had actually answered. Is still capable of answering. ]

Please - I'm sorry. Please tell me...how do I - help?

[dadyl]

[ Strained, every word hard to control. Talking is so much harder than thinking had been. ]

Told you. Talk to me, babe. Anythin'.

[blueshit]

[ The babe makes his heart skip a beat - butterflies in his stomach, despite everything. He knows he'd missed Daryl, knows losing him had fucked him up good, but he hadn't realized just how much he'd missed him until right then. ]

Okay. Okay, uh, Ginger - Ginger's here. She's even bigger, you wouldn't believe. She...she ate one of your library books, sorry... [ His voice is sheepish, as if it had been him, and not the dog, who'd misbehaved. ] I think she was - y'know, looking for you. Like it smelled like you, and she was - she missed you too.

[dadyl]

[ One of his library books. If he could laugh, he might have. Even the instinct to chuckle at the thought of Jesse trying to wrestle one of Wesley's books out of the dog's mouth makes pain sear through his chest and he's quiet for a while before he can collect himself enough to speak. ]

Big. Means you're feedin' her right.

[ He can't talk about them missing each other. About how much it'd hurt them while he was gone. Not now, maybe not ever. ]

[blueshit]

An' taking her out. Every day.

[ Just that much had been a struggle. But he'd done it. Made sure she had food and water, taken her out for at least a few minutes of exercise. It had kept him from spiraling completely, knowing she needed him, knowing how disappointed Daryl would be if he let her down. Knowing he'd never forgive himself, if anything happened to her. He swallows hard, reaching out to pet her as she pushes her head into his lap. ]

I took care of her, Daryl.

[ When he'd failed in so many ways at taking care of himself. Does Daryl know how big that is? Could he even understand? ]

[dadyl]

[ He'd been worried about asking but he can't hear a lie in what Jesse claims. It worked, he thinks, and manages to keep it to himself. Thank god it worked, that the dog didn't suffer for his gamble. ]

Good. That's good.

[ He's tired again, lapsing into silence for a while as he rides the next wave of pain, stealing his mind like someone might grit their teeth. ]

Place better be clean when I get there.

[blueshit]

[ Clean. Right. Jesse falls silent, his gaze roving guiltily over the pigsty the apartment had become. After Daryl had died, after it had become clear he wasn't coming right back, maintaining the place - or himself - just hadn't seemed all that important. As long as Ginger was okay, what did Jesse himself matter? ]

Uh huh.

[ Sure. He can clean it all up before Daryl gets back, can't he? Whenever that is. His heart aches again with longing at the thought. ]

How long, Daryl?

Please. You gotta - I need you back.

[dadyl]

[ That silence, that avoidant answer. Yeah, that's what he thought. ]

You tell me. [ He can't tell him that all he sees is black. Nothing but that looming mask. That all he feels is screaming. ] We all come back the same time.

[blueshit]

[ That settles him a little. It's not the answer he wants - it's not today, I'm on my way back right now - but at least it's a solid answer. Something to count down to. ]

Soon, then.

[ Does Daryl even know? Has he just woken up, or has he been semi-aware and waiting this whole time? Jesse shivers, and pulls Ginger closer. ]

Just a few more days.

[dadyl]

[ A few more days. A few more days of this, of floating in agony and shadow, treading water on pain.

Just a few more days. All because of Fifty and that goddamn tree. ]

That new guy. Calls himself 'Fifty'. [ He's not sure if Jesse knows him. Better to be safe than sorry. ] Stay away from him.