[ Jesus nods, taking the bag off and handing it off to Daryl. But he also stands there a moment and suddenly he's gripping Daryl's arm hard like a vise - not enough to hurt, but his fingertips press into Daryl's bicep and he looks at him, eyes steel. ]
I'm coming back. But if, if I don't come back in the time I said I would, you leave. You get out of here. I'll get back. Don't come after me.
[ He lingers like that a moment purposeful and sharp before he lets go. Then he's gone, darting off through the trees. With any luck his warning won't have to mean anything. ]
[Prick was gone before Daryl could protest it. Like hell he was leaving the fucker behind. If Jesus wasn't there when he said he would be, Daryl was going to hide the bike and go hunting. Ninja was good at hiding, but to a trained tracker, he left a trail easy enough to follow.
Daryl guided the bike through the trees for about three minutes and then cut the engine. The backpack got secured on his shoulders and he had to take a few deep breaths to calm his nerves as he counted off the seconds. He didn't really need to manually count them. Life on the road between the farm and the prison had pretty much trained everyone on an internal clock without needing to look at a watch. But it gave him something to do that wasn't worry.
Three minutes became five. Five became ten. Then he started walking the bike out toward the street, keeping his ears open for any odd sounds. Like another engine or a couple people trampling through the woods to look for him.]
[ Jesus knows Daryl won't take to the order - because that's what it is, an order - well, but it is what it is. He reaches the road again with about a minute to spare before he needs to be, practically invisible in the shadowed woods. He's alert and attentive and when the car passes by he
slinks back further out of sight instinctively. He recognizes the people in the car - two men and a woman. All of them have been to Hilltop at least once. Saviors--they're driving slow enough he holds his breath like they can hear it, heartbeat pounding in his ears. Then the car stops. He's invisible from the road, he knows he is, but his blood runs cold anyway. They're far enough away from him that when the woman gets out and looks at the edge of the road where it peters off into dirt he realizes that it's the tracks.
It's the fucking trail the bike left in their retreat.
Right. Okay. Well, they need to bail. So yeah, there might be some trampling. Jesus is quicker and quieter and knows where to go and now that Daryl is walking the bike it's less likely to leave discernible traces. He doesn't stop moving until he can see Daryl, see the bike. Fourteen minutes and forty-nine seconds. ]
Daryl.
[ It's a barely audible hiss and it's not clear where he is until he just is. Visible, whole, but worried and tight. ]
Daryl refrains from cursing aloud, but only to keep as much silence around them as he could. He doesn't stop walking the bike, either. But he knows they need to get back to the road so they could get out of there.]
Help me push.
[It was an order and Daryl jerked his head to the other side of the bike as he shrugged off the backpack. If he was going to drive, Jesus had to be the one wearing it. And as much as it was annoying passing it back and forth, he wasn't about to let someone else drive his bike if he didn't have to.]
We get to the road, we push the bike down the next hill, let it coast so there's no noise, and hope there's a turn off we can take to throw 'em off.
[ He doesn't speak. He just nods tersely, getting on the other side of the bike to push while simultaneously taking the backpack with his other arm and putting it on. Then going back to the work of pushing. He doesn't relax as they get further away; not being able to hear or sense movement in the trees is just making him more alert and anxious. When he finally speaks it's quiet still. ]
Three of them. If we can get them to separate I can pick them off.
[ Like hunting pack animals. Jesus the peacemaker, Jesus the one who would rather be invisible than kill, who only went in to the outpost to save other people--
--save other people.
So he's talking so matter-of-fact about killing people because he's protecting someone other than himself. Three guesses who, first two don't count. ]
It'd be easy. They know a bike's out here now. Can't risk it.
[Once upon a time, Daryl would have cautioned against it. Thrown out how if they didn't show back up when they were supposed to, people would come looking. Which could draw more attention their way. But after the week or more he'd had in Sanctuary - he never was sure exactly how long it'd been even if it hadn't been that long in the scheme of things - killing a Savior any chance he got was always an option he'd risk. Especially when someone else was advocating it.
There was a coldness in his eyes as Jesus said the words Daryl wanted to hear. Like a measure of his compassion had curled up and died along the way and all he had to replace it was a sick need to wash his knife in the blood of anyone that he saw as a threat. Or his fists. He wouldn't mind painting his knuckles red, neither.]
Then we get the bike to the road, push it over to the other side where it's hidden from view, and come back to take 'em down. You head back this way, and I'll head for the car to take 'em from that side.
[ No, Jesus sees that in him. As much as he hates every one of them he doesn't want to encourage the coldness that's taken hold of Daryl to grow in him, to coil around his heart like choking vines: no, he makes a firm decision right then. ]
No.
[ It's abrupt and sharp and obvious in that he has no intention of hearing an argument. ]
No, you're going to stay with the bike. If I can't take them all down cleanly, they're not going to see you. [ They've very nearly reached the road and he hasn't stopped moving, talking as they go. He's not looking at him any more. ]
I'm going to give you my mask and coat and you're going to watch and listen. I need you as a trump card just in case, not out where we're too far separated if it goes bad.
[ He does pause finally at the edge of the asphalt to make sure they won't be seen. ]
[Daryl hissed the words out, anger flaring through him followed by pain and an edge of fear. The kind that made his body shake with a pent up need to get it out. The same kind of need that had driven him, uncontrolled, to bash Fat Joey's head in. The lack of control that made him feel like a caged animal all over again.]
[ Before he pushes the bike any further he turns sharply, both hands grasping at Daryl's face. It's a move that should probably be rough or angry or something--anything other than what it is, which is more like the cradling reserved for a loved one. ]
I need you to. Please. I know it's asking a lot but let me do this.
[ His stance is tense and almost hunched - he's not afraid of Daryl, but of what might happen to him if something happens. ]
[The hands on his face catch him off guard. There was a lot of Jesus' touching that Daryl let him get away with. Was used to. Didn't mind, really. But this was sudden and intrusive and it made him freeze up like a deer in headlights despite how soft and gentle it was. It set his heart beating double time and his breathing hitch before increasing like he was about to have a panic attack.
It also snapped him out of the growing haze of red, leaving a horrified pool of anxiety to churn his insides like he only just realized what he'd been thinking. What he'd been wanting to do. What kind of violence he'd been wanting to drown himself in.
Merle would have been so proud.
His eyes clamp shut, and he presses his lips together. Both tight, forcing him to breathe through his nose. He's not pulling away from Jesus, but he still needs the moment to calm the shudders that run through his body and make staying on his feet harder.
When he opens his eyes and finally pulls his head away, he does it slowly. Just lifting his chin and shaking it form one side to the other as he started to nod.]
You got ten minutes. Then I'm comin' after you.
[He starts pushing the bike again, his tone as firm as Paul's. Just needed to get it to the other side of the road and they could do this.]
[ He'd known it was a gamble and the initial reaction is one that Jesus had expected but he rides the moment out relentlessly, waiting for Daryl to come back to Earth. A part of him is desperate to show Daryl how much he really does care but he doesn't know how other than this. Holding onto him and waiting patiently. He can hear his own heart beating in his ears and feels like he'll be hearing the crunch of leaves every second.
(A different part wants to kiss him as proof. He hates himself a little bit for thinking of it now.)
He nods when Daryl speaks, going back to pushing the bike. ]
Ten minutes are plenty.
[ The trip across the road is fast enough, as is getting to a place where it's hidden from sight. Jesus takes off his coat and drapes it over the handlebars of the bike before handing over the mask he'd normally use to cover his face. Then he takes a second to shove his hair up under his hat entirely, taking a deep breath.
He only pauses a second, looking at Daryl with something indescribable crossing his face. Finally he rocks forward on his feet and barely, just barely, bumps their foreheads together. It's more a brush than anything and he's rocking back just after. ]
Thank you.
[ Then he's darting off again, fully intent on finishing before Daryl decides to follow him. ]
[Daryl does jerk back after the headbump, but it's a delayed reaction that happens after Jesus has disappeared from sight. Left him blinking and mentally blank because it was almost like he'd been kissed but just... not. Usually when Jesus thanked him and got touchy-feely, it was maybe a squeeze to his bicept. A hand resting lightly on his shoulder. A couple pats on his forearm. Not... not getting so close another inch would have had them sharing the same breath.
It was disorientating, to put it mildy.
And then the thought crossed Daryl's mind that it might have been why the prick did it. To make sure he didn't decide to 'forget' how long 10 minutes was and go after him early. Which was still rude as all get out, but made more sense than anything else that came to mind.]
Little shit...
[He muttered the words as he pulled the bandana up around his head. Even if he still had another seven before he could go after Jesus, he was going to be ready to do it.]
[ Oh my god this tag is so long I'm sorry I JUST DIDN'T WANT TO MAKE YOU BE LIKE "HE SAT AROUND WAITING IN ANNOYANCE AND WORRY" FOR FOUR TAGS.......... ]
[ In reality he's using it as a kind of grounding affectionate gesture. He's confident in himself as he always is but that doesn't mean it's well placed. He could very well die, which could get Daryl killed, which are both the opposite of what he wants. So he lets the touch keep him pressed down to Earth and focused. That it keeps Daryl from jumping the gun is a handy bonus.
Jesus moves silently across the road and back into the trees. He was never a tracker before the apocalypse but he's sure as hell learned some things and it's not like these folks are trying to be quiet anyway. He has a lot of cover like this. The first one he comes upon is one of the men trampling over something that may or may not be a path, but he's alone. Jesus holds his breath just long enough for him to have a clear path. In a single movement he's up against the man's back, one arm locking him in place while the other draws one of his knives across his throat - it's bloody and he struggles but it's quick and it's quiet. He doesn't think as it happens, just waits until the quiet gurgles and shudders stop before lowering the body to the ground and jamming the knife through the temple too for good measure. Just like putting a walker down. That's all it is.
The other two, man and woman, are searching together. They're talking though, which means it's even easier for him to sneak up. Harder to get one of them alone, though. They're relatively close to the road and he tries to separate them but time is running short. As a last ditch effort he uses the old standby of tossing a rock in a helpful direction so it crashed through a bush. Cartoon shit. It works though, because the only man left goes to investigate while the woman stays behind. He kills her the same way too, but she manages to get out a yell first that calls for her partner and he has to move faster, jams the knife roughly in the put-down blow and tries to dart off but--
the pistol shot rings out and his body jerks forward slightly but it's only caught his shoulder - through and through and not even that bad. It's only through flesh so he'll be fine. But he knows the shot will alert Daryl who will come after him and probably think he's dead or something. Jesus takes off before this guy can shoot him again and leads him on a wild goose chase around the edge of the woods but soon enough they loop back onto the road and the prick's aiming for him again but he does a feinting move that lets him whip back and slam into him from the side, knocking the handgun away and out of reach as they both drop to the asphalt.
Daryl's probably already barreling their way even as they're grappling on the ground, he's sure. He's trying to go for his knife to finish the job when he feels a searing pain: there's a thumb jamming into the wound in his shoulder and he lets out an agonized sound from it, entire arm jerking in a pain response. Okay. Okay. Breathe. He has his knife and then he doesn't have his knife but the gun is there. Jesus hates guns but he gets his hand on it first and it's not like he has time to think so he just points and shoots. It's point blank - he's not going to have to put this guy down for sure, but it's all he can do to roll the body off of him so he can lay on the bloody ground and stare up at the sky. Without any immediate danger he's flopped boneless, one hand still clutching the gun while the other covers his face with a hand. Clearly alive at least, from the fact he eventually drops the damn thing and covers his face with the other hand too.
[The shout followed almost immediately by the gunshot had Daryl moving out of his hiding spot and around to the car on the side he was on. He couldn't see anyone immediately, no action there. He was darting out to hide behind the car and try and get a better look around the side for any sign of Jesus or the assholes shooting at him when the second shot rang out further up the road. He didn't bother hiding at that point, just kept his knife at the ready and rand towards the sound.
He spots Jesus and the other man wresting soon enough but he can't quite get there before the man's brains decorate the road and Paul's chest. When the body slides away, Jesus is moving enough to let him know he's fine - well, fine enough - but Daryl still doesn't know if there's anyone else out there. He can only see one body.
He jogs over and offers a hand. Notably, he is not wearing Jesus' coat. But since he's still in Jesus' shirt he doesn't much look like himself until he pulls the bandana down.]
Where's the others?
[Anything else could be dealt with once he knew if the threat was still ongoing.]
[ Ah, there he is. Yeah, okay, good timing then. All the murdering done. He instinctively moves to grip Daryl's offered hand but picks the wrong arm out of habit, grimacing at the thought of being pulled up by it and stopping with that nonsense immediately before using his other arm to grasp Daryl's hand and brace himself up to a sitting position. Not to his feet, though. ]
Dead. They're dead. [ It's breathed out of him a little hoarse and he somehow manages a smile although it's a little strained. ] Told you ten minutes was plenty. Just had a little delay in the middle.
[ To get shot. It's actually kind of unclear that he was hit though, what with the gore he's splattered in. Probably his reactions to moving tell that story clear enough. ]
[The quick change of hands and how Jesus didn't actually stand told Daryl everything he needed to know. He was on his knees immediately and his hands were at the zipper of that damn vest he wore to pull it down and open it up. He pushed the cloth roughly to the side and then yanked at the collar of the shirt he was wearing under it when he couldn't get a clear look. The bandana came off and he pressed that hard against the wound to try and get as much pressure on it as he could.
Hope Paul had more of those.]
I shoulda come with you. Coulda jumped that asshole 'fore he got the shot off.
I finished with time to spare, what are you complaining about?
[ That kind of levity is really not necessary, Paul. Or maybe it is: he's not genuinely trying to distract from having a wound because he knows it needs tending; he's keeping himself from thinking about the fact he'd just had to kill three living, breathing people. They weren't good people but they were still people. It's just the person in front of him now is more important.
But that's how everyone feels, right? That their own interests are most important. Just how people are.
He's still kind of smiling even as Daryl moves to unzip his vest and work at his shirt and Jesus is about to try and help shrug out of the vest and all but as soon as Daryl presses against the wound he sees stars and has to grip at Daryl's arm with his own good one, exhaling roughly as his head tips forward. ]
Shit, that hurts. [ A grimace , hidden. He pushes forward against Daryl's hand anyway for more pressure as he weathers the pain. ] No, you shouldn't have. It was bound to go bad either way. Let's just take the win.
[ The wound isn't as bad as it could have been: the blood flow is already stopping. ]
[Daryl bit out tersely, leveling a glare at the stupid, cheeky bastard. His touch remained as gentle as it could be, though. Still maintaining pressure, but otherwise feather light.]
You're lucky this grazed ya and didn't go through.
[The line of the wound petered out as it moved toward the bicep from what he could see. Not exactly pretty, but not the kind of thing that would make moving his arm difficult for the next few days. It'd be sore once it scabbed over and that was about it.]
Shit, that guy was a bad shot.
[Daryl was avoiding saying anything about just accepting the win for what it was. He understood the mentality - he had it most of the time - but with Jesus's health, he didn't want to settle for only that.]
[ Which is the understatement of the century. Much, much worse. In any case he still doesn't let go of Daryl's arm, though it relents from death grip to settle on holding tight. He doesn't argue any further about whether it's a good call or bad call, just lifts his head enough to watch what Daryl's doing, take in his profile. He doesn't talk at all for a long time, actually. When he does, it's more subdued. ]
I'm sorry. [ There's a brief pause like he's taking a breath, trying to word something important. ] For making you stay behind. I just had these visions of losing you due to some stupid crap in the woods and I couldn't.
[ It's not joking and it's not confident like he usually is; sort of like how he gets stammer-y around Rick sometimes. (It is not actually like that at all. It's a different kind of stammer-y.) His fingertips press harder into Daryl's arm briefly before he lets go entirely. ] So I figured if I could take them all out, I wouldn't have to maybe lose you.
[ Now he's said it twice: "lose you," like he's family or something else entirely, and while it doesn't have as heavy a meaning as it might have before the apocalypse (you can lose anyone at any time), there's still a little something to it.
Whether "lose you" means dying or letting Daryl lose some of his humanity, Jesus doesn't say. ]
[Daryl chooses to ignore the implications of it meaning anything but dying. He chooses to because it's easier to focus on the loss-as-in-death and not the... the way everything inside him had torn itself up with the need to destroy them all and hurt them and make their physical humanity disappear under his fists or to his gun so they'd all be just as broken in body as Glenn and Abraham had been when they were taken from them. As broken in body as Daryl had nearly been in mind.
He chose the easier thing do deal with. Though it was obvious he was choosing because he went very still and sucked in a breath that he let out shakily while his eyes lost focus for a moment before he came back to the here and now.
He let out a forced scoff while moving to tie off the wound with the bandana instead of just maintaining pressure. He tightened it, but not enough to cut off circulation.]
I ain't about to let no asshole Savior kill me.
[Daryl rocked back on his heels and took in the scene. His hand had fallen to Jesus' knee as he did so and rested comfortably there. Keeping contact between them. More to reassure himself that Jesus was fine than to reassure Jesus. But regardless, he wasn't breaking that touch any time soon.]
Think we can leave 'em like this? Honk the horn a few times to draw the dead in and go?
[ He watches this. He watches it carefully - so carefully - and he knows. He's a good judge and for now, concentrating on live-or-die is enough. Still, pale eyes don't leave Daryl like he's not sure the other man isn't going to simply disappear. Maybe he still will. Like he's proving to himself that he won't, Paul drops his hand until it's on his own leg, barely touching Daryl's hand - the weight on his knee doesn't seem to quite be enough. ]
What, and I decided to let some asshole Savior shoot me? [ Wry.
He's calmer than he was though, breathing easier despite the pain still being there. It's funny: moving from endless calm to tense worry. Then right back to calm again just because Daryl is here, Daryl is touching him, reminding him he's here. Stupid, childish.
He shakes his head and he's not sure if it's in answer or incredulity at himself. ]
We should probably do a full clean-up. If there's any evidence left when they come looking, they've only got a few options for people to blame.
[ Eventually he breathes out slow, that same hand lifting to grip at Daryl's bicep. ] C'mon, I'm gonna stand up.
[He gets up slow enough that Paul can come with him, letting him hold onto his arm to steady himself while helping with the other. Once he was on his feet, Daryl tucked his hand under one of Jesus' elbows and looked around before settling his eyes on the car.]
We can pile 'em inside and then drive it out a few more miles. Should be a river or a shallow gorge somewhere 'round here we can dump the lot in.
[The car just as much as the bodies. It would be safer to simply make out like all three had disappeared and leave no evidence of them having been around at all. Though Daryl didn't actually know the area half as well as Jesus.]
[ Paul stands, still holding onto him - and once he's upright he keeps leaning into Daryl, squinting from the car to the body that's still laying in the road. The way he's resting against him might be a little more than absolutely necessary, but sue him. ]
Yeah, there's one that way. [ He nods off in the direction they'd come from. ] A gorge, that is. A while out past where we got to but not far. We clean up enough here and they won't be any the wiser. [ Then he focuses on the car again, frowning. ] Means we can take anything that's not overtly marked as being theirs. Supplies, all that. They weren't set up for a long trip but they'll still have something.
[ Even if they can't take guns with the Saviors' marks on them they can take bullets, food, water, whatever. It's not ideal but it's better than nothing. ] We should probably move quick, though.
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Give me the bag.
[He held his arm out for it and met Jesus' gaze with a stern, but worried look.
Little shit better come back safe.]
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I'm coming back. But if, if I don't come back in the time I said I would, you leave. You get out of here. I'll get back. Don't come after me.
[ He lingers like that a moment purposeful and sharp before he lets go. Then he's gone, darting off through the trees. With any luck his warning won't have to mean anything. ]
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Daryl guided the bike through the trees for about three minutes and then cut the engine. The backpack got secured on his shoulders and he had to take a few deep breaths to calm his nerves as he counted off the seconds. He didn't really need to manually count them. Life on the road between the farm and the prison had pretty much trained everyone on an internal clock without needing to look at a watch. But it gave him something to do that wasn't worry.
Three minutes became five. Five became ten. Then he started walking the bike out toward the street, keeping his ears open for any odd sounds. Like another engine or a couple people trampling through the woods to look for him.]
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slinks back further out of sight instinctively. He recognizes the people in the car - two men and a woman. All of them have been to Hilltop at least once. Saviors--they're driving slow enough he holds his breath like they can hear it, heartbeat pounding in his ears. Then the car stops. He's invisible from the road, he knows he is, but his blood runs cold anyway. They're far enough away from him that when the woman gets out and looks at the edge of the road where it peters off into dirt he realizes that it's the tracks.
It's the fucking trail the bike left in their retreat.
Right. Okay. Well, they need to bail. So yeah, there might be some trampling. Jesus is quicker and quieter and knows where to go and now that Daryl is walking the bike it's less likely to leave discernible traces. He doesn't stop moving until he can see Daryl, see the bike. Fourteen minutes and forty-nine seconds. ]
Daryl.
[ It's a barely audible hiss and it's not clear where he is until he just is. Visible, whole, but worried and tight. ]
Saviors. Coming this way but slow.
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Daryl refrains from cursing aloud, but only to keep as much silence around them as he could. He doesn't stop walking the bike, either. But he knows they need to get back to the road so they could get out of there.]
Help me push.
[It was an order and Daryl jerked his head to the other side of the bike as he shrugged off the backpack. If he was going to drive, Jesus had to be the one wearing it. And as much as it was annoying passing it back and forth, he wasn't about to let someone else drive his bike if he didn't have to.]
We get to the road, we push the bike down the next hill, let it coast so there's no noise, and hope there's a turn off we can take to throw 'em off.
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Three of them. If we can get them to separate I can pick them off.
[ Like hunting pack animals. Jesus the peacemaker, Jesus the one who would rather be invisible than kill, who only went in to the outpost to save other people--
--save other people.
So he's talking so matter-of-fact about killing people because he's protecting someone other than himself. Three guesses who, first two don't count. ]
It'd be easy. They know a bike's out here now. Can't risk it.
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There was a coldness in his eyes as Jesus said the words Daryl wanted to hear. Like a measure of his compassion had curled up and died along the way and all he had to replace it was a sick need to wash his knife in the blood of anyone that he saw as a threat. Or his fists. He wouldn't mind painting his knuckles red, neither.]
Then we get the bike to the road, push it over to the other side where it's hidden from view, and come back to take 'em down. You head back this way, and I'll head for the car to take 'em from that side.
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No.
[ It's abrupt and sharp and obvious in that he has no intention of hearing an argument. ]
No, you're going to stay with the bike. If I can't take them all down cleanly, they're not going to see you. [ They've very nearly reached the road and he hasn't stopped moving, talking as they go. He's not looking at him any more. ]
I'm going to give you my mask and coat and you're going to watch and listen. I need you as a trump card just in case, not out where we're too far separated if it goes bad.
[ He does pause finally at the edge of the asphalt to make sure they won't be seen. ]
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[Daryl hissed the words out, anger flaring through him followed by pain and an edge of fear. The kind that made his body shake with a pent up need to get it out. The same kind of need that had driven him, uncontrolled, to bash Fat Joey's head in. The lack of control that made him feel like a caged animal all over again.]
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[ Before he pushes the bike any further he turns sharply, both hands grasping at Daryl's face. It's a move that should probably be rough or angry or something--anything other than what it is, which is more like the cradling reserved for a loved one. ]
I need you to. Please. I know it's asking a lot but let me do this.
[ His stance is tense and almost hunched - he's not afraid of Daryl, but of what might happen to him if something happens. ]
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It also snapped him out of the growing haze of red, leaving a horrified pool of anxiety to churn his insides like he only just realized what he'd been thinking. What he'd been wanting to do. What kind of violence he'd been wanting to drown himself in.
Merle would have been so proud.
His eyes clamp shut, and he presses his lips together. Both tight, forcing him to breathe through his nose. He's not pulling away from Jesus, but he still needs the moment to calm the shudders that run through his body and make staying on his feet harder.
When he opens his eyes and finally pulls his head away, he does it slowly. Just lifting his chin and shaking it form one side to the other as he started to nod.]
You got ten minutes. Then I'm comin' after you.
[He starts pushing the bike again, his tone as firm as Paul's. Just needed to get it to the other side of the road and they could do this.]
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(A different part wants to kiss him as proof. He hates himself a little bit for thinking of it now.)
He nods when Daryl speaks, going back to pushing the bike. ]
Ten minutes are plenty.
[ The trip across the road is fast enough, as is getting to a place where it's hidden from sight. Jesus takes off his coat and drapes it over the handlebars of the bike before handing over the mask he'd normally use to cover his face. Then he takes a second to shove his hair up under his hat entirely, taking a deep breath.
He only pauses a second, looking at Daryl with something indescribable crossing his face. Finally he rocks forward on his feet and barely, just barely, bumps their foreheads together. It's more a brush than anything and he's rocking back just after. ]
Thank you.
[ Then he's darting off again, fully intent on finishing before Daryl decides to follow him. ]
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It was disorientating, to put it mildy.
And then the thought crossed Daryl's mind that it might have been why the prick did it. To make sure he didn't decide to 'forget' how long 10 minutes was and go after him early. Which was still rude as all get out, but made more sense than anything else that came to mind.]
Little shit...
[He muttered the words as he pulled the bandana up around his head. Even if he still had another seven before he could go after Jesus, he was going to be ready to do it.]
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[ In reality he's using it as a kind of grounding affectionate gesture. He's confident in himself as he always is but that doesn't mean it's well placed. He could very well die, which could get Daryl killed, which are both the opposite of what he wants. So he lets the touch keep him pressed down to Earth and focused. That it keeps Daryl from jumping the gun is a handy bonus.
Jesus moves silently across the road and back into the trees. He was never a tracker before the apocalypse but he's sure as hell learned some things and it's not like these folks are trying to be quiet anyway. He has a lot of cover like this. The first one he comes upon is one of the men trampling over something that may or may not be a path, but he's alone. Jesus holds his breath just long enough for him to have a clear path. In a single movement he's up against the man's back, one arm locking him in place while the other draws one of his knives across his throat - it's bloody and he struggles but it's quick and it's quiet. He doesn't think as it happens, just waits until the quiet gurgles and shudders stop before lowering the body to the ground and jamming the knife through the temple too for good measure. Just like putting a walker down. That's all it is.
The other two, man and woman, are searching together. They're talking though, which means it's even easier for him to sneak up. Harder to get one of them alone, though. They're relatively close to the road and he tries to separate them but time is running short. As a last ditch effort he uses the old standby of tossing a rock in a helpful direction so it crashed through a bush. Cartoon shit. It works though, because the only man left goes to investigate while the woman stays behind. He kills her the same way too, but she manages to get out a yell first that calls for her partner and he has to move faster, jams the knife roughly in the put-down blow and tries to dart off but--
the pistol shot rings out and his body jerks forward slightly but it's only caught his shoulder - through and through and not even that bad. It's only through flesh so he'll be fine. But he knows the shot will alert Daryl who will come after him and probably think he's dead or something. Jesus takes off before this guy can shoot him again and leads him on a wild goose chase around the edge of the woods but soon enough they loop back onto the road and the prick's aiming for him again but he does a feinting move that lets him whip back and slam into him from the side, knocking the handgun away and out of reach as they both drop to the asphalt.
Daryl's probably already barreling their way even as they're grappling on the ground, he's sure. He's trying to go for his knife to finish the job when he feels a searing pain: there's a thumb jamming into the wound in his shoulder and he lets out an agonized sound from it, entire arm jerking in a pain response. Okay. Okay. Breathe. He has his knife and then he doesn't have his knife but the gun is there. Jesus hates guns but he gets his hand on it first and it's not like he has time to think so he just points and shoots. It's point blank - he's not going to have to put this guy down for sure, but it's all he can do to roll the body off of him so he can lay on the bloody ground and stare up at the sky. Without any immediate danger he's flopped boneless, one hand still clutching the gun while the other covers his face with a hand. Clearly alive at least, from the fact he eventually drops the damn thing and covers his face with the other hand too.
Man, his shoulder really hurts. ]
shhhI love it, moves the plot along
He spots Jesus and the other man wresting soon enough but he can't quite get there before the man's brains decorate the road and Paul's chest. When the body slides away, Jesus is moving enough to let him know he's fine - well, fine enough - but Daryl still doesn't know if there's anyone else out there. He can only see one body.
He jogs over and offers a hand. Notably, he is not wearing Jesus' coat. But since he's still in Jesus' shirt he doesn't much look like himself until he pulls the bandana down.]
Where's the others?
[Anything else could be dealt with once he knew if the threat was still ongoing.]
8')
Dead. They're dead. [ It's breathed out of him a little hoarse and he somehow manages a smile although it's a little strained. ] Told you ten minutes was plenty. Just had a little delay in the middle.
[ To get shot. It's actually kind of unclear that he was hit though, what with the gore he's splattered in. Probably his reactions to moving tell that story clear enough. ]
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[The quick change of hands and how Jesus didn't actually stand told Daryl everything he needed to know. He was on his knees immediately and his hands were at the zipper of that damn vest he wore to pull it down and open it up. He pushed the cloth roughly to the side and then yanked at the collar of the shirt he was wearing under it when he couldn't get a clear look. The bandana came off and he pressed that hard against the wound to try and get as much pressure on it as he could.
Hope Paul had more of those.]
I shoulda come with you. Coulda jumped that asshole 'fore he got the shot off.
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[ That kind of levity is really not necessary, Paul. Or maybe it is: he's not genuinely trying to distract from having a wound because he knows it needs tending; he's keeping himself from thinking about the fact he'd just had to kill three living, breathing people. They weren't good people but they were still people. It's just the person in front of him now is more important.
But that's how everyone feels, right? That their own interests are most important. Just how people are.
He's still kind of smiling even as Daryl moves to unzip his vest and work at his shirt and Jesus is about to try and help shrug out of the vest and all but as soon as Daryl presses against the wound he sees stars and has to grip at Daryl's arm with his own good one, exhaling roughly as his head tips forward. ]
Shit, that hurts. [ A grimace , hidden. He pushes forward against Daryl's hand anyway for more pressure as he weathers the pain. ] No, you shouldn't have. It was bound to go bad either way. Let's just take the win.
[ The wound isn't as bad as it could have been: the blood flow is already stopping. ]
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[Daryl bit out tersely, leveling a glare at the stupid, cheeky bastard. His touch remained as gentle as it could be, though. Still maintaining pressure, but otherwise feather light.]
You're lucky this grazed ya and didn't go through.
[The line of the wound petered out as it moved toward the bicep from what he could see. Not exactly pretty, but not the kind of thing that would make moving his arm difficult for the next few days. It'd be sore once it scabbed over and that was about it.]
Shit, that guy was a bad shot.
[Daryl was avoiding saying anything about just accepting the win for what it was. He understood the mentality - he had it most of the time - but with Jesus's health, he didn't want to settle for only that.]
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[ Which is the understatement of the century. Much, much worse. In any case he still doesn't let go of Daryl's arm, though it relents from death grip to settle on holding tight. He doesn't argue any further about whether it's a good call or bad call, just lifts his head enough to watch what Daryl's doing, take in his profile. He doesn't talk at all for a long time, actually. When he does, it's more subdued. ]
I'm sorry. [ There's a brief pause like he's taking a breath, trying to word something important. ] For making you stay behind. I just had these visions of losing you due to some stupid crap in the woods and I couldn't.
[ It's not joking and it's not confident like he usually is; sort of like how he gets stammer-y around Rick sometimes. (It is not actually like that at all. It's a different kind of stammer-y.) His fingertips press harder into Daryl's arm briefly before he lets go entirely. ] So I figured if I could take them all out, I wouldn't have to maybe lose you.
[ Now he's said it twice: "lose you," like he's family or something else entirely, and while it doesn't have as heavy a meaning as it might have before the apocalypse (you can lose anyone at any time), there's still a little something to it.
Whether "lose you" means dying or letting Daryl lose some of his humanity, Jesus doesn't say. ]
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He chose the easier thing do deal with. Though it was obvious he was choosing because he went very still and sucked in a breath that he let out shakily while his eyes lost focus for a moment before he came back to the here and now.
He let out a forced scoff while moving to tie off the wound with the bandana instead of just maintaining pressure. He tightened it, but not enough to cut off circulation.]
I ain't about to let no asshole Savior kill me.
[Daryl rocked back on his heels and took in the scene. His hand had fallen to Jesus' knee as he did so and rested comfortably there. Keeping contact between them. More to reassure himself that Jesus was fine than to reassure Jesus. But regardless, he wasn't breaking that touch any time soon.]
Think we can leave 'em like this? Honk the horn a few times to draw the dead in and go?
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What, and I decided to let some asshole Savior shoot me? [ Wry.
He's calmer than he was though, breathing easier despite the pain still being there. It's funny: moving from endless calm to tense worry. Then right back to calm again just because Daryl is here, Daryl is touching him, reminding him he's here. Stupid, childish.
He shakes his head and he's not sure if it's in answer or incredulity at himself. ]
We should probably do a full clean-up. If there's any evidence left when they come looking, they've only got a few options for people to blame.
[ Eventually he breathes out slow, that same hand lifting to grip at Daryl's bicep. ] C'mon, I'm gonna stand up.
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We can pile 'em inside and then drive it out a few more miles. Should be a river or a shallow gorge somewhere 'round here we can dump the lot in.
[The car just as much as the bodies. It would be safer to simply make out like all three had disappeared and leave no evidence of them having been around at all. Though Daryl didn't actually know the area half as well as Jesus.]
Or ain't there?
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Yeah, there's one that way. [ He nods off in the direction they'd come from. ] A gorge, that is. A while out past where we got to but not far. We clean up enough here and they won't be any the wiser. [ Then he focuses on the car again, frowning. ] Means we can take anything that's not overtly marked as being theirs. Supplies, all that. They weren't set up for a long trip but they'll still have something.
[ Even if they can't take guns with the Saviors' marks on them they can take bullets, food, water, whatever. It's not ideal but it's better than nothing. ] We should probably move quick, though.
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[This time he put on the 'that's an order' voice. Same as the one Paul had used on him before going off and playing hero and getting himself shot.]
You can play lookout. Just in case.
[And not be in immediate danger if another car did come their way.]
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