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The sound of ticking was what he didn't understand. It emanated from the walls, from himself, from the others. More than anything, it came from Rick.
Tick tick tick.
Time was running out.
In slow motion Daryl ran towards the walls of Alexandria. Already screaming for the gates to be opened. Now! When he was still feet away.
In his arms, limp and heavy Rick lay, mumbling incoherently about Carl, Judith, Shane, Lori. Daryl knew his face was awash with frustrated and angry tears, but he knew no one was paying that any mind. They were firing questions at him, but he didn't know where to start, couldn't really remember the facts anymore.
Tick tick tick. That was what over rode everything else. The blur of motion as Rick was lifted from his arms, the cacophony of shouts, the infirmary around him, a mob of people strapping Rick down.
Tick tick tick.
He'd done his best. That was the worst thing. His best was nowhere damn near good enough. The run was stupid and dangerous and they both knew it and now?
Tick, tick, tick.
He stepped outside, the ticking quieted a touch. He lit up a cigarette, breathed in slowly, exhaled a puff of blue grey smoke.
He rubbed, frustrated, at his wet eyes.
Tick.
The door of the infirmary creaked a little as it opened behind him.
The excited babble of those attending to Rick had quieted.
To Daryl's utter heartbreak, so had the ticking clock.