Author's note: Hey, know it's been a long time, I hope to be updating my most popular stories soon so here you go on Blind, a longer chapter than the others so I hope you enjoy and please review.

Chapter 4

The week went by quickly, as did the next, but each day seemed so long that you would think you had all the time in the world. Rick spent most of his time helping Daryl, Changing bandages, helping him learn the room through touch. After a week in bed Daryl was able to walk around outside as well, holding on to Rick's arm for support when needed. He was adjusting to being blind shockingly well, learning how to find things just by how sound echoed off objects. He would occasionally practice by whistling, listening, and then throwing rocks at the object. He never seemed to miss Glen as he passed, even when he was running, which he started doing once he realized Daryl was using him for target practice. He was also able to aim from long distance. Rick had made dulled arrows for Daryl's crossbow and had helped him get used to holding and firing it. He could accurately shoot a tin can from roughly a mile away, and that was only after the first week.

Daryl was still shaky, and didn't like to be alone with anyone other than Rick or Carol, who came to see him at least a few times a day. Whenever Rick helped him outside he would listen to the others talk, slowly working on how to identify traits that separated the voices from each other, the slight emphasis of the "r" or a slight lisp. He was soon able to identify almost anyone by the sound of their voice. But he was also able to hear his attacker. Whenever he heard the low, harsh voice he would freeze, going into a panic were he would curl on in a small ball and shake until the voice was gone. The panic was so terrible that when Rick asked him who's the voice was, he couldn't name it. That voice belonged to one of his so called friends, but he could never connect it.

Two and a half weeks after the attack it was time to remove the bandages and stitches from Daryl's eyes. Rick had convinced Hershel to let him stay beside Daryl as he worked, promising to stay out of the way. The whole camp was tense, most everybody praying that Daryl would be able to see. Rick watched anxiously as Hershel removed the bandages, revealing the scaring flesh knitted with thread. Daryl held onto Rick's hand tightly as the old vet worked carefully, snipping away each stitch as gently as he could. It took almost an hour for the five hundred stitches on Daryl's scared up face, then Daryl opened his eyes.

"I can't see a thing." He said, his glossy, pale blue eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Rick closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry..." Rick muttered. Daryl tightened his grip on his hand.

"Why? You didn't do this to me..."

Rick sat next to Daryl through the rest of the procedure, over a thousand stitches all together. It took so long and it hurt so bad that Daryl just fell asleep once Hershel clipped the last one. Rick gently brushed the hunter's over-long hair out of his eyes and pulled the covers up. He looked over at Hershel who was wiping his hands with a sad expression.

"I doubt his sight will return." Hershel said before Rick could ask. "If it does it would be a miracle. But, then again, so is the rising of the dead so who knows?"

Rick gave a small laugh. He looked back at Daryl and sighed sadly. He opened his mouth to speak when the door opened and Shane came in.

"I'm heading into town with Glenn; I just wanted to see how he is." Shane explained, looking at the sleeping figure. Rick had noticed a slight movement from Daryl, his muscles stiffening when Shane spoke. Rick also noticed the small twitch in the corner of his best friend's mouth.

He had known it was Shane who had attacked Daryl, he was the only tall, muscled Caucasian, that could have swiped his knife. He would have kicked his teeth in and sent him on his way, but Lori seemed to still think he was good, despite Dale's warnings and the barn incident. It was because of that, and the lack of real proof, that made Rick keep his fist at his side and the gun in the holster.

"He's fine." Rick said, glaring at Shane, who smiled and nodded before ducking out.

"Rick?" Daryl muttered. Hershel looked between the two others and nodded, leaving the room. Rick was quiet a moment before moving and sitting on the bed by Daryl, placing a hand on his arm.

"I'm here, Daryl." He said softly. Daryl put his hand on Ricks, squeezing it slightly.

"That voice…." Daryl said softly, his voice timid.

"I know…" Rick said, and Daryl turned his head in his direction. Rick sighed sadly. "But we don't have enough proof."

Daryl nodded and tightened his grip on Rick's hand.

"Can you stay?" He mumbled. Rick squeezed his hand back and gave a very sad smile.

"Yea, I'll stay." He said. He kicked off his shoes and took off his police shirt so he was in a tank-top. He slid in the bed with Daryl and they resumed the familiar position as they listened to each other's breathing.

They lay in silence for a long while before Daryl spoke.

"Rick…you and Lori had a fight two weeks ago….are things still bad?" He asked, his pale eyes staring ahead, looking kind of creepy. Rick sighed and nodded.

"Yea…she's been quiet. She hardly talks to me." He said. Daryl nodded and closed his eyes.

"I think you should know something…"Daryl said hesitantly. Rick frowned and looked at him.

"What should I know?" Rick asked skeptically.

"It's…." Daryl said, biting his lip. "I just…I hear things coming from Shane's tent….always when she goes in it…."

Rick looked at Daryl in disbelief. He wanted to tell Daryl he was wrong, that Lori would never….but he knew she would, and knew that Daryl's new hearing was almost infallible.

"So…she's sleeping with Shane?" He asked. Daryl sighed.

"I don't know…I think so." He said quietly. Rick bit his lip, trying to hold back his tears.

"Damn…." He muttered, Daryl sat up on his elbows, crawling his hand up Rick's chest and to his face. Rick had gotten used to the intimate touches of the blind man. He took Daryl's hand and nodded against it.

"I'm so sorry…" Daryl muttered, wiping away the few tears that were falling down Rick's cheek.

"We were drifting apart a long time ago." Rick said with a sigh. "Even before the dead started walking."

Daryl nodded and dropped his hand.

"Is there anything I can do?" The hunter asked, looking tired. Rick took a breath and let it out slowly.

"No, Daryl, thank you but there isn't. Thank you for telling me, though, I'm glad I know now." Rick said, laying a hand on the hunter's shoulder.

Daryl nodded and rested against Rick's chest, gripping the cop's shirt. How did things get this fucked up? He thought to himself, listening as Rick took in shaky breaths, trying to cry quietly. The blind man closed his eyes and gave a sigh.

"You're a good man Rick." He muttered. "You don't deserve this."

Rick shook his head and put his hand on Daryl's back, pulling him closer instinctively.

"Allot of people don't deserve allot of things." He said in return, gently trailing a finger over one of Daryl's many scars. Daryl nodded and held onto Rick's hand.

"Try and sleep." The hunter said softly. "I'll stay here with you."

Rick smiled and gave a small chuckle. "That's my line you son of a bitch." He said. Daryl grinned and rested against Rick's chest, and they lay there, both silent, and both comforting each other until they both fell asleep.