Shadows In Durango

*****Vincent's POV*****

I barged into the ICU like a mad man possessed, not caring who I had to bulldoze through in order to get to Daryl.

My breathing was becoming more erratic with the closer I got to him, the sterile smell of the hospital making my skin crawl. The fluorescent lights overhead began to flicker just enough to irritate me even more... "Where's my friend? I need to see him right now, his names Daryl, he's in with a gunshot wound!" I growled at the first nurse I spotted standing behind the counter, leaving no room for argument.

In order to get through, I needed a card, and so I wasn't prepared to be rejected on this one. I feared it would send me totally over the edge if she said no...

Her wide eyes blinked up at me as if I was speaking another language, but I didn't have time for her hesitation.

"He's not long out of surgery," she stammered, her voice too calm for the storm raging inside me. "Only family can—"

"I don't care about your fucking rules. I need to see him! He is my family!" My voice came out more like a snarl as I slammed my palms down on the counter, the pressure building inside threatening to boil over. Why won't they just make an exception on times like this?!

"You're going to let me in there right now." I warn, as she suddenly stands, looking around for what I'm assuming was some extra staff support.

I saw her hand hover over the phone, probably ready to call security on me, but just as I was about to lose my temper entirely, I heard a familiar voice.This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

"Vincent?! Oh dear lord!"

I turned sharply, my vision blurring for a second before I saw her - Daryl's aunt Amelia - standing behind the glass door in the ICU unit. The moment our eyes met, the fight left me, leaving only raw, gnawing emotion. I can't be seen acting deranged in front of her, not when she's probably beside herself with worry already over Daryl!

She looked tired, like she had been carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Her normally sharp eyes were red and swollen from crying, but when she saw me, she softened and took a step forward. Without a word, she motioned to the nurses, and I saw the silent conversation they had with the receptionist.

A few seconds later, the same one at the desk nodded and allowed me to pass through shakily handing me a card as I suddenly felt terrible for intimidating her like I had.

But I'll apologise for that later... at least I was getting in!

As soon as I stepped through the doors in to the back, she pulled me into a tight embrace, and I couldn't stop myself from collapsing into it. My chest felt heavy, my throat raw as I forced the words out. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice breaking against her shoulder. "I'm so fucking sorry about all of this."

She held on tighter, her hand running through my hair like I was still the kid who'd spend weekends at their place growing up. "It's not your fault, Vincent, what that young man done to him is none of your fault!" she murmured, but the words felt hollow in my ears.

How could it not be my fault? Daryl had taken that bullet because I involved him and sent him over there to look for Sofia without backup...

If I'd have gotten there sooner, if I would have just stopped him from going in alone...

I pulled back, staring at her through burning eyes. "I should've been there for him. He " I couldn't even finish the sentence, the guilt choking me all over again.

The memory of Daryl's blood on the floor boards haunted every thought, every breath I took. I don't know how I would continue to live without having him around...

"You were there when it mattered," she said gently, her thumb brushing away a tear I hadn't even realised had fallen. "He's alive, Vincent. And right now, that's what matters most. He could pull through to consciousness any minute now." She encourages me, adding more hope to the air than before.

I nodded numbly, but inside, I couldn't shake the dread coiled around my chest after what had happened.

Daryl might be alive, but he was fighting for every breath because of me.

As we walked further into the ICU, past the heavy doors that separated us from Daryl's room, I made a silent promise: that I wouldn't leave his side until he woke up.

If he does wake up...

"I'll give you some time alone in there, I called his Dad but... you know?" Amelia trails off in a sigh, as I nod understandably knowing exactly what she meant.

Daryl's Dad was a drug user, residing somewhere in LA the last we had heard... and if this wasn't enough to pull him back to sobriety, then what was?!

"Thanks." I nod, before taking in a full breath of air to prepare myself to enter the room where my friend lay unconscious.

The door to Daryl's room creaked open, and I stood there frozen in the doorway for a moment, unable to move. The beeping of the machines was the first thing to hit me, followed by the sight of him lying there, pale and still, surrounded by tubes and wires.

He looked nothing like the Daryl I knew the one always quick with a joke, full of life and energy. This person lying in front of me was a shell, a reminder of how close I'd come to losing him.

My legs felt heavy as I forced myself to walk to the bedside, each step dragging me further into the crushing weight of guilt.

When I reached him, I collapsed down into the chair next to his bed, my hands gripping the armrests like they were the only things keeping me sane.

My throat tightened as I looked down at him his skin was too pale, the bruises around the edges of the bandages stark against his usually vibrant complexion. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, aided by the machine hooked up to him, each breath sounding like a struggle.

I wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come. What could I even say? That I was sorry? That I didn't mean for this to happen to him? That I should've been there to take the bullet instead?

All those words felt useless right now...

No apology could change the fact that Daryl was lying here in a hospital bed because of me.

I leaned forward, my elbows resting on my knees, and buried my face in my hands.

"I'm so sorry, man," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I should've been there... I should've stopped this from happening to you."

I wished for some kind of sign to come, anything to let me know that Daryl could actually hear me that he knew I'd never forgive myself if he didn't make it out of this.

But there was nothing.

Just the steady beep of his heart monitor, reminding me that he was still here, still fighting for his damn life.

I sat there for what felt like hours, my mind racing with every "what if" I could think of.

I stood suddenly, the chair scraping loudly against the tiled floor as I moved closer to the bed.

I reached out to him, hesitating for a second before I gently placed my hand on Daryl's arm. It was cold, too cold, and I felt my heart constrict in my chest.

"You gotta pull through, D," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "You have to. I can't-" My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard, forcing myself to continue. "I can't lose you like this. Not after everything we've faced together over the years." Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I quickly wiped them away. I had to stay strong. For Daryl. For the both of us.

I heard the door creak open behind me and turned to see Amelia standing there, her eyes filled with the same sadness and hope that I felt on the inside.

She stepped into the room quietly, her gaze fixed on Daryl as she made her way over to me. She placed a hand on my shoulder, her touch warm and comforting, but it didn't lessen the weight that was pressing down on me.

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"Any change?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

I shook my head. "No... nothing yet."

She nodded, her lips pressed together in a thin line as she sat in the chair I had just vacated. "He's strong," she said, more to herself than to me. "He's been through worse than this before, right?" She questioned, almost trying to convince herself.

I wanted to agree, to say something reassuring, but the words caught up in my throat.

This didn't feel like something we could just walk away from. Daryl was always a fighter, the one who never backed down from a challenge.

But this?

This was different.

This wasn't something he could just punch his way out of.

"I'll stay here," I said after a long pause, my voice rough. "I'm not leaving him alone incase he wakes up."

Amelia gave me a small, sad smile. "I didn't think you would," she replied, squeezing my shoulder before standing. "I'll be right outside if you need anything."

I nodded, grateful that she understood.

I couldn't leave. Not until I knew Daryl was okay. Not until I made sure he wasn't going to slip away from us.

After she left, I sank back into the chair, my eyes never leaving Daryl.

The hours stretched on, each minute feeling like a lifetime as the day stretched in to night...

My thoughts drifted occasionally to Sofia, then to Reid, and to everyone who had been caught up in this nightmare. I didn't even know what to think anymore. The only thing I could focus on was Daryl, lying here, fighting to stay alive. I reached out again, gripping his hand this time. His fingers were limp in mine, but I held on, squeezing gently as if somehow, through sheer willpower alone, I could bring him back.

"Don't you dare give up," I whispered fiercely, my voice cracking. "You hear me, Daryl? You're not allowed to leave. Not yet."

And for the first time, as I sat there in the silence, something finally shifted...