Chapter Text
Ope woke with a start at the sound of a knock on the door; or, more specifically, the knock Jax used when they were kids. Rubbing his eyes, he felt a jolt of alarm and quickly glanced at Daryl's back, relieved to see the man shift under the covers. Despite his self-tasked job of staying up all night to keep an eye on him, Opie'd fallen asleep on top of the comforter.
Chibs, hidden under blankets on the other bed, groaned dramatically. "Opie. Get it."
Opie grumbled and rolled off the bed, his boots hitting the carpet; he'd never bothered getting undressed. The TV, soundless, was the only light in the room besides a lamp in the corner and sunlight filtering through cracks in the drapes.
Six fucking am.
Cursing both Jax's and Clay's early bird instincts, Ope stood, stretched, and went to peer through the spyhole. It was indeed Jax, though he didn't have his 'leader' face on yet, trying awkwardly to balance a bag of fast food and coffee-holder. His hair was still wet from a shower and tucked behind a ear, and he was wearing his usual plaid blue flannel.
"Just Jax," Opie mumbled to the other inhabitants, before undoing the chain and locks. He only cracked it open, making the point others were still sleeping inside. "Now that's the way to greet a man," he said, his mouth already watering at the smell of coffee.
Jax smiled, extending the food with all the chipper morning energy Opie had always been jealous of. "Morning Ope."
"Which one's mine?" Opie asked of the coffee, propping the door with his foot to take the food.
"All black, take any." Opie noticed Jax trying to casually peer in the room after him. Ope left the door cracked, and trying not to make a racket, put it all on a coffee table. There was a rustling and he glimpsed Chibs squinting sleepily at the sight of food, hair messy and in a wife beater.
Grabbing two coffees, Opie joined Jax in the brisk air, shutting the door and handing him his coffee. The sun was still in the process of breaking over the treeline, the motel signage lit even this early in the morning.
"So how's it been in there?" Jax asked, crossing his leg and leaning against a wall. The early highway noise was just a low hum.
"It's been alright. He sleeps, we watch TV. I kicked Chibs' ass at Grand Theft Auto." He shrugged, trying to give the impression he couldn't think of much else.
Jax looked unbelieving. "That's it?"
"What do you mean, that's it?"
"I mean, he's doing alright? Shit, man, I thought going through something like that would fuck a man up."
"Vulture."
"What? I can't ask?"
"Fine," Ope conceded, knowing he'd at least be speaking in confidence. "Daryl's fucked. Pretty sure he's going through withdrawal, and add in...I think they're panic attacks, he kinda...curls up under the blanket. Goes rigid."
"Crying?"
"Yeah, sobbing for his mom." Jax was all attention, and Ope gave him another glare. "No, he's not. I don't know, when he turns his back on me I leave him alone, not my damn business. He's not loud about it, if you're asking." He paused to take a sip of coffee. "Curiosity satisfied?"
"Yeah, yeah, and my mouth is sealed," Jax said, looking off at the sun again. "Oh! Bobby got that call set up, if he still wants to talk to his brother. First chance is tonight, around 8."
"I'll let him know. Plan for the day?"
"I asked Happy to take all the Nomads on a bogus mission, so it's just Charming and Tacoma now. There's a new drop location now, no chance of a leak, no way any of us would be in with these small-town psychos. The Brotherhood'll pay for what they did, you know. If you wanna tell Daryl that, we'll back him, brother."
"Don't tell him, that, bro, he's got enough shit in his head right now already, does need revenge on top of it."
"So what's the plan with him, anyways?"
"You're asking me?"
"You'd ask me?"
"Well...on this, no, guess I wouldn't. Well...I do have ideas. I still haven't convinced him yet, but hear me out."
-|-
Chibs sat on the bed in front of Daryl, the other man shifting and squinting bleary eyes at him.
"Got sugar, if you don't like it black," he said, holding up the coffee in plain sight.
"Black's fine," Daryl ground, voice still scratchy from sleep. He sat up slowly, propping himself gingerly against the bed-stand to accept the coffee. He looked like hell warmed over, deep shadows under his eyes, bruises dotting enough skin to make recent troubles obvious.