Things

Daryl’s learned how to quickly observe a space before he fully enters it. That’s part of what years of survival teach you. That’s how he knew something was wrong before he even walked through the front door to his home. The house was quiet. Too quiet for someone who usually greeted him when he came home. You always call out to him. Ask how the run went. Complaining about something at the very least.

Instead, there was nothing.

“Y/N?”

No answer.

Daryl’s stomach immediately dropped. You were supposed to be home, that’s where you said you would be. It was too late in the day for you to be anywhere else. Setting his crossbow down, Daryl begins looking for you. He starts with the kitchen. Maybe you were making something to eat? Except it was empty. Then he moves to the living room, hoping to see you napping on the couch. It was empty, too. Just as he was about to turn and bolt up the stairs, he caught a glimpse of you.

You’re not on the couch, but curled up on the floor beside it, tucked away between it and the armchair. Your arms are wrapped around your knees, keeping them pulled tightly against your chest, and you’re trembling so hard it rattled the side table behind you. Your breathing was coming in short, sharp gasps, as if you can’t seem to catch your breath. Your eyes are open, but glossed over as if you weren’t really seeing anything.

“Y/N?”

Daryl dropped to his knees beside you.

Nothing. No reaction. Not even a quick look at his direction. Your gaze remains fixed somewhere beyond him, far away, lost. Daryl’s heart starts pounding.

“Sweetheart?” Still nothing.

Your hands are hugging your knees so tightly that your knuckles are white. You’re still trembling hard enough that Daryl could practically feel it through the hardwood floor. It’s then that the archer realizes what is going on. You’re having a panic attack, and by the looks of it, one of the worst ones you’ve had in a while.

“Hey.” He slowly moved into your line of sight, trying to catch your gaze. “Look at me.” Your eyes don’t move. It’s almost as if you can’t even hear him, not really. The panic was too loud. Everything around you was drowned out.

The room.

The house.

Even Daryl.

All of it felt distant, as if you were drowning under water.

“Damn it.” Daryl isn’t angry, he’s petrified. He’s never seen you like this before.

He carefully reaches out, gently pulling one of your hands out of your tight grip on your legs to take into his own. Your skin is ice cold, fingers trembling so hard they hurt.

“Sweetheart, c’mon.” You don’t respond. Tears stream down your face, but you don’t seem to notice. Daryl shifts closer, enough so that his knees are pressed against your shins. Close enough that you couldn’t possibly miss him. His free hand reached up to cup your cheek. It’s warm, solid, and real. The touch makes your eyes flicker, just for a moment. There, that’s what he’s attempting to do.

“There ya are,” Daryl says softly. His thumb brushed the tears beneath your eye. He’s slow, gentle, repeating the motion over and over, trying to give you something to focus on. Something real, something safe, something predictable.

Your breathing hitched. It’s still too fast, but your eyes flick to Daryl again. Just for a moment, then they disappear again.

Daryl takes a breath, then does the only thing he can think of. His arms reach out, pulling you against him. He’s careful, moving slowly so as not to startle you. His arms wrap around you, holding you tightly against his chest. He wants you to feel safe, protected, contained in a way that you don’t feel threatened, but you aren’t able to accidentally hurt yourself.

“I got ya.” His voice rumbled through your hair as he rested his chin on the top of your head. It’s low, steady, and he repeats the same thing over and over.

“I got ya.”

A hand moves up and down your back.

“I got ya, sweetheart.”

Over and over, Daryl repeats the phrase.

Again and again, you can’t hear him. Not fully, anyway. But eventually, your body picks up on his pattern. The steady pressure, the warmth, the voices. Even his heartbeat beneath your cheek.

It’s Daryl. He’s safe. He’s home. He always makes sure you’re ok.

The panic doesn’t immediately disappear, but it starts loosening its grip on you little by little. Your muscles begin to ache, every one of them. It’s as if you had been running for miles, never ending. Your hands tingled, then burned, then went strangely numb. The same happens to your feet. It’s the result of being tense for so long. You hate the feeling.

“D-Daryl…” The word barely came out.

His entire body relaxed. Finally, you had heard him.

“There you are.” The relief in his voice is impossible to miss.

You try speaking again, but your voice fails you. Your jaw is throbbing. Your chest burns. Every part of your body is aching.

Daryl immediately adjusts his grip now that you are more coherent. One hand moves to the back of your head, supporting you. “Easy.” Your legs are weak, completely useless as they fall limp against Daryl. The panic has wrung every bit of strength from your body. When Daryl tried helping you stand, your knees nearly buckled.

“Whoa.” He catches you instantly, arms still wrapped around you. “Easy, sweetheart.”

“I can’t feel my hands.” The words came out slurred, slow, exhausted, and breathy as you still can’t get your jaw from aching.

Daryl’s expression softened immediately. “Yeah?” He removes one hand from being wrapped around you to take one of yours, squeezing it gently. “That happens sometimes.”

Your eyes slowly drift down to your feet. “Or my feet.” Daryl can tell just by looking at you that you were miserable and completely worn out. You looked as if you had fought a war. If you were being honest, it felt like you had.

It takes a few minutes, but Daryl manages to slowly guide you to the couch. He wraps you in blankets, a glass of water on standby, and one of his hands still wrapped around yours. He refuses to let go, even for a moment. Every time your breathing sped up again, when it felt like the panic would consume you, his thumb brushed across your knuckles. It helps ground you, keeping you in the present and out of your head. It keeps you with him.

Hours pass, and the worst of it has come and gone. Your head rests against Daryl’s shoulder. Hands still tingling, body aching, voice rough, you manage a soft, “Daryl?”

“Yeah?”

You swallow, sitting in silence for a moment. “Sorry.”

Without hesitation, Daryl pulls you closer. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“‘Pologize.” His cheek rests lightly against the top of your head. For a moment neither of you speak. Then quietly, he says, “Ain’t gotta survive everythin’ by yourself, sweetheart.”

Your eyes sting, however not from panic this time. Something else, something warmer. He’s been using the nickname he’s reserved only for special, rare occasions. One’s where he doesn’t know quite what to do, but he knows that the name calms you.

But then, there was you.

You came into his life so suddenly, so unprompted and without reason that he didn’t even pay any attention at first. Too dazed and caught up in his self pity to realize that this was different. That maybe, there was something for him in this life after all, something good that wasn’t drugs or riding.

And he wouldn’t have, that he knows, if it hadn’t been for you showing him. Forcing him to see what this could become, almost violently, with a power he didn’t think you possessed. Not that gentle soul, way too innocent to even get caught up in those circles you navigated with ease. A ray of light inmidst fistfights and black eyes.

Too caught off guard, Daryl didn’t even get a chance to fight it. To grab something to hold onto to stop him from falling, hard. He was slipping, hands reaching out desperately, but they caught nothing. Then — your hand.

Again, he only blinked in disbelief, because he hadn’t fallen into the dark abyss he feared, but it didn’t make a difference. He was still down bad, and that in spite of standing in the same place. Holding your hand, too.

You just had this way about you, he began to learn as time passed. This way of taking all his fears away somehow. It was… strange, really. He didn’t think there were people like you. Didn’t think that there was anyone capable of making him feel like this, either.

… Happy. Yeah, that’s what it was. And you were the reason for it. Huh.

With you by his side, it was like nothing could stop him. Not even the apocalypse. No, quite the opposite, it was like with the dead walking, he finally had something to offer to you in return. Protection, his survival skills earned with scars and sweat. Not that you had ever complained about what he gave you. Being beneath you was only something he worried about, never you; for in Daryl Dixon’s arms, you were right where you wanted to be.

Yeah, this was good. This was a type of love neither of you ever expected to experience. It was breathtaking in the best way, that one where you didn’t even feel you needed air to live if you had his kisses instead.

Daryl was content with the way things were, more than that.

Yet, that day at the prison, everything changed and you managed to surprise him once again.

Pregnant. You were pregnant. He wasn’t sure he heard you right at first. But surely, that was what you had said. Repeated it when he stayed silent, at a loss for words.

A million thoughts raced trough his head at once.

Ah, so that’s why you were acting so strange the last couple of days. It explained a lot. For a minute there, you had him worried. Thought you’d led him here to that secret spot behind the cellblock for something else. If he didn’t know any better, and if it wasn’t for the years of whispered promises and forevers, he’d think you were going to break up with him.

He felt glad at first, but the relief was immediately overshadowed with reality catching up. You were going to have a baby. He couldn’t believe it.

Lori was still fresh on his mind. The way they had taken care of her, done everything in their power to keep her healthy all winter, under the worst possible circumstances. The way Rick had looked at her, the way they had been prepared as best as possible, with prenatal vitamins and Hershel and — and the way it hadn’t made any difference. How this was still the end of the world, and they had dug another grave that day.

Daryl stared at you. Into your eyes, pictures and memories of that time flashing trough his head. But you brought him back to the present, without even saying anything. No, it was that hesistance shimmering behind the colors in your iris. That… holding back. You looked insecure in a way he hadn’t ever seen on you before. And it hurt, god, it hurt, because it made him realize that you had been cautious on purpose. Scared of his reaction, possibly.

He couldn’t take it. You had every right to be, you knew him, and that’s why you brought him here, to a place away from everything else. Why you had waited until this very moment to tell him.

Daryl knew you were right, but suddenly he felt the strong wish you had told him as soon as you had found out yourself. Because with one glance into your eyes, your own worries were laid bare. And he hadn’t spent all those years living beside you to fail to understand that you where thinking about Lori, too.

So, without saying a word, he pulled you into his arms. Something broke, the tension, and finally, you sobbed, face buried in his shirt. And Daryl? He just tightened his grip around you, one hand coming up to hold your head, as if trying to shield you from the whole outside world. He was shaking. There you were, just beside the fences where walkers snarled and it reeked of decay, desperately holding onto each other, hoping it would keep you from being pulled down into the abyss after all, rotten hands clawing at your feet, but you stood upright, steadied by each other’s presence.

It did.

It really did. Time continued to go by as if nothing had changed at all. And yet, between you, something had shifted.

Nobody knew at first. There was still the thought of an abortion looming in the air, it was just too early to tell them. Neither of you had made up their mind.

Yeah, you thought of Lori… but then again, there was also that image of Daryl, eyes glowing as he held baby Judith for the first time. And Daryl remembered the way it had felt, her tiny fingers wrapping around his, and he just couldn’t help that warm sensation blooming in his heart.

Ultimately, he wanted you to decide. It was your body, after all, even though the risk would be lasting heavily on his shoulders, as well.

Daryl knew you had wanted children before the outbreak. It made sense, you were that kind of person. It would suit you perfectly, any kid would be lucky to be raised by you.

And yeah… he would be lying if he hadn’t thought about it himself back then. Of course, it was mere fleeting thoughts, what-ifs, nothing more. The memory of his dad still too present; those scars on his back began to burn whenever he thought about it for too long.

He was terrified of being a father. Before you, it had never been part of the equation. Hell, there was no fucking equation, he was alone and convinced it would stay that way.

But then again… after only one month of knowing you, Daryl was sure that he could never deny you anything. That conviction only settled with every single one that followed.

And it was still the same, even now that the world had gone to shit. He realized it only a few days after you had told him. Spoke to you about it. And his eyes softened when you confessed that you just… just couldn’t bear to lose another person. If it had been someone else, he’d have had half a heart to remind them that there was no person. Just a clump of cells, a mistake if you would. A moment of thoughtlessness.

But he would have been lying. Because right there in your stomach, something was growing. Not a person… more than that. A whole damn future.

So he told you that instead.

Still, nothing had been officially decided. It just… became a point of understanding between you that you would have it. And the pair of you remained convinced of that, even when the prison fell and with it, the idea of a life as the group had previously entertained it.

It didn’t matter, because your and Daryl’s future was right there inside of you.

With how protective he became, it wasn’t long until the others found out. He’d been possessive before, glued to your side to take out every walker that dared take a step towards you. If that hadn’t been bad, it was most definitely worse now. There was this almost manic glint in his eyes, burning like fire. You were to only one capable of bringing him back, calming him down a bit in his paranoia.

All in all, you knew Daryl well enough to understand that he was very much in his right mind, even though his actions may have proven otherwise. He was just focused. Dead focused on keeping not only you, but the baby alive as well. No time to even think about whether this was the right decision after all.

Which was a good thing, because you knew about his fears. About his own childhood and the way he had looked at Carl after the boy had lost his mother.

It was all good. He was right to become your protector like that, it wasn't excessive, no exaggeration in the world you were living in. With the way you had morning sickness now from time to time or how you got weak if you went without food for too long. It almost never happened, though: Daryl was there after all, and he always managed to get you more than enough. You almost had to force him to take his half of the squirrel, because you truly couldn’t eat another bite and he needed the energy just as much as you.

“But you’re the one eatin’ fer two.”

“And you’re the one providing for three!”

That shut him up alright, though he grumbled something along the lines of you doing just as much as him.

In a way, keeping you and that child alive was a way to cope for Daryl. He had something to do — it mattered. The world may be crumbling all around you, but something pure and healing was growing inside of you, and it was a little bit because of him, too. There was more to reality than death, rotting and decay.

It felt good to know that. And sometimes, he allowed himself to dream for just a minute, of the future. He wasn’t in those daydreams, mostly. It was only… you. You and your daughter, or son. He liked both ideas equally. How you would hold them in your arms, coo at them and that cute giggle he was sure you’d make. He wondered if it would do those too, crawling just like Judith was learning to right now.

It kept him going. That, and the way you kissed him thanks everytime he killed a walker before it could get to you. The way you squealed when the baby kicked for the first time, and how you immediately led his hand to your stomach to show him. The way he had something to protect, and you let him.

Even though you both know that you could have gotten that walker easily.

It did keep him going, yeah. Daryl wouldn’t have minded continuing on like this, even though ultimately, he knew it wouldn’t work out. On the run constantly, without home and safety. He didn’t want you to give birth right there on the roadside. Good thing that there were still some months to go.

Still… it was a harsh blow having this taken from him.

Alexandria. He should have been filled with relief at the sight of the gates, the houses, the steady roads and well-kept front yards.

Still. To Daryl, it was a painful confrontation.

With white picket fences and a life he never got to live.

Alexandria is, yeah, pretty safe. It’s what they always wanted to find, what Rick dreamed of and Hershel was so sure they would build someday. It’s good, real good.

He should be happy about it. Hell, he is. Or at least, he felt immense relief the day they stepped behind those walls. And yet… it’s not the whole truth.

Daryl feels terribly guilty about it, but a big part of him wishes Aaron had never led them to the safe zone.

It’s stupid, really. The town is perfect, actually. There’s enough food to last years, and guns, even though most of the people here don’t even know how to use them.

Canned spaghetti and what, chocolate chip cookies? Wine… you’re not drinking any, of course, but that’s only a small part of the generous buffet laid out at this pretentious welcoming party.

Now, Daryl doesn’t mind cookies. Not like he loves eating raw meat, anyway. But… you hadn't even looked at the squirrels he brought back from outside, yesterday.

And that’s what gets him. It doesn’t even make sense, but… Well, obviously, Alexandria takes better care of you than he ever could. He hates himself for even thinking that, but it’s frustrating.

It’s like… all these past months he has lived for you. To protect, to hunt, to provide — that had been his first goal everyday, hell, that was his expectation of the future. And he was really good at it, too. It wasn’t easy, no. But he made it work. Brought back enough food to keep up your health. Even managed to scavenge a fucking jar of pickles once, when you craved them, from some cabin in the woods cupboard. Always gave you half of his portion, even though you insisted he should finish it. It was alright. He knew his limits. ‘Cause there was really only one — you, keeping you alive. He’d starve if that meant you would live, but he was also aware of the fact that you kinda needed him right now and forever, so death wasn’t an option.

Of course not. You were too damn good a team.

Daryl noticed how it got more difficult right before they met Aaron. How quiet you got suddenly… Jaw clenched tight, he saw that the situation was hard on you. It physically hurt him to see you like this. Dragging yourself along the road, determined but exhausted. The morning sickness had really set in now, too, and you got dizzy more often.

He did everything he could to lift your spirits, despite the worry gnawing at his heart. Walked next to you, one arm slung around your waist, supporting your body. Gave you piggy back rides even though you protested, and that got a smile out of you. But he felt it fall against his shoulder, felt the effort it took you to hold on.

You were fine now.

Daryl knew that, though his heart hadn’t fully caught on yet. His instinct was still to hover around you, ready to save you if something happened — but nothing happened. This wasn’t the dark woods with snarling corpses all around, this was Deanna’s house.

This was a party, even though his flight instinct could have fooled him.

Nevertheless, he was watching. Observing, from the corner, making sure you really were as fine as your glowing eyes and the laughing suggested. Surrounded by a couple of Alexandria women, happily chatting away.

You looked pretty. As always. Stunning, as if you were made for cocktail dresses and social gatherings. Everything suited you.

Daryl felt uncomfortable. Like… he didn’t belong here, in his muddy boots and the scruffy leather jacket. Frustrated, he took a sip of his beer. The only good thing at this party, except for your smiles.

“You’re staring again.”

His eyes shot up. Hadn’t even seen Carol approach, too caught up in his own thoughts.

Carol. She, too, seemed to fit right in. Hell, it was her who brought the damn cookies. Strange, truly. It was like everyone had become a different person overnight.

Slowly, his gaze drifted to you again. He didn’t say anything, didn’t have to. Carol probably saw right into his head, anyway. And there really wasn’t any denying just what — who — he spent this whole evening looking at, either.

He felt the sofa dip as she sat down next to him. “Having fun, pookie?”

A huff. Very funny. He probably radiated frustration. Would hope the Alexandrians knew you were together, otherwise this would look kinda creepy. Woud, if he cared about impressions.

He felt Carol’s eyes on him, didn’t like it. How she assessed him with one glance, always looking right through him. If it was anyone else, he would’ve felt uncomfortable.

“… She is.”

Daryl turned away from you across the room then, instead focusing on the woman next to him. “S’pose.”

And then Carol tilted her head, in that way that always made him yield and drop the act.

His voice was gruff, barely above a grumble. “Ain’t blamin’ her. Got all these new friends ‘n shit.”

“You jealous?” Her eyes bore right into his, so he looked at his knees instead, picking at a loose thread in his jeans.

“Nah.” It was the truth. Why would he be, when he knew you were happy? You deserved to have some fun. Last weeks had been exhausting for everbody, but they were straight up hell for you.

“But you miss her.”

Daryl bit the inside of his cheek. Contemplating. Did he? You were right over there, after all. “Ain’t missin’ anyone. Just… making sure she’s alrigh’.”

“Why don’t you go over and ask her?”

He looked up, then. Shot Carol a meaningful look. “… She’s busy.”

Carol just chuckled, and right now, he didn’t like that sound. It was like she knew something about him he didn’t. “Oh, Daryl… I’m sure she’ll make time for you.”

He scoffed. “Don’t need ‘er ta.”

She raised a brow. “Why haven’t you spoken to her all evening?”

A shrug. He was looking at the floor again.

“Well even if you don’t miss her, I’m sure she misses you. You were glued together for months. Didn’t leave her side. She must feel lonely, now.”

Daryl jerked his head into your direction, “That don’t look lonely to me.”

You were still smiling, sitting there with a glass of cranberry juice in your hands, nodding and smiling at something one of the ladies said.

“Pookie… You really want to believe that, don’t you?” Carol shook her head, a sympathetic glint in her eyes.

His head snapped back, frowing at her. “Ain’t just making that shit up. She’s happy, she deserves a break from everythin’ else.”

A pause. “You mean from you?”

That silenced him for a moment. He meant… the world out there. Not himself in particular, but now that he thought about it… Yeah, sure.

“Maybe, I dunno.” He averted his eyes, didn’t want to face her now. Too vulnerable.

Carol’s voice grew more quiet, then, gentle. She leaned in a bit, forcing him to look at her. “Daryl, she’s gonna have a baby.”

His jaw tightened. “Yeah, I know.” As if he didn’t think about that constantly. He was scared shitless, even more so now that his coping mechanism — keeping you alive out there — was taken from him. No routes, scavenging, plans to take his mind off of things. No, he was just… thinking. Imagining the future.

He was really excited to hold it in his arms. Maybe it’d be like Judith. So small… Tiny enough to lay stretched out on only his forearm, reaching from elbow to palm. And he’d cradle it, he’d never want to let go. Cause it would be his, not someone else’s.

Though secretly, he hopes it’ll be just like you. With that glowing smile he loves… Nothing like him, hopefully. What he likes even more is imagining you holding it. He can see it clearly… And as soon as that day comes, he might just look away lest his heart explode.

… If that day comes.

Lori never got to hold Judith in her arms.

If he never got to hold you again, he isn’t sure the baby could make up for that. He already loves it more than anything else, but if he lost you… Daryl isn’t sure he could do that to the child. Maybe he’d have to ask someone else to raise it, then. Because seeing you in the baby everday… It would be so painful. His heart is already breaking just imagining it. He’s not sure he could bear it… And he wouldn’t have the kid suffer from that. No… he’s probably not gonna be a very good father anyway. If he didn’t have you to help him, he’d fail for sure.

“Daryl.” Carol’s voice pulls him out of the darkness his thought were spiraling into with a rapid pace. She’s gripping his shoulders, looking into his eyes. Smiling, genuinely, not fake like she did when greeting Deanna earlier. “You two are gonna have a baby. That’s a good thing!”

He suddenly feels tears burning behind his eyes, but he blinks them away, confused at his own reaction. His voice cracks slightly as he speaks. “Wasn’t a good thing for Lori…”

Carol’s eyes soften. “It’s not gonna be like that.”

He exhales. “How d’you know that?”

She pats his shoulders comfortingly, then pulls back. Motions to one of the women surrounding you. “See that lady? Green dress.”

He grunts, “Yeah.”

“Well,” She glances at him from the side, triumpanthly. “She’s a midwife.”

“A midwife.” Daryl’s speechless. He knew that there was a doctor, surgeon or something, but that guy seemed a little off somehow. Father of two boys, and still so… cold.

“You know what that is?”

He shook his head, voice low. “Yeah… ‘Course I do. Just didn’t…” He trails off.

Carol smiles knowingly. There’s a teasing glimmer in her eyes. “Well, what did you think they were talking about?”

Daryl just shrugs, but for the first time in months, he feels confident. Or at least — not as scared. Like maybe, he likes Alexandria way better than he thought he did.

He sinks back into the cushions, shoulder bumping against Carol’s. The beer can rests on his knee, long forgotten. Instead, his eyes find you over the crowd again. Their favorite place to rest.

Warmth floods his heart, as he watches how animatedly you talk to that woman in the green dress. About what, he isn’t sure. Doesn’t matter, though.

You’re happy. That’s all he cares about.

“It’s gonna be different, Daryl. It is.”

The get together stretches way into the night, becoming, well… A full blown party, actually. There’s liquor being poured, music, dancing even. Maggie and Rosita seem to be having the time of their life, dragging other people onto the “dance floor” which is actually just the middle of the living room, now empty since Abraham has pushed the furniture to the side.

He doesn’t care for parties, never did, though this is unlike any he’s ever been at. A grown-up party, one could say. For rich people. Very different from the ones Merle used to drag him to when he was younger. There was beer at those too, just, well, it wasn’t as popular as other drugs being offered.

Today, Daryl has only had one beer and a few cookies, but he feels intoxicated anyway. Gets like that just from looking at you. You’re not dancing, maybe because you’re not drunk, you only had juice the whole time. Instead, you’ve been talking to Tara for a while now. Standing a bit on the side, apart from the others.

He feels relieved somehow, knowing you’re not completely been claimed by those Alexandria women. It’s — incredibly reassuring to know there’s a midwife in their midst, but still, he’s glad to see that you’re still with your old friends, too. Makes him feel confident he’ll be able to drag you away, soon.

He loves seeing you happy, but you should get some sleep! Rest, for both your and the baby’s sake. And yeah, okay — maybe for his, too, cause he’d rather have you curled up against his side in bed right now than spend his time here with all the other people.

Daryl’s been quietly waiting until what he thinks is an okay time to ask you to leave. But to his surprise, you make your way over to his corner a good half hour before that.

As soon as he realizes you’re walking towards him, his legs begin to move. He doesn’t even think about it, just makes his way through the crowd and meets you halfway.

Wordlessly, right in the middle of the dimmed, noisy room, he slings his arms around you, holding you tight against his chest. You bury your face in his shirt, simply breathe for a moment. He physically feels the tension in your shoulders melt away. Just holds you like that for a while, grounding, until you pull away slightly.

And finally, he sees you smile again. For the hundredth time this night, and still, it has his heart beating out of his chest just like the first time all those years ago.

Your voice is soft, and you lean up to whisper into his ear so he hears it inmidst the loud thumping of the music. “Take me home?”

Home. Warmth floods his heart at the word, the word you use to refer to the house you’ve been assigned. He didn’t believe he’d ever think of Alexandria as a home.

He was a fool. A complete and utter idiot.

Lacing his fingers through yours, he nods. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and he starts walking, pulling you through the crowd. There’s people left and right saying goodnight, see you tomorrow, so nice getting to know you, and you wave at every one of them, kindly return their greetings, but he just keeps on walking until the door finally falls shut behind the two of you.

The sky is dark, the calm, cool breeze a stark contrast to the stuffy air inside. And it’s so, so quiet.

You exhale. Step a little closer so you’re leaning into his side, then. “Way better, huh?”

Daryl nods. Yes, infinitely better. Having you close again, and the noise far away. This is how he likes it best, and suddenly the thought occurs to him that even if it weren’t for Alexandria, he’d be fine if you were standing next to him like this.

His arm comes up and slides around your waist. You take his free hand and lead it to your stomach, so it’s resting right against the faint bump.

Quietly, “I think it’s gonna be a girl.”

His eyes, formerly mesmerized by the sight of his fingers splayed across your tummy, come up to meet yours. “Why?”

You smile. “I don’t know. I just feel it.”

His eyes soften. “Mhm. I’d like that.” He rubs gentle circles across your skin, so careful, so terribly tender your heart warms.

“Let’s get going?”

He hums, hand coming up to take yours again like it’s second nature. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

The town is quiet, only your footsteps echoing through the empty streets. It still feels safe. And Daryl lets his guard down for the first time in a long time. Relishing solely in the feeling of your skin against his, and the way you hold his hand tightly like you don’t want to let go.

“She kicked again today.“ Your soft voice breaks the silence.

Daryl looks so excited, it’s really cute. Who would have thought the tough hunter could get so excited about small things! Except for you, of course. You’ve known him for years, and seen him giddy about many silly things.

“You hurtin’?” His brows furrow as he looks at you, squeezing your hand.

You giggle like it’s cute that he’s worried. “Aww… no. It’s not painful kicking, more like… I don’t know. It’s hard to describe. Julie told me that’s a good sign. Babies get excited about stuff that happens in the outside world, as well… She must’ve liked the cranberry juice!”

Daryl nods, listening attentively. As if filing away all that information for later and like he’s already plotting to bring you bottles full of that juice for breakfast tomorrow. Even if it’s not something he’ll find outside, hunting.

“She that midwife in the green dress?”

You look up, surprised. “You heard?”

He shrugs. Bites the inside of his cheek, footsteps heavy on the gravel. “Carol told me.”

And then, a big smile stretches across your face. “Isn’t that totally amazing? I was so glad they had a surgeon, but now a midwife, too! Alexandria is really the best thing that could’ve happened to us.”

“’m glad too.” Daryl’s eyes soften as he looks at you. And for the first time in the couple of days you’ve been here, he feels like it’s true.

Like you’re right.

Like Alexandria is really the best fucking thing that’s happened to you in a long while.

And like there’s gonna be a future.

Daryl hasn’t quite adjusted to everything, no. Not to the sheltered people who haven’t seen the horros of the new world. Not to the fact that spaghetti is something he can have everyday now. Not to the squeaking door leading to the porch that he still has troubles opening, while you figured it out on first try.

But you just laugh when he fumbles with the lock, before motioning for him to step aside and demonstrating the trick with the handle again.

That... that's what makes him so confident that things are gonna work out, Daryl thinks as you playfully bow in a gentleman like manner to lead him inside. He scoffs and shakes his head at your antics, but he knows you saw that small smile on his lips.

You, not the fact that there's a midwife. Or a surgeon. Or cranberry juice and chocolate chip cookies. Just... you. The way you believe not only that everything's gonna be alright, but how you believe in him, too.

Like he isn't useless all of a sudden, now that you're not fighting for your life anymore.

Like it doesn't matter that you've got everything you need to survive right here— Or, better even, like you never stayed with him for the mere sake of survival at all.

He knew that, of course he did. And still! His heart is overflowing when you pull him inside and close the door behind you. When you flick on the switch and the hallway is illuminated, and it's all clean and he places his boots next to your shoes on the floor.

When you shimmy out of your dress in front of the bedroom dresser, putting on one of his tattered sleeveless shirt instead. He tells you you looked beautiful tonight, you smile and say this is way more comfy. He raises a brow at that, cause he doesn't even know why he still carries that thing around in his bag at all. It’s torn on the side and there's holes in it, but you insist that it reminds you of the time at the quarry. Back when he was still a grump with a temper and poorly concealed, overwhelming devotion to you, and you were just as perfect as now.

He tells you that you look beautiful in that, too, that you always do, be it in a fancy dress or in his old shirt that's just scraps at this point. Crosses the room in two strides and kisses you, all while realizing with amazement how far you've come. That his past self, when he first met you all this time ago would've never thought he'd ever get to taste your lips, and that he'd probably have ran if he knew that he was gonna get you pregnant someday.

... And that he'd have come back the next day, a little sheepish but ultimately surrendering to the sheer happiness that idea brought to him. Apparently, he wasn’t all that different now, Daryl thinks as he lies down next to you, pulling the covers up and making sure you're tucked in well and warm as you shut the lights.

He's still a little scared. But maybe... maybe that's a good thing. He bets his father wasn't all that worried about becoming a good dad. If he was, he would've had to be so disappointed in himself that he might've been motivated to change up his way of parenting.

Daryl is anxious to do better than that.

Staring at the dark ceiling, the fear is just beginning to set in — but then you move. Let out a sleepy sound, mumbling something incoherent before you turn around and snuggle into his side, one arm splayed over his waist. His breath hitches, heart beating before he carefully, so as not to wake you, reaches out to slide his own arm around your shoulder, one hand behind your head to pull you even closer, resting comfortably against his chest.

You begin to snore softly, and he smiles into your hair. All worries forgotten in an instant... Because you're here, and he's not gonna lose you. And what can go wrong if he's got you right by his side?

Gently, his other hand comes up between your bodies... Resting on your stomach. Maybe she'll kick again tonight, he tells himself and tries to keep his excitement at bay. He'd like to feel it.

Really, he's just looking forward to the day he gets to meet her in person. To holding her, and seeing you cradle her in your arms. It's that simple. It's gonna be the happiest day of his life — if it weren't for every other equally blissful day he's got to spend with both you and her.

He won't mind if he doesn't feel her kick, Daryl thinks as he drifts into slumber. His hand stays right in place, though. No... He just wants the baby to know that he'll be there, and he's not ever gonna leave.