#dixon

The sun was starting to peek through your curtain when you blinked awake. For a split moment, you thought you could still be sleeping as you listened to the breathing beside you. 

Daryl had an arm slung around your waist and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest pressed against your back. The weight of him made you wish you could stay there all morning, hell all day even.

You closed your eyes again just for a moment to relish in the safe feeling he gave you, but when you opened them again, you realized his body wasn’t the only thing making you want to sleep the day away.

You were exhausted, even after a full night’s rest. Your eyelids felt heavy on your face, wanting to slam shut. You sighed, loud enough it caused your boyfriend to stir next to you. 

“Mornin’,” he grumbled into his pillow before sitting up and wiping the sleep from his face.

“Good morning,” you replied, unsure if you could really call it that. He leaned over and pressed a small kiss to your shoulder, breathing you in in the way he always did when he was halfway between sleeping and being awake, a morning ritual at this point. He could never start his day without a fresh dose of you.

”You good?” He asked once you were both downstairs in the kitchen. He always knew somehow.

”Yeah,” you said. “Just tired.”

“Need more sleep?”

”The garden won’t tend itself.” Garden duty, that was your task of the day. You never minded it. There was always something to do in Alexandria and gardening was probably one of your favorite things, besides going on runs with Daryl. Despite how shit the world had gotten to, it was still nice getting out.

”I’d cover you, ya know,” he said, grabbing an apple off the countertop.

”You have to go to Hilltop with Rick. I’ll be fine.” But you knew he would if you truly wanted him to. Even something as small as needing more sleep had Daryl on his toes over you. He worried about you in ways he would never admit to.

He only nodded, understanding that you couldn’t, wouldn’t, just abandon your duties. He kissed you goodbye once before heading out the door to meet Rick by the gate.

By the time you were ready to go to the gardens, the sun had fully risen and was already beating down. You stuck on a wide-brimmed hat to keep the light out of your face and headed towards the plants in the center of town.

It had everything growing from tomatoes, to carrots, to corn, etc. And you had a lot to do, so you started right away with rummaging through the soil looking for weeds to pluck out.

Usually, you liked this part. The quietness, the routine. You felt useful, but today everything just felt heavy.

You were moving slower than usual, getting out of breath easier and fighting against the heat already settling in against your back. You found yourself needing to take more breaks to steady your breathing.

”Get it together,” you mumbled to yourself.

After a couple of hours, things still hadn’t let up. Even after an awful sleep, you would be alert by now, but you still felt the same desire to doze off. It was almost to the point you felt like slapping yourself to get some adrenaline pumping, but you decided to save yourself the embarrassment.

And then you felt it, the sharp pain rushing through your bare arm exposed by your rolled sleeve. You had reached your hand down, didn’t pay attention, and swiped your arm across a thick thorn. Warm, sticky blood trickled down your skin.

It wasn’t deep, but it was enough to stop work and get it taken care of. You felt silly, clumsy. Things you normally weren’t, especially with the protective nature of Daryl.

You stood up quickly and headed towards the infirmary. The faster you got it cleaned, the faster you could get back to work.

”Well there’s a rare sight,” exclaimed Siddiq upon seeing you enter.

You huffed a small laugh, sitting down on one of the beds. “Don’t get used to it.”

You watched in silence as he cleaned the dried blood off of your arm and cleaned the cut. It stung more than you had anticipated as he poured the strong-smelling alcohol over your skin.

”Sorry,” he whispered, not looking away from what he was doing. He grabbed a roll of gauze from the counter and started to wrap loops around your forearm. “Any dizziness? Nausua?”

”No, Siddiq, I’m fine.”

”You sure? You seem a little off today.”

”I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m just tired, promise.”

The look on his face looked almost like he didn’t want to believe you, but chose to anyway, nodding once before putting his supplies back into the cupboard. “I think you should head home, get some rest.” But he knew better, it was you he was talking to.

You smiled politely and walked out the door, heading straight back to your spot by the plants.

You found your place again in the blowing grass, kneeled down, and got back to work.

Luckily, the thorn sent the adrenaline you needed to finish the day out stronger than you had started. You worked through lunch, snacking on some fresh tomatoes instead, and worked the day away, eventually forgetting about the pain in your arm.

The evening brought in a cooler breeze, followed by the rumbling of Daryl’s bike outside the gate. He and Rick were back from their run, hopefully with some good supplies from Hilltop. 

You decided you would just meet him back at the house. The adrenaline was long gone by now and combined with a long day of work, you were beat. 

A few moments after you settled in the kitchen, the front door creaked open.

Despite the exhaustion, butterflies swarmed your belly. “Daryl?” You spoke out despite knowing it was him by the sound of his boots against the hardwood.

And then he walked in. He was sweaty from his own day of working and riding, but you skipped over to him anyways and planted a long kiss against his lips.

”Missed ya,” he mumbled

”I missed you,” you replied. “I brought some fresh stuff from the garden, it’s over—“

”Ya hurt yourself?”

You had forgotten and rolled up your sleeves, exposing the white cloth. You weren’t necessarily hiding it from him by any means, you just hated worrying him.

”It’s not a big deal,” you said. “Cut it on a thorn by accident.” But he was already standing next to you, examining it like if he stared long enough he could see the wound through the wrap. He worried his lip in his mouth, the look you knew all too well. He was getting nervous. “Baby, I’m okay, promise.”

He nodded his head once, still chewing on his bottom lip, but began rifling through the vegetables you had brought back with you to get his mind off things.

He didn’t ask anymore questions about it, continuing to pull out some fresh green beans and washing them in the sink before helping you start supper.

Your meal was quiet. The peaceful kind. The I-missed-you-all-day and need-to-relish-in-your-company kind. That is how it usually was with Daryl and you were always grateful for it. He never asked a million questions or breathed down your neck, he was just there when you needed him and when it mattered most.

After the two of you were done eating and washing the dishes, you trekked to your bedroom. As you were changing out of your clothes and into something a little more comfortable for sleep, he noticed a rusty color oozing from the gauze, sticking out against the white material.

”Hold up,” he said, grabbing your attention. “C’mere.”

He guided you gently into the bathroom, setting you against the counter. “I probably just moved wrong, reopened the wound.” But he didn’t care why, only how to stop it.

”Yeah,” was all he said, though it didn’t exactly sound like agreement. “Sit still.”

”You don’t gotta—“ but he already was.

His hands were rough and worn, but his touch was soft against your skin as he dabbed away the fresh blood and cleaned what had already dried. “Bleedin’ more than it should,” he said, watching as more dribbled out.

”It’s fine, Daryl.” Which earned you a look from him. A look you knew all too well. The one he gave you when you were being too stubborn for your own good.

When he got the bleeding mostly under control, he wrapped it again with a roll you had under the sink. Once he was done, he lingered a moment before pressing a brief kiss to the fresh bandage.

Your breath caught a little in your throat. “You’re sweet, you know.”

He huffed lightly, giving you another, gentler look. “Don’t start.” But still, his hand found yours as he pulled you back into the bedroom. “Get some sleep.”

You let him lead you back to bed where you found yourself snuggling under the covers with your back against his bare chest. You felt safe, at peace.

Still, in the morning you were met with the same grogginess.

And that is how you spent the next week.

You tried drinking more water.

Eating more of your vegetables.

Even going to bed a little earlier.

Nothing you did took away the same tired feeling you kept waking up to.

Eventually you chalked it up to your pillow. Or maybe your period was coming. 

You knew you should stay on top of it better, but when the world ends, your cycle was the least of your concerns.

This particular morning had been no different. You were used to it by this point, though that didn’t take away from how annoying the feeling was.

It was another garden duty day, so you grabbed your hat from the stand and went to your position by the plants.

Hours went by and sweat was streaking your back and beading down your temples. Daryl was on wall watch and you could see his back towards you as he looked out beyond the gates.

Even from a distance, his broad back was striking with his crossbow slung over his shoulder.

But you knew better than to let yourself get distracted again, no matter how easy it would be to get lost in him. You didn’t want to earn another trip to Siddiq.

You were digging through the soil barehanded when you felt a squirmy worm under your fingertips. This was normal of course, worms were good for the garden, and you had felt and seen them a hundred times. You pulled out your dirt caked hands to take a peek, but then the smell hit you. You had never been able to smell worms before, but it was a horrid, earthy smell.

The tightening happened first, right down in your stomach, followed by a wave of nausea that was all-consuming. Your hands became clammy and you got dizzy. 

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” you announced to anyone who was listening.

And then it all came up. Everything you had eaten for breakfast that morning spewed out of you and into the grass beside you.

After you were empty, you wiped your mouth and stood up, knowing where they would want you next.

On your walk, the nausea still hadn’t subsided. It didn’t make any sense. It was just a measly little worm. And you had never smelt them before, you didn’t even know they had a smell.

Siddiq was even more surprised to see you a second time.

”I’m starting to think you like it here,” he said as you were laying back in the bed with a cool rag on your forehead. You felt so weak, you couldn’t muster up anything besides a small smile. “It’s warm out there. And you’ve been pushing yourself. I’m thinking it’s just heat exhaustion starting to creep in. You’re done for the day and I’m serious this time. Go home and rest.”

It made sense. You probably were pushing yourself too hard. And it was an exceptionally hot day out.

The front door swung open. “What happened?” Asked a familiar voice. Daryl was standing in the doorway, heaving like he ran there from the gate. 

“I’m fine. Nothing really. Just got a little sick…”

”I told her it’s most likely heat exhaustion. She needs rest. I was actually about to just walk her home.”

”I got her,” Daryl mumbled. He walked over to where you were sitting up in the bed, lightly wrapping his hand around your arm to help you stand up. “C’mon.”

”I told you I’m fine, Daryl.” But he didn’t listen. His hand never left your arm as the two of you walked out and into the street.

Slowly, as the two of you made your way towards the house, his arm trailed down to your waist to steady you. You let him because even though you were too stubborn to say it, you were feeling so tired and weak.

The rest of the walk back was silent besides the sound of your footsteps against the pavement. You leaned into him, his warmth radiated off of him and crept into your chest where it found a home behind your ribcage.

When you made it back, he opened the door for you and ushered you inside, where it was much cooler.

You started to make your way into the kitchen when Daryl stopped you. “Sit.” You rolled your eyes a little, but didn’t put up a fight. You leaned back into the plush cushions with a soft exhale, breathing out and feeling relief. He disappeared for a moment and returned shortly after with a glass of water. “Drink.”

”You’re bossy today,” you replied, taking the cup.

He didn’t respond with words, only a small nod before walking off again to try and busy himself.

You didn’t mean to doze off, but the couch was so comfy and your ears were filled with the familiar sound of Daryl tinkering with stuff around the house, so you did anyway. 

And by the time you woke back up, the light inside had shifted. Dusk. “Daryl?” You called out.

”In here.” His voice came from the kitchen. Shortly after, you could smell steamed carrots wafting down the hall. You followed the scent and found your boyfriend leaned over the island, plating up supper on two separate plates. He nudged one in your direction. “Eat.”

You sat down on the stool and stared at the plate. It looked delicious. Daryl would be embarrassed if you had said it out loud, but he was a good cook. But no matter how appetizing it looked, your stomach wasn’t rumbling. In fact, it was doing quite the opposite.

You tried taking a couple of bites, but as you swallowed, it nearly came right back up. It had nothing to do with the taste either, it was perfect. But your stomach had closed up shop for the day and was not accepting anything else.

”You ain’t eatin’,” he said.

”I’m trying.” But try was all you could do, there was no use. You could not get anything down without feeling like you would throw it all right back up.

”Mm,” he grumbled. Not rude or harsh, never with you. He just hated seeing you sick.

”I’ll eat later.” You covered the food up and set it on the counter to try and eat later, but if this feeling didn’t go away, that would never happen.

He didn’t argue, but his worrying eyes lingered on you longer than usual.

That night, it got worse. You never made it around to finishing up your supper. And Daryl had insisted on you going to lay down even though you had already taken a nap, so by the time he had come to bed, you were already under the covers.

You woke in the middle of the night to the feeling of your stomach twisting in on itself. You sat up quickly, leaning forward, and grabbing ahold of your belly.

”Hey,” Daryl whispered. He sat up behind you and rubbed slow, sleepy circles on your back. “What’s the—“

But the sound of you retching cut him off. You barely had time to get to the edge of the bed, let alone stand up and make it to the bathroom. Vomit covered the front of your shirt and splattered into the ends of your hair. “Damn it,” you muttered under your breath.

”Shh, it’s okay.” Daryl was already standing in front of you, ready to help you stand up. “Easy, baby.”

You felt miserable. Tired, shaky, and now sticky. “I’m sorry. This is so gross.”

But he made no comment. He continued walking you into the bathroom and lit a few candles for light. He started the bathtub up before helping slip your soaked shirt over your head, careful to not make your hair even more of a mess.

The tub filled fast. Steam radiated off the surface and lingered into the air. “C’mere.” 

You stepped into the warm water and sat, covering your body with the water. Daryl took a cup and started scooping up water to wet your hair. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

”Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

But he sat on the edge of the tub anyway, sleeves rolled up, and got to work soaking your hair with the water before leaning over and grabbing your shampoo. He lathered the soap between his hands and reached for your scalp. His fingertips gently massaged as he worked the shampoo in. It was so heavenly, you almost moaned.

After he rinsed the shampoo out, he moved your wet hair out of your face and pressed a firm kiss to your forehead and then grabbed a rag to dampen. He started with your chest and worked his way down, scrubbing away your day with lavender soap and sending it right down the drain.

You wrapped yourself up tightly in the towel he grabbed from the closet, ready to just lay down and sleep. 

“This been happenin’ all week?”

”I didn’t get sick until today, but…yeah. I haven’t been feeling right.”

He started to worry his lip between his teeth. “I think we should go see Siddiq.”

”But Daryl, it’s the middle of the night,” you replied, ready to just go to bed.

”Somethin’ ain’t right,” he said, quieter now. “You ain’t gettin’ enough sleep, ain’t eatin’, gettin’ sick outta nowhere—“

”Daryl, I’m okay.”

He sighed. “Please.”

That did it. That was enough. “…Okay.”

The night air was cool against your damp hair. And outside you were met with the same quiet as inside. Everyone was in their beds sleeping, like you wished you could be doing. The walk was somehow even more quiet than the walk you had earlier. Daryl stayed just as close, maybe even closer.

Daryl knocked once on the door and waited for Siddiq to open it. He was a night owl, so you knew he would be up, but you still hated bothering him over something you knew was nothing.

”Hey,” he said upon opening the door. “Everything okay?”

”She got sick again,” Daryl answered.

”It’s nothing, I’m ok—“

”When?” Siddiq asked, already pulling you to sit on a bed.

”Maybe fifteen minutes ago,” Daryl said.

Siddiq nodded and started to look you over. “Still nauseous?”

”A little.”

”Dizzy?”

”Yeah.”

He hummed quietly, thinking over your answers. “Any fever?”

You shook your head. Daryl stood in the corner, watching and listening, never taking his eyes off of you.

”Appetites been off?” But before you could answer, Daryl chimed in.

”Ain’t been eatin’ right.”

”I’ve been trying—“

”I know, baby,” he said, softer.

Siddiq stood there a moment, pondering, letting things start to piece together in his mind. “Mood swings?”

Daryl huffed a laugh at that one.

”Maybe a little,” you replied.

”Any breast tenderness?”

”What does that have to do with anything?” You asked.

”Humor me.”

”Yeah, some.”

”When was your last period?”

“I don’t even— I…I don’t know. I thought I was just stressed.”

The room felt smaller. You started to panic, scared of what he was suggesting. Not ready to hear his thoughts. Daryl picked up on your mood shift immediately and found a spot next to you. “What’re ya sayin’?”

“He thinks I’m pregnant,” you sighed.

”I”m saying it is a possibility. With all of your symptoms, I… I think it is highly likely. I may have some tests in a cabinet. Expired for sure, but they’re only more likely for a false negative. A false positive on the other hand…”

Were you really about to take a pregnancy test? You had always dreamed of this moment, but never imagined it happening in the world you were living in. That dream had set sail a long time ago. The world was different now.

Siddiq left the room for a moment to dig around in the back for a test. Part of you hoped he wouldn’t have one and let you stew a little longer before officially finding out.

When he returned, he handed you a small white, plastic test. It felt too small to be the one thing telling you if your future was about to change. You went into the bathroom and Daryl stayed outside the door, ready if you needed him. 

“You okay?” He asked through the door.

”Yeah,” you replied. “…No.”

”I’m right here.”

Those three simple words helped more than you thought they would and when you walked back out of the door, the waiting began.

Five whole minutes. Which in this case, felt like a lifetime.

No one sat down. You were chomping your nails down while Daryl paced the room. Siddiq leaned against the counter, covering the test up with his body.

Four minutes. The two of you were restless. You already had your nails down to the quick.

Three minutes. You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself, like maybe if you squeezed tight enough you would wake up from this dream.

Two minutes. Daryl was still pacing, unable to stand still. He needed something to do with himself to pass the time.

One minute. It felt the longest out of all of them. Each second stretched longer than the last.

”If it’s negative?” You asked, breaking the silence.

”Then we reassess, but your symptoms didn’t come from nowhere. And a false negative is a possibility.”

”And if it’s positive?”

”It still isn’t going to be one hundred percent, but combined with your symptoms, I would say that would be accurate.”

Time.

Daryl stopped pacing and found his place next to you again, fingers intertwining with yours. Whatever happened, you knew the two of you were in it together, but that didn't diminish the racing in your heart.

”You check it,” you said to Siddiq who still had his back turned towards the test. He nodded once, understanding, and turned around. “Well?”

He faced the two of you then. Damn him and his poker face. He looked at you once and then to Daryl and back to you. “It’s positive.”

Feelings exploded in your chest. Excitement. Fear. Everything in between.

“Positive…” was all you could get out. Daryl’s grip around your hand became tighter.

”Like I said, it’s expired, but with your other symptoms, I’m pretty confident in its accuracy.”

Pregnant. Such a big word for an awful world.

You nodded. “…Oh.” Tears welled in your eyes. You were too scared to move. Daryl was too scared to move you, scared of shattering something fragile. “Hold me,” you whispered.

That was all it took for him to pull you into a hug. He rested his chin on your head and held you tightly to him as you shook against him. “Shh, it’s gonna be okay,” he said softly.

”How do you know?” You asked.

“I ain’t got it all figured out, but I know it will be.” He was always honest, especially with you.

”Okay,” you breathed against his chest.

”We’ll handle it, okay? Like always.”

You nodded and his hand found the back of your head, resting it there, holding you closer.

Siddiq watched for a moment before excusing himself, letting Daryl know he was stepping out with a subtle nod.

The two of you stayed like that a moment before deciding to head home and get some rest. Daryl’s hand never left yours once until you were both underneath the covers and his hand found its place against your waist, holding you closer than he ever had before.

You woke up the next morning, still feeling the same tired feeling you had been, but when you went to grab Daryl’s hand, you noticed his spot in the bed was empty. And the sun was higher in the sky than usual when you woke up.

Shit.

You were late for your chores. You scrambled together an outfit and ran out of the door, struggling to get on your other shoe and walk at the same time. 

When you reached the wall for guard duty, you noticed Daryl was standing in your spot. 

“What are you doing up there?” You called. 

“Coverin’ you,” he replied, like it was no big deal.

You climbed the ladder to stand behind him. “I got it.”

”I know,” he replied, but didn’t move from his spot.

”Daryl…”

”Just get some rest, you had a rough night. Please.”

”Fine.” But you weren’t happy about it. You stormed back to your house and slammed the door shut, laying down on the couch where you sat for the rest of the day. You felt useless. You knew everyone was supposed to pull their own weight and you weren’t which aggravated you.

The next day, the same thing happened. When your eyes slowly opened, the sun was shining high in the sky, maybe even higher than the day before. Exhaustion found you next as you rolled out of bed and got ready for the day.

You walked out into the street and to the garden where you saw Daryl kneeling in your spot. He was dirt covered and dripping sweat from pulling weeds with the sun beating down on him.

”You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mumbled to yourself.

You kneeled next to him and started pulling at the fresh tomatoes, plucking the ripe ones and setting them down in the woven basket sitting between you.

”Baby…” he trailed off, eyeing you like you were committing a crime by just doing your job. You tried to ignore him and continue working. If he wanted to be on garden duty, which he never was, then fine. But that wasn’t going to stop you.

He stared at you as he kept pulling vibrant red tomatoes from the vines when a sharp pain jolted in your side.

You seethed, taking in a quick breath, and grabbed a hold of your abdomen.

”You okay?” Daryl asked, already rushing to your side.

”I think so, it’s just—“ another pulling pain ached. “Fuck that hurts.”

”You’re done,” he said, starting to put his hands beneath you like he was going to carry you. 

“Daryl…” you started, but the pain had yet to subside. “Fine.”

He carried you all the way back to your house, up the stairs, and laid you in your bed. “You okay?” He asked again now that you were alone and settled in.

”I think so. The pain was awful, right here in my side.”

“Siddiq told me it’ll happen. It’s your body getting ready for a baby.”

All you could do was nod. You wanted so badly to work that day. You wanted to be stubborn and work through the pain, to not be lazy. But your bed was so comfy, the blanket so warm. You drifted off before Daryl even left the room.

You woke up later that evening to the sun being lower, your room darker. Daryl had to have been back by now. You slipped out of bed and slowly made your way down the steps when you heard voices — two voices to be exact.

You weren’t usually one to eavesdrop, especially on Daryl, but his words caught your attention and your body planted itself in place.

“—just don’t put her out there right now.”

Your brows furrowed, confusion running through your veins.

”She’s been doing her share, same as everyone else,” Rick said next.

”I know that.”

”Then what’s the issue?” Rick sounded even more confused than you felt.

A beat of silence followed, you knew Daryl was thinking. “Just give her somethin’ inside… or nothin’… for a bit.”

Your grip on the railing tightened, anger quickly replacing the confused feeling.

”That’s not really how this works. You know that.”

”I’ll cover her,” Daryl shot back. “Whatever she’s got. I’ll take it.”

Rick sighed. “Daryl—“

”I mean it. I got it.”

You could picture the scene without having to see it: Daryl with his arms crossed, jaw set, and standing like he had already decided this was happening, whether Rick liked it or not.

”She’s a part of this community, Daryl. Same as you. Same as me. I can’t just pull her off of jobs because you asked me to.”

Now Daryl sighed. “Ain’t just ‘cause I’m askin’.” You felt as your chest twisted, your stomach nearly lurched out of your throat. You knew this was all real, The two lines on that damned test all but confirmed it, but hearing Daryl tell someone else, Rick, this was entirely different. “She ain’t just her right now.”

His words were quiet, but they landed heavy, a cannon into the air.

Rick didn’t say anything, but you knew he was looking at Daryl in the way he always did when he needed him, they were brothers. Daryl didn’t have to say the words, he knew.

”You sure?”

”Test came back positive. Siddiq’s pretty sure.”

“Alright. That changes things.”

Daryl huffed faintly. “I know. She ain’t gonna like it.”

He was right, you weren’t going to like it. You hated he was going behind your back like this, pulling you out of work when all you wanted was to earn your place. 

“It’s still her call, Daryl.”

”And I’ll still take most of it.”

You couldn’t listen to any more of it. It was utter bullshit, talking about you like you had no say. At least Rick took your side somewhat.

But then there was a loud creak.

”Baby? Ya there?” You heard Daryl yell, but you hurried too quickly to your bedroom for him to catch you in the stairwell. 

It didn’t take long for him to be standing in your room though, chest lightly heaving like he ran after you.

”What the hell was that?” You said, turning to face him standing in the doorway. “You go to Rick? About me? I can make my own decisions, you know.”

”Was gonna talk to you.”

”When?” You shot back. “Afer you already decided for everything for me?”

He started to step closer, but you stepped back. “I ain’t decidin—“

”You asked him to take me off jobs, Daryl. I heard you.”

He stepped even further into the room, like he just needed to be closer to you. You hated how badly you wanted to be close to him too, especially when his soft blue eyes landed on you. 

Focus.

”You ain’t been feelin’ right,” he said, pulling you from your thoughts.

”That doesn’t mean I stop working! I have to earn my keep!”

”You can’t do that if you keep pushing yourself,” he replied lowly. He never raised his voice. He was always soft with you, even when you knew he was getting frustrated.

But that didn’t stop the annoyance in your voice, the anger seeping out of you. “I was fine until you started to hover over everything I do!”

”You threw up in the middle of the day.”

”And I was fine after! I am fine!”

Again, he took another step closer. “Baby…” he said softly.

That did it. His softness. Tears broke open like a floodgate.”I’m pregnant, Daryl. Not helpless.”

“I know.”

”Then… then why are you trying to control me! It’s my body. I know when I have had enough.”

”And if something ha—happens to you—“ he stopped. You looked up and saw tears welling in his eyes too. “Ain’t doin’ that.”

”Doing what?’ You asked, quieter now.

”Watchin’ someone I—“ he cut himself off. “Not again.”

All of the anger disappeared. “Daryl…”

But he kept going, like if he stopped now he wouldn’t be able to finish and he had more to say. “Ya think I don’t know you can handle yourself? I know that. Seen it.”

”Then why are you—“

”World’s already bad enough. Now you’re carryin’ somethin’ in it—“ but he couldn’t finish like he wanted to.

You ran to him, held him in your arms like you had been aching to since he walked in the door. You nuzzled your head against his chest, breathing him in, and letting him wash away your frustrations and worries.

”You still should’ve talked to me first,” you breathed against him.

”…Yeah.”

”Maybe I do need to take it a little easier. I-I’m just scared, okay?” 

His grip around you tightened and he rested his chin upon the crown of your head, running his hands up and down your back. “I know, baby girl, me too.” 

You let out a small breath, staying in place in the home he created for you in his arms.

After a moment of standing together, you felt him start to pull away, your body already missing his warmth. “Got somethin’ to show ya.”

He moved over to your dresser and opened the top drawer, rummaging through clothes until his hands landed on the thing he was looking for. 

When he pulled it out, you didn’t know what you were looking at. It was a rough, uneven piece of wood, but then you stepped closer. You could see it, the beginnings of a shape, the details were hardly carved in, but the shape was unmistakable. It was a small animal. A rabbit.

”Oh, Daryl…,” you started.

”Ain’t nearly done.”

”When did you—“

”…Other night.”

The night after.

He handed it to you and you closed your fingers gently around it, warmth radiating through your chest at the thought of him carving away at this piece of wood in his spare time. For your child.

This whole time you had been feeling sick, worried to death over this, he had been carving. He was thinking about something beyond just trying to make it to the next day.

He was thinking about this. About you. About a future.

Your thumb brushed over where you could tell the ears were going to go. The grooves were shallow and unfinished, but you loved it.

”It’s perfect,” you said.

He looked at you, standing there. You had no bump, no visual sign of pregnancy, but he felt it. He felt you, even from the gap between you. He saw you standing there holding the unfinished piece of wood and it felt real in a way it hadn’t before. “We’ll figure this out.”

His arms wrapped around you again, the rabbit still pressed in your palm, rough against your skin. It was something to hold on to.

”I know,” you replied.

And for the first time since that night, it didn’t sound like something you were trying to convince yourself of.

Tuesdays at the bar were always slow, with the only customers being a group of old men, a couple suicidal loners and the Dixon brothers. You could say the Dixon’s were all of those combined but over the years you had grown to like them - and compared to the other patrons the younger brother was pretty easy on the eyes. 

“Dos cervasas senorita” Merle smiled lewdly at you, leaning over the counter. 

“Coming right up.” You smile back, grabbing two beers from the fridge and cracking them open on the counter. “On the tab.” 

“Well thank you” He winked, walking over to a booth and whistling to his brother to follow. 

Merle had been hitting on you since the first minute of your job here, which wasn't a surprise given his general sleaziness. It was easy to shrug off from your place behind the bar, the real issue was stepping beyond it. He would frequently attempt to slap your behind, winking and using nicknames like “sugar tits” or “sweetheart” to request another beer. And sometimes after a particularly heavy night he would find any excuse to get behind the bar, or to follow you to your car. Which was why mace became a big part of your uniform. Just the threat would ease him off you with a “Hey now baby, take it easy huh?”. He’s just lucky the can is empty. 

Daryl on the other hand was always polite, running a hand through his hair every time he saw you. His bashfulness was sickeningly sweet and it had really rubbed off on you the last few years. You’d be damned if he ever found out. Though sometimes you found yourself longingly watching him as he leaned back into the booth, legs spread, boots tapping  the floor. You found yourself daydreaming about him too many times and, after a few too many … dreams, it was getting harder to look him in the eye - not that you ever would given his aversion to looking in your direction. 

Snapping out of your daydream was the demand for more booze from the guy at the bar. He slurred his words, banging his glass on the bartop. 

“Just coming geez.” You muttered, tightening your apron and walking over to him. “What would you- OH MY GOD!” The man hauled himself onto the bar, knocking over glasses as he crawled towards you, teeth gnashing. You push yourself backwards hitting your back off the cabinet behind and knocking a few glasses over. “Fuck!” You grab the mace can from your pocket pointing it in the assailant’s direction. He was now on top of the counter, moving towards you quickly.  

“St-stay back!” You shook the can wishing now that it wasn’t just an empty threat. The assailant drew closer and you sucked in your breath, closing your eyes. 

A gunshot rang out, hitting the assailant with a squelch. Slowly. you opened an eye, beholding the sight of the body before you, his blood splattered on the bar and your clothes. 

An involuntary sound came from your throat and you looked around to see Daryl holding a pistol. You locked eyes, his beautiful blue eyes stared deep into yours and a chill ran up your spine. Your hands shook and you slid down the bar to the ground, your stomach in knots. 

“What the fuck.” You whispered to yourself. You could hear the patrons talking in the background but your heartbeat stung in your ears, bile rising in your throat.

“Y’alright?” Came the voice of the familiar redneck. You could feel the vibrations from his boots hitting the floor. 

“Yeah im fucking super. Just fan-ta-” Suddenly that bile you had been pushing down came straight out, right next to the body in front of you, the sight alone pushed you to spew again, gagging and you shuffled your feet back away from it, “Oh god.” you wiped your face.

“Jesus boy get her out of there.” Merle said, which was maybe the most considerate thing you'd ever heard come out of his mouth. 

Daryl jumped up onto the bar, swung his legs over and offered you a hand, pulling you up and helping you mount the bar. He rubbed your back cautiously, his calloused fingers retracting the moment he felt skin.

“Thanks” you whispered, hopping off the bar and stumbling backwards. Unfortunately into Merle.

“If there were any time to use the mace sweet thang, that woulda been the time.” He joked, his hands drifting to your midriff. You stepped away. 

“I need to close up- we need to call the police-” 

“Woah now, no police.” Merle said, “My baby brother here just saved your life, you' re not gonna go an’ get him locked up now ain’t you?”

“N-no it was self defense-” You defended yourself. 

“Not the way the courts’ gonna see it sweet cheeks.” Merle said pointing to Daryl who was still sat on the bar, his pistol laying idly next to him. 

“What do we do?” You feel the panic rising in your body “He-he was crazy-” 

You were interrupted by banging at the door of the bar. You spun on your heel to face it.

“Oh what now.” You shouted, walking towards it as a man burst through, his arms reaching out to you. “Look sir, we’ve had an inciden- JESUS.” You screamed, catching sight of the man's jaw which seemed to be hanging on by a sliver of skin. It swung as he walked towards you, his milky white eyes flicking between you and Merle. 

“Aw hell.” Merle grunted, backing up toward the booth he came from. 

“Back up!” Daryl barked.

The command snapped through you before you even registered it, your feet stumbling backward as the man crashed into a table, knocking it sideways. Glass shattered. A man in the back bolted for the back door. 

“Shoot ‘im!” Merle shouted.

Daryl didn’t hesitate. Another gunshot cracked through the bar, deafening in the tight space. The man dropped but he didn’t stay down. His body twitched, fingers clawing against the floor as he dragged himself forward.

“What the actual ” you choked.

The second shot silenced him.For half a second, everything froze, then, a wet gagging sound. 

You turned your head quickly to see the man who’d ran out the door on his knees, blood dribbling from his mouth. 

“Oh no… no, no” You whispered 

He gurgled once more and launched at the nearest patron. 

Chairs scraped and the patrons shouted, pushing and shoving to get away. The old men didn’t stand a chance.

“Door!” someone yelled.

As if on cue, the front entrance shuddered under a heavy impact. Then another. Then several. Then the glass cracked.

“Oh, that ain’t good,” Merle muttered.

The banging grew louder, relentless. The crack grew larger as hands and faces slammed against it, blood spreading and spilling down the door. 

“Daryl.” Merle’s tone shifted, sharp now. “We gotta move.”

Daryl was already moving.

His hand closed around your arm - not rough, but firm enough to ground you.

“C’mon.”

You didn’t argue.

Thanks for reading <3