Trespassing (Daryl Dixon x OC)

A.M.

I wasn't going to make it. I knew that. I don't know if Daryl knew. Maybe he had hope. I wasn't making it home. I was going to die out here. So with a sigh, I nodded.

"Grab your bow and let's go," I said.

"Nah, we gotta get you home. I'll come back for it."

"Daryl Dixon, I swear to fucking God, grab your fucking crossbow before I shoot you in the goddamn foot and we both die out here." With a huff, he complied, shucking the weapon across his shoulder and picking me up. The movements caused sharp pains the shoot throughout my torso and I cried out and grunted. By now, blood was seeping through my fingers and running down my arm.

Daryl was going as fast as he could with my dead weight in his arms. It didn't help that he was an emotional mess, but it seemed to also give him motivation. I could feel myself growing weaker, the simple task of keeping pressure on my stomach becoming more of a challenge.

"I'm sorry," I muttered through tears. It was an apology for what happened, even though neither of us could have prevented it. An apology for leaving this world before him.

"Don't say that," he grunted, the same emotion in his tone. "We're gonna make it."

"You know I love you."

"Stop. We're gonna make it."

It hurt me to see him so dead-set on something I knew wasn't going to happen. I didn't want him to be in denial, it was going to make his grieving process that much harder.

"D, we aren't gonna make it," I forced out. My breaths were starting to become more shallow.

"We're gonna make it," he repeated. His motivational mantra.

"Daryl--"

"Stop!" he shouted, keeping his determined gaze in front of us. "I'm not leaving you. We're gonna make it. Now no matter what, don't you fall asleep on me, you understand?"

He knew. He knew I wasn't gonna make it back to Alexandria. My strength was diminishing by the minute. I'm sure he could feel it.

"I love you, Daryl."

"Belle, stop it."

"Please, just say it. Tell me you love me," I pleaded. "I'm scared, Daryl. Please, just...talk to me." He was trying his best to keep it together but his walls were slowly crumbling. "Please, just stop."

"I need to get you home. We're almost there."

"Daryl," I said, reaching my bloodied hand out to brush his cheek, "stop. Please...just hold me."

His feet slowly stopped and his head hung heavy as his tears flowed freely. Daryl sank to his knees, holding me just like he did after I was shot.

Dying in my husband's arms was something I wished to never experience. I've always wanted to die peacefully so neither of us could hurt. But I was bleeding out in my thirties, no children to bare my name and keep my legacy alive. The most I could count on was that I wasn't going to become a walking corpse nor would I be eaten by one.

"I love you, Daryl," I forced through the pain and sadness in my voice. My breaths were extremely heavy.

"I love you, too, Belle. More than anything."

My lips twitched into a smile. Well, the best one I could muster. I took a few more labored breaths before asking, "You know, don't you?"

"We're almost there. You're gonna make it." He didn't want to admit it.

"Daryl...do you know?"

"Yes, Belle, I know," he replied, completely spent and frustrated. Not admitting to it meant it may not happen. He knows you can't fight the inevitable.