Panacea - {Daryl Dixon Fanfiction}

Day 217 - Her Keeper

Merle didn't like the sound of that, but the nurse spoke up before him.

"What she needs now is rest. She needs time to regain her strength."

"Look," the Governor stepped in, "we could be a step closer to saving lives with this woman."

The nurse put a hand on her hip, not persuaded in the least bit. "If you put her body under any more stress, it'll be this woman's life that needs saving. Give her a couple of days."

"She needs to be monitored twenty-four seven. You can't do that, but Milton can." The Governor wasn't about to back down. Merle may have been playing puppet to this guy, but he was water, while she might as well have been blood.

"If you don't mind," Merle stood up with a crooked grin on his face, "I'll volunteer to look after her. After all I do know her. She was my brother's girl, so I feel it's my duty to take care of her." He hated to sound so sappy, but he meant it, and he wanted to keep Gabry as far from this man as possible.

The Governor looked at him, thinking it over. "I need you on the front lines."

"It won't be for a few days," He shrugged. "Just get Dexter here to fill in," He patted an unamused Milton on the shoulder.

The Governor chewed his lip, staring down Merle as if to challenge him before finally saying, "As soon as she wakes up, you bring her to me. I have some questions I'd like to ask her."

As did Merle. Like where had she been? What had happened to her? But most importantly, had she seen Daryl lately?

"Will do." Merle nodded.

* * *

He had carried her back to his room and laid her out across his bed. Any other time he would have been smitten, but at the moment he was concerned.
She was burning up, but it was freezing outside. Her lips were purple when they found her, but her forehead was covered in a thin sheet of sweat.

He sat next to her on the bed, and with his good hand he reached out and moved a strand of hair stuck to her cheek. He could count the freckles across her nose, number each eyelash, and he longed for her to open those eyes so he could count every shade of green. She still looked perfect, even when she was ill. Damn, if she wasn't a miracle of God, then He never existed.

"Gabry?" He muttered to her, half expecting her to wake up, but to his disappointment she remained still.

He wanted her to have been with Daryl, but maybe it was preferable if she hasn't been. Because if they had been together, where could he be now?

He stayed up for hours into the night, watching over her, pacing the floor or slumped impatiently in a chair. He'd wipe her forehead or her running nose, cover her or uncover her as he thought she needed, and at one point he held her hand.

He wasn't sure why. Maybe because it was something people did to comfort one another, or maybe because he wanted her to know he was there. But the real reason, that he hadn't thought of, was for himself; she was the last shred of a life he once knew, and if she was all that was going to be given to him, then by God he'd take it.

And he'd take care of her.

* * *
He hadn't realized he had fallen asleep until he was suddenly being woken up by coughing. He sat straight up in his chair as if he hadn't been asleep at all, and Gabry was sitting up in bed as well.
Merle rushed to the sink and ran her a glass of water, then returned to watch her gulp it down.

While she drank he wiped the back of her neck with a damp rag. She shivered, but she was sweating. Once she had emptied the glass she set I aside, and took a good long look at Merle. She reached out and laid a hand on his cheek, checking to make sure he was real. "Tell me that...that it was all a nightmare."