Find Your Purpose, Before It's Too Late

Chapter 11

Breathing a sigh of relief, you started to stand up when a decaying hand broke through the brush, grabbing at your shirt.

Things began to move in slow motion.

You tried to swing your hand with the knife across your body to stab the walker's head, but the sleeve of your shirt was caught on the fallen stump. Tara was above you, shouting your name while Tobin and Spencer seem to be frozen, watching in horror as the walker's face breaches the thicket, his mouth full of rotting teeth directed at the upper part of your thigh.

By the time Tara's gun was aimed and firing at the walker, the pain exploded in your leg and blood soaked your jeans as the undead corpse buried its teeth in your flesh. You screamed in pain just as the sound of the rifle bounced across the trees and exploded its brain in a million pieces.

The rest of it was fuzzy as you floated in and out of consciousness; the pain excruciating. You heard Tara calling your name, begging you to stay awake... almost home... hang in there... Daryl needs you....

When you woke again, you were in the infirmary. The pain was immediate, but there was also the heat. You felt the heat more than the pain. It started in your leg, and you could feel it spreading through every vein in your body. That was the moment you knew that death was coming.

The tears came then. You knew you had to get them out before you saw him for the last time. You cried for the time that was lost, the time that was wasted. As you closed your eyes, muffled voices started to fill the room. The last thought you had before passing out again was wondering how pissed Daryl was going to be at you for getting yourself bit.

Rick, Daryl and Abraham approached the gates of home tired and ready to call it a day. Leaving the car outside the gates, the three men entered only to be greeted with solemn, long faces. They shared a look of concern between them before Rick turned to Rosita and asked what happened.

"There was an incident..." she started, but Rick cut her off.

"Carl? Judith?" he asked in a panic.

"No, they're fine." Rosita cast her eyes to the ground.

"What then?" Rick asked, "someone hurt?"

Rosita didn't answer. She lifted her eyes and looked at Daryl with big, heartbroken eyes.

The moment he saw her expression, he knew.

"Where? Where is she?" He yelled at her, ready to run off in every direction.

"Infirmary... but Daryl, wait!" She called to him, but be was already gone sprinting across the courtyard and pushing his way through the infirmary door. She turned to Rick to tell him what Daryl didn't want to hear.

"She get bit?" Rick asked, rocking back on his boot heel. "Is it...I mean, can Denise..."

Rosita just shook her head, while Rick's whole body slumped forward, causing him to lean his hands on his knees for support.

Daryl stood over you, speechless. The fever had been burning for only a brief time, but he could already see that it was too late. The blood-soaked sheets and clothing were the signs he needed to know your fate; the fever was just confirmation.

He pulled up a stool and sat down next to the hospital bed. Taking your hand in his, he watched you sleep. Daryl was oblivious to the people coming in and out of the infirmary, until he felt a familiar hand rest on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Carol said, squeezing his arm. "I'm so, so sorry Daryl."

"Mhmm hmm," was all he could manage.

"She was lovely, stubborn..."

"Was? She ain't dead yet," he snarled back at her, shaking her hand off his shoulder.

"You loved her," Carol said matter-of-factly.

"Can you just go, please?" He didn't have the strength to look at her, and she knew it. Without another word Carol left her best friend to be alone with the woman he loved.

You felt your eyes flutter at the sound of a closing door. When you finally got your eyes to open, you saw Daryl sitting there holding your hand. Seeing you wake, he grabbed the water and guided the straw to your mouth.

"Easy," he said watching you drink with desperation. "Easy baby."

"I'm sorry," you choked out, your voice a ghost of itself.

"No, don't," He either couldn't or didn't want to hear it.

"Daryl," the pain ripped through your veins causing your temples to pulse with images of snarling teeth.

"Shh, don't talk. Just rest," he took the cool wet cloth Denise left and gently wiped your face with it.

"We shoulda stayed home in bed," you said, trying to smile. God how you needed to see his smile.

"Maybe next time you should listen to me." Daryl tried hard to give you what you needed, but his veil cracked, sadness oozing through in waves.

"I want to tell you, you've given me everything," you said squeezing his hand. "I'm sorry I have to go... I'm sorry I don't have more time with you. You gotta stay a bit longer..."

Between exhaustion and the fever, you could feel yourself starting to spiral. There wasn't much time left and you still had one last thing to do for Daryl.

"Y/N, stop... please," The sadness in his voice nearly broke your resolve from doing what you had to do.

You reached up your hand and ran it through his hair one last time. Brushing the strands from his face, you smiled, "Kiss me."

He did. Daryl leaned in and kissed your lips as gently as he ever did and even in your current state, the amount of love and passion you shared filled every inch of the room.

When you finally parted, you had one more request of him.

"Can you get Carol please? I need to say something to her." Daryl simply nodded as he went outside to retrieve Carol, you called out to him, "I love you, asshole."

Carol came back in alone, and for that you were grateful. The fever was moving fast as the infection raced through your veins. You didn't want to waste any of the last few moments, so the second she was within reach, you grabbed her hand with the little strength you had left.

"Listen, I know you have a gun. Give it to me," your eyes begging her to do so without question. "I won't let him be the one to do it."

She nodded in understanding and without a word she pulled a gun from the back of her pants.

"Do you want me to stay?" she asked.

You shook your head, tears burning down your cheeks.

"Make sure he's ok. He'll need you."

"Of course," she said and offered you a sad smile. "Thank you for what you've done for him Y/N, I'm sorry if I gave you a hard time."

"Don't be," you couldn't help but laugh. "You gotta be a tough bitch to love that man. That's how I know he'll be ok. He has you."

Carol nodded and turned to go.

Out on the porch Daryl was leaning over the railing, head buried in his hands. When he heard Carol come out, he stood up to go back in but she stopped him with a hand on his chest and one on his arm.

"Lemme go," he said, clearly strong enough to barge past her.

"No, Daryl... don't." Carol's eyes finally began to fill with tears when she saw the realization dawn over Daryl's face. He stopped fighting her for a moment, but it was enough of a moment for the gunshot from inside the infirmary to shatter the silence.

One look at Carol and he knew what she'd done; what she had helped you do. Rick was standing next to Daryl when his knees buckled and he slumped to the floor.

"I'm so sorry brother..." Rick said through his own well of emotions. He wrapped his best friend up in his arms and sat there as Daryl cried for his loss. One by one, the people that shared your home and table rallied around the man you loved as he tried to make peace with your death.