Tonight the World Dies

It is silent in Deanna’s backyard, the aftermath sitting heavy on everyone’s mind. I am still on the ground, laying amongst terra cotta debris, potting soil, and broken plants. The new arrivals are Aaron, Daryl, and a third man I don’t recognize, but he knows Rick. Daryl and Aaron look a mess, and the hunter’s eyes shift to me on the ground. I can the flash of worry in his eyes at this distance and he flinches as if he’s going to move towards me.

Then Carol, who seems to be continuing to play her feeble woman game, cries out in relief, her face crumpling with fake, unshed tears, and she books it across the yard to hug Daryl tightly to her. I fight back an eye roll, glance quickly at the sad smiles on the faces of the Alexandrians, and attempt to stand up. Rick is still staring open-mouthed at the stranger who arrived with the recruiters, but the sound of my movement draws him back to me. He steps over the two bodies at his feet and takes me lightly by the underarms, hauling me to my feet. My body is sore all over, and my palms and face are stinging. Rick keeps an arm around me and prepares to lead me to the infirmary so that I can be looked at.

Carol has separated from Daryl but still stands close to him, her eyes narrowing when she looks over my face. I’m too tired and sore to deal with her, so I ignore it and the look Daryl gives me as Rick and I brush by them.

We’re halfway to the infirmary when Rick asks, “You gonna tell me who did that to your face?”

I sigh, knowing Rick isn’t going to let it go. “Nicholas. He caught me off-guard. Took off when that walker showed up.”

“We’ll deal with him. Are you all right?”

I wince. “My face hurts something awful but I’ll be fine. You think Deanna’s gonna change her mind about exiling you? After what she asked you to do?”

It’s Rick’s turn to sigh, and he drags a hand over his face. “I hope so. These people need help. There was no one on watch. If you and I hadn’t found that walker…”

“I know. Just so you know, if Deanna doesn’t change her mind, I’m with you. Can’t face this world without Rick Grimes.”

Rick smirks down at me and nods. He leads me up to the infirmary; lights are on in the building, and when we enter, Denise looks at us in confusion.

“What happened?” she asks, though neither Rick nor I answer. Instead, Rick sets me on one of the beds and moves back so Denise can examine me. “These face wounds are all superficial. Just need a couple bandages. These scrapes on your hands are a different story. A couple of them will need stitches. Unfortunately, I don’t have any anesthesia. We can’t spare it.” Her tone is apologetic.

“It’s fine,” I reply. “I can handle it.”

Denise purses her lips before nodding and gathering the necessary suturing supplies, as well as a basin of water and a washcloth. She also has a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, and I grimace in anticipation. Denise carefully cleans the wounds on my face with water first and then she douses the washcloth with the peroxide. A sharp sting in my cheek makes me grit my teeth but I stay still. She repeats the process on my hands and sits on a stool. Behind her, Rick has stemmed his hands on his hips.

“You can go, Rick. I know you’ve got a shit storm to settle,” I tell him quietly. He waits for a moment and then he nods. As he passes he lays a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. Then he’s gone and Denise gets to work on stitching my hands.

When she’s finished, she lays butterfly bandages on the cut on my cheek and binds my hands in gauze. Then I’m released and I make a hasty exit. Daryl is storming up the street when I step out onto the porch, and I meet him slowly on the walkway.

“What happened to you guys?” I ask him, wanting to put off any worry he may harbor for me just a little bit longer.

“Got stuck. Gotta talk to Rick in a bit,” he responds gruffly. Then, with a gentleness that should’ve surprised me but doesn’t, he grabs my chin in his hand and turns my head to assess the damage to my face. I know I’m bruised, and I wince when he runs his fingers over my swollen cheek. “The hell happened?”

I press my lips in a tight line. The worry in his voice makes my chest feel heavy, but warm, and it catches me off guard. His hand moves up from my chin and, much like the night before, he cups my cheek in his palm. His skin is warm and it relaxes me. I glance down at our feet before focusing my eyes somewhere behind his head. I can’t look him in the eye; the emotions no doubt swirling in their blue depths will no doubt unnerve me.

“Nicholas,” I say in a whisper. It’s unintentional, but I can’t bring myself to talk any louder. Daryl’s jaw clenches and his grip on my face tightens just a fraction before he lets me go. “I was on my way to the meeting and he blindsided me, held me up against a house. Hit me a few times.”

He inhales sharply, clearing trying to keep his anger in check. I smirk and tell him, “Don’t worry, I got my own shots in.”

“Never liked that weasel fuck,” he growls, and the sheer anger in his voice makes me back up a step. He sighs, having caught my movement, and reaches forward to sling an arm around my shoulder. “Come on.”

We walk like that down the street to my house and my thoughts travel back to the night before. I wonder how I’ve managed to find myself in eerily similar situations two nights in a row.

“Carol’s really playing up the ‘poor, helpless me’ act,” I remark, fighting to keep the bitterness out of my voice. By the sideways look Daryl sends me I know I’m not successful. But I keep on with, “Especially after she lifted a gun from the armory under Rick’s and your orders.”

“Needed to be prepared,” he replies defensively. “Tonight proved that.”

“And you don’t think they’re going to be looking at me when they figure out where he got the gun?” I retort.

“What’s it matter anyways?” he shoots back, his voice hard.

Why did it matter?

Daryl moves his arm from my shoulder, and I miss the contact. He takes a step away from me, putting distance between us as he continues, “Just three days ago you were as skeptical about this place as I was. Now all the sudden because Carol steals a gun you’re worried about these people trusting you?”

It sounds ridiculous when he puts it that way, but that isn’t all of it. I’ve finally decided to set aside my skepticism of others and give Alexandria a shot, a real shot. Having it known that one of ours stole from an armory I take inventory of everyday is like taking two giant steps backwards. I stay silent, my lips pressed tightly together, and glare at the sidewalk.

“Now ya giving me the silent treatment?” Daryl asks, quieter but still irritated. When I still don’t respond, he scoffs.

He walks me inside when we reach my house and he follows me upstairs. I’m not sure if he senses my need to talk, despite my earlier silence, but I’m grateful if he can read me as well as I think he can. Daryl seats himself on the end of my bed and I choose to sit on the side, leaving us back to back. I feel far more comfortable not having to look at his face.

“You told me we couldn’t do things without people anymore,” I start quietly. “I’m learning that. It’s taking me a little while to come to grips with it, I guess. But I’m seeing it now. This group has made me see it, you’ve made me see it. The aftermath of what happened tonight... I’m not mad because it was Carol who stole the gun, despite what you may think. I’m mad because it even happened at all. I get these people need our help, but in order for us to help them we need to trust each other. What does it tell them when they learn four people, if you count me, had a plan to raid the armory? Because they’ll already think I had something to do with it… Without me even realizing it I’ve already started thinking of this place as a home, and it downright scares me.

I’ve grown so used to keeping myself guarded that I’ve forgotten how to let people in, how to care about them and how to let them care about me. It’s a culture shock, in a way, I guess. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. In this world, having people to care for makes you vulnerable, and being vulnerable makes you weak.”

“Having people who care about ya means ya got someone watchin’ your ass,” comes Daryl’s quiet reply. I know he’s turned his head to look at me but I can’t bring myself to look back at him. “But yer right—I know where ya comin’ from, know how hard it is to just admit that ya care about these people. But ya ain’t alone, not anymore. Ya got people who trust you, rely on you, and care about you. It’s okay to let ya guard down, even if it’s just a little, like ya doin’ now. Slow and steady, ya know?”

The weight of his words makes me tremble and I drag a hand down my face, wincing as my stitches pull. I lean my elbows on my thighs and glare down at the gauze wrapped around my hands. The mattress shifts and Daryl is kneeling before me, much like he was that day Aiden died. And, like that day, he takes my once-again wounded hands in his. My scrapes from decking Nicholas that day are healing, turning purple as they fade. His calloused hands are gentle as the fingers brush over the gauze and I look up to meet his eyes. Their color stuns me; icy like the arctic, but when he’s angry they’re as dark as the sea in a storm. Right now, as he looks at me, they’re their usual pleasant blue.

“I’m scared, Daryl,” I admit, just above a whisper. One large hand tightens around both of mine, while the other reaches up to caress my cheek. Subconsciously, I lean into the touch, my eyes never leaving his despite the urge to look away.

“I know ya are. But ya got people here to help ya. Ya got me.”

Hesitantly, I pull my hands from his, and for a moment I see the fear of rejection in Daryl’s eyes. But it is assuaged when my hands come to rest on his face, and I bend forward to press our foreheads together. My eyes close as I fully weigh what’s been inhabiting the back of my mind since that day Daryl was last here. I open my eyes briefly and wait, trying to portray my intentions into my eyes. His gaze is unwavering, and he slides his hand from my cheek to the back of my neck to pull me down to him to close the distance. His lips meet mine softly, patiently, as if I’m going to back away. I nearly do; it’s been so long since I’ve shared such an intimate moment with someone that my instincts tell me to head for the hills.

But I don’t. I let my mouth meld against his and follow his lead. His fingers curl into my ponytail, pressing my head even closer. Before I can register it, I sigh into his mouth and my hands move to his shoulders. Since that day, I’d been denying to myself that I wanted this, wanted someone to care for me as Daryl so obviously does. I didn’t need anyone, but that’s not who I am anymore.

The way Daryl is kissing me sets a fire beneath my skin, a yearning that had long been doused but embers still remained. Daryl’s hand rests on my thigh and squeezes, as his other massages the back of my scalp, still trying to tug me closer. Through the muscles in his back I can tell he’s holding himself back, and the thought makes me smirk against his mouth. I press my fingertips into his back and shiver when he answers with a quiet growl. Before I can let myself go completely, I pull away from him slowly, keeping my eyes closed.

Daryl’s hand touches my face again, and I open my eyes to meet his. His eyes are dark now, but it’s not with anger. It’s with something else entirely, and I’d be stupid to deny that it gave me goosebumps. He gives me one of his rare, half-cocked smiles, and I find myself slowly returning it.

“Didn’t think ya’d go for that,” he tells me honestly, rubbing a hand over his beard. He glances away, over my shoulder for a moment, and I can see the change in his face, the hesitance. It’s in his eyes when he looks back at me. “Gotta warn ya, I ain’t…I ain’t good at this stuff.”

I tilt my head curiously. “What stuff? It sure as hell ain’t kissing. I think you’ve got that down.”

He blushes and tugs my ponytail. “Stop. I mean, this…this kinda stuff. Ain’t ever had a girlfriend…or…” I smile adoringly at him. His nervousness is so unlike anything I’ve seen from him so far, and I admit it’s endearing.

“I’m not exactly ready to go saying ‘I do’ myself,” I respond quietly. “And I know that I like you… But it’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything for anyone except mistrust. Let’s just take everything slow and we’ll figure this out together.”

Daryl chews on his lip, glances away again, and nods when he meets my eyes again. His gaze bounces over my shoulder. “’S gettin’ late.”

He starts to rise but stops when my hand shoots out to grasp his. He looks questioningly down at me, and I stumble over my words.

“Stay. Um, we don’t…not like that…just, um, I’d like it if you stayed,” I choke out in a rush. Daryl smirks down at me, enjoying my discomfort over asking him such a thing, and then it drops as he thinks. His lip is between his teeth again and his head bobs slowly. Relief floods me, and I nod back.

I rise from the bed and walk over to the dresser for a clean set of pajamas. Daryl is shucking his vest and boots when I leave the room, cross the hall to the bathroom. Once inside with the door closed, I drop the clothes on the edge of the sink and lean my bandaged hands against the counter, dropping my head between my shoulders. My lips tingle from our shared kiss, and my mind is coming up with all the scenarios in which this could all go wrong. Not to mention my sudden realization that I don’t want to be alone tonight.

I shake myself and quickly change into the pajama pants and short-sleeve shirt, my dirty clothes in a heap under my arm. I drop them in the laundry bin on the way out. Daryl is sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard. His hands are laced over his chest and he looks the picture of comfort. His eyes are closed, but when he hears me moving around to the other side of the bed, he opens them. A somewhat tense silence settles between us as I climb under the covers, settling on my side facing him. He scoots down the headboard and throws an arm behind his head, emphasizing the muscles in his arms. He chews on his thumbnail as he looks down at me.

“Thank you for staying,” I say quietly. I vote against telling him why I asked in the first place, and he doesn’t pester me. He only offers me a nod and I roll over away from him. I’m just about to drop into sleep when I feel him moving behind me, and carefully and tentatively, an arm is draped over my waist. He sighs deeply behind me, and with my eyes still closed, I smile into my pillow.