Sup reader! This is my first TWD fanfic and I'm pretty proud of it. May contain spoilers. Oh and I kept hershal alive. I don't own the walking dead. *Claps for Robert Kirkman*. Anyway I must warn all u Daryl Dixon fans that there is a reason that this is a tragedy! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!...Now please enjoy this oneshot. Pleeeease R&R ^_^

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I think I'm in shock or something. I don't feel any pain or anything actually. I can't see anything either. Either I've suddenly become blind or my eyes are closed. I squint letting light and color enter my eyes. Definitely not blind! My eyes quickly adjust. I try to move but for some reason I can't bring myself to. I'm laying on my stomach next to one of the picnic tables in the prison's courtyard. As I look out under the table I see I'm not the only one dying. He's choking on his own blood thanks to an arrow protruding from his chest. He locks eyes with me from his spot across the courtyard. Blood leaks from the corner of his mouth as he slowly bleeds outs on his side. We keep eye contact for what seems like hours until his body finally relaxes and his pointless attempts to breathe stop. But his only eye never closes and his one eye stare never falters.

In reality we were probably only staring at each other for 20 seconds tops, but the anticipation of watching him die made it seem so much longer. I try to move but I quickly regret it as pain tears at my chest and I suddenly realize it's hard to breathe.

Reality comes back. I can feel everything, see everything and hear everything. The sound of pounding boots and my name being screamed fill my ears. My head automatically turns towards the noise. However the warm substance on my cheek makes me freeze. I'm lying in a puddle of my own blood. Dixon blood. Dark red and leaking from where the governor's bullet had entered my unprotected chest. Blood that's now sprinkled on the concrete wall behind me. Blood all around me. I feel a warm hand on my cheek and others slowly rolling me onto my back. No matter how gentle their trying to be, it's not helping the pain or stopping the low moan from escaping my chapped lips.

It's dark again so I must have closed my eyes. I try to open my eyes but the lids feel so heavy. I'm only able to get them half opened. At first I can only see the brown ceiling of the wooden canopy but then I see faces. I see Glenn first, then Rick, then Maggie, Michonne, Tyreese, Bob, Hershal, everyone. A large hand pats my less bloody cheek, trying to encourage me to open my eyes. I guess they closed again.

"Open your eyes Daryl!"

"Come on now son, stay awake."

"Come on Daryl!"

I try to do what they say but I can't. I try to talk but there's only one word I'm barely able to get out.

"Sss…sor..ry." I'm sorry that I can't open my damn eyes. I'm sorry that I'm never going to again. I'm sorry that that's the only word I can say.

I'm shivering violently now but the pain is starting to fade away. I'm so tired and I just want to sleep. I… Damnit Hershal stop patting my cheek and let me sleep!

As if he heard my thoughts, the patting stopped. As did the voices. As did the noise. As did my heart.

"You done good baby brother, you done good."