Summary: Let him live. Just let him live and do whatever you want with me. But let him live.
Warning: Content may be disturbing for certain readers.
Hey, everyone!
Ughh… I love this chapter, although I almost got sick writing it!
Hope you like it too!
Peta2: Thank you so much! We clearly share a brain you and I :)
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dark-hatake: I love your reviews so much, I'll start translate them and post them on the wall of my bedroom :) Seriously, I hope I deserve all this niceness!
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As always, I'll do my best to PM everyone :)
Thank you so much for reading, I'm grateful to you all. It is the first time I let people read my stories. I've been writing for years, but not even those closest to me were ever allowed to get anywhere close to my stories. My insecurity for writing in a foreign language had always been overwhelming. Your reception makes me feel great!
I apologize in advance for the angst that follows. It got so intense at some point I had trouble breathing.
The Walking Dead belong to Robert Kirkman and AMC. No copyright infringement intended.
Enjoy!
She was running like she had never run before in her life, almost flying, feet barely touching the ground. Her boots were slipping in the mud, but she didn't pay attention, slowing down wasn't an option for her. She was running like her life depended on that.
No like. Like was redundant. Her life depended on that, period.
She couldn't remember the reason they had such a big fight earlier. They sent off Tyreese and Sasha and stood by the prison fence for a while, enjoying each other's company; private moments were rare in the overcrowded prison. They were the only people in the yard at the moment, even the guard tower was empty. After the Governor disappeared, murdering his own men and most of the Woodbury survivors joined their group, a sense of normalcy and security had been restored. But they had let their guard down significantly, neglecting duty watch in daytime and rarely patrolling the perimeter anymore. Rick and Daryl couldn't be more displeased by this twist that seemed completely impossible a couple of months ago, but they couldn't do much about it.
Ever since she and Daryl had admitted their feelings and decided that they were together, every day had been a struggle for mutual compromise, for meeting each other half way. Surprisingly enough, though, no matter what happened during the day, nights always found her cradled in his arms, safe and sound. She loved him. And it was as plain as daylight that he loved her too, even if he never said the actual words. But their quarrels were frequent and heated. Daryl would lose his temper immediately growling hurtful things to her and Carol didn't tolerate being bullied anymore. That's how things went bad once more that morning, out of nowhere. She had mentioned something about going for a supply run with Maggie and Michonne without thinking twice about it and he snapped, spitting at her face that he was tired of her stubborn ass and couldn't care less if she got herself killed. Carol had put her foot down and stood her ground frowning and yelling back that she'd do her best to get bit so he could have it his way. She had then noticed his eyes narrowing, focusing somewhere in the distance between the pond and the forest, but when she followed his gaze she didn't see anything.
"Get the fuck off my back and tell Rick to get out here", he barked at her, opening the gate and walking purposefully towards the pond, crossbow hanging in his back. She was so furious he had bolted like that to go hunting or do whatever the hell it was he did every time he got angry that she couldn't control her trembling hands. Walking slowly her way back to compose herself, she never turned her head to check on him until she reached the prison entrance. And then her heart stopped at the sight.
Daryl had pinned a man she identified as Martinez on the ground, next to the pond, punching him in the face, when a huge black man whose name she didn't know surprised him from behind, striking him with a bat in the back of his head. Daryl was thrown off balance, reeling from the sharp blow.
A guttural cry escaped her lungs. "Rick! Rick!" and then she was running like crazy to him screaming his name as the two men dragged him in the pond and sank his head in the water. She didn't even bother securing the gate behind her, left it swinging aimlessly back and forth with a grim creaking as she sprinted downhill, snaking her way through some stray walkers. She was crying and panting, her chest clenched painfully as she watched his body jerking and kicking hopelessly under their stone grip, knowing she wouldn't be there in time. She was unarmed except from her small knife but she didn't care. When the black man turned to face her, stepping out of the pond, he didn't even bother to draw his revolver and just shoot her. A wry smile spread across his face as he obviously underestimated the threat this hysterical tiny woman could pose to him.
"You're too big", she had shrugged.
"What?"
"You're too big", she repeated. "No way I can outpower you."
"Size doesn't matter."
Carol immediately raised a brow, and shot him a teasing smile.
"No,no,no, don't go down this path now", Daryl lifted a hand, mentally scolding himself for opening that door to her . "We're practicing now."
She behaved, really curious how a petit figure like hers could stand against a well- built man.
"It's all about proper body posture and knowing the right moves…"
He kept showing her again and again. That night her body was stiff and covered with bruises, her rib sent stabbing pain with every breath, after a clumsy collision she had with his elbow, even if he tried his best not to hurt her.
It had taken her weeks of meticulous, scrupulous and often incredibly painful practice and then one day he had landed hard on his back, bursting into laughter at her childish gloating.
The image of him laughing whole-heartedly with her was engraved in her mind as she watched his body going still in the pond. The huge man was blocking her way. She twisted skillfully and buried her knife in the man's eye before he had the chance to blink, with a prowess that would make him proud if he could see her. Instantly she took a defensive stance ready to fight off Martinez who lunged at her, only to be stopped by a bullet jammed on his forehead, his body collapsing half ashore and half in the pond. Carol didn't even turn to see who had taken him out, stepped on his corpse and leapt in the freezing water.
Daryl was floating face down into the pond.
She vaguely recalled watching about it on TV, back when TVs were part of her battered, meek routine and not a distant memory almost irretrievably immersed into oblivion. Adrenaline rush, it was called. When human body releases adrenaline, the muscles perform respiration at an increased rate, therefore improving the strength of the person undergoing the adrenaline rush. The person in question is, thus, capable of superhuman physical strength, the performance of which is further magnified by the release of dopamine and endorphin which act as natural painkillers. That's what was happening to her, then, she thought, otherwise how could she explain the fact that knocking down a wall seemed to her like a piece of cake now? Or that she grabbed him from the armpits and turned him over like he was a feather before clasping her hands together around his chest and drag him to the shore with minor effort, completely unaware of the true weight she was carrying.
As soon as she laid him down on his back her fingers were palpating his carotid desperately searching for a pulse, terror creeping into her veins at the sight of his sealed eyes and slightly parted blue lips. The moment she felt her heart throbbing in her ears but nothing beating beneath her fingertips was the moment something inside her snapped. The world around her seized to exist, devoured in the bleak haze that precedes the looming havoc.
He deserved to be granted every fighting chance. She deserved to be granted every fighting chance for more time with him. Losing him was not an option. Daryl's death would be her personal equivalent to a nuclear disaster and she had already survived one when Sophia stumbled out of the barn. How many of these can one person overcome? Carol knew beyond any doubt that she had reached her limit.
Rick reached them immediately, breathing heavily, the riffle that killed Martinez hanging from his shoulder. Michonne, Maggie, Beth and Glenn were right behind him, taking out every approaching walker.
She started working on his lifeless body frantically, interlacing her fingers in the center of his sternum. Focused on transmitting every ounce of strength her body possessed into applying deep enough compressions to his chest, she made the ultimate attempt to manually pump blood into his heart in order to restore spontaneous blood circulation.
This was her punishment for Sophia, she knew it. For not fighting for her like a mother should have, for not even bringing herself to go to her funeral. Daryl had forgiven her, but whatever almighty, ruthless, vindictive deity was ruling their lives obviously hadn't. This time she wasn't giving up, though. Supernatural beings could go fuck themselves.
Rick's gaze drifted between the protagonists of the drama unraveling in front of him. His eyes stopped speculatively in Carol's figure and couldn't help but wonder if she had lost her mind and if this was how he looked like after Lori's death. She was sobbing, shifting all her weight on him, ragged breaths escaping her throat, brow furrowed in utter concentration, choking and mumbling unfathomable words, but painstakingly working on him with the sufficiency of a robot, never missing an inch, never wasting a second.
"Should we take him to daddy?" Maggie asked him wide-eyed, holding a weeping Beth in her arms.
Rick shook his head. Carol was doing everything that could be done for him.
The rapid-fire pace of her desperate efforts jumbled the events surrounding them. The center of her universe, the motionless figure of the man she loved under her hands, consumed every ounce of strength she had, demanding peremptorily her full attention and ostracizing everything else in light years distances. Unregistered movements of people hovering around them, distant gasps and whimpers, unrecognizable faces, hushed conversations, a blur; that was all the rest of the world was to her.
One, two… "Daryl!" Jesus, who was making these shrill wailing? They resembled more to howling wolves than real people. Seven, eight, nine… How long had he been there? Surely no more than a couple of minutes. This shouldn't be too long. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen… What if he already was in the transition process? What if she had lost him forever and he was about to turn into one of them under her hands? Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three… No,no, no, no. NO! He'd be just fine. She couldn't live without him. Thirty.
Bringing his head to the right position, she pressed his forehead upwards, tilted his chin and pinched his nose. First breath. Chest rises, chest falls. Second breath. Each time she blew air into his mouth, she could visualize one of her secret cat's lives conveying into his lifeless frame. Once she drew back to check his pulse, his head droop laxly on the side.
He was completely unresponsive.
"Do you want me to help you?" Rick asked. She moaned something more to herself than to him. Rick doubted she had heard him, doubted she was aware of all them standing around them. The sound of her desperate cries calling his name made his skin crawl, reminding him of the dying shrieks of a deer. She seemed completely spaced out, like arguing and negotiating with something invisible to the rest of them. He wondered absently what would happen to Carol if Daryl died, if they would be able to pull her back to them.
And Daryl was most probably already dead. The sight of him was completely unnerving, his limp body twitching, coordinated to the periodic strong compressions she forced on his chest, water overflowing from his mouth. Despite Carol's best efforts, Daryl gave no sign of response. Rick felt a lump swell in his chest. His best friend. He was losing his best friend. In that moment he didn't care for the skilled hunter, the badass crossbow-swinging warrior, the excellent shooter, the tracker, the fearless protector the group would be deprived of, he didn't ponder on how much weaker their rag tag family would be left after Daryl was gone; he just felt his heart breaking from pain at the thought of his best friend dying like that, of the woman next to him being left alone again.
One, two, three, four… Was this all, then? Would this be the way it would end for him? No way, Daryl was too strong to go like this. Everyone would bet he'd be the one to outlive them all. And it only made sense. Eleven, twelve, thirteen… But, after all, no matter how strong he was, he wasn't invincible, indestructible, some kind of real life superhero going incognito using dirt, sweat and blood instead of a costume. Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one… In the end of the day, he was just a man. Twenty-seven, twenty-eight… The man she loved. Thirty.
"We have to get her away from him", Michonne told him decisively.
"No yet", Rick rasped voice husky with emotion.
"It's too late. She'll be in danger any minute now. She's in no condition…"
"She'll be fine", Rick interrupted the woman abruptly, squinting at her, the double-edged meaning of his words hanging.
"Who do you want it to be?" Michonne asked him warily, her lips a thin line.
She was already holding her katana, fingers curled firmly around the hilt. Behind her, Glenn was checking the chamber of his gun, peering towards Daryl's body, looking defeated.
"I'll do it", Rick gritted his teeth and inhaled deeply, glassy-eyed. "I own him this much." He drew his gun from the holster and took a step closer to Carol and Daryl.
He had to protect her both from herself and from Daryl right now. She'd probably keep doing this forever, but none of them had so much time. Especially Daryl. They couldn't tell how long it'd be before he turned; sometimes it took hours, some others it was a matter of minutes. He had to get the job done and avoid thinking about it too much, otherwise his courage would abandon him. Daryl would never forgive him if he allowed the walker version of himself to hurt her, even if it wasn't really him. Carol was the one person in the world he'd protect at any cost, his life included, if it meant keeping her alive. And vice versa. That was how these two were, just like that. Rick should make sure he kept her safe for him, even if that meant that she would never forgive him.
She readjusted his head. First breath. Thick tears from her eyes dripping on him. Please, please, please. Second breath. Five lives left. Her lives had kept her alive for so long, but they were running out so fast now. They had to be enough to save him. They had to. She didn't even bother to check for a pulse any more.
Panic overwhelmed her. She kept breathing for him and kept forcing his heart to beat for him and she was failing. Everything around her was spinning violently, her head was light, a growing knot in the stomach made her nauseous. She was failing. Failing. The one time that failure was not an option.
Rick took another step, closing the distance between him and the unlikely couple on the ground. Carol blew air into Daryl's mouth and resumed the compressions, not casting Rick a glance, seeming completely oblivious of his nearby presence.
One, two, three… I love you. I love you. I love you. Don't leave me. "Daryl!" Nine, ten, eleven… What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do? "Daryl!" Come back to me. Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen… Daryl, Daryl, please. I don't believe in God anymore, I only believe in you. Please. Twenty-eight, twenty nine… I love you.
Rick felt his chin tremble. If only he could make these cries stop…
First breath. Jesus Christ, breathe! Come on! Second breath. I only have one more life to give you. Oh, God…
One, two, three… Oh, God…Take me, just take me. Spare his life and take mine instead. I don't know if you exist anymore, but if you hear me, take me. Ten, eleven, twelve… Let him live. Just let him live and do whatever you want with me. But let him live. Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one… Daryl, Daryl, please. Stay with me, please. Oh,God, spare his life, please. Please. Twenty-five, twenty-six… Do whatever you want with me. Let him live. Please. Let him live.
First breath. Daryl, breathe. Daryl! Take my life. Take it. It's the last one I have to give you. Just take it and live. Live.
She inhaled deeply to fill her lungs with oxygen for the second breath.
A finger jerked and she heard the sound of the gun's safety being removed.
To be continued…
NOBODY dies, don't worry.
Please don't hate me.
I couldn't really give a full Carol POV, because I wanted to portray her as unable to keep track of anything around her or of any rational thoughts. So I used Rick's perspective to shed light to her emotional turmoil. I hope it worked.
Thank you for reading :) Reviews are more than appreciated, as always.
I'll go cry my eyes out now.
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