The Alexandrians eventually jump themselves into stillness when no more corpses shamble their way. The morning sun rises alongside the slow realization they had succeeded. The light brings a unique serenity along with it. Everyone is exhausted. Corpses line the streets. But no more Alexandrians shed their blood that night.
They gather around Rick's house, where Carl had been moved. People are using bannisters to keep themselves upright. Some sit on the steps and stare off into nothing. Others huddle together, staying warm and awake in the brisk air. They wait for their leader came back down to talk. They hope for a day of rest, but resting isn't in the cards anymore in this world. Instead, they steel themselves for the efforts to come. They will rebuild.
Daryl comes out after Denise sews up his back. He glances around to the familiar faces and can honestly say he's happy. His friends and family had made it. They were safe so far. His mood changes abruptly when he doesn't see her. His hands start twitching at his sides, but before he freaks out, he walks up to Sasha, leaning on Abraham's shoulder. Daryl doesn't think he'd ever seen someone sleep standing up, but Abraham is.
"You see her?" Daryl asks softly and Sasha stares at him tiredly for a beat.
"Oh! Lupe? Yeah, she went to go try and find Barbacoa. No one has seen her since she saved Maggie, Glenn, and Enid by helping them get into the church." She nods in the direction of Lupe's house.
Daryl takes off without a second thought. Rick wanted them to stay together, but Daryl knows that to Lupe, that means Barbacoa too. He is more than pretty sure they got every last one of those infected fuckers, but he isn't about to let her out of his sight just yet. The night was fueled by pure adrenaline. He is barely on his feet. He can't fathom how she's faring after the Savior ordeal either. She might be feeling very alone, but it didn't mean she had to be. He moves as swiftly and as quickly as he can. The adrenaline might be fading, but he can't stand to be away from her for another minute.
The path to her house, lined with corpses, is a tricky walk. Chewing on his thumb, he's overwrought worrying about her. He'd jog but he didn't want to risk getting grabbed by a walker that might still be squirming. He has to pike a few more mangled assholes as he navigates through, but he was all more than happy to do it. They wanted this town cleansed and they'd make it happen. Something could rise from the ashes.
Daryl walks up to her porch and paces in front of the windows. She put up some opaque curtains when she moved in for privacy, so he can't see in. He tries knocking, but doesn't hear any response. Despite the tiny voice in his head saying she might be resting, the other voice was more pissed off and needed to make sure she was okay.
When there's still silence on the other side, Daryl just pushes his way through the front door. To hell with decorum. He searches the bottom floor and then heads upstairs. She occupies only one room and the others are all bare, so it's easy to check. When he peers into the back yard from her bedroom window, his nuts jump to his throat.
"Fuck!" He hisses and scrambles out of the room. Lupe's in the back yard, there's a walker on top of her, and another stumbling her way.
He skids down the stairs, nearly on his ass, and slides across the counter, kicking things off in the process to get to the back door in fewer steps. He pushes out onto the porch, jumps down the steps and onto the soft grass, rolling to get back on his feet. The walker stumbling towards her is the closest threat so he lunges and puts it down. Turning back, he sees a couple more walkers that are jammed up in the crawl space beneath the back porch. They start to turn, alerted to the humans' presence.
"You gonna get it or what?" Daryl shouts as they scramble towards him.
Lupe tangles with the walker on her. "Al—most — got — it!" she screeches. There's a squelching sound as Daryl leaps for the first of the undead up from the crawlspace biting at him.
"Get up!" he snarls.
"It landed on my knee bad! I can't right now!" she growls, her voice straining with pain.
Five walkers stalk towards Daryl, but he can't fight with Lupe right at his back. He needs space. He decides getting her safe is the priority. He turns and walks around her, hefting her up underneath her arm pits and pulling her across the grass, away from the undead. Walkers shamble after the two, but not as quickly as Daryl can pull.
Except one. That one seems fresher, lunging and hissing up a storm. As Daryl pulls, Lupe does her best not to scream with the pain in her leg. Daryl gets far enough and has a few feet of space between him and the fastest, while the other undead are barely keeping up. He leaves Lupe to squirm in silent agony and stands up to face the asshole causing him so much irritation.
As he raises his knife, a black blur comes tumbling out from underneath the porch. It skids around the group of undead before jumping and slamming into the back of the quick walker. The walker falls even too fast for Daryl to jump back, which is good tidings. Its skull cracks against his steel toed boots, splattering brain matter at his feet.
Barbacoa sits on the back of the quick walker and her body waggles furiously at the sight of Daryl. Lupe yelps slightly and Barbacoa instantly perks, shooting off of the corpse, making Daryl jump out of the way. Barbacoa scrambles desperately around Lupe, whining and wiggling and licking up a storm. Lupe squeals happily on the ground and tries to hug the blood-slick dog. Barbacoa doesn't look injured though, bright eyed and bushy tailed as all hell.
Daryl doesn't have the option to enjoy the sight for long. He turns back to the other walkers shambling over. There are four left. He's sure he can take them. Lupe and Barbacoa are in the line of fire. His exhaustion wisps away as he lunges.
Daryl got one in the head and then the black blur was back taking down another right next to him. His knife lands in another skull and he turns to see the hissing face of a walker mere inches away. He leans back and tries to twist his knife. The thing freezes and the snarling maw goes slack before its teeth met any of Daryl's skin. It slumps to the side with a black baton sticking out of its head guiding it back away from Daryl.
It thumps to the ground after Lupe dislodges her baton. She limps back a bit to give it space to fall and to steady herself despite her weak leg. Barbacoa's at her side and definitely in need of a bath. Lupe smiles with tears forming in her eyes and pets her dog generously despite her imbalance. She looks up and Daryl's staring at her, his chest huffing magnificently in the dawning sun. He's covered in sweat and gore still, but she has never seen such a gorgeous sight.
"Thank you," Lupe whimpers through her desperate tears. "Thank you so much. I needed to find her," her words come out rapid fire, "I needed to make sure she was okay or find her body so I could bury her right. I went into the house and didn't see her so I came into the back and walked right down the porch and those things didn't come for me, I didn't even see them! Then when I did, I got flanked by that asshole and it kept trying to rip my stomach open and I couldn't go through that again —,"
Daryl starts stalking towards her. His words hit like bullets, "Lupe I'm gonna need you to shut the fuck up so I can hold the shit out of you."
His arms spread open for her and she stutters through her tears, "Oh-okay…" She sniffles and rams her face into his chest. His arms slam around her like a vice and she shudders against him. He holds her there for what feels like forever and he'd keep holding her too. He didn't give a damn anymore. He'd only let her go when she wanted to walk away, and not a goddamn minute sooner. He just needed her safe, not because she was helpless, but because he wanted her to survive, he wanted her to have a future. He wanted the chance just to be in it with her.
She eventually shakes herself out and ends up slumped against him completely, but still wide awake. Barbacoa circles them happily, her tail wagging and flicking around bits of walker she chewed right up.
Lupe's voice is sudden and clear, "You ever think about why we get sick from their fluids, but she doesn't?"
Daryl nods. "Might not be transmissible that way. You know how we can catch shit from birds and pigs? Don't hear that about dogs really."
Lupe agrees vehemently into the warmth of his chest and he curls around her further. "I'm really glad you're okay," she murmurs into his skin.
"Fuckin' shit sweetheart, you scared the hell outta me," he rumbles.
Lupe doesn't exactly freeze in his arms, but the thoughts are rather disarming. Negan was a chum bucket of endearments. He'd use every sweet word in the book to condescend to anyone, but especially his wives. He loved nicknames and pet names and never shut the fuck up with the baby and doll and darlin'. But he hadn't ever called her sweetheart and Daryl did.
It felt so much different. It felt clean.