Disclaimer: Do not own The Walking Dead or any associated characters. Only what happens with them in my head.

Warnings: Language, Mentions of drugs

Authors Note:

–

Daryl sighed quietly as he watched the sun set through the window of the small room. Rosie had fallen asleep about an hour before, maybe longer he wasn't certain. She'd coughed here and there while she was sleeping but continued to rest on. He was exhausted and couldn't quite get himself to settle down long enough for sleep. Perhaps it was because he was worried that if he went to sleep he wouldn't wake back up. While Bob had told him when he'd peeked in half an hour ago that resting was good, Daryl couldn't help but to fight it.

He yawned silently, fighting to maintain consciousness. While he knew that he should sleep, he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Several people wandered around the halls but none had brought a report that the group had returned with meds. His paranoia was beginning to get the better of him about it, too. Daryl couldn't stop thinking about what Rosie had said before she'd fallen asleep about how half the people in this building were already dead.

She was right and the longer that they stayed there, the less chance that they had of making it out alive. The thought scared him more than he cared to admit aloud. His hands combed back through his hair, frowning at the dampness of it. He barely even noticed he was sweating until he touched his hair. He couldn't help but to wonder what Beth was doing and how she was doing. Was she pacing the floor in worry? Was she attempting to get some sleep? Was she staring out at the moon the same as him?

When the tears burned his eyes, he mentally cursed himself before rubbing them away. It hurt to think of the possibilities now. At first he'd been worried about what could happen to Beth when she gave birth because he was afraid she would die in the process. The idea of being like Rick and having to do it alone scared the hell out of him. The idea of losing both Beth and the baby was almost worse. Now he had to worry about whether or not he would even get to see his child. It was more terrifying than anything he could have thought about before now.

If he were to die in here and Beth were to die in labor, who would raise their child? Michonne? Rick? Both of them had too much responsibility already. Maggie and Glenn? Sure, both of them wanted a child but he didn't want his child to call someone else 'dad'. That realization rocked him harder than he ever would have realized. 'Please let me make it out of this,' he prayed silently, 'please let everything be alright.' Daryl knew that prayer didn't mean much, unless you were religious and you believed that prayer was going to someone. He'd never truly believed in God or a higher power. Things happened and that was the way it was, at least that had always been the way he'd seen things. Desperate times called for desperate measures, though. He knew that while it didn't mean too much, praying was a way to comfort oneself, to believe they were doing something to help their situation.

"Hey, you're still here." Rosie's weak voice pulled him from his thoughts. Turning his gaze up toward the girl, he nodded softly.

"Ain't much else to do." He replied and offered a gentle smile. The red-head smiled in return as she forced herself to sit up. She barely looked as though she would manage it, the girl looked so frail. He mentally cursed whatever had brought this on.

Rosie combed her fingers back through her hair, attempting to work some of the knots out of the curls. It didn't do much besides fluff it up but she still made the attempt. She was silent for a long time, looking over his pale face as he stared out the window at the moon. After a period she spoke again, her voice quieter than before. "If anyone makes it out of this.. I hope it's you."

His brows furrowed, unsure that he'd heard her right, as he looked back to her face. He didn't say anything in return, merely stared at her until she laughed silently. The action caused her to cough again, her hand quickly raising to cover her mouth. 'As if it matters much at this point.' He thought bitterly.

After a moment the girl straightened back up and looked at him again. "You've got a lot more going for you than half the people here." She told him now. "With Beth and the baby." When he looked away from her she frowned. "You must be pretty worried about them."

Daryl nodded and sighed again while staring at his lap. "I am." Fighting back the angry tears he shifted his gaze back to her pretty face. "But, 'ey, they're gonna be back soon wit' the meds, ya know? Ain't nothin' to worry 'bout." He stated with a forced smile.

Rosie laughed humorlessly and shook her head, "and you don't believe that for a second, do you?"

He felt silent now while staring at her. His silence was more than enough of an answer for the red-head and she nodded softly. She didn't much believe it either. If the girl was honest, truly honest, with herself the group would get back too late to do any real good. Swallowing hard she opted for a change of subject. "I'd kill for a joint right about now." When his brows rose up she chuckled silently. "It'd be nice to have a good high. Forget everything for a little while."

Daryl shook his head quickly, smirking slightly. "Unless that joints laced with somethin' you ain't forgettin' nothin'. I always thought too much." He countered. Sure, he'd smoked pot in his younger days. It was unavoidable when you were with Merle. At least he'd only ever smoked pot, never strayed toward the harder drugs like his brother had. It was better that way.

"Yeah, but at least you could find something to laugh at.." she murmured and sighed longingly.

He couldn't help but to laugh under his breath while shaking his head. She had a bit of a point there, as morbid as it was. Especially considering they would most likely be laughing at the dead. Then again, with the possibility of anyone turning at any time in here, it was better to be a little more aware. Both fell silent for a long time after the girl laid back on her cot and stared at the ceiling. Daryl had begun to wonder if she'd fallen asleep, though it took a small glance toward her face to see she wasn't.

"You're a good guy, Daryl," she said while turning onto her side, her green eyes dancing over his face. His shoulders rose and fell in a quick shrug as he watched the window as the moon continued to rise. "No, really. I can't tell you how many relationships I've seen get screwed up because of all this." Of course, she was talking about the state of their world, but there was more and he knew it.

"S'not like you really help." He murmured while looking back to her pointedly.

The girl actually laughed quietly, shaking her head. "No, not really. I flirt, I can't always stop myself, it just sort of happens. It's not always my fault when guys come to me. I'm not going to turn them down, it's not often enough you get laid anymore." She countered with a smirk. Rosie sort of reminded him of a womanizing man and the thought made him laugh silently.

"So why're you always comin' after me?" He asked, his dark eyes on her face.

A flirty smirk filled her lips as she stared back at him. "Does it make you uncomfortable, Dixon?"

"People around me more." He said, causing her brows to knit together in confusion. "Maggie, Beth. Ain't hard for 'em to think there's somethin' to it."

She frowned a little now, "did I get you in trouble with your old lady?"

Daryl shook his head lightly. While it irritated Beth, she knew that Daryl wouldn't go seeking Rosie out. Perhaps it was just because she knew how faithful he was to her, how much he loved her, but there was also the part of him that just took so long to get comfortable with someone else. Hell, he'd known Beth for over a year before there was any sort of physical contact. He didn't touch people or allow them to touch him without trusting them enough for it.

The red-head sighed inaudibly before reaching out to pat his knee lightly. "We make it out of this, I'll back off, okay? Most times I don't even realize I'm doing it until it's already said, really. But I promise, I'll keep my distance." She said, almost sadly.

Daryl frowned and shook his head, "ain't gotta keep away, just.."

"Watch what I say and avoid physical contact?" She finished the sentence in what she assumed would be his words.

Daryl laughed quietly and nodded. "I s'pose, yeah."

The girl appeared to think it through for a moment before holding out her hand, pinky extended. "Pinky promise," she stated, sounding almost like a little girl. When Daryl looked at her hand for a moment uncertainly she laughed, "what? You've never pinky promised before?" He shook his head slowly causing another laugh to fall from her lips. "Here, hold out your hand.. now your pinky," she instructed, fighting off more laughter. "Now.." she locked their pinkies together and shook their hands slightly before releasing him. "There. Solemn promise."

Daryl couldn't stop the soft laugh that fell from his lips before coughing once into his hand. That simple action caused all laughter to fade from both of their faces, reality coming back to the both of them sharply. The small little social bubble they'd put themselves into hadn't had room for the catastrophe around them, for those few moments the infection wasn't alive and invading their bodies. For those few moments they were just people, friends laughing about something silly. And then the world was back, everything horrid came crashing back into their minds.

Again, the two fell silent for a short time, listening to the rest of the world around them. From all over the building they could hear the coughs of others, some near silent while others were harsh. They could hear the muffled groans of a walker slowly animating itself, they could hear Bob and the few who still had enough energy to be up and around taking care of people.

And then Daryl could heard near silent sniffles. When he glanced to Rosie there were tears streaming from her eyes that she continually wiped at. As the girl caught him staring she frowned, more tears falling, "I don't want to die.." her voice cracked as she spoke, terror on her face. She stared at him until his face blurred with the tears that continued to build in her eyes, "I don't want to die, Daryl." She cried almost silently.

He frowned, carefully shifting a little closer to rub her arm comfortingly. "I know.." he murmured. Naturally he wished that there were more he could do, but there was nothing. Nothing at all. Unless those meds got here soon, everyone would go. The thought was terrifying and as he watched the red-head cry he desperately wanted to allow himself to break down too. He was afraid that if he allowed himself to break that it would be the beginning of his end. That was not something he could accept.

Daryl did the only thing he could do and gently massaged her arm and shoulder as she cried herself to sleep. There were no real words of comfort here, not anymore. The promise of medications was a bleak one, considering no one knew when the group would be back and if they'd even find anything of use. The promise of heaven wasn't much comfort either since most people had stopped believing once the dead began to walk the earth. There was nothing he could really say to make the girl feel better and in the end there was little he could say to himself.

–

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he heard the sounds, actually Daryl hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep. The last thing he remembered was comforting Rosie as she went to sleep and the next thing he knew his arms were folded on the cot beside her stomach with his head resting on top. A frown pulled on his lips as he tried to reorient himself to his surroundings and what the sound could have been.

Of course, he knew it was voices, a lot of shouting ones by the sound of it. Everything seemed muffled in his ears though and he frowned darkly as a hand rose to rub at the right side. He swallowed hard when he pulled his hand back and saw it covered in red. His shirt sleeve was covered, too, where his head had laid.

Fighting against the panic Daryl quickly used his sleeve to wipe at his ears until he could hear a little better, noting that most of the blood had dried and there was no more flowing. His gaze jumped to the red head, a dried trickle of blood ran from her nose down her cheek and onto the cot. Out of paranoia he reached out to check the pulse at her throat and when he was certain that he felt her heart beating beneath his fingertips he carefully pushed himself to his feet, wanting to investigate the shouting he'd heard.

It seemed to take forever to get himself up onto his feet since he felt so weak and drained out. Rubbing at his temple, which seemed to be pounding with the migraine that coursed through his skull, he walked out to the hall. The door toward the street was still closed, though a bright light filtered through the small window. Bright enough that he had to raise a hand to shield his eyes against it. With a frown on his lips he turned down the hall, following the sounds of the shouting.

"Get her on the cot." He heard Bob's voice. Great someone else was sick. As if it should have surprised him, or anyone else. "When did she drop?" Bob asked someone in the room. Daryl had been prepared to turn and head back to his own cot with another familiar voice stopped him.

"Yesterday afternoon, the coughing really got her this morning. We got back here as fast as we could."

"Maggie!?" Daryl breathed and quickly rushed toward the room. Moving as fast as he had caused his head to spin and he clutched at the door frame for support. He heard several gasps, probably from seeing him there, before his vision cleared enough to see the familiar faces in the room. Glenn, Maggie, Bob, Sasha–all of whom wore the medical masks and gloves to keep themselves protected–he assumed Michonne was with Rick. At least until his gaze lowered to the cot.

A set of familiar brown boots hung over the edge. Slowly, he stepped forward, looking up the slender frame, over the dirty skinny jeans and tan shirt to the dark skin. The dreadlocks that hung around her face and over the edge of the cot. "Aw no.." he shook his head quickly. If anyone was indestructible it was Michonne. Their warrior and samurai. She was tough, she could make it through anything. No damned virus would kill Michonne! It couldn't! His gaze snapped to Bob and Glenn, "well, what're you waitin' for!? Make the damn cure!" He shouted at them.

Glenn glanced toward Maggie before turning toward Daryl, "we don't know that we have enough for everyone." He murmured softly. This realization caused the redneck to gasp in worry and fear and heartache. They would now have to pick and choose who could get the vaccine, who could be healthy. His gaze turned down toward the unconscious woman wondering how they would make that choice. Who would be deemed good enough to receive it?

Daryl walked slowly toward the head of the cot, settling himself down onto the one beside it. "Standin' around talkin' about it ain't gettin' anyone better." He muttered while looking down at Michonne. Bob nodded softly in agreement before reaching out for the bag of medications. He ushered Sasha and Glenn to follow him since both had been there the last time when Hershel had made it and both would remember how to do it.

Maggie stayed behind for a moment, frowning softly behind her mask as she reached out to touch Daryl's shoulder. "I'm real sorry, Daryl.. I hope we can make this work." She whispered. When he nodded softly and continued to stare toward Michonne she turned and made her way out of the room to follow behind her husband.

He was silent for a long time, simply staring down at the woman's face as she slept. Once more he turned his gaze toward the window, looking out at the moonlit sky. He had to wonder if Beth were awake. What was the girl thinking about, what could her choices be here? With a heavy sigh he turned his attention back to the warrior, frowning when he saw the trickle of blood from her nose.

Daryl reached out and wiped it away with his shirt sleeve, the action causing the woman's eyes to snap open. When they landed on Daryl she smiled lightly as if she were waking from a horrid dream, but then as reality set in it slowly vanished. "You too?" She asked as she struggled to sit up. He quickly shifted to help her with a hand on her back so that she wouldn't fall over. After a moment he nodded in silence. "Beth okay?" She asked in worry as her gaze danced toward his face.

"I s'pose so. Ain't nobody told me any diff'r'nt." He stated and shrugged, hoping to god she was fine. "They said you passed out yest'rday."

Michonne frowned and rubbed at her temples for a moment. "Yeah, we found a store with a pharmacy. Everyone went in and started searching.. I just.. I felt like my head was splitting open so I leaned back against the wall to take a break. And the next thing I know Glenn's dropping me in the back of the van with the little meds they managed to find. We started flying back here. I really don't remember much." She sighed softly while rubbing at her head a bit more. She shifted to hang her legs over the side of the cot, their knees brushing now as she looked at him. "What about you?"

"This mornin' I guess. Las' night maybe. I worked the wall, helped Bob get rid'a the dead, went back to Gavin's an' crashed. Woke up and jus' couldn't get movin'. Made it to the wall an' dropped on Conrad I heard. Woke up here after." He rattled off and frowned darkly. This whole thing was more terrifying. They'd already lost so much. "Y'all didn't bring much back wit'cha either." He told her.

Michonne's brows crinkled together at this information and he had to bet that they hadn't told her about it on the trip back. If he knew the warrior like he believed he did, she probably would have forced them to leave her behind if she had known. Glenn probably knew this too, hence why they hadn't told her. "What do you mean there wasn't much?" She asked quietly.

A sigh fell heavily from his lips before shaking his head. "Glenn said there might not be enough for everyone." She sucked in a sharp breath in response to the words and tore her gaze away from his face. For the first time, probably ever, Daryl saw tears in her dark eyes.

She was quiet for a while as she contemplated everything in her head. As her gaze settled back onto his face a frown tugged the corners of her lips. "So, who gets it?" She wondered causing his head to shake slightly. They wouldn't know until the brainiacs had done the work to make everything.

Her hand rose to cover her mouth as a heavy cough racked her slender shoulders, seeing this made Daryl frown and sigh. When she pulled her hand away from her mouth to see the small clot of blood in her palm she sucked in a sharp breath of paranoia. Of course the warrior didn't want to die, no one did. That clot only made her believe that her fate was sealed. Everything was over. Her end was coming rapidly. She said nothing to the redneck and hoped he hadn't seen it as she quickly wiped it onto her jeans, leaving a dark stain.

Their eyes locked together for a moment before hearing another familiar voice in the hall. Brows furrowed Daryl carefully eased himself back off of the cot, Michonne following quickly behind, to make his way to the door. Conrad, masked and gloved, wandered quickly through the halls with a heavy brown backpack in his hands. He said nothing to either of them as he passed, merely nodded softly and continued on his way toward the back. Curiosity got to Michonne and Daryl and both trailed behind the blonde male.

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