I Go Where You Go

The void seemed endless, black and bottomless. There was no end and no beginning. It just was. I didn't remember how I got here or why. I wasn't sleeping, at least I didn't think so, though I had no proof one way or the other. The only thing I knew for certain was I didn't dream. This place didn't allow for dreams. It didn't allow for much of anything at all.

I was surrounded by nothing, swallowed whole by its vastness. Being here felt somehow wrong though I had nothing to compare it to or any evidence to support the vague recollection. I didn't remember anything concrete before this. Still, there was something, instinct maybe, that told me I needed to leave this place, but I wasn't sure how. My gut screamed if I stayed I'd die, but living and dying had held no significance at the moment.

There was an ease here. It was almost peaceful. There was no pain, no despair, and most importantly no death. There was no good or bad. There was nothing, nothing except the cold and a pang of something that felt like loneliness. The crushing swath of emptiness sometimes made it difficult to breathe. I longed for something, someone, to ease the bereft feeling taking root in the depth of my soul. I could feel parts of myself withering, and there was a voice in the back of my head, a deep, rugged, soothing timber with a Southern twang that was always there. It told me to hold on, to fight, to come back to him. It told me I couldn't stay.

Sometimes I heard other voices, at least I think I did. Voices in the distance, so far away it felt hopeless to try and reach them. Everything was muffled, like I was swimming underwater in the cold depths of the ocean. I tried to kick for the surface, but the voices never got closer.

Suddenly there was an explosion of sound, so loud and visceral it was a shock to my system. A loud bang startled me and I wanted to retreat further into the dark where it was safe, but then I heard the voice. His voice. He was screaming loudly. He sounded desperate which made my chest ache for reasons I couldn't identify.

The voices had never felt this close before, like I could reach out and touch them if I just had the strength. There was a vague sense buried in the back of my mind that I needed to get closer to his voice. He was my reason to leave this place. He needed me and I needed him. I wanted to ease his suffering.

Frantically I kicked for the surface or what I hoped was the surface. There was no up, down, right, or left, only instinct. My body felt sluggish and unresponsive, but there was a subtle awareness returning, slowly and painfully. It brought with it the hope of something more, of him, and my heart started pounding in my chest. I saw a dim light above me and struggled towards it. The closer I got the brighter the light became until it was stinging my eyes and making my stomach swim with nausea but it wasn't darkness so I continued forward.

Out of nowhere came a memory, a memory of where I was supposed to be, of a time before this, of a man with eyes as blue as the sky on a cloudless day. The closer I get to the light the clearer the picture became, he was tall, rugged, with long hair that was always falling in his eyes. He looked at me like no one ever had, with love. When he looked at me I felt whole.

The darkness was reluctant to let me go, long, black tendrils wrapping around my ankle, attempting to pull me back down. I tried to scream for help, but I had no voice here. Something warm and solid grabbed my hand, squeezing, anchoring me to the distant shoreline. His fingers sliding between mine were a warm greeting in this desolate isolation. I knew his hands just like I knew his face. It was home. He was home.

With one final kick my head broke the thick surface, the shadows below me screeching in protest to my newfound freedom. The sound hurt my head, in fact, everything hurt and I moaned at the aching sting radiating through my entire body. My senses were in overdrive, bombarded with sounds and smells my brain was having difficulty processing.

"Red, baby, can ya hear me?"

I wanted to scream, I hear you, but I couldn't find my voice. My head burned with white hot agony, memories flying at warp speed as I searched for a name, gritting my teeth in frustration when it evaded me. It hurt. Everything hurt. It almost made me miss the darkness. With light came pain but nothing could survive in the dark.

"Get Siddiq."

That was a different voice, not the one I wanted, no, needed to hear. I tried to move, but my body was weak. All I managed to do was turn my head slightly, but even that felt like a monumental accomplishment. My neck ached, my bones sore, every breath, every quiver of muscle an excruciating reminder of a past still beyond my reach. The void reminded me of its promise, no pain, and for the briefest of moments I stopped struggling for the surface.

"Red, I'm here."

He was there. He was in the light, not the dark. I didn't care how bad it hurt I wanted to be with him. This place, this prison, wasn't home because he wasn't with me.

"Keep talking to her," the female voice stated.

Trying to process all the sounds coming at me at once was overwhelming. I needed to focus. The obscurity was still there, just below me, waiting for me to slip and fall back into its cold embrace. I didn't want to go back. I opened my mouth to tell him not to let me go, but all that came out was a pathetic croak, and the hand holding mine squeezed again.

"Take yur time. I ain't goin' nowhere."

Daryl.

My husband.

The name popped into my mind out of nowhere. He was the one holding my hand.

I could feel my fingers shaking, the bones in my hand sore as I curled them around the much larger ones holding me. I squeezed as hard as I could, my nails brushing against his familiar calloused skin.

"Hot damn," someone on my other side declared, relief evident in their tone.

Merle, my brother-in-law.

It was like a floodgate opened, memories and knowledge flowing in so fast it was difficult to keep up. I saw Rick injured and bleeding, walkers closing in around us then pursing us as I tried to keep the dying man alive, and a huge explosion that made my body feel like it might rip apart at the seams. The desperation from that day weighted heavy on my chest, and I struggled to suck in enough oxygen. I leaned closer to Daryl, trying to sort out the information bombarding me.

"D..." My throat was raw, my voice failing me, "D-d-aryl."

I was panting by the time I finished the one simple word. My lips were chapped and cracked. If it hurt this much to talk I was scared to imagine what would happen if I managed to open my eyes.

"Yeah Red, it's me. I'm here."

Concentrating I put every ounce of strength I possessed into cracking my eyes open. I couldn't remember anything ever being this hard.

"Where the hell is Siddiq?" Daryl bellowed, squeezing my hand in encouragement.

"On his way," Jesus answered immediately.

I wanted to jump and cheer that I was able to identify the voices, but I felt dizzy and tired. My mind was rebooting slowly, my body unable to follow the simplest of commands. I felt my eyelids flutter, a collective gasp accompanying the minor accomplishment.

My eyes stung and I blinked rapidly, trying to moisten them. I was breathing hard and licked my lips, trying again to find my voice. Suddenly a hand slipped underneath my head, lifting me slightly.

"Water," my husband said softly. He only allowed me a few tiny sips that blissfully coated my lips and throat before lying me down. My eyes were well and truly open now and I felt my panic increase tenfold. "It's a'right Red. Yur safe."

"I can't..."

This wasn't happening. It couldn't. I didn't fight my way out of the hell, again, only to find myself right back in it. For a second I thought it might have all been a dream, that I was still unconscious, still trapped, but I felt Daryl's hand in mine, solid and real. I squeezed it hard, trying to stifle my mounting panic.

Someone grabbed my other hand, and instantly I knew it was Merle. I tugged on it, trying to pull them both closer like it might somehow protect me from this new reality.

"Can't what baby?" Daryl asked, his fingers gently running through my hair.

I shook my head frantically, ignoring the headache that flared to life, my entire body trembling. I rolled onto my side, curling into myself. This wasn't happening because if it was then it was a death sentence. I didn't want to say it out loud because it felt like that would make it real, but as I stared at the spot my husband should be only to see nothing but a black blob I knew there was no avoiding it.

"I can't see," I mumbled, a single tear trailing down my cheek.

Daryl's hand brushed the tear away, his large hands cradling my face. "It's gonna be a'right."

I ignored the hitch in his voice that betrayed his statement. It had to be alright. The alternative was too terrifying. There was no way to survive this world without sight. None. The thought made me swallow back bile.

"It's not..." My thoughts were racing, all the terrible ways this would end coming like a tidal wave one right after the other. "I can't survive like this. You can't survive trying to take care of me like this. Oh my god...Maybe it's best if.."

"Stop."

I opened my mouth to protest, but when his lips touched mine the words died in the back of my scratchy throat. The kiss was short, meant to silence me as much as reassure me. When he pulled away I heard the door open, and dread pooled in belly.

"I heard someone finally decided to wake up," Sid greeted the room lightly.

"How...how long have I been out?"

Daryl's grip on my hand tightened. "Three days."

That was it? Three days? It felt like a year. It felt like a lifetime.

"How's Rick?" I braced myself for more bad news. The memories of that day may be fuzzy, but I remembered his blood with stark clarity. "Did he..."

"He's alive," Daryl assured me, "He's down the hall. He's gonna be fine."

I released the breath I didn't realize I was holding. "And the herd?"

"Them crispy sumbitches are probably somewhere in North Carolina by now," Merle laughed, patting my arm.

"So it worked?"

Daryl made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. It had worked, but the price of success had been high, mainly my vision.

"How about everyone except family clear out so I can have a look." I didn't hear anyone moving and could imagine the looks on their faces. We were all family. "OK, let me rephrase, everyone but Daryl scoot."

There was some grumbling, mainly from Merle, but a few minutes later it was noticeable quieter.

"So, Alex, how do you feel?"

"Like I'm blind and got blown up."

Sid chuckled. If he was worried about my lack of sight I couldn't detect it. "I'm going to shine a light in your eyes."

"Knock yourself out doc."

I didn't expect to see anything and I sure as hell didn't expect to feel anything. I was, after all, blind. I stared straight ahead at the black blob of absolute-fucking-lutely nothing, waiting. Then something exploded in my retina, and I almost passed out.

"Son of a bitch!" I slammed my eyes closed, recoiling from the light and trying to not throw up on myself. "What the hell was that?"

"A pen light."

Pen light my ass. It felt like someone shoved a spotlight into the center of my damn brain.

"What's that mean?" Daryl asked, his hand never leaving mine.

"Her pupils responded to the light so that's good." He busied himself putting a blood pressure cuff on my arm. "As I've told your husband, you suffered a brain injury. Essentially your brain is bruised and like any bruise it's going to swell. That swelling is almost certainly what's affecting your vision."

"Will it go away?"

"Most likely." He cleared his throat awkwardly and I knew I wasn't going to like what came next. "I'm not a neurosurgeon, but most of the books say your vision will return when the swelling subsides, probably."

"That's the kind of concrete data point I'm looking for Sid," I replied sarcastically, sinking further into my pillow.

"How long?"

Daryl sounded terrified, not that I could blame him. If I didn't get better I was as good as dead. Gabby managed OK with one eye, but there was a big difference between one eye and no eyes.

"A few days, maybe a week?" Translation, he had no fucking clue. "Aside from your concussion you suffered some superficial cuts and bruises and a sprained wrist. Clearly you can move your arms and legs which is a good thing. Given your proximity to the explosion you're lucky to even be alive." He removed the blood pressure cuff, listening to my heart and taking my pulse. "I've got you on a cocktail of antibiotics just to be on the safe side. I'm going to start you back on a restrictive diet, soup, juice, crackers. If you tolerate that we'll move on to solid foods. Right now what's most important is rest."

"I've been asleep for three days Sid."

He sighed and I could just imagine him rolling his eyes. It almost made the whole situation feel normal.

"Being unconscious is not the same as being asleep."

He was right. I felt utterly exhausted and all I'd done was have a pen light shoved in my eye. Clearly being in a coma wasn't anything remotely like sleep.

"I'll make sure she rests." Now it was me rolling my eyes.

Sid squeezed my hand. "I'm glad you're OK Alex."

"Thanks for saving me and Rick."

"I didn't save anyone, you did," he replied before leaving quietly.

Not being able to see made my other senses hyper aware. I could hear the murmur of voices in the hall, the sound of training outside our window, the gentle click of a door when it opened or closed, and the steady, rhythmic breathing of my husband. Even though I couldn't see him, just the general outline of him, I turned in his direction, wrapping both my hands around his.

"Katniss, I'm sorry..."

"Hey, none of that," he interrupted, kissing my forehead, "Watching ya...knowing that ya might not...it was one of the worst days of my life, but I know why ya did it." He sounded exhausted and frightened so his admission didn't exactly make me feel better. "Ya did what ya had to, for the group, that herd, it would'va blown thru Hilltop if ya hadn't..." he trailed off, unable to verbalize the explosion.

"I tried, I swear, but there was no other way."

"I know," he whispered, one hand letting go of mine. "I got something that belongs to ya."

I heard the rustle of his leather jacket and frowned. He held my left hand lightly in his, the feeling of cool metal grazing across my ring finger. What little composure I'd maintained since waking up vanished. My lips trembled, body quivering as tears fell freely.

"First time I put this on ya I told ya the hardest thing I ever done was walk away from ya." I sniffled, whishing so badly I could see him right now. "I was wrong." I heard him take a slow, deep breath. "Watchin' ya on that bridge when it exploded...knowin' I might never taste yur lips again or hear yur voice..." He was crying, his hand still holding the ring that was on my finger. "I thought I knew what Hell was, but I didn't know shit."

"Daryl..."

"Let me finish." I nodded, wiping my nose with my free hand. "Hell is a life without ya, without yur smile, yur sense of humor, yur heart." His hand covered my heart, head bent so our foreheads were touching. "Promise ya won't never leave me Red cause I ain't got the strength to live without ya."

I nodded emphatically, fumbling around until my fingers curled around his leather vest. I pulled him down, kissing his cheek, his eyes, his lips, him.

"I promise. I promise." I kept repeating the phrase, the two of us wrapped in each other's arms. "I love you so much Daryl Dixon."

He carefully moved me to the side of the bed, climbing in next to me. I turned on my side, lying my head on his chest with my arm over his waist. He tucked one arm under my head the other lightly brushing my shoulder.

"I'm scared," I admitted, "What if..."

"Shhh."

"Did you just shush me?" I asked, looking up at him with a frown.

He ignored the warning in my tone, hugging me closer. "Siddiq said yur eyesight would come back."

"He said it might. Might doesn't mean it will. Considering we're taking medical advice from a man who was trained by an Encyclopedia Britannica I'm not gonna take it to the bank."

"Have faith."

I snorted, "That's not really my forte."

I felt him shrug his shoulders. "Well then I'll just have to have faith enough for the both of us." OK, who was this person and what had he done with my cynical husband? "It don't matter. Where ya go, I go Red."

"This side or the other," I whispered, burrowing into him.

He pressed a light kiss to the top of my head, "Damn straight."


Hopefully everyone who was worried (upset) about her injuries feels better now. LOL

Until next time...