I can't exactly tell you where this is going, yet... It'd ruin the suspense! Please review!
Morning came, and Rick had to give a remorseful smile. He was the farmer of the group, so he was out just as dawn came. Jamie hadn't left Daryl's side during the night, and was instead curled up beside him on the mattress, nuzzled into the safety of his chest.
Daryl had his arm with the non-injured hand slung protectively over her, and was asleep as well. He knelt down, feeling Daryl's forehead and recoiling. His fever was, if anything, higher than before. Maybe Jamie shouldn't have been sleeping around him. If he'd died during the night and turned...
He gently shook her shoulder. She moaned and her eyes fluttered open. "Rick?" she asked, sounding confused.
"Morning. Don't sleep near Daryl- it isn't safe, if he..."
"Oh. Right." Jamie said, wriggling out from under Daryl's arm and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, looking at Rick anxiously. "Any news?"
"None." Rick lied, Because knowing the fever was higher would just worry her more- Daryl was all the kid had. She'd find out the fever was higher on her own, though, soon enough...
"I told Carl to bring you out some breakfast." he said.
"Thanks." she brightened- Rick figured she was hungry, but really, she just wanted to see Carl...
"Keep your chin up." Rick said, and she gave the man a wane smile before turning back to Daryl, wet rag in hand. She picked at breakfast, spoke with Carl a little, but was silent the rest of the day.
Patrick, Carl, and some of the original group of them came to see how he was doing, but she was the only one that never left his side.
She spent the day feeling more helpless as his fever went higher, and he woke up less and less aware, to the point where she'd be forcing him to sit up so she could hold a cup to his lips and he could try and choke down the small portion that actually got into his mouth. He hardly spoke, and when he did, it didn't make sense.
She pretended to understand, though, as he slurred on about Cuban Cigars, the time he'd been bit by a Copper Head, and how Merle had beat the shit out of someone. She wanted to cry, though, because Daryl, her Daryl, seemed to be slipping further and further away.
Carol literally dragged Jamie to the fire, firmly leading the girl over by the hand so she could get a styrofoam bowl of baked beans for dinner that night.
As soon as she had food, she tried to walk back towards Daryl with it, but Carol caught her arm.
"Sit." she said firmly. "You haven't eaten all day."
And so Jamie grudgingly sat, but the whole time she ate, she was sifting through the smalltalk to hear if Daryl shifted position or mumbled something from where he laid, twenty feet away.
"Are you alright?" a voice asked. She looked over to see Lizzy's father looking at her sympathetically, the question hanging in the air.
She stared at the man coldly, and everyone looked at her, waiting for a response. Damn, she hated this, all the unwanted attention. Couldn't people mind their own business?
Her icy glare made some of the new people flinch, and she finally relented, going back to eating, saying nothing.
Lizzy's father looked confused, and Rick nodded. "She's fine." he said simply, wishing everyone would leave the poor girl alone.
Only those of the original group understood Jamie's ways at this point, she was in full red neck recluse, and didn't want to be bothered by anyone except those she knew best.
Glenn nodded towards her, looking sympathetic, and she lifted her chin slightly in his direction, acknowledging it.
Beth sat on a log a few feet away, far enough so she wasn't crowding her friend but close enough to be at hand if she was needed. Carl sat as close as he possibly could without looking suspicious, and most if the camp, for lack of better terms, was watching her carefully, expecting the girl to break down sobbing.
"What will you do if he dies?"
Everyone looked over to see Lizzy staring across the fire at Jamie, eyes inquisitive.
"Lizzy!" the girl's father scolded her sharply. Jamie looked up from under the chestnut bangs, that'd grown too long and overhung her face, using her fingers to brush it away.
"Put a bullet through his head. Make sure he don't come back." she muttered. Suddenly she wasn't hungry, and she wordlessly handed what was left of her portion to Beth, who wordlessly took it, looking at her friend with concern evident.
Jamie studied the fire, the dancing flames reflected in her eyes as she sat, lonesome. She wouldn't be weak, though. Dixons didn't cry.
"I think he's dead." Lizzy said calmly, nodding towards Daryl.
"Lizzy! Be quiet! What if it were our Dad?" Mika whispered loudly.
Jamie looked up, worried. Daryl's back was to her, he was facing the fence, she couldn't tell if he was breathing or not... Rick stood, a worried expression on his face, but Carol stopped him with a hand.
"No. Jamie said she'd do it- let her." she said firmly. If Jamie COULD do it, it'd prove she was ready to survive on her own. She didn't want Daryl to be dead, she hated the idea, actually, but if he was, it would be a good learning opportunity for Jamie.
Jamie stood, pulling the gun from her pocket, stepping forward. She stopped fifteen feet from the mattress, god, this was really happening... She was shaking like a leaf-thank god no one could see it from here.
She let out a shrill whistle, waiting. If Daryl were a walker, he'd turn, attracted to the noise. He might turn over to face her even if he WASN'T a walker... He rolled over, breaking out in a coughing fit.
"Jamie? That you?" he asked hoarsely. He was the most lucid he'd been all day, now, he could make out her blurry outline. He didn't see the gun, and she quickly pocketed it, stepping forward.
"Yeah, it's me, Dad." she said simply, kneeling down beside him. He forced himself up with his elbows, nearly passing out and feeling dizzy. In his fevered mind, though, he had to tell her something...
"Listen... whatever the fuck Merle was smoking... don't inhale when you're by him, n'kay?"
She nodded, both relieved he was alive and terrified he was talking about Merle, who'd been dead. Sometimes people near-death talked to dead loved ones, she'd heard...
"N' tell him not to smoke it around the baby..." Daryl laid back down, and Jamie, loyal as ever, laid down beside him. Daryl put his feverish, sweaty arm over her, keeping her close to him, keeping her safe. She drifted off with him, after hours of exhausting worry, simply praying he'd live through the night.