Chapter 17 - The Illness
Emma woke in the darkness the next morning. She had been sleeping on her side with her curls free and tumbling all over the place from having been slept on damp. She felt Daryl's arm thrown over her hip. Emma moved slowly so as not to wake Daryl, who was snoring softly behind her, to get a better look at him. His face was half buried in his pillow. Several of Emma's curls were twisted around his face and neck. Daryl's left arm was under his pillow, but his right arm was draped comfortably over Emma's body. As she watched him sleeping next to her, she could hardly believe that taking the job on the Dixon farm a year before had led her into Daryl's bed.
After speaking with Rick, Emma had returned to the Grimes' farm to think everything over. She thought back on her past with Daryl, about her conversation with Rick, and Daryl's proposition on Andrea's front porch. Finally, Emma came to the realization that Daryl had been right when he said that he and Emma were cut from the same cloth. Emma thought maybe she had known it all along, but had been as stubborn as Daryl in refusing to admit it. So, Emma came to the only conclusion she could - she wanted to return to the Dixon farm.
Emma carefully slipped out from under Daryl's arm so that she could go out to the barn and get dressed. All of her things were still packed up in the carriage. Emma hadn't bothered unpacking anything because she hadn't been sure that Daryl would still want her to come back. Seeing as how she couldn't go outside nude, she went to the bureau and quietly searched through Daryl's clothes until she found a shirt of his that she could wear out to the barn. Emma pulled the shirt on as she crossed the room to the door. Skipper lifted his head from his place in front of the fire that had gone out hours before. When Emma opened the door to leave, Skipper got up and followed her outside.
After dressing in the barn, Emma headed up to Merle's house to cook breakfast before the work day would start.
0o0o0
Daryl rubbed his face in his pillow as he woke that morning. As he slowly woke, he realized that his right arm was on the bed. With a furrowed brow, he slowly searched the bed for Emma. As Daryl's search came up empty, he lifted his head from the pillow with a frown. Emma wasn't in bed. Daryl flipped over onto his back and looked around the room, but Emma was nowhere to be found. For a moment, Daryl was worried that it had all been a dream. He turned over onto his side again and scooted over to the opposite side of the bed. Daryl lowered his head to the pillow there and inhaled. Emma's floral scent filled his lungs. It hadn't been a dream. Emma had truly come home.
Satisfied, Daryl got up out of bed and washed up a little before getting dressed. As he was dressing, he caught sight of Emma's clothes on the floor. Memories of the night before played in Daryl's mind as he dressed for the day. He couldn't help but smile. Thinking of Emma made Daryl want to hurry up as he finished dressing. He thought he had come to know Emma pretty well. He figured she was at Merle's making breakfast.
Instead of entering through the front door, Daryl circled his brother's house and instead entered through the back door leading directly into the kitchen. As he opened the door, he saw Emma standing at the counter finishing the coffee. Most of her blonde curls were secured at the back of her head, but a couple were on the loose about her face and neck. She wore a button up, cream colored blouse. The sleeves were rolled to the elbow. A dark green skirt swung ever so slightly from side to side with her movement. There was nothing different about Emma's appearance that morning, but Daryl felt as though he was seeing her for the first time. He was struck by how beautiful she was, and by the notion that he wanted to slip an arm around her waist and press a kiss to the nape of her neck. As Daryl saw Merle watching him out of the corner of his eye, Daryl resisted the urge and instead took a seat at the table.
"Well..." Merle sighed, but the grin on his face didn't falter. "Emma told me she's come back for good."
"Mhmm." Daryl ran one hand along the corner of the table and nodded.
Emma turned around and poured Merle's coffee.
"Emma, the loft is yours if you'd be more comfortable there, but since Sam'll be staying at his own house with his wife, that leaves his bedroom upstairs vacant." Merle winked up at Emma. "You want to stay with old Merle?"
"All right, Merle, you've played your games long enough." Emma said as she finished pouring Merle's coffee.
"Shucks, Emma, you don't let me have any fun." Merle chuckled.
Daryl looked up at Emma as she began to pour his coffee. Subtly, he lifted one hand to the small of her back. Emma's eyes flickered up to meet Daryl's for a moment. As she looked back down to pay attention to what she was doing, the corners of her mouth turned up.
0o0o0
Everyone fell into a steady rhythm on the farm over the next few days. Emma woke and made Merle and Daryl breakfast before the three of them headed off to work. Emma returned to Merle's house to make lunch for everybody. At noontime, they all sat together on the porch. Emma would sit in one of the chairs while the brothers sat side by side on the steps. Then, there was more work to be done before supper. After dinner, Daryl would remain at Merle's house while Emma cleaned up the kitchen. He would either sit with his brother smoking his pipe in the living room, or he would stay seated at the table in the kitchen. When Emma was finished, she and Daryl would return home. It was a comfortable routine for both Daryl and Emma, but more importantly, it made them happy.
On Emma's fifth day back on the farm, a letter arrived from Sam. It stated that Amy's condition was not improving. If anything, it was worsening. On top of that, a few others from town had fallen ill. Lorna Hawkins was sick, so was Clarke, Ed Peletier, and a handful of children. Sam asked if Emma could return to town at Amy's request. Daryl insisted on accompanying Emma, leaving Merle to look after the farm in their absence.
Daryl and Emma packed up the carriage and started for town only an hour after receiving Sam's letter. They rode in silence, with Daryl leading the horses. Emma was crestfallen that Amy's condition wasn't improving. Sam's and Amy's future had looked so bright the day of their wedding. Since Emma had come back to the Dixon farm, she had been looking forward to Sam's return. She thought that her presence on the farm may help Amy to adjust to being away from her home, her family, and her friends. Emma had already begun planning out how she would go about teaching Amy the ways of the farm. She had envisioned the five of them sitting around the table at Merle's house eating supper together at the end of a hard day's work. Emma was sure Sam and Amy would want to start a family right away, and Emma felt that after caring for Carl and especially baby Judith, she would be well equipped to help Amy with a brand new baby. The tone of Sam's letter led Emma to believe that those things she had been dreaming up would never take place. Though Emma had not seen Amy to judge her condition herself, she got the distinct feeling from Sam's letter that Amy was dying.
It was noontime when Daryl and Emma arrived in Scarlet Town. Daryl rode to the reverend's house first. He pulled the horses to a stop and then hopped down from the carriage to assist Emma out of it. He reached up for her waist and gently swung her down after she had placed her hands upon his shoulders.
"I'll take our things to the inn, get us a room." Daryl told Emma, his hands still upon her waist.
"I'll be here." Emma replied solemnly.
Daryl knew he should have said more, but he was having difficulty coming up with any words. As Emma's hands slipped from his shoulders, he reluctantly let go of her waist. Before he could come up with anything to say, Emma was stepping around him and heading up to the house. Daryl watched her for a moment before he climbed back up into the carriage and was on his way.
Meanwhile, Emma made her way up the steps to the reverend's front door. She hesitated before knocking on the door. Emma thought back to caring for Hershel during the several months he had been sick before his death. She needed to be strong for the reverend, for Sam, but especially for Amy. Emma took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
The reverend answered the door a few moments after Emma knocked. There were dark circles under his eyes, but they were hidden well by his eyeglasses.
"Hello, Emma." The reverend greeted Emma with a pathetic smile. "Thank you for coming."
"Of course." Emma replied as the reverend stepped aside to let her into the house.
Emma couldn't believe that nearly a week before, Sam and Amy were married in the chapel just down the hall from where she stood. The energy within the house was so much different. Emma could feel a heaviness being draped around her shoulders as she stood in the foyer with the reverend.
"What has the doctor said, Reverend?" Emma asked after the reverend had closed the door.
"He doesn't know what ails my Amy." The reverend removed his eyeglasses and rubbed his nose. "At first, he was able to be here for several hours a day, but with the others in town becoming ill...he's been a very busy man."
"What are the symptoms?" Emma asked.
The reverend put his glasses back on and opened his eyes.
"At first, it was only fatigue and fever." The reverend explained slowly. "We thought the excitement of the wedding and reception had been too much for her to handle, but then..."
Emma could tell it was difficult for the reverend to talk about. She placed a hand on his back.
"Go on." Emma encouraged the reverend softly.
"She became unable to keep any food down, which weakened her even more so than before." The reverend sighed. "Then, the fits of anger and rage started-"
"Rage?" Emma asked, her brow furrowing.
"Amy would suddenly become very agitated and begin thrashing around in bed, or she would try to...she would try to...harm whomever was seated beside her bed." The reverend sighed. "I suppose it's a blessing that she has become too weak to become as angry as she did those first few days."
"And now?" Emma asked.
The reverend slowly shook his head.
"I sent Andrea to lie down in her old bedroom only a little while ago." The reverend rubbed the back of his neck. "Sam has barely left Amy's side. He's with her now."
Emma rubbed the reverend's back comfortingly.
"Why don't I go on up and see Amy, then I'll come back down and make everybody some coffee and something to eat?" Emma suggested.
"Amy will be happy to see you." The reverend replied simply.
The reverend excused himself to go and pray in the chapel. Emma headed upstairs to see Sam and Amy. She climbed the stairs quietly, not wanting to wake Andrea or Amy if one or either of them were asleep. When Emma got to Amy's door, she paused to listen for any sounds coming from within. Emma could hear two soft voices. So, she knocked quietly on the door.
Sam opened the door and when Emma saw him, her heart broke. His hair was disheveled and his face was stubbly and unshaven. The circles beneath Sam's eyes were much darker than the reverend's. Even though it had only been days since Emma had last seen Sam, he looked so many years older. Gone was that boyish light and energy that had surrounded him before. In the wake of his new wife's illness, Sam had truly become a man. Seeing Sam so somber and broken made Emma wish that she could do anything in her power to banish Amy's sickness in order to restore Sam's youth and happiness.
"Sam..." Emma murmured.
Emma reached out for Sam, who eagerly accepted her embrace. He buried his head into her shoulder. His stubble scratched against Emma's neck. Emma could sense that Sam wanted to weep, but she could also feel his body tensing against the temptation to cry on the shoulder of a dear friend. Sam was trying to be strong for his wife and her family. The tiny pieces of Emma's heart fell into her gut. They felt like needles poking at her insides.
When Sam finally let go of Emma, he motioned to Amy's bedroom.
"She wanted to see you." Sam muttered.
"Daryl should be here soon." Emma reassured Sam. "I'll sit with Amy if you want to go and wait for him downstairs."
Sam looked into Amy's bedroom, then back at Emma. He seemed hesitant to leave Amy, but after several moments, he nodded. Emma watched him descend the stairs before she pushed open Amy's bedroom door all of the way and went inside.
"Emma..." Amy's weak voice came from the bed as Emma closed the door.
Amy was as pale as the bed sheets. Emma could easily make out the veins on her face and in her neck and hands. Perspiration beaded Amy's hairline and her upper lip. All of her yellow hair had been braided into a single plait that tumbled over the covers. Amy's blue eyes were bloodshot. Several vessels in both eyes had broken. Her lips were chapped and were cracking as though she hadn't had a drink of water in days.
"Thank you...for coming..." Amy's voice was barely audible even as Emma sat down at her bedside.
"I would have come sooner had I known..." Emma left it at that.
"I know...but I had Sam...and Pa...and Andrea..." Amy replied quietly.
"Can I get you anything?" Emma asked.
Amy tried to shake her head, but she grimaced when she moved.
"Just lie still and rest." Emma murmured, reaching for a washcloth on the nightstand.
Emma gently wiped away the sweat on Amy's face and neck.
"Emma...I do...need something..." Amy's voice was barely louder than a whisper.
"What do you need, Amy?" Emma asked softly, leaning forward in her chair.
Amy turned her head to look Emma in the eyes.
"When...I die..." Amy cleared her throat and coughed. "Take care...of Sam..."
"Amy..."
Emma knew now having seen Amy for herself that she was dying, but she wasn't sure that she should let Amy know that she thought so. Then, Emma thought of Lori. Emma remembered her last conversation with Lori on Thanksgiving.
"I will." Emma finally answered Amy with a single nod.
0o0o0
Andrea curtly relieved Emma once she woke from her nap. Emma then went downstairs to make coffee and a late lunch for everyone. The reverend came out of the chapel to sit with Daryl and Sam, who were in the parlor room. Emma served the three men coffee and sandwiches as they sat together on the sofas. The reverend was trying to be optimistic. He brought up pleasant subjects and was able to manipulate his face into smiling every once in a while. Sam looked just as grim as he had when Emma had spoken with him upstairs. He didn't touch his coffee or his sandwich. Daryl was visibly uncomfortable with the entire situation. He sat on the edge of the sofa, tense and rigid, barely speaking.
"Reverend, do you think Clarke's family would mind if I went by to see him?" Emma asked.
The reverend's forehead became creased and wrinkled.
"Clarke's family?" The reverend asked. "Clarke has no family in town. He has a sister in Astoria, but she isn't here with him."
Emma thought of Amy's state, then imagined Clarke in the same position, only alone.
"Nobody is caring for him?" Emma asked.
"I don't know." The reverend replied with a sigh. "I've been so consumed with..."
It distressed Emma to know that Clarke was alone and probably dying, just like Amy. As she set down her cup of coffee, she made the decision to go to him. Amy didn't need Emma. She had her father, her sister, and her husband. Clarke had no one. He needed Emma.
"I'm going to Clarke." Emma announced as she got up from the sofa.
"What?" Daryl asked, piping up suddenly for the first time in a while.
"Emma...?" Sam looked up from the floor with a frown.
Emma looked over at the reverend, who had lifted his gaze.
"I care for Amy, but Clarke is alone." Emma ignored Daryl's and Sam's looks as she spoke to the reverend. "If he is as sick as Amy is..."
"You're right." The reverend agreed. "Go and be with him."
His was the only approval Emma was seeking. She turned and went to the door. As she opened the door, she heard a cup being set down violently and a pair of footsteps following her. Still, Emma left the house and started down the steps. She could walk to Clarke's from the reverend's house.
"Emma!" Daryl called after Emma as she walked.
Emma turned around as Daryl descended the stairs. His brow was furrowed and he was squinting at Emma as though he couldn't see her.
"What're you doing?" Daryl asked bewilderedly, throwing his arms out.
"I said where I was going." Emma answered simply, her hands on her hips.
Daryl's nose wrinkled up and his eyes narrowed in anger.
"Why're you going to be with Clarke?" Daryl asked, his tone changing. "Sam and Amy need you here with 'em. Anyways, you ain't even with Clarke..."
Emma scoffed and folded her arms over her chest.
"Is that what you're making this about?" Emma asked, lifting an incredulous eyebrow. "Knowing how ill Amy, Clarke, and all the others are, you're making this about us...about yourself?"
"That's not what I said." Daryl snapped angrily.
"Sam and Amy don't need me." Emma argued calmly, but sternly. "They have each other. They have the reverend, and Andrea, and you. Clarke has no one."
"Why the hell's that your concern?" Daryl retorted.
Emma took a step towards Daryl.
"Did my choosing to come back to the farm really mean nothing to you?" Emma asked.
Daryl's eyebrows came together in confusion.
"I didn't-"
"You still think I have romantic feelings for Clarke...even after everything we've been through..." Emma interrupted quietly as she shook her head. "You're selfish...and pathetic..."
Though Daryl's face had begun to soften, upon Emma uttering those last words, the anger he had been showing before reappeared suddenly.
"Well, go on then." Daryl growled.
Without another word, Daryl turned and stomped back to the reverend's house. Emma watched him slam the front door shut behind him before she continued on her own way. She couldn't think about Daryl. She needed to focus on taking care of Clarke.
0o0o0
Emma arrived at Clarke's and was able to gain access to his apartment by speaking with Clarke's boss, Evan Miller, who owned the office Clarke lived above. Emma had already prepared herself on the walk over. She remembered all she had had to do for Hershel when he was dying. She kept in mind all the information she had been given by the reverend so she knew what to expect. With all of that in mind, Emma slowly opened Clarke's apartment door. The first thing that struck Emma was the smell of the room. It smelled of sweat, heat, body odor, and human waste. Emma could feel her eyes watering as she breathed the foul smells in and out, but she entered the apartment all the same. Clarke was visibly sleeping. Emma could see his chest rising and falling as he breathed, so she knew he hadn't died, even if it smelled like he had. Emma didn't want to wake Clarke, so she silently moved around the apartment tidying up the place. She gathered dirty laundry, put away clean clothes she came across, wiped up and sometimes scrubbed away places where Clarke had vomited, and swept the floor. While Clarke was still sleeping, she slipped downstairs and asked Mr. Miller for a basin of boiling water. He obliged her request while she returned to Clarke's side. By the time Emma had returned, Clarke had woken.
"Emma...?" Clarke spoke with a raspy voice as he slowly lifted his head.
"Hello, Clarke." Emma greeted him warmly with a soothing tone and a smile.
As Emma started across the room for Clarke, he suddenly jolted. Emma stopped as Clarke began pulling at the sheets, arranging them and then rearranging them over his body. Emma slowly realized that Clarke was embarrassed.
"Clarke, it's all right." Emma reassured Clarke as she went to his side.
"You shouldn't..." Clarke was still struggling to cover himself as Emma stood beside him.
Emma reached for Clarke's hands to keep him from trying to cover up. His hands were clammy in hers, as usual, but for a different reason than before.
"Please don't be embarrassed." Emma murmured. "I'm here to help you rest and to make you comfortable."
Clarke scoffed and tried to laugh, but he mostly just coughed.
"You mean...you came to watch me...die..." Clarke argued.
"No." Emma shook her head and let go of Clarke's hands. "I mean exactly what I said."
Clarke didn't appear convinced, so Emma leaned down to his level. That got his attention.
"You said once before that I never beat around the bush with you." Emma said as she looked into Clarke's bloodshot eyes. "Do you really think I would start now?"
Clarke's features relaxed. Satisfied, Emma leaned away from Clarke just as there was a knock at the door. It was Mr. Miller with the water. He brought the basin in, spoke a few words of encouragement to Clarke, and then left. Emma rolled up her sleeves.
"Let's get you into a bath." Emma said as she rolled her sleeves to the elbow.
The humiliation Clarke had displayed before returned.
"Clarke, it will make you feel better." Emma told Clarke softly as she remembered how reluctant Hershel had been at first to allow Emma to bathe and wash him.
"I know..." Clarke replied quietly.
"Besides, I need to strip your bed so that I can put new sheets on for you."
Emma went to where Clarke lay and slowly helped him to sit up. She had him lean against her as she unbuttoned his pajama top and pulled it off of him. Then, she assisted him in standing up so that he could carefully shimmy out of his pajama bottoms. They were stained with sweat and waste. Emma tried to give off a comforting and reassuring energy as Clarke undressed in front of her. She only looked at him when it was absolutely necessary to ease his worry. When Clarke was naked, Emma guided him to the basin. She slowly lowered him into the hot water and left him to soak for several minutes while she stripped the soiled sheets off of the bed. Clarke watched Emma as she disposed of the dirty sheets and fetched a new set from the bureau. Once the bed was made up with fresh sheets, Emma returned to Clarke's side.
"Emma..." Clarke spoke as Emma began gently washing his hair. "Why...did you come?"
Emma scrubbed through Clarke's dark hair with care.
"I knew you were sick, and that nobody was here taking care of you." Emma replied.
Clarke laughed softly as Emma rinsed his hair.
"Pity..." Clarke mumbled with a sad smile.
"Empathy." Emma corrected Clarke as she moved onto his body. "Empathy for a friend."
When Clarke was clean, Emma got a clean towel. As she helped him stand, she could see his knees wobbling. Emma quickly wrapped the towel around Clarke's body just before he fainted. Emma was able to wrap her arms around Clarke's waist before he could fall into the basin or out of it and onto the floor. She lugged him out of the basin and dragged him across the floor to his bed. Emma checked Clarke's pulse before she dried him off. It was fast and thready. The beats reminded her of Hershel's just days before he passed away. Emma knew Clarke had very little time left. She gently dried him off from head to toe before she dressed him. Clarke came to as Emma was pulling a sheet up over him. He gasped suddenly, and tried to sit up, but Emma prevented him from doing so.
"I'm not dead." Clarke tried to shout, but he could barely raise his voice louder than he had been speaking before. "I'm...not dead."
Emma realized that the sight of her pulling a sheet up and over Clarke must have frightened him. Emma sat down on the edge of the bed and gently pulled Clarke up so that she could hold onto him.
"Shh. You're alive, Clarke. " Emma ran one hand up and down Clarke's back. "You're alive."
"I'm...not...dead..." Clarke rasped weakly against Emma's blouse.
"I know." Emma murmured, her hand holding Clarke's head to her chest.
"Emma..." Clarke mumbled.
The exertion of getting out of bed and becoming startled by Emma, in addition to the sound of her steady heartbeat and breathing under his ear, Clarke drifted off to sleep in Emma's arms. Once Clarke was asleep, Emma laid him back down. While he slept, she continued making the apartment look and smell nicer than it had before.
0o0o0
Clarke woke at dusk. Emma hadn't left his side since she had finished cleaning up around the apartment. She had pulled the chair over from Clarke's desk so that she could sit at his side. Emma gave Clarke several sips of water and held a dry piece of bread to his lips to nibble on. Minutes later, Clarke vomited it up. In his effort to avoid the clean bed, he leaned over to vomit on the floor. It ended up mostly all over Emma's skirt. Clarke felt so terribly that he worked himself up to tears. Emma could barely understand what Clarke was saying as he wept over soiling Emma's skirt.
"Clarke, it's okay." Emma reassured Clarke as she wiped up his face.
"...not...so sorry...skirt..." Clarke sobbed.
"Clarke, you need to calm down." Emma told him softly as she ran her fingers gently along his hairline. "It's only a skirt. It can be washed."
"...so much...deserve...go..."
"Clarke," Emma's tone became stern as she worried that Clarke would work himself up to the point of no return, "stop crying. You can't breathe normally if you're crying."
"...can't..."
"Yes you can." Emma argued as she sat down on the edge of the bed.
Clarke's cried quieted, but he was struggling to calm down. Suddenly, he began coughing. The coughing fit became so violent that Emma pulled Clarke up. She patted his back as he leaned against her trying to catch his breath. After several minutes, the coughing subsided. Emma gently laid Clarke back down as he began breathing normally again. She noticed that there was blood upon his lips. Emma quickly used the rag she had used to clean his face after he vomited to mop up the blood before Clarke could notice. The coughing fit was enough to put Clarke to sleep once again for several hours. Emma got up from the bed and took her seat in the chair at Clarke's side. She watched his chest periodically to make sure he was still breathing. As Emma sat by Clarke, she wondered how Amy was doing.
0o0o0
Clarke had woken twice during the night. The first time, he had to use the bathroom. Emma helped Clarke out of bed so that he could use the pot. The second time Clarke woke, he vomited. Emma was able to hold the pot up in enough time. Emma left Clarke's side long enough to take the pot out to the water pump outside. She emptied it, rinsed it out, and returned to the apartment. As she climbed the stairs to the apartment, she heard Clarke calling her name weakly. Emma rushed into the apartment.
"What is it, Clarke?" Emma asked as she opened the door.
"You left me..." Clarke muttered. "You left me..."
"I only left to-"
"You're nothing but a tramp." Clarke suddenly found the strength to speak up.
Emma was very taken aback by Clarke's words and his tone. She had never heard Clarke speak that way before, or in that tone of voice. Then, Emma remembered the reverend telling her about Amy's fits of anger. Emma realized that it was part of Clarke's illness that was driving him to speak to her in that way.
"Clarke, I'm not going anywhere." Emma reassured Clarke as she shut the door behind her.
Clarke laughed dryly, then coughed.
"You always leave me." Clarke replied.
Emma crossed the room to set the pot by Clarke's bedside.
"You need to..." Emma's words trailed off when Clarke suddenly grabbed one of her hands.
"You left me for that Dixon fellow." Clarke tried to yank Emma down to his level, but he was still weak and she was too strong for him. "You're nothing but a whore, Emma."
"That's enough, Clarke." Emma told him in a level tone. "You need to rest."
Clarke reached up with his other hand for a fistful of Emma's soil skirt.
"You don't even care, you whore." Clarke spat angrily, pulling on Emma's skirt as best as he could. "You don't care, you unfeeling trollop."
Emma peeled Clarke's damp hands off of her.
"Go to sleep." Emma ordered as gently as she could manage.
Clarke continued muttering hateful things and unflattering names until his voice gave out and he grew too tired to remain awake. Emma finally sat down in her chair when Clarke was asleep. She hoped that the words Amy might have said to her loved ones weren't as vile or poisonous.
0o0o0
The next morning, Clarke woke as sunlight filtered in through the windows. Emma had stayed awake all night. She hadn't gotten up from the chair once to relieve herself, or to eat, or to drink.
"You should...go..." Clarke told Emma as she used a wet washcloth to cool his feverish skin.
"Nonsense." Emma replied as she focused on bringing Clarke's fever down.
"Amy..."
"Amy has plenty of people at her side." Emma insisted, pressing the cloth to Clarke's neck. "Now, I don't want to keep discussing it. I'm not going anywhere."
Clarke didn't bring up Emma leaving again.
"Emma...I have something...for you..." Clarke said, changing the subject.
"What?" Emma asked.
"In the...desk drawer..." Clarke looked over at the desk. "Bottom...drawer..."
Emma turned her head to look at the desk Clarke was referring to.
"Please..."
Emma draped the washcloth over Clarke's throat before she got up to go to the desk. She bent down to open the bottom drawer.
"Wooden...box..." Clarke mumbled from behind Emma.
The wooden box Clarke was talking about was sitting in plain view. Emma took it out of the drawer.
"Bring it...here..." Clarke requested.
Emma took the box to Clarke, who tried to sit up.
"Stop." Emma commanded as she set the box on the nightstand and reached for Clarke.
Emma helped Clarke sit up against his pillows.
"Open...it..." Clarke told Emma with a soft smile.
Emma sat down in her chair before she picked up the box. She slowly opened the lid to reveal a ring. For a moment, she was confused by the ring, but then she remembered Clarke's proposal at the fall gathering. Emma's eyes flickered up from the open box to Clarke, who was already looking at her.
"Clarke-"
"I want...you to have it..." Clarke interrupted.
Emma looked back down at the ring. It was a thin, gold band with a barely visible stone. Emma took the ring out of the box to get a better look at it. In the rays of sunlight, she could see that the tiny dark stone was a sapphire. Emma experienced that same guilt she felt the day she turned Clarke's proposal down as she looked at the ring. She couldn't imagine how much Clarke had paid for the ring, or how long it had taken him to save up for it.
"It isn't much...but-"
"It's beautiful." Emma murmured, meeting Clarke's eyes as he smiled again.
"So...are you..." Clarke retorted before clearing his throat.
Emma reached out to lay one hand on Clarke's.
"You're a good man." Emma said softly, her fingers curling around Clarke's palm.
Clarke tried to grip Emma's hand, but he couldn't manage it well.
That was the last time Clarke and Emma spoke. Clarke fell asleep a few minutes after he had given the ring to Emma, and remained asleep for the remainder of the day. Emma knew Clarke wouldn't last much longer. He was growing weaker. Even still, Emma remained seated by Clarke's bed.
Sometime during the night, Clarke became restless. Though he was asleep, he tossed and turned in bed, kicking and flailing his arms. Emma knew Clarke was trying to fight it. He didn't want to give in. Emma did all she could to soothe Clarke, to let him know it was okay to let go. She shooshed him softly, stroked his hair, held one or both of his hands in hers. For hours, Clarke fought and mumbled Emma's name in his sleep. Emma continued to comfort Clarke as best as she could. Eventually, Clarke became still. He no longer thrashed around in bed. Emma checked his pulse. It was growing fainter. His breaths were shallower. Emma held Clarke's hand as he slowly slipped away from her. By the time the sun rose on Emma's third day at Clarke's side, he had taken his last breath.
Emma silently released Clarke's dry hand. She rose from her chair and started to pull the sheets over Clarke's lifeless body, but remembered how scared he had become that first day. Emma left the sheets where they lay. She needed to fetch the doctor and coroner. Before she left the apartment, she took the ring from the wooden box. Emma looked down at Clarke. She swept one hand across his forehead, then pocketed the ring.
Mr. Miller was approaching the door to the office as Emma was leaving.
"Ms. Thorne, how..." Mr. Miller started to ask how Clarke was doing, but Emma's physical appearance and expression answered his question.
"I'll be back." Emma muttered, shielding her eyes against the sunlight that had seemed to grow harsher within the past several moments.
Emma's vision blurred suddenly. She frowned and pressed one hand to her eye to see if she was crying. There were no tears in her eyes.
"Ms. Thorne...?"
Mr. Miller's voice was muffled as Emma took her fingers from her eye. She could feel her body swaying as her blurring vision gave way to darkness.
0o0o0
Daryl ran into a man walking down the street as he hurried towards Clarke's apartment. Without missing a step, Daryl's pace quickened as the man he had run into called out after him. Daryl was barely aware of the man shouting at him from behind. Daryl had been on his way to Clarke's apartment when he heard whispers about Emma Thorne fainting in the street. Terror had a hold on Daryl's heart as he swiftly made his way across town to Emma. The anger he had once held in her regard dissipated as Daryl's mind raced in time with his heart. Why had Emma fainted? Had she contracted Clarke's illness? As those questions circled on an infinite loop through Daryl's mind, he silently cursed himself for having left things the way he had with Emma. Even though he couldn't have prevented Emma from going to Clarke's side, Daryl still felt that he should have somehow been there when Emma fainted.
As Daryl came upon Clarke's street, he picked up his pace until he was practically running. Daryl bumped into several townspeople, but he didn't hesitate or pause to apologize. He needed to get to Emma and he couldn't seem to get there fast enough. Finally, Daryl could see the office Clarke lived above. Daryl skidded to a stop when he saw Emma sitting on a bench by the office door. An unknown man was sitting next to her. Almost as if Emma sensed Daryl nearby, she lifted her eyes. Daryl's and Emma's eyes met as Daryl stood across the street from where she sat. Seeing Emma sitting upright instead of sprawled out in the dirt sent waves of relief crashing over Daryl. Suddenly, he noticed that at some point during his journey from the reverend's house to where he stood, it had begun to rain.
Emma spoke to the unknown man before she got up from the bench. Daryl could see her better once she had come down off of the porch. Her blonde curls were pulled to one side of her body and secured by a ribbon, but the bow seemed to be coming loose. Her blouse was wrinkled and there was dried blood on the left shoulder. Her skirt was covered in dark, crusty stains. She was disheveled, to say the least.
Daryl suddenly sprang back into action as Emma came down off of the porch. He raced across the street to her, and even though their last words to each other had been unpleasant, Daryl didn't hesitate as he brought one hand up to Emma's face and laid the other upon her waist. Daryl could tell Emma hadn't been to sleep since she had gone to take care of Clarke. The deep shadows beneath her eyes told him so. It was no wonder Emma had fainted.
"Emma, are you all right?" Daryl asked, his voice coming out much huskier than he intended or anticipated.
Emma could hear the emotion plain as day in Daryl's voice.
"I'm fine." Emma answered quietly.
The drizzle picked up. As it rained harder, Daryl and Emma became soaked. Daryl wanted to get Emma out of the rain, but before he could tell her so, he watched the way her eyes had suddenly flickered closed. For a split second, Daryl feared Emma was going to faint again, but then he heard Emma sigh. She tilted her head back so that the rain fell upon her face. Daryl realized that the rain was offering Emma something she needed in that moment, whether it was its refreshing quality or something more. Whatever it was, Daryl didn't want to take that away from Emma. He remained with her in the middle of the street as it continued to rain down upon them.
After a while, Emma lowered her head and opened her eyes.
"Daryl..." Emma spoke softly as she reached out to lay one hand on Daryl's chest. "I shouldn't have called you selfish or pathetic-"
"You were right." Daryl interrupted Emma as he used his hand to sweep a section of wet hair from Emma's face before he laid his hand upon her face again. "I was being selfish and pathetic."
Daryl slipped his other hand around Emma and pressed his hand against the small of her back. Daryl slowly leaned down and met Emma's lips as she lifted her face to return his kiss. Emma pressed her hand harder against Daryl's chest and lifted her other hand to lay on his arm. As their kiss deepened, Daryl brought his other hand up from Emma's back so that he could hold her face between both hands. Drops of rain ran down their faces and fell into their mouths as their lips parted during all of their kissing. Daryl could have remained in the street, in the rain, kissing Emma, but he knew that she had been through a lot over the past three days. The dark circles under her eyes and the state of her clothes told the tragic story. Daryl's instinct to protect and care for Emma told him that he needed to take her to their room at the inn so that she could rest. The rest could wait.
Daryl offered Emma his arm and led her through the streets to the reverend's house. Emma started to pull him up the steps, but Daryl tugged back.
"You're no good to them now." Daryl told Emma, guiding her to where Jim was hitched to a post outside of the house. "You need to rest a while, then I'll bring you back."
Emma opened her mouth to protest, but she knew Daryl was right. Daryl held onto Emma's waist from behind as she mounted Jim. Once she was settled, Daryl took his place in front of her. Emma wrapped her arms around Daryl's waist before he led Jim towards the inn. During the ride, Daryl felt Emma lean her head against his back. The heaviness of her body against his led Daryl to suspect she had fallen asleep. Daryl kept one hand on Emma's hands around his waist to ensure she didn't fall from the saddle. It was only when he arrived at the inn and turned to look at Emma that he knew for sure she was asleep. Daryl carefully dismounted so as not to wake Emma, then quickly took care of Jim before he was able to gently pull Emma down from the saddle and into his arms. Emma's head lolled against Daryl's shoulder as he carried her into the inn and up the stairs to their room.
Daryl quietly opened and closed the bedroom door behind him. He carried Emma to the bed and, even though she was soaking wet, laid her in the bed. Daryl had wrapped Emma's arms around his neck when he had taken her from the saddle, and as he gently unwound them from his neck, Emma's grip suddenly strengthened. Daryl pulled away just enough to look down at Emma, who had woken and was staring up at him. Before Daryl could tell Emma to go back to sleep, she was leaning up and kissing him. Daryl knew Emma should sleep, but as she held him around the neck and kissed his lips, he felt for the first time that Emma needed him. Daryl liked it. So, selfishly, Daryl returned Emma's kisses and laid down on top of her. As they kissed and pulled off each other's wet clothes, Daryl thought it was for the best that he wait until after he had fulfilled Emma's needs and after she had slept to tell her that Amy had passed away that morning.
"Annabel" - The Duhks [Clarke dies/Daryl and Emma speak and kiss in the rain, Daryl and Emma make love]