A/N: Thanks to all who have read and reviewed.
It was dark and cold. The type of cold that seeps into the skin and settles onto the bones. Carol had her eyes closed but she felt as though she was in one of those sensory deprivation tanks. She had no idea of time or location or whether she was alive or dead. Maybe this was a holding area for departed souls. She could not feel anything. Not in a bad way; her mind was forming thoughts and she felt like herself, but she had no idea where her body was.
Sounds echoed. It seemed as though she was eavesdropping upon a conversation from behind a door or wall. She strained to make out any words but she caught the noise of coughing and of objects being thrown around or dropped. She tried to speak but nothing happened. Then, she attempted to open her eyes. Nothing.
A cold object was pressed onto her already cold chest. It moved around after a few seconds. The impression she got was that the it was a stethoscope and therefore she must still be alive but unconscious in the quarantine section. She wanted to shout out that she was fine, but she'd lost the ability to do anything other than lay suspended in the icy waters of time, her mind scrabbling like a hamster on a wheel. She hated being helpless.
There was the sound of urgent commotion. What was happening? Then she felt the frozen fingers of unconsciousness take hold. She was going to be pulled under by it again. The fight in her subsided and she felt the waves of oblivion overcome her mind. All was black and silent and still. ~ The commotion had been the return of the runners. Daryl had hardly allowed their car to stop before he was opening the door, gathering his haul and heading for A Block.
"Rick!" he shouted as he reached the main door. "Hershel! Anybody?!"Rick appeared at the partition glass looking drawn. He motioned to the inner door which they had decided to lock when they took over the area for quarantine. Daryl tried the handle and opened that door.
"Ain't botherin' lockin' it up no more?" Daryl asked.
"Daryl," Rick started, his voice shaky, closing the door behind him, "There's, there's not much point." He regarded the floor and rubbed his forehead with his left thumb, his other hand resting on the gun holster around his waste. "It's bad. So bad. This virus moves so fast, and…"
"Is Carol ok?" demanded Daryl, cutting his friend off and studying him intensely.
Rick nodded wearily "Well, she's unconscious. She's breathing but it's touch and go. I'm sorry, man. We need to get the medicines in her and Glenn, now."
"Let's go do it then!" Daryl thrust the bag at his friend and went to make his way into the quarantined area.
Rick grabbed hold of his friend's arm "Hey. You can stay out here. Don't need to expose yourself to it. You don't have to go in there."
Daryl chewed at his lip."I ain't leavin' her in there alone a minute longer. Don't care what I catch." He shrugged, "Besides, Dixon's don't get sick."
Rick sighed, "Really, Daryl. We can't risk you."
Struggling to dampen his temper, Daryl replied, "We can't risk you, either." He was growing tired of Rick expecting everyone to follow his rules, but breaking them himself.
"I had to go in there, I had no choice, people were falling down with it left and right, I had to get them in there."
Daryl spread his hands and pulled his arm from Rick's grasp, "I don't got a choice, neither." With that, he stepped into the quarantine bay, waiting for his friend to follow him. Rick shook his head and followed.
"Where is she?" asked Daryl, his eyes roaming the area. "What about Glenn?"
Rick pointed to a cell on the right, "Carol is in 3, Glenn's in 4. Put them across from each other." He took a breath, "I had to force Maggie to stay out of here, she's observing the more vulnerable over in the admin building and checkin' that fence."
Daryl nodded, saying nothing.
"I've been going out, checking how things are regularly," Rick explained. "Need to get this lot up to the docs." He gestured to the bag, then said quietly, "We've lost a few people."
"Who?" asked Daryl, frowning. He wanted to go check on Glenn before sitting with Carol a while.
Rick closed his eyes for a second, "Beth. Some older Woodbury folk."
"Beth?" Daryl was shocked.
"She fell ill just after you guys left. I had to bring her in here after she passed out. Just as I got her in here to be looked at, Glenn and Carol took turns for the worse and they've been out of it since." Rick cleared his throat, "Beth couldn't fight it. Hershel tried his damned hardest and Caleb tried too, but she just wasn't able to hang on. Hershel is devastated."
"What about Maggie?" asked Daryl after a moment of sombre silence, the gravity of the situation settling around him.
Rick looked down guiltily, "We haven't told her yet. Figured she was worried enough about Glenn who hasn't improved for over 24 hours now. If she knew about Beth, she'd be in here. And we decided we'd try to manage this thing so that no more council members were at risk." He tilted his head to Daryl, "That plan's gone to shit now."
"World's gone to shit, Rick. I'm gonna go see Glenn and Carol now. I'll pay my respects to Hershel too. But ya can't stop me from being here, you know that."
Rick nodded, knowing it was useless to push the matter, "Hershel is upstairs. Caleb isn't so good himself. We'll sort this lot out and come down to work on Glenn and Carol."
Daryl nodded and set off toward cell four. Glenn was laid on the bed, sleeping, or so it appeared. An oxygen mask lay on a table beside him and his clothes had been stripped down to his underwear. "Stay strong, short round." Daryl muttered before turning to leave.
At three, he took a deep breath before entering.
She lay on her back, her grey hair spiked around her head. She looked peaceful, although her face was ashen, her lips, usually pulled up in that curved smile of hers, the one that made his stomach contort, were bloodless. Her breathing sounded laboured and her chest rattled. Maybe if she were in a hospital, she'd have been wired up to beeping machines. Laying on top of the covers, she had the same vest and shorts on as the last time he had seen her.
Daryl inhaled another deep breath. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but he had half hoped that his presence alone might bring her round. Slight panic rising, he swiped his hair out of his eyes and exhaled, making his way to the bed. There was a chair next to the bed, so he sat down and took her hand.
"Hey," he whispered, "Its me, it's Pookie. I'm home." He took another deep breath and blew it out slowly. He wasn't sure what he should do. Should he talk to her? Could she hear him?
He realised he was totally helpless. Outside in the prison and out on runs, others looked to him for strength and to fight with them, for them. Right now, he couldn't fight for the one person he treasured most, she who he was closest to. What use was he to her then? He could protect her from the dead, the living, from the horrors of this life now but all of that was useless at that moment.
He laced his fingers with hers. Her hand was lifeless, floppy, and ice cold. He put his other hand to her forehead and almost jerked it back from the heat. What now? He pulled her hand up to his own forehead, their fingers still intertwined, his eyes closed. "Come on, woman. Fight. Don't give up." He felt the sting of tears as he whispered those words. "We need you. Hell, I need you. Carol," he hardly ever addressed her by her name; he felt odd saying it to her. He always called her, 'Hey,' or 'woman' but he had never said her own name to her.
"Don't leave us. Don't leave me. I can't do this without ya here," Daryl looked at her. She remained inanimate on the bed, the only sound that rattle in her chest and slow rasping breaths.
He would have prayed if he thought they wouldn't go unanswered, but after Sophia, they all realised God could a deaf ear at times of great despair, not that he was a believer. Daryl leaned over in his chair, kissed her burning cheek. He could hear movement and voices from outside. "Please. I-I think I'm fallin' for ya," he whispered, close to her burning ear, though the words were barely loud enough to be considered such. He remained in that position for a few minutes, watching her rattling chest rise and fall.
He stood as Rick appeared at the doorway. He regarded Daryl's worried face and felt as though he was intruding a private moment. "Hershel is gonna get the IV set up with Glenn and then it's Carol's turn."
Daryl nodded placing Carol's hand back at her side, "I'll help, do whatever. Go out there if you need me to or I'll stay in here if you wanna get some air."
Rick rubbed at his ever growing beard, "Can you go help the others bring in the medical things?"
"Sure," Daryl made to leave the cell, not daring to look back at the bed.
"Daryl," Rick said, and his friend halted. "Carol'll pull through this. She's a fighter. Most people would have given up after Sophia. But she…."
"I know," Daryl cut him off, unable to listen to cliches. "I'll go get the rest of the antibiotics in here."
As he left the cell, he saw Hershel at the table which ran alongside the metal staircase. The old man looked devastated. Hershel pulled him into a brief hug, trying to convey his condolences.
"I'm sorry," Daryl muttered quietly.
Hershel looked up at the ceiling, blinking back tears, "You'd think I'd be used to loss by now," he said, his voice filled with grief. The old man took a moment to compose himself. "You know what it's like to have to put down your own blood. The only comfort I have is that at least now she's somewhere she can't be hurt or in pain."
Daryl kicked the floor, chewing on the side of his mouth as he always did when he was emotional.
It had been difficult enough for him to see Merle as one of those things and to end him, he could barely comprehend the loss of a child.
"Now," the old man raised himself up straighter, "I got work to do. I will not lose anybody else. Gotta get these two feeling better. You go bring the rest of the bags in and we'll get going. Don't look so worried, they should both be fine now you're back with the medicine."
Daryl moved toward the main door, more scared than he'd been in a long while.