Chapter 25

Dean woke up before dawn with a throbbing headache and sluggish limbs. He felt hot and groaned, realizing he'd come down with something.

Not wanting to pass it on to Leo, who still slept soundly in his crib, he wrapped a cloth around his face and carefully picked the small boy up, hoping not to wake him. As he walked out, he found Rick already up, carrying an awake Judith on his hip. Rick took one look at Dean's flushed face, quickly set Judith down in a nearby playpen, and stepped forward to take Leo from him.

"Go lay down in the clinic," Rick ordered sympathetically. "I'll take care of Leo until Daryl or Beth wakes up."

Dean nodded in thanks, then sluggishly dragged himself toward the makeshift clinic. He stopped in the hallway to rest for a moment.

Merle walked by and snickered. "Ya look like shit, Dean."

Dean just groaned in agreement as his brain pounded against his skull. Merle winced but decided to help, slinging an arm around Dean's waist to lug him the rest of the way to the clinic just past Cell Block D.

"Jus' a cold," Dean mumbled. "Coulda walked myself."

Merle just chuckled, dumped him on an empty bed, and left. Only a couple of other people were laid out in other beds around the room, all asleep. As Dean waited for Hershel or one of his assistants to make an appearance, he found himself drifting off as well.

He was torn from his rest by moaning and sat up, thinking one of the other patients needed attention. His fevered mind struggled to make sense of what he was seeing.

When reality set in, he immediately jumped up, knocking over a bedpan from a side table. Three walkers were now moving toward him, drawn by the noise. Desperately, he looked around for anything he could use as a weapon.

"Shit," he cursed, not seeing anything sharp enough to use. He maneuvered himself so the bed was between him and the walkers, weakly trying to use it as a battering ram. It was a mostly pathetic attempt.

But it gave him enough space to stumble past them and out of the clinic. Hearing screams coming from Cell Block D, he went the opposite way, not wanting to add to the number of walkers that had made it in and hoping they'd be able to manage it. He attempted to yell a warning to anyone nearby. His throat was groggy, and all that came out was a croak that no one ten feet away would hear.

He could hear the walkers dragging themselves behind him as he nearly tripped over his own feet, adrenaline already waning in his weakened state. He didn't want the walkers heading toward his people in the other blocks. He noticed that a few of the walkers from Cell Block D, as well as those from the clinic, had followed him, drawn by the noise he'd been making.

The best he could do was try to lead them out of the prison where the guards could help take them down and put out a warning. So that's what he did. Pushing through his fever, he managed to keep enough distance between himself and the walkers, leading them out through one of the mostly unused exits of the prison that opened into the yard.

Once outside, he ensured the walkers were still following him and picked up a nearby stick to whack against objects, keeping their attention. He led them toward an area where he knew a patroller would spot them. But he knew he was in trouble when his body shuddered and his legs gave out beneath him.

He groaned but continued to drag himself forward. As a walker caught up and lunged for his throat, he managed to drive the stick into its skull, stopping it just in time. He might be immune to walker bites, but an attack like that would still be fatal.

His strength finally left him completely, his fever roaring beneath his skin and clouding his mind. He hadn't imagined this would be how it ended, but he knew he was done for. The walkers were nearly upon him and

his limbs felt too heavy to defend himself.

Then shots rang out, barely registering in his fogged state, and the walkers started dropping. Yells and his name blended together as the world spun around him. His last conscious memory before everything went dark was the heat he felt and the relief of seeing familiar blue eyes, not glazed over like a walker's, looking down at him.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Daryl woke feeling well-rested, his mind clearer. Light filtered in from his window as he yawned. He decided to steal some time with Leo before planning their next run, since he hadn't spent any time with the kid the night before.

He still didn't know how it happened, but somehow he and Dean had become responsible for the little troublemaker. And somehow he can't find it in himself to mind. The kid had attached himself to Daryl's heart like a leech.

He pulled on his boots, slung his crossbow over his shoulder, and went in search of Dean to borrow Leo for a bit. Instead, he found Beth with both Judith and Leo sitting in high chairs, feeding them baby food.

Beth seemed to be holding up well, he observed.

He wondered where Dean was, as he usually fed Leo in the morning and took him to 'daycare' before helping with chores and then relieving Maggie of her watch in a couple of hours. With today's run delayed due to yesterday's events, Daryl assumed Dean would continue with his usual routine.

"Where's Dean?" Daryl asked Beth aloud, taking over feeding Leo so she could focus on Judith.

"Rick said he was sick with a cold or somethin, so he took Leo and sent Dean to the clinic," Beth answered. "Some meds and rest, and he'll be right as rain."

Daryl nodded, masking his concern with a blank expression. He'd find an excuse to check on Dean later. Just then, Merle stumbled in loudly, yawning as he headed toward a pot of coffee.

"Hey, darlina, ya check on ya lil' wife yet? He wasn't lookin' so good when I had to drag his ass to the clinic earlier," Merle teased.

"You saw him?" Daryl ignored his brother's digs into his nonexistent relationship with Dean.

"Not since a few hours ago. Looked like he might need an ice bath," Merle cringed. "Too bad his pretty nurse is an old crippled man."

"Dad? He didn't go to the clinic today. He's watching over his assistants while they make medicinal herbs. He said he didn't have…" Beth trailed off as realization hit her.

Daryl stared at her, concern growing. "If Hershel isn't at the clinic, and his assistants aren't at the clinic, then who's checking on Dean?" he asked, his tone hardening. This was an incredibly stupid oversight for her to make. He tried to rein in his anger, knowing she was grieving over Zach more than she was letting on.

"I-I'm sure he's fine," Beth stuttered apologetically. Daryl turned away before she could say anything else and made his way toward the clinic.

Screams pierced the air, and he reflexively grabbed his crossbow as he ran toward Cell Block D, where the screams were coming from. When he arrived, there were only a few walkers to put down, all of them residents, so It wasn't a breach as far as he could tell.

Most of the now awake residents had been able to lock themselves safely behind bars, the small number of walkers being the one small blessing for the residents to evade them once the situation was discovered. He took them all down in what felt like seconds. Rick and a few others ran into the room not long after.

It was definitely not as bad as it could have been, but they'd still lost a few people. Karen approached them as soon as they were sure all walkers had been put down.

"What hap—" Rick started to ask.

"Did you get the ones that got out?" Karen interrupted. Daryl froze; he hadn't seen any walkers when he came in.

"At least two left the cell block when we heard noise coming from down the hallway. And I don't know if any left before I woke up to screaming."

Daryl and Rick immediately tore out of the room. "We both came from that way, so they had to have gone this way," Rick spoke quickly.

"The clinic," Daryl swore. They ran a few paces to the clinic, finding an empty room. Daryl felt a ball form in his throat at the amount of blood around the room but swallowed it down. They quickly left the clinic and continued running down the hall, following a trail of blood that led to an open door leading outside.

They exited and heard gunshots from around the corner, which they hurried towards, the moans of the walkers now clearly audible.

Daryl watched as Dean tried to drag himself but collapsed, no longer able to move. Maggie, who had been on watch, shot down the last walker before it could reach Dean. Rick and Daryl rushed towards their fallen comrade, both calling out his name, hoping they weren't too late.

Daryl reached Dean first, watching as Dean briefly made eye contact before losing consciousness. He quickly checked him over for bites and sighed in relief when he didn't find any. His concern rose when he realized how high Dean's fever was.

"We need to get him to Hershel," Rick said, coming to the same conclusion. They both pulled him up, but Daryl decided they were moving too slow. He bent down and picked Dean up like a damsel to move inside faster. He groaned inwardly at the future jokes he knew Merle would be torturing him with later if he found out.

They quickly brought him to where Hershel was already treating another wounded survivor, who had an injured hand.

Hershel hobbled over immediately, leaving his previous patient in the care of his assistants.

"He's burning up," Daryl informed him. "Had a fever since this morning."

"Did anyone give him any meds, fever reducer?" Hershel asked.

"Don't think so. Was waitin' on you to get to the clinic. Beth forgot to mention you wasn't gonna be there," Daryl replied, annoyance seeping into his tone.

"Okay," Hershel nodded, disappointment in his daughter's failed communion palpable but not the priority at the moment as felt how hot Dean's temperature was. "I'm gonna need you to help me get him to the showers. He's gonna need to cool down. Then we'll try to get some medicine in him."

Daryl nodded and carried Dean to the communal showers, Hershel following with a towel and extra clothes. Rick left to handle things elsewhere.

They locked the door for privacy, then carefully maneuvered Dean to a bench in order to strip him down to his briefs. Daryl also removed his own weapons, leather vest, and boots.

Hershel turned on the faucet of one of the showers, adjusting it to just below lukewarm. Daryl wrapped an arm around Dean's waist and guided him under the spray, disregarding the fact that his own clothes were getting wet.

Dean stirred, emitting a whine as the cold water hit him. He weakly struggled to get away from the source of the water.

Daryl gripped Dean tighter, knowing it was the quickest way to bring down his fever. If only they'd been able to give him meds sooner, before it got this bad. Daryl gritted his teeth, hating the feeling of being the reason for Dean's increasingly panicked struggles and cries as he tried harder to escape his firm grip.

"Let me go," Dean begged. "I'll be good, I swear."

"It's okay, Dean. Just gotta bring the fever down," Daryl tried to soothe him.

"Daryl?" Dean's raspy voice asked, needing assurance that this was reality and he wasn't in his fevered dream. Daryl felt Dean's fist grab desperately onto his shirt.

"Yeah, just me. I got ya," Daryl reassured him firmly, determined to keep Dean's mind rooted in the present.

"It's cold," Dean stuttered, beginning to shiver. He was practically cuddling into Daryl's shoulder at this point, and Daryl wasn't sure what to do. He wasn't used to having someone cling to him like this, even though he had already been half-holding onto Dean to keep him from falling over—or escaping. At the same time he doesn't like the idea of anyone else being in his place either. It's too confusing for Daryl to interpret, so he ignores it.

"Should be okay to bring him out. Keep him conscious until we can get some medicine in him," Hershel instructed from where he leaned on his crutch, not commenting on the uncomfortably intimate picture the two made, understanding it was out of necessity. Thankfully, Hershel was a mature adult, unlike his brother.

Daryl turned the faucet off and led a shivering Dean over to a bench. He helped Dean sit down and fetched a towel, which he used to dry him off.

"I-I-I heard a s-scream from C-cell Block D," Dean managed to speak through his chattering, vulnerability etched in his tone as if upset he couldn't do more in his weakened state. "I-I tried to l-lead them away."

"You did, Dean," Hershel affirmed. "Would've lost a lot more if you hadn't led half of them away. There were 40 people in that cell block. We only lost 11. If those 5 that followed you had gone to the cell block, who knows how many others would have been infected before Daryl got there."

Daryl couldn't even be annoyed that Dean pulled more self-sacrificial heroics this time, knowing he would have done the same thing.

"L-Leo and J-Judith?" Dean asked, worry etched into his face as he looked up at Daryl, maintaining his awareness long enough to ensure the safety of the kids.

"They're safe," Daryl assured him. He saw the tension visibly release from Dean's shoulders as he slumped in relief, placing his head in his hands. "Thank God."

Hershel handed Daryl two sets of clothes, and Daryl nodded in gratitude. He hadn't realized Hershel had thought ahead enough to include a pair for him as well. He watched Dean clumsily pull his on while Daryl changed out of his soaked clothes and into the dry ones, relieved to be rid of the chill the wet clothes had caused.

Once Dean was dressed, Daryl helped him up, and together they slowly made their way back to Hershel's temporary makeshift clinic until the old one could be cleaned up.

Daryl helped Dean into the bed, then stepped back to allow Hershel to take over. He observed as Hershel pulled out various medications and had Dean swallow a white pill along with some liquid. Daryl almost wanted to smile at the scrunched-up face and whine Dean made at the taste as he swallowed it down, fighting to stay lucid. It reminded him of the time he had compared him to a kitten.

Hershel had Dean list out his symptoms, then laid a large blanket from a nearby stack on dean's lap.

"Looks like it's probably just the flu, but let me know if you feel any more symptoms," Hershel told them as Dean lay back on the bed, exhaustion evident in every part of his body and his eyes beginning to glaze over again as his thoughts began to swim away. "Get some rest. I'll give you some more medicine in a few hours."

Dean nodded, his eyes already closing. "Thanks, doc…"

"I'll keep an eye on his fever. You should go check in with Rick. See if you guys can figure out how this happened," Hershel directed. Daryl nodded, taking one last glance at Dean before turning to find Rick.

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A/N: Dean's presence is finally starting to make some real changes to the events in the walking dead besides keeping Merle alive! Now most of Cell Block D gets to live including the lil girl who turned paycho and her sister's dad!