Chapter 49 - Animus Pt. 1

The Prison

Death Row had descended into chaos. Whoever was left, still alive and still breathing, was trying to escape. In a matter of a few short hours, multiple people had died from the illness and now danger walked among them. History was repeating itself, however now there were little of them left to combat it.

Hershel and Merle had left Cell Block A less than an hour before the madness began. While Merle had assisted their resident doctor with his request, it was Rick that drew his attention away from Death Row. The Sheriff returned from the run he'd gone on with Carol and now he stood in front of them, alone.

"Rick, good to see you back." Hershel greeted him as they wheeled the body out of the room.

"How is everyone doing?" He asked, curious but not asking why Merle was assisting him. It paid not to ask Merle Dixon why he did the things he did.

"I fear we can't wait much longer." Cautioned Hershel, referring to their dire need for medication. Rick frowned,

"They're not back yet?"

"No."

"They'll be back." Merle assured them. Assured himself.

"Quickly I hope." Commented Hershel and Merle found himself nodding in agreement.

"Where are you taking him?" Rick nodded at the man on the gurney who he recognized as Dr. Subramanian.

"Around back. We're burning them behind the blocks."

"Burning them?"

"That's what it's come to. There's no time to bury them and say we did, could we plant in that same ground again?" Hershel sounded somber - the gravity of their situation making it difficult to remain hopeful.

"Are you okay?" Rick asked, concerned.

"I talked to him yesterday about Steinbeck. He told me a quote, 'A sad soul can kill quicker than a germ'. That's exactly why I didn't want them all to see what happens. I know they know but I didn't want them to see it right now."

Hershel's mind wandered to Glenn and Tess and how sickly they both were. If either of them had a weaker constitution, perhaps it'd be one of them he'd be wheeling out next. He wanted neither of them to die, he didn't want anybody to die, yet he prayed for them the most.

"They're seeing you, Hershel." Reassured Rick, "And you Merle. Thank you for helping. I know we've had our differences but you're one of us now, you've proven that. So, thank you."

The praise was unexpected and Merle didn't know how to react. He'd never been welcome anywhere, let alone with people he'd wronged in the past. He certainly never saw this coming when he speculated what it would be like returning to the group over two months ago. Merle nodded at Rick, unable to find any words to respond with. He wasn't about to thank him back and a part of him felt like he'd earned the praise, so he wasn't humble enough to deny him.

Rick faced Hershel again, expecting nothing more or less from the older Dixon brother.

"I need to talk to you about Carol." He said and Merle took the hint that this conversation wasn't for him. He forged ahead with the gurney, leaving Rick and Hershel to discuss.

Burning bodies wasn't something he'd hoped to have on the itinerary for his day, or any other day for that matter, but neither was resuscitating his brother's girlfriend, so he was resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to get what he wanted today. He pulled Dr. S's body onto the smoldering pile, doused it with kerosene and relit the fire. Merle was morally gray at the best of times but even this was too much for him. There was no soul on this planet he believed could stomach this.

Like a car crash in slow motion, Merle couldn't tear himself away from the sight of it. He was hit with such an unnatural sense of remorse and grief that he had nothing to equate it to. Maybe it was rooted in fear? Was he actually concerned for the wellbeing of others? The closest he could compare it to was the emotions he'd felt when he'd learned his mother had died. But even then, his mother was about as close to being an actual parent as he was, so her loss hadn't been overly damaging for him.

Yes, he was fearful of the prospect of losing. Losing his new home, losing someone he'd come to care about and the impact that would have on his brother. He and Daryl had never been closer than they were now and Merle feared that if Tess died, he'd start to lose a part of his brother again too. He knew him well enough to know he would withdraw from everyone and everything. Daryl had opened himself up to someone else for the first time in his life and to have that taken away, would devastate him.

Merle may never have had anyone in his life that he was lucky enough to have fallen in love with but he wasn't ignorant. He knew what that meant for people even if he had never experienced it first hand. He was a cynic out of spite, not because he was naive and it was all for show anyway. There was nothing he wanted more for his brother now than for him to be happy, whatever capacity that came in. After the giant shit stain that had been their life, Daryl deserved at least that.

Tess wasn't half bad either, he supposed. Annoying but tolerable. Daryl could've done worse. Merle thought back to his first encounter with her, on the side of the road in front of the daycare. She'd been nothing but a roadblock to him then, an irritation that he had little patience for. He recalled talking to her in the basement, her condition and how stunned he'd been to hear her still talking - bargaining with and harassing him. She'd impressed him back then and then again at the feedstore when she'd saved his life.

He'd done a terrible thing, kidnapping them, torturing her friends and leaving her to suffer as she had and then on top of that, leaving Daryl to decide between the two of them knowing who he'd inevitably choose. With what he knew now, it was safe to say he wished he'd done things differently and it still confounded him as to why she chose to save him that day. For Daryl, of course but she could've left him to die and his brother would have been none the wiser. That, he didn't understand.

It had taken him some time to come to terms with his prolonged existence, having been determined to meet his end in the name of redemption but he was grateful for it now. It felt like a new chapter. A second chance. Merle didn't believe in all that born again bullshit but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. If it granted him an opportunity to start over, whatever you wanted to call it, he was happy with it.

All to say that he thought himself a changed man. One who cared about other people and feared losing them. He had a home now that he wanted to protect and not because of some misplaced loyalty owed to a madman but due to the genuine respect he had for those around him that treated him like an equal. It was all so terribly saccharine, Merle wanted to be sick.

He shook himself free of the hold of the fire, his eyes burning from the smoke, and he spat at the ground, expressing his distaste for his own internal monologue. Sentimentality got you killed these days, only Merle could see no better reason to die. He spat again, angrier this time. Shut up, he growled at himself, stop being such a candy-ass.

Merle eventually grew tired of arguing with himself and lit a cigarette before walking back around to the front of the prison where he fetched himself some water. The whole place felt like it was on lockdown. Very few people were outside and those that were, were quiet and gloomy. Merle despised the hustle and bustle but he despised the silence even more. It left him with only his thoughts and he regularly hated what his mind conjured up.

As he went to fill his cup once more, dunking the ladle into the cask again, the blast of a gunshot made him drop it with a splash. Merle threw his cup to the side and ran towards the sound as another gunshot echoed through the halls. There was no mistaking where it had come from - Death Row was fulfilling the promise set by its namesake.

He threw the door open to A Block and was met with a barrage of people scrambling to get out. Merle pushed his way in and sprung himself on the first walker he saw, stabbing it through the head with his blade and shoving it to the floor. People were shouting, crying out for help and Merle did his best to get people to safety.

As he ripped his knife out from the back of a walker's skull, he spotted Hershel being led upstairs by a frightened young girl. They stepped over a dead walker's body at the bottom of the stairs and hurried off to their destination - Glenn. Merle found Sasha too and ushered her out of the cell block, allowing her to lean on him as she staggered out of the room.

The one person he had yet to find was the one he was most concerned about. He'd left Tess upstairs and he could only expect her to still be there. When the last of the surviving residents were safely out of the cell block, he made for the stairs. The dead walker at the bottom of the stairs he thought nothing of but the fresh pool of bright red blood caught his attention - then he saw her.

Merle hauled the corpse off of Tess, his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn't help but think he'd manifested this somehow. He'd tempted fate and it had bit back. Her complexion was ashen, borderline cadaverous, and Merle spotted her weeping leg wound. She had a pulse, slow and irregular but still relatively firm. Merle rid himself of his belt and fixed a tourniquet around her thigh before picking her up and rushing her out of the accursed Death Row.

He didn't know what came over him but taking her to the infirmary felt like the best thing for her. Slamming his shoulder into the door, he hurried inside and placed her down on one of the beds. She'd yet to wake, none of the jostling from his running had roused her and Merle was frantic that he was too late.

Desperately searching through the cabinets, he found saline, bandages, and a stapler. Merle hadn't been lying earlier, he wasn't a doctor, but he'd learnt a thing or two during his time in the army. Reluctantly, he cut a bigger hole in the fabric around her wound and flushed it clean with the saline solution.

Tess stirred but didn't wake up. Merle used some of the bandages to pat the wound down, trying to get a better look at it. While the bleeding had slowed, it was still spilling from the gash at a steady rate. He flushed it once more and then put pressure on it as he reached for the surgical stapler.

"Sorry, Kid." He muttered and pressed it into her leg.

The stapler fired and Tess jolted awake in a panic but quickly passed out again, falling limp on the bed. Merle held her down while he continued to staple along the wound, patching it and wrapping it when he was done. With the wound bandaged, he stepped away from Tess again and began ripping into the drawers.

Merle hunted for tubing and a cannula, rigging up a makeshift IV with his final bag of saline. His hand shook nervously as he approached her arm with the needle, accidentally stabbing her incorrectly before hitting the vein. He watched for the solution to begin dripping down the tube and then Merle slumped onto the bed opposite. Having done all he could, he prayed to God for the first time in nearly forty years.

—

Daryl could sense something wasn't right as soon as they arrived back at the prison. Maybe it was the nauseous feeling in his gut, the terrible anxiety that had been with him since he left or maybe it was the gaping hole in their fence. Michonne sped up the gravel path towards Rick and Carl who were facing off with the final few dead that had breached their walls. Daryl, while conflicted with his own priorities, leapt out of the car with her when they stopped and ran over to help - Tyrese and Bob rushed up to the prison and towards Cell Block A.

He wanted to follow them in and set eyes on the people he cared about to make sure they were still alive and breathing but he couldn't turn away from Rick when he needed his help. Together, the three of them pushed the fence back up into place as best they could while Carl watched their backs. The kid carried an assault rifle that nearly matched him in height but he held it with a confidence that made him look older than his years.

It was just as well too because even though people were beginning to spill out of the prison, none of them were heading their way. They fled into the open, frightened of whatever was inside. Daryl hurried to fix the fence with the others, his feet nearly beginning to drag him away on their own accord. He didn't like the shouts that were coming from behind him or the sound of people sobbing - none of it bode well.

With the fence mostly up again, Rick turned to him and nodded, letting him know that they had it from here. Daryl didn't need to be told twice. He took off for the prison, sprinting towards bedlam. He didn't see her there in the mob of people that had gathered and he pushed his way through and inside. It was unnervingly silent the closer he got to Death Row and when he finally reached it, he quickly found out why.

It was mostly empty. Dead bodies scattered the floor - various weapons protruding from their heads. Tyrese was with his sister, cradling her in his arms as he waited for the medicine to kick in. Daryl walked past them as he headed towards the stairs. Hershel, Maggie and Bob were seeing to Glenn. The latter of which was slowly coaxing the ventilator from Glenn's throat so that he could administer medication and Daryl felt chills run down his spine.

"Hershel," Daryl rasped, drawing the vets' attention, "where is she?"

"I don't know, I'm sorry." He shook his head with a somber frown, knowing he'd failed to watch over Tess. He had no answers to give him, no idea at all what had happened to her or where she would be. Hershel dreaded to think of the possibilities.

Stone cold and petrified, Daryl turned back to the stairs again. He approached the dead body at the bottom and nearly stomped on its head in anger when he saw the knife. He recognized it as Tess' and yanked it from the dead walker's skull. A pool of blood was beginning to dry beneath the body but it was fresh and bright and nothing like the blood from a walker. His fist clenched around the handle until his knuckles turned white.

Daryl had never felt a fear like this. He'd always trusted his gut but now all it was trying to do was convince him that she was dead and refused to believe it. All that time spent searching for a way to help her couldn't have been for nothing. No. Tess couldn't be dead. If she had enough strength to kill a walker, he had to believe that she was still alive. He'd yet to find Merle too and if anyone was going to drag her out of here, it was going to be him. Daryl could think of only one place he'd have taken her if she had been injured and without another word to anyone else, he ran off in search of them both.

—

Merle had lost faith in prayer. The longer he stayed here, waiting for some miracle to happen, the more cynical he became. Praying had never done him any good before, so why would it now? What was the point of sitting here, begging someone that wasn't listening, or wasn't even there to begin with? He began to have serious doubts about himself, a higher power, about help that was never going to come. What more could he do?

If he left Tess' side and something happened that he could've prevented, then that was a guilt he wasn't prepared to live with. Merle regretted many things in life, most of which he'd come to terms with never rectifying, but this… He wasn't willing to risk it. And so he waited - waited for her to wake up or for help to arrive, whichever came first.

—

Tess was used to sleeping in now. In fact, she enjoyed it.

Mornings were slow and so incredibly mundane but she enjoyed them all the same. In fact, she loved them.

She loved this little life of hers. She loved this little life of theirs.

Without knowing how she got there, Tess walked down the stairs towards the smell of coffee and bacon grease. She thought she recognized the smell, the same as every morning, but she couldn't remember the last time she'd woken up to cooked bacon and a cup of coffee.

Tess found herself in the kitchen, inhaling the rich scent of roasted arabica and felt at home. She didn't recognize the kitchen or the dining table but it felt like hers. It was rustic, yet modern, like something from a magazine that was far beyond her pay grade - idealistic and very upper middle class. The longer she looked at it, the less it felt real.

Then she saw Daryl at the stove. He was cooking something nondescript that held the aroma of bacon but it didn't cross her mind that it was strange. She was too busy staring, admiring Daryl as he cooked and how perfectly normal this all felt. He wore dark blue jeans, clean, and a faded black button up with the sleeves rolled up, also clean. He was barefoot, which was odd and did make her frown, but then he was handing her coffee and her attention was drawn elsewhere.

"Good mornin'." He spoke for the first time and returned to the stove. She smiled,

"Morning."

"It's snowing." Was it? Tess turned and looked out the window to the front yard, which she hadn't noticed before. So it was. She raised the cup of coffee to her lips and took a sip - it tasted of nothing.

"I think the kids are gonna want to make snowmen again." Daryl shuffled the pan on the stove and she choked.

"Huh?" She coughed, "What kids?"

"Judith and…" Tess heard him say a second name but it just sounded like the word got caught in his throat.

"Judith and who?"

"Glenn and Maggie's kid." Daryl clarified and her racing heart slowly calmed down.

"Oh…" She muttered, feeling noticeably disappointed.

"Maybe that's them now." He commented moments before someone knocked at the door.

Uneasily, Tess rose from her chair. The scent of coffee and bacon had left the room but she could still hear the pan sizzling with whatever was cooking in it. She approached the door and nervously glanced back at Daryl who was still casually attending to their breakfast. Whoever was at the door, she just wanted them to leave. She wanted to return to her catalog kitchen and the man that made it a home.

Despite her better judgement, she opened the door. Beyond, was nobody. Nothing. No kids, no street, no neighbors, no neighborhood. Just black. It was limitless and lightless, like the void between galaxies. Tess turned back towards her home, afraid of the dark but only found more of it. She stood in the frame of a doorway, no door and no house, staring into the black. Her home was gone and with it, so was Daryl.

Tess turned back through the doorway and in the distance, she saw the technicolor room of her dreams. Bright and orange like the sun, with the same mirage of the woman she'd come to know that liked daisies and Brandy. She beckoned to her, inviting her over to dance but even from this distance, Tess could sense the blue creeping in. The cold, the silence, the broken glass and the fear that came with it.

Again, she turned, desperate for the home that she'd left. A small speck on the horizon, her life waited for her - picturesque and hopeful. She wanted that. For her, for Daryl, for them. They deserved that. He stood there waiting for her to return and Tess wanted nothing more than to be loved by him.

It took her little less than a second to decide which way to step.

Tess regained consciousness in the darkness and became painfully aware of the agony her body was in. Her leg was throbbing on-beat with her head, her back ached, her chest felt tight and there was a sharp pinch in her right arm. Her eyes felt heavy and she fought to open them, squinting as they adjusted to the daylight; minimal that it was. Daylight… she hadn't seen that in days. Where was she now? She tried to sit up but didn't have the strength and groaned when her arms wouldn't support her.

She felt someone appear by her side and she blinked her eyes open, trying to focus. Merle stood over her, she recognized him by his hand, or rather what little was left of it. Tess heard him say something to her but she hadn't the energy to move her head, let alone concentrate on the words he was saying. Her vision was blurred and groggy but even in her deteriorated state, she immediately recognized the person standing at the entrance of the infirmary when the door slammed open.

The last thing she saw before she fell unconscious again was Daryl.

—

The overwhelming relief Daryl felt when he laid eyes on her was so visceral that it nearly brought him to his knees. Merle was an afterthought, he was upright and moving and so Daryl barely registered his existence until he approached the sickbed where they both were. Tess was ashen and clammy, dark circles curved around her eyes and her lips were cracked and stained red.

Daryl's eyes trailed down from her sickly face, his heart thundering in his chest, towards the cannula in her arm and the small bruising that surrounded it and then to the bandage that wrapped her leg.

"What happened?" Daryl asked, his voice hoarse and thick with concern. He recalled the walker he found at the bottom of the stairs, the pool of blood that was beneath it and her knife that was safely tucked into his belt.

"She ain't bit." Merle assured him, stepping back from the bed. "My guess is she pulled a knife out her leg."

Daryl slipped her knife from his belt and held the blade out for them both to see.

"Yeah, looks about right." Merle nodded nonchalantly, masquerading as unbothered in the face of his little brother.

"Did you do this?" Daryl nodded at the half-full IV bag hanging above Tess' head and the tube that ran down to her arm.

"Someone had to." His brother shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest.

Daryl stepped over to him, overcome with emotions he couldn't put names to, and clasped Merle on the shoulder sincerely.

"Thank you."

The pair of them shared a long, hard look, both dealing with their own internal strife. There was no hiding how he felt and Daryl knew Merle would see right through him even if he tried. He had been terrified of losing her. It was a fate he would have been incapable of accepting. To have the first and only person he'd opened up to taken away from him… the damage would have been irreparable for him.

Merle nodded at him and stepped back again, still unable to tolerate any form of physical affection or gratitude.

"Don't say I don't do nothin' for ya." He grunted and turned to leave. "I'll go get her some of that medication you spent so goddamn long searching for."

Daryl dropped onto the bed opposite Tess as Merle left the room. He watched the shallow rise and fall of her chest, desperate for the reassurance that she was still breathing. He caught himself reaching for her and stopped, too afraid to commit the feeling of her frigid skin to memory. He didn't want that. He didn't want to know what that felt like.

He restlessly gnawed at the inside of his cheek as his mind wandered to an old memory - Carol admonishing him for running Tess off after she sat by his bedside back at the farm. Is what he felt now the same as what she had felt then? Lost, afraid, desperate. He'd sell his soul if he believed he had one should it guarantee she woke up again.

That was an unusual feeling for him. Daryl was getting used to going out of his way for others now - Sophia, Carol, the family on the bridge, Bob. Not to mention the lengths he'd go to in order to protect his newfound family. But something about how he felt now was different, more innate and deeply-rooted. The longer he thought about it, the less he wanted to. The answer only served to scare him more.

Merle returned with Hershel minutes later and Daryl reluctantly stepped away to let the vet check on Tess. He noticed him eyeing the IV drip in her arm and he turned to look at them both in intrigue. Daryl remained tight lipped and Merle scowled, awaiting judgement, leaving Hershel to assume rightly who had done it. He delivered no judgement however and turned back to Tess to unravel the bandage around her leg.

"Staples?" Hershel inquired. Not the method he would've chosen. It would no doubt scar.

"I ain't no seamstress." Merle grumbled, having done the best he could.

At least the wound looked clean, Hershel had to grant him that. Whatever medical attention he'd provided her, it was just as well he had.

"She gon' be alright?" Daryl asked, the slight tremor in his tone indicating just how nervous he was.

Hershel didn't have the heart to tell him that he didn't know. He wasn't sure what her odds were but he struggled to believe that he was ever going to watch her die. Of all the terrible luck they'd had, they should at least be granted this one grace.

"The sooner we give her this medicine the better." Was all Hershel said. Tess' injury was one thing but her being sick was making it all the worse.

Hershel placed the back of his hand against her forehead and was surprised by how tepid it was. The last time he'd check, she'd been burning with a fever but it seemed to have reduced greatly. How much of it was attributed to blood loss, he couldn't say but he took it as a good sign.

"Tess?" Hershel called out softly and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Tess?"

She wasn't much in the mood to wake up, as possible as that was while being in and out of consciousness. It hurt a lot less when she slept. She'd heard mutterings from the people around her as they discussed her condition and while she could sense that they were concerned for her, she wasn't yet able to rouse herself. Hearing Hershel call out to her was what finally convinced her to open her eyes again.

Tess groaned weakly as her eyes adjusted to the waning light. All she wanted was to continue sleeping. Her brain felt like it was trying to escape her skull and her leg like it may fall off. She strained to keep her eyes open and did her best to focus in on the person standing over her - Hershel.

"Tess," He breathed a sigh of relief, "good to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

Terrible, that was the truth. Like she'd fallen down a flight of stairs and been stabbed in the leg. What more could she equate it to?

"Alive." She rasped, lacklusterly. Her mouth was dry and her throat was tender and scratchy. Everything hurt.

"We'll take, alive." Hershel conceded sympathetically. "Your fever appears to have broken but you still need to take some of this medicine."

It was then that Tess remembered seeing Daryl in the doorway and suddenly everything hurt a little less. She tore her eyes from Hershel and looked behind him. Without thinking about it, her hand reached out across the bed for him, unhappy with the distance. Daryl lurched forward then hesitated, looked up and Hershel, who shuffled over, and then finally came to her bedside where he took her hand. It was warm and familiar, restoring the parts inside of her that had been lost while she waited for him to return.

"Make sure she takes this." Hershel left the medication on the opposite bed for her. "I'll come check in on you a bit later."

Hershel gave her a warm, tired smile, which she did her best to return but could only muster the latter. He knew Daryl needed privacy before he'd be able to fully express his concern to Tess and so he ushered Merle out of the room with him. The older Dixon brother trailed along behind him but stopped short of exiting, looking over his shoulder to say;

"Glad you're okay, Kid." Merle didn't wait to see or hear her reply; he didn't want people to know he cared that much. Hershel glanced back at the odd trio fondly, relieved that the glue that held them together was still alive.

Daryl waited to hear the door close before crouching beside the bed. He clasped Tess' hand in both of his and rested his chin atop his knuckles, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Tess smiled, feeling remarkably emotional for a reason she couldn't quite explain. A slow, singular tear rolled down her cheek and Daryl caught sight of it before she could wipe it away.

"What's wrong?" He frowned, fearing that the tears were pain-induced. Tess faintly shook her head.

"It's happy." She assured him and he nodded, clearly agreeing with whatever happiness and relief she was feeling. "I'm glad you're back." Tess whispered, her voice failing her.

Daryl's hand found her face and his thumb wiped across her damp cheek. He could see she was tired and needed rest, even though he wanted nothing more than to sit here and talk with her.

"I should'a got back sooner."

"You're here now. That's all I care about."

Tess was beginning to feel her eyes droop again and Daryl noticed. He reached over for the medication and helped administer it to her. This close to her, he could see the red staining in the cracks of her lips and fear boiled in his stomach. He wanted to ask her about it but now wasn't the time. As long as she was living, breathing and talking, he could be convinced that everything was okay.

"You should rest." He told her, helping her to lay back down.

"Will you stay?" Tess inquired and it sounded like a plea. Daryl had absolutely no intention of leaving her. Never again.

"I'm not going anywhere."