Chapter Text
Rosita, Eugene, Siddiq and Gabriel gathered around Carol as she sobbed. Negan rubbed her back. None of them spoke. There was nothing they could say that could console her. They hoped that their presence would be enough to show their love and support for her.
Then… she felt warmth in her fingers…
At first, Carol thought she was just imagining it. It had to be wishful thinking. No, she knew she'd felt something. It frightened her, because, if she was wrong, she would fall into an even worse state of despair. Still, she couldn't stop herself from looking at her hands.
"Daryl????"
A raspy cough sputtered out of his mouth, and his sensitive blue eyes blinked open. Tears exploding across her face like a waterfall, she threw her arms around him and buried her head into his chest. Over and over in her mind, Carol thanked God for the miracle He'd bestowed upon her. But she could not articulate the words. All she could do was cry tears of joy and clutch Daryl for dear life.
"Take it easy, woman. You're carrying on like I'm dead," Daryl murmured.
He was tough and guarded, same old Daryl. Carol would never mention his tightening grip on her hand, or how he was burying his chin in her hair. There was no need to speak the words. Daryl was alive. He was here.
"Daryl, I…"
"C'mon Carol, Siddiq needs to check him out," Gabriel interrupted.
The priest tugged at her shoulders to separate the pair of them. He was probably right. Daryl did need further examination. But Daryl would not let go of Carol, and Carol had no intention of ever leaving Daryl's side again.
"No, it's alright," Siddiq responded. He placed his hand on Daryl's forehead after slipping the thermometer back into his mouth. "His fever is starting to break." Siddiq checked Daryl's pulse, then he tapped the bag of saline solution. "He seems stable, but he needs some rest." He turned to Carol. "When that bag is empty, I want you to replace it with another one. If you can, try to get him to eat and drink. I need to get to the infirmary, but you can come and get me if you need anything."
Unable to tear her eyes away from Daryl, Carol nodded her understanding. Siddiq left the room, followed by Gabriel, Eugene and Rosita, after they all said their goodbyes. For a few extra seconds, Negan lingered behind. He seemed to be contemplating whether or not to speak. Though it was quite out of character for him, he bit his tongue.
However, he positioned himself beside Daryl and Carol. Grasping her shoulder very firmly, he forced her to meet his gaze. Words were unnecessary. Carol knew what Negan was telling her just by the seriousness of his stare.
"He want to knock your boots down now?" Daryl scoffed as Negan disappeared behind their bedroom door.
Carol choked on her laughter. Despite having survived a near death experience, he was still the same cheeky Daryl that she'd fallen so hard for all those years ago. He hadn't changed. He never would. And nothing would change the way she felt about him.
But, maybe, just maybe, something was different. Had there been a twinge of jealousy in the tone of his voice? Had that question been more than just a joke?
Shaking her head, Carol answered, "No, kind of the opposite. He's…trying to make me be brave."
"What're you talking about? You're the bravest person I've ever met," Daryl told her. His sincerity was one of the traits she so adored in him.
"I've been a coward. I've been too afraid to tell you," Carol admitted. She took a deep breath and steeled herself for the terrifying unknown. "I love you Daryl."
Instinctively, Carol waited for his typical response. She was so sure that Daryl would pull back from her, retreat into his protective shell. Or maybe he would react with defensive anger and push her away.
Sure, Daryl had grown into a more mature, more open man throughout the apocalypse. He'd gone from being a shy, isolated, aggressive hermit to a full fledged leader of their group (albeit still quiet, but some of the best leaders are). In the beginning, he'd been unable to allow anyone to poke holes into his walls. Now, he'd opened his heart to Carol, Connie, Maggie, Rick, Michonne, Rosita and especially Judith.
But those three words were a leviathan that they hadn't tamed yet. Carol did not know how Daryl would take her confession. Everybody seemed to believe that he felt the same way, but she couldn't be so sure. He'd never been receptive to her feeble attempts at flirtation before. It was not a stretch to surmise that he would not care too much for this humongous declaration.
"For what it's worth, I was a coward, too. I shouldn't have wasted so much time. I shouldn't have let you marry Ezekiel," Daryl stated. "Not without telling you that I love you."
The love in Daryl's eyes was childlike. It was pure and innocent. It was real. It was infinite.
Carol's love was fire. It was hot and passionate. It was uncontrollable. It had burned from the moment they'd met outside Atlanta, and it would rage for all of her days.
With some effort, Daryl forced some tea down his throat. Now that he had someone to live for, he really did not want to die. As the fever loosened its grip on Daryl, and as the fluids dripped into his veins, they fell asleep in each other's arms. In Daryl's dream, Merle and Glenn were strumming guitars and singing along with Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire."