Chapter Text
Fuck, it’d been a long week. An important one yes, not to mention needed, but damn it had dragged. Daryl couldn’t help but be struck by a creeping sadness and melancholy that any time spent with his family could feel so tense, so uncertain, that every moment stretched to an hour. It was so alien to how they all used to be and Daryl never realised how much he took that for granted. He wanted it back; that easy closeness, that utter, bone deep belief that they all had each other’s backs, that they were a single unit against the rest of their fucked up world.
Then Negan came. He did more than just terrorise their communities, more than just kill people they loved, he became the unending thorn in their side. The one that was still keeping Daryl’s whole family at odds with each other, simply by continuing to breathe.
He took another long drag of his cigarette, barely even noticing the staleness of them anymore, just grateful for whatever momentary calm the nicotine gave him as he sat on the steps of the theatre and looked out over the Kingdom. It’d been a good idea to hold the meeting here, somewhere mostly neutral for Maggie and Rick, somewhere neither of them felt fully comfortable or in control. Not to mention free of the fucking pest that haunted the basement prison of Alexandria.
The leaders and their advisors were still inside, still arguing over the little things as though they were important, as though what aid got sent where, which baskets of produce they traded for another, actually meant anything. Daryl had to duck out, had to take a moment to just breathe, to escape the stifling tension between two of the people he cared about most in this world. Hearing them speak about crates of eggs and spear heads with the underlying pain and anger from Rick’s decision to keep Negan alive was too much for him.
He was just so angry, still, every moment of every day. He was getting better, he knew that, but seeing Rick again had brought back all those feelings; the rage, the betrayal, the haunting memories of humiliation and suffering at the hands of the person Rick refused to make pay. Maggie’s screams as she was denied her revenge, her peace of mind.
It’d been months since that day, but he could still never quite manage to get that sound out of his head.
He loved Rick, he was his brother, but he just couldn’t shake those feelings, not yet anyway. It was the first meeting of the leaders of the three main communities, the first time they’d all really been together since the war finished, and Daryl had prepared for it to go bad. So far nothing had been said outright, but it felt like it was building and he didn’t trust himself enough to be around that.
They’d barely spoken to each other the entire week.
Forcing his breathing to calm, using the techniques Paul showed him, Daryl watched the Kingdom move around him. It’d taken a beating, all their communities had, but it was picking itself up well. No doubt Carol had a large hand in that and Daryl was so immensely proud of her it hurt. It was a good place, even now, and it’d continue to grow into something that could last.
But as good of a place as it was, he found he was yearning to go back to Hilltop.
Daryl had long ago given up on any kind of notion of home. Seeing his first go up in flames and taking his momma with it had shaken his belief in the permanence of any kind of safety or comfort. After that, he just had places he existed in. The prison had been the first place that started to feel like home, like somewhere he could see himself being until his number was up. Then that went up in smoke too.
He’d put up a good fight, he really had, but in the end, Hilltop and its people had sunk their hooks into his bones before he’d even realised. Now, all he wanted was to return.
And in his more self aware moments, Daryl knew exactly who was responsible for that. Especially after what happened the morning he set off for the Kingdom. When-
A small body joined him on the step with a sigh, Carol’s familiar, worn hands appearing into view as she stole the cigarette from his shaky grip and took a drag. He’d seen her the most out of his split up family in the months since the war ended; not as often as he’d have liked, but both of them had made the trip a few times, the last being a month ago when he and Paul returned one of their cars that Daryl finally got working again. Even so, it settled him to have her near again, especially when everything else seemed to be falling apart.
“It’s not the end you know Daryl?” She said into the silence. “Might seem it now, but it won’t last forever. Families change, but they don’t stop being family. This won’t change us.”
He sighed and leant into her side. “Don’t know ‘bout that this time. Maggie won’t stop wantin’ him dead and Rick won’t stop keepin’ him alive. If one wins, one looses. Shit situation all round.”
She didn’t try to talk him round, didn’t often any pointless comments or reassurances, because both of them knew damn well it was a tricky situations, one that might never have a satisfactory ending for everyone.
After a few moments of silence, Carol nudged him gently. “So what’s new at Hilltop then?”
Maybe once he’d have answered with a gruff ‘nothin’ or maybe just a shrug. Now however? Now he had words again.
Daryl told her about the improvements they’d made since he last spoke to her; how they’d expanded the fields, how they were starting to cobble together building plans for more housing, how their pig had just given birth. He felt himself burying a smile as he recounted the last scavenging trip he went on with Paul, the both of them gone for a week long run that stretched a little longer than intended. It’d been a good trip, despite the herd that came through the town they were picking through, stranding them in a book store for two days.
Daryl was sure he’d never seen anyone so happy at the prospect of being trapped in a building by a ravenous pack of the walking dead. Pretty sure he’d never seen a nicer smile on anyone either.
“You and Jesus are close huh?”
If his heart skipped a beat at her question, he hoped it didn’t show. He lit up a new cigarette just to have something to do with his hands. And buy him a few seconds.
“Mhm,” he finally answered. “S’pose so.”
Daryl could feel her looking at him but he kept his eyes fixed firmly out at the Kingdom, trying to keep his face as still as he could. She could always read him too well.
“He’s a good guy you know?” She said, voice kind. “Not sure I ever told you that. I’m glad you met each other.”
Her words, whilst seemingly simple, were packed with so much underlying meaning that it felt like being stabbed.
If he was ever going to say anything, Daryl would never find out what it was, as at that moment he heard Maggie’s raised voice coming from the room behind him. With an awkward little nudge to Carol’s shoulder, knowing she’d understand him, Daryl took the opportunity to run away. Some things were just too much and too difficult to talk about. Especially when he was still kicking himself.
The tension in the room when he entered could be cut with a knife. Honestly, he felt sorry for Ezekiel, getting caught in a passive aggressive argument between Maggie and Rick.
“You can’t always make all the damn decisions Rick!” She shouted, eyes spitting fire as she stared Rick down on the opposite side of the table. “I’ve got just as much right as you to decide the future of my community!”
“And I ain’t arguing that!” He shot back, the old familiar ‘I’m right and burdened with knowledge’ expression clear on his face. “But you’re still new to this! I just think for our first big trade between all of us, there needs to be one person coordinating it.”
“What if someone doesn’t agree with your decisions huh? You just gonna ignore them? Again?!”
“I will if they can’t see the bigger picture!”
“Bigger picture?! Oh fuc-“
“Shut up!”
Daryl couldn’t stand to listen to anymore, shouting out before he realised he’d decided to get involved. Both of them turned to glare at him, chests heaving in anger, obviously dying to carry on their fight.
“This is pointless! You ain’t arguin’ about the trade and ya both know it! You’re wasting everyone’s time tryin’ to fight without sayin’ what you’re fightin’ about. This shit’s gone on long enough. Either talk about what you really wanna talk about or step back. Coz this ain’t helpin’ no one.”
They carried on staring at him. As much as he loved his brother, if he didn’t stop looking so damn surprised when Daryl opened his mouth, let alone when some sense fell out of it, he was going to punch him. Maggie thankfully wasn’t surprised at all, if anything she was relieved. She’d wanted an opportunity to have it out with Rick for months, to hear from his own mouth why she was denied her revenge and more than that, her peace of mind. Rick never gave her that opening before and when she tried, she was framed as causing trouble. Maybe now they could actually talk.
Maggie nodded, taking a calming breath and turning back to Rick. “Daryl’s right. How could you do that Rick? How could you keep him alive? After everything?! How could you betray me like that huh? Betray Glenn?”
“Betray? I never betr-“
The door slammed open, all of them turning to see Carol stood in the doorway, face pale. Her eyes went immediately to Daryl and he felt his heart stop. He knew in his bones something had happened at Hilltop.
“Carol? What is it?”
He faintly heard Maggie’s words, but he couldn’t do anything but keep staring at Carol, his whole body frozen in fear. She looked at Maggie, but her eyes returned to him.
“It’s Hilltop. It’s bad.”
———
When he was ever so kindly informed that he’d be staying behind to run Hilltop in Maggie’s absence, Paul was, in a word, unimpressed. In a few more words, he was absolutely fucking shitting himself.
He was not a leader. He had never been a leader. He never wanted to be a leader.
Paul was perfectly happy to do his thing behind the scenes, to do whatever odd job, dangerous or otherwise, that was needed. Yeah, he had to admit that he ran things behind the scenes when Gregory was in charge, but that was a necessity, something he only did because the place would have fallen to rack and ruin if Gregory was left to do everything.
But even then, it was hardly what could be called ‘leading’. Paul was self aware enough to know he could be a sneaky little shit when need be, not to mention his gift for gentle manipulation. Sure they were exactly what was called for in that situation but only ever behind the scenes, hardly being characteristics that made a good leader.
Not long after he’d turned up at Hilltop and took in the lay of the land, he realised Gregory had been put in charge largely because he gave off a veritable cloud of entitlement, bravado and a need to be ‘the boss’. It made scared people who didn’t have Paul’s skills at reading people, believe that he had the answers, that he’d know what to do. Honestly, they were lucky a real problem hadn’t swooped down on them long ago because there was no way Gregory could truly have lead them through it.
It didn’t take Paul long to realise that even with something as simple as a dwindling food supply and a lack of runners, Gregory and the whole community was starting to lose it. So he stepped in. He used all of his charm, all of his tricks to get people to like him quickly, to trust him. He worked his way in with Gregory and let the old man believe he was at his beck and call, even as his obvious relief at having someone to help was plain to see. Then he made sure the rest of the community knew to come to him before Gregory, so he could always make sure he pitched things to him in ways that he’d agree. The rest of his time and energy was then spent running around their ruined little world to get whatever was needed.
But no matter how much of a hand he had in keeping Hilltop going then, it was a vastly different arrangement to the one he’d found himself all but forced at gunpoint into now.
Because Paul was a part of the community now in a way he’d never been before. Yes he’d always genuinely liked the people at Hilltop, even as he sometimes despaired of them, but he’d always managed to keep himself separate from them. He liked to run too much, always had, and the idea of being any kind of constant to people was terrifying. To the people of Hilltop, he was a figure, a safe face that they could trust but didn’t feel any real personal connection to. How could they? They hardly knew him.
Then everything went to shit; Negan came, Paul found the Alexandrians, the war. All those things forced him to stick around, to let them in more, to let them see him. Months after the war had finished, Paul knew he was irrevocably linked to Hilltop and all its people in a way he’d never expected or even wanted.
Which made the idea of being responsible for everyone, even for just a little while, all the more terrifying.
What if he made mistakes? What if he wasn’t enough? What if his decisions or actions ended up spoiling the wonderful thing that Maggie was building? It was a responsibility he never wanted to have and certainly didn’t feel like he was good enough for.
Hell, though she’d never said it, Paul knew Maggie must have thought so in some way too. Daryl had been her first pick after all, not him.
But denying the orders of a very pregnant, very fierce Maggie and a haunted looking Daryl ended up too much for Paul to manage. Hence the shit situation that he was regretting and worrying about more and more as the hours since they’d left dragged on.
Paul’s only saving grace was his refusal to really change any of his day to day jobs, he’d just have more added on top. He moved around Hilltop as normal, working his way through his laundry list of jobs as well as dealing with the usual tasks of leadership. The thought of running the place from Maggie’s office nearly made him reach for the vodka he absolutely did not have hidden away in his trailer after Daryl shot-gunned it on a run but ‘lost’ in their escape from walkers. Despite knowing Daryl almost certainly figured out he’d stolen it, half the fun for them both was in the cat and mouse game to hide/find the bottle.
It wasn’t until the day was drawing to a close that he really allowed himself to admit he wasn’t all that looking forward for heading back to an empty trailer.
Daryl staying with him had been such an easy thing, something that neither of them really thought to question. It didn’t take Paul long to realise he actually liked it. His trailer had always been his safe place, the one bit of peace and solitude when he was within Hilltop’s walls. He offered it up to Maggie, Sasha and Enid without a moments hesitation and was glad he did, but he did miss his solitude.
What he told Maggie was true of course, he was used to having a lot of people around, but he never said he always enjoyed it. Surprisingly enough, having Daryl living there was just as comfortable as if he was on his own, a thought he refused to examine further for a long time, but that spoke volumes never the less.
As the sun began to set, Paul decided to stave off heading to his empty trailer a little longer by checking in on Mrs Williams. She’d lived in the trailer next to his since before he’d even arrived at Hilltop and despite her age, she was fierce. Not to mention one of their best cooks.
Paul knocked on her trailer, already hearing the hacking coughs coming from inside. The door opened, but it wasn’t Mrs Williams who stood there.
“Oh! Jesus, hi!”
The young girl at the door blushed, ducking her head and tucking her hair behind her ears. Maggie had gently alerted him to the fact he had an admirer after he noticed the girl kept staring at him and he had to admit, he found it adorable. Kathy had come over from Oceanside for a visit and somehow ended up staying. She was only thirteen and had no family left; her mother was killed early, right at the start and her father died when Negan attacked the community. After a few visits to Hilltop, she seemed to really fit in, though Paul was sure it had a lot to do with the woman still coughing away in her trailer.
“Hello Kathy, how’re you? Is Mrs Williams doing okay?”
Her blush faded a bit, worry clear on her face. “I don’t know, she won’t stop coughing. Sometimes she can’t even catch her breath! I’ve been making her tea and trying to bring her temperature down but nothing seems to be working.”
“It’s okay Kathy, I’m sure you’re doing everything you can. Could I come in and check on her?”
She nodded and stepped away, the two of them entering the small but incredibly cosy trailer. From the look of it, you’d never guess there was anything wrong with the world at all, the whole place just dripping in comfort and character. It was no wonder Kathy chose to stay.
“She’s in her bedroom. Wasn’t pleased about it, you know what she’s like, but she’s weaker than yesterday. Rest is the only thing I can think of right now. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you though.”
He thanked her and smiled, fondness rushing through him as she blushed again. Paul headed towards the bedroom, already not liking the sound of that coughing.
Paul knocked on the door and went inside, not wanting to force her to speak to admit him entrance. It was dim inside but when he got a good look at the woman lying in the bed, he felt worry settle deep in his stomach. She looked terrible, a far sight from the well groomed and sturdy woman she usually was; skin pale with flushed, sweaty cheeks, her breathing laboured between her hacking coughs. It really didn’t just look like a cough or even the flu anymore.
He walked forward and slowly lowered himself into the chair beside her bed. The fact it took her a few seconds to realise he was there, then a few more to even recognise him at all, worried Paul more.
“Hi Mrs Williams, how’re you today?”
He spoke gently to her, noticing how her face screwed up at the sound of his voice. She must have a hell of a headache too.
“Not too good Jesus,” she croaked, voice so horse and pained it was almost impossible to hear. “Just a cough though. Be fine soon.”
Whether she was trying to convince herself or him, Paul didn’t know, but he was sure it had moved well beyond the stage of a simple cough. With Siddiq travelling with Maggie in case of complications with her so far along in her pregnancy, he knew they couldn’t even get a professional opinion on her condition. And nothing they could properly do to help her. The thought sent a jolt of sadness through him, especially knowing what it would do to Kathy if Mrs Williams couldn’t fight the illness off.
Paul took her hand, noting how dry and papery it felt, and smiled at her. “When did you start feeling ill? How did it start? And what symptoms do you have?”
She shot him a tired grin. “You a doctor now too? Knew you were a man of many talents, but I was sure you ain’t been to medical school.”
“No, I’m not,” he admitted with a laugh, feeling a measure of relief that she was still herself enough to give him a bit of shit. “But if I can get a general idea of what happened, maybe I can figure out how to help. I might not be a doctor, but you may have noticed, I’m a pretty excellent scavenger.”
“Yeah yeah, you work miracles, yadda yadda.”
He laughed at her again, but quickly stopped as she started coughing into her handkerchief again, great hacking things that shook her whole body and didn’t seem to want to stop. Trying to keep his worry from showing on his face, Paul reached for her water jug, pouring her a glass and waiting for her to stop. When she finally did, he handed her the water with a smile, though she hardly seemed to notice either at first; all the coughing really sapped her energy.
Once she finally took the glass, Paul was able to see that the white of her handkerchief was stained red.
———
There were many times in Daryl’s life when he’d felt bone deep, blood freezing fear. He’d felt it a fair few times as a kid; stood outside his burning house not sure who was inside, when his daddy came home piss drunk and angry, when Meryl and his tweaker friends kept digging and digging at him, calling him names that hit a little too close. He’d felt it plenty of times after the end of the world too, more times than he could count.
But somehow, none of that measured up to the way his heart felt like it stuttered and stopped in his chest, his stomach twisting painfully, a heavy and cold concrete weight settling over his body.
“What is it? What happened?”
Daryl heard Maggie speak and was grateful for her ability to stay in control. He couldn’t even unglue his mouth.
Carol came inside and shut the door, moving to stand next to Daryl, subtly leaning into him, like she knew he needed it. Hell she probably did, Carol always seemed to have the measure of him, like some kind of sixth sense.
“A runner just came from Alexandria. They’re fine Rick, nothing happened there, but they got a message on the long distance radio from Hilltop.” She took a breath and Daryl tried to prepare himself for whatever it was he might hear, but whether he prepared or not, he knew whatever came out of her mouth next could finally push him over the edge, finally break him enough that he’d never put himself back together again.
He’d tried not to think about it before, he really had, denial had become his best friend recently, but as he stood there waiting for what could be world ending news for him, Daryl had to admit that not only did Hilltop mean everything to him now, but he knew he couldn’t stand to loose their temporary leader.
Somehow, Paul had become one of the most important people in his entire life; past, present or future. He needed him to be okay.
“It was Jesus. He needs Siddiq-”
Whatever was said after that was lost in the white, screaming fog in Daryl’s head. So that was that then. Something bad had happened at Hilltop. Paul needed Siddiq. Could be hurt. Could be- could be dead.
A hand grabbed his shoulder. He didn’t even flinch.
“Hey. Daryl? You with us?”
That was Rick’s voice. Even through his lingering feelings of betrayal and anger, he couldn’t help but take comfort from the familiar tones. He couldn’t even look at Maggie. Couldn’t handle seeing more pain on her face.
“Come on Daryl, we need you to focus here. This sounds similar to what happened at the prison. We need to get to Alexandria with Siddiq and figure out what to do. We’ll need you if we have to make a run.”
Prison?
“What?” He managed to croak out, voice sounding wrecked even to him.
“You hear any of that?” Rick asked, eyes narrowed as they roamed over Daryl’s face, like he was figuring something out. Daryl managed to shake his head in response.
Maggie nudged Rick out of the way, standing in front of him and grabbing both of his shoulders. She looked worried, scared, but not heartbroken. Not in the way she would have if-
“It’s not what you think Daryl,” she said quietly, leaning closer to him. “He’s alive. He’s okay so far as we know.”
If it wasn’t for her hands on his shoulders and Rick’s piercing, calculating gaze on him, Daryl was pretty sure his legs would have given out.
“What happened.” He forced out past numb lips, a strange rush of relief and renewed worry flowing through his body. Paul was alive. He was alive and whatever the problem was, Daryl would make sure he stayed that way, the rest of Hilltop too. Whatever it took.
“There’s been some kind of outbreak. An illness of some kind, sounds like the prison. People coughing up blood and high fevers so far. Hilltop’s been quarantined.”
Fuck, not that again. “Anyone dead?”
She hesitated before nodding, face downcast. “Yeah. I don’t... I don’t know who yet. The runner didn’t say. But yeah, people have died.”
Fear swelled in him again, but it was different now. He could still fight, could still go on a run to find meds, whatever was needed. That hopeless emptiness had drained away.
———
Things went downhill fast, faster than he’d ever thought possible even with the sparse details he’d managed to get out of Daryl about what happened at the prison. He knew they’d had an outbreak, a bad one, and that they lost the lions share of their community. Despite his nickname, Paul was far from religious, but even he couldn’t help but pray it wouldn’t get that far, wouldn’t get any worse than it already had.
Mrs Williams died first. He should have known, should have seen it coming, should have figured out how to stop it. But he didn’t. Paul let her convince him that it’d be fine, that she was an old lady who knew what a cough felt like, even if the blood she frequently hacked up was a concern. He should have known it was more serious.
He left that night, left her in the care of Kathy. How could he be so fucking stupid? It was all his fault.
Mrs Williams died and turned in the early hours of the next morning. She turned and Kathy was right there, sleeping in the chair by the old lady’s bedside. Kathy had thought she’d needed help. That’s what she’d babbled to Paul as he’d held her, blood gushing from the bite on her neck.
He’d heard her scream from his trailer, but only got there in time to put Mrs Williams down and drag her body off Kathy.
It was too late. He was always too late.
Kathy Brooke died in his arms after she was bitten by the woman who’d become her family. She was thirteen years old.
Things moved quick after that. It seemed like mere seconds after he’d finished burying them with his own two hands, that someone else got sick, then another, then a handful. Three days after Mrs William’s had died from it, they’d lost three more people and nearly half of Hilltop had started to develop the symptoms. Some were well on their way to what Paul believed was the end stage.
He’d sat with all but one of the people who’d died, he owed it to them. Their eyes didn’t bleed, so it couldn’t be the same as the prison exactly, but it wasn’t pretty. Joseph went next, a grumpy but kind older man Paul himself had found and brought back to Hilltop. Paul held his hand and talked to him as the high fever refused to be brought under control, blood and fluid filling his lungs until he just stopped breathing with a painful sounding shudder. Paul tried to bring him back, to give him mouthless CPR, but it was futile, he was already gone. He closed Joseph’s eyes and stabbed him in the brain, all the while remembering the man’s songs as he cared for the animals of Hilltop or tended the fields.
Paul knew them all too well now. He wasn’t separate from them anymore and it hurt even worse than he’d feared to lose them, to have to hold their hands and comfort them as they died, to bury them.
But no matter how much it hurt, no matter what the colder, self preservation focused side of him said, he was glad to have known Joseph’s songs and Mrs Williams’ cooking, glad to have a winter sweater that Janet had knitted him. He was glad to have seen Kathy’s sweet smiles.
“You should really take a break Jesus. You’re wearing yourself out too fast. If you go down, then where will we be?”
Paul looked up at Dante from where he was sat on the steps outside the infirmary, always on guard for people turning or someone calling for help. He’d have stayed right next to the sick permanently if he could, but he still had so many things to do and handle around Hilltop, especially during such a crisis.
But despite his exhaustion and bone deep worry, Paul pulled on a smile for Dante. He couldn’t let any of them see him break, he had to hold it together, hold everything together for them.
“I’m fine Dante, really. Just needed a breather. How are you feeling? Any symptoms?”
Dante thankfully shook his head. “Nah, I’m doing fine so far thank God. What about you?” His eyes narrowed as he looked Paul over. “You don’t look so good.”
“I’m okay Dante, honestly.” He said, trying to inject as much sincerity and reassurance into his voice as possible. “Just a little tired.”
It wasn’t a lie exactly. He just didn’t mention the catch he’d started to feel in his breathing.
———
They were packed and ready to depart within an hour, but even that felt decades too long for Daryl. Every minute that passed was another minute people at Hilltop could be suffering and dying. Every minute he didn’t know exactly what was happening physically hurt him, deep in his chest. He needed to be there, needed to know what he could do to help, to fix it. He needed to hear from Paul.
Maggie knew, she understood, grabbing his hand in hers whenever he felt himself drift off into panic. He needed to get it together, but it was harder than he’d ever admit.
If he got there and something was wrong with Paul, he’d never forgive himself. It was his fault Paul was left behind after all.
Fuck, he should have stayed, just like Maggie wanted. He should have sucked it up and not given in to his damn fear, that constant worry ever since the prison that anything and anyone he was left in charge of would end up dead or screwed. Daryl knew he’d fucked up so many times, it only felt logical that he’d continue that pattern.
He hadn’t even explained that to Paul, but in the end, he knew he didn’t have to. Paul always seemed to understand him, was always there to help or support him.
Daryl should have been there for Paul.
He knew the other man hated leading too, that it bothered him on a base level, the thought of so many people looking to him, depending on him in such an open way. It always confused Daryl, since he knew Paul had kept that whole damn community going before they’d met, but he should know that things like that didn’t always make sense and couldn’t always be reasoned away.
Paul had done so much for him, right from when they first met, the least he could have done was do that one thing for him instead of leaving him no choice but to do something that panicked him so obviously.
If he could just get to Hilltop and find Paul okay, he’d never be selfish again, never leave him to anything like that again. Hell, if Daryl had his way, he wouldn’t leave him period.
The journey to Alexandria was taking an age, Daryl constantly fighting the urge to just gun his bike all the way there and leave the others to catch up. He’d argued against going to Alexandria first, wanting to get to Hilltop and see with his own two eyes what was going on, but Maggie convinced him. They needed to hear from Hilltop first, to get a better idea what was happening before they turned up, not to mention collecting more medical supplies. The Kingdom had sent them off with some things that Siddiq had selected, but no community could spare a lot of their medical supplies, no matter how much they wanted to.
Still, the thought of not only being away from Hilltop for even longer, but having to actually step foot inside Alexandria again, set off a twisting feeling in Daryl’s stomach. He knew Maggie was dreading it too, as neither of them had been back since the end of the war. But for now, there were more important things than their feelings. Daryl had let his fear take over before and it had landed Paul stuck at Hilltop, he would not make that mistake again.
———
Two more days and everything went to hell. The virus that hit them sped up, taking more people with it. They lost four more people no matter what Paul tried; IV fluids, keeping their temperature down with elderberry tea, plying them with the ibuprofen that was left, anything he could think of. With his limited knowledge and supplies, that was all they could do. It just wasn’t enough.
It only seemed right that he should get struck down with the virus too. If he couldn’t save them, he should at least suffer with them.
Fitting though it was, Paul couldn’t deny that it fucking sucked. He was trying to keep it to himself for as long as he could, knowing that the people of Hilltop were looking to him to lead them, to help them. To save them. He didn’t want to scare them with the fact he was just as sick too.
He’d tried to radio Alexandria so many times over the past two days, but it must be off on their end. Eugene had done an incredible job setting up the long distance radio, but it was notoriously temperamental at times. Something must have happened to it that required repairs at exactly the worst time. Murphy’s law. All he could do was keep trying.
Declaring a quarantine on Hilltop was difficult, even if it was necessary. The as of yet healthy members of Hilltop had panicked, demanding to be let out, to be able to escape to one of the other communities. Paul had tried to keep everyone calm, to explain to them that even if they hadn’t gotten sick yet, they’d been exposed. They could be carriers, could spread it to the other communities, or they could just simply not have come down with it yet. Either way, he couldn’t risk the rest of their hard won world falling to a bastard virus.
Still, it didn’t stop a few from panicking and wanting to leave. Fear made people stupid, made them selfish, and in their minds it was worth it if they got away from the plague that had struck them. Which was why Paul was currently on watch at the gates, guarding Hilltop from people coming in or trying to get out. It was also the first time he’d managed to catch a breath, to be alone, since it all started.
Whenever a hacking cough came over him, he muffled it as best he could, waiting with the heavy sense of inevitability for the blood that would indicate he’d entered what looked like end stage. His head was pounding, his whole body ached and his rising temperature wasn’t helping anything. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew he should be resting with the rest of the sick, but Paul just couldn’t justify it, couldn’t accept making someone else pick up the slack, not when he was needed.
So he ran himself ragged; he barely slept, too worried that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to get himself going again, he checked on each of the infected and did whatever he could to help or simply comfort them, and he organised those still healthy, making sure they had everything they needed in Barrington.
All in all, he was utterly exhausted, tired on an entirely different level than he could ever remember being. Paul needed some quiet, needed to breathe in the fresh evening air and try not to worry about who the virus would take in the night.
But the downside of having a moment to think, was that Paul’s mind immediately turned to the two most important people in his life. The people that, should nothing improve, should no cure be found, he might have to leave.
Paul had never worried about leaving anyone before. Even before everything went to shit, he was always happy to pick up sticks and move on. Then after the world ended, people were loosing their families, their loved ones, their children, people far more important than him. He didn’t mean shit to anyone, wasn’t anything to anyone, so why would he be someone they’d miss? Even at Hilltop, Paul was an asset, someone who could get a job done. Sure, they might miss that they had someone in their group like that, but not him as a person. And he was perfectly okay with that.
Now? Now he had a whole community that had finally gotten to him, finally felt connected to him. He knew people all over their communities, would actually go so far as to call them friends. It was still strange to think he’d be missed if he died, but he knew he would.
If that was the extent of it, Paul would even find himself comforted by it, able to die knowing that his little, unimportant life would be remembered with fondness by a few.
But Maggie and Daryl? That was something entirely different. Paul couldn’t claim just a casual, warm friendship with them, couldn’t pretend they’d be sad for a moment or two then move on with him in their memories, to maybe be thought of from time to time.
He knew them too well, knew how much they’d already lost. For some reason, they’d both taken Paul into their lives, both cared for him, and he knew if he died, it would truly hurt them.
Maggie was the best friend he’d ever had, she was more like his sister really. He’d forgotten what it was like to have a family until she’d dragged him into her world, her confidence and her heart. He didn’t want to make her lose yet another member of her family. He wanted to be there for her when she gave birth, he wanted to see her baby, be their uncle. He wanted to be around to see what else she did with Hilltop, how else she made it flourish.
And Daryl. Fuck, if Paul saw him every day for the rest of his life, it still wouldn’t be enough. He never meant to get so attached, he really didn’t, but something about Daryl drew Paul in from the start and the more he learnt about him, the more time he spent with him, he felt that bond get stronger.
Paul was well aware of his own issues and shortcomings, and he knew he struggled getting close to people, so to end up latching on to Daryl, someone potentially even more closed off and issue riddled than himself, seemed beyond stupid. But it wasn’t, it just worked. It progressed so easily and so naturally that he barely even noticed it, only the surprised looks and odd comments from the people who knew Daryl well drawing attention to the fact Daryl was different with him.
Paul wasn’t stupid and he wasn’t blind, but for the longest time, he’d been sure it was only wishful thinking, just his shaky, inexperienced heart hoping that what he felt was returned in some way.
Then came the morning of Daryl’s departure, when they’d been a split second away from finally kissing.
———
Michonne was waiting for them at the gate as they finally, finally reached and entered Alexandria. She looked worried, an expression that rarely showed on her face, and the sight of it made Daryl’s legs feel weak.
Had something happened? Had they taken too long getting here? Had she heard from Hilltop again, from Paul?
He turned off his bike and didn’t even bother with the kickstand, just jumping off and leaving it lying on the ground as he stalked to Michonne.
“What happened?” He growled out at her, ignoring the looks he got from Rick and Maggie as they got out of the car, feeling like he could rip the world apart with his own two hands if it got him the information he needed.
Michonne didn’t react at first, just stared at him, examining him almost. It would have made him squirm if he wasn’t so keyed up. Rick and Maggie caught up, Carol and Siddiq following behind, the two leaders moving to stand to one side of him. Daryl could feel the way he was still being looked at, he just didn’t care.
“We should talk inside,” Michonne finally said, casting her eyes around her, drawing Daryl’s attention to the fact there were people milling around. Like he gave a fuck.
“No, tell me now!”
“Daryl,” came Rick’s calm but insistent voice as he stepped closer to him. “Let’s go inside so we can get all the information. There’s no point in scarin’ everyone right now. We’ll just get stuck dealing with worried people instead of focusin’ on what we need to do.”
He put a hand on Daryl’s shoulder but he shrugged it off, feeling like he was buzzing out of his skin, before stalking towards Rick’s house. He refused to look around at the almost rebuilt Alexandria, refused to notice when he walked passed Glenn and Maggie’s old place, refused to look at the house he’d had homemade spaghetti with Aaron and Eric. Refused to even mentally consider the house at the end of the street with the jail in the basement.
Being back in Alexandria was like someone quietly and methodically scrapping away at raw nerves, partially but not quite hidden under the all consuming fear eating away at him from Hilltop’s situation.
What details did Michonne know right now that he didn’t? She was obviously tense, obviously worried and fuck, the way she’d looked at him. Would she soon deliver the news that would break him down to dust? Would that morning at Hilltop be the last happy memory he had there?
“Daryl?”
Carol’s quiet voice next to him still made him flinch, too busy standing in front of Rick’s house and playing through the various ways his life could change any moment. He didn’t reply, just opened the door and headed straight to the big table, where they’d planned so many missions and runs, where they’d eaten or talked. Where they’d even interrogated a clever stranger. It seemed like a lifetime ago now.
The rest sat but Daryl couldn’t, feet glued to the floor as he stared straight at Michonne.
“Okay Michonne,” Maggie said, her voice full of the strength of leadership, a role she fitted like no other. “What’s happened.”
With a quick glance at Daryl, Michonne exhaled. “Yesterday evening we received a call from Hilltop. The radio had been broken for a few days and Eugene had only just finished it. It was from Jesus.”
Even his name set Daryl on edge, knowing that he was either sick himself or stuck doing a job he never wanted for this very reason. He knew the guilt and helplessness from watching the people of Hilltop succumb to the illness would be eating away at him.
Michonne told them what Jesus had said; that some highly contagious virus had broken out, that its symptoms were severe and had resulted in the death of eight people so far, with many more sick. Siddiq pressed her more on the virus’ details but she didn’t have any more to give. He started scribbling on his notepad regardless and Daryl hoped to fuck he was filling it with tried and tested ways to cure them all. Like they’d ever been that lucky.
Daryl felt sick, knowing how much the people of Hilltop must be suffering. He didn’t know who’d died yet and for now, he was glad of it. He knew everyone’s names now, cared for all of them in some way, losing any of them would be yet another cut on his scarred soul.
“What about Paul?”
The words were out of his mouth before he even realised it, all eyes turning back on him. Maggie’s face crumpled just a little, the same fear reflecting back at him and for a second he regretted he’d spoken at all. It was hard enough for her hearing about what was happening to her community without him reminding her that her closest friend was trapped there too. The person they’d both left there.
But he needed to know. If Paul was okay, Daryl could breath a bit easier, could get his head in gear for doing whatever needed doing to save Hilltop. If he wasn’t? Well, quarantine be damned.
Michonne studied him for a moment, dark eyes reading him too intently for his liking, before she squared her shoulders. “I don’t know Daryl, he didn’t say. He sounded tired.”
He didn’t reply, no one did, and moments later they were back to planning. Her answer should have reassured him, at least to some degree, but it hadn’t. Daryl knew damn well that Paul could be dying and he still wouldn’t say a word.
———
Paul was so busy trying to clear the blood from his airway that he almost missed Michonne’s voice coming through the radio.
“Jesus? Jesus is that you? Do you copy?”
With one last hacking cough, Paul was able to breathe a little better, spitting a mouthful of blood into a rag and scrambling for the radio.
“Yes! Yes, I copy,” he choked out, voice wrecked and chest tightening in agony as he spoke. “We’ve been trying to contact you for days!”
“There was a problem on our end, Eugene just got it fixed. What’s the problem?”
She sounded serious as always, but like many of them, she’d lost that crushing weight of fear and uncertainty that haunted all of them during the war. Paul hated that he’d be hearing it again soon.
He took as deep a breath as he could manage without choking again, nails scratching at the few small drops of blood that had fallen onto the desk. “There’s been a situation here. Some kind of virus outbreak.”
Michonne inhaled sharply, obviously remembering what happened at the prison. “How bad?”
“Bad. Seems to start as the flu, just a bad cough really, then it just... gets worse.” He suppressed a rising cough with all he had, swallowing the sickly taste of copper before he could speak again.
“High fevers, body pain and then just, blood filling the lungs. They seem to choke to death on it eventually. We’ve lost eight so far and more are sick than not now. I’ve put a quarantine on Hilltop, this virus spreads too quickly and I don’t want to risk the other communities. But I need to speak to Siddiq, try and get some idea of how to treat this. I’ve done all I know how to do, we all have, but his expertise is desperately needed now or... or I think we’ll lose even more.”
“Shit.”
It wasn’t often that Michonne swore, which further drove home how worried she was. Still, her calm, quiet strength was greatly needed right now. Every hour that passed made him sicker and sicker, temperature rising and body racked with pain, not to mention the blood slowly filling up his lungs. Paul was fighting it as best he could, even as he tried to look after everyone and keep Hilltop running, but he was well aware there was a good chance he just wouldn’t be able to anymore. He needed to know everything was set up, just in case.
“Siddiq is with Maggie at the Kingdom, I’ll send a runner at first light to alert them all. What do you need Jesus?”
Her tone nearly made him slump in relief. She sounded like he could ask for the moon and she’d find a way to make it happen.
“More IV fluids if you have them, we’re nearly out. If you have anything to bring a fever down, some ibuprofen, anything at all, we need it. I’ve been making them elderberry tea for now, I remember Maggie telling me that her father did that at the prison, but at most it’s just helping them hang on. After that, just whatever Siddiq can advise me on. It’s... it’s getting pretty desperate here.”
He almost admitted how afraid he was, how he was sure something he’d done or not done had led to this. He was scared and sick and hurting, his baser instincts crying out for comfort, for someone to take the weight from him and just let him rest.
Instead, Paul just swallowed down more bloody saliva and steeled himself. He would stay strong and in control until the exact moment he couldn’t hang on any longer. His very DNA didn’t allow for giving in, it never had.
“We’ll get them here as soon as possible Jesus. We have some supplies we could give you that should help, we just need to figure out how to get it to you.”
“I’d really rather no one comes into Hilltop right now, even briefly. We’ll organise a drop off and hope that it’s far enough away to avoid infection.”
He paused, one particular, sickening fear refusing to leave him. “Look... when Daryl gets there... please Michonne, don’t let him come here. He’ll want to, maybe try to, we both know that. But he can’t help. I don’t want him to get sick and... it’ll just hurt him. Keep him away.”
She was silent for a moment, before she exhaled heavily. “How sick are you Jesus?”
The question caught him off guard, even if it really shouldn’t have. Paul wanted to beg her not to tell Daryl, but to ask that of her would be cruel, both in confirming how serious it was and asking her to lie to someone she called family.
“I’m fine Michonne,” he said finally. “Just tired.”
She wouldn’t believe him, she wasn’t an idiot after all, but he had hope that she could read between the lines and yet also find it within herself to take the plausible deniability.
The fierce tightness in his chest was beginning to increase. He needed to get off the radio or else she’d hear.
“Look Michonne, I have to go now. Please get Siddiq as quick as you can and don’t let anyone into Hilltop, okay? And... tell Maggie I’m sorry.”
“Okay Jesus, I can do that. It’s not your fault though. Just hang on okay? All of you.”
He didn’t say anything before he cut the connection. He couldn’t have even if he wanted to.
The iron band around his lungs tightened and he started coughing, great agonising hacks that brought blood into his mouth.
Paul realised he was in trouble when he couldn’t get a breath back in. Black spots started to swim over his vision as he staggered out of the chair and towards the door.
His last thoughts before his legs gave out were of panic, worry and sadness.
Fuck he wished he could have seen Daryl again