Chapter Text
"Daryl?"
The sound of thick, choking coughs arose Carol with a start. After rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she rolled over onto her side to face her best friend. They'd started sharing a bed as a way of combating the nightmares that plagued them both. Apart, the images of Glenn's eye bulging from his skull, Dale's intestines bouncing from his body and other gruesome scenes from their past haunted them. Huddled together, back-to-back, they knew that they were safe. Nothing could ever come between them, and nothing could hurt them.
Except for illnesses, that is. Daryl had not been so feeling well for the past few days. But they hadn't worried too much about it. It just seemed like a cold. Headaches, congestion, it wasn't anything too major.
Until now. Daryl sounded like he could not even breathe. His breaths were raspy and uneven. In between fits of coughing, he'd begun to wheeze. It frightened Carol. His whole body shook when he coughed. It was awful.
Carol placed her hand on his forehead. He pulled away from her, which dealt her a wicked blow. It had been such a long time since Daryl had refused her touch. When they first became friends, Daryl used to recoil from Carol. It was a defense mechanism, a terrible result of all the abuse he'd suffered. Over time, though, Daryl had grown very affectionate with Carol. They hugged and held each other often.
So it was demoralizing for Carol to be rejected by Daryl, but she tried not to take it to heart. Men could be the biggest babies when they were under the weather. And she'd felt the heat radiating off of his skin enough to know that there was something very wrong.
"C'mon, let's go see Siddiq," Carol suggested.
"No," Daryl huffed, his deep voice almost inaudible now. "I'm fine."
"Don't make me kick your ass," Carol needled him.
She smiled, but it faded when he gave her no reaction. Of course, Carol knew that Daryl hated doctors. She couldn't blame him. Dr. Jenner had turned the CDC building in Atlanta into a modern day Jonestown. At the farm, Herschel had had to stitch Daryl's head and side without any painkillers. Even before all that, Daryl was very shy about anybody seeing his body because of his scars.
She didn't want him to be sad or scared. But Carol was not about to risk losing her best friend. He meant everything to her. Carol loved Daryl more than she could even understand herself.
With the limited food and heat they had and without the best in medical care, there was a very good chance that a simple illness could become lethal. It was like when they were living in the prison. So many people died in the epidemic who would have been just fine before the apocalypse.
Carol was not taking any chances with Daryl. He was going to get better. He was not going to leave her. He couldn't. She wouldn't let him.
Daryl closed his eyes and pulled the blankets up over his neck. Despite being under several layers of covers, he was still shivering. Chills. But she knew that he wasn't just trying to block out the cold. That was his way of showing that he wanted to be left alone and that he was not going to the infirmary.
So, Carol decided to take matters into her own hands. She quickly stripped off her pajamas and changed into her grey-green pants, her pink button up shirt and her black military boots. It didn't faze her to change clothes in front of him anymore. He was her everything, the one person in the world that she felt completely comfortable around.
Before she left, Carol planted a soft kiss on Daryl's forehead. His fever burned her lips. When he did not stir, she knew she had to get him help as soon as possible.
Carol tiptoed out of the large Colonial style house she shared with Daryl. The streets of Alexandria were already bustling with friends tending to the day's chores. Negan waved to her as he picked juicy red tomatoes from the vine. She gave a curt wave back, too worried about Daryl to pay much mind to the former savior. Except to notice that Lydia was practicing with her staff in the garden beside Negan as he harvested; Daryl would be angry if he saw Lydia with Negan.
"Hey Carol! You alright? You look anxious," Negan called out to her.
Negan and Lydia stopped what they were doing and waited for Carol's answer. They were both staring at her with matching dark eyes that exposed the pain in their souls. Carol considered telling them. At the very least, Lydia deserved to know. And everyone in Alexandria would find out soon enough anyway. But Carol was still unsure of the depths of her trust in Negan, and she would never gossip about Daryl to anyone. Nor did she want to worry Lydia, who cared for Daryl as well.
"I'm fine," Carol lied.
Then she continued on her way. She zig-zagged around other Alexandrians and prayed that none of them would try to converse with her. She needed to get the doctor and return to Daryl. She wasn't big on chit chat with most of them anyhow. They had nothing in common, very little shared history.
Most of the Alexandrians avoided Carol. They were wary of her hair-trigger temper. She'd tried to kill Alpha against Michonne's orders. She'd broken Ezekiel's heart. She'd abandoned Alexandria and all of the people she loved for the romance and independence of the Kingdom. Not to mention it was well known that she had a few screws loose.
But she didn't care what any of them thought about her. She did not need them. All that mattered to Carol was Daryl.
When she reached the infirmary, she pounded on the door. Since Siddiq was trying to coparent baby Coco with Rosita, he'd been having trouble balancing work and home life. It was the same as any new parent. But Carol had no patience for it today. If he didn't answer the door in two minutes, she would break the door down and drag him by his unkempt hair.