Muted // A Daryl Dixon Fanfiction

•Chapter One Hundred & Seven•

M U T E D

Season 8

Bobbie's Point of View:

I held tight of Carl as we see the Saviors stand over the grate, trying to decide which way they should go to find us. Once they left, I lower my head onto Carl's shoulder.

"Your ear." He says breathlessly, pointing to the blood. I shrug it off, telling him it was okay. He furrows his brows and raises his right hand, snapping his fingers next to my left ear. "Can you hear that?" He asks. I force a smile and put his hand down.

"Y-You-You're-"

"It'll be fine. We have to keep moving." I motion to him.

"Right." He says. We both fall back and walk through the tunnels before spotting Siddiq and the others. I look around and find Judith in one of the caretakers arms. I huff out a smile and pick her up from her arms, Judith wrapping her tiny arms around me with a smile on her face. Thank god she's okay.

Carl and I sat down as we waited for Rosita, Daryl, Tara, Dwight, Michonne and Rick to get to us.

"Carl." Carl and I stand up and see the others coming our way. Each of them hugging us.

"Where's Michonne?" Carl asks.

"She's up there. I think she went looking for your dad." Rosita says.

"B." I hear. I turn my head and see Daryl approaching me. I show him a smile and quickly walk over to him, throwing out one arm and hugging him tightly.

"You okay?" He asks. I simply nodded my head before kissing his lips.

"Bobbie?" I turn behind me and see Siddiq standing there. He swallows hard and shows a face. It was as if he wanted to speak to me privately. I took that moment and turned around, giving Judith to Daryl. He takes her without question and I follow Siddiq.

"It's Carl." He whispers. I furrow my brows in confusion at his words. "He's...I think he's hurt." He says.

"Hurt?" I question him.

"He-He's sweaty. He's pale. He's hurt." He says. I furrow my brows and quickly get to Carl. I easily spotted him, siting down against the wall, looking pale and sweating profusely like Siddiq said he was. I kneel down to Carl and grabbed his hand.

"Hey...Bobbie." He says weakly.

"Are you hurt? What's wrong? What happened? Was it the bombs?" I ask him. Carl huffs out a breath, his mouth forming into a smile and his head shaking.

"No. Not that." He breathes. His breathing was heavy, as if he was quickly losing it. It only took me a moment to realize he was lifting up his shirt, pulls down a white bandage and reveals a bite mark clear as day on his torso. My brows stitch together and my jaw begins to chatter. I began shaking my head in disbelief. Every moment I spent together with Carl, I tried to figure out when it happened. In the moment, I couldn't think.

"It's not as bad as it seems." He weakly shrugs. My eyes are pulled away from the bite mark as he covers his torso with his shirt.