Daryl's Angel: Saviour (Book Two)

Chapter 55: Still Breathing

We arrive at Hilltop the next morning, park our van, and walk the rest of the way up to the gate. I see a figure in a white shirt standing at the guard tower, and she turns to shout something I cannot make out as we approach.

The gates swing open, allowing us inside, and Maggie stands before us, clean and glowing. Just seeing her healthy again does wonders for my heart. Rick embraces her tightly, and she returns it.

"You're okay?" he asks.

"I'm okay," she replies as she pulls away, although she holds onto his shoulders. "The baby's okay—all of us."

"You were right," Rick says. "Right from the start. You told us to get ready to fight. I didn't listen, and I couldn't. I can now."

Maggie smiles a little as she squeezes his shoulders in reassurance, then looks past him at the rest of us. There's a glint in her eye, excitement, and she jerks her chin to the side as if to guide our eyes. I follow her gaze just as two men emerge from behind one of the barns: Jesus and Daryl.

My brain double-takes. My body freezes.

Daryl?

For a moment, I stand dumbly, registering that it's really him I'm seeing, but who else could it be? Who else could it be behind that shaggy brown hair but my Daryl Dixon? I ask myself this, as if I wouldn't know him blind and deaf.

We lock eyes, and I nearly trip over my feet as I race to close the distance between us. He rushes to meet me, arms open, and we collide so hard that I knock him off his feet. He grunts as we tumble into the dirt, but his hold on me stays tight as I bury my face against his neck and finally let myself sob freely.

I hear his breath shuddering against my ear as he clings to me. "Hope," he rasps. "The hell you doing out here?"

I let out a laugh through my tears. "Says you!"

We untangle just long enough to get up, but then he's hauling me back into his arms. I stay pressed up against him, cupping his face and pushing his hair out of his eyes, soaking him in. Part of me can't believe he's really here. He escaped, somehow, against all odds, and I...

And I was seriously considering taking Negan up on his offer if Daryl's imprisonment went on any longer. Thank the Lord for interfering before I made that mistake.

He closes his eyes as he overlaps my hand, pressing it to his cheek, kissing my palm, touching our foreheads together. His mouth quivers, eyes wet with emotion, and I reflect it all back at him. I can't get close enough. I can't look at him enough.

"I'm so sorry," he says, his voice ragged. "Should'a listened to you. I never should—"

"I don't care anymore. I just wanted you back," I insist. His poor face is so beat up, his lip split, eyes tired and lined with dark circles, and I gently kiss the corner of his mouth. "But if you ever try to hit me with a motorcycle again—"

He shakes his head as he presses his forehead to my shoulder, his body shuddering again. "I'm sorry," he repeats. "So fuckin' sorry, Hope. Fuck, I don't deserve ya."

"All is forgiven, Daryl," I whisper, kissing his hair. "I promise."

I suddenly recall that we're not alone and I'm not the only one who loves Daryl here. I force myself to pull away from him, to stop touching him, and look back at the group to find the others hugging Maggie and Sasha. Carl and Enid move towards each other but stop just shy of touching, Enid suddenly looking away as she tucks some hair behind her ear.

Rick approaches Daryl and me, and I back up as they embrace. They hug, the backs of their shirts bunching up as they grip each other tightly.

"How?" Rick asks.