WITH YOU | TWD

[39] THE MELODY

She believed she was losing her mind, hearing the melody but unable to locate its source. Despite confirming it wasn't her brother, the mystery persisted: who else knew the tune? The revelation arrived during the somber task of digging graves. Bob grinned at her, the melody emanating from his lips as he worked on his own plot.

"Nice melody," Charlie said, leaning on her shovel, whipping cold drops of sweat from her forehead. It was hot and humid that day - perfect wearing to work physically. "How do you know it?"

"In my unit was this one guy," said Bob. "Tall, muscular, looked like a star. A good friend," he smiled. "And he was whistling this song over and over again. I was slowly going crazy... So I asked him one day: why are you doing this to me?"

"What did he say?"

"Family," he said. "He told me this melody was bringing him back home," Bob said. Charlie's lungs squeezed and the air couldn't enter or leave anymore. "But my my...what was his name?"

"Finn?" Charlie choked out.

"Finn?" Bob furrowed his brows and started thinking. "No. Let me thi...Luke! His name was Luke!"

Darkness.

"Hey!" Daryl called as he saw Charlie approaching him when he was fixing a car. He was worried when he heard about her fainting, so obviously he was relieved that she was on her own legs again. "You good?"

"I was tired," she nodded with a faint smile.

"You sure?"

"Too much sun," she reassured him. Then she looked at the car and she furrowed her eyebrows. "You going somewhere?"

He looked back at her, thinking whether he should answer her with truth or to lie. Charlie was still pale and weak, so he couldn't worry her with what he was about to do, so he decided to lie. "Hershel needs something."

"Be safe."

"I'm not going alone," he said.

"So be safe even more," Charlie smiled as honest as she could. She knew that those people knew what they were doing, however, sometimes a moment was enough time get killed.

In an instant, dizziness swept over her, accompanied by a tightening in her chest. She sensed an internal disturbance, acknowledging that something was amiss within her."Have to find Tyreese," Daryl said and closed the hood. He looked at her one more time and furrowed his eyebrows. "You sure you good?"

"Yes," she nodded and placed her hand on his bicep as he was close to her. "Just come back fast."

He nodded, touching her hand and passed her to look for Tyreese.

Once he disappeared she coughed and after a moment she felt something wet on her hand. She looked at it and saw a bloody stain, felt her legs going weak and the last thing she remembered was rather painful fell on the ground.

——

Charlie stumbled through the dimly lit corridors of the prison, her steps faltering with each labored breath. The faint glow of the flickering lights cast eerie shadows, intensifying her sense of urgency. With each passing moment, her strength waned, but the thought of succumbing to illness within the confines of her cell spurred her onward. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Charlie reached the entrance to the designated sick ward. Collapsing against the cold metal door, she pounded weakly, praying for salvation, her breaths came in ragged gasps, each one a struggle against the tightening grip of panic. With every step, a violent cough wracked her body, sending droplets of blood splattering onto the cold, concrete floor.

Hershel's expression twisted with fear and concern as he rushed to her side, his hands trembling as he reached out to steady her. "I guess I'm sick," she said to him.

"We need to get you stabilized, now."

Hershel, normally composed and unflappable, watched in horror as Charlie's coughs wracked her body, each one seemingly more violent than the last. He could see the fear in her eyes mirrored in his own, knowing all too well the implications of her coughing up blood.

"Charlie, stay with me," Hershel urged, his voice betraying the fear gnawing at his insides. He knelt beside her, his hands hovering uncertainly over her quivering form. Charlie's coughs subsided into ragged gasps as she struggled to draw in each labored breath. She met Hershel's gaze with haunted eyes, her own fear mirrored in his.

"I... I can't... breathe," she managed to choke out between rasping breaths, her voice barely a whisper.

Hershel's heart clenched with a mixture of anguish and desperation. He knew that time was of the essence, that Charlie's life hung precariously in the balance.

Charlie opened her eyes and smiled weakly as he saw Hershel kneeling next to her and helping her drink water from a cup. She coughed and tried to got up. "I'm fine."

"Why haven't you came earlier?"

"So someone could burn me like a witch?" she snorted and a cough escaped her mouth.

"Keep this on your forehead," Hershel said and placed a cloth on her forehead. "Veterinarian's order."

"This sucks," she said and looked at him. "In a time of apocalypse I will die out of cold."

"Don't say things like that," Hershel said in father's voice. "Don't even think things like that."

She looked at him with a smile and a big heart. From the moment she met him, he treated her with nothing but kindness and now he was taking her as if she was a blood of his blood, a flesh of his flesh. It was bringing a wave of nostalgia and pain, but as much as she felt those negative feelings, she missed her real father - who was cold as a stone, as distant as the stars, and as absent as a ghost. "You know...My dad was never there," she said and her face turned sad. "Thank you."

"It's okay now. Don't think about it,"

"Yeah," she nodded. "I will see them soon."

Charlie leaned her head on the wall as its coldness was giving her relief. "We got this far somehow, you can believe somehow. Now we all have jobs here. That one's yours."

He moved away her hair in a loving gesture. She closed her eyes in a bliss, her body relaxed under his touch. Because some wounds can't be healed, no matter how long it would pass. The absence would be felt more than the presence.

And then she heard the whistling again.