in a dark meadow -- daryl dixon

the rest of our lives

word count: 4954

Within 12 hours of treating them, Avery found herself amongst the sick.

She quickly escorted herself to the quarantine zone after her conversation with Rick, rejecting his help when he offered. She didn't look for Daryl before she left, because as much as it pained her, she knew she needed to keep her distance from him.

By the time she made it to the cell block, her energy was drained, and she collapsed onto the first unoccupied cot she could find. The symptoms hit her like a suckerpunch - chest-rattling coughs leaving her gasping for air and a white-hot headache that seemed to fray her thinking. She curled up onto her side, shivering, but when she adjusted her position, she found the cot to be soaked with sweat.

Twice she tried closing her eyes to rest, but both times she startled herself awake. Her fever-induced brain morphed human-like shapes in the dark that weren't actually there, insisting that someone was in the cell with her, about to kill her.

Caleb came to visit her at one point but she waved him off, insisting she was fine and that he check on the others. He did not argue, but promised to check up on her later. Hershel stopped by shortly after, offering a hot (lukewarm, really) cup of tea to soothe sore throat, to which she sipped gratefully.

At some point amongst her fevered haze, Avery heard muffled shouting, likely coming from outside the block. She moaned, the noise disturbing her attempts at sleeping, and she rolled over onto her side.

"You have a visitor," Sasha groaned from the next cell over.

Inhaling through her nose, Avery found what little strength she had left and dragged herself off the cot. Her world spun, and she gripped onto the cell bars until everything went still again. She swayed lightly as she made her way to the front of the cell block, where a glass window divided this cell from the outside corridor.

"Ave! Avery!"

Even from behind the glass, she could hear the panic in Daryl's voice. There was dull thumping, likely from him pounding his fists against the window, until she finally rounded the corner.

He froze when he saw her, his fist hovering over the glass.

She shuffled into the room and collapsed onto one of the chairs. Even through the window, he could see the way her clothes clung to her clammy skin. Everything about her - the wave in her hair and the green in her eyes, had been dulled.

"Don't look at me like that," Avery's voice shook. She was one breath away from crumbling onto the concrete floor in tears. She needed to be strong, but seeing his dejected expression - it confirmed she looked as bad as she felt.

She bent over, coughing harshly. Daryl stepped forward, his instinct to protect, but the glass cruelly separated them. He grimaced as she gasped for air, heart in his throat as he could do nothing but watch. When she straightened again, her face looked a little paler, and a strand of hair clung to her forehead. His fingers twitched by his side, feeling the overwhelming need to brush her hair from her face.

"It's worse than it sounds."

"'M sorry, Ave." He muttered. His voice was small, weak - breaking her heart. He spoke as if he were somehow to blame for all of this, trying to think of ways he could've prevented it from happening. She wasn't supposed to be in here. She couldn't be sick. "I shouldn't have... Fuck, I-"

"It's okay, Daryl."

He clenched his fists, angry at himself. Why the hell was he letting her comfort him? She needed his strength. He knew that.