Daryl's Angel: Saviour (Book Two)

Chapter 68: Sacrifice

It feels like it's been forever when the infirmary door opens.

I had asked Siddiq to stay upstairs, just in case, but he insisted on sticking around to help keep an eye on things. There's deep sympathy in his eyes when he looks at me and despite everything, I'm grateful for his help. He makes sure that I'm fed and hydrated while we hold vigil by Carl's bedside.

I wish he had maybe listened to me though, because Daryl and Michonne look at him like he's an intruder. I immediately get up, holding up one hand as I brace myself on my chair with the other.

"Don't do anything rash," I plead.

Daryl stares at me, Siddiq, and Carl in rapid tandem. Michonne sucks in a choked breath as she hurries past me to Carl's bedside, gripping his shoulder and staring at where most of his left arm should be in shock.

"He got bit while we were out helping Siddiq. We didn't have the means to amputate in the field, so we brought him back here," I explain, motioning to Siddiq when I say his name. I can already feel my voice choking up. Seeing Daryl, my frustration has reared its ugly head. "Where the hell were you?"

He blinks, lips parting, coming back to Earth. "Out. Taking care of the problem at the Sanctuary," he says, gruff.

"I thought the Sanctuary was handled already!" I retort. Tears well in my eyes, and I inhale hard through my nose. "I needed you here, Daryl! I needed you and once again, you were off doing whatever the hell you wanted!"

"Hope—" Michonne starts.

"I'm sorry," Daryl says. "I'm here now. I can help—"

A few tears roll down my face. "I had to give Carl a transfusion," I manage. I hope he knows what that means for me and our son. I'm another second away from completely falling apart, and I was doing so well too.

He stares at me as he comes closer, and his hand flits to my stomach. "Ain't that dangerous? For the baby?" he asks.

Him asking me that is the final straw, snapping that poor camel's spine clean in half. I let out an ugly sob and he catches me as I threaten to collapse, hauling me into his arms as tightly as he can. I wail into his chest, unable to stop the panicked, heaving breaths that quake from me between every cry.

He lowers us to the ground, still crushing me against him. When I manage to get words out again, they're jumbled and repetitive and still laced with the panic that's been settling in my chest since I stuck the needle in my arm.

"I'm sorry, Daryl. I couldn't...I couldn't choose the baby over Carl. It's Carl. I couldn't. I couldn't—"

"Fuck," he mumbles. "Hope, I'm...I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't here. I'm sorry I left you with no choice—"

"I basically k-killed our baby, Daryl—"

"Nah, nah, hold on," he says. He pulls away, cupping my face, making me look him in the eye. "It ain't a guarantee, right? It ain't a death sentence."

"B-But—"

"Come on, angel face. Have faith," he pleads. "You gotta have faith. Please."

I nod weakly, sinking back against his chest as he strokes my hair, strong arms holding me steady. Faith, I think. It's been one of the few things I've managed to keep from the world before. Hearing Daryl plead with me to have faith, though...it sounds like he has it too, for once in his life.

Daryl keeps calming me down, urging me to breathe. I should feel foolish for crying so hard, but I have good reason to, and when I look back at Michonne, there are tear tracks on her face, too. She grips Carl's remaining hand tightly as she pets his hair.