Till Death Do Us Part: A Daryl Dixon Story (The Walking Dead)

40

I'm not sure for how long we just lay there, absorbing the words I'd uttered. Then Daryl moved away from me. Slowly at first, until all at once his body was missing from mine. I closed my eyes and bit my lip, bracing myself for his reaction. I shouldn't have waited this long to tell him. The minutes ticked by. I tried my best to keep still. I didn't dare sneak a peek at Daryl. Why hadn't he said anything yet? I heard his even breaths, the slight creak of the mattress every time he moved.

I need you to say something, Daryl.

The silence lingered. Even if he started to yell, even if he refused to believe me, anything would be better than him saying nothing. Maybe he was still trying to make sense of it all. Not even I had, to be honest. Daryl and I only recently reconciled. We still weren't at that point where we were before the fall of mankind, but I doubted that we'd ever get there again. What Daryl and I had now was fragile. Yes, we loved each other, but I think both of us knew –and silently ignored- that sometimes love isn't enough in this world. This pregnancy? It could either make or break us.

I thought of the life inside of me, and a confusing mixture of regret and happiness filled my core. How could we make this work? This world was poisonous. Even behind the walls of the prison. But on the other hand, how could we not make this work? A child is a gift, no matter what. Rick may not be the same focused leader I once woke up in a hospital room with, but every time he held Judith, I saw the reason why he kept going. Every time he was with Carl, I saw why he had purpose. His children were the driving force behind the man that he is. It was both admirable and scary. If they were to be taken away...would Rick be lost with them? Without a doubt. The fact that I'm soon to be in the same boat as Rick frightened me.

But I had Daryl. I hoped. He was still so eerily quiet from beside me.

Finally, I couldn't take his silence anymore. I swung my legs to the side and pulled myself from the bed. I stared down at him. He sat up slowly, his eyes never once leaving my abdomen. Maybe he was starting to put it all together now. Why I used to complain that my breasts were sensitive; that I asked him to be gentle with them during those nights in the warden's office. Why I used to sleep in longer than most –the fatigue catching up to me. The loose shirts, which he'd probably looked over before, all made sense to him now.

I left the cell, pausing only to make sure that Daryl was following. He was. I breathed out in relief. What would I have done he completely dismissed me? I stopped in the courtyard and sat at a bench. Daryl perched himself on the edge of the table. His expression was unreadable.

'Are you sure?' He finally asked. His voice was soft, quiet. I couldn't read much into it.

Instead of answering Daryl, I stood up. I slowly lifted the front of my shirt. Even in the dim light of the moon, Daryl's eyes widened at the sight of my protruding belly. He hadn't expected this.

'That first time we were together in the office,' I started. 'just as autumn ended...we didn't use protection.'

Memories of that night ran through my mind. We hadn't spoken the words, but both of us knew that it was time. Our bodies did the talking and in the heat of the moment, we'd forgotten about protection. It wouldn't matter, I told myself. It was highly unlikely for me to fall pregnant from one case of unprotected sex. And truth be told, it didn't even bother me that much. We used protection every other time. The weeks passed by and I actually forgot about it. Even when I was late, I thought nothing of it. Then the symptoms hit me. Fatigue. Tender breasts. My hormones at an imbalance.

The realisation had hit me like a tsunami. My first thoughts were asking myself how Daryl and I could have been so foolish. I wondered now if Daryl thought the same thing, as he realised just how far along I was.

'How –how far are you?' His voice broke a bit.

'15, 16 weeks?' I admitted, unable to meet his gaze, which had noticeably hardened.

'And you're only telling me now?' He pushed himself off the edge of the table.

Anger flashed in his eyes and the air suddenly became cold, so cold.

'I thought you'd figure it out.' I said.

How many times had Daryl wrapped his arms around my waist? And the times we bothered enough to strip naked in the warden's office? I hadn't shown as much as now, but still.

'I figured you were, you know...gaining weight?' He sounded so completely innocent that I had to stifle a giggle, despite the fact that this was a humourless situation.

What did Daryl know about pregnancy? Nothing, as I just came to realise. Nothing at all. I thought of how he handled Judith and it didn't matter. Even if Daryl wasn't the most informed about pregnancy, he seemed to know worlds about being a father. The thought comforted me. I didn't know every detail there was to know about pregnancy, but even I knew that I should be showing more than I was now. I figured I owed the minimal weight gain to my mother. Both of her pregnancies had been easy. Minimal symptoms. Hell, I'd basically skipped the whole morning sickness routine. I ate normally as well –no cravings or aversions. Like my mother, my bump didn't really show as much as it should. I partially owed that to her genes and to my keeping fit. Working at the prison, the runs I used to do, all that running and trekking I'd done last winter –it all kept me in shape. I'd once read somewhere that keeping fit during a pregnancy affected the size of the bump. This was evidently true in my case. It had been easy to hide my bump during winter. All those layers of clothing really helped. But summer was near. Secrets would be revealed in summer.

I sighed and moved past Daryl. I lifted myself onto the table top. Daryl joined me. We sat in silence for a bit.

'What do we do now?' He asked, his eyes on the stars above. 'Do we...tell people?'

I realised we spoke in a lot of question marks. What followed now was something neither of us had much experience in.

'I guess.' I leaned my head on his shoulder, relishing the comfort it gave me.

'Don't you worry.' Daryl said. 'It's all going to be fine.'

I smiled up at him and snuggled closer into his side. He wrapped both arms around me and pulled me into his chest.

Kissing the top of my head, he added. 'I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be saying this, but I couldn't be happier about this.'

Tears sprung into my eyes. I blinked them away, a few stray ones sliding down my cheeks. I sniffed. Daryl pulled me closer. What he did next took my breath away. His one hand slid down to rest on my abdomen. His fingers dipped underneath my shirt. The warmth of his touch against my belly caused even more tears to fall.

'Don't you worry about a thing.' He repeated, and only this time did I hear the underlined fear in his words.

What neither of us was saying chilled my bones. Pregnancy on its own is a tricky business. There used to be doctor appointments. Pre and postnatal care. The right type of foods to eat. An expecting mother could take time off to prepare for her upcoming delivery. She could rest, she could research and make sure she's fully prepared for what's coming. But in this world? None of the above was an option. The closest thing we had to a doctor was a veterinarian. The meats I ate ranged from squirrel to the very rare deer. Luckily, Rick and Hershel's vegetables would be my saving grace. But what if the sanctuary of the prison doesn't last and I'm eight months pregnant? How on earth would I be able to move about the woods and fight or dodge walkers then?

And then there was Lori.

She died during labour. Millions of women died during labour before the invention of modern medicine. And right now, modern medicine was a thing of the past. Daryl's arms around me tightened as if sensing my discomfort. In about 25 weeks this baby will come, whether we are ready for it or not.

But with Daryl by my side, we might just live through it. This time we might be parents.