Unglued (Desus)

Chapter Twenty

Notes: If you're curious, Jesus has 4 weeks left. Think he'll make it? ;)

"We're on easy street, and it feels so sweet...."

Daryl banged his head against the concrete wall. Blood dripped down the side of his face.

A note slid underneath the door, and he hesitantly picked it up.

It said, "Go now."

He stared at it. It had to be a trick. He would escape, they would drag him back, and then it would be 20 times worse.

He couldn't stay here, though. Not much longer. He'd rather die. And he'd be willing to die, if the group were safe. But they weren't. He needed to at least try to escape, for their sake.

Daryl pushed the door open slowly, cringing as it creaked. The hallway was deserted, and he began to walk quietly towards the exit.

Voices came from a few feet away, and Daryl ducked into an empty room, heart hammering.

He heard someone coughing and choking.

"Where is he?" A familiar voice demanded.

Daryl inched closer to the door, listening intently.

"I can't tell you-" Dwight sputtered.

Daryl heard a crack, followed by a whimper.

"You'll want to remember just who you're fucking with, dear."

Paul.

Daryl wanted to scream at him. He wanted to yell that it wasn't safe here, that he needed to leave now.

But he stayed behind the door, frozen.

"He left. I don't know where. Please..." Dwight begged.

There was a crash, then a moment of silence.

Through the crack of the door, Daryl could see Jesus walking towards him, spattered in blood.

Daryl swung the door open, relieved Paul was okay.

Jesus jumped, startled, and swung his knife out of instinct. It hit Daryl's shoulder. He closed his eyes, overwhelmed by pain.

"Daryl? Oh my god! Daryl, are you okay? No, you're not okay, I just stabbed you. I'm so sorry! I thought you were someone else and I-" he was cut off as Daryl smashed their lips together.

Paul's eyes widened as the breath was knocked out of him.

Daryl pulled back as Paul continued to stare at him, open mouthed.

"I love you" Paul blurted.

Daryl felt his own eyes widen, and he took a step back. His thoughts were a jumbled mess. They had never...he had never... Paul had never said that before.

"You just stabbed me." He protested, still not quite believing what he had heard.

"I already said that I didn't mean to, and-"

"I love you too."

Daryl woke with a start. He was sitting next to Jesus, leaning against the tree in front of Hershel's grave. Jesus gave him a concerned look.

"Good nap?" He asked.

Daryl frowned.

"You shouldn't have let me doze off like that. There's work to do."