Trespassing (Daryl Dixon x OC)

Truce

"Stay alive for me."

Carl and I finally returned home. Rick was still out cold but breathing. Everything over the last few days have been nothing but an absolute mess and it felt nice to have some kind of peace for the time being, even if it was just for five minutes.

"Those shoes fit you good," I told Carl. We both sat on the floor against the couch, wanting to stay close to Rick.

"Yeah," he agreed.

The stillness of the night emanated throughout the house. Today was taxing on both Carl and myself. By now, we could easily read how the other was feeling and gauge what type of conversation to have and when to have it. We were both drained, barely even keeping ourselves awake here now. I wanted to tell him to go upstairs and sleep but knew he wouldn't listen. He wanted to keep both his father and myself safe and that's something I couldn't really argue with.

There was a small grunt-like sound from behind us. Carl and I both turned to look at his unconscious father, curiosity eating away at us. He made another similar sound followed by a small twitch in his fingers. Holy shit.

"Belle," Carl called despite me being right next to him. The fear that made his voice tremble broke my heart.

He continued this way for a few minutes, further throwing me and Carl into several different modes of panic. The moonlight through the cracked blinds was the only source of illumination in the room, or house, for that matter. Carl and I backed ourselves away as Rick gradually began flailing more, his grunts becoming more frequent.

I haven't seen something like this since my father turned. Having to witness it again broke me in ways I couldn't even begin to describe. Rick pulled me right in and has believed in me since the beginning. After everything we just lost, I couldn't bear to lose him, too. Not now. Not like this. Not in front of his son.

I held Carl to my chest, both of us sobbing messes over the sight in front of us. Rick had fallen off the couch, now slowly crawling his way over to us. If this is how it had to be, then so be it. Carl held his gun in his shaky hands, the barrel aimed right for his father. His own blood. I held the boy tightly as if trying to hold all his broken pieces together.

"Carl," Rick strained out. Carl instantly dropped his gun, leaning his head back against my chest. We both let out sighs of relief knowing his father was alive.

"There should be water bottles on the kitchen counter," I told Carl. "Go grab one." He did as he was told and once he was gone, I scurried over to Rick.

"Hey," I said, placing Rick's head in my lap, "can you hear me?"

"Belle," Rick asked.

"Yeah, yeah it's me," I replied, a few tears escaping me. I pushed the few sweaty ringlets of hair out of his face as he continued to let his eyes open.

Carl rushed back into the living room and handed me an open water bottle. I propped up Rick's head and held the bottle to his lips, giving him the hydration he so desperately needed. After twenty minutes and a whole bottle of water, Rick, Carl, and I were sat on the couch together.

"How long was I out?" Rick asked.

"Few days," I answered, looking over to see him rub his eyes. "Carl," I said to the boy, "go upstairs and get some sleep."

"No," he protested, "I want to help."

"Carl," I countered softly but sternly, "it's late and we need at least one of us well rested."