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I am afraid you’re dying
Sleep. That’s all I want. Just sleep. Not just because I’m tired, both physically and emotionally, but because it’s a way out of here. A way back to Daryl.
I miss you.
I never believed in things like this – reading each other’s mind, communicating without words, knowing how someone else is feeling even over the distance.
I tried this countless times in all the years Lori and I were together, but it never worked. She never heard me. She never saw me.
After I met Daryl, I came to realize that things like these do exist, if one has the right person by their side. We’ve been able to communicate silently for the longest time and sometimes, I could swear, we just need to look at each other to know what the other is thinking.
What I experienced the other night went way beyond all this.
We found a way to each other, in our sleep, in our dreams. I saw him, talked to him, touched him in the few merciful minutes he had dozed off, before that gruesome song started to play again and woke him up.
Last night I fell asleep too late. Just got a short glimpse of Daryl lying on the floor next to the Polaroid of Glenn, the disgusting dog food sandwich and his vomit. Did he cry himself to sleep?
I wanted to be there with him, if that is the only thing I can do for him at all. Wanted to reassure him again, that he’s loved and not alone in all this. He needs to hold on, so we both won’t lose hope. But the moment my soul went travelling and reached him, Dwight opening the door woke him and sent me right back to where I came from. Alexandria.
I can’t even refer to it as home anymore. It was home when Daryl was there with me. Now it’s a dark and lonesome place and I was a fool not to realize earlier who made the difference.
Negan came calling today to get his first offering. And to give another demonstration of the Saviors’ strength, so we won’t even think about ignoring the rules.
The moment I saw Daryl, I knew it was real, knew it hadn’t been just a dream. How else could I have known he’s wearing that prisoner overall with the orange A?
I try to relax. Breathe deep a couple of times and try to still my racing heartbeat. Sleep. I just need to sleep. Sleep…
When I open my eyes again, I see the gray, cold concret walls and in the twilight there’s a familiar figure huddled in the far corner of the cell.
“Yer late”, he says in greeting and I can’t help the smile that is tugging at the corners of my mouth.
A little friendly bantering never hurts. The moment my eyes have adjusted to the dim light, I see his eyes and know he wasn’t teasing. Time is short. That music is going to wake him again any moment now – and he’s dreading that moment.
“I’m sorry”, my own voice sounds alien to me, “Judy wouldn’t go to sleep.”
“Li’l Asskicker”, he says almost tenderly and I think, this time I see the hint of a smile on his face. “She alright? And Carl?”
I nod.
“She doesn’t even know what’s going on. And Carl …” I shrug. “He’s angry and frustrated, just like the rest of us, but he’s growing up in this world. He’s probably coping better than we do.”
We don’t even have to ask if the other one was alright. We both know we’re not.
“'Twas good seein' ya today”, he says almost inaudibly and I know, how hard it must have been for him.
Being home, being there with us as one of them, knowing that after this brief visit and witnessing new humiliations and threats, after more pain, he would return to this cold, lonesome cell.
“It was good seeing you, too”, I answer just as softly. “I just wish there’d been anything I could do to persuade Negan to let you stay.”
“Ain’t gonna be that easy. He’s havin' too much fun with that sick, perverted li’l game he’s playin' with us.”
“Why didn’t you say anything? Maybe he would have …”
“What, Rick?” His inflection is sharper now and his eyes bore into mine. “Did ya really think there‘s anything, anything at all I coulda done or said that woulda made him give you what ya wanted? It was a test, no more. He never intended ta lemme go. But if I’d said anything, things around here would be twice as bad for me now.”
I grit my teeth in frustration, wondering how things could possibly get any worse for him than they already are. But I know, he’s right. It was foolish to even ask, but I had to try. They took all of our guns and lots of our furniture, threatened Olivia’s life, taunted and humiliated us to no end, so I figured we deserved something in return. It would have been an unfair deal and maybe Negan was aware of it, because the entire town and all our stuff and things don’t mean half as much to me than Daryl.
“I just want you back”, I croak out.
I take the few steps over to Daryl and lower myself to the ground in front of him. Before I get the chance to say any more, his face becomes a stony façade.
“Don’t. Don’t kneel, Rick. Never again. To no one and … just don’t.”
I sit down instantly and scoot over to him, till we sit shoulder to shoulder, quietly, the way we did the night after the Claimers. He saved me back then. And although it’s him being held prisoner in this cell, right now I feel like he was saving me again, just by being there. By looking at me as though he still believed in me.
“I hate being this way”, I say tonelessly.
“Yer doin' the right thing. We ain’t gonna live like this forever, but for now … ‘s okay, Rick. Yer doin' what ya have ta do.”
For a moment there’s silence between us, then I hear him breathe deep and whisper hesitatingly:
“Maggie ain’t dead, right?”
There’s tears in his voice and my head whips around to him. I know there’s plain shock on my face when I realize, that no one had a chance to fill him in on Gabriel’s little scheme.
“No”, I gasp, “no, she’s in the Hilltop. She’ll be alright, don’t worry.”
Unconsciously we both lean into the other and I touch my head gently to his in a reassuring gesture.
My eyes fall on his latest dinner and I frown.
“They still giving you just dog food sandwiches?”
I can’t help pulling a face. Dog food – the one thing I never allowed my people to eat, even when we were practically starving. We wouldn’t sink that low. Things would never be that bad.
I know what Negan intends – he’s sending Daryl a message:
“You are my pet, not a person anymore. You are my property. And you deserve no better.”
I look at Daryl and he knows what I’m thinking. Of course, he does.
“Ain’t that bad, really. Ain’t five-star-cuisine, but there’s actually good meat in those cans and …”
“It’s not the food. It’s what it’s supposed to mean.”
“I know. Ain’t gettin’ to me, Rick. If he gets a kick outta shit like that, I don’t give a damn. Hey, ain’t the first time I ate dog food.” He casts a look around. “Feels almost like home.”
It could have been a joke, if his inflection wasn’t bitter and his eyes didn’t bear this sadness.
“Why am I here again? Why don’t you come home to me instead?”
He looks me in the eyes.
“My call – just this once. I wanted ya ta be here.
“You wanted me to be here?”
I see him swallow thickly and for a moment he looks away, taking great interest in his bare feet.
“Know we’re only dreamin'. Know ya ain’t really here. And as soon as one of us wakes up, yer gonna be gone again. Havin’ been home, with ya, made returnin’ to this twice as hard this afternoon. Didn’t wanna go through it again. ‘s gonna make you feel good leavin' here though and wakin’ up in a soft, warm bed …” He pauses, before adding sadly: “With Michonne.”
I wrap one arm around his shoulders and pull him close.
“No”, I whisper in his ear, “I’m gonna wake up alone. In your bed.”
And that’s not a lie to make him feel better.
When we returned to Alexandria, I couldn’t bear anyone’s look or anyone’s touch, not even Michonne’s. Especially Michonne’s.
They all trusted me, thought I knew the way, thought I was strong and could handle the Savior problem, but I led them straight into doom. I let them down. It’s all my fault, and no one can convince me otherwise.
I keep hearing the same excuse. That there was no way I could have known about the number and strength of the enemy, but that doesn’t change the fact that I let my self-confidence turn into arrogance and stopped listening to the one person, who’s always kept my feet on solid ground.
“I want you back by my side, Daryl. I need you – now more than ever before.”
I went to his room the first night back home. I felt lost, numb, frozen to the core. I didn’t know what to do, what to say, where to turn. Daryl probably wouldn’t have, either, but his mere presence had always given me strength and hope in the past.
Surrounded by his things, there in his room, I had felt closer to him and I fell asleep that night crying, while I was hugging his pillow, imagining it was him.
That’s when I saw him the first time, here in this cell – naked, dirty, cold, hungry, lonesome and devastated – when I held him, tried to warm him and let him know, that he was not to blame. That he was loved.
“We are waiting for you, Daryl.”
Those were the last words I was able to say to him, before he were both woken rudely – he by that song once again and I by someone kicking my leg. Michonne.
Just like a couple of weeks ago, when she had woken me from a slumber on the couch, she had kicked me again. Yet unlike back then, it had made me angry this time. Why does she keep doing that? Is that any way to wake someone you claim to care for?
Daryl used to place a hand on my shoulder, if he meant to wake me, giving it a squeeze or shaking me gently, while saying my name in the very special way only he would say it. He never kicked me.
And he never went behind my back, either. He may not agree with me in everything and he doesn’t have to, mind you, but if he thinks differently about an important matter, he will tell me so. He will talk to me about it and let me know his opinion, but in the end he will follow me loyally, no matter how I decide.
Michonne had a rifle hidden in the fireplace and left with it secretly this morning. She was up to something and apparentely didn’t think it necessary to fill me in. Either she thinks me too weak to be involved in her plans, or she doesn’t want me to know, because she expects me to say ‘No’, while totally intending to pull them through nevertheless. She always did that. Go her own way. Do her own thing. No matter what I thought of it, regardless of what I said.
Her loyalty is with me as long as I happen to agree with her. The moment I don’t, she will turn and go the other way. Go behind my back, if necessary. Daryl always stood by me from start to finish, to whatever end.
Why the heck ever did I choose her over him? Whichever part of my body made that decision, it sure wasn’t my heart or my mind. She was never right for me. On the contrary. She added fuel to the flame when I was already spinning out of control, instead of pulling the brakes and stopping me. We will never be a unit the way I used to be with Daryl. I was such a fool.
Daryl placing his hand gently on my knee derails my train of thought and I feel the corners of his mouth twitch shortly to the revelation that I am sleeping in his bed. And I totally intend to keep on doing that from now on.
With a sigh he says unexpectedly:
“Michonne’s gonna hate me, too, now.”
“No one hates you and no one ever did. Not her and nobody else, either. We’ll work it out. Later. Don’t worry about Michonne.”
“Ain’t worried about Michonne.”
He turns his head and looks at me. The look in his eyes says more than any words could ever have.
“Neither am I”, I reply and I’m sure he knows what I’m trying to say.
Daryl drops his head on my shoulder and I feel a shudder run through his body. He looks so exhausted, his eyes teary and red-rimmed, with dark circles underneath them. I pull him closer and place a soft kiss on his shaggy hair, savoring this moment of closeness. It is going to end way too soon.
“I know you’re strong, Daryl. I know you’re resisting, because you feel giving in and telling Negan what he wants to hear is like betraying Glenn’s memory”, I feel him flinch, “or letting me down. It’s not. You’ll always be Daryl.”
He turns his head to look at me and I press my forehead to his and close my eyes for a moment.
“Please, do what he wants. There’s a difference between giving in and pretending to. You’re not gonna help anyone, if you die, too.”
It’s me flinching this time.
“ I need you, Daryl. Maggie does. We all do. We’ll get you out of here, I promise, but till then you can give us a hand fighting these bastards by gathering information and telling me all you know. But you need to stay alive for this. For me. –
Please.”
Daryl pulls back and looks at me calmly, and I think I see something spark up in his eyes.
“Glad to see ya ain’t thinkin’ ‘bout givin’ in, either.”
“Not as long as I got something … someone worth fighting for.”
I cup his cheek.
“I know you’re not afraid of dying, Daryl. – But I am.”
“You won’t. I …”
“No.” I reach out and pull him close. “You misunderstood. I’m afraid of you dying. So please don’t.”
The next moment the first tunes of that song tear him away from me.
“I love you.”
I blurt the words out without thinking, without knowing if he would want to hear them. But I guess, he hasn’t heard them anyway. He’s gone.
He’s in that cold, dark, dirty cell again, waiting for another one of those disgusting sandwiches. But at least he knows that he’s not alone. He will never be alone again.
And I? I’m gonna get up, muster all the strength and courage I can to get me through another day. Until it is time to go to sleep again. And dream.