The RV jolted as it hit another pot hole, causing a groan to escape your lips from the rough jostle. Shutting your eyes tightly, you turn your head and bury the right side of your face in the pillow. Gritting your teeth from the sharp pains shooting through your body. Even on the smoothest parts of the road it still felt like you were being thrown back and forth in the back of a trunk.
Shadows dance across the walls surrounding you and up against the ceiling from the last of the sunlight peeking through the window. The room feels warm, although you question if the warmth is due to the fact that you are running a fever and haven't been able to stop sweating.
"Hey." A soft knock on the wood doorframe captures your attention, and slowly you move your head to look at the man who stands there.
"You holding up okay?" Rick asks, walking in and taking a knee beside the small bedside.
"I'd be doing a whole lot better if Abraham could avoid the uneven bumps in the road." You tell him, your voice sounding strained and tired. But you try your best to be light and tease, trying to hide just how grim your situation truly is. But you know Rick and everyone else sees straight through your facade.
Rick chuckles dryly, "I'll tell him. But I came to check on you, and tell you we're just about half way there."
Swallowing, you feel the beginning of hot tears piercing your eyes. But biting your bottom lip, you hold them back. Half way doesn't seem too far or too long, yet the way you feel right now makes it seem like a whole lot longer.
"Hey," Rick says, and your focus returns to his slightly scruffy face. "We're going to get you to the Hilltop. We're going to get you to the doctor, and you and this baby will be just fine."
Your lips curl upward faintly, trying your best to believe the man. "Thank you Rick. Thank you for all you've done for me."
Rick takes your left hand in his own, and the expression written across his face turns serious. "We're going to get you there. That is my promise to you."
Leaning forward, Rick places the softest of kisses to your forehead. Rick had always felt like the father figure you never had. A leader and a guardian who cared for you.
"Do you need anything?" Rick asks, pulling back and standing up.
"Just Daryl." You whisper to Rick, and once again you hold back your tears. Not wanting Rick to see you cry and not wanting to believe that this is your last goodbye to the man who has been the only real kind of "father" you have ever known.
Rick smiles faintly, "I'll get him."
It doesn't take long for your redneck to replace Rick's spot in the room, walking in nervously and bending down next to the bed you lay in.
"How ye feelin?" Daryl asks, and his voice seems timid almost. As if he's concealing his own emotions and it sounds like he's nervous to hear your answer.
Running your tongue over your dry chapped lips, you stare intently at your blue eyed redneck. "Hanging in there."
Daryl nods his head lightly, his gaze faltering. His hand holds onto your own however, and his grip hadn't loosened from his tight hold on you.
"Rick said," You say, your eyes fluttering to stay open as the pain drains everything from your deteriorating body. "That's we're just shy of half way there."
Daryl looks up, his blue eyes locking with yours. And you see it. Like waves crashing against the shore line, his worry and his anxious stress are visable like giant tidal waves.
"We're gonna get 'cha there." Daryl nods his head, and as he tries to reassure you, you can't help but wonder if its truly you that he's trying to reassure.
