Light | TWD | Daryl Dixon Fanfiction

056

Everything sounded far away to Juliana. Her eyes fluttered open off and on, seeing flashes of familiar faces in her line of sight but she struggled to figure out if they were real or not. Gun fire still rattled off somewhere in the distance, and finally, a pair of arms scooped her up. 

She winced at the sudden movement of being picked up and carried, gasping at the pain that shot through her side all the way up her back.

"C'mon!" Daryl's rough voice shouted. He sounded panicked and his voice cracked with emotion. Through heavy eyelids, Juliana strained to open them, and when she saw that it was Daryl carrying her, frantically looking for someone to help him through the chaos, she weakly fumbled for the sleeve of his shirt, grasping it as tightly as she could.

He must have felt her movement, because he glanced down at her briefly, eyes wild with something some sort of emotion Juliana had never seen before. He picked up his pace, breaking into a job as he tore up the porch where the infirmary was, busting through the screen door. He placed her on the closest bed, hand flying over to where she had been shot and pressed his palm against the wound.

Juliana wasn't going to tell him, but the pain she had experienced before was gone. She knew it wouldn't be long.

"Just-" he started before craning his neck towards the door, "I need some fuckin' help!" he shouted, voice cracking.

"Daryl," Juliana breathed out, laying her hand over the top of his forearm, "Don't-"

"No..no!" his head lowered and his face twisted in agony as his other hand came up to lay over hers, squeezing it tightly, "I can't.."

"Daryl. You are good. So good."

"Stop."

"I tried. It just..it just was bad timing.."

"Stop!" he ground out.

Juliana swallowed thickly, her opposite hand grabbing a hold of his as it held onto her. Tears pooled in her eyes as she turned her head towards the man, forcing a small smile.

"I'm glad I stayed," she told him, sniffling, "I found you when there was nothin' worth findin' anymore. And there you were." Juliana raised her eyes to look up at him. His head was bowed, lips pressed firmly against her hand as his shoulders shook slightly, "You thought you were so broken. I know I sure as shit was." she slid her hand out from underneath him, placing it on top of his head, "But if you ain't ever broken, no light gets in. Lead me to you, right?"

She let out a shudder of a breath which caused Daryl to lift his head quickly. His hands move to grasp either side of her face gently, his thumbs gently caressing her cheeks.

"I ain't ready."

"I know."

"Does it hurt?"

"No."

At her words his head dropped, a sob escaping from him. He leaned forward slightly, pressing his lips firmly against her forehead. Moving slightly backwards, he then pressed his forehead against her own.

"I have so much left to say to you," he whispered to her.

Juliana's eyelids felt heavy. She was tired.

With effort, she raised her hand to wrap her fingers around Daryl's wrist, "Nothin' ends up how it's suppose to, huh? Negan told me I knew how this was gonna end. I did. It was gonna be you or me so I made the choice. They need you more than me."

"But I need you."

"You've always got me, Daryl," she whispered to him, "You always did."

"But I ain't ready! I ain't!" he repeated again, holding onto her tighter.

The sound of the screen door slamming on the fair side of the room pulled Daryl away from her, followed by the sound of heavy feet rushing across the room. Everything began to feel farther away from Juliana, and she turned her head, reaching out to Daryl as the voices and footsteps jumbled around her.

"I love you."

Juliana let out a shuddering breath just as Daryl reached out to her, "Jules..Jules!" her grasped the women by her shoulders, shaking her as if that could bring her back, "Fuck!" he growled out, an almost inhuman sound escaping him as he pulled her limp body close to him, rocking back and forth on the bed. 

The room was silent as death filled the air around them. Rick had to take a step away from an injured Michonne for a moment to reach over to Daryl.

"Daryl, she'll-" he started, only to be cut off by Daryl.

"I know- I know! I'll do it."

With shaking hands, he pulled out the small hunting knife at his side. Pulling back from her, he took in her features; pale and cold and grey. He gently brushed away a strand of hair from her cold face and pressed a final kiss to her forehead, letting it linger there as he pressed the end of the knife through the side of her skull.

The light was gone.