Rabid
Summary: A hunt goes wrong and proves that walkers aren't the only danger in this new, cruel world.
Fandom: The Walking Dead, Desus
Warnings: Death, Canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, character death
Snow was beginning to fall. They could hear the dry, icy flakes against the unfallen leaves in the forest around them. The sun was getting ready to set, and the trees stood out stark against the sky like sentinels. How ironic, Daryl thought. He would have laughed, except that his companion next to him was tense with fear. He lay in a copse of fallen trees, his head heavy against Paul’s legs. Paul took stock of their surroundings: the trail of undead that lay still in their wake, the drops of bright red blood slowly being devoured by the snow. He was thankful for that, as the blood trail led directly to where Daryl lay, blood pooling around him. The tufts of grey fur waving in the light breeze registered briefly, but he couldn’t focus.
“I’m sorry.” Daryl said softly. He looked up into Paul’s eyes. Paul’s hard look crumbled as he choked back a sob. “Hey, now.” Daryl pulled his lover’s head down toward his own, but Paul pulled back.
“You have no reason to be sorry. Fuck!” Jesus stood and began pacing. “If I’d had your back- seen it coming…” He put both hands on a nearby tree to steady himself.
“Paul, there’s nothing you could have done! Fighting walkers -you never know what’s coming up on your blindside.” Daryl winced in pain, as he struggled to turn where he sat to face Paul. His face twisted in pain and paled.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.” Daryl barely heard the words, but they drifted down to him on the snow.
“How was it gonna happen? Walker bite? Starve to death? Gunshot?” Daryl snorted a laugh, “How’s a guy supposed to die in this world, Paul?” He sucked in a breath and exhaled raggedly.
“Fuck, Daryl, I don’t know. Christ…” Paul weakly punched the thick tree in front of him. “Fuck!” In a rage, he put his full force into his fists, pummeling the bark with no effect.
“Stop!” Daryl yelled. “Come here.”
Paul finally turned to face him, his sea glass eyes brimming with tears. He pressed the palms of his stinging hands into his eyes before returning to sit in the snow next to Daryl. They faced opposite directions, Daryl propped against a log, Paul kneeling in the snow next to him.
“Look at me, Paul” Paul watched Daryl’s lips as he spoke; they were red with his efforts to catch his breath. “We know I’m not making it out of this forest. Even if you could get me back to the car, that wolf was rabid. That’s the only way an animal would attack with walkers everywhere. The chances of Saddiq –“
“I know.” Paul cut him off, his voice hard, but his hand coming up to gently move the hair out of Daryl’s eyes. His fingers trailed down to Daryl’s chin, where he paused. Daryl subtly leaned in to the touch, and the men regarded one another. The cold cloud of their breath mingling.
“Kiss me?” Daryl tugged on Paul’s coat and pulled him down into a kiss. Paul let himself be pulled in, taking Daryl’s face in his hands. It was sweet at first, a kiss they may have shared any other day. They had long ago become accustomed to asking the other before moving in to kiss; what had at first been a way to honor Daryl’s aversion to public displays of affection turned into an endearing ritual. Daryl held Paul to him, one hand going to the back of his neck. He tried to deepen the kiss, desperate to forget where they were and why.
But as they kissed, it occurred to Paul that this would likely be their last kiss. The last time Daryl would run his hands through his hair. It was the last time he would feel the scratch of his beard against his own. Tonight he would be going back to their little house, alone. And the “never agains” and “last times” shot through him, and he broke their kiss with a sob, pulling Daryl into him. Daryl let himself be cradled against Paul’s strong chest.
“I don’t wanna die.” Daryl sobbed. “I’m so fuckin scared.”
“I know. I know. I’m not going anywhere, love.” Paul kissed the top of Daryl’s head. “I’m gonna be right here with you.”
With every sob, fresh red blood flowed more heavily from the inside of Daryl’s thigh. His pants were torn to shreds there, and a deep bite gushed with every heartbeat. The hastily fashioned tourniquet only slowed the inevitable.
“You have to go on.” Daryl stated simply. His voice was muffled against Paul’s leather coat “Don’t spend time on me.”
“How can you say that?” Paul started, but Daryl gripped him tighter.
“I never felt needed until the world went to shit, Paul. Now I have everything. Everything I didn’t know I wanted.” Daryl pulled back to look at Paul. His lover’s face was streaked with tears, lips trembling with unvoiced sobs. “I aint never loved anything or anyone til I met you. I never thought I could. And now… now I can’t do shit about dyin. Except I’m asking you to live. Just, live, OK?”
Paul looked up into the quickly fading light of the sky and took several deep breaths.
“I don’t know how to do this without you Daryl. I don’t. I thought I had lived a good life, I thought I finally had....” Jesus looked down at Daryl, and couldn't finish. Daryl’s face was beaded with sweat, his breath heavy and skin pale.
“You take my vest – Rick will know what to do with it. You leave me here. Under the stars. I’m right where I need to be if I can’t be with you.”
Jesus’ resolve cracked and kissed Daryl between tears. He kissed Daryl’s forehead and eyelids and the corner of his mouth and his bearded chin, whispering “I love you.” Over and over again. It took what was left of Daryl’s strength to pull himself up and further into Paul’s lap.
“I ain’t gonna last much longer, love.” The cold was beginning to creep further up Daryl’s body and it was harder and harder to catch his breath. Paul held his as close as he could, fist gripping Daryl’s jacket, where he could feel the desperate slowing of his heart.
As Daryl’s vision began to fade, Paul’s came into sharp focus. The crystalized clouds of his breath, the snow falling faster now and the sky burnished with red and gold through the clouds.
Daryl clumsily pawed at Paul’s face, so that the other man would look at him. “I’m still gonna be loving you. Don’t forget.” His deep blue eyes held Paul’s for as long as he had the strength to keep his eyes open. Paul simply smiled down at him, lovingly, letting his smiling face be the last thing Daryl saw.
As Daryl’s eyes closed, Paul began to sing softly.
“Fare thee well my bright star, I watched your taillights blaze into nothingness, But you were long gone before I ever got to you, Before you blazed past this address…”
As he felt Daryl’s heartbeat begin to falter, the man in his arms trembled like a scared bird, he reached back gently and pulled the knot out of the tourniquet.
“And now I think of having loved and having lost' But never know what it feels like to never love' Who can say what's better when my heart's become the cost; A mere token of a brighter jewel sent from above…”
And then there was no more. The trembling ceased and no heartbeat followed the last. The sound that came from deep within Paul’s chest was the pained, strangled cry of a broken man. His keen echoed through the uncaring forest. When he finally had enough control of himself to stand, he laid Daryl back down in the snow. The sun had sunk below the horizon, and full dark would soon be upon him. Absentmindedly, he continued the song as he unsnapped one of his knives from his belt. He smoothed down his archer’s hair to frame his handsome face, which looked so peaceful and relaxed.
“Fare thee well my bright star; The vanity of youth, the color of your eyes And maybe if I'd fanned the blazing fire of your day-to-day; Or if I'd been older I'd been wise…”
Paul leaned over and pressed the tip of the knife behind Daryl’s ear and leaned down to kiss his cold forehead. Fresh tears spilled over as the knife broke through.
He let go of the knife, the thought of putting it back on his belt turning his stomach. With a deep, shaky breath, he rose to his feet.
Gingerly, he rolled Daryl and removed the man’s vest. He held it to his face and inhaled the musky smell before stashing it in his pack. He unsnapped Daryl’s own knife and took his gun from his hip. Steeling himself, he found the crossbow nearly completely covered with snow. From the quiver, he took one of Daryl’s perfect, handmade arrows, fletched with owl feathers, and tucked it inside his duster. He placed the crossbow on Daryl’s chest and regarded his partner one last time.
Snowflakes were sticking to their eyelashes, though they lay heavy and whole on Daryl’s, melting into fresh tears on Paul’s. The urge to lay beside him and let the cold take him was strong. But Daryl had asked so little of him, he couldn’t give up and let go. He arranged Daryl’s strong hands over the crossbow and stood.
Walking slowly through the dark forest, alone, leaving his love in the snow, was the hardest thing he had ever done.
