Everything flashed by you in a whirl of color. Soft green from the tall grass in the field, silver shimmering from the fences surrounding the prison but most prominent was the deep blue of Daryl Dixon's eyes.
His arms held you close to him as he ran with Rick and Maggie back into the prison. His left arm under your legs and his right beneath your head. You could hear his heavy breaths as he ran, trying not to gostle you too badly but failing in his rush. His hair stuck to his face with sweat and the sun beat harshly onto his skin.
You don't recall what happened next, all you know is that you woke up back in the cell you had been sharing with Daryl. Laying on the mattress, on top of the blankets as your forehead was slick with sweat and your skin began to burn.
You were unconscious when Daryl set you down on the mattress once inside the prison and Hershel hurried in to take a look at you. You didn't hear the worried whispers from the others or Daryl's instinct reaction of yelling once knowing that there was nothing to be done.
It wasn't until an hour later that your eyes fluttered open, the pale light flooding in hurting your head. You were warm, but felt cold as your body shivered. As you woke, the pain rushed back to you. Before it was numb from shock, but now you could feel every sensation.
Your shoulder was the worst. A searing, blistering pain like nothing you had ever felt. You knew it was bleeding profusly, you could see the patch of deep crimson blood soaking the sheets from the corner of your eye. It thumped heavily with it's own quickening heart beat, only making the pain that much worse.
Your leg felt weighed down with led, pain soaring through the lower left side of your body. You could see the blood soaking through your jeans as well, coating the sheet beneath with even more of your blood.
The feel of someone's warm and calloused hand gently squeezing yours brings you from your stilled gaze at the ceiling. Looking as well as you can to the left, unable to turn your head too far because of the injury to your left shoulder. But you can move far enough to see Daryl sitting on a short metal stool beside you. His right upper arm is dyed red from your blood, that has now dried onto his tan skin. His lower left arm is caked in the same dark red color from the blood that seeped from your leg. Traces of carrying you to safety.
"Daryl?" Your voice is small; raw and trembling slightly with each word. "Am I dying?"
Daryl's head lifts and on his face is an emotion you had never seen from him. The blue in his eyes swirl like a stormy sea, and even without words you know that he's scared. And the fact that Daryl Dixon is scared, only confirms what you already know. You were dying.
His hand tightens it's hold on yours, and he moves the stool closer. "Ye goin ta be jus fine."
Your lips curve upward slightly, "You always were a terrible liar."
Daryl lets out a breath, something between the beginning of a laugh and the beginning of tears. His left hand reaches across and touches your cheek ever so gently. You aren't sure why he does this at first, until you feel the tears burning your eyes. You hadn't noticed the tears trailing down your face. But Daryl had. He wiped them away with his thumb, his touch still sparking fireworks under your skin.
"Daryl," You whisper and his hand retracts back and he looks intently at you. "I'm scared."
Everyone was scared, it was a fact now in the life you all had. But it wasn't often that someone voiced it, and now you were doing just that.
Daryl nods, and you know he's holding back. "Where's my brave girl at, huh?" You know now he's trying to make you smile, something to keep your mind off the pain and looming future.
"She's not here." You shake your head, which makes your shoulder ache worse. "She's dying, and she's afraid."
Your eyes overflow with fearful cries, your voice breaking and soon sobs escape you.
"I don't want to die, I don't want to leave you." Daryl's eyes are the softest shade of blue and he holds your hand with all his strength. He lifts it up and presses the back of your hand to his lips. Warmth flooding from the contact of his skin, and this is one of those times that he isn't shying away from showing his love for you.
"Ye know how ye always wanna try on my vest? The one with the wings?" He asks you, and for a moment you wonder if he's changing the subject again. But you nod, imagining the stitching in your mind. The way you love watching them disappear as he rides off on his motorcycle or when it's facing you as he changes. Late at night when he thinks you are asleep, the moonlight illuminating the wings.
"Well, ye gonna get your own pair pretty soon." Daryl's voice cracks as he tells you this, a sign of his own vulnerability. He's scared, just like you. He's scared of you dying, he's scared of living without you.
But he stays there, through his tears and yours, his fear and yours. Holding your hand as death draws near, and as you feel your body beginning to lift you look to him. He can read it in your eyes that the time has come and as you open your mouth to try to speak, he stops you.
"It's okay," He assures you softly. "It's your turn to wear the angel wings now."
Kissing your hand, the feel of his lips against your skin and the sound of his voice follows you as you drift off. The whiteness engulfing you in complete peace and your pain is taken away. You are free.
From time to time, Daryl will feel something that makes him look up at the blue sky and smile to himself. His angel is flying above him somewhere, looking down and watching over him.
A/N: This one made me tear up as I wrote it, it may be kind of fluffy but I really like this one!❤ Also I listened to Mockingbird by Ruthie Collins while I wrote it and that only made me more emotional! 😭
