We Keep Goin'

Daryl wasn't back yet.

I knew it was going to take a while - there were so many different parts to Rick's plan, but still, every time I heard a door opening, my chest tightened. Every time footsteps passed, I strained to hear, hoping - praying - that it was him. But it never was. Just more waiting.

The weight in my chest hadn't eased. Not since he left. Every minute that passed without him here made it harder to breathe. But even that fear - the fear of losing him - wasn't what had torn me apart today.

It was supposed to be my gunshot wound causing the pain consuming my body, or an infection making the agony move around. But it wasn't.

Even after Beth told me about the bleeding, hinting at what she thought was causing it. I didn't want to know - because knowing meant I had to face it. And I wasn't ready.

But there it had been. In that bathroom. The truth staring back at me like a slap in the face.

I had been pregnant.

I'd never wanted a child, not even before all this, but especially not now. This world wasn't a place for that. Not when death waited around every corner. Not when we could barely keep ourselves alive. Bringing a child into all this? It felt like it would've been a cruelty.

But knowing there had been a life inside me - a piece of him and me - and I never even knew? I never got the chance to hope for it, to fear it, to feel it. And now it was gone.

The loss hit harder than I thought it would. Harder than it should have. How do you grieve for something you didn't even know existed until it didn't anymore?

I don't know how long I'd sat there on that toilet, staring at those two lines like they were mocking me. Minutes. Hours. Time had stopped making sense. My thoughts twisted and spiralled, and I couldn't stop them.

I didn't hear Beth knock. I'd barely registered the door opening until she said my name.

"Athena?"

I didn't answer. My feet moved on their own, out of the bathroom past her concerned gaze. Rosita was sitting on her cot, her arms crossed like she was trying to brace herself. She didn't say anything, but she didn't need to. She knew. They both did.

I didn't speak. I couldn't.

The cot was the only thing that felt solid beneath me. I crawled onto it, the rough blanket scratching against my skin, but I didn't care. My body curled in on itself, and the ache in my abdomen - the empty, hollow ache - pulsed with every heartbeat, dwarfing the pain of the wound on my side.

I'd stayed like that for hours. Maybe longer. Staring at nothing. Hearing nothing. The world moved on without me, the distant murmurs of people talking outside the infirmary, the shuffle of feet, the occasional clang of something. None of it reached me.

That's where I still was now, desperately wanting Daryl to be here. But even when he did get back, I didn't know how I'd face him.

It was late. I was exhausted. But I couldn't shut my brain off. I kicked the blankets off in frustration, my head falling into my hands.

I felt the cot shift slightly. Then warmth, solid arms wrapped around me, a gentle but steady weight. Rosita didn't say a word. She just held me. No questions. No forced comfort. Just her presence.

We hadn't been close, not really, despite fighting for our lives together multiple times. She wasn't one to chat, and didn't reveal too much about what was going on inside, but the strength she offered me in those moments meant the world.

After a while, Beth noticed her embrace, and before I could stop it - she was on my other side, curling into me as well. The three of us lay there, the weight of my unexpected grief bearing down on all of us until I finally let sleep take me.

~

I woke up with a start, my chest heaving as the remnants of some half-remembered nightmare slipped away. But it wasn't the dream that left me gasping. It was the cold, crushing weight that settled over me the moment my eyes opened - the reality of everything hitting me all over again.

I stayed still, blinking up at the ceiling of the infirmary. My body ached, like the grief had seeped into my bones, anchoring me down. For a moment, I thought about closing my eyes again, sinking back into the nothingness. But the ache wouldn't let me. Physically, I felt better - Beth had dosed me up with pain meds - but mentally, it was a different story.

The thin mattress creaked softly as I shifted. Beth wasn't lying beside me anymore, and neither was Rosita. My eyes found Rosita quickly, though - fully dressed, lacing up her boots near the door. She moved with the kind of sharp purpose that told me she had somewhere to be.

She must've heard me stir because her eyes flicked toward me. "Hey."

Her voice was steady, but I caught the slight hesitation in it. The kind people used when they weren't sure how much the other person could take. I hated that. I'd never dealt well with people tiptoeing around me.

"Anyone back?" My voice cracked, rough from disuse.

Rosita paused for a beat, like she wanted to soften the blow. "Not yet."

I nodded numbly, my fingers curling into the thin blanket beneath me. It shouldn't hurt as much as it did. No news meant they were still out there. Still fighting. But the fear gnawed at me, whispering dark possibilities. Every second Daryl wasn't back, those whispers got louder.

I tried not to think about that. I tried not to think about anything at all.

Beth stepped into the room. Her hair was damp, strands curling slightly from the moisture, and she wore fresh clothes - a simple flannel and jeans, clean but wrinkled.

Her gaze swept across the room, pausing when she spotted Rosita by the door, who'd thrown on her jacket, the dark fabric zipped up tight. She looked ready to leave, her jaw set with that stubborn determination she wore when she had a plan.

"You should stay another day," Beth said softly, though there was a firm edge to her words. "You're still healing."

Rosita didn't respond right away. She adjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder, her eyes flicking toward me for a moment before she answered. "I'm fine."

"You're not," Beth pressed, her voice gentler this time. "You have a bullet hole in your shoulder."

Rosita's expression hardened. "Sitting around won't change that."

Beth opened her mouth like she wanted to argue, but Rosita was already moving. She pulled the door open and slipped out without another word. The sound of it closing behind her left the room heavy with silence.

Beth sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. Then, as if shaking it off, she crossed the room and lowered herself onto the chair beside me. She didn't say anything at first, just pulled back the blanket enough to check the wound on my side. Her fingers were careful, peeling away the bandages.

"Looks clean," she murmured. "No sign of infection. That's good."

"I want to go home." My voice was quieter than I meant it to be. I hated how weak I sounded.

Beth frowned. "You should really wait until Daryl's back..."

She didn't need to explain. My wound was part of it, but I knew the real reason. She didn't want me alone. Not like this. And the worst part was I didn't even have the energy to argue.

Beth adjusted the blanket, tucking it around me like I was something fragile. She stayed close. Then, as if deciding the silence wasn't doing either of us any favors, she started talking.

She chatted absently about nothing in particular - supply counts, how much cobbler she'd eaten during her brief visit to the kingdom, how Morgan had been muttering to himself more than usual. I barely responded. I knew she was trying to keep my mind occupied, to give me something else to focus on. But the burn in my chest refused to settle.

Eventually, the words slipped from me before I could stop them.

"How am I supposed to tell him?"

Beth stilled. Her hands fidgeting in her lap, like she was trying to find the right thing to say. "He loves you," she said softly. "He'll just want you to be okay."

That didn't stop the guilt, and she must've seen it in my face because she shook her head firmly. "Athena, none of this is your fault. And Daryl... he's not gonna see it that way either."

I didn't answer. I wasn't so sure.

Beth hesitated before she spoke again, her voice even softer. "He was terrified. After you were shot. It was like nothing else existed except that he didn't lose you."

Her words twisted something deep in my chest.

"He didn't even realize he'd been hit himself," she continued. "Nobody caught it until Tara saw the blood, apparently - I wasn't here yet." She gave a sad, knowing smile. "But he had a bullet hole in his arm. He'd lost a lot of blood. And even after that, he still insisted on giving some to you. Wouldn't hear a word against it."

I swallowed hard, the thought of Daryl bleeding and still putting me first making it even harder to breathe.

Beth's hand found mine, her fingers squeezing gently. "He loves you," she repeated. "And when he gets back, he's going to be right here. No matter what."

I wanted to believe that. More than anything, I wanted to believe that. But the fear - the ache - it lingered. And until Daryl walked through that door, I wouldn't go away.

~

I heard voices, movement.

At first, I thought I imagined it - just another trick of my restless mind. But then it came again. The unmistakable commotion of arrival at the gates.

People were returning.

I pushed myself up off the cot, my body protesting the sudden movement. The pain in my side flared, but I ignored it. My pulse pounded, each thud echoing louder than the noise outside.

Daryl. I needed to see him. I needed to know he was okay.

The door stood just a few steps away, but it felt like miles. My legs were stiff and unsteady, but I forced them to move. I didn't care how I looked. I didn't care if my bandages were loose or my hair was tangled. None of that mattered.

"Wait - Athena!"

Beth's concerned voice chased after me. I heard the quick patter of her footsteps as she hurried to follow, but I didn't stop. My hand fumbled with the latch before yanking the door open. The bright afternoon light stung my eyes, but I didn't wait for the burning to stop before pressing forward.

Alexandria was alive with movement. People shuffled through the streets - dirt-streaked, blood-spattered, weary. Some were helping the wounded. Others hugging family members. But I wasn't looking for them. My gaze swept past unfamiliar faces, desperate for one. Just one.

"You're not supposed to be up," Beth scolded, catching up to me. Her hand brushed my arm, like she was ready to steady me if I fell. "Come on, Athena, you need to-"

"I need to see him." My voice broke and I barely recognized it.

Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, but something in my eyes must've stopped her. She didn't say anything else. She just nodded, her grip loosening.

I kept moving.

Alexandria spun around me, voices fading into a distant hum. I caught glimpses - Rick's blood-streaked face, Merle helping someone limp toward the infirmary. Tara in her bright orange sunglasses.

I finally caught sight of Daryl, already heading in the direction of the infirmary. On his way to check on me.

He was moving quickly, his rifle slung over his shoulder, dirt smeared across his face. His hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat, and his clothes were stained with all sorts. But he was alive, and he was here.

His name tore from my throat, and my feet stumbled forward, my body acting on instinct.

His head snapped up at the sound of my voice. For a moment, his expression was unsure - like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. But then the tension broke. His rifle slipped from his shoulder, forgotten, as he closed the distance between us.

"Hey - hey," he rasped, his arms catching me before I could fall. His hands were filthy and trembling slightly as they clutched my face, his thumbs brushing away tears I hadn't realized were falling. "I'm here, baby. Everything's okay."

I collapsed against him, my fingers knotting into the fabric of his shirt. The scent of sweat and smoke clung to him, but underneath it, he still smelled like him. Safe. Real. I buried my face into his chest, letting the warmth of him consume me.

"You're back-" My voice faltered, the words tangled in the sobs that refused to stop. "I was worried."

"Shh." His lips pressed against the top of my head. "I'm okay, Ath. Back together, see?"

His hands held me tight, but when he pulled back to look at me, his eyes burned with worry. "Ya okay?"

I couldn't answer. Not yet. Not without falling apart completely. So I just nodded, even though it wasn't entirely true.

"C'mon," he said, taking my hand. "Let's get ya back to the infirmary. Ya shouldn't be out here."

"Is it over?" I asked, ignoring what he'd said.

"It will be." He reassured me. "Real soon."

I wanted to ask what that meant, but I didn't have the energy. Not yet.

"C'mon." He said again, slipping an arm around my waist now to support me.

But I shook my head. The thought of going back to the infirmary - to the cot, the four walls, the people that had come back injured - made my chest tighten. I couldn't. Not when I'd spent almost every moment since waking up in that room consumed by grief I hadn't even known I could feel.

"I want to go home," I said quietly.

He froze, his hands still resting against my sides. For a moment, he didn't say anything. But I could see it in his eyes - the way the relief at seeing me shifted to something else. Something heavier. He knew. Maybe not the whole truth, but enough to tell that something was wrong.

"Ath," he said softly, his voice laced with concern. "S'goin on?"

I didn't answer. I didn't know how.

Beth hovered nearby, wringing her hands. She'd stayed quiet, but I knew she was waiting. Watching. Ready to step in if I collapsed.

"I'm fine," I lied, my voice shaky. "I just wanna go home."

Daryl's jaw tightened. He didn't believe me. I could see it in the way his eyes flickered over my face, searching for an answer I wouldn't give. He glanced at Beth, asking for reassurance I was well enough to be out of the infirmary. She nodded reluctantly. I wasn't - not really, but she knew that I needed to be alone with Daryl, not in the infirmary surrounded by those newly injured.

"Okay," he murmured, his thumb brushing gently along my cheek. "Let's go home."

He kept his arm around me as we started walking, slow and careful. Every now and then, I caught him glancing at me - worried, searching, but I kept my eyes forward. I'd break again if I looked at him.

By the time we reached the house, my legs felt weak. Daryl opened the door and led me inside, his grip tightening. The house was dim, the curtains drawn to keep the heat out. It smelled like it always did. Looked like it always did.

But I didn't feel at home. I felt hollow.

He guided me down the stairs, his palm against the small of my back. Our room was just as we'd left it. The blankets rumpled, Daryl's extra bolts dotted around like a rude reminder his crossbow had been taken again, one of my shirts draped over the chair. Normal.

But nothing was normal.

I made it two steps inside before the weight became unbearable. The ache I'd kept buried since yesterday surged, and before I could stop it, my legs buckled. I barely felt the floor as I sank down, my hands gripping the edge of the bed. The sob hit me hard - harsh and raw, like it had been waiting for this exact moment.

"Hey," Daryl was there instantly, crouching beside me. His hand cupped my face, tilting it so I couldn't hide. "Hey, I've got ya."

He didn't ask what was wrong. He didn't demand answers. He just held on, his fingers brushing through my hair, his thumb catching the tears as they fell.

"C'mon," he said. "S'get ya off the floor."

I didn't resist when he lifted me, his arms strong and sure. He settled us both onto the bed, scooting back until his broad shoulders rested against the headboard. His legs stretched out on either side of me, and he pulled me gently against his chest, my back to him. The warmth of him wrapped around me, his arms crossing over my front like a shield.

For a while, we just stayed like that. His chin rested lightly on the top of my head, and his fingers traced soft, steady patterns along my arm. He didn't rush me, despite how much I could tell he wanted to know what was going on.

Eventually, though, his voice came. "Ath..." His lips brushed against my hair. "Talk to me."

I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn't know how to start. Every time I tried to find the words, everything swelled again, threatening to swallow me whole.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, though I wasn't even sure which part I was apologizing for.

Daryl's arms tightened slightly. "Don't got nothin' to be sorry for."

But I did. He just didn't know it yet.

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breathing. My voice tremored when I finally spoke.

"I was pregnant."

The words lingered in the air, like saying them made them more real. I felt the way his body tensed behind me, his breathing stopping. He didn't say anything. He just waited.

"I didn't know," I continued, tears falling again now. "Not until Beth-" My voice stopped working for a moment. "But it was too late."

Daryl's arms were rigid, but he didn't stop holding me. I felt the rise and fall of his chest as he tried to process it; his fingers twitching against my skin like he wanted to say something - to fix it, to understand.

"I never wanted it," I admitted, my voice breaking. "I thought... I thought that part of me didn't exist. But knowing it was there - knowing there was something we made, growing inside me..."

The sobs came harder, shaking me. Daryl's arms wrapped around me tighter, holding me through it. His lips pressed to my hair, murmuring something I couldn't hear through the sound of my own grief. But I felt him. I felt every ounce of his pain through the way he held me, the way his fingers trembled as they brushed through my hair.

"I'm sorry."

"What ya sorry for?" he rasped, kissing my head again. "Ain't yur fault."

I wanted to believe him. But the ache wouldn't let me.

"I'm so sorry," I sobbed again, unable to say anything else.

"Ain't your fault," He tried again. "Ath, it ain't."

I turned, burying my face in his chest. He held me like I was the most fragile thing in the world, his fingers gripping the back of my head as if keeping me close would somehow make it better.

We stayed like that for what felt like forever - tangled together in the wreckage of what could have been. My tears had slowed, but the ache still lingered - a constant, hollow throb beneath my ribs.

Daryl still held me like he could keep the pieces of me from falling apart. His arms stayed tight around me, warm against my skin. Every now and then, I felt his lips press gently to my temple, my hair, the curve of my shoulder, each touch whispering what words couldn't.

But even while he comforted me, I could feel the emotion in him. His heartbeat was faster than before. His breathing just perceptibly uneven. He was trying to hold it all back, but I knew he was hurting. I felt this way despite never even wanting a child, but he did and I knew it. He'd told me it didn't matter, reassured me I was enough - and I was, I truly believed that - but given the choice, he'd have wanted that with me.

"It's okay..." I murmured, my voice hoarse from the crying, my fingers tracing lightly over the scars on his forearm. "...whatever you wanna ask. Or say."

He stiffened, and for a moment, I thought he might shake his head. Deny it. Pretend like there was nothing he needed to get out. But I felt the way his grip on me shifted, his thumb brushing idly against my ribs. His silence wasn't because he didn't want to ask - it was because he was afraid to.

I threaded my fingers through his. "Daryl." I tilted my head just enough to look up at him. "Now it's your turn to talk to me."

He swallowed, his eyes flickering away like it might hurt less if he didn't meet mine. But I caught the faint tremble in his expression.

"Jus'..." His voice was small, hard to hear. "I didn't even know. Didn't have a clue." His hand tightened around mine. "But ya were carryin'-" He stopped, the words catching in his throat. I saw the way his chest rose sharply, like the weight of it all was only just hitting him. "We coulda had..."

"I know," I whispered.

He didn't finish the thought. Maybe he couldn't.

I shifted against him, twisting enough to press my forehead to his jaw. His skin was warm. I kissed him softly on the neck, like maybe it could soothe the ache I'd put in his chest. He leaned into it, his arms winding tighter around me.

"Do ya know when?"

"No." I answered honestly. "It had to be before that shower we didn't use anything though, timing wise."

I waited while the cogs in his head finished turning. "Ya bled..?"

"Yeah. It's a thing."

He nodded slightly, then, "Thought we'd been careful."

"We had... guess it isn't fool-proof."

He took that in. Staying silent for a while before speaking again. "Is... So... What happens now? In ya... Is it still happenin'?"

"Yeah." I breathed, so much emotion in the word it surprised me. "Wasn't really listening to Beth, but I think she said I'll keep bleeding for a little while."

Daryl's hand moved protectively to rest low on my stomach, his hand moving in slow, soothing circles. "Ya hurtin'?"

"A little. But she drugged me up. I'm okay."

"Will ya need more pain meds?"

"Maybe. If I do it'll be later. I'm fine for now."

"M'kay. Tell me if ya do."

"I will."

"D'ya need anything else?"

"Daryl... chill." I almost teased. "All I need is you here with me."

"M'kay."

We stayed on the bed for hours in comfortable silence, eventually shifting to lie down. Daryl's hand constantly moved on my stomach as he held me, trying to ease my discomfort, reminding me he was there.

"Ya ain't still feelin' like it's yur fault, are ya?" He finally broke the silence, feeling the burden still within me. "Cos it ain't."

I shrugged.

"Ath. Don't... Why?"

I shrugged again. I didn't really know why. Not totally.

Eventually, I tried to explain. "You didn't want me to fight. But I did. And it happened."

He let out a breath before his voice became firm. "Athena Dixon," he started, full-naming me, so I knew he meant business. "Ya didn't know. I didn't know." He paused, still stroking my hair. "I didn't want ya out there in the way I never want ya doin' anythin' where ya can get hurt, same as you do me."

"Yeah."

"I never expected ya not to fight. If ya can, ya always will 'n' I know it. It's one of the things that drives me nuts 'bout ya... but it's also one of the reasons I love ya so damn much."

A small smile grew on my face for the first time since everything had gone down.

"The only person to blame is the damn Savior that shot ya - 'n' he's long gone - put a bullet in 'im right after... so don't put it on ya'self. Please."

"Okay." I mumbled, not yet believing it.

Daryl was quiet for a while. "M'sorry I wasn't there. I'd never have gone if I knew."

I shifted to look at him. "Don't be silly. I know you'd have been there if you had any idea."

"Wish I'd stayed. Hate that ya were on ya own."

"I wasn't." I tried to reassure him. "Rosita and Beth were there. They were both on my cot with me at one point. I'm surprised it didn't collapse."

He huffed the tiniest laugh, and I did, too. It made a horrible situation feel the littlest bit lighter.

I let out a sigh. "What do we do now?" I asked, not really knowing what I actually meant. There were so many unknowns. I hadn't even asked how the mission had gone. The Saviors weren't finished - I could feel it. I just didn't have the headspace to think about them yet.

I don't know if I meant them, Alexandria, us...

Daryl pulled me closer, his lips brushing against mine in the softest, gentlest kiss. "We keep goin'. Like we always do."

"But what if-"

"We keep goin'," he repeated firmly, his hands cradling my face. "You 'n' me."

A shaky breath escaped me, and for the first time since the rug had been pulled from beneath us, I let myself relax. It was going to take time, but matter how much this shitty situation hurt, Daryl was there with me, safe, and that was all I'd ever need.

A/N: As always, thank you so much for reading.