You Promised

Athena

I didn't know if I was running in the direction of the Kingdom - I didn't know where the hell I was. The only thing that mattered was putting one foot in front of the other. Over and over. Until my legs gave out beneath me.

I hadn't found Enid, Tara, or Siddiq. I prayed to whatever still listened that they were alive. I couldn't let myself think about Henry - about how this was going to destroy Carol and Ezekiel.

I collapsed onto the ground, heaving, chest burning. My hands hit the dirt and leaves as I tried to steady myself, gulping air like it might bring me clarity. I needed to figure out where I was. I needed to get back to Daryl and the kids.

They could be in danger.

Everyone at the Kingdom could be.

Without warning, I felt it. A breath - hot and rancid - against the back of my neck. The air changed, and suddenly, I wasn't alone.

A Whisperer had caught up to me.

He lunged then, silent and fast, skin face cracked and disgusting.

I had nothing. No knife, no gun. Just me.

He tackled me, slamming me into the earth. My scream was swallowed by the leaves as we rolled through the dirt. I kicked wildly, caught his knee. He grunted but didn't let go. His filthy hands clawed at my throat - gripping tight.

I bit him. Hard.

He howled, rearing back, and I twisted free - scrambling backwards on hands and knees. But his hand locked around my ankle and yanked. I hit the ground with a thud.

Panic screamed through me. I turned and slammed my elbow into his jaw, again and again, until I felt the crack of bone under skin. He slumped, dazed just long enough for me to flip him over. I mounted him, snarling, and drove my fist into his temple with everything I had left.

He stopped moving.

I didn't stop shaking.

No time to breathe. No time to think. Another figure exploded out of the trees, faster than the first. Another Whisperer. I staggered to my feet just as his knife flashed in the air.

He leapt at me, and as we crashed to the ground, something inside me snapped - literally.

My leg. My fucking leg.

The pain was blinding, white-hot, radiating up through my spine and into my skull. I was drowning in it, suffocating.

But the Whisperer didn't care. His full weight crushed my chest as the blade came down. I twisted, screaming in fury and agony.

My hand scrambled across the ground for something - anything - to defend myself. Dirt, leaves, sticks, finally, a rock.

Heavy. Solid. Sharp around the edges.

I gripped it and swung. Once. Twice. A third time. His skull split, and his body went slack. I shoved him off, blood roaring in my ears.

I tried to stand, and collapsed instantly.

My leg was useless - mangled. Blood was pouring down my thigh, hot and thick. The woods spun wildly, tilting sideways.

I clutched at the wound, pressing down hard. My hand came away slick. I was losing too much, too fast.

But I wasn't giving up.

I started to army crawl. Elbow over elbow, dragging the dead weight of my leg behind me. Each pull left a smear of red in the dirt, but I kept going.

I had to.

Through the dizzy haze, I spotted something in the woods ahead. A cabin. Or what was left of one. The roof had caved in, and the walls leaned like they were too tired to stand. No lights. No smoke. Just rot - but it was shelter.

I dragged myself up the steps, splinters slicing into my arms, and collapsed inside. The door creaked and fell shut behind me with a finality that made my stomach twist.

The air was thick with mold and dust. My throat burned with it. I blinked the blur from my eyes, scanning the shadowed room. My gaze snagged on something in the dirt.

Metal. Dull, but solid.

I dragged myself forward, hand shaking as I reached out.

A gun.

Old. Rusted. Heavy.

I flipped the chamber open with trembling fingers.

Empty. Of course it was.

"Fuck."

The curse rasped from my throat as I let the gun fall beside me and pulled myself up so I was slumped against the wall, both hands pressed to the pulsing wound on my leg.

It wasn't enough. I knew it wasn't.

I looked down.

My femur had snapped. A jagged edge of the bone protruding through torn skin.

Back when Selene and I were training in martial arts, we were drilled on this - never risk landing badly on your femur. It's not like other bones. The femoral artery is right there. Snap the bone wrong, and you can bleed out in minutes. Moving afterwards? Deadly as hell.

I remembered every warning, every scary story. And now I was living it.

I couldn't move. Not without making it worse.

If more Whisperers came, I couldn't run. I couldn't fight.

And if no one found me soon...

I'd bleed out anyway.

I'd known plenty of fear in this world - but this was different.

This was the moment my heart broke.

I wasn't going to make it back to my kids.

I wasn't going to make it back to Daryl.

The tears came hard and fast, burning as they carved tracks down my dirt-streaked cheeks.

All I could see was Daryl - cradling Briar and Sawyer, laughing with them, brushing their hair back behind their ears like he did when they were asleep.

Would they remember my voice?

Would they remember how I held them when they were sick?

Would Daryl ever be whole again?

Would they know how hard I fought not to leave them all?

How hard I loved them?

I closed my eyes and let the tears keep falling. Because there was nothing else I could do.

Not anymore.

~

I'd been sobbing for what felt like hours, though it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. My hands trembled as I pressed them down hard against the torn, bloody mess of my thigh, trying and failing to stop the bleeding. The pain was overwhelming, like white-hot fire pouring through every nerve. Darkness kept teasing the edges of my vision, and I clung to consciousness like it was the only rope keeping me tethered to life.

And then the cabin door slammed open.

"Ath?!"

Daryl's voice cracked like a thunderclap, ripping through the silence. My heart lurched.

"Daryl," I sobbed, barely believing it was really him.

He was across the room in a blink, crashing to his knees beside me so fast it shook the floor. His hands trembled as they hovered over me - frantic, desperate - as if trying to touch every inch of me at once just to make sure I was real.

"Holy shit, baby..." he panted, his voice splintering like something breaking inside of him. But I could hear it - the relief. The wild, aching relief that he'd found me still breathing.

"Are they okay!?" I cried out through choked sobs. "Are our babies okay!?"

"They're safe," he reassured me, and his voice steadied as he kicked into action, yanking off his belt with shaking hands. "They're with Merle."

He wrapped the belt tight around my thigh, cutting off the blood flow. I screamed, the pain sending fire up my spine, and Daryl's hand instantly cradled my face.

"I've got ya," he whispered, as if his voice could somehow hold me together. "I've got ya."

"They're not safe at the Kingdom!" I gasped, trying to keep my panic from taking over. "Nobody is!"

"Shhh." His thumb brushed my cheek. "Merle won't let nothin' happen to 'em... Who did this? Whisperers?"

I nodded. "Henry's dead." I blurted out through my tears.

His whole body went still.

"No." The word tore out of him like it hurt.

"Frankie... Tammy-Rose... others," I choked. "They killed them."

He blinked, lost for a moment in the horror of it, his face folding with anguish. I saw it hit him - the grief he'd carry for Carol. He blinked again, rapidly, trying to pull himself together.

"Ya get out alone?" he rasped.

I shook my head, weakly. "Enid, Tara, Siddiq... we ran. I don't know where they are. Daryl... the kids aren't safe. You need to get back to them. Alpha. She could go back to the Kingdom."

He looked like I'd punched the air from his lungs. Panic shimmered behind his eyes again.

"Be locked down," he said quickly. "Ezekiel knows ya were taken... they'll know others are missin' now too."

He was trying to calm me, trying to stop the bleeding in my leg, trying to quell my panic. But it wasn't working. I could see how the fear burst into his eyes the second I mentioned our children.

"Need to wrap this," he muttered, scanning the room for something to use. " 'N' we're gonna get straight back to 'em. Keep 'em safe. Promise."

He replaced his hand with mine over the wound, careful but quick, and hurried toward a bundled-up sheet in the corner. The moment he started tearing it into strips, I heard it.

Groaning outside. Lots of it.

It sounded like a small herd.

No. Not now. Not like this.

I saw the realization wash over Daryl's face the instant he heard it too. He glanced toward the door, then to me, then down at the makeshift bandage he was tying around my thigh. His jaw clenched as he moved back to grab more of the shreds of fabric. We both knew what this meant.

And in that instant, everything shifted.

I knew.

I knew that if he tried to carry me, I'd bleed out before we made it twenty feet.

I knew that if he stayed, the herd would reach us, and we'd both die.

But most of all, I knew this - our babies weren't safe until he got back to them. Nobody could protect them like him.

So I made the hardest decision of my life, and I did the last thing I ever thought I'd do.

I reached for the gun beside me. My hand closed around it. My heart shattered into pieces.

I lifted it, and pointed it at the man I loved more than life itself.

His eyes widened in horror as he turned. The gun wasn't loaded - but he didn't know that.

"Ath... What the f-"

"You have to go," I croaked, my voice so raw it hurt to speak. "You can't move me. If you try, I'll bleed out."

His face contorted like I'd stabbed him.

"No, no," he breathed, shaking his head. "We'll- shit, we'll find a way, I'll carry ya. I'll-"

"You can't."

"Ath-"

"You have to. You have to get out of here... back to our babies."

The words tasted like poison in my mouth. My hand shook, but I didn't lower the gun. I couldn't.

"Ain't leavin' without ya," he rasped. "Ain't leavin' ya here."

The snarls outside grew louder. Closer.

I didn't flinch. "Go. Daryl, please."

"No. No, hell no. Ya ain't askin' me-"

"I'm telling you." I looked him dead in the eye, tears burning like acid down my cheeks. "You can hear what's coming. You know there isn't time."

His whole body shook. "Ya ain't dyin' here, Ath. I'll fight 'em... I'll fight 'em all-"

"You still can't move me. You know you can't."

"I gotta try."

"Get out of here."

"Ain't happenin'!" he yelled, losing his temper in desperation as he stepped toward me - eyes flicking to the gun - not caring that it was aimed at him. "Ya'll have to kill me before I leave without ya."

I knew he meant it.

So I did the only thing left.

I turned the gun on myself and pressed it to my temple.

He stopped cold.

"Ath," he whispered, tears welling and voice shredded. "Don't."

"You have to protect them," I whispered, the tears blurring everything. "You promised."

"I'm beggin' ya, baby," he dropped to his knees, tears free-falling down his face. His hand came to rest over mine, trying to lower the barrel. "Don't do this... please."

"I love you," I breathed, sobbing again. "But you know they come first... They need their Dad."

"They need their mom!" he cried, wrenching the gun from my hand and throwing it across the room with a roar. "I need ya!"

"We won't make it past the walkers before I bleed out."

"Stop!" his voice cracked under the weight of too much pain. "I can't leave ya!"

The walkers were nearly on us. I could hear them. I had seconds to convince him. I didn't know what else to do.

So I lied.

"Alpha knows we took Lydia. She's coming after our kids because we took hers. You have to get back to them."

The color drained from Daryl's face. He looked like I'd just ripped his soul out.

"She told me," I added, voice trembling. "She knew their names."

He clenched his hands into fists against the floorboards, trembling.

"You have to go." I continued. "They could be back at the Kingdom already."

"Ath..." His voice collapsed in on itself. "Please let me try- please let me carry-"

"I'll die for sure if you do."

He was being faced with the most impossible decision imaginable. I hated letting him believe our kids were being targeted. It felt inhumanely cruel - but I was trying to save him.

"Fuck!" he roared, slamming his fist straight through the floor. "Fuck!"

Then, he crumbled.

He collapsed forward, arms braced, his head down. The sound of his sobs ripped through the room like thunder. It wasn't crying - it was howling. It was the kind of grief that changed the shape of a soul.

And I just slumped there, helpless, bleeding and in love with a man being torn in two.

Then, slowly, he pushed himself upright.

His face - red, wet, shaking - locked onto mine. And I saw it. The moment the realization took root. He was going. Not because he wanted to. Because he had to.

He loved me with every inch of his being. I knew that. But Briar and Sawyer - they were his world. He'd sworn to always protect them, no matter what. No matter the cost.

He stood like a man carrying every ounce of pain in the universe, and moved toward a battered armoire in the corner. He tore it open, ripped the doors clean off, then retrieved the gun from where it had landed. His hands trembled as he came back to me, but his eyes never left mine.

"Ya stay under this." He begged, trying to keep his voice firm despite his tears. "Ya don't come out. Promise me."

I didn't even have time to nod before he knelt, carefully repositioning me to lie on the floor - his touch trembling like every movement might be the last.

He looked into my eyes as he cupped my face.

And in those beautiful blues, I saw everything.

Love. Rage. Sorrow. Fear. The raw ache of being forced to leave me behind - of wondering if he'd ever see me again.

I reached up and touched his cheek. "I love you so much." My voice cracked under the weight of it. "Go protect our babies."

"Yur the best thing that ever happened to me," he choked. "I love ya so much, baby. I can't- Fuck- I can't do this."

"You can. You have to."

As if on cue, undead fingers began clawing at the walls of the cabin. A confirmation of my words.

He nodded shakily, his heartbreak cascading down my fingers in wet streams.

Then he leant down and kissed me - It was everything.

Wild, desperate and soaked in tears. The salt mixed on our lips. His hand tangled in my hair like he'd never let go. I could feel every beat of his heart, every breath, every shattered piece of him breaking against me.

"M'comin' back for ya," he whispered shakily against my mouth. "Swear to God, it don't end like this. Please jus' hold on, Ath. Please."

I nodded. I didn't promise. I couldn't.

"I love you." We both whispered again, like a prayer we didn't want to end, as he concealed me beneath the armoire. Careful, precise, shielding - leaving just a sliver for air.

I could hear his desperate sobs again as he reluctantly moved for the door.

It shut behind him. I heard him quickly trying to barricade it.

Then came the fight.

I heard his grunts, the heavy blows, the snarls. And I laid there, trapped under wood, unable to help. Every sound tore at me like teeth.

More tears came.

Harder. Deeper. I couldn't stop them.

That kiss - if it was our last - would carry me to the end. But it wasn't enough.

There was so much more I wanted to say.

I wanted to make sure he knew that how - from the first moment I met him - my soul recognized something I hadn't even known was missing. That he changed me, healed me. That I never believed in fate until him.

I wanted him to know how proud I was of the father he'd become, how Briar and Sawyer would grow up knowing the purest, fiercest kind of love because of him.

I hadn't told him goodbye. I couldn't.

All I could do was pray that he'd make it back to our babies. And that maybe, just maybe, I somehow might, too.

A/N: Wow, that was heavy to write. 💔😭

I can't imagine Daryl being forced to make that choice. I hope I did it justice.