51. I Know the End

'if you must die, I'll envy
even the earth that wraps
your body.'
-albert camus

⤐

Daryl's first initial thought was that she was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen.

  He loosened his grip around Zeppelin's shaking wrist, the tip of her blade hovering dangerously close to the center of his throat. They stared at each other, their gazes unwavering.

Even wild and disheveled, adorned with bruises and blood that he suspected did not only belong to her, Zeppelin was so beautiful. He couldn't help but think that's what angels must look like. Although now, she was closer to an angel of Hell.

  His second thought was that he would find whoever did this to her and show them what Hell is.

  As if something between them ignited, propelling them towards each other, they both reached out, their hands grasping and clawing for each other as Daryl pulled her into the shadows of the nearest room. She felt like a lifeline, like if he let go for even one second, he'd drown.

  His hands roamed Zepp's neck, her shoulders, arms, face, and hair. He couldn't get enough of the feeling of her. He would think he was dreaming if it weren't for the blistering pain in his side, the brush of her skin against his fingers, and her breathy sobs mingling with his own.

But it's real, all of it; she was here, right in front of him. He kissed her hard, then again and again.

Real, real, real.

Even before he'd been held prisoner for far too long, his brain had never fully understood how someone like her could exist in his world, could hold him and touch him, even look at him. She's real.

  Real, real, real.

It took him far too long to find the words his tongue begged to utter but had been far too interested in her mouth to bother. "Ace," he breathed, verging on a cry as he pressed his hands against the sides of that beautiful, beautiful face. He tried to be aware of the pressure of his palms.

  Zepp grinned, wide and wild, and a sound escaped her bruised throat- almost like laughter while choking back a sob. The fingers on her right hand were shaking fiercely as she raised them to his chin, trailing down his jaw and neck as if she couldn't quite believe he was there yet.

  Real, real, real.

  "Daryl." The fire alarms screamed, but it all faded at the sound of her voice. "You're here," she said, her head tilted. "You're really here."

  His knees buckled, almost giving out at the echo of his name.

  "I'm here."

  He wrapped his hands around the back of her head and pulled her into him, forgetting everything else but the way her skin was hot to the touch, the racing beat of her heart, the sound of her soft cries as she fought for her breath, everything that was her wrapping around his every nerve. Even the aching pain riddling his body was just a sluggish pumping.

  All that mattered now was her.

  Then he was painfully aware- aware of how hard he was pressing her delicate waist into his. Aware of the cloth wrapped around her arm, covered in a mess of blood and dirt. Aware of the black and blue flesh around her bloodshot eyes and the gnarly swelling of her nose.

"I'm so sorry." The words were only a whisper between their mouths. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Daryl repeated over again, the cries broken between their lips crushing together.

  He failed... he failed her.

Near the end, he found some consolation that it was him and not her. He told himself that she was safe and warm, pictured her smiling and golden as he always saw her. But seeing her this way now, broken and bleeding, he knew... he failed to keep her safe.

Get a hold of yourself. Get her out of here.

He ran his hands down her neck and through her hair, searching for the answers to a million questions in her tear-rimmed eyes.

All of them would have to wait.

"C'mon." Daryl laced his fingers through hers, tugging her through the dim hallway. Instinct took over, shoving down his need to stop and look at her. The Saviors would be on them soon if they weren't around the corner already.

Despite her limp, she kept pace with him as they pushed through the thick smoke. He eventually had to push himself a little to stay next to her.

  The grip on his arm tightened, and they skidded to a stop as they rounded a sharp corner. Everything was moving too fast, or maybe too slow; his brain struggled to keep track of everything it wanted to focus on. The fire alarms in the halls behind them, the broken body of the woman he loves next to him, or the five Saviors stretched out across the hall, eagerly awaiting them.

  Zepp inched forward and gave them a lazy grin, an invitation that Daryl was not willing to hand out so easily. He instantly pulled her behind him despite the glare he felt burning into the back of his skull.

  The tallest of the men was vaguely familiar, and he chuckled as he slowly unsheathed the hatchet at his side. Daryl's gaze narrowed when he recognized the weapon- Rick's hatchet.

  "Can the lady come out to play?" The Savior called out, his voice breathy and worn thin, as if they'd sprinted here to catch her.

  Daryl felt the phantom weight of his bow across his shoulders. "Touch her and die," he growled back. The Saviors crept closer, and Daryl stepped back, reaching his arms around to push Zeppelin further behind him. As stealthily as he could manage, he slipped his fingers into the waistband of her jeans and grabbed the knife hidden there.

  The clink of metal piqued his interest, and his gaze fell to the cuffs dangling from one of their fists.

  Daryl's heart pulsed like the rhythm of a war drum. He'd die before he let them take either one of them captive. He was more than happy to do it.

  Only a few feet were between them now.

  He'd take out the tallest first, he decided. Then go for the largest. In the seconds Daryl spared to map out his victims, a flash of color in the corner of his eye snapped his focus.

  Zeppelin was already moving, her own hatchet flying through the air until it hit its mark: the center of the tallest soldier's chest. The other men rushed forward before his body had even hit the ground.

  Daryl swiped at one, but the man ducked and swung his fist out until it connected with bone. His vision blurred, and he forced it back into focus in time to see one of them wrap their arms around Zepp and cross her arms over her chest. She thrashed and flailed like a feral cat caught in a snare, kicking her feet out at the other who rushed her and knocking both men off balance until she was freed.

  Daryl couldn't help the grin that spread across his face before quickly shoving the man closest to him into the concrete wall. He wiped a hand over his brow and turned to face Zepp again before the world turned to blackness.

⤐

  His hearing came back before his vision.

  "Don't you touch him," Zepp snarled, though her voice sounded very far away.

  Daryl groaned as his eyes finally cracked open, and he attempted to sit up in the dark room. His blood ran cold when he felt the cold sting of metal around his wrists, which were cuffed and wrapped around a pipe running along the side of the room. He still couldn't really make out where they were, and then he finally realized he had an incredibly thin blindfold tucked over his eyes.

  Zepp instantly knew he had gained consciousness. "Daryl," she croaked, her voice strained and husky.

  "Shut up," someone barked. "Damien, what's the situation up there?"

  The fuzzy crackle of static was the only sound in the room apart from heavy breathing. Daryl looked for Zepp, needed to see her face, but they must have tied him up facing the wall.

  After a long breath of silence, a voice finally responded. "Oh, we're making macaroni jewelry and braiding each other's hair," they snapped. "You guys are missing out."

  "Asshole," the man in the room grunted, though Daryl was sure his finger was not on that button when he said it.

  "We've almost got the dead ones handled," the voice continued. "Fire in the doc's room is out, but the kitchen's still got a little spark in her. Fuck man, what do you think the situation is? You got good news for me or not?" The impatience in his voice was crystal clear, even through the static.

  "I've got Daryl and the girl."

  Daryl could almost hear the smirk on his face as he said it and thought Zepp was thinking the same thing by the way her breathing increased.

  "Well, goddamn! Why didn't you say so, my friend? Bring her on up. What are you waiting for?"

  "She's a fighter," the man begrudgingly admitted. Zepp chuckled, and the sound sent a chill down even Daryl's spine. "It ain't gonna be easy."

  "Too bad, figure it out. Just remember, the boss wants her alive."

  Daryl fought against his restraints, ignoring the way the metal pressed into his bone.

  "And the asshole?"

  Zepp's breath stilled as if a sudden, immense calmness had washed over her.

  "Leave him there, who gives a fuck? I gotta get back to the cafeteria." The walkie clicked off, and it felt like the world itself had paused.

  Boots scuffed on the concrete, the sound fading away behind Daryl's plane of vision. "Well, you heard the man. Get her up."

  She snarled at them, and the sounds of crashing and a string of curses filled the air. She was fighting, struggling against hands touching her that Daryl could not see. It was enough to send him over the edge. "If you take her out of this room, I'll make sure you regret every fuckin' minute of the rest of your short life."

  Finally, the blindfold was ripped from his head, and his view adjusted. He twisted and turned, fighting for an angle to find Zepp in. They were held in what seemed to be an armory. Rows and rows of guns lined the walls, and tables littered with knives, axes, bows, and all sorts of melee weapons were scattered around the room.

  Then he saw her.

  She was being dragged out of the room by three others, her left hand desperately reaching out for Daryl just as she passed through the threshold.

  The man clicked his tongue in annoyance and rolled his eyes, decidedly bored with the whole thing. "I don't think I'll have to worry about you coming after me, shit bag." Then he was gone, and Daryl cried out in rage.

  He yanked on his chains, twisting until he thought his bones would snap. They slid along the pipe, allowing him to crawl over to the door. He had to see her, had to see which way they took her.

  He peeked around the corner, and squinted at the onslaught of dim light. What he saw nearly made him gasp.

  Zeppelin, his Zeppelin, ever the clever little thing, managed to slip a small katana right past the men as they dragged her from the room. She had shoved it straight through the throat of the man who was so certain he had nothing to worry about, and Daryl saw the blood splatter the walls as Zepp yanked the sword back out.

  The three others circled her like a pack of wolves, and she was the prey. She smiled again, knowing exactly what would make them pounce. Daryl pulled on the cuffs again and again, his wrists slicing against the cold steel.

  He could only watch, in fear and awe. Watch as she cut through them all, as if they were nothing but stalks of grass. She was a flash of steel and blood. There was no mercy on her face, no fear either. It stopped his heart.

  This beautiful woman, who now looked more creature than human, had finally given in to the lethal darkness that he always knew slithered just below the surface.

  He wondered if the word love was strong enough for what he felt for her.

  She reached the last man, and he fell to his knees just as his knife clattered to the floor. She held the sword to him, the tip hovering inches from his left eyeball.

  "Unchain him. Now." Her voice was strange, an unearthly calmness radiating from her.

  "I will, I will," the man slobbered, digging in his pockets for the keys. She watched his every move, the sword never wavering. He took too long.

  She drove the katana through his eye, then tossed it to the floor as if the steel had burned her. When the man finally stopped twitching, she yanked the keys from his pockets herself and turned back to Daryl.

  Whatever she saw in his gaze, her cheeks burned red, even under the glaze of blood smeared across her face. She dropped to his level and quickly unlocked the cuffs, tossing them to the side with the sword. His hands were on her in seconds.

  They held each other for a moment, as if they both needed that tether to the real world in those few seconds. She smelled like smoke and iron, but underneath it all was still her, and Daryl breathed in deeply before he scrambled to his feet.

  They grabbed as many weapons as they could, including their family's: Rick's hatchet, Rosita's knife, Carl's pistol. When Zeppelin found her own dagger, she smiled, flipping it in her hands a few times like she had missed it dearly. Daryl's bow wasn't in the armory, and he didn't need to guess to know which rat kept it close to him at all times. He didn't have time to worry about that now.

  More corners, more halls. He had a sense of where they were now, but every twist and turn they took sent a spike through his heart.

  The door should be close by now. We're almost there.

  "Daryl," she murmured, slowing his steps. They had bolted around another corner, and she'd seen the danger long before he did.

  The wailing groans of walkers ambling towards them made his skin crawl, instinctively shielding Zepp behind him as he counted the bodies. Only a few, one of them a big boy with his throat slit clean open. Probably her doing.

They would be easy enough to take down. He looked back at Zepp, anticipating her to follow his steps- that's when he realized she didn't stop for the walkers.

  Her gaze was turned away from him, fixed on a yellow, rusted metal door labeled 'BOILER ROOM.'

  Her jaw was clenched, even with the purplish knot adorning it, and her shoulders were visibly tense. The fatter corpse reached out for them, and Daryl swiftly stabbed it through the temple. The others were far enough away that he could spare the moment to grab onto Zepp, twisting her around to face him with a force he fought to keep gentle.

It was as though she was looking right through him, seeing something that wasn't there.

  "We gotta go," Daryl pleaded with her, checking the hall behind him. "There ain't much time, Ace." He could see the gears turning in her mind, the thirst for revenge sparking in the emerald whorls of her eyes. She shook her head, so faintly that a man less in love with her would've missed it.

  "He doesn't deserve to move on. None of them do," she whispered, hardly a breath in the air. She shoved him quickly to the side, tossing her knife straight between the eyes of the walker closest to his back before she turned back to the door, flinging it open and darting inside before he could argue.

  "Fuck," Daryl growled, checking each side of the corridor before following, hot on her heels as she unzipped her bag.

She's going to get us both killed...

  At least I'll die next to her.

The faint sound of water dripping onto the concrete floor of the boiler room made his chest clench, the dim blackness and the smell of mildew forcing him to remember the darkness of his cell. He shook it off, focusing on Zepp as she peered around the different equipment.

  There were a few generators, pipes scattered around the ceiling, water pumps, and other random pieces of metal that he didn't even know what they were used for. He caught a small smile on her swollen lips as she spotted three large industrial boilers in the center of the room, small flames flickering underneath the rounded metal.

  "Check the door," she ordered, pulling out a molotov she created with a nameless whiskey bottle and a scrap of faded white cloth.

He rolled his eyes and grunted a half-assed response, annoyed that she didn't take their chance to run. Even when he was too angry to form words, he'd always answer to her. One way or another.

  He carefully peered around the threshold. The hallway was clear, apart from the greyish smoke wafting around the corner.

Shouting and thundering footsteps far in the distance sent a shudder down his spine and turned the blood in his veins to ice. The Saviors were preoccupied for now, but how long could that last?

  He turned his head back to her, one foot already out the door, and let out a low whistle, their familiar call to each other.

She whistled back, low and broken, yet she grinned as she jogged over to him, one hand gripping the lighted molotov and the other reaching out for him. "You with me?" She asked as if that was ever a question.

  "Always."

  She nodded and gripped the neck of the bottle, aiming it towards the center boiler as they both prepared their tired bodies to run.

"One.. two.. three!"

She threw the bottle, and then everything was a blur.

The thundering sound hit him slower than the sudden blast of light did, both searing into his very core as they threw themselves into the hallway. The concrete behind them shattered, and he tucked her body under his as they tumbled to the floor, pelted with debris and smoke as the building crumbled around them. The heat was sweltering as fire ravaged the room, its creeping flames licking the ceiling and doorway. He groaned and pulled Zepp to her feet, wrapping one arm around her shoulder as they limped away from the carnage.

Then came the shockwave.

It felt like blistering pulses against his skin, knocking them both to the ground again as it spread through them. His ears rang so sharply it felt like a dagger being shoved through his eardrums, piercing the tender flesh and melting his brain. He struggled to his feet, gripping Zepp's waist tightly as he pulled her up with him.

  "Come on, Ace," he groaned, though he couldn't hear his own voice anymore. "Come on, baby, we gotta go." He pushed her ahead of him, blocking her from the screams wailing out from behind them.

  She coughed strenuously, the movement shaking her shoulders as they staggered down the destroyed hallway. She leaned over to snag her knife back from the walker's rotting skull, tripping on the broken concrete.

  Everything was sort of muffled now, besides the ringing in his ears, but he thought he heard her cry out as she stumbled next to him.

  Walkers encased beneath the rubble stretched out for them, one rotten hand wrapping around Zepp's calf. Daryl quickly stomped its skull hard, the heel of his boot slamming into its forehead, then again until it released its grip on her.

"D- Daryl," she panted, reaching back for his hand. He tilted his head towards hers, watching her as they pulled themselves down the smoky hall. The dim lights passed over her face, and what he saw twisted his gut into an icy knot. Her pupils didn't dilate with the light.

  He grunted and pulled her arm over his shoulder, forcing her to lean her weight against him as they stumbled closer to the door. He could see the sunlight creeping through the edges, calling to them through the ash fog surrounding them. Piles of debris and wreckage forced them to weave side to side through the hall, dodging trapped corpses and sharp steel rods poking out from the destroyed concrete. Through the pounding ringing in his ears, he could hear another section of the building crumble, giving way to the explosive fire raging from below.

  He so badly wanted just to stop and hold her, to make everything around them pause, and focus on just being with her again. He wanted to bask in the cozy golden light she seemed to radiate, the calmness and comfort that washed over him whenever she was close, like a warm summer rain trickling down his bare skin.

  Just get her out of here. Get her out of here, and you'll have all the time you need.

  When they finally reached the door, he gently unwrapped her arm from around him and let her lean against the wall as he shoved his shoulder into the hard steel. Dread gripped at him, sinking its icy claws into his stomach and lacing cobwebs up his spine. The lot was empty, only a few motorcycles parked outside and the promise of freedom.

That's what he thought the first time he found himself here.

He looked back at Zepp, hunched against the wall with her eyes half closed and her pistol clutched against her chest. If this were the last time he'd see her, he'd soak in as much as he could.

"Stay here," he muttered and stepped out the door. Even the dim sunlight was blinding to his cell-adjusted eyes, the fresh air piercing his hardly used lungs. Yet every prick of pain brought him one step closer to escaping.

  He sprinted over to the bikes, searching for one with a key. They deserved just a bit of luck at least once in their life. Maybe he didn't deserve it, but Zeppelin did.. she deserved everything.

  And if there is a god, he was listening to Daryl now. Right in the center was a beautiful Harley, black with a red stripe on each side of the tank and a tiny silver keychain dangling out of the ignition. He felt his lips tug into a smile before he shook it away. There was no time for that now. The lot was still clear, but he guessed it would only be minutes before the Saviors started evacuating the dismantled warehouse. The fire had reached the second level now, shattering the windows, or maybe that was just the building itself falling apart. Either way, good.

  Just as he turned to go back for her, the thread of hope he was clinging to snapped.

Zepp tumbled out the door, collapsing onto her hands and knees in the rough asphalt.

"Ace!" He shouted, forcing his voice out of his dry, sandpaper-like lungs and past his hollow chest. The four seconds it took to run to her were four seconds too long, and he mentally cursed himself for letting her stay inside. He skidded to a halt and fell to his knees, ignoring the way the ground lightly shredded his pants and skin as he wrapped his arms around her.

She shook her head weakly, pushing him away and pointing to the door as she coughed up a chunk of blood. She didn't have to say anything. She never did. He knew.

He had two more seconds to jump to his feet before Fat Joey came bumbling outside, one hand clutching a crowbar while the other pressed against his face. Blood poured from a gash sliced across his thick cheek, exposing the sinewy flesh there. He groaned as he shakily swung the crowbar high above his head, aiming directly for her.

Crimson red flooded Daryl's vision, as red as the blood covering Zepp's face. He threw himself at the much bigger man, shoulder first into his stomach to knock him back. Fat Joey faltered, stumbling and tripping backward as he dropped the metal bar. Daryl could see Zepp in his peripheral vision, calmly rising to her feet and flipping her knife in her hands, ready to strike. He threw himself at Fat Joey again, forcing him to fall to the ground before he picked up the crowbar.

Try not to think about it too much. Makes it harder.

  He swung the crowbar before he could give himself a chance to hesitate, firmly down onto Fat Joey's skull.

  Then again.

  And again.

  With every swing, he released all the rage he felt boiling inside of him. For Abe, for Glenn, for his own capture and torture, but most of all, for Zepp.

  Everything he did was for her.

  He didn't realize he was still swinging until he felt Zepp's small but firm hand on his shoulder, trailing down to grip his bicep. He flinched, eyes darting between her and the bloody pile of brains and flesh below him. He dropped the bar, the sharp tink as it hit the ground ringing in his ears, just as another boom escaped the concrete building. Flames danced in the doorway, taunting them with their scalding streaks.

  "C'mon," he grunted and laced his hand through Zepp's, pulling her towards the bike and away from the destruction. He took one small moment to put his hands on either side of her head, paying particular attention to her eyes as he scanned her face.

  "You okay to ride?" He murmured, wiping the sweaty curls away from her forehead.

  "I'm okay," she managed to say with a slight nod.

  He hopped on the bike, twisting the key as she sat behind him and wrapped both arms around his waist. The cycle sang to life beautifully, purring as he quickly turned it around and headed towards the main gate. No guards, too worried about the chaos unfolding in the warehouse.

  Perfect.

  They rolled right through like they were meant to be leaving, the forest inviting them into its warm circle of protection. The low evening sun washed over the trees like a golden yellow ocean streaked with oranges and blues. For the first time since he'd been taken, he noticed birds singing again.

  He felt Zepp's head rest between his shoulder blades, and she released some of the pressure from around his middle. He tapped her arm twice and twisted his face to the side. "Hang on, Ace, just keep hanging on to me. Don't fall asleep, okay?"

  He felt her nod, though weakly, and wrapped her arms tighter around him. Just a bit more time... just enough to get away from the Sanctuary to someplace quiet and safe, somewhere she can rest and heal. He forced the bike to move as fast as it would go, the trees around them all melting together into one faded blur.

  Once he was sure they were a few miles out, he slowed enough to let his eyes glaze over their surroundings. He realized he had no idea where they actually were in proximity to Alexandria, but he knew they couldn't go back there now. If Negan made it out of this alive, that's the first place he'd look for them. Maybe Hilltop would take them in.

  As if she read his thoughts, she tapped the back of his shoulder and pointed to their right. He pulled off to the side, slowing down as the road gave way to a compact dirt path. She pointed again to a thick oak tree, unable to push the words past her bruised throat. He smiled when he saw the tiny X carved in the center, her trademark tracking signal.

  Walkers crept through the trees, reminding him that he couldn't entirely escape the nightmare that was this world, and couldn't have anything truly good without putting up a fight. But it doesn't matter, he thought as he slowly weaved around them.

  Zeppelin was here.

  She found him.

  She was a fucking survivor, strong and tough, and also kind.. loyal.. smart.. the kind of person he had always wanted to be.

  They would fight this world, together.

  And they'll win.