It happened over night.

In barely twelve hours, her life had changed dramatically and in ways no one in the prison had seen coming.

The woman who had been first up every morning to make breakfast for everyone, was now bed ridden. Unable to move from the position she fell into under the sheets. The woman who always had a smile on her lips, gracing everyone with it no matter how hard the day, could now only grimace in pain. The woman who had always been the calming wave in the group, with her soft steady voice, now left those around her scrambling.

Her son had sought out Daryl Dixon the moment he found his mother's sickly body still in bed. The boy had burst into the redneck's cell at the end of the hall in a whirl of worry. It was rare of someone to show up to Daryl's cell, and that mixed with the look upon the boy's face told Daryl that something was wrong.

"She's burning up and she can't move."

At first thought, Daryl questioned if she had gotten bit somehow. But as the boy shared with him her other symptoms on the way to her cell, it sounded as though she had caught some sort of illness over the course of the night.

The boy, who was no older than fifteen, rambled on as they drew closer to her cell. His voice was flooded with fear and worry as he explained his mother's condition to the redneck. And although some of his words came out in a way that made them hard to understand, Daryl listened to the teenager with his ears wide open.

As they reached the cell in which the boy's mother resided, Daryl inhaled a deep breath. He hid it from the boy; but Daryl was filled to the brim with fear and anxiety just like the kid.

"Mom?" The boy spoke softly as they entered the cell. Daryl stayed back a ways in the doorway, observing the boy as he neared his mother's bedside. And just like the boy had told him, she didn't look good.

Her skin was pale; a sickly shade of white. But Daryl had seen the color of her flesh just the day before, and it was as tanned as could be. Her hair stuck to the sides of her neck that shone with a sheet of sweat. Her blonde tangles looking more messy than her natural waves Daryl noticed. The sheets were pulled up high over her petite body, showing only her collarbone and the thin straps of the pale pink tank top she wore.

She looked older than she really was. The nestle of bedding and the sick look in her eyes made her look years ahead. She was young when she had her son, and she was still years younger than Daryl was. Many more so. But here, she looked like an older woman withering away in her bed. And the sight made Daryl's chest tight.

But her lips, the single sight of them now made Daryl's mouth go dry. Gone were the pale pink lips that once graced her smile, and left behind was a frown with blood collecting in the edges. She coughed blood up as though she had taken a drink of something that didn't sit well in her system. And the trails of blood around her mouth and down the sides of her face were the only sign of color on the poor woman's body now.

"Stay here," Daryl told the boy as he tried to keep his anxiety out of his voice. "I'm gonna go get Hershel."

The prison hallways had never felt longer to Daryl Dixon as they did that day. Each step felt like it would never bring him closer to his aimed destination. And as he walked by himself, he found his heart beating faster than appropriate. Daryl knew it was the fear of her condition that took his body hostage. That made his mind swirl with endless thoughts and his heart beat with troubling strength and emotion. But as he grew closer to Hershel's cell, he recalled something she had once told him.

"One step at a time. It's all we can do. One day... one step... one breath at a time."

And so, in a time he could imagine her giving this advice to him, he decided to take it. And as he walked briskly back to her cell with the old man hobbling along beside him, Daryl found himself breathing deeply and slowly as he repeated her words in his mind.

If only she had a piece of advice for herself right now.

Days passed agonizingly slow, and over that short span of time, others grew ill just as she had. So many so, that they had to section off a cell block just for the weak and the infected.

Daryl saw each hour it seemed, someone new making their way to that cell block. Someone showing the same symptoms just as she had. The fever, the chills and sweats, the vomiting of blood and paleness that sucked the color of life from their bodies. Glenn had caught it, and he too was moved away from his wife and the others. Left to get well in that cell block, if getting well was even an option left anymore. The threat was growing, and Daryl began to fear the worst. Everyone did.

"There's a place," Daryl spoke softly to her that night, his voice making it through the glass window separating them. "a place not too far from 'ere. They supposed to have medicine. Things that can help."

She was wrapped tightly in a wool blanket as her thin shoulders shook beneath the needed warmth. And her blonde mess of tangles were pulled up and away from her face that shown with sweat.

"And you're going?" She whispered. And those three words seemed to leave her short of breath, as though she had just ran a marathon.

Daryl's eyes lifted slightly, and his gaze collided with hers. Her eyes were hollow now, the skin of her face sunken in somehow. And even with the white color of her flesh, her eyes still held the green color Daryl secretly loved.

"Mhm," Daryl nods, chewing nervously on his thumbnail.

"Be careful." She whispered to him, and Daryl couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the sick yet still beautiful woman.

"You're in there near dying and ye still worrying bout me?" Daryl couldn't keep the dry chuckle out of his words but he knew his slight laugh didn't bother her. For her pale blood tainted lips curved upward as best they could, into the shadow of her old smile.

"I could be dead Daryl, and still worry about you."

Her words shook just as her thinning body did, but they still managed to strike Daryl straight through the heart.

Although neither of them had acted on their infatuation with one another, there was an unspoken relationship beneath the surface that was clear to the both of them.

It was something that had started long ago, back on the Greene's family farm or maybe even before that. For Daryl, she had grasped his attention the moment she and her son entered the camp back at that old quarry. At first glance, Daryl saw how undeniably beautiful she was. But as time went on, he was drawn to her personality and her character. The way she cared for her son and those around her. Her selflessness. Her kindness. Her bravery.  The way she approached life now, with a bright smile and a courageous soul. But Daryl also saw the way she approached him. With no judgment or scrutiny towards the redneck, but with a heart full of grace and compassion.

"Won't be gone long," Daryl tells her, breaking from his trance. A regular occurrence these days whenever he was around her. Always getting flustered in her presence. "Gonna get what you need. What all of 'em need."

"I don't want you risking your life more than you need to for me Daryl Dixon." She warns him softly, her glimmering green eyes seeming to stare directly through the calloused man and straight into his soul.

But what Daryl doesn't tell her the moment those words escape her, is the truth. The truth that he would die for her any and every day if it meant keeping her safe and alive.

Instead, Daryl clears his throat of the lump forming and shakes his head softly. "Get some rest."

With a soft smile of her pale lips, she reaches forward. And her hand that seems more bone then flesh now, presses against the smooth glass separating the two of them. And as Daryl rises to his feet, he looks at the woman who withers away in front of him. The sight taking hold of his beating heart and crushing it until he is lost of all breath.

As the humid air in the room swirls around him, Daryl reaches his own hand forward. And soon his rough tanned hand is pressed against the glass, right on top of hers. And it's as if the glass isn't even there. For he swears he can feel the touch of her hand against his own.

And as Daryl stares at the sick but beautiful woman in front of him, it takes all his inner will to pull his hand away from hers and exit the room. Because a second longer, he knows he would've stayed.

Daryl walks down the quiet hallway on his way back to the other cell block, but just as he reaches a set of doors they open suddenly. And its the boy-- her boy-- that stands before him.

"Is it true?" His voice shakes as he asks the redneck. "That there's something that can get her well?"

Daryl nods his head faintly as he shoves his hands deep into his pockets. "Place close by. Gonna get whatever they got for us to have."

The boy swallows and Daryl watches him shift nervously from one foot to another.

"We're headin out in the mornin," Daryl tells the kid. "Gonna get her the medicine she needs."

But as Daryl stands before the young teenager, he can't help but remember the moment he just had with the boy's mother. And the emotion beating inside his hidden heart causes him to speak up once again.

"Promise me you'll look after your ma, while I'm gone."

The boy looks up then, his eyes wide as he looks at the older man.

"You're going with them?"

Daryl simply nods.

"Why can't you just stay here?"

Daryl's eyebrow raises in confusion, and he can feel the anxiety radiating off this kid.

"I ain't needed here, I'm needed out there to get all them back in that cellblock the supplies they been needing."

"My mom needs someone with her." The boy tells the redneck, and his arms wrap protective around himself.

"Your ma needs meds. I'm gonna get 'em for her. She don't need me sitting and staring at her. She needs meds and she needs you."

The boy looks down at his feet, and Daryl can feel his impatience rising.

"Well, why can't I go with you?" The boy's questions had begun to irk Daryl Dixon, but it wasn't until this one that his anger began to boil over into his response.

"Because you gotta step up, dammit!" Daryl snaps, and his voice echoes within the hallway walls around them. And his tone makes the boys head snap up quickly, his eyes wider than before.

"This is the time when you gotta step up and go against what you wanna do. What you want things to be like. Cause it ain't about you anymore. Its about her and getting her through this."

Daryl didn't understand how the boy could question every thing he was doing in order to save the kid's mother, yet he couldn't stay with her while they were gone. He didn't understand what was so difficult about taking care of his dying mother.

But just as Daryl is ready to walk past the boy, not giving the kid a second thought because of his selfish attitude, he spots a look on the young boy's face. One Daryl has known and felt before.

Inadequacy.

And it makes sense then.

The boy wanted Daryl to stay because he felt the man could take better care of his perishing mother than he could. He wanted to go with Daryl on the run so he could feel like he was doing his part in saving her somehow. He questioned and he argued because he didn't believe he could be enough for the woman back there.

And releasing a sigh, Daryl's head drops.

"She needs her son," Daryl says, his tone softening. "She needs her boy to sit with her and let her know she ain't alone."

The kid slowly raises his head back up, his eyes looking to Daryls watchful gaze.

"She's scared. You're scared. I'm scared." Daryl tells the boy. "But that don't mean we can just abandon her, we got to rally 'round her and let her know we got her."

Silence floats over the two men. One tall, strong and wiser with his age and life experiences. The other young and still growing into his own. But despite the differences that separate them, one thing brings them together.

The woman dying in the cellblock behind them.

Feeling as the night is dragging on and his words are left on a better note than before, Daryl begins to take steps past the boy and back down the hallway. But his feet stop instantly when the kid's voice echoes around him.

"Daryl?" The man turns to face the young boy. "You can count on me."

A small smile graces Daryl Dixon's lips. And as he walks out those doors, he can go to sleep knowing he won't have to worry half as much tomorrow when he leaves.

A/N: I was looking forward to writing this one and I think it turned out pretty good!❤