Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.

It took me years to understand
that this, too, was a gift.

The Uses of Sorrow by Mary Oliver

I read this poem in a story by a fantastic and amazing writer on AO3, dynamicsymmetry. I'd never heard of this poet, I'm not one for reading poetry. But this poem touched something dark and deep inside me. And I started writing this story in part because of the poem. I also got the idea from another writer here on Fanfiction, Mistyeye. She mentioned the rumor of a female character on season 6 of TWD that could maybe possibly be an interest for Daryl. So that along with the above poem is what started this story unraveling in my head. Hope you enjoy.

Box Full of Darkness

Chapter 1

Rick's group had arrived in Alexandria and each of them had their meeting with Deanna at which they are told they must each meet at least once with the community counselor. Which just makes each of them groan and moan and complain.

Each person, over the course of the next three weeks sees the counselor and comes back gushing about her. She's not pushy, not a know it all, in fact she's told each one of them that if they want to continue to come talk to her fine, if not that's fine as well. Each person tells Daryl privately that he should talk to this woman-Olivia Buckley-because she's really nice, not like a doctor at all and maybe she can help him.

No one says out loud what they hope she can help Daryl with-his intense, unrelenting grief and guilt over Beth's death. They are all worried about him. He's never been talkative-now they rarely get even a grunt out of him. He's never seemed to need much sleep-now he has bags under bags under circles under his eyes and some days he seems to be asleep on his feet with his eyes wide open. He rarely eats. He's never been a big man, but he's rapidly become gaunt.

Daryl has waved them each away impatiently. He doesn't need to talk to anyone. He's fine. His life has always been shit, it always will be shit. He thought there for a brief time with Beth he might find a tiny bit of happiness, contentment to ease the constant ache in his soul –but he lost Beth then lost her again permanently when she was shot and died. He doesn't like to sleep because he just keeps reliving that goddam moment over and over. It never changes, he never gets to save her even in his dreams.

So he goes about the daily business of putting one foot in front of the other, going outside the wall sometimes for two or three days at a time to hunt-or so he says. It's really about getting away from the walls and the strangers and the feeling that he's going to suffocate or come completely unhinged in there. He wasn't raised in a house that had schedules and rules and regular meals and clean clothes and smiling faces. He doesn't know how to deal with that. Especially now when he knows it's all an illusion, that this all could vanish at any moment and they'd all be back outside the walls trying to survive from day to day.

Another week goes by, another week of worried looks cast his way. Murmurs of concern as he walks through the house or on the street. Which only makes him feel more restless, angry, anxious. He's smoking more in an attempt to defuse this nervous energy he has now, but it's not helping. He thinks briefly about getting hold of a bottle and just getting shit house drunk-but what if there was an emergency? What if walkers got in? What if because he was drunk one of his people got killed or injured? No, he didn't need any more guilt to carry around with him than he already had.

It's a clear night, everyone's asleep in his house. They're still all in one house, not quite comfortable enough yet to split up into two or even three houses. They are however sleeping better-not as many nightmares, sleeping more deeply. He often wanders about the house-he's quiet, no one hears him. He wanders from room to room, floor to floor, checking on everyone. He feels like he's the groups guard dog-that although they've let their guard down, he hasn't. And because they know he hasn't they feel safe, they can sleep knowing he's awake and alert and on watch.

He goes outside and starts to wander the streets. It's midnight, the entire town is sleeping except for those on watch at the wall. And there are too few of those on watch in his opinion. He lights a cigarette and wanders down random streets. He's been pretty much everywhere in this town, nosed around buildings and examined the wall and its supports extensively. But there are a few streets he hasn't really paid much attention to. They have smaller houses, back to one side of the community. Maybe the first houses they built before whoever was in charge got the brilliant idea that an experimental community should be full of McMansions when smaller houses would have allowed more people to reside there. He shook his head in disgust. It figured that it would take the end of the world before he could live in a sturdy house with running water and lights, enough food so he wouldn't go hungry, and nice furniture and soft beds.

He continued to wander aimlessly, smirking at the thought of what ol' Merle would have to say about all this. And then, as always, his mind slid to Beth. Beth would've loved this place. She would have felt safe, happy. He would've been happy watching her be happy. The ache that never goes away flares up and he stops, his chest tight and burning with all the unshed tears in him. How he can have any left is beyond him. He's spent whole days outside the wall just crying for hours, making noises he'd only ever heard animals make when they were caught in a trap. Everything he's been through in his goddam life, and he'd never felt this –there wasn't even a word he could call to mind what this was. Pain worse than any physical pain he'd ever experienced. Most times he has to stuff something in his mouth to keep from screaming out loud. It wasn't just the walkers hearing him that he feared-he was starting to be sure that if he ever started screaming he would never stop.

As he stood trying to breathe, trying not to just fall to his knees and start screaming, he heard something. He immediately looked about, alerting to his surroundings. He tried to concentrate to tell what direction the noise had come from. It sounded like…water? Splashing?

He strode cautiously in the direction he thought the sound was coming from. He crossed a few lawns of the smaller houses and came to stand at a fence surrounding the back yard of one of the smaller of the small houses. He leaned forward slightly, slowing his breathing and frowning in concentration. Yes, that was splashing he'd heard. Not loud, not constant. It sounded almost like…he took a step closer to the fence and looking at it realized it was a privacy fence. The kind he'd seen at houses where folks had …..pools. His mouth dropped open momentarily. A pool? Here? He didn't remember seeing any pool here anywhere-although to be fair he hadn't looked in every single back yard of every single house.

Intrigued he looked around for something to boost himself up on so he could peer over the fence. He noticed a tree with some branches hanging over the fence into the yard and quickly crossed to it and grabbing the lower branch swung himself up on it. From here he could see clearly into the yard, and to his vast surprise there was indeed a pool. A very small in-ground pool, but a pool just the same. Not really big enough to do any laps in, not a lot of people would be able to swim in it at one time. But a pool. There were candles lit all around the cement surrounding the pool but the pool was still left partially in shadow. He heard the splashing again and he saw someone stepping out of the pool. He squinted and edged quietly along the branch to get a closer look.

It seemed to be a woman and she seemed to be alone. Of a sudden Daryl's face flushed red and he averted his eyes-she appeared to be skinny dipping. He felt a rush of embarrassment and swiftly crept backward on the branch and hopped down to the ground. He didn't want anyone to find him watching a stranger skinny dipping-he already had people shaking their heads about him and wanting him to see a counselor. He sure didn't need to be caught peeping at somebody.

Daryl walked quickly back to the street and rapidly distanced himself from the house. He made his way back to his group's house, only to find Carol sitting on the front steps. What the hell was she doing up in the middle of the night? He frowned in irritation. He'd gotten beyond tired already of her acting like she was his mom or big sister. He knew she did it out of concern for him, thought of him as her friend. But he didn't need anyone watching over him or correcting him or worrying over him. He'd done just fine without anyone coddling him all his life-he damn sure didn't need or want anyone doing so at this late stage.

He came to stand in front of her, and lit a cigarette-an obstinate look on his face in advance of what he thought she would say to him. To his surprise, Carol just looked at him and then rose and went back inside the house. Well. How about that? Daryl sighed with relief, and settled himself on the step Carol had just abandoned. As he smoked, his mind started to wander back to that house. And that pool. And that naked woman swimming in it. He was intrigued, curious, interested. For the first time in weeks. Unconsciously he smiled at the thought of having something to think about other than Merle and Beth and his grief.