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Portraits of Us
One
Daryl knelt in the tall grass, tightening the last knot around the cross before shoving it in the loose dirt at Beth Greene's grave. He felt the comforting hand on his shoulder, something he'd felt all too often in the last few days. She was always there—his shadow—making sure he wasn't alone. This time, he reached up and caught her hand in his, unable to look up at her just yet, unwilling to see the pity and the fear in her eyes. But he squeezed her fingers in his.
He didn't know how to tell her. He wanted to tell her. There were so many things. She had assumed the quiet stemmed from the grief and the regret and all of the things that he was blaming himself for, but in all honesty, seeing her alive and awake in that wheel chair at Grady had been the biggest relief of his life.
"We should go," Carol said softly after a few minutes. The rest of the group was waiting in a large moving truck on the side of the road. The second Beth had been buried, Rick had taken off with Noah, Tyreese, Michonne and Glenn to try to get the boy home, leaving Carol and Daryl in charge of leading the rest of the group.
"Yeah," Daryl murmured quietly. "Gettin' late."
"We can stay a few more minutes if you need."
"No. She's gone. Can't change that." He stood, wiping the dirt off of his hands, and he faced her, looking her in the eyes for the first time in days. Carol drew in a sharp breath and took a step back, seeing something in his eyes she hadn't expected. He was a man with something on his mind, and it was something he was afraid to tell her. After everything they'd been through, he was keeping something from her.
She reached out, her hand ghosting over his shoulder, comforting him.
"Daryl?" she asked gently. "What is it?"
"Not here," he said quietly, glancing over her shoulder to see several pair of eyes on them as the group lingered by the truck.
"Ok," she said softly, giving him an encouraging smile. She knew not to push. She knew he'd tell her when he was ready, when they both were. And then he pulled her in, crushing her body to his in a tight hug. She gasped softly, but relaxed, letting her arms fall around his neck. She clutched his back, feeling his heart pounding against her chest, and they held each other like that for a few moments.
"Glad you're ok," he said quietly, as she buried her face against his shoulder, fighting off the burning urge to cry. When he released her, she took a couple of dizzying steps backward, and for a moment, he wondered if he'd frightened her. He had never been the kind of man who just pulled people into hugs. He'd never been the kind of guy to shed a tear of emotion. He hadn't been raised that way, and his father had literally beat it into him that emotion was for weak women and little girls. But seeing Carol in the woods that day, he'd been too overcome to care. He'd hug her every day for the rest of their lives if that meant that she was with him and unharmed. The last thing he ever wanted was to lose—or almost lose—her again.