Daryl shuffled side to side as he stood, looking at the back of the head of one Maggie Greene. He clenched and unclenched his fists; at least slightly thanking that the rest of the group had went to sleep or were out doing a light patrol. He had words that he wanted to say, but he had no idea how to say them.
Maggie sat, staring at the fire, wrapped in her blanket, trying to figure out what the world meant from here. One after one she had lost her family. She was the last Greene left now. How was she supposed to deal with that? It didn't even matter anyway. No one cared anymore. Names were nothing now.
Daryl sighed and stepped forward, making himself sit on the log next to Maggie. He took in a deep shuddering breath, and for a moment he wondered when he got so… emotional. It was a good thing his family wasn't there. He would never hear the end of it.
But that was the problem, wasn't it? Family. Or the lack thereof.
He cleared his throat, and immediately felt even worse when Maggie let out a dry sob.
"It's… my fault." There, he said it.
Maggie choked, wiping her face and finally looking over at him, "What?"
"After… after the prison. When it all went to shit. Beth and I were together. We survived well enough for awhile. And… we found this house. We stayed there, but o'course the walkers came and we fought and won. We got separated, just for a bit, but it was enough. And they got her. Those crazy sons of bitches got her. I was right there." He chokes a bit, the tears once again coming to his eyes, overwhelming him. He had never cried this much before the apocalypse.
"I…I lost her. I let them take her and now she's dead."
Maggie, good ol' Maggie, just sat there while he talked. Listened to the story, and by the end, fresh tears were streaming down her face. She slapped him, not as hard as he knew she was capable, but hard enough for him to feel it.
She slapped him again. Then she was crying and punching him and pushing him. He just sat there and let it happen. Briefly, he knew that the noise must have woken somebody, at least one, but no one moved.
"My little sister," Maggie sobbed, knowing she could not scream. He arms moved almost mindlessly as she hit Daryl, "Beth. No, no, no, no, not Beth. Why her? Why did it have to be her?"
Her voice cracked, high, and she stopped, slumping forward to shake against Daryl's arm. He rubbed her back.
"It was not your fault," she whispered, "You didn't kill her. The world did. They did. The world's shit now. This is the way it is."
Daryl's throat closed up and he hurriedly stood, pacing frantically, rubbing at his eyes, "Fuck." He was fucking crying again. Oh God, why was it all he could see when he closed his eyes was Beth? He should have been faster. He should have grabbed her. He should have rescued her. He should have never let her be kidnapped.
He should have… He should have…
He collapsed to his knees, "Why aren't you made at me? It's my fault! She's dead because of me."
Maggie, who was still crying, all they could do now was cry, stood, "Don't you dare say that. Do not put that on yourself. Would she want you to continue through what life we have here blaming yourself?"
Daryl sighed, because he knew what the answer was, "Nah, she wouldn't."
"Well, there you go."
Daryl pushed himself up and took in a deep breath. He sat back down on the log.
"She was the light of the group," Maggie said, "She was the music. She made sure we didn't forget about what life should still be about."
Daryl was silent for a moment, "Yea, she was. It'll… be hard without her."
"We can do it," Maggie said with determination, "We won't let the light fade out."
"I don't want to live the minute it does."
Maggie turned to stare at him for a moment, before softly starting to sing the beginning of one of Beth's favorite songs. She sang it often for the group. And even though it was not Beth, the night felt warmer somehow. A bit brighter.
After a moment, Daryl joined in too.