Hesitate
"You were my fire, so I burned... til' there was nothing left of me." - Hesitate, Stone Sour
Daryl picked up the dead squirrel, pulling the arrow from the back of it's neck. He shoved it's head into his back pocket and wiped off the arrow. It returned to the crossbow, ready to be fired at another creature, be it walker, deer or squirrel. Most likely the latter. He paused, staring sullenly out into the forest before closing his eyes. Because she wasn't there. When he turned around to head back to camp, she wouldn't be standing behind him. And he wouldn't see her at camp. She wouldn't be lying down besides him in his tent later that night.
He turned.
Nope. No one. He didn't see that flash of golden locks out of the corner of his eye, or feel that steady blue-green gaze penetrating his back. He always saw that, felt that. Sometimes, he'd imagine she was in the woods ahead of him. Think he might see her blue shirt through the trees, the one she had wore the night Amy died. Race off towards it, scaring everything within a quarter miles radius, just to see the empty spot that she'd been standing. Or had she? His mind kept telling him that, no, she wasn't there. She was just one of the lost now. One of the people that he'd only see again after he died. He wouldn't mind heaven, really, if it had her in it. Without her, how could it be heaven?
But she wasn't there. Wasn't in the woods, at camp, or in his tent. And, as he headed back to said camp, he did NOT hear her humming the same tune she always had whenever they were returning from a hunt or when she was just plain happy. There's was only the silence of the forest. And her humming. He shook his head. No. No, no. She was gone and he had to face it. She only existed in his memories now. She was not following behind him, humming a tune, the lady smith hooked to her belt. Even if he glanced back, she wouldn't be there. He glanced back. No one. See? That's what he thought.
He showed up at camp, tossed to squirrels on the ground near the fire and retired to their tent. No. No, no, no. His tent. She wasn't there anymore. Sure, some of her stuff was. Her favorite shirt was stuffed into the case with his pillow. A couple of her books were in the corner. He picked one up, thumbing through it. He set it back down and stared up at the ceiling. On closing his eyes, she lay down besides him, wrapping one arm over his waist, curling against his side. He knew it wasn't real. He knew that she wasn't still humming besides him. She wasn't doing anything. She was fifty miles away, decomposing under the soil. But somehow, she was right besides him, warming him, loving him.
He opened his eyes and she disappeared again, no longer with him. He didn't look around to see where she went. He simply looked down at the burns on his right arm. It started at the wrist, climbing up in ugly splotches to his shoulder. If he took off his shirt, they'd appear on his chest too. Angry marks covering half of his body. Just as well. The others seemed afraid of him now, this beast with no lover or soul. No one knew of his hallucinations, or imaginings that summoned Andrea back to him. They only knew they hadn't heard him speak to anyone but himself for over a month. He mumbled under his breath, talking to her. Sometimes, he could even hear her reply.
He stood from his sleeping bag, returning outside. He glanced around. No one made eye contact, not even Carol.
He turned and faced the woods. There she was. He could see her about twenty feet in, standing with her back to him. She glanced over her shoulder, noticing the look he gave her. She smiled and motioned him to follow before running into the woods. He followed, trying to catch up. She laughed as he chased after her, truely tormenting him. He pushed past shrub and tree, trying to catch the goddess that was flitting through the trees ahead. With one last look back at him, where he saw her face entirely, a smile on her lips, she vanished and he was chasing nothing.
He slowed to a stop, suddenly at the edge of a clearing in which sat a little fishing shack besides a large pond. He pushed his back against a tree, sliding down into a sitting position. He rubbed his forehead with his palm and looked out at the shack. 'She would've loved it here,' he thought. His eyes drifted closed and he felt her lean against his side.
Daryl pushed through the blaze, yelling her name. He finally found her. She was motionless, fallen back on the couch. There were three bloody bullet holes in the right side of her chest. Her picked her up and she barely moved. "It's gonna be okay, Andrea. C'mon, stay awake!" She looked up at him.
"You're arm..." He looked down to see his sleeve catching flame. It didn't seem to be affecting her, so he just kept fighting his way through the fire, trying to get her outside. "Daryl..."
"You're gonna be fine," he spoke, only just loud enough over the crackle of the flame. "... Love you," she mumbled. And she was gone.
Daryl woke but didn't open his eyes. He knew every moment of her death, from the time they were raided to the moment he managed to escape the burning house with her body, his own in flames. She had been the second casualty of the day, the first being Beth. Another group had ambushed them, setting fire to the house and taking all they could. The figment that rested beside him moved, sitting up. He heard her gun click and then fire.
He opened his eyes to see a walker stumbling towards him. His crossbow was immediatly up, firing a home-made arrow into the creature's skull. He stood and retrieved it.
He could hear her footsteps behind him, following after as she usually did. He went inside the little shack, and found a stove, a couch with a blanket, and a coffee table. He got a sudden idea, something that might help him. He took the blanket and, after turning the burners on high, placed it over the stove. It caught quickly. He set his crossbow on the coffee table and took a seat on the couch. He closed his eyes so he could feel her presence. And he waited.
"You were my fire, so I burned... Now there's nothing left of me..."
