Sum: Daryl raising his daughter alone in a world full of Walkers. Caryl One-shot Drabbly thing.
I will never own AMC's The Walking Dead, although I can have my delusional fantasies since they would want none of those.
*note was written at two in the morning after writing a massive paper and running off the dregs of an energy drink, some sentences will not make sense.
Without
He would never get used to the idea of a world without her beside him, it was something that unnerved him now years later as he watched the second most important girl in his life chase butterflies in the yard.
She reminded him everyday of her mother; a petite little pixie at six and a half years old with her mothers eyes and the same spattering of freckles that had once adorned her older sisters nose. The only things that physically had been passed down to the little girl was her fathers ever-changing hair color. One never knew how to describe it for one day it was blonde the next day brunette and the day after that it would be a sweet strawberry blonde.
It wasn't her looks that had him thinking of the girls mother every time he saw her, it was her mannerisms. The little things she did that would shock him. From the way she laughed to the way she frowned when he did something she didn't like.
The little girl rarely exhibited his famous temper, being the most patient thing in the world he had seen since her mother.
Right now she was giggling with ten year old Judy Grimes as they lay in the long grass point out the shapes of the clouds to each other happily.
Before this happened he would have never been able to imagine having something so innocent and fragile in his life, and even after the world ended those thoughts were immediately squashed in favor of survival. At this point in time he relished it for his daughter was a piece of the woman he had loved, still loved even now even if her life had long since been gone.
Smiling she delicately picked herself up from the ground and ran towards him she stopped to wave her arms over her head as she jumped excitedly. Begging him to come.
"Come see what I found daddy!" she called, rousing him from his thoughts.
Obliging he smirked as she continued to call for him to come closer
"what is it?" he asked as he got closer.
She smiled pointing to a familiar bush of Cherokee Roses.
"Mama and big sister 'Phia are still watching over us. See?They sent us roses, like me." she said in her quiet soprano voice.
"Yeah, I guess they are aren't they?" he replied just as quietly and nowhere near the sweetness hers carried. Two and a half fucking years had passed since she had left them on their own. One day she was perfectly fine and the next she could barely move out of bed, on her good days she could sit up and entertain Rose with stories of the world before, of the sister she would never know, and the people that had gone before she was born. Carol had left them as she slept, and he hadn't waited for her corpse to reanimate into something other then the woman he loved.
It'd been his idea to name her Rose, it only made sense to him to name her after something found in nature. After the Roses that reminded him of the story he had once told her mother to raise her spirits. Now, she was the reason he kept fighting, the petite pixie who enjoyed spending everyday outside much to the chagrin of the rest of the group.
'Like father, Like daughter' they said as the little girl ran barefoot through the long grass of their sanctuary, making friends with small animals, especially the Grey tom-cat she had named Pheasant. The cat would spend hours watching over her like he did. Whenever he returned from a hunt with a bird he would saved the colorful (flight) feathers just for her, later she could be found wearing the feathers tucked away in her hair like a native child.
But if Daryl had any say it was that she was her mother's daughter with a little Dixon thrown in. The little girl had her own little bow and quiver she carried with her, and he was proud to say that at six and a half she had a better aim the a majority of the group. Yes, that included Andrea.
"Can we take some of the blossoms back with us?" she asked, blue blue eyes watering.
He nodded "Just two 'alright? We have the leave the rest so more can bloom"
She smiled "Okay!"
Using his knife he separated two of the flowers and handed them over to her. Rose took the white flowers and twisted the stems together before tucking them away in her hair like she did with those damn feathers. He hair was dark blonde today he noted, like her sisters had been.
When they returned to the house she would most likely demand for a glass of water to hold the flowers in. On that note she was also going to take a bath tonight, he couldn't tell if she was really dirty or just darkly tanned from spending so much time in the sun.
"Come on, let's get you washed before dinner."
"I hope Andrea doesn't cook tonight" she said aloud with a grimace.
Judy made a gagging noise "I hope so too, otherwise ech."
Rose was giggling again, cheeks flushed with red as they walked back to the farmhouse they currently called home. He had fought hard to make sure that the dead would never come and take his fragile girl away from him. Silently treasuring the moments they had in which for a moment he could forget the danger of the world they lived in to enjoy her smile.
He would never get used to not having Carol herself by his side, but with his daughter he could live without her until she called him home. But for now he belonged to the little girl who was presently pulling on his arm and pointing towards the sky as a large group butterflies fluttered past on their migration towards Mexico.
The little Rose who wore white flowers in her hair, whose whole world was her daddy and the group they were a part of. Thanks to her he would always have a piece of Carol with him and that was enough for now.
Fin
An: I needed a break during my problem-filled Finals week, from getting stuck in the snow (twice) dead car batteries making me miss my final exam for my Geo class to my Comp. Teacher giving my final paper during the 24 hours I had to be at work.
This is what happens when I need to vent creatively.
No I probably will not be continuing this, I might write another one based off of a DrWho line that has been resonating in my head since I saw Daryl holding little Ass-Kicker (I agree with my mother the name Judith is stupid) just to torture you all. I'm evil, truly I am.
So here's my submission to the Carylers out there, I hope you liked it.
R&R