Title: Not Your Fault
Author: GageWhitney
Rating: T
Pairing: Daryl/Andrea
Disclaimer: Very much not mine.
Summary: She'd seen Daryl wander off alone while everyone else swarmed around Carol.
Note: Group hug for all the Daryl/Andrea shippers. Y'all are awesome. (Also: FEBRUARY? Ugh!)
Some time after it all goes down, Andrea stalks off toward the tents. She'd seen Daryl wander off alone while everyone else swarmed around Carol, and supposed she wouldn't be missed if she went to see to him instead.
She pauses outside his tent. "Daryl?" He doesn't answer, but she hears sniffling, so she pushes the flap aside. "Daryl?"
He swipes at his eyes when she enters. "Did I say come in?" It's obvious he's been crying, his eyes red and puffy no matter how much he tries to hide the evidence.
She doesn't answer, but sinks down onto the floor next to him. "Are you okay?" she asks softly.
"Fine," he snarls, defenses up. "Fucking peachy."
"Daryl…" She reaches for him, but he pushes her hands away.
"Don't touch me," he mumbles. His eyes are wet again, and he turns his face to the floor so she won't see.
He sniffles again, and her heart breaks for him, not used to seeing this strong man so broken himself. Ignoring his words, she scoots closer until her knees touch his. "It's not your fault."
"Shut up," he warns.
"You tried your best to find her. You had hope long after –"
"Shut. Up!" The dam breaks, then, and he whimpers as the first tear rolls down his face. "I should've found her. I could have."
"Honey, she probably didn't…" She pauses to collect herself, tears pricking at her eyes. "I don't think she was lost for long."
"How'd she get in the barn? That house?" He shakes his head sadly, scrubbing a hand across his face. "I found her doll. If I'd done more…"
"No."
"If that stupid fucking horse didn't throw me, maybe I could've found her."
"Hey." She cups his chin, forcing him to look her in the eyes. "You did more for that little girl than anyone could have asked for. If it was at all possible to save her, you would have been the one to do it." She wipes his tears away with her thumbs and holds his face in her hands. "This is not your fault."
He tries to pull away from her, but she doesn't let him, instead sitting up on her knees to wrap her arms around his neck. He resists for a moment before breaking down and sobbing into her neck. His arms go around her waist, squeezing her to him.
"Shh," she soothes. She runs her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. "It's okay."
She remembers the story he once told her in the woods, about a lost little boy who no one cared to look for, and knows he's projecting onto Sophia's situation. The only other emotion she's seen him express this strongly was anger, but it's increasingly clear that the same lost little boy is just under the surface of his tough veneer.
He grips her tighter as he cries, clinging to the comfort she's offering him. "It's okay," she murmurs again. She presses her lips to his temple and rubs his back while he tries to compose himself.
"I'm sorry," he says sheepishly, pulling away from her to wipe the tears from his cheeks.
"You have nothing to be sorry for." She pushes lightly at his shoulder. "Come on. Why don't you lie down? You must be exhausted."
He nods and leans over onto his sleeping bag, still working to get his breathing back to normal. She follows suit, curling up next to him, her forehead pressed against his. She takes his hands in hers and kisses them lightly.
"You should be with Carol," he says, his voice rough. "She just lost her daughter. Again."
"Everyone else is with Carol." She lifts a hand to comb her fingers through his hair again. "You need someone to be with you right now."
He sniffles and gives a slight nod of his head. "Thanks."
"Any time." Scooting impossibly closer, she kisses the corner of his mouth. "Get some rest."
He closes his eyes, leaning into her touch, and she's glad that, at least for the moment, she's able to offer him some form of comfort.