AN: Mild spoilers for Season 3.05 So turn back now if you haven't seen it yet! This was is all angst and stuff and I blame my editor Wolfbane.
Usual disclaimers mean that I don't own anything and that I possibly worship in the house of Kirkman. ;)
Enjoy.
-Shazzy
-Memento-
He had found it along the edge of the prison one day when he had been on patrol. It had seemed so out of place there, in the corner of the yard, poking up between the chain link fence and fighting for purchase amidst the cracked and worn pavement of what probably used to be a basketball court.
There was only one, and it looked pretty pathetic if he was going to be honest. He'd almost missed it in passing, and he had to wonder if it had even been there the last four or five times he had passed this spot on patrol. It seemed like it had miraculously sprung up, just for him, as if attuned to his very thoughts. Still, he grabbed it and tucked it into the pocket in his vest
It hadn't been easy, adjusting to the prison. There had been a lot of hard work in making it safe for the group. Patrols along the perimeter had really been the last thing on anyone's mind. They all assumed that they were relatively safe. That the cell block they'd cleared out would be enough.
There wasn't a lot of time for them to relax. They'd nearly lost Hershel the first night they'd been there and everyone was preoccupied with securing the prison, keeping the prisoners they'd discovered away from their group, and saving Hershel. She'd been too preoccupied with her duties to steal away for long and he'd had Rick's back.
They had barely spoken two words to one another.
She'd asked him for the keys to the vehicles they were supposed to move and that was about it. He wanted to pull her aside, to have a moment, to have a word, a millisecond of privacy. He could feel the gift in his pocket, just waiting for the right moment when he could give it to her with his little half-smile and a shrug. It had bloomed for her, for him. Maybe the prison was what they'd been looking for after all. It was the little things that gave them hope, and the memento would find a meaning in and of itself when he had the chance to give it to her.
But it felt like he would never get the chance. They were too busy for little unimportant things like mementos and tokens.
They had gotten the prison to what they thought was a level of "under control" when the shit hit the fan for the second time in as many days.
He had been doing his job when the walkers swarmed.
Panic wasn't even the right word to describe it. Things had gotten out of control.
He hadn't been there to help fend off the walkers and he'd lost sight of her.
He hadn't been there to dig the graves.
He hadn't been there for whatever funeral they'd had.
He hadn't fucking been there.
He felt the wilting bloom in his pocket, he'd wanted to present it to her, a token, a symbol.
But he hadn't been there.
But he was here now, and he placed the Cherokee Rose in the dirt of her grave and hoped.
