Here we go. The sequel or companion piece to To Live (Beth's drabbles). You can read them in any order, honestly. Please enjoy!
Sight
They say that when you're angry, you 'see red'.
But the red that Daryl is seeing now just has him feeling sick with shock, grief, and finally: emptiness.
It's the emptiness and that shiny spattering of red across the wall and Beth's pale skin and blonde hair that triggers the gun in his hand. The red surrounding the cop's head doesn't even faze him.
The graceful arc of Beth's falling body draws his eyes over her frame. Her dirty yellow cardigan and blue jeans on her unmoving body swim in his vision.
He doesn't even see the hallways and stairwells as he carries Beth into the daylight.
He doesn't see Maggie collapsing in grief, even though he's also hyper aware of it.
He doesn't see the shake of Rick's head or the sorrow bowing everyone else's.
He just sees the little face pressed against his chest and the red running from the bullet hole.
All he wants to see is blue.
…
She's scrawny as anything. Her thinness is the only thing he can see because it translates to weakness in his mind. Beth is not like Maggie or Michonne. There's no muscle definition that belies weakness. There is only softness and, if he were being honest, a loveliness that makes him feel guilty. Like he is somehow responsible for this shitty, bloody world being forced on the Sun.
He had never truly looked at Beth until they were ostensibly the only ones left from the prison. He had never really seen her cry except maybe at her farm. All he knew was the yellow pony tail that sometimes whisked by.
But now tear tracks slide through the grime on her face, and he blinks and looks away because he shouldn't be privy to her feelings. He finds that he misses something about her. Blue eyes and flushed cheeks and a sweet as pie smile. He must have seen all this before, and decides he wants to see it again.
…
Once upon a time, Daryl would have noted every tree he passed by. He would have noticed the slightest deviation in his group's stride. He'd have noticed the squirrel weaving away from the approaching footsteps.
Once upon a time, Daryl would have had a reason to see all these things and more.
But now he just sees blurred colors, and shadows growing and receding, and the passing of the days as the group moves on. Away from his only source of hope.
…
His eyes are blurred with tears he's trying to fight off. His voice is stuck and he turns away, unable to look at Beth after hurting her.
And then there is fire, leaping, roaring, cathartic fire, that burns the tears away.
And then there is understanding. There is a smile on Beth's face, and her big eyes flash at him.
There is an ethereal glow. Golden and warm on the beautiful face before him and all Daryl can think is maybe he's got a home again.
Finally there are taillights and a white cross that will haunt his dreams for days to come.
…
The cigarette branding his hand doesn't even make him blink. The impending storm means little to him. Nothing ahead matters.
When she died, Daryl saw the future die with her.
