Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's "The Walking Dead." Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: Based a possible interpretation of how the Caryl scene in 7x10 will go.
Disclaimer:this is not a happy fic, anger, anger issues, argument, angst, drama, unresolved romantic tension, once more to the breach dear friends.
Anger isn't a strong enough word (try disappointment instead)
A fire crackled aggressively in the hearth as he kicked himself off the couch. Needing to get away from her as the fire ate up a mess of broken lumber. It made the flames dry and piece-meal - already burning too fast as the dead, dehydrated wood popped and snapped. Covering the grinding sound his knuckles made when he clenched them into tight fists on either side of him.
Anger was a poison.
He knew it was a familiar metaphor. But he couldn't think of another way to put it. He'd never been good with words. He'd read books by people that were. People who could corral and eventually break each and every syllable into something anyone could understand - even some backwoods drop-out like him. But besides all that, he was speaking from experience. He'd spent a good portion of his life angry. Still was if he was being honest with himself.
Angry at his father.
Angry at his mother.
Angry at Merle.
Angry at Merle's shitty friends.
Their dealer.
The stupid bitch the next town over that figured he was easy pickings that one time.
Angry at the world.
The cops.
But mostly at himself.
Still, nothing in the world had prepared him for being angry at her.
It was a rash that spread from the inside out. Something harsh, acidic and self- damaging. Like swallowing bleach or gargling acid rain. He figured it would always be like that. There were some things you just weren't born to shake and she was one of them. Not even when he was half convinced he wanted to.
He'd been angry at her before. It wasn't like it was a new concept or nothin'. But this was worse. Different. It wasn't like the simmering hurt he'd felt in the RV when she'd looked up at him without really seeing and told him point blank it was okay her little girl was gone. No. It wasn't like that. It wasn't like when he'd been selfish enough to make her pain about him. Refusing to come to terms with the fact that part of him would always be that leggy little kid who'd gotten his ass lost in the woods. Cryin' himself to sleep in the muck of last years leaves because he knew no one cared enough to come lookin'.
That moment in the RV had been disappointment more than anything.
This was a sinister sort of anger.
Like Negan had gotten into his bloodstream somehow.
Like he'd been tainted.
Wronged.
Like his patience had been put on a brand new leash because of him.
Short and sharp and made to hurt.
Because of what'd happened.
Because what Negan had done.
Because of what Negan had done to him - seen in him.
Because-
"I can't," she whispered, wavering wounded in the doorway as he swung his pack on, whip-crack harsh through the musty air. "You don't know what happened. What I did-"
"You can," he grated, wondering if it was possible to chip his molars on one another as he chewed viciously on the inside of his cheek. Hating her so much - for a single, blinding second - that he almost choked on the bitter swill of hurt welling up like blood from a mortal wound. "You just won't. And that's fine. It's yer right. But be straight about it. No more excuses. No lies. Don't say it any way than it is."
"Daryl, it's not- you don't know what-"
His knuckles were white. Scared and bloodless as they made a home at his sides again. Not as a threat, but a promise to himself as he internalized, then quickly dismissed the idea that all this really came down to was him being selfish. He was tired of being alone. If she didn't want to be here, with him, then he had no business taking up her space. He knew when he wasn't wanted. He wasn't fucking blind. She wanted him gone. Him and Rick and Maggie, all of them. All of their ghosts. If she couldn't face family he had to get back and do what he could to make sure-
"I know but I don't know," he snapped as he wrenched the door open. Ignoring the scream of the hinges as her eyes went all watery on him. Like the universe still wanted to see him crumple, even now. "Because you won't tell me. And that ain't going to change until you decide you're ready. Ready to start trying. Ready to start- whatever. But I can't wait for you."
The not this time was silent. Stalled with an eerie still in the graveyard air as the next breath he sucked in sharded in his lungs like broken glass. There'd been a time he would have. Hell, he would have waited for fucking ever. If he turned around now, he still might. But things changed. Or people did. Fuck if he knew. Fuck if he'd ever known.
"I can't do nothin' until you feel it – till you want it - but there ain't no time. Things need doing. There's a war- it's already here. And there ain't no other option than to fight. And I can't sit here and-"
He wet his lips, struggling with it.
Do nothing.
Let him get away with it.
Let the others fight Negan alone.
Let-
"There's something I gotta do," he said quietly, shaking back the strings of his hair as h looked up and tried to find her in the cage of her own eyes. Admitting to himself, maybe for the first time since this had all started, that she'd been like this for a long time. She'd just been able to hide it before. "And it ain't just for me. It's for you. For them."
"Daryl, I don't want that. I don't want you to-"
He didn't look at her as he walked away.
Instead he threw the words over his shoulder like he didn't care.
Lying to himself and her in the worst possible way.
"I'm here, when you ready," he rasped, feeling the jar in his knees as he stumbled more than stepped down from the porch and into the split-wild grass. "You know that. You always have. But for now you're here and I need to be out there."
For Glenn.
For Abraham.
For Maggie and the little string bean growing inside her.
For their future.
For a future.
For everyone and everything that bastard had taken.
He figured if he had one last good thing left in him, it would be putting a bullet between the Negan's eyes.
That would be enough.
Maybe.
For such an easy thing to do- walking away from her was also the hardest. Feeling the silence grow damning and full as the harshness of action and word sunk into the creases and crevasses of him and tried to take him apart from the inside out.
Understanding, perhaps for the first time in his life that anger wasn't just a poison that came for you. It came for everyone around you as well. Splintering through the hearts of those who you loved best until forgiveness was just a word someone thought they'd meant once, only you knew better.
But somehow he figured neither of them would get that far.
Because if anger had an antidote he had a feeling they were too far gone to take it.
He'd rather they save it for someone who'd come into this world with a fair chance.
Maybe that was the difference between the start and the end of things.
Maybe.
A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – This fic is now complete.