Author's Notes: Hello everyone and welcome to my very first fanfiction ever. There's really no ther pairing that tugs on my heartstrings the way that Beth and Daryl (Bethyl) does and I can't even try to overstate just how devastated I was when I watched Coda last year. I bore that heartache all this time, and now matter how hard I tried to get over that tragedy, I couldn't really get past it. So I finally decided to create my own reality and give Bethyl the story I feel that they deserve.
Just to let you know though, that my style of writing involves time~jumps, flashbacks and dream sequences in both Beth and Daryl's point of view. I feel like its a very important element of the story I would like to tell. So just a reminder, this is canon divergent, with strong language, major character deaths, graphic violence and its future fair amount of lemons ;)
I hope you enjoy this journey with me and feel free to leave me feedback. Welcome to Cherry Wine!
UPDATED on 5/23/2017 (2 new flashbacks + major dialogue changes)
Echo
Hello, hello
Anybody out there? Cause I don't hear a sound
Alone, alone
I don't really know where the world is but I miss it now
I'm out on the edge and I'm screaming my name
Like a fool at the top of my lungs
Sometimes when I close my eyes I pretend I'm alright
But it's never enough
Cause my echo, echo
Is the only voice coming back
Shadow, shadow
Is the only friend that I have
Listen, listen
I would take a whisper if that's all you had to give
But it isn't, is it?
You could come and save me and try to chase the crazy right out of my head
I'm out on the edge and I'm screaming my name
Like a fool at the top of my lungs
Sometimes when I close my eyes I pretend I'm alright
But it's never enough
Cause my echo, echo
Is the only voice coming back
Shadow, shadow
Is the only friend that I have
I don't wanna be an island
I just wanna feel alive and
Get to see your face again
I don't wanna be an island
I just wanna feel alive and
Get to see your face again
But 'til then
Just my echo, my shadow
You're my only friend and...
I'm out on the edge and I'm screaming my name
Like a fool at the top of my lungs
Sometimes when I close my eyes I pretend I'm alright
But it's never enough
Cause my echo, echo
Oh my shadow, shadow
Hello, hello
Anybody out there?
-Jason Walker
" I'm not going to leave you."
He hears her final promise to him ringing inside his mind and he swallows another bitter swig of beer. He could hear her more clearly than anything, could feel the ghost of her touches upon his skin more than he could feel the gusts of evening breeze. As the lonesome archer mentally ticks of yet another day that had passed since the light in his life had been violently snuffed away, he carves another notch at the bark of the same tree to temper the quiet rage in his heart. And then he hears her broken vow to him once more, and Daryl can't help but loath himself for calling the only angel he has ever known a damn liar. Because that is she is. And he was the sorry fool that fucking believed her.
It had been a year since it happened. A year since she'd been gone.
Three hundred sixty-five days and then some that the guilt-stricken hunter suffered in silence as her memories haunted him again and again, showing him the decisions he could have done differently and reminding him of how gravely each of his mistakes had cost. Killing everyone that had stood in-between them at Grady didn't seem like such a bad idea anymore, now that he knew just how much grief he would have to endure. It may not necessarily make him a good man, but he would have been a man that had her. And Daryl would gladly pay the price of having more blood in his hands in exchange for the life of the one that made his worth living. Even if he couldn't bear to say her name out loud anymore.
The lids of his eyes squeeze tight as he forces down more alcohol down his tightened throat, hoping to drown the sound of laughter breaking through the silence of the night. Not that it mattered. It was solely her voice that filled his ears anyway. And not even the strongest of liquors could ever drown her out when she whispers to him again and again; I'm not going to leave you. So instead, the archer finds himself whispering back to the dark of the night, to nowhere, to no one, as he leans against the trunk of the tree he carved for her and stares up at the sky.
"What changed your mind?"
It's him that roughly murmurs it this time; but it is still her echo that he hears; a sliver of the nightmare that stalks him in his dreams. Still no answer. He doubts there will ever be one.
"Daryl."
His thoughts were cut short as their leader walked towards him with purpose hidden beneath his eyes. Reluctantly, the hunter tilted his head to his side ever so slightly to acknowledge Rick's uninvited presence, but his eyes were still staring straight ahead, focusing on nothing. Better not to give the man the notion that he felt like talking than have to pretend for another goddamn second that everything was alright in this little town of people who liked to play make believe.
Daryl said nothing as Rick took his place next to him, watching his brother from the periphery of his vision awkwardly pause as he approached what the archer deemed to be sacred ground. A few seconds of tense silence passed between the comrades; the sheriff doing his best not to stare at the countless notches Daryl had carved each passing day while his brother grumbled with mild irritation at his unwelcomed presence.
"She deserves a grave." The archer finds himself explaining with his thumb in between his teeth.
"I know what it is." Rick solemnly replied.
"Why are y'here then?" Daryl shrugged back impatiently, scoffing at the man. "Ain't you s'pposed to be at whatshisname's party?" As if right on cue, a roar of cheering and laughter erupted from afar. It was the rest Alexandrians mingling with each other without a mind of thought for the suffering outside their walls; escaping reality… even for just an evening after a successful run. He was envious of everyone inside that house, envious of their world that keeps on turning while his was on a permanent loop of grief and regret. Because he knew deep down that in the time that has passed, everyone has slowly healed and gotten over what had happened in Atlanta. He hasn't gotten over it though. He doesn't think he ever will.
"You were invited too, you know. You shouldn't be staying here."
More silence passed between them. Absentmindedly, Daryl's palms move to graze against the blades of grass growing by the roots of the greenest tree he could find and he mutters back to his brother wearily— with much less anger than he thought there would be. "I'm exactly where I should be."
"I was there Daryl. I get it." Rick spoke so low so that only the archer could hear him. "I know you lost something back there, back in Atlanta. You haven't been the same since B-,"
CRASH.
The sound of glass breaking pierced the air as the archer smashed his bottle to the ground. Daryl stood up, eyes ablaze with anger and a wrath within him unlike any face of rage he has ever worn.
"DON'T. SAY. HER. NAME." The livid hunter seethed gravely, cobalt eyes dangerously close to looking like murder at the mention of fallen angel's name coming out of the leader's tongue. Taking a step forward as he growled to him menacingly close, he points a sharp finger to the man's chest. "YOU. DON'T GET. TO SAY HER NAME."
Shocked by Daryl's sudden outburst Rick stared at Daryl, unmoving. Turquoise eyes bore through hateful azure, as a sudden dawn of understanding washed over his mind. "Are you saying this because you don't want me saying her name? Or is it because you don't want to hear it?"
The hunter's features froze, his spine straightening rigid as he clenched his jaws shut at a loss for words. It wasn't that he didn't want to hear her name anymore. It was the fact that it killed him inside whenever he did. But there was no way he could ever confess that. "Just don't say it." He warns him, trying his best to hide the trembling in his bones.
"You can't keep doing this to yourself, brother." he said. "It has to stop. We're here for you. You can talk to us about her— or at least talk to me." But the archer just scoffed at Rick's sentiment as he turned away from his gaze. "No. I can't," he defeatedly mumbles back.
"Beth wouldn't want you to be like this,"
Like a fraying string finally pulled too taught, Daryl snapped, and landed the entire force of his anger on Rick's jaw with a single blow. The sheriff stumbled backward with a grimace, caught off-guard by the punch and winded back a fist of his own, only to think twice about it when he caught the immediate flicker of pain glazing over the grieving man's eyes.
"I told you not to say her name." Daryl roared vehemently, shaking with the fury he was desperately trying to contain once again. Choking on his agony and the white-hot fire raging down his throat, he manages to breathe out the saddest and faintest of sobs.
"Everything… Everything feels more real when you say her name."
And to that, his brother found no words possible to give the archer solace nor respite.
"Why do you like calling me 'Angel'?"
She murmurs to him breathlessly, her head leaning against his shoulders as they watched the sun set the skies on fire. From the hollow roots of their favorite tree, they could see the horizon, and she nestles contentedly against his warmth as they take in the view. From her side, his thumb circled lazily around the exposed skin of her waist while he pulled her closer, lips barely grazing the crown of her head as he coyly whispers sweetly to her ears.
"Cause that's what you are."
The sounds of her breathless laughter filled the air, her porcelain skin blushing crimson from his unexpected flattery. She points to his chest, her finger poking at the leather he wore and giggled in reply. "Says the guy who wears actual angel wings on his back. Maybe I should call you angel."
He rolled his eyes at the statement, finding the title simple unfit for anyone but a heavenly creature such as her. "Doesn't work that way, sweetheart. All nicknames are final," the archer chuckled, his warm breath caressing the skin beneath her ears and he feels her goosebumps forming beneath the pads of his thumb. "But you can call me whatever else y'want." He offered, knowing he will immediately regret the gesture but doing it anyway. He's been so used to being called by other names by his brother, and there was nothing that could possibly top Darlyna.
He braced himself, half-expecting the farmgirl to jump at the offer. Only to find her wistfully staring off into the sunset as she gave the thought actual consideration. For a long while, he assumed she had forgotten the notion, her silence so profound and lasting that the blonde could have only been lost in thought. Until her lips parted, her voice melding into the sing-song of autumn breeze.
"I think I'll stick to calling you Daryl."
She murmured, certain of her decision like it carried such a heavy weight. Cerulean met azure as the branches of the tree swayed overhead, bathing them with softened shadows and a haze of golden incandescence.
"There's nothing I like hearing more than the sound of your name."
Daryl awoke with a start. A deep ache was traveling through his back, probably from the awkward way he passed out in. Slowly, he stretched his sleep frozen muscles as he tried to remember where he was and figure out how long he's been asleep from his alcohol induced stupor. Secretly pleased with himself for drinking enough alcohol to put himself into deep sleep, he smirked at the bottles of beer littered across his room. For one blessed night, the horror and anguish that constantly tormented him in his dreams was for once smothered down with something else; something lighter and more welcome although elusive and tucked in deeply within his subconscious.
"Thanks for the dreams, angel," The archer utters to no one, but the ghost of her in his mind.
Trying to shake the remnants of sleep away from his body, he grabbed handfuls of water from the basin and splashed his face. A glimpse of his reflection caught his eye and suddenly, he was carefully considering how different he looks like now than since before they got settled in Alexandria. He was still the same, but there were subtle changes to himself, such as the darkening under his eyes from months of having too little sleep. His hair is longer now though, hanging just a few inches lower than before, his eyes almost fully covered by the fringes on his forehead. But he was more muscular than before; the constant supply of food since finding Alexandria keeping him from starvation, allowing his body to strengthen and renew as he performed his combative duties within the community. But most noticeably ,the hunter's face has changed, a year's worth of suffering and fighting clearly etched within the furrows of his brows and eyes. Lost in his own thought, Daryl remembered his conversation with Rick last night.
"…When uhhh… when I lost… Lori… I kinda checked out there for a while."
"Might do you a bit of good to do the same… take some time to yourself to sort it out."
It seemed like a good idea, yet the mere thought of leaving his post, wherever it may be, and abandoning his duties seemed to selfish for his taste. "Good day to hunt as any..." he thought to himself, finding a compromise that suits him best. He could use it as an excuse to be out in the woods where he felt more comfortable; it was a place where he found solace, where his isolation doesn't feel like its constantly strangling his chest, and instead comfortable solitude taking its place. With one last splash of water across his face, Daryl straightened himself and grabbed his pack and crossbow and headed out the door, setting out to begin his mission for the next couple of days.
The crackle of leaves barely registered in the still movements of the forest. She was focusing on the ground, trying to concentrate on the patterns that swirled around the terrain, careful to avoid any treads that resembled that of a human's, living or dead.
' Just keep going. ' A voice from within her repeats and she uses it as a silent chant as she hacks through heavy shrubbery and tries to keep walking as far as she could. Mildly irritated that it had been days since she had last seen any trace of something to hunt, her concentration falters and her hunger takes over, leaving her senses a bit deprived. If it weren't for the sudden snapping of twigs from behind, the woman would never have turned around, only to realize that the very thing she had been looking for had in turn found her, and within a split second, the blonde found herself face to face with a full-grown deer.
Careful not to spook what could be the only dinner she'll likely have within the next week or so, the woman sweeps aside the messy strands of hair before her eyes. With each of her fingers delicately wrapping around the hilt of her blade, she aims at her prey with the patience of a skilled hunter and primes to strike— up until she felt the cold pang of metal pressed squarely against her temple, and her muscles immediately froze.
From a few meters away, she helplessly watched the deer flee the scene, and choked back the sob from yet another opportunity lost. The stranger behind her however, she had no concern for.
"Hey there darlin', "A man behind her sneered. With a chuckle, he came closer to her back until his face was practically touching her ears. His putrid breath traveled along the sides of her neck, making her hackles rise from the threat. He snickered, "Now what's a sweet little thing like you doin' out here, all alone? Do you need help handlin' that knife?"
Every hair in her body stood up from the man's presence as he grabbed her dagger out of her hold, and the woman dangerously growled in resistance. But then the sharp edge of metal against her temple came closer, the sound of the safety unlatching more of a promise than it was a threat.
"Now I wouldn't do that if I were you little girl. You and I both know this is only gonna end one way, and that ain't with you walkin' away from me." He reached for her pistol, tucked behind her backside as well, lingering lecherously along her curves before and throwing her weapons on the ground.
"Hey Greg! Paul! Found us a lil chickie we can share!" The man bellowed to his companions, laughing maliciously as they came closer to their prize. If she wasn't agitated before, she was definitely agitated now. If the man were alone, she probably stood a chance of getting herself out of this situation, but three against one is a long shot.
A burly man popped out from the bushes, his arms easily twice the size of her head that ripped out the shrubs by its roots as he spoke out in a deep grumble that suggested he wasn't one to mess around. "She got a name?" the harsh sentiment spoken as a matter of factly, as if she wasn't their first victim. The gun's barrel pressed harder against her skull as the stranger demanded for an answer.
"Didn't ya hear him? He wants t'know your name."
Tears glisten within her eyes as she forces herself to speak, her voice so gravelly for dryness and disuse as she chokes to them a reply. "I… I don't…"
"Speak louder." The other stranger demanded, eyeing her up in down with lust filled hunger. "We're not monsters. We'd at least like to know what your name is 'fore we fuck the life out of you," Bile rose to her throat, sickening her in a wave of dizziness as the three lewd circled around her, trapping her in each direction so that she couldn't flee, and with a gun at her head, all that the blonde could do was blurt out the truth.
"I don't have one."
It was the burly man the broke the silence that followed, eyeing her with a skeptic mind. "You tryin' to be smart with us, bitch? Tell us. Your. Name." There was an undercurrent of danger vibrating from within the man which made her nervous, and a part of wanted nothing more than to give them the answer they were looking for. Yet the other part suspiciously felt like she would be pounced on by these men the moment she replies with a name. Any name. But if she told them that she couldn't remember, then they would probably just shoot her straight away from impatience.
"Angel." She croaks roughly, her tongue moving on its own accord. "I think… Angel… That's my name."
Nevermind the fact that the voices in her head was protesting. It was the first name that had felt right from her lips after months of trying.
Two of the men just chuckled even more, seemingly contented by the answer. "Damn, Angel. You sure look like one." The taller of the two men hissed with a half-cocked smirk. Making a motion to advance and capture their prize, he sneered to her. "Let's see if y'taste like one too."
She cringed to herself that this might really be it for her, that the hundreds of miles she's walked and the treacherous journey she took would abruptly end with her in the middle a random forest, with three wicked men who were as much strangers to her as she was to herself. But then something more animalistic woke up within her, and the basic instinct to survive violently took control of her body and implored her to fight.
It wasn't the pain that hit her first, but the sound of bones breaking as she swiped the arm with the gun to her head and whipped her neck backwards, forcefully smashing her skull against the man's face. The impact of her skull against his startled him, making him fire in the air. Ignoring the tears threatening to flow from her eyes due to the ringing pain, she turned backwards and tackled the man with all her might, pushing him hard to the ground and knocking the wind out his lungs. She forced all of her measly weight down her knees, effectively pinning him to the ground as both her hands took control of the pistol in his hands and pointed it upwards to the skin of his jaw. A fierce growl escaped her lips as she pulled the trigger to his skull, but the pistol only produced a small click from the sound of an empty barrel. As soon as realization hit her that the gun hasn't reloaded, her assailant flipped her over and slapped her so viciously with the back of his hand. More blinding pain in her head followed as the taste of copper filled her mouth.
"YOU FUCKIN' BITCH! " he yelled as he hurled a solid punch against her diaphragm, making her recoil in terror and nausea. The other guy, just sniggered quietly, knowing fully well that she would be more fun than their usual prey. The biggest of the men, on the other hand, seemed unamused, holding his rifle down wards but alertly, as if he was ready to take control of the situation if needed.
"THAT. FUCKIN. HURT!" he exclaimed, punctuating each word with a kick to her body that was enough to make anyone pass out. Darkness threatened to loom over her eyes but she was determined to fight back as long as she can, and so she willed herself to stay conscious. The smell and taste of blood and bile mixed together in the back of throat threatened to escape as she bit down her cries of pain, her frail body taking impact of feet meeting bones again and again.
"It's gonna be so much worse for you now, you fuckin' cunt!" Angry screams thundered through the forest floors, accompanied by more of his kicks. Just when the last of her consciousness was about to leave her, another yell reverberated from her side "Hold up, Al. Haven't we seen this one bef-"
The other man's thoughts were cut off, replaced by his shrieks filling the air as a walker took hold of his shoulders and gnawed on it. The momentary distraction gave her the opening she needed as another surge of adrenaline entered her bloodstream. Her focus sharpened; her pupils constricted against the darkened canvas of her cerulean irises. With a giant heave, she lunged for her gun to the side, and fired it towards Al's head and the sound of his body crumpling hit the ground with a loud thud.
It only took her a second to gather her thoughts again, and then she was running as fast as her slight legs would take her, which was not fast as all. Her breaths were not fully forming, as she struggled to run away from where more than a dozen walkers were now pouring out the woods. Ignoring the lancing pain shooting up and down her spine and the ringing in her brain, she dodged the bullets flying from their direction until there was no more, but the thump of her boots dragging across the ground, the gurgling sound of blood while walkers feasted on human flesh, the snarls of the living dead chasing the scent of her blood, and her breathless pant from the agony of her each and every step.
He had been on the hunt for almost the whole day now, with nothing but two measly squirrels to show for it. His better mood of the morning slowly dissipated as the hot blaze of the sun dissolved the remnants of last night's reveries. Daryl was beginning to get really frustrated as the tracks of the deer he's been following for a good hour now suddenly disappeared. "Sonuvabitch," He thought to himself. "Damn thing vanished like a ghost." He refocused himself to the ground around him, trying to figure out which direction the deer headed. He crouched down low and carefully looked around for any sign of his prize.
The deep rumble of a car passing by disrupted his concentration. Daryl listened carefully, hiding within the shadows of the forest while looking from which direction the sound was coming from: North. Seconds passed and the vehicle's noises were nothing but a faint whirring in the distant horizon and his breathing relaxes, feeling the threat come to pass. Nowadays, Daryl was less than inclined to follow any signs of humans in this post-apocalyptic world. You don't put your dick inside a beehive, his older brother used to say. Daryl decided to head the opposite direction, as he wanted nothing to do with any sort of confrontation with other survivors.
"There's still good people, Daryl."
As soon as he took his first step south, her voice rang in his head clear as day. His mind was dead set on leaving, but for some reason, every muscle in his body objected him, refusing to cooperate. "Dammit!" he exclaimed. "Up to now y' still bossin' me around?" he growls in the air. He almost hated himself for following the tracks of the car. Almost. But he couldn't deny the parts of himself that still valued human life, the parts that trusted in the greater good. No, he couldn't hate the parts of himself that bore the traces of her, of her honeyed words and enlightenment forever etched to the marrow of his bones, glowing and kindling within him as he cherished them in his feeble heart for the two of them. When a gust of wind caressed him with the scent of honey and lilacs, playing tricks to his mind, Daryl almost laughed at himself. With a final stride, he turned around towards the setting sun, towards the horizon bearing absolute promise of either faith or trouble.
"We should get back. Before they figure out we've been missin'."
He mumbled tenderly, swiping a stray strand of silk from her cheeks behind her ears. It was far too easy to be contented in their own corner of the earth— far too easy to feel safe when there was a seraph sighing sleepily within his arms as they watched the stars begin to fade.
"Just five more minutes please." She pleaded to him affectionately in reply, squeezing deeper into his embrace. "I just want five more minutes with you."
Unable to deny her of any request, the archer found no way to move. It wasn't like he didn't want to stay here with her either… he just knew it wouldn't be smart. Yet what did that matter when the reward for their foolishness was another glimpse of her smile, all while the dawn arrived with the most vivid hues of gold and purple painted in the sky. He wondered when they would be able to get the chance to witness such magic again. Too long, most probably… and before he knew it, he was the one who was secretly begging for more time with her.
" It's pretty, isn't it?" the seraph mumbled, staring at the vista before her glowing with the sun's first rays. "Everything almost seems normal. Like this was the way it's always been from the start."
He nodded his head, his gaze sweeping around, trying to see everything that she saw. It truly was breathtaking, the grand emptiness of it all, the quiet of the leaves colliding with the breeze muting out the moans of the undead lingering from afar. So sure. It was pretty. But it was her that was fucking beautiful, grinning in his arms. He cleared his throat as he caught himself staring, and pried his eyes back to the painted skies. "Everythin's pretty to you, girl. Bet you'd call my brother pretty if he had a damn flower tucked in his ear." He coughed, rewarding him with the dulcet music of her laughter.
"Don't pretend like you don't see it too." The angel giggled, slapping him in the arm. "It looks like some painting… of what the world was like before it ended. That's at least something… at least, something we should try to remember." There was a melancholy in her words as her voice faded softly… her thoughts floating in some other time and space.
A bitter taste in his lips lingered, unsure and certain all the same that the angel was feeling wistful; missing what her life once was. But that life had no room for him, and before he had known what he was saying, he had already spoken it out loud.
" 'S that why you like it? Y'want everythin' to go back to the way it was?"
Of course she did, he inwardly cursed. What kind of fucked-up person wouldn't want that? Him, as it turns out— but he had always known he was fucked up anyway. But to ask the most selfless woman he has ever met if she preferred the live in the time when people didn't die by the thousands…
"No… I don't think so…" she whispered shamefully to his surprise. "I mean… In a perfect world, none of this would have ever happened. But it did… so there has to be some reason, right?"
"But, I don't think I could ever want to go back to a life without you."
Daryl was had been following the trails of the car a good amount of time now when things turned southward. He had been a few miles by the side of the forest as he kept track of the road to his left when he heard the snarling of a group of walkers. They were headed towards him, but they haven't spotted him yet. Quickly, the archer crouched behind a tree, hoping that the walkers would not switch direction and just bypass him. Slowly he readjusted his footing, circling around the hollow as the walkers passed him while making sure not to make a whisper of a sound. Everything would've been without incident, but then—
BANG!
The sound of gunshot echoed across the fields and the walkers turned around out of rabid curiosity.
"Shit!" he cursed out loud, finding no point in trying to be quiet any longer. A sharp twang of a bolt through the walker's skull pierced the air. He then swung his crossbow as hard as he coul, crackling the skull of the walker to his left. He tried to load his crossbow again, but there wasn't enough time since another walker was gaining on him again. Instead, Darryl grabbed his arrow by its middle and used it to stab the third walker straight in the eye. He then flung himself to the last walker in his sight, grabbing its decomposing skull from the side and smashing it again and again against the trunk of a tree, until the last of the dead's head has crumbled to nothing but decay in his feet.
Panting from the exertion, the hunter leaned across the tree, trying to catch his breath. Catching him unaware, a fifth walker leaned towards his body, causing him to lose his footing. Daryl fell to ground with an aching thud, one arm extended and injured from trying to stop his fall, the other shielding himself from the jaws of the undead. He would've screamed in agony if he could as the pain of his head and the pain in his injured arm collided and pierced through his body. Instead, the grit his teeth and grabbed her ivory knife from its sheath and swung his bleeding arm with all his might, finding its mark deep within the walker's jaw to his brain and suddenly the rabid body was no more.
He swung the unanimated corpse to his side as he wheezed and struggled to catch his breath. After the adrenaline has dissipated, Daryl became fully aware of the piercing pain behind the back of his skull. He touched his fingers to the source of the pain and he winced as he withdrew them again, finding blood in his fingertips.
"You're gonna be the last man standing…" she once told him, a memory flashing vivid in his mind. For some reason, he found it hard to believe that right now. So he looked up the skies to tell her that she was wrong… and then, he succumbed to the darkness that welcomed him, following the sound of her voice.
Unfocused blue eyes opened and all it saw was the canopy of the forest, billowing along the winds as the setting sun embraced everything in a haze of red and orange rays. The archer smiled to himself, thinking about this time of the day always being his favorite. There was something about the golden quality of the light that he cherished, the sinews of some long lost memory he has since buried.
"Daryl…. Daryl….. Daryl."
There it was, the dulcet tones of her voice once again ringing in his ears. What he hadn't expected was her face looking down on him, once again basked in the effervescent golden glow she always wore so well.
"Hey there sleepyhead." She smiled softly at him. "Time to wake up."
"Angel?" Daryl murmured, half question, half prayer. "What are you doin' here?" he coughed, as his eyes refocused to her and her vision. She was wearing her yellow polo, untouched by the stains he knew very well, and her hair was swept back in a neat ponytail. Her braid jutted to the side of her head just as she had always done since the beginning of the end, a small token of remembrance from memories of her beloved mother. Her unscarred face broke into a full smile as she looked down on him, and Daryl's heart couldn't help but falter. "Am I dead?" he murmured, still lying down on the cold ground.
The blonde laughed softly to him, " You will be if you don't get up. "
Daryl reached out for her hand in an effort to rise but she stepped backwards and so he fell to the ground once more.
"I'm sorry. You have to get up by yourself."
Pain and annoyance grimaced his face but he just shrugged off her remark, using his uninjured hand to propel his body forward and upwards. Finally standing upright, a wave of dizziness washed over him making him wince in pain. The slow but steady gush of blood in his arm shifted his attention from her phantom to his wound.
"There's no time to waste. You're gonna need stitches or you might bleed out."
"I know what I need, girl. I just don't know where to fuckin' find it. " The hunter shrugged, more sharply than he intended. He cringed inwardly about his tone, and cleared his throat to try once more.
" 'M sorry. " he murmured.
She only replied with another smile, her eyes understanding the sentiment between his words. "I know," she paused, staring through his eyes. "Whatever it is you need, I'll help you find it."
"We're a team… remember?"
Daryl ripped his eyes away from her pearlescent face and concentrated on his bleeding arm. Using his treasured knife, he grabbed a small section of his sleeves and packed his wound tight enough to stop the bleeding, but not too tight that he would be immobile. He then gathered his fallen crossbow and the rest of his pack so could once again follow the road.
"Are y' gonna leave again one I stop bleedin' out?" Daryl murmured low to the ground, his voice laced with an undercurrent of an emotion he couldn't fully voice out loud. "I never left, Mr. Dixon," the angelic creature chuckled next to him, eyes gleaming with whisper of a secret. "I promised you I wouldn't leave."
"But you did." he muttered with soft despair, yet there was nothing to reply to him but the empty gusts of the wind.
It was a close call. Too close. Every bone in her body ached with her every stride. She was half limping, half running; doing her best to keep ahead of the small herd slowly advancing her. To her right, the setting sun was blazing, almost blinding her with urgency. The night will come soon, and if she doesn't find shelter avoiding the walkers at her trail would prove to be a lot harder.
"You're almost there'. Don't give up on me now." The voice in her mind said, chiding her, spurring her once more to quicken her steps. It was a voice she was familiar with, the voice that has taken her mind captive ever since she awoke from her deep slumber many months ago. His voice has kept her companion ever since, though the owner remained a mystery to her. Whenever she has faced imminent danger, or found herself in a conundrum, she would listen to his soothing voice, guiding her to right. Though her memories were in shambles, the forgetful girl had no doubts about the significance of the owner of this voice. No person who knew her that well and lead her to safety could ever mean her any harm. Unsure of everything else, that much she was sure of.
A wave of thunder rumbled across the night sky. She had been running for a good hour now, yet some of the undead are still in pursuit of her. Exhaustion was creeping up her injured body, making her legs as heavy as lead as she trudged across the ground. Shaking and out of breath, the aching blonde willed her body to obey her whims and ignore the protesting pain from her movement. Just a few hundred feet a head of her, she saw a structure, standing out in the middle of a barren field, completely abandoned and skating along the edge of the forest. Gathering the last stores of her willpower and energy, she pushed her feet one in front of the other, with nothing but fear fueling her to reach sanctuary.
As she closed in on the wooden structure, her left foot gave away, causing her to lose balance and fall into the soil. Yet just a split second before one of the walkers plunged its teeth to the flesh of her neck, the sharp reverberation an arrow hitting its mark cut through the wind.
Daryl's body was weakening from the loss of blood, and his feet were dragging through the ground from exertion when he finally lost all hope.
"Ain't gonna make it. There's nothin' nowhere." the archer thought out loud.
All of a sudden, the blonde phantom was once again smirking at him while skipping alongside his path.
"You don't know that." She smiled at him, her words echoing through his mind from another time and place. "Keep goin'. 'S just a lil bit more."
"What's just a little bit more, girl?" he asked the aurulent ghost, half annoyed by her cryptic encouragement, half jubilant that she once again appeared in his vision. He would've jumped from her sudden appearance, if he wasn't so dizzy from his headache, and if he wasn't half hoping that she would, in fact, appear again.
Just then, Daryl saw flash of something red within the skyline, of something other than the lush greens and browns that covered the woods. As he approached closer, he soon discovered that it was a barn of some sort, used for storing hay back in the day.
"Why did you take me here?" the weary archer asked, swinging to his side expecting another of her cryptic replies. And yet, the ghost of her has disappeared once again, but not before her serene laughter echoed in the air.
"So you can finally find what you've been looking for."
He was almost done with clearing the building when he saw it. A flash of something pale and golden at the corner of his eye, moving closer and closer. As Daryl hid from within the barn's shadows, he saw the struggling footsteps of a woman fleeing from a group of walkers. Familiarity tugged at the strings of archer's subconscious, which made him tread closer to the upcoming danger. Just when he saw the blonde woman fall to the ground, he managed to align his crossbow's shot and struck the walker true and square.
Her heart was pounding from her realization that she was alive. As quickly as she fell, she pushed herself upwards and yanked the bolt protruding from the walker's head free, and thrusted it upwards the jaw of another. Daryl ran closer and grabbed her by the arm.
"This way!" He screamed at the her, focusing on protecting this strangely familiar woman from the last two of the walkers. With all his might, he heaved his body forward and tackled the nearest walker to the blonde, before he stabbed it at the top of its head. As he was bent across the body of the third walker, he twisted his aim, and pulled the trigger of his crossbow, its bolt solely for very last walker that was about to overpower the girl in grey.
The blinding pain from archer's head washed over him in a wave of nausea as he struggled to get up on his feet again. Halfheartedly, he pointed his crossbow to the to the woman's face, only to be washed violently away by a cold current of shock in his body as recognition dawned on his brain.
The feral woman before him was pointing her pistol to his chest, her face covered by a ferocious snarl. At first thought, Daryl thought that she was just the phantom of the woman he always sought for in his mind, his brain playing a vicious prank at him from dehydration and blood loss. But upon closer inspection, he saw the minor differences in her face from that which has haunted him day and night. This woman's face was paler and sharper in its edges. Alongside the top of her forehead, where skin meets hair, was a round gathering of pink flesh that looked like a healing scar. Scattered across her high cheekbones were other scars, new and familiar all the same, from the time that she was held prisoner in the hospital. And her lips, while still as perfect as he remembered them to be, were red, chapped and bleeding. Her eyes lacked the usual mirth that he had seared in his memory, instead, her brows were furrowed with caution and bravery.
'I'm not going to leave you.' she once swore to him in the dark.
A lump formed in his throat as comprehension dawned upon him, banging across his chest like a welcomed symphony. He exhaled the only word capable of escaping his astonished lips.
"Angel? Is that you?" he whispered, his body shaking and fearing that this might be the cruelest of all jokes. She froze before him, her eyes glowing with surprise. His eyes welled up with long forbidden tears as his hands reached closer to her. Pleading the heavens that he wasn't once again hallucinating, Daryl breathlessly whispered once more, but this time, with more certainty in his voice; the hallowed name that he couldn't bear to say; the bitterest word once again cloying in his tongue as he fell to his knees.
"BETH."
-updated: 5-23-2017- I hoped you liked the changes I have made. Chapter 2 will be updated within the next 24 hours.