Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or universe.
"You don't."
He's trying to meet her eyes but she feels nausea clench at her stomach and finds herself outside in the cool air of the corridor before she realizes she's left the room, the muffled groans of the walker family still ringing in her ears.
The darkness of the shelter is suffocating and his footsteps behind her make her tighten her jaw. He's worried about her and not bothering to hide it.
An emotion threatens to rise to the surface but she's always been good at suppressing those before they become something she has to name, so she carefully pushes it away and lets her feet carry her back to the room.
There is no time for her to spend falling apart.
He's quiet and she crawls onto the top bunk, her shirt rides up and the worn fur of the left-behind stuffed animals presses against her side. She wants to cry but instead she rolls over and faces the wall, listening as Daryl shuts the door.
He's not going to pressure her to talk and in a small place under her heart she feels a degree of gratitude for that.
The bed frame shakes slightly under his weight as he settles down on the lower bunk. A tiny earthquake to shake her and remind her that he was still there. Tangible.
Still, she closes her eyes. It doesn't matter how close he gets, she's not going to share her pain. Not with him, not with anyone.
She remembers after Sophia, how quiet he'd been in the RV. He'd taken some of that loss on himself, but the grove...the girls. She bites the inside of her cheek.
Those were her burden alone. Her shame. Her failure.
It doesn't need to be discussed.
It's not his problem.
She rolls onto her back, blinking away the images of blond hair and blood.
Coming here was a mistake and she's aware of that now, but this mission isn't about her and she needs to focus. She needs to ignore whatever old ghosts haunt in this shelter.
She exhales a breath. There is an empty feeling that she's cultivated since Ed and she lets herself sink into it. it's familiar and safe. So much more comfortable than anything else she knows how to feel.
Daryl starts to move slightly and she makes out the shadow of his foot across the wall as he moves it lazily back and forth. It's the slow repetitive motion of someone fidgeting before sleep.
The steady shake of the bunk is oddly comforting and before she can fight it, she's lulled into an exhausted sleep.
It's the acrid stench of smoke that wakes her, burning the inside of her nose. She can't remember dosing off and she's disoriented.
She peers underneath to ask Daryl if he smells it too but his bed is empty, that's all it takes to get her to the window in about 5 seconds flat. She's suppressing panic, Shouldering her weapon, blinking sleep from her eyes.
Fire is never a sign of good things in her world. Where is he?
Movement catches her eye as a door opens and a sickening wash of relief floods her when he walks into view.
He's carrying something, a small bundle.
Tears blur her vision and she manages to choke down the wash of raw pain but a new, unnameable emotion rises up into it's place.
He lowers the bundle into the flames and for the first time in a long time she feels something other than grief and dread. The new feeling is something she hasn't let herself feel in a long time.
She's outside just as he places the second body into the fire.
The urge to hug him or grasp at him is overwhelming but she only manages to sway slightly closer before edging away.
"Thank you."
He nods shortly, shrugging it off like it's nothing. The foul smoke twirls upwards and she can't look at him.
It's everything.
AN: Thanks for reading, I'm in the middle of trying to break through some annoying writers block so I apologize in advance for any terrible writing that I might post now and in the future! :D