Part Two
He was cracked down the middle when he saw them, void of thought, emotion, need. He was barely able to hear his own concerns about himself as his thoughts rebounded inside his head, and when he recognised faces, he skimmed over them, shell-shocked and unaccepting, disbelief the only thing that kept him moving. He'd barely faced seeing Rick again, Glenn, never held out hope that Beth would still be alive—not with how she'd been taken. Not with how he'd been travelling along the tracks with one brand of evil that would have teased her blond hair until they'd caked it in her blood. And…her. He'd never dared hope, still couldn't believe it, and every time he tried to turn his eyes on her, he felt stinging, shameful tears and it was all he could do not to burst into unbroken grief. So he didn't look, kept his face averted, held onto the disbelief that it was her—even though her voice echoed through him with all the good she'd spoken, her teasing smooth as honey and twice as sweet. She broke him down harder than even his own daddy or Merle could have done, and she didn't even know.
Beth latched onto him the second he'd appeared, yet he was barely aware. Could hardly register her as she attached herself to his side, sang his praises like he was some damn hero—something he knew he never was. She was alive. He was glad. Grateful, though the whirlwind explanation that left her giggling and untouched nagged in his brain. It egged him on to lash out at her and tell her to stop being stupid, that just once she needed to quit this irrepressible conviction she had that everything would be fine, because most of the time, it fucking wasn't. Most of the time their friends and family died, or were ripped right from their hands, or banished without thought or counsel of the ones that would be left behind, hurt, broken, half alive.
He wandered around this new place in a daze for a full day before some kind of energy broke through. He was permanently on guard, alert in case they all needed to run again. He didn't know this place, these new people, but the vibe was something that didn't sit right with him. It didn't read true, and so when he'd finally started to extract his head from his own ass, he'd gone in search of Rick. Searching for Rick, and avoiding her. He couldn't face the possibility that it wasn't real, and then he saw her with Tyreese, being held by him, the man whose woman she'd killed, and Daryl felt the acidic bite and had to swallow down the bile that burned the back of his throat.
Rick noticed. He looked first at Daryl and then at Tyreese and the expression on his face was sad. Daryl ignored it, continued to watch until he saw Carol pull away and he read the total devastation on her face. He was lost within a well of ignorance, until Rick filled him in.
"Ty forgave her."
Daryl let the words tick over in his skull, letting the momentum of this great act settle on his shoulders. Rick chuckled, his hand shaking as he combed fingers through his wavy hair—neater and cleaner than it'd been for a good long while. "Figures. I kicked her out 'cause I thought Ty would kill her, and the idiot forgives her, like what she did was nothing."
Daryl flinched, wishing he had the energy to punch Rick between the eyes like he'd pictured many times in his head, but everything he'd been forced to feel since he'd been left with only Beth for company had left him empty. He was drained of resources—energy, compassion, understanding— and suddenly knew that the only way to get them back was to face her.
"Weren't nothin'." He can deny it without knowing details because he can see the payout on her face, see the wear of her guilt in the tears that sparkled in the sun. He knows that she earned that forgiveness and he'd never condemn her right to receive it. "What the hell happened out there, anyway?"
And Rick told a story so gruesome that Daryl instantly felt ashamed. She didn't deserve a self-absorbed piece of shit like him, but he wanted to go to her anyway. She was the last….he just needed to touch her, to know she was real, and then he could close his eyes on this shitty day and maybe get some sleep. Only, she wasn't going to let that happen.
It was late in the afternoon when he'd worked up the courage to approach her, and by then she was storming toward the exit, her pack on her back and a severe look exchanged with the guy manning the gate. He'd followed her without thought, an invisible tether dragging him along behind even as his heart tried to sort its shit out, tried to push back the feelings he'd been building and then buried under an avalanche of pain and denial. He'd been so stupid to think them all dead—so selfish. Was that all these people were to him? Something to scaffold his own self-worth? Or were they the fences that kept the dead out? Once they fell, it all rushed back in, the man he'd been before, angry and aimless with nothing better to do than to prove that crossing a Dixon lost a man some of his teeth.
He had no excuses for how he'd conducted himself when they ran. The rest had made their way toward safety, searching for a new place to call home, searching for each other. The ones that weren't were at least hopeful some had survived, even if they would never see them again. With Beth at his side, he'd banished all their memories as best he could, attempted to see this world through her eyes. He really had tried, but seeing her across the table, asking him why he was willing to settle, all he could see were the eyes and faces of his friends, people he loved, people he believed he'd never see again, and it crushed him. He'd had one responsibility, though. One left. Out of all he had at the prison—all the love and the support and the encouragement—all he had left was Beth and he owed it to Hershel to make sure she survived. If only she'd snap out of the happy sunshine routine and realise that it was okay to find peace in this world, as long as you recognised at least half of it was leaning toward war.
He'd pursued Carol a fair distance after she tried to fob him off, leaving him stewing over her words, or lack of them. She'd brought up Beth. So had Rick, something about the girl having stars in her eyes, and Daryl smirked, knowing it was a joke. The girl was young, untouched even by this world's standards. For a minute or two he'd allowed her spirit to trick him and it had made him complacent. Made him stupid, and then he'd lost her. They were all damn lucky that the guy that took her thought he was rescuing her, rather than planning something far worse. He had deep feelings for Beth based on survival and fear that they were the last two people left of their group. He owed her a debt, just as she owed him, but it didn't help him understand Carol any better.
"Where are we goin'?"
The previous rebuke in the question was absent this time. They were running out of daylight fast, his body beyond tired. Carol squeaked and spun around and he tried to hide his amusement. It disappeared the second he saw her face and saw the devastation she couldn't hide away. He knew what she'd done, dreaded what was going to happen when they slowed enough for words to fill the silence and he'd have to listen—listen to why she thought she had no choice but to kill two of their people, how she felt she'd failed another little girl and then took action to save Judith. He was going to wish for a sledgehammer to his skull once the real emotion of it came pouring out of her. He already knew her telling would include the parts Rick had left out—would establish once and for all that this coldness his brother seemed so invested in was nowhere to be seen.
He had to tread carefully, he understood that. She had a belief about him that wasn't right, but he didn't know how to change the misconception. He just hoped that when she finally needed something, what she needed would be him. She shook her head, swiped violently at the tears, then took off almost at a run, trying to cut through dirt faster than they had day left to clear it. She was quicker than he'd expected, and he was struggling to keep up. That shocked him, and then he wondered if she was trying to ditch him or if she was just trying to get somewhere swifter than they had daylight left to get there.
He trotted along behind until an energy burst had him catching up, grasping at her hand and holding it in the dimming light. He could feel sweat bead down his back, gather in his hair until a line of it dripped down the side of his face. He was breathing heavy as they jogged to a stop, and he breathed deeply, still holding her hand, curling his fingers between hers and almost pissing himself with the heat that shot up his arm.
"You got somewhere in mind or are you just runnin' away?"
She sagged, as if done arguing with him and he was so relieved he almost collapsed at her feet.
"I wanted to go back to that house…where Tyreese and I left the girls." The flatness of her tone scared him. "I never got to go back to Sophia's grave. Now that I know where everyone is, I just…I need some time to think, Daryl. You should really go back. The others need you. I'll be fine on my own."
He believed her, and he dipped his head in acknowledgement, but he tightened his fingers around hers, relishing the building heat as it seeped into his hand.
"I know you would, but I'm still comin'. Not lettin' you outta my sight again."
She snorted at that and for a second the old Carol, his friend, his more-than-friend, was back. "What? Not ever? What if I need to pee?"
"Then you gotta, but I ain't leavin'."
She tried to pull her hand away, but he didn't let her, held on tighter again and held his breath. If she truly wanted out she knew he'd let go, but he hoped her anger with him wasn't so fierce that she'd throw what he was trying to be away.
"Okay, I'll take you with me." Their eyes clashed and hers were filled with so much more pain than he thought one woman could handle, though he knew she would. She'd take it and hold onto it and it would be a part of her until there was nothing left of her. There wasn't coldness in her—there was nothing heartless or broken, just a woman who accepted this life and did with it what was left to do.
Beth had had it all wrong. He wasn't made for this world. Carol was, and he'd be just fine being the last man standing by her side.
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AN: A huge virtual bunch of flowers to Imorca for ruthlessly whipping this chapter into shape. I can't tell you how very much better her suggestions made this.
To my reviewers….wow! I mean, seriously, wow. I am so flattered that you took the time to review and some of the words you shared with me, both in review or in PM's, meant so very much. I am slack with responses, but please bear with me!
