Last One Standing
Chapter Two - The Traveled Road
Deciding to leave Alexandria was easy.
The two-story colonials with their white-picket fences and carefully groomed lawns felt sterile and cold. He was misplaced inside these walls. They all were. They had entered the gates feral, with blood on their hands and weapons on their backs. Trying to comb them back into normalcy was a joke. They'd seen and done too much.
Anyhow, none of this had ever been normal for Daryl. He could feel happy for those that adapted. Shit, Carol had no trouble doing that, in her flowered button down, making cookies for the neighbors. Even Rick and Michonne seemed at ease, taking on leadership roles, and playing house with Judith and Carl.
But Daryl knew the real them. What they had sacrificed and lost along the way. This place, it was a fallacy. There was no normal, anymore. There was just surviving.
The night was crisp. The weight of his bow strapped across his back satisfied him as he strode across Alexandria towards the front gate. Armed with new determination, Daryl felt energy breathe back into his body. It was like scratching an itch he'd been reaching for.
The gate came into view as Daryl rounded the corner. Tonight was Abe's night on guard. Good. The man was a hard-ass, but he wouldn't try to talk Daryl out of what he wanted to do.
The gate door clanged as Daryl approached, bringing his knuckles to the metal.
"Fuck!" Abraham shouted in surprise. A flashlight clicked on, and Daryl saw his head appear over the rim of the guard post. "Who is it?" It seemed like he couldn't catch his breath.
"Daryl." The sound of his own voice surprised him, rough but unsteady. He didn't feel nervous, but his body clearly felt otherwise.
"Daryl?" Abe sounded relieved. "What are you doing here? It ain't your shift."
"I'm...leaving." Daryl held his breath, waiting for a response.
"Going on a run?"
"Not quite."
Abraham stood, his upper half visible now. "What's going on?" he asked. "Something wrong?"
"No," Daryl answered, shifting the bow on his back. "I'm going back to Atlanta."
"Atlanta?"
"There's something I need to do there." He squeezed his eyes shut, and Beth's face appeared. That smile, the wide grin that lit up the world. The bullet, the deadly wound, her limp body in his arms.
Abraham paused, and for a moment Daryl wasn't sure he would answer him. "Will you be back?" he asked.
"I think so." It was the most honest answer he could give. Right now though, he was only worried about getting there.
Above him, Daryl heard the unmistakable clang of the lock unlatch from the other side of the fence.
"You should go." The voice was female, melodic. Sasha. Daryl grinned, despite himself, realizing the source of Abraham's breathlessness.
With his shoulder, he pushed the gate forward, slipping through the small crack he made. He found the only motorcycle, black and dusty among the graveyard of cars.
He brought the bike to life and took off into the night.
Morning came slowly, breaking through dawn's purple clouds. Daryl drove in the middle of the road, worn tires skimming either side of the faded yellow line. Brown leaves laid across the pavement, swept up behind him as he drove past.
He soared by a collapsed sign that announced he was leaving Virginia.
I've never been outta Georgia.
The trip to Alexandria felt like yesterday. His first time leaving the state was for all the wrong reasons. The journey had been a blur for him. They had stopped many times on the way up, Daryl finding a quiet spot somewhere in the woods, using his soggy cigarettes as an excuse to hide his tears.
He hadn't been able to stop the crying. It washed over him in unavoidable waves, suffocating him with reality. It was a crushing sadness that ate through his heart. He had failed her. He didn't have enough time with her.
He felt the sadness again now, sweep through him, but he had gotten better about holding back the tears. The feeling of emptiness, the sadness that poked him every time he thought of her face. He had just gotten used to those things.
He was going to do right by Beth, even though it was already too late.
Daryl's stomach rumbled. It was time for a break.
Daryl rode through the day and into the afternoon. He left the Carolina's behind him, following Interstate 85 into the heart of Atlanta. The highway was still stuck in time, evidence of the last traffic jams, the last panicked attempt at escape frozen forever on the blacktop.
He navigated through them easily, the thin body of the motorcycle able to slip through cracks that cars could not. Forgotten walkers sat trapped in a few of the cars, snapping as he passed. He ignored them, revving his engine to drown out their groans.
The skyline of Atlanta popped up over the horizon. It was a beautiful day, with a clear blue sky. It was a perfect day to lay Beth to rest. He felt satisfied with purpose as he skirted another parked car and took off down the rest of the empty highway.
Atlanta was how he remembered it too, eerie and deserted. The number of walkers had decreased dramatically since he had last been here, and Daryl knew there were probably survivors here doing their best to clean house.
Trying to return to some sense of normalcy.
Daryl barely ventured into the city before the turn. Mostly he hung around his hometown of Dawsonville, and another town over, up in their own little world in the Georgia woods. Atlanta always felt like a different world. Now, though, it felt a little familiar. Like he was returning to the past.
He rode another block and found a place to park the bike. It would be impossible to get Beth's body anywhere on it, so he needed to stash it until it was time to leave.
The sidewalk along the road was caked with blood, littered with body parts and full corpses. Most lay forgotten and still, but the few without head wounds clicked their teeth at him. Daryl kept his hand at his side, on the knife he always carried. Her knife.
Another block and he turned, his heart pounding wildly. The hospital was in front of him, the same ugly building he had left behind. He knew it would be here. But seeing it again, after his time away, made him feel uneasy.
Man up, he told himself. Careful to skirt the perimeter of the hospital, Daryl took his time to avoid any unwanted confrontations. He put down two walkers before he found the building beside the hospital. The one where he'd left her. The one where Beth still laid.
He hadn't thought much about what she might look like now, or what condition her body would be in. It didn't matter. He'd only thought of bringing her somewhere peaceful, somewhere beautiful and bright. Like she had been. Not stuffed up in some tiny room.
The glass entrance door read "Grady Memorial Visitor Lodging," and was fogged with the dust from inside. He entered, gingerly opening the door. His vision tunneled, and he was back in that dark place. He saw himself when he'd been forced to walk away from her the first time, cheeks tear-stained and blotchy, unable to form a sentence.
"We need to go," Rick had told him, placing a firm hand on his shuddering shoulders as he openly wept beside Maggie, Glenn, Carol, and Noah. Daryl had looked up at the door, outside where Abraham and Rosita were barely handling the pile-up of walkers that had found them after the hospital.
Daryl knew it was what they had to do. He knew it had been the best option. Their only option. It still hadn't made it right. He was here to change that.
He found the hall where he and Maggie had picked a room. Not that it mattered, because they all looked the same. He counted the doors, found the third one and gasped.
It was open.
Daryl entered, expecting to find a bloodied mess, or worse, a half-eaten corpse, but he found none of those things. The mattress was empty.
A/N: Thank you guys for the reviews, follows, and favorites on this new story! I'm having SO much fun writing it and hope you'll enjoy this journey with me! Looking forward to writing a Bethyl reunion scene very soon. Stay tuned! ;)