Things you said after you kissed me.
Daryl drops his eyes to his feet as Carl speaks to her quietly, offering up his teenage soul freely and eloquently. Anger swells in Daryl's chest. That boy has been through enough; too goddamn much. He turns on his heel just as Carl stops talking and make his way through the trailer, bursting through the door and out into the night. He fingers ball into fists at his sides as he spits, his breath coming harder and faster. He raises his head to the dark sky, the moonlight splashing over his face as he closes his eyes. When will this end? When will it be their turn?
"Daryl?"
Jesus' voice is soft as he approaches. Daryl drops his head, finally opening his dark eyes as he flexes his fingers out in front of him. They're still stained with her blood. His shirt, his jeans, his shoes, all covered with her life force. Still. His mind flashes back to that afternoon, his own blood running cold as she gasped loudly when the knife penetrated her stomach. Everything after that was a blur. Rick screaming, bullets flying, Carl running to her and throwing his body over hers to protect her from any further damage. Daryl sprayed bullets in every direction he could as Negan and Simon ran to hide behind their vehicles. Rosita tackled Arat and slammed her into the ground, unleashing her furious fists upon the pretty girl's face. Payback for the slice on her cheek from weeks before. In all the mayhem, Daryl made eye contact with Rick for just the quickest of seconds. Those familiar blues full of fear and anguish, "Daryl."
And he knew. Not another word was spoken between them. Daryl just knew. He ran to his brothers' son and love, resting his hand quickly on Carl's shoulder to soothe him. Daryl lifted her carefully and Carl covered his back, firing shots at Simon and Negan as Daryl rushed back to their black Charger. He blinks slowly and the foul memories are gone. He's back in the present, underneath the moon and the stars.
"Daryl, are you alright?"
The archer grunts in response, just wanting to be left the fuck alone. He continues to watch his blood-stained fingers, pushing back the anger that is rapidly turning into fear. Fear for his family's wellbeing. Fear for Rick losing yet another love. Fear for Carl and Judith losing yet another mother. Fear of losing her. That laugh. Her little digs and playful barbs at him. That smile.
At first, she was just a weird chick with a sword that tried to kill his brother. Then, she became his partner. The two of them going out in that same black Charger on runs at the prison. At first, neither one of them spoke a word. They'd park and go their separate ways, meeting up a few hours later to start the silent trek home. But then, she cracked a joke. And then another, and another, and before he knew it, she was his friend. She would listen intently to him as they walked slowly. Together. Sometimes, just sometimes, he was in the mood to talk back then. And she always listened. He began to try to convince her to stay instead of going out to find Phillip. Because by then, she was his sister. He didn't want her to get hurt. He didn't want to have to hear Rick tell Carl why she hadn't come back.
"Daryl,"
"What?" He snaps angrily, turning his head just enough to see Jesus in his peripheral vision.
Jesus takes a breath, not wanting to make things more tense, "I just wanted to check on you, that's all."
"I'm fine." Daryl answers gruffly, turning his head back toward the gate. Jesus treads toward him, stepping around Daryl's frigid form to stand in front of him, "I said I'm fine."
Jesus nods slowly, dropping his head a little before glancing around the quiet community. He knows now isn't the time. It's just not the right time but he lifts his hand anyway and runs it down the side of Daryl's face, his dark, stringy hair surprisingly soft against the pads of his fingers. Daryl's mouth drops open slightly, breathing. Just breathing. His eyes follow Jesus as he moves closer but he himself can't move at all. Jesus plants a kiss, a small one, but a confident one, just on the corner of Daryl's mouth. Then another, firmly, squarely on his lips. He backs away and Daryl's usually squinty eyes are wide as he stares back at the slightly shorter man. They bounce back and forth between Jesus', not sure of what to say or do. Or feel.
"You don't have to hurt alone." Jesus whispers, "They love you Daryl. I," He stops short, knowing that now is just not the time, "You don't have to do it alone. We're here. Go back in there. She needs you."
Without another word, Jesus walks off, leaving a stunned Daryl alone underneath the moon and the stars. He knows deep down that Jesus is right. He turns slowly, casting his eyes back toward the medical trailer. He takes a step, and then another, until he's surrounded by his sleeping family once more. He sinks to the floor just outside her door, resting his head on the wall behind him as Jesus' words wash over him.
You don't have to hurt alone. They love you. She needs you.