prompt was: "What if Dixonne and few others go on a run and shit happens and Michonne gets left behind; a big group of walkers comes and splits them up. And Daryl's the only one who makes it back, and has to break the news to teamfamily and winds up feeling really depressed/guilty and becomes a recluse. 7 months past, Glenn finds Michonne unconscious and takes her back to ASZ. She was dehydrated/ malnourished and needed to be nursed back to health, and Rick had to try and get Daryl to see her but he can't."
lots of dixonne h/c here
You're out here in the woods, blinking through the cold sunlight. The climes are tougher and the foliage not entirely familiar, and it's good, it's a distraction. You don't have to think about a hand forcibly ripped from yours, a body forced beneath the shell of a car, watching her disappear in your mirror–
No. Don't think about that.
Red birds chirrup overhead like bells, the sky tiered amongst the green of the tree's reaching arms. You're so caught up in trying not to think that you don't hear the snap of twigs until you hear a hoarse "you shouldn't be out here by yourself."
You spin around to find Michonne leaning against a fir trunk, a gun at her hip. The mere fact that she's using bullets instead of her katana already tells you that she's too weakened to be doing anything about this. And so you do what you do best: turning your guilt and shame into anger.
"The fuck were you thinkin," you bark, and she doesn't even flinch. You don't know whether to be glad or miserable. "You coulda fuckin collapsed."
"Rick let me out. He knows what I can take. I know what I can take, Daryl," Michonne says, her voice low and collected, the creeping kind of fury. You want her scream, curse your name, because you deserve it. god, but you deserve it.
But then she adds, "But I can't take you not seeing me. Two weeks I've been back here and you don't even come to see me?"
You shake your head, your heart aching like a cold cloth has been wrapped around it. "Don't need me to hold your hand."
"Damn right I don't need you. But I wanted you there. I wanted you to sit by me and say everything even when you're saying nothing and to not leave Rick alone in all this trying to fix everything. I wanted you there and you weren't there."
The crack in Michonne's voice is worse than a physical blow, gouged bullet wounds where her eyes should be, tar-black and devastated.
"You don't–" You croak, pitiful, and you have to start again. "You don't deserve me, after what I done. You should hate me." There's a tremble in your lungs, blocking your throat. "christ, you should hate me."
Michonne sighs, and motions for you to come closer. "I don't hate you," she murmurs once you've stepped in front of her, gaze downcast. "I hate that you've driven Rick and Carl and me and everyone out of mind with worry, but I don't hate you. You made a choice, Daryl. It was either lead the herd straight to our family or leave me. You made the right choice."
There's a strange whimpering sound, and you only realize after a moment that it was you who uttered it. "I shoulda stayed with you," you cry out. "I left you for dead when I shoulda–"
"But you didn't," she insists, her hand alighting on your cheek and god, it's been so long, you lean into it before you can stop yourself. "You helped Rick look for me all these months. You never gave up. Because you love me." Her mouth quavers. "Is that still true?"
You answer her by dropping your crossbow and winding your arms around her, ghosting kisses on her lips again and again, whispering i'm sorry i'm so sorry, and all she says is i love you too, okay.
Rick is waiting at the gates with Michonne's temporary crutches, and he kisses you, hugs you both to him with a relieved sigh. "You guys feeling better?" he asks Michonne, and she grins.
"Better. So much better that I can probably take hot shower on my own now. It'll be hard for me to scrub my back, but that's just logistics."
You snort, don't bother with the flirtation. "We'll join ya," you promise her, loving how she and Rick laugh.
Home at last.