"You got to stay who you are, not who you were."
He could feel himself pulling and pushing away. Throwing up walls, putting that steel back into his glare. He knew he was trying to douse that ember of hope that she had left hidden somewhere in him. He was trying to go back, back to Before… well, After... but Before her. Trying to be that outdoor cat. Trying to keep everyone away, he didn't deserve a family, her family. It had to be easier that way, there had to be some way that was easier.
"You have to put it away."
The guilt, the loneliness, the gut-wrenching emptiness he felt without her.
"You have to."
Close it up. That part of himself that would always be there, only for her.
"Or it kills you."
He wasn't going to let that happen. He wouldn't do that to her.
When Maggie stepped forward from the shadows in that train car, he held his breath. As each person stepped forward it got harder and harder for him to breathe. After, sitting in the corner by himself with his fingers running absently over the seams on his pants, he realized he had hoped Beth would be trapped in there too. He bit down hard on his split lip and focused on the metallic tang of blood in his mouth instead of the tears pricking at his eyes.
It takes longer than he would like to admit for him to be able to look at Maggie without seeing only her absence. He has to start with quick glances at her feet and move on from there. It's easier with the others. He knows Rick said something because no one even says her name around him. Maggie never confronts him, never lashes out at him for being the one to lose her. The most she does is give him a small smile. Once, when he woke up covered in sweat after reliving that night for what seemed like the hundredth time, she sat next to him. She was quiet, she didn't offer a comforting word or touch, but she was there. He wondered what it was that woke her and prayed it wasn't him calling out. She takes down every blond walker they come across, thinking maybe he won't notice. He hates that it makes things a little easier.
They meet up with Carol, Tyreese, and Judith. The air is ripped out of him when he sees that smiling little face. He lets himself feel it then, the longing for her to be there. No one notices when he turns away to press the heels of his palms to his eyes, or if they do they don't mention it. When it's his turn to hold the baby he brings her close and buries his nose in her soft hair. He lets himself take in a deep breath and remembers that she would've done anything to hold Lil' Asskicker again. He remembers how she told him once, that nothing was better than the smell of a baby. He lets himself think how close she was to being right.
Daryl's body moves nearly on autopilot when he hunts. His father's voice repeating the rudimentary steps of following a trail, reloading a weapon. He had grown used to hearing that same drunken growl from so many years ago, he expects it will always be there, some inner part of him. He notices it right before dawn one morning, the sun is just beginning to peak through the trees. It's not an ugly rasp of a voice in his head any more, it's hers. It doesn't berate him for taking a shaky step, or slightly lowering his weapon. He sees the rays of sun blinking through the trees, they illuminate the woods, "Don't you think that's beautiful?." He stills on the trail and closes his eyes, just for a moment, to listen. "Are we close?" He nods to himself. "How do you know?" Pile of droppings, tree rubbed to shreds. "What are we tracking?" It's a buck, big one. "I'm getting good at this." He keeps going. It's not long before he's slinging a nine point buck over his shoulders.
"You got to stay who you are."
And he does. It's her voice that sends him to sit next to Rick while they eat, to show Carl different ways to trap, to come back to camp after a hunt. It's her voice that tells him that there are still good people, that he is with good people... that he is one of the good people.
Nights are the hardest for him. He lays down to sleep with one arm thrown over his eyes and sees her sitting at a piano, feels her running fingers through his still damp hair. It's even harder when he can feel the emptiness beside him. That cavernous void in him that her small body somehow managed to fill. He swears he hears her as he closes his eyes, "It's okay, I'll take first watch."
One day, when he's bent over cleaning squirrels, he realizes he's humming. It's the song she sang that night in the van, when he yelled at her. He looks over his shoulder, feeling someone nearby. Maggie smiles at him, "Beth's mom always sang that to my dad." His heart soars and sinks at the same time.
When it rains he swears he can feel her soft hands taking the tension out of his back, not hesitating to reach out and comfort him. Those are the nights he gets up and takes Judith from whoever has her. He tries to duplicate the way she used to hold her, the slight sway of her stance. He sings. He doesn't care that his voice is too low, too rough, too sad. It's quiet and only for them, to know they aren't alone in the storm.
"Maybe you got to keep on reminding me sometimes."
Maybe there was something left of her.
"Wouldn't kill you to have a little faith."
Maybe there always would be.
"I'm not gonna leave you."
Daryl knows she never will.