a/n: Inspired loosely by Michonne's question/statement to Heath: "Have you ever been covered in so much blood that you didn't know if it was yours or walkers' or your friends'? Huh? Then you don't know."
Daryl watched Rosita pull Tara aside the moment she and Heath entered the gates. As her grin subsided into a slightly more somber expression, Daryl turned away. He closed his eyes against her cries. His hands gripped the hilt of Beth's hunting knife as images of Denise's lifeless body, once again, made their way into his mind, as mirrors of Beth's small, pale body weaved in and out of his vision.
Pushing away from the steps, Daryl shouldered his crossbow - ignored the sickening lurch in his stomach, ignored how it felt so wrong in his hands - and pocketed the knife. As the idle chatter resumed behind him, as the faint sobbing dwindled in the distance, he made his way towards the only other exit the community had to offer, climbing over the fence and dropping down with a dull thud as leather smacked dirt.
No matter how many times he washed his hands, he could never quite rid himself of the feeling of the blood that seemed permanently soaked inside his bones. Amy, Jim, Randall, Sophia, Dale, Merle, Hershel, Beth, and now Denise - the list seemed to grow ever longer as he survived. The people he bled for and who bled for him crawled into his dreams at night, blaming him for their murders in his nightmares for not owning up, for not doing what needed to be done, for not being there, for not stopping the conflict before it started.
As the moaning of the dead reached his ears, Daryl stooped low and lost himself in the physical labor, abandoned - if only temporarily - the nagging regret, the persistent "if only"'s in the back of his mind. As he took down walkers and their blood stained his clothes, he felt it only fitting that he look as tainted on the outside as he felt on the inside.
With each passing walker, visions danced between his eyes of Jim, his face white as a sheet and slick with sweat; of Andrea, her skin flushed with the hellish fever; of Sophia, so small as she stumbled out of the barn with dead eyes that bore into his; of Beth, her final deed being dealt with a smile on her stitched up face as her brain blew into chunks; of Denise, furiously choosing to live the second his own arrow pierced her brain.
He didn't notice when he started lagging behind the walkers, but he did notice when a leather-and-wool clad figure showed up to dispatch the remaining dozen.
"What the fuck?" Jesus exclaimed in lieu of a greeting. "Are you trying to get yourself bit?"
Daryl shrugged, using his silence to gather his composure. He began collecting his arrows from the rotten skulls of the dead around him, wiping them carelessly on his jeans. Jesus stared as if waiting for an honest answer.
With a huff, Jesus nodded his head towards the community. "Rick asked me to find you. He says there's something he has to tell you."
He nodded and turned his back to the man, already slouching towards the entrance when Jesus grabbed his shoulder. Without thinking, Daryl grabbed his arm and threw him against the steel paneling, his hand pressing a still-bloodied arrow to the base of Jesus's throat. "Y'wanna try that again?" he snarled.
Jesus raised his hands in mock-surrender, though his eyes retained a steely nerve. "Keep going on this way and you're going to do worse than get yourself killed," he warned venomously. "You feel guilty, but you refuse to talk to anybody. I never would've believed you to be such a dumbass, Daryl."
Daryl narrowed his eyes and pressed the arrowhead harder into the soft flesh underneath Jesus's bandana. "Look who's talk-" he began, but Jesus cut him off with a mirthless laugh.
"You don't know me well enough to tell me about how I cope with grief, so reverting to that defence mechanism is useless on me," he stated. "I don't know anything about you except you will do whatever it takes to keep your people safe. I understand that. I get that. But you can't claim to know a damn thing about me, if that's what you're assuming."
Scowling heavily, Daryl let him go and opted to ignore the words he called out after him as he walked away, sloughing grey matter off of his weapons. His hands absently reached for Beth's hunting knife again. He took special care in cleaning the blade, much more than he did with his arrows, even going so far as to tearing a strip off of the hem of his shirt and soaking it in water to wipe it down. With a churning in his stomach, he noticed the flecks of dried blood on its hilt where Beth never could get it entirely clean.
Heaving, he put the knife away, put his arrows back in his quiver, and threw the rag into the dirt. If Jesus still walked behind him, it would've been a sight to see: Daryl Dixon breaking down in the middle of the forest over a dull hunting knife.
He expected a laugh or a scoff if the other man continued to walk with him - not a gentle hand on his arm and understanding permeating throughout deep blue eyes. When Jesus lifted his hand again and Daryl flinched, he watched that understanding fade into confusion and sadness before pulling away and taking several deep breaths.
Only a few more minutes and he'd be back at the entrance to talk to Rick. He regained his composure as he turned the corner and flagged Rosita to let him in.
Seeing Tobin's worried expression mirrored on Rick's face, Daryl felt his stomach drop. Jesus caught up with them just in time to see Daryl throwing a sheet of paper onto the ground and make a beeline for his motorcycle, kicking it started as Rick, Tobin, and even Glenn called after him.
"He's going to get himself killed!" Jesus overheard Glenn exclaim, eyes wide.
Jesus watched Daryl roar out of the community before he stopped to read the note that flitted towards the ground.
a/n 2: i'm writing and updating this fic as i see opportunities for these two to interact that would make sense if it actually happened in the show. does that make sense? i want it to be as canon-compliant as possible with what information we're given.
i wrote this before 6x15 aired so some detailed are kinda messed up, like the fact that daryl isn't even aware of carol having gone AWOL and the order of events are kinda jumbled. obviously, a lot of details may get negated, but that's why i'm waiting to really update this until we see more of them interact as i want this as accurate as possible. when the finale airs, i'll almost certainly get more material to work with for other pieces if you liked this one :)