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His feet were pounding out the rapid rhythm of his heart as they slapped against the ground on a road that seemed to stretch out forever. The miles were growing between himself and that car, that goddamned car that came out of no where and zipped away just as quickly, destroying the allusion of safety and happiness he had made, that they had made together. It took everything he had grown to care about and any sense of hope he found and shattered it, broke it down to the smallest little pieces and then burned it to ashes just for good measure. So he ran. He ran for hours and hours after that car, after her, until he couldn't anymore. He ran until his limbs couldn't hold him up and he collapsed to the ground, closing his eyes in defeat.
He opened them.
That god awful sickening sterile scent invaded his senses, white tiles and walls filled his vision and he certainly wasn't in the backwoods of Georgia anymore. No, this place was worse, this is the place he really lost her.
Maybe I could have done something.
His own words echoed in his head, because he could have. He could have stopped her from stepping forward out from behind their line. He could have stopped her and then he never would have lost her at all. He could have.
And then she was there. He saw it happening again, as he often did in these dreams. He saw it happening but he couldn't get to her. He couldn't stop it as she stepped away out of his reach. He couldn't move at all except to open his mouth and call out to her. He shouted her name, telling her to stop, pleading with her not to do it. He called out to her when she slipped out the scissors and Dawn reached for her gun and-
"Daryl!"
His eyes snapped open, and he was in his bedroom again, their bedroom really. She was sitting up beside him, one hand resting on his shoulder, the other on his face, swiping away the tears that rolled down his cheeks in his sleep. Her eyes shown bright in their dark room, her face glowing in the light of the moon that spilled in through the window.
He blinked up at her, taking her in quietly, committing every bit of her to memory. Every inch of her alive, God she was so alive, looking down at him until she shifted and laid down to rest her cheek against his chest. He snaked an arm around her, holding her to him. This was routine. This was normal. She would shake him awake and let him hold her until he was satisfied she was real and alive and there with him and the trembling from the aftershocks of each nightmare ceased. Sometimes they'd talk, but most times they didn't. He drew in a wavering breath and she knew what he'd say before he said it.
"I thought you were dead." Daryl whispered into the darkness of the room, his voice thick and raspy. He told her this before. He told her when she had first made it to the Safe Zone, and he told her again a few times on nights like these, seeking peace of mind after that very mind had turned on him and made him relive some of the worst moments of his life.
"I know, Daryl, but I'm not. I'm here." Beth soothed, running her hand over his chest and down his arm to link her fingers into his. She squeezed and he squeezed back, pushing his nose in her hair and breathing her in. "It's okay, Daryl. I'm here."
"I couldn't stop it." He told her, his voice still shaking even after the rest of him had grown still. "You were gone."
"I'm not gonna leave you." Beth said firmly, repeating words she'd said before so long ago it seemed like it could have been another life. Where those words fell through before, they both knew they were true now. No matter what happened, they would make it back to each other. With that Daryl let sleep take him again, knowing he had Beth wrapped up in his arms ready to fight off any demons as they came. They'd do it together.