Chapter Three

He doesn't know what they want from him.

He's alive, ain't he? Still surviving, still doing his bit for the group. He still kills walkers, still keeps them safe, still hunts and fills their stomachs. He might be broken, but he's not falling apart, not going to opt out at the first chance he gets.

You'll be the last man standing, she'd told him, and if there's anything he would pray for anymore it would be for it to never come true. But he keeps going, he keeps on going - for her, for everyone she loved.

That should be enough. It has to be enough, because he doesn't have anything else to give right now.

Instead there's Rick, constantly checking on him, asking him questions about the journey that don't really need answering, just to keep him occupied. Daryl gives him the answers he wants then lets the conversation die.

There's Maggie, wanting to be his best friend or somethin', to hear about her sister's last weeks with him before she was taken. Daryl doesn't want to speak about it, can't put all of those moments into words, feels like he might lose them if he lets them leave the confines of his heart where they're safe. He avoids her when he can, doesn't like seeing the guilt in her eyes that so closely mirrors his own.

There's Glenn, asking him to help Maggie somehow, as if he's capable of helping anyone else when he can't do anything to help himself. Daryl has no answer for him, except to give her time. He knows that advice is worth nothing, time won't do shit to erase what's happened or ease the pain.

Tyreese tries only once before he gives up, and the newcomers never knew her well enough to try. Sasha at least is still too lost in her own grief to want to help him with his. Noah keeps his distance, maybe worried that Daryl blames him for Beth's death. Daryl thinks maybe he should reassure the kid that it wasn't his fault, but what does it matter?

It does matter.

He'll do it one day soon.

Michonne side eyes him but stays silent at least, while Carol seems to think he might want to talk about his feelings or somethin', reminding him she's there if he does.

Daryl doesn't. Won't change a damn thing to talk about it, won't make him feel better none, to spill all of that out of his soul when not a one of them will understand.

They think they know, think they've figured it out after seeing him break down over her body. Stupid fucking redneck, fallin' in love with the sweetest girl in the apocalypse when everyone knows the good ones don't survive. No surprise there, who wouldn't love a girl like that, all sunshine and goodness? But what could there have possibly been between them except for his own one sided yearnin'? Girl like that would never look twice at him unless he was the last man alive. He knows they pity him, he knows they think he'll get over it eventually when he's just had enough time.

They think they know him. They think they knew her. None of them know shit.

Not a one of them ever really knew her, not even her own damn sister. Saw her as Judith's caregiver, soft girl singin' songs and living in dreams. Hadn't he thought the same back at the prison before she showed him who she really was?

But Beth was strong, stronger than any of them. He wishes she'd been weaker, wishes she'd stayed behind him and let him protect her when Dawn made her little announcement. Wishes she hadn't been everything that Beth Greene really was.

No the others don't know shit, don't understand it, and Daryl's not gonna waste his words trying to explain it. Let them remember her as they want to, let them never really know what they've truly lost in losing her.

So Daryl keeps doing what he has to, distancing himself, and grieving alone. Walks the long road to DC alongside Carl and Judith, vowing he'll keep them both safe for her sake.

The miles melt away under his feet, and Daryl finds himself humming from time to time, following those tunes of hers he hears in his head.

Warm sunlight on his face and all he can think about is the glow of candlelight on her skin, the sound as her mouth formed an 'Oh' of recognition, the slight upturn of her lips before he rushed away to open that damn door, flustered like a schoolboy on a first date.

All the things that might have been, if only there'd been time, if only he'd stayed and said the words rather than running from it, though he still doesn't know which words would have fit.

Let them keep thinking that they know him, that they knew her. Let them never really understand what it is that he's lost.

No, the others don't know shit, and he won't be the one to tell them.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has followed or favourited, I am trying to update quickly though I don't get as much time as I'd like to write! Please do leave a review if you're enjoying it or have any comments!