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The concept of dates and time died a long time ago when electricity and internet became a pipe dream. Unlike people, they wouldn't rise again.
The dead had taken over most of the world years ago. Some said it was a decade since the news reports on the radio went out and the US army went to mass bombing, in an attempt to solve the problem. Ten years of running, fighting, killing, and doing whatever had to be done to stay alive. In that time strangers became friends and roommates, then family and lovers. And sadly family became brainless, groaning monsters that littered the world.
Daryl Dixon lost everything to the fall. A list of all the people lost would've been longer than any book he read. Some deaths stuck with him more than others. Those were the ones that came to him in his dreams and the faces he saw on walkers before his arrows hit them.
Every morning he tied Beth's shoelaces around his ankles and saw her laying lifeless on the hospital floor. He forced himself to think of her laughing at one of his stories by the fire or her soft voice singing in the funeral home. Most days the screams from Maggie when he carried her out covered that noise.
Before he left the group, a dinner with Aaron ended with broken glass and both men alone in tears. Eric wasn't a close friend, but he was always nice to Daryl. He treated him like family and made him realize Alexandria could be a home for him. Aaron's burnt spaghetti sauce and apologizes hurt more than the news Eric had passed. "He always cooked it. I- I tried- I should of payed more attention when he was- when he was here," Aaron whispered before Daryl walked out, saying he needed a smoke.
They didn't have spaghetti after that.
Hunting squirrels reminded him of Rick. Once at the prison, after things went bad for Rick, but before everything went to hell, the cop asked him to show him how to hunt them. A long, hot, but successful hunting trip later ended with Rick throwing the tied up squirrels at the archer. "Ha! That's pay back from back in Atlanta!" he had laughed and took the punch to the arm Daryl gave him.
Rick's death was the last pulled stitch to make Daryl come undone. Never in over forty years had Daryl have a friend, certainly not a best friend. Merle couldn't count. They were brothers and he never liked anything Daryl did. Rick was different.
Daryl thought about him everyday. He looked for him in every heard. The man just disappeared.
Daryl did the same.
-
His camp in the wood was isolated from all the other groups. 'I'm better on my own!' he told Aaron before racing out of the gates on his bike. No one visited since no one knew. Daryl wondered if his tracking lessons with some of the group were just a waste of time.
Then one day, Jesus came. No, Paul, it was always Paul to Daryl. 'What kinda guy calls himself Jesus?'
'I didn't pick it,' Jesus had always answered.
'Ain't callin' ya that.'
Paul avoided all the walker traps with ease, but Dog's loud bark was the last thing he expected.
Daryl looked tired and not too happy to see Paul. Still, he told him to sit down for dinner and stay the night. He didn't say anything after that.
'What's his name?' Paul had asked, gesturing at the dog with his knife. He had to dodge a slap from Daryl when he took one of the fish to skin.
'Dog.' Daryl grunted.
'Dog? Really? That's not really a name.'
'Neither's Jesus.'
Paul smiled, narrowing his eyes at the other man warmly, 'It's a nickname, but dog is what he is. Not a name.'
'What he answered too,' Daryl mumbled, throwing some scraps to the mutt, 'Nothin' else to call 'im.'
That was a good enough answer for Paul. Though he had a lot more questions about the camp, why Daryl wasn't with the groups, or if anyone had come by. He had a lot of questions. It was Daryl though, the hunter never spoke much. Even with the war and Paul saving him from the Sanctuary, they didn't know each other well.
Small talk in the apocalypse was difficult. With so much death and despair, keeping things light was never easy.
When Paul left the next morning he expected Daryl to tell him not to come back or not to tell anyone where he was. Daryl didn't say anything like that. Barley a goodbye was mumbled as Paul walked away.
-
Paul made excuses to leave Hilltop often. He got stir crazy easily and needed to be somewhere without walls. Tara hated it since she was left in charge. Everyone always needed something from him.
Each time he went to see Daryl he brought something small for him. The archer was never one to take gifts or help, but Paul had a way. The night before he would leave, Paul would slip a jar of fruit, cigarettes, clean clothes, or seeds into Daryl's belongings. The older man would notice when he was long gone, but said nothing. Only when Paul found a bunch of dog bones in an abandon house he said something.
'Spoilin' him.'
'He's adorable and deserves it.'
'Does, but better not get used to it.'
'I'll bring scraps next time.'
'You comin' back?' Daryl asked. He didn't sound mad about it, just curious. He was side eyeing Paul from the fire.
'Yeah. Nice out here. No one- No one to bother me I guess.'
'Why ya running the Hilltop anyway?'
'I have no fucking idea,' Paul answered, putting his head in his hands, 'They just keep voting for me.'
'Ya good at it.'
'Maggie was so much better... I miss her.'
Daryl let out a sigh and sat down on the log next to him. 'She ain't gone.'
'I know, but it's- I never know how she's doing and if she's okay. It's worse than her being dead sometimes. If I knew she was dead I wouldn't worry.'
'Know how that feels,' Daryl mumbled. Much louder and sounding sure he added, 'She's strong though. Not a chance in hell she's dead. And ya doin' a good job, man.'
Paul smiled a little at the other man, 'Thanks. I know- I know you came out here to be alone and I'm ruining that, so I-' Daryl put his hand up telling him to stop.
'Think I'd go crazy if I got no one to talk to. Might be talkin' to Jesus himself if ya didn't come by sometimes.'
-
So Jesus came back again and again. Sometimes he brought arrows he asked the blacksmith to make, raising some eyebrows of course, sometimes he brought beer they were brewing now, sometimes he brought nothing. Daryl never seemed to mind.
They didn't always talk a lot. Usually Jesus gave him updates on what was happening in the communities. Daryl asked about a few people and Jesus answered, never asking him why he didn't go see them.
It went on like that for months, almost a year. Jesus could tell a long time had passed when he forced Daryl to let him cut his hair.
Jesus knew there was another reason he kept coming back. It wasn't just to make sure the hunter was okay or to get away from the ever demanding Hilltop.
The company of the other man felt different than the company of his friends at Hilltop. He hadn't felt that way in a long time.
From what the people of Alexandria had said, Daryl didn't talk much about his life before. In general the man rarely spoke unless he was yelling something in a fight. Personal details of his life were usually told in stories to close friends.
Jesus guessed if anyone knew a lot about Daryl it would have been Rick. With him gone the man was mystery.
One night by the fire, Jesus tried to pry a little.
'We got this nurse at Hilltop, right?' he started, getting Daryl's attention, 'His name is Alex and he's a good nurse, training to be a doctor now. Anyway, he came to talk to me the other day and kinda in a very obvious way pointed out that we're the only two gay men at Hilltop,' he watched Daryl's face as he reacted. The hunter narrowed his eyes slightly and looked Jesus over, but didn't look disgusted or anything.
He huffed it off and said, 'Heard a lot of bad pick up lines in my time, that's pretty bad.'
Paul laughed loud. Compared to Daryl's huff laugh it sounded exaggerated. 'I know. Dude almost looked offended I wasn't into it.'
'Why?'
'Why wasn't I into it?'
Daryl nodded confirming.
'Just cause I am gay doesn't mean I just like any gay dude still breathing, man.'
'Know that,' Daryl snapped, sounding offended, 'Why not him?'
'Oh. I dunno. Not my type I guess. Just not- not into him... Poor Aaron, dude, I kinda told Alex that he might be interested to get him to back off.'
That got Daryl to laugh. Paul loved the noise even though it was usually just a huff. It showed the other man was happy for once.
'Aaron- how's he?'
'Good. I see him from time to time. He's- adjusting I guess. He's kinda Michonne's right hand man... I didn't mean-' Paul said, ending in a laughing fit that Daryl joined.
'That's cold, Rovia.'
'He has a hand! It's just metal!'
Daryl pushed him gently as he laughed.
Laughing, smiling, telling jokes... All those things Daryl hadn't done since he before he watched the bridge explode. It felt nice.
-
Getting close to someone in the apocalypse never felt like a good idea to Daryl. Everyone dies. Everyone turns.
Since day one of meeting Paul he knew the man could handle himself. Hell, the little ninja got the jump on both him and Rick more than once. It didn't make sense for someone like Paul to die in this world.
Still, Daryl didn't feel good about having the other man so close.
He was a grown ass man, he knew who he was, what he was. Years of repression didn't matter when the world ended. His dad was long gone and Merle was in the ground states away. No one from his past could judge him for who he was anymore.
He was gay and in the land of the undead that was the least of his problems. Before, he hid it in every way he could. After, it was just something that never came up, apart from questions about his life before.
'You ever think about it? Settling down?' Abarham had asked him once. Not 'you ever think about having a wife or girlfriend'.
Daryl never did think about it.
Days spent fishing and hunting with Paul were the best. Nights of talking by the fire about the groups or the past were easy. Things were never easy for Daryl. But Paul was.
'Stay,' Daryl said one night. They were skinning rabbits they hunted that afternoon in complete silence. The river was having too loud of a conversation with the cicadas.
'I always stay the night.'
'Nah. Stay. Ya don't like it back there. It ain't- ain't for you.'
Their eyes locked, deep green on blue, having a silent conversation.
'I can't,' Paul had said after some time. 'They need me. The Hilltop- it'll fall without me. No one else wants to run it.'
'That means ya gotta?'
'Yeah.'
Daryl grunted and threw a bone into the river with more force than he needed to.
'I'll come back,' Paul added quietly.
'Course.'
Daryl hugged him when he left that time. It wasn't a tight hug or anything close, but a half bodied hug that ended with the older mans hand on his shoulder. The silent exchange of 'stay safe' was given before it was over.
-
.After.
"You- you lost something back there," Aaron said, sitting next to Daryl. The graveyard at Hilltop had grown since they were both last there. Now their friend had joined the many crosses.
A joke could be made about a guy called Jesus being marked by a cross, but no one was in the mood for jokes.
"All did."
"Yeah, we did. But- Jesus told me he used to visit you in the woods. He said you were close."
Daryl continued to stare at the grass he was picking at. Everyone he was 'close' to at one point was now dead, Carol and Aaron excluded.
Aaron's hand on his should made him flinch, cold metal on hot skin. "Daryl, he- he meant something to you. And you did to him- he told me. I know- I really know what you're going through."
"Man, don't," Daryl said in a whimper, "Ya don't know- ya can't. He-" he stopped, dropping his head into his chest.
"I do." Aaron whispered. He took his prosthetic hand back and watched his friend. Daryl looked like a ghost or like he had seen one. There wasn't anything to stare at, but Daryl was looking like there was an important message on the Hilltop walls.
Every few seconds he would glance at the grave sight, like he was keeping watch over it. Enid had left flowers earlier, green ones much different to the pink Daryl put on top of Paul's wrapped body.
Sometimes Paul would pick wild flowers that grew around Daryl's camp then talk for ages about the meanings of the colors. Part of Daryl could swear there were no flowers before Paul started coming around, and wondered if now they'd be gone.
He probably would've had an argument about Daryl giving him pink flowers since they represented femininity. But they were the closest to red he could find, and Daryl knew those were a symbol of love.
If Merle could see him now, he thought with a mental scoff, sitting on his boyfriend's grave thinking about flowers.
Merle. Another person he lost, haunting him.
He wondered if Paul would do the same. Maybe getting heat stroke after being stabbed by his own arrow wasn't a bad idea if it meant he could see Paul again.
"Come back with me. Alexandria, it's different now, but still good. I live in the same house, it's lonely without him, but it was our house. I can't leave, but I have room and company would be nice... You shouldn't be alone."
"I'm better on my own."
"Really? You weren't better with him?"
Daryl stalked away, leaving Aaron with a bloody nose and red mark on his face.
-
Daryl kissed Paul for the first time on a rainy fall afternoon.
There was nothing special about that day, apart from Paul showing up to his camp. They were on a hunt, tracking a deer he had spotted on the walk over. Dog alerted them of walkers long before they stumbled over to them.
Daryl covered Paul as he did his weird ninja moves mixed with stabbing into skulls. He shot around the man as he jumped and kicked about. Just as he went to reload the bow, a walker came up behind Paul, grabbing his arm. It's snapping teeth bit down before Paul could react, then a second later it was on the ground. Groaning, Paul fell into the closest tree to him.
'You fuckin idiot!' Daryl snapped, pushing Paul back against the tree. He harshly tried to remove the younger mans jacket so he could look at the wound.
'Hey! It didn't go through!' Paul helped him, shimmying out of the coat, 'I don't wear this all the time cause I like it, man.'
Daryl grabbed his bare arm, turning it every way. Not a single mark was on the mans tan skin apart from freckles. That stupid coat really saved his ass or at least his arm.
'See?'
'Dammit, Paul, ya gotta be more careful!' Daryl yelled anyway, gripping his arm tighter.
'I was, I'm not bit!'
'If ya were? Really wanna go around with no arm? Fuck, we're in the middle of nowhere, ya would've just bled out!'
'Daryl, I'm not bit,' Paul said, grabbing the mans muscular shoulder.
They stared at each other for a bit, heavy breathing filling the silence. Something in Daryl's brain snapped at the thought of his friend dying that day. It was safe to call him a friend at that point.
'Fuck you,' Daryl said, confusing Paul. Before the other could ask why, he was pushed against the tree again and met with Daryl's lips on his.
-
"You're leaving? Now?" Michonne paced over to him, as he packed his bike up.
"Yeah."
"Those people are still out there, we don't even know how many. It's not safe."
"Being anywhere ain't safe. I'm better off out there. Dog! Come on!" he yelled, getting the dog to come running away from the Hilltop members who were petting him.
"Daryl, stop. STOP!" the woman yelled with a grab to his shoulder, he flinched and shrugged off. "I saw you that night," she said, her voice and expression going soft, "Jesus- you and him were something, right?"
Daryl grunted and pulled away from her, "Don't matter. He's dead. Ain't never mattered."
"It does. You can't run from this."
"Can. Shoulda never come back."
"If you didn't more of us would've been dead back there."
"Or he woulda lived."
"You don't know that."
"Ya don't either," Daryl mumbled, going back to his bike.
Michonne followed him the short distance. "Daryl, we need you. You want to run from this, you can. Or- you can help us. Kill the friends of that freak who killed Je- who killed Paul."
Daryl stopped. No one besides him called Jesus 'Paul'. Paul even said that one night to him, he said he liked it too. That of course was followed by an annoying pet name Paul kept trying to push on the other man. Apparently boyfriends didn't just call each other 'man' or their names... Or prick.
Paul always liked when Daryl tried though. He would smile so wide his eyes would crinkle when the other man called him 'lil' ninja' or even just 'P'. That smile Daryl wouldn't see again.
His eyes welled up, but he hid it under his bruised knuckles the best he could.
"Daryl," she said quietly, turning him around to hold his cheek, "I know what you lost and I know it won't fix it, but punching your friends wont either. Stopping us from getting hurt might."
Daryl didn't look at her. He moved away slowly and nodded, "They don't deserve to live."
"They don't. Everyone agrees on that."
"He deserved to."
Michonne nodded, "He was a good man. The reason we're all together now. He- he really did change every thing for us."
Daryl responded with a quiet huff and nod. He looked over at his bike, where Dog was sitting, paitcently waiting. Then his gaze went to the graveyard. Those flowers could have been spotted a mile away. The people of Hilltop left more during the brief period Daryl wasn't there.
They lost someone too. Daryl hadn't thought of that. His mourning, while justified, felt unjustified and selfish. They lost their leader, solider, scavenger, friend, to some a brother, and to many, the person who saved them.
Paul would have wanted them to be safe. That's all he ever wanted, right from the start. Not killing Daryl and Rick when they stole- what turned out to be Paul's truck to begin with (that was an awkward, yet funny story he told Daryl one night), that showed Paul just wanted what was best for his people. No one had to die... The Saviors excluded, and now, the- freaks or whatever they were.
They would die. All of them.
They killed the one person Daryl let himself get close to again. They ruined everything when things felt like they couldn't get worse. They would pay.
"Gotta talk to Aaron."
"Before you leave?"
"'Fore I sleep."
Michonne smiled sadly at Daryl. They would beat this group, just like they did many times before. People always died, but they always won. What happened next was all that could matter. Everything before was gone.