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The whole night was going balls up, not that he was surprised. The world wasn't in the habit of making anything easy on them. They’d never had a rescue mission go off without a hitch before and it wasn’t happening then either. This herd was particularly rambunctious and he couldn’t help the slick sick feeling that hit his gut. But Daryl didn’t have much time to dwell on it. The walkers were coming at them as quickly as they were putting them down.
But they moved like a well-oiled machine. They all knew what to do, how to move around each other in synchrony. He kept track of each person as he fought. But really, there was only one person that mattered, Paul.
The second his eyes locked on Jesus, Daryl couldn’t look away. He watched the effortlessly flawless movements of his partner. He watched as Jesus took down a group of walkers on his own. And even in the frenzy of it all, he couldn’t help but worship the very sight of him. Jesus had his hair tied back in that stupidly sexy bun, a wild look in his eyes as he glided through the air. Fucking perfection on Earth, if anyone asked Daryl.
Jesus caught Daryl in his sight and turned to give him a smile. His eyes shone brightly. It still made Daryl’s heart jump to know that look was only for him. He watched as Jesus picked up the knife he dropped and got back up to make his way toward him when a walker jumped out of nowhere. It was simple, Jesus was fast and he’d take the walker out in no time. Except it didn’t happen like that. Time stood still as Daryl helplessly watched it all play out in front of him. The walker lunged for Jesus and the younger man lifted his sword. It should have been easy, but the walker dodged his swing. Jesus spun in the force of his missed blow. His back was to the walker when it grabbed the weapon in Jesus’ hand and plunged it into his back.
“NO!” Daryl screamed out. The sound is barely human.
A look of shock crossed over Jesus’ face as he cried out in pain. He reached a hand out in his direction and Daryl could only watch as his whole world crumbled to the ground. His insides were burning, acid spilled out into his veins. Everything swirled around him as his heart sank. Without thinking he lifted his bow and put an arrow into the walker’s head as he ran to Jesus.
He fell to the ground and scooped Jesus into his arms. He could feel the blood rushing out of the wound. Daryl hiccuped as tears spilled from his eyes.
“WE NEED SOME FUCKIN’ HELP OVER HERE!”
But no one came, they couldn’t. They had no choice. They had to continue to put down the rest of the walkers.
“Oh God, no… no… Paul,” Daryl sobbed. His voice is small and broken. He ran a trembling hand along the side of Jesus’ face.
It felt like his still beating heart was being cut from his chest. He couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t happening.
“SOMEBODY! FUCKIN’ HELP!” he screamed out again.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” Jesus’ voice cracked as he raised a hand to cup Daryl’s face. “Shhhh.”
Daryl pressed his face into his hand, whimpering. A set of bloody coughs ripped through Jesus and Daryl felt his body shake in his arms.
“Baby… Please,” Daryl choked out, wiping the blood from the corners of Jesus’ mouth.
It was frightening how calm Jesus was. If he felt any fear Daryl wouldn’t have known if not for the tears that silently spilled from his blue eyes.
“Daryl, babe….” his voice was nothing more than a whisper.
The rest of the group finally reached them, but it didn’t matter. At that moment, the world consisted of only them, as it had for all the days, months, and years prior.
“Daryl Dixon,” Jesus continued. “You are the best thing… that has ever happened to me -”
“Nnn.. no, stop” Daryl interrupted. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t listen to a goodbye. It couldn’t be goodbye, not yet, he thought as his body trembled violently.
Jesus gently shook his head and continued, “In my whole life… I have never - been happier… I love you… more than I could ever say.” He looked up at Daryl with desperate eyes.
“No… shhh, baby, don’t… It’s gonna - it’s gonna be okay. Shiddiq’s gonna fix this,” he said as he cried. He was lying, everyone knew it.
Jesus smiled again, blinking rapidly as he tried and failed to rid himself of tears.
“No.” It was final. Jesus knew it was the end.
He used what was left of his strength to pull Daryl down to him and kissed him. It didn’t last long. Neither could breathe well. But it was beautiful and soul crushing.
“I will always be with yo-”
Before Jesus could finish an agonizing gasp burst from his lips. One last set of consuming coughs tore through him and sent blood flying onto Daryl’s horrified face. It felt like knives tearing into flesh.
He pulled Jesus close to him, resting the younger man’s head on his shoulder. “Please, please, please…” Daryl kept repeating.
“Please, I - I love you.”
“I know,” Jesus’ shaking voice responded.
It was the last thing Daryl heard before he felt Jesus go limp in his arms.
It all went silent. As though with his final breath, having realized what it had lost, the world went still. The only things that could be heard in the still, black night were Daryl’s gut-wrenching sobs. His pain was palpable. It filled all the space around them.
It was over. It was too late. There was nothing left for any of them to do than watch one of the strongest people they knew finally break.
Daryl screamed and screamed as he rocked Jesus’ body in his arms. His life was over. It was too much for any of them to bare.
He lowered Jesus to look over his beautiful gentle face, and if it weren’t for the blood, he would have almost believed that the younger man was asleep. He so desperately wanted to. It was all just a nightmare and soon he’d wake up in Paul’s arms, in their bed, in their home. And life would go on.
Daryl lowered his head to Jesus’ chest, he had no heartbeat.
“NO… GOD,” Daryl bawled. “PLEASE… NOT YOU!”
The rest of the group stood by, keeping guard, with tear filled eyes. Hearts bleeding, minds broken at the sight.
“Please don’t.. don’t leave me - come back, baby… I can’t - I… without- “ Daryl was babbling.
They let him grieve, but as time went on they knew they couldn’t stay much longer. It wasn’t safe. And soon Jesus… They all knew what had to happen, but none could or wanted to go near Daryl.
Michonne was the only one together enough and frankly brave enough to go near Daryl. The rest looked on as she put a hand on Daryl’s shoulder. He flinched and scurried away like a frightened wounded animal; Jesus still in his arms. She instantly backed away when she saw the crazed look he had in his eyes.
“WHY!?!” He screamed, shaking Jesus’ body, tears and saliva running down his face and onto Jesus’ shirt. He screamed and screamed until his throat was raw and his voice was gone.
“Daryl, we - “ Michonne was struggling for the right words. “We can’t stay. He’s-”
Daryl fucking knew what had to be done. He knew what he had to do. He just wasn’t ready to hear it. He looked at Michonne and he knew she understood. He would kill anyone who tried to lay a hand on Jesus.
“You lied,” Daryl said.
For a moment she was confused until she realized he wasn’t speaking to her.
“You lied to me. You promised we’d always be together. You said we were partners. You made me believe…” Daryl’s voice was small.
He was fractured.
“Daryl? It’s time,” Tara whispered, coming up behind him and hugging him. She ran her hand down his arm to his hand. She took it and put a blade into it.
Daryl felt the weight of it in his hand and looked up at Tara like she was a monster, but she was right. This world couldn’t have him. He wouldn’t let this piece of shit world consume him. He turned the blade in his hand and brought it to the base of Jesus’ skull. He hiccuped as he brushed away the little stray hairs from around Paul’s beautiful face. He leaned down and placed a kiss on the younger man’s forehead as he let out another gurgled sob and he sunk the blade into Jesus’ head.
“I love you.”
Daryl dropped the knife and knocked it away from him. Tara walked back over to him with Michonne at her back. She offered him a hand. Looking at her red swollen face made him ache even more. It was real. He looked around to find everyone pretty much looked the same as Tara.
“We have to go,” she said quietly. “It’s too dangerous.”
Daryl made no effort to move. He felt the blood leaving Jesus’ head and soaking his hands, arms, and legs.
“Please? … Daryl?” She pled. “We need to take Jes - Paul home.”
That registered with him. He looked down at his lover and then up at Tara’s still extended hand.
He gripped Jesus tighter and closer to his chest as he got up onto his knees. In a second, he had Tara and Michonne on each side of him, helping him to stand up. Once they got them up Daryl lifted Jesus into his arms, draped across him, like he’d done so many times before.
He was the leader of a morbid parade. He led them back to their horses and through the muffled cries, he heard them talking about how they would manage to get them back.
“He stays with me. Paul’s horse. Someone get my mine.” He wasn't speaking in full sentences, but he didn’t care. What was there left to care about anyway?
Daryl hopped onto Jesus’ horse. Aaron, Michonne, and Tara helped to lift Jesus and lay him across Daryl’s lap.
“It’s going to be a difficult ride,” Aaron said.
“It ain’t,” Daryl responded before he took off without waiting for anyone else. “Yaa!”
“God damn it!” Rosita shouted as he took off.
Daryl honestly had no idea how he made it back. There was instant chaos. He heard the guards yelling. He heard them say Jesus’ name.
The others arrived minutes later. Daryl managed to get down and lower Jesus back into his arms. Everyone was running toward them and the only thought Daryl has is they can't have him.
More people began to arrive and then cry as they realized what happened. Daryl couldn’t take it. It’s too much. He needed to be alone. They needed to be alone. Paul doesn’t like when people crowd him. He could hear the whispers all around him. They wanted to take him away from Daryl. It wasn’t going to happen. Daryl lowers Jesus’ body to the ground. He stood in front of him and raised his bow, pointing it at his friends and family. They all had a look of pity in their eyes like they don't believe that Daryl will use it.
“You can’t have him,” he yelled as he paced in front of Jesus. “I won’t let you take him away from me!”
They all looked at him in concern. He felt a new wave of tears streaming down his face. His heart was beating against his chest, trying its best to break through. It was getting harder to breathe. Rosita and Tara walked closer to him. He hesitated for a moment and lowered his bow, but then brought it right back up.
“Ya think I won’t!” He screamed. “Ya fuckin’ think I won’t!”
His movements were becoming more and more erratic. He banged the side of the bow against his head. Too much. It’s too much.
“Daryl,” someone called out to him. He turned towards it and just as he did Rosita clocked him in the back of the head with her blade.
“Let's take him inside,” Michonne told the others.
“What about Jesus?” Aaron asked sadly.
“We’ll wait for Daryl to come around and see what he wants to do.”
“Do you think he’s gonna be okay any time soon?” Tara asked, concern filling every word.
“No,” Rosita answered. “He’s never going to be okay. He's never going to be Daryl again. So I think that we should all get used to that now. The Daryl we knew died out there with Jesus.”
It was a slap in the face. But it was true and that scared the shit out of them.
“We need to send a messenger to Carol. Hopefully, she can help,” Michonne stated.
- - - -
Daryl woke up screaming in one of the extra rooms in Barrington House. His arms were tied down. He struggled against them, trying his hardest to free himself.
“Stop moving and I’ll let you go,” he heard a soft voice say to him from the corner of the room. Carol.
“What the fuck, Carol?”
She walked over to the bed and sat down next to him. “It was for protection and my idea.”
“I don't need any fuckin’ protection!” He spat out at her, feeling angry and betrayed.
“I know that. I meant for everyone else,” she told him as she brushed his hair out of his eyes.
“You took down four guys before they managed to sedate you.”
He pulled against the restraints again but gave up. The gaping hole in his chest ached like nothing else in his life ever had. He’d preferred any torture over what he felt. He let out a pained cry, tears welling up in his eyes.
“I can't breathe… Carol. Oh, God… I can’t,”
Carol untied him and brought him into her arms. “I’m so sorry Daryl. I’m so so sorry.”
They spent hours in the bed, with Daryl sobbing uncontrollably into her lap. She ran her hand over his head and did her best to provide even the smallest bit of comfort as she cried herself.
“You have to decide what you want to do for Paul,” she whispered when he finally quieted down. Daryl froze under her touch. “I know you don't want to talk about this, but he deserves to be put to rest. You need to say goodbye, and so does everyone else.”
“I can’t.”
“You have to, he is yours and you are his. No one else can decide.”
“I dunno what to do,” Daryl whimpered. “This is killing me, Carol.”
“I know,” she said, rubbing her hand down his back.
“Flowers,” Daryl answered. “He’d never admit it, but he loves flowers.”
“Okay, that’s a start. We have plenty of those.”
“He can't be buried, fire, he’s gotta be burned.
He never wanted to be stuck behind these walls when he was alive an’ I ain’t leave him here now,” Daryl mumbled between shaky gasps.
“I understand, and that’s fine, but what about a marker. Something we can visit?”
That made him angry.
“Visit? What the fuck’s the point? He’s gone! He ain’t fuckin’ here anymore! Some stupid piece of wood ain’t gonna make a fuckin’ difference!”
Daryl was off the bed, grabbing the glass on the nightstand and throwing it against the wall before Carol even made a move. The noise brought in two men, both sporting black eyes, who were standing guard outside his room.
“Everything’s fine,” Carol told them with a small reassuring smile on her face. “I promise, please, we just need our space.”
Daryl felt like he was going insane. He felt like a caged animal. He wanted to tear into everyone and everything.
“I DON’T CARE! I DON’T FUCKIN’ CARE!”
Daryl was on his knees screaming. Carol got down on the floor with him and took him into her arms.
“I can’t do this Carol,” he whispered. “It hurts so bad… I wanna die.”
Carol let out a small broken whimper before she plunged a syringe into his neck. “I’m sorry Pookie.”
- - - -
His head was throbbing when he woke up. He was still in the same room, but he wasn’t tied down this time. Carol had drugged him, again. He wished he could be pissed at her for what she did, but he couldn’t blame her. There was a tray of food on the table, the thought of it alone made him sick. The world felt grey.
The door opened, and Daryl didn't bother turning around. He knew it was Carol. She came up next to him.
“I made all the arrangements. There are going to be flowers. Lots of them. Everyone built a pyre. And I went ahead and had a tombstone made,” Carol said as if she were telling him about the dinner menu. “It’s today. We can’t wait any longer, Daryl. So I need you to take a shower. I brought you some clean clothes. Put them on and come downstairs. Everyone’s waiting.”
She got up and left the room as quickly and silently as she came in.
Everyone’s waiting. Waiting for him. He got up and went to the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked like shit. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen. He was paler than he’d been in a long time. He barely recognized the thing looking back at him. He did as he was told. He took an ice shower and put on the clothes Carol had brought him. He was doing all of it for Paul. He deserved to be honored, to be remembered. He slowly made his way downstairs. He tried his best to muster up the courage he needed to go through with this. Carol was seating in a chair facing him. She stood up the second she saw him and went over to him. She laced her arm through his and led him through the door, the sun stung his eyes. There were so many people there, from The Hilltop, Alexandria, the Kingdom, and more. Daryl shouldn't have been surprised. Jesus had been so loved. He had touched the lives of so many people. He looked over and saw Michonne holding RJ in her arms. She’d brought the kids. Why had she done that? Judith stood next to her, tears rolling down her little face. Daryl thought he was going to be sick.
Carol led him to the pyre, to Paul. The bottom was covered in what had to be hundreds of flowers. A wooden slab that read, Paul “Jesus” Rovia - Loving Partner, Brother, and Friend, is next to it. He swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to look at him. The second he laid eyes on his partner, a strangled cry escape him and his knees gave out. He hit the ground with a thud. The tears poured out of him uncontrollably. All he could hear was blood rushing in his ears. Aaron came over and helped lift him. He stood next to him and held his hand.
He looked up at him again. They had dressed him in white. His hair was combed out and a crown of flowers rested on his head. He looked beautiful and peaceful. He felt his friends tense as he attempted to move closer, but then they let him go. He had to see. They’d touched his body, without his permission. Had they taken it from him? Daryl walked up to the pyre and brushed his fingers against Jesus’ cheek. He retracted as if he was shocked. His skin was cold. But he went back to what he was looking for. A small silver chain still hung around his neck and at the end of it a small silver band. He reached under Jesus’ head and unclasped the chain. He removed the band and yanked the matching one from around his neck.
Jesus’ hands were folded on his chest. Daryl’s hand shook as lifted Jesus’ left hand. Everyone watched in silence as Daryl took the band from his chain and slipped it on the fourth finger of the younger man’s left hand and then slip the one from Jesus’ onto his own. They’d made a promise to each other. It was the only one Daryl knew he’d never break. He heard a new wave of muffled sobs and did his best to ignore them. He was already in so much pain, he couldn’t handle anyone else's. He leaned down and placed a kiss on Jesus’ lips.
He turned back to Carol, who had her hand over her mouth, she wiped her face and called him back to her. Everything was sharp. It all had an edge. It all was cutting into him. His insides were being eaten and the rest of him was on fire.
Gabriel cleared his throat. “It is with heavy hearts that our communities gather here today. We all feel the loss in the passing of our brother Paul, or Jesus as many of us came to know him. We gather to honor the memory of a man who was selfless. He gave without want to all he held dear. There is no doubt that we all could share a story of Paul’s compassion, loyalty, kindness, and love. But is not all these things that marked this man as great. It was his unwavering desire and belief in this world we are building. In these times of great sorrow, Paul was a beacon of hope and positivity. He had the ability to inspire hope in all those around him. He saw the potential for good that lies within us all. And for that, we have lost a guiding star in our lives. In these few years, I have had to preside over the funeral of many people I held dear. There are no words that I or anyone can offer to quell the hurt. But we must remember to keep our faith in the Lord. For even when times seem darkest. He is there with us. - One of Paul’s family members has asked to read.”
Gabriel ended, motioning for someone to come up. It was Enid. Her eyes were red with tears and she sniffled as she tried to find her voice to speak.
“Tis a fearful thing to love what death can touch.
A fearful thing to love, to hope, to dream, to be –
to be, And oh, to lose.
A thing for fools, this,
And a holy thing,
a holy thing to love.
For your life has lived in me,your laugh once lifted me, and your word was a gift to me.
To remember this brings painful joy.
‘Tis a human thing, love, a holy thing, to love what death has touched.“
Daryl isn’t strong enough for what was happening. He was openly sobbing by the end of Enid’s reading. And so was everyone else. Gabriel took her into his arms.
“Today we remember a man who was brave and unashamed. A man who made no judgments and ask for all of us to do the same. He was an inspiration to us all. He was fearless and unwavering in his love and devotion. None of us, more than his husband, Daryl, could tell you how completely Paul gave his heart.“
The air was sucked right out of Daryl’s chest. Husband. Husband, to hear it out loud on this day. He had so many regrets. Why hadn’t he shouted it to everyone, why had he been so fucking scared? It felt so right, but it was too late. It was a blade to his already bleeding heart.
“The places that Paul filled in our hearts and our lives will remain empty. There can be no replacement. But Paul will live on in our minds and souls. For as long as we remember the man who was full of life and love, he will live on in us. So each time we laugh, each time we sing, each piece of food eaten or clothes that cover our bodies, we remember the sacrifice Paul made for us. It was Paul’s wish to be cremated. And so I invite all of you to leave a flower and to say your goodbyes as we set Paul’s soul free to be at peace with the Lord.
Lord, God, in heaven, we ask you not to look over your son, Paul, but to look over the loved ones he has left behind. Give us the strength and the understanding to know that Paul’s suffering has ended. That he has come home to you to live in everlasting love and happiness.”
Daryl watched through a haze as all the people made their way to the pyre and left a flower on top. It felt like a movie. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.
“Daryl?” Carol whispered as she handed him a beautiful blue flower.
She walked with him. He took one last look at his partner, his lover, his husband, his life. Daryl placed the flower over Paul’s heart. He heard the ignition of a flame. He felt the torch being put in his hand. He took it and lit the pyre.
Flames engulfed Paul instantly. Carol pulled him back. Maybe she was afraid he’d climb right on top with Paul. Maybe she wasn’t wrong.
He stumbled back and sat on the ground. He watched as the flames grew taller and brighter. He wanted to reach out and touch. Would it burn him? Would the flames blister his skin? Would he even feel it? Pain. He wanted it. He needed it. Maybe it would stop what was going on inside him. Maybe it would make him forget.
- - - -
Daryl stayed long after everyone had left, even Carol. The sun had gone down and Paul was still burning. He was going to stay till the end.
There was no way he was ever going to leave his side. He watched the flames burn, taking all his hopes, his dreams, and his reason for living with them.
“Daryl?” He was getting tired of hearing people call his name.
He didn't bother answering he had nothing to say. There was nothing to say. There was no string of words that anyone could put together that would make a damn difference.
“We all understand how you feel,” he listened to a voice call out to him. It was Maggie.
He wanted to get up and run to her, but he also wanted to grab her and shake her. She’d been away for so long. And now she was back?
When Paul was gone? Rage filled him.
“Yeah?” He said stalking right up to her. To her credit, she didn't flinch. “Ya think you know how this feels? Ya think ya know my pain? Bullshit.”
“I -” he cut her off before she even started.
“What? What ya gonna say? Huh? Where have ya been? We needed ya. Paul needed ya.” Daryl whimpered.
“I’m so sorry,” she said back.
“YER SORRY! NOW YER FUCKIN’ SORRY?! YA THINK ANYTHIN’ YER GONNA SAY TO ME IS GONNA MEAN A GOD DAMN THING?” Daryl shouted at her. He turned to face the rest of his family as they began to gather around him.
“ANY OF YA?”
Daryl paced back and forth. “Ya think ya know ‘cause ya lost someone. I ain’t lost somebody! I lost everything!”
Daryl picked up the discarded torch and threw it.
“I ain’t never had anythin’! Anythin’ in this whole damn world,” he spun around looking at everyone accusingly. “Had a nice life before the end didn’t ya? Friends? Family who loved ya? Date nights? Vacations? Nice houses? Warm beds?… I DIDN’T HAVE FUCKIN’ NONE OF THAT!”
Carol attempted to get closer to him, but Michonne and Maggie stopped her.
“YA KNOW WHAT I HAD? FUCKIN’ MERLE. AN’ DRUGS AN’ A COLD WET TENT TA HIDE IN FROM OUR POPS. TA GET AWAY FROM WHEN HE WAS PISS DRUNK AND DECIDED HE WANTED TO USE ME FOR TARGET PRACTICE! THAT’S WHAT I HAD!”
His eyes were swollen, almost to the point of being shut. Tears burned the already raw skin of his cheeks.
“PAUL!” Daryl shouted, spinning in frustration, banging his knuckles into his head. They didn't understand. They could never understand.
“Paul… he was the only good thing I ever called mine,” he continued as he jabbed himself in the chest with his fingers. “He was everything. The only taste I ever had o’ somethin’ good… And he loved me!”
Daryl fell to his knees, head hung low, arms dangling uselessly at his sides. “Me… Just some dumb fucked up piece of shit redneck from the back hills of Georgia, but he loved me.”
“So what am I suppos’ ta do without him? What’s the point… there ain’t nothin' left on this shit planet. Tell me again how any of y’all understand.”
Maggie came over to him and put a hand on his shoulder, but he brushed it away. He didn’t want to be touched. Not now, not ever again.
“Just leave me. Just leave me alone, an’ let me die in peace.”
Daryl got up and walked away. Heading towards their home.
- - - -
Daryl turned the knob to their home, collapsing the second the smell of Paul hit his nose. He crawled his way into the trailer and somehow made it to their bed. He grabbed Paul’s pillow, holding it to his chest as he screamed out in agony. He cried until he had nothing left. He pressed his nose against the pillow taking in Paul’s scent. He was choking on it. It did nothing to help the pain. It made it worse, but Daryl wanted it.
- - - -
All the women came, one at a time, to comfort him, to convince him that life still had any meaning. They fail. Even Aaron tried, but nothing helped. Paul was gone, and the funeral had been hard, but what no one understands until it happens to them, is how hard it is when life goes back to normal. When people have to go back to living their lives and when you have to go back to living your own. That’s when it was real. When he had to wake up to an empty bed, wake up to see all the remnants of Paul’s existence. His coffee mug out where he’d left it that morning, sketch pad on the table, damned socks on the floor. Everyone he looked he was reminded of what he had and what he lost. Life was meaningless.
Eventually, they came around less and less, until Enid was the only one who did. She didn’t come to talk to him. She just left food. Every day she left food that he rarely if ever touched. His days and night blurred together. Time lost all meaning. Everything lost meaning. None of it mattered without Paul. Food lost its taste and the world lost all its color.
- - - -
“Daryl, babe? Wake up,” Paul’s soft breathy voice mumbled into his ear. He jolted awake at the sound.“Paul?”He looked around desperately, but the trailer was empty. He’d been doing that lot lately, chasing around the voice, the glimpse of a ghost.
- - - -
Every night he woke up, thinking that he might die from a heart attack and he’d welcomed it. Really. Just to be put out of his misery. He doesn't want to feel anything anymore. And then the thought popped into his head. A long forgotten comfort. Something to dull his brain.
He left in the dark when no one could see him. It took him days to find it, but he knew what a lab looked like when he came across one. It was easy enough to break in. The smell of chemicals was strong. His heart raced. He was being reckless. Paul wouldn’t have approved. But fuck Paul. He wasn’t here anymore, he didn't have to feel the way Daryl did. Day after day of anguish.
He found little bags full of what he wanted. It felt dirty and wrong, but he did it anyway. It was just like riding a bike. Fill the pipe, bring it to your lips, light the match, inhale. His head swirled in a familiar way. And the pain went away.
He spent days there, before scooping up whatever was left and taking it back with him. He snuck back in the same way he’d left. Only this time there was someone waiting for him in the trailer.
“You son of a bitch,” Carol said. Her voice was steady but filled with anger.
“I didn’t think you’d really be so fucking stupid.” She walked right up to him and slapped him in the face. “But here you are, high as a damn kite.”
Maybe he would have cared about the disappointment in her voice, but she was right. He was high and it was amazing. He was numb and it was perfect. He couldn’t even feel the spot on his cheek that was undoubtedly red with her handprint.
“Min’ yer own damn business Carol,” he grumbled as he fell onto a chair.
She let out a hysterical laugh. “Mind my own business? So what I should just let you stay here, with that shit, and LET YOU disgrace the memory of your husband?!”
He didn’t move. The drugs coursing through his veins kept him emotionless. She stormed over to where he was sitting.
“Give it to me! Give it to me now Daryl or I swear to God almighty I will beat the shit out of you!”
He still didn’t move. It wasn't until he felt Carol digging in his bag that he sprung into action. He fought with her, but his movements were delayed. She backed away from him with what was left of his stash.
“Give it here Carol!” He said, anger boiling.
She ignored him and made her way over to the toilet. “No! Please, Carol, don’t, please I need that.. Carol.. Please,” he begged as he watched her dump it into the toilet.
“No! Carol!” he cried out as he watched her flush the toilet. “Why Carol?! I needed that!”
There were tears running down his face.
“No, you don’t. My God Daryl. You don’t.” She got down onto the floor and held him in her arms until he passed out.
He woke up in his bed and instantly threw up into the trash can that was next to the bed.
“Just let it all out. You’ve got so much of that shit in your system we’re amazed you’re still alive.”
We, he should have been embarrassed, knowing that others knew what he’d been up to, but he didn't. He felt like crap. The withdrawal. He’d forgotten about it. It was miserable, only this time he was also dealing with the hole in his heart. He was shaking and sweating.
Paul would have been so angry at him. Paul would have kicked his ass.
“I’m sorry. I just couldn’t- “
“I know, Daryl. But you can't ever do that again. You’re so much better than that.” Carol told him as she ran a damp cloth along his head.
“No, I’m not. I’m a piece of shit. I’m garbage. I never deserved him.”
“Stop saying that. None of it is true. You’re a good man Daryl Dixon.”
Daryl spent weeks recovering. Each day he got a little better, and each day the pain returned a little bit stronger. And along with it came shame and guilt and self-loathing.
- - - -
Months went by and nothing changed. He still felt lost and at the mercy of ghosts.
One by one he’d taken to sleeping on Paul’s clothes until his scent faded. Then one day, Daryl realized that Paul’s scent was gone. There was nothing of him left in the trailer. He sobbed for the first time in months.
“Why did ya leave me? Why couldn’t ya have stayed with me? How the fuck am I supposed to go on without ya? I miss ya so much.”
He was down on his knees in front of their bed. His head pressed into the mattress.
“I ain’t okay. I ain’t never gonna be okay. I wanna be with ya.”
He glanced around the trailer. The years of life spent in it were gone. “I gotta go, Paul. I can’t be here anymore,” he said in apology.
He felt like he was abandoning their home, but he just couldn’t do it anymore. He packed up a small bag. He filled it with clothes, a few of his own and a few of Paul’s favorites. He tied one of Paul’s bandanas around his neck. He walked over to his dresser and grabbed the only picture he had of the two of them together, along with some solo photos of Paul. Tara had sneakily taken it at a barbecue in Alexandria. They both looked relaxed. They were smiling, with their arms wrapped around one another. It was probably the only picture in existence with proof that once Daryl had been happy. He’d wanted to strangle her when she gave it to them, but Paul had loved it so much. He was happy he hadn’t torn it up. It was the only reminder that he had left of their life together. It had happened. It was real. He had loved Paul and Paul had loved him back.
He wanted to take more, but he couldn’t. He hoped that someone would find value in the things he left behind and keep them. But either way, that part of his life was over. He'd been given more years of happiness than he ever thought he deserved.
He scribbled a goodbye on a napkin and stuck it on the door. By the time anyone came by, he’d be long gone. And it was fine that way. He didn’t want any more goodbyes.
He climbed up the wall and stopped at the top for a second. The community was growing. There was so much going on, but it didn't mean anything to him anymore. He gave it one last look and hoped that everyone would remember Paul.
He made it over and kept walking.
He never looked back.