Chapter Text
It felt like their first time being together as a family.
The fancy house filled to the brim, smelling like onions and fresh herbs. There was laughing, smiling, as if they had not nearly lost each other only hours earlier. They had days like this before in Alexandria, when times were good and there was peace. Daryl had always come to them, for the Grimes’ sake mostly. He would avoid the center, lingering against the wall or in the yard, slipping out as soon as Carol or Michonne were distracted enough where he wouldn’t be stopped.
Old habits die hard.
They were winding down. The dishes being cleaned in the kitchen, the kids on the couch struggling to keep their eyes open. Rosita had been escorted upstairs to a bedroom, with the cushiest fucking bed he had ever seen, Gabriel and Eugene on either side of her and Aaron carrying Coco behind them. He had watched them go, her slow movements making him look away, a pang of guilt through his chest. It never got easier.
He leaned against the wall of the hallway, the staircase looming over him. The sound of running water and chatter from the kitchen, laughter from every room and from every direction. He felt crowded there, as if the walls were too close and the ceiling too low. Things were good, but for how long? Only a matter of time before they had to face reality. The urge to run away still in his bones, even after all these years later.
He pushed off the wall, using his shoulders as leverage. His boots were quiet on the rug as he headed toward the back door. He opened the door slowly, one foot out and the other following, slipping silently into the night air. The wrap around porch was wide and covered, old chipping white paint showing its age. It was dark, but the light from the home left a soft glow. The space was a perfect escape, close enough to be visible and not draw suspicion; far enough away that he wouldn’t feel like he was suffocating under what may happen.
It would appear that he was not the only one who had a similar idea. Connie leaned against the railing, looking out over the yard. She hadn’t sensed that he was behind her, an unusual response. He was aware that the two of them had not had a moment together. They hadn’t had a moment to recover - him from the shock of Judith and her from Luke. Daryl had watched her closely in the hospital. The desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, blood all over her hands. Some of it mixed with the tears on her cheeks, leaving streaks against her tanned skin, coppery and wet on her face. He had looked on helplessly, unable to do anything as one of the few people left in the world she loved died under her watch. He knew the feeling all too well.
He stepped toward her. A look over her shoulder.
He waved at her, a small smile on his lips. The smallest of twitches in her lips, face relaxing as she realized it was him. She seemed to look beyond him, as if to see if anyone else was making their way out of the house. He caught the quick glance, familiar and ever so subtle. He had done it plenty of times himself.
“Only me,” he signed.
She turned to face him fully, leaning back against the railing. She cocked her head to the side, a few curls falling onto her forehead as she did. Her small smile grew, widening seemingly against her own will.
“Good. I don’t want to share you,”
Carol would say that she was flirting with him. He had no way in hell of knowing if she was right. But he couldn’t ignore the rise of heat through his cheeks at her smile, the rush when he realized she was okay with him joining her. Maybe even wanted him there. He stepped forward, going to stand next to her, lowering himself slightly so that they were shoulder to shoulder. She watched him as he moved, eyes following his body as it came toward her. If it had been anyone else, he would have been self-conscious, aware of every small twitch of his muscles. But he let her watch, meeting her eyes only when he was comfortable.
“You doing alright?”
“Now that you’re here,”
He scoffed, “Stop,”
"The truth ?” She shrugged before signing, “There’s wine ”
He gave a choked laugh, the edge of his lip moving into a slight smile.
“Could be worse,”
“Much worse.”
They shared a look, amusement in her face, before she turned her eyes to look to the other side of her, back into the night. He considered not asking again, moving on with their light teasing, maybe going inside and getting her another glass of the aged wine they had found hidden in the depths of the Commonwealth. It would have been easy, so so easy. But he couldn’t leave the question hanging in the air.
He elbowed her arm gently, “Hey,” his voice raspy and quiet. She looked back at him.
“Seriously , you okay? ”
Connie crossed her arms in response. She looked up at the ceiling, head tilting back slightly. The air between them seemed to shift, growing heavy with every passing second. She was out here to hide, to not face the new reality that lied inside of the walls of the house in front of them. It answered his question, not that he needed her to tell him. Daryl wasn’t great at people, but he had come to know her well enough, and he had been through enough of his own shit to realize she was fucked up.
“I’m sorry ,” he could see her watching him from the side of her eye, “ About Luke. ”
"Thank you, ”
A stiff sign, no smiles or flourishes. Her fingers held tightly together, no looseness or flow. There was nothing he could say, no reassurance or words of clarity to make the shitty situation any better. But the air was thick, and she was upset and Daryl wanted to do something to make it all go away.
“He didn’t deserve that .”
She shook her head before looking up at him, “ There was nothing we could do, ”
She was right. They had tried the amputation, tried to stop the bleeding. Held him and whispered to him as he struggled to hold on. Shock had taken over his body, shaky and barely conscious - but they had been there. His family had been there by his side. The last faces he had seen.
None of that made this shit any easier.
“Don’t mean it doesn’t hurt .”
The tears came in a rush, fast and overflowing. Her face collapsed almost immediately, the lightness of their conversation disappearing into the dark. Her eyes, usually so bright, seemed to darken with a growing collection of tears. And Daryl wanted to pounce. Not that there was anyone to hit, no thing that he could go and destroy.
He pulled her to him instead.
It was a natural response now, something learned in the last few years of hanging around Carol and Michonne and the kids. He could still remember when he would flinch at touch, resist the feeling of someone else’s skin on his own. Sometimes he still did, bringing up memories and shit he thought he had long moved passed. It had never been like that with Connie. Holding her was the only thing he knew he could do at that moment.
He held her, soft but tight. Her much smaller body nearly disappeared in his arms. She was crying, body shaking with silent gasps and sobs. Using a hand he gently rubbed circles into the fabric of her sweater, a gentle massage of her back. Years of being with the kids had taught him how to comfort and console, make the most of himself he could in a situation where he was otherwise clueless. Connie responded by clinging to him, wrapping herself around him so tightly he could feel every curve of her body. She was hiding her face in his chest, avoiding her tears being shown to the night, dampening his shirt. There was something in how she clung to him, seeking warmth or support or comfort. A warmth that had been taken from her the moment another member of her family had been taken. Desperate for something or someone who would make sure she wouldn’t fall.
He couldn’t give her much, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try and give her everything she wanted. “I got you” whispered into the darkness of night, soft kisses pressed into curls. Unsaid understanding of knowing what it was like when your entire world collapsed around you. He’s do it for her, in a dying relic to the old world - he would forever.