Work Text:
Do whatever you need to get your heads on straight. This is gonna be the fight of our lives.
Earl’s words rang through your ears as you loaded your quiver with arrows. It was still light out; sun beating down on your skin and making the vertigo worse. You’d been in this situation before, many times in fact, but it never got easier. Knowing that tonight you might die because someone wanted to get their knuckles bloody. The fear that someone you cared about might die instead.
You swallowed hard, lifting your head to watch the people around you. It was quiet, an uneasy contrast to the hurried movements. No one had the words for this, this limbo period where you all awaited trial. Tonight the Whisperers would attack, and Hilltop would fall. You all knew it. There weren’t enough fighters to hold it together. Now it was just a question of who would fall with it.
From the corner of your vision, you saw him. You held in a breath, heart skipping a beat. Of course, the end of the world had come and gone for you many times, but you’d never been alone. He had always been beside you, from start to finish. Through good and bad. Until bad had gotten so bad he’d left, and the good had gotten so good he’d been too afraid to return.
Daryl met your gaze then, walking over to you as you straightened up to greet him.
“Hey. You ready for this?”
He nodded, though you saw the tension in his shoulders. It was the same posture he’d had at the prison when the Governor attacked, and Alexandria when Negan rolled up to the gates.
“Gotta make sure the kids are alright. Imma ask Ezekiel for help with that, but can ya also watch out for ‘em? In case I don’t…”
You nodded, grasping his meaning. He didn’t think he was going to survive tonight. This man, who appeared so fearless to everyone else, so confident in his abilities, was preparing to die. You’d only seen him like this once before, and the memory fought its way to the surface. You pushed it down, focusing on the man in front of you now versus that man you used to know.
“Yeah. I can do that.”
You didn’t know what else to say. If you die, how could anyone else hope to live? What happens if I die, too? We both know we’re willing to. But this was Daryl, who knew you better than anyone. He knew exactly what you were thinking.
“Hey, s’gonna be alrigh’.”
Your tight-lipped smile said everything. He wasn’t fooling anyone, especially not you. He scratched at the back of his neck, looking around at the others. You followed his gaze. They all had their heads down, building and sharpening weapons, treating old injuries, whatever they could do to keep their minds busy. God, how you wanted to hand them all a drink and say, Here, take the load off. The thought sparked an idea.
“Do you want to have a drink with me?”
Daryl turned sharply, your words registering. You sent him a pleading look, needing him to say yes. To share one last moment with you before the end. To pretend everything was normal, the way things used to be. By the way his face softened, you knew he needed it too. He nodded, reaching a hand for yours. You sucked in a sharp breath, the action so foreign yet familiar at the same time. For the first time in years, you placed your hand in his, and neither of you pulled away.
The trailer was warmer with him on your couch. It had been awhile since you’d had company. Since before the Whisperers, you were sure. Back when things were settled, peaceful. The calm before and after the storms. You remembered the day you moved in, how exhausted you were after a long journey from Alexandria. How depleted you felt after gathering your belongings, ones that used to not be just yours, and taking them as far away from home as possible. It wasn’t home anymore, anyway.
Tara had helped you unpack, an uneasy smile on her face as she pulled out your belongings. She knew what you were doing, why you were doing it. She knew how badly you were hurting because of it.
Seeing Daryl on your couch now, you also remembered the last time he sat there. A year after you’d moved to Hilltop, when he’d come riding in on his motorcycle in a huff, demanding to know why you’d left without a word.
“Why did you?”
Your words left him speechless, grasping for a response. In that moment, you both knew it was over. All the years together, all the pains and comforts and connection, had scattered away the moment you both ran. Him to find Rick, a few months turning into a year without word, and you to find a new life, away from your shared home and all its memories. It was over, and you both had to face it now.
That was four years ago, and the man in front of you was not that same man. You knew it because you’d changed, too. But then he turned those beautiful eyes to you and it was easy to pretend time had stood still. Like you still meant everything to each other. Like he was still your lifeline, and you his.
You sat down, handing him a drink. He thanked you quietly, taking a large gulp of the old wine you’d found in the mansion. You were both silent, focusing on your drinks until they were empty. When the silence grew too painful, you spoke up.
“How bad are our odds, really?”
He grunted, resting his glass on the table with a clink. You followed his actions, setting the glass down and leaning further into the couch to face him. He ran a hand down his face, which had taken on a red tint from the alcohol. Your own vision started to blur while he thought, the pause growing uncomfortably long as you shifted in your seat. Finally, he sighed.
“Ain’t gonna lie to ya. They ain’t good.”
You nodded. It was the answer you expected, though that didn’t make it any easier to hear. Still, a gnawing thought sat in the back of your mind.
“We’ve been here before and we made it. You don’t think we can do it again?”
“Those were different. We had more people, more fighters. Less to lose.”
You considered his words, rolling them over in your head as the meaning settled. Less to lose? I’ve always had something big to lose. I thought you did, too.
“We’ve always had something to lose. Our people, each other. This isn’t different.”
Each other seemed to hit him like a brick wall, your words surfacing a truth he’d rather keep buried. But you knew him, and you remembered what he’d said all those times before. That night at the prison, when he’d held you close…
It was right after the loss of his brother. Merle had been an asshole, to be sure, but he was still the only family Daryl had. The person who’d raised him, taught him everything he thought to be true, kept him alive. And now he was gone, and Daryl was lost.
The two of you were friends, life on the road forging a bond that could only be made through shared experiences. Late nights keeping watch when neither of you could sleep. Him teaching you to hunt and to fight after much begging. Inside jokes that you both found funny but no one else understood. You were just friends, though both of your feelings had grown deeper without the other’s knowledge.
That night was dark, and cold, and fearful. You were all prepared for the Governor’s attack, the news of Merle’s death sending everyone into a panicked frenzy at what would happen next. But while everyone else was worried for tomorrow, you only had eyes for Daryl, whose red eyes and slumped shoulders gave away his pain.
“Can I talk to you?”
Daryl nodded, following you to your cell. Closing the door and lowering the curtain behind you, you pulled the stoic man into a hug. He stiffened at first, but within a few moments he was leaning into you, choked sobs wracking through his body. You held him close, running a hand through his hair and letting him cry. You didn’t know what it felt like to lose a sibling, but you knew he’d be shouldering the weight for a long time. It felt natural to kneel beneath it, raising your hands to keep it from crushing him.
When his cries faded into shaky breaths, you lifted his head from your shoulders. Cupping his cheeks in your hands, you stared into his swollen eyes. He looked so broken in that moment, you knew you’d do anything to keep him from looking that way again.
“Everyone here cares about you. We’re here for you, no matter what,” you said, eyes never leaving his. “This hurts, I know it does. But you will be okay. You need to be, for him.”
He didn’t say anything, just kept looking at you with those intense hunter’s eyes you’d grown to love. Your thumb caressed his cheek and he leaned in, the weight on your palm reassuring. When he did speak, his voice was scratchy.
“Why did he do that? Why’d he get himself killed for us? He ain’t never done nothin’ like that his whole life.”
Your chest fell, his desperation creeping out in the questions. His brother’s actions confused him, and that made the outcome so much harder to accept.
“He cared about you. You inspired him to be a better man. He wanted you to live, no matter the cost to him. I understand that.”
Daryl pulled away from you, just slightly.
“Don’t see why anyone’d give their life for me. I ain’t special.”
His eyes found the floor, shame overtaking his features. He knew what you’d said was true, but he didn’t want to believe it. Didn’t want to blame himself for his brother’s death. You stepped forward again, lifting his chin to face you.
“You are. And like I said, everyone here cares about you. We’d all give our lives for you, and we know you’d do the same for us. That’s just how it works.”
He studied you, gaze drifting from your eyes to your lips and back. It was impossible to look away, a light beam trapping you and sucking you in. You leaned in closer, only inches away from him now.
“I would.”
Your brows furrowed, not understanding.
“Would what?”
“Die. For you.”
His eyes glistened with tears again and you felt your own bottom lip quivering.
“Daryl, I-”
“I’m not losin’ anyone else. Especially not you. Ya understand?”
His tone was so firm you felt yourself nodding. One look between you and a mutual agreement was made: you would both die before losing the other. It was impossible to think otherwise.
After the Governor’s attack, when everyone was still alive and emotions were high, Daryl kissed you. In the moment, all you knew was you loved him, and you had a feeling he loved you back.
Now, with those memories tainted by his leaving, you felt yourself wondering what that kiss really meant to the two of you.
“Was any of it real? Or did we both just need someone?”
Daryl startled at your words, your blood running cold as soon as they left your mouth. They’d been simmering for a while, the questions, and if tonight was your last, you needed to know the truth. Even if the pain in his eyes was so visceral you wished you could take them back.
You let them sit between you, the words and all the memories they presented. It felt real; the kisses, the arguments, the tears, all of it. But maybe it was just a cruel joke, about as real as the years between Rick’s death and the Whisperers. A dream that couldn’t last.
It was Alexandria all over again. The promise of a new life, of starting over and making things better, ripped away as soon as you felt comfortable. Because even when things were easy, there was always the looming threat of another fight. Another death. Another argument about these threats.
The day before the outpost massacre, the two of you had had it out. Life had been peaceful, happy even, since the walker herd attacked Alexandria. A few months was all you needed to settle in and enjoy it. You wanted to find the person you’d lost at the prison, and you finally had. Daryl seemed to feel better, too, getting to know the other Alexandrians and loosening up to the routine. Days were busy, nights were reserved for the two of you. Your glass heart was repairing.
So of course something had to come along and shatter it.
“How could we even consider doing this? After everything we’ve been through, all we’ve lost, we’re just going to start another war? Keep killing people?”
“We’re doin’ this so we don’t lose more people. These Saviors, ya think they’re not gonna find us eventually? We gotta take ‘em out before they ride up to our gates and do it to us. Thought you would understand that.”
You scoffed at his words, walking away from him to your shared kitchen. He followed close behind, unable to leave well enough alone.
“Here’s what I understand, Daryl. You’re putting yourself at risk, again, doing something you know is wrong, again, and all in the name of ‘keeping us safe’ again. When are you going to accept that you just can’t walk away from a fight?”
“I’m doin’ this for you! To keep you alive! If there was another way, I’d take it, but there ain’t. This is happenin’ whether ya like it or not.”
Silence fell between you, piercing each other with the fire in your eyes. You’d always been well-matched, in your humor and your fury as well. His hands gripped the countertop, leaning over it with a heaving chest. Your arms remained crossed over your chest. A stand-off you knew all too well.
After a minute, his eyes softened. His grip loosened, his body weight shifting backwards. His voice was low, gentle when he spoke.
“I can’t lose you. Ya know I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you alive. This is what I gotta do.”
You felt your own resolve crumbling, the defeated look on his face making it easy to believe him. You uncrossed your arms, stepping closer. His gaze met yours just before you pulled him in, a sigh of relief escaping his lips as he buried his head into your shoulder.
“I can’t lose you, either. That’s why I’m arguing. You know that, right?”
He raised his head and nodded, lifting a hand to caress your hair.
“I know. And you ain’t gonna lose me. Not today. Not tomorrow. I need ya. I’ll always come back to ya.”
His words from that day were echoing now. I need ya. I’ll always come back to ya. How could they be so hard to believe when he was sitting right in front of you? He had come back, just as he’d said. But not in the ways you wanted.
“I needed you.”
He mumbled it like a secret, like it wasn’t the most honest thing he’d said in his life. Metal filled your tastebuds, a lump in your throat growing. The pressure of it all was expanding until you thought your head would explode. You looked at everything but him. The walls were white. I needed you. The throw pillows on the couch were blue with white flecks. I needed you. The wine on the counter was still half-full. I needed you. I needed you. I needed you.
“Then why did you leave me?”
Shameful tears poured down your cheeks as you tried to brush them away. He wouldn’t meet your eyes. The distance between you now was greater than it’d been when he was in the woods. At least then you had the soft memories in front of you and not the painful picture itself. Timidly, Daryl raised his eyes to meet yours.
“I’m sorry.”
You looked at him then, really looked at him. Your face was still wet with tears but you didn’t care anymore. I’m sorry, he said. It was the first time he’d said it. The first time he’d apologized for leaving. For shattering your heart. For breaking you into a million pieces. And despite thinking you were ready for it, wanting it for so long, you weren’t, and you didn’t. How could you be mad when he was looking at you like that?
He’d changed, and the realization was hitting you in waves. The day he arrived at Hilltop with Carol and Henry, the day the life of peace you’d worked so hard to build the past four years would end, you’d noticed the changes in him. The new scar over his eye, the sturdiness in his posture, the way he didn’t hesitate to hug his friends…and of course, Dog.
But now, you realized just how much time had really changed him. Not his appearance, or his surface, but his actions, his feelings. He was a far cry from the man you met at the quarry, who had to be approached like a wild animal. And from the man at the prison, who held everyone at arm’s reach. Even the man in Alexandria, who fought every fight he could in fear of losing everything he’d already fought for. The startling new man a few months ago, who’d threatened a young girl in a cell. This was not that man, though the others were still real.
He cleared his throat, head hung low as he interpreted your silence. “Ya don’t have to say nothin’. Just wanted you to know. Ya got every right to be mad still.”
Thoughts were tumbling around your head, rolling over and over so quickly you assumed the words were written across your face. But of course, this was Daryl, and while he knew how to read you like an open book, he didn’t always believe the words. So you spoke.
“I’m not angry with you. I was, but…” you trailed off, searching. His eyes shot up to yours and you found yourself trapped in them, their surface reflecting what you wanted to say back to you like cue cards. “Some people are easy to stay mad at. Some are impossible. I forgave you a long time ago, Daryl, it just took me a while to realize it.”
You’d forgiven him the moment you laid eyes on him again. After four years of silence, seeing him again was like seeing a mirage in the desert. No one was gone until they were dead, and you hadn’t realized how tightly you held onto that belief until he was standing in front of you. Of course you’d forgiven him. He was alive. He’d come back to you. Even if it wasn’t for you.
You thought about it again, and no, you’d forgiven him even before then. You’d forgiven him at dinner one night, when Alden told a joke so hilarious you turned to see Daryl’s smile. He wasn’t there, of course. You were through and he was God knows where. But just that moment, that small second where you forgot it all and reached for him, was enough to spark your heart. To remind you you were alive. He did that, even from a hundred miles away. He was always the reason. So how could you be angry with him?
His hand was in yours again, and you realized you were the one reaching for him. He hesitated before tightening his grip, securing your hands together in a firm knot of strength. It was comforting, but you’d always been greedy, especially with him. You scooted closer and rested a head on his shoulder, needing him closer. He carefully wrapped an arm around you, erasing any space between your bodies. You felt the movement of his chest when he breathed, felt your own heart beating in time with his. This was timeless. This was right.
“Can we just pretend for a while? That nothing changed?”
You barely heard your own question, but he nodded against you. Lazy smiles, warm hands, relieved kisses, it all came back to you. This time, with the promise of pretend, you let them wash over and consume you. Beside you, Daryl’s eyes were glossed over as he relived his own memories. Breaking the long silence, his sharp intake of breath sounded painful.
“I ain’t ready to say goodbye,” he said, voice barely a whisper. “Said goodbye to ya once already. I don’t wanna say it again.”
You thought of the battle ahead, growing closer with the darkening sky behind you. This time, fear didn’t overtake you. It was replaced by that memory of the prison, the night you and Daryl had been sure you’d both die fighting the Governor. The night before the Savior outpost, when you’d both known you’d die for each other without hesitation. How death had followed the two of you for a decade, yet here you sat, pressed against each other, alive.
And you knew then that this wasn’t the end. The world may be ending tonight, but your story wasn’t.
“Then don’t say goodbye,” you said. “Just hold me until it’s time.”