Chapter Text
He hates it here.
Hates the tall fences, gates and houses and all that shit. Hates the way the people here look at him like he’s bad news. They don’t know anything about him. Not the first damned thing. So while the others are out making friends and fitting in, going to parties and taking on jobs, he keeps to himself, sleeps on Rick’s porch like some damn stray dog.
He hates that he can’t settle in.
Hates that he tries but he just can’t.
Hates that he can’t shake off feelings of how wrong all of this seems.
Hates that deep down he knows that this place isn’t wrong at all.
Hates that he only really hates this place because he’s here, seeing it, living it and being safe because of it.
And she isn’t.
You got to stay who you are, not who you were. Places like this, you have to put it away.
He hears everything she ever said to him and he hears it every single day. He hates it because he can’t put it away. He hates that he can’t seem to let her go. Hates that when he’s here all he can think about is how much she deserves all of this. The fresh water and food, parties and hot showers.
I'll be gone someday.
She deserved all of this.
He didn’t.
You're gonna be the last man standing. You are. You're gonna miss me so bad when I'm gone, Daryl Dixon.
And he does. He misses her so damn much.
He hates it here in Alexandria because he just knows that she would have loved it here. That she would have thrived and she would have fit right in. She would have built a life here and it would have been something to really see. He would have fought so hard for her, to keep this place safe, for her, to make sure he hunted for food, for her. Everything he would’ve done, for her. Anything she needed, he would’ve made sure he got it for her, anything she wanted, he would’ve found.
Always, for her.
She would’ve been this beacon of hope and flowers, honey and peaches and all that shit he’ll never see again. They would have loved her here.
She should be here.
Yeah, most of all, he just hates that she can never see any of this and he does every single day.
He moves now as his chest tightens and he tries to push her out of his thoughts. He grabs his crossbow that he had resting against the wall. Hates that he needs to get out of here before his chest implodes from the sheer pressure. He needs to run away and put some space between him and this place.
So he does. He’s grateful that it’s mid morning and everyone is already out attending to their own jobs or some other shit, he honestly doesn’t care.
Nobody will see him like this.
Nobody should.
When he reaches the gates, he is immensely grateful when he realises that Sasha’s on guard duty. She looks like she’s about to greet him, but she stops when she sees the look on his face. He’s grateful she doesn’t say anything, instead turning around to motion for someone to open the gate. He sees her nod at him and he nods back before he takes off into the woods.
He walks for a long time. Not the faintest idea of where he’s heading.
He doesn’t really care right now.
He just needed to get away from Alexandria, from them and from everything.
For the first time in a long while, he wishes Merle were here. Merle would know what to do. Merle would take him someplace, do some stupid shit and he’d be able to just forget about it all. He wouldn’t even give a shit about whatever group they’d end up with because nothing really matters anymore anyway. Rick, Maggie and the rest of them, they’re all okay. Alexandria is safe and they don’t need him anymore. That was all he was ever trying to do. Keep them safe, hunt, feed them. Now they’re here and they’re okay, so maybe he can try and make something of himself.
He presses ahead with a sheer determination to just make something of it so he does.
He makes out a clearing up ahead, he sees a bit of road and a building. He pushes his way past some low hanging branches, leaves brushing up against his arms and face as he steps from the woods and onto a patch of grass. He looks across the road and he sees a gas station and something inside him churns and he doubles over, vomits right there on the grass.
He takes a step away from his vomit, leaning against the guard rail and he just stares. He looks over the cars, hates that everything about this place looks so like that other place. Hates that even though he tried to get away from Alexandria to get away from his thoughts, it only seemed to lead him right back to a place that would force him to remember.
He hates that they left her in the trunk of some abandoned car in the middle of some long abandoned gas station. Hates that her body’s final resting place is a trunk of a car and not in the dirt, by a marked grave and a little white cross. The kind of burial she deserves. The kind of burial they couldn’t give her because they had too much to lose and not enough man power and sheer will to fight off a damn herd so that they could do that for her.
His chest tightens again and this time, as he slumps to the ground and sits in the middle of the road, he feels the weight of her death on his shoulders.
He thinks about the funeral home and he really did mean it when he told her he wanted to settle down there. That they would make it work even if the people who they thought hid their stash there would come looking for it. That he really genuinely believed right then that he believed in the possibility of there still being good people around even though the world had gone to shit.
That he didn’t just believe it because he knew it but that he believed because of her. Because of everything she showed him and taught him and helped him to feel like it was okay to believe too. That it didn’t make him weak or stupid, because people like them, they just had to believe and that’s alright. It’s perfectly alright.
So you do think there are still good people around. What changed your mind?
He would’ve made that funeral home so safe for them. For her. He was so sure of it. He had plans, he was going to strip down all those pews to board up all the windows. He was going to go on runs, find supplies, bring them back and stash them in their kitchen. Their kitchen. Their home.
Theirs.
He had seen his entire life there. He had seen it all. She would’ve been right there with him through it all to the very end and she would’ve been so happy. He would’ve made so sure of it.
But he had to let that stupid dog in. He had to open it, forgetting about walkers and people and all that shit. He forgot about everything. He only thought about what she wanted and what made her happy and what made her smile. Because she smiled at him and the things he said and did. He felt things. He didn’t understand it at the time, hell he still doesn’t fully understand it. But he knows that those feelings were good and for some reason all he wanted to do was to keep her smiling.
Keep her happy.
Keep her safe.
Maybe you got to keep on reminding me sometimes.
He leans forward, his head hanging over his crossed legs, feeling his tears spilling from his eyes as he cries for her, for them and everything he failed to do. He cries for her death and the fact that he will never see her again. That they’ll never get to finish that conversation. That he’ll never know about the kind of life they would’ve built there together. That he’ll never get to hear her sing or laugh. He’ll never get to see her look at him and smile at him.
She’ll never be there to remind him.
You got to stay who you are, not who you were. Places like this, you have to put it away.
It was the way she said it, that tone, that matter of fact way she saw it. She was right. He should’ve cut his losses that night. He should’ve just packed it up, buried it in the deepest parts of his mind like all the other shit he has there. He should’ve put it away. He should’ve let it go. He should’ve never depended on the idea of them and all the possibilities that he didn’t see then but now knows.
But he can’t pack it away. He can’t let it go. He won’t. There was something promising in the way she had looked at him from down the hall at Grady’s. The way her eyes had narrowed. She was genuinely happy to see him but she had something to finish before she could go to him.
What he wouldn’t give to have just held her one last time. Not dead, but alive, breathing and in his arms. He’d give the world.
He’d give his life.
He would do anything to just finish that conversation. He wanted to know if she knew. If she even realised that he only believed in faith and hope and all that bullshit because of her.
What changed your mind?
But the splatter of her blood on his face is the very last thing he remembers of her. The feel of her entire life just a splattered mess all over him. Every last drop of it on his skin, seeping into his pores so it could become fused to his very being so that it could remind him over and over again of everything he failed to do for her.
He breaks.
He’s breaking, shattering and falling apart.
He can’t remember her like that.
He tries to cling onto the sound of her voice. He’s slowly forgetting. It’s slowly fading away in his memories. He replays everything she ever said to him and something inside him churns.
No. You can't depend on anybody for anything, right?
He wipes away his tears with the back of his sleeve. He sniffles and he’s a dumb son of a bitch and he’s alone and he’s here crying in the middle of this stupid street. His tears dry up after some time and he’s just resting, elbows at either knee and head resting on his hands. He’s staring at the stupid gas station and he’s an stupid son of a bitch because he just can’t let her go.
Why he obsesses over the memory of her and why her death means more to him than any of the others they’ve lost. Why does she matter so much? Why is he here falling apart over and over and over again?
Why does he just need her so damn much?
Why can’t he let her go?
He drops his hands, digs his elbows deeper into his knees before he pushes himself up and grabs his crossbow as he stands. Maybe, he thinks, tomorrow he’ll talk to Rick and he’ll leave. He knows her body is in the trunk of a dingy car in the middle of some gas station on the outskirts of Georgia. He knows because he put her there. Maybe he can't let her go and he can’t put it away because the idea of that being the place where she rests forever is just wrong. Maybe it's her way of trying to help him realise this.
Maybe he’ll go there and give her the proper burial she deserves.
Then after that, after he buries her and lays her knife on her grave and says some soft words, maybe he’ll find a cabin close by and settle in there for the rest of his life. Visiting her grave some days and just living on the others. He’ll make a life there in that cabin like the life he thought they could’ve had in that funeral home.
Yeah, he thinks, his mind made up as he starts to feel a little bit better with that plan in mind. Maybe after all of that he can rest a little easier and maybe then, he can finally put it away.
He likes the idea of being able to visit her grave whenever he wants.
Maybe he might even venture further and find her farm, maybe even the prison too. He’d find some of her things that haven’t been looted yet so he can put them on her grave. He likes to think that she would like that so he thinks he’ll start to pull himself together because he really, really liked this plan. It’s a plan that he actually can get on board with. It’s better than moping around here anyway.
With a renewed sense of hope, he takes a step toward the gas station and then another and another and he’s right at the shattered doors. It’s dark inside so he slams a hand on the frame, he waits and when he hears nothing he steps in. The shelves are mostly empty, but there’s a few candy bars that he grabs.
He hears someone stepping on the glass outside and he pauses, just knelt behind a shelf he looks around the corner and tries to find some bits of glass left on the fridge doors to catch the reflection. He only sees someone's leg and a boot.
“Daryl?”
The voice is familiar though so he stands, tall enough that his head pops up from above the shelf he’s at and he sees Aaron standing at the entrance.
“The fuck y’doin’ here?” he asks, his tone a little bit harsher than he wanted it to be. But he stands by it all the same because he’s still in a shitty mood and he really didn’t need the interruption.
Aaron holds his hands up as if to feign defence. “Sorry,” Aaron apologises, “Eric saw you leaving in a hurry and you looked upset. Eric said I better follow you, so I did. I can go back, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
He doesn’t know what to say, his hands hovering now on the shelf in front of him and he shifts uncomfortably. He looks away, looks around the scattered mess and he feels sadder for some reason.
“Don’t gotta go,” he mutters and spares a glance at Aaron, “‘s just… Just needed t’clear my head, I’m alright.”
It’s not that he doesn’t like Aaron. Aaron and Eric have been nice to him, have tried to help him integrate and fit in. It’s only for that reason that he isn’t telling the man to leave him alone.
Aaron nods and looks around too after a moment, “Anything worthwhile to loot?”
He shakes his head, “Place been looted too many times. Got a few candy bars though, was gonna give ‘em to Carl.”
Aaron smiles as if that was exactly what he thought Daryl was going to say.
They leave shortly after checking the backrooms of the gas station. There’s a blanket that Aaron finds stashed away just behind a desk but nothing much else worthwhile. He sees a postcard of Georgia though on a random shelf as they’re walking back out and he grabs it, stuffs it in his back pocket and follows Aaron out.
It’s a little after noon, he estimates, as they walk through the woods back toward Alexandria. Aaron’s somewhere behind him, quiet and he appreciates it. But he also feels like he owes the man some kinda explanation. He looks back, uncomfortably but certain that he wants to do this and he sees Aaron look at him.
“I know ya’ll think that I hate Alexandria,” he says, feeling uncomfortable but trying his damndest to pull himself together.
He doesn’t care that they’ve got jobs and parties and dinners, wine and all that shit from the old world. He doesn’t care that their leader is a congresswoman with a bunch of people policing the streets like everything outside those fences didn’t exist. He doesn’t care that there are old people and babies, children and women and men living there as if the dead didn’t start walking.
He just doesn’t care for any of it because she’s not there.
“I know the others think you do, but Eric and I don’t think that,” Aaron tells him and he sees the honesty in the man’s eyes.
And something in him wants to tell Aaron. Something inside his soul needs to say it. Needs to hear it from his own lips.
“‘S just…” he starts but trails off. He looks ahead as he struggles with this inner turmoil. He doesn’t know where to begin or how to even explain it in a way that makes sense. Saying it would mean that he can never take it back and it would mean that he’s sharing it with someone else.
“Did you lose someone close?” Aaron asks.
He doesn’t know where to begin to even answer that. What would Aaron think?
What would Rick and god forbid, Maggie, what would she think? They’d think he was some creep taking advantage of her when they were out together. She’s young and he’s older. There was only one obvious conclusion they would jump to. Even though they never did anything and he never did nothing. He didn’t even realise what the fuck he was feeling at the time. He didn’t even know. They didn’t even do anything.
But that’s what everyone would see. They’d kick him out and he wouldn’t blame them.
Rick would never look at him again.
Maggie would never forgive him. Hell, she’d probably want to kill him and he’d happily let her.
“Yeah,” he says and feels strangely better for admitting it. Like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders
“Did she know?” Aaron asks.
They’ve stopped now and they’re just standing in the middle of the woods, his back to Aaron and the man’s eyes burning a hole in the back of his head. He feels his chest caving in, feels his heart breaking and he wants the ground to swallow him up.
“Know what?” he mutters angrily and turns his head very slightly but enough to see Aaron looking at him through his fallen hair.
“That you loved her,” Aaron asks gently.
It takes him by surprise and something inside him twists painfully. He throws a hand out to the tree that’s nearest to him, leaning onto it and staring at the dirt by his feet. The reminder of her death comes barreling down on him and the force of it knocks all of the wind out of him. He breathes deeply, trying to get everything in control. Aaron’s watching him fall apart and that’s the last damned thing he needed today.
He musters as much strength as he can to push himself from the tree. He throws a look over at Aaron.
“You don’t know nothin’,” he spits, his tone full of venom as he takes off into the woods.
He doesn’t walk back to Alexandria, he doesn’t walk anywhere, he just walks away.
He takes off quickly and he isn’t walking towards Alexandria. He just needs to be alone. He leaves Aaron standing there and he hopes to hell he doesn’t follow.
He wants to be alone again.
He just wants her to be here.
************
Many hours later, he sulks up to the gates of Alexandria.
He knows Carol’s on watch duty tonight. So when he’s finally standing under the spotlight just before the gate, he doesn’t have to say anything about announcing himself or being let in. The gate just rolls open slowly after a moment and when he walks in, Carol’s standing there looking at him curiously. He gives her a nod though and tries to pass it off as another one of his Daryl sort of things.
“‘S a bit of a late hunting trip,” Carol says in passing as he starts to walk.
“Tracked a deer for hours,” he shrugs it off a lie and briefly looks at her and adds, “Just couldn’t bag it I guess.”
He knows that she has seen through him. She’s concerned.
He’s not.
“Is everything okay?” Carol asks and she stretches a tentative hand to touch his forearm.
He nods, “Yeah.”
“Aaron said you took off,” Carol tells him.
“Yeah,” he agrees and adds, “Aaron talks t’much. I’m just fine.”
He walks back to Rick’s place and quietly steps up onto the patio. It’s dark inside and he figures everyone’s long gone to bed. He walks to the quietest and darkest part of the patio round by the side and he slides down. He stretches out one leg and leaves the other bent. His crossbow now leaning against the side of the house next to him.
He lets out a long and steady sigh. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the postcard he found at the gas station earlier.
In bold cursive writing it says, ‘Welcome to’ and in big bubble writing, ‘Virginia’. There’s some landmarks on it, some trees, mostly trees and some flowers. It’s a little pretty, he thinks, pleasant and it helps him to feel a little bit better. He tucks it away, but this time in his shirt pocket the one that’s just over his heart. He thinks to find a pen tomorrow and maybe write something on it.
Some shit like, To Beth, Daryl.
But in the silence of the night and the peace of not having anybody looking at him, he thinks about what Aaron said.
Did she know?
That you loved her?
He imagines the words written on the postcard, To Beth, with love, Daryl.
He feels his heart stutter, feels his stomach tighten and his soul, flicker.
Maybe this is what it was all about.
Maybe that’s why he can’t let her go. Maybe because they never finished that conversation and maybe it was then when he started to feel something more for her. Something beyond them just trying to survive.
Maybe he loves her and maybe that’s why he can’t seem to let her go.
Maybe that’s why her death hits him harder than it did every other person they’ve lost.
Because for a little while when it was just the two of them in that funeral, maybe a part of him could see everything they could’ve become for each other there. Maybe that’s why he felt like he wanted to stay there.
Yeah, he thinks more clearly now, To Beth, with love, Daryl, seems more fitting in his mind.
He thinks about leaving for the longest time that night and when he falls asleep, he’s still thinking about it.
About her.