"Save me, I can't face this life alone."
They didn't like relying on others because they always ended up losing, but now they needed people to survive.
They needed saving from the walls they had built around them as protection, from the walls others...
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3x13 Arrow on the Doorpost
Sweat coated the two bodies' skin. The heaving of the chests had stopped minutes ago and now it was only peaceful breathing.
On the tiny mattress, Liz had half of her body on top of Daryl as his left side pressed against the cold wall. She was running her hand over one of Daryl's scars on his abdomen, near his waist. "We should probably get dressed," she whispered hoarsely.
"Yeah," he responded, his voice huskier than it usually was.
Neither of them moved.
"You know I..." she took a breath, "I saw your scars...back at the farm." Daryl's eyes skimmed over to her and then went back to the bottom of the top bunk. She had known about them this whole time? "It was only for a moment, you had been shot and were unconscious, I didn't think you'd like me looking so I left the room."
After the silence, she continued, "I remember that I first felt sorry because no one should go through whatever made you those...then I thought it explained your behaviour more and I understood you a little better. Then I just felt angry for whoever did that to you."
"There's been moments when I was scared you would turn out to be a violent person, because of whatever happened to you...and because of how you used to act, but even then I knew there was more to you than what you showed." She shifted gently propping up on her elbows to look at him. This caused him to look back. "Then I actually got to know you better and you prove every day that you are nothing like men, or people, like that. You're a good man, Daryl."
That's why it hurt so much when he left.
"Maybe someday you'll realise how valuable you are."
And then she laid her head back on his chest caressing his skin with her hand.
Daryl contemplated her words. He didn't think he was worth much. And sure, he tried to be good but he had realised a long time ago that he would never be good enough for the rest no matter how much he tried.
That's why he treasured so much the way she treated him, how she saw him. She saw things in him he didn't see in himself.
He didn't say anything but the grip he had on her became tighter and that was answer enough. His hand ran through her back grazing the different surfaces of her skin. He had looked at her better. Without the layers of her clothes, he could see clearly other marks that no one saw on the day-to-day.
He recognised cigarette burns. That explained why she always became uncomfortable when he smoked.
Rick didn't smoke and he had seen how he was around his kids. A family man that no matter how stone-cold he turned for the rest of the world, never treated his children harshly or violently, neither mentally nor physically.
