❝tragic backstories and using the word "dude" romantically, that pretty much summed up carl grimes and elle coleman❞
[carl grimes x oc]
[seasons 3-11]
[not completed]
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❖
Never had Elle had to see someone she loved as a walker. She had gotten lucky. It was the only thing worse than having to watch someone you love die. Seeing them but it not really being them. Someone who just minutes ago would do anything to keep you safe now using their best efforts to kill you.
And then you had to watch them die all over again.
Patrick was too good for the world they were now in. He would choose to play with legos rather than clean weapons. He would volunteer to referee and commentate soccer because he didn't want to make one of the teams have more people because that would be unfair, and life was already unfair enough.
Patrick had even gone to such lengths to pester every single person in the prison just to find supplies to make Elle a stress ball for nights she couldn't sleep. He hadn't experienced the cruelties of the world, he didn't deserve what happened to him.
She stared into the eyes of what used to be her friend, now just a lifeless corpse that wanted to sink its teeth into her flesh.
"I'm sorry," she whispered as she held her gun up with shaky hands. She lined up the shot, squeezed her eyes shut, and pulled the trigger. She heard his body collapse to the floor, but she did not open her eyes.
She didn't even need to see who lowered her gun and picked her up, there was only one person it could be, and she recognized the comforting arms that wrapped around, and there was only one person she wrapped onto like a koala.
Daryl brought her outside the prison and set her against the wall.
"Why would you come in there?" he asked her. "I told you to stay at the fence."
"I knew Patrick was in D," she whispered. "I couldn't leave him."
Daryl sighed and knelt down so he could set his hands on her shoulder. "Don't beat yourself up, Spitfire. There's nothing you could've done. We checked Patrick, he had no bite marks, just blood by his eyes. Hershel thinks it's some sorta infection."
"What?" her voice broke.
"Ya couldn't have saved him."
Her head fell between her knees and she composed herself. She couldn't have saved him. She couldn't have saved him. She couldn't have saved him.
"I think I really need a hug."
And so they sat there, Elle wrapped in Daryl's fatherly embrace until she calmed down. Her mind was moving at a million miles per minute. She hadn't even shot her gun since before she was kidnapped, she was surprised it still even worked.
In an odd way, it seemed that a weight of anxiety fled from her. While she wanted her utopia to last forever, she knew it couldn't, she had been waiting for the day for it to start crumbling down, now she didn't have to worry anymore for it had happen.
