𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐥《 𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘭 𝘋𝘪𝘹𝘰𝘯 》

s e v e n// T H E L A S T T I M E

This is the last time I'm asking you why
You break my heart in the blink of an eye

You'd be surprised at how fast time flies, especially at times when you're busy. Time used to fly by when I was at work. A full week passed by and I would barely notice it. I'd be exhausted and drop dead on the couch but... five full days had gone by like the slightest breeze of wind and I hadn't noticed it.
Now? We were numbly fighting the dead to stay alive and at the end, it still felt like we were dead.
Funny, isn't it?

"No." Rick said sharply.
"What do you mean 'no'?" Michonne countered back.
"I mean no."
"You're not even on the council." She snarled at him.
"Michonne." Smith came to scold. "Rick deserves to know about this as well as having a stand on it, either he is a part of the council or not."
"Why? Cause you both share the same opinion, right?"
She was starting to get slightly heated and that could be seen in her eyes that stood wide open and still and on her voice that came out fast and sharp like an arrow.
Smith pursed her lips. It was true... And then Daryl came in to the rescue.
"We said we were done with them month-long runs. It ain't gonna do no good whatsoever to the group or ourselves."
"Except if we find him."
"Macon is seventy miles away." Smith reasoned.
"It's worth a shot."
"Just like Monroe was? Marietta, East Point, Griffin?"
There was a slight pause before Daryl spoke.
"Seventy miles of walkers. You might run into a few unneighbourly types... Is it?"
"You don't understand--"
"I think we do, Michonne. You just don't seem to wanna see it."

"Do you think it was too much?" Smith questioned Daryl as they walked the corridors, making their way out of the council's conference room, the library.
"Nah." He took a pause in between words, like he always did. "I don't. And you shouldn't either."

Starry night skies go by. Moons pass. Not slowly, not swiftly. They just pass.
Nights in the tower pass. Hours of sitting on the floor with her head on his shoulder passed.
Then days passed. Suns went up and went down. Not slowly, not swiftly. 
Songs passed. Conversations passed. Runs passed. 
Time was beginning to feel less threatening. 
And so another song passed. Another melodic poem accompanied by a wooden artwork that projected symphonic sounds. 
Every aspect of everything was odd if you thought about it hard enough. Everything is not what it seems. Everything is what you want it to be. Afterall, you're the perceiver, you have the eyes.

"God speed your love... to me" Nova dragged her words which danced around the silent, echoey room in melody. Unchained melody.
The last song.
Cheering, applause and whistles followed her last note-- just like in a real crowd-- especially from the elderly people. The real Elvis Presley fans. She thanked everybody twice and stood up, leaving the red guitar by the corner.
"You okay?" She questioned in a hushed tone as she notice the intense frown on the Dixon's eyes just a second after he arrived at the common room- as they liked to call it.
"M'fine." He snapped.
"Wow. Alright." She held her hands up in surrender and he stormed out just as fast as he had come in and she didn't bother to go after him, leaving him to his own thoughts.

A while later and he came back. Smith sat in her bed, up the stairs on the cellblock, a book in her hands. The same one she had had in her room for over three months. The one she had read over four times.
She knew he had gotten back by the foot pattern that echoed the block. She thought he might go up and talk to her. Not apologise, because she knew Daryl, and as he was, he wouldn't say sorry unless he really felt like it was necessary to keep the relationship from falling into abyss. She just thought he would come in and chat or ask her to keep company on a run or dinner.
But that wasn't quite the outcome. 
He had his destination planted on his mind and he stuck with it, through and through. 
Smith contemplated her options. Should she get up and check on him or stay in her bed and stay peaceful?
Peace never lasts forever, she reminded herself. Sooner or later it'll end, so why delay it?
She sighed and closed the book firmly, pushing to stand up out of the bed.
Her index finger lightly touched the bars of the open door in the form of a knock-- you didn't need much force for the metal to produce sound. 
"What?" He said after short silence. 
It didn't sound like the snap from before but it wasn't a soft tone either.
"Do you mind?" She pointed towards the inside of his cell?
He gave it a quick look but not getting up from his bed.
"Why ask if you're already in?" That sounded more like the snap.
She stepped only once in front to be fully inside the cell and searched for words.
 "Did something happen?"
"Nothing happen, fuck you on about?"
"Jesus, Daryl, will you relax?"
He shot to sat up and Smith found herself bracing for repetitions of the past.
"Don't tell me to fucking relax!" He pointed his accusing finger towards her face.
"Yeah. You definitely need to relax. You know this'll lead nowhere, why can't you just tell me what happened instead of shouting around? I can see it in your face. I saw it before, it might be nothing, it might be everything but just talk to me, dammit."
Daryl inhaled a sharp breath and she immediatly thought oh no. 
"It ain't none of ya damn fucking business." He stepped closer to her and used his old threatening tone, hushed but clear. "Not every single thing is about you, Smith. Get over it. And don't you come sneaking around with your soap opera speeches no more. Sick and tired of 'em."
Her eyebrows had never been raised so high. She couldn't believe the words she was hearing. How could Daryl, the Daryl she knew taken a full 180?
"Alright." She said under her breath and closed the door behind her as if it would keep the noise in. 
"Don't. Don't fucking start with'your sentimental bullshit! Get the fuck out."
"Listen to me, pretty boy. You gotta drop that fucking nerve of yours, cause if something actually happened or if you're just hormonal, it is not my fault. It is not a fucking excuse for you to take it out on me. Cause you know damn well this ain't like it was before!" She purposely dragged the 'ain't', a word she never used to match his own speech and in a way contradict it. " We're not gonna do this for the eight hundredth time. There was a last time and it will continue being the last time." She firmed her ground and Daryl seemed to take it in. Before she started talking again. "Daryl, if you just--"
"Fucking go! Already said I didn't wanna hear no more of ya bullshit!"
"Don't fucking yell at me!" She shouted just the same and that silenced him. "Jesus, Daryl. Tell me why it's always the same fucking short story. Huh? You yell at me with no apparent reason, don't talk to me for days then we slowly go back, no apologies and just sit and wait for everything to happen again? I've had enough of that for thirty fucking years! And I'm sure you know pretty well what it is too. If we've both been through it, why do we have to submit each other to it? I can't do this, Daryl. I don't know how you can."
A breath escaped his lips. What could've been mistaken for a shaky crying breath, was actually revealed to be but a bitter laugh.
"You don't know the first thing 'bout me." He whispered and slowly brought his head up. "You never did and ya never will. No matter how much ya lie to yourself."
She shook her head with her eyes narrowed. 
"You really don't have anything else to say? Is it always the same fucking issue? 'You don't know me' 'You don't understand' 'We ain't the same'" She paced around the room, exaggerating the physical movements to illustrate her sarcastic tone mimicking the redneck. "Jesus. Don't you get tired?"
"Yeah. I sure as fuck do."
This time she emitted the sound of the bitter laugh. "Don't even with your indirect speeches."
"Why? It ain't a lie. We ain't the same, we ain't never been. You just forced us to be. Dragged me 'round, showing off like a damn puppy."
"What the fuck are you on about? Are you actually saying this is all because of me? All this-- because of me?"
He stayed silent so she proceeded. "Dragged you around? Daryl--" Now it was actually starting to hit her where it hurt. Was she really that much of an imposter that had tricked herself into thinking this relationship was something? "Is that really how you feel?"
"That's how it is."
"Don't. Please don't. You know that's not true." Smith paused before a quick realisation. "Did your brother say something to you?"
And that triggered it as fast as the actual trigger of a weapon. 
"Don't you fucking bring my brother into this!" He came closer again, yelling in her face.
"That was it, right? What the fuck did he say?"
"Nothing that fucking concerns you."
"Oh-oh-oh." She pulled her sleeves up. "Don't you lie to me, Dixon. If this is as ugly as it's looking, I gotta know the fucking reason for it."
"You ain't gotta know nothing."
"Oh my god." She brushed her face heavily. "Daryl--"
"Out."
"Don't--"
"Get the fuck out." He stepped closer to her one last time, as he felt the bare skin of her nose on his own, the air out of his nostrils making its way down to her lips. I think I've seen this film before.
He wouldn't threaten her but that was his silent, physical choice of a warning.
"I hope you remember what you're saying, Dixon."