Red ~ TWD (Daryl Dixon)

If Tomorrow Never Comes

The drive back to Alexandria was spent in total silence. I kept my eyes glued on the horizon, my spine ramrod straight, my blood-stained hands in my lap. Merle was in the backseat, cradling the lifeless body of his wife in his arms. He hadn't said a single word since he found her inside the store, dead. He hadn't screamed, he didn't yell, and he had yet to cry. It was obvious a part of him died with the love of his life. I could see it in the way his shoulders slumped, and how he locked away every emotion in the recessed of his shattered heart. It didn't feel right to cry, to mourn, until he did so instead I kept vigil in the front seat as we slowly made our way back.

The relief that normally accompanied rolling through the massive iron gates protecting Alexandria was absent today. Instead, there was only apprehension and a heavy dose of guilt that threatened to swallow me. It may not have been "my fault" Francine was dead, but she'd died saving my life. In my mind, that made it my responsibility. The heartache, the torture my brother-in-law was feeling was a direct result of that. I wouldn't be surprised if he hated me because truthfully, I hated myself.

Deadpool killed the engine, the three of us watching the group descend on the vehicle, Daryl and Rick at the head of the group. With a heavy sigh I swung my door open, keeping my head low as I walked to the front of the truck. I heard rather than saw their footsteps falter, knew they'd seen the blood coating my hands and clothes.

"Red?" Daryl sounded frantic so I swallowed around the lump in my throat and found the courage I didn't possess to look him in the eyes.

"It's not mine."

Merle grunted behind me, adjusting Francine's body in his arms. Tara gasped, hands covering her mouth. Gabby's eyes widened, his hand drifting to the cross around his neck. Apocalypse Barbie dropped her eyes to the ground, and on and on it went. The shock, the despair, the questions.

Merle acknowledged none of it. With this head held high he carried his wife past the crowd whose murmurs were growing louder by the second. Everyone wanted to know what happened, what went wrong?

Daryl glanced at me, eyes searching for permission he didn't need but I granted nonetheless. With a quick nod of my head he turned on his heel, following his brother, Rick close behind. Deadpool reached out and grabbed my hand, squeezing hard before following the solemn processional.

One by one everyone fell in behind us. The walk to the cemetery was short, but by the time we got there Merle, Daryl and Rick were already digging the solitary grave. I stood there just as helpless as I had been when Francine threw her body in front of mine to stop a bullet.

"If you would permit me, I'd like to cover her and say a prayer," Gabby whispered quietly to Merle. My body tensed, expecting an explosion of violence, but instead all he did was nod once then resume digging. "Thank you."

Tara and Apocalypse Barbie carefully wrapped Francine's body in a clean, white sheet. My eyes skirted to Abraham, Sasha, and Noah's graves. The dirt was no longer fresh, the handmade crosses showing the effects of weather and time, but the flowers meticulously placed atop each grave were fresh with carefully tied ribbons wrapped around each individual bundle.

It was a dark reminder of what we'd lost, of what we continued to lose, and more importantly, how it would always linger on with the loved one's left behind.

Silently Rick, Daryl, Carl, and Merle lowered Francine's body into the shallow grave. Gabby began to speak, a bible in his hands he didn't need as he recited passages from memory. The crowd had swelled around the small graveyard, news of the tragic outing winding through the community faster than a summer breeze.

I felt Deadpool on my right, her stoic presence lending me the strength I needed to get through the service. Gabby's words were nothing but a buzzing sound in my ear. I couldn't drag my mind into the present. I kept replaying what happened, what went wrong, what I could have done differently. I saw the bullet exit the gun in slow motion, knew with certainty it was a kill shot, and understood there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it.