After the Storm [1]

14 • Beside the Dying Fire

...and as she looked up into the blazing inferno, all she had dreamed of turned to ash. For destruction had no timeline, and  all hope was lost...

"Dale could get under your skin. He sure got under mine. Because he wasn't afraid to say exactly what he thought, how he felt. That kind of honesty is rare and brave. Whenever I'd make a decision I'd look at Dale, and he'd be looking at me with that look he had. We've all seen it one time or another. I couldn't always read him, but he could read us. The truth... who we really are. In the end he was talking about losing our humanity. He said this group was broken. The best way to honor him is to unbreak it. Set aside our differences and pull together. Stop feeling sorry for ourselves and take control of our lives... our future. We're not broken. We're gonna prove him wrong. From now on we're gonna do it his way. That is how we honor Dale."

Rick gave Dale's eulogy under the rising sun, the glow over the horizon reminding Maevys of a time she had believed in God. A time when salvation seemed attainable. As her brother spoke, Maevys's face dripped with silent tears, but she stood strong, left hand interlocked with Daryl's and right with Andrea's. Dale had always wanted them to make peace. To see each other the way he did. In many ways, his death had finally aligned them.

It was decided, in the spirit of honoring Dale, that Randall would be driven as far out as possible and dropped somewhere he'd actually have a fighting chance. When it had come to deciding who would go, Rick looked to Daryl rather than Shane. It was a big moment between the two men, Rick handing this responsibility to Daryl. But when it came to the second travel companion, and Rick nominated himself, Maevys had an issue.

"You're not going, Rick." She states firmly, crossing her arms over her chest as she took a step towards her brother. "I'll go with Daryl."

"Via-" he starts with a sigh.

"Rick," Lori cut him off sternly. "Let her go. We need you here."

Maevys left the married couple to their bickering and went off to collect her things before her brother could say no. She hauled her pack up onto the bed of the pickup truck beside Daryl, yanking the zippers into place as he turned to her confused.

"Whattya doin?" Daryl asks her, brows furrowed.

"Keeping my brother with his family," she says, tossing her bow up into the bed followed by her arrows.

"You're my plus one?" He asks, a small smirk teasing on his lips. His follows her movements, throwing his bag up next to hers, his cross bow behind it. She ogled his muscly arms as he did so, reaching out and giving one a squeeze. 

"I am sure am, muscles," she teases, a welcome smile on her face.

Despite the utter lack of probability that Dale could have been saved, Maevys had been hard on herself after death. It always been in her nature to blame herself for losing a patient. What if she had run faster? What if she hadn't froze? Maevys had lost sleep over it the last two nights, Daryl shaking her awake to nightmare after nightmare. She had suggested he sleep in his own tent and just let her dream, but he had refused, and she was grateful for it. Daryl had been the one thing to put a smile on her face since that night, as he was doing now.