Lost | Daryl Dixon

31 - Gossamer

First Person POV

The group stood over Dale's grave, a pained silence infecting each of them as they allowed themselves to wallow in the pain. Each and every one of them had been affected by Dale's influence. I know I was, and all I felt was shame for not backing him when he pleaded for us to save Randall.

Dale was more than just another member of the group; he was our moral compass, our friend. And now, he laid in the dirt, the same as Sophia. If he wasn't so upset with us, he would have been at camp. My hands continued to press in and out from the stress. I swallowed hard, looking towards Rick as he thought of how to describe Dale, how to remember him differently than a man moaning and begging for help whilst he died. It isn't how he would want to be remembered.

"Dale could...could get under your skin."

"Eliza... Liz, come on," A distinct voice called - I felt hands hook under my arms and pull me from Dale's body. I didn't fight, feeling too weak to, my head felt weightless as I was pulled away. Andrea sobs in front of me, and Carl cries into Lori - but I don't move for them, I just stare at Dale's lifeless corpse. I didn't see the shot, but the sound of it echos in my mind like a curse. I can feel his blood under my nails.

"He sure got under mine, because he wasn't afraid to say exactly what he thought... how he felt."

"C'mon, we gotta get you away," The voice sounded distant, but the breath hit my ear distinctly close. I blinked slowly, my head slowly turning as fresh tears began to fall. Daryl was pulling me away - T-Dog and Shane began moving Dale's body from everyone as the group sobbed and sighed. Someone tried to pull Andrea away.

"That kind of honesty, is rare... and brave. Whenever I'd make a decision, I'd look at Dale. He'd be looking back at me with that look he had," Rick smiled, reflecting on Dale's memory kindly. "We've all seen it one time or another."

Andrea yelled and begged, wanting no one to touch her.

"He's dead..." I whispered, sobs racking my body as I felt Daryl force my arm around his shoulders, walking me away from the body and towards the house. Snot and tears mixed as I almost choked on my cries, shaking against him as he pulled me along. My feet dragged in the dirt, unable to walk. "Dale..."

"Liz, come on," He gritted out, clearly more shaken by the loss than he expected. When I couldn't find the energy to move, he hooked a hand under my legs, pulling me up and carrying me with relative ease as he walked me towards the house. I cried into him. Dale was dead - Dale...

"I couldn't always read him - but he could read us," Rick turned, facing everyone. "He saw people for who they were. He knew things about us. The truth... who we really are."

He pulled me into the house, plates and the door left haphazardly from Patricia and Hershel running out to help. I felt him adjust his grip on me, as he took me into the first-floor bathroom. I barely saw the world through the blurry colouring of the tears in my eyes.

He sighed when he looked at me, slowly lowering me with a small gasp when I fell back without catching myself. He kept hold of me, making me sit on the closed toilet as he grabbed a fresh washcloth from the cupboard, wetting it and ripping open the soap and pouring a dollop on.

"In the end, he was talking about losing our humanity. He said this group was broken."

He crouched, face affixed in a frown as he grabbed my hands, wiping blood off of them, carefully. He was surprisingly gentle as I cried, sniffing back the tears as I tried to calm down - he didn't seem to care about what a mess I was in, cleaning off my arms and wrists and nails soaked in Dale's blood.

Was this my fault? If I sided with him, maybe he would...

"The best way to honor him is to unbreak it. To... set aside our differences, and pull together, stop feeling sorry for ourselves... and take control..."