intact ➵ beth is alive

» 6

It doesn't happen the way he pictured it would.
Not that he ever really pictured it at all. It was more just wondering what it would be like, having her here with them. The quiet nights, standing outside downing a mason jar half full of half-assed moonshine. He doesn't worry about going blind. He knows Maggie has seen him, probably heard him. Heard his quiet confessions to her memory. He can picture her sitting across from him, but all he can do is knock back the glass by himself and wonder what she might've said in return.
But, he has pictured it.
It happens some nights in his dreams.
It happens on the nights where the hospital doesn't replay, again and again. It's more gruesome and realistic than any nightmare he can recall.
It's always the same.
Noise at the gates.
People yelling, him trying, not really understanding what's happening.
But he watches Maggie.
Sees a flash of blond hair.
And Glenn.
A gray sweater.
And Rick.
Cowboy boots.
He runs to her in his dreams.
Each night, he hears the way his bow falls.
Feels the pavement rip his pants where they've worn thin at his knees.
Smells the woods on her clothes, in her hair.
Daryl can taste the tears on his lips when he wakes up alone.

He's not even there when it happens.

There is no fanfare at the gates.

Maggie does cry when they hug, so do Glenn and Rick, so does she.
Rick answers the question in her eyes.
"He's here, on a run, but he's here."

They feed her, she baptizes herself in the shower and falls asleep on the couch with everyone back in the same house they stayed in that first night.

For one reason or another he doesn't go to Aaron's after the run.
He's tired, but the lights are on and it piques his curiosity.
"Rick?"
The quiet hum of conversation from the kitchen stops at his voice.
Daryl takes a few steps into the house and turns to put his bow down against the wall, hears the quiet tap of it against the wall, when he sees someone on the couch.
"Daryl." Rick is standing in the hallway, Maggie is on the other side of the living room, backlit by the warmth of the kitchen.
He takes a deep breath, the blond hair. He knows it's Jessie... but there's a braid and he forces down the lump in his throat.
"What's everyone doing here?" He can see movement in the kitchen, hears someone moving around upstairs.
"Why's Jessie..." Daryl motions to the figure stirring on the couch. The blanket moves, brown cowboy boots.

He's mad at her for wearing them.

"Daryl, it's not... that's not Jessie."
His eyes snap up to Rick, daring him. Daring him to do do this. To torture him. To point out the one weakness everyone knows he has.

"It's not Jessie."
He's staring Rick dead in the eye, ignoring the movement on the couch.
"I don't care who it ain't." His voice is a growl, the hurt shows more clearly when he's tired.

She sits up and rubs at her eyes.
He bites down on the inside of his lip until he can taste the coppery tang of his blood, forcing his head to stay where it is, his eyes trained on Rick.
The tension radiates off of him and fills the room.
Someone is standing at the foot of the stairs.
Rick nods, gesturing for him to turn, but all Daryl can do is blink his eyes and clench his fists. He can feel everyone looking at him.

"Daryl..."
It's a raspy whisper of his name that knocks the wind out of him.
He squeezes his eyes shut, comparing the voice on the couch to the one in his memory.
He listens to the rustle of movement and then the soft steps making their way to him.
Daryl knows Rick and Maggie and whoever it is at the bottom of the stairs are all looking at him.
He knows if there is anyone else in the house they are probably watching him too.
His hair stands on end when she stops in front of him.
He's sucking in air through his teeth and feels his heart thumping in his ears. The room would be spinning if he opened his eyes, but then...
Then.
Then her hand finds his and when her fingers lock around his the world locks into place and her name falls off of his lips with a heavy sob.

"Beth."

The carpet doesn't tear through his thin pants.
She smells like the soap they all use.
Her thumb catches his tears before he can taste them.

final chapter written by silverspoon6609 on tumblr. it fits, and it's better writing than ive done the whole book, lmao. if the author wishes it be removed, i will delete it. i hope you enjoyed. xx