(Part 2 for one shot Invisible)
Weeks had passed since your encounter with Daryl Dixon that early morning.
And you had done a good job at avoiding him, only catching glimpses of him on a couple occasions.
You weren't sure if you were avoiding him due to embarrassment from all the aching truth you told him. Or out of anger towards him. Perhaps it was the way you felt ashamed of yourself for thinking that someone like him would notice someone like you. What ever the reason... You hadn't spoken a word to him since.
Things at the prison soon fell into a routine and you found yourself more quiet than usual. Avoiding a certain someone and not very social with the others. Not that a whole lot of people noticed the difference, but you could feel it.
Holed up more in your cell, privacy provided by a pale sheet in the entrance. The bed was something that took getting used to in the beginning, now the mattress was something you craved. As you would lay on it, reading old books people brought back. Or sketching random pictures in a small black sketchbook.
It was peaceful; something you weren't used to having anymore. And you were thankful for it.
You chose not to go sit out early and watch the sunrises anymore; you weren't sure however if it was because of the memories it brought up or if you'd just lost the joy in it.
Whatever the reason, Daryl saw that you had stopped. The next couple days after your speech to him, he went out early to wait with you. But you never came.
He wasn't sure why he cared so much; it wasn't out of his character to anger, frustrate or ignore people. But when you confessed what you did to him, something in him felt unsettled.
Daryl took it upon himself to keep an eye on you, which was harder than he thought it would be as you had seemed to disappear most of the day.
One week after another, he'd try to catch glances at you when he could. And each time he felt that same uneasy bubbling of guilt in his gut.
The night that falls now is just like the last, dark and cool. Routine. As you sit propped up by two pillows with an old dusty classic book, a beam of moonlight enter the dim cell as the sheet is pulled to the side.
Lifting your head, the person who stands in the entrance is the last person you expected.
Daryl Dixon.
You wonder if he can see the shock on your face, and the faint pink raising in your cheeks.
He can.
"What are you doing here?" You whisper, your voice sounding so timid and small.
The sheet falls back to covering the door as Daryl takes a few steps into the confined space.
"Ye chew on the end of ye hair when ye read," Daryl's voice is low, and quiet in it's own way. "real contrated on the words."
Your eyebrows bend slightly, still unsure as to why he's standing in front of you right now.
"Ye always braid ye hair, only put it up high when ye out working in the field or by the fences."
Daryl's eyes flicker between the wall behind you to your eyes, unable to hold full contact for more than a few seconds.
"Ye got a small tattoo behind your right ear," He points out, and for some reason your hand lifts to touch it lightly. "usually covered by your hair. Can't really make out what it is though."
A small daisy; in memory of your mother. You got it when you were nineteen.
"Ye hum on ye way to the showers or the kitchen, wherever ye off to ye humming some tune."
The ghost of a smile shadows Daryl's lips, and you wonder if he's playing the image in his mind.
He is.
"Ye let others go first in line for dinner or breakfast," Daryl states. "usually gettin yours last."
Daryl chews on his thumbnail; his nervous habit.
"Ye chew on your lip when you're thinking hard or anxious bout somethin."
You weren't aware you did that, or at least as often as Daryl makes it sound.
"Ye always smiling these small kind smiles at people, even on the bad days." Your smile flashes in his mind, making him shift his weight from one foot to the other.
"It's like bringing a little light into the darkness."
Daryl's eyes finally lock with yours after a few minutes, and he holds the gaze longer than he could earlier.
"Nights ye can't sleep, you come out to the railing when e'rrybody else is sleepin. To look out the windows at the moon."
Daryl shares that with you. Something he did-- and does-- often on sleepless nights.
"Ye got a real," Daryl pauses, trying to find the right word. "honest heart."
It's the thing he's said to you that really surprises you, all of them did but this one... Isn't something you can visibly see. It's something that you begin to feel to know over time.
"Why are you telling me all this Daryl?" You ask him. Your voice once again in a whisper, your mouth feeling dry as you speak up.
Daryl just stares at you for a moment, trying to find his answer and the right words.
Finally, he straightens as he shoves his hands into his dark faded and worn jeans.
"Because ye should know that you're wrong."
Again, confusion overcomes you.
Your eyes lock once more with Daryl's; and you find yourself digging to find the explanation somewhere in the sea of his blue eyes.
Blinking, Daryl begins to move towards the sheet and towards the door. But pauses before pulling the sheet back to leave.
Looking back, he looks at you.
"I do see you."
With that he leaves, and you feel something heavy in your heart.
Daryl Dixon took the time to notice all those little things about you. He didn't have to, and you surely didn't make it easy as you began disappearing. But still he managed to see all those things.
And finally, for the first time in your life, you feel noticed.
A/N: I hope this part 2 lives up to the first part and any expectations. I really like it! :)
