Dusk stretches out across the vast skyline, and any trace of the dreary sky you had seen all day was now gone. The clouds that hung low as they cried raindrops down onto you had disappeared. The grey faded and was replaced with colors so bright and so saturated it made you question it's authenticity.
It was a mural, painted across the horizon in front of you. Each color seeming to come alive more and more with each passing second. And for a mere moment the ache of the day dulled. But it was only for a moment, as your eyes fell down upon the grave you hadn't left all day.
The sky tried to lift your spirits, but not even the beautiful sunset could make you forget the pain of today. Nothing could... And ever would.
"Goin ta be dark soon." A southern voice breaks you of your thoughts, and turning your head you look behind you. Spotting the redneck walking towards you.
His boots trudge through the long grass that covers the field surrounding the prison, but finally he comes across the clearing where you sit.
"I'm not ready to leave him yet." You whisper, your voice nearly stolen by the impending night. But he hears you, and takes a step closer.
With a sigh, he plops down beside you. His legs bent out in front of him as the toes of his boots touch the dirt covering the grave slightly.
"Ain't gotta be." He says calmly, and his tone is softer than you've ever heard it become before.
Quiet rushes over the two of you again, and you stare at the cross marking his grave. Just two pieces of wood nailed together. That's what he had succumbed to. As if everything he had done with his life and everything he was didn't amount to anything now that he was gone. Just a cross of wood to mark where he lay.
"He loved ya," Merle says as his deep rumble of a voice breaks through the silence.
Turning your head, your eyes land on the redneck taking up the space to your left. His eyes are looking forward at the grave his brother is burried in, but his words take you by surprise.
Merle Dixon was always quite blunt with his honesty. He always had been. It didn't matter what the truth was or if it might hurt or offend somebody else. He said it clearly and to the point, with no regard to feelings. But right now, his honesty comes out cautiously. As if he took the time to find the right words for your grieving heart.
"You sure he didn't just love parts of me?" You question, raising an eyebrow at the older Dixon brother beside you. Waiting for one of his filthy jokes or twisted comments.
Merle chuckles lowly, his raspy tone filling your ears as you watch his lips twitch upward into a slight smirk. "Nah, baby brotha wasn't ever like tha. Not like his big brother Merle."
"Wasn't bout the pussy or good time. He was different," Merle explains as his laugh fizzles out. "was better."
Your eyes leave Merle and fall upon Daryl's grave. That man, he was better. Not because he was more of a gentleman than his brother, but because he was undeniably the best person you had ever met. The person with the biggest heart that bled for everyone. The person with the bravest of souls. Daryl Dixon was better than everyone because he was himself. Through and through... Never changing.
"Can't say what exactly he liked bout 'cha body," Merle speaks up again. "never got the chance to see it myself."
You roll your eyes at his dirty dig, but let him continue because you know he has more to say.
"But I do know he liked ya spirit. Maybe jus as much as he liked your heart."
Your eyes tear up at Merle's words. Were they said just to make you feel better or touched by Daryl? Or did Merle know all of that for a fact? You'd never know, but a part of you didn't care.
