Self Inflicted

29

I don't think a single eye is dry. Even the few that didn't know Beth, I still think they feel it. Daryl sets the girl's lifeless body on the ground for Maggie to hover over. I walk over to the man and open my mouth to say something but there's nothing to say. His blue eyes are electric and flooded. I just shake my head and place my hand on the side of his quivering face. He lets out a sound and throws his head down onto my shoulder, sobbing. Tears flood from my eyes as well and I just wrap my arms around his torso.

-

We buried Beth outside the city, somewhere with some overgrown grass beneath a big maple tree. Orange-colored leaves began to litter the ground before we dug up her grave. Now, there is a plot of fresh soil surrounded by those leaves, some starting to brown. It was beautiful, like Beth, inside and out just beautiful. Someone who never deserved to see the world for what it had become, let alone lose to it. But I suppose that's how it works now. 

I tried reaching out to Daryl after we left, while we hovered over her grave he was attached to me at the hip, didn't leave my side and for the sweetest, yet most sorrowful, time he kept our fingers intertwined at our sides. Then, it was like a switch flipped when it was time to go. It was just Daryl and his thoughts, no one else could get to him, not even me. So I gave him his space, let him process things on his own but I'm still paying attention to the hidden man. 

We haven't talked, no one has really. We have no vehicle now, we ran out of gas. All of us have run out of gas too, just stumbling along the road like a pack of walkers. It's hot and we have no food, no fuel, and barely any weapons. All hope is gone, we lost Beth, we lost the possibility of a cure, and there's nothing but moving. We keep moving. 

Noah has hope that his family in Virginia is still alive and says they have a town with walls. So did Woodbury and that worked out well. He hasn't been there in almost a year, the chances of this place still being around are slim to none. But, I guess we're going to find out. He's taking us there, well some of us. Daryl stayed back so I decided to stay back too. There's too much that's happened all at once to leave him right now, whether he wants my help or not. 

-

I've been scavenging for supplies, walking a large perimeter of the group, and heading further ahead on the road to look. So far, I've found a couple of batteries in a backpack, a half-empty water bottle in a ditch, and a very old candy bar (which will be going to Michonne because she still loves to eat them). 

I head back and find the group sitting on the ground beside the car that once had fuel. Rick and a few of the others have the rest of our fuel, using it to take Noah to his home. It's been hours, we should have at least heard something by now or they're on their way back. I make my way to Carol, who has the radio to get in contact with Rick to hear any news. 

"Anything?" I ask dryly. 

"It's gone," is all she musters and I nod slowly. "Tyreese," she starts and pauses, I look at her with confusion, and then relation hits my face. "He got bit, he didn't survive the drive. They're almost back now." 

-

They make it back and we can see the defeat on their faces, most of all Noah's. He blames himself, for Tyreese, for Beth. All of it had something to do with him, or for him. Beth was in there because she let him get away. Tyreese went with Noah in hopes of finding his family and didn't make it back out. They drag out Tyreese's limp, pale body from the car. We find a place beneath a tree in a more open area of land to bury him and have a service from Gabriel. 

"We look not at what can be seen, but we look at what cannot be seen. For what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal," Glenn grabs a hand shovel of dirt and throws it atop the forming pile on Tyreese's body. I stand next to Daryl, the closest I've been to him since burying Beth not all that long ago. I'm a foot from him but I have never felt further. He's dark, his presence feels cold and empty. His expressions hold a void I can't seem to fill. I reach my hand for his, trying to grasp his fingers. They graze his and as soon as they do he quickly lifts his hand from mine, adjusting the strap of his crossbow on his shoulder and keeping his hand there. 

Cold, hurtful. Two things that seem to match a solid description of Daryl Dixon, he never was one for polite expression. Although, that often gets mistaken as being cold-hearted and cruel, which is the furthest thing from the truth. He has a beautiful soul, whether he wants anyone to know it or not. 

-

By this point, we are beyond exhaustion and I'm surprised that we're all still moving our feet. I'm mid-pack right now, hanging around by Carl and Maggie. The front of the group starts to slow until we all gather around what they're looking at. It's a gallon of water and a water bottle for each of us. There hangs a note, written in Sharpie "FROM A FRIEND." 

The others ponder back and forth discussing what to do. Eugene wants to drink it, grabs a bottle and before he can get it in his mouth, Abraham slaps the bottle away. "No," Rick grumbles. Dark clouds have begun to filter the Georgia heat and thunder claps in the air. Before we know it, it starts to sprinkle. We all grin and sigh in relief at the cooling feeling washing over us. It starts to pick up momentum and we reach for our bags, opening bowls, and water bottles, anything to collect rainwater. My bottle is starting to fill slightly and I look at it in anticipation. But quickly the weather picks up, throwing wind in the mix and it starts to look dangerous. "We need to go!" Rick shouts over the noise, everyone is drenched and looking around for answers.

"Where?" Glenn shouts back.

"I know a place," Daryl shouts and we take off after him, I still have my bottle in hand. 

We run through trees and logs, drenched and panting as the weather continues to intensify and the wind is so strong it whistles through the tree branches. We come to an opening of a loan barn and break inside. A few go in first and then we begin to follow. Stepping in is an immediate relief from the storm. People look around and set their things down, checking the security of the barn. It won't be a forever thing but should be good enough for tonight. There is a strong smell of dusty straw and dirt, a dry environment being overturned by our rain and sweat. 

-

Daryl is in a corner, bag on the ground beside the straw bail he sits on as he picks at his knife. I join him, sitting next to him on the bail. He doesn't make a motion that he notices I'm even there. He looks sad now, the still-drying clothes and dirt-caked face paint a softer picture of him somehow. It just encapsulates the image of him he doesn't want us to see, pain. The pain of a man who never got to be a boy. He grew up too fast. 

There's a fire crackling around the corner, which sits Rick and a few others who talk quietly amongst themselves. A lot of the others are asleep or working on it, we have the barn doors chained shut which gives us some piece of mind to sleep. Right now, it's just us. Daryl and I. Somehow it's always been just us, he's all I've seen for a long time. 

"How'd it happen?" I ask quietly, referring to Beth. 

"It just happened," he grumbles and unmoved his gaze from his hands. I don't say anything in hopes that he will elaborate more and he does. "Beth was trying to save Noah. That officer wanted to keep him there," he lets out a quick breath. "She stabbed her and the officer shot so quick she didn't even know what she had done. We knew that it was an accident." I nod slowly and tear up picturing it to the best of my abilities. Beth has the guts to stab her, the faceless woman shooting her out of pure instinct. It's a hurtful image, "Rick shot her." 

"Oh," it comes out breathy. It's shocking to hear but it isn't all at the same time. Rick has changed, he had to, and we all did. "You know you did everything you could have." Daryl flashes a glance at me but retreats. "She knew what she was doing, she always did," I crack a pitiful smile over the beautiful blonde. 

"Yeah," he grumbles. We sit, unmoving and silent for far too long before I try to break it slightly.

"Where do we go?" 

"I don't know," he mumbles. He puts his knife away and slides to the ground, laying on his back with his head on his bag and hand behind his head, dirt and dust below him. I ponder what I should do, if I should leave or if I should stay. Ultimately, I slide down too and lay next to him, far enough that we aren't touching, but close enough that we could. I roll onto my side facing him and place my head on his arm, waiting for him to reject but he doesn't. He doesn't look at me either, he just continues to stare at the ceiling. I lift my head slightly to plant a small kiss on his bicep and lay it back down. 

There are so many unknowns but for right now, lying with Daryl is enough. I have a feeling that anything with him is always going to be enough. More than enough.