𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝔽𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 | Daryl Dixon

21 | PRETTY MUCH DEAD ALREADY

"Dale could... He could get under your skin. He sure got under mine," Rick began to speak, his tone low, filled with remorse. "Because he wasn't afraid to say exactly what he thought, how he felt... That kind of honesty is rare. It's brave... Whenever I'd make a decision, I'd look at Dale. He'd be looking back at me with that look he had... We've all seen it, one time or another. He always knew the truth about us, who we really are..."

The sun was hidden behind a heavy cloud which floated low in the sky. The morning was a dull one, the low mood of the group bringing down the temperature of the otherwise humid air. They were all gathered together to say their goodbyes to the man they lost the night before. Dale was buried in the ground, the new grave close by to Sophia's.

Hidden behind her hip, Tori's hand felt warm, her fingers locked with Daryl's as they stood side by side, eyes cast down to the fresh dirt. He hadn't left her side for the entire night, sticking to his word, staying with her, looking after her. 

When she cried herself to sleep, it was in his arms. When she woke up in a panic after a night terror, he helped her through it. Even when he went out in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, he went straight back to her before she even knew he was gone.

Tears steadily rolled down Tori's face, and she blinked to clear the blurriness of her vision a little. Her gaze was cast down to the grave where Dale lay to rest, and she sniffled, wiping her face, the tears being soaked up by her sleeve cuff. She felt Daryl squeeze her hand, reminding her, confirming to her once again that he wasn't going anywhere.

Rick ran his hand over his face, sadness behind his eyes as he continued. "In the end... he was talking about losing our humanity. He said this group was broken. The best way to honour him is to unbreak it. Pull together, stop feeling sorry for ourselves, and take control of our lives. Of our safety, our future... We are not broken. We're gonna prove him wrong. We're gonna do things his way... That is how we honour Dale."

Everyone slowly started to move away once the service was over, a respectful silence among them. The group had suffered more than one great loss in the last couple of weeks. First Jim, then Jacqui, Sophia, and now Dale. With every loss came a new layer of pain, and it was getting to the point where they were all feeling themselves change. 

But Rick was right. The best way to move on was to be better. To take back the control of what happened to them from now on.

Daryl looked down at Tori, seeing that her eyes were still locked onto the ground. "Hey," he gently called. "You good?"

"Yeah," Tori replied, her voice broken. "Just give me a second."

Her hand slipped out of Daryl's as she took a few steps toward the grave. He stayed back, watching her carefully. Tori went over to the piled of dirt that was left behind from filling in the grave. A cooling tear rolled down her flushed cheek as she grabbed a fistful of the dusty dirt and held her hand over the grave, letting it go.

It dusted over the grave, and Tori watched it as each tiny grain of brown moulded and blended in with the rest of the ground. The dirt settled until she couldn't even see where she'd dropped it, but she knew she'd done it. It was her final moment of saying goodbye to the man who had looked out for her ever since she'd left Atlanta.

Tori wiped her nose with the back of her hand after dusting her palm off on her jean leg. Glancing back over her shoulder, she was a little surprised that Daryl was still stood there, waiting for her.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Daryl's head tilted as he asked, "For what?"

The corners of Tori's lips curled up as she walked back over to him, craning her neck to look up into his eyes. "Just... being here. Staying with me last night."