Red ~ TWD (Daryl Dixon)

The End of Everything

In my life I'd worn countless masks, each one serving a particular purpose.  There were masks that protected me from abuse inflicted by the person who should have loved me, but couldn't.  Masks that hid the grief of losing those I loved despite my best efforts to prevent it.  Masks that helped me obscure the pain caused by the depravity I'd unleashed in the name of my country.

Today was no different. 

It was a different mask for an entirely different challenge.

To say Daryl had been distant when he finally came home last night would be an understatement, but I let him have his space because a relationship without trust was like a cell phone with no service, all you could do was play games.  Besides, I didn't need to hound him to know what was eating away at him.  He felt responsible for Denise.  I knew because I felt the same.  The only difference between our respective guilt was the complexity added by him sparing the man who'd taken hers.

The following morning brought with it more of the same.  We went through the motions which entailed me pretending I didn't notice the restlessness brewing in my husband, and him pretending he wasn't about to take matters in his own hands without me.  I couldn't stop him, not for any reasonable amount of time.  Just like the determined doctor who'd died yesterday, if he was going to do this there wasn't a damn thing I could do stop him. 

I'd always had a natural talent for reading people though I didn't particularly need it in this situation.  Daryl's intentions were being broadcast loud and clear like a message on the now defunct emergency broadcast system.  Even Billy Ray Cyrus, the most socially inept person alive, would be able to spot his subterfuge like a stain on a white shirt.

Nevertheless, I waited for him to broach the subject, to let me help, but I was destined for disappointment.  When he brushed a half-hearted kiss against my cheek, mumbling a lie about working on his bike for the rest of the day I was barely able reel in my desire to strangle him.

Thankfully this wasn't my first rodeo. 

My mask never faltered as I smiled and nodded where appropriate, not letting on I saw through his bullshit all the while plotting behind his back.  He may not want my help, but he was getting it.  He just didn't know it yet.  I'd deal with his treachery after I made sure he didn't do something stupid, like end up dead. 

It occurred to me in the last moments before he left that he was so distracted by grief and revenge he didn't even realize I'd snuffed out his intent.  He was the one who'd first realized I came fully equipped with an internal lie detector, not to mention an accident avoidance system.  It was further proof he wasn't thinking, not clearly, and that scared the shit out me.  Even in the direst of scenarios he was level-headed and calm, always thinking and maneuvering to ensure the most favorable outcome, but not today.  Today he was rash, reckless, and fueled by pure hate.

The moment he walked out of the room I sprang into action, collecting weapons, loading up a pack, and devising a plan that didn't involve choking the life from man I loved.  My grandmother was right; you didn't have to like someone to love them.

The second Merle saw me he knew something was wrong.  He left Francine at the kitchen island, moving until he was standing front of me, effectively cutting off my escape until I explained the arsenal on my body and determination on my face.

"He's going after Two-Face," I said without prodding.  I didn't have time to argue, and kicking his ass would take even longer.  Better to be frank, and move this show along.  "I'm going after him."

"I'll get my stuff."

I grabbed his arm, shaking my head.  "You have to stay here."

"The hell I do."