Fallout After Fallout
"'cause it's a half-life, it's a fallout."
Summary: Set shortly after the explosion on the bridge which took out Rick, You and Daryl comfort one another while still reeling from the catastrophic loss of your leader, and friend. (lottssss of hurt/comfort)
word count: 1,616
pairing: Daryl Dixon x (fem!)Reader
Daryl had been gone for a good few days, along with Michonne, to look for Rick. Your head was killing you slowly, the unrelenting pounding and throbbing behind your eyes was unbearable. Maybe it was lack of sleep, or perhaps it was the gnawing guilt that grew in your stomach. The replay of the last thing you said to Rick in your head, over and over like a broken record. The words you spewed like venom from your mouth, out of anger or hurt now seemed futile.
"Your fault."
was now all that could be heard, like an endless screen of static in your brain. Your last conversation with Rick was your lost blame falling on his shoulders.
"This is all your fault."
You had hissed it through clenched teeth, crossing a line, a boundary of no return. Now he is gone and your anger can only point inwards. It was destroying you. Your own grief ripped at your stomach with its sharpened claws, rotten teeth tearing at you from the inside out.
What you really needed was for Daryl to come back home, for him to reassure you even though you knew it wouldn't fill the dark pit forming in your gut. You wanted his hands to stroke your hair like he always does when your mind races ahead of what your heart can handle. For him to hold you close, rock you sweetly, even if you don't deserve his love.
But Daryl was doing what you should be doing, what you wish you had the strength to do. Looking for him, and you're alone with your thoughts. Wandering through the empty house.
You climb the steps up to the bedrooms, making sure your footsteps are soft enough not to wake little Judith whom you had put to bed just a few hours ago.
She had asked if her Daddy would tuck her in.
You slip past Judith's room into your and Daryl's room, toeing off your boots and shrugging off your old and worn jacket. Throwing yourself into the bed as the pillows surround you in a warmth you are certain you do not deserve. Still, you sink deeper into the pillows and deeper into despair.
It hits you like a freight train, the sudden and instantaneous wave of nausea grief, and guilt. You're drowning in it, the overwhelming feeling that you're alone.
You are alone, it hits you.
All you can do is cry, stifling the sounds into your pillow as you do, because the last thing you want to do is wake up the sleeping baby, the sleeping baby girl who doesn't really know her brother and her dad won't ever come back home.
Before you even acknowledge it you shuffle over to Daryl's side, his scent immediately filling the emptiness in your heart, your trembling, tired hands grip the sheets that smell like him for comfort, clinging to them desperately, holding the covers close to your chest until you finally pass out from exhaustion.
Daryl returns home that night, his eyes somehow darker, more deep set than before it happened. He wanders upstairs slowly, taking his time as the overpowering guilt he feels for everyone who's ever been in this house comes back to him in waves, everyone who will never come back to this stupid house.
He finally reaches the door of your shared room, hesitating slightly before opening it. His heart drops to see you on his side, and your eyebrows are drawn together in a pained expression as you grip the sheets tightly. He can tell from here you're in a fitful, restless sleep.
His heart aches in that moment, an indescribable pain he feels. He knows you share it.
He slowly lowers himself down onto the bed, trying not to wake you but it's no use, your eyes flicker open, broken voice, thick with sleep and tears whispering out to him.
"Daryl?"
"m'here" he replies as he moves towards you with unspoken urgency, and it's so short and simple and still too much. A broken sob escapes your lips, and once it starts it won't stop, painful cries that you stifle into his shirt rip their way out your chest. He just holds you through it, like always, stroking your hair. The very gentleness you told yourself you definitely did not and still don't deserve, yet your selfish selfish self can't seem to push him away.
"It's not your fault" he whispers slowly, rubbing your back in small circles, kissing where your hairline meets your forehead gently as you cling to him.
Upon hearing this your tears only fall harder, you don't have the energy to disagree with him, you don't have the energy to tell him that it actually is your fault. Everything is the result of your twisted mind-numbing grief.
Daryl knows you both feel it now, the blame, the guilt. He knows both your hearts are aching in sync, for the people lost and missing, for the baby girl across the hall, oblivious and asleep.
Michonne.
A sharp pain runs through his heart, the hair on his arms standing to attention as he selfishly pulls you closer, burying his face into your hair. Losing his brother, Michonne losing Rick, threw him hurtling back into reality, like he had fallen through a frozen lake, plunging into icy water and sinking. Shock and disbelief kept attacking him anytime he tried to break out from under the ice. Rick, the constant, was gone. You could just as easily vanish from his grasp.
He still has you. It makes him feel sick. He can't stop the feeling. The inadequacy of his attempts to help everyone "for the better good" nearly caused bile to rise in his sorry throat.
He still has you. He doesn't deserve this.
Your voice breaks him from his own terrifying thoughts, your breaths coming sharply between words, interrupting your sentences with gasps and huffs as you fail miserably to calm your emotions enough to speak.
"I told him it was all his fault." You manage to whimper through the tears. "Now he's -"
Daryl cuts you off sharply with a grunt, staring at you with piercing eyes. They still hold a softness in them, but they are tired and weary. They've seen too much.
"He ain't dead," Daryl replies. His voice is low, his tone a warning, yet the way his hand shakes to a stop in its path through your hair makes you certain he doesn't believe the words.
"Okay." You murmur back in response, the bluntness of his reaction numbing your emotions for that moment, shocking you out of your stupor.
"Okay," You repeat softly, watching him carefully in the dim light, awaiting his next move. It was his turn to break now.
He broke eye contact, staring past you, anywhere. His tears fall silently as he starts to sob next to you. Your arms snake around his neck, pulling him close, so close he is practically on top of you, fully tangled in one another's arms. Sobbing in tandem with him and pressing kisses to him wherever you can reach if it had even the possibility to heal his pain, you would do it forever.
After many hours, the two of you were still wrapped in one another's arms. Intertwined so tightly that if anyone were to walk into the room they might mistake you for one large mound under the covers, rather than two people.
You stirred slightly from inside his arms, turning to stare out the window across the room, the sun is slowly and steadily rising now. Rays of orange gold crept over the horizon and spilled out onto the streets of Alexandria.
A new day is beginning out there, yet inside, here with you two of you, time has frozen, preserving you both.
Rain starts to steadily fall outside, tiny droplets falling together to create an almost misty effect, a morning shower beginning, cleansing the world for this new day. The sound roused Daryl from his light sleep, and his blue eyes flickered open to look at you, then to the slightly open window.
He says nothing, and neither do you, for what feels like an eternity.
"She'll be awake soon" You eventually whisper, your face turning back to look at him.
"soon" He echos, staring out the window still, watching the raindrops fall, the sounds filling the room, mingling with both of your soft, shallow breaths. He is distant, distracted, and detached.
"we will be okay" You breathe, putting a soft hand on his cheek and forcing him to look at you finally. His blue eyes are so devoid of the spark, and the snarky, fiery archer from the farm is slowly fading with every person lost.
"we will" You repeat, maybe this time you'll believe it.
"Yeah." He whispers back, his eyes closing as he leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours and inhaling deeply.
Just then, Judith cries softly from across the hall, the noise carrying through the room, drowning out the soft rain.
You sit up, Daryl following after you, mirroring your movements in a way that suggests both your soul and body are in sync, as they always have been.
You look at him, then to the direction of the cries.
"c'mon," You nod, reaching out to gently graze his hand with yours, pulling him to the surface, anchoring him to you. "day by day."
"day by day" He echoes while nodding, a lock of dark brown, unruly hair falling in front of his eyes. While reaching forward to tuck it back instinctively, in that moment, you believe yourself, even for a second.
Day by day can be enough, It's gonna have to be.
A/N: so I actually really love the way this one turned out!! sorry it's so angsty but I do love some angst and I have yet to post some proper angst here so ENJOY! (p.s I'm very much sticking to my new years resoulution of writing more as we can see)
