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As Daryl Dixon sat in that fucking fire truck, cradling the dead body of Beth Greene in his arms, he felt like he couldn’t breathe, like someone had lit a match in his throat and chest and they were enjoying the pain he suffered.
He tumbled out of the truck and into that godforsaken churchyard and he finally broke. As they gingerly took the body from him he grew angry, at the world, his life, at everything.
“No!” He shouted, that echoing, earth-shattering cry that ripped through his throat and through the air, loud and clear,” No, please. God, please, don’t!” He begged, on his knees on the gravel, his family watching him helplessly, as he slammed his palms into the rocks, splitting them open. His head was leaned back and his face was pleading as he stared up at the sky.
“You did it, you fucking bastard, always wanted to fucking hurt me, well you’ve fucking done it!” He screamed, slamming his fists down on the sharp rocks, once, twice, three times, again and again.
He was crawling towards where they’d gently laid her on the grass now, from one angle making her deceptively look asleep. He fell forward onto her, sobbing loudly, running his hands over her.
“Come on, wake up! Fuck you, Beth, fuck you!” He sobbed and screamed, shaking her gently, “You don’t get to fucking do this to me! Was that your plan, huh? Make me give a shit and then leave me alone?” Carol tried to reach out to him but to her surprise, a weeping Maggie stopped her.
He fell forward more, crying into her still warm neck, fisting her stupid fucking yellow shirt in his hand. “Please.” He pleaded, in a whisper, a hand in her hot, bloody hair.
“Love you, girl, love you so damn much.” He murmured loud enough to hear, and the groups hearts broke into little pieces.
“He did it on purpose, that fuckin’ God a’ yours, ruthless bastard. Made me love, ain’t never loved nothin’, barely loved Merle, loved you though. Always did, just never saw it. You’re a goddamn miracle, Greene.” He muttered, his hands landing on the small journal in her pocket. He didn’t care what the fucking group thought of him for reading it, so he did just that, opened it with bloody fingers. He left stains on the pages towards the end, reading for a while.
He gripped her now cold hand and placed a kiss to it, “Guess you thought it was love too, huh? You’re dumber than ya’ look, fallin’ for me.” He whispered it and he was unsure whether the others heard him, but guessing by Maggie and Carol’s breakdown and Tyreese’s silent tears, Glenn’s whimpering, Rick’s shattered posture and Carl’s emotional expression, maybe they had.
“Imma’ do it, sweetheart, Imma’ be the last man standin’ just like you said, gonna’ share your god damn story and I’m gonna miss you so damn bad while you’re gone, Beth Greene.” He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, brushing her hair back once more, sliding his rough thumb down her delicate palm, before stabbing one of his bolts into the ground beside her and climbing to his feet. Next thing everyone knew, he was gone into the woods.
The supposed he wouldn’t need to see her buried, he’d said his piece, and Beth Greene’s soul knew how much he loved her, so maybe he didn’t need to see it finalised, didn’t need to see the dirt swallow her.
And they were right, Beth’s tired yet bright soul looked at the man with nothing but love. She stood with Merle Dixon, surprised to find Merle an extremely comforting and humorous person (Or maybe it was technically ghost now...), as she stared at the man she loved.
“He got lucky I reckon, havin' you.” And Beth beamed at Merle, smiling softly at Daryl’s slumped back, sending nothing but warm air and love in his direction. What was the last man standing without a little help?