Tomorrow Will Come

Thirty eight

That morning Mary awoke to the birds singing, and it made her smile and she stretched sleepily, getting a rush of memories from when she was younger, and they basically lived outside. She missed it; she loved the safety of Alexandria, but she never felt the same there. She felt more herself outside.
"Hey." Aaron whispered, looking over at Mary as she woke up, her eyes thick with sleep.
"Hi. Wake up time?" She mumbled groggily, and Aaron nodded with a fatherly laugh.
"Yeah. Here." He sighed, sitting up and tossing her one of the homemade oaty bars from Hilltop, Mary eating it hungrily for her breakfast as she observed the camp; a few people were up, Daryl and a couple others gone, and half a dozen asleep.
"Daryl?"
"Hunting. Nira and Shelby went to get some more water." Aaron explained, and Mary nodded yet again, too tired to make conversation. She looked past Aaron, to see Jesus asleep next to him, and Magna still asleep not too far away.
"I miss Maggie," Mary suddenly said, "we used to sleep out like this. Before Alexandria. And I'd always be next to my dad, Carl nearby. And I'd wake up, and they'd be there. If dad was asleep, her and Glenn would be there, awake, ready to be with me. Play stupid games until everyone else woke up and we left. To braid my hair. I miss her. Being out here on runs makes me miss everyone, but especially her. And Glenn. But I miss Glenn every second."
"He was your favourite."
"He was my person. Top three people in my life at that point. Dad, Carl, Glenny. Not a day goes by when I wish I could see him again."
"He's with you." Aaron soothed softly, not knowing what else to say, and Mary nodded, her hand instinctively going to stroke the fading material of his jacket she always wore.
"Can you still see Eric's face? Or is it fading?"
"Oh Mary..."
"I can see his face. I have photos. I remember he used tea tree shampoo. But all I ever used to do was let him carry me and hold his hand. I was always holding his hand. I can't... His hands are fading. I can't remember what it felt like to hold his hand. I felt safe. But I can't remember the feel of his hand."
"Sometimes I forget Eric's height. I forget how it felt to lie next to him at night, and... And what his lips were like. His face is there, but so much else is slipping away slowly." Aaron whispered in comfort, putting an arm around Mary.
"I'm scared I'm gonna forget them. I can barely remember my mom's face. I can't see her face, not her real one. I don't want to get to the point where I can't see dad and Carl's."
"No. I don't want you to either." Aaron breathed, kissing the side of Mary's head, unsure of how to comfort her. He couldn't remember his parents in detail either, not anymore. The tiny details slip away, get romanticised, exaggerated or underplayed, especially the physical side. How a hug felt, a fatherly kiss, hand holding, just being beside each other. He couldn't protect her from that.

"Hey. Hey, Walkers. Ten o'clock." Magna hissed to Mary, the girl's eyes jolting open. Mary grabbed her machete and slingshot, and followed a couple of other people out of their carts, including Daryl and Aaron, Magna following her.
"Only a few." Mary nodded, slaying a Walker with ease, swinging the machete over it's skull.
"No. Not a few." Aaron hissed, signalling for the others to get out and make a formation - it wasn't just a couple of Walkers, it was a couple of dozen.
"Easy." Mary half laughed, wanting to tease her uncles - she knew just how to wind them up. She fired a three slingshots, killing just as many, then grabbed a Walker who came to close by her hair, pushing her away and stabbing her at the same time, her tiny penknife working just fine.
"Moo! Careful!" Daryl hissed sharply, shooting her a glare as the teen showed off; he could see her being cocky, not being careful enough. But Mary met him with a cheeky smile, then laughed, killing two Walkers in a row, one with the machete, one with her slingshot.
Then she froze.
"Mary!" Aaron hissed, sensing the girl go still, go dangerously still on a battlefield, to no response.
"Moo!" Daryl growled, going to grab Mary as a Walker got to close, but Magna killed it first, narrowly stopping Mary from being bitten. She felt the Walkers remains of breath, the last speckle of air in it's decaying mouth, go by her ear, smelling the stench, but too frozen to gag.
"Kid!? What? Wha..."
"Dad?" Mary whispered, cutting Magna off, "Daddy? Daryl!"
"Mary?" Magna breathed, trying to break formation, to pull Mary aside - there was enough of them to kill the remaining few Walkers.
"Dad." Mary wailed, pushing Magna away, and running to a Walker. He was tall and tan, from what Mary could see, with her father's haircut. It was his jeans. His beloved, beaten down, tatty jeans. He had cowboy boots on.
"Daryl! Uncle Daryl! It's dad!" Mary screamed, so hysterical she couldn't see anything but the Walker. "Aaron! Aaron, it's my dad! It's daddy!"
"Mary. Mary, breathe." Magna whispered, grabbing the girl tightly and pulling her to sit on the floor, holding her upright.
"That's my dad! My dad!" Mary wailed, her voice ear splitting, drawing more Walkers, more danger.
Her dad.
Gone.
She was so sure he wasn't. So sure he was somewhere hidden. Somewhere safe. Somewhere trying to get back to her.
He was truly gone.
RJ wouldn't ever meet his dad. They wouldn't ever have a meal together. He wouldn't ever hug her again. Tell her he loves her. Kiss her goodnight. Sing the Sunshine Song. Not to any of them.
And Mary just sobbed and screamed, clinging to Magna, fighting her off, but unable to break free. Unable to stop cry, to stop screaming.
"Mary." A gentle voice whispered, breaking her screams apart. "Mary."
"My dad." Mary whimpered, her voice hoarse and broken.
"Mary. Mary Grimes. Look. Look at me." Aaron soothed, taking her panicked face into his hands, accidentally smearing blood onto her cheeks.
"He's actually dead." Mary sobbed, falling into her uncles arms, clinging to him.
"Mary, it's not him," Aaron whispered, holding her tightly, "that's not your dad. I'm sure. That's not him."
"No, it looks... It looks like daddy. That's my dad." Mary cried, the image of her father as a decaying Walker ripe in her mind.
"No, Mer. It's not yer daddy." Daryl confirmed, Mary's head raising to look over to Daryl, the man stood over what she thought was her father's body.
"He... It..."
"This ones eyes are brown. His face was already half shot off. An' he's smaller. He's smaller than yer daddy, an' yer daddy had a scar from being shot. Scars. He doesn't have one in the same place. It's not yer dad." Daryl confirmed, beckoning Mary over. Mary stood up, wiping her tears and snot out of her face, but simply mixing it in with the blood Aaron had accidentally smeared there.
"Look," Daryl whispered, putting an arm around her, "not yer daddy."
Mary looked at the Walker and saw it - he barely even looked like her father. He was just another dead man. Another Walker in another herd.
Mary didn't talk the whole way home, filled with a mixture of shame and fear, clinging to Daryl's hand and her dad's hat the whole time.