The Walking Dead Imagines (Requests OPEN)

[Daryl Dixon] If This Means Goodbye

PROMPT:
Daryl has to say a final goodbye to you when the group are forced to leave.
(Another one of those flashback kinda imagines)

[requested by Haileyplayz34 ]

"So, he doesn't know she's an assassin and she doesn't know he's an assassin. To make things worse, they're both working for competing agencies. This goes unknown for a while - and they live this bland cookie cutter life together as husband and wife. That is, until they get assigned to kill the same guy, and run into each other. Neither tells the other one that they know who each other are...if that makes sense. Then... the couple get assigned to kill each other."
Daryl showed no expression as you talked, his crossbow strung across his muscled shoulder. He made a low grumble.
"Point is?"
"My point is, we're kinda like Mr and Mrs Smith." You replied, taking out your hand from underneath the sheets and grabbing his.
"Cept' we ain't assassins and we ain't killing each other." Daryl bluntly replied, letting go of your hand instantly. You sat up, aware of the silence settling in the room.
"We are going to need to talk about this, Daryl." You grunted, wincing at the sudden pain that flushed through your body.
"There ain't nothin to talk about."
"There is." You reached over to touch his arm but he flinched, standing up from his chair to escape your touch. "Daryl!" You shouted, making him jump a little.
Daryl's shoulders faltered.
The silence lasted for a few minutes- and you closed your eyes.
"Daryl, I'm going to die. Hershel thinks I have a tumour in my brain. A lot of people don't survive that even with treatment- and without? Listen, I'm okay. I'm alright. I'm sick of hating the world for doing this to me- to us. I'm ready and I accept this. Why can't you?"
"No. Rick and I, we goin' on a run. We're gonna bring you something back-"
"THAT'S STUPID!" You shouted, sliding back into the bed. "Just...accept this."

Everything was going so fast, so crazy, so loud. Every single moment went by like a flash of lightning. Bullets ricocheted against the prison walls- and a tank rolled through the fence. A lot of things were happening- but nothing mattered. Not like you mattered.

Daryl's footsteps padded across the concrete as he sprinted towards the back of the prison, a long stitch growing in his chest. He didn't care- as out of breath as he was, he didn't care. He wanted to get somewhere, and that's what would happen.

He found himself turning the corner to the make shift cemetery- and all the noise stopped. Things were no longer fast- they were now slow.
He crashed down into the dirt, falling in front of the wooden cross hitched into the ground.
Daryl knelt down by the cross, curling into a little ball and heaving in and out to catch his breath. He'd just ran faster than he'd ever ran in his whole entire life.

Daryl looked at the cross embedded into the dry dirt. He clawed at the dirt, lying down on it and heaving.
Closer.
He wanted to be close to you.
Daryl didn't cry, he just lied there.
You were gone. You were gone and now he had to go. Daryl had to leave. Him and everybody else had to leave. The prison was being attacked- but how could he leave you here? How could he?
"I gotta go." He breathed out, his heart hurting immensely.

"What is it?" Daryl asked, sitting back down on the chair in front of your cot that he'd sat on time and time around. You reached under your pillow, bringing out an item wrapped in a pillow-case.
"I've been making them for you- while you've been hunting. I don't know how they'll be- but I know you need some more."
You passed him the gift.
"I owe you. Remember that one time that you were teaching me how to use your crossbow, and then I shot a bolt and we couldn't find it?" Just as you went to laugh, you began coughing.
Daryl rushed to your side. You pushed him away.
"Open it." You sighed.
He unwrapped the pillow case, pulling out three bolts.
"You made these?" Daryl questioned.
"I lie in bed all day 'resting'. Had a little spare time." You smirked. Daryl smiled, which vanished in seconds.
"Thanks." He stood up, turning around so that you couldn't see his face. So that you couldn't see his emotion.
"Don't do that." You whispered, creasing your brows. "Stop pushing me away."

Daryl punched the ground, cursing to himself. He couldn't find the strength to move- or the strength to leave you.
"I'm sorry." He whispered, continuing to claw at the ground. "I'm sorry that I have to go."
Daryl choked on his own tears, as he rolled on his back and stared at the sky.
"I'm sorry that I pushed you away. I shoulda' been there with ya. I should've held ya hand. But I was scared."
Two birds flew across the sky, and Daryl shut his eyes. He opened them- and the sky was blue.
So blue.
"Truth is- I was scared. I didn't wanna lose you like Merle. I didn't wanna accept what was happening to ya. I wanted to pretend ya didn't even exist. Cause even that was easier than losing you."
Daryl took a deep breath, taking his crossbow from his shoulder and placing it next to him.
"I gotta go. I gotta go and I don't know if I'll be back."
Daryl's heart hurt, his head hurt, his everything hurt.

Daryl rolled back over, looking at the wooden cross that he'd made in his blinded fury after hearing of your passing.
"Goodbye." He whispered, taking a bolt from his crossbow and stabbing it into the dirt.
Daryl picked himself up, sprinting away- shielding himself from constant gunfire.

He left you buried, with a cross marking your whereabouts and a homemade bolt three inches deep in the ground. Not just any crossbow bolt. The one you'd given him.

Daryl ran. He ran away from a lot of things- but for once, he wasn't running away from you. He knew now, why he had to shelter himself from your touch, from your love.

Because the day would come where he would have to say goodbye - and he was scared. He was so scared.
But it was over.
It was all over.
He had to go.
So this was goodbye. Goodbye once and for all.

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