tw: suicidal thoughts

Daryl Dixon thought he was dead after Beth was taken away by whoever was in that black car, speeding down the road and disappearing into the night. He wanted to be dead. He ran after that car until the sun rose again the next morning, wishing that the running would drain the life out of him, but it only drained his energy, weighing him down until he dropped to his knees, alone, in the middle of the road.

He had failed at the only thing he knew to do: take care of people.

When he was young, Daryl didn't care much for his life. He walked along a thin line between life and death, teetering to either side each and every day. His mother rested on one side while his father lived on the other, and it didn't feel fair. No matter how far he sunk, though, Daryl could never pull the trigger, never down the bottle of pills, never get the knife close enough to his skin. All that kept him alive back then was the fact that he was a pussy, as Merle would put it. No matter how much he thought about dying, he could never do it.

Then, he met Birdie. And he learned why he could never pull the trigger.

Daryl was alive to keep Birdie alive. Birdie was the light peaking out between the cracks in the dark storm cloud sky of his life, and he was there to be the light in hers. When they were in high school, he would give her his lunch if she didn't have one, he would skip class to sit with her whenever she was too low to go to her own, and he would cheer her up when things at home got rough. She would do the same for him.

For a long time, it was just the two of them, taking care of each other and being the beat of each other's hearts. Daryl was alive because of Birdie and Birdie alone.

Years and years later, Junebug came along and brought more love and life than Daryl ever could've imagined existed along with her. She was the cutest baby—her soft giggles alone could fix every awful thing in his life, and he cherished her like she was treasure because she was. He wasn't just Daryl Dixon anymore. He was Juniper's dad. His job was to take care of Juni and to keep on being alive with Birdie by his side, and when Birdie went away, Juni was all he lived for.

He always told her, repeatedly like it was the anthem of her life, that the only thing that mattered was that she kept breathing. Because it was. Juniper was Daryl's baby, no matter how old she got, and he had to keep her alive, keep her breathing, keep her in his arms because he couldn't lose her like he lost everyone else.

And then he lost her. He fucking lost her and he fucking lost Birdie in less than a minute—though that minute ticked on for what felt like years, watching the horrified look on June's face and wishing more than anything in the world that he could be right there next to her, holding her to his chest and protecting her from the world around. Instead, he stood a field away, pressed up against a chainlink fence doing nothing.

Daryl had failed at keeping her safe, and he failed at keeping Birdie safe. All he knew to do after that was to try to keep whoever else he could safe. That someone turned out to be Beth.

Beth Greene, who Daryl couldn't look in the eyes properly because in those eyes he saw the outline of what would have been Juni's future, if she had made it that far. Beth reminded Daryl of Juni in a thousand ways, ever since the beginning. The way she tried to remain innocent, pure, and hopeful despite the horrors of the world around her. It reminded Daryl so much of Juni it sometimes made him feel nauseous, especially back on that farm when Beth did what Daryl never had the courage to do and sliced deep into her wrist.

The sun goes down eventually, and no matter how much sweetness Beth tried to keep inside her, there would always be one thing that would get her to break. Seeing her momma stumble out of that barn, dead-eyed and hungry for flesh, only to watch someone put a bullet through her brain was what broke Beth.

From there on out, Daryl worried about what would break Juni. Her sun would go down someday, and Daryl would get nightmares about what it would be that would break her.

Juni never got that far. Daryl couldn't keep her alive long enough for her to reach her lowest.

And when all Daryl had anymore was Beth, he couldn't help but continue seeing her as Juni. He had to make up for his failure. Hershel would appreciate it, he thought. So he protected Beth. He was cold, at times, because most of his mind was consumed by anger and hatred both for himself and everything around him—what was anything worth anymore without Juni and without Birdie? Regardless of his anger, he took care of Beth to the best of his ability.

He failed her, too. How long had he managed? A week, maybe? God, he was awful. Awful.

Then the Claimers came along, and soon, Daryl found Rick, Michonne, and Carl, and he saw what those monsters were willing to do, and he worried that maybe Juni or Birdie really had gotten away from the prison alive and they had run into someone as cruel as those men. He would prefer it if they were dead, in that case, he thought. Every day, he felt sicker.

That night, Daryl had stayed up until sunrise with Rick. Daryl told him that he would have done the same as Rick, biting into that monster's neck, and that any good father would have—not that Daryl could ever think of himself as a good father. And they had talked about Juni, and Birdie, and Beth, and all the others they had lost along the way, and when Rick tried to convince Daryl that there was a chance of Juniper still being alive, Daryl's walls crumbled and he cried in front of Rick. That sliver of hope that Rick was trying to give him only felt like salt in the wound. Daryl had seen the blood, the scuffed-up tracks, all outside of the cabin with Junebug's name written on it.

The next day, they trudged their way to Terminus, and when they got there and were locked in a train car, Daryl hoped they would kill him first. His baby was gone and Birdie was gone, and if Heaven really did exist, he was sure that it was the only place he would ever see either of them again.

But Birdie Dixon was alive. She is alive. And with Carol by her side, she helped the group escape Terminus without a single life lost. Out there in the woods outside of Terminus, Daryl had done it again, letting his walls crumble and crying into Birdie's shoulder.

From there on out, they have been the beating of each other's hearts—what's left of their hearts, at least—once again. Birdie has been persistent and unwavering in her belief that Juni is still alive, and it eats away at Daryl. He saw the evidence. If Birdie had seen it, too, she would understand. But she continues to deny it.

She denies it now, for the millionth time, as she stands beside Daryl on the top floor of a tall office building in Atlanta.

"I don't know, Daryl. I just feel it in my heart or my lungs or somethin'. She's out there somewhere," Birdie says with her back against the wall.

Daryl can't force a response out of his mouth, because the truth is that he wants to scream at Birdie for trying to push false hope into his head. Instead of saying anything, he pretends to be too focused on looking through the scope of the gun he's holding to have heard her.

Atlanta is where Daryl, Birdie, and Carol have followed a car to. A car that had the same symbol on it as the car that took Beth. The white cross. They don't know what it means, why the symbol is on the cars, or why the cars are driving in and out of the city in the first place, but they know one of the cars took Beth, and Daryl will be damned if he doesn't get that girl back to Maggie, who is waiting back at the church with the others right now.

With a sniper rifle in his hands, Daryl peers through the scope and lets his eyes wander all over the city, searching for something. He doesn't even really know what it is he's looking for. Just something that might lead them in the right direction.

Then, he spots it. A van, maybe a mile away, just barely balanced on the edge of a bridge. On the two back windows of that van are white crosses, just the same as on the car that took Beth and the car that they chased into the city last night.

Lowering the rifle, Daryl leans in closer to the window. He passes the rifle to Carol, who stands a few steps behind him, and presses his finger against the glass. "Right there," he says.

Carol and Birdie both take their turns peering through the scope on the gun, checking out the van and the surrounding area. "It's been there a while," Carol comments.

"It's definitely one of 'em," Birdie adds, lowering the rifle and passing it back to Carol.

"It's definitely some kinda lead," Daryl agrees.

"Then let's follow it. We're wastin' time here, anyway," Birdie murmurs.

They fill up their canteens from the water dispenser in the conference room and make their way downstairs, heading out in the same way they came in. A door locked with a chain and a padlock blocks their way, but they're able to get it open enough for them to slide through the gap with little struggle. Carol slides through first, and Birdie is right behind her.

Then, "Birdie don't," Carol suddenly says.

But Birdie is already through the door and Daryl's right behind her when they hear the cocking of a gun. A young man, taller than each of them, stands in front of a tent, presumably one with walkers inside, based on the incessant snarling. He has Carol's gun in his hands, his aim shifting between the three of them.

"Get up. Hands up, all of you," the man orders. Despite the firmness of his voice and the weapon in his hands, he looks more nervous than anything else, especially when Daryl stands up with his crossbow in hand. The man looks up and down anxiously. "Lay down your crossbow," he says, sounding much younger than before.

"You got some sack on you," Daryl grumbles.

"Look, nobody has to get hurt. We just need weapons, that's it," the man stammers.

"We?" Birdie questions. The man alone is the only person in their sight.

He shakes his head and takes a shaky breath. "I," he corrects. "I need the weapons. So please lay down your crossbow."

With a glare darker than the night and a truckload of reluctance, Daryl lays his crossbow down on the ground. The last thing he wants is to give this kid his crossbow, but the man is the one with the gun, and Daryl can't lose another person, let alone two, and especially not Birdie and Carol. They'll just have to do without.

"Back up!" the man shouts. Carol, Birdie, and Daryl back against the door, watching as the man reaches down to grab Daryl's crossbow and slings it over his shoulder. He's sloppy with his movements, his steps less than graceful. He doesn't know what he's doing, and it's obvious to everyone but him. "Sorry about this," he murmurs. "You look tough. You'll be alright." He then slides his knife through the fabric of the walker-filled tents.

As Daryl pulls out his hunting knife and focuses on killing the walkers with Carol, Birdie keeps her attention on the man. He crouches down behind the second tent, and when he stands back up again he no longer has the gun. A second later, a girl stands up, her head bowed as she fidgets with the gun now in her hands. The two of them vanish around the corner without sparing another glance back at Daryl, Birdie, or Carol.

Once the walkers are all dead, Daryl, Birdie, and Carol chase after the man and the girl along with him, but they come up empty. They're not getting their weapons back. They'll just have to go on without them, because they're not giving up now.

♡

Without their weapons, Daryl, Birdie, and Carol find their way to the van at the edge of the bridge. Inside, they don't find much of anything, except for three letters written on nearly every piece of equipment. GMH. It stands for Grady Memorial Hospital, according to Carol, which makes sense of all the medical equipment stashed inside the van.

A small victory, sure, finding that GMH in the van, but the victory doesn't last. Before they know it, a small hoard of walkers traps them inside, teetering on the edge of the bridge. Without their weapons, they can't fight them, so their only option is to buckle up and hope they survive the fall. Luckily, they do, even though the weakest part of Daryl wished he wouldn't have. They're injured, sure, but alive. Alive and able to keep on searching.

After abandoning the van, they find a spot in another deserted office building, two or three blocks away from Grady Memorial. On the fifth floor, they're able to see across to the hospital, and sure enough, there are three more vans parked in the lot with that same white symbol painted on the back windows.

While Carol and Daryl sit on the window sill, watching the hospital and waiting to see if anyone comes in or out of it, Birdie sits alone in the next room over, washing off the little cuts she got from the shattered glass windshield when the van toppled off the bridge.

The water stings ever so slightly, but not enough to cause any real reaction. It burns just the same as tears in Birdie's eyes, welling up in her waterline and squeezing her throat.

Birdie doesn't know what it is, at first, that's suddenly tearing up her insides. Why now? She's been hurting, aching, burning to ash ever since she found Daryl at Terminus without Juniper by his side. So why now, when they're in the city with a mission to focus on, does she suddenly feel like breaking?

Maybe it's the fact that Daryl won't say Juniper's name. Or the fact that he won't talk about her at all, no matter how many times Birdie brings her up. Or that she feels alone in her belief that Juni could still be alive out there somewhere. Or that they're spending days searching the city for Beth, because Daryl believes there's a chance of Beth being alive, but they haven't searched the woods for June because Daryl is so sure that she's dead.

Part of Birdie wonders if Daryl knows more than he's been letting on. Is he refusing to search for her because he's terrified of finding her body, or could he have already found her body and be refusing to say it out loud?

A thousand possible explanations for Daryl's refusal to talk about June run through Birdie's brain like a stampede, ripping down and breaking through anything in its way. More than anything, she just wants him to talk to her. He's always been like this; walled off and hardened, acting as if emotions are poison and feelings are death itself. But this is their daughter. He can't stay quiet forever, can he?

Birdie doesn't know, and right now, she's not sure if she'll be able to stick around long enough to find out.

She sits with her back against the wall, her hand over her mouth in a futile attempt to silence her crying. Moments later, Daryl appears by her side, carefully prying the canteen out of her grip and using it to wash off the rest of her wounds.

"You said it didn't hurt that bad," he whispers unsurely.

If Birdie had it in her, she would scoff, but she can't bring herself to. Instead, she only shakes her head. "I don't understand you, Daryl," is all she can get herself to say.

Now finished washing off her cuts, Daryl sets the canteen on the floor and presses his back against the wall next to her. He picks at the skin around his thumbnail anxiously. "What's that mean?" he asks. Of course, he knows what it means, but he doesn't know what it means right now—where it's coming from.

"It means that our daughter is missing and we're not lookin' for her. She's gone and you won't talk about her. Every time I say her name, it's like ya can't hear me," Birdie explains through tears, her voice cracking with nearly every word.

Daryl's face remains still, but he keeps picking at his thumb, peeling at the skin until it stings and blood starts to pool around his nail.

"See? You won't even talk about her now, Daryl," Birdie says. She pushes herself away from the wall, facing Daryl and forcing him to look her in the eyes. "She's fuckin' gone. And we could find her. I know we could, if we looked for long enough. Those woods ain't that big, Daryl, but you don't wanna search 'em because what? You're scared of what you'll find? She could still be out there, lost and wonderin' where her daddy is and why he's not there to save her!"

"You didn't see what I saw, Bird," Daryl says. His head tilts lower, his eyes squeezed shut.

"I didn't see what you saw, but I know you didn't see a body," Birdie says. She pulls the hand he's been picking at this thumb with into her grasp and squeezes tight enough for it to hurt. "Unless you've been lying to me."

"I ain't lyin'," Daryl scoffs, shaking his head.

"Then you found her name and some blood. You don't even know if the blood is hers. She could've gotten away."

"It's her we're talkin' about, Birdie!" Daryl nearly shouts. Tears are squeezing at his throat now, too, and he feels like he's suffocating.

"Who?" Birdie asks. She stares right into Daryl's eyes challengingly. He looks weaker than she's ever seen him before. "Say her name, Daryl." He doesn't. He just chews at the inside of his lip. "You won't say her name. Why? 'Cause you feel guilty? 'Cause you know she'd be out there lookin' for you for the rest of her life if it was you who was missing?"

Daryl's silence is loud and cowardly, and even he knows it. He just can't bring himself to search for Juni's body, because he knows that what he'll find is a walker. He doesn't want the last time he sees her to be him seeing her dead. But, God, the sight of her scared on the other side of that fence isn't any good either, and it's seared into his memory.

A thought pops into his head. Suddenly, he remembers that he can see her face again.

Swallowing back the lump in his throat, Daryl reaches into the inside pocket of his vest and pulls out the two slips of paper stored in it. Both papers are folded up, so he unfolds them. The first is his favorite. Juniper's first school photo from kindergarten—the one where she looks like she's really scared of cameras, her smile crooked and her blue eyes as wide as they can get. A small smile creeps across Daryl's lips, but tears still threaten to fall from his eyes.

Birdie leans in, her head against Daryl's shoulder, and stares at the photo in his hand. She smiles, too, taking the photograph from his hand with a soft giggle. "Look at her," she whispers, her thumb brushing over Juni's cheek. "She was so blonde. Her hair's gettin' darker every year, just like yours. God. She used to love that dress."

"She liked it 'cause you picked it. Cried for an hour when I told her it was too small for her," Daryl reminisces.

"She's such a sweetheart. Don't know where she gets it from."

"Me neither."

After handing the school photo back to Daryl, Birdie takes the second paper from his hand and unfolds it. It has Daryl's sloppy handwriting on it and a little note for June.

JUNE

I'M PROUD OF YOU FOR BEING STRONG
AND GOING TO SCHOOL TODAY EVEN
THOUGH YOU WERE SCARED. MAYBE
TOMORROW YOU CAN DO IT WITHOUT
CRYING. YOU'RE GETTING BRAVER
EVERY DAY. HAVE A GOOD DAY

DADDY

P.S. MERLE WAS JUST BEING AN ASS
YOU'RE TOUGHER THAN YOU KNOW

Birdie sits up a little, raising her eyebrows at Daryl. "What's this?"

Daryl's eyes are wet and glassy, and he gnaws on his lip some more before answering. "She wouldn't go to school for a lil' while. She wouldn't get outta the car, and when I forced her, she'd just keep goin' to the nurse, pretendin' to be sick until they called me to pick her up. The school shrink or whatever told me to put notes in her lunch, so I did."

"You never told me about this," Birdie says with a slight frown.

"Didn't want you to worry 'bout her," Daryl mumbles with a shrug.

"That's sweet." Birdie leans against his shoulder again and reads the note a second time. "Why'd you keep it?" she asks.

"Flip it over."

On the other side of the note, there's a different person's handwriting—handwriting Birdie would recognize anywhere. She used to get letters every few weeks in this handwriting. It's messy and full of spelling errors. It's Juni's.

DADDY

I LOV YUO

LOV JUNE

Birdie can't help but laugh, a tear slipping down her cheek. "She's always been a God-awful speller," she says through a chuckle. "Reading the letters she always sent was like tryin' to read French or somethin'. I swear."

Daryl laughs, looking over at Birdie. "Bet you wish I'd read her diary now, huh? Then we'd know if she ever got any better."

"No, you asshole." Birdie rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "How's she s'posed to have any secrets if you go on reading her diary?"

Honestly, Birdie expects Daryl to argue like he did back at the prison, but he doesn't. He gets all quiet again, like he's got something on his mind that he won't dare say out loud. But Birdie isn't the type of person to ignore it when someone is holding something back—especially not when it's Daryl who is holding something back. So, she nudges him with her elbow and hums in a questioning tone, wordlessly asking what's wrong.

At first, Daryl hesitates. Or maybe the words are getting stuck in his throat. Either way, he doesn't say anything until Birdie nudges him again, pushing further. Then, he finally whispers, "You keep saying things like she's still here, Bird."

Now, it's Birdie's turn to get all quiet, but it's not because she's holding anything back. She just needs enough time to sort through her thoughts in her mind so she can explain them properly. When she's ready, she explains it.

"I know I do. Because I believe she is, Daryl. I really do. I don't know why. It's just... I feel it. Maybe it's stupid, maybe I'm wrong, but I feel it. Like I can hear her heart beatin' in my head, no matter how far away." Daryl wants to stop her. He wants to tell her that it's just blind hope, that it's her mind playing tricks on her, but he doesn't. He can't bring himself to. So she continues. "I was with Lizzie, Mika, and Judith. Carol, Tyreese, and I were holin' up in some house we found in a clearing in the woods. We thought it was safe, but Lizzie... Somethin' was wrong with that girl, Daryl, and we didn't help her in any of the ways we should've. I don't know if anyone ever did. And we lost her and her sister because of it, and nearly lost Judith, too. I failed those girls. I can't take losin' another one. Not JJ. I know she's alive. I know she is."

Daryl almost argues, desperate to pull Birdie back into the reality he's living in, but before any words can slip from his mouth, there's a sudden and loud bang from somewhere else in the building, and the two of them shoot up to their feet. Carol joins them a few seconds later, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

"What the hell was that?" Birdie asks, knowing none of them have an answer.

"Let's go and find out," Carol says.

With Daryl leading the charge, the three of them make their way down the stairwell, in the direction of where the sound had come from. They can hear some snarling coming from down a hall, and then there's another bang.

When they get to the end of the hall, they see a walker pinned up against the wall with a bolt through its neck, slamming its hands against the wall and causing the banging noise. The bolt holding it there looks incredibly familiar.

"Is that yours?" Carol asks.

"Yeah," Daryl answers before slicing a machete through the walker's skull, doing the job the bolt failed to do and silencing it for good. He rips the bolt from the walker's neck with a disgusting squelch.

Suddenly, they hear the sound of rapid gunfire echoing from down another hallway, and Birdie nearly jumps out of her skin. "Does this kid got a brain? What the hell's he doing?" she spits.

Carol starts following the source of the gunfire, and Daryl and Birdie follow along a few steps behind her. She turns a corner, out of Daryl and Birdie's sight for just one second, but it's long enough for the person with the gun—presumably the same man from earlier—to shove a walker in her direction. With her shoulder injured from riding the van off of the bridge earlier, Carol can't fight back against it. The walker tackles her to the ground and she lets out a yelp of pain. Just before the walker can bite right into Carol's neck, Birdie sticks her knife through the back of its head.

Daryl reaches down and Carol grabs his hand, letting him help her get back up again. It's a lot harder than it would be if they hadn't gotten into that van earlier. "I'm good," Carol tells him. "You two go."

It doesn't take any convincing for Daryl and Birdie to leave Carol to catch her breath. They rush into the next room over, where they saw the man run. They're getting their weapons back, at the very least, especially after that little walker stunt.

The kid isn't very good at hiding, and neither is the girl he's with. They both pant loudly, trying to catch their breath, and soon, they both start to grunt, clearly doing some kind of physical labor that neither of them is strong enough to be doing. Daryl and Birdie follow the sounds of their voices down a dark hallway with papers scattered all over the floor. At the end of the hall, they see the man and the girl trying to push a bookshelf away from a door.

Without a second of hesitation, Daryl runs up behind the man and slams him into the bookshelf, causing it to topple over on top of the two and trap them underneath. Daryl and Birdie spot the gun and the crossbow left on the floor and help themselves to them.

"Plea—please. I had to protect myself. I had to protect my friend!" the man stammers.

The girl is trapped fully underneath the bookcase, trying her hardest to worm her way out from the other side.

"Why're you followin' us?!" Daryl growls.

"We—we didn't! I swear. We thought you followed us!"

"Bullshit." Daryl finds a box of cigarettes in the pile of fallen items from the shelf and pulls one from the pack, bringing it up to his lips and lighting it.

"Come on, man! Please! Please!" the man begs.

"Please!" the girl adds in, still trying to crawl out from the bookshelf on the other side. Her foot is stuck under the bottom of it, digging into her ankle, and it hurts like hell. "We're just kids! Please don't just leave us here!"

"Nah. I a'ready helped you once. It ain't happenin' again. You'll get out eventually," Daryl mutters. Birdie's stomach churns. She doesn't feel right about this, and by the look on Carol's face, it doesn't seem like she does, either. But Daryl still nods his head in the direction of a walker trying to squeeze its way into the room through the cracked door. "Have fun with Hoss over there."

Daryl walks off, leaving the two trapped under the bookcase and begging for their lives.

"Daryl. Daryl," Carol calls out unsurely.

"Daryl?" the girl's voice murmurs questioningly.

"Daryl, stop," Birdie shouts at him.

An irritated look on his face, Daryl spins around once again. He jabs a finger in the man's direction. "Carol almost died 'cause of him!"

"But I didn't!" Carol shouts.

"Hey! Your name's Daryl?!" the girl calls out, but her voice is ignored in the chaos of the moment.

"Nah. Let him be," Daryl still says decidedly. Again, he turns away and starts to walk off, ignoring Carol and Birdie as they call for him to stop and wait for a second.

The walker in the doorway slips through the cracked open door and falls onto the bookcase, snapping its jaws at the man underneath. Just as it's about to sink its teeth into the man's face, Daryl suddenly spins around and sends a bolt through its skull, killing it instantly. And despite how much he wants to leave the two kids behind, Daryl just can't bring himself to do it. With Birdie's help, he lifts the bookshelf off of them and lets them crawl out from beneath.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you," the man pants as he's set free.

The girl, though, only jumps to her feet and stares. She stares right at Daryl, her eyes wide and jaw falling open. Daryl raises an eyebrow at her, and she suddenly grabs him by the shoulder, pulling him hard. He turns to the side just long enough for the girl to see the back of his vest before he shoves her off of him.

"Get the hell off a' me," Daryl spits.

"Dark hair, the vest, the crossbow," the girl mutters to herself.

Daryl and Birdie share a confused glance. "What's your problem?" Daryl questions, his face sour.

"You're Juniper's dad!" What? What the hell could this girl possibly know about Juni? How could she know about Daryl? It doesn't make any sense. Not until her next words spill out of her mouth, anyway. "She's stuck at the hospital with Beth! You can help us get them out of there!"

Birdie and Daryl's hearts practically fall out of their chests.

Junebug is alive.

🪲

back to juni next chapter i promise🤞

(guys i typed the word "rose" in the first paragraph and a wave of genuine physical pain washed through my body. i miss my girl)