my tears ricochet

Chapter Thirteen

It takes practise, telling himself that Ivy's alright. She's not scared of him. That Daryl won't make her learn to be scared.

It takes a certain kind of strength of trust a virtual stranger, especially one that she just met at the end of the world, with her own kind of history bunched up between them both. Daryl can't do a thing about her past but he tries where he can, keeping an eye out for books to bring back with squirrels and rabbits like a prize, dropping them onto her lap at night where the others couldn't see.

He recognizes the covers and can tell that she swaps them freely between Beth and Maggie, sharing in what she has to give. That takes a strength, in being kind. Daryl has no hand in it and knows he can't teach her the art of it. Whatever he has to offer, that isn't it. His brother had taught him the things he had learned from their father, stomping out weakness with ruthless love, forcing Daryl to grow up stronger, to survive the blows. Kindness might have crippled him when he was growing up and Merle would have killed him first for that.

If Ivy had been a boy, he might have had to do the same. Somehow it's different with a girl, with an idea of a daughter. He wants that kindness in her to last her a lifetime, as long as she can hold onto it, so that she might look backwards and know something good existed. That violence hadn't been the thing to shape her hand, hadn't altered her actions.

It's been too long since he knew how to be kind. All that had been smothered out by darkness, Merle's hands hauling him out into the night when he held a fistful of blood from a bleeding nose.

That had been trying, his brother managing to stand on his own feet while keeping a hold on Daryl at the same time.

Ivy pretends she isn't scared of anything and Daryl lets her, as long as he can keep her from fearing him in turn. That's why he leans close to Lori when she'd braiding her hair back tight, patiently finger combing tangles out without making the girl flinch, stroking with gentleness. He can't do much, but as long as he's here, he'll try. In this world it might be better to cut the hair short so no one can grab it but he doesn't know if he can be the one to make that call.

She's what he was, a different reflection from the same kind of fist. The world can't last forever but he'll give her as long as he can. Kindness isn't something he can teach but he's strong enough to guard her heart. Strong enough to fumble with strands of hair, trying to mimic Lori's quick turns of a hand, binding a rope of blonde and gold.

The season is turning quick and he has to move faster. It doesn't matter how strong the farm house looks, all walls can cave in.

He can see her on the front porch with Beth, legs folded up beneath her as they try to share a book between them, one of Maggie's from the look of it. The house is crowded with people moving in, dividing living space into sleeping space, taking a home and turning it to a refuge.

Rick's taking his sweet time gathering up supplies and going over the plans with Hershel and Lori so Daryl goes over his arrows and checks for imperfections, signs of weakness. His brother had been the one better at crafting arrows from scratch, once spending a summer when they were younger making a working bow balanced perfectly and strong enough to bring down a buck before their father burned it in spite. Whatever skill Daryl has is an imitation of what he tried to learn but it's enough for now. Winter is coming and that means long nights with time to build a stock of arrows to replenish what's been lost along the way.

"You good with this?" Rick asked, coming up on his left. It's different, still, seeing the man without a uniform, that blood Sheriff's shirt forgotten somewhere else. Some blood can't wash out.

Daryl grunted, setting aside the arrows. "Wish I had my piece."

Someone had stolen it from his bike and he didn't think it was Ivy. She seemed content in her switchblade and she hadn't been shy showing him the handgun she had actually stolen from the RV. Her aim was fairly good at targets and he'd been the one to get into practise of carrying a few extra bullets for her gun just in case she ever ran out in a pinch.