If they're crazy, then it's like she always told herself when Teleios seemed too good to be true: it's the good kind. They both know enough about life and how hard and exhausting it can be, how it piles weight after weight on your back until you think you can't go on anymore and then, somehow, you can't seem to stop putting one foot in front of the other. Something like this, like they built in Teleios, their home, if that kind of relative happiness is crazy then sanity can take a flying Goddamn leap.
Huffing, she shakes her head in mock disappointment. "You're just the worst," she says, and then practically jumps into his arms. There'd be a kiss here, and a good one too, but she's actually crying a little now as she clings to him with a desperation that would be embarrassing if she weren't sure his feelings on the matter echo hers. Not tears of grief, of course, but the way she'll cry when he runs to embrace her outside Terminus, if she ever goes back, not that she knows that yet. Crying because her relief and joy and gratitude is so immense that something had to give, and with Daryl here and whole and with at least the important memories intact she's sure as hell not going to sacrifice her hold on him.
"I thought..." Well, it's obvious what she thought. They'd both been ready for that, to leave Teleios and have those two years-and-change vanish utterly. She couldn't decide which would be worse: going back to the shell of a person she was after Lizzy and Terminus, or having to pretend to. But she doesn't have to do either, and it's the closest she's come to thanking any God that might be out there for anything in so, so long. Maybe there will be awkward explanations to make at some point to someone or another about it, but at least she won't be facing it alone. In so many ways nothing has really changed for them in this strange new place where they don't know the rules or have any alliances to help them out, their family isn't whole. But now, for her, what felt insurmountable a few moments ago is suddenly a piece of cake by comparison, because if this can happen, if life or fate or whatever decided to grant them the space and chance to find each other yet again in spite of the astronomical odds, then by God anything is possible.
Burrowing her face into the crook of his neck, she lets out a puff of laughter that's almost a sob. It feels stupid, selfish, to be so relieved about this when having him here and safe would already be more than she deserves, and how many times did she tell herself that it didn't matter as long as they had each other somehow? No denying it anymore, which feels oddly freeing in itself.
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Huffing, she shakes her head in mock disappointment. "You're just the worst," she says, and then practically jumps into his arms. There'd be a kiss here, and a good one too, but she's actually crying a little now as she clings to him with a desperation that would be embarrassing if she weren't sure his feelings on the matter echo hers. Not tears of grief, of course, but the way she'll cry when he runs to embrace her outside Terminus, if she ever goes back, not that she knows that yet. Crying because her relief and joy and gratitude is so immense that something had to give, and with Daryl here and whole and with at least the important memories intact she's sure as hell not going to sacrifice her hold on him.
"I thought..." Well, it's obvious what she thought. They'd both been ready for that, to leave Teleios and have those two years-and-change vanish utterly. She couldn't decide which would be worse: going back to the shell of a person she was after Lizzy and Terminus, or having to pretend to. But she doesn't have to do either, and it's the closest she's come to thanking any God that might be out there for anything in so, so long. Maybe there will be awkward explanations to make at some point to someone or another about it, but at least she won't be facing it alone. In so many ways nothing has really changed for them in this strange new place where they don't know the rules or have any alliances to help them out, their family isn't whole. But now, for her, what felt insurmountable a few moments ago is suddenly a piece of cake by comparison, because if this can happen, if life or fate or whatever decided to grant them the space and chance to find each other yet again in spite of the astronomical odds, then by God anything is possible.
Burrowing her face into the crook of his neck, she lets out a puff of laughter that's almost a sob. It feels stupid, selfish, to be so relieved about this when having him here and safe would already be more than she deserves, and how many times did she tell herself that it didn't matter as long as they had each other somehow? No denying it anymore, which feels oddly freeing in itself.