Author's Note: This was a one-shot I just had to write. Maybe the sweetest thing I've ever written, but they deserve something happy after all this is through. Please let me know what you think and thank you for reading!
Sight
The world is so dark now.
She means it literally, sighing as she digs her back into the soft earth, trying to get comfortable. There's nothing to brighten the night but the moon and the stars, their light barely enough to illuminate the shapes of the people beside her. She can feel Maggie and Glenn on one side of her, bodies tangled together and breath peaceful. She can sense the presence of Rick, his back rigid to their group as he scans the woods around them. She can hear the others breathing, their lungs creating a rhythm in the air around her.
Despite these reminders of togetherness, she can't help the fear that startles her, crushing her chest. It always comes on nights like this – the stillness of the dark reminds her of long, empty hallways and the way slimy hands had slid under her shirt, trying to steal something she was too afraid to name. The seconds where she had just stopped moving, heart lurching, before her life had slammed into overdrive. She wants to react the way she did then - hands able and fierce, feet sure and stable - but she feels pinned to the ground beneath her. On nights like this, she can't remember what it's like to be the Beth who had fought her way back. She feels feeble and small, staring up at the giant night sky, fear pulsing through her veins.
...
She doesn't know how long she's been rooted there before he settles himself down next to her. She closes her eyes immediately, forcibly evening out her breathing. Just like every other night, she can feel him assessing her in the darkness, making sure she is sleeping peacefully. And just like every other night, he slides his pack closer to her, arranging himself so he's facing her as his eyes slide shut. She doesn't know when this became their routine, or when she became a silent partner in it. But she doesn't want him not next to her, doesn't want to know what it would be like to not feel his solid presence through the dark.
Beth can feel his eyes dancing across her face and something other than fear roars through her blood. Throwing caution to the wind, she rolls over, meeting him nose to nose. She can feel him tense, breath stilled, and her muscles lock down in response. They stare at each other, wide eyes glinting in the moonlight. It's a stalemate, or two deer in the headlights, or maybe the calm before the storm.
Her hands – which have hurt and healed in equal measure these days – come to rest on his face before she knows what she's doing, fingers gently pressing into his cheekbones. She pauses, waiting for him to throw her off, to shrug away or offer to take Rick's spot on watch, huffing at the annoying girl who can't keep her hands to herself. But he remains still under her palms and she takes that to mean acceptance. So she greedily presses forward, tracing out what she cannot see in the darkness.
Scar under his eye from his father. Scraggly beard with more gray in it than he would ever admit. Warm lips that press into her fingers as she brushes past them. She decides it's so much better to feel than to see. To feel the flutter of his eyelashes against her fingertips. To feel his breath catching as her hands trace the veins down his neck.
She's almost finished her exploration and is planning on clamping her hands down to protect them both when he shifts, gracelessly sliding his own rough palm against her cheek. She doesn't move, afraid of scaring him off, all confidence gone in this one motion. His fingers are more hesitant than hers, yet they still stumble slowly over the planes of her face. He brushes the raised line along her eyebrow that may never go away, proof of a lonely battle hard fought. She sighs as his hand runs through her hair, catching in the wild braids and tugging just slightly. His palm ends up on her throat, thumb swiping carefully along the underside of her jaw.
Unsure of when she closed her eyes, she opens them at the lack of motion. She knows he's looking at her, can feel it in the air between them.
"I see you."
It's gruff and whispered. It shouldn't mean anything – he can't see her, it's far too dark. She knows this. But she also is so sure that she is being seen – maybe for the first time. Not just the bones and the skin but the person, the person who so many had given up on. He could see the Beth who fought her way to freedom and the Beth who night after night lied in fear of the past. He could see her heart and her mind and the dark part of her that had watched her own blood drip across a tile floor with something akin to satisfaction. And he was still here, thumb pressed against her pulse, staring at her steadily through the night.
The world isn't so dark now.