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This is my first time uploading a fanfiction, and it's also my first Beth x Daryl fanfiction that I've ever written, so if you guys want to leave reviews or comments, that would be great! :) I will be updating this story at least once a week, possibly more frequently than that; it all depends on if school is nice to me or not. I hope you guys enjoy the story!
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Beth came sprinting out of the prison, her breathing rapid. Her eyes were wild, bloodshot from her weeping; her tears had left streaks through the grime on her cheeks. She stopped in the middle of the yard, looking around quickly; she couldn't see anyone, and it looked like the bus had left. Where was Maggie? Surely she wouldn't have just left without her. Beth turned, her boots thudding loudly against the cracked pavement; around her, Walkers snarled and snatched at her, but she managed to evade the wild grabs they made.
An explosion drew her attention towards her right; struggling to catch her breath even as she continued running, Beth rounded a corner to find Daryl with his crossbow aimed at the man who had been driving the tank. She flinched as he shot an arrow into the man's chest, and was certain it had pierced his heart; Daryl turned towards her as she ran up, his crossbow already raised and ready to fire again.
"I was tryin' to find the kids to get them on the bus." she told him breathlessly, by way of an explanation for his bewildered expression. He had flecks of blood on his cheeks, but didn't seem aware of this fact; that, or he simply didn't care. He regarded her solemnly, while Beth's eyes couldn't help but flicker to the Walkers surrounding them, her heart pounding anxiously in her chest.
"We gotta go, Beth. We gotta go." he insisted. With one last glance cast over her shoulder towards the prison, she nodded ever-so slightly; he stooped and yanked his arrow free from the man's chest with a grunt of effort, and the two of them turned and raced off the lot, soon vanishing into the shelter of the forest that surrounded the place they had called home for so long.
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Beth walked along slowly in Daryl's wake; the older man had barely said five words to her after they had fled the prison, but she wasn't all that surprised. He had never been much of a talker, not really; the man was an enigma to basically everybody at the prison. No one, besides Carol of course, had seemed that close to him; although people had speculated that he and Carol had been a thing, there had never been a confirmation of any sort of relationship between the two.
She couldn't help but feel a little guilty; she should be mourning the loss of her father, but she knew right now was not the best time. They all had jobs to do, right? Well...they had. Before the Governor came in and destroyed everything they had worked so hard for. She could feel her heart begin to pound faster and harder in her chest at the thought of that man; hot tears pricked at her eyes and she blinked them away furiously. Everybody thought of her as a kid and nothing more, so she certainly wasn't going to cry in front of Daryl; not here and not now.
"You okay back there?" Daryl said suddenly, almost as though he had picked up on her thoughts; Beth glanced up sharply. He wasn't even looking at her; in fact, his gaze was focused intently ahead, his crossbow held in both hands at the ready. She studied the wings on the back of his vest intently, trying to distract her mind long enough to answer him. She didn't want her voice cracking when she responded.
"Yeah, I'm fine." she answered shortly, not trusting her voice to reply with more than those three words. She found it odd that they hadn't yet come across any Walkers; but then, they were likely all on their way to the prison by now, what with all the noise they'd made. She lowered her gaze from the man's back to the ground before her, kicking a few crumpled, damp leaves aside.
The road they were walking on was quite narrow, the pavement cracked and broken, potholes littering the surface. Leaves and trash were scattered everywhere, and ahead, she could see a Walker lying in the middle of the street; its head had been smashed in, and its brains were splattered across the ground. She crinkled her nose in disgust as they reached in, stepping around the mess; probably giving a wider birth than was necessary.
Daryl didn't look like he was hurt, but then, that wasn't much of a surprise. She couldn't remember many times that he had been hurt, other than the time he'd stabbed himself with his own arrow. His clothes were filthy, but that was to be expected; the bottoms of his dark jeans - as they were too long - were covered in dried mud and what could have been blood. His dark button-up shirt was worn and grimy, probably soaked many times over with sweat; the sleeves were long gone, the edges frayed, but Beth couldn't tell if they'd been torn off or cut off. As usual, he wore his vest with the angel wings over the shirt; she couldn't remember a time that she hadn't seen him wearing it. His hair had grown longer than she remembered, clinging to the back of his neck because of sweat. If he looked so dirty and unkempt, she hated to imagine what she looked like.
"Beth? Hey, I'm talkin' to ya." Daryl snapped; she blinked and looked up at his face, narrowly avoiding crashing into him. She hadn't even realized he'd stopped walking, much less registered that he was speaking. She could feel a flush of color rise in her cheeks in embarrassment, and almost stuttered out an apology, when she realized it would likely be wasted on him. He wouldn't want an apology; he was all about getting to the point.
"Yeah, I'm listenin'. What is it?" she asked sheepishly; her words were contradicting, but she didn't care what he thought right then. She had a reason to be spaced out; she was keeping herself distracted, not letting her thoughts wander...
"It's startin' to get dark. We should find a place to hole up in for the night." he suggested; he was talking slowly, as though she was hard of hearing or something. She scowled up at him, not appreciating being treated as though she was stupid. Glancing around, all she could see to either side were trees.
"There's nowhere around here to go to." she pointed out; it was her turn to act as though he was an idiot. His eyes narrowed as he assessed her calmly; like her, he didn't take kindly to it. He fiddled with the strap of his crossbow, unable to argue this fact; but Beth wished she wasn't right. She didn't fancy the idea of being caught out in the open when the darkness fell.
"Let's just keep walkin', maybe we'll find a place." he grumbled, turning and walking away without waiting for her response. Beth stood there, uncertain; she wanted to go back to the prison, even though she knew how foolish that was. It would be overrun by now. No, there was no sense in looking back; so she jogged to catch up to him, and took to walking at his side this time, feeling much safer in his presence.
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In their walking, they had come across a pathway that cut through the woods; it was more narrow than the road, just two thin dirt treks through the grass. It looked as though it had been used for four-wheelers at some point, but now the grass in the middle had grown so long that Beth couldn't even walk in it because it was past her waist. She took to the left track while Daryl walked the right one; her gun had long since run out of ammo, so she kept her knife clutched tightly in one hand. She would occasionally sneak glances at the man walking at her side; he was so intently focused on the path ahead of them, his steps silent and his aim with his crossbow never wavering. She felt obnoxiously noisy compared to him; it seemed every step she took, a twig snapped or she kicked a loose rock, sending it skittering off into the brush.
Beth's stomach rumbled noisily and she felt heat rise into her cheeks once more, quickly placing a hand over her mid-section and glancing over at Daryl again. She thought she saw his eyes flicker in her direction, but she couldn't be sure; and she averted her gaze to avoid further embarrassment. To be fair, she hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning, and after getting used to having regular meals every day, her stomach was bound to protest at this new development. As she mulled this over, she spotted something out of the corner of her eye, and instinctively turned towards it.
"Daryl, look." she said, lifting her hand from her stomach to point.
A tiny cabin sat a few feet off the path they were walking along. It looked more like a hut than anything else, and the little walkway that led up to it had overgrown ages ago. It looked to be a one-room house, and certainly only had one floor; three rotten wooden steps led up to the front door, a simple fixture with one of the four glass panes it possessed smashed in. The windows were covered in dirt and dust, so thick that she could've drawn in it if she'd wanted to; they weren't boarded up though. The place looked as though it had been deserted even before everything went to shit.
Daryl lifted one hand to press a finger against his cracked lips, before stepping soundlessly over to her side of the path and then making his way up towards the cabin; Beth trailed along in his wake, sneaking nervous looks towards the woods that pressed in uncomfortably close on either side. The sun had begun to sink further towards the horizon, casting long shadows that danced in the wind, creating false images of movement in the trees packed so densely together. When they reached the cabin, Daryl crept up the stairs to the tiny porch, crouching slightly to peer through the shattered pane.
"It's empty." he confirmed, reaching for the doorknob. The door opened without complaint, despite an obvious lack of use; glass crunched beneath the soles of their shoes as they stepped into the tiny house.
It was indeed a one-room structure, unless one counted the miniscule washroom. The floor was hardwood, though it was nearly invisible beneath mounds of trash and discarded things; the walls had not been painted, and had only been white drywall, which was now chipped and beginning to fall apart. Very little light managed to penetrate the grime that coated the windows, though Beth soon spotted a heavy metal flashlight lying on the floor. She crouched down and picked it up, testing the switch; the light flickered a few times before it struggled into existence, illuminating the rest of the cabin.
To the right of the door, a long counter ran the length of the wall; and at the end, tucked into the top right-hand corner of the room, there was a small fridge. The door to this lay ajar, and the light had given out long ago; the interior had been picked clean, likely by scavengers. The cupboards looked as though they had remained untouched, which made her a bit hopeful. In the top left-hand corner of the room, there was a narrow cot with a stainless steel frame, a lumpy mattress, no pillows, and two thin, moth-eaten blankets; there was a small wooden nightstand next to the bed, holding a lamp and a book that had been read so many times that she couldn't even make out the title on the worn cover. There was a plush armchair in the corner closest to the door to the left, covered in a floral print; some of the cover had been torn away, to allow some of the yellowed stuffing to fall out onto the floor. In the very middle of the opposite wall, there was a door that led into the bathroom; most of the space was occupied by a tub, which Beth assumed had been white at one point but was now yellow with filth; there was also a toilet and a sink, with a medicine cabinet above it.
"This will do." Beth said; she didn't have high standards, and was all too pleased to have a somewhat-safe place to stay for the night. Daryl moved aside and closed the door behind them; he didn't bother to lock the door. It wouldn't do much good against people, who could simply reach through the broken pane and unlock it; and Walkers couldn't open doors. He glanced around the room before making his way over to the tiny kitchen, crouching down and opening one of the cupboard doors, the one directly under the sink. She watched him, a bit curious about what he might be looking for; when he came back out, he was holding a small lantern with an LED light. He moved to settle the lantern on the bedside table, pressing a small red button on the device; it, too, flickered a few times before it came to life, shedding a somewhat harsh glow around the entire cabin.
"Turn off that flashlight, save it in case we need it later." he advised, and Beth immediately clicked the flashlight off. She moved over to where he was standing by the table, and he didn't move aside; she had to lean around him to set the flashlight on the surface at his back. She could not help but to be aware of the proximity; she had never been so close to this man before, and he was a bit intimidating. She quickly moved to lean away, but he caught her by her upper arm; eyes wide, she looked up at him in confusion, only for him to brush his thumb over her cheek. He brought it away bloody, and she lifted a hand to her cheek in surprise, finding a cut just below her eye. It didn't seem too bad, which was a relief, but his actions startled her nonetheless.
"I'll, uh, go see if there's any food." she said, turning hastily and walking over to the kitchen.
After a thorough search of the cupboards and their contents, she managed to find only one can of beef soup. This was certainly better than nothing, but with no way of heating it up, it looked like they would be having a cold dinner. She wasn't able to find a can opener, so she managed to pry the lid off with her knife after some determined sawing; Daryl, meanwhile, rummaged around in the bathroom like he was actually expecting to find something useful. She did manage to locate two small white ceramic bowls and white plastic spoons in a small baggie, and dished the cold soup out accordingly.
"Hey, the water works here!" Daryl exclaimed from inside the bathroom. Beth hurried over to the door with both bowls clutched in her hands; peering around the door frame, she found Daryl had been tinkering underneath the sink and now there was water running out of the faucet. She never thought she'd be so happy to see running water!
"That's great! Oh, I found some soup. The stove doesn't work but it's already pre-cooked and everything, so I figured it's better than nothin'." she said, smiling as she held a bowl out to him. She had given him more than her, naturally; he was much bigger than her and she assumed that meant he needed more food than she did. He gave her an odd look before taking the bowl, and she took this as a silent thanks; before moving to settle onto the edge of the bed. It was hard and uncomfortable, and she could feel nearly every spring; but it was still a bed. Daryl took a seat in the armchair, after swiveling it towards her; laying his crossbow over his lap as he dug into the food.
"I'm sorry 'bout your dad." Daryl said halfway through his soup. Beth felt her fingers clench around her spoon; blinking a few times to clear the sudden tears away, she saw the crimson blossoming on the collar of Hershel's shirt yet again.
"Thanks." she mumbled, turning away slightly; and they lapsed into silence yet again.
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A few hours later found Daryl and Beth bickering over who would sleep where. Beth insisted that he take the bed, but he wouldn't hear of it; though he didn't seem to be able to come up with any good reason as to why she absolutely had to have it. Eventually, tired of the arguing, Beth simply gave up and threw herself onto the bed; balling up one of the blankets, she hurled it at him before she rolled over to face the wall.
She heard the creak of the springs as Daryl lowered himself once more into the armchair, and the rustling of fabric as he spread the blanket over himself. Even the sound of his heavy crossbow as he set it down on the floor. She peeked over her shoulder to see him tying the strap around his wrist, before quickly rolling back over, not wanting him to think she was spying on him.
Long after Daryl had slipped away into an uneasy sleep, Beth found herself still lying awake in the bed. Not only could she not get comfortable, but every time she dared to close her eyes, she saw Michonne's sword as it swung in an arc down towards Hershel's neck; which always brought her out of her half-asleep state with a shock. Too restless to lie still any longer, she pushed herself upright; and Daryl's vest slipped down off the end of the bed to land with a quiet thump on the floor. She stared at it, bemused; she hadn't even noticed the man had taken it off. He never took it off. Turning to look at him, she confirmed this; he was slumped over in the armchair, snoring softly with one hand curled around the strap of his crossbow. A muscle in his arm twitched as his hand clenched; clearly he was dreaming. She smiled at this thought, before leaning down and grabbing the vest from where it had fallen to the floor. The fabric was rough under her fingertips, and she turned it over in her hands to trace the outline of the angel wings on the back, before laying it back down on the bed.
It seemed that another hour passed, to find Beth still lying awake in bed; her knife was set on the bedside table, next to the lantern, which Daryl had switched off before taking the armchair. Her gaze landed on the vest again; she could feel the weight of it pressing against her leg. With a soft sigh, she turned around in the bed and pulled her blanket up over herself again, so that her head was resting near the foot of the bed, next to the vest. After a pause, she scuttled a bit closer to it and laid her head against the fabric; Daryl's scent clung to it, a sweet and sour sort of mix - his usual, pleasant scent combined with the foulness of sweat and dirt. She didn't mind it; actually, it quite relaxed her. She found her eyes drifting shut with ease, and instead of the images of her daddy to haunt her mind, she found her mind wandered to Daryl as she slipped off to sleep.