Bear with me, it's been a long time since I've written anything and I was in a dark place last night. This is what came to my mind. Forget the "claimed" group ever happened. I don't own these characters. I just manipulate as my sick and twisted little mind sees fit. I hope you enjoy.
Summary: Beth is gone and Daryl will stop at nothing to find her. But will his obsession with the hunt and the taunting voices in his mind break him or will he find the strength to carry on without her?
Give Me a Sign
He fell to the ground in defeat. She was gone and he had lost her trail.
His heart felt as though it would break. He could hear his father screaming at him in the back on his mind for losing the trail. It was the same voice he heard when he failed to find Sophia.
Ya' lazy sack a shit. Ya' couldn't track a worm in a planter. I taught ya' better 'an this, boy!
He could almost feel the belt come across his back. He could hear his brother laughing at his failure. He could see her face as she tossed him his crossbow. He could see her fear. He heard her tell him she wasn't going to leave him. And now she was gone and he had failed.
He was too focused on his defeat to stop a stray tear from falling from his eye.
Ya' brought this on ya' self. Ya' oughta be alone. Ya' couldn' protect her.
His head began to spin at the thought of actually, truly, being alone. Before the world turned to shit he would relish in the thought of being alone. Since the dead began to walk he never was alone. He always had someone with him or a group to go back to. Now, he had nothing. He hated to admit that it actually terrified him. He hated for his father's voice in his head to know he was scared and broken.
Ya actin' like a girl. Man up, boy n' get up!
He growled at the voice in his head and stood up quickly. He slipped the strap of his crossbow over his shoulder and pulled out his hunting knife. If he came across anything in these woods today, he would kill it by hand. He needed to blow off steam like he had in the country club. He needed to beat the hell out of something. He needed to find who took Beth and gut them like a deer.
"Come on, girl. Gimme a sign." He muttered as he looked around for anything that might give him a lead.
That's right, boy. Get up n' find her. Less ya wanna be alone.
Another growl escaped his throat as his pushed his legs as hard as he could. He'd run himself to death before he gave up again.
After close to an hour of almost constant jogging he heard it. Growling. Rather than sliding behind a tree to wait for the walker to slink on by, he readied his knife and crouched down into a striking pose. The walker, a girl with blonde hair, ambled her way to him and he dropped his knife. His body straightened and he let out a small gasp.
She wore a yellow shirt.
Her hair was in a sloppy pony tail.
The skin on her face was all but gone on one side.
She wore a gold necklace.
Gold.
It wasn't her. He sighed heavily and picked up the knife and plugged it into her skull. Beth's necklace wasn't gold and this was no golf tee like that one she grabbed at the country club.
That coulda been her, ya know? Cause ya couldn't save her. Couldn't find her. Just like that little girl. Baby brother, you like 'em young.
Merle's voice taunted him. His words twisted in his stomach. Beth wasn't a girl. Not anymore. But he'll be damned if he started fighting with his dead brother again. He was a distraction. He pushed his family from his mind and continued on, giving one last glance to the blonde walker laying just a few steps behind him. He wouldn't take out his anger on this one.
Daylight began to die, blackening the sky. He heard no noises in the woods and saw no path a car could have taken other than the main road. He couldn't see more than ten feet in front of him on the moonless night. He knew he had to stop and wait for the sun to come back. A chill ran down his body at the thought of leaving out there alone for a night.
He sat down against a tree, slinging his crossbow over his lap for easy access and pictured her face. Her smile, her laugh, and her determined to survive personality.
You ain't worried bout her. Yer more worried that you will be alone, baby brother. Ya' weak.
Merle sneering in his mind was not what he needed.
"Shut up, man. Ya' don' know anymore. Went n' got yourself killed." He whispered to no one. His brother didn't respond. She did.
You gotta let it go or it will kill you. Right here.
He felt her ghostly hand press on his chest over his heart.
"Beth." Was all he was able to manage as a sob rose in his chest.
You're gunna miss me so bad when I'm gone, Daryl Dixon.
"You shouldn'ta said that, girl. Shouldn'ta jinxed us. Shoulda listened to me." He whispered to her memory.
I don't need you.
"Ya do, girl. Ya got yourself taken. Need me to find ya." He responded. He waited but no response came. He was alone again. He closed his eyes and tried to rest. It would be a long, sleepless night.
Two weeks passed with no sign. He left himself fall further away from her every day. He sat up at night thinking of what he could do, what he could have done, to keep her alive. They stopped talking to him after the second day. At night, when he began to break, he wished they would come back. He wished she would whisper in his mind and he could pick apart her words and hang to each one of them.
He did not give up looking, though he was completely undone by the loss. His legs moved him forward while his eyes scanned the ground. His mind had stopped processing what he was seeing a few days ago. He looked no different than the walkers. A decaying, empty shell of a man walking around with no purpose but to kill. He found himself expending more energy than needed when he would run into a single walker. He would use every muscle in his body to obliterate the thing. That was until he ran out of food about a week ago and clean water a day ago. He didn't care about hunting for food. Not until he found something.
He had fallen apart. When he sat against a tree at night to rest he would wish the dark would never fade. He wanted to stay in the dark forever. Without her, without his group, without people to live for, he hated the light of the sun. Darkness was once again his home.
He tripped over a root from a nearby spruce tree and landed on his hands and knees. The impact caused the loaded bolt to shatter in the bow. He signed at stared at it for a long while as he tried to will himself to find the strength to get up and move.
It's killing you. Let go
He barely heard her voice in his mind but as soon as he did his throat tightened and his chest hurt.
"M'sorry, I failed ya."
When you care about someone hurt is part of the package. Let go.
"Can't."
Enjoy your snake jerky
She sneered. He was confused until he looked to his left and saw the small green animal slither by him. Without thinking he reached over and grabbed its body, its head turning and fangs sinking into the back of his hand in a failed attempt to save itself. He cussed under his breath and pulled a knife out to slice the animals head off. Once the fangs were extracted he looked up into the sky.
The sun was just beginning to fall. It was still early afternoon and he didn't want to stop until he had to. He decided to pull himself together and look for water. He was no good to her dead so he had to keep himself alive. He draped the dead animal across his neck, blood dripping down his arm, and stood up in search for anything that he could loot.
About a mile away, approximately an hour and a half later, he came across a small cabin that looked like it had been once used as a resort lodge. He doubted he would find anything in here but if it had a fire place it would work well to at least cook his catch.
He was surprised when he found the door locked which gave him a small glimmer of hope. The others were as well. He didn't see anything as he peered through the windows. He broke out a small window next to the main door and slid his hand through to unlock the door. He waited for growls before he pushed open the door. There were no sounds other than nature around him. He pushed open the door and walked into the kitchen. Everything looked completely untouched. He felt his luck rise, if only by a little bit.
Opening the pantry door, he found numerous cans of corn, green beans, peas, and fruit as well as several large poweraide bottles. He snatched one and pulled off the cap and drank it all in three gulps. He started to reach for another but reminded himself that if this was it, he needed to ration it. He moved on to the cabinets and found some packages of rice, dressing mixes, peanuts, and barbeque sauces but not much else. He was glad to have found what he did though.
Just for a laugh he flipped the nozzle up on the faucet and was surprised to find that there was running water. Must have been from a well, because it ran dark brown and smelled like rotting flesh.
"Can't have it all, I spose'." He grumbled as he made his way into the dusty family room. Once he had cleared the house he returned to the family room and flopped down on the beige couch to rest. Looking to his right he noticed that the snake, still wrapped around his neck, left a bloodstain. He looked at the fireplace, debating on checking it out now, but decided against it. He didn't feel like cooking his butchered prey. He tossed it to the floor and pulled his legs up to sleep.
When he awoke the sun had faded in the sky. He wondered what time it was but figured it didn't matter much anyway and went to the pantry for a can of corn and some peanuts. He stood against the counter to eat. That was when he heard the rustling in the woods. He turned up the can to quickly finish his dinner and grabbed his crossbow and aimed it towards the door. The sounds were of organized footsteps. There was no ambling or disorientation in the movements. And there was certainly more than one person.
"Shh! We don't know if anyone is in there!" whispered a male voice. There was no response to the command. "We can bunk here tonight if it's empty." He heard a female grunt drift across the breeze of the night.
Daryl ducked back and down the hallway, his back to the entrance of the front door. If they were dangerous, he wanted to have the jump on them.
"Door's open." The man whispered. If he was trying to be stealthy, he was failing miserably. The door creaked as two sets of footsteps tapped across the hardwood floor. They pair were quiet for a while before the man spoke again. "Someone's here. Look at this. It hasn't been dead long." The snake. Damnit. The girl whispered softly, clearly more intelligent than her male companion, Daryl could not make out what she said. He could hear their footsteps advance on him and he slowly and quietly made his way down the hallway, through the first door, and into the closet to hide. He wanted to know more about these people before he made his presence known.
The man glanced in the room only briefly before moving on to the next. How this man had survived this long was nothing short of a miracle.
There's still good people in this world
Her voice came across him softly. "Not now, girl." He muttered just as softly in return.
Don't be afraid.
"Ain't afraid of nothing. Just smart." He mouthed back.
"Alright Lizzie, I think we're safe here. Don't see anyone in the house. Must have been someone passing through." Dumbass. Daryl heard them rustling through cabinets and finding the same things he had found. The can he had discarded was either tossed or kicked out of the way and they searched through the kitchen. "Can't believe whoever was here didn't take anything other than a can of corn and a poweraide." The man gawked.
"Not everyone needs to take everything." The girl said, now seemingly confident in her surroundings. The girl sounded young, with a northern accent but it sounded forced. Like she was acting.
"We should pray before we eat." The man said.
"Father, I don't feel like saying thanks tonight. Double up for me. I'm going to see if I can find some clothes." The man offered no response to her lack of faith. Light footsteps came closer to the room he was hiding in, his closet, and he silently pulled his knife from its sheath. The footsteps came nearer to the cracked closet but he couldn't see anything in the darkness. The light from the half moon was on the other side of the house, blinding him in these conditions. Rather than take any chances, as the girl pulled open the door, he lunged out and grabbed her mouth and used the strength of his arms to curl her back into his chest. With his other hand he placed the knife to her throat.
"Don't scream. Don't wanna hurt ya, girl. Just need to make sure ya ain't plannin' on hurting me." He whispered in her ear. The girl's body went rigid as he spoke and she put her hands up in the air to show she meant no harm. He hesitated for a moment but dropped the knife and let go of her. She stayed frozen for a minute before slowly turning around. Her silhouette seemed familiar to him. Was this someone from the prison that had gotten out?
"Daryl?" She whispered. Her accent was gone and his heart stopped. The same voice that haunted his thoughts, his dreams, was coming from this girl in front of him. Daryl dropped his knife and reached forward to touch her. His hand came into contact with her cheek and she stepped in closer to him. That was enough for him to make out her features.
"Beth?"
So sorry to end it there but that's all the writing my kids will let me do right now. If you think I should go on, please let me know. If I do carry on I just ask that everyone be patient with me. I don't know how soon I can get another chapter out because, if it is well received, I will likely write a few at a time.