"Don't move."
Night had fallen at this point which prevented Beth from being able to see the intruder clearly. The slight glow from the moonlight traced a broad outline of what she assumed to be a man.
Beth had found this little shack deep in the woods, surrounded by so much foliage she could barely tell there even was a cabin beneath all the vines. Being on her own, she welcomed the sight of it no matter how dilapidated it was. From the inside, it seemed that nobody had lived there for quite some time even before the turn.
She knew that once her head hit the ground she would be out like a light. Being by herself made her have to be aware all hours of the day and night. Figuring she needed some rest, but knowing she was not safe on her own, she crawled up into the little attic space to curl up in the few blankets she had been able to scavenge from a car she had passed by on one of her rare journeys to town.
Beth knew her voice sounded scratchy and rough from not having to use her voice for quite some time. She was barely even able to recognize it herself.
The man froze once he heard her voice, obviously being caught by surprise. His back faced away from Beth and from what little Beth could see, the man's shoulders hunched and the room grew tense as she waited for him to do something.
The gun felt heavy in Beth's hands as she anticipated the smallest move that would force her to use one of her last few remaining bullets.
The man slowly raised his hands in a manner of surrender. Beth continued to take deep breaths to keep the gun aimed steady. She'd had to kill people before. Being by herself she couldn't take too many chances, so she'd done what she had to when threatened. She desperately hoped she wouldn't have to kill this man, but either way she'd have to leave the safety of this cabin seeing as the man knew where she was staying.
"I ain't lookin' for trouble, ok?" The man slowly began to turn around cautiously. "I didn't know anyone was stayin' here." His voice is soft and gruff, to the point she could barely make it out.
Thunder shook overhead just before rain could be heard hitting the roof, though it was muffled by all of the foliage.
The man shifted on his feet slightly, which gave Beth a better view of what he had been doing on the table before she approached him from behind. He was in the process of lighting the few candles he must have brought.
"Look, I don't wanna hurt you. As long as you don't try anything, I won't." Beth took a small step closer, still keeping her gun aimed steadily towards his chest. "I need to see what weapons you're carrying."
The man slowly nodded his head.
"Ok, take the two sheaths off your belt and slide 'em to me."
The man lowered his hands to his belt and continued to remove the sheaths.
"Slowly," Beth abruptly barks when his hands start fumbling a little too fast for her liking.
He lays the two knives on the floor and kicks them to her across the room. Once they reach Beth's feet, she slowly squats down to pick them up, fingers fumbling while she keeps her eyes on him and aims the gun.
The next words Beth is about to utter die on her tongue. Her breath stutters in her chest and she releases a small gasp.
The knife. Her knife.
"Light the rest of the candles," Beth gasps, gripping the knife like a lifeline, knuckles white.
When the man doesn't move, Beth becomes almost frantic.
"Please," she whispers, voice cracking. She doesn't even want to hope for anything, knowing it will just hurt her more if this man is in fact a stranger. But she can't help it when the hope continues to well in her chest, a spark settling deep in her bones.
The man must hear the pleading in her voice, for he turns and continues to light the remaining candles. As more and more light is cast across his side of the room, Beth is able to make out more features. First, the shaggy dark hair that has her holding her breath. Then, the broad, muscular arms and shoulders that forces Beth to put her hand to her lips to stop the sob that seems to be building. Finally, she is able to make out the leather angel wing vest across his back. Beth can no longer help it as a sob escapes her mouth and she falls to her knees.
She hears the man- no, Daryl turn back around, but she can't even lift her face. From what she's pieced together, it's been about a year since the last time she'd seen his face in that terrible hospital hallway. The day he'd carried her dead body-or so they thought- out of there. The people remaining at the hospital hadn't given her as much information as she'd wanted to know, but they'd given her enough. It had been a long, grueling process to get to the point where she could leave the bleakness of the hospital on her own. She didn't have all her memories intact, but enough to know her family was still out there. And they thought she was dead. Dr. Edwards had helped nurse her back to health, though he'd continued to be extra cautious around her.
She'd set out on her journey to find her family with a small sack of food, some matches, and a few knives. She'd always hoped that maybe one day she'd find her family, but she didn't know where to even start. Over time finding her family had begun to take a back seat to just surviving and living to see another day. She had to face the fact that she may never find them. She had to put herself first. Over time the hope she'd carried deep in her bones eventually dwindled until she could hardly feel it anymore.
But now, he's here. Daryl's here, in this run down shack with her, still standing across the room thinking she's dead, and probably wondering who this crazy woman is and why she's sobbing. The tears continue to run down her face, but she finds herself releasing a laugh. Of course they'd meet again in a place like this, a place they'd gotten to know each other better than either of them ever anticipated.
Beth finally raises her head to look at Daryl's face, which causes her breath to catch once again. He looks confused-of course, and he now has his crossbow securely in his hands, but it's not raised. His blue eyes are searching the outline of her, trying to understand what's going on.
She knows he can't actually see her. The light doesn't reach far enough across the room to light up more than just the outline of her body. And even if he could see her, she doesn't know if he would believe it. Sometimes she feels like a ghost, too.
When she feels as though her legs won't give out beneath her, Beth stands up and slowly approaches him, inching closer to the light. All the frantic energy has now passed, and instead she feels her heart throbbing painfully.
Daryl's eyes still dance across her, trying to see her face. The moment she finally steps into the light, his eyes widen and he stumbles backwards a few steps, mouth agape.
"Daryl," she murmurs, "it's me."
His breathing comes out stuttered and fast as he searches her face in disbelief.
"I-It can't be. I carried you out, I-" his voice cracks and then there are tears escaping the corners of his eyes.
"Daryl," she whispers, stepping closer. Beth desperately wants to go to him and gather him in her arms but she knows he's not fully comprehending her presence yet.
"I-I'm alive. Dr. Edwards found me and I was still breathing, barely, but I'm here, Daryl." Beth can't help her voice cracking and more tears escaping her eyes. "Daryl, I'm here."
The thump of his knees hitting the worn down wood of the floor is the only warning she gets before he crumples down onto his knees, head and shoulders sagging in front of him, trembling silently.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Beth knew she recognized that voice when he first spoke, but wouldn't let that spark of hope ignite into a flame. She knew that it would only end in sadness, that deep helplessness that's encompassed her whole body to the point that everything just aches. Maybe Daryl had recognized her voice too, but no. It's not the same. She was dead in the trunk of a car, blood caked in her blonde head.
Beth takes a few cautious steps forward until he finally lifts his head. The wetness dripping down across his cheeks and the look in his eyes makes her heart stutter and her body freeze.
He looks completely lost. His look is haunted- haunted by her she thinks, as if she's a figment of his imagination. But what really makes her pause is the flare of hope that's in his eyes, hidden beneath the rest. It's barely visible, but it's there.
"Oh," Beth can't stop the whisper that escapes her lips. "Oh, Daryl."
Her hands raise shakily to his face where she frames his wet cheeks with the worn palms of her hands. Her touch seems to make him come alive, for his hands reach up and grab her hips as he pushes his face into her stomach. His hands stutter, grappling to find purchase against her stomach as if he's trying to crawl into the hollow of her chest. His sobs are muffled by her shirt, but she can hear her name repeated over and over again, as if he says it enough this-she will be real.
"Beth-"
Her hands continue to stroke through the dark shaggy hair.
"Beth."
His hands finally still, her shirt bunched up against her waist as his hands hang on tight.
"Beth."
The heat of his breath against her stomach as another silent sob escapes him, until finally, he looks up.
Its then that she feels the wetness of her tears as they slide down her cheeks and one lands onto Daryl's cheek beneath her. She follows its path with her eyes as it blends into his own tears, becoming one.
Her hands move from where they're scratching against his scalp so she can frame his face once again. Her cheeks feel stretched tight which confuses her for a moment until Daryl mirrors her own face. His smile is ever present, though not as big, but it's there, mouth stretched and slightly open where she can see a glimpse of his teeth.
She can't even remember the last time she's smiled and for a few moments it feels so foreign-until it's just not. Being here with Daryl on his knees before her, small smile on his face as he looks up at her, his eyes dancing-
It feels right.
Next thing she knows, she's kneeling down on the floor too, her forehead resting against his, eyes closed as she breathes in deep the smell of him. The old leather, the dirt, the smell of the forest. Daryl.
His fingers move in slow circles against her cheeks as he breathes in deep too. Once Beth can finally open her eyes, he's still pressed up against her, staring, as if he blinks she'll be gone again.
Beth doesn't know who moves first, but she's seated across Daryl's lap, arms around his neck, rubbing soothing circles into his skin as he hangs on to her body tight, cocoons her in his warmth. His face is pressed into her forehead where his mouth is pressing hard into her in what feels like a kiss.
"Beth," voice soft as his breath tickles the hair against her cheeks, "you're here. I've got you."
"Yeah," she whispers into the patch of skin on his neck, "and I've got you, right?" She smiles into his neck, burrowing deeper.
Another press of his lips against her forehead is his answer.
There will be time to talk about the how and why, but now isn't the time. Here, burrowed deep into each other's warmth, the rain bouncing off the roof of the cabin, their hands clasped together, Daryl's thumb stroking hers softly, they have all the time in the world.