My thoughts and prayers are with everyone across the globe who have been affected by the recent acts of terrorism. The Paris attack. The Beirut bombings. The Baghdad funeral bombings. The Sinai plane crash. The natural disasters in Japan and Chile. I have family who are safe in France, and each day I count my lucky stars that I am not mourning the loss of my loved ones. I encourage you all to call your parents, your siblings, or whoever you haven't spoken too and check in with them. The world is a beautiful yet unpredictable place, and we should never take our freedom and our country for granted.
Hello! Before I even try to explain myself, please let me start by apologizing profusely for the long-ass wait. I won't lie, for a little while there I lost my writing mojo because my partner was working away and I was going crazy being a busy, working single mummy to a little girl. But I'm back! I hope I'll be forgiven. This story is the continuation of Continuum. I really needed a fresh start with a new title, as I have some intense plans for this story-line and it really deserved its own independence. I would highly recommend reading Use Me (my first Bethyl fic in this series), followed by Continuum before reading this little nibblet, as it tells the story of Beth and Daryl right from the start (not to mention there's some half-decent smut that you shouldn't deny yourselves of!). Regardless, I hope you enjoy!
Shout-out to the amazing Domenica for inspiring this story and giving me encouragement and support when my motivation to write was at an all-time low. You're the best, and I dedicate this story to you!
"There's someone at the door."
There was a moment of silence as both Beth and Daryl contemplated the current conundrum. Surely in a world before the dead walked, this would not be a reason for fear or trepidation. Somebody at the door would have been expected, perhaps even welcomed.
But this wasn't the old life. People had no business knocking on doors. Beth hadn't met anyone new since the prison, and she had never expected to do so. People only came knocking at doors when they were in need: of food, water, shelter, supplies. Beth could feel her pulse hammering in her throat. Their group had each of those things in abundance, because they so desperately needed them to raise a baby. That made them a target for pilferers, thieves, savages.
Daryl suddenly appeared five inches taller as he straightened into a defensive stance. He walked silently onto the landing, picking up his crossbow and slinging it over his shoulder in the most threatening way possible before he started to take the stairs. One step at a time. Stealthy. He was a hunter, and he wasn't averse to hunting humans if they posed a threat to his group.
Beth followed him loyally towards the staircase, because part of her was praying for more reunions with Carol, Rick, Sasha, baby Judith. After all, the last time they had been disturbed by a knock, it had been her own sister and brother-in-law. Why couldn't the odds be in their favor once more?
"Beth, get back into the bedroom and lock the door, right?" Daryl didn't need to turn to know she'd followed him out of their room.
"But-" she tried to argue, already knowing it was a pointless attempt.
"Ain't fuckin' around here, Beth. Get in the bedroom now," the look he flashed her was just serious enough to convince her. She swallowed hard before retreating into their room and locking the door behind her.
She wasted no time in gathering anything of value in their room: the water bottles on the desk, the almost full tin of baby formula, the first aid kid, Daryl's bolts, clothes, shoes, painkillers. All of this was tipped into a backpack and stashed beneath a loose floorboard by the bed. They had to be able to run if they needed to, and they wouldn't get far without these necessities.
Daryl began the rigorous routine of unlocking the multiple chain latches and locks on the front door of the funeral home, pulling the door open just enough for him to cautiously peer onto the front stoop to evaluate the intruder.
He immediately realized that "intruder" was too severe of a word for the person who stood hunched in the front yard.
It was a woman. A small woman. The steady rise and fall of her shoulders to indicate breathing was the only factor that set her apart from the undead. Her hair was matted with soil and blood, her face ghostly pale against the harsh streaks of mud and blood that stained her skin. She stood there on the porch, eyes glazed as if she were under the influence of hooch or mind-altering drugs.
The creak of the front door opening seemed to awaken her from the trance she was in. Her eyes lifted from their comfortable resting place in front of her feet, rising slowly until she was able to take in Daryl's figure standing in the doorway.
"Hey, I need to see your hands," Daryl ordered, his tone softer than anticipated at the poor, hopeless look in her eyes. Her hands were clasped together behind her back, her fingers twisting together with uncertainty or nervousness, Daryl didn't know. All he knew was that he wasn't letting anyone into their house with a concealed weapon.
She took a small and shaky step forward, her hands dropping to her sides with her hands splayed open to reveal her complete lack of weapons.
"P-please. P-p-please. You have to help me," Daryl almost didn't recognize the words escaping her mouth, her voice was so strained he knew she hadn't spoken for weeks.
"Oh my God," Daryl heard a familiar voice gasp, and let out a growl of frustration as a blonde head poked out to his left.
"Beth, I told you to stay back!" he muttered between gritted teeth, eyes firmly planted on their new arrival.
"Look at her!" she whispered, obviously distraught by the condition of this stranger. But that was just Beth. Selfless. Loving.
"I need help. Please," the woman continued, her eyes pleading as they stared into Daryl's.
"She's bleeding!" Beth murmured, noting the blood that stained the front of her jeans.
"I need to check you for weapons. You been bitten by anything?" Daryl shoved Beth behind his body as he stepped out of the house and towards the woman.
"No. Nothing. This blood is old. I've not eaten in weeks. Please," she raised both arms in the air as Daryl advanced upon her, hands roughly patting at her waistband and down each leg, hunting for weapons and finding nothing.
"You ain't got nothing on you. How've you made it this far without a weapon?" he pulled away from her, doubt clouding his features.
She shrugged, wincing in pain as she did so.
"Luck, I suppose," she raised one hand to wipe a strand of hair from her face, revealing a stark white scar that ran horizontally across her wrist. Daryl knew those scars, had seen them up close on someone else. There was no doubt that Beth had seen them, too, as she was suddenly at Daryl's side despite his attempts to block her with his body.
"Daryl, please. We can't leave her here. She'll be dead in a day," Beth was glaring up at him, using her most convincing puppy dog eyes.
"I'm Beth," she continued, peering around Daryl's torso to take in the woman. She was older than Beth and Maggie, but not by much. Beth desperately wanted to reach out to her, to take her wrists between her hands and touch those scars tenderly.
"Grace," the woman nodded, the beginnings of a small smile gracing her otherwise expressionless face.
Daryl could feel Beth's insistent tugging at his shirt, almost like a child demanding candy from her parent.
"Fine. Come in and get cleaned up. We got some food and water we can spare," Daryl extended an arm to the woman as he noticed how weak she was. She accepted it gratefully, leaning her weight against his side as she shuffled towards the front door.
"Glenn! Maggie!" Daryl bellowed as he hauled her across the threshold and kicked the door shut behind them. Glenn appeared immediately. It was blindingly obvious that he had been hiding in the hallway, ready to jump out if the intruder was in fact a danger.
"Oh, shit. Here, I'll get water." Glenn ducked into the kitchen as Beth pulled up a kitchen chair and found a blanket to throw around the woman's shoulders.
Grace was shaking as she lowered herself into the seat, teeth chattering loudly despite the humid air that filled the kitchen.
"You hurt anywhere, Grace?" Beth was kneeling in front of her, her eyes quickly and efficiently running over every piece of exposed flesh, attempting to locate any scrapes or bruises that she could fix.
"No. No. I'm exhausted, I'm hungry, that's all," she stammered.
"You're safe now, Grace," Beth soothed, pushing a strand of matted hair out of Grace's face.
"Oh God. Oh God, I didn't think I'd find people again. I thought I was dead!" she continued, her voice catching in her throat as a sob threatened to escape.
"I'm going to fix you up something to eat, alright? Here, drink up," Beth took the glass of water that Glenn was offering, pushing the cup into her shaking hands and helping her to guide it to her mouth where she drank from it greedily.
Daryl pulled up a chair alongside Grace, his crossbow laying across the kitchen table.
"Daryl. I'm going to get some of the deer from last week, alright? Can you watch her?" Beth called over her shoulder as she disappeared into the cellar to find some deer jerky.
Grace remained silent, her glass of water shaking in her hands so violently that Daryl was compelled to pry the cup from her fingers and return it to the table.
"Sorry. I'm trying not to shake, but I can't help it." She met his eyes for a second, her expression full of apologies and awkwardness.
"You're full of adrenaline. It's normal to be afraid," he grunted, not familiar with comforting anyone other than Beth.
He watched Beth return with the jerky, and the grateful way that Grace accepted the food with delight, jamming so much of it into her mouth that she almost choked. Daryl could see that Beth was just about bursting at the seams with questions and concern and conversations that were still unspoken, and he admired her patience when she perched herself on his knee and waited for Grace to finish eating her fill of deer.
"Thank you. God, you're so kind," Grace drained her cup of water, prompting Beth to hop up and refill her glass without a second thought.
"How long has it been since you ate something?" Beth asked as she returned.
"Something other than worms, you mean? A fortnight, at least. I'm lucky I found a creek to drink out of, or I'd be dead," Grace replied, shuddering at the memory of that murky creek water she had been forced to slurp down. She was thanking her lucky stars that she wasn't dead from dysentery or a multitude of other possible poisons and toxins.
"I just realized that I'm the only one who introduced myself. This is Daryl, he's my b- fiancé, and my sister Maggie is upstairs with our daughter, Sophia. That's Glenn, Maggie's husband," Beth gestured as Glenn returned to the kitchen, obviously having just ran down the stairs after delivering the news of the arrival to Maggie.
"Thank you, guys. For everything. I must have looked a sight standing out there in your yard. I didn't even know whether this place was occupied. It looked deserted," she glanced around the kitchen.
"That's the plan. The less occupied it looks, the less chance of Walkers," Beth shrugged as she swept jerky crumbs from the table.
"Walkers? That's a good one. We just called 'em zombies," Grace let out a short laugh as Beth wrinkled her nose at the term.
Glenn watched Beth and Grace talking like old friends, watching the look of excitement on Beth's face at the prospect of having a new friend, somebody to gossip with and trade life stories and experiences with.
"We gonna do this properly? The way Rick would?" he murmured under his breath so that only Daryl could hear him.
"What? The three questions?" Daryl grunted in reply, pretending to be fascinated with a loose splinter of wood in the kitchen table. Glenn shrugged noncommittally next to him, prompting him to interrupt the gossip session.
"Grace, listen. We got enough stuff to share with you, if you're willing to chip in and work with us to hunt and stockpile necessities," Daryl started, already noting Grace's confident and eager head-nodding in response to his proposition.
"As long as Beth or Maggie don't have any complaints, I can't see a problem with letting you stay here with us. All I ask is that you answer three questions," Daryl paused for dramatic effect, not entirely confident of how to phrase these in the most Rick-esque manner.
"Sure. I'm ready," Grace smiled benignly up at him, awaiting the interrogation.
"How many walkers have you killed?"
"I lost count after fifteen," she answered cooly.
"How many people have you killed?"
This question seemed to catch her off-guard just for a moment.
"Three."
"Why?"
This was it. The question that decided her fate. Whether she would stay in their safe haven, or be thrown back out into the wilderness.
"To protect my family." She did not hesitate, her eyes the clearest Daryl had even seen them as she stared adamantly up at him, demanding him to accept her. He pretended to consider her answers carefully, despite spying Beth jumping up and down with excitement in his peripheral vision.
"Welcome to our group, Grace." Daryl's introduction was cut off by an excitable squeal from Beth.
"We've got hot running water. Did you want to take a shower? You can have some of my or Maggie's clothes when you're done. I can wash those," Beth glanced down at the dried blood on the woman's jeans.
"I'd really appreciate it. Thank you, guys." She stood, shakily, latching onto Beth's arm as she led the way to the staircase.
Glenn let out a sigh of content from his seat at the table, turning to Daryl as if awaiting him to comment on the newcomer.
"What's that look for?" Daryl allowed a short smile to grace his features as he set about clearing up Grace's plate and cup.
"Nothing. I just haven't seen Beth this excited since - well, I don't think I've ever seen Beth this excited!" he finished. Daryl couldn't contain the chuckle that escaped him.
"Me neither. This is a big deal for her. She hasn't made a new friend in a long time."
"I hope this works out for her sake," the humor disappeared momentarily from Glenn's voice as he stared wistfully towards the staircase. Daryl swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat. Because there were no guarantees any longer. Grace could die. Grace could lead them into trouble. Grace could do any large number of things that would disadvantage their group and leave Beth feeling heartbroken and betrayed.
"She seems okay. I hope she's a good person. I want to like her, I really do. If she makes Beth happy, I'm all for it," Daryl concluded as he picked up his crossbow and slung it over his shoulder.
"I guess I'm going on a hunt. Wasn't really planning on it, but I suppose we've got an extra mouth to feed now. Want to come with?" Daryl offered hesitantly. He preferred to hunt alone, especially after enduring Glenn on his last hunt with his endless personal questions and lack of social boundaries.
"Nah, I'll leave you to it. I was going to gather some more firewood. We're running a little low," there was a twinkle in Glenn's eye that communicated he had understood Daryl's distaste for company, and did not take it personally.
Chapter 1 done and dusted :) As always (sounding like a broken record here) PLEASE LEAVE ME A QUICK REVIEW. Let me know what you think.
Lara xoxo