A/N: So... I thought Interstellar was an okay movie. But that's not the point. The point is I fell completely in love with the main theme song of the movie and somehow or another listening to it on repeat and thinking up all these random great things led to the inspiration of coming up with this completely fluffy Bethyl one-shot. I hope Daryl and Beth aren't too out of character. If they are then well... I blame the feels!
His son.
His son is all blue eyes, ten fingers and toes and soft puffs of blonde hair. His son is like the sweet dream of the nightmare he has been living in. His son is like the light to his dark world.
His son is everything he doesn't deserve and everything he actually has now. And just like every father before him, he is at a loss for words and thought. His mind is an echo of silence and his eyes are on the little bundle. His hand is woven around the bundle and his other is completely still and palm pressing into the bundle and little fingers wrapped around his index finger.
The touch holds him there and just like hers, this touch will always hold him here. There is nothing that can pull him away from here; nothing that could make him want to walk or run away. Maybe in another life time he would have run at the very first thought of him being a father. Maybe if the world hadn't gone to shit he would've never allowed himself any of this.
He feels another touch on his arm and the movement lightly jolts the small hand that is wrapped around his finger. The bundle shifts but only slightly and just like that he bears witness to the most innocent of yawns. The widest and beautiful sight he has ever seen in his entire life. His son is yawning.
"Daryl," she murmurs his name. She's the only one that could pull his eyes away from the bundle right now.
She is sweaty and hair all plastered around her head. She looks like she could sleep for a year and any other man would probably think to look away and let her rest and leave her be. But the way she looks and the glow that is around her tugs on something deep in his soul. He feels her warmth and feels her touch around his heart. He sees the love in her eyes and the devotion and the unspoken promises and every single feeling she is feeling now. He feels all of it too.
He lets himself sit on the edge of her bed and just like that the little hand lets him go. He takes this opportunity to curl his hand around her when she sits up and when she leans into his side. He knows she is probably sore but she is putting aside all of that right now to be here with him.
"He's beautiful," she murmurs when they settle and when she looks so motherly down at his son.
"You're beautiful too, darlin'," he tells her in a way that is so very unlike him.
He knows he is stepping completely outside of his comfort zone but with the rise of emotions all around him he cannot help but want to ride this wave. He feels more of a man right now than he ever has; even more than killing walkers.
"Only y'would think that," she whispers after a moment's pause.
He curls his hand into her side and the gown they made her wear is all loose and it clings to her. He breathes her in all the same though and everything about her now is so perfectly tuned to all that he is.
"Do y'remember?" he asks softly.
She turns to look at him and he braces himself for a frown but all he sees is her smiling warmly at him.
"No," she tells him and shakes her head, "But this feels right."
"'n me?"
"Since arriving here in Washington DC," she starts and he feels her lace her fingers through the hand he has at her side, "Since meeting you…" she pauses and he feels her slide her other hand onto his cheek, "You've always felt…right."
He nods and smiles at her words. "Thought y'would'a preferred someone els-"
"I think," she cuts him off, "That in any way our lives could've gone…we would'a always made it here."
She says it in the very matter of fact way that it reminds him of the girl he met at that farmhouse; the one he got to know when they were on the road and the one he came to call family when they were at the prison. She somehow grew between then and now and more especially when they escaped the prison together. She became a lot more to him than the few women he had ever known intimately in his life.
"Y'know that, huh?" he mutters lightly.
"Yes, I do," she tells him, "I mean…what are the odds…" she pauses for a moment before she continues, "Morgan found me 'n we decided t'come here of all other places we could'a gone."
"We almost didn't make it here," he reminds her.
"Well…see," she continues, "There's that too."
"'s almost like…" he trails off.
"Like it doesn't matter which way our lives went," she repeats, "In every one, we'll always come back to this one."
He nods and lets the silence dance around them for a while as he simply drinks her in. She lowers her gaze to their son though a moment later. He watches her and how she so softly and warmly gazes upon their boy.
Dixon's were never capable of feeling. They weren't family men or the best of fathers or the sort that could ever dream of treating a woman right. But here he was as a father now and a husband too and a lover and sharing all these quiet conversations with her.
"'m sorry," she murmurs and looks at him again.
He looks at her curiously and patiently waits for her to continue.
"I know y'don' gotta choice," she continues and he feels her fingers leaving his hand. He sees her shifting her hand and finally pressing her fingers over the scar at her head. "I know y'gotta look at this all the time 'n remember."
"Beth-" he sighs.
"I know it ain' easy," she continues, "T'forget…But we ain't there anymore."
"I know," he whispers.
"'n I really am here," she assures him, "We're really here."
"I know that too," he murmurs, "No woman ever sane 'nough t'ever wanna love a Dixon like y'do."
She finally smiles at that but shakes her head and swats his chest playfully.
"Don' be sayin' that," she scolds but with a smile on her lips the entire time, "Y'know any woman would'a be lucky t'be with you."
"Think I was only meant for y'darlin'," he murmurs.
"Am I interrupting?"
He looks to the door and sees Maggie standing there all smiles and wide grin.
"Not at all," Beth answers and he shifts and lets her turn. He helps her when she winces from the pain and even with the bundle in his hand he still manages to give her his entire arm to hold onto and to pull and throw her entire weight on when she shifts.
"Oh…my!" Maggie squeals, "He is beautiful!"
"Just like his daddy," Beth laughs and he his head but smiles all the same at her.
The rest of the day is a blur of their family visiting in small groups. He lets everyone carry their son and he can't help but feel incredibly proud when their son doesn't cry at all.
He stands by the corner through most of it and he watches over them and mostly only watches over her and their boy. They are his world now; the light in this much darker one. And for a while he forgets about the walkers that still haunt the face of the planet. He forgets that the only thing separating them from the people in here were the four tall and strong concrete walls.
He forgets about watch duty and about all his jobs in this place. He forgets about the farm and the prison. He forgets about that cabin they burned down and the house they found and the night he watched someone drive her away in that that car. He forgets about Grady and the way she fell and the sound that echoed in his head for months after. He forgets about scooping her body up in his arms and believing her to be dead. He forgets about the time that passed and the days that went by and the weeks that rolled on.
He remembers instead a Sunday that was just another typical day.
He was early for his shift and he'd just finished eating that omelette that Maggie cooked up for him and insisted that he eat before he left. He had walked with Carl to his watch duty that day and the entire day went by without incident. But then just before the sun was about to set and right there at the horizon amongst the scattered walkers he saw two figures.
It took him a long time to realise that he wasn't dreaming; that she really was walking up to their door step. That beside her was Morgan and that the wound on her head was nothing more than just a scar now. She walked and held her weapon high and though she looked at him as if he were a stranger when he called out her name, there was a flicker of recognition that he saw glaze over her eyes.
She never did remember who they all were. She remembered everything before the turn which meant that she did remember Maggie. But she forgot about Glenn and Rick, Carl, Carol and everyone else. She forgot about him and the words that would've followed that night in the kitchen if he hadn't thought to let that dog in. She forgot about everything that he was and everything that he had become.
"Y'know," he hears Maggie start and he looks to the woman and sees her look knowingly at him.
Beth is long asleep now with their little son in her arms.
"Y'don' have t'keep going back there," Maggie continues and he watches as the woman stands and leans over to lightly curl a hand around his son's head, "We will all always keep her safe."
"'m just…" he starts and he sees Maggie look at him, "'s just…why even though she forgot all of us…why did she still feel it?"
Maggie looks back to his son again and she says nothing but just stands there and strokes his son's head gently. He looks to Beth and she looks beautiful even when she sleeps. It doesn't really matter what she's doing or where she is, she is always beautiful to him.
"Daddy once said no man is good enough for his little girl until one is," Maggie tells him and he sees her look at him again, "And I think that even though that bullet took away all her memories of you…I think that when she met you again here in DC, she just knew that you're the only one that is good enough for her."
He blinks and looks away for a moment.
"And I'm glad," Maggie adds and smiles this time, "That you're the one for her."
"I ain' nothin' special," he mutters.
"Suppose not," Maggie nods, "But I know you'd kill anyone that'll ever hurt her and that's enough for me."
He stares as Maggie takes her leave and leaves him entirely alone in the room with his little family. Beth continues sleeping blissfully and completely oblivious to his and Maggie's entire conversation. It takes him a moment and probably a while but eventually he smiles and he looks to their little son.
He gently pulls their little son from her arms and when he settles back on his seat he spares a moment to look at Beth again; a moment to just look at her scar and remember all the darker memories he'd buried long ago. He revisits every single one from the scars on his back to that time he came home to find his house on fire because his mother had fallen asleep with a cigarette in her mouth and died right there in the flames.
He remembers vividly the ringing sound of the bullet leaving her skull and the sight of her lifeless body falling to the ground and bleeding.
And Beth is right. She is always right anyway.
It didn't matter how any of that could have gone or how different all of it could have been. In every single possibility of how their lives could've gone, they would have always found a way back to here. A way back to each other.
A way back to him.