Y'all, I feel like I've caught the fanfic writing bug. I never thought I could do it, and now here I am writing another Bethyl story. This one was supposed to be for Summer of Bethyl's Pet Week, but writing in the ZA is a lot harder than I thought.
When he saw them standing in the clearing, he wasn't sure who looked more feral- the dog or Beth Greene. And he just stood there, dumbstruck, eyes trailing from the scars on her face down to hands clutching a small pistol and a large hunting knife.
To his right, Aaron stepped forward slowly, treating Beth like a skittish mare who might bolt if he made any sudden movements. "Hello," Aaron began his speech, "My name is Aaron. This is—"
"Daryl," Beth finished his sentence, but she still didn't lower her gun. She knew Daryl—well— she thought she knew him what felt like a lifetime ago. Months of barely surviving, clinging to a sliver of a memory of Noah talking about Richmond and walls. She'd clung to what she knew, which wasn't much anymore, not enough to call it hope. She didn't know this other man. Clean, curly brown hair, a neat plaid shirt tucked into a pair of khakis, and hiking boots like he was maybe going on a nature walk or bird watching.
Aaron glanced at his companion then took another step forward, only this time, the massive dog bared its teeth, the fur along his neckline standing at attention. "You know Daryl?"
Beth still hadn't lowered her gun, and she gripped her knife tighter. For all she knew, Aaron might have been holding Daryl captive. Just because you looked trustworthy didn't mean you were. She knew that. She'd remembered it since... Then Daryl stepped forward, and she nearly flinched, but he wasn't afraid of her. Hell, she remembered Daryl getting right up in her face, snarling that he wasn't afraid a' nothin'. So he kept moving forward, and when he was within striking distance, Beth sheathed her knife and rested her hand on the dog's head to soothe him.
"It's ok boy," Beth smoothed down his matted fur, and the dog whimpered, crouching low at her feet, but still alert, pointed ears twitching at the sounds around them.
Only when Daryl finally closed the distance, tentatively reached out and gripped Beth's elbow did he take a breath. Real. She was real. He put a gentle hand over hers, urging her to lower her gun, and Beth didn't resist. "S'okay Beth," Daryl's voice rumbled low against the wispy hairs that framed her face. Under Daryl's warm and steady presence, Beth's shoulders released some of their tension. But like the dog, she remained alert. Daryl noticed the way she wasn't really looking at him, so much as looking and listening for everything.
A walker stepped out into the open, further evidence that this was not some fantasy Daryl was having. Because who would fantasize about a flesh-eating monster attacking relentlessly to rip you limb from limb? Before either he or Aaron could move, Beth had her knife embedded in the rotting corpse's skull, withdrawing it quickly with a slick pop. She crouched low, and wiped the black sludge off on the walker's tattered clothing, the dog shifting his position to guard her back.
When she turned around, Aaron was staring at her in admiration. He and Daryl had been scouring these parts for survivors for several days, scavenging supplies as they found them, looking out for new groups to watch. Beth had been so quiet, they'd literally run in to her as they made their way back to the car and Daryl's motorcycle. She was so quick and quiet, she'd put down the walker before it could even snarl or raise alert to any other shambling dead in the area. The way she moved reminded him of Daryl. And the way he was looking at her, it was like he'd seen a ghost.
Aaron tried again, "Daryl and I have been scouting this area to bring people back to our home. We have a settlement there. It's safe."
Beth looked to Daryl for confirmation, his hand instinctively back on her arm, guiding her away from the twice-dead man as if she wasn't the one who'd just put a blade in its brain. "C'mon Beth. We should keep movin'. We spotted a herd not far from here."
"Yeah, I know. I'd stopped to search for supplies and got separated from my truck trying to avoid being seen," Beth shouldered her pack, "I think I'm only about a half a mile from it now."
Daryl nodded, turning to Aaron, "I'll go with Beth."
Aaron opened his mouth to protest, but the look on Daryl's face made him reconsider. He nodded, and turned to head back in the direction of their own cars. "The walkie-talkies'll still be in range. Lemme know if you get into trouble."
Walking alongside Beth felt like a dream, a dream Daryl had had countless times in the months since he was forced to leave her outside Grady Memorial Hospital. Only, in his dreams, she was always wearing that stained yellow polo, a ratty sweater, idle chatter bringing him comfort as the two of them traveled alone. Now, she stayed silent, one hand on a holstered gun, the other holding a knife unsheathed. He thought he'd forever remember what she looked like as he carried her limp, dead weight in his arms. In his nightmares, her skin so pale, so much blood staining her perfect golden hair. In his wildest dreams, he could never conjure the sight before him now. He'd never imagine her cheeks flushed pink from the blustery fall wind. Her yellow polo had been replaced with a dark blue sweater and an army green jacket cinched at her waist. Her jeans were tucked into a pair of worn brown knee-high boots that gaped a bit around her long skinny legs. All he could do was watch her. Daryl couldn't take his eyes off her for fear she might disappear. It felt like those weeks where it was just the two of them, only this time, there was a very large dog separating them. So many unanswered questions Daryl just couldn't seem to verbalize, so the words hung in the air between them, creating a chasm he wasn't sure how to bridge.
"Where were you headed?" he choked out instead.
Beth didn't stop walking, just glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, "Not really sure. Richmond maybe. Noah'd once said something about Richmond."
Daryl felt his breath catch in his throat. Of course she wouldn't know that Noah was dead. Wouldn't know Tyreese had gone before him. Wouldn't know how Maggie broke down at the sight of her seemingly dead younger sister. He stopped in his tracks, suddenly needing to sit down, and grateful for a fallen log just a few feet away.
"You alright?" Beth crouched down in front of him, concern etched across her features. For the first time, she looked like the Beth he remembered. Soft, caring, devoted. Her small hands wrapped around his wrists where he'd braced his hands on his knees. The dog must have sensed her shift in demeanor, because he also pressed himself close to Daryl sniffing him all over as if looking for a source of injury.
Daryl drew a shaky breath, and brought a large warm hand up to cup Beth's cheek, "Are you real?" A thumb tentatively brushed against the now faded scar, and he realized there was so much of her story that he still didn't know.
Tears welled up in Beth's eyes unbidden, "I don't know, are you?"
Budge—as Daryl found out was the German shepherd's name—never left Beth's side. Despite Daryl's hesitation, Beth insisted upon visiting each family members' house as if she was doing an "I'm Alive!" announcement tour. She nodded stoically as Glenn recounted the story of Noah's death at the hands of a coward, held Maggie as she sobbed into her shoulder, begging for forgiveness. She accepted a wriggling Judith from Rick and bounced her on her knee. All the while Daryl could tell she was drifting farther and farther away.
As if sensing her breaking point, Budge wedged himself between Fr. Gabriel and Beth just as he'd begun to compare her return to Lazarus rising from the dead. Daryl used the dog's threatening growl as an excuse to pull Beth away. He walked her back to Maggie and Glenn's house, trying to lighten the mood by mentioning how sure he was that dinner would be on the table and a bedroom prepared for her. Instead, mere mention of basic household conveniences had her bursting into tears. Beth furiously swiped at her cheeks, trying to hold in the sobs that wracked her body, and she felt absolutely mortified.
"I'm sorry," Beth looked away.
"Ain't nothin' to be sorry for," Daryl couldn't help but pull her into his arms. He half expected Budge to bite his balls off for getting too close, but he didn't care. If he was being honest with himself, the feel of her, warm and soft against his chest was comforting him.
"C'mon," Daryl guided her back down the front path and to a house across the street. He walked them around the back of the house and let himself in through the backyard gate to a small door off the side of the garage. He climbed a set of narrow steps which led to another door. Pushing it open, Beth was met with a small apartment built above the garage. It was sparsely decorated—a tiny kitchen with a lone stool at the counter. A double-bed shoved in the corner with a couple rumpled up blankets and pillows.
She sank down into the cushions of a leather upholstered chair trying to remember the last time she'd sat down on a piece of furniture that wasn't coated in dust or reeking of death. Daryl stepped into a small bathroom and returned with a wet towel, kneeling in front of Beth so he could wipe away the weeks of grime now streaked with tears she'd held in for too long.
"Ya gotta spot here Greene. Your family's here. Don't gotta worry no more," Daryl said. That last part felt hollow as the words slipped out of his mouth. Of course they had to worry. You stopped worrying, you stopped breathing.
"I don't feel like I gotta spot here… not yet. I don't even know…" Beth trailed off, her eyes focusing on a point somewhere behind him.
"Don't know what?" Daryl asked.
"What if—what if…" Beth hesitated. What she wanted to blurt out was, What if I'm not the girl who changed your mind? "What if I've changed?"
"You did change," Daryl bit his lip, "You gotta stay who you are. Not who you were."
"What if who I am doesn't have a place in this family?" Beth asked, "Did you see their faces? Everyone here thinks I'm fragile, the little girl who played with Judith and needed Daryl Dixon to protect her. I'm the stupid girl who brought scissors to a gunfight."
"Yer the one who said you wouldn't need me at all. Ya didn't," Daryl said, "I saw ya. Still do. Jus' gotta make everyone else see it too."
This woman sitting before him. Real. Beautiful. Her smile filled up every space of his heart with warmth. He couldn't help it, he brought a hand up to her cheek, and Beth leaned into his affection.
"'Course, we're gon' have to see if this mutt can cut it. Seems to me he's a bit soft," Daryl joked. At that, Beth laughed, really laughed, and it occurred to her she probably hadn't done that since the last time they were alone together. Budge released a grumble from his position curled up on the floor as if making them aware he'd heard them, and he wasn't amused.
"Can I stay here tonight?" Beth whispered. She looked at him, eyes wide, so blue, and full of trust, and Daryl thought if the question had been if he'd jump straight into an active volcano, the answer would be yes.
Daryl let Beth shower and change into one of his spare long-sleeve flannel shirts. While Beth was in the bathroom, Budge took the opportunity to sniff every surface he could reach in the small apartment, as if there might be some hidden danger lurking. He hovered over Daryl's bow for ten straight minutes with his mohawk raised, unsure what to make of the weapon.
"If you can't tell the difference 'tween my bow and a walker, I ain't trustin' you with Beth," Daryl murmured in warning.
"Don't harass Budge Daryl. Not everyone's a survival expert like you," Beth spoke up from the bathroom doorway, obviously having watched their interaction. She leaned up against the door frame, rolling up the sleeves of the too-long flannel shirt. The thing hung on her narrow frame like a shapeless sack, but that's not what Daryl saw.
Heat crept up his neck and cheeks, and he tried not to focus on the way the neckline dipped halfway down her chest. how her long hair hung in waves down her back, or the legs. The slender curve of legs that went on for days. He took one look at her in his shirt, and his brain said, "Mine." A possessiveness he didn't know existed surged through his veins. Daryl swallowed down the sudden thickness at the back of his throat, and grabbed for his crossbow.
"Be right back," he muttered, He was out the door and bounding down the stairs before Beth could even register a reaction. It never occurred to him that lending her a shirt meant she wouldn't be wearing pants. The sun had already begun setting earlier in the evening, and the cold air helped to clear the cobwebs from his brain.
Guilt and anger replaced the rush of emotion seeing his girl—NO—not his girl, safe and sound. Repeat. Not his girl. Daryl vigorously shook his head as if he could fling all mental images of Beth Greene out of his mind. Through the shaggy strands of hair hanging in his face, he could see Maggie and Glenn's house glowing in the darkness. They were expecting their little sister home to have a Hallmark-style dinner as if Hershel himself might come walking through the door to complete the family portrait.
He sighed, and stepped out from the shadows, crossing the street and making his way back over to Glenn and Maggie's so they wouldn't worry.
"Bethy, we were just wonderin' where you were," Maggie threw open the front door, only to find Daryl standing on her doormat, "Daryl, where's Beth?"
"She's at my place," Daryl shifted awkwardly, fiddling with the strap on his bow, "Figured I'd let ya know where she was."
Maggie's eyebrows drew together in confusion, "Wha? We were 'sposed to have dinner with her. I told'er once she got done seein' everyone to come back here."
Daryl shrugged, "It's been a long time. She's been alone for awhile."
"Well that's why she should come back here! We've got a bed made for her an' everythin'," Maggie voice began to rise, "Why would you bring her back to your place and not ours? This is her home!"
Glenn appeared at her side and drew her back into the house, motioning with his head for Daryl to follow. Daryl would've liked nothing better than to turn tail and run back to his apartment, but after the day they'd all had, emotions were obviously running high. There was no how-to guide to the zombie apocalypse, but if there had been, the chapter on coming back from the dead probably would've been about coming back as the undead. As Eugene said, Beth appearing before Daryl and Aaron in the woods was almost statistically impossible.
The house was spotless. A fire roared in the fireplace, and the dining room table was set, complete with candles lit and cloth napkins. Daryl took a seat on the edge of the couch and folded his arms over his chest. He felt like ripping off his skin and throwing it in the wash, and even then he'd be too dirty for this place. He could only imagine what Beth felt like. She'd been living off stale jerky and whatever else she could find. No wonder she'd broken down at the thought of pretending the world hadn't ended outside these walls.
Maggie paced the living room floor, wringing her hands. "Why doesn't she want to be with her family?"
Daryl just blinked at her, and Glenn was so quiet the fire crackling away felt like an audible representation of the tension in the room.
"You don't have to answer that," Maggie slumped into one of the dining room chairs, "I know why Beth doesn't want to be near me. I abandoned her. She needed me, and I wasn't even there." She buried her head in her hands and then the tears started. If Daryl wasn't already uncomfortable, he sure was now. Glenn knelt down beside Maggie, and took her in his arms, rocking her and whispering nonsense in her ear to try and get her to calm down.
"Uh, ya want me to go get'er and make her come back?" Daryl spoke up.
Maggie wiped away her tears and shook her head, "No, I've freaked her out enough. She trusts a dog more than her own sister." Daryl wasn't sure if he was talking about him or Budge. After a few minutes of mopping up her tears, she burst into a round of fresh sobs. Daryl made a mental note to stay away from the Rhee household until Maggie got herself together. He'd never seen the woman act so batshit. Glenn disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes and returned with a clean towel for Maggie to blow her nose into as well as a covered plate he hastily shoved into Daryl's hands.
"Just tell her she's welcome to come sleep in the room we've set up for her here. Try to let her know we're here for her whenever she's ready. If not, just give her this food. She needs to eat something," Glenn articulated what Maggie couldn't.
Daryl didn't need to be told twice. With a curt nod, he left their house as quickly and quietly as possible. He thought Beth's return would have made Maggie happy, not reduce her to a blubbering mess. As uncomfortable of a thought it was to have Beth sleeping in his home, he couldn't bring himself to send her over to Glenn and Maggie's. She hadn't found her place yet, and he remembered feeling the exact same way. To put her in such a pressure-filled environment would only push her even further away.
The steps back up to his small apartment creaked mutinously under his feet, no matter how lightly and quickly he moved. Slipping through the door, his eyes immediately fell to the leather chair. Beth was curled up with one of the books from the nearby shelf open in her lap.
She'd braided her hair over her shoulder, elbow propped up on one arm, pistol cocked and ready on the other. Daryl sent up a silent prayer of gratitude that she had one of his blankets draped over her legs.
When Daryl had moved in, the shelves were lined with video games, posters of chicks in bikinis tacked up all over the walls. Aaron said something about some college kid living up there probably, and Daryl had quickly emptied the place, replacing the useless video game discs with books he picked up on scouting trips.
"You read a lot?" Beth asked. There was no judgment in her tone, just a wonder in her voice at the kind of life they got to have within the safety of steel walls.
"Some," Daryl allowed, crossing the room to place the plate of food on the counter. He sank down onto his trunk at the foot of the bed where he kept all his gear and a few changes of clothing. 'Some' was his way of saying that books were what kept him company every other night a family member hadn't dragged him to a community gathering or had him over for dinner to 'see how he was doing.'
They sat in silence, Daryl on the trunk, Beth in the chair, Budge curled up on the floor. After a few moments, Beth looked up at Daryl. He'd worked off his leather vest and now stared at the floor, gnawing on his thumb nail. He wore an expression on his face of such intensity, she'd never forget it. He'd had the same look on his face the night he'd laid in a coffin, worriedly staring up the ceiling. All he had for a partner was a singer with a bum ankle. The only thing changed about their situation was that she didn't have a bum ankle. And if he wanted, he could go find someone else to fight by his side.
"Ya want me to go?" Beth asked.
His head snapped up, forehead wrinkled and eyes narrowed, "Naw." He stood up and walked into what could only be described as a kitchenette. Every time he was in there, he felt like a giant reaching into a dollhouse. He pulled open a drawer and retrieved a fork.
"Ya hungry?" Daryl asked, holding out the fork to her, "Maggie made a plate for ya."
Part of Beth wanted to know how Maggie reacted when she found out she wasn't coming to dinner. Her rumbling stomach won out though. She stood, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, and took the three short steps to the wobbly stool. "Where's your fork? When we were together, we always shared."
Daryl picked up a piece of meat with his fingers, and Beth was practically transported back to a kitchen and grape jelly and candlelight maybes. Budge appeared at Daryl's side, pressing his nose to his leg, looking for an opportunity to be fed. Daryl smirked, holding out a piece of venison for the dog to pluck from his fingers. After letting Budge give his fingers a few licks, Daryl wiped his hand off on his pants, and reached into the drawer for another fork.
Together, Beth and Daryl leaned over the plate of meat and pasta, twirling the noodles around their forks and eating in companionable silence. Outside these apartment walls, the world seemed scary, but for just a few moments, it was just the two of them and Budge.
"I'll go over there tomorrow," Beth stated as if she was convincing herself, "Gotta make Maggie see, don't I?"
Daryl gave a slight nod, "She'll see." He made a mental note to go talk to Rick before he and Aaron had to leave for another scouting trip.
Beth slid off the stool and moved back to the leather chair with the ease of someone who belonged there, someone who'd been there all along. She decocked her pistol before setting it next to where Daryl placed his crossbow. She picked up the book she'd been reading, but before her eyes could hit the first word on the page Daryl cleared his throat.
"Beth."
Blue eyes lifted to lock with his own, "Yeah?"
"I did. Miss you. So bad," Daryl's voice reached Beth from across the room, husky and low.
Beth blinked, "Oh."
