A/N This fic definitely has dark elements, but there will also be lots of light. It's a journey two people take out of the depths depression, and back to having a reason to live, laugh and love. Thank you for taking the time to read it, and please share your thoughts. In our story Daryl is about to turn 26, Beth about to turn 22.
Triggers: Suicide, War, PTSD
She put an ad in the local paper for the unit, and they also published the availability on the Internet. She swore the call came as soon as the ad broke. It was a man with a kind of rough sounding voice, not mean, but sort of like he'd just lost his best friend. He said his name was Daryl Dixon, he'd like to see the place, and she told him to come on over and gave him the address.
She sat on the front porch and waited. 15 minutes later a big motorcycle pulled up in front. The guy who got off it was quite handsome, in a kind of messy and rough looking way. His hair was shaggy, and he was muscles on muscles, he walked with almost a strut. He was dressed in Levis – torn at the knee but clean, a tight-fitting t-shirt with the sleeves missing, and worn brown work boots.
She stood from her chair and walked to him, "Are you Daryl Dixon?"
He was barely audible when he said, "Yeah, that's me."
"Nice to meet you, I'm Beth Greene. Shall we have a look at the unit?" He hadn't looked up, he just nodded a yes. She couldn't decide if he was super shy, or if he felt guilty about something. She showed him the unit, he never said a word, she showed him the yard, he still didn't make a comment.
When the quick tour was done he said, "How much?" and she told him, he just said, "K, I'll take it."
And she said, "Well I need to ask you some questions first."
He still didn't look at her, dang she was thinking, he must be crazy about those shoes he has because he can't take his eyes off of them. But she said, "Where is it you work Daryl?"
"I'm a mechanic at Hog Heaven Motorcycles."
Well that was a start. "How long have you been employed there?" She tried smiling, but he wasn't looking anyway, so what did it matter?
"Been two months." Still no eye contact.
Well geez, she didn't know how she felt about that, it wasn't much time on the job, so she asked, "I see, well what did you do before that?"
"Was in the VA Hospital over in Atlanta for a year, 'fore that I's in the Army six years."
And now she felt like a big jerk, even though she certainly had the right to ask.
But she softened her tone and her heart, "Thank you for serving our country Daryl, the unit is available anytime you'd like to move in."
"K, gonna move in now." And he reached in his pocket, handed her the money in cash and said, "He tol' me I should get a receipt."
"Oh certainly, no problem, so is this other person going to be living here too? I hadn't really counted on that."
"Nah, just my brother, he's lookin' out for me." He certainly looked capable of taking care of himself, but oh well.
They stepped out front and there was a pick-up parked behind his motorcycle. A man stood next to it. He was dressed in a similar style as Daryl, but he looked to be about 10 years older, and even a bit rougher, she assumed this was the brother. Daryl did look up when he looked to this man, he nodded slightly, and the man nodded back.
Beth decided they weren't a talkative bunch, so she just said, "I'll go get your set of keys and your receipt."
In the time it took her to do that, they'd unloaded everything he owned, which amounted to three cardboard boxes and a menacing looking crossbow. "Here are your keys Daryl, if you have any problems, let me know, and welcome to the neighborhood." She tried to sound cheery, and she smiled, but he still hadn't looked up.
The older man said under his breath, "Little brother, mind yer manners."
"Sorry, thank ya Miz Greene." And no one needed to tell her, she knew as well as she knew her own name, Daryl Dixon was in a Deep Blue Funk.
"You're very welcome Daryl, and please call me Beth." Now it was her turn to nod, and she turned and left the little house.
She went back over and sat on her front porch, book in hand. Daryl's front door was open and she heard the older man say, "I know yer scared boy, but ya gotta try. Ya gotta get back in the world a the livin'. Please Daryl, please just try. Give it six months, if it don't work out you can come back n live with me n Carol forever, K?" She felt so bad to have overheard, but worse for what she'd heard. What in the world could this man be scared of?
"K Merle." Was all he'd replied.
15 minutes later the older man came out, he walked over to where she sat on the porch, and he spoke in a low voice, "Name's Merle Dixon miss, I'm Daryl's brother. The boy's had some tough times but he's a real good guy, won't cause ya no trouble, ya got my word. Here's my card, I'd be much obliged if ya call me if sumthin' don't seem right, or if he don't come home, such as that."
"Certainly, I'll call if I notice anything."
He nodded, said "Thank ya kindly, much appreciated," turned, walked to the pick-up, got in and drove off.
And all Beth could think was she had no idea what the hell just happened. She should have done like Glenn said, hired a real estate agent to take care of renting the place out. Then she glanced down at the card, Hog Heaven Motorcycles, Merle Dixon Owner. And she thought, well at least the rent ought to get paid.
Beth, Before
She'd spent nearly two years in what she'd come to call her Deep Blue Funk. Well she supposed if she was giving herself a little credit, the past six months it had changed to more of a Powder Blue Funk.
It had begun one day at the farm, she and Maggie were doing chores, nothing particularly exciting, just the usual routine. They'd gone back inside the house, just about to have a little lunch when a knock came to the door. The news was nothing but horrifying, their parents and their brother had all been killed when the propane tank at Daddy's vet clinic had exploded.
Not only had they lost their family, but it was such an incredibly brutal way to go. They'd made it through the funeral, and they'd trudged through another couple of months, when Maggie announced she thought they should just sell the farm.
Neither one had the spirit anymore that it took to run the place, and Maggie thought they should both just start fresh.
They'd both come into a large sum of money. There was their parents' savings, life insurance, insurance on the business, and the propane company had offered them a huge cash settlement not to sue. It seems the tank was faulty. They were in such a state of shock, they hadn't even thought about suing, but of course the propane company didn't know that.
Now they were both well-to-do women.
They owned a massive amount of good farmland and it sold quickly to some corporate farming outfit. They felt bad selling to a corporation, but not bad enough not to follow through. They definitely needed a change.
And now, they were wealthy women.
But the wealthy women were also devastated women, and they weren't sure what to do next. Maggie's boyfriend Glenn was renting a small two bedroom house in Savannah while he was finishing college, and she and Maggie both moved in with him while Beth tried to decide what to do with her life. It was during this time her Deep Blue Funk got its darkest shade of blue.
The farm was gone, she had no work to occupy her time, and she felt like a third-wheel with Maggie and Glenn. Sure she had lots and lots of money, but so what? She'd lost so much of her family, her love and support system. She decided the best thing may be to just join that family on the other side. Maggie would be free to live her own life, instead of worrying about her, and Beth would be out of pain.
It sure seemed like a win/win to her.
So when Glenn left for classes, and Maggie left for the gym, Beth wrote a short note. Then she calmly went in the bathroom, filled the tub with nice warm water and lots of bubbles, slipped in with the straight razor in her hand, sighed at how good it felt, looked up to heaven, prayed for forgiveness, and made a deep slice in her left wrist. The last thing she remembered was hearing the front door slam and Maggie yelling, "Bethie?"
She woke up in the ER to Maggie crying next to her bed and Glenn trying to comfort Maggie.
Shoot, her plan hadn't worked. She had to stay a mandatory three days in the psychiatric unit, Maggie saw to that. And she was forced to attend counseling for six months. But in the end, she was glad it had happened that way, that her plan had been foiled, because although she was still deep into her Deep Blue Funk, she'd come to the realization she didn't want to die.
Her counselor told her she needed to take positive action, move forward with her life, and so she did. She bought a duplex in town. Nothing too fancy, she wasn't ready to have fancy in her life, she was looking for comfortable. But she knew it was time for her to strike out on her own, probably way past time. And she had to admit, she loved the old school charm of the place. It was one story, had a craftsman look to it, and Beth's favorite part, each of the side by side units had a pretty little front porch.
One unit was a two bedroom with an eat-in kitchen, and a nice size living room. That's the one she planned to live in. The other unit had only one bedroom, but it had a dining room area. She definitely preferred having two bedrooms.
She fell in love with the backyard. Each unit had its own covered back porch and a beautiful little yard with grass, flowers and shrubbery. There was a low vine covered wall between the two yards.
She purchased it on the spot.
She bought lots of cute antique furniture for her unit. She wanted the décor to have the same feel as the old house itself. She made the second bedroom into a music room. She bought a nice keyboard, and of course, she had her guitar. She had a small table and chair for writing her compositions down, and she had another chair that was comfortable for sitting in while playing her guitar.
She'd decided she would devote three hours a day to her music – she didn't really have a career goal, it was just something she wanted to do for herself. She planned to spend another two hours each day as a volunteer at the animal shelter. Mondays and Thursdays she had a standing lunch date with Maggie, and 10 am every Saturday, Glenn cooked Maggie and Beth pancakes at his and Maggie's house.
She figured she was making a lot of progress, and this was when she felt she moved from her Deep Blue Funk to more of a Powder Blue Funk.
For the rental unit, she went more utilitarian. The furnishings were functional, neutral and she supposed attractive, but it just didn't have much personality. Oh well, whoever moved it would bring their personality with them.
xxxx
He'd moved in a week ago. That's right, she couldn't seem to help herself, she did start keeping an eye on Daryl. She didn't want to be some kind of weirdo stalker, but she was curious, and he just seemed so damn sad and lost. And she hated to admit it, but there was something about him, she wasn't sure, but oh alright, she felt a little attraction.
Monday, Wednesday and Friday he didn't get home until 6:30, but Tuesday and Thursday he was home by 5:30. No matter what time he came home, he was always carrying a sack from some fast food joint, and a six pack of beer. Once he was home, he never left again until he went to work the next morning. She often heard music playing, he was definitely into classic country, Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, Waylon and Willie. He never sat out on the front porch, although he did sit out on the back porch, drank his six pack and smoked cigarettes.
Several times during the week his brother stopped by, just for a few minutes, sometimes in the morning, sometimes shortly after Daryl got home.
She was curious as to what the weekend meant, and she found out. For starters, it seemed to mean more beer. He left early Saturday morning and was home within 45 minutes. He had a case of beer bungeed on the back of the motorcycle, and he pulled a couple of bags of chips out of one of the saddlebags. He definitely had lousy eating habits.
After breakfast with Glenn and Maggie, doing her usual chores, laundry, grocery, housekeeping all the necessary stuff that was no fun at all, she went to the back porch thinking she'd read a bit. Standing there up high and all, she had a good view into his backyard, okay sure she felt guilty, but she couldn't help herself. He was lying on his back in the grass, one arm slung over his eyes. In the other hand he held a can of beer. He didn't move for long enough that she was starting to worry, finally he leaned up and took a drink of the beer, and she knew he'd noticed her, so she tried to act casual, she raised her hand to give him a small wave, he nodded that head ever so slightly, then immediately looked down. Shoot, now she'd definitely embarrassed herself, and she was pretty sure she'd embarrassed him.
That evening she hung out in her music room and worked a while on a song she was writing. When she lost her inspiration, she started playing some of those old classics she'd heard him listening to, dammit, he'd given her a couple of ear worms.
She finally called it a day about 11. She was sound asleep when she woke to a loud crashing noise, and she heard him screaming and yelling like he was being murdered.
She should have stopped to think, but she didn't. She grabbed the extra set of keys to his apartment and ran over there. She knocked first, yelling "Daryl, Daryl are you alright?" But when he didn't answer after several attempts, she unlocked his door and went in.
Later she would realize how stupid that was on so many levels. What was she going to do if he was being murdered, tell whoever it was to just stop it right now? And she'd totally disrespected his privacy. But she hadn't thought about any of that.
She ran toward the bedroom and flipped on the light. He was flailing around in the bed, screaming "No, this can't happen, y'all can't do that, ain't right," and then just a whole lot of unintelligible stuff. She wasn't thinking; she was acting on instinct. She went over to the bed and grabbed him, she held on to him tightly, "Daryl, wake up, Daryl, it's a nightmare."
When he finally did wake up, he looked at her, obviously confused, "The fuck is goin' on?"
She could feel her face turn bright red. "I'm sorry Daryl, I heard you screaming in here, I banged on the door and called your name, but you didn't answer, I was so worried. I apologize."
"Ain't I got no right ta privacy? I paid my money, thought it was my place," he was angry, no doubt about it, but more than that, she could tell he was mortified. And she'd noticed something else, his chest and his back were covered with scars, like he'd been whipped. He saw her look, grabbed the t-shirt that was lying on the floor by the bed, and quickly put it on.
"Better get on home n just leave me be. Go on," and he no longer seemed angry, just so despondent.
It was 2 a.m., she was in her nightgown in a man's apartment who she didn't even really know, and she was now as embarrassed as him, "Sorry Daryl, it won't happen again, I'll lock it on my way out."
And as she turned to leave she heard him mumble, "Thanks for givin' a fuck Greene." And she smiled.
She saw Merle come for him the next day about 11. He was in his truck and she noticed he had his arm around Daryl's shoulders as he walked him to the truck, then he put a hand on each of Daryl's shoulders and talked to him a few minutes, Daryl never said anything, but when Merle was done, he nodded in agreement to whatever it was, and they both got in the truck.
God, she felt like a total stalker now, she knew she had a strong case of of attraction and curiosity.
They didn't come back until nearly 4, Merle got out of the truck and walked him to the door, she thought that was odd, a man walking another man to the door, but the whole dang thing was odd.
xxxx
Three weeks later and there was nothing new, the routine never changed. But she'd gotten the urge to try a little something just to see if maybe it would draw him out a bit. She waited until she knew he was out on his back porch, the sound of the pop top and the smell of the cigarette were dead giveaways for that. She had her guitar in hand and she leaned over that low wall and said, "Hi Daryl, I've heard music coming from your apartment and I couldn't help but notice you listen to a lot of old school country. I was just wondering, would you mind listening to a song I wrote and giving me your honest opinion?"
She was pretty sure that, besides the night she woke him from a nightmare, it was the first time he'd ever looked at her, he shrugged one shoulder and answered, "K."
Well one thing for sure, he wasn't going to be talking her ear off. "Can I jump the fence and just come over there, or would you like to come out front and meet me on my porch? I have a brand new six pack of beer."
And again, the most talkative man in the world said, "K."
Well she wasn't sure which one he meant, but she was just going to take a chance, she took the guitar, the music sheet, and two cans of beer to the front porch. He was there, sitting on the top step, head down. "Here you go Daryl, nice and frosty." She handed him that beer and he popped that top and she swore he swallowed half the can his first drink.
She started the song and she noticed he closed his eyes, and now when he had his head down it seemed more like he was listening intently, rather than just avoiding eye contact, but maybe that was wishful thinking on her part.
She'd like to think the song had meaning, but she'd definitely decided she didn't want to make it too sad, his Deep Blue Funk was deep and dark enough.
She finished the song and asked most sincerely, "What do you think Daryl?"
"I don't think it probably matters much what I think, I'm nobody, nuthin', but I like it real good. Ya got a pleasing voice Miz Greene."
And she knew right then, there was nothing she wanted more than to see Daryl Dixon rise up out of his Deep Blue Funk.
"Thank you so much Daryl, and your opinion does matter to me, I know you like country music, and please, call me Beth. Now how about another beer and I'll give you the Beth Greene rendition of some of the old classics?"
"K." Well who needs to talk when there's beer and music?
For the next hour she played her songs and he listened quietly, and he drank his beers, and he seemed content with that. Then suddenly, he looked at his watch, he rose quickly and said, "I gotta get home Beth, thanks for the beers, oh, and the music. I liked it."
And just like that, he was gone.
A/N And so our story begins. Thank you so much for reading this fic, it will be updated weekly. I'd appreciate hearing your thoughts, please review xo
