Since the day Elizabeth Greene was born, she had puckered pink and white lashes splayed across her back. In fact, for the entirety of her twenty years of life, her body was a canvas of deep purple bruises and other particular cuts and breaks. When the soul marks appeared on Beth's body, usually every day a new one, a tingling warmth would pour out over her skin, indicating that her soulmate had just taken another injury.
Momma used to tell Beth, "Let's hope your prince charming has good health insurance. For his sake and ours," she'd tease in a soft voice, trying to relieve Beth's tension when a particularly awful mark showed up. "If he's a proper gentleman, he'll offer to pay off all these hospital visits."
Beth would just give her mother a small, sad smile. The constant soul markings that showed up on Beth's body worried her to no end. Not knowing where, how, or why her soulmate was getting hurt so often, so vigorously, kept her awake at night in bewilderment. Every night, she prayed for the stranger that branded her body. She'd wrap her arm around herself, tracing the scar tissue of her soulmates old wound gently.
Her parents and siblings were always trying to reassure Beth when she'd get a soul mark. They'd laugh and tease, taking guesses at what he did for a living, always coming up with answers like professional fighter of some sort, or a soldier serving his country.
But she knew better. She knew exactly what they said about her constant markings, what they thought it really meant. That her soulmate, whoever they were out in the world, was either the kind of man a young woman like Beth shouldn't associate herself with, or a man who was in trouble. Her daddy and older brother Shawn had a tendency to lean towards the former.
The kids at school talked, too. The first few times Beth had awoke in the middle of the night to a pair of fresh black eyes and a bloody nose, she stayed home from school for a week until her eyes could be concealed with makeup. But, she could only miss school so many times, and well.. Her soulmate seemed to get hit in the face quite a bit more than anticipated. And kids talked, asking her all sorts of bizarre questions about someone and she never knew the answers.
In grade school, her constant battered appearance scared the other kids away, but as they got older and had their own soul markings, they understood and saw past it. But by high school, when the boys started coming' 'round Beth like a bear to honey, the boys started to get pushy.
"Beth, why are you gonna wait around for some pussy who can't even protect himself?" Was the usual jist of their attempts to get her to go out with them. "Why wait around forever that when I can just take you out tonight instead?"
Beth, being raised to always be kind to others, would politely decline, choosing to ignore the crude words that always followed. Prude. Cock tease. Lesbo. Virgin Mary. After going four years of high school without dating anybody, in a small town in Georgia, people finally caught on that she had already taken.
Traditionally, in most cultures, letting others see your soul markings meant that you were committing yourself to your soulmate, whether or not they were directly in your life. Beth, obviously, was the latter. They said that a soul bond tied two people together, fate inventably drawing them into each others lives.
Beth had been raised on promises of one day meeting her prince charming, her true love. Of a fairy tail wedding, right here on her family's farm. Hopeless romantics. And for a long time, Beth believed that could be her future, if she just waited long enough.
By the time she had turned twenty, she was starting to resent her never ending soul marks. Resent her soulmate, even. She wanted something to happen already. She wanted the worrying, the wondering, hopefully the broken bones and scars to stop being so frequent. She started to second guess just how strictly she should be following tradition. She was only human and she intimacy and affection. She started to think, y'know, what if her soul mate wasn't as committed as she had been? It seemed like everyone, heck, even momma and daddy, went on dates and went steady before finding their soulmate. It took her parents forty-five years to find each other—how long would Beth be waiting?
Beth figured after a while that it wouldn't hurt to go out on a date. That's when she started seeing a boy named Jimmy, a boy from her graduating class that went to the same church as her, a real southern gentleman. He spoke sweetly to her, taking her out on dates, going as slow as she wanted, knowing she had never done any type of dating before.
It was mostly innocent-hand holding, cuddling, soft shy kisses, that's all. Only a few times did they explore Beth's sexual awakening. When she kissed Jimmy, and let him touch her, she'd start to realize on what she had been missing for so long.
The first time he had slipped his hand slowly up her dress and to her underwear, a soul mark began burning in her eyes and her nose began to bleed. She cursed loudly, frustrated, cursing her soulmate, wishing for just a moment that for the first time that her soul marks would just stop for a while.
But then the going out on dates every Friday, breakfast at the mom and pop diner on Sunday mornings after church, all that had to stop once the flu epidemic started. Once people started getting deathly ill, Hershel forbad his three children from going out unless it was absolutely necessary until the flu blew over—so Jimmy started coming over the Greene's farm most days of the week.
Even though Daddy kept telling Beth that everything was fine, ignoring the news, promising that they'd be fine—the illness took her mother away, not even two weeks after the news stations said the sickness was invading Georgia. And then it took Jimmy's family, too, and Hershel brought him in.
The first two weeks were rough, with her momma passing and Jimmy following her around like a lost puppy. She kept herself busy, trying to keep the normal domestic routine. Her horse, Nelly, had gotten an awful lot of attention. When Beth was with Nelly, no one came around to bother her. She'd sit in the barn and trace over a soul mark that wasn't a temporary bruise, like the white scar on the inside of her thumb. It was only then that she realized she hadn't gotten a single soul mark in two days.
Two days turned into two weeks. Beth feverishly checked herself throughout the day, quietly excusing herself to go into the bathroom and inspect her body for some bruise, somethin', anythin'. She didn't know what she was going to do with herself if she lost the one thing the universe promised her.
After two weeks and four days without any soul marks, she felt a sharp familiar heat under her left collar bone. She let out the sweetest breath of relief, tugging her shirt collar down to look at the mark, but there wasn't anything appearing.
She went into the bathroom and took off her t-shirt, inspecting herself in the mirror. Several minutes went by before she saw it. She saw it happening! Slowly, a small black "X" was being tattooed- very slowly- onto her soulmate. She watched as a thin black line became thicker and thicker, then watch the other line crossing through it in amazement. She bit her lip, smiling, feeling sickenly sweet with hope.
Daryl Dixon had always been covered in scars and he knew they were always just his scars.
Everyone he knew growin' up already had gotten their precious little 'markings.' He heard the stories. How they felt when they were branded onto your skin, the warmth that spreads as you share an identical mark, temporary or for as long as you live, appears out of thin air. Feelin' some connection deeper than yourself. Yeah, he heard all about it.
His old man and his mom definitely weren't soul mates, because Daryl's dad beat the hell outta his mom when he was real little, she'd be covered in welts, bruises. That was before Merle was big enough to fight back and step in, but then mom died, Merle left, and all the old sonuvabitch had left was Daryl to knock from room to room on his binges.
It was just his luck he didn't have any typ'a soulmate. He figures, better off that way, he didn't want that, that ain't what he was gonna be doin' with his life. So when he was sixteen and Merle came back around after being in the army, Daryl took what he could carry and left his old man and never looked back.
Merle somehow got Daryl to do the stupidest shit. Merle was the only family Daryl ever had, only one to ever give a damn. Daryl wanted to prove to Merle that he could do whatever Merle could, no questions asked. Everything was a contest competition with Merle to prove himself worthy of holding the Dixon name.
It wasn't until he was he wasn't until he was eighteen years old that Daryl got his first mark. Two years on the road with Merle, spitting and swearin' every time he received a soul mark about what a fucking mistake it was to have already found her.
(He found her, all right, but street drugs found Merle's soulmate first. In her eyes, her first and only soulmate was what she could shoot up her arm. Daryl knew Merle well enough that he blamed himself for not findin' her in time before she was too far gone to come back. And now, let's remember, this is Merle Dixon we're talkin' about. Nobody loves a good high better than him. But it's all in moderation with recreation. So if Merle said she was too far gone, Daryl had no doubt in his mind she needed some real help.)
It was a a mediocre gash on the side of his head, above his ear. Daryl hissed in shock, his hand shooting up to touch the fresh wound, his breathing getting heavy as his head rushed with a sort of buzz. He was so overwhelmed by the feeling, the tugging on his heart, the disbelief that all that silly sappy cliché shit was true, that he didn't even attempt to stop his eyes from rolling to the top of his head and passing out on the floor at the pool hall the brothers were hustling at.
Merle gave him shit about it for weeks, callin' him a little bitch, askin' him if he was gonna go run off into the sunset with his one true love. Daryl would tell him to fuck off, and the next time he got a soul mark, he kept a stone cold face. It was never anything serious, or nothing Daryl hadn't had to deal with himself, but a deep down part of him anticipated the days on days of waiting to feel a bruise on his shin or a paper cut. He wasn't too happy when his soulmate fractured her foot, therefore his foot, because he spent a lot of time runnin' away from people.
Following Merle around for almost twenty years was not what Daryl imagined when he left his old man's at sixteen. Merle didn't really have friends. He had people who tolerated him, and people who wanted to beat the shit out of him. And Merle Dixon will never turn down a challenge.
Most nights turn into drunken bar fights, Merle throwing the first punch and Daryl right behind to back his big brother up. Daryl wasn't as big as Merle, but he had a decent amount of strength, and he could take a pretty hard beating. His trick in fights, especially drunk fights, was to let the other guy tire themselves out while whaling on Daryl, and once they're winded, Daryl'd take'm down and they'd be on their way no worse for wear. It didn't occur for a very long time that his soulmate probably looked like a rag doll because of him.
It turned out, though, once Merle was gone, Daryl stopped (physically) fighting most men he met. At the very least, the men he was staying with after the dead started walkin'.
The last thing he expected to happen was to find his soulmate after nearly getting his head blown off.
Beth's daddy had warned her to stay away from the group of strangers who had come to stay with them as of late. A little boy, named Carl, was accidently shot by her daddy's friend Otis. Hershel was able to save him, and they ended up having many more mouths to feed.
Beth hadn't realized how much she missed other people until she spoke with the other woman and the younger man, Glenn. She felt a little shy around the sheriff, Carl's father, named Rick Grimes, and uncomfortable by the hostility another man (who also turned out to be a cop) Shane.
Jimmy was already acting too big for his britches once the group arrived. Suddenly, he was in.. Well, Beth could honestly only think of it as a 'pissing contest' between Jimmy and the men of Rick's group, expect Jimmy was the only one participating. She was sitting with him in the kitchen, pouring each of them a glass of lemonade.
"That redneck is a jackass." Jimmy told Beth. "Believes in Chupacabra and when I said I need a gone if I'm gonna protect you and our family, he said somethin' like 'People in hell want slurpee's'."
Beth rolled her eyes at Jimmy, shaking her head slightly as her father walked in.
"Hershel! Mr. Greene, I-I-" Jimmy stuttered, standing up. "One of Rick's men took one of the horses. To look for the little girl."
Hershel was still in the doorway, face heavy with disappointment. "Bethy, come with me to the stables, let see who's missing." He suggested with a sigh.
Beth stood up quicker than she meant to, but she wouldn't mind stepping away from Jimmy when he's calling their guests jackasses. She hadn't spoken to Mr. Dixon more than a murmur of hello in passing, only earning a grunt in response from him. As much as she'd like to get to know all the people from Atlanta, she didn't want to put anyone in the corner for conversation.
Beth and Hershel made their way to the stables, checking for each horse. By the look of the open gate on Nelly's stable in the back of the, Mr. Dixon had taken her horse, and not only was it her horse, but Nelly was.. Nervous. Nervous Nelly. Beth never took her into the forest, she was spooked so easily, even by a squirrel. The Greene's owned plenty of acres for Beth to ride Nelly without either of them having a bad time.
"Bethy, will you go find Rick and tell him I'd like to speak to him for a moment?" Hershel said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She nodded, walking across the yard towards the makeshift camp, finding Mr. Grimes and his wife Lori.
"Mr. Grimes? My dad wants to talk to you." Beth spoke up, hoping the conversation she was interrupting wasn't too important. She knew her daddy was upset and didn't want the guests to overstay their welcome, but Beth couldn't help but want them to stay a little bit longer.
Lori sighed and turned towards Beth, pursing her lips, deep in thought. "Is everything okay?"
"I-I was gonna ask you the same thing," Beth admitted. "Mr. Dixon just took one of our horses without my dad's A-okay and he just wants to talk about.. Boundaries, I guess."
Lori let out a huff this time. "'Course he did. Beth, I'm gonna let you in on a secret. Men? They have thick skulls. Once they get an idea, it's hard to convince them otherwise, and vice versa.
Now, some men, they would'a given up on looking for Sophia out in those woods. Bein' a little girl lost in the woods isn't a good thing even when everything was right in the world. But Daryl—Mr. Dixon—he seems to be the only one that-" She trailed off at the end, looking away and running her hand through her face. "Daryl's gotta thick skull, I knew that right when I met him. But he is doin' more than any of us to find Sophia. I'm sorry Daryl took your horse without askin'. He won't apologize for it 'cause I don't think he's sorry for doing whatever it takes to... find her."
"I wish there was somethin' I could do to help. You guys seem like you're ready for anythin'. May I can ask Dad-" Beth stopped, taking a deep breath in as she felt a soul mark burning its way onto her forehead. A shiver went down her spine as she brought her hand to her new mark, a bit of blood from a small gash.
"Beth, are you okay?" Lori asked, stepping forward and placing a hand on her forehead. "Let me check that out. I know it probably doesn't hurt one bit.."
"Daddy'll stitch me up, this happens a lot." Beth confessed, her eyes lazily shut as she let herself feel the soul marks warmth make her chest feel light. "My... He... I don't know, but I think he likes to carve me up."
Lori chuckled, shaking her head at the young blonde. "I definitely know a mark when I see one. That's what you get when your soulmate is a cop."
Beth opened her mouth to reply, but suddenly her vision went black and she was doubled over. Another mark was slowly pushing it's way through the side of her abdomen. It didn't hurt, but it felt just as intense as the new cut on her forehead. Her ears rang and her cheeks flushed red. "Oh my god," she managed, her voice gasped. The only thing she could compare how her body felt was the feeling she got when she smoked weed a couple of times in high school. Her body felt fuzzy and warm and alert.
"Beth, oh my god, that is- that is a lot of blood, c'mon honey, let's get your dad," Lori ushered quickly, wrapping an arm around Beth, who stood up straight and blinked several times, moving with Lori.
"It's never felt this- it's like-" Beth tried to explain, looking down at her now blood soaked pink blouse. "I don't know. It's never felt so strong before. I think it- I felt the mark inside of me- do you, do you think he got shot-?" Beth asked, frightful of how easy it is to get shot these days, especially right after what happened to Carl.
"Jimmy? I don't know what on earth he is doin' to be givin' you these marks," Lori admitted as they were withinout shouting distance of Mr. Grimes and Hershel. "Hershel! Hershel, Beth is bleeding from a soul mark in her abdomen."
"Jimmy? No- no, I haven't met him yet. Jimmy's just a guy I was datin'-" Beth started to explain to her new friend, but Rick and Hershel were quick to get Beth inside and onto the same bed that Carl had laid on only days before. Lori stood next to Beth, holding her hand and smoothing her hair out of her face.
"What has that boy done this time?" Hershel asked hypothetically, examining Beth's bleeding side. "Bethy, all I can do is keep it disinfected and cover it with gauze." Next he looked at her forehead. "Clean your head too, put a butterfly bandage on it so you don't have to stitch yourself up." He reached behind himself to the nightstand, which had a typical amount of first aid equipment since this room seemed to become a hospital bed once Carl was shot.
Beth nodded, blinking slowly. She had lost a lot of blood quickly and felt dizzy as can be. She felt her father cleaning her wound, Lori staying with her, holding her hand, stroking her hair. Rick shuffled uncomfortably, unsure of what to say or do.
"Where's Jimmy?" Rick asked in a serious tone and Hershel let out a barking laugh.
"These markings are not from Jimmy, as much as he wishes they were." Hershel said. "Bethy, are you in any pain?"
"Yeah, well, no, I just—um! Mr. Grimes, will you please get me a glass of lemonade?" Beth said quickly, letting the uncomfortable looking man duck out of the room. She was embarassed to talk about her soulmate in front of Mr. Grimes. "Daddy, it was different. It was so strong. Took my breath away. Do you think he's okay? Can someone," Beth sighed, shutting her eyes. "If he's all alone out there, or without knowin' how to clean it, is he gonna live?"
Daryl had one helluva day. He got knocked off a horse, fell down the side of steep mudslide, and landed on one of his arrows. Right through the goddamn side, just missing his ribs, he figured. But he managed to find Sophia's doll that she always carried with her. That means she was there, that she's out there.
He stumbled into the farms property, breathing heavily. His head hung low, he peaked at his group as they rushed at him with weapons.
Daryl stopped, breathing heavy, as once again, Rick Grimes heald his Colt Python in his face.
"Is that Daryl?" Glenn asked, dumbfounded.
"That's the third time you pointed that thing at my head!" Daryl exclaimed at Rick. "You gonna pull the trigger or what?"
Rick lowered his gun, only to have a gunshot go off in the distance and shoot Daryl in the head, who immediately slumped to the ground.
"No!" Rick screamed, looking back at Andrea, who was holding one of their snipers on top of the RV. "No, no, no!"
From the front porch, Lori the Greene family, minus Beth, ran towards everyone.
"What on Earth's goin' on out here?!" Hershel hollared as Rick and Shane started to pull Daryl to his feet.
His hand reached up and gingerly touched the part of his temple that was hit by the bullet. "I was kidding," Daryl explained, sounding pissed before he went unconscious.
Beth sat immobilized in the bedroom as everyone was outside. There had been a gunshot and lots of screaming, but Beth couldn't think, because before she could even react to go see what the commotion was, a third soul mark seared on her left temple.
She felt euphoric. For almost every soul mark she has gotten, she's always wished for a moment she could stay feeling that euphoria forever, feeling secure with herself and her place in the universe and the tie to her soulmate. In this moment, right now, she knows that he's out there, somewhere, and at the very least, alive in that moment.
After a few deep breaths, she was able to get out of her post-mark daze and carefully approach the window. It was—was that Mr. Dixon? She tried to leave the bedroom, but her father quickly moved in.
"Beth, Daryl's was shot at by a bullet and it scraped a bit of scalp off his temple. Will you clean the wound and sew it while I work on his stomach?" Hershel asked, but it wasn't really a question, so she sat out of the way while Daryl was carried in and placed on the bed before going over to his... She looked down at him, assessing the damage done to his forehead before touching her own fresh mark, which no one had noticed yet, checking three times to see if her soul mark was on the left side like Mr. Dixon's.
"Oh," was all Beth could manage when she finally learned who her soulmate was.