AU where Hershel is still a hopeless drunk, Beth is deeply sad and Daryl might be a little hopelessly drunk himself.
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The valley was her small hideaway from the world, including her family. She'd hike up her some nights with a blanket, a bottle of water and a sandwich to get away from the lights of the city. She'd lie down her blanket and collapse on it, surrounded by flowers and thriving plants.
It was the best thing to be alone with her own thoughts just to think and try to make constellations from the stars even if they weren't there. Sometimes she'd pretend she was stargazing with a boy who'd hold her hand and tell her that she was shining as bright as the shooting star that crossed the beautiful sky.
She'd try to spot Jupiter and Venus but she wasn't an astronomer for a reason. She probably could've been if she wanted to; studied enough. She loved trying to match the stars together to make her name but the furthest she ever got was 'Beth Gre' and even after that, she kept trying but usually never made it past the first letter of her last name.
Maggie never bothered to ask where she went whenever she left the house with her backpack and no explanation.
Maybe they knew where she went, I mean, what possible trouble could the teenager get into?
Beth stared up at the sky, focused on counting each freckle in the night, trying to piece together constellations like a dot-to-dot in a children's activity book.
Despite a drunk wandering into the field, the night couldn't be more perfect. The blonde hadn't noticed though, too wrapped up in her thoughts to notice.
It was a soulless night of sleeping people in their beds, one teenager finding beauty in things others couldn't and one man with thoughts more twisted than a pair of earphones.
The drunk grew closer and closer, eventually cursing out loud as he tricked over her small body.
Immediately she leant up, eyes wide in fear. "What are you doing? Are you okay?" she asked, reaching out to touch him. "Sir, are you drunk? You smell of alcohol."
"I'm fine!" he grumbled, knocking away her arm. "What are ya doing lying on the floor?"
"What are you doing stumbling around drunk in a field?" she countered, helping him lean up despite his protests.
"Maggie always said that drinking water helps," she said, leaving the man's side to find her bottle.
When she finally found it, she ran back over.
Beth held it to his lips, demanding he drink. "Here," she said, watching his gulp it down uneasily. "There we go."
The man gave her a quizzical look before muttering a quick thanks.
"Do you need help getting home?" she asked, her hand holding his bicep to keep him steady. "My truck is back at the farm, I could give you a ride."
Noticing his concern, she added, "If you want that is."
The man shook his head in protest. "Nah, rather trip over more blondes than go home to that sh-"
"No cussing," she said, slapping his knee lightly.
He just nodded.
"I've never been drunk before," she admitted, biting her lip. "I'm Beth, by the way."
He took her confident hand in his before shaking it. "Daryl."
"Like, Daryl Dixon?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Ya heard of me?"
"Only the bad stuff," she replied quietly. "I don' believe it though, too smart. Gotta judge someone for myself. Besides, from the way I hear it, your dad is the real bad one."
Daryl brought the bottle of water to his lips, sipping it slowly. "Slowly turning into 'im though."
"A fool would believe that but not me. See, I'm not a fool, Mr. Dixon."
"That so?" he asked, allowing himself to smirk at her.
"It is," she insisted. "Are you hungry? I have a sandwich if you want. Might help settle your stomach," she offered, digging around in her backpack before producing a few slices of something between bread. "Here we go; chicken and cheese."
Without hesitation, she handed it to him. "You're probably hungry," she said, thrusting it at him. "Go ahead, take it.
So he took it.
Beth watched as he ate it, staring at him with curious eyes.
He paused mid-bite, meeting her eyes. "What?"
"Never been with someone else here before. Usually it's my special spot, where I come to get away from it all. It's nice to have someone else here, though. I'm so used to being alone. It's nice."
Daryl nodded, returning his attention back to the food in his hands.
"I just thought the first time I brought someone up here it would be a boy that I love-"
"Sorry I ruined it," he grumbled, taking another bite of bread, chicken and cheese.
"No!" she said softly, "You didn't ruin it. I just didn't imagine it going like this. I mean, neither of us probably did."
Daryl didn't say anything, just finished the sandwich and wiped his hands on his jeans.
"Thanks."
"No problem," she said, smiling. "So, do you wanna maybe stargaze with me? It'd be nice to have some company. I mean, if you'd rather go and fall over more blondes in secluded fields, that's fine with me too. I just thought it'd be nice to offer."
He was in no position to turn her down in his drunken state so he lied down beside her on his back.
"They're pretty, hey?" she asked, her voice as sweet as sugar. "It's nice to escape the lights of the city. Can't see the stars like this with all those lights."
He didn't say anything, just stiffens when she slides her hand into his.
"I don't know why anyone would wanna live in the city," she continued. "Can't see the night sky, the beauty of it all. It's kind of sad."
Daryl squeezed her hand because he's drunk and she's cute and of all the blondes lying in secluded fields, he was glad he tripped over her.
"Sometimes, I used to pretend I was a star. Just as a kid, before my mother died. She used to tell me I shined brighter than any of the stars in the sky and that it was the reason why I had such blonde hair; I was a star. It was nice as a kid but now it seems so foolish."
He noticed the way she inched closer to him but doesn't say anything. It was a cold night, she was probably looking for warmth.
"I never wanted to drink as a kid because my dad was an alcoholic. I used to look at him whenever he wasn't sober and think 'I don't wanna be like him'. I think that's why I've never drank. Never wanted to be like him, ever. I didn't think it was fair being an alcoholic; could never do it to my family."
Daryl grunted in reply, not knowing what to say.
"Sorry, I'm rambling and you're drunk so it probably isn't easy for you to keep up. I'll stop, Daryl."
"S'okay," he said, turning his head to look at her.
Beth turned her own head to meet his eyes and smiled at him warmly before looking back up at the darkness surrounding them.
"Maggie-my older sister- drinks but never a lot because I hate it. I remember on her twenty-first she came home drunk and I started crying and yelling but I was about seventeen and she collapsed on the ground and I called an ambulance. They came to get her and the next morning I didn't even go to see her in the hospital because I was so mad and we didn't speak for three weeks."
Beth paused, glancing at him to see if he was still listening before she continued talking. "I felt silly avoiding her and I made Shawn- my older brother- drive me to school each day for those three weeks even though it was in the opposite direction of where he worked and I think he was kinda annoyed at me for it but I'm God awfully stubborn. Maggie never got drunk after that, she always had coke when she goes out with her friends. I feel bad for it because it's my fault I'm ruining her fun."
The blonde tugged on the top of her shirt and brought it to her eyes to wipe them gently. Daryl had barely noticed she was crying but when he did, he grasped her hand a little tighter hoping it gave her some sort of comfort.
"I'll never drink," she said quieter. "People drink to forget, not to have fun. Mum used to tell me that Daddy drunk because he was sad, never had a good life, but when he did drink, he never remembered us and I know that I used to think he wanted to forget me but I'll never know if it's true because I'll never ask him. Tomorrow, you probably won't remember me but it's okay because I'm used to."
"I-I don't want to forget you."
It sounded ridiculous and so out of character but he had to say it, had to bring some sort of hope and warmth to the crying blonde.
"Thanks, Daryl Dixon."
He stayed silent, her small frame snuggling up closer.
"Sorry," she sniffed, wrapping a shaking arm around his waist, "it's cold."
But being honest, Daryl didn't mind, and being honest, neither did Beth.