Beth had never been one for taking risks-hell, she'd even been hesitant to pick up a gun for the first time-but something about having the burly redneck with her made that trait...disappear. She wanted to prove to him, and to herself, that she was more than another causality in the raging war against the dead and alive. She refused to be just another dead girl, which she knew was exactly what Daryl saw her as. She'd told herself over and over that she was more than another rotting corpse in the making, and she was starting to believe it; she needed to believe it.
She didn't know how long it'd been since the prison fell, a week maybe, but it felt like so much longer. Knowing that Luke was dead wasn't something that had cheered her up following the brutal murder of her father, though it hadn't exactly changed her either. She had cried, and she knew Daryl thought it was because of the loss of one of their group members, but it hadn't been. It should have been, but the tears broke free because when she saw that mangled body, the only thought that came to mind was her own body ending up like that. The thought terrified her, and even if she never planned on sharing that piece of information with the hunter, she also wasn't about to confirm his thoughts. She was already certain that he thought she was weak and the more reason she gave him to think that, the more likely it'd be that he'd leave her for dead. She wouldn't put that past him, at least-he was related to Merle, after all.
Shoving that thought to the side, Beth turned her attention back to the remains of the squirrel the two had feasted over. It wasn't an ideal lunch, but it was all they had-their supplies had to be left behind when The Governor attacked the prison for what she was sure was the third time. She refused to think about that though; now wasn't the time to think about her deceased father. It was time to get up and moving to find some place safe to hole up for the night. Hearing Daryl sift through the few things they had with them, probably searching for a water bottle or something of equal relevance, the blonde took it upon herself to stand up and search the surrounding area. She didn't want walkers to pop in on them uninvited, much less cause any harm to her or Daryl.
Things had always been awkward between the two of them, even more so since she hugged him following Zach's death, but that didn't change the fact that Beth loved him and needed him to stay alive. He was as much family to her as Maggie is, even if she'd never state that aloud. At least, not until he did as well. She didn't need him to though-she knew he felt the same way for her, even if he'd only spoken a few words to her since they fled the prison. He wouldn't have stuck around if she didn't mean something to him, regardless of the minor skills she had with handling the dead.
She'd never really given much thought to killing them, didn't want to, but some things just happened. Beth and Daryl just happened to end up in the same group back at the farm, they just happened to end up fleeing the prison together, and even now, as he searched for that water bottle and she double checked the perimeter of their makeshift camp, they just happened to be on the same page. It wasn't like any of this was meant to happen; Hershel was never supposed to die, they were never supposed to get separated from the group, Beth was never supposed to be without Maggie, nobody was supposed to come back to life after dying just to rip the flesh off those still living. Things just came to be and no God Beth could ever believe in could change that.
Her feet crunching against dead leaves and sticks was enough noise to draw a lurking walker close to them, and she would've thought that Daryl would point it out and maybe tell her to be quiet, but no words left his mouth and no stench of the dead traveled to her nostrils. After returning to her old position of sitting cross legged on a makeshift blanket with her back against the rough bark of a tree, a quiet sigh left twin flesh, shaky fingers raising to rub at her temples. Her head was pounding from exhaustion, though she didn't state that as blue hues trailed up to the much older man. A content grunt came from him as he pulled the near empty bottle out, tossing it up before catching it again. Standing up and closing the short distance to the blonde, a rough, calloused hand reached out, the bottle inches away from her.
Gentle hands dropped, one taking the bottle from him, a smile creeping onto her lips as she did so. Before saying a word, she took a small sip of the warm water. Wiping her mouth on her hand, she handed it back to Daryl so he could get a drink too. "Thank you." It wasn't much, but it was something. Things had been too quiet between them, even if neither was much up for constant speaking. The man just shrugged as he waved her off. "Keep i'. Ya need it more than ah do." The southern drawl from the man was laced with something she could only recognize as concern, though she knew it had to be something more than that. She didn't bother trying to figure it out though, instead just nodding and pulling the bottle back to her, allowing it to rest in her lap. No need to waste it all at once-she was smarter than that.
With sunset being just a few hours away, they both agreed that they had to get moving. They weren't about to let themselves get caught outside in the dark, especially with as many walkers as there were in this area. They were still wandering about from the gunshots at the prison, even days later, and it left an unsettling feeling in the pit of the blonde's stomach. She didn't have the energy to deal with a herd and knew she wouldn't be able to live with herself if Daryl sacrificed himself to the dead to protect her. He'd have more sense than that, she was sure of it. Even if he didn't, it would probably be for naught. She wouldn't be able to escape by herself, and even if she did, she wouldn't last long. Any store not overrun by walkers would be empty and she didn't know how to hunt. If she didn't get devoured by the dead, she'd probably starve before she found Rick or Maggie.
She didn't want to think about it any longer though-Daryl wasn't gonna leave her. Not now, not ever. He couldn't. With mutual silence, they made their was through the dense foliage, Daryl's footsteps silent, Beth's loud enough to scare away any animals and lure any nearby walkers. He didn't say anything at first, though his hand came out to stop her as soon as a second set of feet were audible. Beth wasn't afraid or even nervous; one walker was nothing and it was quickly dispatched by the hunter as soon as it made itself visible. She didn't move, not until he came back up to her. His stance wasn't threatening, but he did get closer to her than she was accustomed to.
"Need ta get yer footsteps quieter." His words were quiet, his hand pushing his crossbow back up to his shoulder. Beth wasn't surprised by his statement; she was aware of it, even if she didn't know how to do so. It didn't take long for Daryl to explain how to watch out for crunchy leaves and fallen branches and sticks. With a few gentle touches and reminders, it took no longer than a few minutes for both of them to be walking in near silence, Beth's hand occasionally falling on Daryl's muscled arm if she had to step over an exceptionally large branch.
The two of them made their was through the trees and found themselves in a town, buildings high and abandoned surrounding them. A few walkers shambled by, a few moments passing before a breeze brought the scent of the living towards them. Rheumy eyes turned towards them, groans escaping the rotting throats of the dead as they began making their way to the pair. Just a split second later, Beth and Daryl were running to the right, their rushed footsteps echoing across the pavement. Heavy breaths left their lips as they took several turns to throw the walkers off for as long as possible. It wouldn't last long, though, but they didn't have a choice. At least a dozen walkers were following them, hungry moans carrying through the air along with the breaths of Daryl and Beth.
As they rounded another corner, Daryl pulled the blonde inside a hopefully empty building. The shelves and clothing racks that surrounded them were almost bare, the only things left being unwanted tank tops and shorts, along with cans of animal food and things such as hair brushes. A rough hand wrapped around Beth's arm and pulled her away from the glass doors. They made their way to the back, Beth grabbing one of the brushes on their way. It wasn't necessary, but she'd like to deal with the tangles. It made things seem better than they actually were and as dangerous as false hope was, it brought her the comfort she so desperately needed since Shane had the nerve to open up that barn.
When Daryl motioned to her that the office was clear, she hurried inside and helped him push the desk against the door in case the walkers broke through the glass doors of the small store. Once they were certain that nobody could get at them, they settled in the far corner, Daryl using their makeshift blanket to dust away any cobwebs. Beth sat herself down against the wall, pulling her blonde hair out of its mussy ponytail. Carefully running the brush through her golden locks, she simply smiled up at the rugged man who had been left to give her a questioning look. She didn't explain herself, knew she didn't have to, even as he moved to sit beside her. A good foot of space was still between them, which was better than it had been for the past few days. The first night, he hadn't even slept beside her and even when he gave in, he still kept at least two yards of space between their makeshift beds. She didn't complain though; as long as they were alive, it didn't matter how comfortable he was around her.
He didn't speak though, and the continuing noise of the walkers outside was enough to drive Beth crazy. Finishing with her hair, she carefully placed the brush down, pulling her knees to her chest. Drowning out the noise wasn't easy and she knew he'd probably tell her to be quiet, but she still allowed a familiar song to leave her lips. "Why is that man taking up my time, bringing me down 'cause he's beggin' for a dime..."1 Her voice floated quietly around the room, her eyes not focused on anything in particular, even as she felt Daryl's on her.
Getting lost in the song her mother had played so often before the apocalypse was so easy, though she didn't let her guard down. Even the singing wasn't enough to completely drown out the moans of the walkers outside the building, but it helped. "All these strangers are tellin' me somethin'..."1 Her voice came to a stop as she finished the song, a yawn following the last of the lyrics. Daryl mumbled something about the annoying singing, though she didn't comment on it. Whatever she said would be futile, so she settled for annoying him even more by laying down and resting her head in his lap. If he didn't like it, he could just shove her off-she wouldn't care. He didn't though, which came as a surprise to her. Instead he just told her to get some rest while he stayed up to watch the door in case the walkers shattered the glass. She was fine with that, and muttered out a silent goodnight before letting herself drift off to some much needed sleep.
1: Lyrics from Kara DioGuardi's song, Strangers & Angels.