I'm sitting in the hospital with my husband who is getting a transfusion because his chemo got cancelled today (long story) and one thing I know in my heart is: I have no business starting another story, but that's what I'm doing. Apologies to anyone waiting for updates on other stories, this one's been trying to bust out of my head and my shrink told me to start writing again so…here we go with a new one. I hope to write it in it's entirety this next week when I'm on a TROPICAL VACATION!
BTW – I've noticed that Caryl writers aren't posting. Ladies, let me tell you that I've finally caught up with all the episodes and (a) I've seen nothing that suggests that Daryl has romantic feelings towards Beth and (b) Melissa McBride has without a doubt established Carol as a major character on this show. She was tremendous in The Grove so CHEER UP! WRITE SOME ROMANCE LADIES BECAUSE I NEED SOMETHING TO READ! For God's sake, spring has sprung and with it should come lazy days of hormonal fanfiction reading!
And even if AMC pairs Daryl with Beth? Fuck 'em. Show them you are better writers than they are! My God, the few Meth writers out there (like me) have had to use our imaginations for a whole year and we're still writing!
Egress
"You ready Bethie?" asked Hershel with a concerned look in his eye. Beth met his eyes and he saw the tears that she refused to let fall. He knew she was raw and hurting. "Yeah Daddy," she said firmly, walking through the door of the prison for the last time. Hershel's brow furrowed and he looked at Maggie. "Is she going to leave it like this?" he asked. Maggie grimaced as pain for her sister crossed her face. "Her choice," Maggie replied as she passed him to follow Beth to the caravan that waited outside the gates. Hershel took a long look around the kitchen where his apocalypse family shared their meals, the common room where they gathered at night, and the cells where they laid their heads. He nodded goodbye to his and to the one shared by Maggie and Glen, then his eyes raised to the perch where Beth had moved in with Merle. He shook his head, sighed and looked at the floor for a moment, then turned to rejoin his daughters. Once they bid their final farewells, they'd be on their way to a new future.
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It had gone on for a week and Daryl had had enough. The Governor was breathing down their necks, two of their best fighters were gone and the best fighter they had left had his head up his ass. It was time for a reality check. He growled as he looked at Merle who was stabbing walkers through the fence with his prosthetic. Merle was goading them, running his mouth and egging them on. He had two weeks of scruff on his face and with the exception of being caught in a rainstorm the week before hadn't showered since the Greenes had left. He was perpetually hungover and the smell of stale cigarettes, vomit and sweat that permeated his clothes should have taken half the walkers out on its own. Daryl knew that as soon as Merle tired from the fun at the fence he'd be back in the garage sucking down the stash of moonshine they'd cached. Rick was watching Merle from the tower, his displeasure almost palpable in the stifling afternoon heat.
Daryl yelled for Merle who, lost in his own world, paid no heed. Finally Daryl stalked up to Merle, grabbed his blade arm and yelled in his face. "The FUCK Merle, you deaf now?" Merle swung tiredly at him with his good arm and Daryl easily deflected it, knocking Merle to the ground. "The fuck's the matter with ya?" Daryl asked. Merle shielded his eyes from the sun with his forearm and laughed derisively. "Just havin' a little fun brotha. Gettin' fresh air, a lil exercise, hangin with Friendly," he said, tipping his head to look back at Rick while flipping him off. Rick shook his head in disbelief and Merle laughed, "Friendly fucker." His laugh ended in a ragged coughing fit.
Daryl sneered down at Merle in disgust. "Ya even know what ya smell like Merle? When's the last time ya washed? Changed ya clothes? Ya plannin' on livin on moonshine and cigarettes?" Merle sat up on his bent elbows and smiled at Daryl. "That's a fine fuckin' idea son. Glad I thought of it. Speaking of…," he trailed to dig in his pocket for a crumpled pack of Marlboros. "Fuckin' hate menthols," he groused as he sat up and lit a wooden match on his boot heel. "Want one Ballerina?"
Daryl ignored the dig at the nickname Merle had christened him with long ago, pushing back the memories of "Darylina Ballerina" and all the improvised song lyrics that had arisen from it over the years. He pointed down at Merle's face. "Ya finally happy Merle?" he seethed. "Ya break everything ya touch, you know that? Always have. Aint never gave a shit 'bout nothin' but yaself. And anybody stupid enough ta get close to ya gets dragged down with ya. Even at the end of the world."
Merle's good humor instantly disappeared. He clenched the cigarette between his teeth and stood up to glare down into Daryl's eyes. Daryl's were sparking with anger but Merle's were empty and devoid of emotion. "Ya got somethin' ta say to me?" Merle rasped, his voice steeled barely above a whisper. His chest bumped Daryl's and Daryl knew that Merle's hair trigger temper had been pulled. "Yeah," said Daryl, sidling in anticipation of the blows that were sure to come. "Ya fucked up Merle and this time ya payin' for it. Beth was the best thing that ever happened to ya but this time when ya pissed on the good, YER the one that got broke. And now that ya gotta live with the hurt ya been dishin out ya whole fucked up life, ya fallin' apart," he spat. Merle's lip curled and minutes later they were both in the dirt.
When Daryl came in hours later with a bloody face Carol moved subtly to gather the first aid supplies and fix him up in their cell. She knew better than to berate him so she waited patiently for him to talk. When an equally bloody Merle stalked past their cell to get to his she moved to pick up the supplies but Daryl stopped her. "Simple-minded son of a bitch don't need nothin'," he said curtly and she sighed as she smoothed his sweaty hair from his forehead. Some days she'd rather face walkers than the angry brothers.
Daryl's face was buried in the back of her neck when Merle woke them at first light. Merle had shaved and was wearing clean clothes. "I'm goin' to find 'er," he said. Daryl blinked sleepily, glanced to make sure that Carol's chest was covered by the blanket, then asked, "If'n ya do, ya gonna go with 'er?" Merle studied him for a moment then nodded grimly. "If that's what she wants." Carol looked questioningly as Daryl sat up and ran his hand through his hair, then she looked at Merle who was standing with military straightness. "Then we've got some decisions to make," she said.
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Beth worked through the pain. She answered people when spoken to and tried to do her share of the driving and chores. She did her best to learn the names of the people in the caravan and to learn something about each of them. It seemed like they'd been traveling forever. Whenever she broke down she tried to hide it, tried to find a place to sob and hit trees. Maggie found her one evening and held her as she pulled at her hair and cried. "I hate what he did. I hate THIS Maggie! But I love him and miss him so much. I just want him. I'd do anything to see him. What have I done?" Maggie shushed her. "God shows us what's right Beth. The decision you made is what God wanted. He wants you to have a better life with someone else. When we get there you'll see honey. You'll see that there's someone better."
Beth took a deep breath and nodded. Maggie knew a lot more than she did about relationships and she had to trust her. She had to have faith in something to survive this pain. She could see that Hershel wanted to help her but she wasn't ready to talk about it to him yet. Maybe one day….one day she'd forget all about Merle Dixon.
We're going to see some self-reliance in Beth in this story and as for Merle, he's going to get what's been coming to him for a long time. This story WILL contain Caryl smut as well as Meth, so be patient Caryl'ers. AG