A/N:I started this as a one-shot, then it took on a life of its own and exploded into this massive, multi-chapter story. I hope you like it. It's my first time writing about TWD.
Future fic, AU. Takes place about four years after the events of "Still." Terminus does not factor into this story.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead. Not the TV series, not the comic book series, not even Daryl. I got nothing. I also do not own Tom Waits or any of his songs, although I do love him dearly.
"There was thunder, there was lightning, then the stars went out…"
Beth's melodic voice, sweet as it had been when she was sixteen, rang out through the house, echoing back slightly. They'd managed to scrape together enough furniture to call this abandoned cottage a home, but the carpet, bloodstained and threadbare, and the general lack of furnishings made it anything but cozy. If Beth closed her eyes and sang, it reminded her of moving into the farmhouse her father built all those years ago – she only a toddler and Maggie a bossy eight-year old.
"And the moon fell from the sky, it rained mackerel, it rained trout…"
Beth scrubbed the chipped plates and teacups they'd eaten breakfast out of. She let her hands grow still, immersed in the warm, soapy water. She thanked God for small favors. They had a camp stove and a decent supply of fuel for it, allowing them the luxury of washing their dishes – and themselves – in hot water.
"And the great day of wrath has come, and here's…"
Beth trailed off, pulling her hands out of the water and mechanically wiping them off on a nearby rag. She tried again.
"And…the great wrath – day of wrath has come, and here's…" Here's what? she thought. "Come on, you know this," she urged herself, bracing her hands on the edges of the basin.
"Know what?"
Beth turned her bright blue gaze to the man who had just entered, crossbow slung over his shoulder as always.
"I rustled up some mushrooms and some wild berries," he said, offering the pouch to her. "I almost had a squirrel, but the little bastard got away from me." He winced. Daryl's eyesight had begun to fail him in the past couple of years, not enough to cause any real concern for their safety – his other senses were as sharp as ever – but with no way of getting a hold of glasses, other than happening upon them during one of their raids (which were getting to be fewer and farther between as they built up their stores), he had trouble spotting the rustle of a squirrel's tail or a snake's winding trail through the brush. They were living off of a mainly vegetarian diet while Daryl taught Beth how to use his beloved crossbow. The garden was much more plentiful than the surrounding wildlife was, anyway. It reminded Beth of the pre-apocalypse days when she considered herself a vegetarian. With a pang, she remembered how her father used to try to accommodate her new diet by separating the meatballs from the spaghetti sauce on Spaghetti Tuesdays, always a family favorite. She cleared her throat.
"Thank you."
"So what do you know?" Daryl asked, flopping down in one of the ratty armchairs that served as their main sitting area. Beth tilted her head, giving him a questioning look. "When I came in, you were sayin', 'C'mon, you know this,' to yourself," Daryl clarified.
"Oh…I – I forgot some song lyrics, and I was just mad at myself…"
"What song? More Tom Waits?" The left side of his mouth curved up slightly.
Beth had to chuckle. "You know me well. Yeah, Tom Waits. 'The Earth Died Screaming.'"
"Sing a little for me."
"But I don't remember all the words."
Daryl shrugged. "Don't matter. Make 'em up. You've written some of your own songs, haven't you?"
The way he talked about her singing made her feel more confident about her abilities. She tended to overcomplicate things, while Daryl liked to simplify. It occasionally made for some bitter disagreements, but secretly, it was one of her favorite things about him.
"Yeah…okay." Beth cleared her throat again, deciding to start from the beginning. Maybe it would help to jog her memory. She patted her hands on her thighs to get the rhythm started. "Rudy's on the midway, and Jacob's in the hole. The monkey's on the ladder, the devil shovels coal with crows as big as airplanes. The lion has three heads, and someone will eat the skin that he sheds…"
"Keep goin'," Daryl encouraged, leaning forward.
"And the earth died screaming," Beth continued, her voice gaining strength and clarity as she got further into the song. "While I lay dreaming. The earth died screaming, while I lay dreaming of you." A smile quirked onto her face and she locked eyes with Daryl's deep blue gaze. "Well, hell doesn't want you, and heaven is full. Bring me some water, put it in this skull. I walk between the raindrops, wait in Bug House Square. And the army ants, they leave nothing but the bones. And the earth died screaming, while I lay dreaming. The earth died screaming, while I lay dreaming of you." Her voice grew quieter and began to falter as she approached the part of the song she'd lost track of. She stomped a foot angrily and turned away.
"What's the matter? Forget the words again?" He asked the question innocently, but it grated on Beth like an insult.
"Forget it," she muttered. Knowing that she liked to have time to think when she was frustrated, Daryl quietly moved to their adjacent bedroom to change his clothes. A few days ago, Beth had come across an unopened suitcase, left behind by someone fleeing Georgia on the nearby highway. It was a treasure trove, full of men's pants and shirts and even a shaving kit, which Beth elected to use on her legs and underarms. Another luxury. Another reminder of their life before.
The lyrics continued to loop themselves through Beth's brain, torturing her like an earworm, a phenomenon she remembered reading about in high school. Chunks were missing, and no matter how she tried to force herself to recall them, they just kept slipping farther away. If only Maggie was here, Beth thought wistfully. I bet she remembers. Her big sister was on the move, along with Glenn, both trying to clear the surrounding area of walkers every time a new herd made its way into the area. They had no name for their little community. A name would have doomed it. It reminded them too much of the disaster that had been Woodbury. Rick was understandably reluctant to let in newcomers, so there were only about a dozen of them all together.
A knock came at the door, startling Beth out of her thoughts. "Hey Beth, you mind lookin' after Judith for a while?" Rick asked softly, the scars on his face a stark reminder of days gone by and a malevolent presence that Beth cursed daily. "Carl and I are making a run."
"Daddy, I'm old enough to take care of m'self!" Judith declared, crossing her arms defiantly. "I keep tellin' you! Tell him, Beth!"
"Aw, your daddy just wants to make sure you're safe, that's all, Judith," Beth said soothingly, her natural affinity for children coming out once again. "Come on, we'll play some games and your dad and brother will be back before you know it." Judith reluctantly stepped forward, allowing Beth to ruffle her light brown hair.
"Thanks, Beth," Rick said, nodding at her. He started to turn, then paused. "And that was a real pretty song you were singing earlier." Beth smiled, but said nothing, and he left. Judith ran to the corner where they kept a couple of dolls and wooden toys they'd found in a nearby house. Touching her stomach briefly, Beth wondered if she'd ever be able to call a child her own. Judith was the only little one their community fostered, now that Lizzie was gone and Mika was too grown to be called a child. Maggie and Glenn were trying, but with no success yet, and sometimes Beth worried that the burden – though she wouldn't necessarily refer to it as such – of childbearing fell to her, the younger Greene sister. It was the safest place they'd come to rest since the prison, and though they weren't much better equipped for a birth than they had been when Lori had Judith, it felt like a better environment to raise a baby or two.
"Beth!" Judith whined. "C'mere and play with me!" Shaking her head, Beth went to sit with the girl, picking up another doll and making it have a pretend conversation with Judith's doll.
"Hey, little ass-kicker, what's goin' on?" Daryl said, fixing the last button on his shirt and smiling at Judith.
"Daryl," Beth hissed. "Rick doesn't want you to call her that!"
"Pfft," Daryl flapped a dismissive hand and ruffled Judith's hair in much the same way that Beth just had. "I turned out all right, didn't I? And I knew way worse words'n that at her age." Beth pressed her lips together tightly and said nothing. She didn't like being reminded of how different her and Daryl's pasts were. She'd never be able to forget how violent he'd gotten the night she had her very first drink, talking about the abuse and neglect he'd suffered. He didn't like to bring it up either, usually, saying that he hated seeing the pity in Beth's eyes. Trying to push the thoughts aside, Beth picked up a toy truck and silently handed it to Daryl.
