Title: Tail Gunner (1/?)
Disclaimer: Not mine, I'm not making any money, just having a bit of fun.
Rating: G
Summary: Beth's determined to prove herself not only to the whole prison, but also to herself. Quietly training herself with the help of Michonne, she impresses an unlikely onlooker. Bethyl.
Author's Note: Hey guys, I'm not sure if this is going to be a one-shot or not, but we'll see how it goes. Also, this isn't beta'd so any mistakes are my fault, and I sincerely apologize. Enjoy!
Beth Greene had never been a runner.
In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Is that what her high school gym teacher had said during track? She inhaled deeply once more, forcing an exhale from her mouth, nostrils flaring as she swiftly jumped over a fallen branch. Feet hitting flat ground, she chanced a glance over her shoulder and silently cursed before taking off again at a run.
They weren't getting any closer, but the noise she was stirring up caused more to join the small pack, there had to be at least three of them now.
Sprinting ahead, she tightened her grip on the hilt of her knife as a small shack came into view.
This could make or break her.
As quietly as she could, Beth slipped around the side of house hoping that she would be able to catch her breath, even if it was for a few seconds. She heaved in loud gasps of air, trying to restore even breathing. Her lungs burned, and once again she had wished she'd paid better attention to that gym teacher.
What a bunch of bull-crap, she thought. "In through the nose, out through the mouth my ass." She weezed. Beth peeked around the corner of the house once more catching sight of the walkers after her, brow furrowed. Luck was not on her side today.
Whipping around, she let out a squeak as she was met with the very familiar end of an arrow.
"What're ya doin' out here, kid?" He ground out, knuckles whitening around the grip of his crossbow. "Ya know better than ta go outside the gates." Daryl's eyes flicked up as the walkers drew closer, keeping a close watch on them.
Yes, today luck was definitely not on Beth's side.
Finally regaining control of her breathing, she met his eyes and fingered the blade of her knife, vaguely noting to herself that it needed sharpening. "Training." She replied, distracted.
The walkers were closing in, and she let out a huff before pushing herself off the wall. Business time. Three walkers - one without an arm. She could take them. She'd been in worse situations in the tombs.
"Trainin'? If ya wanted trainin' then ya shoulda took it up with Hershel. Git ya some proper trainin' 'stead of this tryin' ta git yerself killed business." Anger flared deep within her at his comment. She didn't need her Daddy's permission to learn how to stay alive. She didn't need anyone's permission for that matter.
"Cleaned out the tombs by myself and didn't get hurt." She shot back as she lunged forward at the closest walker, blade sinking into its brain first try. A satisfied smiled graced her normally delicate features as she saw Daryl's eyes narrow at the perfect kill.
Backing up, Beth readied to take on her second walker, but just as she pushed off her back foot, a bolt shot past her ear, hitting its intended target. The walker dropped with a resounding thud.
Teeth grinding, she slowly turned around, eyes flashing with an intense anger she hadn't felt in years. Who did he think he was? "I'm not weak, Daryl."
Aware that there was still one walker left, Beth's ears perked up at the twig cracking behind her, the groaning far too close for her liking. Swiftly she twisted around, lashing out with her blade, slashing it across the face, then coming back once more for the fatal kill.
"And, I'm not a kid." She huffed as the last walker hit the ground and stalked off, seething.
For the second time that day, Beth tried to regain control of her breathing, anger still rolling off her in waves.
But anger made her reckless. And recklessness would get her killed. She'd learned that lesson the hard way down in the tombs when she first started training herself. Anger had led her to foolishly go down there with only a knife, determined to prove to not only everyone else, but to herself that she wasn't a weak child anymore. That she was a woman who could defend both the community, herself, and more importantly, Judith.
She nearly died that first time down. Beth flinched at the memory, remembering how close the walker had come to ripping into her neck. Quick thinking and a sharp knife were the only two things that kept her alive that day. She didn't return to the tombs for another two months, too shook up to pluck up enough courage.
As expected, the prison library didn't have one book on the art of defense, war, attacking anything, or mere survival. But after mulling it over, she knew she couldn't glean the skills she was looking for in a book. She needed hands on experience.
With that in mind, Beth took it upon herself to snatch up a piece of rebar and head out to the fences where there were sure to be walkers piling up. It was Michonne who she had initially watched - always graceful with her kills and never expending too much energy. Beth marveled at the way it came so naturally to her.
Slowly but surely Beth began getting the hang of it, always looking over her shoulder at Michonne, copying her every move, never letting herself get too close to a walker. She remembered the burning in her arms, and Michonne quietly urged her to keep going, that she would need to pack on more muscle if she were to survive.
Beth couldn't rely on everyone else to protect her anymore. It wasn't fair to them, her, or even Judith. And with the addition of the people from Woodbury, there were far too few of them that were real fighters. She needed to learn, and Michonne hadn't questioned her at all, merely imparting all the wisdom she could in the little time they had together.
When Michonne left to go after The Governor once more, it left Beth without a trainer, and so, she practiced by herself, gaining knowledge only through trial and error and small tidbits from Michonne. She was grateful that there was a fence between her and the walkers, but she knew soon that she was going to have to face them head on – without a safety net.
Two months later, Beth found herself at the entrance of the prison tombs again, a freshly sharpened knife in hand; one more strapped her belt and a gun tucked away in her pants as a last resort. She didn't know how long she had been down there, but once she emerged from the first section she planned on securing, it was with an adrenaline high that took her far too long to come off of.
Her boot hitting a rock and lurching forward, Beth was brought back to the present, and anger flooded her veins once more. She knew better than to get too distracted out here. Distractions would get her killed as well. Michonne had made sure to drive that point home many times.
A snort came from behind her at her lack of gracefulness, and Beth whipped around unable to control herself. "What do ya want, Dixon?" She spat.
"For ya ta git back inside the gates." Came his sharp reply. "Ya shouldn't be out here." An argument was only going to come of this, and she wanted no part of that. She had too much respect for Daryl, and had already snapped at him one too many times today for her liking. But respect had nothing to do with the fact that she still felt as if she could be doing more. "And yer scarin' all the game away." He gestured to the few squirrels tied up in his hand.
Turning away, Beth slipped between the chain link fence and held it open for him. Tying it back up, she faced him. "I can handle myself. I think I've proven that." Quickly, she made her way back to the prison, intent on a shower and needing to take Judith off of Rick's hands.
"Beth," Her name had her stopping, but she didn't turn around waiting for Daryl to continue, "Didn't know ya had it in ya. Nice job today, kid." She winced at the backhanded comment, but only nodded and continued her trek back to her cell.
"I'm not a kid." She mumbled.