Hello everyone! This is my first attempt at a Bethyl, or really writing anything that heavily involves Beth's POV so I'm really hoping I do her justice. So reviews would be more than appreciated, either positive or constructive which ever appears to be necessary. These chapters are going to be kind of on the long side I think, which will also mean a bit of time between updates. I'll try to keep at least weekly, but it may end up being more or less, depending on how much free time I've got haha. I'm going for a slightly police procedural vibe, so except for big overarching arcs each chapter will be one case. Unless I do something special with an episode and it doesn't have a case.
Warnings for descriptions of violence, drug use, cursing, descriptions of dead bodies, and later on some sexual situations.
I really hope you guys like this, and I can't wait to hear back from you guys! Thanks so much for checking out this story!
Episode 1 - Pilot
Family first, that's what her Daddy had always said. Family first. She looked to her Daddy now, throat tightening when it seemed like he was holding back tears too. Maggie's hand tightened around hers, and Beth tried her hardest not to tremble as the reverend's solemn voice rang over the graves.
Other than prayers and the wind it was such a quiet day, sunny. Glenn would've liked it. Her lips twisted into a sad sort of smile, and the tears started to burn. She was going to miss him a lot.
Ever so slowly, the casket started to sink into the ground. A strangled noise came out of Maggie's throat, and Beth couldn't help it anymore. The burning eased as tears spilled over, lip trembling as she desperately tried to hold back a sob. The casket was almost gone under the edge of the grave, his headstone in view.
Glenn Rhee
Loving Husband. Dutiful Officer. A Brave Man.
April 25, 1985 - April 2, 2014
"So, how's Atlanta?" Amy asked, dragging out each syllable. Somewhere in the background there was a crash like she was searching through the pots and pans.
"I dunno," Beth kicked her legs back, eyeing the pale blue polish on her toenails. No one was going to actually see her toenails today, but she still thought they looked cute, "Sunny? Hotter than I remembered." Actually it was a lot hotter. She'd only come back home to Georgia for Christmas time the past couple of years, and after seven in New York...well to say the least Maggie had spent the last couple of weeks yelling at her to stop cranking the AC up so high.
"Getting back to your country roots?" Amy laughed. Her best friend, Boston born and raised, had always found Beth's southern accent to be cute. Cute in the way that you called the short friend cute, 'cause it's funny to watch the murder in their eyes. Beth didn't exactly reach murderous intentions, but the sentiment was the same. Amy had been teasing her about it since their freshman year.
"Yeah," Beth humored her, exaggerating her southern lilt into a full on twang,"Was gonna go wrassle some hogs 'afore work."
"Oh yeah!" Amy exclaimed, and Beth held her iPhone a bit farther from her ear, "First day of work! I almost forgot! How's that going?"
"I don't know." Beth said, rolling over, "Haven't been there yet."
"You met your partner?"
"Nope." Beth still felt mildly annoyed about that, "I have his phone number - texted him when I got down here, invited him to coffee-"
"No response?" Amy interrupted her.
"Nope." She popped her p's, and sat up quickly.
"What was his name again?" Amy asked, Beth could practically feel the giggles on her best friend's lips.
Beth took a breath, "Detective Daryl Dixon." The giggles bubbled up through the phone. Amy had nearly had a fit the first time Beth had told her, something about Daryl Dixon being the 'most redneck-ass name she'd ever done heard of'. It took Amy a moment to calm back down again. "So?" Beth started, "You seen Zach since I left, or is he just moping in his room?"
"The boy toy has so far kept it in his pants, as far as I know, if that's what you're worried about."
Beth rolled her eyes, smiling, "No! Does he miss me?" She'd met Zach while in college, he was getting his MBA, she was in her junior year as a criminal justice major. Things were nice between them, or at least they had been until two months ago. They were trying though, she loved Zach, she wanted to make it work...regardless of the situation.
"Yes, Beth, of course," Amy said, "I caught him in the tub sniffing your shampoo." Beth started laughing as Amy went on to describe how much of a mopey puppy Zach had been since she'd left for Atlanta. He wasn't exactly happy with the situation, but he'd always been a doting boyfriend, and apparently that didn't change once her side of the bed was empty.
She didn't know when she'd get back to New York, if she'd ever get back to New York. There was so much going on...and it was the Greene's motto, 'Family First'. Maggie's last name might be Rhee now, but she was still a Greene; and if she needed her sister, she needed her sister. Beth wasn't going anywhere.
She sighed, listening to Amy go on about New York, and her own job as a dentist. She had a small practice on the Upper West Side, and more often than not had a few regaling tales of incredibly difficult children. Apparently one of them had tried to bite her the other day. With a sigh she smiled nostalgically, it had only been a couple weeks and she was already homesick.
Her eyes flitted up to the clock. Shoot.
"Amy! I'm so sorry," she jumped up, trying to shed her pajama shorts with one hand as she ran for the bathroom, "I'm going to be late! I'll talk to you-"
"Hey!" A different voice came out of her iPhone, "Hey, Detective Greene, where do you think you're running to?"
"Work, Zach." She laughed, pulling off her underpants before reaching to turn on the shower. He must have woken up early, really early. The two of them and Amy shared an apartment, and out of the three Zach slept the latest on his days off. She had to be at work at six AM, it was nothing short of a miracle he'd gotten up.
"You gonna catch those criminals for me?" He asked, "I don't want to gunned down when I come to visit you."
"Like you won't get gunned down in New York." She rolled her eyes.
"Well, now that my sexy police officer isn't roaming the streets I might."
"Do your best not to get shot Zach," she laughed, "Now I really need to go!" She started to pull the phone back from her ear.
"Hey! Hey Detective Greene!" He said.
"What, Zach?" The water was almost hot enough now.
"I love you," he said, and she smiled.
"I love you too." With that she hung up on him, tossed her phone on the counter, and jumped into the shower. She couldn't afford to be late.
It was five fifteen. If she broke a few speeding laws she'd be able to make it all the way from Maggie's home in Atlanta's suburbs, and be there with a few minutes to find parking. She downed a glass of orange juice and grimaced, she'd forgotten she'd just brushed her teeth. Suddenly not wanting to taste anything else she grabbed her keys, and went to try and find her shoes again.
She'd bought them back in New York, cute black flats that went well with the skirt suits she'd bought for the job. She almost missed the shapeless black NYPD uniform she'd worn the past few years on the force, at least she didn't have to worry about looking presentable. The uniform just always kind of, presented itself. Now she was a homicide detective, and she had to look fancy and professional.
Where were her shoes?
"Maggie!" She yelled, dashing out of the mudroom and into the kitchen, "Maggie! Have you seen my shoes?" Had she left them in the living room? Frantically pushing furniture around she waited to hear her big sister's footsteps on the stairs, she needed to be up in a minute anyways, today was Maggie's first day back to work too. Beth frowned, eyes settling on a framed photo on the wall. Glenn and Maggie were holding eachother, smiling, Glenn was pointing proudly to the badge on his chest.
Beth had had a bit of hero worship going on when Maggie first got engaged, Glenn was kind of like a big brother, but better. He was fun and cool, and he was everything Shawn was without the annoying over protective streak. Glenn was the reason she'd decided to join the force in the first place, it was that or singing, and singing wasn't exactly a guaranteed career.
"Maggie!" She yelled again, as her older sister appeared on the landing.
"You had them in your room," she said. She looked tired, with heavy bags under her eyes, and frown lines that Beth was pretty sure hadn't been there last Christmas.
"Already checked."
"Mudroom?" Maggie tried again, heading down into the kitchen. Her hands absentmindedly searching for the coffee maker.
"Nope." She really needed to get going, "Never mind, I'll just...grab something else." Five minutes later she was back with a pair of kitten heels, which weren't exactly perfect, but they were technically in dress code. Maybe she'd get lucky and not have to chase anyone today.
Running for the door she double checked that her keys were in her purse, "Love you!" She kissed Maggie's cheek.
"Wait!" Maggie stopped her, and Beth's chest clenched at the look in her eyes, "Promise you'll ask?"
"Maggie…" Beth started, "You know if they knew anything…"
"Please." Maggie's voice was starting to sound dangerously close to pleading. Lord knew Maggie had never begged her little sister for anything.
"I'll ask." Beth wasn't sure if she should, or that it would even do anything. Glenn was family, she probably wouldn't be allowed to work his case. Still...Maggie had been getting restless, there hadn't been any news in weeks. Three months since Maggie had found him hanging in the garage, and they didn't know a thing other than he hadn't done it himself.
"Thank you." Maggie kissed her cheek, and Beth ran out the door.
It was five fifty five when she finally tore through downtown Atlanta, and into APD's parking deck. Technically she knew it was illegal to be speeding, she was a cop after all, but it was only ten miles over, and quite frankly she was about to go solve murders. There had to be some leeway there.
It was going to be hot today, again, in the mid nineties, again (could it really only be early June?). The fact that her dinky old Camry's AC had given out years ago didn't help either. So she kept the windows down, even at six in the morning it was still warm - her hair looked like a mess, but it was better than her walking into work covered in sweat stains.
She just had to park, walk across the street, and find her department...in five minutes.
She nodded to herself impatiently, racing up the ramps, this was great. It was really just her luck that she'd gotten a spot on the seventh floor. Fifth, sixth, how many people worked here again? It felt like forever till she saw the big gray seven painted on the concrete walls. Alright, seven sixty, seven sixty one, two, three, seven sixty four. The only open spot left on the whole floor, she frowned, it was really narrow. A faded blue pickup was parked backwards on one side, a van that was really pushing the line on the other. She was going to have to try real hard to avoid that van.
She swung wide, and then sharply turned right, pressing the gas. Her bumper was only a few feet from the truck's when a horn blared and she yelped, slamming on brake. Eyes wide she met a very intimidating glare from the truck's driver. It was hard to make out his face in the dingy parking deck lighting, but he had shaggy brown hair, and a sharp jawline with a bit of scruff. He was wearing a leather too.
"Hey!" He snapped, leaning out the window, "Watch where the fuck you're goin'!"
"Sorry!" She called, waving awkwardly and his expression didn't change...good. You go, Beth. Makin' friends. He didn't acknowledge her apology, just scowled and looked down at the radio. Quickly she backed up and pulled in a little bit straighter. Part of her really hoped truck guy would leave so she wouldn't have to pass him, but she only had four minutes to get there now.
Keeping her eyes low she took her bag, and walked between her car and the truck. Just don't look up, Beth. Just don't look up.
She couldn't have gotten farther than five feet past the truck when she heard its door open and close. She pushed her shoulders back, doing her best to just keep her eyes on the wall in front of her. The guy had a long stride from the sound of his footsteps, and he was closing in quickly.
"That your spot?" The thick southern twang came from a few steps behind her as the smell of cigarette smoke hit her nose.
She paused for a moment, "Yes?"
"Then you better learn to fuckin' park, blondie," he growled as he overtook her, stalking away. She decided to slow down a bit, let him get farther ahead.
What a promising start to her day.
"Detective Greene?" The man asked, extending a hand. She took it, he had a firm handshake and kind eyes.
"Yes, sir."
"I'm Sergeant Rick Grimes, your supervisor," he said, nodding for her to follow, "We spoke on the phone."
"Yes, sir." He seemed nice, but seeing as she'd walked in late she felt like 'yes, sir' was a good line to stick to.
"Sergeant Lyman, back at the NYPD, he called too. Gave you a damn good recommendation." Her boss back in New York had always been fond of her, he said it was something about her glowing personality. She was pretty sure it was because Amy bought her donuts her first day on the job, and Beth had been willing to share. "You were a detective up there for…" he prompted.
"A year," she said, "I worked property cases mostly...robberies and stuff." She had never really expected to end up working Homicide, but she'd needed a job and Lyman had said she'd be good for it, so she took what she could get. She had a feeling she was going to be in Atlanta for a while...Family First.
"You ever been on a murder scene?"
"Only once when the body was still there" she said, as he showed her into what appeared to be a little break room. It was nothing fancy, gray carpet, gray walls, disturbingly gray looking coffee, "I was closest to a mugging gone wrong, back when I was a street officer."
"How'd you take it?"
"Fine. Don't get to be upset in situations like that." She said. It was mostly the truth, she'd gone home and cried in the shower. While she was working she was working though, and she just had to deal with it. She'd be fine now, she was pretty sure, it had just been a shock that first time. The guys brains had ended up all over the alley wall.
Rick nodded, apparently approving of her response, "You met Dixon yet?"
"No, sir. I haven't." Beth responded, though she really wished she had. She didn't know anyone yet...not even the man she was supposed to be working with.
"He's a good cop, knows what he's doing. You're in good hands with him...just, don't let him scare ya off." Beth was about to ask what that was supposed to mean, but Rick kept on going, "Well ladies locker room is back through that door if you want to keep your stuff in there. Could start bringing clothes to change into later if you wanted. Briefing room is to the right, second door on the left - can't miss it, big glass windows - be there in fifteen. We'll get you your gun and badge after."
"Thank you, sir," she said as he walked out the door, and she turned towards the locker room. Time to start working.
She pushed the door open quietly, though it turned out it didn't matter how quiet she was - the room was barely bigger than a closet, and everyone had a good view of the door. Not that everyone was a lot either. Two pairs of dark brown of eyes were watching her, two pairs of dark brown eyes attached to two startlingly beautiful women. One was black, with thick, long dreads pulled back into a ponytail. The other looked Latina, with full lips and a tight black bun.
"Hi," she smiled shyly, "I'm Beth."
"Ohh," the black woman, smiled, realizing who she was, "You're the new girl huh? Greene?" Beth nodded, "I'm Michonne Everett, and this my partner Rosita Espinoza."
"Nice to meet you," Rosita said, offering her hand. Beth shook hers then Michonne's, "So you're Dixon's new partner, huh?"
Michonne's eyebrows shot up as she let out a short, barkish laugh, "Oh, sweetie, good luck." Beth had a sudden sinking feeling that he hadn't just blown off coffee cause he was busy.
"Is he…?"
"An ass?" Rosita supplied the proper adjective, "Yes." Beth bit her lip as she set her things in the locker someone had kindly labeled with her name.
"He can't be that bad can he?" She asked, closing the door. Rosita and Michonne just looked at each other, and Beth nodded, "Good," She muttered, just a touch of sarcasm leaking into her voice.
"Don't get us wrong," Rosita said, checking her mascara in a little pocket mirror, "He's one of the best detectives we got, he's just…"
"Difficult," Michonne finished. Beth must've looked mildly frightened, 'cause the older woman was quick to reassure her, "Don't worry, he'll probably warm up to you eventually, he's just a grump." Rosita laughed. Difficult...she could do difficult. Her brother was ten different types of overbearing and annoying. Hell Maggie wasn't exactly a walk in the park all the time either...she'd been a bit more subdued recently.
"So, he's less of an ass if you just wait a while?" Beth asked hopefully. She was going to be stuck with this guy for god knows how long, she'd like them to at least be on speaking terms.
"I guess. He and Carol were like this," she said with a soft smile, holding up a cross index and middle finger, "Don't think she would've willingly spent off time with him if he didn't have a bit of sunshine under the redneck attitude."
"Why's Carol not working with him then?" She asked, maybe Daryl would just be a temporary thing. They'd get her a different partner later on. The atmosphere got heavy real fast, and she guessed that she'd be stuck with Dixon afterall. Michonne had a thin frown across her lips as she shut her locker.
"We lost her a few months back," Rosita said, slipping the mirror back into her bag, "Dixon took it pretty hard."
"On duty?" Beth asked, brow furrowing. She had friends back in the NYPD who'd lost their partners while working, they'd been out of it for months afterwards...it was rough. Michonne shook her head, Carol had died another way, but apparently Beth wasn't getting much more of an answer than that.
"C'mon," Rosita said, opening the door, "We've got five minutes, we can grab some coffee before Grimes starts talking."
The three of them stepped out into the breakroom, and Beth nervously eyed the coffee machine. Michonne must of noticed her watching as Rosita poured out a weirdly gristly looking cup of coffee, "Don't worry, it's not as bad as it looks."
"Really?" Beth raised an eyebrow.
"Nah. Coffee sucks ass." Michonne laughed, taking the pot and pouring a cup for herself. Caffeine was caffeine apparently, potentially toxic or not.
"I think I'll go ahead and pass," Beth said, "Meet you guys there?" She asked as she walked for the door.
"Yeah," Rosita nodded, "See ya there Beth."
The briefing room was about as simple as the break room. Thin gray carpet, and pale, blue-gray walls. There were desks set in rows on either side of a projector pointed towards a whiteboard. Honestly she kind of felt like she was in highschool all over again. So far all the seats were empty, there were papers set on the desks, but none of the other detectives had shown up yet. It was almost six thirty, they should be coming in soon.
Right now, she was just standing there awkwardly, trying to figure out where she should sit. Each of the desks had two chairs, and she had absolutely no idea if seats were assigned or not. Though she assumed she'd be sitting with her partner, she had no idea where he normally sat - and honestly was a little nervous to ask based on everyone's less than stellar reviews of Detective Daryl Dixon - at least personality wise - not that she knew what he looked like anyways.
At least she didn't have an audience while she stood there looking like an idiot. With a resigned sigh she started wandering up and down the rows, looking for any sign of where she was supposed to be. She knew they were adults and all, but name cards sounded really useful right about now.
Maybe she should have waited while Michonne and Rosita finished their coffee, they could have told her. She'd almost given up and gone to stand in the corner of shame, or slink back to the break room, when something caught her eye. A manilla folder sat on one of the desks towards the back, Daryl Dixon, was scrawled out in blue pen.
She decided she might as well sit down and wait. Not like she knew what else to do.
Slowly people started to file in. Some came alone, heading straight to their seats. Others stood about chatting with their partners, or with the other detectives. Beth just kept her head down, and started poking through her bag for pens and a notepad. She figured she'd probably need to write something down.
Seats were filling, and no one had come to take the one next to hers. Michonne and Rosita walked in with a Latino guy of average build and a kind of burly black guy. They sat down next to each other, so she was pretty sure they must be partners. She hadn't caught the Latino guy's name, but Michonne had called the black guy Tyreese.
Rosita smiled at her from her and Michonne's desk. Beth smiled back, not sure if she should get up and go talk to them or not.
Rick came in, and still, no Dixon. She glanced anxiously at the door, she really didn't want to be the new girl sitting alone - whether her partner was an ass or not, she'd feel better just having someone beside her. Except then the door closed with a final thud, and she looked up to see the last man standing: Her partner. She could feel her ears turning pink as she met his brilliant blue eyes. It wasn't the eyes that were making her blush though; it was the messy brown hair, and the scruff along a well defined jawline.
He'd traded out his leather jacket for a suit, but it was him. She was forcing down the incredible urge to put her head in her hands as he looked at her, and realized who she was too. A look of vague annoyance settled onto his sharp features.
She set her gaze very firmly on the front of the room as the chair beside her was pulled out, and Daryl sat down. This was great, this was really, really great. She didn't have to look at him, she could just feel him next to her. There was four or five inches between them, but she could still feel him sitting there, smelling like cut cedar.
This was going to be a long day, wasn't it?
The meeting had been long and confusing. They spent a couple hours going over evidence from cases she didn't know about, while Rick asked questions she didn't know how to answer. She had taken more than a few forensic science classes, and she knew a lot of what they were talking about...it was just a lot to process at once.
Dixon didn't prove to be all that helpful either. At least not to her. He'd answer Rick's questions in his surprisingly gruff voice, and once or twice made a mildly scathing remark towards one of the other detectives. Michonne had been right, Daryl Dixon was a damn good at his job. Right now she kind of felt like she'd been thrown head first into a whirlpool, but she could tell he knew what he was talking about. Everyone else could too.
Michonne had been right about the other part too, he was kind of a jerk. Not necessarily mean, just a jerk.
She'd tried to talk to him once the meeting was over. He'd reluctantly accepted a handshake, muttered his name, and then said something about doing paper work and 'finding her if he needed her', and disappeared. Rick had given her her gun and her badge, and led her to a small office with a view of the street below.
She'd never had her own office before. It was nice.
Nice and clean, right until Dixon had sauntered in, and tossed a box full of case files on her desk and told her to 'start readin'. So that's what she did. Apparently he and Carol had been working a lot of cases, at least twenty, some as recent as a few months ago, others as old as years. They didn't seem to be organized in any particular order, just thrown in a pile. There were no new cases, nothing earlier than April. She kind of wondered if Daryl had done anything new on since Carol died, maybe he'd taken some time off or something?
Wasn't her place to ask.
She took out her laptop and started to try and make sense of the first file, a hit and run. DVDs of the CCTV from that night were uploaded, and her personal notes made as she read over everything. She'd take these home tonight, start running typed up reports and handwritten notes through the scanner, get them on her laptop too. She quickly figured out how to distinguish Carol's handwriting from Daryl's. Hers was neat and looping, whereas his was and angular, scrawling mess.
It was nearly an hour later when she finally closed that first file, her head already hurt. She'd been a detective before, she knew how to sort through evidence, there was just a lot. She'd watched the CCTV tapes at least four times each, desperately trying to figure out how to make out the license plate of the SUV. Whoever had done the job had taken the light off their tags. It looked like Daryl had found a few leads, just nothing definitive.
"Greene." The door opened, apparently Dixon didn't think it was all that necessary to knock. He didn't wait for her to respond, just leaned in the threshold, and said, "We've got a call." With that he ducked back down the hall, and left her scrambling to pull her things together.
"Dixon, wait!" She yelled, desperately wishing she'd found her flats and didn't have to be running in heels. He didn't turn around, but he stopped, broad shoulders stiff as he waited at the end of the hall.
He didn't look at her once she'd caught up, just kept walking, "C'mon, we're taking my truck."
"Where?" She asked, and he glanced down at her as he punched the down button on the elevator. "Where's the case? What's the case?" Daryl didn't exactly seem to be a man of many words. She suddenly found herself missing her old partner, she and Oscar could talk for ages about pretty much anything. All she could see in her future with Daryl was a lot of awkward silences. No, she mentally scolded herself, Rick seems to like him just fine...so what if he's kind of surly. I'll just...give him a chance.
"Domestic disturbance," He said as they stepped into the elevator, "out in Kirkwood about an hour ago. Time the cops got there husband was gone. Wife and one of the kids are dead." He said it so analytically, cold and concise. Beth did her best to conceal a frown, something in her gut was twisting at the thought of seeing a kid's body. She shook her head, she didn't get to be upset, Daryl certainly wasn't - and she needed all the credit she could get with this guy.
"Are the other kids-"
"One of 'em's at school. The other's only a few months old, won't remember it." He assured her. Seeing something like that when you're just a kid...she took a deep breath. See that though? She told herself, That almost could have been him trying to comfort you. Almost...
The pair stepped out of the elevator. It was a lot brighter downstairs and she had to squint a bit as the sunlight poured through the windows. She glanced up at Daryl, though she didn't know what she was expecting to see. His face just had that impassive scowl. At least she didn't get the feeling that he particularly disliked her. He definitely didn't like her, but he seemed to treat everyone like this. Didn't make it any more pleasant, but at least she knew she wasn't special.
He didn't bother with walking up to the crosswalk, just jumped out into the street. She glanced each way, he was cutting it close, but she wasn't just going to walk half a block when he was liable to chew her out for it. She'd seen two sides of Daryl Dixon so far, 'I don't give a shit', and 'I give just enough of a shit to be pissed about it'. With a deep breath she darted out after him, heels tapping on the asphalt as she ran after her partner.
"Ya sound like a damn horse," he grumbled as they stepped up onto the sidewalk on the other side.
"Yeah, well it was these or go barefoot," she quipped back. She was trying very hard to give Dixon the benefit of a doubt, but she was starting to realize the full meaning of the word difficult. Michonne had been spot on there too. She did her best to walk slightly ahead of him, but she was slower in heels.
"How long you been workin'?" He asked, pulling a set of keys from his pocket as they waited for the up elevator.
"A year as a detective in the NYPD." She decided to leave out that she hadn't worked homicide before, but she figured he'd probably known that already...if he didn't he'd figure it out, "Four as a street officer before that."
"How old are you?" His brow furrowed as he looked at her.
"Twenty six, why?" The elevator opened.
"Ya look like a kid," he said as the door closed, and they started to go up.
"Well, I'm not." She kind of liked him better when he was tall, dark, and silent.
"You work homicide 'afore?" He asked. Four more floors to go.
Well he'd know now, "Nope."
His lips twisted into a mildly exasperated looking scowl. "Just don't fuck up then, alright?"
Beth nodded, lips tight. She really hated the anxious butterflies fluttering their way up from her stomach to her chest. Lyman had said she'd be good at this job, found it for her, got it for her. Still...she shook her head. Don't fuck up, Greene.
Blue and red lights were still spinning when Daryl ducked under the police tape, flashing his badge to the cop monitoring the perimeter. She followed behind, lifting up the tape herself, as she fumbled for her own badge.
"Detective Beth Greene," she said, flipping it open for the cop.
"Don't really care, sweetheart." He said, nodding her along. She blinked, a bit taken aback.
"Dixon!" Beth glanced up, Daryl was already walking away. A uniformed officer was waving him over. Giving the cop at the tape one last awkward glance she rushed after her partner. "Who's this?" The officer asked, looking to Daryl. She was pretty - though she looked kind of tired - dark hair pulled into a tight, low bun. Her mouth was stern, and her eyes narrowed.
"Detective Beth Greene," he said quickly, and his mouth twitched into a bit of a frown, just for a moment, "New partner."
The officer looked her over once, "Dawn Lerner," she introduced herself. Then turned nodding for them to follow into his house. "They're in the kitchen. Pretty nasty…" She said as they turned the corner from the hall. The living room of the little one story was separated from the kitchen by a breakfast bar. The place was pretty messy - dirty clothes and balled up snack wrappers. Food caked dishes were still stacked in the sink, a cup of watery coffee on the counter.
Her stomach twisted when she saw the bodies though. Blood was spattered across the floor, the cabinets under the sink, "They were shot from above," Beth commented, voice strained as she tried to keep this mornings orange juice down. Daryl glanced at her, and she really hoped she didn't look as pale as she felt.
The woman's body was slumped over, head pressed to a little boy's chest at an odd angle. Her eyes were still open, a neat little hole just off center, a bit of congealing blood trickling into her left eyebrow and down towards her nose. The kid was young, a little boy no older than four or five.
"Kid was shot first," Daryl said, eyes cold as he looked at the bodies, "Mom must've dropped to her knees, was tryin' to get to the kid when she was killed." Somewhere behind them a baby cried and Beth glanced back, an officer held a child in a stained yellow onesie, looked like it was just starting to get the first wisps of hair.
"Knew them." Dawn crossed her arms, "The whole family...her name was Layla, Layla Martin. Her son," she nodded to the boy, "Charlie. The older sister's name is Lilly."
"The baby?" Beth asked.
"Don't know...haven't been here for almost a year now. Frank must've cleaned himself up while Layla was pregnant." She frowned, looking away from the mother and son, "Used to be called out here all the time, Frank got mean when he was high...he was in and out of state all the time."
Beth glanced back at the woman, Layla, a pretty fresh looking bruise marred her jaw. A bit of blood was smeared from her mouth.
"You got any idea where he went?" Daryl asked, as another cop slid past them into the kitchen, and started laying down yellow evidence markers.
Dawn shook her head, "The car's still in the drive, but there was a call came in for a stolen SUV three streets over. Blue nineteen ninety six Ford Windstar."
"Think he took it?" Daryl asked, crouching to get a better look at the bodies. "Gloves?" He glanced over at the cop with the markers.
"It's possible." Dawn nodded, as Daryl snapped on the white rubber over his hands, "We've got the plates, already sent out the word. He passes an officer he'll get caught."
She couldn't see what Dixon was doing, he had his back to her, suit jacket stretched tight over his shoulders as he reached around Layla Martin. "The gun still here?"
"Lot's of guns still here. Could've been any of them, Stookey's on his way...they'll run ballistics when they're back at the morgue." Daryl straightened again, turning as he stripped off red stained gloves, "For now we're labeling him armed and dangerous," Dawn continued, "We've been searching the back rooms, a lot of unregistered weapons, don't know what he has on him."
"Kid was holdin' a vial of somethin'...think it's coke, ain't sure."
"Bello," Dawn nodded to the other officer in the room, "bag it." God she felt useless, she'd hardly said more than a few words...her eyes just kept flitting over Charlie Martin's open blue eyes.
"You think the kid might've tried to take it from him?" Beth asked, and Daryl and Dawn looked at her for the first time in a while, "I mean...do you think that's what made Frank snap?"
"Hell, coulda just been playin' with it." Daryl frowned as Bello plucked the vial from the little boy's hand, and zipped it in a plastic bag. Beth grimaced, the bodies had jiggled a bit. "Mind don't work right on this shit." He said it like he knew from experience, frown lines pulling a bit deeper. He didn't seem like the hard drugs type...though she guessed he'd probably seen enough of the stuff. Lord knew she'd handled more than a few druggies up in New York. "Y'already talk to the neighbors?" He asked.
Dawn nodded, "They called in once they heard things breaking. Don't know where he could've gone though."
"Would they know his friends?" Beth asked, "Names. People we could try an' get in contact with?" Daryl's eyes met hers, and he gave her the slightest nod. A weird, warm sensation spread through her chest, mixing oddly with the cold nausea that was rising in her throat. Good to know Lyman hadn't been totally wrong in recommending her for this.
"I'll get someone on it," Dawn said.
"The kid," Daryl started, "The older sister, where she go to school?"
"Coan Middle, she's a sixth grader." Dawn sighed heavily, mouth tightening.
"Greene," he nodded to her, heading out of the kitchen. She followed as he called back to Dawn, "Send those names to me as soon as you got'em!" The pair walked back through the living room and out into the yard. The ambulances had gotten there, a few EMTs unloading gurneys and a bodybags. An officer was out on a rather abused looking porch chair, cradling the baby in his arms.
"Social Services gonna come for the other kids?" She asked, and he nodded, hands going to his pockets as she started down the steps. He followed behind, picking their way across the small, unkempt yard.
"Where're we -" she was cut off as they reached the edge of the crime scene.
"Sweetheart." The cop at the tape's lips spread in a smarmy grin, she wasn't sure what caused his attitude change, but the look he was giving her made her feel like he might've taken a second look while she had walked up to the house, "You feelin' okay, look kinda pale." His hand started to move towards her face.
"Fuck off, Gorman," Daryl growled, putting a hand on Beth's shoulder and shoved her under the tape as he lifted it. "Stay away from him," he said as they approached his truck, "guy's a creep."
"I noticed," Beth muttered, opening the passengers side door. "So where're we goin'?"
The Ford roared to life, "Coan Middle School."
Beth had never done this before, though she was sure Daryl had. He'd been working this job for years...it was hard to tell anything under that stony face of his, she wondered if he was used to it yet. She wondered if she would ever get used to it. That cold, nauseous feeling was creeping up on her again as they walked through the doors of Coan Middle.
The whole place was linoleum and dingy, used-to-be-white cinder blocks. Kid's art covered the walls, and a trophy case stood off to the right. She pushed back a frown when she saw the secretary, busy with something at the front desk.
She'd asked Daryl why they had to do this, why Social Services wasn't. He'd looked at her like she was stupid or something. Wasn't like she was going to back out, she wasn't looking forwards to it, but she wasn't going to back out. She'd just been curious. Either way, she'd lost the brownie points she'd gotten with him for suggesting they ask the neighbors for Frank's friends.
She'd gotten her answer though, "Our case, our job." They were the ones who'd be working with the family, they were the ones who'd tell the family...even if the family was an eleven year old girl and her two months old baby sibling.
The secretary, a plump black woman with a very pretty face, smiled when she saw them. Daryl didn't smile back, so Beth smiled for the both of them. Or at least tried to, her lips weren't really feeling it today.
"How can I help you today?" She asked, looking a bit off put at Daryl's sour expression.
"Daryl Dixon," he said, holding up his badge, "This is Beth Greene," he nodded back towards her, "We're detectives with APD. Need ta speak with a girl named Lilly Martin, should be in the sixth grade."
The secretary's smile faded as she picked up the phone, and her voice blared out over the intercom, "Lilly Martin to the front office. Lilly Martin to the front office." The phone clacked as it was put back to the receiver, "She'll be with you shortly...is there anything we should be notified of." Daryl nodded, "Principal's office is down the hall, last door on the right. I'll send her in there."
Daryl started off, and Beth followed. Apparently he could knock on doors, he just didn't seem to think it was necessary for her office.
"What can I do for ya today?" The principal, a rather portly white guy with red cheeks, asked.
"Detective Daryl Dixon," he flipped his badge again, "This is Detective Beth Greene, we're with the Homicide Division of Atlanta PD."
The principal's brow furrowed, "Please, take a seat."
"This morning," Daryl started, easing into one of the plastic chairs in front of the principal's desk, "One your students, Lilly Martin-"
"I know her. Is everything alright?"
"Her mother and little brother were shot this morning, sir." Beth spoke up.
"Oh Jesus," the principal, his name plaque said Jonathan Brown, breathed out heavily. "Do you know -"
"Her father, Frank Martin, is our prime suspect right now-" Daryl was cut off by a little knock on the door. Mr. Brown called for them to come in, and a little girl with mousy brown hair entered. Lilly Martin.
"Am I in trouble?" She asked, right off the bat, "Cause I swear I didn't do nuthin." She looked like she she was ready to protest further, but soothed her.
"Don't worry, Lilly. You're not in trouble. We just...we have some people here who need to talk to you." The little girl eyed them suspiciously, "This is Detective Dixon and Detective Green, they're with the police."
Beth glanced over at Daryl. She had no idea how to start this. She had no idea if Daryl could start this either, he wasn't exactly mister compassion as far as she could tell. She'd been guessing that Carol must have handled most of these things. She hadn't heard a lot about the woman, but people seemed to like her, and she'd been enough of a saint to put up with Daryl Dixon for lord knew how many years.
Suddenly, he stood up, "Here kid," he spoke gruffly, though not unkindly, nodding towards his vacant chair, "Why don't ya take a seat."
Lilly shook her head, "I'm okay...this is about my Daddy isn't it?" She asked it as if it were something that happened all the time.
Beth held her breath, trying to keep the emotion off her face as Daryl responded, "Lilly…" Daryl crouched down to her level, there was an odd softness in his blue eyes as he took in a breath. Maybe she'd been wrong, "This mornin', there was a problem...your, your Mom and your little brother, Charlie-"
"They're dead aren't they?" Lilly asked, a frantic tone reaching up from her voice and into her eyes. Beth took a deep, quiet breath.
Daryl didn't say anything for a moment, she watched his chest rise and fall, "I'm sorry."
The little girl didn't scream, or fall - her little hands just balled up into fists, and her face drooped, and Beth got this odd feeling that she was crumpling up inside as her lip started to tremble, "What?"
"I'm sorry, " Daryl said again, "Wasn't anything we could've done -"
"Did someone kill them?" The girl's voice cracked, "Did my, my -"
"I'm sorry, Lilly." Daryl confirmed her suspicions as the tears started to fall, one then another, and then a stifled sob as her face twisted up. Beth looked away just as one of Daryl's large, callused hands settled on the girl's dainty little shoulder.
Beth closed her eyes. She wasn't going to get used to this.
It had taken three hours just to scan all of those reports, and Daryl and Carol's notes into her lap top. It had taken another hour and a half to download everything else for the next case, and start taking her own notes. This was a crime of passion from the looks of it, most everything pointed towards the victim's husband. It was almost tied up, evidence compiled, trial dates set...only problem was the suspect was rich as hell, and his lawyer had a record of getting bastards like this off.
She sighed, closing out the folder she'd made on her laptop, and clicking the "create new" button. Next case.
"Beth?" Maggie squinted, it was one thirty in the morning. "I didn't hear you come home." Maggie had been going to bed pretty early these days, actually she slept a lot in general these days. She'd been dead out when Beth got back at nine, and from the way Ceasar, Tyreese's partner, had been talking back in the break room - she was lucky she was getting off at nine.
It was good to be somewhere that wasn't Daryl's truck, or the office across the hall from his. Anywhere where he could pop his head in and make one, gruff comment that somehow felt as bad as getting yelled at. She'd been playing a bit of music while she sorted through that god awful list of possible contacts, and he'd come in and essentially told her to turn it off and insulted her taste in all of ten words.
Half an hour later he'd given her a withering, impatient glare when she still hadn't finished tracking down all the contacts for Frank Martin. He could've done it if he thought he'd do a better job. Ten names, a variety of vague descriptions, one place of work. There were fifty two Francisco Hernandez's in the Atlanta metropolitan area alone, forget anyone who might drive into town.
Her head still hurt, but Daryl hadn't been giving her any slack. So she popped some advil, drank a cup of coffee, and resolved to finish notes on at least half of the cases. The faster she got caught up the better.
"What're you still doing up?" Maggie asked.
"Work," Beth responded shortly.
"Did you…"
"Shit!" Beth cursed, and Maggie's brow furrowed, Beth didn't swear very often, "I'm sorry Maggie, I forgot."
"You forgot?" The edge in her older sister's voice was apparent.
"I said I was sorry okay?" She knew she shouldn't be getting testy with Maggie, she'd been through a lot since Glenn died, "I had a long day."
"Beth, you promised."
"And I'm sorry!" Beth looked up from her laptop, "It just...slipped. My partner's a jerk, and I almost ran into his car this morning, and he's been on my ass the rest of the day, and I've got all these reports to catch up on...and I had my first case today."
Maggie's gaze softened a bit at that, "Was it...?"
"Bad?" She asked, and Maggie nodded, "It was a kid. A four year old kid and his mom...Dad's an abusive addict from the sounds of it…"
"I'm sorry." Maggie sat down in the chair next to her, a hand going to her knee.
"We had to tell and eleven year old her family was dead." Beth still felt kind of sick about that...more than kind of.
"Does she have a place to stay?" Maggie asked, and Beth nodded.
"Her grandma's flying down from Minnesota, gonna take her and the baby up there after we're done asking questions." She and Daryl were going down to Social Services in the morning, see if Lilly might know where her father had gone. She hadn't exactly been in a good state to talk to today...it was past midnight, technically it was yesterday. Though she didn't know if she'd be any better off the next time they saw her. "Look I'm sorry, about not asking around...I'll do it tomorrow, I promise."
Her phone buzzed on the end table between their two chairs. Zach's most recent text popped up, the previous three below it.
"You've got twelve texts from him," Maggie commented, looking at her with a frown as she scrolled down the list. "Three from Amy."
"I know." Beth took the phone and set back on the table, "Been busy."
She'd actually managed to find those flats today, and her feet were very very grateful. Her eyes, on the other hand, were pissed. They burned, and struggled to stay open, and she was getting dangerously close to heading into the break room and grabbing a cup of that gray, disturbingly textured coffee.
She'd gotten through five cases instead of ten, but if she did five a night she'd still be caught up by the end of the week. Instead she'd kept searching for the other names on her list, she'd pretty solidly identified four more. She was at seven now, and working towards her eighth when Daryl sauntered in - once again unannounced, and stared at her.
He did this a lot. He'd take a moment to actually say what he wanted from her, just stared at her like she'd figure it out through some sort of passive telepathy. It gave her anxious butterflies low in her stomach, and she could feel his eyes burning into her, but she didn't look up. He wanted her to acknowledge him, he better talk.
"Greene," he caught her attention in his low, raspy, 'I haven't had my coffee yet voice'. Apparently he was the only one who might avoid the break room coffee as adamantly as her. He'd been complaining about how he didn't have time to stop and get his own this morning (by complaining she meant he muttered a couple of pissy sounding sentences), but she was happy he wasn't complaining to her about her for once. "C'mon, we gotta go."
She nodded, grabbing her stuff and meeting him at the door. They walked down to the elevator in silence; and to the truck, in silence; and drove the first fourteen minutes, in silence. Dixon didn't say a damn word to her until he suddenly parallel parked in front of a starbucks, and started to get out.
"Wait!" She said, reaching into her purse and pulling out a ten dollar bill, "Get me one too? Tall, dark roast, touch of cream, no sugar."
"How the hell you drink coffee without sugar?" He asked, looking at her like she'd grown an extra head or something.
"I dunno, gets a funny aftertaste when I put sugar in it."
He shook his head, muttering something along the lines of 'crazy girl' and 'don't like fuckin' sugar' as he shut the door. A few minutes later he was back with a tall and a grande that he was already gulping though it had to be scalding.
"You're gonna burn your tongue like that," she said as he handed her her cup. He ignored the comment, taking another swig, setting it in his cup holder, and taking off again.
"So, your dad." Daryl was comfortably leaning back in the chair across from Lilly, almost looking casual, "Can you tell me anything about him?"
Beth glanced between the two of them, pen poised to take notes. Daryl had said he'd handle this, if she had any pressing questions she'd speak up, but for now she figured she'd just watch.
"You mean like, where he is?" Lilly asked. She wasn't crying anymore, though her eyes looked red. Her grandma sat next to her, hand over her granddaughter's, looking like she'd been crying just as much. Her daughter and grandson were dead after all.
"If you know." Daryl said.
"She doesn't," Lilly's grandmother, Miranda, quickly cut in.
"Let the girl answer for herself," he said, sounding a bit less than friendly. The woman was caring, and loved her granddaughter. She was just stressed, and kind of overbearing.
"I don't."
Daryl nodded, "Did your dad ever bring anyone over to the house a lot? A dealer maybe?"
Miranda stiffened, " , she's a child!"
"She's old enough," he said, and turned his attention back to Lilly, "Ever mention one? Maybe stop by their house when he picked you up from school?"
"A man came by pretty often," Lilly started, Miranda looking immensely uncomfortable. "I don't remember his name...I think it started with an M. I tried to stay in my room when he came by."
"You remember anything else about him?"
"He was white, middle aged, with a buzz cut. And he had a thick accent, like yours, like he was from out in the country." Miranda made a short, snorting sound, and Daryl's eyes flicked coldly up towards the old woman for a moment, "He rode a bike too, like a motorcycle."
"What kind of motorcycle?"
Lilly shrugged, "I dunno...it was old."
Daryl blinked, and a kind of annoyed look crossed his face for a moment, though she had absolutely no idea who he could be mad at right now, "This man...his eyes, what color were they?"
"Blue. Really light blue."
Daryl nodded, suddenly packing his things.
She frowned, kind of odd question to end on. She guessed it could help i.d. him, but blue eyes weren't exactly uncommon. There had to be a thousand blue eyed white guys who rode vintage bikes in Georgia alone, and she was sure plenty of them would have the first initial M, and at least a handful of those would sell drugs.
"Dixon…" she started as he stood, they'd hardly even started asking questions.
He ignored her, "Thank you," he muttered, looking at Lilly, "You've been helpful."
Had she? Had any of this been helpful? Before she could ask he was out the door, glancing between the door, and the girl and her grandmother she got up and threw her things into her bag.
"I'm - I'm sorry for you loss," she said sincerely, and ran after Daryl. "Hey!" She called, catching up to him "Hey, what was that?"
"Guy's an addict," he explained as she struggled to keep up with his brisk stride, "first things first he's gonna head for his dealer. If he ain't still round, we might be able to get some information on where he's gone."
"Yeah, got that." She said, still feeling very confused as they stepped out into the parking lot, "What I'm wondering, is how we're going to find him. Cause blue eyed guy with a bike is a pretty weak ass excuse for a warrant, cause last time I checked, dealers ain't too happy about people bustin' into their houses unannounced."
"Don't need a warrant," he said nonchalantly.
What the hell was going on? "Where are we even going?"
"We ain't." He said, hopping into his truck, locking the doors, and driving off.
"Dixon!" She yelled, running after him, "Dixon!" He tore out into the street, and roared down the road. "Great." A very bitter smile crossed her lips, "Just perfect."
She'd been in a bad mood again when she got home. She didn't have money for a cab, and had no one who could come pick her up, so she'd walked. Walked for an hour and a half, all the way back to Downtown Atlanta. Her feet and heels were covered in blisters from flats that weren't meant for walking long distances in, and her leg ached, and really just wanted to take a nap.
She couldn't though, cause if Dixon was going to be an ass and run out on her, she might as well be productive in the meantime. Four hours later, a complete contact list of names, and six more reviewed cases she finally dragged herself the forty five minutes back home.
It was almost eight o'clock when she walked in the door, and from the look on Maggie's face, Beth was pretty sure she knew she'd had yet another sucky day.
"You wanna talk about it?" Maggie asked.
An hour later, Beth was complaining about the utter disaster that was her two day old partnership with Daryl Dixon. From his surly attitude, to downright ditching ten miles from their office. By the time she'd finished the first glass of wine she was feeling looser, and the chinese take out had arrived. Maggie was suggesting she take a bubble bath, and thankfully not asking about Glenn, cause Beth was already feeling pissed. She didn't want guilt on top of that - a glass of wine might turn into half a bottle and a good cry in the shower...it had been a rough couple of days.
Rough couple of months.
"No, he's a total jerkwad!" She said, opening up her container of rice.
"Beth, sweetie, you're twenty six. Even you know looks and personality don't have to match," Maggie teased, and Beth rolled her eyes, "So? C'mon is he at least fun to look at?"
"He's-" She didn't get to finish the sentence, cut off by a heavy knock on the door.
"I'll get it." Maggie jumped up. She was in a good mood today, maybe it was the wine. She'd always been a happy drunk. They hadn't exactly made it to drunk yet, but healthy buzz was a good word. She was planning on getting drunk though, hangover be damned.
"Beth there?" A familiar voice echoed down the hall, and she groaned. Maggie invited him in, and she groaned even harder. Then she remembered what she was wearing - she'd already changed into her favorite pj shirt, the one that hung down to mid-thigh so she wouldn't need to wear pants. Right then, she was about ready for the lord to take her. Jumping up, she was about to run upstairs, at least find a pair of sweats, but it was too late. He'd seen her.
He blinked, eyes going up and down once in surprise. She felt just as surprised when he looked at the ground. Wasn't that he expected him to be creepy, just that she hadn't expected his ears to go all pink. She wouldn't exactly call herself presentable, but it was just her legs - he'd see more if she wore shorts and a tank top.
He looked a bit haggard. Suit rumpled, tie loosened, hair messy. Maggie was standing behind him, glancing between the man and her sister with wide eyes.
"Get dressed," he muttered, not looking at her, "I found him. Warrant's already gone through."
"Yeah…" Beth said, going back to confused - if too startled to be annoyed, "Be right back." With that she darted up the stairs, and to her room, Maggie close behind. The door shut, and Beth started searching for anything to wear - pulling on a pair of jean shorts and a comfy blue tee. She really didn't want to pull today's clothes out of the hamper, and using another work outfit would mean having to do laundry a day early. Anyways, putting those skirt suits on took ages anyways. She needed to go arrest the guy, not audition for America's Next Top Model.
"Is that Daryl?" Maggie asked.
"Yes, that's Dixon." Beth said, pulling the shirt over her head, and starting to throw things around. Where'd she put all her socks?
"I wouldn't call him the next Patrick Swayze or anything, but he has a nice ass." Beth chucked a book at her, missing and hitting the wall instead. Socks, she'd found socks. "Face ain't bad either, kinda bad boy looking."
"Oh my God, Maggie. Shut up. He hears a word of this, and I swear to God I'll kill you." Maggie just laughed. Beth glared at her, pulling her socks on, and running back down the stairs. Daryl didn't acknowledge her appearance this time, just waited for her to pull on a pair of shoes - she winced as they squeezed over her blisters.
Gun and badge clipped to her belt, she dashed out, and Daryl slammed the door behind them - his truck was still running on the curb.
"How the did you even find him?" She asked.
"Found his dealer." He said as the truck's engine turned over and they took off.
"How?" Apparently he still wasn't going to answer that question. She rolled her eyes, glaring out the window as they sped towards the highway. They must've been heading out of Atlanta, "Did you even have a good reason for ditching me today?"
"Yep."
"You gonna tell me?"
"Nope.
She held back the urge to groan. Daryl Dixon was the most impossible man she had ever met.
A bullet proof vest was handed to her as they surrounded the little abandoned cabin out in the woods. Apparently Daryl had called for backup - Dawn and Gorman were there, so was Rick. Frank Martin was only man, but he was only one man who, for all they knew, was as high as a kite and could have anything from a Baretta to an AK-47 with him. Vest on and gun drawn, she slowly creeped through the knee high grass.
It had been nearly an hour drive out there - she still had no clue how Daryl had found the place. He'd have to write it in the final reports wouldn't he? She was allowed to read those, if he wouldn't tell her she'd just have to wait and find out herself. She glanced at him, stalking through the grass just a bit ahead of her. Maggie was right, he did have a pretty stellar ass. She shook her head, she had a job to do, and a boyfriend back in New York.
No room for Daryl Dixon's ass.
She winced as the old, rotting wood of the porch creaked and groaned under their weight. Rick and Daryl were in the lead, she just behind. The cabin was small, no more than one or two rooms. There wouldn't be a lot of room for Martin to hide. Daryl gently, quietly, jiggled the door knob. He shook his head, locked.
'Three,' Rick mouthed, counting on his fingers, 'Two,' he dropped another, 'One.' Daryl slammed into the door, rickety wood easily giving way under his weight as they rushed in, guns up.
"Hands up!" Daryl yelled to an empty room. It was hard to see in the dark, but they were definitely alone. Rick gestured for Lerner and Gorman to go check around back as the three of them went over the room for safe measure. Slinking along the floor, the silence was only broken by the creak of wood under their feet, that is, until the door opened.
She'd thought it was the backdoor, but as her feet left the ground, and the wind went out of her. She figured that maybe it wasn't. Everything was spinning as she tried to wriggle around, find the gun that she'd heard skitter across the floor. Between the man straddling her chest and the hard hit on the floor, she was struggling to breath as she kicked out - trying to get a knee into his back.
Her hands were pinned between his thighs, and while he didn't have a gun, metal flashed as he raised his hand.
"Greene!" Someone yelled. She struggled, and kicked, and wham. The weight disappeared as two men crashed into the coffee table, Lerner and Gorman rushing in the door as Daryl slammed a fist into Martin's nose. Beth coughed, trying to get her lungs working again, trying to find her gun. Not that she needed it anymore, Dixon was slapping handcuffs on Frank Martin, and Rick was helping her to her feet.
She let out a shaky breath. Day still hadn't gotten better.
"I should have seen the door, should've been more careful." Beth said, not really expecting Daryl to respond. She just wanted someone to hear her say it. She felt like an idiot. And like she shouldn't mention the glass and a half of wine she'd drank before going out to arrest a potentially dangerous man.
Daryl glanced over at her, one hand on the wheel as they rolled through Georgia's backroads, headlights cutting a path in the dark. "Just don't do it again, Greene." He muttered, sounding about as tired as she felt. It was two in the morning, and they were still an hour out of Atlanta.
"He gonna stay in state this time?" She didn't like the idea of him getting out, finding those kids - Lilly, and the baby, Macy.
"If Andrea does her job right."
"Andrea?" She asked, head lolling back a bit. Her eyes really wanted to close.
"DA."
"I know an Andrea," she mumbled, "My best friend's sister. Andrea Harrison."
"She a lawyer?" He asked, and she nodded, "Blonde, blue eyes, square jaw?" He asked, and she nodded again. "Probably the same one."
"Huh, should go say hi to her," she muttered sleepily, "Amy never mentioned she was the DA down here." Her stomach rumbled, and Daryl glanced at her again. She hadn't eaten since breakfast...he'd kind of dragged her away from dinner.
"Hungry?" He asked.
"Yeah."
He didn't say anything else, but fifteen minutes later they were turning off the road and into the parking lot of a rather remote Waffle House. Fifteen minutes later he had a plate of steak and eggs in front of him, she had a blueberry waffle and a nice hot cup of coffee. It was quiet for a while, just listening to the chatter of a the five unfortunate workers on the graveyard shift.
Her phone buzzed on the counter, Zach was texting her again.
"You gonna get that?" He looked at her, and she shook her head.
"Can I ask you something?" He just grunted in response, and she figured that was the go ahead, "Did you know Glenn Rhee?"
His eyes left his plate and found hers, mouth still full of food, he chewed slowly as he nodded, and then swallowed. "Yeah, met him a few times. Drugs Unit, we overlapped more than a few cases." He took a sip of his coffee, "Shame, he was a good guy."
She blinked. Praise from Daryl Dixon was about as rare as a miracle. If anyone deserved though, it was Glenn, "Yeah, yeah he was."
"You know him?" He asked.
"Brother in law. You met his widow tonight, my sister, Maggie." He bit his lip, nodding, "When she found out I was working down here she practically begged me to look into it for her."
He shook his head, "Ain't allowed to work cases like that, fucks with your judgement...too personal." He sounded pretty bitter.
"S'what I told her...I dunno she's just frustrated I think. Hasn't been any progress."
"Everett and Espinoza got that case," he said, taking another bite of steak, "Think he pissed off some drug trafficking gang, or cartel or somethin."
"You believe that?" She asked him, looking at him over her coffee mug.
He shook his head, "Hanged him, didn't just want him dead, wanted people scared. Gang would've owned up to it by now, put a mark on the body in the first place...warnin' to other cops not to fuck with'em again. Whoever this is don't want us knowin' who they are." He glanced up at the clock, "C'mon, Greene, get a box for that." He stood, "I'll take ya home."
Woo first chapter, and holy shit it's long. I was expecting it to be long, but not this long at all. Well I hope y'all enjoyed, and I hope to hear back from you. Constructive or positive, I just wanna know if you guys like it. Something seems terribly off with characterization or anything and I can even go back and edit this before I start the second.
Thanks so much for reading! I hope to see ya soon!