A/N: Warning for discussion of violence towards women. If you do not wish to read this, just skip to the asterisks.
Thank you again for your support and encouragement! There's another cliffhanger, y'all, I do apologize!
A body drops directly in front of their faces.
Beth presses her lips together tightly at the sight of a man who has been severely beaten. His eyes are swollen shut, an arrow protruding from one socket, and his jaw hangs at an odd angle. Blood's smeared across his face and hoodie. She doesn't recognize him and spares a second to be grateful for the fact.
She notices how white Daryl's knuckles are from his grip on his crossbow.
A foot prods the body on the ground. "Len never did know when to shut up. Stupid bastard."
"He shouldn't've lied to Joe's face is what he shouldn't've done," the other man says. "Least he won't be coming back. Probably be the worst sort of walker. All up in your face and clawing at you."
Their laughter sends chills all through Beth and she presses her lips even harder together.
"How soon do you think it'll take for us to catch up to those assholes?" the first voice asks. "I cannot wait to see the look on that bastard's face when he sees us coming for him and his bitch. Gonna make him watch."
Daryl goes real still and presses down even more on Beth.
"Been so long since I had myself a good, quality piece," the other voice says.
"Pickin's are slim these days. Last piece I had was way back when we found that group on the side of the road," is the reply. "Damn, that was fine. Screamed like nothing else."
Beth's stomach rolls and she squeezes her eyes closed, shutting out the sight of the dead man in front of her.
"Think Joe will let us all have a turn?" one of them says.
"He fuckin' better," the other man says. "You can bet your ass I'm claiming that bitch for myself."
"Hell yeah." They laugh again and Beth thinks she may throw up or get out her knife and go to town on them. She wants to grab hold of Daryl somehow, but her hands are trapped beneath her body and are cramping around her crossbow.
"Better get back before the booze is gone," one of them says.
The walk away, leaving the dead man where they dropped him. ***
The footsteps recede but they both continue to lie there on the ground. Beth's crossbow is digging into her chest and arms; Daryl is a dead weight on top of her. Eventually, he slowly gets off of her and slides out from under the viburnam. Beth pauses, then follows and once she's to her feet she stares down at the body.
Well.
At least they know that they are following a man and a woman and that's more than likely Rick and Michonne. Now they know for sure.
They also know what kind of people they're following. The body at their feet looks pitiful and wretched.
She looks at Daryl and his face is blank as he stares at the woods in the direction the men went.
"Guess we got their measure," Beth says quietly.
He glances at her and then away. Then he turns and starts walking towards the train tracks. He doesn't say a word and Beth feels a chill crawl through her and settle into her heart.
She still follows him.
They reach the tracks and Daryl pauses, turns his head to look both ways, then marches up the gravel embankment and over the tracks, heading into the woods on the other side.
He's still not saying anything and Beth feels the cold stab into her chest.
"What are we doing?" she asks, her voice small.
He doesn't answer, just walks faster. Beth picks up the pace and tries to walk beside him but he just speeds up and won't look at her.
She sets her jaw and keeps up. After an hour of walking, her legs burning from going so fast, and every muscle in her body stiff from nerves and, quite possibly, anger, they hit a county road.
Daryl stops and looks around. Then heads off in the same direction as the tracks.
"Daryl," Beth tries, and his shoulders twitch but he keeps walking. She tries again. "Daryl!"
He doesn't acknowledge her.
"Are you actually ignoring me now?" she asks, her voice rising. "'Cause that's real mature, you know."
He stops and turns to face her. His eyes are narrowed and she has the urge to take a step back but she holds her ground.
"Mature?" he repeats, his voice soft and low. "Girl, you still thinking this is some kind of hero's journey? You thinking that we're going to go in and save the day? You thinking that we're going to win? That there are any winners around here? Huh? That what you're thinking?"
"Daryl," she whispers.
"'Cause there ain't! There are no heroes and there are no winners," he says, stepping in close. "There are survivors. That's it. And you don't survive by holding hands and sitting close and telling stories about your dead family."
Beth feels like she's been punched in the stomach and a gasp escapes her as she says, "Don't. Don't do this."
But he's not done and she can see it in his eyes as he steps even closer.
"If I hadn't shoved you down on that ground," he says, his voice just above a whisper. "If I hadn't heard them, if I had waited one second longer, do you know what would have happened? Huh? Do you?" He bares his teeth. "I'd be dead. I'd be dead and you'd be wishing you were dead, too."
Tears are burning behind her eyes and in her throat and she can't swallow them back. She can barely breathe; it hurts. It hurts so much, hearing him say it. And knowing how right he is.
"You want to know what we're going to do?" he says. "We're going to get a vehicle and we're going to find Rick goddamn Grimes and then we're going to let him take over. 'Cause I ain't no leader and I ain't going to be responsible for you no more. You hear me?"
"I hear you," she says, staring at him and feeling empty.
"It ain't about being something out here," he says. "It's about staying alive as long as you can and that means you keep quiet and you stay frosty and you don't get distracted by-"
He cuts himself off and just stares at her. There's a moment when she sees it, all his fear and want and it's focused on her and she leans towards him, just a fraction. But he looks away, back towards the woods.
"No distractions no more, nothing but what it takes to live," he says flatly.
And just like that, she's furious. She manages to swallow back the tears of frustration because what can she say? What can she possibly say to change his mind? Hell, she's halfway to believing it herself after what they heard.
But if there is one thing she knows after everything, after losing her family, after seeing pure evil and pure apathy up close, she knows for absolute certain that it takes more than silence and walking sun up to sun down to survive. And he damn well knows that. But she'll be damned if she's going to waste her breath on him when he's too afraid to admit how much he needs her.
"Fine," she says, her voice cold and as flat as his. He glances at her and she can see the surprise in his eyes.
Oh, he didn't expect her to fall in line, did he? Well, that's just too darn bad.
"You want me quiet? Fine. You want a good little soldier? Fine." She steps up into his space and looks at him until he meets her eyes. "You want me cold? You got it, Daryl Dixon."
She steps back when she spots the moment uncertainty creeps into his eyes and just straightens her shoulders, then says, "Well, lead on, then."
His eyes narrow again and his mouth twists and then he striding off down the highway. She glares at the angel wings on his vest and follows, keeping a good two feet between them.
By the time they get themselves to the edge of a small town, Beth is just simmering. Her skin feels stretched tight and her jaw hurts from clenching it.
Daryl turns off the highway into the lot of a gas station. The windows to the store are shattered and the pieces of glass crunch under their feet.
The sound draws out two walkers from the inside of the shop and they stumble towards Beth and Daryl, arms outstretched, that raspy, gargling sound coming from their chests. Beth takes aim, but Daryl's already there, swinging his crossbow at their skulls with sickening crunches. Beth keeps her crossbow up just in case, but Daryl's anger reduces the walkers' heads to nothing and she lowers her crossbow.
He doesn't even glance at her; just stares down at the bodies. She waits to feel the urge to go to him, to offer some kind of comfort, but it's not there. She just feels drained and empty and cold.
He's made his choice, she tells herself. You are not going to make excuses for him and comfort him because he's making the choice to be a jerk.
She wonders if she's being unfair.
She's not sure she cares.
He goes into the garage and she follows, crossbow at the ready. He glances at the cars left and Beth wrinkles her nose at the lack of choice. There's a small VW Colt that's seen better days and a pick-up without any tires sitting on concrete blocks.
There's something small covered up with a sheet in the back and Daryl goes over to it. He pulls the sheet off and it reveals a dusty dirtbike missing an engine. He curses and throws the sheet back over it. Beth steps back when he turns to head out of the garage.
He shoots her a glance that she returns, keeping her expression as blank as she can. A furrow appears on his forehead, but then he's out of the garage and walking around the building.
There's another pick-up parked in the back, weeds and grass growing up around tires. A dead man is half in, half out of the driver's side and Daryl carefully eases the body out and to the ground.
He slides into the seat and looks around for the keys. Beth stands beside the door and flips the visor down. The keys fall into Daryl's lap. He stares down at the keys then turns his head to look at her, his hair hanging in his eyes. She stares back.
"It ain't gonna work, is it?" he asks corner of his mouth turning up.
"You know more about trucks than I do, you tell me," she says shrugging a shoulder.
"Ain't talking about the truck," he says. "Talking about us."
"Thought we didn't need an 'us' to survive," she says, leaning against the door.
"Christ, girl, you going to make me say it?" he says banging his hand on the steering wheel.
"Say what?" she says, with deliberate innocence.
He grits his teeth and she can see the muscle in his jaw clenching. Then he blows out a deep breath and lowers his head. "I can't protect you, Beth. I can't. And I don't know how to make it hurt less when the time comes and I fail."
To be honest, she'd expected him to either start ignoring her again or maybe mumble some kind of an apology. She didn't expect him to actually tell her the truth. Her lips part in shock, then she says, "Well, ignoring me now won't make it hurt any less when I'm gone. That's not the answer."
"I know," he nods. "I know that. But what else can I do? Lock you up in some tower somewhere?"
"That's what Daddy tried to do and look how that turned out," she says with a sad laugh. "Daryl, you do what you've been doing. You teach me how to survive, how to exist in this world, and maybe that will be enough."
He shakes his head.
"You also need to have a little bit of faith in me," she says firmly. "I know I'm no warrior, but I'm not useless. I'm keeping up, aren't I?"
He nods.
"I'm learning pretty fast, too, right?"
"Yeah," he mutters.
"And it's not like we had any guarantees before, did we?" she says. She puts her hand on his arm and tugs gently until he looks at her. "I have no promises I can give, but I swear to God, I will try as hard as I can to stay alive. But you got to promise me that you won't just ignore me because you're afraid. Yell, if you want, go kill a dozen walkers with your bare hands, but don't ignore me, Daryl Dixon."
He stares at her for so long, she starts to want to fidget, or play with her hair, something. Then he says, "You are a fierce little thing, ain't you? I don't know why I'm getting all worried over you. It ain't me who's going be the last one standing. It's gonna be you."
"No," she says shaking her head and feeling the cold thaw in her chest. "It's going to be us. Now, get this truck started, Dixon. We don't have all day. We've got surviving to do."
"Yes, ma'am," he says and there's a spark back in his eyes. Relief just floods her body and she sways against the car door. He frowns. "You all right?"
"I am now," she says grinning. "Staying mad at you is wearing on a body."
He smirks ruefully. "I know. I'm an asshole. Sorry about that."
"You really, really are," she says nodding.
He shoves the keys into the ignition and the engine catches then stalls out. He tries again. "Hell."
Beth moves as he gets out of the truck and pops the hood. He pokes around and mutters, "Damn spark plugs."
She follows him back into the garage and keeps watch while he rummages around. After finding what he needs, he goes back to the truck. A walker is making its way towards them from a building nearby.
"Got it," she says, taking aim. Daryl nods and starts to work on the truck, keeping an eye on the walker.
Beth walks towards it and when she thinks she's close enough, she adjusts the bow up and over and squeezes the trigger. The arrow flies straight into the head and the walker drops.
"Nice," she hears behind her as she walks to get her arrow. It's probably…no, it's definitely silly of her, but she tosses her hair just a bit and adds some sway to her walk and is rewarded by a low chuckle. She's grinning when she pulls out the arrow.
It takes Daryl a good hour and a half to get the truck up and running, so they decide to camp in the truck overnight and head out before dawn. They eat dinner sitting in the bed of the truck, backs against the cab.
"Don't want to drive at night," he says as they eat baked beans out of a can and some corn nuts from the garage store. "Dead giveaway, headlights on a road. We get going just before sun up and we'll make up the time."
Beth nods. She still feels on edge and the words of those men echo every now and again in her head. And really, she'd been expecting Daryl to go all silent on her again at some point and at least they got past it and are talking again. She supposes that she hadn't realized just how much it would hurt to have him go quiet and cold on her again. Thinking about it makes her sick to her stomach and she lowers her can of beans.
"What?" he asks as he pops some corn nuts into his mouth.
"Please don't go quiet on me again," she asks looking over at him. He stills but she goes on. "I know it's childish of me and I have no right to ask you to act one way or another, but please. I'd rather have you yelling and railing at the world for hours than get nothing from you."
He looks down and frowns. "Never had no one tell me different before. Always thought going quiet was better."
"Maybe it is sometimes," she says nodding. "But not when I don't know why. Please just tell me what you're thinking. Otherwise…" She trails off. "Just don't shut me out."
"I'll try," he says, looking back at her. "You're going to have to remind me, though."
She smiles. "Another thing to put on the list. Am I turning into your keeper, Daryl Dixon?"
"Yes," he says so seriously her heart does that stuttering thing in her chest. "You are, Beth Greene. Like I'm yours."
What he's said hits them both at the same time and she can feel her eyes widen just as his does. If it was happening to someone else, in a movie somewhere, there'd be music and maybe they'd kiss or the credits would roll. But they're by the side of a Georgia county highway and she can hear the rasp of a walker out there somewhere and life is nothing like a movie these days.
So, she just grins a little at him and says, "I'll take first watch."
The next morning, about an hour before dawn, they head off down the road. It's slow-going as they have to maneuver around the odd car or truck stalled in the middle of the road, but it's still faster than walking.
Beth rolls the window down and tilts her head into the rush of air as the truck drives along. She hums a line from a Moody Blues song and then sits back.
"Always liked road trips," she says as they speed past a clump of walkers that stretch out their hands to the truck. "Liked the rhythm of the roads, laying in the backseat, looking at the sky through the window."
"Got as far as Savannah once," he says shifting gears to get around a turned over mini-van. "My mama wanted to see her sister and she was sober, for once, and took me along. Listened to Patsy Cline the whole way there and back."
"Crazy," Beth sings. "I'm crazy for feeling so lonely. I'm crazy. Crazy for feeling so blue."
"That's Patsy, all right," he says chuckling. "And that's your song, sure enough."
Beth grins and looks out the window. She can see the tracks through the thinning trees and spies something that makes her shout, "Stop! Daryl, stop!"
He slams the brakes on and yells, "Jesus! What the fuck, Beth? What is it?"
"Sorry," she says fumbling at her seatbelt. "But, I saw something."
She gets the seatbelt undone and is out of the truck, crossbow in her hands. She hears Daryl cursing behind her as she walks quickly through sparse trees between the highway and the tracks. She glances up and down the sharp bend of the tracks before darting over them to stand in front of another of those signs for Terminus.
Beth bites her lip and reaches her hand out to touch the words underneath the sign. The blood is dry, but it's something.
"Glenn, go to Terminus. Maggie," Daryl reads out. "Your sister sure knows how to get someone's attention."
"She sure does," Beth says grinning. Her grin falters a little. "She just says Glenn, though. Does she think I'm dead?"
She looks to Daryl and he goes to say something but the crunch of gravel behind them has him shoving her behind his back and training his crossbow on the people rounding the bend.
Beth has her own bow in hand and her eyes widen when the people come into view.