Beth scrubbed her hands across her face in frustration and slumped into a cross legged position on the floor.
The ground was cool and hard beneath her. She still had yet to determine what it was made of since she'd never seen any surface maintain such a pristine seamless white. Probably something to do with where she was. Which was purgatory or limbo or whatever you might define it as.
Beth was tempted to use the word hell if Merle didn't shut up soon.
"You ain't trying hard enough!"
Beth fixed him with a steely glare. "I am!" she retorted. "You're just a bad teacher," she added spitefully.
"Can only work with what I've got," Merle spat back, folding his arms.
That was hard to argue with. Merle had promised to get her back to the land of the living if she promised to look out for Daryl. That had been an easy thing to agree to. She hadn't known the hunter very well until they had been separated when the prison fell and they'd spent long periods of time alone together.
But he was… her friend at the very least. Beth felt a tug in her stomach thinking about him. His face was the clearest in her mind. She still remembered the look of anguish on his face as he shed those tears on that cloudless day.
Beth was too exhausted to delve into the odd pull she felt towards him, that invasive eagerness to see him again and protect him.
"I'm sorry," Beth murmured, "I'm just frustrated. I thought I'd be back by now."
Merle released his arms from their sulking cross against his body. Instead he pulled out a packet of cigarettes. "Never said it was going to be easy." He still sounded defensive but at least he wasn't snarling at her.
He offered the pack to Beth who declined. Merle wasn't being polite, he got a kick out of Beth saying no even though she was technically already dead.
Beth caught his smirk and wrinkled her nose in his direction. "Still gross," she said by way of explanation.
"Suit yourself," Merle replied with a shrug, smoke streaming out of his nose and mouth. "Should we try again or you giving up?"
"No!" Beth snapped back. Merle managed to make even an innocent question sound infuriating.
"Well then, maybe you want to stand the hell up and have a go?"
Beth sat a beat longer before pushing herself up. Her knees had begun to ache from sitting on the ground. Another thing she didn't understand about her new state. She could still experience certain physical sensations.
She swayed slightly from foot to foot, trying to centre her weight. Beth closed her eyes with a sigh and emptied her mind. From what Merle had been told, getting back was about emotionally connecting with what you had left behind.
Beth had been using Maggie's face and Daryl's pain as her anchor.
"It might not be enough?" Merle mused. He sounded knowing, like he could see Daryl's sharp blue eyes in her mind's eye.
"Now you tell me," Beth grumbled. Her cheeks felt hot. She had kept her thoughts on Daryl largely from his gruff older brother. She didn't want Merle mocking her mercilessly.
"It's one thing to remember that you love 'em and want to go back and see them but do you remember why?"
"Course I do! They're my family."
"That's not a good why. Otherwise why ain't everyone here? What do you wanna achieve by going back? What do you want to change?"
Beth swallowed thickly. What did she want to change? Being dead. Light flared briefly behind her closed eyes and she heard a flurry of voices roar around her but it passed in an instant and was replaced once more with the sterile silence of limbo.
But that was impossible. So what did she want to achieve? She wanted to see Daryl again. Talk to him if possible.
And why? Well because of one little word. A word that had so much promise and confusion and apprehension attached.
Oh.
Beth felt a sensation like hot water running down the length of her spine. She snapped to attention, eyes flying open.
It was night time – her eyes blinked rapidly to adjust to the extreme change in light. She's spent an indeterminate amount of time in a featureless wasteland with nothing but Merle Dixon to look at.
And now she was in a dining room with candle light and pasta and Daryl.
Beth's stomach dropped and she experienced a flood of nerves seeing him again. She had practically lived with him for weeks – it was ridiculous that she would be scared to see the man she had called names and flipped off not so very long ago. But she was. It was mitigated by the fact that he couldn't see her.
Her fear was somewhat eroded by the sight of Daryl at a proper table that was set and everything. Beth quickly realised that he wasn't alone in this house. He was sitting at a table with two men that she didn't recognise.
That focused her thoughts sharply. Where was Daryl? She cast her gaze around the room. She was struck by how normal everything looked. The house appeared lived in and well maintained.
Beth took a tentative step, afraid to venture too far and lose Daryl after so much effort to get back here. When she wasn't sucked immediately back into oblivion, she moved cautiously around. The kitchen was adjacent to the dining room, easily viewable in this open plan home.
Beth saw something that made her jaw drop. The microwave had a glowing digital clock on it. This house had power. Forgetting her previous hesitation, she hurriedly went into the kitchen. She pressed her hand against the fridge. It was strange to touch with this ghostly hand but Beth could still feel the hum of a working fridge against her palm. They had power and not just generators either. There was no way they would allow this careless use of power if there was just a generator.
Beth returned to the room staring in astonishment at these two men. From her new vantage point she could see out the window. They pulled the blinds but through a slit in the window she could see another home across the street with lights on too. There were people walking in the streets.
Where was she?
Beth ran a hand through her hair. How much time had passed while she'd been away? Daryl didn't seem to have aged dramatically so not that long. But why was he here with two strangers without the rest of the group. Had something happened to Maggie?
Beth redirected her attention to the men in front of her, still completely oblivious to her presence. There was little conversation and a tension in the air but it didn't feel like danger so much as it felt uncomfortable.
They were exchanging small talk. Beth could have keeled over. She'd never seen Daryl engage in small talk in the years she'd known him. The person who came close to eliciting it from him was Zach. Daryl had talked about survival or maybe about things that meant something with people he was close with.
Beth remembered their drunken night on the porch when he'd spoken of his past. One of the first indicators she'd had that the hunter might actually trust her.
And it wasn't like Daryl was pulling his weight in this conversation. The men were trying to lure him into talking but he largely responded in grunts around mouthful of food. It made Beth shake her head, a hint of a smile crossing her lips for the first time in far too long.
The men were well groomed and put together. Beth guessed they'd been living safely for some time. Something about the way the flicked their eyes to each other, communicating silently, suggested they were a couple.
Daryl wasn't verbose with his responses but he was actually making an effort to engage. It was a poor one but it was almost unprecedented. Beth realised with a start that whoever they were, Daryl liked them. She reverently wish that they knew him just a little bit better so they'd appreciate the magnitude of Daryl's behaviour here, and hopefully ignore his tendency to eat with his fingers no matter the available utensils.
The men made significant eye contact and the man with the brown head stood up and asked Daryl follow him.
Beth was pretty sure her expression mirrored Daryl's – bemused and wary but when the hunter complied, Beth followed.
The pair of them followed the man – Beth still hadn't caught his name – down the stairs into the basement. There was a haphazard sheet draped over a bike.
It was tugged away to reveal a pretty beaten up, old motorcycle. Beth could have shrugged but Daryl looked enraptured. She knew how he felt about his bike and that he'd had to leave it behind at the prison.
The man was talking to Daryl about fixing it up, finding people to bring into the community but Beth was only half listening. This man had only know Daryl for a few weeks but had performed an act of kindness and included him. Beth should have been pleased and had warm fuzzy happiness. But she felt numb, distant and jealous.
What was she here for if Daryl didn't need her? He was a good person and even if he was rough around the edges, people were going to see that.
The world around her blinked and whirred like the static on TV and for an instant she caught a glimpse of that white eternity she'd just escaped.
"No!" she hissed loudly, neither man reacting to her. Beth clenched her fist and focused on the reality around her. There was a searing flash of light and her body jerked in pain as if lightening had shot through her but her vision began to stabilise.
Daryl and the man were walking up the stairs. Beth hastened to follow them, hands shaking and legs numb.
Daryl said his awkward but polite farewell to the two men and then left. Beth trailed a few feet behind him. It was too dark to see where they were but it looked like a typical suburban setting. Houses, white picket fences and the quiet noises of the evening.
Daryl fished out a cigarette and Beth caught sight of his hand. The burn he'd inflicted on himself was mostly healed and well on its way to being a scar. The sight of it jolted her out of the brief surge of jealously she had felt in that garage.
The smoke from the cigarette trailed behind him and Beth breathed in the harsh and scratchy scent. It smelt familiar and alive. She wished she could hit it out of his hand but Merle hadn't heard of anyone being able to touch the living.
"You shouldn't do that," she lectured but Daryl just kept walking.
"No matter," Beth quipped, "you didn't listen to me at the beginning when I was alive and that changed."
Daryl stopped off in front of a house and walked up the stairs. He opened the door and went inside. There was movement to the side and Beth jumped when Michonne emerged out of the darkness. Beth felt a rush of affection for the woman. Michonne looked different. In fact so did Daryl. It dawned on Beth. They both looked clean. It stood to reason that if there was decent electricity, they had running water.
"You on guard?" Daryl asked gruffly. Michonne nodded wordlessly.
That was interesting. So far Beth had just seen a peaceful community, which was a miracle in of itself but Michonne was still on guard. She didn't look over concerned but they had all had ingrained habits from living in constant danger.
"Right. I'm going to sleep then."
Beth figured it couldn't be very late but Daryl had a weary stoop to his shoulders. Michonne opened her mouth to say something but clearly thought better of it. Instead she nodded, not that Daryl saw it with his back turned.
"Night," Michonne said simply.
Beth stayed behind him as Daryl went up to the second storey of the house and pulled down the steps to get to the attic. Of course Daryl would be sleeping in the attic. Beth hesitated on the precipice. This was Daryl's space and he wouldn't appreciate the intruder even if he couldn't see her or was even aware of her existence.
Beth could explore the rest of the house or find Maggie but she wasn't ready to leave him just yet. So she ventured further into the sparse room. The state of decoration was likely no reflection on the amount of time they'd been there. Daryl had no use for things that weren't practical. Even in his nominated cell at the prison, the space had been devoted to weapons, hunting and books about weapons and hunting.
Beth rolled her eyes when Daryl pulled the pillow of the makeshift camp-bed and onto the floor.
"You're an idiot," she noted with her hands on her hips.
To her extreme surprise, Daryl stopped what he was doing and looked around. His stare never locked onto her, Beth knew exactly what it felt like to be pinned with that gaze, but it was definitely in her general direction. Had he heard her?
"Daryl?" it came out as a whisper. Beth had suddenly forgotten how to speak. He was going to lay down soon and stop paying attention. Beth felt a rush of panic.
"Daryl," she repeated, louder and clearer. Daryl ran his hand through his hair. "You're tired," he rebuked himself, eyes beginning to drop to the ground.
"DARYL!" Beth screamed. If she had been alive, every walker in a mile radius would have heard.
Daryl jerked, stumbling to his feet and reached for his knife. The knife he'd given her.
"Someone there?"
AN: Hi all – got lots of questions asking if "Beth is really dead?" "How will they interact?" "Will they be able to touch?" etc. Can't give anything away but would you all trust me? This is supernatural fix-it fic.