A/N A special shout out to PatienceTyme, my beta reader. Her input has been invaluable, especially in regards to helping me with characterizations and wording. Also, thanks to all the people who reviewed under guest accounts for all the encouraging words and thoughts. I try to reply to every single review with a PM, but that's hard to do when you review as a guest!
Beth is not one to hold a grudge or nurse her anger, so things go back to normal between Maggie and herself in a matter of hours. If anything, she's irritated at herself for going off on her sister, not because she regrets anything she said but because the tirade took place within sight and hearing distance of Daryl, just when things seemed to be getting normal between them. Well, 'normal' isn't really the right word, perhaps 'comfortable' is a better fit. Things weren't as awkward, at least.
After her rant, she can't help worrying about what his reaction will be, because it doesn't take a genius to figure out that Daryl Dixon doesn't like having attention drawn to him. It's almost humorous, as he tends to do things that get people's attention, like save their lives and bring them food and other necessities.
He doesn't show up at supper that night, but he's at lunch the following day and he isn't avoiding eye contact with her—well, more so than usual—much to her relief. The meals are served buffet style and so everyone takes their portions and then grabs a seat wherever the mood takes them to eat. As she feeds Judith the remaining mashed bits of food off of her own plate, her gaze drifts to where Daryl is quietly talking with Rick. Judith babbles at her, drooling and cramming some crushed carrots into her mouth, and as Beth tries to get the little girl to take a bit more food, part of her conversation with Daryl from yesterday is sticking with her. After making sure Judith has eaten all she's going to, she passes the baby off to Carl and walks over to them.
She gives Daryl a warm smile before addressing Rick, "Have you got a minute?"
The former lawman's blue eyes dart over Carl is playing with his baby sister on the floor. "Is something wrong with Judith?"
"Oh no, she's fine, outside the teething thing," Beth hastily reassures him. "Wish we could chill her teething rings in ice water is all, but I guess that won't happen until the temperature drops some more." She shouldn't be nervous about this, but she is and finds herself rubbing the turquoise pendant through her sweater. For whatever reason, the gesture seems to strengthen her resolve and she squares her shoulders and states, "I want to start going on runs."
Daryl shifts from one foot to the other at her announcement, glancing from Beth to Rick to gauge his reaction but he doesn't say anything.
Pursing his lips, Rick kicks at the floor with his boot and asks, "Have you talked to Maggie about this?"
She grimaces, "Yes, for all the good that did, which is why I'm talking to you. I want to help the group and I need the experience. And before you say it, I know I'm helping by taking care of Judith, but I want to do more than just that. I can do more than just that, if you'll just let me."
"Runs can get kind of dicey," Rick says, exhaling slowly. "You don't need to feel pressured to chip in and help if you really don't want to, we got plenty of able bodied people that can go out if need be, so there's no sense in you putting yourself in danger…"
Fighting off rising frustration, Beth shakes her head, interrupting, "I'm not feeling pressured to do anything, I want to go on runs because I need the experience, I need to learn what works and what doesn't and how to stay safe when I'm out there and how to keep the people with me safe, and that's stuff I can't learn here babysitting, cooking supper and doing laundry." A long sigh escapes her, and she gives Rick a half-hearted smile, "Think of it as my way of hoping for the best, but trying to be prepared for the worst."
Rick studies her face as though he's searching for any sign of hesitation or uncertainty, and then directs his question at the man beside him. "Daryl, what do you think?"
Beth finds herself holding her breath, knowing that what he says will determine how Rick's decision plays out. Daryl doesn't talk much and when he does, it's usually because he's got something to say that's worth listening to. She's never known Rick not to take his advice.
"She held 'er own when the prison fell, right up 'til she got run down in the street," Daryl's expression darkens and his gaze shifts to where Father Gabriel is talking with Tyreese. "Hell, she's older 'an Carl, and how many runs has he been on? She wants ta go, let 'er go."
That's a glowing review coming from this particular man, and Beth is hard pressed not to beam at him.
Rick only nods once and says, "Well, right now we're practically sitting on the mother lode when it comes to supplies, so there's not much need to be going out on runs just yet. But I'll tell you what, give me a week and I'll take you out myself. That way we'll have a better idea of what we might need to get us through this winter, and it'll give Maggie some time to adjust to the idea. How's that sound?"
To be honest, it's more than she expected. "That sounds great!" Impulsively, she gives him a hug, resting her cheek on his shoulder. Daryl is watching, and his expression is one of vague displeasure, like he's got a sour taste in his mouth, so she releases Rick to hug him as well. He's as tense as ever, but he seems to relax ever so slightly in her embrace and she thinks to herself, Practice makes perfect, before drawing back from him.
"Let me be the one to break the news to Maggie, I got a feeling it'll come easier hearing it from me than it will you," Rick says with a knowing smile, and ambles over to where Maggie and Glenn are sitting together.
Beth has no desire to watch that conversation unfold and turns her back to them, telling Daryl, "I want you to teach me more about tracking, too. I feel like I was just starting to get the hang of it when we got separated."
He nods, but not before darting another glare at the priest.
Following his gaze, Beth reminds him, "It was an accident, you know that." She's already explained to everyone what had happened when she and Daryl got separated, that she'd been so focused on looking behind her for him that she didn't even see the car until it ran into her and knocked her down, the back of her head smacking hard against the pavement. Things were a bit blurry after that, she vaguely remembered being put into the car by the driver and hearing Daryl desperately calling her name as they drove away.
When she'd come to, she had a knot the size of an egg on her head and all the symptoms of a significant concussion including nausea and blurred vision, so it'd taken her a while to convince Father Gabriel Stokes that she wasn't delirious when she kept insisting that he take her back to the funeral home to find Daryl. By the time they returned, the walkers were gone, but so was he. They determined that he must have taken the other fork in the road by the railroad tracks and were following it when they ran into Tyreese, Carol and Judith and then the others fleeing from Terminus a few days after that. Daryl's been hostile toward Gabriel from the moment they met, and it doesn't seem to be dissipating with time gauging from how he glowers at the priest whenever they're in the same room.
"Don't matter. Bastard ran ya down in the street, and then took ya from..." he draws himself up short and looks away from her with his jaw clenched. Swallowing down his anger, he mutters, "He took ya. Ain't right. Ain't gonna be right."
She blinks at him, realizing for the first time that the grudge he's holding against Father Gabriel is a deeply personal one, and it's because of her. He won't look at her and she's at a momentary loss for words, feeling rather like she did when she was sitting across from the table in the funeral home. "Remember, there's still good people in the world."
"Yeah, but that don't make him one of 'em," Daryl grunts, walking away from her toward the front door.
Following after him, she inquires, "So? Are you going to teach me some more about tracking?"
He doesn't answer at first, just steps out onto the porch and adjusts his crossbow on his shoulders. "Ya sure ya wanna do that?" he finally asks. "Maybe yer sister's right, and ya ain't safe with me."
Beth snickers at that ridiculous notion and it takes her a moment to realize that he is serious. "For real? You're the one who helped me get out of the prison alive, and kept me that way for weeks when it was just the two of us, even when I was acting like a dumb college bitch. I don't know if anyone else could have done that, not even Rick. Of course I'm safe with you." It occurs to her that he's interpreted the conversation with Maggie wrong, because her sister didn't mean she was in physical danger when she was with him, but she doesn't want things any more awkward than they already are, so she decides against mentioning it.
"Didn't keep ya from gettin' hurt though, when ya was with me." He chews on the inside of his cheek and says in a low voice, "I shoulda kept ya with me, instead of makin' ya leave."
She knows he's referring to what happened at the funeral home, when the walkers had come in the front door and he'd yelled for her to leave him behind. "You're right. You should have. But it wasn't your fault that I ran in front of a car, any more than it was your fault that I didn't look where I was going and stepped into a steel trap. You may as well blame yourself for the time I tripped over a root and smacked into a tree, or stubbed my toe on a chair. No one can protect me from myself," she says ruefully, toying with her necklace through her sweater again.
Daryl's jaw tightens. "Ya ain't gotta wear that on account 'a me, ya know."
"What?"
Gesturing at her with his chin before turning away, he repeats, "Ya ain't gotta wear that cause 'a me. I seen how ya been hidin' it under ya shirt, and ya don't have ta. Like I said, 's just a rock."
Beth just stares at him, clenching her fingers around the pendant. "You think I keep it under my shirt because I'm trying to hide it? Like I'm embarrassed or ashamed or something?"
He won't even look at her, and that alone tells her his answer.
"Daryl, it's not just a rock," she insists, grabbing at his tensed forearm and pulling at until he looks at her—or at least at where her hand is touching him. She doesn't let go, just squeezes his arm and says again, "It's not just a rock, it's beautiful. Remember, I was the one who suggested making it into a necklace in the first place. And as for why I keep it under my shirt...it's hard to explain. It's not just a plain old rock, it has meaning. With how you said the Apache believe it helps protect them, it's like it's got this whole story behind it, you know? I dunno, I kind of feel like when it's touching my skin I feel a little safer. A little braver," she admits.
Some of the tension drains out of Daryl at her explanation and he shifts from one foot to the other. "I reckon it's workin' like it's 'sposed ta, then," he allows.
Beth debates whether or not to go on, a dark blush tinting her cheeks. Now she's the one who can't quite look at him, and she clears throat before confessing, "It's not just that though. I guess I kind of have been keeping it hidden, not because I was ashamed to show it to anyone," she hastily reassures him, "but because it was from you. I guess I just wanted to keep it all to myself, because it meant a lot to me that it was from you. That's what makes it even more special. I know, it sounds stupid, but...yeah. There it is." Her hand is still resting on his arm and she pulls it away, raising it to play with the necklace again without even thinking about it. When she realizes what she's doing, she laughs and then crosses her arms, tucking her hands under her armpits where they will stay out of trouble.
He gives her that intent stare he sometimes does, the one that means he's thinking and has something important he wants to say, but can't quite figure out how to put it into words.
A voice breaks in, interrupting the mood. "Dixon, you still taking over perimeter watch?" Abraham asks as he walks around the side of the house, shouldering his assault rifle. "Hey Beth. Hope there's plenty left to eat, I'm as hungry as a horse."
Dragging her attention away from Daryl, she nods at the big red-headed man. "Plenty left, last I saw, anyway. Carl's still in there though, so I wouldn't press my luck." The boy is at that stage where he could eat so much in one sitting, it seems like he has a hollow leg or something.
"Yeah, I got it." Daryl steps off of the porch and unslings his crossbow to hold it loosely in his hands. Then he throws over his shoulder at Beth, "Leavin' at daylight. I ain't waitin' up if ya oversleep."
"Yes sir," she tosses off a cocky salute, and grins at his brief snort of amusement before she follows Abraham inside.
She had thought she would spend the day learning about tracking. Instead Daryl focuses on teaching her the basics of snares and trapping. They aren't constantly on the move the way they had been when the prison fell, they have a base camp to work their way out of, so he thinks it's just as important as showing her how to track and hunt.
He shows her how to tell the difference between a deer trail and small game runs, how and where to set the snares, explains why wire is better than string when setting a trap. It's very easy to see the advantage of snares over hunting, as snares allow them to be in several places at once, but at the same time, when they're providing food for a group the size of theirs, there is also a greater risk of overhunting which is why Daryl goes hunting so often. One average sized deer can give fifty pounds of meat easy, where it'd take twenty rabbits or more than fifty squirrels to achieve the same amount of food.
Daryl is a good teacher, though he dismisses her attempts to tell him that. He's surprisingly patient and challenges her to figure stuff out on her own. After checking and resetting the snares, they range out further and he tests what she remembers about his prior tracking lessons. The day flies by, and by the time they return that afternoon, they've caught two rabbits and four squirrels, all but one of those with snares.
She spends the next day taking care of Judith, which is just as well because the day is a cold and rainy one. The downside is she has to listen to Maggie's repeated assurances that she does not have to go on runs if she doesn't want to, and if she is bound and determined to do so, to at least wait until her arm is fully healed. She has a sneaking suspicion that if Maggie has it her way, a run with her and Glenn would involve Beth sitting in the car to keep her out of harm's way.
Beth and Daryl establish a routine over the following days, where she alternates between taking care of Judith and helping out around the Manor House, and her tracking lessons. When it had just been the two of them on their own, he'd taken the lead on almost all of the tracking, showing her what markers and signs he was looking at. It was only right before they found the funeral home that he started making her find the tracks on her own, giving gentle corrections when she made mistakes. She quickly learns that there is a marked difference between following the heavy dragging tracks of a walker and the hopping shuffle of a rabbit.
Daryl is not a talkative man by any means, but as they come across particular tracks, he shares details about the animals that she never might have known otherwise. She learns that eastern cottontail rabbits don't like deep woods because they prefer to graze in open fields and pastures, so when hunting and trapping them, it's always best to keep to the edge of the woods. When they startle an opossum that promptly falls over and plays dead, he tells her that the defensive reaction is really something they can't control, almost like fainting. She'd always thought of 'possums as nocturnal creatures, but according to Daryl as the weather gets colder, they come out more and more during the day to forage. The reason he's never brought home an armadillo when out hunting is because despite the fact that they are slow and easy to catch and kill, they're also the only animal other than humans that carry leprosy, so he considers them a 'last resort' meal.
It's hard to get excited about the 'possum they bring back on their second outing. The turkey hen she bags on their third expedition feels like a real accomplishment though, because she took the lead on the tracking for most of the hunt. The fact that the ground was wet which made the flock easy to follow didn't make the victory any less sweet.
Day four of the tracking lessons has them walking a lot further they have been, heading for a deer stand that Daryl came across when scouting a couple of weeks ago. They left a good hour before dawn, far earlier than usual and have already walked a few miles by her estimation. If they actually do manage to get a deer, they'll have to carry the carcass all the way back. She'd asked earlier why they didn't just drive one of the vehicles close to the hunt site, and Daryl pointed out that it's hard to learn anything about tracking from the comfort of a pickup truck, so walking it is.
Tomorrow, Beth is supposed to go on the run with Rick, and it's hard not to think about it as she follows Daryl through the woods. He hasn't said much today, other than to point out the occasional animal tracks that cross their path as they head further south.
"Ya nervous?" he asks, ducking his head to avoid a low hanging branch.
Knowing he's referring to going on the run, she admits, "A little, yeah. I just don't want to screw up." It's not that she's worrying about herself, but she's aware that if she makes a serious mistake, she could also put Rick's life in danger as well.
Daryl glances back at her, "Ya already proved ya can handle yerself, just watch yer back 'n keep yer eyes open."
His confidence in her bolsters her own. She smiles at the back of his head, "I will."
They walk in silence for a few more minutes and then he says, "I could come along, if ya wanted."
Touched by his offer, she can't help the surge of emotion she feels for this complicated man. When she finds her voice, she opts for teasing him, feeling anything else she says might come across as sappy. "Are you going to make sure I stay out of trouble by making me wait in the car?"
"Makin' ya wait? Hell, I'm gonna handcuff ya to the door," he tosses back over his shoulder.
Beth giggles. "Not that I don't want you coming along, but Rick already turned Glenn down when he asked if he could join us. I think he saw through Maggie's thinly veiled efforts to baby me from long distance."
"Wasn't askin' Rick, was askin' you," he says matter-of-factly.
Beth finds herself taken aback because he's managed to make it sound like her opinion matters to him more than Rick's. Shaking her head a little to dispel that unlikely notion, she responds, "Of course I want you to come along. I mean, you know, if you don't have something else you were going to do, that is."
"Nothin' that can't wait."
There's an open area through the trees ahead, and Beth can just make out the grey line of an asphalt road. She follows him out of the tree line and down the slope to stand on the road. There's a grey SUV on it's side in the shallow ditch about a hundred feet to the right, and a sedan with a crushed front end just behind it. Both vehicles have their doors thrown open, and the sedan's trunk is popped open. Two walkers are crouched over the bodies on the ground, and there's at least one more corpse in the car.
"Hey, hold up," Daryl quietly warns, bringing his crossbow up. "None of this was here before."
She doesn't ask if he's sure or if maybe they came out of the woods at a different section of road than he had before. Daryl Dixon's sense of direction is so good, it's uncanny. She draws her gun, holding it at the ready.
"Stay behind me," he orders and makes his way over to the vehicles to get a closer look, while she cautiously follows. They're a short distance away when one of the walkers catches their scent and lurches to its feet, stumbling at them. Daryl shoots it down and draws his knife, quickly closing on the second and killing it as well with a quick stab through the eye socket. After retrieving his arrow and cleaning the knife, he rearms his crossbow and presses on.
The three men on the ground have been well picked over by the walkers, but luckily there don't seem to be any more in the vicinity right now that she can see. Daryl glances at the corpses on the ground and uses his crossbow to gesture at their heads, pointing out the bullet holes in what's left of their skulls. The bodies are close together, like they were lined up before being shot. These people weren't killed in the wreck or by the dead, they were executed by the living. The driver of the sedan is slumped into the deflated airbag on the steering wheel and she can see the bloody hole in his head, too.
Beth can hear faint snarling now as Daryl leads her around the front of the capsized SUV. There's a walker still buckled in the front passenger seat, a older woman with long flyaway gray hair who is now scrabbling and clawing to get at them through the broken windshield. One of her arms flails more than the other, the shattered forearm bones poking grotesquely through the discolored skin. She has no other injuries that they can see, and is dispatched with an arrow.
The area around the wrecked vehicles is strewn with what is left of their belongings. Daryl lowers his crossbow and looks back at her, giving her the okay to holster her Glock. Together, they start to sift through what's left of the travelers' things without a lot of success. It looks like whoever killed them has already picked through and taken anything useful.
Beth does find two comic books and a graphic novel on the floorboard of the sedan. She picks those up and heads around to the back of the car to look in the trunk. A grim-faced Daryl has finished searching the SUV and is standing on the road again, examining the skid marks left by the accident.
"Found Carl some more comics," she calls, and indeed, there's a small collection of them in the trunk of the car. It's a miracle they're all dry, but whoever owned them kept them in protective covers and in a large ziplock bag on top of that. The only other thing in the trunk is loose clothing, but none of it catches her eye.
She's just started stuffing the comics into her pack when Daryl whips around, raising his crossbow to his shoulder and pointing it down the road. "Get under the car," he orders.
"What?" Beth is sure she misheard him.
"Get under th' damn car!" he hisses out of the side of his mouth and this time she doesn't question him. Snatching up her pack, she drops to the ground and pushes the satchel ahead of her as she shimmies up underneath the car, trying to keep her face out of the cold mud that's collected there from the recent rains. Then she waits, keeping as still and quiet as possible.
Now she can hear a vehicle approaching. It stops a short distance away, the low rumble of the engine seems to indicate that it's a large truck or possibly another SUV. Doors open, four of them, which tells her that there are at least four people confronting Daryl. Boot steps scuff across the pavement, accompanied by the clatter of metal that she recognizes as weapons being drawn or raised. She can't see anything from her narrow vantage point under the car. It's both terrifying and frustrating, reminding her of that dark rainy night she spent in a car trunk while growling zombies shuffled past.
"Nice crossbow," a man comments.
"Fuck off," Daryl snarls.
The same guy says placatingly, "Easy now, just making friendly conversation."
There's a pause, and Daryl demands, "Izzat what this is? A friendly conversation? Cause yer boys ain't lookin' all that friendly ta me." Beth cringes at his antagonistic tone, is he trying to provoke them? But then it occurs to her that he doesn't sound afraid or intimidated, only pissed off, and it might be enough to make these men think twice about attacking him.
"Fair enough. Put 'em down, boys," the de facto leader orders, and after a moment, that metallic rattle seems to indicate that compliance. "There, happy now? By the way, don't waste your time looking through this garbage, my men and I were pretty thorough."
Another brief silence ensues before Daryl asks, "This yer doin'?"
A couple of the men snicker and she can hear the smug tone in the leader's voice when he replies, "We may have had something to do with it, yeah. You alone?"
"I ain't exactly a people person, if'n ya hadn't noticed," is Daryl's surly reply.
"Well, maybe you just ain't found the right group of people, eh? Going it alone is pretty tough now days, and you, well, you seem like the kinda guy who'd fit right in with us. Got a really sweet benefits package for new members, too..." the man drawls out.
That elicits more raucous laughter, and a new voice says, "Hell yeah! Collected us a fine bit of poontang from the SUV there."
Another adds, "Got a nice young piece of ass from the car, too. They're still pretty feisty, too, just how I like 'em."
Beth feels bile rise in the back of her throat and swallows rapidly, trying to hold it down. She clutches at the turquoise pendant, squeezing it so tight that the rough edge digs painfully hard into her palm. Daryl has it a hundred times worse though. These strangers have taken one look at him and lumped him in with them as a murderer and a rapist. She can't imagine how horrible that must feel.
Daryl is slow to respond, and to the men around him, it probably looks like he's considering their offer. "Ima stick to goin' it alone. Don't gotta worry bout some sumbitch tryin' to stab me in the back that ways."
There's a long sigh and the leader says, "I know exactly what you're talking about, had to deal with a bit of that myself. Well, that's a damn shame, we could use a man like you. If you change your mind, we're holed up at a white farmhouse with a black door and a broken down tractor in the yard a couple miles up this road. Ain't hangin' around but for a couple of days more, though, before we head on down to Florida. We ain't doin' another cold winter, fuck that shit." Boots trod on the pavement again and then the doors slam shut. A couple of seconds later, the vehicle roars off down the road.
