Chapter Three: Daryl Dixon's First Bath
Beth POV
I wake to Daryl shaking my shoulders. "Wake up!" I shoot up and rub my eyes. "Sleeping like that will get you killed" Daryl scolds. I look around hazily, trying to clear the sleep from my mind. I'm too tired to apologize to Daryl for sleeping deeply or even wonder why I'm inside instead of asleep next to Daryl in the field.
"Get ready, we're leavin' at first light." Daryl orders. He turns which reveals his winged vest as he stalks out of the doorway.
I actually don't mind early mornings, growing up at the farm you wake when the rooster does. You've got to milk the cows and feed the animals. No sleeping in. I don't love early mornings but I grew accustomed to them, I climb out of the casket, almost falling on the floor. I get into my grimy, filthy clothes grudgingly.
Daryl enters. "Sit." He orders. I wait for a reason but none comes. "Ya' want me to bandage ya' ankle or not?" I do as he orders and slip off my boots and stinky socks. My feet are riddled with blisters and sores.
I want to apologize for the lovely aroma of my feet, but I doubt Daryl even notices. He wraps the bandages in a supporting way which leaves my foot able to move and bear weight with-out too much strain. His strong sure hands brush my feet in soft motions. I watch his expression as he works. It's stone hard and firm, his faraway mountain eyes stern and deep. He secures the bandage and stands up. "Let's go quickly, it's gonna be hot." He says without emotion. It's crazy, sometimes he's enriched with feeling and not afraid to let them shine through but sometimes he is a stone wall, impenetrable but yet frightened like a bat to the light. Someday I'll figure out the puzzle of Daryl Dixon.
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Daryl and I tread silently through the woods. I try to mimic his stance and footsteps. I need to be quiet; I am not ruining this run. The light filters through the remaining leaves on the trees. The forest floor is layered in fallen leaves. They crinkle and crumble as we tread on their weak supports. The humidity in the air almost suffocates me. It's not even noon. The heat's deep oppression leaves me sweaty and tired. I wipe my brow and flip my hair to get it off my neck. My tangles are heavy with sweat and stick to my face. I wish I had a brush. "It's sooooooo hot." I complain. "I'm burning up."
"Shut your mouth." Daryl murmurs.
I humph in annoyance.
"Just watch my six" He orders.
"Fine" I snap.
He turns to scowl at me. "Quiet!"
I trudge through the woods loudly. I feel bad walking along side Daryl. He is like a ghost weaving through the leaves with-out sound, his ears alert and his crossbow ready. All I do is carry the bags. I glance to the sides watching for movement. Walker movement, but mostly dog movement. Deep in the woods anything could hide in its thickets and brush. What if someone else was wandering through the woods just like us? What if someone was still alive and close by? "Do you think we are the only ones left?" I whisper, surprised I let that slip. Daryl flashes me his steel-blue eyes. "Bound ta" He answers without hesitation.
"What do ya' mean?"
"Our people are strong"
I ponder that for a while. We are not the only ones left. I made it out and I'm barely warrior material.
I smile at that. Daryl glances at me. "What are ya' smiling bout?" He asks gruffly.
"Just grateful I guess." I say a little too cheery.
He eyes me warily. "Don't let them smiles get too high." I laugh.
"Because we already have too many." I tease.
He scowls at me. "Can't concen-" I gasp, successfully interrupting him. He swivels around to behold the glorious sight: A River. The light dances on the surface, sending twinkles to invade my eyes. Fish lazily swim under the sparkling surface. Stones of all sizes litter the bottom, smooth and round. The silky water flows around in gorgeous currents, inviting me to its depths. I have a sudden excitement to dip my feet in the freezing water.
"Daryl can I swim?" I ask like an excited kid nagging his mom. He nods but that same excitement hides in his eyes.
"I'm gonna catch some fish, you get washed up." I slip the heavy bags off my shoulders and my boots off my feet. I slip off my socks in a hurry.
"Can my bandages handle water?"
"For now." Daryl murmurs.
I shrug off my yellow-now reddish brownish-shirt off, now I wear my off white tank-top. The trees give us dappled shade, framing the glorious river. I arrange my stuff so I can run and escape without delay. I run and jump into the icy water. I plunge under, the water folding over me. I feel weightless and free. The sheets of cold fresh water run between my arms and legs slowly pulling me down stream. I open my eyes, soft light filtering down. It's perfect. I burst up laughing. "Daryl this is amazing!" I shout. I splash into the air, the round spheres sparkle and glow in the sun, they tumble down to splash down on my grinning face.
He scowls at me. "You're gonna drive every walker in all of damn Georgia!" I blush.
"Sorry Mr. Dixon."
Daryl removes his boots, socks and vest. His muscled arms glint in the sunlight, they are quite the sight. I look down into the cool water blushing. He slides in the creek with a splash. Daryl wades to the eddies of the river. As he passes me he lightly splashes me. I gasp as the freezing cold water coats my face. I quickly retaliate. Now water slides down his face. He grabs my waist and slings me over his shoulder.
"Daryl! Daryl! Daryl!" I shriek as he throws me off his shoulder. I tumble into the water. Luckily, I grabbed his neck just in time. He falls down into the water alongside me. I feel his thickly muscled arms wrap around my waist warming me even though the freezing water encompasses us. I feel him pull us up. At that moment I realize how his toned arms hold me close. At that moment I realize my legs wrapped around his hips. At that moment I realize his heartbeat, beating rapidly through his shirt. At that moment I realize my arms around his neck. The coldness is forgotten, the apocalypse forgotten. The only thing I know is that I am in Daryl's arms. He seems to know this too by the way he gazes at me. I want to kiss him; badly. We stay like that. Our eyes locked, our breaths mingling. I can smell his distinct musk; I can feel his trembling hand on my waist. I want to feel it on my cheek. I want to close my eyes and enjoy, I know to savor what I know I will never have the pleasure of feeling again. But instead I waste it with by being frozen and awkward. I finally crack a smile. We both laugh over the water fight. "The hell!" He exclaims.
"You started it!" I giggle. He laughs with me. All the tension lost in our smiles. And then suddenly he pushes me under. As I rise spluttering he is clenching his fist. Huh? What did I do? I quickly run through the last few moments but I still can't find I source for his anger. He lets out a heavy sigh and he turns towards the bank of the river. I quickly delay him.
"Aren't you going to get cleaned up?" I asks timidly.
Daryl stops but he doesn't turn.
"We hardly ever get the chance so…" I trail off awkwardly.
He turns grimly "You go on ahead"
I groan dramatically. "You expect me to live with when you smell like that!?"
"I smell fine" He retorts.
I just grin back mischievously.
He finally smiles back.
"Fine"
He walks up to me slowly. I feel nervous as he approaches. I just watch him slowly as he sloshes through the water. His greased head whips to the side. I quickly do the same, the trees move slightly. It seems so slight that before the fall of society I would have never had even known. But now I have trained myself to notice the little movements that could mean death…or just a breeze. That why the small movements are the worst. I finally stop looking for movement but I can't help but notice Daryl's. He lazily rinses his widely muscled shoulders as red hot blush rises up my face. I quickly dowse them in a cool sheet of fresh cold water. I run my fingers through my hair and through the tangled locks. My fingers catch on all the leaves and sticks enthralled in the mess. I gradually make progress with the mop I call my hair. All thought is absent from my mind except cleaning. "Ahem" Daryl interrupts. I jerk my hands out of my hair despite the pain that surges afterwards.
"Yeah?" I answer.
"Done yet?" He asks with a hint of sarcasm. I have learned how to notice it.
"I just started" He groans and trudges through the thick sentiment of the river bottom. I franticly scrub my arms and legs. Daryl seems to not want to dislodge the grime from his body, because he just rinses. I frown.
"Daryl?" He turns around in questioning.
"Why aren't you getting clean?" I ask.
"I am" he retorts.
"No you're not, you're just rinsing, you need to scrub" I correct.
He snorts.
"It's like you haven't taken a Bath before." I challenge.
"I have"
"Hmmh, Daryl Dixon's first Bath" I remark.
"I've bathed before" He defends.
I smile. "I don't think so" I tease. "If you did then you'd be clean right now."
"I am clean." He rasps.
"By Lucky's standards" I say referring to the dog we found and named.
"Lucky doesn't care how the hell I smell" Daryl says proudly.
"I'm not Lucky" I point out.
"Smart ass" He mutters.
"Excuse me?" I challenge with my hands on my hips. "What's that you say"
"I said yes ma-am" He corrects.
"Better have"
He chuckles and I join in. Then a flash of mischief crosses his features. "Oh no" I murmur before he completes his plan.
He charges forward."I'll show you clean!" Daryl growls through my giggles as he tickles me. I try to run but I am quickly thwarted by his hands. "Daryl! AAh!" I giggle. He makes a sound I never would have imagined would come from him-he giggles. I treasure the deep vibration in my memory. We splash everywhere wildly, he chases me through the waves and we just enjoy each other's company. At that moment I realize how happy I am. I haven't been so happy since the prison. And even then it was different. It wasn't wild and free, it was constrained and controlled. As Daryl and I slowly walk down the river I make a remark.
"We've got to be the funnest group." I joke.
"Yeah, guess so." He say while leading us to the gentle parts of the river.
"Time to catch some dinner." Daryl announces .
"It's cold" I say shivering.
"Just a minute ago you were complaining bout' the heat and now you're whining about the cold."
"Am not!" I say childishly.
I've never been able to talk to Daryl like this. I don't think anyone has.
I follow him over to the edges of the river. Fish dart around us. He stops and I plant myself behind him.
"Ya' have to strike fast" I watch as he stands silently but as soon as a fish wanders near the snatches it like a rattle snake.
"Your turn." He silently challenges. I gulp, silently waiting. A fish wanders close into my range. I lunge into the water to grab it. I just end up splashing everywhere and all the fish scatter. I rise up embarrassed. Daryl smirks at me.
"How bout' you collect some water crest?"
"But I'm the bestest fish catcher!" I say, faking seriousness.
"Oh are ya' now?" He teases.
"Sure am" I say with my hands on my hips. The water rushes around my legs and waist freezing me. I shiver.
"Learned from the best." I say proudly. "And who's sat?" "My brother Shawn." His face falls. Did I just say that?! Idiot! "Sure looks like it." He mumbles at a failed attempt at sarcasm.
"Hey! I learned with nets and poles. Not my bare hands." An echo of a smile lights his face. Oh good I improved his mood.
"Never noodled before? " He taunts.
"Nope. Unless catching craw-daddies counts."
Before he can respond a decaying hand encases my ankle. I manage to shriek before I plunge under. Fear grips my mind. I thrash and fight to keeps its dripping jaws from me. We burst up just long enough for me to get a gasps of breathe before being plunged under. I manage to get a good grip on its fleshy neck. Water flies into the air with our thrashes. I feel hard hands yank me free from the creature. I gasp in all the air I can get without a second thought. I stumble into the river bank. My knees weaken and I slump into the soft mud with a wet root in my grasp. The walker's growls finally come to a final stop. I hear the splash and grunt of Daryl slopping over to me. He rushes forward about to support me.
"I-I'm fine" I stutter. "No bites."
I close my eyes and breathe. I'm fine. Daryl's face holds pure undiluted concern. "I'm fine"
He nods and looks down as if he's holding himself back. I look to his hands, he clutches his knife so hard his hand is white.
"You sure your fine?" He murmurs. I want to ask the same to him. I nod, Daryl gives me one last glance but I just act like it didn't happen and lumber back to my bags.
My ankle throbs with every step. I lean over to try to divert the weight but it still burns. The cold water helps though.
I feel Daryl boring holes in my back as I limp away.
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I watch Beth's retreating figure as she stumbles through the woods. I make sure there are no walkers anywhere near her. This is what happens when you let your guard down. People get hurt. People die.
I let out a heavy breathe. I check the treeline one last time and set off. I reach for my crossbow and start keeping watch. When I catch up with Beth I signal for her to sit on one of the large boulders that scatter everywhere. She gazes at me for a second and then she obliges. I check her ankle silently not wanting to give in. Beth stares at the top of my greasy head as I re-bandage her petite ankle. As soon as I'm done I quickly get up and gather our bags. I toss Beth hers and we slowly walk out of the coverage of the forest. I build up my walls brick by brick in my mind. I am not letting her be my weakness. I can't slack like that again. Its bullshit and stupid.
I huff in the late summer heat. Beth does too. I don't let myself register anything more about her before I block those thoughts out. We finally reach the highway. The autumn leaves lay scattered on the road like dead bodies. I hope the asphalt helps Beth's ankle. We walk silently; I don't even look to see her expression. I'll just watch for walkers. At least I'm good at that.
"Daryl?" Beth asks. "What ya want girl?" I snap. I feel her recoil ever so slightly. "Nothing" she mumbles. I feel the brisk of regret but I block it out. I failed; I'm not letting it happen again.
*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;*;* The characters and the Walking Dead universe belongs to Robert Kirkman. All mistakes I made interrupting them are entirely my own.
