Beth opened her eyes, smiling. The sun was already creeping into her eyes. The shimmer of its ascend peaked through the trees around her, but the smell of pine and the stiff ache in her ankle confused her as she sat up. She wasn't in her room. She wasn't even in her house. Sitting up, Beth realized she was in a tent. She was laying on a cozy pile of fabric. Underneath her head someone had placed a black vest. Beth remembered feeling the black leather on her cheek as Daryl had carried her back to his camp. It was his vest.
Her pulse hiking, Beth remembered it all: meeting Daryl, running from him and injuring her ankle. She forced herself to breathe slowly through her nose to avoid panicking again. She must have fainted. She could see the trees as the flap was open at the front. She could hear feet shuffling outside and her name in hushed voices.
"For goodness sake, Daryl," a feminine voice chastised, "I'm just going to check on her ankle. What am I going to do to her? Beat her with my basket?" Beth recognized the voice. It was the woman she had worried over the previous night, the one Beth had thought a victim of Daryl's gang of thieves.
"Awfully protective of the girl, baby brother." Another voice spoke, but it was muffled from the owner's effort to stifle his laughter. "Sure she's nothing?"
"Quiet, Merle," the woman said, sternly. "Leave Daryl be."
"Listen to your wife, Merle." Beth definitely recognized that voice.
"She's not my wife," Merle said, his voice suddenly harsh. "She won't marry me, remember?"
"Why would she want to?" Beth heard Daryl mutter.
"Watch yourself, baby brother…"
"Shut up and sit down." Daryl snarled back, even without seeing him Beth could hear the itch for violence in his voice.
"Men…" Carol's muttered, inches from the tent.
Beth laid back down quickly when the flap rustled. Carol was indeed checking on her. She wasn't certain whether she wanted to be seen or talked to by anyone.
"I know you're awake, Beth." Carol's said, her voice by her feet. The woman spoke quietly, as if she only wanted Beth to hear. "No one's going to hurt you here. I honestly did just want to check on your ankle."
Beth didn't understand why she trusted the woman, but she opened her eyes and slowly sat up. Carol greeted her with a small smile. Lowering herself until she was kneeling beside Beth, she gingerly placed Beth's ankle in her hands. Beth winced when Carol tightened her grip.
"I'm sorry. I just wanted to check the swelling." Carol said, holding her hands up quickly. The woman visibly stiffened when she saw the pain etched on Beth's face. Suddenly, the woman shrank away away, visibly shaken. "Maybe I shouldn't be the one doing this." Carol said, rising.
"Wait. I'd rather you do it, please. Don't leave me in their hands." Beth said, praying on the woman's seemingly kind nature to keep her in the tent. She meant what she said. She didn't want any of those men tending to her, including Daryl. No one had bothered her throughout the night, but she still had reservations about the male members of this troupe. Rather that made her judgmental or intelligent she couldn't decipher anymore.
Carol seemed to understand the meaning in Beth's words and her brow creased. "Those men out there would never lay their hands on you. They have honor, Beth. Besides, Daryl would burn anyone alive if they so much as looked at you wrong." Carol's tone reminded Beth of the many lectures her father had given her while disciplining her through the years. Beth fought the instinct to lower her head in shame. She was an adult now and didn't need a lashing from anyone, even this woman who had helped her. And her comment about Daryl protecting her seemed to have more meaning than the sentence would normally suggest; it made her uncomfortable.
"I know nothing about those men other than one of them dragged me into this camp last night. What other conclusions am I supposed to reach?" Beth said, straightening up.
"I can understand your fear since you don't know them, especially of Daryl. He isn't the most calming man." Carol said, sitting back down at Beth's feet.
"I'm not afraid of him," Beth said, rolling her eyes at the absurdity of Carol's comment. Carol only smiled, as if she knew something Beth didn't.
"Well, let's take another look at your war wound here, then," Carol said, still smiling.
Before long and a few trips back outside, Carol had managed to form a makeshift tourniquet on Beth's ankle. The woman worked quietly and quickly. She seemed comfortable with the silence between them. It was so very different than Beth's usual experiences with women. The women she knew, except for perhaps Maggie, were always chatting away mindlessly. They looked at quiet to be offensive, as if they were going to be ignored if their lips were not constantly moving. In truth, they were ignored either way, for the most part.
Very few men around her had ever seemed to apprise her as an equal participant in conversation. It was much the 'seen not spoken to' rule where women were concerned in Beth's world. Of course there were exceptions to every rule, like her father and Glenn, Maggie's husband. He was a foreign diplomat that loved where he was visiting so much, he had decided to make it his home. He had always asked for Beth's opinion on any matter brought up at dinners; at times, it felt to Beth like he was trying to get her to speak more, as if he didn't want the habit of standing up for herself and beliefs to die away. They both seemed to know instinctively that when she married it was a distinct possibility.
Beth had avoided marriage though by running away. She felt somewhat cowardly for it. She could have stayed and refused to marry Walsh, but she hadn't wanted to fight. Running seemed a much easier option at the time. Perhaps, she could live out on her own though without a husband. Carol seemed to do well with such living. She had Merle, but that seemed to be her own choice. The woman still seemed out-of-place with the group of men and Beth couldn't help but wonder how she had come to be with them. How did the group even come to be at all?
"If you want to ask me something, Beth, just ask." Carol said, looking up at her as she finished wrapping her ankle tightly in white cloth. The woman had keen senses, Beth gave her that.
"How did you meet them?" Beth asked, somehow sure Carol would understand who she was talking about.
Carol looked down for a moment. She seemed to be debating with herself. "They weren't always a 'them.' Originally, it was just Merle and Daryl until I came along." Beth pretended not to notice that Carol hadn't answered her question. "Those men out there are hard men, Beth. The lives Merle and Daryl have been forced to live…" She paused-still debating, Beth assumed-"it wasn't easy. Even with the hard lives they've lived, I wasn't lying to you when I told you they have honor, which is why this group exists. All of them grew up with nothing and when those who had everything decided they needed more, they were left with even less." Carol shook her head at the injustice of it all. "To make a rather long tale short, they do what they do to protect those who can't protect themselves."
"When Daryl found me, he thought I was a noble person." Beth said, "I'm not." She added, hastily. "When he thought I was though, he looked at me with so much hatred."
"I'm sure he did." Carol said, standing up and helping Beth to her feet. Beth took a minute to balance herself on her good foot before looking up at the woman for a proper answer. "You are as stubborn as he is," Carol whispered, laughing. "Daryl and Merle have a very personal knowledge of how awful a noble person can be." Carol continued, keeping her voice low. "Their mother was a common person, but she worked as a nursemaid for a high society couple. Well, the lady of the manor died shortly after giving birth to a son. Recently widowed herself, their mother fed the baby and stayed on. Merle was around nine at the time. Before long, an affair began between her and the lord, which produced Daryl."
"Daryl is a noble?!" Beth exclaimed. Carol shushed her quickly, peeking her head out of the tent flap. Beth allowed herself a small glance as well. The men were all gathered around the campfire, too busy in their own conversations to notice the two women.
"He was the man's blood, but it didn't save him from the man's cruelty. Merle neither." Carol whispered. "It got worse after their mother died. The boys were never good enough-proper enough-for him. As soon as they were old enough, they ran away and have lived common ever since."
"I would have never known." Beth said, as Carol helped her limp out of the tent. She felt eyes on her from where all of the men sat at the fire and knew who they belonged to. Beth was certain when she glanced that way that the scars Daryl Dixon harbored were more than skin deep.
"Our fearless leader here saved the day." Merle said, proudly slapping his brother on the back. The men had already been in conversation when the two women sat down at the fire. It seemed centered on a time when Daryl had saved Merle from a sticky situation in which the older Dixon had made a fool out of himself in a drunken state and been tied to a pole and left. "I trained you good." Merle continued, patting his younger brother on the back. Daryl and Beth both rolled their eyes simultaneously. For Beth's part, she was certain the last thing Daryl Dixon needed was more praise for his ego to soak up. Her annoyance wasn't missed.
"Got something to say, princess?" Daryl asked her, his eyebrows arched up, daring her to argue without saying a word. Beth just glared at him. She had been in the man's camp for under a week now and he had barely spoken ten words to her, ecept to chastise her apparent weaknesses. Even though she was loath to admit it out loud, the fact that Daryl still treated her with icy annoyance hurt her. She didn't know why she expected anything less. It wasn't like he had made any attempt to know her personally; how would he know that he was so wrong in his assumptions? The whole situation with the man confused her, which led to an overwhelming feeling of frustration. "Didn't think so." Daryl continued, smirking in his victory.
Beth saw Merle glance between the two of them. Her glare was as fiery as ever and Daryl didn't shrink away from it. "Better be careful, little brother." The older brother teased. "If looks could kill…well, you'd be a dead man, already."
"Doubt it." Daryl replied, casually. "She'd have to actually get dirty to kill me and those delicate hands couldn't muster the strength if she tried. She's just a temporary burden, a heavy one, at that."
Beth didn't even flinch and her reply was quick and cutting. "If my load is so heavy for you, I wonder how you manage to carry that large head of yours around. Some leader...can't even carry a woman properly. No wonder you're wifeless." Beth scoffed.
Merle coughed abruptly on a half eaten biscuit, failing to hide his laughter and surprise at Beth's quick comeback. He needn't have worried though because Daryl hadn't so much as flinched towards his brother. His eyes remained on her, not in barb or jest, but in what Beth suddenly realized was admiration. The intensity of her discovery was so compelling that she was the first to look away. At her sign of weakness, Daryl laughed, rose and walked away from the campfire, but not before knocking his brother in the head lightly with his tin drinking can.
Even in Beth's small amount of experience she knew Daryl was a proud man. It didn't take intelligence to see that the man truly enjoyed what he did, stealing to give those less fortunate what they needed. The gratitude and devotion he received was a source of pride for Daryl. She had insulted that pride with her jab and she realized she did feel a hint of remorse for her words. She had made it clear to the entire camp that even though Daryl had, in a way, protected her, she didn't look at him as her hero. The truth was he had been there for her, but the mean way he was treating her just wasn't fair. He had brought her callous attitude on himself, she was certain of it. Certain.