So I'm starting to realize that this story, for the most part, is gonna be based around Beth & Daryl's interactions. I love action and gore, yes, but it's not really my niche and I know I'll probably crash and burn if I take this story in that direction. I wanted to create some where they're safe enough that it forces them to really face what they're feeling, you know what I mean?
Daryl
After a week things start to smooth out, most of that stemming from the fact that people aren't falling all over themselves just to get a word in with Beth anymore. Bout damn time. All the fuss of the first few days had her skirting around here like a gazelle in a lion's den. I was sure I'd wake up one morning and she'd be gone.
Since that night in my room, when she'd fallen asleep in my arms, we haven't had much interaction. I'm not avoiding her. Not exactly. Just observing from a safe distance. But I'm starting to feel like a real sick bastard now that I've got her entire routine memorized.
Well before dawn, she wakes up and goes out to the wall to spear piled up walkers. Once the sun rises, she has breakfast in the dining room, usually with Lemon and her college boy boyfriend. Sometimes she sits with Eugene. She eats an apple—always just an apple—and it drives me fucking insane. Not my place to be concerned, but that doesn't curb the desire to cook her a damn egg or a piece of toast every time I see her.
She floats around from place to place during the day. Spends time out at the greenhouses with Tyreese, or in the library with Carol for story time. Out on the wall where it's mostly transplants. Inside with Maggie. At the stables with Rick and Carl, or in the watch tower with Sasha. She helps everyone out, and in a lot of ways she seems like the same Beth Greene I remember so well.
But then I'll catch some fleeting moment that makes my heart feel like it's been lanced in my chest. Moments when I can practically see some bad memory tangling itself up in her head. And just like that all, the sunshine that makes Beth so sweet is gone, and she has the saddest fucking eyes I've ever seen. It's then that my fingers itch. That's when I want to reach for her.
It's my own uncertainty that holds me back, so I wait instead. That's all you can do with someone as perfect as her. Wait and let her come to you. And I hope that she does.
Beth
I have to get out here.
The walls. The people. The never-ending noise.
It's all slowly chipping away at the final tiny sliver of composure I've somehow managed to wrap myself in. I feel like I'm losing it. More than anything else, I want to get lost in the trees for the day. In the mud, and the muck, and the peaceful calm of being on my own. That's not gonna happen though. Every single attempt to sneak out has been breached by someone. A chaperone is the last way I want to spend my day. But I am getting desperate, and at this point I'll take anything.
Lemon's boyfriend, Adam, is out on the wall killing walkers, so I knew she'd be alone. And bored. But now that she's looking at me like I might have a few screws loose, I'm starting to think this was a bad idea. "You want to leave?"
"Yeah," I say with a casual shrug. "Go on a run or something."
She stands up and dusts her jeans off, looking mildly curious. "For what?"
I know what Lemon loves. And I know there's a huge shopping mall in McLean that the group cleared out months ago. "Clothes." It's not a complete lie. I hate borrowing from her, and I could use a few things of my own. "I wanna get something for the baby too." Dr. S says Maggie should be delivering in three to four weeks, and I want to give my first ever niece, or nephew, something special when they make it into this world. Even if it is just some stupid stuffed animal they'll forget about.
Her eyes light up, and I bounce on my heels, anticipating her cave in. But after a moment, the excitement fades away and she frowns. "I can't."
I reach out and clutch her hand. "Come on! It'll be fun. It'll be like a girls day! Maybe with a few walkers, but we can handle it. You know we can."
For a split-second, her worry falls away and I can the eagerness, but then she gets all serious again. "Daryl would shit his pants if he knew I took you out." She glances around like saying his name could summon the devil himself. "Like he'll probably rip my ovaries out and eat them."
I roll my eyes. "Daryl won't find out." Who does he think he is anyway? He's been avoiding me. "If he does, I'll take care of it."
She still looks skeptical, so I give her hand a squeeze. It has to be Lemon. She's the only person here that I feel genuine with. I can be myself around her, and it doesn't feel like a lie. "Lemon, please."
"Okay," she finally says, the wild gleam coming back to her eyes. "Let's do it."
It's nearing dusk when we pull back through the gate. I drape my arm out the window as we roll toward the building. It was a successful day. I don't feel so suffocated, and we actually managed to bring back a pretty decent haul; clothes—probably too many—a few bottles of nail polish, some fancy body wash and shampoo, a cute stuffed elephant for the baby, a case of wine for tonight, and a bottle of tequila. Not exactly necessities, but things that make me feel human.
Glenn's been on a supply run spanning several states for over a week now, but the group made it back early this morning and tonight the camp is celebrating. For the first time in awhile, I feel . . . excited. It's something I thought I'd lost when the prison fell—being giddy about something. And yet here I am, enjoying the fresh air and not minding the walls so much.
The feeling is short lived, because the moment Lemon comes to a stop at the entrance of the building, Daryl comes storming down the steps. And he looks mad as hell.
Lemon's eyes go wide. "Dude, I told you. He's gonna kill me."
I flick my wrist through the air and reach for the door handle. "I'll handle him."
"Where the hell have you been?" Daryl demands the second my feet touch ground. Blades of grass and crushed leaves are tangled up in his disheveled hair, and his boots are covered in mud. There's a smudge of dirt above one of his eyebrows, and his biceps are shiny with sweat. He's probably been out hunting all day. He looks delicious—gruff and gorgeous in all the ways that make smart girls do stupid things. When he runs a palm over his scruffy jaw, I will myself to look away.
"Out."
He glares at me, and for a moment I waiver. "We went on a quick run," I elaborate. "It wasn't a big deal."
He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes and makes a frustrated noise in his throat. "You ain't in no kinda condition to be goin' outside the walls."
"I'm not some wounded bird, Daryl."
His eyes are all flinty as they drop down to my wrist. "Bullshit you're not."
I follow his gaze to my injured hand and roll my eyes. I'd talked my way out of a plastered cast and into a splint/ace bandage combo, so I don't know why Daryl is staring like the limb has just been freshly amputated. "This is nothing," I say, holding my hand in the air. "Doesn't slow me down one bit. Besides, it's not like I haven't dealt with worse."
My response looks like it causes him physical pain, and for a moment the hard look in his eyes lets up. It's replaced by something more vulnerable, but before I can even begin to decipher it, they're icing back over. "Goin' out alone like that was stupid."
"I wasn't alone," I point out. "I was with Lemon."
He snorts. "Alotta help she is."
Lemon is smart. She has a different way of surviving, but that doesn't make her weak. I feel my brows pull down and in. "What's your problem?"
"You," he snaps. "Actin' like an idiot. That's my problem!"
I take an angry step toward him, closing the distance between us so I can get right in his face. I'm about to let him know just how pissed off I am when my eyes lock onto his and all the tiny facets of blue and silver suck me right in. My gaze drops to his mouth on its own accord, and a thrill shoots right through my middle. It'd be easy to take him by the lapels and pull him to me. Easy to drink in his woodsy scent and see if he tastes like smoke. But you don't just kiss a man like Daryl Dixon. Not unless you're ready to deal with a whole lot of angry heat. So I curl my fingers into my palms and will them to stay at my sides instead.
Lemon's voice snaps me out of my stupor. "Are y'all about to fight? Or make out? Because I can't really tell, but I sort of want to see both."
I divert my eyes and take a quick step back as heat rises up my neck and spreads to my cheeks. Lemon is a few feet away, staring at us like a cat in the cream. Daryl makes a noise deep in his throat, practically a growl, before turning on his heel and stalking back into the building.
I swallow back the urge to follow him. Daryl's like a junk-yard-dog. Mean. Ready to attack the second anyone gets too close. Gotta let him come to me. And I pray that he does.
Daryl
Everyone congregates around a large fire out on the back lawn later that night. Glenn's group made it back without incident, and after a long run, that's plenty reason to celebrate. This place has gotten so big, it's hard to do anything as a group, and even with most everyone in the same place, people tend to splinter off into their own little crowds. Fine by me though. Easier to avoid conversation that way.
I'm listening to Rick and Carol drone on and on about the plans to extend the stables when I glance up and my eyes lock on Beth's. She's sitting on the other side of the fire with Lemon and Adam, and after a long moment, she smiles.
I just stare, because the way she looks right now, shadows from the flames flickering across her face, has me frozen in place. Then, in what feels like slow motion, she crooks her finger and beckons me. I check over my shoulder to see if someone else is there, but the space is empty. She has her brows raised like I'm an idiot when my head snaps back around. Which, for the record, I am. An idiot. I'm an asshole too for flying off the handle the way I did when I realized she was gone.
Rick slaps my shoulder, and I regretfully tear my gaze from hers. He's looking at me expectantly, and I realize I have no idea what he just said. "Huh?"
He laughs and shakes his head. "I said, go."
I scowl. "Go where?"
Rick nudges his chin in Beth's direction. It's great that he's giving me an excuse to dip out, but at the same time the thought of going over there, with her and that damn perfect smile, scares the shit out of me. "I'm good here."
He gives me a serious look. "I know you're not that stupid."
I open my mouth to fire off a response, when I feel Carol's bony elbow jab me in the ribs. "You heard the man, Pookie. Go on." Her smile is gentle.
I feel like an awkward teenage boy at a school dance, and that ain't never been my kind of scene. I get to my feet though, because lord knows I'd be a fool not to go to her. She pats the grass beside her as I approach, and even though there's still a tiny flicker of fear telling me to run the fuck away, I take a seat. Not next to her. But near her.
The corner of her mouth tilts up. "Hi."
"Hi." Real conversationalist I am.
"I have a peace offering for you." Her voice has the slightest lazy slur to it, and it's cute as hell. Like most everyone else, she's probably got a good buzz going from the wine they brought back.
"That right?" Rick and Carol are both staring at me like I just loaded up on the school bus for the first time. I ball my hands into fists and chase away the urge to flip them off.
"Yeah," she says. Then she scoots right up next to me. Our thighs are touching, and I'm acutely aware of how warm her leg feels even through the two layers of clothing. The warmth spreads up my leg and into my stomach, kicking my pulse up.
"So . . . truce?" She's holding a bottle of wine out to me.
My brows pull down. "You expect me to drink that?"
She nods, a mischievous smile on her lips, as she brings the bottle to her lips to drink. My gaze drops to her mouth and sticks. Mostly because her tongue is making a slow trail across her bottom lip to collect the tiny drop of wine there, but also just because damn. She's got a nice mouth.
When she holds the bottle out to me a second time, I'm shaking my head, ready to refuse, but who the hell am I kidding? She just had her lips pressed up to the rim of that bottle.
I take it from her and turn it up, taking two big gulps. It's sweet and a little earthy. Merle's voice is in the back of my head, calling me a pussy, but the sweet little smile Beth gives me after makes it more than worth it.
"We good?" I ask. I know she deserves a proper apology, and I'm a bastard for not giving her one, but I'm no good when it comes that sort of thing. Words tend to fail me. That's usually how I find myself in a deeper hole. Any other time I wouldn't give two fucks about making things right. But this is Beth, and with her it matters.
She takes the bottle back from me and taps a finger against it. "Once we finish this, maybe."
"Maybe?"
She takes another sip. "Mhm."
I'll take a maybe.
We drink in silence for the next few minutes. I like that. That we can both sit without speaking and things don't start to feel heavy. Words are important, yeah. But so is silence, and it needs to be respected. Most people search for ways to fill it up. Not Beth. She knows quiet doesn't mean empty.
I lean back onto my elbows and study her. She's deep in thought, but there's a small smile on her face, so whatever it is, it's happy. Her hair is messy. Half pulled back, half framing her face. Her t-shirt rides up a bit when she shifts from to the side, and I catch a glimpse of the smooth skin just above her jeans. I'll probably have dreams about it.
I'm still staring when she turns around, and I know I should look away. Social conventions demand it. But the smile on her face is so damn sad, I can't. It cuts right through me, clean to my roots, to the place I don't let anyone see because it's still too raw and fucked up.
"This is the first time I've had anything to drink since the shine shack." Her voice is a whisper. Barely even there. But I hear every word. And I get it. The sadness. The pain. All the wasted time, I feel it too.
Her hand is in the grass between us. I sit up and slide my hand over it, brushing my thumb along her wrist as I go. She flips her palm up and our fingers intertwine. It's not much, but it's something. She doesn't say anything else. Just leans into me and rests her head on my shoulder.
Sorry this chapter is a little short, you guys. I'm gonna pick up right where this ends, so maybe some drunken shenanigans to come, but there will certainly be some opening up between the two of them. I didn't do any writing ahead on this story, because I wasn't sure if I'd get any sort of response from it, soooooo updates will probably be every 3-4 days? I'm trying to clean it up, so it's not such a rough cut by the time it gets to you, but at the same time I hate to keep you waiting. On that note, I love you all.
