I don't own The Walking Dead or it's characters. I just make them do things that the writers won't :)
Beth took a deep breath, her stomach turning at the idea of what she was about to do. Her eyes were surveying the woods from the front porch of the funeral home, her brow furrowed in concentration as she searched for any sign of walkers. Her arm was aching from the weight of the crossbow, her finger twitched on the trigger at the slightest movement. Besides her feet lay a backpack filled with knives and the rest of their ammunition. Her wary ears caught the sound of a lone magpie warbling in the distance.
She let out a sigh of relief as she lowered the crossbow, her free hand reaching up to rub at the fatigued muscles of her bicep.
"Anything out there?" Daryl appeared behind her, closing the door quietly.
"Nope. It's just us for now," she replied. Daryl had to hold back a snort of laughter at the sight of little Beth holding his crossbow. It seemed to be as big as her. He knew for a fact that she couldn't have been much heavier.
"That's good, means we've got time," he glanced up at the sunrise and the way in which the sky was softly illuminated in the earliest rays of light.
"It's peaceful, isn't it," Beth sighed, a sad smile curling the edge of her lips. Daryl grunted in agreement.
"Sometimes I look up at the sky and I forget about all the bad things that are happening under it." Beth blinked, hoping to disperse the tears that had formed at memories that felt ancient and otherworldly, of her and Maggie laying on their backs at sunset in the long grass holding hands and making funny shapes out of the clouds.
Daryl glanced at her and saw her eyes glistening as she continued to look heavenward.
"It's the only beautiful thing left in the world," she whispered.
Daryl stepped towards her, pulling her into his warm embrace and feeling the wetness of her tears soak through his shirt.
"Except for you, Beth," he kissed the top of her head tenderly. He heard her muffled laughter as she pulled away from his embrace.
"I don't want to cry," she sniffed, wiping at her eyes and stamping an artificial smile on her face.
"What I really want is new clothes," she added, looking down at her figure.
Although Beth had become accustomed to living on rations for the last four years, she had finally reached her breaking point. It didn't help matters that every time she found a new item of clothing in a run, Daryl would quickly rip it off her body during a lust-fuelled make-out session within a few hours of putting it on.
"Well what a coincidence. Hopefully we can find more than tinned peaches and beans. I'm pretty sure we passed some kind of shopping mall on the way up here. There's at least three convenience stores and a department store on the complex, so there must be some stuff left to take," Daryl relieved Beth of his crossbow and reached into the backpack to hand her a knife.
"I wanna be back by noon," he glanced up at the rising sun.
"Well let's go then!" Beth set off ahead of him, her pace steady on her newly healed ankle.
"Don't leave my sight, you hear me?" Daryl called after her. His commands were simply ignored as she turned back to roll her eyes dramatically at him.
Together, they set off into the woods. They were lucky enough to only encounter a few straggling walkers who were either too decomposed or too incapacitated to prove much of a threat. Beth still look pleasure in ramming her blade into their skulls as she passed by. Daryl was quite impressed by her newfound skills in killing walkers.
"Oh my God, it's massive!" he heard her gasp as they reached the edge of the forest. Peeking through the trees with his crossbow at the ready, he saw the shopping complex come into view. It appeared in surprisingly good condition, and was devoid of all life; both human, and walker.
They approached cautiously, weapons drawn. There were chains on the doors, obviously it had been used as a shelter at the beginning of the outbreak but had since been abandoned. Beth made her way around to a service entry and found an unlocked door.
As usual, Daryl went first down the unlit corridor until he found the exit door at the end which opened into the middle of a convenience store. His arm shot out automatically as Beth came up behind him. He let out a piercing whistle, slamming his crossbow against the metal bar of the exit door before waiting in silence.
Beth held her breath, knife ready, eyes darting anxiously around the aisles.
Nothing.
No moans, no scratching, no walkers.
Beth sighed, heading to the first aisle before realising that Daryl was following her closely.
"What are you doing?" she whispered.
"Following you!" he mouthed back silently.
"Don't you think we'd be out of here faster if you helped?" she replied. His brow furrowed at the idea of leaving her unattended in an unfamiliar environment.
"Please, Daryl, I'll call for you if I need you. I promise," she whispered, ensuring that she used her most endearing puppy-dog eyes to plead for her independence.
"Fine. But if I hear anything, I'll be here in seconds, okay?" he complied before heading into the next aisle.
Beth worked quickly, scanning each aisle and retrieving any remaining stock from the shelves.
Soup, canned fruit, beans, tissues, blankets, towels, batteries, bandages, tape, plastic containers, cornflakes, water purifier tablets, soap, needles and thread, garbage bags, a backpack that had been discarded on the floor, noodles and a bag of rice.
She stopped at the drugstore aisle in front of a display of condoms. She seemed almost foolish for looking at them, the young virginal girl that she used to be scolded her for appraising the boxes. She ripped one open and pulled out a foil packet only to sigh with disappointment. Expired. What did she expect? Condoms most certainly did expire, especially in the four years it had been since Trojan had produced them.
Shrugging, she swept all of the remaining boxes into the bag she was carrying. Surely an expired condom was better than no condom at all? The evolutionary component of her brain laughed at her for worrying about contraception in a time where she was biologically depended upon to repopulate the world, but her mind lingered on the memory of Lori and that was enough to steel her resolve.
"You finished?" a familiar voice called from aisle 12.
"Yeah, you?" she called back.
Daryl's face appeared around the corner of the aisle wearing a broad grin.
"You'll never guess what I found, there's- fucking hell!" he glanced down at the bag full of condoms she was shouldering protectively.
"What? You saw what happened to Lori and I-"
"Yeah, yeah, of course. But 16 boxes? How much sex are you planning on having?" he smiled down at her flushed cheeks.
"Just about as much as I can get from an old man like you," Beth quipped before standing on her tippy toes to kiss him chastely on the lips.
"Oh, you're going to pay for that later," he groaned as she pulled away.
"Good. I can't wait for my punishment," she winked.
"So you never did tell me what you'd found." Her hands were resting lightly on the front of Daryl's shirt, tracing small but very ticklish circles through the fabric.
"Chocolate. I found chocolate bars, I thought you might like them," Daryl choked out, suddenly very much aware of the fact that they were all alone.
"Yum," Beth bit her lower lip deliciously. "Maybe you can eat it off my body tonight," she teased before she took off ahead of him and disappeared into the next aisle.
Daryl quickly readjusted the aching hardness that had recently developed within the confines of his jeans before heading after her.
"Did you get everything we need?" she called. He could hear her footsteps in the aisle next to him.
"Pretty much. It would be nice if we found somewhere with clothes," Daryl added.
"Well it's a good thing we're in a mall, silly. Come here!" she called. He found her standing at the door of the convenience store, which opened into the main court of the mall. He peered out carefully, his eyes trying to pinpoint movement.
"Oh, look!" Beth's voice chirped like a baby bird at her discovery. She was pointing a dainty finger towards a department store less than 200 yards away.
"Alright, let's hurry while it's quiet," Daryl carefully pushed the squeaky glass door open, his heart pounding as his ears strained to hear any warning signs of approaching walkers. Silence.
"Keep quiet and stay behind me," he instructed as they inched their way cautiously towards the store entrance. It was closed but unlocked, and after an initial sweep they only found two dead walkers and a lot of blood behind the counter in womenswear.
"Same rules apply, okay? Yell if you need me. When you're done, meet me at that exit door okay?" he took off immediately.
Beth took her time wandering through the racks of women's clothes. Many of the mannequins were overturned and broken, a hollow plastic head lay on the floor surrounded by assorted plastic limbs. Beth hadn't enjoyed the privilege of browsing through a store for longer than she liked to think. Even before the outbreak she'd never been much of a shopper. But she found herself enjoying the selection of clothes and shoes, more often than not stopping in front of a delicate flowered blouse or a short fitted dress before remembering that these clothes were no longer practical.
Before long Beth had accumulated a handful of apocalypse-appropriate attire: plain t-shirts, pullovers, jumpers, jeans, thick socks, and a pair of knitted gloves. She couldn't resist adding a wooden hairbrush to her bag along with a few new pairs of boots that weren't covered in walker juice like her own.
She forgot for a short moment of the world in which she was living. She felt like every teenage girl should, grabbing articles of clothing freely, enjoying the peace of the silent store and the sound her boots made as they clicked on the tiles. Then she caught sight of her reflection in a full-length mirror. Her hair was knotted, she had a smudge of dirt down her cheek and her shirt was dirty and frayed at the edges.
Shaking her head, she turned to find Daryl before noticing that she was standing in the women's lingerie section. Sure enough, underwear was simply something else she required. Although she felt that Daryl would not object to a no-underwear rule, she could hardly resist the free smorgasbord that lay before her.
Her mind could barely register the variety of lingerie before her naïve eyes. Bustiers, corsets, strapless, lace, silk… the possibilities were endless. Beth picked out the most appropriate ones first. Comfortable, practical, easy to wash, long-wearing, resistant to walker goo. She was satisfied with her collection until she spotted something she couldn't turn away from. Hung haphazardly at the end of an aisle was the most beautiful black lingerie set that Beth had ever seen. She grabbed it, shoving all of her loot into the backpack which she had to struggle to zip closed.
"Okay, I'm done. Where are you? Do you need me to help you?" Daryl's voice called out from somewhere in her vicinity.
"I'm done! Two seconds, let me just get my backpack on!" she replied, quickly shuffling away from the lingerie aisle towards Daryl who was waiting patiently by the exit door.
"Did you find clothes?" she asked.
"Yep. Got enough to last a lifetime now," he gestured to his backpack.
"Come on, girl. It's getting late now," he raised his crossbow in preparation and levered open the exit door, spilling afternoon sunlight into the dark store.
They had made it to the main road when Beth head the first moan. Her hand gripped Daryl's forearm painfully hard causing him to spin around in confusion as Beth stared at the corpse advancing towards them.
"It's a loner, Beth, just pick up the pace," Daryl grunted.
"No. Daryl. Look," Daryl turned just in time to see that the 'lone' walker was by no means alone. Now a few yards behind it stumbled ten more walkers, their noses raised to the wind as they caught scent of Daryl and Beth.
"Run." Daryl's jaw was set in determination as he grabbed Beth around her waist, pushing her towards the forest.
"I'm not leav-"
"Go! Into the trees. NOW!" he roared so loudly that Beth froze in fear before she decided to listen to him for the first time in her life. She took off, praying that she would hear his footsteps behind her.
Gunshots in the distance. Since when did they have a gun? Her heart pounded to the beat of her boots on the hardened dirt floor of the woods.
Daryl's voice was behind her, running to catch up with her, pleading for her to keep running. The straps from her backpack cut painfully into the flesh of her shoulders and she immediately regretted her decision to take so much. She contemplated ditching her bag, but knew that the entire day would be a waste if she did.
"Daryl! Are you still there?" she called back, too scared to turn around.
"Keep running, Beth. Don't stop!" his voice was distant. She heard another round of gunshots, the shriek of a walker going down, Daryl cursing.
Branches from trees scratched at her face as she pushed herself forward. The malnourished muscles in her legs begged her to stop, to rest, to give up. Her lungs screamed for oxygen as she struggled to suck in the dry air. Her feet felt heavy, like dead weights, and her head started spinning as her heart pummelled faster and faster in her chest.
Daryl's voice was no longer behind her. All she could hear apart from the sounds of her own desperation was the low moans and gasps of the walkers as they tracked her.
She broke into the clearing of the funeral home, whipping around to face the forest with her knife drawn. One walker emerged from the darkness, limping towards her on broken ankles. Easy prey for Beth. It dropped to the ground beside her, twitching momentarily.
The next walker was bigger and it lunged at her viciously, its arms outreached and grabbing at any part of her it could find. She plunged her knife into the soft flesh underneath its chin, feeling the knife slide through the rotting brain matter.
Two down. How many more were there? Beth fell backwards onto the ground, her breath shuddering in and out of her chest. Stars were flashing in front of her eyes as her brain slowly recovered from its earlier oxygen deprivation.
Another figure was emerging from the forest before her, blurry before her unfocussed eyes. She tentatively tried to push herself up onto her feet but failed, lactic acid rendering her legs useless. She pulled herself backwards, shuffling away from the advancing figure. Her hand let go of the knife, accepting that she couldn't fight any longer. She could only stare up at the figure, stunned, hoping that her death would be quick. Her eyes screwed shut and she pictured her sister, her father, her mother, her brother, her Daryl.
"Beth?" a familiar voice called her name. Beth was not entirely sure if this was a dream, if Daryl had come to take her to heaven now that they were both gone from this world.
A hand grabbed her shoulder and shook her roughly.
"Fuck, are you okay? Beth?"
She opened her eyes slowly, her brain not quite trusting the image that was in front of her.
Daryl stood before her, his crossbow laying at his feet and covered in walker blood. There was a revolver sticking out of the waistband of his jeans and a bloody knife tucked through a belt loop in his pants.
Beth's arms reached out uncertainly, trying to determine whether he was man or ghost.
"Can you stand?" his very human-feeling hands gripped each of hers, pulling her up until she was able to stare at his face.
"Daryl?" she croaked, her voice hoarse with emotion.
"Hey," he whispered soothingly, brushing her hair out of her face with a hand.
That was when the sobs started. They tore through her body as she clutched his body against hers desperately, burying her face in the material of his shirt and catching the scent of sweat, walker blood and Daryl. They stayed this way for a while, standing in the front yard of the funeral yard wrapped in each other's embrace as she sobbed pitifully.
"Are you bit?" she finally choked out, realising that he was covered in blood. Her hands ran over his body searching for bite marks, scratches, anything.
"Oh, Daryl, you're bleeding," she murmured, finding a long slash in the leg of his jeans.
"It wasn't walkers, I cut it on a stupid fucking branch," he whispered, an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion finally sweeping over him.
"I should clean you up before it gets infected," she pulled away from him to head towards the front door, however her hand remained firmly inside his. As soon as the resounding thunk of the wooden door closed behind them Daryl collapsed into a kitchen chair.
"Let me see!" Beth ripped the side of his jeans open to appraise the damage. It wasn't too deep, but was bleeding profusely. She knew enough from their time on the farm that if she didn't clean and stitch this up, an infection was inevitable.
She started rummaging through her backpack muttering to herself before pulling out a packet of needles and a spool of thread she had taken from the convenience store.
Daryl immediately gritted his teeth at the thought of her sewing up his wound.
"What are you doing with that?" he asked warily, eyeing her up.
"I'm sorry, but I have to sew this up," she looked apologetically up at him.
"Beth, it ain't even that deep. I'm fine, it doesn't even hurt," he made to stand up before she shoved him back into the chair with surprising strength.
"I don't care if it doesn't hurt. Let me stitch up your leg, or die of a staph infection. Your choice!" her shaking fingers began threading the needle. Daryl fished around in his pocket for a lighter, watching Beth's furrowed brow as she held the small flame to the tip of the needle.
"This ain't gonna feel too good, will it?" Daryl grabbed the side of the chair, squeezing until his knuckles went white.
"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry," Beth mumbled before sliding the needle through his skin. What poured out of Daryl's mouth was perhaps the most inventive and insulting string of cuss words that had ever been spoken.
The cut was relatively short, and only required her to pass through his skin with the needle a total of 15 times. Daryl would believe that those three anxious minutes felt like a year.
Beth gently wiped away the blood from the stiches, admiring her masterpiece with a little guilty pride. She'd always wanted to be a doctor after all.
"Are you okay?" she asked softly.
"Course I am. I'm pretty tough in case you hadn't noticed yet," Daryl grimaced, watching her walk to the sink to rinse the blood from her hands.
"I know you are," her voice trembled, on the verge of tears once more.
"Come on, Beth, please. Don't cry. I'm fine, I promise," Daryl smiled half-heartedly at her trembling back, hearing her sniff daintily.
Slowly she turned to face him. He could see the tear-tracks on her face and the way in which her bottom lip trembled with emotion. His arms reached out to her, an unspoken invitation. She wasted no time in climbing onto his lap, wiping at her tears before burying her face in the crook of his neck. She could hear his pulse this way. She could feel the life within him. His arms wrapped tight around her body, squeezing her into his warmth.
"I thought I'd lost you today," she whispered. His hand cupped her face, pulling her from the hidden comfort of his shoulder to fix her with a piercing gaze.
"You didn't, Beth. I'm right here," he replied, bringing their lips together.
"But- I thought I'd lost you, and I gave up. I just gave up. I wanted to die," she pulled away, a tiny wrinkle on her forehead deepening.
"Ssh, Beth. You don't need to explain anything to me," his hand on the side of her face guided her back to his lips once more. Their kisses were soft, gentle, and tentative. She sighed into the kiss, her little fingers tugging on the hair at the base of his neck, her body pushing itself instinctually closer to his. Suddenly, she pulled away.
"Can we go to bed?" she murmured.
"Nothing sounds better to me, I'm beat," Daryl stood, testing out the pain in his leg. Minimal. That was good news.
"Come on, I'll race you," he grinned, heading for the stairs. Beth followed closely behind him, he could hear the little hiccups and gulps she made as she tried to overcome her emotions.
It was sheer relief to slide off his boots, his blood-covered clothing was kicked to a shadowy corner of the room as he set down his crossbow by the bedside table, silently thanking the heavens for its presence earlier that day. The thought that he had been so close to the edge, so close to leaving that beautiful angel all alone in an apocalyptic world frightened him more than he'd have liked to admit.
He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she pulled her hair out of its braid, pulling out stray twigs with her fingers as she combed through it. Her eyes looked red from her tears, her lips swollen from her anxious gnawing. She'd never looked so beautiful to him. She pulled back the blanket from the bed and climbed in so gracefully, pouting up at him until he slid in beside her.
She immediately curled into his arms, their legs intertwining and her head resting over the steady drumming of his heart. Her head tilted up, those perfect lips seeking his out with little trouble. She sighed, her body melting into his as he squeezed her closer, one hand tangling in her unruly hair.
He pulled away, finally, for lack of oxygen to his brain. Goddamn, the way she looked up at him, almost pleading with those long Bambi lashes. He'd never grow tired of this woman.
"Go to sleep," she whispered, pressing soft kisses on his collarbone.
"I will. I'm just enjoying this," he smiled, flexing his arms around her body.
"Mmm, I never want you to let me go," she breathed, her eyes closing as the exhaustion overtook her.
"I won't," he murmured in response, feeling her breathing grow softer as she drifted off to sleep.
He admired her that way for a short while, her hair splayed over his chest, her chest gently rising and falling with each breath. He savoured these moments of peace. In a world like this, you simply had to.
"I love you."
The words escaped his lips before his brain even registered them.
Daryl certainly hadn't used those words before. Not even to his family. But then again, he'd never felt about anyone else the way he felt about Beth. He'd accepted that he was incapable of love and then she'd come along with her silly braid, her stubborn attitude and her scarred wrists and mesmerised him. He'd surely never known someone so pure of heart, so kind, so unconditionally loving. He'd sure as hell never felt so protective of another human. His desire for Beth was no longer a want, but a need.
"I know you love me, Daryl Dixon." A short, sweet whisper in the dark shook Daryl from his thoughts. He felt her hot breath tickling his chest as she spoke.
"You heard me?" he grunted, suddenly feeling a little vulnerable.
"Yes. I'm the only girl you're ever gonna love," she murmured into his skin, moaning softly as he squeezed her even tighter against his body.
"I'm okay with that," he replied, his voice drifting off into sleep. He loved their closeness, their bodies so intertwined that Daryl felt like they were one. He felt safe knowing that she was there with him, encased in the iron fetters of his arms for one more night.
