4/10.
Thanks again guys. You're all awesome. x
Author's note – this chapter deals with the aftermath of rape. Be warned; nothing graphic, but still.
Fall came on the wings of an icy wind; the leaves on the trees changed with that wind, and the outside world exploded with colour. But with that colour came a different kind of danger. The falling leaves made it harder to hunt, and Daryl found himself organizing runs far more frequently. He didn't mind; after the incident a few weeks earlier, he had done everything within his power to avoid Beth. The only time he saw her during the first week was at meal times when she was surrounded by people. By the time he allowed himself to relax, he had made the decision that it had all been in his head. He wasn't attracted to Beth; he simply wasn't used to sharing his person space, and the reaction his sleep addled mind and body had had to her, was a reaction that he'd not intended to have. But when he had tried to stuff Beth back into the Little Girl box in his mind, he was horrified to learn that she had no longer fit there. Knowing that gave him several restless nights and had him on edge. He refused to entertain the idea that he thought far too often about how warm her skin had been under his hand; that he thought about her.
It was during the isolation of a night in the tower that Daryl finally moved her. How could he not? He knew just how soft the skin of her breasts was, and it was that knowledge, however innocently gained, that had him finally shifting her to the Untouchable box in his brain. While she might not belong to anyone, and she might not mean the same thing to him that Carol did, Beth was Untouchable in every sense of the word. Age didn't even factor into it, even though he knew he was at least twice her age. It had been the look on her face the first day after he had stepped in on her defense, and had told Rick to stop taking advantage of her. The shy smile that had graced her face when they had locked eyes over their evening meal had caused him to shift guiltily in his seat, even as he'd tracked careful eyes over her face. Her features were still too pale, but that night Daryl watched as Hershel had joined Michonne and Beth for the first time; even after Beth had finished eating, she and Hershel had talked for a long time. Long enough, that after checking the perimeter fence and muttering under his breath for several hours, Daryl found them exactly where he'd left them; heads close together, hands clasped, and voices blending together into a low melody in the shifting shadows.
For two weeks Daryl managed to avoid Beth as he firmly tucked her into her new box. That avoidance came to a halt one morning, however, as he climbed down from the tower. Beth had been waiting for him, and when Daryl had glanced at her and then turned away, Beth's voice had slid like smoke through the early morning air as she asked him if he was angry with her; had she done something or said something to upset him, because if she had could she please apologise? In a world where she hovered between being too young for one group and too old for the other, she missed her friend. She missed seeing him in the library. She missed talking to him. Whatever it was she had done, could they just move past it, so that she wouldn't go out of her mind worrying over something she had obviously done to cause him to pull away from her. In the pale morning light, Daryl had turned back to face her. Beth's shoulders had been hunched forward, while her arms were wrapped around her midsection tightly as she worried her lower lip with her teeth. Staring at her, seeing the naked fear of rejection lurking in her eyes, Daryl had been helpless to do anything but nod once; a simple jerk of his head, and Beth had closed her eyes and sagged.
They had never spoken about the rift between them; Daryl had seen Beth watching him on more than one occasion though. Her head tilted to the side as she stared through him; it made him feel as though she could see into the tangled confusion he carried inside himself, but she never spoke about it, and neither did he. They simply fell back into routine; reading together in the quiet stacks of the library. The occasional locking of eyes over a meal. The poke of a slender finger into his ribs as she walked passed, while her laughter drifted to him on the cold breeze at his attempt to stifle his yelp. And as the confusion in his gut tightened yet unknotted, Daryl pushed all thoughts of her skin and its warmth out of his mind and simply enjoyed the way she could lessen the burden he sometimes felt that he carried with nothing more than a simple smile over the top of whatever book she was reading.
Laughter tore Daryl out of his musings, and he swept his eyes across the perimeter fence as a single set of feet came running around the base of the tower. He knew that laughter – had heard it directed towards himself more than once. A minute later a second set of footsteps came towards the tower at a slightly slower pace.
"Damn, Beth, you run like a gazelle. Dunno why you want me to train you… you could just out run the fuckers, whether they had a pulse or not."
Beth's answering laughter drifted to where Daryl was sitting and he lowered his steady gaze from where he had been keeping watch, to where Michonne and Beth stood beneath the tower. Michonne had her hands braced on her knees as she breathed deeply, yet Beth was bouncing on her toes. Her face was flushed, and she smiled as Michonne straightened up and rotated her head a few times as she loosened up her muscles.
"You're training me, because you said yes when I asked," Beth said with a grin. "You're training me, because you knew I'd bug you about it until you caved; Daddy says that when I set my mind on a something that I want, that I'm very persistent. And finally…. You're training me, so that if I ever get stuck out there, I can defend myself."
Michonne simply nodded as Daryl looked between them; he hadn't known Michonne was training with Beth – hell, he hadn't known Beth wanted to train.
"You never asked her what she wanted."
Daryl shook his head as that sly little voice whispered in his mind. No, he hadn't asked. But as Michonne picked up two poles used for killing Walker's through the fence, he wondered if maybe he should have. Wrapping his arms around himself in an effort to keep warm, Daryl watched as Michonne took up a fighting stance. Snatches of speech were tossed toward him on the wind as she spoke, but not enough for Daryl to make sense of what she was saying. But he knew his jaw dropped behind his bandana when Beth took up the same stance, and then blocked an overhead thrust of Michonne's pole. For fifteen minutes he watched as Beth not only blocked but parried. The mock fight was over, however, when Michonne kicked Beth's feet out from under her, and Beth landed on the ground on her back. Michonne didn't pause – she swung in low so that she was crouched over Beth's body, and she lightly tapped the fallen girl's chest with her pole. Beth's hands fell to the ground, and Michonne laughed softly when Beth mimed being dead.
Michonne rose to her feet, and then helped Beth to hers; it wasn't over, however, as Michonne dropped into a fighting stance, and nodded. And as Daryl watched, Beth seemed to listen as Michonne gave instruction, before she grinned and went after her instructor again. This time she went down harder, but Daryl still silently applauded her efforts. Michonne hadn't held back this time, and in giving Beth the full force of her strength, she had forced the other girl into a retreat and advance style of fighting. They were finishing up by the time Daryl broke out of his musings, and he watched as they headed back toward the prison. By the time Glenn shuffled out to relieve him, Daryl was starving. Breakfast was a warm affair of thick oats, and he cradled the bowl close to his chest and turned to find a seat. When he saw Beth sitting by herself and feeding Judith, he headed towards her before his brain could tell him it was a bad idea. He sat down with a groan, and Beth looked over at him in concern.
"You all right, Daryl?" she asked, and when he grunted around a mouthful of oats, Beth's lips curled slightly, before she rose stiffly to her feet.
"Oi… sit," he said, and when Beth sank back down into her seat with a wince, Daryl swallowed his food and took a mouthful of water before he spoke.
"More to survival that hitting a Walker with a stick," he said softly, and when Beth's face whipped toward him, Daryl shrugged. "More to defendin' yourself… more to learnin' to fight, especially when it leaves you walkin' like you're ninety…"
"I know that," Beth said quietly as Daryl scooped a fingerful of oats out of his bowl and stuck them in his mouth. "That's why I wanna learn. I know that being in the prison gives a sense of security, Daryl, but it's a false one. I want to know how to defend myself before that security fails. I don't want to have to rely on others to keep me safe."
Daryl nodded slowly as Beth stared at him. And when he huffed out a breath, a small smile flittered across her face.
"After lights out… library," was all he said as Beth stared at him, before she nodded. And with that single nod, Daryl went back to eating his breakfast, while Beth sat beside him in companionable silence.
XXxXxXxXx
The library seemed like the best place for what he had in mind. He told Beth to hide, and when she tilted her head, Daryl shrugged.
"Half the battle in survival is staying out of your opponent's way. Let's see how good you are at staying out of mine."
He gave her a good two minutes head start with his eyes closed, before he lifted his head and sniffed the air. The library was a fairly decent size, but it still only took him five minutes to find her. She had her back to him when he turned down the stack she was in, and Daryl moved forward on silent feet.
"You weren't sneaky enough," he murmured near her ear when he came up behind her, and was rewarded when Beth jumped near clean out of her skin.
"I didn't move a muscle!" she exclaimed, and Daryl nodded.
"That's half your problem. You stayed where you were," he said bluntly. "Keep movin', keep quiet. Try again."
This time it took him ten minutes to find her; he heard the soft tread of her feet, and the half breaths she took as he followed her progress down a parallel stack, and when Beth turned the corner and bumped into him, she bit back an oath and glared at him.
"Now you're trying too hard," he said quietly. "Walk quietly, yes, just be aware of how you place your feet. And breath steadily… half breaths, Beth, make you pant. Slow and steady breathing through your nose; it allows you to smell what you can't see."
Beth nodded, and then tossed her ponytail over her shoulder as Daryl gestured for her to try again. Ten minutes into it, Daryl swore softly when the lights of the library flickered on and off once, before they were plunged into darkness as the sky outside lit up as lightening streaked across it.
"Daryl?"
He heard the hesitation in Beth's tone, and sighed.
"Power shortage, Beth, it's all right. You wanna head back?"
Beth fell silent, and Daryl tilted his head as her voice drifted towards him from the left.
"Nah, is it all right if we keep going?"
"A'ight," he said and then headed towards where he had heard Beth's voice come from.
The darkness added to their game; Daryl could smell her on the air. The scent of the soap she used and the lingering sweetness of the pot of lip stuff he had given her. But even after he had searched the stacks to his left, he was still unable to find her. A small smile drifted across his face as his eyes drifted to the opposite side of the library. It wasn't her breathing or her footfalls that alerted him to her presence this time; Beth was standing in clear sight on the second tier of the library, with her fingers linked in the chain mesh that covered the windows as she stared outside. But as he climbed the metal staircase that led to the second level, Daryl could see the tension in her shoulders and their game was forgotten. Coming up beside her, Daryl braced his hand against the chain mesh, and leaned forward to peer into the darkness.
"What do you see?" he asked softly, and Beth shifted her weight so that her shoulder brushed his.
Cool fingertips touched his jaw, and Daryl let Beth guide his face slightly. And as he swept his eyes over the ground, he caught sight of what she was staring at. Long shadows moved fluidly, and Daryl swore when he realized that their power outage wasn't due to a shortage.
"Come on."
Beth didn't hesitate. She turned as he did, and followed him down the stairs at a run. And as the first shot rang out across the yard outside, Daryl and Beth skidded into the main room of the prison. Daryl didn't see where Beth went; too concerned with gathering weapons as he spoke quickly, he trusted that she was getting the kids together to hide them from the Governor and his men. The resulting shit storm that went down under the cover of darkness set his teeth on edge. Gun fire echoed loudly, and when the lights suddenly flickered back on, Daryl had little time to figure out who had braved the storm outside to get the power back up and running. He was too busy ramming his knife up under the jaw of the man trying to choke him. For over two hours they fought; the groans of the dying sent shivers down his spine as he wondered briefly how many Walkers had risen already. The stutter of gunfire eventually died down, before halting completely. It was Rick's voice who eventually called out the all clear. And for the next twenty minutes, Daryl made sure that the dead stayed dead. They had lost four of their own; he left Tyreese to make sure Karen didn't rise again as he wiped a blood stained hand across his jaw. But when Carol led the kids down from the second level, Daryl felt the first trickle of fear when he didn't see Beth amongst them. He swept his gaze across the room, and met Hershel's eyes briefly; when Hershel took a step forward, Daryl swore and turned to face Carol.
"Where's Beth?" he asked, and Carol glanced over her shoulder in surprise.
A little blonde girl stepped forward; Mika rubbed a filthy hand over her eyes and spoke in a voice that was thick with unshed tears.
"She took us up to the second floor of the library, and hid us in the cupboards there. Do you know the ones I mean?" she asked, and when Daryl lifted an eyebrow, she shrugged and sniffed back her tears. "Beth said she had to turn the lights back on… that she knew how to do it, and that we had to stay inside. To stay quiet and not move until one of the adults came and got us. Michonne went with her."
Daryl swore softly, and without a word he shouldered his crossbow and headed for the main doors. But try as he might, it wasn't him that found Michonne. It was Carl who found her; Carl, whose white face painted a heartbreaking picture as he knelt in the long grass behind the prison. It was Rick who spotted him, and his hesitant steps took him closer to his youngest child as Beth and Michonne's names were called in increasing desperation by the others. Kneeling down, Rick traced his fingers gently over the bruising that was already marring Michonne's face as Carl shrugged out of his shirt and draped it as best as he could over Michonne's naked legs. While the cop in him knew what he was seeing, the father inside him cried out in denial as he watched his son try to shield Michonne's body and failed miserably.
Tugging the twisted bandana from between her lips, Rick's eyes blurred with grief as a fresh trickle of blood ran down the side of Michonne's face. In the end, it was Carl who wrenched the stakes out of the ground that had kept Michonne's arms and legs stretched out; the rope had bitten into her skin cruelly, and Michonne rolled onto her side and curled into a ball as Rick hesitantly rested his hand on her shoulder. Her lack of tears was scaring him; but as she lay there trembling, Rick lifted his head and scanned the prison grounds for help. Carl staggered to his feet, but before he could run for help, Michonne spoke. Her voice was barely audible, yet the command in her voice had Rick's eyes widening. Not a plea – an order.
"Carl… I need my pants. I don't want them to see me like this."
Carl shook his head even as he searched the ground for them. They lay in a tangled heap a few feet away, and Carl's hands shook as he handed them to Michonne. She sat up slowly; the pain on her face was evident, but she still managed to hook her legs into the warn denim. As Michonne tried to rise to her feet, Rick's attention was dragged away from the thought and onto the woman before him as she slowly pulled her jeans up her thighs. The denim covered the hand shaped busies on the backs of her thighs, and Michonne bit back a cry of pain as she pulled them the rest of the way up. There was nothing she could do about the state of her torn top. But when Carl pressed his shirt into her hands again, Michonne managed a wobbly smile as she slipped into the dark cotton and wrapped it around herself. But when Carl batted her hands away and buttoned it up, Rick bore witness to the exact moment any lingering innocence his boy had died.
"Who was it?"
Carl's voice was like ice, and when he tilted his head so that he and Michonne locked eyes, Rick swallowed as Michonne turned her eyes away and stared out across the yard.
"The Governor…he took Beth. An eye for an eye, he said. I took his daughter… he'd take mine," Michonne said flatly, and Carl's lips compressed into a white line.
Rick continued to kneel there as Michonne rested her hand on his shoulder for support; Carl helped her step back into the boots she wore, before he draped Michonne's arm across his shoulders and wrapped his arm around her waist. Tears ran down his face as Rick staggered to his feet and he watched silently as Carl supported Michonne on the walk back to the prison. A dozen steps later, Michonne's fingers tightened within his own as Rick helped her to walk; her gait was wracked with pain, and more than once they had to stop as she wobbled on her feet. Glancing down at her, Rick winced when he saw that the crotch of her pants were already stained with blood. Carol met them at the main door, and it only took a single sweep of her eyes for her to realise what had happened. Her touch gentle, she pushed Rick away and took Michonne's weight as she guided the other woman towards the showers. And as they disappeared around the corner of the cell block, Daryl burst through the main doors with Glenn, Hershel and Maggie on his tail.
"Is she a'ight?" he demanded as Rick sank into a chair.
Rick could only shake his head, and as silence descended on the room, Maggie knelt down in front of him and touched his hand.
"Rick? Is Beth all right?"
Her voice was small, and when she reached up and brushed away the tears that ran freely down his face, Rick closed his eyes.
"He raped Michonne. She isn't all right. But she will be. As for Beth… the Governor has her."
Carl's voice was flat as he voiced what Rick couldn't, and Hershel looked towards Carl as he left the room with some clean clothes clenched in his hands. Maggie's hands flew to her mouth, and she started to scramble to her feet. But when Rick tightened his grip on her hands, Maggie stilled.
"Carol's with Michonne right now," he said quietly, and then cleared his throat when he heard how rusted over his voice sounded. "She knows what to do to help her…"
Rick looked over at the others then. Hershel was standing there with a look of helplessness on his face, while Glenn was witting on the steps with his head buried in his hands. Daryl's hands were clenching and unclenching, and his mouth was a tight line of pure rage as he fairly vibrated where he stood; Rick saw the look that passed between them when Daryl looked at Hershel; he saw the silent plea as it flew from the older man's eyes and was answered with a curt nod. While Hershel would help Michonne, Daryl would track her rapist down and castrate him, before taking Beth back.
XXxXxXxXx
"He threatened to kill her. The bastard had a knife to her throat… he waited until I was… down… before this slimy white guy he called Dwight belted her one. She was unconscious when Martinez carried her out of here."
Daryl looked away when Michonne winced as she shifted on her bunk, but impatience and fear had his eyes straying back to her not a minute later.
"He uh… he wanted to hurt me, because I hurt him." Michonne looked down at her fingers, and when she saw that she had twisted them within her blankets, she made a conscious effort to untangle them. Smoothing the blanket out with her hands, she took a deep breath and then looked at Daryl as he knelt by her bed.
"The… the rape itself was meant to humiliate me. But he knows I care about Beth. He knows that we run in the mornings and that we often walk the perimeter and talk together. He knows things about us, Daryl, things that he shouldn't know."
Michonne pressed her lips together into a firm line to stop them trembling, and shook her head.
"He called her Penny… I killed his daughter in Woodbury. She'd reanimated as a Walker, and he… he… he kept her chained up in his house like a god damn pet!"
It burst out, and when a tear spilled over the bruised skin of her cheek, Michonne swept it away with an impatient hand as Daryl averted his gaze. But when those cold green eyes locked with her own again, Michonne reached out and grasped his arm in a deceptively tight grip.
"Thinking that she's his daughter might keep Beth safe for a little while, but it won't keep her safe forever. That bastard's sick, and he needs to be put down before he realizes that Beth isn't his daughter. I'll come back from this… you know I will. Beth wouldn't... it'd destroy her, Daryl. It'd destroy everything inside her that is pure and good… you know what I mean when I say that. You need that light inside her just as much as I do."
Daryl shifted on his knees, but when Michonne's hand tightened again, Daryl blew out a deep breath. He did know what she meant by the light that Beth carried inside herself; it was what made being around her so addictive. After a day of killing and planning and fear, simply spending time with Beth could lighten the load he carried. Nodding, Daryl simply turned his hand over and gripped Michonne's for a minute before he rose to his feet.
"I'll get her back, Michonne."
Michonne nodded and as Daryl drew level with the curtain that gave her privacy, Michonne spoke; an almost silent plea that showed grief and fear and the love she felt for the younger girl.
"Do you promise? Promise you'll bring her back, Daryl."
Daryl stilled, and glanced slowly over his shoulder. A simple nod of his head and then he was gone. But his voice floated back to her, and caused Michonne to curl onto her side and close her eyes as tears finally spilled down her face.
"Promise."
