A.N. - Wow you guys, I'm gonna say it every time, thanks so much, and thanks too to everyone who has favorited and followed the story even if you haven't reviewed, I love all of it so much. Well I think that's all I got so I hope you all enjoy the chapter.
I wish you all (as always) happy reading!
Chapter 7
He hated that damn woman.
Daryl immediately scoffed at the thought, not even being able to hold onto the idea for the time it took to go through his mind. He just had to accept the fact that what he'd decided while escaping with her from the hospital was still right. Beth had managed to get herself stretched all throughout him, and he couldn't seem to shake her loose.
Not real surprising since it'd only been a few damn days, but shit, did she always have to burrow into him like that?
He prowled around the kitchen, jerking open drawers and cabinets that had already been searched, wishing to whatever higher power there may be (he was willing to get religious for it at this point) that a pack of cigarettes in whatever condition had somehow been missed the first go around.
He was sure to ignore the impulse to then slam the fuckers closed after each one offered him only barren disappointment. He didn't need Rick, Glenn, or god forbid – Beth herself coming in here to see what the hell was going on. Everyone seemed a little too observant these days as it was, and right now Daryl was feeling even less chatty than usual.
If that's even fuckin' possible.
He rubbed in agitation at the knuckles at the base of his fingers, back feeling too bare without his bow, hands fidgeting with the need to be doing something other than fidgeting. As always half the problem with being mad at Beth was that he couldn't manage for her to be the only one he was pissed at.
He could blame her nightmare for that hug that had him pressing her along the whole damn length of him. But would it be too much to ask if something about her could feel wrong other than the place her head was at right now?
Damn girl felt like she'd been custom fitted to his frame, and he hadn't been able to deny her whatever comfort she'd needed. Not when she'd come hobbling across the living room and into his hiding spot like she had those motherfuckers right on her heels.
But then the study…and there was no goddamn excuse for that.
Hadn't she been good? Swallowing down every little reaction her body had had while he'd worked at the stubborn knots in her back. And what the fuck had he done? Acted like it was some kind of sick challenge for him – wanting to see if there was another move other than running the heels of his hands along her spine to make her react.
He'd run the knuckles and tips of his fingers over every bit of her back, and finally admitting defeat, he'd resorted to doing what he had. And standing in this kitchen with the quiet of the house and woods around him, the relative safety of his mind, he could admit there'd been a part of him worried it wouldn't work.
And what kind of sick fuck did that make him? Wanting a woman like Beth to make noises for him like she was writhing beneath him in a much different setting than the one they'd been in? Was it the Dixon blood in him that made him want to corrupt the only innocent truly genuine person he'd ever met?
And that shit went for before and after the dead decided to roam around.
Beth looked to him for protection, to keep her safe from the things trying to prey on her.
The thought made him nauseous, and the peaches he'd eaten threatened to make a quick and violent reappearance. Girl depended on him to be one of the only things she didn't have to keep a guard up for, and it didn't matter how misguided that fucking judgement call seemed to him – Daryl needed to get his shit together.
It was weird, and not half as scary as it should be, that he was having these thoughts at all. He hadn't wanted anything like that from a woman in a long time, maybe even ever. His experience with females was only because of two things, hormones when he was younger, and Merle after he'd gotten over the first thing.
He fuckin' hated being touched and that idea held a lot more traction than his earlier thought about Beth. And yeah it had to do with being smacked around by the old man, but with the women he had seemed to attract – they took one look at him and decided he must like it rough. Maybe he would have, Daryl considered, eyes looking blindly out one of the grime smeared kitchen windows, but he'd never gotten a chance to feel comfortable with them to find out.
They'd paw at him, dig fake fingernails into his shirt covered back, the scars underneath seeming to twitch uncomfortably. And they'd grab too hard too soon, kiss like they knew him, and moan harsh and dirty things in his ear while he just desperately tried to finish so that he could get away.
He was probably twisted enough to get the feeling he got from just looking at Beth, tangled up into making it something physical. He'd be the first to admit he had no idea what this sensation rolling around inside of him was. And maybe he couldn't blame himself for wanting to slide that glow along all the places that hurt, or he couldn't have before, but Beth was a whole new animal now.
His own animal felt about as haggard as it ever had – crawling and growling inside him until he didn't know if it liked all this change or not.
The thinking part him sure as hell didn't know how to take it. He glanced back at the kitchen door and muttered in irritation. He'd made a deal, and while he'd never been above welshing if he could logic and justify his way around it, he had a feeling she'd make him pay for it later.
His eyes narrowed as he turned to brace himself against a dust covered countertop, fingers flexing on the granite surface. People that'd built this thing here, hadn't come from the area, he could feel it in his bones. Maybe one of the coasts, didn't matter which, they'd had money, bought a tract of land in the Georgian woods not too far from the big city, and built their dream home only to have the world end.
He pressed a quick hard breath through his nose, now that kind of luck Daryl could understand.
"Did ya miss me Daryl?"
He shook his head angrily and shoved away from the counter, doing his best to go through the kitchen door without slamming the sonofabitch into the hallway wall. Why didn't she just skip the small talk and kick him right in the gut? Hadn't he tracked her country ass down?
Fuck –
He really had to admit that shit to her out loud? He thought people were always harping about how actions spoke louder and all that bullshit. His footfalls sounded too heavy and he immediately worked on calming his ass down, he couldn't get into the habit of making so much noise.
Wasn't real healthy nowadays.
He couldn't tell – once again – if he was more relieved or irritated to find her still sitting quietly where he'd left her. She could have done him the favor of going to sleep so he didn't have to face holding up his end of the deal tonight. But no there she sat, eyes dead and mind clearly a million miles away, and Daryl had to stop himself from growling like an idiot.
Without a word he climbed the few steps to resume his prior spot and waited, she'd either wake back up to the land of the living or she wouldn't. Either way this would give him a better leg to stand on that he'd done his part, wasn't his fault if she'd decided not to carry through, who was he to say she was as disconnected as she looked?
Feeling shitty over his current train of thought he curled in on himself a bit, leaning forward on the step, back hunched and elbows resting on his knees, he began worrying the edge of his thumb with his teeth.
Slow minutes passed, he'd been running his fingers repeatedly over the hair around his pursed lips and down his chin when he heard her finally shift behind him. Closing his eyes briefly, he beat down the feeling of relief when he heard her quiet voice from somewhere over his shoulder.
"I can't reach you like that."
The grunting hum didn't manage to cover his annoyance of the situation he seemed to be constantly finding himself in since she'd been back. Wanting to touch and be touched without looking like or admitting to the fact that he wanted either of those things – ever. The urge was foreign and made him twitch like a yuppie prick, which was fucking obnoxious as hell.
"An' my hands aren't as strong as yours, so you'll need ta'take your vest off." She sounded apologetic, but he wasn't in the mood to be accommodating.
Without moving back at all, he stripped the vest from his back, dropping it unceremoniously on the stairs in front of him, glaring at it as it made a slipping escape down the steps to the landing. She stayed silent for about a minute more before he heard a puff of irritation leave her lungs.
"Seriously?" He shouldn't be such a pain in the ass. He knew more often than not he made things a whole lot more difficult than they needed to be.
But again, we wasn't really in the mood to act in any other way.
And why the hell should he? Maybe Beth didn't needle him vindictively, but she did pick at him almost nonstop from the start of them being stuck together. Couldn't ever leave well enough alone, wanting to know what the hell was going on in his head. Wanted him to have faith, wanted him to talk, wanted him to use utensils and shit.
Always wanting him – always expecting – something from him.
Even if she wasn't saying it.
She'd just look at him with those eyes of hers, and the reflection back at him was a much better man than the one he recognized, that he knew he was. And being a damn masochist, he'd find himself trying to be what he saw there in those shining blues of hers.
Even when they'd played that stupid drinking game at the moonshine still, he'd stuck to things that were neutral, travel, vacation, normal people shit. While that damn troublemaker seemed to be going for every private or embarrassing thing she could.
He'd just started looking at her different, more than just the last person he might see alive.
Hearing what she thought of him, someone whose experience revolved only around drunken mistakes and time spent locked up…Made him feel like a dumbass for thinking that anyone like her could ever see him as someone other than an ignorant ass redneck. It'd set him off real good, and he'd called that walker exactly what he'd been thinking about himself.
"Dumbass, come here dumbass!"
He had about as much a chance being a regular person as the thing he shot and pinned to that tree did. So he'd done the only thing he could do, put his hands on her, never enough to hurt, he'd rather kill himself, enough to piss her off and scare her a little though. It was the only way to remind them both what the fuck he was.
Just an idiot redneck with a bow who couldn't manage to die.
"Fine." She snapped from behind him and he was slammed back into the present by the feeling of long toned legs sliding along the outside of his thighs before the warm center of her pelvis pressed against the middle of his spine.
"Fuck're you doin'?" He snapped back at her, making a slightly undignified skootch and dropping hard onto the next stair down, even as his dick gave a twitch of interest.
"Well?" She retorted angrily, and he felt two small hands light on the tops of his shoulders. "Can't imagine why you're wantin' to drag this out."
He scoffed, doing everything in his power not to wrench away. She wasn't gripping onto him at all. Obviously she expected him to pull out of her hold and she was giving him all the opportunity he needed.
He tried relaxing under her touch as he muttered into the quiet hallway, only the sounds of slight snores and the crackling of the fire filling the silence between them as she pushed experimental thumbs into the backs of his trap muscles. Shifted uncomfortably as he read the riot act silently to his overly active crotch, for fuck sakes they'd just been over this.
He tried to think about anything else as she got her bearings.
Who was on watch right now? Michonne and Sasha. What round of watch was he? None. Second night in a row. But Rick hadn't wanted to hear Daryl's protests once he'd gotten back from cooling off from his earlier conversation with Beth.
Apparently bagging that deer earned him another free night of rest.
Too bad, he could have done with an excuse to cut this thing short. He was still wound up tighter than a virgin at an orgy – Jesus fuckin' Christ Dixon, really? – but he hadn't pulled out of her hold, so Beth was starting to feel more confident in her movements.
Her hands, so much smaller than his own, were surprisingly good at this, and while he depended on the strength in his grasp, Beth had seemed to settle on using her little balled up fists to make up for the lack of force.
The flat part of her clenched digits moved in slightly jerking circles near the base of his neck. Her other hand was using his shoulder for leverage as she held on tight. She made little trips along the top of his back, switching hands at certain points and then starting over.
And god did it feel good.
He had hoped to shut his mind down while she worked, but his body had been feeling pretty fucked up for a while now. Her attention to each square inch was too much for him to block out, and the sensations traveling down his back was like a long swallow of Jack while taking a hot bath.
He was grateful his vocal cords didn't seem to have the same habits Beth's did. He didn't have the barest feeling that he was going to be making any kind of noise.
"Can I go lower?"
Hell. No.
He nodded without a word, eyes sliding shut as prodding fists made their way slowly down his back. She'd lean into one fist, still with the same rotation, though it felt smoother now, before letting off and pressing in with the other hand, repeating the motion. He had never had anyone offer to give him a backrub, and had they offered he'd have bit their fuckin' heads off without question.
But right now? Under Beth's hands? Well, he realized he was squarely and truly up shit's creek without a paddle because there was no way if she were to offer this again would he be able to say no. She used her whole body to lean into the pressure she exerted with her fists, and even though he was sure not to make a sound he could understand her earlier inability to do the same.
He could feel his body lean back into her touch like it was trying to help her out, creating less distance for her to cover. He found himself running through reasons he could use in the future to get her to keep doing this without making things weird. Then again, he admitted as his chin finally dipped down to rest on his chest, Beth was the kind of person to do it just because he'd asked.
But would he be able to ask?
Probably not.
Daryl was beginning to dread when she'd stop, it felt like it had been seconds and hours at the same time since she'd started. Her warmth along his back was reassuring and the quiet was nice as she methodically hunted down each balled up hunk of muscle and nerve in his back and rolled and pressed it into submission.
Good lord the girl was so focused and meticulously working on him right now, and he could feel his body begin to heat with how damn attractive that felt. She was touching him like it was her life's mission to eradicate any soreness or knots that might be trying to evade her search. His fingers began to curl against his palms. Feeling like they wanted to run over her in return, his pants slowly tightening, losing some of their bagginess.
"Do ya mind if I try somethin' I saw on a movie once?"
Fuck yes I mind.
"Nah g'on." His voice was half ragged as it cleared his throat and he fought against the urge to cough.
"Are ya sure?" She was leaning in closer, her breath barely moving the hair next to his ear. "I'd be hittin' you, well not hittin' but ya know." And she bumped the flat of her fist into his back. "Or I could do this, but the angle isn't great." She continued, turning her hand into a blunted blade and knocking it with the same small force next to his shoulder blade.
"M'Fine, I know what yer talkin' about." He'd seen that shit before too, it looked ridiculous and he was getting ready to have a nice silent chuckle about it, when her small fists began to lightly pummel his back.
His whisper of a grin dropped as his mouth slackened just enough to let out a fuckin' noise, and he swore at himself as he felt the speed and pressure increase, knowing she'd heard it too. Goddamn, it'd barely been anything at all, like a sigh that had caught too much traction. Meaty pattering noises filled the air and he felt a deeper groan rumble out, as his worthless ass body leaned farther back into her calculated assault.
Ah no he wasn't just up shit's creek – he was drowning in that motherfucker.
He hummed out a final appreciative note when her hands stilled, only to begin a much lighter rubbing over his now twitching muscles. Fuck sakes he felt like he could sleep for a year right now, that heavy warmth was there too, and his hands still clasped around the idea of the body at his back. But it was a looser want now, he felt like a liquid limbed jungle cat at the moment, and it was nice as hell.
After moving her hands up until she could press her thumbs along the back of his neck and into his hair, in a near perfect copy of what he'd done to her earlier, she finally stilled. Feeling the slight coolness that ran down his spine when she drew her hands back he was able to shake off the spell-like state his body had been in and his eyes opened, his chin rising off his chest.
"Ready for bed?" She asked, and her voice sounded sweet and happy, not even the slightest bit gloating, and he felt like a creep for the images that question made appear.
"Yeah." He grunted, feeling the word vibrate hard in his throat before he cleared it. "Thanks." He then muttered, standing (adjusting quickly) and turning to offer her a hand up, flushing a little at the happiness he was greeted with when he did.
"Happy to." She beamed at him as he helped her down the stairs. "Anytime."
He couldn't stop his eyes from flashing down to hers, trying to gauge just how sincere that offer was. She gazed up at him, hand still holding onto his forearm for balance, and he found himself resigned to the fact that this tiny blonde girl had gotten him somehow wrapped around her little finger. Even if he would never, short of straight torture, admit that to another living soul – hell, he wouldn't even risk saying that shit to a walker.
After a silence that felt a little heavier than usual, the hairs on his arms standing like he was walking through the power plant outside of his old hometown again, Daryl nodded a bit to her offer and tried to ignore the brilliant smile she gave him in return.
No way in hell did this end any way but messy.
"Was thinkin' a' crashin' in one of them chairs in the study." He decided to share as a way to break the tension building in his newly relaxed body.
He watched as Beth leaned out to look into the living room and turned to look that way himself. Most people had chosen to stay downstairs next to the fire, the weather had been heating up but they never knew when a final cold snap could make the comfort of a bed suddenly unimportant next to the warmth of an open flame.
There was hardly any room on the floor and Carl was wrapped around a snuggled up Judith on the cockeyed couch. Beth looked back at him and smiled again.
"Hope you don't mind company." He shrugged as she turned and, still holding onto his arm, they made their way back into the study.
The light from the fireplace was beginning to go down a little and none of it could span the distance to the now nearly pitch black room. Making sure to leave the door open this time he got her settled before replying.
"M'used to yer snoring by now Greene." She seemed unfazed by his teasing, making a slight face at him as she carefully brought both feet up to rest on the low coffee table.
"Probably about as used to I am of your smelly butt Mr. Dixon."
"Tchuh." He scoffed, plopping heavily into the other chair, slowly and deliberately placing his hands behind his head to show how much he didn't care if his smell irritated her. "Ya love it girl, hard work never smelled so good."
"Oh is that what it is?" She asked wide-eyed as she clasped starkly white hands over her stomach, laying her head against the back of the chair and fixing him with a grin. "Here I thought it was old sweat and deer guts."
"Pfft." He pushed out a derisive breath through his lips, shifting down a little farther to find a more comfortable spot. "Basically the same damn thing woman, don' you know nothin'?"
She raised her hands in surrender, soft smile still in place as she brought her arms to hug around herself, pale arms curving in the darkness. "My mistake."
Where the hell had her sweater gone?
"Ya cold?" He asked, stomach half clenched to get up when she shook her head in reply.
"No. I feel just fine." And her eyes reflected off light he swore wasn't there, but it didn't matter because blue like a mountain stream winked and sparked at him through the dark and he felt himself settle back into place.
The quiet was peaceful, and his body hadn't felt this good since he couldn't exactly remember when, and after waiting for Beth's breathing to even out, he closed his eyes and dropped off almost as soon he did.
He slept hard without dreaming, something like a miracle for him these days.
The first grey lights of morning seeping through the study's blinds had his eyes snapping open. Taking a quick look around him, he took in the sight of the quiet room, the motes of dust filtering through the weak light, and Beth. She lay half propped against the leather of the overstuffed chair, blonde hair a tangled mess at the back of her head. Pale skin was reflecting the small amount of light hitting it back into the room.
Arms clenched around her thin midriff, shirt so faded it was a near-dead kind of yellow, barely resembling the cheerful cloth she'd found at the golf course that day. Her arms had pulled at it until a small silvery path of flesh showed between hem line and jean ridge and his eyes trailed across it way too fuckin' long before he could pull them away.
She might have him wrapped up real good, but it didn't have to make him a nasty fucker that watched her while she slept, that thought about running a fingertip or two over that smooth looking bit of heaven.
Fuck – he didn't even know what the hell this feeling was.
Maybe she didn't mind him hugging her, or helping her ease sore muscles, but there was no way in hell that he thought for a minute the knowledge of him wanting her…Of him looking at her in any other way than the rest of their family did, well, it wasn't a real far leap to know that Beth knowing that would send her right over the goddamn edge.
There was no way he was gonna let that happen. Not to Beth, she wasn't stuck with what those bastards had tried to make her. He'd seen little snippets of who'd she been before, and if she could, if she wanted, to be that person again, he sure as hell was going to do everything possible to get her there.
His eyes cut back to her as a small tremor ran through her arms and chest, her head ducking to try and snuggle some more warmth from the threadbare yellow wreck of a shirt.
Savagely holding in a string of muttered curses, he rolled soundlessly up onto his feet, stopping briefly in surprise. Sure his knees and arms still felt like they'd had the shit kicked out of them but his back felt looser than it had in ages.
Shaking his head he moved across the slightly creaking floorboards towards the living room. Rummaging unceremoniously through one of the packs he growled when he realized all the blankets had been grabbed up by the others in the group.
Finally finding the girl's damn sweater, he snatched it up and immediately headed up the steps two at a time. Peeking into each of the rooms he found a similar blanket situation, and unfortunately in the last room he got an eye full of Abraham's bare ass – effectively killing his will to live.
Muttering darkly, he turned to the last door in the hallway, remembering it had been full of an unnecessary number of towels in a shit ton of different sizes. It'd make a piss poor blanket but Beth was small enough, she could probably get decent use out of one of those ridiculously sized beach towels if he could find one.
Jerking open the door he tossed unlikely candidates onto the floor at his feet. Starting to become even more irritated, and about making peace with the fact that he was only going to be able to cover her with the ratty sweater that was barely in better shape than the shirt on her back, he pulled one of the last towels up to see it unroll a handful of times.
Nodding in satisfaction he tossed the gaudy ass thing (pink and yellow stripes) over his shoulder and made his way back down the stairs and into the study. She hadn't moved an inch and he carefully laid first the sweater, and then the fully unfurled towel along her body. It reached a good ways down her slim legs, ending right at her ankles. She stirred some, and he froze still above her, waiting patiently as she dug her face into the new fabric covering her.
Satisfied that he wouldn't wake her up by moving, he straightened and took a step towards the door only to freeze again, Glenn stood there, arms hanging loosely along his sides, eyes focused intently right at him. Daryl frowned in return, what the hell was he doing up? He hadn't been on watch either, and Glenn hadn't been known as much of an early riser.
Casting a quick look back at a peacefully sleeping Beth, Daryl made his way out of the room. Glenn backed up enough for Daryl to half close the sliding door to the study before jerking his head to have the other man follow him out of the house. Stooping for a minute to pick up his bow, he lifted it over his head before opening the solid piece of wood.
At least the rich folks from before could afford quality lumber for their shit.
Walking out the door they both gave a quick nod to Carol who was on watch and who nodded back to them before going back to scanning the surrounding trees.
"C'mon, gotta take a piss." Daryl rasped out through twenty plus years of smoking, coughing a bit as he made for the cover of some nearby bushes.
"And I have to come for this why?" Glenn questioned lowly, nevertheless falling into step beside him.
"Figure ya had somethin' t' say." Daryl shrugged, flicking a glance at the younger man who seemed overly focused on his treading steps. "'Less you jus' like watchin' women who ain't yer wife sleep."
"I was watching you." Glenn argued, moving a little ways away as both men began relieving themselves in the relative privacy the greenery allowed.
"Gonna tell ya right now that doesn' sound any better." Daryl replied, but he felt a smirk pull up a corner of his mouth as he heard Glenn sigh.
Zipping his fly and starting to walk back to the house he glanced over as his friend caught up with him. Glenn peeked a few sideways glances at him, a handful of times, before Daryl stopped and caught him by the shoulder so they faced one another.
"Hell's goin' on with you?" He asked, about as nicely as he knew how, him and Glenn had been watching each other's backs for a while now and Glenn acting squirrely wasn't nothing new but there was usually a reason behind it.
"Nothing."
Christ he is still a terrible liar.
"Fine, ya tell me or not I don' really give a shit but quit givin' me the side-eye." His voice was a bit harsher than he'd meant it, but it'd been a while since he'd felt out of the loop. "'Cause yer irritatin' the piss outta me."
He watched as Glenn seemed to come to some kind of conclusion and finally nodded, a slow grin appearing that made Daryl feel even more uncomfortable than the idea of the guy keeping shit from him.
"Well you just emptied the tank so no real concern for either of us there." Daryl scoffed as Glenn cocked his head back towards their recently vacated bathroom.
If it was pressin' or dangerous he'd tell me.
Coming to that easy conclusion he turned to head over to the vehicles out in front of the house. The guy was probably just nervous about the trip to Noah's, Glenn never felt comfortable taking people he didn't know for sure could look out for themselves. And probably as far as he was concerned they were taking not one but two people like that.
He yanked his mind from going on a side trail concerning Beth and didn't say a word as Glenn continued to follow him to where their possible forms of transportation waited.
"You need any help getting these going?"
Daryl nodded at the offer, Dale had made the guy a half decent hand when it came to engine maintenance, or at the very least he could trust Glenn not to totally fuck something up.
"First thing we need is this bastard over here." He motioned at the ugly ass SUV, looking along its tires for any flats.
"This gonna fit all of us ya think?" Glenn asked, arms crossed, one eye nearly closing as he looked at the vehicle with a slightly cocked head. Daryl knew the man hadn't been the least bit surprised when he'd been volunteered into going with them to the community when they reached Richmond. Glenn was usually on any type of run they made.
Daryl hummed an answer, trying the doors and finding them unlocked. His lips were pursed as he looked through the regular spots for the keys, finding the damn things in the visor.
Fuckin' people astounded him.
Sliding in the ignition key he cranked and raised his brows when the engine almost turned over on the first try. Maybe the damn thing wasn't going to be the pain in the ass he'd been thinking it was going to be.
Wouldn't that be a nice little change of events for once? Snorting at his own idiocy, Daryl reached down and popped the hood. Jumping out as Glenn yanked the heavy panel of metal up, propping it open, and the two looked over the engine.
"Hey Daryl." Something in Glenn's tone had the hunter turning his head to watch him.
"Yeah?" His brows furrowed, eyes squinting, and he ran an agitated tongue tip along slightly curled in lips, Daryl just really wished the man could either spit out what was obviously gnawing at him or cut it the fuck out.
Either one would be real great.
"You think Beth's gonna be alright?" And the way Glenn turned most of his body towards him – had Daryl thinking he'd been expecting some kind of fight for voicing the concern. "I mean like really?"
He was able to hold the dark gaze for a while, but Daryl was the first one to look away. He fought the urge to bite either at the inside of his mouth or the side of his thumb, knowing such nervous habits wouldn't inspire a whole lot of confidence.
"Think if anyone's got a chance to it's her." He finally said, feeling that that was the best way to get across what he'd been thinking almost nonstop since Grady. He looked back to Glenn, wanting the other man to know he wasn't just saying shit to say it. "Beth's tough, f'she's wantin' t' get through this she will."
And there it was.
The if.
If she wanted to.
Far as he was concerned, Beth could get through, become, achieve, any goddamn thing she wanted to. She wanted to be a fighter? Girl would kick ass and get kicked until she could whoop anyone that stepped to her. She wanted to be a tracker? A hunter? Hell, he'd started teaching her before they hit the funeral home and she'd taken to it like a bird to flight.
She wanted to get back to the person that made a home out of a prison, became a mom to a motherless child, and who gave hope to a faithless piece of shit redneck?
Then that's exactly what she'd do.
"I wish I could just…change."
"And if she doesn't want to?" Movement caught his eye, and he paused before answering, watching as Maggie and Beth made their way haphazardly as fuck down the stairs of the house.
He nodded to her when she waved blearily at him, hair a cockeyed mess, sweater pulled tight against the morning chill, and for some damn reason that heinous yellow and pink striped towel hung around her shoulders like a bulky scarf.
Why the fuck hadn't she left that stupid thing inside, what was she afraid of? Someone stealing it from her?
Watching them until they hobbled out of view, Maggie's arm slung along her back, Beth's arm curled around Maggie's shoulders, he turned his gaze back to Glenn who had been watching the pair too.
"Guess we'll learn t' deal with it." He shrugged, hands going to hang onto the strap of his crossbow.
"Even if her not wanting to be alright means she ends up dead?"
Daryl's hands convulsed around the material in his hands, clenching until his knuckles creaked below the skin. His face immediately turned into a scowl as he looked at the other man. Had Glenn lost his goddamn mind? That's not what Daryl had been talking about at all.
How did that shit not go without question?
"Fuck no." He ground out finally, breathing through his impulse to start yelling and maybe even hitting shit, mad that her brother-in-law had even had the nerve to say it out loud.
Sure, Daryl was able to worry about it, about her not making her way back. Wonder if she even wanted to live anymore, be pissed off and erratic because the way she acted half the time made him believe that she didn't.
But only he was allowed to do that shit. Just like she was allowed to call him out for being a stubborn ignorant ass who couldn't leave well enough alone. He didn't know exactly when, but one way or another he'd gotten closer to that woman more than he had anyone else living.
And how the fuck had that happened?
Hope you guys liked the chapter :) I tried to add some parallels between Daryl's thoughts at the end and Beth's thoughts back in chapter four. Let me know if it was too heavy handed ^.^
As always thanks for reading and any feedback is highly appreciated.
