First, I want to thank everyone for the amazing responses to the last chapter! The reviews were amazing and I'm incredibly grateful for those of you who took the time and energy to not only read, but respond.
There were two reviews left by Guests that I specifically want to address. First, to the Guest who dropped the theory that Daryl believes Beth particularly cares for Rick, and that there would be mutterings from the Woodbury people about Beth taking care of Little Ass Kicker—this blew my mind, especially when you referenced the blonde they had to remove from Cell Block D. I guess I'll just have to go back and watch it again, because you've got me fascinated :-)
Next, the Guest who paid me the high compliment of saying that I know the characters very well and asked if I had the intention of continuing after the close of season four. First, I say thank you, as I've tried very hard to keep them as true as is possible. Next, I say that I do, as a matter of fact, intend to continue. In typical fashion, I've engaged in copious amounts of research—show and comic alike—and have formulated what is, in my opinion, a relatively solid theory for the proceedings of season five. That part is finished, and will be posted, should I not severely disappoint the readers prior to that time and receive a request to cease and desist writing entirely :-)
Now, on to the notes regarding this chapter. I'm going to preface this chapter by saying I have never hunted in my entire life. Those of you who have will undeniably know just how little knowledge I have on this area in just a few paragraphs :-)
I have a theory that quite a bit of time passed between Still and Alone, based on the fact that they just keep adding more layers to their clothing. That being said, the next few chapters are meant to cover the time between the two episodes. This specific chapter, I'm afraid, is a bit of the filler between two intense sharing sessions. This one may not be too exciting, but I ask that you hold faith that there will be more to come :-)
"You wanna change?" Daryl asked, eyes set to the tracks before their feet. When she didn't respond to what he had thought of as a simple question, he looked up to meet her face.
When he spotted the color tinting her cheeks, he thought on what he could've said.
"You mean, like my clothes?" she asked as she left his eyes to quickly glance at her clothing. Daryl thought she might be embarrassed of the raggedy yellow shirt that she still had on. But, with the world gone to shit, he couldn't honestly guess why that would matter.
"Nah," he started, looking back ahead of them. "But we can try ta find some new ones, if ya want."
"What did you mean?" she asked persistently. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, that her eyes were equally determined in their trained stance on to his face.
Daryl kept his eyes trained forward. He knew they gave him away to her, although he didn't really know how they did. If he could figure it out, maybe he'd try to stop it from happening.
"Daryl?" she asked as she moved ahead to walk backwards, allowing her to face him head on. Damnit, he thought, her movement had made it twice as hard for him to covertly avoid looking at her.
"You really wanna change?" he asked again, lowering his eyes to his shoes.
He tried to think what he'd say if he was forced to try to clarify but, much like always, she managed to understand him before he needed to say anything further. Daryl would never admit it, but that always made him very grateful. Begrudgingly so, as he really didn't like that she seemed to know him so much better than he knew her, but that was just a skill she seemed to have.
"Yes," she answered as she stopped walking, forcing him to come to a short stop to keep himself from walking straight into her. The abrupt change in movement forced his eyes up to hers.
The excitement and intrigue he found there had his glued to hers. It was for this very reason that he had resisted looking at her to begin with—it was always harder to look away once he caved. And, once that happened, when he struggled to look away, she got a read on him. He wasn't so obvious to anyone else—or at least he didn't think he was—but she just seemed to see right through him. It made him wish he could do the same to her, get to know her like she seemed to know him.
Her damn eyes, he thought, as he continued to return her look. They drew him in, made him wonder what she was thinking. The way she thought, the opinions she formed—they drew him in. It was so extremely different to how he did things—that light, that passion, that hope—he couldn't help but be drawn in by it, no matter how much he hated to admit that he was.
"'K, then. We're gonna start trainin'," he responded as he walked around her to return on their path on the tracks.
"When?" she asked as she jogged to catch back up to him, her tone far more eager than he had expected it to be.
"We'll make camp a little early tonight," he said as he started to scan the surrounding woods for a good spot. "Then we'll start."
"What'll we start with?" she asked, her smile and tone so bright they felt like they might make her explode. He noticed she placed an excited hand on his arm, as her celebration almost caused her to stumble on the uneven tracks. Daryl felt the impulse to recoil rise in his throat, but he shrugged it off; couldn't have her tripping her damn self and putting a stop to the training before it could even really start, after all.
"Trackin'," he decided after a bit of time to think on it.
"Not weapons?" Beth asked him, but he noticed her tone wasn't really disappointed—just curious. Maybe he did know her a bit, he thought. Maybe what he really wanted was to know her better, to understand how she could think the way she does. Maybe, he thought begrudgingly, he wanted her closer; not just to keep her safe, but to comprehend how she thought—to find some way to adapt to it himself.
"Gotta be able ta find a squirrel before you worry 'bout killin' it," he said with a small smile as he looked down at her.
Her smile brightened once more as she quickened her pace, removing her hand from his arm as she did so.
"Come on," she called. "Let's find a place."
He was never one to smile—everyone knew that. But as Beth practically started skipping ahead of him, even he couldn't stop one from shoving its way onto his face. Didn't mean he didn't fight like hell against it—biting his lip and the side of his cheek in an effort to stop it. He lost the battle.
:::~:::
With Beth moving them along, they managed to find some high ground to settle into for the evening pretty quickly. It was still barely mid-afternoon, Daryl realized with approval as they strung up their protective cans that were the new and improved version of their alarm system. Mid-afternoon would give them a few hours to practice before they were forced to return at dark.
He watched as Beth meandered about the camp; she seemed to be working to assemble as much of a home out of their little patch of forest as she could. It intrigued him, although he hated that it did. What did it matter if they were comfortable, he wondered. She had to know that they wouldn't be here long. Wasn't what she was doing—tidying up and such—pointless then?
But it didn't make him angry, as it would've a few days ago. He didn't know what to do with that, but he had to admit it felt nice to not be mad for a change.
In fact, if he were honest, it intrigued him, drew in his attention. He tried to study her, as she seemed able to do to him. The smile that hit her face as she assembled a small hole and filled it with kindling particularly drew in his curiosity. He thought he knew what it was about—she was thinking they would return with something she had tracked to cook for dinner. We'd see, he thought. Tracking was no easy task—she shouldn't get ahead of herself.
Beth looked up and met his eyes; he felt his cheeks darken at being caught looking at her. But she seemed to barely notice, as she cast one more look around the camp, almost as if she were resolving herself to having done everything she could for the time being.
"Ready?" she asked him.
Daryl took one more glance around their camp before turning back to her. When he met her eyes again, he thought she might've realized he didn't even looked troubled by the lack of things they seemed to have now—no sleeping bags, no extra sets of clothing, no tents. Her confusion only confused him in return—hadn't the moonshine shack shown her just how little he had had? This camp had more than he had usually had as a kid.
He nodded as he tightened his hold on his bow and stepped over the twine that strung together their cans. Without speaking one single word, Daryl moved forward, his eyes set on the ground and scanning ferociously. He heard her moving behind him and knew he'd have to teach her to be a bit stealthier than she seemed to be right now. But that was another lesson for another day, he determined, as he found some rabbit tracks.
"'K," he started, pointing out the direction of the tracks. "There ya go. Some rabbit tracks. Perfect for dinner," he said.
"Where?" she asked, as she leaned forward to look closely, bringing her close to his chest.
He leaned down to her level, where she was examining the ground closely. Patiently, he dropped to squat and pointed out the tracks, hidden right beneath a few leaves.
"Where?" she asked again, matching his stance, only leaning even further forward.
"Here," he said softly as he grabbed her hand and brushed aside some more of the leaves. He used her fingers to outline the prints in the mud. "Do ya see 'em?"
"Yeah," she said as she smiled a bit and leaned even further forward. "How did you spot 'em?" she looked back to him, her eyes bright with curiosity. If he didn't know better—and he wasn't so sure that he really did—he'd say she was almost impressed with him.
Daryl looked away from her as he shrugged indifferently. "Brain's just wired for it, I guess. Keep your eyes open and you'll start seein' it too."
Beth nodded as she looked back to the prints and crinkled her forehead. Daryl almost laughed, as he realized she was trying to figure out what they did next.
"See how clear they are?" he asked as he pointed again to the outline of the print. "No smudges, even with a few leaves layin' on top. Fresh tracks," he clarified, as she continued to look confused. Her mouth molded into an O as she nodded her understanding. "Gotta follow it," he said. "Which way was he goin'?" he asked, watching her think it through.
"Obviously—" she started, as she seemed to stop and think about it. Daryl felt a smirk conquer his face. Beth had him beat in her ability to read people—there was no way to even think of denying it. But here, in the woods, he was in his element. It felt nice to be able to teach her something.
"That way…?" she asked, one eye squinted as she pointed forward.
"Ya askin' or ya tellin'?"
She thought for just a minute more, biting her lip as she did so. "Tellin'."
"Good," he reaffirmed as he stood once more. "How'd ya tell?"
"Paws were facin' that way," she said with a small shrug and smile.
"Then why'd you sound so shaky 'bout it?"
Beth shrugged again as she looked away from him. "Wanted to be sure, but I couldn't be."
He smiled a bit, relieved at seeing her unsure. It wasn't that he didn't like the assured Beth that seemed to crop up anytime he tried to hide something from her; it just felt nice to know that he wasn't alone in his hesitancy.
"We wanna follow it," he started, as he did his best to shrug off his troubling thoughts. "Don't lose track'a the trail."
"How'd you know it was a rabbit?" she asked as she crouched low and switched sides with him to bring herself closer to the trail.
"Don't get ahead'a yerself," he started. "We'll get there."
She glanced back at him with a small shake of the head and a smile that seemed intended to chastise him for something. He worried she might stumble and fall on the trail, but was pleasantly surprised when she held her balance, despite her curved posture and lack of concentration on where she was walking.
She kept walking forward, even after the trail veered to the right. Daryl did his best to check a laugh as he bent down and released a whistle. Beth, who hadn't realized he had stopped, stood up straight abruptly. Noise, particularly whistles, was unexpected—meant as a means of communication saved for emergencies. He realized too late that he probably should've used another way to draw her attention.
Beth turned slowly, wary of what she would see. He held up a hand to bring down her alarm and he was intrigued by how quickly she read his body language and dropped her posture to something that looked a bit more relaxed and comfortable. With a quirk of one finger, he asked her to return and she lowered herself to her knees right beside him.
"Track changes course here," he said as he cleared away a few leaves to bring the prints into better view. Despite not really needing to, he felt his hand extend to grab hers again. "See it?" he asked as he forced her hand to follow the new path the rabbit had taken.
"Oh," she said with sudden recognition. Maybe physically showing her the path wasn't unnecessary, he realized. "Yes, I see it," she reaffirmed as her eyes moved forward, already looking ahead.
Beth stood first and started following the trail. When it shifted a bit to the left, right under her feet, Daryl immediately felt himself jolt into action. "Don't—" he called, only to hate himself for it a second later.
His Pa and Merle had always gotten on his case about tramping on the trail. When he was younger, he didn't understand what the big deal was. Honestly, to this very day he didn't get why it was so damn important. You step on one track in a trail as solid as this one, there's gonna be another one a few inches ahead. But that had never been how his daddy and Merle had seen it—no, it was a damnable offense then.
Regardless of the anger he had infusing his system—at himself, not her—he noticed that she managed to stop mid step. If he hadn't been feeling the effects of frustration, maybe he would've smiled at the thought that she seemed to trust him so readily.
Beth used her neck to turn her head in his direction, confusion all over her face when she did, but no worry. It seemed she just wanted to know what had almost happened, but she wasn't too horribly concerned. He wondered what it felt like—to not worry about constantly screwing things up so badly they couldn't be fixed. No matter how small of a screw up he managed, his Pa and Merle always made it sound like it was the end of the world.
Which was particularly stupid, he thought, now that he sat on the other end of the world going to shit.
"What did I do?" she asked. But, again, there was no deep concern there, just a curiosity to prevent it from happening again in the future.
"Nothin'," he started, shaking his head. He noticed her leg was still frozen mid-air and, again as if he had no control over his appendages, he reached out and gently urged her knee down, purposely guiding her so that it fell dead center on the rabbit's print. "Just a bad habit, 's'all," he added casually as he moved forward a bit, avoiding her eyes, even as he felt hers scanning his face for all he had to offer.
"What is it?" she moved to stand in front of him again, forcing him to look at her. Daryl bit the inside of his cheek as those eyes held his attention. He thought she might be doing this on purpose—but he couldn't be sure.
"Just somethin' my daddy and Merle used'ta say." He tried to step around her, but her hand on his arm stopped him immediately. This time, he couldn't help but lower his eyes to it. It made him a bit uncomfortable, to the point where he felt he had to meet her eyes just to keep from looking at it instead. Was she doing that on purpose too? He couldn't tell and it frustrated him, but not in the way he had been frustrated before the moonshine shack.
"What'd they say?" she asked. Her damn eyes were so shiny that he couldn't look away once he set himself there.
"Don't step on the trail." His words came out gruff, even more so than he usually was. That's what happened when he tried to act like something didn't bother him when it really did. But, as long as she didn't know that, he was okay with it.
Beth looked down briefly and realized she had done so. "But, I did," she said as she looked back up, an obvious question on her face.
Daryl shrugged. "I know. They used'ta get on my case for that. Never knew why—always another print just ahead," he started and was interested to see her nod her understanding. But, he noticed, she didn't speak, almost as if she knew he wasn't done. How could she know that? "Tried to stop ya, outta habit. But, last minute…" he trailed off as he tried to think about why he had changed his mind. "Just realized it wasn't worth it."
Her smile turned bright at his words, although he had no idea what he had done to make her smile. Its brightness and the curiosity it caused in him pulled on him, urged him to hold her eyes and try to dissect how she did it, how she managed to stay so bright and shiny is this shithole of a world.
She didn't say anything else as she turned back to the trail and started tracking again. Daryl, after shrugging off his thoughts, prepared to lean down and show her where the path was again, but was surprised when she managed to find it herself, just by brushing a leaf or two out of her way.
In a few more yards, she managed to turn with the trail successfully. After a few extra paces, she realized what she had done and turned to him with an even brighter smile on her face. The increase in the wattage of her smile had that urge pulling at him again, to pull her in closer—not literally, of course—and try to figure out how it worked.
"I did it!" she called, as she threw her arms joyfully up into the air. He brought a finger to his lips to tell her that she needed to be quieter, which prompted her to lower her arms and take a quick glance around. She was learning, he thought, as he watched her warily take in their surroundings, to the point where he trusted her enough to resist the urge to glance around as well, trusting her judgment that they were safe.
Instead, he kept his eyes on her face, watching as the anxiety eased back off of her expression and her excitement returned as she turned to him. "I did it," she said again, this time on an excessive whisper as she pointed towards the trail.
"Yeah," Daryl drawled, doing his best to resist the urge to laugh at her antics. "Can ya see where it goes next?"
Her forehead scrunched again as she turned back to the trail. When she struggled a bit, he brushed a few leaves out of her way. He saw her eyes turn towards him as she uttered, "lettin' me cheat?"
Daryl met her eyes, smirk in place. "Did ya know where the trail went?" he asked.
Beth hesitated for a second as her eyes scanned the ground. He knew instantly when she'd finally found it, all from her face. "That's not the point," she said with yet another smile, as her eyes continued to focus on the trail.
After a few more steps forward, he came to a halt and gently grasped her arm to pull her down next to him. "See how they're gettin' sharper?" he asked as he traced a finger around the outside of the print. He waited for her to nod her head yes—although her doing so impressed him; it was awful early for her to be able to distinguish that small of a change. "Means we're gettin' closer."
When they resumed standing, he took lead, swinging his bow around and holding it at the ready with his left hand. Daryl noticed, as they approached, that Beth, despite seeing her hovering behind him out of the corner of his eyes, seemed to hardly breath. She had improved on her noise level already.
He found the rabbit just a few feet ahead and, before he settled himself to the task of taking it out, he reached back with his right hand and fumbled for her arm again, not daring to take his eyes off of his prey. Once she realized what he was trying to do, she seemed to find his hand and allowed him to guide her forward, until she was standing right beside of him. He used her own hand to point out the rabbit's location and she quickly nodded, comprehending what he intended to show her.
As she started to pull her arm back, he snapped to resume his hold on her hand, as he chose to follow an impulse, guiding her towards the trigger. Daryl released her for a second as he placed his own hand over the trigger and waited for her to understand what he wanted her to do.
It took her a few moments, but she figured it out, thankfully before their dinner hopped off. Beth's hand mimicked his exact hold on the trigger and, as a result, followed his movements as he released an arrow seconds later.
It was an easy kill for Daryl. But that didn't seem to matter to Beth, who threw her hands up in the air again as he moved forward to grab their dinner.
"Knew I'd do it!" she said, although fortunately not in the yell she had used earlier.
"Just the first lesson," he reminded her as they started to move back towards the camp.
"But I passed," she reminded him as she leaned her head towards him, almost as if she were challenging him to disagree.
Daryl settled for simply nodding, not sure what else he could say to her.
:::~:::
"So your daddy taught you how to do this, right?"
Beth's voice drew him from the numbness his brain had previously been enjoying. Had she chosen any other subject than his Pa, maybe he wouldn't have been complaining. Even so, where he would've previously grunted no real answer, as a way of telling her this was a no-go area, he allowed his eyes to wander up to hers.
He had decided, in the time since the sun had gone down and they had returned from their tracking training, that he could use her apparent need to read his eyes against her a bit. If he met her eyes, even if only just for a moment, and saw her looking intently into his, he knew she was looking for something. Now, whether he could tell what she was after was a whole other matter, but he could try.
"Trackin'?" he asked, his eyes returning to his portion of the rabbit.
When she didn't answer, his eyes snapped up to meet hers in question. She nodded as soon as his eyes found hers, making him suspect she may be trying to sneakily find ways to get him to look at her.
"And Merle," he responded, moving his eyes back to glue them in place on his remaining bits of rabbit.
"When did they start? Trainin' you, that is."
"Real young," he said, glancing up at her briefly, only to berate himself for it a second later. "Can't even really 'member."
"Who was the better teacher?" she asked and he could feel his cheeks start to burn instantly. They were moving towards dangerous territory, but he tried to keep himself in check and remind himself that she didn't know that, that there was no way she could know that.
"Merle," he answered, without hesitation. But he didn't choose to elaborate any further.
He could tell by the sight his peripherals provided that she was surprised by that answer. She seemed to stop and think for a second, almost as if she didn't know how to go from here.
"From what I knew of Merle…" she trailed off, but resumed talking before too long. "I guess I just thought he wouldn't make for a good teacher."
"Didn't say he was a good teacher, just said he was better."
Daryl expected her to bark at him, criticize him, but he was surprised when she actually smiled and released one small laugh. "You're right," she confirmed. He could still feel those eyes on him. "That was what I asked, wasn't it? But they were obviously at least decent," she started again. "You're very good with…all this," she finished as he saw her wave to the woods around them.
Against his will, his damn eyes drew up to meet hers again. He forced them away a moment later, as he shrugged, trying his best to look casual.
"Not all a'that was them," he said. "Got inta some situations as a kid, learned real quick what I needed to do."
"Like what?" she asked. His eyes came up again as he watched her place her bowl on the ground in front of her. She had to be hungry; he knew she had to be. Yet, here she was, putting down their first real food in a few days to listen to what he had to say.
It made it difficult for him to take his eyes off of her. And talking around things? That became damn near impossible.
"Got lost lots, had to find my own way back," he said, trying his best to make a last effort to talk around the subject she seemed so adamant on.
"Didn't anyone come lookin' for you?"
Her words drew his eyes on her immediately. It was almost the exact same response Andrea had given when he said that to her. That felt like decades ago, when he thought back to it.
But in some ways, having this conversation with Beth—especially in hearing her use those particular words—it felt familiar and comfortable. He realized Beth maybe had a few things in common with Andrea—they had both almost chosen to opt out, only to be persuaded otherwise. In a lot of ways, Beth's choice was even stronger, more solid, than Andrea's, thanks to Andrea herself, who had forced Lori and Maggie to let her make her own choice.
From then on, Daryl had noticed they both worked to change the way they lived. Although, based on Andrea's choice in dudes, he had to admit Beth seemed to have a bit of a clearer head—able to read those around her better than any of the others, maybe even better than Michonne.
"Nah," he said, his eyes still locked on hers. "Between the old man and Merle—" he interrupted himself as he thought on how he wanted to respond. "Guess ya could say they was usually too busy to be missin' me."
Her expression immediately turned disgusted. Her ignorance to just how horrible his family could be didn't frustrate him or anger him, as it had a few days ago. He knew this was at the root of how she was able to stay so positive, hold that smile in place. He hated to admit it, but, by this point, he was almost as interested in exploring this as she was, just to see it from her point of view.
"What could've been so important that they didn't notice you were gone?"
Daryl shrugged again, never taking his eyes off of her. "Pa drunk as a skunk, most likely. Merle—maybe doin' another stint in Juvie or high with some girl he found at a bar."
He watched as she bit her lip again, but, despite the fact that it was the same move, it was somehow different than when she was lost in thought. Daryl thought maybe that she wasn't quite sure how to respond, as the silence continued to roll on.
"That's horrible," she said simply, her eyes still on his.
"Taught me what I needed ta know," he responded. "And I always made my way back."
"This happened more than once?" she asked with a cough, almost as if she had choked temporarily on her own air supply.
Daryl simply nodded in response, not sure what else to say on the issue, but interested to hear what she had to say. "That's unacceptable," she said, as her eyes lowered in disbelief. "For them to have such disregard—to just not even care—to not even worry."
"They weren't good people," he said and watched as her eyes came to his again.
"I knew that," she responded softly, with a small nod. "Obviously," she clarified as she continued. "Experiencing Merle first hand was anything but enjoyable."
Daryl didn't take any offense, as he recalled their previous conversation on her defense of his brother. He knew that she had had no mixed feelings for Merle, but she had at least tried to make the best of the arrangement. He was still appreciative of her for that.
"You know," she began, seeming to comprehend the understanding he was trying to convey to her with little more than a glance. She got it far easier than he had even expected her to. He tried to push away the frustration and hone in on the curiosity it brought on instead.
Normally, he thought, he could read people relatively well. Nowhere near as good as she seemed able to, but he was no slouch. But, when it came to her, he was frustratingly lacking. "I was so mad at you," she continued as she looked briefly, embarrassingly to her shoes, only to look back towards him.
"When?" he asked, not finding that hard to believe at all. He could be a dick; there was no denying it anymore, not after the moonshine shack.
"When you didn't return from that rescue mission," she clarified. "When you chose Merle over us…over the family we had created at the prison."
Beth paused and let her eyes linger momentarily on his face, but he didn't give her a response. He thought, if roles were reversed, she would be able to pick up on the fact that he wasn't done and would wait him out—make him continue. He thought this might be one of those times when she needed to not be done, so he held his silence as he patiently waited for her to continue, in the hopes that he was right.
"I mean," she continued, and, had Daryl not been so enthralled in what she had to say, he would've found it very difficult to bite back a smile at his success in reading her and the conversation. "I understood it, of course. Family was always important to me—we've talked about what I would do to get Maggie or Glenn back.
"But as soon as you didn't return, as soon as you chose Merle over us, I knew, from that moment, from my frustration and anger and my reaction, that there was more than one definition of family, and that I no longer considered just my daddy and my sister my family.
"I had expanded that group to include you—and the others," she interrupted herself, almost as if she were startled. It confused him—what had happened? Had she said something she didn't mean? She started talking again before he could really think about it.
"And I had thought you, and the others, had done so too. It made me think I had read the situation wrong, or that I had gotten too invested in a world where nothing was stable. That I had carelessly fooled myself into thinking the world could be like it used to be, before everything went wrong, just like the silly teenage girl everyone thought I was." When she was done, she had tears in her eyes, but he noticed she seemed to refuse to let them fall. Beth looked away for just a moment, to seemingly gather herself.
"But…" she trailed off as her eyes came back to his and her smile returned full force. "Then you came back. With Merle, of course. But, you came back. And I realized I wasn't alone. That, at the very least, you knew what it meant, to be a family in this new world."
There was too much there; he couldn't process it as fast as she was throwing it out. But, one particular thing interested him, and allowed him to focus where he wanted to go from here.
"Why were ya so angry?"
He was afraid she might need him to clarify, but, as always, she seemed to know exactly what he was asking, even if he didn't.
Beth released a deep breath, but not as if she were frustrated with the question, more like she was just thinking it over, trying to figure out how to respond. "It's sorta tied to what we talked about at the moonshine shack," she started, as her eyes came up to meet his again. "You said you thought I would think you were better than just a common criminal. And I did. If anything proves it, it's this right here."
Her words left Daryl wanting nothing more than to ask her to clarify, but he didn't want to seem too eager. He decided to wait her out instead, although it seemed to nearly kill him to do so.
"I just," she resumed, as she shifted a bit before meeting his eyes again. "I guess I had thought you were better somehow. That you wouldn't just blindly follow your brother this time. I knew, you know, back when we were on the farm, that there was a conflict over going to look for him and that things hadn't gone according to plan. Every once in a while it would come up and I remember that. But, since then, since that winter on the road, I hadn't heard much about it, so I assumed it had resolved itself.
"When I heard that I had been wrong, that you had chosen Merle over us, I guess I just felt…betrayed. I had thought that you had changed, become your own person in this world, someone who didn't just follow orders from a manipulative older brother. I guess…" she trailed off, almost as if she were afraid to say what she was thinking. He found himself hoping she found the courage to say it. "I was disappointed in you. I had thought you were a better man than that."
Silenced rolled on as he watched her, seemingly unable to look away. He didn't quite know what to say to that. Part of him hoped she would carry on for just a little bit longer, to buy him some time to form his thoughts.
As always, she didn't disappoint on the talking front. "But I was wrong, wasn't I?" she asked, her smile returning at full brightness. "You came back, just as I had hoped you would."
He knew then, what he had to say. "I knew as soon as I made the choice that it'd'a been the wrong one," he started, looking back to his bowl. It was harder to look at her when he was the one doing the talking. "I just wasn't the same—couldn't just follow him no more. Started pushin' and he didn't like that none."
"Pushing about what?" she asked. He saw out of the corner of his eyes that she was leaning in.
He shrugged as he let his eyes meet hers. "Didn't like the way he was doin' things 's'all."
"What did he do?" she asked so quietly he barely heard her over the fire.
Daryl felt his shoulders shrug again as he looked at the fire, anything to pull his eyes from hers. "Just…just didn't agree on how things should be handled."
She was waiting him out, just like he had done earlier. He could almost feel it, as her eyes held their position on his face, which still failed to return her stare. Daryl did his best to prolong responding, but he knew there was a reason this tactic worked. Silence was too prevalent in their world—it became unbearable when suffered through too long.
"We heard screamin'," he started as his damn eyes ran up to hers again. "Found a baby and a family up on a bridge. I knew, soon as I heard the baby, couldn't'a just left 'em. So I ran up there, took out the Walkers with a bit'a help from Merle. Turned 'round and he's tryin' to rob 'em. Spoutin' some redneck bullshit about needin' an enchilada for our troubles. Had to pull my bow on 'im to get him to knock it the hell off.
"That was the start, I guess. Knew after that we were in for a long night. Weren't gone from the bridge for two seconds before he was flippin' all his shit, yellin' at me for pointing my bow at him."
Daryl stopped to take a breath and realized his eyes were still on hers. He wasn't used to that and felt like he should try to look away, at least until he could finish talking, but they just pulled him in. If it didn't intrigue him so damn much he'd hate it.
"From there, just'a buncha issues from the past."
"Like what?" she asked. He could tell she was curious, but she also seemed a bit hesitant. He thought maybe she didn't want to push him too far, make him backtrack. He felt like that was maybe something he should be feeling, but he didn't—which only confused him more.
"Started with me leavin' him in Atlanta, forcin' him to cut off his damn hand."
"But, you didn't—"
"I know," he grumbled before releasing a deep breath. He had had this argument with himself far too many times. But not really since that last talk with Merle. "I know," he repeated, his tone back to sounding a bit more calm. "I told him it was him and his damn mouth that lost him his hand, not me. Merle just said it wasn't just me, it was Rick and how much he thought I was up the Sheriff's ass."
For the first time in several minutes, he looked away from her as he shuffled his foot a bit in the dirt. He knew what came next, what Merle had found out. "There were other things too," he said, his voice quieter than he was used to it being, as his eyes stayed trained on the mess he was making with the dirt. "Things from the past, things from long time 'go."
When he looked back up to her, he made sure to close off his face a bit, like he used to. There was no way in hell he was talking about that particularly nasty bit of his past. Not yet, anyway. He hadn't told no one about what his old man had done to him—no one except Merle, that is, and he only found out because of his own damn interference—prying that came too late and was still far too little.
"Don't matter," he said, cutting off a breath she had taken, undoubtedly to ask him further questions. "I told him I was goin' back and that if he wanted ta stick together that was how it was gonna be.
"We should turn in," he continued as he started to move to put the fire out. "Got more trainin' ta do tomorrow."
"I'm glad you did," she said softly and he looked up at her as the fire died before them. He could still see that damn smile, even in how little light was left. "Come back, that is."
Without another word, she got herself up and seemed to settle in for another night of sleeping on the ground. His eyes watched her actions, completely unaware that he was watching her so intently until she had settled herself in for the night. Snapping himself out of it, he did the same, even as her words echoed over and over again in his head, all the way to the sun started to rise the very next morning.
