Daryl stripped off his vest, with its familiar wings on the back, sticky with gore from the walkers he'd butchered. His jacket came off next, underneath the muscles in his arms were bulging from the recent physical exertion. A little bit of heat poured into Beth's face, but he didn't seem to notice, so she didn't look away.
His sleeveless shirt was fairly clean, having been protected by the outer layers of clothing. He ripped one side of it, leaving it hanging open and revealing the tattoo on the back of his shoulder. She'd often seen the edges peak out through his clothing, but this was the first time she saw it in full; two demons reached towards one another from across his right shoulder-blade. All over his back he had a number of old raised scars, like lashes from a belt.
Over the last few years she'd seen countless baths of blood. She'd witnessed acts of violence and brutality that sent her crying into the corners of her mind. She'd grown used to it; carved out a place for horror in her soul where she could think about it and accept it without letting it terrorize her. Daggers through the eyes, skin between teeth and charred flesh didn't make her squirm anymore, but for some reason looking at Daryl's old scars chilled her.
Carol and Daryl were close, and Beth had wondered on occasion if their closeness had anything to do with similar demons in their pasts. Carol never made her husband's abuse of her a secret. Beth had met Daryl's brother before he died; Merle had the stink on him too. Someone who was supposed to love these boys had hurt them bad.
Growing tense and anxious as he finally noticed her staring at his body, Daryl twisted the ripped fabric in his hands, looking at her sideways.
Scooting closer, she reached out, "Here, let me," Beth took the impromptu tourniquet from his hands, all caked with dirt and walker gore.
With effort, he straightened out his injured leg. She dug her fingers into the hole of his trousers and ripped it just enough that she could make sure she was covering the whole wound with the tourniquet. She tied it the way her daddy had shown her as Daryl put his jacket and his vest back on.
They were soaked through and the rain seemed to keep coming down, stronger than ever, but it felt amazing. Beth tilted her head back and opened her mouth, swallowing the drops of rain to wet her throat.
His hair was flat against his head and the tracks of blood were washing clean off his face as the rain continued to drench him. He sat hunched over on the ground, taking on the demeanor of a dog, unhappy at being bathed.
"You alright to walk?" Beth tried to calculate how far away from Terminus they were, it would be downhill, at least.
"I'll be slow, but yeah."
"What do we do once we get there?" She wanted to have a plan to get the others out, but what Daryl really needed was stitches and time to heal. Then again, the others couldn't wait; they had to get them far away from Terminus before any of them were killed.
"We go to where Rick hid the guns; if the stash is still there, then Sasha either couldn't find it or she didn't make it…" he shook himself, wiping his wet hair off his face. "If the guns are gone then that means she's got the weapons to them and they're planning to fight their way out. We got to be there to back 'em up. Even if Sasha got the guns, she could've got caught. If Terminus has those weapons now, it's up to us to change that."
"How long's it been?" Beth looked up at the sky, it was dark now, but it could have just been the rainclouds, it was hard to say if the sun had set or not.
"Long enough that we don't have time to sit around, 'specially since we been layin' down all damn day." In spite of this declaration, Daryl didn't move to stand up. It hadn't exactly been relaxing, being slowly crushed under a pile of corpses, but it had saved their lives, so she wasn't about to complain.
"Well, let's get on then!" Beth slapped both her knees and helped Daryl up to his feet. He shifted to try putting weight on his leg again and nodded as he was able to take a single, halting step.
Beth knelt down and felt at the tourniquet to make sure it was staying firmly in place. Tipping her head back, she caught raindrops on her cheeks. His eyes met hers and he brushed at a smudge on her face, his fingers slow and unsure. He tried to step away but she caught him. Gently, she touched her lips to the tourniquet.
She felt that same urge that had almost bowled her over when she first saw him in the train-car; she wanted to be with him, wanted to feel him close to her. She couldn't know how he would react to her throwing herself at him, but she had the feeling they were both about to find out. He froze solid the moment she'd kissed the tourniquet.
She took a hold of each of his arms and got back to her feet. For days, she felt like she was connected to live-wires. It was always time to act, to jump, to fight or be killed, she hadn't gotten much time to really think, though she'd tried to during her confinement in the hospital. Every second was dominated by a desire to run, or hide, or just survive a little longer. Even now, they weren't through it yet. They were headed right back into the fire.
Beth Greene was never going to get another moment to think again, at this rate. Drawing in a deep breath she gave herself the space of that steady inhale and exhale to take it all in. For the moment, neither of them was dying and they were together again. Like he'd always done, he threw everything he had into protecting her. "Last man standing," she said with a smile.
He didn't return it. Slowly, Daryl moved his head back and forth, "Stop." He wasn't joking.
The pain in his eyes was enough to make her feel ashamed. She couldn't help but think it; he was so good at living in this world.
"If I was alone. Again…" he trailed off looking down at the space between them. "I wouldn't've made it without you," he grumbled.
"It probably would have been easier without me," Beth tried to correct him with a little logic that she'd pulled out of her ass, "you wouldn't have had to bury me first, you could've just covered yourself in walkers and—"
"Stop," he said again. "That's not how it is. That's never how it is. After that car drove off with you…" he backed away from her unsteadily, his bad leg smarting visibly as it shook.
She stepped forward and grabbed a hold of his shoulder to keep him upright. He seemed torn between pushing her back and keeping a firm grip on her for support.
"After he took you, I just ran. I chased that road until my legs gave. I don't even know how far—" he cut himself off with a groan as he nearly stumbled, trying to take another shuffling step away from her. "I was there in the middle of the road when these guys come up on me, all predatory. I knew they were probably gonna kill me and for a minute, I didn't care. I just let 'em right up close."
She could see it in her mind's eye; his shoulders rounded, the wings on the back of his vest dropping inward, flightless, his head bowed and his bow down.
"I snapped out of it," he shrugged with the arm that wasn't stiff against her shoulder, "But hell, Beth. Alone? I'm lost. I'm just not a good enough reason to keep fighting."
She felt like she couldn't breathe again, like the weight of all those bodies was suddenly pressing down on her chest again. "You were my reason." Before she'd seen Tyreese, she'd pushed aside her hopes that the rest of her group had made it out of the prison alright. She wanted them to be alive, but buried the possibility, because it wasn't important right now; she couldn't know one way or another.
Daryl was a different story. She knew he was alright, because he had to be. The whole time she tried to find a way out of Terminus it had been with the goal of getting back to him. To hear that he'd come so close to giving up shattered her heart. Picturing a few years back, she remembered Maggie shouting at her with tears in her eyes when she learned that Beth was contemplating suicide. Finally, she thought she understood some of that anger.
Giving up wasn't allowed. "You were my reason," she said again, her eyes boring into his. "You've got to protect yourself as much as you'd protect me or Rick or Judith or Carol or anyone else, you hear me?"
Where's my 'yes ma'am'? He just stared back at her, blue eyes defiant; stoic and stubborn as iron, he still steadied himself against her shoulder with one trembling hand.
Setting both her hands around his waist she pressed her face into his neck. "Maybe that's just the way it is now. Maybe none of us are ever going to live for ourselves again." Her lips brushed right up against his skin. He was rigid at first, but gradually she felt him collapsing onto her, his arms slid into place behind her neck and around her waist.
"We've gotta go get to the others," said Daryl, but he didn't pull away, the rain was easing up around them, but by now they were both soaked and shivering.
"Yeah we do," murmured Beth. "They ain't gonna see us comin' neither."
"No reason in the world to think our sorry asses are still alive," he chuckled into her hair.
Rising to her toes, she pressed her lips against his, soft and light. "I'm so glad I found you."
Blood-loss robbed him of any blush she might have gotten to see on his battered face. Instead, he stumbled over a couple of half-words and finally managed to grumble out a, "Why'd you go and do that?"
In lieu of telling him exactly what he should already have figured out by now, she planted her mouth over his again, parting her lips slightly to invite him in. With that little bit of coaxing he gave in to her, massaging his lips against hers, as his hands made their way around her.
After a moment his breathing began to get labored and he pulled back, shaking his head as he took an unsteady step out of her reach.
"What's the matter? Is it your leg?" Her cheeks burned and she was light-headed; the question came out slurred.
"Leg's still a whiny little bitch," he muttered, "It ain't that." He swore under his breath and straightened up, turning away with a shake of his head.
"…Did I do something wrong?" she asked in a small voice.
"Nah," he assured her without turning around, "You're perfect." He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. Glancing over his shoulder at her, he gestured downhill a ways. "If I take advantage of you, how am I any different from that motherless bastard?"
She followed where he pointed, to the meatless, scattered bones still visible in the dirt; it was all that was left of Brady.
"How are you different?" she repeated back to him, her jaw dropped. "For a start, I like you, and you ain't a cannibal."
"It really boiled my blood, what he did. Tryin' to convince you that you need him—that you ain't never gonna make it without help—that you owe him whatever he might like from you." He wiped a trickle of rainwater from the side of his mouth, "I don't want you to feel that way about me. You don't owe me nothin'."
She whirled around to stand in front of him and gripped his belt. He tried to get out of her reach in time, but with his leg he was too slow. He groaned in defeat as she parked herself there, tilting her face back enough to look up into his eyes. "You ain't like him at all—back when it was you and me on our own, you protected me but you never coddled me. Never tried to control me. I remember, before I figured out what you were doing, I was so pissed at you!" she laughed and slid her hands around his middle again. "A walker would attack me and I'd wait for you to kill it, but you always took your time, forcing me to fight and get stronger. You ain't the kind of man who needs the people around him to be weak in order to feel strong. You protected me, you made me stronger and you never used me or demanded anything from me. You're a good man."
Shaking his head, Daryl looked at her sideways, eyes downcast, "Nah, I ain't. If I was any kind of good man I wouldn't be putting my hands on you like that; I know I ain't no good for you."
He still didn't get it. She was going to have to tell him. "I didn't kiss you because I'm grateful to you for savin' my ass a hundred times over. I kissed you because I've wanted to since just about the moment you rode up to my daddy's farmhouse on that motorcycle. I know I'm young—"
"It's not that you're young, it's that I'm a dirty old redneck who shouldn't ever be lookin' at you." Daryl tried to pull away from her again, but she wasn't having it.
"I don't even know how old you are—and I don't care, actually. Don't tell me. It don't matter." She was speaking right into his chest as she held onto him. "Maybe it started out as a stupid crush, but I'm not a little girl anymore. I'm a survivor, just like you." Worried that he still wasn't listening to her, she leaned her head back to catch a glimpse of his face.
His jaw was still set, but his eyes met hers, he looked torn. Inside he was being pulled in different directions. It wasn't enough that he wanted her, he needed to believe that it was alright.
"I'm a grown woman, Mr. Dixon. I killed two men today. I fought walkers. I'm getting pretty good with your crossbow. I proved I can hold my liquor," she grinned.
"The one time you got drunk, you burned down a house," Daryl argued but she could see the slightest impression of a grin fighting its way onto his face.
"We burned it down."
"Got me there, Greene." He leaned in, his forehead meeting hers, but he hesitated, she could feel him holding his breath, his heart thumping right up against hers.
The smile left her face; she thought she could read his mind again. If she didn't cling to him, he would push her away. He would think it was for her own good. If she wanted him, she couldn't let up, even though it wouldn't always be easy to hang onto him. But he was worth it. "I care about you. I want you. I love you. That's why I kissed you. That, and because we could get separated again, or trapped by another herd, or shot or crushed… we got more of the ugly and bad ahead. We're always right on the edge, and I don't want to lose you again without you knowin' how I feel."
One hand cupped her face, his thumb brushed along her jaw up to her lips, "That's how you feel?"
Turning her head, she pressed her lips into the hollow of his hand.
Still holding onto either side of her neck, he gradually brought his face right up to hers until their noses touched, his lips hovering just in front of hers. She could feel the warmth between them and closed her eyes, in anticipation. For several seconds he lingered there, teasing her. His facial hair tickled as he hovered, barely touching her.
Demons - Imagine Dragons