A/N: Yay, another update! Finally, we're closing in on the safe zone again. New plot twists, a return to Team Family, and what we're all here for, more Bethyl goodness. Gah, I'm so excited to be moving the story in this direction! Thank y'all so much for sticking with Feral and with me. Thank you for the support and the love. :D
After three days, the truck was starting to feel cramped. Beth shifted against the passenger door restlessly, shooting a longing glance out the back window towards the bed. Her hands were tucked inside her sleeves, her fingers digging into the fabric as she pressed them together on her lap, her knees drawn up and her boots braced against the dash. The worn collar cradled her chin, tickling her lips as she turned and dipped her head down a little, watching the road wind ahead of them. Or what little she could see of it between the rain and the dim glow of the headlights.
Water was falling in bent sheets, splattering against the windshield like wet bullets, pounding on the roof loud enough to drown out any other sound. So loud, in fact, the she could barely hear herself think. Maybe that wasn't so bad. Nothing she'd thought of lately had been doing her, or anyone else, much good.
Something was nudged against her elbow. She looked down to see a wrapped granola bar being offered to her. Her eyes flicked up to Aaron's as he held it out to her.
"Eat something, sunshine. Gonna be a while before we stop again," he said.
She nodded and took it from him wordlessly. The oats were tasteless in her mouth as she chewed, watching the torrent blacken the trees from her window. She nibbled on one end of the bar, propping her elbow on the other forearm. The muscles in her calves flexed as she gently rocked her heels back and forth, the toes of her boots staying balanced on the dashboard. Aaron shifted next to her, holding his injured shoulder forward while pressing his weight back on the other against the seat. With his good arm, he flapped the map in his lap, flicking out its edges before smoothing it over his thighs and tracing over its surface with a finger.
"If we keep up with the backtracking, it'll be after midnight before we get to the gate."
Daryl hummed a noncommittal rumble from his side of the truck, one wrist casually propped on top of the wheel as he chewed on his thumbnail. Aaron looked over towards him with a slight frown.
"You're thinking longer?"
Daryl dropped his hand from his mouth. "I'm thinkin' we ain't takin' the truck all the way up. Park it."
"And walk how far?"
"Couple miles, maybe."
Beth only half-listened, folding the wrapper over the partially eaten food. She wasn't hungry. She was restless. Her fingertips ticked against one another in a mindless rhythm as the wet road steadily fell away under the truck. For the first time in nearly a month, her head felt empty. She wanted to bask in it, wrap herself in the blank darkness and just breathe. She wanted to savor the quiet stillness in her skull for as long as it lasted, because she knew that it was fleeting. No questions, no memories, no dreams...it was a state of being that was highly prized, and all too brief.
And decidedly not perfect.
Although her head was silent, her body wasn't. Her senses felt as though they tingled. Every smell, every sound, every touch was like static, sharp and prickling. Where her mind was untroubled, her gut was a tight coil. Her legs were practically vibrating now, their tempo speeding up as she pushed the balls of her feet against the dash, her heels clicking on the plastic before retracting again, faster and faster as the miles slid them closer to the safe zone. She wanted to pace, to run her hand in a line around the cab and map out by touch the confines of her mobile cage. Her instincts screamed entrapment even as the quiet in her mind attempted to hush them.
It was strange.
And it made what should have been a comfort into a kind of torture. She'd been looking for ways to shut her thoughts out again, like she had when she'd walked with Morgan, and now that she had it, for however little time she had it, she could have wished it away. Because it made the churning in her belly worse, made her more aware of her surroundings and as long as she was in that truck, she wanted to be anything but.
Thinking, not thinking, it was all jumbling up on her now. Her breath gave a tiny hitch as the tightness swirled up through her chest, catching in her throat. Her fingers tripped into a faster beat, unconsciously matching the soft tap of her boots as she pulled her lower lip between her teeth. Her body was curling in on itself, her shoulder folding forward as she hunched over her legs. The thud of her heart was a hard thump against her ribs. Her skin itched.
As if sensing the unrest in her, Daryl changed hands on the wheel and reached behind Aaron to firmly tug on her hair, making her momentarily freeze. "Get outta yer head, woman, we need eyes up here on the road."
She almost snapped at him that she wasn't in her head, that it was part of the problem, but she held her tongue still. It wasn't an argument she could successfully make, partially because she wasn't sure it was even true.
Beth felt his eyes on her, watching her profile as she stared hard out of the windshield. With clenched teeth, she tried to will the sensation crawling up and down her body away, but it clung to her bones like damp grass. She could almost smell her own anxiety, pungent and harsh, irritating and compounding the feeling that racked her body, a feeling that she couldn't name. It was like she couldn't catch her breath.
Abruptly, Daryl swerved the truck to the side of the road, where several trees hung low branches above the narrow road, creating a tunnel of rain-dark colors.
Jerking his head towards her, he said in a low voice, "Get some air."
She didn't fully understand the phrase, but she got the meaning that he wanted her out. Shoving her door open, she swung her legs off the dash and onto the slick asphalt, ignoring the hard drops suddenly pelting her shoulders. Slamming it shut again, she strode towards the back of the truck. The wave of relief that washed through her was so strong that it left her limbs feeling like rubber, leading her to just let the tailgate fall instead of lowering it like she normally might have. Dampness soaked into her jeans as she sat down, her legs dangling in the air. The trees provided shelter from most of the rain, allowing only stray droplets to slip through their leaves. They splashed in her hair, catching in the pale strands then sliding coldly down beneath the collar of her sweater.
The sound of the driver's side door opening and shutting was a muted echo, followed by the muffled shuffle of boots. She kept her head down, watching the tiny ripples appear and break apart in the puddles on the highway. The truck shifted under her, a warmth spreading along her side as Daryl sat beside her on the tailgate. There was a click and the scent of cigarette smoke flooded her nostrils.
For a while, how long, she didn't know, they sat with neither of them saying a word. Beth didn't look up and Daryl didn't make any attempt at trying to get her to talk. She appreciated that. What could she have said anyway? She had no idea what had been going on in the cab, had no words for it. It hadn't been fear, exactly. Something else, something just as unsettling, but sharper, the edges harder as the feeling had shot through her body, scraping her insides like talons.
Finally, she saw the smoking butt of his cigarette land on the ground in front of her. She heard him exhale before he spoke, his voice warmly gruff, like sun-chapped leather.
"You ever think 'bout before?" She glanced at him from the corner of her eye as he rolled he stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "Before Morgan?"
Unsure of where he was going with the question, she turned to look at him fully, her head dipping in a slow nod.
"Sometimes."
There was a pause before he asked quietly, "You remember much 'bout Grady?"
The question made her frown. The name was familiar. It's syllables, as low and drawled as he said them, brought the feelings from within the truck back like a sledgehammer.
I sing...I still sing.
Stuffed heat, dark and suffocating as her nails tear into metal. Shrill shrieks that she can barely hear over her own screaming. Pain, blackness, dying, help, getoutgetoutget-
Blinding sunlight, then shadow, blocking light, revealing it again. Gulping breaths, scrambling out of the dark, eyes too wide, can't blink. The road is hard under her knees. Gagging, coughing, another breath. A bottle is pressed to her mouth and she drinks greedily.
"Ya got a name?"
She watched him lick his lips. His features had drawn back into an expression that seemed pained. Something rose in her, a desire to ease that look, to comfort, so she leaned her weight against him. Her shoulder bumped gently into his and she rested her cheek against the sleeve of his jacket, ignoring the cold dampness on the fabric that chilled her skin. She felt more than heard the shuddering breath he let out. She stared down at the road, waiting.
But when he stayed silent, she started talking instead.
"Don't 'member much," she admitted softly, her brows drawing together. "Remember bein' made wrong...'member the dark...and the heat. Woke up in a trunk hurtin'. S'all."
"S'nough," he said and she felt his chin brush the top of her head. "Reckon tha's wha' was buggin' ya in the truck. Gettin' kinda cozy in there."
She hummed under her breath and shrugged. She didn't know. It was possible. Probable. When she lifted her head, he still had that same expression, like he was thinking about something bad. It looked like a hard memory.
Like a regret.
"What?" she asked, reaching up to brush a hand through his hair without a thought.
He seemed to shake it off, whatever it was that was on his mind. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and reached up to wrap his fingers around hers.
"Nuthin'." He tipped his head back towards the window. "Think you can stand bein' in there a lil while longer?
She squeezed his hand in an affirmative and brought them up, rubbing her cheek against the back of his knuckles like a cat scent marking. Her eyes met his, a weird flutter erupting in her chest at the intensity reflected in the bright blue. She swallowed hard as he moved his hand from her loose grasp and threaded it through her hair. He gripped them tightly as he searched her face for a long moment, tugging with a light pressure, just enough for her to feel it. It was an odd thing to her, and yet natural, the way it made everything in her body relax, as if that tension was a trigger that loosened the coiled, negative feeling that had been a lead weight in her gut.
She reflexively moved closer to him, leaning into his touch and his fingers spread until he was cupping the back of her neck with his palm. His gaze drifted over her and she felt it like a physical caress.
"Beth," he said roughly, his voice gravelly.
There was something fierce in the way he breathed out her name, in the way he looked at her, almost covetous, but tempered with something she couldn't find the words to describe. It made her features soften, flood with a heat that made her skin flush. They held that look for a long moment. The air between them felt heavy with something neither of them could say but they both could silently acknowledge. There was comfort there, and affection, and a want that threatened to make her breathless.
Abruptly, he dropped his hand, releasing her.
Taking a deep breath, she hopped up, her boots splashing in the puddle under the gate. He straightened up and reached down to push the gate back into position with a hollow clang.
"C'mon," he rasped, giving her a light shove in the middle of her back.
She followed the direction, walking around the side of the truck and climbing back into the cab. If Aaron had a comment, he kept it to himself, his head bent as he studied the map in his lap. She touched his arm, making him look up with a slight smile. There was a knowing look in his eyes, and a question. She tipped her head towards his, her lips twitching in response. She was alright.
She glanced at Daryl as he started the truck again, a warmth blooming in her chest. He'd made sure she was alright. He always made sure she was alright.
She'd make sure he was too, she promised herself as the truck lurched forward again. Whatever it took.
