~Author's Note: It goes without saying that it has been a very long time since I have been able to update this story, but it makes my heart so happy to finally have something new to share especially during this festive season! This is a mostly quiet chapter that picks up right where we last left Daryl and Beth, but the story will soon see Daryl and Beth exploring new intimacies, especially after the innocent romantic interludes they experienced in this current arc that is coming to a close. And I can't express how much I appreciate anyone who comes back to read this story. Your love and support have meant the world to me through this journey of writing, creating, and keeping Beth and Daryl alive together in a world where they get to live! Wishing all of you who celebrate a Merry Christmas 2019 and a Happy New Year filled with all of the joy and love you deserve!~
Misty morning fog.
A cold dew formed droplets on the blades of fall grasses that would shimmer iridescent like thousandsof tiny gemstones when the first timid rays of sun reached down and kissed them.
But the haze of night yet ruled this time and place, the stillness before dawn, and obscured the archaically beautiful sanctuary, transforming it into something even more perfect, rarer than it could already claim to be. In the far distance, she knew it was there…knew it was protecting them, but Beth couldn't see the formidable timber fence. It was there, but sight unseen, she could pretend it wasn't. Sitting so close beside Daryl on the porch, white-washed boards beneath them nipping at the back of her bare legs reminded her just how alive she was. So close to Daryl their hips grazed, but they didn't hold each other, an innocence of sorts overtaking the moments.
Glancing down and contemplating the patterns cut into the dusty toes of her boots by melting beads of condensation, the quiet contentment of the life Beth had always wanted settled deep in a place she was so often afraid to allow to be touched by anything…especially those things that fit too neatly into the category of too good to be true. But this simple joy was too precious a thing to fear. Soaking in the sound of silence, the music ceased…the notes faded into the night hours ago, the food finished everyone having their fill, the last sip of lemonade…that sweet taste of summer's long goodbye in Georgia swallowed, the candles burned down to nothing but stubs in moonshine jars. It was an impossible fairytale somehow more real than anything that ever happened in her life before Daryl.
They'd walked hand in hand through the night unafraid, Daryl offering his arm to her at first like some southern dandy, but instead they fell to that familiar place where her hand fit so perfectly in his, just taking in the sights around them until their path led them to the steps leading to the door of a house that reminded her so much of her childhood home. Being together meant that sometimes nobody said anything at all, but that didn't mean that they weren't present…weren't right there beside each other, Daryl reminding her, leaning in and gently, ever so briefly touching his shoulder to hers, flashing a soft smile in the dark before quickly looking back to the horizon, waiting for a sunrise they wouldn't see. Shy…it was such a shy gesture, and Beth could see that endearing awkwardness in Daryl's sharp profile where his cheeks rose even as his grin receded, and Beth couldn't help dip her head down, smiling to herself.
Here they were, both so young in their own wasn't very hard for Beth to pretend. This entire magical night…it felt like all the butterflies and promise of the first date combined with that moment you realized your life…your future was embodied in one person, perfect if only to you. Their world didn't allow frivolity such as first dates, and she and Daryl, well, their life together had far passed and surpassed dating, but here he was courting her, as if time reversed itself when met with such an idyllic safe-haven. and Daryl had returned her to a semblance of home, surrogate it may be. In a place not so far removed from her heart, Daddy would've been waitin' up for her, waitin' to usher her through the door himself to make sure her innocence wasn't besmirched. But Daryl was a good man…Daddy saw that…would've seen it with her, and tonight it would be Daryl walking her through that door to keep her safe. Not yet though…not yet.
Sunrise. They'd seen so many sunsets together, enjoyed the beauty of the diminishing light when they were somewhere safe enough to embrace the coming darkness and rest that followed…but sunrise was rare. Not that it didn't happen, because it did every day, just that they'd never had the luxury to sit and watch it together. If they'd been holed up somewhere secure, protected through the dark hours, the first light of dawn kissed the day while they yet dreamed. Still so far…still hours away….they wouldn't see this sunrise either, but there was no sadness in that loss.
It was the tiny glowing ember floating through the air that first caught Beth's eye. The burning tip of a cigarette she realized only after…
"Hmmm-hrmph…" Wes cleared his throat before stepping from the shadows, his face barely discernable in the faint light cast from the lanterns burning dim on the porch behind them. Kind enough to make his presence known…although probably only to her as Daryl would've sensed him coming long before.
The ember danced away from Wes' lips, forked between two fingers made invisible in the dark, reminiscent of spent sparklers on the 4th of Julys of her childhood, burnt down to their dying light before Beth was ready to give them up.
"It's 'bout that time…well, past that time…to head on in and get the house locked up…"
Even on the most perfect night in the safest place she could currently imagine, reality didn't disappear…the truth of what was out there…nor did the instincts that kept people like Daryl and Wes alive. Beth couldn't picture whoever lived here before actually locking their doors at night or at all for that matter. But they weren't barricading doors and shuttering windows, just simply turning the deadbolt, and that precaution couldn't spoil the night. Not one bit.
"Let's go, kids."
Beth could almost see…more sense or feel than see…Wes sweeping his hands toward them, shooing them indoors, all in good-natured seriousness, and Daryl so close beside her hmmphed…half cynically, half amused no doubt at the kids remark. He was certainly not a kid; not old by any means either. Nothing less than a man in his prime. But despite his amused-cynicism, there was a truth to it in this life with him…the quiet moments, the learning moments, the first time any moments. There was such a childlike quality that Daryl embodied…a sweetness, a shyness, a sincerity.
Indeed it was just a simple locking of the door, Beth wondering if such lack of security measures made Daryl wary, but sure somewhere at the forefront of that survivor's mind of his, he had an escape plan well in place even if she wasn't party to it. He wasn't likely to leave anything up to chance.
"Looks like Camilla laid out some pillows and blankets for you…" Wes paused momentarily leaning up against the doorway between the hall and the living room where Daryl had guided her with a gentle hand low at the small of her back…nowhere near her scars as if he feared he might still hurt her.
Spying the blankets and pillows stacked neatly on the chair that accompanied the couch though didn't match, Beth was eager to cuddle beneath them, close to Daryl…warm, protected, love, yet longing for a bed of her own.
Wes left without much ado, his goodnight framed in the form of "You kids be good," and a teasing winkat Daryl. Whatever it was insinuating left Daryl scrunching his nose and half-scowling to conceal the blush burning beneath. "Lamps out in twenty…"
Nothing was gonna happen…not here. Truth be told, nothin' had happened for a very long time. Not since that night at the garage…the Busted Knuckles coincidentally enough, Wes' old garage. But Beth found herself filled with the most beautiful, nervous, tangled mess of emotions fluttering in her tummy…the way he was looking at her…hungry and shy in the same turn.
"You look so…" Glancing away and smiling through the words…not bold enough to look at her and finish what he was sayin' even if Beth would've allowed him to finish talking…
"I should change…get this dress off before I ruin it…it's not mine…" Beth stammered, feeling stupid in stating the obvious, unwarranted nerves stealing her tongue, shrugging Daryl's coat off and laying it aside.
Calming herself, smoothing her hands over the pristine cottonwhere it fell from her hips, Beth breathed deep. Still she abandoned every ounce of grace she might've ever possessed in the attempt to step off her cowboy boots so she could retreat to the bathroom where her own clothes waited neatly folded on a wicker hamper. Tripping on herself, seeing a hard wood floor ready to smack her in the face as she stumbled, failing to catch her balance…
But Daryl caught her…steadied her like he always did…always would.
"Come on…over here…" The smile may have faded from Daryl's face, but it still glistened in his eyes, helping her to the couch, nodding for her to sit.
It was never a small thing to be in Daryl's presencewhen he was being a protector, even if it was something so minor as protecting her from her own clumsiness. And here he was, going to one knee before her, rescuing her from her worn cowboy boots."I got 'em…"
Beth found herself caught between a moment of wanting to lift his head, sweep the fringe of hair out of his eyes, dipping down to taste his lips and just sitting silently and appreciating.
"Ain't it supposed to be the other way around?" There was such sweetness in the gravel of his barely there voice, quiet as if not to disturb the other occupants of the house tucked safely away in their own beds yet so eager for her attention.
"Huh…?" Beth heard him but didn't understand.
"Supposed to be the other way around." Setting her boot aside while gently releasing her socked foot. "Ain't Prince Charmin' supposed to be putting the glass slipper on Sleepin' Beauty, not taking it off?"
Daryl's eyes full of laughter and life as he shook the hair from his face; he wanted to be seen…not hiding a thing.
Beth couldn't control her escaping giggle. But she didn't have to. Didn't want too.
"It's not Sleeping Beauty and the glass slipper, silly, it's…" But she broke away from teasing, thinking on how much Daryl must not have known about fairytales…stories of princes and princesses and magic, the stories she was fed on a silver spoon as a child…that he might think she was mocking him.
Watching Daryl watching her so intently, grinning, taking her other boot in hand…
"Alright, Cinderella, let's get these boots off…" The slightest touch lingering on her leg as he placed her cowboy boot to rest beside its mate, Daryl once again proving that the book was far greater than its cover, just teasing her about Sleeping Beauty and the glass slipper.
He did know something about fairytales. And just for tonight, she could be the starry-eyed princess. Even in this world, there was still room for a small fairytale.
Yes…Cinderella. She was Cinderella tonight, in a borrowed dress…and she danced.
"You do dance." A quiet exclamation infused with all the music of the night.
Deer in the headlights…Daryl unable to stop his immediate reaction but quickly camouflaged it by a scoffing pfft as he broke from her gaze, dropping down from his knees to sit cross-legged on the floor.
"Just 'cause I danced with you don't mean I dance."
Despite the false gruff denial, Daryl looking up at her once more…Beth knew it meant something to him…that dance.
"Will you dance with me again someday, Daryl Dixon…? Whisper soft, embracing all the joys she hoped their life held for them.
No answer…just a look, but not just any look…
A night not so long ago but a lifetime past when Daryl left words unsaid…now…after everything, all they had been through…the intimacies of the body they'd shared, what was it in this quiet moment that Daryl couldn't…wouldn't say?
Beth's eyes shifted away, thinking that Daryl would've done the same, playing the game where shy eyes met and parted and met again until one of them laughed or said something, fools in love. But now…Daryl's intense stare never left her…intense maybe in the way that he needed her to understand the thing he couldn't…wouldn't say, leaving Beth nervous and fidgety where she sat on the couch.
"I…I should change…I don't want to ruin this."Nervous…damn, the things Daryl did to her. She already said that, but at least she didn't just say oh this time.
"Here…" Daryl snapped into the moment, quickly unbuttoning his long-sleeve and shrugging his shirt off his shoulders, holding it out to her. "So you don't gotta sleep in your clothes…"
The antique oil lamp Beth carried back with her was scarce light to maneuver through and unfamiliar house. Daryl must've turned his out while waiting for her.
"Come 'ere…" He beckoned to her, his voice a light in the dark where she'd all but lost her way.
To the couch…
To sleep…
They'd been keeping to the couch since they got home even though there were beds…
They still hadn't slept in his bed…their bed yet.
Grasping her by the wrist to both guide and possessively draw her near to him after she blew out the flame, Daryl was needy pulling her close on the cushions where he waited not so patiently. But Beth reveled in it, cuddling back against him, fitting perfectly in the form of him like she always did. Daryl's growl-purr warmed the bare skin at the back of her neck…breath that left her shivering but so very far from cold.
"I can't wait to get home." Beth whispered both for herself and to him, stroking his arm wrapped around her waist.
"Mmmm…" Daryl couldn't wait either, and he didn't even have to say a word.
"…and I can't wait to finally sleep in our bed…" So dreamily, Beth almost wondered if she was talking in her sleep or if life had just become such a dream that there was no concrete line that separated the two.
But the same could not be said for Daryl, gone rigid and still behind her although he tried to hide it.
"I ain't never had all that much need for a bed…" Resistive, the grit and gravel hid the anxiety Beth sensed coursing through this man who once proclaimed I ain't afraid of nothin'.
She'd know the truth to that for a long time…there were things that Daryl feared…but anxieties about sleeping in a bed with her? They'd spend long hours in a bed together when fate brought them back to the funeral parlor on their journey home, that is, once she finally convinced him to simply lay down beside her. But that didn't mean she couldn't try to entice him, drowsy as he was…convince him that a bed had nothing and everything to do with need…
"600 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets…" Imagining the first night he actually took her to their bed…slept beside her in that place that was all theirs.
"Hmmm…?" Daryl rumbled his inquiry, half asleep.
"The sheets I found today…yesterday…" It was well after midnight, so that happened yesterday, but they hadn't slept, so it still felt like today, a very long day but still today… "They're 600 thread count cotton…for our bed," Beth repeated.
"Got no idea what any of that means…except the sheets part…" Daryl's confession confessed no shame.
"Me neither." Her own confession. Truth be told, Beth could only imagine such finery. "I think it means they're really really soft."
Sleep was drawing her closer to heart, Beth's breath deepening…slow and steady but aware and entirely wanting, so focused on Daryl's hand slipping beneath his shirt she wore, warm…so very warm, palming her hipbone. Was he being forward…drunken in his sleepy state…?
No…not forward…nothin' but innocence in his caress.
"As soft as this…?" Not his touch…her skin. He meant her skin warming under his attentions.
"Softer…" Beth breathed.
"Ain't nothin' softer than this…"
Beth's drowsy smile, soaking up Daryl's loving praise…holding on to it as long as she could…where falling asleep could not be separated from falling further in love…
For who knew what dreams in life were yet to come…
"Never thought he'd give his wings to anybody."
Wes wasn't a threat, and his quiet country drawl should've drawn her in like a hug; Beth hated that she startled at it instead. She hated what the world had done to her, made her fearful and skittish even in this place where she was safe…this place that brought her peace. But she covered it well where she sat solitary at the side of the porch, legs dangling, toes skimming the tops of overgrown dandelion weeds. Beth had abandoned her boots…barefoot she'd dressed, padding softly across the scarred hardwood floors as not to wake Daryl.
She covered her fear by distraction…her own distraction, first trailing her fingers over the smooth-worn leather of his jacket and vest where it doubled over her breasts to comfort herself, then by hitching a thigh up on the porch's edge, turning around as best she could to face the kindly man. In the ever so brief space of time it took Wes to settle himself in the Adirondack chair, ancient knees creaking and complaining so loud even Beth could hear, and sip carefully at his cup of tea…coffee…whatever it was…steam dancing in the chill of the new dawned day, Beth contemplated Daryl's wings wrapped around her.
Never thought he'd give his wings to anybody…
She'd never seen anyone except Daryl don his wings, and it must've been much the same when Wes knew him…knew him before. And never having known Daryl without them, it was difficult to imagine and left Beth wondering how they came to be such an integral part of who he was. It was a story for another day. Unsure of whether or not it was a happy tale, Beth would tread carefully and not risk such a sublime morning. Besides, it was Daryl's story to tell, and she wanted him to share it with her, knowing when she asked Daryl, he would tell her. But just thinking on it, Daryl, at least in her recollection of him, had never been overly attached to earthly possessions. His vest though…maybe it was because his wings hid his demons, and not just the ones etched beautifully down his broad back. Yet he'd never hesitated in wrapping her in his protection.
Lost in the memories of a enchanting night worthy of any fairytale, and not just an apocalypse version…there'd been Daryl who before perching beside her on this very porch draped his coat across her shoulders, the sparkle in his eyes burning brighter than the lantern light that caught them. Still warmed from the closeness of their dance and the heat of all the people around them, it wasn't out of necessity because she was shivering…she wasn't. It was an act of chivalry…a gesture of love. And wasn't even the first time he'd given his wings to her.
This morning when she left Daryl sound asleep, Beth hadn't given a second thought to slipping into the coat's heavy warmth to fight the cool morning air. Maybe she should've thought on it…not been so comfortable in treating everything that was his as her own…
"But you ain't just anybody. You're someone. And with everything he's given you, a biker vest…even his wings…seem to be of little accord."
Those words broke her from her trance…so easily lost to the sweetness life gifted her…words from a man she'd monetarily forgotten existed at all…
Attempting first to say something in reply, but only succeeding in tripping over her tongue, all Beth could manage was a demure hmmph infused with a tiny, breathy laugh.
Wes filled the empty space…
"That smile…"
Leaving Beth even more at a loss for words, blushing prettily, comprehending the simple joy in his statement. Wes found contentment in the happiness Daryl found…her. He wasn't feeling one bit awkward but gave Beth a breath to compose herself, nodding to the unoccupied chair. She couldn't refuse it, sensing the stern father figure in him that was itching to chastise her and say she was gonna catch her death of cold sitting on the ground.
"Didn't expect any of you kids to be up and about this early after last night's revelry."
"Hmmm …" Sleep wasn't such a rare luxury anymore. They got to rest.
But for her, it was very different. The quiet serenitythat enveloped this place, and maybe the warmth of the company…the man sitting beside her eased Beth into opening up…or did she even realize it…what she was saying…these words that fell so effortlessly from her mouth?
"There was a time…not so long ago…I thought I was gonna miss everything…" It was there still living deep inside her just waiting for Beth to be too fragile to keep it at bay where it hid, quivering in the dark recesses, momentarily eclipsed by the light of inner hope and joy…evidenced only by the tiny quaver in her voice, an almost imperceptible hesitation. But it was there, waiting for her to name it…focus on it…break under its weight. Waiting for the instant she wasn't strong enough…caught unawares by the hold it still had on her…but…
Looking back over her shoulder to where she could see the couch that had been their bed, through the door left open to allow the fresh morning air to infuse the farmhouse …to where he was, Daryl, so often her strength, but now…just now he was her happiness. All she could see of him was his hand dangling over the arm of the inviting sofa, Daryl still lost in his world of slumber.
"…now I don't want to miss anything…this…" She meant Daryl first and foremost, but the entire impossibly beautiful…all the tranquility she was finding in life that reminded her of a time long gone, holding her close like the comforting hugs of her mother or the reassuring way her Daddy's hand used to cover hers…reminded her of the solace and love she knew in Daryl and the future she hoped for them…she meant all those things too.
"It's a wonder, ain't it? I come out here every mornin' just looking out over all this, and even knowing the world's all gone to hell…everything that's happened…everything that's happening…it's a miracle that allows me to believe that maybe today, nothin' bad will happen in my little corner of the world at all." Wes spoke without even glancing her way. Perhaps he wasn't speaking to her at all, gazing out over the sleepy settlement when it occurred to Beth that she might be intruding.
Wes' porch...Wes' morning ritual…
But he didn't seem to mind the intrusion…maybe even enjoyed the company.
"…maybe even a good thing, like yesterday. It might be nothin' in the grand scheme of things, but here…"
Yes…yesterday. Everything about yesterday was good…perfect. Today was gonna be the same. She willed it so.
"My Daddy used to have a place on our farm…he used to take me out there with him, looking down over our land and the creek that wound its way through it. It always felt like I could see the whole wide world from there. And he used to say 'Bethy…look at this place God has given us. How can we not have faith and hope when we see the wonder all around us. This is our piece of Heaven'. He always believed…"
Stopping…not really knowing why she was sharing any of this with Wes…her vivid memories of a time long gone…
Going back to that place of her childhood…so simple…so unafraid, seeing as far as a child could imagine the world reached, the spring breeze tickling her cheeks, the scent of rain heavy in the air, cool grass caressing her bare feet, boots kicked off behind her. Yellow dandelions dotted the rich green earth, Beth anxious and impatient for them to go to seed…counting down the days until they could carry away her wishes.
One day, Bethy, you'll bring your children here, and they'll know what heaven looks like too…
It made her afraid. Remembering made her afraid. Afraid for places like this…and places like her newfound home with Daryl…the fear that they were too fragile to last. Looking out over that land with Daddy, a place that had been home to generations of Greenes…a place she thought would exist forever, now lost. But she was fragile and she survived. That was hope.
Beth hadn't realized she'd closed her eyes, now worried he would judge her sentimentality as weakness, but opening them again, seeing Wes watching her, there was a gentle smile on his face…maybe not spread across his lips, but in the deep lines that framed his eyes.
"Your father…he was a Godly man?"
Somehow, Wes asking about Daddy didn't hurt, perhaps because he asked about who Daddy was, not what happened to him…nothing to claw at the wound yet healed, the sorrow of that loss still felt so keenly, perceptive enough to know Daddy was gone… like he understood it all. And it didn't seem to hurt her heart so much sharing with Wes, a man so very different than Daddy but who had the same steadiness, the same kind, calming effect that Daddy always had on her. He was like Daryl's father…the father Daryl deserved, and no matter where their future went, he was likely to be the closest Beth would ever have to a father-in-law.
"He was." More than just a Godly man, Daddy was a man of faith above all.
"If you're of faith and need to say a prayer, light a candle, or need some spiritual guidance, we've got ourselves a padre…"
NO…
Wes couldn't know…he didn't know…but a padre…a priest…a brother…no…Beth wouldn't name him…
"…and the church, it might just be a roof propped up by wall joists, but it's comin' along…got good strong bones. It's close enough to be called God's house." The words were there, full of pride…but distant to Beth as the veil between now and then lifted…
She was drifting back there…drawn back…no, nothing so gentle. Dragged back…no choice…no control…losing…
Heart lurching…frantic…pounding against her ribs threatening to crack them…
Drumming in her ears…deafening…
God didn't live there anymore…
God didn't live there anymore…
God didn't…
"Girl…?" A soft voice tugging at her…trying…a gentle hand placed on her shoulder…but it wasn't strong enough. She wasn't strong enough.
Arms wrapped tight around herself, realizing she was rocking…so unsteady…
A place of torment and sorrow…
A place of blood and pain…but not Christ's blood…her blood…
A place of regret and lost chances…
That church was no Sanctuary…
Every night Beth was cut…every night she bled…the realization cut just as deep…
God didn't live there anymore…
He couldn't…
"Girl…Beth? More urgently spoken, worried fingers digging painfully into the slender muscles of her upper arm gone rigid. Not unkind…necessary… "You okay, Beth?"
Eyes that never stopped seeing focused again on reality…her reality…not a waking nightmare that threatened to consume any small happiness. But this time, she didn't lose herself completely. She was able to escape the dark abyss of her past on her own.
"God doesn't live there anymore…" The words barely a breath across her kuos…just for herself…not for Wes whose hand still grasped her arm as if to steady her, sitting at the edge of his chair beside her.
…her lips that once spoke hopeful praise and raised joyous notes of song in a small country church as a child, light dancing through the one, antique stained glass window illuminating Jesus and the white dove perched in his outstretched hand…
Not anymore…
God doesn't live there anymore… It might not be the truth…it might've even been blasphemy, but it was Beth's truth.
Words meant to go unheard did not escape Wes though…
"Did you lose your faith?"
It wasn't as if he was judging her; Beth couldn't even say if Weswas a man of faith didn't matter, but he knew something was wrong.
Did she lose her faith? No. There was a big difference between losing something and having something stolen from you. But now, even that wasn't the case. Not anymore. It was complicated…or maybe it was simpler…purer, her faith…her belief…incorruptible as long as she had…Daryl.
Just then noticing her own warm fingers grazing the center of her chest, idly toying with the heart pendant at her neck…her touchstone, not clutching it in terror trying to ward off her tortured past, just gently, making sure it was still there. She was beating it. She was strong…
"Mmm …no, God doesn't need a house." The air tasted sweet, Beth drawing in a long, deep breath while the cool wind ruffled her already mussed hair. The tranquility all around her, she was unconquerable. Beth couldn't change the past, but she could do her best to control her present. "He's here all around us. He's in this autumn day. And faith…I almost lost it, but then I see the goodness in people…people like you, and I'm reminded…"
Wes gave her a half-smile, perhaps a little uncomfortable swallowing praise…not at all unlike Daryl.
"And I see heaven in that man in there…Daryl…he…" Beth's words trembled at the truth… "He's shown me what…he is…unconditional love. He holds all my hope…he's all my faith."
Silently appraising her for long seconds, contemplating, as if trying to decide whether or not to say what was on his mind…finally…
"That boy's needed you…been waitin' for you his entire life. Always needed you to take care of him."
What?
What wasn't Wes understanding? Maybe he had no way of knowing their entire story, that Daryl came after her, Daryl killed for her, Daryl rescued her, Daryl saved everything she was or ever could be.
"I…Daryl…" And she couldn't tell Wes the whole of it even if she wanted to…it was too much for anyone to bear. "Daryl's the one always saving me…protectin' me."
Wes sat up straight and tall, folding his hands in his lap, cocking his head to the side, appraising her with narrow eyes, Beth shifting nervously in her seat like a child about to be on the receiving end of a good scoldin'.
"You ain't stupid, girl, and if you even think you ain't takin' care of Daryl, you're dead wrong. He's always deserved someone to look after him…to love him, just had to be a woman with the spirit to show him how to accept it." Beth didn'tshy from the power in Wes' words. He knew Daryl, and so did she. Looking him in the eye, seeing her own fierceness reflected. "I think he always thought his scars were nothin' but a map to hell, yet somehow they led him to you."
"We both have scars…" Beth insisted in a quiet manner, lingering on that truth.
Wes wasn't talking about the memories lashed into Daryl's back, but neither was she.
Posting his elbows on his thighs, relaxing his rigid stance, leaning close to her like he was sharing a secret…asking a favor.
"Daryl, he's a tough som'bitch…been through the grinder in his life. Even so…even knowing how breakable the damn thing is, he gave it…his heart. You gotta take care of him. Be patient with him… 'cause he's never been here before."
Beth reached out touching the scarred and gnarled hand, much like Daryl's but marred also by the wrinkles of a lifetime, nodding her head, promising a father that she would love, comfort, and protect the son he never had.
Pathetic.
Dammit, what kind of survivor was he provin' to be?
Here he was, head peeking over the back of the couch like some dumbass turkey peeping over a log, brain no bigger than an acorn, just waitin' for it to get blown off by any half-wit hunter with a shotgun.
Fucking pathetic.
Cursing himself for not snappin' awake as soon as the house came to life…as soon as the first person started movin' about for the day. Now the whole damn household was up and about, and from the sound of it, it was a shitload of people. Craning his head, tryin' to see around the corner and across the hall to what must've been the kitchen where all the clamor was comin' from, hearing the one thing that was entirely unmistakable…Beth's laughter…Daryl threw himself unceremoniously back down on the couch with a heavy huff. Rubbin' the crusty sleep outta his eyes, he came to terms with the fact that his indignation had nothin' to do with survival, it had to do with pride…more specifically his pride, the fucking fear of looking weak. Afraid of appearing vulnerable more than he was actually afraid. How many people had pranced past, gawking at him sleeping? It was a wound that didn't bleed, but it stung…
He wasn't hungry, not truly like when he needed food so bad, insides so hollow it made him feel sick, or even worse, when the feeling of hunger went away all together. But the delicious aromas…sweet and savory all at once, one-hundred percent fine southern goodness wafting from the kitchen had Daryl's stomach rumbling and his mouth watering something fierce. Not needing, but wanting…craving. Ready to overindulge. Wasn't like he was one to get fat, but he sure wasn't opposed to tryin'!
Well, it was far too late to worry about looking vulnerable, resigning himself since he had no choice in the matter, cuddling the blanket…no, not a blanket, his coat, Beth must've covered him up with it…closer up under his chin. He was willing the morning away, trying to turn the clock back to night…a night where there was nothing to fear that could've actually hurt 'em. Could they have one more night like that? One-hundred more? A thousand? How much was too much to hope for? It seemed as though when moments weren't urgent…seconds of breath left weren't threatening scarce…Daryl was gettin' greedy.
Drowsier than he had any right or reason to be, the bare soles of his feet finally touching the ground…cringing a little from the cool hardwood, cool, not cold…trippin' over Beth's boots before he even made it fully upright…
Hmmphing to himself as he caught his balance.
Cinderella's boot…
Grinning like the Cheshire Cat…
Slap that smile of your face, Dixon, before you kill her and yourself…
The growling, ferocious beast who knew damn good and well how to survive jerked mercilessly at the chains that bound him…the chains forged link by link with every punch his old man threw, every scabbed-over wound the world then and now broke open, every moment he almost didn't make it out alive, every time he did and wished he didn't because someone else was hurt in his place, every time his fears came true…Beth…and all she'd suffered…
Rewind it back…toes cringing from cool floorboards, not freezing, not even cold, just cool…
Playin' fairytales with Beth…
Cinderella's boot…acting like some Prince Charmin'…
Not answering her question…Will you dance with me again someday, Daryl Dixon…? Not able to answer, as tongue-tied as he was the night he almost lost everything but knowing the answer damn good and well, knowing exactly when he would…
Carrying Beth through the door of what he hoped would be their home, too lost in livin' to be afraid of dying…almost getting both of 'em killed because he wasn't afraid enough to know how to survive. That moment, he started pulling away from any sort intimacy again 'cause it took him all the away back to the first time he let his guard down, couldn't hold the door…and that fragile, newborn faith and love tryin' to root itself deep in the beating breakable thing under his ribcage shattered in all the ceaseless moments it was forced to beat without her.
And her he was yet again fallin' further away from survival. If this was how they lived, this was gonna be how they died.
Dammit…this was how he wanted to live…live. And maybe in the end, that was all that mattered. What was so bad about that, a life well-lived and loved?
Somehow in all those deep and dire moments of self-scathing contemplation, Daryl found himself at the threshold between the hall and the kitchen, between the shadows of a corridor, once again somewhere in between, just a few steps from Beth bathed in the morning's radiant light like a beautiful beacon for a fearful soul.
Fuck being afraid. Being afraid of not being afraid. Fuck the door he couldn't hold. Fuck the past…
Some days you learned to live again. Some days you learned to live for the first time. Daryl had experienced all those things with Beth. And today…today had to be the day he learned how to live without reservation or fear because…just because they could. He could be a simple man captivated by the woman he loved…enchanting creature, so rare in her purity and natural sensuality….hips hugged by her worn jeans like she'd been poured into 'em, cupping that round ass. Wished his hands there in place of denim…caressing, no, grasping that sweet flesh…
And that tender spot at the back of her neck…eyes drawn there…fixated there…chewing at his lips 'cause they wanted to taste that silky skin that was never bare enough for the world to see, but just now, this mornin' visible 'cause her hair was still wrapped 'round her head in a messy wreath. Daryl didn't curse the ache in his loins. Since they'd been alone together on the last leg of their journey home, it stopped being so much about what he wanted to do with her…those he came to understand were just natural, normal desires. It was the fear of being in a place where there was nothin' to stop him 'til everything was right. But here and nowthere was absolutely no fear of going too far too soon. Anybody else might not've seen it as too soon, but Daryl wasn't everybody else. Never had been.
Even so, too soon was fading quick, and that was okay.
Three long, silent strides, reaching out without thought, fingers skimming the back of her neck, catching baby soft wisps of hair that had fallen loose from her braid tickling her skin…
…the most beautiful thing…she couldn't have sensed him coming in all the noisy chaos of the kitchen, but she didn't shy away. A once frightened, battered girl who not so long ago would've broken…gone somewhere dark and far away if caught off-guard…here she was, right here with him.
"Your halo's fallin' down…" Leaning in low, deep, breathin' hot behind her ear, the intoxicating fragrance of her hair that today was reminiscent of the hundreds of flickering candle flames that illuminated the night before.
Tipping her head down, so timid…so modest in accepting any sort of praise, Beth melted back into him, grasping his arms where they slid around her just below her breasts.
"Beautiful girl …" momentarily resting his scruffy chin on her shoulder, engulfing her, hiding her away from the rest of the world.
"Go on, breakfast is ready." That melodic lilt lingered, speaking the truth, but she didn't even begin to attempt to disentangle herself, neither of them wanting to join the others…rejoin a reality where anyone else existed.
But it was a pleasant reality to crash back into.
"Mmm…" Straightening, pulling back from her was self-imposed torture, not wanting to let go of Beth, her warmth, her scent, trying so desperately to drag the last hints of her away with him.
"Griddle cakes in bacon grease!" How long had it been since they actually had a real cooked meal like this?The excitement in Beth was answer enough to that, and while it was that idea of breakfast that had his stomach rumbling…
"Ain't what I'm talking 'bout…" His real needs could only be sated by Beth.
"You kids wanna join us? The milk's gettin' warm, the food's like to get cold, and the butter's starting to sweat…" And just like that, Wes reminded them that they were not alone, Beth scurrying away with the plate of sizzling hoe cakesleaving Daryl just a little abashed, turning towards the table where everyone was watching and waiting.
Self-conscious as he suddenly was…no one was staring to ridicule or to rib him or worse, thinking that Beth was too good for him…all things he might've dreaded but expected if he got with Beth under normal circumstances. But what was normal anymore? This was his normal. Striding over to the table where just one seat remained at Wes' left where he commanded the head and beside Beth who mingled so seamlessly with strangers, Daryl realized…this must be what it felt like…what he imagined it would feel like bringing a girl home to meet the family for the first time. This wasn't anything like his old life promised…not the girl part or the home part. Dixons didn't get girls like Beth. Dixons didn't bring people to meet other Dixons unless they were the same breed, and he sure in the hell would've never subjected Beth to them if he had any other choice. But those Dixons were all gone, Daryl again reminded that he was the last. Dixon was what he made it. And these people weren't his kin…not by blood, but they did feel like his people…seeing him as he always wanted to be seen...just recognizing the best in him. And Daryl was proud. Proud to stand next to Beth, she as his and he as hers…to be recognized as such. Proud of what he'd made of himself…his life.
The best in him…
"Beth…"
Daryl's crossbow slipped out of her grasp and bumped on the bench seat, tipping…she was able to catch it just in time before it crashed back into the dashboard.
"Shoot!" Ironically, that's not what his bow was doing at all, Beth herself balancing precariously halfway on the seat, halfway out of the truck, tiptoe barely touching ground.
"Don't worry, those things can't be destroyed that easy." Wes promised from where he'd paused his approach.
Beth knew that…that Daryl's bow was damn near indestructible. It had bludgeoned more walker skulls than she could count, but it was Daryl's and just by the merit that it was his, she respected it.
Before turning her entire attention to Wes, Beth first glanced to where Daryl was perched in the bed of the rusty truck securing a few crates of supplies to add to what they'd scavenged the day before. These were gifts of generosity…things that couldn't be scavenged: milk, cheese, honey. Luxuries.
It was time to say goodbye, but something came before that…something that caught Beth unawares.
"That place you went to earlier…I've been there too, well, to my own there."
She was only a scarce few inches from Wes when she turned to him and got her feet planted firmly on the ground but could've sworn if there was more space between, the world-wise man would've been digging his booted toe into the gravel to avoid. In any case, he was carefully considering his next words, Beth left shaking her head trying to comprehend.
"'Nam…just a wet behind the ears kid from the backwoods of Georgia. I was older than you by years, a man in my own rights…but I didn't know what was what yet. Guys had it far worse than me…had to do things I couldn't even fathom…" So reflective, words gone soft until they faltered entirely.
Beth figuring out 'Nam…Wes meant Vietnam…but she didn't know why or what she was supposed to say, so she just listened.
"I knew how to survive…lots of guys knew how to survive…made it back stateside. But just 'cause we survived don't mean everyone actually came home."
The tiny glimpse of what he must've suffered as a young man…it tore at Beth's tender heart, but Wes wasn't looking for sympathy.
"That place…yours and mine, even though they're different, they're the same…"
Beth understood. She felt him…who he was and what he'd been through, fighting an unbidden tear and biting her lower lip to stop herself from saying anything fueled by too much emotion. He recognized in her something he knew in himself…those moments invisible to everyone else…the traumas that defied time and space and threatened to steal who you were.
"I go back there still, but now I've learned I can always find my way home." There was no defeat in his admission, rather the pride of victory. His hesitant words that came before were merely haunted by the ghosts of the past, and Beth knew more than anyone just how hard confessions were to share. "You know how to come back too. You might not realize it…but you know how. It's a war and it's scary, but I promise, the battles get easier. You're strong...if you need a reminder."
Beth nodded, not speaking now because she couldn't. But the weight of the burdens she carried, the moments she almost lost herself, feared…didn't feel so heavy knowing someone else out there had been to that place too. Determination welling in Beth to do the same as Wes… her story of survival would be on her own terms.
The goodbye hug came unexpected; it felt like Wes might've had something more to say but instead pulled her tight and close, instantly returned to his jovial countenance.
"And make sure to bring this stubborn som'bitch around every so often." Wes finished a conversation they hadn't even been having, Beth realizing Daryl reached her side only when Wes pulled Daryl into the hug too. He'd been avoiding the topic to spare her Daryl's knowledge of what they shared…that she almost went away again. "Just 'cause you aren't staying don't mean you aren't part of us. You're family."
Breaking from the hug, Wes still held them close, a gentle hand laid at the center of her back and an arm slung around Daryl's shoulders, Beth able to see Daryl dip and nod his head in acknowledgment.
You're family.
Family was rare.
Family was precious.
Beth didn't need anyone more than Daryl, but it was nice to be part of a family again.
"Now before anyone goes gettin' all emotional…" Wes joked to cover what was really there, entirely monopolizing the farewell, going now for the invaluable item sitting on the hood of the truck that had gone unnoticed. "We don't have much in the way of ammo to spare, scarce as it's getting. I had some shells for that old shotgun that Daryl grabbed out at the garage. But I got this for you…"
Extending it to her, Beth hesitated, appraising the bow…rich, dark wood polished to a bright patina. Not a crossbow. Nothing so fancy or modern as the weapon Daryl wielded. Just a bow…but…
Taking it, Beth allowed herself to caress the smooth, slick finish.
…it was her bow…
"Daryl'll be able to show you how to use that, being a master of primitive weapons. I swear, when he was young, you could give this kid a stick and a whistle and drop him out in the middle of the woods, and he'd come back with enough meat to put a Thanksgiving feast to shame."
Beth smiled at the small insights into Daryl's life before and praise for the man Daryl was. But she was enthralled by the bow. She'd had guns…leftovers that no one else needed or whatever she was able to pick up and fight with. She'd had knives…Daryl's, her own at her side, the knife Daryl gave her that always stayed tucked safely in her boot where no one could see…a knife with which she'd taken life to save hers. But she'd never had a weapon that felt like her own, not really. Never had a weapon that defined her. But this one…somehow Beth knew this one would.