Make Way For The Dream Team
Beth's eyes shot open, but the blackness still consumed her. The Governor's cold and emotionless voice was still echoing in her ears.
A second later, it faded away. The absolute silence returned. Colors and shapes dribbled into her vision, filling everything around her like liquid pouring into an empty glass. She gasped for air and relief flooded her system as sweet, sweet oxygen entered her lungs once more. Her throat felt raw and her neck burned like it was chaffed, as though she'd been the one wearing a noose. Her head raced and throbbed painfully, the ache gradually ebbing away as she blinked and took in her surroundings and inhaled one deep breath after the other.
Daryl's face was the first thing she saw. He was directly in front of her—well, more like above her—and inches away from her face. He was staring down at her, pale and distraught. The feeling was coming back to her body and she realized she was lying on the hardwood floor of Merle's old bedroom. She registered one thick arm cradling the back of her neck while a separate large hand gripped her upper arm. Daryl was holding her head up off the ground with one arm while his other hand grasped at her bicep, weak and trembling.
Then she saw Merle. He was on her other side, crouching down to loom over her much like his living brother. And to her surprise, there was a similar expression of shock and fear on his face. Though it immediately changed the moment he saw her eyes open and heard her gasping for air. He let out a sigh of relief and stared down at her with a look that she couldn't quite interpret—something between indignation and concern.
For the first couple of seconds after The Governor's voice faded out and her vision returned to normal, Beth couldn't hear anything at all. She saw Daryl's and Merle's mouths moving, but there was no sound. She couldn't even hear the air around her head or the light buzz that constantly filled every room she'd ever occupied. Then it all returned very rapidly.
"—you hear me?! Beth!" Daryl's voice was frantic and more high-pitched than Beth had ever heard it. He was lightly shaking her, urging her to respond. "Christ, say somethin'! Please!" There were tears pooling in his eyes and his cheeks were ghostly pale.
Merle didn't seem to have been pleading with her to wake up quite as desperately as his brother had. Like he somehow knew what she'd been experiencing. His tone was nowhere near as panicked—though it was shaky and uncertain all the same. "Blondie—Greene, you back with us?! You here again? Daryl's 'bout ta call nine-one-one an' I know you can't afford that ambulance bill."
She had to swallow hard past a knot in her overly dry throat, and her lips were painfully chapped, but she managed to croak out in a rasping voice, "I—I'm fine. I'm fine."
Was she, though? Whose voice was that ringing in her ears? Why did she black out? All she could remember was trying to reach out for Daryl before falling backward. Now she was on the floor and both Dixon brothers were freaking out.
Daryl breathed out with relief but didn't relax. "Fine? This ain't what I'd call fine. You got low blood sugar or somethin'? Was it a panic attack? Did'ja faint? I was about ta call an ambulance—should I go ahead an' call?"
Beth blinked rapidly and shook her head, struggling to find strength and push herself up to a sitting position. Merle leaned away and took a step back, though his eyes remained set on her. He seemed to be studying her, tongue in cheek as he squinted and gave her a scrutinizing once-over.
"No," she told Daryl, accepting his help when he offered his arm as support for her back while she sat up. "Don't—don't call anybody, I'm okay. I… what happened?"
"Yer eyes rolled inta the back a yer head an' you fuckin' fell over," Daryl said. "Ya nearly cracked yer damn skull open—scared the shit outta me."
"You saw somethin'," Merle chirped. "Didn't ya?"
Beth looked at Merle and he smirked, nodding his head. She blinked, frowning.
Did she? She couldn't remember. But she had a feeling that he was right. It was like waking from a vivid dream only to forget every single detail of the dream two seconds later; she knew she'd dreamt, she knew she'd experienced something because of how heavy her chest felt and how raw her throat was, but she simply couldn't access the memories. As soon as she'd opened her eyes, whatever she'd seen—wherever she'd gone—had slipped through her fingers like smoke and dissipated just the same.
She shook her head, as if that might kickstart her brain into remembering. But all she could recall was the blackness.
"Yeah," Merle muttered. "You saw somethin' good… I can feel it."
"I don't…" She let out an exasperated breath, allowing herself to lean against Daryl's arm while her strength slowly returned. "I blacked out, I guess."
She shut her eyes for a long moment and felt Daryl's arm slipping away from her back, his hand releasing her bicep, and without thinking, she reached out to grasp him for support. He obliged and she placed her hand in his, leaning on it heavily as she stood up. He wrapped a strong, broad arm around her lower back automatically, assuring that she could stand and steadily balance on her own two feet. His face was still pale, but the color was beginning to slowly return to his cheeks. His dark blue eyes remained wide and watery.
"Sorry," Beth apologized, gripping Daryl with both hands to retain her wobbly balance. Her entire body felt like it had just been electrocuted or something. And Merle's ominously knowing gaze wasn't helping to alleviate the sensation. "I didn't—I didn't mean ta scare you. I'ono what happened…"
"You know exactly what happened," Merle said.
"'S fine," Daryl said. "Jus' wanna make sure yer really okay. You sure I shouldn't call somebody?"
She shook her head. "No, no need ta call anybody." Then she glanced at Merle to find him quirking a brow, arms crossed over his chest expectantly.
The weight in her chest grew heavier and her heart sped up, though she wasn't sure why.
She shut her eyes tight and silently told herself, Get it together. It's a Gift, not a curse. What did I see? I touched the bullet hole, I went somewhere else. I saw something. Remember. Just remember. I have to…
She opened her eyes again and looked at Merle.
A quiet voice that was not her own whispered to her from somewhere in the back of her mind: Here's not here.
And suddenly, it all came rushing back to her.
For a split-second, she was bombarded with a slew of images: Merle's lifeless body swinging from a rope, the cold and calculated glint in The Governor's eyes, the dim glow of the single bulb as it illuminated the noose around Merle's neck. She remembered the deafening gunshot, the crack of the butt against Merle's skull. She remembered every single word that had been spoken, every humorless laugh that had echoed within the small cabin, every movement and exchange between The Governor and Merle. She even remembered the way the setting sun had looked as it filtered in through the bedroom curtains.
Her blood went cold and a jolt of electricity shot through her bones, jarring her whole body. She grasped onto Daryl for balance once more and his arm tightened around her back, a bit surprised. He gazed down at her, still very visibly concerned.
Her face must've gone pale because Merle was eying her suspiciously.
"What'd ya see, Greene?" He asked. "Huh? What'd that Gift show ya?"
She looked up at Daryl and he instantly registered the solemn and slightly fearful expression on her face. A crease formed in his brow and she could feel his arm tensing at her back, his grip loosening on her bicep. But he didn't pull away. His other hand remained grasped in hers.
"Wait—I remember," she breathed out, no louder than a whisper in the silent bedroom. "I remember the whole thing. I saw it."
Daryl appeared even more confused. "You… saw it?" He repeated. "Saw what…?"
Beth pushed past a quickly forming knot in her sore throat and croaked out, "The murder. I saw it. I saw who killed Merle."
Merle made a huff of audible shock, eyes widening as they stared at Beth. Then a smirk of smug satisfaction curled his mouth upwards and his arms tightened across his chest, shoulders squaring with vindication.
"I knew ya saw somethin' good."
Daryl was a little harder to read. His face fell and he stiffened, looking Beth up and down like she'd grown a second head. Then she saw his adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard.
"Who was it?" He asked, eyes dark with trepidation.
She squeezed his hand and replied quietly, "The Governor."
Merle laughed. "What?!"
Daryl stared down at Beth, even more confused than before. "Like—the governor governor? Of Georgia?"
Merle laughed harder.
Beth quickly shook her head and explained, "No, not an actual governor. He—he didn't say his name, he just called himself The Governor."
Merle scoffed and rolled his eyes. "That's not a name. 'S barely even a title."
Daryl still looked befuddled. "I don't—okay, but'cha saw 'im, right? Clearly? You saw 'is face?"
Beth nodded. "Yeah. I didn't recognize him, though. He said he used to work in Senoia, that he knew yer dad, but other'an that—"
"Wait," Daryl said. "He knew my dad?"
"Doesn't surprise me," Merle muttered, sucking on his teeth and eyeballing Beth with renewed interest.
She felt Daryl's body stiffening against hers and he was reflexively pulling away just the slightest. She squeezed his hand again, though she didn't try to pull him back toward her. She could balance perfectly fine on her own again and all the normal feeling had mostly returned to her muscles by now.
She hesitated, glancing at Merle to see the expectant look on his face before looking back up at Daryl and finding the same expression. But she remembered how Daryl had reacted when she'd delivered the message about Merle killing their dad, and a part of her feared a similar reaction to this news. She didn't want to see him shut down again. She didn't want him to lash out. She didn't want to see him hurt.
But he had to know.
"Can we sit down?" She asked.
He quickly nodded and guided her over to the bed. They both sat down on the edge of the brand new comforter, side-by-side with their thighs barely touching. His hands retracted to rest in his lap. Merle remained where he stood a few feet away, waiting and sucking his teeth impatiently. Beth began wringing her hands together, tentatively meeting Daryl's gaze once again.
"Sure you feel alrigh'?" He asked, concern still etched into his expression.
She nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine now."
He gave a clipped nod and pursed his lips. She could see the curiosity prevalent in his eyes and in the way he looked at her, like he was silently urging her to tell him whatever it was—no matter how painful it may be. He seemed to be tensing up, subconsciously preparing himself for the emotional blow.
Beth licked her dry lips and forced herself to maintain steady eye contact. Then she said, "The Governor said he used to go ta some bar outside town—whatever bar yer dad frequented. He said they got to talkin' and eventually… well, he helped Will plan the fire."
Daryl blinked but his face went blank.
Unable to gauge his reaction, she quickly continued, "The Governor helped set up the insurance plan, he helped pay for it. The whole thing was his idea. He said his job was to sell insurance, but he didn't make enough money in Senoia. So he made a deal with Will to split the money—they planned it all out, started the fire an' made it look like an accident… You an' yer mom were supposed ta die because it would've made for a really big insurance payout."
Merle was completely silent. He turned away, as though he had something more interesting to look at on the other side of the room.
But Daryl's face was still blank. He blinked but his lips remained tightly pressed together. His jaw was clenched. Beth raised her eyebrows, giving him several seconds to say something—to say anything.
When he didn't show any intention of opening his mouth, she went on: "Your dad skipped out on him, took all the money an' went off the grid ta live in this cabin. He was hiding from The Governor, Daryl. And The Governor couldn't find him—till Merle killed him. The obituary gave him everythin' he needed ta track Merle down."
She paused, expecting some sort of reaction. But there was none, just the same blank face.
So she continued, "He wants to know where the money is. The Governor is convinced that yer dad kept his half of the payout and stashed it somewhere, 'cause it was way too much fer Will to have spent it all… That's why he killed Merle—because Merle wouldn't give it up. The Governor hung your brother and made it look like a suicide because Merle wouldn't tell him where the other half of the insurance money is."
Finally, Daryl's blank expression flickered. He turned his head and gazed over at a spot feet away. Beth wondered if he had any idea that he was staring at the exact place where his brother had taken his last breath.
Then he mumbled, "How much money?"
She could hear the unspoken words beneath his tone: How much money were me and my mom's lives worth? And Merle's?
She took a shaky breath and responded, "The payout was a quarter-million. The Governor thinks half of it is hidden somewhere."
Daryl grunted but didn't say anything.
"But," she quickly added, attempting to sound optimistic. "Merle swore he didn't know anything about it. He wouldn't even say whether it really exists or not."
Daryl slashed an arm through the air and turned his head back to meet her gaze, blue eyes narrowed. His face was quickly turning red and the anger was evident in his tone as he snapped, "So ask 'im! Ask that dead fuckin' asshole if the money actually exists!"
Beth was struck silent and looked over towards Merle. She opened her mouth to ask him, just as Daryl demanded.
But before she could voice the question, Merle disappeared.
You fucking asshole, she thought, turning back to Daryl with hesitation.
"Well?" Daryl urged. "What's he say?"
Beth frowned. "He… disappeared."
"What?!" Daryl leapt up from the bed furiously, looking around the room as though he would suddenly be able to see his dead brother and kick his ass. He growled in frustration and glared down at Beth. "He fuckin' told that Governor asshole ta come find me, didn't he? I know it—that selfish prick sold me out ta save his own ass. Twice! He sent a goddamn murderer and a demon after me! Didn't he?!"
Beth gaped up at him in shock, glancing back over at the spot where Merle had been just seconds ago, hoping he would reappear and offer her some assistance for once. But she knew better than to expect any help from him.
She knew it would sound like she was trying to defend him again—much like back at Morgan's, when she'd excused Merle's thoughtless deal with Papa Legba as nothing more than ignorance. She knew Daryl wouldn't like hearing about any part of the scene she'd witnessed. Nonetheless, he had to know.
"No," she said firmly, mustering up all of her strength and channeling it through her voice. Her hands were trembling in her lap, but her tone remained steady and sure. "It's the exact opposite, actually."
Daryl's fury dissipated and his jaw clenched. He stared down at her with obvious doubt.
"When The Governor realized Merle wasn't gonna give up the location of the money, he threatened to track you down," she explained as calmly as she could. "He said he'd kill Merle and then kill you, too. But Merle told him that you didn't even know about Will startin' the fire—he tried to convince The Governor that you had no idea the money had ever existed. And when The Governor didn't believe him, Merle lied: he said you'd died, but when that didn't work, he said you ditched him an' left the state ta move to Chicago or Detroit… somewhere far away."
The last traces of Daryl's anger faded away, leaving him standing before her with slumped shoulders and a look of bewilderment.
Beth raised her eyebrows and lowered her voice, eyes set on Daryl with intensity as she added, "He died tryin' to protect you, Daryl. Merle did everything he could ta keep The Governor from huntin' you down… and The Governor killed him anyway."
Daryl let out a deep sigh and turned away, shaking his head. She thought she could hear him choking back a sob but she couldn't be sure. Her heart ached for him all the same.
"You were right," she added, making a weak attempt at lifting the mood. He was refusing to face her and that made her uncomfortable, but she didn't know any other way to lighten the blow of all this new information. "The bullet hole—it wasn't from Merle's gun. The Governor had a Colt .45. He made a warning shot at the wall. An' you remember that cut over Merle's eye? It was from the butt of a gun; The Governor cracked it over his head after he fired the warning shot. He knocked Merle unconscious an' put zip-ties around his wrists and ankles while he was out. And he… he strangled 'im. That's what those bruises an' fingernail marks were from. The Governor lost his temper an' choked Merle while he had the noose around his neck…"
Daryl still didn't turn around. His back stiffened, shoulderblades rippling beneath his winged vest.
"It wasn't the rough sex," she remarked, weakly smirking even though he wasn't looking at her. "But…"
"Y'saw all that?" Daryl grumbled without turning around, barely loud enough for her to hear. "Jus' from touchin' that hole in the wall?"
Beth cleared her throat and said, "Yeah. I guess so. It was like when we touched the crystal ball an' watched the deal with Papa Legba. I touched that bullet hole an' then it felt like I was bein'—I'ono, electrocuted or somethin'. Then I blacked out and… I saw all of it. I watched The Governor show up an' interrogate Merle. I watched Merle try ta fight back an' fail. I—I watched Merle die." She paused and swallowed hard, trying not to envision the scene as she described it. "The Governor kicked the chair out from underneath 'im. He watched Merle hang. He didn't—he didn't care, Daryl… This guy is out of his mind. He's pure evil. He's desperate."
Daryl put his hands on his hips, literally giving Beth the cold shoulder. Though she could read his reactions even without seeing his face.
Her voice came out half-choked as she added, "He's terrifying. I—I'm scared of what he might do."
At that, Daryl finally spun around and faced her. His face was hard with determination, azure eyes narrowed and set on her.
"Fuck that," he growled.
She blinked and gave him a questioning look.
He nodded his head curtly, jaw squared, and reiterated, "I'on't care who this fuckin' asshole is, we ain't gonna be scared of him. We're the terrifyin' ones."
Beth cocked her mouth to the side, half-tempted to smile. She looked up at him with slight disbelief.
"Don't look't me like that," Daryl growled. "Yer a goddamn psychic, an' I'm a mean redneck with one hell of an extensive weapons collection—this Governor prick oughta be scared of us. Let 'im come knockin'. We'll put 'is ass in a lake with cement shoes."
At that, Beth did smile.
Then another memory popped into her head and a fresh wave of dread washed over her. She asked, "Yer phone—is it the same one you've had fer the last couple months?"
Daryl furrowed his brow in confusion but nodded. "Yeah, why?"
Her smile faltered and she said, "He called you. From Merle's phone."
Daryl's face fell. "That day…?"
She nodded weakly.
He cleared his throat and immediately reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. She watched as he scrolled through it with squinted eyes and pursed lips. When he noticeably tensed a moment later, she knew he'd found the missed call.
"Few days 'fore I came out an' found 'im," he mumbled. His thumb hovered over the small screen as he stared down at it, an almost wistful expression on his face. "I missed it… I was workin'. Didn't… didn't leave a message."
"It wasn't Merle that called," Beth clarified, her stomach twisting into a knot at the sound of Daryl's guilt-ridden voice. "It was The Governor. Thank God you didn't answer—he was tryin' ta prove you were alive, tryin' ta figure out if the number saved in Merle's phone was still yours."
Daryl's eyes flicked up from his phone to meet hers.
She went on, "Merle tried to lie an' say it wasn't yer number anymore, but The Governor didn't believe him. There were only two numbers saved: yours an' his dealer's. The Governor copied both of 'em. He has your phone number, Daryl."
Daryl nodded curtly and said, "An' we got a call from him on the same day Merle died—so it's evidence."
"No," Beth snapped. "We aren't that lucky. It's from Merle's phone, so how could we ever prove that it was his killer? Fer all anybody else knows, it was just Merle tryin' ta call you one last time before he hung himself."
Daryl's mouth twitched and he glanced back down at the screen, tapping it with his thumb to brighten it back up.
"We don't have any evidence," Beth said. "That's the problem. The Governor knew that nobody would second guess it if Merle committed suicide. He knew the authorities wouldn't care, and he knew that Merle didn't have anybody ta give two shits about him besides you… I saw The Governor's face and his limp, but that's it. We don't even know his name."
Daryl grunted. "So what? A face is enough. A nickname. We'll find 'im. Won't be hard."
Beth made a sound of disagreement, a bit incredulous.
"But can we find him before he finds you?" She squeaked out, swallowing hard and trying to retain her courage. The fear was building though, and she wasn't even sure that Daryl was fully grasping why she was so afraid. "He didn't find what he was lookin' for here, but now he has your phone number. An' I'm pretty sure he knows you still live somewhere in Georgia—he might even know you're still somewhere in Senoia. He's gonna come lookin' fer you, Daryl. He's gonna try ta kill you… just like he killed Merle."
Daryl scoffed and waved a hand dismissively. "Let 'im. Be the biggest mistake he ever made."
Beth sighed, reluctantly remembering how Merle had said something all too similar right before being hanged. She stood up from the bed.
"I think we need ta go tell Rick what we found out," she said.
Daryl took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest. "An' how ya think we're gonna do that without soundin' like a couple'a tweakers?"
Beth shrugged. "However we can. He's a pretty understanding guy."
Daryl quirked a brow. "Pretty understanding—when it comes ta normal shit. Not shit like seein' visions of people gettin' murdered."
She rolled her eyes.
"'S Merle back yet?" Daryl asked, glancing around like he might be able to catch a glimpse of his dead brother.
"No," Beth answered. "But we don't need him fer this. He can't even remember dying."
"That's what he says," Daryl quipped. "How you know he ain't lyin' jus' like he lied to The Governor?"
She paused, bristling. She couldn't answer with full certainty because, Lord knew, Daryl had a point. He knew Merle even better than she did, after all.
But then again, she had a very strong feeling, which she vocalized: "I don't think that's the part he's lying about."
Daryl grunted and it almost sounded like an agreement. Then he jerked his head toward the door.
"Let's go talk ta Rick then. If somebody's gonna come an' try ta kill me, we best give the sheriff a heads up."
to be continued...
