Dixon vs Everybody
"What's yours?"
Daryl was looking at her again. Beth turned her head to meet his gaze, furrowing her brow thoughtfully for a moment while he waited for her response.
Then she shrugged. "Don't got one."
He frowned. "Ya mean yer still figurin' it out, too?"
She shook her head, lips loose from the moonshine that was coursing through her veins. She felt no reason to try and speak with her usual sugar-coated optimism. "No. I just… don't have one. Maybe I never will. I dunno."
His frown deepened and his brow creased in disappointment. "How so?"
Beth heaved out a sigh of exasperation. Daryl held out the bottle for her to take, and she did. But she didn't lift it to her lips. She wrapped her hand around the neck like it was an anchor to earth and gazed down at it, mulling over all the unfiltered thoughts currently rattling around inside her skull.
Then the confession poured from her lips, "I don't know. I really don't. I could say my dad an' my brother are my reasons, or Maggie, or the farm. But that'd just be bullshit. 'Cause my dad won't be around much longer anyway, and I've always been the baby of the family, so it's not like Maggie an' Shawn would miss havin' to look out for me."
She saw Daryl opening his mouth to interject, but she cut him off before he could.
"And I don't mean they'd be happier if I wasn't around—I'm not some emo teenager anymore. Yeah, they're part of the reason I didn't wanna die. And they still are. But that doesn't mean they give me enough reason to… live."
She glanced up in time to see him tilting his head back and staring down his nose at her, as though he were studying her in a new light. Then he gave a brisk nod to show that he understood.
So she went on, "Before the diagnosis, I was an honor student. I played softball and I sang in the choir and I had all my credits lined up so I could graduate a semester early. I was already fillin' out applications to my dream colleges. I could've gotten a full ride on all the scholarships I qualified for. I had a group of friends that I talked to about everything, and a boyfriend that I thought I was gonna marry an' have kids with someday." She paused, a reminiscent smile ghosting across her lips for just a second. Then she huffed out a humorless laugh and averted her gaze towards the distance, away from Daryl's dark eyes. Her voice lowered. "And then I had to fill my mom's place in the family and take over all her duties. And all the other stuff just kinda… fell apart. First, I had to quit softball. Then there wasn't any time for choir anymore. And the next thing I knew, my straight A's were turning into C's and D's and I couldn't sleep or eat or keep up with all my chores. I didn't have the time or energy to text my friends back. I broke up with my boyfriend 'cause I didn't wanna hold him back… And by the time Mama died, everything had gone out the window. I was lucky just to graduate on time. I fell so far behind that I almost had to repeat senior year. I didn't even bother sending in the college applications, 'cause I didn't qualify for any scholarships anymore and Daddy had to spend all his savings on… everythin' else."
Beth paused and cleared her throat. Daryl was sitting silently, though she could still feel his gaze on her. She could see him watching her from the corner of her eye. And from what she could see, he didn't appear to be looking at her with pity. Which was surprising. In a relieving way.
She let out a sigh and finished, "It's kinda funny, too… 'Cause now I look back, and I can't even remember what my big plan was. What I wanted to do with my life, or why I thought I could do anythin' at all. Some days, it takes everything I've got just to get out of bed. I dunno how I expected to ever find my calling or whatever—a real purpose outside of filling my mom's shoes. I can't even imagine my life away from the farm. Away from my dad and Shawn. But I know I could never do what Maggie does. I could never just… go it alone like that."
As soon as she finished, Beth put the bottle to her lips and tilted it back. The moonshine burned her throat, but it was becoming a lot more bearable. Or maybe she was becoming more numb.
When she lowered it and swiped the back of her hand across her mouth, Daryl grunted. He was still studying her with a somewhat curious expression on his face.
"Guess we're both codependent," he said.
She wasn't sure why, but a laugh bubbled up and burst out into the quiet night air. She tried to stifle it, but it only made her laugh harder. Daryl smirked and reached over to grab the bottle out of her hands.
"Sorry," she said, still smiling as she composed herself. "That's not actually funny."
He shrugged and took a swig of moonshine. "Kinda is."
She hmphed and rolled her eyes. "In a really depressing way, maybe."
Daryl shrugged yet again, grasping the bottle loosely beside his leg. "We're both still here, aren't we? Still chuggin' along. Even though we don't know what direction we're s'posed to be chuggin' for."
Beth chuckled. "Yeah…" The lightness in her chest receded momentarily, and she admitted, "I've felt… aimless. Ever since she died. Like I'm goin' just to go, but there's no actual destination to justify the journey."
She glanced up to see his eyes darken right before he looked away. His hand clutched the bottle a little tighter. "How's that old saying go? It's about the journey an' not the destination, or some shit?"
"Mmhmm," she hummed.
"Well it's bullshit."
"And it sounds like whoever said it had a purpose for their journey," she agreed.
He snorted. "Right."
"I dunno. Sometimes, I wonder if I'm just not tryin' hard enough. Or lookin' in the right places."
"Or maybe it don't matter."
She looked at him quizzically, but he didn't return her gaze. He just shrugged.
"All'm sayin' is, I've always felt aimless. No destination, whatever. Even when Merle was layin' out my day-to-day life for me. Felt like we was… just driftin' with the wind. Nothin' was ever permanent. Only thing that stayed steady was his addictions. Think he pro'lly liked it that way. Guess that's where we're different…"
That's not the only aspect that's different, she thought.
"It was alright fer a while. I wasn't gonna complain. Not like I had any other choice." He sighed, and his shoulders sagged. "But it ain't enough fer me no more. I got a steady job, a place to call home, a couple people who give a fuck whether I live or die. I can go anywhere I want now… But I got no fuckin' clue where to start. 'Cause it still feels like I'm gon' end up in the same damn place no matter what. Whether my brother's leadin' me there or not."
Beth blinked. "So what's the point?"
His expression hardened, but not in defiance. It was more like resilience. Persistence. And when he responded, there was a determination in his voice that she'd never heard before.
"Point is, it's my choice now. Whatever direction I go is gonna be 'cause of me an' nobody else. Might be aimless, but at least I'll be free. An' maybe I'll be a little happy, too. Knowin' I'm finally livin' fer me an' not some dead, ungrateful prick. Even if it's true what my pa drilled into my head, and there ain't no place on earth made fer me—who's stoppin' me from makin' my own damn place?"
"But what if there really is no place for you?" She didn't know where these questions were coming from. They were just pouring out, uninhibited and unfiltered. "What if you're never able to make anything meaningful outta yer life?"
Daryl's brow creased and he stared back at her for a moment. Studied her. Then he said, "Meaningful to who? To me? Or everybody else?"
She didn't have an answer for that. She shrugged meekly.
He grunted. "What do I gotta prove? I got some legacy to uphold that I don't know about?"
"I guess not," she mumbled, dragging her eyes away from his.
She could feel him staring at her. Studying her some more. Looking right through her. She knew he was practically reading her mind, because surely it was more than evident in her expression and tone, but she didn't want to acknowledge it.
Then he said, very definitively, "Nah. I ain't got shit to prove… Neither do you. You heard what Morgan said—'bout that service bein' the price you pay fer your place on earth. He said it was bullshit. And he's right."
Beth flicked her eyes up to meet his and asked, "But how d'you know?"
Daryl shrugged. "'Cause I do. Spent too many years believin' the world owed me somethin'. Now I realize I woulda saved a lotta time if I coulda just accepted that the world don't owe me a goddamn thing."
She frowned, looking back at him expectantly.
He went on, "It doesn't. Nobody owes me shit. Just like I don't owe the world anything. I didn't ask to be here. I ain't got no direction meant fer me. Just a will to survive. An' that's alright." He paused, scoffing. "That's where they get ya—people like you an' yer brother an' sister. Everybody puts it into yer heads that you gotta do somethin' big with yer life; gotta break some barriers an' make some history, and sacrifice everything you fuckin' got just for a taste of that pie in the sky. Like there's some uncarved path yer s'posed to take, and if ya don't, you just didn't work hard enough, or want it enough. Didn't do enough of your part to carve out that path, even though it was prob'ly never meant fer folks like you anyhow."
Beth blinked. But she nodded. Because she agreed. Shit… she really agreed. He was voicing all the ideas she'd always suppressed. All the thoughts that had never felt justified; he was justifying them for her.
Daryl waved a hand dismissively, as though he were waving off all of society. He continued, his tone grown scathing, "The fuck's so wrong with just livin' a simple life an' bein' happy with what'cha got? Why's everybody gotta fight an' sacrifice an' suffer just to find some fuckin' peace in this world? Ain't it enough to have a safe place to call home and some food in yer belly? A few good people you can call friends and some hobbies that make ya happy?"
She smirked and mumbled, "No, it's not enough. Not for everybody. Not for people who've never had to worry about where their next meal was gonna come from."
He gave a clipped nod and narrowed his eyes. "Yeah. People like you—always had a warm bed to sleep in, a parent you could count on, a whole farm full'a food."
She looked away, suddenly ashamed.
But he quickly added, "That's the problem, ain't it? You think 'cause yer sister went off to the city an' did somethin' big—somethin' professional and grown-up—that you gotta follow her lead? You had a whole plan fer yer life. Worked at it since the day you could start imagining a future… wanted ta be some perfect wife with a perfect career and a perfect home and a couple'a perfect kids. Somethin' yer folks could be real proud of."
Despite the moonshine, Beth could still feel the shame growing larger. She couldn't meet his eyes. She just shrugged and mumbled, "Yeah. Basically."
"Yeah, well," he said. "Life don't work out like that. Maybe you will end up gettin' some fancy career. Or maybe you'll stay on the farm fer the rest of yer days. Who cares? Only thing that matters is that yer happy. That you're satisfied with your life. I don't see why you gotta do big things. We only got so much time to live, might as well enjoy it as much as we can. It's only a waste if you ain't havin' fun."
She pursed her lips and hesitated, gazing off thoughtfully. "Are you having fun?" She whispered.
He didn't respond for a second. Then he muttered, "Yeah. All things considered. Never took much to make me happy, though."
She met his eyes and said, "I just wanna help people. That's all I've ever wanted to do. But I don't think I'll ever be a nurse like my mom, or a veterinarian like my dad. I can't even imagine havin' a real career. Leaving the farm. Moving away and startin' a whole new life. I don't want to imagine it. I've always been the happiest here… At home."
He raised his eyebrows and she thought she could see the slightest hint of a smirk playing on his lips as he said, "So… do it."
"Do what?"
"Help people. Here. If you don't wanna leave, what reason is there to force yourself?"
"I can't do anything if I stay here for the rest of my life, though. Who am I gonna help if I never leave Senoia?"
He shrugged. "Yer helpin' me. And Merle… And yer just gettin' started."
She looked away, mulling over his words. Just getting started? How was he able to speak so confidently?
"Shit," he muttered, chuckling. "If Merle ever taught me anything worth remembering, it was that you gotta lower yer expectations every once in a while. Life ain't gonna go as planned. No matter who you are. Gotta learn to settle with what you can get."
There was a beat. She was thinking of her daddy. Of Dale. Of Rick. How their lives had turned out. And how it most certainly hadn't been anything like they'd planned. Yet they seemed happy all the same.
Then she met Daryl's gaze once more and asked, "What if I don't wanna settle?"
His smirk disappeared and the crease in his brow became more prominent. He stared back at her for a moment. A long moment.
"Then don't," he said plainly. "It's all up to you."
She glanced away. "How do I tell my dad that I can talk to dead people? How do I tell my brother that my purpose is helping lost souls cross over? If that is my purpose."
Daryl was silent for at least a full minute. Beth didn't really expect an answer. If anything, she was simply voicing her own insecurities. Letting them pour out vocally rather than writing it all down in her journal. But he answered anyway.
"Why's it gotta be yer purpose? Why're you tryin' so hard to let this shit define who you are?"
She looked to him with surprise, her expression conveying her curious confusion.
He turned his head back to gaze out towards the horizon. "You wanna help people so bad—well, here's yer chance. You wanna stay on the farm, ain't nobody pushin' ya out. You wanna be like yer sister? Or you wanna be like Morgan? Or you wanna be somethin' in between those two extremes?"
He paused and let the question sink into her skin. She stared down at her hands, at her fingers wrapped around the neck of the moonshine bottle.
"It don't matter, girl," he concluded. "Do whatever ya want. Be whoever ya want. Nobody's stoppin' ya. Nobody's rushin' ya. And nobody else has ta live with yer choice… 'cept you. 'S all about what makes ya happy. Even if it takes a lot less to make ya happy than you thought it would."
"But what if it's not enough?" She asked.
He scoffed. "Hell… you've already seen The Other Side. You know what comes after all this mess. And do ya honestly think any of this shit actually matters? Has anything you've seen given you the feeling that you need to do more? Like you gotta earn yer place here—and there? Or was it more like, 'shit happens and then you die, hope you tried yer best'?"
She hesitated briefly before admitting, "I don't know. I really don't. This whole thing… it's like…" She reached up and fiddled with the cross hanging around her neck. "It's like God's testing me on a subject I didn't even know I was s'posed to be studying for."
Daryl hmphed and said, "Welcome to the club."
She shot him a smirk and he added, "'Cept I didn't even believe in God till this shit happened. 'S all new territory fer me."
Beth offered a look of sympathetic agreement. "Yeah well, it's got me questioning everything I was raised to believe, so I know what you mean."
He grunted and reached over to snatch the bottle away before lifting it to his lips for another small shot, all while gazing out towards the starry horizon. Beth took the bottle back but didn't take a drink, choosing to let it sit between her legs instead. The quiet settled between them. She could practically hear the gears turning inside his head. Or maybe she could sense all the emotions he was feeling.
Either way, his silence was palpable; heavy with unspoken words. Yet the tension that would normally be present was nowhere to be found. Thanks to the alcohol in their bloodstreams, she reckoned.
She couldn't speak for Daryl, but the moonshine seemed to be taking its effect on her own mind. Because a small part of her was suddenly itching to forget whatever they'd been talking about and stand up and grab the speaker and put on some music she could dance to. Under the moon and the stars. Even if Daryl thought she was stupid. She had a random urge to push all this painful shit away for a little while and just… enjoy being alive. Carefree.
But then he spoke, low and hoarse, with his eyes still set on the distant storm clouds.
"Said you saw my mom somewhere in that old man's memories today… what all'd you see, exactly?"
Beth looked over at him with surprise, but he wouldn't meet her eyes. She could see him tense up, his shoulders stiffening and his jaw setting hard.
The alcohol was really starting to make her head swim, but she'd been replaying those memories all day long. They were burned into her brain. She couldn't forget the details if she tried.
Yet the words wouldn't form. She was searching for the right way to describe it and coming up empty. Her silence made Daryl turn his head, giving her an expectant look. Though there wasn't much optimism in his expression.
He frowned. "Ain't never seen you cry like that after usin' yer… Gift. I know it had to be bad. But… how bad was it?"
Beth swallowed hard and forced her mind to remain grounded. Because she very badly wanted to let it drift up towards the clouds right now, and the liquor was making her head lighter than air.
"It wasn't just seeing your mom that was so upsetting," she explained. "It was… everything. I dunno how to explain it in a way you could understand, but all I did was blink my eyes, and I went somewhere else. For years. And almost everything I saw was painful. It—it was like experiencing somebody else's suffering first-hand. Bein' forced to watch it happen through their eyes and knowing you can't do anything about it."
"I couldn't try to understand it," he said plainly. "Wasn't askin' why you broke down. I know why. Might not understand, but I still get it… All I wanna know is how she looked. If she seemed happy."
Beth's breath caught in her throat and she wanted to tear her eyes away from Daryl's, but she couldn't. Because they were so bare. So open. So vulnerable.
She could see it in his face. Hear it in his tone. He was begging her for a detail—any detail. Just a simple reassurance.
He was praying she hadn't seen his mama at her worst.
If it weren't for her alcohol blood level, Beth might've teared up. But she managed to fight it back and respond, "She looked beautiful, Daryl. She was pregnant with you. And when she talked about you, she smiled. And her eyes sparkled… Just like yours."
He turned his head away before she could see his reaction. And his shaggy hair hid his face from view. But she could see his shoulders tightening, his back flexing with a deep breath in and out. His hands balling into fists atop his thighs.
Then he very abruptly reached over and snatched the bottle from her hands, tilting it back and draining the last two shots' worth of moonshine. All she could do was watch, frozen, unsure of whether she should say anything. He tossed the empty bottle out into the darkness. It landed in the grass several feet away with a soft th-thunk-thunkk-thunkkkk.
He cleared his throat and shook his head, still avoiding her gaze. "Don't let it go to yer head, but I fuckin' envy you, Beth Greene."
Beth was too shocked to do anything but laugh. She couldn't fathom why he would say such a thing. She couldn't even form a response. She just kept staring at him. Perplexed.
He shook his head again. "I mean it. 'Tween the family an' the house an' all the fuckin' opportunities you got that I ain't ever had. An' on top'a all that… you get to be the one to see my brother after he's dead. To help him cross over to his final resting place. You get to be the one who…" He paused, and she thought he might've been suppressing a sob, but that was silly. Because she was almost positive that Daryl Dixon didn't cry. He quickly retained his composure and finished, "You get to see my mom. The way I always wished I coulda seen 'er… and you get to remember it."
Shit. Beth's heart panged with a deep guilt. Deeper than anything she'd felt thus far. If it weren't for the shots of moonshine, she was almost certain that there would be tears streaming down her face right now.
Yet she couldn't feel anything except numb disappointment. It was a stark reminder as to why she hadn't revealed too many details earlier in the day. Because she already knew that Merle and Daryl's mom was a sensitive subject. And deep down, she already felt guilty for witnessing that memory of Leanne and having no way of sharing it with Daryl. She could only imagine what it must be like to have no memories of your own mother past the age of eight. Leanne Dixon's face was probably barely more than a blur in Daryl's mind by now. And Beth wished she could change that.
But at the same time, she would never wish her "Gift" on anyone. Not even the Dixons.
"Daryl, I'm so sorry," she started.
"Don't be," he interjected. He finally turned his head and looked at her, a stony coldness set in his features. "Ain't nothin' you could change. You didn't choose none'a this… neither did I. 'S just the way it worked out."
"But you should never be jealous of me—"
He scoffed. "I'm not. Not really. 'S just how I always been. Ever since I can remember, I been jealous of other people. Folks like you an' yer brother an' sister. Can't help but feel a little envy once ya realize everybody else grew up with electricity and running water."
Beth snapped her lips shut, but she had a thousand more apologies waiting on the tip of her tongue. She was trying to gauge his reaction first, though. And oddly, he seemed indifferent. She couldn't detect any resentment or bitter anger. Just a hint of sadness. Like he'd already accepted it years ago. Like he was just… over it.
He let out a sigh that affirmed her assumptions and turned away. A few seconds later, he was reaching into the back pocket of his jeans. She watched curiously.
He pulled out his wallet and opened it up to retrieve a folded piece of plastic. But, no—it wasn't a folded piece of plastic. It was a photo. The same one she'd helped him find. The same one he'd pulled out and placed atop the crystal ball inside Morgan's cabin.
The one he hadn't allowed her to see. Until now.
He held it out, pinched between his thumb and forefinger, and waited for her to take it. So she did. She reached out with a ginger grasp and took the photo, handling it like it was made of glass. Then she held it up and studied it in the bright beam of the motorcycle's headlight.
It was a polaroid. Clearly aged and weathered, with faded colors and a hazy, yellowish film over the picture. But Beth immediately recognized the woman sitting in an old armchair. Leanne. Her sandy blonde hair was longer, flowing down over her shoulders, and there was a toddler perched on her knee. A little blonde boy with the same dark blue eyes as her, grinning happily. One of her arms was wrapped around the toddler's middle, holding him up, while her other hand held a lit cigarette. And she was smiling. A genuine smile—just like the one she'd briefly had on her face when Dale inquired about her unborn son.
"That's how I 'member her. Sittin' in her favorite chair with a cigarette in her hand," Daryl said quietly. He paused to lick his lips and asked, "Did she look anythin' like that when you saw her?"
Beth kept staring at the photo in her hands, studying every feature of Leanne's youthful face. Taking in every detail of the tiny blonde boy perched on her lap.
"Yeah," she confirmed. "Just like this."
A few seconds later, she was still studying the photo when he asked, "Did you see my dad?"
She lifted her eyes to meet his, a frown pulling the corners of her mouth downward. "Briefly… yeah."
"Don't tell me about it," Daryl said simply. "I don't wanna know."
Beth handed the photo back over and watched him take it from her, shoving it back into his wallet and stuffing it all into his back pocket. She had no desire to tell him about what she'd seen of the infamous Will Dixon, anyway.
But her lips were loose from the moonshine. Her heart was full from the long week she'd experienced. And there were only so many things she could omit before she became fit to bursting with secrets. Sure, she could write in her journal about it. But that wouldn't give her any feedback or closure. And yeah, she could vent to Maggie about all of it eventually. Because now Maggie knew the truth, and she was in a position that she could offer advice. But Beth wasn't looking for advice. She hadn't realized it until now—probably thanks to all the liquor that was finally settling in her stomach—but she had an intense desire to spill her heart out. To spew out the details she'd been suppressing all damn day. To just tell someone about all the crazy things she'd experienced.
And realistically, if she was going to be completely open with anyone, it should be Daryl. Right? Because it concerned him. It was all about him and his situation. Even if these little aspects didn't relate directly to him… who else would understand better?
So far, he'd proven himself really good at easing her fears. Which she hadn't noticed until now. But if she looked back: who had been there during her most terrifying moments? When she learned about her Gift and supposed birthright? When she witnessed Papa Legba for the first time? When she passed out inside Merle's old cabin? When she collapsed on the floor of the evidence room? When she broke down in tears outside the insurance office?
It was always Daryl. He'd been there, ready to catch her when she fell. Even though he had no obligation to do such a thing.
Before she could stop them, the words slipped from her mouth, "Can I tell you somethin' else? Somethin' weird?"
She was wary of meeting his eyes. But when she did, she saw him quirking a brow curiously. He gave a jerk of his head.
"Weirder than all the other shit ya already told me? Or just weird in general?"
She chuckled and shook her head. "I dunno. Weird in a different way, I guess… Jus' somethin' I couldn't really tell you an' Rick today. 'Cause I don't think it'd even make sense."
He snorted. "Yeah, alright. Try me, Greene."
Her expression sombered and she met his gaze with more intensity than before. But the words had already been building inside her head, gathering in her throat and teetering behind her tongue. She was downright eager to talk about it. Because what if there was some detail that she was missing? Some terribly obvious clue that she kept looking past?
Or what if she could talk about all the weird shit she experienced on The Other Side without the fear of judgement? What if he actually tried to understand?
Could she confide in Daryl Dixon? Like a real friend?
"When I go over there…" she started, quickly trailing off.
"To The Other Side?"
She nodded. "Yeah."
"Like when yer sleepin'? Or—"
"Any time."
"Oh."
"There's a certain place, and I figured out how to get there on my own, but I still can't control what happens, or what I see. And it's been different every time. Depending on what I'm tryin' to find out. Or what sent me there."
"Right. So…"
She sighed. "When I go there, I… somethin' weird happens. Like—it's like there's a creature inside me. And it's tryin' to escape. Or maybe it's tryin' to lead me in a certain direction. And I can feel it squirming around behind my ribcage. It has arms. Like tentacles. But they kinda look like vines. Those really thick vines, the kind you'd imagine for a fairytale like Jack and The Beanstalk or somethin'. But they're bright yellow. Iridescent. I can see 'em glowin'. They stretch outta my skin and wiggle across the ground, or towards the direction I'm supposed to follow. I think…"
Daryl was staring at her with parted lips, a deep crease in his brow. He seemed to be hanging on her every word, but she couldn't think about that. She tried not to look at him, afraid she'd lose her burst of confidence and go quiet. Besides, she could already feel the relief that was flooding her system. Finally being able to relay one of the details that were difficult to describe. Finally figuring out if it made any damn sense to anyone else, or if she'd just been experiencing another supernatural side effect of The Gift.
She inhaled deeply before continuing, "I think they're some sorta extension of my soul. Or like… my aura. Or whatever."
He breathed out through flared nostrils, one eyebrow quirked. "Your aura?"
"Ya know," she said, waving a dismissive hand. "Auras—the glow around your soul or your body or whatever, and it's s'posed to be a certain color and that somehow defines what kinda person you are. Like a color that only people with a Third Eye can see."
"Oh," he said, nodding in understanding. "I heard'a that."
"Yeah," she continued. "So… it feels like that."
"Why?" He asked.
"Because…" She hesitated for no more than a split-second. She'd wanted to talk about this, anyway. She'd wanted to tell… someone. And now she needed to explain it comprehensively. Maybe if she said it out loud, it would make it seem more real.
"Because Papa Legba keeps calling me Sunshine Girl. And Florence Newton said somethin' about me being a light in the darkness… So what if it's true? What if they're seein' something I can't see?"
Without missing a beat, Daryl countered with, "Y'just said you saw it. Those beanstalks were bright yellow. Leadin' ya where yer s'posed to go. Maybe that is your aura. An' Legba and everybody else can see it… But you just don't want to."
He made it sound so simple. Beth couldn't help but be taken aback.
"Could it really be that simple, though?" She asked.
He grunted. "Maybe. Maybe not. I ain't no expert."
She smirked. "Me either."
Then he shrugged. "Sounds like enough reason to believe in what you can do. Reckon that old Witch couldn'ta been too far off base, considering all she's seen."
Beth sputtered. "But what can I do? Besides see glimpses of the past an' feel other people's pain."
"I'ono. Where was the beanstalks takin' you? Maybe they're s'posed ta guide you—or maybe they're s'posed ta be some kinda lesson 'bout how you can't just blindly follow your instincts."
"Damn," she breathed out, suddenly struck with a different perspective than she'd ever considered. "I… don't know."
He huffed out a half-chuckle. "Me either. Reckon yer barkin' up the wrong tree here, Greene."
She rolled her eyes and flashed him a light-hearted smile. "I wasn't lookin' for answers. Just an outsider's perspective."
"Well, ain't much of an outsider neither—"
But their conversation was interrupted by the faint sound of music drifting through the air.
They both paused and looked around curiously, unsure of whether it was real or not. A soft drum beat. Gentle guitar strums. The taps of keys on a piano. It was gradually getting louder. When they realized they could both hear it, they accepted that it was real. But that didn't explain where it was coming from. It sounded oddly familiar, yet Beth couldn't place the tune.
Then it grew louder. Slowly surrounding them, filling the empty night air.
"There is someone… walking behind you… turn around, look at me…"
She finally realized it had to be coming from the Bluetooth speaker in her bag, and she turned around to look.
Sure enough, there was Merle. Leaning against the bike. Watching her and Daryl with nothing less than loathing. Though a smirk was plastered on his face. The creepy song kept playing.
"There is someone… watching your footsteps… turn around, look at me…"
Oh, he thought himself clever.
to be continued…
