Empty Bottle, Full Heart

All the moonshine in Beth's system did nothing to suppress her obvious annoyance.

"Merle?" Daryl guessed.

She sighed, narrowing her eyes at the dead guy leaning against the bike. "Merle."

The song kept playing and Merle scoffed. "'S this how you party, blondie? 'Cause this's downright pathetic. Couldn't even go to a proper drinkin' establishment? How you expect ta ever get my brother drunk enough to sleep with ya?"

He let out an obnoxious laugh and she rolled her eyes. "Couldn't you have stayed gone for a few more hours?"

"Fuck no," he snapped back. "Only got so much ta occupy myself with, ya know. Wha'ssamatter? Did I cockblock ya?" He cackled.

"Just ignore 'im," Daryl grumbled, turning his attention back towards the distance and the starry sky.

"Easier said than done," Beth muttered. Though she was more grateful than ever that he couldn't hear his brother's remarks.

She got up off the blanket and walked over to the bike, where her bag was still sitting beside it in the grass. The music got louder as she approached, and she quickly opened the bag and reached inside to hit the power button on the speaker.

Then Daryl whipped his head around and caught her attention. "Didn't have ta turn it off. Jus' play sum'n else."

Merle tsked, sarcastically checking a non-existent watch on his wrist. "Ain't you gotta go to church in a few hours, princess? It's way past yer bedtime."

She ignored him and turned towards Daryl, speaker clutched in one hand and her phone in the other. "Really?"

He grunted without turning back. "Why not."

"Well what do you wanna hear?"

"I dunno. Somethin' good."

Beth recalled their road trip to Florida and tried to remember what music Daryl had seemed to like. Merle was muttering and lighting up a smoke behind her, and maybe it was the alcohol making her feel more generous than usual, but she figured she'd better pick something both Dixon boys liked. Merle hadn't quite ruined this place for her yet, and she preferred to try and keep it that way. Which meant she'd have to placate him every now and again.

That proved easier to do with the help of a little moonshine.

A few minutes later, she was sitting beside Daryl atop the wool blanket again. They were so close that their thighs were almost touching. She didn't feel nearly as self-conscious as usual, though. The Bluetooth speaker was sitting at the end of the blanket behind them, playing her classic country playlist at a medium volume. The music echoed out around them and bounced back from the trees, fading out into the distance and across the wide open fields.

Something about listening to music under the stars with a little booze in her belly made Beth feel more elated than she could remember feeling in a long time. More carefree. Even with Merle around.

He made some crass comments, but once he realized she was actually ignoring him, he went quiet. The next thing she knew, he was lying on his back in the grass beside the blanket, hands behind his head while he stared up at the sky and wiggled his foot to the music. He lit up another smoke and used one hand to support his head while the other lifted his cigarette to and from his mouth. He exhaled clouds of smoke that disappeared above him.

He must've felt her looking at him because he turned his head and flashed her a cheeky smirk. "This place's a lot nicer at night, ya know. Wasn't shit to look at last time."

She rolled her eyes and turned away, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. A complacent Merle was something worth smiling about.

Three full songs played before Daryl moved a muscle. He pulled a crumpled cigarette pack from his vest pocket and lit one up. Then he went back to sitting like a statue, his only movements the occasional nod of his head to the music and lifting the cigarette to his mouth for long drags. Beth was too lost in all the thoughts swirling around inside her foggy brain to take much notice.

It was odd because, of the very few times she'd ever been "drunk" in her life, none of them had been quite like this. Calm. Quiet. Relaxed. A peace that settled over her and everything around her, even though she had been unable to find any semblance of peace for the last… several years. Just for tonight, she felt like everything might be okay.

At the same time, it made her realize why alcohol was so dangerous. Her daddy had warned her of exactly this. He'd told her all about how it was way too easy to use booze as a crutch in order to avoid your responsibilities and the stress of life.

Well, it wasn't like she was gonna run off and do something like this every weekend. Or even every year. Besides, with her Gift, who knew what could happen if she got drunk and lost control, or let her mind slip away somewhere she didn't want to go. She would never risk something like that.

All she'd been looking for was one night of clarity. And between the stars and the soft music and the comforting presence of the man beside her—the living man—she was pretty sure she'd found it. She was already looking at Daryl in a slightly different light than before.

Wait… that's not what she meant. She was looking at their situation in a different light. Not Daryl. She just wanted to be his friend. And she was grateful that they could have a chance to share things like friends do. That's all.

A Waylon Jennings song started playing, and halfway through the first verse, Daryl spoke and broke her out of her thoughts. She turned her head and looked at him to find that he was gazing over at her with a contemplative expression.

"Y'ever think about… how this is gonna end?"

Beth furrowed her brow. "How what's gonna end?"

He hesitated for a second. Then he said, "The Governor."

"'Course I think about it. I've been thinkin' about it ever since we found out his name."

"And…?"

"And what?"

He shrugged. "You think it's gonna end by sendin' him back to prison?"

"Only way it's gonna end is with his scrawny fuckin' neck hangin' from a noose," Merle piped up smugly. "While I waltz my way down to Hell with Papa Legba and a dead stripper on my arm."

She tuned him out and focused on Daryl, even though those words sent a chill down her spine. She didn't want to think about it. Wasn't that the whole point of coming out here and chugging moonshine straight from the bottle?

She looked away, gazing out towards the dark horizon while she clutched her knees a little tighter against her chest. "If we play our cards right, we could corner him. Get some kinda incriminating evidence. Rick might be able to pull some strings—then we could make sure he gets locked away for good. So he can't hurt nobody else."

Daryl grunted. She could feel his eyes on her, as though he were refusing to look away despite how uncomfortable it was making her. She didn't like being in the spotlight like this, being forced to discuss something she was purposely trying to avoid.

"And you believe that?" He asked quietly. "You think the legal system'll have our back on this one?"

"If yer asking whether I believe in Rick Grimes or not, then I think you know the answer," Beth responded sharply. "He's got our back."

"Bootlicker," Merle chirped.

"Not what I'm askin'," Daryl said. "You know what I mean. You know what the likelihood actually is. He ain't more'an a small-town sheriff with a couple connections. An' I'm not gettin' the impression that he has a whole lotta faith in the justice system when it comes to lockin' Philip up. Can't see how he could ever make a legitimate legal case outta this mess."

One half of Beth wanted to snap back, Then I guess that's why you're not a cop. But the other half of her felt no need to jump to the defense. She'd genuinely thought she was done talking about this after her conversation with Dale; that she wasn't ready to discuss it any further, to debate her own morals. Not yet, anyway.

But now that Daryl was urging her on with the same doubts she'd already been experiencing, she was second-guessing her choice to shove it away as a problem to be dealt with later. Maybe he could give her a different perspective on this, as well. Maybe the moral conflict was eating away at him similarly to how it was literally haunting her.

She still didn't turn to meet his eyes as she said, "I really wanna believe he can. Somehow. That we can do what's right and put this guy behind bars, where he belongs. But… yeah. It's hard to imagine how we could ever make it all legal. I'm not stupid, y'know. I don't think Rick's got some kinda superpowers just because he's a sheriff. I just…"

She trailed off and Daryl guessed, "Just wanna have faith that it'll all work out fer the best. So we can go back to normal without consequence."

"Yeah," she confirmed. "That."

He sighed. "Wish I could say the same. But faith ain't never done shit fer me."

Beth finally looked over at him and saw his shoulders slumped, his face obscured by shagging hair as he gazed out across the field. "Yes, it has. You had faith that your brother didn't kill himself."

Merle interjected, "Nah. That was just common sense." She ignored him.

Daryl shrugged listlessly and met her eyes. "And look where that's gotten me."

She let out a deep sigh. "So what?" The moonshine had left her mouth dry, but the words still poured from her lips without much inhibition. "What's the worst case scenario, Daryl? That we have to kill The Governor ourselves?"

"Yeah," he said. "Obviously."

She shook her head. "It won't come to that."

"And how d'you know?"

"I just do. It can't come to that. There's gotta be some other way."

"Like what?"

"I dunno—like some serious psychiatric help," she said with certainty. "Philip is sick in the head. I saw his journal in Dale's memories. I saw what kinda crap he thinks about, how he views the world. He's mentally ill. He needs help."

Daryl scoffed. "So you gonna give it to 'im? 'Cause from what I've seen, dude don't seem too willing to accept help. Can't be that sick if he's capable of committing premeditated murder."

"I'm not a psychologist, I don't know what's wrong with him—I just know he doesn't deserve to die."

"But I did?!" Merle objected.

She snapped her head around to glare at the dead Dixon. "An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind. We're not lookin' for vengeance, we're lookin' for justice."

"Fuck that," he spat. "An eye for an eye leaves everybody with one eye each. Y'all can still see just fine."

"Who said I was only lookin' fer justice?" Daryl argued.

Beth blinked, trying to ignore the dead Dixon and focus on the living one. "Then what're you looking for? Revenge?"

"He's a Dixon, ain't he," Merle remarked.

But Daryl just shrugged and looked away. "I'ono. But this asshole already tried ta kill me once. Reckon I owe him one… if it comes down to it."

She couldn't honestly disagree with that because she knew she'd never convince either Dixon brother otherwise. She tried to imagine how she might feel if she were in Daryl's shoes—would she want revenge, too? Or would she be strong enough to accept that killing Phillip would never bring Leanne or Merle back? That something like life and death was far too big to ever be one person's decision?

She couldn't say, because she would never know. Not really. The only person who had ever made any attempt on her life was… herself. And even that had been difficult to forgive.

It had been so easy to shoot Dale down when he tried preaching old adages to her. Yet here she was, turning around and repeating those same words with a chest full of doubt.

"I guess that's your decision to make then," she muttered. "If it comes down to it…"

But she couldn't stop thinking about Dale's advice. "You cannot be the judge, jury, and executioner. Not even when you think you're justified."

"You don't have to be okay with it," Daryl said. "I wouldn't expect ya to understand."

"I know, but it affects me too…"

And what if you get sent to prison for killing Philip? Or worse—Hell? She wanted to ask. She didn't, though.

He grunted and didn't say anything else. Merle was sucking loudly on his teeth, audibly discontent.

They all sat in silence for a long moment. Beth was beginning to feel both mentally and emotionally exhausted. She hadn't planned on talking about such heavy things when she first suggested they come out here. She certainly hadn't wanted to talk about such heavy things. Yet admittedly, it felt satisfying. She'd hoped Daryl would let her in. And she could almost swear that his tall walls were slowly beginning to come down.

And maybe hers were, too. Unintentionally. Was this what it meant to be a light in someone's life? Would she be unpacking another box the next time she visited that bedroom in her mind?

She couldn't be sure. She was too drunk. Her head was spinning, and her whole body felt restless. She was afraid she'd wake up in a few hours and regret everything she'd said. She wanted to stop thinking about it altogether.

Daryl seemed to agree in his own way. He stopped talking and went quiet, lighting up a fresh smoke from the crinkly pack in his vest. On Beth's other side, Merle was doing the same. Ring of Fire was playing softly from the speaker, and he wiggled his foot to the music while gazing up at the stars.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Merle grumbled, shooting her a side-eye.

She rolled her eyes and quipped back, "Wouldn't show up anyway."

He actually chuckled at that, but she was already turning back to Daryl and watching him take long drags from the cigarette pinched between his fingers. Her mind wouldn't stop racing, replays of memories and flashes of emotion from her long day spent inside other people's heads. Apparently, booze hadn't been the numbing factor she'd hoped it would be.

"Y'know," Daryl spoke up once he felt her watching him, azure eyes flicking over to meet hers for just a second. "If yer brother needs help on the farm—"

"I really don't wanna talk about that anymore," she cut him off. "Not right now…"

He grunted and shrugged, exhaling a cloud of tar and nicotine. "Whatever."

Then Beth reached her hand out towards his cigarette and asked, "Can I try that?"

He gave her a look of bewilderment. "Huh?"

"Yer cigarette," she clarified.

"Uh—really?"

"Why not?"

He snorted. "'Cause you don't smoke. Bet ya ain't ever smoked nothin' in yer life, huh?"

She blushed, ignoring Merle's taunting laughter. "No, but I want to. Just to try it."

Daryl hesitated, then he shrugged indifferently and held out the cigarette for her to take. She carefully pinched it between the second knuckles of her index and middle fingers, trying to mimic the way he held it. Then she brought it up to her lips and took a small drag. He watched with surprise, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

As soon as the harsh smoke hit her throat, she started coughing. He quickly took the cigarette back and stifled a laugh while she tried to catch her breath.

"Didn't even fuckin' inhale, princess!" Merle teased, laughing loudly.

"That's—awful!" Beth sputtered through the coughs. "Oh, God. No. Nope, that's not fer me."

Daryl chuckled and took a long drag, as if to show off how easy it was for him. He exhaled smoke through his teeth and smirked. "Nasty habit, Greene. Dunno why you'd wanna try it."

She finally stopped coughing and took in a deep breath of fresh air, letting out a bashful giggle. "I know. It's stupid. Jus' thought there might be somethin' to it if you like it so much."

He grunted. "That was yer first mistake."

"What?"

"Thinkin' anything I do is worth doin'."

She rolled her eyes and brushed him off. "So you're just as self-loathing even when you're drunk, huh?"

Merle barked out a laugh but Daryl turned away, muttering under his breath. "Who said I was drunk?"

"You're not?!" She giggled. "'Cause I'm definitely feelin' that moonshine."

"Yeah, 'cause yer a lightweight," he remarked. But she could see a smirk peeking out from beneath his shagging hair.

She gazed over at him for a moment, and even though the butterflies were coming to life in her belly, she was itching to let the truth spill from her lips. So she did.

"Y'know, I really do admire you, Daryl Dixon."

That made his head whip to the side, narrowed eyes meeting hers. He frowned and furrowed his brow. "Huh?"

"I mean it," she insisted, knowing full well he'd heard her. "I think you might be the strongest person I've ever met."

He blinked and continued staring at her like she'd grown a second head. Merle was laughing behind her, but she didn't really care.

"Guess I'm just chopped liver, huh—even though I fought fer yer freedom," the dead Dixon commented. "I's a veteran, ya know. Darylina didn't even graduate high school."

Not only did she not really care about what Merle was saying, but she was finding it easier and easier to tune him out. Especially when Daryl was staring at her so intently, studying her as though he thought she might be trying to trick him.

"You are drunk," the living Dixon finally mumbled, shaking his head and glancing away from her. "I better get you home soon."

Beth heaved out a sigh of frustration. "I'm serious, Daryl. Why's it so hard for you to believe?"

But he just waved her off and continued smoking his cigarette, gazing out at the storm clouds in the distance.

Apparently, the alcohol had made her a little too sentimental and loose-lipped. Maybe she should just focus on keeping her mouth shut. She had a feeling she'd definitely regret allowing that statement to slip out come morning.

A couple minutes passed in what probably would've been an awkward silence if Beth were sober. But she was drifting away with her thoughts while Daryl smoked and sat quietly. She was thinking about all the things her dad and sister had told her about being drunk; all the little warnings and the etiquette and the fear they'd instilled within her. The precautions they'd ensured she'd need if she were to become uninhibited. And how she wasn't sure why they'd ever worried to begin with.

Because yeah, this was fun. In a way. It made certain things easier to say, and certain things easier to feel. But it was nothing compared to how she felt around Daryl without alcohol. Not to mention, he actually took her seriously when she wasn't drinking. So that was something she'd stay mindful of.

Yeah. This was a nice little one-off sorta thing. But it certainly wasn't something she'd want to do every weekend. Or even every month. Besides, it hadn't helped ease her mind at all in the way she thought it might. Which meant there really was no escape from her Gift.

Guess I'd better just accept it and do my best, she thought.

Her classic country playlist was still echoing around them from the speaker that sat on the edge of the blanket. Both Dixon brothers seemed to be "vibing," as Beth's friends would say. Sitting silently and casually wiggling their feet to the music, smoking their cigarettes and staring up at the stars.

My friends, she thought. What friends? From high school? The ones I haven't talked to in six years besides on social media?

She glanced from Daryl to Merle and back again.

Shit. Are these my only friends? A dead guy and a dude who only tolerates me because of what I can do?

Her daddy's voice echoed in her head: "Everyone needs friends. You can't make it through life all alone."

Well, she wasn't all alone. She never had been. Not really. And she had a feeling that she wouldn't ever be again. Not if Daryl had anything to say about it.

Beth didn't realize what song had begun playing until she heard Daryl snickering to himself. She turned to give him a puzzled look and he flashed her a bashful half-smile before glancing away.

"Ain't heard this song in years," he said.

She listened and realized it was an upbeat old tune. Something that used to play while she danced in the kitchen with her mom. She could still remember how her daddy had smiled when he walked in, and how he'd eagerly joined them in dancing around and singing along.

There was a rush of nostalgia and an urge she'd been trying to suppress for the last hour. And then she was standing to her feet, grinning the whole time, and reaching over to turn the music up. It blared a little louder around them, bouncing off trees in the distance and filling their tiny space of solace with twangy guitar sounds and a voice straight from the 90s.

Beth stepped out into the grass and began dancing, swishing her hair around and allowing all the pent-up energy within her bones to escape carelessly.

"But don't tell my heart, my achy breaky heart! I just don't think he'd understand!"

Merle had sat up and started laughing while he watched her, and Daryl was gazing at her with the same spark of amusement on his face, chuckling softly. She couldn't even say she cared. She was too caught up in her own reminiscence, dancing in the beam of the motorcycle headlight and singing along happily.

"And if you tell my heart, my achy breaky heart, he might blow up and kill this man!"

She kept at it even though she could feel her face turning bright red. Daryl just kept shaking his head and smiling awkwardly, but Merle was getting excited. The dead Dixon finally jumped to his feet during the last chorus and sang along with Beth.

And she could've said she hated it, but that would be a lie. If there'd ever been an opportunity to "bond" with Merle, this was it. And it was fairly effortless.

She knew he missed being alive, but she hadn't really been convinced that he missed these parts of life.

Maybe it was the moonshine. She couldn't be sure. But dammit, she felt like laughing and dancing and remembering a simpler time. And even Daryl Dixon's judgmental gaze wouldn't ruin that right now.

Not that he was necessarily watching her in a judgmental way. But she could tell that he felt slightly awkward. Almost out of place. As though he didn't know how to respond to this kind of spontaneous happiness.

"Get up, loser," she teased, grinning and reaching out a hand to urge him up. "Dance with us!"

"Us?"

"He can't see me, genius," Merle sniggered, pausing his dancing to take a drag off his cigarette. "Only reason I'm lettin' loose." Then he laughed and resumed bobbing his head and shaking his hips to the music.

"Me an' Merle are havin' the time of our lives," Beth told Daryl. "Can't ya tell?" She laughed.

But Daryl shook his head at her outreached hand and refused to stand up. Billy Ray Cyrus's voice faded out and the song changed. Beth paused, breathing heavily. Merle let out a groan.

"Nah, nah," he said. The music switched and he grinned. "There we go."

The song that had been starting to play abruptly stopped, switching over to something entirely different. The instrumentals were quiet at first, gradually growing louder—and spookier. Beth stared at Merle quizzically until she recognized the tune.

"Oh, you asshole!" She cried. Though she was smiling and a laugh burst from her lips as soon as she'd said it.

"I'm just an average man, with an average life—"

Merle threw his head back and laughed loudly, then he chucked his burnt-down cigarette butt into the grass, where it disappeared entirely. He shrugged and shook his hips to the beat, performing a mockery of Beth's dancing. "Thought you'd dig it, blondie. It's our song!"

"—but why do I always feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone?"

"Merle play this?" Daryl guessed. He tossed out his burnt-down cigarette and finally stood to his feet, hesitantly approaching her.

Beth giggled. "How'd you know?"

"I always feel like, somebody's watchin' me-eeeee!"

Merle sang along happily, bobbing his head and shaking his hips with more enthusiasm than she'd ever seen from him.

"People call me on the phone, I'm trying to avoid, well can the people on TV see me, or am I just paranoid?"

She didn't quite realize she was gripping Daryl's hand and forcing him to dance along with her until halfway through the song. Then it wasn't so much forcing him as it was… just having fun with him.

"Who's playin' tricks on me? I don't know anymore. Are the neighbors watching me?"

There were a lot of firsts tonight. Because now, for the first time since she'd met him, Beth was witnessing Daryl loosen up. He didn't actually dance, nor did he really move. But he stood and let Beth twirl around him, and when she started singing along obnoxiously, he just chuckled and shook his head and lit up another cigarette.

Merle belted out the lyrics as they played, even though Beth was the only one who could hear him.

"I always feel like… somebody's watchin' me-eeee!"

"Christ, never thought I'd wanna do this sober," he remarked, a smile on his face that she'd never seen before. "But I got a feelin' there ain't much partying in Hell—might as well live it up while I'm still Earthside!"

Beth didn't say so, but she had a feeling he was right.

"Who's playin' tricks on me?"

to be continued…


A/N: Since I can't PM in reply to comments left by anonymous users, I'll just publicly reply here.

Review from "Bethylguest": Interesting chapter but when are they going to realize that you can't sell someone else's soul? Doesn't work that way. Everyone has free will-their soul is their own.

Thank you for reading and commenting, Bethylguest. As much as I appreciate your criticism, I can't say it's really constructive. If you refer back to chapter 18, Papa Legba explains the terms and conditions pretty clearly. Yes, Merle very much does have the ability to wager his brother's soul due to traumatic circumstances, and even though Daryl has Free Will, that does not extend to The Other Side. I am not following any strict religious beliefs/rules in this fic. It's a big jumble of multiple religions, beliefs, and cultural lore. This is my universe and I'm making the rules up as I go, and I already decided that other people can wager souls that are not their own in certain circumstances. Sorry if that's disappointing, but that's how it is in this fic.
If you have any other criticism that could be helpful, please feel free to leave it in a comment or PM me :)