Alone Together

Merle disappeared while Beth was eating breakfast, leaving her to go about her morning chores in peace. Although it was only peaceful for a couple of hours.

The unmistakable sound of Daryl's motorcycle caught her attention. She could hear it even from the chicken coop. A short while later, she watched from a distance as Hershel stepped out onto the back porch, followed by two black men she'd never seen before. Her heart skipped. And sure enough, Daryl emerged at the tailend of the group, hands shoved into his pockets and shoulders hunched as he followed silently.

She watched her dad speaking to the two men, gesturing widely out towards the barns and the fields, and they nodded along, speaking every now and then. Beth kept her eyes on Daryl, though. He seemed to be paying attention to Hershel, but his head turned just slightly and she thought he might've looked at her. She was too far away to tell, though. He turned his face away, pointedly avoiding her gaze.

Her stomach clenched and she went back to feeding the chickens, glancing over every few seconds. Hershel was leading the men through the yard now, towards the barn. Daryl was still trailing behind like a shadow while the two men strolled along happily and looked around at everything.

She wanted to rush back towards the house and find an excuse to avoid the group, but she didn't want to come off as rude. Besides, if these were the friends of Daryl that were going to be helping on the farm for the next month or two, she needed to meet them.

Eventually, Hershel led the group round towards the chicken coop, where Beth was finishing up and preparing to move on to her next chore. When she saw them approaching, she froze, putting on her most polite smile. Hershel beamed and walked up to her, putting a hand on her shoulder and standing beside her while he introduced the new workers.

"And this here is my youngest daughter, Beth," Hershel said. "Beth, this is Oscar and Big Tiny. They're gonna start work today."

Daryl was hovering behind them, staring down at his boots.

Beth nodded at each man respectively, ignoring Daryl, and greeted them, "Hi, nice to meet y'all."

Oscar was about the same height as her dad, with a clean-shaven head and sparse facial hair. He didn't look older than 35, maybe 40 at the most. Big Tiny appeared younger, closer to 30, and he towered over everyone at what must've been close to seven feet tall. He had close-cropped black hair and a full, short beard, and he was built like a brickhouse. Though both men seemed to be rather muscular and in good shape for manual labor. They were mostly quiet and cordial, observing and taking in their surroundings.

They each nodded back at her, smiling politely, and Big Tiny said, "Nice ta meet you too, young lady. Real nice farm ya got here."

"Thanks," she smiled wider. "We take a lotta pride in it."

Hershel chuckled and patted her shoulder before pulling his hand away. "Couldn't've said it better myself, Doodlebug. Now if ya wanna follow me this way, fellas, I think we'll find my son over by the stables. Shawn is set to inherit this property once I've passed on, so I've already taught him everything I know." He began to walk on, leading Oscar and Big Tiny away in the direction of the horse stables.

Daryl followed after them, but before he could get more than a few feet away—and once she knew her dad was out of earshot—she called after him, "Hey, Daryl."

He stopped and looked back over his shoulder at her, though it was barely a glance. He didn't even respond.

She cleared her throat, surprised at how dry it suddenly felt. "Can we talk?"

He still wouldn't turn and face her. He looked like he was about to walk away any second. "'Bout what? Somethin' with Merle?"

"No," she said, trying to sound as confident as possible. "Somethin' with us."

He grunted and turned away. "Ain't nothin' ta talk about."

He started to walk on, but she took a step forward and said, "Don't you walk away from me, Dixon."

Daryl halted in his tracks and spun around. "Or what?"

Beth froze. A chill ran down her spine, and just as she was thinking to herself, Oh no, I sound like Merle. I already screwed this up, Merle showed up.

"You sound like me, dumbass!" He remarked. "That is not how I told you ta go about it. Don't fuck this up right out the gate, blondie."

"Or-or we'll never get anywhere with this," she recanted, softening her tone and looking at him apologetically. "I just wanna talk. I wanna apologize. Will you at least hear me out?"

"Alright, that's a li'l better," Merle muttered. "But tread lightly."

Daryl hesitated. He glanced over his shoulder, checking to see that Hershel and the others were still heading for the barn without him. Then he sighed. He met her gaze with narrowed eyes. "The hell you gotta say that I didn't already hear? We don't have ta be friends to put The Governor where he belongs."

"No, we don't," she agreed. "But I want us to be. I care about you, Daryl. I don't see you as another puzzle that needs ta be put together. I screwed up, okay? I overstepped. You were right—about Merle gettin' into my head too much. You were right about a lotta stuff… I don't understand boundaries like I should."

Daryl's brows knit together and his expression softened, though his body remained taut as a bowstring. "Didn't mean you don't understand boundaries at all—I's jus' sayin' you should take other people's viewpoints into consideration once in a while. Stop lookin' at the world through rose-colored glasses. It ain't doin' you no favors."

"Nice," Merle commented. "Good thinkin' with the sympathetic route, blondie. Make 'im feel bad. He's got a soft spot for ya, play it up."

Beth tried to tune out the dead Dixon—he'd given one good piece of advice, but that didn't mean all his advice was worth following. She had no intentions of being manipulative. She would apologize sincerely, but she would draw the line at playing the sympathy card. Daryl would either accept her apology, or he wouldn't.

"You're right. I know that," she told Daryl. "And I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to get inside your head, it was an accident. But when I think about it, I guess… it wasn't really an accident."

He seemed to be getting agitated, and he stepped forward, closing the distance between them. "Can we go inside? I ain't really try'na talk about this with yer daddy just over yonder." He jerked his head towards the direction of the stables, where Hershel and the others were clearly visible.

"Yeah, of course," she agreed.

He followed after her silently while she led the way to the house. They stepped up onto the back porch and into the kitchen. Daryl shut the backdoor tight and remained standing in front of it, and Beth stopped and stood by the sink. He shoved his hands back into his pockets and met her eyes with a hint of trepidation.

Merle reappeared at the kitchen table, leaning back leisurely in one of the chairs and watching the pair like they were about to put on a play. Thankfully, he kept his mouth shut for the time being.

"So what d'you mean?" Daryl asked gruffly. "It was an accident, but it wasn't? How's that s'posed ta work?"

Beth sighed. Nonetheless, she squared her shoulders and remained composed and confident. And remorseful. She looked him straight in the eye and explained, "The thing about my Gift… it's really powerful. But that doesn't mean I'm powerful. It can show me all the stuff I wanna see, or give me the insight I need, but it can also lead me to other places. And I don't just mean The Other Side, I mean like—places in people's memories. It shows me a lotta things I never wanted to see."

Merle piped up, "Quit makin' excuses."

Daryl's expression told her that she should listen to Merle, so she went on to say, "But I'm learning, and I should've known better. I let it get outta control. I pushed too hard, and I-I let myself go further than I should've. It wasn't that I was tryin' to piece you together like a puzzle, I was just so adamant about understanding you, and-and finding a way to relate to you that wouldn't seem forced. And I got ahead of myself. That was my mistake. I can own up to it. I wanna learn from it. I'm honestly, truly sorry, Daryl."

The dead Dixon was oddly silent. The living Dixon was staring back at Beth with a blank expression, studying her, ruminating on her words. She held her breath waiting for him to speak.

When he finally did, his tone was laced with suspicion. "The hell you wanna understand me for so bad? You try'na convince yerself my soul's really worth savin'?"

Beth shook her head. "Not at all. I already know your soul is worth saving. I've told you a hundred times—and I meant it. Every single time. I didn't need to see just how badly you suffered to know that."

He scoffed. "See, that's what I fuckin' hate—talkin' 'bout me suffering. I don't want yer damn pity, girl. Save it fer somebody who needs it."

"I don't mean it like that," she insisted. "I've suffered, too. Everyone has, at one point or another. It helps make us who we are. But it doesn't define us."

"So what all did you see?" He asked, lifting his chin just slightly and peering at her through the fringe of his dark hair. "How deep did you let yerself go?"

Her cheeks heated up and she hesitated. "You really wanna know?" She asked quietly.

"Yeah, I do. I wanna know exactly what you saw—'s only fair. They're my memories. You didn't have no right ta be seein' 'em in the first place."

Merle clucked his tongue. "Be honest. He's gonna know if yer lyin', and it's only gonna make things worse. Fess up now an' get it over with. Gotta rip that Band-Aid off sooner or later, princess."

Beth contemplated her next words. Ultimately, she knew Merle was right. She had no other choice. She would just have to tell the ugly truth and hope for the best.

She took a deep breath and explained, "It started with the day Merle left for the military… and then I saw a memory of your mom after one of your dad's Bad Days. She gave you a bath and had you read The Great Fall of Icarus to her from a kids' book that she kept hidden from your dad. Then I saw your only memory of the fire, how you survived. And then the day you woke up in the hospital, when yer dad visited. After that, it jumped to the big fight you had with Merle—the day he saw the scars on your back for the first time. Then the last time you two talked, when he was cleanin' out the cabin a few days after he killed Will. And… I saw the day you went to check on him, and you found him hanging…"

Daryl's face slowly drained of color as he listened to her. His jaw tightened and his eyes were watery, but he stood rigid and unmoved. When she trailed off, he could read her expression: he saw that there was more to be told. And he was eager to move on from what he'd already heard.

"Then what?" He growled. "You kept goin'... didn't you?"

Beth swallowed hard.

"Don't lie," Merle reminded her. "'Cause that's somethin' I would do right now."

She nodded hesitantly and watched the anger fill Daryl's eyes. But she forced herself to speak anyway, forced herself to admit the truth: "Yes. I was on a cliff, and I had the option to either jump over the edge or walk back into a dark forest. I heard my own voice from the trees, and I wasn't sure what would happen if I jumped off the cliff, so I walked towards the forest. And it threw me around a few more of your memories."

He took a brief minute to comprehend what she was explaining. Then he demanded, "Which ones?"

"That moment at Morgan's cabin when you found out I'd tried to kill myself. And a few seconds of when we visited the cabin and stood inside Merle's old bedroom. And then a couple minutes of the time we were at my mom's grave. And… my dad's little talk with you the other night."

Daryl cursed under his breath, "Jesus fuckin' Christ." He shook his head and looked down at his boots, but she couldn't tell if he was angry or humiliated. Or both.

"But then I turned around and took a runnin' leap off the cliff," she added, almost frantic. "I-I was unfamiliar with the layout, and the rules were different when I got taken into your memories. I didn't—"

"And what'd you learn?" He cut her off with a hoarse voice, raising his head and looking directly at her. "Huh? You claim to be try'na learn, so what'd you really take from all that, Greene?"

Beth exhaled through flared nostrils and returned his gaze with matched intensity. "You want me to be completely honest?"

She saw him tense up, as though he were preparing to be attacked. "Yeah. I do."

"Shit," Merle said. "That's what I want, too. Go on then, Doodlebug. Lay it out for us."

She took a deep breath and struggled to maintain a level tone of voice, though she tried. "I learned that you an' Merle were always two completely different people—the only thing you ever really had in common was your pain. I learned just how despicable yer daddy was, 'cause I got to witness his cruelty first-hand. And I learned that you've always been a survivor, even when you didn't wanna be. But what I really took from all that, Daryl, is that you're scared to let anybody in this world get too close. 'Cause you're afraid they'll see somethin' they don't like, or that you'll screw up an' fail to meet their expectations—you love your new life and your new friends, and you're terrified that yer past will catch up an' take all those people away. But even if it did, you'd just keep going. Or at least you think you would. Deep down, you're worried that you might end up just like your brother."

Merle let out a low whistle, scratching his head awkwardly and looking away with wide eyes. Then he went completely silent. He pressed his lips together and watched with a grimace.

Daryl merely stared at her. His expression was so cold and emotionless that she almost began to regret her honesty. He looked like he was resisting the urge to reach out and strangle her.

She wasn't scared, though. She knew he'd never hurt her. She knew what he was really angry about, even if he wouldn't admit it.

Then he growled, "Oh, yeah? 'S that what you think?"

Tears had gathered at the corners of her eyes and she hadn't even realized it. A knot formed in her throat, and it made her voice come out hoarser than usual. "No. That's what I know."

He slashed an arm through the air. "You don't know shit, Beth. You can't just go shovin' yer way inta people's heads and expect to come out the other end better for it!" His voice echoed off the kitchen walls, loud and furious.

She stood her ground, putting more strength behind her words. More honesty. "I heard what you really think'a me, Daryl."

He froze, his face set in a hard scowl.

She went on, "You care about me just like I care about you. And you know that I understand. And it doesn't have a damn thing to do with the fact that I'm the only one who can talk to yer dead brother—"

"But you don't understand!" Daryl cut in, his voice rising with anger and frustration. "Just 'cause you got a glimpse at my white trash upbringing don't mean you can relate, or that you could ever know what it really takes to survive. You don't get it, Beth! You got the perfect little family, the perfect fuckin' life, and no matter how hard you try ta squeeze me into it, I don't fuckin' belong!"

"I know my family can be intimidating, and my daddy can be real scary, and I know that I might seem sheltered or-or clueless ta somebody like you," she countered insistently. "But that doesn't mean we're so terribly different at the end of the day!"

"Nah, that's exactly what it fuckin' means!" He shouted. His face was red and he kept pointing at her, slashing his arm through the air to punctuate his argument. "The only reason we even spoke in the first place is 'cause'a yer goddamn Gift. And that's the only way you know me—it's the only way yer ever gonna know me! But you best get it through yer head, li'l girl, that the shit you saw ain't gonna give you all the answers y'think ya want. Yer gonna get yerself fuckin' hurt, an' it's gonna be yer own damn fault!"

"That's bullshit!" Beth took a step forward, refusing to look away from Daryl's fiery gaze. "I might've made a mistake, but I'm tryin' to apologize for it! I know you as well as you've let me know you—and guess what? I still don't pity you. If anythin', I respect you more. And I don't deserve to be shut out completely just because you're afraid."

"I ain't afraid of nothin'," he growled.

"I know exactly what you're afraid of."

He narrowed his eyes. "You know it all now, huh?"

"Not even close," she quipped. "But I know yer afraid of living in spite, and wasting your life like Merle did. I know yer afraid of screwin' up and losing Carol an' Rick an' Dwight. And I know yer afraid of accepting how you really feel."

A shadow flickered across his face and his jaw tightened. "How I feel about what?" But before she could respond, he went on, his voice low and menacing, "Are you really gonna stand here an' try to tell me how I feel? Just 'cause you went traipsin' through my fucking head?! This isn't a game, Beth! I'm not another obstacle that you can conquer ta get stronger! I'm stuck deeper in this shit than you'll ever have ta be!"

"I've never treated this like a game, and this whole time, I've relied on you—I've trusted you an' looked to you like a partner. 'Cause yer the only person who gets it!" Beth cried. A tear escaped and slid down her cheek, and she hastily wiped it away. "But you have to be willing to rely on me, too. You have to trust me, Daryl, you can't keep this wall up and push me away the whole time we're goin' through this! You have to understand that I get it, even if you think I'm not capable!"

He waved her off with a scoff. "I never said you wasn't capable. But I ain't got no business relying on some twenty-four-year-old who can see ghosts—I ain't ever gonna rely on nobody else again, let alone you."

"And that's your fucking problem," Beth spat. "I'm not the weak little girl you think I am."

"Nah, yer not," he agreed resentfully. "You're worse than that. Too strong fer yer own good—ya think now you got this Gift, it gives ya the right to go shovin' yourself into people's lives."

His words punctured her chest like a knife. She reeled, completely deflated.

"Our fates are intertwined," Beth said weakly. "I didn't ask for it. That's just how it turned out."

Daryl barked out a humorless laugh. "My fate is in Hell—yours is on this farm. Only thing intertwined 'bout that is the shitty little town we were both born into. Quit readin' so much into the bullshit, Greene."

With that, he turned on his heel and moved towards the backdoor. But just as he reached out for the doorknob, she spoke up, and he froze.

"Which d'you think is worse: to watch your mama die slowly over several months, knowin' there was nothing you could do to ease her pain—knowin' you might've been able to see her soul crossing over to a better place if you'd just sucked it up and walked in to tell her goodbye?—or hearing her die from the next room, and havin' to choose between dying with her or saving yourself so you could keep livin' in Hell?"

She could see the shiver that ran through his body. He stiffened but didn't turn back. Didn't move.

"Pain might be a spectrum, but at the end of the day, me an' you have both been down in that same bottomless pit of despair. And we've both climbed our way out. Even if we weren't sure what we were climbin' towards." She took a breath and swallowed hard. "I'm okay with my fate bein' on this farm—but I'll never be okay with yours bein' in Hell. Can you really say you are? 'Cause if there's anything I've learned about you, Daryl… it's that you don't give up. Takin' the high road might not always be easy, but Carol's right—it always leads you to a better place."

He whipped his head around and glared at her through the fringe of his hair. "All them shitty choices I made led to Merle gettin' killed. Kept me under my old man's boot fer damn near my whole fucking life. Left my mama dead, an' thirty years later, I still ain't got shit ta show for it." She could see tears forming in his eyes. "I'm sick of takin' the high road, Beth. I'm sick'a lettin' people like you get too friendly, 'cause it always ends the same fucking way."

Beth took another step toward him, silently challenging him to turn back and face her. But he wouldn't.

"And how's that? How d'you think this is gonna end, Daryl Dixon?"

He met her intense gaze for only a second, then his shoulders slumped and he turned his head away. His hair fell over his face, and she couldn't see the look in his eyes, but she could hear the choked raspiness in his voice.

A strange sound—like a stifled sob mixed with a grunt of defiance—escaped his throat. "It's gonna end with you realizin' what a waste'a fuckin' time I am… and movin' on."

And just like that, all the fight in him was gone. Evaporated, like smoke atop water.

"And yer daddy never lookin' at me the same, yer brother laughin' me out the door—and my brother'll be in Hell, and I ain't ever gonna hear from him again, but I'm gonna have ta live with all of it." He choked back a sob. "Carol an' Rick are gonna find out I ain't worth the hassle, and then I'll go right back into the same shit I been runnin' from fer the last five years. And it ain't gonna be nobody's fuckin' fault but mine. It's my fault. It's all my fuckin' fault."

His shoulders shook. Beth stood frozen, staring at him in shock, completely unprepared.

Was this what Daryl sounded like when the walls finally came crumbling down?

Her heart ached, and the sensation of guilt was writhing around within her gut. Her stomach turned over. Tears pooled in her eyes and quickly dripped down her cheeks.

She wanted to say something. She wanted to assure him that he was wrong, and insist that this was exactly what she'd been arguing against—his own skewed perception of himself, how the people who cared for him really viewed him. She wanted to take all his pain away.

But she couldn't. Nor could she speak. She couldn't seem to find her voice.

So she closed the distance between them, approaching him even though he was still turned towards the door. She walked up without hesitation and wrapped her arms around his middle from behind, and she pressed the side of her face against the back of his vest.

As soon as he felt her embrace, his entire body went slack. A sob finally escaped his throat, echoing in the silence around them. He shook his head but didn't step away or try to push her off. He leaned back the slightest bit. Leaned into her. She heard him sniffling and weeping quietly.

And it finally made sense…

Daryl Dixon was terrified. Of being left behind again. Of being beaten down again. Of being tossed aside and forgotten. Again and again and again.

He didn't fear Hell. He feared dying alone.

But she understood. She finally got it.

She hugged him tighter.

"It's okay to be scared," she whispered into his back. "I'm scared, too."

Another sob racked his body and he shivered in her arms. "You got no fuckin' idea, girl…"

She gave him a chance to elaborate, but his voice trailed off and went silent for a long moment. She just squeezed him a little tighter and muttered, "You're right. I don't. But I'm learning. And so are you."

He kept shaking his head, trying and failing to stifle his sobs. But she kept speaking, her words slightly muffled by his vest pressed against her cheek.

"I'm not gonna let you go to Hell, Daryl. Your brother will always be with you, even after all this is over. And so will I. I'm not gonna let you be alone… I promise."

And she meant it. Whether he wanted to believe her or not.

to be continued…