Man, it's been a minute since I've written anything. If you're still following me, thank you and bless you for your patience. This popped into my head, clear as day, after watching a Hallmark movie (that actually wasn't anything like this story, but if it's what woke up my muse, so be it).
I haven't felt this good about writing in a LONG time.
All through his life, Daryl was never much of a believer. In anything. Religions, Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy. True love. Fate. Soul mates. Heartbreak so painful it knocked you on your ass, like in the crappy country songs his dad used to blare on the crappy radio in the crappy shack he called a house. It was all a bunch of bullshit. When it came to Merle's half-baked ideas to score some easy money, Daryl really only started believing when he saw it happen. He supposed he didn't see the point in getting his hopes up in any kind of outside forces when the only one he could really depend on was himself.
And then he met Beth. Well, that's not exactly true. He'd met Beth years ago back on her Daddy's farm. Her daddy believed in things - in God, in the goodness of people...hell, he even believed the walking corpses were really just sick and could be healed. Daryl figured that must have been where she got her own steadfast faith.
That same conviction pushed her to, in turn, push him to survive and carry on after the prison fell. Her belief that they would find the rest of their found-family was so strong it was enough to power the both of them, day in and day out.
And then she was gone. He was forced to leave her body behind back in Atlanta before he had to take off with the rest of their group, all of them running for their lives in front of a swarm of walkers 800 strong.
She'd been right about everything, and now she was gone and he didn't even get to say goodbye. Didn't get to tell her just how right she was.
Even in a completely new town some six hundred miles away with a completely new group of people, everything reminded him of her. It seemed like everywhere he went, everything he did, there was something catching his attention and dredging up memories and emotions he'd worked so hard to ignore since losing her.
A flash of yellow in an otherwise gray and brown world reminded him of the polo shirt she'd been wearing when he lost her. Both times.
The sound of someone humming as he passed the gardens had his mind swiftly returning to their time together after the prison fell when she would sing softly as they were foraging for food or supplies.
The little hints and nudges would never stop, even as weeks, months, years passed. The communities grew strong together, faced common foes together, survived together. Just like Beth had imagined. Birthday parties, baby showers, talent shows (all of which Beth would have graciously won, Daryl was convinced. Although, after giving it some thought, he decided she would have coordinated the first one, but not performed in it, at least not until everyone had practically begged her to go on stage.)
As she grew, Judith began wearing that braid in her hair. He reminded himself again and again that she was simply mimicking how Michonne wore her own hair, but that tiny part of his brain would remind him of Judith's first surrogate mother, and how she wore that braid, "just for something pretty." What really broke his heart was when someone had brought back a bunch of costume jewelry for the kids to dress up with and Judith covertly swiped a bracelet or two. She was too tough to let the other kids see her play with such frivolous things, but part of him wondered if some part of the child's brain remembered her first mama always wearing bracelets on her arm.
But these were all coincidences. Nothing was really out of the ordinary. Life carries on, and old habits die hard, right? It became easier and easier to shrug things off as circumstantial.
But then things started to get weird. Not scary weird. Just...damn near impossible to explain.
A downy white feather clinging to the back of his winged vest, even after riding from Hilltop to Alexandria on his bike.
A mud snake slithering over a moss-covered log near an empty Mountain Dew bottle and a hub cap that had absolutely no reason to be in the middle of a damn forest, away from any roads. He wouldn't admit it to anyone who asked, but that had him spooked for a while.
He'd found a rundown shack not far from the safe zone in Alexandria and the sight of it quite literally knocked him on his ass. He didn't dare look inside, for fear of finding jars of moonshine hiding somewhere. What was really fucking weird is he could never find the shack after he left it behind him that day. Daryl could track anything. Anything. But when he'd taken the day to regroup and get his shit together and muscle up enough gumption to go looking, he couldn't find the shack again.
Like it just fucking disappeared. Or maybe he just didn't want to find it again. The memories it had unearthed were painful to deal with. Maybe his psyche was trying to protect him as much as it could.
Yeah. That sounded right.
Daryl opted for guard duty for a week after finding and losing that shack. At least that way, when more and more strange things began happening and appearing to him, he could brush them all off as his scumbag brain looking for things that reminded him of her.
He didn't really believe someone was trying to reach him from the beyond. He'd tell everyone and anyone that he did. Not. Believe.
So he started asking around. Not because he was starting to believe in anything. He was just curious.
Fr. Gabriel was pretty level headed, even for a guy who still wore his priest collar every day like it still meant something. Plus Daryl was pretty sure he couldn't go and tell anyone what he was asking about, so he figured it was as good a place to start as any. Gabriel told him that Christians believe in all things visible and invisible, that lost spirits come to us for guidance or assistance, and are a pain in our lives because they themselves are likely in pain from being disconnected from their creator.
Maybe a priest wasn't the best person to start with, after all. All that religious talk was a hefty pill to swallow.
Carol listened to all the things Daryl had been noticing lately with a soft, kind smile, and, to her credit, never teased him once. "When my gramma died, I was just a teenager. I missed her so much. Cried myself to sleep for weeks. Then I started seeing pennies. Everywhere I went, pennies. And not just randomly on the sidewalks or under the cushions on the couch. On the bathroom sink. One single penny. In my locker at school. Once I found one in my shoe. All of them were heads up. My aunt told me those were pennies from Heaven, that it was Gramma telling me she was okay, that I didn't have to be sad anymore."
The very next day, Daryl found a penny in his pants pocket. He hadn't handled any money since burning down the moonshine shack with Beth, and that fire sure as hell didn't make change.
Aaron told him about Eric's fascination with butterflies, how he said they were symbolic. Aaron even admitted that maybe he was looking for them, but whenever he played with Gracie outside, there always seemed to be a butterfly fluttering around them, and he would get this sense of peace. A sad sense of peace, but it was there nonetheless.
The next day, little RJ presented him with a picture of a bright yellow butterfly.
He tried hard to figure things out for himself, but ended up just working himself up instead. He didn't want to ask anyone else, didn't want to become one of those kind of people. Not to mention, if anyone else put any more ideas into his head, he was sure those same signs would start appearing. He couldn't trust his own brain to not look for them.
What he wanted was a drink. What he didn't want was to find a tiny bottle of peach schnapps sitting on his kitchen counter.
And then things got really weird.
Daryl started having vivid dreams of Beth. Those "out there" kind of dreams that seemed so real, like something out of a memory, and yet everything was different. It was the same one every night (well, every night he had the dream): he was back in Atlanta, climbing stairs, so many stairs, until he would finally reach the door at the top that let him onto the roof. When he finally reached the last step, he paused on the top landing, looking at the signs on the wall but not really able to read them, then opened the door to step into the blinding light outside.
And then he woke up. Every. Time.
When the dream started happening consistently for days, weeks at a time, sometimes even twice a night, and the details never changed, it became harder and harder for Daryl to just shrug it off. Maybe he just needed a change of scenery. He'd been staying put in Alexandria since the dream started. (Not that he was afraid to go anywhere. It was just easier to write things off as commonplace if he stayed in one place.) It was high time he went for a ride. A long damn ride.
If only he could find his damn keys. It was only after he had almost literally torn his place apart looking for them did he find them sitting on the table near the front door, just where he always left them but he swore he checked there at least a dozen times. Next to his keys was a single cotton ball.
Now where the hell had that come from?
As out of place as the cotton ball was, it got Daryl to thinking; he hadn't been to any of the other communities in a while, at least not since the dreams had started. The clinics they had set up in each location often traded supplies, and he had been the go-between courier several times. Maybe that's how the cotton ball had gotten there in his apartment. Yeah, that had to be it. While he was searching high and low through everything he owned, there must have been some random cotton ball that had gotten loose in the bag he used for his so-called deliveries.
See? That wasn't so hard to explain.
Daryl cleaned his mess as quickly as he could, eager to get out on the road. His keys in one hand, crossbow in the other, and delivery bag strapped onto his back, he walked out to where his bike was parked, did a quick check to make sure he could make it to Hilltop without problems, and finally set off on his impromptu journey.
Daryl tried not to think too much as he rode down the long stretches of highway between each community. He just wanted to lose himself in the rhythm of the rumbling motor beneath him, the rise and fall of the highways, the resistance of the air pushing against him as he went from place to place.
He found that all the clinics were pretty well all set. In fact, all the little villages had become self-sufficient. They had their own people who went to and from neighbor to neighbor so all the communities could thrive. There wasn't really a need for him to stay longer than to catch up on all the goings on, visit with the friends he'd made over the years. But everyone was busy; they all had jobs to do, and far be it from him to take someone away from their own means of productivity.
Not to mention, it seemed like no matter where he went, there was a flash of yellow just in the corner of his peripheral vision. When he would do a double take, there was nothing there to explain why he'd seen it.
When he returned to his apartment back in Alexandria, there was a tongue depressor on his night stand.
Okay, seriously, what the hell? Someone had to have been pranking him when his back was turned. But the only people who would have dared to try and spook him were Carol and Aaron, and things had started happening before he mentioned anything to them. Besides, they wouldn't dare mess with him after telling him about these little signs to look for. To be completely honest, something like that would be too easy for them.
Could that mean there was possibly some truth in what they had told him? Was someone from beyond actually trying to communicate with him?
"Beth?" he whispered into the darkness, but of course the darkness didn't answer. He felt all the more ridiculous for even entertaining the thought.
Instead, his dreams that night were like a walk down memory lane of the time he had spent alone with her. And by walk, he meant marathon, as every little moment played itself out as he slept, culminating with him climbing those same dark stairs to the brilliant light surrounding him.
Fuck it. Something, someone, wanted him to go back to Atlanta. He hated to admit it, but he couldn't ignore the feeling in his gut anymore. Maybe the car they'd been forced to leave her in would still be there, a makeshift grave that only added to his guilt - guilt at having failed her time and time again. Maybe visiting her final resting place would give him some kind of closure and all this nonsense would stop and he could get a decent night's sleep again.
He told those who needed to know that he'd be gone, probably a couple weeks at least. Gave some bullshit excuse that he just needed out, that he was feeling too cooped up. He was pretty sure no one actually believed him, but no one said anything about it to him, so he ran with it.
He travelled the abandoned highways all the way back to the only other state he knew as home, sticking to state highways rather than interstates, with no real map to follow, only maintaining his southbound route, figuring he'd be able to find his way to Atlanta regardless of where he ended up crossing the state line.
Once he crossed into Georgia, he found a highway with a number he recognized and followed it all the way to the outskirts of Atlanta. He had been in Alexandria for several years, but to Daryl, it was as if he'd only left a few weeks ago. He remembered the general area down the street from Grady Hospital where they had found no other option than to leave Beth behind in that crappy car, hardly a word of goodbye as they'd fled for their lives. As they made their way north to get Beth's new friend Noah back to his family, everyone was sketchy around the back ends of cars, especially those that resembled the old Chevy sedan he searched for now.
When he found it, and he was absolutely positive this was the one, just a matter of blocks away from Grady Hospital, Daryl was stunned. Angry. Heartbroken.
The trunk was standing open, the interior damaged by years of Georgian weather. There was no sign that Beth had even been there.
He wanted to scream, to cry, to hit something, hurt something...kill something.
He wanted answers. There was only one place he could think of where he could even hope to find them, so he pushed his motorcycle through the now quiet streets of Atlanta, not a walker to be seen. He went in the same door he had once carried Beth's body out of, the memories flooding back with painful vengeance at having been ignored for such a long time.
The entryway was silent. Dark. Stale. As if no one had been through here in weeks, maybe even months. Unable to find anyone on the main level (which, truth be told, made a hell of a lot of sense), he found a stairwell, gave a sharp whistle to make sure it was empty before beginning his climb through the darkness, letting the heavy metal door slam shut behind him.
It was like reliving the past, from all those years ago, climbing slowly with Rick, Tyreese and Sasha, not knowing if they were walking into any kind of trap.
The last time he'd been in this building, Noah had led them to the fifth floor, right to where the survivors had been living. Something told him to pass that particular level for now. Instead, he quite literally followed his dreams, curious more than anything else as to what was really on the other side of the door on the hospital roof.
Even with the narrow windows letting in streams of dusty light, climbing the stairs again was disorienting. It was as if he truly were walking through his dream, one foot in front of the other. His knees ached, and he was more than a little winded, but he pressed on, determined to find what Beth was calling him to find.
As he climbed, he fought with himself. He didn't want to believe, didn't want to have hope. All either of those did was set him up for a big letdown. The last time he had hoped for anything, Beth was sitting across the table from him, flat soda in their glasses and a couple dozen tea lights bathing the kitchen in warm candlelight. He'd hoped for so many things that night. He was so filled with it, he forgot every rule he had set for himself when opening a door in the middle of a zombie apocalypse.
The other part of him fought back - was he supposed to just ignore all those signs? All those hints and nudges and, in the case of his dream, flashing neon signs? Every part of this stairwell was familiar to him, and not necessarily from the one time he'd been in it during their attempt to rescue Beth and Carol. Every step was ingrained into his brain because of the dreams.
He wanted so badly to believe that Beth was trying to send him some kind of message, and that message brought him right here. Was there something she wanted him to see? Something of hers she wanted to give to Maggie? To Judith? Dare he hope it was something for him?
No. No, that was all just a bunch of bullshit. There's no such thing as ghosts or spirits or any of that crap. This whole thing was just fucking stupid.
He was ready to turn around when he realized his thoughts had distracted him long enough to reach the top landing. Right in front of him was the now familiar steel door. Signs warning about a helipad that was most definitely no longer in use ironically remained. He could feel the heat of the Atlanta sun beaming into this tiny alcove, a warning of what he was about to walk into.
Steeling his nerves, he pushed against the release and the door opened easily, without any squeaky or rusted hinges. Someone has been using this door frequently. After his eyes adjusted to the brightness around him, he realized just how much the door had been used, and why.
Everywhere he looked was green. Several varieties of plants were sectioned off by narrow pathways, maximizing the square footage of the roof to grow as many fruits and vegetables as possible. He thought he even saw a chicken coop built around the corner by the only door granting access to this urban garden.
"Teri?"
Daryl froze. The voice that called out made his blood run cold, his stomach plummet below his failing knees. He turned toward the source, filled with fear and disbelief. It was a voice as familiar to him as his own, as bright as the sun and just as warm.
It couldn't be possible, and yet it sounded again. "Hey, did you find that extra bas...ket?"
There before him, gaping at him just as he was sure he was staring back at her, was Beth. She had changed, but she was the same. Bright blue eyes that he could instantly feel searching into his soul, blonde hair that flashed in the sun, her signature braid securely in place in the band of her ponytail. Long, willowy arms and coltish legs showing her youth and subtle strength.
The scars on her face had healed and faded, only a trace of them left, yet a glaring reminder to him of how he had failed her.
But she was here. She hadn't failed. She survived. The one thing she had been wrong about.
"Daryl."
The instant he heard her say his name, his knees completely gave out along with his lungs. Two soft syllables had literally reduced him to a heap. The hot gravel below him dug through his jeans and poked his flesh, but he didn't care. It was a penance he most assuredly deserved.
His breath caught in his throat when he tried to speak. Shock, relief, doubt, guilt...they all choked his airway off. He wasn't worthy of speaking to her, shouldn't even dare to. He wouldn't sully her name by letting a screw up like himself even think of uttering it.
She walked over to him, one small step at a time, like she was approaching an injured wild animal. Was he so different? She said it again, whispering it this time as a question. "Daryl?" She stopped just in front of him, but he couldn't bring himself to look up at her. It was like looking directly into the sun, though he'd happily go blind if it meant the last thing he saw was her face.
His breath came quickly now, almost hyperventilating as he fought to keep control. Tears began to prick his eyes, his chin quivered as they threatened to fall. His eyes focused on the toes of her boots, mere inches away from his hands resting on his knees, holding onto himself for dear life so he wouldn't try to reach out to her.
He squeezed his eyes shut. Opened them. Shut them again. Making sure none of this was some sick, cruel dream. He heard the gravel crunch as she moved, felt her presence lower to his level, like an angel descending from heaven to visit a lowly sinner like him. To guide him from the darkness, like she had so very long ago.
His lungs finally kicked into gear when he felt her soft hand on his shoulder. Release. And once he allowed himself to breathe, let his heart start beating again, there was no holding back anymore. He reached for the hand on his shoulder, brought it to his cheek, held it there as if to make damn sure this was all really happening. That he wasn't dreaming and she wasn't leaving him again.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." The only words his brain could come up with. A litany of contrition. He repeated it as many times as he could with each shaking breath. "I shouldn't have left you. I didn't want to. I'm sorry…"
A gentle hand on his other cheek pulled him from his profound apology. "Daryl," she said once more, then paused. He chanced a glance up at her face, beautiful despite its scars, to find her waiting for him with a merciful smile. "I know. Dr. Stevens told me about the horde when I...when I woke up. You didn't have a choice. None of you did. I know." Her thumb brushed across his cheek, silently dismissing the tear that had tried to escape down his face. "If he hadn't been watching, if you hadn't gone down Pratt Street...if any number of things hadn't happened the way they did…"
Beth trailed off, shaking her head, like she was trying to shake her thoughts back into focus, rather than dwelling on the 'what-ifs.' She took a deep breath, puffed it out, then continued. "Shepherd and Edwards, they came to find me once the horde had passed, realized I wasn't...gone. They brought me back, in more ways than one. And now," she took his hands in hers, her warm skin soft against his. "You're here. I didn't think I'd ever see you again."
Once the initial shock of finding each other after years of separation had started to wear off, they simultaneously agreed that it was damned hot out on that roof. Beth helped him to his feet then led him back down the stairs, this time, somehow a little less dark, to a hallway lined with what used to be patient rooms. They entered a single sized room, the walls mostly bare, the bed neatly made. A soft breeze he hadn't noticed blowing mere minutes ago swept through, bringing them both some relief from the heat they'd been sitting in. Beth gestured to the bed, offering him a seat before settling herself on the blanket that covered it. Daryl opted for the chair sitting in the corner instead, at which Beth graciously grinned.
Together they caught each other up on what had happened since that fateful day. Beth was overjoyed to hear that Maggie was still alive, even more so that little Hershel was growing fast, just like RJ and Judith. She cried a little for those they had lost, but seemed pleased that everyone who had survived was not just living, but thriving.
Daryl wanted to plop her right on the back of his bike and take her to see it all for herself just as soon as he could. Before he could come up with the words, Beth announced that it was getting to be supper time, and that he was more than welcome to stay.
Stay? For dinner? For the night? Forever? Daryl wasn't sure how to ask. He ate quietly, never leaving her side, not really talking to anyone she introduced him to. Not really knowing what to say. A quick, "thanks for saving her when I couldn't," just didn't seem to suffice.
When it was time for lights out, he still didn't want to leave her. She mentioned getting him his own room, but he must have given her a pitiful kind of look, because she quickly added that the chair he had sat in earlier was actually a recliner. They each took a few minutes of personal time in the bathroom connected to her room before settling in for the night.
Not that sleep would find him easily. Beth was alive. Alive and thriving as one of the central parts of her new community. How had he missed that she was alive in his arms as he carried her down the stairs and outside after being shot by Dawn? He felt like a Class A idiot.
Not only that, Daryl was racking his brain for a way to ask Beth to come back to Alexandria with him. Surely she'd want to see her sister again, to meet her nephew. She'd want to see how Judith had grown. Then again, she had a life here now. Would she want to pack everything up, uproot her new life, to come with him to his new home? Would he be able to stay here with her?
What if she'd met someone? She was so easy to love, he wouldn't be surprised if someone had come in and done what he'd been too chicken-shit awkward to try.
No answers were coming to solve any of his questions as he lay there in the not-quite-comfortable recliner. Sleep evaded him, and Beth must have noticed that he still wasn't sleeping despite his exhaustion from the days long trip and the emotional rollercoaster he'd been riding since arriving in Atlanta. He was fairly certain he hadn't moved, restless though he was, as he tried to will his mind to stop spinning out of control and just rest long enough to recharge.
"Would it help if you were here with me? It's not exactly comfortable, but it's better than the chair," she offered shyly, her voice soft in the warm night air.
He felt ridiculous, like a little kid who couldn't sleep. Still, he needed rest, and he wasn't going to get that from the recliner. As he crossed her room slowly, she scooted herself to one side of the narrow bed, giving up her comfort for him. Like he deserved comfort.
After some awkward maneuvering, they managed to find a sleeping position together, not unlike when they would bunk together in the weeks they spent, alone together, after the prison. They faced each other, arms crossed, elbows bumping every now and again as they let themselves relax into slumber.
Daryl had the first full night of dreamless sleep in weeks, months...years, if he were being completely honest.
When he woke the next morning, he was alone in the hospital bed, his senses automatically on guard. There was no sign of Beth anywhere. Had he dreamt the whole thing? Maybe someone had found him passed out by the road and brought him to some kind of clinic and he'd hallucinated everything. Daryl frantically jumped from the bed, nearly stumbling over his own feet as he rushed to find out just what the hell was happening.
His hand had just reached the doorknob when the door opened from the hallway, centimeters away from smacking him right in the nose. He glared at whoever was on the other side until he saw it was Beth, her arms full of fruits and vegetables and a couple of bottles of water. "Good morning," she greeted him. He wasn't sure how to respond, other than a mumbled "morning," of his own as he stepped backward to give her room to enter.
"So," she began as she deposited the food on the bed and gestured for him to help himself. "How much room do you have on your bike?" Daryl answered with a confused look. "I mean...when you leave...can I come with you?"
Her question sent his mind for a loop. "You...you wanna come with me?"
"Oh," she said, sadness creeping into her voice. "I...I just thought…"
Shit. He was screwing it all up again. "Yes!" he blurted out, interrupting whatever she was going to say. "Yeah, I want you to come with me. I...no one would believe me, no one would forgive me if I left you here."
Her smile lit up the entire room. "Okay!" she beamed at him. "Um, just let me pack some things and we can head out."
Daryl knew better than to try to slow her down. He watched her pack the few things she had accumulated since living here. She asked him to come with her as she said her goodbyes, and he stood in silent support. These people had quite literally saved her, and he would never be able to repay them for that. It seemed that no one was trying to keep her there, as if they all realized she belonged with her family. With a final wave and a bright smile to hide the sadness in her eyes, Beth led Daryl to the same steps that brought him here in more ways than one, all the way to the ground floor to begin their journey to their new home.
Epilogue
They'd been back in Alexandria a little over a month before Daryl and Beth stopped fighting what had been growing between them, the same thing that had just started to take root after those few days in the funeral home where they'd been together then torn apart.
It took at least a week more before Daryl could work up the nerve to properly kiss her, another several weeks before they were officially living together, eventually exchanging, "I love you's." They mutually decided to take their time before physically showing each other just how deep that love ran.
They were both lying together, curled up into one another after having just exhausted themselves making love, watching the snow flutter past the window on a bitterly cold winter's evening. As his heart rate slowed, his mind was pushing its way through a sex-induced fog as he prepared for his shift for guard duty on the wall surrounding their village.
"Penny for your thoughts," Beth mumbled against his chest as she pulled herself closer to him, seeking his warmth. He grinned as he pressed a kiss against the crown of her head, tightening his arm around her to hold her close. Daryl started to make a smart ass remark about having to make change, but a thought came to his mind that stopped him short.
He'd been so caught up with finding Beth, practically by accident, the two of them, alone together once again as they made their way north to be with the rest of their family. He'd spent so much energy making sure she adjusted to life in Alexandria, introducing her to the new people in his life, taking her on a tour of the other communities. As they found themselves slowly, naturally, inevitably evolving their relationship from good friends to something much more, all of his thoughts were consumed by her.
The long and short of it was, he hadn't given a half a thought to all those little signs that led him to travel down to Atlanta on little more than a hunch. A hunch that turned out to be one of the smartest things he'd ever done.
He'd never admit to actually believing anything other-worldly was happening, but if (and that was a big 'if') it had been, he could have probably convinced himself that it was Beth reaching out to him from the great beyond.
But Beth was with him in every sense of the word. She wasn't just a figment of his imagination. Not just a memory anymore. She was living flesh and blood.
All those pennies and cotton balls and...all those nights filled with the same dream over and over...where did they come from?
"I can hear the gears turning," Beth teased from her place beside him. Daryl looked down to see her smiling up at him before reaching up to peck a soft kiss on his lips. "You're a million miles away. What's going on?"
Daryl shook his head, "You'd think I was crazy if I told you."
Sitting up a little, Beth readjusted the blankets to cover her a little better. "I mean, everyone's a little crazy," she teased again. She rubbed a soothing hand along his back, skimming over skin and scar. Daryl found he didn't mind her touching his back nearly as much as he thought he might. "Talk to me," she insisted.
Sighing heavily, knowing he wasn't about to win this one (as if he could ever actually win anything when going toe-to-toe against Beth Greene), he began, "Okay, but seriously, it's fucking nuts." He told her everything. Everything he had seen and heard and dreamt in the months before they were reunited. "So, it obviously wasn't you unless you were having some kind of out-of-body experience."
Beth nudged her shoulder against his bicep, "Pretty sure I stayed in one piece as much as I could."
Daryl snorted out a laugh, but turned his thoughts back to the topic at hand. "So what the hell?" he asked no one in particular.
Beth thought for a quiet moment. "I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe the universe just knew we were supposed to find each other again and gave you a helpful little...shove."
"Hmm. Maybe," Daryl wasn't sure if he agreed or not, but he didn't have much else to go on. Why the hell would the universe give two shits about him in the first place? It certainly never had before.
He heaved another heavy sigh before wrapping his arm around her to pull her in for a quick kiss. "I need ta start getting ready. Gotta start my shift in a little bit."
Beth groaned against his skin in protest, "Oh, fine. My big strong man keeping everyone safe. If you must." She kissed him again, longer than he had done for her. This was her usual strategy - try to distract him long enough to get him to stay with her, using the excuse of 'making up for lost time.'
"Sorry, girl," he grinned as he slid from beneath the covers to get dressed. He took her advice to make sure to wear layers, his body already missing the warmth of the bed they shared. When he was ready to leave, he leaned over the bed for one last kiss before heading into the cold to man his post.
"Don't forget your walkie-talkie," she gently reminded him. He nodded and grabbed it from its charging base on his way out the door. "Love you!" she called after him.
Daryl looked over his shoulder, "Love you back."
The snow crunched under his feet as he made his way down the quiet street toward the meeting place near the wall. A small fire glowed in the distance, the fire pit they lit every night for the guards to take turns keeping warm. He fumbled with the walkie-talkie, struggling momentarily to turn the tiny knob with the thick gloves Beth insisted that he wear. Who was he to argue, really? He was finally successful, and heard the "bwoop" that signified that it had connected with the others' channel.
He had just reached the ladder to his perch when the walkie-talkie crackled with static. Daryl waited for an update - had someone seen something? - but no one said a word. Again, a hiss of static. Again, no one saying anything from the other end.
Once Daryl had climbed to his perch and had settled in, wrapping the blanket that came with the post around his shoulders before fiddling with the device. Maybe the channel had gotten bumped. Maybe the batteries were loose. After inspecting as much as he could, he chocked it up to having been a fluke, and scanned the area for anything to report.
Another crackle a minute later had him nearly jumping out of his skin. Still, no one had spoken a word on the channel so far. Daryl had his fingers on the comm button, ready to ask for everyone to report in, but before he applied any pressure, he heard a long stretch of static and…
He scrunched his eyes tight. Surely he hadn't heard what he thought he heard.
It sounded again. A raspy, barking laugh came through the tiny speaker in his hand. He knew that laugh better than his own, but...that would be impossible.
"Merle?"
Daryl's guess was met by silence. He had to have been dreaming. Hallucinating. Losing his goddamn mind. He paced along the narrow platform, focussed on finding something, anything, to pull him back to reality.
One more hiss of static, another short, raspy laugh, followed by two words he'd heard most of his life: "Dumbass Darylina."
A longer laugh, the voice obviously amused with his stupid nickname, before another "bwoop" and the walkie-talkie went silent.
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