A/N: Another story. I know, I know. I haven't updated "Lessons" yet but I promise that update is coming in the next day or so. This is actually something I've had written since June and kept putting off publishing because I kept putting off the editing/revision process of this. I've seen one or two other stories with this trope but they've all been one shots and I've planned on developing this into a full length story. Yay? (I really love this story though, so updates should come a lot faster than usual.) A big, big thank you to C-Sand for unofficially beta-ing this even though it's technically her birthday present. I'd be lost without her typo and plot hole catching skills. Please, please review if you can. It would make me so, so happy to know what you guys think because I really am proud of this one (considering I revised it for nearly 4 months hehe). Hope you enjoy!
Daryl.
Her entire life the name rang out to her; she turned it over and over in her head, let it slip off her lips as she said it out loud when no one was around to hear her, feeling the awkward familiarity of a name she knew so well, but had no face to put towards. It was the first word she'd learned to read; the first word she wanted to read. When she learned what sounds letters made and had stared at her wrist long and hard, trying to attach the shapes of her new discoveries to that name she'd made her mother read to her the moment she knew what it was.
Daryl.
It felt nice to say, she often thought; her southern drawl catching on the right syllables, dragging it out just a little bit longer. She spent far more time than she cared to admit wondering how much longer until she could speak the name and catch a glance, a set of eyes responding and looking her way. How much longer she had to wait for him.
Shawn met his soulmate when he was twelve; when a shy red haired girl moved into town. He'd had it easy, Beth sometimes thought a little jealously. Maggie, ever the realist had waved the whole thing off years later during a conversation between the sisters the night before Shawn's wedding.
"Not everyone finds theirs. I'm nearly 24 and look at that," she had pulled up her sleeve to show the faded name on her own wrist. "No Glenn in my life. Not even close, by the way this thing is fading. Rick and Lori Grimes don't even have theirs anymore," she went on with a shrug, "and they've been happily married for years. It ain't the middle ages anymore. We can be with whoever we want."
Beth knew it was true. It was far more common than it had been in her parent's generation; the ones before that. Her daddy would have a fit every time Maggie went on a date with anyone not named Glenn and mumble about "kids these days doing whatever they wanted" but the truth was that more and more people were settling down without their matches. Not everyone had the patience to wait, while some waited forever and simply never found them; wasting their life away waiting for someone who was sitting on the other side of the world waiting for someone to come to them.
But Beth wasn't like them. She wasn't satisfied with the knowledge that someone out there was made for her; made to know her and understand her and fit perfectly in every corner of her and could not simply resign herself to never look at them. She'd asked Maggie once, when the feeling of loneliness seeped through the shadows of her bedroom and she found herself across the hallway in her sister's.
"Will you really be ok if you never meet him?" She'd whispered through the darkness. A silence that made her equal parts sad and uncomfortable followed. "I won't be," she said almost to herself. Maggie had sighed and turned over in her bed.
"I know you won't Bethy. You'll find him."
She'd been fifteen then, with news of Shawn's new life buzzing through the farm. Of marriage and children and happiness and she'd felt an outsider in her own home. Maggie, not concerned with the possibility of soul mates, and she so very silly; letting it consume her thoughts. Now at 19 and with a full time job at the town's bakery, she tried to give her mind less time to think about him. About what he might look like or be like. She couldn't put a face to him if she tried, couldn't put a voice or personality to the man who just the thought of put a smile on her face; knowing all her expectations and whatever her imagination could conjure would pale with whatever he was. She often thought of the boys she'd known in high school; thought about the qualities she liked in them that Daryl would certainly have. He would be clean cut and sweet like Jimmy. Funny and charming like Zach. She really couldn't think beyond that; and didn't want to. She wanted the joy of discovering all the little things about him; all the quirks and details and letting him discover her in return. They were made for each other after all.
"Beth! If you're not down here in five minutes I'm leaving without you!"
At the sound of Maggie's voice, she snapped out of her daydream -one that included a faceless man that made her stomach flip and her cheeks heat up- to push the tangle of bracelets back over her wrist. The customary surge of guilt ran through her and she pushed it down quickly with a deep breath.
The shame of what she'd done three years ago, what she'd almost done, wouldn't really leave her. She'd resigned herself to that and she figured she deserved it. She'd been selfish, Maggie'd told her. How could she have done that her family? To Daryl. She knew that under the beaded bracelets his name lay jagged and just a little distorted. A scar that would probably never fully heal cutting the tail of the "Y" just enough to make the neat name look tilted. Look wrong. Look less than perfect.
She'd nearly left him. In her grief, all she thought about was the ache her mother had left behind and she'd desperately wanted to feel something that wasn't a vast emptiness and loneliness. The moment they found her; when Lori Grimes had literally broken her bathroom door down; everyone had fussed and coddled; but it was over quickly enough. She'd stayed silent when Maggie paced about the bedroom and chastised her while their father stitched up her arm.
"You would've done that to Daddy? To Shawn? To me?" Beth had looked up at her with numb, empty eyes and when Maggie realized she wasn't getting through to her she'd pursed her lips and struck at Beth's weak spot. The problem with your sister also being your best friend, was giving them the power to know how to trap you. "To Daryl? You'd do that to Daryl?"
She'd taken a shaky breath and looked down at the fresh stitch, already knowing the mark that'd be so close to his name and feeling ashamed for it.
"You'd let him wake up tomorrow knowin' you were gone?"
"I think that's enough Maggie," Hershel had finally spoken up and Maggie was silenced with a huff.
Three years on, she couldn't say if she'd done things differently when she shattered her bathroom mirror and wished for nothing but to see her mother's face again. She didn't know if she'd think of him and stop herself if she could do it all over again. But she was glad she didn't have to relive it and she was glad to be alive. She was glad to know she might have the time to find him and tell him how sorry she is for nearly keeping them apart. She whispered it to thin air sometimes in the darkness of her bedroom and she hoped that somewhere he was dreaming of a strange girl named Beth caressing his face and saying over and over how sorry she was. If he was anything like she imagined, he was waiting and looking for her just as eagerly as she was, and she wouldn't dare do anything again to jeopardize that.
She'd learned her lesson, Maggie would be pleased to hear.
"You're going in early," Maggie observed when Beth finally scrambled into the car, her sweater only half on and hair still a mess.
"Lori said Rick's coming by to pick up the cake at nine," she explained. "Besides, Ty said I could go home early if I helped him open."
Maggie nodded. "Do you need me to come pick you up then? I'm driving to Lori's at around 2 to help her set up."
"No, I can walk. I still gotta go home and get dressed."
"Yeah and maybe comb your hair," her sister teased. Beth rolled her eyes but smiled knowing Maggie was right. She'd overslept and ran out the door without even bothering to see what she looked like. She was lucky she'd brushed her teeth, really.
"Well at least it's just work. Ain't like I'm seeing anyone important."
Maggie snorted, "Knock on wood, this be the day Daryl decides he wants to try some of your famous red velvet cupcakes."
"You can keep scrubbin' all you want; damn thing ain't gonna come off," Merle said over his drink as he watched his younger brother indulge in his nervous habit: rubbing at the mark on his wrist. He didn't know if it was just a habit, or if he was subconsciously really trying to get the name off of him. "'Sides, only one way to get it off for good," he threw in as he gave his own blank wrist one shake in his direction across the table of the diner.
Daryl half thought he sometimes imagined the wounded look in his brother's eyes when he referenced his empty wrist or the name that had been there once. He didn't like to believe the bullshit stories about "one half of you being gone" that sentimental old women told to one another over sweet tea and their knitting; and he certainly had no reason to connect such neediness to Merle, of all people.
It was difficult to get a read on Merle; on any emotion that wasn't anger or amusement (usually at Daryl's expense) and as much as he tried to not over-think or wonder too much what it must be like to meet her, he still didn't really know what had happened with Merle while he lived in Atlanta for two years. Before he had shown up at his doorstep with a blank wrist and a look similar to that of a kicked dog; mumbling something about "car accident...or some shit," and then spending three months laying in Daryl's couch watching local tv because he didn't have cable. He wasn't using, wasn't drinking (not at a concerning level anyway), wasn't even yelling foul names at Daryl any chance he could. He never pried, but Merle slowly started filling him in on bits and pieces of what had happened; who she was. Of all the women Daryl imagined would walk around with Merle's name on their wrist, a city raised, civil rights lawyer had never even crossed his mind. When Daryl thought back to those months he barely recognized his own brother, he could only find reinforcement that trying as hard as he could to never find the name on his arm was the best idea he'd ever had.
He thought he was doing a pretty damn good job at it too. Hell, he was going on nearly four decades without the "sorry bitch" as Merle had called her, whose name graced his arm, making so much as an appearance; staying far away from places he imagined a girl named "Beth" would be. Mostly, however, he wished the damn mark would just go away. He knew sometimes the name disappeared for other reasons. People got too far away, they got tired of waiting and found someone else. It wasn't always like Merle; they weren't always just gone. He thought of Rick and Lori and how theirs were long gone after they settled down and he wasted away nights hoping "Beth" would find some unsuspecting bastard to shack up with and he'd wake up one day with a nice, clean wrist.
No such luck.
In fact, he was fucking positive the damn thing had only gotten darker a few years back, the letters sharper and more clearly outlined. Merle had laughed then and mumbled, "must be close by," much to Daryl's distress.
"You gonna go around holdin' hands with officer friendly tonight?" Merle glared at him as the food made its way to their table. When Merle moved to Atlanta, he'd come home to find many things changed. Daryl moved from the shitty shack they'd grown up in to a slightly less shitty apartment on the other side of town, Merle's broken down bike had been repaired and was now fully in Daryl's possession (Daryl assumed that battle with his brother was simply yet to come) and Merle's least favorite development by far, had been Daryl's newfound friendship with the sheriff that had spent the early years of his career with Merle in the backseat of his car.
"Ain't no hand holding," Daryl responded. Merle resenting his friendship with Rick was a sore spot for him. He knew Merle had needed him when he came back into town, but his life had been different without him in it. Better. Rick, Lori, hell, even Carl and Judith had been a part of it. With Merle back in the picture, he felt like the little brother eager to please, eager to follow his big brother around and he too easily fell into that trap and all the shit it brought with it.
"Coulda fooled me."
As if on cue, Daryl's phone began ringing on the table and when Rick's name came up on the screen, he had the urge to not answer it, if only to prove his point to Merle. Suddenly he noticed he was doing it again; playing into his brother's traps and he defiantly plucked the phone from the table and answered.
"Yeah?"
"Hey Daryl," Rick's voice was hesitant; nearly drowned out by what seemed like dozens of other voices in the background. "Are you heading over soon?"
Daryl looked over at Merle uncomfortably. Telling Merle that he was going to the Grimes' that evening, already earned him a scowl. He didn't want to imagine the downright humiliation he'd bring down upon him if he told his brother he was going to the Grimes' to attend a two year old's birthday party; complete with princess theme and a bright pink box stashed underneath the seat of his truck since the night before, when he'd spent far too long sprawled on the floor of his bedroom, scotch tape stuck to his hands, attempting to wrap the damn thing with no results above "mildly crappy".
"Maybe around four or so," he said cryptically. He looked across the diner to the clock sitting above the register; barely noon.
"Would you mind getting here a little earlier? Say in an hour or two?"
"What for? Ya need a clown or something?"
"We have a...bouncy house situation on our hands," the clear exasperation in Rick's voice nearly made Daryl grin. "and I haven't picked up the damn cake. I told Lori I'd get it this morning, and forgot."
"She's gonna kill you," he wasn't even trying to keep his amusement at bay.
"You think I don't know that?" A sigh, and he could almost see the sheriff running his hand through his hair. "Would you mind picking it up? It's on your way into town; the bakery on the corner of Wilson and 7th. They should have it all ready for you."
He wanted to protest; lie and say he didn't have the time to be Rick's errand boy. He would have if it would've been any other situation. Given that it was the little asskicker's birthday, he simply made a big show out of groaning and giving him an affirmative grunt.
"A'right. Be there in a bit."
"What'd I tell you?" Merle threw him a withering glare over a plate of fries as Daryl pocketed his phone. "It'd be better if you were at least whipped by some bitch."
Mumbling something that vaguely sounded like a curse and an order to "shut the fuck up", Daryl stood and threw a few bills on the table.
"At least then you'd be gettin' some!" He heard his brother shout as the bell atop the diner door chimed when he pushed it and stepped into the afternoon sun.
