I really appreciate every single one of you guys for reviewing, favoriting, and following :) it really means a lot to me. I know Beth's character is a little...off, but I feel like when Beth gets angry, she becomes a different person. So that is why I wrote Beth in such a way. I like strong Beth better than defenseless Beth. Anyways! Keep reviewing :) Heres chapter 4!
Beth was intrigued, and no amount of punches in the gut, bloody lips, and bone-crunching jabs could entirely deter that feeling. In fact, it only added to the surreality of the situation and the overall excitement and terror of watching it. Beth bit her lip so hard that it was bleeding just like Daryl's was. Beth wanted to run over with a washcloth or something and dab at Daryl's injuries, but she was more than certain that Daryl might find that a tiny bit awkward if she played nurse for him in the middle of a throwdown. And, she was pretty sure that Flesheater might just live up to his name and eat her face.
Beth had a pretty face. She really couldn't blame someone for trying to eat it.
"Ooof. Man. Dixon is getting his ass handed to him on a fucking platter," Carl cringed.
"He could still pull through," Beth winced as Fleshie kneed Daryl in the gut, causing him to double over.
"This is really bad ass, by the way. I'm glad we decided to try to look for dinosaur bones," Carl nudged Beth.
"I can't...oh no," Beth hid her eyes behind her hand, not able to focus on Carl's words. "Come on, Daryl. Show me that fighting spirit," she whispered under her breath, not even caring that her words of encouragement were corny.
Beth peeked out from between her tense fingers just in time to see Flesheater take a violent swing to the side of Daryl's head. Beth braced herself for the telltale sound of the impact but she didn't hear it. Instead, the crowd went crazy- applauding, cheering and shouting Dixon's name. Beth put her hand down and watched with wide eyes. Daryl had tackled the giant oaf to the ground, pinned him by wrapping his legs around the underside of the beast's legs, and was punching his face with consecutive and strong hits.
The sound was sickening, fists connecting with bone and flesh. The telltale gushing of blood.
The referee got down on one knee near the action. His eyes were filled with excitement and Beth wanted to be disgusted by the man, the man who looked utterly in rapture by the destruction of body parts. But then Beth realized that her own facial expression and attention could elicit similar assumptions.
Flesheater got a few punches in, making Daryl almost fall off the top of him, but eventually he stopped flailing and lashing back. Daryl slowed his punches and defensively hopped off of him and then back a few feet, fists at the ready in case Flesheater planned a retaliation. The referee zeroed in on Flesheater, determining if he was defeated or if perhaps he had a second wind in him. Daryl wiped at his mouth and didn't even look around at the cheering crowd, acting as if they didn't even exist.
Beth squinted her eyes and tried to guess what Daryl was thinking in that moment as he rubbed at his right hand and glared down at the body on the ground. Was it as sign pure disdain that Daryl felt for Flesheater? Or was it actually disdain for himself.
Beth cut her psycho-babble thoughts short as she watch the referee put his ear close to Flesheater's mouth. Beth honestly worried for the man's face, being in such close proximity to the teeth of a person with such a name.
"He's breathing...but barely! Looks like we have a winner in the underdog!" The referee stood up and grabbed one of Daryl's bloody up hands. "DIXON!"
The crowd went wild and Beth had to cover her ears to block the impeding and harsh sounds.
"He won, man!" Carl gave Beth's arm a celebratory punch but Beth blocked it, just like her trainer had taught her. "Whoa-ho," Carl chuckled. "Easy there. Maybe you should go over there and fight."
"Yeah right," Beth laughed but she couldn't help but have the fleeting thought about what it would be like if she were a fighter. She would have to train a lot more...but she didn't doubt herself entirely. Beth shook her head at the ludicrous idea. Even she knew that she was far too dainty for such a life. Plus, she was a girl. There was no way she was going to fight a 250 man.
There was the echoing of a siren in the distance and then a collective gasp.
"DISPERSE!" The announcer yelled. "SEE YOU GUYS NEXT FIGHT." Beth stood sort of frozen amongst the chaos and watched as the referee handed Daryl an envelope, patted him on the back, and then took off running. Just like the rest of the crowd. But Daryl continued to stand there, looking down at the envelope with a stoic face, not betraying any emotions.
"Come on," Carl urged. "We've gotta get going. I'll get busted for the weed."
"Not if you don't act suspicious!" Beth lazily tried to hit Carl on the shoulder and missed it by at least a foot.
"Yeah, I don't look suspicious at all," Carl laughed. "Come on."
"I wanna see if he's okay, though!" Beth looked to where Daryl had started limping off.
"Beth. I'm not gonna let you go over to a guy who just kicked a 250 pound man's ass."
"But I know him!" Beth argued. "Look, I have my phone. I'm just gonna go talk to him real quick. You go back in the club."
Carl narrowed his eyes. "Even my high isn't hiding my bad feeling about this. Let me come with you."
"No, he won't talk to me if you're there. He's super private and kind of cryptic."
"You're really not making me feel better about letting you go over there," Carl sighed with concern.
"I'm a grown woman, Carl, I can take care of myself," Beth huffed, a little annoyed. "Besides, I have my phone and you have yours. If anything goes wrong, I'll call you."
Carl shook his head but conceded. "Fine. But if you get your ass kicked-"
Beth smiled. "Thanks." She tightened the coat around her body, shivering lightly.
Carl rolled his eyes and nodded, gave an uneasy smile, flickering his gaze to Daryl, and then left Beth. Beth took a deep breath and then headed over to Daryl, who had made it a little ways away already.
Beth rounded the darkened corner of one of the surrounding buildings, following in tow. To be honest, the whole thing was creepy and more than likely quite dangerous. But, she had been around Daryl before. Daryl had sort of kind of saved her life, or at least her virtue. Definitely had allowed her to avoid some seriously traumatic emotional damage. Thus, she inextricably felt like he could trust him.
She approached Daryl as he was staggering off and her heart wrenched when she saw him spit blood on the grimy pavement. She felt an urge, a want, to comfort him.
"Daryl," Beth whispered and it echoed in the barren alleyway.
Daryl whipped his head around, eyes darting about and clearly searching for the person who knew his name. When his gaze landed on Beth at last, he froze.
"Beth? What the fuck are ya doin' here?" Daryl hissed. Still an asshole, Beth thought.
"Daryl..." Beth said softer this time, practically floating over to him, or at least it felt like that; she was still buzzing from the bit of alcohol she consumed.
Daryl's brow furrowed and he hissed, immediately bringing his hand up to his bloody eyebrow.
"Wow. That looks bad," Beth grimaced.
Daryl shook his head and gave Beth a fixed glare. "What the hell do ya want?"
Beth stepped back. "Seriously? I just wanted to check on you."
"Why? What are you even doing here?" Daryl licked at his broken lip.
"I was at that club," Beth pointed. "I came outside and saw a crowd gathering," Beth nodded slowly.
"Did you watch?" Daryl gently quirked his uninjured eyebrow.
"Yeah, I did," Beth breathed, and they once again shared a moment of silent appraisal. Daryl's lip was bleeding and his eyebrow was cut, his cheek glowed with the promise of bruising. But he still looked... Beth's train of thought was cut off when-
"Ya have ta go," Daryl suddenly urged and then groaned, grabbing his side.
"I will but, what hurts?" Beth addressed Daryl's side.
"Fuck. Broken ribs, prob'ly. At least that's what it feels like," Daryl sighed and lifted his shirt, revealing a sculpted but abused abdomen. In the pale moonlight and the meager glow from the streetlamps afar, Beth could see dark, almost black spots that were definitely indicative of some underlying damage. Beth took a moment to take in various scars that adorned Daryl's otherwise smooth skin. Some fresher, some faint, others that were merely thin lines. From fingernails? Knives? Beth wasn't sure.
"Let me help you. Take you to the hospital or something," Beth flailed a bit and Daryl just pushed his shirt down with a bitter laugh.
"Surely ya ain't stupid. But do ya think I am? What I do is obviously illegal. I can't jus' stroll into a fuckin' hospital. I have people who can patch me up," Daryl spit more blood along with his unpleasant tone. "Ya really need ta go," he said as he glanced at an extravagant watch on his left wrist.
"Why do you keep saying that? There's nobody else here, Daryl," Beth motioned around them with her hands.
"Stop usin' my name like that," Daryl growled. "And there will be people. Fuckin' go," he reached out and shoved Beth a little in a move to encourage her to leave. Weeks of self-defense classes and a stubborn demeanor caused Beth to reflexively shove back, hard. Daryl stumbled and fell to the ground in his weakened state, looking up at Beth with shocked eyes.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," Beth murmured and reached down a hand to help Daryl up.
But before she could- "Well, well. Ya already got another fight fer the night, Dixon?" a booming, cold voice trailed through the alley.
Beth squinted down through the partial darkness and saw the shadowed outline of three men and a woman. Two, she recognized from that night at the shop. The other two were unknown, and the one that spoke was deeper complected with sculpted facial features. His dark hair was shorn short, almost bald on his head but expressed itself more so with the scruff on his face.
He could have been an attractive man, but his evil grin completely marred the possibility. Beth saw the prosthetic the man had on his right arm; a knife was in place of a hand.
Daryl stood up as quickly as his injuries would allow. "Nah, Merle. It was jus' an misunderstandin'," he gulped.
"Really? 'Cause it looks like ya jus' let this prissy girl knock ya ta the ground," Merle smirked. "Ain't ya gonna hit back?"
Beth glared at the man's adjective for him while Daryl's eyes darted nervously between the two.
"She's uh, she's not a fighter, man," Daryl supplied. "Seriously, jus' wrong place at the wrong time kind of thing."
Merle laughed. "That's even more pathetic. Bein' taken down by a priss who don' fight. I didn't take ya fer a pussy. Maybe I was wrong." The rest of the group joined in on his sudden and raucous laughter.
Beth couldn't resist the urge to speak, having finally found her courage in response to the word 'pussy'. She loathed that word, especially when used in a derogatory manner. "It was my mistake, I don't want a fight. I'll just get out of your way," she said and began to back up.
"Unfortunately fer ya, I do want a fight," Merle licked his lips and smirked. "I ain't goin' ta let my best fighter get knocked ta the ground by a pretty girl without hittin' back. That's not how I fuckin' trained ya," Merle glared at Daryl.
Daryl looked at Beth with an uninterpretable gaze before turning to Merle. "I ain't. She ain't a part of this, she's just a girl." he mumbled.
There was silence amongst the posse. "Yeah?" The woman in the back raised a thick eyebrow. "Then she can fight me." Beth whipped her head to look at the woman. She was dark skin, and had dreads. A katana graced her back. "Guess I'll have to make her pay, instead," she flexed her hands and cracked her knuckles, slowly rounding on Beth.
"No!" Daryl shouted and Beth was thankful for his intervention. "Michonne...I'll fight him," he said with an uncharacteristically shaky voice.
Beth was fucked. Apparently she wasn't getting out of this without a fight. She could try to haul ass, but she was an awkward runner. She debated sneakily trying to dial Maggie's or Carl's number on her phone nestled in her pocket, but she really didn't want to get them mixed up in this, too. She was pissed at herself that Carl's bad feeling had come to some fruition. She looked over at Daryl with strained eyes, he was already in such bad shape. Beth couldn't in good conscience fight him, not when Daryl had tried to protect her from this Merle asshole.
Beth set her expression determinedly and decided to make possibly the stupidest decision of her life. She just hoped that her training would help her at least a little.
"No. I want to fight you," she looked Michonne directly in the eyes.
Daryl shook his head and Merle's laugh was a mixture of joyful and sinister.
"This night jus' got interestin', guys," Merle grinned at Michonne, who was taking off the sword on her back.
Beth gulped and wondered over the fact that she had only been around Daryl twice and she had found herself in danger that she had not provoked, both times. Really, what were the odds?
"Beth, what the fuck are ya doin'?" Daryl voiced and all of them looked at him.
"You know this chick's name?" the tall blonde from the shop spoke up.
"I met her once, Knox. She jus' saw the fight and came over ta say...hello," Daryl attempted, addressing the blonde.
"How sweet. So glad you could reunite. That doesn't change anything. Priss challenged me and I never back down from a fight. Unlike some people," Michonne glared at Daryl.
Daryl just looked down at the ground and took a deep breath, wincing and grabbing at his ribs.
"Get this asshole patched up while I handle this situation, Leech," Merle addressed the brunette guy from that night, three months before.
Even in her moment of horror, Beth was really not impressed by Leech's name. Leech immediately went over and shrugged his backpack off his shoulder, pulling out supplies. Daryl leaned against the wall and kept his eyes trained on Beth as Leech started patching him up.
Beth was starting to feel too on edge to handle the tension. "Are we going to do this, or what?" She found herself spitting out.
"So you have some bark?" Michonne smirked, thankfully taking the rings off her fingers and stowing them in her pocket. "But do you have the bite to back it up..." She pursed her lips and walked in a circle around Beth, sizing up her challenge, looking at Beth as if she weren't a challenge at all.
Beth stood frozen, turning her eyes to lock with Daryl's. They were having a moment of inexplicable connection. It was as if Beth was feeding off of Daryl's energy, like she wanted to beat this chick up if only to show Daryl she could. That she was able to take care of herself.
So without further ado, Beth punched Michonne in the face.
Michonne stumbled backward and held her hand over her cheekbone where Beth had hit, looking at Beth with genuinely surprised eyes. She stood dumbfounded for a second before grinning.
"Fuck yeah," she heard Merle say. Michonne came back toward Beth, who had her hands up in defense. Michonne went for a swing and Beth ducked away from it, kicking the woman in the knee with the flat of her foot. When Michonne struggled, Beth took the opportunity to take out her other leg as well. She grabbed the woman by the shoulders and kneed her squarely in the inner thigh, just near her crotch. She didn't want to win this fight by copping to kicking her in the core, she wanted to win it fairly, even if she was unfairly in this situation.
Michonne groaned and grabbed Beth around the middle, tackling her down to the ground. Beth flailed underneath her as Michonne grabbed her by the throat, squeezing just hard enough to constrict her airway before head-butting her.
The alleyway around her went fuzzy for a moment and she thought she might pass out from the pain. Her brain literally felt jumbled as she came to her senses enough to wrap her spidery legs around Michonne's back, thrusting her hips up and using the strength of her lower body to flip them over so that she was on top.
The reactions of the men around them didn't even phase Beth, she was so absorbed. There was only one thing that affected Beth during the fight besides the instinct of survival; the fact that Daryl looked worried, but also...impressed?
Beth locked her legs around Michonne's, prohibiting her from getting up, and twisted her arm backward until the woman was crying out.
"You asshole," Michonne moaned. "Get the hell off of me," she growled as she took her free hand and pulled hard at Beth's hair, raking her fingernails down her neck.
"Aaaah," Beth whined and let go of her hold for a moment, grabbing her neck and feeling the fresh blood there.
Michonne took this opportunity to get out from underneath Beth, standing up and getting back into fighting stance.
Beth stumbled to her feet, her head still swimming.
"You can fight, kid. But you can't beat me," Michonne admitted and then the sick woman smiled, rounding on Beth as if she hadn't been inflicted at all.
In a moment of surreal slow motion, Beth turned her head toward Daryl Daryl's eyes were set with such determination. He licked his bloody lips and then gave an almost imperceptible nod. Like he was telling Beth- don't let her take you.
That was all Beth needed.
"I wasn't even trying before," Beth said with a confidence that shocked even herself, and advanced toward Michonne with a newfound vigor...