Stronger Than A Promise
Beth could feel Daryl's body tensing up. She sensed his wall rising high once more. He sniffled loudly and cleared his throat.
"Don't go makin' promises ya can't keep," he murmured.
Before she could respond, he was shaking her off and reaching for the doorknob again. He didn't turn back as he grabbed it, or even turn his head to meet her eyes. He simply nodded towards the direction of the barn in the distance, where Hershel was emerging with Oscar and Big Tiny and Shawn.
"Gotta get back out there," Daryl said. "I'll talk t'ya later."
She started, "Daryl—"
But he'd already stepped out onto the porch. He slammed the door shut behind him, cutting off her words.
She rushed to the window and watched as he descended the porch steps and took a second to compose himself—to wipe his face clean with the backs of his hands and take a deep breath, straightening his posture. Then he jogged across the grass and over to the barn to meet the other men.
Beth sighed and turned around. She half-expected to find the seat at the kitchen table empty. But Merle was still sitting there. Still watching her. And he was frowning.
"What?" She snapped. "No smartass comments this time? Did I do it right, or are you about to criticize me?"
Merle rolled his eyes, still frowning. "'S much as I don't like some'a the shit y'all said… Reckon ya did 'bout as well as ya could."
"Yeah, well…" She shrugged and swiped a hand across her face to wipe away the tears. "Dixons ain't turnips."
He cracked a smile. "Now yer startin' ta get it, blondie."
And Greenes ain't doormats, she thought.
She turned and gazed out the window again, watching as Hershel led Daryl, Oscar, and Big Tiny across the yard and towards the horse stables. She kept her eyes trained on Daryl.
He trailed behind the group slowly, but he wasn't staring at his boots the whole time. Instead, he was glancing over at the house every few seconds. As though he were searching for her. Or thinking about her.
She turned back and opened her mouth to talk to Merle, but he'd already disappeared.
A couple of hours passed. Beth busied herself with the rest of her morning chores. She tried not to think and worry about Daryl, but what else did she have to think about?
Merle had disappeared, and so far, he wasn't popping back up. And Hershel and Shawn were off at the other end of the farm, introducing the new guys to the livestock. And Daryl was probably trailing along behind them. Acres away from where she was.
She kept replaying their conversation in her head. Rethinking everything she'd said and every move she'd made. Doubting herself for hugging him in a time when she'd thought he needed a hug. Maybe she'd screwed it all up by getting too… close. When he so clearly wanted to keep her at a distance.
But she knew that this would never work if he kept pushing her away. Whether he liked it or not, they had to have some kind of friendship in order to save his soul. In order to fulfill Papa Legba's deal. She simply couldn't find the answers necessary without getting a little closer.
At what cost, though? That's what she couldn't stop asking herself. She'd already dove way too deep into Daryl's head. And she'd felt every bit of it. Just like she'd felt every bit of Dale's past, and Andrea's. And now… The Governor's.
She didn't like this. There was absolutely no part of it that was enjoyable for her. In fact, it was borderline torture. Yet she couldn't seem to convince Daryl of such.
She was halfway through mucking out the stables when a rough voice echoed around her, interrupting her thoughts.
"Greene."
Beth whipped her head around, expecting to find Merle standing behind her. Instead, she found Daryl. He was leaning against the open door, arms crossed over his chest, watching her through the fringe of his shaggy hair.
She bristled and turned back to focus on shoveling horse shit. "Dixon."
"That thing y'said earlier—'bout our moms…"
She froze and slowly glanced over her shoulder. He'd uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands into his pockets, taking a step forward and stopping a few feet in front of the open door. He was worrying his lower lip. Studying her reaction.
She didn't say anything. And she knew that was enough of a response.
He cleared his throat. "Y'asked which is worse. But they're… not comparable."
"I know," she said flatly. "Pain is a spectrum."
"Yeah," he agreed. "It is. An' I think that's what pisses me off most."
She furrowed her brow, finally turning her body to face him. She softened her tone. "What d'you mean?"
He shrugged awkwardly and looked down at his boots. "No matter how much ya see, you won't ever really know what it was like. Compared ta how you was raised…"
"You're right," she sighed. "But—"
"But we both been to the same dark place," he interrupted.
She snapped her lips shut.
He went on, "An' you been feelin' a lotta other people's pain over the last week. And… well, it's a spectrum. What yer goin' through is somethin' I couldn't ever fathom. Havin' that kinda power an' not knowin' how to control it…" He paused. Hesitated. Licked his lips and glanced away for a second. Then he finished, "I can be kind of a dick. When I feel cornered. When I get… scared."
She pursed her lips and swallowed hard. Her hand tightened around the handle of the shovel, nearly forgotten as she stood frozen and staring at Daryl. She didn't want to agree. But she kinda wanted to.
She gave a terse nod. "It's okay. I understand."
He shrugged again. Cleared his throat. Grunted awkwardly and met her gaze for no more than a heartbeat.
Then he mumbled, "You wanna go inta town an' get lunch when you're done with yer chores?"
Beth blinked, dumbfounded. Her mouth reflexively curled up into a half-smile. "Together?"
Daryl scoffed. "Yeah, together. 'Less ya gotta stay here an' make lunch fer yer dad or whatever."
"No—yeah, I want to," she responded eagerly. "My dad can fend for himself fer one meal."
Once her morning chores were finished, Beth rushed upstairs to freshen up and change clothes. She kept glancing over her shoulder, expecting Merle to appear at any moment. But he didn't.
It was both a surprise and a relief.
She glanced out her bedroom window once more before heading downstairs, just to assure herself that Daryl was still waiting for her outside. He was mingling around his bike, talking and laughing with Oscar and Big Tiny. Shawn stood a few feet away, and he had a smile on his face for a change.
She grabbed her purse and phone and went downstairs, headed straight for the front door. But she heard the TV from the den and paused. She turned back and headed towards the sound.
Just as she'd expected, she found her father sitting on the couch in the den, sipping his late morning coffee and watching the 11 o'clock Atlanta news. She stepped through the doorway and stopped, waiting for him to acknowledge her presence. He tore his eyes away from the TV screen and met her gaze with a warm smile.
"Hey, Doodlebug. What d'you wanna do for lunch?"
"Actually, Daddy, I was gonna go out fer lunch today—Daryl offered to take me into town."
"Oh, did he now?" Hershel smiled knowingly.
She ignored his obvious implications and asked, "You want me to make you a sandwich or somethin' before I leave?"
He shook his head, still smiling. "No, no, Shawn an' I can fend for ourselves. You go have your lunch date with Daryl."
Beth tensed. "Daddy, it's not a date. It's just lunch."
"Whatever you say," Hershel teased, still smiling. He took a long sip of coffee, all the while his bright blue eyes were set on her.
She glanced away. "Seriously, Dad, it's not like…"
But she trailed off. Her gaze had drifted towards the TV screen and the news broadcast. A reporter was standing on the banks of a river, surrounded by dozens of police and investigative teams and yellow Caution tape, a microphone in their hand and a headline posted across the bottom of the screen.
"Body Found at Sope Creek Trail"
The reporter was speaking into the microphone with a very somber expression on their face, "—washed up on the shore. Found wrapped in black garbage bags by an early morning jogger, this body is believed to be that of the woman who was reported missing yesterday afternoon. So far, the police have no suspects beyond a vague description of two younger black men, as claimed by the husband…"
Beth shivered. Though she wasn't sure why. She was reminded of the report that had come over Rick's radio the night before—about the missing woman and how all the officers should Be On The Lookout.
And for some reason, she was reminded of the screaming that had torn her from a dead sleep in the middle of the night.
Hershel's gentle voice demanded her attention as he said, "Bethy, it's alright. I was just teasin'. Go have lunch with Daryl. I'll see ya when you get back. But you be sure an' thank him fer introducin' us to Oscar and Big Tiny, alright?"
She tore her eyes away from the screen and simply nodded. "Okay, Daddy. I will."
The ride into town was mostly quiet except for Daryl occasionally telling Beth to "hold on" whenever he would take a turn a little faster than usual. She had her arms wrapped around his middle the whole time, much like they'd been in her kitchen. But it was difficult to talk over the noise of the motorcycle and through the thick glass of her helmet. She did notice, however, that he seemed a lot more relaxed. At least for now.
They slowed as they entered city limits and drove through town. Beth loosened her grasp on Daryl and took in the sight of Senoia, admiring all the Halloween decorations and trying to spot familiar faces. She began to wonder if anyone would recognize her on the back of Daryl's bike. And if so, what would they say about it? Hershel Greene's youngest daughter riding around town with a Dixon boy would surely become a new topic of gossip. She just hoped the gossip wouldn't be too harsh.
Then they turned onto Broad Street and slowed again, and she realized he was taking her to Jerry's Diner. She smiled beneath the helmet.
Seconds later, Daryl had parked in front of the diner and silenced the motorcycle, kicking down the kickstand and waiting for Beth to take off her helmet and dismount.
"My favorite place," she remarked, beaming and resituating her braided hair over her shoulder. "Good choice."
Daryl flashed her a hint of a smile and said, "Ain't been able ta stop thinkin' 'bout that cobbler fer the last two days."
Beth laughed and followed him to the front door, where he held it open and stepped aside so she could enter first. He walked in close behind her and the little bell above their heads jingled to announce their arrival.
The diner was rapidly filling up for the lunch rush. Another small group of people entered right behind Beth and Daryl, and Beth had to look around quickly to find an empty table. She spotted one off to the left in the corner, a round table with two high stools opposite of one another. Daryl followed her wordlessly and waited for her to sit before he took the other seat.
But Beth felt like she was being watched. She glanced around, once again expecting to find Merle lingering about somewhere. Then her eyes landed on a familiar face across the diner—a pair of dark brown eyes that were locked on her. Thin lips set in a frown.
Dale Horvath.
As soon as she met his gaze, he glanced away and busied himself with the half-eaten steak before him and the newspaper in his hand. Beth was about to raise her hand and wave at him, but something told her it would be best to just pretend she hadn't seen him at all.
"Wha'ssamatter?" Daryl asked.
She hadn't realized she was frowning until he said something. She gave him a reassuring smile and shrugged.
"Nothin'. But Mr. Horvath is over there," she said quietly, jerking her chin in the direction of Dale's table.
Daryl glanced over and spotted the old man, who was still focused on his lunch and newspaper. "Huh. Did he see ya?"
"Yeah. But when we made eye contact, he ignored me." She hesitated before asking, "D'you think I should go say hi, or…?"
Daryl shook his head. "Nah. Leave it be. He's pro'lly still sore 'bout the other day."
Her stomach twisted and she silently prayed that she hadn't ruined her good standing with one of her longtime family friends all because of her lousy Gift. She was still admonishing herself for having said too much when she was inside Dale's office.
How many bridges would she be forced to burn before this was over?
She sighed and muttered, "I just don't want him to hate me. Or think less of me."
"He don't hate ya," Daryl assured. "What's it matter, anyhow?"
Beth shrugged, her eyes flicking over to Dale's table for a split-second before settling on Daryl. "I dunno. It just does. I don't want anybody to think badly of me. It feels like I let him down somehow. Or disappointed him. He's known me for years. He's always supported me, always thought I was a good kid. I don't wanna lose all that just because I'm… Gifted."
Daryl grunted and glanced away, down at the tabletop. "Yeah. I get it."
She knew he did. But it was nice to hear every now and then.
A waitress approached to hand them menus and take their drink orders before rushing off to tend to another table. Beth left her menu unopened because she'd already memorized it and knew exactly what she wanted, but Daryl opened his and started skimming through to decide what he might order. A silence fell between them and a moment later, the waitress returned with their drinks and took their food orders. Then she was gone again, taking the menus with her.
Daryl seemed to relax a bit as he sipped from the steaming mug of black coffee he'd ordered. Beth kept her hands wrapped around the cold glass of sweet tea before her, unable to decide on a spot to settle her gaze. She kept glancing across the diner at Dale, then across the table at Daryl, and then down at the glass in her hands.
Daryl noticed the expression on her face, and how her eyes kept moving. "Y'really think he's gonna hold a grudge just 'cause you came in askin' about Philip?" He asked, keeping his voice low as he leaned over with his elbows rested on the table.
"No," Beth admitted. "But I can't imagine he'll ever be able to look at me again without feelin' a little sad. Or a little scared."
Daryl's brows knit together in confusion. "Scared? What'cha mean?"
She frowned. "I… brought up his late wife. And the baby they lost. I was tryin' to be reassuring—like, to ease his conscience or whatever—but I think all it did was open up an old wound. 'Cause I wasn't supposed to know about that, and I shouldn't've said anything." She paused, sighing sadly. "He'd never understand. Even if I tried to explain."
"Most people wouldn't," Daryl agreed. "But that's on them. You's just tryin' to help the only way ya knew how."
She smiled weakly, keeping her eyes on him even as he averted his gaze down towards his coffee. "So you do get it."
He furrowed his brow and met her gaze. But she saw the way the corner of his mouth ticked up with the hint of a smirk. He murmured, "Better'an most, I guess. Still learnin'."
She huffed out a breath, stomach fluttering at his words. Though the slightest hint of guilt was still weighing heavy in her gut. Her smile faded and she said, "I really do respect you, y'know. Even if you can be kind of a dick sometimes."
He narrowed his eyes, frowning. "Thanks, I guess."
Beth rolled her eyes, shaking her head and reiterating, "I just mean—yer not a dick. But I understand why you get so defensive. I understand you wantin' to protect yourself."
Daryl hummed quietly but said nothing, taking a slow sip of coffee and studying her thoughtfully.
She cleared her throat and wrapped her hands tighter around her glass of tea, the condensation leaving her palms damp. "And I didn't wanna see all that… stuff. But it just made me respect you more. Honestly, I kinda… envy you."
He barked out a humorless laugh and looked at her like she'd grown a second head. "Envy me? The hell's that s'posed ta mean?"
She sighed. "Look, I know I grew up a lot more privileged than most people. I know I was lucky—or blessed, or whatever you wanna call it—when it comes to my family an' my childhood an' all that. But I can't help feelin' like all that privilege made me… weak." She paused, hesitating. Though she met his eyes with unabashed honesty. "I've always felt like the weakest one of the bunch. My daddy's tough as nails. My brother is, too. Maggie never gives up—never even thinks about it. She's just as strong as our dad an' Shawn. Even my mom was… stronger than I could ever imagine being."
Daryl snorted and shook his head. "Shawn an' Maggie? Stronger'an you? Says who?"
Beth pulled one hand away from her glass and laid it flat on the table, turning it over to pointedly reveal the scar on her wrist. "Says me."
His lips snapped shut as soon as his eyes flickered over the scar. He took a swig of coffee before meeting her gaze again, frowning sadly.
She pulled her hand back and wrapped it around her glass again, heaving a sigh. "I just… wish I could be more like you. Stronger."
"An' what makes ya think I'm strong? You saw all the shit I put up with. All the abuse I rolled over an' took. All the shit I didn't do nothin' about 'til it was too damn late."
"Yeah. And I also saw how you refused to let any of it beat you down. How you defied all the odds to make sure you didn't become like your dad or your brother. You love to read, even though your daddy hated it. You have a job and a stable home and a good group of friends, even though Merle wanted you to rely on him. You stayed a good man through it all. You didn't let it define you, even when everybody else thought it would. And you don't give a crap what anybody else thinks of you, 'cause you know who you are. You're just… so much stronger than I could ever be."
She could see his ears turning pink beneath his hair, and he was once again staring down at his coffee.
"Ain't strong 'cause I wanted t'be," he mumbled.
"Exactly," she agreed. "You never did things 'cause they were easy. You did 'em because they were right. And that's how I wanna be. I don't wanna run away from an opportunity to be strong just because it scares me."
He seemed to be ruminating on her words for a long moment. She glanced over towards the other side of the diner to see that Dale's booth was vacant. She was beginning to wonder when he'd slipped out.
But then Daryl was speaking lowly. "Know what I wish?"
Beth set her attention back on him. "What?"
He flicked his eyes up to meet hers and said, "I wish I could look into yer head like you did mine. See yer memories."
"Huh?" She was taken aback and couldn't help but chuckle uncertainly. "Why would you wanna do that?"
"I'ono." He shrugged, almost sheepish. "Jus' ta see what it was like. Growin' up happy. Knowin' y'always got somebody who's gonna care. Feelin' all that… hope. All that damn belonging." He shook his head and tore his eyes away from hers, looking down like he was ashamed. "Said you can feel people's emotions when yer in their memories, an' I think I'd like ta feel that. What you feel. Even if it's just fer a few seconds. Think I'd like ta see what the world looks like through your eyes. No matter how brief."
Beth wasn't sure how to react or respond. She blinked rapidly, struck speechless.
Yet her heart both ached and raced for him. And she couldn't quite figure out why or how that was.
When it became clear that he wasn't going to say any more, she cleared her throat and said, "Y'know, you said not to make promises I can't keep, but—"
He grunted, cutting her off. "I didn't—"
"No, Daryl, I'm serious," she insisted. "You don't have to believe me, but I meant it. I don't make promises that I know I can't keep."
His eyes flicked up to meet hers from across the table.
She concluded, "Even after all this is over, I'll still be your friend. Or… I'd like to. If you want."
Beth wasn't quite sure why, but her pulse was speeding up and she suddenly felt nervous. Afraid he'd reject her or brush her off.
Then Daryl scoffed. "Friends, huh?"
Or more than friends, she briefly thought. Though she quickly admonished herself for it and shoved the thought away.
She arched an eyebrow and said, "If you want another friend. Yeah."
He hmphed softly and shrugged, taking a sip of coffee. Then he muttered, "Y'seem pretty damn stubborn. Reckon I won't have much say in the matter."
It took her a second to realize he was joking with her. He shot her a lighthearted smirk and she grinned back, her pulse returning to normal. "Got that right, Dixon. We're friends now, an' there's nothing you can do about it," she teased. "You might call it bein' stubborn, but I like to think of it as being determined."
"Guess I should be grateful then," he remarked.
"For what?"
"All that damn determination. Who else would'a put up with all this jus' ta save my poor soul?"
She couldn't help but laugh. And then he was laughing with her. And for just a moment, everything felt alright.
She could do this. She could save Daryl's soul. And Merle's. And maybe she had enough determination to save The Governor himself. Maybe she could find the strength to do what was right, and not just what was easy.
Then again, she reminded herself, she'd already come this far, hadn't she? There was no walking away now. She'd made a promise to Merle. A promise to Daryl.
And she wouldn't make a promise that she knew she couldn't keep.
Once their conversation tapered off and their food arrived, Beth and Daryl ate in companionable silence. After that, they ordered dessert—Jerry's famous cobbler, of course—and discussed their thoughts about the plan with Rick and what they might expect. They were both anxious to hear from the sheriff and meet up with him later in the day.
Just as the waitress was delivering the check and taking away their empty dessert plates, Daryl leaned forward and asked Beth quietly, "So Merle ain't been here this whole time?"
She shook her head and said, "Not since we were in the kitchen this mornin'."
Daryl hummed. "Wonder what he's up to."
And as if Daryl had summoned the man himself, a chill ran down Beth's spine and she whipped her head to the side to see Merle lurking behind her with a smug smirk on his face, arms crossed over his chest.
She sighed in exasperation and gave Daryl a look. "Speak of the devil," she muttered.
"And he shall appear!" Merle cackled from behind her. "Miss me, blondie?"
"Where's he been?" Daryl asked, glancing past her shoulder like he might catch a glimpse of his dead brother.
"Had better things t'do than listen to y'all fallin' all over each other in yer trauma bondin'," Merle remarked with a scoff.
Beth rolled her eyes and murmured from the corner of her mouth, "Better things to do?"
"Yeah!" Merle confirmed. "Like droppin' in on Officer Friendly. Try'na figure out what kinda friends he's got to call. What the fuck kinda half-assed plan he's cookin' up."
Daryl quirked an eyebrow and looked to Beth expectantly. "Well? What better things did he have t'do?"
She frowned and translated, "Claims he was checkin' in on Rick to see what kinda plan he's comin' up with."
"Well," Daryl said. "Said he was gonna make some calls an' shit. So did he?"
She glanced back to Merle for an answer, but he just shrugged. "Shit, I guess. He was makin' phone calls all day. Some nerd in Atlanta, sounded like. Talkin' 'bout trackers an' recording devices an' whatnot. Fuck if I know."
Beth sighed and shook her head, turning back to Daryl. "He didn't learn anything. But Rick's definitely workin' on something. Making phone calls and lookin' into recording devices. Stuff like that."
Daryl nodded, seemingly pleased with the response. "Good. Maybe he'll have some decent ideas when we talk to 'im tonight."
"I hope so," Beth lamented. "'Cause I'm really not tryin' to walk into this blind. We still don't know what The Governor's capable of, or what this party is really gonna be like."
"Relax, princess," Merle chided. "Not like yer walkin' into some satanic ritual. 'S just a damn party. Speakin'a which, y'all better be workin' on costumes, 'cause ol' Ricky boy's already Googlin' Halloween stores."
She groaned. "Shit."
Daryl furrowed his brow. "What?"
Beth grimaced and said, "We gotta come up with costumes for this masquerade party."
Daryl's face fell and he leaned back in his seat. "So we gotta find time t'make a trip to the goddamn costume store, too?" He shook his head, heaving a sigh of exasperation. "Son of a bitch."
Merle guffawed. "Aw, hell yeah! This really is like a shitty eighties movie! And we're due fer a costume montage!"
to be continued…