"Survival is the ability to swim in strange water" - Frank Herbert
Beth stopped struggling a few miles back after she was snatched up on the road. She doesn't know who these men are, but back before the world ended, this kind of abduction usually meant something she doesn't want to contemplate. After the apocalypse, she doesn't think it's anything better.
Because she's handcuffed in the backseat as punishment for her protests about their supposed rescue, they aren't paying close attention to her anymore. She tries to think like Maggie, and what her sister would do. Easing down into the seat, she pretends to sleep as the two men bitch about the bullshit night patrols being reinforced by them finding a refugee.
She refrains from a derisive snort. If these jerks wanted to reduce their time out in the dark, carrying her back against her will seems the height of stupidity.
Very carefully, she eases her arms down as far as they can go, reaching back to old gymnastic tricks her friends who were allowed the lessons taught her. One thing about life at the prison, she's in good shape and hasn't lost her flexibility. Once she's got her wrists back in front of her, she thinks on her next step.
Television would dictate she either choke one of the men with the cuffs or escape the moving vehicle. A snide voice that sounds oddly like Daryl says of course that Hollywood shit don't work. She lies still again, listening for clues as to where she's being taken.
Her chance for escape comes unexpectedly. The big car screeches to a halt with a thudding crash that rolls her into the floorboard. Both men get out of the car, cursing, and she hears the word deer and tries not to laugh. It seems car versus animal is still part of their world.
Since the men seem to be debating strapping the deer to the hood, with confusing commentary about guinea pig dinners, she peeks over the seat. The deer somehow ended up in the far ditch, so both men are at least twenty-five feet away from the car right now.
Stealing the car might be a good idea if she was certain it wasn't damaged. She also doesn't know where she is to risk driving a large, unfamiliar car in the dark. Despite the fact that she's terrified of being weaponless in the dark, she's less afraid of walkers than what awaits her at the end of this ride.
Easing the door open, Beth slips out of the car and pushes the door shut. They're not in the country anymore. What city it is, she can't tell in the dark, but there's too much concrete and asphalt for anything else. She makes it behind a wrecked truck and risks a look back.
Tweedledum and Tweedledee are still arguing over the deer. She tries to remember everything Daryl taught her about moving quietly, hoping it translates to city streets as well as the woods. Nothing moves anywhere as she stays in the shadows of the buildings. Instinct tells her to flee indoors, but she fights it down. The more distance she puts between herself and the men, the better.
She begins scanning parking lots and residential yards for weapons. Her first one is a broken shovel handle, but it's better than nothing. It's not like she hasn't seen improvised weapons regularly now.
Dawn is lightening the sky when exhaustion starts winning out over the desperate need to put space between her and any pursuit. She can read enough signs now to know she's in Atlanta. With better light, she assesses the businesses she's passing.
The old bakery seems like a good idea on the surface, but she's heard too many stories about survivors crossing paths at food resource locations. Alone, with no real weapon? She doesn't want to risk meeting people, especially the type that venture into a dangerous area like the city.
A few buildings down she spots a building that makes her smother a sob. She trudges forward, feet sore and feeling like lead. At the door to the building, she traces her fingers across the lettering still intact on unbroken class. She can't bring herself to damage the painted animals gamboling across the glass.
Instead, she circles the building. It's much easier to use her shovel handle to break the narrow glass in the back door. She tenses to see if the noise will bring unwanted attention. Nothing stirs, and she picks away the remaining glass with trembling fingers.
Reaching through is uncomfortable with her cuffed hand, but she unlocks the deadbolts and doorknob, before letting herself in. Being inside lets some of the tension in her thin frame ease, but she doesn't dare lock the door yet. She might now have been allowed on the supply runs, but she did listen as they were rehashed at meals. She has to clear the building.
One by one, she checks each room, feeling the sense of overwhelming loss threaten at the familiar yet not familiar building. It doesn't seem right to be inside a veterinary clinic that doesn't have Hershel Greene somewhere within. It's as if he's watching over her, because the building is empty.
The glass windows she admired from outside makes her nervous, so she tapes paper from the copy machine over the expanse covering up the cheery animals. "Sorry, guys," she whispers. "Y'all keep watch for me out there."
She visits the bathroom before her bladder bursts, wishing there was running water. A search through a supply closet unearths baby wipes, at least. She gives herself a makeshift wipe down of her exposed skin and tosses the grubby wipes.
It takes her a while between exhaustion and inexperience, but she discovers in the end that movies really don't lie about how easy handcuffs are to pick with office supplies from the reception desk.
Her stomach rumbles, so she checks the kitchenette for anything still viable. Someone here liked those little packets of flavored tuna. The saltine crackers are the stalest things she's ever tasted, but they're edible with the spicy tuna scooped on top. She crunches her way through a whole sheaf of crackers and two of the four tuna packets.
Habit leads her to throw away the trash, and she braves the refrigerator. By some luck, no one had anything in it that would spoil. She checks the bottles of juice and they're nearly expired, but not quite. Opening one, she grimaces at the warm apple juice, but beggars can't be choosers.
Although sleep beckons, she circles back to lock the back door and wedge cardboard in the broken window. It won't really stop a person, but maybe they won't look closely in the dirty old alley. No one thinks about veterinary offices when they're looking for supplies. It's how Daryl and his group found medicine for the sickness that swept through the prison.
She drags the biggest dog beds from the sales display into the veterinarian's personal office, building herself a nest behind the desk. In an abundance of precaution, she raids the supplies for scalpels and eases one into each of her boots. Taking her battered shovel handle and a third scalpel, she curls up behind the desk and falls into an exhausted sleep.
Beth wakes before her body catches up on much needed sleep. She goes on alert, but before she can identify what woke her, she's being licked enthusiastically by the happiest, wiggliest pit bull she's ever seen. The last time she saw a dog was before the outbreak, and she gives in to the urge to pet the lovely creature.
Logic comes crashing down on her simple delight. There's no way a dog got inside the building without human help. "Go away," she hisses quietly, hating to give up the comfort of touching the dog's silky brindle fur.
Maybe if the dog goes and finds its owner, she can stay hidden. Obviously, the person needs supplies for the animal, but maybe they'll avoid the office.
But not if her new best friend stays put.
"Please. You have to go away." She feels desperate tears prick at her eyes.
Her obvious distress earns her more swipes of the flat tongue. The dog whines in response to her fear.
"Biscuit?" A man's voice calls out. It's a deep timbre voice, one that tickles Beth's memory, but it's not any of the men from the prison.
The dog proves a traitor, because it makes a high pitched yip as it does its level best to pretend its sixty pound form is the same as a small lapdog. Squished beneath the dog, Beth prays for a miracle.
"There you are, you crazy mutt. What have you found?"
The man steps into view. He's an imposing guy, dressed like many of the men at the prison were in serviceable clothing and sturdy boots. A full, dark beard obscures most of his features. He frowns as he sees her, brow furrowing.
"Beth?" he asks, looking puzzled. "Beth Greene?"
It finally clicks for her who the man is, if she really stretches her memory back to the farm and the day a bleeding Carl Grimes was carried into her family's farm. Remove the beard and replace the dark curly hair he shaved after Otis died, and it's a man she hasn't seen since he disappeared in the night after the failed trip to eject Randall from the farm.
"Hello, Mister Walsh."
Of all the people from his former life that Shane Walsh expected to ever run into again, Hershel's youngest child never once crossed his mind. Maggie, he could picture, if he thinks about it now. The older girl had a strong dose of common sense it always seemed her sister was protected from having.
He's laid awake nights, especially in the early days when the loneliness was at its worst, imagining finding the group again. Rick or Lori feature mostly, although the one that makes his heart ache the most is imagining Carl. He never lets himself imagine the baby at all, because that way lies a madness he cannot hope to overcome.
With a piece of his past staring at him from beneath Biscuit's attempt at becoming a lap dog, he takes a deep breath.
"Might as well call me Shane," he offers. "Not much call for formality these days. Biscuit, let the girl up."
The dog whines, but moves away from Beth far enough she can breathe freely. He notices her hand trails after the dog and wonders how long she's been on her own.
"You get separated from your people?" He loathes the idea of taking her back, since it means contact with Rick, but he can't leave a girl not much older than Carl on her own. They're a long way from the Greene farm, on the wrong side of Atlanta from it.
Beth tears up, which makes him wonder if his people skills have gotten that bad. Probably so, because he didn't even consider the fact that she might be separated because her people are dead and gone. She looks too healthy to have been on her own long, though.
"I don't know where anyone is." She sniffles just a little, but gets a grip on her emotions before he has to figure out if he can possibly soothe her upset. "Where we were staying was attacked by a man with a grudge against Rick. A lot of people died, and we were scattered. Only person I've seen since was Daryl."
Shane scratches at his beard. It's long enough he really should give it a good trim soon to avoid looking like a lumberjack. He supposes he shouldn't be surprised that the hunter is still with Beth's people. He was smart enough not to challenge Rick. "Where is Dixon now?"
"We got separated when I got taken by two men in a car marked with a cross. I don't know where we were before."
Shane recalls those cars when he's made excursions into Atlanta. He avoids them as a matter of habit, although sometimes he gets curious about whether they're really Atlanta cops or playacting. With his own right to the badge long behind him, he decided against finding out.
"Might be a good thing you got away. Can't be good intentions if they didn't give you a choice."
"That's what I figured. They hit a deer, so I got loose and ran until it got to be daylight."
Shane sighs. With no direction and her people scattered, he can't really do much. Well, except to not leave her here. "Came in this close to the city for medications and supplies. No one raids the vet offices."
Plus he does have animals to keep healthy.
Beth doesn't ask to come with him, but he can see the question lingering unasked in her young face. Biscuit has crept back closer while they've been talking, so he knows what the dog would vote for.
"Why don't you come back with me? I'm staying about twenty miles outside the city on a lake. Let you rest up, and maybe we can map something out to sort out a search. Get you back to your daddy."
With time to think it over, he thinks they could figure something out.
The girl does cry this time, and Biscuit responds to comfort her. The momentary confusion he experiences passes as he thinks over what he said before she started crying. Ah, shit. If they were attacked and people died, it isn't unreasonable for her father to be one of them, especially at his age.
Shane lets her hug the dog for comfort, but snags a box of dusty tissues off the desk and offers them to her. It seems to jolt her out of her sorrow. She cleans up her tears and blows her nose.
"Thank you for offering. I think that would be best." The prim and proper response makes him almost smile.
"Help me clear out anything useful?" he asks, unrolling the spare duffel from his pack.
Beth takes it and stands, nudging Biscuit aside. "I'll show you what I found when I cleared the building."
She's efficient, he'll give her that. He's not sure how much is growing up a veterinarian's daughter and how much is any real training in gathering supplies. It doesn't really matter because it takes them under an hour to pack away anything remotely useful.
She eyes the duffel she has, versus the heavier laden backcountry pack he has. "I can carry more weight than this."
"I figure you can, but it's a long hike and those boots aren't made for cross country the way mine are. Less weight will be easier. When did you eat last?"
He did see fresh and empty food packages in the kitchenette once they were clearing the building, but he doesn't know how long she's been here.
"Before I slept, so sometime after dawn." She looks at her footwear, which is more stylish than functional, and grimaces.
Shane looks at his watch. It took him and the dog just over six hours to trek into the city's fringes. They could make it home by dark, but he's not sure the girl can keep their pace. It's an intense one for him, to make the trip in a single day, and he's in great shape for it.
"It's just after noon now. If we get started, we might make it home by nightfall."
"And if we can't?" she asks.
He approves of the question, because it shows she's not just following him blindly. "There are a few safe houses along the way. We've been caught out in storms or other delays before."
Beth looks relieved, so he unzips the side pocket on his pack and pulls out two of the Millennium Bars he carries for eating while hiking. "Cherry or coconut?"
She glances at the bars and then takes the coconut, following him as they head outside. Her frown at the dry looking ration bar clears when she takes a bite, falling into step beside him as Biscuit patrols around them. Outside, the pit bull always loses all his playfulness in favor of guard duty.
"It tastes like a cookie," she remarks, chewing thoughtfully. "What is it?"
"Sort of a combination ration bar and energy bar. They don't spoil in the heat over time like a lot of the protein and other food bars do."
When she finishes it off in record time, he passes her another, taking the time to eat one of his own. She isn't chatty, like he expects of a girl her age, but that could be that she doesn't know him well enough to start up unnecessary conversation.
Shane's spent almost all his conversation speaking to animals. He's only heard other voices thanks to DVDs in the past eight months, which was the last time he spoke to any survivors. That was brief, the couple too wary of strangers to linger much longer than it took to negotiate a trade of medicine when they crossed paths.
They fall into a silent walk, punctuated only by quick exchanges when she needs a bathroom break and when he encourages her to drink. With the bottled juice from the vet office and his canteen, they're not lacking for drinks.
"How much further?"
It surprises him that it takes her nearly four hours to ask that question. Their pace is slower than it would be for him and the dog alone. He's already thinking they won't make it home by dark.
"About half an hour to a safe house, of sorts."
"We'll stay the night?"
"Yeah. It's still warm enough that it shouldn't be too bad."
She nods, not seeming curious about the weather being a factor. No matter where her group was staying, that would be something she's familiar with by now, he thinks. He hasn't asked any questions yet, because he doesn't want the distraction while hiking. If they lost their home under an attack, the news can't be good.
When they turn into a yard and bypass the house for the treehouse out back, Beth actually laughs. "You're a bit old for treehouses, aren't you?"
Shane does smile at that commentary. "It's unlikely to be searched by human survivors, and walkers can't reach. Important when you travel alone." Even with Biscuit, the dog needs sleep, too.
Beth takes that in stride and climbs nimbly up the hanging ladder. She looks around from the vantage point of the platform around the little 'house' before frowning down at Biscuit. "How does he get up?"
"Toss down that sling by the ladder."
Once she's done that, he hooks it around the dog's middle and climbs the rope ladder himself. It doesn't take much to haul Biscuit to the platform. The dog is calm and collected, used to being hauled to higher ground away from home.
"Huh. That's one way to do it." She smiles and pets the dog before opening the door Biscuit nudges.
Shane draws the rope ladder up after them. Now that they're stopping for the night, he's afraid the conversation he's avoiding is inevitable. He runs a nervous hand across the back of his head.
Somehow, he'll cope, just like he's done with everything else since the world went to hell.
A/N: Beth is 20, not 18, when the prison falls. Sophia and Andre live. Most of the prison/Woodbury arc occurs, including the deaths of Lori, Hershel, and Merle. All other post prison through finding Alexandria events follow canon (aside from Carol not needing to assassinate a child, as Tyreese saved Sophia, Judith, and Andre).
Shane and Beth will not find the others right away, instead making their own rambling way north. By the time they reach Virginia, the war with Negan will be underway. Glenn will not die in this version of the story. Jury is still out on Abraham.
Written to fill a Shane/Beth request on Ao3.