Finding Shane holding that bottle of alcohol makes Beth's heart skip a beat. She doesn't know why he stopped drinking, but she didn't grow up with Hershel Greene and not understand the dangerous effect that liquor has on the brain. It's why losing him made Beth want to break that taboo and let hers get thoroughly soaked in something forbidden.
Daryl turned ugly when he was drunk, lost to the horror of memories of his family. Being in that moonshiner's shack hadn't been lost on her how all the softness of her Daryl peeled away. She hadn't feared him, even then, because even angry and hurting, she'd known in her heart that Daryl was safe.
The way Shane is eying that bottle in his hands? It feels like something worse than the demons that came out of those moonshine jars for Daryl. Holding it like a talisman, he just keeps turning it, rubbing at the label with his thumb with each rotation.
Beth sits down beside him, unsure if he would welcome being touched right now. He might not be under the influence of alcohol, but bad memories are worse, sometimes.
He's barely audible when he starts speaking. "Before we came to your farm, we were in the CDC for a night. It was the first time we'd been inside a building to sleep since the evacuations began. Safety, good food, hot showers."
Holding the bottle out away from him, Shane lets the amber liquid catch the sunlight. "Alcohol."
"Y'all got drunk?" Beth asks, when he seems stuck, staring at that bottle.
"Lot of us did. Wine for most of them, but me, I spied the hard stuff and let it help me lose what was left of my goddamn mind." He looks at her out of the corner of his eye, but his lashes shadow too much for her to catch his gaze before it's back on the bottle.
"Lori blamed me for thinking Rick was dead at the hospital. Seemed to think I lied just to take her and Carl for myself. I was drunk and stupid and thought if she'd just listen to me and try to understand…" He trails off. "No. That's making excuses, and god fucking knows I wanted to beat the shit out of any man who tried that when I was a cop."
One of his hands leaves the bottle to rub at his neck, right where Beth touched him yesterday. "If she hadn't stopped me, made me hurt enough to stop what I was becoming…" He looks at her, brown eyes clouded as he stares right at her for the first time since he started talking. "I attacked her, Beth. I tried to force myself on her. What that makes me ain't nothing worthy of you."
"How did she stop you?" Beth asks, because the enormity of it is hard to absorb, and sometimes the seemingly dumb question is the best one to figure things out. Lori was one of the strongest women she knows, but she was tiny compared to Shane. It feels like a stupid question, but it's all her brain can manage right now.
"Scratched me. Laid my neck right open." Shane draws three fingers down the side of his neck.
Beth understands now, why he froze so completely when she touched him there. "That all?"
"What the hell, Beth? That all?" Anger and a sort of grief twists his expression, as if he can't decide between being mad at her or worried for her. "The fact that she had to draw blood to stop me from raping her? That's enough." His voice breaks, the last two words even more impactful to her for their lack of volume.
How to respond to that isn't anything even the changes of the world have really prepared her for. She reaches out to tug the bottle of whiskey from him and studies it for a moment, remembering that night where he told her the worst thing he ever did involved alcohol. "You stopped drinking."
Her response makes him frown, even as she breaks the seal, twisting the cap off and bringing the bottle to her nose to sniff the contents. Like every other hard liquor, it sets off those warnings in the brain meant to tell humans it's not intended for their safe consumption. Meeting Shane's increasingly confused gaze, she tips the bottle sideways.
Amber liquid mixes with sea water below their feet. The color swirls and is soon erased as a wave rolls in. Beth drops the cap in next, letting the little scrap of metal hit the sand before she takes the empty bottle and taps Shane right on the forehead with the neck of it. "You quit poisoning yourself. You quit. You made that choice."
This conversation isn't just about him attacking Lori anymore, and they both know it. It's about the man who packed his things and left a situation so toxic for him that if she's honest with herself, someone would have probably died to resolve the problems between Rick and Shane.
Holding the bottle out, Beth drops it, too, watching it fill with water and sink to the sand to land on its bottom. It wobbles in the water, caught in the motion like it's dancing underwater. She decides to take a chance and reaches out to lay her hand along that part of Shane's neck he's rubbing raw, pushing his hand aside.
Shane allows it, with the same gentle willingness that he's always used around any demand she makes of him. Horror flickers in his eyes at first, but it fades when she just keeps up a slow caress on his skin. "Lori was never afraid of you. If you were the monster you think that makes you? She would have been afraid."
One of his big hands covers hers, but it isn't to remove her touch for once. Instead, he just holds her still, searching her face with eyes that hold the promise of tears. She lets him look his fill, to see that even with what he's told her now, there's not an ounce of fear in her where he's concerned.
His soul is scarred by that choice; to drink, to pursue Lori, to attack her. The damage was layered on further when he killed Otis. There's probably more darkness that passed through his mind when he was struggling, things that backed all those outburst on the farm. But in the end? He was stronger than the madness.
"You chose to be a better man, Shane," she says softly. It's what her daddy did, walking away from the drinking and the legacy of violence from his own father. It's what Daryl did, becoming something more than the throwaway redneck barely on the fringes of the group. People change, and Shane had not been beyond redemption when he chose to be more than the monsters that roam this world pretending they're still human.
Shane just swallows hard, so she caresses his cheek instead. When she leans in this time, it's to place a kiss on his cheek. Sweet. Innocent. What he needs to continue on his journey.
"I'm gonna go start us some supper. Think there's some cans of chicken and dumplings calling my name tonight, if you want to join me."
Standing, she leaves him on the dock, heading back to the Iris. When she looks back, he's got the edge of the wood gripped in his hands on either side of him, staring down into the water. Biscuit whines from where he's uneasy about making the leap from the boat to the dock, so she lifts him up.
When the dog lopes over to burrow under Shane's arm, Beth feels confident in going inside. Just as Biscuit helped Shane heal in the months with it was just the pair of them, he'll help him now. Beth's done her part. Now it's up to Shane.
Sitting on the dock, watching that bottle underwater, Shane doesn't feel able to go inside. Beth's graceful forgiveness of his worst crime is hard to wrap his mind around. What he did with Otis? That had some sort of motivation at least, something beyond his own selfish narcissism. They weren't both getting out of that place, and Carl had to live.
There's no such justification for the night at the CDC. But Beth hadn't tried to make any, had she? Her own pardon of his sin, her very confidence in his ability not to repeat such a horrific act, is based on the fact that Lori wasn't afraid of him. Perhaps there's some sense to it, since Lori knew him for years, and trusting her judgement is logical.
There was no fear in her expression, no hesitation when Shane looked for it. To Beth, it's as simple as a choice to never be that monster again. It's a form of absolution where he didn't think he was seeking it, because he can no longer obtain it from the woman who had the first right to give it.
Finally, Shane manages to get to his feet, stumbling a little with an ass gone numb from lack of movement. He nearly ends up in the water alongside that bottle, and some of the weight of his confession slides away under an unwilling amusement of what Beth would think of him managing that. Biscuit waited faithfully once Beth sent him to Shane, and the dog is anxious that his people are both back where they belong.
By the time he makes back to the boat, Beth's already cleaned the kitchen. She's relaxed in her usual spot, flipping through that tourist guide he gave her. It's got little flags of post-it tabs now, and he'll bet they have teeny tiny notes in her handwriting.
"I have so many questions about this place, you know," she says, flicking her gaze up from where the book is. "Did people really swim with pigs, and why the hell would they do that?"
No comment on the intense discussion outside, just an easy acceptance that the past had happened and life goes on. Shane shrugs. "I have no idea why they got started doing that, but yeah. Had a college buddy come down here on his honeymoon and do all the touristy stuff."
"Don't the pigs shit in the water?" Beth asks, frowning at the page, wrinkling her nose. "Plus those things bite. Daddy never would raise them because they're kinda gross, not before. We had one at the prison, and some piglets, and the stink… Ugh."
"I do believe he mentioned having to dodge some pig shit when he was there." Being able to laugh when her expression becomes even more disgusted is a surprise, but she beams at him, bright and happy like he's used to seeing from her. "Interesting what people will pay good money to do. The swimming with the sharks thing wouldn't be half bad, if the place isn't overrun, or the sharks gone back untamed."
"Maybe. I've kinda done that before."
"Need to find you a camera. Let you document some of all this."
Beth tilts her head, making the ponytail she's got atop her head bounce. "Like a Polaroid?"
"Nah. Something more durable. Bet we can find something on one of the bigger islands. Or both, if you just like those immediate pictures." Shane doesn't think the film will survive all that well in the heat and humidity of the islands, but he'll give it a try.
"The printer still works in the little office, you know. Wonder if it'll do pictures any justice if you can find one of those nice adventure digitals?"
Shane isn't surprised that he finds a Tupperware bowl of chicken and dumplings in the fridge. It hasn't had time to get cold, not yet, so he finds a spoon. "Not that one, but we can find something to fiddle around with."
"You gonna trek us off to find an Office Depot somewhere?" Beth asks, amused. She puts the book down, watching him eat with her chin propped on her hands.
"We might." He shrugs. "Probably not the weirdest place we'll ever do a supply run into."
"I imagine not." Beth tucks the tourist guide into a little nook behind her seat. "Wanna watch TV or something else?"
After the way the season ended, and Beth's tangible concern about the storyline, Shane thinks tonight might not be the best time to take that plunge. He really wants to just go to bed, but if he retreats, she'll worry, and he's made her do enough of that today. "How about we play some cards?"
The wicked grin that spreads across her face when he suggests poker tells him he's about to face a card shark wearing the face of an angel. After she trounces him for the third time in a row, he arches a brow. "Who taught you to play? Daryl?"
Beth just grins and shakes her head. "My dad did. We played for Skittles and M&Ms, when I was younger. No one at the prison could beat Daddy at poker."
"Do you want to hang around here another day or two? Some days we'll have to plan for longer sails than others."
"There's seven hundred islands here, right? We don't have to rush through them. Although now I understand why you didn't make it out of the Bahamas last winter."
"I think I know that look," Shane says, smiling slowly. It's the one that had them messing around the 10,000 Islands in Florida, then the Everglades.
"We're already in one foreign country. Won't hurt to try a few others, right?" Beth smirks at him as she puts the deck of cards away. "Avoid the bigger islands, of course, but all the little ones out there…"
"We're only limited by hurricane season. I don't want to risk being stranded somewhere if we lose our boat." Or themselves, if the storm's big enough.
"I don't want to lose the Iris either." Beth pats the wall as if the boat is one of the dogs. "Let's stay a few days. I want to practice snorkeling while we're somewhere we know is deserted."
Once he's in bed, with the hatch open to enjoy the breeze a little while before he sleeps, he finds himself smiling. Just a few hours ago, he thought he would fracture his friendship beyond repair by telling Beth exactly why he rejected her kiss. By whatever miracle that graces his life since he trekked out on his own, she has her own way of looking at things.
Shane will never be free of the tarnish of the horrible things he did after the quarry attack, but perhaps Beth is right. All he can do is continue the choice to be a different man than the one who made those decisions. As long as Beth's around, he thinks he'll have a living reminder of all his reasons to do good.
Carol looks through the latest inventory and smiles contentedly. When she'd taken control of Grady, the hospital was starting to teeter toward failure. They had plenty of medications, despite Dawn acting like they were preciously rare. But food? There were reasons for how harshly the cops treated the wards.
What better way to ration food than to make your people afraid to eat it?
Those same cops' efforts at making the streets around the hospital safer than they once were helps Carol's own people's efforts. Putting all of Abraham's pent up need for a mission and direction toward securing the high rises and larger apartment complexes one by one is a good start. Deemed too complicated and risky a target before, with double the able bodies on runs, they're a wonderful source of canned foods left behind by their occupants.
"Sometimes I wonder why we left Atlanta at all," Carol says, half to herself.
Daryl stirs from where he's been pretending to nap on her office sofa. "Because two hardheaded assholes thought we should check out Fort Benning."
Ironically, none of Carol's people ever made it to Columbus. They do know, from some of the prison refugees, that the city and its adjacent massive military base fell. There's not even military salvage to make, because the leaders of the Army base were as thorough in removing themselves from the playing field as the CDC had been.
"City life not driving you crazy yet?" she asks, genuinely concerned. Daryl's a creature of the woods, not concrete and steel.
"Nah. Easy enough to get to the green areas or outta the city when I need to." He sits up, studying her with a solemnity that tells her this nap in her office has been working up the courage to say something he thinks might be too personal.
"Sophia still doing well, going out on the hunts?"
"Her and the awkward fella both. Carl likes the run teams better. Think he's trying to keep an eye on his dad."
Rick's been unusually quiet, retreating to that hover-in-the-background personality he had after his meltdown, where he wanted to farm and build. He does still go on the run teams, because necessity seems to be a lure an ex-cop can't resist. Once his duty shifts are done, he keeps to himself, though, aside from his kids and occasionally Daryl.
"Been having nightmares," the hunter tells her.
Carol frowns, feeling more concern than she wants to have for Rick despite trying to forgive him for separating her and Sophia and accusing her of being a danger to his children. She's learning that forgiveness is easy, but forgetting? That's damned hard even when it's someone you care about. "Do you know what about?"
"Hershel."
"Oh." Carol has those herself, and she didn't even see the man die. The story from Daryl is enough to fill in the blanks for her. "Is he talking about them to you?"
"No, and that's why I'm worried. He's never been all cuddly with Judith, but she ain't gonna miss that. Never has. But Carl thinks his daddy's gonna lose his shit again, and the boy's terrified he won't come back this time."
"Daryl, I don't know that he would talk to me, either."
"Actually, Carol, I think you're the only damn person in this place that could crack that thick skull of his. He feels an obligation to you that he doesn't to the rest of us." Daryl stands, pacing in front of her desk. "Need you to try, Carol, please. Carl don't need to lose his daddy like that."
There's a note of fear and unease in Daryl's voice that strikes a chord in Carol's heart. "I'll give it a try." In the end, no matter how much she still resents Rick, the man's part of their family.
Daryl doesn't move to leave, but he's eyeing Sophia's sketch of a daylily on the wall like it holds all the secrets to the universe. "Something else you need to ask me, Pookie?"
"Is it a good idea for you and Joan to be sharing a bed?" he mumbles. From this angle, she can see that the tips of his ears are flame red.
"I'm not taking advantage of her, Daryl," Carol says softly. "Sometimes, after someone like Gorman, you just want someone safe to erase all the memories of their touch."
He turns, gaze searching hers. "That's all it is?"
"We both have our cards on the table. Hell, I'm pretty sure she's gathering the courage to flirt with Tara, to be honest." Joan comes to Carol's room less and less now. Joan chooses when she visits and whether or not she stays. Few others here truly understand exactly what sort of monster Gorman was. Half their nights are just not being alone in the dark.
"Just worry about you." Daryl gives her that lopsided smile of his. She acknowledges his worry is good to have, because Joan isn't her first temporary bed partner to erase bad memories.
"Worry about yourself, mister. Like when you're going to stop mooning over Michonne and do something about it."
The blush is pretty as it floods over his skin again. "Ain't like that. Me and her are friends. Like hanging out with Andre."
Deciding she's meddled enough, Carol just laughs and shoos him out of the office. He'll figure it out eventually, either on his own or because Michonne finally has enough of waiting to seduce him herself.
She just wishes she had all of her ducklings to worry about. Beth's loss leaves as large a hole in their family structure as Hershel's, maybe more so. Hershel had a long life that had as much joy as sadness. Beth had barely begun to live.
A/N: While there is no condoning or excusing what happened in the CDC, Shane was not beyond redemption for it, which is hopefully what Beth gets across to him.
Just because he's not the group leader doesn't mean Rick won't land the group in a few messes in the future. Some things just don't AU well. 😉