Small Town Medium

Beth sat in the truck with Merle for well over an hour. He chain-smoked out the window while she scrolled through social media on her phone, trying to avoid replaying the mortifying conversation with Daryl inside her head. Her face turned red every time she thought about it and she was almost positive that she would never speak to him again. He was convinced she was high off her ass, and though her final statement had clearly hit some kind of nerve, she wasn't sure it was the right nerve.

She glanced up every few minutes and watched the front door. Throughout the hour, she and Merle observed four people exiting the bar and mounting their motorcycles before driving away. But none of them were Daryl or his friend.

Merle grumbled discontentedly here and there, more to himself than anything. He'd spent a good fifteen minutes bitching about Beth not "understanding" Daryl and not approaching him the right way, but she ignored him and brushed it all off. She'd tried her best and that was all she could do. The rest was up to Daryl and she knew she wouldn't be able to convince him to believe her if he really didn't want to nor could she make him do something he didn't want to do. Merle would just have to accept it sooner or later. No matter how much he complained and insisted otherwise. She sure as hell wasn't going to risk getting a restraining order put on her over this dead asshole.

At this point, she was prepared to drive out to the Swamp Witch all by herself. She'd do just about anything if it meant getting rid of Merle. But there was no use in risking being turned away. The nameless black kid had specifically said "a pair of living visitors." He'd made it sound like the Swamp Witch wouldn't even be willing to help her if she couldn't follow those simple directions; and she was inclined to believe him.

After a while, she forced herself to think optimistically. Daryl had been bothered and she could tell that she'd said something right to get his full attention. So maybe he would end up coming out and talking to her, just for the sake of clearing his conscience? Surely he'd want some kind of explanation for the odd things she'd said. Surely he'd want to know exactly what sort of 'answers' she could actually provide.

According to Merle though, the probability was low.

"You fucked it up, blondie," he grumbled. "He jus' thinks yer some kinda tweaker bitch - "

"And why d'you think that is?" Beth snapped, glaring at him. "I told you this would happen, I told you this is how it would be. Nobody's gonna listen to some girl who says she can see a dead guy."

Apparently he'd expected his brother to immediately accept the fact that Merle was dead and trying to talk to him. Beth was appalled by Merle's pure ignorant entitlement, as well as the fact that everything she said to him seemed to go in one ear and right out the other. He was the densest man she'd ever had the displeasure of meeting.

"Shit, you coulda done better! Coulda batted them eyelashes and shook them li'l hips a yers - somethin'! But no, you had ta come at 'im like some kinda escaped psych ward patient when I fuckin' told you - "

"Shut up, Merle! Okay?! I did the only fucking thing I could, there aren't a whole lotta options here!" She blew up at him, so furious that she was nearly brought to tears. "Don't you realize that yet? Like - you realize that no matter how I try ta word this to anybody, they're gonna think I'm out of my mind?"

He scoffed and shook his head. "Not if you was smart about it - "

"There is no being smart about it! It's the same no matter what, you ignorant ass! I'm a twenty-four year old woman who's being haunted by some old guy I've never even met and no one else can hear or see him. Whichever way you try to twist it, I'm still clinically insane!"

"'M not old. I'm middle-aged, fer yer information."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. You're dead. That's not an age."

He grunted in disagreement and turned his head to look out the window. "Gray hair don't mean I'm old…"

If I could kill you a second time, I would, Beth thought, gritting her teeth.

"Either way, we don't know that he's gonna blow me off," she said firmly. "He seemed pretty upset by what I said. I think he'll come out an' talk to me. Maybe he'll hear me out... If nothin' else, he'll want those answers you promised."

Merle grunted again but didn't turn to meet her eyes.

She waited expectantly, then added, "What was that about anyway? I thought your mom's fire was ages ago, you said it was an accident. What questions could he have?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," Merle mumbled.

She sighed. "That's fine but I kinda need to know what I'm s'posed to say if he comes asking - "

"I said, I don't wanna talk about it. 'S between me an' Daryl."

"Well Daryl can't hear you, so it kinda concerns me too, ya know."

"Don't fuckin' worry about it. Get off my dick already."

She paused and rolled her eyes. Then she asked, "You do have those answers, right? It wasn't bullshit? Please tell me it wasn't bullshit."

He waved his hand dismissively without looking at her. "Yeah, yeah. We'll burn that bridge when we get to it, blondie."

Beth sighed and tried to push down the wave of fresh anxiety that was rising inside her chest. She was already emotionally exhausted thanks to Merle, toeing the line of rage almost constantly and holding back endless outbursts. He was the most infuriating person she'd ever met, hands down. But she couldn't quite give up hope that his brother would be a little more bearable - once she got past the rough exterior, that is. Daryl was pretty much her only hope now. She went back to staring at the front door, waiting patiently for a glimpse of the angel wings vest.

The sun sank down and disappeared behind the horizon, leaving streaks of orange and purple in its wake. Then the sky darkened and the stars multiplied against a black backdrop and the near-full moon shone bright from its spot high above. The air got chillier but Beth didn't roll the windows up, pulling her cardigan a little tighter over her arms and basking in the breeze. After what felt like forever, it finally happened: Daryl emerged from inside the bar.

As soon as she spotted him, she leaned forward in her seat and wrapped her fingers around the steering wheel, grasping tightly and watching with bated breath. She could hear Merle muttering a soft "oh" of realization from the passenger seat before he was leaning forward, too. Then they were both waiting, tense, their eyes locked onto Daryl and watching his every move in silence.

His friend was trailing after him, of course. They exited the bar and walked over to their bikes, which were parked side-by-side, and chatted for a few minutes. Daryl gestured heavily with his hands and smiled often while his friend laughed a lot and nodded in agreement. Then they hugged briefly and said goodbye and the friend mounted his motorcycle and drove away. Daryl stood next to his own bike and watched the blond man drive off with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. Even from a distance, he appeared contemplative.

Merle scoffed at the exchange and spoke with loathing, "Fuckin' faggots."

Beth side-eyed him, suppressing a mocking laugh. "Somebody's jealous that their baby brother has friends."

Merle growled at that but didn't meet her gaze, his narrowed eyes locked on Daryl through the windshield. "Ain't fuckin' jealous. I jus' don't like that asshole. Never did. He's a pussy."

Beth rolled her eyes and chose to ignore him. The more time she spent with him, the more clear it became that he was immature and emotionally stunted in a way that could never be fixed.

For a moment, she feared that Daryl may be afflicted with the same root toxicity. But then she reminded herself that he'd been smart enough to distance himself from Merle, so maybe he wasn't such a lost cause after all. Surely he knew how awful his big brother actually was; surely he'd wanted to break the cycle in some way or another.

Then again, she had to remember not to expect too much from another Dixon. Especially considering how Merle talked about them and their reputation. And if Daryl was what he called "sweet," then their definitions were all kinds of screwed up. Daryl had come off as just about everything but 'sweet' when Beth talked to him. Though she did have to remember that he had his guard up and that, if she were in his position and had experienced a life like his, she'd probably have the same reaction to a stranger saying the things she'd said to him.

Nonetheless, she wanted to stay optimistic. So she silently willed Daryl to walk towards her, to open his damn mind and hear her out. Please don't get on your bike and leave just yet, she prayed.

And sure enough, he didn't. He lingered for a long moment and she could see him glancing in her direction though not definitively looking at her or the truck. She was parked in the shadows and he probably couldn't see more than a dark truck-shaped figure from where he stood. Merle was muttering quietly but she'd tuned him out long ago. Then Daryl was taking a few hesitant steps forward. Her heart leapt and he paused. He glanced back toward his bike uncertainly but continued to walk. She let out her breath in one deep sigh when she realized he was heading straight for her.

"Here he comes," she whispered. For some reason, her hands were trembling.

"Yeah, no shit. Get outta the truck, he ain't gonna trust ya if he can't see that yer not armed," Merle muttered.

Beth didn't question his advice. She nodded and opened her door, stepping down and out of the big black Ford before quietly shutting the door behind her and taking a step away from the vehicle. Just in time for Daryl to approach.

He stopped at the edge of the curb in front of the truck, keeping a good ten-foot distance away from her. His hands were shoved into his pockets and he was glaring at Beth suspiciously. Merle appeared at her side but didn't speak. She could see his fingers twitching restlessly against his pants from the corner of her eye.

Oh my god, why didn't I plan out what I would say if he actually came over here? She thought, furious with herself.

Luckily, she didn't have to linger on that thought for too long because Daryl cleared his throat loudly and spoke up.

"'M pretty sure yer just another twack star lookin' fer some kinda handout - "

"I'm not. My name is Beth Greene. I live on my family's farm, where I've lived my whole life. I'm nobody special, but I don't do any drugs. I promise. You can ask anybody in my family or on my farm, they'll tell you I'm not doped out or insane."

The words poured out of her almost like a plea. But Daryl was listening. His mouth snapped shut and he stared back at her, eyes narrowed.

She went on, wavering uncertainly beneath his scrutinizing gaze, "I mean - I don't think I'm insane. But there's this weird thing that's been happening and it - it makes me think I'm losin' my damn mind. I'm not tryin' to drag you into anything. I just… I think you might be the only one who can help me at this point."

He was worrying his lower lip and studying her with a new curiosity. Though she could tell from the look in his eyes that he was still doubtful and guarded. His shoulders were stiff.

"The hell does that mean?" He growled. "Help with what?"

She cleared her throat and took a deep breath, then tried to keep her voice as steady as possible, "I don't know exactly. I know it sounds ridiculous - and it is, it's so much more ridiculous than you could imagine - but your brother found me yesterday morning and... I'm the only one who can see him. He convinced me to come talk ta you. He says he didn't kill himself. He thinks somebody killed him. And he thinks you're the only person who can help me figure it out."

Merle grunted from beside her. "Don't think - I know." She ignored him and kept her eyes locked on Daryl.

The living Dixon was grinding his teeth, studying her suspiciously. She could see the deep doubt on his face, but she could also see a hint of intrigue behind strands of shaggy dark hair. She kept praying inside her head, Please believe me, please believe me.

"Greene, huh? Where's yer farm?"

His question caught Beth off-guard and she blinked, sputtering for a second as she replied, "I uh - yeah. It's jus' south of town, a few miles out."

Daryl tilted his chin upward and his suspicion gradually turned to contemplation. "You related ta Ol' Man Greene?"

She smiled reflexively and nodded, answering proudly as she always did, "Yeah, Hershel is my dad. I have an older brother an' sister, Shawn and Maggie."

Daryl sucked on his teeth thoughtfully and eyeballed her up and down for the hundredth time. Then he nodded. "Yeah, I know 'bout yer family. But I dunno how you coulda known Merle 'less you was buyin' from him or fuckin' him."

Beth crinkled her nose in disgust while Merle cackled beside her. "As if I'd ever hump some flat-chested broad like you."

It was becoming second nature for her to tune out his crude comments. She quickly explained, "Yeah, that's the thing - I didn't know him. I never met him while he was alive, I'd never even heard of him. Or you."

"Huh," Daryl grunted, frowning.

"No offense, I just - I stay pretty busy on the farm and I don't really go out much or meet new people. And my daddy's never mentioned a Dixon before…"

"Yeah, I ain't never met yer pa. Jus' a small town, everybody knows everybody. I got some buddies who mention 'im from time to time, know some people who worked for 'im." He paused and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "You know Sheriff Grimes?"

She smiled and nodded, her heart skipping hopefully. "Yeah! I babysit for him sometimes. We've known his family since I was in high school."

Thank God for small towns, she thought.

Daryl furrowed his brow and asked, "How old're you?"

"Twenty-four," she replied. "Why?"

He shrugged and glanced back over his shoulder, remaining silent for a moment. Beth tensed and waited, unsure of whether he would tell her to fuck off and walk away or if he might be almost convinced to hear her out. It seemed that her family's name and the unseen grapevine within Senoia had been the in she'd needed and she hadn't even realized it.

Although she really hoped he didn't plan on actually going and asking everyone who knew her if she was insane or doped out. That would make things a lot more difficult.

He appeared to be toeing the line between belief and skepticism, having an unspoken argument with himself that was prevalent in his expression. He finally sighed and shrugged.

"You swear yer not on drugs?" He asked.

She held back a laugh and nodded confidently, "I swear."

"So what - you tellin' me yer like one a them mediums or whatever? Like the ones on TV that can talk ta dead people an' shit?"

Beth shook her head and her smile disappeared, her voice wavering with uncertainty. "I don't - I don't think so. But I spent all day goin' around to every church I could find and I even went to some lady who claimed she was a 'psychic,' and nobody else can see him. They can't answer any of my questions. They just keep tellin' me it's like, my destiny or somethin'. Like I'm supposed to help him cross over even though I have no connection to him whatsoever."

Daryl's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Cross over?"

She shrugged and explained, "To the 'other side' - Heaven or Hell or what-have-you. I guess."

He quirked an eyebrow and considered her statement for a few seconds. "Right… okay."

Merle had been uncharacteristically quiet for the last couple of minutes but now he spoke up, "You got 'is attention, blondie. Mention the fire again."

Beth shot Merle a side-eye and sighed, shaking her head. Before Daryl could open his mouth - or change his mind - she suggested, "Can I buy you a drink? I know you just came out but if you wanna go back in, I'll buy you a beer and answer any and every question you can think of. I'll prove to you that I'm not lying or smokin' dope."

She didn't want to mention the fire again like Merle instructed. It was too touchy of a subject and she knew it would make Daryl recoil defensively. She went with her own gut instinct, which was to coax Daryl into a place where he felt comfortable and sweeten the deal by offering to treat him on her dime. Maybe if he felt at ease with his surroundings and a little buzzed, he'd be more willing to listen and take her seriously.

He appeared to be indecisive, still looking at her with obvious suspicion. So she added, "If you still don't believe me, or if you jus' decide that you don't wanna help, I'll leave you alone forever. I promise."

"Don't tell 'im that!" Merle snapped. "He has to help me!"

She turned her head and hissed, "No, he doesn't. Neither do I."

"Bullshit! I'm his brother, I practically raised 'im! He fuckin' owes me!"

"What's he sayin'?"

Beth looked back to Daryl in surprise, her heart dropping when she realized he'd witnessed her talking to thin air. She swallowed hard and blushed.

"I, uh - he's saying you have to help him. He said he's your brother and he practically raised you and - and you owe him."

He quirked an eyebrow curiously.

She sighed in exasperation and rolled her eyes before adding, "It's the same thing he's been sayin' fer the past two days." She couldn't even try to hide her irritation at this point.

To her shock and slight dismay, Daryl smirked. Though it quickly faded and he went back to scowling, straightening his back in defiance. Then he muttered, "Sounds like some shit he'd say."

"Yeah, 'cause ya know you fuckin' owe me, Darylina," Merle quipped.

Beth kept her eyes locked on Daryl's and told him, "He says that's because you know you owe him. And he keeps calling you 'Darylina.' Is that supposed to be an insult to you, or…?"

"Jesus Christ," Daryl mumbled quietly, a deep crease forming in his brow and a look of disbelief crossing his face.

She sighed with resignation and tried to tune out Merle's indignant sputtering and cursing.

"So - how about that beer?"

Daryl chewed on his lower lip indecisively for a moment.

"Swear you ain't tryin'a trick me?"

"Trick you into what? I don't want anything from you except your help."

"Yeah, whatever. Swear it. Swear it on yer mama's grave."

Beth froze and her breath hitched. Thank God for small towns, she thought sadly.

But she responded without missing a beat, "I swear… on my mama's grave."

He stroked the hairs on his chin and gazed at her skeptically. Finally, he conceded.

"Fine. But you ain't gettin' no money outta me. And it's gonna be more'an just one beer."

to be continued...


A/N: Subscribe to me on AO3 so you can read the updates as soon as they're posted instead of days/weeks/months later! :)