Uniform Violations

Daryl was dressed almost exactly the same as he'd been the day before, angel wings vest and all. There were bags under his eyes and he looked like he hadn't slept very well. He seemed hesitant to climb off his bike even before Maggie came storming out the backdoor and down the porch steps.

"The hell'd you tell 'er, blondie?" Merle growled in Beth's ear.

Her eyes were glued to the sight of Daryl slowly climbing off his bike, his shoulders squared and chest puffed out as Maggie rapidly approached.

"Everything," Beth mumbled, just loud enough for Merle to hear. "Pretty much, anyway."

"Now what the fuck'd ya go an' do that for?" Merle scoffed.

"She needed to know," Beth snapped. "Morgan told me ta look fer guidance within my home—and that guidance is Maggie."

"Don't mean she's got any right ta go interrogatin' my brother," Merle grumbled unhappily. "Ain't like he's been slippin' under yer skirt."

Beth rolled her eyes.

Then he cackled and added, "Least not yet!"

She huffed out a frustrated breath and ignored him, descending the porch steps and taking long strides through the grass to reach Maggie and Daryl. It appeared friendly so far—they'd just shaken hands and introduced themselves, though there was a frighteningly determined look on Maggie's face as she looked up at Daryl. He was only an inch or two taller than her, but Beth could see the defensive set of his jaw and the tension in his stance. Maggie was smiling. For now.

"Sorry," Beth apologized to Daryl as soon as she'd stepped up to her sister's side. "We were talkin' and—"

"I know everything," Maggie said plainly, green eyes set intently on Daryl.

His face drained of color and he glanced to Beth for rescue. She gave him a helpless shrug.

"Everything…?" Daryl asked, meeting Maggie's glare with a tentative expression.

Beth and Maggie nodded in unison.

But before Maggie could open her mouth, Beth was quickly explaining, "I tried ta lie, but it's—she's the guidance that Morgan told me I needed to find. She inherited the same Gift as me. She talked to a Witch, too."

Daryl looked baffled. His mouth opened and closed as he glanced back and forth between the Greene sisters.

"So I told her," Beth finished softly. "I had to, Daryl. I'm sorry."

"I'm not here ta get in the middle of it," Maggie assured, raising her eyebrows at Daryl. He relaxed just the slightest and she went on, "But it is serious. This is a murderer and a demon that y'all are dealing with—it's dangerous shit. I just have ta know she's safe. She's my only sister, I have to look out for her—you get it, right?"

Daryl quickly nodded and Beth could see him swallowing hard, fingers fidgeting nervously at his sides. He wanted to chew on his thumbnail but he was resisting the urge.

He met Maggie's eyes with an intensity and confidence of his own, chin raised and head tilted back until he was looking down his nose at her. "Yeah. I get it. 'S just somethin' that can be real hard to explain. Ya know—ta anybody else. Gonna be hard enough ta convince Rick that we ain't batshit insane."

"I understand that," Maggie said. "But I… genuinely believe this is somethin' that the two of you have ta figure out together." Daryl's stance relaxed further as she went on. "I learned my lesson when it comes ta doubtin' Witches an' all their predictions. I know my sister isn't crazy or makin' things up—I also know that she's an adult and she can make her own choices. I just worry about her. This is…"

She seemed to be at a loss for words. Daryl noticed and finished for her, "A really big fuckin' mess? Yeah. I know. Trust me, I'm more'an aware of how serious it is. Never wanted ta get into anythin' like this—not if I'd had a choice."

Maggie crossed her arms over her chest.

Daryl went on confidently, "But ain't nothin' gonna happen to 'er through all a this, no matter where it takes us. Not on my watch."

Maggie's eyebrows rose with intrigue and she turned her head to give Beth a look. Beth could feel the heat rising up her neck and threatening to turn her cheeks red.

She quickly nodded in agreement. "He brought a gun to the swamps—he was ready ta shoot Eastman when we met him," she told Maggie quietly. "I think I'm safer with Daryl than anybody else."

Maggie sighed and looked back at Daryl, her arms loosening over her chest. Daryl shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged.

Then Maggie said, "Our mom's annual memorial is tomorrow."

"Oh yeah?" Daryl grunted.

"Yeah," Maggie replied without hesitation. "It's a whole thing: lunch and quality time together an' whatnot. That's what I drove down here for in the first place. So is all this gonna impede on that, or—are you gonna take a break from yer murderer hunt and join us?"

Beth held her breath—as well as a remark that wanted to slip out—and tried not to stare at how pink the tips of Daryl's ears were turning. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight awkwardly.

"Nah, 'snot gonna impede on that," he muttered. "I didn't, uh—don't really think it's my place ta join y'all neither."

Maggie frowned. Then she shrugged indifferently and said, "Alright. Jus' thought I'd ask."

Beth let out her breath slowly, unsure of what she could possibly say to cut this tense conversation short.

After a few long seconds of silence, Maggie pointedly glanced at the motorcycle sitting behind him. "That's what you guys are gonna be ridin'?"

Daryl nodded.

She quirked an eyebrow. "So you got a helmet fer my baby sister, Mr. Dixon?"

Daryl turned and opened up the bag that was hanging over the side of the bike. He pulled out a black motorcycle helmet—too small for him, but perfect for Beth's head.

"Right here, Miss Greene," he quipped. Then he pointed to the sparkly ring that was prominently displayed on her finger. "Or should I say, Miss Bride-To-Be."

Maggie chuckled in surprise and looked over to Beth, smirking. "I guess this guy's got it all figured out, huh?"

Beth couldn't help but smile back.


Beth and Daryl were about a mile down the road, heading towards the Sheriff's Department, when she leaned forward and put her mouth close to his ear. She had to speak loudly through her helmet and over the roar of the engine beneath them, the air whipping past their heads.

"I didn't tell Maggie everything. Not the stuff about yer dad or Merle killin' him or anything—just the important stuff."

Daryl whipped his head around and shot her a glare. She reeled, leaning slightly away from him in response. He revved the engine a little harder and they picked up speed, then they were suddenly slowing down. He veered over to the side of the road and brought the bike to a complete stop before putting both boots down on the gravel.

Beth reached up and slipped her helmet off in time to see Daryl twisting around and glaring down at her over his shoulder.

"Yeah? That's all ya told her?" He asked angrily.

Beth nodded, brow furrowed and lips parted in surprise. She didn't understand why he was reacting like this. "Well, yeah. What—why're you upset?"

He sighed and slashed an arm through the air. "You kiddin' me, Beth? We promised not ta tell anybody!"

Beth reeled. She responded defensively, "Anybody doesn't include my sister! She had the same secret as me this whole time—she's the only person I could tell!"

Daryl scoffed and shook his head. "Bullshit."

"What the hell are you so pissed off about?" Beth demanded. "This is ridiculous—you heard what Morgan said. I needed to look within my home and within my heart. That was Maggie! She talked to a Witch just like we did. She learned things she shouldn't've learned. She understands."

"Yeah? 'S that what you think?" Daryl argued. "She don't understand shit. All she knows 's that her precious baby sister is runnin' around with some no-good Dixon, gettin' inta God-knows-what kinda trouble—"

"Stop the pity party already," Beth snapped, the words pouring from her mouth in an uninhibited rage. "Yer dad an' yer brother might not've had a good reputation, but that doesn't mean shit fer you. You're different, Daryl Dixon. I know it—and now Maggie knows it. Get the hell over it. She's not stoppin' us an' she's not comin' after you with a shotgun. She's here for me."

Daryl's lips snapped shut and he stared back at Beth with indignant fury, blue eyes narrowed and jaw tensed. "Fer you, huh? An' who're you here for? Yerself?"

"No. I'm here for you," Beth said flatly. "'Cause yer a good person—no matter how hard you try ta convince everybody that yer not. And I don't think your soul belongs in Hell. And it's my choice to help and I've decided that I want to help."

Daryl growled in discontentment. "Till ya decide you don't. Then what? You an' yer big sis gonna magically forget the whole thing?"

Beth rolled her eyes. "Gimme a break. There's no backin' outta this. Yer so worried about Maggie, but what about Rick? Huh? What d'you think we're gonna tell him?"

Daryl blinked and glanced away for a moment, his scowl deepening.

Then he shrugged. "Whatever he needs ta know. I'on't think the ghost shit really needs ta be shared, though." He jerked his chin toward her expectantly. "Wouldn'tcha say?"

She frowned and said, "It's not that easy. You should've learned that by now."

He grunted with disapproval. "Well it's ain't a fuckin' family matter, I know that much."

Beth huffed out a humorless laugh. "Seriously? How is it not a family matter?"

"'Cause it's not. Ain't somethin' that yer whole fuckin' family needs ta be in on."

"And they're not. Just Maggie—she's my sister. This is a scary new thing for me, ya know. And she's the only one I can turn to for actual support. How can you not understand that?"

"I'ono, just sounds like some more fuckin' red tape ta me with her nose stuck in this whole mess."

"I know yer not very familiar with the whole concept of empathy, but let's think fer a second about your brother—how d'you think he would act if he were in Maggie's position? And you were in mine? Don'tcha think he might be a little concerned? Don'tcha think you might want just one person that you knew you could turn to for advice?"

"Stop talkin' ta me like I'm a fuckin' kindergartener."

"Then stop acting like one!"

"My brother ain't the same as yer sister! Okay? It ain't the fuckin' same at all. Don't tell her one more goddamn thing about me. Conversation over."

Beth opened her mouth to argue but Daryl revved the engine of the bike back to life and drowned out her words. She shoved her helmet back on and wrapped her arms begrudgingly around his middle as they began to pull back out into the road and speed off. He remained stiff beneath her grasp for the next five miles.

Dixons ain't turnips, she tried to remind herself.

But holy shit, what a reluctant fucking bleeder this one was.


The King County Sheriff's Department was a wide one-story building with a vast parking lot and tall chainlink fences lining the entire perimeter. Daryl pulled his bike into an empty spot on the far side of the lot and shut off the engine, kicking down the kickstand while Beth pulled off her helmet and shook out her hair. He stood and stepped away from the bike, waiting for her wordlessly without looking at her.

She could feel the tension that remained between them after their little argument. Though she couldn't say she was terribly concerned with it at the moment. He would come around eventually—he had to. Within minutes, they would be talking to Rick. And asking for help with this particular predicament would be a group effort.

Unfortunately, Merle appeared beside the front door of the Sheriff's Department, a smug smirk on his face and a cigarette in hand as he eyeballed Beth and Daryl.

"Guess it's time fer a visit back home," he cackled. "Wonder if they got somebody in my cell today. Ol' Grimes always liked lockin' the drunkards up fer any which reason—fuckin' pig. Think I can scare 'im while we're here?"

Daryl opened the door and walked through ahead of Beth. She paused and scowled at Merle.

"Please don't," she muttered.

Merle laughed as the door fell closed behind her.

Beth and Daryl approached the thick glass that encaged the front desk to find an empty chair. A second later, a man stepped out from the back and walked up to stand behind the desk, a malicious smirk on his sun-tanned face. The shiny name badge pinned to his uniform read Walsh.

"Aw hell," Walsh chuckled as he eyed Daryl up and down through the glass, barely giving Beth so much as a brief glance. "If it ain't the last Dixon himself. What brings ya back around, Daryl? If yer lookin' for yer brother, he's in the morgue."

"Nah," Daryl retorted without missing a beat. "He's in ashes, spread out on the Georgia countryside. Nice ta see you too, asshole."

Beth stood at his side, silent. She'd met Shane Walsh a time or two, but only because he was Rick's partner and best friend. He'd never made a very good impression on her. Though admittedly, she didn't know him very well. Not nearly as well as Daryl and Merle knew him, apparently.

"Good ta know his toxin-riddled body ain't poisonin' the ground," Shane said coldly, brown eyes locked on Daryl's through the glass that separated them.

Beth could see Daryl's shoulders tensing, the muscles in his back flexing and rippling beneath his vest. She bit her tongue, keeping faith that he would ask to speak to Rick before this little spat escalated any further.

Merle appeared on the other side of the thick glass, standing behind Shane with a heavy frown on his face. He was shooting a death glare in the direction of Walsh's back.

"I never fuckin' liked this asshole," he muttered. "Cocky beaner piece a shit. Always thinkin' he's better'an everybody else." He turned his head and spat on the ground, then he threw up a middle finger to Shane's back. "Fuck you, spic! Shoulda killed you when I had the fuckin' chance."

"Where's Rick?" Daryl asked.

Shane frowned and glanced over his shoulder. For a second, Beth wondered if he could feel Merle's presence looming angrily behind him.

He crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged indifferently. "On lunch. I know you prob'ly jus' rolled outta bed, redneck. But it's lunch time fer those of us with jobs."

Daryl scoffed. "I got a job, dumbass. Rick asked me ta come down here at lunch. So where is 'e?"

Merle growled and leaned forward, glaring daggers through Walsh's back. "I oughta fuckin' gut you fer talkin' like that. Maybe I'll fry up some bacon today." He shot a look towards Beth. "Whadd'ya say, blondie? You in the mood fer some sizzled pork?"

Beth bit down on her lower lip and kept her eyes on Daryl and Shane. Both men had fixed murderous gazes on one another and she was growing desperate to escape the palpable tension.

"Busy," Shane said, scowling. "Didn't mention nothin' 'bout you comin' down. 'Less yer wantin' ta turn yerself in."

"Fuck it," Merle declared. "I'mma mess with this dickhead!"

Beth watched with wide eyes, unable to react in time to stop it, as Merle leapt forward with all his strength and grabbed Shane by the thighs. At nearly the exact same second, the door behind them opened and Rick emerged with one hand on the doorknob and the other clutching a half-eaten fried chicken leg.

He froze and stopped mid-chew as he took in the scene before him: Daryl and Beth standing on the outside of the glass, completely dumbfounded, while Shane's pants were jerked down to his ankles. And not just his pants—his red plaid boxers, too.

Merle jumped back and guffawed, all too pleased with himself. Shane looked down in shock, his face turning bright red. Beth gasped and covered her eyes, letting out a squeal of surprise. Daryl barked out a loud laugh while Rick stood and stared, baffled.

"What the fuck—!" Shane frantically reached down to pull his pants back up, stumbling forward in the process and nearly falling on his face.

"Oh my god, look at that pathetic li'l thing!" Merle laughed. "You call that thing a dick?!"

Beth refused to uncover her eyes until the sounds of scuffling feet and a loose belt buckle had silenced. She'd already seen more curly bush than she'd ever wanted to see. Daryl was laughing even harder and Merle was cackling behind the glass along with him. Rick remained where he was, barely moving to allow Shane to shove past him and disappear behind the door. It fell shut behind him, leaving Sheriff Grimes standing with a look of befuddlement and a forgotten chicken leg clutched in his hand.

He approached the glass slowly, eyeing Beth and Daryl up and down. He glanced back over his shoulder, still trying to figure out what exactly he'd just witnessed. Then his wide blue eyes met Daryl's.

"What the hell just happened?"

Daryl's laughter slowly died out and he was still chuckling when he responded, "Yer partner's a fuckin' moron, Grimes."

"Well no shit. But…" Rick blinked and turned his attention to Beth. "Beth?" He looked back at Daryl. "Ya didn't mention you'd be bringin' Hershel's daughter along. What's goin' on? Why're you two hangin' out?"

He put his free hand on his hip and glanced back over his shoulder with a fresh wave of bewilderment. "And why the fuck did Shane have his goddamn pants down around his ankles?"

Merle's triumphant laughter echoed even after he disappeared.

to be continued...