The Weight of The Underworld
Beth's entire body went numb. She could no longer feel herself stepping forward. The light grew so painfully bright that she had to shut her eyes.
But she could still hear her own heartbeat in her ears. It had been slow-motion this whole time and now it was catching back up, resuming normal pace. She had to take a deep breath in and hold it to prevent herself from panicking.
Then, very suddenly, all the sensation returned to her body. She could feel the floor beneath her feet, the clothes against her skin, the heartbeat within her chest.
And the warm, weathered hand clutching hers.
Her legs were wobbly, like she'd just been jumping on a trampoline and was stepping back onto solid ground. She opened her eyes and found that the blinding light was gone.
She was back. She was standing inside Dale's little office in SafeZone National Insurance, shaking his hand politely. He still had the same cordial smile on his face as before, and his fingers were barely slipping away from hers.
Beth realized that she'd done no more than blink… and she'd seen everything Dale could remember about Philip Blake.
Holy. Shit.
A shiver ran down her spine and it took everything she had to keep the tight-lipped smile on her face. She wanted to collapse back into the chair and heave out a deep sigh. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. But she couldn't.
Dale was completely oblivious. She'd slipped into his mind and seen years' worth of his most private memories. And he had no idea. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and gave her a nod. He was waiting for her to speak.
The memory of their conversation flooded back into her mind and she blinked. Just like that, everything she'd seen and the places she'd gone when she'd shaken Dale's hand faded away and stored themselves inside her brain. She cleared her throat, still struggling to accept the pace of her own heart.
"Mr. Horvath," she started weakly, and when he raised his eyebrows and kept smiling, her voice grew a bit stronger. "I really do understand. I don't want you to think I'm some sorta… lost cause. I always saw you as a father figure, and—well, I just wanna make sure you know that."
Dale was obviously caught off-guard. His face fell and his eyes became watery. He took a half-step back and glanced away, clearing his throat awkwardly.
Without looking up, he muttered, "Thank you, Beth. That… means a lot. I always wanted a daughter like you."
He finally lifted his head and met Beth's eyes. When he did, she saw the tears pooling. She choked back a sob, fighting her own tears at this point.
She'd seen too much. She almost wished she hadn't seen any of it.
But it was necessary. Goddammit…
"But you need to know that you were wrong," Beth said. "Philip Blake isn't a monster—he's not a demon, he's not Satan Incarnate. He's just… a guy. A really sick, really bad guy. And The Governor might be nothin' more than his lonely little creation, but he is real. Too real. He's deadly."
Trust me, she wanted to say. I have first-hand experience with knowing the difference between a demon and a man. Knowing what's real and what's not.
Dale's brown eyes flickered and he swallowed thickly. "I truly wish I could help you. But I… I don't know anything about Mr. Blake. I never did. I won't let myself slip an' act like a foolish old man. I've made too many mistakes. I won't repeat them."
Beth nodded sadly. "I know."
He looked back with confusion, brows furrowing. "I don't think you do. And let's hope you never have to."
She shrugged, sniffling and clearing her throat. The pooling tears dried up. "No, Mr. Horvath, it's too late fer that. I have the power to do the right thing, and I can't look the other way. Not this time… I know a lot more than I should. Things you could never imagine."
He stared at her, perplexed. His jaw ticked, like he was itching to speak but couldn't decide on what exactly to say.
Beth knew she shouldn't have said anything more, but she couldn't help herself:
"Irma's in a better place, ya know. Annabeth took her there. Just like she told you."
Dale's jaw dropped and the tears finally escaped his eyes, rolling down his cheeks. He choked out stiffly, "I think it's time fer you to be headin' back home now, Miss Greene."
Beth nodded and turned away, leaving Dale nearly trembling where he stood. She let herself out of the office and shut the door behind her.
She shouldn't have said that. It was so stupid, so reckless.
Why had she said that? She should've just walked away. She got everything she needed from his memories. There was no good reason to add to his pain.
But she hadn't been trying to add to his pain… in fact, it was quite the opposite. She'd wanted to try and alleviate it. In any way she could. After so many years though, was that even possible anymore? She'd probably just slowed down Dale's grieving process. Dammit. She should've kept it to herself.
That was it. The things she saw… the painful shit, the raw emotions, the shameful secrets… she just needed to keep them to herself. Take the pertinent information and use it, but push everything else aside. Because forgetting it certainly wasn't an option. But she could shove it away and leave things be.
It wasn't her job to try and bring closure to every hurting human being. Especially when they didn't want that kind of closure.
She had a bad feeling that her slip of the tongue would end up coming back and biting her in the ass.
But she didn't have time to worry about that right now. Because she was striding through the empty office of SafeZone National Insurance, approaching Rick and Daryl and Michonne. They were standing around by the front door, talking quietly. They appeared to be getting along a lot better than before.
Beth could see Merle leaning against the outside of the plate-glass window next to the front door. He was smoking a cigarette and watching a group of teenage girls walk by on the opposite sidewalk. She could hear him whistling obnoxiously.
Even though she felt like she'd grounded herself pretty well and returned from a startling view of the past with impressive composure, she couldn't shake the odd sensation that was permeating her bones. It was like she'd just woken up from a lucid dream. Like she'd been shoved into reality a little too quickly. There wasn't a fog about everything, but there was a heavy sadness weighing upon her shoulders and blooming larger within her chest that no one else could understand.
She'd managed to tuck it away and shove it back for the time being. But with every step she took, the pain grew a little more intense, threatening to burst outwards any way it could.
She swallowed it down and composed herself. She remembered that she was Gifted, that she was born for this. She assured herself that this was just another part of the gig. Surely, it would fade away. She'd fight through it and remain strong the whole time. Like she was meant to.
This wasn't the first heart-wrenching glimpse of the past she'd experienced, after all. And it probably wouldn't be the last.
As she approached Michonne, Daryl, and Rick, she slowed, coming to a stop and standing meekly to the side. Daryl's eyes had been on her since the moment she'd emerged from Dale's office, watching her through a fringe of dark hair. His hands were shoved into his pockets and he was standing by stiffly while Rick chatted with Michonne.
It took a moment for Rick to realize that Beth had returned. He was smiling, eyes set on Michonne—and surprisingly, Michonne was smiling back. Or rather, smirking. She seemed hesitant to appear fully pleased with what Rick was saying. But she was definitely listening, and she was no longer giving him a death glare like when they'd first arrived.
Beth was starting to wonder what she'd missed.
"Ya know," Rick was saying. "I could really use some good legal advice, 'specially from a beautiful, educated woman like yerself—maybe I could get yer card?"
Michonne rolled her eyes, still smirking. But she was looking back at the sheriff with a similar look. "Beautiful, huh?" She crossed her arms over her chest and turned to look at Beth, her smirk turning into a frown. "Oh—you're back. Where's Dale?" She shot a glance towards Dale's closed office door and narrowed her eyes. "What'd you say to him?"
Rick cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He exchanged a quizzical look with Beth, but she quickly turned back to Michonne.
"Not much," Beth said. "We've known each other fer years, he used to be my teacher. So we were just catchin' up." She forced a tight-lipped smile.
Michonne appeared taken aback. Her arms tightened over her chest and she quirked a brow. "Oh, really?"
Rick cut in, "So how 'bout that card? Or your email—"
Michonne's dark brown eyes flicked over to settle on the sheriff. She didn't smile, but it looked like she wanted to. She shrugged and held out her open palm.
Rick immediately interpreted the gesture and pulled his phone from his back pocket, unlocking it and opening up the Contacts app before he placed it in Michonne's waiting hand. She typed in her number, acrylic orange nails tapping away on the screen.
"I don't answer calls or texts after nine p.m.," Michonne muttered. "If I answer you at all…"
Daryl silently stepped away and slipped out the front door as Michonne was handing Rick's phone back over to the grinning sheriff. Beth followed, discreetly slipping past Rick and out the door. It fell shut behind her, but Rick and Michonne were still chatting inside.
Beth took a couple steps forward and a deep breath of fresh air. The pain she'd been pushing back was still blooming larger in her chest, and now there was a knot slowly forming in her throat.
Daryl stopped by the curb and pulled out a crinkled pack of cigarettes, lighting one up. Beth stayed where she was a few feet away, trying to process everything she'd learned, trying to accept that she was… really fucking powerful. Daryl shot her a questioning glance but didn't say anything. He seemed to be waiting for her to speak when she was ready.
"So what'd ya see, blondie?"
Merle was eyeing her, still leaning against the plate-glass window with a cigarette between his fingers. He frowned, clearly not expecting much of an answer.
The dead Dixon knew her all too well by now. He could read her expressions, and she could tell he sensed her unease. He didn't expect an answer yet because he knew she didn't have one.
Yet.
All she could do was shrug. The knot was growing larger in her throat. Merle scoffed, shaking his head and taking a long drag off his cigarette. Beth turned away until she couldn't see him in her periphery.
When her eyes landed on Daryl, she realized he was watching her. Squinting. Puffing on his cigarette and studying her. She absent-mindedly pushed up the bracelet on her left wrist and rubbed at the scar that lay beneath.
She tried to remind herself that this was nothing new; she was well accustomed to making room for the pain, carrying it with her, storing it away somewhere safe. She knew how to shove it down and save it for later—for a more appropriate time. She'd learned to avoid the pity and attention that would surely be thrust upon her. She knew how to mourn privately, in a healthy manner. How to suffer silently.
But for some reason… she just couldn't do that today.
Maybe it was something about Daryl being there. Staring at her. Or knowing that Merle was behind her. Also staring at her. That they had no clue just how much she'd witnessed. Maybe it was the knowledge of Dale's pain, knowing how he'd suffered just because he'd tried to be Philip Blake's friend. Or maybe it was that gut-twisting memory of Irma Horvath on her deathbed, and knowing that Dale was still nursing an open wound.
Hell, maybe it was the unbearable pain of seeing a ten-year-old Merle in dirty clothes, and his bruised mama pregnant with Daryl. Witnessing first-hand just how utterly goddamn miserable that poor family had been… subjected to Will Dixon's abuse… helpless and hopeless…
Or, more likely, it was the constant threat of Papa Legba. A terrifying demon who wouldn't leave her alone, who kept stalking after her everywhere she went, who kept promising to make her pay for her intrusion. Even though she was only trying to do the right thing.
Actually, it was everything. It was all of those things and more. It was the curse of being Gifted. Filling her chest and her stomach and her head and her whole fucking soul.
It had to go somewhere. It had to escape.
She couldn't just feel all of this and act like it was nothing. She couldn't experience the worst parts of humanity and just keep going about her day as if nothing happened.
She wasn't that Gifted.
Beth hadn't told her feet to move, but as soon as the tears began to pool in her eyes, the lower half of her body had started carrying her down the sidewalk on its own accord. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest and walked to the parked sheriff's car, past Daryl, away from Merle, ignoring both of their questioning grunts.
Suddenly, all she could hear was her own heart beating in her ears, and her lungs pumping oxygen through her veins. The pain was overwhelming. Every memory she'd witnessed when she grasped Dale's hand flashed through her mind, scene after scene after scene. One emotion after the next. Unrelenting. Merciless.
The Governor was evil. He was the epitome of bad ideas and selfish motivations. He'd killed. He'd scarred. He'd… caused so much fucking pain. And he was still causing pain.
And there was so fucking much at stake. Beth had felt so much suffering. She was literally battling with a demon for a good man's soul.
This pain had nowhere to go. She couldn't store it away. She couldn't shove it down and deal with it later. It was blooming so large behind her ribcage that it was about to burst, like an overinflated balloon of misery. And she knew she couldn't stop it.
She crumpled to the ground beside the sheriff's car, one hand on the passenger side door as she sunk to her knees. The pavement was hard, but she could barely feel it. The knot in her throat finally escaped as a loud sob, and she quickly slapped her free hand over her mouth. The pooling tears overflowed and poured out, leaking down her cheeks in a steady stream. Her breaths came in short gasps between sobs.
Everything seemed to be falling down upon her at once. Like being submerged in a sea of other people's grief. She could barely catch her breath. The waves kept coming, washing over her and pulling her beneath the surface.
Beth sobbed uncontrollably, trying to stifle the sounds with a hand over her mouth. Her face was wet with tears and snot and she knew her eyeliner was running, but she didn't care. She ended up sitting down on the hard pavement beside the car, leaning back against the passenger side door. Her shoulders shook and the tears continued.
All she could see was a blurry figure at her side, but she didn't know it was Daryl until she felt his hands on her arms and heard his gravelly voice in her ears.
"Beth, what happened? Why're you cryin'?"
She tried to respond, but she could barely see him through all the tears, and she couldn't catch her breath or stop crying long enough to speak. She took in a shuddery breath, but it only escaped as another sob.
Daryl's voice grew more concerned, more frantic. "What's wrong? Are ya hurt? Talk to me, girl—please." His tone sounded almost defensive as he asked, "What'd that guy say ta you?"
Beth tried to form a response again and failed. She shook her head, still sobbing as she reached up and grasped Daryl's wrist. She blinked the tears away just enough that she could finally see his face. He looked worried, frowning and squinting down at her, at a loss for words.
She finally managed to sputter out, "Daryl, I—I saw…"
I saw so much. I saw your mama carryin' you in her belly, and your daddy treating her like an animal. I saw how lost Merle's been since he was a little boy, how he never stood a chance. I saw just how sick and hopeless The Governor really is. And I found out exactly what this awful town thinks of your family. I saw all of Dale's worst fears come true, and I felt everything he felt. I watched a woman die and cross over. And I saw Papa Legba. Again. He won't fucking leave me alone.
But all the words caught in her throat and another sob wracked her body. She couldn't speak.
Then she saw Rick from the corner of her eye. He was exiting the insurance company and striding down the sidewalk. His pace picked up when he spotted Daryl and Beth sitting on the ground beside the car.
Rick rushed up to them with concern, his carefree smile instantly disappearing, and Beth knew she was about to be hit with another onslaught of questions that she was incapable of answering.
"Beth, what's wrong? What happened?" Rick asked, bending down on one knee and glancing at Daryl for an explanation. But Daryl just shrugged helplessly.
Then she heard Merle's voice from above.
"Yer gettin' snot an' makeup all over that nice shirt yer wearin'."
He was sitting in the passenger seat of the sheriff's car, leaning his head out the open window and gazing down at her indifferently.
"Can ya wrap it up already, princess? We need ta get this show on the road."
to be continued…
