A Milkshake For Your Thoughts
It took Beth several minutes to calm herself down. The tears kept coming, but the sobs became more manageable and she caught her breath long enough to wave Rick and Daryl away, motioning that she was okay and for them to give her some space. She needed room to breathe. And she really wished Merle would piss off, but he didn't seem to much care that she was sobbing uncontrollably on the ground.
After a few more minutes of Beth's soft crying, he shook his head and grumbled something about "can't stand these goddamn hysterical females" before disappearing.
Rick and Daryl obliged and stepped away to stand on the sidewalk and talk quietly to each other—for a second, Beth thought they must surely be discussing how crazy she obviously was. Probably doubting ever trusting her or her supposed "Gifts" in the first place. But then she snapped out of that bad habit and reminded herself: no, that wasn't true at all. Daryl trusted her. So did Rick. Even Merle was starting to come around now that he was seeing what she could do.
And, if she were looking on the bright side, this little breakdown was a small price to pay for the progress she'd made today. Before this, she probably would've blacked out and collapsed inside Dale's tiny office and given the old man a damn heart attack. But she hadn't. She'd slipped into his mind almost effortlessly, and when she came back, he was completely unaware that she'd ever gone anywhere at all.
Maybe it was to be expected that the weight of all these emotions would make her crumble every now and again. Maybe sometimes, she just had to let it all come out instead of trying to bottle it up inside.
She thought of that room she'd visited, where she'd heard her mama's voice. All those unpacked boxes and zipped-up suitcases. There wasn't much space for anything else in there, let alone another truckload of someone else's emotional baggage. She needed to feel it, understand it… and then let it go.
She'd only come here for the information on Philip Blake, after all. That was all she needed. And she'd certainly gotten it.
Once Beth's breathing had steadied and the tears stopped forming, she wiped a hand across her cheeks and stood up from the ground, sniffling. Rick and Daryl were watching, and they kept wary eyes on her as she slowly approached them.
She felt so damn foolish. She couldn't meet their gazes for more than a second before glancing away shamefully and mumbling, "Sorry. I'm fine, I just—I didn't mean to break down like that. In public."
Rick spoke up first, an understanding smile on his face. He used a voice that Beth rarely heard from him while he was in uniform. "S'alright, darlin'. You sure yer alright? Y'can take a few more minutes if ya need."
She quickly shook her head. "No, it's okay, I promise I'm fine. Thanks."
Daryl was chewing on his thumbnail, but he pulled it away to mutter, "What happened? Wasn't Dale that made ya cry, was it?" Something about his tone made Beth think that he was considering going back inside and giving Mr. Horvath a piece of his mind. She appreciated that he was willing to defend her, but Dale wasn't at fault.
She shook her head again and this time, a small smile formed on her lips as she met Daryl's eyes. "No, not at all. It wasn't nothin' like that. It…" But she couldn't find the right words yet and her voice trailed off. She realized her cheeks were probably smudged with eyeliner and she rubbed at them with her fingers, suddenly more self-conscious. Stupid makeup.
The two men were looking at her, waiting patiently for an explanation. But when she shrugged, at a loss for words, Rick exchanged a glance with Daryl and let out a sigh.
"Ain't gotta talk about it if yer not up to it," Rick said. "Whadd'ya say we head back? Shane's probably gonna start buggin' me 'bout where I am here 'fore too long. Surprised he ain't called yet."
"Yeah, let's go," Daryl agreed.
Beth nodded silently, then turned and headed for the sheriff's car. She was more than ready to put this place in the rearview mirror.
Inside the car, the trio returned to their previous seats, with Rick driving, Daryl in the passenger seat, and Beth in the back. Rick reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a travel-sized pack of tissues, turning around in his seat and handing them to Beth. She took them gratefully and used the reflection on her phone screen as a mirror while she tried to wipe all the smudged eyeliner from her face.
"Hey, yer mascara didn't run," Rick pointed out. "Nice."
Beth blushed. "Thanks. It's waterproof," she mumbled, staring down at her reflection in the black phone screen.
Daryl nudged Rick and said, "Don't talk 'bout her makeup, man. Women don't like that."
Rick let out a laugh and quipped, "Oh, yer gonna tell me about women? I was married."
Beth couldn't help but chuckle softly. Daryl just shook his head, but the corner of his mouth was tugged up into a teasing smirk. "An' what was that in there?" He jerked a thumb towards the direction of the insurance office. "You try'na find yer next wife already?"
Beth looked up to see Rick's reaction and caught him smirking coyly before quickly turning his attention to starting the car and putting on his seatbelt. "I'ono," he said. "Just gettin' some legal advice. She's got a law degree an' all that—you heard her, you were there for the whole conversation."
Daryl scoffed and gave the sheriff a knowing look. "Yeah, I was in the background while y'all flirted up a damn storm. How the hell you pestered her into givin' you her number is beyond me."
Beth remembered the Swamp Witch's vision and smiled to herself, keeping her lips shut tight. Was Michonne the "future wife" that Rick had been meant to meet? Had Beth and Daryl unknowingly put something life-changing into motion for their mutual friend?
Maybe there were some silver linings to this whole predicament, after all.
"What can I say," Rick said, jokingly smug. "I got a way with words."
Daryl rolled his eyes and Rick laughed as they pulled back out onto the street and began to drive away.
They hadn't driven more than half a block when Rick's cell phone started ringing. He had it perched inside a mount in the center of the dashboard, and when he pressed Accept on the incoming call, it went straight to the speakers inside the car. Rick kept his eyes on the road and both hands on the steering wheel.
"Y'ello," he answered.
"Rick. Hey, uh…" It was Shane, of course. "You, uh—ya didn't happen to see my sidearm layin' around anywhere, did'ja?"
Beth had to stifle a laugh from the backseat, while Daryl slowly turned his head and gave Rick a look of disbelief, mouthing the words he lost his gun?
Rick was visibly suppressing a smile, shaking his head like he was exasperated. "Uh, no… no, I can't say I have, Shane," he said. "If you lost it again—"
Daryl burst out, "Again?!"
"Who the hell is that? Am I on speaker?" Shane asked, immediately growing defensive. "Dammit Rick, what'd I tell you 'bout warnin' me when yer in the car. That fuckin' Bluetooth—"
"Relax, Barney Fife," Daryl mocked. "Ain't a secret that yer a dipshit."
Beth was covering both hands over her mouth in an effort to stay silent, but she really wanted to laugh. Rick shook his head and quickly reached over to end the call before Shane could get any more heated.
"Is that Dixon? Listen here, Daryl, ain't no business of yours—"
But Rick quickly cut him off. "I'm headin' back right now, I'll see ya in a few," he said, then pressed End Call and heaved a sigh. He flashed Daryl an annoyed side-eye. "'Tween you an' him, I dunno who's worse."
Daryl's face turned incredulous. "Seriously? It's him."
"Yeah," Beth chimed in from the backseat. "Definitely him."
Rick rolled his eyes. "Christ." But Beth could see in the rearview mirror that he was smirking, and so was Daryl.
A chill ran down her spine as the car slowed to a stop at the intersection, and she looked over to see that Merle had appeared in the seat beside her. Frowning, as usual.
"So you done weepin' now, Crybaby Greene?" He taunted.
She glared over at him but kept her mouth shut. Daryl was fiddling with the radio station in the front seat and Rick was grumbling something about Shane being codependent.
Merle chuckled at Beth's silence and lazily crossed his arms over his chest. "Thought you'd never stop cryin'. The hell had you so worked up, anyhow? Ya gonna tell us what'cha saw? Or ya jus' gonna keep actin' all mysterious?"
Beth narrowed her eyes and shot him a look of pure contempt, but it only made him laugh. He turned to gaze out the window, muttering, "Figures. Jus' like my pa always said: God promised obedient women at all corners of the Earth… then He went an' made the earth round." Merle shook his head in disgust.
Beth had to stifle a chuckle at that. She hated agreeing with Merle or even giving him the satisfaction of being right, but he'd just quoted something that she'd heard her own daddy say dozens of times over the years. Hershel had always said it in a playful manner, of course. A common joke amongst Southern Baptists. Nonetheless, it never failed to make her laugh.
Because yeah, Merle was hoping for an obedient woman. But instead, he'd gotten Beth. It was kind of sadistically satisfying to think about.
Rick spoke up from the driver's seat, "Y'all wanna stop for some ice cream? I think I'd like a hot fudge sundae."
Daryl shrugged indifferently and Beth smiled awkwardly, keeping quiet. Rick glanced around at them before letting out a hmph.
"Well I dunno 'bout y'all, but I'm stoppin' fer some ice cream," he said decisively.
"Great," Merle muttered. "Another goddamn thing I can't enjoy."
Beth rolled her eyes, but the dead Dixon caught it and shot her a scowl.
"Fuckin' speak up already, blondie," he urged. "You know I don't like bein' ignored. Best share with the class an' make it worth our time. Don't forget, Officer Friendly's workin' on the taxpayer's dime, so you'd better not be wastin' that."
"Fine," she finally said, conceding in frustration. "But it's not anything that yer gonna wanna hear."
Rick and Daryl turned their heads and glanced back at her quizzically. She gave them a look that seemed to remind them she was the only one who had to listen to and talk to Merle. Rick opened his mouth and started to say, "Beth, you don't have to—" but Daryl stopped him with a nudge of the arm and he nodded in understanding. They both quickly looked away, though they didn't stop glancing back at her and listening attentively.
To Beth's surprise, Merle snapped his mouth shut and uncrossed his arms, partially turning his body to give her his full attention. She wasn't sure if he actually cared or if he was just looking for any available source of entertainment. Either way, he was shutting up and listening for once.
She didn't really care about his reaction or opinion, though. She was more concerned with the two living men in the front seat who were hanging on her every word; the two people who believed in her and trusted her and insisted on following her instincts, even though her instincts weren't quite well-developed yet.
"I did it," Beth said flatly. She let her words hang in the air for a moment, gauging the reactions. Rick gave her a glance in the rearview mirror, and Daryl looked back at her over his shoulder with intrigue. Merle just kept staring at her expectantly, as he had been since he reappeared.
Okay. They knew what she was referring to. She could elaborate. Maybe she could leave some parts out… maybe she could make them understand Dale's perspective without having to go back over all the gruesome details.
"I, um… I tried to ask Dale about The Governor," she continued, her voice growing weaker as Rick drove the vehicle through Senoia and towards the Dairy Queen that sat at the edge of town. "But he wouldn't tell me anything. He was pretty adamant about stayin' quiet, and I didn't understand at first. I've known him fer years, he's a good man, he always does the right thing—but he was holdin' something back. Like he was scared. I could tell."
Rick hummed in agreement, but Daryl remained silent.
"So, I…" She paused, letting out a deep breath and taking another one in, restoring her confidence as she spoke. "I tried to use my Gift. He went to shake my hand goodbye, and I just kinda focused, and when I touched him... " She had to avert her gaze downward and stare at her boots on the floorboard for this part. "And I got inside his head. Inside his memories. I saw everything he ever knew about Philip Blake."
Merle was the only one to let out an audible reaction. He chuckled, low and cold. Then he leaned back in his seat and stared down his nose at Beth, icy blue eyes narrowed as though he knew where this story was leading.
He smirked. "There ya go, darlin'… Now we're startin' ta get somewhere."
While Rick drove them across Senoia and through the Dairy Queen drive thru, Beth began relaying everything she'd experienced on the Elevator of The Past.
Of course, she chose to omit certain parts—like the squirming tentacle-vines within her core and the upsetting vision of a pregnant Leanne Dixon. But everything else was summarized with as much detail as she could recall. Even the unsavory parts, like Senoia's general consensus on the Dixon family and the fire, and Philip Blake's rapid descent (or ascent?) into full-fledged insanity.
Beth was still trying to figure out what kind of person The Governor really was. Because she knew he was bad—hell, she was almost certain that he was pure evil, just like Dale had concluded—but she couldn't be completely sure yet.
Not yet. She was unsettled with condemning a man as a hopeless case. Even with Dale's memories fresh in her mind, she didn't feel comfortable with herself knowing that she was assuming the absolute worst from a fellow human being.
Maybe Dale was right; maybe Philip was a Lost Cause. Or maybe he hadn't tried hard enough. Maybe he hadn't approached it from the right angle. Maybe there was some sort of unseen hope to be found.
Or maybe she was just being naive. She couldn't decide.
The one conclusion she'd come to was inarguable, though: Philip Blake was dangerous. He wasn't Satan Incarnate by any means, and he wasn't a monster. He didn't come close to the likes of Papa Legba. He was just a man.
But The Governor was a lethal threat. As so many men were prone to be. And just like with so many other men, she couldn't let herself assume the best from him. No matter how badly she wanted to.
The things she knew for a fact: He wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted. Even if what he wanted was an impossible pipe-dream. He would kill anyone that tried to stand in his way. And if he couldn't kill them, he'd make them wish they were dead. Also, as recent events had proven, he had no qualms against murder. He'd graduated from blackmail and accessory manslaughter to full-fledged homicide without so much as blinking.
He didn't seem to care anymore. Maybe those years in prison had pushed him close enough to the edge that he'd stopped worrying about repercussions.
She could only guess. Yet she'd gotten no more than a glimpse of his psyche from thirty years ago. And that was frightening enough.
It was more than frightening. It was downright terrifying. It was enough to know that he meant business, and that Beth and Daryl shouldn't underestimate him.
As they sat in the parked sheriff's car outside Dairy Queen and ate ice cream, Beth also made sure to relay her experience with Papa Legba. In between sips of her strawberry milkshake.
Rick appeared intrigued, staring at Beth and spooning scoops of vanilla ice cream and hot fudge into his mouth like he was listening to a ghost story. But Beth saw the way Daryl shuddered at the mention, and how his shoulders sagged a little more after hearing about Legba's threatening appearance. How he stopped eating what remained of his small bowl of chocolate ice cream and chose to chuck it out the window instead, as though his appetite had suddenly disappeared.
She knew that Rick didn't understand. He hadn't been forced to watch his own brother make a deal with a demon like Daryl had. He couldn't fathom the possibility of facing an eternity in Hell because of someone else's decision. He didn't really have any idea of how scary Papa Legba actually was, or how much weight his threats held.
Merle, on the other hand, pretended to be indifferent. But Beth could tell that the dead Dixon was just as unsettled as his living brother. He would barely look at her once she started talking about Legba, gazing at the floor and out the window instead.
Good, she thought. He should be unsettled. It's his soul that fucker's after. He should be quakin' in his boots. It's his fault we're in this shithshow to begin with.
Then she quickly corrected herself—no, that wasn't right. Merle was a different kind of person. Not good, but not evil. He never would've abided by The Governor's rules, or allowed such a feeble-minded man to threaten his only brother. He wasn't like Dale, who'd had a million things to lose and no way out.
To his credit, Merle had tried. He'd used his final breaths to lie and attempt to protect his brother. So she couldn't go resenting him for something he had no control over. She knew that if Merle were still alive, he'd be tracking Philip down himself.
But Merle wasn't alive. That was the thing. He'd become yet another name on The Governor's presumably long list of victims. Right alongside Dale and Frank and Leanne and Daryl and and and…
"So what yer tellin' me," Rick said, dropping his spoon into the empty sundae container in his hands. "Is that Mr. Horvath was Philip's alibi. 'S that right?"
Beth sipped her milkshake, grateful for the sweet treat and the way it seemed to soothe her soul. She was already feeling a million times better than she had when she'd stepped out of the insurance company. She nodded. "Yeah, but he didn't want to be. He was scared. His whole life was on the line."
"'Course," Rick agreed. "Philip blackmailed him, threatened him with both financial and physical harm. I get it." He paused and raised his eyebrows, squinting in that way he always did when he was beginning to disagree. "But Dale still convinced everyone else in the office to back up the alibi…"
Daryl interjected rather abruptly, his voice coming out in a burst of emotion. "My life was on the line. So was my mom's. So, what—we didn't fuckin' matter to this guy?"
"To who?" Beth snapped back. "To Dale? Or to The Governor? 'Cause I think you know the answer to both those questions. It wasn't about you or your mom, Daryl. Dale was terrified of Philip. Just like you are. Just like I am."
Merle let out a low whistle. "Careful now, blondie. Yer treadin' dangerous territory there."
The dead Dixon was trying to sound indifferent, almost absent, but he wasn't doing a very good job. Beth could hear the offense in his voice, and she could see the displeased scowl on his face.
Daryl, on the other hand, was turned away from her in the front seat, glaring out the window and chewing on his thumbnail. He didn't even grunt to acknowledge her reply.
"He coulda said somethin', though," Rick claimed. "He essentially aided Will and Philip in their crime. Helped 'em get away with it."
Beth couldn't help but get defensive. She hadn't been thrust into all of Dale's most painful memories for nothing, after all. She hadn't felt everything he'd felt and experienced his worst fears just to walk away with an ignorant perception. "Philip is off the hinges. He threatened Dale with everything that Dale ever cared about. Y'all can't try to tell me that you wouldn't have done the same thing in his position."
Rick paused and contemplated her statement, quirking a brow. Daryl remained silent. Merle crossed his arms over his chest and scoffed.
"I never would've helped a criminal get away with insurance fraud and murder," Rick said.
Beth bristled. "Really? Never? Not even if you knew your silence might mean the difference between you ever gettin' to see Carl or Judith again? Not even if it meant you could've saved your marriage with Lori?"
Rick's jaw dropped and he quickly glanced away, almost ashamed. Struck silent.
Beth immediately regretted saying that. But at the same time… she didn't. It was harsh, but it was the truth. And maybe it was the truth that Rick needed to hear. That Daryl needed to hear.
"I get it," Merle said plainly, breaking the silence.
Only Beth could hear him, though. The other two men were still speechless. She looked over to the dead Dixon with a doubtful gaze. She was waiting for him to add some kind of sarcastic comment.
But he didn't. He just shrugged and said, "Snitches end up in ditches. Ain't worth it if it don't affect you an' yours. 'M not gonna waste no energy bein' mad at some old man who was just lookin' out for his own family. Hell, nobody coulda stopped my pa from doin' what he did. Our mama gave up way before Daryl ever came along. She never stood a chance. No point in lingering on the past, anyhow. Can't change it, so why bother?"
Rick and Daryl were still silent, looking away shamefully. Ruminating on what she'd said.
Jesus. She'd never thought the day would come when Merle would agree with her before anyone else did. Yet here they were.
Merle was the only one who truly understood. And he was dead. So what did that say?
Well, maybe the guy who'd come face-to-face with an honest to God demon—and struck up a deal with said demon—had a better perception on things than the two living men at her side. So be it.
She and Merle knew who the real enemy was here. And it wasn't Dale Horvath or Philip Blake. In all honesty, it wasn't even Papa Legba.
It was The Governor.
to be continued…
A/N: Chapters 3-5 of the podfic are now available for your listening pleasure! Check this fic out on AO3 for the link :)
