The Only Thing To Fear
Beth would admit it: she was afraid.
More than afraid. She was downright terrified. She was dreading every hour that passed, knowing it was bringing her closer and closer to the inevitable. The thought of actually following through with their plans and confronting The Governor was becoming too real to ignore. If she allowed herself to think about it for too long, she would tremble with the anxiety it brought. Her breaths grew shorter, shallower. Her skin turned clammy. And Merle's remarks in her ear were no comfort. There was no solace to be found in the dead Dixon's voice. None of the reassurance that she so desperately needed.
But when she had her arms wrapped tightly around Daryl's middle as he sped so confidently down the road on his motorcycle, and she felt his warmth through the leather of his vest and heard the wind roaring past her through the thick helmet on her head, she felt a little more safe. A little more sure. A little more strong.
She'd meant it when she told him she wished she could be strong like him. Because she did. More than anything in the world, she wished she could let all of her most conflicting emotions roll right off her back. Just like he did.
But at the same time, she knew that wasn't the case. She knew that's not how Daryl truly felt. He was just really good at pushing it all down. Holding it in. Concealing it from the world.
Even that, though, seemed better than what she was currently doing, which was barely stifling it as she pushed forward and hoped for the best.
All the same, she didn't think she'd ever forget how he'd admitted that he admired her optimism. Of all the things she'd ever assumed Daryl Dixon might envy her for, her naive outlook on the world was at the very bottom of the list.
When he dropped her off out front of the farmhouse, they agreed to meet back up later, once Rick had contacted them. And Beth didn't even hesitate to give Daryl a meaningful hug while he sat atop his bike.
She fully expected him to shy away, or push her off, or simply refuse to reciprocate the gesture. But he surprised her by loosely cupping her elbows and offering a wary half-hug in response. With a grin, she pulled back and promised to see him later.
He grunted and muttered teasingly, "Promises, promises."
Then he was speeding off down the road, away from the farm, and Beth was returning to the house with Merle in tow. Clucking his tongue and shaking his head and chiding her for her "little high school crush."
But she couldn't be bothered with his remarks. She was still replaying the blowout in her kitchen, and the conversation in the diner, and the way the electricity had shot through her whole body with that parting hug.
This was no crush. Merle was wrong.
So completely wrong.
Beth spent the rest of her afternoon doing what she'd normally do, which meant keeping an eye on her dad, lending a much-needed hand to her brother, and tending to the household chores. Merle popped in every now and then, but each time, he realized that she was going about her tedious life like usual, and he got bored and disappeared again. He seemed to be bouncing around from her, to Rick, to Daryl, and back again, endlessly unimpressed. She couldn't say she really cared, though. Being able to clean the bathroom and make dinner without his scratchy voice constantly commentating felt like a blessing.
She kept checking her phone for messages every chance she got, anticipating a text or call from Rick about meeting up. But it wasn't until she was nearly finished eating dinner at the table with her dad and brother that her phone finally vibrated in her pocket. It vibrated again a few seconds later, and she couldn't resist pulling it out to discreetly check the screen.
The first text was from Daryl:
Rick just called. Gonna pick u up in 30.
The second text was from Rick:
Didn't wanna call and interrupt dinner but I'm picking you up in 30. Bring money. We need to get costumes.
Beth kept her phone under the table and responded to each message with confirmation. But as soon as she shoved her phone back into her pocket and raised her head, she found both Shawn and her daddy peering at her curiously.
"What?" She asked, shooting them both a rueful look and picking up her fork to return to the last bites of her scalloped potatoes.
Shawn rolled his eyes. "Textin' Daryl again?"
Beth scoffed, quickly growing defensive. "Get over it already."
Hershel chuckled as Shawn reeled, and before her brother could say anything, her father was commenting, "Got another date tonight, Doodlebug?"
She felt her face going red and quickly shook her head. "Daddy, stop. I don't have any dates."
Shawn made a knowing sound of annoyance and stabbed his fork through the final piece of broccoli on his plate. "Better not. It's the first night of scary movie week. Can't be makin' dates when y'already got plans with us."
Hershel shook his head. "Oh, c'mon, Shawn. We do scary movie week every year, and it's only the first night. Bethy's got other plans. It's not like she hasn't already seen The Sixth Sense a hundred times by now."
"That's not the point, Dad," Shawn started.
But Beth interjected, "Dad's right. I do have other plans. We do scary movie week every single year, and I haven't had anywhere else to go since high school. I can have my own life, too, ya know."
Hershel smiled in agreement, appearing almost proud that Beth was standing up for herself. But Shawn scoffed and shook his head.
"Hangin' out with Daryl again, huh? Ditchin' us fer him. Again," he muttered snarkily.
"I'm not ditching anybody fer him," Beth began to argue.
"Now, Shawn, you just relax," Hershel interjected. "That Daryl's a good man. He just set us up with the two best hands we could ask for. He's done nothin' to give us any reason not to trust him. If Beth wants to go hang out with her friend, she's got every right."
"Thank you, Daddy," Beth said sweetly. She shot Shawn a smug smile from across the table, barely resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at him.
Shawn heaved a frustrated sigh and grabbed up his empty plate and glass, shoving his chair back from the table. "Whatever," he grumbled, walking over to the sink and depositing his dirty dishes.
Beth furrowed her brow and asked him, "Why d'you have such a big problem with Daryl? You've been such a jerk lately, and—"
"I don't have a problem with Daryl," Shawn snapped, spinning around to glare back at her. "What I have a problem with is how much time y'all are spendin' alone together."
Hershel began to insert himself into the argument, "Now, son, you don't need—"
But Beth was too heated to let her dad finish. She argued back, her voice rising, "Well then the joke's on you, because we're never alone together!"
Shawn's expression morphed into puzzlement, as did Hershel's. And as soon as Beth realized what she'd said, she backpedaled.
"I jus' mean—Rick's usually with us. Or we're here, or out in public. It's not like we're sneakin' off to the woods together or somethin'." She felt her face turning red, though she was trying desperately to play it cool.
But Shawn just scoffed and said, "An' how is that not weirder? Suddenly yer hangin' out with Rick and Daryl? Runnin' off fer hours on end, doin' God knows what?" He turned to Hershel, gesturing towards Beth with an exasperated wave of his hand. "Are you not weirded out by this, Dad? Why do I feel like the only sane one around here anymore?"
Beth's breath hitched and she looked to her father expectantly, going tense and trying desperately to predict what his reaction may be. She hadn't thought to prepare a lie for this. She hadn't thought that her brother would be the one to point out the odd going-ons about the farm as of late. Hershel had seemed a bit suspicious at times, but if he'd had any doubts, she figured the last couple of days with Daryl had eased them and reassured him. Certainly, he and Daryl's little shovel talk had put his mind at ease.
Suddenly, Beth found herself wishing Merle were here. At least she knew he was good at lying on the spot.
But to her surprise, Hershel merely shrugged. He looked at Shawn and said plainly, "My twenty-four-year-old daughter spendin' time with a sheriff and a mechanic is about the least of my concerns these days, son. And it's certainly the least of yours. Beth is an adult—and so are you. I trust that you're both capable of making good decisions without me havin' to get involved. I'd like to think your mother and I raised y'all to have good judgment."
Shawn groaned, still audibly frustrated, and threw his hands up in the air. "Fine. Okay. Great. Guess I'm the asshole fer givin' a shit what my baby sister's doin' with some guy twice her age."
Hershel scolded, "Language." Though it went all but ignored.
"I'm not a baby anymore, Shawn," Beth reminded him. "That's the problem—I don't need you bein' overprotective all the time. You're closer to thirty than I am, you shouldn't be worryin' so much about what I'm doing."
Shawn fumed and opened his mouth like he was about to spit out another retort, but then he caught Hershel's stern eye and thought better of it. His lips snapped shut.
He huffed out a breath and shook his head, stomping towards the hall. "Whatever. I'm gonna take a shower 'fore we start the movie."
"Hey," Hershel called out. "Aren't you gonna thank your sister for cookin' us that nice dinner?"
Shawn was already halfway to the stairs. He called back, "Thanks a lot, Beth!" Though it was anything but sincere.
Beth sighed, shaking her head. She stood from the table and began gathering up her and her dad's dirty dishes without a word. She was still thrumming with frustration, thinking of a thousand other things she'd like to say to Shawn. But none of them would be helpful or productive.
As she set the dishes in the sink and began filling the basin with soap and water, she heard Hershel sighing with exasperation from where he still sat at the table. Then he mumbled, "Siblings. I suppose some things never change."
She glanced back at him with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Daddy. We shouldn't have been arguing at the table like that."
"It's not your fault," he assured. "Although you could choose your words a little more carefully. He's your only brother, after all. It's part of his job to worry about you."
"I know," Beth said, biting back her annoyance. "But it's not his job to try an' play second parent. I'm not in high school anymore. He wouldn't treat me like this if I'd moved away like Maggie did."
Hershel hummed thoughtfully. Maybe a little sadly. But he did not disagree.
Beth turned her attention on washing the dishes, listening to the soft sounds of her dad sipping his tea at the table. She'd expected more comments. Maybe even a gentle lecture. But he remained quiet. Contemplative.
As she rinsed the soap from the plates and set them in the dish rack to dry, she lamented quietly, "I really thought he was over it. I saw him talkin' to Daryl this mornin', and he was actually smiling for once. I thought he might be startin' to come around… but I guess I was wrong."
Hershel hmphed and chuckled. "He always was the most stubborn of all three of you. And that's sayin' a lot."
Beth couldn't help but giggle.
"I always used to say," Hershel went on. "Maggie turned my hair gray, but you an' Shawn turned it white. Too much like yer mama for your own good."
Beth looked back at him from over her shoulder, a smile on her face. "'S that so? 'Cause you don't talk much about how stubborn Mama could be."
He chuckled again. "Didn't think I had to. I know you remember it as well as I do."
She nodded in agreement and set the last of the clean dishes in the rack, drying her hands off on a towel and turning to face him. "I guess that's why me an' Shawn butt heads so much. We're too much alike. But he's just been so… distant the past couple years. Feels like it started after Maggie left. He never used to be so confrontational about everything. I don't get it."
"You don't?" Hershel asked, leaning back in his chair and peering at Beth with a patient and studious gaze.
"No," she admitted. "I've tried to. I try t'talk to him, but it always turns into a fight. He's just so freakin' hard-headed."
Hershel smiled knowingly and folded his hands atop the table. "Bethy, he's afraid of losing you."
Beth scoffed. "Losing me? I'm not goin' anywhere. He knows that better than anybody by now."
"No, no, not like that," Hershel explained. "He's afraid of losing you to your own life. He's scared. He's been scared since everything started changing. Losin' your mama, seeing Maggie move to the city, seeing me get weaker every day. And now, Maggie's gonna be gettin' married. She's gonna be living her own life and raising a family with her husband. And Shawn is afraid of being left alone here. Bein' left behind."
"What, you mean…" Beth huffed out in disbelief. "He's scared that I'm movin' on? He thinks I'm gonna run off with Daryl or somethin' and leave him here on his own?"
Hershel nodded.
"That's stupid," Beth quickly said, waving the idea away like the nonsense it was. "I'm not goin' anywhere. My whole life is here on this farm. With you guys."
"Maggie said the same thing," Hershel reminded her.
"Maggie didn't abandon us, or leave us behind," Beth said. "None of us ever expected her to stay here, anyway."
"You're right," Hershel agreed. "She didn't abandon us. And you wouldn't be abandoning us, either. Your whole life shouldn't be confined to this farm, to your brother and I. Going out into the world and making a life for yourself doesn't mean you have to choose between your future and your family."
She interpreted the look in her daddy's eyes and slowly nodded with understanding as it clicked in her head. "But that's not how Shawn sees it."
Her heart suddenly felt heavier than usual.
Hershel hummed. "I think Shawn sees everything for exactly what it is. When it comes to how he feels, though… that's an entirely different matter."
Beth glanced away, contemplating her father's words and trying to put herself in Shawn's shoes for a moment.
Of course. How had she not realized it before? Shawn felt abandoned. He felt like he was being left behind. He felt as though Maggie had moved on without him, and now he was feeling like Beth was about to do the same. He feared losing his dad, and living a life so far separated from his only remaining family.
Shawn was angry because he was scared. Because he could see that Beth was finally starting to crave more out of life. That she was finally making friends and developing relationships that would distance her further from him and their dad and their usual life on the farm. And more than that, she knew, he was afraid that she would settle for something less than she deserved, just because it was something different. He wasn't ready to accept the first half-decent guy who started taking up all of Beth's time and attention.
If only he knew just how much he and Daryl actually had in common, she pondered. At least when it came to their deepest fears.
"But," she said softly, still gazing down at the floor in deep thought. "He knows me better than that. He should know me better than that." Her eyes flicked up to meet Hershel's. "For the past six years, I didn't go anywhere. I didn't do anything. I didn't even think about movin' away, because I felt obligated to stay here. I've always put this farm and this family before everything else. Why would that change now? Does he really think that low of me?"
Hershel shook his head. "He's not thinkin' low of you, Doodlebug. He's thinkin' worst case scenario. He's very well aware that you've stayed because of your obligations… Just as he's well aware that obligations do not make for love and loyalty."
Beth chewed on her lower lip, running over it all in her head, desperately wishing she could just tell them the truth about her Gift. About Merle. About Florence Newton and The Swamp Witch and The Governor and The Dealmaker and all the impossible decisions she was being faced with.
If only she could tell Shawn and Daddy the truth. If only they could understand.
Maybe they'd even be proud of her.
But that was a pipe dream, and she was not some naive child anymore. They hadn't experienced the same things she and Maggie had. They weren't capable of understanding the whole truth. They couldn't possibly comprehend the moral and spiritual dilemmas she was being forced to face.
She had to do what was right. Even when it wasn't easy.
She slowly shook her head and said, "Well, I guess now isn't really the best time to tell you, and I'm not sure how I'm gonna tell Shawn, but… I've got plans on Friday night, too. Daryl an' I are goin' to a Halloween party with Rick."
She was expecting—and bracing herself for—a disappointed frown, or even a slight air of disapproval to his tone.
However, Hershel merely smiled and raised his eyebrows. "Oh? A Halloween party?"
She nodded and lied, "Yeah. It's, uh—at one of Rick's friends' house. Just outside the city."
"Sounds fun," he beamed. "Is it a costume party?"
Beth couldn't hold back the smile that broke across her face. "Yeah. Masquerade."
There was that familiar writhing of dread in her stomach, but it was overshadowed by the pleasant surprise at her dad's reaction. She wasn't really lying to him—not like she had been. She could actually tell him most of the truth. Though she still felt the need to pad it with protection. Just in case.
"Well, that sounds awfully fancy. Is that where you're goin' tonight? To shop for a costume?" Hershel guessed, still beaming happily.
She nodded. "Yeah. I think we're gonna make a quick trip to the city an' find one of those Halloween stores."
"That sounds like a lot more fun than watchin' an old scary movie that I'm gonna fall asleep halfway through," he joked. "I'll try to break the news about your party to Shawn so it's not such a surprise."
"That's prob'ly a good idea," Beth said, grateful. "Thanks, Daddy."
She wasn't really lying to him, she told herself. She was just padding it with protection. Just in case.
Yet all the same, she couldn't push down the ever-growing guilt inside her chest.
Lying to her brother was one thing. But Beth hated lying to her dad.
If only he could understand.
During the last fifteen minutes before Rick and Daryl's expected arrival, Beth hurriedly freshened up and gathered her things. She changed into clothes that would be easy to take on and off while trying on costumes, applied a light layer of eyeliner and mascara, and attempted to tame her hair into a presentable ponytail. Just as she was double-checking to make sure she had everything she needed in her little crossbody purse, her phone buzzed with a text from Daryl, letting her know they were pulling up to the house.
She rushed down the stairs and made a stop in the den, where her dad was sitting on the couch with a remote in his hand. She could hear Shawn preparing popcorn in the kitchen.
"I'm headin' out, Daddy," Beth said, barely pausing in the doorway. "Don't wait up."
Hershel gave her a smile and waved her off. "Alright, Bethy. You be safe now. And keep that phone on you."
"I will. Love you."
And with that, she was off. She raced out the front door and into the chilly evening air, immediately spotting the headlights of Rick's car pulling up in the driveway. As she fast-walked through the grass and met him halfway, she realized he wasn't driving his Sheriff's vehicle, but his little maroon Hyundai instead. When she approached the front of the car, she saw Rick and Daryl through the windshield, offering a wave of greeting. Rick pulled to a complete stop and waved back, gesturing towards the rear doors.
Beth climbed into the seat behind Daryl with a deep sigh, shutting the door behind her and fastening her seatbelt. "So where're we goin'?"
"Straight to Hell—ain't you been payin' attention? " Merle's scratchy voice filled her ear, catching her off-guard and making her jump in surprise.
He cackled gleefully when she whipped her head to the side at his sudden appearance, glaring at him and hissing out, "Jesus Christ, don't do that."
He only laughed harder, but Rick was glancing back at her curiously. She gave him a look that told him all he needed to know and he shook his head, barely offering a side-eye towards where he surmised Merle to have appeared.
"Costume shop," Daryl said simply.
Rick began backing down the long drive towards the road and explained, "In the city. Found one that's open fer another couple hours. Should give us enough time t'get somethin' decent together so we don't stick out like sore thumbs at the party."
Merle scoffed. "Only one gonna be stickin' out is you, Grimes."
Beth shot him a quizzical look and he shrugged, gesturing towards Rick.
"What? He's a cop! He wouldn't know how ta be inconspicuous if his life depended on it. Know what they say: if it walks like a pig, snorts like a pig, an' smells like bacon—"
"Okay, that's enough," Beth murmured, rolling her eyes.
"What is it?" RIck asked, meeting her gaze in the rearview mirror. "Merle got somethin' ta say?"
"When does he not?" Daryl muttered.
"Well," she started uncertainly. "He just, uh… seems t'think you'll look too much like a cop. Even in a costume."
She expected Rick to wave that idea away and admonish Merle for being so doubtful. But to her surprise, he contemplated her words for a moment. Then he hummed and nodded slowly.
"He's not wrong," he conceded. "I never was good at the whole undercover thing. I was actually thinkin' I might have ta let you two take the lead on this. Just so I don't put us at risk of bein' noticed."
Daryl snorted. "Did you just admit to Merle bein' right?"
Rick laughed. "Is that the weirdest thing to happen this week?"
As Merle shot her a smug smile from the other side of the backseat, Beth held her tongue and hoped the drive to Atlanta would pass quickly.
to be continued…
