It's been a while since I've taken on a prompt that wasn't part of a UBFL event (not that I ever mind doing those). So, this one goes out to Spield on tumblr - I hope you like it.
Title from the Simon and Garfunkel song.
"Something about Beth coming back/being found in the middle of the Daryl-Leah arc...Coz I like it messy."
Daryl found Leah…or had Leah found him? Or was it all the little puppy who apparently found them both. Either way, after the bullshit back and forth, they finally became more than just the pair of wanderers who just so happened to cross paths every couple of months or so. One day he found himself in a relationship, or at least, the closest thing to a relationship he'd ever been in.
Well, a physical relationship, anyway. Once she decided to tolerate his presence, it started with shared meals while watching Dog the puppy chase whatever bugs or rodents he found in the weeds surrounding the cabin they'd holed up in. One evening they kissed, though he still wasn't sure who had initiated it, and one thing led to another. And it was…well…it was. It's not like they were in love or anything.
Truth be told, he stayed with her because of Beth. It had been over a year, maybe even close to two at this point, and he still felt the hole in his heart where she had made herself a happy little place to fit and resided there still, even though she was just…gone.
Leah was nothing like Beth. Where Beth sang like a little bird, Leah couldn't carry a tune in a bucket with both hands. Beth had been learning to move almost as silently as he did; Leah stomped around the cabin like she was pissed off all the time. (He'd asked her on more than one occasion what made her so mad, and she told him time and again, "Nothing." And not the kind of "nothing," that meant, "something," but actually…nothing. So he decided to let it go and just get used to her heavy footfalls that were supposed to help carry him away from his memories of Beth.)
Leah questioned him every few weeks when he was going to give up his search for his long lost brother, but he never had an answer for her. The only reason he'd stopped searching for Beth the night she was taken was because there were too many options, too many paths to try to follow. He'd convinced himself over the years that if he hadn't given up, he would have found her and saved her from her tragic fate. Now he was searching again, tracing and retracing every path he could find in search of some sign of Rick, and when he'd run out of places on his map, he'd just find a bigger map. To hell with Leah and her nagging him to just give up already.
He'd been on his way along the river to one of the spots on his worn map that he hadn't visited in months, mostly because it was the furthest downstream and he just didn't want to make the trek over the winter months. Dog had been keeping pace with him for the most part until he suddenly got a wild hair up his ass and bounded off several yards ahead of him, sniffing through the overgrown brush, newly overgrown on the river's edge. Daryl heard an excited bark, but Dog was no longer able to be seen.
Figuring his pet had found a frog or something, Daryl was in no hurry to catch up with him. When he finally found Dog again, he was laying down next to a heap of tattered, muddy clothing. Daryl frowned; Dog knew better than to get too close to walkers, and the clothes were most certainly not just laying on the ground - they were covering a body. After searching for signs of…well, damn near anything worth noticing, Daryl slowly approached to move the floppy excuse for a cowboy hat from what- or whoever lay beneath it.
His heart stopped thudding in his chest, though his pulse was rushing through his ears. Her face was weathered, gaunt, and her hair was no longer the sunny blonde he remembered, but there was no mistaking - it was Beth. His Beth. He could hardly believe his eyes.
When his brain finally kicked back into gear, he reached for her, slowly turning her onto her back. "Good boy," he murmured to Dog, who was obviously concerned with what he'd found. Daryl scrambled for his bottle of water to pour over her chapped lips. Although she was clearly unconscious, he saw her throat swallow the tiny sip down while her eyes stayed closed. He poured another dribble, watched to make sure it went down without trouble, then capped the bottle and moved to lift her into his arms.
His heart froze with something like fear at how incredibly light she was. There was hardly anything to her already tiny frame anymore. Daryl cradled her to his chest, feeling the icy cold water from the river soaking through his own clothes. He gave a quick whistle for Dog to follow him, and together they made their way back to the cabin, not daring to stop for any reason to get her to safety as soon as possible.
He nearly kicked the door off its hinges, bursting inside and gently laying Beth on the bed he and Leah had been sharing, uncaring that the muddy water was now soaking through the flowery sheets Leah had been so excited to have found. He looked down at the blonde before him, who'd finally, by some miracle, come back to him, but was now dangerously close to leaving him again. Instinct taking over, he pulled his bandana out of his back pocket and used his water bottle to wet it, tenderly wiping her face and neck of the grime covering her before tilting the bottle to her lips again, watching her own instincts drink it down. It was only then that he noticed the blue tint to her lips. In his rush to get her back to the cabin, he noticed she was cold, but hadn't realized she was half frozen in the frigid water of the river, which had been swollen with freshly melted snow.
Survival 101 reminded him that the fastest way to warm someone fighting hypothermia was skin to skin contact. He wasted no time in building a roaring fire in the fireplace, laying blankets and pillows on the floor then shedding his clothes. He took extra care not to jostle her too much in removing Beth's mud-soaked clothes and moving her to the pile of blankets before joining her, wrapping them both under the faded quilt and holding her close in the cradle of his arms.
His hands gently ran up and down her back, creating some heat by friction, trying his hardest to ignore the way his fingers could feel her ribs, her vertebrae. What had she been through? Who had she been with? Where were they now?
Would she recognize him as easily as he had recognized her?
"What the hell are you doing?" a voice shrieked from behind him, making him wince at the shrillness of her voice.
Leah's voice.
He didn't bother turning around, not wanting to take any heat away from her now that she was starting to finally warm beneath his hands. The only thing he could think to say was, "I found her. Dog found her."
"Well, that's just wonderful," she said in a mockingly sing-song voice. "Who the hell is she?"
Daryl had never told Leah about Beth, and he wasn't going to try and explain now. "It's Beth. Keep your voice down. Do we have any more water ready? Food?" he asked.
"Get them your damn self," Leah hissed back at him. When he looked back, he found her fuming, arms crossed, jaws clenched tightly. "We agreed we wouldn't bring anyone back here, that it wasn't safe."
Daryl ignored her anger. "She's staying," he quietly commanded, then turned his head back to look down at Beth. Relief flooded his system when he saw her lips had pinked up quite a bit. "I ain't never lettin' her go again."
Leah gasped so hard she nearly choked. "Excuse me?!"
Daryl would have apologized, but he wasn't the least bit sorry. He was too busy plotting out the quickest path back to Hilltop to get her to the clinic, planning the supplies he'd be taking with him while carrying her.
Or would he even take her back at all? Eventually, yeah, of course, but while she was still weak, dehydrated and starving? Should he risk moving before she was even conscious? How would he protect her if they ended up getting swarmed by walkers? What would they do for her at the clinic, anyway? The same thing he was doing - keep her warm and keep food and water on hand as much as he could. He was certain he had some deer jerky hidden away somewhere, just in case.
The front door slamming behind him pulled him from his thoughts abruptly. Shit. Leah at least deserved an explanation, but he was more than reluctant to leave Beth's side. Daryl gave a sharp whistle, then heard Dog's nails clatter on the worn wooden floor. He carefully extracted himself from the nest of blankets, making sure Beth was properly covered, keeping her modesty and any body heat he'd generated safe beneath the covers. He pointed at the spot he'd just vacated, "Bed." Dog obediently lay beside her, looking up at his human friend as if waiting for further instructions.
Daryl pulled his jeans back on, threw his shirt on without bothering to button it before shoving his feet in his boots, then grabbed his crossbow and headed for the door. He pointed at Dog before going outside, "Stay." Dog rested his head on his paws and rolled to his side, as if somehow he knew Beth needed any warmth he could lend her. "Good boy," he said with a half smile, which he schooled into a serious face before joining Leah outside.
Without missing a beat, she started in on him the second he opened the screen door. "So, is that the reason you keep talking about going back? Looking for your dead brother, my ass," she scoffed.
"You ain't got no idea what you're talkin' 'bout," Daryl said softly. "She ain't…that's not what this is," he tried feebly to explain, but the shock of Beth still being alive - alive and here with him - was still taking its time to settle in his brain. "She's…"
Leah cut him off, "You didn't even tell her about me, did you? You know what, don't even bother answering that. I know you didn't, because you sure as hell never told me about her."
Daryl wasn't about to beg for her to listen so he could plead his case. As far as he was concerned, there was no case. Leah certainly wasn't in the right state of mind to listen, anyway. "Guess you got it all figured out, then, huh?"
"Not like you're all that hard to figure out," she scoffed. She dropped her hands to rest on her hips, her right hand playing with the clasp that held her pistol in place on her belt. Daryl saw an odd expression cross her features, one he hadn't seen since their very first encounter, when she'd had him tied to a chair and he woke up with a gun pointed at his head.
It was at that moment he knew that neither of them would be safe around Leah. Her suddenly cool demeanor made his mind up for him - they had to head back as soon as possible, or he had to find a way to get rid of Leah.
"Look," he began, hoping that whatever force in the universe had brought Beth back to him would help him out one more time. He didn't try to explain. Something told him Leah wouldn't exactly be open to hearing him out, anyway. Instead, he kept it simple and to the point, "I gotta get her back. I ain't losin' her again, not on my watch."
Leah shook her head and looked up into the late morning sky. "You comin' back?"
He shifted his weight, as if his body was preparing itself to run…or dodge a bullet. "Nah. I'm gonna…I gotta stay with her." When she made no move to stop him, he turned around and went back toward the house.
"So that's it, then?" she narrowed her eyes on him again, a mixture of hurt and icy hatred seeping through her voice. "After…after everything?"
Daryl paused in the doorway, sighing heavily and hanging his head. It wasn't like this was a hard choice for him. He really just wanted to get done what needed to be done. "Yeah. That's it," he said, turning back to face her. "And before you start with the same ol' bullshit of 'where do I belong,'" he gestured back to Beth. "It's with her. She saved my life, and I couldn't save her back. Now's my chance, and no one," he looked back to Leah with an icy glare, "No one is going to stop me."
He didn't give another thought to the woman still standing outside. Instead, he rushed to pack what little he had, dressing her in his warmest clothes before lifting her in his arms.
As he crossed the front yard toward the surrounding woods, Dog close on his heels, he sensed that Leah was no longer there.
