This takes place sometime post 5x13.
Though the motorcycle in Aaron's garage wasn't quite fixed, Daryl didn't let that keep him within the walls of Alexandria. He didn't give much thought to wandering the neighborhood and getting to know all the people who came before. The only ones who mattered one bit to him were the people he knew. The ones that didn't eye him like he might attack like a feral dog any second if they didn't keep their distance. With nothing but darkness surrounding him and a tree at his back, Daryl felt like he could breathe. He hadn't been able to stomach four walls closing in on him since the funeral home.
As if summoned by the mere thought of that place, the echo of her singing voice floated through his mind as moonlight caught on the pale strands of her hair.
He didn't look up from the crossbow lying in his lap, taking the usual care in cleaning the one thing that had managed to hold onto all these years. He could remember setting its weight in her small hands, letting her test it out before standing behind her, patiently arranging her grip until she held it just right. Even when her arms began to tremble with fatigue, she didn't let it drop, walking through the forest on quiet feet as she looked for the signs that she'd learned from him. She wanted to learn to survive. It didn't make much of a difference in the end. Nothing that he taught her could have done a damn thing to save her.
"You ain't talkin' tonight?"
It was unlike him to break any silence but her being there and not saying a word wasn't exactly usual. It made him wonder what had changed. His own mind, most likely, since it wasn't really Beth there. So what had he done to make it different?
"I'm not helpin' any," she finally said, speaking in the whisper that he'd taught her to use when they were out in the open. "Me bein' around… I think it's only makin' you hurt more."
A huff passed his lips. Not a laugh, but not a sigh either. Somewhere in between the two.
"S'not like I'd be feelin' good," he said with a shrug, keeping his attention on the stretch of darkness around him even as he talked to the ghost that wouldn't stop haunting him. "Losing people ain't exactly a walk in the fuckin' park."
He didn't know how it worked, that he could feel her eyes on him. Like a weight. Pressing down. Crushing him.
"I'd stay away if I could," Beth said with something lost and sad about her voice.
A painful jolt struck him directly in the center of his chest, nearly leaving him gasping for air as his hands curled into fists atop his lap.
"Don't."
His eyes finally lifted, just in time to watch a tear trace a slow path down her cheek.
"Seven," Beth told him, as if it meant a damn thing to him.
Daryl flinched as if he'd been struck, his chewed down fingernails doing nothing to the palms of his hands even as he dug them into his skin.
"The fuck does that mean, girl?" he all but growled.
Beth didn't answer, turning her face away to stare into the darkness. There was no telling how but somehow, as her lips parted, he knew exactly what would happen next.
"Well, God bless your crooked little heart," she sang, bringing to mind the haunting echo of her voice in the middle of that cellblock. "St. Louis got the best of me."
Daryl tipped his head back against the tree and let his eyes fall closed. Not for the first time, he was the only one who could hear her song. He'd be damned if he didn't listen to every word.
I miss your broken China voice
How I wish you were still here with me
Oh, you build it up, you wreck it down
Then you burn your mansion to the ground
Oh, there's nothing left to keep you here
But when you're falling behind in this big blue world
Oh, you've got to hold on, hold on
Babe, you gotta hold on
Take my hand, I'm standing right here
You gotta hold on
Let me know what you think!
The song that Beth sings is the same Tom Waits one that she sings inside of the prison in s3.