Beth hears the first shot from her room upstairs. It sounds like the crack of a rifle, but she can't be certain. She's shot handguns and hunting rifles both, but she never paid attention to the distinctive sound each one makes when fired, not until recently. Not until shooting with Jimmy for fun became a steady aim, life or death situation. Not until this last year or better when shots fired has become a daily occurrence. She and Maggie hit the front porch at the same time. Patricia and her Daddy aren't far behind. Although gun shots have become the norm, its been a relatively quiet couple of days, and a single shot after dark is more than a bit concerning.
The moon is as high as it gets, close and completely full, illuminating the fields and the barns and the makeshift community camp where their friends are living. Friends? Allies? Beth isn't exactly sure what to call the group. She heads down the steps after Maggie. "You stay here," Maggie shoots over her shoulder.
Beth pauses, but only briefly. "The hell with that," she mumbles under her breath and takes off after her sister.
"Bethy!" she hears, but she doesn't stop. "Elizabeth!" her daddy shouts again, but Beth keeps going. She knows she'll be in trouble later, but Daddy needs to realize she isn't a little girl anymore, and no one can protect her in this new world but herself. She may not be as tough as Maggie, but she's done staying on the porch.
She can see the group crowded together in a half circle. They're all staring down at something on the ground in front of them. Andrea is on her knees. With the help of the moon, Beth can just make out the angel wings on Daryl's back. He steps forward, in front of Rick, and his pale, sleeveless arm rises like a ghost. Another shot rings out. It's louder in Beth's ears than the last, but it doesn't rattle like before. Maggie and Beth both stop. Everyone ahead looks away from what is lying on the ground before them. A soft "Nooo…" floats away on the wind. Daryl is the first to move. He walks away pointedly and disappears into the brush. Rick watches him go, and Beth beats back the overwhelming urge to go to him.
Beth and Maggie quietly join the group and find Dale dead in the grass, 30 yards or so from a dead and gutted cow. She realizes that Dale must have seen the poor thing suffering and put it down. Sweet Dale and his tender heart. Only to stir the dead and end up in the same miserable condition as the cow. Daryl must have been the one to put Dale down with that second shot. She is in awe of Daryl's strength and compassion. She wonders what it must have cost him to step up and save the rest of the group the pain of shouldering such a responsibility.
Beth offers to fetch a blanket so they can carry Dale back towards the house to bury him. She takes off at a run and finds her daddy waiting on the porch.
"I know you heard me, Bethy. Please don't ignore me like that again."
"I'm sorry, Daddy," she says, and she means it, but she will not promise that it won't happen again. "I've got to grab a blanket or something, to wrap Dale in. He's dead."
If Hershel is shocked at his sweet baby girl's matter-of-fact tone, it doesn't show. Perhaps he is too preoccupied with Dale's death. "What happened?" he manages before Beth disappears inside.
"He put one of the cows down. Looked like a walker got her. Guess that same walker got Dale too."
Hershel's brow furrows, but he says nothing else. Beth disappears into the house and is back in a flash, racing past Hershel to get the thick flannel sheet she grabbed to the group. When she arrives, her eyes search for Daryl, but he is nowhere to be found. Beth and the others follow along as Shane and Rick carry Dale's body back toward the house. Hershel directs them to the same area where Annette and Shawn were laid to rest not quite three weeks ago.
They all take turns digging and standing watch. The appearance of a single walker, sometimes three or four, is increasing in frequency. She heard Rick talking to her daddy about it a couple of days ago.
With that in mind, Beth keeps scouring what she can see of the farm, searching for Daryl. Her eyes sweep across the field where she last saw him. Around the hay barn, over and around the RV, by the fire in front of the tents. Andrea and Rick carry a large stone and place it gently at the head of Dale's grave. Daddy says a quick word and a prayer. Beth sees Maggie squeeze Glenn's hand, then she motions for Beth to walk with her back to the house. Beth takes one last look over her shoulder. Nothing.
It's a few hours later, and Beth is just tucking herself into bed when she hears a knock on her open window. Jimmy always does this when he owes her an apology. He thinks it's a big, romantic gesture. Romeo climbs the big oak to her bedroom window. How could she refuse? Beth rolls her eyes and turns her back to the window. Jimmy has tried everything he can think of in the last few weeks to get back in her good graces.
"Beth! Girl, you 'wake?" Beth's eyes pop open when she hears the gruff rumble of Daryl's whisper-shout. She is tangled in the bed sheet and nearly screams in frustration trying to break free. Daryl is perched on the 2x4 planks nailed to the thick, sturdy branches of the ancient oak just outside her bedroom window. Beth's tree house is really no more than an undulating floor framed by planked, 3-foot walls. It's more like a bridge from her room to the oak's trunk, not more than 4-foot wide at any point. Her ceiling is a canopy of leaves. It has always been one of her favorite places on earth. It is here she played her guitar, composed her music, put her thoughts down on paper in her old, warn out journal. Now, it's where Daryl waits for her to join him. She climbs out through the window and grabs the branch above her to pull herself upright. "Careful, girl," he grumbles, and steadies her with a light touch to her hips. The contact is brief. A pained expression crosses his face, and he quickly retreats. Beth smiles and goes to sit next to him, their backs resting against the tree trunk. It's a tight fit. Their shoulders and thighs press against one another. The heat from Daryl seeps into her bones, warming her from head to toe.
Daryl is chewing on the inside of his lip, eyes locked on the crossbow in his lap. "Can I hold it?"
Daryl's head whips around to face her. "What?"
Beth's smile is mischievous when she meets his eyes. "Your crossbow. Can I hold it?"
"Hummmm," His eyes squint, and he searches her face. Beth wonders if she will be deemed worthy of the privilege.
"Well, Mr. Dixon, you gonna' show it to me or not?"
He rolls his eyes and lifts the bow from his lap. Beth reaches for it, but he blocks her with his arm. "Slow down there, grabby pants. Don't need you accidently firin' a bolt into that fancy guitar in there." He occupies himself with removing the loaded bolt and checking the safety.
"It ain't fancy," she huffs. "It's old and beat up…" An errant thought crosses her mind. "How do you know I have a guitar in my room?"
"Uh duno," he shrugs. "You wan'a see this thing or not," he grouses.
Beth full on giggles at that. She nods and waits for Daryl to pass her the crossbow. He holds it just over her outstretched thighs and Beth slowly lifts her hands to take the weight of it. Its heavier than she imagined. She's seen him shoot. He makes it look so easy.
"Here," he says. "You right-handed?" Beth nods. There isn't room for Daryl to shift and take the weight of the bow while Beth adjusts her hands. So, without thinking about it too much, he lifts his arm and circles her shoulder. Beth angles into him. "Switch yer hands. Put yer right one here, next to the trigger. Put your left one here. Underhanded… Now bring it up to yer shoulder and snug it in tight against ya'"
Beth lifts the bow as she is instructed. Her hands are shaking, but it ain't from the weight of the bow. Daryl ducks his head and they are cheek to cheek. He slides his fingers under her trigger hand to help her steady the weapon. He points to the scope with his other hand. "Look through that lil' square there to aim."
Beth closes one eye and leans toward the scope. The bow falls away from her shoulder as she does. Daryl pulls it back to her and, in doing so, pulls Beth snuggly against him. She draws in a shaky breath.
" 'Ats good. Take a deep breath, aim, let it out slow, and fire."
Beth's pulse is slamming in her ears. As close as Daryl is right now, she's sure he can hear it too.
"Go ahead and squeeze the trigger," he whispers. His breath teases the hair around her face, and it dances across her cheek.
"One steady motion."
She feels the timber of his voice in his chest as it rises to scrape across the gravel in his throat. He swallows hard, and Beth shivers.
"It ain't loaded. I got the safety on."
Beth pulls back on the trigger and imagines she's just killed her first walker. She looks over her shoulder and graces Daryl with a smile so big and bright it nearly knocks him back. "Thank you," she whispers sincerely.
Daryl stares a second longer than he should. Beth blinks, and the spell is broken. He shakes his head and pulls his arm from around her shoulder. He takes his crossbow back and starts to stand. Beth grabs his forearm.
"Wait! Where you goin'?"
Daryl stills, clearly conflicted on whether to go or stay. He finally relaxes and sinks back down next to Beth. The crossbow goes back to his lap and the cuticle of his thumb goes to his teeth. Beth reaches for his hand and pulls it back from his mouth. "You'll make it bleed."
He doesn't fight her on it. She lets go of his hand and shifts so that she's somewhat facing him. She tucks her knees under her chin and wraps her arms tightly around her legs.
"So, did you want to talk to me about somethin'?"
Daryl's brow furrows, but he doesn't answer.
Beth's eyebrows lift, encouraging him to speak. When he doesn't, she lowers her knees and rests them lightly on his thigh. She thinks she knows why he is here. Why he climbed the tree to find her. So, she screws up her courage and takes that bet. "I'm sorry about Dale." He flinches, but she carries on. "He seemed like a good man. I'm glad you were there so he didn't have to suffer."
Daryl studies her, teeth working on the inside of his lip. "Ain't never killed nobody before."
Beth gives him a small, comforting smile. "It's not like you killed him out 'a meaness, Daryl… You didn't even really kill him. You showed him mercy… Let him go quick instead of sufferin' and comin' back as one of those things. I know he's grateful for that."
"You don't think I'm some heartless, redneck som' bitch for what I done?"
The shame in his eyes nearly breaks Beth's heart in half. He wears his guilt like a badge.
"Daryl… I saw what it did to ya' to pull that trigger. I think ya' got a bigger heart in there…" she says and lightly taps his chest, "than yer willin' to let folks see."
Beth is stunned when he covers her hand and gently presses her fingers against his chest. The allegro appassionato of his heart shocks her. She graces him with a sweet, tender smile.
He thinks her smile will someday be his undoing.
They share the moment, neither quite sure what all of this means. Daryl squeezes her hand and clears his throat. "I should get back. Gotta' take watch."
He stands and extends a hand to Beth. She takes it, and he lifts her effortlessly to her feet. She nods and walks past him to her window.
"Beth," he says.
She straddles the window seal and looks back to him.
"Get a pack together. Somethin' ya' can run with. Socks, sweatshirt, food, whatever ya' think ya' need. Keep it handy. Anythan' happens to this place, I'll find ya'. Keep ya' safe."
She smiles again, but he can see the worry in her eyes. "I know ya' will. I'll get a bag together, but I think yer worryin' for nothin'. We're good here."
He doesn't argue, but he doesn't agree with her either. Something's coming. He can feel it.
"Goodnight, Daryl," she says before disappearing through the window.
He waits a beat before shimmying back down the tree. He's not sure what this girl is doing to him exactly, but he doesn't hate the way he feels when he's around her. He does know that he meant what he said. Anything happens, and he'll find her. He'll keep her safe or dye trying.