To say the least, Beth and Daryl would always be an interesting fit. They were both enamored in their new relationship, but still the same head strong individuals. Sometimes, it was like a storybook, with their days filled with kissing sunburnt lips, and nights filled with countless shots and two step. But, some days, there was bickering that escalated to fighting, making their throats burned without the need of alcohol. Smiles could drop from their faces almost quicker than they appeared, as they'd both learned from drunken fathers how to spew hate filled words. Some nights, Daryl would wake to the sound of sniffling, and a teary-eyed Beth would curl into his chest, muffling her sobs. In those moments, there was an undeniable support from him, and he held her close until her tears softened to hiccups.
Beth, as always, was thankful for everything Daryl did and for what he put up with. She let herself go completely around him and she didn't feel the need to stiffen her upper lip at all times like she had at home. Sometimes she became so overwhelmed with lingering grief, or doubt, that she couldn't help herself. Other times, she didn't know why she cried. Often times she exhausted herself, therefore Beth had no clue how Daryl managed; along with everything else.
However, throughout it all, they stayed together.
Beth felt a great satisfaction whenever they were together, or someone brought their relationship up, and she could tell the truth. She giggled with Annabelle and all the others about her sexual endeavors – deciding she was far too old to be so shy about it – all while Carol rolled her eyes, laughing at them to get back to work. Carol had however pulled Beth aside, and to her surprise thanked her, because she'd hardly ever seen Daryl smile before; and she and so many others wanted to get use to that. His smiles, or course, had never really been a rarity to her. But, Beth still found herself getting use to some things.
As much as she had tried to stop herself, Beth had gotten used to sleeping next to Daryl, and found herself waiting up for him if he wasn't home. She also had so get used to the word girlfriend being used without a sarcastic undertone to it. But the most unexpected of things to get used to was Daryl sharing the surprisingly dark parts of his life with her.
At night, Beth would lay beside him in bed and trace the scars on his back. They were all different colors, from different ages and different healing times. Sometimes, he should tell her where and when they were given. Daryl could remember the color of the belt, or whether or not his mother cleaned the wound. Other times, he'd been so young, there wasn't anything he could recall. But the lashings weren't the beginning of the abuse he faced. According to Daryl, there used to be scars from cigarette bud burns up and down his arms, but they had not withstood the test of time. Nor had the bruises from the beatings. As for the tattoo – the story she desperately wanted to know from day one – well, that was thanks to good old' Merle. Daryl's brother had a friend once. A junky, of course, who liked to give basement tattoos. In Daryl's words, he'd accompanied his brother to the basement one day to make sure he didn't pick out a dick tattoo while he was piss drunk. By the end of the story, Daryl was somehow being held down by Merle him until every last line was filled.
It had been infected several times before healing.
A lot of it she didn't, or couldn't understand. Her father was mean when he drank, but if he had ever once laid a hand on her mom or his children, he would have been out the door before he could stutter a hopeless apology. If her siblings had pulled half the shit Merle had, Beth couldn't even imagine what she would have done for them, if her sense of duty to her family would have been enough. It certainly hadn't been enough for her to go home. But Daryl, all his life, had been a rock – no, a mountain – remaining unshaken through everything. Beth thought that was maybe how Daryl put up with her manic emotions. Compared to the shit show that had been his family, she might just be another small stone thrown at the base of the mountain. But, she happened to forget all about natural disasters, and how quickly a shift in the base could cause more pieces to come tumbling down.
. . .
The earthquake that began to shake the foundation was not something either they could have seen coming. It was a day like any other, in the middle of afternoon, with not much going on. Beth wanted to do something other than hangout at the garage, where she always seemed a little uncomfortable. The drugs they were stashing for Blake had worn their welcome on her, and were passed due for pick up. But Merle kept coming up with excuses that for their extended stay. Daryl was welcome obliged and take her mind off of it by seeing if Lori had opened up for the day.
Lori sometimes opened the bar, when she desperately needed to get away from the new baby. She adored the thing, but it had been well over a decade since she dealt with a new born. Judith was what they had called her – and while the little wallet sized photos Lori carried around of her were cute, just by looking at them, Daryl could tell the kid had a set of lungs on her. Merle had been dragged along for the sake of Daryl refusing to hear he was whipped. His brother's new favorite thing was to make a WAH-PAH sound any time he went home to her, did something she asked, or skipped going out.
"I would love to meet her one day" Beth cooed whenever she saw the photos. Rick was still hesitant to bring Beth around the baby due to the company she kept, and their son Carl adored babysitting his sister.
"I'll end up bringing her by the bar at some point." Lori assured her. "School is about to start and Carl won't be able to be with her 24/7."
"Maybe you can just make one of your own." Merle cackled and looked at his brother.
Daryl couldn't help but smile at Beth's reaction to the photos, but he was also filled with fear every time she asked what he thought of the baby – and Merle knew it. But as soon as he saw her look of horror at the suggestion, he felt a little better. "Shut up, Merle."
"Now I'm just saying…" Merle began, but never finished. The loud roar of motorcycles put an end to his attempts of teasing.
It had to be an entire gang, just from the sheer amount of noise coming from the street, which was particularly strange to Daryl. It wasn't often they came through town, seeing as the shop was on the outskirts. No one looked too worried though. Lori and Merle just made faces at each other, and Beth seemed curious as the engines died down.
Daryl didn't bother turning around as the door open and shut, but he did watch the smile vanish from Lori's face, as she looked over to him in panic. He quickly swiveled around in his chair to see a familiar, but unwelcomed face, along with a few of his cronies. Jax was a man Daryl never liked, a part of Blake's cartel – a lieutenant, last time he dealt with him. He had no problem making sure runners had Merle well plied in the past, or letting them know when their lives were at risk by the very person they worked for. They hadn't heard from him in a while, however, though he was sure Merle knew why.
"I told you. Where there's a bar, there's a Dixon." Jax said as he started walking over to them.
"How can I help you?" Lori muttered.
"We're just here visiting some old friends." Jax laughed, then paused as Beth caught his attention. "And some new one's too." He looked Beth over, more than once, and smiled at her. "Who do you belong to, Sweetheart?"
Daryl watched Beth go red. Then her mouth began to open and he knew she was about to say some bullshit about her not belonging to anyone, and him being able to go straight to hell. But she didn't understand that, to Jax, anything was his for the right price. Instinctively, Daryl stood up, trying to block Jax's view of the blonde. "What do you want?"
"Ask, and answered." Jax laughed again. "She's too good for you, Daryl."
"What do you want?" Daryl repeated himself.
Jax finally took his eyes off Beth and looked at Daryl. There was an undeniable tension growing, with his crooked, smug smile and sense of superiority. "We're here to collect what you're holding for Blake."
"Pfft." Merle interrupted, and as Daryl had guessed, had the answer to Jax's absence. "We both know ain't working for him anymore…I heard there was a price…"
"...We're talking to the smart one, Merle, not you." Jax snapped. "So, where is it?"
"Merle." Lori started. "Go get Rick, tell him I want him at the bar."
Daryl looked over a Lori, who was he could tell was slowly reaching down behind the bar or what he knew was a bat. She'd seen Jax once or twice, but had heard many things about him, and seen the results of his influence first hand with Merle. They didn't stop Merle from leaving out the back though. They didn't know who Rick was. But all the while he was watching his brother and Lori, he didn't notice Beth still fuming behind him, and she was going to explode.
Alarms started going off in Daryl's head as soon as she pushed passed him. What the hell did she think she was doing!? Immediately he grabbed her to try to stop her. "Get back behind me, now!"
"Let go of me!" Beth just shook him off her arm and narrowed her eyes at Jax. "Why should I be scared of him?"
Did she really not understand? She had to know what she was getting herself into, she knew what they were holding for Blake and she knew that even Merle wasn't a big enough idiot not to bring the police into it. Did she think she was buying time for Rick to get there? Did she think Jax wouldn't hurt a girl?
"Oh you got a little moxie, Sweetheart." Jax said. "But you should let the big boys play and stick to looking pretty."
Beth scoffed, but spoke before Daryl could stop her. "You think you can intimidate us when we clearly have what you want. I don't get that. But, then again, if I wanted to see things from your point of view, my head would have to be pretty far up my ass."
Daryl knew what she'd done as soon as soon the words came out of her mouth. He reached for her right arm again as Jax reached for pocket and whipped out a knife.
"You…smart mouth, little bitch!" Jax swiped at her, aiming for what Daryl bet was supposed to be her throat, but missing that particular spot as he pulled the blonde away as fast has he could. Jax did, however, manage to get a deep gash right on her left arm as she went crashing to the floor – screaming.
The next few moments happened at hyper speed. Lori tossed Daryl the baseball bat, and he swung at the empty air, warning Jax. They backed away from the surprise, but weren't about to back down. In fact, they seemed to be enjoying themselves. It was likely that, with some more people outside, at least a few of them were packing, Daryl had nothing and knew a gun fight would be over before it even started. But, to his relief, moments after he took his swing the sound of police sirens filled the air.
"This isn't over, you son of a bitch." Jax and his cronies turned on their heels and ran out of the bar. The sound of the motorcycles coming back to life now joined the sirens.
For a few moments Daryl stood in shock, trying to process what had just happened and trying to regain some of his composer as his eyes fell to a wide eyed, Beth. Her scream had been the last thing he heard from her, and now all she could do was sit silently. She was holding on to her arm, quite uselessly, as a pool was being created on the floor from the blood that was running from the laceration. How stupid was she? How stupid was he? How could he have let her get hurt like that?
"Get her to the hospital!" Lori cried over the noise, snapping his attention the commotion going on outside.
"Hos…hospital? Beth stuttered. "I can't go to the hospital!"
Lori wasn't listening to her, but Daryl couldn't ignore as the blonde seizing his sleeve – covering him with smeared, bloody handprints. She looked desperate and scared, but it didn't seem as though either of those emotions had to do with the wound. He tried to asked calmly, but every ounce of panic he was feeling came out as soon as he opened his mouth, "What the fuck do you mean you can't go to the hospital?"
"My mom…" Beth cried "…my mom is my emergency contact! They'll call her, Daryl…I can't go!"
He didn't know what to do. He had thought the hospital was the right call was, but the pleading tone in her voice was enough to make him think differently. He looked at Lori, hoping she'd tell him what to do, but she didn't know the whole story, and all she could do was look confused and somewhat sick.
"Daryl…" Beth begged one more time, finalizing his decision.
"I have a first aid kit at the cabin." He muttered to Lori.
She looked like she was going to put up an argument at first, but then responded. "Rick doesn't know you were here, if Merle did exactly what he was told. Put the bat in the blood. I'll say it belongs to Jax."
Daryl did as he was told, then helped the blonde up. She was blinking rapidly and thanking Lori, but the pain real pain hadn't caught up to her, yet. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn't as bad, or as deep as it looked. He began to head toward the back as the sirens came closer, and the engines became further. His goal was to get her to the truck, going as unseen as possible – because even though he could have carried her to the cabin if he had to their best and quickest bet was the truck.
"Wait!" Lori stopped him as they walked passed the back of the counter and handed him a very full, very expensive bottle of vodka. "On the house."
"Thanks." Daryl almost laughed.
"Now get out of here!"
AN: it's not the sons I just like the name Jax.