Daryl knocked Beth aside, where she fell backwards into the hallway wall. Quickly, and with deft precision, he plunged his knife into each walker's rotting head, not even blinking as the blood poured down his arms from their wounds. He stepped over each fallen body to tackle the next; the ordeal was over in less than a minute. Without turning to face Beth, he entered the kitchen, before coming back into the hallway and heading to the room opposite. Beth stood with her back against the wall, her chest hitching with each painfully ragged breath she dragged down into her lungs, in a forced attempt to keep panic at bay. Daryl came back out to her and motioned for her to follow him upstairs. There was no time for words. Beth followed quickly, tears pricking at her eyes.
Upstairs, Daryl left her in the carpeted hallway as he checked each room, then he dragged her into one of the bedrooms, where he enlisted her help in moving the desk and then the wrought iron bed up against the door.
'Close the blinds,' he hissed, sweat gleaming on his face. Beth did as she was told, running over to the one window. She chanced a look outside just before she pulled the blind; the street just beyond was strewn with walkers, shambling their way through the city. She could not make out the front of the shop they had just been in, the street in front was saturated. She quickly lowered the blinds, hoping, praying, that none of them had spotted the movement. Then she returned to Daryl, who was hunched down on the floor.
'All the windows 'n' doors downstairs are covered,' he whispered, 'we stay here, we stay low, we stay silent.'
Beth nodded. She took in a hitching breath, trying to calm herself.
'We're safe,' he said. 'We're safe.'
Beth nodded fiercely, but the lump in her throat which had formed downstairs was still firmly there. At least it had knocked down her heart, which had settled now in the pit of her stomach. Despite her best efforts to block the sound out, Beth could hear the sounds of the horde outside. Panic was still threatening to overwhelm her, so she pressed the palm of her hand firmly to her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut tight. Her head was pounding and she felt nausea sweeping over her in giant waves, rocking her small frame as she pictured her family home as it became overrun with the undead. The panic that had risen and taken over their group, her father, her sister. The darkness of the night as they had fled, the sight of the masses of wandering corpses approaching the place she loved, their rotten faces emerging from the trees. The one and only thought that could occupy her mind, crystal clear and ringing like the death toll of a bell; they were all going to die.
We were already dead.
Beth's panic stricken mind told her. Before she even knew what was happening, thick tears were forcing their way out from under her closed eyelids, streaming down her face, leaving their shining track marks against her pale flesh, carving their way through the dirt and grime and sweat that covered her once pretty face. She pushed both hands firmly to her mouth, covering her nose, trying with all of her concentrated will to calm the sea of anguish that had taken over her. But it was no use. The memories and the pain had come back to her with such sudden velocity that she had no way to stem it. Were they really safe? How well would this house stand against the horde outside? What if one of them had seen them, heard them? Where one went, more followed. Beth felt bile rise in her throat, but did her best to swallow it back.
Then the heavy weight of Daryl's arm broke through her reverie of pain, bringing her back into the real world, into the dim, dark and dusty interior of the master bedroom she was currently huddled in, back against the wall. Daryl's arm's, strong and hard, wrapped their way around her shoulders, pulling her into him until she had fallen against his chest, her face buried in against the leather of his vest and the fabric of his shirt. One of his arms were wrapped tightly around her shoulders, the other snaked around her waist as he had pulled her almost on to his lap, one leg raised behind her and the wall, the other out in front of her. He held her like it for as long as she needed, leaving her to silently sob into his chest until she was overcome with fatigue.
. . .
Eventually, she lifted her head, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. She took a moment to take in a few deep breaths, before taking stock of the situation. She glanced up to see Daryl's face inches away from her own. Her breath caught in her throat. She could see the flecks of grey in his beard. Neither of them spoke for a moment, Daryl's narrowed eyes were staring straight in to hers, an intense look that almost frightened her. His shoulder was leaning against the wall, his elbow propped up on his own knee, but twisted around Beth's shoulders. His fingers were holding her so tensely they were digging into her flesh, almost painfully. He removed his other arm from around her waist and gently wiped a tear away from her cheek. As his hand touched her skin, Beth drew in a deep breath. She felt the heat rise to her face, her heart rate speed up. Her eyes were sore, she felt exhausted and her ankle was throbbing again. Daryl very gently, and very slowly, snaked his hand from her cheek to the back of her head, his fingers brushing the top of her neck. Shivers ran their course through Beth's body. She bit her lower lip. His eyes moved from each of her own as though he was trying to see as much of her as he could, read deeper than her exterior.
Then a crash from outside drew his eyes up, away from her face and towards the window. Beth took in the curvature of his jaw as he looked up, the scuffs and marks that covered his skin, the dirt that covered it, the stubble which ran its way down his neck from the greying beard. His hand was almost boiling on her neck. His eyes moved back down to her face, his mouth set into a grim line. He moved his hand from her and ran it over his face, sighing.
'You okay?' he asked, his voice soft and quiet, but deep and husky.
Beth nodded. Daryl nodded back at her before moving his arms from around her and scooting himself backwards, away from her. He hoisted himself up and stretched his body out, breathing out. Beth watched him from the floor, pulling her knees to her chest, suddenly feeling very small and very alone.
'I – sorry about your shirt,' she whispered.
Daryl glanced down at his chest to where her tears had soaked into the fabric, leaving a damp smudge. He waved his hand to say no worries.
'Are we safe?' Beth asked, her blue eyes wide and wet, looking up at the older man who was currently her only form of protection.
Daryl rubbed his hands together, sighing.
'Think so,' he said quietly, 'they're still ou' there, we keep silent they should'n' hear.'
Beth nodded. She guessed that meant they had to stay there for a while, but she didn't want to keep talking. She was on edge, but her fit of sobs had left her feeling tired.
'Rest up,' Daryl said, motioning to the bed they had moved in front of the door. Beth glanced at it, apprehensive.
'I got you.' Daryl said.
. . .
It was dark when Beth opened her eyes. She looked up at the ceiling, the light bulb hanging limply from the cracked plaster ceiling, seeming out of place. It took her foggy brain a little while to figure out where it was, until she sat herself up, stifling a yawn on the sleeve of her sweater. She saw Daryl sat on the floor opposite her, leaning against the wall, crossbow in his lap.
'Mornin',' he said gruffly.
'Is it?' Beth asked, confused.
'Nah,' he shook his head and yawned himself, 'S'night.'
Beth looked around the room, taking in the darkness which had covered it since her falling asleep.
Are we safe? She wanted to ask again, but she just nodded instead.
'Are they still out there?' she whispered.
'Yeah,' Daryl sighed, 'bu' they filterin' out.'
'So we're stuck here?' Beth asked, crawling up the bed to the end of it, then leaning against the rail to look down over it at the man on the floor.
''Til daylight, yeah,' he grunted.
Beth's stomach flipped at that, but she wasn't sure why. They were safe enough, the house was cleared, the horde was passing through and hopefully drawing out any lurking walkers to follow them, they hadn't attracted any attention yet, so there was no reason why they would now. All they had to do was stick it out for a few more hours.
I bet my Daddy is worried... Maggie is probably going mad she thought to herself. She sighed audibly, causing Daryl to look up at her again. He didn't say anything. Beth surveyed the room again, attempting to take her mind off of the messed up situation she found herself in. It was relatively bare, aside from the few articles of clothing that had fallen to the floor from the built in cupboard, who's doors hung open. The shelves had collected dust and a lamp lay on its side on the floor by the bed. Beth did not know whether they had knocked it over in the moving of the furniture or whether it had always been like that. Her eyes drifted to a photo frame which lay face down on the dust ridden carpet, tiny shards of glass sprinkled out from it. She pulled herself off of the bed and wandered over to it, picking it up.
'Do you think this was the home owner?' she whispered, looking down at the face of a smiling woman, holding a small cat level to her face, smiling towards the camera.
Daryl didn't offer his opinion.
'I wonder what they did, what happened to them. I wonder if...' her mind had turned to the three walkers Daryl had killed when they had first entered the house. She shuddered, and her hand slipped.
'Ow!' she gasped, dropping the frame from her hand as a sharp shard buried its way into her palm.
'Shush,' Daryl warned, but he jumped up and came over to her.
He took her small hand in his own larger, much dirtier ones, opening up her fist to see the small droplets of crimson that were beginning to pool in her palm. He looked at it for a moment, then with a sudden movement, pulled out the shard of glass that was still embedded in the flesh.
'Ow!' Beth gasped again, yanking her hand away from him.
'Don' touch nothin',' he said, his voice deep and dark.
Beth pouted.
She turned away from him and sat back down on the bed, heavily, pressing her hand to her mouth to stem the blood with her tongue.
'Knew you should'n'a come,' Daryl growled.
Beth looked up at him from where she sat, her chest feeling heavy.
'Sorry,' she murmured.
Daryl sighed and ran a hand down his face, rubbing at his eyes.
'Nah, he shook his head, 'not y'fault.'
Beth chewed on the inside of her lip, looking down at her ripped jeans.
'Go back t'sleep,' Daryl whispered, returning to the wall he had been sitting against.
Beth looked over at him.
'Will you lay with me?' She chanced, her voice as quiet as she could make it without whispering.
Daryl looked at her, his eyes narrowing. She could see him swallow, could see him ball his hands into fists. He shook his head.
'Please,' Beth whispered, 'I don't feel safe.'
'I'll watch ya,' he said gruffly, his eyes not making contact with hers.
'Just lay. Lay beside me,' Beth said, 'I'll feel safer.'
Daryl wanted to argue, to tell her him laying beside her would not make her any safer in the slightest. But he figured she didn't really care for logistics. She was young and mentally exhausted, it had been her first run and it hadn't gone smoothly. She was scared, and despite his best efforts, Daryl felt sorry for her. He sighed, then nodded. Beth offered him a tentative smile, then lay back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Daryl walked over to her, placing the crossbow gently onto the floor beside the bed. His body groaned along with the mattress as he lay himself down beside her, careful not to make contact. He folded one arm behind his head, the other resting idly across his chest. He could feel her breathing softly beside him, and he began to think she had fallen back to sleep.
'How did you learn to ride a motorcycle?' Beth's soft voice permeated the air around them, almost making Daryl jump.
'Hm, m'brother,' he murmured.
'How'd he learn?' Beth asked.
'Dunno,' Daryl sighed softly. He stayed silent for a while, pensive. 'Learned pretty much all I kno' from m'brother.'
'What was he like? Your brother?' Daryl felt the bed move as Beth adjusted her weight beside him.
'Jackass,' Daryl grunted, 'tough son o' a bitch though.'
'Do you think he's still alive, somewhere?' Beth asked softly.
Daryl sighed, thinking.
'Yeh,' he said, 'he's out ther' a'right. He aint gon' go down without a fight.'
'Well, if he's anything like you then he's fine.' Beth smiled.
Daryl turned his head to glance at her.
'He's better,' he grunted.
'Not possible,' Beth said, 'you're the best.'
Daryl scoffed out an imitation of a laugh.
'You've kept me safe,' she said.
He looked at her, and smiled. It was the same smile that had sent so many strange feelings coursing through her before. She suddenly felt the overwhelming desire to reach out and touch his lips.
'Y'can hold your own,' he said, turning his head back to look at the ceiling.
Beth chuckled softly, aware of her heart beating away in her chest.
'Mm, soon I wont need you at all Mr Dixon,' she teased. She saw him smile up at the ceiling.
. . .
Whilst Beth caught a few more hours of sleep, Daryl stayed awake. He stayed on the bed beside the young girl, keeping her the company she deemed necessary for her safety, though he kept an ear on the sounds of the street outside, listening as the horde shuffled their way through the town. It had been a tense couple of hours, but it sounded like they were really leaving – himself and Beth could return to the prison in daylight in relative safety.
The sound of Beth's soft breathing was comforting to him in a weird way. He wasn't used to company, especially in such close proximity, but there was something soothing about the softness of her breath. It punctuated the sounds of the groans of the dead outside. The warmth which radiated from her was a welcome contrast to the coldness of the shambling corpses outside.
The sun had risen when Beth gently blinked her eyes open. She first noticed that Daryl was still beside her. He was laying with both arms behind his head, his legs crossed at the ankles.
'You're getting mud on the covers,' she said.
'Hm?' Daryl turned to look at her, his eyes red.
'Your boots,' she smiled, sitting up and pushing the strands of hair that had escaped from her ponytail.
'So're you,' Daryl said, sitting up himself and swinging himself round to put his muddy boots in question on to floor.
'Oh,' Beth said, swinging her own boots off of the bed.
'We should get going,' Daryl said, picking up his weaponry.
'Is it safe?' Beth asked.
Daryl went over to the window and peered around the blind Beth had drawn hours before. He looked out into the daylight for a while before nodding.
Together, they shoved the furniture clear of the door. Daryl motioned for Beth to stay behind him, and silent. They headed through the house quietly, retuning back downstairs. Daryl stepped over the slain corpses of the three walkers they had encountered the night before, but Beth paused on the stairs to look.
'They aren't the woman from the picture... I don't think.'
'Wha?' Daryl turned to look at her from the front door.
'The photograph upstairs,' she said, 'I don't think any of these are her.'
'Oh,' Daryl said.
. . .
There were a few straggling corpses in the town as the two of them picked their way back towards the wooded area in which they had left the bike. Daryl took care of most of them, but he left Beth to take down two. They stumbled towards her, one rotten hand reaching towards her. She had pulled her knife from her belt and plunged it into their heads, grunting with the effort. She had caught Daryl looking at her with what she thought was pride. She sat behind him on the motorbike on the way home feeling pretty pleased with herself.
That feeling abated once they got back to the prison gates and she caught sight of Maggie heading down towards them, Glen in tow. Her face was dark and flushed; she looked furious.
'Uh I think you're in trouble,' Daryl grunted in front of her.
'If I am, you probably are too,' Beth replied, feeling her heart sink.
Daryl turned to look at her, his eyes boring into hers over his shoulder. Beth thought she could see amusement in them.