i'm always fighting the gravity

Motherfucker, Beth thought, her confusion turning to anger. Talk about all kinds of fucked up. Carol's right – you need some serious counseling, Daryl Dixon.

But a voice in the back of her head quickly reminded her, You're really one to talk, "Rosie Wilson." It's not like he doesn't have a justifiable reason to be pissed when you get down to it...

She shut the bedroom door tightly and plopped down on the bed, grabbing her phone. She saw Clem's text from earlier and briefly contemplated texting her back and venting about Daryl. But that idea was thrown out as soon as it came. She wanted to keep the building guilt at bay, but it was forcibly pushing its way into her head and she wasn't sure what method to take in order to cope. But she knew that gossiping wasn't the right one.

She checked the news sites just for the sake of worrying about something else – the real problems she had in her life. As she scrolled through the various headlines and searched for any news about her family or her wanted status, her anger and frustration with Daryl subsided and she was reminded of the gravity of her situation. Beth silently scolded herself for allowing things to get this far with Daryl, and letting herself get wrapped up in them so wildly.

Daryl was convinced that the previous night hadn't been an act of desperation or loneliness on his part… but could she say the same? At the time, "we'll figure it out later" had been more than enough to suffice for both of them. But things often changed drastically in the light of day. The darkness of the bedroom with only slivers of light coming from the nightlight had made everything seem so much more simple.

The apartment felt unsettlingly silent. Beth scrolled through every news site she could find for over an hour before she got sick of staring at a screen and set her phone aside. An anxious ball of stress had formed in her stomach and she curled up beneath the comforter in the dark bedroom, shutting her eyes. As much as she tried not to, she was imagining Daryl's warm body beside her, and his arm around her. She yearned to drift off into unconsciousness as effortlessly as she had the night before.

The minutes ticked by into hours, and Beth lay awake beneath the comforter, drifting off for a few minutes at a time but unable to grasp any actual sleep. Her body felt exhausted for no particular reason and a slight pang that resembled menstrual cramps came and went. She assured herself it was another sign that her period was on its way, and that it would be more than making up for its late arrival.

It was nearly dawn by the time Beth managed to drift off and stay asleep. Once she did, though, she went into a deep sleep and nothing disturbed her, not even her own body, for a solid eight hours.

Just like the day before, her body woke up before her brain did. She opened her eyes to find that she was in the exact same position she'd fallen asleep in, and her muscles felt stiff and sore because of it. She stretched out carefully and winced in pain as her muscles responded, and then the waves of nausea began.

After a rushed trip to the bathroom and the reappearance of at least half her dinner, Beth washed her face and brushed her teeth. She felt groggy and unsteady, but made her way to the kitchen anyway. She opened the fridge to grab a bottled water and maybe some ginger ale, and when she turned around, she found a brand new Holy Bible sitting on the counter with a small sticky note attached to the front.

She rubbed her eyes and tried to clear her vision enough to properly read the familiar, scratchy handwriting:

For you.
-D

Beth carefully peeled the note from the cover and held the thick, heavy book in her hands. It was a brand new King James Version with a built-in, cloth bookmark and a sturdy, leather cover. When she opened the front and peered inside the cover, she found a tiny inscription in the bottom corner, in the same handwriting from the sticky note. It simply said, "From Daryl."

Guilt tugged at the bottom of Beth's heart and threatened to pull it down to her stomach. She swallowed past a knot in her throat and closed the book again, then carried it carefully to her bedroom. She set it down on the bedside table and stared at her phone, arguing internally with herself about whether to text Daryl or not.

But he hadn't said sorry. And maybe he didn't owe her an apology, but she still felt that his reaction was unnecessary. Even if another part of her didn't exactly agree.

Then again, she didn't understand his reasoning for exploding and maybe that was part of the problem. He knew more about her imaginary ex than she knew about his real one, and she had a feeling that was part of the root of it all. But none of that was any of her business and she wasn't about to try to pry it out of him. If he wanted to talk about it, he probably would've opened up to Carol by now… wouldn't he have?

Clutching her bottle of water in her hands, Beth wandered out into the hall and down to Daryl's bedroom door. It was left partially open and she peeked her head inside to glance around. Malachi's daily toy display was set up on the floor, as usual, and both boys' beds were made neatly. But when she looked to Daryl's bedside table, she saw that the photo atop it was still sitting face-down.

Had Daryl not noticed or bothered to fix it? Or was Beth finding herself caught in the wake of his survivor's guilt?

At this point, she felt that she didn't even have the energy to worry about it. With a sigh, she turned around and walked away from the bedroom door.

I shouldn't even be in there, she thought. He made it pretty clear. I overstepped, and now it's freaking him out… What if I have to leave? Where will I go? Back to Craigslist in search of another roommate who doesn't watch the news? Off to another state?

Beth reached her bed and set the water down on the nightstand before flopping herself down. She shut her eyes and tried to push all the anxiety aside, even though she knew she'd have to face it sooner or later.

She drifted in and out of sleep for a few hours before the nausea settled and she started to gain an appetite again. After lying awake and finding her mind wandering back to the nonsense with Daryl, she decided to get up and make herself something to eat.

After opening the window and letting in some of the fresh, damp air from outside, as well as the sounds of the city, Beth went into the kitchen and cooked herself a couple of scrambled eggs and some toast. She was craving coffee and caffeine, and when she checked the coffee pot for the first time all day, she found that Daryl had left her half a pot. It was cold by now, but as she poured it down the drain, she wondered why he continued doing thoughtful things for her even after he'd blown up. She was so sure he was beyond angry at her that the new Bible was a shock, but the coffee was another surprise.

With her plate of eggs and toast and a fresh cup of coffee, Beth sat down at the small table and prepared to eat. She took a sip of coffee and nearly sighed aloud in relief. Her stomach would probably disagree later, but for now, she was thoroughly enjoying it. As she nibbled on the toast and took a small bite of eggs, she listened to the faint sounds of car horns and distant sirens drifting in from the open window. The sky outside was mostly blue and sunny with only some broken clouds remaining, and the autumn-like temperatures seemed to have brought more people out of their homes.

She silently wondered what Daryl was doing at the moment, and she'd contemplated sending him a text message more than once. Instead, she got up in the middle of eating and went straight to her bedroom, where she retrieved the new Bible and brought it back to the table with her. She propped it open to where she'd left off in Daryl's Bible and began reading while she slowly finished her eggs, toast, and coffee.

For a while, she sat at the table and read over some of her old favorite verses and stories while sipping coffee and letting the city noise play in the background. She absent-mindedly fiddled with the cross and ring hanging round her neck, forgetting about Daryl and her wanted status and the pending court cases.

Once again, she could hear her daddy's voice echoing in her head like a remnant of the past. She could remember the feeling she had when her momma or daddy would read these old Bible stories to her before bed, or when her daddy would preach these passages in Sunday school. These words were the only thing that brought that long-forgotten sense of unconditional love and safety back to her anymore.

Although, admittedly, she'd felt something that had rivaled it when she was lying in bed beside Daryl.

It was almost Thanksgiving. Beth could remember because the leaves on all the trees outside were multi-colored, there was that slight chill in the air, and she could vividly remember pushing open the back door of the farmhouse and putting her hand against the large cartoon turkey that was stuck directly to the middle of the door. Her momma always went all-out with the directions, no matter the holiday. Within the next month and a half, every ceiling on the first floor of the farmhouse would have a dozen or more paper snowflakes hanging from it.

At the moment, her momma wasn't home. She'd gone to town for a few last-minute groceries she needed to make dinner, and Beth had come downstairs after spending the last few hours upstairs, doing homework. The seventeen-year-old blonde wandered through the large farmhouse, looking for any signs of her daddy, her brother, or her sister. But she couldn't even seem to find her brother-in-law, let alone anyone else.

The house was weirdly quiet for the middle of the day, and even though Beth knew her momma would probably be back soon, she couldn't resist wandering out back and checking around. And sure enough, as soon as she stepped off the porch, she could hear the faint and familiar sounds of her daddy's voice drifting over from the barn – and she was pretty sure she could hear Glenn and Shawn, too.

Beth walked a little faster, pulling the white cardigan tighter around herself against the chill of the light wind. She headed for the barn in the distance, spotting light coming from beneath the large door as she got closer. The voices got louder, and when she was a few feet away from the door, a loud yell echoed out from inside and she jumped, halting where she stood.

Whoever had been yelling sounded like a man, and he sounded like he was in pain. He was quickly hushed and she heard her daddy's and sister's voices again. She approached the door quietly and carefully, then peered in through the thin space in the large door.

The inside of the barn was lit with one of Hershel's lamps that he used for veterinary purposes, and its bright bulb was focused on a makeshift table in the middle of the hay-covered floor. A small tray table with veterinary equipment and a few other medical supplies was set up right next to it. On the table was a black man with his pants pulled down to his ankles and one of his legs laid out in the spotlight of the lamp.

And crowding around him was Hershel, Maggie, Glenn, and Shawn – Glenn was bent over the man's leg, a tool in his hand as he squinted down at the thigh in concentration. Hershel was standing right next to him, peering down and watching carefully with pursed lips. Shawn was standing on the other side of him, watching just as closely, and Maggie was standing by and holding the black man's hand while she dabbed at the sweat that was dripping down his face.

When Hershel finally moved his head downwards to inspect Glenn's work more closely, Beth caught a full view of the black man's face – and she recognized him. It was T-Dog, a man no older than thirty who'd been attending her daddy's church for years with his mother and aunt. Beth hadn't known for sure, but from what she'd observed, she had assumed her daddy started employing T-Dog in the family business about a year ago. She usually only saw him as he drove up in a dark SUV every Friday morning, or at church every Sunday with his mother and aunt. But every once in a while, he would join the Greene's for breakfast or come over and have Sunday dinner. He was always kind and always a gentleman to everyone on the Greene Farm, even when he'd appeared to be struggling with personal issues and had come to Hershel for advice or help.

Beth had never seen him like this, though.

His face was scrunched up in pain and he was sweating profusely, even despite Maggie's efforts to keep a cool rag on his head. When Glenn finally moved his hand aside to grab a different instrument from the tray table, Beth saw what he was working on: a dark, red hole in T-Dog's leg was bleeding, and there was a glint of metal that caught the light somewhere within the flesh. When Glenn returned his hands to the wound, he began digging into the bleeding hole with a thin scalpel, his movements careful and precise. Beth winced in empathy; the wound was in a meaty and tender part of T-Dog's thigh, and she knew it had to hurt like a bitch.

"That's right," Hershel was coaching Glenn, eyes focused on his work. "You're loosening it up nicely, just a few more an' we can start to pull – "

Beth jumped when T-Dog cried out in pain again. "AGGHH! Fuck!"

Glenn jerked his hand back and Hershel snapped, "No! Are you trying to make him bleed out?! Careful, boy!"

Glenn nodded, and Beth didn't have to see his face to know the look of fear in his eyes right now.

Shawn was watching with pursed lips, leaning in closely to inspect.

"See that, Shawn?" Hershel was instructing him as well, attempting to teach two men at once.

"Man – go easy on me. I might need a breather," T-Dog said, his voice coming out exhausted.

"You're doin' great," Maggie assured him, giving his hand another squeeze. "It's like rippin' off a bandage – we just gotta get past this part, then it's smooth sailing."

Hershel was still watching Glenn carefully, but he leaned back slightly and muttered, "Maybe for now, but there ain't nothin' about this that means smooth sailing."

"Daddy, we can talk about it later," Maggie said, lowering her voice and leaning closer to Hershel. "We all know what this means – but we gotta take it one thing at a time."

Hershel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, and Glenn was slowly and carefully working on the wound with his tool.

Beth leaned in closer to the door, her nose touching the cold wood as she strained her ears to hear every word her daddy was saying.

"I already know this was the Governor's people tryin' to warn us," Hershel muttered, his low tone heavy with dread. "I was afraid a this, but I didn't think – "

"Daddy, stop," Maggie said, keeping her voice low as she spoke directly to her father. "We don't know anythin' yet. This was bound ta happen eventually – they're meth heads."

"People that shot me," T-Dog's voice broke into their conversation, and he spoke while intermittently clenching his teeth from the pain. "That wasn't no tweakers. I've seen tweakers holdin' guns – they was sober. Whoever it was. I could tell."

"This isn't good, Maggie," Hershel said after taking T-Dog's statement into consideration. His voice was low and overwrought as he leaned towards his oldest daughter, "I promised this boy's momma that he'd be safe workin' for me – and now I can't even stop my own people from gettin' shot… It's going too far. I can't… this can't be the life we were workin' towards. It was never supposed t'be this risky – I was never supposed to be teaching my sons how to extract bullets."

Maggie opened her mouth to say something in return, her face showing a hint of defiance. Beth moved her foot a few inches forward to get herself closer to the door, not wanting to miss a word. But the bottom of her shoe slipped on a damp part of the earth in front of the barn door and she stumbled forward.

She caught herself, putting her hands out against the heavy, wooden door. But not without making a racket. The wood rattled and the door shook, and when Beth regained her balance and looked through the space again, she saw that all their heads had turned to look in her direction.

'Shit,' she thought.

She quickly turned around and made to fast-walk back to the house, but before she could get more than two steps away, the large barn door was opening just wide enough for Maggie to step out.

"Beth."

Beth stopped and turned around, shoulders slouching. She finally met Maggie's eyes and saw the stern look on her face.

"I didn't – "

Before Beth could begin her apology, or excuse, her daddy appeared behind Maggie and stepped out in front of her. If Maggie's face was stern, her daddy's was livid.

"Beth, what have I told you about this," Hershel started, and his deep voice sent a fear straight down to the pit of Beth's stomach. "You know this is no place for a little girl. How many times does your momma have to punish you for eavesdropping?"

"Daddy, I – I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, I just – is T-Dog…?"

"Don't worry about it," Maggie interrupted, lifting an eyebrow. "T-Dog is fine, and you're not gonna mention a word of this to anybody at church. We have it taken care of – okay?"

Beth nodded, shutting her mouth tightly and swallowing hard.

"Where's Mom?" Maggie asked, looking at Hershel.

"She went to the store for a bit – I didn't think I'd have to worry," Hershel replied, keeping his eyes locked on Beth the whole time.

She felt the guilt embedding itself in her skin. She looked down to avoid her daddy's disappointed gaze.

Maggie turned back to Beth and said, "You'd better get back inside before she comes home. You already got triple dishes duty all week."

Beth raised her head and looked to her sister, "But – "

Maggie silenced her with a firm look, then said, "Get. We can talk later tonight."

Beth could do nothing more than nod and turn tail to rush back inside and upstairs. She didn't leave her bedroom for the rest of the day, except to come downstairs for dinner and her dishes duty.

Beth's eyes grew tired from reading the small print in the Bible after a couple of hours, and she carefully placed the bookmark between the pages and closed it, then placed it on her bedside table. She checked her phone to find no new texts, reminding herself to text Clem back eventually. The text Clem had sent yesterday had been nothing more than a "what's up" text. Beth assumed she was just checking in or looking for someone to talk to out of boredom. She wanted to reply – in fact, she wanted to send Clementine a multi-page text telling her about Daryl and asking her if he was really an enigma or if it was just Beth being damaged.

But she knew better than that.

Beth sat down on the bed and scrolled through the national news, and then the Georgia and Atlanta news sites. But it seemed the entire country was focused on remembrance stories about 9/11 or gossip about the current administration. In the back of her head, she was dreading the next day because it would be her family's arraignments, and that would mean a news update for sure. But for now, it seemed, she didn't have to worry.

As the afternoon faded into evening, Beth ended up snacking on a handful of the gingersnaps from Carol in between strumming on her guitar. She plucked the strings and played random chords, bursting out with a song or two when they would come to mind. Using one of the picks that Daryl had bought for her.

She wasn't making any particular music, but the sound was soothing to her ears, just like the Bible's words had been soothing to her soul. She ended up getting so wrapped up in the guitar, sitting against the wall on her bed with the guitar in her lap, that she didn't notice how late it had gotten.

The sound of the front door unlocking and opening didn't reach her ears over the guitar, but Malachi's voice rang through the apartment with high energy. Beth stopped strumming and glanced at the clock to see that it was after six, then she glanced over to see a small, blond blur approaching the partially open bedroom door.

She was still sitting against the wall with the guitar in her lap when Malachi raced into the room, stopping and staring at Beth with wide eyes. His face broke into a grin when he recognized the guitar.

"You play guh-tar?!" He asked loudly, excitement evident in his voice.

Beth couldn't help but smile as she nodded and replied cheerfully, "Yep, and piano!"

Malachi was studying the guitar, eyes still wide. "Wow! D-do you – do you, um – d'you know 'Fwee Bird'?"

Beth laughed and nodded. "Yeah, of course. Did your dad tell you to ask me that?"

As if on cue, Daryl appeared in the doorway, still wearing his dirty work clothes and socks while his boots sat by the door. He glanced at Beth but didn't make eye contact, looking to Malachi instead and smirking proudly.

"Taught him that one the first time he saw a guitar," Daryl said. "Boy loves Skynyrd."

Beth continued smiling and looked to Daryl, who was still watching Malachi. "Well he's definitely your kid."

Daryl grunted a half-chuckle. "Yeah. Fer a few months there, when he was a baby, he wouldn't fall asleep unless we had some Hank Williams, Jr. playin' for him."

He finally glanced at Beth for a second but she felt the tension between them almost immediately and diverted her eyes back to the toddler standing in the middle of her room. Daryl seemed to pick up on it and turned his body toward the hall.

"C'mon, kid, let's get cleaned up an' get some dinner," he announced, and Malachi turned to his dad.

Malachi moved toward the door but stopped, arguing, "But, Dad, Rosie's gonna play – "

"Hey, don't argue," Daryl interrupted. "Rosie's in her room, havin' time to herself. Did you ask if you could come in here?"

Malachi shook his head and looked down in guilt. "No…"

Beth was about to speak up and assure Daryl it was okay, but she stopped herself. He was the parent, after all, and she had no right to intervene. But she couldn't help how he was reminding her of Hershel and his strict, no-nonsense attitude when it had come to being a father.

"Maybe if ya ask her nicely, she'll play somethin' for ya after we eat," Daryl said more softly, and Beth looked at him in surprise, then watched the toddler's face light up with excitement.

Malachi turned back to Beth with a giddy smile and asked, "Oh – can – can you, um – oh, my… Can you – can we do the guh-tar um, after – after dinner?!"

Beth held back a laugh and nodded, "That sounds great – but you have t'be good for your dad, and do everything he asks you tonight. Deal?"

Malachi's grin grew larger, if that was possible, and he nodded eagerly. "Oh, yes! Yes! Okay!"

Beth could hear Daryl give a quiet chuckle as Malachi rushed to join him in the hall, then both boys headed to the bathroom and bedroom to get ready for dinner.

She took her time crawling off the bed and returning the guitar to its spot in the corner. Her fingers were sore from playing, but her stomach was beginning to rumble with hunger. Just as she turned around to head toward the door again, she saw that Daryl had backtracked from down the hall and was standing in the doorway again, hand in his pocket.

"Oh – hey," she said, a bit startled at his reappearance when she hadn't expected it. She was beginning to realize he moved almost silently most of the time.

"Hey, almos' forgot," he started, speaking more quietly than usual.

Daryl pulled his hand from the pocket of his jacket to reveal a small box wrapped in a plastic grocery store bag. He held it out for Beth to take and she did so hesitantly, studying the object and trying to figure out what it was.

"What's this?" She asked, carefully unwrapping the bag from around the box and pulling it out. The corner of the packaging read: Emergency Contraceptive.

"Uh, Plan B," he replied, gesturing to the small, white box that Beth was now holding in her hand. "Just thought, if ya wanted. I know ya said yer on the pill, but… Like uh, jus' an extra – uh, precaution. 'Sposed ta work within seventy-two hours after…"

His voice trailed off but Beth already understood what he meant. And she knew how Plan B worked, but now that it was in her hands, she was asking herself why Daryl had thought to take this precaution before she had.

She hadn't even skipped a beat when she'd lied about being on birth control.

Why…? She thought.

"Oh – um, thank you," Beth stammered, cheeks heating up. She cleared her throat and looked up to meet Daryl's eyes, which were watching her anxiously. "And… thanks for the Bible, too. I'm sorry about that. Really. You were right, I – I shoulda thought about how I was oversteppin'…"

She watched him purse his lips and look down at his socks instead. He nodded.

She started again, "I can pay you back fer this – "

But he lifted his head and stopped her, "Nah, it's pretty cheap. An' I ain't sayin' ya gotta take it, jus' wanted… ta give ya that option."

Beth nodded but Daryl wouldn't look into her eyes for more than a couple of seconds at a time. "Well, thank you…"

He cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then finally looked directly at her and said, "Makin' grilled chicken fer dinner. Think the kid's pretty set on havin' ya join us – if yer feelin' up to it."

She smiled sheepishly and nodded. "'Course I am."

She saw a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, but he quickly turned his head and began heading back toward the bathroom and the sound of Malachi's voice while muttering, "Alright – sounds good."

After Daryl disappeared into the bathroom, Beth retreated back to her bedroom and shut the door. She sat down on the bed and listened to the faint sounds of Malachi and Daryl washing up in the bathroom while she stared down at the plastic, white box in her hands. She tossed the bag it had come from into the trash and read through the instructions, warnings, and ingredients on the back.

Daryl had gotten a generic brand called Take Action, but the designs and colors were easily recognizable and even though Beth had never needed to use one of these before, she had seen them and handled them, and she was well aware of their uses and side effects. She'd had a couple of classmates in school who'd had to take them. And Maggie had even offered to buy some for Beth if she ever needed it – without telling Momma or Daddy, of course.

But now that she had it in her hands and was staring down at it, knowing that it was meant for her, she knew she couldn't take it. One of the very first warnings in bold print on the back of the package stated: "Do not take if you are pregnant or think you might be pregnant."

Beth felt a small twinge in her abdomen – another of the phantom menstrual pains that kept haunting her and teasing her. The back of her throat was beginning to burn, and she only realized her eyes were filling with tears when her vision began to get blurry.

August… eleventh, she thought. Fuck… and now it's September eleventh and… when was my last period? What day was that? It feels like forever ago… was it a couple weeks before? Or…

She closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to recall anything that had happened before the night she started running. It was all so blurry and emotionally exhausting, the entire month felt like one long week. She couldn't remember having her period since… any of that. Not since August Eleventh, that's for sure. And the last time before that had been…

July…? She thought. Shit, July, really? Maybe… towards the end? I remember Jimmy not wanting to hang out with me, and then… it was like, a week… maybe? Was it? …And then… August Eleventh. And no period… No. Fucking. Period.

She opened her eyes and stared straight ahead at the wall across the room, but she wasn't looking at anything. Her face was filled with dread and she could feel the pit of her stomach dropping downward. A knot had formed in her throat and she was gripping the plastic box in her hand so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

How am I supposed to deal with this? She asked herself. No ID, on the run, no family… This can't… possibly be real… not this one. Please not this one.

But in the back of her head, she knew the truth, and she'd known it for a little while. Her lies were coming so easily these days that now, she couldn't even stop from lying to herself. Which is what she'd been doing for at least the last week. There was no part of her that truly believed it was the stress alone causing her to vomit every morning.

No, I don't know it yet. Not for sure, she told herself, trying to stop her breathing from becoming erratic. I can get a test, I can find out – it could just be late. Really late... This could all be from stress. I can't just assume – I need to get a test... I still have twenty-four hours before this pill becomes ineffective. I'll just get a test tomorrow, while the boys are gone, and I'll take it, and then I'll be sure and I can take this and be extra sure that I won't ever have to deal with… that.

Beth kept repeating these steps in her head for a few minutes, staring down at the box in her hand and listening to the thumping of her heart in her chest. There was still plenty of panic left inside her, but for now, she was calming herself with a plan of action. She focused on being as optimistic as possible – this wasn't the first late period she'd ever had, after all.

…But it's the first time I've ever had morning sickness, she thought, and swallowed hard against the burning sensation in her throat.

to be continued…

A/N: Next chapter will be posted in just a few days, like this one was, since this chapter and last were so short. Next chapter is also longer. They were originally written as a whole and I split it into two due to length
There are still plenty more flashbacks to come. And I think T-Dog deserves more love from the fandom.
As for the pregnancy thing... this will NOT be your typical unplanned pregnancy fic in ANY sense of the word, so if you're hoping Daryl will raise Beth's rape baby, this ain't the story for you. Also, I've had more people telling me they love Malachi, which makes me super happy, so I'm trying to include him a little more. Anyway, let me know what you think (even if you hate it!) and get yourselves prepared for next chapter! ;)