my legs are dangling off the edge

Daryl got up and gathered his clothes and phone together, then he left Beth with another long kiss before promising to see her that night. He offered to leave her some coffee or make a quick breakfast, but she declined. She was exhausted all over again and wanted nothing more than to roll over and go back to sleep. Especially when, in the back of her head, she was dreading what the news would report about her family's court case. But even worse than the news, she dreaded having to get up and go out to the store later – and she didn't even want to begin thinking about what came after that.

Daryl had shut her bedroom door when he left and she listened to the faint sounds of him and Malachi getting up and around for the day. She was thankful the toddler hadn't woken up and wandered into her bedroom in the middle of the night in search of his dad. It began to make her wonder if what they were doing was actually okay… Surely it wouldn't feel this precarious if it were.

She rolled over and faced the wall, clutching the comforter tight around her shoulders while her eyes remained shut and she urged her brain to shut up. Her body was so tired, and she was drained in nearly every sense of the word. Plus, she felt exhausted just thinking about getting up later, bathing, dressing, and wandering out in public – alone, for the first time in a while. Yet she couldn't drift back off, and the bed suddenly felt oddly empty.

It was mind boggling to her, in a way. When she lay still and really thought about it: about where she was and who she had just shared the most intimate parts of herself with. And then, about what she'd left behind in Georgia, where her family was sitting right now… She didn't think about that last half when Daryl was next to her, or kissing her, or inside of her. Only when she was alone, or when she caught herself feeling too happy or hopeful.

That was the other bit that boggled her mind: how safe she felt in those moments. The bedrooms had become like islands, and Beth and Daryl had seemed to be shut off in their own little world, away from everyone else and all the bullshit and all the ghosts that haunted them.

You barely even know this guy, that voice of reason reminded her.

But she challenged it, Then why do I feel like I've somehow always known him?

The exhaustion finally overtook her and her mind gave up the battle with itself. And she fell asleep to the sounds of Daryl and Malachi having breakfast in the kitchen, and the smell of brewing coffee. She didn't even hear them leave.

Beth woke up a few hours later feeling much more refreshed. The extra sleep had given her muscles the rest they'd needed after the strenuous exercise Daryl had given them. And to her pleasant surprise, the neausea seemed to be lying dormant today. Her stomach was even rumbling for a real breakfast, and she started thinking that she might make a whole pot of coffee for herself. She probably wouldn't drink it all, but the fact that coffee sounded really good again was an improvement.

For a second, she thought she might skip the pregnancy test altogether. But then the logical side of her remembered that at the very least, it would put her mind at ease. What if it came out negative? There was still a chance she could be wrong about being pregnant.

She had to know, though. And she couldn't push it off any longer.

When she wandered out into the living room and opened the window a crack, she found that the day was bright and sunny, and the autumn chill that had been in the air was undetectable right now. The humidity was no worse than usual, but the warm air that drifted inside felt like summer's lingering goodbye kiss.

She shut the window again and adjusted the thermostat on the wall to lower the temperature in the small apartment. Then she went to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee before making herself a small breakfast that consisted of more than just bread, for a change. The apartment remained silent and settled the whole time, nothing but the sounds of the coffeemaker and her cooking to fill her ears. She was shamelessly daydreaming about the night before – and that morning – with Daryl. A small smile had creeped onto her face without her even realizing it.

She sat at the table with her new Bible, opened to one of her daddy's favorite books, and ate her breakfast in silence while she sipped the hot coffee and read. After finishing everything on her plate, as well as a whole cup of coffee, she remained at the table with her legs tucked beneath her on the chair. She continued to read while gauging her stomach's reaction and anxiously awaiting the arrival of her daily nausea. But she sat and read through an entire page without feeling anything other than satisfied.

Still smiling to herself, Beth gathered up her dishes and took them to the kitchen, where she went about washing all the dirty dishes in the kitchen. When she glanced across the remaining gingersnaps on Carol's plate, she scooped them up and put them in a small Tupperware container that she found in the cabinet, then added Carol's dish to the sink.

Beth didn't think to turn on any music today. Her head was already filled with all kinds of thoughts and daydreams and songs. Despite the further stress she was facing, she couldn't help but to feel like singing. In a way, it reminded her of better times. Or just more blissfully ignorant times. She'd always loved singing with Maggie and her momma in the kitchen while they prepared dinner or cleaned up after a meal. Sometimes, her daddy would stand just outside the back door and listen, thinking no one saw him there. But Beth always noticed him through the window over the sink. And she always saw the big, proud smile on his face.

Sometimes, it made Beth forget that they weren't a normal family.

While she scrubbed and rinsed dishes and set them in the dishrack, her hips swayed in a silent dance and she sang along to the music in her head, loud enough to replace the silence in the small apartment, "It's unclear now what we intend, we're a-alone in our own world… A-and you don't wanna be my boyfriend, an' I don't wanna be your girl… And that… that's a re-e-lief… We'll drink up our grief, and pine for summer…"

It was a song she'd learned to play on both the piano and the guitar years ago. The lyrics were embedded in her memory, and as her voice flowed out smooth and melodically, she continued smiling to herself. Enjoying the peace while it was visiting. She could almost hear the piano playing in her head and feel the ivories beneath her fingers.

Beth finished the dishes and left the kitchen to head to the bathroom, still singing loudly without giving it any thought, repeating the song over and over. She ran herself a warm bubble bath and, while she waited for the tub to fill, poured herself another cup of coffee and sipped it contentedly. But she still didn't stop singing to herself, even as she stripped down and lowered herself into the water to wash away Daryl's lingering smell once again.

"…A-and you will hurt me, or I'll disappear… So we'll drink beer all day, and our guards will give way… and we'll be good… yeah, we'll be goo-ood…"

Admittedly, Beth had avoided checking her phone because she didn't want to see what she knew she'd find. But once she was dressed and had her bag strapped to her back, prepared to leave and head to the nearest store, she knew she had no choice but to check the news.

Her hands began trembling slightly as she tapped the screen and navigated to the national sites. With baited breath, she scrolled through and searched for her name, or any sort of headline that could allude to her family's case. She let out a sigh of relief when she reached the same headlines from yesterday and found no mention of the Greene's. But her hands wouldn't still just yet as she moved on to the Georgia and Atlanta sites.

She hadn't realized she was holding her breath until it was let out and she was relaxing. Her fingers had shakily scrolled through both sites and scoured the headlines. But there were no posted updates on her family's case. At least not yet.

With a silent thanks to God, she pushed her worries about the trial out of her head for the time being and checked her text messages instead. There was a message from Irma that talked about how beautiful the midwest was at this time of the year and that she'd like to hear from "Rosie" to know that she's still doing okay. Beth didn't feel up to sending an optimistic text at the moment, so she made a mental note to reply later.

Her chest was a little lighter a few minutes later as she left the apartment with the bag on her back, her phone and a small wad of cash stuffed into the pockets of her jeans, and the sunglasses on her face. The gun-concealing undershirt was tight against her skin beneath the jacket and loose T-shirt she wore over it, and she wondered if it had shrunk since the last time she wore it. She'd even put in a pair of brown contacts just to be extra cautious. The color was fading from her hair with every wash and she'd made a mental note to pick up some better quality hair color while she was out.

The lobby was empty when Beth walked through it, and she assumed Clem was probably in class. She stepped out into the bright, afternoon sunlight and gripped the straps of her bag, turning and heading down the sidewalk with intent. She kept her head low and sunglasses on, glancing around only briefly to make sure she was going the right way.

She avoided the stores in the immediate vicinity, walking past at least ten different places that most likely sold pregnancy tests. A lot of them were chain retailers and she knew they'd have strict security monitoring. And even though it had been over two weeks without a hint of her story going national, she knew there was no time to start getting comfortable or careless. If Maggie had taught her anything, it was to never let your guard down.

Because that's when they'd catch you – at your most vulnerable.

About eight blocks from the apartment, Beth settled on a corner store that looked fairly quiet. As she approached, she saw only a couple of people entering and leaving. And when she got close enough to see inside the windows, she could see that there were only a handful of customers inside and two employees behind the counter, both of which looked laid-back and distracted.

She entered the small store to find an interior that resembled nearly every other corner store she'd ever stepped foot inside. It was mostly quiet and the small space was cluttered with displays of merchandise and several aisles of products that ranged from automotive care to baby formula to toilet paper and canned goods. As she'd expected, and hoped, the employees behind the counter didn't even glance her way when the bell above the front door jingled at her arrival.

She discreetly searched the store with her eyes while wandering down an aisle and navigating her way to the cosmetics section first, but it looked like the only real cameras were posted at the counter to watch over the two cash registers. The other customers in the aisles appeared to be a few elderly people who most likely lived nearby and a younger couple shopping with a handbasket. None of them so much as glanced in Beth's direction, and as she passed through aisles, she kept her head low and her sunglasses on even though she felt mostly invisible.

The cosmetics section was limited, but there were a few brands of hair color and luckily, the store stocked a color that was even darker than the one she'd already used. She grabbed the box without a glance at the price and began finding her way toward the Family Planning section a couple of aisles away.

There was a small sign that read "Family Planning" above a multi-shelf display of various pregnancy tests, ovulation tests, emergency contraceptives (like the one Daryl had brought home), and condoms. Surprisingly, this small store held several different brands of tests that she'd never even heard of. They all ranged in price from ten dollars to almost fourty. But Beth wasn't even glancing at the price tags. Staring at the names, the pictures, the smiling faces of women who knew they wanted babies… it was starting to make her chest feel tight and heavy.

Without another second of contemplation, she grabbed one box of each different brand of test. By the time she'd made her way to the end of the shelf, there were eleven boxes stuffed between the crook of her arm. She turned to start walking toward the counter, but stopped and turned back to the display. Hesitating, she stepped forward and peered a little closer. Then she reached out and snatched up a small box of condoms to add to the pile in her arms.

On her way up to the register, she passed by a cooler full of drinks and paused. With a glance down at the tests in her arms, she realized she'd need a lot of urine for all of them. So she reached out and grabbed the largest bottle apple juice on the shelf. For some reason, apple juice had always been a drink that would go right through her. Not even two cups of coffee forced her into the bathroom as often as a full glass of apple juice. When Beth was little and her momma was trying to break her of the bad habit of wetting the bed every night, Annette had to forbid her from having juice past four p.m.

There was an old man standing at the counter, taking his sweet time to write the world's longest check just to pay for five frozen dinners. There was only one cashier at the register, and it appeared the other employee had disappeared into the back. Beth shifted her weight from one foot to the other impatiently, staring at the gray back of the old man's head and urging him to write faster. She didn't want to spend another second in this store, especially with a dozen different pregnancy tests in her hands.

Finally, the old man was stepping away from the counter with his bag and Beth was approaching with her haul. She opened her arms and let the boxes pour out onto the countertop, then looked up through the dark sunglasses to see a woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties. Her nametag read: Dottie. And when she looked down and saw what Beth was buying, her eyes widened.

"Uh-oh," Dottie commented, picking up one box at a time to scan it and toss it into a plastic bag. She gave a quizzical look at the box of hair color amongst the other purchases, but scanned it and tossed it into the bag with a brief shrug.

Beth gave a nervous chuckle but didn't say anything, feeling her cheeks growing hot. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the small wad of cash, getting prepared to pay.

"Well, at least you're optimistic," Dottie said quietly, a playful smirk on her face as she discreetly shoved the last box – the condoms – into the plastic bag and stared into Beth's sunglasses.

Beth shrugged and tried her best to sound casual. "Yeah… let's hope it's not for nothing."

Dottie gave Beth her total, and Beth handed over the money. Then she grabbed her change and receipt gratefully, thanked Dottie as she grabbed the plastic bag, and gave a brief wave goodbye before heading out the door.

Her legs couldn't carry her away fast enough.

She was thankful for the black plastic bag she'd been given, keeping her purchases discreet as she fast-walked down the sidewalk with the handles of the bag wrapped tightly around her hand. The sun seemed to shine even brighter than before she'd stepped inside the fluorescent lighting of the corner store. She lowered her head and pushed the sunglasses up on her nose.

Beth only made it a couple blocks away when something caught her eye and she paused, then slowed her pace as she passed a small thrift store. It wasn't terribly different from the one she'd visited recently to acquire a new wardrobe. If anything, it was smaller and dingier. But the thing that had caught her eye was the display of hats in the front window. It was a sale in preparation of the approaching cold temperatures, and one hat in particular stood out to her as it rested atop a head-shaped display.

She'd owned a hat exactly like it back in Georgia. In fact, she could still remember which drawer it was sitting in back on the farm, in her upstairs bedroom. It was a knitted white beanie, and she could almost feel the soft fabric between her fingers again. Even though it was a thrif store, this cap looked brand new. It was still just as bright white as the one sitting in her drawer at home.

Not home… the farm, she reminded herself.

Something inside her pulled her toward the front door of the small shop, and the next thing she knew, she was stepping inside to find a dimly lit thrift store packed with all kinds of secondhand goods. The shop was small but full of shelves, displays, and racks. Beth turned to walk straight to the window display of hats. And there it was: the knitted white cap, staring out at the sidewalk and street outside. She reached out and slipped it off the display, black corner store bag still hanging from her wrist.

It felt just like she'd remembered. She held it between her fingers and ran her thumbs across the knitting, staring down at it with a small smile on her face. It was perfect.

Beth lifted her head and glanced around, realizing she hadn't even thought about the possible cameras that were watching her. But there didn't appear to be any, or at least not any that were visible. Based on the appearance of the store, though, and how empty and quiet it was, she guessed that they probably weren't too concerned with surveillance.

She spotted the counter across the room, a middle-aged man reading a paperback novel sitting behind it, and began walking toward it with the hat in her hands. She weaved her way between displays and boxes and pieces of furniture. The whole store held a strong scent of mothballs, and it was starting to incite that nausea that had been dormant all morning.

But then she passed a rack of shoes that was twice as tall as she was, and standing right behind it was another rack of clothes on hangers. She glanced at it and walked right past, but then she spotted something familiar from the corner of her eye and she stopped. She turned back to the clothing rack and stared at it, focusing on the vest that was facing backwards on the rack to show off its design. If she hadn't taken this particular route to the counter, she wouldn't have seen the vest over here at all.

It was black leather with large, faded, white angel wings embroidered on the back. She squinted and stared harder, racking her brain and asking herself why it looked so familiar and why she felt so weird looking at it right now – almost like a déjà vu sensation. It took a few seconds, but then she remembered the dream. A brief shiver ran through her and she couldn't stop her feet from carrying her forward, until she was reaching out and lifting the hanger from the rack.

She lifted the vest and held it before her, inspecting it closely. It was made of thick leather. It had obviously been worn before, but it was well taken care of. Or it was just durable as hell. It didn't smell like mothballs, though, like the rest of the store did. All Beth could smell was leather and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke.

Looks like something a biker would wear... Or maybe a biker dad, like Daryl. Wonder how it ended up here, she thought.

And then she was thinking about Daryl and the dream again. What kind of an other-worldly coincidence was this supposed to be? Or… sign?

She didn't even give it a second thought. Beth headed straight to the counter and set down the vest and hat, then reached into her pocket for the money. The middle-aged man set down his book, and Beth glanced at it to see a cheesy romance cover featuring a glorious, long-haired Fabio. The man rang her up wordlessly, which she appreciated, and sent her on her way with a paper bag holding the leather vest and knitted cap.

Beth slowed her pace a bit as she got farther from the thrift store, the sun beating down hot on her black leather jacket. She saw people passing by in suits on their lunch breaks, and families sitting outside restaurants to eat in the nice weather. By the time she got back to the apartment building, she was sweating beneath the jacket and more than ready to strip it off. But the trek back had gone by quickly because her head had been muddled the whole time with thoughts of Daryl and the dream and her bag full of pregnancy tests.

As she approached the door to apartment 3A and pulled the key from her pocket, sunglasses resting atop her head, she felt a vibration in her other pocket. She unlocked the door and slipped inside, shutting and locking it behind her. Then she pulled the phone from her pocket to find out what had caused the notification. It was a text message from Daryl.

Weird timing, she thought with a light flutter in her stomach.

She opened the message and read:

How you feeling?

Before she even took her jacket off, she typed out a response, "Great :) you? How's work?" And she pressed Send.

Beth set her phone and bags down on the bar and slipped her jacket off to hang it up, then untied her boots and headed to her bedroom to leave them on the floor and put her sunglasses away. She took off the bag and stuffed it back into the corner of the dresser drawer. Carefully, she removed the contacts and left them in the dish that still sat on her nightstand, blinking rapidly and adjusting her eyes. Then she pulled off her T-shirt, unholstered the Beretta and slipped off the undershirt, and placed the gun carefully inside the bag amongst the wads of cash before closing up the bag and shutting the drawer. She put her T-shirt back on and changed into a soft pair of sweatpants, relieved to have the concealing undershirt off. The gun seemed to feel heavier every time she had to carry it with her.

When she was comfortable and cooled off from the sun outside, she went straight for the black plastic bag on the bar. She dumped it out and grabbed the apple juice, opening it and immediately chugging for a solid fifteen seconds. It helped that she was already thirsty from the walk. Then she went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, forcing herself to chug at least a third of it, as well. Her stomach sloshed with liquid and she swallowed back a minor burning sensation in her throat.

Don't come back out this end, I really need you to come out the correct end this time, she mentally scolded her body.

While she waited for the liquids to work their way to her bladder, Beth took the box of hair color – and the condoms – and put them in a drawer in her bedroom. Then she gathered up all the pregnancy tests and carried them into the bathroom, where she began unwrapping each one from its plastic and opening all the boxes. Some of the boxes contained two tests while others only held one. But every single box held an instructions pamphlet, and she sat perched on the edge of the bathtub while she read through each one and sipped the apple juice.

Her phone vibrated from where it sat next to the sink. She set down the pamphlet in her hand and took another drink of apple juice, then stood up and grabbed her phone to find a new text message from Daryl. She read:

Best day I've had in a while. Thanks for asking. Still planning on dinner?

For a second, she forgot about the pile of pregnancy tests sitting a few feet away, and smiled to herself as she typed out a response and sent it. "Wow, good to hear! Yes, any requests?"

But then she looked up from her phone and saw the tests again and her smile quickly faded. She set the phone back down and chugged apple juice for another ten seconds.

It took about ten minutes, but finally, Beth had the urge to pee. She tried to follow the instructions from the pamphlet as closely as possible while she did the first test, carefully capping it and placing it flat on the bathroom counter. She avoided looking at it the entire time, assuring herself the results wouldn't be accurate until the three-minute wait was over.

She stared at the timer on her phone as she waited, heart beating a little faster. She kept telling herself it would be okay, that the test would come out negative – and so would the next few – and then she'd be able to toss all the others and relax again. Or at least, relax as much as was possible while she continued living as a wanted fugitive in hiding.

There was only thirty seconds left when another text from Daryl arrived. Beth was grateful for the distraction and quickly opened the messaged to read:

Surpise me. Gotta get back to work so I can finish this job before I get off. See you tonight.

She reread the message twice and smiled to herself, a small flutter in her stomach. But then she saw that the three minutes was up and her heart sped up again. She swallowed hard and tried to slow her pulse while she reached over and picked up the white plastic stick. She refused to look at the result window until she was holding it directly in front of her.

The blue lines matched perfectly to the result that said "pregnant."

Fuck, Beth thought. No, no way. Next one. False positives happen all the time.

All thoughts of Daryl or his texts or her family's court case immediately fled her mind. She chugged more apple juice and moved on to the next test. Her bladder was starting to fill faster and she knew the juice was starting to do its job. It didn't take long before she was peeing onto another stick, capping it, and setting it down flat to wait for three minutes.

And when the three minutes was up… positive.

Okay, different brand, she thought, grabbing another box and glancing at the pamphlet. This one had a foolproof digital screen that read "pregnant" or "not pregnant."

Another stream of urine, another three minutes, and another long chug of apple juice. The bottle was nearly empty now. She grabbed the test and kept her eyes shut until it was right in front of her.

Please, please, please give me the Not, she prayed.

Beth opened her eyes and gazed down hesitantly to see: Pregnant.

She thought her heart might burst in her chest. Her breaths were coming shorter and a pounding headache was forming in the left side of her head. She was about a second away from full-on panic mode.

With shaky hands and a bladder that continuously needed to be emptied, Beth proceeded to pee on every single test she'd purchased. She went from the cheap, generic brands to the expensive, well-known ones, but kept getting the same result. The bathroom counter was full of positive pregnancy tests. The bottle of apple juice sat empty among them.

The very last test was a particularly expensive one, though it was for good reason because it not only displayed a very clear "pregnant" or "not pregnant" digital response, but it also gave a rough estimate of how far along the pregnancy was. Beth had hoped she would be able to throw it out without ever having to use it, but it had become pretty clear that wasn't going to be an option today. So she opened the package and read the instructions carefully, even though they were basically the same as the ten other tests she'd just taken. She was grateful for the curved handle on this one because her wrist was beginning to cramp up from holding sticks at odd angles for five second intervals.

The final test sat on the edge of the counter, and once again, Beth avoided looking at it while she watched the time pass on her phone instead. Her mind was racing with all the possible solutions to this problem. Mostly, she was freaking out about the fact that she'd have to find a way to get to a doctor. No matter what she decided, that would be step one. And how the hell was she supposed to do that while she was on the run from the police and awaiting her new identification so she could flee the country?

She took a deep breath and steadied her trembling hands.

You're a Greene. Now act like one, she reminded herself. She could almost hear Maggie's voice in her head.

But what would Maggie say right now? Beth had a feeling it'd be a little more than "toughen up."

Full of dread, she picked up the plastic stick and held it in both hands before her. She stared down at the result window, and even though she immediately understood what it said, she didn't really register it for another thirty seconds. She just sat there and stared down blankly at the test, mouth agape and heart racing.

The window read: "Pregnant." And right below that, it read: "3-5 Weeks."

The only thing she could think was, This can't be happening. I can't do this. I can't keep it. There's no fucking way.

And no matter how many times she blinked or rubbed her eyes or squinted or shook the stick vigorously in her hand, tapping the tiny screen… the result didn't change. It was still there, right in front of her face. As well as all over the countertop.

It was all around her. Even now, as the bile rose in her throat and the last of the apple juice found an even quicker escape from her body.

to be continued…

A/N: So we've finally confirmed that Beth is pregnant. Now to deal with it :) Hope y'all liked this. As always, big shoutout to GracieMae11 and arrowsandangels, as well as all my other regular readers and reviewers. If you don't feel like commenting, just leave a review and let me know that you're reading and/or enjoying so far! Next update will be in a few short days :D But don't worry, we haven't seen the last of fluffy Beth and Daryl ;)