Disclaimer: A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.
Thank you Nicole for being amazing as always and editing this for me!
…
It had been nearly a week since she and Morgan had arrived at Alexandria. Beth wasn't used to being around so many people at once and when she began feeling too overwhelmed, she would venture, or rather sneak, outside the walls into the warm embrace of the woods. Morgan had worried the first few times she'd disappeared, but she always returned unharmed and that seemed to be enough for him not to reprimand her too harshly. It both annoyed and touched her that he worried for her when he knew she was perfectly capable of looking after herself, but she supposed that's what people who cared were supposed to do. Morgan may not have been her blood, but he was the closest thing to family that she would ever know.
Her 'sister' was supposed to be arriving sometime during the afternoon, but Beth wasn't particularly excited by the prospect. She had told Daryl several nights ago, outside of that house, that as long as she had Morgan, she didn't need anyone else. Morgan was the only person she trusted. These people who knew her seemed to be telling the truth, but things were different. She wasn't the same 'Beth.' There was no way she could be. The Beth before had a father named Hershel, an older sister named Maggie, and had met the group on the Greene farm; the Beth now had crawled out of a shallow grave and been 'raised' by Morgan to survive the undead and to view everyone, no matter their size or appearance, as a threat.
Movement below caught her attention and pure reflex had her hand reaching for the gun on her hip before she registered whether there was any actual danger. Several yards in front of her stood a deer, much healthier than the first one she had seen over a year ago with Morgan, blithely nibbling on the bits of grass protruding through the colored piles of leaves. She released her clutch on her pistol and leaned forward in the handmade chair she sat upon, high above the dirt floor. She'd come across the tree stand she currently inhabited during one of the first times she'd snuck out and decided to make it her haven, knowing that being off the ground was safer than trying to find a place to relax on the ground. It seemed fairly new, as the integrity of the wood did not look compromised due to the elements or age, and assumed it had probably been built by someone from Alexandria.
Inhaling deeply, Beth let herself relish in her surroundings. The moment was surreal to her. The rising sun cast halos through the swaying tree limbs, the air was cool enough that she could see her breath in small puffs with each exhale, and below her a young buck grazed without fear. She tried to imagine what life must have been like before, where people didn't live in constant distress, have to lie, steal, or fight for their next meal, and where she had possibly led a happy life with a family who loved her. She could remember nothing before waking to the harsh world in which everyone now lived and that made no difference to her. She wasn't particularly happy or sad, keeping more of a callous mentality to having any emotions at all. She did what had to be done in order to survive and learned it was easier to feel nothing than try to find any sort of sentiment in such a dark, cruel world. However, for the first time in the three years since her…'rebirth,' she found beauty in this moment. Beth could only assume that this was what peace might have felt like.
Slowly, she folded her arms over her knees, and watched the animal beneath her. She was so enthralled in the scene that she jumped when the deer jerked its head up from the ground. It looked off into the foliage behind it, ears quirky every which way, hearing and seeing something Beth could not. Reaching once more for her gun, she froze when the deer looked up at her, as if noticing her for the first time. She couldn't help but stare and felt her heart sink when it ran under her tree and away from whatever had first grasped its attention.
Slumping against the sharp bark of the tree behind her, the brace of her machete digging awkwardly into her back, Beth sighed heavily. It saddened her how easily peace could be broken. She supposed people thought the same with how quickly the world had changed, suddenly going from common to unfamiliar, and in a way she was glad she had lost her memories; a person can't miss what they don't remember.
Closing her eyes and taking another languid breath, knowing she'd spent longer out of the walls than usual and Morgan would worry if she didn't return soon, she heard what sounded like a deep voice in the distance. Opening her eyes and wrinkling her brows, Beth sat straight, and listened more intently. The woods had gone quiet…too quiet. She could feel the prickling sensation of dread rising up the back of her neck and she knew what was coming before she saw them.
"Walkers," she whispered when the deep voice turned into a gargled groan as the shuffling of feet through leaves could be heard.
Turning and stepping down the wooden boards hammered into the tree two at a time, she landed on the ground as quietly as possible. Throwing herself behind the tree, she waited. If it were only a few walkers, she could handle them, but any more than a dozen or so then she would have to run. She knew not everyone in Alexandria was equipped to handle a herd, but they had protocols for these situations, herders they had called them. They led the walkers away from the walls, but left them to roam elsewhere. In her opinion, it wasn't safe to leave even one walker 'alive.' The more walkers they 'cleared,' as Morgan phrased it, the more lives they saved.
Glancing around the tree, she saw two walkers coming from the bushes and sighed in relief. Two would be a no trouble at all. Unclipping her forearm machete from the makeshift bandolier strapped across her chest, Beth quickly slipped the weapon into place and tightened its hold on her arm. Moving from behind the tree, she calmly walked over to the first walker and thrust her blade upward through the corpse's nasal cavity. Yanking her blade free, she threw her arm in a circular motion and removed the top half of the second walkers head from the rest of its decomposing body.
Flicking her arm a few times, removing as much blood and brain matter from her machete as possible, she reached for the straps of her weapon. The shuffling of more feet through the leaves further behind her caused her to pause and she spun around to see several more walkers exiting the tree line. Taking a cautious step back, Beth moved as stealthily as possible, as the grumbling continued to crescendo. Not only were the walkers coming from behind her, but more and more were becoming visible from the direction of the two she had just killed.
Her path back to Alexandria was slowly being cut off by walking corpses and Beth quickly weighed her options. She could climb back up to safety of the tree stand, but there were hundreds of unsuspecting people in Alexandria and Morgan was among them. If he realized, which she was sure he already had, that she wasn't within the walls, there was no doubt in her mind that he would risk his life to come and find her. While the Safe zone was a fortress and she was sure the walls themselves would keep the infected out, the question was for how long? Walkers never tire and over time, with enough pressure, even metal and steel would begin to fold. Morgan had learned that the walls had fallen once already from a herd, which was why Rick had doubled the efforts of the herders and scouts along the roads to Alexandria.
With her mind made up, Beth began making a mad dash for the gates of the Safe Zone. She was maybe a mile or two from the walls and though the walkers weren't especially fast, Beth had to maneuver quickly while avoiding the dead as well as trees and shrubs. The jagged edges of the branches caught her flesh, knowing blood was probably seeping from wounds she couldn't feel, and barbs tore into her clothes. When an especially thick thorn bush snagged her apparel, she was forced to discard her jacket. In the time it took her to untangle herself from her extra layer, several walkers were in her route, forcing her farther off the semi-beaten path.
She could feel herself on the verge of panicking; knowing that if she didn't calm herself down she would overexert herself even more and her body could possibly being failing her faster if her symptoms arose. Glancing back, she felt nauseous at the number of walkers shambling through the woods. There had to be at least a hundred, if not more, and they were all moving in the direction of Alexandria. She wasn't sure whose job it was to patrol the southern roads to the Safe Zone, but whoever had been given the job had epically failed.
The only choice she had now was to run…to keep running. She'd never been in this sort of situation without Morgan, and knowing the older man, he would be scolding her for putting everyone else above herself and not climbing back up into the tree stand. She just couldn't do that though. The guilt of sitting in safety while other people were in danger, knowing she could have done something to help, would be more than Beth could bear. Thus, she had to make it because otherwise her efforts to warn everyone would be in vain and her death would be meaningless.
Skidding to a halt, she stabbed a walker through the back with her machete before it had a chance to round on her. Using the body as camouflage, she pressed through the herd, making herself as small as possible behind the carcass. She felt her left leg beginning to prickle, the first sign that her brain was losing the connection that allowed her to control her bodily movements. She tried to focus on her breathing, but between the stench of death invading her senses and having nowhere safe to hide, all she could do was keep pushing forward. The rush of adrenaline was helping to keep her feet moving, but she could feel herself slowly reaching the limit of what her body could handle.
A grip on her shirt gained her attention. Glancing back she wasn't sure whether the abomination realized she was one of them or not, but she wasn't willing to take a chance. Ripping the blade out of the walkers she was steering, she twisted and sliced the hand grabbing at her clothes in one swift movement, leaving the limb dangling awkwardly from the rest of its arm. Blood splattered across her face, dripping down her skin to absorb in the material of her shirt, but she forced herself to remain focused and quickly ended the corpse before it could sink its teeth into her. She then spun back to the walker she had used for camouflage and stabbed upwards, through the soft spot in the back of the neck just like Morgan had showed her, and jumped over the twice dead body as it crumbled to the ground. She could see the clearing through the undergrowth, pumping her legs as fast as they would take her, knowing there was still a decent amount of distance from the trees to the gates. Glancing behind her, she discerned that she wasn't going to make it in time to give them any warning. The dead were on her heels and she would be lucky if they even opened the gate for her. She needed to get their attention now, as she exited the woods, and suddenly an idea came to her.
She knew if she came running out of the thicket, no one would suspect too much until the walkers became visible. Even if she screamed, it was only likely to cause confusion and thus she decided to use what she was certain would get people moving; gunfire. The sound of gunshots automatically equaled either walkers or people attacking. Either way, it would get the guard tower barking orders for more people to get along the fences.
Pulling her pistol from its holster, she dashed towards the edge of the tree line, circling around so that her back was towards the clearing, and began retreating out of the woods. When the foliage beside her vanished and she knew she was visible to the people on patrol, she switched off her safety and began firing her gun. Emptying her first clip, taking around twelve walkers and hitting three more in nonlethal areas, Beth pulled the magazine free of the gun and shoved it into her back pocket. Grabbing the spare clip, never having been more grateful than in this moment for Morgan's incessant nagging to always keep a second round of bullets, she awkwardly reloaded, mindful of the blade still attached to her arm.
Firing at the walkers closest to her, Beth could hear the exclamations from the walls. There were voices shouting at her to run for the gate, but she knew she wouldn't be able to create enough distance to get inside without leading the walkers right to the entrance. She was too tired and it was beyond her how her left leg was still moving as she had completely lost feeling in it before she'd even exited the woods.
"If Morgan could see me, he would know," she thought to herself as she struggled to breathe.
She staggered, her knees trying to buckle beneath her weight, and there was an audible 'click' when she pulled the trigger. With no bullets left to fire, she holstered her weapon and tried to keep herself steady. Swinging wildly, she hacked off part of a walkers face, but failed to strike the brain. Lunging again, she imbedded her blade in the side of the creatures head and pulled back, as if unsheathing a sword, and the walker slide off the tip of her weapon. She then had to thrust her blade into the ground to keep from tipping forward and her chest heaved as she fought to keep air filling her lungs.
Another walker was coming from the side and she knew she needed to pull her machete free from the dirt, but she couldn't. Fumbling for the knife on her belt with her free hand, she gripped it with weak fingers, and compelled herself to stand upright. Just as the walker was upon her, a shot was fired from the gates, blowing the rotted head away from its body.
Sighing, knowing someone with decent aim and a rifle was helping her, Beth mustered enough strength to pull her machete from the ground. Turning back to the trees, a new burst of adrenaline flooded her system, giving her the speed to throw her arm in front of her face as a walker fell upon her. Its teeth gnashed against her blade and blood trickled onto her face as the decayed flesh sliced further back with each attempt it made to bite her against the sharp edge.
A strangled, frustrated cry rushed from her throat and she turned her head to try and find where her other knife had landed. The weight of the walker on her body was suffocating and the smell of death and mold made her want to vomit. Heated tears spilled from her eyes. She was so angry…angry at the injury that had impaired her, angry at her body for not being able to do what she was asking, angry at herself for always getting herself in these situations, and angry at the world for being the way it was.
Her arm trembled and the cool metal of the brace began pressing into her cheek. Her eyes focused when fingers grazed the hilt of her knife and she tightened her jaw in determination. If she was going to die here, she was going to die fighting. She stretched her hand further, feeling the walker's skin brushing against hers as it worked different angles to reach her, and caught a glint of metal as the blade bounced in grass each time she touched it. She almost had the knife in her hand when a shadow moved over her and the corpse suddenly stilled; the tip of a blade protruding from its forehead. It was only then that she could hear the chaos of screams and gunfire around her. Looking up, she expected dark eyes and darker skin, but her breath hitched when crystal blue and tan skin filled her vision.
"Beth," his voice boomed in her ears as he shoved the walker off of her, "Can ya' move?"
Beth nodded, having to focus too hard on breathing to speak, and attempted to sit up.
She managed, with Daryl's help, to get to her feet, but the moment he released her, she crumbled into his chest.
"Can't," she managed to say as she sucked in a deep breath.
Daryl nodded, picking her up and cradling her in his arms, and she let her head rest against his shoulder.
"I got ya'," his voice sounded so far away as he spoke, "Dwight, we gotta' go."
She could feel herself being jostled about as he ran, but it was all she could do keep her eyes open. She looked up, seeing the sun was now much higher in the air, and wondered how long she'd actually been fighting off the dead. The entire incident had felt like it had happened in a matter of seconds, but the exhaustion that seeped into her bones made her aware that it had been much longer than that.
Closing her eyes, her head lolling as they moved, she could hear Daryl's voice yelling her name. She could feel the tension in his muscles, she recognized the concern in his tone, but she was just so very, very tired. Daryl's hold was nothing like Morgan's had been the few times he'd had to carry her. While physical contact was something that Beth wasn't generally comfortable with, there was a strange familiarity to being held by Daryl. His smell, a mixture of oil and leather, tugged at her senses. His warmth made her feel safe for the first time since she could remember and she wondered if he'd ever held her like this before. Against her will, the sounds around her faded and the world turned black.
Beth Greene wasn't sure if she'd ever open her eyes again.
…
The first thing that Beth became aware of was the brilliant, bright light that blinded her. The second was the smell of oil and leather that enveloped her. The third was that she was actually blinking her eyes as they adjusted to her surroundings and the soft bed she was lying upon. Looking around, she was in a room she didn't recognize, and the blinding light had been from the sunlight streaming in through the window. There was an empty chair beside her bed and a glass of water on the nightstand, but there were no other indicators that suggested the room was lived in. Sitting up, she tried to follow Morgan's advice and take things slowly, knowing her body wasn't in the best condition despite how she felt.
Reaching for the glass of water, she drank it greedily; she returned it to the bedside table void of its previous contents. Her right arm was blackened with bruises and she hadn't been changed out of the clothes covered in walker blood, but for the most part she didn't appear any worse for wear. Not that she would be able to feel any difference anyway.
She could hear voices behind the closed door and watched the knob begin to turn, revealing the same blue eyes and tan skin that had come for her in the clearing. He shut the door behind him and moved into the chair beside her bed wordlessly. She watched his every move, analyzing him much like she had when they sat on the awning of Sherry's porch.
"Hey," he said softly.
Beth didn't respond.
He cleared his throat, "How…are you feelin'?"
Beth stayed silent.
His eyes jumped from her, to the bed, to his hands, and back to her, but he couldn't seem to hold her gaze. She wasn't sure what she was searching for, but Daryl had been an anomaly since she'd first met him at the gates. He had revealed that they had been close, as she had assumed from his initial reaction, but she felt like there was something he wasn't telling her. Taking a deep breath, relieved the action didn't call for extra effort, she spoke.
"I've been worse," her voice came out hoarse.
Daryl's eyes shot up to hers and it was his turn to lapse into silence.
She scanned the room once more before looking back to Daryl, "Where am I?"
"My place. Didn't think tha' mess hall would do much for someone recovering," he answered her.
"Where's Morgan?" She inquired apprehensively.
"Down tha' road," he gestured over his shoulder to nowhere in particular, "He's been helping set up y'alls place. I told 'em I'd keep an eye on ya'."
"How long have I been out?" She asked after a few heartbeats, moving her gaze from Daryl to the window behind him.
"'Bout 'ah day," he replied quietly.
"Damn," she breathed and heard him chuckle, "What?"
"Nothin'," he shook his head, but the look she gave him must have conveyed that he needed to explain and he added, "I ain't used to hearin' you cuss."
"Was that not…somethin' I did?" She asked carefully.
"Not especially," his eyes seemed to soften as he spoke, "You had 'ah thing or two t'say to me, but for tha' most part you kept it clean."
"Mark cussin' under 'Things That Have Changed,'" she huffed; her tone dripping in sarcasm.
"'S not so bad," Daryl smirked, causing her lips to curve upwards.
"It's strange. When I woke up, there were all these…things I knew how t'do, but didn't know how I knew I could do them. My body seemed to remember even when I couldn't. Some things were lost, but Morgan said I recalled how t'do all the important stuff," she murmured and smiled a little, "The cussin' is definitely picked up from Morgan though."
Daryl's rough laugh widened her smile.
A lull fell between them and Beth tore her eyes away from him to stare at her bruised arm; a clear outline of where her forearm machete had been strapped to her skin drawn in black and blue.
"I was fine with what was gonna' happen ya' know," Beth spoke evenly.
"With what?" Daryl's voice sounded gruffer than it had a moment ago.
"It's different for you…for everyone. You have all these memories, hopes and dreams, but all I have is this," she disclosed looking up at him, "I woke up to 'ah world filled with death…suffering…regret and chaos. I don't know anything else. For so long it was jus' me an' Morgan. I owe him more than I will ever be able t'repay, but he's 'ah good man. He doesn't hold it over my head or take advantage of tha' fact I am literally alive because of him."
Daryl's eyes were fixed on her, but his jaw tightening was his only response.
"The only thing he's ever asked of me was t'do what I felt was right," Beth finished somberly.
"What are ya' tryin' to say?" Daryl asked sharply.
"I'm sayin' that I could've climbed back up in my tree stand and let that herd drag their undead feet right up t'Alexandria without doing anything, but I knew that wasn't right," she explained, "So I chose to try an' warn the people at the gates, knowin' I probably wouldn't get out of there alive. I have…limits and I've never been by myself like that. Even still, I was willin' t'do whatever I could because it was the right thing t'do."
She wasn't sure what response she was expecting from Daryl, but she had expected him to at least say something. However, he just sat there, looking at her with eyes that felt like they were piercing her soul, and she forced herself to keep his gaze.
"I got there in time," he finally responded.
Beth hummed a reply.
"No one saw you pass through the gates," he gave her a flat, if not somewhat amused look if she was reading him correctly, "How'd you get out?"
"If you don't know then that must mean I've got tha' whole sneakin' out thing down pretty good," Beth smirked.
"Can you at least tell me if walkers are able t'get in the same way?" He huffed.
"No. They can't," she answered honestly.
"What were you even doin' out there?" Daryl asked after a few moments.
Beth looked up at the ceiling, replaying the tranquil moments before the walkers appeared and murmured, "Jus' wanted to escape for 'ah bit."
She heard Daryl shifting in his chair, but whatever he wanted to say remained sealed behind his lips.
Closing her eyes she added, "Then the walkers showed up and I had t'return to reality."
"It's not safe out there," Daryl's voice sounded especially rough as he spoke in a quiet tone.
"It's not safe anywhere," Beth smirked, rolling her head to the side to look at him, "and I told you I found me 'ah tree stand. I've got more sense than t'lounge around on tha' ground."
Daryl's smirk held something more that she couldn't quite identify.
Sitting in an unfamiliar room, with nearly a complete stranger, should have made Beth uncomfortable, but for reasons beyond her, she felt a twinge of what had enveloped her while sitting in the tree stand. The realization made her draw her brows together and tighten her jaw. She barely knew this man, and in all honesty he didn't know her either despite what he might have thought, and yet he had run out from the confines of safety to come to her aide. Not many people stuck their necks out for strangers anymore and she wanted to know what his reasoning had been for such an act.
"Why?" She questioned evenly.
"Why what?" He asked.
"Why'd you save me?" She elaborated her inquiry.
"What tha' hell kind'a question is that?" He requested, erupting from his chair.
"You risked your life and the lives of the people that followed you to save one person…to save me… from a herd of walkers. People don't do that. They see a herd and they run away from the walkers. They leave their loved ones behind to save themselves," she rambled her explanation out quickly.
"It was the right thing t'do," he repeated her explanation back to her.
He moved away from her to stand by the window, leaning his forearm on the wall and gazing through the dusty windowpane. Beth watched him, illuminated in the sunlight, and tried to read his expression. His brows were furrowed, his shoulders were rigid, and he was chewing on the inside of his cheek. When he removed himself from the window to lean against the wall, she blinked and brought her gaze back to stare at her hands fisted loosely in her lap.
Pulling her legs out from under the covers to dangle them over the side of the bed, she sighed, "Thank you."
"'S no big deal'," Daryl shrugged a shoulder.
"No," she refuted, "You saved my life. I owe ya' one."
"You don't owe me nothin'," Daryl retorted, "If anything I'm-"
Beth watched, waiting for him to finish his sentence, but his lips were firmly pressed together and he made no move to continue speaking.
"Morgan said the same thing," she smiled, "'Bout not owin' him. I respect him for it, even though I still think I have to repay 'em somehow."
Daryl nodded, glancing at her through the fringe of his hair.
Placing her feet on the ground, she slowly stood and tested the strength in her legs. The numbness was gone and from the looks of the bruises and cuts battering her body, she was glad she couldn't feel the pain that should have resided.
"What happened?" His voice drifted through the room.
"Hmm?" She tilted her head up at him, "When you had t'carry me?"
Daryl grunted in acknowledgment.
"Not really sure t'be honest," Beth confessed while taking steady steps towards the window, "I think it has t'do with bein' shot. Unless I had some sort 'ah illness?"
She looked up at him expectantly and he shook his head 'no.'
"Then it's from bein' shot. If I push myself too hard, if I do too much over a period of time, I start to lose tha' feelin' in my legs. After a while I'm completely numb and eventually it's too difficult t'move around. Sometimes it gets really hard t'breath. Morgan thought I might've had somethin' wrong before, but bein' shot was the most obvious explanation. Neither one of us knew for sure though, 'til now at least," Beth explained as she looked out the window.
She glanced up at Daryl when she heard his teeth grinding together.
"I don't want you to feel sorry for me," Beth kept her voice even, "What happened to me, happened for a reason. I deal with it. I don't want anyone's pity."
"You didn't do anything t'deserve this," Daryl spat.
He knew what had happened to her, all she had to do was ask, but she was too afraid to learn the truth. She'd managed to survive the last three years without knowing who she'd been and she didn't see any benefits in learning about what her past self had been like. While she was curious, her imagination had conjured so many different situations that she preferred her oblivion to what the truth might reveal.
"It doesn't always happen," Beth felt the need to ease some of the tension in the air, "Sometimes I can clear several dozen walkers an' be completely fine. Other times, well…you saw."
"Does it hurt?" Daryl turned onto his shoulder, pressing against the side of the window seal, and stared through the window with her.
"I don't even remember what pain feels like," she said so quietly she wasn't sure he heard her.
"What does that-"
A knock on the door interrupted Daryl's question.
"Hey kiddo," Morgan peeked around the door.
"Hey," she replied, stepping away from the window and Daryl to approach the older man.
"How ya' feelin'?" Morgan asked breezily.
"You know I feel fine," she smiled, "My machete arm looks pretty bad though."
"Jesus," Morgan took her arm gently, "These are tha' worst you've had."
"Yeah," Beth nodded, "We need to figure out something to replace the inner lining of the brace. It doesn't hinder me, but I don't think this is good for my arm."
She could see Daryl, watching them with unabashed curiosity written all over his features, out of her peripheral. She had kept her guard up while talking with him, but her opinion of him had changed after today. He could have pushed her to tell him how she was getting out of their almost impenetrable fortress. He could have left her in the mess hall to recover. He could have let her die; however he did none of those things. He'd asked whether her escape route endangered the lives of the people living in the community, he'd opened his home to a stranger so that she could sleep in the most comfortable bed she had ever laid in, and he had run into a herd of flesh eating monster for her. She was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, she could be a little more trusting of Daryl. He put others safety above his own, he was taking care of her when she'd told him she didn't need him or anyone else, and he'd saved her when the only person she expected to do such a thing was Morgan. He was a lot more like her than she'd realized.
"Alright," Morgan's voice broke her thoughts, "I'll ask around."
"I can fix it," Daryl said from where he stood against the wall, "if ya' want."
Beth could feel Morgan's questioning eyes on her, but her gaze was locked on Daryl. If she said yes, she would be taking a step towards…something. She had never let anyone else in besides Morgan, but like her companion, Daryl had refused the idea that she owed him for his help. He had proven he was just as good of a man as Morgan so the least she could do was try to trust him.
"Okay," she gave a small smile, "I'd appreciate that."
Something changed in Daryl's expression. His eyes didn't seem quite as harsh and his body visibly relaxed. He dropped his head to look down at his feet before she could fully examine his features and she stared at the top of his head in idle curiosity. Turning back to Morgan, who had the biggest smile she'd ever seen plastered across his face, she felt her smile widen.
"You done good out there hun," he lifted a hand and ruffled her hair.
"I lost it," she grumbled, referring to when she had begun losing control of her body.
"I'm lucky Daryl was there t'get ya'," she watched Morgan glance over to her rescuer.
"Yeah, me too," she said quietly, before asking in a normal tone, "What happened to tha' herd?"
"Rick sent some people out on horses, drove 'em away, but you gave them some extra time. Had damn near every walker out there after you," his smile faltered, "I'm proud of you. You did tha' right thing, but next time…worry more about savin' yourself. I've made it through some impossible times, but I don't think my old heart could take losin' you too."
Beth sighed and nodded.
Morgan had told her about his wife, Jenny, and Duane. He didn't go into detail, but Beth knew enough to understand that she wasn't the only one that viewed their relationship as 'all they had left' in the world.
"I'll be more careful next time," Beth murmured.
Morgan smiled and removed his hand from her hair.
There was a heavy silence and Beth peeked out of the corner of her eye to see Daryl still leaning against the wall, looking as uncomfortable as she'd ever seen him.
"You ready to meet your sister?" Morgan's question caught her by surprise.
Beth snapped her eyes back to the older man and could feel the color draining from her face. The idea of meeting someone who had once, and still technically was, a part of her family made Beth feel uneasy. Her situation hadn't seemed to matter to the people she'd come across so far, however they'd only known her for a short time. This person had been with her since the day she was born. The pressure she felt to be who her sister wanted was overwhelming.
"Uh, yeah," she glanced at Daryl, "I'm jus' gonna' finish up here. Where d'you wanna' meet?"
"I got us all moved in to a house down the road," Morgan explained, "take a left down the road and it's the third house on the left. Maggie, Glenn, and their little one are there waitin'."
Beth forced herself to keep her voice even, "Left and third on the left. Got it. I'll be there in a few minutes."
Morgan furrowed his brows, looking her over, before nodding and leaving the room.
Beth took a deep breath and hung her head. She could hear Daryl move from where he leaned against the wall, his footsteps thundering in her ears, and felt his presence in front of her. Looking up from the hole she was trying to burn into the floor, she met his crystal blue eyes.
"Maggie felt 'ah lot of guilt after you were gone," Daryl's coarse voice rumbled through the room, "Glenn tried t'help, but she jus' felt like she had nothin' left. Then she found out she was pregnant and things changed 'ah bit."
"Were we close?" Beth found herself asking despite everything she felt.
"Yeah," Daryl breathed and continued, "When tha' prison fell and we got separated, you kept me goin'. You were the one who kept tellin' me everyone was still alive. Then when you got taken, I believed you were still alive. I owed you that much."
"So Maggie thought I was dead?" She assumed from where he seemed to be leading their conversation.
"I dunno' what Maggie thought t'be honest. Ain't really my place to talk for her," Daryl's jaw tightened, "but she's not gonna' be disappointed if that's what you're worried about."
"A little," Beth admitted, "I'm not really good at dealin' with people."
Daryl laughed, "Better'n me."
Beth found herself smiling.
"You bein' alive is enough," Daryl declared softly, "When I put that cross with your name on it in tha' ground…I thought it was the end."
"That's usually how it works," Beth acknowledged.
"Maggie's not gonna' be disappointed," Daryl repeated, "She's gonna' be happy that she's gettin' a second chance t'be your sister."
Beth felt her heart swell ever so slightly. She hadn't thought of it that way. She had been so consumed with how different she might be that she hadn't taken into account that the fact she was still alive would mean more than anything else to some people. She also couldn't help but think that Daryl's words about her sister might have applied to him as well.
"Thank you," Beth reached out with trembling, unsure fingers and took his hand, "I needed to hear that."
She wasn't sure what had possessed her to reach out for him, but it had just come naturally, as if she'd needed to express her gratitude through contact. His fingers wrapped around hers and the feel of his calloused skin was soothing. The intensity of his eyes was the same as the day she'd met him outside the gates and Beth had to remind herself to breath.
"I got somethin' I wanna' give you," he tugged her out of the bedroom, down the hall, and into the living room.
"What?" She asked when he released her hand.
She watched as he crossed the living room and opened a trunk sitting in front of the large, bay windows. He opened it, rifling through for a moment, before pulling out something and closing the lid. He approached her, holding out a long knife in a black, leather sheath.
"This was yours," he placed the knife in her hands.
"Mine?" She asked; confused.
"Yeah," he nodded.
"From before?" She probed further.
He nodded and smirked, "I bought it at some shit pawn shop when my brother was sellin' some stuff he'd…found."
"Then it was yours?" The crease between her eyebrows deepened.
"Was. I let you keep it after you took 'ah likin' to it. You didn't give me much choice," his smirk turned into a lazy grin.
"Thanks," she said while keeping her eyes on the weapon in her hand.
"Figured you could use it since ya' lost your other one," Daryl tipped his head toward the smaller sheath hanging on her hip without a knife.
Undoing her belt and replacing her empty sheath with the knife Daryl had just given her, she felt more comfortable with the change of weight on her side. Retightening her belt, Beth pulled her shirt back over the hem of her pants and smoothed it out. She needed a fresh change of clothes, but everything she owned was in a house where people she didn't know we're expecting her.
"I'd better get goin'," she murmured, her eyes dancing between his.
"Yeah," he nodded.
They stared at each other a few more moments before he dropped his gaze and led her to the front door.
"I was wrong the other night," she said while standing in the doorway.
Daryl's questioning look told her she needed to explain.
"When I told you I didn't think there were any good people left in the world," she elaborated, "I was wrong."
Daryl shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He didn't look uncomfortable, rather he seemed unsure of how to reply, and thus he remained silent.
Turning to leave, she made it down the steps of his porch before he called to her.
"Hey Beth," his voice stopped her.
"Yeah?" She answered over her shoulder.
"Yesterday," he paused, "We haven't seen a herd that big in a while. People get lazy, too comfortable, and shit like that happens."
She blinked, waiting for him to continue.
"What you did…most people would've looked out for themselves," he rubbed the back of his neck as he fumbled through his statement, "You always worried about other people more'n yourself, even before."
"Oh," she exhaled, feeling unsure of how to reply much like she thought Daryl must have at her statement a moment ago.
"If the walkers had reached the wall, even with the trenches we've dug and the barriers we've made, if they had reached the wall," he shoved his hands in his pocket and stepped out of the shade from the porch, "You saved us a lot 'ah trouble."
"You woulda' done the same," she replied with a shrug.
"Yeah," his voice even, "I woulda'."
She smiled, a genuine smile, and turned back towards the road.
Kicking a few rocks with her foot, she brushed her fingers against the soft, worn leather of the knife she'd once owned. Her eyes flickered over the handle, examining every knick and scratch, wondering where they all came from.
Reaching the third house on the left, Beth stood in front of the broken fence, and took a steadying breath. Maybe Daryl was right. Maybe her being alive would be enough and the people inside would just be happy that they had the opportunity to start afresh. Maybe she shouldn't worry so much about how different she might be and just live her life the way she wanted. She'd never put much thought into what her future held, knowing that the sun would set and rise again and their struggle to survive would continue. Here though, behind the steel walls of Alexandria, she might actually have a chance to experience the things she couldn't remember. She could reconnect with the people she'd lost in her memories and make a home for herself. The idea that the world didn't have to be the dark, cruel place she'd accepted made her feel lighter and a foreign sensation slowly began capturing her heart.
For the first time…Beth had hope.
…
A/N: So after long last I finally give you Beth's perspective! I wanted to wait until the story was more established because I wanted to mystery of what Beth felt to be left to the reader's interpretation and what we saw of her through Daryl and Morgan. I intended it this way so that Beth would be a stranger to us as well as Daryl. If we knew how she felt (in general) it would ruin some of the anticipation when we finally got to read how she feels about everything. So this was a Beth centric chapter and from here on it will be strictly from Daryl and Beth's perspectives. Very rarely will I have a Morgan POV unless the scene calls for an outside perspective looking in on Bethyl. Hope this chapter was to your satisfaction! Let me know what you think!
The knife scene was for Smudge! I promised her a picnic, but wanted to surprise her with the knife scene! If you have any scenes from TWD (past seasons or not) that you would like me to try and incorporate, just PM me or leave it in a review and I'll do my best to fit it in the story if a scene allows!