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 so much Nicole for staying up late to edit this for me so I could post tonight! You're the best!
A/N: Just wanted to let you guys know that during the month of June I will not be posting! I'm taking my first vacation in like six years (last one was in 2009) and while I'll be taking my laptop with me, I'm hoping to be too busy to actually have down time to sit and write! I MIGHT post towards the end of the month, but I wanted you guys to have plenty of notice that after my second post in May, to not expect anything until July!
…
Beth had spent the past forty-eight hours by Morgan's side. She hadn't left the med bay, even to eat, and Barbara had been kind enough to bring an additional meal for her when Morgan was served his food. She was stiff from sitting in the plastic chair beside his bed and she hadn't been able to sleep through the night since their encounter outside of the walls, but she refused to leave him alone. The Whisperers were in the woods and she knew they would eventually figure out a way inside. It was only a matter of time.
"Beth?" A voice interrupted her thoughts, "Where'd you go?"
Beth blinked and looked over to Morgan, "I'm here. Just got lost in my thoughts."
"You look tired," he declared while giving her a once over.
"That 'ah nice way of sayin' I look like hell?" Beth narrowed her eyes and smirked.
"Somethin' like that," Morgan chuckled.
Sighing, she picked at her thumb nail, "Yeah, well, sleepin' in a plastic chair isn't exactly comfortable. Those mattresses aren't much better. Feels like I'm sleepin' on rocks."
She wasn't completely lying. The chairs were uncomfortable and the mattress had barely enough cushioning left to be considered a legitimate bed, but that wasn't what kept her up at night. The reality was that each and every night, once she had fallen asleep, men and women dressed as the dead would haunt her. Sometimes she would be running from them, desperately trying to get back to the walls, and other times they would attack those she cared about while she was powerless to stop them. Despite the severity and vividness of her nightmares, she didn't want Morgan to fret over her. He needed to heal, he needed to gain his strength back enough for him to defend himself, and he needed to do it fast. There was no way of knowing what The Whisperers were planning and she needed the reassurance that he would be able to take care of himself.
"Sure there ain't somethin' else botherin' you?" He queried apprehensively.
"What else would there be?" Beth feigned obliviousness.
By the way he narrowed his eyes at her and the tone of his voice; she knew he was aware that she wasn't telling him the truth.
"When did we start keepin' secrets from each other?" Morgan breathed in deeply.
Beth felt a pang of guilt, biting the tip of her tongue to keep the snappy retort she had ready to deflect his question, the swinging doors clattered behind them and his question was left unanswered. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a familiar set of broad shoulders, shaggy hair, and piercing blue eyes entering the room.
"Mornin'," Daryl greeted them.
"Good mornin' Daryl," Morgan returned with a smile.
"Hey," Beth murmured over her shoulder.
She caught a glimpse of Daryl's furrowed brows before she turned back around to stare at the makeshift railing that had been bolted to the side of Morgan's cot.
"I's just comin' to see how you were feelin'," Daryl continued after a few moments.
"Still a bit sore," the older man admitted, "but I'm feelin' more like myself every day."
"That's good. Doc say how long it'd be 'til you'd be on your feet again?" Daryl questioned.
"'Bout two weeks," Morgan replied, "So long as infection doesn't set in."
"Yeah," Beth tapped the toe of her boot against the metal leg of the bed, "Then we have to figure somethin' out for your arm."
Silence fell between them.
Beth could feel Daryl's looming presence behind her. The heat radiating from under his flannel shirt and leather vest was warm against her back. Every time he shifted, the scent of pine and oil would drift past her, and she suddenly began having trouble keeping her eyes open.
"I, uh," Daryl cleared his throat, "My brother. He lost his hand."
"I'm sorry t'hear that," Morgan consoled genuinely.
"S'okay," Beth felt the material of Daryl's shirt brush against her arm as he spoke, "Don't matter now. He's gone, but he, uh… He made this prosthetic thing for his hand. It went over his arm and he attached 'ah blade to tha' end of it."
Beth perked up at the information. Not only could she vaguely remember Daryl mentioning he had a brother, but more so because it had never occurred to her that they could craft some sort of weaponized, artificial limb. She had honestly expected Morgan to be limited to one arm and vulnerable on his left side for the remainder of his life.
"What would we need t'make somethin' like that?" Beth turned around in her chair to look up at Daryl.
"I already talked t'Carl about it," Daryl informed her and then moved his gaze to Morgan, "Said he'd need you t'come visit when everything settles down so he can get your measurements. He's tha' blacksmith over at Hilltop. He's got everything there if you're interested."
"He can really make somethin'?" Beth smiled when Daryl nodded.
"Sounds good t'me," Morgan said from his cot.
"I'll ask Sherry to radio over and let 'em know," Daryl smirked down at her.
"Thank you," Beth tried to express the relief she felt in those two words.
"Not that big of 'ah deal," Daryl mumbled.
"It is," Morgan spoke smoothly, "Thank you Daryl."
"Yeah," he stuffed his hands in his pockets, "Just wanted to try an' help."
"You have," Morgan smiled warmly.
"It'd be kind 'ah like my machete," Beth turned back to Morgan, "with the brace and all."
"Guess you'll be the one givin' me weapons lessons now," Morgan teased, "And so the student becomes the master."
Beth rolled her eyes at his exaggerated tone, "At least you won't get 'ah crash course on 'surviving in the apocalypse' like I did."
"I'd imagine losin' an arm is about on par," Morgan chuckled and then inquired, "Speakin' of, where is your machete?"
Beth tilted her head and furrowed her brows.
She hadn't seen any of her belongings since she'd been brought to the med bay. She had been confined to her bed for almost a week, stayed with Morgan since she'd 'officially' been released, and she'd only stepped outside for a moment or two to get some fresh air once or twice. When she'd awoken, she'd been dressed in a clean pair of clothes, but nothing more. Being so stressed about Morgan's condition she had never even noticed that her weapons and other essentials were missing.
"I got yer' stuff," Daryl stated behind her.
"Oh," Beth looked back at him, "Really?"
"Yeah. I never got a chance to work on the brace, so I figured I'd take it and try to figure out a way to add the padding," Daryl explained, "I need t'see where the brace is leavin' bruises on your arm though."
"Why don't you go and let him try t'fix it for you," Morgan suggested.
"But…," Beth glanced between the two of them.
"Beth, sugar, I'll be right here, layin' in this bed when you get back," Morgan encouraged, "You haven't left this building for nearly 'ah week and you need to get some sorta' padding on that brace."
"Are you sure?" Beth worked her bottom lip between her teeth.
"Go," Morgan commanded, "I'll be fine."
"Well…," Beth sighed in defeat, "Okay. I'll be back in a little bit."
"Take your time," Morgan said with a smile.
Beth nodded and rose from her chair.
"Rick said he'd be comin' by later t'check on you," Daryl announced as Beth moved beside him.
"Alright," Morgan accepted.
"He's got 'ah few questions for ya'," Daryl elaborated.
"I'd imagine so," Morgan nodded gravely.
Daryl turned to Beth and jerked his head toward the door, "Your stuffs back at my house."
"'Kay," she acknowledged as she followed him out of the building.
She had to shield her eyes from the bright rays of the sun that overwhelmed her sight. The way the warm beams of light kissed her skin and how the cool breeze flit through her hair, Beth realized how much she missed being outdoors.
"That brace tha' one that came with the machete?" Daryl questioned as they walked.
"No," Beth shook her head, "The original brace was too big for my arm. Morgan and I built the one on there now from some spare parts in an old car garage. Made it to where it would cover both sides of my arm for protection."
"Smart," Daryl commented.
"It was Morgan's idea," Beth stated proudly.
She walked beside him, making a quick detour by Sherry's office with the message for Carl, and then they travelled a few blocks over to his house. Climbing the stairs of his porch, her senses were assaulted by smells she had come to associate strictly with Daryl as she entered his home.
"You want somethin' to drink?" Daryl asked, tossing his muddy boots on the tile entryway in the front door.
"No thanks," Beth answered while she copied his actions.
"Alright. I'll go grab your stuff and 'ah couple things I'll need to pad your brace," Daryl said over his shoulder while walking out of the room.
Beth took a seat on the couch and cast her eyes around the room. The last time she had been in the house she had only taken stock of all the ways she could exit the home in case of an emergency, a subconscious act Morgan had instilled in her, but looking around now she realized how nice Daryl's house actually was. The same trunk he'd gotten her knife from was still sitting in front of the curtained bay windows that kept the sun from illuminating the room. There was a couch, a coffee table, recliner, and stools in front of the bar that separated the living room from the kitchen. Her focus shifted to Daryl when he reentered carrying her belt, knife, machete, and the clothes she'd been wearing when she was taken to the med bay.
"Thanks for takin' care of my things for me," Beth said as she reached out to take her belongings.
"Yeah," Daryl murmured, handing over her things and moving to sit on the couch.
Beth slid her belt into the loops of her jeans, threading her knife holster through so that it would sit on her side, and reclaimed her spot on the couch.
"I meant t'bring your stuff back to ya', but we've been busy makin' sure the wall is secure," Daryl explained in an apologetic tone.
"It's okay," Beth hummed, "I was too preoccupied with Morgan and didn't even realize anything was missin'."
Daryl nodded and began inspecting the brace of her machete.
Beth watched with interest as he examined Morgan's craftsmanship. There were dents in the brace from where walkers had clamped down on the aluminum with their teeth. Some of the bolts were beginning to rust from weather and the copious amounts of blood that the weapon had been covered in over the past two years. Despite everything, the blade, while worn, was still sharp from time and effort she spent grinding it with her whet stone.
"Lemme' see your arm," Daryl requested quietly.
He took hold of her hand and turned it over so that her palm was facing him. He then gently began removing the bandages that were tightly bound over her skin. Once the compress had been removed, he began inspecting her arm, gently flipping her hand over and back again as he examined each bruise. The marks on her skin had faded to a yellowish-green, signifying that it would only be a few more days until they were gone completely, and the swelling around her wrist had lessened significantly.
The way Daryl gently examined each and every bruise that marred her skin, brushing his calloused fingers across her flesh as he glanced between her arm and the brace of her weapon, and the feel of his warm breath ghosting over her palm caused a fluttering sensation to spread inside her stomach. She suddenly felt clammy, the hand resting in her lap was beginning to sweat, and each inhalation felt more difficult than the last. Her eyes traced the way his hair fell in his face as he leaned over and placed the machete back on the coffee table, they then darted to his mouth as he bit his lower lip while he concentrated, and finally his eyes locked with hers.
"Beth?" Daryl's stare filled with concern.
Inhaling, she tried to find her voice, but couldn't seem to be able to think of a reply.
His brows drew together and she knew she needed to say something...anything.
"Yeah?" Her breathy response sounded foreign to her own ears.
His frown deepened, "Am I hurtin' you?"
"What?" Beth glanced down at her arm, "Oh. No. No, you're not."
"Ya' sure?" He asked with a hint of skepticism.
Ignoring the queasiness in her stomach, she gave him a firm nod.
Daryl gave her one last look before she gently placed her arm back in her lap and turned to the coffee table.
"What's that?" She asked when he pulled a handful of something from beside him on the couch.
"I took tha' padding out of 'ah motorcycle helmet Aaron had in his garage when I went and checked his house for 'em," Daryl replied, giving her a piece of soft fabric-like material.
"Who's Aaron?" She inquired with genuine curiosity.
"He's tha' guy that brought us here in tha' first place," Daryl murmured while taking pieces of foam and measuring them inside the brace, "If not for him, then we'd still be out there…probably dead by now."
"Oh," Beth exhaled, "Where…is he?"
"After tha' war with Negan, he had some shit t'deal with," Daryl answered vaguely, "He went t'Hilltop for 'ah while with Maggie and Glenn. Now he works with Rosita managing the herds and steerin' them away from the colonies."
"Have I met him?" Beth tried to recall anyone named Aaron from all the people she'd be introduced to.
"Nah," Daryl shook his head, "He's Hilltop right now. Supposed t'be comin' back with supplies in a week er' two."
"It's nice of you t'check his house for him," Beth expressed with a small smile.
"He's a good guy," Daryl paused from fiddling with the brace to look at her, "I owe him a lot."
Beth nodded, completely understanding, and watched as Daryl went back to tinkering with her weapon.
Silence fell between them as Daryl used his knife to shave the padding so they fit along the rails of her brace. She watched him take a small screwdriver and poke a hole through each end of the foam material. He then took some clear fishing line, placing both ends through the hole of the padding, and began looping the string around the brace to secure the padding in place. It looked like a tedious process and Beth felt she needed to once again express her gratitude.
"I, uh," she fumbled when his sharp gaze returned to her, "I really appreciate you doin' this."
"S'no big deal," his voice came out rough, "but this is just 'ah temporary fix."
"I'm doin' this more for Morgan's sake than my own," Beth replied nonchalantly, "Not havin' the padding never affected me anyway."
Daryl hesitated as he strung another piece of padding around the second rail, "I could make ya' a new one."
"New brace?" Beth raised an eyebrow in uncertainty.
"Yeah. I built my bike from spare parts," Daryl shrugged, "Figure makin' a brace for this can't be much harder."
"You built your own motorcycle?" Beth asked bemusedly.
They had come across a few working vehicles while on the road, but Morgan had always preferred to travel on foot. Vehicles not only attracted the attention of the walkers, but also anyone else out there willing to kill in order to take your belongings.
"Uh-huh," Daryl confirmed, "Not that hard if ya' know what you're doin'."
"Well…thanks, but," Beth started; now wanting to seem ungrateful for his offer, "you've already done enough. It really doesn't bother me if the padding doesn't last. I don't really need it anyway."
"Have you seen your arm?" He sneered as his eyes flicked from her to injured limb.
"I can't feel-"
"That ain't tha' point Beth," Daryl snapped as he tossed the brace down on the table.
Beth clenched her jaw. She scooted back onto the couch, crossing her arms over her chest and narrowing her eyes, her anger simmering just under her skin. She was about to make a snarky reply when he continued in a softer tone.
"You said unless you're bleedin' or see bruising or somethin' that you don't know if you've been hurt or not," Daryl huffed, running a hand through his hair, "Your arm was a fuckin' mess when the doc looked at it. You know the brace is causin' damage and if you don't plan on takin' care of yourself, then…"
Beth's irritation quickly transformed into perplexity, "Then…what?"
"Then I'll just have t'make sure you don't do nothin' stupid myself," Daryl bellowed in frustration, refusing to look at her.
Beth blinked, unsure of how to respond, and finally settled for, "Oh…"
"You're not givin' me much choice with all this shit goin' on," Daryl grumbled, picking up the machete and jerkily tying off the loose string he'd been working with before his outburst.
Although she didn't know Daryl as well as she might have before, she had been around him enough to begin understanding how he worked. When he was worried or frustrated, he'd resort to anger, or if he was upset, he would go off alone where no one could find him. There were other mannerisms she hadn't quite been able to decipher the meaning of, but she knew in time, she'd have him completely figured out.
Realizing her thoughts, she mentally shook her head, and decided to make a peace offering, "Fine. I'll agree t'let you make me 'ah new brace if you let me help you."
"Okay-"
"And I don't mean jus' sit in the room while you work. I mean I want to actually help build it," she clarified.
Daryl finally looked up at her and smirked, "Alright."
Beth felt her lips curve into a smile and she settled into the couch to let him finish his work.
He continued to measure and shave down each piece of padding with his knife, making holes, and meticulously looping the clear fishing line through to attach it to the machete brace. She watched his hands work, enveloped in the warm of his couch and the smells of his house, and before long she felt her eyes beginning to droop. She hadn't slept well since she'd returned from outside the walls and being deprived of a dreamless slumber for so long was finally taking its toll. Each time she blinked, it was a struggle to reopen her eyes, and the sounds of Daryl working beside her were slowly lulling her to sleep.
Closing her eyes, she felt herself tip to the side, landing against something solid and warm and she fell fast asleep.
…
Daryl's fingers were beginning to ache from threading the clear string through the padding onto Beth's brace, but he only had a few pieces left before he would feel satisfied that it would no longer cause injury to her wrist. As he was tying off the line to the last piece of foam, he felt a pressure against his side. Glancing over, he saw Beth was fast asleep, and had lost her balance from where she sat.
"Beth?" He whispered quietly.
When his only reply was the sound of her even breathing, Daryl sighed and chewed on the inside of his lip. He knew if he tried to stand up, she would no doubt wake up, and he had seen how tired she was from the dark circles under her eyes. Morgan had also made a comment in regards to her appearance. Beth had been outside getting some air when Daryl had come to visit and the older man stated that he feared nightmares were keeping her from getting more than a couple of hours the past few nights.
His eyes darted around the room before looking over his shoulder at Beth once more. Her blond hair spilled across her shoulder, her lips were slightly parted, and her face was devoid of any of the stress he'd seen since she awoke in the med bay. She just looked so…tired. Determined not to wake her, Daryl took a steadying breath, and set her weapon on the coffee table one final time.
Twisting ever so slowly, he managed to prop her head against his shoulder. He held his breath when she stirred, waiting to see if he had awoken her, and exhaled when she leaned further into his shoulder. He then maneuvered himself off of the couch, placing his free arm under his knees, and lifted her up. Taking smooth steps, he exited to the living room, strode down the hall, and kicked open the door to his bedroom. He placed his knee on the mattress and carefully placed Beth into his unmade bed. She immediately turned onto her side, but did nothing to indicate that she would be waking any time soon. Throwing his covers over her, he quietly left the room, shutting the door behind him.
With Beth taken care of, he made his way back into the living room when a knock sounded at the door. Jerking his head to his bedroom door, hoping Beth was so deeply asleep she hadn't heard the noise, he rushed to the door before his visitor could knock again.
"Hey," Dwight said, his fist still in the air, "Rick told me t'come see if you were ready to talk t'Morgan."
"Yeah," Daryl nodded and looked over his shoulder once more, "Yeah. Just give me 'ah sec."
"Everything alright?" Dwight inquired, trying to follow the path of Daryl's eyes.
"Yeah, fine," Daryl didn't elaborate.
"If you say so," Dwight muttered and stepped across the threshold of the house.
"Keep yer' voice down," Daryl hissed, grabbing his crossbow.
"What tha' hell is goin' on with you?" Dwight whispered harshly.
"Nothin'," Daryl brushed passed him and slipped on his boots, not bothering to tie the laces, "Let's go."
Daryl waited for Dwight to step onto the porch before he peered inside to see his bedroom door still closed. Ignoring the bizarre look Dwight was giving him as he shut his front door; Daryl bounded down the steps and started toward the hospital. After a few moments, he could hear Dwight's footsteps in the gravel behind him.
…
Daryl entered the med bay to find Rick sitting in a chair beside Morgan's bed, both laughing. As he approached, Morgan gave him a warm smile and Rick greeted him with a nod.
"Beth not with you?" Morgan asked, looking around for the young blonde.
"No," he replied, "She fell asleep."
"Good," Morgan sounded relieved.
"That's why you were actin' so damn weird when I knocked on your door," Dwight chuckled, patting Daryl's shoulder.
Daryl shrugged the offending hand off and grumbled, "Shut up Dwight."
"Ain't nothin' t'be ashamed of," Dwight teased, "You finally got 'ah girl in your bed and-"
"Dwight," Daryl warned.
"Alright, alright," Dwight lifted his hands in surrender, "I'm just sayin'. 'Bout damn time."
"It ain't like that," Daryl glared.
"Whatever you say man," Dwight tone grating on his nerves.
"I may not be her flesh and blood, but I do see myself as her father-figure," Morgan gave Dwight a stern look, "I don't much appreciate you talkin' about my girl that way."
"I, uh," Dwight looked over to Daryl who wore a smirk and fumbled over his words, "Sorry sir."
"Just don't let Beth hear ya' talk that way," Morgan advised, "She's liable t'knock you on your ass."
"Yes sir," Dwight nodded.
As much as Daryl enjoyed Dwight's discomfort for all the times he had been put on the spot by his right hand man, he knew they had more important matters to discuss.
"So," Morgan's eyes shifted between the three of them, "What brings you gentlemen here t'see me?"
"Beth told Daryl about The Whisperers," Rick got straight to the point.
"She said as much," Morgan sighed dejectedly, "So they really followed us here, huh?"
"Seems so," Rick replied regretfully, "but we're not sure."
"Beth is," Morgan countered, "If she's sure, then they're here."
"She said you two came across them while travelin' through the Port Royal area," Rick began, "but that wasn't tha' first time you've seen these…people, was it?"
Morgan took a deep breath, "No."
Daryl scowled, "Beth know this?"
Morgan shook his head.
"Why didn't you tell 'er?" Dwight asked, having recovered from his earlier scolding.
"I may not be her daddy, but I assumed that role the moment I helped her out of that shallow grave. This world is…cruel and harsh and I've done things…things I'm not proud of, but I am proud of her. I wasn't right, wasn't healthy, when I met her. She may say I saved her life, but tha' truth is, after Duane died…after my wife died, I wasn't livin'. I was barely even 'ah person anymore. Beth, she brought me back. She made me remember what it was like to live," Morgan reminisced sadly, "She's saved my life, three times now, and I've done tha' best I can to protect her. She's been through enough in the short time she remembers. I tried to shelter her from some of tha' evil out there. I failed my wife…I failed Duane…and now it seems I've failed Beth too."
The room fell silent as the weight of Morgan's words bore down on them.
Daryl glared down at the floor, mulling over everything he had just been told. He was torn on how he thought he would've handled the situation. On one hand, he understood how Morgan felt by wanted to protect Beth from the world, but on the other he trusted Beth's capabilities of handling whatever the apocalypse threw at them.
"We're gonna' figure this out," Rick said firmly.
"I told Beth tha' same thing," Morgan smiled bitterly, "She thinks we should leave."
Daryl's head shot up at Morgan's announcement.
"She didn't say as much, but I can tell when she's got an idea 'bout something," Morgan continued, "She said us bein' here jeopardizes your community…and she's right."
"What makes you say that?" Rick inquired grimly.
"Those things are out t'get us," Morgan replied evenly, "No matter the cost or who gets in tha' way."
"Why are they so hell bent on you two?" Dwight asked the question that had been bothering Daryl since his conversation when Beth awoke.
"Revenge," Morgan answered without hesitation.
"Revenge?" Rick repeated.
"Before I met Beth, I killed several of 'em," Morgan began, "I was 'clearing' walkers back then. It didn't matter how many there were, I jus' needed to 'clear.' That was the only purpose I had durin' that time."
"What happended?" Dwight asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
"While I was 'clearing' some walkers, one of them pulled a knife on me," Morgan sighed, "I should've known right then and there that somethin' was wrong, but I wasn't…I wasn't in the best frame of mind at the time. I ended up killin' it, but when I took a closer look, I realized it wasn't a walker. It was a person wearin' a dead man's face. Not knowin' what else t'do, I took his body with the rest of the walkers to the pile an' burn it. 'Ah few days later, more of them showed up."
Daryl noticed Morgan's hand was clenched tightly in his lap and there was a far off look on his face as he spoke.
"They maneuvered through my traps and I knew they was like tha' one I'd killed the other day. I shot 'em from tha' window of the building I was holed up in. Same one you found me in," he directed towards Rick, "I burned their bodies too. It was about 'ah week or so later that I woke up to an explosion right outside my building. They'd set 'ah truck and my all my traps on fire. I could hear them yelling through tha' building, trying t'find me. It whadn't safe there anymore…so I left. Used the fire escape, kept to tha' shadows, and ran into the woods. I found the emergency pack that I'd buried at tha' base of 'ah pine tree, started walkin', and never looked back."
"But they found you?" Rick leaned forward in his chair, propping his elbows on his knees, listening intently.
"Not for 'ah while. Not until Port Royal," Morgan sighed wearily.
Silence resumed with a tension so heavy and thick that Daryl felt suffocated by it.
"Beth killed tha' leader's brother," Morgan rasped out, "Happened while I was unconscious after the bridge incident. She's never told me what happened or how she knows who it was that she killed, no matter how many times I ask, but they're after her even more than they are me."
"Damn…," Dwight whispered.
"As long as we're here, we're endangerin' your people," Morgan reiterated what he said Beth had told him.
"Neither one of you are leavin'," Daryl declared.
The idea that Beth felt it was better for the two of them to leave, rather than stay and let them help, angered him. He had thought that she was finally beginning to trust them, to trust him. Then again, it was Beth. She had always been the type to do whatever she could to keep others from getting hurt. He could only assume that, in her own way, she felt leaving was the best option to keep everyone in Alexandria safe.
"Daryl's right," Rick agreed, "You're in no condition to go anywhere. You're both here, you're family, and we take care of our own."
"You'd have a better chance killin' those bastards in here than you would out there," Dwight added encouragingly.
Morgan took a steadying breath, "I thank you for that."
"We'll figure somethin' out," Rick reaffirmed, "For now, we'll keep the gates closed, watch tha' woods, and see what they do."
"I've got four men along each wall, everyone's been told that the gate doesn't open for any reason, and Sasha and 'ah few of the other snipers are takin' turns in the tower," Dwight announced.
"I've talked with Rosita," Rick added, "She's got riders taking shifts at the stables for the time being. She also said she'll have four horses saddled up and ready to go in case of a herd."
"Eugene's got everyone in his group workin' double time on makin' more ammunition to replenish what we used. He also said he's gonna' try t'get a new box filled every week so we'll have surplus in case of an emergency," Daryl reported with confidence.
"Good," Rick breathed, "I've contacted Maggie and Glenn. They're followin' the same protocol as us."
"Any word from the Kingdom?" Dwight asked earnestly.
Rick shook his head.
"Somethin's wrong," Daryl sneered.
"I know," Rick heaved, "but we gotta' worry about our people first."
While Daryl agreed, that didn't stop the worry gnawing away at him.
"If we still haven't heard anything in 'ah week," Rick declared, "I want you to go and see what happened."
Daryl nodded.
"I'll talk t'Beth when she comes back," Morgan interjected, "Let her know what's goin' on."
"Sounds good," Rick acknowledged, "Once we have more of an idea what's goin' on out there, we can come up with a strategy."
"Other than just annihilate tha' fuckers and be done with 'em?" Dwight scoffed.
"That's always an option," Rick smirked, "but we don't know how many are out there or where they're settin' up camp."
"They stick close to the dead," Morgan pointed out, "That's what keeps them safe."
"We'll keep an eye out for any herds nearby then," Rick stood and placed a hand on Morgan's shoulder, "We're gonna' handle them. I promise."
"Thank you," Morgan's tone sincere, "All of you."
"It's what you do for your family," Rick stated with a smile.
"I'm gonna' drop by the gate and check on things there before I head home," Dwight jerked his thumb in the general direction of the front gate, "Unless we need t'discuss anything else?"
"No," Rick shook his head, "We're done here."
Daryl didn't have guard duty, but knowing Beth was asleep and vulnerable in his home had him eager to get back.
"I'm gonna' head out too then," Daryl stated and turned to follow Dwight.
"Hey Daryl?" Morgan's voice caused him to pause and look over his shoulder, "Thank you for takin' care of Beth."
He stared at Morgan for a moment before giving him a firm nod and exiting the room.
It was dark outside as he made his way back to his house. Opening the front door as quietly as possible, he slipped out of his boots and ambled across the room. The lights in the kitchen were still on, illuminating the hallway enough for him to see that his bedroom was still closed off from the rest of the house. He placed his hand on the brass knob to his room, slowly twisting it, and opened the door. Beth was still sound asleep, lying in the same position she had been when he'd left her. Gently shutting the door, he grabbed a tattered blanket out of the linen closet in the bathroom, shut off the lights, and headed for the couch.
Slipping off his shirt, opting to leave his jeans on in case Beth woke up during the night, he settled on the couch. Placing his arm behind his head, staring up at the ceiling, he replayed everything Morgan had told them. The discussion had been both disturbing and informative. Seeing Morgan just as anxious as Beth made Daryl feel that perhaps they were underestimating how dangerous these people were. The Whisperers no longer seemed like just a bunch of desperate, deranged survivors. They were targeting Beth and Morgan. They had been following them for the past year and it was obvious they had no intention of letting go whatever grudge they held against them.
Forcing his eyes closed, Daryl inhaled deeply, trying to calm his racing thoughts. For the time being, everyone was safe, Alexandria was secure, and they were doing everything they could to prepare for whatever happened next. If those things wanted Beth and Morgan, they'd have to get through their walls and past the firing squad to reach them. He had just gotten her back and there was no way he was going to let anyone take her from him.
He would do whatever it took to keep her safe.
...
A/N: BIG SHOUT-OUT to Sarakaroline8 for the reminder that Morgan spoke to Rick about "people wearin' dead people's faces" in Season 3 Episode 12 titled Clear. Although Morgan was a little unhinged at the time, this is a clear (pun intended) breadcrumb for what's to come! Fun fact: 'Clear' aired March 3, 2013 and The Whisperers were introduced in comic issue #130.
FYI…the line Morgan says, 'And so the student becomes the master,' is a reference to Star Wars episode IV: A New Hope where Obi Wan fights Vader. The actual quote is… "When I left you, I was but the learner. Now I am the master."
Yes…if you caught it, Beth's "Oh…" was a nod to episode 4x13 'Alone' when Daryl makes an unvoiced confession at the dinner table.
Beth has saved Morgan's life from himself when they first met, The Whisperers in Port Royal, and in the woods. Thus the three times Morgan refers to in his discussion with Rick, Dwight, and Daryl.