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.
A/N: I'm a day late, but I've been working on this chapter all week (it's a pretty massive chapter) and I just couldn't get it to end the way I wanted. So rather than publishing something I wasn't happy with, I decided to sleep on it. Came back to it today and I was able to bring the chapter to a clean ending! Hope you guys enjoy it!
Also, I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who sent thoughts and prayers Nicole's way! Also I wanted to send a HUGE congratulations to Sarakaroline8 on having a beautiful, healthy baby boy!
To all my guest reviewers! You guys are absolutely amazing! I appreciate that you take the time to leave me kind words and encouragement even if you don't have an account! Also those of you who have made accounts just so you can follow my stories! I am beyond flattered and I appreciate each and every one of you beyond what you can imagine! Thank you all so much!
...
The woods were far too quiet for Daryl's taste. Even the chirping of the crickets and buzzing of fireflies were absent in the eerie expanse of trees surrounding them. His back ached, the muscles in his arms burned, but he refused to wake Beth. He wanted to believe that they were a safe distance from the school, that they wouldn't run into any more trouble before reaching his bike, but he knew that Lady Luck had never been very fond of the Dixon men. Should things go south, like the inevitably always did, he wanted Beth to be in a better condition than when they left the school. He had practically thrown her over the fence and then dragged her through the woods. He could tell she was doing her best not to stumble, but the sensation of her tightening her grip or tugging on his arm wasn't lost on him.
While things hadn't gone exactly as he'd planned, he was relieved to find Michonne. Granted she had been slightly unhinged at seeing Beth alive and walking, especially since the Whisperers had become an issue, but he was comfortable with Michonne. Before Alexandria, once Michonne had chosen to give up her pursuit of The Governor and reside within the prison on a permanent basis, the two of them had made plenty of the supply runs together. He was familiar with how she moved and reacted. If things got bad, she was in charge of the oncoming while he covered their backs. He was always sure to maintain a five foot distance from her, to avoid being clipped by her katana, and he was in charge of keeping track of an escape route should they become overwhelmed. They had a system and it worked.
"So how did you know?" Michonne's voice interrupted his thoughts.
They hadn't spoken much since leaving the school. Neither of them had ever been much for conversation and Daryl had been concentrating more on their surroundings than he had about wanting to catch up with his old supply run partner.
"Know what?" He groused, voice hoarse from exertion.
"That she'd lost her memory," Michonne elaborated.
"She didn't recognize me," Daryl revealed, "Or Rick, Judith, Carol. She didn't even know her last name."
"But she knew her first?" He could see the white of Michonne's eyes cut to him through the dark.
"From her grave marker," Daryl murmured.
"Ah," he heard her exhale, "How did she survive on her own? It had to have taken months to heal from something like that."
"She whadn't alone," Daryl glanced over his shoulder to the mop of blonde tresses, "Rick's friend, Morgan, he found 'er."
"I've met him," Michonne's voice wavered, "If my memory serves me correctly, he wasn't exactly in the right frame of mind to be takin' care of another human being, much less one as wounded as Beth."
"I'd never met him 'fore they showed up at tha' gates," Daryl tightened his grip around Beth's thighs, attempting to subtly lift her higher on his back.
Silence fell between them and Daryl focused on the crunching of leaves under their feet.
Michonne had continued at point, leading them through the woods, as she was more familiar with the territory. While others may have felt as if they were blindly traipsing through the woods, Daryl's keen sense of direction told him that they were slowly circling back towards the main road into The Kingdom.
"What did she mean," Michonne spoke up once more, "when she said she was numb?"
Daryl cleared his throat.
Beth had told him of her 'condition' in confidence. He knew she didn't one hundred percent trust Michonne, as it was safe to be wary of anyone you didn't know nowadays, and he wasn't willing to risk breaking the carefully built trust that had formed between them just to satisfy Michonne's curiosity.
"You'd have to ask her 'bout it," Daryl replied, "Ain't my business t'tell."
Michonne stopped walking and turned to look at him.
Daryl felt as if she was searching for something, but he wasn't sure what exactly. He was hunched forward slightly, making him eye level with her, and it was all he could do to appear unfazed. Daryl had been told that his gaze was intense, intimidating even, but he doubted any of those people had been on the receiving end of one of Michonne's scowls.
"What?" Daryl huffed when the katana wielder only continued to stare.
He watched her as she tilted her head while her eyes slowly drifted to Beth, whose head was peeking over his shoulder, before returning to continue staring at him silently. Daryl was just about to utter something that would most likely sound uncouth when Michonne smiled.
Smiled.
Daryl's eyebrows quirked as he tried to decipher exactly what it was that had made her smile so widely. Then, as if the entire exchange had never happened, Michonne turned around and resumed trekking through the woods, leaving a very confused Daryl in her wake.
"What tha' fuck was that about?" He cursed under his breath.
When Michonne made no indication of slowing down, Daryl was forced to abandon his thoughts and refocus on their surroundings. They were still in the middle of the woods, possibly being followed by walkers and Whisperers, and Daryl needed to keep his sense sharp. Whatever caused Michonne's erratic behavior would have to be revisited at a later time, when their lives weren't in danger and Beth wasn't out cold on his back.
...
Beth awoke feeling sluggish. While pain wasn't a sensation she was able to ascertain, exhaustion and lethargy were a different story. She blinked her eyes several times, trying to make them adjust to the darkness, and realized that she was moving even though she couldn't feel the ground beneath her feet. For a moment she panicked, thinking her legs were still numb, until she felt the firm hold around her thighs. Inhaling, she breathed in a familiar scent that helped ease her mind while she slowly pieced together her current situation.
Lifting her head, her sight was filled with strands of long, brown hair that settled upon a leather vest.
"You awake back there?" Daryl's hushed tone reached her ears.
Beth tried to reply, finding her throat raw and scratchy from the damp, night air, and only managed a cough. Covering her mouth, muffing the sound as much as possible, she took a deep breath and replied, "Yeah. I'm gettin' there."
"How're you feelin'?" Daryl asked quietly.
Beth wiggled her toes within her boots, rolled her ankles in a circular motion, and then swung her legs gently swung her legs to and fro.
"I'm good," she answered when her body followed her commands, "You can set me down now."
Daryl stopped walking and she felt herself sliding down his back. She was a bit unsteady when she landed on her feet, using his shoulder for support, but after shaking her legs out several times she was able to stand securely on her own.
There was a sound behind them and Beth gripped her hand instinctively before remembering she had removed her machete. Her left hand raced to her holster and she had her gun up, hammer cocked, and aimed over Daryl's shoulder within seconds.
Michonne stepped out of the darkness wordlessly; her katana glinting off the beams of moonlight shining down through the trees.
Beth hesitated a moment, her eyes traveling to Daryl who gave her a nod, before she lowered her gun.
"Where are we?" She asked, holstering her gun and scanning the woods.
"The main road is through that clearing," Michonne answered, pointing in the direction she was referring to with her katana, "I have a vehicle parked nearby."
"I parked my bike 'ah mile or two from tha' gate," Daryl said while removing his crossbow from across his chest and replacing the strap over his shoulder.
"I've got a vehicle parked closer," Michonne stated, "We can all fit and I can drop you two off when we reach your bike."
Beth could hear the exchange taking place between them, but her eyes were fixed on the trees. The only noise she could hear were Daryl and Michonne's voices and the occasional breeze blowing through the trees. The branches of the trees cast odd shadows in the dim light of the moon and only seemed to fuel her paranoia. Slowly, careful not to make any sudden moves, she removed her machete from where she had strapped it onto her backpack and slid the brace up her arm. She felt better once she had secured the brace around her arm, but only marginally. The wooded area was too big and she felt vulnerable in comparison.
"Aright," she heard Daryl continue, "Beth?"
"Yeah?" She murmured, acknowledging him without ever taking her eyes off the trees behind them.
"Are you good?" He asked, "If ya' need to rest 'ah bit more-"
"No," Beth interjected; eyes darting from tree to tree as if something were about to jump out and attack them, "We should go."
"Follow me," Michonne ordered and crept towards the clearing.
Beth followed close behind with Daryl on her heels. When they reached the edge of the woods, Beth could hear her heart pounding in her ears. Adrenaline surged through her veins. They were on the opposite side of the road from the woods they had cut through when they had arrived the night before, but the ominous feeling remained the same.
"Something's off," Beth hissed as her boots 'clacked' across the cracked asphalt.
"Keep moving," Michonne shot back, shoulders tense and katana poised.
Beth glanced over her shoulder to find Daryl, crossbow raised, and eyes darting every which way.
She found solace in the fact that she wasn't the only one sensing the threat hidden from their view. She tried to rationalize that they should be safer here as a majority of the Whisperers were probably at the school, mingling with the herd, but Beth knew better. The Whisperers were clever. They could ambush a person without them ever knowing they were there. They'd set traps that would steer their victims in the direction they wanted. The moment it felt safe, they would strike.
They dashed across the main road, continuing down a side street before slowing their pace as they approached a group of vehicles. It was obvious which one belonged to Michonne, as it still had all of its doors and wheels intact, but Beth had no intention of letting her guard down until they were safe within the walls of Alexandria.
Beth opened the rear door to the charcoal grey SUV and slid across the bench seat. Daryl took the front passenger side while Michonne sat behind the steering wheel. There was a moment of silence, a false sense of security, and then Beth realized that the car hadn't been started.
"The keys," Michonne's quiet tone sent chills down Beth's skin, "They're missing."
"Shit," Daryl cursed.
"Get out of tha' car," Beth nearly shouted, already reaching for the door, "It's a trap! Get out of tha' car!"
The first walker exited the tree line across from the vehicle. Several more followed soon after, but there was something different about them. Their faces were decayed, their clothes covered in streaks of black and reddish-brown stains, but Beth could see the healthy skin peeking through the tattered material.
"Whisperers," Beth spat.
"I can hotwire tha' car," Daryl's rough voice barely reached her ears as he joined them on the driver's side of the SUV.
"We'll cover you," Michonne replied and unsheathed her katana.
Beth's eyes connected with his for a brief moment before he turned and began tearing into the paneling underneath the steering wheel.
Stepping forward to stand next to Michonne, they waited for the 'walkers' to drop their façade. The 'corpses' stopped at the edge of the asphalt, keeping the road between them, and it was then that Beth heard their hushed tones.
"That's her," one of them whispered.
"Blonde hair and scarred face," another agreed.
"We bring her back alive," a third added, "the others we don't need."
They were outnumbered and she only had a split second to make a decision. She knew that just the two of them would never be able to hold off twelve Whisperers without at least one of them getting to Daryl. She had to even the odds a bit. The moment they stood straighter, Beth wasted no time pulling her gun from her holster and making sure three of them wouldn't be able to reanimate. Her fourth shot missed her target's forehead, striking them in the shoulder instead, as they began to scatter. She still had four rounds left, but with everyone scattered, she couldn't get a clear shot. Quickly putting her gun away, she braced herself for the Whisperers rushing towards them. While some had leapt away from the gunfire, turning back into the woods to use the trees for cover, others had charged in their direction. She knew they were on borrowed time, as any walkers in the vicinity would be attracted to the ruckus they'd created, but she surmised that if Daryl didn't get the car running within the next few minutes, the undead would be the least of their problems.
Beth didn't wait around to see what Michonne was going to do, meeting a Whisperer in the middle of the road and using her momentum to thrust her machete straight into their abdomen. Using her shoulder to pull her blade back out, she moved on to the next masked attacker. She'd heard the Whisperers intentions when it came to her life. She had a better chance of disposing of them than Michonne or Daryl. The Whisperers would aim to kill both of them, but Beth? Their leader wanted her alive.
She swung her machete upwards, slicing clean through an arm grasping as her shoulder. There was a bloodcurdling scream and Beth swung again, her blade silencing the wail as the Whisperers head fell from their neck. Blood spurted profusely from the body as it fell to its knees, splattering Beth's face, arms, and saturating her clothing, before it fell forward onto the ground in a puddle of crimson. She could see Michonne out of the corner of her eyes, hacking at anyone that came near her with her katana. Between the two of them, they had taken out eight of the dozen or so assailants. With no one in her immediate area, she took a step closer to Daryl, and she spared a glance to make sure nothing was coming from the other side of the vehicle behind them. With the area behind the SUV still clear, Beth turned her attention back to the handful of Whisperers still attacking them. She had lost track of one of them in the woods, two were fighting with Michonne, and Beth looked around for the fourth masked figure. Taking another step back, eyes darting from side to side, Beth took a steadying breath and flexed her fingers that had been tightly gripping the handle of her machete.
She was nearly to the edge of the road when the air was pressed from her lungs. Two arms had wrapped around her so tightly, she was finding it hard to breath. Her back cracked several times from the force the arms were exerting on her body and her ribs felt like they were about to snap. She had been lifted off the ground, her feet kicking every which way trying to find purchase on something, and her arms were immobile from within the hold on her. She heard herself let out a breathless whimper, her vision was beginning to swim, and it was all she could do to suck in even the tiniest bit of air. When her surroundings began to change, she realized it had nothing to do with not being able to breath, and that she was being dragged away from the SUV. A new burst of adrenaline flooded her system as panic set in and knowing she couldn't let herself be taken, she tried to recall everything Morgan had ever taught her that would help in her situation.
Sucking in as much air as she could, she grit her teeth together and threw her head back with all the strength she could muster. She wasn't sure what she made contact with, but her head hit so hard that her neck popped and she saw little black dots everywhere she looked. She was instantly dropped to the ground, landing in a heap, and she blinked her eyes trying to clear her vision. Pushing herself off of the ground, she sought after her attacker, finding them a few feet away clutching at their face as blood spilled from beneath the mask.
"Stupid bitch," came the nasally insult, "I don't care what Alpha said. You're gonna' die here tonight!"
The man was easily an entire foot taller than Beth and probably weighed twice as much as she did. He could easily overpower her if he was to get his hands on her again. She had to end this quickly. Her eyes darted from side to side and she realized she had been taken much farther than she anticipated. She was in the woods and she could see the road in front of her, but the Whisperer blocked her path. She had to get past him, onto the road, where she'd have a better chance of getting Daryl's attention. If she called for him now, she wasn't sure he'd be able to pinpoint her exact location within the wooded area. There was also the possibility that once she screamed, her opponent would likely keep her from being able to do so again.
If she was sure he didn't have a gun, she would just take off running, but that wasn't a risk she was willing to take. If she could get enough distance between them, she could use her own pistol and end the fight. However, there were too many trees for him to hide behind and bullets were hard to come by nowadays. Then there was the fact that, assuming he didn't have a gun of his own, she didn't want to be close enough that he could overpower her and put one of her own bullets between her eyes. Of all the ways to die, having her gun taken from her and used against her was not the way she wanted to go. That only left her with one option. Getting into a defensive stance, she reevaluated her surroundings, calculating which strikes she would make and which trees she would use for cover. All she had to do was reverse their positions without him realizing what she was doing and make for the road.
"I took out Alpha's brother," Beth sneered, feeling more confident with having formulated a plan, "What makes you think you can kill me?"
Morgan had taught her that if a fight was unavoidable and civil conversation wasn't an option, she had to do whatever she could to get into her aggressors head; make them angry. He'd told her that anger affected a person's ability to think rationally. When rational thought was no longer a factor, people would begin making mistakes, reveal too much information, or even leave themselves open to an attack. All she had to do was bide her time and find the opening.
"I'm going to break your legs so you can't run, then I'm going to remove your fingers…one by one. You'll probably pass out from the pain so I'll have to wait on snapping your arms," she couldn't see his face from under the mask, but she could imagine the sick grin he had plastered on his face, "Then, when you're screaming and begging for me to kill you, I'm going to skin you alive."
Beth felt herself cringing internally. She knew that every word he had said wasn't just an idle threat. If he got his hands on her, he was going to make good on his verbal illustration. Grinding her teeth together, she swallowed dryly and forced herself not to tremble.
"Sounds like a lovely time," she hoped her voice didn't quiver, "but sadly, that's just not going to work out the way you're imagining."
The Whisperer took a step forward and Beth slid one foot back, but didn't give him any ground.
"Oh yeah?" He chuckled humorlessly, "And why's that?"
Beth dug the toe of her boots into the ground, placing all of her weight on the balls of her feet.
"For one," she replied steadily, "I can't feel pain."
She recognized the change in his stance, waiting for her moment.
"And for two," she inhaled deeply, "You're the one dying today."
Then he lunged at her, just as she had predicted, and Beth leapt to the right and rounded a tree a few feet away. Not waiting to see if he'd recovered, she maneuvered through the thicket and was almost to the ditch when she felt a sharp tug and was flung backwards. Swinging blindly behind her as she fell, her machete barely grazed the skin of his bicep, causing the man to release his hold on her shirt. Scrambling to her feet, she burst out of the woods and into the grassy trench next to the road.
"DARYL!" She managed to shout before she was tackled from behind.
She was pressed into the ground, her mouth breathing in dirt, and then she was suddenly staring up towards the sky. She sliced her blade through the air, aiming for the man's throat from where he was leaning over her, but he caught her brace and pinned her arm above her head. She made a fist and swung her other hand, hoping to land a blow to his face, but he caught her wrist in the same manner. She kicked and squired, trying to get away, but it was futile. Her arms were pinned to the ground and she could no longer move her legs from where he'd sat his weight on her thighs.
"DARYL!" She screamed louder.
"Now, now," the Whisperer scolded, "Let's not do that again."
Beth could smell the decayed mask and felt bile rising to the back of her throat. She had every intention of yelling again until she felt the cold sensation of a blade pressed against her jugular.
"We don't want anyone interfering, do we?" The man continued, "I have promises to keep."
Beth pressed her eyes shut and twisted her torso, trying desperately to break free, until the pressure against her throat made it hard to breath.
"Gutsy one, aren't ya'?" He teased, "I'm going to enjoy this."
Beth opened her eyes and stared straight into the hollowed out eye sockets of the walker mask. Brown, callous eyes stared back at her. They were nothing like the warm blue ones she had begun to admire. She'd had plenty of 'close calls' in her three years with Morgan, but none of them had ever been like this. She'd always had Morgan with her and he'd always managed to get them to safety or vice versa. She'd never been alone. She'd always been able to fight her way out. She'd always survived.
"You know what the best thing about the world going to shit has been?" The voice above her took on a whimsical tone, "I get to do whatever I want to pretty girls like you and there's no one that can stop me."
The blade slowly slid away from her neck, across her collarbone, and down the material of her shirt.
"I've found it interesting to see just how far I can go before my victim bleeds out," he elaborated, "There's so much screaming and crying and begging. It gets old."
Beth knew what was coming. She felt the blade tracking down her stomach, catch the hem of her flannel shirt, and slide back up to expose her flesh. There was pressure on her hip followed by warmth streaming over her skin.
"You though?" She could tell by the look in his eyes that he was smiling, "You really can't feel pain can you?"
Beth refused to cower. Blinking her eyes, willing away the tears forming in her eyes, she tightened her jaw and glared at the man above her. She had felt truly terrified a few times, namely the two occasions Morgan had been on the verge of death, but this was something completely different. She was powerless to stop this man from doing whatever he wanted and she was completely alone. Regardless of how scared she was, she wouldn't give this monster the satisfaction of seeing her cry. If she was going to die, she was going to do so staring straight into the eyes of her murderer.
The knife he was holding came into view and Beth could see shiny, crimson liquid coating one side of the blade. A droplet fell, landing on her check, and slid down into her ear.
"You didn't even wince," the Whisperer murmured, "Fascinating."
The knife disappeared from view once more and she could feel the tip of his against her shoulder. Beth knew she needed to get away. She couldn't give up. Morgan was waiting for her to come back and Daryl…she had seen what he'd looked like when she first arrived at Alexandria. Carol had told her, during one of her visits to the med bay, that Daryl had never been the same after they'd lost her. That losing her had nearly broken him. Beth may not have remembered what Daryl was to her before, but he was important to her now. He'd been one of the first people she'd come to trust other than Morgan. Being with Daryl made her feel things she'd never experienced before. She wasn't ready to lose that.
Thrusting her hips upwards and twisting her arms, she tried to break free. She could feel the grasp around her hands slipping and she writhed and thrashed with more force. He still had a hold of her brace, but she managed to yank her left hand free and immediately went for the gun on her hip. Ripping it from her holster, she twisted her wrist around as best she could and pulled the trigger. The bullet missed its mark, but Beth didn't let it deter her. The man had dropped his blade, opting for grabbing at her unrestrained arm, and it was all she could do just to keep the gun from his reach.
She bent her arm, firing another shot, only to have him shove it out of the way and send the bullet into the woods. Knowing she only had two bullets left, she fought to keep the gun out of reach while twisting her waist in an attempt to break free. With her attention on the gun in her hand, she missed the fist flying towards her face, and the world suddenly became unfocused. She felt disoriented, almost as if she were being spun around and around, and it felt like forever before the world finally became clear.
"Crazy bitch," the Whisperer hissed, "I'm going to tie you to a tree and then I'm going to cut your friends into little pieces while you watch. You're going to wish I had killed you here by the time I'm through with them. Then I'm going to start on you."
One of his hands was still holding her machete while the other was latched around her throat. She wasn't sure what had happened to her gun, but it was no longer in her grasp. Digging her nails into the skin of his wrist, she tried to pry his hand away from her throat. Her lungs were burning and her eyes were watering. She couldn't breathe. She kicked her legs and swung her fist at anything she could reach, but his hold was relentless.
"I'm going to start with the chick and once I'm finished with her, I'll move on to your little male companion. You two seem pretty close," the man's words barely reached her as she continued to fight, "He seems quite fond of you. He even left the safety of your walls to get you and that bastard you've been travelling with."
Beth felt herself growing weak. She was barely able to lift her arm and she couldn't find the strength to keep kicking her feet. She gasped for air that wouldn't come and tears spilled from her eyes. She was beginning to lose consciousness, her eyes barely able to focus on the decayed mask above her. Then there was a noise and the pressure around her throat ceased. She was barely able to recognize the heavy weight lying on top of her as her lungs filled with oxygen.
"Beth," a voice called to her.
She felt like she was going to be sick.
"Beth," she heard her name once more and the weight covering her disappeared.
Rolling to her side, she coughed violently, greedily sucking in air only to have it forcefully extracted from her body.
"Shit," she recognized the voice, "Just breath. Keeping breathing. There ya' go."
When she was finally able to inhale deeply without triggering another fit, Beth tried to sit up. Her body was weak and her arms trembled under her weight.
"I got ya'," warm hands helped guide her into a seated position.
Looking up from the ground, she was met with concerned blue eyes. She opened her mouth to try and speak, but the only noise she made was a cracked whimper before the tears clouded her vision.
"He's dead," Daryl said softly, "You're safe."
She nodded, but the tears continued to fall.
She'd never been so close to death before. She'd never felt the life draining from her body as she desperately clung to her consciousness. She'd never felt so helpless in what little of her life she could remember.
She felt a hand slide around to her back and Beth leaned into his hold.
"I tried t'fight him," she choked out as Daryl's other hand wrapped around her.
"I know," Daryl shushed into her hair.
"He was so much bigger than me. Stronger than me," she mumbled brokenly.
"I know," Daryl repeated.
"I thought I was gonna' die," her throat was raw and protested each word she spoke.
"You're safe now," Daryl's hold on her tightened.
Beth wasn't sure how long she stayed there crying while Daryl held her, but when the tears finally subsided and she had regained her composure, she glanced towards the body resting next to them. He was lying on his back, with his head slightly facing towards them, and dull brown eyes stared blankly through the eye sockets of the mask. Any of his other features were lost under the decaying flesh covering his skin, but what held Beth's attention was the familiar bolt protruding from the man's temple.
"My pistol," she whispered hoarsely when she was finally able to form a coherent thought.
Daryl must have understood her fragmented thought, pulling away from her, and searching the grass for her weapon. A few moments later, he was crouched in front of her, tucking her gun into its holster and taking her hands within his own.
"C'mon," Daryl stood, pulling her to her feet, "Michonne's waitin' at the car."
Turning away from the dead body, Beth looked up at him and gave him a slight nod. She followed behind him as he gently lead her away from the corpse of the man that had nearly taken her life. She stared down at their hands where their fingers intertwined. Her knuckles were white from where she held onto him, barely visible beneath the grime and blood covering them, and she forcibly made herself relax.
They walked the short distance in silence and when they finally reached the running vehicle, Daryl helped her removed her machete before ushering her into the back seat of the SUV. Daryl and Michonne held a quiet conversation outside of the driver's side door, their voices below a whisper, but Beth couldn't find it within herself to try and listen regardless. Then Daryl was moving around the vehicle, climbing into the passenger seat, and they began accelerating down the road. The ride was just as silent as the walk to the car and every so often, Daryl would glance back at her. Her eyes would meet his for a moment, then flicker back to stare out of the windshield. They continued this way until Daryl finally broke the silence surrounding them.
"Bike's right past that sign," he gestured to the opposite side of the road.
The SUV slowly crept to a stop and Daryl hopped out of the vehicle.
"Wait here," he said to her in the back seat, "Lemme' make sure no one's screwed with my bike."
She nodded and watched him move around the SUV to pull his bike out from where he'd concealed it between two vehicles. He leaned it on its kickstand, squatting next to it and running his hands over the intricate parts under the gas tank. He then stood, opened her door, and motioned for her to exit the vehicle.
"We'll meet you in Alexandria," he said to Michonne who'd rolled down her window, "You know which roads t'steer clear of?"
"Yes," Michonne replied, "Drive safe."
"You too," Daryl replied and turned towards his bike.
Beth watched Michonne slowly begin to drive away. Then Daryl was moving, placing his crossbow on its makeshift holster, sitting on his bike, and offering Beth a hand so she could sit behind him. She took it, swinging her leg over the seat and positioned herself on the back of the cushion, and that's when she noticed them; the scars.
She had seen them a while back, when she'd finally broken down and told him everything about the Whisperers, but she hadn't felt it was any of her business. Things were different now. She trusted Daryl as much as she trusted Morgan. She wanted to know more about it. If her latest run in with the Whisperers had reminded her of anything, it was just how short life could be and how abruptly it would come to an end. She knew how defensive she felt about her own scars, regardless of the fact that she didn't remember how she'd acquired them, and hesitated in asking. Morgan had always said she'd been too curious for her own good, but she reasoned that Daryl knew more about her than she knew about herself and therefore she was entitled to a few questions. If he chose not to disclose the information, Beth would never bring up the subject again and let him tell her in his own time.
"I saw…in your bedroom…," she rasps hoarsely, tracing her fingers over the scar peeking out from underneath the edges of his sleeveless shirt and vest, "What happened?"
Daryl didn't immediately reply, turning to look at her over his shoulder, and then returning his gaze in front of them.
"You don't have to tell me if you don't wanna'," Beth added when the silence stretched into awkwardness.
"Nah, it's jus'," he cleared his throat, "My dad was 'ah drunk. He got real bad after my mom passed away and liked t'take things out on my brother. When Merle left and joined tha' military, it was just me. I moved out first chance I got."
His explanation was vague, but it was enough for Beth. She had a very muddled concept on what a 'family' was supposed to be, having only had Morgan for the entirety of what she could remember, and he had always taken care of her to the best of his ability. The idea that the one person Daryl should have been able to depend on had left the jagged scars she'd seen on his back enraged her.
"Did he make it?" Beth tried to keep the venom from her voice, "Your dad? Did he survive?"
"No," Daryl answered, "We got attacked by some walkers when the virus first broke out. We were on 'ah hunting trip with my Uncle Jess. There whadn't anything left of him by tha' time me and Jess finally got them off of him."
"Good," Beth replied callously.
Had Morgan been with them, he would have been scolding her for finding satisfaction in someone's demise, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She firmly believed that people got what they deserved and if the scars on Daryl's back were anything to go by, his father's death was warranted.
"It's not so bad anymore," Daryl informed her, "I've made peace with it."
"How so?" Beth placed her hand flat against his back.
"Found 'ah book about it," Daryl explained, "Helped sort some things out."
"I'm sorry that happened to you," Beth replied sincerely.
"Everyone goes through shit at some point or another," Daryl shrugged, "We should get goin'."
"Yeah," Beth agreed.
Wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek in between his shoulder blades, Beth suddenly felt very tired. Their trip to The Kingdom had been far more than they had bargained for, but they had the answers they needed. The Kingdom had been abandoned and Michonne could give them more details once they were safe within Alexandria's walls. The Whisperers were far more organized than she had ever anticipated. The fact that they had been able to infiltrate The Kingdom completely undetected meant that the same could happen in Alexandria or Hilltop. The idea that one of them could already be amongst the community was terrifying.
As the motorcycle roared to life, Beth relished in the way the wind fanned through her hair, letting her worries fade into the cool night air. She inhaled deeply, breathing in the familiar scent of pine and oil, causing her throat to burned from the endeavor. She was sure she would have a nasty bruise in the morning, but she was alive thanks to Daryl. Closing her eyes and tightening her hold around his waist, she felt him shift, and then one of his hands was covering the both of hers. He gave her a reassuring squeeze and she relaxed against him. She had a feeling that things would get much worse before The Whisperers were dealt with, but for now, all Beth wanted to do was close her eyes and nestle into the warmth of Daryl's back.
With Morgan's condition, she knew they could no longer run from them and she was tired of constantly looking over her shoulder. They had a better chance of survival residing in Alexandria and there was comfort in the fact that it was no longer her and Morgan against the world. She trusted Daryl and she would have to put her faith in his group's ability to handle the monsters hiding in the woods.
She just hoped having a little faith wouldn't get them all killed.
…
A/N: Jess Collins is from the game The Walking Dead: Survival Instinct. He is the half-brother of Will Dixon and half-uncle to Merle and Daryl Dixon (TWD Wikipedia).
The book I'm referring to at the end of this chapter is the same book Daryl finds in season 5 ep. 6 "Consumed" while searching with Carol for Beth.
The very last line of this chapter is a play on Beth telling Daryl, "Wouldn't kill ya' to have a little faith," in season 4 episode 10 "Inmates."
Sooo...pretty action packed chapter! Hope you guys liked it! Let me know what you thought! XOXO