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.
An extra special thank you to my awesome BETA Nicole for looking over this and supporting/encouraging me to keep going even though life and work have taken so much of my writing time! Also thank you to Sarakaroline8 for reading over this and ensuring me that I haven't lost my touch! You both are amazing!
A/N: So I'm still alive! This chapter took so much longer than I anticipated to get posted, but I finally got it done! Between working in the classroom and the work I have to do after school, plus finding time to write, spend time with my kiddos, and enjoy down-time for myself; there just haven't been enough hours in the day! I would like to post every 2 weeks, but I just don't think that's feasible with schedule, SO! I'm planning on posting once a month, on the LAST SUNDAY of that month. That gives me plenty of time to get work/writing/down-time/family time taken care of without neglecting any of them. So look for another update on November 29th and I hope you enjoy this chapter! It was a beast to write!
...
Beth swung her arm and lodged the blade of her forearm machete into a wooden post that Daryl had constructed for her to use in their makeshift training facility. She was still careful not to pull at the wound on her side, but it had scabbed over several days ago and there were already traces of newly formed skin underneath. The steady rhythm of someone striking a punching bag could be heard from the back of the room and there was a man and woman having a quiet conversation while they lifted weights across from her. The training facility was that of an unfinished house, as the few frames of what would have been interior walls lacked insulation or dry wall, and there were gaping, rectangular spaces along the outside of the building, devoid of glass panes, that allowed a slight breeze to flow through the building. Yanking her blade free, she wiped her brow with her unused hand, glared at the wooden post, and swung once more.
It had been nearly a week since their radio conference about the Whisperers with the Hilltop colony and she'd only seen Daryl and Morgan a handful of times since. They would come to her with inquiries during which Morgan had been unconscious for in their first altercation with the Whisperers, but for the most part, she had been left to her own devices. She had been asked to attend their meetings, they'd even sought her out several times to ask specific strategic questions, but Beth wasn't a strategist. She'd had her moments where she'd been able to devise a plan that kept them alive, but she preferred to follow Morgan's lead. The world they lived in now might have been the only one she remembered, but he'd still 'lived' in it longer than she had. She trusted his judgment and experience more than her own. The idea of someone losing their life because of a plan she implemented wasn't something she wanted on her conscience. Thus, she chose to keep her skills as sharp as her blade, using the time they were sitting idle, planning strategies for hypothetical situations, to train with her machete and try to build her endurance. While being left alone wouldn't have bothered Beth before reconnecting with the people of her past, she was surprised with herself at how…lonely she'd felt throughout the week.
She could count on one hand the number of words she exchanged with Daryl the past few days, having not seen him at all in the last twenty-four hours, and Beth felt an uneasiness growing in her stomach. Beth wasn't knowledgeable when it came to having relationships and with everything happening with the Whisperers, they hadn't been able to sort out where they stood after their exchange in his bathroom. She'd at least seen Morgan every day, having moved all of her belongings back to the house they shared in order to help him grow accustomed to his new lifestyle. He'd been struggling with having only one arm, wearing a rigged prosthetic that Eugene had manufactured to aide him until they could make a trip to Hilltop where Carl could get his measurements for the weaponized arm Daryl had mentioned all those weeks ago. There had been several times she'd see him attempt to open a door or reach out to pat her on the head, only to have the stub of his arm freeze in mid-air. There were even times where she would catch him massaging his limb, claiming he felt a burning sensation in the portion of his arm that had been amputated from his body. Dr. Hudson had said it was 'normal,' something he referred to as 'phantom limb pain,' and it should go away in due time. Beth knew it was going to be just as much of an adjustment for her, as she would need to be more aware of Morgan and his capabilities when they were outside of the walls to ensure he stayed out of harm's way. However every time he attempted to use the arm he no longer had or pain crossed his features, Beth felt her resentment grow.
Lashing out with her machete, removing a chunk of cedar from the post, Beth grit her teeth and exhaled harshly. She was angry, frustrated, confused, and so tired of the Whisperers constant, looming presence. They were always at the forefront of her mind and now that everyone finally understood just how dangerous they were, with The Kingdom's downfall, they were the topic of every conversation she'd had the past week.
"What'd that post ever do to you?" The snarky question came from behind her.
Beth huffed, blowing the loose strands of her braid out of her face, and yanked her machete free from the battered cedar trunk. Tilting her head from side to side, relieving some of the tension in her shoulders, she turned to face her visitor.
"What d'you want?" Beth blinked as a droplet of sweat cascaded into her eye.
"Came to check on you," Michonne answered curtly; crossing her arms as her eyes dropped to the barely visible bruise that still lingered around Beth's neck.
"'M fine," Beth stated and turned back to the wooden post while grumbling under her breath, "not that it should matter t'you."
Beth hadn't spoken with Michonne since they had arrived back in Alexandria. She'd had indirect words with her during the few meetings she'd attended, but for the most part, Beth had steered clear of the katana wielder. Her first encounter with the older woman had left quite an impression on her and while Daryl and everyone else openly trusted and valued Michonne's opinion, Beth was still leery of her.
Flexing her fingers around the grip of her brace, trying to shrug off the intensity of Michonne's stare, Beth breathed in deeply and widened her stance in preparation to land another strike against her makeshift target. Swinging her arm forward, yanking it free, and then landing a backhanded slice against the wood did nothing to quell the irritation flickering inside of her. The longer Michonne stood there, watching, the more annoyed Beth became. Cedar splinters littered the ground as Beth slowly hacked away at her wooden enemy. She continued landing strike after strike, rearing back and throwing her weight into each swing until she finally sliced the post in half. The training facility grew deathly quiet as the dismembered half of the cedar trunk thudded to the ground. Leaning over to rest her hands on her knees, mindful of the blade still latched to her arm, she watched the droplets of sweat drip from her chin to leave circular stains on the concrete flooring. Willing the numbness out of her legs, she slowed her breathing, and sluggishly raised herself to stand on unsteady feet.
"I said I'm fine," Beth repeated as she glared over her shoulder in the direction of where Michonne still stood.
"Don't look fine to me," came Michonne's brisk remark.
Beth half turned and queried, "What does it matter t'you anyway?"
Michonne uncrossed her arms and looked Beth over from head to toe.
Beth stood tall, refusing to shift under the older woman's scrutiny, and waited for Michonne's reply.
"We didn't get the best…reacquaintance," Michonne stated matter-of-factly.
"And whose fault was that?" Beth inquired crudely.
There was a pause and Beth noticed several people had moved within hearing distance. Each of them huddled together in small groups, whispering amongst themselves in a tone too low for her to hear, but she knew from their furtive glances that they were discussing her and Michonne's tense interaction. The scraping of a heel against concrete brought Beth's attention back to the woman in front of her as Michonne slowly approached. Tightening her hold on the grip of her machete, she fought the urge to take a step back and reclaim the distance that had been between them.
"I've been on the opposite end of that machete," Michonne gestured towards her blade, "You've got some skill."
"Didn't have much choice but to learn how t'defend myself if I wanted to survive," Beth remarked solemnly.
Michonne stopped a few paces in front of her and seemed to be weighing the gravity of Beth's reply. Beth felt tension curling in her muscles and busied herself by counting the thrumming of her heartbeat as it thundered in her ears. Her fight or flight response was taking hold, causing her to dig her toes into the sole of her boots so that she would be ready to move in whichever direction she needed in order to evade an attack.
"I noticed when we fought that you left yourself vulnerable a couple of times," Michonne continued quietly, "If I hadn't been so exhausted, you wouldn't still be here."
"Am I supposed to thank you?" Beth's words echoed through the stillness of the room.
Michonne quirked an eyebrow as she stared down at Beth, but whatever she was thinking never made it past her lips.
There was a small crowd encircling them now and Beth's nerves were hyperaware of every voice quietly murmuring, every shift in body movement, and the invisible tension reverberating through the room.
"I've had some formal training in self-defense," Michonne finally broke the silence that had overtaken them, "I took a few classes back in college. I could teach you some moves so you'd know what to do if you ever get pinned down again."
Beth took a moment to consider her offer. She trusted Morgan…Daryl…Rick and the rest of the group had proven themselves to be trustworthy, but she wasn't sure about Michonne. She had been forced to rely on Michonne back at The Kingdom because of their situation, but they were no longer running for their lives. The fact of the matter was that Michonne had attacked her, unprovoked, and Beth was carrying a grudge. She was fully aware that the sword wielder wasn't one to be trifled with. As much as it pained her to admit, Michonne was deadly with her katana and just as the older woman had stated, it was very likely she would have slayed Beth if she'd been in a more stable state of being. Granted Beth wasn't at one hundred percent either and her condition put her at a vast disadvantage, but she'd felt how powerful the strikes against her machete had been. Michonne was one to be wary of and Beth didn't want to put herself in a compromising situation that left her at another person's mercy, even under the premise of 'training.' Morgan had put her through hell teaching her how to survive and it was his instruction that had kept her alive the past few years.
"No thanks," Beth refused, "I've survived just fine on my own."
"You can't feel pain, you start going numb, and eventually your body gives out on you if you exert yourself too long," Michonne listed off on her fingers, "You have to end the fight quick, make every strike a lethal one, and end it before you collapse."
"How tha' hell d'you know about any of that?" Beth snarled heatedly.
"I talked to Morgan," Michonne answered, "I know all about your…condition."
Beth bit the inside of her cheek, tasting copper across her tongue, and glowered at the woman standing in front of her. There were so many thoughts running through her head at the moment, but she voiced the one that seemed most imperative.
"And what do you get out 'ah helpin' me?" Beth asked suspiciously.
"Forgiveness," Michonne answered flatly.
Beth narrowed her eyes, "Forgiveness?"
"I've already tried apologizing, but words have little value to someone if they don't trust the person speaking them," Michonne explained, "I'll help you refine your skills as penance for attacking you."
There was a tiny, hopeful part of Beth that wanted to believe Michonne, but she had learned the hard way that the part of her that had faith in other people was generally what got her in life-threatening situations.
"If Daryl hadn't come, I would'ah figured somethin' out," Beth tried to sound confident in her lie.
If Daryl hadn't come to help her, it was very likely that she would have taken another shot to the head in order to ensure she didn't rise from her grave.
"I don't want your help," Beth continued, forcing away her thought, "I don't need your help."
"Then prove it," Michonne countered with a shrug.
"S'cuse me?"
"Fight me and prove you don't need my help," Michonne elaborated.
"Fine," Beth huffed and reached to unhook the buckles of her brace.
"Leave it on," Michonne interrupted.
"What?" Beth's eyes snapped from her machete to Michonne.
"Your machete," Michonne gestured towards her blade, "leave it on."
"You want me to fight you with my machete?" Beth couldn't help the suspicious tone in her voice.
Michonne stepped back, causing the people around them to fan out and create large ring around them, while slowly unsheathing her katana.
"Are you crazy?" Beth spat as her heart once again started pounding in her chest, "We should use a tree limb or fight hand to hand or something other than this."
"We would do those things," Michonne began smoothly, "if we were training, but you said you didn't need any more of that."
"And I'm not going to fight you, with my machete, just to prove I don't need your help," Beth argued, "One wrong move and one of us could be killed."
"Then I suggest you don't make any 'wrong moves,'" Michonne countered with a smirk as she lowered her stance, "It's simple. If you win, I'll leave you be. If I win, you let me train you."
Beth's stomach dropped to her feet. It was obvious that she wasn't going to get out of this without a fight, but she couldn't understand Michonne's hostility. Daryl trusted her, Rick obviously respected her, and the entire community had been happy to see her when they had all arrived back from The Kingdom. Michonne was supposed to be an ally. She wasn't supposed to be attacking people, within the wall, just so she could decide whether they needed to be 'trained' or not.
"I'm not-"
The rest of Beth's statement was lost in the sound of a katana blade slicing through the air and grinding against the edge of her machete.
…
Daryl sat in Rick's chair; feet stretch out in front of him and crossed atop of Rick's desk. He was listening as Carol and Sherry discussed details about the information that had been relayed between Alexandria and Hilltop after their meeting had ended. It had been another day of talking strategy, going over everything they knew, and trying to pinpoint where the Whisperers main encampment might have been according to the direction most of the walkers had been seen. Rick had decided to pull all patrols off the roads for the time being and thus walkers had been seen roaming near the walls more frequently.
Morgan had been helpful during the strategy meetings, revealing anything and everything he knew that could aide them in determining what would be the best course of action in whichever situation, but Daryl wasn't sure they'd ever be prepared for what the Whisperers brought to them after witnessing what he had at the Kingdom. The idea that those people could take survivors from The Kingdom to use as bait to lure the herd in the direction they wanted them to maneuver made his stomach turn.
"So they still haven't gotten much out of the girl?" Carol asked quietly.
"Maggie's hasn't been able to get her to say much of anything," Sherry replied wearily, "but it seems like she's a bit more open with Carl. I think she's changing tactics and letting him interrogate her this afternoon."
Carol and Barbara's voice became a low murmur as Daryl closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the soft cushion of Rick's rolling chair. He had a slight headache from lack of sleep and he was beginning to go stir crazy from being cooped up inside the walls. He hadn't been to his deer stand in over a month and the solitude of the woods beckoned him, however he knew it was too dangerous to try and sneak out. The Whisperers were after Beth and regardless of how much he wanted to escape the confines of the walls with her; he would never endanger her life in such a way. There would be time for that after the Whisperers were no longer a threat to her or the community.
Running a hand down his face, he took a deep breath and tried to recall the last conversation he'd actually had with her. He'd been so busy with meetings, trying to find time to sleep, and making sure shifts along the wall were in order, that he hadn't been able to spend much time with Beth. She'd been invited to join all the meetings and he'd had to track her down himself a couple of times with questions Morgan didn't have the answer to, but he hadn't been able to really spend time with her since their moment at his house when they'd gotten back from The Kingdom.
Opening his eyes and staring up at the off-white ceiling of Rick's office, Daryl let his thoughts drift to where Beth might be and what she was doing while he was stuck waiting for Rick to finish talking with Carl over the radio. He'd asked Dwight to keep tabs on her, but he hadn't heard from his second-in-command since he'd reported that she had left the training facility and returned home safely last night. Almost as if his thoughts had summoned him, Dwight burst through the doors to Rick's office.
"Daryl!" Dwight's voice was slightly panicked and his chest heaved from exertion.
"Dwight?" Daryl immediately shot up from where he'd be lounging and crossed the room, "What is it?"
"Beth," Dwight huffed, bending over and bracing his hands on his knees.
"Beth?" Daryl felt his hands shaking, "What about 'er? She okay? What happened?"
"She's fine," Dwight waved one hand as he continued to gasp in air, "For tha' moment."
"What tha' fuck is that supposed t'mean?" Daryl grabbed the other man by the shoulders and forced him to stand.
"Dwight?" Sherry's concerned voice came from behind them, "What's going on?"
"Michonne and Beth are fighting," Dwight glanced over to his wife before returning his gaze to Daryl's distraught features.
"What do you mean fighting?" Carol piped in, "Like sparing? Training? What?"
"Like Michonne is swingin' her sword around an' Beth is trying t'cut her in half with her machete," Dwight rattled out quickly.
"Son of 'ah…," Daryl cursed and shoved Dwight to the side as he rushed through the door.
Daryl's legs carried him as fast as he could run through town to the unfinished home that had been repurposed to become their training facility. There was already a crowd gathered in front of the building and Daryl could hear the hissing of steel sliding against steel coming from within. He was trying to push his way through the crowd when a body flew through the doorway of the building, skidded across the dirt, and used the momentum to roll propel themselves backwards onto their feet. The crowd around them shrieked and yelled as Daryl watched the scene before him in horror.
Beth turned her head and spat dark crimson onto the ground; slowly lifting her free hand to wipe away the blood trickling down her chin. Her shirt was torn, her hair was wild, and the look on her face was that of one he'd never seen before. His gaze shifted to the building as Michonne leisurely exited through the doorway, katana hung over her shoulder, and a blank expression on her face.
"Michonne," Daryl hollered, but his voice was swallowed by the uproar of the crowd.
Shoving people aside with more force, Daryl fought his way through the throng of spectators, and just as he was about to break through, a hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him to a halt. Jerking his head to the side, Daryl was surprised to find Morgan standing next to him.
"What…," Daryl began to ask, but stopped when he noticed that Morgan's sharp gaze was focused on the two women in front of them.
Daryl turned his attention back towards Beth just in time to see her surge forward and sling her machete at Michonne's face. Daryl's stomach clenched as he was sure Beth's blade was going to make contact, but Michonne managed to block the strike with her katana.
"Why aren't you doin' anything t'stop this?" Daryl hollered over the crowd.
Beth dropped down and swung her leg across the ground, catching Michonne's right foot and making her stumble backwards. However, Michonne quickly recovered and held her blade overhead before thrusting downward to Beth's crouched form. Another spasm seized his stomach as Beth lifted her braced arm and used the metal plate along her forearm to block the blow a few inches from her face. She then jarred her arm upwards, relinquishing contact with the katana, and then made a quick swipe for Michonne's midsection. Michonne bent slightly forward and leapt herself backwards, barely escaping Beth's machete and it sliced through the material of her shirt.
Daryl grabbed Morgan's hand, intent on removing it from his shoulder and intervening in the fight, when he saw it.
"She needs this," Morgan said from behind him as they watched Beth stagger on her feet.
Michonne, recovering from Beth's attack, lunged forward and landed another strike against the brace of Beth's machete. She followed with another strike and Daryl could see how much Beth was struggling to move. She was beginning to slow, her swings weren't as powerful as they had been a moment ago, and she was no longer able to dodge any of Michonne's attacks.
Beth swayed to the right, sloppily swiping her blade toward Michonne, who easily deflected the attack. Beth's arm was flung to the side and Michonne took the opening, lifting her leg and kicking Beth squarely in the chest. The crowd split, allowing room for Beth as she rolled helplessly across the ground. Michonne moved to stand over Beth's prone form with one foot placed over her braced arm and the tip of her blade resting against the barely visible bruise on Beth's neck. Everyone had grown eerily silent and Daryl felt Morgan's hand slowly slide off of his shoulder. He pushed his way through the rest of the crowd and saw that Michonne had retracted her blade, instead holding out an open hand towards Beth.
"Looks like you and I will be spending a lot of time together," Michonne's voice came out slightly uneven from exertion.
Daryl watched Beth slowly pushed herself up on her elbows, her blue eyes shining as she glared up at the older woman. Michonne only wiggled her fingers in the air, urging Beth to take it, as a smirk formed across her lips.
After several moments, Beth let out a sigh and reached up to grasp Michonne's hand. Once Beth was on her feet, Michonne retracted her hand and gave the blond an appraising look. She then turned and Daryl knew the exact moment when she found his gaze. Scowling, he waited as Michonne approached him.
"What tha' hell was that?" Daryl grumbled crossly.
"That," Michonne began while propping a hand on her hip and lifting her chin defiantly, "was me ensuring that she'd let me give her the training she needs."
Daryl couldn't keep the sarcasm from his voice when he asked, "By sparrin' with weapons?"
"She wasn't going to be as serious if we were fighting with sticks," Michonne replied with a tilt of her head, "I couldn't determine her limits if she wasn't giving it her all."
"You should'ah known her limits from when you fought with her at The Kingdom," he proclaimed thoughtlessly.
Daryl held his glare as Michonne's expression crumbled and she closed the distance between them.
"If I had known it was really her, I never would have attacked," she hissed through clenched teeth.
Daryl bit the inside of his cheek, knowing that nothing he said could repair the damage of his tactless remark.
"You weren't the only one who lost her, ya' know?" Michonne's voice shook as she spoke.
Daryl swallowed dryly as Michonne took a step to the side and bumped her shoulder against his as she walked past him in the direction of Rick's office.
When he could no longer hear the crunch of Michonne's boots against the gravel, he managed to reply with a despondent, "I know."
He was fully aware of how important Beth had been, and still was, to everyone in their group. Michonne and Beth had gotten close a few months before the fall of the prison. He could remember several occasions where he had walked past Beth's cell and had seen Michonne sitting on the cold, concrete floor, helping her with Judith. Michonne had even started checking in with Beth before they went on supply runs to see if she needed anything in particular. To anyone else, it probably wouldn't have seemed like such an important detail, but Daryl knew Michonne. For her to seek out Beth and make sure she had everything she needed when they had an entire community to take care of showed how attached Michonne had gotten to the blonde.
Lost in his thoughts, he stood in the same place Michonne had left him, staring at the ground until a pair of familiar boots came into his line of sight.
"She's waitin' on you," Morgan's deep voice penetrated his reverie.
Daryl's eyes traveled up from the ground to glance over Morgan's shoulder.
"She's ain't in tha' best mood," Morgan warned him with a bit of mirth, "She don't take too fondly to being beat."
"Yeah," Daryl grunted, "I'm well aware 'ah how stubborn them Greene girls can be."
Morgan gave him a lopsided smile, "I s'pose you are."
With that, Morgan turned to look over at Beth before turning and patting Daryl on the shoulder, "Hopefully you have better luck with her than I did."
Daryl nodded in reply and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he made his way over to where Beth still stood.
"That Michonne's a real charmer," Beth grumbled as she unbuckled the clasps of her brace.
Her jeans were covered in dirt, her shirt was missing a few buttons and her stomach was visible through a slash in the material, but apart from the smeared blood across her chin, there didn't seem to be any major injuries.
"You okay?" He asked with a frown.
"I've had worse," she replied with a shrug as she slipped her arm out of the brace of her machete.
"Come'on," he reached out and took the blade from her, "Let's get that lip cleaned up."
He took a few steps, but stopped and half turned when he noticed Beth wasn't trailing behind him.
"You comin'?" He asked as he furrowed his brows.
Something he couldn't discern crossed her features before she eventually began moving in his direction. Daryl stole glances over his shoulder as they made their way towards his house, but Beth kept her glare trained on the ground.
Reaching the stairs to his porch, he pulled the front door open and stepped aside to allow Beth room to enter first. Placing her machete on the small coffee table in his living room, he wandered towards his bathroom where he could hear the opening and shutting of cabinets. Beth had his first aid kit sitting on the sink and was in the midst pouring alcohol onto a clean washcloth. Leaning against the door jam, he watched as she slowly wiped away the crimson residue that had discolored her skin. She had yet to speak to him and he got the impression that there was something more to her discontent than just her fight with Michonne.
"So were you in on tha' whole 'have Michonne kick my ass t'prove I can't take care of myself' plan?" Beth grumbled; meeting his gaze through the reflection of the mirror.
Daryl's eyebrows quirked in surprise, "Didn't know nothin' about it 'til I saw the two 'ah you fightin'."
She kept her eyes on him for a few more seconds before seeming to be pleased with his answer and returning her attention to her lip.
"You wanna' talk about it?" Daryl offered uncertainly.
"Nope," Beth replied straightaway.
Daryl noticed the tightening of her jaw and how the hand near her lip clenched tightly around the pink-tinged washcloth she was holding. While Beth was different in some ways, she was still the same in others. He could tell that she really did want to tell him, but she was being stubborn. Thus he decided to wait quietly and not force the subject. After a few moments, his tactic proved fruitful and Beth sighed heavily before she began rambling.
"Apparently I don't know how t'defend myself and need trainin' from the one person who tried t'kill me just 'ah few days ago," she turned on the cold water and began rinsing out the washcloth, "I refused her offer an' she refused t'take no for an answer. Then she tells me that she went t'Morgan and asked him all about my condition. She thinks she can teach me how t'end 'ah fight quick, before my body gives out, and it turns out that Morgan agreed with her. Said he thought she could 'teach me a few moves.' Didn't even bother t'ask what I wanted. Just took it upon themselves t'decide for me."
Daryl pushed off the door moved to stand closer to her. Slowly prying the washcloth from her hand, he tossed it in the sink and gently ran his thumb across the swollen area near her lip.
"Michonne hasn't survived as long as she has without gettin' good with that sword of hers," Daryl replied sagely.
Beth narrowed her eyes and took a step back, "So you don't think I can defend myself either then?"
"I never said that," Daryl refuted reclaiming his place in front of her, "I do know that you an' Michonne were pretty close before. She just wants t'make sure that any time you leave these walls, you come back in one piece."
He felt guilty, jumping to conclusions when he'd first come across Beth and Michonne fighting, but the more he pieced together through his conversations with the two women, the more he understood the motives behind the altercation. He'd have to make some sort of half-assed apology to Michonne later. For now, he wanted Beth to understand that even though he believed she could handle herself, training with Michonne could be beneficial for the both of them.
"So you think I should accept her help?" Beth inquired meekly.
"Can't hurt, can it?" Daryl countered with his own question.
Beth just glared at him, lifting a finger to point to the broken skin of her lip.
Daryl smirked, "I s'pose you might get a few scrapes and bruises, but if anyone knows how t'handle 'ah blade, it's Michonne. She'll take care of ya'."
"Fine," Beth heaved, "but I'm only doin' this because she kicked my ass and I have t'even the score."
Daryl's smirk widened into a roughish smile as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
He felt Beth lean into him before she stepped back and gave him a puzzled look, "Don't you have some meetin' you're supposed t'be at?"
"Yeah," Daryl answered roughly, "You wanna' come with me?"
Beth hesitated a moment, her eyes dancing between his, before she gave him a half smile, "Sure."
Daryl furrowed his brows as she skimmed past him, unsure of the sudden change in her attitude, and turned off the water before exiting the bathroom. Beth was waiting for him on the porch and after locking his front door, they walked side by side back towards Rick's office. His hand brushed against hers several times before he felt something warm fit against his palm. He let his eyes travel over the houses they passed, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, as he interlaced his fingers with hers.
"By the way," Beth said as they approached their destination, "I'm stayin' at your place tonight."
Daryl glanced down at her, but she kept her gaze ahead of them.
"I'm still mad at Morgan for goin' behind my back tha' way he did," she elaborated, finally looking up at him, "and I'm not in the mood t'have dinner with him and Carol tonight."
"Alright," Daryl nodded, "but Carol's 'ah pretty damn good cook."
"I know," Beth deflated a bit, "I've had her cookies."
Daryl smirked and squeezed her hand, "Aaron and Eric got back today. We could go t'his place for dinner. He wants t'meet you and it'd be as good 'ah time as any."
Beth smiled, "I'd like that."
"I'll let him know," Daryl replied, "He should be at tha' meeting."
Beth nodded and wrapped her fingers more tightly around his hand.
Daryl wouldn't ever tell her aloud, but he was glad that she had decided to take Michonne up on her offer. Their last run-in with the Whisperers was one he never wanted to experience again and if Michonne could teach her how to become more effective on the limited time she had during a fight, he would help in any way he could. Michonne was proficient with a blade and while Beth wasn't fighting with a katana; their weapons were still very similar.
Beth kept ahold of his hand as they entered the building. He greeted Sherry with a nod of his head and pushed through the double doors to Rick's office. He spotted Michonne across the room and tugged Beth in her direction. She was leaning against the wall behind Rick's desk, refusing to make eye contact with him, but he could see the tension in her muscles as they approached.
"Can I help you?" Michonne questioned coolly while looking out over the room.
"You said ya' could," Beth answered before Daryl could reply.
Michonne's eyes flashed towards Beth.
"I know you beat me t'prove a point," Beth continued, "If I ever came across someone like you outside these walls, I wouldn't stand 'ah chance."
Michonne pushed off the wall, crossing her arms in front of her while she listened to Beth.
"If you're willin' to teach me how t'fight," Beth's voice sounded steady despite the slight shake he felt in her hand, "then I'd like t'learn."
Michonne looked her over from head to toe, "Alright."
"Alright," Beth repeated.
"Meet me behind the stables tomorrow at sunrise," Michonne instructed, "We'll start with the basics."
"Okay," Beth responded concisely.
An awkward silence followed as Michonne continued to ignore him.
"I've gotta' ask Michonne somethin'," Daryl said, turning to Beth, "I'll find you soon as I'm done."
Beth glanced between the two of them, seeming to have picked up on the tension radiating between them, and gave him a quick nod. Once Beth was out of earshot, Daryl turned his attention back to Michonne.
"You wouldn't have had anything to do with her sudden change in attitude, would you?" Michonne inquired suspiciously.
"I might 'ah told her that you knew your shit and would be able t'help her," Daryl shrugged and languidly glanced around the room.
"Figured out you fucked up, huh?" He could hear the mocking tone in her voice.
"I dunno' what you're talkin' about," Daryl feigned ignorance.
"Sure," Michonne replied with a roll of her eyes.
The strain between them evaporated and they lapsed into a relaxed silence.
Daryl had always respected Michonne. They'd made a good team when they had went on supply runs together and like him, she wasn't one who cared for conversations. He'd made a mistake when he'd jumped to conclusions after he'd seen her fighting with Beth and she recognized his attempt to make things right. It wasn't an outright apology, but Michonne had forgiven his indiscretion all the same.
"I'll make sure she's never in a position like she was back at The Kingdom," Michonne informed him.
"I know," Daryl murmured in reply.
"I'll figure out a way to work around her condition," Michonne added.
"Let me know what I can do t'help," Daryl offered as his eyes scanned the room for the blonde they were discussing.
"We'll keep her safe," Michonne stated resolutely.
"I'll kill all of those bastards if that's what it takes," Daryl growled in response.
Silence resumed and Daryl found Beth standing along the back wall of the room, talking with Tara and Rosita.
"Go," Michonne insisted, "We're good."
Daryl nodded and began maneuvering around the bodies filling the room.
"Alright everyone," Rick's voice sounded from the front of the room, "I just got off the radio with Maggie."
Reaching Beth's side, she flashed him a quick smile as Rick continued, "Carl was able t'find out a bit of information from the Whisperer they've detained up at Hilltop."
Rick's tone told Daryl that whatever it was Carl had discovered; it wasn't good news.
"The girl's name is Lydia and she's about sixteen years old," Rick informed them.
"Well that doesn't seem so bad," Daryl heard Dwight say from somewhere to his left.
"She also told him that she's Alpha's daughter," Rick expressed solemnly.
Daryl looked down to Beth only to find her already staring up at him. The room erupted with people shouting questions and voicing their concerns. Morgan and Beth had given them as much information as possible about the Whisperers and their leader. Alpha was ruthless and believed that the walkers had granted them freedom from the shackles of society. Those who opposed her were either bled and turned to increase the numbers of their herd or became food for their undead army.
Beth had taken the life of her brother and the Whisperers had hunted her across the country. The Whisperers had made an example out of The Kingdom to show them that they weren't safe behind their walls. The fact that Maggie's community was holding the daughter of the Whisperer's leader hostage could only mean one thing.
Hilltop was next.
...
A/N: And there you have it! I finally get to incorporate Michonne into my story, Beth is going to become even more kick ass, and we're learning more and more about the Whisperers! I hope this was worth the wait and I'll be posting chapter 18 on November 29th! I've missed you guys! I hope you've all be doing well and thank you to all of you who messaged me, checking in, and letting me know you missed my story! I You guys are amazing!