A/N: Thank you for all the feedback, whether it's in the form of reviews or favorites and follows. I love to hear everyone's opinions. Just to clear a couple things up: there will be only one flashback in this story, and it goes back to before the apocalypse ever even happened. I respect the writers and don't feel qualified enough to figure out what they've got in mind for the rest of this season. Also, yes, Beth and Daryl are together. That will become abundantly clear in this chapter.
For disclaimer, see chapter 1.
Later that night, Beth was attempting to make something appetizing out of the scavenged mushrooms and berries and a can of chickpeas they'd found in the corner of one of the cabinets. "Mushroom-chickpea stew, with wild berry compote for dessert," she declared, setting bowls and spoons down in front of Daryl and Judith. Rick and Carl had not yet returned, but that wasn't unusual; raids sometimes took a full day or two.
"Mind if I join in on the festivities?" Michonne tapped gently on the open door, her trademark katana slung across her shoulders.
"There's plenty," Beth said, grabbing another bowl from the pile and filling it to the brim with the stew, which actually didn't smell too awful. They tucked in, all four hungry from a day full of hard work. Michonne was usually on the trail with Maggie and Glenn, helping to clear, but a sprained ankle kept her (reluctantly, of course) off her feet most of the day. Carol had her winding long grasses together to make rope, which Michonne hated. They ate mostly in companionable silence, with the occasional interjection by Judith. After supper was over, Beth cleared the bowls and set to scrubbing again, while Daryl took Judith outside in the fading daylight to teach her to identify a few different kinds of edible plants.
"It's hard, isn't it?"
"What is?" Beth asked, not turning to face Michonne. She could feel the older woman's eyes on her back.
"Seeing Rick with Judith. It takes a lot for a child to survive in this world, there were a couple of close calls for sure, and the risks are sky-high, but…you still want one." Beth paused in her dishwashing. She shrugged her shoulders. Michonne was too perceptive sometimes.
"Is it hard for you?" Beth asked eventually. "Seeing someone else with a child, when..?" She trailed off.
"Hey, you can say it," Michonne said, her voice raw. "When I had one and I don't anymore. When I had one and he died. Everyone knows it now, so." She coughed and Beth steadfastly did not turn around, allowing Michonne to keep her pride. "Yeah, it is. It is hard."
"Well, the nice thing is we all kind of share Judith," Beth said thoughtfully, wiping dry the last clean dish and placing it among the others.
"They always did say that it takes a village to raise a child." Michonne smiled slightly. The cluttered exclamations and laughs that announced Daryl and Judith's return to the house cut their conversation short.
"Little Ass – uh, I mean, Judith here is getting real good at identifying plants," Daryl announced, nodding at the little girl, who beamed with pride. Beth gave him a look at the near slip, but couldn't help but smile.
"It's getting on towards your bedtime," she pointed out gently. The sky was growing darker by the minute. Beth turned to light the few candles they had. They had a kerosene lantern too, but that was for emergencies only.
"Here, I'll take her," Michonne offered, gesturing for Judith to follow her. "Your dad isn't back yet, but you can sleep in my bed, if you want." The girl nodded eagerly; her fear of the dark was well-established among the group. She tended to have nightmares – hardly unusual for a child that had been reared in such a rough environment, where an enemy could be lurking around any corner.
Daryl lifted a hand in farewell, then reached to Beth for a hug. She took comfort in his masculine scent and let herself melt into him a little. "So what were you and Michonne talkin' about?" he mumbled into her hair before pulling back.
"Oh, uh…" Be honest or lie? "We…we were talking about kids." Honesty was the best policy; that's what her dad had always said.
"Oh yeah?" Daryl leaned against the rotting countertop, looking at her steadily. "About how you want one?"
"How'd you know?" They'd never officially discussed it, though they'd been a couple for the past few years.
Daryl smiled, a rare treat. He wasn't much for displays of emotion. "I know you. I could tell." Beth grinned back, relieved at not having to explain her feelings. Occasionally she had to remind herself that it was okay to trust people, especially Daryl.
"So…what do you think?" she asked cautiously.
"As long as the kid gets all your genes and none of mine…" he trailed off, smiling still, although Beth knew there was seriousness behind it now.
"You know the nature versus nurture argument?" she asked. Daryl nodded, frowning at the sudden change in conversation. "I believe it's all about nurture," Beth explained. "Not so much nature. So even if he…or she…gets all your genes, well, we're gonna raise him…or her…to be strong. To be kind. To be clever. Like you. Not like…" She stopped, letting the idea of Merle and their father hang in the air.
"Hmm. Sounds pretty good to me," Daryl mused. "Do you wanna start now?" He grinned suddenly, a mischievous smile lighting up his face.
"Daryl! Not now!"
"Well, why not?"
"Uh…" Truthfully, Beth couldn't think of anything. The dishes were done. It was nighttime. Judith was safely tucked away with Michonne.
"C'mere." Daryl grabbed her hand and tugged her playfully to their bed.
The next day, Beth elected to work in the garden, handing tomatoes, carrots, potatoes, and zucchini to Michonne for her to wipe off and sort into portions. She hummed as she worked, the same song running through her head, though she still couldn't remember a few of the words. Daryl and Carol were on a run to the last remaining area they hadn't scavenged yet, a small group of businesses in a strip mall a few miles away. It was a warm, sunny September day, and all of the residents of their community were doing one thing or another outdoors.
"Daryl and I started trying last night," Beth suddenly announced, tugging a carrot out of the ground.
"Trying to..?" Michonne glanced up quizzically, and Beth gave her a look. "Oh, oh…well, that's good to hear," the older woman said, smiling into her lap as she scrubbed at a potato.
"I'm excited," Beth admitted, her voice soft. "I think this is the safest place we've been since the prison. And with Maggie and Glenn – and you, when you're back on your feet – clearing the area, it just seems…" She hesitated.
"Homey?" Michonne filled in. "Yeah, it does." Her hand gently brushed the handle of her katana, though, betraying the worry that underlay all of their contentment. It was never truly safe. Beth supposed that wasn't much different than the world before, if you gave it some thought. There was always a chance something bad would happen, even before walkers. Somebody could get injured, or sickness could spread, or a criminal could come bursting into your house and hurt you. "Hey, what's that?" Michonne muttered. She didn't sound overly concerned, so Beth continued picking vegetables, letting her check out the situation. The older woman limped to the edge of the garden and peered in a southerly direction. "Beth," she hissed after a few seconds. "Move slow. Come over here."
Beth immediately went on high alert, her heart rate speeding up. She stood and tiptoed over to where the older woman was standing. "Look there," she whispered, pointing to a copse of trees behind Rick, Carl, and Judith's dwelling. Something was rustling the leaves. Something taller than a deer. Beth automatically put her hand on her knife. "Where's Judith?" Michonne asked, barely moving her lips. Not for the first time, Beth wondered what she had done for a living before everything happened. She knew Daryl's history, and Rick's and Glenn's, and anyone could guess that Carol had been a teacher. Michonne was still a mystery.
"She's with Carol," Beth whispered back. "They're working on the well." Michonne nodded almost imperceptibly and drew her katana. "You can't fight injured," Beth protested, but it fell on deaf ears. Michonne was already limping closer. The younger girl followed close behind, placing one foot in front of the other to make minimal noise, as she'd been taught. "I think it's just a stray," she muttered, the walker's arms now protruding through the branches. It seemed to be alone. "Let me get it." Reluctantly, Michonne nodded and allowed Beth to get ahead of her, knife gripped tightly in hand. She waited patiently, trying to make her breaths even and slow in order to stay calm.
Even after so many years of dealing with them, walkers never stopped scaring her. They could lose someone so quickly, so easily. The ones they'd lost flashed across her mind as she slowly raised the knife, Hershel's kind face at the forefront. As soon as the walker's head emerged, Beth dispatched it, driving the knife deep into one of its eye sockets. It fell to the ground, motionless, and she stared at it. Like her father, Beth had always wondered if there would someday be a cure for the walker 'sickness,' and even though Rick had told her that they all had it, would all turn one day (it kept her up nights, sometimes, thinking of Daryl or Maggie becoming like…them), it never stopped affecting her. She couldn't help but think of the life this walker or that walker had lived before they turned.
As the years wore on, the already-dead bodies became increasingly decrepit, if that were even possible. All that wandering around took its toll on them too, Beth supposed. This one's clothes weren't even rags; they were mere threads, clinging here and there on the blood-sticky skin. Its ribs and pelvic bone were exposed and more than half its face was gone. She wasn't even positive whether it had been a man or a woman. She sighed and helped Michonne load the body onto a tarp and drag it to the edges of the cul-de-sac, where they burned the walkers.
"You should rest," she chided the older woman once they'd lit the fire. "Rick and Carl are gonna be back any minute now, and Daryl can't be too far away. They'll help when they get back. Go on." Michonne scowled, but knowing that she couldn't be of much use with an injured ankle, she limped back to her cottage, the smallest one in the group. Beth threw one last glance at the rapidly disintegrating walker and turned back toward the garden. She still had a job to do. They all did.
She inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of fresh soil as she dug more potatoes out of the ground. She wanted to start singing again, to see if she could bring the words back, but the appearance of a walker, even a lone one, made her more cautious. Beth glanced around. Apparently they had gotten rid of the walker so quietly that no one else had even noticed anything was amiss. She reached deep into the soft dirt for another potato. This one seemed oddly misshapen, and she frowned, tugging at it. It tugged back. She gasped. Lord knew how or why, but somehow a walker was buried underneath their garden. They'd tilled the soil and dug in it, and she had no idea how it hadn't been discovered before, but the fact remained that it had a hold on her – and it wasn't letting go.