Just a short chapter before the weekend commences. I'm not sure I'll update on weekends, probably just weekdays so enjoy this one! I think I gave y'all something juicy to get you through the short drought. Anyway, here we find out a bit about where Beth was and how she escaped. I think she's really struggling with trying to find her place in the world now, you know? What are her strengths and weaknesses? What is she willing to do? What is her worth and value? A lot of soul searching for Beth Greene which I hope is really highlighted in season 5.
After a couple of days in the warehouse and a whole bunch of foul-mouthed, insult-laden shouting matches between Abraham and Eugene, the group had finally decided to keep pushing north. They were already in Virginia. Might as well see what D.C. had to offer in the way of supplies or safe zones.
They'd had no luck finding useful vehicles. And they barely kept enough gas to keep the jeep running. So the group continued walking allowing the day's scouting party to cover more ground quickly by taking the jeep further on ahead and circling back. The days bled into nights bled into mornings with no real end in sight.
This morning, Daryl was bringing up the rear walking a few paces behind Carol and Beth who were whispering, thick as thieves. He'd caught them stealing glances back his way every so often. He hated to think of what was being said.
As Beth walked, he watched her. Her steps were stronger these days, bolder even. Like you could hear her footfalls now unlike before where she'd been quiet as a mouse. She was sure and determined but still smiled more than she had any right to. Her new bow was slung across her body like she'd been wielding that thing since birth. After her awkwardness with his crossbow, she'd taken to the compound bow nicely, just as he'd imagined. His eyes strayed further south noticing the holes in her jeans. They'd grown so large they were almost indecent. He made a mental note to find her a new pair.
Someone up front called for Carol so Beth slowed down to fall in step beside him. They traveled like this more often than not these days. Sometimes talking, sometimes not. He was surprised to discover that she didn't always need to fill the air with chatter. Most days, she hummed to herself some bits and pieces of songs she'd once known. Daryl now took a certain amount of comfort from her birdsong.
"You know, you ain't never really talked much about what happened to you before." They'd found her sitting in a church almost comatose, covered in blood from head to toe. She'd slept for nearly two straight days, claimed she was fine, and then returned - at least mostly - to her normal self. But there was a hardness in all her softness now that he detected and imagined Maggie did as well. And sometimes her brow furrowed and her eyes darkened when she was lost in thought. At night, he could even sometimes hear her crying in her sleep.
"Didn't think you were much for talking, Dixon." She smirked at him, but he knew she was trying to dodge the question.
"You don't got to tell me, Beth. But you need to tell somebody. Maybe Maggie." They kept walking along in silence. He could see she was musing over what he'd suggested.
"I can't tell Maggie or anyone because I don't know how. I don't know how to say the words." The tremble in her voice broke his heart.
He reached up and pulled her braid, rubbing the soft golden strands between his fingers. Beth stopped and looked at him. Tears brimmed her eyes, but she kept her chin lifted high. "That man wanted to keep me as a pet. To be his plaything. To cook his meals, clean his house. To...to…" And now the tears flowed freely.
Daryl kept his voice low and gentle. "Did he touch you?"
"Not at first." She barely whispered the rest. "At first this was another girl. Younger than me. She must have been with him a long time. She'd gone crazy - there wasn't anything left in her eyes. He kept her for his nights until she hung herself from the church rafters. And then, when he came for me, I put a knife in his belly." She turned from him and kept walking, shoulders squared and determined to move forward.
He caught up with her and just silently tried to send her all the support he could. And when his knuckles brushed his, she grabbed his hand and held on. "Ain't no shame in saving yourself. He deserved a hell of a lot worse."
"I don't feel any shame, Daryl. I think that's what bothers me most. I put that knife in his gut and his blood spilled over my hands and I smiled. I had fun. I carved a man alive, a priest inside of his own church, and laughed all the while." She stopped and faced him, suddenly - a fierceness he'd never seen storming in her eyes. "And if I had my way, that fucker'd come back to life so I could do it all again. But this time, I'd slow down, really take my time. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"If that's what you wanted to say, then yes. In this world, Beth, we all become monsters at some point or we die. You did what you had to do to survive, to get back to us. I'd have done no less, probably worse. Rick bit a man's throat out with his bare fucking teeth. So, I guess, you just have to decide if it was all worth it. If that's a part of yourself you can embrace and move forward with and accept?" Their hands still clasped together, Daryl slowly rubbed circles across her skin hoping he was communicating to her that what she'd done didn't matter to him one bit. That he was proud of her.
"I already did, Daryl. And even after all that shit, I still think this world is filled with good people. I just think the good ones are all hiding. But I'm not going to hide." She had moved closer to him all this time. He could feel her body heat pressing against him. Could smell the scavenged shampoo in her hair. Her hand gripped his tightly, fingernails biting into him in this lovely way that made her presence so known, so undeniable. He stared down at her and she up at him. And for the first time he allowed his eyes to roam to her mouth - set in such a hard, firm line. And God how he wanted to soften those lips, to press his against hers and take the stress and the pain from them, from her. He wanted to take their pinkness and turn them red with heat. He tried swallowing that need away, but she didn't back down beneath his gaze - like she was daring him to take a chance. And so a war waged in his head. One that, if he were honest, had been waging since she'd pushed back at him in their fight at the moonshine cabin. And he wanted to give in so badly despite all of the reasons that he shouldn't.
Then suddenly, they were interrupted by shouting. They let go of each other and donned their bows, rushing forward to join the others who all had their weapons aimed at some guy who'd appeared on the road before them.
"Who the hell are you?" Rick asked, gruffly.
The young man raised his arms as if in surrender. "Name's Aaron."
