All I Ever Will Be

Chapter Five - Trust

"You okay?" Daryl asked as he placed her back on the floor, both boots hitting the ground simultaneously. He looked Beth over carefully. "Did he hurt you?"

Beth shook her head, wiping her eyes with her fists, looking away from him. "I'm fine," she said. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Stop - you got nothin' to be sorry for," Daryl said to her, trying to catch her gaze.

"That guy, he spooked me. I dropped the stupid flashlight. He charged you - smacked your head against the wall," she said.

"Explains the headache," Daryl said, rubbing the back of his head.

"I guess he figured I'd be easier to take." She continued, her voice cracking, and he could sense she was getting upset again. "He was right," she whispered. "I messed up. He just took my knife from me. I didn't even put up a fight."

"Beth," Daryl said, his voice hoarse. "We were blindsided and in the damn dark. Don't go gettin' upset about somethin' you couldn't control. Woulda been silly to try and take him anyway. Motherfucker was massive."

Beth was silent then. "If we get outta here, I'm gonna learn how to be more like you," she said.

"No you won't," Daryl grumbled at her. "You need to stay you. You don't wanna be anythin' like me."

"You're brave and strong," Beth said, staring at him now. "Who wouldn't want to be more like you?"

"Hmph," was all Daryl could muster, though he felt his face flush against his will. "Anythin' good in here?" he asked, wanting to change the subject. "Anythin' we can use as a weapon?"

"Not much," Beth replied, wandering around the small room. "It's pretty bare. There's running water though," she said, pointing towards the doorway.

"Yeah?" Daryl asked, raising an eyebrow.

She nodded. "Sink and a toilet," she said.

"There must be a source of electricity somewhere," Daryl said, thinking out loud. "I wonder what this place is."

Beth shrugged, looking sad. She felt guilty. He could tell. He knew the feeling all too well.

"Hey," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder and she looked up at him. His stomach fluttered. "It's okay." He was trying his hardest to make her feel better. "Stop being so rough on yourself."

She brought her hand up to his, grabbing it and squeezing it in her own. It was a thank you, in a way, though she didn't say it. He nodded at her, releasing her shoulder and looked around, taking in the bloody mattress, the simple shelves, the small table. The wood could be useful in terms of a weapon, but too light to do much damage. He started to wander then, moving into the doorway and looking at the small space that Beth had described.

The toilet tank. It had a lid, and a heavy one at that. That was what they would use, once they had the chance.

He came out to tell Beth of his plan but she had resorted to sitting cross-legged on the floor, her head in her hands, crying. That was all it took to set him off. If he could take that pain away, he would have. He hated seeing anyone sad, but Beth especially. The hopefulness, the excitement in her eyes at finding this place - it was gone. Destroyed. Just as it had been at the farm, then at the prison, again at the funeral home and now here? He didn't want that to happen again. She was on the verge of breaking - he could feel it.

Frustrated, Daryl balled his hands into fists and angrily beelined towards the locked entrance, placing them on the cool metal and slammed them into the door. "Hey! Let us out you fucking cowards!" As his fists met the door, he heard it rattle within it's frame. "I said let us out!" he yelled again.

He waited for a minute for any sign of life on the other side of the door, but was met with silence. He tried again, starting to punch the door out of sheer anger. "Let us the fuck out!" he screamed this time, feeling the skin over his knuckles starting to tear. He lifted his foot up, kicking the door furiously, completely overtaken with emotion. He stepped away then, breathing heavily, but not wanting to give up.

He looked at Beth who was staring at him with her wide eyes, raw from her tears. Daryl shrugged at her, kicking the door once more for good measure and went to sit down next to her. He wasn't sure why, but it seemed like the right thing to do. She leaned her head against his shoulder and neither of them spoke for a while.

When she woke up, she wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep, but drool had formed at the side of her mouth and she wiped it away hastily, realizing she was leaning against Daryl's shoulder. She sat up abruptly, too quickly, feeling dizzy. Daryl stirred beneath her, waking slowly with a soft snore, his eyes shooting open.

"Sorry," Beth said, placing a hand on his leg as a gesture of apology. She realized it might have seemed intimate or forward, so she pulled it away quickly.

"S'okay," Daryl said. "Shouldn't both be restin' both at once anyhow." He grunted as he got to his feet, which seemed pointless to Beth, but he gestured at her to stand up too. "We should get a plan ready."

Beth stretched to her feet, her knees feeling tight and achy from all of the walking they'd done. Her arm was sore from where the man had grabbed her, so she rubbed it absentmindedly as she followed Daryl to the small bathroom in the room.

He reached forward into the room and grabbed the ceramic toilet tank lid into two hands, feeling the weight of it, bringing it into the larger room to take a mock swing with it. He turned around and handed it to Beth who took it apprehensively in her two hands. It was heavy and a strangely familiar object. It was no different than any other toilet tank lid she'd ever seen in her life, but she'd never thought of it as a weapon.

"Take a swing," Daryl urged her.

She swung it, feeling stupid, the heaviness of the object pulling her forward. She felt weak and ridiculous, bringing it still again in her hands. She looked up at Daryl and he stared at her, looking stunned.

"What?" she asked.

"That was terrible," he said honestly. "Try again."

She narrowed her eyes at him, bringing the lid up to the side of her and swinging again. The weight still felt awkward in her hands, but the swing had some strength behind it this time as she came through to the other side. She brought it back to her chest again and looked at Daryl who nodded.

"Better," he said. "Again."

"Daryl," Beth said, shaking her head.

"You wanna get out of here?" he asked.

So she swung the stupid thing, giving it a heavy swing into the air, bringing it steady again in her hands and when she looked at him this time, she could tell he was pleased. A smile was tugging at the edges of his lips - so slight, but she noticed it, feeling satisfied with herself.

"Good," was all he said. He opened his mouth to say something else, but was cut off by a loud bang that echoed from outside of the room, startling them both. Beth looked at Daryl, feeling frozen in place and panicked. Swiftly, Daryl grabbed the lid back from Beth and she watched him as he leaned it against the inside of the doorframe of the bathroom.

He came back to her, his face close to hers and he placed a hand on her shoulder. His touch was rough - everything about Daryl was, but it was comforting all the same. "Don't you hesitate," he said to her. "We ain't gonna go down without a fight," Daryl said. "If we get separated - that's your weapon. Hit the shit out of anyone that comes near you."

Beth looked at the floor, her heart picking up pace in her chest. "What if I can't?" she asked softly. "I'm no fighter."

She raised her head and they made eye contact, his blue eyes piercing, full of fire. "You are a fighter," he said firmly. "And we will get out of here."

She nodded at him.

"Do you trust me?" he asked her.

She looked at him, unsure of how he didn't know. "I trust you Daryl. I've always trusted you."