A/N: *dodges projectiles being thrown at me* I know, I know. I'm despicable. I am so sorry for keeping you guys waiting for so long. A certain really shitty MSF combined with real life drama made it really hard to sit down and write. Please forgive me. And above all else, I hope you enjoy this installment!

I do not own The Walking Dead. If I did, season 5 would have gone a lot differently.

Seeking a Friend for the End of the World Chapter 9: Grief Counseling

In this world, death was inevitable.

Before everything went to hell, it could be sudden and jarring. But more often than not, it could be peaceful. It was just a part of life. Nowadays, one was lucky if they went quickly. Days of dying of old age were long gone. Replaced with the harsh reality of violent and gruesome endings. Everyone knew that. But that didn't mean that it got an easier.

It never would.

Growing up, Beth really didn't have to think about death much. She was lucky. Born into a loving family where tragedy meant soft tears and a bit more praying than usual. She knew both her parents had loved and lost spouses before her time. According to Maggie, Jo was a bit of a spitfire. Strong, tall, independent, and not at all afraid to stand up for what she believed in. Much like Maggie. While her father had often spoken of Jo, the same could not be said about her mother, Annette, and her former husband. All Beth really knew about him was that he'd been a military man, killed in action before Shawn had even been born. After a while, she stopped asking about him.

But then suddenly, death wasn't so foreign to her anymore.

The day her mother and Shawn turned would forever be branded in her mind. For a long time, the memory played on repeat in her dreams. Some nights, Beth still woke up with her mother's frantic screams burning in her ears.

No, death couldn't ever get easier.

Death scared everyone, but to Beth, apathy was something much more frightening. There was a time, early on, where she'd spend her days crying. Crying for her mother, her brother, her friends. She would be lying if she claimed she hadn't cried over the general state of the world for a time. Now, however long later, she felt herself shifting. After all, death was an ever present element in their lives.

It was only a matter of time before they'd all be used to it. Where it would be just another part of their days. Maybe one day, she'd be used to it too. The thought terrified her. But for now, she cried. And at that moment, sitting on her cot and while Judith slept, her heart went out to Daryl Dixon.

When he'd walked through the prison gates with bloody hands and puffy eyes, they all knew. Merle Dixon was dead. Daryl hadn't spoken a word, just stared straight ahead and made his way to his perch. That had been almost 30 hours ago and no one had seen him since. Although, to be fair, no one had risked going to check on him. They all knew Daryl, he'd want to be alone.

Beth knew that kind of grief and she knew it well. When the ones you love who are supposed to make it, don't; something stronger than grief sets in. The loss of hope. The loss of faith. And sometimes, the loss of the will to live. Oh yes, Beth understood that feeling very well.

Her interactions with Merle had been awkward at best. When he'd arrived, the night she sang by candle light, he'd watched her. Not with the passive and grateful looks of the family, but with distain and mild curiosity. She knew what he saw; weakness, uselessness, dependence. He looked at her as if he couldn't understand how she'd stayed alive so long. Sometimes, late at night, she wondered that too.

He'd mostly just ignored her, though. A lewd comment about her body or two had slipped from his lips when she'd walked past his cell a few times. But other than that, he'd written her off as just the babysitter. Much like everyone else in this prison. It wasn't until the day she'd fired that pistol, breaking up the fight between him and Glenn, that his opinion of her seemed to have shifted. If she hadn't known any better, she would've said it had morphed into a kind of reluctant respect.

"You got balls, Blondie. I'l give you that," He said to her, shortly after the incident. Not really knowing how to respond, she merely nodded her head and walked away with a slight smile tugging at her lips.

But that had been weeks ago, and now Merle was dead. Once again reminding her, even the ones who are supposed to make it, don't.

Judith let out a loud squawk, yanking Beth out of her solemn reverie. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and pulled the infant out of her basket.

"Hey lady," she cooed. Beth couldn't explain it, but there was something incredibly therapeutic about taking care of Judith. If anything could distract her from the horrid state of the world, it was the tiny girl in her arms. At that moment, an idea sparked in her head and before she had a chance to changer her mind, she gathered Judith closer to her body and walked out of the cell.

Daryl was reclining on his mattress when she found him. While he clearly had heard her approach, he never bothered look up. What was even stranger, was that he had yet to snap at her to leave. In his hands, there appeared to be what looked like an old and worn wallet. He continued to fiddle with it mindlessly when she cleared her throat.

"What?" He growled.

"Someone wanted to see you," Beth said in a slight sing-songy voice. "If you're okay with that, of course." She added more seriously. He glanced up and eyed her suspiciously, as if she were ready to strike him at any moment. After a few seconds, he shrugged.

"May we?" Beth asked, motioning towards the mattress on the floor. Once again, he shrugged, put the wallet in his pocket, and sat up.

"You wanna hold her?" She asked once she was situated next to him. Daryl nodded and carefully took the infant into his arms.

"Make sure to support-"

"Her head," Daryl finished. "I know how to hold a baby."

"Right, yeah. Sorry, instinct." She stammered. Of course he knew to support her head, he wasn't an idiot, she cursed to herself. They sat in a semi- uncomfortable silence. Neither of them talking or even acknowledging the real reason that Beth was there, sitting beside him. Judith started to fuss and squirm a bit, and Beth moved to console her. Yet Daryl beat her too it. Beth couldn't explain it. Here was this rough and surely man, yet he seemed to have the touch. He could get her to calm down quicker than almost anyone at the prison. It was amazing to her.

"You're really good with her, you know that?" Beth remarked.

"Just holdin' her, not really doing much." He said.

"No, it's more than that. You've got the touch,"

"The what?"

"The touch, it's what my mom called it whenever someone was exceptionally good around small children, especially babies."

"I ain't got no touch," He grumbled.

"Whatever you say," She teased lightly. "C'mon, it's not so bad. It'll even be our little secret."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Fine, don't believe me. You must've learned somehow, though." She smiled. However, when she felt Daryl stiffen next to her, she got the sense that it may have been the wrong thing t say. She pulled away from him and braced herself for the backlash. Last time she'd put her foot in her mouth, he'd made her cry. Did she really want to risk that again?

"Daryl, if I said something wrong I-."

"It was Merle, actually." He murmured. Beth was stunned. Of all things to come out of his mouth at that moment, that was the last one she would've expected.

"He had a kid once, a lil' girl." He said again, almost like a whisper.

"Really?" Beth asked, practically dumbfounded.

"Yeah,"

"So that's where you learned all this?" She asked carefully.

"Yeah, lived with them for a while. Picked up a thing or two along the way. He'd gotten this waitress pregnant when he was about my age and for once acted like a stand up guy. They didn't get married or nothin' but he stuck around. I guess I did too."

While he'd seemed to slip into a sort of retrospective trance, Daryl's initial phrasing of the confession rang clear as a bell in Beth's head; Merle had a a little girl once. Once. As in before everything. As in she wasn't around anymore. As in she'd probably been gone for a long time. And even though she had question after question bubbling up her throat, Beth didn't dare ask anymore.

Then just like that, the spell was broken, Daryl stiffened. As if he's just realized who he was talking to. Or that he'd even been speaking out loud at all. Hesitantly, he peered over at her with a guarded expression. This wasn't normal. Daryl had never been so forth coming with information, especially about his past. It was odd to picture him that way, as a live-in nanny. It was so un-Daryl. Yet in a weird way, it kind of made sense to Beth.

But even still, it didn't make the whole conversation any less stranger. Even on the best of terms, she and Daryl didn't talk. Not often at least. Sure, they'd had their fair share of spats. But honestly, who hadn't had a disagreement with him once or twice. The man could be a ticking time bomb, and every now and again, someone would set him off.

Tonight though, Beth decided, would not be once of those nights.

"You don't have to tell me anymore, if you don't want." She said nervously.

He didn't respond. Aside from Judith's gurgling, not a sound came from either of them for a while. A few times, Beth considered just getting up and leaving. Their conversation had started mild and had flipped to horribly uncomfortable in a matter of seconds. Yet, she stayed put.

"You know, I get it though." Beth added suddenly.

"Get what?" He grunted.

"Well, let's just say you're not the only one who's lost their family." Beth started carefully. "After my mom and my brother… well after they got sick, I couldn't stop talking about them. It was before y'all came to the farm. I used to follow Maggie or Jimmy or Patricia and Otis around and just talk. At first it was about the sickness. Whether or not they'd get better eventually, stuff like that."

He nodded.

"But, after a while, I guess I started talking more about them. How they were before the turn. Like Shawn's obsession with Stephen King or the way my mom would sing while baking peach cobbler."

"You told me about her peaches," Daryl said.

"I did, didn't I?" Beth smiled lightly. "I didn't think you remembered." She added.

He shrugged.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's okay to talk about it. About him. He was your brother, that's never gonna change. No matter what happened. You know?"

He shrugged again.

"Look," Beth sighed. "I'm no preacher or counselor, I'm not gonna say that he's at peace or that he's with God now, because I know it won't change anything. It sure as hell didn't make me feel any better when my family told me that over and over after everything. If anything, I think I resented everyone for it. All I wanted was to have my mom and brother back."

His eyes stayed glued to the floor.

"Daryl," She continued. "I know how hard this is. I know that all you want to do is shoot out the sun, right now. And that's okay. Just know, that you don't have to do this alone."

"Beth," He started.

"I'm not saying that you need to talk to me about it or anything." She cut him off. "But find someone, or something even to let it out with. I've said it before and I'll say it again, we're a family, Daryl Dixon. Whether you like it or not."

Mustering up all of her courage, Beth tentatively put a hand on his arm.

"And family doesn't let family grieve alone." She said.

Daryl looked to be at a loss for words. He was tenser than a leather cord on a weight, but he didn't argue with her. In fact, he was actually looking at her face now. And for that, Beth took it as a victory. She smiled and reached to stroke Judith lightly, who was still content in Daryl's arms.

"It's late, you should get some sleep." Daryl spoke finally.

"Oh, okay. Do you want me to-"

"Nah, you go on. I think I got 'er for a while." He said.

"Alright, well if you change your mind, my cell's just on the left."

"I know, girl. I know." He said.

"Right, of course." Beth blushed. "Well, um, goodnight."

"Night,"

Beth made it to the railing before she turned around one last time.

"Daryl?"

"Yeah?"

"I- um…"

"What?"

"I won't tell anyone, you know, what you said about Merle. It'll stay between us. I promise." She said in a rush.

Daryl didn't say anything, just nodded stiffly.

"Okay. I- um, I'll leave for real this time." Beth said awkwardly. Without another word, she walked back to her cell.

Hours later, as she laid in her cot that night, staring up at the grooves of the bunk above her, Beth thought over her conversation with Daryl. She'd meant what she said before she'd walked away. She'd take the talk of Merle to the grave. No way would he ever tell her more. She knew that much. They weren't friends. In all honesty, she and Daryl would probably never be more than familiar acquaintances. But nevertheless, she was glad that he wasn't keeping it bottled up. Not all of it at least.

And if she thought back really hard, she could've sworn she'd heard him say something as she'd been walking away. Something that sounded suspiciously like a muffled, gravely "thanks."

No, she and Daryl weren't friends. But at the end of the day, they sure as hell were family.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked it! Again, I am beyond sorry that it took so long for me to get this up. I promise that there are many more chapters to come. And I know I jinx myself every time I say this, but I really am going to try and get the next one out in a timely manner. As always, make sure to leave a review, even if you hated it. Have a great night!