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-Mandy
Daryl saw her and the baby when the two first moved in.
He wondered where the kid's father was, but it wasn't any of his business. The kid was barely walking—really wobbly and only taking small steps. A brown haired woman came by on the weekends, probably to keep the baby, while the blonde woman worked. The blonde woman, who looked like she could be a teenager, always came home dressed in scrubs. He figured she was a nurse or something. She was nice enough, but he'd never spoken to her.
He'd lived in that complex for two years, and he'd seen plenty of neighbors come and go frequently. The last neighbors were loud and rowdy, the man had gone to jail for beating on his wife and daughter. Daryl had intervened on that one, and made sure Ed Peletier had gotten another assault charge on top of everything. The deputies that had arrested Ed, Rick and his partner, Shane, were old high school friends of Daryl—the ones who had helped him get out of his father's house and away from the mess that was his childhood. Shane had put in a good word for him, even, and Daryl had been working at the auto shop owned by Dale Horvath for nine years now.
He still talked to Rick and Shane, though he was "closer" to Rick. Shane had dropped off the map, getting married and having a kid. Daryl still liked the guy and had a ton of respect for him, but they were at two totally different places in life. Daryl couldn't begrudge him for that.
Daryl liked his life. He didn't have a girlfriend. He didn't have a wife. He had his own apartment, he had a dog. He hung out with his co worker (and friend, he supposed), Aaron quite often. He'd go grab beers with Rick on occasion. He liked routine in his life. He liked going to work, coming home, walking the dog, hunting on the weekends. He liked his freedom.
The only thorn in his side was Merle.
Merle came and went, often drunk or high. If he wasn't in jail, he was usually up to something illegal. Daryl tried his best with Merle, but the man was an adult—he could make his own decisions. Yeah, it bothered him that he spent more time in prison than he did out in the world, but Daryl couldn't make Merle's choices for him.
He'd heard Shane had been killed through the Dale, when he came into work one Monday morning. Apparently, Shane and Rick had gotten in the middle of a bar fight and someone had stabbed him to death. Daryl hated to hear it; Shane was a good man. He knew Rick wouldn't take it very well, but he heard Shane's wife had gone ballistic. He went to Shane's funeral, but it was standing room only. He didn't feel right sitting down in the church anyway; he was too dirty. He didn't belong. Standing on the sidelines observing was where he was supposed to be. He found it sort of surreal, Shane was only thirty—he shouldn't be laying in a casket. He should've been enjoying his life with his wife and kid. He caught a glimpse of Shane's wife, the youngest daughter of Doc Greene, as she said her final goodbye before the funeral started. She was a tiny blonde, not the type of woman he figured Shane would settle down with. He found himself choking back tears during the funeral, remembering all the times Shane stood up for him in their childhood. Shane had told a couple of neighborhood kids once, "It don't matter if he's a Dixon, he's just Daryl to us. Anyone else got somethin' to say, they can say it to me." Daryl regretted not keeping in contact with him in the past three years. Shane was the guy who gave firearms instruction to the community. He led singing at the church they were having his funeral in. He regularly saved people's lives. When Rick was shot four years ago, Shane was the one who saved his life. It shouldn't have been Shane in the casket, Daryl thought. It should've been the thug that put him there.
On his way out, he caught Rick. He hugged the man, at a loss for what to say. How do you comfort someone when they've lost their oldest friend?
"You okay, man?" Daryl asked.
"I'm makin' it." Rick admitted, "Never thought I'd be doin' this."
"Never thought I'd be hangin' out here, either. Just wish I'd stayed in touch, hadn't gone off on my own. You and Shane are the reason I ain't locked up like Merle." Daryl told him.
"You should come by the house sometime." Rick said, "You're not a stranger, brother, not to me."
Daryl nodded, agreeing silently, and walked out, watching Rick and the other pall bearers place Shane's casket in the hearse. Daryl Dixon had seen a lot of bad days—but this was by far one of the worst.
The blonde woman and her baby moved in a few months after Shane's death. Daryl didn't connect the dots at first, until he saw the kid. The little boy—who probably was no older than a year—looked like the spitting image of Shane Walsh. Daryl had thought about going over to send his condolences several times, but decided against it. She looked so sad and lost. Not even the kid could make her smile very much. She worked at night, and he would often see her coming home as he was leaving for work. She looked like she hadn't eaten or slept very much in a long time. Daryl was slightly concerned that she might try to off herself one day and he'd show up to a bunch of police cars, leave the kid an orphan and he'd be a ward of the state or something. He didn't know her name, just that she was Doc Greene's youngest girl who had married a man seven years her senior—same age as him. He learned through observation that her sister's name was Maggie. He knew Maggie's husband Glenn, because Glenn had recently started working at Dale's shop. He hadn't bothered to say much—he never said much to anyone—so he felt kind of bad that he knew this woman's whole family and he didn't even know her.
She was a quiet neighbor, always making sure to close the door quietly in the mornings. Even the kid didn't make much noise, and he didn't cry very much. The woman didn't have very many visitors, and every time he thought about saying hi, she was already closing the door to her apartment. He hadn't even thought to initiate conversation at all.
Until the day Merle overdosed.
He was getting ready for work. It was a typical Friday. Merle had been staying with him for a week, after running off to Birmingham for six months to do God-knows-what with God-knows-who. Merle had been out all night, as per usual, and had come home acting really strange. Normally, Daryl wouldn't have noticed, but Merle was quiet.
In his thirty years of life, Daryl Dixon had never, ever known Merle to be quiet.
He checked his pulse, and it was barely there. His skin was cold and clammy. Daryl could see the needle marks in his arm; Merle had overdosed. Daryl checked the clock; it was seven-thirty. His neighbor should be getting home by now. He ran across the hall, banging on the door, and she answered, still in her scrubs from the night before.
"You're a nurse, right?" He asked her.
"Yeah, I am." She replied, raising an eyebrow.
"You gotta help me—it's my brother." Daryl explained.
"What's the matter?" She asked.
"I think he overdosed. He came to my place about thirty minutes ago—I dunno. He's breathin's shallow, he ain't movin'. I need your help." Daryl wanted to explain it better, but he couldn't seem to find the words. His neighbor grabbed a kit that was by the door and followed him, calmly, to his apartment. When they got there, she checked Merle's vital signs, and he was still alive—for now.
"Call 911. I'll do what I can." His neighbor said. Daryl began to shake, the possibility of his brother dying being very, very real. All he could do was pace and cuss.
"What's your name?"The neighbor asked.
"Daryl." He replied.
"What's your brother's name, Daryl?" She asked.
"Merle." He replied.
"Alright, Daryl. I need you to stay calm. I'm going to help Merle, but panicking won't help him. Call an ambulance. Call the police, and stay calm. I'm going to do my best." She explained, no trace of fear or worry in her voice.
"Okay." He whispered. He called the ambulance, and he let her work. By the time the paramedics arrived, Merle was stable. She'd saved his life, and Daryl felt an immense relief roll off his shoulders. As the EMT's loaded Merle into the ambulance, Daryl turned back to the woman, who was watching from the stairwell.
"Let me know how he's doing later, alright? I've gotta go check on my little boy." She said.
"I will, thank you ma'am. What'd you say your name was?" Daryl asked.
"Beth." Beth said, "My name is Beth."
Just like that, the blonde had a name: Beth Walsh. Beth Walsh had saved his brother's life.
Daryl stayed at the hospital until that evening, when he decided he'd let the sedated Merle sleep so he could go home and rest. This wasn't the first time Merle had nearly killed himself, and it probably wouldn't be the last.
He arrived at his apartment that night, tired and hungry and ready to collapse on the couch. Before he did, however, he decided he'd keep his promise to Beth. He knocked on apartment 229, and she answered, with the little boy on her hip.
"Daryl, hey." She said, with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, "How's Merle?"
"You saved his life." Daryl told her, "He's gonna be fine. As fine as Merle can be, but he's gonna have to find a new place to stay. Can't have 'im bringin' drugs into my place."
"That's good to hear, Daryl. I'm glad he's alright." Beth said, "Have you eaten?"
"No ma'am." Daryl answered, "Haven't had time."
"I made a casserole. Would you like to come in? I'm sure it's been a rough day." Beth said, bouncing the baby up to hold him better.
"Thanks. I wouldn't mind." He replied, following her in. Her apartment was neat and tidy, but he felt an immense sadness as soon as he walked in. The girl was living under a cloud, and it almost sucked the life out of him. Daryl noticed the pictures of the kid on the walls, of what he guessed were family members, too. He even saw a picture with Rick, Lori, and the kids.
Then, he saw it. The wedding picture of Shane and Beth, hanging behind the couch.
"That's my husband, Shane." Beth explained. She must have caught him glancing at the picture.
"He...Passed away, eight months ago." She added, a despair in her voice that stung Daryl more than he expected it could.
"I knew him." Daryl said, without thinking.
"What?" Beth asked.
"Shane an' me...We grew up together. Me an' him an' Rick. I guess I just...Drifted away from 'em as I got older. Both of 'em got married an' stuff. That wasn't me." Daryl explained. Beth dropped the plates she was grabbing from the cabinet, blinking and standing there, motionless. She'd set the kid down and he toddled into the living room, yanking over his toy box.
"You—you knew him?" Beth muttered.
"Yeah. I'm—I'm real sorry 'bout what happened. Hadn't spoke since 'fore he got married. Sorry he's gone." Was all Daryl could say.
"So you're Daryl." Beth replied, "The Daryl him and Rick always talked about."
Daryl stared at her; Shane had talked about him? Part of him felt his chest swell. Another part of his chest hurt—especially because Shane was gone now.
"You haven't met him yet, but this is Caleb. He'll be two in July." Beth said. Daryl stared at the little boy in the floor, who had dark, curly hair like Shane, and big, piercing brown eyes.
"Geez, he looks just like Shane." Daryl said. He looked up, and she was crying—sobbing, while trying to sweep the pieces of broken dishes off the floor.
"I'm sorry." She said, "It's still really hard."
She was crying. Daryl felt awful, honestly. He helped her sweep up the dishes, but he didn't stay for dinner. He left without eating, quietly slipping away while Beth changed Caleb's diaper. He felt bad for leaving like that, but he didn't know how to make her smile. He couldn't fix her problems. Her problem was that some stupid punk stabbed Shane in the gut all because Shane was trying to do the right thing. That was Shane, Daryl thought, always doing what was right. He did the right thing, and got killed over it.
From then on, Daryl avoided Beth and Caleb like the plague. He didn't wanna run into her. He didn't want to see her sadness. He was terrified that she'd break down again. He didn't know how to deal with crying women. He didn't know how to console her; especially not after losing her husband.
A week after he'd told Beth he knew Shane, he found himself sitting on the back porch the Grimes house next to Rick. Lori sat in the porch swing, watching nine-year-old Carl and four-year-old Judith play in the backyard.
"Judith Grace, don't hit your brother!" Rick called. Daryl observed the children—the ones he hadn't seen very much of—and felt a pang of guilt.
"How's Merle?" Lori asked.
"Merle's just Merle. Ain't lettin' him stay at my place. Ain't lettin' him bring meth and God knows what else into my apartment." Daryl replied, taking a drink of beer.
"How's Beth?" Rick asked. Daryl had relayed the story of how Beth saved Merle's life, and her meltdown later that evening, to Rick and Lori.
"Ain't spoken to her since last week. Tryin' to avoid her. Feel bad." Daryl said.
"She's...Not been takin' it easy. We've tried keepin' up with her, but she just keeps to herself mostly." Rick said, "Her and Caleb not bein' around hurts almost as bad as Shane bein' gone."
"That night..." Lori said, and Daryl knew exactly which night she was referring to, "Beth tried to run to him. She saw it all happen. She tried so hard to stop the bleeding, but she couldn't. He bled out in front of her. First couple of months after he died, she just couldn't function."
"She left Caleb with Hershel and Annette, or sometimes us. She couldn't take care of him." Rick added.
"Then, she just had too much of it...She almost killed herself a couple of months after Shane passed." Lori said.
"Doesn't surprise me." Daryl said, "Honestly worried she might now."
"She's better than she was." Rick said, taking a long sip of beer, "Lori tries to check in 'bout once a week. We just...How do you ask someone how they're doin' after they watch their spouse die in their arms, ya know?"
Daryl nodded. He understood. That's why he'd been avoiding her.
Weekly dinners at the Grimes house became a thing. Daryl was glad for it, and he enjoyed spending time with Rick, Lori, and the kids. He realized he'd really missed having Rick in his life—even if he would never tell Rick that himself. He still avoided Beth as much as he could, trying desperately to tiptoe around the fact that sometimes he could hear her crying after her shifts in the stairwell, or he'd see her sitting in her car, twirling the wedding rings she still wore. He felt bad, he truly did. But he'd managed to avoid speaking to her.
Until May 23rd. Shane's birthday.
It'd started off so normal. He'd remembered, though, because when they were teenagers, Rick, Daryl, and Shane would usually do something stupid and they'd end the day with a steak dinner at Shane's parents' place. On Shane's fifteenth birthday, Daryl had nearly lost a finger because the three had gotten the bright idea to set off fireworks at the rock quarry. On Shane's sixteenth birthday, Rick wound up getting stitches. On Shane's seventeenth birthday, Lori drove the getaway car while the three painted obscenities on the town water tower. May 23rd was almost a holiday, up until recent years.
Daryl could hear her. He could hear her in the morning as he left for work. He could hear her sobbing when he got home that afternoon, too. Then, the baby started crying, and he hoped that someone would come and relieve the poor woman and give her some help. An hour later, help never came, so Daryl found himself walking across the hall and knocking on Beth's door.
Beth answered, wiping her eyes and swallowing hard. "Daryl."
"Uh, hey." Daryl said.
"Did Merle overdose again?" Beth asked.
"No—nothin' like that." Daryl said, "I just...You eat today?"
"No. I was gonna go get groceries, I just can't today." Beth replied.
"Uh, I was 'bout to head over to Rick's house. You an' Caleb wanna tag along?" Daryl asked.
"I look like a mess, Daryl." Beth said, "I'm not..."
"Trust me." Daryl said, "They won't care. They've been askin' bout you. Come on."
She was quiet for a beat, then she spoke. "Okay."
"Okay?" Daryl repeated. Beth nodded.
They arrived at the Grimes House at 5:30, and Rick and Lori both looked thrilled to see Beth. They hugged her and fawned over Caleb and kissed her cheeks, and not once did they ask her how she was doing. They all had Shane's favorite dinner, steak and baked potatoes, and when they finished, they had chocolate cake—in honor of the man who wasn't there to celebrate his birthday.
"Ya know, last time we did somethin' for his birthday, I wound up with a fishin' hook in my ass." Daryl said.
"What?" Beth asked. Rick nodded, laughing.
"Yep. Shane got the bright idea to take his daddy's fishin' boat out so we could all go fishin'. 'Cept he didn't realize Daryl was right behind him, and the one thing Shane couldn't do was cast a line." Rick explained, "I don't think I ever saw Daryl cuss that much."
"I remember that!" Lori said, "How many stitches was it, Daryl?"
"Five. But it hurt." Daryl said.
Beth was laughing, harder than she had since Shane passed. She was actually smiling, and not just faking it.
"When we first started dating, Shane told me he could ride horses. You know, I grew up on a farm. I learned to ride a horse before I could walk. I let 'im ride my horse, Nelly, and she bucked him right off. He got so mad and worked up, and I put him on the slowest horse we had, and he still freaked out." Beth said.
"Shane was scared of horses." Daryl said, "He was really tryin' to impress you."
"He did that a lot." Beth said, "Every single day."
They left at nine-thirty, Beth carrying a sleeping Caleb in her arms. Beth promised Rick and Lori that she would come by the following week, and apologized for not replying to their seven texts they'd sent her earlier that day. Daryl took her back to her apartment, and she invited him in for coffee once she set Caleb in his crib.
"Thank you for today, Daryl." Beth said, "Thank you for not askin' me how I'm doin'. And for makin' me laugh."
"I don't need to ask how you're doin'. It ain't like you're doing cartwheels in the livin' room." Daryl replied.
"I'm getting better. It's still hard. I thought...I thought I'd be with him for the rest of my life, you know? Now he's gone. But it helps, rememberin' the good times." Beth admitted.
"Does me too." Daryl agreed.
When he left her apartment that night, Daryl felt better than he had in a while. Honestly, when he'd started telling stories about Shane, he hadn't intended to make Beth laugh, he just wanted to remember a time where he had his friend. But it helped her, and Daryl felt good for it.
Maybe, he thought, he wouldn't avoid Beth after all. Maybe, he'd just be her friend, and make her laugh. She didn't need anymore people asking her if she was okay. She just needed someone to be there. Daryl could do that, he supposed. Talking about Shane helped him, too.
So, he decided, that instead of avoiding her, he'd just be there, and not ask her any stupid questions. She didn't need stupid questions. She needed a friend.