Hershel kept his eyes on the trail, clearly marked amongst the trees. He looked up every now and again, the woods a picture of tranquillity and earthly beauty. The trail had been etched into the earth by a motorcycle, many times over. It was the only sign something unnatural existed in these woods.
The air was humid, as the heat was already starting to creep up on them. He was breathing heavily, no longer a young man, of which he was reminded everyday. His children were leaving the nest, and venturing out into the world. One remained, his youngest. Beth had always been the sweet child, taking after her mother, his dearly beloved Annette. He had never expected any kind of drama from her.
He'd known where Daryl Dixon lived for a long time, probably from when he'd moved there. As far as he knew, he'd moved into that cabin over a decade ago. Daryl had only started working at the Dixon's Auto Shop after his father had passed though. Bad blood there, Hershel had surmised. Despite knowing of the cabin for years, he had never ventured near it. He had never had reason to, until now.
He had never expected to be talking to Daryl Dixon about her.
Hershel had told his youngest, sweet daughter that he was on a call, and she had smiled and waved good-bye, but her gaze was a little distant, as it had been lately. He'd debated within himself whether it was a good idea, but he realised that at some point his mind had been made up. He was a stubborn man, a trait that Beth had most definitely inherited from him.
Hershel had parked his truck under the shade of some trees, off the side of the road, knowing roughly the location of the cabin. He thought he'd actually seen it once or twice when he'd been down by the river, many years back.
The walk to the cabin was longer than he'd expected, and he was sweating slightly when it was finally in his sight.
Hershel paused, gripping a branch on a nearby tree as he took a breath.
Hershel would admit that his motives for inviting Daryl Dixon over for dinner hadn't all come under the one umbrella – he hadn't felt too inclined to thank him for anything. Daryl Dixon was the last person he had wanted Beth around. Beth was an adult now though, and after Annette passing, Hershel let her have some free reign. He had not known who had given Beth flowers at the wake. He'd left her outside, and she had come back in alone, clutching a bunch of white flowers tightly to her chest. At first he had thought perhaps Jimmy? But, Jimmy had been talking to Laura in the dining room. Those flowers had stayed in a vase in Beth's room, even after they had started to shrivel up and wither. Maggie had mentioned to him in a curious tone that Beth had seemed particularly upset that she'd thrown them out. After that night though, seeing them in the living room, he thought he had an idea.
And after seeing them outside, he was certain.
.
Hershel had heard the door shut from the kitchen. Shortly afterwards, he'd heard it shut again, this time a little softer, as though the person hadn't let the door slam against the frame. He paced around slowly to the living room, to see the space empty, and he walked over to the windows, peering out through the curtains.
He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he could see them just fine. He'd frowned, the lines on his face etched deeper than he would have liked, as he watched his daughter step closer to Daryl Dixon. Hershel watched as in turn, he leaned in, only slightly, but enough for Hershel to tense, before he leaned away and Hershel relaxed a little. But when Beth reached out and placed her hand on Daryl Dixon's arm he knew his little girl had her heart set. He knew his little girl…perhaps wasn't so little anymore.
Whatever Beth leaned in to say, Daryl hadn't taken it well. He had stepped away from her abruptly, his shoulders tense. She called after him, but he turned away. Hershel watched his daughter watch Daryl Dixon walk away, towards his bike. He had quickly gone outside, and he could tell the moment Beth became aware that she wasn't alone as she watched him drive away.
"Beth?" Hershel had asked, watching his daughter's reaction closely. "What happened?"
"Nothing, it's fine," she had answered quickly, not quite meeting his eyes before she abruptly turned away from him, walking back into the house. Hershel stared after her for a moment, before looking back out into the night, the light from Daryl Dixon's motorcycle gone.
He went back inside, hearing Beth's door shut upstairs as he reached the front door. He had never known her to spend so much time in her room until Annette passed. It wasn't a criticism, but it worried him.
It hadn't escaped him that Beth hadn't touched the piano since Annette passed, nor would she sing anymore. He had approached the house with a swelling in his heart as he could hear the piano, and then she had started to sing. Perhaps he should have let her continue, but he wanted to see for himself.
He had forgotten at that point that Daryl Dixon was coming over, not even noticing the motorcycle parked. He had been stunned to see Daryl Dixon, in his living room, leaning against the archway, his arms folded as he listened to his daughter play. He didn't look derisive, or bored. He had looked a little lost.
He'd been startled when the door opened, and Beth had jumped a little, twisting around on the seat.
.
Hershel stared up at the cabin, still holding on to the branch. He was a firm believer in redemption, and he was hoping Daryl Dixon would receive it.
He resumed walking towards the cabin slowly, and was just about to place his foot on the first step when the cabin door opened abruptly.
Hershel paused, looking up at the cabin to see Daryl Dixon emerge, his stance wary.
"Daryl." Hershel greeted him calmly, resting an arm against the railing.
Daryl didn't reply, his eyes narrowed as he waited, for what, Hershel didn't know.
"May I come in?" Hershel asked. "I'd like to talk to you."
"'Bout what?" Daryl asked, his tone less than friendly.
"I think you know what." Hershel's tone didn't exactly change, nor did it match Daryl's in hostility, but you couldn't say it was warm.
Hershel watched Daryl think for a moment, before shrugging, disappearing inside the cabin. It took a couple of minutes for him to ascend the steps, and he wasn't entirely surprised by the contents of the cabin when he reached the front door.
Threadbare and austere, the cabin wasn't very inviting. Daryl was grabbing a beer out of the fridge.
"I'd offer ya one, but I ain't sure that's a good idea," he said, a touch of disdain still evident in his voice before he cracked the bottle open, his back to Hershel.
Hershel's mouth twitched, as he continued making his way to the couch. He sat down heavily, the couch surprisingly comfortable. Daryl leaned against the counter, waiting for him to speak.
He let himself settle against the couch, before he looked at Daryl again.
"You think you're all alone out here." Hershel stated in his slow, weary tenor.
Daryl looked at him incredulously.
"Meet any neighbours on your way over here?"
Hershel smiled slightly, looking around the room. "I've always known where this cabin was."
"Congratulations." Daryl muttered, before taking another swig of his beer, swallowing hard. "So she finally told ya?"
Hershel looked at him sharply. "Told me what?"
They stared at each other in silence, Daryl breaking his gaze first, shifting against the counter.
"I don't know what happening between you and my daughter–"
"There ain't nothing happening." Daryl interrupted, his tone flat.
Hershel took a breath before continuing. "I don't know what's happening, but I know that isn't true. You might not be involved with my daughter," Hershel paused at this, noting Daryl's averted gaze, "but something upset her."
Daryl met Hershel's eyes again. Hershel considered him for a moment. His shoulders were hunched slightly, in a defensive stance.
"As I said, I don't know what happened–"
"So you stuck yer nose in anyway?" Daryl asked sarcastically.
"-But I suspect it's something she's not alone in." Hershel finished kindly. The shift in the younger man was hardly perceptible, but tension in the room eased somewhat as he recognised the old man didn't come for a fight.
"I think she'd like to see you." Hershel said, unsure whether or not he was doing the right thing, but willing to accept the consequences. Daryl nodded, albeit hesitantly.
Hershel stood up slowly, using the armrest for leverage.
He walked over to the door, stopping as he reached the threshold, turning to face Daryl, who was placing his beer down on the kitchen counter. "My daughter sees the best in people. She sees something in you, and I trust her. I…" Hershel hesitated, looking at the younger man, who suddenly seemed so much younger.
What he wanted to say was 'don't let me down. Don't let my daughter down'. However, he couldn't bring himself to say it. If he did, he would only confirm his doubts, which was something Daryl Dixon didn't need to hear. Hershel realised that the only person to ever have faith in Daryl Dixon was most likely his daughter. It was a concept that he would be unfamiliar with, and was not taking in his stride.
"Whatever was said, whatever was done, it isn't too late." Hershel finally managed to say, after a moment's hesitation. He didn't reply, and Hershel didn't bother bidding him farewell or anything like that.
As he slowly walked back to his truck, Hershel prayed that he had done the right thing. If he was honest for a moment, he was no longer sure which one of them needed to apologise, or if the situation even called for one. One thing they clearly had in common was their stubbornness. He had tried to speak to Beth but she had refused to talk about it. As stubborn as his daughter was, it was strange to see her waiting for someone. If he didn't know any better, he'd say Daryl Dixon was doing the same thing.
And so Hershel had decided that he would give Daryl Dixon a chance. If anyone deserved it, perhaps it was him.
For the other umbrella the dinner had fallen under had fallen through.
Hershel had heard the sound of Beth's door closing upstairs and had opened the front door, making his way through to the back of the house. He had picked up his phone from the kitchen counter, selecting his most recent contact. They picked up after only a couple of rings.
"He's gone."
"What happened?" Sheriff Grimes asked curiously.
Hershel leaned back against the counter with a sigh. "I'm not really sure."
There was a brief silence.
"Will you be rescheduling?"
"It seems unlikely."
There was a brief silence again. This time, Hershel could practically hear the wheels turning in the Sheriff's head.
"Well, all right then. G'night, Hershel."
Hershel smiled softly. "Sheriff."
Never one to pry, Sheriff Grimes.
A/N: Anddd another chapter. I would love to take a week off work and just work on this.
Thanks heaps to everyone who has followed, favourited, read and reviewed!