A/N: A big thank you to those that favorite and review and add this story to your alerts. I genuinely enjoy writing these two and to know that there are people out there enjoying this story really makes me happy. So a big thank you to you guys! And now time for the shameless plug. I did just publish the first chapter of a new Bethyl story. If AU's are your thing, go check it out. It's called Battlefield and it has lots of exciting things coming up. Again, thank you and please remember to review to let me know what you thought.
The putrid smell of death filled Beth's lungs and her heart plummeted into her stomach. Her instinct to fall into a defensive stance and fight took over and she struggled to free herself from the man who was holding her captive. She was going to die and it was going to be his fault. From the way he held her, she had to wriggle to free her head enough to look back at the relatively small herd coming their way. Adrenaline coursed through her and she tried to break free from his hold again, hearing his slew of curses as she did so.
"God damn it, Beth. Just stop."
That word again. Beth. Beth Beth Beth Beth Beth. It felt familiar in a way that nothing else had. She wanted to try the word out in her own mouth, but they were coming closer and he still had her pinned expertly beneath him. Her chest rose and fell heavily as she panicked and craned her neck to watch him so she didn't have to keep her eyes on the walking dead making their way towards them.
He was looking around, peering through the trees as if he was looking for someone. Or willing back up to show. He growled, a low, guttural sound as his hold loosened around her. Just as she was about to bolt, it tightened again. He was switching positions, pulling them upright and now she had no choice but to watch them as they stalked closer and closer. A vision in her head of him pushing her at them at the last moment to distract themselves with as he got away had her tense and she planted herself with the advantage if that was, in fact, his plan, then the tables would soon be turning.
But instead, he let her go. Had to, she realized, as he positioned his crossbow at his shoulder and took aim. She hesitated, for a reason she couldn't quite understand as they gained on them, so close now she could reach out and touch them. But he'd taken her knife. She was weaponless.
"Beth!" His voice called to her again and her head turned automatically to answer. Her eyes were on him, wide and wild. She watched as he reached down, pulling her knife free from a sheath it didn't quite fit and tossed it to her. She caught it, standing stunned and confused for a moment before instinct took over. The sound of the bolts flying free from the crossbow beat like a war drum and she tightened her grip on her knife just as she raised it to sink deep into the skull of the first walker that had made its way towards her. The sound of bodies dropping to the ground was almost thrilling; the bounce back in her step as she sunk her blade into the decomposing skulls of the undead. This was where she felt the most natural, the most at ease. She had almost forgotten about her kidnapper behind her, but as she became aware of him, she became acutely aware of the pattern they'd fallen into together. Synchronized movements that seemed neither planned nor practiced. They were entirely natural and Beth tensed again, a strange annoyance at the idea making her bristle. Distracted for just a moment by him – the way he moved, the way he moved with her – was just enough time for a walker to get the better of her, its decomposing arms grabbing her shoulders. A panicked scream tore through her throat, a bad move on her part that she realized a moment too late. Everything seemed to happen at once, Daryl turned with his crossbow raised and let a bolt fly into the eye socket of the walker holding her, just moments before its teeth sunk into the skin of her shoulder. It fell to the ground and she shook, pulling away from it as fast as she could manage. But her scream had the others headed in her direction and she was severely out numbered. She knocked the one closest to her back with the heel of her boot, almost losing her footing as she struggled to right herself and plunged her knife into the side of the skull of the walker coming up on the last one's flank. It dropped to the ground with a satisfying thud.
But they kept coming. Suddenly Daryl was there by her side letting bolts loose and when they got too close, he dropped his crossbow to hang around his back and shoved his blade into the brains of the walkers he could reach. They fell into a pattern, Beth at his side, taking what he couldn't reach and vice versa. It was almost nice, as she lost herself in the instinctual fight for her life, to know she had back up. And to know that he seemed to know the art in which she hunted. She didn't have time to stop and realize why that might have been strange. She was just grateful to be alive. She'd deal with him once they dealt with them. The walker she'd kicked over was up and coming towards her again and she stuck her blade into the side of his head and pulled it free with an easy tug. She blew out an exasperated breath and spared time for a quick look around. Most of the herd were now lying truly dead on the ground around them. There were only about seven or eight more that she could see and that, she knew, was when the fun began. She broke rank, charging at the walker closest to her and raised her knife high above her head, bringing it crashing down into the top of its skull. She kicked it free from her knife with the heel of her boot and smiled wickedly as it fell to the ground.
The next one was coming up on her side and she didn't hesitate as she readied herself with her knife poised until it fell dead in front of her with a bolt through its eye. Her head whipped around to look at him, a smug hint of a smile on his face. Her eyes narrowed in a glare, but it was all the time she could spare before she had to turn back and waste the next three shuffling unsteadily towards her. The first one fell easy, her knife through its eye socket, but she misjudged the time she had between them and the next one was on her before she could get her sure footing. She took a large step backwards, but her footing was off and she fell on her backside, the walker quick to follow. She screamed as it toppled down on top of her, clumsy hands reaching for her, its teeth snapping hungrily and threatening as she did her best to keep it at arm's length. Her knife had fallen just out of reach and with the dead weight on top of her, she couldn't shift enough to grab it. She could feel its hot, rotten breath on her. Close. Too close.
It had a large bite missing from his neck, the black oozing blood claiming the porcelain of her fingers as she tried to shove him away. She pushed and wriggled and cried as she tried and failed again to reach her knife. It pressed closer and it was all she could do to keep it from her skin. She could faintly hear the sound of the crossbow letting loose the bolts that never came for the walker on top of her. That was when she realized what he was doing.
He was leaving her to die.
She tried one last time as the walker edged even closed to make a grab for her knife, but it was too far out of reach. She let out a defeated cry but she shoved one last time and got just the leverage she needed to scoot out from underneath it just enough to grab the knife and in one fluid motion, it was embedded in its skull and she struggled to pull herself out from underneath the weight. Once she was free she could see that Daryl had done away with the rest and he was watching her. She bent over then, her stomach churning violently as the very little contents it held emptied themselves in a pool at her feet. Hot tears accompanied the burn in her throat and once the dry heaves passed, she gripped the handle of her knife tight in her hand and turned towards Daryl, the anger as hot as the burn in her throat. But he seemed to be a step ahead of her – again – and his crossbow was pointed at her as she slipped into a defensive stance.
"Yer gonna wanna be rethinkin' that, girl. I ain't tryin' to hurt ya."
She stared down the crossbow aimed at her head, standing tall and stoic. "Doesn't look that way from where I'm standin'."
Daryl held firm and she knew it was because he had her beat. She'd be dead the moment before she decided to attack so she slipped the knife into her sheath.
"Thanks for the help," she added, shoving the toe of her boot into the walker she'd fought off. Alone. "By the way."
"Said you could take care of yerself. Y'did it."
The words were so familiar they sucked the air right from her lungs. It was a world ago, but she remembered it now. Clear as if she'd lived it only the day before. She'd had the same feeling even then. It took her a moment before she remembered how to breathe again.
"Beth." His voice was quiet, pained and she looked up, a reflex. She blinked, breathing heavy as the anger and the hurt and the fear of the day washed over her at once. She was a girl in a clearing surrounded by walkers, and he was a man standing across from her with a loose hand on his crossbow. And it all came back. Like a train had run her down where she stood, everything that she had pushed down, everything that she had allowed herself to forget... it all came rushing back and she felt sick again. Maggie and Rick and Carl. Judith. Glenn. Daryl. Her daddy.
A howl of pain exploded from the back of her throat and she collapsed where she stood, folding in on herself as her arms hugged her waist as if it was the only thing keeping her together. She was vaguely aware of Daryl as he came to kneel beside her, heard the whisper of her name – her name – against her head. It was a foreign familiarity, the feel of him beside her. It belonged to a different time, a different life, a different Beth. Whoever it was that he saw when he looked at her was gone and she'd done everything she could do to forget only to be undone in a case of bad timing.
She didn't want this. She didn't want Old Beth's life. Old Beth died the minute she woke up in that hospital and she'd buried her and her old life along with it. And now it was back. He was back. But what about the rest of them? Who was gone? Who that she cared about was gone now? She couldn't do this again. She couldn't see her daddy's face every single time she closed her eyes, the sword coming down on him and watching him as he watched it happen, still alive enough to feel it happen, powerless to do anything. She couldn't feel Maggie's hand wrapped tightly in hers as they cried together and watched the bloody scene from fences away. It was a hazy vibrant memory and it was a moment later that she became aware of his hand on her arm. She flinched away wildly, nearly tripping over a dead walker at her feet to get away.
She could tell he was confused, he didn't know what to do. She wasn't Beth, not his Beth, and he had no idea what she needed from him. How did she tell him she didn't need anything? she didn't want it? But her panic felt white hot on her throat as she shrunk away. She could still feel the ghost of his fingers wrapped around her arm even when they were firmly by his sides and she was well out of reach. This wild, broken girl must have looked like she'd killed and was now wearing that girl he used to know. She swallowed as the panic slowly eased away and she could remember where she was and that she was, for the most part, safe. This was why she was alone. She didn't need people, people only hurt her. They touched her and they took things away from her and they messed her all up. And thank you very much, but she was damn good at being alone. She'd survived so far on instinct alone.
She could feel him looking at her, but she couldn't meet his gaze because she knew what she would see when she did. He didn't speak and she didn't dare look. But after a long moment, she finally did. And though the eye contact felt strange to her, she held a steady gaze so when she spoke he would know that she was serious.
"I ain't comin' with ya."