Okay! So I've decided to carry on with the story, as a Season 4 AU, because why not? We know how season 4a goes, and why not explore where it didn't go?!
Thank you so much for all the encouraging reviews (especially the guests I can't reply to!). It has been such a gratifying experience to share this with y'all. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
…
"Preemptive nostalgia of the possible but doubtful…
And always, something reminds me of you."
"Paper Hearts," by Why? on the album Mumps, Etc.
…
The light filtered dimly through the dirty window, illuminating a big wooden dresser pushed up against the wall. It had been a nice dresser, just like the rest of this whole big house was nice. Various bits of jewelry were scattered across the top of the thing, glinting weakly in the streaky light. A couple of rings, some necklaces, a handful of bracelets. Looked like some decent shit, too. Daryl had just finished rummaging through this upstairs bedroom, filling up a bag with clothes and other bullshit when the jewelry had caught his eye.
He tilted his head a bit, carefully listening as he looked around the room. Daryl could hear Zach rummaging around in the room across the hall, muffled sounds of opening and closing dresser doors and throwing stuff around. It was just them that day, doing a sweep of a development not too far away from the prison. The place was mostly abandoned, only had to take out a few walkers earlier in the morning, no sight of anything living but them. They were looking for pretty much anything and everything at that point, clothes or canned goods, maybe some medicine if they were lucky. They'd brought the SUV with them, and had managed to load it up pretty well so far. Only had a few more houses to go through, then they could get back to the prison. Going by way the sun was hanging, they might actually make it back before dinner was over.
Daryl unhooked his thumb from the strap of his crossbow, let himself run his hand through the jewelry. Normally shit like this didn't catch his eye, since he couldn't eat it or use it to kill anybody, but there was something nice about how all this stuff looked. Mostly silver. He ran one finger over a thin silver bracelet, a small blue stone hanging off one end. He picked it up, staring at the silver coil in his palm for a moment.
"Anything good in here? That other room's pretty much a bust. Just a bunch of papers." Zach's voice came from right over his shoulder, and Daryl instantly clenched his fingers around the bracelet and dropped his hand. "Oh, look at this stuff," the kid said, and Daryl reluctantly shifted to let the kid shuffle up to the dresser. Zach picked up a necklace, a tiny bird pendent hanging off it. "Bet Beth would like this," the kid said happily. "She lost her other necklace, you know. That heart one."
Of course Daryl knew. She'd lost it nearly a week ago, just a few days after she'd told him how mad she'd been at him. Beth had been frantic, forcing Maggie and Glen to help her scour the cell block, even enlisting a rather reluctant Carl to search under the cafeteria tables. Daryl had been looking for it as well, but he wasn't about to advertise the fact that he'd been pacing the cell block at night, trying to find that damn bit of silver.
Zach hadn't kept his interest in Beth a secret. Followed the damn girl around like a puppy, offering to help her carry stuff, promising to help her find her necklace. Wasn't really a bad kid, truth be told. Did as he was told, willing to work hard. Daryl's hand clenched even harder all the same, though, and the tiny metal links of the bracelet dug into the skin of his hand. He silently watched the kid stuff the necklace in his jacket pocket.
The kid looked over at him, looking happier than a pig in shit. "Anything else good in here?"
"Nah," Daryl said, keeping his features impassive. "Let's get this shit down to th' car." Zach picked up his own bag, walking out the bedroom door and towards the stairs. Daryl stood still for a moment, until he heard the kid's heavy tread on the stairs. Unclenching his fist, he dropped the bracelet back on the dresser with the rest of the scattered jewelry. He didn't spare the room a second glance, just grabbed his bag and left the place behind.
His mood grew darker as they ransacked the last two houses. Daryl smoked cigarette after cigarette, blowing through a pack more quickly than normal. He grunted if the kid spoke to him. By the time they'd thrown the last of their haul into the car and climbed into the front seats, Daryl behind the wheel, he was more than ready to punch something. He tried to keep his mind blank, though. Didn't think about that damn necklace in Zach's pocket or the bracelet still sitting on that dresser, now miles behind him.
Daryl swore under his breath, feeling like a screw stuck too far into a sheet of plywood. He forced his eyes to scan the road. They had passed a few scattered walkers roaming along the road, wandering aimlessly. No herds in sight, which was good.
"Hey," the kid said. "What did you do before?" No need to ask what the kid meant by before.
Daryl looked at Zach out of the corner of his eye. "Nothin'," he ground out. Wasn't about to play twenty questions with Romeo over there. Didn't even want to be in same car. "What's it to you?"
The kid laughed. "I was just thinking, if none of this had happened, I'd have graduated by now. Probably working in some office somewhere. Just curious what it was like, before all this."
Daryl loosened his grip on the steering wheel a little and answered, against his better judgment. "Take a guess, then, college boy." He scanned the woods to the side of the road as Zach turned a considering eye on him. Probably only a half hour from the prison, now. That development hadn't been a bad haul. Not as much food or medicine as he and Rick had been hoping for, but a fair amount of clothes. Keep everybody warm. Most everyone was starting to look a little ragged.
After a few long moments, Zach finally ventured a guess. "Marine?"
Daryl raised an eyebrow, turning to face him. He spoke quietly, voice hard. "I look military to you?"
"I guess not…" The kid trailed off, then spoke again. "What about-"
Daryl cut him off. "Ya had your guess."
"Next time we're out, can I guess again?" Daryl ground his teeth together. College boy was probably trying to make a joke. Was Daryl just supposed to admit he used to work maybe thirty hours a week at a rusted-out auto shop? That he'd made dirty money helping his brother out, and more than once? Merle didn't come around much, but when he did, there were strings attached.
"You do that." Daryl's voice was grim again. Zach kept his mouth shut after that, and Daryl was grateful. Kid still seemed cheerful enough, tapping his fingers on the center console and whistling from time to time. Wasn't about to actually do it, but he kept his mind occupied the rest of the ride thinking about ramming his fist into the kid's gut. He knew all about hating people you didn't really feel anything about, about feeling things that didn't make sense together. It was easy to hate someone just as much as you didn't give a shit about them. Zach was getting involved with Beth. None of Daryl's business, but he let it gnaw at him all the same. Kid might be good enough for her. Might not be. Daryl wanted to be judge, jury and executioner just as much as he never wanted to think about it again.
He was still fuming a little when they pulled into the safety of the prison yard. He spied Carl and that skinny kid with glasses rambling across the yard as he got out, and slammed the door behind him a little harder than strictly necessary. "Hey, Carl. Beanpole," he called. "Git over here." He'd pulled his bow out of the backseat and was slinging it over his shoulder when the kids made it to the car. "Help college boy here get all this bullshit inside. I gotta go talk to your dad. Where's he at?"
Carl eyed Daryl a little warily, and Beanpole looked a little scared, pushing his plastic framed glasses up his sweaty nose. Carl's hand shifted closer to his gun before he answered. "He's over by the water pumps. Did something happen out there? Did you see-"
"Nothing happened, kid. Get to work, all of you," he interrupted, sparing one last glare for Zach. Daryl knew he was being harsh, but he didn't feel like being polite anymore. Been nice enough all day. He heard Carl peppering Zach with questions, but didn't bother to listen to the kid's responses.
He made his way across the yard, not returning anyone's waves or greetings. Didn't stop for anyone until he reached Rick, tinkering with the hose for the water pump. They'd found a hole in it last night, and now Rick was trying to force together two sections of cut-apart hose so he could clamp them together.
"Hey, man," Rick said without looking up. "How'd it go today?"
Daryl watched Rick try to jam the two sections of hose together forcefully. "Fine."
Rick's hands never stilled, but he saw the man's eyebrows go up a bit. "You sure?"
Daryl turned away, surveying the laundry drying not too far from where Rick was kneeling. "Just getting hard to find shit out there. Besides, I ain't a damn babysitter."
Rick finally looked up, setting aside the clamp he'd been wrangling with. "Is Zach causing problems? I thought you said he'd been good out there." Daryl glanced back, and saw that Rick's face looked hard, the cop look coming over his face. That look Rick wore back when he was in charge of things.
Turing his eyes back to the laundry, Daryl forced himself to keep from huffing out an angry sigh. "Kid's fine. Just ain't used to going out with strangers and kids, is all." Daryl turned back to Rick, keeping his face flat. Wasn't about to explain to Rick that all this was over Zach bringing home a necklace for Beth. It'd been some time since Daryl had flown off the handle. Wasn't about to embarrass Rick and himself by going crazy over something that didn't matter. Rick would only tell him to cool it, and to keep himself away from Beth. That's probably what Daryl ought to do. Was letting himself get too wrapped up, and it wasn't helping anyone. Rick had held Daryl back from fucking somebody up more than his fair share.
Rick picked the clamp back up again, eyes darting around yard, stopping on the walkers at the fence before lingering on the folks working out in the yard. "It's definitely different around here. I'll give you that. It'll just take some time to get used to all these folks around. Most of 'em don't know what it's really been like out here. Got too used to Woodbury."
Daryl grunted in reply. He watched Rick fumbling for a minute, the man swearing under his breath as he failed to jam one bit of hose inside the other yet again. "Ya know, all that'd go in a lot easier if you just git some Vaseline on the hose."
Rick just looked at him for a moment, then started laughing. And after a minute, Daryl just started laughing, too.
…
It was nearly pitch black in the showers, but his eyes adjusted easily to the perpetually damp room so he didn't bother with any sort of light. He'd taken a late watch shift, still feeling off about the day's excursion with Zach and knowing he was in no mood for any of the Woodbury people or seeing Beth with her new necklace. College boy had probably tripped all over himself to put it on her himself. Daryl had thought taking watch was the best way out. When he'd finished up, though, he was still wound tighter than a spring. Figured it wouldn't hurt to take a shower, since it was late enough for most everyone to be in bed for the rest of the night. He did a quick scan of the place, making sure it was really empty. He finally settled his stuff on an unoccupied bench and started stripping down. Shooting one last look at the shower room door, he stepped under the spray.
The lukewarm water was nice enough, especially after having nothing at all for a while there. It'd taken a lot of work to get all this up and running again. The water made him feel a little better, working at the tightness in his back, washing away some of the anger he was feeling. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, trying to breathe deeply. He'd felt better after talking with Rick, but he still felt like there was something hanging on his back.
Beth never said anything to him about their conversation out by the laundry line. She was just the same as ever, smiling and friendly. Wasn't like she treated him different than anybody else in here. She was always just nice like that, nice to everybody. Looked out for Carl and Lil' Asskicker and the other kids. Wanted Rick and Maggie and all them to feel good, like maybe they could make this work out. She'd wanted Daryl to know she was sorry about Merle, and that he was back where he was needed.
Trouble was, a part of him wanted Beth to be different with him. Didn't want to be just like Rick or Glenn to her. He knew she was none of his business, beyond that she was a part of his group, but he just felt something about her tugging at him. Daryl wasn't really sure what he even wanted from her. Just liked looking at her, seeing that soft look on her face when she held Jude. Felt proud of the way she could kill walkers without blinking, then go right inside, wash up, and go on taking care of all those kids or some other thing to keep her hands busy, all without missing a beat. Just seeing her had always felt like enough. Until now.
He squeezed his eyes shut as he rinsed his hair, trying to keep his mind blank. Daryl wasn't sure when he'd picked that habit up, but it kept him from losing his mind too much. It never made him feel good, all those times he lost his cool and had to be held back. He just didn't know what else to do, sometimes. Often, in those blank minutes, trying to calm down, he'd see Merle as a walker, see himself stabbing his brother in the face over and over again, crying like a fucking bitch. Something about that sobered him up quick. It made him think that being a Dixon didn't have to mean flying off the handle. Didn't have to mean never thinking before going off and tearing things apart. This wasn't the same world. Nothing was the same, least of all Daryl, and he didn't want to be the man he used to be.
He hadn't been this unhinged over a girl since he was twenty-three and dating the waitress at the diner near a muffler repair joint he used to work at. He would drink a lot in those days, and she was good to look at. Daryl chased after her for months, buying her drinks and taking her out for rides. Couldn't remember why they broke up. But he remembered the after, when he spent three days drunk out of his mind and throwing empty beer cans at the targets in his backyard. Thinking about it for a minute, Daryl realized that all that had happened more than ten years ago. His back cracked as he stretched his arms above his head, letting the last bit of warm water finish its work. Daryl slumped forward, feeling older than he had in a while. He hadn't noticed at first, but the water had started to run cold, making his skin felt tight. The arrow scar on his side, from when that damn horse nearly killed him, ached worse than it had in a long while. Even the scars on his back, ones he sometimes managed to forget about, throbbed under the cold water. Daryl stood under the cold water for a moment, one hand stretched behind his back, fingers absently tracing the smooth lines and knotted lumps of scar tissue. Strange how, with no one really seeing them or knowing about them or his dad, he'd managed to forget about them for a while. One blunt and cracked fingernail scraped against his enflamed skin and he cursed, yanking his hand away. He twisted the water off roughly.
He toweled off quickly, not wanting to risk anybody coming in while he was still in there. He put his clothes on in a hurry too, suddenly feeling dog tired. Daryl took his time walking back to his cell, though, checking the doors and locks and making sure everyone was in their proper cells. Whole place was quiet that night, just the sounds of sleep and groaning bunks. Beth's cell was even quiet, just soft breathing from both the girls.
He still hadn't found that damn necklace, either. In the past week, he had found himself scanning the floors at all hours of the day, hoping it had just been overlooked and was lying around somewhere. Beth always wore the thing, and he'd overheard Maggie telling Glenn that it had been a gift from her parents when she turned sixteen. Daryl kept hoping it'd turn up for her, but he was starting to think it wasn't likely. Sometimes, especially in this world, things just went missing and there was nothing to be done for it. Made him feel like shit, though.
He climbed into bed, feeling all of his thirty-five years at one time. In the familiar grey of his cell, he reckoned that maybe it wasn't such a bad thing Zach had brought her back the necklace. Beth could probably use with something pretty. And if it had to come from that whistling kid, happy-go-lucky college boy, then so be it. Wasn't like Daryl brought her anything back. And it wasn't his place to do that for her. He wasn't her daddy, wasn't her boyfriend, wasn't her brother. Wasn't really blood, and he wasn't about to become anything else. Daryl could keep doing what he'd been up to. All he had to do was keep an eye on her, and keep his distance.
...
Daryl spent the next day out in the yard with Rick, who was starting to turn into a regular Farmer Joe. Carol joined them for part of the morning, which didn't surprise Daryl since she seemed to have a finger in most everything going on around the prison. Rick and Carol chatted a lot about their plans for things, but Daryl mostly listened. The way he saw it, he wasn't much for planning the interior of the place or figuring out how to keep everybody happy and organized. He saw himself as doing what needed to be done on the outside. World had always been broken up by who you were and what you could do. It had turned out he wasn't bad at killing walkers, going on runs or hunting, and that was the sort of person Rick needed around here. And it felt good to be useful, as opposed to having everybody think he was just redneck trash. He didn't much care for the farming, but he didn't have to do it all that often and Daryl would much rather be helping Rick out than stuck inside cleaning or some shit like that.
"I don't think Carl's been going to them classes Carol's been doing," Rick said, late in the afternoon. They'd been working mostly in silence since Carol had gone in to gather up the kids for a lesson. "I don't know if I can make him go."
Daryl took a break from digging rocks out a partially cleared patch of dirt. "Probably can't." He looked steadily at Rick, who looked a little lost.
"His mother would've wanted him to go. She wanted things to be as normal as possible. Lori wouldn't want to see him bein' like this." Rick rubbed the back of a dirty hand across his forehead. He sighed and jammed his shovel into the ground a couple of times.
Daryl was silent for a minute, thinking about the way Beth liked to keep things normal. Daryl wasn't sure how much he thought of Lori, knew without anyone saying it that she and Rick had their problems, and never much considered what she had been up to while she was alive. But, as far as mothers went, she wasn't bad, especially given what they were all living in. Beth and Lori, anybody that helped keep the inside of the prison together and giving out hope while holding onto a baby, folks like that needed people like Daryl and Rick, and maybe someday Carl. Daryl thought back to the comforting sound of familiar lullabies spilling from Beth's lips and Lil' Asskicker's answering chatter. Maybe, at the end of it all, in a place like this, you couldn't really have one without the other.
"Carl could probably stand to go to Carol's classes." Daryl pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket and shook one out. "But Carl ain't a kid." He put the cigarette between his lips and lit it, taking a long drag before fixing his gaze on the sheriff. "He knows what's out there and he ain't about to forget. Not a bad thing, Rick."
Rick seemed to slump a bit at that, but kept his eyes on the spot he'd planted just this morning. "I just want something different for him."
"Me too, man," he replied quietly, their eyes not quite meeting, and by tacit agreement, he and Rick resumed their work. Wanting something different, wanting the impossible. None of that was a mystery to Daryl.
Rick was thoughtful for the rest of the day, not talking much as they cleared out their patch of dirt and prepped it for planting. Didn't bother Daryl none that they kept to themselves, as it seemed like everyone always had plenty to think about. He wasn't in any position to tell Rick what to do with Carl, he could only say what he saw. He'd said his mind, and Rick could figure out what was best on his own. Rick was like a brother to him, and not a shit brother like Merle had been, blood or not.
Strange enough, he wondered if he might be able to talk with Rick about the dark thoughts eating at the back of his mind. Daryl wondered how Rick would react if he said something about Beth Greene, how looking at her made him feel like he was laying out in the grass under a bright morning sun, like the warmth he felt was something that went all the way inside, not just on the skin.
Wanting a woman was nothing new, and he had nothing special to say about that. And nothing new with not wanting any other man around her. But Beth was young. And for Daryl, the urge to touch her, possess her, be a man with her was tangled in with the desire to simply stand back and watch her, like touching her might ruin that pretty picture, might take it all away. And underneath all that, he couldn't fathom a world where she'd even want his hands on her like that. Beth cared about people, and if she was especially good to him, it was born out her need to be good to those who needed it most. Like being good to Carl after his ma died, whether or not he told her to. He was wrong for thinking of anything more than that.
Thoughts of Beth always circled back to the same thing: he had to keep his distance. Keep an eye out, but that was it. And he couldn't figure out why he had to keep reminding himself of that. Wasn't really like him to move from a decision once it'd been made.
He and Rick went in for dinner when Carol waved them in. When he entered the cafeteria, Daryl was unable to stop his eyes from doing a quick scan, and he relaxed when he saw Beth sitting at a table, wedged between her sister and her dad, and that Zach was a few tables over with some Woodbury people. Not only that, but Beth wasn't wearing any necklace. As he dug into his dinner, he eyed college boy speculatively and tried to figure out if the kid actually looked a bit pissed or if that was just his imagination taking over. He had to force himself to join in the conversation between Rick and Carol, feign an interest in the lesson plans Carol was talking about. Of course, from what Daryl could see, Rick's mind was still out with his crops, and Carol was getting a little exasperated, judging by the set of her mouth. Couldn't strictly blame Carol, either. Rick was getting a little wrapped up in his farming. He'd spent all morning talking about livestock. Daryl decided it was probably best to keep his mouth shut and make a hasty exit to his mechanic-corner and enjoy his solitude. Didn't like being put in the middle of those two.
Daryl did just that after wolfing down the rest of his meal. Carol's portion was barely touched, and Rick's had been abandoned for the moment. Deciding not to draw any attention to himself, he settled for slinking out while he could, grabbing his dishes and crossbow with all the stealth he could manage, picking a moment when the pair was pretty engaged. Growing up in confined spaces with a bunch of assholes had taught him a thing or two about getting the fuck out of dodge.
Beth noticed him though, a smile crossing her face as he walked past her table. She had Judith in her arms, hair in its usual disarray around her pale face. He nodded back at her, feeling nervous. Their eyes locked for a minute, before he let his slide away, checking where Hershel and Maggie were looking. He felt better when he realized their eyes were on Glenn, who was fiddling with that damn camera again and chattering away happily. Something that felt an awful lot like guilt gnawed at his stomach at that, the idea that he'd rather nobody saw his eyes on Beth. He didn't look back, though, and decided he wasn't about to think on that right then.
The days were starting to get longer, so it was still pretty light out by the time he made it to his corner of the yard. He felt better in the comfortably familiar sprawl of tools and supplies. He'd finally managed to push everything from his mind, and Daryl had resolved to work on his motorcycle. Wanted to get the oil changed up, clean up some of the grease, give the thing a once over. Thing would only run well if he took care of it, and he didn't need to get stuck up shit crick without a paddle any more than he already was. The fact that it was all he had of Merle didn't hurt, either. He hated his brother, hated the way he'd run off time after time, leaving him with his dad, or just plain alone. Hated that even when he was around, the drugs and drinking and troublemaking kept him from really being around. Didn't mean, though, that he didn't miss his brother, didn't want to keep something of him around. Dixons might not talk about love, but they were blood, and the words didn't have to be bandied about for them to matter.
While he was working, he started thinking more about getting a big group together to hit up that big store a ways out. Going on these small runs, hitting up house after house, wasn't working. It was dangerous to try to tame an entire neighborhood, running in and out of houses. And there was never any guarantee that any of those houses had anything in them. Going to the big store might be more of an initial danger, because he had no idea what might be inside. But clearing out one location would be the easiest option. It'd be a place with a pretty bit reserve of supplies, too. Realistically, they could keep using it for a while. The biggest challenge, in Daryl's mind, was figuring out how many people should go, and who that group should be. Michonne might show up soon, but she might not. Never knew what to expect with her, except that she wanted the Governor dead, and with good reason. Men like that never stopped. And anybody that had had any pull over Merle had to be a sick son of a bitch.
Once the bike was all cleaned up to his satisfaction, it was heading on full dark. Daryl felt stiff from being hunched over the garden with Rick all day, and when he stood up, he stretched his arms over his hands, trying to work out the aches in his shoulders and back. The air was a bit cool on his bare arms, but he wasn't bothered by it. Felt nice, really, after being out in the sun all day. He let his arms fall, running a dirty hand through the hair at the back of his head. His mind was quiet as he gathered up all his tools, putting them back in their cases, loosely organized in a way that he'd been practicing for years.
The moon was coming out bright that night as it got darker, falling on the nearby walkers. Crowd was starting to get a little big, and he knew he'd be spending the next day killing off as many of them as he could. Wasn't his favorite job, but it had to be done. It was better than being on the same side of the fence as all those walkers, and that's what would happen if the herd got too big and knocked it down. He grunted in annoyance as he surveyed them, wiping down a wrench with his rag. When he was done, he carefully closed his cases and gave his bike one last look, one side of his mouth pulling up in something resembling a smile.
Daryl had only gone a few feet away from his personal junk yard when a tiny gleam of light on the pavement caught his eye. He narrowed his eyes, then crouched, not really believing what he saw just in front of his own feet.
A heart shaped pendent, one small heart inside of another, was inches from his scuffed boots. He shook his head as he reached out to pick up. Damn charm was so tiny he had to pinch the stupid thing to pick it up. He frowned a bit when he saw the pendent hadn't help up too well out here. The two little heart-shaped bits were separating, a little bent away from each other. How many times had he walked out here, probably stepped on the damn thing, driven his motorcycle or dragged something heavy over it? Daryl hadn't really been looking for it outside and not at all on this end of the yard.
Wasn't really any reason for her to be over here, in his side of the yard. He put that thought away, though, with the other things about her he'd decided not to think about.
He looked around again, but didn't see the chain anywhere nearby, and the damn thing was probably broken. Daryl applied a bit of gentle pressure to the smaller heart, trying to get it to line up with the bigger one. He'd barely touched it when it snapped away, the two hearts now separated. "Motherfucker," he cursed under his breath, examining the two pieces. He noticed that even the loop to string the chain through was missing. He had the sudden thought that the delicate thing was about to wear away into dust just from being in his hands, and he had to smile a bit at that.
Wrapping his rag around the two broken halves of the pendent, he stood up and carefully put the bundle in his pocket. Somewhere over in the yard, in one of his cases, he had quite a bit of black leather cord. Might not be silver, but it'd probably be sturdier in the long run. Daryl only had to rummage around for a short while before he found what he was looking for in with his collection of spark plugs. He shoved the tangled length cord into his other pocket. It was getting on full dark at that point, and he'd do better in the prison where he could maybe sit at a table and use some light.
There were still some people up and about when he got in, taking up much of the cafeteria. Pauline, the woman from the kitchens whose husband had been a hunter, was sitting with a couple of other women, apparently mending some clothes. He hoped none of his stuff was in that pile. Daryl had all his stuff the way he wanted it and didn't need anyone trying to fix it and making a mess of it. Pauline waved at him when she caught sight of him, and he nodded back, ducking his head when she smiled at him and feeling that familiar warmth on the back of his neck.
He headed off to his cell, where he figured he could string the necklace together in private. Last thing he needed was anyone thinking he was taking an interest in jewelry making. Daryl sat on the edge of his bunk, grumbling under his breath as he tried to untangle enough cord for a necklace from the knotted ball. He spent an awful long time picking at the ball of leather string with his nails and going cross-eyed from staring at the little knots that kept appearing, two for every one he untangled. He was starting to feel mighty irritable, but when he had a cord long enough, he felt a lot less tense. After cutting the cord with his knife and tossing the rest of the tangled ball into a corner of his cell, Daryl fished his rag out of his pocket. He opened it up carefully, not wanting to drop either of the little hearts. He polished them up as best he could, and he felt relieved to see they weren't too scratched up from their time outdoors.
At first, Daryl just strung the hearts onto the cord, figuring he could just do a couple of sliding knots and leave well enough alone. He held the necklace up to the limited light in his cell, making sure it hung okay. The two silver hearts jangled together a bit as he did that, a real soft noise, the soft yellow light dancing on the rocking hearts. Frowning a bit, Daryl considered the noise. Quiet, maybe, but maybe not quiet enough. If a walker were new enough, hungry enough, that little bit of noise might be all it'd need to catch wind of her. He looped the cord, tying a quick knot around one heart, then the other, anchoring them to a set part of the cord and keeping them just far enough apart that they wouldn't make any noise at all. Daryl finished it off by tying a couple of sliding knots. He held it up again, watching the swing and sway of the hearts for a minute. Didn't look too bad, but it sure as shit didn't look good. Hopefully Beth was one of those girls that didn't mind the homemade look.
Daryl stood suddenly, balling the red rag around the makeshift necklace before stuffing it into his pocket. He felt some strange, restless energy running through him. The necklace was burning a hole in his pocket, making him feel foolish for reasons that he didn't want to consider. It was still pretty early, wasn't it? He could just hand it over to her and never think about it again. Maybe she wouldn't even be in her cell yet. He could just leave it there and that would be that.
He looked around his cell for a moment, feeling lightheaded like he'd just drunk a 40, and too quickly at that. Judging by the hushed chatter he heard floating around the cell block, it was getting on pretty late, and people would be getting to bed soon. Contradicting himself, he decided it was getting to be too late to be going visiting. Especially with the necklace.
Daryl groaned a bit, sitting back down. He kicked off his boots and laid back in bed, still fully dressed. Stared up at the ceiling, counting cracks until everything was silent. He'd do his rounds and then he'd go back to bed. He'd decide what to do with the necklace in the morning.
...
A/N: I know it wasn't the most exciting of chapters, and there wasn't really much Beth/Daryl action going on (hardly any, really). But! The way I see it, Daryl's not ever just going to jump right on any woman. Like Norman Reedus has insisted in several interviews, any Daryl romance is going to be slow and awkward. I plan on sticking to that (although, in some interviews he's said a sex scene would involve premature ejaculation and subsequent crying in a corner. I don't think I'm going to deliver on that...). Plus, now that all this insular Daryl's-own-mind conversation is out of the way, we can get to the REAL stuff. Like, right in the next chapter, shit's gonna get real. Daryl and Beth will actually have a conversation next chapter, she might get her necklace back. There might even be sustained eye contact and accidental touching! You never know what these kids'll get up to.
With that said! I have a general idea of where I want this story to go. However, it's not 100% fleshed out. I would love, love, love to hear from y'all anything you do want to see, as well as what you really don't want to see. I've been back and forth on some ideas, because while this fic is obviously going to be AU, I want to try to keep it as close to canon as I can manage. So, please! Let me know what you think! Share your thoughts with me! I'd love to hear what you all are thinking.
Oh! Before I forget to mention. I'm in the UK, meaning I don't get to watch the show until about 24 hours after it airs in the US. So, please keep this in mind when mentioning the show in messages/reviews/etc. I know we're supposed to be getting a Beth/Daryl episode this week, and my poor little heart is about to break. Don't want any of the possible romantic goodness spoiled for me!
Okay, that's enough nonsense from me. Thanks for reading!