We have a Beth P.O.V for a while! :o tell me what you think of that! JAnyway hope you enjoy- I admit I'm waiting for a muse to hit me, writing is so tiring at the moment and only 'Burn it all' is giving me any ideas that I can adequately type out without sounding too fluffy or too depressing….
The sky reflected the stars so beautifully Daryl found himself staring like some pussy of a girl might do. What's worse he found himself how long ago there had been a night as clear as this, not since they burnt that fucking shack down- that surly was a sign. God? Are yougoing to let me find her? The heavens were exactly as that day, a deep blue bordering onto nothingness or endless depths depending how you squinted. He would love to sleep, instead he thought of the parallels of that night to this- the smell of burning still there in the air after another three day's walk- perhaps clinging to their clothes, the weariness and the stars in the night sky. The same as that night. The same as her eyes that night.
Beth had looked at him, her voice breaking with emotion. Normally he would take that time to run- to get himself out before he was in too deep. But like the frog in cold water he was somehow realising how invested he had been, even then, when she had looked at him, with heartbreak in her eyes. And he hadn't been able to look away. The weight of her words had punched him in the stomach.
''That's how incredibly stupid I am''
Her eyes filled with sad tears, he was sure if he leant in closer he would see the sad reflection of Herschel Greene at Christmas playing with a tiny Beth- or some shit like that. But that's why he was scared of getting close, in case her pain was somehow projective of his own or so perpendicular that their meeting point crushed him into a million pieces. He hated stories of happy childhoods and the chances of the vast majority. Call it jealousy or whatever you want, but he was bitter still, and honestly the worst thing someone could tell him.
Had he told her how stupid she wasn't? Had he done that for her? He doubted it, very much so. And now he so wished he had so that the eating guilt didn't make his leg twitch to start walking again. They were picking speed, almost breaking the week between them with his persistent pushing and speed and her obvious tries of hindrance. She wasn't fucking stupid, not at all. Sometimes he swore he saw her strategic planning; digging her heels into the hard mud and scuffing the leaves to leave track marks to follow.
''Said you could take care of yerself- y'did''
She wouldn't like to think that he had doubted her, not for one second. And so after a fitful half-night's sleep he was wrangling the dead to start joining his quest. Rick was mumbling still, beaten up but tough enough to be dignified about it. Daryl nodded at him, deciding a bit of kindness wouldn't kill the man. After all his own son was too scared to look at him, and Michonne was flittering between the same emotions and knowing it was needed to survive. He heard them whispering behind him. And honestly it didn't matter to him what they said, as long as they moved briskly and quickly with no gapping in the pace.
It was about noon. They had crossed another road and were deep into the next cut of the great expanse of Georgia when the following light clues became a lot more suspicious. A confusion of floor steps and leaves littered the floor, over and over for the next few miles. The disturbances seem to be headed both toward them and in front of them. Broken twigs in both directions and obvious reluctant disturbances made Daryl's head prick up to looking straight ahead.
And he knew someone, and hopefully someone blonde and small, was making a real attempt to break free. She hadn't given in yet, and until he found proof that she had he was going to keep going, even if he was saving her from hell's entrance. She was taking care of herself, even if this wasn't her. Somewhere Beth Greene was alive and kicking, biting the hand that fed her with any luck.
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Beth scrubbed at the cold water and shirts with less lack lustre than a strung up walker might. She knew her insolence would get her another few painful smacks across her face, and the cold cries she made would only entertain them. Her mind was drifting everywhere these days- mostly to any act of rebellion she could manage. Upholding a promise to herself that she wouldn't become another chained up soulless compliant to their game. Oh no, she was going to give them hell- and then someone would find her and save her or maybe she could get herself.
The metal chain bracelets had been too loose for her frame wrists, days after the prison eating snake precariously had done nothing to help her weight maintenance. They slipped off with a small amount of manoeuvring and spit, something she took advantage of a good few times. Running into the woods, barefoot and frantically she often had only twenty minutes of freedom before they dragged her screaming back to their camp. Then she was admonished and then she was-no she wasn't thinking about that.
''I've had it with this suck ass camp!''
Fucking hell, Beth. You didn't know what you had when you had it did you? What she wouldn't give for barbeque snake and Daryl at this exact moment, in fact she might weep for the sheer joy of being back in those miserable days. Now she was lucky to see him at all, even in her head- and though it began as an exercise of pulling teeth, she loved being around Daryl Dixon. He was family, and he was home. And though he was awkward he taught he how to survive. Something she had done, thank you very much.
He appeared so often in her fantasies of escape when she first arrived, so hard to pick apart from reality. But the six days she had actually been in the camp not travelling to it, wore down her hope of immediate rescue. Re-planning was difficult, often using coincidental discovery form Rick Grimes or her sister, then she'd scream and they would hold her tightly. She stood in her slumped day dream.
Her hands were sore from hours upon hours of cleaning, from the beatings and from their never-ending fidgeting with the new rope cuffs she had around her. Never had any woman been so sneaky, she had been told countless times from the voice of the man that took her. For such a small thing, she didn't half wriggle much. But that worked to her advantage, it pissed them off and actively showed some sort of defiance this place sorely lacked. The rope was frayed and unravelling from her sharp broken nails, and the water hid her tries to untie the knots. Asking the other three girls was useless, they stared blankly or got her in trouble so they got a night off from the relentless torture. It was too risky.
As usual it took only twenty minutes to slip out one thin wrist, having snapped the last of the unwound cords. If they caught her thing time there was going to be another change of restraint-that much she was sure off. Or perhaps they'd lock her up inside and there'd be no chance at all to get free. The fences were easy to climb out of, the long spikes faced outward and so covered her for the first part of the chase. Once she hit the open ground, the men would see her and start to follow, or they'd know where she was if any of them came to see how the women's work was coming along.
They had hoped bare-feet would stop her running around like a mad child. But Beth Greene had grown up on a farm, the hard ground and leaves did nothing to hurt her, and the forest seemed only to encompass her from them as long as it could, like she was some woodland sprite. That she could've been, long blonde hair streaking out behind her as she ran, long strides from impossibly long legs and a beautiful face twisted with exertion. The shouts were behind her, and so she only urged her feet to slam into the ground harder.
They would follow her, easily. She always headed the same way, back to where she knew Daryl had been. Perhaps it was stupid, but it was the only way she knew, and there was no use being weaponless in the void of trees to die of starvation or walker attack. Her lungs were on fire, and the pain was almost enough to make her wish she cared less about finding someone to save her so she could stop and give herself in. but no, that couldn't happen. Figures were the flashes of greys and browns, circling her like a caged animal but her legs only wobbled with the effort of keeping it up. Not her greatest attempt, not by like the first where she managed a whole two miles before they found her crouched behind a large oak hoping they pass her by. But it was maybe the last, before they broke a leg or something to stop her. It had been threatened.
Two arms wrapped around her legs, making her fall into the ground with no time to protect her. As she got her breath back, scrambling hands found purchase on the waistband of her jeans, sitting up onto her legs so she couldn't move as the other vultures circled in to join them. She kept moving and fighting, though her body only wanted to sleep and stop the endless abuse she had been giving it with all these extra exertions. The man slapped her across the face, and for a moment she wanted to die. Her head felt fizzy, as it always did when that noise was made against someone's face. The dirty tricks wouldn't stop her, twisting into the shelter her arms Beth let out a loud scream. Hoping walkers might join her and make it harder for them, if not kill one or two with any luck.
The man panicked trying to shut her up with a large hand, she simply bit him and kept screaming. The rawness of her agonised voice seemed to bounce off the trees into the cavernous continuation of freedom as they held her back. A cloth was put over her mouth and tied roughly, gagging her completely. They pulled her up, strapping a make shift tie for her hands with a thin piece of cord, but knowing she had no chance of getting away again. One man threw her roughly over his shoulder, knocking the wind out of her and making bile rise slightly. The stunned Beth barely made any moves to comprehendingly stop them tying her ankles together.
Just as they shrugged her on a bit snugger, one hot hand on the back of her thighs, the man who tied her legs fell to the ground. A single arrow fit snuggly into his eye socket. So here it was, the part of the day dream Daryl Dixon came running in like fucking Robin Hood to save the day. The group of now-seven men split. She was carried off along with another two of the captors, moving quickly through the woods back to raise alarm at camp. Days of day dreams told her that now was the time she woke up, just before she got to see his face-
But the jogging feeling in her stomach wasn't stopping, in fact it felt painful and dull. Her wrists hurt and the heat of the hand of her were focusably existent. Blinking her eyes a few times, Beth gasped.
She was awake.
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Daryl heard a scream. A long, raw and panicked scream. Michonne glanced at him, for what felt like centuries they let their faces drop but only milliseconds later they were clambering through the woods to run at the noise. Carl and Rick stumbled behind, soon falling out of pace.
Never in all his fucking life did he think he would actually have felt happiness at witnessing eight men tie up little Princess Greene. But there were other emotions too, frankly he was pissed someone got to the idea of gagging her before he had, and they had no right because her incessant annoying nature wasn't all that bad when she wasn't swearing at you and running from your camp. For fuck's sake, Daryl, focus. He shot his crossbow, still running but it hit the target true. He saw Michonne smirk as the men ran.
Beth disappeared from his sight as guns were pulled, Michonne veered off to the left, distracting enough for him to rip another bolt into some guys neck. The burbling sounds of his death mixed in with the sounds of unpractised gunshot reverberating of ancient bark. Sneaking a peek round he got one man in the right shoulder, not ideal but enough to stop him shooting for the time being. The blood loss might kill him, but somehow that still seemed more humane than the noise made as a katana struck the third man's heart.
Leaving Michonne to deal with the problem at hand, he started running in the direction of Beth. Her blonde hair in the wind and limp body moving independently in defeat as she was carried away. He didn't even feel the burn anymore, his head only focusing on one thought. Get to Beth. He had never been so sure of anything, right now he would die to just see her really standing there not the fucking visions he saw across his vision, the real thing. Beth alive and bruised and so imperfect in her brokenness. He'd take her however he could.
The camp they were at had large spikes around the entire perimeter, he saw the gates shut and the one guard on duty jump down. He wasn't expected for a few minutes and so now was his chance. It was easy enough to, when living, manoeuvre yourself between the tight spikes and slip into the camp. He landed in what seemed to be an enclosed area, sheets were starched and hung up and he honestly questioned what time era he had rolled into.
''You've fucking had it girl-I'm not taking this shit. You crash my car, burn our fucking half-way house and then run off after all we've done for you.'' The voice was rough and whispering, it was coming closer along with the stumbling noise of boots and struggling.
Panicking Daryl edged toward a small line of sheds, opening one and slipping in. He didn't expect to be met with the dead but curious gaze of two women, their hands bound in loud metal chains. Worrying for a moment, he held his breath, looking at their plain mattresses and empty faces. But they made no move to help him, or to harm him. Looking away he heard the scuffle of boots and angry whispering go past their door and the noise of another wooden shed slam.
He knew that Beth was there. She was so close he swore that he could feel her tingly optimism radiating through the air. He just needed twenty minutes and they'd be running in the woods, leaves and branches hitting their arms and faces to prove they were still alive to see one more day. And every footstep of his would match hers like some freaking choreographed dance that was innately born in both of them.
A voice in his head told him he was too late to save the silent staring women here, but he left the door open nevertheless. Sneaking, crossbow raised to the shuffling sounds of the next shed. He was willing to use the element of surprise to its greatest advantage in case of a hostage situation. Beth was coming with him, in one piece and hell wasn't going to stop that. He heard her small whimpering protests, worried and sickened for a moment. Then there was a loud sickening thud following a more direct, defiant 'no'. Daryl fumbled with the lock on the door, pulling it and shaking it but it wouldn't yield him.
Using his hunting knife he managed to prise the lock of the wooden door, jamming it awkwardly open. The light streamed in to the small space. A mattress like the last room and chains adorning the walls. On the floor was the man who dragged her in here, his own knife jammed in his forehead. He was straddled by the huddled sobbing figure of Beth Greene.
She looked up, hurt and angry. Expecting to see the other men that took her he face softened at his direct gaze, simply staring back at him. For a ridiculous moment neither of them were real, and simply figments of their own imaginations. But they were.
She felt solid and warm to touch, not like the flimsy confusion of his made up Beth. Totally and unabashedly topless, the offended material lying in scraps on the floor. But she simply let him pull her to her shaking legs, to put a tentative hand on his shoulder to check if he could stand the test of reality. Then Beth Greene was in his arms just like that.
She was holding him tightly, and he was encasing her small frame in his arm as if he had done so for years.
He wrapped his large leather vest around her, covering the bare expanse of skin so they could start fumbling through the woods. The noise of others following them only spurned him on faster, pulling her hand behind him. The saviour she promised herself was here after all, giving her grubby leather wings so she could escape far away. Her feet stung and everything ached, but it simply didn't matter. Once again the long golden locks flicked out behind her, the only sign of her flickering hope as if colour kept the idea of good people burning alive.
A day away, somewhere west, Rick, Carl and Michonne were waiting for them to join them. But that didn't slow their hurried running, the smiles that mimicked each other or the ever escalating feeling of total recognition that the slavery was over.
As a child, Daryl would have sworn and cursed, never would he look at the finer details of anything the way he did now- how her tired feet slanted to the right still favouring her stronger ankle or the pain-filled happiness in her eyes- the eyes like the stars from all those nights ago. Instead he had pain upon pain to deal with, so he and Merle went place to place running and hoping eventually the pain would give up and running away wouldn't have to be their option anymore.
At the same time, there she was searching, always searching. She needed to find the good in everything, her faith in what she could see. Catching bubbles in chubby toddler fists, and then deciphering old hymn books after choir practice wanting to know the reason for it all. And it wasn't until she met him that it changed.
He found what he was looking for, and she had finally run away.
Beth looked out at the expanse of stars. Their wide and encompassing nature filling the darkness with sprinkles of light. And nothing in the world had ever made her feel so small, and nothing in the world made her feel so free. With him beside her, his strength radiating in heat from beside her, she was sure she was dying. The ache in her chest was bursting, the tears pilling silently as she simply looked up at the heavens.
Thank you.
He was staring at her, worried she might turn into a rabbit if an arrow caught her, and needing proof to see her. The messy blonde hair was sorely in need of a wash, blood and mud smeared her pale cheeks cut only by the stream of tears. But the imperfection was what he needed. Mucus-faced Beth was a sight for sore eyes, and for the first time he let himself believe it was all real.
You're gonna miss me so bad when I'm gone, Daryl Dixon.
That was true. And so she was never leaving his sight again.
So thank you so much guys for joining this journey with me! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it- and I hope you'll all be nice enough to share your thoughts even if its 'meh, t'was alright I guess'' xxx