The Saints

Chapter 9

Daryl sighed as Connor pulled the car up to their father's old sheep farm and killed the engine. It had been a long, draining flight and an even longer car ride out into the country where no one would bother them. His whole body was stiff as he climbed out of the car. Connor went to the trunk to get the bags while Daryl opened up the back door and gently pulled Beth out, trying not to wake her as he cradled her in his arms.

She could say whatever she wanted about being okay with this, but a sheep farm in the middle of nowhere, in a foreign country where she didn't know anyone was not the place for her. She'd uprooted her whole life to come here with him and the guilt was getting worse every hour. He carried her inside and back to the bedroom, laying her out in the bed before pulling off her shoes and tucking her in.

He met Connor back in the kitchen and sighed as he looked around. "Home sweet home," he muttered.

Connor clapped him on the shoulder and looked at him. "She's here, safe and alive. That's all that matters. We'll be back in a year or so." Daryl sighed and nodded his head. "No point in worrying about it anymore tonight, let's go get some sleep." Connor and Daryl made their way back to the bedroom they'd shared growing up and climbed into their beds. Connor was pretty much asleep before his head hit the pillow but Daryl couldn't sleep. Couldn't get rid of the guilt eating away at him long enough to let sleep take him. He loved Beth, he was glad she was there with them, glad she was safe, but this wasn't the life he'd wanted for her.

…

Beth smiled up at Connor as he walked into the house, dirty from working in the fields. It looked like they'd spend the day sheering the sheep. "Hungry?" she asked, moving to the kitchen, planning on making him something.

"Starving." He kissed her cheek and picked up his cigarettes, lighting one as he sat at the table. Beth grabbed him a beer from the fridge and handed it to him before pulling out everything she would need to make him a sandwich. "Daryl went on a supply run," he muttered as he took a drink of the beer.

Beth nodded her head, smiling a bit. "Good, I wanted to ask you something." She quickly put his food together and handed it to him before sitting down beside him. "I was wondering if you could teach me how to speak Irish?" She blushed a little when he smirked. "I mean…I know you and Daryl speak a bunch of languages, but I thought…I don't know, maybe if I learned he'd stop feeling so damn guilty all the time"

She hated looking at him and knowing that he was beating himself up about her being there. It had been her choice to come, but he blamed himself for it. She reassured him every day that she was happy, that this was where she wanted to be, but he wouldn't listen to her. He figured she was just saying it to pacify him. Connor nodded his head as he ate and smoked. "Aye, you should learn Irish."

Beth smiled a little looking at him. "You'll teach me?"

He nodded his head and wiped his hands on his dirty jeans. "Basics first, dia duit," he spoke slowly, carefully so she could hear the phonetics and the accent.

"D-dia duit," she repeated. "What does that mean?"

"Hello." Beth smiled and continued to repeat words, saying them over and over again until she got it down. They spent an hour going over basic words, forming small basic sentences. They only stopped when they saw headlights in the window.

"I want to surprise him"

Connor nodded his head. "It'll be our little secret," he promised with a wink. It carried on for weeks. Connor would come back early or send Daryl out for a supply run, or stay up late with Beth, teaching her how to speak Irish, and as the days passed Connor was impressed at how quickly she seemed to pick it up. Before very long, every time they were alone together they spoke nothing but Irish, holding full conversations.

…

Daryl was getting sick of always being the one to go into town. He hated the long drive and hated dealing with people. Connor could go next time. He sighed as he pulled up to the house and grabbed the bags, stepping out of the car. His only saving grace was that he was starting to feel better about Beth being there. She seemed happy, and Daryl was thrilled to see her and Connor getting along so well. Connor looked after her like a sister. He walked into the house, planning on ripping Connor a new one when he heard a woman speaking Irish. He double checked to make sure he hadn't missed a car in the driveway. When he didn't see one he walked into the kitchen, leaning against the door frame. Beth was the one speaking Irish. She wasn't perfect at it, her accent could use some work and she tripped over some of the words, but she knew enough to be holding a conversation with Connor.

"When do you think Daryl will be back?" she asked.

Connor shrugged his shoulders as he looked at Daryl and smirked. "Oh, I'm sure he'll be along any time now." He lifted his beer and swallowed some of it as Daryl slowly, quietly walked into the room. Beth had her back to them, peeling potatoes at the sink. "Are you worried about him?" Daryl glared at Connor as he baited Beth.

"Of course I am. I'm always worried about him." She sighed a little and reached for another potato.

Daryl reached out and took her wrist into his hand. "You shouldn't worry about me," he whispered, kissing her palm. She blushed looking at him.

She faltered back into English. "How long have you been standing there?" she asked.

"Long enough to know that you two have been keeping a secret." He smirked and looked over at Connor who just looked away innocently. "Why are you learning Irish?" he asked.