The Walking Deth - Part IV

Here and Home - Chapter II

They Never Do

Beth stared at his extended hand and I stared at him. It was bad enough that the guy had a line of bitches, now he was eyeing Beth like she was candy in a shop front.

"This is Wyatt and his daughter 'The kid'." Wallace introduced us.

Negan screwed his face up. "What the fuck kind of names are they? You cowboys or something?"

"Nope. Found them on a motorcycle in the DC mass."

Negan glared at Wallace. "Fuck you, you ancient shit."

He pulled out a chair, and kicked his boots up on to the table, while casually resting his hands behind his head.

"You run back upstairs and get Lucille, I left her behind." He said to the timid looking Carson.

Carson bowed his head and hurried from the room. I hoped having one of his girls around would stop him from looking at Beth like she was something to eat.

"So you've come to join our fun house?" Negan's eyes fell back on me.

I glared at him in response.

"Don't look so fucking serious. You'll love it here." He opened his arms into the air, motioning to the hotel. "'course, you can't stay here for free, this hotel carries a tariff." He began listing things off on his fingers. "Gotta cover Wi-Fi, room service, in-house movies." He raised his eyebrows suggestively. "You'll like those."

"You have all that?"

"Hell fucking no! I'm just fucking with you." He chuckled loudly, his shoulders shaking, then gave a drawn out sigh and began examining his finger nails in a display of casualness. "But you do have to pay your way." He flicked a finger towards me. "So how can you pay your way? What services do you have to offer?"

I hesitated for a moment. Our visit would only be a short one, until we could figure out our next move. I didn't want to be roped into any permanent contract, but if I didn't offer something we would be out on our asses without transport, and with only Beth's Stryker and my empty Airborne.

"I can hunt. I can go on runs. Might be able to fix bikes…"

"He's good with a knife." Wallace added.

"Great!" Negan cried enthusiastically. "We can always do with more knives."

He turned his attention to Beth. "What about you, honey?"

Beth shrugged her shoulders and looked to me, and I gave her a nod, hoping she would come up with something…anything. I could just imagine what services he would like her to do if she had no other skill.

"I was a teacher…before." She dropped her eyes as they began filling with tears, and I tried to hold back my own as I thought about the kids we had lost. I didn't have time to grieve now. We weren't out of danger yet.

"A fucking teacher?" Negan screwed up his face in disgust. "Your sweet fucking ass wasn't a grizzled old teacher."

I shot up from the desk and stared down at the man, chest puffed, hands clenched, ready to challenge him.

He laughed and held his hands up, placating. "It's okay Daddy-oh, just admiring your handy work."

"She's not my fuckin' daughter." I snarled.

He looked back to Beth with a stunned expression. "You don't say."

He raised his hand in the air as if he wanted me to give him a high five, and I continued to glare at him.

Negan shrugged, seemingly un-phased by the rejection. "Either way, we don't need no teacher here, all the woman are responsible for their own kids."

He continued to rape Beth with his eyes, and I continued to stab him repeatedly with mine.

He cleared his throat and shifted his eyes from Beth back to me. "Are you two married?"

"No."

"You should get married, make it official, otherwise she's anyone's game, really."

"She's no-ones game."

"No, 'course she's not...not unless she wants to be." His grin was sly and sickening. "You'd be surprised how many women want to be, when given the choice."

"She don't wanna be…" I could feel my anger starting to boil over, while I looked at this piece of shit leering all over Beth. I wanted to knock him in his face, and pound all his teeth to dust, but I was under his roof, and under his rule, and I had to play along until we could figure out what to do next.

I let myself fall back into the chair, trying to shift some of the aggression away. "Wallace mentioned somethin' 'bout a room. We've been travellin' all night, could sure do with some shut-eye."

" 'Course. Where are my manners?" He flicked his finger towards Paul who started sifting through papers on the desk in-front of him, and then produced a ledger and a pen.

"Now as I said, no fucking thing is for free, you'll have to pull your weight around here." He nodded his head towards Beth. "You'll have to pull her weight too...unless you want me to find a way for her to…pull…on her own." He chuckled to himself.

"No. I'll take care of the both of us."

"You'll be on double shifts. That's…" He made an exaggerated display of counting on his fingers, "A fucking lot of hours. Wallace will take you on supply runs with his crew. We've got a few communities we help protect for a fee, and sometimes we need extra manpower to collect that fee. It can get pretty fucking ugly out there, so you gotta be up for some heavy shit."

"Heavy is the shit I'm used to."

"Great. Well let's show you to your fucking room. Get it? fucking room...'cause that's probably what you'll be doin' in there, right?"

I glared and he chuckled. "Why you two always lookin' so serious? Laugh a little."

He turned back to Paul "What do we got?"

"What floor, sir?"

"Hmm." He tapped his chin with his finger thoughtfully. "Let's start them off on the fourth, see how they go."

Paul held up a white card, similar to the one that was used to open the gate to the garage.

"412."

Wallace was the one who showed us up to our room, chatting all the way about the people of the hotel, where they had come from, what they were like. The routines of the day, shifts of work, who did what and when and where they did it.

As soon as we were on our floor, and well away from Negan I asked him "What the fuck's up with him?" referring to his sleazy leader.

"Little power crazed, I guess."

"He was all but fuckin' Beth with his eyes."

"Beth? You mean 'the kid'?"

I nodded.

"He likes his women." Wallace frowned thoughtfully. "Let me give you a tip. Don't do anything to piss him off. We sort of run on a point system here. It's like a hotel hierarchy. If he likes you, he'll give you the top floors, with the best rooms, the best rations, booze, girls. You can shower whenever you like." Wallace smiled to himself as if showering were his favourite part of all the things he had listed. "If he don't like you, you'll find yourself on the bottom floor, on a mattress, a blanket if you're lucky, gruel if you're lucky, and he might let you shower if your smell makes him want to throw up."

"Sounds like a dictator's ass whistlin'."

"It does," He chuckled lightly, "but it works. People don't like being on the bottom, 'specially not the ladies. They'll do desperate and stupid things to please him and get off that bottom floor."

We had stopped in front of our room now, and Wallace handed me the card for the door.

"Why do you even follow that ass-hole?"

"He's a leader. And a leaders a leader."

"A leader is what you wanted." Beth muttered, her eyes still to the worn carpet on the floor.

"That card will get you into your room, into the garden, and into the dining room. You can't leave without Negan's say so, and only a few of us have a card for the garage." He patted against the pocket of his jacket, indicating he had one of those cards.

He gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder and started backing away.

"Welcome to the Radisson, Wyatt, 'The kid'. If there is anything I can do for you, just ask." He bowed courteously and turned back to the hall.

The room wasn't bad. It was probably the best place Beth had the chance to sleep in over the past two years; it was the best place I had been able to sleep in. Ever.

The heavy patterned curtains surrounded a view over the city. And from up high, you couldn't even tell the world had gone to shit. The bed was made with a heavy looking orange blanket, and small dark red pillows. The room had a single sofa chair, a small table, and a desk which was covered in un-lit candles.

Beth placed the crossbow on the desk and then dropped herself down heavily on the edge of the bed, eyes forward and staring at the wall.

I dropped my bag and empty bow to the floor, and tugged the poncho over my head and let it drop too.

Just looking at the bed drew my attention back to how tired I was. I had been on edge for the past few hours, adrenaline still pumping through my blood from the bus crash, and from being on guard around the strangers. Now with everything quiet and feeling relatively safe, I had the chance to feel all the emotions I had been holding back.

They hit me like I had lifted the flood gate on a dam, crashing over me, feeling cold in my chest and hot on my face. My shoulders started shaking, my diaphragm spasming, and I knew I was sobbing; Deep chest heaving, cheek soaking, snot dripping sobs.

All those kids were with us for months, and now they were just gone. Like they had vanished into the air.

All I could see before me was Austin's smart-ass face, all I could hear was his cheeky laugh. I was glad I never looked at his dead body, it wasn't the way I wanted to remember him.

I fell to the floor on my knees before Beth, and dropped my head on to her lap. I wrapped my hands around her waist and sobbed into her thighs, expecting she would gently rub my back and say sweet things and we could comfort each other and it would be okay…eventually.

Beth didn't rub my back gently. She didn't do anything gently. She hit my hard in the rib with something. An elbow, a fist, a sledgehammer, I didn't know what it was, but it winded me, and I slipped off her legs and fell to the floor gasping for air.

"You wanted to leave!" She shrieked.

I rolled onto my ass and stared up at her, both stunned by and understanding of her reaction at the same time.

"You left the school, because you wanted a leader! Because you were too afraid of doin' it on our own!"

"Beth." I crawled to my knees and tried to hold her to comfort her and calm her down, but she shook me off, and stood up, pointing her finger angrily down at me.

"We should've stayed!" She continued shrieking. "They would still be alive! They would still be alive!" She covered her face with her hands and began sobbing uncontrollably into them.

"No they wouldn't." I stood up and tried to grab her by the arms, but she shrugged me away and began pacing back and forth in front of me.

"Those fuckers would have come back and slaughtered us all!" I cried out after her.

"So!" she wailed, stopping before me and throwing her arms in the air. "At least we would've died together! Not the way they did. Their faces…and their bodies…"

Beth paled, covered her mouth, and raced through the open door to the bathroom, and I could hear her retching, spitting and coughing inside.

I went in after her and stood behind her, scooping up the loose strands from her pony that fell in her face.

She slapped my hands away and retched again, before wiping her face with her hand, standing, and seeing herself to the mirror.

She splashed water on her face, and swished a handful in her mouth and glared back at my reflection in the mirror.

"If you didn't take me on that stupid date! If you didn't make us leave! If you didn't stop your stupid bike in the middle of the stupid road!"

She slammed the axe into my chest.

"So you're blamin' me for everythin' that happened?"

"Yes, I am!"

She dragged out the axe and slammed it in there again. Her words hurt more than losing the kids. Probably because what she was saying was true.

"I'm gonna go…take a walk." I muttered as I turned to leave the bathroom. I had to get away from her. I was ready to break something and I didn't want her in the way.

I got to the front door and put my hand on the handle, then her hand was on top of mine swatting it away. She pushed my shoulder so I fell into the door, and then she jumped on me wrapping her hands around my shoulders.

"I'm sorry!" She sobbed into my shoulder. "It's not your fault at all... I'm just...I just …I can't believe they're gone… All of them."

I shushed her and ran my hands over her back and shoulders in circular motions trying to calm her sobs before she hyperventilated, and repeated "I know." Over and over, because I really did know what she was feeling.

I don't think I had ever felt a loss so great. Not when we found Sophia, not when Merle died, not when my mom died, not even when Hershel died. I never wanted those kids to call me daddy, but they still felt like my own. My own kids were gone.

I was being no help stopping her sobbing, as I was sobbing now too. We both stood there by the door, trembling, wet and snotty messes.

And then, unexpectedly, Beth was turning her face to mine.

She mouthed at my lips forcefully, hungrily, passionately. Demonstrating a complete contrast in emotions to what I thought she would be feeling. I didn't even know how to react, so I just parted my lips and let her attack them, licking and sucking and biting, and forcing her tongue in as far as she could reach.

Then her hands were at my waist, tugging at the hem of my shirt and pulling it over my head.

Once my arms were free I cupped my hands on her wet cheeks. "Beth what are you doin'?"

"I need you now, Daryl. I need you to make love to me."

"I can't…I don't think we should…this isn't right." It didn't seem right, we had only lost the kids mere hours ago. But why was my cock already starting to respond.

"It is right. It's the only thing that's right, and I feel so wrong. I feel awful, Daryl… Make me feel better."

I hadn't had a proper chance to grieve, my head was still spinning, and my guts were still turning. Every part of me was numb, except for the parts Beth was touching. She rubbed her hands over my guts and chest, and pressed her wet lips into my shoulder, and then all I could think about was taking the pain away.

I tugged the sweater over her head, and threw it to the ground, and then tugged the floral strapless dress down to her hips. Her tits spilled out over the top, and I cupped them, probably to rough, and squeezed them and nipped at them with my teeth as I lifted and leant her back.

She sighed and sobbed and moaned and sobbed and confused the hell out of me. I didn't know what the fuck I was feeling. I didn't know what the fuck I was doing. I just did it.

I put my mouth back to hers, and returned the forceful kissing, wrestling her tongue with my own. I tugged her dress down to her thighs and ripped out the belt in her pants, in a quick and desperate motion.

My hands went to her shoulders and I shoved her backwards so she landed on the bed behind her. She scrambled backwards on the bed, still weeping, and I grabbed wildly at everything ─ her dress, her jeans, her panties and boots. With one sweep I tugged everything off, and tossed them on to the floor.

I toed out of my own boots, pulled at my belt, and then slid everything to my feet, and kicked it all off while climbing on to the bed.

Beth was laying back, her head on the pillows, her hair half falling out of her pony and all wild and messy. A thick red line was drawn from hip to shoulder over her pale skin. Her hands were clutching at the covers. Her eyes were pink and swollen and her cheeks were wet with tears. She looked awful, and I felt awful. But I gave in to what my body wanted anyway, and crawled over her, spread her legs with my knees, and then slid straight into her. She was as wet between the legs as she was wet on her face. Her body was obviously as confused as mine was.

When the length of me was fully inside of her, I let out a strangled groan, and she wailed and threw her head back. I couldn't tell if it was wailing in pain or pleasure.

"Are you okay?" I asked her, keeping my hips still.

"Yes." She gasped, as she tightened the grip of her legs around my thighs and began rocking her hips against mine.

I wrapped both arms under her, putting one palm on the back of her head, pulling her face into my shoulder, and the other palm in the small of her back, holding her in close to me, so the full length of our bodies were joined and moving together.

I bucked my hips between her thighs, in firm and long strokes, grunting with every thrust, trying to drive out the bad thoughts, and she continued to cry in what seemed like misery and moan in what seemed like pleasure.

Her legs, wrapped around me, were trembling, and her sobbing chest heaved against mine. The skin on my shoulder was saturated by her tears.

My mind told me to stop; that this wasn't doing her any good, but my body wanted me to keep going harder and faster. I tossed my head from side to side telling myself no. I wanted to do the right thing, whatever that was.

With every ounce of strength I had, I threw myself to the side, pulling myself out of her, and landing back on the pillow beside her, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath, and stop myself from crying again.

Beth was lying still, other than the shuddering of her chest as she continued to sob.

I put my thumbs to my temples, and rubbed at my head, pounding with confused thoughts.

"Why did you stop?" She turned her head to the side and watched me, her eyes still red and wet.

"Look at you, Beth, you're a mess… I feel like I'm raping you… This isn't helpin' me or you."

"It is." She insisted. She pushed herself up and threw a leg over me in an attempt to straddle me and I grabbed her thigh and pushed her back down.

"No Beth." I held her firmly by the shoulders onto the sheets, my body weight pressed down on her. "Not now. I ain't thinkin' straight, I don't know what I'm doin', and…and we don't have no rubbers, we've already fucked up enough times as it is…"

She stared past me and up at the ceiling. "I would make a terrible mother, wouldn't I?"

"What? That's not what this is…"

"It wasn't your fault at all. It was mine, I couldn't control the bus…I knew they had no belts on and I lost control." She started sobbing uncontrollably again, and I pulled her by her shoulders and rolled her in to me so her head was on my chest.

"No, it weren't your fault neither." I ran my fingers through her tangled mess of blonde.

Beth shook her face against my chest, and continued to sob. "The kids…at the prison…I was supposed to…take care of them…and I left them…and they died…and Judith…I abandoned her…the kids at the school… would've been…better off…if we never found them…" Her voice trailed off into a wail.

"Stop it, Beth!" I gave her shoulders a firm shake, making her seize her wail. "The kids at the school…If we didn't find 'em they would've had long, slow, miserable deaths. Bein' abandoned. Thinkin' the world was full o' selfish ass-holes… At least with us they felt a bit of love before they died."

Beth's sobs started to soften as she listened to my words.

"This world is shit. You and I both know that no kid is gonna last here for long, and that ain't our fault. This is no place to raise no kids, no matter how much love you give 'em, no matter how hard you try to keep 'em safe. Somethin's always gonna happen to 'em, and we can't stop that."

Beth's sobs started to intensify again, and she clawed at my shoulder, pulling me closer to her. Her cries sounded almost desperate, like there was something more there than just grief. My own grief was suddenly taken over by concern for her. Strong as she was, something like this could destroy her.

I shushed her, and rocked her back and forth in my arms, while she cried into my chest, wondering if she would ever be the same again.

I was absolutely exhausted. I felt like I was just floating around on nothingness, with my head above the clouds and my body buried under the ground. I wasn't even sure how I managed to dress myself, or how I made it downstairs.

"You right there, Wyatt?" A familiar voice broke through my daze.

I turned to see the aging yet muscular frame of Wallace approaching me. He stood before me and put a hand to my shoulder, stopping the room from spinning a little.

"You look like shit, boy. Thought you were getting some rest?"

"Can't sleep." I mumbled.

"Let's see if we can help you with that." He tugged me along beside him, walking across the foyer and towards closed double doors with 'Members Lounge' written overhead. He swiped his card on the door, and pushed it open for me to enter.

It was a real live mother fucking lounge, with several sofas, high tables and a small stage, surrounded by a glimmering silver tinsel curtain. The mirrored cabinet behind the bar was lined with bottles of alcohol, most were empty but some were almost full. Behind the bar a man in an apron was wiping out glasses and stacking them on the shelves. It was like a scene straight out of Cheers.

"What the fuck? It's like you guys are livin' at the holiday inn."

"Nah, holiday inn is down the road." Wallace gave his familiar chuckle, and pushed me towards a stool by the bar. "Negan likes his comforts, and with a group this size, we have the manpower to hold on to a bit of comfort."

I swept my arm across the room.

"You've got a bar. An actual fucking bar." I pointed to the man behind the bar. "And an actual fucking bar tender."

"And in the pm, we've got actual dancers." He nodded towards the small stage; a pole in the centre looking like it was recently welded on.

"Dancers." I repeated, unsurprised. Negan seemed like he would like them.

"Yeah, best to keep 'The Kid' away from here."

The bar tender placed two whiskey glasses in front of us and tipped a finger of liquor in each. Wallace downed it quickly and I eyed over mine cautiously.

"C'mon Wyatt, why would I save your ass just to poison you?" Wallace chuckled again.

I downed the liquor. Cheap and nasty whiskey, but whiskey all the same. My guts grew warm as it settled, and I felt the slightest sense of calm.

"So what is your real name?" Wallace asked as he flicked a finger towards the bar tender asking for more whiskey.

"Wyatt." I grunted.

"Well what are the chances?" He faked astonishment.

"My real name is William, but everyone calls me Wallace 'cause I used to have red hair." He ran his fingers through his greying mess of long hair. "Apparently that's a wee bit scootish."

He chuckled at his own awful accent.

"Most people here call me Wally though. Seems like it fits an old man like me." Wallace downed his second glass of whiskey and I did the same.

"So what's eating you, Wyatt?"

I shifted uncomfortably in the seat, not really wanting to pour my heart out to a stranger but feeling oddly safe to do so.

"We had some little'uns with us..."

I didn't need to continue; Wallace grimaced and nodded his head as if he knew what I was going to say.

"I lost my granddaughter right back at the beginning." He stared sullenly into his empty glass. "This big mass of gnashers came through our camp, I was supposed to be watching her, my son asked me to, but I got distracted by all the hacking and slashing. When I turned she was gone. Never found her remains. She just disappeared. We looked for her for a long time. Weeks. Eventually we just gave up. I know that she's dead, a kid can't survive out there on their own, but I just like to think of her as 'gone'. Think it's easier."

I nodded in agreement, thinking that was why I never looked for Austin. It was easier to believe he was just gone if I never saw him dead with my own eyes.

"My son and daughter-in-law hated me." Wallace continued. "I hated myself. I couldn't look myself in the mirror or them in the eye. They wanted me gone, but I didn't leave them, because they were all I had left. I followed them halfway across the state, then one day I woke up and they were just gone too."

"Dead?"

"Nah. They left my ass." He chuckled again, but this time without humour. "That was when I met Negan. I was curled up in ball in the middle of the road, rocking and weeping like a...well like a man who had lost his child."

My eyes left his face and trailed down over his neck and exposed chest to the tattoos, one of them a swastika. I found it hard to imagine a man sporting those markings weeping in the middle of the road.

"I know, big tough guy like me, crying." He huffed humourlessly. "It was all for show. Did that dumb shit when I was a kid. I never really believed that 'white power' bullshit, but it made people leave me alone, and made me look tougher than I really was. Think that's the only reason Negan wanted me to tag along. Fooled him into believing I was some tough guy."

He sighed and gently tossed his head from side to side.

"I was a bit of hard ass, nasty shit-head when I was younger though, before I met my wife. She sure sorted my ass out." He smiled as if at the memory of his dead wife. "You take good care of 'The Kid'. She's more valuable than you know."

I lowered my eyes to the empty glass and nodded my head in agreement.

"So, you lose a son or daughter?"

"Both."

"Both? You two don't look old enough to have two kids…well 'The Kid' don't…"

"They were adopted."

"But it hurts the same don't it?"

I nodded.

He gave me a light chip on the shoulder so that I looked up at his dark, wrinkled, wise face.

"Let me tell you somethin'. In this place the tough guy routine is necessary. But you don't have to do that shit in front of me. If you wanna cry, you go right ahead and cry, you have good reason to."

I wasn't going to cry in front of this stranger. I wasn't going to drop my guard and show my weakness. But with the whiskey in my guts and the somehow comforting smile on his lips I let myself frown at memories from the past.

A/N: The comfort sex. It's a weird one, but it does happen. Tried to make it as realistic as possible. (but you know, this is supposed to be a smutty fic.)

Wyatt and 'The kid' are characters from a 60s movie called 'easy rider'. Before both Beth's and Daryl's time.