Ch.9

The sun filtering through the window woke Daryl and he got out of the bed, stretching. The fire had gone out long ago, and Beth was still curled up on the floor sleeping. He wanted to get moving as soon as possible, but he would let Beth sleep as long as she needed.

He wasn't sure of their surroundings or where exactly they had ended up, so he went outside, making sure to be quiet so he wouldn't wake Beth. As he had guessed they were in the woods, that was a given, but he didn't expect there to be a dirt road, which he imagined led to a main road. Following that road would be their best bet. If they could make it to the main road they could hopefully follow that until they came across a town, someplace safer.

He went back inside to find Beth awake, but she was still lying on the floor. Her eyes were still glued to the fireplace, so Daryl went over and added more wood and lit a match. He looked back at her; she looked even more exhausted and broke than she had last night.

He walked to the bathroom and looked in the medicine cabinet. Thankfully there was a first aid kit, because with every passing hour Beth's cheek was looking worse and worse. Most of it was the bruise, but he didn't want the scrapes to get infected.

Walking back to her he wasn't sure how to approach the situation. He couldn't wait any longer to clean it, but she hadn't even said a word to him or looked his way since everything happened. Thankfully she had brought herself to an upright position, and Daryl knelt in front of her. Her watery eyes were still watching the fire.

"Beth, I just need to look at your cheek. Okay?"

When she didn't respond he brought his hand to her face, but she backed away from his touch, her body tensing once again. He realized that this approach wasn't working; he needed to try something else. He needed to distract her.

"There's a dirt road. I think it leads to a main road." He brought his hand to her face again, this time she didn't flinch. "We can follow that, maybe find a small town." He brought an alcohol swab to the cheek, gently wiping away the dirt and cleaning the cuts. "We could stay there a night or two and then make our way to where we need to be."

He felt a rush of relief when he was finished. She looked him in the eyes as he cleaned up the first aid kit, nodding her head in agreement to his plans. That was a start. He had cleaned the cut and she had made the first acknowledgement that he was there. It was a small start, but it was better than nothing.

Before they left, Daryl found a backpack, this one larger than the one they had previously had. He put the food, water, blanket, and first aid kit in it. He left out two bottles of water, handing one to Beth, who didn't bother to open it. Then they left, the cabin slowly disappearing behind them.

Daryl had been right, the dirt road led to a main road. He knew that they were bound to come across a little town somewhere along the road, so they kept walking. Beth made sure to keep her distance from Daryl, always staying at least ten feet from him, still too afraid to be close to another human. When he looked to the bottle of water to see if she had drank any, which she hadn't, he realized that her belt was missing. He assumed the men had taken it from her yesterday, leaving her with no weapon; it was yet another reminder of what she had been through

They had walked at least three miles, and it was taking its toll on Beth. Her breathing was ragged and whatever had been causing her pain on her right side last night hadn't seemed to have gone away. He was about to take a break when he saw a neighborhood. It was a suburban neighborhood; probably before the world went downhill it had been packed with perfect families and smiling children, but now it was deserted, making it the ideal spot for them to stay.

He walked down the street, trying to decide what house to stay in. For the most part the houses all looked the same, only having minor differences. But some of the houses seemed to have put up with the end of the world better than others. He chose a house that was in the middle of the street, the backyard backing up to the woods, offering a good escape if anything were to happen. All of the windows were intact, and the door was locked.

He managed to pick the lock and get inside; just like the cabin there were no walkers. Out of habit he turned the handles to the sink, not expecting anything to come out. He jumped back, startled, when he heard the pipes creaking and then saw water start to pour out of the faucet, filling the sink. Pushing his luck he flipped the switch to the kitchen light, and the room was suddenly bright. He couldn't figure out why anyone would abandon this place. There were no walkers in sight, they had self-provided water and electricity, which he assumed came from a generator somewhere. This would be the perfect place for them to stay until they could begin moving again.

He turned to look at Beth to find that she didn't share the same excitement he did; her face showed no emotion, just emptiness. She hadn't said anything to him on their way here, and she was still keeping her distance. Walking to the bathroom he prayed that the shower would work, and thanked God when it did.

"The shower works. You want to take one?"

She didn't answer, but her eyes met his; the second time that day. She stared at him for a few minutes before shaking her head no.

"Maybe later, when you're ready. The place seems safe, so I'm going to jump in real quick." He left Beth standing in the kitchen, feeling horrible for doing so. He didn't know what to do with her. Maybe a warm shower would allow him to gather his thoughts.

As he showered he became aware to the fact that this was the first time he had had a warm shower in over a year. Sure, they had showers at the prison, and while they weren't cold, they weren't exactly warm. But here he could adjust the temperature to his liking.

When he got out he went to the kitchen. Beth had taken a seat at the table in the dining room; she was staring at her hands, which she was fumbling with. Her knee was bobbing up and down. The bottle of water he had given her earlier that day was sitting on the table in front of her; the cap remained sealed.

"I'm going to make us some dinner." He paused, glancing at Beth before proceeding. "You should take a shower, we actually have warm water."

She nodded and got up, heading to the bathroom he had just come from. The door silently shut behind her, and Daryl relaxed when he heard the shower start. He rummaged through the backpack and found a can of beans. The house had an electric stove, so he was able to heat them up in a pot. He was putting the beans on a plate when he heard sobs coming from the bathroom.

He dropped the spoon and pot and rushed to the bathroom door. It was locked. He slammed his body into it until it gave way. Beth was sitting on the floor, the towel wrapped tightly around shoulder, covering as much of her body as she could. Her hair was dripping wet, and he could see the glisten of water on her skin. Daryl went over to her and leaned down in front of her.

She brought her gaze to his, the tears flowing from her eyes. "I can't put them back on." The words were ragged and broken, fit in between gasps.

At first he was confused and had no idea what she was talking about. Looking around the small room his eyes landed on her clothes. She didn't want to put them back on; they held to much pain, too many bad memories. Daryl scooped Beth up in his arms, not thinking, and felt as her body became rigid, but she let him carry her. He carried her to one of the bedrooms and set her down on the bed.

He went over to the dresser and started going through the clothes, the sound of Beth's crying filling the room behind him. He managed to find a pair of underwear that looked to be her size, a bra, and a large shirt that was way too big to fit her properly, but it would have to do. He turned around and a pit formed in his stomach when he realized what was about to happen.

He timidly walked over to Beth, her legs hanging over the side of the bed. He set the clothes down beside her, and taking a deep and steady breath, grabbed the pair of underwear, carefully putting her feet through the holes and guiding them up her legs. She stood up and allowed him to pull them up the rest of the way. He then turned her so that her back was to him and eased the towel off of her. He reached for the bra, and as he put it on her he realized the extent of her injuries, and a wave of sadness swept through him.

Bruises littered her body. Handprints were plastered to her delicate pale skin, the fingers reaching to her chest. When she turned around the sight was even more appalling, and he finally understood why she had been favoring her right side. Her right rib cage was a multitude of hues, shades of purple and blue so deep they shouldn't exist on anybody's skin. The realization of her injuries made the bruise on her cheek seem like nothing. He tore his eyes away and grabbed the shirt, helping Beth into it. Her tears quickly made dark spots on the orange t-shirt.

"I'll look for something that fits you tomorrow." His voice was brittle, and he went to turn, but he felt a small hand grab his wrist.

"Don't go." His eyes flickered to hers, and he followed a tear as it rolled down her face. "Please." Her voice was soft, desperate.

Daryl searched her eyes for the briefest of seconds before climbing onto the bed, his back resting against the headboard. Beth joined him, laying her head on his chest. He held her tight as her crying shook them both, his free hand stroking her hair in a weak attempt to calm her. He wondered if she would ever recover from this, and he felt guilty that he hadn't been able to prevent it from happening.

Author's Note: I must have just had a 24 hour thing, because I feel much better now. It turns out that when I'm sick I'm even more of an avid writer than usual...I managed to write Ch.10 and Ch.11 yesterday (partly because I couldn't go to sleep). I still need to edit them, though.

Anyway, they found someplace safer to stay than in the woods! But Daryl has also realized how badly Beth is hurt, both emotionally and physically.

And, to address a question ZodiasK asked in a review of Ch.8, I do plan on continuing this story when The Walking Dead starts back up in two weeks. I don't plan on ending the story just because what I write may not be what happens in the show. I may take a few ideas from the show and incorporate it into the story, but for the most part they will be two completely separate entities.