I am really, really happy with this chapter. I hope you guys like it as much as I do. Some notes about the content at the end, for now just read on!
"You know…" Beth's voice rose softly from the corner of the room, making him turn slowly to look at her. "When I said we should focus on the two of us, I didn't exactly mean either one of us putting our lives at risk for the other." She gave him a sidelong look, and though her eyes were serious he could see her tongue poking from the corner of her mouth as she added, "I mean, I'm just saying."
They were up on the third floor again settling back in for what seemed like it was gonna be at least another few days without any chance of getting safely out. At least they had a safe, secure place to stay, and thankfully he'd gotten the bucket of water filled for them; it was sitting on the small table now with the collection of water bottles he'd managed to fill as well. Daryl himself was sitting on the floor by the small stove, using Beth's clean knife to skin the deer leg before stripping off the meat.
He knew she was only half scolding him; the little hint of her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth was sign enough of that. But Daryl still felt guilt churning low in his stomach. because wasn't that what he'd done? He'd gone and risked his damn life out there to get her that deer, when he should have been focusing on getting back inside. To her. Hadn't he even told her, a few days ago back at that farmhouse, that the two of them living was more important than anything? Yet it seemed like he'd forgotten it in the heat of the moment. Like a damn idiot with a one track mind, a one-way street pointing right towards Beth.
He grew awkward again, running his hands through his hair as he shifted in place with a shrug of his shoulders as he grunted back at her, "Just wanted to get you that deer. You need t' eat." Even saying it made the tips of his ears burn, not because he knew now that it was a flimsy excuse, but because of what had just happened the last time he'd said it. Kneeling by the stove and looking up at her now where she stood framed in the window, all he could think about was the way she'd leaned in, the way she'd pressed her lips to his and made his damn head spin with that kiss.
Hell, Daryl was pretty sure that head spinning was all tied up in why he'd taken such a risk out there, a risk he regretted now even if it had lead to, well... to the press of her lips against his and the feeling of her warm back beneath the span of his hands.
Now she was standing there staring at him from across the room, though not in a bad way. She wasn't glaring or anything, wasn't narrowing her eyes at him or looking at all judgemental, no… Instead, she had this slight tilt to her head that was familiar to him by now. It was the tilt she got when she was studying something, be it a person or a set of tracks on the ground. It was a tilt that made her look like a little bird to him. A sweet little bird with big, knowing blue eyes.
(Songbird, a voice in his mind whispered, remembering the sweetness of her voice. Yeah, that was about right.)
"Just so you know," Beth remarked, pushing off the wall and leaving the window behind to cross the floor towards him in measured, careful steps. "Food is great and all, but…" She crouched on her haunches in front of him, looking down at the deer leg and then back up at him, her blue eyes fixing on him as if pinning him in place; not painfully but softly and gently and knowingly, just like her voice as she went on, "I need you more than I need food, Daryl."
In truth, Daryl didn't think he'd ever been needed. At least not in the way he thought Beth meant. Sure, they'd needed him back at the prison. Needed him to go on runs, needed him to fetch food, needed him to protect them. They'd needed him the same way you needed an object, though, something that had a use to you. Like people back before all this needed a grocery store, or whatever. Because it was there and it was convenient and it could get you what you needed.
But Beth… when she said he needed him, Daryl knew she meant far more than that. She didn't need him because he could get her food or because he was good with his bow. She needed his company, needed him at her side, needed his… partnership.
That was a way he'd never been needed before, and it made him reel a bit to realize not only that, but how much it meant to him. How much it mattered to be needed by someone for who you were, not just what you could do.
It was so immensely important that realizing it was almost too intense.
So maybe all he could do just then was duck his head and grunt in reply, but Beth didn't seem to mind. She just smiled faintly at the corners of her lips, and looked down at the haunch of deer leg to say, "C'mon, why don't you teach me how to help you skin and cut this? Might as well make something extra good for dinner, since you risked your life for it…"
A little over an hour later they were both leaning back in their chairs at the small table and Daryl watched with a wry little smile as Beth rubbed her hand across her belly and sighed. "Okay," she murmured, watching him through slitted eyes with a faint smile of her own, "So maybe it was almostworth the risk to have some meat again. Maybe. But only almost, okay? I don't want you getting any ideas."
With a low chuckle, Daryl just shook his head. He'd learned his lesson, at least when it came to this, when it came to taking the kind of risks that might separate them the way they'd almost been separated once already back at that funeral home. He should have thought of that then, out with that herd of walkers almost on him. Should have remembered his terror, the way he'd cried out her name, the way he'd chased after her, pounding feet on the pavement in pursuit of that car, in pursuit of the fear that he'd lost her.
He remembered it now, though. He wouldn't forget anymore.
Thinking it was one thing but putting it into words was another, and that was something Daryl tended to be complete shit at. Maybe some of it showed in his eyes even as he just watched her from across the table, because after a moment Beth leaned in and reached out to rest her hand lightly over his. It was only a moment. Just enough for him to feel the warmth of her hand, to notice yet again how tiny it was compared to his own as her fingers overlayed his, and to feel reassured by the look in her eyes and the faint smile on her lips.
Then she pulled back, and with another sigh she rose to her feet and crossed to the window. He didn't have to follow her to know what she was looking at. The groans of the dead echoed through the glass and through the chinks in the wooden walls. They surrounded the Mill, pressing in vain at the walls and doors in their attempt to get inside. Eventually the fire in the distance might call to them again, but not yet. Maybe not till the sun set and the fire caught their attention.
For now they remained, surrounded on all sides as if the walkers were a sea and the mill was a tiny island of safety in the middle of it where he and Beth might have been stranded but were also kept safe.
"Come on," he murmured, pushing to his feet as well. "Watchin' 'em ain't gonna do you no good, girl. Ain't you ever heard that saying about a watched pot?"
"Yeah." After a moment she turned her head to look at him and he was struck for a moment by the way the sun coming through the dusty glass seemed to gild her hair and the line of her jaw, turning her into an image of an angel before she offered him a faint smile that shifted his focus. "A watched pot never boils, right? My mama used to say that."
"Mm." His too, come to think of it. She'd had a lot of sayings, some of them all her own, and a good half of them used to rationalize the sort of things that went on in their home... But he didn't like talking much about his Ma.
"Though I'm not exactly waiting for them to boil." Beth glanced out the window one last time and then, with a chuckle, let the cloth cover it, "I guess that phrase sounds better than, what… a watched herd of walkers never moves on?"
Daryl smirked. "A watched herd never vanishes?"
"A watched walker never… wanders?" The attempted alliteration made Beth giggle and just like that, Daryl saw the worry ease from her face again, saw the tension melt away to be replaced by a hint of that familiar sparkle in her eyes.
Trying as best he could not to remember the way she'd looked after that kiss (flushed and breathless, with a darkness in her eyes and her lips just the slightest bit swollen) he reached out and nudged her arm with the back of his hand before letting it fall to his side. "C'mon," he remarked gruffly. "Let's do another check thru, make sure this place is secure. Then maybe we can give that book we started last night another try."
For the last day or so things had been quiet enough that they hadn't needed to keep such a strict watch at night, and Daryl had felt comfortable with both of them drifting off to sleep together; usually side-by-side or with Beth laying down on the small mattress while he stretched out on his back beside her.
Tonight with the herd outside surrounding them, he thought it was best to revert to their usual watch schedule and as always he'd insisted on taking first shift, sitting up with his back to the wall a short distance from the iron stove, just enough to feel the warmth from the banked fire. Beth was laying on the mattress in front of him, curled beneath one of their blankets where she was safe to fall asleep and get some rest after what he knew had been a trying day.
The problem was that she wasn't. Sleeping, that is.
He could tell she wasn't, of course. It had been just the two of them for a good while now, long enough that Daryl had long since memorized the patterns of her breathing. He knew the rise and fall of her back and chest and how it would slow as she fell asleep, or the movements of her body and how she would end up on her side curled up a little and gradually stop fidgeting until she stilled, and remained there for most of the hours that she slept.
Her knew she wasn't sleep now because for one thing, her breathing wasn't slow enough. For another she kept moving; first from side to side and then settling on her back to stare up at the ceiling.
He wondered if something was plaguing her thoughts but if it was, he didn't have to think too hard to figure it out. The herd was still all around them- perhaps some of them had been lured by the flicker of the fire in the distance, but not all, not by far. Their hands slapped on the outer walls or the front doors, and through the cracks in the wood and the thin glass of the windows their moans and groans filtered in.
The sounds of the dead echoed through the old mill, filling the cold air as if they were the hands of the walkers themselves reaching in to try and grasp at them in the darkness.
"Where do you think they came from?" Her voice, coming as it did unexpectedly in the midst of all those groans, would have made him jump if he hadn't just been watching her. As it was, it took him a moment to focus and before he could say anything in response Beth went on, "What if they're the same herd that overran the farm? Or what if…" He watched as she swallowed hard; even in the darkness lit only by the faint glow of the moon through the windows he could see the faint jump of the muscles in her throat before she went on in a hoarse whisper, "What if they're from the prison. What if… what if the people we knew…"
"Beth." His voice was low, a combination of warning and reassurance at the same time though it didn't seem to stop her.
"What if they're out there right now?" Her voice seemed to rise in pitch with each word she spit out, "Sliding their hands on the walls, trying to curl their fingers through the boards. What if Michonne is out there or- or Tyreese, or- or Rick, what if we look outside tomorrow and-"
Even before she broke off with a choked sound, Daryl knew he needed to stop her, knew she was getting too worked up and too upset. Before she'd even cut off on that last word he was leaning forward onto his knees and reaching for her where she was laying there, staring up at the ceiling.
She was shivering. He realized that as he leaned over her and curled her fingers around her arm and felt it trembling in his grasp. His stomach churned and for a moment he felt like going out there with his bow and his knife, killing every last walker that surrounded them just so she could sleep tonight. "C'mon," he murmured lowly instead, knowing what was most important right now was being there for her, "Layin' there ain't helpin' and you're not gettin' any sleep. C'mere and sit beside me, alright? It'll be okay."
For now at least she moved without protest and in a way that only upset him more. That distance in her eyes and the dullness of her movements reminded him too much of how broken she had been in the days after the prison and after the train tracks when they'd found the bodies of the children. Like something had broken or died inside of her. This wasn't a full relapse, but it was verging on a minor one and the last thing he wanted was to let her sink into despair.
Daryl guided her up, bringing one of her blankets with them and carefully helping her until she was leaning against the wall beside him, closer to the stove and the warmth of it's banked fire. "Here," he murmured, wrapping her up first in the blanket and then when her shivering didn't subside, letting his arm drape carefully over her shoulders. His movements were hesitant and his arm practically hovered there for a few moments until he sensed from the relaxing of her body that she welcomed the touch. Only then did he let the weight of his arm settle across her thin, shivering shoulders.
"S'alright," he murmured softly, feeling his own relief as the tension in her body eased and she leaned slowly against him a bit. Only when he'd felt her shivering begin to slow did Daryl go on, "If it helps, I don't think they were coming from either of those places." When he felt her tilt her head to look up at him, he asked softly, "Picture it in your head. What direction were they comin' from, out of the woods?"
Beth was quiet for only a moment, and when he turned just enough to look down into her upturned face he could see the thoughts playing across it and the gears turning in her head as she remembered both the scene and what he'd taught her of directions. "The sun was setting to… to my left, which is the West and so… they were coming from the North East?"
"Right," Daryl exhaled softly. Looking down at her gave him the strangest urges. He gave in to one of them and let his fingers smooth over the back of her hair, but resisted the other urge, the one that told him to lean in and kiss her forehead. With a faint grunt he went on instead, "An' what direction is the prison? What direction did we come from?" It was the same direction those cops had been taking her, though he didn't figure it was back towards the prison. Maybe towards Atlanta beyond, or somewhere near it. He figured you'd have to be an idiot to try for Atlanta these days; or any city, for that matter.
"The prison is North." She paused, and amended, "North Northwest, anyway. Right?"
Daryl just nodded, still looking down into her eyes as his fingers carded lightly through her hair. "Exactly. Which means they ain't comin' from there, yeah? Not the farm either, that's Northwest from here. So don't worry too much 'bout that, alright?"
The expression she gave him was more a flicker at the corners of her lips than a smile but he'd take it. He'd take anything that was better than her shivering against him, talking in that scared voice that was rarer and rarer to hear from her these days and as such, far more upsetting.
Now thankfully she was settling against him instead, resting her cheek against his shoulder and breathing slowly in and out. He let his hand settle back onto her shoulder too, his thumb shifting to graze lightly back and forth over the curve of it through her shirt, only dimly aware that the gentle touch was causing her to relax into him even more.
He was more aware, in some part of his mind, of how unusual this was for him. Or would have been, before her anyway. He'd never been one for touch; not surprising considering everything he had been though. Yet somehow it seemed normal to be here like this with her, snug and close and giving her that reassuring touch as they sat in silence.
Well, almost silence anyway. Because the groans of the undead around them hadn't stopped, and when the two of them fell silent they only seemed to echo louder through the rafters and the open, empty space.
"I can't stand that sound," she whispered with her cheek still resting right against the leather of his vest. "When it's just a few of them it's different, you know? But this… this is even worse than the prison. At least then they were out by the fences, and when you were deep inside you couldn't hear them. You could sleep. Now it's like they're all around me, like they're in my head or something."
He didn't even need to hear the change in the pitch of her voice to know she was getting upset again, he could feel the tension in her body and the tightening in her shoulders. He'd have offered to grab the book they were reading and finish it off perhaps, allowing his words to fill the silence. This one was a newer book, one they'd found back at that farmhouse before the herd had come. Some action type thing with a former marine who travelled around the country without settling, always moving, usually with only the clothes on his back. Beth said he reminded her of Daryl, though Daryl had retorted that he certainly never helped uncover government conspiracies or foil murder plots or any shit like that.
Anyway, they couldn't read right now. With the herd around them, none of them wanted to risk more than a banked fire safely inside the stove. Lighting even a candle might cause a flicker of light to be seen outside, and they didn't want to risk encouraging the herd to stay any longer than it already had.
Of course, that didn't mean he couldn't tell stories of his own. He'd told her before he didn't have many, and that was true, but he did have some. Maybe they weren't the kinda stories she had, but they were his nonetheless.
So he cleared his throat, and as his thumb brushed across her shoulder one more time Daryl murmured, "I ever tell you about how Merle tried to join th' army once?" The story was the first to jump to his mind, perhaps because of the book they'd been reading earlier.
"No…" Beth tilted her head again and looked up at him, and he was encouraged to see a look of curiosity on her face as she asked in a voice already far more relaxed than it had been a moment ago, "Tell me?"
"Ain't much, but it's, well… very Merle." He chuckled at the thought and leaned back against the wall. One arm stayed draped around Beth's shoulder, but the other rested across his knee and his hand dangled loosely between his legs as he said, "He joined up when I was still livin' at home. Might've been a good deal for him, in some ways. He was strong and observant and good with weapons. But he was Merle, y'know? Headstrong and short-fused. Wouldn't take shit from no one. Don't know what possessed him t' think he could take get by in a place where he'd have t' take orders all th' time. Turns out he couldn't, anyway."
Daryl shifted a bit in place, clearing his throat before he went on with a hint of a smile, "Got into an argument with a sergeant. Riled the guy up, called him somethin' offensive, I dunno. He told me the story a dozen times or more, but he was always drunk so it changed a lot. But I remember him always sayin' he kept goadin' the guy to take it up the chain of command, basically sayin' he couldn't handle it himself, you know? Tryin' to get the man to snap."
"And did he?" Beth's voice was breathy with curiosity beside him.
"Oh yeah. Guy took a swing, and Merle wades right in, punches out his front teeth." Daryl shook his head as Beth gasped beside him, but when he looked down she was covering her mouth as if to hide her laughter.
"What happened then?"
"Got dishonorably discharged, then they court-martialled him. Went to prison for sixteen months." Daryl shook his head again, slower this time, and though there was a faint smile on his lips his shoulders hunched a bit. "Weren't the first time he went to jail, anyway. Not the last, either. Was close to the longest, though, I reckon."
Beth was quiet for a moment, mulling over the story with a hum. "Sounds like Merle," she said after a moment. He knew of course that she hadn't known the man well, but she'd know him somewhat from the time Merle had been at the prison.
"You know, I reckon he liked you, much as Merle could like anyone." Daryl looked down at her with a faint smile. "He told me about you shootin' that gun at the ceiling when he was fightin' with Glenn, after I got back with Rick." Daryl gave a low chuckle that rumbled in his chest. "Said you had fire, an' he liked it." Course he'd also said some other inappropriate things that Daryl wasn't gonna repeat, although the words echoed in a whisper through his mind, all: sweet piece, that one, nice little handful I bet.
At least telling her that one bit was enough to get her smiling, and the smile lingered on her face as she asked him, "Did you ever think about joining the army?"
"Nah. Knew it wasn't for me. Might not've punched someone like Merle did, but I wouldn't have liked it either. Goin' wherever someone told me to, doin' what they said without knowing why… would've rubbed me the wrong way. Plus, by the time I was old enough…" He shrugged. "Was with Merle, then. Things I did with him, probably not th' kind of guy the army would've taken."
This time she was the one who shifted beside him, turning a little bit to face him and furrowing her brow. "What do you mean by that?"
"Uh uh." He grunted, but to make sure she knew he wasn't annoyed or nothing, he nudged her a bit with his side and brushed his fingers over her shoulder as he added, "Your turn to tell me a story first, Greene."
There it was again, that little bird-like head tilt, accompanied by those studious, knowing eyes but this time a hint of a smile as well. "Then you'll tell me another story?"
"If you want." For her he would anyway. He ain't never felt like sharing much of his past with anyone, but it always seemed easier with her.
"Alright." She bit her lip and picked at the cuff on the sleeve of her flannel shirt. "Well… what did you want to know? I mean, did you want me to just pick a random story, or did you want to ask me something?"
That took a bit of thinking, but not too long. Daryl turned the wrist of his free hand and scratched at the side of his knee as he thought, but when the question popped into his head he just hummed. "You asked me 'bout the army an' all, so what about you?" He turned to look at her, his thumb absentmindedly grazing her shoulder, rubbing across the soft flannel. "What did you wanna do after school, y'know… if you'd made it, or whatever?"
"I dunno…" Her voice trailed off but she looked up at him with a faint smile. "I know that sounds like a cop-out, but I honestly don't. I know adults act like you're just supposed to know, but I've always kinda thought that's a bit ridiculous, you know? To expect kids to know at fifteen and sixteen and seventeen what they wanna spend their whole lives doing?"
The funny thing was, he did get it, but only sort of. Because no one had ever expected anything from him like that. No one had ever asked him what he wanted to do when he grew up. They'd already known, or at least they'd assumed. Because he was a Dixon.
As he watched, Beth shifted beneath his arm to curve into him again and her hand rested lightly on his knee, tracing shapes against his jeans as she went on, "I always thought… maybe I'd do something in music? For awhile I wanted to work with animals too. I mean my Dad was a vet and I always liked helping him." She wrinkled her nose a bit and then sighed. "Either way I wanted to go to school at the very least. Somewhere close enough to visit if I wanted, but far enough that I could be on my own for the first time, you know? Live in a dorm, have fun with my friends, try some classes out until I figured out what suited me? But I never got to even finish my junior year, so…"
Then she looked up at him again and the smile on her lips lit up her eyes as she teased, "But hey, I do go to Daryl Dixon University now, remember?"
With a snort and a little shake of his head, Daryl remarked, "Ain't much of a University."
"Hey, don't know it. It's my number one choice of school-" She reached up and pressed her finger to his lips as she quickly added, "And don't you say it's my only choice, Mr. Dixon!"
If he froze, it wasn't just because that was exactly what he'd been about to say before she'd told him to stop. No, he stopped because of her finger pressed to his lips like this, so soft and warm. He was suddenly very aware of her closeness and the way her body felt tucked against his side, and how her eyes looked so big as they stared into his from her face such a short distance from his own.
He was aware yet again that he wanted to kiss her and this time, despite the fact that she had been the one to initiate it both times, he very nearly did. Nearly, anyway.
When she finally drew back her finger her movement was slow, and he couldn't seem to help reading a bit of hesitancy into it. Maybe it was just in his imagination, but he was almost certain that he could see the same warmth in her eyes that he felt filling every inch of him right now, as if the warmth of her body was spreading into him, through his veins, and pooling low in his stomach.
(He couldn't help but think that maybe he should have kissed her. Maybe she'd wanted him to.)
Daryl cleared his throat, nervous and unsure all of the sudden until Beth just gave him one of those sweet, disarming smiles that had him forgetting for a moment was he was so confused about. "Your turn," she murmured. When he blinked at her, completely dazed and frankly still feeling the warmth of her finger on his lips, Beth giggled and added, "It's your turn to tell a story or answer a question or whatever, Mr. Dixon. And I think you promised to tell me about being with Merle, and why you wouldn't be the kind of guy the army wanted."
(That was another thing he wasn't sure about; her calling him Mr. Dixon. 'Cause lord knew it did things to him it probably shouldn't have.)
He shifted in place, and if his fingers curled a bit more firmly over her round shoulder to tug her back into his side, it happened so casually that he wasn't even fully aware of it. "Ain't a very good story." In all honesty, it wasn't the kind of story he wanted to tell Beth at all. Of course she already knew some of his past, knew from the night they'd gotten drunk on moonshine some of what he and Merle had been into. But she didn't know all of it, and there was so much in there he was ashamed of, so much of it that was dark and black and not fit for the likes of her.
Yet those big blue eyes, sweet and kind in a way that reflected of just why he didn't want to tell her in the first place, also managed to pull things like this right out of him regardless. "Merle ran a biker gang, for awhile. The, uh… Savage Sons Motorcycle Club."
"Savage Sons?" Beth raised an eyebrow, and the hint of amusement he saw on her face made Daryl chuckle.
"Hey I didn't name it. Merle did." After a moment, he shrugged. "Was like I told you before, that was what I did… drifting around with Merle, doing whatever he said. For awhile it was that, the Sons. Riding bikes…" He shifted in place and swallowed hard. "Sellin' drugs. Stuff like that."
His gaze stayed fixed ahead at the opening to the staircase leading down. All around them the sounds of the undead echoed through the air in drawn-out groans and heavy moans, but all Daryl heard was Beth's voice echoing through his mind. I've never been in jail. Was she gonna say something like that now? Was she gonna ask him if he'd ever dealt drugs, or done them himself?
Daryl should have known to give her more credit than that. She hadn't really been in the wrong that night, asking him something like that. She hadn't known, after all. But even still Beth had changed since then; had grown and learned, not just about the world but about him. So he really shouldn't have been surprised when he heard her softly ask beside him, "Did you have your own bike back then?"
Sitting as he was all hunched down and unwilling to look at her (although his arm never once left her shoulder), it was obvious how the question affected him. He sat up a bit straighter, turned to look at her with an amused quirk to the corner of his lips as he studied her face, his blue eyes peering into her own for a long moment before he responded, "Yeah. Lost it though. The day everything went to shit I had my truck. Went to find Merle at the bar he was at and that was it. Left the bike back where we were staying and never saw it again. Had Merle's bike for a bit, you know that, and then…"
He shrugged. She knew what had happened to Merle's bike, knew it had been left behind in the ruin of the prison that had once been their home. Which was why he was so confused for a moment when she responded hesitantly, "Maybe we could go get it." He blinked at her, brow knit together until she blushed faintly in the dim light and said, "Your bike, I mean. The one you left wherever you were staying, before things went… well, before all this." She swallowed, and then it was her turn to duck her head a little, almost shy as she admitted, "I've never ridden a motorcycle before. A tractor, sure, but never a bike. I always kinda wanted too, though."
He'd been all set on saying no. It wasn't exactly in the direction they were going, and besides… he wasn't sure if he wanted to go back to that. To the motel he'd been staying in, to that crappy little town, to the bike that might or might not have even been there. The bike that sure, he'd put a shit ton of work into, the bike he'd loved... but the bike that was, despite all that, a remnant of his past. A person he no longer was anymore.
But then she had to go and mention that she'd never ridden a bike before, and now instead of thinking about all that, all he could think about was Beth on the back of his bike with her arms wrapped around his waist and her hair blowing back in the wind. Would she hate it, or love it? A year ago he never would have pictured little Beth Greene as the type to love riding a bike but now? Yeah, he could see it. Could almost feel it, too, the warmth of her arms around his waist and the weight of her against his back, and the way she'd maybe laugh as he throttled the bike…
Suddenly he cleared his throat. His attempt to chase away the images from his mind, though, was rather like blowing away a cloud of smoke… the smoke dissipated but the scent of it lingered, just as little hints of those images lingered in the corners of his mind. So in the end when he looked down at her, all he could think to say was a simple, "Maybe." And when she smiled, looking far too eager all things considered, he added warningly, "We'll see, alright? Gotta wait this out first, and go check out that fire when we can…"
The expression on her face faltered, and Daryl knew he'd taken a misstep. The last thing she needed right now was to be reminded of the herd all around them, let alone whatever waited in the distance for them in those burning remains of a place that might hold answers about their family… about her sister, who had given up faith in her.
"Be good to have a bike again though," he said after a second, his gaze lingering on her faze until he saw her perk up again. "Ain't makin' any promises, but it's not the worst idea, alright?"
It seemed like it was enough for her, for now anyway, judging by the way she relaxed against him and murmured with a faint smile, "Alright, Daryl."
With a hum he let his thumb brush over her shoulder again, the silence lingering for a couple moments before he softly said, "You should get some rest. Think you can, now?"
Beth hesitated for just a few seconds, and he didn't fail to notice that hint of shyness in her voice as she asked, "Maybe… if I can stay here, with you. If you don't mind…"
It was like she was afraid he might say no. As if she was unsure as he was about all this between them, about all these changes and what they might mean. Oddly enough, that only made him feel more comfortable, even if it was just for now. That feeling of comfort was enough for him to nod in agreement, enough for him to shift his hand up to cradle her head and guide it to his shoulder as he murmured, "Go on. Get some rest."
It was enough for him to sit there, too, forgetting the groans of the dead around them in favor of the sound of Beth's breaths gradually slowing as she eased from consciousness and fell asleep, her body curled against his, her cheek pillowed against his shoulder, and her hand resting lightly against his chest.
1) The book series Daryl and Beth are reading is the Jack Reacher series by Lee Pace. Yes they did a movie based on one of them. No, I do not actually acknowledge it's existence because Tom Cruise is a HORRIBLE Reacher. HORRIBLE. However I totally think Daryl would love the books.
2) The background/history about Merle/the army/the bike gang is a combo of show canon, stuff discussed after the fact (on talking dead, according to Merle's wiki), and some background given in the "Survival Instinct" game which I sort of edited a bit to fit how I see the Dixons.
3) I have a good chunk of the upcoming story planned on now and I'm very excited about it!
Anyway I think that's all my notes on this chapter. I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did writing and editing it. I am as always grateful to everyone who keeps reading this story, I love all the reviews you leave me, so feel free to let me know what you thought of this chapter!