Since last night, when Beth had almost had what Daryl could only assume was a near-breakdown in the back of that sleigh, she'd been unusually quiet. It was funny really, that her silence could bother him now, when just a few weeks ago her chattering had threatened to drive him round the bend.
At least he was pretty sure this silence wasn't the awful sort. It wasn't the silence that had followed their escape from the prison, when even he could see the emotions like a rising tide of darkness inside of her, threatening to break her down. It wasn't an angry silence, either. He of all people knew angry silence, and this wasn't it; there wasn't heat simmering under the surface of that pale skin, or darkening her blue eyes.
In a way, her silence almost seemed peaceful, and yet not quite. He had a feeling the 'not quite' was a sadness that was lingering in the wake of last night, in the memories of her lost father, and maybe because of the loss of the cabin as well. He hadn't said anything, but he'd known that Beth had secretly wanted to stay there even before she'd told him yesterday. She hadn't voice the desire out loud while they were staying there, but she hadn't really needed to. She had been beginning bit by bit to settle into it, to turn it into home in a way only she seemed able to, only to find herself yet again jolted quickly out.
As he walked silently beside her, Daryl found himself wishing he could have held that place for her. At the time, he had known he couldn't risk it. One glimpse out the window at those tough sonofabitches headed for the cabin, and all he could think about was the girl curled up inside, wrapped up in the blanket by the fire and looking like a goddamn angel or some shit. He couldn't even think of risking her safety. Keeping her safe was not just his job, in his mind, but also something he felt he needed to do, even wanted to do.
Of course, in retrospect, a part of him still wished he could have saved it. Beth was strong enough to manage, out here in the woods, constantly moving. But a girl like her deserved better than this. She deserved a snug little house and a warm fireplace, and a better place to sleep than the cold hard ground. It frustrated him that he hadn't been able to give her that, and it fueled a desire in him to at least find a way to give hersomething. Anything.
(Especially considering a small part of him was full conscious of the stocking tucked away into his bag, still holding the little gifts she had worked so hard to give him. Daryl wasn't the kind of person that could make gestures like that; at least not so perfectly. But some part of him wanted to try, even if it was just in his own way.)
"Was thinkin'..." Daryl broke roughly into the silence, hesitating until he saw Beth glance over at him. "Could maybe do some more trainin', tomorrow." He paused a second and his shoulders shifted under his vest, his head ducking to look at the ground in an attempt to look casual as he added, "Maybe y'could try my bow, again. If y' want."
The silence lasted just long enough for him to risk a look up at her from under the long fringe of his dark hair, but it was worth it when he saw the faint smile on her lips as she asked, "Really?"
"Mm." He nodded, biting back the urge to tease that it wasn't like he was gonna offer it, then take it back. He'd probably have just come off as mean, like he would have to anyone else. At least, that was what he told himself. It was easier to pretend she might get upset than to admit that she could read him like a book sometimes; that she'd probably know immediately that he wasn't being a dick, he was being playful with her instead. The truth was that Daryl wasn't sure he was ready for her to know he was tempted to be playful and teasing with her.
Beth's step seemed to perk up a bit at his agreement; she had been lagging a step or two behind, but she was right beside him now with a smile on her lips as she teased, "Just you wait, I'm gonna get so good at your bow."
Daryl gave a low chuckle. "We'll see."
"Yeah," she grinned at him, and lord did it feel good to see that light in her eyes again, pushing away that quiet sadness, "You'll see."
It took a few seconds before he realized he was basking in the brightness of her smile. Like she was the sun, glowing at him, and he was just soaking it up. Daryl cleared his throat and looked away. Merle would have teased the shit out of him, if he'd caught him looking like that, especially at a girl like her.
"C'mon," he said roughly, gesturing through the woods ahead. "Suns setting soon. Gotta find a place to stop for th' night. See if you can find us somethin' good, Greene."
In the end, she did surprisingly well, picking out a small clearing amid a circle of trees. Their usual camp ritual was practically habit by now, even after the brief time they'd spent in the cabin. He had gone to set up their little makeshift tent, while she'd strung up the cans around the small campsite, and then as she worked on starting a fire, he'd gone looking for dinner; though he'd been careful not to stray too far from her today. Just in case.
Dinner had been a single squirrel tonight, but with the added can of beans he'd had stashed in his bag, it wasn't so bad. He'd given the bigger share to Beth, same as he always did, and if she'd noticed she hadn't said anything. She didn't say much of anything, before and after they ate, she'd just sat across the fire from him and worked her way through her food.
He'd thought (worried, really, though he wouldn't have admitted it), that maybe she'd not want to sit too close to him tonight the way she had been at the cabin, the way she had been last night in the sleigh. Maybe she'd decide she wanted space, again. Maybe that was what her silence meant, now. But then the sun set and the darkness settled around them, and there was Beth, wrapped up in their only blanket and coming up beside him where he sat with his back to a tree.
He said nothing, but neither did she. Her side pressed lightly against his, and slowly but surely he felt her settling in closer until her head was resting lightly on his shoulder. It was getting to the point where her closeness didn't even surprise him, to be honest. Didn't bother him, either, despite the fact that if it had been anyone else, Daryl wouldn't have even let them get this close.
He could sense her falling into that earlier silence again, just enough for Daryl's mind to start searching for ways to bring that smile back to her lips. Before he could come up with something on his own, though, nature seemed to do it for him.
"Look." Daryl lifted his arm and pointed a flicker of light coming towards them, hovering in the air across from them. He felt Beth perk up curiously beside him, and his voice stayed soft as he murmured in explanation, "Fireflies."
Beth drew in a slow, surprised little breath and then exhaled it in a sigh of, "Oh... Oh, I haven't seen fireflies in so long, Daryl."
"Me either." He watched as a few more flickered into view, coming out of the bushes to hover around their extinguished fire. Beth just seemed content to drink them in for a long moment; her head slowly came to rest back on his shoulder, but when he glanced down at her she was riveted to the sight of the glowing little lights swirling through the air in front of them.
"They remind me of Christmas lights," Beth breathed out. He could see the moment something changed in her face, when something knew flashed into her mind, and he knew exactly what she was remembering. There was a smile on her face again and Daryl knew without a doubt that it was for him, and that night when he'd lit the candles for her. He didn't even know if he was worthy of a smile like that, but he wasn't gonna complain.
"They're better," he said with a nod to the fireflies. "Natural."
(They were a natural beauty, he thought, but he didn't dare speak beyond a whisper in his mind: Like her.)
One fluttered close to them, hovering in front of their faces, and the thought popped into Daryl's mind to catch it and enclose it in his hands and offer it as a gift to her. Before he could even move, though, Beth was reaching out and gently scooping the little bug into her hands.
Unlike him, she didn't hold it tight or close in her hands. She let her fingers part, just enough for the light to shine through the gaps. Daryl was unexpectedly riveted to the sight of her hands filled with that flickering glow that washed across her face, casting it in a pale, almost angelic light; as if she needed anything to make her look more like the sort of pure being that Daryl had no right being so close to.
Merle would have squashed the bug in his hands with a chuckle, just like that. Daryl might have too, at least if his brother had been there to see him. But not Beth. She opened her hands and held them up flat, and as the glowing bug gently floated up from her palms, she just watched it with pure joy and laughed.
In that moment, awash in the glow of the firefly that lit up her face almost as much as her smile did, Beth really was akin to an angel. She had a way about her, a light that penetrated even into the darkness that seemed to fill Daryl, darkness that had only grown in the wake of the prison. Darkness that had threatened to consume him until that night at the moonshine shack, when she'd wedged her way into it, creating the tiniest of cracks in that dark wall, just enough to set flame to his memories of the past wedged deeply inside.
Sitting there watching her, all he could do was drink in that light and hope that maybe, just maybe, he might find a way to let some more of that light inside him, somehow. That he might be worthy.
But if he couldn't have some of it for himself, Daryl knew he'd do anything to keep that light safe. Anything. Even if he had to chase down hell itself.
He had no way of knowing that soon, he would do just that. Right now, all he could see was Beth Greene, awash in a firefly glow, and looking up at him with a smile he didn't even care to wonder if he deserved or not.
