**A/N: Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, also earns the story's mature rating.
Daryl Dixon was an idiot and an asshole and a complete and utter fuck-up. He was the biggest damn idiot asshole fuck-up to ever have lived, which was probably saying something in a world as screwed up as this one, but he truly believed it in that moment.
It had hit him the moment Beth went jolting to her feet. He'd looked up in surprise and even though she refused to look back at him he could see the pain in every line of her face and he had just one idiotic second to wonder what the hell had happened before it hit him.
He'd happened, of course. Him and his big stupid mouth going on about how marriage was nothing but shit and there was nothing good about being a Dixon. It didn't matter that his belief in that was deeply rooted in a lifetime of issues. What mattered was that he'd spoken without thinking and now Beth was striding away from him with her shoulders sagging like his words had placed some huge and heavy weight on her that she'd never wanted. Maybe he had. After all, it was Beth. Sweet, good Beth, who'd grown up in a loving family and probably dreamed of getting married one day. Now he'd just taken that dream and shattered it.
Daryl had always known in some part of his heart and head that she was too good for him. It'd just been a matter of time before he fucked it up somehow the way he'd fucked up when he'd let her get taken. Only this was worse because she trusted him and he'd hurt her and that was the thing he'd promised to himself that he'd never, ever do. Knowing he'd hurt her didn't just make him feel like an asshole and an idiot, it made him feel like his own heart was cracking, too.
"Beth, wait!" Daryl climbed to his feet as he saw her pause but then she was pushing on, hurrying through the campsite and towards the woods even as sun began to set above them.
There was a voice whispering in the back of his mind, low and rough, drawling out advice in a familiar echo: Let her go, baby brother, it ain't worth the trouble, ain't worth the drama, girl like her's never worth it.
Bullshit. His fingers clenched at his side as he took Merle's voice and mentally shoved it away behind a door he could slam shut harder than he ever had before. Because that was the exact opposite of how he felt. Beth was worth the trouble, was worth the drama, Beth was worth everything to him, and there was no way he was gonna stand here and continue being a damn idiot. There was no way he wasn't gonna try his hardest to fix this, to stop her from hurting.
Leaving Glenn behind him stammering out apologies, Daryl strode towards the forest with his crossbow slung over his back. He brushed off Rick's concerned questions and stepped into the woods just a half minute behind Beth. She wasn't trying to hide her tracks and he followed them easily, trailing her prints in the grass and dirt and walking as fast as he could to catch up with her.
It didn't take long before he heard the sound of rushing water up ahead and came out of the trees to see her perched at the edge of the small stream that fed the waterfall this campsite was centered near. She had her bow on the ground beside her and her jean-clad knees were drawn up to her chest so she could wrap her arms around them. Her whole body was trembling but even as he stood there watching her, Daryl could see her fighting to get herself under control.
It reminded him of just how strong she was, but also of the fact that he'd been the one to break her down even this much and lord, that was wrong. He was supposed to be the one at her side, supporting her. He wasn't supposed to be the one bringing her to a place where she needed support.
Now that he'd found her, Daryl realized he had no idea what to say. His feet crunched on the ground to signal his arrival, but he said nothing until he'd come up beside her and dropped to his haunches. "I'm sorry."
That was only the tip of the iceberg really, and he knew it, but it was as hard as always to find the words. Crouching there watching her, Daryl just wanted to wrap his arms around her and whisper apologies until she stopped trembling, but he was afraid- terrified even- that if he tried to touch her, she'd push him away. She had every right, after all.
"Beth, I… I'm a fucking idiot and a jerk and an asshole, and you don't deserve…"
"Don't." She didn't lift her head, but her rough voice issued from beneath her arms where she had them resting on her knees. "Please, Daryl. Don't say you don't deserve me, okay? That's bullshit, and you know it."
Though her fierceness made a part of him swell with pride, it also knocked him back a bit. He thought she might lash out at him the way she had that day back at the moonshine shack. He'd deserved it then as much as he did not, but Beth didn't say anything else and he knew it was because she was fighting to control her anxiety. It only made that guilt dig it's claws deeper into his belly. He swallowed hard and rocked on his heels. What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to fix this?
Daryl was quiet for a long moment before he shifted to sit down beside her. He drew his own knees up to rest his arms over them, and looked out over the stream as it flowed past them with a light burbling sound. It was peaceful in a way that seemed in such stark contrast to how he felt right now; broiling with turmoil, overwhelmed with pain and guilt.
Eventually, he began to speak. "I ain't never had a good image of what marriage is, Beth." He heard her draw in a breath beside him to speak and he held up a hand even if she couldn't see it. "Just… just let me get this out, okay? I know I fucked up and maybe I don't deserve a chance to explain, but… but I really want to, okay?"
"...Okay."
He took in her soft agreement as a tiny, tiny bit of hope, and then as his hand settled on his knee he started again, "Once, when my Dad wasn't around- probably at a bar, I don't remember-anyway, my Ma let me look at this album she had hidden away in the back of her closet. She'd made it herself, covered the front of it with the rose-patterned wallpaper she'd bought once for the living room. My Dad'd found it and thrown it all out in the trash, but she saved a scrap for that album." He was rambling, getting off track, his thoughts splitting off like hairs of a thread until he brought them back into line.
"In the album there were pictures of her when she was younger. I remember looking at them and thinkin' she was the prettiest woman I'd ever seen. Like she glowed, y'know? Like she was happy." He sighed. "She looked so happy in those pictures, and she'd run her fingers over them and set her drink aside to tell me about how she'd had all these dreams about leaving Georgia, maybe going up to see New York City. How she'd have a room full of books and she'd go see musicals on Broadway and just walk through the city when it rained."
His eyes pressed shut, and Daryl remembered his mother's voice all rough from all the drinking but still gentle with him as she got lost in memory. He could almost feel the ghost of her fingers curling through his hair, the whisper of her voice calling him her sweet baby boy while she breathed out those rambling, twisting stories about all her lost dreams and everything she'd wanted to be.
He looked down at his hands where they dangled between his knees and went on lowly, "Then she met my Dad. He already had a reputation for bein' rough, but she didn't listen. She loved him and he was sweet to her, at first. Till it was too late, anyway." He studied the lines on his hands, marked by the dirt worked almost permanently into his hands by now. "Merle used to say he could remember when she didn't drink, but he was almost ten years older than me, y'know? By the time I was born, Ma drank pretty much every day. Had to, she told me. I think it made it more bearable, somehow, or made her care less… made everything all numb." He raked his fingers through his hair and tried to keep himself distant from those memories even as talking about them conjured it up all over again.
After a moment Daryl's voice shifted to become rougher. "My pa told me once that the only thing a wife was good for was bitchin' and making sandwiches. Said some of 'em were good for gettin' kids off of, but my Ma couldn't even get that right half the time, cause look at me." He shrugged but from the corner of his eye he saw her lifting her head to look up at him. She stayed quiet though and he was grateful because he didn't know if he could keep talking if she interrupted. "That's all I've ever known of marriage. A man who beat his woman so much that the only way she could keep gettin' up every day was to drink until she forgets. A woman who used to be… happy and beautiful an' hopeful. Like you."
Daryl's head tipped down, hanging heavy on his shoulders as if he had the weight of his memories pressing down on him. It sure felt like he did. "All the marriages I knew were bad. People who lived around us were the same. The men beat their wives or they weren't ever around cause they were out gettin' drunk or foolin' around. If it wasn't beatin' goin' on, then they hated each other anyway. Sometimes I couldn't tell if they'd ever been in love to begin with. Hell… till I meant you, I didn't even think love was real."
It was true, though. He'd never thought a lot of things were real until he'd met Beth. Things like hope and goodness and love, and so much more. The knowledge of that had him exhaling a sigh as he turned and finally looked over at her. She still had her arms wrapped around herself, but the trembling of her body had slowed faintly and she was looking over at him now with her cheek resting on her knee. The look in her eyes almost broke him again because the hurt was still there from what he'd done, but now it was mixed in with the pain he knew she felt hearing him talk about his past.
"The thing is…" Daryl trailed off as he turned his body towards her a little, fighting the urge to reach for her even though it was all he wanted to do, even though every inch of him ached to pull her into his arms and hold her close. "Glenn was gettin' on my nerves and I just… reacted without thinkin', and I know I hurt you. An' I'm sorry. I know that don't make up for it at all, but I'm still sorry. That's just… that's how it is, for me, how it's always been. I don't have anything else to go by. When I think about marriage, all I think about is… pain, and hurt. Like the way I hurt you, today, but a hundred times worse."
Only when he'd dropped his gaze done again like he was finally done did Beth speak, quiet and soft, "Daryl… Would you ever hurt me on purpose?"
"Never." He didn't even have to think, let alone hesitate for a single second. "Never on purpose."
"Because you're not your father, Daryl. You never have been. And we're not your Ma and Pa, just like we're not my Mama and Daddy, either." She was looking at him all plaintively, and he knew she was trying to get it across, but it was like she was reaching over a canyon and the bridge just wasn't quite long enough yet. He didn't know how to extend it any further.
"But when you think about marriage, Beth, you think about your parents. When you think about bein' a wife, you think about your Ma, and how happy they were and how much your father loved her. When I think about it…" He swallowed hard. "When I hear Mrs. Dixon, I see… I see bruise marks and broken bones, I hear her cryin' herself to sleep at night while he calls her a loud dumb bitch for not cryin' quieter. I see that fire, and my house burned down, and I remember the tiny part of me that thought maybe she was better off…"
He broke off because his throat closed up on him and he just couldn't get the words out any more. It was too much. He'd meant it before when he'd said those words to Glenn, and he whispered them again now, his voice rough and choked off, "Ain't nothin' good about being a Dixon."
Beth's voice cut right through the darkness in his mind. "That's where you're wrong." His eyes were pressed shut, but then he felt her hand rest ever so lightly against his bare arm and he had to look at her. She was leaning in closer to him and the look in her eyes probably would have brought him to his knees if he wasn't already on the ground. "Cause that's not what I think of when I hear the name Dixon. I think of you. You're the only Dixon I've ever truly known, Daryl. You know what I think of, when I hear the name Dixon?"
He shook his head slowly, and as his tongue came out to wet his dry lips he kept his eyes on her, riveted as she went on, "To me, being a Dixon means being brave, and strong and loyal. A Dixon is sweeter than expected, and smart, and funny. A Dixon never, ever loses faith in you. A Dixon never gives up on the people they love, because being a Dixon means fighting to save the people you love." Her fingers traced over his skin as her soft voice wove a spell over him, drawing him back to her light like a moth to a flame that would never, ever burn him. "Maybe sometimes a Dixon might get worn down or even hurt, but they're never, ever broken because they're stronger than that. And a real Dixon never does the breaking, either. A real Dixon cares to much, to ever hurt someone on purpose."
She waited until he leaned in a little bit more, and then Beth's hand came up to cup the side of his face. She looked deep into his eyes as she held his face and spoke firmly and honestly, "I would be proud to be a Dixon any day, Daryl. Just as proud as I am to be a Greene."
There was a war inside of him between present and past. Between the child who had grown up knowing that to be a Dixon was dirt, to be a Dixon meant to be violent and angry and aggressive and bad, and the new voice- Beth's voice or his adult voice or maybe both- the one that whispered that maybe being a Dixon wasn't so bad because he wasn't so bad, not anymore. That voice whispered that if Beth thought being a Dixon was all those things, then maybe she was right. Because she was the best he knew of what it meant to be 'good', and if she truly believed that he was included in that…
After a long moment, Daryl lifted his hand to cup her own where it was pressed to his cheek. His palm covered the soft warm back of her hand as he looked into her eyes and asked softly, "Is that what you want? To be Mrs. Dixon?" Saying it still made something twist inside of him, something dark that twined back into the depths of his past.
"No." His brow furrowed and as soon as it did, Beth gave him a hesitant smile. "Not right now, anyway. I never asked for that, Daryl, Glenn was the one who brought that up- and trust me, he's getting a piece of my mind later, even if he couldn't have known…" She broke off and shook her head. "That doesn't matter right now. Daryl, I don't need to be Mrs. Dixon, not right now. I guess I just… wanted to know that someday, maybe, it was an option. Even though things like marriage don't really have a standing anymore considering that there's not even a law these days… it's still something I've always wanted. But not now, you know? Maybe eventually. Maybe someday. I think it just hurt because it sounding like you were saying it could never happen and that just… hit me hard, I guess."
His fingers curled around hers lightly where they were still pressed to his cheek and Daryl drew in a deep breath as he looked into her eyes. But before he could speak she shook her head and pressed on, "Wait, before you say anything… I just want you to know, Daryl. It's never mattered what we call ourselves. I never needed to be your girlfriend, even if it would have fit somehow. You and I, we've never needed titles or names for what we are, because we just are. You and me, Dixon and Greene, partners in everything… that's all I've ever wanted or needed, Daryl, We'll always be that, won't we? Even if you never wanna add a Mrs. in front of my name."
Looking into those big blue eyes for a moment was like looking out into an never-ending sky. Endless. That's what he saw when he looked at Beth. Beyond his fears of losing her, of pushing her away somehow, when he looked at her he couldn't imagine ever having her in his life and being at her side. He couldn't imagine them not being exactly what she said they were; him and her, Dixon and Greene, partners, together. Always. Daryl drew in a breath and whispered on the exhale, "Maybe not never, okay?"
It was the most he could say, but it seemed like it was the right thing for now. It had to be, given the way the tension eased from her face and the light came back into those big blue eyes. He exhaled with a shudder, his hands twitching towards her but stopping short as he asked in a voice that was still low with a hint of shame, "Can I hold you now?" He swallowed the please, but it was right on the tip of his tongue.
"Always," Beth breathed out. That was all it took. He gave in to the urge, sliding his hands over his sides to grip her hips and tug her into his lap, and in the wrap of his arms around her and the press of their bodies together, both of them were shuddering with the relief of being back together.
"I'm sorry," Daryl whispered against her hair, feeling the silken strands pressed to his lips as he closed his eyes and breathed her in deep.
Her arms wrapped around him, fingers curling into his hair as she pressed her cheek to his temple. "I'm sorry," Beth murmured, lips grazing his own hair as she spoke. "I shouldn't have run off like that. I knew- I mean, a part of me knew why you were saying those things. After everything you've told me, everything you've trusted me with… I knew you weren't saying it to be hurtful, but it still stung, you know? I guess some tiny part of me is still a little girl tripping around her room in her mom's old dress and wedding veil."
Despite the ache he still felt at having hurt her, at having caused what was- sort of, anyway- something close to their first real disagreement, Daryl found himself chuckling at her words, 'cause he could picture her just like that; a sweet little girl with big blue eyes and soft blond hair, walking around with a veil on, pretending to get married. "Who you'd marry? Should I be jealous?"
The sound of her softly laughing against his temple eased the worry within him a little more, and as his hands brushed over her back he heard her murmur, "My teddy bear and no, he ended up with a stuffed bunny I used to have, so I guess it wasn't meant to be." She smiled, but only slightly. "But you know, I always imagined it, even when I was little. Not just… the white dress, and the flowers, but… but finding someone who I wanted to be with forever, you know? A soul mate, a…"
"Partner?" The word spilled from his lips without hesitation and Daryl's breath hitched for just a second before Beth shifted in his arms to rest her forehead to his.
As she looked down into his eyes, she breathed out softly, "Yes. Exactly." Then a smile curved up her lips, the best thing he'd seen all day really as she added, "I guess I already found that."
The things they were talking about felt so big to Daryl. Big in a sense that they were sort of momentous for him, admitting that he had feelings like this for her that were akin to the idea of soul-mates. But also, they just felt big as in… bigger than him, bigger than the world even. Like what they felt for each other was larger than both of them and it just swept them up and filled them and expanded around them. Like it was too big even to name or put a title or description too. It just was.
Because it was so big in so many ways, and because he felt so small not only in comparison to it but for how he'd dismissed it earlier in the heat of the moment, Daryl didn't even know what to say in response to her. So he didn't say anything at all. He just lifted his hands, cupped her cheeks, and pressed his lips to hers. Her lips instantly pressed back against his and he felt another knot of tension uncurl within him as they got lost in a slow, loving kiss, letting the press of their lips and the taste of each other chase away the pain and the hurt and the worry.
Soon she was sighing into his mouth, her hands tangling in his hair as she shifted as close as she could get to fit her body against his. When the kiss broke they stayed close, noses brushing together, looking into each other's eyes for a long, drawn out moment. He tried to tell her with his eyes all the things he always had trouble putting into words; how much he cared for her, how important she was to him, how sorry he was to have hurt her… and, of course, how much he loved her with all his cracked and fragile heart.
There were so many times he wished he was capable of putting it all out there in words, not only eloquently but frequently, whenever he wanted to. But he couldn't. It wasn't who he was, still, even if he was trying to get better, trying to get stronger. That was the thing about Beth though, she never needed him to be eloquent, she never needed him to put it into words. Her eyes held his and that loving, perfect smile crossed her lips again as she murmured, "I know. Me too."
His lips found hers once more and this time it was a far more passionate, deeper kiss. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and Daryl groaned as his hands clutched harder at her back, holding her close as if desperate to not lose the warmth of her body and the nearness of Beth. There was just a hint of a frantic edge to their kissing, reminiscent of a few days ago when he'd almost lost her in another way and the drive to remind himself that they were both still alive had him pressing her down into the ground and fusing their bodies together.
This time instead of him pressing her down onto the grass it was Beth whose hands found his chest and slowly pressed him back. She leaned over him, her hair spilling around them in a golden curtain as her lips eased over his and her tongue teased alongside his own. He felt her hands brushing slowly over his chest but even more he felt her hips slowly rolling down into his until the heat of her there became so very, very noticeable.
"Beth…" Her name was reverent on Daryl's lips because he wanted to revere her, to praise every beautiful inch of her. She was in control and he had no desire to take that away from her ever, but especially right now. Their want and need for each other was almost constant on a normal basis, and after the brief rift that had formed between them this afternoon, their desperate need to be close again only fueled that want even more. Soon he was aching, straining against his jeans as he felt her grinding down against him in a slow rhythm.
He would have said 'please', would have pleaded with her like he almost never did with anyone, but he didn't need to. Beth was right there with him, reaching between them to undo the button on his jeans and drag down the zipper. Her fingers shifted, slipping into his pocket where she knew he had the square of foil she needed (just as he knew she had one, too, kept safe in the back pocket of her jeans, just in case). Beth pressed it into his hands and then shifted back so she could undo her jeans too, lifting herself up only long enough for him help her push them down over her hips right along with her panties. The moment they were out of the way she was straddling him again, reaching between them to curl her fingers around his length, now encased in the condom she'd given him.
In just an instant, the closeness he felt with her doubled, tripled, expanded beyond measure as she slid down onto his hard length. She was hot and tight and slick around him, and all he could do was clutch her hips and breathe out her name in another awed and reverent moan as she sat up and began to slowly ride him.
There she was again, that goddess above him, so beautiful that it almost hurt to look at her and yet it was impossible to look away at the same time. Her head tipped back, spilling her long hair down her back as the late sunlight gilded the delicate pale curve of her throat. For just one moment she shone in his eyes, radiant; he knew it was the sun lighting on her from above, but he allowed himself just a few seconds to be poetic, to be fanciful, to imagine he'd been allowed to see all that hope and goodness she had inside of her radiating out of her the way he felt it all the time.
Then she looked down, and the goddess faded, though not because she was any less radiant or gorgeous. Because those perfect blue eyes looked into his eyes and saw him, and loved him, and wanted him, and every inch of her was just Beth. His Beth; though he'd never thought himself worthy enough in the past to belong to her, let alone the other way around. He knew he did. He knew they belonged together.
Beth lifted her hips and sank back down and soon he was moving with her, his hips pressing up to meet her slow, perfect rhythm. They moved perfectly together, arching and thrusting, and he was riveted to the sight of her above him, pleasure and love etched across her face. Her whole body swayed to the rhythm of her hips as she took him into her again and again and again until both of them were gasping and biting back moans, doing their best not to be too loud even though he knew she must have wanted to cry out as much as he did as they made love there on the forest floor.
When it was too much, he pulled her to him just she began to lean back down. Their lips met in a deep kiss as they breathed their moans into each other's mouths, sharing them in the most intimate way possible as their bodies moved as one. And then she went tumbled over the edge and Daryl was swallowing her cries, too, muffling them against his lips as she tensed above him and dissolved into shivers, pulsing and throbbing around him as she came undone. One thrust, two, and he was joining her, spilling into the condom as his fingers dug into her hips and his groans of pleasure mingled with their kiss to get lost between their lips.
After, once he'd pulled off the condom and tied it off, and they'd both done their clothes back up, Beth ended up back in his lap again, curled against his chest as he held her close. The sun was setting above them, sending the golden light of dimming day filtering through the trees to dapple the grassy floor around them. He knew, logically, that they would need to go back to camp soon. He knew it wasn't safe to stay here once the sun started to set, away from the people on watch and the traps they'd set up to give them warning. He knew that despite the rarity of walkers in these woods, one could still stumble onto them at any moment. It had been risky enough making love out here, though there was no way he would have told her to stop.
But he didn't want to move. He didn't want to get up from this spot and lose the feeling of her in his lap and cradled in his arms. He didn't want to lose the feeling of her breath ghosting across his lips, her nose brushing against his, her fingers dancing lightly over his scalp and twining through his hair.
There were times when he loved the way she saw and thought so differently from him, when her mind went on an entirely separate path and came to a conclusion he never would have thought of. But there were just as many times he was glad that she could think exactly the same as he did; like right now, when she nuzzled her nose against his and murmured, "Can we stay here just a little bit longer?"
"Of course." Daryl murmured out the words easily, but a few moments later something else slipped out of lips in a rough voice that was as close to 'plaintive' as a man like him could get. "So you… ain't mad at me no more?"
"Daryl." Beth tilted her head to brush her lips over his. While one of her hands stayed curled into his hair the other shifted to cup his face so her thumb could brush over his stubbled cheek as she went on, "I was never mad at you. Hurt, yeah, but never mad. I don't think you could- no,would- ever do anything that would actually make me mad, Daryl."
There was a part of him still filled with guilt and he knew in some part of his mind that what he felt at the idea of having hurt her was all tied up in his past, in the way his father had hurt his mother day after day until every glint of life and light had been beaten out of her. With his eyes half shut, Daryl brushed his lips over Beth's, savoring the warmth of her lips and the taste of her there before he breathed out, "Hate knowin' I hurt you. I promised myself I'd never, ever…"
"I know. I know, Daryl…" She whispered the words against his lips as if trying to chase the thoughts away, but he didn't know if it was enough. He still wanted to beg for forgiveness, to find some way to make it up to her, but he didn't know how or if she'd even let him. "Daryl we're okay," she whispered reassuringly against his lips in between soft, sweet kisses that punctuated her words. "I still trust you, and I know that you would never, ever hurt me on purpose. I won't tell you to forget about it or to not feel guilty because that's not fair but don't let it weigh you down, okay? You're a good man, a good partner." Her lips brushed over his cheek to his ear, feather-light against that curved shell as she whispered, "You're not your father. You're my Daryl and I've never met a better man than you."
When she drew back to look into his eyes he saw a spark deep in that blue gaze, one that matched the smile on her lips as she added, "And don't you try and argue that with me, alright? Because that would be bullshit too, and you know I won't hesitate to tell you."
Daryl chuckled, he couldn't help it. He chuckled, and that last bit of worry and tension eased out of him as he looked up at her and brushed a stray bit of hair from her face to tuck it behind her ear. "Sometimes I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm glad for whatever it was."
"I know what you did." Beth smiled and kissed his forehead. "You were born. That's it. That's all you ever had to do. It isn't about deserving, Daryl, it's just about what's right. We're right, and that's what matters."
Beth was doing it again. That thing where she cut right to the heart of the matter and laid it open so simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world to find something so good and right. And it felt like it was obvious, when she pointed it out to him. It felt like nothing in the world had ever been as obvious as her and him.
So Daryl leaned in to close the gap between them and kissed her, slow but deep, letting the kiss linger until both of them were breathless and had to pull away just to fill their lungs. They stayed there like that, wrapped up in each other until the encroaching darkness and the need for safety within it won out, but even when they finally gave in and made their way back to camp, Daryl kept her in the circle of his arms. For now at least, he didn't care if anyone saw them being affectionate together. It just felt… right.
**A/N: This was a very self-contained chapter, but it was necessary! I promise the story will start picking up again soon, but they needed to have some time to address this and Daryl's issues so they could keep moving ahead. The next update should hopefully be within a few days.