The Accidental Christmas Chapter 7, a walking dead fanfic

A/N Thank you everyone! Well darn Daryl, now what? Let's check in...

Daryl gets an abrupt awakening when he rolls off the couch at 4am and his shoulder slams into the coffee table. He cusses loudly at the table and at his shoulder, then cringes as he realizes the sound of his own voice yelling is intensifying the pounding in his head.

His mouth feels like someone stuffed it with cotton, and not just any cotton. Some sort of very foul-tasting cotton. It takes him a minute to orient himself, what the hell happened here?

Oh shit yeah, that's right. Fuck.

He braces himself, one hand flat on the couch, the other flat on the big coffee table. He needs that stability to get to his feet. As soon as he does his stomach lurches and then takes a complete 360 spin and he rushes to the bathroom, getting there just in time. He falls to his knees in front of the toilet, pukes and cusses himself, then pukes and cusses more. Weak and feeling like shit he mumbles to himself, "You dumbass muther fucker," and pukes one last time.

He's pretty sure he's done with that part of his morning and makes it down the hall to his bathroom where he strips out of his clothes. He's seriously considering just burning them, but for now he stuffs them in the hamper.

He reaches in the medicine cabinet and grabs the bottle of aspirin, pours out four tablets and pops them in his mouth, then cups his hands under the faucet and washes them down with the cold water. Damn that's good. He didn't realize how thirsty he is. Of course you are dumbass, you dehydrated yourself. He forgets using his hands and just holds his open mouth under the tap.

He'd like to take a long hot shower, but right now he doesn't think that will do him as much good as a cold one will.

He stands under the icy water, freezing his ass off and cussing, but Daryl's not angry with himself for walking out on Beth. No, not at all. Even though he knows it's his own actions that made him such a miserable son of bitch, he's sure he did the best thing he could have done for her.

Beth might think she has feelings for him, but that's just a temporary thing. He's seen it plenty of times at the bar. Some sweet young chick gets all fascinated by some grungy biker, gets a little crazy for a while, and then goes back to where she belongs. These things never last long.

So, Beth's got a little crush on him. She's also got lots of gratitude because he took care of her, and people confuse that shit with love all the time. She's getting all those things mixed up with real feelings.

She'll see, as time goes on, she'll realize hooking up with him for the long term would have been a huge mistake. She'll have a much happier life with some accountant from that firm where she works, or maybe a farmer, shit, a doctor or a lawyer or a schoolteacher. Anyone but him. He's nothing but under-educated biker trash, and it wouldn't be long before she'd end up hating him. Better she hates him now.

Yeah, she'll be a lot happier.

Him? He'll be a miserable son of a bitch for the rest of his life.

Fuck him.

Beth lays on the tiny couch clutching the floral coverlet and crying for at least an hour, then gets up and runs herself a nice hot bubble bath. A bubble bath always makes things better, and she slowly eases herself into the toasty water.

The problem with soaking in the tub is there is entirely too much time to think, and Beth is thinking a lot. What happened? What went wrong? Did I say something that hurt him? Did he hate my singing that much? That thought actually makes her giggle, but then she's immediately caught up in sadness and questions again. Maybe she's not pretty enough? Not sexy enough? She's definitely not experienced enough. Then she's angry with herself, quit thinking like that Beth. For gosh sake, it's not you, it's him. He's the one who can't seem to make up his mind what the heck he wants. Well goodbye Daryl Dixon, I don't need you.

That sounds good, but why doesn't she quite believe it? Why can't she stop crying?

Eventually the water turns chilly and she climbs from the tub with a shiver, goosebumps covering her pale white skin as she hurries to dry herself off. She uses the medicine Daryl insisted she take with her, slathering it on her knees and notices they really do look much better. She feels a pang in her heart as she thinks about how careful he was when he took care of them earlier. She's grateful to him for that, but otherwise she's so angry she'd like to punch him in the face. Oh my gawd Beth, let's not resort to violence. Just keep telling yourself, he's gone and its good riddance.

She puts on her jammies and crawls in bed, then reaches over and turns the radio to that easy listening channel. They always play a lot of oldies at night, she likes that. She curls up under the covers and gosh, every song seems to be a sad one about love gone wrong. But she doesn't change the station, she just cries herself to sleep.

In the morning she doesn't recall any dreams she may have had, but she knows she had a very fitful night of tossing and turning because her bed is a disaster. It takes her twice as long as usual to make it, and when she sees herself in the mirror she can't help but laugh, my goodness, what the heck happened to her hair? She must have been having some wild dreams. It's going to take a while to get this hair looking decent, but there's probably nothing that will help her eyes. They're red-rimmed and puffy and she looks like…like she's had her heart broken.

Why can't she stop thinking about him? Darn you, Daryl.

She needs to do something to make herself feel better, an idea pops in her head. She decides to wear the new dress and tailored jacket she bought just before Christmas. She had Christmas money from Mama and Daddy burning a hole in her pocket, and the dress was on sale. She just couldn't resist buying it for herself. She had planned to save it to wear on a special occasion, but if getting your heart broken doesn't qualify as some sort of an occasion, then what does?

She puts her hair in a fun and casual updo then checks her look in the mirror. She actually smiles, "Eat your heart out Mister Dixon." She wishes she felt as self-assured as she sounds. She tells herself again, you are just not his type, and my gosh, this outfit is the last thing he would find attractive. If she wanted to catch his eye she'd need a black leather bustier like the women at Dirty Dixon's wear. She can't even imagine having the nerve to go out in public in something so tight and skimpy.

She isn't biker chick material and she never will be. Daryl realized that before she did.

Daryl's showered up, toweled off, teeth brushed, it appears he's ready for the day, but when he leaves the bathroom he can't walk passed the bed. He's sick, his head's throbbing, he's dizzy, and he feels something he's not used to feeling. He's sad. Really sad.

He crawls in the bed, lying on his back with an arm thrown across his face and covering his eyes, and the events of the night before begin to play over and over in his head. He's aware he could have handled the situation a lot better. Shit, the whole idea of breaking it off with her now was so he wouldn't break her heart later. Yeah, well, dumbass, you did a fine job of breaking her heart right now, and then you didn't even hang around long enough to give her a chance to chew your ass out. She deserved that at least, you chickenshit.

He would have stayed and let her have her say, if not for the fact he knew he'd cave in. If he'd have hung around long enough for her to plead, "Please Daryl, don't go, let's talk about this," he would have stayed right there with her. He's shocked when he feels tears stinging his eyes and tries to convince himself it's a side effect of all the alcohol he consumed, but in his heart he knows the truth.

Fuck this.

Jerry's working days this week and Daryl's shift doesn't start until five, so he's in no rush to get to the bar. Instead, he pulls the covers up over his head and grabs another couple hours of sleep. When he does force himself to get out of the sack, he takes another shower, but this one is much warmer than the first. He brushes his teeth for the longest time, but it doesn't matter how long or how hard he scrubs, that nasty taste won't go away.

He makes coffee, thinks about eggs and bacon, but he's not sure his stomach can take it so he settles for dry toast. "Good job dumbass. Ya fucked up your chance to be with a good woman, then ya fucked yourself up. Whaddya got plans ta fuck up next?"

He takes the big mug of coffee in his office and gets busy with the books. The year has ended, might as well start getting ready for tax season. He won't get all the work done, but that's not the goal, shit, he's got an accountant for that. His goal is simply to get an accurate overview of the year and how Dirty Dixon's did.

Two hours later he's all smiles. Shit, he's had the bar five years and this is the fifth straight year receipts are up. This is it then, the year he'll make those changes he's thought about making since he bought the joint. His smile fades when he realizes, he has no one to share that good news with. If he hadn't done what he did last night, Daryl would be calling Jerry right now and asking him to work an extra couple hours while he drove up to Smithton and took Beth out for a little celebration dinner. Over dinner he'd explain his big dream to her. Who knows? Maybe it could have become their big dream.

Yeah, whatever. Fuck him.

Maybe a ride, yeah, a ride always helps. He gets himself ready, gets on the bike and he's out of there. The wind in his face feels good, and the power and noise of the bike always add to the thrill of the ride.

He has no particular place in mind to ride, but he sure as hell didn't intend to wind up in Smithton. How the fuck did that happen?

Obviously he's not thinking clearly when he slows down at the city limits and decides, oh what the hell, why not? He'll take a spin through town. He takes it real slow around the town circle, there are lots of pedestrians out and about. He spots it up ahead, right at the end of the block. It's the place Beth said she works, Peabody & Schmidt Accounting Firm.

It's a cool old two-story brick building and right across the street from it is a park bench, and on that park bench is a pretty blonde woman, damn Beth looks cute in that flowered dress and black jacket, and look at that hair. She's a beauty all right.

She's got one of those cups in her hand from some fancy coffee joint. It has a domed lid and he sure it's one of those fluff drinks that doesn't have anything to do with a cup of coffee. Hell, she doesn't even like coffee.

It doesn't really matter what it is, she looks awfully cute sipping on it and smiling, but who the fuck is the guy she's smiling at? Shit, it didn't take her long to find someone new, and with that thought Daryl hits the throttle hard, speeds out of the circle and back where he came from.

Fuck him.

Beth's eyes follow the noise and her mouth drops open when she sees who just rode off, oh my gawd, what's he doing? Spying on her?

She tries not to think about it and attempts not to let on to the man she's sitting with that there's anything wrong. The two of them are not together, not romantically, the man just sat down two minutes before Daryl drove by. Spencer Monroe is her boss, and when he saw her sitting there he came over to say hello.

What's she supposed to do, tell the boss to get away and leave her alone? No, another guy maybe, not the boss. Oh sure, everyone realizes he's only the boss because of the power and influence his parents have, but Beth never mentions a word about that to anyone or engages in any office gossip about him or any of the Monroes. She likes her job and she needs the work.

She needs to get back to it, and she stands and takes the short walk to her office. Beth's mind is consumed with Daryl. Even if he decided to ride his motorcycle to Smithton for some reason that has nothing to do with her, what are the odds he'd drive by the circle during her afternoon break? If she had been sitting there alone, would he have stopped and sat with her for a while?

Oh Beth, stop. He's made his feelings, or lack of feelings, very clear.

What the fuck did he just do? Shit, maybe she didn't see him. Yeah, fat chance of that. And the guy, yeah, that guy, just the type he'd picture her with. Slick hair, expensive suit, the whole nine yards. Yeah, they're a good match. It's good, all good he tells himself. Now he doesn't have to worry about her anymore, he can get on with his own life.

He can't wait.

He can tell himself that shit all day long, but apparently, he can't feel it.

He's got an hour and a half before his shift, but he doesn't bother to go home. For once in his life, he doesn't feel like being in an empty house, alone. That doesn't necessarily translate to him being happy to be with other people though. He walks in the back door and it's obvious, he's in a mood. The first thing he does is half trip over someone's dropped pack of smokes.

It's not exactly a major criminal incident, and he barely had to move to the side to miss the pack, but man, you would think it was the worst fucking thing that ever happened at Dirty Dixon's. He tosses the cigarettes toward a table, they land like they're supposed to, and he growls, "Fuck people, what the hell?" They ignore him, pretty sure the worst thing they could do is respond in any way.

He takes long pigeon-toed strides towards the bar and just gets behind it when he asks Jerry, "So what's going on?"

It's a workday, it's four in the afternoon and the place is quiet, just like you'd expect. Jerry doesn't say that though, "About like you'd expect boss man. But hey, I brought some cobbler, it's real good and I'm sharing. It's back on the table in the stock room, go on and have a piece."

Daryl isn't cheered up, his mood isn't altered in any way, but he also has a real hard time ever growling at Jerry, so he manages to be civil, even polite, "Yeah, thanks man, maybe later."

He starts restocking the coolers, that's Jerry's job at the end of his shift, but hey, if boss man wants to do it, let him. That means Jerry can get out of here and home to his family quicker. Man though, Daryl sure is banging and clanging those bottles and cans around a lot. Jerry's surprised he hasn't broken a bottle or two, and shit, the customers are going to be drinking some foamy beer later if Daryl doesn't calm down, but then, Jerry's not telling him that.

The big barman is relieved when Abe and Rosita walk in about 4:30. Rosita takes one look at Daryl, looks at Jerry and Jerry gives her an almost imperceptible nod of the head. Daryl's in a mood. It doesn't take Rosita three minutes to decide it's got to be Beth. What else could it be? And shoot, they were so happy and cozy on New Year's Eve, what the hell went wrong? Shit, and she liked Beth.

One thing about Rosita, she's not scared to ruffle a man's feathers, just ask Abraham. So, the spunky waitress walks around the bar, walks right up to Daryl, and he harshly questions, "Yeah, what?"

Rosita doesn't back down, she asks, "Did something happen between you and Beth, like a fight or something?"

Daryl's face contorts into full anger, but he doesn't yell. He won't yell at a woman, it's more like a growl when he states, "Whatever goes on between me and Beth ain't no one's fuckin' business but hers n mine."

Rosita just nods, "Okay, that's what I thought."

The after work crowd gets the bar going and the place is busy for the next couple of hours. That's good. Daryl works through his sour mood, reminding himself this is his place of business and he can't be a shithead at work just because he's going through personal stuff.

Beth scolds herself, she calls herself names, she's embarrassed that she would even think about doing this, but none of that stops her. The next day on her afternoon break, Beth is sitting on the bench across from work, waiting and hoping a certain rider will come by, and she nearly breaks down in tears when he doesn't.

She does the same thing the following day, and the same thing happens, the rider does not come by, and she has to fight tears. However, she does have a visitor at home that evening.

The knock comes about six thirty and Beth feels the instant knot in her tummy, could it be Daryl? She smooths her skirt, smooths her hair and opens the door to see Amy standing there with a big brown shopping bag, "I brought ice cream and cookies so we can talk."

Beth instantly feels tears, she hugs her friend, grocery bag and all, and the tears come harder and faster, "I'm sorry, I wanted to talk to you but I've just been, I don't know Amy, just a mess." Then she looks at her friend and asks, "How did you know?" Then catches herself, "Come in, come in. The neighbors don't need to hear."

They head straight to the kitchen and while Amy's dishing up rocky road she's telling the story. "Merle had to tow a vehicle today, it was stalled close to the roadhouse, so, before he towed it, he drove to Daryl's place just to say hi. He said he could tell right away, you know, just by how Daryl looked and was acting, that he was having a hard time about something. Merle finally got him to spill the beans about breaking it off with you, and not in a very nice way."

"When Merle came to my house after work tonight and told me all that, I told him I was sorry but I couldn't go to dinner with him like we'd planned, that I had to come see you. He drove me up here, and he's over at the diner having dinner right now. He was starving."

Before Beth can address any other issue she has to ask, "So, you and Merle are…are what?"

"Me and Merle are pretty darn serious. We've been seeing each other every day, and Beth, he's just been great. Well, like tonight. Driving me here, stopping at the store and getting the treats, and going to dinner by himself so you and I could have time to talk."

Beth smiles, "That is really sweet. I'm so happy for you Amy."

"Okay, well enough about me and Merle. Let's sit on the couch, stuff our faces and you tell me your side of the story."

There are tears, trembling shoulders, way too much ice cream and cookies are eaten, and eventually Beth gets the story told. Then Amy tells her everything Daryl said, including, "I'm the world's biggest dumbass Merle. Beth was the best thing that ever happened to me, but shit, I couldn't let her settle for me, she deserves so much better."

Beth's forehead wrinkles and she agrees, "He is a dumbass," and both women giggle.

Then Beth looks at her friend and asks, "Okay, so what am I supposed to do now?"

"I don't know honey. I guess just take some time to think it all over and decide what you really want."

About a half hour later Merle comes to the door and Beth invites him in, "Did you ladies get all your goodies ate?"

Amy smiles, "Almost, and gosh, my tummy hurts."

Beth giggles, "Mine too."

"Y'all shoulda come had a chicken fried steak with me, they make em pretty good over there at Dell's Diner." Then his smile grows wider, "You can talk about anythin' in front a me, even what a dumbass my little brother is."

They all have a chuckle over that, and then Amy and Merle stand to go and Amy says, "I hate to leave you feeling sad."

"No Amy, really, I'm much better now. I appreciate the visit and the talk, and Merle, thank you for bringing Amy by. I owe you a chicken fried steak dinner. I bet mine's better than Dell's."

"Oh yeah? Well I'ma hold ya to that promise little lady."

Beth is sad to see them go, on the other hand, she feels much better than she did before they came.

She cleans up the dishes, then takes a warm bath, puts on her jammies and curls up on the couch. She's only got about 15 minutes to read before bedtime. She's just one page in when she hears the unmistakable sound, and then it cuts off.

Beth sets the book down and slowly starts to stand, and there's a knock at the door. She walks to it, presses her ear next to it and asks, "Who is it?"

"Let me in Baby, please."

A/N Well, well. Please leave a comment and let me know what you think. The chapter photo is on my tumblr blogs, gneebee and bethylmethbrick, please have a look. I'll be back next week with more of The Accidental Christmas, and I hope you'll be back too. Until then remember, I love ya large, xo gneebee