Warning: This is not beta'ed, read at your own risk for I am dyslexic as fuck.
Author Note: After a decade of telling myself I would not write a Walking Dead fic, that I'd just quietly read y'all wonderful works in the background. I have recently started rewatching the show with my 13-year-old. And well here we are, and I couldn't turn this one on off. A combination of things I have been looking for but unable to find and decided, to hell with it. Just write.
Chapter One
A quiet sigh escaped Beth's lips as she dragged her big toe across the top of the water. The sky was a soft blue, not a single fluffy white cloud in sight. The air was warmer than it had been in weeks. But the icy lake water was still frigid from the cold nights that spring had yet to thaw.
She kicked her foot. Enjoying the splash of water, watching it ripple out in smooth waves until it went still once more. Her stomach twisted with hunger, she reached for her fishing rod and set to baiting the line. A simple flick of the wrist had her line casting into the water, she rolled her neck, hoping for a quick catch or two to fill their bellies.
When the world first started to fall. Everything was loud, too loud. The wail of sirens. The screams of the dying, the pops of gunfire, and the low hungry groans of the undead, the infected.
Jimmy and her, they had left her dorm room in the middle of the night, when the roads were quiet. By some miracle they were able to rush back to Senoia without incident, taking back roads forgotten by most city goers.
She had watched her brother change, remembered him tearing into her Mama. The way she had screamed. She remembered the doubt that filled her as her father sealed them in the barn, certain a cure was coming.
Then things had settled, and for a pause it was like nothing had changed. The world seemed to have gone still as they hunkered down on her Daddy's farm. She knew they were a few of the lucky ones, her father had become somewhat of a doomsday prepper in his later years. He had claimed it gave something positive to focus on.
"Catch anythin'?" The rough voice broke her out of her musing.
She nodded; eyes focused on the water. "Just one. He still sleeping?" She nearly winced at how raspy the words fall out of her mouth.
"Ya. Thought we'd let him."
She nodded in agreement, jerking the line and reeling in another bass. Her nose crinkles, "damn." She swore, her lips curled as she heard the faint huff of Daryl's amusement.
The sound soothes something deep inside of her. If they could still find laughter after everything, then she could hold onto the hope that everything would be okay.
Daryl leaned back against the trunk of the tree, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Not too bad for early morning," he said, watching her maneuver the bass off the hook with practiced ease. His gaze drifted back to the shimmering lake, reflecting the morning sun.
He was sore but they were alive. His eyes lingered on her bruises. The disgust on her face as she added the bass to her bucket.
"Could be worse – could be eel," he teased, nodding towards her fish. "Least we're not goin' hungry." He gave her an appreciative nod.
He wasn't sure when it had happened when he started seeing her as capable, dependable, strong. He watched her for a moment, the way the breeze tugged at her hair, the determined set of her jaw – her eyes active – alert, scanning the water then the perimeter before going back to the water.
He sighed; the sound almost lost in the wind. "We should head back, wake Carl," Daryl suggested, tilting his head towards the direction of their makeshift camp. His voice softened, a rare hint of concern threading through. "Make sure he's alright."
His eyes flashed to her throat and the bruises that had blossomed overnight.
She nodded, beginning to gather their gear. "Yeah, let's." Her voice was stronger now, the rasp less pronounced. The corner of her mouth quirked up in a slight smile. "I'll fry these up for breakfast."
Daryl stood, stretching his limbs. "The weather's warmer – we should…" he trailed off, unsure if he should continue his thought. Yet her blue eyes meet his, all he found in them was understanding.
"We should – they spoke of a group – with walls." There's fear in her voice – it makes his stomach turn. He almost hadn't been fast enough, but together they had survived. Her eyes flickered towards the hills, where they'd had encountered the group of men the day before.
Carl stretched awake, accepting the plate with a quiet thank you. The cut on his cheek hurt her.
Her eyes flickered over to Daryl; his jaw tightened every time his gaze landed on their injuries. She almost rolled her eyes; he was all one big bruise. She had straddled his waist as he bit down on a rag. She remembered his grunts and hisses as she stitched his graze wound closed.
Carl licked his finger clean. "What are we doing?" He frowned, watching as Beth passed Daryl his sleeping bag.
"Packing up. It's warmer. Time to start lookin'." Daryl explained, watching as Carl's eyes brightened with understanding. Beth blew out a breath, letting herself for just a moment cling to Carl's hope.
They were quiet as they loaded up the old Ford Daryl had spent a good part of the winter working on. She couldn't recall how many trips they had made into the suburbs of LaGrange to scavenge for parts and supplies.
Carl leaned against her side as they bumped down the dirt road towards the highway. Beth turned her gaze to the tree line, her mind lost in the last few months.
Fort Benning had been a bust – overrun with the infected. No sign of their loved ones. Sometimes she can still feel Carl's warm tears on her legs as he cried as Daryl drove away from the army base. The weeks they had searched.
Without any other direction they returned to the farm, most of it gone from the fire and the horde, yet the house stood untouched.
They stayed for two weeks. No one spoke of their hope that maybe – just maybe someone would come back looking. While they waited, they gathered what was deemed necessary, warm clothes, food, gear. Beth took a photo album, her mom's ring, and her father's spare watch.
They wandered until they had stumbled across the cabin, bone cold and half starved.
"Beth look," Carl had nudged her, an excited grin on his face as Daryl pulled into the CVS parking lot.
They had spent the morning scavenging the parking lot and store. Filling gas containers, collecting cans of left behind food. More vigilant than they had been in a while, the men from yesterday a haunting reminder.
Carl jumped as Daryl settled next to him, "sorry." He grunted, chewing the edge of his thumb as he watched Beth warm the can of beans over the small fire, she made in the tin trash bin.
Carl nodded, giving him a sheepish grin as he held out his water jug. Daryl turned his gaze to the truck that was now stocked with a few gas cans, and a variety of canned goods. "Think we're ready – which way we headed?" Daryl broke the silence, his eyes flickering between the boy and the girl.
Beth licked her lips, "I was thinking... maybe its naïve, but" she pulled out a map and rolled it out between them, "if they're alive – that they are probably still near Senoia, most likely west or southwest of there. They wouldn't have gone north near Atlanta – we saw no sign of anyone at Fort Benning."
Carl nodded along, "and winter would've slowed them down – just like us – and they'd probably move slower because there is more of them."
"Wouldn't have gone east or southeast because of the horde path," Daryl agreed, his eyes sweeping over the map. "Let's try and get up past Greenville before night fall – put a few more miles between us and whoever those men were with. It'll be slow going – since we're off roading it."
Beth nodded, standing, and wiping her dirty hands on her jeans. Her eyes swept over the CVS they had rummaged through. She tossed her empty can towards a nearby garbage can. Her mouth twisted into a small frown when it hit the ground. Daryl's mouth crinkled with amusement at the guilt that still crossed her face at doing something as trivial as littering.
She rolled her eyes at him, climbing into the truck after Carl.
A yawn silenced her humming, she turned her gaze to Carl. "Sleep," Beth whispered, plucking the comic from his hands.
"Hey, I was reading that." He complained, stretching.
Daryl grunted, "it's dark shouldn' be reading, hurt your eyes or some shit."
She twirled her mother's ring around her finger, letting out a rush of air. Her eyes caught his. She nodded, her fingers running through Carl's hair. The moonlight guiding their slow move north.
"Think my dad will be mad at me?" Carl broke the quiet, looking between them. "I killed that guy. He was," his eyes cut away from Beth as his cheeks reddened. Beth swallowed against the pain, remembering the hand that had been wrapped around her throat as he pinned her to the bank of the river.
"Nah." Daryl scoffed. "You need to remember – this world is full of two kinds of evil now," his eyes turned to the few walkers ambling aimlessly around the cars. "The walkers and bad fuckin' people. Those men were bad fuckin' people."
Beth nodded, shivering, "but they'd both be real proud of y'all. Your survivors – the pair of ya. I haven't been teachin' ya all I know for the fun of it."
Carl nodded, curling back into Beth's side until he let out a loud yawn and crawled into the backseat.
Daryl kept driving, slow – steady, she couldn't help but wonder if they'd be quicker on feet. But the truck offered a margin of security. She knew they'd stick with it until it broke down or they ran out of gas.
"I'll keep watch." Beth said when Daryl finally pulled the truck up onto the road and blended the truck in with a group of abandoned cars, their vehicle wouldn't stand out if anyone happened to stumble across them. "Don't give me that look. I slept most of the evening. I'll wake you if I so much as get spooked."
Daryl grunted, "I gotta piss."
She rolled her eyes and turned her eyes to the road. She didn't speak when he re-joined them in the car, smelling of smoke. He leaned the driver seat all the way back and tossed his arm over his eyes. Carl soft snores filled the quiet cab as he slept in the backseat.
"Think we'll find them?" Daryl broke the quiet, not bothering to uncover his eyes.
Beth shrugged, her gaze cutting up to the stars above. "I know they're alive - at least some of them."
"Might all be dead." He scoffed, but his voice was lower and without its usual roughness.
She sighed, "and we might not find them but we've gotta try."
The silence settled back over them like a blanket. Beth tapped the gun in her lap as she waited for the sun to rise.