A/N Thanks so much! Beth had quite the story, and although it was very hard to believe, I think Daryl senses it may be true.
Let's see what happens next.
Truth
They finally finish all the butchering, prepping, cooking and canning about 6:30, and even though he made her go back to the cabin and nap for an hour, they're both completely exhausted when they finally sit down to eat a bowl of stew and some of the brown bread.
All day he's been working things over in his mind, trying to come up with a solid plan. What if what she told him is the truth? What the hell is he going to do? And what the hell is she going to do? If it's as bad as Beth says it is down there in the world, and if she's got no people to go to, would he really be able to just leave her in some apartment right in the middle of that kind of shit? Then what? Wave goodbye and come back up here far away from it all. And what happens to her? She gets eaten by some dead person, or some live person does something even worse to her? Fuck.
He swallows a hefty spoonful of stew, and seemingly out of nowhere questions, "Do ya know how ta drive a standard transmission?"
She smiles at him, "I know how to drive just about anything Daryl, I grew up on a farm, remember?"
An image of her driving a tractor across a wheat field suddenly pops in his mind, and he's not at all anxious to shake it off, "Just checkin'."
In the meantime Beth's head is spinning with frightening thoughts and even scarier images. Please God, no. She doesn't want him to take her back to her apartment, and she darn sure doesn't want him to leave her there alone. She's deathly afraid of how much worse things may have gotten since she started on her hike. The small city must be crawling with dead people by now. Please. No.
That's not all of it. Fear isn't the only thing that's making her dread leaving this place. She's tried so hard to fight these feelings she's been having, but no matter how many times she tells herself she's being ridiculous, and there's no way her and Daryl could, or would, or should, ever live together, she can't let the idea go. She doesn't want to leave. Gosh, everything up here on this mountain seems so perfect. She was raised in the country, but this is way beyond just being in the country. This is so remote they may as well be on another planet, and she's already grown to love this cozy little cabin.
She feels so safe and protected with the sometimes rough, gruff and ornery man. Honestly? There's a lot more to it than even that. The truth is she can't seem to help feeling whatever this is she's feeling for him. It seems a lot stronger than just friendship.
Besides, with the way things are in the world, why in the heck would she want to be anywhere else but here? Why would she want to go back to her apartment? What? So, she can sit there alone and afraid, eating ramen and granola bars until some undead monster breaks in and she dies a gruesome death?
She wants to tell him the truth. She wants to let Daryl know how she really feels about going home. What would his reaction be if she were to just get honest with him? He'd probably tell her she's crazy and that the last thing he needs is some woman hanging around his place full-time.
He's about polished off his first big bowl of stew and he's ready for another, "This is good grub Beth, one bowl ain't enough."
"I'm glad you like it." He walks to the woodstove to scoop up another ladle-full from the heavy pot, and when he returns to the table she suggests, "I was thinking about something Daryl. If you're going to grow all your own foods and stuff, you should maybe think about having an herb garden too. It wouldn't be much work. You could have some small pots on your kitchen windowsill and grow the basics, like basil, sage, thyme, rosemary, they should all do just fine. I'm not sure you get enough sun to grow them in the winter, but you could in late spring and summer. Whatever you're not able to use when it's fresh, you can dry and keep in your cellar to use later."
"I hadn't thought about nuthin' like that. Ya think it would work though?"
"Oh yes, I'm pretty sure, and if we really wanted to get crazy, we could try growing dwarf lemon and lime plants in that far window." Oh shoot, did she just say "we"? She sure did, and she saw his eyebrows raise when she said it. How funny that they both pretend it never happened.
"That'd be cool, havin' fresh lemon ta squeeze on my fish."
She's still pink cheeked from her slip, but she smiles, "And maybe even a glass of lemonade or limeade."
It'd be cool and all, but right now his mind is busy worrying and wondering about something else, and he asks, "Ya know how ta shoot a pistol?"
She laughs softly, "No, I've never shot a pistol. I haven't shot any kind of gun in years, and I was never a deadeye marksman, that's for sure. I've shot a .22 and I even had my own pellet gun when I lived on the farm. In fact, now that I think about it, I still have it. It's at my place in the closet of the spare room."
She shakes her head, "Mostly Daddy had us carry some kind of firearm when we worked in the fields, just in case we came across a varmint that might hurt us." She looks a little embarrassed when she says, "I went deer hunting with my Daddy and his friend Otis once, and I shot my Dad's old Henry .30 .30. That thing had a little too much kick, it knocked me right on my backside."
He asked her one simple question and she just keeps talking. Why can't she shut up? She knows the answer. She's nervous, full of anxiety.
He's listening to all of it, shit, at least she knows one end of a gun from the other, and he has a solid plan now, "I'ma start first thing in the mornin' on gettin' that access door for the bathroom. After I get a good start on that, I'll take a break and we'll shoot pistols. I want ya ta learn how ta kill something, ya know, in case ya have to."
It sounds so ominous and yet with all she's seen it does seem like a good idea. She'd feel a little better too, knowing she can defend herself, or at least have a reasonable chance to, "Okay, I'd like to learn."
She finishes her last bit of brown bread and for some reason she starts talking again, "Mama had a small root cellar on the farm. The access was a trapdoor in the pantry and I was always so afraid to walk down those stairs. I was so sure there were scary monsters lurking around down there, or whatever. Mama didn't let me off the hook though. She was forever sending me down there for onions or potatoes, apples or something," she finally gets to the part where she tells him what she wants, "I'd like to see your cellar, will you show it to me?"
He's not sure why she'd care to see it, but why not, "Um, yeah, sure, it ain't a secret or nuthin'. As long as ya think you can get down the stairs with that foot, and ya ain't scared of all the monsters I keep down there, then yeah, you can see it." He almost made himself laugh.
What Beth wants to respond is, if I can't walk down, maybe you can carry me. What she does say is, "You're very funny Daryl Dixon, and I'm sure I'll be getting around well enough tomorrow to visit the cellar. Oh, and I'll have that gun you're going to let me use so I can just shoot any monsters I see."
"You got everythin' all figured out, don't ya?"
"Pretty much." Seriously? She doesn't have one darn thing figured out.
They're both exhausted and waste no time cleaning up the dinner mess, well he doesn't let her do more than carry her bowl from the table to the kitchen counter, and he suddenly sounds so stern, "I got this. You go on n check your ankle Nurse Beth, see if them cuts are healed over."
She's already checked her ankle several times today but she doesn't say that, she nods, "Yessir Doctor Dixon, let me just sit down in your chair and have a look."
When he's done with the few dishes he says, "I'ma take what's left of the stew to the cellar. I'm thinking I might have it for breakfast." He likes the way she smiles at stuff like that, "When I get back, I'll walk ya over ta the bathroom, then we should hit the sack."
She dares to ask, "Okay, but um, I'm not crazy about sleeping in my clothes, is it okay if I put your t-shirt on again? It makes a very cozy nightie."
Fuck this shit, the last thing he needs to see is her in his t-shirt again, "Um yeah, um sure, whatever suits ya. I'll be back in a minute."
His timing is perfect, when he walks back in the cabin Beth's ready, and boy, she's a real sight. She's got those boots on, one that he still needs to fix, and they're both untied. She's wearing his t-shirt but you couldn't tell that because she's also wearing his coat and it's so big on her he's a little concerned she might drown in it. He even teases, "Ya really fill that thing out, don't ya?"
"For your information I like it and I'm kind of thinking I might steal it."
"Yeah, whatever."
He waits outside the door while she uses the bathroom, she doesn't take long. As they start back to the house it's Daryl's turn to make a little slip, "It's gonna be much better for both of us when I get that access door built, especially when winter sets in. No more walking outside ta use the bathroom." Shit, what the fuck is wrong with him. Shit.
They walk in the house and after she takes off her boots he offers, "Here, lemme peel that coat off ya." He slips it off her and hangs it on the peg by the front door, turns back around and just like in the shower, the sight he sees leaves no doubt, she's cold. He turns away, but not until he's had an eyeful, then he gets down on one knee in front of the woodstove, "I'ma add a couple logs ta the fire, it's cold out tonight."
"I know, I'm freezing. I'm going to dive under the covers and stay there."
Oh, the things he'd like to say and do about that. instead he simply says, "Yeah, um g'night."
"Goodnight Daryl and thank you for everything today."
"Yeah, u, thanks. That stew was real good."
He shuts the woodstove door, looks at Jack and says, "C'mon boy, time ta make one last trip ta that big outdoor bathroom, and make it snappy. Ya heard Beth, it's cold out there."
Finally, he and Jack lay down in front of the woodstove and except for the glow from the fire, it's pitch-black outside and inside the little cabin. Daryl's arm lays across his forehead, and despite how tired he is, he's not sleeping. His mind is busy with thoughts of the stories she told, and he worries about what the fuck to do. There's something else keeping him awake too, it's the thought of her laying so close to him and the sweet gentle sound of her breathing. Shit.
How the fuck did he let this happen? She's awakened something in him he thought he'd finally managed to kill off. Desire. But this is more than just physical desire, shit, he can take care of that on his own. This is all about her, wanting her. It's Beth.
It's not just because she's pretty either, or because he likes her blonde hair, or those big blue eyes. He likes all of those things just fine, he likes them a lot, but it's something more, something deeper. It's what's inside, the real Beth Greene and the woman she is. She's good and real, and she does something for him that no one else has ever done, she makes him smile.
Fuck him, he tried so hard not to feel the things he's feeling for her, but now that he does, he's got to control himself, he's got to hold back. Shit, if he tried any of that stuff he's been thinking about with Beth she'd probably cut his heart out. Or worse, and he'd deserve it.
She slipped in the bed and under the covers, practically rolling herself up in them for warmth. She knows that soon the fire will have the small cabin all warmed up, but right now she wouldn't mind having Daryl snuggling her to keep her warm. Oh my gawd Beth, quit that. You can't be thinking those kinds of things, you shouldn't be thinking those kinds of things. Besides, it's not like Daryl is looking for a bedmate, he can't wait to get rid of his short-term roommate.
He's up early, and there's no going out and building a big fire to sit around and drink coffee before starting his day. Nope, he's got too much to do before they leave and he's going to get right to it.
He made a quick trip to the root cellar and the pot of stew is now sitting atop the woodstove, along with the coffeepot and a small pot of water heating up for grits.
It's not long before Beth slowly begins to wake, and the first thing she sees is the backside of Daryl with a tool belt around his hips. He's marking the far wall where he plans to cut the access door for the bathroom. Holy cow, how can a tool belt make a man look even sexier? She says, "Good morning Daryl, you're getting an early start."
He looks back over his shoulder at her and says, "Yeah, I wanna try n get this done before we go down the mountain."
"I see, can I ask a question?"
"Yeah, sure, what?"
She's still bundled up in the covers, propped on one elbow with her head in her hand, and that damn blonde hair all over the place. It's a very inviting scene, but he's sure she's not inviting him to do anything. She asks, "If you always planned to be able to access the bathroom from the house, why didn't you cut the doorway in right from the start?"
He keeps his eyes on his work while he answers her question, "By addin' on the whole bathroom before cutting in the access door I didn't get all the construction mess in the cabin, and construction is messy and dusty no matter how many tarps ya lay around. I'd already planned on having the two doors into the bathroom anyway. I thought by havin' the outside one, if I's dirty from huntin' or fishin' or whatever, I could just walk straight in there and shower without trackin' up the cabin."
"Anyway, now that winters' comin' I gotta get this other door built. I got no desire ta run outside in the middle of the night, in the freezing ass cold, ta do my business." Shit, is he going to tell her his whole fuckin' life story next.
What he doesn't tell her is, if he finds out that everything she told him is true, he'll be closing off that outside access door into the bathroom. He's not giving marauders a bunch of extra opportunities to get inside his place.
She tried so hard, but she just has to go, "Well, um, speaking of business Daryl…"
She doesn't have to say more, "Yeah, um okay. Let's see how you're gettin' around on that foot."
As it turns out, she happens to be getting around pretty darn good, but still he insists, "Hang onto my arm ta steady yourself."
Even though she takes time to do some washing up after using the toilet, now that she's getting around so much better the whole bathroom experience doesn't take nearly as long as it did.
Once they're back in the cabin he says, "Okay, sit in my chair and lemme get ya some coffee, whaddya want, stew or grits for breakfast?"
She smiles, "Daryl, you can stop waiting on me now. I'm perfectly capable of serving myself."
Shit, there she goes, all independent and shit. What's got him concerned right now is, if she's hanging around in here while he's working it'll be harder than hell to get anything done. Not just because she's there and he'll be thinking about her watching him work, but she'll do that thing where she starts talking and asking questions, and he stops to listen and then answers, because he can't seem to do a very good job of ignoring her.
He scowls, "Don't start with me lady. I tell ya what, since you're feeling so spry, after ya eat why don't you n Jack go hang out by the lake? I got a lotta good books, pick whatever one ya want and take it with ya, a blanket too."
She bites her lip to keep from laughing, "Yes, well, me and Jack wouldn't want to be in the way. Would we Jack? And that actually sounds kind of wonderful."
"Yeah, it kinda does."
"All right, it's a deal. Let me just enjoy my delicious cup of coffee and some of your wonderful grits first."
"You bein' funny now?"
"No, no, I'm very serious. I hadn't eaten grits since I left home for college, and I've really enjoyed having you cook them for me."
She'd swear she sees his face turn a little pink before he quickly turns away from her and back to his work, gruffly muttering, "Good, now eat up."
After she has her meal, and manages to wash her dishes without him noticing, she walks over to look at the books on his small three shelf bookcase. Let's see, there's one entire shelf devoted to Louis L'amour, and one that's got a little Jack London and a little Zane Grey, and the bottom shelf is all books on hunting, fishing, preserving food, backyard farming, and surviving the wild. Wow, it's quite the literary collection of nothing she would ever read.
She settles on a Jack London novel, The Call of the Wild. As she's folding the quilt to take with her and Jack to the lake, she's thinking that if he ever did bring her back here, she'd have to bring some of her own reading material.
"Okay Daryl, Jack and I are going to get out of your hair now. We'll see you later alligator."
She's goofy, "A'ight, be careful, don't go no further than the lake and don't even think about so much as puttin' a toe in the water."
Yessir Boss! She doesn't say it though, "We'll be careful. Come on Jack. Oh, and Daryl, I'm taking your coat."
Shit, now he's fighting a smile just thinking about how damn cute she looks in that coat, "Yeah, okay, just be careful."
She and Jack only get five feet out the door when she stops, so Jack stops too. She takes in a deep breath and says, "Oh my gosh Jack, isn't this just the most beautiful place you've ever seen?" Then asks the dog, "Want to go to the lake and help me read this book? Yes? You do? Okay then, let's do it."
By the time they walk the two hundred yards or so to the lake she realizes, she doesn't have all of her strength back yet. She's exhausted, "Let's lay this quilt down and then we'll lay ourselves down."
Jack has no idea what they're doing or what she's saying, but as soon as she lays down on the quilt, he lays down next to her. She smiles, "I'm glad I have you here to snuggle with Jack, even with this gigantic coat it's a little chilly out." She cuddles up close to the big dog and begins to read the book.
He got his tarps down and cut the doorway in, hauled out the wood, and when he checks the time it's 11:00am. Okay, that's good, they can spend an hour or so shooting pistols, have a quick bite to eat, then he can get back to work and she can get back to resting.
His pistol is always with him but he's got to get one for her to shoot. He's got a couple that would work for Beth, he's just got to get one out of the root cellar. It's a little too cold to be storing guns down there, but they're safe and it's dry, and the temperature is constant, and even if someone found his cabin they'd never find the root cellar.
He starts to walk that way, then remembers she wanted to see the cellar. He changes course and when he finds her, shit, she makes him smile again. She's laying on her back on the quilt, the open book flat on her tummy, and her head resting on Jack.
Jack looks up at his master and Daryl asks the dog, "So now what? You're her pillow too?" He can't help himself, he stands there just watching her sleep, then scolds himself, "Shit, don't be creepy." He gets down on one knee, gently grasps her shoulder and gives it a little shake, asking, "Hey lady, ya wanna shoot pistols?"
Her eyes slowly open and it takes her a minute to realize where she is and what's going on, "Hi Daryl, yes. I want to do whatever you want to do."
He tries not to think about what that sounds like, "Okay, we're goin' down ta the cellar ta get you a pistol, I mean if ya still wanna see it. You think you can walk down them stairs? Otherwise, I can just go get it."
"No, I'll be fine, and I really do want to see it."
The cellar is quite a distance from the house, maybe 20 yards. It seems odd because it's a place a person would keep their food stores, and it only makes sense to have easy access from the house. Of course, knowing that his father and grandfather used it for storing moonshine makes the distance seem more reasonable, and what federal agent, or criminal, would think to look so far from the main cabin.
There is no structure. Nothing visible from above ground, instead, Daryl seems to just be randomly reaching into brush and grasses when he pulls open the big trap door and says, "This is it, in all its glory." He reaches in and grabs a lantern hanging just inside, lights it and advises, "I'll go first, you put a hand on my shoulder and just follow. The stairs are sturdy, made of stone, but they aren't as even as they could be."
They walk deep inside and Beth is amazed by what she sees when Daryl lights two overhead lamps, it's all so much more than she expected. There are wooden shelves full of canning jars that are filled with fruits, meats, vegetables, fish, and she sees the stew and soup they canned.
On the opposite wall there are more shelves, these are filled with baskets and boxes containing root vegetables like potatoes, radishes, yams, onions and carrots, and there are large baskets with other vegetables like squashes and greens. There are also big plastic containers on the ground with labels that read, powdered milk, grits, oatmeal, flour, sugar. There's even one that says storebought cookies and crackers.
She spots a primitive old still in the far corner, and stacked next to it is every kind of jar and bottle imaginable, all of them filled with clear liquid and covered in dust.
"I keep the weapons over here." He's not kidding. There are rifles and shotguns hanging from racks on the wall, as well as a menacing looking crossbow. He bends and opens a huge strongbox, pulling out a handgun, "This oughta work good for you. It's the smallest one I got."
He stands upright to hand it to her and they're both startled when her arms wrap around him like she's holding on for dear life, and she pleads, "Please don't leave me alone down there Daryl, please."
He doesn't mean to, it's just instinct or something when he cups her elbow, while he stands there wondering what the fuck to do next.
00
A/N Well, everyone is admitting they're feeling some kind of way, at least they're admitting it to themselves. Daryl seems half-convinced her story is true and he's busy planning. I hope you'll leave a comment. The chapter photo is on my tumblr blogs gneebee and bethylmethbrick, please have a look. Oh, and next chapter, we're going down the mountain. I hope you'll be here for that. Until then remember, I love ya large! xo gneebee