She could tell she was dreaming: the same scenes as always in whatever particular order her brain had decided on that night.
The woods, a fire, the trunk of a car alone, and with someone. Gunshots, many, and just one. Cement walls, her childhood bedroom, breaking glass, crying, laughter. And running. Always running.
Something touched her face and she gasped awake, eyes popping open as she swung out wildly to knock the offender far enough away to have time to grab a weapon. The only thing stopping her from doing so was the smell that instantly hit her nose when her brain came awake. Cinnamon .
The woman who cleaned her apartment replaced an air freshener every time she visited, and now that autumn was upon them she started using the scent. It was fake and overpowering, and reminded her of holiday baking with her mother as a child, but at the moment it meant one thing: she was in her own home.
Her eyes popped open with movement on the bed and she quickly adjusted to the darkened room to see…. right.
"Hey," he said with a soft smile and eyes drowsy with sleep. "You were dreaming. Whacked me in the face," he mentioned with a small laugh, not upset by the disruption at all.
She could have apologized, she should have, but she was feeling vulnerable after reliving those memories and just couldn't right then. "You're not supposed to fall asleep here."
He blinked, as if his sleep-addled brain hadn't quite heard her. "I know, I uh…" He repeated the motion. "Okafor's really been running us, you know? I'm just tired. Won't happen again."
She narrowed her eyes at him in the darkened room. The sun wasn't even peaking yet. "Get out." She didn't order it, necessarily, but her tone still left no doubt that she meant it.
He didn't argue; they'd been doing this long enough to know that it wouldn't get him anywhere. He simply nodded and threw the covers back, collected his clothes from various spots on the floor, and left. Once she heard the front door shut behind him she slowly lowered herself back down to rest on her pillow.
She liked him, more than most of the other idiots around here. He was easy, and not battle-hardened, and gave her a lopsided grin that reminded her of the last real boyfriend she had at the prison. If she were going to allow anyone to stay overnight it'd be him. But rules were rules, and as soon as she gave leeway in one area her finely tuned and structured system would start to fall apart. Even still, she slightly regretted interrupting his much-needed sleep.
She definitely regretted it a few weeks later when he died in the crash that brought her Rick. She could have just let him sleep.
NowThey continued to lock eyes for longer than they probably needed to before silently agreeing to end the conversation there, and get back to scouring the house for supplies. Daryl made a few more trips to and from the bathroom to drop armfuls of items into the collection on the bed, as Beth made her way through the dresser drawers for more clothing. There were so many pairs of socks she could cry over how warm her feet were about to be, and blushed as she pulled out a menagerie of boxers for Daryl to choose from.
After filling the bed with their loot she thought that they probably didn't need to check the other rooms; what they'd already found was more than what they could carry. However Daryl was determined to check every nook and cranny, knowing the best items weren't always so out in the open.
He moved into another room as Beth started to sort the belongings on the bed into piles of importance, and then further into piles for his pack or hers. She'd found a few other bags in the closet but she was hesitant to weigh themselves down by carrying more. She'd just finished divvying up those precious socks when Daryl popped his head back in from the hallway. "Other rooms are just guest rooms, nothing much in 'em. I'm going to go check out the garage out back."
Beth scrunched her eyebrows at him. "Want me to come with you?" She already knew the answer but asked just in case.
"Nah," of course. "I'll holler if I need ya."
She almost snapped back with something but managed to hold her tongue. It was too…much. Too far past their normal teasing, too close to something that he could take the wrong way. Too familiar to how she used to watch Maggie flirt with boys, back when she still had a sister to look up to. When haven't you needed me?
The sentence rolled around in her head for much longer than she intended. It wasn't suggestive at all, really, and yet those five simple words felt like crossing some kind of line they'd never even approached before.
They hadn't, right?
Beth mindlessly sorted through the pile, just barely paying attention to what was in her hands and which direction she should put in it. Didn't lift the lavender soap up to her nose to see if the scent still lingered, didn't stop to appreciate the soft, worn out cotton of the button-up shirts she threw in his pile. There were still-in-the-package toothbrushes and she didn't do more than toss one in each of their stacks. The baggie of hair ties meant nothing to her.
Did she want to flirt with Daryl?
She could admit easily that she cared about him. More than she cared about mostly everyone else in a way that scared her, was dangerous for him if her enemies found out. Return the favor he'd so willingly give, kill for her, die for her. She wouldn't even question doing it for him. But that didn't necessarily mean–
A sharp whistle cut through the air, his. Beth dropped the shampoo bottle in her hands to step hastily to the bedroom's open window. The man plaguing her thoughts was below, and she relaxed somewhat when she saw that he wasn't in any kind of danger. Instead she tried to play off her flustered mood and simply cocked her head at him, waiting for him to explain.
"Meet me in the garage when you're done. Gonna be down here awhile."
She didn't trust herself at all really, but especially not with responding to him, so she simply nodded her head and watched him turn to walk away. Now that he was on her mind she couldn't tear her eyes away. His form, his swagger, those arms that were currently hidden away by his jacket that she just knew still looked as good as they always had.
Once he was out of sight it was like her brain reset, and she exhaled while shaking her head. She really needed to get whatever that was out of her system.
Beth walked back over to the bed with the intent of throwing herself into getting the supplies dealt with. She reached into the pile of clothing thinking that they'd both probably want something to help with the cold chill once the sun dropped out of view and pulled on the first thing her hand touched. It was a smaller garment, and her face twisted in confusion until she used both hands to hold it straight out. She blushed redder than a tomato realizing it was the boxers again as she threw them in the direction of his stack.
She shook herself off once more and got to work, getting everything they'd collected arranged as she liked, then packed her own stockpile into her backpack. The thing was nearly overstuffed by the time she finished, but she wasn't going to skimp on the worm clothes she'd found. Beth hated feeling cold.
She glanced around the room for Daryl's bag so she could pack it for him, knowing that he hadn't taken it outside with him. Not seeing it, she walked around the bed and into the bathroom where she saw his pack on the floor. She took in the space covered in a faded floral wallpaper, noting the open cabinets he hadn't bothered closing before noticing the items he'd left on the side of the porcelain sink. It was a small brown bottle of peroxide with some clean bandages and medical tape.
Beth didn't think he was injured; he must have intended these for her. That he thought of her shouldn't have been a surprise. Daryl was always taking care of others, but it still sent a pang right to the place in her mind she'd just crawled out from.
Still, she insisted upon herself that now was not the time (and maybe it never would be) and decided to use his gift.
Beth stepped up to the sink and rolled up her sleeve, bracing herself to pull off the bandage Isablle had placed the day before. She hadn't really gotten a good look at the wound yet, hadn't had to and hadn't wanted to. That didn't matter though, as she ripped the old tape off with a wince and took it in.
It was angry and red, but seemed to be healing and not showing signs of infection. She'd stopped herself from thinking about how much it still burned but once she looked at it, it was like her body remembered what pain felt like. She could no longer forget that it hurt like a motherfucker.
She signed as she unscrewed the cap from the peroxide bottle, and didn't hesitate to immediately pour a good amount of the liquid over the wound as she held the offending arm over the sink. If she thought it burned before, now it was as if she were holding it over a flame. Beth grit her teeth and rocked back on her feet thinking for a moment that she might pass out. Maybe she should've waited until she was with Daryl to do this.
Too late , she thought as she breathed out and poured again before nearly dropping the bottle back to the counter and using her now free hand to grip the edge for balance. She closed her eyes and held motionless while she waited for the fire running up her arm to tame a bit and the dizziness to fade. Once she was sure she wasn't going to faint she pried her eyes back open to look at the wound again.
It was even more angry looking now, and she was afraid to move it, so she held still and let it air dry before placing the new bandage on top and using her teeth to rip strips of tape to hold it in place. She tested placing her arm down at her side, now that it was covered. It wouldn't bother her much, she thought, as long as she didn't touch it against anything.
She breathed out for what felt like the millionth time that afternoon and replaced the cap on the peroxide bottle and picked it up. She spun to where Daryl's bag sat on the floor near the glassdoor shower, and looped it between a few fingers on her good hand to take it out into the bedroom. She babied her injured arm as she worked, quickly packed up the belongings she'd set aside for him, adding the brown bottle along with the toiletries, flannel, sweaters, and those damn boxers. The spare bag went just as quickly and fit almost everything else except for some of the heavier clothes that were fine to leave behind.
Done with her task, Beth scanned the room again for anything she'd missed before grabbing the sweater she'd left out for herself and slipping it on. It was a knit maroon pullover made with a thick cotton that would do wonders once the temperature dropped later that night. She winced as she slid her one arm into the sleeve, but it helped that it was a few sizes too big for her. She then looped both arms through her backpack to wear it down the stairs, and settled the spare duffel across her chest. She probably looked ridiculous, but it was the only way to keep both arms free for her gun and knife as she made her way outside.
The walk was uneventful (she pointedly did not look in the direction of the corpses of the couple) and before she knew it she was standing on the outer door to the detached garage behind the house. She paused. It wasn't the first time she'd been nervous about approaching him, far from it actually. But this time she was concerned about him seeing her earlier thoughts on her face. He was so good about reading people.
She rolled her eyes at herself and reached for the door handle. A few moments of wayward thoughts meant nothing in the long run.
Turning the latch, Beth grinned wildly as she looked at the scene before her, taking a few steps inside dropping the bags at her feet to signal her arrival. He gave her a quick glance, likely to make sure it was just her, before turning back to the object holding his attention. She quietly shut and locked the door she'd just come through and took a few more steps in before speaking with a smirk on her face. "I've never–"
Daryl whipped his head around so fast she was sure he'd have a crick in his neck later. "Told you I wasn't playing that damn game again." His voice didn't hold any malice, though his eyes held a small amount of uncertainty.
"-ridden on a motorcycle," she finished as if he'd never protested. He didn't move other than to widen his eyes at her admission so she continued. "You wouldn't have taken me out with you at the prison even if I coulda got past Daddy and Maggie," she said with a teasing grin knowing that it was the truth. "And the CRM only uses them for scouts."
He just blinked at her a few times, and she worried that she pushed him too far (again, finally) by implicating their game. But he eventually shrugged at her and looked back to the machinery he was working on. "I get this running 'n that'll change."
With his face turned away from her, she couldn't be sure that he saw her smile, but she felt that he knew it was sitting on her face all the same. "You hungry? I can throw something together," she offered.
"Yeah, I could eat," was all he offered, so she got to work making them a few small sandwiches with the bread and cheese they'd brought, and cutting up an apple. She nudged him when she was done, holding out his share as he brushed off his hands and took his lunch from her.
They ate in a comfortable silence until he shoved the last few bites into his mouth and went to get back to fixing the bike. "Do you think you can get it running?" she asked.
He stopped his movement to turn around and acknowledge her. "Should. I figure we stay here tonight and we head out on it in the morning. Get there a lot quicker, 'specially with that other bag," he said, jerking his chin towards the bags she left near the door. She nodded and planned to leave it there for now before he continued. "Left some stuff near the sink," he said. "You see it?"
She grimaced and hoped he didn't take it personally. "Yeah, I cleaned it already. Hurt like a bitch."Daryl huffed out his acknowledgement and she gave him a half smile.
They spent the rest of the afternoon with him working on the motorcycle, clanging tools against the metal and cursing under his breath every now and then. Beth looked around the small space for any supplies they could use but there wasn't much. The garage itself was newer than the farmhouse, clearly built as an add-on and in decent shape. She hadn't seen a car anywhere on the property, surmising that it'd been taken long ago.
The motorcycle had clearly been a project piece. She wasn't sure if all the parts that were currently on the floor had been there when he'd started, but Daryl made progress in whatever he was doing as more and more pieces came off the floor and went somewhere on the machine.
A short time after the sun set he finally stood up and wiped his hands on his pants, and turned to her. "Alright, I think we're good."
"Yeah?" she asked, as she finished lighting the last of the votive candles she'd found inside a storage tub under Christmas decorations. There were only a handful of them, and she didn't think the light would shine through the small dirty windows of the building.
He bit his lip and nodded at her. "Don't wanna try starting it now though. Too much noise for us to be sleeping here after." She agreed and offered him food again, it was all she really had to do at the moment. "Maybe just another apple or something. Not that hungry."
Beth got to work slicing a pear for them to split as he settled with his back against the wall near the door, knees up and forearms resting on them. He watched her work as he picked at the skin around his nails, noticing how she was no longer hesitant with a blade like she'd been before. Just another thing time changed.
"You still sing?"
The question made her freeze in place, aside from her eyes which shot to his across the small, dimly lit room. She swallowed and was quiet for probably too long, for such a simple question, but it'd been so long since…well. "No," she answered him slowly, otherwise not moving. "Not since the funeral home."
He was so still her that part of her wondered if he was even breathing. But then he sucked in a breath and dropped his head down between his knees, and she knew he hadn't been. Before she knew what her own body was doing she dropped the knife and fruit in her hands and pushed herself forward, perching on her knees between his bent ones, reaching for him.
His face was stony, but his eyes were a million miles away, unfocused and lost in whatever terrible thoughts he was having about himself. Beth bit her lip and took a chance, placed a hand on his cheek to lift his gaze back towards her own. He instantly came to life, striking blue eyes meeting hers with so much emotion she felt like she could drown in it. She gave him the smallest quirk of her lips that could be considered an encouraging smile. "I'm sorry," she said as confusion filled her gaze. She quickly continued before he got the wrong idea. "I said I wouldn't leave you, and then I did."
Daryl's next breath stuttered in and he started to shake his head. "I–"
"Nothing that happened that night was your fault, Daryl." She brought her other hand up and fully grasped his face so he couldn't turn away from her as he fought against her without much gusto. She could feel a few stray tears run over her hands. "I never blamed you."
Beth was nearly knocked backwards when he half-fell into her, clutching her upper arms with both of his large hands as he did everything to not sob at her words. She moved her hands to wipe at his face and move his hair so that he couldn't hide behind it, as his hands fell to her waist and she was pulled flush against him.
She blinked harshly a few times before her eyes locked with his and she realized that he was right there . She was technically towering over him a little with her knees under her, but with her hands on her face and his hands wrapped around her, and their faces so close she realized just how intimate this was. She swallowed as her thoughts from earlier in the day ran through her head, and she wondered again if she really was overthinking things. But then he swallowed too and she dropped her gaze down to watch the movement before meeting his eyes again.
Oh.
The blue of his eyes was so striking this close up, and the mix of uncertainty and wonder that poured from them had to match her own. She was afraid to breathe, knowing that each one she'd take in would taste of him. The beating in her chest felt like it'd break her sternum if something didn't break soon, but she couldn't, wouldn't be the first one to make the move. Not when she was the one who'd been in the wrong for so much more than he had.
But then, for the briefest of seconds, his eyes left hers and flickered to the scar on her forehead and she felt the moment die.
She leaned back and inhaled deeply, pressed against his hands holding her close until they relaxed as she sat back on her haunches. She felt him take his own stuttering breath as she dropped her head to watch his chest rise and fall, and she tried to come up with something to say to fill the space she created when he beat her to it. "Sorry," he said in the quietest of voices she'd ever heard from him.
Beth looked back up at him to see him watching her cautiously, and she quirked her lips up at him. "Don't be." She meant it, but her mind was in turmoil.
They'd approached the line.