Chapter Text
Track Two: Come Together by Echosmith
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By the time Beth returned to her apartment at the end of the day, it's seven thirty-nine and she's wondering if she can get away with murder. Beth had made it to Antonio's just in time, breathless and fatigued as she rushed up to the smartly dressed woman with the dark mocha colored skin, her long dreadlocks carefully piled on her head. A smile touched the woman's full lips once she saw the petite blond making her way toward her. Michonne chuckled as she brought her cup of coffee to her lips.
"You look like you're ready to fall over, girl," she teased as she motions for Beth to sit across from her.
Beth fell into the seat with a heavy sigh, her limbs all but sighing in relief. "I think Andrea hates me," she groaned as she laid her head on the cool surface of the table. "Or she's at least trying to kill me."
Michonne simply grinned as she lifted her cup to her lips and took a sip of the scalding liquid.
"Believe it or not, I think she just likes you. Andrea has a . . . a singular mind. When she focuses on one thing, she can move mountains. Don't matter who's in her way."
Beth simply nodded, not even opening her eyes to see the look on Michonne's face.
"I ever tell you how me and Andrea got into business together?" the older woman asked as a slight smile moved across her face at the old memory. "She and I . . . we just stumbled upon each other. We had nothing, but we combined our talents and here we are."
Beth finally pried her eyes open to gaze at Michonne, who was-mentally at least-a thousand miles away.
"You really care about her, don't you?" Beth asked as she sat up, leaning forward to brace her arms on the table top.
"She's like a sister to me," Michonne agreed. "I know working for her is . . . challenging . . . but she's worked hard to be where she is. And she fights every damn day to keep what she has."
Beth could only blink, taken aback by the fierce protectiveness behind Michonne's words.
"I just . . . I just wish she would at least acknowledge everything I do. I feel like I'm running in place. Like, everything I do and everything I attempt to do, just makes her like me less," Beth confided, rubbing a hand across her cheek.
"She sees what you do, all of it," Michonne assured Beth, her smile widening as she turned her cup in her hand absently. "She just ain't one to encourage or reward people for doing well. No, Andrea, she's like an angry football coach during the championship game. Mean and vicious, fighting tooth and nail to get that trophy. And degrading his players as he goes because he think it'll make them tough, and work twice as hard."
Beth simply sighed as she made to push herself to her feet. Michonne had reached for the envelope and pulled the papers free. She made a strangled noise that stopped Beth in her tracks. It had sound a lot like laughter.
"What is it?" Beth asked unthinkingly. Normally she would have been a good gopher and kept her nose clear of business matters between Michonne and Andrea, but Michonne was struggling for breath she was laughing so hard.
"Lord, she has lost it," Michonne sighed as she took a sip of her coffee.
"What?" Beth asked as she sat back down.
"She . . . Andrea is setting up a new album for Dixon," she smirked. "Whole thing's for charity. He'll be headlining the album while we get some other bands and artists to back him. She's planning a tour and everything."
"Oh, yeah, she mentioned it earlier before I left," Beth said. "But why is it funny? Isn't this good? Think of all the good it could do."
"Oh, sweetheart that is not why I'm laughing. I'm laughing cuz Daryl Dixon ain't never gunna write the ballad she wants. Much less perform one. The man's a lot of things but in touch with his lighter emotions is not one of them. I doubt that man has ever been in love."
Beth said nothing, lost in thought over Michonne's offhanded remark. Magazine covers were plastered with Daryl and women of all walks of fame, but all of those 'relationships' had ended as quickly as they had began. But surely that didn't mean the man had never been in love. Beth couldn't imagine such a thing.
Just then, Beth's phone began playing Cruella De Vil theme from 101 Dalmatians. A blush broke out across Beth's face as she scrambled to answer the phone, Michonne grinning wickedly as she watched the young woman.
"Yes? Andrea?"
"Beth! Where are you?" As always, Andrea was not in a good mood.
Beth winced at the sternness in the woman's tone. "Ah, sorry Andrea, I got to talking with Michonne an-"
"You don't get paid to gossip with Michonne! Come back to the office now."
Beth sighed as Andrea abruptly ended the call, turning back to Michonne. "Duty calls."
Michonne shook her head. "You're going to be fine, Beth. Keep your chin up. And you might want to change that ringtone."
Beth giggled nervously. "Um, Maggie did that. After meeting Andrea one weekend. Needless to say, she wasn't taken with Andrea."
Michonne simply chuckled. "Take care of yourself."
Beth nodded, smiling slightly. "Bye."
The rest of Beth's day was a series of long phone calls and filing documents. Andrea only barked at her a handful of times, ordering her to copy this and fax that. Beth kept her mouth shut, obeying Andrea's commands with only one goal: to get home at a decent hour. Beth's goal was accomplished as she stumbled up the three flights of stairs to her cozy one bedroom apartment. As she finally reached her floor, Beth had concluded murder wouldn't solve her problems with Andrea.
Sadly.
Beth was reaching for her keys when there was a rasping cough from behind her. On instinct, Beth turned to face the source of the sound, her eyes falling on a man sitting on the floor of the hall, his denim clad legs sprawled out carelessly. He had a cigarette tucked between his lips, his shaggy dark hair obscuring his eyes from her view. Warning bells went off in the back of Beth's mind as she slowly began approaching the stranger.
"Um, are you all right?" Beth asked, hr gaze moving over the stranger once more.
The man pulled the cigarette from his mouth, pulling one leg up to extinguish the flame on the sole of his boot. "Uh huh, you Beth Greene?"
The warning bells had turned to sirens. "Um, yes . . . ."
"Bout damn time," he grunted as he climbed to his feet.
Standing, the stranger dwarfed Beth by at least a head, which didn't comfort Beth in the slightest. Those self defense classes she had taken with Maggie had taught her to escape dangerous situations-before Beth had stopped attending in lieu of guitar lessons with Otto.
If I get out of this alive I'll sign up for kickboxing, I swear, Beth gulped as her grip on her bag tightened.
"Do I know you?" Beth asked, because now that he was standing he did look familiar, somehow.
That made the man pause, a spiteful smirk curving his lips. "Nah. You don't look much like the rocker type."
"Excuse me?" Beth asked, the way he'd said it came off more then a little condescending, and as Beth watched the man standing in her hall, she liked him less and less. "Never mind, you have a goodnight sir."
"Hey," he called after her as Beth made for her door, keys in hand. Before she could reach hit tough, the stranger was blocking her way.
"'M sorry, don't mean to come off as a dick, ya just look like the Taylor Swift type s'all."
Oh, yes, her dislike for this man was growing with every word that came out of his mouth. "Please move, I've had a long day and I'd really rather be in my bed then standing out in the hall with you."
What he did next really caught Beth off guard. The man laughed. Well, it was more of raspy chuckle, but something told her that he wasn't one for body shaking laughter.
"Yer not as sweet as you look, huh?"
"Goodnight." Beth ground out as she attempted to move past him.
The man's hand shot out, and Beth simply reacted. She swung her bag wide, hitting the stranger against one broad shoulder.
"Ow! The fuck girl? What ya got in there? Bricks?"the man mumbled a few curses before tossing a spiral notebook at Beth's feet-one she hadn't even noticed him carrying. "Ain't no freaking stalker or whatever, just came by to return this."
Beth stared from the notebook to the stranger before finally crouching down to collect the book. Beth's heart faltered in her chest as recognition hit her.
"This is mine." she said dumbly.
"Yeah, I know that, ya dropped it when you plowed me over in the elevator."
His words brought a memory to the forefront of her mind-of rushing out of the elevator and colliding with a man, papers flying everywhere and Beth scrambling to collect her things and get to Michonne at Antonio's.
"Oh," she said, a blush coloring her pale face. "Um I'm sorry. Thank you, for returning this, you didn't have to and you don't know what it means to me that you did Mr-"
"Dixon. Daryl Dixon," he grunted lifting a hand out to her.
But Beth didn't move to take it, she was frozen in place as his name echoed in her mind like a shout in the Grand Canyon.
Daryl Dixon.
Daryl Dixon.
Sweet lord she hit Daryl Dixon.
"Shit," she whispered.
Daryl's brows moved up ward, making his bangs shift across his forehead, his face forming a mild expression of surprise. "You just curse, songbird?"
"Please don't get me fired," Beth pleaded, this was just what Andrea would need to get Beth out of T Records for ever. Beth had all but assaulted Andrea's biggest client. "I-I didn't know it was you-and I'm sorry for hitting you-"
"Girl, enough, I ain't here to harass you or get ya fired. Just here to return yer book and ask you something." he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
"I'm sorry Mr. Dixon-"
"S'just Daryl."
"- fine, Daryl, but I don't really understand what you could have to ask me. I'm just an intern." Beth rubbed a hand down her arm as she glanced around the vacant hall way.
"Ya can help me by writing a song with me."
"What?" Beth exclaimed, her blue eyes going wide. "Do what?"
"Read some of yer stuff, your real good-"
"You read my journal," Beth exclaimed, anger coursing through her small frame. "These are my private thoughts! My music-you can't just read people's personal property without their permission!"
Daryl wisely took a step back from the irate girl. She was a tiny thing but he was aware first hand her swing packed a wallop.
"S'not like I meant to, damn thing was open, I was just picking it up and read few lines, s'all. Didn't read it page to page or nothing," Daryl grunted.
"What did you read?" she ground out from between clenched teeth.
Daryl wasn't sure what he wanted to do more-laugh or cart the girl off to a shrink. He'd never seen someone so small go from polite to kick ass to pleading to for her job to angrier than a nest of hornets.
"Just couple of lines of one song. Echo?"
Beth's anger evaporated from her body. "Just a few lines? And you think I'm good? Good enough to write a song with you?" she was eyeing him with a mingle of skepticism and hope, the logical side of her being telling her there was no way Daryl Dixon really wanted to work with her.
"Better then the assholes Andrea's trying to get me to use for this stupid song," he grumbled.
Beth frowned. "If you don't want to do the charity album, then why don't you . . . I don't know . . . don't?"
"S'not that I don't wanna; just don't wanna do a stupid fucking love song," he growled. "Ain't the mushy type."
"And you think I am?" Beth bit back a laugh, not sure if she should be offended or amused.
"S'not meant to get yer panties in a bunch. Just mean, lord, girl you gunna write this thing with me or not? You'll get paid the regular fee for whatever song we come up with."
"I don't want your money, Daryl. Just don't understand why me. I'm an intern, and your manager hates me-"
"Andrea hates everyone, songbird."
"-and you have some of the best writers at your dispenses. It doesn't make sense."
"Don't have to make sense," Daryl mumbled as he lifted his gaze to hers', blue meeting blue. "S'just know you're it."
That was it. He didn't elaborate, didn't explain, but at the same time Beth didn't need him to. She understood.
"I need some time," Beth said with a sigh, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. "And it'd be nice for some kind of guarantee that Andrea wont fire me over this."
"She ain't gunna fire ya. Swear. How long you need," Daryl asked as he reached into his jacket pocket for his smokes.
"Just . . . a day. I'll call you," Beth said, as she pulled out her phone, handing it to him.
"How I know ya won't hand my number out to all your girly friends," he smirked, but he was only half joking.
"I'm not that kind of person, Daryl. And I don't really have any friends who listen to you."
"Ouch," he grunted as he quickly typed his number into her phone and handed it back to her. "Think I prefer your beatings, songbird."
Beth just shook her night. "Goodnight, Mr. Dixon."
And with that, Beth moved past him, reaching for her door, slipping her key through the lock. Behind her, Beth listened as Daryl sighed and the heavy falls of his footsteps moved away from her.
"Need yer help, songbird. Don't ask for help much, but I ain't stupid. Know I can't do this without you."
Beth gnawed on her bottom lip as she struggled not to turn around and meet his smokey gaze as she unlocked her door and slipped inside, closing the door soundly behind her.
Beth leaned back against the door, thankful for the solidity of the object as her legs seemed to turn to jelly.
"What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Beth Greene," Beth asked herself as her eyes fell closed she say Daryl's storm blue eyes.
Trouble.