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Beth’s POV
Beth stands in front of the mirror, tracings the soul words tattooed onto left side of her ribs. Soul words are the words your soulmate will speak to you when the two of you fall in love. They are located on the same spot on each of the two people. The blonde had always known her words were a little different, but only in high school, when soul words became the main topic of gossip, had she realized just how different.
Of course she had compared her own to her siblings and her parents when she was younger, but everyone’s words were unique so she hadn’t thought much of the fact that hers were not similar. Maggie had a long paragraph of a sickly sweet confession tattooed down her thigh. Shawn’s was short but sweet, located on his forearm, saying ‘You are the best man I have ever met’. Her parent’s were a classic ‘I love you’ on the inside of their wrists. While everyone’s soulwords were individualized, they all shared a common theme of being romantic whether it was said in a silly tone or serious, in three words or a whole speech.
Beth’s were different though. It was only one word, if it could even be called a word. It was four letters, all the same: ‘mmmm’. It was a freaking mumble, her soulmate mumbled his love to her.. It made no freaking sense! Maggie had tried to look at it in a new light recently, stating that maybe it was more of a groan of pleasure if they were getting down and dirty. However, Beth knew it wasn’t because she wasn’t the type of girl to have sex with a boy before she knew she loved him.
The freshmen girls on the track team had first brought the absurd soul words to her attention when they had changed in the dressing room. Ashley had asked what was on her ribs and suddenly the whole team was snickering. They hadn’t meant it badly, but seriously, who gets a confession in the form of a mumble. After that, the whole school slowly found out. Beth wanted to die of embarrassment or change schools or move to a whole different country, but that was of course impossible.
Boys teased her in the hallway, mumbling at her and asking if she had fallen in love with them. One guy even asked if her soulmate was a mute. One girl taunted Beth after hearing that the guy she liked was more interested in the blonde. She had laughed in Beth’s face, saying that she must be awfully desperate to fall for any guy who would so much as mumble at her. As frustrating as this all was, she couldn’t blame them because she herself wondered at the absurdity of all of it. The blonde had daydreamed about meeting her true love since she was a little girl. In none of her daydreams or the romance novels she read did anyone ever mumble their love.
The main clue she had was that her soulmate was older than her, since she had been born with the soul words tattooed on her side. He was also still alive, because if he died, the words would fade. With a groan, Beth placed a band-aid over the words, which were easy to cover since they were so short. Her best friend, Rebecca, had convinced her to go to a pool party and together the girls had picked out bikinis. It wasn’t until right as she was getting dressed that the blonde realized that anyone would be able to see her soul words, which were usually hidden from the outside world.
A part of her felt guilty covering up the words, like she should defend the man who would one day mumble at her and somehow make her fall madly in love. However, she didn’t feel like dealing with questions and the stares and the snickers as she walked around. Rebecca understands her more than anyone else. Her best friend has ‘I realized I like women when I saw you’ tattooed on her collarbone. In a small, conservative, Georgia town, that was pretty much a bullseye for getting bullied. However, even Rebecca’s soulwords don’t get as much attention as Beth’s do.
Daryl’s POV
The redneck yanks off his ratty, sleeveless, button-down, throwing it on the floor before he steps in the shower. His head is pounding, not from the alcohol, but from where he got punched in the head defending Merle, as his brother stupidly mouthed off to the biggest guy in the bar. Running his hands through his hair, he winces as he reaches the bruise. If his fingernails along his scalp are anything to go by, he has some dried blood stuck in his hair. Rubbing all over with a bar of soup, the man rinses off in the luke-warm water that was only to be expected in a trashy trailer. It isn’t his or Merle’s trailer, it is the home of some woman his brother managed to chat up. The trashy woman’s makeup is littered all over the bathroom counter and the floor looks like it hasn’t been swept in years. However, this is his first shower in days so it isn’t like he can get much filthier.
“Oooohhhh, yeah, darling, that is just how I like it” Merle groans and Daryl can hear the creaking of a bed like it is inches from him.
Damn stupid paper thin trailer walls. Not wanting to go out and get any closer to what is going on, the redneck takes his time drying off, looking in the mirror for the first time in a while. He could probably go for a haircut. His eyes drop down to the two letters on his left ribcage and he winces at the sight. They had shown up when he was seventeen, which was enough ammunition for his brother to use against him without even going into the actual word written out.
He gone to a party with Merle and his older brother’s buddies, which ended in him being passed out drunk on the floor. Merle had hit him awake in the morning, pulling him outside by the collar of his shirt, ripping most of the buttons in the process, yelling something about the cops and they had both ran into the woods. They had been hiding, ducking behind bushes, watching as the police officers searched the area.
“Ain’t no way those fuckers are gonna find us,” Merle had commented, “couldn’t find their own dick between their legs if ya ask me.”
Daryl had to agree with his brother’s assessment. The men clearly weren’t trackers, they didn’t’ know how to read the signs, not like he did. Shifting to his side, Daryl squints up at the sun, getting an estimate of the time. He is in the middle of deciding it is between seven and eight in the morning when he gets a jab in his ribs from Merle.
“What the hell,” Daryl hisses, glaring at his sibling, “ya fuckin tryin ta start somethin. Ain’t ya had enough fun this mornin.”
“How long ya had that,” Merle demands, jamming his finger into his ribs again.
“How much crack did you do,” scoffs the younger sibling, “yer not makin any sense.”
“That word,” his brother insists, causing Daryl to finally look down.
At first he thinks someone scribbled on him in permanent marker while he was passed out, but then slowly, it dawns on him. It can’t be though, nobody else in his family ever had any soulwords show up on them, Dixons don’t get soulmates. Bringing his hand up he tries to rub the word off, but it doesn’t budge.
“Oh,” Merle reads, staring at his ribs like he has a tumor, “well whatever jailbait you got a thing for in the future is obviously pretty disappointed when she finds out you are the one.”
“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, quickly pulling his shirt closed so to hide the words.
“I always told you ain’t nobody ever gonna love you but ol’ Merle,” his brother continues, ignoring his warning.
“Going all soft Darlina,” Merle teases, “getting a soulmate and everything. Who would have thunk it….too bad she doesn’t like you too much either.”
Daryl doesn’t even bother trying to tell Merle off this time, he just starts walking.
“Hey,” shouts his brother, once they are out of hearing range, “where the hell is your ass goin?”
“Fuck you,” he hollers behind him, only to be answered with laughter and footsteps as his brother catches up.
“Some daddy isn’t gonna be real happy when you show up for his baby daughter,” Merle pushes, “and I do mean baby, hot damn, didn’t know you had it in you brother. You are gonna make ol’ Merle proud if ya don’t get shot first.”
That was only the beginning of the jabs and jokes thrown his way. Every new person they met, Merle just had to bring up his baby brother’s soulwords, causing Daryl to groan each time. It was just another reason to add to the list of why he always wore a shirt.
At first the soulwords had caused him a great deal of worry. Of course, even when he got one thing that should be nice, it was still messed up, because that was part of being a Dixon. Daryl figured Merle was right, his soulmate would be disappointed when she knew it was him. He didn’t assumed the ‘oh’ could be anything else. What the fuck else could it mean if the way you tell somebody you love them is just met with an ‘oh’. Not that he could really picture himself confessing his love to anyone.
Daryl doesn’t have the same love for women as Merle does and by love he means lust. His older brother thrust women at him all the time, but he never was interested. His sibling seemed to think that something was wrong with him, for not wanting female companionship, but he never felt comfortable being that close to somebody. He couldn’t relax and he refused to take his clothes off. The few times he had done anything had been blow jobs and he had just pulled his dick out of his pants long enough for the women to suck him off.
Daryl hates the way women tried to touch him or how they expected him to undress. He doesn’t want them to see his scars or his soul words or the way he flinches at the slightest touch. Just because he has a soulmate now doesn’t change that, doesn’t change who he is. He doesn’t go looking for his soulmate like some people do, figures that maybe she is better off without him anyway, considering how disappointed she will be to find out it is him. Besides, she isn’t even legal yet, is only fourteen by his calculations, which makes him feel like a total creep despite the fact that he hasn’t done anything, doesn’t even know her. Hell he doesn’t even really know any women that age.
“Fuck yeah sugar,” shouts Merle, causing Daryl to roll his eyes and pull a new shirt on over his head.
Yeah, just because he had a couple letters tattooed on his chest, that didn’t make him any less of a Dixon. Probably best for both of them if they just never meet.
Beth’s POV
The blonde’s world had come tumbling down around her during her senior year. At first it was just a couple new stories, then it was on every channel, now it was the only thing people talked about. A disease that made people attack and try to eat other people. It was horrifying and school had been canceled, stores had been closed. Then, her mama and Shawn had became infected and it was no longer a story on TV or from the neighbors, it had hit her very own home. So many people had died, but the word on Beth’s ribs never disappeared. Every morning she checked as soon as she woke up, worried that something would have happened overnight. It was funny how much it had frustrated her all of those years and now she felt relieved looking down and seeing those four letters. Despite all the changes, despite all the tragedy, her soulmate was still out there somewhere, surviving. At least that one part of her life hadn’t changed.
Jimmy, her neighbor, had come to stay with them since his parents had not returned from their trip to Atlanta to pick up supplies. The young man was nice enough, obviously head over heels for her, which Maggie jokingly pointed out. However, something told her Jimmy wasn’t the one, other than the fact that he was a month younger than she was. The boy was far too vocal about his feelings, there is no way in the world he would mumble his confession to her. But, he was someone her age to talk to and Beth didn’t dislike Jimmy, so they hung out more and more. Jimmy didn’t have any soulwords, not everyone did. Maybe they would be good together, after all he had no soulmate and she had some sort of weird mumbling soulmate, but she just could never see him that way.
After a couple of months without any contact with anyone outside of the farm, Otis came back with a man and his son, who he had accidentally shot while hunting. Suddenly, her little world became a lot bigger and the monotony of the farm was turned into a flurry of action. Her daddy was performing surgery, Maggie was sent for the boy’s mother, people began showing up and setting up camp outside her house. The blonde was fascinated by strangers, they were new and had information about the outside world. Her father forbade them from entering the house, except for the boy and his parents, and set down rules as far as weapons.
Everyone seemed pretty compliant except for one man. He was the roughest looking out of the group, which was saying a lot since they had been living on the run for a couple months. Beth first saw him when he drove his loud motorcycle onto their property, immediately drawing her attention. She had been frightened of the intimidating man at first, who looked feral with his dirty clothes, sleeveless shirts, and his deadly skill with a crossbow, which he carried everywhere regardless of her daddy’s rules.
However, over time, Beth’s opinion changed. Despite the man’s rough exterior and harsh words and deadly assortment of weapons, he never did anything bad, in fact he hunted for food and looked for Carol’s lost little girl. Finally, at one point, Beth worked up the courage to introduce herself, trekking out to the tent the man inhabited far away from the rest of Rick’s group. The archer had appeared out of the tent, as if sensing her presence. The hunter pinned her with an intense stare that had her wondering if this was a good idea. Too late to turn back now though.
“I’m Beth Greene,” she introduces, sticking out her hand, putting a smile on her face.
For a couple moments, the redneck just stares at her, his eyes darting down to her hand as if trying to figure out exactly what was going on. Withdrawing her hand, Beth awkwardly clears her throat.
“I just thought,” the teenager begins, fumbling around for the right words, “that since you and everyone else are staying at my family’s home for the foreseeable future, maybe I should get to know you.”
The rough man gives the slightest of nods, still not opening his mouth or offering his name. When she doesn’t move, he finally talks.
“Ya need somethin,” he asks harshly, his voice gravelly and deep, his brows furrowed.
She almost loses her nerve, but something in her is determined.
“Yeah, your name,” she tosses back at him, refusing to be scared off.
“Daryl,” he grumbles out after it is apparent that she isn’t leaving, “happy now?”
She still doesn’t know his last name, but that appears to be all she is getting.
“Nice to meet you Daryl,” Beth tells him properly, “hopefully I will see you around.”
“Why the hell would you want to see me,” he snaps, his eyes squinting at her, as if trying to figure out an ulterior motive.
“So I can talk to you,” is all she can offer, suddenly feeling silly.
Daryl grunts at her before plopping himself unceremoniously on the ground and pulling his backpack from where it is sitting a few feet away. He digs in a pulls out a stone from the bag and his knife from his belt. The hunter begins sharpening the knife, pointedly not looking at her, as the grating noise fills the air.
“Alright,” Beth mutters, under her breath sarcastically, before turning around and heading back to her house, “this was fun, let’s do it again sometime.”
With her back to the archer, she isn’t able to see the little twitch of his lips when the man’s sharp ears pick up her words.
Daryl’s POV
“If you had just asked I could have told you to take any other horse but Nelly,” Hershel tells him as he finishes stitching up Daryl’s wounds, “there is a reason we call her Nervous Nelly.”
Daryl groans and rolls his eyes, not feeling up to the lecture from this old man after the shitty day he has had. His fingers twitch from where he is holding an ice pack to his head. He had gone looking for Sophia and gotten kicked off a horse, fallen onto his own bolt, then had to pull that same bolt out to stab a walker. By the time he made it back to the farm he had been half-dead, so it wasn’t surprising that Andrea had shot him thinking he was a walker. However, that wasn’t the worst of it. He had to handle being patched up, which meant taking his shirt off, letting the strange, old man see the scars on his back, the word on his chest.
The weight of the farmer’s eyes made him more uncomfortable than any prick of the needle or pull of the thread through his skin. The vet’s gaze kept trying to sneak glances at Daryl’s soul word, before glancing back down at his work. It is like the man couldn’t help it though, after a little while he would be staring again.
“I know,” he huffs, getting to the punchline before the other guy can, “it’s stupid.”
“Don’t go putting words into my mouth son,” Hershel patiently replies as he adds another stich.
“I ain’t your son,” Daryl automatically bites out, before continuing, “and you don’t need to tell me, everyone else already has….saw you staring at it and….I’m not dumb, I know what people think.”
“I wasn’t staring because I thought anything was wrong with it,” Hershel calmly tells him as he ties off and cuts the thread of the last of the stiches, his soothing tone causing Daryl to settle a bit, “It just isn’t a very common place to have a soulmark and my daughter’s is in the same….”
“Daddy,” comes a sweet, lilting voice, as he hears the door opens just a crack, “did you need any help?”
“What the fucking hell,” Daryl cusses, flipping around and pulling the sheets up around him, but it is too late, he can tell by the wide eyes that the girl has seen his back, “don’t y’all got any damn manners around this place? Walking in on a man half dressed? Can’t I get any goddamn peace?”
The girl, Beth he remembers, just stands there with her mouth hanging open and her hand still resting on the doorknob, as if she isn’t sure what to do, her gaze darting back and forth between him and her daddy before she offers a squeaked ‘sorry’ and slams the door shut.
“Now Daryl,” comes Hershel’s nonthreatening but firm voice, “I know you have had a rough day but I will not permit anyone to talk to my family like that under my roof. I suggest you get some sleep and if you want to stay in the house, consider changing your language when you wake back up.”
“Never said I wanted to stay,” he grumbles out, staring out the window, definitely not making eye contact.
“You are free to go,” Hershel offers, calling his bluff, knowing he is too injured to even make it to his own tent without help.
“Just fer the night,” the redneck confesses, before adding, “then I’m out of here, got better shit ta do than sit around on my ass all day.”
“Language Daryl,” Hershel insists again, before shutting the door, finally leaving his patient to get some rest.
Beth’s POV
The blonde misses the farm, but the prison is by far more secure. She sings to the baby in her arms as she looks out the window. Almost walks off when she catches sight of Daryl Dixon emerging from the woods, squirrels hanging off his shoulder. She blushes when she realizes she is staring, watching the way the man walks, the play of his muscles as he moves his crossbow to his back so he can wave at the guard tower to open the gate. He isn’t the kind of man she would have ever expected herself to have a crush on, but something about the way he can go from a protector, bashing in the heads of walkers, to a provider, bringing home food for everyone, to a leader, stepping up into Rick’s role when the man was crippled with grief, to a caring dad, when he is around Judith, is enough to make any woman’s heart skip a beat. Moving away from the window, Beth takes a deep breath, trying to focus again on the baby’s gurgling.
Later that night, after supper, Beth is changing Judith’s diaper when there is a knock on the side of her cell. She calls for the visitor to come in and has to try and act normal when Daryl strides through, pushing her curtain aside.
“How’s ass-kicker,” he asks, his concern for the baby belying his tough, standoffish attitude.
“I already told you, Carl named her Judith,” Beth reprimands, as she finishes securing a new diaper and handing the baby over.
“I named her first,” Daryl insists stubbornly, as if this is a matter of first-come-first-serve.
“Don’t work like that,” Beth grins, watching as the gruff man cradles the little girl in his big arms.
“She sure loves you though,” the blonde feels compelled to say, as if to make up for the fact that the girl has been officially named.
“She is a baby,” he snorts, “only things she loves are that bottle and constantly being held.”
“Judith may be an infant,” the blonde disagrees, “but I think she knows us, recognizes us, understands in some way all of the things we do for her. Especially you, if you didn’t go out looking for formula so often, she would have starved a long time ago. You have really stepped up for her and she knows it. That is why she is always so excited to see you.”
“Mmmm,” the archer mumbles, averting his eyes, looking suddenly shy.
That is when it hits Beth. Could it be? Daryl wasn’t known for his emotional openness and tended to become shy or closed off even on simple matters like being complimented or included in their prison family. Half of his sentences were mumbled, he was older than her, and he was still alive, which was no small feat these days. Those four letters on her ribs, could he be the one that would say them? Even if he did, how would she know the difference between an ‘I love you’ mumble and any other mumble that came out of his mouth?
It was just a guess, but as Beth mulled it over the next few days, she became more and more certain. The only problem was, her and Daryl barely spent time together. Despite living together in the prison, in close quarters, she still barely knew anything about him. The archer didn’t seem to show her any particular interest, he didn’t go out of his way to talk to her more than necessary, he didn’t act any different around her compared to anyone else. So, maybe she was wrong, maybe it was someone else.
Daryl’s POV
The archer was tired after the long council meeting and all he wanted to do was go see his little asskicker. Of course, she wasn’t actually his, but sometimes he almost forgot that. The only problem was that Beth had her. The blonde made Daryl unreasonably nervous. He chalked it up to the fact that the young woman was young and pretty and sweet and very feminine and all the thing he was not used to. The hunter just didn’t know what to say or do around her, especially since the time Merle pointed out that Beth’s age lined up with when he got his soul words. His brother had always been way too perceptive, until he got himself killed that is.
At the time, Daryl hadn’t thought on Merle’s comment much, mostly because there were way more important things to focus on, like Judith, and trying to keep the peace between his brother and the rest of the prison, and waiting for the Governor to strike. Now that Judith was eating mashed food and Rick had come back to his senses and they had stopped the attack by Woodbury, before incorporating some of the people into their prison home, things had calmed down as much as they ever did these days. Things had calmed down to a point where sometimes his mind would wander. When he went to see Judith he would hear Beth hum to the baby or say a sweet and soft ‘hey’ when she saw him. It was like the young woman could pack so much meaning and so much love into just a single syllable.
Sometimes it made him wonder because Merle was a lot of things but dumb wasn’t one of them and the pieces all seemed to align so well. She was the right age, he didn’t know her exact birthday though. She loved to say little words in that sighing voice of hers, and there was that one time when Hershel had almost said something, about his daughter having soul words in the same place. That sure as hell wasn’t the older Greene, who had her’s displayed proudly on her thigh, a whole fucking declaration of love long enough to make anyone sick.
Add that to the fact that she was still alive when probably ninety-five percent of the world was gone, the odds were pretty good. However, the odds had never been in his favor. He didn’t even begin to think he could deserve someone so young and pretty and sweet as Beth. If she was somehow the one meant to speak the word on his ribs, then he was determined to make sure she never said it. He had it pounded into his head by Merle that his soulmate was going to be disappointed when she discovered him. This made sense to him, the word on his side sure as hell didn’t sound like a happy response and it wasn’t no fucking confession, so his brother had to be right.
If Beth was so unlucky as to be his soulmate, he could see why she find him to be a huge letdown compared to whatever fantasy the blonde had in her head. The girl was sunshine and happiness and love and everything he wasn’t. Beth probably wasn’t his one, she just happened to be around and be the right age. He sure as hell hoped for his sake he wasn’t her soulmate, because the girl deserved so much better. Just in case though, he kept his distance, didn’t talk to her too much or get to know her. It wasn’t that hard, it wasn’t like he was a people person to begin with, wasn’t the type to run around confessing his love or staring mooney-eyed.
However, in order to see Judith, he undoubtedly also had to see Beth, who was essentially the child’s surrogate mother. It wasn’t that it was bad, he liked seeing both of the girls, listening to Beth singing as he rocked his asskicker in his arms. In fact, he liked it so much, felt so at home, but that in itself was a feeling he had never experienced before and it made him uncomfortable, unsure of what to do with himself. This time Beth was in the kitchen, trying to juggle Judith while also cooking. He paused for a moment, hidden behind the entrance before taking a deep breath and going for it.
“I’ll take her,” he offered, relieved to get some one-on-one time with his asskicker without having to deal with the pressure to talk.
“Thanks Daryl,” Beth said simply, giving him one of her smiles, he didn’t know smiling could be so bright and warm until he met her, “mind giving Judith her bottle? She is starting to get cranky.”
He simply grunts and walks over to a nearby table, hoisting the girl up with one arm and holding a bottle in the other. The formula is already mixed, he just has to let Judith suck on it. The hunter does this while watching Beth out of the corner of his eyes. She is young, but moves with a sense of purpose and efficiency that should belong to someone much older, much more experienced at running a household. The blonde seems to always be taking care of someone, usually Judith, but there isn’t a single person that she doesn’t try to help or say a kind word to. He guesses that with all that responsibility, she had to grow up. He knows what it is like to grow up when you should still have time left to be a kid. Hell, the hunter never had any chance to be a kid. All of a sudden, Beth is in front of him, holding out a jar of pickled vegetables with a slight blush on her face, interrupting his thoughts.
“Um, I couldn’t get it open,” she says, obviously embarrassed, “would you mind?”
He just nods his head, turns and lays Judy’s blanket on the table, before carefully setting the little girl on it. Then, he takes the jar from Beth. Right as he is popping the lid off, he sees something in the corner of his eye go flying, but his hands are full. Luckily, the blonde is faster and grabs the pacifier before it can fall to the ground, the motion putting her right up in his personal space, her legs between his, her chest grazing his arm, one hand on his chest for balance, causing him to jump. Anyone else he would rip their goddamn hand off for unexpectedly touching him, yell in their stupid fucking face for startling him like that. However, when Beth raises her big, blue, doe-like eyes to his, face blushing a dark red, her lips stammering an apology before she pulls back, he can’t find it in himself to get mad at her.
“Don’t worry about it,” he growls out, sounding a bit angry, but luckily Beth seems to read him just fine and gives him an appreciative smile and head nod that sets his nerves on end.
He picks up Judith again, wanting to pretend nothing ever happened, when he locks eyes with Hershel. Old man must have come into the room when they were both distracted over the pacifier. It is stupid, because they hadn’t been doing anything wrong, but he suddenly feels the urge to run, like a shotgun is going to appear in Hershel’s hands instead of crutches. Instead, Beth’s dad just gives him a short smile, before making his way over.
“How is Judith this evening,” he asks, sitting down beside the pair.
“She is a little trouble-maker,” Daryl accuses, his eyes glaring down at the baby, who just gurgles in response.
“That little one sure keeps my Beth busy,” Hershel agrees and Daryl doesn’t know what to say to that so he doesn’t say anything.
“Beth sure has grown into a fine young woman, her mother would be proud,” the older man continues, into even more dangerous territory, while Beth leaves them alone to go retrieve something from the prison pantry.
When Hershel’s eyes land on him, it is like he expects some response, so Daryl grunts, hoping that is enough.
“You are a good man Daryl,” Hershel suddenly announces, his changing of topics giving Daryl whiplash, maybe the man is getting senile and just rambling?
“Dunno about that,” he answers, wishing that he could erase his whole past life and be the kind of person everyone here at the prison seems to think he is.
“Well I do,” his companion insists, before launching into a story, making Daryl wonder exactly when Beth would return and hopefully save his ass, “I didn’t have an easy childhood, grew up with the kind of people that make you feel like you were born to not be good enough, I believed it for a long time. Until I meet Maggie’s mother. She and later Annette both pulled and pushed me kicking and screaming all the way to the man I am today. I never would have dreamed of becoming a family man, working on a farm, reading the Bible every night, would have laughed in your face back then if you had told me that is who I would become. Now, I can’t picture my life being any different.”
The hunter’s lips tighten into a frown. Hershel’s story sounds like some fucked-up, real-life fairy tale, too good to actually be true. Maybe the older man did have a rough childhood, but he was never a Dixon and being a Dixon wasn’t something Daryl could ever outrun, it followed him even into the apocalypse, it was in his blood.
“Do you know what I told Glenn when he asked to marry Maggie,” Hershel asks, yet again changing the topic.
“Why the fuck would I know that,” Daryl retorts, wanting nothing more than to escape, usually he didn’t mind Hershel but today the older man was acting very strange.
“I said that no man is ever good enough for my little girl,” Hershel tells him and that makes sense to Daryl, until he continues, “until there is one that is.”
The older man is staring at him, like this romance bullshit is supposed to mean something to him and it is about to make him snap when Beth finally comes back out of the damn pantry holding a box of whatever she was looking for.
“How are you doodlebug,” Hershel asks, his serious tone dropping away and leaving their conversation in the dust, which is a relief for Daryl.
“I’m just fine daddy,” the young woman reassures her father, “thankfully Daryl is watching Judith, I don’t know how else I would get everything done. I love her, but she is being a bit of a terror lately, probably because she is teething.”
The two chatter away, leaving the archer thankfully in silence to just observe and listen, without needing to have any input. The strange conversation stays with him though and he thinks over it sometimes when he is sitting up on the guard tower. He thinks about what Hershel said, about all the coincidences that Beth happens to share with his soul words, and then in the end he always pushes it all away, making himself believe that none of it could possibly mean anything. Things go on like this until the horrible day when the Governor appears again, with new followers, and takes out the prison and Hershel. Suddenly, he is running to find her, searching frantically for the blonde head among the strangers and fire and destruction, because he knows deep down that she is his soulmate, even if he won’t admit it to himself, much less to Beth. Relief floods him when he sees her standing there, gun in hand, crying in front of an empty baby basket.
“We gotta go Beth,” he tells her as he runs up and grabs her hand, physically hauling her away and towards the woods, towards safety, “we gotta go.”
Beth’s POV
It didn’t matter if Daryl was her soulmate, it didn’t matter if he felt the same way about her, because Beth was falling for him. In the middle of the pain and loss and heartbreak, Daryl was the light holding off her darkness. The blonde wanted to sink into a coma, end it all, like she had tried back at the farm, but then the hunter would let her lead some stupid search for alcohol, go along with her burning down a house, or show her how to use his crossbow, and it was like there was something worth living for. Despite everything, she is sure he only sees her as a silly, incapable girl. However, sometimes Beth thinks she is starting to change his mind. There was no mistaking the look of pride when she shot her first rabbit and skinned it. Daryl took her opinions into consideration when making plans now, they were becoming more like a team.
The silent man had opened up a few times and now even when he was quiet, she was starting to be able to read him. Those blue eyes of his gave everything away if anyone dared look directly into them. Right now he was the one watching her though, his hawk-like gaze following her hand as he held a jar of food with the spoon half raised.
“Whatcha writing,” he asks, his voice raspy like always.
“A thank you card,” she explains, glancing up.
“Why,” the archer spits out, his brow furrowing.
“For when they come back,” Beth continues, “if they come back….even if they are not coming back I want to thank them.”
There is a pregnant pause and the blonde is about to go back to writing, assuming that Daryl has lapsed back into silence when he speaks again, uncertainty in his voice and his gaze glued to his hands.
“Maybe you don’t have to leave that,” he suggests quietly, hiding behind his long hair, “maybe we stick around for a while, if they come back we just make it work.”
“It may be nuts,” he immediately adds in his normal negative attitude, before clearing his throat and finishing, “but maybe it will be alright.”
Beth feels like her jaw could drop. She had been surprised when Daryl went along with her crazy plan to burn the shack down and the fact that he let her use his crossbow when she asked to learn, but this was in a completely different league.
“So, you do still think there are good people,” she states more than asks, her lips pulling into a smile.
“What changed your mind,” she pushes, because she can feel him closing off, pulling away from her, which means that the archer must have some important meaning to his words to get this shy.
“You know,” he shrugs, spooning the pig’s feet into his mouth, as if hoping the conversation was over.
“What,” the blonde continues, feeling like she is on the edge of understanding something important.
“Mmmm,” he mumbles, looking down at his spoon, which holds all of his interest.
“Don’t ‘mmmm’,” she teases, mimicking him, which pulls an almost grin from his mouth, “what changed your mind?”
Beth is sure he is going to change the subject or storm off, so she is surprised when the archer looks up, opening up his blue eyes to her and staring at her like she is the reason he changed his mind.
“Oh,” she breathes, as everything starts clicking, falling into place.
This was how she could tell the difference between a regular mumble and ‘I love you’ mumble, Daryl’s eyes. Despite how much teasing she had received, in that moment, the way Daryl had just put everything on the line without saying anything, it was the most romantic thing she had ever heard. Before she could reply, show him her soulword, which was his word, there was a bark. Instantly, the hunter was out of the chair, obviously desperate to escape the situation.
“I’m gonna give that mutt one last chance,” he growls, plopping his spoon down on the table and heaving himself up, walking towards the door.
Beth can’t help but smile watching him go. None of this is what she ever pictured, walkers, separated from her family, the gruff man that she now knew she loved, none of this was anything like how she had dreamed but somehow in this moment it was perfect. When Daryl got back, she would show him her soulword on her ribs, explain that she felt the same way. He might get embarrassed and storm out or not say anything, but after a few days, Beth thinks the archer will warm up to the idea of them being soulmates. Not without some kicking and screaming along the way, but this is Daryl Dixon after all. She grins down at the paper she was writing on and no longer needs to finish. Happily, she sets the pen down and is about to go check on if Daryl and the dog when she hears it.
“Beth,” hollers Daryl.
She knows that yell. It isn’t angry or mad or sad, it is desperate, it is scared, it is the one all of them have had to use before when they are fighting for their lives. Just like that, all dreams of living in this house fall away, the magical moment when she found her soulmate ends. Grabbing Daryl’s crossbow, Beth tosses it to Daryl, who is struggling to keep the door closed as walkers pile against it.
“Get your shit,” Daryl yells, his feet sliding, “and run!”
“I’m not leaving you,” she sobs as she slings both their packs over her back.
“Get out,” he snarls, “meet me at the road.”
Just like that, Daryl flies past her into the house, walkers on his heels. They are focused on him, but will soon notice her. With her stupid sprained ankle, she can’t be much help. Angry at how useless she feels, the blonde yanks the window open and tumbles out onto the ground, taking a moment to orient herself before realizing that there is a man standing in front of her in a police uniform. It is strange to see something that had once been so ordinary. It reminds her of Rick, how he used to wear his uniform, but this man’s face doesn’t look kind or protective like Rick’s, it looks hungry.
“Why aren’t you a pretty one,” the man comments, a smirk coming to his face, but Beth doesn’t hang around, she turns and sprints for the road.
She can hear the man behind her chasing, all she can think is to get to the road, maybe somehow she can stay away from her pursuer long enough for Daryl to find her. She used to be on the track team but her bad ankle slows her down. In the end it doesn’t matter, because another man pops out behind a tree and the blonde can see a baton swinging at her head and then everything goes black.
Daryl’s POV
Daryl is laying on a mattress, hands behind his head, looking up at the ceiling, when a slight knock on his door breaks the silence. He grunts and the doorknob turns, revealing a blonde head and pale skin. Blue eyes look back at him. He breathes a sigh of relief.
Ever since they rescued Beth from Grady, just seeing her feels like a miracle. The scars on her forehead and cheek remind him of how bad he had failed her, despite the fact that the young woman has already insisted that she doesn’t blame him. They didn’t have much time to talk out on the road, but she had made that clear, because she knew how mad he was at himself for her kidnapping. Most of the time, they had scouted ahead together, slept side by side at night, and took down walkers by working in sync.
Now that they were in Alexandria, with their own house, they finally had the chance to relax. Except, Daryl couldn’t relax with Beth in another room, he hadn’t been apart from her since Grady but he couldn’t find the words to tell her this, nor did he feel like he had any right to. Sleeping beside each other outside was different, everyone sort of piled up together, but in a house with distinct rooms and beds, it just didn’t feel the same. So, when she left her own room with Maggie and Glenn and came to him, after he had been laying sleepless for hours, he released tension he had been holding ever since she disappeared from his sight.
“You mind,” comes Beth’s soft voice as she hovers by the door.
He shakes his head and the blonde slips in, shutting the door behind her quietly. The light from the streetlights allow him to see everything despite the light being off in his room. He sits up and swings his feet onto the floor as she makes her way over.
“Everything alright,” he asks, even though a part of him knows she didn’t come to him because something is wrong.
“Yeah,” she answers, “everything seems better than it has been in a while. I just….it doesn’t feel right sleeping apart, I’m so used to knowing you are right there and I feel safer with you around.”
“Unhunh,” he agrees, but doesn’t say more, because he never can.
He wants to pull Beth into his bed, kiss the daylights out of her, and sleep with her in his arms, right where she belongs. However, he had made a promise to himself to never tell his soulmate anything, to never confess, and he knows for sure she is his soulmate now. He had wondered for a long time, but back at the funeral home he had been sure.
He hadn’t told her anything of course, because the idea of Beth turning him down hurt and he knew it couldn’t go any other way. However, there was one point, when he had mentioned staying at the funeral home and unintentionally revealed that he thought good people still existed, that for a moment he had considered that Beth felt the same way. He can still remember how intently the blonde had been looking at him, the way she breathed the word ‘oh’, her eyelids fluttering and her cheeks heating up. She had probably just been flattered by the fact that she had changed his mind about good people existing, nothing more. Somehow though, he had felt at that moment that the ‘oh’ hadn’t been just another word but the word, the one tattooed on his side. Because that was the moment he was sure that he didn’t just like Beth, he loved her. Luckily, she still didn’t know how he felt and he would do anything to keep it that way. He could handle disappointing a lot of people, but not her, not Beth.
“Yeah,” he finds his voice, pulling himself out of his head and grabbing a pillow to move onto the floor, “just a sec, I will get out of the way so you can have the bed.”
“Where are you going to sleep,” Beth asks him, sounding confused.
“On the floor,” he answers, as he throws his pillow and an extra blanket on the floor, only for them to be picked back up by the young woman and set back on the mattress.
“I’m not here to kick you out of your bed,” the blonde insists, “we can share the bed, it isn’t like we haven’t slept side by side before.”
He twitches at the idea, how much he likes it, but he can’t. He can’t just do things like sleep in the same bed as Beth and not get ideas, he already feels too much for her, it is becoming harder and harder to act normal around her. He doesn’t think he can push himself much more and not find himself breaking down and telling her. It is funny, because he has never had trouble staying quiet around people before, but with Beth it is like sometimes she pulls this talkative side out of him, he wants to tell her his thoughts and memories.
“Ain’t the same,” he argues, grabbing Beth’s wrist as she starts to spread the blanket back out.
“Is there something wrong with it being different,” the blonde asks, her voice a bit quieter and almost confused, “I thought you felt……”
Now Daryl is confused as well. Did he blurt out something when he and Beth had drank moonshine? Did he talk in his sleep? How in the hell would she know? And if she knew why in the world is she crawling in bed with him instead of staying the fuck away from his creepy ass?
“Felt what way,” he almost growls, hoping that maybe somehow this is a misunderstanding.
Fear grips his chest, he had just gotten Beth back, he doesn’t want to scare her off if she finds out they are soulmates. Doesn’t want things between them to change.
“I thought you felt the same way about me as I felt about you,” the blonde explains, causing his mind to whirl.
She can’t be saying what he thinks she is saying, there is no way.
“And what is that,” he asks suspiciously, not wanting to get his hopes up for even a second.
The blonde is quiet for a moment, seeming to contemplate how to explain. Then, he can see a glimmer of determination in her eyes as she lets go of the blanket and leans in, pressing her lips to his. For a second he freezes, his brain not computing what is happening, but then it finally sinks in. She means exactly what he wants her to mean.
Daryl cups the back of Beth’s head and pulls her closer, deepening the kiss. All of his senses are tingling, he can smell how fresh the blonde is after her shower. Her hair is just as soft as he thought it would be, her lips are even softer though, melding to his.
When they finally break apart, they only move a couple inches away from each other, both panting and staring. Those big, blue eyes of hers are blown wide and her cheeks are even pinker than before. God, she is perfect.
“So,” Beth asks after a moment, “is it okay if it is different?”
He can only nod and she crawls in bed. His heart is still beating way too fast and his head is insisting that he must be dreaming, but after some time, he lays back down beside Beth. She leans her back against him and Daryl wraps an arm around her. Finally, he is able to fall asleep.
A pounding on the door wakes him up. Grunting, he opens one eye to find his head buried in Beth’s golden hair. For a moment, he forgets that he has a visitor and that he needs to get up because she is so beautiful beside him, still asleep. Her shirt had worked its way up over the night and he is about to pull it down when he sees it. Four letters across her ribs, the same spot as his, ‘mmmm’. He almost chuckles out loud. After all that time trying not to say anything, determined that if he didn’t confess then she would never know, it turns out he didn’t really have to say much of anything for the blonde to know how he felt about her. There was also no way that word could belong to anyone else. Beth and he were definitely soulmates.
“Hey,” exclaims Maggie as she gives up knocking and just barges right in, “I can’t find Beth and I need you to help……..”
The brunette trails off as Daryl quickly withdraws his hand and sits up, Beth waking up and turning over to glare at her sister. Glenn runs into the room only to almost collide with Maggie as his eyes go wide.
“I should have known,” Maggie suddenly announces as she gets over the shock, “no one else would mumble their love, how many times have I told you to use your words Daryl Dixon?”