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The gun goes off, and Beth feels the whole world explode. She sees flashes of colors she does not have names for, hears metal in her ears and tastes blood in her mouth and for something like seventeen seconds, she is absolutely, one-hundred-percent positive that she is dead. Like, alright, then, this is it, this is how I go, huh? That’s a shame. Least I went out with a bang, though, right?
And then she feels herself hit the cold, hard tile floor. She feels dull, throbbing pain in every single inch of her body and that, that means that she isn’t dead, right, when you’re dead you stop feeling it? So maybe she’s just dying. Something warm curls around her shoulders, and she hears: beth beth beth beth beth. And yes, she thinks, yes this is definitely dying. She is dying, and this is the warmth, the light, the angel here to carry her away. She likes his voice, this angel, likes the way he says her name.
Then something wet hits her face. Something scalding hot. She hears another voice, one she thinks that she might recognize. “Daryl,” the voice says. It’s a woman, it’s... Carol, maybe? “Daryl, it’s okay. Daryl, she’s breathing.”
Daryl. Oh, oh she gets it now. The arms holding her, the soft place that she lays. It’s no angel, no heaven, it’s better. It’s Daryl. Her throat feels like it’s made of glass, but she pushes a word out: “Daryl...?”
He throws himself around her. He hugs her so tight that she thinks she might shatter, might leave shards of herself embedded bloody in his skin. He is violently crying. “Beth,” he says. “Beth I’m sorry, I’m sorry I let them take you, I’m sorry I fucked up just please, please don’t leave me, please I’m sorry, Beth, Beth...”
She wants to hug him back but it hurts too bad. “Daryl,” she says again. It comes out in just a whisper. “Daryl, it’s... I... You...”
And then the world seems to snap back into place. She’s in Daryl’s arms, on the floor of the hospital hallway. Carol and Noah, stand above them, tears in their eyes. She’s not dead. She’s alive and she’s with him. Oh, that’s good. She lifts her head, watches the lines of the room form, watches reality take its shape—
and it’s just in time to hear the next gunshot ring. To hear Sasha scream and see Tyreese’s body fall.
——
Three weeks clinging to hope and it’s gone in an instant.
Richmond is a dead end. A ghost town. Noah’s community was destroyed only-God-knows-how-long-ago, and all that’s left now is dead bodies and debris. Beth kills the walker that used to be Noah’s little brother— because Noah can’t do it, and somebody has to— and they pillage the place for supplies and then they leave. With their last remaining truck, they decide to go towards DC. It might not be the game-changer Eugene had pretended it was, but it’s a destination at least.
In some ways, Beth thinks, it’s not that different from that winter on the road. They find food where they can, shelter where they can, vehicles when they need them. They sleep huddled up by weak campfires or in the back seats of abandoned cars. In spite of everything, they survive.
But when Beth thinks about that winter, what she remembers most is Daddy. Daddy and his gentle reassurances, telling her that she could do it, that she was brave and she was strong. Daddy sharing the last of his food when she was hungry, his blankets when she was cold. Daddy reciting bible verses over the fire, Daddy asking her to sing. He always made her feel like her voice was still worth something.
Daddy got her through that winter. And now he’s just gone.
And Tyreese is gone too. And that’s all her fault.
Beth is no stranger to depression. Even before everything, she’d been prone to this. In eighth grade, when Cindy Prescott decided that she was the ugliest girl in class and made sure that everyone knew it, Beth spent months crying uncontrollably and struggling to get out of bed. Mama took her to a therapist, and it helped and she thought she was done with this. And then the world ended and it turned out she definitely wasn’t.
Beth feels like she’s floating outside of her body. Like she’s trapped in a mirror, watching herself and blinded by tricks of the light. She’s also got a concussion, she’s pretty sure, from the bullet or maybe from hitting the floor. There’s a dull, throbbing pain that never leaves her head, and she’s dizzy and her ears are ringing and everything is difficult. She follows the group as best she can, speaking as little as possible and just trying to keep her feet on the ground.
Maggie tries to help her, to cheer her on the way that Mama or Daddy would. “Bethy, why don’t you sing something?” she'll say into the smoke of the campfire. “I know I’d love to hear it.”
“I would too,” Glenn will chime in. “And I’m sure Judith would be glad to have a lullaby.”
But Beth can’t sing. Singing comes from a place deep down under her ribcage, the place where her heart meets her lungs and her blood meets her breath. Singing comes from inside. But right now the only thing that’s inside of her is glass. She shakes her head and feeds a handful of wood chips to the fire.
Later she rolls out her sleeping bag on the far side of their camp. Daryl sleeps next to her, just like he has every night since Atlanta. And they aren’t doing it on purpose— she doesn’t think they are anyway— but it’s cold and his body is warm and it just seems to happen. They start out maybe a foot apart, and then they inch closer together until they’re touching. And she’ll slip a knee over his thigh and he’ll tug at her shoulders and then...
She wakes up every morning with his arms around her back and her face in his neck. He runs scalding hot, and she can feel every beat of his pulse, feel the life that burns red in his veins and it’s almost enough. Almost enough to get her own heart back into rhythm, almost enough to keep her warm the whole day long.
And then she sits up, and she sees Sasha on the other side of the camp and Sasha looks back with daggers in her eyes.
And Beth goes cold as a corpse all over again.
——
A week after Richmond they run out of food.
Hardly a day later they run out of fuel. They’ve got no choice now but to walk. And no matter how tough he talks, Beth’s not sure Rick really knows where they’re walking to. They’re good as dead, she thinks, and he’s just kidding himself with anything more.
They don’t even take most of their stuff with them, it’s too much to carry. They just walk. They walk down a road that seems to lead nowhere, towards a horizon of nothing but pavement and trees. It is hot, which is only going to dehydrate them quicker. Beth trudges towards the back of the group, squinting against the sun and the headache that it’s giving her.
Carl comes up next to her, and pulls something out of his bag “I found this,” he says, handing it to her. “While we were looking for water.”
It’s a jewelry box, made of metal rusting green metal with fading flowers painted on the side. Beth had one just like it as a kid. When she opens it up there’s a mirror inside, and a tiny blonde ballerina on a spring. She has a pink top and a fluffy white tutu. She should dance, Beth knows, but she doesn’t.
“I think it used to play music,” Carl says. “Thought you might like it.”
God, he’s such a sweet kid. Beth forces herself to smile at him. “Thank you,” she says. “That was really nice.”
Carl paces ahead, and Beth falls into step with Noah. In spite of his bad leg, Noah usually moves faster than anyone else in the group. But today even he’s been beaten down to a crawl.
“How are you feeling?” she asks.
“I’m okay,” he says. “Nothing hurts too much right now. You?”
She is hurting like hell. She shakes her head.
“Pain scale?” Noah asks.
Pain scale? Guess you can take boy outta the hospital but... “A million.”
Noah laughs and gives her a light punch on the arm. “Pain scale’s one to ten, dummy.”
Beth kind of wants to laugh too, but she can't get it out. Her smile, at least, feels less forced this time. “Six,” she decides. “Seven if I look at the light too much.”
Noah nods. “Seven’s okay,” he says. “We can work with a seven.”
They’d have to work with it even if it was a ten. But she respects his optimism. “Thanks,” she says.
“We should find you some sunglasses,” he suggests.
“Yeah, that might help.”
Daryl’s been walking up front with Rick, but he circles back now, crossbow in hand. “Hey,” he says. “I’m gonna go out in the woods for a bit, see what I can find. You wanna come with?”
He’s staring at her with eyes like a sad puppy and Beth has to look at the ground. God, what is wrong with her? She’s jerking this guy off in her sleeping bag every night and then the sun comes up and she can hardly look at his face. “No thanks.”
“You sure?” he asks. “Or maybe you wanna take a turn carrying the baby? She prob’ly misses you—“
She shouldn’t miss me. “No,” Beth says. And maybe she says it too sharp or too quick, because Daryl sucks in a breath and now she’s worried that she’s spooked him.
“I just mean...” she says. “My head’s been bad today. What if I dropped her?”
“You wouldn’t...”
And then she looks up at him, and it’s like they’re back at the funeral home. At their kitchen table scattered with junk food and candles, the moonlight drifting in through the windows and he turns his head and... that, that is why she cannot look at him.
She presses a hand to her mouth. “Just not right now, okay?”
But it doesn’t really matter if she looks at him or not, she sees his face either way. “Okay,” he relents. “But if you need anything, you come find me, a’right?”
They both know full well that she will not do that. “I will,” she tells him. He squeezes her shoulder before he goes, and she feels it like a flash of pain.
——
They’re being followed by a herd.
Like, of course they are. What else should they have expected? They live in hell, and hell only ever keeps going.
They’re too weary to fight and it’s not worth the bullets anyway. So they try to ignore them. To walk just fast enough to be literally out-running death.
Then they come to a bridge. It’s flat and straight, made out of wood that’s gone all grey and green and mossy. It crosses over a ravine— a hollow slope of land overflowing with dirt and weeds. It was probably a stream once, but now it’s gone dry.
Still, it’s a steep drop to the ground and they can use that to their advantage. The plan is for the strongest of them— Rick, Abraham, Michonne, Glenn, Sasha, Maggie— to stand by the corners of the bridge, wait until the walkers come close and then shove them right down into the chasm. Beth and the rest of them get to wait on the other side. To do nothing and hope that nothing goes wrong. It feels a little like getting picked last in gym, or watching from across the room as some mean girl sticks her foot out just to make another girl fall flat on her face. Beth was always the kid who cried when that happened.
Rick catches one first. A shambling, growling dead man in a bloodstained shirt. He almost lunges for Rick, but Rick throws him aside with relative ease. Glenn gets one next, then Maggie. Abraham wrestles them two at a time.
It’s a good plan, and it seems like they’ll be able to get rid of the whole herd this way. And so Beth watches as Sasha walks up to one, let’s it come close too close and grabs it by the neck and—
The second Sasha unsheathes her knife Beth starts to panic. Sasha stabs the walker in the head and Beth feels a crack like lightning against her skull. Rick says something she can’t make out, and the others draw their weapons and Beth is holding her mouth to keep from screaming.
Daryl, she thinks. Where’s Daryl, why isn’t he back yet, what—
And then Daryl bursts out of the woods. Right on cue, like somehow he knew they were in trouble. That’s some wolfish sixth sense of his, isn’t it? He can feel danger in his spine and then he always throws himself right into it.
He’s done that for her more times than she can count.
Beth watches as they finish off the rest of the walkers, leaving a mess of blood and brain matter on the empty street. She watches as Michonne reprimands Sasha for breaking the plan. She gasps for air as Sasha stares Michonne down, her knife still glinting and blood-soaked in her hand.
That’s what happens when you throw yourself into the danger, she thinks.
Daryl crosses over the bridge, walks right to her. “Hey,” he says. “You okay?”
Like she’s too weak to handle anything. She almost says something sharp to him—of course I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be okay? Why do you always assume that I’m not okay? But then his hand brushes against her shoulder, and she realizes that she is shaking.
It’s a horrible relief when Judith starts crying. At least she’s not the only one who’s falling apart.
——
They find the cluster of cars not long after.
Four of them, parked in a jagged line that crosses the pavement. For a split second Beth almost feels something like hope rising in her chest— cars means safety, supplies, people. But then she gets a closer look, and realizes they’re abandoned.
Beth approaches the smallest one. It’s quiet and non-descript, a totally average, boring car that could’ve belonged to anyone. Beth thinks it must’ve been silver once, but now it’s so covered in dirt and mildew and time, horrible time, that it’s nothing but a lifeless grey. It’s probably been sitting here a long while.
Beth opens the driver’s side door so she can search inside. The keys are in the ignition, but there’s nothing in the seats, or the cup holder or the storage under the armrest. She tries the glove compartment but only finds papers. License and registration, how goddamn useless now. Beth vaguely remembers passing her drivers test just months before the turn. She’d been so proud of herself.
She slides back out of the car and practically slams the door shut. Another stupid useless empty piece of junk, what a waste, what a... She decides to try the trunk, just in case, even though she knows it’ll be empty too. Everything’s fucking empty, everyone is fucking gone. She throws the trunks open—
And there’s a walker inside.
It’s a woman, wearing red pants and a bloodstained floral shirt. Her eyes are blue and what’s left of her hair is a brittle blonde. Its impossible to tell how old she was beyond “far too young”. She grinds her teeth and growls, and that’s when Beth sees the rag in her mouth. She was gagged.
Beth can feel her own mouth going dry. Not just gagged. There are rags tied around her wrists, her ankles. The bruises and cuts on her hands and feet stand out somehow from all the other blemishes on her rotting skin. They are unmistakable signs of a struggle. Someone did this to her. Someone did this.
The memories come in a sudden gust. Night, on the side of the road, cold air and darkness and quiet. She keeps listening for walkers, for the hoard that swarmed their safe haven, for him, some sign of him, some sign he’s coming. But there’s nothing. There’s nothing there. There’s silence. She almost turns back, almost runs to him, almost...
And then the ground starts to rattle. The wind rushes, she hears a car horn, a crash, everything goes white and—
hands on her neck, lollipops, stifled screams, blood pain explosions, Tyreese —
“Beth.”
Someone touches her arm, and then she’s in the present again. It’s Glenn, looking at her with so much sweet brotherly concern and she thinks she might throw up.
“Hey,” he says. “Are you alright?”
At some point she must’ve slammed the trunk shut, because the hood’s down again and she’s bent over grasping the spoiler with both hands. “Um, yeah,” she says, gasping for air with each word. “Yeah. I just. Um. There’s a walker in there.”
“Okay,” Glenn says gently. “Do you want me to get it?”
Do you want me to get it? God, there it is again. He makes it sound like she’s a little girl too scared to squash a spider. Like she’s helpless. Like she can’t do anything for herself.
Except this time he’s right. She can’t open the trunk again. She can’t do it. There’s no way.
“Yes,” she says.
Beth looks away, but she still hears it. The trunk clicking open, the walker snarling and thrashing. The squelch of that poor girl’s brain, when Glenn sticks a knife through her skull.
——
Finally they stop to rest, sitting down on the side of the road in a dry patch of moss and leaves. Beth just about collapses onto the ground, and it takes the last of her strength just to pull herself up and lean her back against a tree. She shuts her eyes and feels her head pound. She’s starting to think the pain might just crack her in two.
Yeah, they’re stopping to rest. And pray to God that’s not the same thing as stopping to die.
No one’s found any water, but Abraham found a goddamn bottle of whiskey. Beth watches him gulp it down and it makes her stomach thick with jealousy— wow, what she wouldn’t give to be wasted right now.
Daryl had gone looking for food again, but he comes back empty handed now. He sits down, right next to Beth, his crossbow slung over his shoulder. He looks at her, blue eyes tired and soft and so sweet and, Good Lord, all Beth wants to do is drop her head into his lap, to wrap herself up in him and fall asleep there. It would be so easy. It would feel so good. She might still die of thirst, but at least she’d be warm.
But she can’t. She can’t, she can’t even touch him. Not right here in the light of day. Not when he’s looks at her like that.
The dogs take them all by surprise. The growling starts, loud and angry and for a moment Beth honestly thinks that it might be someone’s stomach— that’s how hungry we are. When a pack of dogs leaps from the woods, she thinks maybe she’s delusional.
It’s not until Daryl tenses beside her that Beth realizes the pack of dogs is very real, very in front of them and very dangerous. They’re big, wolf-like with dirty fur and snarling jaws. One of them has blood all down his stomach.
Daryl reaches for his knife, and positions himself so that he’s between Beth and the dogs. He blocks her completely, his chest rumbling, body hunched on all fours. He’s like an animal himself, acting on nothing but instinct.
He would throw himself into a pack of wolves for me, she thinks, and it would be nothing but instinct.
He doesn’t have to, ultimately. Because the dogs start to growl, bark, loom for the attack... but instead, they are torn down by a torrent of bullets. Beth looks up to see Sasha, gun smoking in her hand, and then she looks away just as quickly. Looks at the dogs, now lying dead on the ground. One of them, she notices, has a collar.
He was someone’s pet.
She looks at Daryl, still on high-alert in front of her, hairs pricked up on the back of his neck and she has a sudden, awful vision of him lying dead. Devoured by the wolves.
Here they all were thinking they’d tamed some feral creature in him. But maybe he’d be better off if they hadn’t.
——
They build a fire and roast the dogs.
Beth thinks that this might be a new low for them. Eating dog, eating somebody’s pet, no matter how wild it had gone. Somehow it seems so much worse than eating deer or squirrel. She picks at her portion with her hands but she can’t get much down.
Daryl is not having this problem. He scarfs down his food, grease and charcoal dripping all over his fingers. He nudges Beth in the ribs. “Eat up, girl.”
And she tries to, she really does. Takes a bite and lets the dry meat scrape down her throat. It tastes chalky and burnt, and her stomach is numb with a hunger she can’t feel anymore. She is empty beyond wanting food, so empty maybe she’ll disappear.
“Gotta eat, girl, c’mon,” Daryl tries again. She shakes her head, and he adds “Beth.”
That’s when Judith starts to cry again. Lately Beth thinks maybe she was right— maybe that baby really can sense people’s moods. Maybe she’s crying to bail Beth out. Maybe she’s trying to help.
Carl bounces his sister up and down. “It’s okay,” he tells her. “It’s okay, Jude, everything is gonna be okay.”
But he can’t calm her down. Carl rocks and coos and cuddles her but nothing works. Judith just keeps crying and crying like she might never stop. Finally he looks at Beth, exasperated
“Can you try?” he asks.
Can she try? The question makes Beth’s heart jolt. Six months ago he wouldn’t have even needed to ask. She would’ve taken Judith into her arms the moment that she started fussing, hugged and kissed and loved her until everything was right. Six months ago she would have done anything to make Judith happy, would’ve kept that baby safe and warm even if it killed her. Six months ago she was practically Judith’s mother.
She tries to say yes, but the sounds that comes out is barely more than a breath. Judith wails and the pain in Beth’s head is like an electric shock, she found luke’s shoes in woods, she went looking for the kids and all she found was—
She can’t. She can’t, she shakes her head and looks away in shame.
Daryl rises to his feet. “I got her,” he tells Carl, as he sits down next to him, “you eat.” He takes Judith in his arms and holds her close to his chest.
“Why you cryin’, Little Asskicker,” he murmurs. “Gotta stop that, y’hear? Gonna make us all sad.”
He’s got some magic way with her— always has, since that first day he fed her her first bottle. Judith’s cries settle down to a whimper, to quiet tears. Beth shivers, but she doesn’t dare go closer to the fire.
——
Soon they’re on the move again. Rick takes the lead, with Abraham and Daryl bringing up the rear and the rest of them shambling between. They trudge aimlessly down the road, even slower than before. Its hot and sunny and the sky is wide and brilliant blue, and in some other life this would be a beautiful day. As it stands though, Beth’s decided that she hates the color blue. If the sky were blood red at least that would be honest.
Beth walks in-between Glenn and Maggie, and it’s not lost on her that this particular cluster of people represents an immediate family. The last of the Senoia Greenes, a name that is going to die out unceremoniously somewhere on this unmarked road.
Well, actually, she and Maggie are both girls so really the name already died with Shawn.
Glenn has a half-bottle of water left, and he passes it to Maggie. She takes a sip without a word, then holds the bottle out to Beth. “Bethy, take a drink,” she says.
Beth looks at the shallow stream of water and can only see the dirt inside. She shakes her head. “I’m fine.”
“Bethy,” Maggie insists. She’s got a tone like a parent scolding a kid who won’t eat their vegetables, and suddenly Beth wants to scream. She can't stop herself.
“I said I’m fine!” she snaps. “And I don’t need you hovering all the time! I’m not a child, I’m not Judith, I can take care of myself!”
Maggie’s eyes narrow like she might say something sharp, but Glenn cuts in first. “Beth, we’re just trying to help—“
“I don’t need your help!” Beth exclaims. “And I don’t need you babying me. I’m not stupid, I know we’re all gonna die, and one stupid sip of water isn’t gonna change that! Nothing is going to change that! I don’t—"
She cuts herself, when she sees that the rest of the group is starting to stare. They are looking at her with big sad eyes, even this godforsaken outburst of hers isn’t enough to make the big sad eyes just go away. She doesn’t turn around to see it, but can feel Daryl looking at her and she knows that his eyes are the biggest and the saddest of them all. Yeah, she hates the color blue alright.
“I’m going for a walk,” she declares.
She turns on her heel and storms off into the woods, choosing the direction at random. She doesn’t know where she’s going, she just knows that she wants to be as far away from everybody else as possible. Maybe she’ll get lost and end up halfway across whatever hell-house state they happen to be in, die of hunger all by her damn self in some abandoned nowhere, yeah that would serve her right. That’s what she goddamn deserves...
She’s hardly taken ten steps when she hears someone chasing after her. “Beth!” Daryl shouts. “Beth!”
Yeah, of course it’d be him. She keeps walking, kicking up dirt and leaves and snapping twigs with every stomp of her boots. “Go away, Daryl!” she shouts back
“I ain’t going nowhere!” he exclaims. Beth’s anger had made her fast but he’s still faster, and he catches up with her easily. He grabs for her shoulder but she pushes him away.
“Fuck off!”
“Beth!”
She shoves through the trees, twigs and leaves catching in her hair until finally she hits a clearing. Daryl reaches for her again, and this time she turns around.
“What do you want?” she snaps.
Daryl’s nostrils flare. “What do I want? Wanna know what your fucking problem is, huh? Fucking yelling at your sister, stormin’ off like that? What the hell, Beth?”
“What’s it matter?” He’s got her backed into a tree, somehow blocking her from moving with just one arm and she glares at him with three weeks worth of fury. “What does any of this matter?”
He’s glaring back. “Matters that you aren’t eating,” he says. “Aren’t drinking, won’t hold the baby. You’re fucking letting yourself die—“
Beth scoffs. “We’re all dying anyway—“
“No, you are!” Daryl exclaims. “Rest of us are tryna live, and we’re tryna help you live—“
“Well you shouldn’t!” Beth snaps.
Daryl slams a hand against the tree behind her head, so hard that it rattles. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”
And then Beth can’t hold it in any more. When she tries to speak she screams. “It means maybe you should just let me die!”
Her throat’s so dry that it feels like she’s got claws in there, like every word comes scratching up bile and blood. She can’t stop it. “Just leave!” she screams. “Just go, just let me die here!”
Daryl screams right back. “Why the fuck would you even say something like that?”
God, how the hell is he this stupid? “Because you need to!” she shouts. “You need to, all I do is hold you up, I hold everyone up, I’m weak, I’m weak and so you should just leave me, it’s what I deserve, you should have left me at the hospital, if you had just left me there than Tyreese wouldn’t—“
It happens in an instant. He wraps his arms around her, pulls her into him with a force like gravity. Her breath hitches, face colliding with his shoulder, and then she’s falling apart in his arms but he holds her in one piece.
“I’m the reason he’s dead,” she says. She chokes around the words and so her hold her closer. She can feel him shaking his head.
And she tries to say something again, to keep beating it into him that she’s a monster, a murderer, it’s all her fault. She tries but nothing comes out. She gasps and sobs but there’s no tears, she can’t cry. Why can’t she just cry? She used to cry all the time and now she can’t cry at all and either way she feels broken.
But Daryl’s not broken. Daryl holds her tight against his chest while she dry heaves, rocks her back and forth slowly and presses his nose into her hair. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t have to, just holds her. As long as she needs. He would hold her here forever if he had to, she knows that. He’ll be holding her as long as they’re both alive.
——
There’s a barn in the clearing. That’s the first thing Beth notices, for whatever reason, when she finally calms down enough to see straight. A barn, and a worn-in trail wandering into the distance. This was somebody’s land once. Someone lived here.
Daryl doesn’t say anything to her as they walk back to the road, but Beth can tell that he wants to. That there’s something inside him itching to come out, if only he had the words. He touches her on the shoulder a few times, and that must be as close as he can get.
The second Beth spots the group she can tell somethings wrong. They’re all standing around too still, too quiet. They all turn their heads simultaneously as Beth and Daryl approach them. Rick takes a few steps their way and hands Daryl a piece of paper. “From a friend”, it reads, and that’s when Beth sees it: a cluster of plastic water bottles, standing upright in the middle of the road.
Daryl immediately readies his bow, scans the area for whoever left it. But there’s no one. Everyone stands circled awkwardly a few feet away from the bottles, like it’s a bomb and they’re waiting for it blow. Finally Tara speaks up:
“What else are we gonna do?”
“Not this,” Rick replies. “We don’t know who left it.”
Eugene’s gaze is fixed on the water. “If that’s a trap, we already happen to be in it,” he says. “And I for one would like to think it is indeed from a friend.”
“What if it isn’t?” Carol asks. “What if they put something in it?”
But evidently Eugene’s willing to take that chance. He lunges forward, grabs a bottle of water over Rosita and Tara’s protests:
“Eugene!”
“What are you doing, dude?”
He unscrews the cap, lifts the bottle up ready to chug it down… and then Abraham smacks it out of his hand.
“We can’t,” Rick says again.
So this is the choice, then. Take a risk and trust the world that has done nothing but betray them, or die of thirst with the thing could save them sitting right there in front their eyes. It’s almost comical. Shakespearean. Really, it’s too bad there’ll be no one left to tell this tale.
And then a miracle happens.
There a crack of thunder first, and then another, and then the sky opens up all at once. The rain comes down fast and heavy and cool and within seconds they are all soaked. Beth’s not sure who starts laughing first but soon enough they all are, voices rumbling in time with the thunder. They lift their faces up to drink. Beth turns her head to look at Daryl, at the raindrops that roll down his cheeks almost like tears. She smiles, and he smiles back.
Father Gabriel is crying, speaking up the sky as he praises The Lord, while Rosita and Tara lie down on the pavement and splash around like kids. Rick, meanwhile, gets to business. “Everyone get the bags. Anything you can find,” he says. So they scramble for containers, filling bottles and flasks and whatever else they can with rain.
The thunder cracks again, and the rain gets even heavier, and suddenly it’s very clear that this is not just rain— it’s a storm. There’s a flash of lighting, more thunder, and Judith starts to cry. “Let’s keep moving,” Rick shouts.
But that won’t work. They can’t stay out in this. They need shelter. “The barn,” Beth realizes quietly. Daryl hears and he nods her on.
“There’s a barn,” Beth says again, louder this time.
“Where?” Rick asks.
So Beth and Daryl lead the group back into the woods, to the clearing where the barn is. Rick opens the door, and they trail him inside, weapons drawn. There’s one walker, a woman, who Sasha puts down without a word. Then they’re all clear.
They’re safe.
The barn is big, drafty, and dark, and it smells like horses and dirt. It’s a familiar smell, a comforting one. Beth hasn’t been in a barn since— well, since the barn. Back then she went to sleep every night in her soft white bed, barely even aware of the fact that she was living on top of a graveyard. How naïve.
Everyone is exhausted, and they all pretty much just collapse the second they find a patch of dry floor. Maggie and Carl both fall asleep almost immediately, while Abraham slumps against a wall and finishes his whiskey.
Rick and Glenn build a fire in a rusty metal drum lid. It’s little, but it’s better than nothing. It crackles softly beneath the beating of the rain, casts an almost-gold glow on the hay-covered floor. Beth considers going over to warm her hands, but she’s not sure she wants all that light in her eyes just yet. She finds a quiet spot against the back wall instead, one where she can see up into the rafters.
It’s no surprise when Daryl comes over to her. He’s turning something over in his hands— the music box that Carl found this morning. He holds it out to her.
“The gear box had some grit in it,” he says.
“Oh,” Beth says. She takes the box from him, runs her fingers down the rough, scratchy metal. “Thank you.”
“‘Course.” He kicks a little at the dirt on the floor. “Is it okay if I sit?
“Yeah,” Beth tells him.
Daryl nods, takes a seat with his back on the wall and his knees out in front of him. He shakes his hair out of his eyes. “You, uh… you okay?”
Ain’t that the question… “I’m okay,” she replies. “Better.”
“You wanna talk about it?” he asks.
Not really, but after what happened earlier she she figures owes him something. “I just feel like I’m the reason he’s gone,” she says. “If I hadn’t’ve taken those stupid scissors and tried to stab her…”
Daryl shakes his head. “Ain’t nobody made her shoot that gun but her,” he says.
“That’s just not true,” Beth says.
“Sure it’s true,” Daryl tells her. “And even if it wasn’t… even if it was your fault… Beth, that don’t mean you don’t deserve to be here.”
He speaks slowly, quietly, and Beth knows that he’s having a hard time putting his thoughts into words. But he pushes through it— because this is important to him. Because she is important to him.
“You gotta live, Beth,” he says. “Cause that’s the difference between us and them. They’re still walking around but we’re living. You have to live. You can’t lose sighta that.”
“Somethin’ bad happened, yeah, but… what you said, ‘bout there still being good in the world… that works here too. You don’t gotta punish yourself, ‘cause there still good in you, Beth. There’s always gonna be good in you.”
It’s probably the most words she’s ever heard him say at once, and they leave her speechless. For a moment she just stares at him, the rain beating hard against the roof. In the corner of her eye she can see the fragile little fire crack and flicker.
“Is that what you think?” she asks.
“That’s what I know,” Daryl answers.
On the dirt floor her hand brushes up against his, and to her surprise neither of them move away. You’re right, she wants to say. And you’re good too. You’re so good, you don’t know how good you are.
“Thank you,” she says instead.
Daryl nods, grunts lightly in response— he’s all of out of words now, it seems. But he smiles at her, and she thinks he’s got the kind of smile people write songs about.
There’s something else, too. Something that she knows they need to talk about. It’s a good a moment as any. “Daryl, about… about the funeral home…”
As soon as she says it Daryl stiffens up and jerk his hand away from hers. He bites the skin around his thumbnail. “That’s okay,” he says, “We don’t gotta talk about it. I didn’t mean to… I know you don’t feel that way about me…”
What? “Who says I don’t feel that way about you?”
Daryl shrugs. “I dunno,” he mumbles. “I just know it’s not, I just figured…”
“You figured I just go around giving handjobs to guys I don’t have feelings for?”
Daryl just blinks at her. He opens his mouth and then shuts it then opens it again. He looks like a very confused fish, and suddenly Beth is laughing.
“Daryl, of course I feel that way about you,” she says.
He’s silent for long moment, and then finally:
“Oh.”
Beth feels like her ribs have been cracked open, but in a good way. Like she can breathe again. “I mean, if that’s okay with you,” she says.
Daryl tilts his face down towards the floor, mumbles into his hair. “Yeah, that’s… I think that’s… that’d be okay.”
“And… would it be okay if I kissed you?”
“Yeah, sure, that’s… that sounds alright.”
Wow, such enthusiasm. “Just alright?”
His eyes meet hers, and the look on his face is so shy and so earnest that she almost feels guilty for teasing him. Almost. “That’d be good,” he says.
So Beth leans in, raises on hand to the side of his face and presses her lips lightly against his. She can feel his pulse in the palm of her hand, can feel his breath smoky and hot under her tongue. It is the softest, most nervous, most delicate kiss she has ever experienced, and yet it makes her insides burn. Kissing him is like swallowing fire. It’s like looking into the sun, it’s like…
“Oh.”
They break away, and Beth feels herself starts to grin. She reaches for his hand again, links her fingers into his. There is more to talk about, probably, but they can do that in the morning. For now she just wants to be here with him. For now this is good. Beth leans her head up against his shoulder and she breathes.
——
In the middle of the night the storm worsens, thunder and lighting and rain all crashing down on then at once. Beth wakes up in a start and sees the barn door burst half-open, and Daryl and Maggie trying to push it close. There’s screeching coming from the other side, and after a moment Beth realizes that it is a hoard of walkers.
She’s on her feet in less than a second. She races to the door, throws herself at the wood and presses into it with all her strength. She’s not the only one. First Rick, then Sasha, then Michonne, then everyone. One by one they take their place against the wall, they fight with everything they have against the death outside. Between every blinding flash of lighting Beth sees theirs face— Noah, Carl, Glenn, Carol, Rosita, Tara, Abraham, Eugene. They are an army on the front lines, a cavalry. A family.
They fight back until they're safe again.
——
When Beth wakes up again the storm has finally stopped. It's early, she's pretty sure, the part of the morning where the moon and the sun might both be out at once. There are pale strips of light filter in through the walls, signaling a sunrise that she can't quite see.
Beth is curled up against Daryl's chest, with her head is propped up by her messenger bag and his arms draped loosely over her back. He is still sound asleep, his hair all messy in his face and Beth can only think about how adorable he is. Like, he’s a thirty-four year old man and he’s killed at least three people but also he’s the cutest boy Beth’s ever laid her eyes on.
She slips gently out of his grasp, careful not to wake him. He seems so peaceful for once, and she can’t bear to disturb that. The music box is on the floor next to her, and she picks it up as she stands.
At first she thinks she’s the only one awake, but then she sees Maggie, sitting with her back against the wall and her eyes wide open. Maggie sees her too, gives a little grin and a wave.
Beth walks over and takes a seat next to her sister. “You on a watch shift?” she asks.
“A self-elected one,” Maggie replies wryly. “Glenn was snorin’ and I really needed some peace and quiet.”
Cute. Beth doesn’t have it in her to smile, but she manages a soft chuckle. “Least he doesn’t sleep talk, like Shawn used to,” she says.
“That’s true,” Maggie replies. She reaches a hand out and places it on Beth’s knee, squeezes lightly. “How about you?” she asks. “You seem like your feelin’ a little better?”
Beth’s not even sure where to begin with an answer to that. When she speaks it makes her throat feel dry. “Yeah, I… I’m better, I guess. I… Maggie, I’m really sorry. I’ve been being a bitch to you since Atlanta, and… and I shouldn’t’ve yelled at you yesterday.”
“Yeah, you were way out of line," Maggie teases. "Daddy were here, he might wash your mouth out with soap." She squeezes Beth on the leg again.
“I’m just glad I got you back,” she says.
Beth’s not sure if that means “back from Grady three weeks ago” or “back from whatever pit you’ve been in, right now," but either way she's glad about it too. She leans her head against her sister’s shoulder, lets Maggie wrap an arm around her and hold her tight. They sit there for a while, quiet.
“Tyreese was good,” Beth says finally.
“He was,” Maggie agrees. “You know, he's the reason we tried to negotiate with them, at the hospital. Rick wanted to just barge in, but Tyreese didn't want anyone getting hurt if they didn't have to."
Yeah, that sounds like him. He was always so good with the kids, too. If Beth understands everything correctly, he's the one who rescued Judith at the prison. That's a good thing, Beth thinks. Because if something worse had happened, or if they hadn't all found each other... Well, Tyreese is someone who would've taken care of Judith. Raised her right, if that was what it came to. He would've set a good example.
"Has Judith been alright?" Beth asks.
"She has," Maggie tells her. "She's healthy."
Alright, good. And Beth looks to the other side of the room, to where Carl is sleeping with Judith tucked under his arm, and she makes up her mind that, later today, she will take a turn holding the baby.
Maggie’s looking off at something too, and all of a sudden she grabs Beth’s wrist and springs to her feet. “C’mon,” she says.
“Where are we going?” Beth asks.
“You’ll see.”
Beth follows Maggie through the barn, over to the corner where is Sasha is sleeping. Maggie leans down and jostles her awake. “Come with us,” she says.
Maggie is still holding Beth’s hand as she leads them out of the barn. In the clearing outside, the storm has left a mess of mud and branches. There’s a tree that’s been knocked down completely, and a few still-growling walkers crushed and nailed to the ground by stray planks of wood. But there’s dew, little drops of it sparkling all over the grass. There’s the clear scent of calm after rain, there’s fresh air. There’s birdsongs.
“Look at this,” Sasha remarks, glancing at a trapped walker who’s reaching for her feet. “Should have torn us apart.”
“It didn’t,” Maggie says. She walks to the fallen tree, sits down and waits for Beth and Sasha to join her.
“Why are we here?” Sasha asks.
“For this,” Maggie says, and she gestures out into the sky. Into the sunrise.
It's part way through, the sun hovering pale and bright over the soft green grass. The sky is grey, cloudy and pastel and streaked through with lines of pink, lavender and gold. The truth is, Beth thinks, there is nothing really special about this moment. She has lived through thousands of sunrise, and with any damn luck she will live through thousands more. This is just one day, like all of the others. But watching the dark fade into warm, shifting color... well, maybe it doesn't matter if its special. It’s beautiful anyway.
“That kid,” Sasha says quietly. “Noah. He said he didn’t think he was gonna make it. That’s how I feel.”
“You will,” Beth says. “You'll live through this. That’s who you are. That's who he was, too."
And Sasha looks at her, and Beth can see that her eyes are shiny with tears. The right thing to do, Beth thinks, would be to cry with her. If only she could. She smiles just a bit instead, and Sasha nods, and the sunrise is quiet.
Beth’s still clutching the music box, and she looks down at it now. “Daryl fixed it,” she explains. She flips the clasp up and opens the cover, revealing the pink plush interior and the tiny blonde ballerina. She winds the key on the back, over and over in circles. She waits. But there’s no music.
Beth starts to laugh.
“Well that just figures, doesn’t it?” she says, through her own snorting laughter. What an absurd let down that turned out to be. She can hear Sasha and Maggie start to laugh with her. And that’s good, she thinks. She might not be able to cry but at least she can laugh. That’s a start.
They’re still laughing when, out of nowhere, a man walks up their way. “Hey,” he says. “Hi.”
Immediately, all three women stand up, ready their guns and point them his way. Beth can feel her whole body jump into hyper-vigilante action, her heart pounding and her muscles tensing. She grits her teeth and holds her gun as steady as she can.
But the man’s got both his hands in the air, like he wants them to know that he’s weaponless. He doesn't look like he's struggling to survive— he’s clean-shaven and neatly dressed, with brown curly hair and a worn-in green windbreaker. He’s got three guns up to his head but he doesn’t seem to be scared of them. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he says. “Good morning. My name is Aaron. I know, stranger danger. But, um. I’m a friend. I’d like to talk to the person in charge. Rick, right?”
A friend? What’s he’s talking about? The women tighten their grips on their guns.
“How do you know—“ Maggie starts to say.
“Why?” Sasha asks.
Aaron smiles at them. “I have good news,” he says.
And behind them the music box springs to life. Beth's eyes widen, as it pours out a tinny twinkling tune and the ballerina spins on her axis. She can't place it, but she's pretty sure she knows this song.