Chapter Text
A year before her fifteenth birthday her momma died, and three weeks after she turned sixteen her daddy went. He’d been so heartbroken after her momma had died and then her, daddy just couldn’t take it; a dead wife and a mutant for a daughter, it wasn’t that he harbored any anger towards Beth but he’d known the instant she manifested just how difficult life would be for his youngest daughter. It’d been too much for his fragile heart and with pain in his eyes he’d said goodbye, told Maggie to take care of Beth. She couldn’t even kiss him goodbye for the fear of what her skin would do to him.
It’d been a shock to the remaining Greene’s when one day she’d been out in the stables, petting her favorite horse and all of a sudden he let out a terrible noise and he’d fallen to the ground, trembling and shaking, a seizure her daddy would later say. But why? he’d been just fine until Beth started running her hands through his mane, she’d been feeding him hay and when his tongue had swept out and licked her palm he’d fallen so terribly to the hard ground.
Maggie had taken Beth into her arms, smoothing her long blonde hair back as Beth had cried, and then when a single fingertip trailed its way up to wipe the tears from her eyes, Maggie had fainted, her eyes had rolled back into her head and she’d started seizing, just like her horse. Beth had screamed, going into hysterics as she told her daddy “It was me! It’s me!" By the end of the day Beth had covered herself up in long gloves and a scarf around her neck despite the blistering Georgia heat.
She’d read news articles about mutant children, how they mostly manifested shortly after puberty, so why was this happening to her now? but then again, she’d always been a late bloomer so she guessed this was just something else that applied to that as well.
Two days after they buried her daddy, Maggie had called her into the kitchen, a couple of bills on the table and a heartbreaking expression on her face. Beth had known even before she said anything, she’d watched the documentaries about the so called “camps” designed to “cure” people of their mutant gene, she’d watched the news as reports of anti-mutant violence increased, a few days prior a group of men had taken a teenage girl out into a field in Mississippi and burned her at the stake, accused her of being a witch.
“I’m sorry, Bethy,” Maggie had sobbed, “it’s just not safe here, for you anymore.”
“It’s okay, Mags, I understand,” Beth had responded, a smile on her face. She knew this day was coming anyways, people were starting to get suspicious, and in a little town news traveled fast. So Beth had packed what little she could into an old duffel bag and in the morning Maggie had driven her to the bus station.
“Where will you go?” Maggie asked.
“North, somewhere where I won’t look too outta place,” Beth giggled, gesturing at her clothes.
“That’s smart, you always had more sense than I did,” Maggie said, tears brimming her eyes. Beth had hugged her sister as carefully as she could and promised her to see her in the near future.
“Once I settle down, you can come up and visit,” she’d told her sister even though she’d been unsure of that herself.
************
In Colorado Beth ran out of money, she was stranded and without a job, so she’d started hitching her way up even further North. She just had to get away from as many people as she could, in cold weather no one would ever suspect she was a mutant because of the way she dressed. And if some of the truck drivers got handsy while she rode shotgun, well then, Beth didn’t feel too guilty when a single touch dropped them on their ass.
Somewhere near the Canadian border Beth hears of a bar, someplace rough and full of people she'd never been around back in Georgia. She thinks it might be the perfect place to go looking for a job, they won't care where she comes from or who she is, and if she's lucky they won't ask how old she is, so she hitches a ride and arrives one cold night.
The parking lot is full of big rigs and trucks and motorcycles, a couple of rough looking men eye her warily as she makes her way inside but Beth's not worried, she has her own personal electrified fence after all. The sounds and smells coming from inside hit her senses like a freight train. The place is huge and packed, scantily clad women walking around despite the near freezing temperatures outside, the smell of liquor strong in her nose. She hears yelling and cheering coming from deeper inside the building and Beth has to push her way toward the sound.
Once she sees the reason for the cheers Beth can only stand and stare. A cage is set in the middle of the room and there are two men inside, fighting, each blow and smack of skin on skin only serving to whip the crowd into a bigger frenzy. It's completely barbaric yet something about the spectacle has Beth's eyes glued to the carnage. Blood and sweat and spit, like a gladiator pit, she wonders what kind of man would willingly enter the cage.
One of the men punches the other and he goes straight to the ground, two other men have to drag him out of the cage. Beth cranes her neck to see the winning man better, his back is broad and his arms are huge, he seems to freeze in his step and when he turns around Beth's breath is knocked out of her.
"Winner, once again!" The announcer shouts, "Dixon!" He says, the crowd both cheering and booing at the standing man.
He has long, shaggy hair, shielding his eyes from her view but the way he walks toward a corner of the cage is what gets to her. He's like a big cat, predatory and at ease at the same time, he lights up a cigarette and Beth sees a woman reach a hand inside the cage, giving him a shot of amber liquid that he quickly downs in one gulp. He looks deadly, there's a calm to his stance but Beth knows better, he's not going home a loser tonight, he'll be the king of the cage.
***********
He smells her before he even sees her, clean and innocent, she smells untouched and it's the only reason he can pick her out amongst the throng of scents in the place. He turns and she's standing by the cage, a girl, a kid really, bright blue eyes and blonde hair, she looks completely out of place and he wonders what someone like her is doing in a place like this.
Well, it ain't none of his business anyways. She's most likely a teenage runaway, maybe a teenage hooker, Daryl's met a handful of those in the past and that's the type of shit he don't need in his life. So he turns his back to her and hopes she starts giving those eyes to some other asshole.
The night drags on and somewhere between fight number three and seven he loses sight of the blonde, he almost sighs in relief when he can't pick her out from the crowd. Daryl pulls on his jacket and makes his way to the fight organizer, time to collect his hard earned cash.
"Made me a lot of money tonight, Dixon," the man grins, his teeth yellowed from tobacco, "haven't had a night like this one in a long time!" He says, "sure you don't wanna hang around a couple more days?"
"No," Daryl responds, the faster he can get outta here the better.
The man shrugs, "oh well, drinks are still on the house."
Daryl gives him a slight nod, maybe he'll stick around for a beer after all. He takes his cash and makes his way to the bar and goddammit.
She's sitting there, perched atop a stool like a little fragile thing, a streaked glass of water in front of her. She doesn't look at him until he speaks, asks the bartender for a beer.
She turns her eyes on him and Daryl tries not to squirm in his seat, they're wide and round and her lips are soft and pink and fuck if she doesn't look all of twelve years old. Maybe that's how she gets her johns, turns on that mock innocence and lures them in with promises of sweetness and naïveté. Only problem is, Daryl doesn't smell the desperation coming off her in waves, not like the other girls, she smells like she's never told a single lie in her life.
The bartender turns on the old tv and a news segment about mutants is on, Daryl chugs his beer and is about to leave when one of his cage opponents comes up behind him.
"I know what you are," he snarls, giving Daryl a hard poke in his shoulder.
He ignores the guy, can feel the girl's eyes on him, but the asshole doesn't let up, he shoves at Daryl's shoulder. He even tries walking away, gets up from his seat and is about to take a step when all of a sudden there's an ear piercing shriek coming from the girl and he looks down and sees a knife sticking out his side. Almost on instinct he slides the claws from one hand and sticks them under the other guys throat.
He freezes and Daryl smells terror, his eyes flit to the girl but it's not coming from her, she's just staring, entranced by the sight of his hand.
A second later the bartender has a shotgun pointed at his face, "Out of my bar, freak!" he threatens so Daryl slides his claws through it like butter and turns around and walks out of the place.
********
He had knives! The man had knives coming out of his hands! Beth knows she's not going crazy because everyone else in the place saw them too. She'd seen her fair share of mutations but none of them like that! She wonders if they hurt, what that must feel like every time he slides them out.
But she doesn't have time to wonder too much because in a split second she has to make a decision. Either stay there and take her chances with people who are clearly anti-mutant or out there with the man who glared at her from his seat on the bar.
He had angel wings on his back, she'd caught sight of the vest he was wearing over his jacket, they seemed like a beacon, so out of place; and just like that, her decision is made.
She takes her duffel bag and runs out behind him, he's sliding into his truck by the time she makes her way outside and she has to run to climb onto the trailer that's hitched to the back of his camper because he's already turning on the lights and is about to pull out of the lot.
It's freezing and the drive is rough but Beth knows she's safe with this man, somehow she just knows it, after all if he had wanted to hurt her he could have done so back at the bar. He could have lured her into the bathroom or outside, but he didn’t. It must be half an hour later when the truck screeches to a halt and Beth can feel her heartbeat racing, no, no, please keep driving.
The tarp she'd pulled over herself is yanked off her and she meets the man's stony glare.