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He never thought he'd see her again. It never even entered his mind. Because why would he see her again? She was dead. Dead. As much as he tried to forget this fact, her ghost never fully left his mind. Whether he was awake or asleep, she was always present in some sense.
He still felt the weight of her limp body in his arms as he carried her down all those flights of stairs.
His ears still rang from Maggie's agonized scream as he presented her with the body of her lifeless sister.
His mind still hummed to the tune Beth played on the piano that night in the funeral home.
And her smile, her smile still flashed in his head, cutting him like a knife over and over again. Her memory killed him. He felt as dead as she. His heart still beat, but only on a functionary level. It served no other purpose than to keep the blood pumping throughout his body. He would never allow it to feel again. Part of him, admittedly, preferred it that way.
Yet there she was. Returned to them, to him, just like that. Like she had never been gone. Returned to them by a chance run back to Grady to gather supplies for Maggie's impending labor.
He hadn't gone on that run. Sticking to his job as "recruiter" for Alexandria, there was no reason for him to go. When Rick, Michonne, and Carl returned after their run, they had not only gathered supplies, but a person too.
A commotion at the gate pricked Daryl's ears. Not one of normal panic or fear or of authoritative questioning. No, this commotion was different. Sitting at his normal spot on Rick and Michonne's porch, he saw Rick barreling in his direction. Instead of coming to the house, Rick hurried across the street, two houses down. Glenn and Maggie's.
A few seconds after Rick entered their house, a very pregnant Maggie came waddling out of the front door, pushing away Glenn's hand for help down the porch steps. She moved quicker than he had seen her go in months.
Pregnancy had made Maggie immensely subdued. After suffering an illness early on that almost took the life of the baby she carried as well as her own, she lost some of the luster she once held. That, combined with late pregnancy, she had become listless, rarely coming out of the house at all.
Daryl had his suspicions the events that had taken place since the fall of the prison were weighing down on her. He felt their hearts were empty of the same person maybe.
Whatever the cause, she was for sure hurting, but Daryl wouldn't even begin to pretend he knew what might fix her heartache. It was none of his concern anyhow.
Here she was, though, running past the porch with Glenn on her heels. Rick followed, stopping long enough to speak to Daryl.
"Come on," Rick gestured with a hand. "You gotta' see this ta' believe it."
Daryl peered at him suspiciously, the expression on his friend's face was indiscernible. It was one he hadn't quite seen before. A mix of excitement and uncertainty. As though he was unable to believe whatever it was he saw, even though Rick, himself, had seen it. Daryl nodded before swooping down to pick up his bow where it leaned against the railing and jumped down the steps, following Maggie and Glenn, and then Rick.
The road followed a slight bend so the gate was not visible from their path along the sidewalk, but not two seconds after Maggie and Glenn disappeared around the corner he heard Maggie let out a scream. Or, not so much a scream as a "What?" said at a very loud level, making Daryl pick up his pace.
As he rounded the corner and the gate came into view, Maggie had her back to him, Glenn standing a few feet away. It looked as though her legs had given out and she had fallen to her knees. She wasn't alone. She was holding someone. Holding so tight.
Daryl stopped abruptly when he saw this. Thinking it's a private moment he shouldn't be a part of.
The person who held Maggie in return was mostly hidden by her rounded pregnant figure. Yet this person somehow seemed familiar, making him stop in his retreat.
Her hands; long and skinny, eloquent fingers. A musician's hands. Her skin so porcelain it must almost be transparent in the sun. Her face was buried in Maggie's shoulder, only showing the top of her head. The top of her blonde head.
Pulling back to look at one another, she held Maggie by her shoulders as though she wanted to see her, to take in her very pregnant belly maybe. Then Daryl was able to get a view of this stranger's face.
And his world shattered.
It wasn't her. It simply could not be. Beth was dead. Yet, here she stood. A drum began to pound at the base of Daryl's skull. The ground shifted slightly under his boots.
Sparing a second, though it cost him, he tore his eyes away from Beth and glowered at Rick. Rick only smiled and nodded his head once, before quickly looking back to the scene unfolding before them, tears in his own eyes.
A crowd had begun to form and everyone was either subtly wiping a tear away or just full-on bawling at this point, whether they knew Beth or not. The impact of the moment was clear to all present.
Daryl remained stoic. Knowing if he allowed what he was feeling to freely show, he might never be able to repatch the dam that he had built up.
Minutes had passed before Beth fully released Maggie and Glenn took hold of her next. Carol and Sasha had heard the commotion and came as well, waiting their turn to greet Beth. Daryl realized she didn't know anyone else in Alexandria. Rick, Michonne, and Carl had been the ones to find her. Maggie, Glenn, Carol, and Sasha. That was it. Noah was gone.
That left him.
Carol pulled back from Beth, and it was the first time he got a good look at her with no obstruction. He was shocked to find she looked good. Great actually. Different clothes, the same Beth, save for a quarter sized scar buried in her hairline covered by a wisp of bangs. If someone didn't know she was shot there, they probably wouldn't have noticed it.
As the seconds ticked by he began to notice subtle differences. Her hair, pulled back by a tie at the nape of her neck, was longer. He doubted she had cut it since they left her body at Grady. She stood taller. Stronger. Her blue eyes were sharper. She watched, she saw everything.
Daryl knew those perceptive eyes were taking note of everything and everyone. Including him.
When her line of vision zeroed in on him, it felt like a warm blanket covering him after a long cold winter. Her face was impassive to anyone looking in. But Daryl? He read her. Her tense stance, the tears in her eyes. Inside, she was as frightened as a wounded rabbit. Outwardly, no one knew.
He was stuck. Should he stay or should he go to her? His boots remained cemented to the ground, rooted in his indecision. He wanted to go to her of course, wanted to more than he wanted his next breath. Forcing his right foot forward, she took a forward step as well.
Then Daryl became aware of everyone watching him. No one could possibly know what went on between them, could they? The depth of their feelings for one another?
Rick's words hummed in his brain, "I know you lost somethin' back there."
Rick was the only one that said anything on the subject. Daryl hadn't offered up any information. As far as he knew, no one knew what had happened between him and Beth. Yet, everyone watched as though on bated breath, waiting for their reunion.
He didn't give a shit less what they thought though. He only cared about what one person thought. And that person was Beth.
At the same time, it was all too much. He wasn't good at this kind of thing. Cursing himself, he took a step backward this time. Then another and another. Turning on his heel, he went back the way he came refusing to look over his shoulder. He couldn't bare to watch her fade away.
The cicadas buzzed loudly in the dimming light of the day. He hoped they would drown out his heartache as he followed the road back around the bend, cutting across the yard of Rick’s house. A beaten-down path in the grass led to the line of woods that bordered the periphery of Alexandria.
Deftly, up over the fence he went and into the only place he felt at home. The trees didn't ask questions. Their leaves did not stare. Most of the time the walkers and animals weren't even aware of his presence. He was where he wanted to be. Alone.
That wasn't exactly true either.
Guilt hit him harder than it had up till that point. Which seemed impossible. He had to steady himself, leaning a hand against the trunk of a tree he let his head fall down between his shoulder blades and fought back the tears that burned his eyes.
He, they all had, but he felt the brunt of the burden of leaving her body the most. They were rushed by a mob of walkers. From where they came no one knew. It didn't really matter. The point was one second they were alone outside of Grady and the next fifty walkers were on top of them. Drawn by Maggie's screams, no doubt.
They had little time to make an exit without losing anyone else. And though it killed what little was left of him, he picked Beth's limp body back up and placed her in the open trunk of a car, slamming it shut in just enough time to make his own escape a few feet behind the rest of the group.
How was he to face Beth after doing that? After leaving her there in the trunk of a fucking car. No last goodbyes. No burial. Nothing. He didn't think he could face her. Not after that. Not after what he did.
At some point, Daryl left the woods and made it back to the house he shared with Rick, Michonne and Carl. He refused a bedroom of his own, leaving the spare to anyone else who might need it. He had a mattress on the floor in the basement instead. Most nights sleep evaded him anyway. Most nights he found himself keeping watch on the porch steps.
This was where he found himself on this night in particular.
Dark had settled over Alexandrea. Everyone was inside, in their respective houses, and with no street lights the noticeable onyx sky shone with bright twinkling stars.
It was his favorite time of day, if he were to admittedly have a favorite time. It was quiet. No one trying to make polite conversation with the walled-off stranger that he still was. There were those that just ignored him, which is what he preferred.
He kept his walls up, kept a distance. No attachments, ready to move on at a moment's notice. Rick, Michonne, Carl, Carol. Glenn and Maggie. Shasha. Those people were his family - not the people of Alexandria.
After Grady, his relationships with those closest to him changed. He became even more distant. No one seemed to mind, and he sure the hell didn't either.
Except they did mind but knew to keep their distance so as not to push him further away
On the top step of the porch, leaning back against the post, leg kicked out onto the step below him, he blew out smoke from the last cigarette he owned, making a mental reminder to scavenge for more the next time he was able. Zoning out, looking up at the inky sky, he allowed his eyes to blur until the stars became just blurbs on a black canvas.
"Daryl?" She spoke hesitantly.
That voice was like honey on a raw throat. It soothed him down to his bones. Closing his eyes, he took one last drag and flicked the cigarette onto the dirt patch where flowers were supposed to be planted but weren’t. Hell if he knew why.
He opened his eyes. And there she stood in front of him like a vision. Like the dream, he'd had over and over again.
A dream that quickly turned into a nightmare.
In his dream, whenever he reached for her, her head would snap backward and he was witness to her being shot again. He would wake up with a scream on the tip of his tongue. His lungs burned with it. Tears stinging from the force of it being held back.
So naturally, he questioned if this was real or was it just another nightmare. In his dreams she never spoke. So he waited to see if she would speak again. And she did. Repeating his name. And again, it warmed him from the inside out.
Running a hand over his face, he pushed his palms into his eye sockets until he felt pain. Until he saw his own stars on the backs of his eyelids. Opening his eyes, he regarded her again.
His angel come back from purgatory.
"Beth," his voice hoarse with misuse and emotion. "Girl, I'm…" he stammered. He never allowed himself to think of her as still alive, he sure as hell never allowed himself to think of what he would say to her if he ever saw her again.
"Shh…" Beth reassured. Lifting a hand, her oversized flannel shirt falling loosely up her arm. Her fingers traced the side of his stubbled face.
Involuntarily his eyes closed. Involuntarily he leaned into her touch. Her fingers traveled into his shaggy hair. His hand grasped her wrist.
In this world, there was little to go on. He believed wholeheartedly in intuition and followed where it led him. To be a hunter, a tracker, you relied heavily on intuition. Being a recruiter was much the same. "You read people", as Aaron once said. So he guessed it was intuition that led him to place a kiss on her wrist just above where his fingers curled around it.
Breathing her deep into his lungs, he had no idea how, but she smelled the same. Vanilla mixed with pine and honey. After all this time, how the hell did she smell the same?
If he pulled her close or she voluntarily moved into him, he wasn't sure. They seemed to move concurrently. In unison. Before either realized what was happening, she was on his lap, his arms wound tightly around her waist, hers wrapped around his shoulders. Her forehead buried into his neck, he rocked them back and forth.
His words were barely audible, saying over and over again, "Missed you, missed you so much. I'm so sorry for leavin' you."
"Don't be." Her voice was watery, but sure. "I'm here with you now. 'N that's all that matters."
And for the first time, since he'd abandoned her body, since before that if he was being honest, since before the dead took over the world, all was right in his life.