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The tattoo kit had been sitting in the bottom of Daryl’s nightstand for three weeks.
He hadn’t told anybody about it.
Not Rick.
Not Carol.
Not even Beth.
He’d found it on a run outside Alexandria, tucked into the back of an abandoned strip mall beneath a shelf that had collapsed sometime after the world ended.
A little plastic case with sealed ink and sterile needles. A cheap machine that didn’t work anymore, but the instructions inside explained how to do it by hand.
Daryl had stared at it for a long time.
Then he’d put it in his pack.
He hadn’t known why.
At least, that’s what he’d told himself.
He’d hidden it beneath his clothes when he got back to Alexandria. Kept it to himself. Eventually, he’d shoved it into the bottom drawer of his nightstand, beneath spare ammunition and an old knife sharpener.
Didn’t think too much on it. Tried not to.
Wasn’t like it was practical anyway, wasn’t necessary.
But every time he opened the drawer, he saw it. And every time he saw it, he closed the drawer again. Told himself that the half cocked idea in his head was stupid. Didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.
They didn’t need rings.
They’d talked about that.
Beth had been the one to bring it up, one night while they were lying together in the dark. Her hand had been moving across his chest, nails brushing against his skin in a rhythm that had him falling asleep faster than he could fight it.
“What do you think we’d do if things were normal?”
Daryl had known immediately what she meant. Knew immediately what his answer would be, which damn near shook the breath right out of him.
“Get married.”
His sleep-coated words had landed in the quiet peace of their room, and as his body tightened and geared up for rejection, mind already cursing his sorry ass for speaking, she’d simply sighed happily.
She’d smiled against his shoulder.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“What would you want?” She’d asked then, tucking up onto her elbow to look at him, a bright smile on her flushed face.
He’d shrugged.
“Whatever you want.”
She’d laughed, shaking her head insistently.
“No, Daryl. What we want. You and me, not just me.”
So he’d thought about it.
A small wedding, maybe. A church somewhere in Georgia, maybe even the one they’d found before they’d found the farm. Before he’d found her.
It wouldn’t be anything too fancy, their ideal wedding.
They’d just be with people they loved.
Her family.
Their family.
The people who were no longer with them. Hershel. Merle. Others.
Beth had talked about what dress she’d have picked from the little boutique in town. What flowers she’d carry - wildflowers, which Daryl thought was quite accurate for them both. How Maggie would be beside her. How her father would walk her down the aisle. Her brother would make an embarrassing speech.
Daryl had said Merle would’ve made an offensive one.
Beth had laughed a light twinkling sound and carried on, describing how Rick, and Glenn, and Carol would be there too because even if the world didn’t end, she was convinced they’d find each other. That their family would find each other no matter what.
He hadn’t said much.
But he’d listened.
He’d remembered.
Especially the part about Hershel.
Because there was still a little voice in the back of Daryl’s head that wondered.
Not about Beth. Never about Beth.
About himself.
Hershel had been a good man. A man who’d looked at Daryl and eventually seen more than the Dixon name.
But Daryl still wondered sometimes.
The age difference. Where he’d come from. What kind of man he was. Who he used to be.
Whether Hershel would’ve looked at the two of them and thought Beth deserved somebody better.
Beth had told him more than once that he would’ve approved.
“He loved you.”
Daryl had grunted.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” She’d kissed his cheek. “I know it because Daddy knew you, and he knew you were a good man.”
Daryl had looked away.
Beth hadn’t pushed, she’d just held his hand.
That had been enough.
Still, the thought remained.
So did the tattoo kit.
Three weeks after finding it, Daryl waited until Beth was asleep.
Alexandria was quiet. The walls stood around them, dark against the night. For once, nobody was shouting. There was no gunfire, no walkers scratching at the gates.
Just the low hum of the community settling into sleep.
Daryl sat at the little table beside the bed. He’d cleaned the needle twice with alcohol and his lighter. Made sure to scrub it with soap too until the metal was cleaner than he probably was.
He’d read the instructions three times. He’d even considered putting the whole thing away and never telling a soul he’d even attempted it.
But then he looked over at Beth.
She was curled on her side, one hand tucked beneath her cheek. Peaceful and warm. Alive.
That mattered.
God, that mattered.
Daryl looked down at his own hands.
He remembered another set of hands. His mother’s. He remembered how young she’d been. How quickly she’d disappeared into the bottle. The look on the firefighters’ face as they called off life saving attempts from where they stood over charred remains.
How he’d learned, before he was old enough to understand why, that loving somebody didn’t mean they would know how to love you back.
Then his father.
The yelling. The drinking. The fear.
Home had never been safe.
Family had never meant safety.
Even with Merle. Merle had been his brother. His blood. The person who’d always come back for him, even when he shouldn’t have. The person who Daryl did the exact same thing for.
But Merle hadn’t known how to make things better. He’d only known how to survive them.
Daryl loved him. He always would. But Merle hadn’t taught him how to build something.
He’d taught him how to endure.
Beth had taught him something else.
How to stay.
How to come home.
Daryl looked at her again.
He’d spent his whole life thinking he’d end up alone. He’d expected it. Maybe even deserved it, once.
Then Beth had happened.
And suddenly there were people waiting for him.
Rick.
Carol.
Glenn.
Maggie.
People who gave him shit and fed him and trusted him. People who noticed when he was gone. Worried for him, checked on him. Wanted him rather than just needed him.
A family.
His family.
He’d never thought he’d have one.
He’d definitely never thought he’d have this.
A woman sleeping in his bed who loved him. Told him daily. Showed him hourly.
A woman he’d nearly lost.
Grady flashed through his mind.
The blood. The gunshot. Beth going down, body hitting the ground as blood pooled on tile below her head.
Daryl’s fingers tightened around the needle as he closed his eyes. His chest seized at the memory, heart pounding.
It hadn’t happened, he reminded himself. It had just been a graze. Beth had woken up only a few minutes later with a groan and blood soaked hair, but she’d been alive. She’d survived.
He hadn’t lost her.
He wasn’t losing her.
Not in his head.
Not tonight.
Not ever.
He opened the ink.
He pressed the needle to his skin. The first prick barely registered. The second did. By the third, his hand was shaking.
He paused, glancing over at Beth. She hadn’t moved, chest rising and falling steadily under the blankets.
He took a breath.
Then started again.
Within minutes, an inky B marked his skin, ink bleeding ever so slightly as it settled.
It wasn’t perfect.
The line wavered at the end.
Daryl swore quietly and tried to correct it. That only made it worse.
His vision blurred, and he blinked.
Once.
Twice.
A tear fell onto his hand.
He stared at it.
He hadn’t even realized he’d started crying.
“Shit.”
He wiped his face with his wrist.
The tattoo was still there.
Crooked.
Uneven.
A little ugly.
Daryl stared at it.
He thought about wedding rings.
He thought about Beth’s father.
He thought about the way she’d smiled when she’d told him Hershel would’ve approved.
He thought about how much he wished he could’ve asked the man himself.
Then he looked at Beth.
“I’ll take care of her.” His voice was barely audible as he breathed his makeshift vows, a promise to her as much as to her father. “Won’t ever hurt her. Won’t ever leave her.”
He looked back down at the B.
Beth shifted in her sleep and Daryl immediately went still. He exhaled as she settled again, getting to work as he cleaned the tattoo and began wrapping his finger.
Before covering it, he stared at it for a few moments longer. The B on his ring finger. A wedding band made of ink.
He’d never had a father teach him how to be a husband. Never had a mother show him what lasting love looked like. Never had a brother who knew how to build something healthy.
But maybe he didn’t need them to.
Maybe he could make something different.
Something better.
Something that didn’t end.
Beth woke not a full 20 minutes later.
She found Daryl sitting on the edge of the bed. His back was to her, eyes down on the hand he still hadn’t managed to cover. Couldn’t stop looking at it long enough to do it.
“Daryl?” Her voice was sleepy as she sat up, skin illuminated by the moonlight that drifted through the window.
He looked over his shoulder, grunted his greeting.
She rubbed her eyes.
“What’re you doing?”
“Nothin’.”
She sat up, suspicious immediately. Scooting closer to his back, she leaned her head on his shoulder.
Then she noticed the bandage.
Her expression immediately changed.
“What happened?”
Daryl hesitated.
Beth reached for him, and he gave her his hand without complaint, the gauze drifting into his lap.
She carefully examined his hand, and Daryl’s eyes watched her face as realization dawned.
Her eyes widened, lips parting in a breathless gasp.
“Oh.”
Daryl’s memory travelled back. Back to the funeral home when she’d looked at him with the same expression, the same word dropping from her lips. He was sure he was looking back at her with the same intensity, could feel it. Could almost smell the candles and the pig’s feet.
Girl still hated them.
Her fingers were still wrapping around his, brushing against his skin.
“You did this?”
He nodded.
“How?”
Daryl jerked his head towards the desk, where the kit was still laid out.
“Where did you even get that?” Beth breathed.
“On a run. Few weeks back.”
She smiled. Not because she found it funny. Because she understood.
“You hid the kit.”
Daryl shrugged.
“For three weeks.”
Her smile grew, eyes reading him like an open book.
“You were nervous.”
“No.”
“Daryl.”
He looked away.
She laughed softly, pressing her lips to the back of his hand.
“You were.”
“I ‘unno.” He shrugged off.
Beth kissed his hand before pulling away, inspecting the skin again. Her thumb brushed carefully around the ink.
“It’s crooked.”
“Know.”
“I love it.”
He looked at her.
“You do?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged. “Kinda makes it better.”
Daryl frowned.
“How?”
“Cause it’s yours. It’s us.” She said.
Something in his chest pulled tight. Something in his expression must have wavered, for she then leaned in and kissed him soundly. Then she looked at his finger again.
“You know what?”
“What?”
“I want one.”
Daryl’s eyes narrowed.
“Beth.”
“Your initial.” She continued, sounding both sure and shy.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.” She held up her left hand. “But I want it.”
Daryl stared at her.
“You sure?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “Besides, you can’t be the only one with a wedding band.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then his eyes dropped to her hand, and he nodded, worrying his lip as he took in her pale flesh, wondered how he could do it and not mess it up. Thought about denying her, however briefly, as if he ever could. As if she’d ever let him.
“Okay.”
It took longer to do hers.
Daryl’s hands were steadier this time. He made damn sure of it.
Beth kept her eyes on him. Every so often she’d catch his expression tightening, concentration pulling his brows together.
“You okay?” She asked.
“Yeah.”
“You look like you’re performing surgery.”
“Don’t move.” He grumbled.
She smiled warmly.
“Yes, sir.”
He finished the final line.
A D.
Crooked.
Not as crooked as his B.
But close.
Beth looked at it.
Then at him.
“It’s perfect.”
Daryl shook his head.
“Not even close.”
She reached for his hand. Their fingers intertwined. She held them up in the glow of starlight.
“It is to me.”
He looked down.
B.
D.
Two little letters.
No rings.
No ceremony.
No paperwork.
Just promises.
“Happy wedding day,” Beth whispered.
Daryl looked at her. His thumb moved over her knuckles.
“Happy weddin’ day, darlin’.”
Beth had but a brief moment to smile her blindingly bright grin at him before Daryl leaned in, and kissed his bride.