[fic] lay your hands on the left behind [1/5]
Title: lay your hands on the left behind [1/5]
Author: badboy_fangirl
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Characters/Pairings: Daryl & Beth POV; Daryl/Beth; with appearances by everyone else.
Word Count: ~4600
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 / Spoilers through all of season four.
Summary:
Author's notes: This is a companion/continuation fic to Empty Handed and Holding On. The title for this story and the opening quote are lifted from the song "Broken Ones" by Jacquie Lee.
we've all been broken once, so let's love the broken ones
"See ya tomorrow, Dixon," Maggie calls as Daryl clocks out. He tosses her a fuck you look because she does this every day, thinking it's the most hilarious joke for some reason. "Be good to my sister," she finishes up, like always.
He sends her a fuck you finger gesture as well, and the grin that splits her face almost makes his irritation fade.
Almost.
He knows he's just sensitive; there's a part of him (that will probably always remain) that never quite accepts that all this's real. That he lives in a city that's Walker-free where he has a respectable job making sure it stays that way, and that he goes home every day to this beautiful young girl who, somehow, chose him, and thinks he's the greatest fucking thing that ever happened to her.
Who says shit like, "I'm not sayin' I'm glad the Turn happened, but I am glad that this--" she points back and forth between their bodies to indicate them "--happened. And I realize it probably never woulda happened without the Turn, so it's kinda confusing, right? I mean, don't you think it's okay to find beauty in a broken world, in whatever way you can, and just be grateful for it, without havin' to justify it?"
He just nodded, because the reason she had even been saying it was because some bitch she worked with had tried to make her feel bad for being happy. When that same bitch had never even been out with Walkers, or been raped, or seen their daddy get his head chopped off.
Beth'd had to pin him to the bed to keep him from going down to her work and giving this 'Lydia' person a piece of his mind. All he knew was he hated her, whoever she was, because who could look at Beth's smile and ever do anything to try to make it stop? Was she fucking blind?
"Daryl," Beth said cajolingly, sitting atop him. "She doesn't matter. I just needed to vent. And you think I'm right, doncha?"
"'Course you're right," he muttered, resting his hands on her hips, hooking his thumbs in the beltloops of her jeans. "And," he added for good measure. "That woman's a bitch."
Beth's face reddened a bit when he said that, and then she got this gleam in her eye, the one he knew very well. She raised up on her knees to undo his pants and he grew hard in her hand. It took some contortionist moves to get her out of her jeans and panties because she refused to climb all the way off him. By the time he was running his fingers teasingly through the soft curls between her legs, they were both giggling like a couple of kids.
(In those first few months with Beth, Daryl'd had more sex than ever before in his life. He'd never been that into getting tail, much to Merle's disappointment, and he remembered too many times when his older brother harassed him about not even liking girls.)
As she sank down on him, she made a humming sound in her throat, but she was still giggling just a bit, and he could feel the vibrations of it throughout her body into his. He reached up and slowly pushed her shirt upwards until she helped by pulling it off over her head. Then he tugged one bra strap down until a breast peeped out at him. Thumbing her nipple gently, she stopped giggling, and the hum went into a deep moan that had her head falling back on her shoulders.
She moved up and down on him, slowly, for a while before she brought her eyes back to his to say, "You feel so, so, so good, god." She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, and Daryl felt himself swell bigger, at either her words, or her actions, he wasn't real sure. "I don't know how I lived without it," she whimpered.
(Yeah, the issue had never been that Daryl didn't like girls.)
He understands, now.
He hadn't liked sex just for the sake of sex. With Beth it was a way to communicate that didn't involve words (or at least words he had to think too much about -- sometimes things just came out of his mouth, surprising them both, like when he started babbling about how the reason he felt so good to her was because he wasn't cut, and some people didn't even know it, but being uncut gave a woman a lot more to feel, and it wasn't half bad for the fella either, to which Beth had smiled on a downward movement, her hands braced against his chest. "I know, Daryl," she whispered, and he wondered how she knew that, being as there were lots of other things she hadn't known until he showed/told her, but she followed that with a hip swivel that nearly ended him and the words, Michonne told me, and then he was coming, not because of Michonne's name being tossed out there, but because Beth suddenly got there herself, and nothing triggered his orgasm faster than her clenching around him in her own ecstasy), and Daryl fucking loved that.
Because words often failed him, especially when it came to Beth.
There was all this stuff in his head, had been for months and months, and even though part of him really wants to tell her everything, showing her is much easier. Pleasing her, making her gasp and moan and say his name? Yeah, he just really fucking loves it.
(Merle'd probably still think it was pussy behavior, but Daryl silenced that voice in his head long ago.)
Sometimes he lays in bed, in the early morning hours, when he's supposed to get up and go to work before her, and just watches her sleeping. He gets off on that in a strange way, too. The satisfaction of her serenity, is, in his bones, the only thing that really matters.
As time passes, and his contentment stretches out, other thoughts start to worm their way in.
Ones that involve more than being naked with Beth and lying comfortably in a bed with her forever. Because while that is everything that he can imagine ever wanting, there is this niggling reminder at the back of his mind about the rest of the world.
The Turn is the best thing that ever happened to him, but he knows that's not the case for most everyone else.
And Maggie's clichéd parting words on the days she works with him is just one reminder of it.
Another happens to be waiting for him in the locker room at work on a day when Maggie's shift doesn't coincide with Daryl's.
"Hey, Abraham," he says, shocked to see the man who had never quite become his friend through Terminus and traveling to Washington and all that. They'd been allies, for sure, but by then Daryl had had his wall up, good and solid, keeping any and all extra people out. He had lost Beth and he wouldn't lose anyone else he loved, but at the time Abraham, Rosita, and (especially) Eugene, woulda been the people he threw under the bus.
Luckily, it had never come to that, but still. Daryl is in a different place now, but the memories that come in strong at the sight of Abraham's red hair and crazy mustache are still somewhat painful.
"Whatcha doin' here?" Daryl asks as Abraham moves forward to shake his hand.
"Lookin' for you," he says. "You gotta few?"
Daryl puts his stuff in his locker and nods his head. "Yeah, I'm just headed home, so no rush."
"Where you living?" Abraham asks.
Daryl shuts the locker door. "I'm in a house over on Colorado Avenue. Why?"
"Just curious as to where they put you."
Daryl half-smiles. "They didn't put me anywhere. I'm living there with my girl, and she was living there before we got here. I just moved in with her."
Abraham smiles, too. "The little blonde? Maggie's sister, right?"
"Right," Daryl says.
When he adds nothing more, Abraham clears his throat. "I'm just gonna get right to the point here, Dixon. You're a good man, a good soldier. I watched you when we were out there, and you're the kinda man I'da recruited back in the day. And I'm kinda recruitin' you now, but it's top secret, so you can't say anything to anyone, until everything's official. I wanted to come and talk to you, personally, give you some time to think on it."
"Think on what?" Daryl asks.
"They're getting ready to announce that they've created a cure. Eugene's theory worked, and they've been running trials on folks, and it's working. So we're gonna have to take it out, to the people who are still outside our walls. And I want you on my team when we go."
Daryl leans back against the bank of lockers, mostly out of shock. All that information, spewed so quickly at him, all but takes his legs out from under him. The biggest reason they'd started for Washington had been because of Eugene's claims that he could cure the virus, but Daryl never bought it for one second. And since they'd been in the city walls, he hadn't thought anything of it, though from time to time Rick would mention something about Abraham or Eugene.
"I know it's a lot to ask, but we need people who know what they're doing out there, and I can't ask everyone from our original group to come. So I chose you and Sasha. Anybody you bring with you is up to you, but I'm not asking anyone else from that group. Y'all can do the recruitin' beyond yourselves."
Daryl just shakes his head, not sure what to say.
"I mean, if you decide to come along," Abraham clarifies. He moves toward Daryl, but doesn't crowd him. With an earnest expression on his face, he adds, "There are people needin' savin', Dixon. You strike me as the type to get it done."
Daryl watches as he turns away. He walks to the door of the locker room, glancing over his shoulder just as he pulls it open. "I'll respect whatever you decide, but I'd feel a lot better with you out there with me."
In the silence that follows, Daryl's decision is agonizingly easy.
He fucks Beth in the pantry of all places.
There is no other word for it. He sees her in there, and his need to possess her takes a savage turn. Or at least, in comparison with the way he's ever laid hands on her before, it feels savage.
(He feels like a savage, using her like that when he knows he's gonna leave her.)
"That was...wow," Beth says breathlessly, her head leaning on a loaf of bread on the shelf in front of her.
His hands are still palming her breasts, the shuddering of her chest causing them to tremble under his touch. "Sorry," he whispers, not really sure what he's apologizing for.
A choked laugh escapes her, and her hands cover his over her shirt. She squeezes his hands, and stretches back a little. "I'm not," she says brightly. "But help me stand up, here. I don't want to end up face-planting in the bag of flour down there. I can't handle the idea of explaining to Carol or Michonne how I broke my nose in the pantry."
Daryl can't stop his own laughter at the scandalized way she says the word.
He flicks his thumbs caressingly over her nipples once more before sliding his hands down to her hips, keeping her steady as she shuffles forward. He hadn't gotten so far as removing any of their clothes completely, and her jeans and panties are around her ankles. She bends down to pull them up slightly, and because of his position on the step ladder, her ass is practically in his face.
Not that he minds, obviously. He holds on to her and leans forward, pressing his lips into one of the dimples at the small of her back where her shirt has ridden up. Resting his forehead against her, he rubs his nose over the smooth soft skin there. It's a bit of an awkward hug, but Beth doesn't seem to mind. She pats a hand over one of his, but says nothing, letting the moment ease along at its own pace. He finally lets her go, but only when her words fully register about their housemates knowing about what they've done in this community spot.
"Yeah, I guess we oughta get outta here, huh?" he asks.
Beth straightens up, pulling her pants with her. She throws a sly smile over her shoulder and whispers naughtily, "What they don't know can't hurt them!"
Daryl remembers teaching her to use his crossbow, and can't help but feel like she shot him straight through without even meaning to.
Daryl is certain of two things: one, he has to go with Abraham; and two, nothing hurts worse than Beth's righteous anger. Of all the emotions he's felt for her or watched her go through separate from him, having her mad at him, and knowing he deserves it, are the worst places he's ever been.
He doesn't know what to do about it, so he stays away. But he doesn't seek solace from Rick or Glenn, or anyone. What could they say? Nothing he hasn't already gone through in his own mind, that's for damn sure. No one can talk him out of it, because he knows it's the right thing. He just never realized how much doing the right thing could hurt a person. In some ways it was almost as bad as doing the wrong thing, and he had plenty of experience with that.
The thing is, see, that Beth makes it fucking impossible to do the wrong thing. Not because she couldn't just say Daryl, I don't want you to go; he would obey her command without much hesitation. But she'll never say that, and he knows it.
What Beth means in Daryl's life is that he has accepted that he's a good person and that he does the right thing. It didn't start because of her, it started because of him; he might even trace it back to the time Carol told him he was every bit as good as Rick or Shane. But because of Beth, because of the gift she's been in his life, he can't--not ever--just go on with his life with her and never look back. His second chance is all wrapped up in her, and the least he can do is offer second chances to every other person he can physically reach.
He knows how valuable it is and the idea of not going with Abraham is the same as not looking for Sophia--not an option.
When he finally does go home, it's the middle of the night. The house is dark, and it strikes him as strange that he's just walking quietly through it to his and Beth's bedroom. He's not drunk; he hasn't done anything to avoid what's about to happen. Well, he avoided it for a few hours, but still. He intends to face the music.
He'll do what little he can to mend her broken heart. Like make all the promises he needs to make and give her some sort of gesture of how much he loves her, because he can't go back on his word to Abraham.
Making Beth come has been his favorite pastime since, you know, the first time he did it, but there is a huge tragedy in the undertaking this night. He can feel in every stroke of his fingers that it's not right, that it's not communicating what he's come to rely on so heavily over the last several months. Even so, he doesn't stop until she's quivering around him, and with her nails in the tender skin of his neck, he welcomes his own discomfort, both there and the ache elsewhere that he doesn't intend to satisfy.
But when she tells him she's going with him, it's as effective as being doused with ice cold water, and that has never happened to Daryl with Beth.
He moves away from her, mostly because the desire to hold on to her so tightly he can never lose her seems to pulse under his skin the way his blood had moments ago. Then she flicks the bedside lamp on and turns slightly so she can see him. He can feel her watching him, just waiting, but they both know there's nothing to say. He would never boss her, and she sure as hell would never be bossed, so.
Stalemate, he thinks it's called.
Then he thinks of Maggie. Be good to my sister. He lets out a breath and says the only thing that pops into his head. “Maggie’ll fuckin’ murder me for takin’ you with.”
She doesn't even take a whole beat to respond. “Maggie’ll get over it.”
“Like your gettin’ over it?” he scoffs. His fingers twitch with wanting to grab at her, so he jams his entire arm under the pillow beneath his head to keep himself under control.
A glare pierces his skin as he lets his eyes meet hers. “You think this is retaliation?” she asks.
He can feel her vibrating in a totally new way now, without his fingers inside her. “The fuck, Beth? I hurt you, so you’ll hurt me, right? I can at least call a spade a spade.”
It scares the shit out of him when she leaps off their bed. They've been talking in hushed tones since it's the middle of the fucking night, but that flies out the window when Beth yells, “I’m not tryin’ to hurt you, you stupid sonofabitch! I’m trying to make sure you survive! And if I’m out there with you, I know you’ll be extra careful, but I’ll also have your back. We’ve had this fight before, but let me remind you, I survived, too! It’s not just dumb luck that I made it here! I was the one who had no survival skills, but somehow made it out of the prison with you. I was the one who believed there was good in a world gone to hell, and I was the one who got stolen by some hillbilly lowlifes that raped me! And I’m your woman, Daryl Dixon. What do you expect me to do, just sit at home and hope you make it back? When I know that nobody will protect you better than me, because nobody loves you more than I do! Lord have mercy, because I might just fucking shoot you myself before you can go out there and get eaten by Walkers!”
She sorta gapes, open mouthed, like a fish out of water as she ends her tirade. Shoving a hand against her chest, she visibly calms herself, and for the first time in more than a week, Daryl has the insane urge to smile. She's a beauty, this girl of his, and it's not just what his eyes can see; it's all this gumption inside her, everything about her that proves again and again that he 'married up' for lack of a better term.
She reads him all wrong for once in her life as she points a finger threateningly at him and accuses, “Don’t you dare laugh at me.”
Well, maybe he does want to laugh, but it's not to make fun of her; it's on account of the pure joy she brings to his life, even at this, one of their worst moments.
He can't remember what he did before Beth Greene, and he doesn't want to. This is how life should be, so it's how it's always been. He's rewriting history, but it's his own private deviation, so it's okay.
Michonne beats on the wall and reminds them, “It’s four o’clock in the morning, y’all,” so he allows a chuckle to erupt his throat, softly, shortly.
He makes her swear to never leave his side, once they're out on the road, and that's all there is to it. Deal made, spit shake (not really, but metaphorically), and they're off.
It isn't until they actually roll out of the gates that panic nearly undoes him. They've had their moments leading up to this one, things that made it obvious that they're worried about not coming back from this run. (Like leaving a note for Glenn and Maggie, like a coupla pussies.) At the same time, Daryl had never had more cause to come back safely; at the prison there had always been the knowledge that people were depending on him, and that had been strong motivation. But the idea of seeing Beth walking down the aisle in a soft white dress with flowers in her hair and Maggie following behind her? Somehow that mental image was more powerful than any other thing he'd ever had in his head.
He'll get them both back so they can have that moment, the one he never even knew he wanted until he watched Glenn's face as the Greene sisters walked towards them both.
He and Beth climb up in the back of one trucks in their caravan, riding for the first stretch. They will all take walking shifts, and the caravan will never be going too fast that people can't get to higher ground relatively quickly (trucks, tanks, and like vehicles made a long procession out of the city). Heading toward Richmond, Virginia to see what and who were left along the way, this mission was only supposed to last one month, just to see how things went.
Thirty days, that's all. They could do it, Daryl hoped.
(Daryl might've even prayed, you know, since that's what Beth was doing anyway. She knelt next to their bed, and what else was he gonna do? Usually he just waited silently for her, but that morning, he had joined with her for the first time. She'd made no remark about it, but took his hand in hers as she said what was on her mind. It had made him feel better, at least for about an hour.)
By old measuring tactics, it would take two hours by car to travel from D.C. to Richmond, but because they would be scouring the areas near and far of the main highways, as well as the greater city area and the suburban neighborhoods, they had a goal of reaching the destination within two weeks, so as to give them the same amount of time to return, retracing their steps in a different direction to cover as much ground as possible.
It was all just a crapshoot; no one knew what would happen or how soon they might turn back. But as far as plans went, that's what they had.
Beth's eyes meet his, and the resolve he sees there makes him buck up slightly. She might be all that stands between him and certain death, but he trusts her more than anyone else in their company.
(He also loves her more than anyone else in their company.)
Four days out, they take a small detour, on foot, through a wooded area that comes out on a smallish, dilapidated neighborhood. He and Beth are in front, with Abraham, Rosita and three other guys flanking them.
They haven't seen a living person in all that time, but the Dead are fairly thin out here, too, which in a weird way makes Daryl more hopeful. Muscle memory is super strong, though, because he can still kill Walkers quickly and easily.
Beth had taken up her weapons without so much as a backward glance either.
As they come up on the broadside of a fenced yard where the fence is still intact, they're all very quiet, listening for the familiar guttural sound that comes from a Herd. In the silence, all Daryl can pick up is the wind whistling through the trees.
He sees something out of the corner of his eye and he turns on instinct, just in time to see the backside of some human, at a distance, running away. Before he can acknowledge that he's seen anything so he can gesture them forward, Beth breaks formation.
She calls, "Wait!" and takes off running. Daryl throws a hand out, automatically trying to grab her and keep her close, but he's too late. She sprints away, never once looking back. As she disappears into the treeline on the other side of the fenced yard, Daryl doesn't look back at Abraham, he simply follows after her. They had sworn to stay together, and he has no idea why she just left him in the dust.
He doesn't shout her name (or the swear words that bubble at his lips) because if there are Walkers, he doesn't want to do anything to attract them. As he re-enters the forest, his eyes seek out the signs of where her feet landed as she ran through here just moments before. It's a trail he can follow easily, and when he sees the sun bouncing off the yellow of her hair, the relief that flows through him gives way to anger ridiculously fast.
"What. The. Actual. Fuck, Beth!" he whispers loudly as he comes up on her left side.
Her head jerks slightly in his direction at his approach, but she doesn't turn to face him. As he peers over her shoulder, he sees what she sees, in a little copse of trees.
A boy, with dark greasy hair falling across his eyes sits huddled protectively over a baby. It's hard to tell how old either of them are, at least for Daryl who never paid much attention to kids before Carl and Little Asskicker came into his life, but using those kids as his only references, he knows that the boy must be a few years younger than Carl is now, and that the baby is definitely smaller than Judith, and unable to walk quite yet.
Beth puts her hands out, and slowly lowers her weapons to the forest floor. "We're not here to hurt you," she says gently. Daryl can't see her face, but he imagines she's smiling for some reason. "You don't gotta be afraid," she says, lowering herself to a squatting position.
He waits for the kid to respond, expects to see some kind of expression, even through all the hair, that shows that the kid understands and accepts Beth's sweetness.
Instead, he flips his hair outta his face and all but snarls like a rabid dog. "Fuck you, bitch," he growls.
Then he brandishes a knife of his own, and the blade gleams menacingly as the sun hits it. It's at least nine inches long. He scoops the baby up into his arms and it starts to wail frantically; he takes a lunging run at Beth, and Daryl reacts quickly. He rounds Beth on the right, taking the kid by surprise. He grabs at the arm holding the weapon and knocks it out of his grasp, then he shoves the baby over so that he can plant his knee in the middle of the kid's scrawny chest. Once Daryl's got him flat on his back on the ground, the baby howls even louder.
That's when Beth yells, "Daryl! Walkers!"
...chapter two...
Author: badboy_fangirl
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Characters/Pairings: Daryl & Beth POV; Daryl/Beth; with appearances by everyone else.
Word Count: ~4600
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 / Spoilers through all of season four.
Summary:
Author's notes: This is a companion/continuation fic to Empty Handed and Holding On. The title for this story and the opening quote are lifted from the song "Broken Ones" by Jacquie Lee.
we've all been broken once, so let's love the broken ones
"See ya tomorrow, Dixon," Maggie calls as Daryl clocks out. He tosses her a fuck you look because she does this every day, thinking it's the most hilarious joke for some reason. "Be good to my sister," she finishes up, like always.
He sends her a fuck you finger gesture as well, and the grin that splits her face almost makes his irritation fade.
Almost.
He knows he's just sensitive; there's a part of him (that will probably always remain) that never quite accepts that all this's real. That he lives in a city that's Walker-free where he has a respectable job making sure it stays that way, and that he goes home every day to this beautiful young girl who, somehow, chose him, and thinks he's the greatest fucking thing that ever happened to her.
Who says shit like, "I'm not sayin' I'm glad the Turn happened, but I am glad that this--" she points back and forth between their bodies to indicate them "--happened. And I realize it probably never woulda happened without the Turn, so it's kinda confusing, right? I mean, don't you think it's okay to find beauty in a broken world, in whatever way you can, and just be grateful for it, without havin' to justify it?"
He just nodded, because the reason she had even been saying it was because some bitch she worked with had tried to make her feel bad for being happy. When that same bitch had never even been out with Walkers, or been raped, or seen their daddy get his head chopped off.
Beth'd had to pin him to the bed to keep him from going down to her work and giving this 'Lydia' person a piece of his mind. All he knew was he hated her, whoever she was, because who could look at Beth's smile and ever do anything to try to make it stop? Was she fucking blind?
"Daryl," Beth said cajolingly, sitting atop him. "She doesn't matter. I just needed to vent. And you think I'm right, doncha?"
"'Course you're right," he muttered, resting his hands on her hips, hooking his thumbs in the beltloops of her jeans. "And," he added for good measure. "That woman's a bitch."
Beth's face reddened a bit when he said that, and then she got this gleam in her eye, the one he knew very well. She raised up on her knees to undo his pants and he grew hard in her hand. It took some contortionist moves to get her out of her jeans and panties because she refused to climb all the way off him. By the time he was running his fingers teasingly through the soft curls between her legs, they were both giggling like a couple of kids.
(In those first few months with Beth, Daryl'd had more sex than ever before in his life. He'd never been that into getting tail, much to Merle's disappointment, and he remembered too many times when his older brother harassed him about not even liking girls.)
As she sank down on him, she made a humming sound in her throat, but she was still giggling just a bit, and he could feel the vibrations of it throughout her body into his. He reached up and slowly pushed her shirt upwards until she helped by pulling it off over her head. Then he tugged one bra strap down until a breast peeped out at him. Thumbing her nipple gently, she stopped giggling, and the hum went into a deep moan that had her head falling back on her shoulders.
She moved up and down on him, slowly, for a while before she brought her eyes back to his to say, "You feel so, so, so good, god." She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, and Daryl felt himself swell bigger, at either her words, or her actions, he wasn't real sure. "I don't know how I lived without it," she whimpered.
(Yeah, the issue had never been that Daryl didn't like girls.)
He understands, now.
He hadn't liked sex just for the sake of sex. With Beth it was a way to communicate that didn't involve words (or at least words he had to think too much about -- sometimes things just came out of his mouth, surprising them both, like when he started babbling about how the reason he felt so good to her was because he wasn't cut, and some people didn't even know it, but being uncut gave a woman a lot more to feel, and it wasn't half bad for the fella either, to which Beth had smiled on a downward movement, her hands braced against his chest. "I know, Daryl," she whispered, and he wondered how she knew that, being as there were lots of other things she hadn't known until he showed/told her, but she followed that with a hip swivel that nearly ended him and the words, Michonne told me, and then he was coming, not because of Michonne's name being tossed out there, but because Beth suddenly got there herself, and nothing triggered his orgasm faster than her clenching around him in her own ecstasy), and Daryl fucking loved that.
Because words often failed him, especially when it came to Beth.
There was all this stuff in his head, had been for months and months, and even though part of him really wants to tell her everything, showing her is much easier. Pleasing her, making her gasp and moan and say his name? Yeah, he just really fucking loves it.
(Merle'd probably still think it was pussy behavior, but Daryl silenced that voice in his head long ago.)
Sometimes he lays in bed, in the early morning hours, when he's supposed to get up and go to work before her, and just watches her sleeping. He gets off on that in a strange way, too. The satisfaction of her serenity, is, in his bones, the only thing that really matters.
As time passes, and his contentment stretches out, other thoughts start to worm their way in.
Ones that involve more than being naked with Beth and lying comfortably in a bed with her forever. Because while that is everything that he can imagine ever wanting, there is this niggling reminder at the back of his mind about the rest of the world.
The Turn is the best thing that ever happened to him, but he knows that's not the case for most everyone else.
And Maggie's clichéd parting words on the days she works with him is just one reminder of it.
Another happens to be waiting for him in the locker room at work on a day when Maggie's shift doesn't coincide with Daryl's.
"Hey, Abraham," he says, shocked to see the man who had never quite become his friend through Terminus and traveling to Washington and all that. They'd been allies, for sure, but by then Daryl had had his wall up, good and solid, keeping any and all extra people out. He had lost Beth and he wouldn't lose anyone else he loved, but at the time Abraham, Rosita, and (especially) Eugene, woulda been the people he threw under the bus.
Luckily, it had never come to that, but still. Daryl is in a different place now, but the memories that come in strong at the sight of Abraham's red hair and crazy mustache are still somewhat painful.
"Whatcha doin' here?" Daryl asks as Abraham moves forward to shake his hand.
"Lookin' for you," he says. "You gotta few?"
Daryl puts his stuff in his locker and nods his head. "Yeah, I'm just headed home, so no rush."
"Where you living?" Abraham asks.
Daryl shuts the locker door. "I'm in a house over on Colorado Avenue. Why?"
"Just curious as to where they put you."
Daryl half-smiles. "They didn't put me anywhere. I'm living there with my girl, and she was living there before we got here. I just moved in with her."
Abraham smiles, too. "The little blonde? Maggie's sister, right?"
"Right," Daryl says.
When he adds nothing more, Abraham clears his throat. "I'm just gonna get right to the point here, Dixon. You're a good man, a good soldier. I watched you when we were out there, and you're the kinda man I'da recruited back in the day. And I'm kinda recruitin' you now, but it's top secret, so you can't say anything to anyone, until everything's official. I wanted to come and talk to you, personally, give you some time to think on it."
"Think on what?" Daryl asks.
"They're getting ready to announce that they've created a cure. Eugene's theory worked, and they've been running trials on folks, and it's working. So we're gonna have to take it out, to the people who are still outside our walls. And I want you on my team when we go."
Daryl leans back against the bank of lockers, mostly out of shock. All that information, spewed so quickly at him, all but takes his legs out from under him. The biggest reason they'd started for Washington had been because of Eugene's claims that he could cure the virus, but Daryl never bought it for one second. And since they'd been in the city walls, he hadn't thought anything of it, though from time to time Rick would mention something about Abraham or Eugene.
"I know it's a lot to ask, but we need people who know what they're doing out there, and I can't ask everyone from our original group to come. So I chose you and Sasha. Anybody you bring with you is up to you, but I'm not asking anyone else from that group. Y'all can do the recruitin' beyond yourselves."
Daryl just shakes his head, not sure what to say.
"I mean, if you decide to come along," Abraham clarifies. He moves toward Daryl, but doesn't crowd him. With an earnest expression on his face, he adds, "There are people needin' savin', Dixon. You strike me as the type to get it done."
Daryl watches as he turns away. He walks to the door of the locker room, glancing over his shoulder just as he pulls it open. "I'll respect whatever you decide, but I'd feel a lot better with you out there with me."
In the silence that follows, Daryl's decision is agonizingly easy.
He fucks Beth in the pantry of all places.
There is no other word for it. He sees her in there, and his need to possess her takes a savage turn. Or at least, in comparison with the way he's ever laid hands on her before, it feels savage.
(He feels like a savage, using her like that when he knows he's gonna leave her.)
"That was...wow," Beth says breathlessly, her head leaning on a loaf of bread on the shelf in front of her.
His hands are still palming her breasts, the shuddering of her chest causing them to tremble under his touch. "Sorry," he whispers, not really sure what he's apologizing for.
A choked laugh escapes her, and her hands cover his over her shirt. She squeezes his hands, and stretches back a little. "I'm not," she says brightly. "But help me stand up, here. I don't want to end up face-planting in the bag of flour down there. I can't handle the idea of explaining to Carol or Michonne how I broke my nose in the pantry."
Daryl can't stop his own laughter at the scandalized way she says the word.
He flicks his thumbs caressingly over her nipples once more before sliding his hands down to her hips, keeping her steady as she shuffles forward. He hadn't gotten so far as removing any of their clothes completely, and her jeans and panties are around her ankles. She bends down to pull them up slightly, and because of his position on the step ladder, her ass is practically in his face.
Not that he minds, obviously. He holds on to her and leans forward, pressing his lips into one of the dimples at the small of her back where her shirt has ridden up. Resting his forehead against her, he rubs his nose over the smooth soft skin there. It's a bit of an awkward hug, but Beth doesn't seem to mind. She pats a hand over one of his, but says nothing, letting the moment ease along at its own pace. He finally lets her go, but only when her words fully register about their housemates knowing about what they've done in this community spot.
"Yeah, I guess we oughta get outta here, huh?" he asks.
Beth straightens up, pulling her pants with her. She throws a sly smile over her shoulder and whispers naughtily, "What they don't know can't hurt them!"
Daryl remembers teaching her to use his crossbow, and can't help but feel like she shot him straight through without even meaning to.
Daryl is certain of two things: one, he has to go with Abraham; and two, nothing hurts worse than Beth's righteous anger. Of all the emotions he's felt for her or watched her go through separate from him, having her mad at him, and knowing he deserves it, are the worst places he's ever been.
He doesn't know what to do about it, so he stays away. But he doesn't seek solace from Rick or Glenn, or anyone. What could they say? Nothing he hasn't already gone through in his own mind, that's for damn sure. No one can talk him out of it, because he knows it's the right thing. He just never realized how much doing the right thing could hurt a person. In some ways it was almost as bad as doing the wrong thing, and he had plenty of experience with that.
The thing is, see, that Beth makes it fucking impossible to do the wrong thing. Not because she couldn't just say Daryl, I don't want you to go; he would obey her command without much hesitation. But she'll never say that, and he knows it.
What Beth means in Daryl's life is that he has accepted that he's a good person and that he does the right thing. It didn't start because of her, it started because of him; he might even trace it back to the time Carol told him he was every bit as good as Rick or Shane. But because of Beth, because of the gift she's been in his life, he can't--not ever--just go on with his life with her and never look back. His second chance is all wrapped up in her, and the least he can do is offer second chances to every other person he can physically reach.
He knows how valuable it is and the idea of not going with Abraham is the same as not looking for Sophia--not an option.
When he finally does go home, it's the middle of the night. The house is dark, and it strikes him as strange that he's just walking quietly through it to his and Beth's bedroom. He's not drunk; he hasn't done anything to avoid what's about to happen. Well, he avoided it for a few hours, but still. He intends to face the music.
He'll do what little he can to mend her broken heart. Like make all the promises he needs to make and give her some sort of gesture of how much he loves her, because he can't go back on his word to Abraham.
Making Beth come has been his favorite pastime since, you know, the first time he did it, but there is a huge tragedy in the undertaking this night. He can feel in every stroke of his fingers that it's not right, that it's not communicating what he's come to rely on so heavily over the last several months. Even so, he doesn't stop until she's quivering around him, and with her nails in the tender skin of his neck, he welcomes his own discomfort, both there and the ache elsewhere that he doesn't intend to satisfy.
But when she tells him she's going with him, it's as effective as being doused with ice cold water, and that has never happened to Daryl with Beth.
He moves away from her, mostly because the desire to hold on to her so tightly he can never lose her seems to pulse under his skin the way his blood had moments ago. Then she flicks the bedside lamp on and turns slightly so she can see him. He can feel her watching him, just waiting, but they both know there's nothing to say. He would never boss her, and she sure as hell would never be bossed, so.
Stalemate, he thinks it's called.
Then he thinks of Maggie. Be good to my sister. He lets out a breath and says the only thing that pops into his head. “Maggie’ll fuckin’ murder me for takin’ you with.”
She doesn't even take a whole beat to respond. “Maggie’ll get over it.”
“Like your gettin’ over it?” he scoffs. His fingers twitch with wanting to grab at her, so he jams his entire arm under the pillow beneath his head to keep himself under control.
A glare pierces his skin as he lets his eyes meet hers. “You think this is retaliation?” she asks.
He can feel her vibrating in a totally new way now, without his fingers inside her. “The fuck, Beth? I hurt you, so you’ll hurt me, right? I can at least call a spade a spade.”
It scares the shit out of him when she leaps off their bed. They've been talking in hushed tones since it's the middle of the fucking night, but that flies out the window when Beth yells, “I’m not tryin’ to hurt you, you stupid sonofabitch! I’m trying to make sure you survive! And if I’m out there with you, I know you’ll be extra careful, but I’ll also have your back. We’ve had this fight before, but let me remind you, I survived, too! It’s not just dumb luck that I made it here! I was the one who had no survival skills, but somehow made it out of the prison with you. I was the one who believed there was good in a world gone to hell, and I was the one who got stolen by some hillbilly lowlifes that raped me! And I’m your woman, Daryl Dixon. What do you expect me to do, just sit at home and hope you make it back? When I know that nobody will protect you better than me, because nobody loves you more than I do! Lord have mercy, because I might just fucking shoot you myself before you can go out there and get eaten by Walkers!”
She sorta gapes, open mouthed, like a fish out of water as she ends her tirade. Shoving a hand against her chest, she visibly calms herself, and for the first time in more than a week, Daryl has the insane urge to smile. She's a beauty, this girl of his, and it's not just what his eyes can see; it's all this gumption inside her, everything about her that proves again and again that he 'married up' for lack of a better term.
She reads him all wrong for once in her life as she points a finger threateningly at him and accuses, “Don’t you dare laugh at me.”
Well, maybe he does want to laugh, but it's not to make fun of her; it's on account of the pure joy she brings to his life, even at this, one of their worst moments.
He can't remember what he did before Beth Greene, and he doesn't want to. This is how life should be, so it's how it's always been. He's rewriting history, but it's his own private deviation, so it's okay.
Michonne beats on the wall and reminds them, “It’s four o’clock in the morning, y’all,” so he allows a chuckle to erupt his throat, softly, shortly.
He makes her swear to never leave his side, once they're out on the road, and that's all there is to it. Deal made, spit shake (not really, but metaphorically), and they're off.
It isn't until they actually roll out of the gates that panic nearly undoes him. They've had their moments leading up to this one, things that made it obvious that they're worried about not coming back from this run. (Like leaving a note for Glenn and Maggie, like a coupla pussies.) At the same time, Daryl had never had more cause to come back safely; at the prison there had always been the knowledge that people were depending on him, and that had been strong motivation. But the idea of seeing Beth walking down the aisle in a soft white dress with flowers in her hair and Maggie following behind her? Somehow that mental image was more powerful than any other thing he'd ever had in his head.
He'll get them both back so they can have that moment, the one he never even knew he wanted until he watched Glenn's face as the Greene sisters walked towards them both.
He and Beth climb up in the back of one trucks in their caravan, riding for the first stretch. They will all take walking shifts, and the caravan will never be going too fast that people can't get to higher ground relatively quickly (trucks, tanks, and like vehicles made a long procession out of the city). Heading toward Richmond, Virginia to see what and who were left along the way, this mission was only supposed to last one month, just to see how things went.
Thirty days, that's all. They could do it, Daryl hoped.
(Daryl might've even prayed, you know, since that's what Beth was doing anyway. She knelt next to their bed, and what else was he gonna do? Usually he just waited silently for her, but that morning, he had joined with her for the first time. She'd made no remark about it, but took his hand in hers as she said what was on her mind. It had made him feel better, at least for about an hour.)
By old measuring tactics, it would take two hours by car to travel from D.C. to Richmond, but because they would be scouring the areas near and far of the main highways, as well as the greater city area and the suburban neighborhoods, they had a goal of reaching the destination within two weeks, so as to give them the same amount of time to return, retracing their steps in a different direction to cover as much ground as possible.
It was all just a crapshoot; no one knew what would happen or how soon they might turn back. But as far as plans went, that's what they had.
Beth's eyes meet his, and the resolve he sees there makes him buck up slightly. She might be all that stands between him and certain death, but he trusts her more than anyone else in their company.
(He also loves her more than anyone else in their company.)
Four days out, they take a small detour, on foot, through a wooded area that comes out on a smallish, dilapidated neighborhood. He and Beth are in front, with Abraham, Rosita and three other guys flanking them.
They haven't seen a living person in all that time, but the Dead are fairly thin out here, too, which in a weird way makes Daryl more hopeful. Muscle memory is super strong, though, because he can still kill Walkers quickly and easily.
Beth had taken up her weapons without so much as a backward glance either.
As they come up on the broadside of a fenced yard where the fence is still intact, they're all very quiet, listening for the familiar guttural sound that comes from a Herd. In the silence, all Daryl can pick up is the wind whistling through the trees.
He sees something out of the corner of his eye and he turns on instinct, just in time to see the backside of some human, at a distance, running away. Before he can acknowledge that he's seen anything so he can gesture them forward, Beth breaks formation.
She calls, "Wait!" and takes off running. Daryl throws a hand out, automatically trying to grab her and keep her close, but he's too late. She sprints away, never once looking back. As she disappears into the treeline on the other side of the fenced yard, Daryl doesn't look back at Abraham, he simply follows after her. They had sworn to stay together, and he has no idea why she just left him in the dust.
He doesn't shout her name (or the swear words that bubble at his lips) because if there are Walkers, he doesn't want to do anything to attract them. As he re-enters the forest, his eyes seek out the signs of where her feet landed as she ran through here just moments before. It's a trail he can follow easily, and when he sees the sun bouncing off the yellow of her hair, the relief that flows through him gives way to anger ridiculously fast.
"What. The. Actual. Fuck, Beth!" he whispers loudly as he comes up on her left side.
Her head jerks slightly in his direction at his approach, but she doesn't turn to face him. As he peers over her shoulder, he sees what she sees, in a little copse of trees.
A boy, with dark greasy hair falling across his eyes sits huddled protectively over a baby. It's hard to tell how old either of them are, at least for Daryl who never paid much attention to kids before Carl and Little Asskicker came into his life, but using those kids as his only references, he knows that the boy must be a few years younger than Carl is now, and that the baby is definitely smaller than Judith, and unable to walk quite yet.
Beth puts her hands out, and slowly lowers her weapons to the forest floor. "We're not here to hurt you," she says gently. Daryl can't see her face, but he imagines she's smiling for some reason. "You don't gotta be afraid," she says, lowering herself to a squatting position.
He waits for the kid to respond, expects to see some kind of expression, even through all the hair, that shows that the kid understands and accepts Beth's sweetness.
Instead, he flips his hair outta his face and all but snarls like a rabid dog. "Fuck you, bitch," he growls.
Then he brandishes a knife of his own, and the blade gleams menacingly as the sun hits it. It's at least nine inches long. He scoops the baby up into his arms and it starts to wail frantically; he takes a lunging run at Beth, and Daryl reacts quickly. He rounds Beth on the right, taking the kid by surprise. He grabs at the arm holding the weapon and knocks it out of his grasp, then he shoves the baby over so that he can plant his knee in the middle of the kid's scrawny chest. Once Daryl's got him flat on his back on the ground, the baby howls even louder.
That's when Beth yells, "Daryl! Walkers!"
...chapter two...