Chapter Text
Daryl shifted beside her, finally taking her offer of the other half of the blanket and wrapping it around his shoulders, their arms brushing against each other. They both watched Rick in silence, listening to each other's breathing.
“I miss the farmhouse too,” he told her.
The kitchen was too damn hot, Beth had decided. No, the whole damn prison was too hot. She felt as if she could constantly feel the beads of sweat running down the line of her back. The damp curls at the back of her neck annoyed her constantly and sweat stains had become the bane of her existence come laundry day. Working in the kitchen with Carol didn’t help Beth’s frustrations, it seemed like they were constantly boiling something - and when they did use the oven, it felt like the galley became twenty degrees hotter damn near instantly.
She was on kitchen duty again today, though she technically had put herself there. She found Carol’s quiet presence comforting and the woman didn’t feel the need to fill silences. Sometimes the only sounds were the two women cooking and Judith quietly throwing a fit in her crib, unhappy that someone wouldn’t hold her.
She was a good baby, a great one, even. They had all lucked up, considering she could have been a screamer. The baby was easily occupied with toys and shiny things, like spoons. Her favorite toy was a compact mirror Beth had found in one of the guard towers, constantly giggling at her own tiny reflection. She had been wary at first, being around a kid after being tormented by hoards of toddlers for weeks. But Judith was wonderful, and Beth sometimes couldn’t help but give in and hold her like the girl wanted.
Kitchen duty allowed Beth the time and space to think over everything that had happened, from farm to prison. It was too much and she had gone to bed with a headache the past four nights - but it was something she had needed. She tried her best to write it all out in her diary, for the sake of keeping track. It had taken a week and a half and lots of lost hours of sleep, but the diary was nearly half full by the time she was finished. She kept the few entries from the road, too attached to rip them out and toss them.
Luckily, writing it out and reading it from a fresh perspective had helped Beth come to a few realizations.
- The Governor was for sure going to come to kick her ass and keep her head in a fish tank, there was no way he hadn’t somehow made it out of Woodbury alive, he was too resourceful.
- She was a lucky son of a bitch.
- Andrea was a horrible person, but so was Beth, and she now understood that the world had made them that way.
- She still wasn’t over her mother’s death. Or Shawn’s.
- She had been too hard on Maggie. Beth had been mean just for the sake of being mean, and life was too short not to reach out to her sister. Maggie could apologize, though.
- Her father was a wonderful man and no one in the group deserved him.
- She was so in love with Daryl Dixon that it hurt.
She had looked at her little list every night before bed, erasing and rewriting little things here and there. She wished the last one could have been more descriptive, but she could never get the words just right. She couldn’t put into words how attached she had become to him, or how she would literally get on her knees and beg for everything to go back to the way it had been before he pulled away.
He was avoiding her, yet he wasn’t . He sat next to her at mealtimes, he invited her to walk the fences with him during his shifts, he would find her in the library and sit with her for a few minutes before wandering off into the aisles - he was being her friend and that’s what she had asked for, but it wasn’t enough, and she hated herself for feeling that way. It just wasn’t the same anymore, now that the string had been cut between them. Even if he tried to be her friend, it all felt awkward and forced, like he was just doing it for her sake, which hurt more than the thought of losing their relationship altogether.
She loved him, she loved him more than she thought she could ever love anyone. She thought she had been broken in high school, pushing away those attachments because she didn’t have room for them in her head, filled with awful voices whispering things to her constantly. She had always thought she had been saving herself, skipping out on the heartbreak when those friends and partners would inevitably leave or do wrong. She had done it to Jimmy, she had done it to her childhood friend Amanda months before the girl left for college. The trait of hers should have stayed with her at the end of the world because it was even more applicable now - everyone died, and usually horribly. Relationships and attachments seemed dangerous and pointless, yet Beth just couldn’t bring herself to feel that way anymore.
She had become attached to Rose and Melody. Merle Dixon had been a good friend for a while there, and Carol seemingly filled more of his shoes every day.
But Daryl? God, it hurt. It hurt to think about how attached she was to him. And she hated it. She hated the empty, horrible feeling in her stomach when he left with Glenn on runs and the gate closed behind them. She hated it when her day instantly got better when he sat and spoke with her, even if it was to make a silly joke or complain about something. She was attached to his smiles and his hands, the way his eyebrows would scrunch when someone said something stupid, how he stole books from her hands and wouldn’t give it back until she answered his questions about the plot. She loved him and he was it. Maybe he had been right and it was because they had only had each other for so long, but Beth didn’t care. If she had any say so, no one else would have Daryl Dixon - and it hurt that she didn’t have the right to say that.
The sudden sound of banging pots pulled Beth out of her thoughts, followed by a soft voice and pasta draining into the sink.
“What did that tomato ever do to you?” Carol asked, popping a stray noodle into her mouth.
Beth peered down at the tomato she had been chopping, now reduced to mush. She was surprised she hadn’t chopped one of her fingers off by accident. She made a face as she flicked some of the goop off of her fingers, adding the tomato to the pile of already diced ones anyway - no reason to waste it because she hadn’t been paying attention.
Beth avoided Carol’s eyes, shrugging apologetically as she slid the knife into the pile of dirty utensils next to her. She would wash them all after dinner. The woman rolled her eyes and tossed the drained pasta into a serving dish.
“Hand me those tomatoes now, will you? I finished the salad.” Beth nodded, handing over the cutting board into Carol’s open hands. Rick and Carl’s garden had been extremely lucrative, seemingly an endless supply of vegetables. Beth had been teaching Carol how to can and if they kept it up, they’d have a pretty good stash for the winter.
She wiped a hand across her forehead with an angry sigh, turning around in an attempt to find something else to do with her hands, but she saw that Carol had seemingly prepared everything already. She felt a twinge of guilt, mostly because it seemed she had been zoning out more and more often, but Carol hadn’t seemed to mind, simply dragging Beth back when she was lost in her head for too long.
Carol hummed a quiet tune, scattering the tomatoes over the salad and reaching up to grab the canned tomato sauce off one of the shelves. Beth swore it tasted more like metal than tomatoes. Beth stood there, unwittingly clenching her fists at her sides. She needed something to do or else -
“So, what’s got you all worked up?”
Beth locked eyes with her, running her hands down the front of her apron with a shake of her head, “I’ve just been tired, ‘is all.”
Wow, that’s a bullshit excuse.
The woman pursed her lips, sprinkling salt over the batch of pasta, “Not sleeping too good? I haven’t been either, just too damn hot to even think about it.”
Carol gestured for a spoon and Beth scrambled to get it from the drawer, nodding in quiet agreement. Judith babbled from her travel crib, stripped down to a diaper so she didn’t overheat like the rest of them.
“I used to sleep with three fans pointed at me, my husband hated it. What I wouldn’t do to get those bad boys back now, I’ll tell ‘ya,” Carol told her, sending a gentle smile her way. Beth tried her best to hide the sudden wave of disgust that passed over her, Daryl had told her about Carol’s husband . Beth was glad he died the way he did, Carol deserved the world.
Carol wiped her hands on the front of her apron and looked around at their work with a happy sigh, perking up when the doors to the atrium echoed through the makeshift dining hall, quiet conversation followed.
Beth moved to grab the pile of plates, but Carol’s hand stopped her.
“Oh, wait! Give me one second before we start bringing stuff out, alright?” The woman gave her a bright smile, something about it off, before patting her shoulder and disappearing out the door with a quiet, “I’ll be right back!”
Beth relented, stepping back and peering at Judith in her crib. The girl was tugging at one of her mobile toys, seemingly entertaining herself. Beth decided to busy herself by getting the baby’s bottle ready, which would give her something to do. She went through the practiced motions of measuring out the formula, dumping it into the pretty pink bottle Daryl had found the girl on a run.
She hummed as she worked, ignoring the beginnings of a headache at the base of her skull. She saw the shadow of a person slip into the kitchen out of the corner of her eye and she nearly asked Carol a random question she had about formula until she heard Daryl’s quiet voice behind her.
“Hey, little ass-kicker,” he teased, tugging the girl up and onto his hip with ease. She released a string of giggles and babbles, reaching desperately for one of his curls - another one of her favorite toys.
Beth hid her smile, clearing her throat as she shook the formula up - probably more than she needed to, but it kept her from having to face the man behind her for a few seconds longer.
She relented and spun on her heels, unable to hide her smile at the baby’s obvious obsession with Daryl, staring up at him with what could only be described as reverence. It seemed she and Judith shared a favorite person.
Beth cleared her throat again, shifting on her feet. Was she the one making it awkward, she wondered?
“How was your day?” She asked, her voice cracking slightly as she held the bottle out to him. He took it without touching her hand. She nearly smacked herself at her stupid question, because she knew exactly how his day went. She had watched him leave the fences with Glenn that morning after breakfast for a run.
“Long,” he told her, adjusting Judith, “Carol said you needed my help?”
Beth startled, eyebrows scrunching, then remembered Carol’s weird smile and oh, that little -!
Beth coughed before averting her eyes, “Yeah, do you mind taking Judy? I can grab the dishes and stuff.” Daryl nodded before disappearing out the door with the baby in tow, quietly whispering to her about God only knew what.
Was she that obvious in her affection towards Daryl? She thought that from anyone else's perspective they would just look like close friends, people who survived together for a year. She had been so careful, especially around Maggie, had she really slipped up that much that even Carol could tell? God, could Daryl?
The only person that just seemed to know was her father. She couldn’t have done anything to stop that, he just knew her too well. She still hadn’t recovered from the stunt he had pulled when they had first gotten there, she was pretty sure she was still feeling the embarrassment from that.
Carol flitted through the kitchen door again, a happy smile on her face. Beth glared at her, but the woman just seemed to take it in stride. She let out a sigh before grabbing the salad bowl and pile of plates before heading out into the mess hall, careful not to let her sweaty hand cause the plates to slip.
She had nearly made it to the table when a smaller shadow slunk towards her, the woman’s dreadlocks tied back with a random piece of fabric. It made her look younger, Beth decided.
Michonne and Beth had spoken the day after she woke up, after breakfast. Daryl sat in, much to the annoyance of Michonne, but she relented after a bit. Daryl knew everything anyway.
Michonne had been there to kill the Governor like she had told Beth that night. She had been the woman at the gate with Andrea, as Beth had thought. She had apparently found the woman after the farm fell and they had traveled together, nearly in the same boat as Daryl and Beth.
“Your brother tried to kill me,” the woman said, glare directed at Daryl’s chest instead of his face. Beth shifted uncomfortably, trying not to imagine Merle Dixon hunting a human for sport. The thought nearly made her shiver.
Daryl let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Seems like he’s done a lot of shit lately,”
Beth held her hands up in mock surrender, clearing her throat, “Daryl isn’t his brother, you can trust him.”
Michonne seemed to think about this for a moment or two, eyeing Daryl from beneath her lashes. She finally nodded.
“The Governor is a lunatic,” she whispered, looking anywhere but the two of them.
“We know,” Beth told her, and she swore she saw the woman’s shoulders relax.
Beth gave her a smile as she slid the salad bowl onto one of the tables, centering one of the napkins she had placed earlier. The woman’s eyes still flicked nervously around the room, Beth noticed, and she wondered if that habit would ever go away or if it was permanently ingrained into her. Her leg seemed to be healing nicely, she barely limped anymore. She had a nasty concussion, though.
“How’s your head today?” Beth asked, motioning for Michonne to follow her into the kitchen - the more hands the better and luckily Daryl was occupied with the baby, Beth made sure of that.
The woman shrugged, grabbing the large bowl of pasta without being asked, leaving Beth to carry out the pitcher of water.
“You took the bandage off?” the woman asked, looking at the jagged scar across Beth’s left cheek. It still hurt if she tugged at it wrong, but her dad had taken the stitches out this morning. She was thankful; that bulky bandage had gotten annoying after a day or two.
Beth cringed, unconsciously reaching up to run her finger down the raised skin - if she ever saw Merle Dixon again, she was socking him in the jaw. She looked like some low-budget comic book villain and her daddy had said it would scar.
Fuck Merle Dixon and his stupid knife-hand.
“Yeah, yeah, I look like an extra out of a mob movie, and not a good one,” Beth joked, careful not to spill any of the water as they made their way out the door. Michonne’s lip quirked up a bit and Beth saw that as a win.
She quickly told Michonne where to put the pasta and started filling up the water glasses, something she didn’t have to do, but it kept her mind empty for a bit.
Out of the corner of her eye, Oscar and Axel, she knew which one was which now, came from the hallway in a quiet storm of laughter, still wearing prison uniforms. She wondered if the jumpsuits were comforting - or if the rest of the group were unwilling to share clothes. She didn’t think any of their clothing would fit Oscar, unfortunately.
She watched Michonne slip onto the same bench as Daryl, who was quietly feeding Judith, bouncing her in his arms. They didn’t seem to speak to each other much, seemingly using Beth as a common factor, and she constantly felt like the bridge between the two. They seemed comfortable in the other’s silence though, so she let them be. There was just enough room for Beth in the middle, as always. At least they were both creatures of habit.
A voice behind startled her, nearly causing her to drop the basket of laundry she had picked up from one of the chairs, still needing to be folded.
“Smells good, did you cook all this?”
It was Axel. Only an inch or two taller than her and nearly as skinny. She distantly wondered how he kept his mustache so meticulous, even at the end of the world.
“Uh, no, I just helped,” she answered, not wanting to be rude. They were all living in close quarters together, after all. The two prisoners seemed nice enough (could she even call them prisoners anymore?) but Beth had simply become a cautious person, and she didn’t know Axel and Oscar from Adam. Also, they had been in prison , for crying out loud, and Beth really didn’t want to know why.
Beth suddenly made eye contact with Daryl across the cafeteria and she gave him a small smile, he gave her a half-assed attempt at one back before she looked away, her chest aching. Then she realized Axel was still standing in front of her, waiting for a reply. Had he asked her another question?
She shook her head, trying not to look the man in the eye for too long, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
A shadow came up behind her and she instantly recognized the smell of Daryl’s eucalyptus soap. God, did he orb over here?
His hand came up onto her elbow, taking the basket of laundry from her hands. Beth watched him curiously as he shot a nasty look at the other man.
“Don’t think it was anything important, come on,” he told her, gently kicking the back of her boot with his, and she made her way towards their table in a confused haze. Huh?
She swore she heard a quiet, “Back off,” as she neared Michonne, who was suddenly holding Judith and her bottle with a glassy look in her eyes as she peered at the baby. Beth couldn’t bring herself to look back at Axel, too stunned to do much else but sit herself down on the bench next to her friend.
She hoped this weird warning would keep the man from talking to her again. She could only politely laugh and make small-talk before it got weird - which it had. Her head suddenly hurt.
Daryl sat the basket down behind them, sliding into his usual spot at the end of the table after snatching Judith back from Michonne with a quiet thanks. She squirmed happily in his arms.
Before Beth could turn to ask what the hell was that, Daryl? Though she would have worded it nicer around other people, the sound of her father’s crutches against the concrete kept her mouth shut. He gave all four of them a happy smile, falling carefully into his seat across from Beth. Michonne shifted uncomfortably under his gaze and Daryl merely nodded in greeting.
“How was everyone’s day?” He asked, not directing the question at anyone in particular, though he knew Beth was always the one to answer. She went to fill up everyone’s water cups with a pitcher to keep her hands busy.
“It was good, how was yours, daddy?” She said, careful not to spill. Judith gurgled from Daryl’s lap, finished with her dinner.
She didn’t hear what her daddy said, but she assumed his day had been fine since he went ahead and started serving himself without waiting for her to respond.
The table grew quiet as everyone started to eat. She spotted Maggie a few chairs down, quietly whispering to Glenn as he ate. Carl had seemingly convinced Rick to come to eat with the others and Beth shot the man a small smile, which he returned shakily. Lori’s death had hit him hard.
She reached back to pet Gus on the top of the head, who had settled behind them next to his food bowl, munching on some kibble they had found him a few weeks ago. She hadn’t seen the dog lately. He was either with Daryl on the fences or up in the guard tower (because the dog would throw a fit if you didn’t carry him up there with you) or playing with Carl somewhere in the yard. He nudged her hand gently, licking her fingers, before going back to his own dinner. She was just glad he might finally be getting a balanced diet.
She watched Daryl out of the corner of her eye, eyeing his still full plate. She wasn’t going to say anything because she knew Judith got fussy after she ate and he was busy, but she would make sure he ate his goddamn dinner before he left this table. Just like in Woodbury, they had too much food for him to miss meals and give dumb excuses as to why he wasn’t eating.
Her daddy cleared his throat suddenly, his eyes shifting from Daryl, to Beth, to Rick further down the table.
“Daryl? How about you hand Judith off to Rick and eat your food? You’ve been busy today, son,” he said and Beth could feel the fatherly order beneath his nice words - he used that tone with her all the time too.
Daryl’s eyes grew wide for a split second, darting off to look at Rick and Carl, before nodding and quietly getting up, carefully adjusting the baby’s head. As he made his way down the table, Beth shot a questioning glance at her dad, who shrugged.
“I understand you two care for her, but Rick needs to step up and take care of his own daughter, he’s barely held her since she was born. The baby is going to start forming attachments with someone who isn’t her parent,” he explained, wiping his mouth before continuing, “I would rather you two be able to focus on yourselves than have to constantly worry about a baby that isn’t even yours.”
Beth sighed, watching as Daryl quietly conversed with Rick before handing off Judith with a forceful air. Maybe her daddy was right.
“It’s a team effort, raising her,” she whispered, watching the man’s eyes take on the same glassy look Michonne’s had not two minutes earlier.
“Well, it’s become too much of one, a baby needs their parent. Carl does too, for that matter,” he told her and his tone implied that they were done with that conversation.
Daryl quietly slipped back into his spot, pulling his plate closer. Beth was careful to make sure their thighs didn’t touch as the table drifted off into comfortable silence again. She still felt uneasy.
She felt uneasy because it wasn’t uncomfortable between them. Things had slipped right back into how they had been before they had kissed, and without a hitch Beth felt like she had her friend back.
She had asked him to be her friend and he was delivering on that promise, sitting next to her at meals and waving goodnight to her before heading off to his own cellblock (something that still irked her, him being put in a cellblock with those prisoners) but something was off . His smiles were tight and he never truly met her eyes, sitting as far away from her as he could.
And now, he gets defensive over her when Axel talks to her? Pulling her away and telling him to back off? She tried to stop the anger from forming, because he had no right to get defensive over who was talking to her, he had given that right up when he had ended things (though, really, what was there to end, Beth? One kiss? Come on! Don’t be ridiculous.) She just couldn’t bring herself to feel angry over it, she liked it, but it didn’t stop her from feeling confused over it all.
That natural flow that they had created during their time together seemed to have died with the potential of their relationship - and it hurt . She tried not to feel scorned, or pushed off like she hadn’t been good enough because she knew that wasn’t what he had meant with it all, but every time she thought about any of it, those cracks in her chest seemingly opened up and she didn’t know what to do.
Had they lost that easy, comforting feeling forever? Had reuniting with the group destroyed whatever space had been closing between them? She wanted to pull him off to the side and scream at him for making her feel this way - for making her care for him and then just tear away and tell her she can’t.
This back and forth hurt. One moment it seemed he cared for her, the next it seemed like he hated her. Was he just as confused as her, or was she just reading everything wrong? Were these caring moments just him making sure she was alright? Like something a big brother would do? Shawn would have done the same thing with Axel, is that the position he was slipping into? Her big brother? God, the thought made her nauseous.
Her daddy and Daryl’s quiet conversation interrupted her thoughts, glaring at her nearly full plate. She quickly shoveled a few forkfuls of pasta into her mouth before someone asked her why she wasn’t eating.
“Keep looking for those seeds, if we can find some Brussel sprouts, beans, maybe even some lettuce seeds, we can plant them before winter comes,” her daddy explained and Daryl nodded, moving his pasta around on his plate. He had eaten something, at least. Sometimes she wondered what he ran off of. Probably spite, she thought.
She was thankful her daddy seemed to have accepted Daryl as her friend, quietly engaging him in conversation whenever he was near him. Baseball, cars, and hunting seemed to be the three main topics of conversation whenever she eavesdropped on them.
Dinner concluded quickly, the sound of forks scraping plates and people quickly moving on to their evening duties filled the hall. Michonne got up without a word, disappearing off into the prison without a backward glance.
Before she could worry too much about Michonne, Daryl’s voice startled her, quiet and deep. She turned towards him, always careful to make sure their thighs didn’t touch. He always scooted away from her when she forgot - and she knew he would gladly choose falling out into the floor rather than sit close to her.
“I have something for you,” he told her and she raised her eyebrows, curious. She hadn’t requested anything on this run.
“What is it?” She couldn’t help but ask.
“Nope,” he said, reaching to grab her plate, stacking it on top of his. He reached across and grabbed her daddy’s too, who was too engrossed in some book to really care. She snatched Michonne’s plate and some silverware before following after him, dozens of questions flowing through her head.
They made it into the kitchen, Carol was already hard at work at the sink. Judith was back in her playpen and Beth wondered distantly how long Rick had lasted. She gurgled happily, spoon in hand.
Daryl grabbed the plate from Beth’s hand, stacking it on his pile and sliding it onto the counter next to Carol. The woman gave him a bright smile.
“Can I steal Beth from her chores?” He asked, already heading towards the door after giving Judith a tiny wave.
“You most certainly can,” Carol smiled, and before Beth could protest the woman was bumping her with her hip and telling her to go.
She trailed after Daryl, struggling to keep up and a tad bit overwhelmed. Gus darted off after him, walking beside his owner with a pep in his little step. Beth rolled her eyes, who knew the dog would favor the one who wanted to toss him out originally, the man had even threatened to eat him .
He made his way out of Cellblock C and towards his own, which she had never seen before. She guessed it looked like theirs? She knew that Daryl had helped Axel and Oscar clear out the bodies after he told her that it was more of a ‘throw the body out into the yard and run from the walkers’ kind of deal. She was glad the cell block was apparently completely cleaned out.
The door shut behind them and the cellblock was quiet, the other three not having made their way back after dinner. She had been right about it looking nearly identical to theirs, but it was darker - or at least, it felt a bit darker. Blood still marked the floors and a few of the cells hadn’t been cleared of the past inmate’s personal stuff yet.
“Which one is yours?” She questioned, peering around in some of the nearby cells. She could tell someone lived in one due to the clean bedding, but besides that there weren’t any other personal belongings.
“I ain’t sleeping in no cage, I sleep in the guard post,” he grumbles, making his way up the stairs near the back wall and into the guard tower. Gus followed after and when Beth made it up the final step she saw that he even had his own bed, a few blankets shoved under one of the desks with his beloved teddy bear, a water bowl not too far away.
A bed cot was shoved against one of the walls, along with Daryl’s bags and quiver of extra arrows. A stack of books from the library lay next to the bed, though Beth wasn’t close enough to read the titles. His angel vest was sprawled across the back of the desk chair. It was actually nice, with the big glass windows looking out onto the cellblock.It wasn’t hot and stuffy like it was in the cells, either.
“God, I need to do this in the other cellblock,” she exclaimed, looking out over the block, watching as Axel and Oscar disappeared off into cells on the first level.
Daryl snorted, digging through his bags for whatever her surprise was - the suspense was nearly killing her. A plastic bag was suddenly held out in front of her, bulging and heavy-looking. It was tied at the top, so she couldn’t peer down into it to see what it was. She took it carefully, her arm giving out a bit at the weight. Her eyebrows raised in question again and he rolled his eyes, gesturing for her to open it.
She struggled a bit to get the knot out of the bag with him looking at her so expectantly, and she hoped to God that the blush on her cheeks wasn’t too obvious. She let out a quiet aha when she finally got it open, and then she saw them.
Beth had complained to him one morning that the prison library sucked. It seemed to only contain books teaching you a handy craft (which Beth could theoretically read and learn new skills, but she really didn’t want to) and self-help books (which Beth really didn’t want to read), and little else. There was a minuscule fiction section that contained a dusty copy of The Moby Dick and Animal Farm.
There were around ten hardcovers stuffed in the bag, and as she read the titles, she felt her face and chest starting to grow hot. They weren’t just random fantasy and fiction books that he picked up and slammed into the bag for her, they were her favorite fantasy and fiction books. She couldn’t even fathom how he remembered them all, because she had only told him about them randomly and in-passing, months and months ago - before they even reached the farmhouse and they were still asking awkward questions in an attempt to get to know one another.
Pride and Prejudice, Frankenstein, The Hobbit, all three The Lord of the Rings, The Lord of the Flies, Anna Karenina, and two of her favorite Dan Brown novels were all stuffed into the backpack,
“How did you…?” she stumbled, trying desperately to get her blush to die down, “how did you even remember them all?”
“You talk a lot,” he explained.
She rolled her eyes, “I do not,”
“You do,”
She looked back down at the bag of books, flabbergasted, “I - thank you, so much,”
He shrugged, like the fact that he remembered every single one of her favorite books just didn’t matter. He seemed to suddenly tense and spun back around, digging through his bag before pulling out a pack of highlighters.
“Give these to your dad? Heard him complaining the other day that his were out of ink.”
That sent her over the edge and she took the pack with shaky hands, trying to will the tears to go away. God, please don’t cry.
The hot and cold behavior of Daryl Dixon really didn’t matter to her at that moment, the anger and hurt of being pushed away. She didn’t care if she was reading the signals wrong anymore, because he cared . No one would do this, go out of their way on a dangerous run, to find a girl her favorite books and her dad some pens so he could highlight Bible verses he had read a thousand times, not in this world.
She stood there for a few more seconds, trying desperately to get the tears to go away, but she surrendered and gently sat the bag of books down next to her feet, stuffing the highlighters into her jean pocket, before walking over and hugging him.
Damn it, Dixon.
He stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, his hands out in front of him, before he seemingly gave up too and pulled her closer, his hands on her shoulders and his chin against the crown of her head.
“Thank you,” she said, thanking him for more than just the books.
“Welcome,”
That night, she fell asleep with Pride and Prejudice in her hand, trying desperately to keep her mind off of the whole gesture, lest her heart hurt any more than it already did.
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Beth folded what felt like the hundredth washcloth, reaching up to tug another down from the clothesline. The sun was hot on her shoulders and the pavement blistering on her bare feet, though she didn’t mind. She was too lazy to walk all the way back to the cellblock to grab her boots, tired from reading the night before, and the burning heat felt nice after a while. The courtyard was empty besides her, Carol, and Judith, placed in the shade in her baby carrier, snoring the day away. Once again, she was a wonderful baby.
Summer was ending with a nasty heatwave, the thermometer nailed to the courtyard wall reading one hundred and four. Both she and Carol opted for shorts and tank tops while they did the chores that day, though Beth had to borrow from Maggie’s stash. The top was way too big on her, meaning she had to tug the straps up every few minutes to keep it from slipping down on her chest - it was getting really annoying and she was planning on swiping some clothespins after they were done and clipping the straps to her bra to keep it in place. Apocalypse innovation , she surmised.
Carol’s gentle voice broke her out of her scheming, “What were you up to last night? I didn’t see that lamp go off until well after two, little missy,” she smiled, tossing a stack of socks into one of the baskets.
Beth smiled and huffed a bit, mirroring the woman and tossing the pile of dishcloths into the nearest basket, thankful when they didn’t unfold themselves upon impact.
“Daryl got me some books yesterday, I got a little too excited,” she explained, she had finished Pride and Prejudice in her excitement last night - and in her avoidance - and was planning on starting The Hobbit after dinner.
“What books?”
“My favorites, mostly fiction and fantasy,” Beth told her, sighing as she spotted a bloodstain on one of Glenn’s shirts that hadn’t come out. Some of them were stubborn.
“Funny, they were at a hunting store yesterday,” Carol remarked, folding her towel perfectly in a way Beth had yet to master. How did she fold it so perfectly?
Beth shrugged, trying not to think about the specifics of Daryl picking out her favorite books, or taking the time, or endangering himself. It was a dangerous road to go down.
“There might have been a bookstore near it,” she supplied, ignoring the woman’s eyes in favor of a stray string on one of the towels. Judith cooed from her carrier.
“Sure,”
A quiet fell between the two of them, only the occasional sound of a stubborn wrinkle being shaken out or a basket scraping the cement. The cicadas were on full blast, filling the air with their buzzing screams.
Carol let out a frustrated sigh, “Do I need to strangle it out of you? What is going on between you two?”
Beth was startled by the suddenness of her question, her eyes growing wide, “Excuse me?”
The woman rolled her eyes, moving to sit down on the cement across from her, “Don’t play dumb with me now, how long have you liked him?”
Beth stuttered to a stop, hands frozen on one of the towels because God, did everyone in this prison know? Was she that goddamn obvious?
“You two don’t hide it very well,” the woman explained, seemingly reading Beth’s mind, “it’s cute.”
“It’s all nothing, don’t worry about it,” she grumbled, throwing a pair of folded pants into the basket a little harder than necessary.
“Did you…?” Carol trailed off, a single eyebrow raised. Beth stopped for a moment, confused as to what the woman meant, then it hit her and blood rushed to her cheeks. Did everyone think that?!
“No! No, we didn’t do that! Why would you think that?”
Carol shrugged, a small smile on her face, “Two young, pretty people alone for a year? No one would have blamed you for it,”
Beth shook her head, trying not to think about them doing that. No matter how much she wanted to.
“We just kissed, that’s all,” Beth explained. Carol looked at her expectantly, eyebrows raised again.
“What?”
“Well, I want details! When did it happen, where did it happen, how many times -”
“Alright! Enough!” Beth started, cheeks probably as red as the shirt she had in her lap. Carol giggled, placing her finished pile of towels into one of the baskets at Beth’s side. She propped her face up onto her hands like they were middle schoolers gossiping about the popular guy at recess.
She let out a peaceful sigh, “I remember that feeling, that giddy feeling you get when they talk to you, the beginning is always so fun,”
Beth rolled her eyes, she didn’t know if she would call their beginning fun , “It’s not going anywhere, he made that clear,”
“What?” And bless her heart, Carol sounded offended.
Beth sighed, preparing herself to explain her pain to someone else, maybe it would help, to tell someone else what had happened? Daryl wouldn’t care for it, but he didn’t have to know, did he?
“After he got to the prison he told me it was a mistake and that we should stay friends,” she explained, not sure how else to describe it without adding unnecessary details.
“Is he playing hard to get?” she asked and Beth laughed at the idea of Daryl Dixon playing hard to get.
“No, I think he means it.”
Carol rolled her eyes, reaching for a pair of paints on the clothesline above them, “Oh, honey, he doesn’t mean it, knowing Daryl, all of this is because he’s just scared of it. He doesn’t seem to open himself up to people, not like he does you,”
“Why do you say that?” she asked, because Daryl? Scared? That would be the day Hell froze over. He didn’t want a little girl pestering him, is what this all was.
“Daryl is unhealthily selfless, he also has an awful self-image, most likely, all of this is because he wants to protect you and he sees himself as someone you need to be protected from,” Carol explained like this was all the most simple thing in the world. Was that it? Did he think he was such an awful person that she didn’t want to be with him? She thought she had been pretty clear.
“I don’t think so, I think he just got tired of me, that’s all,” she lied, because accepting that it was the other reason hurt . She didn’t even want to think about it. How would you even fix that, if that was the case?
Carol laughed quietly, tossing a shirt away from her, “You don’t see the way he looks at you when you’re not paying attention.”
Ouch.
“We’re good friends, ‘is all,” Beth supplied, her fists clenching around the red shirt in her lap, she had been holding onto it without folding it for too long.
Carol stopped her folding to shoot her a petulant look, “He looks at you like you hung the moon, Beth. If it wasn’t for patrols or runs he’d probably be following after you like a lost puppy.”
“I-”
Carol pointed a finger at her, “Don’t psych yourself out, don’t let whatever he said get into your head - I mean, remember who we’re talking about, for crying out loud! If Daryl truly wants something, he’s going to do the exact opposite to punish himself. Take control, push him, see what he does then. He can only hold out for so long.”
Beth cringed, “I don’t want to force him into anything,”
“And you won’t be, either that boy loves you or - I don’t even know what. It’s so obvious, and with the way the world is now, we all need to take advantage of the opportunities that come across our table. The good. Take this one.”
Beth sat in the silence after that, nearly fuming. Carol made it sound so simple , but it never was. She couldn’t just flutter her eyelashes and say a few nice things and have him fall into her arms - this was Daryl. He knew her and he was so fucking smart - he would know exactly what she was doing. Beth needed to buckle down and accept that this is what Daryl wanted. She needed to accept that.
Beth startled at the sound of the truck coming up the hill, Judith whining at the sudden noise. Daryl and Glenn had left that morning on another run, trying desperately to find more ammunition. Beth hadn’t been outside when they had left, not wanting to watch Daryl leave the gates again. She had felt guilty about it all day.
The truck stopped near the courtyard they were in, Glenn and Daryl spilling out and making their way back towards the truck bed before Maggie and Carl had reached them to help, Gus trailing after the boy’s boots.
She ignored them in favor of finishing up the laundry, spotting Carol’s eye roll from beneath her lashes. She only stopped folding when the sound of heavy footfalls coming up to her pulled her from her thoughts. Daryl blocked the sun from her eyes, thankfully, and she could see that there was barely a speck of dirt on him. So, a good run.
Carol whispered a quiet hello to him before carting her own baskets of laundry off into the prison - off to distribute them into peoples’ cells.
“Find anything good?” She asked, giving him a tiny smile - which he returned.
Push him.
Beth held out her hands suddenly, silently asking for Daryl to help her up. He hesitated for a moment, and it was embarrassingly easy for him to sling her up and onto her feet, so fast Beth almost felt a little dizzy. The smudge of dirt on Daryl’s cheek couldn’t have been more perfect.
She grabbed onto his forearms, tugging her towards him, whispering that he had something on his face. Without really thinking, she popped her finger into her mouth and then onto his cheek, scrubbing at the dirt until his face was clean.
She tried to avoid his eyes as she pulled her hand away, but she swore she saw a flash of want before she tucked her hand down firmly at her side . Holy shit.
Before either of them could say anything, the sound of her daddy’s crutches against the pavement sent both of their eyes over towards the man, a gentle smile on his face directed towards the two of them.
“Good run, son?”
Daryl nodded, clearing his throat and stepping away from Beth so fast she felt cold - but she also hadn’t realized how close they had been while her father had been walking up. She was still so focused on that flash of something in his eyes that she wasn’t sure what to do next.
Her daddy stopped a bit away from them, looking between the two - it seemed they both avoided his eyes in favor of their boots. She watched as Carl scooped up Judith’s carrier and carted her off into the prison, talking quietly to her as he went.
“You’re going hunting today, right?”
“Yes, sir,” Daryl asked, looking away from Beth’s boots. His hand tightening on his crossbow.
“Why don’t you take Bethy with you? Don’t want her to get rusty on that bow,” he offered, shooting them both a small smile before disappearing off into the courtyard, probably down to the garden.
Beth reeled because her father was actually letting her go outside? Out of the walls? And without warning? She tried to collect herself, but Daryl’s eyes suddenly met hers and they held - and Beth wasn’t sure if she could name the emotion that was behind Daryl’s eyes.
“Go get your stuff,”