Chapter 1: warm
Chapter Text
No matter how she turned her head, Beth couldn’t hear a thing out of what was once her right ear. It was nothing but a dull, aching, ringing silence that wasn’t silence at all; it was painful and sharp and spiteful. Her sister kept swatting at Beth’s hands whenever she moved her fingers up towards her bandaged head. You’ll only make it worse, Maggie kept saying, over and over, like it was one of those little hairstyles Maggie would give her back when she was little, back when Maggie did those sorts of things.
Until their mom had gotten sick—died, though back then Beth forced herself to only think of her mom as sick, because being sick was easier to understand, even as she stank so bad it made Beth’s eyes water and her pale-pink skin became green-blue, then her being dead—Maggie had the most beautiful long hair. Beth had always been a bit envious of it, of the soft waves that her hair fell in over her back. Now, as Beth stared at her sister’s short hair, all she could look at was the pretty slope of her ears. Maggie had pretty ears. Maggie had two ears. Maggie had always been so much—more than Beth could ever be.
There was something evil inside of Beth, to feel this angry at her sister, when all she did was hold her hand as she recovered from the gunshot, kiss at her face and cry for her. All Maggie did was care for Beth, yet it made Beth want to push her away.
“Why ya bein’ so mean ta yer sist’r?” Daryl asked her one day after Beth turned away from Maggie as they readied themselves for the night. Daryl had taken her aside, out of the back porch, where he lit a cigarette. The smoke wavered around him, like it wanted to stick close, and Beth found the smell somehow soothing. She never had before, yet, now, here, it was all Daryl Dixon. Her big brother.
Their group was on their way towards Virginia. They had only stopped for the night at a house that they had cleared out. Beth had to stay behind with Father Gabriel and Carl and Judith and Noah. She might never had been the best at killing walkers, but she could do it. She could. Yet, Maggie had grabbed at her arm, her hand tight, her gaze hard, her words final as she leaned in close to her left ear, her only ear, stay out here , she had said and suddenly Beth was ten years old again, sitting out on the church steps while Maggie left to make eyes at the preachers oldest son. Daddy had been so mad when he found the two of them necking in the barn. Beth could remember the way his entire face turned bright red; the little girl she had been had thought he was angry enough to really spout out steam from his ears, like in the cartoons she and Shawn would watch every Saturday morning.
She missed her daddy. She hated herself for not being able to accept Maggie’s love. Beth had always been too harsh, yet also too soft. She was too much, she barely even understood herself.
Beth held out her hand. Daryl squinted at her for a long moment as smoke wafted up from the cigarette in his mouth. He looked like a painting of some sort, the light of the half moon illuminating his silhouette. It took a long time before he plucked the cigarette out of his mouth and placed it between her fingers.
“Careful,” Daryl muttered as she brought it to her lips. “Hold it in for a second.”
Beth imitated the way she had seen people do it, the way she had seen Daryl smoke. The back of her throat, her nose, her eyes all burned. The side of her head felt like it was on fire less than it had in weeks. Beth breathed out. The smoke, her breath, caught and she coughed into her hands. Daryl made a short sound as he took the cigarette back from her.
“She treats me like I’m a little girl.” Beth settled on. She should look at Daryl. Instead, she stared out at the yard. This place had been a home with children; there was a metal swing set that Carl had taken Judith to before the sun had set. Her giggles had been so beautiful. Beth had tilted her head, left ear up, to hear her before Rick had called the kids back inside.
Daryl took a drag and blew smoke out of his nose as he answered, “Always gonna be her lil’ sister, Bethy.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m a kid anymore!” Beth replied sharply.
Her friend blinked and nodded his head. A slow movement that considered her words, that showed her that he was thinking over his own. “Nah, ya ain’t a kid. She knows that. But, she nearly lost you. Lost you, found you, lost you again—that shit hurts, Beth. Makes ya want to hold closer. Tha’s all she’s doin’. Holdin’ close.”
She knew that.
She did.
Yet—
“I feel like I’m nothin’ but a nuisance.” Beth whispered into the air. The words were a relief, a stark bare truth she hadn’t been able to speak aloud. Her hearing was shit, her balance was off. She was constantly irratated with herself and her missing ear and the slow healing wound. The other day, she told poor Eugene to shut the fuck up , which had made Glenn frown at her and scold her with a single word: hey . It had been enough for Beth to cry before bed, hating herself in a way she had never felt in her entire life. She was horrible. She was ugly, inside and out, her soul was rotting, she could feel it, she was turning into some sort of horrible beast that wanted to hurt others as much as she had been.
Daryl shook his head, automatic, an instinct of sorts that made tears burn at the edges of Beth’s eyes. That was something about Daryl; he was so truthful and loving it made Beth feel too much in her heart. He and Rick loved with their entire souls. It was what made following them through the depths of hell easy. It was what made Beth feel like, even with the loss of her father, that she would be alright. She still had them.
“Ain’t a nuisance.” Daryl mumbled as he ground his cigarette out onto the porch. He considered it for a second before sticking it into the pocket of his shirt. Before Beth could open her mouth—was it an argument on her lips or was it hope?—Daryl continued, “We’ve all got somethin’, one way or ‘nother. Rick lost his mind. Eugene’s a liar. Not gonna let them loose. Lil’ Asskicker sure as hell ain’t a nuisance. Neither are you. Yer our sister, Bethy. Let Rick and me and Glenn be your brothers and let Maggie be your sister.”
With that said, Daryl stood up. He didn’t leave. All he did was stand up and look out at the yard. They were coming close to Richmond. They would be there in a day or two. Beth closed her eyes and listened to the quiet sounds of crickets. She thought of the gentle way Maggie would pull her bandage off every morning. Maggie had always been so good at being tough, but her moments of softness was something Beth treasured.
In the morning, when Beth woke up with Maggie’s hands on her shoulder, she sat up without a word and let her sister’s kind hands touch her head. The wound hurt, but Maggie’s touch was feather-soft. When Maggie covered her head back up, Beth pressed her forehead into her sister’s shoulder.
Maggie’s heartbeat was steady. She could feel it. It felt as though it was in-sync with Beth’s own heart.
Her sister kissed Beth’s head and whispered “I got you, Bethy-baby” in that same tone she had used with Beth her entire life. So soft. So full of love. Beth wanted to cry. She took a deep breath. Underneath the sweat and dirt and blood, Maggie smelled the same. It was the biggest comfort of all.
Richmond had been a bust.
All that came from the trip was a dead body that needed to be buried. Tyresse was one of the sweetest men Beth had ever met; he was all soft kindness and Sasha was sharp eagerness. They were like Beth and Maggie, in that way. Though, these days, Beth thought maybe her and Maggie were reversed from what she always saw them as.
As Father Gabriel finished the prayer, Beth wrapped her arms around Noah.
He clutched at her arm and shook his head. And Beth held him. It was all she could think to do. Noah didn’t quite cry; he couldn’t stop staring at the fresh dirt where Tyresse lay, his eyes rimmed red and shining. He had lost so much. His parents, his brothers, his home.
“It’s all my fault,” he said as they found themselves back on the road. They were sitting in the back of a sedan, Beth between Noah and Eugene. The latter was tactfully staring out of the window as he made idle conversation with Glenn and Maggie in an attempt to give Beth and Noah some sort of privacy. It was kind.
Beth shook her head and took his hands in her own. Noah had large hands with pretty pink fingernails. There was dirt underneath them. “You can’t blame yourself,” she whispered, hoping her words weren’t too loud or too quiet. She didn’t have much of a grasp on volume control now that her hearing was off. She could feel his pulse under her fingers. “All that does is—dig you deeper into a dark hole. You can’t control the world, Noah. None of us can. Horrible things happen and we—we gotta move on.”
Noah sniffed.
He didn’t say anything back. All he did was squeeze her hand. It was enough. Beth hoped it was enough.
They had to keep going.
When they ran out of gas, they walked, aimless, forward, one foot in front of the other, searching for something, anything, something.
Throughout Beth’s childhood, they had a dog named Dove. He was a handsome blue Australian cattle dog, with a notched tail that was only about three inches long that he would wag happily. Beth couldn’t remember why they called him Dove; maybe her mother had named him. She had always loved doves. They were her favorite animals. She had so many different figurines and art prints of doves. That didn’t matter. Dove the dog had used to nip at Beth’s ankles and herd her with the cows. She used to press kisses to his forehead and whisper I love you into his pointed ears. The month before the virus hit, Beth had spent days begging her parents to get a new dog. Dove’s been buried for over a year, she could remember saying, l et’s get a new puppy, it’ll be good for us!
Beth leaned forward and moaned, happy, so happy, to finally be eating something of substance. The meat was tough and she dug her teeth into it and tore it from the bone. She was so hungry, her stomach felt emptier than empty—it was eating itself up into nothing, her head ached with its constant pressure and the hollow ringing was so loud and this, the meat, the meat she didn’t want to think about deeper than food, was better than anything she had ever eaten in her entire life.
She had been so hungry.
Howling wind beat against the barn door; they were a mess of limbs as they pressed against the door, brute human strength against wild nature. Beth was only vaguely aware of the tears sliding down her face. She forced herself forward. Her entire life she had been all brittle bones and soft heart and thin limbs, but she couldn’t back away. None of them could.
Beth couldn’t say how long they stayed there, but, when the wind finally became nothing more than a quiet breeze, everybody fell into each other. Beth pressed her face into Carol’s wet back and shook her head. It was too much. But they had did it. They had stood against the world. Beth opened her eyes and watched Rick, his back against the door, his hands shaking, his mouth open in rasping breaths. He was their anchor. Everything they’d done was thanks to his strength, his willingness to fight it all. Beth grinned and laughed, something wild and oddly pitched, and she could hear others laugh with her.
It didn’t take long for them to settle down to sleep.
Beth laid down with Noah at her side. He was so warm. His hand pressed against her waist and she watched him for the brief moment before sleep took her. She was so tired. Her entire body felt sore and weak. Her head hurt. Noah was so warm.
Chapter Text
It was too good to be true.
That was the only thought Beth had on the matter, words that she said aloud to the others as they contemplated whether or not to believe the man who had shown up. Aaron. A desperate, hungry, tired part of Beth wanted it to be true. She wanted to follow this man—strange and clean and bright-eyed—to wherever his community was. She wanted to watch Rick punch him again and take everything from him and keep going until they found something for themselves. If what Aaron was offering wasn’t real, if it was another trick, another fight, Beth didn’t think she could take it. She couldn’t.
Beth wanted it to be real.
But she could still feel the give of flesh under her hands as she plunged a pair of scissors into Dawn’s chest; it had been freeing, until the bullet had grazed against her head and her vision had turned into stars and Daryl’s hands were lifting her and there had been blood, red and warm and so much blood, flowing over into her eyes. What if this community was the same? Just another place where people took advantage of others. Where a person was only a body to be used. What if this community was like Terminus? Glenn had told her enough that she knew what those people had done. They couldn’t risk any of that again.
But—
Beth could see the hope in Michonne’s eyes. She could see the shared looks between Maggie and Glenn. They wanted to believe, they were willing to. It wouldn’t be long, Beth knew, before Rick would see their side. So, by morning, when they were all back together with Aaron and his partner, they left for Alexandria.
Beth sat with Noah, their sides pressed close together, and watched the scenery move past them as they made their way forward. She wrapped his arms around her stomach and fought the urge to scratch at the side of her head. The wound was healing, slowly, steadily, and all she wanted was to tear the bandage away. She was tired of it.
“This is going to be good.” Noah said in a quiet voice.
Beth turned to meet his wide eyes.
“This is going to be good,” he repeated.
Beth looked down at her hands, clutched in her lap. She swallowed and shifted to grab one of his. He had big hands. The sort of hands that made her feel safe. She knew she shouldn’t be doing this again, but Beth heart had been taken by Noah from the moment they met. She intertwined their fingers and smiled a sort of smile that might have been normal, but maybe it was wild with hope. She glanced towards Carl, who held onto his baby sister, and all she wanted was to see that little girl be able to grow up without having to run from place to place, without having to get blood on her hands. Beth turned back to Noah. “It will be.”
It felt as though her entire head was buzzing.
She wanted her words to be true, for it to be real. She closed her eyes and prayed.
Walking through Alexandria felt more like a dream than reality. It was a piece of suburban life within walls. Beth blinked and curiously glanced around as she kept pace with Maggie. Her sister kept a steady hand on her elbow. Beth swallowed and shifted her hand to hold Maggie’s. She needed her sister. Maggie squeezed her hand and gave her a shaky little smile. Daryl was right. That was the kicker; Daryl was almost always right. Beth needed Maggie and Maggie needed her.
Beth reached up and brushed her fingers along the bandage on her head. Her sister’s fingers tightened around her palm. Right. Beth licked her lips and held her chin up.
It felt odd to have the camera lens turned on her, but Beth ignored it in favor of examining her nails. Dirt had embedded itself beneath them, but she couldn’t quite fish it all out. The woman, Deanna Monroe, sat patiently as she waited for Beth to answer her question. How long had you been out there? The words hung in the air, heavy, exposed, lingering. Deanna had a strong voice, the sort that projected. Beth had been able to hear her well.
“In the beginning,” she began in a soft voice, “we were able to stay on my family’s farm. A herd ran us off and we were on the road for nearly an entire winter before we found our home. We made a community there. Invited in people. Kept them safe. Fed. But, it. It didn’t last. Ever since, we’ve been—searching.”
“For a home?” Deanna’s voice startled Beth. She had forgotten, for a moment, why she had been speaking.
Beth blinked at the woman and shrugged her shoulders. Over Deanna’s head was the constant red light of the video camera. The sight made Beth want to hide. The last time her video was taken she was—herself. Full. Free. Now she was someone else. Someone she didn’t quite recognize, or didn’t want to. “No, uh. For each other. We’re a family. Maybe it sounds, I don’t know, cheesy, but we’re home when we’re together. We’re strong. Things are better when we’re together. Safer.”
The woman hummed, a soft little sound that Beth saw more than heard. “Sounds like a good family.”
“The best,” Beth said without missing a beat. “Which is why—if this is a trick. If this place is a lie, if you lured us here to hurt us in any way, we will kill you and everyone standing in our way.”
Deanna raised her eyebrows, that plain smile still on her face. Beth wondered who else had threatened her. Rick might have. His threat might even make Deanna squirm; Rick was the kindest man Beth had ever met, but he was also the most terrifying. He got a look in his eye, something both bright and dull, something that said he would do anything, no matter what it took from his heart to do it. “I assure you, Beth, we are nothing but genuine. We are a community of survivors, not dissimilar to the community your family had built. All we want is to rebuild society. And, with all of you, we come closer to making our dream a reality. I promise, I have no tricks up my sleeve. No one here does. Everything about myself and Alexandria is transparent.”
Beth smiled tightly.
The living room was crammed with bodies, same as every place they had found during their months on the road to Virginia. Beth lay with her back pressed against Noah’s chest. She could feel the soothing rise and fall of his breathing in her spine. The room was alive with shifting and soft murmurs and breathing and Judith’s soft baby snores. She had started teething not too long ago and had fallen asleep while chewing on a thick piece of leather Daryl had boiled for her. Beth kept glancing over at her, sleeping soundly in her father’s arms.
Her mind kept replaying the way Deanna Monroe had looked at her. Over and over and over. The way she leaned forward, the way she smiled; it was like Beth was nothing. She knew the woman was trying to be—motherly, maybe, but Beth’s mom was dead. She had been for a long time and she didn’t need some woman she didn’t know to smile at her like that, like all would be well if she just gave it time, like everything out there, everything that happened, was nothing. You should visit our doctor, Pete, he will make sure your wound heals nicely , Deanna had said as Beth slipped out of the room. Beth had only blinked at her and tried to smile, but she was sure it was nothing more than a grimace.
She reached up to feel her hair. It had been shaved down after the bullet had grazed her. After so many weeks of avoiding herself and not being able to even access a mirror, Beth had seen her reflection. She hated her hair. Her head. She hated herself. Beth closed her eyes, but couldn’t find it in herself to fall asleep.
When morning came, Beth slipped away from Noah and sat on the front porch with Daryl, who was squinting out at the neighborhood as he smoked a cigarette. There was dry blood in the corner where he had bled out a possum he had caught. Beth held out her hand and Daryl obliged after a long moment, handing her his cigarette with a roll of his eyes.
The burn was nice, even if her eyes watered and she could only take a few more drags before giving it back to him. Beth bit her lip and said, “I don’t like it here.”
Daryl gave her a long glance and grunted. “Barely been here. Not even been a day.”
Beth shrugged and wrapped her arms around her knees. She needed to unwrap her bandage soon. Maggie always did it for her. Birdsong sounded out and Beth wondered if Daryl could name what bird it was. He knew all kinds of birds and their calls. Back when it was the two of them on the road, Beth had made a game of it, asking Daryl what bird had called out. Once he had gave her a long look like he thought she was stupid and said that was a raccoon , which had only made Beth laugh until her stomach hurt.
“Know it’s been hard on ya, Beth, but, uh.” Daryl licked his lips and paused for a long moment. Beth watched him and pushed down the urge to bite at his bare shoulder and beat at his chest. It had been hard for all of them. Not just her. “This here, this place, it’s good fer you. Need people, Bethy. Ya need stability and shit. You and Carl and Lil’ Asskicker.”
“I’m not a kid,” Beth said sharply, the same words she had started saying when she was twelve years old. She had believed it then; it felt like a desperate lie now. She wasn’t a kid, but she sure didn’t feel grown up. She just felt—different. “I’m eighteen, you know. That means I’m an adult.”
Her brother shook his head and shoved her shoulder with two fingers. “Girl, yer a kid ‘til the end ‘a time in my eyes. Could be thirty and you’ll still be one.”
She couldn’t help but laugh, something sharp and clear and real. She looked out at the street and felt her body relax as she realized, without a doubt, there was no way for walkers to find their way here. There was a wall all around them, with secure gates and guards. They were safe. For the first time in months, they were safe from walkers. There was that. Still, the people inside these walls could be anything—they could be vile, manipulative. They could be normal, passive. Beth didn’t know yet. Until she knew, she didn’t think she could rest.
Beth glanced at Daryl, at the tense line of his shoulders, and knew he was the same. Of course he was. Smoke curled around them, the same color as the early morning sky.
It took Beth two days before she worked up the courage to ask Rick to accompany her to see the doctor. It was easier to ask Rick over anybody else. He had gave her a long look, his eyebrows furrowed, his hands on his hips, before giving her a firm nod and a soft-spoken answer. “Course I’ll come, Beth,” Rick had said and Beth nodded in return and turned around quickly, her hands curled into fists into her overalls.
His uneven footsteps behind her set her rattled nerves at ease.
When they arrived at the building used as the doctor's office, Beth sat on top of a table while being examined. It was cold underneath her palms. She kept wiping her hands onto her knees and glancing over at Rick, who stood only a few steps away, his back against the wall, his hand resting on the axe he wore on his belt. The doctor had introduced himself with a wide toothy smile before he proceeded to unwrap her head, making comments on how surprised he was that it seemed to be well taken care of.
Beth felt her breath hold every time the man leaned in towards her.
“Well, it looks like it’s healed enough for you to stop wrapping it up.” The doctor said with a frown.
The comment made Beth tighten her hands on her knees. “Are—why?”
The doctor gave her an odd look as he huffed out something short of a laugh. “You, uh, look, Beth, right? Beth, at a certain point, you have to let the wound breathe. It’s not bleeding anymore; there’s no need to keep it covered like this. If you do, the healing process—” As the man spoke, Beth stared at a cup full of pens. She could grab one, she thought, she could grab one and plunge it into his eye. She could shove her hand into his mouth and tug his jaw down. She could—
Beth blinked and glanced down at her hands. There was no reason for any thought like that. He didn’t do anything to her. All he said was what she had already sort of known. She couldn’t hide away what happened anymore. She couldn’t. Hell, she didn’t even like wearing the bandage. Beth felt Rick’s warm hand settle on her shoulder and she glanced up at him.
“Thanks for takin’ a look at her, Pete.” Rick said in that pleasantly venomous tone of his. Beth eyed him and wondered what he had against the guy. Far as Beth knew, the two had never spoken to each other before. All Beth knew about the doctor was that he was married to the pretty blonde lady a few doors down whose older son was a few years younger than Beth. Carl had hung out with him the day before; he had tried to get Beth and Noah to tag along, but the idea of playing video games with a handful of young teenagers had never been Beth’s idea of fun.
As Rick spoke with the doctor, Beth found a mirror and arranged her hair carefully over the side of her head. It didn’t look the most natural—more like a hairstyle Maggie would have worn—but it worked well enough. Beth blinked at herself. She looked so pale. The scar on the side of her head was a jagged, bright red welt. She looked like someone else entirely. Beth covered half her face with a hand and stared at herself. Would her daddy even recognize her? She barely knew herself anymore.
“Beth.” Rick’s voice startled Beth.
She dropped her hand and blinked up at him. He had the sort of look on his face that made it clear he wanted to say something, to reassure her, but Beth simply stepped past him. Once they were back on the street, on their way back to the house they’ve been living in, Beth told him, “thank you. You—you didn’t have to—come. Thank you.”
Rick rubbed at his cheek with his knuckles and shrugged. Like it was nothing. He knew. Beth knew he did. “Anytime.”
Beth smiled at him, small and true, and he smiled back.
It was easy to say that her ear had been shot off, but, really, that wasn’t the case at all. She still had a bit of her earlobe, a chunk of red-white skin that Beth couldn’t help but touch. The rest was an obliterated mass of skin—a line where the bullet had grazed her, inches away from lodging through her head, inches away from killing her—that had slowly healed. Beth became obsessed with staring at her head in the days after the doctor told her to keep it uncovered.
Michonne had stepped into the bathroom once to see her propped up on the sink, her nose pressed against the mirror, but her friend hadn’t told her anything. She had simply stepped forward and brushed at her hair with a smile. She had a motherly sort of touch, the kind that made Beth close her eyes and feel safe. Beth was pretty sure Michonne had told Rick about Beth’s habit, because there had been a few times that Rick had knocked on the bathroom door before stepping inside. She was just glad that Michonne hadn’t told her sister; Maggie was living in the next house over, her and Glenn, and while her sister didn’t say anything, Beth wasn’t stupid. She could tell. Maggie had a glow to her, a softness. She was slowing down, taking to her role that Deanna had assigned her. Beth could see plain as day what it was. Her sister didn’t need to think about what was wrong with Beth. She had her own life to live now.
That was the way of things.
Maggie was always going to leave Beth behind.
Hold her close, let her go again. And again and again. They had never been close sisters. The end of the world didn’t change that. Maggie knew her, loved her, but what importance did a broken girl have when there was a baby on the way?
And then, as always, change.
That morning, before he left, Noah had pressed a soft kiss to her lips. He had squeezed her hands. He had leaned in close to her ear and said, “See you later.” The idea of him going out on the supply run set Beth’s nerves on edge, but it was his choice. He wanted to contribute to this place, this Eden hidden beneath thorns, and nothing Beth could say would change that. He was all hope. Stupid fucking hope. Hope never gave anyone a thing other than trouble.
When Glenn came back, dragging a battered Tara towards the community’s doctor office, Beth knew. She knew. It was always going to be the same. Maybe she knew it the moment he kissed her, so feather soft, so sweet, so kind. Maybe it was when he spoke, a finality that comes with being too hopeful in this awful world.
Beth retreated to the bedroom she slept in and didn’t cry. Didn’t do anything but sit and stare at the warm lines of Noah’s folded up clothes in the very corner of the room. He slept on the floor, something that he decided to do; Michonne and Rick thought it was the cutest thing ever. Beth had tried to get Noah to come up and share the mattress with her, but he stayed down there. Every night they would smile at each other and whisper to each other, their words moving up and down and up in hushed tones that they hoped wouldn’t carry towards the others.
A knock at the door startled Beth. She set her hand onto her ragged scar.
The door tentatively opened, revealing Maggie’s soft hair and wide eyes.
“Bethy,” was all she said. It was a breath of air, a sigh, a call.
Beth closed her eyes. The weight of reality fell onto her then; tears ran down her cheeks and a wretched, wicked sob ripped through her and she held out her arms, like a child, like a girl who needed comfort, and Maggie rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Beth. She pressed her hand onto the back of Beth’s head and pressed her close to her chest. She kissed the crown of her head as she whispered platitudes.
It had happened again , Beth wanted to say, but she couldn't bring herself to speak. Another man she had loved was gone. God, it wasn’t just that. It was everything. Everyone. She thought of the way Michonne’s katana had slid through Daddy’s neck. She thought of the way Tyresse’s eyes were closed peacefully, his arm nothing but a mess of slowly oozing blood. She thought of Shawn and Mom, sick in bed, their breaths slowing into nothing. She hated it. She hated it all.
“I—I just want it to end.”
Maggie kissed her head. “Don’t say that.”
“I’m so tired.”
Her sister clung to her, hard, hard enough that pain blossomed beneath her fingers. Beth loved her so much. She pressed herself closer. So close she could hear the solid beat of her sister's heart. She wondered if she could hear the baby in her stomach. She couldn’t lose anyone else. Not her sister, not any of her new world brothers. Not Michonne or Carol. God forbid anything ever hurt Carl and Judith. She couldn’t lose any of them. Beth breathed in and opened her eyes. Red eyed and wild and hurt, Beth stared at Noah’s clothes. No more. No more quiet, little Beth. No more crying. That was over. Beth Greene had died, little by little by little. Beth breathed out.
“You don’t hafta worry about me,” Beth muttered into Maggie’s chest.
Her sister made a noise between a snort and laugh; it was the sound she made whenever she thought Beth said something downright stupid. “Never gonna happen. There’s some things about being a big sister that you don’t know.” Maggie smiled, her hazel eyes as warm as the sun. She cupped the side of Beth’s head, her fingers beneath Beth’s ruined ear. Her other hand pulled back Beth’s hair. “I’m always gonna worry about you. I’m always going to love you. Just the way it is.”
Beth sniffed and glanced down for a moment before meeting Maggie’s eyes again. “Even—even when you and Glenn have a baby?” She felt like a little girl, begging for her sister's attention. She felt so far away from herself. She wished she had given Noah a proper kiss before he had left. She wished she was ten years old again, with kindness all around.
Maggie opened her mouth and closed it and opened it again. “How—how’d you know? I barely figured it out!”
A wry smile spread across Beth’s lips and she picked up a shoulder in a tired, short shrug. “I just know. Maybe it's little sister intuition.” It was in Maggie’s glow, her softness; it was the bags underneath her eyes and the way she would lean into Glenn. It was the way his hands would wrap around her hips and he would smile so wide at her, so full of love. “How—how’s Glenn doin’? He looked so upset.”
Maggie’s face fell and she softly brushed at Beth’s hair. “He saw it all happen. Watched and couldn’t do a thing about it. These people are—sloppy and cocky and don’t even see how they’re ruinin’ lives. Cost Noah’s and Deanna’s son’s. We nearly lost Tara. The poor thing is all banged up, making Glenn go out of his mind with worry. I thought. I thought once we got here, everything would be simple. But, it’s a damn mess.”
“I miss the prison.” Beth’s voice was small, a truth she could only say once.
Maggie laughed, something so sad it made goosebumps line along Beth’s arms. “It was a good home.”
That was all that could be said.
Notes:
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