When the Bullet Missed

by TheCozyKirin

Summary:

What would have happened if the bullet grazed Beth instead of killing her?

How would the story have changed with her added in the mix and most importantly, how much would Daryl have changed if she stuck around?

Notes:

So, this is my first time ever posting on a site like this! I'm both nervous and excited at the same time - call it nerxcited, haha! I'm planning on continuing this for as long as I have free time, please do provide criticism down below on how I can improve or just what you think of the story in general!

Because Beth lives in this timeline not all canon events will be one on one to the show as I'll have to think about how certain characters would act now that she's here.

Without further ado, enjoy!

Chapter 1

The exchange was supposed to be peaceful.
A trade of lives. A clean exit. Beth had walked forward with her chin raised, eyes steady, heart pounding. She saw Noah ahead of her. Daryl waiting, Rick ready. She met Rick first, his hand cupping the back of her head in a fatherly embrace, lips grazing the top as he gently pushed her towards the rest of the group as she cast another weary glance back the way she came that was pulled back by Daryl’s calloused hand on her shoulder, and in that moment she truly felt safe.

“Glad we could work things out.” Dawn’s voice was controlled, smooth.

Rick paused, looking over his shoulder. “Yeah.” his voice curt and uninterested as he turned back to his group who had already started to inch towards the exit doors.

But Dawn had to have the last word. “Now I just need Noah.”

Beth froze.

“Then you can leave.”

The room tensed like a live wire.

Beth saw Rick turn his back to them now.

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Noah’s my ward.” Dawn pressed, her gaze unwavering. “Beth took his place and now I’m losing her so I need him back.”

Officer Shepherd spoke up behind Dawn, her voice weak but pleading. “M’am, plea–”

“Shut up.” Dawn snapped, silencing her subordinate. “My officers put their lives on the line to find him, one of them died.”

Daryl bristled, a palm shooting out against Noah’s chest to stop him from moving forward. “No.” He lightly pushed the boy back, squaring up next to Rick. “He ain’t stayin.”

“He’s one of mine, you have no claim on him.”

“The boy wants to go home.” Rick’s voice remained steady despite the tension. “So you have no claim on him.”

“Well.” Dawn tilted her head, lips pursing. “Then we don’t have a deal.”

“The deal –” Rick’s reply was quick, tone now terse. “Is done.”

Beth tightened her jaw as Noah stumbled past her. “I-it’s okay!” He stammered, eyes flicking between Rick and Dawn as he moved forward.

“No.” Rick held out a hand to stop him. “No –”

Limping up to him, Noah looked at Rick, his eyes sad and expression resigned. “I gotta do it.” He reached into the back of his pants, pulling free the pistol Rick had given him and offering it back.

“That’s not okay –” the words tumbled past Beth’s lips, hoarse and so soft that nobody heard her.

“Then it’s settled.”

Though Dawn’s face remained neutral, Beth bristled as she picked up the undertones of smug satisfaction in her voice. “No!” She rushed past the others. “Wait –” wrapping her arms around Noah in a tight hug, face pressed against his shoulder.

“It’s okay…” Noah smiled at the gesture, but his eyes held all the despair he kept in.

Dawn’s eyes flicked to Noah. “I knew you’d be back.”

And Beth — bruised, scarred, finally free — snapped. Slowly she dropped her arms from around Noah, tear stained eyes now bright and fierce. She turned, facing Dawn with a cold expression. “I get it now.”

Dawn’s brow quirked, eyes narrowing slightly as her head tilted, gaze searching the blonde’s face as if she could find the answer in her features, missing how she reached into her cast and drew the small, sharpened scissors.

A flick of the wrist. A lunge.

Steel met flesh.

The gunshot shattered the hallway.

Daryl barely saw the movement. One moment Beth was stepping forward, something fierce and defiant in her eyes—then came the flash and the blood.

She fell like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

He didn’t remember moving.
Didn’t remember lifting the pistol.
Didn’t remember pulling the trigger.
Rick yelling, "Daryl—!"

The shot.
Her body hitting the floor.
But that wasn’t enough.
Daryl was on her before anyone could stop him. He tackled Dawn’s limp form, teeth bared, fists raining down. Restraint, grief, loss—Merle, Sophia, Hershel, Beth—all of it exploded through him.

Rick lunged forward, grabbing Daryl by the shoulders. “She’s gone, Daryl—stop it!”

But Daryl was shaking, face twisted in anguish, fury spilling out in guttural sobs.
“No! She didn’t have to—she didn’t have to—she was –”

Behind them, a voice choked out a weak sound. “Daryl...?”

It was barely more than a breath.

But he froze.

Rick stopped pulling. Everyone turned.

Beth was still on the ground, unmoving—but her fingers twitched and her eyes fluttered.

“Beth?” Carol’s voice broke as she rushed forward. “Oh my God—Beth!”

Daryl stumbled toward her, dropping to his knees. His hands hovered over her, bloodied, trembling.

The bullet had torn a deep gash above her temple. Blood soaked her hair. But her chest rose. Her eyes blinked, unfocused, dazed—but alive.

“She’s breathing,” Carol confirmed, pressing gauze to the wound, her hands steady even as tears streamed down her face. “The bullet grazed her. Didn’t go in.”

Daryl fell backward like someone had yanked the soul out of him and he stared at his hands—Dawn’s blood, Beth’s blood, all over them.

Rick crouched beside him, steady. “She’s alive, Daryl. We’ve got her.”

Daryl just nodded, numb.

Everything after was chaos.

The hospital cops were rattled, guns drawn, half of them yelling about breach of terms. But when they saw Beth alive— they paused.

Noah stepped in, his hands raised. “This doesn’t need to go any farther.” Noah’s voice trembled. “We all know what she was like, what she was turning into.” He gestured at Dawn’s fallen body.

Officer Shepherd found her tongue again, clearing her throat as she tentatively stepped forward with her hands raised and gun holstered. “She was unstable. We all knew it.”

Another nodded grimly after a moment of reflection “She was gonna get us all killed.”

Rick didn’t holster his weapon, but he lowered it slightly. “We take our people and go. You stay here, keep your little kingdom. No one else dies tonight.”

There was a long pause.

Then a nod.

Agreement.

The Grady group moved to treat Beth’s wound without resistance. The rest of Rick’s people circled close, weapons raised, but tension slowly bled out of the air.

Daryl stood over Beth the whole time, jaw clenched, silent and still. When she winced in pain, he flinched harder than she did.

Chapter 2

Notes:

Here we are with chapter 2! I think how I want to do this is do two chapters every weekend! One on saturday, one on sunday.

That night they camped a few miles from the city, using a scavenged ambulance as shelter.

Beth was unconscious, her head wrapped in clean white gauze, her breathing shallow but steady. They gave her antibiotics, fluids, and rest. Hershel would’ve said the body does the work when it’s safe enough to start, and still, Daryl hadn’t left her side.

Rick came to him around midnight, crouching by the back bumper of the vehicle.
“You did what you thought was right.”

Daryl didn’t look up. “I lost it.”

“You thought she was dead. We all did.”

“I killed Dawn,” he said, voice low. “She was already down. I didn’t have to beat on her like that.”

Rick didn’t argue. He just let the silence sit.

“You’d do it for Carl,” Daryl added, after a long moment.

Rick’s jaw tightened. “I would.”

And that was all that needed to be said.

Beth only stirred with the arrival of the sun.

Her eyes cracked open to pale golden light streaming through the ambulance’s cracked windows. Her head throbbed like she had been hit by a freight train, and everything felt wrong—distant, underwater.
But the first thing she saw was him.

Daryl.

Sitting at her feet, back hunched, head down like the weight of the world had been hung from his shoulders.

She opened her mouth. Tried to speak.

Nothing came out.

She swallowed and tried again. “Daryl…”

His head snapped up. Daryl’s face was wrecked—dark eyes rimmed red and lips parted like he’d seen a ghost.

“Hey,” she rasped.

“Beth.” His voice was nothing but breath. He scrambled forward, hovering over her but not daring to touch. “Jesus, Beth—are you—does it hurt? Y’need water?”

She gave him a tiny smile, just a twitch of her lips. “You look worse than me.”

A broken laugh escaped him, more a breathless rasp than anything. “You scared th'hell outta me,” he said, voice cracking in the middle. “You went down and I thought—” He blinked hard. “I thought I lost you.”

“I’m okay,” she whispered. “I think.”

His hands were trembling. “You’re not okay. But you’re here.” He paused, tightening his jaw. “Don’t you ever—ever—do somethin’ that stupid again.”

She reached out and touched his wrist, just lightly. “I had to try…”

It was enough.

“I—after you fell, I—” Daryl looked down. “I killed her. Dawn.”

Beth’s breath caught.

“I shot her but after I couldn’t stop. Rick pulled me off.” He looked up again, barely able to meet her gaze. “You don’t gotta be okay with it. I just-" He paused, jaw shifting.

Beth stared at him for a long moment.

Then, slowly, she nodded. “She was never gonna stop. You did what you had to.”

He looked at her like he couldn’t believe she’d say that.

“I would’ve done the same for you,” she added, softer.

They sat in silence then, just breathing the same air.

And when her fingers laced gently through his, he didn’t let go.

Chapter 3

Notes:

So, I've decided I'm going to try to release three chapters a week! I know that sounds like a lot but I wrote a bunch before I first started posting so I have a little cushion of content I can fall back on while I write the rest c: Funnily enough some characters take me longer than others to get right like Eugene and Abraham, haha.

I'm super happy to hear that you all are enjoying and I hope I can keep that energy up! <3

The meeting point was an abandoned auto shop two towns north of Atlanta.

Rick had radioed ahead. The rest of the group had been holed up there, waiting, hoping.

Beth sat in the back of the car, wrapped in Carol’s blanket. Her fingers fidgeted with the frayed edge while the world rushed past outside the window. Her head was healing—bandages clean now, the deep gash sealed with time and care—but inside, everything still felt cracked open.

Daryl sat beside her. He hadn’t moved more than five feet from her since she woke up. “You okay?” he asked gruffly, eyes forward.

Beth gave a small nod. “Nervous.”

He grunted. “She’s gonna be happy.”

“I know. It’s just…" Beth didn’t finish, she couldn't. How could she explain that while she was never dead, she still didn’t feel entirely alive since waking up?

Maggie was the first out the door when they pulled in. She was already running before the engine shut off, boots hitting gravel hard, arms pumping. Glenn called after her, but she didn’t stop.

Beth opened the back door with shaking hands.

When Maggie saw her—really saw her—she stopped short like someone had slammed a hand against her chest.

Beth stepped down, slow, knees weak.

They stared at each other for a heartbeat. Then Maggie sprinted forward and pulled her into a crushing hug, sobbing like her lungs would collapse. “Bethy—oh God—Bethy!”

Beth’s arms wrapped tight around her sister, clinging like the breeze might snatch her up if she dared to let go. “I’m here,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I’m here.”

Maggie cupped her face, crying and laughing all at once. “They said—you were shot. I thought—I thought I lost you too—”

“You didn’t,” Beth said softly, her forehead against Maggie’s. “Not this time.”

Glenn reached them, breathless, and pulled both sisters into his arms.

Carol stood a few steps back, her face unreadable, but her eyes were misted. She knew what it felt like to lose a daughter, and now she knew what it was like to get one back.

Later that night, the group sat around a small fire in the corner of the auto shop, the building fortified and silent under a violet sky. The air smelled of oil and wood smoke.

Abraham had clapped Beth gently on the shoulder earlier, said, “Damn glad to see you walkin’, ma’am,” and left it at that. Rosita had offered her a clean shirt. Simple acts of recognition.

It was Maggie who stayed closest. She couldn’t stop touching Beth’s arm, her hand, her shoulder—like she was afraid she’d vanish again if left alone too long.

Beth didn’t mind. She understood the need to hold on.

Across the fire Eugene groused to Abraham and Rosita
.
“Absolutely not,” Eugene declared, holding up a half-burnt can of what might’ve once been green beans.

Rosita narrowed her eyes. “It’s food.”

“It is a post-apocalyptic affront to the palate and the gastrointestinal tract.”

Abraham leaned back on a log, smirking as he cleaned his knife. “Just eat it, Eugene. Builds character.”

“I will have you know I possess ample character,” Eugene replied indignantly. “What I do not possess is the digestive resilience of a damn cockroach.”

Rosita laughed, tossing him a granola bar instead. “Baby.”

Eugene opened it with suspicion. “I am a man of intellect and discerning taste, not to be mocked.”

Abraham raised a brow. “You were just chewing mint leaves and calling them ‘field toothpaste’ like five minutes ago.”

“Sanitation is survival,” Eugene snapped.

Beth couldn’t help but crack a smile, her eyes drifting until they rested on the only one not near the fire, Daryl. She glanced up at him and gave a small, tired smile. “You okay?” she waved him forward.

He shrugged, scratching at the back of his neck. “You sure you wanna waste that seat on me?”

Maggie looked up at him too. “Sit down, Dixon.”

He hesitated. And then, quietly, he did — taking the empty spot next to Beth, and once he was settled Beth’s fingers slipped right between his, like it was where they belonged.

Chapter 4

The van rattled down the road, the late day sunlight filtering weakly through the trees. Beth sat in the back, legs pulled up, head resting against the cool window. The hum of tires against pavement should have lulled her, but her muscles remained coiled, her eyes half-lidded but never fully closed.

Every time she blinked, it was there.

The tile hallway.
The sound of her own voice before the gunshot.
The look in Dawn’s eyes.
How it had gone dark.
Sometimes, it was just a flash of blood, sometimes, it was silent.

She pressed her hand to her temple. The skin was tender under the bandage, she was still healing.

Still here.

But her mind didn’t always believe it.

Noah was talking quietly with Glenn and Rick near the front, his voice tinged with cautious hope. “Brick buildings. Clean streets. They had water, walls. Good people. My mom and brothers were there when we left.” He swallowed. “It’s not perfect, but it’s something.”

Abraham drove with quiet intensity. Rosita was polishing a blade beside him. Maggie, in the seat ahead of Beth, kept turning around every so often to glance at her.

Beth gave her a tight smile each time, but she didn’t say much. Her throat felt thick all the time now.

They stopped at a rundown gas station that evening. Not to refuel—there hadn’t been usable gas in days—but to rest, stretch, and scavenge for anything they might have missed.

Beth stepped outside slowly, legs stiff from sitting too long. The cold hit her skin like a slap. She stood near the van, watching Noah pace nearby, talking quietly to Glenn. Every few words, his voice cracked with a tremble of desperate hope. Beth felt a jagged pain in her chest. She remembered what it was like to believe in a place. In peace, in safety. Grady had offered it, at first. Warm food, a bed, clean sheets.

A lie wrapped in sterile white.

And when she’d tried to take back something of herself, they’d punished her for it. She didn’t even notice that her hands had begun to shake.

“You okay?” The voice came from behind her—gruff, soft, familiar.

Daryl.

She turned her head. “Yeah,” she lied.

He just stared at her. “You ain’t slept in two nights,” he said.

“I’ve slept.” He tilted his head. “You've been flinchin at every noise.”

Beth bit her lip, eyes glancing away. “That obvious?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he moved closer, arms crossed loosely, gaze on the treeline. “I still see the prison sometimes,” he murmured. “Smoke. Fire. Hershel’s—” He stopped himself.

Beth’s chest tightened. “I see it too,” she whispered. “Sometimes I dream I’m still at Grady. Can’t move, can’t speak, they’re deciding things over me. Like I’m a piece of furniture.” She wiped her cheek, she didn’t even realize she was crying.

Daryl reached out slowly, gently. His hand brushed her wrist—not grabbing, just present. “You ain’t there anymore,” he said. “They didn’t get to keep you.”

Beth let herself exhale shakily. “I don’t feel like I came back whole.”

“No one comes back whole,” Daryl said quietly. “But you came back.”

Their eyes met—his dark and haunted, hers blue and brimming with pain—and something passed between them that didn’t need to be named.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The next morning the air was heavy with silence. Rick stood at the edge of the tree line with Michonne, Glenn, Noah, and Tyreese, eyes locked on the gates to the community just beyond. The neighborhood was still—eerily still. No movement, no walkers, just the smell of scorched wood.

“Radio in if something happens,” Rick said, handing one of the walkies to Carol back at the van. “If you don’t hear from us in thirty, assume we’ve got a problem.”

Carol nodded, jaw tight. “Be careful.”

Rick turned to the rest. “Stay sharp. We’ll call back as soon as we know.”

Beth watched him go, heart thudding low in her chest as their group disappeared. The moment they were out of sight, she wrapped her arms around herself and took a breath that didn’t go as deep as she wanted it to. She hated this part—the waiting, the wondering.

Maggie noticed and stepped close. “You okay?”

Beth nodded automatically. “Yeah. Just cold.”

But Maggie knew her better than that. She placed a hand on Beth’s arm, eyes searching. “You don’t have to pretend for me.”

“I’m not,” Beth said softly. I’m trying.

And that last part, at least, was true.

Daryl had been quiet since breakfast, which was nothing new—but now he seemed… restless. After about ten minutes of standing guard, he slung his crossbow over his shoulder and muttered, “Gonna check the perimeter. See if there’s anything worth grabbing.”

Carol gave a short nod, trusting him without question.

Beth straightened before she’d even fully processed what she was about to say. “I’ll go with you.”

That made everyone pause.

Maggie turned instantly, eyes narrowing. “Beth.”

“I’m fine,” Beth said quickly.

“You’re still healing,” Maggie argued. “You haven’t even fully recovered from—”

“I can walk, Maggie. I can carry a bag, I can keep up.” Beth’s tone wasn’t defensive. It was pleading. “I can’t just keep sitting here doing nothing.”

Daryl gave her a glance, unreadable. “It ain’t gonna be long. Just a sweep. Close by.”

“I’ll stay close,” Beth added. “Promise.”

Maggie looked between them, jaw clenched. Then finally, her voice tight: “If anything happens—”

“It won’t,” Daryl said firmly.

That was what finally convinced her.

“Fine,” Maggie sighed. “But be back before Rick radios in.”

Beth gave her a quick hug—one that Maggie held a beat too long—before grabbing her coat from the truck.

Daryl had already started walking, Beth caught up beside him without saying a word. They moved through the woods just outside the neighborhood ruins, the sun cutting weak angles through the trees. Birds had stopped singing weeks ago, but the wind rustled gently through the branches like it was trying to fill the silence.

Beth’s boots crunched on leaves beside Daryl’s heavier steps. They didn’t talk at first. She liked that about him—his quiet. He didn’t press. Didn’t fill the air with empty words. He gave her space to just be.

Eventually, they found a small tool shed behind a collapsed property. Its roof was caved in, but the lock on the side door had already been busted, likely by earlier scavengers.

Still, Daryl nodded to it. “Worth a look.”

Inside, they found a rusted toolbox, some expired batteries, a soaked tarp, and a roll of duct tape.

“Not exactly gold,” Beth murmured, examining a shattered lantern.

Daryl grunted. “Better than nothin’.”

Beth stuffed the batteries into her side bag. As she bent down, she winced slightly—her head throbbing when she dipped.

“You okay?” Daryl asked.

“Yeah.” She straightened with a small exhale. “Just a twinge.”

He gave her a long look but said nothing.

Beth leaned against the door frame, glancing at the skyline beyond the trees. “Do you think Noah’s place is legit?” she asked quietly.

Daryl was quiet for a beat, then shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Can’t count on places.”

“Did you before?” Beth asked. “The prison, the farm...”

“Didn’t count on nothin’,” he said, voice flat. “Still don’t.”

Beth studied his face. “You counted on me.”

That made him pause. He looked at her, eyes narrowing slightly—not angry. Just uncertain. Like she’d touched a part of him he didn’t have words for.

“You didn’t let me go,” she said. “Anyone else would’ve written me off as dead.”

Daryl’s jaw tightened. “You weren’t.”

“I could’ve been, easily. But you didn’t stop fighting, you didn’t stop looking.”

Something flickered in his eyes then—pain, maybe, or fear. “I couldn’t,” he said finally. “Couldn’t lose you.”

And Beth… she didn’t say anything else. She just stepped forward and rested her hand over his, where it hung at his side.

He didn’t pull away. For a long moment, they stood there—barely touching, but the space between them thick with everything unsaid.

They returned just as the walkie crackled.

Rick’s voice came through, low but steady: “It’s gone. Everything. Place was burned out months ago. We’ll finish checking for supplies and head back.”

Carol answered, “Copy. We’ll be ready.”

Maggie looked up as Beth and Daryl approached. She immediately scanned Beth from head to toe.

“I’m fine,” Beth said before she could ask.

Maggie raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue.

As the group settled into another round of waiting, Beth wandered toward the edge of the lot where the treeline met cracked pavement.

Daryl followed a few steps behind, standing about three feet back.

“You said I came back.” Beth began, gaze fixed on the treeline. “But sometimes it feels like something didn’t come with me.”

Daryl stepped closer. “Maybe somethin’ didn’t,” he said, voice low. “But that don’t mean what’s left ain’t worth somethin’.”

Beth’s lips parted slightly, turning to look at him with wide eyes, and she stepped forward. She didn’t kiss him. Didn’t try to push past the ache between them. She just leaned her forehead gently against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, steady and alive.

Daryl froze for a moment—then slowly, awkwardly, wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

They stood there in silence.

Together.

Chapter 5

Notes:

Formatting may be a teeensy bit off in some areas!

I have a morning shift tomorrow and almost forgot to post this before bed!

The car came into view just before dusk.

Rick was behind the wheel, jaw locked, eyes dark. Michonne and Glenn sat in silence. Noah was crying softly in the back.

And Tyreese—

Tyreese was wrapped in a bloodied sheet in the trunk.

Beth felt her breath catch.

Daryl stood beside her, his jaw clenched.

Carol stepped forward first, her expression unreadable, though her hands trembled slightly at her sides.

Maggie moved to Glenn.

Beth stayed still.

Watching.

Absorbing.

One less.

Sasha moved, her face pale, eyes like carved stone. She didn’t cry. She didn’t speak. She just walked past the group and stood a few yards away, hands fisted at her sides like they were the only things keeping her upright.

Father Gabriel stepped out behind her, his face already turned toward the ground.

Beth’s stomach turned as grief bloomed like a bruise in her chest. Tyreese hadn’t been her closest friend. But he’d been good. Steady. A quiet kind of strength that had reminded her of her father.

And now he was gone.

Just like that.

Because that’s what this world did. It took .

They made camp in the woods near the van. The neighborhood wasn’t safe—not anymore.

Gabriel gathered wood for a fire while Sasha sat on a log nearby, staring at the earth in front of her, not blinking.

Beth moved quietly around the edge of the camp, helping Carol boil water, taking a watch shift for Glenn, anything to keep her hands from shaking again and her mind from wandering.

But it was Daryl who kept glancing toward her, like he was waiting for the moment she’d break again.

She didn’t.

Not yet.

____________________________________________________________________________

Father Gabriel stood by the shallow grave they’d dug beneath a thicket of pines. The fire flickered low, casting shadows across the group’s faces.

Tyreese’s body lay wrapped in a clean sheet now, hands crossed over his chest, the blood hidden from view. Sasha had done that part herself. Her face hadn’t changed.

Gabriel’s voice was soft, measured. “We commend our brother, Tyreese, to the earth. A man of peace in a world that forgot how to make it.”

No one spoke.

"Tyreese gave his strength to protect others, and his heart…to forgive even when it hurt. We are not gathered here today because we are whole, but because he made us stronger when we were not. He carried the weight of this world on his shoulders, and still chose gentleness."

Sasha made no sound.

Beth stood beside Maggie, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

Gabriel’s eyes moved across the group. “Let us remember him not for how he died—but for how he lived. For what he protected. For the hope he tried to carry even when the rest of us had none left.”

It was the word hope that broke Beth’s breath, b ecause she’d nearly lost hers too.

And here they were—still losing, still burying.

Gabriel offered a prayer.

Beth didn’t close her eyes. She looked straight at the grave. She owed it that.

When it ended, the group stood in silence. One by one, they drifted away.

Except Sasha.

Beth found her sitting by a tree. Alone. Shoulders tight. Staring into the distance like if she looked long enough, Tyreese would walk out of the shadows and sit beside her.

Beth approached her slowly. “Hey.”

Sasha didn’t look up.

She sat next to her anyway, leaving just enough space between them, and after a long silence, she said, “It’s not fair. Any of it.”

Sasha’s voice, when it came, was hoarse. “He was the good one.”

“I know.”

“He saved people. He forgave. He let go.” Sasha’s hands clenched in her lap. “I don’t know how to do that. I don’t want to.”

Beth looked down. “Me either.”

That made Sasha turn, just slightly, brow furrowing.

Beth met her eyes. “I hated Dawn. I hated what she did to people. What she let them do to me. And even now, when I think about her dying—I don’t feel peace. I feel hollow .”

Sasha’s lip trembled, but she held it down.

Beth continued, quieter now. “You’re not alone. In any of it.”

Sasha let out a breath—shaky, like it came from somewhere deep—and looked back at the trees, b ut she didn’t ask Beth to leave.

And that, maybe, was something.

____________________________________________________________________

Later that night, the fire burned low and most of the group was asleep.

Daryl sat alone again—on the edge of the clearing, back against a tree, eyes half-closed but awake.

Beth approached quietly.

He looked up without surprise.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she said.

He nodded toward the space beside him. She sank down without hesitation.

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the wind push softly through the leaves.

“You did good with Sasha,” he said eventually.

“I didn’t do anything,” Beth said.

“Sometimes that’s what people need.”

She glanced over at him, her voice soft. “Do you ever think about how different we are now? Like… pieces of who we used to be just didn’t make it.”

Daryl didn’t answer right away. His eyes stayed fixed on the dying fire. “Yeah,” he said finally. “Ain’t the same as we were. Not even close.”

Beth nodded, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Does that ever get to you?”

He shifted. “It used to.”

She looked at him. “And now?”

Daryl met her gaze, quiet but firm. “Now I’m more afraid of losing what’s left.”

Beth stared at him, her heart beating unevenly in her chest. Her hand reached out, slowly, and found his.

His hand was calloused, large, warm, and familiar. It curled lightly around hers.

They sat like that until the fire burned down to nothing.

Chapter 6

Notes:

I really think if Beth had survived she and Noah would've grown to be very good friends! After all, they had each other's back in Grady the best they could.

The group had camped the next night in the skeletal remains of a garage that sat separate from a house that was a bit too torn into for Rick’s comfort. It wasn’t much but they all were too spent to keep moving after laying Tyreese to rest beneath a cold patch of dirt.

Beth sat near the garage’s back wall, arms wrapped around her knees. Her coat smelled like firewood and road dust, and her fingers were raw from the wind. The fire had burned out hours ago, now only a pile of glowing coals that flickered like dying stars.

Footsteps crunched softly over the gravel. She looked up and saw Noah, standing nearby with his arms folded across his chest.

He looked like a ghost.

He hadn’t spoken much since they’d buried Tyreese. His eyes were hollow, haunted.

“You okay?” Beth asked quietly.

Noah didn’t answer right away. He just sat down beside her, slow and heavy, like every part of him ached. “It was my fault.” Noah didn’t look at her. His gaze was locked on the horizon. “Tyreese died in my house. I brought him there. If we hadn’t gone back…”

Beth shook her head slowly. “Noah—”

“My mom. My brothers. Everyone in that place. I wanted to see it again. I thought maybe… maybe something could be left. I thought—” His voice cracked, and he looked away, teeth gritted hard. “That was my little brother, the one that bit him.” His throat worked around the words. “He wouldn’t have died if we hadn’t gone back there,” Noah said, his voice tightening.

Beth’s heart ached. She knew that pain. That guilt that sank deep into your bones and told you every death was yours to carry. She placed a hand gently on his arm. “Noah… there’s no way you could’ve known.”

He shook his head, jaw clenched. “I just wanted to go home.”

Beth’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Me too.”

Noah looked at her then—really looked—and for a moment, neither of them were survivors or watchmen or lookouts or medics. They were just two young hearts who had buried too many people too soon.

“I remember what that felt like. When we lost the farm, after the herd… I remember wondering if I’d ever see anything again that felt like home.” Beth looked down at her hands. “I thought I found it for a little bit in the prison, and then the Governor came.” A brief pause passed, before “I never got to bury my dad,” Beth added softly.


Noah’s eyes dropped.

“I still think about Daddy,” Beth said. “And everyone we lost from the prison, and I think about the others still stuck at the hospital.”

Noah’s jaw tensed. “How do you keep going?”

Beth took a long, shaky breath and looked up. “I think about the people I haven’t lost,” she said. “The ones still here. Judith, Maggie, Daryl, You.”

He blinked, surprised. “Me?”

“You being here matters, It matters to me.” Beth said. “You carry something forward, for Tyreese, for your family.”

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough,” he muttered.

Beth offered a small, sad smile. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. You just have to keep moving.”


Noah’s shoulders sagged, and they sat in the quiet that followed. The kind that didn’t feel quite so empty anymore.

Chapter 7

Notes:

Whoah, what's this? Two chapters in one day! I'm approaching the last two days of a hectic work schedule so I wanted to celebrate a little with all you lovely readers! <3

The road stretched on in silence.

Three days had passed since they buried Tyreese.
Three days since they used up the rest of their gas.
Three days of walking, of rationing water, of dwindling food and sleep.
Three days of everyone slipping deeper into their own shadows.

Beth kept pace beside Maggie in the mornings. But by noon, she usually drifted and by nightfall she was often near Daryl.

He never said anything about it. Never asked.

But when she quietly found her place beside him on the ground or near a fire, he shifted just enough to make space.

He always made space.

The nights were the hardest.

Beth tried not to sleep too deep. When she did, the dreams came — thick, suffocating memories of sterile white rooms, the squeak of shoes on tile, the weight of Gorman’s hand on her thigh as he leaned in too close. His breath, hot and stale.

“You owe me.”

She would wake up gasping. Sometimes with her nails dug into her palm. Sometimes with a scream locked behind her teeth.

Daryl was the only one who ever noticed. He never asked, he just passed her his water, or sat a little closer the next night.

But one evening, as they camped by the side of the road beneath a twisted, leafless tree, Beth didn't sleep at all. And she didn’t think she could keep it inside anymore.


That night the fire was little more than coals.

Maggie and Glenn slept curled together. Abraham snored softly. Sasha was awake but staring into the dark, her eyes haunted and far away.

Beth sat across the fire from Daryl, her arms wrapped around her knees.

He looked at her, brows low. “You ain't slept.”

She shook her head. “I can take watch,”

“You already did.”

“Then let me do it again.”

Daryl didn’t argue. But he didn’t leave, either.

She was quiet for a long time before she said, “There was a man, at Grady.”

Daryl’s head turned slightly, but he didn’t speak.

“An officer, Gorman. He’s dead now.” Her voice was flat. Like she was reading it from somewhere else. “He used to come into the rooms I was working in and… stand too close. He’d touch things. My arm, my hair. He said I owed him for my medicine, for being saved.”

Daryl’s hands curled into slow fists.

Beth didn’t look at him. “He tried to—” She stopped. Her throat tightened. “I fought him off, barely. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream, I just –-” She looked down at her palms. “I’ve never told anyone that.”

The fire popped. Daryl didn’t move. Didn’t say anything at first. And then, he stood up and walked around the fire to sit beside her. He was quiet for a long time, and then: “Wish I’d been there.”

Beth turned her head. “Why?”

His voice was low, raw. “So he’d be dead ‘cause of me.”

Beth swallowed hard. Her lip trembled. “I feel sick when I remember it. Like… like I’m still stuck there. Like he’s still in the room.”

Daryl looked straight ahead, jaw clenched. “You ain’t there,” he said. “You’re here. You got out. You fought out.”

She whispered. “I didn’t do anything heroic.”

He turned to her now, his expression sharp and quiet with intensity. “You survived,” he said. “You’re breathing. You’re walkin’. You didn’t let it take you. That’s more than most can say.”

Beth felt something split open inside her — not in a way that hurt. Just something raw and long-buried gasping for air. “Do you really think that?” she asked.

He looked at her like it was the only thing he did know for sure. “Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

Beth leaned her shoulder against him, slowly.

And Daryl—stiff, unsure, and uncomfortable in most kinds of touch—let her. After a moment, he reached up, hesitant, and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers grazed her temple, where the bullet wound was still healing under the skin.

Beth turned to him, and for a moment, they were closer than they'd ever been. The firelight flickered between them, but didn’t fill the space.

“I don’t know if I’m ever going to be okay again,” she said, a beat of silence passing between them before she quietly added. “But I’m still here.”

“Yeah,” he said. “You are.”

Her hand found his again in the dark, and this time he held it tighter.

Not because she needed him to.
But because he needed to.

The next morning they walked in silence.

Daryl hadn’t said a word about the night before, but he walked closer to her now. Shielded her a little more from the road, looked at her like he saw her, not the trauma.

And that, to Beth, was everything.

Chapter 8

Maggie noticed it first in the way Beth walked.

Not the limp, that was fading.

Not the way she hunched when she was cold or sore.

But how she drifted .

She wasn’t tethered to her anymore. It used to be the two of them—sisters clinging close like roots in a storm. But now Beth kept pace with Daryl more than anyone. She walked where he walked, sat near him at camp, looked for him when she jolted awake from a dream.

Maggie told herself not to read into it.

They’d both been through hell.

They needed each other.

But there was something more in the way Beth looked at him sometimes. Something Maggie hadn’t seen since before the fall of the prison. Hope. Ache. Longing.

And in Daryl?

Maggie saw the same thing she always had—bristling solitude, unreadable silence, a constant, quiet readiness to throw himself between danger and someone he cared about.

But now, that someone was Beth, a nd that scared Maggie more than she wanted to admit.

They camped in a ditch that night, with canvas pulled taut between sticks to block the wind. It wasn’t shelter, but it was something. Beth sat close to Daryl, sharing the end of a can of cold beans. They didn’t speak much, they didn’t have to.

Maggie watched from across the fire as Beth leaned in to say something — something small, something quiet — and Daryl gave the faintest hint of a smile in return.

A real one.

The kind people didn’t see often.

Maggie felt it twist in her chest.

Later that night Maggie found Beth alone at the edge of the camp, staring up at the sky.

“You okay?” Maggie asked, approaching carefully.

Beth nodded, but didn’t turn.

“You and Daryl’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

Beth tensed slightly, then let out a soft: “Yeah.”

“You talk about it much?”

“What?”

“What you went through.”

Beth was quiet.

“I know something happened there, Beth. I see it.”

Beth let out a slow breath. “He knows what it’s like. Not to be safe…to not feel safe.”

Maggie stepped closer, voice softening. “I get it. I do. But I worry—about how much you lean on him.”

Beth finally turned, eyes steady. “He’s never asked for more than I can give.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Then say what you mean.”

Maggie’s mouth went tight. “I mean you’re still healing, in every way. And he’s—he’s not exactly a steady foundation.”

Beth stared at her, hurt flickering across her face. “You don’t trust him?” she asked.

“I do . With my life. I just don’t know if he knows how to trust himself with yours.”

Beth crossed her arms, voice quiet but hard. “You think I’m fragile.”

“I think you’re hurting .”

“I am . But I’m not broken.”

Maggie stepped forward, her voice softening again. “I know. But I lost you once, Beth. I can't—I can’t do it again.”

Beth’s expression crumpled for just a second.

“I’m not asking you to let me go,” she whispered. “Just… let me stand up on my own.”

Maggie looked down, blinking fast. “When Rick told us you’d been shot, I thought you died.” she said, voice cracking, “I didn’t want to believe it. And now I have you back, and it feels like I barely know you anymore.”

Beth reached for her hand. “Then ask.”

Maggie looked up. “What happened to you?”

Beth took a long breath. Her voice trembled, but she didn’t shy away. “I was trapped, controlled, touched when I didn’t want to be. Silenced, drugged, treated like a body, not a person. And I survived by giving them nothing, not even my tears.”

Maggie’s throat closed.

Beth looked away. “And Daryl… he’s the first person who hasn’t looked at me like I’m a victim. He makes space. Not demands.”

“I don’t want you to lose yourself in him.”

Beth turned back. “I already lost myself, Maggie. I’m trying to find the pieces and he’s one of them.”

Maggie didn’t have an answer for that.

She just stepped forward and pulled Beth into a tight, shaking hug.

And Beth held on.

Chapter 9

Across the camp Daryl sat at the far edge of the ditch, sharpening his blade in slow, methodical movements. He didn’t turn when footsteps approached.

Carol sat down next to him, uninvited. “You know Maggie’s watching,” she said.

He scoffed. “So?”

“She’s watching you and Beth.”

“Then she’s got too much time on her hands.”

Carol smiled faintly, not looking at him. “She’s not the only one who sees it.”

“There ain’t nothin’ to see,” Daryl muttered, sharper than he meant to.

Carol shrugged. “You sure about that?”

Daryl bristled. “Ain’t anyone’s business.”

Carol let a beat of silence settle between them before she spoke again, voice level. “You care about her.”

He finally turned his head, just enough to glance at her.

She met his eyes. “You think you’re hidin’ it, but Daryl… you ain’t exactly subtle.”

Daryl looked away again, back to the trees, fidgeting with the handle of his knife. He didn’t deny it.

Carol went on, voice steady. “You guard her more than your damn crossbow. The way you were when that hospital took her? You wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sleep, and you barely spoke to anyone. You were tearing through Atlanta like it owed you something.”

Daryl’s voice was low, tight. “We needed her back. I just found her, that’s all.”

Carol looked at him, sideways and steady. “No, Daryl, that wasn’t all. You stormed that hospital like hell itself was gonna burn if they didn’t let her go. And when we got her back—patched up, head wound and all, barely conscious—you didn’t let anyone else carry her.”

His glare darkened, voice low. “Someone had to, she wasn’t gonna walk out herself.”


“And that someone had to be you. Your name was the first she called when she came too in that hallway and you held onto her like the world would end if you let go, like she was the only thing left that was still worth saving.” she said gently.


“She was ,” Daryl snapped—too fast, too raw. The words hit the air and hung there.


Carol’s gaze softened. “There it is.”

“She’s alive, ain’t she?” he tightened his jaw, hand now stilled on the blade, the whetstone hovering for a beat before he scraped it across the metal again—harder this time. “That’s what matters.”

Carol was quiet for a beat, then said, “That’s not the only thing that matters. Not anymore.” she looked toward the fire, where Beth sat with Maggie, holding Judith on her lap and humming. “She means something to you,” Carol said. “And it scares the hell out of you. You can’t pretend like you don’t feel it, not after all that. The way you were… it wasn’t just about bringing someone home.”


“I ain’t scared,” he said quietly, voice rough.


Carol didn’t respond right away. She just stood, brushing dirt from her hands, then glanced down at him—her expression soft, but edged with something knowing. “No,” she said, “You’re not scared of walkers, or dying, or going hungry.” She paused. “But letting someone in? Letting yourself have something good for once?” She shook her head. “Yeah, Daryl. That terrifies you.”

He didn’t look at her. His eyes were locked on the fire, on Beth, still humming to Judith while Maggie reached out and tucked Beth’s hair behind her ear. Then, she smiled at something Maggie said. It was small, soft, and real.

Something in his chest twisted, but he didn’t name it.

Carol’s voice softened. “She’s not the same girl from the prison, and you’re not the same man who used to stand in the back of the group and grunt at everyone.”

Daryl let out a dry snort at that, but it wasn’t sharp. Just tired.

Carol smiled faintly. “You found her, she found you too. Don’t waste that.” She walked away then, leaving Daryl alone with the whetstone and the weight of her words.

For a while, Daryl didn’t move. He just sat there, hands now idle. Then, slowly, he sheathed the knife and stood. His eyes found Beth again—her head tilted back in laughter now as Judith babbled and Maggie smiled beside her. The firelight painted her hair gold, like it had the night they lit that shack on fire.

And for once, he let himself feel it.

All of it.

Chapter 10

The morning sun broke through the haze in thin beams, casting long shadows over the cracked pavement. The road stretched ahead, empty and gray, bordered by brittle trees and the occasional cleaned out car. Rick walked ahead with Michonne, their heads bent in quiet planning. The rest followed in staggered pairs.

Beth walked beside Daryl, her boots scuffing gravel as she kept pace with his longer stride.

Daryl hadn’t said much since yesterday. Not since whatever had been said between him and Carol. His jaw was tight, his eyes more on the woods flanking the road than the people around him.

Beth watched him out of the corner of her eye. “You okay?”

He didn’t look at her. “Fine.”

“You’ve barely said two words since dinner last night.”

“Still recoverin’ from Eugene’s latest monologue.”

As if summoned by name, Eugene’s voice drifted up from a few paces behind them. “—and thus, in an ideal post-collapse society, we would implement fermentation infrastructure early, both for potential fuel usage and morale maintenance. I have a preliminary formula sketched, assuming adequate sugar content and temperature regulation—”


“Eugene,” Tara groaned. “This is the third time this week you’ve brought up distilling booze.”

“I said ethanol,” Eugene corrected primly. “With potential recreational side benefits.”

Noah, carrying a small pack over one shoulder, snorted. “You know we’re still scavenging for food, right? Nobody’s building a still.”

“Which is why we are in the planning phase,” Eugene added, undeterred.

Beth smiled faintly, but her eyes were still on Daryl. “You really okay?” she asked again, softer this time.

Daryl finally glanced at her. Just a flicker. “Ain’t nothin’,” he said quickly. “Just thinkin’. Don’t matter.”

Beth slowed slightly, letting the words hang between them. “You always say that when it does.”

He said nothing. Just adjusted his crossbow on his shoulder and picked up the pace.

Beth lingered for a beat, watching him pull ahead, that quiet ache starting in her chest again.

Tara’s voice rang out behind her. “If I start drinking your 'ethanol' and go blind, Eugene, I’m haunting whatever weird little workshop you built forever.”

“I find that statistically improbable,” Eugene replied, clearly offended.

Beth exhaled slowly and stepped forward again, boots tapping softly against the road. Daryl might be trying to outrun whatever he was feeling. But she wasn’t going anywhere.

She’d catch up, she always did.

_____________________________________________________

They found the house just before sundown — a squat, peeling thing with sagging shutters and mildew clawing up its bones. But it had four walls, a fireplace that looked like it might work, and just enough space for them all to breathe for a night without watching their backs.

That was rare enough to count as a blessing now.

The group moved in without speaking. Everyone knew the drill.

Clear, secure, post a watch and eat what little there was.

Repeat.

Beth helped Maggie sort through cans while Daryl checked the perimeter. They didn’t talk much, but it was a comfortable silence. 

When they were done, Maggie gave Beth a long look. Something between hesitation and worry still lingered behind her eyes. “Don’t wander off too far,” she murmured, touching her arm.

Beth nodded, but her eyes had already drifted to the hallway, just in time to see Daryl pass by. He didn’t look at her — not really — but there was something in the set of his shoulders. Something unsaid.

Her feet moved before she even realized.

She found him in a back room — what had once been a nursery. The wallpaper had peeled into soft curls like old leaves. An overturned crib lay half-splintered near the far wall.

He sat on the edge of a stripped-down mattress, staring at nothing.

Beth lingered in the doorway. “You okay?” she asked gently.

He didn’t look at her. “Fine.”

“You always say that.”

“‘Cause it’s easier than what I wanna say.”

Beth stepped in further, letting the door shut behind her with a gentle click. “Then don’t say it all at once.”

He looked up then, and she saw it — the hollowness that had been growing in him since the prison, since Grady, since the world started swallowing all the people he let himself care about. “I talked to Carol,” he muttered.

Beth blinked. “Yeah?”

“Said I’m not subtle.”

Beth gave a small smile, though her heart picked up its pace. “She’s not wrong.”

Daryl huffed through his nose — not quite a laugh. “Told me Maggie’s watchin’. Told me… I ain’t hidin’ nothin’. That it scares the hell outta me.”

Beth moved toward him slowly. “Is she right?”

He swallowed hard. “Ain’t scared of what I feel. Just… scared of what it means.”

Beth sank to the floor in front of him, looking up. “What does it mean?”

He looked at her, really looked — and there it was. Not just longing. Not just grief. But something deeper. “It means I ain’t ever had somethin’ good I was scared to lose,” he said roughly.

Beth felt her throat tighten. She reached out and laced her fingers with his. “You’re not gonna lose me.”

His hand clenched around hers like a lifeline. “I held you in that hallway after they patched you up, and all I could think about was that night in the woods. You told me you were gonna die someday. Said I’d miss you so bad.” 

Beth’s breath caught.

“You were right,” Daryl’s voice cracked, low and quiet.“After that shot went off, that’s all I could hear. You sayin’ that. And I felt it—like the damn air got ripped outta my lungs. I was gonna burn that place down, I didn’t even think. Just… rage. Nothin’ else.”

Beth reached forward slowly, placing a grounding hand on his knee.


“I thought I lost you,” he murmured. “And the way I felt… it scared the hell outta me.”


“You didn’t lose me,” Beth whispered. “I’m here.”

“But I almost did.”

“But you didn’t,” she said again, firmer this time. “You didn’t, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Daryl’s jaw worked, and he stared at her like maybe he didn’t believe it yet, but he was trying to.

There was a silence between them then—deep and warm and full of everything they couldn’t put into words. Then Beth moved to sit beside him, close enough that her thigh pressed to his, her shoulder brushed his arm. She leaned against him, her head resting lightly on his bicep. “You’re the only place I feel steady,” she murmured. “Like…where I don’t have to pretend I’m okay.”

Daryl let out a slow breath, his free hand rising hesitantly to touch her face. His thumb brushed just under her eye, where tears hadn’t fallen but wanted to. “You ain’t never gotta pretend with me.”

Their foreheads met, slow and careful.

“Can I stay here tonight?” she asked, breath hitching slightly. “Just…with you.”

“You sure?”

Beth nodded, eyes soft. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

His hand moved to fully cup her cheek and she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for a moment. Daryl’s fingers trembled slightly where they held her, as though even now, a part of him was bracing for her to vanish.

And then she leaned in and he met her halfway.

The kiss wasn’t rushed, it was deep — not in hunger, but in weight. A careful press of mouths that carried all the grief they’d never spoken, all the days he’d hunted for her, all the nights she’d listened for the sound of his boots returning.


It said I missed you.

It said I’m still afraid.

It said I’m here.

Daryl’s hand shifted to the back of her neck, anchoring her gently, like he couldn’t stand to let her drift away again. Beth’s fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, grounding herself in him, clinging not out of desperation but recognition. They didn’t move for a long moment. When they finally parted, it wasn’t because they wanted to, but because they had to breathe.

Beth rested her forehead against his again, eyes still closed. “Okay?”

Daryl gave the smallest nod. “Yeah.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, that was true.

That night Beth lay curled beneath Daryl’s arm. Their boots were still on, ready to run if Rick gave the word. The wind howled softly outside, but the storm didn’t come.

They didn’t speak, not much needed saying.

Daryl traced quiet, aimless circles along her knuckles as the wind rasped outside. No walkers, no shouting, no gunfire.

Just stillness.

And Beth, breathing steady beside him, finally let herself rest.

Notes:

AAAAAAND it's finally happened!

I spent a lot of time refining this chapter and I really hope you all love the end product!

Chapter 11

The morning broke pale and quiet. Fog hung low over the trees, softening the edges of the world. The house, decrepit as it was, held in the heat just long enough for breath not to rise in the air.

Beth stirred first. She shifted beneath the weight of Daryl’s arm, the crook of his elbow still loosely wrapped around her. His chest rose and fell in the steady rhythm of real sleep — the kind neither of them had had much of in months.

She didn’t move, not at first, she just let herself listen to it, let herself believe for a little while that the world outside the walls didn’t exist.

Eventually, Daryl stirred. His eyes opened, blinking slowly at the ceiling above them, and then down at her. He didn’t speak, he just looked at her for a moment, eyes searching her face like he was still trying to make sure she was real.

Beth offered a soft smile. “Morning.”

He hummed a low response and let his hand drift from her arm to her fingers. Just that, nothing more.

They didn’t say any parting words when they got up, they didn’t even talk about the night before, but something was different. It hung in the space between them, not heavy, but grounding — like they were tethered now in a way they hadn’t been yesterday. By the time the others were stirring and reassembling packs, Beth and Daryl were outside, quietly moving gear to the porch. It wasn’t dramatic, no one saw them holding hands, but still—something had changed.

Carol noticed it first.

She stood beside the cold remnants of the fireplace, sipping from a canteen, eyes narrowing slightly as she watched Beth walk past Daryl, gently bumping her shoulder against his as she did. Daryl didn’t flinch, he didn’t pull away, his eyes followed her for half a second longer than necessary and softened in a way she hadn’t seen before. Carol’s lips lifted, barely. She didn’t say anything, but when Beth approached to help gather the rest of the supplies, Carol met her gaze and held it. There was no teasing smirk, no sly comment — just the look of a woman who’d seen a lot of heartbreak and recognized something whole when she saw it. “You sleep okay?” Carol asked, her tone casual.

Beth nodded. “Yeah, I did.”

Carol nodded back, quiet approval tucked into the line of her mouth. “Good.”

Rick noticed too.

He didn’t say anything outright. But as they regrouped to discuss their next move, his eyes drifted between Daryl and Beth more than once. He saw the way Daryl stood just half a step closer than usual, and the way Beth looked a little less like she was bracing herself for another grueling trek. It was subtle, but Rick knew Daryl and he knew that kind of silence — the kind that said more than words ever could. He caught Daryl’s eye once as they reviewed the map, just a glance.

Daryl held the stare for a beat, then looked away.

Rick didn’t push, just nodded slightly to himself. Whatever had changed, it wasn’t his business unless it needed to be, and frankly…It looked like something Daryl needed.

Maybe something Beth did too.

Glenn came out onto the porch later , adjusting the strap of his bag. Maggie followed close behind him, still tying the sleeves of her jacket around her waist. Her hair was messy, and her eyes carried the usual weight of worry that never really left her anymore.
But even through that haze, she saw it.

Ahead, Beth handed Daryl something small, maybe a bandage or a wrapped bit of jerky, and their hands lingered, not overt, not obvious, but enough. Beth smiled at him, soft and open in a way Maggie had never seen before. Daryl didn’t smile back, not really — but something passed over his face, something unguarded.

Glenn noticed it too. He slowed just slightly, backing up until he was besides Maggie, giving her a look that was more amused than surprised. “You seein’ what I’m seein’?” he asked quietly.

Beth had just leaned in to say something to Daryl. He barely said anything in response, but the line of his shoulders eased, almost like he breathed easier when she was close.

Maggie exhaled softly. “Yeah, I see it.”

Glenn raised a brow. “You okay?”

She didn’t answer right away. Part of her wanted to say no, that it was too soon, too sudden. That it still felt like yesterday that they watched their father die, the prison fall, and Maggie not knowing if her sister was alive. But another part — the bigger one — saw the way Beth stood a little straighter now, how there was a calm in her face that hadn’t been there in months. Maggie watched as Beth brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and Daryl, without thinking, reached out to tuck it back again for her. His movements were quick and awkward, but careful. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I just…I didn’t expect this.”

“You don’t have to figure it out right now.”

Maggie blinked slowly, eyes never leaving Beth. “She looks…better.”

“She does,” Glenn agreed. “He’s not the kind of person who lets someone in easily. If he did — it means something.”

Maggie swallowed. “I just want her to be safe.”

“She is,” Glenn said softly. “And I think he knows what he’s got.”

Maggie nodded, just barely. Still unsure, still adjusting, but something in her began to release just a little — like a fist unclenching one finger at a time. “She’s okay,” she whispered, almost like she was trying to believe it.

Glenn nodded. “Yeah, she is.”

And for now, that was enough.

By midday, the group was back on the road. The house shrank behind them into the fog, its quiet walls already a memory, but something had shifted.

They still had miles to go.

Still had no guarantees.

But for the first time in a long time, Beth walked with renewed confidence with Daryl beside her — his silence now steady, not storming, and every so often she’d feel his fingers brush lightly against hers as they walked. 

Not enough to draw attention.

Just enough to say: I’m here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 12

Notes:

Extra looooong chapter for you all today!

I was initially going to split it up but since this takes place over the course of a day I decided to splice everything together.

This is the last chapter of the group wandering around until we start hitting beats of the story that ushers them to Alexandria so stay tuned ~

The fog had finally begun to lift as the day broke wide open, but the road still loomed long ahead of them. The group walked in silence, the only sounds being boots on pavement and the occasional shuffle of packs.

Carl, who had been walking with Judith in his arms, fell into step beside Beth. She glanced at him, noting the way he carried his sister—protective and steady, just like always. His face was still a little too serious for his age, but there was something softer there now, something that felt closer to the boy she remembered from the farm.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice gentle.

Carl nodded, his eyes flickering to Judith before meeting her gaze again. “Yeah...just tired.”

Beth smiled, sensing hesitation in his tone. She waited, knowing he would speak when he was ready.


After a moment, Carl finally spoke again, his voice quieter this time. “Does your head still hurt?” he asked, glancing up at her with concern.

Beth’s smile faltered for just a second, but she quickly recovered. “Not as much as before,” she said, touching the bandage lightly. “It’s mostly just a dull ache now. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Carl seemed to take comfort in her response, but he still looked at her with his brow furrowed in thought. He shifted his position, making sure Judith was secure in his arms as he took a deep breath. “Do you remember...what it was like after the prison fell?” Carl asked, his voice soft, almost like he wasn’t sure if he should bring it up. “When we were all separated?”

Beth’s heart tightened as she thought back to that day—the chaos, the running, the confusion. She remembered everything so vividly, the way the prison had felt like their last stand, the way it all came crashing down around them. But in the midst of it, there had been Daryl, he was the one constant. “I remember,” Beth said quietly, her voice far away as she let herself drift into the memories. “I remember being scared...not knowing where anyone was, if anyone was alive. But Daryl...he was there. We found each other, and that’s how we made it out.”

Carl looked down at Judith, his expression thoughtful. “It felt like the whole world was falling apart, and we were just...scattered. I remember thinking...that I’d never see you, or anyone else again. It was like everything we fought for was just...gone.”

Beth felt her chest tighten at Carl’s words. The uncertainty, the fear—she had felt that too, they had all felt it. She reached over and gently squeezed his arm, offering him what little reassurance she could. “I thought the same thing,” she said quietly. “I didn’t know if we’d ever find each other again. But somehow, we did, we all did. It wasn’t easy, but…it’s like it was meant to be.”

Carl nodded slowly, his eyes lifting to meet hers. His voice was softer now. “I’m glad we found each other again,” he said, his voice firming with sincerity. “I’m glad you’re here. That you’re okay.”

Beth smiled, the sincerity in his words making her heart swell. “We make it through these things, Carl. All of us, together.”

There was a long pause, and the group walked on in silence. The road stretched ahead, the path still uncertain, but Beth began to feel that quiet strength in her chest grow.

____________________________________________________

They had been walking for hours. The sun was high, but the heat had yet to become unbearable. Rick could see the strain on everyone’s faces—the weariness, the hunger, the uncertainty of what lay ahead. His eyes briefly met Michonne’s, and she gave him a subtle nod, now was as good a time as any to stop. “Let’s pull off the road for a minute,” Rick called, signaling for the group to move to the side where the pavement gave way to a small patch of dirt. “We need to look over the map, figure out what’s around us.”

The group obeyed, moving off the paved road and into the shadows of a nearby tree line. Rick unrolled the map on the hood of a dilapidated vehicle, and the others crowded around him. Michonne stood beside him, arms crossed, her gaze scanning the horizon. Abraham leaned over the map, his eyes narrowed as he traced a route with his finger. 

Eugene, always with a plan, added his two cents. “We should consider taking the rural route,” he suggested. “There’s a stretch of land that may very well contain farms. It would likely yield supplies—food, tools, maybe even some spare parts.”

Abraham grunted in agreement. “I don’t mind the scenic route. It’s quieter, but we’ve gotta stay sharp. Don’t know what’s lurking out there.”

Eugene nodded, clearly pleased that they were taking his suggestion seriously. “Indeed. Discretion, caution, and an eye toward efficiency will serve us well. The area appears to have potential for providing both sustenance and other necessary resources.”

Rick tilted his head, considering the idea. “Could be our best bet. We’ll need to keep our eyes open.”

Beth stood back, her hand briefly touching the gauze wrapped around her head, the bullet graze still throbbed occasionally. She felt Daryl’s presence beside her, even without him saying a word, his quiet support was always there even in the absence of conversation.

Maggie, ever observant, noticed the way Beth touched her bandage. She approached her sister with concern in her eyes. “We should change that gauze,” she said gently, her tone warm but firm.

Beth nodded, the faintest sigh escaping her lips. “Yeah, probably a good idea.”

Without a word, Maggie pulled out the medical supplies from her pack and sat down beside Beth, motioning for her to sit down so she could tend to the wound. As she worked, Beth relaxed, letting her sister’s careful hands do the work.

Daryl lingered for a moment longer than necessary, watching as Maggie worked. Something about Beth sitting there, looking so vulnerable, made his chest tighten. He cleared his throat and shook off the feeling. “I’m gonna take a look in th’woods, see if I can find somethin.” Daryl muttered, adjusting his crossbow. His eyes met Rick’s, and he gave a small nod, indicating he’d be heading out.

Beth looked up at him, her voice gentle and laced with concern. “Be careful.”

Daryl paused for a moment, his lips barely curving into a half-smile. “I will,” he replied, his voice soft. There was something different in the way he said it— it was a promise, an unspoken understanding. The moment lingered, and for a second, neither of them moved.

Beth offered him a small smile, one that belonged to the quiet space they had carved out for themselves and Daryl turned and disappeared into the woods without another word, leaving Beth with a knot in her chest. She knew he was capable, knew he could take care of himself, but the small voice inside her couldn’t help but worry.

“You doing okay?” Maggie asked after a beat, her voice quieter than usual.

Beth smiled, the pain from her head injury dulling in comparison to the warmth of her sister’s concern. “Yeah, just a little sore,” she said. The truth was, she felt stronger than she had in a while. “It’s better than before.”

Maggie smiled back, but there was something in her eyes that Beth couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t concern, it was something deeper than that. She almost looked...burdened. As she applied the fresh gauze, Beth found herself watching her sister more closely. “Maggie,” Beth started, her voice soft, “Are you doing okay?”

Maggie paused, looking down for a moment, almost as if she were considering something, and then nodded, “I’m fine,” though her expression remained tight. “I’m just glad you’re here,” Maggie said, but there was something more, something she was still holding onto, as if there was a weight she wasn’t ready to share yet.

Beth nodded slowly, watching her sister. She could sense that something had shifted between them, and while she wanted to know what it was, she didn’t push, not yet. And so, her gaze returned to the trees.

Carol, who had been standing off to the side, couldn’t resist adding her own comment. “You’re looking a little worried there, Beth,” she teased, walking over. “Something on your mind?”

Beth’s cheeks flushed slightly, though she quickly regained her composure. “I’m not worried,” she said, though her gaze flickered between Carol and where Daryl had disappeared. “Okay, maybe a little, but he knows what he’s doing.”

Carol chuckled lightly. “You two are too obvious,” she teased, and just as she finished speaking, the sound of rustling branches reached their ears, and Daryl emerged from the woods, a small, skinny rabbit hanging from his hand by its feet. 

“Not much, but it’ll do,” Daryl said gruffly as he rejoined the group, handing the rabbit to Glenn.

Beth’s eyes stayed on Daryl as he approached, the weight in her chest finally easing the moment she saw him. He was back, he was fine, she didn’t need him to say a word because his presence alone was enough.

Carol raised an eyebrow and smiled knowingly. “See? Nothing to worry about.”

Daryl’s eyes flicked to Beth briefly as he passed, and in that shared glance, there was unspoken reassurance between them. Relief washed over her and she couldn’t help but smile a little, the tension in her shoulders releasing. For that brief moment, everything felt as it should.

Rick’s voice broke the moment, cutting through the quiet with his usual authority. “Alright, everyone,” he called, scanning the group. “We’re gonna head out.”

Maggie stood first, offering her hand down to Beth. “Come on,” she said, her voice soft and encouraging. “Let's get moving.”

Beth nodded, taking Maggie’s hand, and hefting herself to her feet. 

Rick walked ahead, map in hand and eyes drawn down to it. “We’ll be checking a few farms along the way, so keep your eyes peeled.” his voice cut through the lull. “Let’s keep our pace steady. We’ll need to make it to the next stop before night.”

It took about thirty minutes for the group to reach their first stop. The small produce farm stood nestled among the rolling hills, the air rich with the scent of fresh earth and greenery. The faded, weathered sign at the entrance marked it as a place that once held life, a reminder of the world before the fall. Now, it was a place of quiet potential, a momentary pause in the endless uncertainty that had become their lives.

Rick motioned for the group to stop at the gate. “Quick sweep,” he said, his voice steady. “We meet back here in thirty minutes, no exceptions. Stay alert, if you run into any problems, whistle.” The group nodded, quickly breaking off into smaller teams. 

Beth felt the familiar weight of her pack shift on her shoulders as they moved toward the rows of plants and small, weathered outbuildings. The silence between the group members was comfortable, each of them falling into their rhythm. They’d done this many times before, each sweep felt like a routine, even in a world that had long forgotten normal.

Maggie glanced over at Beth, her expression soft but focused. “Let’s see what we can find,” she said, her voice calm but purposeful. “Don’t wander far.”

Beth nodded, glancing over at Glenn, who had already started down one of the rows of vegetables that was mostly overgrown weeds now. The farm was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of leaves in the light breeze. The crops that remained were sparse, but there was something grounding about the sight—something familiar about the rows of tomatoes, beans, and squash, despite the neglect. As they walked through the garden, Beth paused at a small wooden planter. The planter, though weathered by time, still stood strong, its edges rough but sturdy. What caught her attention were the words carefully carved along the top slats of the wood: “A garden always gives back more than it receives.” She ran her fingers along the letters, the simplicity of the words striking her in a way she hadn’t expected. Despite everything, despite the loss and the constant struggle, there was something in those words that reminded her of resilience. It was a small, quiet promise that even in the most broken places, something could still grow, something could still give back. Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft rustling from nearby. She turned and saw Noah, his eyes scanning the field as he moved to check the surrounding areas. He gave her a quick wave, and without hesitation, Beth walked over to join him. “Hey, Noah,” she greeted with a smile, her tone warm. “How’s it going?”

Noah grinned, looking down at his bag before meeting her eyes. “Hey, not bad...just keeping my eyes open for anything useful.” His expression shifted briefly to something more thoughtful. “You?”

Beth shrugged slightly, her fingers still grazing the planter. “I was just admiring this,” she said, gesturing to the inscription. “The words... they kind of speak for themselves, don’t they?”

Noah glanced at the planter, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I think we could all use a little more of that. Something that gives back, you know?”

Beth nodded, her smile softening. “Exactly.”

As the two of them walked through the farm, picking up whatever they could along the way that still looked edible, Noah paused for a moment as he adjusted the bag. Beth noticed how carefully he shifted his weight, his movement a little slower.

“How’s your leg doing?” she asked, her voice gentle and her eyes full of concern.

Noah paused, looking down at his leg for a moment before shrugging. “It’s not great, but it’s better than before. I’m managing. I’m just happy I can keep up, I don’t want to slow the group down.”

Beth frowned slightly, her heart tugging at the thought of him pushing himself. She knew how important it was for him to feel like he belonged, like he was a part of this group. “You’re not slowing anyone down, Noah,” Beth said softly, her voice full of sincerity. “We’re all in this together, we make it through as a group.”

Noah met her eyes, the gratitude clear in his expression. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Thanks, Beth.”

Beth smiled warmly, offering him a reassuring glance before she slowed her pace to match his. The two of them continued to move through the garden, gathering what they could. Some dried beans, and a handful of fruit that hadn’t yet spoiled. It wasn’t much, but it was something. As they finished, they looked around the farm one last time, making sure there was nothing they’d missed.

“Think that’s all we’re going to find?” Noah asked, glancing at Beth.

Beth nodded, lifting her bag over her shoulder. “Yeah, I think so. Let’s head back to the gate.”

They turned and started toward the front of the farm, where Rick and the others would be meeting. As they walked, Beth couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of gratitude for the small victories. A little food, a small moment of peace, and the quiet company of a friend.

When they reached the gate, the group had already gathered, ready to move on. Rick looked up as they approached, his eyes scanning the area before settling on them. “Anything good?” Rick asked.

“Some fruit and dried beans,” Noah answered, handing over his pack for Glenn to inspect. “Not much, but it’ll help.”

Rick nodded in approval. “Alright, let’s get moving. We’ve still got some ground to cover.”

As the group prepared to move, Beth’s gaze briefly met Maggie's. Her sister’s concerned glance didn’t go unnoticed, but Beth simply offered her a small smile and a nod, silently reassuring her that she was fine. Maggie’s expression softened, a quiet understanding passing between them before Beth turned away, moving toward the rest of the group.

Daryl was standing near the edge, his eyes scanning the surroundings. When he saw her approach, his gaze softened, just for a moment, as he gave her a subtle nod of acknowledgment.

Without another word, they fell into step beside each other.

____________________________________________________

They found shelter in what used to be a roadside mechanic’s shop just as the light started to fade. Half the roof was gone but it had solid concrete walls and enough room for the group to rest without being on top of each other.

Beth sat near the back wall on an old tire, her hands wrapped around a lukewarm bottle of water. Daryl stood a few feet away, stringing up a bit of tarp against a gap in the ceiling. She watched the flex of his forearms, the way the veins in his hands stood out as he tied a knot. She didn’t mean to stare, but she didn’t stop either.

Daryl finished the knot, dropped down beside her on the tire pile, and offered her a piece of jerky from his pocket. She took it with a nod.

They sat like that — close but not quite touching — chewing in silence.

Beth glanced at him sideways. “Did you ever think we’d still be alive right now? The prison…the road…Grady…even now, we just keep going.”

Daryl didn’t answer right away, and then: “Ain’t sure it’s living, but it ain’t dead.”

Beth looked down at her hands. “You think that’s enough?”

He shrugged. “Some days. Depends who I’m breathin’ next to.”

She looked at him then, lips quirking just slightly. “That supposed to be a compliment?””

Daryl didn’t say anything at first. Then, after a beat, he murmured, “Feels like somethin’s wakin’ up again when you’re around. Like I forgot how to want somethin’ until…y’know.”

“Careful.” Beth said, leaning in just a little, her voice lowering. “You go around saying stuff like that, I might kiss you again.”

He rolled his eyes, but she caught the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before he turned away. “I just might let you.”


Beth’s laugh was quiet, her cheeks pink. “Guess we’ll see, Dixon.”

That night the group had divided into little corners — Sasha curled up against a wall, Maggie and Glenn asleep under a dirty blanket, and Rick by the door with Michonne next to him.

Beth sat beside Daryl again. They were wrapped in a threadbare tarp, sharing what little warmth there was.

The wind howled through cracks in the concrete, causing Beth to shiver and without a word, Daryl wrapped his arm around her.

She let her head fall against his chest, her heartbeat fast, but not from fear. Her fingers came to rest against him, just above his heart. “You always run hot,” she murmured.

He gave a faint smirk. “You sayin’ I’m sweaty?”

“I’m saying I don’t mind.” She tilted her head slightly, eyes meeting his.

And then slowly, deliberately, they kissed again.

Longer this time, warmer.

Daryl pulled back just enough to search her face. “Y’sure?”

Beth nodded. “I trust you.”

The words landed heavy and Daryl didn’t say anything back — he just kissed her again, his hand moving to cradle the back of her head as if she might disappear if he didn’t hold her there. Their bodies pressed closer, heat building in soft touches. Her hand was at the base of his throat, and his fingers grazed her ribs through the fabric of her shirt.

It was the start of something.

Not rushed, not desperate.

Just themselves , unguarded.

When they finally separated, the world outside seemed so far away. Everything faded, leaving only the soft rhythm of their breathing and the quiet warmth between them. Daryl's hand lingered at the back of her head for a moment longer, as if he needed to make sure she was still there, still close to him.

Beth’s fingers traced the fabric of his shirt, the feel of his body grounding her. She let out a quiet sigh, her head tilting to rest against his chest where the quiet, steady beat of his heart was a soothing lullaby against her ear.

Daryl’s arm wrapped around her once more, pulling her in just a little tighter. No words passed between them now, none were needed. She let herself settle, fully at ease. The cold wind still howled outside, but here, in his arms, she only felt warmth.

Chapter 13

Notes:

Yoooo what's this? Another chapter so soon?

Well today is officially my birthday so I thought I'd celebrate it by posting the next one a little early, I hope you all enjoy!

The sun hung like a punishment above them.

It bleached the sky, turned sweat to salt, and every breath into something sharp and dry. The group had been walking for what felt like hours—barely speaking, barely blinking. The water was nearly gone and the food had run out two days ago. The few bottles they’d managed to scrounge from a car had been rationed with silent glances and shaking hands.

Beth walked near the back of the group, Judith clutched tightly against her chest, swaddled in a sun-bleached shirt and Beth’s own aching arms. The baby’s cheeks were flushed with the heat, her breathing soft but steady. “Shh, it’s okay,” Beth murmured, voice rough from dehydration. “I got you. We’re gonna find shade soon, just hold on.”

The roadside was littered with cars, long abandoned, their doors yawning open like broken mouths. No shelter, no water. Just heat, and the slow shuffle of boots.

Up ahead, Rick suddenly stopped walking.

Beth saw him look back, jaw tense, then she heard it too—the low groan of walkers dragging behind them, following like decaying shadows, the same group they’d been avoiding for hours. They didn’t have the strength to fight, not really. But the wind was shifting, and cover was running out.

Rick turned to the group. “We’ll push them off the embankment,” he said. “Quiet and controlled. We do this fast, no noise.” He turned toward Beth, eyes locking on Judith. “You got her?”

Beth nodded. “Always.”

Rick turned, motioned for Glenn, Michonne, Sasha, Maggie, and the others. Daryl lingered for just a moment, eyes flitting to Beth and Judith. She gave him a faint nod, and that was enough.

They turned toward the walkers.

Beth stepped back behind the broken frame of a long-dead box truck, clutching Judith close and rocking gently. Her arms were trembling from the weight—of the child, of the heat, of everything—but she didn’t loosen her grip for a second.

The sounds came next.

Thwacks. Grunts. The wet crunch of walker skulls caving in.

Beth kept her eyes closed, whispering a song under her breath. Not singing it—just breathing it out. “Weepin’ willow, it’s too late now…” Then she heard something shift.

A voice.

Sasha.

Her voice rose in rage, grunts of effort behind it, the rhythm of her blows erratic and harsh. Beth peeked out just enough to see her—Sasha was swinging wild, stabbing one walker, then another, then another, fury spilling out of her like a dam had broken. “Back off!” she shouted, slamming one down.

“Sasha!” Michonne stepped in, moving fast and blocking Sasha’s next swing with her katana.

“Get off me!” Sasha snapped.

“You’re wasting energy. You’re wasting yourself,” Michonne said flatly, not backing down.

Sasha was panting, her knuckles scraped and trembling. “I need to do something!”

“This isn’t it,” Michonne said.

Beth flinched as another walker hit the ground with a sickening thud. Judith shifted slightly in her arms but didn’t cry.

Sasha stepped back at last, shoulders slumped, eyes glassy. Grief, rage, exhaustion—they were all melting together in the same face.

Eventually, the sounds stopped. The walkers were down and the threat was gone—for now.

Beth exhaled, her voice catching as she whispered to the sleeping baby: “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

______________________________________________________

The road had turned up nothing.

Cars were gutted shells, gas tanks bone dry, and glove compartments filled with little more than moldy receipts and faded fast food wrappers. The group hadn’t eaten in almost two days, and the weight of it hung heavy in the air. Beth could feel it pressing on everyone, a gnawing frustration behind the eyes, an invisible ache in the bones.

Rick had finally waved them to a halt near a cluster of skeletal trees lining the shoulder of the road. “See what you can find in the woods,” he’d said to Daryl. “You know the signs better than any of us.”

Daryl didn’t answer, he just looked over his shoulder, gaze on Beth.

She met his eyes and gave a nod before he could say anything. There was no discussion, just a glance passed between them, and that was enough. They moved off the road together without a word.

The trees swallowed them in shadow and quiet. Leaves crackled underfoot as they walked side by side, their steps almost in rhythm. It wasn’t awkward—not anymore. It hadn’t been since the night by the fire, since that kiss. They hadn’t spoken about it again, they didn’t need to, the space between them said enough.

Daryl paused near a tree, crouching low to study the ground. 

Beth hovered nearby, scanning the brush even though she knew her tracking skills were nothing like his. “Anything?” she asked quietly.


He was quiet for a moment, before a frustrated sigh left his nose. “Nothin.” he grunted. “Tracks’re days old, anythin that passes through here ain’t stayin.”

She nodded, adjusting the strap of her empty bag. “Figures.” A squirrel scrambled up a tree trunk nearby, too quick to catch even if they were desperate. Beth watched it disappear into the branches, then sighed. “Even the squirrels know better than to stick around us.”

Daryl stood with a grunt, brushing off his knees. “Don’t blame ’em.”

They kept walking, ducking under limbs, and pushing past dried brush that clung to their clothes. A gust of wind stirred the trees and brought with it the distant stink of decay.

Beth winced as her stomach let out a loud growl. She tried to ignore it, but Daryl glanced sideways.

“Shouldn’t’ve come,” he muttered. “Ain’t nothin’ out here.”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly.

“Didn’t say you weren’t.”

“Then why say anything?”

He stopped walking, and turned to look at her. “You’re still healin’. You push too hard, you’ll fall apart.”

She frowned. “I’m not made of glass, Daryl.”

His voice softened, just a little. “Didn’t say you were. Just—don’t gotta be out here proving somethin’, not to me.”

Beth looked down at her boots, then back up at him. “I’m not. I just…sitting around makes it worse. The waiting, the not knowing.”

They stood there a beat longer than they needed to, then Daryl glanced at the sky. “Sun’s goin’ down. We should head back.”

Beth nodded. “Yeah.”

They turned, retracing their steps in silence. Halfway back, Beth finally spoke, voice quieter than before. “We didn’t find anything.”

“Nope.”

“But I don’t regret coming.”

Daryl slowed his pace just enough that they were side by side again. “Me neither.” He didn’t say anything else, but his hand brushed hers once, then again, and on the third pass Beth slipped her fingers between his.

They walked the last stretch of woods hand-in-hand, silent except for the sound of their shared steps. The ache of hunger still lingered, and the road ahead was still just as long and uncertain—but something about the warmth between them made the weight of it all feel just a little lighter.

Chapter 14

Notes:

Hi all! Hope you're all doing well and you enjoy this week's chapter. I've decided to revamp my upload schedule a bit and decided we're going to have a THANK GOD IT'S FRIDAY! type of schedule where every Friday I'll release a new chapter! ( or two, if we're lucky! )

Hope you all enjoy! <3

The rest of the group had set up a rough rest spot just off the road: a few stones for seats and their bags slung on branches. Rick knelt, overlooking the map, his face drawn and hollow. Maggie looked up first as they stepped into view.

Rick looked up, the faintest flash of hope crossing his face before it dropped away again. “Anything?”

Daryl gave a short shake of his head. “Nothin’.”

Beth opened her mouth to say something, but the sound hit first.

A sharp, guttural bark.

The group froze.

From the edge of the woods, a pack of feral dogs emerged — lean, mangy things, their ribs protruding through taut flesh like knives. Some limped and one’s ear hung in tatters. They weren’t barking now, just growling, low and broken, eyes locked on the scent of food—or blood.

Carl instinctively clutched Judith tighter. She let out a soft, uneasy sound, small and confused.

Daryl stepped forward, planting himself firmly between the dogs and the rest of them. One hand held his crossbow, the other hovered protectively in front of Beth without even thinking.

Rick rose slowly, eyes on the lead dog.

“They’re starving,” Abraham muttered. “Ain’t right in the head anymore.”

“Neither are we,” Rosita said under her breath.

The dogs crept closer, noses twitching.

Then one lunged.

The gunshot cracked like thunder.

Before anyone had time to react, Rick was already firing again, calm, precise, and efficient. Daryl took one down just as it broke off from the flank. The rest scattered—except the ones too slow or too far gone. The last one whined as it fell, a pitiful sound that went straight to the bone.

Silence stretched thin in the aftermath.

Beth’s hand had found Daryl’s vest during the noise, knuckles white in the fabric, she didn’t even remember reaching for him. She stared at the crumpled bodies, she didn’t cry, but something in her chest twisted. “They were just hungry,” she murmured.

Daryl looked at her gently. “Ain’t no choice. It was us or them.”

Rick reloaded in silence. “We can’t afford to be picky, not anymore.”

No one moved.

Then Sasha stepped forward, quiet and almost mechanical in her movements, dragging the bodies toward the paltry fire pit at the center of their camp. Her face didn’t change, and her eyes didn’t blink.

Beth turned away as the bodies hit the ground with dull, wet thuds. The stink was already curling into the air.

Daryl rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll handle it,” he said softly. “You don’t need to watch.”

Beth shook her head, lips trembling but steady. “I need to see it.”

“You don’t,” he said, softer now. “Ain’t nothin’ good in it.”

“I need to be stronger.”

Before Daryl could argue, Maggie stepped up beside her. She didn’t say anything at first, just looped an arm around her little sister’s shoulders and pulled her in close. “You already are,” she said.

They stood like that as Sasha finished her task and lit the fire, flames roared up with a hungry hiss. Nobody said grace, nobody said anything. When the meat was cooked, it was passed around without comment. Meat was meat, and it was that or nothing.

Beth chewed in silence. She didn’t flinch, she didn’t cry, she just kept her eyes on the fire. When her portion was finished, she let her hands fall into her lap. Beth didn’t regret surviving, but she hated the world that kept asking her to prove she deserved to.

______________________________________________________

The fire had burned down to lazy embers, glowing low and red in the pit. Most of the group had already turned in, wrapped in blankets or huddled close for warmth, leaving only the hum of crickets and the occasional snap of wood as company.

Beth sat on her bedroll, legs crossed beneath her blanket, poking a twig at the fire. She glanced up when Daryl wandered back from his perimeter check, arms loose at his sides, eyes scanning instinctively before they found her. He dropped down beside her with a grunt, nudging her leg lightly with his knee. “You’re still up.”

“So are you,” she shot back, a little smile tugging at her lips. “You keepin’ watch or lookin’ for company?”

“Don’t need to choose,” he said. “Got both.”

Beth laughed, the sound soft and breathy in the night air. “That was almost smooth.”

He glanced at her, eyes flickering with amusement. “Don’t get used to it.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Beth broke the silence first. “You ever think about what it’d be like if none of this ever happened?”

Daryl didn’t answer right away. He reached for a twig and tossed it into the coals. “Sometimes. Don’t get far with it, though. That world’s gone.”

Beth turned her head to look at him. Firelight kissed his jawline, highlighting every shadow in his face. “I think about it sometimes. Who we’d be, where we’d be, if we’d ever even met.”

Daryl’s eyes flicked to hers, and he shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. World’s weird, maybe I’d’ve fixed your flat tire outside a diner.”

Beth huffed a soft laugh. “And then refused to talk to me the whole time.”

“Wouldn’t’ve had to,” Daryl said, smirking faintly. “You’d be the one talkin’ my ear off.”

She nudged his arm. “You like when I talk.”

He didn’t deny it.

Beth leaned toward him, just enough that her hair brushed his arm. “You know, if you keep hoverin’ like this, people are gonna talk.”

“They already are,” Daryl muttered.

Beth grinned. “And what exactly are they sayin’?”

Daryl shrugged one shoulder. “Somethin’ about how you’re slummin’ it with a redneck.”

She scoffed. “Slummin’? Nah, maybe I just like my men broody, and allergic to compliments."

That made his ears go red. “Ain’t true.”

“Oh, it’s true,” she teased, nudging his thigh with hers. “You blush more than I do.”

“I don’t blush.”

“You’re blushing right now. ”

He turned his face away, muttering something unintelligible and Beth leaned closer, eyes twinkling. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “It’s cute.”

“You callin’ me cute?” he asked, mock offended.

“I mean…you’re rugged, dangerous, and very serious.” She was fighting a smirk. “But also a little cute.”

Daryl huffed. “You’re trouble.”

“And you like it.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he reached out, catching a loose strand of hair and tucking it behind her ear with a gentle hand. The moment stretched, warm and slow, his thumb lingered against her cheek.

“You’re always starin’ at me like that,” she murmured.

“Maybe I like what I see.”

Beth’s breath caught in her throat. “Then maybe you should do somethin’ about it.”

Daryl didn’t hesitate. His lips found hers in a kiss that was firm, sweet, a little clumsy but all heart. She melted into it, arms sliding around his neck as he tugged her gently into his lap, her knees straddling him beneath the blanket they now shared.

His hands curled at her waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of her shirt like he wasn’t sure whether to pull her closer or memorize the moment first.

“You keep kissin’ me like that,” she whispered against his mouth, “and I’m not gonna want to stop.”

His voice dropped to a low, teasing growl. “Ain’t tryin’ to stop.”

Beth’s laugh was breathy. “Guess we better make it count then.”

Daryl’s lips trailed to her neck, breath hot against her skin, and her fingers tangled in his hair as she tilted her head to give him more. The blanket slipped down her shoulders as his hand slid beneath it.

And then, a branch cracked loudly.

“Oh…uh, should I vacate?”

They both jerked apart like startled cats.

Eugene was standing six feet away, wearing an expression somewhere between admiration and existential crisis.

Daryl muttered, “Jesus Christ,” and dragged a hand down his face.

Beth pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to bury her face in Daryl’s neck or disappear into the dirt.

Eugene, undeterred, held up a hand. “I assure you, I did not witness anything anatomically revealing. Not even borderline indecent. At worst, I’d classify it as PG-13 tenderness.”

Beth burst into laughter, she couldn’t help it.

“Was just lookin’ for a tree to empty my bladder,” Eugene continued, waving vaguely at the dark. “But I will re-calibrate and remove myself from the vicinity of…burgeoning emotional entanglement. Proceed.” He walked off muttering to himself about the dangers of interrupting “pre-coital bonding in post-apocalyptic environments.”

Beth leaned into Daryl’s shoulder, laughing softly against him. “Only Eugene,” she said.

Daryl exhaled through his nose — somewhere between amused and mortified. “He’s lucky I didn’t throw somethin’ at him.”

Beth tilted her face up to his. “Still want to throw something at me ?”

“No,” he said, voice low, eyes fixed on her. “Just wanna stay right here.”

She touched his chest, right where his heart was. “Then stay.”

Chapter 15

The day was particularly hot.

Not the kind of oppressive Southern heat they’d come to expect — but the kind that clung to your throat and made your body feel heavier than it was. Their water was nearly gone, as was the remaining meat from the dogs.

Beth walked beside Daryl near the rear of the group, his hand brushed hers every few steps. 

The road curved in front of them, with Maggie, Sasha, and Glenn scouting slightly up ahead where they spotted it first — a plastic jug of water surrounded by several smaller water bottles, sitting in the middle of the road, sun glinting off its surface like a beacon.

A white sheet of paper was taped to the front. In thick black marker, it read:

“FROM A FRIEND.”

The group stopped.

“Don’t touch it,” Rick said sharply, eyes narrowing.


They all stared at the jug like it might explode.

“Could be poison,” Abraham muttered.

“Could be a trap,” Rosita added.

“Could be a blessing,” said Gabriel, stepping forward slowly.

Beth stared at the jug, her lips were dry and her throat burned.

Beside her, Daryl’s jaw tightened. He took a long look at the woods on either side of the road, then at the treeline behind them.

Rick moved slowly, crouching by the jug. He picked up a stick and nudged the water. The plastic shifted and the water inside sloshed. No movement from the trees, no noise. “I say we keep moving,” he muttered, standing.

“But we don’t have any more water,” Glenn said.

“Then we find some,” Rick said. “Not this.”

Beth’s gaze lingered on the word “friend” and her gut twisted. She wasn’t sure if it was hope…or paranoia in disguise.

Eugene, however, started walking towards it with the confident strut of a man on a mission.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Rosita said sharply. “Eugene—”

He grabbed the nearest jug and unscrewed the cap with dramatic flair. “Quality assurance,” Eugene declared, lifting it toward his mouth—

THWACK.

The jug flew out of his hands, hitting the asphalt and splashing water everywhere.

Abraham lowered his hand from where he’d just slapped it out of Eugene’s grasp, his expression thunderous. “Are you outta your damn mind?”

Eugene blinked, stunned. “I was attempting to demonstrate scientific initiative in a sip sized investiga—”

Abraham shoved past him. “You were attempting to drink random road water, dumbass! Could be poison, could be piss, could be poisoned piss. It don’t matter.”

Glenn rubbed his temple, while Tara choked down a laugh. Beth managed to crack a faint smile.

“We don’t touch it,” Rick said firmly. “Not unless we know who left it.”

“But we’re dying out here,” Gabriel said, his voice hoarse.

No one argued.

The jugs just sat there, glistening in the sun, a cruel mirage.

Then came a clap of thunder.

It was so loud and sudden, Eugene yelped audibly.

Another boom, then the sky cracked wide open.

Rain.

Cold, heavy, cleansing.

The group stood in stunned silence as it poured down. It soaked their clothes, their hair, and the ground. After days of heat and hunger, it felt like heaven.

Gabriel dropped to his knees in the middle of the road, hands raised, rain washing the dust from his skin. His lips moved in prayer, choked with sobs.

Carl turned his hat over Judith’s head, shielding her from the downpour, eyes squinting against the downpour but smiling faintly. Judith giggled.

Glen whooped and Maggie smiled, really smiled, for the first time in days.

Eugene looked mildly betrayed that the universe had rendered his ‘water guinea pig’ gesture unnecessary.


Abraham grinned as he walked over to Eugene and clapped him on the back hard. “Congratulations, jackass. You live another day.”


“I’ll take it.” Eugene muttered in response, soaked and blinking.

Sasha stood a few feet away, face tilted up, eyes vacant. The rain hit her like it hit the rest of them—but she didn’t react.

Beth tilted her face upward, letting it run down her cheeks.

And Daryl, standing silently nearby, watched her for a long moment before slowly lowering his crossbow and letting the rain soak him too.

No one drank the water on the road.

They didn’t need it anymore.

For now, the sky had taken pity

______________________

They found the barn just before the worst of the storm hit, tucked off a forgotten back road half-swallowed by woods and overgrowth. The structure was leaning but solid, its rusted hinges groaning when Glenn and Rick forced the doors open. It smelled like mildew and hay, but it was dry and that was all they needed.

The group fanned out automatically to sweep the space. Daryl took the perimeter, Rick went left, and Beth drifted toward the back with the others, where the shadows pooled the deepest.

She was the one who found it.

In the farthest corner stall, slumped in on itself like a forgotten scarecrow, was what remained of a woman. The walker looked starved, its limbs brittle, movement barely a twitch, and its blonde hair hung in filthy clumps. The wrists were sliced, jagged and dark. A rusted can lid still lay beneath the hay. Beth’s breath caught—not from fear, but from recognition not of the woman, but of the pain.

Beth didn’t call for anyone. She stepped inside the stall slowly, heart pounding, and raised her knife. The walker didn’t react much, letting out a lazy groan with a weak loll of its head. Beth’s fingers trembled around the hilt, not from hesitation—but from the terrible sadness of it. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. The knife slid in clean between the eye sockets. The body dropped with a soft thud, stirring dust and old straw. Beth knelt there a moment longer, breathing hard through her nose. When she rose, she turned and nearly bumped into Maggie.

Her sister stood in the doorway, face pale, lips pressed tight.

Beth straightened, wiping the blade against her jeans. She didn’t speak.

Maggie reached out without a word and laid a hand on Beth’s arm—light, and anchoring. The kind of touch that said I see you. That said, I know.

Beth finally nodded, blinking fast, and walked past her with squared shoulders.

By the time the rest of the group had settled and the rain had grown relentless. It slapped the tin roof of the barn in loud, angry bursts, drowning out all other noise. Wind screamed through the cracks in the wooden slats, and the trees outside groaned under its weight. Inside, the barn now smelled like wet hay, old wood, and fatigue.

Beth had taken her place near the back wall. Daryl had already claimed the space and made room for her at his side without asking. She sat with her knees drawn up, arms around them. She was damp to the bone even after peeling off her soaked jacket, her hair still sticking to her neck.

Daryl sat with his back to the barn wall, his crossbow propped beside him. His arm was around her, not tightly, but enough to shield her from the worst of the chill.

No one looked twice at it anymore. If anything, in a world unraveling, their closeness was a quiet sort of anchor.

“You warm enough?” Daryl mumbled, voice low and rough from days without much speech.

Beth nodded against his shoulder. “M’fine, just tired.”

Behind them, the others were huddled closer to a small fire they had made earlier. Rick and Michonne sat with Glenn, Maggie, and Abraham, their voices low and tense. Carol sat off to the side, her gaze distant, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Everyone looked like they were unraveling—just slowly enough to still pretend they weren’t.

“They’re losin’ it,” Daryl grunted, shifting to pull her a little closer, the side of his face brushing her damp hair.

Beth looked toward the lantern glow and nodded slowly. “It’s been a long time since anything felt like hope.” She hugged her knees a little tighter. She wasn’t crying, but her voice had that soft edge again—the one she used when she was trying real hard not to. “They’re talkin’ about whether there’s even anything better out there,” she said. “If maybe this is just it now. The fighting, the walkin’, the waitin’.”

“And you?” he asked.

Beth took a breath. “I don’t know, I want to believe there’s somethin’. A place, a reason. I think…if I stop believin’ that, I’ll disappear.”

Daryl didn’t answer. The wind howled outside, shaking the barn doors. Lightning flashed once, illuminating the pale, hollow faces of the others in a brief, ghostly burst.

Beth reached over and picked at a piece of hay on the floor. “We were always lookin’ for a better place. Now…I think the place doesn’t matter so much, it’s the people that do.”

Daryl’s jaw worked, but he didn’t speak. She didn’t press him.

After another long moment, she shifted to the side a bit, just enough to look at him. “You ever think about just runnin’? Alone?”

He didn’t answer immediately. “Used to.”

“Why don’t you anymore?”

He looked at her, and when his voice came, it was barely a breath. “Cause I ain’t alone no more.”

Beth’s heart gave a thump behind her ribs. She didn’t speak—she just nodded and rested her head against him again, eyes finally feeling heavy.

From where the others sat, Rick’s voice cut through the gloom to reach them, measured and certain, but heavy with the weight of the world. “We do what we need to do, and then we get to live,” he said. “No matter what comes our way, I know we’ll be okay, because this is how we survive.”

Rick’s voice began to grow fuzzy as Beth finally closed her eyes, slipping off with the last of his speech. “We are the walking dead.”

Outside, the storm raged on. 

Inside, the barn held firm.

And for a night, that was enough.

Chapter 16

The wind howled like it was alive.

It clawed through the trees outside, bending them with moaning creaks, rattling loose branches across the tin roof of the barn. Inside, everything echoed — the groans of aged wood, the clinks of chain against the door latch, the snap and roll of thunder just a few miles away.

Daryl paced like a caged animal, eyes flickering to the door every time it shifted on its hinges. The chain holding it closed shuddered, stretched with every new gust. He didn’t say anything, he j ust kept walking, boots scuffing along dirt and splinters. One hand rested near his crossbow slung over his shoulder, the other clenched at his side.

Every now and then, he cast a glance toward the sleeping group—Maggie, curled with her back to a hay bale, Glenn with her. Sasha and Noah laid out flat, both too exhausted to keep watch. Eugene, Rosita and Abraham were breathing slow. Rick was against the far wall, still but awake.

Beth had been dozing light, wrapped in a piece of worn tarp that smelled faintly of Daryl and hay. The howling wind crept into her dreams, and she woke just as the doors slammed hard enough to rattle the walls.

Daryl was already lunging for the chain before anyone else stirred.

The storm had called in the walkers, slow and relentless, driven by the sound. The door buckled again under the pressure. The dead were outside now, clawing at the seams, pushing with the weight of hunger. 

Beth was on her feet before she could even think . “Daryl—!” she called, stumbling toward him.

He didn’t respond, he just threw himself against the door, shoulder to the wood, gritting his teeth as the chain shuddered against the latch, boots slipping in the dirt. 

Beth didn’t hesitate. She slammed her body beside his, catching his eye for the briefest moment as her hands locked on the frame. Wind screamed through the cracks, icy and wet, the storm right on top of them now , but despite it she could hear them—growling, and gnashing with scrabbling fingers. “I got you!” she shouted, her voice cracking. 

His jaw ticked, but his weight shifted subtly toward her. The trust was there—in the press of his shoulder against hers, in the set of his stance. The storm outside howled and the dead clawed and slammed. But inside, she was his anchor, and he was hers.

Then came Maggie.

Then Glenn.

Then Rick, Noah, Abraham, Sasha, Carl—one after the other, stumbling from sleep into motion, each of them throwing themselves into the door, bracing against the tide of wind and death. The building groaned. The world outside snarled and struck again, hands beat the boards, and fingers reached through the cracks. Beth’s heart thundered, her arms straining, body trembling with effort. 

“We hold,” Rick growled.

And they did. 

It took everything they had. But eventually, the snarling gave way to the wind again. The storm began to drift on, and with it, the walkers wandered too—drawn elsewhere, fading into the distance like ghosts. 

The tension broke slowly. One by one, the group stepped back, hands falling away, muscles shaking, and breaths coming ragged.

Beth leaned against the wall and slid down slowly, arms limp and chest heaving. 

Daryl stayed at the door a little longer, watching and listening. Only when he was sure it was over did he finally step away. He turned, eyes scanning the group—but when he saw her, his focus narrowed. 

Beth met his gaze, something raw and quiet settling in her chest. The space between them shrank, even without moving. 

He didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to. She had been the first to reach him, and he would never forget it.


________________________________

The quiet that came next was not the kind that came with peace—but the hollow, eerie quiet that followed a battle. The storm had passed, the howling winds had gone still, and the slamming rain had faded into soft drips from the barn’s rafters.

Inside, the group had collapsed in a loose exhausted sprawl on the hay-covered floor. Rick lay with one arm over Carl, Michonne beside them, her eyes half-closed but alert. Glenn and Maggie curled into each other, Sasha a tight coil in the shadows. Abraham was snoring lightly, and Eugene muttered in his sleep.

Only two remained wide-awake.

Beth sat upright, back against one of the thick wooden beams. She wasn’t shivering anymore, but her fingers still hadn’t stopped twitching in her lap.

Across the barn, Daryl was still in the same place she’d last seen him: back braced against the wall, head tipped forward, silent and unmoving except for the slight rise and fall of his chest. He was watching the barn doors like they might still burst open.

Beth stood quietly, brushing off hay from her pants as she crossed over to him.

“You should be sleepin’,” Daryl murmured, without looking at her. 

“So should you,” she whispered back, easing down beside him. She sat close, her thigh brushing his, but he kept his eyes fixed on the doors.

“I thought it was gonna take us all.”

Daryl didn’t answer right away. His eyes were red-rimmed, jaw tight.

“I thought I was gonna lose you,” she said softly.

At that, his head turned slightly, just enough to look at her out of the corner of his eye. “You scared the hell outta me,” Daryl said finally. His voice was low, tense.

Beth blinked. “Me?”

 

“You heard me.” His voice was not quite raised, but it was edged with something raw. “You ran straight at the doors. At me—what the hell were you thinkin’?”

“I didn’t,” she admitted. “I just saw you—straining like that, the walkers piling against it, and—”

“I had it.” His tone was brittle, defensive.

“You didn’t have it.” Her voice was steady, even though her chest had started to feel tight. “The doors were buckling, what else was I supposed to do?” 

“Stay back!” he hissed. “You’re supposed to stay back and let me handle it.”

Beth’s brows drew in. “I wasn’t gonna sit there and do nothing while you were—”

“You should’ve,” he snapped, then immediately closed his eyes like he regretted the sharpness. His voice was lower, rougher when he spoke again. “You could’ve been crushed, or pulled out, or bit! You coulda died, Beth.”

She touched his arm, brushing her fingers just barely along his sleeve. “So could you.” 

“That’s different,” he muttered. 

“No, it’s not.” 

“It is,” Daryl bit out, finally turning his head to look at her, eyes shadowed and fierce. “You don’t throw yourself at a damn hurricane for me.”


“And why not? You’d do the same for me.”

He dragged a hand through his damp hair. “’Cause I don’t care what happens to me –”

“Well, I do.” Beth bristled. “You think I could handle losing you?”

Daryl didn’t respond, he just dragged a hand over his face and muttered, “Ain’t nothin’ about me worth savin’, Beth. Ain’t nothin’ in this world worth you dyin’ for.”

“Don’t you dare,” Beth cut in. “You don’t get to decide what you’re worth to me, that’s not your call to make.”

He finally looked at her again, and the pain in his face cut deep.

“You think I ran at that door because I’m reckless? I ran because I saw you and I couldn’t not run. The only thing I could think of was you, Daryl, I’m not whole without you.” Beth’s expression softened, the fight draining out of her all at once as she wilted into his side. “I don’t get to choose what’s worth it to you,” she said. “But I choose you, every time, storm or no storm. I’m not sorry I ran to you and I’ll do it again so don’t even try asking me to stop.”

Daryl exhaled shakily, and when she leaned into his side, he let her, pulling his arm free just enough to drape it around her shoulders. Her head fit beneath his chin like it always did. “I just got you back, I can’t lose you - not again.” he murmured.

“You’re not gonna,” she whispered into his shirt. 

“I don’t wanna bury you,” His voice cracked as he whispered. “You’re all I got.”

Beth closed her eyes, pressing in closer until his warmth eased the ache beneath her ribs.”You won’t have to, but don’t let me bury you either.”

The barn was still cold, the floor was still hard, and the air still smelled like damp earth and rot. But Beth breathed easier in his arms, and Daryl breathed a little easier with her in them too. 

They were still here, together.

And that was enough.

 

Chapter 17

Notes:

And yaaaaay! We've reached the point where we have Aaron in the story - things will be picking up from here on folks

The barn was still. No more thunder. No more crashing limbs. Just the soft sound of breathing—some fast, some slow—and the occasional creak of the beams overhead. The storm had passed, but the chill hadn’t left.

Beth sat on a folded blanket near the back wall, her legs curled beneath her and Judith bundled close against her chest. The baby was warm and heavy in her arms, breaths soft and even, a comfort against the rawness left behind by the night. Daryl sat not far off, one knee up, crossbow beside him, his eyes scanning the half-dark space like nothing had changed since the night before. At some point just before dawn, Sasha had slipped out on her own, quiet and restless, like she couldn’t stand being caged in any longer. Maggie had followed not long after, murmuring something about checking on her. No one had tried to stop either of them, Beth only throwing a weary glance Maggie’s way, a quiet reminder for her to be careful. 

Even now, in the silence, no one spoke above a murmur. They were exhausted, but still alert.

Always alert.

The barn doors creaked open.

Rick was the first to stand, hand instinctively going to his revolver.

Sasha stepped in first, rain-dampened and breathless. Maggie followed her, mud-splattered and pale, but upright.

And behind them, came a stranger.

Beth tensed immediately, curling Judith closer to her chest, her fingers pressing protectively into the baby’s back. Daryl shifted, stepping just ahead of her, his body a barrier before she could even react.

The man, young, fit, and wearing a patched-up jacket, held his hands up in plain sight. His eyes were wide, but not frantic. He was calm, and collected.

Rick was already closing the distance, gun out but held low. “Who is he?”

“He says his name’s Aaron.” Maggie answered, voice tight.

“He found us,” Sasha added. “He says he has a…place.”

The barn practically buzzed with unease. Glenn, Abraham, Rosita, Carol—everyone was either standing or reaching for a weapon.

Daryl moved first. He crossed the barn in silence, and stood directly in front of Aaron, glaring into his face with a look that said you’re alive right now because I haven’t decided otherwise. “You armed?” he asked.

Aaron held his hands out wider. “Only with words.”

“Search him,” Rick ordered, and Daryl didn’t wait.

He patted Aaron down efficiently, roughly, jerking open jacket flaps and pulling a small pack from his shoulder. Nothing obvious. No gun. No knife.

“Just a flare,” Daryl muttered, holding up the flare gun before tossing it to the ground behind him.

“That’s for signaling my partner,” Aaron said. “He’s not here, it’s just me.”

Beth rose slowly, not letting go of Judith but coming forward just enough to see better, her eyes darting between Rick and Aaron, her stomach tight.

“He says he has a camp,” Sasha said. “He wants us to go.”

Aaron cleared his throat gently. “Community, actually, it’s called Alexandria. I have pictures, proof it’s safe and organized. I was sent to find people like you, people who could contribute, people who can help make it better, who deserve something better than what's out here.”

No one relaxed.

Michonne’s katana was still unsheathed, Glenn had his gun out at his side, even Carl looked wound tight like a bowstring. Beth shifted Judith and took another half-step forward, now close enough for Daryl to shift slightly in front of her without thinking.

Aaron noticed. His eyes flicked from the baby in Beth’s arms to Daryl’s tense frame, but wisely he said nothing
.

“I know you don’t trust me,” Aaron continued carefully. “But if you are who I think you are…the survivors who’ve lasted this long…you wouldn’t.”

Rick said nothing. His eyes were cold, calculating.

Aaron took a breath. “I’m here to extend an invitation. I’m here because I believe you’re exactly what we need and it’s my job to convince you.”

Silence fell upon the group for a beat, only broken by the creak of the barn roof and Judith’s small, steady breaths.

Then finally, Daryl spoke up, “Then you better start convincing.”

Beth thought he looked so out of place among them. Clean, well-fed, steady-spoken, but not weak. Calm in a way that unnerved Beth more than anything else.

“I understand your skepticism,” Aaron said, looking around at all of them. “But I’ve been watching you. Not in a creepy way—just careful. You keep each other safe, you’re smart, strong, and resourceful. We’ve been searching for people like you.”

Abraham snorted, arms crossed tight over his chest. “People like us don’t just get offered a fresh start. We claw our way through hell and call it Tuesday.”

Aaron smiled gently and turned to Sasha, nodding to his bag. “There are photos inside that were taken recently. Of our walls, our community.”

Sasha opened the flap warily, pulling out a stack of polaroids—grainy but clear enough to make out details. Thick metal walls. solar panels catching the sun. houses with porches and wind chimes, with gardens, and clean streets. Things Beth hadn’t seen in years, things that felt like they belonged to another life.

“This is Alexandria,” Aaron continued. “We’re not perfect, but we’ve survived. We have all the basics - food, water, shelter..we even have a doctor, and electricity thanks to the solar panels.”

Beth leaned slightly forward, drawn in despite herself. Electricity? A doctor?

Aaron continued to speak, his voice steady and gaze fixed on Rick, “You’re a leader. You know the risk of walking out there with nothing but your weapons and prayers. Look at the pictures, let me show you we’re not lying.”

Sasha passed the photos to Michonne, then to Glenn, when Glenn passed them on to her, her fingers shook slightly as she took them. Beth studied each one carefully and her heart started to ache—not in fear, but in longing. White fences, a swing set, ivy crawling up the side of a front porch. It looked…possible. Daryl shifted beside her, close now, his hand brushing hers as she passed one of the photos to him. He glanced at it, then at her, his brow furrowed. He didn’t say it aloud, but she could read it in his eyes: Too good to be true.

Aaron was still speaking. “You’ve got something strong here—loyalty, trust, a will to survive. Alexandria needs that, but I think you need us too, all of you. Together, we’d be—”

He never finished, because Rick moved.

Beth didn’t see the punch coming until it landed—fast and brutal. Aaron’s head snapped sideways, his body folding to the floor in a heap, unconscious before he hit the ground. Beth gasped, arms reflexively pulling Judith tighter against her chest

“Rick!” Michonne shouted, grabbing his arm. “What the hell?!”

“He’s been watching us,” Rick barked. “Tracking us. For who? For what? He could’ve taken those pictures off a dead man.”

“He didn’t look like a liar,” Beth said softly, still staring at Aaron’s motionless form. Her heart thudded fast in her chest, echoing with the memory of the last time someone extended kindness that turned into something worse.

Daryl glanced at her quickly, jaw clenched, then looked back at Rick. “You coulda asked first.”

Rick didn’t flinch. “We can’t take chances.”

Glenn bent down and checked Aaron’s pulse. “He’s alive.”

Rick stood over him, chest heaving. “Good.” He turned to Carl, nodding at him. “Dump his pack, let’s see who this guy really is.”

“Rick—” Michonne started again, frustrated.

Rick turned, scanning the barn, eyes sweeping across their shaken group like he was already gearing up for the next threat. “Everyone else—we need eyes on every side. He’s not alone and they’re coming for us. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but they are.”

The barn had gone still again, but not in the same way as before.

The kind of quiet now wasn’t peace—it was the kind that followed a gunshot, the kind that sat heavy in the air while everyone waited to see what came next.

Aaron still hadn’t stirred.

Rick stood off to the side with Michonne near him, arguing in low, clipped tones. Carl was picking through Aaron’s pack. Glenn and Maggie hovered nearby, watching. Abraham had retreated to the door again, muttering something under his breath to Rosita. Everyone else had fallen into a familiar silence—that wary, coiled stillness that came after surviving too many bad turns.

Beth had stepped back to the edge of the barn, settling Judith again in her lap. She rocked gently, absently, her eyes on the man sprawled on the hay-strewn floor. She didn’t notice Maggie until the footsteps stopped just beside her.

“You mind if I sit?” Maggie asked, voice low.

Beth looked up, blinking like she’d been pulled out of a deep thought. She hesitated for a second, just long enough to be felt, then nodded and scooted aside.

Maggie sat down with a tired exhale, knees drawn up, hands clasped together loosely. For a while, neither of them spoke.

“She okay?” Maggie asked softly, nodding to Judith.

Beth smiled faintly. “Out cold. She always sleeps better after storms.”

Maggie hummed. “Wish I could say the same.”

Beth didn’t laugh, but her smile lingered a little longer this time.

Another pause passed between them.

“I saw how you looked at him,” Maggie said eventually, nodding at Aaron. “After...well, you know.” she idly gestured towards Rick with her chin.

Beth’s shoulders stiffened slightly. “He didn’t do anything threatening, Rick didn’t have to hit him.”

“I agree,” Maggie said, surprising her. “He went too far.”

Beth glanced at her. “Doesn’t seem like you told him that.”

Maggie sighed, staring down at her hands. “He’s spiraling. Maybe we all are a little, I’m trying to pick my battles.”

Beth turned toward her. “Do you trust him?”

Maggie blinked. “Aaron?”

She nodded.

Maggie was quiet a moment, then said, “I don’t know yet. I want to. But every time I think about places with walls and smiling strangers, I think about Woodbury, and Terminus, and everything rotten that was beneath it.”

Beth nodded slowly. “I think about that too.”

Maggie glanced at her. “And?”

Beth looked down at Judith, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I still want to believe there’s somewhere left in this world that ain’t trying to kill us.”

Maggie gave a small, wry smile. “You know, sometimes I wonder if Daddy would even recognize us.”

Beth reached over and took her sister’s hand gently. “I think he would,” she said. “And I think he’d be proud we’re still here.”

Maggie gripped her hand a little tighter, and for the first time in a while, they just sat in the quiet together.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aaron stirred on the ground, bound and slumped where Rick had knocked him out less than half an hour ago. A red mark still bloomed on his cheekbone. His pack had already been rifled through—everything dumped on the floor. Flare gun, radio, maps, photos. No weapons.

Rick stood by the barn door like a storm waiting to break.

When Aaron groaned, blinking into the dim light, it was Michonne who moved first.

“You’re awake,” she said, arms crossed. Her voice wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cruel either. “We need answers.”

Aaron squinted, shifting upright. “So…just to clarify—this is the welcome wagon?”

Rick stepped forward, jaw tight. “Who else is out there with you?”

Aaron blinked. “Pardon?”

“The flare gun,” Rick said, holding it up. “You’re supposed to signal someone. How many?”

“Rick—” Michonne started.

“I’m not doing this again,” Rick snapped. “I’m not letting someone walk us into another trap.”

Beth watched from near the wall, her arms folded protectively around her middle. She hadn’t spoken since Rick knocked Aaron out, but her fingers tapped anxiously at her elbow, eyes flicking between him and the others.

Aaron straightened slowly, hands still bound in front of him. “Okay. You’re right to be cautious. Honestly, I’d be worried if you weren’t. But I swear to you—I’m alone  right now . I have a partner, Eric. He’s nearby, but not here. The flare is just a signal in case we need each other. We’ve got a car and an RV about a mile up the road that’s full of supplies. Food, medicine, clean water.”

Rick’s jaw tightened. “That easy, huh?”

Aaron held his gaze, voice calm despite his bruised face. “I get it, you’ve lost people, and you’re scared. But I’m here to offer you something, a chance to live. Not just survive.” He looked around at them. “I’ve seen what people out here are willing to do to survive. But that’s not who we are. Alexandria isn’t a trap. We’re building something that’s worth it.”

Sasha’s voice cut in, low but steady. “He didn’t try anything when he saw me and Maggie, he just held his hands up.”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” Rick said flatly.

“It might,” Maggie added, stepping forward. “He said he’s been watching us. He could’ve done something but he didn’t. He said he’s the one who left the water on the road.”

Aaron nodded quickly. “You were starving and dehydrated. I didn’t think you’d trust it, but I had to try.”

Rick said nothing, but his silence was heavy.

Beth spoke then, voice quiet but clear. “Why us?”

Aaron turned to her slowly, blinking against the sting of the barn light. “Because you’re still here,” he said simply. “You’re together, you protect each other, and you haven’t turned on one another. That means something.” His eyes moved back to Rick. “And you—your people follow you like they’d walk into fire for you. That kind of leadership matters.”

Rick didn’t move. But the tension in his shoulders hadn’t lessened.

Beth shifted slightly, biting the inside of her cheek.. Her instincts screamed to be wary. Every stranger since Grady had carried shadows. But this man? He looked scared too, scared and tired. Human. “I want to believe you,” Beth said slowly. “I do, but we’ve been burned before.”

Aaron’s voice softened. “That’s why I came unarmed, and that’s why I brought the pictures. I knew you’d never believe words alone.”

A long pause followed.

Everyone waited on Rick.

Finally, he took one step back. “Maggie. Glenn. Michonne,” Rick said, nodding without looking away from Aaron. “Take Rosita and Abraham with you. Find the vehicles, see if this is real.”

There was a shift in the barn as silent understanding passed between those chosen. They grabbed what they needed—packs, knives, firearms—without a word of complaint.

Michonne tightened the straps on her katana harness and moved to the door. Rosita double-checked her rifle. Abraham adjusted the strap on his shoulder and let out a low grunt, casting a glance at Aaron. “Well,” he muttered, half to himself, “if this is a trap, it’s the politest one I’ve seen yet.”

Beth looked at Maggie, then reached out and lightly touched her sister’s arm. “Be careful,” she said gently, not pleading, just a quiet tether of worry and love.

Maggie paused, her expression softening. She nodded. “I will.”

They shared a look, then Maggie followed Glenn toward the exit.

The barn doors creaked open again, letting in a rush of cold air and gray light. The five of them slipped out, one after the other, disappearing into the morning fog.

Inside, the barn settled into silence again.

Rick stayed near Aaron, his expression still unreadable, the flare gun loose in his hand but not forgotten.

Aaron shifted against the post, breathing through his nose, watching the doors like he already knew the next few hours would determine everything.

Beth returned to her place against the wall.

Now all they could do was wait.

 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The wind scraped cold fingers across the boards of the barn, whistling through the slats. Maggie, Glenn, Rosita, Michonne, and Abraham had left just a bit ago to find the supplies Aaron mentioned, the others were just outside, doing a cautious sweep of the perimeter.

In the far corner, Judith was crying again. Her tiny face was flushed, tears running hot down her cheeks as she squirmed against Beth’s shoulder. The cries weren’t frantic, but they were hungry, desperate.

Beth rocked her slowly, murmuring soft, broken lullabies, her free hand working over the dull grindstone. She had acorns—the last of what she’d foraged that morning. Bitter and not meant for babies, but roasted and ground into a paste, they were something, a nd Beth had nothing else.

 

Daryl stood a few feet away, crouched in a watchful hunch, never taking his eyes off Aaron, who was seated near the wall with his hands zip-tied. The man had been calm ever since the others had taken off to scout the location he claimed held food and vehicles—but that didn’t mean anyone was relaxing. Especially not Daryl, e specially not with Beth looking pale and tired, and cradling a screaming baby.

Beth blinked back tears and tried to keep her voice level. “I can’t get the grind fine enough, she’s gonna choke on it.”

Daryl stepped forward, stiff and uncertain. “Let me try—”

“I might have something.”

Both Beth and Daryl turned toward Aaron’s voice.

His tone was cautious, nonthreatening. “In my bag. I brought it to prove I was being honest. There’s a pouch of applesauce.”

Beth stared at him like he’d spoken another language.

Daryl’s body shifted immediately, shielding her. “Don’t.”

“I know what this sounds like,” Aaron said, lifting his bound hands slightly. “But I wouldn’t lie about food for a baby.”

Beth hesitated, heart pounding. She glanced at Judith, who was still fussing weakly in her arms, her small cries starting to wear into hiccups.

“Please,” Aaron said. “Just look.”

Beth looked to Daryl, unsure.

He looked furious—but after a beat, he gave a short nod. “I’ll get it.” He crossed to Aaron’s bag like it might explode in his hands. He rifled through it with jerky movements, then froze.

There it was.

A soft pouch of applesauce, still sealed.

Daryl held it up, skeptical. “What the hell is this?”

“Food,” Aaron said.

“Or poison,” Daryl bit out.

Beth reached for it slowly. “Let me see.” She turned the packet over. It was clean and unopened. Something about the smooth plastic in her hand felt surreal—like it belonged to the old world. The kind of thing you’d throw in a school lunchbox. “It smells fine,” she murmured after carefully tearing the top open.

“That don’t mean nothin,” Daryl said, arms folding over his chest. “Ain’t safe.”

“I’ll prove it,” Aaron said suddenly. “Give it here.”

Daryl stiffened. “You ain’t getting near her.”

“Then watch me.” Aaron leaned forward slightly. “I’ll take the first bite. I want her to have it.”

Beth met Daryl’s gaze again. He looked like he wanted to break Aaron in two, but he was watching her, waiting.

She didn’t plead, she didn’t have to. Her expression—tired, desperate, but steady, spoke enough.

Daryl exhaled hard through his nose and stepped just enough to the side, still hovering close. “Fine. But if you twitch wrong, I’ll gut you.”

Aaron nodded and leaned forward as Beth cautiously handed him the pouch. He took a careful bite, and swallowed.

Nothing happened.

No twitching, no gasping, just silence.

Beth snatched it back from him, heart pounding, and turned toward Judith. The baby was still whimpering. She pressed the opening gently to her lips and Judith latched, slow at first—then eagerly. Her cries faded into suckling sounds. Beth let out a trembling breath. “She’s eating,” she whispered. “She’s really eating.”

Daryl crouched beside her, his arm coming around her back without hesitation. His hand rested at the base of her spine, grounding her, steadying her. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

Aaron leaned back against the wall, tired but satisfied. “Told you.”

Beth didn’t thank him.

Not yet.

But the look she gave him—cautious, grateful, and still wary—was the closest thing to mercy he’d get from this group.

For now.

The barn door creaked open again a bit later, and Rick stepped inside, boots crunching against hay. His revolver was still holstered but his hand hovered near it, fingers flexing with habit. He scanned the space with sharp, practiced eyes—counting heads, gauging tension. He didn’t miss much.

The first thing he saw was Aaron still bound, still sitting. Alive.

The second thing was Daryl—crouched beside Beth, one arm looped behind her back, his whole body angled protectively toward her like he hadn’t moved since Rick left.

The third—Judith, nestled in Beth’s arms, no longer crying. She was suckling greedily at something in Beth’s hand. A pouch.

Rick’s expression darkened instantly. “What is that?” he asked, his voice low but taut.

Beth didn’t look up right away. Her attention was on Judith, her fingers smoothing the baby’s hair. She spoke gently. “Applesauce.”

Rick blinked. “From where?”

Daryl stood, slow and solid. “His bag.”

Rick’s jaw tightened. “You fed her something from his pack?”

“She was starving,” Beth said, her voice still calm but firmer now. “The acorn meal wasn’t fine enough; she couldn’t eat it. She was crying for hours, Rick.”

“She’s okay,” Daryl added, “We watched him eat it first.”

Rick’s eyes cut to Aaron, narrowing. “You told them to give that to her?”

Aaron shook his head, lifting his bound hands slightly. “I offered, they made the call.”

Rick stepped closer. “You could’ve poisoned her.”

“I didn’t,” Aaron said evenly.

Beth finally looked up, meeting Rick’s eyes without flinching. “She’s eating, she’s quiet, she’s safe.”

The words carried more weight than they should have.

Rick studied them—the baby curled in Beth’s arms, her tear-streaked face now relaxed in sleep, Daryl standing just behind her like a sentry. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, then: “Where’s the rest of it?”

Beth handed him the half-empty pouch without protest. Rick examined it, turning it over in his hand like it might reveal a lie. He glanced at Daryl. “And you were okay with this?”

Daryl didn’t blink. “No, but I trust her, and she trusted it.”

That hung heavy in the space between them.

Rick exhaled through his nose, tension still radiating off him. He stepped back, just slightly. “If she gets sick—”

“She won’t,” Beth said, quiet but certain. “I wouldn’t have risked it if I thought it’d hurt her.”

Rick didn’t answer. But he looked at Judith again—peaceful now, tiny fingers curled against Beth’s chest—and for a moment, something in his posture loosened.

Not trust.

But maybe the beginning of it.

Chapter 18

Maggie, Glenn, Rosita, Michonne, and Abraham had returned not long ago with what looked like a small miracle: cans, boxes, pouches—real food, and It had changed something in the barn.

Beth stood near the center of the barn, arms folded tight across her chest. Daryl was beside her, just slightly behind, his presence solid and grounding. She could feel his warmth near her shoulder, the way his fingers ghosted close to hers, just in case she needed him to reach out and take her hand.

Judith was asleep again, curled under an extra jacket beside her. The applesauce had worked, that mattered more to her than anything else Aaron could offer.

She wasn’t alone in her suspicions, but the part of her that still sang lullabies, the part that hummed songs from an old world, and believed that there were still good people out there wanted to believe this wasn’t just another carefully tied noose. Aaron had brought them sustenance, smiling, and hopeful. But she saw Rick’s jaw twitch, and she knew his answer before he spoke.

“It’s ours now,” Rick said finally, his voice low, flat. “Whether we go with you or not.”

Aaron didn’t blink. “I figured you’d say that.”

Beth watched from beneath her lashes as Michonne stepped forward, arms swinging with restrained conviction. “We should at least listen to him, Rick,” Michonne said. “This place…it might be real. It might be safe.”

“He wasn’t lying about the food.” Maggie added.

Carl, standing nearby with his hat tilted back, chimed in. “Dad, come on. Look at us! We’re tired, everyone’s starving, and Judith…” His voice wavered only for a second. “We can’t just survive forever. We have to live, too.”

Rick stared at his son, jaw clenched.

Beth swallowed around the lump in her throat. She wanted to speak, to echo Carl’s words, to say she wanted to believe in walls and gardens and peace—but Rick’s narrowed gaze held her back. Not out of fear, but…loyalty. It kept her tongue tied.

A voice broke the silence again.

“Ahunno, man.” Daryl drawled from her side, arms folded. “Barn smells like horseshit. I wouldn’t say no to a change of scenery.”

Beth blinked, turning her head toward him. Daryl wasn’t smiling, not exactly, but the slight tilt of his mouth, the knowing flick of his eyes toward her, said it all. He knew what this meant to her. He saw it. A smile tugged at her lips before she could help it.

Rick exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand across his beard. “So, where are we going?” He turned to face Aaron. “Where’s your camp?”


Aaron hesitated, like a deer pinned in headlights. “Well…every time I’ve done this, I’ve been behind the wheel, driving new people back.” Seeing Rick’s expression shift, he quickly added, “I believe you’re all good people, I do. I bet my life on it just walking in here—but I’m not ready to bet my friends’ lives. Not yet.”

“You’re not driving,” Michonne said flatly, stepping closer. “So, if you want to get home, you’ll have to tell us how.”

Aaron swallowed, his eyes doing another sweep of those gathered in the barn as Rick unfurled the map and with a sigh of defeat, he spoke. “Go north on Route 16.”


“And then?” Michonne gently pressed.


“I’ll tell you when we get there.”


“We’ll take 23 north.” Rick said flatly. “You’ll give us directions from there.”


“That’s –” Aaron shook his head quickly. “I don’t know how else to say it, that’s a bad idea. We’ve cleared 16, it’ll be faster.”


“We’ll take 23,” Rick repeated. His voice left no room for discussion.

Beth saw Maggie tense beside her, she couldn’t blame her.

“We leave at sundown.”


“We’re doing this at night?” Sasha asked incredulously from the crate she was leaning against.


Beth could tell the idea made Noah anxious from the way he shifted from foot to foot.


“Look, I know it’s dangerous.” Rick started. “But it’s better than riding up to the gates during the day. If it isn’t safe we need to get gone before they know we’re there.”

“No one is going to hurt you.” Aaron said, his voice firm and calm as though he were trying to reassure a wounded animal. “You’re trying to protect your group but you’re putting them in danger.”


Rick turned back to Aaron, hand resting on one of the barn’s support beams. “Then tell me where the camp is and we’ll leave right now.”


Aaron’s jaw shifted for a moment, as though grappling with something inside of himself before he drew his gaze from Rick’s and onto the hay strewn floor, defeated.


Rick stared at Aaron for a moment longer before he stood. “It’s going to be a long night.” He looked at the group. “Eat and get some rest if you can.” He turned and walked past them all, out the barn door, the light cutting across his figure like a blade.

The barn fell silent.

Beth looked down, her fingers curling into her sleeves. She should have said something. Should have added her voice. Instead, she’d watched it all play out like a girl on the edge of two lives—the loyal survivor Rick had protected, and the dreamer who wanted to believe in goodwill and safety.

Maggie gently touched her arm. “You okay?”

Beth nodded, but her voice was thin. “Yeah, just tired.”

As the group began to move, some to gather gear, others to keep watch, Beth lingered a moment longer, her eyes tracing the boxes of food, h ope wrapped in aluminum. She still didn’t know if they were walking toward safety or another cage. But she saw the way Daryl’s eyes had softened when he looked at her—how even in all this chaos, she wasn’t alone.

And for tonight, maybe that was enough.

The light outside was beginning to fade. That gray, almost-blue stretch of twilight before darkness took over.

Inside the barn, everything had settled into a strange calm. Some were eating, others checking weapons and gear. A few were already lying down, trying to steal a little rest before the night. Daryl was outside with Rick and Michonne, going over the route again. Beth had tucked herself near the base of the loft ladder, Judith curled asleep in her arms, bundled beneath Daryl’s jacket.

Carl sat down across from her without a word. He didn’t need to ask if he could. He just dropped down, mirroring her posture, legs pulled up, hat slightly askew.

They sat in silence for a while, letting the wind whisper through the slats in the barn wall.

“She’s really sleeping,” Carl said eventually, voice hushed.

Beth nodded, looking down at Judith’s peaceful face. “Yeah. Took a long time.”

“She cried a lot earlier.”

Beth’s smile was faint and a little worn. “She was hungry. Scared.” She paused. “We all were.”

Carl looked down at the ground between them, then back up at her. “You did good, getting her to eat.”

Beth didn’t say anything at first. Her thumb rubbed gently over Judith’s tiny back as she whispered, “She needed it, I would’ve done anything.”

Carl nodded.

Beth studied him for a moment. His face had changed, not just with time, but with the weight he carried. He still looked like a boy sometimes, especially when he tilted his head like that. But there was something older in his eyes now, something she recognized in her own. “You did good today,” she said quietly.

Carl blinked. “What?”

“Standing up to your dad.” She gave a small shrug. “I know it’s not easy.”

Carl looked down, brushing a bit of hay from his knee. “He’s trying to protect us, I get it, I do, But…” He looked back up at her, eyes earnest. “We can’t keep living like this. Hiding, starving, waiting for the next bad thing. If this place is even half what Aaron says it is—don’t we have to try?”

Beth nodded slowly. “I want to believe it, too.”

“But you’re scared.”

Beth’s throat tightened. “Aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Carl admitted. “But I’m more scared of what happens to us if we stop trying, stop hoping.” He looked at Judith, asleep and safe for now. “She’s not gonna remember any of this. The prison, the road, the crying…but I will. And I want her to have something better to grow up in.”

Beth let out a quiet breath, eyes flicking to the rafters overhead. “Daddy used to say, ‘Hope that is seen is no hope at all.’ From Romans.” She paused. “He’d always follow it with, ‘We hope for what we do not see, and wait for it patiently.’ ”

Carl was quiet, listening.

Beth smiled faintly, but there was an ache behind it. “I never really understood it when I was younger. Thought it just meant sitting still and praying things got better. But now I think…maybe it means believing even when everything’s telling you not to, when it’s easier not to.”

Carl shifted, thoughtful. “I think he was right about that.”

Beth looked at him again and saw a boy with calluses on his hands and grief in his eyes—still young, but old in the ways that mattered. “She’d be proud of you, you know,” she said.

Carl tilted his head. “Judith?”

 

Beth gave him a real smile this time. “Her too, but I meant Lori.”

Carl froze, eyes wide for a beat—like he hadn’t expected anyone to say her name out loud.

But he didn’t look away. His voice cracked, just a little. “You think so?”

Beth nodded, gentle. “Yeah, I do.”

Carl swallowed hard, blinking fast. He didn’t say anything else, but the quiet between them settled into something deeper. 

Safer.

Chapter 19

Inside the RV, Abraham sat behind the wheel, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. “Seatbelts,” he grunted. “We’re takin’ the smoothest road hell’s got. Don’t complain unless you're flyin' through the windshield.”

Beth sat on the bench seat with Judith bundled tight against her chest, gently rocking with the motion of the road. Daryl sat beside her, one knee braced against the floor, his arm behind her on the seat—not quite touching, but close. Every so often, his fingers brushed her side when the RV jostled too hard. Maggie was on the other side of Beth, quiet and alert. Carl sat across from them, his arms folded and his hat pushed back just enough to show the tension behind his eyes.

Rosita and Sasha were near the back, quietly comparing fallback options and roads. Noah hovered near the front, both hands clenched on the back of the passenger seat, bouncing one leg unconsciously.

Rick’s car took off first, headlights cutting through the trees beyond. The RV rumbled behind, heavy and slow, tires crunching over gravel.

The road narrowed, winding through dark woods that looked like they’d never end. Fog pressed in against the glass like breath, and then came the low, hungry chorus of the dead.

“We’re good,” Abraham muttered, knuckles white on the wheel. “Just a little undead ambiance. Romantic, if you’re into candlelight and cannibals.”

Fifteen minutes passed in relative calm, then the sound came before the danger.

That awful, dragging moan. The sick, unmistakable sound of walkers.

A lot of them.

Then—

Thump. Thump. CRUNCH.

The RV jerked hard as something, several somethings, went under the wheels.

“What the hell was that?!” Noah shouted, scrambling for the window.

Carl leaned forward. “Walkers! We hit walkers!”

“Where the hell did they come from?” Maggie gasped, reaching for the bench frame to steady herself.

The RV bounced again, harder this time, tilting like it might tip, the tires groaning under the weight. There were bodies under them. Beth clutched Judith tighter as the baby began to fuss, the jostling too much.

“Shit!” Abraham bellowed, jerking the wheel to keep them on the road.

“Jesus!” Rosita shouted. “They’re just—in the road! That’s a full damn herd!”

Beth’s breath caught. The RV rocked side to side, the sound of bones and limbs crunching beneath them was deafening, scraping like wreckage under the floorboards.

Then, in a blink—Rick’s car vanished.

One second the taillights glowed red like a beacon, and the next—they were gone, swallowed whole by the flood of walkers

Abraham slammed the brakes and the RV shuddered with the force, tires locking on the pavement. “Hold on!” he barked, twisting the wheel to keep them from slamming into the herd. The RV fishtailed, the headlights sweeping across the nightmare in the road.

“Where’s dad?!” Carl shouted, gripping the back of the bench seat.

“They were ahead of us—he must’ve gone straight through!” Sasha said.

“We didn’t see him turn!” Noah yelled.

“He didn’t,” Daryl said, already moving toward the side window, eyes narrowed. “He drove right into it.”

Beth’s grip on Judith tightened. The baby whimpered, shifting in her arms.

Maggie leaned closer, whispering, “Just breathe, Beth. She’s okay. You’re okay.”

Abraham cursed under his breath. “We ain’t makin’ the same mistake.”

“Do not back up into them,” Rosita said.

“I ain’t stupid,” Abraham snapped. “We’re takin’ the slope.”

The RV whipped into a side path off the shoulder, skidding as it barreled away from the road and into thick woods.

“We lost sight of him,” Sasha said. “And we can’t reach him.”

“We stick to the trail, we keep ahead of the herd,” Daryl muttered.

“But dad–” Carl started but Daryl cut him off, gently. “Rick’s smart, he’ll make it through. We gotta keep movin.”

Abraham cursed under his breath and slowed the RV, “Hold on,” he growled, throwing the vehicle into reverse. The engine groaned under the shift, and the RV backed up as walkers began appearing in the dark.

Inside the RV, everyone tensed.

“Shit,” Rosita muttered.

“Are they surrounding us?” Carl asked, peering frantically out the fogged windows.

“Not yet,” Daryl said quickly. “We can still move.”

Judith stirred in Beth’s arms, and Beth rocked her gently, heart pounding.

“Judith’s still asleep,” Maggie whispered, like that was the only good thing keeping her grounded.

Abraham spun the wheel, backing them up and shifting gears. “We ain’t dying in this tin can.”

With a roar, the RV whipped around and veered off onto a back path, avoiding the densest part of the herd. It groaned over rocks and broken pavement, jostling hard enough to make everyone brace.

“They’re following us,” Noah warned, looking out the rear.

“Let ’em,” Daryl said, voice low. “We’ll lose ’em in the turns.”

Beth held onto Judith as tightly as she could without hurting her, eyes wide in the dark. She could feel it in her bones. This wasn’t the worst of it, it was just the beginning.

The RV’s tires thundered over the cracked pavement, gravel and debris snapping under the weight of it as Abraham gripped the wheel with both hands and squinted through the windshield.

“Damn fog’s thicker than a bull’s skull,” he muttered. “I swear if I hit another dead guy, I’m not stopping to check his dental records.”

Sasha made her way up to the passenger seat side and let out a breath and wiped the condensation from the window. In the back, the RV swayed slightly as the group inside grumbled, shifted, and stewed in equal parts exhaustion and anxiety.

“Are you sure Glenn went this way?” Rosita asked, one hand braced on the wall as the vehicle bounced. “We’re not just driving in circles?”

“Positive,” Abraham replied without looking back. “And by positive, I mean I’m hopin’ real hard and refusing to admit doubt. That’s leadership, right?” 

“Great,” Tara muttered from the kitchenette. “We’re betting on luck with the guy who thought heading to D.C. with a compulsive liar and no plan was the move.”

“Hey now,” Eugene spoke up, legs folded tightly on the dinette bench. “I never claimed to have no plan, I simply had a well fabricated plan. Let us not conflate intention with ignorance.”

“Shut up, Eugene,” Tara and Rosita said in unison.

Beth sat curled with Judith in her arms, rocking gently despite the rough terrain of the road. Judith was fussing again, tiny hands flailing, her soft cries growing steadily more agitated. Beth whispered calming tones, rubbing slow circles on her back, her voice threadbare. “Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay, baby girl. I know it’s loud. Just breathe, breathe with me.”

But Judith didn’t want to breathe, she wanted her world to stop shaking.

Daryl glanced down at Judith. “You want me to try takin’ her?” he asked quietly.

Beth shook her head. “She’s just scared, I know that feelin’.”

Daryl gave a low grunt, nodding. “Yeah.”

Noah glanced over. “You got this, you’re like a baby whisperer.”

Beth gave a soft, tired smile, then winced as Judith’s cries sharpened. “Well, I’m not whispering loud enough right now.”

“We can’t keep drivin’ like this,” Rosita said. “We’re wasting gas and there’s no guarantee we’re not headed into a trap.”

“Would you rather wait for the herd to catch up?” Sasha snapped. “We’ve got maybe a couple miles on them.”

“Less if we keep arguing,” Noah added.

“Let’s take a vote—” Tara began.

And then a bright red flare cut through the sky. It soared like a meteor, visible even through the murky window and fogged windshield, a screaming crimson line in the night.

Everyone went still.

Judith, miraculously, quieted.

“Son of a bitch,” Abraham said, sitting up straighter. “That’s them.”

Beth looked out the window, her brow furrowed. “Rick?”

“It’s gotta be,” Sasha said, already tightening her grip on the side rail. “That’s not a flare you use for fun, that’s a signal.”

Abraham grinned, sitting up straighter. “Now we’re talkin’. Hold on to your knickers, ladies and gents, we’re following the firework.”

The RV swerved, everyone stumbling and gripping for balance.

Judith hiccuped, then rested her head against Beth’s chest, exhausted.

Beth’s heart thudded in time with the wheels.

_______________________________________________________________

Outside, the woods blurred past in streaks of gray and shadow. The only light came from the faint trail of a signal flare they’d glimpsed in the distance.

Inside, the air was thick with tension.

Carl kept watch near the window now while Rosita leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed, staring silently. Daryl stood beside Abraham now, tense and alert, his crossbow loaded and ready.

But it was Maggie who couldn’t sit still. She was pacing—three steps up the aisle, pivot, three steps back, bracing herself against the seats and counters so she wouldn’t fall over. Again and again; her arms were wrapped around herself, jaw clenched tight. “They should’ve been behind us,” she muttered. “That flare wasn’t that far off, we should’ve caught up by now.”

“We don’t even know if that flare came from them,” Rosita added, her tone clipped but not unkind. “It could’ve been anything.”

“We can’t assume the worst,” Beth said quietly from her place on the floor, rocking Judith gently. “Glenn’s smart, Michonne and Rick too. They’ll find us.”

Maggie stopped pacing. She turned to her sister with wide, anxious eyes. “You didn’t see him, Beth. He had a limp yesterday, if something happened—”

“Then he’ll crawl,” Beth said, with more fire in her voice than she expected. “He’ll crawl if he has to because he loves you, and you’d do the same for him.”

Maggie’s shoulders dropped, the weight of the words hitting her hard. Her mouth trembled, but she quickly turned away.

Beth stood slowly, careful not to jostle Judith, and approached her sister. She reached out and touched Maggie’s arm gently. “We’ve lost enough,” Beth said, her voice lower now. “Daddy, too many. Glenn’s not gone, you’d feel it if he was.”

Maggie looked at her for a long moment before finally nodding, her breath shaky. “I just want to see him,” she whispered.

“I know,” Beth said, pulling her into a soft one-armed hug, Judith between them. “And you will.”

Carl glanced back at them with a faint, tired smile, then returned to watching the tree line.

Outside, the red glow of the flare had faded, but they were still moving.

Together.

Chapter 20

The world smelled like ash and rot. The sounds of the dead were still distant, but the urgency in the RV was palpable as Abraham gunned it down the road. “Keep your eyes peeled,” Abraham barked. We ain’t outta the woods yet—figuratively or literally.”

They followed the faint trail of smoke, winding past fallen streetlights and overturned mailboxes. The engine rumbled low as they reached a narrow alley, barely wide enough to park beside.

“Stop!” Maggie shouted. “Someone’s down!”

Abraham braked hard and everyone piled out fast. Daryl hit the pavement first, crossbow raised. Rosita and Sasha followed him, covering the alley walls. Beth was a heartbeat behind them, clutching Judith close, her heart thudding in her ribs. Daryl glanced back just once, checking for her. His eyes flicked over her and upon seeing Judith safe, and Beth steady on her feet, he turned back, reassured.

At the alley’s end, a man in a dark jacket leaned against a dumpster, grimacing as he clutched his leg. A walker lay behind him, skull caved in with a piece of broken pipe. The man looked up, eyes wide. “Oh thank God,” he gasped. “You—are you with Aaron?”

“Yeah,” Sasha said tightly. “He found us.”

“Are you Eric?” Rosita called out, stepping in closer.

“Yeah, that’s me.” The man nodded rapidly, then winced. “Twisted my ankle bad fighting that thing. I killed it, but—I couldn’t move fast enough.”

Daryl kept his bow trained for another beat before lowering it. “Ain’t bit?”

“No,” Eric said quickly. “I swear—just twisted it.” he then pointed behind him. “Aaron and I agreed that if things went bad, we’d meet in that warehouse. It’s just up ahead, and clear inside.”

“Alright,” Maggie said, crouching beside him and already assessing his ankle. “Let me see what we’re dealing with. We’ll get you inside.”

Beth adjusted Judith in her arms, the baby still miraculously asleep, her tiny breath warm against Beth’s collarbone. She shifted her grip carefully, mindful of the weight and the hush that came from carrying someone too precious to lose.

Daryl moved to her side, silent, and close enough for his arm to brush hers. “C’mon,” he murmured, voice low and using the kind of tone he reserved only for her. “Let’s get you both inside.  No tellin’ what else is crawlin’ around out here.”

Beth nodded, grateful for the gentle touch he placed at the small of her back. His hand wasn’t there to guide—it was there to reassure. She leaned slightly into him as they moved toward the warehouse.

The door creaked open, revealing the interior—dusty, but secure. Shelves lined the walls and there was a battered office to the side.

Daryl took one more look around, then gestured her in. “S’clear.”

Beth stepped inside, the shadows wrapping around her like a cloak. She shifted Judith in her arms, her fingers brushing through the baby’s fine hair.

“We’ll wait here,” she said quietly. “They’ll come.”

Daryl gave her a look that was quiet and steady. “Yeah, they will.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The air was heavy with smoke from the small campfire flickering at the center of the warehouse. Shadows danced across the cracked concrete walls, the faint smell of motor oil and damp earth curling around the edges of the silence. Outside, the wind whistled through broken windows like a ghost that refused to rest. Now, the group was hunkered down in the building, the RV parked crooked outside. Everyone was tired physically and emotionally. No one had said it out loud, but the worry over the others hung heavy between them. Beth sat near the fire with Judith in her arms, gently bouncing the baby in her lap as Carl crouched nearby, watching the flame with unfocused eyes. The others spread through the space—Maggie and Rosita sat against one wall, heads bowed in quiet conversation; Tara had taken watch near the front door with Abraham beside her, silent for once. Noah paced slowly between the barrels, his limp more pronounced with every hour that passed. Carol leaned against the far wall with her arms crossed, watching everything without saying a word.

Daryl wasn’t inside.

“She’s asleep,” Beth whispered eventually.

“Judith?” Carl asked, glancing over.

Beth nodded, smiling gently. “Out cold, like she knows we needed a break.”

Carl chuckled. “She’s tougher than I’ll ever be.”

Beth leaned toward him, offering the baby into his arms. “Here, keep her warm for me?”

Carl blinked. “You going somewhere?”

“Just for a minute,” she said, her voice soft. “Gotta check on someone.”

Outside, Daryl stood near the warped loading dock, crossbow slung over his shoulder, one boot resting on a broken pallet. His eyes scanned the alleyway beyond the fence, shoulders tight with that old restlessness he could never shake. He didn’t turn when he heard her, just spoke low. “You oughta be sleepin’.”

Beth stopped beside him, arms crossed tight against the chill. “You oughta be inside.”

He exhaled slowly, breath curling into the night. “Couldn’t.”

For a moment, the silence between them was comfortable and familiar. Their shoulders brushed when the wind blew hard enough to push them together. Beth could smell the sweat on him, the hint of road dust in his shirt, and the faint leather of his vest.

“…You think it’s real?” she asked finally, her voice soft. “Aaron, his story, the walls, the ‘good people.’ You think it’s legit?”

Daryl looked over at her, his eyes shadowed. “I think people’ll say just about anything. Doesn’t mean they’re lyin’, but don’t mean they’re tellin’ the whole truth neither.”

Beth gave a small nod, chewing her bottom lip. “Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

Then Beth said, barely above a whisper, “Remember the funeral home?”

Daryl’s jaw tensed.

Beth continued anyway. “That night….you asked me to stay, that maybe we could find whoever had set up there and make peace with em and stick around.”

His voice was rough. “Yeah.”

“I’ve thought about that a lot,” she said. “How it felt. That weird little place with the candles and the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches…the casket that didn’t smell like rot.” Her smile was sad. “We almost had something there, just for a minute.”

Daryl’s eyes dropped. “Wasn’t enough.”

“No,” she agreed. “But it could’ve been. It felt like…like maybe we could’ve started something. Built something, even if the world was still falling apart around us.” Beth shifted a little closer, her voice steady now. “If Alexandria’s real—if it’s even a little like what he says—I want that with you.”

Daryl looked at her then, really looked at her, like the words had landed somewhere he didn’t quite know how to reach yet.

Beth didn’t flinch from his gaze. “I’m not sayin’ it’ll be easy. But if there’s even a chance…I want us to try, I want us to have something that’s ours. Even if it’s just four walls and a mattress.”

Daryl swallowed hard, his throat working like the words were caught somewhere behind his ribs. “Ain’t nothin’ sayin’ it’ll work out.”

“I know,” Beth said, reaching out to touch his hand. “But I’m not askin’ for guarantees, I’m askin’ if you still want me to stay.”

His fingers curled around hers, rough and warm. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I do.” His eyes held hers for a long moment, something unspoken resting between them—something that might’ve turned into more if not for the faint, familiar crunch of boots on pavement in the alleyway. He stiffened and stood slowly, peering into the alley. “Someone’s comin’.”

Beth reached instinctively for her knife.

Then came a shape, then two, then four, and recognition hit like a wave.

“Rick,” Daryl breathed, before raising his voice with a sharp call. “It’s them!”

The warehouse behind them erupted in motion. Carl burst through the door, still holding Judith close to his chest. His face lit up upon seeing Rick. “Dad!” he yelled.

Rick broke into a run the second he saw them. He swept Carl into his arms, wrapping them both in a fierce hug. Judith squealed, sandwiched between them, her little hands grabbing at Rick’s beard.

Behind them, Aaron broke from the group and sprinted inside. “Eric!” he called, disappearing into the warehouse.

Beth stood frozen for a moment, watching the reunion unfold in waves—Abraham patting Rick’s shoulder, Maggie throwing her arms around Glenn as he came into view, Sasha exhaling a shaky breath as Michonne offered her a tired smile. And in the soft hum of relief that followed, Beth let herself breathe.

__________________________________________

For once, there was laughter in the air.

Not much—just a little, just enough to mean something.

Beth sat on an overturned crate near the center of the warehouse, beside her, Carl was making faces at Judith, and Eugene was mumbling to Rosita about wagon axle efficiency like it was a bedtime story. Maggie and Glenn were curled together near the wall, heads touching, while Abraham stood watch outside with Sasha, arms crossed, still skeptical of everything.

And in the middle of it all stood Aaron, looking sheepish, but sincere, as he addressed the group. “I just wanted to say thank you,” Aaron said, voice catching a bit as he looked toward Eric, who was propped up on a cot with a bandaged ankle. “For what you did back there, I owe you everything.”

Rick, guarded as always, gave a small nod, but it was Michonne who stepped forward with a tired smile. “Just tell us the place is real.”

Aaron met her gaze. “It is. And when we get there, I’ll personally vouch for every single one of you.”

Beth felt her chest tighten—then rise. There was still weariness in her bones, still the shadow of hospital walls and the echo of gunfire in her memory…but in that moment, something pierced through the gloom.

It was hope.

Real, warm, dangerous hope.

She looked across the barn and found Daryl leaning in the doorway, arms folded, watching the group with that familiar scowl that didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore. When their gazes met, something softened in his shoulders, and Beth smiled.

The RV rattled down the long, cracked road, tires humming over asphalt pitted with age. Dust plumed in its wake as the convoy pushed forward towards the gates of what Aaron promised was safety, the rising sun casting everything in that soft, uncertain light just before morning settled in for good.

They’d been driving all night. The silence inside was thick—weighted with exhaustion, guarded hope, and a dozen unspoken worries. Up front, Abraham gripped the wheel with one hand, the other curled loosely around a half-empty water bottle he hadn’t sipped from in miles. He squinted at the horizon, his jaw working absently as they hit another bump. Rosita was beside him in the passenger seat, the two making conversation here and there. In the back, Beth leaned against Daryl’s side, her head tucked under his chin and his arm draped around her shoulders. She hadn’t said much since they set off from the warehouse and neither had he. She’d dozed against him in fits, jolting awake each time the road curved too hard or someone spoke too loud, but Daryl was always there, solid and steady, one thumb brushing the curve of her arm or her wrist or the back of her hand until she calmed again.

Rosita yawned and stretched out her legs with a quiet groan, boot scuffing the dashboard. “Y’know,” she said, glancing at the blur of highway out the window, “we just passed mile marker 50. We’re finally in D.C.”

Abraham chuckled in response. “Took the scenic route. Nearly got us killed six times, but hey, we made it.”

Rosita smirked. “Feels a lot less monumental with a walker arm stuck in the grill."

“Still counts.”

It was Glenn who noticed first. He leaned forward from where he sat, peering through the windshield. “Guys,” he said, voice tight with disbelief, “I think we’re here.”

Beth stirred from her half-doze as the RV began to slow, blinking slowly as her eyes adjusted to the pale morning light. 

Daryl felt her shift and glanced down at her. “We’re stoppin’,” he murmured.

Shifting away from him, Beth rubbed at her sleepy eyes as she focused on what was outside the window, and froze.

The gates were right there—tall, intact, and astonishingly clean.

“Beth?” Daryl’s voice called gently from the aisle, breaking her from her thoughts as he held out a hand for her to take.

And she took it, shifting out of the seat slowly, stretching out the stiffness in her legs. Her knees still ached from weeks of marching and sleeping in corners. Daryl helped her down from the door, careful and steady. Not because she was weak—but because it was instinct, that quiet thread of protectiveness he never quite turned off when it came to her. His fingers brushed her elbow as she stepped out. The air hit her first, cleaner somehow, cooler. Her boots hit the asphalt and she took a slow step forward, blinking against the bright rise of morning. 

Then she heard it.

Children. Their laughter was distant, coming from behind the walls but it was high-pitched and real. Not ragged and delirious, not fading memories—real children, alive and playing.

It hit her like a weight and a balm all at once. Beth tilted her head back to look at the gates again, the sight too big to process all at once.

“You okay?” Daryl asked, voice quiet, his breath brushing her temple.

“I think so,” she whispered.

He studied her, then reached up and gently tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. She leaned into the touch, just slightly.

Carol stood a little apart from the others, her gaze flitting across the fences, already assessing the angles, the sightlines, the weaknesses.

Rick was already near the front with Judith in his arms, Michonne and Carl at his side. Maggie and Glenn joined them as the others piled out, Glenn’s hand ghosting Maggie’s lower back protectively.

Eugene emerged last with Rosita’s help, “If this is indeed a ruse,” he muttered, “it is convincingly rendered.”

Beth felt Daryl’s hand slide to her lower back, grounding her.

For the first time, Beth didn’t think about what they had to run from, her lips twitching as she dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, they’d finally found a place where they could stop running.

From up front, Rick called, “Let’s move.”

The group moved together, tight and instinctive. Their formation wasn’t planned, it was bone-deep by now. They were a pack, a family.

Beth slipped her fingers into Daryl’s, he laced theirs together without looking as the gates creaked open.

Notes:

AAAAY we've made it to Alexandria!!

Chapter 21

Notes:

Happy 4th to all my American readers! And because it’s a holiday, I’m looking to release not 1, not 2, but 3 chapters today! Stay tuned!

The heavy metal gates groaned open and sunlight spilled through the widening gap. For a moment, Beth could hardly believe what she was seeing—clean streets, trimmed grass, pristine houses. It didn’t feel real.

 

Not after everything.

 

Not after the blood and fire and walkers and loss.

 

Aaron stepped through ahead of them, waving one arm forward as though he were beckoning them into heaven. “Come on,” he said, breathless, “it’s okay.”

 

Rick stood at the front, silent, eyes narrowed and assessing. The group behind him had fallen into stillness, as if one wrong step would shatter the mirage.

 

Beth shifted slightly, Daryl was now a few paces behind her, eyes narrowed and tense, his entire frame coiled like a spring.

 

Eric limped beside Aaron, Aaron supporting him as they passed the gate.

 

That’s when the voice came.

 

“Stop right there,” a young man stepped forward, rifle lowered but hands twitchy. He was blonde and lean with the faint bristle of a mustache on his upper lip, nervous in a way that made Beth’s stomach twist into knots. She instinctively stepped back into Daryl’s space. She didn’t realize she’d done it until she felt his hand brush the small of her back—subtle and grounding. “You want in,” he said, “you hand over your weapons. House rules.”

 

Rick took a step forward, his voice calm but firm. “Not gonna happen.”

 

The man, Nicholas, she would learn later, bristled, lifting his chin like he thought he could puff himself bigger. “You don’t get to come in here armed to the teeth like—”

 

“Hey,” Aaron cut in, lifting a hand. “Nicholas, it’s fine. I’ll explain to Deanna. They’re guests. Stand down.”

 

Nicholas hesitated, lips twitching with something unspoken. Then he lowered the rifle with a scoff. “Whatever.”

 

Abraham snorted. “Nice hospitality. Hope this Deanna’s got better bedside manner.”

 

Aaron turned slightly to address the group, still keeping a hand on Eric. “She’s the founder of Alexandria, she’s the one who built all of this.”

 

Beth shifted her weight, adjusting the strap of her bag and staring down the pristine street like it might vanish if she blinked.

 

Second-story curtains fluttered, people were watching them.

 

Judging.

 

It made her skin itch.

 

The group finally started forward. The silence was louder than any walker snarl. They stopped in front of a brick colonial with a wide porch. A man opened the door and waved them in. “Deanna’s waiting.”

 

Rick turned to the group, his eyes scanned each of them—sizing up their readiness, their tension, their hope. Then, slowly, he looked at Beth. “You got her?” he asked, nodding to Judith.

 

Beth didn’t hesitate. “Always.”

 

Rick’s arms tightened around Judith for just a moment longer, and then—after a long breath—he passed her into Beth’s waiting arms. 

 

Beth adjusted Judith in her arms, cradling the baby close as Rick gave one final glance back at the group before climbing the steps. The screen door creaked softly as he disappeared inside.

 

The man who had opened the door remained on the porch. He was older, maybe in his late fifties, with soft eyes and hands that looked more like they belonged to a teacher than a fighter. He wore a simple button-down with the sleeves rolled up and jeans, his face was lined in a way that didn’t come from the end of the world but from smiling too much before it. He lingered a moment, then stepped out further, offering a tentative smile to the rest of them. “I’m Reg,” he said, voice calm and kind. “Deanna’s husband.” 

 

No one answered right away, a breeze rustling the trees. Beth caught Daryl’s movement beside her—just a slight shift closer, protective without being obvious. She felt it anyway.

 

“You all’ve had a long road,” Reg added, looking them over—not judging, just seeing. “She just wants to speak with your leader first, get a sense of things. Shouldn’t take long.” He gestured toward the porch with an open palm. “You’re welcome to sit and catch your breath. Water’s inside—if you’d like, I can bring some out.”

 

The group didn’t move right away, their stillness hanging like a held breath until finally, Glenn spoke and gave a faint nod. “Thanks.”

 

Reg smiled again, then disappeared into the house, the door closing softly behind him.

 

Beth lowered herself onto the edge of the porch, her knees grateful for the rest. Judith stirred and let out a soft coo. Beth rocked her gently, eyes scanning the quiet street again. It was too peaceful, too perfect, but she couldn’t deny how good the sunlight felt on her skin, and how the absence of growls and gunfire settled snugly in her chest like something warm.

 

Hope.

 

Cautious and unsteady, but there.

 

Daryl sat down beside her without a word, close enough that the warmth of him broke through the anxious knot in her stomach and his knee brushed against hers. He didn’t ask if she was okay, he didn’t have to. 

 

Beth leaned into him just slightly, gaze fixed on the quiet street ahead. “Guess we wait.” she looked at him, offering the faintest smile.

 

Daryl looked at her and the way she leaned into him like she belonged there, and how her arms cradled Judith like she’d done it a thousand times. His jaw slackened just a little, the tension around his eyes easing. “Yeah, guess we do.”

___________________________________

The air was clean.

 

It didn’t smell like blood or fire or the faint, ever-present rot of walkers that lingered everywhere else. It smelled like laundry, cut grass, and sun-warmed brick like an actual porch on a peaceful sunny day.

 

Judith was still nestled in her arms, softly cooing against her chest. Beth hummed under her breath, not loud enough to be heard, just enough to keep the baby soothed.

The group had settled loosely across the porch. Maggie sat near Glenn on the steps, Sasha leaned against the railing, arms folded. Eugene stood uncomfortably in the middle, shifting from foot to foot.

 

“I posit this is a trap,” Eugene said abruptly, glancing around. “Too tidy, too…cul-de-sac.”

 

Abraham, seated in one of the wicker chairs, grunted. “You say that every time we find a place that doesn’t smell like feet and death.”

 

Eugene blinked. “Statistically speaking, a haven of this cleanliness has an 86% chance of harboring deep-seated dysfunction or cannibalism.”

 

“You made that up,” Rosita muttered.

 

“Entirely fabricated,” Eugene agreed. “Still stands to reason.”

 

Beth let their voices fade, her gaze drifting back to Daryl. She watched as his eyes scanned the street, the rooftops, the shadows, and the exits. “I don’t know what this place is,” she murmured. “But it’s…quiet.”

 

Daryl grunted. “Too quiet.”

 

“Still think this is a trap?” She asked softly.

 

His jaw shifted slightly. “Could be.”

 

Beth looked around, her voice barely above a whisper. “Or maybe it’s not.” She turned to him, watching his profile—the tight line of his mouth, the way his eyes never stayed still for long. But they landed on her then, softer now.

“Feels wrong,” he muttered. “All this, too…shiny.”

 

Beth smiled faintly. “Shiny’s not always bad.”

Daryl didn’t answer at first. His eyes flicked down the street again—watching, measuring, cataloging every shadow, every rooftop, every glint off a windowpane, and then he looked back at her. “You trust this?”

Beth considered that. “I want to.”

 

“That ain’t the same.”

 

“I know,” Beth adjusted her hold on Judith, resting her chin on the baby’s head. “I keep waitin’ for the catch,” she admitted. “For someone to slam the doors shut and say, ‘Gotcha! Back to hell now.’”

 

Daryl looked at her for a long moment, his thumb brushing absently against her knee where their legs touched. “Ain’t nobody slammin’ any doors on you,” he said. “Not while I’m breathin’.”

 

Beth reached out, gently brushing her fingers against his where they rested against her. “I know,” she said softly, lips curling into a weak smile. “I do want it to be real,” She admitted. “Even if it’s not, I just...I want to believe there’s somethin’ left.” Beth nodded down at Judith. “She deserves more than the road and food runs,” she whispered. “She deserves to hear birds in the morning, sleep in a bed, and know what a birthday cake is.”

 

He watched her, his expression unreadable at first, then something flickered across it—something old and wounded, then new and aching. “You do too,” he said.

 

Beth looked up.

 

Daryl’s hand slid over hers, rough fingers lacing gently between hers, grounding her the same way she always did for him without even trying. “You deserve all that,” he said, a bit firmer now. “Birds, beds…hell, even cake.”

 

Her throat tightened, and she squeezed his hand. “If this place is real,” she said, voice barely more than a breath, “I want that with you.”

 

Daryl opened his mouth, his grip tightening gently around hers like he was ready to say something he hadn’t quite figured out how to say before—something quiet and certain and only meant for her. He leaned in just a little, close enough that Beth could feel the warmth of his breath against her temple, close enough that her heart stuttered in her chest, waiting. His eyes stayed locked on hers, all the noise of the porch dimming in the space between them. But before the words could leave his mouth, the door creaked open behind them.

 

Everyone turned.

 

Rick stepped out onto the porch, his face unreadable for a heartbeat—eyes shaded, jaw tight. Then he exhaled slowly and nodded once. “She said yes,” he told them, voice calm but laced with disbelief. “We’re in.”

 

There was no cheer, no celebration—just a silence that cracked under the weight of relief. Maggie let out a breath like she’d been underwater, Glenn rested a hand on her back, Sasha leaned off the railing, stiff shoulders starting to fall, and even Eugene looked momentarily stunned into silence.

 

Beth’s lips parted, her breath caught in her throat as she turned fully toward Rick.

Rick glanced toward her, then toward Daryl, and something like quiet relief flickered through his eyes.

 

Beth looked down at Judith, whose lashes fluttered as she began to drift off against her chest. Her hand still rested in Daryl’s, wrapped in calloused fingers that had known too much loss and too little peace. For once, she didn’t feel like they were waiting for the world to collapse again. She looked back at Daryl and whispered, “Guess we go find out what real feels like.”

 

Daryl’s thumb brushed the back of her hand again, he didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to.

 

They stood, hand in hand, and followed the others inside. Together.

___________________________________

 

Beth squinted beneath the glare of the sun, standing with the others, as Deanna Monroe guided them toward a long folding table near the front steps of the armory building. Rick stood a few steps ahead of her, his hand resting warily near his sidearm like he wasn’t sure letting it go wouldn’t leave him gutted.

 

“We just ask that you check them in,” Deanna said, smiling with the kind of confidence only someone with clean water and electricity could muster. “Olivia will catalog everything. They’ll still be your guns—you can check them out any time you’re going out past the walls.”

 

Rick didn’t move.

 

Neither did Daryl.

 

Glenn stepped up first, gently easing his pistol from its holster and placing it in the tray Olivia offered. Maggie followed with a nod, her own weapon going in next. One by one, the group complied. Noah, Abraham, Eugene, Tara, Rosita…

 

Then it was Carol’s turn.

 

The silence broke as she approached the table with the expression of someone who’d just been asked to donate a kidney. Olivia raised her clipboard, clearly expecting one or maybe two handguns.

 

What followed could only be described as a slow-motion avalanche of absurdity.

 

Carol drew a pistol from her waistband and placed it in the tray. Then one from her ankle holster. Then from her other ankle. A small revolver from her boot, and from beneath her coat a second, third, and fourth pistol followed.

 

By the time she was done, the tray was full, and Olivia had gone slack-jawed behind her glasses.

 

Even Deanna blinked. “Wow.”

 

Carol smiled sweetly, eyes wide. “You can never be too careful.”

 

Beth stifled a laugh with her hand, even Rick cracked a tiny smile.

 

Daryl grunted. “Ain’t even sure how she was walkin’ with all that.”

 

Beth leaned in, lips near his shoulder. “She’s a magician.”

 

He didn’t smile, but the edge of his mouth twitched slightly, and she counted that as a win.

 

Deanna nodded toward Daryl next. “And you?”

 

Daryl scowled. “Keepin’ my crossbow.”

 

Olivia looked up nervously from her clipboard. “Um…I think that’s fine if he keeps it, it’s not exactly a quick draw weapon.”

 

Rick gave Daryl a short look, and Daryl gave an even shorter shrug.

 

Deanna sighed, smiling politely. “Alright, fair enough.”

 

Rick finally laid his gun down, slow and reluctant. Beth watched the way his hand hovered over it before pulling back. That weight was still with him, it was with all of them.

 

Then Olivia looked at her.

 

Beth hesitated. She wasn’t even sure why the gun tucked into her waistband made her hesitate so hard. It wasn’t anything special—just a small, black pistol they’d found in the drawer of a wrecked farmhouse off the highway, sometime after they’d gotten her back from Grady and before they ever heard the name Alexandria, she hadn’t even fired it outside of practice. It wasn’t some lucky charm and yet, as her fingers closed around it, slow and reluctant, she drew it out and held it in her palm like something fragile.

 

Daryl turned slightly beside her, noticing the pause. His gaze swept her face, then dropped to the pistol . Quiet and watchful, but his presence grounded her all the same.

 

Finally, Beth swallowed, gave a small sigh, and stepped forward, setting the weapon in the tray. “I never really used it anyways,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. She glanced up briefly at Olivia, then to Deanna who gave her an encouraging nod. Beth took a quiet step back, and felt Daryl’s hand settle for a second at her lower back. It was quick, barely a breath, but grounding all the same.

 

Deanna clapped her hands together. “Well. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

 

No one answered.

 

Chapter 22

Beth stood frozen in place for a moment. There were no groaning walkers in the distance, no wind dragging through burned-out trees, no blood caked on brick or rusted steel. Just birdsong, murmuring voices, and the low creak of wood settling on new houses.

 

Real houses. The kind with windows that weren’t boarded, with actual porches and clean curtains.

 

Aaron walked a few paces ahead with Rick, gesturing to two houses that sat side by side with each other. “We’ve cleared these for you. They’re both yours.”

 

Rick blinked, visibly thrown. “Both?”

 

“Your group’s large,” Aaron explained kindly. “We thought it’d be good for you all to spread out a little, get your bearings.”

 

Rick didn’t answer. He just nodded once, clearly still grappling with the idea of space and privacy and quiet.

 

Beth had already begun to drift from the group. Her boots scuffed the pavement as she moved up the walkway toward the white house—its wide front porch basking in golden light. There was a swing on the right side, and potted plants that were alive. She reached out and touched the porch rail like it might vanish if she blinked. A gust of wind made the swing creak gently, and suddenly, she was back at the farmhouse—The porch, Sun-drenched mornings with Daddy sitting at the table with his bible open, coffee in mason jars, laughter, music. She didn’t realize she was crying until a thumb brushed gently under her eye.

 

“Y’okay?”

 

Beth turned slightly.

 

Daryl stood a few feet behind her, arms now crossed. He looked uneasy in the clean streets—like someone had dropped a wild animal in the middle of a hotel lobby, but his eyes were soft when they landed on her.

 

Beth tried to laugh, but it came out choked. “It looks like home.”

 

He looked around. “Ain’t sure I trust that.”

 

“I don’t either,” she admitted. “But I want to.”

 

He shifted his weight, glanced at the door, then back to her. “We been runnin’ so long, forgot what standin’ still feels like.”

 

Beth nodded. “I used to dream about this. A house, a porch swing, safety…It always felt…impossible.”

 

Daryl looked away, jaw clenching. “Guess it ain’t impossible no more.”

 

She stepped closer, just enough to bump his shoulder with hers. “You’re not gonna leave me now, are you?” The words came out before she could second-guess them, soft but full of everything she was too scared to say. “You still want this? With me?”

 

His eyes flicked to hers, startled by the vulnerability in her voice and blinking as though he were stunned by her question. Then, he shook his head. “I ain’t leavin’ you,” he said quietly. “Ain’t goin’ anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

 

Beth smiled, teary but sure this time. “Wanna see inside?” she asked, her voice soft.

 

He hesitated, then gave a short nod. “Yeah, guess I do.”

 

And together, they stepped through the door and into the quiet house.

___________________________________

 

The sun had dipped low behind the roofs of the pristine, too-perfect houses, casting soft golden light on clean porches and manicured lawns.

 

It unsettled Rick more than anything he’d seen in the last two years. He stood just outside the pair of side-by-side homes they’d been “gifted,” arms folded across his chest, beard wild and eyes narrowed like a wolf trying to sniff out a trap. The rest of the group had started drifting toward the doors, glancing around like they were stepping into a mirage. But Rick? Rick was still deciding if this was bait.

 

Carol stood beside him, arms folded, playing the meek card for the townspeople but sharp as ever in private.

 

Daryl stood with them, chewing the inside of his cheek.

 

“They gave us two houses,” Rick muttered, more to himself than to them.

 

“Generous,” Carol replied dryly. 

 

“Splitting us up makes it easier if they wanna pick us off.” Rick nodded, jaw tight. “We sleep in one house, all of us.”

 

Carol inclined her head in agreement. “Let them think we’re settling in while we figure them out.”

 

Daryl’s silence this time was not a full agreement. His gaze had drifted to the porch across the lawn—where Beth stood just outside one of the doors, her silhouette painted gold by the sun. She had Judith in her arms, the baby asleep against her chest, and she was staring at the swing like it might start moving on its own.

 

Rick caught the look. “Something bothering you?”

 

Daryl scratched the back of his neck, avoiding both their eyes. “Place don’t smell like rot,” he muttered. “Ain’t seen a walker since we pulled in.”

 

“That’s not the only thing that’s bothering me,” Rick said, tone clipped.

 

Daryl looked over at Beth again. Her shoulders had begun to ease. She wasn’t letting her guard down—but she was breathing again. That had to count for something. He shifted, boots grinding against the clean concrete. “I dunno,” he muttered.

 

Carol arched a brow. “You trust it?”

 

“No,” Daryl said immediately. But then added, after a beat, “Don’t mean it can’t be real though.”

 

Rick looked at him sideways. “You getting soft on me?”

 

Daryl gave a half-smile—barely there, but present. “Beth’s breathin’ easier,” he said simply, shrugging one shoulder. “That’s enough to make me look twice.”

 

Rick didn’t answer right away. He just turned back to the house and exhaled hard through his nose.

 

Beth had stepped back inside now, the screen door shutting with a soft thump.

 

Daryl adjusted his grip on the strap of his crossbow. “I’ll do a sweep of walls,” he offered. “See em up close.”

 

“Take someone with you,” Rick said automatically.

 

“I’ll grab Noah,” Daryl said. “He’s got sharp eyes.”

 

Carol smirked slightly. “Careful. Too many kind faces around here might start growing on you.”

 

Daryl grunted and walked off without replying, his shoulders had loosened—just slightly. There was still a coil of suspicion wound in his gut, still a voice telling him too-good-to-be-true always meant it was. But that voice was quieter now because for the first time in too long, he’d watched Beth step into a house, not a shelter. He’d seen her stand in sunlight filled with something other than nerves.

 

And if that wasn’t worth hoping for, what the hell was?

 

By the time Daryl and Noah started their sweep, the late afternoon sun had sunk behind the rows of rooftops, casting long shadows across the pavement. The wall loomed tall and smooth beside them - steel plates welded tight and reinforced with scrap that was surprisingly solid. A far cry from even the chain link fence that had once surrounded the prison.

 

Daryl moved in silence, boots crunching softly along the gravel path that ran between the outermost houses and the wall. He kept his crossbow strapped to his back, fingers twitching now and then like muscle memory waiting for trouble.

 

Noah kept pace beside him, quieter than usual, eyes scanning upward toward the top of the barricade. “I don’t get it,” he said eventually, voice low. “This thing’s huge. How’d they build all this and stay off everyone’s radar?”

 

Daryl grunted. “Guess they got lucky.”

 

They reached the rear curve of the wall, where it bent behind the houses and dipped down toward what looked like an old drainage gulley. A few trees swayed in the breeze beyond the wall, but inside, everything was still.

 

Too still.

 

Daryl crouched and studied the seam between the ground and the steel. No gaps, no burrows, no bloodstains, it was secure.

 

Noah crouched beside him, elbow resting on one knee. “You believe it?”

 

Daryl didn’t answer right away. He tilted his head, listening—for groans, for branches snapping, for anything unnatural.

 

Nothing.

 

“Not yet,” he said finally. “But I’m tryin’.”

 

Noah looked at him, the younger man’s expression oddly serious for a beat. “You think we’ll stay?”

 

.Daryl leaned back on his heels, glancing up toward the sky streaked with orange and gold. “That ain’t up to me.”

 

“It’s not just up to Rick,” Noah said. “You and Beth? Y’all’ve been through hell, so have the rest of us.”

 

Daryl looked at him, the name sparking something soft in his eyes. “Beth deserves better than runnin’,” he said quietly. “I figure…if this place can give her even five minutes of peace, I owe it to her to see if it’s real.”

 

Noah nodded slowly, the corner of his mouth lifting. “She looked…lighter when she saw the porch swing.”

 

“Yeah,” Daryl said, almost to himself. “She did.”

 

They stood together in the golden light, wind rustling through the trees beyond the wall. There were no alarms, no screaming, just the odd chirp of birds and the creak of something metal in the breeze.

 

Finally, Daryl stepped back from the wall, brushing the dirt off his hands. “Come on, let’s finish the loop.”

 

“You think it’s safe?” Noah asked as they turned back toward the houses.

 

Daryl hesitated, then gave a small, tired nod. “Well, it ain’t bad.”

 

“Guess that’s the best we get,” Noah murmured.

 

Daryl didn’t disagree.

______________________________

Inside the second house, Beth walked slowly through the living room, the hardwood gleaming beneath her boots. It smelled like citrus and clean linen, like someone had scrubbed every corner to get ready for a magazine photo shoot. She cradled Judith on her hip, who was gnawing sleepily on her sleeve.

“It doesn’t even feel real,” Beth murmured.

 

Carl stood near the staircase, his hat in his hands, staring up at the chandelier like it might fall.

 

“Feels fake,” he said. “Like a trap set by Martha Stewart.”

 

Beth snorted. “You think they’re trying to trick us?” she asked.

 

Carl shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just been too long since we saw anything nice.”

 

Beth walked to the window, pushing the curtain back slightly. The sunlit street outside gleamed like this was heaven. Trim lawns, picket fences, and two bicycles leaned against a driveway. No guards, no blood, no bodies.

 

Judith let out a sleepy coo, and Beth kissed the top of her head.

 

Behind them, the front door creaked open, and Rick’s voice called in. “We’re staying together tonight.”

 

Beth turned, watching as Rick stepped into the foyer, silhouetted by the fading light.

 

Carl didn’t ask why.

 

Beth didn’t need to.

 

Carl stepped up beside her. “I like it better when we’re all in one place anyways. It just feels…safer.”

 

Beth glanced at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Same.”

 

Even in a world that looked like the old one, they hadn’t forgotten what it had taken to survive.

 

And none of them were ready to let their guard down just yet.

Chapter 23

The rest of the day was too quiet.

Not in the tense, gun-loaded way of the woods or the wary silence of ruined towns. This quiet was strange, the domestic sort. Birds chirped and somewhere a sprinkler ticked faintly against a manicured lawn. Daryl had watched it for fifteen minutes already, it felt like mockery. He sat on the porch steps, legs spread, elbows on his knees, crossbow leaning against the railing next to him. His sleeves were rolled up, dirt still smudged on his arms. He hadn’t washed off the road, didn’t feel like he’d earned it.

The front door creaked behind him.

Rick stepped out, beard wild, eyes still scanning like the fence might vanish any second as he leaned against the railing. “Lori and I used to drive through neighborhoods like this,” Rick murmured after a long silence. “We used to point at the houses, say which ones we’d want. Front porches, tire swings…dumb stuff.”

“Well,” Daryl muttered, voice rough, “Here we are.”

Rick’s mouth twitched like he might laugh, but nothing came out. After a moment, he patted Daryl’s shoulder. “I’ll be back.” The porch steps creaked beneath Rick’s weight one, two, three times - and then he was gone.

Daryl sat back and rubbed at the back of his neck. He didn’t hear her footsteps, just the shift of the porch boards beside him, light and careful.

Beth.

She moved slowly, like the weight of the day still clung to her shoulders. Her arms were folded over the shirt she hadn’t changed out of since they got through the gates. Her hair was still tied back loosely, a few stubborn strands escaping to brush her cheeks. She didn’t speak at first—just took the spot beside him, close enough for their knees to touch.

He flicked his eyes toward her as she sat. “Ain’t gotta hover,” he muttered, but his tone was fond, the edge dulled.

“I’m not,” Beth said, a small smile ghosting her lips. “Just figured if I was gonna sit somewhere, I’d rather sit next to you.”

Daryl gave a low grunt of acknowledgment, his knee gently nudging against hers.


“Deanna said there’s a doctor here,” Beth said after a moment, her gaze forward. “Said he could take a look at my stitches, change the bandages, make sure everything’s healing right. She said he’s real gentle.”


He didn’t look at her, but his brow furrowed slightly. “You gonna?”


Beth hesitated, fingers tugging lightly at the edge of her sleeve. “I should,” she said. Her tone was breezy, but Daryl could hear the tightness beneath it. “I mean, I will. I just…” She trailed off, her eyes searching the street as if it might offer the right words. “It just feels…weird, letting someone I don’t know touch me, after everything.”


Daryl’s jaw worked, his voice low. “Ain’t nobody touchin’ you unless you say so.”

She looked at him, voice soft. “I know,” she then gave a small, bashful laugh, “I know, it’s stupid. I’ll go - It’s probably getting gross under there.”

Daryl turned to look at her then, properly. “Ain’t stupid.” he reached over, his hand finding hers. His grip was firm but careful. “I’ll go with you.”

Beth looked at him, startled for a second, then she softened. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he said, cutting her off before she could downplay it. “Ain’t gonna let no one hurt you.”

Her expression wavered just a little before she smiled, small and honest. “Thank you.”

They settled into a quiet stretch, not uncomfortable, just thoughtful.

“I keep thinkin’ about my dad,” Beth said after a while, gaze drifting to the houses in the distance. “How he’d smile if he saw this place. The gardens, the porch lights, people waving to each other like nothing ever happened. He’d call it a miracle.”

Daryl nodded slowly. “He’d say you deserved it.”

Beth glanced sideways at him, her voice softer now. “What about you?”

He didn’t answer right away, he just stared out at the road, jaw shifting slightly. “Ain’t used to thinkin’ I deserve much.”

“Well,” She clasped his hand with both of hers now. “Maybe that’s something we can work on.”

Daryl looked down at their joined hands, then back at her.

She smiled, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Even just a little.” A long breath passed between them before Beth tilted her head. “You think you can learn to sleep in a bed again?”

Daryl snorted, shaking his head. “Dunno, might have to ease into it.”

Beth smirked, her thumb brushing lightly against his. “Well, I can help with that.”

Daryl blinked, caught off guard for just a second—but then that rare, lopsided grin tugged at his mouth. It wasn’t much, but it was real, and it was hers. “I’ll hold you to that.” The porch light flickered, casting a halo around her hair and for the first time since they arrived, Daryl felt truly at ease.

________________________________________________________________

The house was not only clean, but new.

That was the first thing Beth noticed as she eased Judith down onto a pile of couch cushions and bundled blankets in the center of the living room. The furniture barely creaked, the air didn’t smell like smoke or sweat or blood, and the windows didn’t rattle in the wind. It felt like a museum exhibit on what life was like before the fall.

The rest of the group had gravitated into the room after dark. They hadn’t even needed to say it out loud—no one wanted to sleep alone yet. Not in strange beds and not under roofs they hadn’t built. Glenn was on the floor with Maggie, their backs to the wall, Sasha leaned against the arm of the couch with her legs drawn up, eyes never really closing. Abraham had claimed the recliner, one boot off and one on, snoring softly, and Rosita sat near the stairs, her head tilted to the side but alert.

Beth tucked the blanket more snugly around Judith, brushing the baby’s cheek with her fingers. She straightened just in time to catch sight of Daryl by the window.

He hadn’t sat all night. He just stood there like a sentry, arms crossed, back straight, his crossbow leaning close within reach. His eyes scanned the darkness like everything might collapse at any second.

Beth crossed the room to him slowly, her steps soft. She knew better than to crowd him when he was wound this tight. “You should rest,” she murmured, touching his forearm with gentle familiarity.

He didn’t look at her right away, but he shifted, letting his elbow graze hers. “I’m fine.”

Beth’s gaze followed his to the darkness outside the window. Porch lights glowing down the street, neatly trimmed grass, flowerbeds, houses with curtains still drawn like nothing had ever gone wrong out there. “It’s a lot,” she said quietly. “I know it’s strange. Too quiet, too clean, but…that doesn’t mean it’s bad, Daryl.”

He exhaled through his nose, a sound more tired than skeptical. Not quite yes, but not quite no.

Beth leaned her head lightly against his shoulder, not asking for more. She wasn’t trying to fix it, just letting him know she was there. She felt him exhale slowly, the tension in his body easing. They stood that way for a moment, his warmth seeping into her side, the silence between them familiar and grounding.

Then Judith stirred softly in her sleep, and Beth gently stepped away, brushing Daryl’s hand as she passed. She knelt again to check the blanket, eyes flicking to the sleeping forms around the room.

A knock broke the stillness.

The group tensed instantly—even behind walls, the instinct remained sharp. Beth saw Rosita sit up straighter and Glenn’s hand move instinctively toward the knife at his belt.

Rick stood first, cautious but calm, and opened the door.

Deanna Monroe stood on the porch, smiling kindly as she stepped in. “Sorry,” she whispered. “Didn’t mean to startle anyone, just wanted to stop by before lights out. See how everyone was settling in.”

Rick offered a nod. “We’re stayin’ close tonight. Just for now.”

“I figured,” Deanna said. Her gaze swept the room, taking in the people on the floor, the walls they hugged, the weariness in their bones. Her eyes softened. “You all stay close like this a lot?”

“We didn’t have a choice,” Glenn said from the floor.

Deanna smiled thoughtfully. “No, I suppose not. But it’s still beautiful. The way you all stick together. Different people, different stories, but a family, still.”

Beth glanced at Maggie, who was already watching her with a soft expression.

Rick’s face was unreadable, but his hand briefly grazed Carl’s shoulder where he sat near the stairs.

Deanna’s eyes landed on Daryl next—still standing at the window, gruff and silent. “And Mr. Dixon,” she said, tilting her head. “Still trying to figure you out.”

Beth smirked without thinking and Daryl glanced at her sideways, catching the curve of her lips. She gave him a small, playful shrug. “He grows on you,” she said lightly.

Daryl’s ears reddened slightly, but he didn’t argue.

Deanna smiled wider. “I believe that.” Then her gaze moved to Rick. “You look different. The beard was impressive—but without it, you almost look…” she tilted her head. “Hopeful.”

Rick didn’t answer right away, but something in his posture softened just slightly.

Deanna nodded once, satisfied, and made her way back to the door.

“You’re welcome here,” she said to them all. “And I hope…when you’re ready, you’ll feel that.” Then she was gone, leaving the door to click gently shut behind her.

A hush fell again—but it wasn’t sharp anymore. The silence was softer, like a breath held just a little less tight.

 

Beth turned from Judith and walked back to Daryl. He was still at the window, but his stance had changed. Less rigid and more uncertain. She stepped back to his side, their bodies brushing as she leaned into him a little. “C’mon.” Beth whispered, voice low and only for him as she threaded her fingers through his. 

He hesitated for only a breath, then he let her tug him down beside her on the floor, close to Judith and the rest of their group. The room was dim, but not dark.


It was still.


Safe.

Beth leaned into him fully, curling against his side and he slouched back just a little, enough for her to rest comfortably against him. Neither of them said anything to each other, they didn’t need to.

Judith stirred nearby but didn’t wake.

Beth closed her eyes for a second and let herself feel the room. The clean air, the warmth, the nearness of people she loved. And for the first time in a long time, she let herself lean into the possibilities, let herself hope—just a little.

Just enough.

Chapter 24

Notes:

Hey all! Releasing this week's chapters a little early because my next three shifts this week is a little rough, haha.

Enjoy!

Daryl woke before the sun.

It wasn’t a jolt like the ones that used to rattle him from sleep. There was no echo of walker groans or gunfire, no sudden lurch of panic or Rick barking out hurried orders. Just a slow blink into soft gray light that slipped in through sheer curtains and crept quiet over the floorboards, catching on the shapes around the room—figures wrapped in blankets and sprawled across the floor. It took him a second to remember where they were. The scent of wood polish, the creak of the floorboards under someone’s shifting weight across the room. Not a forest floor, not the back of a truck or a barn loft.

A house.

Alexandria.

The house was still—not silent, as he could hear Abraham snoring softly in the recliner, a gentle rustle as someone shifted, and a bird somewhere outside testing its voice—but still. The kind of still that felt…settled.

Then he registered the warmth that clung onto him.

Beth was curled into his side, her arm draped loosely across his chest, and her head tucked under his jaw where it seemed to fit perfectly. Her hair was a little tangled, breath steady and warm against his throat, one of her legs had slipped between his sometime in the night, and her fingers were half-curled into the fabric of his shirt like she'd needed something to hold onto.

Daryl didn't move, he couldn’t. He was transfixed by the curve of her cheek against his chest, and the way a piece of her hair had fallen across her face, catching the light. She looked younger like this, softer. No worry between her brows, no tension in her shoulders. He’d seen her cry, seen her bleed, seen her furious and brave and wrecked by grief. But this...this was something different.

Peace looked good on her.

It did something to him, knocked something loose inside. Daryl swallowed thickly and let his hand drift down to her back, resting there, fingers spreading just enough to feel her breathe as his eyes scanned the room.

Rick was a shadow in the corner, legs stretched out and hand resting near Carl’s foot with Michonne curled up in front of them. Glenn and Maggie hadn’t moved all night. Somewhere near the stairs, he could hear Rosita shifting in her sleep, and Judith slept like she had no idea the world had ever gone to hell.

No one had moved much since lights-out, n o one had to.

Daryl turned his head back to Beth. The sun touched her hair now, casting a gold sheen across the pale waves and he brushed a bit of it back with careful fingers, barely grazing her skin.

Beth shifted slightly, and Daryl froze—thinking he might have woken her, but she only hummed the smallest, sweetest sound in her sleep, and nestled in closer.

He watched her a moment longer, and for a second, just a second, he let himself believe this could be it, that maybe they weren’t just borrowing time anymore. That maybe, somehow, this could hold. Daryl didn’t let himself think too far ahead, didn’t dare picture a week from now, a month, or a year. But this as it was right now? Waking up with her warm beside him, in a place where they weren’t running for their lives?

That was something.

Maybe this place wouldn’t last. Maybe the walls would fall, and the quiet would break, and the old world would come clawing back like it always did.

But right now, she was safe. They were all safe.

He had her in his arms, and this house didn’t smell like rot.

Beth murmured something in her sleep, and he let his hand slide up to the nape of her neck, his thumb grazing softly over her hair.

Yeah, he thought. Maybe this could work.

Chapter 25

Beth stirred slowly, her nose brushing the curve of Daryl’s neck as she blinked into the filtered morning light. She could feel him before she registered anything else—solid and warm beneath her, his breathing steady but…aware.
 

Awake.

A tiny hum left her throat, sleep still clinging to her voice. “You watchin’ me, Dixon?” She didn’t lift her head yet, just felt the low rumble of his chest beneath her cheek as he huffed, the smallest, guilty-sounding sound in return.

“Might be,” he muttered.

Beth smiled into his skin, then finally tilted her head back enough to meet his eyes. He was already looking at her, blue eyes soft and unreadable in the morning quiet. There was something different in his face, unshielded, unrushed. “Could’ve said somethin’ instead of starin’ like I’m a sunrise.”

His brow twitched, the corner of his mouth almost pulling into a smirk. “Ain’t never known a sunrise that snored.”

Beth huffed and lightly smacked his chest. “I do not snore.”

Daryl just shrugged, the motion shifting both of them slightly. “Ain’t complainin’.”

Beth studied him for a beat longer, her smile lingering even as the air between them shifted, growing heavier. His arm was still around her waist, and her palm had slid up to rest against his chest sometime in the night. She could feel the steady drum of his heart beneath it. Beth softened a little more against him, her voice quieter now. “It’s nice,” she murmured, eyes flicking toward the curtains. “Wakin’ up in a place that’s warm…clean. Safe.”

Daryl’s eyes didn’t leave hers. “Yeah.”

Beth shifted, just enough to close the small space between them, her leg sliding slightly over his, and his breath caught—not obvious, but enough. Her gaze flicked up to his, and the playful glint returned. “Think they’ve got hot water here?”

Daryl blinked. “What?”

Beth’s smile curved. “You heard me.”

His ears flushed pink, a familiar and endearing reaction that never failed to make her chest tighten. His eyes darted toward the rest of the group—still asleep, still bundled together across the living room.

Beth leaned in, her voice dropping just above a whisper. “Don’t tell me you forgot what a shower feels like.”

“I didn’t forget,” he mumbled, clearly flustered now.

She bit her lip, clearly enjoying herself. “You think it works?” she asked again, her tone lower this time. “The hot water.”

Daryl swallowed, eyes flicking to her lips, then back to her eyes. “Guess we could find out.”

Beth grinned, slow and teasing. “Yeah,” she said, brushing her thumb over his collarbone. “I think we should, just in case.”

And for the first time since they stepped foot into Alexandria, Daryl let himself smile back, a real smile.

It was quiet and it was private.

But it was real.

______________________________

Beth waited until the faint rustle of Abraham’s snoring confirmed the others were still out cold. Then, with a conspiratorial glance, she crawled onto her feet, smoothing the hem of her shirt down as she turned back to Daryl. “You comin’ or not?” she whispered, her voice laced with challenge.

Daryl stared up at her for half a second, then grunted and pushed himself up with a quiet sigh, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “Ain’t gonna be your lookout while you take all the hot water.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Who said I wasn’t sharin’?”

He shot her a look—half smirk, half warning—as he followed her through the hushed living room. She padded barefoot ahead of him, moving carefully past Glenn and Maggie, stepping over Eugene who lay sprawled out on the floor. When they reached the hallway, the door creaked just a little as Beth opened it.

The hall was narrow, lined with pristine walls and framed pictures—school photos, family portraits, untouched by the world outside. It smelled faintly like lavender and laundry sheets, something leftover from a life that wasn’t theirs.

She paused halfway up the stairs, glancing over her shoulder. “You sure about this?”

Daryl was close behind now, a step or two below her, eyes locked on hers like he couldn’t look anywhere else. “You ain’t?”

Beth turned fully then, her fingers trailing down the banister. She stepped closer to him, her eyes glittering in the early light. “I’m sure I want a hot shower,” she said innocently. “What happens in it is up to you.”

He stared at her like she’d just dared him to move, then he did.

By the time they reached the bathroom at the end of the hall, Beth’s pulse was thudding in her ears. She opened the door slowly, flicked the light switch and smiled when the bulbs overhead flickered to life. The bathroom was almost too normal. Cream-colored tile, a clean mirror that didn’t have cracks, and a towel that was hung neatly over the rail. A basket of shampoo and soaps sat by the sink, untouched. 

Daryl stepped in behind her, pulling the door shut gently. He leaned against it, arms crossed. “Kinda feels like breakin’ in someplace.”

Beth moved first, looking over her shoulder with a playful smile. “That’s why we ought to start breaking it in, so it feels like home.” She turned the knob of the shower experimentally. It sputtered, then gurgled, and finally, to both their surprise, a stream of water poured from it with a soft hiss. She laughed in disbelief, eyes wide with something like wonder. “Hot,” she whispered, holding her fingers beneath the stream as it warmed. “It’s actually hot.”

Daryl watched her, his eyes traced her every movement, the way she reveled in the joy of warm water, and it left him a little breathless. He couldn’t stop himself from admiring her, and the way she seemed to bloom under the comfort of something so simple, so normal, made his heart thud harder in his chest. It took him a moment to find his words, his mouth feeling a little dry. “You...you sure it’s not too hot?”

Beth’s smile deepened. “It’s perfect,” she said, her voice quiet, intimate. She let the water cascade down her arms before stepping back a little

Daryl took a small step forward. “Guess I’ll take your word for it,” he murmured, his voice hushed, low.

Beth’s smile softened again, her eyes bright with something that made Daryl’s heart stutter for a moment. She stopped in front of him, her bare toes brushing his boots. Her fingers found the hem of his shirt and tugged lightly. “You still gonna stand there like a guard dog?”

“Maybe,” he muttered, but his voice was hoarse, and he didn’t stop her when her fingers slid higher under the fabric.

She pressed a kiss to his jaw, feather-light. “Or maybe…” another kiss, just below his ear, “...you should see if that water’s really as hot as it feels out here.”

He grunted softly, but he moved.

Beth stepped back with a grin and turned toward the mirror, already peeling her shirt off as steam began to fog the glass. The warm mist curled around her skin, adding a dewy shine to it. Her movements were slow, deliberate. 

Daryl's gaze followed her, his breath shallow as he stood there, frozen for a moment, fingers tightening around the hem of his own shirt.

She caught his gaze in the mirror, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “What, you just gonna watch?” she asked, her voice light with a playful edge. “Or do you need help?”

He blinked, his heart hammering in his chest. “Help with what?”

Beth chuckled and turned toward him fully, her shirt now on the floor. “With getting you out of that shirt,” she said, raising an eyebrow as she took a step closer. “Unless you’ve forgotten how to undress yourself.” her fingers found his shirt buttons with playful intent.

“No,” Daryl snapped a little too quickly, and then immediately winced at his tone. He cleared his throat again. “I got it.”

Beth chuckled softly and took another step closer to him. “You sure? You seem a little…distracted.”

Daryl’s face went red, but he couldn’t stop his mouth from running. “I’m not distracted! I just…” He trailed off, cursing under his breath when his fingers finally popped the button free. He yanked the shirt over his head, the fabric catching on his arms for a second before it finally fell to the floor. “There,” he muttered, trying to sound casual, but it came out way less smooth than he intended.

“You okay?” she asked softly, voice barely audible over the stream.

Daryl nodded once. “Yeah.” Then, after a beat he brought his forehead down to hers, eyes shut and exhaling deep. His voice was gravel-soft. “Just…ain’t never done this before, not like this.”

Beth’s smile was small, but warm. “Me neither.”

He blinked, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. “Beth…”

“I know,” she said gently. “But I want it to be with you.”

That honesty leveled them. No pretenses, no expectations, just two people learning each other in the quietest, most vulnerable way.

Before she could say anything else, Daryl’s hand shot to her back, pulling her toward him where her lips found his in a deep and demanding kiss. He kissed her hard enough to make them both stumble a little against the tile, his hands moved to her hips, pushing her jeans down with urgency. Daryl’s heart was pounding, but it wasn’t out of fear—it was the kind of pulse he had never felt before, filled with need and anticipation. As the fabric slid down, Beth stepped out of them with a quick, fluid motion, her own hands were equally frantic as she freed him from his jeans, the sounds of their hurried movements muffled by the running water.

Beth moaned softly against his lips, urging him on. “Daryl...” she murmured, her voice a mix of desire and something deeper. She tilted her chin up and kissed him long, slow, and open-mouthed. 

Daryl responded in kind, deepening the kiss until it was something heavier, wetter, and full of the kind of heat they rarely let themselves want, let alone touch. His hands, no longer uncertain, moved quickly, slipping beneath the waistband of her underwear as he kicked off his boxers with one swift movement. “God, Beth…” he muttered, his voice thick with desire. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

She broke away from the kiss, her voice husky with a toothy grin. “I think I have an idea.” Beth pulled him back in, her tongue teasing against his and her touch leaving trails of fire everywhere. Beth gasped into his mouth as he lifted her effortlessly, guiding her with precision, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. “Daryl…” she breathed, her hands gripping his shoulders.

“I’ve got you,” he growled, his voice low and rough as he adjusted his grip on her. His fingers trailed down her back, feeling the heat of her skin beneath his fingertips, and the sudden surge of need in him was overpowering. He backed them into the shower, letting the water pour over both of them. The world outside disappeared as the heady haze of the water closed around them. When their mouths finally separated, Daryl’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, forehead meeting hers as he pushed her lightly back against the shower wall. “Are y’sure?” he muttered, his voice rough, and filled with a mixture of desire and vulnerability. He needed to hear it again, needed her to confirm what they both already knew.

Beth nodded, her own voice trembling, “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

That was all he needed.

They moved like water—slow in some places, warm and fluid in others. There was still an edge of clumsiness—fingers fumbling, bodies shifting in awkward angles, but neither of them seemed to mind. If anything, it only made the moment feel more real, more raw. Every uncoordinated movement was just another step in the rhythm they were finding together.

Beth smiled against his lips as he kissed down her neck, her fingers running through his hair. “You sure you know what you’re doing?” she teased.

Daryl’s hand slid over her back, his breath shaky as his lips trailing along the curve of her shoulder. “I’m winging it,” he murmured.

Then, halfway through, just as Beth leaned back to kiss his jaw again, Daryl froze. His grip on her tightened as his senses sharpened, a sudden realization hitting him. “The door,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire but laced with concern.

Beth blinked at him, a breathless smile tugging at her lips. “It’s locked,” she said, her voice still ragged from their kisses.

“Yeah, but...” Daryl’s hand moved, groping blindly past the shower curtain until he heard the satisfying click of the lock turning again. “Ain’t takin’ no chances with Eugene out there.”

Beth burst into a fit of quiet laughter, the sound rich and throaty as she shifted her hips against his, making him groan. She tried to hold in her laughter, her mouth curling into a grin. “You’re ridiculous,” she whispered, though her tone was full of affection.

“Just cautious,” he grumbled, his lips now trailing down the column of her throat, kissing her soft skin as she leaned her head back, her fingers running through his damp hair. His voice was thick with need, but there was a smirk on his lips now.

And then she pulled him back into her, kissing him with an intensity that wiped away all his thoughts. His hands gripped her tighter as the world around them disappeared once again, leaving only the heat between their bodies, the feel of her against him, and the steady rhythm of their movements.

Notes:

Well, well, well -

I guess you could say their first morning in Alexandria was quite steamy!

Chapter 26

Rick woke with a start, his eyes squinting against the early morning light creeping through the windows. The unfamiliar sounds of Alexandria were muffled, and for the first time in a long while, he actually felt...rested. The tension in his body had eased, and the weight of constant vigilance seemed to lift, even if just for a moment. He blinked a few times and sat up slowly, stretching and glancing around. Everyone else was still down for the count. Carl snored softly near him, and Michonne was still curled up on the floor, still deep in the grips of sleep. Glenn and Maggie were tangled together near the fireplace, and Abraham looked like he’d been punched by sleep itself, mouth hanging open. Sasha hadn’t moved all night, just a silhouette against the couch armrest.

Rick rubbed his jaw, already missing the beard.

Then he paused.

There was something...off.

Beth and Daryl were gone.

His brow furrowed, just slightly. Not gone gone—he could hear the faint clink of cups. Which meant they were... up ? Rick stood slowly and padded down the short hallway toward the kitchen, not bothering to be quiet.

And there they were.

Beth sat at the small round table, legs folded beneath her, sipping from a mug of tea. Her hair was still damp, the ends curling slightly as it hung around her shoulders, cheeks still flushed from either warmth or...something else.

Daryl was beside her, hunched over a mug of black coffee, crossbow leaning by the back door. He looked groomed , almost like he’d taken extra care this morning, which Rick immediately clocked as unusual .

They were...smiling.

Beth was twirling her spoon in her tea and giggling under her breath like Daryl had said something funny. Daryl, for his part, was barely smirking—but there was something in his eyes, something that Rick recognized.

Rick stood there a second longer than necessary.

Beth spotted him first, greeting him with a smile. “Morning,” she said, far too brightly for someone who had spent the last several months covered in grime and sweat.

Daryl nodded once. “Hey.”

Rick’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “You two are up early.”

Beth shrugged, innocent as ever. “We’re early risers,”

Daryl grunted. “S’quiet in the morning.”

Rick glanced over his shoulder, almost expecting to see steam rising from the bathroom upstairs. His eyes followed the fading marks of wet footprints that led to the table, and the pieces clicked together in his mind. “Water still hot?” he asked dryly, giving them a knowing look.

Beth didn’t blink. “Think so,” she replied smoothly, her smile never wavering.

Rick gave a slow nod, trying to keep the tone casual. “Huh.” Without a second thought, he made his way to the counter, pouring himself a mug of coffee from the freshly brewed pot. He wasn’t about to make things awkward.


Whatever, they’re adults.

With the coffee in hand, Rick leaned against the counter, taking a slow sip. The warmth of the drink settled him, and for a moment, he simply let the quiet of the house wash over him. Alexandria was a strange place, and despite the peace, Rick couldn’t quite shake the nagging feeling that something was waiting to go wrong, like they were all stuck in some woolly dream that was on the verge of ending. He looked over his shoulder briefly at Beth and Daryl, who had returned to their quiet conversation. He wasn’t really all that surprised, he was aware of what had been going on between them for some time now. It wasn’t his business, and it didn’t need to be. Rick sighed, feeling the weight of the world settle around him. Today, he was content to just let things unfold

__________________________________________________________

It was a full hour after Rick had pieced it together, and firmly decided to pretend he hadn’t, when the living room began to stir.

There were groans, stretching, and blankets rustling. Abraham sat up like someone had slapped him, groggy and blinking. Maggie mumbled something about smelling coffee, and Michonne was in the process of gently shaking Carl awake.

Carol was the last to rise, but as always, she was the first to notice everything . She stood with a slow stretch and surveyed the room, the group still half-asleep and tousled with bed hair, and then…her eyes narrowed.

Beth was in the kitchen, dressed and laughing. Her hair was down, her skin was dewy, and she looked like a woman who had either slept twelve hours straight or had been kissed breathless against clean tile.

Daryl was beside her, looking far too relaxed . Shirt buttoned, hair not greasy, and sitting.

Carol’s eyes flicked to the mug in Beth’s hands, and the flush in her cheeks. Then to Daryl’s neck, where a faint red mark peeked out just above the collar of his shirt. A slow, delighted smile crept across Carol’s face. “Well, well.”

Daryl immediately tensed, like a dog caught chewing up someone’s boot.

Beth glanced back, still sweet as ever. “Morning, Carol.”

Carol tilted her head, leaning in the doorway with her arms crossed. “Good morning, sunshine. You two look well-rested. ”

Beth blinked. “We are.”

“Mhm, and washed. ” Carol sniffed dramatically, eyes twinkling. “You even smell like lavender soap.”

Beth nearly choked on her tea, and Daryl stiffened further, like if he stayed very still, maybe she’d stop talking.

She didn’t.

“I mean, I woke up with dirt in my hair and blood on my sleeve,” Carol continued cheerfully, walking toward them. “Meanwhile, you two look like you just stepped out of a goddamn catalog. Did you find a spa in the garage?”

Daryl muttered something that sounded like, “Ain’t funny,” and stared hard at his coffee.

Beth, bright pink now, smiled into her mug.

Carol leaned in closer. “So, which one of you figured out the hot water first?”

Beth started to answer, but Daryl cut in flatly: “It was her.”

Carol raised a brow. “Was it?”

Beth glanced at Daryl, then gave Carol a sly smile. “I asked a question. He just...followed.”

Carol chuckled. “Sure he did.”

Daryl shot her a glare that could’ve scared off a walker, but Carol was immune. She clapped him on the shoulder as she passed by him. “Relax, Romeo. I’m not gonna tell anyone.” she paused. “Yet.”

Beth laughed softly while Daryl groaned.

Carol poured herself a cup of coffee, grinning into it like she had just witnessed the juiciest gossip of the decade. “Y’know,” she added, looking over her shoulder as she sipped, “if you’re gonna start sneaking around at dawn, maybe don’t come back lookin’ like a Hallmark couple. Subtlety ain’t your strong suit.”

Beth giggled again and Daryl muttered something that sounded like “Jesus Christ.”

Rick passed through just then and, without making eye contact, held up a finger toward Carol. “Don’t. I’m pretending I don’t know anything.”

Carol beamed at him. “Oh, don’t worry, Rick,” she said sweetly. “I’ll pretend too.” Then she winked at Beth, who looked like she might crawl under the table, and returned to her coffee with a smug little hum.

Chapter 27

Notes:

Got some rough shifts coming up again on Friday sooooo everyone gets the next two chapters a bit early this week!

Beth sat on the porch swing, one leg tucked under her, the other gently pushing the swing in slow, idle arcs. The quiet creak of the chains was the only sound for a while, aside from the occasional murmur of voices through open windows. The congresswoman-turned-community leader had called them all to the house a bit ago, carrying a leather-bound notebook under one arm. Interviews, she called them, not interrogations. Just a chance to understand who they all were, what they could do, how they’d fit in. It had become something of a rotation. Deanna had started calling members of their group over one by one. Michonne, then Glenn, Noah, Tara, Carl with Judith, Maggie, Rosita...They’d disappear behind the door of her abode and eventually re-emerge looking thoughtful, guarded, or occasionally a little surprised. No one talked much about what was asked.

Now it was down to just a few.

Abraham, who was leaning against the porch rail like he didn’t have a care in the world, was twirling a blade of grass between his fingers like it was a cigar. Eugene sat on a bench behind him, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt and muttering something about sociological compatibility metrics. Daryl leaned silent and still against the porch rail on the other side, a cigarette between his fingers.

And her.

Beth watched it all unfold. Everyone going in, being seen, being questioned, and being asked to explain themselves like they were applying for jobs or trying to prove they were people worth trusting. She exhaled quietly, her thumb now worrying the frayed edge of her jeans. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk, she just didn’t know what she’d say . There was no neat answer to the question of who she was anymore. Was she a singer? A nurse? A survivor? A girl who’d lived through a hospital that turned people into currency? A girl who’d lost her daddy in front of her and then kept going? Even she didn’t know the answer, and what if the answer she gave wasn’t enough?

Noah sat beside her, his elbows resting on his thighs. “You okay?”

His voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she glanced sideways at him with a weak smile. “Yeah.”

Noah leaned over slightly and gave her a soft nudge with his shoulder. “She’s not scary,” he said, smiling.

“Easy for you to say.” Beth chuckled. “You’ve got charm.”

“So do you.” Noah smirked. “Seriously though, I told her about Grady, and how you helped me. She knows you’re good.”

Beth’s brows pulled together, eyes softening. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah,” Noah said. “I did.”

Beth didn’t respond, a flicker of movement drawing her gaze across the porch
.

Daryl was still leaning against the rail, but his eyes had shifted, trained on her. He didn’t say anything, he never really had to.

She met his gaze for a moment and gave the smallest shake of her head—like she was trying to wave it off, like she didn’t want him worrying. But his brow furrowed slightly, fidgeting with the cigarette.

The door creaked again.

Rosita stepped out into the sunlight, nodding once toward Deanna, who stood in the doorway with her notebook. She looked around the porch, scanning who was left, and then her gaze landed on Beth. “Beth,” Deanna greeted warmly as she approached, hair neatly tucked and a polite but watchful smile on her face. “We’ve had a chance to get to know a few of your people already, Rick and Maggie both speak very highly of you. Would you mind stepping in with me for a few minutes just to talk?”

Beth froze. Her fingers clutched at the hem of her shirt without thinking and she gave a mechanical nod in response. She started to rise, brushing her palms nervously against her jeans as Noah gave her a steadying and encouraging glance from behind, but before she could move any further—

“She ain’t goin’ in there alone,” Daryl had moved, closing the distance between them in a few quiet strides. He didn’t say anything until he was close enough for his presence to be felt like weight in the air.

Deanna paused, blinking in faint surprise. “It’s just a conversation, nothing formal”

Daryl didn’t budge. “She still ain’t goin in alone.”

Deanna’s brow lifted, amused but not mocking. Her gaze moved between them—Beth, still seated, her fingers curled tightly into the fabric at her knees; Daryl, standing over her like a shield. Deanna looked between them for a moment longer, something dawning in her expression—a curiosity that settled into something warmer. “Well, this is a first, a joint interview.”

Beth’s heart jumped a little, and Daryl stood there like he was daring someone to argue.

Deanna’s head tilted. “You two seem…close.”

Daryl shifted, his jaw tight.

A knowing smile pulled at the corners of Deanna’s mouth. “Are you together?”

She opened her mouth—but it was Daryl who answered. “We’re somethin’.” he said, voice gruff but steady. His eyes never left Deanna’s, but his hand brushed the side of Beth’s wrist, casual but sure.

Beth felt her lips twitch upwards without her permission. She reached for Daryl’s hand without really thinking and her fingers gently slipped into his, his hand tightening around hers with a small squeeze.

Deanna studied them for a beat longer, before she nodded. “Alright, come on then. Let’s talk.”

Beth cast one more glance back at Noah, who gave her a subtle thumbs up, before she followed after Deanna. She didn’t look at Daryl again, but she felt him there, right beside her.

And maybe that was what made her brave enough to walk inside.

—————-—————-—————-—————-—————-—————-—————-

The sun had shifted slightly by the time they stepped off Deanna’s porch, casting long shadows on the street ahead. Their boots scuffed the sidewalk softly as Beth and Daryl walked side by side in the direction of the infirmary.

It was quiet for a while.

Not awkward, just...quiet.

Beth’s fingers brushed against Daryl’s as they walked, not quite holding his hand, but not pulling away either. Her other hand idly toyed with the edge of her shirt hem, like she was sorting something out in her head.

Daryl’s shoulders were tight, not like he was tense from the walk or the meeting, but like he was chewing on something too, jaw working as he glanced at her from the corner of his eye and then quickly looking away again.

The air in Alexandria felt different now. Maybe it was the sunlight, or the breeze, or just the silence that didn’t carry the threat of moans or gunfire. Maybe it was the fact that she’d woken up warm, and tangled up in someone else's limbs instead of shivering through a watch shift with one eye open. But Beth felt it like something inside her had shifted. They walked side by side down the quiet street, past the neat porches and trimmed hedges, toward the house they were using as an infirmary. Just another house, really—but someone had posted a handwritten sign in the window and cleared out space inside for supplies and equipment and whatever medicine they still had left.

“You okay?” he asked eventually, voice low.

Beth nodded. “Yeah, she wasn’t so bad.”

They walked a little more in silence. Her gaze wandered to the house just up ahead, but her thoughts kept circling back to earlier, but not just the interview.

To the porch.

To what he said.

To what it meant.

“Hey,” Beth said gently, slowing her pace a little.

Daryl made a soft grunt in acknowledgment but didn’t meet her eyes right away.

“Back there…with Deanna, what you said.”

He slowed, his boots scuffing faintly against the sidewalk. His brows knit low as he glanced at her, wary now, like he thought maybe he’d done something wrong. “What’d I say?” he muttered.

“You said we’re something.” She paused, then nudged her shoulder lightly into his arm. “What did that mean to you?”

Daryl blinked, like the question caught him off guard even though it really shouldn’t have. His jaw shifted. He scratched the back of his neck with a huff. “You already know.”

“I wanna hear it anyway.”

He kicked at a stray stone before muttering, “Ain’t real good at sayin’ stuff like that, Beth.”

“I know,” she said gently, giving his arm an encouraging squeeze.”Can you try?”

Daryl’s mouth opened, then shut again. He let out a breath through his nose, eyes fixed on the ground ahead. “You ain’t just…” He paused, jaw working. “You ain’t just someone I care about ‘cause we been through some shit. You matter to me, Beth. Not ‘cause I got to protect you, or ‘cause you need me to, or what we did this mornin’ or before that. But ‘cause I—” He paused for a moment, mouth slightly parted as though he was struggling to get the words to come out.

Beth’s eyes softened.

Daryl swallowed thickly and continued, quieter now. “I just meant...it ain’t nothin’ to me. What we got…it means somethin’, somethin’ that matters. We’re somethin’ that matters .”

She stopped walking and Daryl took one more step before realizing she’d halted. He turned back, shoulders rising like he expected he’d said something wrong.

But Beth wasn’t upset. She was smiling gently, warmly, like the words had filled something inside of her that had been empty. “We really are somethin’, aren’t we?” she said, voice soft with affection.

Daryl gave a quiet huff, like he couldn’t believe she was smiling at him like that, like he didn’t understand how he’d earned it; but his hand found hers again, surer this time. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, we are.”

They stood like that for a moment. The wind lifted Beth’s hair just enough to catch the sun, golden at the edges. Daryl’s expression didn’t soften so much as it settled—like some knot inside him had finally loosened. And then, without letting go of her hand, he muttered, “C’mon. Let’s get that head of yours looked at.”

Chapter 28

Notes:

Hey all! Got another crazy bout of shifts coming up this weekend starting Friday so until that settles down I'll be posting the chapters every Thursday!

Got a special treat for you all this time, a dear friend of mine got engaged over the last week and they're big TWD lovers and so to celebrate I'm releasing three chapters this week!

I hope you enjoy <3

The infirmary wasn’t far—just a short walk down the street, tucked to the side behind rows of uniform houses and a too-tidy sidewalk with hedges. From the outside, it looked like any other house in Alexandria with painted shutters, a well-kept porch, and even a rocking chair set just off-center like someone had left in the middle of a quiet evening. The inside had been converted into a makeshift infirmary, but it still held the charm of an actual home. The walls were lined with shelves of medical supplies, and there were old furniture pieces arranged to make it comfortable. It was warm in here, not cold or sterile like Grady had been. 
 

Beth idly fiddled with the wrap around her head, truthfully it had stopped hurting days ago, but Deanna insisted she get it looked at. “Dr. Anderson will want to meet you anyway,” she’d said with a reassuring smile.

Daryl’s boots thudded in softly behind her. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. He was there and that was enough.

“Hello?” a voice called. The man it belonged to stepped out from a back room, he was tall and neatly groomed. “You must be Beth, Deanna told me you’d be stopping in.” His voice was kind and his posture was relaxed, he looked like someone’s dad in his rumpled button-down and faint stubble. “I’m Pete, Pete Anderson.” he stepped forward with an outstretched hand.

Beth hesitated for just a beat before she shook it. “Hi.” She managed a small smile.

Daryl remained behind her, wordless. Pete looked at him and raised an eyebrow, offering him the same hand. “And you are?”

Daryl looked down at the hand and didn’t take it. “With her,” he said flatly.

Pete blinked once. “Right.” his smile faltered for a half-second before he turned back to Beth. “You can sit down right over there, Beth.” He gestured towards a stool by the window. “Deanna told me about your head, said it was a graze, no deep trauma?”

Beth nodded and sat down while Pete washed his hands at a sink that had probably once been used to rinse salad greens. “It’s from a bullet that skimmed me, was a while ago now.”

Daryl stayed standing, posting himself just behind her, arms folded and eyes locked on every move Pete made.

Pete pulled on gloves with a snap and stepped closer, nodding at Daryl. “You don’t have to hover, you know. She’s in good hands.”

Daryl didn’t move. “Ain’t hoverin’,” he muttered. But he was standing just close enough that his hip brushed Beth’s shoulder.

Beth tilted her head slightly to smile up at him, as if to say it’s okay , before turning back to Pete. “We’re just still gettin’ used to things, comes with the territory.”

“Fair enough, I’ll be gentle.” Pete said smoothly. “Shouldn’t take long.” His hands were raised in that non-threatening way doctors learned to use, but something about it made her stomach twist. He was handsome and clean-cut, with a trace of aftershave and a disarming charm but as he leaned in, Beth found herself holding her breath. There was a glint in his smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and his cologne, faint but sharp, caught in her throat…everything about him was too smooth, too polite. The way he smiled, the tone of his voice—It wasn’t the same as Gorman’s smarmy arrogance, but it brushed up against that same nerve. Like a man who wore a mask too well. “How’d this happen?” he asked casually, inspecting the wound with practiced fingers.

“Got caught in the crossfire. Long story.”

Pete gave a low whistle. “You’re one lucky girl, you know that? Just a few inches over and this could’ve been a hell of a lot worse.” His tone was casual and offhanded, but Beth’s throat tightened. That kind of thing—how close you came to dying—wasn’t something you said lightly,  not to someone who’d almost died.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Could’ve been.”

His voice stayed light. “So, first full day here. How’re you two settling in?”

Beth kept her tone even, polite. “It’s quiet. Cleaner than we’re used to. Still feels strange.”

“Strange,” Pete echoed. “Yeah, that’s a word for it. Some folks never quite adjust, and some start planting tomatoes by the end of the week. You strike me as the latter, and with a guard dog like this guy,” he nodded toward Daryl, “You won’t be running into trouble anytime soon.” 

Beth chuckled weakly, “We’ll see.”

Daryl didn’t laugh at all.

“Deanna says you all came a long way, she’s got high hopes for your group, thinks you’ll bring in strength, and balance. That’s the sort of thing we need around here.” Pete dabbed at the edge of the wound, and Beth flinched slightly when his fingers brushed too close to her ear.

“You done yet?” Daryl asked, tone sharp.

Pete looked up, brows lifting. “Almost. Sorry, didn’t mean to hurt her, just being thorough.”

“It’s okay,” Beth said quickly, though her voice was tighter than before. “Just stings a little.” 

“Well,” Daryl continued, glaring, “she don’t need thorough. She needs done.”

Beth reached out without looking and touched Daryl’s forearm, grounding him. Her fingers curled loosely around his wrist. “I’m alright,” she murmured. “Really.”

Pete gave her a reassuring smile, still crouched. “That man of yours has got a mean glare. If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under right now.”

She offered a weak smile in response. “He’s just cautious.”

“Guess I’d be too if my girl almost took a bullet to the head.” Pete finally leaned back. “Looks like it’s healing well,” he said. “Minimal inflammation, no sign of infection. Who patched you up?”

“My daddy was a vet,” Beth said, her voice quiet. “Guess some of it stuck, but it was a group effort.”

Pete gave a low whistle. “Impressive. Well, no signs of infection, and it’s already scabbed over. You’ll be fine. There’ll be a scar, but you’ll live to tell the tale. “I’ll clean it up a bit and re-bandage it, and send you on your way with some ointment.”

Beth gave a polite nod, grateful when he stepped back to gather supplies, she glanced toward Daryl. He hadn’t moved and she could feel his unease like a second heartbeat under her skin.

Pete came back, gently cleaning the graze, and reapplying a fresh strip of gauze. His touch never hurt, but Beth’s fingers curled around the edge of the stool. “All set,” Pete said brightly, his hands dropping from her head. “Let me know if anything starts itching or if you get dizzy, but you should be just fine.”

Beth nodded and slid off the stool. Daryl stepped closer immediately, his body subtly interposing itself between her and the doctor.

Pete gave another faint smirk. “Like I said…guard dog.” 

Beth’s brows flicked up in amused disbelief, but Daryl didn’t react. His arm hovered near her waist as they turned to leave. “Thanks,” Beth offered quickly. “For the checkup.” 

Pete waved it off like it was nothing. “Anytime, we’re neighbors now, after all.”

Once they were outside, Beth let out a slow breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The sky was soft with the afternoon light, the streets quiet, but not silent. She heard a bird somewhere and children’s voices in the distance. They walked a few paces in silence, Daryl didn’t say anything at first. He just kept glancing back toward the house, jaw tight and hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“You okay?” Beth asked gently.

“Don’t like him.” he muttered.

Beth looked over at him, touched by the way his concern sat so openly on his face. She looped her arm through his, leaning against his side with a soft smile. “He was friendly.” she said carefully. “Talked a little too much, maybe, but…he’s a doctor. Maybe that’s just how he is.”

“Too friendly,” Daryl grunted. “Ain’t right, somethin’s off. You felt it too, I saw it.”

“You’re cute when you’re worried,” she teased, bumping her shoulder into his. “But it’s alright. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

Daryl made a face. “Ain’t tryin’ to be cute.”

“I know,” she said, smiling faintly. “I get it, I do. I did feel somethin. He just...reminded me of someone.”

Daryl’s eyes flicked down to her, searching her face.

Beth shook her head. “It’s not important, just old memories.”

He exhaled through his nose, letting some of the edge bleed out of his stance. His hand caught hers and held tight. “I just…” He hesitated. “I just don’t like the way he looked at you.”

“I know,” she said gently. “But maybe we’re just not used to people actin’ nice.”

Daryl didn’t reply.

Beth leaned her head against his shoulder. “We’re gonna have to adjust, Daryl. To all of this. It’s…a lot. But we’ll figure it out.”

He pressed a kiss into her hair, murmuring, “Long as I got you.”

She smiled. “Always.”

Still, as they walked back toward, Beth caught herself glancing over her shoulder. Just once.

And Daryl noticed.

He always did.

_________________________________________________________________________

The sun had climbed high by the time Beth and Maggie found themselves walking the streets of Alexandria. Afternoon light pooled against clean white siding and trimmed hedges, casting long, gentle shadows that moved with the breeze. Wind chimes clinked distantly, and somewhere a dog barked once before falling silent. Beth’s boots made soft contact with the pavement, the noise somehow louder in the strange quiet of suburbia. Too peaceful, too still. It made her feel like she was walking through someone else’s memory of what the world was like before everything went to shit. Across the street, Glenn, Noah, and Tara were deep in conversation with Aiden Monroe and Nicholas. From here, Aiden’s exaggerated gestures looked theatrical, like a kid trying to prove he knew what he was doing. Glenn’s expression suggested he wasn’t buying it.

Beth squinted. “They don’t look too friendly.”

Maggie followed her gaze, arms crossed. “Glenn looks like he’s biting his tongue.”

“Tara’s smiling,” Beth said after a beat. “But it’s her ‘bless-your-heart’ smile.”

Maggie smirked in quiet agreement.

Beth’s eyes lingered on Noah, standing steady next to Glenn. His shoulders were squared, jaw tight, eyes calm. “He’s holdin’ his own.”

“He’s come a long way,” Maggie agreed.

They continued walking, a slow loop along the inside of the walls. A group of kids passed by on bikes, one of them shrieking with laughter.

“So,” Maggie said eventually, careful but not casual. “How’d it go with your head this morning?”

Beth shrugged one shoulder, brushing her fingers against her temple as though the bandage was still fresh. “Fine, he said it’s healing alright.”

“Did he seem…okay?”

Beth shrugged, fingers brushing over her temple where the bandage had been replaced. “He was nice. Talked a lot, seemed like he was trying real hard to come off casual.”

Maggie raised an eyebrow. “Did Daryl go with you?”

Beth gave her a look like she already knew the answer. “Of course.”

“Didn’t say a word, did he?”

“Nope, just glared holes through him.” Beth smiled faintly. “Pete made some joke about him being my guard dog.”

Maggie smirked. “He’s not wrong.” her expression softened a moment later. “How was your interview with Deanna?”

Beth blinked. “It was okay. Weird, but okay.”

“She ask you anything personal?”

Beth nodded. “She asked what I thought I could contribute. I told her I sing, I’m good with Judith, and know some first aid.” she paused for a moment, lips pursing as she considered something before continuing. “Before she asked if Daryl and I were…together.”

Maggie blinked. “She did?”

Beth’s voice lowered. “Yeah. Daryl just said, ‘We’re somethin’.’”

They passed a woman pushing a stroller who smiled at them like everything was perfectly ordinary. Beth smiled back, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Maggie’s tone softened. “How’d you sleep last night?”

Beth flushed, eyes flicking down the street. “Fine.”

“Uh-huh.” Maggie huffed. “Most of us slept in the same room, but some people were…closer.”

Beth leaned against the white-paneled fence of one of the homes. “It felt safe just hearing him breathe…it helped.”

Maggie didn’t say anything for a long moment. “You don’t have to justify it to me, Beth.”

“I know.” Beth looked down at her hands. “But I think you still wonder if I’m making a mistake.”

“I wonder if either of you are ready,” Maggie said carefully. “But I won’t stand in the way, I’m still your sister though, it’s my job to worry.”

Beth’s chest ached with something she couldn’t quite name. She looked down the block, past the greenhouse and solar panels. In the distance, Glenn shook Aiden’s hand with the enthusiasm of someone agreeing to dig his own grave. “You think this place’ll hold?” Beth asked softly. 

Maggie didn’t answer for a moment, then: “I think if we’re careful, and if we’re smart, it might.”

Beth glanced down the street. Somewhere just beyond the next block, Daryl had wandered off on his own earlier, muttering something about needing air. She hadn’t followed. But she’d noticed the way he looked back at her before he left. “Yeah,” Beth said. “It might.”

________________________________________________________________

Inside the house, their house for now, everything was quiet except for the occasional creak of the floorboards and the gentle hush of the breeze slipping through a cracked-open window. The others were scattered—Rick talking softly with Michonne near the kitchen, Glenn checking the supplies they'd brought in, Daryl sat out back by himself, smoking the last of a cigarette.

Beth sat near the fireplace, legs tucked beneath her on the rug. She wasn’t singing, not tonight, the stillness of the room had taken on a kind of peace she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Carl dropped onto the floor beside her, sighing as he leaned back on his elbows. His hat was pushed off to one side and his hair had fallen into his eyes.

“Tired?” Beth asked, smiling softly.

Carl shrugged. “Not really, just thinking.”

Beth waited, knowing from experience that if you gave Carl enough silence, he’d start talking.

Sure enough, after a beat, he said, “I met some of the kids here.”

Beth perked up. “Yeah?”

“Ron and Mikey,” Carl said. “They were…okay, I guess. We played some old video game they had on a busted-up PlayStation. I think it was racing or something.”

Beth chuckled. “You? Playing video games?”

“I was good at it,” Carl muttered. “I mean—I used to be.” He hesitated. “It was weird, though. Like…normal weird.”

“That’s a good weird, right?”

Carl nodded slowly. “Yeah, kinda.”

Beth let the quiet stretch again, waiting.

“And there was this girl, Enid,” Carl added. “She was there too. But…she didn’t talk to me at all.”

Beth turned her head, her expression gentle. “Maybe she’s just shy.”

“Maybe,” Carl said. “But she didn’t even look at me. Do you think I did something wrong?”

Beth shook her head. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Carl looked over at her, earnest and uncertain. “Then why’d she act like that?”

Beth thought for a moment, her fingers picking idly at a loose thread on her jeans. “People here…they’re not used to us,” she said. “Not yet. They’ve had time to build fences and make gardens and…play video games. We’ve been runnin’ and fightin’ and bleedin’. That changes how you look at people.”

“She doesn’t know what we’ve been through.”

“No,” Beth agreed. “And you don’t know what she’s been through, either.”

Carl’s eyes dropped to the floor.

Beth scooted a little closer and bumped her shoulder against his. “Give her time. Give all of ’em time, they’ll come around.”

Carl nodded, chewing at the inside of his cheek. “She had a knife in her boot.”

Beth smiled faintly. “Smart girl.”

“I thought so too,” he said.

They sat in silence for a while. The wind shifted outside, making the blinds flutter.

Carl finally asked, “You think it’s okay if I try to talk to her again tomorrow?”

Beth looked at him and gave a soft nod. “Yeah. I think that’s exactly what you should do.”

He relaxed a little, then tugged his hat down properly over his eyes. “Thanks.”

Beth leaned her head back against the couch behind her, gaze drifting to the soft amber light spilling in through the window. For once, the quiet didn’t feel threatening. It felt earned. “Anytime,” she said softly.

Chapter 29

The next morning in Alexandria came with birdsong and sunlight. It was almost eerie how normal it was, the kind of morning that once would’ve meant school buses and coffee runs now meant guarded optimism and job assignments. The group stood scattered across the front yard of the Monroe house, Deanna had called for a quick meeting—her version of “quick” turned out to mean organized and calmly persuasive, clipboard in hand. She stood at the top of the porch steps like a politician giving a speech, which, Beth supposed, she was. 

“I want you all to feel like this is home,” Deanna said, her voice carrying easily over the soft morning air. “And a big part of that is contributing to it. You’ve all survived, yes—but here, you can build again. So we’re starting with some roles, some conversations.”

Beth stood beside Daryl near the back of the group, her arms crossed over her stomach as she squinted against the light. Daryl hadn’t said much this morning, but she could feel the tension coming off him in slow waves.

Deanna continued, flipping a page on her clipboard. “Abraham?”

Abraham stepped forward with his usual confident stride and muttered, “Present.”

“You strike me as someone who understands structure, strength, physical work. We could really use you on the construction team.”

Abraham gave a sharp, amused snort. “You want me swingin’ hammers instead of spitting bullets? I think I can oblige.”

Deanna smiled. “My husband oversees that project. He’d love to talk to you later today.”


“Long as there’s somethin’ heavier than a nail gun, I’m in,” Abraham said, stepping back.

Deanna’s gaze moved to Noah next. “Noah, Reg actually asked if he could speak to you, too. He was impressed with how you carry yourself. He’s got expansion plans, and I think he’d appreciate your perspective and your insight.”

Noah blinked, startled. “Me?”

“You strike me as thoughtful,” she said gently. “That’s rare.”

Noah ducked his head, murmured a quiet, “Okay, sure.”

Deanna smiled at him, then looked up toward the edge of the group. “Beth? Eugene? Would you come with me, please?”

Beth glanced at Eugene, who stiffened as if caught mid-equation.

“The infirmary,” Deanna said as she descended the porch steps. “Pete mentioned he could use more help. We’re hoping to get it fully staffed again.”

Eugene muttered, “I possess a modest but adequate knowledge of triage-level medical procedures, with special familiarity regarding antiseptic applications and emergency adhesive solutions.”

Beth gave a soft breath of a laugh, but she was still aware of how Daryl stiffened next to her. 

“It’s just to help,” she whispered. “And I’ll be careful.”

Daryl didn’t look at her right away. When he did, there was something sharp and unspoken in his eyes.

Beth brushed her hand lightly against his wrist. “Hey,” she said, low and calm. “You trust me?”

He hesitated, then gave a subtle nod.

Beth squeezed his hand once before stepping away and falling into stride beside Eugene, who was already trailing Deanna with the distracted air of a man composing a speech in his head.

Upon arriving at the infirmary, Beth stepped in behind Deanna, her boots soft against the hardwood. Eugene followed, already muttering something about “electrical integrity thresholds” as he peered at a small oxygen tank near the wall.

Pete looked up from the desk in the corner. He was dressed cleanly again, sleeves rolled, a pen tucked behind his ear. When he spotted them, his face broke into a familiar, too-easy smile. “Well,” he said, rising to his feet, “I didn’t expect to see you back so soon.”

Beth offered a polite nod. “Just here to help.”

Pete’s eyes flicked behind her, then back. “No guard dog today?”

Beth’s expression didn’t change. “He’s got other things to do.”

“Shame,” Pete said lightly, his smile lingering a little too long before he looked toward Deanna. “I appreciate the extra hands.”

“Well, you have them,” Deanna said, already backing toward the door. “I’ll leave you to it—plenty more folks to check in with.” She gave the two of them a reassuring smile and closed the door behind her.

Beth took a breath.

Pete clapped his hands together once. “Alright. Eugene, was it?”

“That is my designation, yes,” Eugene said, already crouched beside the wall-mounted vitals monitor. “And I’ve taken the liberty of visually assessing your equipment stockpile. Most items here are in better condition than anticipated.”

Pete nodded, amused. “Great. Think you could check on the defibrillator in the back? The battery’s been blinking and I don’t trust it.”

“I shall endeavor to ensure its optimal function,” Eugene replied, heading deeper into the house.

Pete turned his attention to Beth. “So,” he said, stepping closer, “how much do you know?”

Beth blinked. “About?”

“First aid,” Pete clarified. “You said your dad was a vet. But you cleaned your wound better than most.”

She nodded slowly. “He taught me the basics. Sutures, cleaning, binding. We picked up more on the road.”

Pete folded his arms, watching her. “You want to learn more?”

Beth hesitated—then nodded. “I do.”

He smiled. “Good. It’s not glamorous and It’s not always clean, but it matters.”

Beth felt herself nod again.

Pete walked past her toward the cabinet near the back wall, grabbing a notepad off the shelf. “I’ve been behind on inventory,” he said, flipping through it. “Think you can start there? Make sure everything matches what’s listed—stock, expiration dates, the works.”

“Sure,” she said.

“Cabinets, drawers, and cold box too.” 

Beth moved toward the supply shelves, accepting the clipboard from him with a quiet, “Got it.”

He gave her a small smile, then returned to his desk and sat down with a soft exhale, scribbling notes into a chart.

Beth crouched beside the first drawer and opened it slowly, letting the sharp scent of antiseptic and latex hit her full in the face.

Well, this was a start.

She clicked her pen and started counting, moving methodically along the shelves, checking expiration dates and jotting quick notes onto the clipboard. The air in the room was calm, almost sterile in its quiet. Every now and then she heard the soft scratch of Pete’s pen behind her as he worked through patient charts.

From the other room came a low muttering, followed by the unmistakable whrrp of a machine powering on—and then sputtering off.

Eugene’s voice floated back toward them, conversational and slightly too loud. “Based on battery corrosion levels and previous usage logs, I’d estimate this defibrillator hasn’t been checked properly in at least…six to nine months. Possibly longer. Curious, given its intended emergency function.”

Beth looked up, freezing just for a second.

Pete’s pen paused mid-stroke. There was a beat of silence before he replied—too casually, too quickly. “I’ve been spread thin,” he said, not looking up. “I’ve had to prioritize, we don’t exactly have a surplus of medical staff.”

Eugene stepped back into the doorway with a nod, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Understandable,” he said. “Though if I may be frank, negligence in medical maintenance is often a symptom of larger systemic oversight. Or stress-induced tunnel vision. Which, I suppose, is common among those with burdensome personal responsibilities.”

Beth’s eyes flicked toward Pete, whose jaw tightened for the briefest of moments. “Noted,” he said flatly.

Eugene didn’t notice. He simply returned to his diagnostics with the same absent-minded hum he always had when solving a problem.

Pete stood up a moment later and walked into the back room without a word.

Beth quietly resumed her count, pen tapping once against the clipboard.

The silence that followed felt just a little sharper than before.

____________________________________________________________________

Beth closed the infirmary door with a soft click behind her, stepping out into the golden quiet of late afternoon. The sun had begun its slow descent behind the houses, casting long shadows across the pavement and tinting everything in honeyed light. She exhaled as soon as the door latched, as if she’d been holding her breath for the last hour. Her shoulders ached—not from lifting, but from watching, f rom feeling.

Eugene had stayed behind, still attempting to stabilize one of the oxygen monitors. Pete had barely said a word after his brief exchange with Eugene, only muttering something about finishing charts and disappearing into a back room.

Beth didn’t mind leaving them to it.

Upon returning to the house, Beth spotted him before she even reached the steps.

Daryl was sitting on the porch, hunched over with his sleeves rolled up, a freshly caught rabbit laid out across an old cutting board in his lap. His hands moved with quick, practiced efficiency—sliding the blade under the skin, peeling it back like muscle memory. There was a small bucket at his feet already streaked with blood and water.

Beth didn’t flinch.

He looked up when he heard her boots on the walkway.

“Hey,” she said gently, climbing the steps.

“Hey,” he grunted, not stopping the rhythm of his work.

She dropped onto the step beside him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from the day still clinging to his skin. He didn’t look at her right away, but she could tell from the way his jaw twitched that he was listening, waiting. “You know we have a table now, right?”

Daryl didn’t look up. “Ain’t cleanin’ game where I eat.”

She wrinkled her nose and leaned over slightly. “You also ain’t supposed to do it where you greet the neighbors.”

“That’s their problem.”

Beth couldn’t help but chuckle. “Finished up a little while ago,” she said. “Eugene’s still in there. He started takin’ apart the oxygen monitor like it offended him.”

Daryl snorted.

Beth tilted her head. “Where’d you even catch that?”

“Took a walk outside the walls, just needed out for a while.”

She watched his hands move. There was something calming in it—the way he cleaned the rabbit like it was just another day, another survival task. “Pete said he wants me to keep helpin’ and learn more,” Beth said after a beat.

Daryl’s hands stilled for half a second before he resumed.

“He didn’t try nothin’,” she added.

“Didn’t say he did,” Daryl muttered, but she could feel the tension lingering in his jaw.

“He looked at me too long again, though,” she said lightly.

“I’ll kill him,” Daryl said immediately, like he was commenting on the weather.

Beth laughed. “Just remind me not to leave you alone with him in a locked room.”

“Wouldn’t waste the room,” Daryl grunted.

Before Beth could respond, the gate creaked open at the edge of the yard, and footsteps approached up the walk.

“Oh for God’s sake—Daryl, really?”

Beth turned in time to see Carol approaching the porch steps.

“What?” Daryl grunted.

“Right on the porch?” Carol’s voice was sharp and her tone unimpressed.

Daryl didn’t even flinch. “Ain’t nobody complainin’.” he wiped his hands off with a scrap of old cloth. “Where do you want me to do it? Middle of the street?”

“Literally anywhere else,” Carol said. “Like maybe not three feet from the welcome mat?”

Daryl blinked. “We got a welcome mat?”

Beth let out a quiet snort.

Carol gave her a look. “Don’t encourage him.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Beth said, raising her hands. “I’m just here for the food.”

With a dramatic sigh, Carol slipped by them. “Try not to traumatize the neighbors’ kids while you’re at it. There’s a thing called countertops, Dixon.”

“I’ll skin the next one in your room,” he muttered.

Carol didn’t even break stride. “As long as you clean the floor when you’re done.”

The door shut behind her with a thud, leaving Beth still chuckling beside him.

Daryl shook his head. “She thinks she’s funny.”

“She is funny.”

“She’s somethin’. ”

Beth leaned her head against his shoulder, the laughter fading into something soft. “Thanks for dinner.”

Daryl huffed. “Ain’t cooked it yet.”

“You caught it and cleaned it. That pretty much counts.”

They sat there in companionable quiet, the smell of sun-warmed grass and drying rabbit thick in the air, the sun slowly sinking lower behind the houses.

Chapter 30

Beth’s shift at the infirmary the next day had been short. Pete had seemed off the moment she arrived—pale around the edges, eyes shadowed, his smile just a little too tight.

“Gonna close up early,” he told her, massaging his temples like the light hurt. “Head’s pounding. One of those days.” He waved her off before she could offer to help, saying something about needing quiet and paperwork and not wanting to be short with anyone.

Beth hadn’t argued. She had just stepped out of their shared house with Judith in her arms, rocking her slowly under the warm late afternoon sun when the voices pierced through the peace like a blade.

“Bullshit!” Glenn’s voice rang out.

Beth froze.

More yelling followed—Noah, Tara, Nicholas, then Aiden’s unmistakable snide tone. People were gathering near the gate in a loose, uncertain half-circle. Beth spotted Maggie stepping out of the garden and moving toward the commotion, her pace quickening.

Beth handed Judith to a nearby Alexandrian woman with a rushed, “Please—watch her!” before running. By the time she pushed her way to the front of the group, Aiden had already taken a swing at Glenn.

He missed—but that didn’t matter. The moment he did it, the tension exploded.

“Hey!” Noah barked.

Nicholas lunged forward to grab Glenn—only to be intercepted by a flash of movement from the side.

Daryl.

He came out of nowhere, fists clenched, jaw tight. Before Nicholas could even touch Glenn, Daryl slammed into him from the side, tackling him to the ground with a violent grunt. He grabbed Nicholas by the collar and drove him down, pinning him in the dirt. His forearm pressed hard against Nicholas’s throat.

Nicholas sputtered, red-faced and choking. Aiden jumped back, panicked.

“Daryl!” Maggie shouted, horrified.

Beth rushed forward, eyes wide, heart hammering as she cried out. “Daryl stop, please!”

Only when Rick came storming through the gates with Carl and grabbed Daryl by the shoulders did he finally release his grip.

Nicholas scrambled away, coughing violently, red-faced and humiliated.

“Goddamn psychopath,” Aiden hissed under his breath.

Rick shoved Daryl back, firm but not unkind, holding him in place as Daryl bristled under the weight of restraint, shrugging off Rick’s hand as his gaze remained fixed on Nicholas.

“That’s enough!” Deanna’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. Her gaze swept the scene, taking in Glenn’s bruised face, Nicholas’s disheveled state, and the blood on Daryl’s knuckles. “These people,” she said loudly, turning to face the gathered Alexandrians, “are part of this community now. And that means they are your equals. They bleed for us, they fight for us, and I will not have them assaulted because you don’t like being questioned.”

Aiden opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off with a glare sharp enough to slice steel.

“Do you understand me?” she asked, eyes locked on Aiden.

He swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“Nicholas?”

The younger man, still rubbing his throat, gave a stiff nod.

“Good,” she said coldly. “Go clean yourselves up. I’ll speak to you both later.”

Nicholas scrambled up and followed Aiden with a glare at Daryl as he passed, but neither dared say anything else.

Deanna turned back toward Rick and Michonne. “You still want to protect this place?”

Rick nodded. “We do.”

“Good. Then I’d like to officially appoint you both as constables. You’ll help enforce order. Starting now.”

Michonne and Rick exchanged a glance, then nodded.

Deanna gave a single, tired nod before dispersing the gathering with a few sharp words. Most people scattered, muttering. Aiden and Nicholas slunk off, eyes down.

Daryl didn’t wait. He turned on his heel and stormed off toward the edge of town, Beth was already following him before Maggie could stop her. She found him near the edge of Alexandria, half-hidden by tall hedges and late-blooming flowers. He stood with his hands braced against the metal of the walls, chest still heaving, and knuckles scraped. “Hey,” she said softly.

He didn’t turn.

“You okay?” she asked.

“That punk had it comin’,” he muttered. “Shouldn’t’ve gone for Glenn.”

“I know,” Beth said gently, coming up behind him. “I saw.”

He finally looked at her then, eyes storm-dark. “They ain’t us,” he said. “Out there they wouldn’t last a damn day, they don’t know what th’hell they’re doin.”

“They’ll learn,” Beth murmured, placing a placating hand on his arm. “And until they do…they’ve got you, and Rick, and Glenn.”

His eyes dropped to her hand, then her face. Some of the fury started to bleed away.

She smiled softly. “You scared the hell outta me, though.”

Daryl huffed, the corner of his mouth twitching as he turned to face her. “Didn’t mean to.”

Beth stepped in closer, laying her head gently on his chest. “I know.”

His arms slowly came around her, tentative at first—then more certain. His face buried against her hair, and he let out a breath like he’d been holding it for hours.

—-----------------------------------------------

The crickets had returned.

For the first time in a long time, the sound didn’t mean it was time to sleep with one eye open. It meant a porch, a backyard, and a real fence. The air was warm with late spring, but Daryl still wore his vest like armor, one foot drawn up against the railing, the other planted firmly on the floorboards.

Beth sat cross-legged beside him, a small first-aid kit open between them. She was working carefully, dabbing antiseptic onto his bruised, broken knuckles with a piece of cloth.

Daryl flinched once, barely, but Beth caught it.

“You know,” she said softly, “you could’ve just not tackled the guy like a linebacker.”

Daryl grunted. “He had it comin.”

Beth didn’t argue “I still don’t like seeing you hurt,” she murmured, smoothing ointment over a scabbed scrape. Her fingers lingered on his hand. His were calloused and rough and hers small but steady.

Daryl looked at her. “You okay?” he asked.

Beth met his eyes and gave a slow nod. “Yeah, I’m…tryin’.”

The screen door creaked behind them and Rick stepped out, a clean shirt clinging to him like it didn’t quite fit his post-road skin. Carol followed quietly, hands tucked into the sleeves of her cardigan. Rick glanced down at them, and for once, he smiled—small, but real. “I was just thinking,” he said, stepping onto the porch, “it might be time we started sleeping in our own homes.”

Daryl shifted slightly but said nothing. Beth looked up, brow furrowed.

Rick turned to them. “We’ve got houses now, rooms. This place could work. Deanna trusts us. She wants us to help run it. Me and Michonne are constables now.”

“Badge and all,” Carol added, her tone flat but faintly amused.

Rick didn’t notice. He stepped forward, arms crossed loosely. “I think we can make it work. If we stay sharp.”

Carol spoke next, voice low and even. “If we get comfortable, we get weak.”

Rick shook his head. “No. Not us. Not anymore. It’s not in us to get weak again.”

Beth felt a ripple of unease crawl up her spine.

Rick looked out across the lawn, toward the trimmed hedges and soft porch lights glowing in the distance. “And if they can’t make it work…” he paused, then added, voice flat, “we’ll just take this place.”

The silence that followed was heavy.

Beth exchanged a glance with Daryl. His jaw was tight.

Carol said nothing, only watched Rick with quiet calculation.

Beth’s voice was soft but firm. “Rick…that ain’t us either.”

He looked at her again, something unreadable in his expression.

“We’ve lost a lot,” Beth continued. “But we don’t gotta lose ourselves.”

Rick didn’t argue, didn’t answer. He just nodded once, turned, and stepped back inside, the screen door creaking behind him.

Carol lingered a second longer. “You two stay sharp,” she said with a small smirk. “And stay close.” Then she vanished too.

On the porch, the crickets sang again. Beth turned back to Daryl, who hadn’t said a word since. He looked down at his hand, bandaged and clean now in her lap, then to her. “Ain’t nothin’ here worth havin’ if it turns us into somethin’ we ain’t.” he said quietly.

Beth blinked at him, surprised for a second by the softness in his tone. 

He squeezed her hand lightly. “Long as you’re here…I got everythin’ I need.”

Beth smiled softly, her eyes stinging just a little as she shifted beside him so she could rest her head on his shoulder, and for a while longer, they sat in the quiet, leaning onto each other like the world might shift again at any second.

Chapter 31

The sky had darkened to a deep velvet blue by the time Beth stood up to stretch, her fingers brushing the porch railing as she blinked toward the streetlamps lining the sidewalks like glowing sentries. The weight of yesterday still lingered in her bones, but the peace of the porch, Daryl beside her, the warm night air and the smell of cut grass made it feel less heavy, soothing like a balm.

The screen door next door creaked and Maggie stepped out. Her arms were crossed, sweater sleeves bunched at her elbows, and her expression was equal parts weary and expectant. “Hey,” she called softly, walking over the lawn between the two houses.

Beth turned while Daryl remained seated, one foot still propped on the railing, but his posture had stiffened. He could already read it in Maggie’s gait.

Maggie stopped just shy of the porch steps. “Rick says we’re settlin’ in for real now. Houses and beds and all that.”

Beth nodded cautiously, her eyes flicking toward the house behind her. “Yeah, I heard.”

Maggie tilted her head, squinting slightly in the porch light. “You comin’? Glenn and I already picked the one next door yesterday. One of the room’s has a little window and one of those ceiling fans that probably don’t work but might.”

Beth hesitated. “I was thinkin’ I’d stay here tonight.”

Maggie’s expression flickered, hurt, maybe, or just tired. “Beth…”

“I’m just not ready to…split off.” She glanced at Daryl without quite meaning to. “Not yet.”

There was a pause. Maggie looked from her sister to Daryl and back again. “You’ve got him,” Maggie said, gently. Not accusingly, just stating it plain. “But I miss you, we haven’t even really talked since we got here.”

Beth’s mouth opened, then closed. She had no defense, she had been avoiding it. The whole place felt like a fever dream, and facing Maggie, facing what it all meant, how far they'd come apart, was still too raw.

“I ain’t tryin’ to pull you away,” Maggie added. “I just want a night where we’re in the same house again. Just you and me and Glenn for a while. No guards, no fires, no worryin’ if somebody’s gonna bleed out in their sleep.”

Beth looked at her for a long moment. Then she sighed, quiet and slow. “Alright,” she said. “Just for tonight.”

Daryl shifted beside her, barely perceptible, but she noticed. She turned and crouched beside him, resting her palm briefly on his knee. “You’ll be alright?” she asked softly, a quiet, almost teasing lilt to her voice.

Daryl looked at her. “You know where I’ll be.” Beth smiled, and he caught the edge of her fingers, squeezing once. It wasn’t much. But it said I’ll be here.

Beth stood, stepping inside for a moment to grab her bag from the living room and sling it over her shoulder. As she stepped down into the grass, Maggie touched her arm. “I’m not mad,” Maggie murmured.

 

“I know,” Beth whispered back.

They walked side by side across the yard as the porch light flickered behind them.

 

From his spot on the steps, Daryl watched until the door of the house next door closed behind them. He leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on that porch now.

 

Crickets kept chirping and the walls still held.

 

But without her beside him, the quiet pressed a little harder.

_________________________________________

 

Upstairs, Glenn had already turned in, murmuring something about being dead on his feet. Maggie had lit a candle in the front room instead of turning on the lamps, and now the flame flickered between the two sisters as they sat cross-legged on a couch that smelled faintly of cedar and lemon cleaner.

 

Beth had her arms around a pillow, hugging it loosely to her stomach. She stared at the window, where lace curtains drifted lazily in the breeze. Maggie sat beside her, sipping water from a glass and watching her in that quiet way she always had—where Beth could feel the weight of the words Maggie was holding in her chest.

 

“You remember Daddy’s porch swing?” Maggie asked suddenly.

 

Beth smiled faintly, her eyes still on the window. “The chain was always squeakin’. It used to drive Momma crazy.”

 

“She hated how it leaned,” Maggie said, a small laugh in her throat. “Said it made the whole house look crooked.”

 

Beth leaned her head back against the couch, letting her gaze drift to the ceiling. “I loved it. Especially in summer, it felt like the only place I could breathe sometimes.”

 

They were quiet for a moment, letting that memory stretch between them like sunlight across floorboards.

 

“I was scared yesterday,” Maggie said finally. Her voice wasn’t weak—it was calm, plain, and honest. “When Rick said we should start splittin’ off, sleepin’ in our own homes. I know it’s what people used to do, I know it’s normal, but…” She trailed off, exhaling. “It made it feel real, like we might actually stay.”

 

Beth didn’t respond right away. Her fingers trailed along the frayed edge of the pillow in her lap. “I was scared too,” she admitted. “Of leaving that porch, of leavin’ him for even one night.”

 

Maggie glanced sideways. “Daryl?”

 

Beth nodded, then shrugged a little. “He don’t say much, but I know when he’s holdin’ on, just like I know when I am.”

 

“You both care about each other,” Maggie said simply. “It shows.”

 

Beth blinked at that, a lump forming in her throat she hadn’t expected.

 

“I was mad,” Maggie continued softly. “After the prison, after you…when I thought I lost you, I was mad at the world, mad at myself, mad at—at you, even.”

 

Beth looked over, surprised.

 

“I didn’t go lookin’ for you in the way I should have,” Maggie confessed. “And then when I saw you…when you weren’t how I remembered...all that guilt came with it. And I didn’t know how to face it, how to face you .”

 

Beth’s voice was barely audible. “I didn’t know how to face you either.”

 

They sat in the candlelight, the quiet house breathing around them.

 

“I thought about Daddy a lot after Atlanta,” Beth whispered. “What he’d say. How he’d hold your hand and mine and tell us that we’d find our way back to each other, that we had to.” Maggie’s eyes shimmered as Beth turned slightly toward her sister, voice trembling. “We lost so much, but I don’t want to lose you too. Not really, not now.”

 

“You haven’t,” Maggie said. She reached out and took Beth’s hand. “You never did.”

 

Beth didn’t cry, not fully, but her chest gave a little hiccup as she folded herself against her sister, head on Maggie’s shoulder like they were girls again on the farmhouse couch, listening to cicadas outside the window.

 

They stayed that way until the candle burned low.

 

Until the silence no longer felt like an ache, but like rest.

 

Like healing.

Chapter 32

Notes:

As you all can probably see, I'm expanding the timeline they spend settling into Alexandria by just a bit, a month or two at most!

I feel like a lot of stuff happened in such a short frame of time in the show / the passage of time wasn't shown properly in the show so I want to give the characters some time to breathe and adjust!

Sunlight filtered through leafy branches as Rick crouched low behind a toppled fence post just beyond the tree line. He glanced back toward the wall—still visible but far enough they wouldn’t be overheard. Footsteps crunched on dry leaves behind him, he didn’t need to turn to know who it was. Carol emerged first, a calm expression on her face and a pistol already holstered at her side and Daryl followed a few paces behind, crossbow slung across his shoulder, and his eyes scanning the woods like they were still out on the run. Rick stood to meet them.

 

Carol glanced over her shoulder before speaking. “We’re clear.”

 

“You sure we should be meetin’ out here?” Daryl muttered, his voice low and wary. “Feels like we’re sneakin’ around our own people.”

 

Rick’s jaw tightened. “We’re not sneaking, we’re preparing.”

 

Carol raised an eyebrow. “You’ve changed your mind, then? About trusting them?”

 

“I’m not waiting to find out if we made a mistake,” Rick said flatly. “We’ve gone too far to gamble everything, we need insurance.”

 

Carol crossed her arms. “The armory.”

 

Rick nodded. “We take a few and hide them, just in case. Nobody else needs to know. Not Glenn, not Michonne, not even Beth.”

 

Daryl’s head snapped slightly toward him. “Why not Beth?”

 

“She don’t need that weight on her,” Rick replied. “She’s keepin’ folks grounded, that’s enough.”

 

Daryl didn’t respond right away. His gaze flicked toward the sun-dappled trees. “Ain’t right keepin’ secrets like this, Beth ain’t gonna like it.”

 

Rick faced him squarely. “You want Beth safe or not?”

 

Daryl’s mouth snapped shut. The question hit harder than a bullet. He pictured Beth on the porch that morning, Judith in her lap, humming while the world, just for a heartbeat, felt normal. One bad turn and all of that could vanish.

 

Rick didn’t stop. “If this place goes south, you think your crossbow’s gonna be enough to keep her? Think again. You care about her? Then help me make sure she doesn’t get caught in another Grady, another prison, another Terminus.”

 

Daryl looked away, jaw working. Finally he exhaled. “We do it clean. No one sees, no one hears, no one ever finds it unless we need it.”

 

“That’s the plan.” Rick’s gaze softened, as did his stance. “I trust you both, but Alexandria’s soft. If something goes wrong, I want to know we’ve got something to fall back on.”

 

Carol sighed, but nodded. “Then we’ll do it during that welcome party Deanna’s been talking about throwing at the end of the week. Everyone will be distracted, I can slip in, grab what we need, and stash them outside the walls. Somewhere safe.”

 

A rustle in the brush snapped all three of their heads around. A low snarl broke through the silence as a lone walker stumbled into view, dragging its mangled foot behind it. Its skin sagged, yellow-gray and slack, and its milky eyes fixed blindly in their direction. Carol stepped forward, pulling her pistol and firing once, then again—the shots loud in the quiet woods but carefully placed. “Told them I was coming out here for practice,” she muttered under her breath.

 

The walker groaned, still staggering, until Daryl moved past her and raised his crossbow. With a thwip , the bolt embedded cleanly in its skull, and the body collapsed to the forest floor with a dull thud. Daryl stepped over and crouched beside the corpse, tugging his bolt free before his eyes caught something. He frowned, brushing back a strand of greasy hair.

 

“What is it?” Rick asked.

 

“Somethin’ carved in its forehead,” Daryl muttered, turning the walker’s head slightly.

 

A ragged W.

 

All three of them went still.

 

Carol narrowed her eyes. “You think that means something?”

 

“Could be a group,” Rick said. “A warning, a signature.”

 

“Could just be sick fun,” Daryl muttered, standing and wiping the bolt on his jeans. “Either way, somethin’ ain’t right.”

 

Rick looked back toward the wall, distant and quiet under the gold sun. The illusion of peace.

 

They didn’t linger.

 

No more words passed between them as they returned through the trees, shadows under the guise of neighbors, armed with a secret and the first scar of a new threat still taking shape just beyond the walls.

 

_________________________________________

 

Beth stood on the back porch of the house she now shared with Maggie and Glenn, a ceramic mug cradled in both hands. The tea had gone lukewarm, forgotten more than once, but the warmth of the cup still felt good against her fingers. The afternoon sun bathed the neighborhood in gold. The sounds of hammers clinking and laughter down the street drifted in on the breeze—some Alexandrians fixing siding, kids bouncing a basketball, an old stereo playing faintly from someone’s window.

 

It all still felt…surreal.

 

Her eyes drifted to the road just in time to catch Carl walking past the front of the neighboring house. He had one hand shoved deep in his pocket, the other gesturing animatedly as he spoke to Ron and Mikey, who walked beside him. A few paces back, Enid followed with her arms folded, eyes on the ground, her ever-present guarded look softening when Carl turned to say something over his shoulder. Beth smiled faintly. There was still something boyish in Carl, despite all he’d seen. A flicker of the kid he used to be. It made something ache in her chest in a way she couldn’t quite name. She sipped her tea. Let her gaze shift.

 

Father Gabriel sat alone on a bench by the community garden, his Bible sat open resting in his lap, but he wasn’t reading and he wasn’t praying, he just stared out at nothing, his expression tight and inward. He’d been drifting from the group lately, growing quieter, distant. Beth didn’t know if it was guilt or grief eating at him, but whatever it was, it had hollowed something in his eyes. The others noticed too, though no one said anything out loud, not yet. Tara and Glenn kept busy scouting with Aiden and Nicholas and checking inventory, sometimes Tara would stop in the infirmary to check on Eugene who had taken to sketching water filtration systems and channels for repurposing rain water on scrap napkins when he wasn’t fixing something. Rosita had been pitching in with the construction crews with Abraham, sometimes Beth would catch them bickering, and other times laughing. Yesterday Beth saw Rosita smiling in a way she hadn’t seen in months. Maggie had quickly become a fixture in the community, half resident and half liaison. Beth watched as she walked briskly with Deanna, their conversation muffled but focused. Maggie’s hands moved animatedly as she pointed to a section of wall, and then gestured toward the community garden. For a moment, Beth felt her heart swell a little with pride. Maggie was good at this, full of that leadership blood their daddy used to talk about, Beth was proud of her. Sometimes though, Beth still caught her eyes flicking towards her, still as protective as ever. Carol never ceased to amaze Beth, she took to Alexandria like she had always belonged here despite everything she had done before stepping foot in its walls. Beth had watched it all with quiet fascination over the past few days. Carol walked through the town with a pleasant smile, her hair soft around her face, her apron tied just so around her waist. She baked cookies, offered recipes, and asked the Alexandrians how to get stains out of curtains like it was the most important thing in the world. To anyone watching, she was the picture of domestic contentment.

 

But Beth knew better.

 

She saw the way Carol’s eyes flicked over every tool in the shed during “neighborhood orientation.” She saw how her hands moved with practiced ease when she tied the apron, a motion fast and precise, like she could just as easily be knotting a tourniquet. She saw her tuck a paring knife into her cardigan sleeve when she thought no one was watching. She saw her kneel beside little Sam Anderson one morning to offer him a cookie, smiling, sweet-voiced, and gentle, and then rise with eyes so cold and calculating it made her shiver. Beth had learned that Carol’s strength wasn’t just in her resolve, it was in her ability to slip between masks like water through cracks. And right now, she wore the mask of Alexandria’s friendliest homemaker.

 

And Daryl…

 

Beth’s heart softened.

 

Daryl hadn’t changed much to the outside eye. He was out hunting most mornings before the sun rose. Some days he returned with a haul of rabbits or a string of squirrels. Other times, just blood on his shirt and dirt under his nails. He still spoke in few words and wore his crossbow like a second spine. Beth though? She picked up things that no one else looked for. She knew the way his hand lingered at her waist when they passed each other. The way he left little things for her—wildflowers on the windowsill, a stone smoothed by the creek, one of Judith’s pacifiers when it rolled behind the couch. The way his voice gentled just a notch when it was only them. Sometimes, late at night, when the houses had gone quiet and the porch lights flickered out, they’d slip away together, just for a while. There was a half-finished yellow house tucked at the farthest end of the north wall. Its frame was sound, but the interior was bare with no paint on the walls, and the insulation still peeked through the beams upstairs. But to Beth and Daryl, it was theirs, even if not officially. No one else came that far. There were no neighbors, no clocks ticking, and no drifting voices; just wind through unfinished rafters, and stars through an uncovered windowpane. They’d dragged an old mattress up to the second floor and stashed a blanket inside a chest. Most nights, they just lay curled together in the quiet, fingers tracing familiar patterns across bare skin, hearts steadying. Other nights, they’d crossed quieter thresholds, tentative, reverent, and never rushed. Beth knew every callus on his hands, and how his breath hitched when she kissed the scar on his collarbone. And Daryl knew how she’d shudder at the scrape of his stubble against her throat, and the way she melted when he kissed slow and deep when it was just the two of them.

 

Beth took a slow breath and stepped off the porch, drawn toward the watchtower near the wall. She caught a familiar silhouette, rifle balanced, and shoulders stiff. 

 

Sasha.

 

The door to the tower was propped open with a rock, she knocked gently anyways. “Sasha?” she called gently.

 

No answer.

 

Beth hesitated, then started climbing. The steps groaned beneath her, but she kept going up and up, past the lower level where a pair of folding chairs sat untouched. Past the midpoint where empty water bottles gathered dust, to the very top.

 

Sasha sat on the floor beside the window, her rifle balanced on the sill. “If you’re here to tell me it’s dinner time, I’m not hungry.”

 

Beth stepped in anyway, the air tinged with dust and oil. “I figured,” she said softly. “I just came to see you.”

 

Sasha didn’t answer at first, she just kept her eye to the scope, scanning the trees outside the gate.

 

“You been up here a while,” Beth continued, stepping closer. “Couple days now, right?”

 

“I’m doing something useful,” Sasha muttered.

 

Beth leaned her hip against the railing. “Ain’t sayin' you’re not.”

 

Outside the walls, a walker lurched from the tree line. Sasha raised the rifle, exhaled, and fired. One clean shot. The walker dropped.

 

Beth flinched a little. “That the fifth one today?”

 

“Seventh.”

 

There was silence for a while.

 

Beth looked at her, really looked. Sasha’s face was thin, her cheeks hollowed just a bit, and the dark circles under her eyes were heavier than they’d been before. “It’s okay to rest, you know.” Beth said, easing down near the opposite wall.

 

“Somebody’s gotta keep watch.”

 

“Ain’t saying you shouldn’t,” Beth said gently. “Just sayin' you don’t gotta do it alone.”

 

A low groan echoed beyond the walls. Three walkers stumbled into view between the trees. Sasha raised the rifle and fired. The shots rang through the tower like a whip crack.

 

Beth flinched, blinking away the sting in her ears.

 

“That makes ten,” Sasha muttered.

 

Beth studied her quietly. Her hands trembled just slightly when she lowered the rifle. Not fear, not weakness, just the kind of wear you couldn’t shake. “I know that feeling,” Beth said. “When the quiet feels worse than the noise.”

 

Sasha blinked, but didn’t respond.

 

“I used to count windows,” Beth said suddenly, voice soft. “Back at the prison. I’d sit up late and count how many windows I could see through. Pretend they were homes with people still in ’em.”

 

Sasha finally turned her head.

 

Beth smiled faintly. “Didn’t help much. But it reminded me there was something worth dreaming about.” There was silence for a long while, until Beth spoke again, her voice soft and steady. “I’m not gonna pretend to know exactly what you’re feelin’. But I do know if you keep hiding up here, it’s gonna eat you alive.”

 

Sasha’s jaw clenched, and she looked back out the window.

 

“Come down for a bit,” Beth offered. “You don’t gotta smile or talk or anything. Just…come sit with me for a while.”

 

Sasha didn’t answer.

 

Beth waited another moment, then gently set a granola bar down beside her. “I’ll be in the yard.” she turned and walked out, and as Beth stepped into the sunlight again, she squinted up at the tower, unsure if her words had gotten through. But half an hour later, as she sat in the grass with Judith in her lap and her tea reheated in a fresh mug, Sasha approached, rifle slung loosely at her back. Her expression hadn’t softened much, but her eyes met Beth’s with something close to acknowledgment. She didn’t say a word, she just sat down beside Beth in the sun.

 

And for now, that was enough.

Chapter 33

Notes:

Got a little treat for everyone! One of my best friends ended up having her baby and to celebrate I'm releasing three chapters today! If time permits as well, I'll still have another update this Thursday / Friday too!

( Also I now recognize that Buttons from the show was male, I completely got him screwed up in my head with my other friend's horse who is also named Buttons haha )

The early morning light cut soft gold through the blinds, casting long beams across the breakfast table. Beth buckled her belt tight around her waist, then reached for her knife. The infirmary schedule hung on the wall behind her, ignored as she slipped her jacket on with a firm tug.

Maggie stood by the sink, arms folded, and eyes narrowed just enough to make Beth’s shoulders tense. “You really think this is a good idea?” she asked.

Beth didn’t turn. “You mean going out? Yeah, I do.”

“Beth.”

She sighed and turned, already braced. “We’ve talked about this.”

Maggie’s mouth flattened into a thin line. “No, I talked. You just said ‘I’ll be fine’ and packed anyway.”

Beth kept her tone calm. “I said I’d stay in the infirmary most days, but not every day. I ain’t useless outside, Maggie, and Daryl—”

“Daryl can handle himself,” Maggie said quickly. “You don’t need to be out there too.”

Beth’s brows lifted, unimpressed. “I’m not going to babysit him.”

“It’s not that.”

“What is it then?”

“You need to settle in,” Maggie said, frustrated. “You’ve got enough on your plate without traipsing around outside the walls with a crossbow you barely know how to use.”

Beth straightened. “That’s why I need the practice. What happens if there’s an attack and I freeze? What happens if someone needs help and I can’t even shoot straight? I need to know I can do this.”

Before Maggie could respond, Glenn stepped in from the hallway, half-eaten piece of toast in one hand. He took in the tension like a splash of cold water to the face. “Wow,” he said lightly, raising a hand, “is this the part where I back away slowly, or defuse the bomb?”

“Maggie thinks I should stay inside the walls like a good little nurse,” Beth said, voice clipped.

“I never said that,” Maggie muttered, but before she could say more Glenn wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “C’mon, let her go,” he said with a wink in Beth’s direction. “You know Daryl’s not gonna let anything happen to her out there. He’s got eyes like a hawk and reflexes like…I don’t know, a pissed-off raccoon.”

Beth softened at that, her gaze flicking to the door where Daryl would be waiting. She shouldered her pack. “I’m not gonna be gone all day, I’ll be back before dinner.”

Maggie exhaled slowly, clearly unconvinced but outnumbered. “If you get so much as a scratch…”

“I’ll clean and patch it myself,” Beth promised with a small grin.

Glenn gave her a gentle nudge toward the door. “Go, before she chains you to the table.” 

Daryl was already waiting by the gates, crossbow slung over his shoulder, leaning against the metal fencing like he had all the time in the world, but Beth could tell by the tap of his boot that he had been waiting. He looked up as she approached. His eyes swept over her once, lingering for a beat longer than necessary, before a slight lift of his brow passed for a greeting. “Took your sweet time,”

Beth smirked. “Had to survive the gauntlet first.”

“Maggie?”

“Yeah, but Glenn had my back.”

Daryl gave a small grunt that might’ve been sympathy, or amusement.

Nicholas, manning the gate with all the enthusiasm of a bored teenager, gave them a long look before unlocking it with a heavy click. “Be back before sundown,” he said flatly. “Or Maggie’s going to have my ass.”

Beth offered a polite smile. “You’ll still have your ass, don’t worry.”

Nicholas rolled his eyes, keying the latch before pulling the gate open and the two passed through it, the hinges squealing as it shut behind them.

They walked in easy silence for a while, boots crunching soft against leaf litter. 

“I’ve been practicing,” Beth offered. “Behind the house with targets.” 

Daryl glanced at her sidelong. “Maggie know that?” 

Beth grinned. “She’s got other things to stress about and Glenn’s not gonna tell.” 

He snorted but didn’t argue. 

After a pause, she asked, “When d’you think I’ll be ready for my own bow?” 

He looked at her again, slower this time. “You want one?”

“Well, you’re not always gonna be around to cover me.”

Daryl made a low sound in his throat, half protest, half scoff. “’S not true, I plan on bein’ around all the damn time.”

Beth laughed, the sound light as air. “Okay, fine. But maybe one day, I’m out in the woods alone and a squirrel attacks, you’re not there, what then?”

“You punch it.”

“Daryl.”

Daryl gave a low grunt that could have been a chuckle. "What, you think you earned it already?" 

Beth tilted her head, feigning offense. "I’ve gone out with you three times now. I hit that walker in the shoulder last time." 

He arched a brow. "In the shoulder. That supposed to be impressin' me?"

Beth smirked, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Better than missing completely.”

Daryl gave her a sideways glance, amused. “Barely.”

She bumped her shoulder into his. “You didn’t see how fast I drew. Quick like lightning.”

Daryl shook his head, but his lips twitched. “You keep talkin’ like that and I’m gonna start thinkin’ you believe it.”

Beth narrowed her eyes, walking backward in front of him now. “I do believe it. You saw me, I was quick, real quick.”

“You tripped on a root right after.”

“I recovered ,” she shot back, jabbing a finger in his direction. “Gracefully.”

“Graceful like a drunk baby deer,” he said, finally letting the grin break through. Beth let out a dramatic huff and spun on her heel to keep walking, but he caught her wrist gently and tugged her back just enough that she bumped into his chest. Her breath hitched, laughter caught somewhere in the softness between them. His hands rested loosely at her waist. “Hey,” he said, quieter now, “You’re doin’ good, alright?”

Beth blinked up at him, her annoyance melting into something warmer. “Yeah?”

Daryl nodded once, thumb brushing the hem of her jacket. “Yeah, just...don’t go rushin’ to prove nothin’ to anybody. Not to Maggie, not to me.”

She tilted her head, smiling up at him. “What if I wanna impress you?”

His eyes dipped to her lips, then back to her eyes, close and heavy-lidded with affection. “You already do.”

Beth’s heart swelled, the woods falling quiet around them. She leaned in and kissed him slow, like the moment deserved. When she pulled back, their foreheads touched, noses brushing, her voice barely a breath. “You’re kinda sweet when you’re worried.”

“Don’t tell nobody.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

_____________________________________

The woods were still, quiet in a way that meant no trouble, no walkers, no threat. Just the whisper of spring wind through the branches and the distant chirp of a bird overhead. Beth’s boots shifted lightly over the leaves, steadying her breath as she raised Daryl’s crossbow, squinting one eye shut to aim.

“Feet apart,” Daryl murmured beside her, his voice warm and close, gravel worn smooth at the edges. One hand slid to her waist, guiding her hips. “There. You’re stiff as a damn board, girl. Loosen up, it ain’t gonna bite.”

Beth smirked without looking at him. “I am relaxed.”

Daryl gave a low, amused grunt, pressing a little closer behind her. “Sure you are. Squeezin’ that trigger like it owes you money.”

She huffed but smiled, eye narrowing on the target. “Maybe it does.”

“Alright, deep breath. Squeeze, don’t yank.”

She let the arrow fly and it thunked against the bark of a nearby tree, several inches wide of the painted target on the stump. She exhaled through her nose in quiet defeat. “That’s worse than last time.”

Daryl’s hand came to rest at her lower back. “You’re gettin’ there,” he said, voice softer now. “Takes time. Took me a hell of a lot longer, ‘n I didn’t have me teachin’ me.”

Beth turned to look at him, her lips twitching with dry amusement. “Lucky me.”

He met her eyes and didn’t look away. “Damn right.”

She leaned in, letting her fingers brush lightly down his chest as he passed her. “I dunno, I feel like I might need a better teacher.”

Daryl tipped his head with a mock glare. “Careful, girl, or I’ll start chargin’ per lesson.”

Beth grinned. “Mmm, and what exactly do you charge?”

His eyes swept over her once, slow and teasing, “Haven’t decided yet.”

“Well, you better think fast,” she said, casting him a sideways look. “I’m gettin’ better every day.”

Daryl snorted, retrieving the arrow with practiced ease and handed it back to her. He was just about to step behind her again when his body froze. He tilted his head slightly, gaze sharpening.

Beth recognized that look now. The way he narrowed his eyes like a wolf catching a scent. “Walker?” she whispered.

He shook his head. “No. Not shamblin’, step’s too clean, weight’s in the heel. Not draggin’.”

Beth blinked. “So...a person?”

But before Beth could ask more, Daryl grabbed the crossbow and took off through the trees like a shadow, silent and swift. Beth hurried after him, staying close but not interfering.

Then—

“Don’t shoot!” A voice called out, breathless and surprised. A moment later, Aaron stepped from behind a tree, hands raised, looking sheepish and more than a little impressed. “Man,” he said, breath coming fast, “You can actually tell the difference between walkers and people just from the sound?”

Beth exhaled with relief, Daryl, however, didn’t lower the crossbow. “What the hell’re you doin’ followin’ us?” Daryl barked.

Aaron blinked, looking between them. “I wasn’t—I mean, I didn’t mean to follow follow. I was tracking something.”

Daryl narrowed his eyes. “Bull.”

“I swear,” Aaron said. “There’s a horse I’ve been trying to catch. I’ve seen her out here three times now. She’s got white patches on her sides, like clouds. Smart, fast—she’s been evading everyone, but I got a fresh trail.”

Beth blinked. “A horse?”

Aaron nodded, lowering his hands slowly.”I’ve named her Buttons. Thought if I could get close, maybe start training her. Alexandria could use her—transport, farming, morale.”


Beth’s face lit up like the sun breaking through clouds. Daryl glanced sideways at her, caught off guard by the pure, unfiltered excitement on her face. There weren’t many things that sparked that in her anymore, not after everything. But the thought of a horse?

That got her.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright,” he muttered. “We’ll help.”

Beth turned to him, eyes wide. “You sure?”

He shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “Reckon if we leave it to him, he’ll scare the thing off again.”

Aaron grinned. “I will not argue with that.”

Beth threw her arms around Daryl in a spontaneous hug, his hand came up to rest gently between her shoulder blades, warm and grounding. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He didn’t say anything. Just looked away with that same barely-there smile tugging at his mouth. “Alright.” He looked at Aaron. “Let’s go find your horse,” he said.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They’d been out for a couple hours now, walking further than usual for a supply run, but not quite as far as the old world felt.

Aaron paused, crouching beside a patch of hoofprints pressed deep into the mud. “She’s close,” he said, eyes scanning the treeline. “She came this way. Button’s front left shoe has a nick. Right there, see? It’s like a signature.”

Daryl stood behind Beth, arms crossed, eyes following the prints with a practiced squint. “Tracks’re fresh. Told ya we’d catch up to her,” he said, not smug, just certain.

Beth glanced up at him with a smile. “Look at you, bein’ all confident about it.”

He shrugged, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

Aaron grinned. “Gotta admit, wasn’t expectin’ you to volunteer. Thought I’d have to twist an arm or two.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Didn’t do it for you.”

Beth bumped her shoulder gently into his, grinning. “Nope, he did it for Buttons.”

Daryl groaned. “Can’t believe y’named the damn horse Buttons.”

Aaron gave a sheepish smile. “Figured it fit. Soft-hearted and fast on her feet.”

Beth giggled and gave Daryl a playful nudge. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

Daryl huffed but said nothing, squinting down the trail. Truth was, he agreed to help for one reason only, and she was standing beside him with light in her eyes. She was happy, and he’d follow that smile anywhere.

They found her near a stream just past the ridge, grazing with her ears flicking at every sound. A pretty palomino, ribs faint beneath her coat but otherwise healthy. Beth’s breath hitched when she saw her.

“Oh, she’s beautiful,” she whispered.

Aaron grinned. “Told you.”

Beth started to move to approach her, when Daryl spoke up. “Wait,” Daryl said gently, fingers brushing her arm. “Lemme.” She stopped, eyes meeting his. He didn’t say why, but he didn’t have to. So Beth nodded, heart skipping as he moved forward alone. Daryl approached low and calm, every motion deliberate. He spoke in that same soft tone she’d heard only in private, when he talked to Judith, or murmured things into her shoulder in the dark of their secret house. “Easy, girl…I gotcha. Ain’t nobody gonna hurt ya.”

Buttons shifted, ears flicking back. Daryl kept his stance low and his eyes steady, inch by inch he was closing the space between them. Beth held her breath.

Then a guttural groan broke the moment.

Beth’s head whipped around just as three walkers staggered out of the trees across the stream. One had a shredded lower jaw, dragging a torn foot behind it; another wore the remnants of what looked like a scout’s vest, soaked through with old blood.

“Shit,” Daryl barked, stepping back instinctively. His hand went to his crossbow but the angle was wrong, too close, so he grabbed his knife instead.

Buttons reared up with a shrill, terrified whinny, her hooves crashing against the streambed, the mare turned and bolted, crashing through the brush with a thunder of hooves.

“Buttons—!” Aaron cried out, but Beth grabbed his arm. “No time!” One of the walkers made a grab for her and Beth stumbled back, heart pounding, then drove her knife upward under its chin, the blade crunching through rot and bone. It collapsed at her feet.

Daryl was already moving, slamming another walker hard against a tree with his forearm, jamming his blade straight into its skull. It collapsed with a sickening crunch, his breath ragged.

The last walker lunged for Beth again, too fast, and too close. But Daryl was there before it reached her. He hooked an arm around her waist and yanked her back, thrusting his blade over her shoulder and burying it clean through the walker’s temple. It dropped soundlessly. Beth’s chest heaved as she stared at the bodies around them. Daryl didn’t let go. His arm lingered around her waist, grounding her. “You alright?” he asked gruffly, voice lower now, meant only for her.

She nodded quickly, pulse still thudding. “I—I had it.”

“I know ya did,” he murmured, brushing a bit of hair from her cheek with the edge of his thumb. “But I got you.”

She managed a breathless smile. “Always.”

Aaron bent over, hands on his knees. “Remind me never to doubt how fast you two can handle a mess.”

Daryl didn’t answer. He was still watching Beth, eyes narrowing slightly as if checking for any hidden wounds. She caught the look and rolled her eyes gently, leaning in just enough to bump her shoulder into his. “I’m fine,” she promised. “You?”

He gave a faint nod

Beth bent slightly, catching her breath. “She’s spooked bad, but she didn’t go far.”

Aaron straightened and peered into the woods. “You think we can still find her?”

Daryl didn’t look at Aaron. He looked at Beth—the flush in her cheeks, the stubborn flicker of hope in her eyes. And that was all it took. He exhaled, the edge of his frustration softening. “Yeah, reckon we try.”

So they pressed on, chasing the fading trail of hoof prints through the trees as the sun sank behind them. They chased her for what felt like miles through thick brush until Beth gasped, “There!”

The clearing opened wide, too wide.

And in the middle of it was Buttons, and she wasn’t alone.

More walkers, at least seven, had already reached her.

They didn’t hesitate, they charged into the chaos, Beth’s knife already in her hand. She ducked low and stabbed up into a walker’s jaw as it turned toward her, bile rising in the back of her throat at the hot spray against her arms. She pivoted, heart hammering, and slashed at another just as Aaron came in from the side, burying his blade in the temple of one that was a crawling torso with a shout of fury. Daryl’s crossbow had been dropped somewhere in the chaos—he was using his hunting knife, brutal and efficient, cutting down the undead with fast, vicious swipes.

But there were too many.

By the time they reached the last of them, Buttons had already collapsed, sides heaving. Her flank was torn open and raw, soaked in red. Her legs trembled, slick with her own blood and mud. One eye, wide, glassy, and terrified, searched the air as if begging someone, anyone , to undo what had happened.

Beth fell to her knees beside her. “No, no, no—oh God.” She pressed her hands over the gaping wound like it would help, sobbing breathlessly, “We’re here, we’re here, girl...”

Aaron stood frozen behind her, guilt clawing up his throat. “I just wanted to bring her back,” he said quietly. “Thought she deserved better than this.”

Daryl put a firm hand on his shoulder. “Ain’t your fault.”

The mare gave a low cry, a trembling, broken sound. One leg kicked out weakly, she wasn’t going to make it, they all knew it. Aaron knelt slowly beside her, pulling his pistol with shaking hands. He reached out, brushing Buttons’s mane like it would somehow ease what was coming. His voice dropped low as he whispered something only the horse, and maybe God, could hear.

Beth turned away as Daryl came to kneel beside her, burying her face against his arm.

The shot echoed through the woods, short and merciful.

Silence followed.

Beth stayed on her knees for a moment, blood drying on her hands as her knife dangled uselessly in her fingers. “I tried,” she whispered, voice cracking. “We tried.”

Daryl didn’t say anything for a long moment, He just cupped the back of her head, holding her as though he could will her grief to sink into him. “I know,” he murmured softly. “You did all y’could.” 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the now still body of Buttons, her voice small. 

Beth leaned into Daryl’s side, and he wrapped his arm around her, steady and strong. “C’mon.” he whispered, and gently helped her to her feet. Beth’s legs wobbled beneath her, and when they gave out, Daryl caught her before she hit the ground. He didn’t say anything—just lifted her until she was standing, keeping one arm firm around her waist. She leaned against him, quiet and trembling, still gripping the bloody knife. “Let’s get ya home,” he murmured. He guided her gently, hand secure on her arm, not letting go the whole walk back to the walls, Aaron following behind them, quiet, with his head bowed.

Buttons never made it home, but Daryl made sure Beth did.

————————————————————

The sky was dimming, streaked with gold and gray. Beth sat on the edge of the porch steps, her arms wrapped around her knees, chin resting on them. Her boots were caked in mud and something darker she hadn’t cleaned off yet, something she didn’t want to.
The image still clung to her mind: Buttons, broken beneath a tide of walkers. One moment wild and terrified, the next, ripped open, screaming, and then silent. She hadn’t spoken much since they got back. Not to Maggie, who had gently tried to get her to talk, to share what was weighing her down. Not to Aaron, who’d apologized again and again like it was his fault the world ate anything gentle. And not to Daryl, b ut she knew he was there now, leaning against the porch post behind her. He hadn’t said her name, he didn’t need to. His presence had weight, and she felt it settle around her like a familiar jacket. “You gonna come sit?” she finally asked.

He did. He dropped down beside her, boots thudding softly, one arm resting on his knee. She could feel the heat of him near her, the tension he always carried, but tonight, it was a little softer. He didn’t push, just waited.

“I keep thinkin’ about the horses,” Beth said, her voice barely above a whisper. “From the farm. How I used to go out in the early morning, before breakfast, and brush ‘em. Feed ‘em apples if I could sneak ‘em past Daddy.”

Daryl stayed quiet.


“They were wild in the morning,” she continued. “Like they’d been waiting all night to be free. I thought they were the bravest things in the world.” Beth wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand before anything could fall. “Buttons didn’t even try to run from them, she just stood there like she gave up. Like she knew there wasn’t room in this world for anything like her anymore.”

Daryl turned toward her, his shoulder brushing hers. “Maybe she was tired, maybe she’d been runnin a long time.”

Her throat caught. She nodded once, hard. “I just hate it,” Beth whispered. “Everything good and kind gets eaten up first.”

Daryl didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached out and took her hand, thumb brushing over her knuckles, calloused and gentle. “I get it,” he murmured. “I used to think...if I got too close to anythin soft, it’d get torn up too.” He looked down at their hands, then back at her, eyes darker in the fading light. “You’re the softest thing I ever let near me,” he admitted. “And you’re still here.”


Beth’s breath caught. She turned her hand and threaded her fingers deeper through his. “I’m not goin’ anywhere,” she whispered, leaning in and resting her forehead against his temple with a tired sigh. “I don’t wanna be tough all the time,” she whispered. “I just wanna care about things and not get punished for it..”

“You don’t gotta be tough,” Daryl murmured. “Not with me.”

She gave a watery smile, then shifted closer, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek that lingered. He turned to her then, and his hand came up to cradle the back of her head gently, drawing her in as he kissed her. Slow, aching, and certain. The kind of kiss that said everything without needing words. Beth melted into it, hands tangled in his shirt, fingers fisting gently in the fabric as if to anchor herself. When they finally broke apart, she stayed tucked against him, head resting on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

And for once, the world outside the walls felt far away.

Chapter 34

The house was too bright.

Beth stood near the center of Deanna’s living room, shoulders stiff beneath the soft cardigan Maggie had found for her: The first time she slipped it on, it had felt comfortable, but now? It felt suffocating. The light from the chandelier made everything look like a dream someone else was having. Everything was shiny, comfortable, and s afe. She could almost pretend this was a party from before.

Daryl had already made his choice before they even arrived—he was on the porch, away from the crowd, where he felt the most comfortable. Beth glanced at him through the window as he leaned against the railing, his eyes scanning the yard, distant and still. She understood why he wanted to be out there. It was easier to watch from the edges, easier to keep a safe distance from everything that felt foreign. Maggie, on the other hand, seemed radiant in the crowd, hands warm as she touched shoulders and smiled with a politician’s ease. Glenn was close by, his arm around her waist like she was his anchor. They looked happy , like they belonged here. Eugene stood near the hors d’oeuvres table, holding a plate stacked with oddly portioned canapés and explaining something about fermentation to a woman who looked slightly alarmed. Noah was by the stairs, chatting softly with Reg. His posture was straighter than it used to be, like he was beginning to believe he had a place here. Even Rosita and Abraham, standing side-by-side near the kitchen, looked more relaxed than usual—Abraham sipping scotch like it was a mission, Rosita nodding at something someone said, but her hand never straying far from her waistband. And Tara was telling a story to a small cluster of Alexandrians, making them laugh with her dry humor and wry grin.

Beth tried to absorb it all and relax, but something felt off. Like the room was rotating just slightly too fast. She raised her glass and took a cautious sip, but the taste hit her wrong. Her stomach lurched with an unexpected twist. It wasn’t strong, but it was sharp, and it came out of nowhere. She swallowed, breathing through her nose, trying to keep her face composed.

Rick was on edge, eyes scanning the room even while he pretended to drink. Michonne stood beside him, still and quiet, but her hand occasionally tapped his elbow like a quiet reminder: ease up.

Nausea crept up her throat like a wave, cold and sudden. Beth pressed her free hand to her stomach, trying to steady herself. Maybe it was the food, maybe nerves. She didn’t know. She hadn’t eaten much today, but even the thought of the canapés Eugene had stacked on his plate made her queasy. She glanced around the room again, catching sight of Sasha, who leaned against the wall, distant and watchful, her eyes a reflection of Beth’s own unease.

And then she frowned.

Carol wasn’t here.

Beth realized it suddenly, like noticing a missing note in a song. Carol was usually always nearby, floating just at the edges—watching, listening, pretending to be softer than she was. But tonight? Nothing. No floral blouse, no plate of food in her hand, no careful act of suburban normalcy. The absence scratched at Beth’s awareness like an itch she couldn’t quite place. She was still scanning the room when a quiet voice spoke near her shoulder.

“Hey there, Beth.”

She didn’t need to turn to know it was Pete. His voice was too smooth, too casual. Familiar in that way that wasn’t necessarily bad, but didn’t sit right either. Beth glanced his way with a tight smile. “Hey, Mr. Anderson.”

“Ah, no need for that. Just call me Pete.” He offered her a friendly grin, drink in hand. “I just wanted to say that your help at the infirmary has been a godsend, hope I haven’t scared you off yet.”

“No,” she said, a little too quickly. “Not at all. It’s been…good.” And parts of it had been, she liked helping. She’d been good at patching people up since the prison, since her dad. But sometimes, when Pete stood too close or leaned over her shoulder for too long, she’d feel something unsettled coil in her gut, something old, something she hated remembering. Pete’s hand twitched like he was about to touch her arm, but she stepped back, feigning a polite wince. “Sorry—I think I just need a little air. Something’s not sittin’ right.”

“Want me to walk with you?”

“No. I’m fine, really. Just a minute.” She didn’t wait for a response. The house suddenly felt too tight, too warm, too loud. The night air hit her in a wave, cool and cutting. But it wasn’t enough. Beth stumbled past the porch steps toward the railing, bracing her hands on the wood. 

Daryl turned at the movement, his back going straight when he saw her. “Beth?”

She didn’t answer. Her body heaved once, hard, and then she leaned over and threw up into the bushes below.

Daryl was beside her in an instant. His hand hovered at her back, unsure for just a second, then settled there gently. “Hey—hey, easy...” he murmured, voice low and steady. “I gotcha.”

Beth wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her cardigan, humiliated and shaky. “God,” she croaked, “that just...came outta nowhere.”

“You sick?” Daryl asked, brow furrowed. “What’d you eat?”

She shook her head. “Nothin’. Barely had anything all day, just felt hot all of a sudden.”

Daryl’s jaw ticked. He didn’t like this, didn’t like seeing her like this. His hand rubbed slow, steady circles between her shoulder blades, his touch familiar and grounding.

Beth stayed bent over the railing for a minute, trying to breathe through the lingering nausea, the cold air prickling against her skin. Inside, the laughter felt miles away now—like it belonged to people she didn’t know. She turned her head slightly toward Daryl, voice soft, almost hesitant. “Can we go to the house?”

Daryl looked at her. He didn’t need to ask which one.

Their house.

His hand slid from her back to her fingers, curling gently around them. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Let’s get outta here.” He helped her down the porch steps like she was something fragile. When she swayed just slightly, he steadied her with an arm around her waist, holding her close.

Beth leaned into him as they walked, her head brushing him. She didn’t speak again, and he didn’t ask her to. They moved together through the quiet streets, her hand wrapped in his, and their hearts falling in sync.

_____________________________

The early morning air in Alexandria was quiet and golden. Daryl sat hunched on the steps of the house he and Beth had crashed at, a cigarette dangling from his fingers.

“Daryl!”

He stiffened, half-turning his head to see Aaron jogging up with two steaming cups of coffee, wearing that too-earnest grin he always had. “Didn’t mean to ambush you,” Aaron said quickly, handing him a cup. “Figured you were an early riser.”

Daryl grunted, taking it. “Ain’t used to soft beds.”

Aaron glanced at the porch step beside Daryl, then sat without asking. His eyes flicked to the empty street, then to the house behind them. “You like this one?”

Daryl squinted at him. “It’s quiet.”

Aaron nodded like that meant something. “You’ve been sitting here since sunrise. Saw you when I passed earlier.”


Daryl just shrugged.

Aaron didn’t push. “You’re not one for parties, huh?”

Daryl snorted. “What gave it away?”

Aaron chuckled. “Didn’t see you with the rest of the crew.” Then, more seriously, he asked “I saw Beth leave, she okay?”

Daryl’s eyes flicked up, narrowing just a bit, not hostile, just guarded.

Aaron raised a hand. “Not prying. Just…she looked like she needed out.”

A beat of silence passed between them before he finally broke it. “Yeah,” Daryl muttered. “She’s okay.”


Aaron nodded, letting it rest. He sipped his coffee, then glanced back at the house again. “You know, if you wanted a place to yourself, you could ask Deanna. There’s a few more like this one—unused, quiet, and finished.”

Daryl looked at him, unsure. “Ain’t exactly settlin’ in.”

“I know,” Aaron said. “Doesn’t have to mean that. Just…might feel good to have a door you can close, somewhere you don’t have to be on edge.”

Daryl looked down at his coffee. He didn’t answer right away. Then, finally: “Yeah, might talk to her.”

Aaron smiled. “Good, I think it’d suit you.” He then tilted his head. “Look, I wanted to talk to you about something. Walk with me?”

Daryl gave a slow nod, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. They walked a few blocks in silence, past the freshly pruned hedges and quiet porches of Alexandria.

Finally, Aaron broke the silence. “You’ve been watching everybody.”

Daryl tensed.

“Not in a weird way,” Aaron added quickly. “You’re just… sharp. You know when someone’s lying. You know when something’s off. You keep your distance, but you see everything.”

Daryl glanced at him sideways. “So?”

“So,” Aaron continued, “I want you to consider doing what I do. Recruiting. Going out. Bringing people in.”

Daryl frowned. “Why me?”

“Because Eric can’t anymore,” Aaron said, his smile dimming a bit. “His ankle…he tries, but it’s not healing right. And you, you know how to track, survive, and talk without talking. And more importantly, you know the difference between someone who’s good and someone who isn’t. That’s not just instinct, that’s character.”

Daryl stared ahead, his jaw working.

Aaron let the silence stretch, then added, “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

They veered off toward the end of the street. Aaron led him to a garage tucked behind his house, pulling open the double doors to reveal rows of organized shelves, stacked with gears, pipes, rusted frames—and against the back wall, a half-built motorcycle under a tarp.

Daryl’s breath caught.

“I’ve been gathering parts,” Aaron said, stepping inside. “Thought maybe I could get it running again. But I’m no mechanic.” He looked back at Daryl, hopeful. “You are.”

Daryl stepped forward, slowly pulling back the tarp with reverence. The bike was rough, but salvageable. With work, it could run again. He ran a hand along the frame, the grease familiar and grounding.

“I don’t want to keep you locked behind these walls,” Aaron said gently. “I think you need something to do. A reason to keep movin’. And this job? You can do it your way.”

Daryl stood there a moment longer, then nodded once.

Aaron smiled. “I’ll let you think on it.” He turned to go, then paused in the doorway. “And seriously—about that house. I’ll mention it to Deanna if you don’t.”

Daryl gave a grunt that wasn’t quite a yes, but wasn’t a no either. He stayed long after Aaron left, fingers trailing over the parts, mentally sketching how he’d rebuild it.

This felt like it could be something.

This felt like a start.

__________________________________

 Beth leaned back in the rocking chair, the porch creaking slightly at the shift in movement as her boots propped up on the railing, holding a jar of warm lemonade in hand. The sun was shining, the breeze soft, and there were no walkers at the gate or rifles in their laps. It was strange, this kind of peace. Like trying on a dress that didn’t quite fit yet.

Tara was sprawled beside her on a wicker loveseat with a bowl of cherries in her lap, popping them into her mouth like popcorn while Noah sat cross-legged on the porch step, his back against one of the columns, watching the road with an easy smirk.

Beth took a sip of her lemonade, eyes narrowed slightly against the light. Her stomach still felt a little off—nothing bad, just…weird.

Noah glanced over at her, brow furrowed. “Hey, you good? You look kinda pale.”

Beth blinked, caught off guard. “What? I’m fine.”

Tara looked up from her cherry-picking, eyes flicking between the two of them. “You sure?” she asked lightly, but her voice was laced with something quieter, sharper. “You don’t look like your usual sunny self.”

Beth waved them off with a smile that tried a little too hard. “I didn’t sleep great, that’s all. It was hot, and the wine was gross.”

Noah chuckled. “You actually drank it?”

Beth shrugged. “Took a sip and regretted every second.”

Tara gave her a look like she wasn’t quite buying it, but didn’t push. Instead, she leaned back again and held out the bowl. “Cherries help everything. It’s science.”

Beth snorted and grabbed one, popping it into her mouth. “Thanks, Dr. Chambler.”

A silence settled for a moment, easy and warm.

Then Beth grinned, mischief tugging at her mouth. “So, who do we think’s got the weirdest walk?”

Tara grinned, eyes scanning the street. “It’s definitely that guy with the ponytail. Walks like he’s sneaking up on his own house.”

Noah snorted. “Nah, it’s the lady with the visor and yoga mat. I swear she’s never stepped on grass in her life.”

Across the street, a tall, thin man in khakis and a tucked-in polo stepped out of a house and waved awkwardly at them.

Tara waved back sweetly and then muttered, “There’s Dad #3 of the day.”

Noah tilted his head. “What’s our count up to?”

Beth tapped her chin. “Five dads, two awkward teens, and one guy who looks like he owns a sailboat he’s never used.”

“Ah, yes. The Land Captain,” Tara declared. “Seen but never sea’d.” She then squinted at a man across the street who was very determinedly power-washing his already clean driveway. “That one screams ‘definitely had a neighborhood watch Facebook group before the fall.’”

Beth snorted. “With a whistle clipped to his belt.”

“Definitely,” Noah agreed around a bite of apple. “He was the guy who called the HOA if your grass was a quarter-inch too high.”

Down the road, a woman walked by with a fluffy dog that looked like it had never seen mud in its life. She wore yoga pants, a ponytail, and a look like she was late for spin class despite the apocalypse.

“I didn’t know golden retrievers still existed,” Noah muttered.

“I didn’t know yoga pants still existed,” Tara replied, squinting. “How the hell did she keep those clean?”

Beth laughed so hard she nearly dropped her drink.

The laughter faded into something softer, the kind that lingers as comfort instead of noise.

Noah leaned his head back, soaking in the sun. “Feels weird, huh?”

Beth glanced at him. “What does?”

“This. Just…sittin’. Bein’ normal.”

Beth looked down at her hands, her smile faltering just a bit. “Yeah, but it’s nice.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Tara said, but her tone was warm. “Just enjoy it while it’s here.”

Beth looked out at the street again, at the trees blooming white and pink, the neighbors trying to reclaim routine, the porch beneath her feet that wasn’t scuffed from blood or boots. And for the first time in a long while, she believed she just might.

Tara suddenly sat straightened in her chair and pointed at a guy jogging down the road in compression shorts. “Okay. Him? Definitely a prepper. Had a stockpile of quinoa and water filters before this even started.”

Noah chuckled. “Bet he talks about his protein intake like it’s a personality trait.”

Tara grinned and raised her bowl of cherries. “To Judgy Porch Hour.”

Beth clinked her jar against it. “Cheers.”


________________________________________

The woods were quiet, except for the hush of leaves shifting in the breeze and the low crackle of a branch under Rick’s boot.

Carol had the duffel slung over her shoulder, heavy with stolen metal. She dropped it onto the ground, and the dull clink of guns landing against one another echoed into the trees. “I got them,” she said simply, unzipping the bag to reveal her prize. “In and out. Nobody saw.”

Rick’s jaw clenched, but his eyes gleamed. “Good.”

Carol glanced between them. “Pick your poison.”

Daryl stood a few feet back, crossbow slung loosely on his shoulder, gaze fixed on the dark line of trees. He didn’t move.

Carol raised a brow and took a step closer to him. “What? Don’t want one?”

Daryl’s jaw worked before he answered, voice low. “Don’t know if we need it.”

Rick shot him a sidelong look. “You trust them?”

Daryl shrugged, eyes still scanning the trees. “Don’t trust nobody, but I ain’t sure sneakin’ guns outta the armory’s the way we show we wanna live here.”

Carol blinked, taken aback, but not dismissive. “You think it’s gonna last? These people are playing pretend. Sooner or later, the real world is going to get in.”

Rick gave a slow nod. “They’re good people, but that doesn’t mean the world’s gonna care.”

Daryl hesitated. Then slowly, he stepped back from the bag, shaking his head. “I ain’t takin’ one.”

Carol raised a brow. “No?”

“I got my bow,” he muttered. “Don’t feel right, not yet.”

Carol gave him a long look, then smirked. “You are getting soft.”

Daryl gave her a look. “Nah. Just ain’t ready to play dirty in their backyard. Not ‘less we gotta.”

She stared at him for a beat too long, the humor gone from her eyes. “You sure that’s the reason?”

Daryl met her gaze. “You don’t gotta like it. I ain’t takin’ one.”

Carol’s lips thinned, but she nodded. “Alright then.”

Rick zipped up the bag without comment and slung it over his shoulder. “Suit yourself.”

They stood in silence a moment longer, the weight of their old world pressing in through the trees around them. Then they turned and walked back toward Alexandria with Carol leading, Rick quiet, and Daryl trailing behind with only his crossbow, and a decision he couldn’t quite explain even to himself.

Chapter 35

Beth stood in the kitchen, one hand wrapped around a glass of water, the other braced on the countertop. She blinked hard as her stomach rolled again, that same low, unsettling churn that had been coming and going all week. It was just her and Maggie in the house, Glenn had gone out with Noah for a short supply check, and Maggie was seated on the couch, going over maps and making little marks on them. She set the glass down and made it to the bathroom just in time. It wasn’t dramatic, just a small wave that left her pale and breathless as she rinsed her mouth in the sink and leaned against the counter. Her fingers trembled faintly as she clutched the edge of the porcelain.

A moment later, she heard footsteps padding across the floor. “Beth?” Maggie’s voice, just outside the door. “Everything okay?”

Beth cleared her throat quickly, flushing the toilet even though she hadn’t needed to. “Yeah—yeah, I’m alright. Must’ve been somethin’ I picked up from one of the kids in the infirmary. We had a little boy in yesterday, sniffly and clingy.”

There was a pause. “You sure?”

Beth opened the door with a small, practiced smile. “I promise. Just need some air.”

Maggie studied her for a beat. “You’ve seemed a little off the last few days.”

Beth shrugged. “You know me, I just...don’t handle bugs well.”

Maggie didn’t press, she just stepped aside so Beth could move past her and into the kitchen again. Beth went through the motions—making tea, popping a slice of bread into the toaster—anything to busy her hands. Maggie lingered in the doorway, arms crossed but not in judgment.

Beth turned to glance out the window, where Judith was toddling in the grass out front with Carl watching nearby, her fingers curled loosely around the mug in her hands.

“You working with Pete again tomorrow?” Maggie asked.

Beth nodded, eyes now on the steam curling up from her cup. “Probably. He’s been letting me shadow more, says I’ve got a steady hand.”

Maggie snorted softly. “You always did, you used to thread needles better than Grandma.”

Beth gave a small smile but didn’t answer. She leaned a little heavier against the counter, her fingers curling tighter around the mug.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Beth nodded quickly, maybe too quickly. “Yeah. Just tired, s’all.”

Maggie looked at her for a beat longer, then gave a slight nod. “Well, try to take it easy, okay?”

Beth murmured a quiet agreement, watching as her sister crossed the kitchen and disappeared back toward the maps on the couch. Once she was alone again, Beth exhaled slowly and set her mug down. Her hand drifted toward her lower abdomen, fingers splaying lightly there. The sensation wasn’t pain, just…a wrongness. A weight she didn’t understand. Her stomach still felt queasy, her head just a little too light.

It had been like this all week, little things, and small changes.

She hadn’t told anyone, not even Daryl.

Not yet.

Beth stood there for another moment, heart ticking faster than it should, then turned toward the bread that had finished toasting behind her. Busy hands, busy mind.

She still wasn’t ready to know, not really.

But a part of her already did.

_________________________________________________________

The sun had just started dipping low behind the rows of Alexandria rooftops, streaking the sky in a wash of honey and gold. In the driveway of the house he and Beth had quietly claimed as theirs, Daryl crouched beside the motorcycle Aaron had dropped off for him a couple days ago. It was in rough shape with a bent clutch lever, a busted ignition, and rust eating away at the frame—but it had potential, and Daryl understood potential. His hands were smudged with oil as he worked a wrench against the stubborn bolt, jaw set in concentration. A quiet shuffle behind him made him glance up. Beth padded toward him barefoot, a bottle of water in her hand that she set next to his boot once she knelt beside him on the concrete. “Hydrate or die-drate,” she said with a crooked smile.

 He huffed a laugh, picking up the bottle. “Ain’t exactly swelterin’.” 

“No, but you’re sweatin’ like a sinner in church,” she teased, wiping a smudge of grease from his cheek with the edge of her sleeve. 

Daryl leaned into her touch, just a little. then tilted his head to study her. “You feelin’ better?”

Beth hesitated just a second too long. “Yeah,” she answered lightly. “I think it passed.”

His eyes stayed on her, sharp beneath the furrow of his brow.

She reached for a rag from the ground and swiped it over one of the handlebars. “Guess I just needed rest, probably caught somethin’ little.”

Daryl didn’t look convinced, but he let it go for now. “Got some of the rust filed off,” he said, redirecting, nodding toward the frame. “Still needs a new throttle cable and the battery’s fried, but it’ll run.”

Beth traced the bike’s seat with her fingers, nodding. “Where’d you find this anyways?” 

“Aaron gave it to me, said ‘if I could get it workin’, it’s mine.” Daryl then paused for a beat, clearing his throat. “He offered me somethin’ too.” 

Beth looked over at him, curious. “Yeah?”

“Wants me to go scoutin’ with him, said he trusts my gut.”

Beth’s expression lit up, pride blooming across her features. “That’s perfect for you.”


He looked surprised. “You think?” 

“Of course I do.” She nudged his shoulder gently. “You know how to read people.” He shook his head a little, skeptical, but her hand found his and squeezed. “I think it’s good,” she said softly. “That you’re findin’ somethin’ to do here, that you’re not just waitin’ for it to fall apart.” 

He didn’t respond right away. Just looked down at their joined hands. The dirt and grease on his skin against the clean curve of her fingers. “Ain’t sure I want to leave you here, though. Ain’t gonna be gone long, but you say the word and I don’t go at all.”

“No, you go. Help ‘em find more people. Good ones. people like you.”

Daryl gave a low, dry chuckle. “Ain’t a whole lotta people like me, Beth.” 

“That’s why they need you,” she said, and kissed him gently, slow and sure.

Daryl didn’t pull away. He just let it happen, let the world get quiet and warm for a minute. When they parted, their foreheads lingered close. “You sure you’re okay?” he murmured again, softer now.

Beth nodded, eyes steady. “I will be.”

It wasn’t a lie, not really. Just a truth she was still working her way toward.

Chapter 36

Notes:

Double update this week since I was able to finish my shift up early yesterday to do some finishing touches!

Beth lingered by the infirmary shelves longer than necessary, fingers tracing the labels of old pill bottles as if she were actually reading them. She wasn’t. Her eyes flitted toward Pete, who was busy talking to a patient, and then quickly away. She didn’t want to talk to him. Hell, she didn’t want to be in this room at all. She swallowed hard and reached for the antiseptic, pretending to inspect it. She could just grab the test, and go. But the locked cabinet behind Pete’s desk held them, and Pete wasn’t exactly the type you asked for something discreetly, especially not something that would make him raise an eyebrow. She was about to leave altogether when she heard a soft clearing of the throat behind her.

“Beth.” Eugene nodded once, his hands clasped behind his back, as if trying not to touch anything. “Statistically, loitering in a sterile medical environment for longer than necessary increases exposure to ambient pathogens. Should I be concerned?”

Beth blinked at him, then, despite the nerves gnawing her insides, she smiled faintly. “Eugene…I need your help.”

He stiffened like a board. “To be clear, my expertise skews toward mechanical engineering, biofuel conversion, and various forms of tactical infrastructure. Medical assistance is…not among my specializations. Unless you require a tourniquet or, hypothetically, a crude defibrillator fashioned from a car battery.”

“No, nothing like that.” She lowered her voice and glanced toward Pete’s office again. “I just need to…get into that cabinet.”

Eugene’s eyes followed her gaze, then darted back to her face. A long pause passed before he spoke. “I surmise, based on context and the subtle dilation of your pupils when I mentioned ambient nausea two days ago, that you may be seeking a pregnancy diagnostic test.”

Beth turned crimson. “You just…guess things like that?”

“I observe, I calculate, and I refrain from making inferences unless prompted.” He hesitated, glancing briefly at her, then away, awkward but sincere. “But yes. Also, it bears mentioning that neither you nor Daryl have been especially subtle about your courtship. Statistically, the frequency of your nightly visits to the unfinished house on the north end exceeds that of any other resident-to-resident interaction in Alexandria—discounting, of course, Glenn and Maggie, who are, as the youth say, a statistical outlier. I have observed a clear pattern of shared proximity, increased duration of private conversation, and a not-infrequent exchange of what appear to be emotionally significant silences.”

Beth looked down, twisting the hem of her shirt between her fingers. “I’m not ready for anyone to know yet. Not even—” She stopped herself, cheeks warming.

Eugene held up a finger. “Say no more. Confidentiality assured. In fact, I consider this an ethical imperative. Now, if you’ll provide a brief distraction, I believe I can access the cabinet’s contents via an improvised lock manipulation technique. Which is to say…I’m going to jimmy it open with a paperclip.”

Beth stared. “You know how to pick locks?”

“I was a lonely child, and learned many skills to fill the empty time.”

She almost laughed.

Ten minutes later, tucked behind a storage curtain, Eugene pressed a small box into her hands. He was beet red. “If you’d prefer, I can offer statistical reassurance regarding false positives or the efficacy of early detection in—”

“Thank you, Eugene,” she cut in gently. “Really.”

He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. “You're...welcome. I must confess, this particular mission was not within the parameters of my usual skill set, but it seemed of import.”

Beth gave a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It is.” She looked down again, her fingers brushing the box. 

There was a long pause before Eugene cleared his throat and mumbled, “Do you wish for...solitude? While you perform the test?”

Beth nodded slowly. “Yeah, but...could you stay nearby? Just in case?”

He straightened. “Absolutely. I will assume guard duty in the hallway. If anyone asks, I am…deep in philosophical thought.”

“Maybe just say you’re waiting on Pete,” she offered dryly.

“An inferior cover story, but effective. Very well.”

He made it halfway to the door, then stopped and turned. “Beth?”

“Yeah?”

He hesitated, like his words were running diagnostics before they came out. “If the result is affirmative, and your life becomes significantly more complicated...I hope you know that won’t diminish my admiration. You’re...highly competent and also very kind. Statistically rare.”

Beth blinked, her lips twitching despite herself. “Thanks, Eugene. That means a lot.”

He gave a solemn little nod, then slipped out the door with a dignity that didn’t quite match his shuffling footsteps.

Left alone, Beth stared at the test in her hands again. The room felt quieter now. Still. She let out a breath and tucked the box under her arm before heading toward the restroom, her other hand unconsciously resting on her lower belly.

Whatever the result, she wasn’t facing it alone.

_________________________________________

The morning air in Alexandria was crisp, cooler than usual, with the kind of breeze that stirred fallen leaves across the pavement in soft, scratchy whispers. Daryl had been checking and reinforcing the wall line with Glenn and a couple others, his shirt damp with sweat, but his attention hadn’t been on the job for most of the morning.

It was on Beth.

She hadn’t been herself lately.

He’d seen it in the way she moved, slightly slower, pausing sometimes like she was lost in thought, a hand drifting toward her stomach before she caught herself and shifted it away. Her smiles were there, but off. Like she had to coax them into place. And when he tried to catch her eye across the yard earlier, she’d looked down fast, pretending to fiddle with something in her pocket.

“Hey,” Glenn said beside him, nudging him lightly with an elbow. “You and Beth okay?”

Daryl glanced over, brows furrowed. “What?”

Glenn adjusted his grip on the hammer. “Just…I’ve seen you look over at her three times in the last ten minutes, and I’m not exactly oblivious, man. Did something happen?”

Daryl shook his head, jaw tightening. “Ain’t nothin’.”

“You sure?” Glenn pressed, softer now. “Because she’s been real quiet, and not the usual Beth kind of quiet.”

Daryl looked away, eyes scanning the houses across the community. He caught a glimpse of Beth then, sitting on the porch steps of the house she shared with Maggie and Glenn, one hand wrapped around a mug she probably hadn’t touched in ten minutes, staring at nothing. He exhaled through his nose. “We didn’t fight,” he muttered. “She’s just…been off. Somethin’s goin’ on, and she ain’t sayin’.”

Glenn didn’t reply at first. He just watched Daryl as he scrubbed a hand through his hair, looking every inch the man who wanted to fix something but didn’t know where to start. “Could be she’s just tired,” Glenn offered, cautiously. “She’s been workin’ double shifts by running herself ragged between the infirmary and helping with Judith. Maybe she’s just worn thin.”

“Maybe,” Daryl said, but the word didn’t sit right in his mouth. Beth smiled at him yesterday when he kissed her cheek, but it had felt practiced, almost mechanical. She’d said she was fine, but the shadows under her eyes told a different story. He knew her well enough by now to feel the shift. And dammit, he hated not knowing how to fix it. “She’ll tell me when she’s ready,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

“Yeah,” Glenn said quietly. “She will.”

But the pit in Daryl’s stomach didn’t ease.

Across the community, Beth sat on the porch, mug lukewarm in her hands. Her eyes flicked toward Daryl once, just once, before drifting back down. Her stomach fluttered, unsettled. She hadn’t told him yet, she hadn’t even told Maggie. The test she’d tucked in her nightstand drawer said everything she was too scared to speak, she brought the mug to her lips and took a sip, even though the tea had long gone cold. 

Beth wasn’t ready to say it out loud.

Not yet.

But soon.

Because Daryl was watching her, and she knew he felt it.

__________________________________

Later, Beth walked beside Noah along the gravel path near the western wall, hands folded in front of her, cardigan sleeves bunched in her fists.

Noah held a rolled blueprint under one arm, the other gesturing animatedly as he spoke. “So Reg wants to reinforce this whole stretch,” he said, motioning toward the east end of the wall. “The beams here are from before, they’re good, but the weather’s wearing them down, so the idea is to double-stack reinforcement panels, maybe even build an exterior trench, like a slope.”

Beth nodded absently, watching the sun filter through the leaves ahead. “Mmhmm.”

Noah paused and gave her a quick side glance, then pressed on. “We’d need more scrap metal to do it, which means probably organizing a small salvage run. I told him I could ask Glenn or maybe even Daryl, but he thinks we might manage without leaving the gates if we get creative.”

Beth hummed again, gaze far-off as her fingers curled tighter in her sleeves.

Noah slowed his pace slightly. “He even mentioned maybe training a couple people to weld. Said if Alexandria’s gonna last, we can’t keep depending on the same few for everything. I was thinking about volunteering for it.”

Beth blinked and tried to focus, offering a polite smile. “Sounds smart.”

Noah stopped walking and turned to face her, one brow raised. “Okay, you just agreed that I should learn to weld, and that’s a terrible idea. I burned toast yesterday.”

Beth let out a quiet, breathy laugh. “Sorry. I’m just tired.”

He studied her for a second, not suspicious, just concerned. “You sure you’re okay?”

She hesitated. It was tempting, for a moment, to say no. To tell him about the twisting in her stomach that hadn’t gone away for days, the tight pull of anxiety that sat heavy in her chest like a stone. But she wasn’t ready, not yet. So she smiled again, softer this time. “I promise. Just one of those days.”

Noah nodded slowly. He didn’t press, just adjusted the blueprint under his arm and glanced up toward the walls again. “Alright. But if you change your mind and need to talk, or you want me to distract you with bad ideas and wall blueprints, I’m around.”

Beth bumped his shoulder gently with hers. “Thanks, Noah.”

Later, she walked the winding path back towards the house. Loose stones on the sidewalk crunched under her boots, soft and even in the stillness of the early evening. She wasn’t sure why her steps slowed as she neared the street. Maybe it was the silence, or maybe it was the weight inside her, no longer imagined. She was coming up the bend of the sidewalk when she saw them.

Daryl sat cross-legged on the bottom step of Rick’s porch, his hands held out like a cautious catcher’s mitt. And Judith, sweet, stubby-legged Judith, was wobbling toward him with intense focus, her chubby fists clenched, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

Beth stopped, her breath caught like a thread snagged on a nail.

Daryl wasn’t smiling, not really, but his eyes were soft, so achingly gentle it didn’t seem possible that they belonged to the same man who once flinched at eye contact. His hands hovered close as the toddler pitched forward, little knees buckling and he caught her just before she hit the porch. “There ya go,” he murmured, barely audible, his thumb brushing a bit of dirt from her cheek. “Told ya you got it.” Judith giggled, proud of herself, and promptly flopped backward into his lap like it had all been a game. Daryl chuckled, low and breathy, and pulled her close, letting her grab at the worn sleeve of his shirt.

Beth stood still, hands pressed flat against her belly through the thin cotton of her cardigan. It wasn’t the moment she expected, but it was the one she needed.

He looked like someone else in that second, not softer, not weaker, just...open. The man who had once been so quick to spit nails was now gently patting the back of a gurgling toddler, whispering nonsense words with that gravel-edged drawl.

Beth’s throat tightened. She hadn’t known when the right time would be to tell him. The thought of it scared her, what it meant, what it would change, if it would pull him back into that place where he thought he wasn’t good enough. But watching him now, arms steady around someone else’s baby like it was the most natural thing in the world, she realized something simple and certain.

Now was the time to tell him.

His eyes found Beth’s instantly. Daryl didn’t speak, he just looked at her quietly, a little uncertain, waiting for her to make the first move.

Beth stepped forward, her hands falling away from her middle. “Hey,” she said softly.

“Hey,” he replied, one hand brushing down Judith’s back.

Beth sat down next to him on the porch, the sun dappling her face. She reached out and traced a bit of grass from Judith’s curls.

Daryl’s voice was quiet. “She just...came up to me, didn’t know what to do.”

“You did just fine,” Beth murmured.

They sat like that for a while, in silence. Judith breathing softly against him and Beth’s fingers brushing the porch step beside his knee. And in that hush, Beth felt the words rising. Slow, certain, and ready. She turned toward him, eyes wide, and heart loud, but steady now. “Daryl...I need to tell you somethin’.” Her fingers brushed the edge of his hand.

Daryl just watched her, gaze steady beneath the scruff of his hair, and his hand turning slightly to curl his fingers over hers. Judith had dozed off, her little hand still gripping a fold of his shirt, and the warm weight of her against his chest made the whole world feel quieter than usual.

Beth shifted closer on the step, their knees brushing. She took a breath, and then another. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Daryl blinked, his brow pulling together. “For what?”

She shook her head. “I’ve just…I’ve been kinda distant lately. I didn’t mean to be. You ain’t done anything wrong.”

He was quiet for a beat, then shrugged with that soft gruffness that came out when he wasn’t sure how to respond. “Figured somethin’ was on your mind. Thought maybe you’d tell me when you were ready.”

That made her smile, just a little. God, he knew her better than anyone. “I wanted to,” she said, voice catching. “I do. I just…I didn’t know how.”

His hand tightened slightly around hers. “You can tell me anything, Beth. You know that.”

Beth looked down at their joined hands. His thumb was rough and callused, the skin smudged with a bit of engine grease, but she trusted that touch more than anything. Her heart fluttered hard against her ribs. This was the moment. She could feel it settling into her like a truth she was finally ready to speak. “I—”

“Dixon!” Abraham’s booming voice cracked through the street like a cannon blast.

Beth jolted, the words dissolving on her tongue.

Daryl’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing with an edge of irritation.

Abraham strode into view, waving one arm lazily like they were across a cornfield instead of twenty feet away. “Aaron’s lookin’ for ya. Says he needs your eyes on somethin’. You wanna play scout, time to saddle up, cowboy.”

“Now?” he barked in response.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, Romeo. Aaron’s waitin’ on ya.” Abraham jerked his head in the direction of the gate. “Somethin about campfire smoke, I don’t know—but he’s got his panties in a wad over it.”

Beth’s heart sank a little. 

Daryl’s whole body stiffened, like he was debating whether or not to tell Abraham to go to hell. He let out a sharp breath through his nose, clearly annoyed. “Dammit,” he muttered under his breath. He looked back at her, jaw twitching. “Sorry.”

Beth shook her head quickly, offering a smile she hoped looked steadier than it felt. “It’s okay, you should go.” Without needing to be asked, she held out her arms.

Daryl hesitated, then gently passed Judith to her. The baby murmured sleepily, curling into Beth’s chest as if it were second nature. Daryl’s hand lingered at Beth’s elbow a beat longer before pulling away. “I’ll come find you after,” he said, quieter now, the edge in his voice gone.

“Actually…” Beth swallowed. “Can you meet me at the house tonight?”

His gaze lingered on her face, searching it. Then he nodded. “Yeah, course.” Before he could fully get up, Beth caught his arm and leaned in. Her free hand curled against his cheek as she pressed a kiss to his lips, one that was gentle, lingering, and warm. The kind of kiss that said I love you and Please come back in one piece. It stopped him cold and Daryl kissed her back without hesitation, one hand settling against her knee like it might keep him grounded there a moment longer.

From the street, Abraham let out a low, exaggerated whistle. “Damn, Dix. Didn’t mean to interrupt the honeymoon.”

Beth pulled back, flushed but smiling against Daryl’s shoulder.

Daryl didn’t look at Abraham, he just muttered under his breath and leaned his forehead against Beth’s for a beat longer.

“Go,” Beth said softly. “I’ll be here.”

Daryl stood then, slow and reluctant, and pressed one last touch of his hand to her shoulder before he jogged down the steps, muttering something sharp at Abraham, who only grinned wider as they disappeared around the corner.

Judith stirred faintly in her arms, and Beth pressed a soft kiss to the girl’s hair as she watched him go, the words she hadn’t spoken still burning behind her lips.

Tonight.

She’d tell him tonight.

Chapter 37

The sky was ink-stained and quiet by the time Beth made her way down the empty street, the hem of her cardigan caught by the breeze. The lights in most homes had dimmed, and the cool hush of Alexandria after dark pressed gently around her like a held breath. Beth saw him before he saw her, sitting on the porch steps, his silhouette carved in moonlight, elbows resting on his knees. He was still in the shirt he’d worn earlier, and the porch light cast a soft gold on his hair, just enough for her to see how his head tilted when she approached. She held the pregnancy test in her pocket. Just a small plastic thing, but it felt like it weighed as much as the moon at that moment. Beth didn’t say anything at first, she just walked over and sat beside him, her thigh pressed lightly against his, and he just glanced sideways at her, eyes tired but soft. For a moment, her lips parted…but no words came, and so she closed her fingers around the test in her pocket before holding it out to him rather unceremoniously.

Daryl glanced down at what she held in her hand. A white plastic stick; simple, and ordinary except for the two pink lines that cut through it like a brand. Daryl stared at it for a long time, he didn’t move, he didn’t even speak.

Beth didn’t say a word either, just sat beside him with her breath caught in her chest and her fingers trembling ever so slightly.

Finally, Daryl reached out and took the test, holding it carefully as if it might break. He looked at it, then at her, before looking back at it again.

Beth wasn’t crying, but she was close. She watched him, and waited. But the silence stretched too long, and her nerves frayed with it. “I—I didn’t mean to wait so long,” she whispered, voice small. “I wanted to wait until I was sure, I didn’t want to scare you.”

He shook his head, eyes fixed on hers now. “I ain’t scared,” he said.

“You sure?” she asked, her voice tight.

Daryl swallowed. “No, but I ain’t runnin’.”

That’s when Beth broke. Her breath hitched, just once, but then it came faster and harder until she was gasping through the first sob. “I—I’m sorry,” she blurted, the words tumbling over themselves. “I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t trying to—it just happened, and I was scared, and I didn’t know how to tell you, and I thought maybe it wasn’t real but it is and I don’t want you to be mad, I’m so sorry—”

Daryl turned fast. “Hey, hey—Beth,” he said quickly, catching her face in his hands; there was a slight tremor in them.

But she couldn’t stop, the dam had broken. “I know the world is shit right now, and I know this isn’t what you wanted, and we’re just settling here and now you’re stuck with me and I ruined everything—”

“Hey—no— no, ” he rasped out, voice cracking. “Don’t—don’t say that shit, Beth. You didn’t ruin anythin’.”

Beth was crying too hard to catch her breath, and it was raw now, ugly, with hiccupping sobs that hitched hard in her throat, and sharp little gasps like she couldn’t pull in enough air, like her lungs had forgotten how. Her body shook under his hands, not just trembling but unraveling, like every part of her was splintering, coming apart at the seams, breath by breath, sob by sob.

“ Stop it, ” Daryl said, and it came out sharp, not because he was angry at her , but because it was the only way he knew how to slice through the noise in her head. “Look at me.” Beth tried, blinking up at him through a blur of saltwater and panic. “You didn’t ruin anythin’,” he said, every syllable slow, his jaw clenched tight and his voice raw like it was dragged over hot concrete. Daryl’s hands gripped her tighter, like she might come apart otherwise. “You hear me? I ain’t stuck neither.”

She was still crying, her shoulders shaking. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I ain’t just sayin’ it,” Daryl said, eyes locked on hers, and his forehead nearly touching hers now. His voice was wrecked, rougher than it had ever come out before, like it hurt to speak this truth, like it was being torn straight from someplace buried too deep for words. “Ain’t never been the type to talk just to make someone feel better. You oughta know that by now.” Beth let out a sound that was half-sob, half-breath, and he pulled her in, arms coming around her tight, encompassing her like armor. “I’m here, alright?” he said into her hair, voice low and shaking. “I’m here. You didn’t ruin nothin’.”

Beth still trembled in his arms, her fingers fisting in his shirt like she didn’t believe him, not really, not yet.

Daryl leaned back just enough to see her, to cup her face again between his palms. Her cheeks were flushed, streaked with tears, and her sweet cornflower eyes were wide and bloodshot and desperate. His thumbs brushed under her eyes, callused and clumsy, but careful. He swallowed, hard. “Yeah, I’m scared.” he said, quieter now. “I’m fuckin’ terrified.” Her body jerked slightly at that, like part of her expected it, maybe even needed to hear it. “But not of you,” he went on. “I ain’t scared of you. I’m scared of messin’ this up. Of screwin’ you up. You deserve good, Beth. Real good. Better’n me.”

Beth tensed in that moment, like she might pull away, but instead she straightened and lifted her tear-streaked face, hands trembling as they came up to his cheeks, cupping him with a touch that was gentle but looking at him with a gaze that had fire in it, something that cut clean through the doubt trying to fester in his gut. “You are good, Daryl Dixon,” she whispered fiercely, her voice cracked and wet with tears, but sure. “Don’t you dare act like you ain’t. Don’t you dare try to write yourself off.”

Daryl blinked at her, and it hit like a punch how steady her hands were, how goddamn certain she looked even with tears still falling on her face. He felt something deep inside shift, like a rusted lock finally breaking loose. His throat bobbed around a swallow he couldn’t quite manage. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doin’,” he admitted, voice breaking just a little. “But I ain’t mad, I ain’t scared of you,” His voice softened then by just a fraction that was barely there. “And I sure as hell ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Beth melted against him at that moment, like her bones had turned to water. One second she was holding his face with eyes full of fire, and the next she was folded into his chest, arms around him, and face buried against his shirt with a sob so deep and full of ache it sounded like it had been clawing its way out of her since the moment she saw those two lines. Her whole body shuddered with it, fists curling in the cotton over his ribs like she was trying to anchor herself to him.

Daryl didn’t flinch. His arms came around her tightly, as tight as he could without crushing her. He cradled the back of her head with one hand, fingers threading through her hair while the other stayed firm around her back as she broke and spilled everything she'd been holding in. Daryl didn't speak or hush her, he just rocked gently, like he could ease the quake out of her body.

Her breathing was wild against his neck, her chest shaking with every jagged inhale, and still he didn't let go. He closed his eyes and rested his chin against the top of her head, pressing his mouth to her hair and breathing her in. "I'm sorry." Beth whispered, the sound cracked and raw like her voice had been scraped down to the bone.

“I’m not,” he said into her hair, his breath warm against her scalp. He said it without hesitation, because he wasn’t. Not even with his pulse stuttering and the whole damn world shifting sideways. “Ain’t sorry for one damn second.”

Beth didn't answer right away, she just kept clinging to him as the storm inside her slowly began to ebb. Her breathing came in softer waves now, no longer the drowning gasps from before but something worn and tired, like she'd cried herself hollow and didn't have much left but the weight of it all. Minutes passed, and maybe hours, but he wouldn’t have moved even if the world caught on fire around them. It was a long time before she lifted her head. Her face was blotchy, and her eyes swollen with lashes that were soaked and clumped from tears, but she looked at him like he was the only thing in the world she could still see clearly. “You still want me?” she asked, her voice hoarse and tentative, barely more than breath.

Daryl didn’t answer right away, not because he didn’t know, but because it felt too big to fit in just words. He reached instead and brushed his thumb gently across her cheek, wiping away the last salt trail her tears had left behind. His fingers lingered there, warm and rough and careful. “Always,” he said finally, and his words were low, but sure. Then he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Not a quick one, not a nervous brush. But something long and solid like a vow that his lips sealed there. He rested his forehead against hers after, breathing with her and keeping her wrapped in his arms for as long as she needed him to.

There was a new world coming now while the old one was still outside burning. 

Maybe a terrifying one. 

Maybe a beautiful one.

Whatever it was, they’d face it together, that much was certain.

_____________________________________________________________

The night held still around them, wrapped in shadows and quiet. No crickets, no wind, just the soft creak of wood settling and Beth’s steady breathing beside him.

Daryl lay on his side in the dimness of the half-built house, head propped on one arm while the other was wrapped around Beth, her body curved gently into his. She looked peaceful now, the worry lines smoothed from her face. She’d cried herself hoarse earlier, worn down to the bone with all the fear and guilt she’d been holding in; and it killed him, knowing she’d been carrying that weight alone. God, he hated that he'd let her feel alone for even a second.

Now she was asleep, breathing soft and slow, like she trusted him to hold the world steady.

He still didn’t know what he’d done to earn that, to deserve it. Daryl stared at her in the dark while his thumb brushed the slope of her spine through the soft fabric of her shirt, every inch of her tucked close. The moonlight catching in her hair like silver threads.

His chest ached.

Growing up, he didn’t know people could love each other like this. His old man hadn’t loved anybody, he used to stomp up the stairs drunk, voice slurred and heavy with venom. The sound of boots on wood still made his stomach knot if he heard it just right. Home had never been safe. Not for him, and not for Merle. They’d both learned early how to disappear without leaving, his brother teaching him how to stay invisible, how to bite his tongue, how to survive the holler with as few bruises as possible. 

There was no softness in that house. No warmth, no “I’m proud of you.” no “I love you”, Just the sound of a beer can cracking open and a belt hitting the floor.

He thought of his ma, and how soft she’d been when she wasn’t drinking, how she used to hum old country songs before life gutted her out and turned her into a hollowed shell who looked right through him, her love came second to whatever was in the bottle. Daryl used to dream she’d come tuck him in one night, just once, but she never did. Daryl thought about all the times he’d hidden in closets, how he’d flinch at every slammed door, and how many times he’d been told he was good for nothing. And for a long time, Daryl thought that was what he was gonna be, too. A ghost of a man. Quiet, angry, and alone. He never imagined he’d have this. That someone would ever look at him like he wasn’t all the things he’d been told he was. Like he could be something else, something more.

But then there was her.

Beth Greene, who was stubborn as hell and sweet as spring. Who still smiled and laughed like the world hadn’t tried like hell to beat it out of her. Who hummed little bits of songs that had no tune, no words, just feeling. Who always took the time to cover the dead, walkers even, if she could; for the people they once were, giving dignity to strangers the world had already thrown away. Who used to sit with the kids in the prison courtyard, teaching them how to braid string or whistle through a blade of grass. Who saw right through him like fog on glass, unafraid of what was underneath the dirt, the silence, and the temper. Who looked at him like he hung the stars.

And now she was carrying his child, their child.

That thought kept hitting him in waves, slow and heavy. Not just the shock of it, but the weight, the meaning . She hadn’t needed to say anything, she just handed him that little white stick and it did all the talking for her as she stared at him with wide, teary eyes. And all Daryl could do was sit there like a goddamn idiot, holding that test in his hand, while the woman he loved started to cry.

She’d looked so scared.

“Do you still want me?” She’d whispered it like she was afraid of the answer. Like he could ever not want her. Like this, her, the baby, them , could ever be a burden, how she thought that she might have been someone who wasn’t worth staying for.

It tore him apart.

She didn’t know that when the prison fell and the whole damn world turned black again, she was the only thing that had carried him forward. When it was just the two of them, running for days, dirty and bleeding and alone, he was sure the others were dead, that everyone was dead; he’d started to cave in on himself, he would've crawled into the dirt if she'd let him, but Beth hadn’t let him.

She kept him moving. She kept talking and kept singing .

Beth gave him her faith when he had none left of his own, she sat with him beside fires made from twigs that barely stayed lit and told him stories about better days, not because she was naive, but because she believed they could still have some. She looked him dead in the eye and said, “We’ll find them.” Like it wasn’t a maybe, like it was already done.

He didn’t just want her, he needed her like air, and he’d spend the rest of his life making damn sure she never had to wonder again.

Beth shifted a little in her sleep, pressing closer, her leg sliding over his. She made a soft sound, one hand tightening in the fabric of his shirt and the other, that had been cradled against her navel was now tucked under her chin.

Carefully, slowly, Daryl’s hand moved to her stomach. He let his fingers brush her skin first, testing the moment, before he flattened his palm against the gentle rise of her abdomen.

Warmth bloomed beneath his hand, quiet, still, and alive.

He remembered once, when he was maybe six or seven, he’d watched a man across the street carry his little girl up onto his shoulders. She’d laughed so loud it echoed. Daryl had stood behind the screen door and just stared, aching so deep in his ribs it felt like hunger. He’d wanted that, wanted someone like that. And now, he would be that someone. He wasn’t going to be like his old man, he refused . Daryl would learn what being a father meant and he’d learn damn well, day by day, even if he stumbled through it. He’d teach them how to fish, and how to track prints in the mud and tell which ones were deer and which were rabbit. He’d teach them to shoot when they were big enough. He’d let them sit on his lap and steer the bike up and down the road, feeling like the whole world was theirs.

He’d be patient, and kind, and there and he’d fight tooth and nail to give that baby better than he ever had.

Daryl pressed a kiss to her temple, gentle and reverent. “I got you,” he murmured. “Both of ya.”

The world could fall apart again, and it probably would.

But this, this family, this tiny thread of hope they were building, he’d fight for it.

And he’d protect it with everything he had.

Chapter 38

Notes:

Did some tweaking on these next few chapters because I wasn't really satisfied with how short they were so I wanted to add a bit more meat to them for you all c:

I also tweaked Denise's backstory a little bit as I know in the cannon she was already in Alexandria by the time out group arrived but we didn't see her AT ALL during the settling in period and I had honestly thought she was brought in later, so since I'm expanding the timeline where they are settling into Alexandria here I decided to give Daryl and Aaron some successful people finding runs!

The sun hadn’t fully crested the horizon yet, but the sky was already streaked in pale pink and muted gold. Alexandria stirred gently, the morning quiet broken only by the hum of insects and the soft crunch of boots over pavement.

Daryl was out front, tightening the strap on his crossbow. He hadn’t wanted to wake Beth, not after the night they’d had, but he’d brushed a kiss to her temple before slipping out. She was still curled up under the blanket, hand resting just above where his had settled on her stomach hours earlier.

Aaron came jogging up the path, slightly out of breath but cheerful as always. “You ready?”

Daryl gave a slow nod, falling into step beside him as they headed toward the front gate. They walked in silence for a while, the peace between them easy. Daryl’s fingers fidgeted briefly at his belt, like there was something stuck behind his teeth. After a stretch, he spoke. “That house, the unfinished one by th’north wall...”

Aaron looked over. “The one with the screened-in porch you and Beth keep disappearing to?” His tone was light, and teasing.

Daryl didn’t take the bait. “I want it.”

Aaron paused, studying him for a beat. “You sure? I mean, you can take your pick of any of the empties but why that one? There are nicer ones that are finished with working lights and hell, furniture.”

Daryl’s mouth twitched, the edge of his jaw tensing like he was grinding down something trying to crawl its way up. “Just…figured it’s quiet.” he shrugged. “Sun hits the yard right in the morning.”

Aaron gave a slow, curious smile, tilting his head. “You getting into landscaping now?”

“Just don’t want someone else’s leftovers, want somethin' we can make ours.”

Aaron studied him for a second, something understanding flickering in his eyes. “You and Beth?”

Daryl gave a grunt. “Yeah.”

“Well,” his expression softened. “I’ll make sure Deanna knows it’s claimed.”

Daryl huffed, the barest curve of a smile on his face. “Thanks.” he hesitated for a moment, before adding: “Don’t...don’t go tellin anyone else yet.”

Aaron turned toward him fully this time, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Anyone in particular you don’t want me tellin’?”

Daryl didn’t answer right away. He just scratched at the back of his neck and looked past Aaron toward the top of the walls, squinting like the sunlight was bothering him. “I wanna fix it up some, surprise her.”

“Understood,” Aaron said, voice quieter now. “Mum’s the word.”

The sun rose a little higher, and before they slipped out of the gate Daryl glanced once over his shoulder in the direction of the house that wasn’t quite theirs yet.

But soon it would be.

______________________________________________________________

By the time Beth slipped quietly through the front door that morning, the shared house was already empty. The half-drunk mug of coffee left on the kitchen counter and the faint creak of a closing cabinet from earlier told her they hadn’t left long before she arrived. Beth exhaled softly, her fingers lingering on the door frame. Maggie was going to ask questions. Not just about why Beth hadn’t come home last night, but about the sudden, unmistakable change in her mood. About the color back in her cheeks. About the way her steps didn’t drag anymore. Beth couldn’t blame her. She hadn’t exactly been subtle this past week. She’s been nauseous, pale, and anxious. A shadow of herself. But this morning…this morning she felt something else entirely.

Grounded.

Hopeful.

Wanted.

She gave herself a moment, just a moment, to press her fingers lightly to the soft plane of her stomach, it being no longer something she feared. Daryl knew now. And he was still here, that changed everything. By mid morning, she was already at the infirmary, sleeves rolled to her elbows and humming softly under her breath as she organized bandages and re-sterilized the scissors and clamps from the previous day. Pete was out doing house calls, which left her alone in the clinic, not that she minded. The clinic door creaked softly as she stepped outside, tucking her notebook under one arm and blinking against the now late morning light. She paused on the porch just to take a breath and enjoy the cool breeze that rolled by when she saw them.

Rick and Jessie.

They were walking along the main path, their heads angled slightly toward each other in conversation. Jessie was smiling, small but genuine, while Rick’s expression was softer than what Beth was used to seeing on him. No scowl, no tension. Just a man walking with a woman, his hands in his pockets and his stride a little less guarded than usual.

Beth tilted her head, just a fraction.

Jessie’s laugh was quiet, but Beth caught it anyway. Rick glanced over at her, his mouth twitching with the hint of a smile before he looked forward again, saying something low that Jessie nodded at. It wasn’t anything obvious, no hand-holding, no lingering touches, but Beth knew what she was looking at like the back of her hand.

It reminded her of the way Daryl used to stand just a little too close when he thought no one noticed. The way he’d hover in a room, eyes always finding her, even if his hands never did. How they used to walk side by side in silence, and how the silence had never once felt empty.

Beth looked away before Rick or Jessie noticed her watching. A faint smile ghosting across her lips as she pushed open the infirmary door with her hip and stepped back inside.

The smile didn’t last.

As her hands moved and her tasks changed, Beth’s thoughts wandered back to the sight of Rick and Jessie walking like the rest of the world didn’t exist around them. It wasn’t judgment, not even surprise, just...understanding.

And then her mind wandered to Pete.

Beth moved on instinct, setting the clipboard down and crossing to the sink to wash her hands, the faucet sputtering briefly before warm water poured over her skin. She focused on the rhythm—scrub, rinse, dry—trying to shake the discomfort that clung like burrs beneath her ribs.

Pete hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. He was polite, he smiled just the right amount, and spoke to her like a teacher might—just a little too smooth, just a little too knowing. Never unkind, and never cruel.

And yet…

There was something off in how he and Jessie acted around each other. She hadn’t seen Jessie in the infirmary much, not unless she was bringing in one of the boys, but she noticed the way Jessie would stiffen when he was around, her voice quieter, movements more contained. Pete barely looked at her, and when he did, it was detached. There was no trace of warmth, no instinctive reaching, no ease..It was the opposite of what Beth felt when Daryl walked into a room. She’d lean into his presence without even realizing it, her whole body loosening like it had been waiting. His eyes would always seek hers first, no matter what.

Pete didn’t look at Jessie like that.

Rick wasn’t stupid. He’d been through too much not to notice when something was off. But if she was right then that meant things were far more complicated than they looked.

Beth hoped, deeply, that her instincts were wrong.

But too many times, they hadn’t been.

______________________________________________________________


The gates of Alexandria eased open with a familiar groan, letting in the last golden light of the afternoon. Dust clung to Daryl’s boots as he stepped through beside Aaron, their return quiet but purposeful. Between them, Denise limped slightly, one arm draped over Aaron’s shoulders, her jaw tight but her eyes alert. They’d found her in an old veterinary clinic just off the main road, half-collapsed and smelling of mildew. She was tucked in the back behind an overturned desk, wielding a fire axe with both hands, clutching its handle like a lifeline.

As they passed the row of townhouses near the front gate, Daryl slowed.

Aaron caught the shift and looked over. “You heading back to the house?”

Daryl nodded once. “Yeah. Got some fixin’ to do.”

Aaron adjusted Denise’s weight gently against his side and gave a faint smile. “I’ve got it from here. I’ll take her straight to Deanna and get her settled, she’ll want to talk to her anyway.”

Daryl offered a short nod before turning off down the street. The noise of the gate faded behind him, swallowed by the stillness that wrapped around the far end of the block. His boots hit the porch steps with steady weight, and when he opened the door, the late sun stretched long across the floorboards, catching in motes that hung in the air. Inside, it smelled like dust and old wood. It was a far cry from the other homes in Alexandria that had finished walls and real carpets. But this one, it was theirs, or it would be. Daryl walked in, beginning to survey each spot like it was a puzzle only half-finished. He went through the front room first, trailing his fingers along the raw wooden frame where molding hadn’t been nailed down yet. The floor had a spot near the fireplace that dipped just slightly. He crouched and ran his palm across the uneven planks, it was going to need sanding, he made a note of that in his head. 

Beth would want curtains too, not old sheets or boards, but real ones—soft, light-catching fabric that danced when the windows were open. Maybe she’d sew them herself if she found the time. Maybe she’d ask Carol to help.

He moved toward the staircase and ran his fingers lightly along the banister. The wood was unfinished, a little rough. He made a mental note to sand it down later, maybe stain it. Make it safe, make it right.

The bedroom was off to the left, their bedroom.

Right now it only held a mattress on the floor, a bundle of extra blankets, and a single chair by the window. Daryl stood in the doorway, arms crossed loosely over his chest, taking it in. It’d do for now—but Beth? She deserved more than a mattress on the ground. They’d need a real bed. Something solid. Something soft and warm where she could rest without worry, especially as the baby grew. He could build a frame if he had to. Might take him a few nights, but he’d do it. She wouldn't sleep on the floor again, he wouldn’t allow it.

And then there was the smaller room across the hall.

The drywall in there was still exposed, and one of the floorboards dipped slightly near the wall—but it had a window that faced the east. Morning sun would flood it in gold. He stepped inside, boots scuffing the wood, and looked around with narrowed eyes. It wasn’t much, not yet. But it could be a good nursery. Beth would want something peaceful. Maybe pale yellow on the walls. Or soft green. Something that made the world feel a little kinder. She’d probably hang something handmade—maybe little stars or birds. She had that quiet way of making things feel alive without trying.

He’d need to fix the floors, build a crib, and maybe a little shelf for books. He’d never read much himself, but Beth would. She’d sit in a rocker and read bedtime stories in that soft voice of hers while the baby curled up against her chest. And he’d be there, he’d fix what needed fixing, and build what needed building. Hell, he’d figure out how to hang goddamn wallpaper if that’s what she wanted. He took one last look at the room before heading back down the stairs. There was still so much to do. But he didn’t feel overwhelmed, he felt driven.

There was work to be done.

But he’d never minded work.

______________________________________________________________

The sun was starting to dip when Daryl showed up on the porch, something bulky and awkward tucked beneath one arm and wrapped in a faded floral sheet that looked like it’d once belonged to someone’s grandma.

Beth looked up from the porch steps, where she sat scribbling idly in her journal. The second she saw him she smiled, but her eyes drifted to the lumpy, ridiculous bundle he was holding. “You bringin’ me a corpse?” she teased.

He grunted, not rising to the bait. Instead, he walked up and set the bundle down gently beside her. “Found it,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Storage shed by the east wall. Thought maybe you’d…I dunno, want it.”

She squinted in mock-suspicion. “You’re actin’ like you’re handin’ me a bomb.”

“Ain’t a bomb.”

“Good,” she teased gently, flipping the journal shut. “Because I already got enough excitement in my life.” Beth set her journal off to the side and lifted the floral bundle in her lap. Something about the way he stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, looking everywhere but at her made her heart soften before she’d even seen what was inside. She tilted her head and unwrapped the sheet slowly—and when she saw what lay beneath, her breath caught. It was a small, bright pink plastic keyboard with a toy microphone shaped like a daisy sprouting from one corner. A faded sticker of a cartoon unicorn still clung to the corner, and the speaker grille was shaped like a heart. A few of the keys were scuffed or sticky-looking, and the on-switch had a smiley face drawn on it in marker. There was a button shaped like a heart labeled “DISCO MODE” and another that proudly boasted “COW NOISE.” It was obviously meant for a child. “Daryl…” she breathed, fingers hovering above it.

He shifted on his boots, immediately looking like he regretted the whole thing. “It’s dumb, I know. Ain’t a real piano or nothin’. I just—saw it and thought of you. Figured you might be missin’ music, even if it’s kiddie crap.”

It wasn’t the piano she had back at the farm, or the one that was at the funeral home.

It was completely ridiculous and unbelievably silly.

It was perfect.

Beth reached out, touching the yellowed keys gently, like they were made of porcelain. “It’s not dumb.” her voice was tight, barely a whisper. “It’s perfect.”

He glanced at her, uncertain. “....Y’really like it?”


“I love it.” She powered it on, and the keyboard lit up, static popping out of the speakers before they sputtered out a cheerful digital trill, followed by a chirpy mechanical voice that shouted “HEY ROCKSTAR! READY TO JAM?!” and then launched into a mangled version of Beethoven’s Fifth with drums and meowing cats layered underneath. Beth laughed, half a gasp, half a sob. “Oh my God.”

“Jesus.” Daryl looked mortified. “Didn’t know it did that.”

“It’s wonderful.”

Something in his chest seemed to loosen. He gave a quiet grunt and sat down beside her, their knees touching.

Beth hit a button and the keyboard launched into a garbled, high-pitched version of Mary Had a Little Lamb . “Okay,” she muttered, hurriedly pressing more buttons until the music stopped. “That one’s terrifying.”

Daryl huffed a laugh, watching her with something warm and fond in his eyes.

Beth adjusted the keyboard on her lap, poised her fingers over the keys, and then, slowly, plucked out a shaky, off-tempo version of Sweet Home Alabama . The tones were tinny and synthetic, but she made it work. It was clumsy, loud and imperfect. “You remember this?” she asked softly, not looking up.

He nodded. “Heard you hummin’ it back on the road. That night we found the car with the busted stereo.”

Beth kept playing. “You hated that song.”

“Still do.”

She smiled anyway and started to sing. Her voice was low and a little unsure, accompanying herself on the clackity plastic keys, but it was sweet. The melody drifted out into the air, filling the space around them. When she reached the chorus, she turned her head and grinned at him. “Sing with me.”

His expression twisted like she’d asked him to jump in a septic tank. “Hell no.”

Beth smiled and hit a button shaped like a dog. A high-pitched bark yelped out in response. “C’mon,” she teased. “I’ve got backup vocals.”

“Ain’t doin’ it.”

“Chicken.”

He narrowed his eyes. “That don’t work on me.”

“You scared?”

“I got standards.”

Beth played an exaggerated, off-key honky-tonk run. “Well, clearly I don’t. I’m serenading you on a keyboard made for a six-year-old.”

“That’s what makes it worse,” he muttered. “Ain’t no one should have to listen to that and my voice.”

She leaned in, and played an exaggerated twang. “Guess you just can’t carry a tune—”

“I can—” he bit back, then narrowed his eyes. “You trickin’ me.”

“Guilty.” She grinned. “Now sing.”

He exhaled slowly through his nose, muttering something under his breath that sounded like a curse. Then he leaned closer, eyes narrowed. “You don’t tell nobody.”

“Cross my heart.”

Beth grinned like a cat who just caught a fat canary, she started the song again, her fingers dancing over the tiny keys like she was playing a grand piano and not something meant for a toddler’s birthday party.

Daryl muttered the first verse under his breath, off-key, low, and painfully self-conscious. She picked up the second, their voices clashing wonderfully over the keyboard’s chirpy backing track.

It was wonderfully awful.

Halfway through the chorus, Beth cracked, bursting into laughter so hard she nearly dropped the keyboard. The machine responded by blasting a demo jingle that sounded like a mariachi band on acid.

“What?!” Daryl looked scandalized. “I don’t ya I couldn’t sing!”


“No, no,” she wheezed, wiping her eyes. “You can’t, but that’s not why I’m laughing.” 

“Then why the hell you laughin!?” 

She sobered, just a little, eyes shining as she looked him dead in the eye. “Because I think I just fell a little more in love with you.”

The words slipped out, gentle, natural and honest, but once they were out there, the silence that followed was electric. It was the first time the word had been spoken between the two of them.

Daryl didn’t move or speak. His expression barely changed, but something shifted behind his eyes. He leaned in, hand cupping her jaw and thumb brushing her cheek as their lips met. The kiss was rough around the edges, like him, but warm and full of something aching. Beth’s fingers went slack, one hand on the back of his neck. The keyboard slid into her lap with a cartoonish “WOWZA!” before going silent.

“Ah, apologies.”

They broke apart so fast the porch boards squeaked and the keyboard slipped off to the side.

Eugene stood at the base of the steps, holding a clipboard and blinking like he’d walked into a crime scene. “I was in pursuit of Rick for a time-sensitive debrief when I encountered this musical…offense.” His gaze fell to the glitter-covered keyboard now lying between them, where a button had apparently been pressed during their scramble.

“DISCO MODE ACTIVATED!” it chirped, then launched into an obnoxious, peppy tune that made even Beth wince.

Eugene pointed, mouth twitching in distress. “That…that is not an instrument. That is a weaponized Fisher Price product designed for auditory torture.”

Beth bit down a laugh, one hand clamped over her mouth.

Daryl, however, had had enough. “Leave.”

Eugene blinked. “I merely—”

“Now.”

Eugene took one last bewildered look at the keyboard, then at Daryl, whose expression promised a shovel and no witnesses, and promptly spun on his heel. “I shall…make myself scarce.”

Beth snorted into her hand. “You didn’t have to scare him.”

“Didn’t, I just talked.” Daryl picked up the keyboard and set it gently on her lap again. “Play somethin’ else,” he said softly.

Beth tilted her head. “Only if you sing with me.”

“Girl,” he sighed, but a hint of a smile tugged at his lips, “you tryin’ to kill me?”

“Nope.” Her fingers hit the keys gently, this time with tenderness. “Just tryin’ to keep you close.”

He gave a quiet huff of a laugh, and stayed right there on the porch beside her as the stars came out

The keyboard chirped: “Let’s make more music!”

Neither of them objected, and the sound of mismatched notes echoed softly through the night air.

 

 

Chapter 39

It was quiet in the clinic that afternoon, eerily so. 

Beth had just finished wiping down the exam table when the door creaked open and the smallest Anderson stepped cautiously inside. “Hey there, Sam,” she said gently, drying her hands on a towel. “What happened?”

He hesitated just inside the doorway, eyes flicking to the floor. “Fell,” he said, lifting his pant leg to show a raw, muddy scrape across his knee.

Beth’s expression softened. “Come sit, honey. Let me take a look.” He climbed onto the table with quiet obedience, wincing as she gently dabbed at the wound with antiseptic. She kept her voice soft, steady. “This from running around out back again?”

Sam hesitated, then gave the smallest nod. “There’s a tree. Real low branch. I wanted to see if I could get up on it.”

Beth paused, blinking. “Even though your dad told you not to?”

Sam bit his lip and gave a tiny shrug. “Yeah.”

Beth didn’t scold him. She only offered a small smile, understanding more than she let on. “You’re lucky it’s just a scrape.”

The door to the backroom opened and Pete’s footsteps followed. “Sam,” he said, his voice flat and too loud in the quiet room.

Beth instinctively moved just a little, still crouched in front of the boy. She didn't miss the way that Sam stiffened again.

“I told you not to be out there climbing trees,” Pete continued, arms crossed now. “What part of that didn’t you hear?”

Beth looked up at Pete briefly, then back at Sam. She kept her tone level. “He’s alright. Just a scrape. Nothing deep.”

Pete’s gaze was sharp now, flicking between her and his son. “But you knew better, didn’t you, Sam?”

Sam didn’t answer, he just stared at his knees.

Beth laid a clean gauze pad against the scrape, trying not to show the tension creeping into her shoulders. “I’ve got it handled.”

Pete didn’t respond right away. He just stared at Sam for a beat too long, until the door opened and a woman walked inside with her arm wrapped in a dishtowel, and Beth felt her shoulders slump in relief as Pete’s attention was drawn away.

“Sorry—I think I need stitches,” the woman said, flustered. “I was chopping some vegetables and the knife slipped.”

Pete turned away from them. “Let’s take a look,” he said, stepping over. “Beth, finish dressing the scrape.”

“You’re okay,” Beth said softly as she smoothed the bandage over his skin. “You were brave coming in, you did good.”

Sam gave her the faintest smile. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

When she glanced toward Pete again, his voice was calm and measured as he addressed the woman with the cut. The shift was seamless, like flipping a light switch. Beth didn’t say anything, she just gathered the wrappers from the gauze and tossed them in the bin. Her hands moved on autopilot, but her mind lingered on that flash of heat in Pete’s voice, the way Sam had gone silent under it.  There was something there, she could feel it.
 

And she didn’t like it.

The air in the infirmary didn’t relax until Pete moved into the next room, rummaging through a cabinet with more noise than necessary. His muttering could just barely be heard through the half-open door, and Beth kept an ear out to track his movements.

The front door creaked open again, and Beth looked up to see Deanna step in, trailed by a woman with glasses and nervous energy radiating from every step. “Beth,” Deanna greeted warmly, then turned slightly to the woman behind her. “This is Denise Cloyd. She’s going to be shadowing you and Dr. Anderson. She has some training, was studying to become a surgeon before she shifted to psychology.”

Denise offered a small, sheepish smile and lifted a hand in a half-wave. “It’s…been a while, but I’m a quick learner.”

Beth immediately stepped forward and returned the smile with genuine warmth. “We’re real glad to have you,” she said, voice soft and sincere. “We could use another set of hands.”

Denise relaxed just a fraction at that.

“Let her get settled in,” Deanna added. “We’ll talk more once she’s had a chance to find her footing.”

Beth nodded. “Absolutely.”

As Deanna stepped out, Pete emerged from the back, wiping his hands on a rag. He took one look at Denise and nodded, curt and disinterested.

“More people pokin’ around in here?” he muttered under his breath, not quite loud enough to be overtly rude, but enough for Beth to catch.

Beth’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of coolness in her eyes as she glanced at him. “She’s here to help,” Beth said gently, guiding Denise toward one of the shelves. “Why don’t we start with inventory? Helps to know where everything is.”

Denise gave a nervous laugh. “That I can do.”

As Beth walked her through the layout of the infirmary, where the IV supplies were kept, and what medications were being rationed. All the while Pete busied himself at the back again, not offering so much as a glance in their direction.

The sun had dipped low by the time they were done for the day, casting long shadows across the clinic walls. Most of Alexandria was settling into its evening rhythm—porch lights flicking on, murmured conversations drifting through open windows, the scent of something cooking down the street.

Inside the infirmary, Beth moved quietly, wiping down one of the counters while Denise finished restocking a cabinet. Pete had left a while ago with little more than a short goodbye. The space felt easier to breathe in now. “You did good today,” Beth said gently, her voice cutting through the soft clink of pill bottles. “Real good, actually.”

Denise closed the cabinet, adjusting her glasses with a half-smile. “I kept second-guessing myself.”

Beth shrugged, her expression kind. “That’s normal. I did too. Still do, sometimes.”

Denise leaned back against the counter, arms folding loosely. “You seem like you’ve been doing this forever.”

Beth let out a soft laugh. “Guess we all had to learn fast. But you held your own, even with Pete actin’ like you weren’t there.”

Denise’s mouth twitched. “Yeah. I wasn’t sure if that was just me.”

“No,” Beth said, more serious now. “It wasn’t. But don’t let it rattle you. You’re not goin’ anywhere, and I’m glad.”

Denise’s eyes softened, gratitude flickering across her features. “Thanks, Beth. That… means a lot.”

Beth nodded, brushing her hair back with a tired but sincere smile. “You need anything, you come find me, alright?”

“I will,” Denise said, her voice quieter now. “Thanks.”

Beth gave her arm a gentle squeeze before stepping outside into the cooling air. The sky had deepened into shades of lavender and rose, the breeze whispering against her skin.

Maggie was waiting just beyond the porch, arms crossed casually, an amused smirk playing on her lips. “There you are.”

Beth blinked and smiled. “Hey.”

“Didn’t see you come home last night.”

Beth shot her a look, equal parts innocent and knowing. “Lost track of time.”

Maggie let out a short laugh and nudged her shoulder as they started walking. “Sure you did.”

Beth didn’t reply, she just let herself smile as they fell into step with each other.

Chapter 40

It was late afternoon when Glenn found him, crouched beside the porch of the house he’d quietly claimed, sleeves rolled up and dirt streaking his forearm as he adjusted one of the loose steps. He hadn’t heard Glenn approach, but Daryl’s shoulders didn’t tense like they used to. He knew who it was without turning.

 

“You know,” Glenn said casually, leaning against one of the porch posts, “I’ve seen you come out here three times this week.”

 

Daryl didn’t respond. He gave the wooden slat under his hand a small test shove, grunted at the creak, then grabbed his hammer.

 

Glenn didn’t take the silence personally. “Is there something I should know? You setting up a side project? Building a hidey hole?”

 

Daryl snorted under his breath but didn’t look up. “Just fixin’ what needs fixin’.”

 

“That’s not an answer,” Glenn said, grinning.

 

“It’s the only one I got.”

 

Glenn crossed his arms, tilting his head. “Beth know about this place?”

 

The hammer paused. Daryl shifted his grip, eyes still on the step. “Ain’t nothin’ to know.”

 

Glenn raised an eyebrow, but his voice was gentler now. “You okay? You’ve been…different. Not bad, just...something’s up.”

 

Daryl finally looked up at him. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong.”

 

“I didn’t say something’s wrong,” Glenn replied. “I said something’s up.”

 

Daryl didn’t say anything further to that.

 

“You’d tell me, right?” Glenn asked, quieter now. “If something was wrong with Beth. Or you. Or—”

 

“There ain’t,” Daryl cut in, just sharp enough to make Glenn take a step back, not out of fear, but out of respect. Daryl stood, brushing his hands on his jeans, then turned toward the door. “Some things just ain’t yours to know yet.

 

Glenn held his gaze for a second. Then he nodded, accepting the line. “For the record,” he added, “I’m glad you’re thinkin’ about something long-term. Even if you suck at pretending you’re not.”

 

Daryl rolled his eyes but didn’t fight it. He stepped past Glenn with a muttered, “Busybody.”

 

Glenn smirked. “Love you too, man.”

 

From inside the house, Daryl shut the door with a quiet thud.

___________________________________

 

The evening air was crisp when Eugene knocked, three short raps on the door to the house Beth currently shared with Maggie and Glenn. He stood stiffly on the porch, clutching a tin of crackers under one arm and a well-worn notebook under the other. When Beth opened the door, her face lit up with a soft, surprised smile. “Eugene,” she said, stepping aside. “You didn’t have to come all this way.”

 

“I have undertaken this journey voluntarily,” he said, shuffling inside. “After recent events of an emotionally significant nature, I deemed it prudent to initiate a follow-up. Not unlike a wellness check. I have seen it done in sitcoms.”

 

Beth let out a quiet laugh and gestured for him to sit at the kitchen table. “Well, I’m glad you did.”

 

“I, uh...” He paused, awkwardly pulling out the chair and settling with care, “was under the impression that...a certain reveal had taken place.”

 

Beth nodded. She moved slower than usual as she fetched two cups, a lingering tiredness in her limbs she hadn’t quite shaken yet. “Yeah,” she said as she poured water into the glasses. “I told him.”

 

Eugene looked up sharply, his brows practically climbing off his face. “You...told Daryl.”

 

“I did.” Her smile grew warmer, more private. “A few nights ago.”

 

Eugene blinked. “And his reaction was..?”

 

Beth sat across from him, holding the glass between her hands. “Good. Quiet. He’s still wrapping his head around it, I think, but…he didn’t run. He didn’t pull away. He held me.” Her voice grew softer. “And he said he’d be here, for the both of us.”

 

Eugene exhaled like he’d been holding his breath through an entire math exam. “That is...most excellent news.”

 

Beth smiled, eyes misting faintly. “Yeah. It is.”

 

He hesitated, fingers twitching over the spine of his notebook. “If I may, I’d like to reiterate that you possess a commendable degree of intestinal fortitude. As does he. Not everyone finds themselves in this situation with someone who immediately steps up to the plate.”

 

Beth looked at him fondly. “I’ve had a lot of help getting brave, I couldn’t have done it without you, you know.”

 

Eugene turned red instantly. “Well, yes. I endeavor to be both useful and emotionally supportive. It’s a tricky balance.”

 

Beth reached over and placed a hand on his. “And you’re doing great.”

 

They sat there for a moment in silence, comfort thick between them. Then Eugene cleared his throat and shifted gears. “I have also compiled a secondary, more extensive list of dietary considerations—updated to account for the second trimester as it approaches. The list includes, but is not limited to, increased folate, vitamin D, iron, and omega-3s. I would also advise against heavy lifting, prolonged stress, and certain aged cheeses.” 

 

Beth giggled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

“I also found a recipe for a nutrient-rich mocktail that allegedly tastes similar to strawberry soda but contains no high fructose corn syrup. I have not personally tested it, but the Amazon reviews, pre-apocalypse, were promising.”

 

“I’ll add it to the list,”

 

Eugene stood, then hesitated again. “If you ever find yourself in need of a late-night companion for walks, snack runs, or unburdening of the soul...I possess both endurance and ears.”

 

Beth rose and wrapped him in a hug before he could react.

 

He stiffened, but then patted her back once, very carefully, like she was the last fabergé egg on Earth.

 

“You’re gonna be a good uncle, Eugene.”

 

His throat bobbed. “That is...the highest honor I have yet been granted.”

___________________________________

 

Beth had always been good at noticing things.

 

Small things. Quiet things.

 

Like how Daryl’s boots were dirtier than usual lately, like he’d been tromping around more than usual. Or how he’d come back with a scrape on his forearm and a smear of paint he hadn’t noticed. How he’d been leaving earlier, coming back later, his hands rougher, and his eyes more thoughtful.

 

She didn’t press at first. But tonight, with Rick and Michonne out, Carl and Judith asleep, and the moon soft through the curtains, she found herself curled up beside him on the couch, her belly warm under her hand and curiosity getting the better of her. "You’ve been sneakin’ off somewhere," she said lightly, eyes narrowing with a teasing smile. "You workin’ on something?”

 

Daryl didn’t look up right away. He was carving something, whittling a sliver of wood down to a smooth curve, and the firelight threw gold over his shoulders. “Maybe,” he said gruffly.

 

Beth sat up straighter, intrigued. “Is it for Rick? Or Aaron? Or…”

 

His silence made her tilt her head.

 

"Daryl," she drawled, the grin tugging at her lips now. "Are you makin’ me somethin’? Or is this another one of your broody secrets?” He shifted beside her, clearly debating whether to answer or evade. She nudged him gently with her knee. “C’mon. I can tell you’re up to somethin’. Every time I ask where you’ve been, you act like I caught you with your hand in the cookie jar.”

 

He finally looked at her then, his gaze steady and unreadable. That look that used to scare her a little, before she knew what sat beneath it. “Beth.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Don’t.”

 

Beth blinked. “Don’t what?”

 

Instead of answering, he leaned forward and kissed her.

 

Hard.

 

It wasn’t their usual sweet kind of kiss, not the tentative kind they'd fumbled through in the dark days back on the road, not the shy, reverent ones they shared when her belly first started to swell. This one was full of need, of longing, of something desperate and tangled and tender all at once.

 

Beth made a soft sound against his mouth, startled, but then her hands came up to cup his face, her body leaning into his instinctively. His palm found her back, grounding her, holding her like she was the only thing tethering him to the world. When they broke apart, breathless, she searched his eyes. “You kissin’ me to shut me up?” she whispered.

 

He nodded faintly. “Might do it again if you don’t stop nosin’.”

 

Her laugh was breathless. “That so?”

 

“Yeah.” His forehead pressed to hers. “Ain’t ready to show you yet.”

 

Beth softened, her hands smoothing over his shoulders. “Okay,” she said quietly. “I’ll wait.”

 

Daryl exhaled, some tension melting from his frame. He rested his hand over the slight curve of her belly before murmuring, “Ain’t nothin’ fancy.”

 

“Doesn’t have to be,” she whispered. “If it’s from you, it’s already perfect.”

Chapter 41

Notes:

So while writing this I listened to the ‘building a house’ song from Red Dead Redemption 2 on loop, haha - I highly recommend it.

Daryl stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed and staring down a scuffed end table like it had personally insulted him. He’d brought it in himself the day before, lugged it from two streets over. The surface had scratches, but the legs were sturdy. Still, it looked out of place, lonely.

 

A quiet knock on the doorframe broke his focus.

 

“Wasn’t sure if I should let myself in or not,” Aaron called from the front step, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. He had a hand cart with him, something bulky draped under a tarp behind him.

 

Daryl grunted. “Ain’t locked.”

 

Aaron stepped in, eyes scanning the place. “You’ve made progress.”

 

Daryl shrugged, glancing around. “Still ain’t got much.”

 

“Well, let’s fix that, yeah? Eric helped me pull some things together.” Aaron gave the tarp cover a hearty pat before he pulled it off, revealing a patchy but sturdy arm chair.

 

Daryl stared at it. “Don’t need charity.”

 

“It’s not charity,” Aaron said simply. “It’s for her, right? Then it’s for all of us. We want this to work, to show that anyone can build something here.”

 

Daryl didn’t say anything. He stepped forward, grasped one side of the chair, and helped carry it in. Together they slid it into place near the corner window. It looked...normal, like it belonged. “Got anything else stashed?” Daryl asked after a beat, quieter.

 

Aaron smiled faintly. “Couple things. There's a dining table in decent shape, there’s also a small table, and a lamp. Even found a box of mismatched curtains, thought Beth might like going through ’em.”

 

That gave Daryl pause, something softened in his face. “She likes that kinda stuff,” he said quietly.

 

“I figured.”

 

They worked in companionable silence after that, making two short trips to the edge of the neighborhood. By the time the sun dipped low, they had hauled in a low-slung table for the front room, a second-hand dresser, a small bookcase and a few kitchen chairs that didn’t quite match, but Daryl didn’t care.

 

The upstairs still needed work. The mattress was still on the floor, and one of the windows wouldn’t close all the way but it was coming together. It was starting to feel like something more than shelter, like a life they could step into.

 

“She’s gonna like all this,” Aaron said as they stood in the doorway, taking it in.

 

Daryl didn’t answer, his throat was tight. Instead, he reached for the headboard leaning against the wall. “She deserves more’n this,” he muttered.

 

Aaron’s voice was quiet. “And you’re giving it to her.”

 

That landed harder than Daryl expected. He swallowed it down, jaw tightening, then gave Aaron a nod as the man turned to leave. Once he was alone, Daryl lingered at the door, fingers brushing the frame as if testing it for strength. Tomorrow he’d patch the upstairs window, maybe bring in a rug, something soft for her bare feet in the morning. Briefly, he let his mind wander, Imagining Beth by the window, her laugh echoing through the hall and tiny footsteps one day on the floorboards.

 

Nobody was going to raise their voice in these walls, and nobody was ever going to hide in the corner. 

 

He’d fix it all, one piece at a time. Daryl ran a calloused hand along the wall as he turned to leave.

 

___________________________________

 

The next day, the sun hadn’t even climbed halfway when Daryl heard the footsteps. He was crouched over the front porch, trying to figure out why the screen door was catching wrong, when a very familiar voice cut through the still morning air.

 

“An inspection of domestic progress is often best conducted in person.”

 

Daryl stiffened and turned his head slowly.

 

Eugene stood there at the foot of the porch steps, clipboard in hand, wearing what could only be described as his “formal work attire”, a button-up shirt tucked into cargo pants, held up by a belt two notches too tight.

 

“…What the hell’re you doin’ here?” Daryl asked, straightening.

 

Eugene adjusted his glasses, then made his way up the steps, utterly unfazed. “Well, I took it upon myself to conduct a discrete visual survey of this address after observing your consistent presence here over the last several days. Coupled with your inquiries into structural repair materials, insulation preferences, and rudimentary furnishings, I logically deduced the nature of your endeavor.”

 

Daryl just stared at him. “…You been watchin’ me?”

 

“Observin’. There’s a difference.”

 

Daryl opened his mouth, closed it, then ran a hand down his face. “Let me guess. You know.”

 

“I am, as the expression goes, in the loop.” Eugene tapped his temple. “And might I add, given my current understanding of the emotional dynamics between yourself and Miss Greene, this endeavor is both timely and commendable. Therefore, I come bearing tools and labor.”

 

“Jesus.” Daryl turned back toward the porch, muttering under his breath. “Everyone’s gonna know before we even tell ‘em.”

 

“I do,” Eugene confirmed, nodding. “But please allow me to clarify, I was not informed by means of gossip, deduction, or overheard conjecture. Beth told me herself, in confidence.”

 

Daryl blinked, surprise flashing briefly across his face.

 

“I did not ask. I merely happened upon her in a moment of notable distress,” Eugene continued. “She required assistance acquiring a specific item from the supply closet that was…let’s say, time-sensitive. I gathered what she needed, then offered my silence in exchange for nothing. I can be trusted to maintain confidentiality moving forward, I gave her my word which I consider to be binding at the highest level.”

 

For a beat, Daryl didn’t speak. Just stared out toward the wall. “…Alright,” he muttered eventually. “Appreciate you not sayin’ nothin’.”

 

“I’d sooner perish,” Eugene replied, sincere in a way that cut through even his usual cadence. “She trusted me. I’ll honor that.”

 

Daryl gave a tight nod. A weight in his chest shifted, lessened. He then scowled down at the porch railing he was trying to sand smooth and muttered, “Ain’t good with the door.”

 

“Then I suggest we begin there.”

 

Despite his verbose commentary, Eugene proved to be shockingly competent. He tightened loose hinges with uncanny precision, diagnosed the warped screen frame in seconds, and even adjusted the wonky upstairs window using a tool he claimed was “customized for low-leverage leverage.”

 

Daryl found himself…quietly impressed.

 

They worked in mostly silence, with Eugene chattering occasionally about airflow and screw threads and structural integrity, and Daryl nodding or grunting or sighing when appropriate. By midday, the porch door opened and closed like new, and two windows sealed were tight

 

“Not bad,” Daryl admitted begrudgingly as they stood in the kitchen.

 

Eugene smiled, surprisingly modest. “I consider this a practical application of my skills. Plus, if I may be so bold, it brings me joy to contribute to the foundation of what may very well be a most wholesome family unit.”

 

Daryl blinked at him.

 

Eugene shifted. “That is to say, congrats, man.”

 

Daryl blinked at Eugene, clearing his throat as he scratched the back of his neck. “…Thanks.”

 

Eugene looked like he might tear up from the sheer weight of the moment but wisely turned it into a sniffle. “I’ll be back tomorrow with makeshift sealant for the upstairs trim,” he said, already walking toward the door.

 

“Wait, you don’t gotta—”

 

“I do,” Eugene called back without turning. “I want to.”

 

Daryl stood in the quiet of the nearly finished house, gaze drifting around the space Eugene had helped tighten up. It was looking more like a home now. He wasn’t used to accepting help, he didn’t usually trust it when it came easy.

 

But today?

 

He was glad he had.

Chapter 42

Notes:

Time for the big house reveal!

By the end of the week, it was finished. Not entirely, but mostly, just enough.

Daryl stood in the middle of the living room, rough hands tucked into his pockets, surveying everything with a quiet intensity. It wasn’t much by old-world standards. The walls still bore faint signs of their patchwork repairs, small scuffs, mismatched paint in one corner, but it stood solid. The couch, sturdy if a little ugly, was the best they’d found. Aaron had helped him drag it in two days ago and they’d patched a small tear in the upholstery with duct tape and some fabric Beth had once used to line her pack. The table didn’t rock, and the chair beside it didn’t squeal against the floorboards.

The lights, thanks to Eugene’s intricate rewiring, worked with a single flick. Hell, even the water ran clean from the kitchen tap.

It looked like a place someone could come home to.

He made his way slowly toward the stairs, hand trailing along the smooth banister. They’d sanded it down together, he and Aaron, on a day where neither of them talked much at first. That is, until Aaron had made a comment that’d stuck in Daryl’s head ever since. It had started as they finished loading in a bookshelf and were taking a breather, arms draped over their knees on the porch steps. Aaron had been sipping from a water bottle when he suddenly said, tone casual but fond: “You know, back when I first met you all in that barn, I thought Judith was yours.”

Daryl blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?”

Aaron smiled faintly, a little embarrassed. “I know, I know. I figured it out once we got talking. Just—first impression, the way Beth was holding her, the way you stood in front of them both like you’d take on a damn horde with your bare hands.” He tilted his head. “Didn’t know anything about you yet, but it was obvious you’d have gutted me if I blinked wrong at them.”

At the time, Daryl hadn’t known what to say. But now, standing here in this house, their house, he found that memory surfacing again, and unexpectedly, it warmed him. Not just for the implication, but because someone else had looked at him back then, grimy and half-feral, and saw someone who could have been a husband, a father. He climbed the stairs, boots slow on each creak of wood. He wandered from room to room in silence. The bedroom upstairs had a bed frame now, just a basic one they’d salvaged, but it lifted the mattress off the floor and made it feel like more than a place to crash. He’d even found a small dresser with drawers that didn’t stick, and had quietly begun moving some of Beth’s spare clothes into it. A little premature maybe, but it felt right.

The only room untouched was the one across the hall, the smallest one. He leaned on the door frame now, staring in. The room was empty and quiet. The walls were bare, the floor still needed sweeping, but the light came in just right in the mornings, and sometimes, when he stood there too long, he caught himself picturing it. Sunlight filtering through soft fabric, Beth curled in a chair near the window, rocking slowly with a little bundle cradled in her arms, humming something old and sweet. 

They hadn’t talked much about the details yet, hadn’t gone further than the stunned breath between them the night she’d handed him the test. But every time he looked at her lately, it hit him again. She was going to be a mom, and somehow, he was going to be a dad. Daryl didn’t feel ready, not really. But the house helped, it gave shape to something he hadn’t been able to name before. It wasn’t just a place to sleep, but a place to stay, to grow. A place for her, for the baby, for them.

The stairs creaked again under his weight as he came back down, and on his way he thought about Eugene helping him finish the plumbing last night, rambling on about water pressure and pipe angles like it was rocket science. Daryl hadn’t understood half of it, but he appreciated the effort. The guy was weird as hell, but he meant well, and dammit, he was good with tools. Daryl stepped toward the front door, pausing and giving one last look around, taking in the final quiet moment before it all changed. The place wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t even close, but it was theirs. He exhaled through his nose, shoulders loosening just a little as his hand settled on the knob.

It was time.

______________________________________________________________

Beth stepped out into the early evening light, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she closed the infirmary door behind her. The sun was beginning to dip low, stretching golden light across the pavement. Her feet ached and her back was sore, but it was the good kind of tired—the kind that came from being useful, from being part of something. She didn’t expect to see Daryl waiting across the street, arms folded and leaning against a lamppost like he wasn’t really waiting at all.

But she knew better.

Her lips curved. “Hey,” she called, crossing toward him, her boots scuffing lightly over the sidewalk.

Daryl looked up at the sound of her voice. His usual scowl wasn’t there, not really. Instead, something softer tugged at the corners of his mouth. Nervous energy buzzed beneath his posture, though he tried to hide it with a shrug and a glance toward the horizon. “Hey,” he said, then rubbed the back of his neck. “You, uh…done for the day?”

She nodded. “Just finished. Why? What’s goin’ on?”

He shifted his weight. “Ain’t nothin’. Just…was wonderin’ if you had a minute.”

Beth tilted her head, smiling at the awkward way he avoided her eyes. “I always got a minute for you.”

That earned her the smallest grin. “Come on,” he said, nudging his head toward the road. “Wanna show you somethin’.”

She fell into step beside him easily, brushing her arm against his now and then. They didn’t talk for a bit, they just walked in the comfortable silence that came from knowing each other so well. A few people passed them by, but Daryl barely seemed to notice. His hand twitched once like he might take hers, but didn’t, not yet. As they neared the quieter edge of Alexandria, Beth squinted ahead. “Where we goin’?”

“You’ll see.”

“Daryl Dixon,” she said with mock suspicion, “if you’re about to lead me into the woods to hide a body, I’m gonna be real disappointed in you.”

He smirked, shaking his head. “Nah.”

“You sure? Cause I know Spencer’s been gettin’ on your nerves lately.”

“Ain’t like that.”

“Then what’s it like?”

They were just a turn away now. Daryl stopped and turned to her, gaze serious but soft. “…Close your eyes.”

Beth blinked. “What?”

"Just do it."

"You serious right now?"

“Dead serious.” He crossed his arms. “Ain’t gonna let you peek neither. Don’t think I won’t toss my vest over your head.”

Beth sighed, exaggerated and playful, but held her hands over her eyes. "Fine. But if I trip, I’m takin’ you down with me.”

He reached for her hand gently, fingers curling around hers as he led her forward. “Wouldn’t let you fall.”

Beth bit her lip at the quiet way he said it. Her steps were guided by the warmth of his hand and the rough rasp of his thumb brushing over hers. He led her carefully, his other hand hovering near her back like he was ready to catch her with the smallest stumble. Every few steps, he murmured “Watch it” or “Step up,” guiding her around stones, a crack in the walkway, a patch of uneven dirt.

Then he stopped. “Okay,” Daryl said finally, letting out a quiet breath, his hand squeezing hers. “You can open ‘em now.”

Beth blinked as sunlight spilled back into her vision, the world bright and warm as her eyes adjusted. Her gaze lifted and the breath caught in her throat.

The house.

Not just any house.

Their house. The one they used to sneak off to when things were too loud, too crowded, too much. The one with the peeling shutters and a broken screen door, except it wasn’t broken anymore. The shutters were painted, the door hung straight, and the porch had been swept clean. There was even a little porch swing, simple and weathered, but placed with quiet purpose. The whole thing looked lived in, loved.

Beth pressed her hand to her mouth, jaw trembling.

Daryl shifted beside her, his shoulders tense. He didn’t look at her, he couldn’t yet. “I, uh…” he cleared his throat, boots scraping the ground as he stepped half in front of her, “Figured it was time we had somewhere that was ours for real. Not just a place to…y’know, hide.”

Beth still hadn’t said anything, and that only made him more uneasy. He glanced sideways, finally stealing a look. Tears shimmered in her eyes, one sliding down her cheek.

Shit.

“Hey, no—don’t…If it’s too much, I can—hell, I can take it back, or find another place, or—”

Beth turned, stopping his nervous ramble with both hands on his face, fingertips gentle on his stubble. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No, Daryl. It’s perfect.” He stared at her, brow furrowed like he didn’t know how to believe that. She leaned in, pressing her forehead against his. “You did all this?” she breathed, still stunned.

Daryl shrugged a little, voice quieter now. “Had some help from Aaron and Eugene…” He hesitated. “Kept it quiet though, wanted you to see it first.”

Beth blinked up at him, heart full to the brim. “You did all this for me?”

Daryl looked down, embarrassed. “Nah, did it for us.”

She laughed softly through her tears, arms winding around his neck, holding him close like she might never let go. “I can’t believe you…”

He held her, cheek brushing her temple, his own throat tight now. “Figured you’d like it.”

“I love it.”

They stood there for a long moment, wrapped in each other and the weight of what they’d built, not just the house, but the quiet promise of a future stitched into every nail and beam.

Beth pulled back just enough to look at him again, her voice thick with emotion. “You didn’t have to fix it up.”

“Yeah, I did,” Daryl said simply. “Ain’t lettin’ you sleep on no damn mattress on the floor.”

Beth laughed again, wiping her eyes. “Guess you’re stuck with me now.”

He kissed her softly, right there on the front walk. “Already was.”

______________________________________________________________

 

The house creaked softly as it settled for the night, the sound of crickets rising outside in a steady hum. Candlelight flickered across the bedroom walls—Beth had pulled a chair near the window to sort through the old curtain options Aaron had dropped off. Most were dusty florals or faded plaid, but she'd found a sheer ivory set she liked.

Daryl sat on the edge of the bed, watching her. His eyes lingered on her face, before they briefly drifted to the soft curve of her belly that was just barely visible beneath her loose shirt. She looked like she belonged here, like this space was already hers.

When she glanced up and caught him looking, her face softened into a small smile. “You’re staring.”

“Yeah. I am,” he muttered, unapologetic.

Beth let out a quiet laugh and set the curtain sample aside. She rose and crossed the room, curling up beside him on the bed, knees tucked beneath her, and her arm draped lightly over his. “Feels good bein’ here, with you.”

He grunted softly, nudging her temple with his jaw. “Ain’t much.”

“It’s all I need,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. Then, Beth added quietly, “We’re gonna have to tell people soon.”

Daryl tensed just a little. “Yeah.”

Beth toyed with a loose thread on the blanket between them, the movement light, and nervous. “I don’t mind people knowin’. I’m not ashamed, I just…” She exhaled. “Maggie.”

He shifted to face her, one leg folding under the other. “She don’t get to be mad at you for bein’ happy.”

“I know. But she’s my sister, and she’s already been through so much. I think she still sees me as a kid sometimes.” Her voice grew small. “I don’t want her to think I’m being reckless, or that I messed up. I just—I want her to understand.”

Daryl let out a quiet scoff and shook his head, not unkind, but firm. “She can think what she wants. Ain’t changin’ a damn thing.”

Beth blinked. “You don’t care what she says?”

“I don’t give a damn what she thinks,” Daryl said flatly, and reached for her hand, gently stilling her fidgeting fingers with his. “Ain’t her business what happens between you n’me. Ain’t her place to judge nothin’ and if she don’t like it? That’s her problem.”

“But if she gets upset—”

“Then she gets upset,” he cut in, with a shrug like it meant less than dirt. “Let her. Let her stomp around and look at me like I’m the goddamn devil. She wants to yell? Let her yell. She wants to throw somethin’? Hell, I’ve been dodgin’ flyin’ shit since I was six.” His thumb stroked slow circles over the back of her hand. “She gets pissed, I’ll take it, all of it.”

Beth squinted at him, her lips tugging up. “You’d really take Maggie’s wrath for me? That’s brave.”

He looked at her, eyes glinting with something dry and stubborn. “Hell yeah. I’ve taken worse. You think Maggie givin’ me the stink-eye’s gonna spook me? Shit, I used to sleep ten feet from Merle. Nothin’ scares me anymore. And if it comes to her throwin’ punches, well, she better hope she aims better than my brother did.”

Beth laughed, the sound bubbling out of her as she leaned in and pressed a long kiss to his jaw. “You’re gonna be such a good dad.”

His breath caught at that, just a little. He looked down at her, then at the slight swell beneath her shirt. “Hope so.”

“You will,” she said, her voice warm and words full with a conviction that steadied him. He swallowed hard. She was so close now, her hand smoothing along his arm, fingers slipping beneath his sleeve like she couldn’t get close enough. Daryl cupped her face, thumb brushing her cheek, and he kissed her, soft at first, then again, slower and hungrier, Beth sighed into his mouth, her hands threading into his hair as she leaned into him, her body curling close. Everything outside the walls faded. All that mattered was their warmth, breath, and the quiet future growing between them. When they finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, she rested her forehead against his, eyes still closed. “We’ll tell her. I just needed to know you’d be there.”

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Daryl murmured, arms wrapped tight around her. “Ain’t ever gonna leave you to do this alone.”

She smiled, brushing her nose against his. “Good. ‘Cause I kinda like having you around.”

His mouth curved just barely. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm,” she murmured, and he kissed her again, slower, and deeper, until the only thing left was them, wrapped in each other and the soft hush of the coming night.

Chapter 43

Notes:

Admittedly writing Maggie's conflict in this has probably been the greatest challenge I've come to face thus far, haha.

I do not have older sisters, only older brothers so I hope I'm hitting the 'overprotective sister' mark right!

Maggie was on her knees, dirt smeared on her gloves and cheek, working her fingers through the soil as she spaced out a row for tomato seedlings. Beth stood nearby, barefoot in the grass, a tray of sprouted seedlings cradled against her hip. Her blonde hair was twisted up loosely, catching glints of sunlight. She watched her sister move, sleeves rolled and brow creased in focus, strong hands gently tucking life into the soil. 

It was peaceful.

And it would’ve been perfect if her heart wasn’t thudding the way it was. “You got enough room for ‘maters there?” she asked, voice light.

Maggie glanced up, brushing a strand of hair from her face with the back of her arm. “Barely, these beds weren’t built right. Gonna need to fix ‘em up proper before they get too big.”


“You sure you want to plant them here though?” Beth asked softly, kneeling beside her and setting down the tray. “Sun hits kind of strong in the afternoons.”

Maggie hummed in response. “I figure I’ll rig some shade cloth once they get bigger. But yeah, here’s good. Close to the house, and I can watch ’em grow from the porch.”

Beth smiled faintly and began to help, easing a seedling out of its pod and brushing dirt from the roots with care.

“Mm,” Maggie then glanced sideways at her. “You get breakfast?”

“Yeah,” Beth answered. “A little while ago.”

“You sleep okay?”

Beth hesitated. “I did. Didn’t get back till late, though.”

At that, Maggie’s eyes flicked up. “You didn’t come home last night.”

Beth braced for the tone, calm, measured, but lined with gentle scrutiny. The kind a big sister used when she didn’t want to sound overbearing but couldn’t help it. “I lost track of time,” Beth said, keeping her voice light. “It was a nice night, I just walked around for a while.”

Maggie blinked, unconvinced. “With Daryl?”

Beth smiled faintly. “With Daryl.”

Maggie’s lips pressed together, but she said nothing more, turning her attention back to the garden bed. The silence between them thickened as she worked the soil, fingers digging with practiced ease.

A minute passed, and then another.

Beth opened her mouth once, then closed it. The third time, she made herself speak. “Maggie?”

“Hm?”

Beth looked down at the tiny green stem in her hand. “I been thinkin’.”

“About what?”

“Maybe…maybe I oughta move out soon.”

The spade in Maggie’s hand froze mid-dig.

Beth tried to soften it. “Not far, just…one of the empty houses. Daryl fixed one up, I mean—he’s still finishin’ it, but I was thinkin’ it might be time.”

There was a long silence.

Maggie sat back on her heels, lips in a taut line. She wasn’t angry, not exactly, but she felt something cold settle in her chest. “Beth, we’ve only been here two months. You really think now’s the time to start playin’ house?”

Beth’s jaw tightened. “It ain’t about playin’ anything.”

“You’re eighteen.”

“Yeah, and?”

“We’re all still settling in, and now you want to shack up with Daryl like—” Maggie exhaled sharply through her nose. “It just feels like…you’re movin’ awful fast.”

Beth’s shoulders tensed. “It’s not like I just met him.”

“No, I know that,” Maggie said quickly. “I know y’all went through a lot together, but there’s a difference between survivin’ with someone and buildin’ a life with ‘em.”

Beth looked down at her hands. “You don’t think I know that?”

“I just…” Maggie let out a long breath. “You’re still my little sister, Beth. I worry about you.”

“I know you do,” Beth replied softly. “But sometimes you keep talkin’ like I’m still sixteen.”

“I remember when you were sixteen,” Maggie shot back, a little sharper than she meant to. “You were still sneakin’ candy into the barn and leavin’ the gate open ‘cause you forgot.”

Beth’s jaw tightened. “Yeah, and then I watched daddy get his head cut off. I think I grew up a little after that.”

Maggie flinched and Beth swallowed hard, her voice keeping steady. “I ain’t the same girl from the farm or the prison, Maggie. I know this world don’t promise nothin’. But I know what I want, and I know what I’ve found.”

“And you don’t think you’re rushing it?” Maggie asked, finding her voice again. “After everything you’ve been through, you think jumping into something this big with someone like Daryl. is the answer?”

Beth’s eyes narrowed. “Someone like Daryl?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Maggie said quickly, regretting it as soon as the words were out.

“No?” Beth said, rising to her feet as anger crept into her voice. “Then what did you mean?”

Maggie kept her tone careful. “I don’t know him the way you do.”

Beth’s breath hitched, and her chin lifted. “Then maybe get to know him.”

“I know enough,” Maggie said, gently. “He’s—look, I know Daryl's done right by us, but he’s rough, Beth. He’s been through a lot, and where he came from, what he’s been through…that kind of damage doesn’t just disappear because you give it a roof. You think that just goes away?”

Beth stared at her. “You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t seen it? He’s not perfect, Maggie, but he’s tryin’ every day, and he’s good to me.”

“I’m sure he is,” Maggie said, folding her arms. “But that doesn’t mean he knows how to be good for the long haul. You’ve always seen the best in people, God knows you did with that boy at the farm. But Daryl—he’s not just some quiet, broody guy. He grew up fightin’ for scraps and I’m sorry, but I’m cautious about my little sister sharin’ a house, a future, with someone carryin’ all that weight.”

Beth’s eyes welled, furious. “He’s got weight, yeah, but he don’t drop it on me. He listens to me, he makes me feel safe, like I matter.”

“I’m not sayin’ he don’t care,” Maggie replied, her voice rising. “I’m sayin’ you’re rushin’ into this without thinkin’. You’re still young, Beth. You’ve been through hell. You don’t even know if this is what you really want.”

Beth’s voice shook. “You think I don’t know my own heart?”

“I think you want to believe he’s your whole future because you lost so damn much,” Maggie said. “The farm, the prison, Daddy—you’re clingin’ to what’s left. I just think maybe you need to slow down. Make sure you’re not confusing comfort with—”

“With what?” Beth snapped. “Love? You think I don’t know what I’m doin’? That I’m just some dumb little girl followin’ around the first man who looked out for me?”

Maggie sat up straighter, uneasy now. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Beth bit out, eyes glistening. “You’re wrong.”

Maggie folded her arms. “Maybe, but someone’s gotta say it. 'Cause if he breaks your heart, if he fails you, I won’t be the one who didn’t try to stop it.”

Beth stood still, her jaw trembling slightly. “He’s not gonna fail me.”

“You don’t know that,” Maggie pressed. “Men like Daryl? The type of life he’s lived doesn’t always leave room to learn how to love someone right.”

“He does love me,” Beth snapped.

“And what if that ain’t enough?” Maggie replied. “What if he shuts down? What if he pushes you away when things get hard?”

Beth’s voice cracked, fierce and breaking. “He won’t.”

“You don’t know that, You hope he won’t, and I hope he won’t too—but that’s not the same as knowin’.” Maggie began to rise to her feet, slowly, as though Beth were a deer she was trying not to spook. “I love you, Beth, and I’m scared for you. I don’t want to see you fall because he can’t catch you.”

Beth let out a shaky breath, “He’s already caught me.” She turned sharply, blinking fast to keep her tears in check, and walked away. As she rounded the corner of the house, she nearly collided with Glenn. 

“Whoa, hey, Beth—” Glenn started, startled as she brushed past him, eyes shining with unshed tears. “What happened?” Beth didn’t answer. She just kept walking, quickening her pace before the first tear could fall. Glenn turned back toward Maggie. She was frozen in place, staring at nothing, her jaw tight and her brow furrowed. “What happened?” Glenn asked again, confused.

Maggie’s gaze dropped down at the soil and she didn’t answer right away. Her hands were still clenched, gloves dirty, and heart heavier than it had been in a while.

______________________________________________________________

Daryl was tightening the last hinge on the cabinet door when he heard the soft creak of the screen door a familiar voice drifted in.

“Well, look at you,” Carol said, sauntering in with a half-smile. “All domesticated. You even smell like wood polish instead of animal guts and sweat.”

Daryl glanced back at her. “Ain’t domesticated.”

“No? Could’ve fooled me.” She stepped further inside, eyes roaming over the near-finished room. “Nice place. Cozy. Not too many deer skulls though, I’m shocked.”

He shot her a look over his shoulder. “Real funny.”

Carol wandered to the little makeshift dining area, a sturdy wooden table Aaron had helped him lug in earlier in the week, and ran her fingers along the back of one of the chairs. “You built all this up just for you, huh?” she asked casually. “Hope you like your own company.”

Daryl grunted. “Ain’t just for me.”

Carol held her tongue, but just barely. She’d seen the change in him, and had seen her too—Beth, glowing in a way that only meant one thing. But she wasn’t about to ruin the moment by saying it first. “Oh?” she pressed, eyebrows raised in exaggerated innocence.

He shifted his weight and looked away. “Ain’t gotta act like you don’t know.”

“Oh, I know ,” she said with a chuckle, walking over to tap a finger lightly on the arm of the couch. “Just figured I’d give you a chance to say it yourself. Come on, let me hear it.”

Daryl grunted but then, a beat later, said quietly, “It’s for Beth, for us.”

Carol’s face softened immediately, though her voice stayed light. “Oh, wow. What a surprise ,” she said with a hand over her heart, teasing. “Never would’ve guessed.”

“Yeah, alright,” Daryl muttered.

She walked slowly into the middle of the room, turning in a slow circle. “It’s nice. Rough edges and all. It’s got your...personality.”

He rolled his eyes. “That a compliment?”

Carol grinned. “From me? Yeah.” She then cocked her head. “You done all this yourself?”

Daryl shifted a little, “Aaron helped some, Eugene too.”

Carol arched a brow. “Eugene?”

“Yeah, don’t ask.”

She chuckled and moved to the window, brushing the curtain aside slightly to peer out. “You even got curtains. I mean, I’ve seen you go two weeks without washing your shirt, but now you’re coordinating fabric choices ?”

“Didn’t coordinate nothin’,” he grumbled, but his ears were red.

“She seen it yet?”

He gave a quiet nod.

“And?”

“She liked it.”

Carol’s face warmed into something fond, a half-smile that didn’t tease, and didn’t judge. “Course she did,” she said. “You did good, Dixon.”

Daryl didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to. It was written all over him, quiet, unsure pride tangled up in something deeper and more fragile. 

Hope.

“Well,” Carol said, clapping her hands once and stepping back like she was giving a final inspection, “I approve, not that you asked.”

He gave a low snort, lips twitching. “Didn’t.”

“No, but if you’d brought her to a musty tent with a raccoon nest in the corner, I might’ve had to interfere.”

He smirked despite himself. “Ain’t stupid.”

“Didn’t say you were,” she replied, then added with a wink, “But I’ve seen what you call furniture.”

He grunted. “Aaron helped with that part.”

“Smart man.” Carol turned toward the door, but paused at the threshold. “Oh, almost forgot. Deanna wants to throw a big potluck at the church,” she said casually. “To welcome the new folks you and Aaron brought in. Figured I’d extend the invite, since I know you’re just dying to attend.”

“Pass,” Daryl said without missing a beat.

Carol raised her brows. “Really? You’re gonna let Beth fend off casserole-carrying busybodies on her own? What if they ask her about her favorite baby names?”

He froze. “…What?”

“Nothing,” she said sweetly. “Just seems like the kind of question someone like Olivia might ask, and you know Beth—too polite to run.”

Daryl glared at her.

“Think about it,” Carol added, turning to go. “Besides, you clean up nice, when you try.”

He huffed, rolling his eyes.

At the door, she paused one last time, glancing back at him with a glimmer of warmth. “You’re doin’ good, pookie.” but she hadn’t even made it down the front steps before another figure came into view—hurried, with blonde hair trailing behind her like sunlight. Carol clocked her immediately. Red eyes, flushed cheeks, the quickness in her steps.

Daryl did too. “Beth—?” his heart kicked up as he moved toward her.

Beth didn’t slow down. She reached him in seconds, crashing into his arms like the tide as her expression crumpled.

He caught her instinctively as she buried her face against his chest, “I gotcha,” he murmured, one hand cradling the back of her head. “I gotcha, alright?” He felt her breath hitch, and the way her fingers curled into his shirt like she didn’t want to let go. Daryl looked over her head toward Carol, who had paused at the door, one brow slightly lifted but her expression unreadable. A flicker of something passed through her face, something quiet, and understanding. She said nothing, didn’t smile, didn’t frown, she just nodded once, turned, and let them have the moment. The sun had dipped low enough that it caught on the windows like soft firelight by the time they separated. Daryl sat on the top step of the porch with his elbows braced on his knees and a cigarette burning down slowly between his fingers. The sound of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts, and he saw Glenn standing at the foot of the porch, his hands shoved in his pockets and his expression somewhere between apologetic and determined.

“Hey,” Glenn said softly. “She here?”

Daryl gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgment. “Inside sleepin’, I think.”

Glenn nodded. “I figured.” He looked down at the ground for a moment, clearing his throat. “Mind if I sit?”

Daryl shrugged, motioning to the step beside him

Glenn approached slowly, scanning the porch before easing himself down onto the step. “Maggie’s been pacing for hours, you don’t have to guess whose name came up a lot.”

That earned a look from Daryl.

Glenn’s tone stayed light, but his expression was anything but. “She’s not mad,” he added. “She’s…worried, and probably hurt.”

Daryl looked away again. “Yeah, well. Beth’s hurt too.”

“I figured.” Glenn’s voice gentled. “She come straight here?”

Daryl gave a slow nod. “Didn’t even knock, just wrapped her arms around me like she was drownin’. Didn’t say much, but…I got the picture.”

“I came home when Beth left crying,” Glenn started. “Maggie didn’t want to talk about it at first but I put two and two together.” 

Daryl didn’t answer, he just stared out at the sidewalk.

“I think Maggie’s scared,” Glenn continued. “She thought she lost Beth once, and now she sees her growing up faster than she’s ready for.”

“She don’t think I’m good enough for her,” Daryl muttered.

Glenn looked over, then gave a soft, tired smile. “That’s not it. Or at least, it’s not all of it.”

Daryl didn’t move.

“I think she sees something she can’t control, something she didn’t plan. And Beth choosing you, this house, this life, it reminds her that she’s not in charge of her sister’s safety anymore, and maybe she hasn’t been for a while now.”

“She don’t trust me.”

“She’s afraid,” Glenn repeated. “But I trust you.”

Daryl glanced at him. That, he hadn’t expected.

“I’ve seen the way you look at her,” Glenn went on. “Hell, I’ve seen the way she looks at you. She used to be scared all the time, worried. But now? She’s not, not with you.”

Daryl dropped his gaze again, jaw tight.

“I remember when you barely looked anyone in the eye,” Glenn said with a small, almost amused exhale. “Now you’ve built a house.”

Daryl huffed a breath through his nose. “Didn’t do it right away.”

“But you did it,” Glenn said simply. “That’s what counts.” They sat in silence for a beat. Wind moved through the trees above the porch, catching a chime somewhere down the block. The sound was delicate and strange in the stillness. “I know what it’s like,” Glenn started again, looking down at his hands briefly. “To find something that still feels good in all this mess. You don’t let that go, you hold on to it with both hands.” 

Daryl glanced sideways again, slower this time.

“I just wanted you to know,” Glenn said, standing. “I’m on her side. And that means I’m on yours, too.”

Daryl nodded, the words sticking in his throat, as though they were too thick to say.

As Glenn started down the steps, he paused at the bottom and added over his shoulder, “You’re not the man people expected you to be, Daryl. You’re better. Don’t let anyone, not even Maggie, make you forget that.”

Daryl stayed there long after Glenn left, long after the sun dipped behind the trees. His hand eventually rose to rub at his jaw, and when he finally got up, he glanced back toward the door where Beth was still sleeping inside.

Whatever came next, he’d be ready.

For her.

Chapter 44

Notes:

This week has been a little tiring between working, getting over a sinus infection and some family drama.

But hey, this week's release fits the vibe just right because we've got a steamy heap of drama coming right up!

It had been a quiet move. There was no announcement, no grand declaration, just Beth, one backpack at a time, carrying her things while Maggie was out. A pair of boots here, a bundle of folded clothes there. Her quilt from the farm, hand-stitched and sun-faded from all it had survived, was the last to go. She hadn’t even said goodbye. Maggie hadn’t said much either, not when she noticed the emptied drawers or the neatly made bed that hadn’t been touched in days, but the silence had a shape now, sharp and heavy and hard to walk around. Beth had tried to offer normal conversation that morning in the kitchen, but Maggie’s responses had been clipped, her eyes not quite meeting hers. Glenn had stepped in with gentle deflections, trying to smooth over the tension, but Beth had left early to finish things at the infirmary, her smile polite but not reaching her eyes.

Now, the space outside the church had been transformed. Folding tables were dragged together in the grass, lined end to end with a patchwork of mismatched chairs and tableware. Deanna had pulled the whole thing together. A welcome , she’d called it—for the newcomers Daryl and Aaron had brought in. Denise, of course, who was nervously standing near the punch bowl pretending to examine the contents of a canned fruit tray, and another pair they found taking shelter in the woods were both lingering by the side of the church, exchanging cautious glances with each other as they took everything in. Plates clinked, forks scraped, and kids chased each other between the shade patches, and the air smelled like something vaguely resembling chili. The courtyard buzzed with quiet talk, low laughter, the rustle of wind through leaves. Someone had even dug up an old boom box, playing music on half-dead batteries.

Daryl sat next to Beth at the far end of the table, his arm slung casually over the back of her chair, thumb idly tracing patterns on her shoulder. Beth leaned toward him now and then, murmuring something with the ghost of a smile. He kept his eyes mostly down, though once, when she laughed quietly at something he muttered, he allowed a small, crooked grin to break free. Judith babbled happily in Michonne’s lap a few chairs down with Carl stuffing his face next to her. Glenn and Maggie sat nearby, talking quietly with Rosita and Tara. Glenn was doing most of the talking though, as Maggie’s mind was occupied by other things, her eyes weren’t on Beth, but they were close. Flicking back and forth like she was tracking the rhythm of something only she could see. Glenn looked between them both now and then, his lips pressed into a quiet line like he could feel the electricity in the air.

Across from them sat Eugene, holding a napkin-wrapped notebook in his lap and occasionally jotting something with alarming speed. “I must say,” he declared, unprompted, “the culinary representation present this afternoon is both deeply nostalgic and tragically limited in scope. However, the red bean dish submitted by a resident known only as Mrs. Mabel contains a protein-to-legume ratio I find respectable.”

Beth blinked at him.

“Uh-huh,” Daryl muttered, reaching for a piece of bread.

Beth nudged Daryl lightly under the table. “Be nice.”

“I am ,” he muttered back.

She smiled, and Eugene, missing none of it, squinted between the two of them. “I would note, for the record, that your shared proximity and nonverbal communication have increased in both frequency and warmth. It is…statistically significant.”

“Statistically significant,” Beth repeated with a grin.

Daryl just gave Eugene a look that could've curdled milk, but Eugene, as always, missed the cue entirely.

Meanwhile, Carol, making her rounds with a plate balanced on one hip like a waitress, passed behind Daryl and ruffled his hair in a move so swift he nearly choked on his bite. “What the hell?” he muttered, swatting at her too late.

“Just checking to see if it’s still you under there,” Carol said sweetly. “Thought maybe Beth cleaned you up so good you’d gone all respectable.”

Beth laughed softly, red tinting her cheeks. “Carol.” Carol just kept walking, flashing Beth an all too-innocent smile in response as she rounded the table to return to her seat.

At the head of the table, Rick sat with his arms crossed, surveying it all with that half-watchful, half-weary gaze of his. The mistrust that had coiled tight in his chest for so long hadn’t vanished, but it had loosened. And when his eyes met Jessie’s as she passed, something gentler flickered through his expression, just for a second. Jessie smiled back, quick and fleeting when Pete wasn’t looking. Everything felt good, for a moment, at least. But there was a quiet undercurrent moving beneath it all, a simmer. The tension from the last few days still sat tight in Beth’s chest, and her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, Maggie’s silence still hummed in the back of her skull.

Daryl nudged her knee gently with his own, giving her a quick glance. "Y’alright?"

She nodded once. "Yeah.", flashing him a weak smile.

"By the by," Eugene began, pausing mid-scoop of mashed potatoes, his tone casual, as if he were discussing the week’s humidity levels, "Beth, I’ve compiled a shortlist of dietary recommendations beneficial in your first trimester. Folic acid is paramount—"


“Frolic ahshid?” Carl questioned through a mouthful of food.

Beth’s cheeks flushed instantly, and she put a hand out gently toward Eugene, trying to wave him off, “Eugene –”


Eugene, oblivious, continued. “It is pronounced Folic acid but I will forgive your mispronunciation on account of the food lodged in your chomper. It is essential for prenatal development.”

The words hadn’t fully landed yet. Around the table, a few folks looked up, puzzled. Daryl’s head snapped toward Eugene so fast it was a miracle he didn’t sprain his neck. Carol’s brows arched with a sly little smile, like this had been on her bingo card for weeks. Rick shifted in his seat, eyes flicking between Daryl, Beth, and Eugene. He didn’t say anything, not yet. But he and Michonne exchanged a glance and after his gaze flicked straight to Daryl and lingered. Gabriel, seated nearby, raised his brow. “Prenatal?”

“Eugene,” Beth said softly, her voice light and warning, like a breeze trying to divert a train. Daryl, on the other hand, looked like he was two seconds away from jumping across the table. Every inch of him was tense, his jaw locked, and fingers twitching. 

Glenn choked mid-sip on his cup of water and let out a violent cough. “Dude—” he looked between Eugene, Beth, and Maggie like someone had just thrown a live grenade onto the table. 

“Also, thiamine, iron, and the omega fatty acids are critical in neural development, particularly—” Eugene, blissfully unaware, kept going.

“Eugene,” Rick said sharply.

“What?” Eugene blinked, gears still turning in that analytical head of his. “Oh,” he said slowly, the dawning horror creeping across his face like a bad sunburn. “Oh.”

Maggie let out a strangled sound that could’ve been mistaken for a laugh, if not for the wild look in her eyes. “I’m sorry—what?”

Eugene froze. “Uh, I may have...hypothetically...violated somethin’ confidential—”

“Yeah, no shit!” Daryl spat out.


Maggie stared at her sister, stiff as a board, her face blank for a beat too long. “Tell me he’s joking.”

And then Abraham barked out a laugh so loud it startled Judith. “Well holy hell!” he boomed. “You serious? I knew you were off makin’ googly eyes and suckin’ face but now you’re out here doin the lord’s work bein all fruitful and multiplyin’!” He raised his half-empty beer like it was a champagne flute. “Mazel tov, you two.”

That earned a nervous half-laugh from Carl and a strained cough from Gabriel, but the tension didn’t break.

“Tell me it’s a joke,” Maggie said again, louder this time. Her voice cracking on the word ‘joke.’

Daryl had gone rigid beside Beth, jaw tight, and his hands clenched. She felt the pulse of him ready to move, to step between her and the wreckage of her sister’s fury. But before he could, Beth’s hand found his knee beneath the table, giving it a placating squeeze that said, Let me handle this. His eyes flicked to hers, sharp and reluctant, but he gave a barely-there nod and leaned back, seething quietly. Beth felt her heart thudding behind her ribs like it wanted out, but she swallowed the sensation and straightened up. “No, it’s not.”

Maggie blinked once. Then again, slower this time, like it hadn’t quite landed. “You’re pregnant?” Then, realization finally settled in. “ Beth, what the hell— ”

Glenn tried to put a hand on Maggie’s arm. “Maggie, maybe we should just take a minute and—”

“No–! Are you kidding me, Beth!?” Maggie’s voice cracked like a whip, cutting through the stunned quiet. Her gaze locked on her sister, wide and incredulous. “Is that why you wanted to move out? Because you didn’t want me to find out?”

“No, I was gonna tell everyone,” Beth said, her voice soft but clear. “We were, just not like this.”

“But Eugene knew?” 

“I didn’t tell him,” Beth said quickly. “He just…figured it out.”

“Pattern recognition is a skill I pride myself on.” Eugene added meekly.

Maggie blinked, her mouth twitching like it couldn’t settle between a frown and a snarl. “ How long have you known?”

Daryl stirred beside her, but Beth reached over again, still trying to manage this. “A few weeks,” she admitted softly.

“I just—God, Beth, how is this the first I’m hearing about any of it?” Maggie’s voice climbed louder, almost pleading. “You’re pregnant, and I find out because Eugene decided to talk about vitamins ?!”

Beth swallowed, trying to meet her gaze calmly. “I was going to tell you, I just needed—”

“When?” Maggie shot back. “When you were showing? When you were about to give birth? God, Beth—”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” Beth finally admitted, her brow knitting in frustration.

“ Why not? ” Maggie snapped. “I’m your sister , you didn’t even talk to me about—”

“Because I knew you’d act like this!” Beth shouted, tears pricking her voice. “You’d make me feel like I was a damn child who screwed up her life!”

Eugene cleared his throat awkwardly before standing abruptly. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ve contributed quite enough to this collective unraveling for one evening,” he mumbled, already stepping backwards, voice pitched. “I’ll be relocating my personage to literally anywhere else, possibly under the floorboards.” He made it two steps before a thick arm shot out, Abraham catching him by the back of the collar like a scruffed cat.

“Oh no, hell no,” Abraham said, half-laughing, half-scolding. “You kicked this hornet’s nest, Dr. Oz. You don’t get to slither off while the rest of us get stung to shit. You’re stayin’ put.”

“I was merely making a nutritional observation—” 

“And now you’re observing the fallout. Front row seat.”

Eugene opened his mouth like he might argue, then thought better of it as Abraham dragged him back into his seat. He cleared his throat and muttered, “I must note I was not adequately trained for this level of social combustion.” 

“None of us were, buddy,” Abraham said with a snort, “Now sit tall and try not to get your ass kicked.”

Rick still had his arms crossed as he watched from the head of the table, jaw now set. His gaze flicked from Maggie’s furious gestures to Beth’s trembling lips, then back to Daryl who looked ready to spit nails and swing at the next person who even glanced at Beth wrong. Then Rick caught it, over Daryl’s shoulder, just past the makeshift buffet tables he noticed Aaron and Eric frozen in place, eyes wide. Reg stood beside Deanna a few paces away, holding a cup of water like it might offer a distraction. Aiden and Spencer had gone quiet, but they were clearly interested. Spencer leaned against a folding chair with a smirk that Rick didn’t like. Deanna’s brows were drawn slightly, her lips tight as she looked between the group and the rest of the gathering, like someone watching a domestic unravel in public and calculating whether to intervene. Off to the side, Pete stood with Jessie and their boys, Ron and Sam, clustered close by. Jessie’s expression was taut, her hand resting protectively on Sam’s shoulder while Ron shifted uncomfortably, glancing between his parents and the scene unfolding. Pete’s jaw ticked as he watched, his eyes narrowing with something unreadable as he nursed on the beer in his hand. Rick’s stomach dropped. This wasn’t just an internal blow-up anymore, this was public, a show, and the entire community was watching it play out like rubberneckers on the side of the road. Whatever goodwill they’d built over the last few months was teetering. He looked over to Michonne who caught his eye just as she passed Judith over to Carl, and the two nodded to each other, standing almost in sync. “Alright.” Rick started, hands raised slightly in an effort to mediate. “Alright, that’s enough—”

But Beth wasn’t finished. “I know what I’m doing, Maggie. Maybe not every second of it, but I’m not some clueless girl you get to talk down to just because I’m your little sister.”

Maggie’s mouth dropped open again. “You’re eighteen, Beth! You’re young!” She shot back. “And this is—this is huge. You don’t just—how long have you even been with him?!”

Beth’s brow furrowed. “That doesn’t matter,” 

“It does when you’re having a baby with him!” Maggie’s voice was rising now.

“Oh hell,” Abraham muttered, leaning back in his chair like he was watching a spectator sport. “This is some real Maury kinda sh—”

“Abraham, not helping ,” Rosita hissed.

Rick pressed again. “This is getting out of hand, everyone needs to–” 

Maggie looked at Rick, her jaw tight as she cut him off. “Did you know about this?!”

Rick hesitated, shoulders squared as he glanced briefly toward Beth and Daryl, then met Maggie’s accusing stare. “I didn’t know anything,” his voice raised by just a hair, looking like he had aged twenty years since this all began. “And if I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t be letting Eugene of all people break the damn news.”

Beth cut in then. “You and Glenn were together for what, a year? That was enough for you, why isn't it enough for me?"

Glenn shifted awkwardly in his chair, while Maggie straightened up next to him, her jaw tight. "That was different, Beth.”

“How?” Beth demanded, standing now. “Because you were older? Because Daddy was still around to give you his blessing? Because you say so?!”

“Because I wasn’t sixteen when this all started!” Maggie shot up to her feet now, palms braced against the table. “Because at least I knew I’d have Daddy’s blessing!”

Beth’s voice rose, shrill with fury. "You don’t get to speak for Daddy, you don’t get to use him like that.”

But Maggie kept going, grief tangled in every word. "I know he wouldn’t have wanted you to throw your life away tryin’ to prove you’re grown"

“You think this is about proving something ?!”

“I think you made a choice,” Maggie spat, “without thinking about what it would do to everyone who cares about you. You’re acting like this is just some normal thing, like we’re back in the old world. but you’re not thinkin’, Beth. You’re—” She gestured wildly. “You’re impulsive, like always! You think that everything’s gonna work out just because you love him? This world doesn’t care, Beth! Babies die, people die.”

“Maggie,” Daryl growled, his voice low and dangerous.

“Y’all need to stop.” Rick barked, more firmly this time. “This ain’t the time or place,”

“No, Rick—” Maggie snapped. “She wants to be grown-up? Fine, let’s talk like grown-ups. You think you can handle a baby, Beth? After what you pulled back at the farm? What happens when things get hard? When things aren’t peaceful and sweet anymore? When the baby’s crying or sick or—hell, what if we gotta run again? You gonna stop eating? Shut down and lock yourself in the bathroom again?”

“Don’t,” Beth’s voice began to waver, “That was years ago, I’m not that girl anymore.” she breathed, pushing forward a quivering defense. “I raised Judith. I took care of her, fed her, bathed her, sang her to sleep.” Her voice cracked. “I did that. I did all of that.”

“Judith’s not yours –” 

Glenn reached for her arm as she started moving around the end of the table. “Maggie,” he murmured, voice quiet and urgent, “Just take a breath, okay? Just—please.”

Maggie shrugged him off, eyes glistening with her own frustration and grief, there was no slowing her now. “What if something goes wrong during the birth?” She pressed, her voice cracking. “What if it’s a breach? What if there’s no time and it’s you or the baby, like Lori?”

“Maggie,” Carol’s voice cut through from the side, “That’s enough, you’ve made your point.”

“You think you’re ready?” Maggie’s eyes flashed, raw grief edging every word. “Who’s gonna do it, huh? Who’s gonna pick up that knife if somethin’ goes wrong?” Her eyes snapped up, hardening as she met Daryl’s simmering gaze. “Is it gonna be you, Daryl? You gonna be the one to cut her open if it comes to that? ’Cause I’ve done it and I’ve lost enough people I love—I ain’t doin’ it again.”

Beth faltered visibly, her eyes shining with tears, her posture beginning to crumble beneath the emotional assault. “Maggie, please—” 

But Maggie pressed forward relentlessly, driven by fear and grief. “You ain’t ready for this, Beth. And he sure as hell ain’t ready to handle you fallin’ apart. He’s not—”

Daryl was up in a blink, jaw clenched like he was bracing for a punch as he slipped between the two sisters, shielding Beth. “Back the fuck off.” he growled.

“Daryl—” Michonne started.

“You don’t get to talk to her like that.” He cut Michonne off. “You don’t get to bring up shit that ain’t yours to throw around.”

Maggie turned sharply toward Daryl, eyes blazing with fresh fury. “Don’t you even—you knocked her up, never said a damn word—”

“Wasn’t none of your damn business!” He bit in response, the simmering anger finally beginning to boil over, “Beth didn’t owe you shit, not ’til she was ready.”

Maggie took a step closer, voice shaking with barely restrained emotion. “She’s my sister, Daryl! She’s always my business! I know her–”

“Bullshit,” he spat sharply. “You knew her, once. You knew some kid back at the farm, some scared girl at the prison. But you ain’t bothered to know her now, ain’t bothered to see who she is now.”

“You think I don’t know who my own sister is?” Maggie said, incredulous and furious, shaking her head bitterly. “You don’t know the first damn thing about family, Daryl. You ain’t ever had one worth a shit.”

Daryl stepped forward, eyes narrowing dangerously, voice low and seething. “You actin’ like you’re the only one who gives a damn about her. You wanna talk about stability? You wanna talk about who’s capable of handlin’ shit? I’ve been carryin’ her since we lost the goddamn prison, and I ain’t about to stand here and let you scare her into thinkin’ she can’t survive this, like she ain’t fought for every damn breath she’s still breathin’.” His voice cracked slightly under the weight of it, but the heat behind his glare never wavered.

Maggie raised her chin defiantly, eyes flashing angrily. “Carryin’ her? You think you understand what carryin’ someone means? Wait until things get real, Daryl. Wait until it’s her blood on your hands, and tell me you ain’t gonna crack.”

“You don’t get to say shit about what I can handle,” Daryl took a slow step forward, voice dropping to a raw, bitter growl. “I already had her blood on my hands, had it runnin’ through my fingers back at that fuckin’ hospital. You’d know that if you’d bothered to stick around and be there with us instead of fuckin’ off with Glenn to DC.”

Beth’s breath hitched behind him.

“Dude—” Glenn winced at that, stepping in with a hand raised. “Daryl, that’s not fair—”

“Don’t,” Daryl cut him off, not looking away from Maggie. 

Maggie's eyes widened sharply, her breath hitching as though he'd slapped her. “You got no idea—”

“No idea?” Daryl snapped fiercely, closing the gap between them with terrifying intensity. “I was there. I carried her out prayin’ she wouldn't die in my arms. Where were you, Maggie?”

The tension between them crackled dangerously, seconds away from igniting into something worse. Glenn stepped forward again, grabbing hold of Maggie’s arm, his voice strained with urgency. "Guys, please—"

But Maggie shook him off, unwilling or unable to back down. “You think I didn't feel it? You think I wasn't torn apart?” Her voice shook, eyes glistening. “I thought she was dead—”

“You wrote her off!” Daryl roared, the fury now blazing openly in his voice. “She was still alive, and you didn't even try. You ain't got the right to question what I can handle when you couldn't even handle holdin’ out for your own sister.”

“Don’t you dare turn this on me—”

“Why not?” Daryl snapped. “You’re standin’ here pretendin’ you know what’s best, but you quit on her, I didn’t, and I sure as hell ain’t gonna quit on her now. She ain’t your responsibility anymore just cause you feel guilty!”

"Enough!" Michonne’s voice rang sharply as she forced herself firmly between Daryl and Maggie, her eyes fierce, commanding their attention. "Both of you need to step back." 

“Move,” Maggie hissed. 

“Don’t think I will,” Michonne replied coolly.

But Maggie and Daryl were locked in place, neither willing to yield, the air charged dangerously between them. “Nah,” Daryl’s jaw shifted. “She wants a fight? Fine.”

“Oh, you gonna hit me, Daryl?!”

“You keep runnin’ your mouth like that I might forget who I’m talkin’ t–”

“That’s ENOUGH!” Rick’s voice tore through the tension like a thunder clap. He surged forward, shoving himself alongside Michonne between Daryl and Maggie. His face was flushed, and his eyes wide with a fury that had simmered too long beneath the surface. Rick placed a firm arm across Daryl’s chest to hold him back. “This ends here . ” he growled, his voice low but dangerous now, his presence sharp and unmovable between them. 

Daryl barely registered Rick. He stood rigid, fists clenched and rage barely held in check by Rick’s grip on him.

“This is not how we do things, don’t like it? Fine, but we are not gonna scream each other into the dirt anymore—not here, not in front of everyone, and not in front of her. ”

That last word finally reached Daryl.

Beth.

She stood a few feet behind him, frozen in place. Her face was pale, her lips parted like she was struggling to draw breath. Her hands trembled where they clutched the hem of her shirt, knuckles white and teary cornflower blue eyes locked on the ground. She looked small, cornered, humiliated. Maggie looked like she might still fight, but Glenn stepped in this time, managing to pull her back by the shoulders. Her face was red, streaked with tears, and her breath sharp and quick. Maggie’s mouth opened, but Rick’s glare stopped her cold. Not. Another. Word. Beth looked at Daryl, and her lips parted, but no words came. Her bottom lip trembled, then again, and then the first tear fell. And just like that, the heat in Daryl’s blood vanished. His breath caught in his chest and the fury dropped from his face, his fists fell open, arms going slack at his sides. “Aw, hell…” he muttered, barely above a whisper, voice suddenly raw, the fire in him guttered like a candle in the wind. He was at her side in a heartbeat, stepping away from the standoff like it had all been background noise. “Hey,” he breathed, touching her elbow like she might break. “Hey now, m’sorry. I’m right here, okay? I’m here.” Beth turned into him the second he reached her. She didn’t speak, she just pressed her face into his chest, hot silent tears slipping down her cheeks. Daryl wrapped his arms around her without hesitation, tucking her under his chin, one hand splayed across the back of her head, the other rubbing slow, grounding circles into her spine as he rocked slightly on his heels. “I got you,” he murmured into her hair. “This ain’t on you, you ain’t gotta take another damn second of this.” She nodded against his chest, the motion barely perceptible. He started to guide her away, turning their backs on the stunned silence of the gathering. His hand didn’t leave her back, low and anchoring, the other keeping her tucked under his arm like he could shield her from everything—words, stares, the whole damn world.

They were almost past the table when Maggie’s voice rose again, brittle and cracked. “You can’t just walk–”

Without missing a beat, Daryl cut Maggie off, snapping his reply over his shoulder as he herded Beth away from the tension. “Watch me!” 

Chapter 45

The sun filtered through the slats of the garage window, streaking across the dust that hung heavy in the air. Daryl sat in the corner of the space, his legs sprawled, one elbow propped on his knee as he worked on tightening a bolt on the motorcycle’s busted engine. Or pretended to. He hadn’t touched the same bolt in ten minutes. Beth was inside the house, finally asleep in bed after hours of quiet sobbing and soft apologies that broke his heart. He’d held her until her trembling stopped, sat with her on the bathroom floor when she’d gotten sick from the stress, and whispered every promise he didn’t know he was capable of forming until she started to breathe easy again and sleep finally came to her exhausted body like a mercy. Her voice, shaky and broken, still echoed in his head. The way she’d choked on sobs with her face buried in his shirt. The way Maggie exploded like a goddamn pipe bomb and shouted across that stupid potluck like it was a courtroom. Like Beth was some foolish, reckless child and he was the monster who had ruined her. Daryl tightened the bolt too hard. The wrench slipped and clanged against the frame. “Dammit.” He didn’t turn around when he heard footsteps, he didn’t need to, he could tell by the slow, tired rhythm that it was Rick. 

“You gonna smash the whole bike or just that bolt?”

Daryl grunted. “Ain’t in the mood.” 

Rick didn’t say anything at first, he just leaned against the garage wall, arms folded. “You didn’t come by the wall this morning.”

"Didn’t feel like bein’ social,” Daryl said gruffly, his response curt.

Rick let that sit for a beat. “She okay?” he asked quietly.

“No,” Daryl growled, his voice breaking. “She ain’t, cried herself sick.”

“She really pregnant?” he asked, not accusing, just confirming. 

Daryl nodded slowly, shifting his jaw. “Yeah, she is.” 

Rick rubbed a hand over his face. “How far along?”

“Couple months, maybe more. She didn’t even know right away. Hell, we barely—” Daryl cut himself off, shaking his head. “Wasn’t supposed to happen like that, nothin’ was planned.” 

“Nothing ever is,” Rick said quietly. “I talked to Maggie,” he went on. “She’s…hurting. Not just because of Beth, but because of Lori, because of Hershel. You know that.”

“She don’t get to take that out on Beth,” Daryl growled. “Beth ain’t done nothin’ but survive, and now she’s scared outta her mind ‘cause her own damn sister screamed in her face like she was some fool little girl gettin’ knocked up' at prom.”

“No, she doesn’t and I told her she owes both of you an apology.”


“That ain’t gonna fix nothin.” Daryl scoffed.


Rick inhaled through his nose, slow and controlled. “Maggie’s scared, she’s not thinking straight. She saw what Lori went through, saw what it did to Carl, what it did to me. Beth is her sister, Daryl. She was the only family she had left and she lost her once–”

“She didn’t lose her,” Daryl snapped, sitting upright now, heat flaring under his skin like kindling. “She left her. She wrote her off, didn’t even look —just packed up and went to D.C. like Beth weren’t worth diggin’ for.”

Rick’s jaw set hard. He stepped forward, not shouting, but firm as iron. “That’s not fair.” Daryl opened his mouth, but Rick cut him off, voice tightening. “Did you think we were still alive after the prison fell?”

That hit like a brick to the gut.

Daryl’s mouth opened, but no words came. Because no, he hadn’t, not really. Not after the fences came down, not after the tank, not after the screaming, and the bullets, and the smoke. He’d searched the woods like a man possessed, sure, but deep down? He’d thought they were gone. Rick saw it land when Daryl’s stare dropped to the floor. “We all thought we’d lost each other,” Rick said, more quietly now. “Maggie thought Beth was gone. Just like you thought we were. She didn’t stop caring, she just…couldn’t afford to keep hoping.”

Daryl exhaled through his nose, jaw twitching. The fight hadn’t left him, not completely, but something cracked under that truth.

Rick let the silence linger, let Daryl sit with it. And then, softer, he continued “Maggie lost her once, Daryl, found her, and then found out she’s pregnant and didn’t hear it from either of you. That’s a hell of a thing to find out from Eugene…she’s terrified.”

“I don’t give a damn if she’s scared,” Daryl snapped. “She don’t get to throw around what happened to Lori like it’s a weapon.” 

Rick didn’t argue. 

Daryl rubbed a hand over his face. “Beth…she was so happy, just for a minute, man. Then Eugene ran his damn mouth and Maggie went feral and—” his voice caught as the weight of the situation pressed down on him just a bit more. “She wasn’t ready,” he muttered, voice low and raw. “She wasn’t ready to tell nobody, sure as hell not like that.”

The silence between them stretched. Daryl shifted his weight, his body language jittery with nerves he’d never admit to. Rick stepped closer, his voice softening. “And what about you? Are you okay?”

“I ain’t ever had nothin’ good last,” Daryl muttered. “So no, I ain’t okay. Not when the one damn thing I did right is hurtin’.”

Rick didn’t speak right away. He just watched Daryl, the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers clenched the wrench like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. The silence hung there between them, dense, raw, and heavy with all the things they didn’t usually say out loud. Then, gently, he asked: “You love her?”

Daryl didn’t answer right away.

Rick didn’t push. He waited, patient and still.

Finally, Daryl shifted, his mouth opening slightly before he shut it again. Then, he spoke in a voice that was barely louder than a breath: “Yeah, I do.” It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t poetic, but it was the most honest thing he’d ever said. Daryl sat back, the word like a weight that lifted and pressed down all at once. “Don’t know when it happened, just…did. She got under my skin and started carvin’ out space I didn’t even know I had left.” He swallowed. “Ain’t never said it before.”

Rick let the words settle, the silence this time not heavy but respectful, like something sacred had just been spoken aloud. He gave a slow, knowing nod. “Then that’s all that matters,” Rick said quietly, the rough edge in his voice worn smooth with sincerity. “You love her, she loves you. Ain’t anyone else’s business what shape that took or when it happened. Not Maggie’s, not the group’s, and not mine.” Daryl blinked slowly, staring at the concrete floor like it held the answers he couldn’t say out loud. Rick stepped closer, crouching beside the bike so they were eye-level. “You aren’t alone in this, Daryl. You think you are because you’ve always been the one on the edges, watchin’ and fightin’ for everyone else. But not anymore, not with this.” He nodded toward the door that led into the house. “Beth and the baby? That’s family now, and we protect family.”

Daryl swallowed hard, his fingers flexing on the wrench. “Don’t know how to do any of this.” 

Rick smiled faintly. “None of us did. Ask me if I was ready when Lori told me she was pregnant with Carl. Hell, ask me if I was ready to raise Judith with the way the world is now. I’m still tryin’ to figure out how to keep people alive, and most days I feel like I’m fakin’ it.” Daryl looked over at him finally, and Rick met his gaze. “But you? You’re doin’ better than half the men I knew before the world fell apart.”

Daryl snorted. “That ain’t a high bar.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true. You did right by her last night. After everything blew up, you didn’t leave her to drown in it. You held her through it, that’s what matters.”

Daryl’s throat bobbed. “Wish I could’ve spared her from all of it.” 

“No one can,” Rick said. “Not now, not in this world, but you can walk through it with her.” 

Daryl rubbed at his face again, smearing grease across his cheek without noticing. His shoulders hunched like he was trying to make himself smaller, to keep the storm from spilling out of him. “She deserves better.” 

“She deserves someone who loves her and fights for her, and she’s got that,” Rick said, no hesitation in his voice. I know you think you don’t deserve her, or that baby. That if you let yourself have something good, it’s gonna be ripped away.” Daryl said nothing, but his shoulders curled inward, like Rick had peeled something back too far. “And you’re not alone,” Rick went on. “You don’t have to keep proving yourself to us, not to me, and I’ll say it plain—Beth and that baby? They’re lucky to have you.”
 

Daryl swallowed hard, his voice rough as gravel. “Don’t feel like it.” 

“Then fake it until it does,” Rick said, his tone sharpening just a little. “Because I need you steady, we all do. Beth needs you present, not stuck in your head thinking you’re not enough. That girl’s been through hell and back and the only time I’ve seen her look safe is when she’s next to you.” He glanced toward the road outside the garage. “Maggie’s angry, yeah, but not at you. It’s grief and fear and guilt, it’ll pass. She loves her sister, she’ll come around, just give her time.” Rick stood, wiping his palms on his jeans, then paused and looked down at Daryl one last time. “You ever need to talk, you come find me. Doesn’t matter what time it is or what it’s about.”


Daryl hesitated just a second longer before setting the wrench down, standing with a quiet grunt. He wiped his hands on his jeans and gave Rick one last look as he turned to leave. Grateful, tired, but steadier. “Thanks, man.”

Rick paused at the threshold, one foot already out in the sunlight before looking back at him with that tired, knowing half-smile. “That’s what family’s for.” And without another word, he left.

The sun had started to dip behind the houses, casting a warm amber hue through the front windows by the time Daryl slipped back inside. The quiet hit him like a warm blanket, not the smothering kind — the kind that felt earned, that whispered you can rest now in a voice he still didn’t fully trust. His boots thudded dully against the wood floor as he crept down the hallway. The door was cracked just slightly. Enough for him to see her. She was curled on her side, the blankets pulled loosely over her frame, a sliver of her pale shoulder visible in the late sun. Her braid had unraveled in sleep, strands of hair falling over her cheek. Daryl stood in the doorway for a long moment, just watching her breathe. Soft, steady. No tears. No panicked tossing. No choked sobs into his shirt.

Just…rest. 

His eyes softened. That ever-present tension in his shoulders slowly loosened as he stepped into the room and sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb her. His calloused fingers reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, just gentle enough not to wake her.

Still, her brow twitched slightly. Beth stirred, eyes fluttering open. “Daryl?” she rasped, voice still thick with sleep.

“M'here,” he murmured.

Beth blinked up at him, sleep making her movements slow. She reached for his hand, finding it easily, and pulled it to her chest. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Didn’t wanna wake you,” he whispered.
 

She let out a soft breath, her fingers curling tighter around his. “You okay?” 

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Had a talk with Rick, was long overdue.” 

Beth’s eyes searched his face, reading between the lines. “How bad?” 

“Not bad,” he said, then added, quieter, “Needed.”

Beth swallowed and shifted closer, her forehead pressing to the back of his hand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “About everything.” 

“Don’t,” Daryl said instantly. “Ain’t you who should be apologizin’. You didn’t do nothin.” 

Her eyes glistened again, but the tears didn’t fall. “It just all went so wrong.” 

He leaned down and kissed her temple gently, lingering. “Ain’t nothin’ gone too wrong we can’t fix.” She swallowed, and nodded slowly, her body relaxing again. Several heartbeats of silence passed between them, and then Daryl spoke: “Told him I love you.”

Beth stilled. Her eyes widened just slightly, like she didn’t trust what she’d heard.

“I ain’t never said it before, not to anyone, but I ain’t takin’ it back.” 

Beth’s breath shook. “Say it again.”
 

He looked down at her, his voice low and gravel-edged but steady as stone. “I love you.”

And just like that, the tears came again, but this time they weren’t jagged or gutting. They were quiet, soft, and warm. Beth reached up and cupped his face, pulling him down to kiss her, slow and deep and trembling. “I love you too,” she whispered against his lips. He rested his forehead against hers, eyes closing, his world narrowing down to the steady beat of her heart and the feeling of her hand in his. Daryl moved then, carefully kicking off his boots and easing into bed behind her. He pulled her gently into him, arms wrapping around her middle. Beth sank back into his chest with a shuddering sigh, like all the tension in her had finally run out of fight.

His chin came to rest in the crook of her shoulder. “You sleep,” he whispered. “I got you.”

And he meant it. 

Notes:

It only took 45 chapters but our boy has finally dropped the big L word!

Chapter 46

It had been three days since the potluck.

Three long, brittle days where Alexandria tiptoed around them like glass underfoot. People still looked when Beth walked by, not with cruelty, but with that strange, quiet tension that always followed behind gossip. Carol had shown up once, dropping off extra blankets with a mumbled quip about “this place being draftier than it looks,” and then left before Beth could answer. Rosita had come by the next day with tea that was found from one of the recent supply runs, claiming it was good for nausea, though Beth had a feeling it was just Rosita’s way of showing she gave a damn. Neither stayed long.

But it was Noah who knocked first.

The soft rapping at the door came mid-morning, while the house was still quiet. Beth had just finished brushing out her hair when the sound broke through the silence. She hesitated at the door, unsure if she even wanted to open it, but her gut told her who it was before she looked through the window. Noah stood with his hands in the pockets of his jacket, glancing off toward the street like he might bolt if she didn’t answer quick. When the door creaked open, he looked up, eyes warm but unsure. “Hey,” he said.

Beth shifted slightly, one hand resting against the frame. “Hey.”

“You…got a minute?” he asked.

She nodded and stepped back, letting him in. The moment he crossed the threshold, the silence wrapped back around them, gentler than it had been in days, but still weighted. Noah lingered near the door, clearly not sure if he should sit, speak, or just leave again. Beth decided to help him out. “You want somethin’ to drink?”

He shook his head. “No, I just…I needed to come by.” His voice dropped as he looked around, then settled his gaze back on her. “I should’ve said something that night, when Maggie started shouting.”

Beth’s lips pressed together. She didn’t want to relive it, but she nodded. “It all happened so fast.”

“Still,” Noah said, stepping closer, “I should’ve said something. You didn’t deserve that.” His voice cracked with guilt. “Not after everything you did to keep me going at Grady. You were one of the only people there who gave a damn about someone other than themselves.” He swallowed hard, like the memory still burned. “I should’ve said it sooner, but...I think you’re gonna be a good mom.” Beth blinked, the words landing somewhere deep and quiet. It was something she hadn’t let herself believe in days. “I saw you with Judith,” Noah added. “And the way you held that girl at Grady, the one who always cried? You were the only one who could calm her. You didn’t even hesitate.”

Beth felt her throat tighten. “I was scared then too.”

“I know,” Noah said. “But you showed up anyway. That’s what matters.”

Beth looked away, blinking fast. Her fingers twisted in the hem of her cardigan, the one Daryl had draped over her shoulders this morning before heading out. She hadn’t left the house much since the potluck. Part of her didn’t want to, the part that didn’t want to be seen until she could breathe without feeling ashamed. “I ain’t got much right now,” she admitted. “I’m tryin’. But it still feels like I got broken pieces where steady ones should be.”

Noah’s expression softened. “We all do. That’s why we stick together.” He hesitated, then added, “If you ever need help, with anything, I’m here. You and Daryl looked out for me when you didn’t have to, I remember that.”

Beth nodded slowly. “Thank you, that means a lot.”

Noah gave her a half-smile, tentative but real. “I should get going. Didn’t wanna interrupt, just—figured I owed you my voice. Even if it’s late.”

“It ain’t,” she said gently, stopping him before he reached the door. “It ain’t too late.” He looked at her for a long beat before nodding, his shoulders easing. Then, with a final smile, he slipped back outside and let the quiet settle behind him. Beth closed the door and leaned her back against it. She didn’t cry, instead, she breathed. Not the jagged, panicked kind. Just a breath, a steady one, and for the first time in days, it didn’t feel like she was waiting to fall apart again.

___________________________________________________________________

The late afternoon light slanted gold through the trees beyond the wall, casting long shadows on the packed earth as Daryl approached the gate, a limp rabbit slung over his shoulder. Sweat clung to the back of his neck, and his shirt was damp down the spine, but the rhythm of the hunt had helped a little. enough to bleed some of the pressure off, even if it was waiting for him the second he crossed back inside.

He saw Glenn before he even passed through.

Glenn was leaning near the gatepost, arms crossed, chewing his lip like he wasn’t sure if he should speak or just nod and leave. But the look on his face made it clear he wasn’t there by chance.

Daryl exhaled through his nose, great.

“Hey,” Glenn said, standing up straighter as Daryl stepped inside the walls.

Daryl gave a short grunt, not slowing. “Glenn.”

“I—uh…” Glenn jogged a couple steps to catch up. “Can I walk with you a sec?” Daryl didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no either. He just kept walking, and Glenn took that as permission. The silence stretched between them until they reached the narrow lane that led to the house. “How’s she doin’?” Glenn asked finally, his voice low.

Daryl’s grip on the rabbit strap shifted. “She’s alright.”

“That meaning she’s actually alright, or just not crying every minute?”

Daryl stopped. Not abruptly, not like a threat, just paused in his step, his shoulders squaring but not rising. “You tryin’ to ask somethin’?”

“No,” Glenn said quickly. “No, I’m not—I’m not tryin’ to dig. I just...” He sighed. “I just wanted to check on you both after everything that happened.”

Daryl glanced at him sideways. The tightness was still there, but he wasn’t bristling anymore. Just watching, measuring. “She’s better than she was,” he said at last. “We’re takin’ it day by day.”

Glenn nodded. “Good, that’s good.” They stood in a loose patch of quiet, a breeze stirring leaves across the lane. “I should’ve done more,” Glenn said suddenly. “At the potluck. I should’ve stepped in sooner.”

Daryl shrugged, but not dismissively. “You tried. That’s more’n I can say for most.”

Glenn looked down, scuffing a boot at the pavement. “I never wanted it to go like that.”

Daryl adjusted the strap on his shoulder and looked toward the house. “Neither did we.”

Glenn followed his gaze. “She’s lucky to have you, y’know.”

Daryl shifted slightly, uncomfortable with the compliment. “She’s the one holdin’ me together most days.” A pause passed, then Daryl added, quieter, “But I ain’t lettin’ that happen again.”

Glenn blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean Maggie.” His voice was flat now, firm. “I ain’t lettin’ her near Beth ‘til she’s got her shit together.” Glenn raised his brows but didn’t argue. “She talks to her like that again,” Daryl continued, jaw clenching, “I ain’t gonna be polite about it. Don’t care if she’s family, she hurt her bad.”

Glenn nodded slowly, guilt darkening his features. “I get it. And I’m not sayin’ she doesn’t deserve space. But I think Maggie knows she crossed a line. I think she’s…trying to figure out how to fix it.”

Daryl looked at him dead-on. “Then she better figure it out from a distance. Beth don’t owe her a thing.” That silenced Glenn, and after a beat, Daryl’s expression eased, just slightly. “Ain’t mad at you,” he muttered. “I know you’re tryin’. I’m just...protectin’ what’s mine.”

Glenn offered a quiet, rueful smile. “I’d do the same.”

They stood a moment longer before Daryl gave a short nod and turned toward the house. “I should get this cleaned and cooked. She’s been off her stomach again.”

Glenn nodded. “If you need anything, either of you, just knock.”

Daryl didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. He just stepped up onto the porch and opened the door to the little house with the fluttering curtains, where Beth waited on the other side. The screen door clicked shut behind him, softer this time, like even it knew the house had been through enough lately. Daryl dropped the sling with the rabbit on the counter and moved toward the sink, the stillness of the house wrapping around him. A small lamp in the corner cast warm amber over the worn furniture and hand-mended curtains. From the other room, he heard a creak and then the sound of bare feet padding softly against the floor. Beth appeared in the doorway a few seconds later, wearing one of his shirts again, too big on her but familiar. Her hair was down, and there were pink creases on her cheek from sleeping face-down. “You’re back,” she said gently, as if testing the air for tension before stepping into it.

“Didn’t wanna wake you,” Daryl muttered. “Wasn’t gone long.”

Beth crossed the room to him slowly, arms folded across her waist like she didn’t know what to do with them. “Catch anything?”

He nodded toward the rabbit on the counter. “Little one. Enough for stew if you stretch it.” Beth gave a faint smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. They stood in silence a moment longer, the hum between them soft but unfinished. Daryl hesitated, watching her for a beat longer than necessary. Then he said, “Glenn caught me outside th’gate, on my way back in.”

“Did he say anything?”

He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, then nodded once. “Asked how we were, felt bad.”

Her throat bobbed. “You mad at him?”

“Nah, not at him.” His voice dropped. “Told him Maggie ain’t welcome near you ‘til she’s got her shit together.”

Beth’s breath caught just slightly, but she nodded. Her eyes shimmered again, tired, but not surprised. “I don't want a fight,” she said quietly.

“You ain’t gonna get one,” Daryl replied. “Not from me. Not from anyone while I’m breathin’.”

She stepped closer, her fingers brushing against the hem of his shirt. “I keep thinkin’ about it. Over and over.”

Daryl’s hand reached for her instinctively, anchoring around her waist. “Ain’t nothin’ you did wrong.”

 

Beth rested her forehead against his chest. “I just…I didn’t know how to tell her, or anyone. It felt like something I had to keep safe a little longer. Something that was just ours.”

Daryl wrapped both arms around her now, holding her close, pressing his face into her hair. “Still is.” he murmured.

Beth stood there for a moment longer before she tilted her face up toward his. “Were the woods good to you?”

He huffed out the faintest breath of a laugh. “Better company than people.”

Her lips twitched. “You gonna cook dinner, or is this one of those ‘you kill it, I clean it’ things?”

“You ain’t cleanin’ nothin’,” Daryl said flatly. “You’re barely back on your feet.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re tired.”

She paused. “I am,” she admitted. “But I slept better today than I have in weeks.”

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Good, means we’re gettin’ somewhere.”

Beth tugged gently at his shirt. “C’mon. Sit with me while it’s still quiet.”

He followed her to the couch without a word, letting her curl into his side as the light from the window dimmed to gold, then ash.

The days stretched long and warm after that, and Beth had started to venture out more. At first, it was just the porch. She’d sit on the top step with a cup of tea while she watched people pass. Judith toddled by one morning with Carl close behind, and Beth smiled at them warmly. Next it was the pantry with an hour here, half an hour there. She helped organize and stack inventory when her back let her. Some days, her eyes would lift and catch glimpses of Maggie and always, Beth’s breath would hitch and her gaze would dart away like a startled bird, her body turning slightly as if to remind herself to keep moving.

She never said a word, and neither did Maggie.

By the end of the week, she stepped back into the infirmary.

It was strange how natural it felt, slipping back into her old rhythm. Beth adjusted the inventory quietly, took temperatures, changed dressings, and checked on the fevered boy in the corner room without waking him. She worked without fanfare. The others gave her space, and she was grateful for that. Pete noticed her halfway through the morning. He paused mid-note, brows lifting. “Didn’t think I’d see you back this soon,” he said, tone somewhere between impressed and surprised.

Beth glanced up, not quite smiling. “Felt like time.”

Pete cleared his throat, awkward as ever. “Well...glad you’re here.” He then gestured vaguely toward her stomach, where her shirt had begun to stretch slightly tighter around her middle. “And, uh—congratulations on the baby, really.”

Beth blinked. “Thank you.”

Pete nodded, still visibly unsure of how to navigate the moment. “You’ll both do alright.”

She didn’t say anything at first, just focused on organizing a tray of gauze and gloves, but then, she said softly. “We’re tryin’.”

The soft click of the door caught Beth’s ear as she finished wiping down the exam table, the disinfectant smell still lingering in the air. She didn’t look up right away, she figured it was Denise, or maybe one of the Alexandrians needing supplies.

“I come bearing moral support,” a voice announced. “And snacks, mostly snacks.”

Beth looked over her shoulder just as Tara stepped into the room, holding two granola bars like they were offerings to a small, tired god. She had that lopsided smile on, the one that usually meant she was about to say something either wildly inappropriate or weirdly insightful. “Hey,” Beth said, surprised, but genuinely pleased. “You didn’t have to come all the way over.”

“Yeah, well,” Tara shrugged, setting one of the bars down on the desk and hopping up to sit on the edge. “I figured if you were brave enough to come back in here, the least I could do was make sure you had something that tastes vaguely like chocolate.”

Beth smirked faintly and picked up the granola bar. “Is it the good kind of vague, or the weird kind?”

“Oh, definitely weird,” Tara said. “But like...the good kind of weird.” Tara swung her legs slightly, her gaze softening. “Seriously, though. I just wanted to say I’m glad you’re back. And...I’m sorry. For what happened, for not saying anything, for letting it all blow up like that.”

Beth looked down at the granola bar. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Maybe not, but I was still there.” Tara shrugged again, more subdued now. “And it sucked, all of it.”

Beth nodded slowly. “Yeah. It did.”

“You don’t have to talk about it. But just so you know? I think you’re gonna be a really good mom.”

Beth’s eyes stung unexpectedly, and she blinked fast to clear it. “That’s sweet of you.”

“It’s not sweet, it’s facts.” Tara tapped the wrapper of her granola bar for emphasis. “You’re kind, and brave, and Judith looks at you like you hung the moon.”

Beth ducked her head a little, but she didn’t hide her face. Her thumb rubbed over the curve of her belly absently. “It still scares me.”

“Good, it means you care.” Tara leaned forward and bumped her knee lightly against Beth’s. “Anyway, just wanted to say all that. Didn’t want you thinking we’re all just standing back, hoping you’re okay. We’re here, and we’ve got your back, even if things are messy right now.”

Beth’s voice was quiet. “Thanks, Tara.”

“Don’t mention it.” Tara hopped off the desk and stretched. “And hey, if anyone gives you a hard time again? I’m not above fake-tripping into them while carrying something heavy and sharp.”

Beth laughed softly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Tara winked. “Good, now eat the weird bar. That baby’s got taste buds to ruin.”

___________________________________________________________________

The rhythmic rasp of sandpaper against wood echoed softly from the garage. Daryl was hunched over a plank balanced on sawhorses, shaping it by hand. It would be the last shelf for the baby’s room, or maybe another drawer for the old dresser he’d dragged home two days ago. He wasn’t sure yet. He just needed to keep moving. He heard the footsteps before he saw her, light but deliberate, punctuated by the distinct pause of someone leaning against a doorway with the intent to observe. “You know,” Carol drawled from the garage entrance, arms crossed, “for someone who hates attention, you’ve sure become the talk of the town.”

Daryl huffed lightly in response. “Ain’t exactly somethin’ I asked for.”

Carol stepped closer, eyeing over what he was working on. “Looks like someone's taken up woodworking therapy.”

Daryl didn’t look up. “Beats standin’ around doin’ nothin’.”

Carol stepped inside, glancing over the unfinished piece. “Let me guess. A shelf? An elaborate baby bunker with walker-proof hinges?”

He finally glanced at her, his reply dry. “Drawer.”

“Shame,” she said. “I liked the bunker idea. Well, it looks better than you do.”

“Yeah, well. Drawer don’t gotta deal with people.”

Carol gave a mock gasp. “Why, Daryl Dixon. Are you suggesting Alexandria’s not full of reasonable, emotionally balanced individuals?” He didn’t answer, though the edges of his lips twitched briefly. A beat passed between them, quiet but not uncomfortable. Finally, she asked, “So, how’s your blood pressure? It come back down yet?”

Daryl grunted, then muttered, “Almost.”

Carol smirked, eyes glinting. “Eugene’s been hiding like a raccoon with a guilty conscience. Rosita says he’s been making himself sparse. I think he’s actually been sleeping in the pantry so there’s less chance of crossing your path.”

Daryl snorted. “Ain’t surprised.”

“You scare the hell out of him.”

“Good.”

Carol raised a brow. “That wasn’t a joke.”

“Wasn’t tryin’ to be funny.”

She laughed anyway. There was a pause before she added, quieter this time, “Seriously though, I came to check on you.”

Daryl didn’t respond at first, just worked a little slower. He finally muttered, “Ain’t me you should be checkin’ on.”

“Already did, I stopped by the infirmary yesterday. Beth’s looking better, stronger…she even smiled at me.”

Yeah,” Daryl murmured, barely audible. “She’s tough.”

“She’s trying,” Carol said. “And for what it’s worth, so are you. Which is more than I can say for some people.” Her tone cooled just enough to make her meaning clear. Daryl’s hands stilled. He didn’t need to ask who she meant. “I don’t like what Maggie said,” Carol added, her voice flatter now. “Or how she said it. You know, sometimes our little gang isn’t the paragon of tact, but even Abraham knew when to shut the hell up.” She leaned against the workbench. “You know I’m on your side, right?” At that, Daryl looked at her fully for the first time since she came in. “I’m serious,” she said. “You and Beth, I’m glad. She’s good for you, and you’re good for her. People forget what that looks like sometimes when it doesn’t fit in their neat little boxes. Don’t let this crap make you think less of what you’ve built with her, you’ve got something good and steady and if Maggie can’t see that right now, well…that’s her problem.”

Daryl didn’t respond right away, but the way his jaw loosened, the way his shoulders eased slightly, said enough. “Thanks,” he muttered.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to your drawer,” she said. “Let me know when you start building the crib. I’ll bring paint.” Carol paused at the threshold, calling over her shoulder. “I’m proud of you, by the way.”

“For what?” he asked, genuinely baffled.

“For stepping up, for standing beside her when it mattered, and for not decking Maggie, even though I know you wanted to.”

Daryl shook his head, quieter now. “Don’t feel like I did much right.”

“Well,” Carol said with a smirk, “you did enough right that Eugene’s developing a vitamin deficiency from hiding indoors, so that’s gotta count for something.”

Daryl huffed out a laugh at that. It was short and rough, but it was genuine.

Carol grinned, satisfied. “Just don’t forget to come up for air every now and then. The rest of us? We’re still here.” And just like that, she was gone, sunlight catching in her silvering hair.

Daryl watched her go, and after he got right back to work, the rasp of the sandpaper a little steadier now.

Chapter 47

Eugene had faced down walkers, starvation, dehydration, and once even a rogue possum in the pantry. None of those encounters made his palms sweat like the one he was approaching now. It was a known fact, at least to him, that there were a handful of things in this world one did not approach lightly.

Unattended bear traps.

Open flames near gasoline.

And Daryl Dixon, especially Daryl Dixon when he had a wrench in his hand and a bad week behind him.

Eugene stood just inside the threshold of the garage, he had considered turning around three times before he forced himself to walk forward slowly and carefully with the grace of someone approaching a rattlesnake that might also be carrying a crossbow. Daryl was crouched near the motorcycle, head down, arms tense as he adjusted something in the engine. There was grease on his knuckles, sweat at his temples, and his brow was furrowed with focus. His entire demeanor read: Do not approach unless you're prepared to lose a limb. 

Eugene cleared his throat once.

No response.

He cleared it louder.

Still nothing.

So, with the bravery of a man walking into a lion’s den in a meat suit, Eugene took one step closer. “Pardon me, Daryl?” The sound of a wrench clinking against metal made Eugene flinch, whereas Daryl didn’t even twitch. Eugene cleared it again, even louder this time, clutching his notebook to his chest like a shield. “Pardon the intrusion, Daryl, but I come bearing intentions of peace, and…contrition.”

Daryl didn’t look up, he just muttered, “You got five seconds.”

“I’ll be succinct.” Eugene stepped one foot closer, and then retracted it immediately, just in case the motion was perceived as aggressive. “I am here to formally extend a direct and heartfelt apology for my verbal indiscretion regarding Miss Greene's gestational state at the community meal." Now Daryl looked up, and dear God, Eugene wanted to flee. He had seen storms roll across Georgia skies with more mercy than what was currently in Daryl’s eyes. “I realize,” Eugene said quickly, “That I am perhaps the last person you wish to see right now. Which is valid, and expected. But I was not aiming to broadcast deeply personal information out of malice,” Eugene went on, words pouring out like water from a cracked dam. “My mouth got ahead of my sense, which is frankly, a chronic condition. You see, I was simply attempting to share nutritional information with Beth, and it was not my intention to out your familial expansion.”

Daryl slowly wiped his hands on a rag, still silent.

“I understand if you’d like to punch me in the face. I’ve taken the liberty of removing my readers to reduce collateral damage.” He removed the glasses from his pocket and held them up, as though expecting Daryl to take that as a cue.

Daryl just stared.

Eugene lowered the glasses slowly. “Right, not helpful.” He shifted on his feet. “I meant no harm, only to contribute. Poorly timed though it was, my intent was not to shame, ridicule, or endanger. I have nothing but the utmost respect for Beth, and…you. Your parenting potential is promising, based on observed protective behaviors, pattern recognition, and—”

Daryl stood, slowly, and Eugene nearly blacked out. He looked at Eugene with the expression of someone who could skin a squirrel without blinking. “Beth likes you,” Daryl said finally, voice flat.

“I—pardon?”

“I said,” Daryl repeated, stepping closer with that slow, deliberate gait Eugene usually associated with big cats, “Beth likes you.”

Eugene blinked. “I…appreciate that.”

“That’s the only reason you’re still breathin’.”

Eugene swallowed thickly. “Understood.”

Daryl gave him a long look, not quite deadly, but definitely somewhere on the same spectrum. “You embarrassed her,” he said. “She cried all damn night, ain’t somethin’ I’m gonna forget easy.”

“I didn’t mean to humiliate her,” Eugene said quietly. “I swear, I was excited and I overstepped and I spoke up when I should’ve just shut up. I accept full accountability and while I do not prefer physical retribution, my offer still stands if you feel it would help you emotionally process—”

Daryl studied him for a long, long moment. Long enough for Eugene to wonder if maybe this was the part where the silence was broken by a wrench being embedded in his skull. But instead, Daryl leaned back against the workbench and let out a low sigh, cutting him off “I ain’t gonna hit you.” 

“You’re sure?”

“Would’ve done it already.”

“…That is comforting to know.”

Daryl let out a breath through his nose. It sounded dangerously close to a growl, but then, he said flatly, “Ain’t mad.”

Eugene blinked. “You’re…not?”

“You’re an idiot,” Daryl clarified. “But not a mean one.”

Eugene swallowed. “That is…a fair assessment.”

“Just shut your damn mouth next time,” Daryl said. “Let her speak for herself.”

Eugene nodded furiously. “Understood loud and clear, crystal even. You have my solemn vow.”  he turned to leave, but paused. “And, if permissible…I’ve assembled a packet of nutritional guidance tailored to second-trimester development. It’s color-coded.”

Daryl gave him a long look. “…Leave it on the table,” he muttered.

Eugene nodded, practically radiant. “Consider it done.” And with that, he walked off—stiff-backed, and victorious in the way only Eugene could be.

Daryl watched him go. “Dumb ass.” he muttered, but when he turned back to the bike, there was just the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

______________________________________________________________

The infirmary windows were cracked open, letting in the spring laced air. Beth stood near the shelves, methodically sorting through bandages and antiseptics, the motion slow and meditative. It had been a quiet day. No new injuries, no kids throwing up, just the sound of birdsong outside and the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath her boots.

And then she heard the front door creak.

“Beth?” came Eugene’s unmistakable voice, low and cautious. 

She turned, already smiling just a little. “Hey, Eugene.”

 He lingered awkwardly near the doorway, his posture rigid with uncertainty. “I—I do not mean to impose. You appear presently engaged in triage and or inventory…or both. I can extricate myself if—”

“It’s okay,” she said, brushing off her hands on her shirt and tilting her head. “What’s on your mind?”

He lingered another second before stepping in fully. “I do not wish to occupy your valuable time overlong, but I have, in recent days, experienced a gnawing compulsion to make amends for a grievous misstep on my part. Specifically, the one made at the communal potluck.”

Beth blinked at him, “You mean when you told everybody I was pregnant?” 

Eugene winced. “That would indeed be the event in question, yes.”

 Beth crossed her arms loosely, her voice warm. “Eugene, it’s okay.” 

His brow furrowed. “I—pardon?” 

“It’s okay,” she repeated, softer now. “You didn’t mean to hurt me.” 

“I didn’t mean to—but I did,” he said with quiet emphasis. “Your confidence was betrayed, even if inadvertently, and the resulting interpersonal fallout appeared…not insignificant. In hindsight, my timing was—” He swallowed. “—exceptionally poor.”

Beth walked over and rested a hand lightly on his arm. “You were tryin’ to help, I know that.” 

Eugene blinked, mouth twitching. “You’re not upset with me?” 

“I was shocked,” she admitted, with a small laugh. “And a little embarrassed, but not at you. You’ve always looked out for me in your own way. He stood there a moment, processing her words like they were written in an unfamiliar dialect. Then, slowly, he relaxed, just a little. “I’m okay, Daryl’s okay, and the baby’s okay.” Beth continued gently. “That’s all that really matters in the end.”

At the word baby, Eugene perked slightly, almost like a switch flipped in his brain. “Yes. On the subject of which—did you receive the nutritional compendium I left? I organized it by trimester, but given the current stage of your pregnancy, the color-coded section in soft green tones is most relevant. Rich in folate. I also included a recipe for canned bean stew that avoids sodium overload while maintaining protein density.” 

Beth’s heart warmed. “I did get it, and I really liked the little tab with the doodle of the dancing carrot.”

He looked sheepish. “Artistic liberties.” Eugene then straightened. “I also took the liberty of including a set of substitute items in the event of legume scarcity. You’ll note page seventeen references acorns, which, while labor-intensive to leach, are—” 

“Eugene,” she interrupted gently, eyes bright with amusement. “It really meant a lot. Thank you.” 

There was a pause, then he cleared his throat. “I’ve been…amending the document, updating for the third trimester. Higher iron demands, potential fluid retention, if you would like, I could prepare a revised volume for you when the time comes.”

Beth’s heart softened. “I’d like that.”

And then, because he looked so shy, so painfully unsure of himself, she stepped forward and hugged him. Eugene froze like a statue. Then, with great hesitation, he patted her back with the stiff gentleness of a man handling a priceless artifact. When she pulled back, his face was flushed. He adjusted his glasses three times in quick succession. “I, uh…I shall return to my abode.”

“You do that,” Beth said, the smile on her lips lasting long after the door shut behind him.

Notes:

I lovingly dub this chapter, 'Eugene's apology tour' lol

Chapter 48

Notes:

This'll be a three chapter week! My brother's birthday is coming up in a few days so we'll consider this part of the celebration!

Admittedly this chapter was a lil bit of a toughie for me to write! So fingers crossed that it came out alright

A knock broke the quiet, soft and familiar.

Beth froze in the kitchen, one hand still resting on the kettle she’d just moved off the heat. Her heart stuttered once, a flicker of fear racing through her before she could catch it. Most knocks lately had been from Rosita, Carol, sometimes Tara and Rick. Not timid like that, not uncertain. She glanced toward the door, pulse ticking in her neck.

Another knock came, two quick raps, then nothing.

Judith, asleep in the bassinet nearby, stirred faintly but didn’t wake. Beth brushed her hand over the baby’s back, then walked quietly across the living room. Her fingers hesitated on the knob before she cracked the door, and saw her.

Maggie stood on the porch, arms crossed tightly, shoulders hunched like she was trying to fold herself inward. Her face was pale, her eyes looked tired, not from lack of sleep, but from the kind of emotional exhaustion that clings to you like wet clothes.

Beth didn’t say a word.

“Hey,” Maggie whispered, voice breaking. “Can I…?” Beth opened the door wider without realizing she was doing it, and Maggie stepped inside like she was walking into a church, slow, and careful; her boots barely made a sound on the floor. “I…I didn’t know if you’d wanna see me,” Maggie started. “I ain’t here to fight, and I ain’t gonna try and defend what I said. I came to tell you I was wrong. I shouldn’t’ve said what I did. Not like that, not in front of everyone.”

Beth’s throat tightened. “You said a lot.”

“I know, I…I kept thinking about Lori,” Maggie admitted, voice breaking a little. “And daddy, what would he say if he knew? Would he be proud? Would he be scared for you? I let all of that twist into something mean.”

Pain flickered in Beth’s eyes, and she swallowed. “Daddy wouldn’t’ve yelled at me in front of everyone.”

Maggie winced. “No, he wouldn’t have.” She inhaled a steadying breath through her nose. “The truth is, he’d love that baby, and he’d be proud of you. If he’d have been ashamed of anyone it would’ve been me for coming at you like that. I didn’t mean it, any of it—I was just so scared to lose you again, Beth. I kept thinking about how fast we lost Lori, how no one really had the chance to say goodbye and when I heard about the baby I thought that meant you were next—” She broke off, tears glinting in her eyes. “I couldn’t lose you again, Beth. Not after what happened at the prison, not after I already thought you were dead.”

Beth folded her arms tightly over her chest. “You didn’t even look for me.”

“I know.” Maggie’s voice turned ragged. “I didn’t. I told myself I had to focus on surviving. That there wasn’t time. But it wasn’t that. I gave up, I gave up on you, and I’ll regret that every day for the rest of my life.”

Beth’s eyes shimmered. “I thought about you every day I was in that hospital, every single one. I told them I had a sister out there, and she was looking for me.” Her voice cracked. “You weren’t, Maggie. You didn’t even try, you lied to me.”

Maggie stepped closer but didn’t touch her. “I don’t have an excuse. I just have the truth. And the truth is, I was scared I wouldn’t find you, and scared that I would and you’d be dead, so I ran from it. When Eugene said what he said I snapped because it hit me all at once how much I didn’t know, and how far apart we’ve grown. I thought I was protecting you all this time but I wasn’t, I was just lashing out.” Beth looked down, her jaw tight. “I shouldn’t’ve brought up Daddy,” Maggie went on. “And I sure as hell shouldn’t’ve compared you to Lori. That was cruel.”

Beth swallowed hard. Her voice, when it came, was quiet. “It was.”

“I was scared of losing you again,” Maggie whispered. “And that doesn’t justify any of it. Especially not what I said about Daryl.”

Silence filled the room. Thick with everything unspoken. And then Beth said quietly, “I love him, Maggie.”

“I know you do.”

“He’s been the one constant in my life since the prison fell, and he’s the one who made me feel safe again. He’s never once walked away from me, not when I froze up, not when I screamed in my sleep, and not when I told him I was pregnant and couldn’t get the words out right.” Beth’s gaze lifted then, shimmering but firm. “I broke down that night. I was sobbing so hard I could barely breathe, and you know what he did? He pulled me into his arms, held me, and told me he wasn’t running.” Beth sniffled and wiped at her own face. “He’s good to me, better than I thought I’d ever have in this world. He didn’t just…fill the space left by Daddy or anyone else, and I don’t love him because he saved me or because we survived through hell together. I love him because he sees me, really sees me, and never once has he made me feel like I was too much or not enough.” 

“I know,” Maggie whispered, her bottom lip quivering. “I know that now.”

“He’s not perfect,” Beth added. “But he’s trying and he loves me fully, and honestly. I’m not some kid who got knocked up,” she said, the edge in her voice fading into something fragile. “I’m a woman now and I chose this, I chose him.”

Maggie’s eyes were rapidly filling with tears now, her facade of strength crumbling. “I was wrong. I was so wrong, Beth. About him, about you, about everything. I’m so sorry, Bethy. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Beth sniffed and gave a small, watery laugh. “Well, too late for that.” Maggie looked devastated at that moment, but then Beth reached out, slowly, and took hold of both of Maggie’s hands. Maggie’s fingers tightened instinctively around Beth’s as the silence stretched, raw and fragile between them. Her breath hitched, and for a long moment she didn’t dare speak, terrified that the weight of everything she’d said and done might still tear the last thread between them apart. But then Beth looked at her with eyes still glassy, but softer now, touched with something like weary love. “You’re my sister, Maggie,” Beth said, voice rough. “And nothin’, nothin’, is ever gonna change that.” Maggie’s chin trembled as her eyes welled over and Beth gave a shaky little smile through her tears. “Daddy wouldn’t want us fightin’. He’d want us to stick together, to be there for each other through the worst of it. And I want my baby to have everybody. To know their family. All of it. That means you too.”

Maggie let out a breath that cracked on its way out, then folded forward and hugged Beth, tight and trembling, their foreheads bumping as they both cried quietly. No more yelling, no more accusations. Just grief, and love, and something finally starting to heal.

______________________________________________________________

The smell of blood and pine needles clung thick to the air behind the house. A tarp was laid out in the patch of shade by the fence, and Daryl knelt at its edge, hands steady and practiced as he worked the blade under the hide of a doe he’d brought down that morning. The scrape of knife against bone, the soft tear of skin, the buzz of a few early flies, none of it bothered him. It was clean work, honest work, and easier to focus on than everything else. When he heard the footsteps behind him, he didn’t even need to look up to see who it was, he could tell from the sound. It was too light to be Rick or Abraham, too slow to be Carol. The hesitation in the approach was what gave her away. “Maggie.”

Maggie stopped a few feet behind him, waiting, maybe hoping he’d turn around first but he didn’t, so she spoke. “I owe you an apology.”

Daryl grunted but kept working, jaw tight. “Damn right you do.”

Maggie winced, folding her arms across her chest. “I talked to Beth.”


Now, that got him to pause. Daryl set the knife down on the edge of the tarp, wiped his hands off on a rag, but he still didn’t turn around. “Yeah?”

“She forgave me.” Her voice cracked. “I’m not sure I deserved it.”

“You don’t.” His reply came flat, before it softened just a bit at the end. “But that’s Beth.”

Maggie nodded, taking the hit. “She’s always been better at that than I am.”

The silence stretched again, until finally, Daryl turned to her fully, his expression unreadable but taut. “You said a lotta things,” he said. “’Bout me, bout her, things I don’t forget real easy.” Maggie opened her mouth, then shut it, guilt settling like a stone in her throat. “You think I ain’t good enough for her,” He went on, voice steady but low. “Ain’t gonna argue with you on that. Never been good for much, wasn’t raised to be, but that girl…” His voice faltered, just a little. “I love her, and I ain’t leavin’, not her, not that kid, I’m all in, even if you can’t stand the idea. And I sure as hell ain’t gonna let anybody hurt her again, not even you.”

Maggie flinched, visibly moved. “I don’t think that anymore,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I did, but I was wrong, about you, about what she needs.” Daryl’s eyes narrowed slightly, not with anger, but with guarded weariness, waiting to see if she meant it. She continued. “Beth told me what you did for her, that you held her when she was scared.”

“Ain’t nothin’ special about that, she’s my girl.”

“I know,” Maggie said quietly. “I was scared, and I handled it wrong, Daryl. I thought I was gonna lose her again, and I panicked. That’s no excuse, I know that. And I shouldn’t’ve said what I said about you, or about Dad, or Lori. She loves you, and you love her, I see it now. And I’m sorry it took me so long to understand that you’re good for her, that she’s safe with you.”

He studied her, jaw still tight, but the fire behind his eyes had cooled. “You broke her heart,” he said, low. “I had to watch her put the pieces back together on her own. I ain’t forgettin’ that.” Maggie didn’t try to excuse herself. She just nodded, tears welling up again. “But,” Daryl continued, “I know she wants you back, so I ain’t gonna stand in the way. Not if you’re gonna show up for her the right way.”

“I will,” Maggie promised. “I swear.”

He gave a short, gruff nod, and turned back to the deer. “Just don’t ever talk to her like that again. 'Cause next time, I ain't holdin' back.”

She looked him in the eye, no defiance, just sincerity, and a flicker of guilt still hanging on. “You won’t have to, I don’t expect you to forget it. But I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure I never give you a reason to remind me.”

A long pause passed between them, fraught, but not angry. Then he gestured toward the carcass with a bloodied hand. “You wanna make yourself useful, grab the bucket for the offal.” Maggie blinked. Then, surprisingly, she huffed a quiet laugh and moved to grab the bucket.

Chapter 49

It had been nearly a month since the potluck exploded into something resembling a small-town scandal. Since then, the air in Alexandria had settled into something quieter, if not fully calm, then at least breathable again. They still got looks. Not from everyone, but enough that it was noticeable. Some of the longer-term Alexandrians, people like Tobin or Francine, had started making small talk again, cautiously testing the waters. Others stayed on their porches, eyes trailing the group like they were waiting for them to go feral. But fences were being mended, slowly and quietly, in ways that didn't need declarations. Glenn and Tara were out on runs more often than not, usually returning dusty and joking with one another like they were trying to keep the world from cracking underfoot. Noah sometimes joined them, but he’d taken to helping Reg more frequently, assisting with map making and planning out possible expansions along the northern edge of the wall. His limp didn’t slow him down when it came to sketching foundations or measuring out new homes, and Reg had quickly come to trust him. Abraham had become a fixture on the construction crew after an unexpected brush with a stray group of walkers on a perimeter job. He’d saved three Alexandrians without hesitation, dragging one man over his shoulder and grumbling the whole way back. Since then, he walked around with a tool belt like it was a badge of honor, and no one questioned his place anymore. Sasha still rarely came down from the watchtower, she kept her rifle polished and her gaze sharp, always scanning the horizon. She didn’t talk much, but she was present, and that counted for something. Gabriel, on the other hand, had grown distant. He didn’t come around often anymore, and Beth had noticed, even when she offered gentle invitations he declined with mumbled thanks and distant eyes. Worry tugged at her whenever she passed by him. Rick had settled into his constable role with a newfound awareness. He walked the streets now with a slower step, less like a man on the edge of war and more like someone trying to hold a line. Michonne walked beside him most days, her presence calm. She served as his anchor, his compass, and sometimes, his counterbalance. When Rick bristled at a request from Deanna, Michonne listened first. When Rick’s voice rose too quickly, hers followed just after, low and measured. She wasn’t afraid to call him out, and Rick, once unwilling to yield to anyone, had started listening. Together, they’d brought order to the streets without bloodshed. For now, at least. 

And Daryl Daryl had been doggedly working on the bike. It had taken nearly the whole month to piece back together. He worked on it in fits and starts, grumbling at stripped bolts and rusted parts, sometimes disappearing into the garage for hours with grease up to his elbows. And then, one late afternoon, just as the sun dipped low and the light turned gold across the backyard, he hit the ignition, and the engine growled to life.
 

Not a cough, not a whine, a full-bodied, throaty purr that rattled through the bones.

Daryl froze for half a second, like he couldn’t believe it, then he let out a soft, triumphant “Heh,” under his breath and rested a hand on the warm frame like it was a loyal dog that had come back from the dead.

From the porch, a voice lit up. “Daryl!” He turned, just in time to see Beth bounding down the steps barefoot, the braid in her ponytail bouncing against her shoulder, a smile stretching across her face so bright it nearly knocked the breath out of him. “You got it working!” she beamed, stopping just shy of throwing her arms around him. “Daryl, you did it!”

Daryl rubbed the back of his neck, a little sheepish. “Reckon I did.”

“I knew you could get her runnin’ again,” Beth said, her voice light and glowing with that kind of warmth that always found a way past his armor. “I told you.”

Daryl wiped his hands on an old rag, his ears tinged red. “Weren’t nothin’,” he muttered, though the satisfaction in his voice gave him away.

“You thinkin’ about takin’ her out?” she asked, nodding toward the bike.

“Maybe,” he admitted. “Just around the inside of the walls. Nothin’ crazy.”

Beth’s eyes lit up like a campfire catching flame. “Can I come?”

Daryl blinked, visibly hesitating. His gaze flicked to her stomach and back again. “I dunno, Beth. Ain’t exactly a smooth ride, ain’t like it’s got seat belts or—”

Beth stepped closer, lifting both hands to rest lightly on his chest. “Please?” Just around the block?” She cut him off with a flutter of her lashes and the softest pout. “I’ll hold on real tight,” she said sweetly, tilting her head and batting her eyes at him, innocent as lamb and as sweet as sugar.

He scowled down at her, but she wasn’t fazed, she just kept batting her lashes up at him, the same way she always did when she wanted something, the same damn look that always worked. Daryl swallowed, she could see the fight in him start to ease. “Don’t give me that look,” he muttered.

“What look?” she asked, feigning innocence, the corners of her mouth twitching.

“That one, the one that gets me doin’ shit I probably shouldn’t.”

She giggled and leaned up on her toes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “So is it workin’?”

He looked at her for a long moment. His gut said no—because if anything happened, if she slipped, if she got jostled wrong…But she looked so excited, practically glowing with the pure want to share this with him. And against all his better judgment, the part of him that needed to see her smile again won out. He let out a long breath through his nose and grumbled, “Alright, but the second it feels weird, we’re done. Got it?” Beth smiled wide, pressing a kiss to his jaw before moving to grab his jacket and swing it over her shoulders like a makeshift riding coat. Daryl helped her with care, letting her swing her leg over the back with his hands steady on her hips, double-checking the seat, the foot pegs, everything twice over. His arm hovered like he was still expecting her to change her mind. But she didn’t. She just wrapped her arms around his middle and rested her chin against his shoulder, calm and trusting. “Hold on,” he told her, voice low.

“I always do!”

The bike roared to life again and rumbled forward. The wind caught Beth’s braid, whipping it behind her like a ribbon as they coasted slowly down the street. The ride was short, just to the edge of the main gate and back, and during it she laughed, that airy, melodic laugh he’d memorized like a prayer, and Daryl felt his chest crack open just a little wider. When they pulled back into the drive, she was glowing. “That was amazing,” she said breathlessly, holding his face in both hands before leaning in to kiss him, long and sweet.

Daryl glanced toward the sidewalk where Aaron had just emerged from around the corner, hands on his hips and a wide grin across his face. “Would ya listen to that!” Aaron called. “She’s got a voice again!” Daryl gave a small, proud smirk, and Beth waved cheerfully at Aaron.

Then came Rick, ambling up behind Aaron with a faint smile and a tilt of his head. “Too loud,” he called out to them. “Between that and the piano I ought to write you a noise citation.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “You wanna try, sheriff?”

Beth leaned forward, grinning ear to ear. “Can you outrun him?”

“I can, but I ain’t sure about you slowin’ me down,” Daryl deadpanned, glancing back.

“Rude,” she said, swatting lightly at his ribs.

Rick held the smirk another beat before shrugging. “Guess I’ll let it slide this time. Just don’t go revvin’ it at two in the morning.” He shook his head, amused.

As Rick and Aaron wandered off, Beth laced her fingers through his. “Thank you for takin’ me,” she said gently.

Daryl squeezed her hand. “Ain’t never sayin’ no to you again, am I?”

Beth leaned into him, smiling. “Not if you know what’s good for you.”

For a while after that, it really did seem like things were settling, but it didn’t stay that way.

It started small.

A flicker, a dimming light bulb, the soft whir of the fridge cutting out mid-hum.

Then it happened again, and again.

By the end of the week, the solar panels were feeding power in patches. Lights would flicker and buzz like they were gasping for breath, showers went cold halfway through, and entire blocks would go dark for hours. Beth paused in the middle of folding blankets, eyes lifting to the soft hum of the overhead lights. The flicker wasn’t long, barely two seconds, but it was the third time today. Her fingers tightened slightly on the edges of the fabric before she forced herself to breathe and finish the fold. Denise, at the far end of the makeshift infirmary house, didn’t seem to notice. She was busy charting inventory, her pen tapping idly against the clipboard, and Pete hadn’t even come in today. Beth tucked the gauze into a drawer and turned to check the antiseptics when the front door creaked open, and she looked up to see who it was. “Noah,” she greeted with a smile, brushing her hands on her pants. “What brings you in?”

He stepped inside with that tired but familiar smile of his, his backpack slung over one shoulder. “Hey, Beth! I just need a first aid kit.”

Beth’s brow furrowed. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s not for me.” He walked up to the counter, drumming his fingers lightly. “Aaron marked a spot on the map, an old warehouse he thinks might have parts to fix the solar panels. Power keeps going out, so Aiden wants to move fast on it.”

Beth’s frown deepened. “You’re goin’ out there?”

He nodded. “Tomorrow morning. Glenn, Tara, Nicholas…and me.” His mouth twitched slightly before he added, “Aiden’s insisting we bring Eugene along, too.”

Beth paused, hand halfway to the supply cabinet. “Eugene?” she echoed, disbelief in her voice. “That doesn’t sound right. He’s not…that ain’t what he does.”

Noah shrugged, voice dropping. “I said the same, but Aiden’s not listening. He says Eugene’s the only one who might know what the hell he’s lookin’ at and figured he’d be more useful on the ground than sittin’ around back here.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s right. Eugene’s not ready for that kind of run, you know that, he panics. And Aiden, you know Glenn says he doesn’t make the best decisions.”

Noah let out a soft breath. “Believe me, I know.”

Beth stood up, then stepped around the counter and looked up at him more directly. “And you,” she added gently, “you’re still limpin’. You’ve been hidin’ it well, but I’ve seen how stiff you get when you move too fast.”

He tensed slightly, shifting his weight. “It’s fine.”

“Noah…” she said, not unkindly.

“I can handle it.” His voice wasn’t defensive, but there was something raw in it, something quietly bruised. “I have to start holdin’ my own. Everyone else is out there doin’ what they can, takin’ risks. I can’t keep sittin’ in safe rooms just because my leg aches.”

Beth softened, her expression aching. “You don’t have to prove anything, Noah. Not to me, and not to anyone.”

He looked down, voice low. “I just wanna pull my weight. Show Glenn he was right to trust me. You too, Daryl, everyone who didn’t leave me behind.”

Beth reached for the cabinet and pulled out a fresh first aid kit. She held it out to him with a small nod. “You already do,” she said quietly. He took it with a faint, grateful smile, his hand brushing hers. “What time are you leavin’?” she asked.

“First light,” Noah replied.

Beth watched him tuck the kit into his pack, her chest tight with the same quiet dread she always felt when someone she cared about stepped past the walls. Noah had a quiet strength, but the world didn’t always give strength a chance. He turned to the door, hesitating with one hand on the frame. “Tell Daryl I said hey.”

Beth offered a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I will.”

The door shut behind him with a soft click, and after a few moments passed, the lights flickered again.

Later, the scent of fresh earth clung to the evening breeze, mingling with the sharper tang of blood as Daryl worked silently over the rabbit carcass. Beth sat nearby on the porch swing, her legs curled beneath a faded blanket, the late light brushing over her face and the soft curve of her growing belly. Four months now—enough that Daryl noticed the changes in everything she did. The way she sat, the way she moved. The way she paused more often before speaking, as though the world pressed heavier on her now than it used to. She watched him work in silence for a while, listening to the wet scrape of his knife through muscle and sinew. Then her voice broke through gently. “Noah’s goin’ on a run tomorrow.”

He paused for only a moment, eyes flickering toward her before returning to the task. “That right?”

Beth nodded, arms tightening slightly over her belly. “Warehouse on the outskirts. Aaron found it on a map, he thinks it might have replacement parts for the solar panels. With the power flickerin’ the way it’s been, they want to check it out before things get worse.”

“Yeah,” Daryl muttered. “Been noticin’ that.” He sliced through a tendon, flicking the pelt aside and reaching for the next cut.

“He came by the infirmary,” she continued softly. “Asked for a med kit, he told me who all’s goin’. Glenn, Tara, Nicholas...and Aiden’s leadin’ it.” That made him grunt, low and unimpressed. She hesitated before adding, “And Aiden’s makin’ Eugene go.”

That made him look up, his eyes narrowed, and knife stilling against the meat. “Eugene?” he repeated flatly.

Beth gave a slow, concerned nod. “Said they don’t wanna come back with the wrong stuff, so Aiden insisted Eugene come along.”

Daryl scoffed, returning to his work with a little more force. The rabbit gave a wet squelch as muscle pulled clean from bone. “Eugene panics if he hears a damn leaf crunch the wrong way. Don’t matter how smart he is, he ain’t built for that kinda run.”

“I know,” Beth said, worry threading through her voice. “Noah tried to bring it up, said it wasn’t smart, that they should leave Eugene behind. But Aiden wouldn’t hear it, just brushed him off like he didn’t know what he was talkin’ about.”

“Figures, damn kid thinks he knows everything.”

Beth hesitated, then added, “I’m worried about Noah too. His leg’s been actin’ up again—he doesn’t say anything, but I’ve seen it.. It's stiff when he moves too fast, he hides it well, but it’s still there. I tried to talk to him about it but he wants to do his part, he said he owes it to us.”

“He don’t owe nobody nothin’,” Daryl said, his tone rough but steady. “He already proved himself when he went back to Grady to help get you out.”

Beth smiled faintly at that, even as her thumb absently traced a slow circle over the side of her belly. “That’s what I told him. He’s brave, Daryl and he’s already done so much, even if he doesn’t see it.”

Daryl set the rabbit aside and wiped his hands on a rag, his movements slowing. Then he stood, moving to the porch railing just beside her. He didn’t sit, not right away. Instead, he looked out at the darkening street, where the soft flickers of porch lights struggled to stay steady against the failing power grid. “Noah’ll be alright,” he said at last. “That leg slows him, yeah. But he’s smart, and careful. Glenn’ll keep an eye on him.” Beth looked up at him, uncertainty tugging at her features. Daryl finally turned, and without a word, dropped down beside her on the swing. The wood groaned softly beneath their weight. His hand brushed against hers, rough knuckles grazing her fingers. She let her palm open and his calloused hand slid into hers. “He’ll be alright,” he said again, quieter now. “It’s Aiden and Nicholas I don’t trust. They couldn’t lead a dog to dinner, let alone a supply run.” He paused for a moment, adding in a low mutter. “Still don’t like Eugene goin’,”

Beth let out a tired laugh, pressing her head to his shoulder. “Yeah, me neither.”

They sat in silence for a long moment, the swing swaying gently with their weight. Daryl’s eyes drifted to her stomach, to the soft, steady shape that grounded every breath, and every worry. He never said it out loud, but every time someone left the walls now, it felt personal. Like the world might take something from him again. Daryl shifted, brushing his lips against the crown of her head. “I’ll keep an eye on the gate tomorrow,” he murmured. “Won’t let ‘em go out blind.”

Beth closed her eyes and nodded against him. “Thank you,” she whispered.

___________________________________________________________

The morning light crept across the Alexandria streets, warm and soft, the quiet broken only by the low rumble of the van idling and the occasional scuff of boots on pavement. Glenn stood beside the vehicle, checking their gear one last time while Aiden talked loudly over him, rattling off half-jokes and half-serious instructions. Nicholas leaned against the back bumper, arms crossed, looking like he had something better to do. Eugene stood a few feet away, visibly uncomfortable. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. Tara leaned against the back passenger-side door, nudging Eugene with her elbow. “You ready, big guy?”

Eugene crossed his arms. “I remain confident in your collective aptitude to procure the necessary equipment in my absence. Transformer units of this style are standardized and therefore interchangeable across multiple grid models.”

We good on everything?” Glenn asked, flipping a page.

“Far as I know,” Aiden replied, slapping a hand against the side of the van. “Unless Brain Trust over here forgot his binky.” He nodded toward Eugene, 

“I maintain,” Eugene began, “that this particular retrieval mission does not require my participation. The electrical components we are seeking are—”

“Identical regardless of manufacturer, I know,” Glenn finished for him, not unkindly.

“Then there is no necessity for my presence,” Eugene insisted, already taking half a step backward.

Aiden scoffed as he adjusted his vest. “We’re not driving all that way just to come back with the wrong shit because you chickened out, man up.” That earned him a narrowed look from Beth, who stood with Maggie and Deanna a few feet away. Her gaze flicked to Eugene, resting on him with subtle encouragement.

Noah stepped up next to Eugene, the younger man gave him a small smile, trying to ease the tension. “Here,” he said, gently handing over a handgun. “Just in case, you don’t have to use it, but…just keep it on you.”

Eugene hesitated, blinking at it like it might explode in his hands. “I possess a low aptitude for coordination under duress,” he said, his voice lacking conviction.

“You’ll be fine,” Noah said gently. “Just keep it holstered. You got this.”

Eugene swallowed before taking the weapon gingerly, like it might bite him. Nicholas scoffed. “Yeah, maybe point it the right way this time. Hope he doesn’t end up shooting one of us.”

Beth shot Nicholas a look. “Try not to give him a reason to.” Nicholas rolled his eyes at her but didn’t reply.

Aiden approached his parents as he slung his rifle over his back, and Deanna stepped forward, her arms crossed lightly. “You all set?” she asked.

“Yep,” Aiden said, brushing his hands together. “First aid kit, yellow pages, Glenn’s checklist. We’re golden.”

“You sure you’re not forgetting anything?” Reg asked from beside Deanna, concern etched into his face.

“Dad, we got it. I swear.”

“I know,” Reg replied, smiling faintly. “Just being a worrier. It’s what dads do.”

“And your mom’s a hugger,” Deanna added, pulling him in and kissing his cheek. “Be safe. I love you.”

“Love you too,” Aiden said, slightly embarrassed but touched all the same.

Meanwhile, near the back of the van, Beth had found her moment. Tara was checking the tension on her shoulder strap while Noah adjusted his rifle sling. Beth walked over, her expression a careful mix of warmth and restraint. “Y’all ready?”

“As we’ll ever be.” Tara said with a crooked grin.

Beth stepped up to Noah, hands on her hips with the best serious expression she could muster. “You come back alive, you hear me?” she said, voice only half-joking.

“I promise,” he said with a grin. “I’ll even bring you a lollipop to help with the cravings, the blue kind. I’ll raid every gas station from here to our stop if I gotta, promise.”

“You better. This baby’s not gonna forgive you if you come back with grape.”

Tara slung an arm around Beth’s shoulders for a brief moment, giving her a squeeze. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ve got an excellent track record of dragging idiots home alive.”

“That she does,” Glenn muttered from nearby as he came over, offering Beth a nod before his eyes turned toward Maggie, who stepped up to gently fix his collar. “You’ve got this,” she said, voice low. “Just like always.”

Glenn looked at her, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “Yeah,” but his eyes didn’t ease. “It’s not our people I’m worried about out there.”

Maggie followed his gaze to Aiden pacing with exaggerated confidence, to Nicholas making sure his gun was loaded with more flair than care. “I know,” she said, voice low.

“Besides!” Tara chirped out. “This one has a hot date with Holly to get home to.” She nodded at Noah

Noah nearly choked on air. “Tara—!”

Beth’s brows shot up. “Holly?”

Tara kept her tone innocent. “Yeah, remember? The one who brought him cookies last week? Pretty sure oatmeal raisin means she’s serious.”

Noah’s ears went red in an instant. “Tara—c’mon.”

“You got a girlfriend, Noah?” Beth asked, nudging him with her elbow.

Noah’s face flushed. “What—? No. I mean—she just—”

Tara grinned, absolutely not stopping. “I’m just sayin’, if he doesn’t come back, that poor girl’s gonna be real disappointed.”

He groaned. “Oh my God. Please stop.”

Beth nudged him gently with her elbow. “You got a lotta folks rootin’ for you now. Better not let us down.”

Noah sighed, laughing in spite of himself. “Y’all are the worst.”

Tara was still grinning when Aiden called out. “Alright, let’s go!” he barked, clapping his hands once. “We’re burnin’ daylight.” He didn’t wait for a response before swinging into the driver’s seat, slamming the door harder than necessary. Nicholas climbed in beside him, while Glenn circled around to the passenger side, jaw tight, eyes scanning the gear one last time as Eugene reluctantly climbed inside.

“Showtime,” Tara muttered, shouldering her bag. She gave Beth a quick, two-fingered salute before heading toward the van. Noah gave Beth a sheepish smile, then hurried after her, eager to escape further teasing.

The doors clanged shut, the engine coughed to life, and the van rolled forward with a groan of tires over gravel. Noah leaned out of the open window, bracing one arm against the frame, wind tugging at his jacket. He spotted Beth instantly and grinned wide, warm, boyish, and a little bashful but proud underneath it all. He waved, exaggerated and playful. “I’ll find that lollipop!” he called.

Beth smiled back, lifting her hand slowly and her fingers fluttering in return. “Good luck!” she stood there with Maggie, Deanna and Reg until the van drove out of view, heading towards the gate.

Noah had promised her a lollipop, she hoped he kept that promise.

Chapter 50

Notes:

We're back on track with following the events of the season, folks!

The sun had climbed higher than Beth realized. She only noticed when the shadows shifted past the infirmary windows, long slants of light reaching across the floor, too bright for morning, too early for relief. She stood behind the counter, pretending to tidy up a supply drawer she’d already gone through twice. The gauze was in perfect order. Alcohol wipes stacked. Not a single bandage out of place.

Still, she rearranged them again.

Denise had stepped out to check on something with Reg at the workshop, and Pete had left a bit ago on a house call, leaving the place quiet save for the occasional creak of the walls or the far-off clatter of someone unloading crates at the armory. She glanced at the clock for the fourth time in ten minutes.

They should’ve been a couple hours out by now. Maybe halfway there. Maybe just arriving. Maybe—

Beth shut the drawer with a little more force than needed and exhaled through her nose. She walked to the window and looked out across the street. A few Alexandrians moved about, some were talking and others were tending to porch plants. She spotted Maggie speaking with Olivia near the pantry and Carol walking by on the far side of the road, her gaze flicking up to Beth’s window just for a moment. Beth offered a small wave, and Carol nodded once, then kept moving. With a heavy sigh, she turned from the window and wandered into the back room, just as she was about to reach for a bottle of antiseptic to check it she heard the door creak open.

Jessie Anderson stood in the doorway, her shoulders hunched and a tired smile plastered on her face. Her hair was tied back hastily, and she wore a long-sleeved shirt despite the rising summer warmth. She clutched an empty ice pack loosely in one hand.“Hey, Beth,” Jessie said breezily, stepping inside. “Sorry to drop in without Pete. I just, uh, I was looking for some more ice. I dropped a can on my face like an idiot.”

Beth blinked, making her way back from the hallway. “Oh, sure. There might still be some in the cooler.”

Jessie gave a quick nod and crossed the room. As she bent to open the cooler, the light from the window caught her cheekbone, and Beth’s heart skipped.  A bruise bloomed on her flesh. Faint, fresh, and swollen, just above the bone. Not quite the color or shape of a canned food mishap. 

Beth tried to swallow the rising unease. “You alright?” she asked quietly, careful not to sound too pointed.

Jessie popped back up with the ice pack now full, holding it to her face. Her smile tightened, like she’d been practicing it in the mirror. “Yeah, really. I’m just clumsy..” Beth said nothing at first, letting the silence stretch just enough. Jessie met her eyes, then looked away, shifting on her feet. “It’s nothing,” she said again, gentler this time. “Really, I’ve just been tired lately. Stress, y’know?” Beth nodded slowly, but her chest felt too tight. She didn’t know what to say, not without accusing, not without proof. And she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but something about Jessie’s quick excuse, the glance toward the door, the way she avoided meeting her eyes, it all made Beth feel like the ground beneath them wasn’t solid. Jessie must’ve sensed the tension, because she gave a light chuckle and said, “You’re sweet to worry. I’ll be fine, I just need to stop being so careless.”

Beth forced a thin smile and nodded. “Okay, just…let me know if you need anything.”

Jessie hesitated like she might say more, but then she didn’t. She just offered a quiet “Thanks,” and slipped out the door, ice pressed against her cheek.  

The door clicked shut behind her, and Beth stood there alone in the quiet again. The feeling in her gut didn’t go away. In fact, it sank lower.  

Something wasn’t right, and though she couldn’t prove it yet, Beth knew that whatever was going on, it wasn’t “nothing.”

___________________________________________________________________

Later that evening, Beth’s voice drifted gently across the porch of Maggie and Glenn’s home, soft as the breeze stirring through the leaves. She sat cross-legged in the slanting light, coaxing a melody from the small, bright pink plastic keyboard. The keys clacked with tinny charm, a few sticking if she didn’t hit them just right, and the occasional blip from the “COW NOISE” button made her smile.

Still, it worked. And more than that it helped keep her mind off of things.

Her fingers moved carefully across the scuffed keys, drawing out an old hymn her mama used to hum. The heart shaped speaker warbled the notes with toy-store sweetness and her voice wrapped around the melody, warm and low.

“You keep playing like that,” Maggie said with a smirk, leaning against the porch rail, “and people are gonna think we’re civilized again.”

Beth didn’t look up, she just let a soft smile curve her mouth. “Maybe we are. A little.” She brushed a bit of hair from her face and switched to a livelier tune, one that made the ridiculous keyboard trill like it was proud of itself. 

For a fleeting moment, things almost felt normal.

Almost.

Then a shout split the air.

“Help! Somebody—HELP!”

Beth’s fingers froze on the keys. Maggie exchanged a quick glance with Beth as the blonde scrambled to her feet. Others began rushing from nearby houses, all moving toward the front gate.

The van had just pulled in from the warehouse run. It skidded to a stop in the middle of the road, the back door flinging open violently. Glenn stumbled out, blood smeared across his face and hands. His chest heaved as he looked around in a panic. “TARA!” he yelled. “She’s hurt. Someone get her to the infirmary! NOW!”

Beth’s heart stopped. She could see Eugene climbing out of the front, shaking, eyes wide and vacant. Nicholas hovered near the van like a ghost, his face drained of all color. Maggie was already running, and Beth sprinted after her. They reached the van just as Rosita and a few others came running with a stretcher. Tara lay crumpled inside, unconscious, her head wrapped in a makeshift bandage, blood soaking through. “Oh God,” Maggie breathed. Glenn stepped back from the side of the van, his hands covered in blood, his eyes fixed on the ground like he couldn’t bear to lift them. “Glenn,” Maggie said urgently, reaching out to grab his arm. “What happened? What the hell happened?”

He didn’t speak right away, his breath shuddering in his chest. “There was...a walker,” he started. “It—it had a grenade on it, and Aiden shot it. It exploded.” He looked at her then, wild-eyed and sick. “Tara got knocked out. Eugene—he got her out and took her to the van. We—we tried to go back for Aiden but—” He shook his head. “We couldn’t get him out, he was stuck.”

Maggie’s face twisted in grief and horror, but she steadied Glenn, keeping a hand on his shoulder as he tried to get the words out. “Okay. Okay, Glenn. Just breathe, you're here. Eugene got Tara out. But—” Her voice faltered as her eyes dropped to the blood streaked across Glenn’s arm.

Beth’s heart was already in her throat when Glenn swayed a little on his feet. “Noah,” he choked.

That name made the world tilt.

Beth’s hands clenched at her sides. “What?” Her voice was almost a whisper. “What about Noah?” Her gaze swept over the van and the people gathered. It was then that she noticed his absence. He should’ve been right behind Eugene, he should’ve been the one helping carry Tara out. He should’ve been here. Glenn didn’t look at her, nor did he speak. Beth stepped closer, eyes searching his face. “Glenn. Where is he? Where’s Noah?”

Glenn didn’t answer. His eyes were locked on Tara as they gently lifted her out and rushed toward the infirmary.

“Glenn,” Maggie asked again, her voice tighter now. “Where is he?”

Glenn opened his mouth, but all that came out was a strangled breath. “I—I’m sorry.” His shoulders shook. His eyes were distant, broken.

Beth’s blood ran cold. “No,” she said. “No—don’t say that.
”

“He—he should’ve made it. He—” Glenn’s voice cracked. “He was right there.”

He was right there.

Beth didn’t cry, not yet. She just stood there, rooted to the ground, as if her body wouldn’t let her move, wouldn’t let her feel it all at once. She could still hear the birds, the wind through the trees, and the shouting in the distance. It all sounded so far away now as the world began to slow. She swore that any minute her knees would give out.

But they never did.

________________________________________________________________

 

The shutters rattled slightly as the wind picked up outside. The house was too quiet. Beth sat on the bottom step of the staircase, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. The soft hum of Alexandria at night sounded too normal, too whole.

Noah was gone.

She hadn’t cried when Glenn whispered the news with red eyes. She hadn’t cried when Eugene, of all people, muttered something shaky and half-eulogized through stunned lips. But now, hours later, it was finally settling in.

Killed. Torn apart by walkers, in front of Glenn.

The words wouldn’t leave her head. Over and over again like static. 

Torn apart in a revolving door.

Trapped.

Beth’s throat tightened, fingers curling reflexively into the fabric of her shirt. When she was bruised and lonely, he sat with her in the supply closet and shared stories about dumb little things he used to get up to with his brother. He snuck her extra crackers when her stomach growled, while she lied to Dawn to buy him a few more hours of rest. They whispered in corners, made plans they knew were suicidal but clung to anyway. Hope was a fragile thing, and they passed it between each other like a note folded in half.

“We’re gonna get outta here,” he’d said one night, his voice quiet but sure. “I got your back. You’ll see.”

And he had.

He was the one who’d told Carol and Daryl where she was. He chose to come back when it would’ve been easier to run, because he was like that, caring and brave even to his own detriment. She remembered the first time they stood on the house’s porch together, both blinking against the too-clean air and too-white paint, both wondering if it was even real. He elbowed her gently and said something like, “Think they’ll have a pizza place?” and she snorted. He was the one who sat with her and Tara on slow days, making sarcastic commentary about their neighbors. She remembered his smile, and the way he always tried to carry the heavier packs despite his limp. Beth heard Maggie pacing in the kitchen behind her, boots scraping softly across the tile.

“They should’ve come back in by now,” Maggie muttered. “What could they possibly be talking about out there for this long?” Beth didn’t respond. She wasn’t sure she could speak without her voice cracking. Maggie sighed, rubbing her eyes. “Nicholas is lying, I can feel it. Glenn wouldn’t let—” She stopped herself, biting the rest of the sentence. 

Wouldn’t let Noah die.

Beth knew what she meant. 

She remembered how he looked earlier that morning. Smiling, hopeful, and still trying to prove himself to Glenn and the others. He had grinned, wide and easy, and promised to return with a lollipop, “The blue kind.” That had been the last time. She hadn’t even hugged him goodbye.

And now he was gone.

Tara had barely survived. She was still in the infirmary, unconscious. No one knew when she’d wake up and Beth couldn’t bring herself to step inside that room because she was scared Tara would slip away too.

And Nicholas…

He left them. Left Glenn and Noah to die, and now he was probably lying through his teeth.

Beth seethed, the grief sharpening into a jagged edge as she pressed her hands over her eyes, the tears too hot to stop now. 

Footsteps sounded behind her, slow and deliberate.

She didn’t turn to see who it was, she didn’t need to.

Beth felt him before she saw him, Daryl, coming down the steps and settling behind her, his legs spreading to either side of hers. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, his calloused hands finding the curve of her stomach first. His touch was soft and grounding. Beth leaned back against his chest, tears sliding down her cheeks and voice shaking. “He was my only friend in that place, the only one who was decent, who gave a damn. I never told him how much that meant.”

“He knew,” Daryl rasped. “You looked out fer each other.”

Beth sniffled hard, brushing at her face. “I keep thinkin’ how scared he must’ve been, Just knowin’ they were gonna close in on him.” Daryl didn’t flinch. He’d seen it too, probably, in his head, in the way Glenn told it. He rested his chin on her shoulder, head nuzzled against hers. Her hand reached up to touch his forearm, squeezing it lightly. “I keep thinkin’…I should’ve stopped him, told him not to go. Maybe he would’ve stayed.”

“You ain’t God, Beth,” Daryl said softly. “Ain’t on you to know when the world’s gonna turn cruel.”

Beth let his words sit with her a minute, before she whispered “I hate Nicholas, for what he did, for leavin’ them like that.”

Daryl’s voice was like gravel. “So do I.”

The front door opened and Maggie’s boots rushed toward the hallway just as Rick and Glenn stepped back inside. Glenn’s face was unreadable and Rick’s jaw was clenched. “We need to talk,” Rick said.

But Beth wasn’t listening anymore. She stayed pressed against Daryl, still steeped in the memory of the boy who once told her, “We’re gonna get outta here.”

And he did, but not for long, not as long as he deserved at least.

And Beth would carry that weight with her always.

______________________________________________________________

 

The door clicked shut behind him.

Inside, the house had gone still, Rick and Michonne spoke in low voices somewhere deeper in the hall and upstairs, Beth lay curled on her side with Maggie sitting next to her, motionless in the dark, her grief thick as smoke. Daryl didn’t expect her to sleep, he just hoped the quiet might soften the edge of it. He stepped out onto the porch and found Glenn already there, sitting on the top step, elbows braced against his knees, and hands clasped like he was praying—but his eyes weren’t focused on anything in front of him. They were glazed and haunted, watching something that wasn’t there anymore. Daryl didn’t say anything at first, he just walked over and sat down beside Glenn, a low grunt escaping him as he dropped into place. They both stared out at the stillness of Alexandria. Porch lights flickered down the street, wind whispered in the trees, and laughter drifted faintly from one of the houses, a cruel reminder of how easily life went on. Daryl tugged at the sleeve of his shirt, scratching at an old scar near his wrist. He didn’t look at Glenn when he spoke. “Wasn’t your fault.”

Glenn didn’t react at first, he just kept breathing slow and steady, almost mechanical. Then his jaw clenched, and his eyes blinked fast. “He said...don’t let go.”

Daryl’s gaze flicked toward him.

“That was the last thing he said to me,” Glenn murmured. “He was looking me dead in the eye, scared as hell. And that’s what he said—Don’t let go.” He swallowed hard, his throat moving like it hurt to speak. “I had his arm, Daryl. I had him.” The brief silence that passed between them grew taut. “And then—” Glenn’s voice cracked. “They pulled him. He was looking at me, and I couldn’t—” He stopped, shuddering at the memory. “They tore him apart, Daryl. I saw his face the whole time. He didn’t even fight, he just looked at me.”

Daryl drew in a slow breath. “Ain’t on you.”

“It feels like it is.”

“’Cause you give a damn. That ain’t the same.”

Glenn wiped at his eyes. “I promised I’d look out for him, told him that he was family, that he was safe. He trusted me and I let him—” His voice gave out again. “God, I let him go.”

“He was safe,” Daryl said. “'Till that bitch ran.”

Glenn swallowed hard, his jaw shaking “I begged Nicholas not to move, begged him to wait. He looked me in the eye and shoved his way through and it turned the whole damn door.” Glenn dug his fingers into his palms. “He was a kid, man. He was tryin’ to prove himself and now he’s gone, and Nicholas gets to breathe like nothin’ happened.”

Daryl looked away again, jaw flexing. “Ain’t gonna be nothin’ like nothin’ happened,” he muttered. “We know what he did, Rick knows, we’re gonna deal with it.”

Glenn rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his palms. “I just keep thinking—what if I’d pulled harder? What if I’d yelled sooner? What if I’d told Noah to stay behind—?”

“No.” Daryl’s tone cut sharp through the air. “Don’t you do that. Don’t you put his blood on your hands. You held on as long as you could. Ain’t your fault Nicholas is a goddamn coward.” They sat in the stillness together, the quiet thick and heavy between them.
“Beth’s takin’ it hard,” Daryl said, voice low. “She’s sleepin now, if you can call it that.”

“I couldn’t even tell her he didn’t suffer,” Glenn muttered. “Because he did.” Then, quieter this time, he asked. “Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?”


“There ain’t nothin to forgive, she knows that.” Daryl exhaled through his nose. 

“She won’t even come downstairs.”

“She’ll come back,” Daryl said, but it sounded more like hope than certainty. “She always does.”

Glenn didn’t answer. He just nodded once, like it hurt to do more and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. A beat of silence passed between them before he spoke up again, voice tinged with both sorrow and fondness. “He promised to bring her a lollipop before we left, blue raspberry. He said she deserved something sweet.”

Daryl closed his eyes and let out a huff that might’ve passed as the tail-end of a laugh to someone just passing by.

The memory of Noah hit him hard at that moment.

He thought of the way he’d grit his teeth and carry more than he should with his limp, trying to prove himself. The dumb little grin he’d flash when he cracked a joke, and how he’d watched Beth out of the corner of his eye sometimes, like he was still checking if she was okay, like he owed her that. Daryl thought of his wary eyes in that office building, the way his voice shook but didn’t falter when he begged them to help. He’d limped beside them the whole way, right back into Grady just to make sure Beth wasn’t forgotten.

He saved her, and in doing so he saved him.

“He helped us find her,” Daryl said after a pause. “Didn’t owe us nothin’, but he did it anyway. Stayed when he didn’t have to, came back when he coulda ran. If it weren’t for him, I might’ve never—” His throat caught, and he rubbed the heel of his palm hard over his mouth. “When we had her back…that bitch cop Dawn said we had to trade and it had to be Noah.” Glenn glanced at him, silent. “He just…nodded n’said he’d do it. No cryin’, no fightin’. Just…‘okay.’” Daryl’s mouth twisted. “He was gonna walk back into that hellhole for her, and I never thanked him.” His voice dropped then, gravel-soft and cracked. “Not really. Not for what he did, for what he gave me, I didn’t say shit.”

Glenn swallowed, visibly shaken. “He knew, Daryl.”

“Maybe,” Daryl muttered. “But I still should’ve said it.” They sat in the hush of it, grief looping between them in quiet, jagged threads. Then Daryl’s voice sharpened, steady but burning. You know what kinda person does that though? A better one than Nicholas’ll ever be,” he spat. “Fucker ran for his own skin like a damn roach, and now we’re down a man, a good man.”

Glenn’s breath hitched, and his shoulders slumped forward. “He didn’t deserve that, any of that.”

“No,” Daryl rasped. “He didn’t.” He exhaled hard and leaned back against the porch, looking up at the stars with a kind of exhausted rage. “You stayed, Glenn,” he spoke with an air of finality. “You didn’t let go, don’t you dare start actin’ like you did.” Glenn bowed his head, jaw clenched. And though he didn’t say it, Daryl knew what the silence meant. ‘Thank you.’ The porch creaked beneath them, and the grief sat between them, thick and suffocating, and in it Daryl promised himself that Nicholas wouldn’t walk away from this, not without looking him in the eye.

Not without remembering the face of the boy he left behind.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of When the Bullet Missed