Beneath Two Moons

by idyllicchaos

Summary:

Daryl Dixon spent his entire life fighting, never believing in anything but getting to the next day. Hope was lost to him, until his dreams showed him a different path.

Beth Greene was a world apart from the life she was supposed to live. It was only a matter of time before she was ripped away from the comforts of home and thrust into a world she barely recognized.

All in the name of a soul split beneath two moons, only piecing itself together by following the path mapped by the harp and the hunter. Under different skies, two mirror souls reflect their thoughts, feelings, and experiences into a seemingly empty void. Until death opens a path for connection.

Chapter 1: Orion's Belt

Notes:

Hello lovelies, guess who's back!?

I hope you all are doing well. I am so excited to be back in the Bethyl zeitgeist with a new story. This is something completely different than my past two stories. However, I am so excited for this journey. It's going to be a wild ride and I can't wait to hear what you all think. I'm posting this chapter early. So, the next one won't be out until the first Sunday of September.

If the tags are confusing, I completely understand. Trust me, you'll understand after reading this first chapter :)

All the love and I can't wait to dive into this journey with you all <3

If you're interested, I'm over on Tumblr where I'll be posting updates, fun story aesthetics, and playlists: @idyllicchaos

Orion’s Belt.

The three stars twinkled against the night sky, a beacon home. Alnitak, Alnilam, and Mintaka. The names came from Arabic roots, meaning the girdle, string of pearls, and the belt. Respectively. She dedicated countless hours under those stars and even more time studying their meanings. If Beth was to see them every night, they must mean something. Orion’s Belt was but part of a whole. However, they shined the brightest.

The hunter himself, Orion, blazed gloriously above her. Strong, steadfast, beautiful. His warrior spirit forged to protect and his unwavering strength held up those around him. The constellation winked, letting her know he heard her pleas to come home. She kept coming back to Alnitak, Alnilam, and Mintaka, running across the sky from east to west.

Those stars melted into piercing blue eyes, a face forming out of the cosmos until it was only him. The most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Shaggy brown hair framed his face, his pink lips pursed with a frown, his broad shoulders tensed to protect. It was him. Her inevitability.

 

~

 

Beth Greene woke to the warm smell of cinnamon and sugar wafting through her bedroom. It was a telltale scent at the Greene farm on a Saturday. It meant Maggie was home and in charge of breakfast. Cinnamon rolls and coffee, the breakfast of champions as her sister liked to remind them all. Rain or shine, Saturdays were for warm gooey pastries and slow mornings. Luckily, today was shining. Muddled, warm rays of sunlight streamed through her windows and painted the hardwood floor of her bedroom.

A fluttering flash of purple caught Beth’s eye as she sat up in bed. Her Cosmos flower trembled in the cool breeze coming through her cracked window. It was starting to wilt, unsurprisingly. A flower alone without roots to settle couldn’t survive. She felt bad knowing she was the one who plucked them from their homes, but it had become a comfort to see the purple flower every morning.

Beth noticed recently, with every flower she put into the small grey vase on her windowsill, they stayed alive a bit longer. If she hadn’t known better, she’d say the lives of her flowers somehow correlated to the strengthening of her soul dreams. However, she kept that little detail to herself.

Soul dreams. Alnitak, Alnilam, Mintaka.

She shook her head, trying to clear it of the man who haunted her every waking and sleeping hour. He was the first thing she thought about when she woke up and the last thing she thought about before going to bed. Yet, she still had no idea who he was or where to begin looking for him.

Her headboard jostled against the wall as she got out of bed. The floorboards creaked underneath her feet, undoubtedly alerting everyone downstairs to her impending presence. Beth haphazardly threw on some comfortable clothes, leaving her full morning routine for after she had some coffee. She left her window cracked despite the chilly morning air and headed downstairs.

With each step, hesitation grew. Beth loved her sister more than anything, but where her sister went, prodding surely followed. And she was not in the mood for more questions she couldn’t answer. Nevertheless, the growl of her stomach won out. She had two options: face the music or hide away. The latter wasn’t an option with cinnamon rolls on the table.

Beth made it into the entryway with more spring in her step, decision made. The front door was open, but the screen was latched, letting a cool draft swirl through the downstairs. She grabbed her cardigan hanging on the hook near the door before making her way into the dining room.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to the mountain of homemade cinnamon rolls stacked on a large plate in the center of the table. A few were already missing. Next to it was an even fuller pot of hot coffee and an empty mug. Out of tune humming floated from the kitchen, making her grin.

“Maggie?” Beth called out in question, even though she knew the answer.

Footsteps sounded on the old wooden floors until her older sister rounded the corner into the dining room. Her short hair bounced above her shoulders, green shirt making her eyes sparkle.

She was already holding a mug full of black coffee, “Mornin’. Everyone’s already left to run errands. It’s just you an’ me today. Which means—"

“Don’t. I know what you’re gonna say,” Beth interrupted, pulling out a chair and settling in for the lecture she knew was coming no matter how much she protested.

Maggie raised her eyebrow, “Someone woke up on the wrong side’a the bed. Come on, Bethie, ya know I’m just tryin’ to help.”

She let out a long breath through her nose, pushing her irritation aside, “I know…”

Her sister leaned her hip against the threshold, shifting her mug to her other hand, stalling, “So… anythin’?”

Beth shook her head already anticipating the question, because Maggie asked it nearly every weekend, “No.”

“It’ll come. Just gotta—”

“Be patient,” Beth finished for her, “It’s been a year. I see him every night, but nothin’ else.”

Maggie finally entered the room fully, tension broken. She pulled out the chair across from her, coffee mug thudding against the table, “Except Orion. That’s gotta mean somethin’. I mean… It’s not a pizza box with a name and phone number, but there’s gotta be more goin’ on there.”

Despite the hopeless topic, Beth’s lips twitched thinking about how Maggie found Glenn. Her soul dreams had been much clearer. She practically got step by step directions on how to find him. The rest was history. Her gaze dropped to the wedding ring on her sister’s finger; an undeniable warmth filled her chest. Nothing made her happier than knowing her sister was happy.

Beth poured herself some coffee and grabbed a cinnamon roll, “I’ve read every book in the tri-county area havin’ to do with constellations. It hasn’t gotten me any closer to findin’ him.”

“An’ you’re sure his name ain’t Orion?” Maggie asked for the dozenth time, although Beth truly didn’t mind.

“I’m sure. You remember what it felt like hearin’ Glenn’s name for the first time…” she reiterated, “You told me ya knew it was him ‘cause it just felt right when ya heard it. An’ that was before ya even met him.”

Maggie traced the wood grain pattern on the table with her fingertips. Her eyebrows scrunched in concentration, trying to find a solution they somehow overlooked for the past year, “An’ he still hasn’t said anythin’ in your dreams?”

Beth shook her head again, “It’s always the same. Just the stars until he appears outta this… cosmic fog. I don’t know.”

A set look of determination morphed Maggie’s features, a hard look in her eyes, “You’re gonna find him, Bethie. I know ya are. I can feel it. He’s your flame. I’m sure he’s lookin’ for ya too.”

Twin flame.

For as long as Beth could remember, the phrase was whispered around quiet corners. Always uttered in hushed tones. When she was younger, it was impolite to ask about soulmates blatantly. Supposedly, it was too intimate a question to ask even a friend. At least that’s what she was taught growing up, but the real world was far different than her little rural town of Senoia.

In the real world, people boldly claimed their flames with boisterous displays. They weren’t rare per say, but they also weren’t easy to find. No matter what anyone said, tracking down a flame through fragmented dreams alone wasn’t an easy feat for most. However, sometimes, the universe was giving and placed people together, whether they were passing on the street, or were just at the right place at the right time, or just downright lucky fate decided to intervene and show them directions.

Growing up, Beth always heard her daddy and mama call them twin flames. Maggie and Shawn called them soulmates and twin flame, interchangeably. Some of her friends called them kindred spirits. Some referred to them as soul connections. However, Beth never thought any of those sounded right coming off her tongue. They were either too heavy, too light, or left a bad taste in her mouth.

It wasn’t until she celebrated her eighteenth birthday when her phrase clicked. It rolled off her tongue, filling her chest with refracted light.

Mirror souls.

Written in pretty cursive letters in a card from a distance aunt off in California, it jumped off the page and latched onto her like a magnet. The rest of the letter had been awfully condescending, but those two words unlocked something in Beth. It was like her lungs opened up a bit more and she could breathe easier.

The only thing she could compare it to was the jolt and clearness she experienced taking a sip of water right after she’d sucked on a mint.

Beth thought she would’ve had her first dream that night, but nothing ever came. Just darkness. Just an empty void, as usual. She wondered if her other half was dead. Thoughts like that sent her spiraling, but she found solace in her daddy and mama. They weren’t mirror souls. Maggie’s mother, Josephine, was her daddy’s twin flame. And her mama’s flame was Shawn’s father, who died unexpectedly.

However, they still found love in each other despite half their soul being gone. They found love even with the violent, throbbing pain of losing their person. Some people could live with the severing. Some people couldn’t. There were varying degrees of strength when it came to soulmates. Some bonds were stronger than others, but everyone’s was uniquely their own. Stronger bonds were rare, coveted, but they came with downsides. If death came for one, the other would follow.

Her chest constricted just thinking about it, and she’d struggle to get air into her lungs. She couldn’t imagine being so intrinsically tied to someone, but then again, meeting her mirror soul could change her mind.

It was a few months after her eighteenth birthday when Beth had her first dream. Visions of Orion. They were incredibly fragmented, but she knew they were soul dreams.

There was a strange quality to them none of her other dreams had. Everything held more weight and she was more present, like the universe needed her to see and listen to what it was showing her. There was a peaceful quality to everything she saw, like staring at a tranquil pond. She imagined the same feeling dialed up to a hundred if she ever got the chance to meet him.

There were so many written accounts of soulmates meeting for the first time. Some described the sensation as a pleasant burning igniting in their chest. Hence, the twin flames description. Others described more of a tugging towards their person, or a calm, cascading effect. Every pair was different.

Beth pulled herself out of her thoughts, her sister still waiting for an answer. He’s your flame. I’m sure he’s lookin’ for ya too.

Resignation oozed through Beth, settling in her gut, “Whatever happens, happens. I’ve done what I can. Not much else ta do but wait.”

Maggie radiated her pain back to her, empathy pouring from her green eyes, “How ‘bout the… panic? Is it still…”

Beth took a bite of her cinnamon roll, needing the sugar if she was going to get into the darker side of things, “Yeah, it still happens. Can’t imagine what kinda life he’s got if the only strong emotion he ever feels is…fear.”

“Ya can’t think like that. Maybe the connection’s just—”

“It’s the only emotion strong enough to be sent to me,” Beth stopped her sister short, not wanting to rehash this part of the conversation they had every Saturday, “What does that tell ya? Before ya met Glenn, you told me you felt his happiness. His joy. His stress. His…excitement. But with mine, there’s nothin’ but fear. Every time I do feel him, it’s overwhelmin’, Maggie. It’s not simple stress, it’s dread.”

Tears sprung into Beth’s eyes, hot and without warning, because it wasn’t normal. Whoever her mirror soul was, whatever he dealt with on a daily basis, it wasn’t good. Beth prayed whatever situation he found himself in, he would find a way out eventually. If not, she hoped to radiate some of her joy and happiness to him every once in a while.

 

~

 

Happiness could be found in the small things. The boring things. The simple things. It could be found in the early spring showers dewing the fields. After all, they do bring May flowers. In the simplicity of a perfect sip of coffee. In the smile of a stranger on a crowded street. Life didn’t have to be loud, or boisterous, to be fulfilling. It could be quiet. That’s all Beth wanted now.

It wasn’t what she always dreamed of, but the raging fear that overcame her every so often made her grateful for her simple life. The twist in her gut sometimes made her sick. The rapid increase in her heartrate made her lightheaded, but the dread was the worst, like she was feeling him anticipate the worst catastrophe. It would seemingly come at random times throughout the day and night. There was no planning for it. All Beth could do was ride it out.

That’s why she felt compelled to find joy wherever she could, even in the small things, like the flower on her windowsill or on afternoon rides with Nelly. Lately, she’d been walking to the convenience store a few miles down the road just to meander and people watch in the parking lot. It made her happy and she hoped it was strong enough for him to feel it too.

Often times, she doubted it, but it wasn’t going to stop her from trying.

Beth’s ponytail thudded against her neck as she walked the last quarter mile to the small shop. There was a budding cornfield on the left and a couple mom and pop places scattered on her right. Some even older than the farms themselves. By the time Beth passed the town hall with chipped white paint and old oak doors, she knew she only had a few more minutes to go.

She wrapped her cardigan tighter around her, the early spring still holding onto the chill from the harsh winter they had. After breakfast, Maggie asked to tag along. Usually, she would’ve said yes, but something about this morning felt solitary. It was more about getting out and away from the suffocating reminders of her failure to interpret anything new from her soul dreams. About getting away from her sister’s questioning sighs and sympathetic stares.

Still, Beth promised she wouldn’t be long.

She pulled her mind away from the self-inflicted accusations. Instead, she kept herself busy by kicking a small rock down the road. It skittered and halted. Skittered and halted, until she kicked it a bit too hard and it tumbled into the tall grass, lost to her.

The farm shop appeared around a bend in the road. Beth picked up her pace to avoid any oncoming cars or tractors. The little corner store was built pre-electricity so every gauche neon sign in the windows looked remarkably out of place. It was the owner’s way of trying to get with the times. Everything else was outdated. No air conditioning. All three freezers in the back ran on generators and they only dealt in cash.

Most of what was available was sold to them by the surrounding farmers. Meat, corn, flowers, jams, soaps. Although, they still sold coffee and generic junk food. And, of course, any and all tobacco products someone could possibly think up.

Beth loved it. It was a slice of simplicity. She didn’t have to wonder if she’d be able to find what she needed. Beth always did. That was the joy in her little trips.

Her boots crunched against the gravel parking lot until she got to the glass double doors. She pushed her way in, a wall of humidity hitting her in the face despite the cooler temperature outside. Body heat and a small space would do wonders. A couple people loitered by the checkout counter, but it was otherwise empty.

It took her all of a minute to grab a KitKat bar for Maggie and a bag of chips for herself. She made her way through the rows of wooden tables decorated with a whole layout of assorted items. Everything from whittled wooden figurines, fancy soaps and self-care items, ornaments, and pottery.

Beth came up to the checkout counter. The boy running the cash register was in Beth’s high school graduating class, but she couldn’t remember ever having anything but a polite conversation with him, even though he was one of Jimmy’s friends. It was a wonder her and Jimmy lasted as long as they did, but the second Beth got a glimpse of her mirror soul, everything was over.

It was a long time coming anyway. There were no hard feelings, but Jimmy avoided her like the plague regardless.

So, Beth made polite small talk, never losing her southern manners, “How’s everythin’ this mornin’?”

Jimmy’s friend nodded, “Good. Busy as usual. We’ve been gettin’ a whole load of new people comin’ in ever since Frank figured out how to advertise online.”

A small smile graced her lips thinking about the older owner trying to work a computer, “Well, that’s good.” She kept it short and sweet, grabbing her items after giving him exact cash, “Have’a good day. Say hi to Jimmy for me.”

The boy hummed, “You too and I’ll let him know.”

Beth left as quickly as she had come. Despite her swiftness, a couple people had pulled up to the store for their morning coffee fix. She easily snuck by them and out the front doors. The bells chimed above her head as she pushed them open. Beth braced herself for the spring chill to weasel its way through her cardigan, but the humidity from inside still clung to her like a second skin.

She took a step off to the side to get away from the entrance. There was a little bench she usually sat on, braving the potential splinters each time. It was situated in a morning sunbeam, which she’d hope would keep her warm when the chill came back into her bones.

Beth didn’t want to go home quite yet. The silence would tear her apart. She’d be left wading through her own mind, sorting through every fragment of the dream she had last night. Every detail of his face was already locked away someplace deep labeled in red ink: fragile.

He was the most beautiful man Beth had ever seen. Older than she would’ve thought her mirror soul would be, based on the few greys in his facial hair, but none of that mattered. The thought came and went as easily as breathing. She was too busy trying to memorize the small mole above the left side of his mouth. His pink lips pursed from biting the inside of his cheek. The square of his broad shoulders and the way his hair clung to his forehead and temples. The tattoo on his right bicep.

However, what struck Beth the most were his eyes. They were so focused, steady, like they were seeing things no one else could. The blue of them was dark, hidden by the deep purple circles underneath his eyes, but it never undercut the power behind his gaze. Sometimes she wondered if he was actually seeing her. And it sent chills down her spine even now.

He looked so serious in the flashes of him she was gifted. It was the type of serious inherited from suffering, heavy and weighted. It was in his bones, not just on the surface where his scowl rested. She had the strong urge to reach out and touch him. Hold onto him. Be in his presence. Seeing her mirror for the first time made her feel the same way she felt when she gazed up at a clear sky full of stars.

Cosmically protected in the arms of oblivion. The beauty of inevitability.

The universe was endless, beautiful, cruel, unforgiving, and forbearing. It was everything all at once. And in those moments, Beth never had to be anything but insignificant. She felt at peace. All her thoughts quieted. When she first saw him, that feeling multiplied tenfold. Everything felt… right.

The sound of a car backfiring in the parking lot yanked Beth out of her head. The bells above the shop door rung out again, echoing in her mind. A man drenched in uncertainty stepped out of the store. His back was to her, but his leather vest caught her eye.

Rugged angel wings decorated his back.

Beth was about to look away. About to mind her own business, despite her relentless need to people watch. However, everything fell out of her head, when he turned towards her, seemingly searching for a trash can to throw away the plastic wrap encasing his cigarettes.

Her heart dropped, mouth opening in a silent gasp. She left her body, completely and utterly frozen in time and space. The acidic tendrils of fear wrapped around her gut and squeezed until she couldn’t breathe.

The man halted a couple feet from her. Different emotions flew across his face in record time. Confusion, hurt, then anger.

"What're you lookin' at, girl?" The man nearly growled at her. 

Beth was paralyzed. True fear furrowed its way into her heart, soul withering with the sudden realization. She was staring at the man from her dreams, the supposed mirror to her soul.

And she felt nothing.

No intense tugging. No cascading waves. No flames igniting. No cosmic peace. Beth felt nothing as she gazed upon the man who was supposed to be her soulmate.

Tears threatened to well up in her eyes. The sting of them blurring her vision. Confusion and devastation took turns tearing her apart. How could she be looking at the man from her fragmented dreams and the connection not be made? Was fate trying to teach her a lesson? Was the universe laughing at her?

It wasn't him, but it was.

That's when she noticed he looked younger than the man who frequented her dreams. Undoubtedly, the same person, but the man standing in front of her had shorter hair. The circles under his eyes weren't as pronounced. He was bulkier in places and skinnier in others. However, his piercing blue eyes were the same, but somehow, everything was wrong.

Beth finally gathered enough composure to stutter out, "I—I'm sorry. Ya look like someone I thought I knew..."

The man's eyes darted around skittishly, looking uncomfortable in his own skin. He could barely look her in the eye, but she hung on his every move with bated breath. With every second passed, her heart pounded itself into ash, waiting for a connection still nowhere to be felt.

"Ain't nobody you'd be knowin'," he replied, gruffly.

Beth didn't know why she asked, but she couldn't help herself, "An' why's that?" The words fell from her mouth in a breathless whisper, her last dregs of hope clinging to her question. She hoped if she stayed in his presence long enough, everything would click into place.

He shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable, but his answer was in the way he looked between her and himself like it was obvious. It was like she could almost hear the words he wouldn’t say: Ain’t worth knowin’.

Pain pierced her heart. He didn't know who she was, but somehow, she knew him. Beth held her pain in her chest. It pushed up through her throat as she said, "Don't think anyone's not worth knowin'."

Beth didn’t realize she responded like he had said something, until her words seemed to strike. He blinked, trying to gain composure. She wondered if she had somehow read his mind exactly, in a way that was impossible for two strangers. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, not quite able to pull his eyes away from her now. Overwhelming emotions took over Beth’s body then, floodgates cracking open.

A tear broke her waterline and slid down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away, but it was too late. The man watched it trail down her cheek, brows furrowed in concern and confusion. There was something deeply haunted in his narrowed eyes, but it wasn't the same unbearable pain she was feeling.

There was nothing shared between them. He never dreamed of her. He didn’t recognize her at all.

He steadily assessed her like she was something vital, putting together puzzle pieces he had no reference for. Then, the moment broke. He looked away, subconsciously putting distance between them, "Best be gettin' outta here. Whatever you're lookin' for ain't here."

She could tell he was referring to himself. He looked over his shoulder before pulling a cigarette out of his newly bought carton, opting to shove the plastic wrap into his pants pocket instead of stepping around her to get to the trash can.

Beth was completely numb, mind whirling, soul burning. Hope extinguished in an instant. How could she be so close, yet so far? It was agonizing, pins and needles prodding at her every breath, but somehow, she nodded. Although, she couldn’t remember what she was nodding to. So, she got up from her bench. Her limbs moved on pure muscle memory and nothing else.

She turned without another word, his lighter clicking in the background. Simply, she was a ghost floating through the world. The butt of some cosmic joke.

At the last second, she halted, the gravel underneath her boots skittering across the parking lot. She whirled around to see the man still watching her. Her voice cracked as she asked, "What's your name?"

He stared at her for too long to be casual, because this was anything but casual. Smoke billowed from his lips, swirling above his head, "Daryl." He paused, contemplating something, before he added, quieter, “Dixon.”

It looked like it pained him to say it, but something forced it out of him.

“Daryl,” she repeated, softly, more to herself than him. Even though everything else felt wrong, his name felt right falling from her lips. It was something, but it wasn’t enough to fill the hole carved out of her chest.

Beth didn’t offer her name back and Daryl didn’t ask.

 

~

 

Orion’s Belt.

The three stars twinkled against the night sky, a beacon home. The hunter blazed gloriously above her. Strong, steadfast, beautiful. His warrior spirit forged to protect and his unwavering strength held up those around him. The constellation winked, letting her know he heard her pleas to come home.

Beth stared at Orion until his stars burned behind her eyelids. Until they turned into a pair of blue eyes, the same ones which haunted her day and night. Then, something cosmic shifted and Beth was falling through the night. Silent screams filled her ears. The fog faded as the stars above her became more tangible.

Everything sunk, until reality exploded before her. Some inner voice inside her head gasped as she crashed into unfamiliar territory. It was like starting a movie in the middle instead of at the beginning. Confusion swept through her in waves. Instead, she focused on her surroundings.

Bark of a tree scratched against her back. The leaves on the ground crunched underneath her curious fingers. However, it wasn’t her body who was experiencing it. She had no control over the person she inhabited. She was a spectator.

She never dreamed like this. Flashes and feelings were all she’d ever been afforded. And always as a silent, floating, invisible vessel. Now, she was watching through someone else’s eyes. Feeling their feelings. She was but a passenger, experiencing the world through her mirror soul’s eyes. It had to be him. Who else could it be?

The chilly breeze whispered through the trees and grazed his cheeks. The smell of decaying leaves wafted into his nose. The dancing shadows from the dying embers of a small pit fire illuminated the small clearing he was in. It all flowed through her secondhand, but Beth had no reins to pull.

She was a voyeur.

There was a nagging urge in her stomach that wasn’t her own. He was waiting for something. With every passing second, the nagging got stronger. More insistent. It twisted and roared until his chest caved with each bated breath. Then, everything went quiet.

His body slowly rose from the ground, grabbing hold of some type of knife holstered on his belt. Confusion bubbled through Beth at the same time biting fear laced its way through his gut.

He was scared. Something was wrong.

That’s when a vile, disgusting noise erupted through the woods. Her first instinct was to run, but his body stayed put. Clinking noises filled the night, like tin cans hitting each other. His head snapped towards the noise and Beth screamed internally.

Ambling towards her was a gnarled, twisted creature that looked like it could have once been human. It growled and grunted like a deranged animal, clawing its way towards him. Beth recoiled into a deeper part of Daryl’s mind, trying to hide from his reality.

This couldn’t be real. It had to be fake. Some kind of prank, but his fear was real. It coated her like a second skin.

The thing was close enough to grab him and close enough for Beth to see the dried blood crusted around its maw. Its decaying flesh burned his nose, sunken yellow eyes not at all human anymore.

It occurred to Beth she might be witnessing her mirror soul’s death. She never heard of such a thing, but it wasn’t like any of this was an exact science. So, she braced for the pain. The agonizing ripping of half of her soul withering away. Beth braced for it, but it never came.

His body lunged forward, grabbing hold of the creature’s forearm. With practiced ease, her mirror soul pulled the creature towards himself and embedded his awaiting knife into its skull with a squelch. The thing slumped to the ground, nothing but a pile of bones, skin, and horror.

She watched on in dismay, fear choking her like a vice. What had she just witnessed? What was going on?

The thing lay motionless on the ground, lit by the dying fire. It was worse than she could have imagined. Whatever it was, clearly was dangerous, but even now, it looked like a person. She couldn’t understand. Maybe, this was all a nightmare. Some sick sort of test.

“Beth!”

Her heart dropped into her stomach, clenching in a grip of panic. She knew that voice…

The body Beth inhabited turned towards the sound of her name, “Daryl.”

A far-off sense of relief flooded through the body she was graced with, but all Beth could hear was that voice. That was her voice coming out of a body that wasn’t her own, but it was undoubtedly hers. Daryl came crashing through the trees, chest heaving from running. He scanned her body from head to toe, checking for injuries.

The light in the clearing was so minimal Beth hadn’t noticed it was her own hands grabbing the knife. She wasn’t feeling Daryl’s feelings. She was feeling her own.

The Beth she inhabited was relieved to see him. Happy, even. There was fondness there. Trust, safety, but no tugging of the bond between them. Beth turned inward and felt the same thing she felt the first night she laid eyes on Daryl… Home. Peace. The cascading inevitability of cosmic oblivion. A sky full of stars. Her Orion. Beth felt the pull deep inside her when the other her only felt closeness.

 She couldn’t wrap her mind around any of it. Her voice broke the tentative silence again, filling the small clearing in the woods, “Wasn’t bit.”

Relief flashed through his eyes before he nodded, “Need ta keep movin’.”

“We can’t keep doin’ this, Daryl. Runnin’. Not forever. There’s gotta be somethin’ more,” her voice urged, trying to reach out to him.

Daryl turned away, his head bowed. The silence was deafening, but eventually, he gave a short nod, “Alright.”

He closed the distance, stomping out the last embers of the fire. Beth reached out to him. For a split second, he hesitated. Then, his hand gently wrapping around her wrist. With his touch, everything went black.

 

~

 

Beth woke with a start, sweat drenching her body. She heaved air into her lungs one gulp at a time until she was sure she wouldn’t throw up. The rolling nausea wasn’t just isolated to her stomach, but somehow all over her body. Beth looked around her room, identifying things she could see.

Her journal on her desk. Her guitar resting in the corner near the window. The unfolded pile of clothes still in the laundry basket. The lone Cosmos flower in a grey vase on her windowsill.

Beth threw her sheets off. They scratched against her hypersensitive skin, becoming unbearable. Instead, she stumbled towards the window. Her fingers fumbled with the latch before pushing it up and letting the chilly night air into her stifling room. The cool breeze sent a shiver through her, but not from the cold. From the way it reminded her of the dream.

It was her, a version of her who existed somewhere else entirely. Or, a version of her who didn’t exist yet. How could that be possible? How could any of this be real? A million questions went through her mind.

What was that thing she killed? How could her mirror soul be here, but not here? How could there be another version of her?

But the question that haunted her the most… How was she supposed to get to him?

It was him. Her Orion. Her mirror. But he seemed to already have his own Beth, even if she wasn’t his soulmate. Daryl was hers and she had no way of getting to him.

They were one soul split beneath two moons.

Notes:

Welp, that was the start to this crazy soulmates/canon divergence/modern setting Bethyl story that I've been marinating on for a couple of months. I am so happy to be back in the Bethyl fandom, you guys have no idea. This chapter has a good bit of exposition, which was unfortunately necessary, but I hope it was interesting despite the sort of info dump nature.

At first, I was extremely hesitant to write this story after I came up with the idea. Mostly because I really enjoy writing realistically (or as realistically as you can when there are literal zombies in the canon story lol). And this idea seemed to push the boundaries of realistic. I've always loved the idea of a soulmates AU, but I really wanted there to be a twist. If you're a returning reader, you guys know I really really really don't like manufacturing drama in a relationship as the main source of plot in my stories. So, hence why I'm writing my soulmates AU like this.

I found it very compelling to have two soulmates separated not only by time, but also by universes. I've hinted at A Thousand Times Before being the alternate reality of Knowin' You're Alive. And I thought it would be fun to actually fledge that idea out a little more for a plot arc. This chapter focuses on establishing the world of soulmates, but also establishes where we're meeting Beth as a character. This story will go back and forth between Beth and Daryl's POVs. So, there's that to look forward to.

This story isn't going to be as long as either of my other Bethyl stories. If I had to guess, this story may end up being 10-12 chapters. Although, I've been known to lie lol. Anyway, I really hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter. I hope it's just as compelling to you as the idea was to write. Can't wait to hear what you guys think. All the love and I'll see you on the first Sunday of September with chapter two <3<3

Chapter 2: The Lyre of Orpheus

Notes:

Hello lovelies! Hope you all are going well. I have another chapter for you. Our first Daryl POV chapter! I can't wait to hear what you all think!

All the love and come chat with me in comments <3

Fragmented. Broken. In denial.

Through it all, he heard her. The voice came from some distant part of his vacated mind, sung to him in a siren’s melody. He grabbed onto it like a lifeline, crawling towards it on his hands and knees, because here, in his mind, Daryl didn’t have to be strong. He didn’t have to feel guilty for letting himself cave to the peace and calm. He didn’t have to pretend.

From the first moment he heard her in his dreams, Daryl knew who the melody belonged to. He hadn’t needed any other signs. Her voice alone was enough.

The hymn was always the same. It weaved through the six-star constellation filling his vision. It painted a picture of dew-covered trees, babbling streams, and chittering wildlife. He selfishly clung to her voice, knowing he’d never allow himself the same leniency in the waking world. She softly sung to him until all the fear disappeared. Until all his grief was forgotten. Until Daryl was overcome with a sense of armistice.

Beth’s voice held a hand out, welcoming him to a place he’d never known: home. The stars above his head melted into the cornflower blue eyes he knew so well. Her face formed out of the ether until she was standing there in front of him, smiling like he was worth something more. It was her. His paradox.

 

~

 

Daryl Dixon barely slept, but it wasn’t like he had before the world went to shit. Sleep was a luxury he could never afford. Now, it had become a selfish habit, because it was the only time he got to put his guard down. It was rare, even at the prison, where there was some semblance of safety. Walls, gates, guard towers. It was all up in flames now.

And somehow, an even heavier burden fell on his shoulders. Daryl was responsible for keeping the last Greene alive, no matter the cost. If not for the principle of family, then for the simple fact, she was Hershel’s daughter.

Admit it, ya fuckin’ coward. Come on. Ain’t even able to say it in your own thoughts.

Daryl exhaled through his nose, a stubborn bull rearing for a fight, warring with himself like it was his only job. He squeezed his eyes shut bracing for the confession.

It wasn’t just because Beth was family. She was his goddamn soulmate.

The first night after the prison fell, he heard her in his dreams. After that, he shut down like a no-good coward. Shut her out like it was somehow her fault. He was furious at the idea of some sort of fate suddenly intervening and placing him with Beth when it couldn’t save Hershel or his brother or his family from ruin. How was that fucking fair?

He couldn’t understand why. The mere sight of Beth with all her hope, and seemingly no idea who he was to her, made him batshit. It ate him alive. All the guilt, the pain, the confusion came erupting out of him in his drunken state. Surrounded by a piece of shit shack, reminding him too much of his childhood home, he lost it. She was never supposed to see that side of him, but it was too little too late.

Everything that was once chomping at his heels had flayed him open in that moment. Not just her dad’s death. Not just the ruin of their home or the loss of their family, but the fact she was tied to him. Her of all people, even if she didn’t know it yet.

Daryl dug his knife into the dew damp dirt beneath him. The chittering sound of birds hidden in the branches above kept him sane. The sun shined, but the dying leaves did nothing to shield him from its rays.

The sharp sound of shuffling caught his attention and he turned to see Beth restlessly checking their makeshift alarm system for the hundredth time. Tin cans and hubcaps rattled as she tugged on the piece twined tied between two trees. Daryl followed her every move with his eyes until she turned. He dropped his gaze, fidgeting with his knife as he listened to her rifle through her pack. A crinkling sound let him know she was digging into their last bag of sunflower seeds.

Their last bag of anything.

As the weather got colder, animals started to hunker down for the winter. Even the goddamn squirrels had abandoned them. The hunger hadn't shown up on his body yet, but it had on Beth's, which was far worse.

Her grimy yellow shirt from the golf club hung loose on her shoulders and around her stomach. Last week, he watched her cut another hole in her belt to keep her jeans up. Her once rounded cheeks were sharper and the bags under her eyes were heavier.

At night, one of two things happened. If Beth had first watch, she’d stand and move around their camp silently to keep herself warm. If he had first watch, he’d let the guilt gnaw at him while she curled into a ball as close to their fire without getting burned. And still, she would shiver. He swore he could hear her bones rattle from a mile away.

What made it even worse was, every night, Daryl saw Beth in his dreams. They were always the same, but the peaceful happiness he usually felt started to bleed away into shame. In his dreams, Beth was healthy. Well fed. Happy. She even laughed.

It's how he knew Beth was slowly going hungry, because Daryl saw what she was supposed to look like every night. And the difference... Well, all he'd say was it made his skin crawl. If he failed her now, there'd be a reserved spot in hell for him next to all the people he’d killed.

Beth’s raggedy boots approached. His attention pulled away from his aimless hands and instead turned to her. She cradled a handful of seeds in the palm of her hand, but still carefully crouched next to him and held out the rest of the bag of sunflower seeds. Beth could’ve easily just thrown it at his feet, but instead, she took the time to hand it to him.

It was probably a little thing to anyone else, but to him, it wasn’t something to be overlooked. He took the bag, fingers grazing hers absentmindedly. It still caused a jolt to go up his spine like he was some fucking teenager with a damn crush.

Beth eyes were distant as she scanned the clearing, chewing thoughtfully. There was an almost rectangular pattern to the way she moved. She would pop a sunflower seed in her mouth, take a few steps in one direction, then shift to another, as her lips pursed to suck the salt off. Then, she’d pause when she wanted to crack open the shell with her back molars. She’d transfer the empty shell from her mouth to her other hand. And repeat.

It wasn’t until she’d eaten through her handful did Daryl start to question why she hadn’t thrown the empty shells on the ground, “What’re ya doin’?”

Beth looked over her too thin shoulder, eyes crinkling at the corners. The leaves crunched underneath her boots as she walked to the nearest tree branch. Delicately, she placed her pile of empty sunflower shells onto the branch, fingers brushing over them to spread the pile out.

“Everythin’ is useful to somethin’. Might not be to us, but doesn’t mean it can’t be to somethin’ else,” she finally answered.

Daryl was struck stupid, truly and completely. He stared at her, unable to pull his eyes away. Not because of her smile or the moment of brightness sparking in her blue eyes. It had everything to do with her kindness. Her stubborn hopeful kindness. Because who in this world would take the time to lay out sunflower seeds in hopes some animal would find it useful?

Only Beth Greene.

A couple weeks ago, he would’ve scoffed. Maybe even ridiculed her for it. Spewed some bullshit about how the world didn’t care about them, so why should they give a shit? He would’ve, but not anymore. Not since he promised to be better. Instead, his voice rumbled out low and quiet, “Good karma an’ all that shit, huh?”

Beth tilted her head, smile growing as she watched him, “Givin’ good… It’ll come back to ya.”

All he did was hum in response, but he felt the corner of his lips tug upward, “Better than nothin’.”

 

~

 

The dilapidated double-wide trailer house had a sagging roof and a collapsed porch. It had seen better days, but somehow it was still better than that piece of shit him and Beth burned down a couple weeks ago. It took all of five minutes to clear the house. Not a soul in sight, dead or alive. The thick layer of dust coating everything told him as much.

Framed photographs of two men with fishing rods hung on the entryway wall. They were sporting camouflage waders and grim, deadeye stares. The living room was sparse. A nearly rotten through couch, moth eaten plaid blanket, and a splotchy coffee table were the only things taking up space. There were two rooms down the hall, one completely empty and the other with a mildew mattress pushed up against the wall. The bathroom wasn’t much better, but Daryl did swipe a bottle of old ibuprofen. It may be expired, but people had killed for less in this world.

Muffled footsteps sounded down the hallway. His head turned as he closed the bathroom cabinet to see Beth standing in the doorway holding up a can of beans and creamed corn, “Found dinner.”

Daryl nodded, a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. He tried to go hunting this morning, but turned up with nothing good. Two cans of food weren’t going to tie them over for long, but there was a triumphant smile on Beth’s face. So, he kept his damn mouth shut. He nodded back towards the living room and she broke off to the lead the way.

Beth carefully stepped around the suspicious stains on the carpet before kneeling next to the coffee table. She unsheathed her knife and got to work on the cans. The sawing sound created a monotonous buzz in the air, a soundtrack to his mounting stress about their safety and food supply. His skin shifted and stretched over his muscles uncomfortably, restlessness singing in his ringing ears.

“You just gonna stand there an’ watch me all night?” She teased, drawing him out of his head long enough to decide on a plan.

“Nah, gonna do a check,” Daryl grunted, his mind already out the door, “See if I can catch us somethin’ better than canned beans.”

Beth looked up from the ground, knife halfway through sawing open a can of black beans, “Don’t forget the creamed corn.” She waved the other can while a teasing, albeit sleepy, grin spread across her lips.

Daryl shuffled his feet, trying to look anywhere but at her hopeful eyes. He failed with a shake of his head, “Be back in an hour.”

She blinked and then, concern creased between her eyebrows, “Won’t insult ya by sayin’ be careful.”

Despite the gnawing stress, warmth spread through his chest. He slung his crossbow over his shoulder, “Good.” Her lingering worry stuck with him, bleeding behind his eyelids, long after he walked out the door and into the afternoon.

At one point, he would’ve taken her concern as an insult. Did she not think he was capable of surviving? Or worse, he would’ve chalked it up to her only being concerned she wouldn’t make it without him. However, he knew better now. Beth Greene was selfless, or as selfless as anyone could be in this world.

She was more scared of losing people than losing herself. So, instead of assuming the worst, he saw the truth for what it was. Beth was worried about losing him. Not because she was worried about her own survival, but because she cared about him.

Daryl lost himself in the realization. He spent a good half hour checking the perimeter on autopilot. The house sat far enough into the woods they didn’t have to worry about people wandering in from the road. He told himself the extra care and time he spent checking their surroundings had nothing to do with the tugging in his chest for the girl he left behind. It had nothing to do with it; he was just being careful. Safe.

The pathway leading to the house was so overgrown he was certain the place had been abandoned long before the world fell. Daryl spent the next thirty minutes tracking only to come up with nothing. It seemed the only living things for miles in any direction were him and Beth.

By the time he meandered back, Beth had already set up their alarms on the porch. His boots were about to connect with the first porch step when he felt it.

Lightness melted the tension in his body, strong and vibrant. The pinks, oranges, and purples of the dying sunset were suddenly blazing in his eyes instead of simply muted in the background. It was like he’d taken off a pair of dark shaded sunglasses and could finally see. Everything was brighter. Daryl huffed out a surprised breath almost stumbling over the porch steps.

He could feel her. Beth’s joy.

It coursed through him in soft waves, radiating over his entire body. His arms and the back of his neck broke out in goosebumps, something he usually only experienced when there was danger. Not… happiness.

It was something so untainted, Daryl wasn’t sure he ever felt something so pure even before the world went to shit. Questions bombarded his mind. What was she thinking about? What was she doing? How could she still feel something like that?

He needed to know.

When Daryl caught his breath, he hastily climbed the steps and burst through the door without warning. He hadn’t thought to announce himself. Beth jumped up from the floor, eyes wide, brandishing her knife. When she saw it was him, her shoulders slumped, “You tryin’ to give me a heart attack?”

Her empty hand clutched her chest as it rose and fell rapidly, but Daryl never felt the spike of fear through the connection. All he felt was joy. Simple and unadulterated. He stared at her too long, trying to put two and two together. Maybe, it was delayed. Maybe, he only felt certain things, but not everything.

He grumbled out something vaguely sounding like an apology, still too consumed by the lightness in his head to acknowledge his reality. It was all too much, “Gonna take first watch.”

The confusion in Beth’s eyes suffocated him as the joy slowly slipped away, “But your dinner—"

Daryl couldn’t let her finish. The front door shut behind him, abandoning her for the quiet of the night and hoping to get his head screwed on straight. The cool air engulfed him once more as he listened for the shuffling of Beth’s boots inside the house. The thought of dinner was lost to him when all he could think about was her.

He slumped down on the steps of the porch; crossbow settled beside him. Daryl appreciated the quiet, but there were times when the quiet became too much. When it allowed him to think too much, so he turned his attention to something greater than himself.

He stared up at the clear Georgia night sky through the clearing in the forest canopy. The moonlight cast enough of a glow for him to see the immediate area. It was an ideal a place as any to settle for the night. Usually, their options were limited to the woods, or the road, and he’d be damned if he allowed them to set up camp anywhere near an open road with no cover.

His fingers flexed around the handle of his knife, keeping the blood flowing. And up above, he traced the familiar six-star constellation with his eyes. It was far fainter in reality than it was in his dreams, but his eyes were always drawn to it. He never had a hard time finding it.

The cool breeze whistled through the tin can alarm system, rattling them. He could have sworn the noise sounded familiar. Somehow a melody formed out of them, a hymn so familiar he could catch it anywhere—

Rustling interrupted his thoughts. His body immediately tensed before the squeak of the screen door alerted him to her presence. His fight instincts settled when he heard Beth’s footsteps coming to join him with a bowl of cold beans and creamed corn. She quietly sat next to him, placing the food between them like an offering. Her soft voice broke the silence, making him fully turn his head towards her, “What’re you lookin’ at?”

He was grateful she didn’t bring up his odd behavior earlier. She curled her knees into her chest, arms wrapping around them to conserve warmth. He let his head slump forward slightly, “Supposed ta be sleepin’.”

“I can’t. So, you’re stuck with me,” Beth replied quietly, following the trail of his gaze back to the stars hanging overhead, “Tell me what you’re lookin’ for.” Without glancing back over, Daryl pointed to the configuration of stars in the northeast. Beth hummed, “You mean the parallelogram with the tail pointed towards the north?”

“Mhm,” he hummed in acknowledgement.

Beth scooted closer until he could feel her warmth, craning her neck to get a better look, “If I’m rememberin’ right, that’s Lyra.”

Daryl’s eyebrows furrowed in question even though he knew she couldn’t see him, “What?”

“Lyra… the constellation. Some people call it the Harp. It was named after Orpheus’s lyre. When his wife, Eurydice, died, he tried to use his lyre to charm his way into the underworld to bring her back,” Beth paused, the silence growing heavy.

His stomach sank for some reason as his mind made unnecessary connections. He grunted out, “An’ did he?”

Her answer was final and desolate, “No. His lyre was put in the sky as a reminder’a the power of music, love, and resilience.”

Daryl blew out a long breath through his nose, expelling the air from his lungs. Now, he knew why he kept seeing the constellation in his dreams. It was the living embodiment of Beth Greene. However, there was no recognition in her voice to let him know she knew. So, he replied, “Sounds like one’a those damn Hallmark cards. The fuck is a lyre anyway?”

“Daryl,” Beth leaned over and jostled his shoulder as she laughed quietly, “It’s like’a small harp. Sure there’s more to it than that, but that’s all I got.”

Daryl thought about the story she told, curious to how she knew so much about it, “Ain’t ya supposed to be a good Christian? What’re ya doin’ with all’a that pagan shit?”

“We all have our secrets,” she shrugged, but he could practically hear the smile on her lips, “Interest in Greek mythology seems to be a pretty minor offense all things considered…”

Daryl huffed, “Tell that to the Man upstairs.”

Beth tilted her head up towards the sky again, “You’re one to talk. Sure you’ve got some secrets too.”

“What’s that supposed ta mean?” He questioned with a huff.

“Well…” Beth paused, clearly not deterred by his tone, “You’re you. Quiet, ‘til ya can’t keep it in anymore.”

There wasn’t an ounce of accusation in her voice, but the guilt wormed its way into his chest anyway. Guilt was something Daryl was acutely familiar with. It plagued him all his life, whether warranted or not. In this case, he knew he was in the wrong. In more ways than one. He’d never be able to take back his outburst a couple weeks ago. All the vile things he spit at her because he couldn’t bear the pain twisting inside him anymore. Couldn’t bear the guilt. It had to come out.

And Daryl was sure he was being punished for it now. Forever doomed to look upon his soulmate, but her not recognize him.

Still, all he could do was be better going forward. Daryl stayed quiet, the heavy silence hanging between them. Beth carefully leaned against him, resting shoulder to shoulder, “Come on. Tell me’a secret. It’s only fair.”

At that moment, it seemed Daryl floated outside of his body. This was all starting to sound an awful lot like the drinking game they played that day. Too much so. However, there was no hurt twisting his gut anymore. He doesn’t know what compelled him to say it, but with Lyra blinking above him and the warmth of Beth’s touch whispering he was safe, Daryl confessed, “Night after the prison… Had’a dream.”

Beth sat up straighter, head snapping towards him, “You— You mean ya had a soul dream?" The awe in her stuttering voice was clear. All Daryl could do was dip his chin in acknowledgement, but the surprise in her question wasn’t reassuring. Luckily, she didn’t clock his apprehension in the dim moonlight, “Was it your first one?”

“Yeah,” Daryl finally unstuck the answer from his throat, “Figured they were dead already.” When Beth didn’t answer right away, he turned to look at her. She was somehow perfectly sitting in a beam of moonlight. It highlighted her cheekbone, her lips, and the lost look darkening her blue eyes.

She interlocked her fingers in her lap, squeezing until her knuckles turned white. The detached look in her eyes was locked onto something far off in the distance. When she finally spoke her usually melodic voice had lost its tune, “Must’ve been somethin’ beautiful, realizin’ there’s someone out there waitin’ for ya.”

Daryl’s stomach twisted and dropped hearing the pain in her voice. Now, there was no doubt in his mind. Beth hadn’t made a connection yet. And there was a distinct possibility she may be his soulmate, but he may not be hers.

Yeah, that hurt, but Daryl never kidded himself into believing there was someone out there for him anyway. People used soulmates as scapegoats to deal with their shitty lives. What hurt the most wasn’t the possibility Beth would never see him as what he was. It was that she, of all people, deserved it more than anyone.

All the hope and love and goodness she held onto, even in a world that tried to constantly kill that light, she deserved every bit of it. Daryl may not put much stock in soulmates, but Beth did. It’s why fate wasn’t fair.

He wasn’t good at offering comfort the way Beth was, but he could give her something, “Gonna find’a place. Ain’t gonna keep draggin’ us ‘round Georgia with the nights gettin’ cold.” Daryl let the offer hang between them before adding, quieter, “Good night’s rest. Decent meal that ain’t from’a can… maybe you’ll get what you’re lookin’ for.”

He told himself it wasn’t for selfish reasons, but that was a fucking lie.

 

~

 

Beth’s voice held a hand out, welcoming him to a place he’d never known: home. The stars above his head melted into the cornflower blue eyes he knew so well. Her face formed out of the ether until she was standing there in front of him, smiling like he was worth something more. It was her. His paradox.

Then, something shifted and Daryl watched Beth melt away before his very eyes. Silent screams filled her ears. The stars above him spun into clouds until they disappeared into the sun. His reality became more tangible.

Everything sunk, his bones growing heavy until something inside him stabilized. Confusion swept through him as he looked at his callused hands, checking if he was real or still dreaming. He couldn’t decide which, so it might as well be both.

That’s when he felt the sun beating down on his back. The cool fall air closed in around him. Daryl’s eyes blinked open, focusing on his surroundings. And immediately, he was struck with familiarity. The grassy fields, the pond, the barn… Hershel’s farm. It stretched out in front of him like a sick joke.

Why was he here?

Giggling broke out across the fields. Daryl’s head snapped to the sound without a second thought. When he saw the source of the musical laugh, the air bowed out of his lungs. Beth Greene was riding Nelly across the farm. Her blond hair swept up in a ponytail, thumping against her back.

The smile painting her lips was wide and true. Daryl wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her so happy. He was stuck in place until he realized the lightness in his bones and the tingles throughout his body were the result of Beth’s joy. It was hers. He felt it before, but now, it had multiplied tenfold, completely overtaking all of his senses.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. This glowing creature he didn’t recognize, not truly. Whatever he was seeing wasn’t born from his own memories. It was something else entirely because he couldn’t have conjured up something so pure even in his wildest imagination.

“Daryl?”

His stomach dropped. Beth was staring right at him, atop her horse. Confusion marred her features. She pulled on Nelly’s reins, dismounting just as quick, but he couldn’t move.

“Daryl!”

And he slipped away.

 

~

 

“Daryl…”

His eyelids fluttered open at the sound of her voice, different in its urgency. The first thing he saw was the crown molding on the ceiling, far too fancy and decorative for his taste. Then, he saw the beige walls. The open lid of a wooden casket hung above him. The inside draped in some kind of cloth too fancy for him to even touch even if he was dead.

Then, Daryl finally saw her. Beth hung over him at a safe distance, eyeing him curiously, before saying softly, “Come eat.”

Daryl sat up, wondering if he at all looked like one of the dead rising from his grave. He blinked the sleep from his eyes; his dream still stuck to him like a second skin. His voice grumbled out, “Shouldn’t be up on that ankle. How many times I gotta tell ya?”

Beth wobbled a step back, keeping most of the weight off the ankle that got caught in a trap. He swung his legs over the edge of the casket and jumped down. A quiet thud reverberated through the front room of the funeral home.

He all but promised Beth he’d find a place for them to hunker down. He hadn’t exactly expected it to be a funeral home, but with Beth’s ankle, it was their best bet. The place was clean, well take care of. A part of him wondered if it was all too good to be true, but they had no other options. She needed to rest and heal. And frankly, he needed a break.

“Maybe one more,” Beth answered with a tilting tease of her head.

Daryl grunted out, “Gonna be the death’a me, girl.”

“Hope not—” Beth started, but squeaked when he swooped down and picked her up. One arm underneath her knees and another behind her back. Her surprised broke into a giggle, familiarity panging around his chest again, “I can walk, ya know?”

Daryl weaved through the chairs set up around the casket, “Can don’t mean ya should.”

The warm, flickering candle light of the front room, disappeared as he entered the dark hallway and made his way towards the kitchen. The weight of Beth’s arms around his shoulders settled him in a way nothing else in this world had. When he kicked the kitchen door open and stepped inside, Beth had already set everything up nicely.

Candles lit up the dark space, casting everything in an orange glow. The food they gathered was set out on the small table like a feast. Daryl carefully set Beth down in the chair closest to him. The warmth drained out of him when she was no longer in his arms. However, her hands remained a bit longer than necessary. They only fell away when he stood to his full height.

Daryl nodded his head towards the food before sitting down himself, “Eat.”

It wasn’t so much a command as a request. He needed her to eat. She was too gaunt. Her cheeks too hollow. He wanted to see the girl in dreams be a reality. Not starving. Not just surviving, but laughing, Joyful. Happy.

Beth curled into her chair like she belonged there, tearing into one of the many jars of green beans. Daryl watched her carefully while he ate his jar of peanut butter. Quiet settled around them, but Beth’s giggle still rang in his head. It was a small piece of hope, something he refused to acknowledge until now.

Scratching sounds filled the room and Daryl paused his eating. Beth glanced up from her pen and paper, sensing his staring, “I’m gonna leave a thank you note.”

“Why?” He asked, but he thought he already knew the answer.

Beth shrugged, quiet voice floating towards him in answer, “For when they come back. If they come back… Even if they're not coming back, I still want to say thanks.”

Something about her looked different. Some otherworldly shit he wasn’t nearly equipped enough to describe. The candle flame on the table flickered, catching the sparkle in her eyes as she jotted down a thank-you note for whoever’s place they were occupying. And that’s what did him in. The enjoyment in the smallest piece of hope.

It made him what to believe. Not just in the optimism of good people, but that somehow, someway, there was a reason him and her ended up together at the end of the world.

Fate had fucked him twelve ways to Sunday and that was putting it nicely, but maybe, this one time, it had worked in his favor.

Daryl gestured to the note with his empty spoon, “Maybe, ya don't gotta leave that. Maybe, we stick around here for a while. They come back; we'll just make it work. May be nuts, but maybe it'll be alright.”

It was the closest he’d ever gotten to believing in something good. And that good was Beth Greene. When she looked up at him and smiled, he bowed his head, unable to look at that kind of warmth head on. Her voice was soft and light when she replied, “So, ya do think there’re still good people around. What changed your mind?”

Daryl fiddled with his spoon, digging it into the jar of peanut butter. His eyes darted between his dinner and Beth’s questioning eyes. He couldn’t keep himself from glancing up at her, but the seemingly innocent question was far from it. At least for him.

He shrugged, trying his damnedest to keep things simple even though things were anything but, “You know.”

Still, Beth pushed, “What?”

Her voice had a singsong quality to it that drew him in even more, lowering his guard. Suddenly, the walls he’d been putting up not only to protect Beth, but also himself, didn’t seem all that dire anymore. However, he held his ground one more time, “Don’t know.”

“Don’t…” she imitated his mumbled response, teasing smile lighting up her face, “What changed your mind?”

The third time’s a charm, or so he was told, because Daryl lifted his eyes from his lap and answered silently. All the walls he’d built to hide who he was from Beth fell away. Instead of pushing down the endless expanse of calmness disguised as the taste of freedom, Daryl tugged it closer. He allowed it to overwhelm him. He allowed her to see the truth. With his soul cracked open, he let her see what he’d been hiding.

The smile melted from her face and with it his stomach dropped. Recognition dawned in her eyes and for a second, Daryl thought something had clicked. Then, while he held his breath, something odd happened. Beth’s eyes lost their light and seemed to glaze over, like a fog had taken over her mind momentarily.

She sat still and vacant long enough that Daryl leaned forward and touched her hand, “Beth?”

With a soft gasp and a jerk of her head towards him, Beth resurfaced. And all at once, Daryl was hit by a freight train. The muffled feelings of peace and calmness he always felt in his soul dreams amplified to an alarming rate. He sucked in a breath, trying to get his bearings as Beth’s eyes widened.

She gasped, like it was her first time breathing in air, “Daryl…”

Everything he thought he knew collapsed in on itself. Imploded. The once fragmented and broken connection he grasped onto only in his dreams, burned inside of him with the warmth of a thousand stars.

His Lyra. His Beth. It repeated as a mantra in his head. His paradox.

Beth turned her palm up in his hand, clawing at his forearm like her life depended on it. The shock and disbelief were so unlike anything he’d seen cross her face before. Tears gathered in her eyes and there was an urgency in her tone, “It’s you. You’re here. I can feel you.”

It took him too long to process what she said. Too long to pull himself out of the shock of being so violently and suddenly connected with her. Daryl hadn’t recognized what she said: You’re here. I can feel you. He hadn’t put two and two together. How she checked out. The fogginess in her eyes. Then, she suddenly reappeared as his Lyra.

Beth stood from her chair faster than he could blink. It scraped across the kitchen floor. Her hand tightened around his arm, tugging him to his feet, “I— There isn’t time. They’re here."

That’s when he heard it. The growling. The thudding. The vibrations shuttering the windows at the front of the funeral home. Then, came the pounding. The scratching of broken fingernails on wood paneling. His heart sunk, speeding up to an unnatural pace. His survival instincts thrummed through him. There was no time to process anything. All he could think was to get Beth to safety.

Daryl grabbed his crossbow, “Grab your pack. Gotta get to the road!”

She was breathing heavily, eyes wide in fear. Her hand shook as she clutched her knife, but she nodded. Daryl took off through the kitchen, navigating the dark hallways of the funeral home. Beth’s labored breathing was a sick rhythmic thumping in his ears. She hobbled along behind him, wincing on her messed-up ankle, but Daryl had no time to worry about it now. Once they were safe from the small horde at their door, then, he’d worry about it.

Even as he weaved through the house to the rickety side door leading to the side yard, he noticed the way Beth moved was different. Maybe, it could be chalked up to her busted ankle, but even so, she was slower on her feet. Clunkier. Louder. That wasn’t Beth. Something else was wrong.

A loud boom suddenly reverberated through the house as the walkers broke down the front door. Daryl felt Beth’s body flinch and gasp as he kept a tight grip on her. He hurled his body around the last corner and threw open the side door. His heart thudded in his ears, loud enough to cover up the sound of an approaching walker.

“Daryl!” Beth yelled, drawing away from it.

He didn’t have time to question Beth’s reversion to her once skittish nature. It was unlike her. She wasn’t the girl from the farm anymore. Wasn’t the girl from the prison either. What happened to the Beth who fought side by side with him? Who burned down a house with him? Where was the girl who made him see sense?

Where was his Beth?

Daryl lined up his mark. A swooshing sounded around them as he loosed his bolt into the oncoming walker. It hit with a squelch, right through the eye. He rushed forward, pulling his bolt out. A handful of walkers came around the side of the house, drawn by Beth’s scream.

He turned to her, gripping her shoulder to try and stun her out of whatever stupor she’d fallen into, “Run! Get to the road. Wait for me there.”

Beth shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks, “I can’t leave you.”

“Ya can,” Daryl shoved her forward and towards the smattering of trees that separated them and the road, “Go!”

She stumbled forward, looking back at him lost, anguished, and confused. Then, she ran. Her figure just disappeared into the shadows when the first walker descended on him. With the crossbow bolt still in his hand, he sunk it into the walker’s temple. It collapsed to the ground with a thud.

Daryl reloaded, the next two only a couple feet away. He aimed and fired, his bolt sinking into one as the other swiped to grab a hold of him. The growls intensified. The stench of death caving in around him. Daryl thrust his crossbow into the head of the next walker, successfully shoving it aside to make a hole he could break through.

And he ran, following Beth’s path through the trees. He dodged any stragglers. His soul motivation was getting back to her. When he weaved around a particularly large tree trunk, a walker came out of nowhere. It was only an obstacle, one separating him from her.

He planted his forearm against its chest and pushed with all his strength. The thing stumbled backward far enough for Daryl to unsheathe his knife and drive it up through the underside of its jaw. He yanked back his knife with a gurgle. Blood trickled down the knife and coated his fingers.

A surge of fear went through him, poisonous and gut wrenching, but it wasn’t his own. It was hers.

The way to the road was clear. So, Daryl ran all out. When he was only a few feet away, he called out, quietly, “Beth?”

The silence was deafening. It carved out a place in his chest, each piece more painful than the last. He used to crave silence. Now, it felt more like a death sentence than anything, because if she was dead… so was he.

He was about to call out her name again, a hail Mary in a fucked-up world, but suddenly, a hand darted out of nowhere. It gripped his forearm, clawing hard enough to bruise. Daryl spun, knife poised to sink into the throat of whoever had a hold of him, but then, Beth filled his vision. Relief barreled through him at the speed of light. He nearly slumped against the tree trunk she pulled him behind.

However, once the relief settled, he noticed the fear in her eyes and he remembered the jolt of panic he felt through their connection. Daryl opened his mouth to speak, but Beth clamped a hand over it. Her eyes were still wide and darted around over his shoulder. She lifted her pointer finger to her lips before jerking her head towards the road.

Something in Daryl hardened. He looked behind Beth to see the ambling shadows of walkers coming towards them still, but there was clearly something far more dangerous up on the road. Whatever Beth spotted couldn’t have been good.

He grabbed Beth’s wrist and removed her hand from his mouth. And that’s when he heard it. Underneath the distant growl of walkers, he heard the idling engine of a car. Daryl peaked around the tree just as two men stepped out onto the road. His eyes followed their every move.

One of them spoke just loud enough for him to hear, “Where are they?”

The other shrugged, “Might not’ve made it outta the house.”

“Bullshit. You didn’t hear that?”

The closer they got, the more Daryl’s chest constricted. Both men were wearing cop uniforms. They were armed and clearly had set a trap. He didn’t have time to wonder why and frankly; he didn’t give a shit. All he saw were two threats and a still working car.

The decision wasn’t hard to make. Fight or die.

 Daryl pulled Beth behind him, planting her against the tree. His finger went to his lips: stay quiet. Don’t move.

She nodded, but her bottom lip trembled. Daryl didn’t have time to comfort her or wonder about her change of demeanor. There was no time.

The cop’s footsteps echoed right by them. Daryl sunk into the shadows of the trees, completely silent as he went from tree to tree until he was flanking the two men. He noted the redtail lights of their vehicle and the white cross painted on the back window, but there was no time to think. He refused to let anything happen to Beth.

Daryl bled out of the shadows and onto the road. His crossbow loaded and ready. He aimed at the larger of the two men. Daryl’s conscious was clear as he pulled the trigger. The minute the bolt left his crossbow; he closed the distance to the other man.

Two things happened simultaneously. The man on the right dropped, a bolt lodged in the back of his head. However, despite the small victory, Daryl had underestimated the distance between him and the second man. He wasn’t able to close the gap fast enough to slit his throat.

The cop whirled on him, gun raised and pointed at his head. Daryl froze, gravel skittering underneath his boots. The cop barely acknowledged his downed partner, which only concerned Daryl more. In fact, he looked more emotionless than anything. The tall, pasty man with dark hair took a step towards him, “There you are. Where’s your friend?”

Daryl let his crossbow drop from his shoulder, praying Beth stayed hidden. His mouth twisted, staring down the barrel of the man’s gun, “Fuck you.”

In a split second, anger twisted the man’s features and he stalked toward him, gun still raised. Daryl didn’t move a muscle because the cop made a grave mistake coming closer. His hand went to grab for the knife at his hip, other readying to drop his crossbow and grapple for the gun.

However, his plan dissipated in an instant with a shout from the trees, “Stop!”

His hoarse voice erupted out of him, “Beth! Don’t!”

His heart dropped, his gut twisting in fear. Beth stepped out of the trees, hands up. Her wide eyes caught his and she mouthed something to him. I’m sorry. The cop never took his eyes off Daryl, but a grin curled his lips, “There she is. Nice of you to join us. Now… back to business.”

The cop put his finger on the trigger, ready to pull it. There were no more cards left to play. As much as he hated to admit it, Beth doomed them. If she had stayed hidden, he might have been able to make a move.

Suddenly, her voice shouted out in distress, “If ya kill him, ya kill me!”

Fuck. Fuck. No. No. Don’t let him know.

The man halted, but his gun still remained steadily pointed at his head. He looked between Beth and him like he was solving some kind of riddle. Then, something seemed to click and a deep, unnerving chuckle crawled out of his throat, “You gotta be fucking kidding me. You’re serious?”

He knew. He knew Beth was his soulmate.

Something far more sinister possessed the man as he said, “Oh, Gormon’s gonna love this.”

The last thing Daryl heard was Beth scream his name as everything went black.

His Lyra. His paradox.

Notes:

Cheers to our first Daryl POV chapter. This one was a lot more difficult to write than Beth's for many reasons. The soulmate aspect of this story does change Daryl's outlook a bit when it comes to closeness. He's still relatively reserved, but he's a lot more willing to share himself with Beth because of the inherent soulmate aspect.

Just like Beth, Daryl has his dreams. He's seeing a Beth he hasn't met before. I think he takes it as either a future version or even an idealized version of her. He finds it odd that there is no connection between him and Beth, but he chalks it up to constantly being in survival mode. He thinks it may come about later. However, as we see at the end, a connection is made but something oddly suspicious happens first. Then, Beth isn't acting like herself for most of the rest of the chapter. Something transpired, but we're not sure what yet.

So, as you guys can tell, the Grady arc will be happening, but not in the way you all might thing. Things are definitely going to be different. It's going to be a rollercoaster for sure. So, the end of the chapter is basically Beth pleading for Daryl's life by vaguely implying they're soulmates. I wrote about it briefly last chapter, but there are soulmates who die together because the pain is too unbearable to life without each other. Neither Daryl or Beth know if that's the case with them, but she said it as a last ditch effort to keep them both alive. It was actually a really smart play by Beth. She recognized the Grady cops set a trap for them, so they obviously wanted at least one of them alive. She played into that.

Also, we got a nod to the funeral home scene. I sort of combined two of them together to get a lead in into the soulmate connection. Plus, we get an explanation for the constellation Daryl is constantly seeing. Lyra, the embodiment of Beth. While Daryl's is Orion. Both seemed very fitting me. Each of those will come into play later.

I am going to keep the rest of the cards close to my chest lol! I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and I'll see you in the next! All the love <3