[fic] Empty Handed [2/5]
Title: Empty Handed [2/5]
Author: badboy_fangirl
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Characters/Pairings: Daryl POV; Daryl/Beth; with appearances by Glenn, Maggie, Rick, Abraham and the rest.
Word Count: ~3000
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 / Spoilers through all of season four.
Summary:
Author's notes: The premise of this fic is that after Daryl goes through some pretty heavy shit, he gets reunited with Beth. It won't be so much the action of what he goes through as the mental anguish. It picks up with that all-night run at the end of "Alone." Title and opening verses lifted from Lea Michele's song "Empty Handed."
Previous chapters: [1]
All I've ever known is how to hide a secret
But I'm tired of going on without believing
Mostly, following Rick or Abraham's lead is what gets him through it. When they finally escape Terminus, when they're back on the road, and headed for D.C., because why the hell not? all he can think about is the I Never game.
He leaves Georgia, for the first time, when he is 34 years old, and after he's been to hell and back. He's also come to the conclusion that no matter what he does from now on, there'll just be this gaping hole in his heart where she ought to be.
He even bargained with the Universe on that first night, when they were free again. Laying on the ground with nothing but starlight overhead, he made a vow to any power that might be listening that if he could just find Beth and know she was alive, that was all he needed. He didn't need her to be his girl, or even to think too fondly of him. He didn't need her to hold his hand, or keep trying to convince him that the way she saw the world was the better way to think, or even sing him songs that soothed him even while they riled him up.
All he needed was for her to be alive, and safe, and happy.
Maggie had, of course, eventually asked, and he told them all a condensed version of what had happened while he was with Beth. Sitting in a dark train car, unable to see anyone's eyes had made it easier, and they deserved to know. How Beth had saved him from himself, how Beth had been Hershel's daughter in every sense of the word, how Beth had survived on her own merit.
On the road north, sometimes on foot, sometimes in vehicles when they ran across some with gas, Daryl made note of each state they crossed into. Tennessee, Kentucky, Virginia. He doesn't know why it matters, why these are the things he's tucking into his back pocket, like if he ever gets lucky enough to see her again, what he'll say to her is, I've walked through Tennessee, Beth! and she'll giggle and take a swig, just for old times' sake.
Like they have "old times'" because of that stuff.
He's just fucked in the head now is all. This makes that time he hallucinated that Merle was in the woods behind Hershel's farm seem downright reasonable.
The day they cross into Virginia, they're in cars. It ends up just being him and Glenn in a pick-up truck while the rest of their group follows behind in two mini-vans and a Prius. (A fucking Prius, that had a nearly full gas tank, so it would end up going further than any of the cars they had.) The truck's engine is loud, but Glenn just shouts over it, talking about what, if anything, they'll find in D.C. and how he went on vacation there once when he was twelve. Daryl nods his head, but can't think of any questions to ask. He knows what the city looks like, he used to watch TV after all, but he never gave it much thought one way or another.
It's all crazy Eugene's (mental, know-it-all fucker) idea that there will still be some form of civilization there, even though they haven't seen a living person for 800 miles, but they have killed plenty of Walkers.
Daryl's just going where his family's going, still secretly bargaining with the Universe for Beth's safe return.
(He doesn't believe anything more than he ever did. She would be so disappointed.)
"Hey, man, can I ask you a question?" Glenn says, drawing Daryl's attention from the passing trees.
He looks over at his friend, his other brother, the only Asian guy he's ever known or spoken to in his entire existence, and nods his head. Once in a while Glenn wanted some philosophical discussion so he'd ask a question like, do you think it's wrong to bring children into this kind of world? and Daryl has to actually consider something he's never thought about, in any world. For the most part, they were short conversations.
"You...and Beth," Glenn says, his voice pitched very loud to come over the sound of the engine. "You, seem. I don't know, like, different since then."
Daryl's not sure what that means, so he deflects. Because he doesn't know, anyway. There's nothing to know, not with a gone girl. "You mean, I'm different since we lost the prison? Or since I lost Beth? Or since we got held hostage at a chicken factory and barely escaped with our lives? How'm I different, Glenn?" He sounds bitter, even to himself.
(He is fucking bitter.)
Glenn's gaze slides across the seat, but then skids away, and that makes Daryl feel worse. He's been carrying guilt that he hasn't had time to think about, but now, hours on the road and nothing but wide open spaces with periodic Walker-killing intervals leave him plenty of room to stew.
"Well," Glenn drawls with a mocking lilt to his raised voice. "You've gone back to Asshole Daryl who didn't know the difference between Chinese and Korean. You seem really angry, all the time. You just don't talk about it, like how you used to be in everyone's face, or trying to beat their heads in. But it's still pretty obvious."
Daryl glares at him across the seat. "Did you miss the part where I lost Beth?" he growls.
"That wasn't your fault," Glenn says.
"Right. Whose fault is it?"
"Daryl--"
"No. Just shut up. I don't need a pep talk. I don't need anyone trying to make me feel better. It doesn't help, it just reminds me that there was one time, when a ray of light broke through, and I fucking ruined it."
The rumble of the engine is the only sound after that, for a long time, and Daryl unhappily goes back to staring out the window.
Abraham passes them when they find a clear spot without a lot of slowly rotting cars; in fact, Daryl starts to notice that the places where there are cars alongside the road, they are alongside the road, pushed off the main drag.
Like someone moved them.
Abraham signals with his hazard lights and then drives off the pavement, causing Glenn to follow as well as the other two vehicles further behind them.
Glenn kills the engine, and Daryl reaches for the handle, pushing open the door with a groaning creak. Glenn's voice is hushed now, infinitely quiet when he says, "If she's still alive somewhere, that's your fault. Because you helped her get strong enough to survive."
Daryl's hand clenches on the cool metal under his fingers. "No," he says as he slides out of the truck. "That's why I'm still here, because she helped me. That's the only reason I'm still here. Because I owe her."
He slams the truck door hard, and doesn't look back. It's time to track some supper.
Peach Schnapps. Is it good?
He usually wakes up because he can hear her voice. He sleeps away from the group, some twenty feet or so, just because he knows he'll come to with a gasp and they can't help but ask if he's okay.
He's not fucking okay, and he probably won't ever be, and there's just no point in talking about it.
When they escaped from Terminus, they'd gone for the bag of guns Rick had buried, and Daryl had forgotten that he'd stuck Beth's bag in there, too. It was the only thing he had ever put any sentimental value on, and Rick hadn't questioned him when he shoved it inside. He had also handed it back to him the day they got out without a word.
Sometimes he pulls the stuff out and looks at it. A notebook with blank pages. A jar of grape jelly. Some girl stuff she must've found in one of the bathrooms they looted. Chapstick. Tampons. Wetwipes. A pen.
There's one other thing in there that he pulls out every day and rubs between his thumb and forefinger. He's not sure if it's because he thinks it's some kinda good luck or something, but he hadn't found it in the bottom of her bag until they'd already decided to come north.
Until D.C. had been their chosen destination. Then he found a spoon in what he thought was an empty zipper pocket in her bag. The spoon had the White House engraven on it as well as the words Washington, D.C.
Daryl doesn't believe in signs, but, you know, if he did, this would probably be one.
(Right?)
He almost showed it to Maggie one day when he heard her telling Glenn a story about Beth from their childhood, but he couldn't quite bring himself to share it. It probably wouldn't amount to anything, so only he could be disappointed when it didn't.
No point in dragging anyone else into it.
The sun's first rays are breaking through as he rubs his thumb over the ridges on the dip of the spoon. He closes his eyes and tries to fall back to sleep, tries to let her voice be a lullaby.
He can't recall the song though, just her words. Her words don't bring any peace.
I remember. When that little girl came out of the barn. After my mom. You were like me. And now God forbid you ever let anyone get too close.
The closer they get to D.C., the more obvious it is that civilization does still exist. In fact, it looks like the nation's capital had been preserved and protected. Walls have been erected, reminding Daryl of Woodbury, but it's Abraham who points out, "If there was any place to be protected, it would have been here. The President. The Constitution. Our origins. It's all there."
Then he slaps Eugene's back and shouts, "Mission accomplished!"
Daryl and Rick exchange cynical glances, but continue forward. A sign tells them that Washington is still fifteen miles ahead.
Fifteen miles worth of walls? And nothing but National Guard had come through Georgia, most of them killing anything that moved, Walker or not? Rick had only heard the horror stories, of course, because he'd been in a coma, but Daryl had his own first hand experiences. He and Merle had just been too slippery to get caught up in it.
After everything, Daryl can imagine them getting to the gates, wherever they might be, and dropping Eugene, Abraham, and Rosita off while the rest of them did God knows what. Maybe they'll just keep driving to Canada (or what once had been Canada); he just can't imagine that they'll willingly walk inside walls that high.
They might never come out, and none of them choose that type of death. He knows they're all choosing something, but that seems the least popular.
When they do get to the gates, wrought iron with plenty of space between them, allowing them to see inside, Abraham and Rick get out of their cars and approach the guards on the other side.
Daryl and Glenn sit tensely in their truck, its engine rumbling even louder somehow. When Rick comes back to tell them what's happening, the relief on his face makes Daryl's stomach coil tightly. "They said they've slowly been rebuilding. There is a check-in point a mile or two up the road, and facilities with running water and electricity. They managed to keep about a 100 square miles blocked off."
"What about Walkers inside?" Daryl asks.
"They have a task force assigned to monitor any who die, as well as anyone who might turn before someone realizes they've died."
"Can we leave if we want?" Glenn asks.
"Yes. They want us to come in a get registered--they're basically trying to account for all people who haven't died or turned, but it's up to us."
Daryl doesn't buy it, so he just says, "Terminus."
"No, Daryl," Rick quickly argues. "It's not. It's really not. Abe's going in with or without us. I think we should go in. I do," he says when Daryl's expression remains skeptical.
"This'll sound crazy, I know," Glenn says, and Daryl turns his head to look at him. "But I've had this good feeling about it, all along, ever since I found Maggie. My dad was born in D.C. It's like it's a sign, you guys. Going back to my roots. He left after he graduated high school, because the crime was really bad and everything, but what if? What if this is a fresh start?"
Daryl takes a deep breath, the imprint of the White House phantomly dancing across his fingertips. Maybe Beth is dead, gone to wherever Hershel is, and maybe this is what she's doing now. Being a Guardian Angel, guiding them where they need to go.
Beth would be really good at a job like that. She'd be all beautiful and shit, and it hurts his heart to even think of it, but it's a fleshed out fantasy that pops behind his closed lids.
When he opens his eyes again and looks at both Glenn and Rick, he's made up his mind.
They're going to Washington.
They get ushered to a public building where everyone is supposed to go when they first arrive. They walk inside and see a few people milling around, some standing in lines designated by the alphabet. Signs read A-D Line Up Here and E-H Line Up Here with arrows pointing down to windows where people stand behind counters typing information into computers. It goes all the way down one long wall to U-Z which has nobody in line.
What changed your mind?
It feels normal. It's a distant and vague memory for Daryl, but he can remember going to the Health Department with his mother when he was a kid, getting shots for school, and then later, going by himself when he'd been bit by a dog and one of his teachers had told him he ought to get a tetanus and a rabies shot. His daddy woulda never said that to him, woulda probably been glad if he died of some crazy infection so he wouldn't have to feed him anymore, but Daryl survived then, just like he's survived now.
He's standing in the "A-D" section, waiting to give his name and whatever else they want when Maggie gets up to the window in the next line over. "Greene," she says. "G-R-E-E-N-E. Margaret Victoria Greene." She pauses, and he hears a soft sound precede her question. "Is there a way to look for other people? I mean, I have a sister -- if she were here, her name might be in your system, right?"
He can't hear the lady on the other side of the window, but he sees her nod, and her lips move. "Yes," Maggie says. "Same last name. Katherine Elizabeth. She goes by Be--"
There is a scream, something that causes all the people in the room to turn towards the sound. It's Maggie's name, but it's something else, entirely. It's primal, and terrifying, but Daryl welcomes it because it feels like it's the first time in months that his heart has actually beat against his breastbone for any reason other than fear.
Beth steps out of a door on the far end of the bank of windows, just past the "U-Z" sign. She's wearing weird clothes, something Daryl can't quite process because she looks so much older in the white blouse and black slacks, but she leans down to rip the high heels she's wearing off her feet, tossing them violently aside. Then she runs towards her sister, the way they had once run from the prison, as fast and as hard as they could.
He wants to call out to her, to caution her to slow down, because she's going to knock Maggie over when she gets to her, but it all happens too fast for any real words to be uttered. Maggie starts to move just about the time that Glenn reaches out a hand as Beth flies past the "Q-T" section where he's standing. The girls meet in the middle somewhere, laughing and crying, falling to the floor in a heap, and everyone just stands there, watching it happen.
Slowly, the rest of their group eases over to the sisters. Glenn first, but Sasha and Bob, Carl and Michonne. Rick. Even Tara, who didn't know Beth, but has heard so much about her, tentatively makes her way closer. Daryl's the only one who is frozen in place, who should move, who should be laughing and crying just as much as everyone else.
What changed your mind?
Sound ceases to penetrate his ears, and everything seems to slow down, like he's watching the action sequence in some movie from a million years ago when anything like that mattered. Beth is hugging everyone, and everyone is hugging each other, and he sees Rick look around for him. Their eyes meet and Rick motions to Daryl, his mouth opening and words like, "Come here!" coming out, even though he doesn't really hear them. But when Rick yells his name and Beth's head jerks up, her arms around Carl at that particular moment, everything stops. There's no movement at all; no slo-mo, no heartbeats, even. It's just silent and static and blue eyes.
Then she shoots across the space dividing them, slamming into his chest the way she had into Maggie, but Daryl stays standing.
His feet remain solid beneath him, the way they always do when it comes to Beth.
What changed your mind?
"You," he finally says. "It's you."
Beth's arms are tight, constricting around his neck. "It's me," she whispers.
...chapter three...
Author: badboy_fangirl
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Characters/Pairings: Daryl POV; Daryl/Beth; with appearances by Glenn, Maggie, Rick, Abraham and the rest.
Word Count: ~3000
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 / Spoilers through all of season four.
Summary:
Author's notes: The premise of this fic is that after Daryl goes through some pretty heavy shit, he gets reunited with Beth. It won't be so much the action of what he goes through as the mental anguish. It picks up with that all-night run at the end of "Alone." Title and opening verses lifted from Lea Michele's song "Empty Handed."
Previous chapters: [1]
All I've ever known is how to hide a secret
But I'm tired of going on without believing
Mostly, following Rick or Abraham's lead is what gets him through it. When they finally escape Terminus, when they're back on the road, and headed for D.C., because why the hell not? all he can think about is the I Never game.
He leaves Georgia, for the first time, when he is 34 years old, and after he's been to hell and back. He's also come to the conclusion that no matter what he does from now on, there'll just be this gaping hole in his heart where she ought to be.
He even bargained with the Universe on that first night, when they were free again. Laying on the ground with nothing but starlight overhead, he made a vow to any power that might be listening that if he could just find Beth and know she was alive, that was all he needed. He didn't need her to be his girl, or even to think too fondly of him. He didn't need her to hold his hand, or keep trying to convince him that the way she saw the world was the better way to think, or even sing him songs that soothed him even while they riled him up.
All he needed was for her to be alive, and safe, and happy.
Maggie had, of course, eventually asked, and he told them all a condensed version of what had happened while he was with Beth. Sitting in a dark train car, unable to see anyone's eyes had made it easier, and they deserved to know. How Beth had saved him from himself, how Beth had been Hershel's daughter in every sense of the word, how Beth had survived on her own merit.
On the road north, sometimes on foot, sometimes in vehicles when they ran across some with gas, Daryl made note of each state they crossed into. Tennessee, Kentucky, Virginia. He doesn't know why it matters, why these are the things he's tucking into his back pocket, like if he ever gets lucky enough to see her again, what he'll say to her is, I've walked through Tennessee, Beth! and she'll giggle and take a swig, just for old times' sake.
Like they have "old times'" because of that stuff.
He's just fucked in the head now is all. This makes that time he hallucinated that Merle was in the woods behind Hershel's farm seem downright reasonable.
The day they cross into Virginia, they're in cars. It ends up just being him and Glenn in a pick-up truck while the rest of their group follows behind in two mini-vans and a Prius. (A fucking Prius, that had a nearly full gas tank, so it would end up going further than any of the cars they had.) The truck's engine is loud, but Glenn just shouts over it, talking about what, if anything, they'll find in D.C. and how he went on vacation there once when he was twelve. Daryl nods his head, but can't think of any questions to ask. He knows what the city looks like, he used to watch TV after all, but he never gave it much thought one way or another.
It's all crazy Eugene's (mental, know-it-all fucker) idea that there will still be some form of civilization there, even though they haven't seen a living person for 800 miles, but they have killed plenty of Walkers.
Daryl's just going where his family's going, still secretly bargaining with the Universe for Beth's safe return.
(He doesn't believe anything more than he ever did. She would be so disappointed.)
"Hey, man, can I ask you a question?" Glenn says, drawing Daryl's attention from the passing trees.
He looks over at his friend, his other brother, the only Asian guy he's ever known or spoken to in his entire existence, and nods his head. Once in a while Glenn wanted some philosophical discussion so he'd ask a question like, do you think it's wrong to bring children into this kind of world? and Daryl has to actually consider something he's never thought about, in any world. For the most part, they were short conversations.
"You...and Beth," Glenn says, his voice pitched very loud to come over the sound of the engine. "You, seem. I don't know, like, different since then."
Daryl's not sure what that means, so he deflects. Because he doesn't know, anyway. There's nothing to know, not with a gone girl. "You mean, I'm different since we lost the prison? Or since I lost Beth? Or since we got held hostage at a chicken factory and barely escaped with our lives? How'm I different, Glenn?" He sounds bitter, even to himself.
(He is fucking bitter.)
Glenn's gaze slides across the seat, but then skids away, and that makes Daryl feel worse. He's been carrying guilt that he hasn't had time to think about, but now, hours on the road and nothing but wide open spaces with periodic Walker-killing intervals leave him plenty of room to stew.
"Well," Glenn drawls with a mocking lilt to his raised voice. "You've gone back to Asshole Daryl who didn't know the difference between Chinese and Korean. You seem really angry, all the time. You just don't talk about it, like how you used to be in everyone's face, or trying to beat their heads in. But it's still pretty obvious."
Daryl glares at him across the seat. "Did you miss the part where I lost Beth?" he growls.
"That wasn't your fault," Glenn says.
"Right. Whose fault is it?"
"Daryl--"
"No. Just shut up. I don't need a pep talk. I don't need anyone trying to make me feel better. It doesn't help, it just reminds me that there was one time, when a ray of light broke through, and I fucking ruined it."
The rumble of the engine is the only sound after that, for a long time, and Daryl unhappily goes back to staring out the window.
Abraham passes them when they find a clear spot without a lot of slowly rotting cars; in fact, Daryl starts to notice that the places where there are cars alongside the road, they are alongside the road, pushed off the main drag.
Like someone moved them.
Abraham signals with his hazard lights and then drives off the pavement, causing Glenn to follow as well as the other two vehicles further behind them.
Glenn kills the engine, and Daryl reaches for the handle, pushing open the door with a groaning creak. Glenn's voice is hushed now, infinitely quiet when he says, "If she's still alive somewhere, that's your fault. Because you helped her get strong enough to survive."
Daryl's hand clenches on the cool metal under his fingers. "No," he says as he slides out of the truck. "That's why I'm still here, because she helped me. That's the only reason I'm still here. Because I owe her."
He slams the truck door hard, and doesn't look back. It's time to track some supper.
Peach Schnapps. Is it good?
He usually wakes up because he can hear her voice. He sleeps away from the group, some twenty feet or so, just because he knows he'll come to with a gasp and they can't help but ask if he's okay.
He's not fucking okay, and he probably won't ever be, and there's just no point in talking about it.
When they escaped from Terminus, they'd gone for the bag of guns Rick had buried, and Daryl had forgotten that he'd stuck Beth's bag in there, too. It was the only thing he had ever put any sentimental value on, and Rick hadn't questioned him when he shoved it inside. He had also handed it back to him the day they got out without a word.
Sometimes he pulls the stuff out and looks at it. A notebook with blank pages. A jar of grape jelly. Some girl stuff she must've found in one of the bathrooms they looted. Chapstick. Tampons. Wetwipes. A pen.
There's one other thing in there that he pulls out every day and rubs between his thumb and forefinger. He's not sure if it's because he thinks it's some kinda good luck or something, but he hadn't found it in the bottom of her bag until they'd already decided to come north.
Until D.C. had been their chosen destination. Then he found a spoon in what he thought was an empty zipper pocket in her bag. The spoon had the White House engraven on it as well as the words Washington, D.C.
Daryl doesn't believe in signs, but, you know, if he did, this would probably be one.
(Right?)
He almost showed it to Maggie one day when he heard her telling Glenn a story about Beth from their childhood, but he couldn't quite bring himself to share it. It probably wouldn't amount to anything, so only he could be disappointed when it didn't.
No point in dragging anyone else into it.
The sun's first rays are breaking through as he rubs his thumb over the ridges on the dip of the spoon. He closes his eyes and tries to fall back to sleep, tries to let her voice be a lullaby.
He can't recall the song though, just her words. Her words don't bring any peace.
I remember. When that little girl came out of the barn. After my mom. You were like me. And now God forbid you ever let anyone get too close.
The closer they get to D.C., the more obvious it is that civilization does still exist. In fact, it looks like the nation's capital had been preserved and protected. Walls have been erected, reminding Daryl of Woodbury, but it's Abraham who points out, "If there was any place to be protected, it would have been here. The President. The Constitution. Our origins. It's all there."
Then he slaps Eugene's back and shouts, "Mission accomplished!"
Daryl and Rick exchange cynical glances, but continue forward. A sign tells them that Washington is still fifteen miles ahead.
Fifteen miles worth of walls? And nothing but National Guard had come through Georgia, most of them killing anything that moved, Walker or not? Rick had only heard the horror stories, of course, because he'd been in a coma, but Daryl had his own first hand experiences. He and Merle had just been too slippery to get caught up in it.
After everything, Daryl can imagine them getting to the gates, wherever they might be, and dropping Eugene, Abraham, and Rosita off while the rest of them did God knows what. Maybe they'll just keep driving to Canada (or what once had been Canada); he just can't imagine that they'll willingly walk inside walls that high.
They might never come out, and none of them choose that type of death. He knows they're all choosing something, but that seems the least popular.
When they do get to the gates, wrought iron with plenty of space between them, allowing them to see inside, Abraham and Rick get out of their cars and approach the guards on the other side.
Daryl and Glenn sit tensely in their truck, its engine rumbling even louder somehow. When Rick comes back to tell them what's happening, the relief on his face makes Daryl's stomach coil tightly. "They said they've slowly been rebuilding. There is a check-in point a mile or two up the road, and facilities with running water and electricity. They managed to keep about a 100 square miles blocked off."
"What about Walkers inside?" Daryl asks.
"They have a task force assigned to monitor any who die, as well as anyone who might turn before someone realizes they've died."
"Can we leave if we want?" Glenn asks.
"Yes. They want us to come in a get registered--they're basically trying to account for all people who haven't died or turned, but it's up to us."
Daryl doesn't buy it, so he just says, "Terminus."
"No, Daryl," Rick quickly argues. "It's not. It's really not. Abe's going in with or without us. I think we should go in. I do," he says when Daryl's expression remains skeptical.
"This'll sound crazy, I know," Glenn says, and Daryl turns his head to look at him. "But I've had this good feeling about it, all along, ever since I found Maggie. My dad was born in D.C. It's like it's a sign, you guys. Going back to my roots. He left after he graduated high school, because the crime was really bad and everything, but what if? What if this is a fresh start?"
Daryl takes a deep breath, the imprint of the White House phantomly dancing across his fingertips. Maybe Beth is dead, gone to wherever Hershel is, and maybe this is what she's doing now. Being a Guardian Angel, guiding them where they need to go.
Beth would be really good at a job like that. She'd be all beautiful and shit, and it hurts his heart to even think of it, but it's a fleshed out fantasy that pops behind his closed lids.
When he opens his eyes again and looks at both Glenn and Rick, he's made up his mind.
They're going to Washington.
They get ushered to a public building where everyone is supposed to go when they first arrive. They walk inside and see a few people milling around, some standing in lines designated by the alphabet. Signs read A-D Line Up Here and E-H Line Up Here with arrows pointing down to windows where people stand behind counters typing information into computers. It goes all the way down one long wall to U-Z which has nobody in line.
What changed your mind?
It feels normal. It's a distant and vague memory for Daryl, but he can remember going to the Health Department with his mother when he was a kid, getting shots for school, and then later, going by himself when he'd been bit by a dog and one of his teachers had told him he ought to get a tetanus and a rabies shot. His daddy woulda never said that to him, woulda probably been glad if he died of some crazy infection so he wouldn't have to feed him anymore, but Daryl survived then, just like he's survived now.
He's standing in the "A-D" section, waiting to give his name and whatever else they want when Maggie gets up to the window in the next line over. "Greene," she says. "G-R-E-E-N-E. Margaret Victoria Greene." She pauses, and he hears a soft sound precede her question. "Is there a way to look for other people? I mean, I have a sister -- if she were here, her name might be in your system, right?"
He can't hear the lady on the other side of the window, but he sees her nod, and her lips move. "Yes," Maggie says. "Same last name. Katherine Elizabeth. She goes by Be--"
There is a scream, something that causes all the people in the room to turn towards the sound. It's Maggie's name, but it's something else, entirely. It's primal, and terrifying, but Daryl welcomes it because it feels like it's the first time in months that his heart has actually beat against his breastbone for any reason other than fear.
Beth steps out of a door on the far end of the bank of windows, just past the "U-Z" sign. She's wearing weird clothes, something Daryl can't quite process because she looks so much older in the white blouse and black slacks, but she leans down to rip the high heels she's wearing off her feet, tossing them violently aside. Then she runs towards her sister, the way they had once run from the prison, as fast and as hard as they could.
He wants to call out to her, to caution her to slow down, because she's going to knock Maggie over when she gets to her, but it all happens too fast for any real words to be uttered. Maggie starts to move just about the time that Glenn reaches out a hand as Beth flies past the "Q-T" section where he's standing. The girls meet in the middle somewhere, laughing and crying, falling to the floor in a heap, and everyone just stands there, watching it happen.
Slowly, the rest of their group eases over to the sisters. Glenn first, but Sasha and Bob, Carl and Michonne. Rick. Even Tara, who didn't know Beth, but has heard so much about her, tentatively makes her way closer. Daryl's the only one who is frozen in place, who should move, who should be laughing and crying just as much as everyone else.
What changed your mind?
Sound ceases to penetrate his ears, and everything seems to slow down, like he's watching the action sequence in some movie from a million years ago when anything like that mattered. Beth is hugging everyone, and everyone is hugging each other, and he sees Rick look around for him. Their eyes meet and Rick motions to Daryl, his mouth opening and words like, "Come here!" coming out, even though he doesn't really hear them. But when Rick yells his name and Beth's head jerks up, her arms around Carl at that particular moment, everything stops. There's no movement at all; no slo-mo, no heartbeats, even. It's just silent and static and blue eyes.
Then she shoots across the space dividing them, slamming into his chest the way she had into Maggie, but Daryl stays standing.
His feet remain solid beneath him, the way they always do when it comes to Beth.
What changed your mind?
"You," he finally says. "It's you."
Beth's arms are tight, constricting around his neck. "It's me," she whispers.
...chapter three...