Keep Holding On ♥

[Elixir]

Beth Greene; The Innocent , #ffcc99

Beth could see the gentle rays of sunlight peeking through her window, that of which was slowly starting to seem a bit aged. She opened up her sky blue irises, and they turned to gaze towards the streams of light passing through her bedroom. She could see the tiny specs of dust floating about the air as she gazed upon the sight, and she slowly turned over on her bed after a couple moments. She couldn't help the feeling of not wanting to get up, especially after all that had happened. However, she had made a silent promise to herself after the exchange of words she and Daryl shared.

She wanted to honor her family's memory, rather than "shit on" it.

After letting out a gentle groan, Beth slowly sat up on her mattress. Her arm stung a little from where she had slit through the skin, probably due to the fact that she hasn't applied any disinfectant. That was the least of her worries, however. She knew that she'd probably be dead right now if it wasn't for the makeshift tourniquet that Daryl made, and she gave herself an internal reminder to swallow her pride and thank him for it. Now that she was less frustrated and enraged, she could calmly look at the situation through his eyes. The fact that he returned to a gruesome scene such as that probably shocked him.

She could still remember the tears in his eyes whenever he first picked her up out of the bathtub.

I really should thank him when I get the chance.. She thought to herself, letting out a sigh as she raked her fingers through her silken blonde hair. He did come back, after all. She pursed her lips together as she gently nodded to herself, finally gathering up the strength to get up and off of her bed. Due to the fact that she hasn't eaten in what felt like forever, she almost fell back over once she got back on her feet. After wobbling for a moment, she leaned up against the wall for support. She had never felt so weak in her entire life, and she knew that a meal was probably what she needed most right about now. That, and a first aid kit. I wonder where dad kept our spare.. She thought to herself. It was moved from her bathroom; more than likely, it was in the bathroom in the master bedroom downstairs. She made a small note to herself to check the cabinets there later after grabbing a bite to eat.

Slowly but surely, Beth made her way down the stairs, grabbing the rail tightly in order to steady herself. A couple times, she almost felt like she was going to fall over. She didn't know if it was because of all the blood she lost, the food she hasn't eaten, or both, but she felt like a hollow shell. Soon enough, she made her way into the kitchen, and she was greeted by the sight of Abigail and Daryl. She caught the end of their conversation, that of which was Daryl commenting on the fact that the two of them weren't eating. "This is the damn apocalypse. I'm stuffin' myself 'till I die." He finished off his statement, and Beth simply entered the room silently afterwards. She watched as Daryl raided the fridge, taking out some leftover casserole that her mother had made. It was from a few nights ago, the night just before the walkers arrived at their doors. She didn't speak as she watched Daryl from just past the corner of the entrance, noticing him pushing the meal aside.

She couldn't help but smile.

"Good morning," she called out to them both, meeting the stare of the young Abigail. "Good morning, Miss Beth," she spoke, wiping away at her tear stained cheeks. Beth saw this, and it made her chest ache a little. In a way, she couldn't help but see herself in the small girl. Offering her a small smile, she made her way over to her, kneeling beside her where she sat in one of the chairs at the dining table. "You can just call me Beth, sweetie," she spoke to her kindly. As if responding to Beth's warm expression, the small girl couldn't help but smile. "I don't have that much of an appetite, neither, but we gotta eat somethin'. How 'bout we all share the yummy casserole my mama made?" She offered, showing Daryl a kind glance. "She made a hefty servin', like always. I'm sure there's enough to share between us three. That woman always made enough to feed an army," she let out a small laugh, genuine, but with a hint of sadness behind it.

"I can make somethin' else to go with it. We should have a couple of things to put together, right?" Beth began as she began rummaging through the cabinets.

"Any ideas?" She asked, offering Daryl a small smile as she gazed over at him.

Her expression was slightly apologetic, as well as forgiving.

​

 

[moffnat]

Daryl Dixon; The Archer, #234a21

The small look of apology was thwarted by the festering frustrations corrupting Daryl's heart, and he turned from Beth the instant their eyes made contact. He snagged a box of cereal and shoved a bowl on the counter, so loud that the porcelain threatened to break under his burdened anger. He pried open the cardboard and dumped Cheerios into the abused pale bowl, snatching the milk from the fridge and spilling the contents around the crispy circles. Daryl remained silent as he seated himself at the table, breakfast in hand, digging in without so much as a second glance to the recovering teen.

If she thinks a look'll count as an apology, she's dumber than I thought.

Cautiously, the small girl looked to Beth and bit her lip. "...could we have pancakes, Miss Beth?"

"Can't make 'em without a griddle." Daryl leaned back in the chair and the wood groaned under his weight, clearly of no concern to him. "Power ain't comin' back."

"Ever?"

"Ever."

Abigail looked significantly disappointed, which stung in the slightest bit, but Daryl made no move or phrase to try and fix the situation. He munched unhappily at the cereal and eyed the two girls only briefly, struggling in his mind to figure out what the hell they were supposed to do. Three people in a world of the dead, a young child and teenage suicide risk? It was hopeless. He had half a mind to leave them to their own devices if doing so wouldn't absolutely guarantee their gruesome demise. Daryl still felt like he owed something to Hershel after only knowing him for so little time. It was odd, how tilling the outer fields for pumpkin seeds was the most of his worries less than forty-eight hours prior to eating cereal in the circle of hell.

"I'll eat what you eat," Abigail decided at last, sliding off the chair to move into the kitchen, following Beth's every shadow. It was clear to Daryl that she had more intentions of letting Beth lead her than a redneck brute, and he couldn't blame her. If anything, it solidified the negativity in his soul.

Let 'er pout. This is luxury compared to the shit we're about to face.

 

[Elixir]

Beth Greene; The Innocent , #ffcc99

Beth couldn't help the sting that came with Daryl turning away as soon as their eyes met. He's still pretty mad, ain't he? She thought to herself, though she knew that making up with him definitely wasn't going to be that easy. She was simply trying to lighten the mood, showing that she wasn't mad at him anymore. However, he didn't seem to take too kindly to that. With a sigh, she listened to the two exchange words. It seemed Abigail wanted pancakes, but, judging from her surroundings, it seemed that Beth's house no longer had power. They'd have to deal with meals that didn't require cooking. With pursed lips, Beth continued to look about the cabinets, following Daryl's lead in the whole idea of cereal. That along with the leftover casserole would make a weird, but nutritious enough breakfast.

"I'll eat what you eat," Beth heard the young girl speak out, and soon she joined Beth in the kitchen. Like an adorable little shadow, she followed Beth's every movement, and this warmed her heart significantly. She's so sweet, she couldn't help but think as she gently patted the top of her head. In a way, it was as though Beth gained a little sister. Being the youngest in her family, she never knew what this felt like. For a moment, she began to wonder if this is how Maggie saw her.. Beth found herself wanting to protect Abigail and keep her safe, as well as healthy with any type of good food they had. The thought of how Beth didn't appreciate such gestures while they were there brought a distinct sense of pain and loneliness to her heart, that of which made her expression fall. Abigail noticed it quickly.

"Are you alright?" She asked, her tone innocently concerned. Catching herself, Beth immediately perked up her features, knowing that now wasn't the time to fall back into depression again. She had already decided not to dishonor her family's memory, though saying was much easier than doing. She knew she couldn't back down, though, so she went ahead and showed Abigail the casserole. "This is what my mama made," she showed, and Abigail's face lit up with curiosity. "What's in it?" She questioned, her gaze flickering between the food and Beth's face. "It's chicken, veggies, and tons of other good stuff." She stated, and then thought about the food situation. "How about we have this for lunch, and we have a bowl of cereal now?" She suggested, and Abigail nodded obediently in response.

"I love cereal!" She declared, forcing a smile upon her youthful lips. "Chicken is yummy, too. I hate peas, though." She stated, making a 'yuck' face at the thought of it. There were peas in the casserole, though, so Beth wagged a finger at her. "Gotta eat your veggies. No being picky durin' times like these, alright?" She began, taking on a tone almost like that of her mother's. It seemed almost as though everything happening right now was flashing her back to times Beth didn't appreciate, but now she was grateful towards more than ever. An almost sad smile came over her face as she thought about this, but she quickly perked it back up again before Abigail noticed. Beth found herself wanting to give the small girl the same treatment her family gave her, especially now that nobody else was around to do so.

With that thought in mind, Beth slowly made her way over to where the milk rested beside Daryl. She grabbed out two bowls as well as the cereal, pouring the dry contents into a bowl before reaching for the milk once more. She flashed a look at Daryl from the corner of her eye, pursing her lips together as she thought about something to say. Taking in a deep breath, she began pouring the milk over the crispy circles, only starting to speak after she put the cap back on the carton.

"Thank you, Daryl." She began, turning to face him. It took all the courage she had to do so.

"I'm sorry for everythin' that happened, and.. Thank you for savin' me."

The look in her eyes was nothing less than sincere.

​

 

[moffnat]

Daryl Dixon; The Archer, #234a21

Daryl ignored the exchange between teen and child, more focused on angrily shoving Cheerios down his throat than anything else. The food was almost more than his stomach could handle. With the stress of everything that had happened, of the looming death hanging over their heads and the eminent downfall of everything they had ever cherished, Daryl thought he would sooner regurgitate the cereal rather than keep it down for any substantial period of time. Thankfully, he was proven wrong and he finished the small meal with no lack of emptiness in other places to conquer the small relief of a full stomach.

Still, Beth's words surprised him.

"Thank you, Daryl. I'm sorry for everythin' that happened, and.. Thank you for savin' me."

A thanks, it was all that he'd wanted. It was more than that though, it was an admittance that she failed, that he had done all he could, a recognition that Daryl had so rarely received in his life. He froze where he sat, the empty bowl before him forgotten momentarily as he lifted his eyes to meet the innocence of Beth Greene's baby blues. Her face was serene and sincere and there was nothing he could do to be angry at her anymore.

The memory still remained. But he would be damned if it couldn't sit side-by-side with her smile.

"...yeah," he replied, looking down into the emptiness of his bowl. "Yeah." A long pause, fluttered in awkward silence that said everything and voiced nothing. "Just don't do it again. Don' be stupid."

"She's not stupid, Uncle Daryl."

"I told you not to call me that." He rose from the chair rather quickly and put his dishes in the sink, more of a habit than anything, and looked to the teen who had a grip on him like he'd yet to experience. She reminded him of something, someone, perhaps in a distant memory or a dream from his long lost childhood, but the struggle to find the angel's source was lost in the calm sea of her eyes and he was chained to her mystery once again.

"Gotta check that cut," he grunted out after a few more moments. "We should get some shit packed in case we have to make a run for it."

Daryl would think about anything to keep from looking at her too long.

 

[Elixir]

Beth Greene; The Innocent , #ffcc99

Beth looked over towards Daryl in anticipation, hoping and praying that he'd say something in response to her sincere apology and words of gratitude. After a while, she heard him mutter words of acknowledgement as he turned his gaze down towards the emptiness of the bowl before him. The slightly awkward silence was all Beth needed, for she knew that her apology was accepted now. He didn't ignore me.. And he responded in a calm manner. That means I'm forgiven, right? She thought to herself, her smile growing more warm and gentle as she continued to gaze at him. "Just don't do it again. Don' be stupid." He stated, and this almost made Beth laugh. Rather than a noticeable giggle, she let out a small breath, shaking her head in response. Before she could get a word out, Abigail's voice resonated through the space.

"She's not stupid, Uncle Daryl."

Uncle Daryl? Beth wondered, her eyes gazing over towards Abigail curiously upon her statement. "I told you not to call me that." Daryl went on in response, leaving Beth almost clueless as to what to say. Is she really his niece, or did she just say that to acknowledge him as her elder? Beth questioned in her mind, flashing Daryl a small look as she walked over and handed the bowl of cereal to Abigail. Beth sat with her at the table, beginning to munch on her meal as Daryl continued speaking. "Gotta check that cut," he began, causing Beth to look down at the makeshift wrap she had over her arm. "We should get some shit packed in case we have to make a run for it." He continued, though this statement brought a more solemn expression to Beth's angelic face. The thought of having to leave the farm she grew up on made her heart ache, though she was beginning to realize the world they were now living in. No power, and hardly another sane human being for miles, it seemed.

Was this what hell was like?

No, it can't be.. Beth thought as she looked into Abigail's innocent and bright eyes as she ate her cereal contently. Beth also turned to look over at Daryl, taking in his strong and masculine features. She felt safe with him; that she couldn't deny. He saved her, he came back for her, and he's continuing to take care of them both. The more Beth realized this, the more she felt the desire to become someone he could rely on, too. She got the feeling that Daryl would absolutely hate the idea of turning to anyone for help, but just in case there was a day when he had to.. Beth found herself wanting to be there. With this thought in mind, one of the sweetest beams spread across her lips, and she let out yet another breathy laugh. Quickly, she finished up her bowl of cereal, soon standing up and placing it in the sink.

"I think we have a first aid kit somewhere in the house," Beth began as she looked down at her injured wrist. "We always have spares. I think it's probably in my parents' bathroom." She stated, starting to make her way over to the master bedroom. She looked all around the space, taking note of how dusty it was becoming. There were small splatters of blood on the sheets over the mattress, probably the product of whenever her mother was attempting to make an escape. Beth found herself running her fingers across it, her entire aura screaming loneliness and longing. I'm sorry, mama.. Beth thought, allowing her hand to continue to trace along the fluffy comforter. She had a small flashback of all the times when she was a kid. She'd run in this room early in the morning whenever she still woke up before her mother did.

Her mother's memory was still so vivid in her mind.

Beth kept wishing that her mother's figure was still there; that she was still hiding under the covers, pretending to be asleep at times, only to surprise Beth by jumping out, grabbing her torso, and bringing her under the covers with her.

After but a moment of reminiscing, Beth continued towards her task at hand.

First aid kit, first aid kit.. She repeated in her mind as she began to search her parents' bathroom.

​

 

[moffnat]

Daryl Dixon; The Archer, #234a21

Daryl had purposefully been hiding his right hand from Beth since his return, hoping she wouldn't comment or inquire too closely and keep all focus on her own recovery. He had suffered worse physical wounds than shattered knuckles and would continue to suffer them, especially now that the world was smothered in death. His pains were nothing. He would learn to push through them as he always had.

The archer followed Beth into the master bedroom, leaning against the door frame as she sifted through her family's belongings in search of what they were looking for. All of her little pauses, replaying memories that haunted her mind no doubt, her sighs and her groans of frustration, he heard them all and watched them unfold, never taking his eyes from her form. Beth briefly reminded him of himself, once. Long ago in another life, in a time before reality swarmed in. Daryl was mildly surprised that he remembered what that felt like.

"Aren't you gonna help?" Abigail asked in a sweet little voice, peering up at him.

"Nah," he replied, lifting his right hand off his chest. "Don't know what good one hand'll do."

"That looks icky."

"Yeah," he chuckled. "Feels icky."

"I guess I can help Miss Beth then." Abigail skipped into the room and began searching through things, and Daryl found that for a moment he wished to be alone with Beth before the child came along.

"I'm gonna get some shit together," he said then, distracting himself from staring at the girl any longer. "In case we have to make a quick leave, you know."

"But your hand--"

"S'fine. Take care of the first aid, I'll get packed."

He left the room then without another word, swallowing the small lump in his throat.

 

[Elixir]

Beth Greene; The Innocent , #ffcc99

Beth could faintly hear the conversation occurring between Abigail and Daryl, but she wasn't close enough to them to really make out the words they were saying. Besides, she had another task at hand. Upon rummaging through the cabinets and drawers a little more, she finally came across the first aid kit. "Bingo!" She exclaimed proudly as she picked it up. Abigail soon came up beside her, looking over towards the plastic box. "Is that it?" She questioned innocently, and Beth nodded. "Yeah, this is the first aid. With this, we can help in healin' some wounds we have," Beth explained, and Abigail nodded. The most she probably knew about first aid were band aids she got whenever she scraped her knee, which Beth couldn't help but find endearing.

It stung a little, for she knew that innocence couldn't last in this world.

"Alright, let's go find Daryl," Beth stated, and Abigail nodded. Together, the two left the master bedroom, and Beth caught Daryl's figure out of the corner of her eye. She turned towards him, a small smile on her face. "We found the--" she began, but her words came to an abrupt halt as she noticed the purplish hue over Daryl's knuckles. She caught a glimpse of it while he was picking something up, seemingly with the intent of packing it somewhere. "Daryl, your hand--" Beth began, her eyes flickering between the swollen lump of flesh to his ruggedly handsome face. "You need this more than I do!" She exclaimed, bringing the box over to the counter and opening it. Inside were wraps, some alcohol wipes, neosporin, band aids, butterfly stitches, and more.

"We have some wraps in here. D'ya think it'll help if we wrap that hand of yours up?" She questioned, her pale blue gaze bouncing between the contents of the first aid kit and Daryl's figure. With a small smile, Beth took out one of the towels they used to use to clean the dishes, handing it over to Abigail. "Can you do me a favor and soak that with some water? Even though the power is out, the water should still be working." She requested kindly, and Abigail obediently obliged. "Right away, Miss Beth," she stated as she grabbed the towel and scurried off towards the nearest bathroom. Soon after, Beth turned her gaze back towards Daryl. With a small, sweet smile, she nudged her head towards the first aid kit. "Let's get that hand of yours taken care of, okay?" She began, her gaze flickering towards the bruised skin.

"How.. How bad is it? How did you even hurt it like that?" She couldn't help but ask, her expression sincerely concerned. Her eyes almost seemed to reflect her want to help him and make him better, for, though she didn't know how he hurt his hand, she knew that he wasn't one who liked being held back. The quicker they helped it heal, the quicker he could go back to being his usual self without any annoying discomforts.

"Are you okay?"

​

 

[moffnat]

Daryl Dixon; The Archer, #234a21

"I'm fine," he replied to her many questions, gritting his teeth as she insisted on examining his wound. He held it above his heart to keep the blood from pooling there, knowing full well that she would be intuitive to that purpose. He hoped she had some knowledge of medical skill, having come from a man who made it his primary source of employment, but if not Daryl was perfectly capable of tending to his own wounds. He had been doing so since he'd taken his first beating and would continue to do so throughout the remainder of his life.

He didn't want to think about how short that time might be.

"Smashed it on the pavement," he told her through a scowl, watching her every move as she prepared the medical tools. "I went to go find my brother up at the prison, but it was overrun. Exploded. I was so damn pissed..."

He turned his eyes to the window as if the prison itself lay just beyond it and he was witnessing the destruction all over again. "The dead were everywhere, it was hopeless. For some reason I thought hittin' the concrete would make it better. Rage can do odd things to ya.

"That's where I found that thing." He pointed to Abigail with his free hand.

"Hey!" she shouted indignantly. "I'm not a thing!"

"She said she was meetin' her dad. My brother. Apparently I have a niece I didn't even know about."

"You take that back!"

"After that I drove back here to check on you, only to find more dead things. World's gone to shit, girl. Ain't no stoppin' it now." Hesitantly, he held his hand out to her.

"We should probably leave tomorrow. Get out of here before those things come further inland."

 

[Elixir]

Beth Greene; The Innocent , #ffcc99

Beth knew a bit on how to treat a swollen and injured hand. She sent Abigail to go wet a towel with water due to the fact that they didn't have any ice. The water was cold anyways, which was what they needed. Normally, you'd apply a pack of ice to the wound to reduce the swelling, but they had to deal with what they had. Beth caught a glimpse of Daryl raising his hand out of the corner of her eye, which made her smile. She was glad he knew to do that, for keeping the wound elevated also helped. Though, they didn't have enough materials to make a splint or cast of any sort. I suppose wrapping it up will be the best alternative, huh? She thought to herself as she took out some wraps. After cleaning it up a bit, we'll just have to go with that to keep it immobile. She nodded to herself.

With this in mind, she listened to Daryl's responses to her questions.

"Smashed it on the pavement," he began, "I went to go find my brother up at the prison, but it was overrun. Exploded. I was so damn pissed..." Beth listened as he went on, noticing his thousand-yard-stare as he gazed out of the window. Beth's expression softened as she listened to him, not speaking a single word until he was finished answering. "The dead were everywhere, it was hopeless. For some reason I thought hittin' the concrete would make it better. Rage can do odd things to ya." He stated, and soon Abigail returned with the dampened towel. She smiled at Beth, but before she could announce her return, Daryl made a gesture towards her. "That's where I found that thing." He spoke, and Abigail responded with an adorable huff.

"Hey!" she shouted, clearly offended. "I'm not a thing!"

"She said she was meetin' her dad. My brother. Apparently I have a niece I didn't even know about."

"You take that back!"

Though it was no laughing matter, Beth found herself smiling gently at their bickering. She cleared her throat after she caught herself, though, forcing her face to straighten out once more as she listened to Daryl go on. "After that I drove back here to check on you, only to find more dead things. World's gone to shit, girl. Ain't no stoppin' it now." He stated, and she watched as he cautiously held his hand out to her. With a smile, Beth gestured for Abigail to come over to them. Stubbornly, she handed the towel to Beth, crossing her arms immediately afterwards. Beth could hear her grumbling slightly to herself, clearly annoyed with the way Daryl treated her. Despite her young age, Beth could tell she wasn't one to take Daryl's attitude in the slightest. She's a little firecracker, ain't she?

With a smile, Beth shook her head from side to side as she let out a content sigh. "Like family already," she spoke under her breath, too low for anyone to hear unless they were paying close attention. It was then that Beth opened some of the packets of cleansing wipes from the first aid kit. "This might sting a little, but bear with me," she began, taking a look at the grotesque wound. It appeared like he had tried to clean it before, but he didn't quite go about it the right way. It looked irritated and red, and Beth could only imagine the pain that came with it all. At least he kept it from getting infected, she thought with a shrug. "Here," she began, slowly and softly rubbing the wipe across his skin. Because of the alcohol in the wipe meant to strip the wound of harmful bacteria, it would probably sting a bit upon contact, but Beth knew Daryl was a big boy.

Once she was done cleaning the wound, she took the towel Abigail had wet for her. Now that the wound was cleaner, she could place the fresh towel across it without worry. "We don't have any ice, so this is the next best thing. It should help reduce the swelling." She stated with a smile. "After a while of that, maybe we can wrap it up with this," she gestured towards the wraps she laid out. "We don't have any splints or anythin' to make a cast, so I guess we'll have to deal with just wrapping it up like that. Or, maybe we can find some small pieces of wood or somethin'?" She suggested, though she didn't fancy the idea of just putting random branches against his already open and vulnerable wound. With a sigh, she shrugged. "I dunno. I'm not a professional," she laughed as she hooked some of her blonde hairs behind one ear.

"Thank you for the help, Abigail," she spoke to the young girl with an affectionate, endearing tone. She gently patted her head, and a sweet smile came across the young girl's face. She seemed to be attempting to pull back the smile out of stubbornness, still unnerved by Daryl's treatment, but Beth knew she cheered her up a little bit.

"As for the packing, try not to use that hand to do any lifting," Beth spoke, her eyes more requesting the gesture from Daryl rather than ordering. One could tell from her gaze alone that she was speaking out of concern. "I'll help out. My wrist may be hurt, but my hands are fine." She stated, taking a small moment to look out the window. The thought of leaving the farm she grew up in was agonizing.

Still, she knew that the world that they all in now didn't tolerate any nostalgia such as that.

They would have to leave eventually.. If they wanted to survive.

​

 

[moffnat]

Daryl Dixon; The Archer, #234a21

Daryl blinked at Beth as she ran at the mouth, saying little things about his wounds and addressing Abigail as she saw fit, though the archer himself focused on little of it. He bit his lip when the anti-bacterial substance met his open wound, and he was sorely reminded that he had suffered pain much worse than this, but that did not stop the burn from making his mind scream. I really fucked it up, didn't I? He looked down to his black and blue knuckles with a grim frown one last time before Beth wrapped it gingerly in a soothing towel, taping it closed with packing tape and Scotch. He wondered for a moment if she had any experience with wounds before. Daryl supposed not.

She's luckier than she knows. Even now.

"As for the packing, try not to use that hand to do any lifting," Beth spoke, and for the first time in several minutes Daryl lifted his head in attention. "I'll help out. My wrist may be hurt, but my hands are fine."

"Fine," he agreed. "Don't pop those stitches, though. I worked hard on those. My finest work."

It was halfway a joke, and he hoped she would see it as such.

The three spent the remainder of the morning and the afternoon packing the necessities, any non-perishable foods and utensils, things needed for basic survival. For once, Daryl was thankful for his extensive knowledge on the subject. He directed the two girls toward what was useful and what was not, what they would certainly need and what was better left behind. They ate what remained salvageable in the fridge and filled at least a dozen empty water bottles with fresh liquid from the home they were likely never to see again. Daryl did what he could with a hand as bad as his, keeping it above his heart so the blood would not infect him further. He could only hope he wasn't tainted as it was.

It's a miracle that she's here, I guess. Daryl looked up to her briefly, met her eyes, and turned away again in hopes that she hadn't noticed his staring.

"We could stay another night here," he decided at last. "Just one. I don't wanna drive at night with those things walkin' around." Daryl gave a glance out to the half-tilled fields where Hershel had wanted the pumpkins planted, and frowned to know that within the week, the dead would trample all over his work.

Gotta take every night of safety while we can.

 

[Elixir]

Beth Greene; The Innocent , #ffcc99

Beth tended to Daryl's wounds as gently and carefully as she could, trying her very best not to hurt him more than he already was. Like she suspected he would, Daryl just gritted his teeth and took it like a champ. Still, Beth couldn't help but feel a little bad as he winced upon the impact. It must hurt a lot, she thought to herself as she pursed her pale pink lips together. She hoped that the coolness of the dampened towel would soothe it a bit.

Once she was done fixing Daryl up the best she could, she listened to his response about how they should go about packing. Thankfully, he agreed to give his hand a break. "Fine," he began in that husky tone of his. "Don't pop those stitches, though. I worked hard on those. My finest work." He stated, and Beth could tell that he was taking a more lighthearted tone to it. Laughing it off, she nodded in agreement. Instead of responding with something witty or slightly sarcastic like she normally would to a joke like that, she simply smiled towards him warmly. "Thank you," she spoke in gratitude again, offering him a helpful reminder on how she appreciated his work.

Beth followed along in Daryl's footsteps as they began packing up the essentials. She listened to him intently as he spoke all about what was needed and what wasn't, taking all of the information and storing it in her mind's memory bank. He knows an awful lot about this subject, doesn't he? She couldn't help but think as they gathered up what was salvageable. Abigail continued to follow after Beth like an adorable little shadow, and Beth couldn't help but smile at this. In a weird way, Abigail was truly starting to feel like the little sister Beth never had. She was always the youngest, so having that kind of presence was definitely new. She wasn't against it, though.

"Is that it, Miss Beth?" Abigail questioned in her light, innocent voice as they finished packing everything up. With a warm beam, Beth patted Abigail on the head gently in praise. She stroked her light brown locks as she nodded down towards her. "Yep! I think that's about it. You were such a wonderful helper, Abbie," Beth spoke, and she noticed the young girl's lips curve upwards modestly.

Soon after that, Beth looked over towards Daryl. Their eyes met for a brief moment, though he looked away rather quickly. Beth couldn't help but wonder why he always did that, though she figured it was best not to pester him about it. "We could stay another night here," he began, and Beth once again offered him her full attention. "Just one. I don't wanna drive at night with those things walkin' around." He stated, and Beth's sky blue eyes slowly narrowed. One more night left here, huh? She thought solemnly. I'm gonna have to say goodbye to all this tomorrow... She realized, and her gaze glued itself to the floor absently at the thought.

I'm gonna miss this place so much. She let out a sigh.

"Yeah, that sounds alright," she spoke after a moment, offering Daryl a smile. It was clearly fake, but she knew she couldn't act like a little baby anymore. If they wanted to survive, it was beginning to be clear that they'd have to keep moving. Staying in one place for too long meant coming across walkers, and that was something Beth definitely wanted to avoid as much as possible. She's never been one to look for trouble, and she wasn't going to start with it now.

In the corner of her eye, Beth noticed the small shadow behind her letting out a yawn. Her eyes were slightly droopy, and Beth didn't need to be a mother to know what that meant. "Are you tired, Abbie?" Beth questioned with a small giggle, though the answer was already obvious enough. With a silent nod and a rub at her eyes, Abigail confirmed Beth's suspicions. "I'm gonna go put her to bed," Beth stated towards Daryl, offering him a small brief parting smile as she led Abigail upstairs.

"You can go ahead and sleep upstairs in my bedroom," Beth spoke, and Abigail looked up towards her in questioning. "Are you sure, Miss Beth? Isn't that your room?" She asked, and Beth waved her hand in dismissal. "Don't worry about it, kiddo. It's alright. My bed has always been one of the softest in the house, anyways. You deserve a nice rest after how much you helped out today," she stated, and Abigail obediently got under the covers draped over Beth's mattress. In an actual motherly fashion, Beth tucked in the delicate soul, gently brushing some of her stray hairs away from her youthful features. "Sweet dreams, Abigail," Beth spoke in a kind, soothing tone. With a sweet smile, Abigail nodded once more before allowing her eyes to flutter shut.

With that, Beth made her way back downstairs to meet back up with Daryl. "I never did check on my wrist, huh?" She realized with a small, breathy laugh. She then went back into the kitchen where the first aid kid rested. "Do you know how to clean a wound around these stitches?" She questioned, her eyebrows slightly furrowed in displeasure at the thought. This is gonna burn, isn't it? She thought in dismay. She took out some cleansing wipes and another wrap, though she didn't exactly know how she was supposed to treat a large slit like her own. Broken knuckles was one thing - a large, stitched slit like this was a whole different deal.

"Care to help?" She grinned softly as she let out a slightly nervous laugh, shrugging helplessly.

​

 

[moffnat]

Daryl Dixon; The Archer, #234a21

Daryl watched Beth chat to herself and the young Abigail, content to stay silent the entire time until the blonde angel graced him with her presence once more. She was certainly a bullheaded little thing, even in the short time he'd known her. Beth had gone from attempted suicide to determined survival in less than two days, which Daryl found both admirable and painfully familiar. He cleared his throat and looked away as Beth reentered the room, though his eyes were drawn when she spoke to him again.

"Care to help?" she asked, gesturing to her stitches.

"Yeah. I know a good deal 'bout that stuff. Come 'ere." He held out his hands and waggled his fingers towards himself, gesturing for Beth to move closer. When she obliged, he patted the couch beside him and didn't move again until she sat where he'd silently asked.

"Don't wanna disturb the stitches now," he told her in a low voice, cautious that Abigail was trying to sleep. "Gotta be gentle but still thorough. Trust me, I've done this a hundred times." Daryl took her soft arm in his and brought it close to him, inwardly admiring the texture of it.

She's like a dove or something, he thought, and swallowed hard.

"You, uh. Gentle, like I said." Daryl took the rag in his spare hand and wet it with a decent amount of antiseptic. "It's gonna hurt."

He gave her no warning, and applied the medicine with little pressure on her wound.

"Shhh," he whispered to her as he knew she would cry out. "Girl's tryna' sleep up there. This'll only take a minute." Daryl held her arm in his hands while he delicately spread the sanitizing medicine over her wound, no longer trying to instruct her on what to do should something like this happen again when he wasn't around.

For some reason, he had taken her injury entirely upon himself to nurse.

Partly because he new how to take care of it better.

Mostly because he felt a deep and unwavering pang of guilt.

 

[Elixir]

Beth Greene; The Innocent , #ffcc99

Beth smiled hesitantly as she obediently walked over to him, responding to his finger gestures with a nod. She sat beside him as he so silently instructed, placing the first aid box beside him. Once she was settled, she allowed him to take her arm in his hands, taking note that this was the first time they've actually touched for longer than a few seconds.

Is he going to do it himself? She wondered as he told her about what he was doing in a low, cautious voice. She continued to simply nod at him in reply to all that he said, watching how he examined her arm with such intent. She pursed her lips together, nervous about the burn that was to come.

"It's gonna hurt." Daryl warned her, though she still winced and let out a cry upon impact. "Shhh," he spoke to her in a rough murmur, informing her that Abigail was trying to sleep upstairs. "I-I know," she stammered out in pain as her hands made a small fist over the soft cushions. With each dab of antiseptic, she could feel her body jumping and tensing up, each dab hurting more than the last.

She let out a helpless whimper as she subconsciously grabbed onto the hem of Daryl's shirt, her ivory fingers clasping onto it in desperate search for solace and comfort. Her eyes shut tightly, her brows furrowed, and her lips pursed tightly together.

God, that stings, she thought to herself as she allowed Daryl to complete his handiwork. He didn't speak another word as he continued to treat her, only her muffled whimpers filling the air around them. She opened her eyes for a moment, making the mistake of looking at the wound upon her wrist. Her eyes were slightly watery from the pain, for she wasn't as used to it in comparison to Daryl. He was able to grit his teeth and bear with it, as he had seemed to be able to for quite a while, on the other hand Beth used to always have the issue of just eating her greens like her mother had asked.

Her heart felt heavy with guilt and regret.

I should have just ate the dang broccoli instead of giving her such a hard time.

A single tear fell down Beth's porcelain cheek, and she let go of Daryl's shirt for just a moment to wipe it away. Afterwards, she gently placed her hand on his forearm, giving it a small squeeze with each wave of pain that coursed through her as he cleaned her self inflicted wound. She was already regretting doing what she did, for though it seemed so justified in the moment, she knew that she was definitely wrong. In a way, she tried to do what Daryl did—grit her teeth and bear with it—for this pain was only half of what she felt she deserved.

It's alright, Beth. Just a little while more, and it'll be over.

​

 

[moffnat]

Daryl Dixon; The Archer, #234a21

All of Daryl's instincts told him that her contact was completely unacceptable, that she was making him incredibly uncomfortable and the touch was far from anything he considered desirable or wanted. Still, something tugged at the pit of his stomach to indulge her as she whimpered. He continued with the work on her wounded forearm and tried to keep his expression neutral at the sounds and sights of her pain which, for reasons he couldn't decipher, were hard for him to witness.

"Almost done," he informed her quietly as he began the final swipes, prepping the scar for a genuine wrapping. Daryl was surprised at the tenderness he expressed when treating her--had hadn't expressed the same generous kindness before in life, not even to himself.

"It's, uh...not infected," he stated to relieve the bizarre silence, pressing a smooth piece of gauze against the stitches and beginning to wrap it with the proper material.

"Good thing. Those things can get nasty. Had one before, a blood infection...they're, uh. Definitely not fun."

Slowly, he let go of her arm and tossed the dirty bandages aside. Daryl placed a hand atop hers where it rested on his skin, lifting it slowly as if returning a gift back to her, and he placed it in her lap.

"Does that feel any better?" he asked, scratching the side of his neck rather awkwardly. "I got some meds for the pain, too. My brother kept a stash out in the truck. Only if you need it though, might wanna save that stuff..."

Daryl cast his eyes over to the boarded up window in an absence of anything to say, thinking about how only days ago the glass was swung wide open to allow a fresh summer breeze into the warm house. The wind would softly stir Mrs. Greene's lacey curtains and make them flutter about. He wondered if Beth was thinking something similar, or if her memories were more stuck to events rather than objects, like birthday parties or lazy Sundays.

She has so many memories in this house, I'll bet. So many memories that I don't even know of, never experienced for myself.

"You lived here your whole life?" he found himself asking.

 

[Elixir]

Beth Greene; The Innocent , #ffcc99

Beth nodded in response to Daryl stating that he was almost done, allowing relief to wash over her like a tidal wave. Thank the heavens, she thought to herself as he traded the rag of cleansing doom for a proper wrap and gauze. She let out a sigh of contentment once he pressed the gentle fabric to her wound, taking that subtle discomfort over the severe burn from the antiseptic any day.

After Daryl told her about how it was a good thing that her wound wasn't infected, she turned her gaze of sky blue back towards his own of a similar, but slightly darker hue. "Thank you, Daryl," she spoke to him sincerely just before he took her hand in his own. Her eyes flowed from their joint palms and then back to his eyes, her heart swelling slightly from the contact. When did I grab him? She wondered, for she hadn't realized that she did. He placed her hand oh so gently back into her lap, almost as though she was a fragile piece of glass. The gesture almost made her brows want to furrow out of how many emotions that made her feel at once, though she tried her very best to keep on a neutral, soft expression.

"Does that feel any better?" He questioned with a awkward rub to the back of his neck, and this made Beth smile as she assured him with another nod. He offered her some medication that he apparently had stashed in his truck, but Beth agreed with the fact that they should probably save it for a more crucial time. "No, thank you," she spoke with a polite shake of her head. "I think I'll be alright."

With that, silence settled in between the two. She watched as his eyes wandered about the boarded windows, as did hers. She was actually thinking about the same thing Daryl was—how they used to always be wide open, welcoming the sweet summer breeze as it came and went. She could remember her mother sitting on the couch and just gazing out towards it, her father sitting in his chair and reading his newspaper contently nearby. It used to be so welcome, so bright, so serene and tranquil..

Now? This place seemed like anything but that.

"You lived here your whole life?" Daryl asked her, catching her slightly off guard. "What?" She found herself questioning out in surprise, for she was completely zoned out by the memories rushing back to her. However, she soon realized that definitely wasn't a proper response. Offering Daryl a delicate smile, she nodded towards him.

"Yeah, I've lived here for as long as I can remember," she beamed towards him kindly. "Ever since I was a little girl.." Beth couldn't help but let out a slightly saddened sigh. What made the gesture even more heart wrenching is that she kept a smile on her face the entire while, trying her best to keep herself from crying. No more tears, Beth, she told herself internally.

You need to be stronger.

"I used to always cause mayhem with Maggie on the farm, constantly letting the animals out because we figured they wanted to play," she let out a helpless laugh and shrugged. "As we got older, she'd get mad at me because she became more "responsible" while I still enjoyed being a little mischievous. Still, most of the time, it'd always end in laughter as we chased chickens around the yard," another sweet, yet miserable giggle escaped her, for she knew that things like that were never going to happen again. Finding the subject growing a little too painful for her to bear, she decided to take this chance to inquire more about the mysterious man before her.

"What about you?" She asked him with a curious smile, her eyes gaining a subtle gleam.

"Have you lived here in Georgia your whole life?"

​

 

[moffnat]

Daryl Dixon; The Archer, #234a21

All of her words made sense. Daryl supposed in hindsight it was a stupid question, as Hershel had said that the Greene family had owned the spacious spit of land for nearly a century. Am I just lookin' for an excuse to talk to 'er? he thought with a mildly shocked expression.

What the hell's wrong with me?

"What about you?" Beth asked sweetly. "Have you lived here in Georgia your whole life?"

"Unfortunately yeah," he replied, suddenly interested in the dirt beneath his nails. "Hate it here, though. Always have. My brother an' I were gonna high tail it outta here and go up to another state, but we never got the chance. He's gone now. Things're different." Daryl looked over to the blonde at his side, gesturing with his chin to a picture of her and her father hanging up on the wall.

"You got good memories here?" he asked rhetorically. "Good. Keep 'em. It ain't worth it keepin' the bad ones around, trust me."

If she even has any bad memories. Seems like 'er life 'as been peaches n' cream out here. I'd be damn surprised if it was anythin' other than that.

Daryl glanced down to the softness of her hands and knew she'd barely seen any hard labor, which made him smirk, but he also found envy resting underneath it all. He had never known the softness of a pure touch, never thought about it, never wanted it. But the memory of her grip just moments ago made the depths of his soul consider otherwise, and it made him entirely uncomfortable.

I should probably let her get some sleep.

"Listen, if I'm botherin' you by bein' 'ere I can let you get your rest. We'll, uh. Leave pretty early tomorrow. If you want, we can stop by somewhere on the way outta town to see if there's anythin' else we might need when we--"

"Help! Help, help me!" came a distant shout.

Daryl instantly shot to his feet.

 

[Elixir]

Beth Greene; The Innocent , #ffcc99

Showing her genuine interest, Beth smiled softly towards Daryl as he answered her question. Because he was a man of very few words, it only captivated her more when he did speak. He's lived here in this state his whole life, too, huh? she thought as she rested her face in the palms of her hands, her elbows perched up on her legs. There was an intrigued a gleam in her eyes that definitely wasn't there a moment ago as she gazed over at the ruggedly handsome Daryl.

Perhaps it was because she finally felt like she was getting to know him, even if it was only bit by bit.

After telling her more about him and his brother, Merle, Daryl looked back at Beth and gestured his chin over to a portrait of her and her father hanging upon the wall. She turned to look towards it, her face falling with the most bittersweet nostalgia. "You got good memories here?" she looked back towards him as he asked a question he already knew the answer to. "Good. Keep 'em. It ain't worth it keepin' the bad ones around, trust me."

Beth offered Daryl another one of her innocent and sweet beams. He's a lot nicer than he lets himself come off as, she thought to herself—a thought that has visited her many times before. "Thanks, Daryl," she spoke to him in gratitude once more, her smile only growing brighter as silence flew past them again. She took note on how he glanced towards her hands, that of which made her look down towards them, as well. Is there something on them? she wondered as she glanced between their smooth, ivory texture and Daryl's oceanic blue eyes. Just as she was about to ask if anything was wrong, Daryl spoke out again.

"Listen, if I'm botherin' you by bein' 'ere I can let you get your rest. We'll, uh. Leave pretty early tomorrow. If you want, we can stop by somewhere on the way outta town to see if there's anythin' else we might need when we--"

"Help! Help, help me!" came a voice Beth didn't recognize. She jumped to her feet just as Daryl did, her eyes wide with shock.

"That's a person!" she exclaimed as she made her way over to the door, taking a look through the peep hole as the man outside began banging on the wood. "He's not one of the undead! They don't speak right? Let's help him!" Beth's eyes were desperate as she turned to look back at Daryl. She didn't know why, but now that she knew that people left and right were becoming walkers, she wanted to help as many true humans as she possibly could.

"Hold on!" she called out to the man as he continued banging on the door and crying out for help. She took another look through the peep hole, able to make out about three walkers closing in behind him. "Oh, God," she let out a breath. "There's three out there with him," she turned to look back at Daryl, her brows furrowing with immense apprehension.

"Daryl, we can't just leave him out there! What do we do? I-I don't have a weapon, and I—Gosh, I've never even used one!"

​

 

[moffnat]

Daryl Dixon; The Archer, #234a21

"Don't matter," he ground out with a tightened jaw, rummaging through the living room until he retrieved the weapon he was looking for. "You find somethin', you swing. Simple. And don't you dare get bit." Daryl took a hastened moment to load the crossbow and cradle it in the proper position, only stopping when finished to retrieve a butcher knife from the kitchen stash. He slammed it atop the counter in a rush.

"Just in case." He shot her a look that showed his intentions and the pleas that came with them.

If I die, pick up the knife, take the girl and run.

Though, he knew they wouldn't last long without him.

"Hold on man, we're comin'!" Daryl tore out the nails and bolted-up wood that barred the front door, and when his crossbow was prepared to fire he turned the knob and threw it wide open. The snarls grew louder and the breeze barreled in. The first arrow shot right through the eye of the closest walker and Daryl bludgeoned another with the metal of his weapon, using it as a club until he got the chance to reload. When he was certain the undead assailant wouldn't get up again, Daryl lunged forward and buried a spare arrow in the skull of the remaining attacker, and all in a flash the outdoors was silent again.

Three corpses littered the Greene's porch, along with the panting body of the lone survivor.

"Shit, man," he said as he put a hand over his thundering chest. "Those things been chasin' be for a whole damn day."

"You bit? How many were there?"

"No, they didn't touch me...at least a hundred at first, maybe more, but I shook 'em off and just kept runnin' 'till it was down to these three..." The stranger supported himself on the side of the house as it was becoming hard for him to stand, an expression of agony and weary travels laced in his ebony features. Daryl knew he was telling the truth. I've seen that type of expression before.

"...y'all got any water in there?" came the innocent inquiry.

"Yeah," Daryl replied with a frown. "Food, too. C'mon. Get inside."

"Thank you, man. Ma'am," he said to Beth. "Thank you so much."

Daryl gave an anxious look around the property for a moment before moving back inside the house, closing the door and reapplying the barricades.

We may have to leave sooner than I planned.

 

[Elixir]

Beth Greene; The Innocent , #ffcc99

I-I.. I find something, I swing, Beth repeated after Daryl in her mind and nodded rapidly towards him, but her uncertainty and doubt was clearly revealed in her worrisome expression. As soon as he slammed a butcher knife from the kitchen on the counter, she looked at him with eyes even broader and wider than before. "D-Daryl?" she stammered out, panicked.

"Just in case."

Beth didn't even want to think about it. What he was implying was clear in his expression, and the thought gave her shivers. With furrowed brows, she tried to swallow down all of her nervousness as she took the knife in hand.

"Okay," she spoke in a shaky breath, readying herself as Daryl removed the barricade.

She watched as he removed the boards and nails with haste, reassuring the man outside that help was on the way. It's okay, Beth, the blonde haired girl tried to offer herself some internal reassurance. Daryl's with you.. Nothing's gonna happen. He's strong, she nodded, though she shivered as soon as the breeze carrying the growls and snarls of the undead outside blew in.

You need to be strong, too!

However, despite her mental reassurance, there wasn't any need for Beth's efforts. Daryl took care of the walkers easy enough, and Beth couldn't help but look away whenever he slammed a spare arrow into the skull of a walker with his bare hands. "Oh, God," Beth breathed as she shut her eyes tightly. Why does it feel like Daryl was made for somethin' like this? she couldn't help but think as she looked back at him, her expression twisted with dread and horror—not towards him, but towards the situation as a whole. Once the gnarls of the undead came to an abrupt halt, she allowed her face to soften up again as she let out a sigh of relief.

The dark chocolate skinned man and Daryl exchanged a few words, though Beth wasn't paying too much attention at first—that was, until she heard the fact that the man seemed to have been running from over a hundred of those monsters. "A-.. A hundred?" she repeated, her eyes going wide once more whenever she realized that at least half of those things must be nearby or at least in the area. Thinking about this almost made Beth tremble, so she wrapped her arms around her slender figure in an attempt to keep that from happening.

I don't want to lose anyone again. What's going to happen to us? To Abigail? To me?

To Daryl?

As the man they saved thanked Beth, she just looked at him and nodded, though one could tell by the distant look in her eyes that her mind was elsewhere. She tried her best to snap herself out of it, though, as she gave her cheeks a gentle tap. Get a grip, Beth, she shook her head back and forth softly. You made a vow, remember? You need to be stronger.

This.. This is the world you live in now. You need to learn to deal with it if you plan on surviving.

"What, um.. What would you like?" She spoke to the man as she entered the kitchen along with him. He immediately began searching the fridge and cabinets, desperate for some nourishment, but still seeming to try and be polite about it. "Anythin' would be nice right about now," he spoke with an awkward rub to the back of his neck. With a small smile, Beth grabbed some cheerios that they still had, poured some milk over it—leaving just enough in the carton for one more bowl—and handed it and a spoon to him. "Here you go," she offered, and he took it from her gratefully.

"Thank you, ma'am. Thank you," he repeated his words of gratitude, offering her a flash of his pearly whites as he began munching on the sugary circles almost as though he hasn't eaten for days. "I'm Kevin, by the way," he began, "Kevin Sherman."

"Beth Greene," she introduced herself, keeping her forced smile plastered across her pale pink lips.

"You're welcome. I'm glad we could help."

​

 

[moffnat]

Daryl Dixon; The Archer, #234a21

"The house all locked up?" Daryl asked rhetorically, checking every door and window on the lower level for signs of weakness or an opening that might give. When he fixed what was worth fixing and found no other errors, he returned to the couch in the living room, blowing out a few candles to dim the lighting. "We should probably get some rest and get out of here as soon as the sun's up. I don't wanna be in an area where I know those things're walkin' around."

"Don't blame you," came Kevin's reply. "Nasty things. Thanks so much for helpin' me again, not many people are so considerate these days."

Daryl hesitated. "What makes ya say that?"

"Ran into a group of janky white dudes, killin' people for their supplies. Takin' women. 'Claiming' what was theirs. Fucked up, really. I had to haul ass from them too when they saw I had this." From the band of his jeans, Kevin retrieved a Glock 19 and held it in his hands like a trophy. "These things are the currency of the realm now, I guess."

"Keep that with you. You'll need it." Daryl stretched out along the couch and crossed his ankles, folding one arm behind his head and letting his other rest across his eyes. "I'm gonna get some sleep. Tomorrow we'll head north until...shit, I don't know. I don't know anythang anymore. We'll just go until we stop, and keep goin' from there."

Somethin' tells I won't know much again.

---

The next morning, Daryl rose with the sun and fed himself on the remainder of Mrs. Greene's casserole, thinking of her only briefly as he swallowed it down. He slung the great crossbow over his shoulder and banged his good fist against the wall of the house, directly below the bedrooms. "Get up!" he shouted in a demanding voice, calling out to the hopefully awakened people in the upstairs. "Let's go, let's go, I ain't waitin' for no slackers! Day's a-wastin', let's go!"

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" Abigail fumbled down the stairs with a great bag full of things, blankets and pillows most likely, perhaps a stuffed animal or two and some spare clothes. Her pigtails bounced as she ran. "Miss Beth is comin', and Kevin's almost done!"

"Fine, fine. Come 'ere, stay close to me. If they ain't ready in five minutes, we're leavin'."

"No we're not. You can't leave Miss Beth behind."

No, he sighed. No, I can't. "I can and I will. Come on now, let's get out to the truck."