Spiced Molasses

Chapter 3

Daryl waited only long enough for the girl, Beth, to grab some clothes. She was like this ghost of a person, dimly following what was happening around her as if she was watching through a veil. Rick told him to be kind to the girl, like he understood what that would entail. Daryl didn't spend much time chatting with females and it had been a long time since he'd spoken to a teenager. He certainly didn't know the correct way to broach the grief she was quite clearly experiencing. He suspected he'd just say something stupid and make things worse.

Luckily she didn't seem to have much interest in talking to him anyway. She climbed into the truck silently, managing a muted goodbye to the two agents who would now be nothing but a reminder of the worst night of her life.

Daryl shook hands with Rick and glared at Walsh before getting in the driver seat. He'd had this truck for so long he could barely imagine a time when he wouldn't own the hulking blue thing. It would give out one day but for now it served as a link to life before agents and criminals. Beth looked tiny in the passenger seat and he couldn't work out if she was just that petite or whether she had curled in on herself.

He started the journey back to Atlanta, driving along dark roads with no street lights. He made no effort to offer conciliatory words. Beth had probably heard enough condolences from perfect strangers to last her a life time. She might have been asleep next to him for all the noise that she was making. She even breathed quiet.

Daryl's fingers itched to turn on the radio but he decided that might be inappropriate so he let the heavy silence ride, focusing on the road.

When eventually they got on the highway that would bring them into Atlanta, lights lined the road once more. Daryl chanced a look at Beth and was surprised to see her eyes were open as she watched the world slip by outside the window. The lights had a cast a bluish tinge on her face and Daryl could tell from the shine on her cheeks that she'd spent most of the drive silently crying.

As if sensing his eyes on her, she lifted her hand and swiped at her face, trying to remove evidence that there had been tears. Daryl's keen eyes saw a slight tremor to her hands.

He started to wonder how long she'd been awake and how she was still upright. He impulsively pulled into a gas station.

"You hungry?" His first words to her sounded harsh and inadequate. Still without looking at him she shook her head. Daryl felt the beginnings of frustration stir in his gut. He wasn't a patient or sensitive man and saddling her with him was cruel to both of them.

Daryl got out of the cab of the truck and went inside. He tugged at his tie and loosened it even further. He hated wearing them, felt like he was being strangled. He grabbed a soda, figuring he'd start small with the girl.

Daryl climbed back in and deposited the drink in her lap less than gently. That startled Beth into looking up.

"You're probably in shock," Daryl explained, pre-empting her complaints. "You could use the sugar."

Beth fiddled with the top, not opening it but not ignoring the offering either. "I haven't got any money."

Daryl's expression was wry. "My shout." This strange creature was still being polite after everything that had happened to her. It was unnerving.

Daryl didn't start the engine; instead he leaned one arm on the steering wheel and watched her. He suspected she could feel his stare and wasn't surprised when she shifted uncomfortably. She wasn't looking at him though. Daryl didn't care. If he was driving, she'd dither around and not drink any of it. That last thing he needed was to play nurse maid to a catatonic teenager.