War Of The Damned - (Daryl & Beth) - The Walking Dead

4. A Night Beneath The Stars

4. A NIGHT BENEATH THE STARS

"Ya' like starin' at me don'cha Blondie?"

The question replayed in my head over and over again and I was still blushing over it three hours later as I was patrolling one half of the island while Daryl took care of the other. Judith had cried out when I would have answered him yes, and as I walked away from him to check on the lil' Asskicker, as he liked to call her, Daryl laughed. A sound that followed me inside the caravan and wrapped itself around me until it was etched in my memory, not to be forgotten.

I really liked his laugh. I had not heard it before. It was deep, rumbling kind of sound. Almost homely and safe and rough. Glenn had the four older children in one caravan and Tyreese chose to spend the night with his sister, incase she turns. She hasn't awoken yet and her fever is down thanks to the medicine I'd found - so fingers crossed. And Judith was sleeping in the third caravan that Daryl insisted we share. I was surprised when he told Glenn and Tyreese this. I thought for sure that Glenn would have something to say about it, he had proposed to Mags, who'd said yes. He was practically a brother and he was always nice to me. But I guess he was too concerned about Maggie and Rick and Carl because he'd only nodded and took the children to bed, closing the door behind him.

The island was small enough that we crossed paths now and then. What Daryl was really worried about was the thin strip of earth that was the only exit to and from the island. It was how those people had gotten these caravans out here. It was the most quietest night we've had in months, even at the prison there was strange noises that had echoed throughout the cell blocks - probably rats or something of the sort. Above us the clouds had long cleared to reveal a night-sky dotted with tiny stars. It was beautiful. I always had a thing for stargazing, Daddy used to say they were the eyes of God and that God was always watching us, no matter where we are. I don't know if I believe that anymore. After all how could I when he had allowed the only man I truly loved be taken away from me?

I remember when I was a child, about five or six, I'd gotten lost in the forest around our farm. I was out there for three hours, preying to God to show me the way home. He didn't. Daddy found me in a tree and carried me home in his arms. It was then that I realized God didn't answer all preyers and that I decided I loved my Daddy more than God.

I was staring at the stars thinking about Daddy and all the memories we shared when I felt a hand close over my shoulder. My initial instinct was to attack - Maggie had taught me a few things about that, I doubt I am as good as she is though - but then I felt a hot breath of air brush over my ear. The voice belonged to Daryl.

"I'm sorry 'bout ya' Daddy, Blondie." He said only for me to hear. "He was a good man."

Mental images of Daddy's head half-removed from his body flooded my mind and tears brimmed in my eyes. How did he know? More importantly, how can I let myself cry in front of him. I tried to stop them and wipe them away with the back of my hand but Daryl stops me, gripping my wrists. He comes around to face me.

"It's fine ta cry Beth. Ya' can't hold it in foreva'." He says in his Georgian accent. I'm sure this day he's spoken to me more than he has during the time since he had come to the farm. I remember to thank him for keeping me alive this long, maybe when I'm less prone to bawling my eyes out.

"I'm not as strong as you," I whisper, letting my eyes fall to his. He still has my wrists in his hands...his rough, calloused hands. Then he let them go and I've not felt as though I've miss anything more. Except for Daddy of course.

Daryl takes a step back from me, like he's committed some awful deed. He blinks once, then rubs a hand over his face, re-steadying his crossbow over his chest. "I ain't as strong as you people think I am." I must be looking at him wearing a dumb expression because he laughs lightly and adds, "When Merle died. I had ta kill 'im. Hadn't cry'd like tha' since I was six."

He rubs his chin, looking to the stars. I remember that day; I was at the prison, looking after Judith as it was my duty to and Merle and Michonne had gone missing. Daryl had gone after them - as he always does. Only him and Michonne returned to the prison, which was fine with me. I didn't really agree with Rick giving her up for the greater good of the group. That was just barbaric. And when asked, neither one gave explanation as to where Merle was. Daryl just retrogressed to his usual reserved self and I assumed Merle had left us to join the Governor's side. Now I understand... "He was a walker?"

Daryl nods, I squint to see it. "Yeh. He helped us ya' know." No. I didn't. "Bastard led a herd 'a walkers ta' the Governor an' his men. Fucken bravest thing he ever done, my brother."

I should have been berating him for the language he was using, the old Beth would have. Now I cannot care less. Daryl looks just as sad as me. I want to reach out to him, to feel him again and offer some sort of comfort. I know he doesn't like to be touched though. But you held his hand earlier and he didn't pull away. Yes, well I'm sure that was purely for reassurance.

Be brave Beth.

"Daryl?"

He turns his back to me. "Wha' Blondie?"

God, I liked it when he called me Blondie. Not really but as far as I knew he didn't speak to anyone else and use a nickname...so that made me kind of special. Was that strange? I guess in this world nothing is. "Do you think Maggie and Rick will find us?"

He sighs, almost sounding annoyed when he turns and answers, "What happened ta havin' faith?"

"I do have faith." I said firmly. It wasn't a total lie. "But do you?"

*

| DARYL |

I stare at Beth for a long while, studyin' her face with my signature frown or maybe it was a scowl, I dunno'. Damn she's hard ta read, ain't like 'em other folks who wear their heart on their fuckin' sleeves. She kinda' reminds me of me and how I used ta be back when this whole thing started. Closed off an' reserved. Back at the farm and even on the road before we found the prison she was so transparent, naive and always walkin' around with that innocent smile on her face. "You ain't that girl anymo'."

"What?"

"Nothin'." I drop ma eyes ta 'er feet.