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

18. A Different Side

So here it is guys. I'm sorry if it sucks but I really worked myself just to update and it didn't come out as I wanted it to...if it ever does. These chapters are not edited so I apologize now for any and all mistakes. Anyway whoever reads this, I hope you all enjoy these chapters nonetheless. xox. Jaydee.

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18. A DIFFERENT SIDE

| BETH |

I woke with an arm draped around me and another, much smaller one digging into my side. Judith, I think smiling, and Daryl. This is how I want to wake up every morning for the rest of my life. This is pure bliss. But I know this is only temporary. Soon we will be fighting to survive. Danger is everywhere these days and there was no going back.

I shift without opening my eyes. Daryl's arm pulls me in closer so that my back in pressed right up against his chest. His even breaths tickle my neck in a way that I know he is still asleep. And the beard he is sporting is rough against my skin. It feels good and for a further ten minutes I let myself bask in this moment of overwhelming happiness.

The room is dark when I open my eyes, but that's because the curtains are blocking out the rising sun. Trying my best not to wake the two people I care most about, I wiggle out of bed and make for the bathroom. With warm clean water I wash the sleep from my face and look at myself in the mirror. My hair is disheveled and messy and the skin above my eyebrows is itchy and irritated, probably from the hours of walking beneath the hot sun. I'm definitely darker than I used to be. Then again, so is everyone else. Especially Daryl.

I rake through the draws and cabinets, in the latter I find some soothing cream. I brush my hair and tie it into a tidy ponytail, and seeing that there's a full tube of toothpaste I brush my teeth with my index finger. Even in this world of desperation I'm not game enough to use someone's toothbrush.

Once I am fully refreshed I descend the stairs to the kitchen to prepare something nice for breakfast. Everyone, I believe, is still fast asleep and I do my best to keep as quiet as possible. The first thing I do is get a pot of water on the stove to boil. When that is ready I place four cups of porridge in and leave it to simmer. I find some bread, although a little stale, and toast them beneath the grill of the oven.

I was just dishing out some plates and cutlery when Daryl came down holding a very happy Judith in his arms. We share a look, one that might've fooled me into believing we were the only ones left in the world. A look that made my heart flutter. "Morning," I say, taking Judith from him and kissing her soundly. "Are you hungry?"

Judith makes a noise of protest, and I laugh. "Of course you are Judy! You could probably eat an elephant but I was talking to Daryl."

His mouth quirks up at one end. He shrugs, "I could probly' eat a elephant too." With light hearts we all sit down to eat porridge, which actually didn't turn out to be too bad. Soon the others join us and the dining room is filled with impish laughter and happy conversations. For that small amount of time we all forgot the harsh world we live in. For that small amount of time, we were acting like a normal, unsuspecting family.

The decision to leave the funeral home that morning was unanimous. Daryl pointed out that we must be close to Terminus, only a mile or two away, and that there was no point in staying again. What if the owners came back? He said. What if they weren't friendlies, like us? We just could risk it when we have so much children to protect. And I agreed.

So, as much as my heart was telling me it was wrong, we filled our backpacks with food and supplies. Daryl had found a couple of pocketknives and medicinal supplies that he took as well. And as our group was readying ourselves to leave, I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, and thanked whomever the house belonged to for everything. Whether I was truly thankful or simply trying to make myself feel better, I didn't care. It felt right.

*

We found the train tracks with ease. Overhead the sun was extra hot, and carrying Judith didn't help one bit. The walk was akin to yesterday's one. Daryl, Judy and myself had taken the lead. In the center the children listen excitedly to another of Tyreese's fairy tales, and Maggie and Glenn took to protecting the rest of us from behind.

"How long do you think it'll take us to get there?" I ask Daryl. He shrugs his shoulders, frowning a little.

"A few hours, maybe more." He soon answers. "I'm more worried 'bout whether the place is real or not. Fuckin' could be a trap for all we know."

The statement was true. We had all seen and experienced too much to not be wary of everyone and everything. I lower my head as we walk, contemplating everything that has happened over the last week. I'm still grief-stricken about Lizzie and what I had done but not as much as before. The guilt of killing her has faded, a little. And I like to think that Luke and Mika are in a better place. Anywhere had to be better than this. I often revisit that moment in my dreams but the outcome is much different. In my dreams it is not Luke and Mika who were killed. Only Lizzie. That must sound heartless but it is the truth.

Tyreese comes to take Judith from me, and once I hand her over I feel a great sense of relief. I smile in gratitude, then quickly return to my thoughts.

Suddenly I am ripped from my thoughts by the sound of walkers, and then someone yelling for help. Daryl indicates for everyone to stop, a finger pressed into his lips. He slowly walks off, following the direction of the sound, and I follow him. Off to the left of the tracks, beyond the trees and bushes we see them. Five walkers closing in on one man. He looked frantic and afraid. I don't blame him. He has only a knife for protection and he looks as though he has seen better days.

I draw my gun as I rush passed Daryl with the intention of helping that poor, helpless soul. But the redneck grabs arm, yanking back to him. I look up at him, confusion in my eyes. He simply shakes his head at me, mumbling a simple, "No."

"Daryl what the fuck are you doing?" I whisper, because the walkers hadn't spotted us yet and neither has the man.

Daryl's hand tightens around my arm. He looks at me seriously. "I'm keepin' ya' from gettin' killed Blondie."

WHAT? That's total bullshit, I think. "Daryl! We need to help him. We have to do something."

"No."

"What?" There was no possible way I'd heard right. Daryl was always selfless, even when it came to people he didn't know. That was just his nature. Always had been, I'm sure.

"Daryl-"

"He ain't worth it Beth. Ain't no way I'm lettin' ya risk ya life for his."

Is that was it was about. He didn't want to lose me? As much as I was angry at him for not wanting to help, a part of me was flattered. He cared about me. Of course he did. Probably about as much as I cared about him. But I couldn't just stand aside and let that man become walker-lunch. I'd not forgive myself otherwise.

I stand on my toes and lightly kiss Daryl's cheek. "I understand." I said softly. "But we have to help him Daryl."

He looked down at me with hooded eyes, his mouth turned up in a half-grimace half-growl shape. Finally he shrugs, "Fine." And he pushes passed me with his crossbow at eye-level and his finger on the trigger.