Sweet Revenge - Bethyl Fanfic

Chapter Five

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. The story I tell about Daryl and Beth is my own invention, and it is not purported, or believed, to be part of the Walking Dead story canon. It is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.  

Chapter 5 

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"Let no one who loves be called altogether unhappy. Even love unreturned has its rainbow."  

~J.M. Barrie, The Little Minister 

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Bodies of twice-dead lay strewn in a circle around Beth's feet. After two weeks of intense training and practice she was finally starting to feel comfortable using the sword. It still wasn't easy, and she still felt like an idiot half the time she was practicing the precise strokes of Iaijutsu, the technique Eugene had been telling her about, but she was starting to feel like the motions were becoming second nature, like riding a bike or driving a car.  

Gene never touched the sword, but he had read enough about laijutsu to teach her what he referred to as "the foundations.'  

Beth practiced the routines tirelessly, occasionally late into the night, when everyone - but Daryl, of course - had long since gone to bed. Whenever she had the whim to stay up late practicing, Daryl hovered around the exercise room, or walked the residential level of the silo, checking the locks, and doing whatever Daryl did late at night. He never went to sleep before her, and more often than not they spent their evenings together.  

Not only was she getting better using the katana, but she was also learning a lot about the blade. She knew the tip was called the kissaki, the curvature was the sori, and that tameshigiri meant 'test-cutting' which was what she'd just finished doing. Daryl came up slowly from behind, clapping softly. She lifted her chin. This was the second tameshigiri, and Daryl hadn't had to help her, unlike last time when she'd lost her grip on the sword inside the chest of a fresh walker, and he'd had to save her ass from nearly getting bit.  

Daryl came to stand next to her, and taking his bow in one hand, he ran the tip of his thumb down her right arm. The contact lasted barely a second but she shivered in response. She looked down at her arm where he'd touched her, wanting to confirm it wasn't on fire. Not burning, but it was covered in cuts and scratches, and one deep laceration, on her forearm, that Eugene had stitched up. Training with the katana came with a downside, and the blade had earned Beth's respect.  

"Pretty good" Daryl said, "a little sloppy, but ya don't need much grace t' kill a walker."  

She frowned. "Sloppy?"  

His lip turned up on one side and he looked away. "'M Proud uh ya."  

She put her hand up to her ear. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" She asked him, knowing perfectly well what he said. He turned to look at her again. He was wearing black jeans, a black button up shirt, and his leather jacket.  

"You heard me." He said gruffly, his eyes flicking toward the wall. They could hear more walkers approaching on the other side of the wall. Eventually they would discover the dilapidated section in the wall, and smell their way to Daryl and Beth.  

She nodded. "Thanks," she said. She flicked her wrist, slinging the blade to get the walker guts off before she sheathed it.  

"This one still hurt?" He asked, rubbing once with his index finger down the length of her stitches.  

She shrugged. "Only when I first start using my arm, then I forget about it."  

He grunted in response, dropping his thumb. These little touches were Daryl's new thing. He seemed to be waging some war within himself, only affording himself a tiny amount of physical contact with her each day. His restraint had become something she could see, something she recognized every time he came even remotely close to entering her space. She was forced to exercise a fair amount of restraint herself, and instead of taking his thousand tiny touches a day as an excuse to jump his bones, she found some little way to let him know she liked each and every one.