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

22. Provoked

This chapter is dedicated to @queenofbookjungle. Thank you for all the wonderful messages and encouragement. You are a delight to talk to, my friend. This chapter, like all the others, hasn't been edited so apologies for the mistakes and all.

Enjoy!!!

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22. PROVOKED

| BETH |

Through a murky and mud-soiled window I watched Daryl leave, taking a piece of me with him. As much as I wanted to stop him, to keep him here with me and never let him go again; I knew I couldn't. We all have our jobs to do. His will always be to protect and provide. The thought made my heart swell with pride. Daryl Dixon was man of many traits but laying down and doing nothing while our friends are in danger, will never be one of them.

I wish I could be more like him.

I will be more like him.

With that thought in mind I pick Molly up and cuddle her into my chest. She was so tired from the walk and the berries that she falls right asleep in my arms after only a few minutes. There's no crate big enough to put her in so Maggie makes her a small nest-like bed out of a our old clothes and to keep her warm we drape Daryl's poncho over her.

My sister's eyes keep lingering on the still-unconscious man on the other side of the cottage, her hands holding her gun tightly. I know what she's thinking... I know that she is just begging for him to wake up and make a move so that she can kill him. I know she has grown indifferent to violence, but I don't know how I feel about that. I suppose it had to happen sooner or later though. I just hope that she remains the same caring, beautiful sister I grew up with and that she kills only out of necessity. Like me.

I sit down with my back against the door and look at her intently. "Mags?" She hums a response, just like she used to when we were children. "What are we going to do after all of this? I mean...we need to find Rick and Carl." It was no question that Judith needs her family, perhaps more than she needs us. Hell, where do we even start?

Maggie ponders over the question for a few seconds before answering in her calm, reassuring voice, "We will find them Bethy. It's only a matter of time."

Time? Do we have it? I think. All we have is hope these days. Then again, maybe that's all we need. I sigh, sipping some bottled water we'd taken from the funeral home.

Just then she brings her gun up, pointing it at the man as he begins to stir. His blood is sticking to his clothes. I jump to my feet, finding my own gun but keeping it down by my side. He groans in pain, stroking the side of his face that had swelled up badly and winces, all before opening his eyes. When he does, he springs back from us - or tries to - but his leg is so badly damaged he can barely move.

His arms, bound behind his back by what looks like a seatbelt, struggle to be freed. Maggie cocks her gun at him. "Give me a reason," she warns. "Just give me one good reason to kill you right here right now."

He flinches visibly, but just as quickly his demeanor changes, becoming...cocky, I think. "Look you don't have to do this. Whatever you want, we have a place where everyone's welcome."

"Really? After everything you told my husband and my friend, you're going to say something stupid like that?" Maggie laughed bitterly. "I don't think you realize how much I want to kill you." She inhales a sharp breath of air, her tone like liquid steel. "You people are sick. What did you do to our friends?"

"We're just holding them." He claims. "They attacked us. We're just protecting ourselves."

"I don't believe you." I finally speak. "Our friends are good people. Not that you know what that is."