Beth puts her feet up on the edge of the chair, wraps her arms around her legs. She knows how many different kinds of stupid it sounds to insist on secrecy - but Daryl won't tell anything she tells him not to.
Her answer to his question's just a nod, at least for a while, and the quiet stretches out. Right now, she can't even hear any walkers down below them, just the breeze and some birds out somewhere beyond the building.
"She'll try and kick his ass." It's muttered, staring down at the old gravel that covers the roof. It's weird, how someone decided everything up here should crunch under your feet, and now it's going to until the building falls apart. "He's not...he didn't do anything except yell. And if you, or Maggie, or someone kicks his ass, all he's gonna do is think he was right."
"Deserves it," Daryl murmurs, not looking at Beth. He fiddles with a cigarette, putting off lighting it, letting the moment linger on.
The Greene sisters have become a push-and-pull force of power in Alexandria, or at least, in Daryl's life. He's endlessly loyal to both of them, like-- he likes to think-- anyone in the group. When they don't agree, though, it somehow ends up making his life one headache short of Hell.
"Talking shit's still doing something," he murmurs, thinking pointedly of no one in particular. "Don't give a rat's ass what he thinks."
Yet nothing among those murmured strings of words indicated he wouldn't do what she said.
"Yeah," she agrees, because he does deserve it. But the minute everyone gets involved in one person's bad relationship is the minute things go from bad to worse. "That's why I broke up with him."
Beth doesn't look at him, either, mostly because she can imagine a look that means this is embarrassing for both of us on his face, and she doesn't want to look up and see it. There's no one else who understands any of this; Maggie'll freak out, and Rick'll act like he's her dad, and everyone her age is really more like Carl's age. What's she going to do, talk to Enid?
And everyone else is...the same kinds of problems, really. She wouldn't put it past Carol to poison him, she cooks enough food for the community.
What Daryl knows of relationships, romance and its arrow-point dynamics, he's learned from observation. Much of that observation came from Merle, and one memorable occasion involved a methed-up rant about who broke up with who. Merle had protested a little too much to be entirely creditable, and Daryl was luckily sober enough to keep his mouth shut.
The memory isn't what's making him smile, an awkward curtain pull on yellowed teeth. He squints at Beth and tilts his head to the side.
"You broke up with him?" That means she won, right?
"I know what it looks like when people wanna hit you." And he'll probably know why, if only for all the scars that came with her when she left the hospital. No one's made her talk about it, and she hasn't, and sometimes she thinks if she ever does, she might fall apart. Maybe literally - it's weirdly easy to imagine all the scars on her head opening up again, pouring out blood. "Even if they don't. And that's not...I'm not sticking around to see when they decide they wanna try."
And if Maggie got even a whiff of that, she'd go ballistic.
"But if you go pound his face in," she adds, and here, she'll hazard a look at Daryl, "then he's just gonna think I'm crazy and that he didn't deserve it. It won't make anything better."
Daryl's expression darkens, the cigarette in his hands becomes folded into a tight fist. He'd gotten a read on this Kyle prick, namely that he was a prick. Not this much of one, though, and he's angry at himself for missing it, angry at himself for not warning everyone.
It's a long moment, tied up in silence, before Daryl says, "don't gotta tell anybody about you'n him."
But. "He shouldn't be on certain details. Too dangerous."
"Yeah." Daryl can probably make more inroads than she can, on that front. If he tells Rick, Rick will listen; if Beth does, she'll have to explain, and Rick will freak.
Daryl knows how people's faces change, the stupid tiny shifts that're barely there unless you know to look for them, when they want to hit him, too. He understands. Beth hates that he does, for his sake. Despite how miserable explaining is, she's mostly glad she has - except that it means Daryl has to live here with her, crunching up his anger along with the butt end of his cigarette.
"And if he hurts somebody -" She knows it's fucked up of her, when she makes herself look at him. She can't begin to imagine the look on her face, even as she feels her brows pulling and her mouth tight. "That's why I don't want to try and get him kicked out. If he hurts somebody, I wanna know about it."
He hasn't done anything really bad yet. Maybe things could turn around. After all, he's capable of kindness, the sort that makes Beth interested in a person long enough to kiss them. But if he does hurt somebody - well. She has a knife and a gun.
"I'll watch his ass," Daryl says, and if it sounds like a hackles-raised threat, it is. But it's a threat to a man who isn't here, who deserves far worse than Daryl's judgmental eye. "Won't be like Pete."
Daryl won't let it get that bad. He's not sure he believes in second chances, not for this kind of shit, but Kyle hasn't actually hit anybody, yet.
Has he?
"He ain't done nothing to you," Daryl asks, one more time, even though he's sure it'll make Beth squawk. "Just looks, right?"
"I mean, he was a jerk." Beth's not completely certain, but she feels pretty sure that when a guy calls you a pathetic bitch who spends all your time pretending you're perfect, like you aren't completely fucked in the head, that doesn't count as nothing. "But if he hit me, I would've hit him back."
All right, she doesn't know that. But a boyfriend doesn't hold the kind of sway Dawn did, the take-it-or-I'll-throw-you-out power that kept her from fighting back until she had to. There was more she could have done here, she tells herself. She wasn't helpless.
And she made sure that she wouldn't have to find out if she actually was.
There's a glint in Daryl's eye, a new angle to his lip, something that converges on pride. He looks at Beth with deep appreciation. She's tough, now, and maybe she always was. Important thing is, now she knows it.
"Won't let it get like Pete," he says. "Don't have to make it a big fight, for once."
(Look, he trusts Rick to the end of the earth. That was still a crazy move.)
"Away from people." It's a plan that sounds good, even if she's not sure it'll work. But maybe hard labor will fix his crappy attitude. Maybe he'll realize he has to be who he is when he's not angry, not that horrible spring-loaded asshole who's ready to throw down. "He can be nice. He's just -"
Even now, it's hard not to defend him. Sometimes people have it hard, especially now. It's possible to look at people, even when they're complete assholes, and think, I know you're like this for a reason.
"'Course he can," Daryl says with a shrug, squashing his first instinct, a seething who gives a shit. "Chooses not to, is the thing. I'll talk to 'im."
"You don't gotta," Beth says immediately, even if he kind of has to. She certainly doesn't want to talk to Kyle ever again, and getting someone else to deal with the situation means explaining it to them. But the idea of Daryl having to intervene is the thing she can't quite resign herself to. "But - if you wanna."
Daryl grumbles what passes for polite disagreement. "Can't be Maggie. Can't be Rick." Both of them would lean too hard on anger, he thinks, while also being an intelligible, known feature of the new Alexandria. For good or ill-- and for the majority of Daryl's keen annoyance-- nobody really understands who Daryl is, within those walls. They're scared of him.
This makes her laugh a little, and the sound's warm - a joke shared between friends. Daryl is right, without even saying it: everyone here is afraid of him, at least a little. Sometimes Beth's jealous.
"He's a coward," she agrees, her voice soft. "He won't wanna piss you off."
And his annoyance-- at himself, mostly-- evaporates. An awkward grin forms on a face unaccustomed to levity. "I'll keep on his ass." Scaring the guy who almost hit Beth, without putting any effort in? Sounds like a great day. "Make him scare up some mean tomatoes."
A cloud forms on the horizon, joined by another. "You ready to head on back?"
"Not really. But we can go." There's not space enough under that sheet metal lean-to for both of them - and the rain would still soak into their pants, she bets. She'll just...go and hide, maybe, hole up in her room and wait to feel better.
As she stands, she adds, hesitant - "Sometimes I miss being out here. Not...why we were, or eating all that mudsnake. But sometimes it was nice."
An idea forms in the back rooms of his mind, and he kind of hates it, mostly for the fact that he can't stop himself before he says it aloud- "Could do that again," he says. "Never finished training you."
"Could we?" Hope lights up her face. It feels like the first time she's smiled in days now. And then, a little teasing, she adds, "Only thing is, then we gotta find me a crossbow, too. Or I'm gonna steal yours."
"You can use mine," he sounds tired and miserable by the idea, which means- yes, he is smiling, in his own way. "'Til we figure out if you're good at it."
Making Daryl smile always feels like winning a contest you didn't know you'd entered. And it's so easy sometimes - for Beth, at least. She has bleary memories of lying in the back of a truck, or van, or something, blood pouring down her head, and just having her eyes open had been enough.
Before she thinks twice - she never thinks twice about this kind of thing - she goes a step closer to him and hugs him tight. Just for a second or two. "Thanks."
It's wrong-- not bad, but backwards-- because he's supposed to be comforting her, right? He hadn't even tried, known that was beyond his feeble powers. But here she is, trying to hug him and he's not sure why. He doesn't know why he puts his huge, ungainly arm around her narrow shoulders, gives a light squeeze. He just does, and hopes she doesn't mind it.
"C'mon," he says, moving out of it just as soon as its settled. "Before Maggie notices you're gone."
He smells like old cigarettes and sweat and leather, and the shape of him is hard and weary. It's nice - familiar.
"I'll tell her we were hunting," she tells him, as she walks over to the ladder down. It's not a bad lie, really; Daryl's just promised to take her, and for all Maggie knows, they might've started right away. "Are my eyes red?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Her answer to his question's just a nod, at least for a while, and the quiet stretches out. Right now, she can't even hear any walkers down below them, just the breeze and some birds out somewhere beyond the building.
"She'll try and kick his ass." It's muttered, staring down at the old gravel that covers the roof. It's weird, how someone decided everything up here should crunch under your feet, and now it's going to until the building falls apart. "He's not...he didn't do anything except yell. And if you, or Maggie, or someone kicks his ass, all he's gonna do is think he was right."
no subject
The Greene sisters have become a push-and-pull force of power in Alexandria, or at least, in Daryl's life. He's endlessly loyal to both of them, like-- he likes to think-- anyone in the group. When they don't agree, though, it somehow ends up making his life one headache short of Hell.
"Talking shit's still doing something," he murmurs, thinking pointedly of no one in particular. "Don't give a rat's ass what he thinks."
Yet nothing among those murmured strings of words indicated he wouldn't do what she said.
no subject
Beth doesn't look at him, either, mostly because she can imagine a look that means this is embarrassing for both of us on his face, and she doesn't want to look up and see it. There's no one else who understands any of this; Maggie'll freak out, and Rick'll act like he's her dad, and everyone her age is really more like Carl's age. What's she going to do, talk to Enid?
And everyone else is...the same kinds of problems, really. She wouldn't put it past Carol to poison him, she cooks enough food for the community.
no subject
The memory isn't what's making him smile, an awkward curtain pull on yellowed teeth. He squints at Beth and tilts his head to the side.
"You broke up with him?" That means she won, right?
no subject
"I know what it looks like when people wanna hit you." And he'll probably know why, if only for all the scars that came with her when she left the hospital. No one's made her talk about it, and she hasn't, and sometimes she thinks if she ever does, she might fall apart. Maybe literally - it's weirdly easy to imagine all the scars on her head opening up again, pouring out blood. "Even if they don't. And that's not...I'm not sticking around to see when they decide they wanna try."
And if Maggie got even a whiff of that, she'd go ballistic.
"But if you go pound his face in," she adds, and here, she'll hazard a look at Daryl, "then he's just gonna think I'm crazy and that he didn't deserve it. It won't make anything better."
no subject
It's a long moment, tied up in silence, before Daryl says, "don't gotta tell anybody about you'n him."
But. "He shouldn't be on certain details. Too dangerous."
no subject
Daryl knows how people's faces change, the stupid tiny shifts that're barely there unless you know to look for them, when they want to hit him, too. He understands. Beth hates that he does, for his sake. Despite how miserable explaining is, she's mostly glad she has - except that it means Daryl has to live here with her, crunching up his anger along with the butt end of his cigarette.
"And if he hurts somebody -" She knows it's fucked up of her, when she makes herself look at him. She can't begin to imagine the look on her face, even as she feels her brows pulling and her mouth tight. "That's why I don't want to try and get him kicked out. If he hurts somebody, I wanna know about it."
He hasn't done anything really bad yet. Maybe things could turn around. After all, he's capable of kindness, the sort that makes Beth interested in a person long enough to kiss them. But if he does hurt somebody - well. She has a knife and a gun.
no subject
Daryl won't let it get that bad. He's not sure he believes in second chances, not for this kind of shit, but Kyle hasn't actually hit anybody, yet.
Has he?
"He ain't done nothing to you," Daryl asks, one more time, even though he's sure it'll make Beth squawk. "Just looks, right?"
no subject
All right, she doesn't know that. But a boyfriend doesn't hold the kind of sway Dawn did, the take-it-or-I'll-throw-you-out power that kept her from fighting back until she had to. There was more she could have done here, she tells herself. She wasn't helpless.
And she made sure that she wouldn't have to find out if she actually was.
no subject
"Won't let it get like Pete," he says. "Don't have to make it a big fight, for once."
(Look, he trusts Rick to the end of the earth. That was still a crazy move.)
"Make Kyle do farming or some shit. Quiet like."
no subject
Even now, it's hard not to defend him. Sometimes people have it hard, especially now. It's possible to look at people, even when they're complete assholes, and think, I know you're like this for a reason.
no subject
no subject
That'd be nice, is what she doesn't say.
no subject
He can use that.
"Won't try'n fight me."
no subject
"He's a coward," she agrees, her voice soft. "He won't wanna piss you off."
no subject
A cloud forms on the horizon, joined by another. "You ready to head on back?"
no subject
As she stands, she adds, hesitant - "Sometimes I miss being out here. Not...why we were, or eating all that mudsnake. But sometimes it was nice."
no subject
no subject
Just sometimes.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Before she thinks twice - she never thinks twice about this kind of thing - she goes a step closer to him and hugs him tight. Just for a second or two. "Thanks."
Not just for the use of his bow.
no subject
"C'mon," he says, moving out of it just as soon as its settled. "Before Maggie notices you're gone."
He didn't tell her. You're welcome, Beth.
no subject
"I'll tell her we were hunting," she tells him, as she walks over to the ladder down. It's not a bad lie, really; Daryl's just promised to take her, and for all Maggie knows, they might've started right away. "Are my eyes red?"
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)