Chapter Text
"When are they gonna be back?" Lori sighed, peering through the boarded up window of their latest hideout. It'd been a nice find. Someone had boarded the windows before they left, and when they had, they'd left it relatively clean. At least, the little shack hadn't been filled with the lingering scent of decay. Beth was glad for the brief stroke of luck.
"In a hurry to leave?" Beth groused, watching carefully as Asskicker chewed on one of Sophia's arrows. The other girl wouldn't be happy to find tooth marks on her weapons, but both Beth and Lori knew better than to take something away from the baby girl. Daryl had spoiled her rotten, and she was likely to start howling if denied one of her 'toys'. Especially since she'd started teething. They'd all been so excited to see that first tooth poking out of Asskicker's gums, but the novelty had quickly worn off, and months later, had still not renewed itself.
While Beth might not have appreciated their youngest's mood, she could easily forgive it. The poor baby had been cooped up more and more lately as a result of her increased mobility. Gone were the days that she could lie out on a blanket in the grass while Beth and Lori did the laundry. She had to be held or else locked inside when they had the means. Somewhere she couldn't wander into unkind hands or hungry jaws.
They'd seen their fair share of both, and the thought settled in Beth's heart like a cuckoo bird, growing and growing until there was no more room for any hope or joy. It left her feeling barren and weak, and a pang of loss shot through her as she remembered what it had been like to feel safe. The last time she'd felt that had been long before Asskicker was born. Probably before she'd even met Lori.
It'd been a long time since Beth had taken a moment to miss the farm, but when those moods hit, they hit hard. It didn't matter that she'd spent her childhood dreaming of getting away from it. The truth was, it wasn't the farm itself that she missed. Not really. She missed her daddy and sister. She missed her mother and her brother. She missed waking up and just staying in bed a while longer because she knew her daddy would yell at her to get out of bed before she really needed to start getting ready. There were a lot of things she missed about her old life, and in these crazy times, the farm had become the pinnacle of normalcy in her mind. When she thought of life before the Turn, she thought of her daddy's farm.
"There they are," Lori sighed, obviously relieved. At Beth's questioning glance, she was quick to add, "All clear. Open up."
Beth plucked Sophia's arrow out of Asskicker's grasp and quickly wiped it on her pants before replacing it in the girl's spare quiver. She grabbed up the baby girl before she could get to howling and murmured soothing words into her little ear. "Big Bear's back now, Asskicker," Beth cooed, unbolting the door and cautiously pushing it open. Asskicker squealed gleefully when she saw Daryl and Sophia making their way up the barely-there path.
"Shut that thing up!" Daryl snarled, his eyes darting around their little clearing.
"Nothing's around," Sophia said with certainty. That was all it took to get him to relax, most of the time, but he'd been a bit antsy lately. Beth guessed it had something to do with the quickly approaching winter. The second winter they'd see since leaving the farm, and the first they'd have to get Asskicker through while she was outside of Lori's body.
So Beth understood when Sophia's assurances didn't set him at ease the way they usually did, and she didn't protest when Daryl swept past her without a second glance instead of stopping to coo at Asskicker and give her a smile. It was just his way, and it made Beth appreciate him even more, because it was when he was brooding that you could really tell Daryl Dixon cared. He was just trying to take care of them.
"How did things go?" Lori asked, clear question in her eyes.
"No sign of them yet," Daryl sighed, falling onto the little cot in the corner of the room and letting his arm fall over his eyes. "Scout's right, though. We ought'a get a little closer to the farm before we start lookin' too hard for them."
Scout. It was what he called Sophia. What they'd all called her, on occasion. The name certainly suited her, considering the way she traveled so lightly on her feet, always a few paces ahead of them so she could see all danger before it saw them. Daryl hadn't liked it at first, but it soon became clear that she was quite capable of looking after herself, at least long enough for Daryl to catch up if she really needed help. Beth wasn't too surprised by it, really. Sophia had looked up to Daryl from the start, always watching and learning and picking up every skill from him she could. And when they'd found an old compound bow in a house they'd looted, Daryl had started teaching her to use that, too. She'd quickly surpassed him in that department, much to Beth and Lori's amusement. Daryl had grumbled at them for their laughter, claiming that he'd never practiced much with compound bows, anyway, and that he much preferred his crossbow. Beth didn't blame him. She'd tried the bow, too, and had quickly decided she liked her knife much better. Less fiddly.
"Bee!" Asskicker whined, reaching desperately for Daryl and shaking Beth out of her thoughts. "Bee! Bee bee!" the baby insisted, making Beth grin. Daryl had given them their nicknames, and they'd given one to Daryl. Asskicker still couldn't say Big Bear, but she was slowly learning.
Daryl let his arm fall away from his eyes and looked over to the baby, still squirming in Beth's arms. "She been fussy today?" he wondered, holding out his arms for the little girl. Beth gladly handed her over, watching as their protector settled Asskicker on his chest, where she could pull at his beard as she was wont to.
"Not too bad," Lori said quickly, shooting Beth a sharp look. Beth didn't have to be told twice. They wouldn't mention Asskicker's chew toy of choice. What Sophia didn't know wouldn't hurt her, at least in this case. Beth looked over at the younger girl, noticing how quiet she'd been. She usually had something to say about the outing, even if she hadn't brought anything back. Today, Sophia leaned against the door with a cloudy, contemplative look on her face.
"Everything okay, Scout?" Beth asked, scooting closer to her friend and pressing against the girl's side. She'd grown quite a bit since they met, and while Beth was still a bit taller, there were days when she felt almost small next to her friend. She knew Sophia was younger than her, but Beth had always felt on even ground with her. They'd become impossibly close during the winter, talking about their old lives and their favorite bands and which classes they liked or hated, and often about boys, because Beth had just about as much experience as the twelve-year-old.
Now, Beth found herself pushing closer to the younger girl for strength, because though Beth was proficient at running and hiding and facing down walkers, Sophia positively breathed survival and living and warmth. Sometimes, Beth just needed to feel the other girl's skin, her heartbeat. There was something very comforting about knowing Sophia was alive.
Sophia didn't answer at first. She simply gripped Beth's searching hand in her own and turned to look at the older girl, blue eyes meeting in silent communication. She wasn't worried, so Beth relaxed a little bit at that. But there was still something uneasy in Sophia's gaze, and it bothered her even if it wasn't a threat to their survival.
"I just wonder what it will be like... when we see them again," Sophia said at last, choosing her words carefully. Beth understood at once. If they saw them again. Who would be there? What kind of state would they be in? Would they even recognize each other through the thick layer of dirt that coated all five members of their little pack?
She must've said that last part out loud, because Daryl laughed.
"Reminds me, Scout found us a river nearby. Can get some washin' done tomorrow morning before we head out," he said to us, lifting Asskicker above his head. "Good Lord. What're ya feedin' this girl, Mama Bear?"
"Whatever you and Scout bring back," Lori shot back severely, a smile tugging at her lips. "She just gets it in a slightly different method."
Daryl snorted. "Slightly," he said to Asskicker with a knowing look. Beth and Sophia giggled.
"She's gettin' so big," Beth breathed, releasing Sophia's hand so that she could move closer to the girl. Beth adored Asskicker. Even after being in such close quarters with the cranky baby all day long, she still couldn't get enough of the little girl. Everything about her called on something deep inside of Beth, and just looking at the girl made her mind scream with the need to protect and love and care for their charge. She was enchanted by the child, and she knew without a doubt that she wanted one of her own.
"She has a ways to go," Daryl sighed, bringing the baby back down to his chest and curling his arms protectively around her. Beth hovered nearby, not wanting to break the moment, but aching to be a part of it. Lori would never interfere when Daryl was holding her daughter. They all knew Daryl's time with Asskicker was precious, and that he had a special bond with the little girl he'd named himself. But Beth often found herself straying close to the pair in their quiet time, wanting to share Asskicker's happy gurgles and Daryl's favorable smiles.
Daryl huffed as he sat up, handing Asskicker off to Lori and scooping his crossbow. "I'll take first watch," he said to the room at large, as though he still needed to. He always took the first watch. They never questioned it. "I'll wake you 'round midnight, Mama Bear. Moonshine can take the predawn." His sharp blue eyes settled on Sophia. "Get some sleep, Scout. Been a long day."
"You got it, Big," Sophia yawned, taking his place on the cot and curling into a little ball. Daryl patted her ankle and leaned down to kiss Asskicker's head before ambling outside. Lori slid onto the floor with Asskicker in her lap and tried to calm the fussing girl.
"Want me to take her, Mama Bear?" Beth wondered, holding out her arms for the squirming girl. Lori waved her away, clearly intending to nurse her daughter. It only took a few minutes of boredom before Beth decided to go and see if Daryl wanted company. She slipped out the door and closed it carefully behind her, mindful of the awful creak the thing had. Of course, it still made Daryl twitch as it swung shut, but they'd long gotten passed the point where Daryl would snip at them for such things, so long as he wasn't in too sour of a mood.
Beth still remembered the days when she wasn't sure if he'd even be there when they woke up. When they'd first fled the farm and lost track of the rest of the group and her family, she'd been very afraid of the man in front of her. He'd been aloof and unfriendly, and there had been times when she was sure he was just waiting for a chance to dump them on the side of the road. But as the weeks stretched on by and she saw the little and big things he did to keep them safe and fed, Beth started to realize what a good man he was. She started to see how good he was to them -- to young Sophia, to pregnant and frightened Lori, and to her. Beth had grown to love him just as much as she loved Daddy and Maggie, and she knew he cared for them, too. It was especially apparent when he was holding Asskicker or teaching something to Sophia, but Beth saw it in the way he treated her, too.
It had been hard to spot, at first. He obviously adored their two youngest, and it was easy to tell when he was trying to make Lori happy, considering the amount of soaps that found their way into her pack when she was in a particularly foul mood. But Beth hadn't realized he'd been showing her favor for the longest time, until almost four months into their flight from the farm. They'd already started heading north by then, and things were getting colder and colder every single day.
Beth remembered the day quite clearly. He'd settled them in a treehouse a few miles from a little town for the day and gone ahead to scout alone. The wind had raked right through them all day, and they'd been unable to warm up at all, despite the way they were huddled together. She remembered being miserable, and then catching sight of him making his way back to them. He'd led them to a little house with it's backdoor to the woods and wasted no time in starting up a fire in the grate. Beth had wanted nothing more than to curl up near the hearth and shiver until she fell asleep, but Daryl had other ideas.
"Come and see this, blondie," he'd said. Back then, he hadn't yet given her the nickname of Moonshine. He just called her blondie, and she'd hated it but didn't want to correct him for fear of rousing his ever-present anger.
He'd led her into the kitchen, and there were a few canned goods on the table that he'd obviously pulled out while scouting the place, but that didn't stick out to her. It wasn't something he'd've called her away to point out.
"What is it?" she'd asked, looking around as if the boogey man would pop out any moment. And he'd waited just a second longer before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a little metal box and placing it in her hands. Beth remembered shaking it and hearing a low, rumbling chuckle at the action. "It's empty?"
"Open it."
She had, and inside was a fiddly little mass of springs and screws and something that looked like a spool of thread attached to a metal comb. Beth couldn't make heads or tails of it, until she realized it was welded to the side of the box. After that, it hadn't taken long for her to find the little wind-up on the outside of the box, and she'd turned it until her fingers stung at it wouldn't go any further. When she released it, the tinny sound of Fur Elsie floated through the chilly air.
"It's a music box," Beth had said, feeling a sort of magic steel over her as they stood surrounded by the tune. The firelight from the next room flickered on the white walls and pale cabinets, and the moon shone brightly through the window over the dusty sink. She'd looked up at him with a new respect, a new appreciation, a new love, and that was when she'd decided he didn't hate her. That was when she decided he was family, he was hers, and they would get through this world together. All four of them.
"It's getting colder again," Beth murmured, still lost in the chill of that night. She sat down beside Daryl on the porch of their little shack and drew her knees up to her chest. Daryl grunted in agreement. "But now that we're further south again, the winter shouldn't get too bad, should it?" He didn't answer. "Of course, we all agree you made the right call. The cold slows the walkers down, and we couldn't have Lori running around the way she would've if we were down here bein' chased around by them."
He grunted again, his head dipping down in a nod this time. There was tension in his shoulders, though. It was something she'd learned to recognize over the past year, and not something she cared to let fester. Still, Beth knew well enough not to pry too much.
"Maybe..." he began slowly, hesitantly, "Maybe we shoulda stayed a little longer. Until Asskicker's teeth come in and she's not so fussy. Been hard tryin'a dodge all these walkers with her. There was less in the mountains. Maybe we shoulda waited."
Beth had wondered the same thing. It had taken a lot of convincing to get Lori to leave the area the year before, knowing her husband and son were still out there somewhere. In the end, though, when they'd finally found a place to settle for the winter, the older woman had agreed that their migration had been for the best. They'd all agreed it was for the best, and that they'd head back down again the following year to try and find the people they'd left behind. We'll wait until the little asskicker is here and then head out, alright? Daryl had said to them. And they'd all agreed, but now Beth wondered why they thought a baby would be any easier than a pregnant woman, and there was still another part of her that wondered why they'd left in the first place.
It had been a good call. Tactical. It had kept them safe and relatively warm during the coldest parts of winter. Beth wouldn't dispute that. But they would've been okay no matter what happened, as long as they'd had each other. They'd been back on the open road again for a while now, and it'd taken some getting used to again, but they were okay. They could've been doing this the whole time.
And then Beth had to smile when she thought of finding Daddy and Maggie, and how close they could be to seeing them again. It didn't sting so much anymore to wonder about them. Beth missed them, but she had another family, too. She had her sister Sophia and their Mama Bear Lori and their little Asskicker, who she sometimes thought of as her own despite knowing she was Lori's. She was sure Daryl felt the same way.
"I want a baby," she said after a moment, forgetting the conversation she'd started before.
Daryl looked over at her, eyebrows raised. "Ain't you a little young to be havin' a baby?" he wondered. Not accusing. Not derisive. Daryl had been the first adult to ever treat her like an equal. Not even Maggie had done that all the time.
"Maybe," she said with a little shrug, looking down at her hands. She used to have soft hands. Even growing up on a farm, she'd had soft, graceful hands. Now they were calloused and rough. "I think we're all a little young for this world, though. We have to live fast, now. As fast as we can. As good as we can. Anything could happen to us tomorrow, or next week or next year. If I wait until I think I'm ready, it might never even happen."
He seemed to think long and hard about this, contemplating his own hands. At last, he turned back to her, a very serious look on his face. "You'd make a good mama," he said simply. A smile curved Beth's lips, and she thought about the way Daryl held Asskicker and guided Sophia through the forest. She thought about the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and how he always smelled like pine and damp earth. She thought about the winter before, and how she'd curled against him for warmth and woke up with his poncho thrown over her shoulders.
"You'd make a good dad," she replied, thoroughly expecting him to flinch at the words. She wasn't unaware of his past. He didn't often discuss it, but he'd said enough for her to know. She'd seen enough to know.
But Daryl didn't flinch. He met her gaze and held it, that same contemplative look in his eyes. As if he was trying to figure out if she meant it, or perhaps what she'd meant by it. Beth didn't rightly know herself. She just knew that, sometimes, looking at him felt just the same as missing her farm. It was the same raw ache of longing, only stronger and more acute, and staring into his eyes made the feeling zing through her veins, sharp in her belly.
Daryl was the first to look away.