Chapter Text
It’s hard to keep track of the days now. Between constantly breaking and making camp and the strange sleep schedule that’s come about as a result of one or the other of them having to take watch, the days have all started to blur together. Counting in her mind, Beth figures it’s been about three weeks since they made their escape from the funeral home. She’s pretty sure it’s God’s love and little else that helped them escape those walkers and that car with her ankle as messed up as it was.
“What you starin’ at?” Daryl asks, snapping her out of her thoughts. He’s across the fire from her, prodding at their dinner where it sits over the fire and staring at it like the rabbit carcass has done him some personal wrong.
“Nothin’,” Beth’s answer is honest, but embarrassment flushes across her chest regardless.
“Coulda fooled me, looking through me like I was made a glass.”
“I was just thinkin’ about how long we’ve been on the road.”
Daryl shrugs and goes back to poking the meat, keeping the rabbit turning on their makeshift spit over the fire. “What’s it matter?”
Beth doesn’t want to tell him, isn’t sure she’d be ready to share with anyone even if weren’t just the two of them, and so she just shrugs in return. “Guess it doesn’t.” She waits a moment, listening to the cicadas and grasshoppers making music in the growing darkness, the cool evening air wrapping around her like a blanket. The silence feels taut between them, but Daryl’s outward behaviour hasn’t changed in the last few minutes, so Beth writes it off as her own issue. “Gotta pee.” She stands up and grabs the crank flashlight from where it's lying on the ground by her pack.
Daryl’s eyes flick up to look at her and then he nods in acknowledgement, seemingly done with talking for the time being.
Beth’s gun is a comforting weight on her hip as she pushes through the surrounding foliage, looking for a semi-private spot to urinate. She listens closely for any sign of potential danger but hears nothing other than her own quiet footfalls on the earth. She finds a tree that’s large enough for her to lean against and gets to business. She undoes her pants and pushes everything down to just past her thighs. She picks up the flashlight from the ground and uses it to shine a stark light at the gusset of her underpants, scowling when she doesn’t see any sign of her period. She’s been doing this every day since she realized just how late she was. It’s foolish, she knows, to be checking herself so often. If it hasn’t come yet, it ain’t likely that it’s gonna. But the paranoia of potentially being pregnant in a world like this, here and now with nothing and no-one but Daryl to keep her safe, has her hoping against hope that she’s just very, very late.
She doesn’t actually have to pee, but tries to anyways, since she’s already here. After she’s done, she levers herself up the tree and fixes her pants and belt before trekking back to where Daryl is. In the dimming light, she knows she has to admit to herself what she’s been trying to hide from this whole time. She’s not missing her period because of malnourishment – Daryl’s hunting and their scavenging have ensured the two of them have been decently fed while they’ve been on their journey. Even stress has never made her period entirely disappear, so she knows the real truth of it. She’s pregnant. As she rejoins their camp, Daryl looks up at her from his spot at the fire and nods, keeping his eyes on her as she sits down across from him. Something must show on her face because his mouth twists, like he’s wondering if he should say anything. After a moment, he seems to make up his mind.
“Meat’s almost done.”
Beth hums in acknowledgement and looks up at the sky. The moon is barely a sliver tonight, but it’s cloudless so she can see pretty much every star there is. She’s thinking about the one and only time she could have gotten pregnant, in a stifling hot jail cell with an eager young man pressing into her body. It’s the only time she’s ever had sex and, doing the math, lines up perfectly. She chews her lip and swallows regret – it wasn’t even enjoyable. A specter of her mama, disappointed but still affectionate, wavers in Beth’s memory. She’d told Beth, when she started showing interest in boys, that it only takes one time to get pregnant. She said, even with birth control and condoms, there ain’t no guarantee against pregnancy except not having sex. She’d said to her, “Bethy, you’d best be ready for the consequences when you make the choice to bed a man,” and here Beth is, paying the price for not listening.
“You okay?” Daryl’s voice snaps her out of her thoughts.
“Fine.”
Daryl grunts and pulls the cooked meat away from the fire, transferring it to the metal plate that they share between the two of them. “You look like you seen a ghost, is all.” He pulls at the meat to separate some of it and then rises, walking over to sit next to Beth so that they can both get to the plate.
Desperate to get on a new train of thought, Beth asks, “You believe in ghosts?” She picks up a hunk of meat and pulls it from its bone with her teeth. She doesn’t actually care too much whether Daryl believes in ghosts, but she’d rather talk about that than what’s really going through her mind.
“Nah.” Daryl’s mouth is full when he replies and Beth frowns at him. He’s not looking at her, but into the fire when he speaks again. “It ain’t that I don’t believe in ‘em. I just…never seen one.”
“Makes sense,” Beth says, even though it doesn’t, not really. “I never believed in ghosts before, but I wonder now…if walkers are just people’s bodies with none of ‘em left inside, that means their soul had to go somewhere. Right?”
Daryl grunts and rips another piece of meat from the rabbit. They’ve already consumed over half of it between them. Beth was hungrier than she thought. “Not Heaven?” Daryl asks.
“I don’t know…I feel like I don’t know anything anymore.”
No response comes from Daryl and they clean the plate in silence. Beth knows she needs to tell Daryl, he needs to be aware of what’s brewing inside of her, but the words can’t seem to come. She makes up her mind to tell him tomorrow, hoping her courage will come more readily when the sun is up. “I’ll take first watch.” She couldn’t sleep now even if she wanted to. Daryl nods and lays down where he is, curling on his side and using his pack as a headrest. Beth looks up at the sky and wonders what the hell they’re going to do.
~
The next day finds them making their way through the forest in the sweltering heat. Despite the cool of the evening before, the summer heat seems determined to stick around. Beth’s ankle is throbbing at her lack of attention and she’s wiping sweat from her brow about every five minutes. She’s down to her t-shirt and jeans, but even that feels like too much. “What I wouldn’t give for a swimming pool right now,” she murmurs. Daryl is a few yards ahead of her, eyeline sweeping back and forth across the horizon. She doesn’t expect him to hear her, but his head turns a little like he did.
“What’s that, Greene?”
“Nothin’,” she replies morosely. Daryl’s likely used to the heat, after years of hunting and tracking, and he’d just snort if she actually told him what she was complaining about.
After a few moments’ silence between them, Daryl’s voice filters back towards her. “Never been in a pool, but there was a swimmin’ hole near my dad’s huntin’ shack. Used to swim there with Merle on the worst days.”
Beth recognizes it for what it is. A tacit agreement with her declaration – an olive branch. She wants to do something to thank Daryl, but she knows he would balk at it, and they’d be three steps backwards from where they are now. Instead, she decides to make use of his good mood. “My ankles actin’ up somethin’ fierce. Think we could stop for a minute?”
Daryl sighs loudly in response, gestures ahead and to the left. “Looks like there’s a shack or somethin’ up there. Let’s check it out.”
She can’t see what he’s pointing at but follows him and in about fifteen minutes they’ve made their way to a woodshed. It’s empty of all but a few massive logs, wood that would have to be cut down to size to be of any good, alongside a crumpled tarp. “This’ll do,” Daryl tells her, and he sets himself down on the ground, watching Beth do the same.
She considers getting out her journal or something, anything to distract herself from the constant refrain in her mind. She needs to tell him, she needs to let him know. She stretches her bad leg out and rests her ankle on one of the logs, elevating it while she leans back on her elbows. Daryl is picking at his nails with the tip of a knife.
“Got somethin’ to say, just say it.” He doesn’t even look up at her when he speaks, but it’s clear he knows she’s looking at him.
Knowing it’s unlikely to be better delivering the news at any other time, Beth screws up her courage. Her stomach bubbles with nerves and her heart flutters in her chest. For a short, surreal moment, she imagines telling Daryl only for him to get up and leave her there. She wouldn’t really be able to blame him if he did. He’s already saddled with her and her lack of knowledge – despite what little he’s been able to teach her, she ain’t no survivalist. A pregnancy isn’t going to make things any easier. And a baby sure isn’t going to make their lives any less stressful. But she hopes that he doesn’t leave her. Even if he’s aflame with rage once he knows, she hopes that he stays. Better he stays to rant and rail at her, than leaves her to die. Beth swallows quickly and forces herself to say the words. “I think I’m pregnant.”
It feels like hours before Daryl says anything back to her. The sun hasn’t moved in the sky, but it doesn’t matter. Beth is sure if she had a watch, it would tell her time had passed. “You think?”
Unbidden and unexpected, a laugh bubbles up. It’s part hysterical and Beth has to clamp her hand over her mouth to stop it. “Not like I can go ask a doctor to know for sure.” She’s still a little breathless from the strange laughter when she speaks, but he seems to understand well enough.
“How long?” He’s looking at her now, like he can see right through her. Like if he stares deep enough, he can see exactly how long it’s been and why she chose to tell him now. Beth can’t help it – she has to look away from his stare.
Not ready to answer his question, she stalls. “Since what?” There’s a dead walker, killed some time ago and rotted down to almost nothing but bones, far away in the field ahead of them. Beth wonders if that’s what she will look like when she goes.
“Since you thought you knew.” Daryl’s voice is tight and higher than usual, like he’s trying not to yell at her.
“Last night.” She swallows and forces herself to look back at him, crossing her arms over herself, rubbing her own biceps nervously. “I…had been thinkin’ for a while, maybe. But…last night, for sure.”
“Thinkin’ for a while? Why didn’t you say nothin’?” His knife is held tight in his fist, pressing against the dirt. His knuckles are white with his grip and Beth is waiting for him to get up and…do something. Kick something, hit something, yell…she’d rather he do any of that than walk away.
“It’s hard to know. I’ve only…had one chance. So, I thought…maybe it was just the stress.” She’s having a hard time explaining to him. It’d be difficult with anyone, but it seems even more so with someone like Daryl, who doesn’t exactly invite open conversation. She hopes he can put the puzzle together with the little information she’s given him.
“Fuck.” His voice is quiet, but still tight. His fingers scrabble at the dirt before he stands up to pace. “Shit. This is fuckin’…” He turns to look at her. “You ain’t taken a test or anything?”
She smirks at him. “When’s the last time we went anywhere I’d get one?”
Daryl lets out a sigh – it sounds equal parts angry and relieved. “Before we get all caught up, we oughta know for sure.” He looks up and around before pointing to his right. “We walk for about an hour that way, it’ll get us to the road. Take that to town and see what we find.”
Beth doesn’t tell him that she’s sure. She feels it in her bones in a way she can’t explain, a certainty she’s never felt about anything else. She agrees to his plan if only to stave off his rage for a little longer. Her ankle throbs at the mere idea of another hour of walking on it, though, so she moves to take off her boot. The least she can do is massage the angry muscles a little before they leave.
“I’ll carry you,” Daryl offers.
She tries for levity. “A serious piggyback?”
Daryl only grunts, swings his crossbow around to his front, and situates himself, half squatting in front of her so that she can clamber onto his back. His pack digs into the soft tissue of her torso and scratches against her neck. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and rests her chin there. His fingers grip, sure and firm, at the bend of her legs. He doesn’t speak, just takes off in the direction he had indicated, moving more quickly than they had before.
~
Two hours of walking and a few breathers later, they’ve found a small town. It’s so podunk that it doesn’t even have a real sign, just a highway marker that indicates they’ve arrived somewhere. They run into a few walkers on the way, and Beth hops off Daryl’s back so they can dispatch them swiftly – quietly. The town looks like it wasn’t very busy before the turn. A gas station and a general store seem to be the only two buildings other than a few trailers and dilapidated houses.
They try the gas station first, since it’s right ahead of them. The back office hides a person who ended their own life, sprawled over the desktop with a gun next to them. Daryl searches the office while Beth keeps herself busy in the shop. The space is pretty empty, but it doesn’t look picked over. The shelves are all stocked like an open business from before, only dustier, but it’s clear that the shop didn’t have much in the way of stock to begin with. She finds some beef jerky that might be edible and chips that are likely stale, along with a few remedial first aid supplies. No pregnancy tests here. She shouldn’t be surprised – people living in this part of Georgia wouldn’t be walking into a small-town gas station looking for a pregnancy test, easy at you please. There’s more than enough room in her pack for everything, so she situates it and then goes to check the bathroom.
She and Daryl meet at the front door after a time. He found a box of handgun ammo for the new gun and a few bottles of filtered water in the office. “Matches, too,” he says, shaking the box at Beth. He wraps them in a plastic bag before shoving them into his pack and then starts off for the general store while Beth recounts her haul.
The general store has clearly been looted, but not by someone who could take much. There’s a pile of supplies at the front counter that they were likely unable to carry. Beth goes to look through it, but Daryl stops her with an arm across her chest. Like they’re in the car and he hit the brakes too late and he’s trying to stop her from smacking into the dashboard. Like he’s trying to keep her safe. He raises a finger to his lips – worried that they might have walked into a trap. Beth nods her understanding and follows his gestured instructions to stay where she is. He walks around the store quickly – it’s not very large, and returns, making a face.
“Back room’s locked up,” he whispers. “Wanna clear it before we look around.”
Beth nods. They'll make noise trying to get into the back room – whether they kick the door open or smash it with something, and they might attract unwanted attention that way. “Should we check out back?”
Daryl nods and they head out and around the building. The back door's already been broken open and hangs half off its hinges. Whoever broke it down needed to get in and they didn’t care how. Beth grabs the crank flashlight from her pack and gives a few spins before clicking it on. Daryl points at where he wants her to direct it and then leads the way into the darkened space. As they take in the windowless room, lit only by the dull beam from Beth’s flashlight, Beth trips on something on the floor. She doesn’t fall, but it does make noise. “Crap,” she mutters, listening to the offending object clatter across the room.
Daryl turns back at her to hiss something unkind, no doubt, but he’s cut off by a familiar groan and the sound of shuffling feet. Before Beth has a chance to redirect the beam of the flashlight, Daryl’s aimed his bow and let loose a bolt. They both hear when it makes contact with its target, the wet thunk of it, and the groaning stops, the shuffling turning into the thud of a body hitting the floor. Daryl grabs the flashlight from Beth without asking and stalks over to pull the bolt out of the walker’s head. The body is wearing what looks like a uniform. They must have worked at the store, or maybe the gas station. Beth wonders at their story – how long they were here before they died, whether they were alone.
Sweeping the space quickly with the flashlight, Daryl confirms that they’ve put down the only walker present. He gestures at the door into the main building, which they can now see is held shut by a broom shoved through the door handles. Whoever that walker was, he was in here hiding from someone. Beth pulls the handle out of the door with some effort and drops it to the side with a clatter. The two of them heft around some nearby boxes to hold the swinging doors open, letting in some of the sunlight from the main area of the store. Beth leaves Daryl there with the flashlight, heading for the “healthcare” area of the store, denoted by a handwritten sign hanging from the ceiling. She finds a pretty good stock of self-care items, including soap and toothpaste – whoever looted this place did so early on before everyone realized that personal hygiene items were going to be one of the most valuable resources after food and water. She can’t gather too much, but she allows herself the luxury of two tubes of toothpaste a few bars of soap, some deodorant and toothbrushes.
She continues hunting for what she needs. She makes room in her pack for some pads, knowing she’ll use them whether she’s pregnant or not, and then finds what they came here for. Five pregnancy tests in bright blue packaging sit, untouched and covered in dust, next to packs of condoms. Like God is laughing at her, mocking her. She reaches for one of the boxes of condoms and hears a snort of laughter from behind her. Beth whips around so quickly, she knocks the product off the shelf and sends it falling to the floor.
“Little late for that,” Daryl mutters. He’s leaning, relaxed, against the shelving, watching Beth. How long has he been there? She feels a blush creep up the back of her neck, along her chest, covering her ears and cheeks.
“Could be good for trade,” she chokes, like that’s what she was thinking all along. But she leaves the condoms and grabs two tests – just to be sure. “Keep an eye out for me?” Like he’s ever done anything but.
Daryl nods and follows as she heads out of the building. He stands watch while she shuffles around the side for a modicum of privacy, quickly and anxiously peeing on the first stick. She doesn’t have a watch to time the five minutes that she has to wait and so just stares at the small display, praying for an answer she knows she won’t get. She hears Daryl clear his throat, shuffle his feet. It’s like the world has narrowed to nothing other than the pregnancy test and Daryl. Slowly, so slowly but much more quickly than she had hoped, the test tells her what she knew all along. Beth finds herself crumpling to the ground and she must let out a noise because Daryl is stepping around the side of the building, his knife at the ready.
But he finds her squatting on the ground, hand pressing into the dirt to hold herself up. Her chin is tight to her chest, and she can’t stop herself from crying, though she’s trying to do it silently. What are they going to do? She can’t have this baby, but an abortion is out of the question. What are they going to do?
She hears, distantly and dimly, as Daryl picks up the test that she dropped at some point. “Fuck,” he says, and then he kicks the wall of the building. Eventually, perhaps when he feels like Beth has cried for long enough, he reaches down and roughly grips her arm. “Come on,” he says, “we gotta go.” He guides her somewhere, but she isn’t paying attention. She is remembering, instead, Judith’s birth and the way that Lori seemed to know the end was coming long before. Is this what Lori felt like, Beth wonders, as she lets Daryl guide her somewhere. Did she feel like she was a dead woman walking, like her life would only last until the baby inside her was ready to start theirs? Beth can’t get Carl’s sombre expression out of her mind, Maggie’s recurring nightmares. She can’t have this baby, she knows, but she’s got no choice.
~
The following weeks pass in a blur. Beth wants to help Daryl as he puts together a plan, looking for maps and picking out locations where they might find a community and maybe a doctor (or at least someone with medical training). She wants to be more helpful than a child, but she finds herself stuck in a constant sort of fugue state, unable to focus on anything and merely going through the motions. It all comes to a head when she’s on watch while Daryl sleeps restlessly next to their fire and Beth misses the first signs that they are not alone. A quiet crunch in the woods, a twig snapping. She should've been paying attention – it’s unlikely to be an animal this late in the evening, more likely a walker or human drawn to the dying flames that Beth should have put out. Daryl wakes, not as a result of Beth rousing him, but when the interloper sets off their rudimentary alarm system of cans strung up around their site.
He’s up with a lurch and reaching for a weapon, but it’s too late. Beth’s fucked up. Two men, featureless in the shadows of the night, are standing at the perimeter of their camp.
“Lookit what we have here,” one of them says, their voice cold and thick in Beth’s ears.
“Don’t fuckin’ move,” the other one warns them.
Beside her, Daryl swears under his breath.