CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT,
his favorite place

FOR A MOMENT Daryl felt confused, his surroundings were unfamiliar and his senses slowly kicking back in.

And then it all came hurling back. Daryl turned to his side, the absence of Samantha Walsh making any drowsiness completely vanish and his eyes darted everywhere around the room.

"You drool in your sleep."

His head snapped towards the voice. Samantha leaned against the threshold that led into the bathroom, arms crossed over her chest.

Daryl scoffed, but he still lifted his hand to swipe the saliva from his chin.

"How long was I out?" He asked gruffly, ignoring the dry strain in his throat.

"Not that long," She responded, managing to avoid his gaze as she rubbed her head. "Walkers still don't know we're in here though."

Daryl grunted, getting up and heading towards the window. He muttered a rebuke at the walkers that still stalked around the cabin, but something else caught his attention.

The silence.

It was the type of silence that made you shift awkwardly and look at anything but each other, trying to not linger on one another for too long. It was too uncharacteristic, especially for Samantha. She was too quiet.

Daryl Dixon was too stubborn to admit it openly, but deep down he felt like he was the cause of this.

━━━━━

Maggie Greene was by herself in the kitchen, inside her head and not noticing Nathan's entrance. Her head was leaning against her hand, staring at the glass of water with stress behind her light eyes, clearly far off into another world that isn't this one.

It was obvious why Glenn fell for her. Maggie had this country beauty that anyone could see in her facial structure and the greenish blue of her eyes.

She would've been someone Nathan messed with in high school, but that was high school. He has (hopefully) matured since then.

"You'll get wrinkles." He spoke, trying to muster up a small smile.

She looked up at him with a forced one. "Teenagers can do that to you."

Nathan sat down at the table across from her. Up close, the anger was still fresh and directed towards a certain blonde - and he couldn't blame her. Andrea had no right.

"What Andrea did," Nathan almost cringed at the way her head snapped up, her expression now filled with resentment. "She thought it was the right decision."

"Suicide?" Maggie was in disbelief. "Beth is just a kid, and my family. She didn't have the right."

"I know," Nathan nodded his head, frowning. "But Beth - she's alive. She understands now-"

"What if she does tries again?" Maggie interrupted. "Nate, I can't lose her. I'm the older sister. She needs me. I need her. I'm supposed to protect her. I'm..."

Maggie trailed, not able to finish her sentence as her eyes watered up. Nathan for a minute, could relate to her. He had gone through the same thing when Jason died - he still is.

He was supposed to be the big brother, and he was supposed to protect him - but Nathan was a part of the past and the dead now. He had failed, but failure was something he was used to. The two were both intertwined with one another since birth. Leaving his baby brother to die was his biggest failure, and Nathan had yet to taste the freedom of that regret.

"Let me talk to her," Noticing Maggie's hesitation, Nathan added, "I'm not Andrea, I promise."

She pondered for a moment, running a hand through her short hair. When she looked back at him, he took that as permission and he got up, walking out of the kitchen.

Nathan knocked first, before entering the room. Beth was sitting upright in bed, bandages on her wrists. She barely glanced at him before she stared forward silently. He took a seat near Beth. "How you doing, kid?"

Kid. They weren't even that far a part in age - maybe by a few years.

Beth didn't meet his soft gaze. "You're that soldier, aren't you?"

Nathan cleared his throat. "I'm not a soldier anymore."

She finally looked at him, with exhausted, bloodshot eyes that were a dim blue of pain and sorrow. "You wear those tags and that uniform as if you are," Nathan touched the chain around his neck at this. He doesn't understand why he still wears his uniform and his tags - it was possibly an attachment. "Why are you here? Did my sister send you?"

He shook his head. "I came here on my own," He bit his bottom lip. "About what happened-"

"I'm not going to do it again."

"But you still want to, do you?" Nathan countered, peering at her with a knowing gaze.

Beth opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Nathan had been right, but being right was a bad thing. She still wanted an exit out of this world.

"There's nothing out there," The teenager spoke hopelessly, close to tears. "I just feel so empty. This world makes me feel empty, because I know as soon as I walked out of that door..."

Beth was crying and he could see how broken and hopeless her soul was. She was just a child, a child that was thrusted into a world of decay and death and didn't know how to comprehend it. It simply wasn't fair. Life wasn't fair.

Beth needed guidance. She needed someone to relate to, some hope.

"Self harm can come in many different forms," Nathan started. "It doesn't have to be that..." He gestured towards the bandages.

Beth wiped her tears. "What...what are you talking about?" She sniffled.

"My dad was my hero and when he died, I didn't want to handle it," Nathan began, playing with the dog tags again, memories clouding his vision. The sadness still consumed his heart. "I poisoned my body with alcohol, slept around, and got into fights. I was destroying myself both physically and mentally because I didn't know how else to deal with the pain."

"How did you get through it?"

Two faces popped up into his head. A face that resembled his own, and another with green eyes. They both made him equally smile.

"The people I loved," He answered. "A wise man once told me that you find the strength in the pain, but I also think he meant you can find your strength in the people that care about you."

Beth looked at him thoughtfully, considering his words. He thought he had finally got through to her, until a frown pulled her lips. She was still unsure. "I don't know," She murmured. "This world is just so ugly."

She needed more motivation.

A light bulb went off in his head, and the idea caused a smile to grace his lips that made Beth's brow furrow. "Where do you think Maggie keeps her car keys?"

Beth became even more confused. "Why?"

His smile widened. "I think it's time that me and you take a little field trip."

And that's what he did.

The sunset created rich shades of red blended with orange, purples, and crimsons. Nathan felt his spirit being fed by the beauty, his favorite time of the day coming forward.

When his mother was still a loving woman, she used to bring him and Jason to a hill where they would watch the sun go down. It was a happy memory, but behind that memory there was also a deep sadness that ached Nathan's heart.

Beth had her head propped up against the window, stuck in her head rather than reality. Nathan had pulled Maggie to the side and explained what he was trying to do, and Maggie being desperate to get her sister better agreed immediately.

"Where are we going?" Beth had finally spoke, sending him a glance.

"I'm giving you fresh air." Nathan replied, driving up a tiny hill.

"Fresh air is your big plan?"

"Yes." Nathan stopped the car and cut the engine. He could see the teen giving him a questioning look, but he ignored her and stepped out.

The brunette looked up at the sky and admired the colors. From behind him he could hear the sound of the car door slamming and footsteps behind him. Beth had finally decided to join him. "My mom used to bring me and my little brother to a place like this," His heart clenched at the thought of Jason. "I used to think God was a lonely artist and with a stroke of his brush, he created us."

When he told his mom that, she laughed in his face. That's where his resentment towards his mother started to blossom.

"You believe in God?" Beth asked, surprised.

Nathan pulled out another hidden chain from underneath his clothes. It was a silver cross, something he got in middle school."Only one in my family."

Beth nodded, looking upward. He could see the sky in her baby blues. Something about her eyes were familiar, not the shape or the color, but what's deeper.

If you live long enough, you see the same eyes in different people.

In his case, no matter how painful it was, he saw Jason. Both had kind eyes and young spirits. Maybe that's why he was helping her, because Nate saw his baby brother in her.

"What happened to them? Your mom and brother?"

Nathan shrugged. "My mom abandoned us after my dad died, and my brother," Jason's pleading face popped up and made his hands curl up into fists. Not now. "He died at the start of this."

Beth frowned. "I wouldn't know what to do if Maggie died."

"I bet she thinks the same way about you," Beth's brows furrowed at his words. "Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. It doesn't stop the pain, but it spreads to others like a disease. Think about your dad, Patricia, and Maggie. They need you, and you need them."

"I-"

"I wasn't a very good brother, and when he died it destroyed me because I couldn't even say goodbye, couldn't even apologize to him. I couldn't even say sorry about..." Nathan could feel his eyes burn with fresh tears, but he knew how to hold them back. "You have a family, and not people have that these days."

Beth wasn't good at holding back her emotions. "I cant fight, Nathan."

"You can, and you will," He placed an assuring hand on her shoulder. "The fight doesn't stop until the sun stops coming up. I believe in you, Beth Greene."

A choked sob fell from the teenager's lips and she wrapped her arms around Nathan Barton, her emotions shaking her body and her tears staining his shirt."Thank you." Beth whispered, and the soldier finally felt like he's done something right.

━━━━━

With his crossbow in his hand, Daryl gently moved the curtains slightly aside to see outside. The sun was slowly descending, it's light flickering through the trees. It would be dark soon.

Next to the cabin they were staying in, he could see walkers shuffling around. There was less of them, but despite their decreasing numbers just the sight of them made him grip his crossbow tighter. He didn't like feeling like stalked prey.

He heard movement behind him, and he turned to see Samantha snooping around from the shelves.

She was standing on her tippy toes, grunts leaving her lips as she tried to reach what seemed to be a box of candles on the highest shelf. Daryl scoffed, a flicker of amusement behind his eyes as she tried (with a great amount of frustration) to grab it.

All amusement faded away once her shirt slightly lifted up and exposed her stomach. There on her skin was a large bruise that made his insides churn with discomfort and disgust.

It reminded him of his mother, but her bruises were far deeper both physically and emotionally.

It wasn't his intention for what happened that night to happen, but she had a way of getting under his skin. Her words were always piercing so matter how gentle they were.

"Pieces of shit really do run in the family, huh?" Samantha had said.

Usually words didn't cut him. He had lived long enough to have heard it all, and had grown immune to some of the jabs people tried wounding him with.

Yet there was only two people in his life who had sharp enough edges to do so, and when they cut him, they made sure to go in deep and make him bleed.

His piece of a shit dad was one of those two people, and Daryl didn't want to be like him.

With his body suddenly acting on its own, he was next to her in a moment grabbing the box full of candles, shoving them into her hands.

She looked up at him, confusion etching her features before she wordlessly sat on the ground. Daryl was growing irritated at her silent treatment. She was acting like a kid.

Sitting down at the armchair in front of her, he watched the shadows of the walkers behind the curtains but he would ever so often look at Samantha from the corner of his eye. She was setting up the candles on the end table. She had caught him after a few moments. "You got a lighter?"

When did he never? He dug through his pockets and pulled out his old lighter, handing it to her.

Their fingers briefly touched, her skin grazing his and he felt a wave of awkwardness. Their fingers briefly touched, and he felt a wave of

As soon as she lit the candles, the room was filled with an orange glow. Their shadows danced across the walls and across the curtains of the windows.

"My grandma always liked the smell of candles,"

Daryl looked at her. She was staring into the flame, the light flickering behind her eyes like ballerinas.

"She always liked the smell of vanilla, said it was the sweetest smell of them all." Samantha added. "I thought so too."

The grief she wore was still freshly painted across her face. Daryl faintly remembered her telling him about what had happened to her grandma.

He grew curious about her parents, and wondered where they were in the picture.

Samantha glanced at him before immediately averting her gaze. "What about your grandma?"

The hunter thought for a moment, licking the dryness of his lips. "She died a long time ago."

Daryl didn't really remember his grandma. He did however, remember her hands. They were soft and had a very gentle, loving touch. Her touch was a cure towards his father's poison, but that cure ran out just as her life clock did.

"At least you had Merle, right?" Samantha tried to muster up the good out of a situation where it was almost nonexistent.

Daryl didn't say anything. Merle was the only thing he had left. Through all the beatings, through all the pain, all the abandonments, their bond was thicker than blood. They survived their broken childhood, and they survived their broken adulthood, and damn anyone that said they couldn't survive the apocalypse.

"Ain't nobody ever gonna care about you except me, baby brother."

His words from that day in the woods still haunted him, making his teeth grind together in frustration, It was as if Merle was in his head, repeating it whenever Daryl would doubt him.

His face begin to heat up, and slowly looking up, he saw that it was the younger Walsh. She was studying him.

She made him feel nervous.

"Wha'?" He demanded gruffly.

"You saw Merle in those woods, didn't you." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"Don't matter." Daryl shrugged, but Samantha was persistent.

"What did he say to you?" Telling by the look in her eyes, she already had an idea.

Daryl sighed, trying to look at anything else but her. Something about the way she looked at him made him feel like he can trust her, like he was important.

He didn't like the way she put him on a pedestal, he didn't like how she looked at him.

"Told me what I've been knowin'," Daryl said simply. "About me. About everyone."

"What did he tell you?"

"That I'm nothin'."

Silence.

Daryl looked back up and saw that she was staring at him still, but there was no pity on her expression, nor any judgement - there was understanding, and it made the same anger fume in his chest.

He didn't like it, not at all.

"Merle's drug dealer was this lanky little white guy, always tweakin'," Daryl started. "We was all wasted and watchin' this show. Somethin' about the show triggered him and Merle thought it was funny, so the tweaker punched Merle,"

He could remember that day clearly, a ball of humiliation dropping in his stomach.

"I started hittin' this dude, like real hard. He pulls a gun, threatenin' me and Merle pulls out his. Everyone is yellin' and screamin'," He paused, looking at the window near the front door.

He could faintly see the green of the trees and the dead. Behind them, the sun was almost behind the horizon. Daryl scoffed. "Thought I was a dead man over some stupid shit."

"How did you get out of it?"

Samantha eyebrows were knitted together, leaning in on the palm of her hands and listening tentatively. He's never seen someone look so interested in his conversation. Embarrassment blushed his cheeks and he averted his gaze. She was listening.

"Tweaker punched me in the gut and I vomited all over. Him and Merle laughed," Daryl answered, his stomach twisting and his mouth going dry. "Those things that Merle said in those woods - that's who I am. Always have been, always will be."

"I don't believe that."

Daryl looked at her again, perplexed. Blue clashed with green, colors swirling and creating many things, but he was too busy looking at her details. Her eyes reminded him of a pond he used to go to as a kid. The pond was blue, with trees reflecting on the water and giving it a bluish-green hue. There would always be a family of tadpoles under there, waiting to grow to be something more. That's what her eyes reminded him of - his favorite place.

During his silence, she continued,

"What I said back there in the woods, I didn't mean it. You're better than that. I was just so angry with you, so hurt that for a second I wanted you to hurt too, but you're far from being a piece of shit,"

Daryl was unable to form words, the determination in her voice kept him from doing so, yet it wasn't just that either. It was the way she looked at him - like she was looking at something that was full of worth.

Like there was something to look at.

"You saved me so many times, you've risked your neck for a girl you barely knew when others lost hope," A pretty smile was on her lips like a gold crown. "You may be a dick half of the time but I need you, this group needs you,"

Samantha scooted closer to him and sat on her knees, just her nearing presence making him shift in his seat.
The candle shine through her dark hair like a burning sun peeking through trees.

"You're not a bad person, you're not some stupid redneck, nor are you some white trashed hillbilly," She continued. "You're just simply you, and never think that's a bad thing."

His heart was going wild in his chest, her words falling from her lips like a gentle breeze through spring.

Samantha believed every word she said, and it made him feel of surge of anxiousness, because someone saw something in him that he couldn't see - and maybe that's why she had angered him so much, why he had disliked her at first.

Samantha made him question everything people had ever told him, and he just figured that out.

"Stupid, reckless girl."

Three words he used to describe her. Guiltless was foul in his mouth and made him writhe in his skin. She was definitely not those things.

She was Samantha Walsh, a girl that was more than three words.

"I bet ya say that to all the guys you met."

Samantha tilted her head, her outstretched lips widening. "Nah, just you," She said. "You're better than a lot of the men i've met, despite you being a dick."

A chuckle burned his throat. "You was just butterin' me up a second ago."

"You're pushing it," Samantha stated before standing up, going over to the window and peering out. "There's not that many of them out now. If we sneak out of the back door, I bet we can make it back to camp before it gets dark."

Daryl wasn't listening to her. He was too busy trying to build up his courage for his next decision. He had one more thing to do, one more mistake he had to make up for. "Samantha."

She turned to him, an eyebrow gently raising. "Yeah?"

Daryl stood up, gripping his crossbow. He licked his dry lips, building up his courage. The words he had said to her, his harshness, the bruise on her belly.

He didn't like this, it was uncharacteristic of him - she was the one that brought it out.

"I'm sorry."

━━━━━

That invisible weight had been uplifted from her shoulders after Daryl gave Samantha back her squirrel. You can say she kept her promise to Dale Harvoth about bringing a critter back.

Rick Grimes and Shane Walsh arrived back once the sun was barely in the sky - with Randall still with them, which the survivors didn't expect, but they also didn't expect for the two cops to come back looking all roughed up.

Samantha was a very curious woman, so curious that she wanted to ask what happened - but she's learned the hard way. She's learned that asking too many questions can lead to very bad, sanity gripping things.

Shane flinched when his baby sister ran the warm cloth on his face, muttering a curse under his breath.
"I'm fine." He said lowly, trying to stand up but Samantha was quick to grab his shoulders and push him back onto the porch steps.

"You look like you just left hell, and I'm here to clean up the leftovers," She said firmly, dipping the rag into the bowl. "Keep your inflating ego out of somethin' for once."

Shane scoffed before he finally stopped resisting, crossing his arms over his chest like a defiant child.
"I remember the last time you had to do this," He reminisced. "You were only ten years old."

Samantha pondered for a second, and that's when the memory came back. Shane had shown up at home late one night all bruised up just like he was now. It was a few hours after Jean's funeral, and to take out his grief he hit the local bar and got into a fight with one of the other guys there. He got roughed up pretty bad, but he promised her the other guy looked worse. She was the one that fixed him up.

"You were such a small little thing tryin' to act all mature." Shane said, grinning for a second before it dropped, his face going serious. "You shouldn't have seen that. I was being stupid."

"You're always stupid, Shane," Samantha stated. She met his eyes that were so different from hers, and smiled. "Either way, you're my brother, my responsibility."

Her big brother mirrored her smile, his expression softening at her words. "You remind me so much of her."

"Who?" Samantha questioned, tilting her head.

"Our mother."

She paused and pulled back from cleaning his wounds. Shane was never the one that spoke about their parents, never even liked keeping pictures of them around the house. Samantha barely knew anything about their parents, and despite her yearning - she kept quiet for her big brother.

Shane was the one who knew them, and he was the one that had to go through the grief and the pain before Samantha even knew the definition of those words. It was still very fresh for him too, and she dared not to reopen it - until now.

"We both seem to look like her so much, but over the years I've noticed that you seem to be like her more," There was a nostalgic smile pinned on his face. "She was a nurse. Her passions was helping people, but she never let anyone take advantage of that - had a spark just like a firecracker, and stubborn as hell."

Samantha's interest was peaked, yearning to know more about the same parents that gave her life while theirs was ripped away before they could be a part of hers. "What about our dad?"

The smile never faltered, not even for a second. "You have his eyes," Shane started. "He worked at the police department. Very gentle guy, but cracked the most God awful jokes."

"Oh, so that's where you got it from." Samantha jested.

"You're not funny." He stated, rolling his eyes and trying to conceal his obvious amusement.

"I'm hilarious." She laughed, a grin cutting into her cheeks.

Samantha's laughter soon died out and her thoughts become louder, mourning for the parents she never had and wondering where they all could've been if they were alive - wondering what it would've been if that drunk driver never struck them.

"Whatcha thinking about, Sammy?" Shane asked, acknowledging her silence with concern.

She bit her lip. "You think they would've been proud of us?"

Shane's brows furrowed, creating lines on his forehead. By the way he was thinking about it, he had been probably thinking about it too. "Yeah."

"What about me?" She asked almost meekly, her past creeping up behind her again and making her feel more ashamed to know that her parents were possibly watching somewhere.

"Of course!" He assured quickly. "Sure, you're stupid sometimes but you've grown into a great person."

It had already been cheesy, but the fact that Samantha was close to tears made it worse. "I'm glad we're in this together, big brother."

"Ain't getting rid of me anytime soon." Shane declared, ruffling her hair.

But what she didn't know then was that he was wrong, and life was too cruel to keep everyone you love in it.

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟnote

MY BABIES

words ; 4418
edited ; ✔️