Life I Left Behind (A Daryl Dixon Story)

Chapter Sixty-Three

Author's Note: 

Guess what, it's me! FINALLY! I know, I know. I've been pretty sucky at updating lately, but I've been working really hard and hopefully I can get back to updating at least once a week now. As always, thank you a ton for being so amazingly patient! To anyone who's left comments or voted, I love you. To any new followers, welcome to the gang and the wonderful ship that is Darlie. Before we get to the story, though, there is one minor thing I'd like to address....

Sooooooo.....Charlie's pregnant. I really was not expecting so many people to be against that. I honestly had no idea this was a common thing in Daryl fanfic. I mean, I've read a lot and I've only ever come across one story where the girl actually gets knocked up. That being said, it was almost sort of the plan that this would happen all along. It seemed like the right course to take. I'm sorry to those of you who feel it's a cliche and don't like it. I can't change it and I wouldn't even if I wanted to. Just have faith in my decisions, okay? Okay. Glad we all got past that. Phew.

Now we can get onto the chapter.

Enjoy biscuits, next time I won't make you wait so long.

-Nikki

Charlie

Daryl trailed quietly after me as I made my way towards Beth’s cell, my stomach twisted into knots. I practiced reciting the words over and over in my head. I couldn’t think of anything, though, that would make what I was about to tell her any easier. There was never a good way to let a person know that someone they cared about was gone. I slowed to a stop outside her cell door and looked over my shoulder at Daryl. He gave me a quick nod. His way of encouraging me to just get it over with. I sucked in a deep breath and stepped into the doorway.

“Hey.” I said softly.

She was sprawled on her bed, scribbling away in a notebook. Despite it being a prison cell, her room resembled almost exactly what mine looked like when I’d been a teenager…clothes everywhere, books piled on the floor, and pictures and drawings tacked to the wall. She looked up at me, blonde curls spilling over one shoulder. Her eyes searched my face and shifted towards Daryl behind me. I saw understanding suddenly register in her expression.

Her face fell for a moment before she was sitting up, smoothing back her hair. “It’s Zach. He’s dead, isn’t he?” When she looked back at me again, there was no trace of sadness or shock. Nothing.

I hesitated before nodding slowly. “I’m so sorry, Beth. There was nothing any of us could’ve done. It happened so fast.” My voice shook just slightly, hopefully unnoticeable to anyone other than myself. 

She reached out then and grabbed my hand. “It’s alright, Charlie.” She gave my hand a squeeze and I knew the surprise on my face was obvious. 

This was not the reaction I’d been expecting. This was not the emotion I’d been preparing myself to deal with. She let out a breath before standing and crossing the room. She had an old sign balanced on top of a shelf…one of those old factory signs that kept track of how many days without an accident. I watched as she changed the number from 30 to 0. I snuck a glance back at Daryl again to see him watching her with eyebrows furrowed. Like me, trying to figure her out. Was there no emotion there at all or was she burying it too deep to surface?