If he thought she needed to know it, he wouldn't hesitate. But whatever Beth needs to tell her, she'll do in her own time. Everything they shared out there-- the ugly shit's easier to brush away already, leave it behind like she said they ought to.
Maybe the tattoos weren't such a bad idea after all.
Nodding, he twists his arm a bit so she can see it better. For someone who'd never been near a tattoo needle before that day she did a decent job. He can't quite muster a smile but it comes close; like it touches his eyes but not his mouth.
"She did all right out there," he says, softly, seriously. Maggie oughta know that much-- that Beth was a help out there, not a burden.
She looks over the design. A Cherokee rose--it reminds her of home before anything else, and all the flowers coming out when spring started in earnest. For Daryl, she's sure, it's something else, but for Beth...who knows? It's pretty good, considering who did it. Where she did it, for that matter.
Maggie glances back up when he speaks again, nodding slightly.
"She had you." If Beth had run off from the prison alone, Maggie's not sure they'd have had this chance. Daryl gave her the chance she needed, and maybe an opportunity to do more than just survive the elements. They came back alive, but more than that, they're both changed. Setting a hand lightly on his shoulder, she adds, "Thanks."
In a sense she's not wrong; the flower on his mind came from the grounds around her farm. It's everything that ended and everything that started there. He'd chosen it thinking of loss; it's luck, maybe, that he was wrong about the scale of it. That so many of them got out, pulled through, found each other. It still suits him-- he's still glad for it. Everything it could mean, even if it doesn't mean what he thought.
Relieved it's not all he has to remember Beth, and the rest of them.
"Glad I had her," he murmurs, quiet again, flat and factual. He'd come far too close out there to giving up, and he knows damn well if he hadn't had Beth to look after-- well, who knows. He might've pulled through. Surprised himself. But he credits his survival to her as much as the other way around, at least.
But he doesn't wanna drag it down so he picks up a bit, juts his chin back in Beth's direction.
Maggie snorts. "I'd be more impressed if you screwed it up. Only one way to spell it."
It must've taken a long time, sitting there and doing one dot at a time, and that's nice to think about, in a way. They had a couple hours out there when they were happy. They must have--they'd have shown up with half a tattoo, not two of them, under worse circumstances.
Well, true. It's strange to look on anything after the prison fell with such fondness, but they had been happy. As happy as anyone lost could be, he figures; still alive, and that's what it always comes back to.
He halfway wants to say he's sorry for having lost her, but the words dry up before he can put them into the right shape. No point focusing on that. She knows, anyway. He'd have done anything to keep Beth safe-- to keep any of them safe. Should've done more.
"Let her get us drunk," he admits, and doesn't have the grace to sound particularly guilty about it. She'd probably find out eventually anyway.
Maggie's brows shoot up, something tightening in her chest. Drunk. It's the kind of thing they might have argued about, under better circumstances. After every story Dad told you, you went off and got drunk in the woods?
But these aren't great circumstances, and if anything's screwed her sister up lately, it's nothing that happened with Daryl looking out for her. If Beth had to get drunk, she could've picked worse company.
She's silent, taking the measure of Daryl's expression, and then she shrugs. "How'd that happen?"
Yeah. Knowing their father, it's not a surprise that she's so taken aback. If Hershel Greene were alive-- well, that's the problem.
"She was grievin'," he murmurs, lifting his shoulder in a shrug. Makes perfect sense to him. Sometimes that drives you to dumb shit, leaves you a little crazy. She'd lost goddamn everything, she needed a break from being who she was. Maybe both of them did.
With any luck both of them came through it stronger.
They all had their moments of lunatic determination after the prison's fall, she suspects, even if they only happened inside their own heads. Can she really begrudge Beth hers? It was stupid--really damned stupid--but at least she wasn't doing it alone.
And it was living. It's not what happened at the farm. Even if it was risky, it wasn't about trying to die. For that much, Maggie can be grateful.
"Mm," she agrees, glancing over at her sister again. What matters is that they've got her back. If her little adventures with Daryl become a problem in the future, that's when they'll handle them. In the future. The smile she gives Daryl is soft-edged, a little on the tired side. "We all will be. Just need some time."
Really damn stupid, but they needed it. Same with-- well, everything out there. Maggie had her chance at teen rebellion before everything went to shit; it's not the same, but it is in a way.
She's not just one of the kids now. Not to him, not to herself.
"Some time and some place," he murmurs, a shadow passing over his features for a moment. It's hard to imagine starting over-- building a home from scratch again, trying to find some semblance of safety.
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Maybe the tattoos weren't such a bad idea after all.
Nodding, he twists his arm a bit so she can see it better. For someone who'd never been near a tattoo needle before that day she did a decent job. He can't quite muster a smile but it comes close; like it touches his eyes but not his mouth.
"She did all right out there," he says, softly, seriously. Maggie oughta know that much-- that Beth was a help out there, not a burden.
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Maggie glances back up when he speaks again, nodding slightly.
"She had you." If Beth had run off from the prison alone, Maggie's not sure they'd have had this chance. Daryl gave her the chance she needed, and maybe an opportunity to do more than just survive the elements. They came back alive, but more than that, they're both changed. Setting a hand lightly on his shoulder, she adds, "Thanks."
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Relieved it's not all he has to remember Beth, and the rest of them.
"Glad I had her," he murmurs, quiet again, flat and factual. He'd come far too close out there to giving up, and he knows damn well if he hadn't had Beth to look after-- well, who knows. He might've pulled through. Surprised himself. But he credits his survival to her as much as the other way around, at least.
But he doesn't wanna drag it down so he picks up a bit, juts his chin back in Beth's direction.
"Least I spelled it right."
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It must've taken a long time, sitting there and doing one dot at a time, and that's nice to think about, in a way. They had a couple hours out there when they were happy. They must have--they'd have shown up with half a tattoo, not two of them, under worse circumstances.
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He halfway wants to say he's sorry for having lost her, but the words dry up before he can put them into the right shape. No point focusing on that. She knows, anyway. He'd have done anything to keep Beth safe-- to keep any of them safe. Should've done more.
"Let her get us drunk," he admits, and doesn't have the grace to sound particularly guilty about it. She'd probably find out eventually anyway.
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But these aren't great circumstances, and if anything's screwed her sister up lately, it's nothing that happened with Daryl looking out for her. If Beth had to get drunk, she could've picked worse company.
She's silent, taking the measure of Daryl's expression, and then she shrugs. "How'd that happen?"
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"She was grievin'," he murmurs, lifting his shoulder in a shrug. Makes perfect sense to him. Sometimes that drives you to dumb shit, leaves you a little crazy. She'd lost goddamn everything, she needed a break from being who she was. Maybe both of them did.
With any luck both of them came through it stronger.
"Ain't so bad. She'll be all right."
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And it was living. It's not what happened at the farm. Even if it was risky, it wasn't about trying to die. For that much, Maggie can be grateful.
"Mm," she agrees, glancing over at her sister again. What matters is that they've got her back. If her little adventures with Daryl become a problem in the future, that's when they'll handle them. In the future. The smile she gives Daryl is soft-edged, a little on the tired side. "We all will be. Just need some time."
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She's not just one of the kids now. Not to him, not to herself.
"Some time and some place," he murmurs, a shadow passing over his features for a moment. It's hard to imagine starting over-- building a home from scratch again, trying to find some semblance of safety.
But they can't stay on the road forever.