a_littlefaith | August 12

It's been over two months since she realized she was dead. Almost eight weeks since Daryl disappeared. A little over four weeks since he had come back and she'd realized he was another person entirely, not the man she had been set to marry. It's a lot to have happen to anyone in a two month period and for a time she'd felt completely lost, faltering in a way she hadn't liked. It had just seemed easier to crawl into bed and pull the blankets over her head so she wouldn't have to face the world or maybe to take after her father and drink herself into a state where she wouldn't have to care about any of it.

In the end, it's Maggie's example she'd decided to follow. One morning about two weeks ago, she had taken off the moonstone ring Daryl had given her, taken it off for good, and placed it back in the box it had come in. Then she had carefully, lovingly tucked the box in the drawer beside her bed and closed it away. It's what Maggie would have done. It isn't giving up, because Maggie never would have done that, but it's accepting the reality of what is instead of what used to be. Nothing she can do will change the Daryl who's here into the Daryl who left, she has to accept that.

Her sister would have told Beth to look after herself, not to forget about her own needs, so she'd put the ring away, knowing it's the fairest thing she can do for herself and for Daryl. Until she can talk to him about what they used to be, having that reminder of what had come before doesn't do anyone any good. So she takes the ring off and she tries to get back to normal.

Friday night rolls around and she has a gig at a small bar, about thirty minutes worth of material she's written in the past several months. None of the songs are about Daryl, she's been very careful about that, but she likes what she's written. Maybe some of this pain is worth it if it gives her good song writing material. When she sings she feels a little less childlike, a little more like an adult, and she has to wonder how much these past few months have forced her into growing up.

It's scary to think she hadn't felt this much like an adult before and it's sad to think that's what pain does to a person.

But she's smiling by the time she wraps up and her heart feels lighter than it has in some time. Her curls are clinging to her cheeks and her forehead and the back of her neck, the bar hot and damp, the night air warmer still, and as she heads away from the bar -- maybe she'll go home or maybe it's time for a weekend visit to one of her friends -- she finds she actually feels good. Not better, not normal, but good.

[I set it up to let people find her in a variety of places, whatever works best. Out on the street, in the bar where she's playing, at her apartment or their apartment if they'd want her to come visit.]

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For a second when the girl speaks to Beth, there's a glimmer of a memory, some spark of recognition, but almost as soon as it occurs it's gone. She smiles, though, pleased and embarrassed both by the praise and her cheeks go a little pink as the bartender passes her a glass of water. She takes a sip, then looks over at the girl and shrugs, even though the pleasure is clear in her expression.

"Thank you," she says happily, leaning her elbows on the bar before she brushes some of her damp hair out of her face. It's been a long time since she's felt this good and it's not something she wants to lose, not yet. It's something she needs to hang onto, at least for tonight. Nothing is any better, nothing is any easier, she still needs to find a way to reconcile her life the way it is now, but she's finding little ways to deal and that's important.

"It's the first time I've played in a little while," she admits. "I was kinda nervous."

"I never would have guessed," Kara assures her brightly, turning a little more towards Beth. This is always a little awkward, running into people who know her as Supergirl. It's just another thing that she's had to get used to. "I'm Kara. I just got here. To Darrow, I mean. Not the bar."

The server sets down two big bags of take out, and Kara laughs a little as she drags them closer. "Still in the eating my feelings stage, I guess. Maybe acceptance is next?"

"I'm Beth," she says, giving Kara a smile and then laughing as the bags are set down. It looks like enough food for more than a few people, but she understands what Kara is saying. Whenever her mom was feeling particularly blue over something -- Maggie leaving for college had hit her hard -- she'd sit down on the porch and eat more food than Beth could have ever imagined her putting away otherwise. It was her little ritual, she'd said, a chance to just be in her feelings for a night so she could accept them and deal better in the morning.

Her mother had been really good at a lot of things, but understanding herself had been near the top of the list, and Beth had always admired her for that. She wishes she could have learned more of that before Annette had died.

"It's hard sometimes," she admits. "Accepting this place. A lot of people had it better before, I can understand why they'd wanna leave."

"Hi Beth," she says with a smile. She isn't sure what to say, but fortunately Beth keeps talking. Unfortunately, what she says makes Kara's throat tighten and it takes her a few tries to be able to speak. "Yeah, I had it pretty great."

The wording sort of filters through her own grief and she furrows her brow curiously. "Doesn't sound like you're talking about yourself. Do you not want to leave?"

"No," she says. "I don't wanna leave."

Of course it's more complicated than that. She misses Maggie and Glenn so much, everyone really, but at the same time she knows that version of Georgia is not good for anyone. Darrow has given her a whole life she knows she never would have had otherwise.

"It's not good where I come from," she explains. "Everything's kinda fallen apart. The whole world."

"Oh," Kara says dumbly, frowning a bit as her fingers curl into the plastic bags holding her food. Somehow it hadn't really occurred to her that people may prefer it here. There are people from so many different worlds here, or different dimensions and places in space and time, that it makes sense that not all of them would be good.

If she tries to think objectively, she can see how this place might not be so bad if you didn't have a better place waiting for you. "I'm sorry to hear that," she says after a moment. She's glad that some people are at peace here, even if she isn't. "My world had its fair share of problems, but it wasn't quite broken."

"I'm sorry you can't get back," Beth replies. "I know a lot of people wish they could go home and this place... well, it isn't always the best in some ways. I dunno if anyone's told you, but sometimes people disappear from here, just like we all appeared. That part sucks a lot."

She wasn't supposed to think about it, not tonight. Everything has been so good so far and she wants to keep it going, but she can feel it draining away. Daryl had yelled at her for keeping the secret about them and she'd felt as if he had slapped her, but there's no fixing it. Nothing she does will fix any of it.

"No, I didn't know that," Kara replies. It's obvious that Beth is speaking from experience, and Kara feels for her. It's never easy to lose someone. And now she feels bad for bringing down the mood, and she really wants to fix it.

"Hey, um--" She bites her lip and then pulls the food over, giving Beth a hopeful smile. "Are you done here? Do you maybe want to come over and help me eat some of this?"

Darrow has been good to Beth in a lot of ways, not the least of which is that she's made a lot of friends. She always knows that if she's having a particularly bad night, she can send out some texts and someone is bound to respond, to have a little free time to spend with her, but she's certainly not adverse to making new friends and she smiles at the invitation, then nods.

"Yeah, okay," she agrees. "I'm all done and that'd be real nice. Which building do you live in?" Maybe they' neighbours. That would be rather nice. Most of her friends live in Candlewood, which had been pretty convenient until suddenly Darrow had put Daryl there, too, and now it's mostly awkward when she goes to visit them, always worried she might run into him.

"Really? Awesome," Kara says with a genuine smile. She misses girl time with Alex and while Beth isn't her sister, it'll still do her some good. "I'm in Chelsea Cloisters. The place is still pretty empty. Looks the same as when I got here."

She can't really bring herself to make it personal just yet, and she doesn't really have the money anyway. "But there's a couch and a TV, and lots of ice cream in the freezer. That's all we need, right?"

Beth thinks of her own apartment, the one that had felt so full not all that long ago, with a Christmas tree and a family dinner, Rick and Michonne and Daryl, Carl and Judith, all of them crowded around a table eating a meal she'd put together. The meal hadn't been very good, but it had been a home, a family, and now it's just the three of them. Everyone else is gone.

Their apartment is filled with things, but it's not the same. She'd give up all of it, her guitar, the piano, their furniture, all of it if it meant having the others back.

"That's all I need," she agrees with a smile, hefting her guitar case. "I'm all ready, I like to travel light."

August 12

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