Work Text:
Beth trudged behind the group, dragging herself along and kicking up swirling trails of dust. No one took her seriously. No one valued her input. The world had ended, she’d changed, but everyone still living assumed she’d remained frozen in time. Never growing up. A twisted version of Peter Pan, except this Neverland wasn't a dream come true. It was a nightmare scape of horror and endless, dragging, walking.
The group holed up for the night in an abandoned Denny's. The tables were still sticky-sweet with spilled syrup and cluttered with half-empty glasses and mugs. Beth took her shift at watch, sitting aside and watching Daryl and Rick watching the door. No one actually assigned her a watch, but she roused herself and stood guard just like everyone else. If they ever needed a break, they should know that she was capable. Willing. Self-respect was a kind of respect, and she would eat it up and fill her belly with it, even when there wasn't any other food on offer.
Earlier, they'd walked through the storage rooms and the pantry. No one opened the freezer or the giant walk-in cooler. The sounds of the dead moaned from behind those locked doors, and the food would be spoiled and rotten beyond reckoning. The canned items, condiments, and sauces had been removed already, so the group instead went to each table to pull the jelly and butter packets - sucking and licking the sweet gel from little, plastic tubs.
Beth coaxed more onto Carl and Lori. She'd watched Daryl and Rick and Carol give up their food too, and she’d thought - at least in this - they shared a mutual purpose. An acknowledgment that she was adult enough to make a sacrifice for a real child.