Chapter 1
Daryl had made plans to go out on a run for supplies. Things that people needed, things that they wanted. It was going to be a small run, so he decided to go out on it alone. Of course, Rick and the others tried to protest, but arguing with a Dixon will get you absolutely nowhere. It'll just leave you pissed off and feeling defeated.
The group had made a home for themselves at the church. It wasn't exactly their idea of a five star place to call a home, but it was something. And it would have to do until something better came along. If something better came along.
They had a place to lay there heads down and a roof above their heads. They were doing better than they had been in months. No one could complain. But they were out of other things, and that's why Daryl had decided to go out on a run. He told everyone to write down what they needed and to give him a list of things to look for.
When everyone Maggie handed him the list with everyone's items on it, he assured her, and everyone else, that he'd be back soon and headed out of the church. He walked over to the van that they had fixed up and got into the driver's side and put the key into the ignition. He turned the key to start the engine, then pulled out onto the open road.
If he was being honest, he was glad that he was getting some time to himself. The chruch was pretty well packed and there was really no place that he could go to just be alone. Being surrounded by so many people kept him on edge and he felt anxious most of the time. It wasn't that the people upset him, because they didn't. They were his family and he cared for each and every one of them. He'd give his life for any of them without giving it a second thought. It was just the way he'd always been, for as long as he could remember. He knew that his childhood, his father, and even his brother had a lot to do with the way that he retreated into himself when he was around other people.
He couldn't remember a time when he wasn't anxious around someone. No, wait. Yes he could. Once. Around Beth Greene, on the porch that night and at the funeral home.
He didn't know why, but he was able to open up around her. He was able to breathe around her. He felt like he could tell her anything and everything. And he wouldn't have to sugarcoat it or skip over any parts that may be disturbing or surprising to other people. He knew that he could talk to her and she would listen, without judgement.
God, he missed her. He'd never admit it outloud or to anyone else, but he missed her. He missed the way that she would sing whenever things got bad, or the way that she'd smile at everything, no matter how big or how small. The way that she was able to make him see the world in a newer, better way. The way that she was able to make him feel hopeful again.
But of course, nothing good can ever seem to stay in his life, so naturally, she was taken from him. It wasn't just some twisted act of fate or some shit like that, though. It was his fault. He's the one who opened the door without checking to see what was outside first. He's the one who told her to run and to go on ahead without him. He's the reason that she had gotten taken in the first place.
Is this the kind of world that they had to live in now? Wasn't it bad enough that the dead had risen to eat the living and that people killed people for the smallest of reasons? Was there not enough evilness in the world already, so someone had to take it up another unnecessary notch, and kidnap an innocent girl?
He was so tired of the world and everything that it had become. He thought he was tired of the world before everything started to go south, but he had no idea. And now, the one person who could make him feel like this world was worth living in, the one person who made light shine in the darkest of times, was gone.
As he pulled into the parking lot of the Dollar Mart that the group had passed a few days ago, his senses went into overdrive as he looked around for walkers or any other signs that could've indicated that the place may not have been as safe as he'd thought. The coast was clear, though. But that only made him become even more aware of his surroundings. These days, if something seemed too good to be true, it probably was.
He got out of the van and shouldered his bow. He pulled out the list of things that he was supposed to get, just to double check and make sure that he still had it. When he was sure that he did, he put it back into his pocket and began walking toward the entrance to the store.
The doors were locked and chained. Daryl thought that was weird, for a Dollar Mart. But he didn't complain too much. Chains on the door meant less of a chance that there were walkers, or people, inside.
With the feeling of gratefullness that the chained doors provided, the feeling of dread soon followed. He didn't know how he was going to get the chains off of the door, but he knew that he had to get inside somehow. This place would probably be the only sure bet that he, and the group, would get for a long time, if ever again.
He thought about breaking the windows with his bow, but quickly pushed that idea out of his head as he realized that the sound of glass breaking would definitely attract some unwanted dead pricks his way. He scratched his chin and let out a groan as he tried to think up another solution.
The lock on the chains were rusted, so there was no way of picking it and breaking in the easy way. But since it was so rusted, maybe he'd be able to break it off. It wasn't exactly on his list of things that he was most excited to do, because much like breaking a window, it would be loud. But not as loud. So he decided that it was worth the try. And sure enough, with a few swings and hits with the end of his bow and many frustrated grunts and groans, the lock broke off and the chains fell to the ground. He pushed on the door and sighed heavily when they didn't open.
"You've gotta be kiddin' me."
He grunted as he tried to push them open. Not a chance of that happening. He finally gave up and decided that he'd already made enough noise, what was a little more going to hurt?
He used his bow to knock out the glass closest to the handle on one of the doors, then reached an arm through to try to open it from the inside. When it worked, he breathed out a sigh of relief. His next plan was to say fuck it and to break a window.
He grabbed one of the shopping carts and began to push it around the store. To his surprise, the store was still very well stocked. He guess that had a lot to do with the fact that there were chains on the door. He pulled out the list again and began to gather up things that everyone had requested. Of course, food and water were on the list. Along with essentials for Judith and the women. Unfortunately, Daryl lacked knowledge in baby care, and in feminine products. He was sure that no matter what he picked up, they'd manage and be just as grateful.
He took care of those items first and threw them all into the shopping cart. After all of that was said and done, he headed toward the aisles with canned food. He gathered as much as he could and put as much into the cart as he could fit, remembering to leave room for water. After finding the water and putting it into the cart as well, he couldn't help but to crack a half-smile. This felt like Christmas to him. Not that he'd actually ever known what Christmas had felt like, but he imagined that it would be something close to the way he was feeling now and the way that the group would feel when he brought everything back to them.
He looked back down at his list and to the last item on it. When he realized what it said, his jaw dropped and he shook his head. He shoved the list back into his pocket and then pushed the cart back toward the feminine products. Once there, he let out a frustrated sigh. He'd visited this aisle enough in the past ten minutes and he never wanted to visit it again.
"Jesus Christ." He muttered, grabbing a box that read Pregnancy Test on it and throwing it into the cart.
After he was sure that he'd gotten everything that was on the list, he opened the door and pushed the cart out. But when he did, he came face to face with herd of walkers. They were surrounding the van, but when they heard the wheels of his shopping cart inching across the ground, every single one of them turned in Daryl's direction. He should've known that this place was too good to be true.
"Shit!" He half whispered, half screamed. He had to act fast.
There was no way that he could take them on. Not this many, and defintiely not by himself. He couldn't go back into the store either, they'd just follow him in there. And even if he were able to shut and barricade the door, there were too many of them. They'd just break the glass and push the shelves over. So, he decided to do the next best thing that he could think of. Run like hell.
He ran as fast as his legs would carry him and he didn't stop. At least, not until he saw another herd coming his way. What in the actual hell was up with all of these walkers? He turned around to see if the coast was clear behind him, but it wasn't. He couldn't go forward, he couldn't go backward and as far as he could see, going sideways wasn't an option either. He was stuck with no way out.
Beth was mopping the hallway floors when she saw Dawn and Dr. Edwards wheel in another patient. Dr. Edwards called out her name and motioned for her to come and be of assistiance. Beth threw down the mop and raced to his side. When she got there, she couldn't contain the surprised gasp that escaped past her lips or help the fact that her eyes widened as if she'd just been blinded by headlights as she saw who was lying on the stretcher. Daryl Dixon.
Beth helped them wheel him into a room and get him onto a hospital bed. She wasted no time before bombarding them with questions.
"Was he bit?" That was the first question out of her mouth.
Dawn shook her head. "No. Shepherd and a few other officers found him in the middle of two herds of rotters. It's a miracle that they found him in time. Just a few more seconds, and this man might not have made it."
Dawn was just standing there, watching as Dr. Edwards did all of the work. Beth could tell that Dawn was intimidated by how large Daryl was. She knew that Dawn saw him as a threat. And she should. Dawn wouldn't try to help Dr. Edwards and she might even tell him to let it go, and say that he wasn't worth wasting their valuable resources on. But Beth would be damned if she'd let that happen. If Dawn or Dr. Edwards tried to protest against her helping or trying to save his life, she was sure that she'd be knocking someone out with an IV pole.
"Jesus." Beth mumbled. "He's bleedin'." She said, pulling on Dr. Edwards's arm, trying to turn his attention to Daryl's blood splattered forehead.
Dr. Edwards examined the man's head, attempting to feel for knots or any other sign that he could have a concussion. Without the proper testing needed to detect these kinds of things, there was no way to be sure. He sighed as his fingers slid over a medium sized knot on the side of his head, along with an open wound, that seemed rather deep, at the top of his forehead near the knot.
"Beth, prep a stitching needle for me. I need to get this wound cleaned and closed up to prevent infection." Dr. Edwards ordered.
Beth began to do as she was told without any hesitation. The wound on Daryl's forehead worried her. It looked like a scratch and she wasn't ready to face that possibility. She wasn't sure that she would ever be. She'd just gotten him back. And although it may not have been under the best circumstances, he was here, and she had him. She couldn't get him back and lose him all in the same day.
Daryl Dixon was one tough son of a bitch, and she knew it. He'd pull through this. She knew that Dr. Edwards would do what he had to do to make sure that Daryl lived. She'd make damn sure of it, too.
She took a deep breath. "That wound," She began, pointing to the ripped open skin on his forehead, "It looks like a scratch. Is it..?"
Dr. Edwards looked from his patient that was lying on the bed, and then to Beth. He could hear the tone of pure sincerity and worry in her voice. But he didn't mention it. He just simply shook his head and answered her question. "No. If it were, he'd be running a fever by now. His temperature is normal. His blood pressure, though. That's a different story."
He held one of his hands toward Beth, reaching for the needle and thread.
Beth cocked an eyebrow at the doctor as she handed the stitching needle to him.
He could sense her confusion and continured to explain further as he began to sew the opened skin on Daryl's forehead back together. "My guess? Being surrounded by two herds of rotters with no way out caused him to go into a panic attack. Which then led to him passing out and falling to the ground, causing the knot, a possible concussion, and head wounds."
Beth shifted her eyes away from the doctor and down to Daryl. "But he's gonna be okay, right?"
Dr. Edwards gave her a nod. "He should be. His injuries don't seem too serious."
Once the doctor had finished taking care of Daryl, he and Dawn left the room. And although Beth wanted to stay, she followed them out. She couldn't risk them finding out that she knew him. She wasn't sure what would happen if they found out, but she wasn't willing to risk it. She had more than just herself to worry about now.
That night, though, she was on duty to make nightly rounds and check on all of the patients. She had to make sure that they had enough blankets, food, water, things of that nature. Once she was finished visiting everyone else, she made her way to Daryl's room. When she entered, she closed the door behind her and then went to sit beside of him on the edge of the bed.
She watched his chest rise and fall and her lips curved into a smile. She felt like an idiot for being so happy over watching someone breathe. She felt a little creepy, too. But she shook her head and remembered that it was the little things like this that made her the happiest these days. She was so glad that he was alive. She'd never say it out loud, but she was worried that he might not have made it out that night back at the funeral home. And she wasn't sure she would ever get the privilege to see him breathe again.
She placed her hand over his and gave it a gentle squeeze and whispered, "I'm here, Daryl. I'm here."
God, she'd missed him. She'd never thought much about it before, but the time that they'd spent together after the prison made her realize that she really enjoyed his company. She enjoyed how he was able to open up when he was around her. She'd seen the side of him that she didn't think anyone else had ever seen, or ever would get to see. It wasn't just the fact that he could open up around her, but she could do the same when she was around him. Sure, she could talk to other people about her feelings, but not when it really mattered. She kept things to herself, too. Much like he did.
She'd never had anyone in her life that made her feel like he did. He didn't treat her as if she were weak and needed to be protected. He knew that she was strong and that she could take care of herself. She'd known that, too. For the most part, at least. It was just so hard for her to see it when she was at the prison because everyone saw her as the weakest, as the most incapable. But when she was with Daryl, she realized that she wasn't those things. She saw herself in a whole new light. She saw herself that way because that's how he saw her.
When she felt Daryl's fingers twitch under hers, she grinned and looked up at him. She gave his hand another squeeze and said, "Good mornin', sleepy head."
His eyelids slowly lifted themselves up. His vision was blurry and all he could see was the ceiling above him and a few lights that were all too bright. He could hear the beeping of the heart monitor. That confused him. It was the end of the damn world, there were no hospitals.
When he shifted his gaze from the ceiling to straight in front of him and saw Beth Greene's smiling face, he damn near had a heart attack. The heart monitor's beeping sped up and he blinked a few times. Hard. He was dreaming. He had to be. Either that, or he had died and went to Heaven. Which didn't make sense, because he was sure that he was going to Hell.
"Beth?" His voice was weak, strained.
She nodded and flashed him a bright, reassuring smile. "Yeah, it's me."
He still didn't believe it. Even if it really were Beth, how the hell was he in a hospital? And how the hell did he get here, with her?
"Where the hell am I?" He asked, becoming all too aware of the excruciating pain in his cranium that hit him all at once.
He groaned and lifted his free hand up to touch the source of the pain. He allowed his fingers to glide over the knot on the side of his head and across the stitched up skin on his forehead.
"You're at Grady Memorial." She wanted to give him a better explaination and tell him everything all at once, but she decided that it would be better to give it to him in small doses.
"How the hell did I get here?"
"They brought you in earlier. Said somethin' about you bein' caught between some herds of walkers. Dr. Edwards thinks you had a panic attack and passed out, which is why you've got the head injuries."
Daryl closed his eyes and nodded his head. He remembered now. He thought for sure he was dead as soon as he realized he couldn't get away from the herds. He remembered not being able to breathe, and then.. and then everything was a blur.
After he was finished trying to recall what had happened, his eyes widened and he sat up so fast that it made Beth's head spin.
"Where's my bow?" He asked, becoming more alert as his eyes scanned the room for it.
Beth rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Are you kiddin' me? You almost died and you're more worried about your bow? Daryl, the bow can be replaced. You can't."
"That's real touchin', now where's my bow?" He questioned, glancing over at the small blonde, shooting her a look that told her he was more than serious.
She shrugged and let out a sigh. "I'm not sure. It could be back at the place where you fell, or they could've taken it-"
He cut her off. "What the hell do you mean they could've taken it? It ain't theirs, they got no right."
"None of that seems to matter here. The took my knife, took my freedom."
He shot her a confused look. How could someone "take" her freedom?
She sighed. "They keep tellin' me that when I work off what I owe, I can leave. But it's bullshit. The more you take, the more you owe. And I know you're gonna ask me why I take anythin' if that's the case, but it don't matter. You're stuck here, even if you don't take anythin'."
"You never tried to get out?" He didn't know why he even asked that question. He knew she'd have tried to get out by now.
She started to answer the question he already knew the answer to. "'Course I did. Me and this kid, Noah. We tried. He got out, but clearly, I didn't."
Daryl's vision began to become clear and he gave Beth's face a once over. He brought a hand up and ran his fingers across the stitched up slits of skin that were on her cheek and forehead. "Jesus. What happened, Greene?"
Beth just shook her head. She knew that if she told him, he'd raise hell over it and they'd never get out of there. She quickly decided to save this conversation for when they were safe, if they were ever going to be that way again. "Doesn't matter."
"Yes it does. Who did this to you?" He wasn't asking anymore, he was demanding.
"This place ain't what it seems," She began, attempting to change the subject, "It's not a hospital that helps people outta the kindness of their hearts. This place, the people.. they're bad."
"We'll get outta here, Greene. Ain't nothin' we can't do. You know that." Daryl said, not only trying to reassure her, but himself as well.
Beth gave him a nod and then let out a small, quiet laugh. "You know, when I first got here, after they told me you weren't with me, I told myself that you'd find me. I knew you would. I just didn't think you'd be in here screwed right along with me."