This where I am going to collect all my 12 days of Bethyl oneshots. And if you haven't heard of this, it's on tumblr. I absolutely loved the choices of the prompts so I wrote some of my own because I never was able to join in on the fun of the official bethyl week a while back. I highly encourage everyone to join in for the 12 days of bethyl! Some of these oneshots will be nice…others will be a bit naughty (if you know what I mean, wink, wink).
I hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing these. Again, they will all be oneshots and not related to each other so every chapter will be a different prompt.
Prompt: GIFT.
When he dropped to his knees a couple feet from her grave, the weight of the world settled down onto him in the worst way. He didn't want to leave the place he was at right now, didn't want to obey what Rick said when he announced they were moving on, much to Maggie's dismay. Daryl remembered the grim and tortured sight of Maggie holding Beth's lifeless body, clinging onto her for dear life the same way she had been for at least twenty four hours straight, right on the floor of the woods, not moving. Her faced had been twisted up with pain ever since Daryl brought Beth out of the hospital. Daryl had seen how Maggie was consumed by sadness and leaned to rest her temples on Beth's chest to cry as the grave had been dug. Daryl saw everything (partially because he was too weak and could not keep his eyes from wandering back over to the dead blonde girl who he had come to fall in love with).
Maggie didn't want to leave either, but for the reason that she could not bring herself up from the ground where she sat and cried and also held a knife at her side a little bit too tightly until Glenn also took that away from her, out of fear she would harm herself. Apparently there had been an incident when Daryl was off in the woods where Maggie had held a gun to her chest until she was talked out of it by Glenn and Rick.
She was suicidal now, that was clear, repeating how she wanted to be buried with Beth over and over again, tears streaming down her face, eyes red and puffy, chest heaving. Maggie would not survive this loss, that was what Daryl painstakingly concluded. It only made him sadder, but he understood completely the desire to be with Beth in a final resting place. He would be a liar if he said he had not thought a quick bullet to his head might ease the pain.
It was a tempting thought.
Very tempting…
One second and it would be all over, everything.
But he didn't do it, even though he was weak now. Beth's death took the strength from him and left him a complete mess, but he knew that Beth would not want Daryl to end his life. So he didn't do it.
Daryl was hurting.
He was in deep pain.
He was devastated.
In fact, the world around him made no sense anymore. It did not exactly make sense before but it really didn't after the burial.
In utter ruin, his heart was in shreds. He almost did not even care what happened next. Not one ounce of him cared if they continued to D.C or if they stayed in Georgia, if he was attacked by a walker or if he lived. However, leaving would only make it worse. That meant he would be even farther from her. And that thought makes him sick to the stomach, so much so that he threw up right there off to the side, a mixture of bile, blood and water coming up. The blood was there because that was the fourth time he had thrown up on an empty stomach in the past twenty four hours. Losing Beth did that too him—made him emotionally and physically sick.
His chance at happiness died too, died with Beth. The glimmer for hope for them vanished.
Yet there he was again, back at the grave. Daryl was forcing himself to let the guilt in, guilt for not checking the door before opening it at the funeral home, guilt for not looking for Beth sooner, guilt for not keeping her safe at the hospital during the exchange, and guilt for not letting her know how he felt about her. He loved that girl and now she was gone.
Gone.
Beth.
And he still loved her, even more than before.
Daryl hung his head towards the cold ground, defeated. He closed his eyes and prayed for the first time in his whole entire life, prayed that Beth was in a safer place now and that whoever was in charge would make sure she was okay, do a better job at it than he did when Beth was alive. Maybe Hershel was with her and she was safe again.
Tears ran down Daryl's face as he got to his feet, still not ready to leave but knew he would be missed soon. They had to leave. Daryl had to leave. There was nowhere else to go but north, according to Rick.
He didn't take one last look at the fresh grave that contained the body of the woman he fell in love with. It would be too much. Seeing it again might cause him to lose it altogether.
One step away from her. Another stab to the heart.
In that moment he realized the pain would never end; it would be there until the day he died. As the tears fell onto his cheeks, Daryl weakly slung the crossbow back over his shoulder after it started to fall off. He remembered teaching Beth how to use the weapon, how good she had gotten with it. She was a natural with the crossbow. He only wished he had more time to teach her.
Too short of a life
Not enough time.
He punched a nearby tree out of rage and several other emotions he could not place a label to.
Daryl's footing dragged as he took more steps away. He would never be back here, he knew that. They had to move on. Physically move on. Daryl would never emotionally move on or recover from this. The loss of Beth would forever be etched into is heart and soul, his very being.
He would never look at the woods the same way either, not when it would remind him of the burial, of the body in the ground they were leaving in Georgia.
A thumping sound made him stop dead in his tracks. It was barely audible, almost not even there, to the point where Daryl thought he was hearing things that were not actually there, a side effect of going through emotional trauma. But, no, the sound persisted. Light and quiet.
It couldn't be.
Daryl twisted his body back to face the grave where the pile of dirt on top was unevenly distributed by an angry and upset Maggie, who had yanked the shovel out of Rick's hands and quite violently buried the wooden coffin as her eyes had welled up with water and her sobs made her lose her breath.
Daryl slowly and cautiously stepped back over towards the grave, setting his eyes on it fully, face unchanged. There was a moment of silence where Daryl's heart had skipped a beat and his breathing had ceased.
Waiting.
The noise came again and he finally recognized that it was some kind of pressure hitting against another object—a fist against wood.
Daryl did not hesitate.
With his bare hands, Daryl frantically dug the dirt away, throwing it in every direction. The smell of the fresh soil invaded his nostrils and that time it did not make him sick like it had when he smelled it as Rick, Abraham, and Glenn had put the small coffin into the ground. His nails filled up with the soil as he dug, and dug, and dug. He probably looked crazy from the outside looking in, but none of that mattered. If he was right, then it would change everything.
Daryl got to the coffin quicker than he had expected, yet not soon enough, in his opinion. The knife at his side was in his hand before he had time to realize he had removed it from the place at his side. He pried open a few of the nails and popped the lid, still frantic, and still with his heart racing, breathing erratic and unstable.
Dirt fell inwards as the top part was removed, but Daryl had no care in the world about that. Beth Greene was staring back at him, eyes open and blue as ever. He looked down in awe, in complete shock that nearly knocked him off balance.
"Daryl."
It was low and in a whisper, but there was a slight smile that had formed on her lips, eyes lazily drifting closed before opening back up again to meet his.
He didn't think, he just acted.
Daryl grabbed her, gently of course, but he did use some force to lean over and pull her up, picking her up into his arms bridal style until she was out of the coffin and safe. Safe with him, as it was meant to be. "Daryl," she said again, this time a bit louder and with more life to her voice. "Ouch."
He stopped walking, having not even realized he was marching through the woods back to base camp, where he would show Maggie she had no reason to be suicidal anymore, and show the rest that Beth had made it. He was right all along. She saved herself, she survived. Beth Greene was a warrior, just liked the rest of them.
"What is it?"
Dumb question. She was shot in the head. What else was going to be hurting?
Beth moved her hand up in the direction of the back of her head, but Daryl immediately said, "No. Don't."
Beth obeyed and did not attempt to touch where a bullet had flew out of her skull. Instead, she rested her head against him as he carried her, sighing.
Daryl felt her heart beating and it almost made him stop walking. Her heart…beating. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. It was low and a bit slower than normal, but the vibration was there against his own body. He was damn sure to keep waiting for the next beat.
But something does bother him. He could not believe his utter stupidity for how he had not realized before that rigor mortis had never set in, the sheer sign of death. They had buried her when she was still alive. Daryl doubted he would ever forgive himself for that huge mistake. All those long and drawn out hours he had been thinking she was dead were unbearable.
He had punched the ground of the woods repeatedly until his knuckles bled and they burned with pain from the blows against the bark.
He had cried so much that his eyes were puffy and red and sore.
He had felt like his soul was gone from his body, his heart torn into pieces and run over.
He had lost hope, and faith, and everything.
And yet that whole time his world was ending around him, Beth was alive, holding onto life. She was a fighter. She was strong.
A little spark of hope and faith had been restored at the realization that her heart was still beating.
—
They quickly moved Beth into an abandoned house that they found and set up hospital supplies from Grady Memorial because Glenn, Rick, and Michonne had gone back to get survival supplies for Beth, which the doctor handed over without hesitation, as he should have. Beth would be safe there until it was time to move, until it was time for her to rejoin the world.
Maggie and Daryl were practically glued at the hip after that, waiting for Beth to open her eyes again after she was in and out of consciousness. Several times Maggie broke down in the room and Daryl silently comforted her, something he was new to doing. And when Maggie was out of the room momentarily, that was when Daryl allowed himself to break down also.
He was in Beth's presence ninety-nine percent of the time, only leaving when he had to piss. He waited for her, and she finally woke up again from the nightmare. He was the first person that she saw when the blue orbs popped back open and made Daryl reflexively smiled down at her on the bed she was tucked into to safely, her hair clean from any blood.
He knew a bullet to the skull probably did a shitload of damage. Maybe her memory would be screwed with, but that was all okay. As long as she was here and alive, he didn't care the condition she came in, even if she forgot about their time together, the prison, the woods, the funeral home.
Her eyes closed again and she drifted back into unconsciousness after that but he knew he felt the light squeeze of her fingers around his hand.
Again, he reminded himself that her heart was beating and she had blood running through her veins. Beth would pull through. She had to, there was no other option on the table.
—
Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
Daryl could practically hear the stopped clock on the wall ticking away, despite the fact that it was frozen on eleven thirty-six. That clock was mocking him, letting him know that time was running low and Beth had not woken back up yet in about a day or so.
Eventually she did though and he cursed himself for being worried she would not. Hours later Beth's eyes opened and she squeezed Daryl's hand to indicate she was awake. "Hi," she slurred slightly, smiling. "Good to see you again."
She looked pale, very pale. But she was still beautiful so it took him a few seconds to think straight. Daryl got to his feet after having been on his knees by the side of the bed, hand still placed around Beth's. "How do you feel? Are you okay? Do you need anythin'?"
He didn't mean to bombard her with so many questions, it had all slipped out at once. All he wanted was to make sure that she was as comfortable as possible now that she was conscious again. "Say whatever you need, I'll get it," he affirmed, ready for her to say something.
Beth inhaled deeply and blinked a few times. "Where's Maggie?"
"Other room. I can get her," he told her, ready to leave and go grab Maggie, though the thought of leaving Beth only for a second made Daryl uneasy.
"No," Beth refused, the grip on his hand tightening. "Not yet. I just want you here."
Daryl stood there and waited for more words to come to mind. There was so much that he wanted to say to her, so much that he had listed off in his head when he had believed she was dead and gone. But know that she was alive and in front of him, Daryl had no words.
"I told you that you would miss me when I was gone, Daryl Dixon," Beth spoke, words perfectly clear, a smirk playing out on her face. "I bet you didn't believe me when I said them."
The shack. The moonshine. The stories about his childhood. The fire. He remembered all that had happened that night. He remembered how he had changed that night, all because of Beth. She had made him want to live that night, and he meant really live, not the half-ass make it another day kind of thing. Beth had made Daryl want to do right by her, make her safe and comfortable, and make her happy.
"Beth," he started to say, but the words hitch in his throat and he couldn't get the rest out. Daryl opened his mouth again to say the three important words she needed to hear, but he got lost in staring at her.
Beth gave him another warm and welcoming smile, squeezing his hand tighter. She moved to the right and pulled on him weakly. "Come here. Keep me company. I'm kinda chilly."
He would not dream of refusing the offer. Daryl carefully got into bed with her and made sure not to disturb her position too much, pulling the covers over her so she was warmer.
Beth, however, was not shy and got closer, gazing at him. "Much better."
"Beth, I—"
"Shhh," Beth urged, snuggling against his chest. It was the best feeling in the world. "I know. And I feel the same way."
She knew. She had probably known all along actually. There was this unspoken understanding between the two of them. They knew what the other was thinking even if no verbal language was spoken.
Amazing. That was what Beth was.
He realized then that her survival was a gift. A gift to him from something that was above, maybe a higher power. He didn't know how to explain it very well, but whatever had spared Beth's life...well, Daryl felt eternally grateful for whoever or whatever gave her back to him. He would forever treasure her in every way possible.
A/N: Check back for more soon!