A/N: Well, I wasn't gone for long. Here's another Bethyl AU. Uploading first two chapters tonight. Would love to hear your thoughts! Will give more insight in a future and/or updated/edited author's note when it isn't 1:30 AM...god, my fanfic addiction is unhealthy.
xx
chapter 1: transparent dangling carrots
"He gonna make it?"
A deep, rough voice echoed off of the walls in the hospital room that she'd been pretty certain was empty, apart from her and the patient. Should have been. She jumped a little in surprise before whipping around to face the source of the voice. The source of the question.
The room was mostly dark. It was nighttime. A small sliver of light from the hallway shone in through the crack between the door and its frame, creating a silhouetted outline of the man standing just inside it.
"Are you family?" She asked, squinting into the relative darkness. It was quiet except for the rhythmic sound of the ventilator that was keeping the other man in the room alive and the insistent beeps of the monitors ensuring his very livelihood.
She backed up a half-step as the man stepped forward and into the room.
His hair was shaggy and dark and the strands were uneven - she could see the shadows of them jutting out from his scalp. He seemed somehow boyish, almost, in this light.
She reached behind her and felt for the call button that rested on the bed. It was also a television remote control, a thermostat, and a control for the lights in the room. Silently, she pressed one of the buttons. And the room was drenched in light.
He squinted at her before shifting his eyes to the other man – the one in the bed, the one who was barely alive.
"Jesus, Merle." He muttered the words as he stepped closer to the bed. She detected some anger in his voice, but pain prevailed.
"Are you family?" She repeated the question, stepping closer to the patient on the opposite side of the bed.
The man lifted his eyes to her face. They were blue, like hers. A different blue. Colder, maybe.
"Brother. Only family he's got."
"You must be Daryl, then."
He furrowed his brows. "How the hell y'know my name?"
"I'm the neurologist caring for your brother, Mr. Dixon. He listed you on his advanced directive. Nurses said they tried callin' you."
She watched the man – Daryl – reach for his brother's hand, which was resting, limp and pale, on top of the duvet.
"I'm Dr. Beth Greene." She softened her voice a bit as she addressed him. "Your brother is in critical condition, though his vital signs are all very stable."
"If he's stable, then why'd'ya say critical?" While there was no trace of malice or suspicion in his tone, the volume of his voice had risen slightly when he asked the question. His eyes darted around the room for a moment and landed on the various monitors surrounding the head of the bed.
"Merle had a massive stroke, Mr. Dixon. He's unable to regulate his own breathing right now, so he needs this ventilator to help him breathe. He was barely conscious when the paramedics brought him into the emergency department. One entire side of his body was nearly completely flaccid, and - "
"Don't know what the hell you're sayin', Doc. Don't know what none o' that means. He gonna make it? Or not?" Daryl's eyes had become somehow colder. More serious. More fearful. Like his voice.
"Too early to say, I'm afraid. We administered some medication to break up the clot. He's heavily sedated right now. Tomorrow we'll try cuttin' back on that, see how he does. We'll be able to determine a more accurate prognosis then."
Daryl nodded and ran a hand through his hair, exhaling noisily.
"Thanks," he said quietly. "For savin' him. He's a – he's a dick. He ever wakes up, you'll see."
Beth smiled at Daryl's unexpected gratitude.
"I'll happily welcome him back, dick or not," she said. She walked around the end of the bed to the other side, planting herself a few feet away from Daryl.
"Look pretty young to be a doctor." He turned towards her slightly.
"Uh – thanks?" She blinked.
"Ain't been to this place in a long time. Still creepy." He'd turned fully towards her then and his head was tipped upward as he looked around the room.
"Don't say that too loud; they just updated and renovated the entire interior of this hospital. I've seen creepier." Her lips curled into a faint smile as she walked across the room to the sink to wash her hands.
"Been here long? 'S a good hospital, right?"
She turned to face him as she dried her hands with the rough paper towel – and it was so rough. Like sandpaper. Like the bark of a tree. Unforgiving. It'd be nice if they'd updated the brand they stocked when they'd updated everything else.
"Couple months," she answered, lathering her hands with lotion. "I'm from the northern part of the state. Just moved to Atlanta a while back."
He nodded. "My ma died here. Ain't a big fan."
"Well, your brother is in no condition to be transferred elsewhere - "
"Didn't say nothin' 'bout transferrin' him, Doc. Just makin' – I'unno. Conversation, I guess. So you'll be here tomorrow, then? Check on him an' shit?"
She paused at the doorway and cast a glance over her shoulder at the man - or boy, she still wasn't entirely sure - standing at the side of the hospital bed. His hands were rooted in the pockets of his dirty jeans and his shoulders, which were muscular and all man, were rolled and hunched forward. She couldn't help but feel some kind of defeat radiating from him, and for some reason she wanted to extinguish it. Badly.
"Yeah," she whispered. "See you tomorrow, Daryl. Try and get some rest."
Their eyes locked for a moment – blue on blue, wonder and support – before he nodded slightly and turned around.
She walked out into the bright hallway, closing the door softly behind her. Wrapping her grey lab coat more tightly around her body, she exhaled a breath she hadn't been aware she'd been holding.
