Author's note- These are a collection of Bethyl drabbles I wrote for Tumblr prompts. None of them tie into one another so feel free to read them in whatever order you like.
The door to the house groaned in protest as Daryl eased it open with one hand, a skinned rabbit dangling from his other one. The sound of his boots against the wood floor was the first noise that had filled the house besides Beth's quiet sobs in days.
The house was eerily silent as Daryl padded through it, he could hear a drop of blood as it dripped off of the rabbit and onto the floor. He scanned each room in search of her, it was harder to find her without the sound of her tears to guide him. She was not laying curled on her side on the couch as she had spent the majority of the last few days, nor was she sobbing as she threw up what little he could get her to force down over the trashcan in the out of order bathroom. Daryl weaved his way through every room his heart beginning to beat faster with worry at each vacant area.
He didn't think he would be able to go on if she was gone too.
As he walked past the kitchen a flash of color out of the large bay window caught his eye and he stopped in his tracks. Peering through the dirty glass his eyes fell upon a light blue t-shirt clothing shaking shoulders. Slowly he placed the rabbit carcass on the table and headed to the back door where he paused and looked out for a moment to collect himself.
Beth stood with her bare arms crossed against her chest, shivering from a combination of cold and the force of her crying as she stood in front of a small wooden cross. Daryl felt his heart sputter as his eyes fell on the cross and he had to turn away from the sight so that he could breathe again.
When they had first learned that Beth was pregnant they had both known the risks that they had just set upon themselves. Daryl had been sure that Beth would end up like Lori and not make it through the childbirth, that he would be left alone with his grief and their child. He had spent countless nights imagining the heart crushing pain that her death would bring him, trying to decide how he would be able to look at their child without blaming it for killing the love of his life.
But never once, in any of those sleepless nights, did he imagine this.
After hours of screaming herself hoarse and bleeding more than Daryl thought humans could without a fatal wound Beth had given birth to a boy with a crop of tangled dark hair. The moment that they laid their eyes on him Beth and Daryl had felt their love and their hearts grow to include him.
And then they felt their hearts stutter in fear for how small he was.
How weak his heartbeat was.
How few breaths he drew.
They held their child in shaking hands as he drew his last breath not even minutes after he had taken his first, and then, as one, their hearts shattered
Four days had past since Daryl had wrapped their son in a blanket and buried him in a wooden trunk in the backyard of the house he was born in. Four days had past since they had placed the wooden cross in the troubled dirt and stared in silence at the small grave of their child. Four days since either had said a word, for really what was there left to say?
The back door opened silently as Daryl slipped outside into the brisk air and walked up beside Beth. She did not look at him as he stopped next to her and joined her silent vigilant over the grave of their son. Their arms were pressed against each other and he could feel her trembling form shaking roughly. Slowly he removed his jacket and turned to drape it over her shoulders. For a moment she did not move but then her shaking hands went up to grip the jacket to her chest tightly.
Daryl felt he should say something, knew he should say something, to ease her broken heart. But he did not know what he could possibly say that would cure her when he could not even cure himself.
"Do you think he's happy?" her voice was weak, broken, a mere shadow of what it was not even a week ago when they toyed around with the feel of baby names on their tongues.
Daryl shrugged, he didn't know what happened to people when they died. He didn't believe in God, never had before the turn and sure as shit didn't after. Even if there was some divine higher power he wasn't to sure what he felt about one who was cruel enough to put their people through this hell, this pain. That wasn't the kind of answer that Beth wanted, nor was that the kind of answer Beth needed. He tried to think of what her sister would say if she were here but he kept coming up blank. Merle was the only sibling he had ever had and he wasn't exactly the best example of showing sibling affection. The thought of Maggie however drew his mind to Herschel and the one thing he could think of to say that would make Beth's heart feel a bit less broken.
"Maybe he's with your father." Daryl grunted with a shrug.
Beth's gaze moved slowly from the cross to peer over at him with bright tear filled eyes, Daryl met her gaze as best as he could, he could feel a burn behind his own eyelids as he stared down at her and found the words that had been evading both of them for days.
"Lori will look after him." he whispered, his voice beginning to fail him as some of his pain leaked out on her name. "Or Andrea. Your mom." he shrugged and fought to gain control over himself as she stared up at him with her large and hurt eyes.
"Maybe he's with your brother or." Daryl paused and swallowed against the lump forming in his throat. "Or mine."
Daryl shook his head at himself before reaching forward and pulling Beth into his hold, wrapping his arms tight around her. She clung to him tightly and he could feel the warm wetness of her tears staining his shirt as he rested his chin on the top of her head, the curls of her tangled hair tickling his face.
"They'll look after him Beth." he whispered comfortingly, surprised to find that he actually believed himself as the words left his mouth. "They'll look after Herschel until we can do it ourselves."