I'm Only Human
A/N: Oh my god, you guys. Thanks for such an overwhelmingly amazing response to my, what will now be, first chapter of this fic. I have literally no outline for this, so I'm not really sure where it's going to go (beyond a bunch of Bethyl feels), so I guess…hang on for the ride? Thanks to everyone who is reading, following, favoriting, reviewing, etc. Reviews always make me feel really warm and gooey inside so please leave them!
Hope you all enjoy. :)
He woke, covered in sweat, his body trembling from fever. At some point while he'd been sleeping, someone had stuck a needle in his arm, through which, by the looks of the bag on the IV pole, he was being fed saline and god knew what else. Daryl was disoriented for a minute, bringing himself to full consciousness, before he remembered all that had happened.
It was like a weight fell on his chest, crushing him, making him feel guilty and devastated and angry all at once. Losing Abraham was a crushing blow. The resolute man had been the strength of their group and watching and hearing him die the way he did was just…sickening. Daryl's stomach clenched uncomfortably.
He'd just been so angry, so done with all this Negan bullshit, there was nothing else to lose - might as well go out swinging, or whatever. Once again, his anger had gotten the best of him and though the few jabs he'd gotten in on Negan felt great, what happened next was unfathomable. It had been his fault Glenn had died. Negan had pretty much said that straight out. And now, he would probably dangle it in Daryl's face for however long he was here. Or however long he decided to keep him alive.
Daryl felt lost. It had been a long time since he'd felt that way. Like a big, clumsy, lost puppy, unsure of what his next move should be, uncomfortable with the idea of new people. Surely, he'd be used for bait. And he knew, although he hated the idea of it with every ounce of his being, that at some point, Rick and the others would come for him.
He wished they wouldn't. He wasn't worth the trouble.
His mind replayed the last few moments of foggy memory he had, where, under his severe fever, he was certain he'd seen, and felt, and been kissed by Beth Greene. Which was, of course, impossible, because Beth Greene was dead.
As if on cue, the doctor fumbled at Daryl's closed door, which was made from silver metal with a long glass window just above the door knob. He stuck his head inside. "Daryl, okay if I come in?" he asked kindly.
Daryl grunted his permission.
He nodded, coming towards Daryl with his hands in his lab coat pockets. "How are you feeling?" he asked casually, as if he really gave a shit and Daryl hadn't just been kidnapped only hours earlier by a maniacal overlord that stormed around with a barbed wire bat which Daryl was pretty sure he thought of as an actual person.
Daryl shrugged.
The doctor pulled a thermometer out from his pocket, which he promptly shoved into Daryl's mouth. Daryl glared at him, until the device beeped and the doctor ripped it out, studying it with squinted eyes.
"Those antibiotics are doin' you good," he commented, "Fever's breakin'."
"Great," Daryl managed to mumble.
"You hungry?" the doctor asked, stepping back from the bed. "Reckon you must be."
Hating himself, Daryl nodded.
"Good," the doctor said. "Beth'll bring you somethin' by in a little while…" Whatever the doctor had said next, floated in one ear and directly out the other, because Daryl clung to the last thing he'd said.
Beth?
"I'll be back to check on you in a few hours," the doctor finished, exiting through the door and pulling it closed behind him. Daryl heard a distinct click and his heart skipped a beat when he realized the doctor was locking him inside. He was pretty immobile, there was no way in hell he could make it out of here without someone noticing, but it was clear Negan's people were taking every precaution to keep Daryl right where he was. If one thing was for sure, it would be extremely difficult to escape.
Nevertheless, Daryl was wide awake now, sitting straight up in the bed, staring at the door, his heart racing a mile a minute. Nervously waiting. Rationally, he knew this was crazy. Beth had died. He was waiting for a ghost. But it was like a small spark had ignited inside his belly and it took him a minute or two before he realized what that feeling was.
Hope.
He'd closed his eyes again, for just a moment. God knows, his body needed it, but the click of the door made his eyelids snap open again, his vision tunneling as the knob turned.
She entered, wearing a ratty pair of hospital scrubs, carrying a tray in both hands. Her hair was no longer pulled back, it lay, stringy, down the sides of her face. She looked up at him, their eyes really meeting this time, and instantly, he knew he hadn't been dreaming the night before. It was her. It was Beth.
Beth turned towards him, her arms hanging with the weight of the tray and the food on top, stopped in her tracks and biting her lip like she was trying to hold back a sob. The sight of her made his heart go wild, and he found himself trying to find the right thing to say. Instead, he sucked in a breath, the sharpness of it stinging his throat, emotions flying at him from every direction, which he had no idea what to do with.
Daryl always thought Beth was beautiful, not just how she looked, but the presence she brought with her. As he took her in, in the few seconds she'd been in the room with him already, he saw that brightness she'd carried with her all the way from the farm, through the prison, to the country club, through the moonshine cabin, past the funeral home all the way to Grady, was gone. Something had happened to her.
Beth came towards his bed swiftly, dumping the tray at the end of his bed, then coming to meet him by his shoulder. She was studying him, searching his face for answers. He felt her small hands on his arms, fingernails on his skin - touching him, just to be sure it was Daryl.
"I can't believe you're here," she whispered.
She moved to brush her hair away from her face and Daryl unintentionally gasped as she did so. The bullet from Grady hadn't left her unscathed. She was missing an ear on the left side, where she'd been shot. The skin there had been crudely sewn together, leaving a massive scar from where her ear should have been, all the way up into her hairline.
Worse yet, she was freshly bruised up, green, yellow and purple scattered from her brow bone all the way down to her chin. He felt his anger flare again, catching fire in his ribs.
"Beth," he said, his eyes widening, reaching up to touch her face.
"Don't," she said sternly, pulling away from him, her eyes wide and fearful. They darted from Daryl, to her shoes, to the door behind them, then back to Daryl.
He pulled his hand back towards himself. Something had her spooked. "Beth," he said her name again, softer this time, so she would at least keep her eyes on him for Christ's sake. She'd seemingly risen from the dead. He just wanted a few minutes with her.
"Daryl, they can't know we know each other," she whispered. Beth glanced towards the door again, nervously. "He can't know."
"Who?" Daryl asked, nearly knocking his tray of food over with his feet from the excitement of new information. "Negan?"
She nodded, looking back at her feet.
"Did he do that to you?" Daryl asked, motioning to her face.
"Doesn't matter," Beth said quietly. "It's not important. We don't have time," she stressed. "Just listen…"
"It does matter," Daryl interrupted. "Please, Beth. I need to know. Are you safe?"
Her doe eyes bore through him as she studied him, chewing her lip, searching for the right words. "I'm fine," she said quietly. "Doctor says you'll be here for at least another day, and then they'll move you to a cell. Just stay on Negan's good side. From what I heard, he has a special interest in you." She leaned into him then, her breath on his ear, sending shivers down his arms, "You may be our ticket out of here."
He wanted to ask her what she meant by a cell, what she meant by their ticket out - if she even knew a way out and what she meant by staying on Negan's "good side," but she'd retreated from his bedside and was out the door in an instant, locking the door behind her.
Beth had been right, Daryl got another night with the doctor before anything exciting happened. He'd hoped he would get another glimpse at her, and by mid-afternoon of the next day, feared the worst. Maybe someone had somehow figured out that Beth knew Daryl, but the doctor had stormed in before he could worry all that much.
"Time to go," the doctor said, closing the door behind him. In his arms he carried a pile of new clothes, which he laid at the end of the bed. Turning towards Daryl, he pulled the IV out from his arm and began to bandage up his stitches that Beth had placed.
"Time to go where?" Daryl asked quietly, looking at the doctor, hoping his face would reveal something. But his mouth was a straight line, his eyes focused on his task at hand.
"My job is to heal," he said simply. "All I know is that they're taking you away from here."
Daryl thought for a moment of asking him about Beth, but decided against it. The worst move now would be to get her in trouble, to get her hurt. They clearly had no qualms about hitting women which made Daryl furious. He needed to figure out a way to talk to her again.
The doctor helped Daryl pull on a new t-shirt before he tentatively climbed out of bed. He'd only gotten up to take a quick piss a few times over the last few days, so he knew his legs worked, but he didn't know how long they'd cooperate. Regardless, he was able to shove himself into a new pair of pants, pulling on new socks, and then, his old pair of boots.
"Word to the wise," the doctor said in a whisper as he guided Daryl towards the door. "Don't put up a struggle."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Daryl asked, but at that moment, the door was opened and Dwight was on Daryl immediately, pulling his arms behind his back and clasping cool metal handcuffs around his wrists.
Once he seemed satisfied with the tightness of them, he grasped Daryl's forearm and pulled him along with him. "Let's go," he grumbled.
"Where we goin'?" Daryl managed to ask.
"Negan wants to see you."
Well, Daryl had been expecting that of course, but not this soon. He had no idea what the fuck Negan wanted with him anyway. The man was off his rocker. Maybe he wanted to torture him? Ask him more about Rick and Alexandria? Maybe he just wanted to fuck with him, tearing him apart limb by limb. Who knew. He just wished he'd gotten more time with Beth the other day.
Dwight led Daryl down through a long hallway that led to an open ledge. Beyond the ledge was a large open area about three stories down. The place looked like an abandoned mill or factory that they must have moved the equipment out of, putting a variety of tables and chairs into the center space to create a communal gathering place.
There were a good amount of people out there, sitting and eating, and Daryl was surprised to see a wide variety of men, women and children. But something else caught his eye immediately. Her. Beth sat at one of the tables with another woman, giving small smiles as her table-mate spoke to her. But Daryl could tell, just from the moments of watching her, that they were fake. He had seen Beth smile. Really smile - grins that spread across her face, showing her teeth, that warmed you from the inside.
She was gone from his line of vision in an instant as Dwight pushed his head forward and down, guiding him along the raised railed pathway, then down another side hallway, up a few flights of stairs.
They were facing a door now, made from a solid sheet of steel. Dwight knocked three times, and then they waited.
Heavy footsteps echoed behind the door, and then finally, it swung open, revealing the man who had kidnapped him.
Negan.
"Daryl!" Negan exclaimed, snaking his arm around his neck to pull him through the doorway. "How the fuck are you?" he asked, like they'd been friends for years and he hadn't killed two people that Daryl considered family.
Daryl grunted, trying to maintain his balance as Negan let his neck go.
Negan closed the door behind them, leaving Dwight on the outside, and Daryl took in their surroundings. The room was large, smelling of sweat and sex. It was furnished luxuriously - all sorts of fancy couches and oriental rugs, one of those stand-alone gas fireplaces, a grandfather clock, and multiple vanities. There were various women laid about, like props - some of them sleeping, reading, or primping themselves.
He tried not to look at them, but couldn't help but notice they were all dressed in skimpy lingerie, tits perky, pushed up to their chins, asses handing out of too-small underwear. Negan was watching him, he could feel his eyes on him, and when he looked back at his captor, Negan let out a low laugh.
"There are my wives," Negan explained. Daryl met his eyes. "Do take a look," he urged him. "I'm sure it's been a long ass time since you've had any pussy. I know it's the fucking apocalypse man, but you should really think about cutting your hair and taking a shower once in a while."
Daryl continued to glare.
"Step into my office," Negan motioned, towards another door at the far end of the room. He opened it, pushing the double doors open, into what was unmistakably, an office. A handsome wooden desk sat in the middle, the walls covered top to bottom with bookshelves. To the right was another set of doors, Daryl imagined probably led into a bedroom of sorts.
Negan stepped behind Daryl, and he felt his hands on his cuffs, but no release. "Sorry about these," he said casually, not sounding sorry at all. "But, you understand, right?"
He came around the front of Daryl, then hoisted himself up onto the desk. He sat, eye level with Daryl and looked over his face, his shoulders, the rest of his body. Daryl shifted uncomfortably.
"Tell me, Daryl," Negan spoke slowly, "Why the fuck weren't you leading that merry band of misfits we left behind in the woods? Why the fuck did you have Rick in charge, hm? Guy's got no balls. None. At. All." He studied Daryl again. "You seem to be the only one in that group with any sort of ballsack. 'Cept maybe Big Red," he chuckled. "But he's not much of a problem anymore."
These were rhetorical questions, Daryl knew, so he stayed still on the spot, glaring at Negan, hating him from the depths of his soul.
"I bet, now that I have their ballsiest guy, and Rick is spending all his precious time and energy scraping up that shit we left all over the ground there, all of ya'll in - Alexandria? Is that what you call it?"
Daryl nodded.
"All of those people back in Alexandria, won't know what the fuck hit them." He laughed then, a big hearty laugh, like someone had just told a really funny joke. Except none of this was funny. It was all, fucking, sick.
Negan's eyebrows furrowed as he took Daryl in again. "You get it though, don't you? That you work for me now? You're my worker bee, and you do as I say." He grinned at him. Daryl wished he could punch every single tooth of his out of his mouth. "We're going to warm you up by bringing you down to the cells for a few days - teach you a fucking lesson. Make sure you're not as dumb as I think you could be. And then you'll try your hand at something fucking useful around here. Got it?"
It went against everything Daryl believed in, but Beth's words kept echoing through Daryl's head. Stay on Negan's good side. You may be our ticket out of here. So he nodded. And Negan seemed satisfied with that.
The cell was larger than Daryl expected, though it was completely dark which fucked with his senses quite a bit. However, Dwight had taken off his handcuffs before he pushed him in there, and there was an old mattress on the floor, which Daryl felt content to curl up on for a bit and have a go at some sleep.
He fell into a dream, almost immediately, sleep capturing his tired body. In his dream, Beth had been up in that room, with all of Negan's wives, dressed in nothing but a pink robe, her body bare underneath, and she winked at Daryl before revealing that she too, was one of Negan's wives.
"He just loves what I've done with my hair," she said with a smile, then turned, her blonde hair turning crimson as blood left that hole in her head, pouring through the tendrils of her hair, down her face, her ear, gone, and she crumbled to the floor, and he found himself crying out for her, in the emptiness of his cell.
After that, he stopped welcoming sleep, though he knew he probably needed it.
Then finally, there was a crack in the door, a sliver of white light shining in, and he saw a face. An eye. Blue, big and round. It was her. It had to be her.
"Beth?" he called out in a whisper.
"I'm here," she whispered back. The door came back even further, revealing her in the light.
He let his lips curl into a smile at the sight of her - although she looked tired and still bruised up, she was still Beth. And he cared very deeply about her.
That's why, when Dwight stepped into the light behind her, Daryl let out a low growl and got to his feet to attack.
A/N: More to come. Just a small disclaimer that I'm about to jump into NaNoWriMo, so there will probably not be super frequent updates on this story. HOWEVER, if S7 continues to destroy me and put Daryl in shitty situations then I'll probably continue to update just to cope.
Thanks for reading! Please review. :)
ETA: So sorry, I read through this and noticed about a million typos. They should all be fixed now, but totally call me out if you see any more.