Chapter 22: Red Sky at Morning, Part VI
Normally, Aaron would appreciate a certain urban architecture beauty in the way the sunset's light played on the metal struts in the Sanctuary's common area. He supposed he should be in a better mood – his greatest injury was a broken ankle that had been carefully examined and wrapped. Dr. Carson was fairly confident that he could be off the crutches in a few weeks; Aaron privately planned to switch to a cane as soon as possible to free up at least one hand for work. Of those who'd survived the blast, five of the elderly were fairly stable. One was still unconscious and therefore a cause for concern. But not as badly off as Jeffrey, the male nurse who had been Aaron's primary boss since arriving at the Savior's compound. The combination of burns and battered limbs were too much for his body to handle, and he'd slipped so deeply unconscious throughout the afternoon that most of the medical staff were whispering among themselves that he might not last more than a few days.
But as tragic as that was, the fact remained that the ones who had died had no surviving family – even Jeffrey wasn't attached beyond basic friendships. So while everyone at the Sanctuary was shocked and upset by the explosion, no one was mourning the death of a loved one. Except the McManus brothers, who were channeling their grief into a hyper-focused awareness and pent-up rage. And Isaac. The boy was so traumatized and in shock, both from his own injuries and from losing his mother, that'd he'd alternately napped or sat unresponsive, wide eyes staring at something only he could see. Aaron had stayed close to him throughout the afternoon but, even though the boy had initially interacted with him in the shower room, he'd grown silent as the hours wore on.
Negan had come into the makeshift medical ward three times that afternoon. The first visit, he'd walked directly up to Aaron's cot and tersely demanded a play-by-play of the events leading up to the bombing. Aaron had hesitated, his gaze flickering to the child sharing the narrow bed-space. The boy had already seen his mother's last moments and shouldn't have to relive them through Aaron's description. Instead of taking Aaron to the side for privacy, Negan had signaled for Murphy to pick Isaac up and carry him outdoors. After relaying what he'd seen up to the moment when he lost consciousness, Negan abruptly cut Aaron off and walked out of the Crypt, tossing a curt "Nope" over his shoulder before Aaron could even get past the "Can I" part of his question.
The second time, Negan had gone to Dr. Carson and asked for an update on each patient before barking out Beth's name and signaling for her to follow him. They went too far away for anyone to get the full gist of their conversation, but everyone in the room went near-silent at Negan's furious shouts and those (like Aaron) with even a limited view through the open door watched spell-bound as Negan angrily waved a manila folder in Beth's face while she stood with her arms crossed, slowing curling in on herself as he cut repeatedly cut off whatever words she tried to offer. Beth had returned several minutes later with a stormy and slightly fearful expression and quickly busied herself with work, speaking to no one for the rest of the afternoon.
Now, he couldn't find her. Aaron hadn't seen her, in fact, since they'd been given the all-clear to move back into the Sanctuary's main building. Parts of the building were off-limits until reconstruction was completed: the medical wing was closed except for a supply closet and one small exam room that jutted out from the main factory, and the apartments directly above the area where the bombing occurred were restricted as well. The people who lived in those spaces were temporarily reassigned to the fifth floor, filling in three sides of the building, even the interior apartments.
They were the least desirable spaces, Aaron had learned, because they weren't built to be anything other than offices. When the factory had been designed, its architects had envisioned it to be the center of a new kind of suburban community, one where home and work spaces were married together, with building ground floor spaces reserved for businesses and the upper floors as residential. The factory that not only acted as the planned community's geothermal power source but also as commercial office space was no different, with the 3rd-6th floors hosting apartments all along the exterior walls, where windows and natural lighting made the otherwise small one-and two-bedroom floor plans more desirable. But the core of the factory was the massive chimney vent for the furnace that required thick concrete walls to shield the rest of the structure from the intense heat, which meant rooms that bordered it couldn't have any sources of natural lighting. And while the Sanctuary's electrical power was all but guaranteed to last lifetimes, the air conditioning had long run dry of the necessary coolant, which meant that any room without windows got intensely uncomfortable without the possibility of a breeze.
But mid-April, the temperature was still pleasant enough that those rooms weren't unbearable and, in any event, it was only until construction was completed on the flooring, or at least far enough along that the engineering crew felt it was safe. The medical ward had been moved into a couple of interior rooms on the second floor and, having spent the last hour there, Aaron could attest that it was reasonably comfortable, at least as a temporary set-up.
All in all, the whole day could have turned out a lot worse, and it was reflected in the Saviors' general mood. Negan had called an impromptu meeting for that night, and while some around the factory floor commented on how hard it had been to leave their kids upstairs with nerves still so frazzled, Aaron was probably the most uneasy-feeling person there. No Beth, no Daryl, and the furnace was lit with the iron inside already glowing red in anticipation.
Aaron wasn't stupid. He might not fully understand everything going on, but he'd had enough clues to put together a general idea of the trouble brewing at Negan's stronghold. And he'd seen the distress in Beth's demeanor that afternoon (completely understandable in Aaron's mind – he knew first-hand from that fateful night on the road how it felt to be the focus of Negan's ire). No, he wasn't stupid at all. Someone was going to pay for today's attack. And Aaron was sincerely concerned that it might be Beth.
And that it would be tonight.
Because the third time Negan had come in, he'd gone to Dr. Carson, whispered in his ear, and they'd walked over to Aaron but focused their collective attention on the unresponsive boy next to him. Negan had grinned softly, "Hey, little man, the Doc here's going to give you something to help you get a good night's sleep."
And before either Aaron or Isaac could open their mouths to protest, Dr. Carson had swiped an alcohol-soaked cotton ball on an exposed patch of skin above the boy's cumbersome cast and the thin-gauge syringe quickly delivered its contents.
As the child's eyes had fluttered closed, Negan straightened up, "You're sure he'll be out 'til morning?"
"Definitely, that much will have him out twelve hours at least."
"But it's not too strong for him?" Aaron had interjected, feeling a hot streak of protectiveness for the newly-orphaned boy and not too thrilled at the casual approach the two men were taking to drugging him.
Carson's expression had been benign, but his tone slightly demeaning to Aaron's ears, "It's fine, perfectly mild enough for his size." He'd turned his body back to Negan as if to dismiss Aaron from the conversation happening just inches from his bed, "Do you want to keep him here overnight?"
"Nah, I'm taking him with me, have the wives keep an eye on him for tonight, or at least during the meeting. Folks are bound to say some nasty shit about his mom, least we can keep him sheltered from the worst of it for a little while."
"So you think it was just her?" Dr. Carson had inquired.
"We'll know for sure when Simon brings her husband back. I'll be very interested in what he hast to say about all this," Negan's dark tone had clashed with his winning smile, leaving both Aaron and Dr. Carson mildly disturbed.
But Simon wasn't back, and the time was ticking down to when Negan had called everyone to a mandatory meeting. No Simon. No Daryl, whose absence more people were noticing – and commenting on – by the minute. And no Beth. Just a bare metal table and a single chair set up, seemingly for Negan to address the crowd from. And the heat from the furnace making the already warm, humid air uncomfortably heavy.
Because he'd been actively looking for her, Aaron noticed Beth slip in quietly while everyone else's attention was drawn by Negan's entrance from above. Her expression was closed, whatever she was thinking or feeling held back by a clenched jaw and hooded eyes that subtly swept over the kneeling crowd until they landed on Aaron.
Daryl? She mouthed, holding eye contact.
Aaron shook his head with the smallest movement he could manage. Beth's nod of acknowledgement was equally slight, her gaze breaking away to track Negan's measured steps towards the front of the assembly. Just before he could reach the table and chair set up, Beth took her hand off her knee and, using her bent leg to hide her actions, put her hand out towards Aaron as if to signal stop or wait.
Cautiously, he nodded to show he'd seen, but he didn't quite know how to interpret what she wanted. Wait for what?
"Today has been one fucking hell of a day," Negan began, gesturing for the crowd to return to their seats. "We lose people. Hell, we all know that. Ain't so damn different from the world before. We lose people to accidents, to sickness, to old age. But what we do not expect, in our home, our Sanctuary from the world turned to shit, is to lose people to violence. And I cannot have that. WE cannot have it, not and still call ourselves Saviors. Those responsible have to be punished. Simple as that. Because the people we lost today – Sarah Abbott, Father Donovan, and, as of about ten minutes ago, Jeffrey Sorenson – they deserve justice."
Negan paused until the gasps and murmurs died down; the gossip mill had already circulated word of the two older patients' deaths, but the nurse's passing was fresh news. Inwardly, Aaron grieved for another reason. Yes, he would miss the friendly man, but more than that, his death left the hospital staff even more short-handed than they'd already been, making Aaron's chances of being set free to go home to his family anytime soon even dimmer than before.
"Four of our own are dead," Negan resumed pacing in the cleared space with Lucille on his shoulder, "The three I just mentioned, and we'll give them a proper send-off tomorrow, and the one who made the bomb in the first place, Ruby Lassiter. And we could leave it at that. Be easier, wouldn't it? She did the deed and died because of it, problem fucking solved."
He stopped in the center and swung Lucille slowly around to point at everyone in the crowd, "But we are the Saviors. We don't build this world and keep this world by doing things the easy way and letting shit sit around and stink up our own backyard. Our people who died today, our people who are injured, our people who put themselves on the front lines to haul them out of that wreck, our people who took care of and are still looking after the ones who got hurt, their family and friends – it trickles down to all of us. We all deserve the kind of justice that lets us know we have well and fucking truly dealt with today and everyone who made it possible. Because we are the Saviors. We do what has to be done, no matter how hard it might be."
Negan's words echoed around the giant space. But Aaron could only keep his eyes on Beth as she leaned against the wall off to the side. In every other meeting, she'd sat with the rest of the group, but now she seemed to be distancing herself on purpose.
When Negan spoke again, his voice was softer, almost conversational. Aaron wasn't fooled. He'd heard this tone before, on the road, the nonchalant description of their situation just before he'd bludgeoned Eugene. "Some of you might have heard about a little incident we had during lunch today. A situation that might very well be connected to what's brought us all together tonight. I'd hoped – "
The metal door at the top of the staircase hit the wall as it swung open, drawing everyone's attention to the raised platform. From his seat, Aaron couldn't see who or what was up there, but those who could were immediately whispering and nudging those around them. Multiple sets of heavy feet plodded steadily down the steel staircase until they were fully in Aaron's view. Simon led the heavily-armed cluster of Saviors to the front of the room, and in the middle of the pack was Daryl of all people, pulling a bound and hooded figure along with him. Aaron flashed the briefest of glances at Beth, and even she seemed surprised to see Daryl with Simon's crew.
But the noise of the Saviors' boots on the metal stairs or the muttered comments from the audience couldn't mask the tale-tell snarls from Aaron's ears. Simon yanked off the hood, revealing the captured man's face and confirming Aaron's suspicions.
"You brought me a fucking corpse," Negan moved into Simon's space, completely unfazed at how close it put him to the walker's snapping teeth, a simmering rage building in his voice, "I asked you to bring me Craig Lassiter, alive, and instead all I get is this dead fucker. I wanted to question him. Needed him to explain to me how his wife ended up with internal bruising, a beaten and now fucking catatonic son, and, oh yeah, a fucking bomb! What in the fucking fuck do you expect me to get out of this? And you," Negan turned his attention to Daryl and brushed Lucille under his chin and along his jawline, "This may be the most interesting thing you've ever done."
Aaron could only watch from his place on the bench as Negan and Daryl locked eyes for an intense moment until Daryl slowly sank to his knees, allowing one of the other Saviors to pull the walker from his grip and hold it off to the side. The rest of Simon's crew slowly edged away from where Daryl knelt, leaving him in a circle with Negan directly facing him.
"Tell me," Negan eased Lucille through Daryl's oily strands of hair, the barbs parting irregular paths through the stringy locks, "why I don't fucking finish what I started in that damned clearing?"
"It wasn't his fault."
Everyone, even Negan, was surprised by Simon coming to Daryl's defense. "He tracked Lassiter through the woods just like you told him to. He was catching up to him as they both came towards the old state road to Leesburg."
"And you saw this?" Negan questioned.
"No," Simon admitted. "I sent David that way."
"Davie, talk to me."
The man sidled in a little closer, "Like he said, we were driving north, looking for signs that Craig had come that way, when the two of them came busting out of the trees. There was a good bit of cleared space between the road and the woods, and they were both running for it, Daryl closing in. Craig must've realized he couldn't outrun him, 'cause he turned and went at Daryl with his knife. That's when we all got out, started running towards them. Daryl managed to get the knife away, but that's when Craig spotted us, and he pulled away and ran back for the woods. By then, a couple of rotters were coming out of the trees… He just ran right into them. Not that I think he meant to, just happened. We put the dead ones down but by then, the damage had been done."
Negan tipped his head, considering the situation, before turning his attention back to Daryl, "Did he say anything during your little tussle?"
Daryl shook his head slightly, "Just that he wasn't going back."
Negan narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to Daryl, "Earlier today, Craig Lassiter accused you of being the one who hurt his boy. What's to say you didn't make sure he ended up dead, either because it's true and you wanted to shut him up, or because it wasn't, and he just plain pissed you off by putting the idea out there?"
Aaron watched Daryl's back straighten as he responded, "Because him bein' dead doesn't help Beth."
Something about Daryl's answer seemed to satisfy Negan, because he relaxed his stance and took several steps back. "Daryl, you are absolutely goddamned right about that." He swung Lucille around to gesture to Dwight, "Help our friend here off to his usual spot. And keep a good grip on him. He may not like what's coming next."
As Dwight half-led, half-dragged a slightly resistant Daryl to the wall near the furnace, Aaron leaned back to mutter, "What's going on?"
"Don't know," Connor answered, his voice equally low. Aaron turned his gaze away from Negan to see that Murphy had finally joined their table.
"What'd I miss?"
"Not much. Yet. The boy tucked away?" Connor responded.
"Aye, Mikey's keeping an eye out. And Sherry's with him, she's got a good head on her shoulders. Looks like you've gotten all patched up, you alright there?" Murphy squeezed Aaron's shoulder good-naturedly. But Aaron could only nod as Negan's voice rose.
"Might as well take that fucker off to the fences," Negan dismissed the Savior wrangling the walker, "Bastard can at least be useful there." He turned back to the group, "Yes siree, you are fucking right. Because dead man walking there is being less than conversational, and I still need to know how the fuckity fuck a wife-beating, child-abusing son of a fucking bitch who drove his wife so crazy in the head that the only way out she saw was to blow herself to Hell," Negan paused to pick up the folder from the table behind him, "got into my Sanctuary. And all I've got to go on is a bunch of goddamned paperwork."
He held the file folder aloft in front of the group but kept his gaze trained on the concrete floor in front of him, something Aaron had never seen him do. Negan didn't look down, didn't lower his head for anyone. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
"Doc." Negan didn't change his stance, but his words were clearly for Beth, who was still leaning against the side wall. "According to that medical check you did for me this afternoon, we should have at the very fucking least sent that jackass on his merry way the second he showed up in our Sanctuary, am I right or am I fucking right?"
Aaron didn't have to turn around to know that everyone's eyes were on her by this point, but Beth didn't bother to look at the crowd, keeping her gaze locked on Negan and push herself off the wall to stand upright. She gave a sharp nod and clarified, "Even without havin' Ruby's body, or lookin' in those folders, the proof's on Isaac's body. Someone's been hurtin' him, now and before he got here."
"And is it not the whole goddamn point coming through your offices first for you or Dr. Carson to make sure that we do not bring that kind of filthy shit into our home?"
"That's right."
"And what did we agree would be the punishment someone who stupidly open us up this kind of damage?"
"They would get the iron," Beth's voice was low.
Negan dropped his volume to match hers and finally turned to lock eyes with her, "And who," he waived the file towards her, "let them in?"
Beth stared back, "The file says I did." She carried on as if no one was making a sound despite the many gasps and whispers echoing in the big open space of the factory floor, "I never met them before this week."
"But we can't prove that, can we?"
Beth shook her head.
"The bastard in question's dead, mom blown to bits, and the boy's so goddamn shaken up he can't even put two fucking words together. So unless you have an explanation as to how this could have happened, how your initials signing off on them coming in could have gotten on these pages along with clear proof that you knew this shit was going down under all our fucking noses…"
Connor whispered, "Carson, it's got to be."
"Or a nurse. Or anyone, really," Murphy countered, "It's not as if anything is really under lock and key around here. Well, except him," he tipped his head towards Daryl, who was on his knees with his back ramrod straight and his jaw clenched so tightly Aaron could see the slight tremor in his cheek even from a distance.
"You know what to do, so we might as well get it done. Rules are rules. And the rules keep us alive." Beth strode with a calm that bordered on confidence across the width of the factory floor towards Negan.
"The fuck?" Murphy was nearly on his feet before Connor pulled him back down.
"She won't call anyone out to face the iron if she doesn't have proof. But he can't mean to actually do it. It's Doc for Christsakes, he knows she didn't let something like this slip past her," Connor tried to reason.
"You want to tell them that?" Murphy snarked, yanking his arm free from his brother's grip.
Sure enough, the entire room seemed to be buzzing with tense, upset energy as Beth closed the distance between herself and Negan. Unlike the last time Negan had ironed one of their number, no one seemed willing to sit calmly by while Beth's face was branded. But none so badly as Daryl, who Dwight couldn't hold onto by himself. He twisted and wrenched himself violently out of his captor's grip until two other Saviors joined in to keep Daryl on his knees, with one forcing a strip of cloth between his teeth to quiet his protests.
Aaron didn't know what to do. Not that he could do anything in his condition. But Daryl was one of his closest friends, and she was –
There it was again, just like at the start of the meeting. As soon as Beth stopped walking to stand next to the table, both hands clenched into fists but down by her sides, her right hand flashed the briefest of "stop" signals. And judging by his slightly reduced struggles, Daryl had seen it too.
"Wait," Aaron whispered so low he barely breathed out the word. But the brothers next to him heard anyway.
Negan had already pulled on the heavy protective glove as he reached with his other hand to pull the sturdy ladderback chair out and twisted it to the side.
"I don't need a damn chair," Beth rejected the offer.
Negan eyed her with something like admiration in his eyes, "Suit yourself." He dragged it by the top rung until the chair's back was flush with the table, the seat facing towards the back wall. "Dr. Carson," Negan crooked his finger, gesturing for the man to come forward. "I know you've had a hell of a day. Unfortunately, it's not quite over. We'll be needing your services very shortly."
As Dr. Carson made his way to the front of the room, Beth maneuvered herself to the other side of the chair, closer to Negan and the furnace, and dropped to one knee, hands braced on her thigh.
At her willing surrender, everyone in the room seemed to quiet down, but the tension was still palpable.
"You sure about this?" Negan asked.
Beth nodded.
Negan used the hook to pull the glowing iron from the flames. As he looked back towards the room, he smirked, "Now this won't do. Dr. Carson, you are blocking Daryl's view." He used his free hand to thumb over his shoulder like a hitchhiker. "And he is not going to want to miss this."
Dr. Carson scuttled to stand slightly behind Beth, on the other side of her from Negan.
Negan brought the hot iron within inches of Beth's face. "Last chance to change your mind."
Beth cocked her head to the side to look directly into his eyes, "I'm Negan."
And then she pounced. Beth launched herself onto the chair just as Negan used his free hand to shove Carson towards the table. Standing on the chair gave the slight woman all the advantage she needed to propel herself onto the unsuspecting doctor's upper back and shoulders, forcing him face-down onto the metal surface, with Carson scrabbling to brace his fall with outstretched hands. Beth wasn't having it. Keeping one knee firmly planted on his spine and her other foot firmly planted on the chair to steady her balance, she brought her elbows down directly between his shoulder blades. Howling in pain, Carson's arms collapsed under the assault, giving Beth the opening she needed to push his elbows forward until his arms were outstretched and his wrists caught in Negan's determined grip.
He took his time with the branding, using the slip of freshly-melted flesh to slide the hot metal from one hand to the other, until the backs of both of Dr. Carson's hands were thoroughly burnt.
As he put the iron back into the furnace to char off the bits of skin and sinew that clung to its edges, Negan calmly addressed the sobbing man still bent over the table, "Do you know what it was that got you caught? It was the same damn thing you tried to use to frame the good Dr. Dixon here. Paperwork. God bless bureaucracy. Now there's a phrase no one expected to utter in this new world. But that's what did you in. Goddamned paperwork. You see," he started pacing, speaking more to the shocked crowd of spectators than Carson, "For the fucking life of me, I couldn't make sense of it. How could it not be the Doc? Because everyone, and I don't just mean all these people, but every community, outposts, every fucking one of us knows that if the Doc's not with her kids, she's in that fucking hospital wing. And if she wasn't a mom, I'm pretty damn sure she'd just move right on in, crash on whatever bed was empty and call it done. She is in those rooms at some point of every damned day since she got here, so how in the holy hell could anyone, much less a family of three, move in here without her being the one to clear them?"
He picked up the discarded file folders and got down in Carson's line of sight, "You couldn't change the date," Negan grinned triumphantly before standing up again and raising his voice, "The forgeries were good, fucking masterpieces. Clearly you led an interesting past life – this kind of skill does not come without serious fucking practice. But you couldn't change the day they came in. I don't know if you didn't think about it, or didn't think it was important, or maybe you realized just how fucking impossible it would be and hoped to fucking God no one would notice. I don't really give a shit. Because it doesn't really matter. What does fucking matter is that someone who broke the biggest rule we have, who put his hands on his own goddamned wife and kid, was under our roof, and since I thought I'd be having a real come-to-Jesus meeting with him tonight, I was prepared to tear his fucking life apart, starting from the first day he slithered his way through our gate. And that's when I realized just how much fucking paperwork it takes to keep this place going. Fucking unreal when you think about it. But it's not just a medical check, is it?" Negan started counting off on one hand, "Got to get an apartment. Got to get clothes. Got to get food rations. Got to get a points log. And a job schedule. So much goddamned red tape. You'd think we'd be past all that, new world order and all. But here we are. And all those dates had to match. So you couldn't change yours."
Negan paused, "December 28 of this past year. I bet, once it dawns on you all, every last one of us knows exactly where the fuck we were that day. I know I do. Because on December 27th, my darling Amber's mother's health went from shit to real bad shit. M.S., fucking sucks the life out of you. Amber wouldn't leave her mother's side. And the Doc, being who she is, wouldn't let her go through it alone. So she tucked her kids into bed and came back to the hospital wing that night. Not her shift, not for extra points. Just to be there. Which is why the Doc was awake to hear the radio call. Our new outpost was on fire. Grabbed her kit and came running to join us so she could help anyone injured. And because we didn't know anything more than that, I had no problem bringing her along for the ride."
From the noises around the room, Aaron knew the rest of the Sanctuary's occupants were catching on to what he'd already figured out. Alexandria's attack on the satellite station.
"She helped put down the dead. And when it was daylight, she put her tracking skills to use to lead us through the woods, all the way to the trees outside the Alexandria Safe Zone's walls. And then I watched her get the shock of her fucking life to see her own goddamned brother-in-law standing on their watchtower."
Aaron took a steadying breath as he watched Beth try to keep her face clear of emotion while Negan spoke. A quick glance to Daryl showed he was struggling on the inside as well. At some point, all the Saviors who'd been holding him back had let go, but Daryl stayed kneeling, the cloth gag that had been tied across his mouth now hanging limp around his neck.
Aaron had never put much thought into how their whole situation had initially affected Beth. He knew from his first private encounter with Negan that the Saviors had scouted their community. And obviously, Beth had to have told him about her family at some point for Negan to know how important Daryl was to her. But he couldn't imagine how it must have felt for her, tracking an enemy through the woods only to find her family in the worst possible circumstances. It would be as if Eric had turned up in that clearing, but as one of the Saviors surrounding him, a gun steadily trained on their friends.
But Negan was still addressing the room, "By the time that day was done, Beth Dixon had spent an entire day, and night, and a whole other fucking day working her ass off for us. Because she's a Savior. Because she's Negan. But she's not fucking super-woman. Which is why, when we got back home, she went straight to her place and crashed. Making December 28 the only goddamned day in the two fucking years since she got here that the Doc didn't set foot in the infirmary. But you know who did?"
He turned back to Dr. Carson, who was still pinned to the table under Beth's weight with his legs limply dangling underneath, arms outstretched and shaking from pain. "Turns out, I didn't need to ask the kid or his shit excuse for a father. I just needed to ask my darling wife, who very clearly remembered how you, quite competently, tended to her dying mother in her final hours. Except, of course, for when you had to step out and deal with a few new arrivals." Negan leaned down as if to have a private word with his victim, but his voice carried in the shocked silence, "I want to know why. I want to know what possible explanation you have for this," he shoved the files under Dr. Carson's sweating face.
Carson's mouth gaped like a fish trying to breathe air before Negan's patience wore thin, "I think you owe it to the people who died today, to the ones who got hurt, to their family and friends, and you definitely fucking owe it to her," he pointed at Beth, still bearing her weight down on Carson's back to keep him in place, "and if you can't find it in your gutless corpse to explain it on your own, I will happily pull that iron back out of the fire and offer you a bit more motivation."
"I… it… you…" Emmett Carson stammered, wildly gazing around the room as if the words he needed would somehow manifest on the walls around them.
Beth leaned down slightly, keeping her hands firmly braced between his shoulder blades until the man's cheek was firmly pressed against the table, "Let's make this a bit easier. Did you check them over that day, or just wave 'em on through? Few weeks ago, I asked ya to take a look at Ruby, that I thought something was wrong with her. Did you know all along? Or did ya only find out then and realize what you'd done?"
"I panicked," Emmett choked out. "I… Everything happening that day… you were out there… bodies coming in and gossip flying, everyone wanting to know… they seemed decent enough… but then, it's like you said, you asked me to check on Mrs. Lassiter, and I knew… I thought… he'd never hurt you… you're everyone's favorite," he finished lamely.
Even through the man's obvious pain, something about his words rang hollow with Aaron. But the explanation didn't seem to bother Negan.
"Turn your hands over."
Negan was pulling the iron back out of the furnace.
"I'd do it," Beth's voice was calm but her face was stony, "It's gonna happen either way."
When Carson still hesitated, she balled her fists and leaned forward, grinding her knuckles deep into the spaces under his shoulder blades until he cried out in fresh agony.
Negan grabbed the wrist closest to him, "You had your chance." He pressed the bright-hot iron into the doctor's palm for several seconds before lifting the metal just to bring it down over his trembling fingers.
Sticking the iron back into the fire once more to re-heat it for Carson's remaining hand, Negan mused, "In case you haven't put it together by now, your days of practicing medicine here are done. In fact, I'm pretty fucking sure your time practicing medicine anywhere is officially behind you. I'm no expert, but I'm betting that those hands are way fucking beyond a full recovery. But don't you worry, Emmett, the whole point of delivering a painful lesson like this one is that you live a good long while to learn from it. But not here."
He grabbed the iron and quickly slammed it down on Dr. Carson's other hand, searing the flesh and forever scarring both hands. "First thing tomorrow, you are heading back to Hilltop. See, I might not feel the need to let Lucille have your head for this, but I sure as shit do not trust you living under my roof anymore. Good news is, you've got a brother. Is he a big brother or a baby brother? Doesn't matter, really, important thing is, he's a brother who's also a doctor! So at least we won't be short-handed."
Negan paused long enough to put the iron back into the furnace a final time before stripping off the protective glove and tossing it on the table. "You can let him up now, Doc." He turned to a couple of nearby Saviors, "Pick him up and put him somewhere comfy for the night. Seeing as how our cell is still occupied, that stairway landing will do. Make sure he stays there until morning." He raised his voice to the crowd, "No one touches him, no one goes anywhere near him. We aren't in the revenge business. We are about justice. And he's paid his dues."
"What about Daryl?"
Negan sighed and turned to Charlie Preston, who'd brought himself to his feet.
"God damn, Charlie, I know I opened myself up to this, bringing up the outpost attack and all, but could we just not, for one fucking night?"
"That's not what I meant." The old man pressed forward. "He could've run. Was out there, free and clear, and he knew after that wife-beater turned up dead there'd be Hell to pay. But he came back anyhow. Could have sat his ass out, safe and sound like the rest of us, when that bomb went off. 'Stead, he's the first one down there helpin' our people. We let the other one walk around, work with us, live with us, and we did it without him doin' shit to prove himself. When's Daryl done enough? When's he paid his dues?"
"Don't."
Everyone, even Negan, turned to Daryl with clear surprise and confusion on their faces. Daryl was still by the furnace, still on his knees, but his eyes were locked on the old man who'd just stuck his neck out for him.
"Don't," he repeated softly. "You can't be speakin' up for me."
Negan intervened, "Daryl had his chance and he made his choice."
"Oh, fuck that," Charlie dismissed, "No one gave him any kind of choice," he gestured flippantly in Aaron's direction, "Had him scrubbed down and bundled off to that old folks home you're always tryin' to talk me into. They come from the same place, done the same shit, ain't no reason for him to be takin' up that cell when he's got a wife and kids he could – "
"I killed your grandson." Again, Daryl's voice was quiet, but he might has well have used a bullhorn. Even Beth looked shocked. Daryl kept his chin down but his eyes looked up to meet Charlie's gaze, "I killed him. No one else. Saw his picture in the book. He made it out of the building just fine. Got rounded up with the others. We were lookin' for Negan. He said that's who he was. Tryin' to protect the rest of the group. I shot him. So you can't… you can't be speakin' up for me."
For several moments, no one seemed to know what to do. Finally, Charlie responded, "Well, then, seems like I'm the one who's got the most right in sayin' what happens to you. You feel like shit for what you done?"
Daryl didn't speak or move, but something must have shown in his expression, because Charlie nodded. "Good. Fucking do something about it, make it right."
"I can't…" Daryl cut himself off, and for the first time, he allowed some of the guilt he was feeling to show in his expression, "Ain't no way. Your boy, he was just protectin' his own. And he never did anythin' to me or mine. Ain't no way to make that right. And I can't…" Aaron watched Daryl's eyes drift to Beth before he pulled himself together and faced Charlie again, "You taught your boys to be good men. I… I ain't any kind of father," again, his gaze shifted, almost as if of its own accord, to Beth, "I can't be… They can't be makin' the same mistakes I… We seen it before…They gotta know, some things stick with you, can't be undone." Whatever silent communication or shared memory was passing between Beth and Daryl at that moment, Aaron could only guess at. The moment was over almost as soon as it had begun.
"So you're just gonna stay in that box forever, whining like a goddamned sissy and doing fuck-all to be useful," Charlie scornfully summed up.
Daryl bristled at the verbal barb, "That ain't – "
But Charlie seemed to be done listening to Daryl, deliberately turning to face Negan, who had, like everyone else in the room, been watching the exchange with unconcealed interest, "Ain't doin' shit for me or anyone else around here to have him washing dishes or poking fence walkers with a stick. If you're gonna keep him here, at least have him doing something that actually helps folks out. Ain't that the whole goddamned point of keeping Alexandria alive? So they can be useful?"
Negan tipped his head to the side, "Man does have a point. It does seem a goddamned shame to waste talent, and someone like you is bound to have at least one or two tricks up his sleeve."
Murphy nudged Connor, jostling Aaron slightly in the process. The pair quickly shared a look before Connor nodded and Murphy called out, "He said something earlier today, when we were searching for survivors, something about being in construction before."
Negan turned back to Daryl with an expectant look.
"Houses," Daryl clarified, "From time to time."
"Well, I've got a big fucking hole in my floor. Cracks in my walls. So that's settled. First thing tomorrow, you're off shit-list duty."
And then, as if to physically put the whole emotionally complicated mess behind him, Negan moved himself closer to the assembled crowd, putting his back to Daryl and Beth, who was still near the table where they'd branded Emmett Carson. "Remember, no one goes on that side of the building until we get the all-clear. Could be days, could be weeks. Something else this situation has brought to light. While I hope this was just a one-off fuck-up on the soon-to-be-departing Dr. Carson's part, fact is, we have a goddamned hole in our Sanctuary. And we cannot afford to let something like this happen again. Which is why, starting tomorrow, Dr. Dixon, our new head doctor, will be re-doing medical checks for everyone. You are all expected to give her your full cooperation. If, for whatever reason, you think that's not going to work for you, then, before morning shift starts tomorrow, we'll open the gates for ten minutes. That will be your one and only chance to walk away clean. Until then, I think we've had enough for one day. Go home."
Aaron stayed in his seat as the crowd dispersed. Having never used crutches before, he was awkward and worried he'd end up tripping someone if he tried to move through the throngs of people. Besides, staying quietly on the sidelines allowed him the chance to listen to people's comments. And gave him the opportunity to see Negan approach Beth as she attempted to leave unnoticed.
"Congratulations on the promotion, Doc. Though, truth be told, it's not like we all didn't know you were pretty much running things already. Still, hell of a responsibility. Sorry for springing the surprise physicals on you, but you understand, right?"
"Of course," she nodded, frowning slightly, "Who knows what damage Emmett's done? We need to be safe, and to be safe, we need to be thorough."
Negan nodded, "Um-hmm," he hummed, as if to say yes, and that's not all… But rather than give voice to whatever he meant, Negan switched gears, "Hell of a job you did, Doc," he grinned. "I get so used to you being all sweet and obliging. But you are one badass motherfucker."
"Don't you forget it," Beth replied, soft and serious, before turning on her heel and striding out of the room.
Negan chuckled to himself as he walked over to where Aaron was still sitting. But it wasn't Aaron he wanted to talk to.
"First thing tomorrow, I need you two," he gestured to Murphy and Connor, "to take in Isaac. One of you should be with him wherever he goes."
"You sure about this?"
Negan's face was grim, "Keep him safe." He waited just long enough for both men to nod in acknowledgement before striding away.
Connor waited until Negan was a safe distance away before observing, "He does know that we have absolutely no fucking clue how to take care of a child, right?"
"It's not rocket science," Aaron quipped under his breath. He sighed, "Look, just… tomorrow, go to his room, get his bed, or at least his sheets and pillow, his clothes, and his favorite toy. And his mother's pillow, too. Listen to him, be patient. Get him settled into a routine. He'll open up to you when he's ready."
"How do we know which toy is his favorite?" Murphy asked.
"It'll be in his bed, or right next to it," Aaron declared. Seeing their matching blank expressions, he added, "First thing he grabs when he gets up in the morning and the last thing he puts down before he falls asleep – that's his favorite. And he'll have an easier time falling asleep if he has his own blankets and pillow because they're familiar. You'll know which pillow was hers by the hairs on it, and, you'll want it because…" he sighed, "it'll smell like her, might help him with nightmares."
"Maybe he should be staying with you," Murphy suggested, a slight smile but at the same time being serious about the idea.
Aaron was incredulous, "Have you lost your mind?" he asked as quietly as possible, mindful that, while many people had cleared out, the room was not completely empty. "I may not know everything that's going on here, but I am not an idiot. Negan might want to sweep today under the rug as some one-off crazy incident, there is a reason he, and you, and Daryl are all worried about Isaac's safety. And no matter how much everyone around here seems to have suddenly warmed up to me and Daryl and everyone else from Alexandria, there's a reason that I wasn't given so much as a butter knife in my apartment. Even without my ankle being like it is, I have absolutely no way of protecting that child. So you two are going to have to suck it up and figure this out. And not traumatize him even more than he already is. Poor kid's been through more than enough."
"You gotta get out of here."
It was what Daryl had wanted to say to Beth as soon as the crowd began disbursing, but Dwight had him by the scruff of his sweatshirt collar and was hauling him back to his cell with such tenacity that Daryl could almost believe Dwight had read his mind to know just how badly he'd needed to check on Beth in that moment. Daryl really hoped Dwight proved to be aligned with Simon. He hadn't wished someone dead since the Governor killed his brother, but he couldn't say he wouldn't feel pretty damn satisfied if the irritating son-of-a-bitch lost what was left of his face to Negan's bat.
Beth turned up just moments after Dwight slammed the door, but Daryl was too wound up to be placated by her arrival. Too close. He'd been too damn close to failing all over again, to having done everything right and still not being enough. So when she stepped into the cramped cell, Daryl wasted no time tugging her in and pulling the door shut behind her. Like he had the first time she'd appeared in his cell, he ignored his usual aversion to touch and moved his hands over her arms and torso with frenzied fingers occasionally snagging in stray tangles hairs that had come loose from her braid, not so much to check for injuries but more to assure himself she was there and safe. He kept his voice low, mindful of potential eavesdroppers, "You gotta get out of here."
In the dark, he couldn't see her face, but his imagination could fill in the gaps from her surprised "What? I – "
"Don't. You and Negan had your fun with that little show, but you can't screw around like that again. You gotta see that stickin' around here is suicide. Tonight, Beth, I mean it. You take your kids, go to that farm, or wherever he's keepin' Maggie. Hell, take 'em all the way back to Georgia."
"Daryl, I can't," Beth cut in. "You saw – "
"Yeah, I saw alright, on my fucking knees, unable to do shit while you're – "
She put a hand on his chest, which stopped his words but did nothing for the heaving breaths he forced through his nostrils.
"It was all for show, you said it yourself," Beth's tone and words were measured as if she were talking to a small child, and it was doing nothing for Daryl's nerves. "Negan and I had it all worked out and I was gonna tell you, but y'all got back so late and there just wasn't – "
"Look, you said you could leave whenever you wanted. That true or ain't it?" Steadying hand on his chest or no, Daryl's patience with the day and this whole place was shot.
Beth's hand slipped away, but the familiar whirr of the emergency lantern's hand crank soon had the room flooded with the blue-white glow. Daryl was taken back, though, by the intensity of Beth's glare.
"Don't treat me like I'm stupid, Daryl. Like you think I don't know how bad today was. I knew every single person we either treated or said goodbye to, and until a few hours ago, Emmett Carson was my friend. You don't even know how much he helped me learn. So, yeah, I can leave, but no, I ain't gonna," Beth declared. "Ya think runnin' away's gonna fix anything? What about our family? What about Aaron, and Maggie?"
"She left you behind easy enough," Daryl grumbled under his breath.
"Well, I ain't her!" Beth caught her rising temper and took a visible, shoulder-shifting breath to calm herself enough to lower her voice. "Ain't nothin' about any of this is gonna get better by runnin' and hidin' in the woods somewhere. And even if it could, that ain't who we are. I'm sorry ya got scared today, but you know who else is scared? Simon, or whoever wanted that thing goin' off in my medical ward, and they'll be lookin' to find a new way to take over. Negan, who thought he had it all figured out and won't have any problem lashing out at the people who matter most to us if it helps him stay on top. And maybe Liam and Lily aren't old enough to know what's what, but Sunni and Tim sure are, and while everyone else got to hold on to their families for a bit, they had to watch and keep on being scared while I took care of everyone else but them."
You dumb shit, Daryl felt is his angst deflating the longer she railed. Just like at the moonshine still, having someone – no, having Beth – get in his face allowed him to get out of his own way and get a better perspective. Ain't the only one having a shit day. Tough as nails, but helping Negan torture Carson – she ain't cold like that. And not being able to check on her own kids after the bombing just because everyone's eyes were on her. They weren't the only ones scared today.
When it was clear she was out of things to say to him, at least for the moment, Daryl felt about as low as he had at the still once he'd run out of tears and sobered up enough to realize how badly he'd treated her that afternoon. What he wanted to say was something along the lines of I'm sorry. I don't want you running away because I think you're some dumb little girl who can't fend for herself. I'm just scared I won't be enough, that I'll lose you all over again. I know you're tough enough to take on everything they've got and keep on fighting, but you shouldn't feel like you've got to do it all alone. And then you come down here probably looking for the first friendly face you've seen all day, and instead I unload all my shit on you.
That's what he meant to say, but all that came out was, "I'm an asshole."
Beth let out an involuntary, but not indelicate, snort and offered a half-grin. "Been a rough day for all of us." He noticed she wasn't disagreeing with his comment, but he figured he more than deserved it, and she wasn't glaring anymore. He'd take what he could get.
She inched towards him, closing the already tight space between them, "I know this place is awful for ya," and he knew she meant more than just the cell they were currently standing in. "Got you too closed in and nowhere to go or room to breathe, and then today everyone seein'…"
Daryl could taste faintly the blood in his mouth where he worried through the inside of his lower lip. His scars. He'd nearly forgotten about that. Outside of Hershel (for medical purposes only), no one in their family had seen him without a shirt, and now –
"I didn't look," Beth revealed, her gaze dropping from his face to settle on one of the new dried blood spots on his sweatshirt. "I knew you wouldn't want me to, so when I saw it was you comin' up through that window, I made sure not to… Was a time I would have, I dunno, snuck a glance or two. Would've tried to tell ya they don't mean nothin', or that they prove you're stronger, something... But it ain't about that," she whispered. "Sometimes it's all ya got, the only thing left that's yours to choose." Even with her chin tipped low and the lantern light throwing strange and deep shadows, Daryl could see in her eyes that her thoughts were somewhere else, a time and place she'd yet to tell him about. "Even when you know it's not the most important thing, it's yours and you hold onto it because it's what you've got… I'm sorry you had to give that up today. But for whatever it's worth, just… I didn't look."
She finally met his gaze again, and he wished he had something more profound to say than a softly grunted, "Thanks." He hoped the look he gave her was enough to show what it meant to him that she'd respected his need for privacy even with everything that had been going on around them. He hoped someday he'd figure out how to repay her.
"I should be gettin' upstairs." Daryl couldn't tell if her soft tone was wistful or filled with regret. Maybe torn between both. It seemed to him Beth was always being pulled in different directions with little left to hold onto for herself. Except…
"Sooner we get this done, sooner we can get you into that millhouse you talked about," Daryl offered, trying to show he was on her side. That he was willing to do this on her terms.
It earned him more of a smile. "That will be somethin' to look forward to," she replied. "Not running away. Just – "
"Moving forward." He recalled her words from their first night together since he'd lost her in Georgia.
"Yeah," Beth agreed and took a deep breath, "And then we get you free and you can go on to whatever it is that makes you happy."
Daryl frowned, "Thought I was invited?"
"Daryl," she sighed, already halfway through the open doorway, "Think we both know you'll be a whole lot better off when you ain't stuck lookin' after me anymore."
What the Hell just happened? But she was already gone, hadn't even bothered to lock the door behind her.
He'd half a mind to go after her, stopping short at the door frame only because 1 – he'd bought himself some kind of goodwill today and it probably wasn't worth risking, and 2 – he thought she might be needing a little space from him to deal with all she'd been through that day.
So instead of doing what he really wanted, Daryl pushed himself off from the doorframe and let the momentum carry him back to the opposite wall, sliding down the painted cinderblock to settle on the concrete slab floor with barely an audible thud. The movement jostled his sore muscles enough that he allowed himself the wince and quiet grunt.
The next few days would be rough, he knew, backbreaking work on top of already sore and strained muscles. Nothing he hadn't pushed through before; more than once he and Merle had been picked up after a bar fight. The cops would almost always find some outstanding warrant on his big brother. But when Daryl's involvement was questioned, Merle had always scoffed about his sweet, soft baby brother didn't have the balls for whatever it was Merle himself was accused of. With nothing to hold him on, Daryl had always been released after a night in the drunk tank, where he'd then be left to figure out what to do with himself for the next few months until Merle got out and he could trail after him again. Daryl had resented Merle back then, but he could look back now and see his brother's attitude for the protective gesture it was.
Not entirely unlike the end-run he'd just tried to do on Beth, scuttling her off to the sidelines somewhere so he could take the brunt of whatever was coming next. Except, unlike him, Beth wasn't got to let herself be dismissed so easily. Ain't like there's anywhere safe for her to be anyhow, jackass. And if your whole life's taught you anything, it's that you really don't want to be alone.
The door opened easily, Negan's gloved hand pressed flat against the painted metal until it hit the other wall. Daryl had heard the footsteps approaching – he'd just hoped whoever it was would pass him by.
Negan's eyes were hooded and his expression unusually stony, "You must be the dumbest motherfucker on the whole goddamned planet."
Beth kept her back straight and a pleasant smile plastered on her face, nodding to those she passed feeling, more keenly tonight than usual, the many eyes following her movements. But as soon as she got to the medical greenhouse and was certain she was alone and the plastic sheeting that served as the greenhouse's walls was obscuring everyone's view of her, she dropped into a crouch and curled in on herself, wrapping her arms around her knees, letting the tears she'd held back all afternoon stream down her face and wishing she could hide under the tables the way she'd used to hide in her closet whenever she'd heard Maggie and her parents in a shouting match over her rebellious smoking and shoplifting habits.
Today had been too much. She knew those people in assisted living, knew their families, knew they were all depending on her and, even though she had nothing to do with what had happened today, she'd felt like she'd failed. And this was the one thing she'd been really good at, the one place where no one thought of her as being less than everyone else.
And it had been too close. For all she'd brushed it off and acted confident in her place with the Saviors, she'd been genuinely afraid of how the day would turn out. She wasn't stupid and she wasn't naïve like Daryl seemed to think. Beth knew that Negan was self-centered and that he'd put his own survival above anyone else's, including hers.
She was still scared, for herself and for her children. If it really came down to it, she knew she couldn't protect them by herself. Not in a physical fight and not with all these manipulations and politics (for lack of a better word). That wasn't who she was. So when she went to Daryl's cell tonight, she'd really been hoping, counting on even, to lean on his strength, just for a minute or two so she could get her emotional bearings again. Just to feel protected. Like after burning the moonshine still, or even before that; Daryl might have gotten on her last nerve with his gruff manners and silent treatment back then, but she'd known that he'd never let anything happen to her. Not that she didn't know that now, but it felt like everything was up to her, and had been for so long, and she just wanted a few moments of feeling like she could depend on someone else to do the heavy lifting for a change.
Beth wasn't being fair, and she knew it. Daryl had given up his freedom for her. She hadn't been there that night that Negan cornered her family in the clearing, but she'd heard enough from the Saviors who were to imagine how she'd have felt in her family's place. And she meant it when she said she got why he stood by Rick, taking the hard road for himself with a moral stand against what Negan and the Saviors stood for, and the more comfortable life he could have, while everyone in Alexandria would be barely scraping by and living in near-constant fear. It was honorable, and Beth knew, even if he didn't believe it about himself, that Daryl was one of the most honorable and good men left in this world. But she'd thought – just for a moment, now that he knew the Saviors weren't all bad and she was making a life for herself here – when the opportunity came up, he'd choose her.
She wasn't mad at him, exactly. She couldn't be – he'd spoken from his heart (no easy feat from the likes of Daryl Dixon, she knew). And him thinking he needed to keep punishing himself for his part in the outpost attack made perfect sense to anyone who understood Daryl. It's just… It was hard to keep going it alone when the person she'd come to trust the most to have her back was right there and just… wouldn't.
Disappointed. That was it. Beth felt disappointed. Choosing her didn't mean not choosing Rick or the others, but she didn't know how to get Daryl to see that. It hurt, knowing that she meant something to Daryl (and she knew that she did), but it still wasn't enough. It felt like Maggie's road signs for Glenn all over again. Beth counted, but only after the ones who mattered more. Wasn't she anyone's first choice?
Yes, she heard a little voice inside her head. Tim and Sunni and Lily and Liam. You're their first choice and here you are, cryin' yourself silly like the little girl everyone always said you were, while they're waiting upstairs wondering why you're not with them.
She swiped the moisture away from her eyes and cheeks and tried to rub the wet spots out of her vest – no point in letting her kids know she'd been crying. Suddenly feeling an urgent need to have her arms around her babies, she took the elevator rather than the stairs as she normally would, sliding under the fire escape railing with less grace than she'd like. Out of practice, need to be exercising and stretching regularly. Never know when you might need to run. She had gotten lax, she knew, and couldn't afford to be. People were counting on her, and it didn't matter if she wasn't able to count on anyone.
If nothing else, today's events had made this much clear: it was down to her. Somehow, she was going to have to get Negan and Rick to see eye to eye so her family could be whole again. And whatever it was going to take, she would just have to make it happen, and not wait for anyone else to step in and either help or get in her way.
As soon as Beth opened the door into her apartment, she knew she was exactly where she was meant to be. The twins barreled into her legs and Sunni nearly tripped herself trying to reach over them for a hug, fear clearly shining in her bright green eyes. Tim, she could tell, was just barely holding himself back from doing the same.
"I'm fine," Beth declared to her oldest two, using the close contact with her daughter as a chance to tug the ties out of Sunni's braided hair and ruffle her fingers through the plaits to loosen them. When Tim didn't seem to believe her, Beth stressed, "I mean it, everything's fine. Let's get these two settled down for the night and I'll tell you all about it."
I should have been up here earlier. With everything that happened today, they must've been worried sick. And if anyone ought to be put first, it's them.
"You know what? Let's have a sleepover in my bed tonight, just the three of us," Beth smiled as Sunni visibly perked up.
Will you sing? The girl signed one-handed, keeping her other arm firmly wrapped around Beth's waist.
Beth didn't answer, just moved their little group over to the far corner of the room where the electric piano sat under a thin layer of dust and haphazardly scattered sheet music. Technically, instrument belonged to the entire sixth floor, everyone having chipped in after Beth had mentioned how much she missed playing during a floor-wide Christmas dinner her first year here. A few months later, the full-sized keyboard had been scavenged and brought into the Sanctuary's market, only to be snatched up by her neighbors that same afternoon. It rested on a plywood flat with wheels and was occasionally rolled to other apartments, but everyone had determined that it would be generally housed with Beth. Sweeping her hand through the dust to clear it, she regretted, not for the first time, that she so seldom used the generous gift.
"Any requests?" she deliberately tipped her voice to a lighter tone as Liam and Lily both clamored into her lap, each turning sideways and tucking their heads against her shoulders. Sunni was determined to stay close as well, squeezing herself onto the narrow bench and leaning against Beth's side. At the question, the girl shook her head, her wavy blonde hairs whipping lightly at her cheeks after being freed from their pigtail braids.
From the spot he chose at the end of Beth's bed, laying on his stomach with his chin propped on folded arms, Tim answered for both of them, "Whatever you want, Mom."
Beth turned on the instrument and checked that the volume was low enough not to disturb the neighbors, even though the main room of her space was in a corner of the building and no one occupied the space directly next to her. She absently toyed with a few melodies, thoughts drifting inevitably to the person she wished were up here with them. It was so much simpler before, she thought to herself. Losing the prison had been both one of the worst things she'd experienced but also led to some of her best memories building a connection with someone she'd respected, if not outright admired, from a distance. But whatever threads she and Daryl had been tying together between them back then were now all tangled up in complicated knots, and she was tired of other people tugging at those strings.
Her fingers found the notes to an old favorite from her early teenage days of naïve angst when she foolishly thought she understood the world and all it had to offer her, and she sang it softly, adjusting the lyrics to fit her feelings.
You breathed infinity into my world
And time was lost up in a cloud and in a whirl.
We dug a hole in the cool grey earth and lay there for the night.
Then you said, "wait for me, we'll fly the wind,
We'll grow old and you'll be stronger." But I'm bitter now.
My world was at your feet. I was lost and I was found,
But I was alive, and now I've drowned.
You sighed and I was lost in you, weeks could've past for all I knew.
You were the blanket in an ugly world and so I couldn't say,
I wouldn't say no. They all said, "you're too young to even know,
Just don't let it grow and you'll be stronger without him."
But oh, now, my world is at your feet. I was lost and I was found,
But I was alive, and now I've drowned.
So now I will be waiting for the world to hear my song
So they can tell me I was wrong.
But they weren't there beneath your stare,
And they weren't stripped 'till they were bare of
Any bindings from the world outside that room.
Before she could even get halfway through the chorus, Beth knew she needed to change things up. Hadn't she just promised herself that she was going to be strong for her kids and herself? And here she was, throwing a musical pity-party.
And they weren't taken by the hand
And led through fields of naked land
Where any pre-conceived ideas were blown away,
So I couldn't say no…
But their pride-like promises can let you down.
Beth's fingers stumbled a bit – she hadn't played this one since well before the Turn. But she wasn't going to let a little thing like unfamiliarity stop her from pushing through the more up-beat tune.
You thought that you'd be feeling better by now.
You worry all the things they could do to you, and
You worry about the things they could say.
Maybe you're seeing things the wrong way.
Don't let 'em get where they're going to.
You know they're only what they think of you.
You heard of this emotional trickery,
And you felt like you were learning the ropes,
But where you're going now you don't know.
And when the kids on the street say
What's your problem girl?
And the weight of their smiles just
Too much for you to bear,
When they all make you feel
Like you're a problem girl,
Remember, you're no problem at all.
Try.
If you stand or you fall,
You're no problem at all.
"Mom?" Beth turned as Tim spoke in a quiet voice after the last notes had faded, "Are we safe now?"
Beth breathed deep and then sat up a little more determinedly, "We will be."
"You had them, you get that, right? You had the whole fucking Sanctuary eating out of the palm of your fucking hand and you fucking gave it away!" Negan was near yelling by this point, "Have you lost your goddamned mind? The fuck is wrong with you?"
Daryl didn't bother attempting to get to his knees, or feet, or whatever he was supposed to do now. The day had been too long and draining, his body too sore and energy spent. Instead, he stared blankly as Negan continued to berate him, genuinely exasperated.
"I don't fucking get you, I really don't." Negan was a bundle of pent-up energy, itching to pace in the tiny gap of the cell's entrance and frustrated at the lack of room do to so. "You do understand that she likes you, right? I mean, you're not fucking stupid! And you like women, I think. Or at least you like her. That much I'm goddamned sure of. God fucking dammit, I can't believe I'm having this fucking conversation – " Negan kept clenching his fists and his teeth in aggravation as he tried to rein himself back down to a reasonable volume. "You are the most stubbornly stupid son-of-a-bitch I've ever met, but goddamn if I am not going to get through to your emotionally stunted self." He took a deep, steadying breath.
"Women are…" Negan searched for the right word, "awesome, okay? They're fucking amazing – different shape, size, color, personality, all wrapped up in these beautiful, fantastic-smelling packages, and I love 'em all!" He was full-on grinning, and Daryl imagined Negan picturing the various women he'd had in his life as he described, "Some women, they're… they're special. There's just something more about them. And Beth, she's one of those. She's special. And these special women, they deserve perfection. They deserve to walk through life never feeling sad, or lonely, or hurt, or even fucking inconvenienced. Beth deserves that, yes?"
Privately, Daryl agreed, but outwardly gave no sign beyond continuing to stare from his seated position against the wall of his cell.
"She can't have it," Negan stated matter-of-factly. "No matter how much she deserves it, no matter how much you or I or everyone else around her would like to give it to her, a perfect life just isn't in the cards for Beth. The world is shit, and some of that shit has made its way into her world and that's just the way it is. Fucking sucks, but there you have it. So if she can't have perfect, then she ought to at least get what she needs, right? Except Beth is the kind of girl who isn't looking to someone to take care of her. Anything she needs, she fucking goes and gets it. Beth isn't sitting around, waiting for a man to rescue her or sweep her off her feet or even to pick up the fucking check. She's too damn feisty and independent, and she's going to take care of her own."
Negan took a breath, "So if she can't have what she deserves, and she'll get what she needs without anyone's help or say-so, then all that's left is to give her what she wants. And for some reason God only knows, what she wants is you."
His theatrical personality couldn't help but pause for effect before continuing, "I don't know why. The way she held out for you, I had you all kinds of built up in my head. But watching you for more than a month now, I just don't fucking get it. Sure, you've got some skills, some personality quirks, but on the whole? There is nothing special about Daryl Dixon. Just another asshole too stubborn to die. Beth could spit in any direction and hit half a dozen men no better or worse than you. But she picks you. Fights for you. Lies for you – or at least misleads for you. Sets you up for success with all those blind-following fuckers back there, and what do you do with it?"
Some of the anger leached back into his voice, "You might have them all fooled, thinking that was some kind of nobility or humble shit, but you and I both know that ain't the whole fucking truth. You're scared of her. And you should be – Beth's the kind of woman you'd be absolutely fucking stupid not to be at least a little bit afraid of. But you let that fear not only fuck yourself over but her, too? Well, that just makes you a goddamned coward piece-of-shit stupid motherfucker. You think Rick Grimes cares that you're sitting here? You think he's got some secret superhuman Daryl-radar that goes off with a blaring siren in his head – Red alert! Daryl's putting someone else's feelings above the all-needy Rick Fucking Grimes! News flash, Daryl, this" Negan circled his gloved index finger around the general space of Daryl's cell, "does not help him. It doesn't help anyone back in Alexandria. Doesn't help Maggie. Doesn't help Aaron. And thanks to today's series of semi-fortunate events, this doesn't help my people anymore, either. And it sure as shit doesn't help Beth. So your little 'sackcloth and ashes' routine here is helping exactly no one. Which brings me back to my original point: You sitting here, miserable, shit-smelling, and alone, when you could be upstairs sharing a comfortable life with a fucking amazingly special woman, doing whatever the fuck-all it is you two used to do together that made her decide you were the only thing she wants in this world – you must be the stupidest motherfucker on the whole goddamned planet."
Negan threw the cell door's key in Daryl's face so abruptly that he didn't have a chance to reach up and block the small metallic object from hitting his cheek before bouncing off onto the floor beside him. "Lock yourself in from now on, you dumb fuck. The only one keeping you prisoner here is you."
Negan slammed the door shut, leaving Daryl alone in the dark with nothing but his thoughts and the sense-memory of Beth's hair tangled around his fingers and her lingering scent tickling his nose. Negan's right, Daryl decided, not that he could do anything about it now. Anyone else would have known how to use that meeting to their advantage, gotten out of this hole and into a position where they could actually do some good. He'd blown it and somehow managed to upset his unlabeled whatever-it-is with Beth in the process. He really was an asshole.
Song Credits: "They Weren't There" by Missy Higgins, 2004; and "Problem Girl" by Rob Thomas, 2005.
Thanks so much for sticking with me and my slow updates! Reviews, questions, concerns, they're all greatly appreciated!
