Her memories were all broken, like that time she'd thrown a book across the room in frustration and it had smashed into the mirror about her dresser and shattered it into pieces, and when she'd gotten up and looked down at the glass all over the floor, her face had looked all disjointed, flashing back at her from individual shards.
It was kinda like that. Fractured. She could recall Dawn coming in and ordering her to get dressed and ready to go. Some people had come to trade for her and Carol, she'd said. Her mind should have thought of Rick, or Maggie, or Michonne, but the first thing that had popped into her mind had been Daryl. It had to be him. Maybe the rest of them, too. Maybe he'd found them. But the thing was, even without knowing what had actually happened, she just knew it had been him. She'd known when she'd seen Carol get wheeled in that Daryl was close by. She'd felt it.
That same feeling tied Beth to the flash of memory that had her standing in that hallway with her hands curled around Carol's wheelchair. She could see the group at the end of the hallway and her hands had trembled a little before she'd tightened them. She couldn't be weak now, not after all this. She had to be strong, and she knew she could. Hadn't she been so strong all this time? She'd looked down the long hallway and she'd seen him; his hair longer and his grip on his bow firm and his eyes dark and meeting hers just as she found his. She heard his voice in her mind the way she had ever day for the last couple weeks. Be strong, girl. Almost done, now.
But it wasn't almost done. It should have been. It should have been done in the glass-sharp fragment of memory where she felt Daryl's hand slide across her back and start to guide her away but then Dawn had to go and be, well... Dawn. And everything got all disjointed again, but Beth remembered being so angry, just full of white hot rage, so different from the cool focus she'd had all this time trying to make her escape. She hadn't thought, she'd just acted. She'd pulled those scissors from inside her cast and stabbed Dawn with them, and then after that, everything was a haze.
The haze was a cloudy fog in her mind, cold but not entirely unpleasant. Kinda like being asleep, only she couldn't wake up at first. Some things got through, though. A buzzing by her head. A few flashes of pain. Voice somewhere around her. Crying in the distance. Through it all, there was reassuring warmth that brought a single flash of memory into the haze, of her fingers sliding into Daryl's hand and feeling his own fingers curve around hers in return.
At one point, she remembered hearing a certain voice in the fog. Low and gruff and rough, but thick with emotion. The fog was too thick for her to break through it just yet, weighing down her eyes and making them too heavy to open, but she heard the words nonetheless. Ain't nobody I know as strong as y'are. She heard it, heard him, and Beth remembered the slide of fingers against her own and very gently curled her fingers with the memory, and for just a second she felt his fingers squeezing hers back again.
Though it took her some time, she eventually found her way out of the fog. His voice and his words and that warmth in her fingers were like an anchor, guiding her out of the cloudy haze and into a world that was brighter against her eyelids. The first thing she really noticed besides that brightness was the smell. Not the lingering antiseptic smell of the hospital, that ugly smell that would always remind her of death and lollipops and hands sliding up beneath her shirt. No, she didn't smell that. She smelled... Leather. Old leather, and dirt, and a hint of cigarette smoke and something else all mixed into it. Something kinda spicy, something kinda masculine, something kinda... Daryl. Then she let her eyes flutter open and there he was, and Beth realized that the warmth she'd felt all this time had been him, holding her hand, and the thought occurred to her that she had never seen anything more perfect than the way he was looking at her right now as he still held her hand tightly.
He didn't let go, either. Not when Dr. Edwards interrupted them by coming in and seeing her awake. Not when he started to bustle around her busily working, or when one of the nurses (Abigail, who Beth had always kinda liked, more than the cops anyway) came in to join him and they were both checking her vitals and fiddling with her bandages. She only half heard was Dr. Edwards was saying to her, going on about close calls and needing rest and not trying to move too fast or do anything strenuous at all. It was like only every third or fourth word penetrated, partially because she was still in a fog, and partially because she kept looking at him and seeing him just looking back at her. Steady like a rock, and never once letting go of her hand. And god was she grateful for it when the group realized she was awake and began to check on her.
They were all crowding around her and her head hurt and she felt dizzy, and they were asking too many questions all at once and Maggie was crying all over her and she heard one of them say something about Daryl; Daryl tracking her, Daryl finding her, Daryl bringing them here. It was just too much. She felt her chest get all tight and her breathing get all short and then Beth felt a gentle squeeze to his hand. That was all it took. She looked over at him, knowing her eyes were all wide with panic, and Daryl met her eyes for one moment and then acted.
"Get out." His gruff voice caught everyone by surprise as he ordered them out of the room. "Out. Now." They looked stunned, the lot of them, possibly because he was being so forceful and not even explaining why, but possibly because he was still holding tight to her hand. Maggie seemed like she wanted to fight, wanted to argue, but then she looked at Beth and Beth managed to just shake her head, and her sister deflated in on herself. A couple months ago, Beth would have caved at that sight. She would have apologized, even though she'd done nothing wrong. But she didn't, not this time, and though Maggie's face looked hurt as she left the room, Beth set that against the faint hint of pride on Daryl's face when she glanced at him, and she realized that what she'd done was okay.
Then they were alone again, and it was quiet. But that was okay, because quiet was what she needed. Quiet, and the warmth of his hand holding hers. For a long moment she just lay there looking up at him, drinking in the sight of him watching her back so quiet and still. "Thank you," she said after a moment.
"Weren't nothin'," he said gruffly, and she saw his adams apple bob in his throat. "You looked..."
"Overwhelmed?"
"Like y' needed some space."
Beth nodded. "From them," she said softly. She said nothing about needing space from him, and knew that was right when she felt his fingers faintly curl around hers. Quiet reigned for a few moments, until Beth spoke without thinking, "Did you really never give up looking for me?"
"Never."
He was a man of few words, and Beth would have been content with just that. She was content, for the few moments it lasted. But then she felt his thumb brush lightly over the back of her hand, and was surprised to hear him go on, "Ran after y' fer miles an' miles, that night they took y'. Ran till th' sun was up an' I couldn't run no more. Then things changed. Found some people, found the group. Shit went bad again, an' we got out. But I ain't never stopped lookin'. Knew y' were out there. Knew you'd survive, yer real good at that." She looked up at his eyes held his for a moment, and she saw that hint of pride in them again before he continued honestly, "Never gave up on y'. Even when they all wanted to go on to D.C., didn't feel right. Then I saw th' car, th' one with th' cross on th' one like th' one that had takin' you, and..."
"And you ran, again?" Her voice was almost a whisper as she looked up at him, stunned not only by how much he was saying (Daryl Dixon, he of the grunts and silent stares), but what he was saying, too. The mental image of Daryl Dixon running after her car like he was being chased by hell itself (or maybe, all things considered, running right towards hell itself in a desperate attempt to save her from it) was something Beth would never forget.
He flashed her what counted in her mind as a grin from Daryl Dixon, just a little twitch of the corner of his lips. "Well, I grabbed a car, but yeah. Guess I ran. Carol was with me when I saw it. Figured out y' were here, found yer friend, Noah. An' when Carol got taken, I got th' rest of th' group to come an' help me rescue y'. Both of y'."
For a moment or two, she just watched him, questions bubbling to her mind. She wanted to ignore them, wanted to stuff down the pain that was gonna come with them, but she couldn't seem to do it. She had to know. "D.C.?"
He nodded.
"All... All of them wanted to go?" Another nod. She licked her lips and spoke one more time, a soft break in her voice as she asked, "Maggie?"
Beth saw him hesitating, saw a hint of anger flash through his eyes unexpectedly, and she knew without him even needing to answer, but after a moment he nodded for her anyway, and she just breathed out, "Oh."
They were silent again for a few long minutes as she churned those thoughts over in her mind. Beth felt them doing something, taking root maybe, waiting for her to have the chance to grow them and think about them more. But she wasn't ready to, not yet, so Beth turned a little onto her side to look at him, ignoring the way he started to reach with his free hand to stop her from moving too much. "M'alright, Daryl." She had meant both physically and mentally, even if both were probably a lie. He looked to her bandage and didn't say a word, but for a moment she saw that fear in his eyes and she wondered what it had looked like to him, watching her get shot. Had he really thought she was dead, in that moment? Had they all?
Her fingers tightened a little around his. "I'm sorry."
His brow furrowed as he looked down at her. "Ain't got nothin' to apologize for."
Beth shook her head. "I shouldn't have done that. Shouldn't have stabbed her. She could have killed me, and after you tried so hard to find me. It was stupid..."
"Maybe a bit stupid." There was a wry twist to his lips that caught Beth off-guard, and she felt a brief flutter somewhere deep inside before he got serious again. "But I don't reckon y' were thinkin' much, when y' did it."
Beth drew in a deep breath that rattled in her chest. "I was thinkin', but not about the right things. Shoulda been thinkin' about you standing there, ready to lead me out. But all I could think about was her and this place. The things she let happen, the things she let them do. I was thinkin' about how she always tried to act so noble and how it was all bullshit. And I was thinkin'... I was thinkin' about she told me before that Noah would come back, that people always come back, and I just couldn't, I just couldn't let her drag him back to this horrible, awful place, and then I couldn't think anymore, Daryl, and I'm sorry, and- and-"
And she wasn't crying, because she didn't cry anymore, right? But her whole body was shaking and trembling and she was gasping for breath and then she felt him let go of her hand for the first time, only to slide both of his arms around her and drag her tight to his chest. He didn't say much. He never did, but right now she didn't need him to. She just needed to be tight in his arms, safe with his warmth so close, feeling her breathing slow as he whispered, "Shhh... Shhh, s'okay. S'okay now, Beth. S'okay..."
After, when Beth could breathe again, she curled her fingers back through his and settled back onto the bed. As exhaustion began to climb over her once more, she squeezed his hand gently and whispered, "Don't let go, okay?"
Through the warm fog of sleep slowly stealing over her, she heard his words dropping warm and solid into her mind. "Ain't never gonna leave y' again, girl."
And she fell asleep with a faint smile on her lips, feeling safer than she had in a long time.
...
Later she woke up, and his hand was still in hers but he'd fallen asleep in the chair next to the bed. His arm was stretched out to hold her hand, and his head had tipped to rest on his shoulder as if he'd fallen asleep just looking at her.
Beth smiled and stroked her finger over the back of his hand, and this time he wasn't awake to stop her from slowly rolling onto her side and curling around their embraced hands, as close as she could get without him being in the bed with her.
It was far from the worst thought ever, and it lingered in her mind even as she drifted back to sleep again.
...
When she woke up the next morning, his eyes were on her and she could see relief in them again. Relief, and something else. Something warm that made her feel a bit dizzy for a moment, even as a sleepy smile curved up her lips and she murmured, "Morning."
"Mornin'," he said in that same, slightly gruff voice. "Doctor was in here a little while ago. Should tell 'em you're awake."
Beth hummed and gently curled her fingers tighter in his. "Not just yet, okay? Just... Need a little bit more."
He nodded, and that was it. She knew he'd never push her, not like this anyway. Especially not like this. It was a good five minutes of them just staying there like that, her curled up on her side and his hand still laced in hers and her eyes straying up to just watch him watching her. When she spoke again it was without thinking, and her voice was still slightly rough with sleep. "When you all came here... Was it for me? Or was it for Carol?"
It was another thing she shouldn't have asked. But she needed to know, and she knew Daryl wouldn't lie. He was unfailingly honest, sometimes even painfully so, but right now she needed that.
The question seemed to bother him though, and it took him a moment to answer. When he did, he leaned in a bit and squeezed her hand. "I came t' rescue th' both of y', okay?"
It wasn't what she'd asked, but it sort of was, at the same time. "Daryl..." She trailed off, seeing something in his eyes that made her realize that she didn't need him to say it out loud. She could read it in the look in his eyes, all simmering anger and a hint of anguish deep down inside, for her. She'd known it already, anyway. The group had given up on her from the moment they'd lost the prison. She was just a nothing little girl, someone none of them expected to survive. That she had was something that they probably attributed to a miracle, and probably to Daryl's determination to find her. They never would have expected her to save herself.
"It don't matter," he said gruffly, as if he could read her thoughts. Maybe he could; Beth had always had an expressive face.
"It does..." She started, her voice catching.
"No." He was rough, but quiet at the same time. "Yer alive. That's what matters." He paused for a moment as he swallowed hard, and his voice was softer as he added, "An' I know yer alive cause y' fought to stay that way. All by yerself."
It still hurt, knowing they'd given up on her. Knowing they'd come here for Carol, and she was just an extra bonus. But when he spoke, Beth found it hard to be as upset as she knew she was deep inside. At least he believed in her. If she had to have one person believe in her, it meant a lot to have that person be Daryl Dixon.
So she squeezed his hand tightly, and she still didn't let go. Not even when he called out for Doctor Edwards to come back in and examine her, and especially not when the group began to trickle in as well. In the hours that followed, every time it got too much or she felt the pain well up inside of her or her breathing get all short, she would feel his hand gently squeezing hers and she looked at him... and she just knew that at least she wasn't alone in this.
She had Daryl, and he wasn't gonna leave her.