***WARNINGS: Mentions of Beth's past assault, as well as hints at some of the other things the cops have done to other women. Nothing too detailed.
Her hands couldn't seem to keep still. They busily made up her bed, smoothing over her pillow for the last time, tucking in her sheets. It was probably silly since she was never going to sleep in this bed again, but it was habit. Unfortunately, habit meant it didn't take very long to finish, and her hands kept itching for more. She neatened up the room, straightened her clothes, even took the time to brush her hair back into a ponytail (flinching at the feeling of the small bandage under her fingers) and tie it back.
Beth didn't know what else to do. She stood by the side of her bed looking down at the smooth sheets and wondering if this was really happening. If she was really, finally leaving. How many weeks had she been trapped in this place? If she took the time to think about it, she could probably say exactly how many, because it felt like each and every day was seared into her brain. The first day when Gorman had found her in the cafeteria (when someone does you a favor, it's a courtesy to show some appreciation) and Dawn had slapped her for no reason (try to grasp the stakes here). The day one of the cops had grabbed her wrist hard and slammed her into the wall because she didn't move quickly enough out of his way. (next time you wanna walk so slow in front of me, at least move those hips for me, bitch) The day she'd held down a woman while they cut off her limb (keep your hands off me! i'm not going back to him!). The day she saw one of those cops leaving a room and looked in to find Ivy laying on the bed, crying, with bruises on her wrist (it's okay, he said if i was good to him once, he wouldn't do it again). The day Dawn had found those cuts on her wrist and told her how worthless she was (out there you are nothing, except dead or someone's burden.) The day she'd killed Gorman and failed to escape (you're not a fighter.), the day Dawn had slapped her, again (no one's coming!), the day they'd tried to kill Carol (you just killed that woman), the day she'd helped Dawn kill O'Donnel (stay in your lane, bitch!), the day she'd almost given up her own life to save Noah's (they always come back).
Every single day was so clear in her mind, seared into her brain like the brands Daddy had sealed onto the rumps of their cattle back on the farm. It didn't help that they all seemed to flare to life at night, burning her, making their way into her dreams and reminding her again and again of what she'd faced here every day. Sometimes, the past would mingle with the present, too. Beth would dream of going into that man's room and giving him medicine and watching him seize up and die, only to look down and see her Daddy reaching up for her, his throat slit, a smile on his lips. She'd dream of being outside, sunlight on her face and the pavement pounding beneath her feet, almost escaping, only to watch as one of them shot and killed Noah before dragging her to the ground. She dreamed of the hallway and the elevator shaft, of watching Dawn struggling with her fellow officer and then begging for help, of turning and shoving down the elevator shaft, only to look up and see that it was Daryl and he was reaching for her as he fell to his death.
Every night she woke up shuddering, but every night she also woke up to Daryl squeezing her hand, leaning over her, whispering in that rough low voice that it was okay, it was just a dream. Each night he started out next to her in the chair, but he always ended up in the bed with her. Usually beside her, letting her sleep curled up against him and pressed to his chest. She never had nightmares after that. Maybe she got it out of her system in the beginning of the night, but Beth had a feeling it was because she felt so safe in his arms and tucked against his chest, breathing in that scent of leather and dirt and cigarettes, knowing nothing could get to her. She wanted to spend every night like that in his arms, keeping it all away from the both of them.
But they couldn't, and Beth was afraid. She wanted to get out of this hospital so badly, wanted to get away from it's clean white walls that somehow felt more like a prison than the actual prison they'd stayed at ever had. She wanted to get away from the memories that haunted her, or at least the constant reminders of them. She wanted to get away from the cops. But she didn't want this thing with Daryl, whatever it was, to change. He was always at her side, almost always there to hold her hand when she needed it. He held her when she had nightmares, he had her back when she stood up for herself... And then there was the way that he looked at her. Those dark blue eyes would hold hers like they had that night in the funeral home, but a hundred times more intense, just like the rush of feelings that swamped her and swirled through her body and everything feel all... fluttery. God, she didn't want to lose that, not without even knowing what it all meant, but she was so afraid that as soon as they were out of here it would all change. Wouldn't it have to?
"Hey." Daryl's voice came from behind her, soft and measured, just one word but enough to make her smile. She turned her head slightly, just enough to see him coming out of the bathroom and running his fingers through his same wet hair that she'd trimmed so carefully the other night. (Even thinking about that conjured up the memory of his face so close to hers, the way this burning hot look would flash briefly through his eyes each time her fingers grazed his skin.)
"Hey..." Her tone was warm but softer than usual, with a hint of the anxiety she felt. That worry was still inside of her, like some dark cloud that had grown claws and decided to sink them into her stomach and heart and curl up tight there to make it's home. Beth hadn't even realized that she was standing there twisting her fingers back and forth around her wrist until Daryl came up beside her and slid his hand down her arm. His fingers nudged hers away, and when she felt the rough pads of them graze over the scars there, Beth gave a little shudder.
His voice was soft, but it cut through her thoughts. "Y' don't have yer bracelets."
Beth looked up at him, surprise widening her eyes. She hadn't thought he'd ever noticed them before, but of course that was stupid. Daryl noticed everything, and that extended far beyond the tracks and signs that deer and walkers left in the woods. Of course he'd noticed the bracelets she'd worn on her wrists every day since the farm. She had no doubt he knew exactly what they had been for, too, that they'd covered up the scars she'd left behind on her own skin in that mistaken attempt to end her own life.
"They took them," Beth murmured softly as she looked up and held his gaze. "I... I don't know where they are. I think maybe they threw them out."
He was quiet, just brushing his fingers over the soft ridges of her scar in a way that made her breath hitch a bit in her throat. Beth couldn't look away from him and the complete concentration on his face as he looked down at her wrist and hand. Every day in this place alone she had thought about him, and sometimes it was still hard to believe he was here, that she wasn't imagining him. That he was real.
(She thought she dimly recalled asking him that one night, if he was real. She'd woken up mid-nightmare to his arms curling around her as he drew her to his chest to keep her warm and safe, and the question had spilled from her lips in a hazy murmur: "Are you real?" His low chuckle flitted through her mind even as she recalled it now, but she was pretty sure she also remembered him resting his cheek against her hair and murmuring back in a voice that matched her own, "Are you?")
"I'll find y' new ones."
His quiet words had looking up at him, her brow faintly furrowed. "You don't have to..."
Daryl looked up and caught her eyes, holding them long enough for that little flush of heat to curl into her belly. "I'll find y' new ones," he said again, firmly this time.
A smile tugged at her lips, impossible to resist. "Thank you." Her hand turned in his so she could graze her fingers against his palm, and they stood there for just a moment in comfortable silence before he eventually sighed and stepped back. Beth felt a pang at the thought that he was pulling away, that there might not be any more moments like this when it was just the two of them alone in her room and comforting each other.
"Got something for ya." He spoke gruffly, but she could read his voice well enough now to hear the hints of deeper emotion in his speech as he stuck his hand into his pocket. There was a shyness in his eyes, too, and the way he scuffed his feet on the ground. Whatever it was, he was unsure about what her reaction might be, maybe even hopeful, and that made Beth's lips curve up in a reassuring smile as she joked, "Well don't tease me, Daryl. What is it?"
His lips quirked up as he offered her his present, and it only took Beth a moment to realize what it was. Her knife. The one he'd helped her find and showed her how to use, when it had been just the two of them on the run together. "Daryl..." She reached out and ran her fingers over the bone handle, brushing her fingers against his in the process and sending a little flush of heat skittering through her hand and right up her arm. "How?"
Of course he shrugged like it was nothing, even though it wasn't, not to either of them. "Got Rick t' get it. Would have asked about th' bracelets, if I knew."
"That's okay," she said softly, "This is better."
Daryl looked like he wanted to smile, only then their eyes met and held and whatever he felt right then had his eyes going a little darker as he swallowed hard and closed the gap between them. "Here." She felt acutely aware of his body so close to hers as he reached down between them to grip the knife. She wasn't even sure what he was doing until he dug the knife into the bottom of the shirt and ripped it with a drag of the blade.
"Daryl!"
Without stopping, he tore off a strip of fabric and clutched it in his hand. "Shush. Here," he said lowly, reaching between them to slide her knife carefully into the front pocket of her jeans. "Y' keep that close, till we can find y' a sheath for it, yeah?" Beth nodded, cause she wasn't sure she could get out words when he was standing so damn close to her, his presence all around her and the only thing she could feel. If it had been anyone else she would have been panicking to get away, but when it was Daryl, all she seemed to want was for him to stay right there, nice and close.
As she watched him, mesmerized, he reached down and picked up her wrist, cradling it in those rough, worn hands that somehow always managed to be so gentle with her. They were so gentle right now as he cupped her hand and turned it over, one thumb brushing lightly over her scars. She was too fascinated to ask him what he was doing. Beth just watched as he took that strip of fabric and tied it gently around her wrist with a solid knot before turning it around so the strip of fabric pressed over her scar.
A bracelet. He'd cut his own shirt, just to make her a bracelet so her wrist wouldn't have to be empty and exposed.
"There." He looked up at her, thumb brushing over the fabric, and Beth was pretty sure that for the moment she forgot how to breathe. "Better?"
Again, all she could do was nod and swallow that thick feeling building up in her throat. She could barely find words. Yet everyone thought he was the silent one of the pair? The thought made her chuckle inside, and a smile tugged at her lips as she managed to respond finally, "Yes. It's perfect. Thank you, Daryl. For... Everything."
"Ain't nothin'." It was his constant refrain, but another thing that Beth had long come to accept as being Daryl-speak for 'you're welcome, don't mention it again'. After everything he'd done for her, Beth could give him that without a doubt.
"C'mon," he said after one last brush of his finger over the strip of fabric that now decorated her wrist. "Time to get out of here."
Beth couldn't even bring herself to be anxious about it when he had that look in his eyes, like all he wanted was to get her away from here and safe. She didn't even realize the same look was mirrored in her own.
...
The plan seemed to go off without a hitch at first. Rick had secured only a few supplies for them, trading a half day of some manual labor to get a small amount of food as well as antibiotics for Beth and pain meds for Eugene. It wasn't much, but it was what they needed most, and they could find the rest once they got out of the city. They'd survived by scavenging before, and they could do that again. Beth believed more than she ever had before that they could get, they could survive, they could find away. She remembered the terror of being pulled from the farm she'd grown up on, the fright of fleeing the falling prison... She felt none of that, now. They would find a way, the way they always did. The way she and Daryl had, on their own in the woods.
He was standing tall at her side (always at her side) as they gathered outside the hospital, their group collecting around them. Rick, Carl, Michonne were checking each other's weapons, Tyreese was holding Judith as he spoke with Carol, Sasha was helping Noah to test his ankle as he walked, Eugene was leaning up against the wall and fussing with his bandages as Abraham and Rosita stood on either side of him, Father Gabriel was keeping to himself, and Maggie, Glenn, and Tara forming a little trio just in the corner of Beth's eyes.
(She did her best not to look at them, standing there. Not just because Maggie kept giving her this hurt-puppy expression, as if she was the one who had any right to be upset with their relationship right now, but also because of how Tara was with them. How she fit right in as their third, slotting into the same spot that Beth had once held. It stung, though she wasn't willing to admit that to anyone except Daryl, and even then in just the look in her eyes when she glanced away from them to him.)
And their group had grown. At Beth's insistence Rick had asked once more if anyone wanted to come, this time pointedly to the captive 'patients' of the hospital and not just the cops. In the end just three had chosen to come with them, but it was better than nothing. Beth couldn't speak to why the others had stayed, although she knew that some people were treated better than others here, that some thought they were safer too, with the walkers kept at bay. Sometimes the evil you knew was better than the unknown. Her Daddy had told her that, once. (Better the devil you know than the devil you don't, Bethy.)
Rick had sat each one of them done and looked measuringly into their eyes as he asked them the three questions that assured them entry into the group. The first to request to join them had been Henry (or Hank, as he liked to be called), the older man who had helped Beth to steal the medicine she needed for Carol. Beth was glad. He had been one of the few bright spots for her in the hospital. A few times they got put on kitchen duty together and he would hum songs to make her smile and once, when she joined in with him softly under her breath (she didn't sing much anymore) he told that she reminded him of his daughter. Given that his white beard and hearty laugh always caused pangs in the empty part of her left behind by her father's death, that had only cemented their new friendship and her affection for him. There was no way she would let him stay here, where the cops seemed to take particular fun in pushing him around. If anyone questioned his age, or his resemblance to her lost father, they didn't do it out loud. Beth would have given them her best Daryl Dixon glare, if they had.
The other two were both women, who Beth knew had been under the eyes of certain cops. Ivy, an overly thin woman with long brown hair and haunted eyes, was just a few years older than Beth herself, and had been one of the first people she'd seen in the hospital besides those considered 'staff'. After remembering Ivy shivering and alone in bed with bruises on her wrists and that haunted look in her eyes, Beth hadn't hesitated to convince her to come with them. It made her feel better now, seeing Ivy standing against Hank's side, even managing a faint smile when the older man whispered something funny in her ear. Lynn stood to their left, slightly off to the side and distant as she tended to be. She was older, maybe somewhere about 5 years younger than Carol (it was so hard to tell these days), with short red curls that had gone grey and a slim, small body. Beth had been surprised to see her volunteering to come. Lynn had always kept to herself and had never really spoken to Beth, but she knew the woman had suffered here like they all did. She'd seen the relief in Lynn's eyes when they'd found out that Gorman was dead. Beth understood that feeling well.
They moved as soon as Rick said it was time; the formation they fell into almost automatic by now. Rick took the lead with his pistol in hand and Carl at his back. Michonne was off to the side, her hand on the hilt of her katana and ready for any sign of trouble. Glenn and Maggie took up position the back, side by side and both with weapons in their hands, while Tyreese and Judith stuck to the center along with Father Gabriel, Eugene (propped up by Tara), Noah (carrying a gun, though in the center because of his limp) and their newest additions. Carol, though still weak, joined them with a gun in her hands as well, having refused to just be coddled in any way. Sasha, Abraham, and Rosita both had weapons, too, but they stayed moving around the perimeter of the group's circle as they moved away from the hospital.
To be honest, Beth had half expected them to push her into the center with the others, and so it hadn't really caught her off guard when Rick stepped back and nodded for her to do just that. "Don't worry," he said, catching her fleeting glance back up at the hospital and misunderstanding, "We'll keep you safe."
She opened her mouth to protest, the heated assertion that she could take care of herself about to spring to her lips. Only before she could, Daryl shook his head. "She stays with me," he said lowly, and any question that he was just saying it because he wanted to protect her himself was dashed when he reached towards the small of his back and pulled out a pistol to hand to her. "Beth can handle it." Without giving Rick any time to protest, he guided her slightly to the place (at the front and a little to the side) where he usually took his position. "Come on, girl."
The hospital at her back had Beth all on edge, with that feeling like someone was watching them, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Yet she still managed a smile when Daryl handed her that gun and it settled easily into her hand. He was holding his crossbow loaded, though he had a rifle slung over his back as well, right between those angel wings, and another knife in a sheath on his hip. She knew he had to be just on edge as she was, and yet she appreciated so much that his instinct had been to arm her rather than push her into a circle where he could protect her.
"Thanks," she breathed out softly, giving a quick glance up at him before looking away.
"Ain't nothin'," he said, same as always. This time though, he added after a moment, "Noah told me how good y' are, with a pistol. Told me how y' helped him get out, took down somethin' like ten walkers."
"Yeah, well..." She was flushed with pride in herself, and pleasure at his pride, but she wasn't the type to brag. "I had good teachers." The words were simple, but conjured up so many images. Rick, teaching her to use a gun for the first time back on the farm. Daryl, in the woods, teaching her that and so much more. How to aim, how to track, how to use a knife, how to fire his crossbow. (How to keep going, even when it felt like the world wanted you to give up.) It had been his training with a crossbow that had helped her get better at aiming the gun, and she was more than grateful for that. Grateful enough that she couldn't resist a gentle squeeze to his arm in thanks again.
None of them needed distracting though, and Beth wasn't gonna be the one to mess with that by pulling his focus to her. She settled right at his side, gun in hand as the group made their way out of the hospital grounds and onto the dangerous streets. The plan had been to head back to the warehouse they'd been holed up in, grab their cars, and get onto the road to get as far from Atlanta as they could before stopping for the night. Being in the city was dangerous, even without a hospital full of potentially angry cops at your back.
Beth knew she wasn't the only one who had expected more of a fight in them trying to get away from the hospital, but to her surprise most of the cops had seemed relieved to see them go. It was as if they'd been just as on edge waiting for something to snap and a fight to break out, or maybe waiting for them to try and take the place over themselves. Even knowing that, even seeing their relief, she had felt amazed at how easily they'd left the building, how easily they'd managed to get back into the streets and start putting distance between them and the building she never wanted to go back to. Beth still couldn't breathe easy, didn't think she'd be able to until they were well out of the city, but she couldn't deny the faint twinge of relief inside of her as a hint of tension eased from her tightened shoulders.
Unfortunately, she'd let her tension ease too soon. That respite only lasted until they turned the corner about halfway between the hospital and the warehouse and found the road blocked off by two police cars and one cross-marked black car. Ranged out behind the protection of the cars and their open doors were four cops, all with guns pointing right at them. Beth instantly noted their faces with a complete lack of surprise. Branson, Hicks, Lewis, and Kent. All of them men, All of them the same cops who had had their eyes on her, watching her in the hallways, whispering her name when she and Daryl walked by. All of them the same cops who had been so close to Gorman and O'Donnell, before she'd killed one and helped Dawn to kill the other.
"Stop right there," Branson said, aiming his pistol at them through the open car window where he crouched behing the door.
"Come on now," Rick replied in that slow voice, so far not giving the group the signal for them to lower their weapons. His head slowly tilted as he stared the man down. "We don't want any trouble."
"Neither do we," said Branson, his gun trained on Rick as the other three picked out targets in the group but held their ground. "We just think the rest of them were a bit too hasty to let you go, all things considered. See, we're big on people paying their debts, up at Grady, and it seems to us ya'll owe us quite a bit more than we got."
"We don't owe you shit," Daryl shot back, completely ignoring the way Rick waved a hand at him to stop. He was holding up the crossbow, aiming right at the leader, the muscles in his arm tight and defined with the strength it took to keep the bow level. Beth stood beside and slightly behind him, her gun raised and ready.
"Now we all know that isn't true. Seems to us ya'll owe us quite a bit. You got seven people in your group there who haven't paid their debts off yet, for the care they received, and that ain't even counting all the food ya'll ate while we kept you nice and safe and warm. And that's definitely not counting what little Bethy over there owes us, for Gorman." Branson's eyes flickered to her, but she refused to react, refuse to give any sign that his words had chilled her. "Never did believe that bullshit Dawn tried to feed us, about how he just happened to get caught by that little bitch of his when she turned. Not with you and your little friend making a run for it the same damn day."
His gun twitched faintly towards her and Beth saw Daryl tensing beside her. It seemed instinctive for him to want to step in front of her, and yet at the same time to trust her to keep herself safe. Despite the lines of his body being filled with tension, Daryl stayed still as Branson went on in that low voice, repeating words she'd heard so many times before by now, "You owe us."
Those three words settled over her, and for a moment she thought they might drag her down somewhere dark and scary, but instead they did the opposite. They woke her up. She felt so aware, of everything around her as her focus narrowed and everything she heard and saw and felt got so sharp and crisp. The four cops lined up in front of them, behind the barricade of the three cars. Three cars. Four cops. Beth's eyes narrowed as she scanned over them. Branson and Hicks were partners, so they'd come in one, which left Lewis and Kent. Would those two have come in separate cars, just to create more of a blockade? There was no need to, and besides... They weren't partners. Lewis was partnered with Evans, the one woman who was a part of that twisted group, and Kent was almost never without his buddy and partner Kanz. The two of them were always together, laughing at each other's disgusting remarks about every woman in the hospital.
The world seemed to slow down as she focused, as her brain whirred away. She remembered back to being in the forest, alone with Daryl. The way he'd crouched down and gestured to her to study the patterns in the leaves and dirt, the marks that just looked like nothing to her day after day, until suddenly she could see just what he'd been pointing out. The way he'd gone all still and told her to listen, helped her to pick out the sound of babbling water in the distance, the snap of a twig under a deer's hoof, the low groan of a walker nearby. How she'd learned to focus until everything around her went hushed and she could focus on each individual sound and tease them out like a stray thread out of fabric.
They weren't in the woods anymore, but she could hear just the same. To her right came the sharp, worried breathing of the group of former hospital captives at the center of their group. In front of her she could hear Daryl's slow, measured breathing, the faint crinkle of leather shifting as his shoulders bunched in anticipation. Almost distantly she heard Rick, arguing in that slow measured voice, trying to convince them to give up, and behind her... behind her... there. A faint scrape against pavement, the rustle of fabric, the press of a boot to concrete.
Beth noticed Daryl's head starting to turn but she was already spinning around, gun raised to freeze with it inches from Kanz's head. "I wouldn't, if I were you. In fact, I'd stop right there."
Kanz had his gun in his hands, but given that she had hers pointed right between his eyes, she was pretty sure she had the upper hand here. Especially when Daryl turned slowly behind her, bow in hand.
"Beth?" That wasn't worry in his voice, that was all trust. Measured and slow, asking her what she needed from him, instead of the other way around.
"There's another one missing, if my thinking is right. Lewis, the one up there on the far right, he's got a female partner, and she's got no problem with what they get up to. She ain't here, that I can see, but I bet she's close by." A flash of memory came into her mind, Dawn talking about putting Kanz on watch, up on the roof. "Maybe up high. I think they used her as a sniper, sometimes."
Beside her, Daryl began to scan the buildings with his crossbow lifted, as Beth kept her hand steady. She didn't dare look at the group behind her, didn't take her gaze away from Kanz for a second, not even as she heard Rick start to speak again, "Let's just work this out. You let us by, we'll give you back your friend here. Sound like a deal?"
"Not the kind of deal I'm looking for." The sound of the smile in Branson's voice very nearly made Beth shiver. "And I've still got the upper hand."
Beth wasn't sure if that was the signal, or if she'd missed something with her back turned, but as soon as the words fell from Branson's lips, she heard a whizzing whine, and a thunk, and a scream. "No!" Beth hadn't realized she'd shouted it until the word was spilling from her lips and she was turning her head away just in to see Lynn fall to the ground at the center of the group. Like an idea she looked away, even if only for a few seconds, but it was just enough to see the blood spilling from Lynn's head across the street, and it was just long enough for Kanz to make his move and grab for her gun.
Suddenly, it all seemed to go to hell. She vaguely heard the sound of Daryl's crossbow releasing a bolt, perhaps aiming up at the sniper who'd taken out Lynn. Around her there were screams, and then gunshots began to ring out, but all of that was a dim noise in the background. Kanz had his hand wrapped around hers over the gun, struggling to pull it from her. He used his strength and his grip to pull her close, to tug her body up against his and give himself the advantage. He had the size and strength and like this, he had her beat, because she knew that she couldn't take him up close chest to chest, couldn't win at wresting the gun away from him.
But she didn't have to, and Beth knew that. She remembered that one brief day of lessons with Daryl, when she'd asked him to tell her what a smaller person could do in a fight with a much bigger opponent. Especially one that underestimated them. Beth went unexpectedly limp, putting all her weight on the gun and forcing Kanz to readjust his balance and lean over to compensate. Just when she had him moving she shifted, finding her feet and lurching up, bringing her knee with her to slam it into his groin. Kanz dropped to his knees with a groan, and Beth didn't hesitate to tug the pistol away from him, turning it in her hands to slam it down butt first onto his head and knock him completely out. He wasn't dead... Or at least she didn't think he was. God knew she wasn't trying to kill him, no matter how bad he was. The last thing she wanted was another man's blood on her hands.
Shuddering and gasping for breath, she turned around to see Daryl, his crossbow raised as if he'd been planning to shoot Kanz to save her only to realize he didn't need to. For just one moment their eyes met in the chaos, and he nodded at her, slow and sure. "Good job." The moment held, the second feeling like ages, until his voice turned brisk again. "Come on, Greene. This situation ain't gonna turn around on it's own."
But their group had a better handle on it than the cops had probably expected. Abraham and Rosita had gotten their injured and unarmed members off to the side of the road to crouch behind an abandoned van on the right, leaving Lynn's body abandoned and exposed in the street. Tyreese had followed, his big body turned to shield Judith from the gunfire. Rick stood, gun raised, and as Beth watched he dropped Hicks with one shot, leaving only two cops standing.
Branson had ducked behind the cars and started scuttling to the left where Beth couldn't see him anymore, but Lewis rounded the other side to come face to face with Michonne, her blade raised. All it took was one kick to knock his gun away, and then Michonne's katana came down to slice across his neck, sending a spray of blood across the hood of the cop car even as his body fell to the ground in a slump.
"Where is he?" Beth breathed out, trying to remain calm as her gaze search methodically for the one cop that had disappeared. The last thing they needed was for him to go get reinforcements, or to come around and take them out from behind when they weren't paying attention anymore. She was determined to find him but this time, Daryl heard it before she did. He turned, crossbow loaded and raised, just in time to see Officer Branson rounded a car on their side and raising his gun to take aim at Beth.
"You're mine, you little b-"
Whatever he was gonna say next, it was cut off by the arrow Daryl sent right through his throat in a clean, smooth shot, sending the man right to the ground. Beth, shuddering, looked up to see Daryl's eyes meeting hers all steady and reassuring. With a surprisingly casual little shrug, he said, "Figured y' got the first one, I'd take care of th' second. Just keepin' it nice an' even."
Relief had her body trembling but she managed a slow nod back at him before Daryl turned to retrieve his bolt and discretely prevent the officer from rising again. Beth was just turning to check and make sure Kanz wasn't going to get up when something slammed into her front. Oh god oh god, he was up, he'd gotten up and now he was going to kill her! She barely bit back a scream as she shoved her hands out, frantic, clawing to get free until a voice began to penetrate, "Beth, Beth! Oh god, Bethy, are you okay?" Only then did she realize it was Maggie, clinging to her, holding her tight, crying out that damned nickname without even realizing that it made Beth feel sick.
All of it made Beth feel sick; not just what they'd done in defense of their lives, but also being trapped in Maggie's arms like this, held so tight she could feel the breath leaving her as her lungs fought to expand. "Beth, are you okay, did Daryl save you?"
Suddenly Beth had the strength to press her hands to Maggie's chest and shove her away, dragging in a frantic gasp of air to fill her lungs before she hissed, "Let me go, Maggie!"
She spun around to flee, only to come face to face with Daryl's chest. He was always right there when she needed him and god, did she need him right now. Beth's fingers curled into his shirt as she struggled to catch her breath, dragging it in and out and trying to match the rise and fall of his chest beneath her fingers. There was a roaring in her ears, but even through it she heard Daryl say lowly to her sister, "She saved herself."
In the silence that followed, Beth tipped her head back to look up at him, tired but so grateful. Their eyes met and held, and she felt everything around them slow once again, as if it was only them and the emotion in his eyes that was mirrored in hers as she curled her fingers into his shirt. Finally, she opened her mouth to say thank you, but before she could the silence around them was broken by a much more frightening sound. Low sick groans echoed down the streets and getting closer by the moment, raised in chorus and accented by the shuffling of dragged feet on concrete.Walkers. A lot of them, by the sound of it. Cities like Atlanta were dangerous to begin with; they all knew that a gunfight was pretty much akin to standing in the middle of the road and shouting 'hey walkers, come get me!'.
"We gotta go," Rick said as he stood up from checking the body of poor Lynn. "We gotta go now."
So they ran again, even though it tore at Beth's heart to leave Lynn behind in the middle of the road, her blood staining the street so close to the hospital she'd been desperate to escape. Beth ran with all of them, clutching her gun close, still panting to catch her breath as they fled the horde of walkers that threatened to catch them.
But she also ran with Daryl at her side, his hand raised to squeeze her arm and help to keep her going, and despite what had just happened and what was threatening to overtake them again, Beth knew that he'd keep her safe.
No. They'd keep each other safe.
***NOTES: I know a lot of you seem to love the private moments between the two of them most, so I hope the one at the beginning of this chapter was enough to tide you over. We needed this action to keep things moving, and plus the other point of this fic for me (besides giving Bethyl the story they deserve) is to give BETH the chance she deserves to shine. I hope she shined for you in this scene, like the bamf she is!
(Oh and credit to sheriffandsteel on tumblr, both for the idea about Beth reminding Hank of his daughter, and also helping me decide for sure that some of the 'patients' would totally have come with them, cause Coda was totally unrealistic about that. She suggested "Ivy", aka the girl we see in that one scene, too.)