Beth was waiting for so long.

Waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for her happy ending to come crashing down around her ears. But it just didn't. The fun times kept coming, the smiles and the laughs. The happiness; the mind blowing sex. She kept waiting for it to vanish in a puff of smoke; for someone to finally punch her ticket but it never came.

Until it did.

It was just a run. Just one run out of the millions they've done since the world ended. Just one run that changed it all. They were trapped in a pharmacy, trying to loot the remaining drugs in the back when part of the ceiling caved in and a shit load of walkers fell down amongst the rubble and dust. She knew Daryl got hurt, she heard him shout out but there was no time to check so they ran. Ran and ran all the way back until they were clear. When he wrapped his wrist up and told her it was sliced by the smashed window they flung themselves out of she believed him.

Because she was covered in little cuts too, glass shards glittering in her palms and fingertips until she picked them all out. She believed him until they got home and he unwound the bandage. Then the world stopped turning and here they are, living a nightmare. The bite is torn and bloody, strips of skin hanging grotesquely from the bone. Beth wants to scream, feels like she should be screaming but if she screams it's real. If she screams then she's allowing the knowledge inside her, allowing it to take root and become reality.

The tears spill down her cheeks even when she doesn't scream and her mouth moves even when she doesn't want it to. "Please, Daryl. Please tell me you didn't keep this from me! After e-" her voice breaks and she has to struggle through the rest of it. "Everythin' we been through, all we lost, tell me you didn't give yourself a death sentence! That you didn't hide this on purpose!"

His face is anguished and for the first time ever he whispers, "I love you."

A sharp hiss of air rattles between her teeth and the tears are coming thick and fast, the world in slow motion but her heart is pounding. "Don't you say that! You don't get to say that! Not now!" She screams at him, her face a mess of tears and snot, her heart shattering in her chest. "Don't you dare!"

"Beth," he whispers softly and she hates how sick he sounds already, like she can hear it now she knows.

So close to death and she's just letting it happen. She shrieks at him and whirls away, her world crumbling to ruins and making her sick with the thought. This can't happen, it just can't.

"C'mere," he whispers behind her, wrapping his arms around her body.

When she looks down and sees the bandages wound around his wrist it sparks a new fury in her gut. All she has is anger right now, it's all she can focus on because accepting what's about to happen makes her want to claw her own face off and let her blood spill. The agony beating at her heart is too much to bear and she spins back around, pounding her fists against his chest.

"It ain't fair! None of this is fair! An' it's your stupid fuckin' fault! You should'a told me! I would'a cut it off myself! You should have told me!" Her last couple of words are a hollow, broken sound and she collapses to the floor in front of him, holding his thighs as she sobs her anguish.

"Beth," he mumbles again as he slowly lowers himself to the floor with her. "You think I'd survive with one arm? You think I could hunt or use t'bow or keep you safe with one arm?"

She almost doesn't want to look at him because she's so angry at him but the part of her that doesn't want to admit what's happening knows she's on a timer. Knows how little time she truly has left with him walking and talking and breathing.

So she does look up at him through blurry, swollen eyes and with a trembling lip whispers, "what 'bout now? How'm I gonna be safe with you dead?"

Another sob spills out of her and she can't stop because it hurts, it hurts so bad. The sobs spiral into screams, her breath heaving in something close to a panic attack and it actually feels worse when Daryl wraps his arms around her and rocks them together, curled up on the floor. After a while she's out of sounds but not tears. They drip steadily down her face as she presses it into his shoulder. Beth can't stop sniffing him, touching him, pressing her body along his and trying to pull him deeper into her skin, to absorb him so he never has to leave.

When they pull away her face feels swollen and her eyes raw. All she wants is sleep and to wake up tomorrow finding this was all a bad dream. Daryl lifts his hand, presses it to her cheek, sweeping his thumb over her tears and she knows that can't happen. Not when that bite is hidden under the bloody and pus soaked linen. Her chin wobbles again and his eyes burn bright with tears he's not shedding. She hates him and she loves him all at once. She can't believe he's done this to her, that he's leaving her and yet she understands too. Who is Daryl if he can't provide? Who is he if can't hold that bow?

She may be losing him physically but if they had taken his arm off today she would have lost him mentally, emotionally and maybe it would have come to this in the end anyway. Maybe a few months down the line he wouldn't be able to take it anymore and they'd be sitting here, saying their goodbyes because he wanted to opt out. It doesn't matter anyway. She doesn't get maybes, she only gets now. Beth's lower lip still wobbles as she presses her mouth to his, kissing him and sobbing into his mouth all at once. His free hand, the one not marked with a deadly bite rises to her head and cups it, kissing her deeper, saying goodbye.

It's stupid and it's pathetic but she needs him right now, even on death's door, because he's on death's door and he's not stopping her. He doesn't stop her when she pushes his vest off, doesn't stop her when she removes her own clothes, when she brings him down on top of her. He doesn't make a word of complaint, not even a word of pleasure when he's inside her because this isn't about that. This is about being close, about taking control of what's left, about holding on while they can.

"I love you," she sobs into his throat.

He squeezes her tighter in response. The only time he speaks is when they reach their end, when he's tugging away from her and she holds him tight whispering please, let me have this.

He pulls away and shakes his head, eyes wide and wet. "Naw, not without me. No, Beth. Don't ask me that. Don't fuckin' ask me that."

She tightens her legs around his waist and sobs into his shoulder. "Please. I love you, please."

The sob that releases from him is a mix of emotions that burn her brain and all her abilities to think, giving her one blissful moment of silence when he spills inside her. When they're done they dress silently and lay back on the bed, his hand weakly brushing through her hair until he can't even manage that anymore. They don't speak for a really long time, his body growing weaker in her arms, separating with only enough time that she can get a damp cloth and put it to his brow. She racks her brain for things to say but what is there to say that isn't this, that isn't the end. She can't let go. She doesn't want to.

"Don't lemme..." Daryl rasps suddenly, jolting her out of her mindless staring at his bandaged wrist. "Beth," he says with a little more conviction, almost panicked and she grabs him tight, letting him know she's there even though her throat is so choked she can't speak. "Don't lem-mme wake up like... them, girl. Don't do that." His straining head collapses when he's done like he gave every drop of energy he has to his words.

Her eyes squeeze shut as more exhausted tears drip down her cheeks. "I won't. I wouldn't. Im'ma keep you here. Keep you safe."

"Safe," Daryl whispers so quietly it's nearly not words at all. "Stay... safe. You an'... you a-"

Beth knows the moment that he's gone, the moment he leaves the world. His chest was rattling for hours but the death rattle is something different in its own right, something that sweeps cold knowledge all through her bones. Even knowing deep in her gut her stomach still rolls with dread when he doesn't rouse to his name. One look at his pale, lifeless skin sends her bolting to her feet. The bile bursts past her lips just as she hangs her head over the railing through the balcony doors, the sobs mixing with her breathless heaving and making her dizzy. Once she's wretched it all up she slides down the railing and let's herself collapse against the iron bars.

The world is swimming and for one crazy moment she thinks about just flinging herself over the railing above her head to end it all. How is she meant to do this without him? How can she survive all by herself? In the last six months they've grown closer than any living thing should have the right to. They fell in love. They laughed. They smiled and they got better. They kept getting better. They reinforced the house, stocked up well, planned escapes. Everything was working, everything was okay. How does she even be when he's not alive? For a long, long time she sits frozen against the railing, the night cold and frightening all alone.

The pain squeezing her insides so tight she can barely breath at all. She knows she has to go back. She can't let him wake up like that. She knows she can't. Shaking, Beth rises to her feet, numbly taking the knife from her belt as she approaches the bed. On autopilot she kneels on the edge, the hand holding the knife shaking as she cries and gasps hiccupping breaths. The metal blurs in her vision, reflecting the moonlight outside and her eyes blinking rapidly as she reaches for Daryl's still head. Taking a hold of him gently, she slightly tilts it to the side. The breath is bursting out of her as she levels the blade to the base of his skull, her throat convulsing as more bile threatens to rise up.

Screaming, she throws the knife across the room and clutches her head in her hands. "I can't! I can't, I can't, I can't! Please, I don't want to, I don't want to!" she chokes as she rocks, her eyes not looking at him, not looking anywhere near him.

Digging her nails into her forearms she tears at her own flesh and tries to use the pain to think clearly, to distract from the pain burning her alive. If she doesn't do this then she'll have to leave and let him wake here as one of them. Daryl didn't want that. He wanted her to be safe here, to have a home. He gave her a gift, a life to grow and she can't do that out there. She has to do this, she has to be brave and she has to bury him like he deserves. She needs him close, not just another walker roaming the Earth but where he belongs. He needs peace and he won't get it if his body rises again. On her hands and knees she crawls to the other side of the room and picks her knife up. Then on shaky legs she rises to walk and kneels beside him once more.

Gently taking his head in her hand again, she lays the point of the knife against the base of his skull and closes her eyes. "I love you, Daryl."

Then she slides the blade home.