I do not own any of the TWD characters.
Life With a Baby and a Recovering Dixon
Dr. Nelson had done excellent work on stitching Daryl up and had even confirmed that he did not have a concussion. However, the medical professional could not leave that boat without telling everyone present that Daryl Dixon more than likely needed some follow up care.
Daryl grumbled through a bourbon laced haze, "Reckon 'll be aright."
Kelly looked on as if Daryl were speaking a foreign language. Of course Kelly had heard a hint of Daryl's southern drawl on occasion, but he'd never heard anything quite like this. It almost sounded like a foreign language to him.
Negan assured the doctor that Daryl was tough as nails and would be fine in a day or two. Kelly, Beth, and Lucille on the other hand, stood with their mouths gaping open wondering what the hell was wrong with these people to think that they shouldn't take Daryl in to an ER immediately for attention.
Dwight and Spencer had returned, both covered in blood and looking a bit disheveled themselves.
"What on earth happened to you?" a concerned Beth asked Dwight. Simon couldn't help but notice that none of Mrs. Dixon's concern was directed his way, only her man slave Dwight – that's what Simon had taking to calling Dwight, Beth's man slave.
Dwight just shrugged his shoulders and didn't really offer up an answer. Beth huffed in annoyance at Dwight's response but handed him a dampened towel to wipe the blood from his face.
"Can someone at least help me get Daryl to bed?" Beth asked the onlookers. Simon stepped forward, scooped Daryl from the counter, not so gingerly, and headed to the sleeping cabins. He glanced back at Beth who was directly behind the pair of men, silently asking which room was theirs.
"Second on the right?" Beth answered.
Once in their cabin, Beth pulled the covers back on Daryl's side of the bed and fluffed up every available pillow she could find.
"Put him down" Beth requested "gently, please" she added as an afterthought.
Simon did as Beth asked and began to make his exit.
"Thank you Simon" Beth stated quietly, "I never could've gotten him down here on my own." Simon never recalled Beth actually speaking to him directly.
"You're welcome Mrs. Dixon" Simon replied. When looking into the cabin one last time, Simon could tell that Beth was on the brink of tears and the worry was evident in her eyes.
"Mrs. Dixon" Simon added, "Don't worry about Mr. Dixon too much – he's a tough son of a bitch."
With that comment, a tiny smile flittered across Beth's face and she gave Simon a slight nod. Simon gently pulled the door to and made his way back to the galley.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Daryl" Beth called from the kitchen. No answer and no surprise really.
It had been a full week since the incident on the boat, and several days since the surgery to repair Daryl's shoulder. Beth had asked the surgeon to make sure and prescribe the good stuff for her husband, knowing that she'd never be able to keep him down to rest and recover otherwise.
Daryl drifted in and out of consciousness thinking he'd responded to Beth, but apparently he hadn't because now she was standing over the top of him. Daryl had gotten out of bed earlier in the morning, made his way to the living room and stretched out on the sofa to watch some TV. Daryl remembered it taking a while to get comfortable and Beth had been there fussing over him and trying to get a pillow propped under his arm just so.
Then Beth had brought him a couple of pain pills just as he'd found an old western starring a very young Clint Eastwood – and that was all Daryl remembered. Now the credits were rolling on the movie and his wife was standing over the top of him looking like some sort of serial killer but her weapon of choice was a kitchen towel. At this point Daryl wouldn't have minded to awfully much to be choked out with a kitchen towel – anything to put him out of this God awful misery.
"Daryl" Beth asked quietly, and looking all sweet –not at all like a murderer "are ya ready for your lunch?"
"Lunch?" he asked comically, as if he didn't even know the meaning of the word lunch.
Beth fought a giggle. Incapacitated Daryl Dixon was about the funniest thing she'd ever encountered. "Yes, lunch" Beth repeated. "I made your favorite get well meal. Tomato soup, grilled cheese with no crusts, and dill pickle chips. For dessert, I have homemade chocolate pudding."
Daryl had a funny look on his face.
"Well, your favorite get well dessert would be a Jello pudding cup, but I couldn't find them at Bockwinkel's so I had to improvise."
"I ain't ever been sick 'round you" Daryl mumbled. "How'd ya know 'bout my favorite get well meal?"
Beth just smiled. "You talk in your anesthesia induced sleep – I learned lots of secrets Mr. Dixon." And on that note, Beth winked at her husband, turned on her heel, and headed back to the kitchen to retrieve Daryl's lunch. She returned in a jiffy and placed a lunch tray on a little side table that Daryl had never laid eyes on before.
"Where'd that table come from?" Daryl asked.
"The gettin place" Beth dismissed his question.
The monitor on the coffee table jumped to life with lights and the sweetest sound Daryl could ever remember hearing – his baby girl waking from her morning nap. "I'll be right back." Beth was gone again. Daryl stared at his food, just out of his reach. It sure did smell good. Maybe, just maybe if he reached as far as he could. Nope, Daryl couldn't do it. Over the monitor he could hear Beth talking to Emily, making out the sound of Beth's pulling a wet diaper from their baby to replace it with a fresh one, all the while talking and soothing the just awakened baby.
"Wanta go see your Daddy?" Beth asked Emily. Emily responded with a gurgle and then a burp. Beth laughed. "Well, my goodness – feel better? Let's go see your Daddy – he just woke up from a nap too, although he's a bit grumpier than you are. Go figure."
Daryl was a bit offended. He didn't think he was grumpy at all. Over the monitor Daryl heard a door opening.
"Hey Ms. Beth – hey there Em" Noah cooed at the baby. "How's Mr. Dixon today?"
"Grumpy, hungry" Beth answered. "Oh, Noah, will you go in there and help him sit up so he can have his lunch. I completely forgot all about him waiting on his lunch."
Daryl rolled his eyes – he really was offended now. One, because he had to have help sitting up while his arm was imprisoned in that confounded device and two, Beth had forgotten all about him. Maybe, Daryl realized, he was a bit grumpy.
"Sure thing" Noah replied.
"Oh, and Noah" Beth called to the young man, "when you get Daryl situated and eating, there's more lunch in the kitchen. Help yourself."
"Yes Mam" Noah smiled. "He didn't even bother to ask what was for lunch – he knew it would be good no matter what."
Beth emerged from Emily's nursery a bit later, baby in a sling and looking just a little flustered. In the living room she found Daryl happily slurping his tomato soup and Noah finishing off the chips straight from the bag. They'd found another western to watch.
"Hey, guys" Beth blew the hair out of her face. "I need a shower. She's been fed and I'm gonna put her in the glider – can ya'll keep an eye on her?"
"Bring her here" Daryl told his wife. "I need some snuggle time with my Baby Girl." Daryl pushed the lunch tray away from him.
"Ya hadn't finished your lunch yet Daryl" Beth fussed.
"I'll finish – right now I need my girl" Daryl told his wife. Beth couldn't argue with that and looked to Noah.
"I'll make sure she gets in the glider at some point" Noah laughed and turned the volume on the TV down a bit.
Beth placed Emily in the crook of Daryl's good arm and tucked her in well. She knew Daryl wouldn't let go of her. Beth smiled up at Daryl who seemed to still be captivated by every move their daughter made. "Love you" she whispered and kissed Daryl on the forehead.
"Mmmm" Daryl hummed in the back of his throat. "Love you too."
Beth left the room to go enjoy the seclusion of her tub full of bubbly water – if she could just get about thirty minutes to herself today, she'd consider that a victory. And she did. Beth took her time, shaved her legs, washed and conditioned her hair, and then fell asleep for a very short nap.
Meanwhile, back in the living room, Daryl is explaining the finer points of a bar room brawl to his baby girl as they watch a wild west bar room fight on the big screen.
"Ya see Baby Girl" Daryl began and nodded to the TV, "Ya don't ever let em get a hold of a beer bottle or a chair leg – anything really that they can use as a weapon against ya. Less a course, you got a weapon too – then all's fair, ya know."
Noah just stared at Daryl.
"What?" Daryl asked.
"You really think she'll ever need to use this advice?" Noah laughed.
"Well, knowing her lineage – it's a definite possibility" Daryl answered in all seriousness.
"Okay, let's say she does end up in some sort of bar room altercation" Noah proposed. "You really think you're the one to be dishing out advice based on your current situation?" It was all Noah could do not to burst out laughing at the look of disbelief on Daryl Dixon's face.
Just as Daryl was about to waylay, verbally of course, into Noah for questioning his bar room fighting ability the windows of the apartment were damn near blown out by the sonic boom of what just took place in little Emily's diaper. While Emily grinned from ear to ear, an invisible toxic plume filled the room and both men instinctively pulled their shirts up to cover their mouths and noses.
"Oh Dear God" Daryl exclaimed. "Emily Bree – fu, I mean fudge. What the hell?"
"Shit" Noah gasped. Noah rarely used an ugly word, but he was gasping for fresh air and it just slipped out. "Emily, you nasty!"
Both men were laughing, but Emily wasn't finished. The sonic boom was just a precursor if you will, the mother load (so to speak) was now presenting itself. Emily smiled and giggled as she filled her diaper, to overflowing by the way, with the runniest, greenest, most disgusting stuff Daryl Dixon had ever encountered. IT ran out the back of the diaper and each leg hole, IT ran up the back side of her pretty little romper outfit, and …. IT ran all up Daryl's stomach, chest, and his good arm.
"Oh God" Daryl sputtered. "I think I'm gonna hurl."
"Don't you dare" Noah threatened, while also belly laughing uncontrollably. Noah stood to get Emily out of Daryl's way, making sure to hold her out as if she were a time bomb just ticking away – IT continued to drip down each of her legs onto the carpet.
"Beth" Daryl yelled. "Beth!"
"Ms. Beth" now Noah was yelling for help. "Ms. Beth!" Noah took off for the nursery with the baby, trailing IT as he went.
That's how Beth was awakened from her secret cat nap – to two grown ass men, her carpeting, and a baby covered in poo. Her private escape was nice while it lasted.