Beth swallowed the lump in her throat as she turned back to the man laying on the bed in front of her. Less than a minute ago, the man in the bed was just Mr. Dixon from the Atlanta group. Now? Now she's the man she's loved and hated, the man she's been dreaming about at night, a faceless silhouette that has had to stand by her side.
She took a deep breath in and out before she poured the disinfectant onto linen strip and—she was using all her willpower for her hands not to shake, because in a moment, she was going to be stitching his scalp back on—and gently made the first dab at his grazed gunshot wound.
Daryl yanked his body up, suddenly full of adrenaline as he felt the warm familiar touch of receiving a soul mark, but it was much more than getting a soul mark, this shock engulfed his entire body. He felt like someone had electrocuted him, rewired his brain. He heaved deeply in and out, taking in as much air as he could to fill his lungs.
"Daryl-!" he heard Rick, but Hershel's outcry was louder.
"Beth! Someone take care of her head wound right now. Get Patricia out of bed if you have to. Do any of you know how to stitch besides Elizabeth?"
Daryl managed to squint at the blonde standing next to him, half her face lit from the lamp in the room, other half shadowed. One of her hands was extended towards him, near the side of his face where he had been shot. Her lips were pursed and she was staring at him intently, knowingly.
Her gaze was too intense after only a moment before he looked away.
"Daddy, I don't feel a thing. Let me- may I finish cleaning your wound, Mr. Dixon?" Beth Greene's voice was a thick hum over the tense room.
Then, all eyes were on Beth. She was backed against the wall, barely a foot and a half away from where Daryl was laying—(he hadn't even glanced at this Greene and now he was suddenly able to feel her in the room, feel how close she was to him)—holding some kind of rag in her hand. Her pink blouse was only two-thirds pink, the other third being a dark damp red that was obviously blood. Her face had lost all it's color, her blue eyes wide, starin' at him as if she seein' light for the first time. She had a cut on her forehead and on her left temple, an open wound with blood slowly trickling down her cheek.
Daryl's breathing was still heavy, and he let out a grunt to respond after he realized he may have been silent too long. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her hand inch close to his face and gently dab his forehead. Daryl, overwhelmed by the burning of the disinfectant and the awareness of how goddamn close she was to him.
"Good to go," She murmured finally. Hershel had moved close to the two while she cleaned his forehead, examining his daughter and cleaning her up at the same time.
"Bethy, go to Patricia, have her fix you up." Hershel said in a quiet, solemn voice. Daryl's face flushed as he felt her walk out of the room, the warmth of her closeness that had been controlling his mind dwindled, but he still wasn't able to make eye contact with anyone yet. He needed a moment to process what had just happened.
"We're going to have to clean your abdomen, too, son." Was all Hershel said while he stitched Daryl's forehead.
"Daryl," Rick said, clearing his throat. "We saw you found Sophia's doll."
"Yeah," Daryl nodded. "I found it washed up on the creek bed right there. Must of dropped it crossing there somewhere."
"Cuts the grid almost in half," Rick commented, looking back at Shane, who sat in a chair in the corner. Shane's head was resting on his hand, leaning against the chair, giving Daryl a puzzled glance before looking at his old partner.
"Yeah, you're welcome," Daryl snipped. On this hole journey for the little girl, he had been the only one, and not one had Shane even looked at him like that. Like he was concerned for once.
Rick simply nodded at Daryl's lash. "How's he looking?"
"I had no idea we'd be going through the antibiotics so quickly, between Bethy and Daryl." Hershel said as he closed up Daryl's arrow wound. The room was tense again at the mention of Hershel's daughter.
"I ain't got nothin' to do with that." Daryl barked, feeling his face grow hot. Hershel almost snorted next to him.
"Like hell you don't, son." Hershel said.
"I was out there all day lookin' for a little girl! And I ain't your son."
"No need to get so worked up, Daryl, it's just a figure of speech. Speaking of, any idea what happened to my horse?"
"Dear lord, Beth, what has he done now?" Patricia asked at the sight of Beth, shaking her head.
"Gettin' shot in our front yard, apparently." Maggie muttered, causing the younger Greene to give Maggie a look.
Patricia stopped what she was doing as she cleaned Beth's head. "What's she talking about? She's not- no."
Beth smiled weakly as her aunt's eye's widened. "I didn't mean it like that, Bethy, I just- we never expected,"
"It's okay. I.. Didn't expect it either."
Beth pushed through the door an inch, bed tray of food in her hands. The lights were low as Daryl pulled the covers of the bed over himself.
"Figured you could use a hot meal after today." Beth said, bringing it over to him. His eyes were low and he quietly accepted it, grunting at her. She tried to hide her smile at the familiar sound. "How are you feeling?
"'Bout as good as I look." He responded, focusing intently on the food. Beth was silent, unsure how to respond, reaching her hand up to the tattoo on her shoulder subconsciously. When she realized she was about to trace it, she sat on the end of the bed.
"What's the 'X' stand for?" She asked, pointing at the tattoo he had recently given himself on his collar bone.
Daryl looked up at her now, furrowing his eyebrows. "How'd you know?"
Beth reached the collar of her shirt, tugging it down gently to show her matching one. Daryl huffed.
"You got that?" Beth nodded. Daryl looked away again.
"I've got a.. lot. Of everythin'. Born with some." She told him, adjusting her shirt back comfortably.
When all Daryl did was grunt in response, not looking at her, she stood up and made her way out the door.
"Goodnight, Daryl."
Daryl did his best to avoid Beth after that. After everything he felt when she was around. Hell, he could feel her even when she was all the way in the house and we was out in their makeshift camp out front.
This was the last thing he needed right now. He had things he had to do. He had to find that little girl.
And then, all at once, commotion happened, and he watched that little girl stumble out of the barn last of all. All the walkers Hershel had been keeping in the barn.
He watched his soulmate cry over her undead mother and chose to comfort Carol.
He heard about her collapse, her shock. He felt it in himself but was able to keep going unlike her.
It wasn't until the soul mark on his wrist, a cut across a wrist, that he went runnin' into the Greene house as fast as he can.
"She's in there, I heard glass." Maggie said, pounding on the door as Daryl followed into Beth's room behind Lori.
"Beth!" Daryl barked, pushing through.
"Beth, honey, please, dont' do this, I'm not mad-" Maggie pleaded over and over, but Daryl wasn't waiting. He busted down the door, seeing his soulmate crying, blood running down her arm, same as his.
"I'm sorry," She cried, hand over her wrist.
Daryl moved quickly, grabbing the first thing he saw, ironically a nicely hung towel, and wrapped it around her wrist. "Hold it up, up over your head. Yeah, just like that, girl."
Beth fell into him, sobbing in his chest, and he wrapped an arm around her, giving her a squeeze, wanting nothing more than to help this girl he barely knew.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry-," She kept saying, and he just shushed her, ushering her over to the bed.
"Hershel. We need Hershel." Lori said, running out the door.
"Bethy, Bethy, it's gonna be alright," Maggie said, rubbing Beth's back as she cried and shook in Daryl's arms.
"This ain't anythin' worse than what you had to get from havin' me, sure your paw can patch this right up easy." Daryl told her quietly. She sniffled looking up at him, the faintest smile on her face for a moment, before tears poured again.
Daryl had stayed with her for a little while that night, while Hershel patched her up, Hershel speaking softly to Beth. While he was stichting her left wrist, her right hand was held by his calloused one, letting her squeeze.
"It's different gettin' stitched when I'm the one in pain," she muttered to the men.
He didn't understand this familiarity that he had with her. He knew why, he wasn't an idiot, he realized she was his soulmate. He just didn't know how he, Daryl Dixon, was so easily able to comfort a young woman without feeling too awkward or uncomfortable. It just seemed like.. Muscle memory with her, like it was how it had always been, now that he could look at her.
His whole body felt alive when he was with her, in a way he'd heard the stories when he was younger. Everything was different. He was always hypervigilant, he had to be to know the signs to track and hunt for his whole life. But this was unfamiliar territory. Suddenly he could read her so easily, and that said a lot to Daryl, who was never sure, especially with woman, what the hell they meant when they spoke.
Hershel cleaned Daryls soul mark up in no time at all, giving his daughter a look before standing up.
"I don't mind you staying and keeping Bethy company for a bit, but the door stays open. You here me, son?"
Daryl resisted the urge to bark at him, biting his tongue and nodding. "Your house, door stays open. Ain't nothin' to worry about."
Hershel smiled sadly, kissing his daughter on the forehead before leaving.
Now it was just Daryl in Beth on her bed. She was laying back and he was sitting up and the foot, just like the other night when she had brought him dinner, but reversed.
"Thank you.. For comin' up and opening the door. Dunno.. Dunno what I was thinkin', now. Dunno why I thought.. Everything just.. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. My momma.. Everything was just.." Beth was at a loss for words.
Daryl nodded, understanding. He felt the same way when he saw Sophia walking out of that barn. But she, this little Beth, never experienced the walkers like he had. The deaths that he had.
"The 'X' on my shoulder is for my brother. Merle." He told her. "Lost him back in Atlanta."
"Oh," Beth said quitely. "I'm so sorry.. I had no idea."
"Ain't somethin' I brag about." He paused, fiddling his fingers against each other. "Shoulda come sooner. Come check on ya. I knew what was happenin' and I stayed away."
"Daryl," Beth said, tone serious, pushing herself to sit up. "I don't even remember much of the past few days. I was in shock. 'Sides.. I don't think anyone coulda stopped me."
"I shoulda been there for you. That's what-," Daryl stopped himself. "I shoulda been there. Talked to ya. Don't know how this.. Whole thing works."
Beth managed a smile. "I don't either. What matters is you're here now."