Over the next few days, Beth Greene gets down to the very important business of surviving.
There are times when she just wants to lie down and let darkness overtake her, when the pain and exhaustion and hunger are so bad all she can do is cry, but she won't allow herself to give up. She will survive, and she will find her family again, and nothing in this world is going to stop her, not even her own treacherous body.
Crawling out from under the floorboards, she stops, listens, and follows the sounds to a creek nearby, a source of fresh water. Later, with a mirror and glass salvaged from a broken down car, she boils some of the water and sterilises a strip torn from an old alter cloth before binding her head to ensure the wound remains clean.
Beth wonders if that would be counted as sacrilege, but here in this new world, surely her life is to be valued more than a trapping that will most likely never be used again. The bible had said that the meek would inherit the earth after all, though Beth is unsure if she can still lay claim to that title.
She makes snares from the available materials on hand and lays them carefully, praying that they work and that she will soon have something else to eat, her can of peaches long since finished. On the day after she has laid them she is rewarded with a rabbit, and she almost weeps in gratitude.
Tears slip down her cheeks as she cleans it, thinking of a moment that seems almost a lifetime ago now, sitting in a small clearing with Daryl, a squirrel laid out in front of her.
It was before the moonshine shack, before they had come to an understanding, an unburdening. Even before that day, even with that cloud over his head and that darkness threatening to take over, he had still tried to protect her by insisting that she learn.
He'd grunted when she was done, placed one heavy hand on her shoulder to signal his satisfaction, and she'd felt her spirits lift with that simple gesture, despite his inability to give her anything more.
It had been later, when his spirit was lighter, the weight of those heavy years lifted from him, and all that he had kept inside for so long, that he had begun to truly offer himself in words and gestures. She had treasured every short sentence or fleeting touch, a sign that he really had put it away, left those burdens behind him.
He would be proud of her if he could see her here today; he will be proud of her when he sees her again.
The next time she leaves the church, Beth dispatches two walkers that have impaled themselves on the organ pipes, stabbing them both in the head with the letter opener and removing their bodies from the spikes before checking them for anything useful.
One body yields a hunting knife, and Beth clutches it to her chest for a moment before she clips it decisively on her belt. The other body has no weapons on it, but in one of his pockets she finds a lighter which she quickly claims. She is still too weak to drag the bodies too far into the woods, so she lets them lay where they are for the moment, hoping the stench may deter other walkers from finding her.
She is making progress until the fifth day, when she begins to feel the effects of a fever coming on, suddenly weak and hot and dizzy. There is barely time to collect water from the river before she needs to collapse and she drags herself back to the church, lies down on the cool floorboards and sets bottles of water out by her side.
As she tosses and turns, she tries to remember to drink so that she doesn't become dehydrated, gathering enough strength to wet a cloth to place on her forehead, before losing herself to fever dreams.
She dreams that she is back on the farm, sitting on the porch with Maggie and Shawn and their parents. Her father's arm is around her shoulders and he smiles down at her. "You'll make it doodlebug, you're strong." he tells her, and Beth smiles up at him, so very happy to see his face after so long.
"I miss you daddy," she tells him, and the dream changes to the prison, her father's leg now gone, the stump bloody and him sweating on his bunk through his fevers as she holds his hand. He had survived, just as she had believed he would, and now all Beth needs to do is have the same faith in herself that she'd had in him.
Her dream shifts to Maggie then, a darkness around her, a red scar upon her heart as she curls in upon herself, turned away from the others and any light that might reach her. Beth tries to touch her sister but she cannot cross the distance, the shadow upon Maggie too thick to penetrate.
She dreams of Daryl, kneeling on the forest floor and weeping, as he punches the ground again and again until his fist is bloody as she is powerless to stop him. Time passes and she dreams of him again - on the edge of the group, alone even among them, one arm thrown over his eyes as he sleeps, his other hand on his crossbow even in rest.
She reaches out to touch his brow, to smooth away the lines of pain there, and he throws his arm back, his eyes opening and then widening when he sees her.
"You're not here," he announces, his voice breaking even as he reaches out a hand to grasp her wrist, his fingers closing painfully around it. "This ain't real."
"Maybe not," Beth agrees, because there is no way that she could really be there with him, in a small clearing away from the highway, holding this conversation while the others continue to slumber a short distance away. "But I'm with you, I'm with you for now."
His expression is more open than she's ever seen it before, the anguish on it clearly readable as he pushes himself up and lifts his other hand to touch her cheek, fingertips slowly ghosting over the scar there. He has nothing to lose now he believes her to be dead, no reason to conceal what he might feel.
"I'm dreamin'," Daryl murmurs, even as he moves his hand again, this time to thread a loose strand of her hair between his thumb and forefinger, "You'll be gone when I wake up."
"I will be," Beth replies, even as an ache settles in her chest to say it, to know that this can't last, "But I swear I'll find you, I'll make it right. I'm coming back to you."
" 'S impossible, ain't nobody able to come back from that," Daryl shakes his head, his hand returning to her cheek, only the lightest brush of fingertips as if he's afraid to touch her in case the dream ends. He looks into her eyes, his face close to hers,his breathing heavy. "I can't put it away, Beth, can't put you away. Can't just let it go. Don't want to."
"I'm sorry," she whispers to him, "I'm sorry I did it, but I'll make it right, I will. Wait for me, I'll be coming soon."
"Sweetest dream I've ever had, even if you are a lie." Daryl murmurs, finally letting go of her wrist to interlace his fingers with hers instead. " 'M so tired, Beth. Never been so tired. See you every time I close my eyes, see you fall all over again."
"Shhhh," she hushes him, before tugging on his hand, pushing his head gently down to indicate he should lay it in her lap.
He does so gladly, closing his eyes and blessedly glad when for once no images of her dying come to him in the black of his mind.
She tangles her fingers in his hair, smoothing out the tangles while she hums under her breath.
"Sing for me?" Daryl asks her, his voice almost plaintive.
"Ain't no jukebox, huh?" Beth laughs, but she begins to sing anyway, her voice low and sweet.
"Well I heard there was a secret chord, that David played and it pleased the Lord..."
In the morning Beth wakes, and lifting her hand to her forehead she finds it clammy but cold, her fever gone. The dream stays with her throughout the day as she sets about regaining her strength, gathering berries and resetting her snares.
Fever dreams are the most vivid, and she almost wishes that it had been less so, because even now it is as if she can feel Daryl's hair threading through her fingers, hear the soft sigh fall from his lips as he allowed himself to finally relax under her hands as she sang.
"Wait for me, I'll be coming for you soon." She had promised him. She prays that she can make it come true.
A/N: A huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favourited or followed, particularly the guests I can't reply to personally. I am trying to ensure I update quickly, and comments are always a source of inspiration!