Ch. 26
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Daryl sat beside her bed, watching her as she slept. That's what Bob had called it, anyway. He thought it was bullshit. Beth had taken a pretty decent hit to the head on the way down, and he knew she had a concussion on top of all that blood loss.
It had taken hours to stitch her up, and the scar would be brutal after it had all healed. She got lucky despite everything, though. Bob guess that she had started to pull away before Pete made contact because the wound wasn't terribly deep.
Daryl imagined the scar years from now, a thick line marring her skin. His own scars crisscrossed his back never fully allowing him to forget what had happened when he was a boy. That one of hers, like his, she could cover up, though. The two scars on her face would always be a visible reminder of what happened.
In the bed beside hers, Rosita still lay unconscious. Abraham sat beside her, facing toward Daryl. They didn't speak. Eugene had been in earlier, and despite Daryl's presence, made a sincere apology about leading him on a wild goose chase.
It was exhausting. Everything was bearing down on him at once, and it was almost like he couldn't even get a good breath. He closed his eyes for a moment then laid his head down on the edge of Beth's bed. He was drained completely, and before he could try and stop himself, he fell asleep holding her hand.
Merle sat on the porch steps, ignoring the crying coming from down the road. Jessie wasn't taking Pete's death like one would imagine, but not many abused women felt freedom as soon as their abuser was gone.
It didn't matter who had called the shot, all that seemed to matter was that Rick pulled the trigger.
Politicians were all the same. They wanted the glory and the power, but they didn't want to do the dirty work. They let other people do that. Hell, it was why they were even in the safe zone to begin with.
Once her crying had stopped or maybe she had just went inside, Merle shifted a little to look behind him. He thought about Beth. She had been messed up bad, and after he broke out of his shock at seeing her nearly gutted, they had already carried her out of the house.
She had been there and made sure that Carl and Judith had run. She stayed behind because she knew Pete would have followed her. His strides would have eaten hers up and to get him one-on-one would have been suicide. He was too strong for her.
Merle could picture her reaching for the gun, then trying to lean out of the way as the sword sliced up her torso.
He knew pain. He knew fear. And he didn't like the idea of her being so familiar with those two things. Sure, she had felt them when the prison fell, but it was different when it was your own blood spilling. He wondered if she was conscious for long, and if she prayed that they would find her before she turned.
"She's gonna be fine," Carol said as she sat beside him. Merle nodded and kept his eyes on the step below him. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I realize that you probably hold me at fault here. For pushin' things. For gettin' Pete to this point."
"Truth be told, I hadn't even thought about how ya fucked up this situation yet," he said and glanced up at her. "Now that ya mention it, though, yeah, ya knew that bastard was unstable, and ya pushed lookin' for a reaction. Ya fuckin' got it."
Carol nodded and stared straight forward. "She'll live, and we control this safe zone."
"That's really all ya got to say?"
"It's not like apologizin' will help. She was in the right place at the right time."
"What?" He asked incredulously and leaned away from her.
"I pushed. I know it," she said quietly. "If she hadn't been there, though, Carl and Judith would be dead."
Instead of speaking, Merle sighed and shook his head. They stayed like that for a long while before Carol started to stand up. "I'm not good anymore. I'll always look for the angle, the little move that will keep us alive longer."
"You can be strategic, but ya don't gotta be heartless. Pretendin' you're not hurtin' over Beth ain't puttin' on a brave face, it's foolin' yourself."
Carol looked away. After a couple of minutes of silence, she asked, "Will you come back to our room?"
"Do ya want me to or do ya wanna keep up appearences?" He asked, completely shocked by her question.
"I want you there," she whispered.
"What's your angle?" His voice was harsher than he remembered it being in a while, but when it came to Carol, she was something that could hurt him, regularly, and it felt right sometimes to cause hurt back.
"I like bein' with you," she admitted. "I—" she trailed off and shook her head.
"What?"
"You're the only person that makes me feel a little safe. And I'm sorry, Merle. I'm sorry that I push and pull you. I don't know what to do with us because I'm terrified that one of us is gonna die."
It might have been the wrong move, and he knew she would run cold again, and he'd end up frustrated and angry, but he said, "I'll bring my shit back."
Her shoulders seemed to sag in relief, and she took a step back. "I told Rick I'd check on the kids. I'll be home after that."
"I'll be around," he said.
He wished he had a cigarette, something to calm his nerves a little. He wondered again if things between them would ever be easy or if it would always be an uphill battle.
Deep down, he knew that they would never have a normal relationship, but it wasn't enough to make him give up altogether.
She groaned as a stinging pain sliced up her body.
"Beth?" Daryl's voice was rough and right by her ear.
She tried to open her eyes but they felt glued shut, and the burning across her stomach and chest intensified with each breath. Beth swallowed and opened her mouth, but the only noise that came out was a pained moaned.
"Somebody get Bob," Daryl said but his voice was further away.
"Ya gotta stay awake. It's important to stay awake now."
"It hurts, Daryl." She managed to get that out but paid for it with every move of her tongue or little breath she took. Her head was throbbing and her face felt swollen. The inside of her cheek was tender when her tongue brushed over it.
Daryl's mouth was right beside her ear, and she wondered if he was hiding his face from someone else or maybe just his words because his voice was barely above a whisper.
"Beth, baby, ya gotta hold on. Bob'll give ya somethin' for the pain, I promise. Ya hit your head pretty good. Ya've been out a whole day."
Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes with her next breath, and that seemed to back him even more frantic.
"I'm sorry," he said and turned his face into her hair. "I'm so fuckin' sorry."
"Hey! She's awake!" Bob's voice was too happy for her brain to appreciate at that moment.
"Can't ya get her somethin' stronger? She's got a fuck ton of stitches, and ya gave her some supped up expired Tylenol."
"I'll get her the good stuff," Bob said. "I didn't want to drug her further, though. I know it hurts, Beth, but you woke up faster because I didn't give the strong stuff. I was worried about your head wound. I have no way of getting images to know if there was any severe damage."
Beth peeled one eye open and blinked at the bright lights. She was in the house they had turned into a clinic. Bob's face entered her line of sight.
"There's those beautiful blue eyes," he said with a smile. "I'm gonna put something in your I.V. It's gonna make you loopy, and it might even make you sleep some more, okay?"
"Yeah," she said. "Water?" She asked. Before she had even finished saying the word, Daryl was holding up a little cup with a straw. She coughed and choked on the first sip. Her cheek stinging with each pull from the straw and her chest aching from the swallow.
"What's wrong with me?" She asked after he took the water away.
The meds that Bob had pushed into her I.V. made the room spin and the ache muted just a little.
"Ya don't remember?" Daryl asked.
She shook her head. "I remember Morgan and gettin' him back here, but that's it."
Beth turned her head to the side to face him and saw his face scrunch up. "Pete," he said and looked down.
It came back then. Carl and Judith getting out through the back door. Trying to grab the gun. Michonne's katana cutting her open with such ease.
"What happened after?"
"Guess he thought ya were dead. He came to the meetin', and Reg tried to stop him, but Pete ended up killin' him then Rick killed Pete."
"And I'm here," she said and closed her eyes.
Daryl leaned in close again, and she wondered who else was in the room. Maggie wasn't. If she was, she would have been all over her.
"I thought ya were dead," he said against her cheek. "There was so much blood, and ya weren't movin'."
"Bob said I'll be fine," she assured him even though her body felt the exact opposite.
"Yeah, well, ya didn't look like you were gonna be fine when I got there."
Daryl sat back in his chair and took her hand again. Her head felt foggy, and she thought it was a little like being drunk. Beth closed her eyes and took a few shallow breaths to calm her stomach.
"How bad?" She asked quietly.
His lips touched her hand before he said. "Sliced ya from your hip across your torso. Got a gash on your cheek and forehead."
The pain in her face made a lot more sense now. "My beauty pageant days are over?" She snorted at her own little joke then opened her eyes. Daryl was staring at her, his eyes wide and scared. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but he had her hand, plus her body was starting to feel really heavy along with her eyes. "Hey, it's okay," she said. "I'm right here."
He didn't respond right away, or maybe she just didn't hear him.
Her eyes closed and her hand fell slack in his.
She was breathing. He could see that, but he started to lose his shit a little.
He hollered for Bob, and he came running from a back room. "What's wrong?"
"She's knocked out," he said in a slightly too high-pitched voice.
Bob sighed. "She's fine. The meds along with what happened to her body have made her exhausted. She's just asleep. Next time, I'll lessen the dose, so she stays awake longer. This is her body's way of healing, Daryl."
Daryl swallowed hard and looked away. He finally nodded, but didn't met Bob's eyes again. He didn't want her asleep. He wanted her awake and walking around and completely fine, but that was a long way from possible.
After Bob seemed think that Daryl was calm enough, he went to Rosita's bedside and checked the bandage on her head. Abraham spoke to him in low tones, but Daryl didn't strain to hear. That was private. It was why he whispered to her.
She had been asleep about fifteen minutes before Maggie came through the door. She had been checking on Beth every couple of hours or so while trying to do damage control all over the safe zone.
Deanna might have used Rick to kill Pete, but people were still suspicious of them. Especially with what happened on Glenn's run a few days earlier and then with what happened at the meeting.
"Has she woken up yet?"
Daryl nodded. "Only for a few minutes, though. Bob gave her somethin' for the pain, and she fell back asleep."
"That's good," Maggie said and pulled up a chair to the other side of Beth's bed. "She needs to rest as much as she can. Maybe when she wakes up for good, it won't hurt so much."
"It's gonna hurt for a long time. She ain't gonna be able to get out of the walls for months. Can ya imagine her tryin' to run from a herd or gettin' walker blood in a healin' wound?"
Maggie nodded and shot him a soft smile. "It'll be fine for y'all to stay inside for a while." She looked behind her to Rosita and asked, "How's she?"
"Still out," Abraham said as he leaned back in his chair. He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. "Longer she's out, the less likely it is she'll wake up. She's already losin' weight. Can only pour so much broth down her throat, ya know?"
"I'm so sorry," she whispered and looked away.
Abraham made a noise but didn't say anything else. After that, they sat in silence for a good long while before Maggie stood up and kissed her sister's forehead. "I'll be back, Bethy."
A few hours later, Daryl was standing in the kitchen warming up more broth for both Beth and Rosita when he heard Abraham yell for Bob.
Daryl turned off the burner and ran into the front room that had been made into the hospital room. Rosita's eyes were open, and she was looking around. She hadn't spoke yet, at least not that Daryl had heard, but when Bob flashed the light in her eyes, she groaned. "That hurts."
"You're eyes will be sensitive for a little while. You've had them closed for days," Bob said like it was completely normal.
Daryl went back into the kitchen to finish with their dinner, and let out a relieved breath. This was good. They needed to catch a little break.
"Ya should let Jessie cut your hair," Beth whispered late that night.
She was in pain, he could tell by her facial expression, but she was awake and that was good news. She had eaten which was even better. The pain medicine Bob had given her was starting to kick in again, though, and she was smiling at him like she had that night at the moonshine shack.
"That woman ain't touchin' my hair."
"I could try," she said with a grin.
"Why ya want my hair short?"
She closed her eyes, and he thought she was going to fall asleep, but she said, "I like your eyes."
He grunted and squeezed her hand.
"Ya should really go home, Daryl. Get a good night's rest. I'm fine here."
"Nah." He shook his head. "I'm good."
She smiled a little. "You're so stubborn."
"So are you," he said back to her.
"Daddy always said that about me and Maggie." Beth hummed quietly. "I miss him. I think he would've been good here. Tyreese, too. They were such good people."
"They were," he agreed.
"Tara was nice, too."
"She was." He didn't know much more about her than she was nice, sometimes a little sarcastic, but he had liked it.
He waited for her to say something else, but realized pretty quickly that she had gone back to sleep, and he was alone with his thoughts. It wasn't always a good place to be, especially the last few days.
Daryl knew that things were bad, and that they had the threat of the Wolves hanging over their heads, but for a little while he was going to be relieved.
Rosita was awake and seemed to be okay.
Beth was going to be fine. They had been giving her antibiotics through her I.V. and her wound wasn't red and irritated. She hadn't ran a fever, and she'd been able to keep down her food.
She just needed some time to heal, and he would do whatever he could to make sure it was safe for her while she got better.
Daryl stood up and went to the recliner along the wall in front of her bed, and kicked it back. He could use a bit of sleep if he was going to be useful to anyone come morning.