I know I've been a bit sparse (mostly form my other stories) but here we are! And I hope you enjoy xxx I wanted to tackle stigma of mental health too- so I hope it comes across what not to do *cough Herschel cough* xxxx
Some things inevitably bond us to one another. This can be as simple as sharing an experience or as complex as a turbulent journey into the more intricate elements of the human condition. Beth and Daryl were inarguably tied to each other, there was no two ways about it. It was a transitional period which they both learnt to accept that the other was no longer just another stranger in the same apocalyptic haven as themselves. They were bound, and years later he would remember her and think of her as his life flashed before his eyes.
The first real morning in which the sun had come out in a week saw Beth waking up to the sound of yells. The first scream was the worst, the loudest strangled. Singular and loud. Then the sicken chorus joined in. death clung to those sounds, the noise of the end. You can't scream here unless you're dying or going mad- not if you don't want the walkers to get you.
Daryl had sat up seconds before her brain configured the blood curdling noises to what they were. There was no time between his registration and jumping up. Once a solitary man, Daryl now found himself irrevocably changed to a man forced to aid others for his own moral admission. She was only a few steps behind, able to pull on pyjama bottoms and his shirt at a much quicker pace than his own boots and jeans.
Shrugging on his leather vest and holding crossbow, Daryl raced down the hall to the continuous noises, knowing it was too late to help them all. Beth veered off to the panicked cries of baby Judith, knowing the attention was undesirable. He saw her go, silently relieved she wasn't headed toward greater danger.
Cell block D was gone. There was no doubt about it, you saw the smeared blood the battle between the undead and the dying and you knew there was no chance of rebuilding the memories of this being the new home. They should have known then, something was off, something made someone die. Stabbing walkers of people you knew was harder, perhaps that's why more casualties existed. Daryl picked off the threats, not looking at their sickly faces should he have strong memories of something they had done.
It was done. Rick and the other's had helped bursting in at the first signs of any problem, just like he had. But even that much hadn't been enough to stop the fallen from falling, and so the process was going to begin. Daryl didn't stay to help clear up, the weeping ceremonies made his nauseated in a way so different from how it started. When he saw his first walker's victim die, he had watched a little boy cry over his body, sobbing pathetically. The only thoughts he had then were pathetic pity and jealous that he would never cry over his father dying like that, in fact, he hoped he was dead. But now the cries got to him, made him think of the sheer number of people he had killed. Either alive or dead. And he barely cared to do it, that moral restrain seemed somehow lessened form the life lessons he had learnt, or the ones that he had missed.
There wasn't a breakfast or lunch in plan, not really. The routine was destroyed for their day- another thing that unsettled him. If they cut their way of life it was only an amount of time before the infrastructure fell apart. Rick needed to impose a ritualistic rigidity to this place if he hoped to control out breaks like this. Why was he blaming Rick?
Beth came out mid-afternoon a tray of steaming mugs for him and the other grave diggers. Her grim face tried small smiles at all the dirtied men, patting the arms of those who had lost close ones and passing out food to those so close to it themselves consolingly, he watched her walk around balancing it all perfectly. He hated seeing her have to be the unshaken one, but having not seen it at her father's insistence it was too much for her 'fragility of mind', Beth was the only one in a position to offer anyone any help. He wanted her to help him. Couldn't she see that?
But she did, and she did her bit to leave him last. Reaching him at the edge grave for the dozen they were digging a row away from Lori and T-Dog, she sat down cross legged, holding his mug of soup until he stopped. He might not stop, he didn't want to. He wanted these people to have their normality and get rid of the bodies so they didn't pose a threat. So instead, after eventually realising he wasn't slowing his pace, she offered him small sips between each scoop. Gratefully he looked at her little face, rosy cheeked from the sun where he was sweating and red-faced. Her hair was tied back as always and she waiting patiently for him to finish, not needing to say anything because simply being there in front of him made him feel like he could protect her better. She was there, and she was alive.
Returning to the prison with a tray of empty mugs, Beth sighed reluctant to go back inside, but her eyes were painful form the sunlight. Rick was pacing down the hallway, holding his head from the day's events. She couldn't blame him, now was not a good time to have so vast a number reliant on you. The strain was showing in every part of him face, he was lost and he was angry- but leaders don't get to have emotions until the danger has passed. She was going to slip past when he stopped her.
''Beth-'' his southern accent had gotten deeper, overuse and the dry air wrecking it to a gravelly tone she knew wasn't supposed to sound like a reprimanding teacher. She turned, still holding the tray with two hands, knuckles white with the emotion she had felt watching him for the last minute or so. She tried to smile at him nicely, wanting to give him some sort of shoulder and knowledge that she wasn't leaning on him right now to lift the burden.
''Thank you. Herschel told me you were found upstairs with Judith, that should've been my job-'' his voice was scratchier, dare she say with regret or guilt. The man really did take on too much.
''You did right by the people here,'' she hated how quiet she sounded, wanting to have that authoritative voice of her father or her sister. But forceful was difficult in this reclusive state of shock for them all. It was true though, and Beth didn't mind looking after Judy one iota, in fact she loved that child it hadn't registered to go to the others help at all. Did that make her selfish then?
''But not by my children.'' His voice was somehow sharp but slow, as if she was insulting him or he was doing it for her. His hand was back over his eyes, leaning against the concrete walls in pure despair. This word was a slow burning hell, she knew that but still the price was too high to give up, hope spurred them on. But hope faded sometimes and you had to go and find it, had to fall in love and meet new people. Hope was there for times like these.
''Where would we be if we only took care of our family? If my father had said that the day you arrived on our farm?'' Beth's voice grew stronger, forcing him to listen to her. Although she and Rick had been on rocky terms in the conflict of parenting, she couldn't leave him to think he was doing a bad job. His little girl was fed and not being fed-on, they were the only standards for a job well done nowadays.
When she walked off then, leaving quickly and he was almost totally dejected by the teenager, then she returned in a small jog-tray now gone. He looked at her and she grabbed his hands unexpectantly. Pulling rick in to library, small hand tight on his wrist and marching authoritatively, they made their way to the edge of the room. Here Beth let go, disappearing amongst the children quickly to mutter hellos. He just watched, this side of the room had been change entirely, having no reason to kickback in the school he never saw how wonderfully colourful Carol and Beth had made the space. Drawings and found posters littered the walls, squiggly and crooked crayon pictures like Carl used to give him for the fridge or his desk at work. Judith's childhood was going to be so different to her brothers, and he already felt he was losing his little boy to this place.
Beth came back over with Judith on her hip, the child snuggling into the girls shoulder happily. The blonde was comforting and warm, the nearest thing to a mother she would know, the nearest thing to a parent if he didn't start giving some Grimes time to both her and Carl. She handed him his baby, nestled her complaining head against his shoulder and stroked her hair until she settled to the idea of Rick holding her instead. Rick awkwardly fell back into his instincts, walking up and down the hallway outside the library talking nonsense to his little girl. He grew more and more relaxed, so Beth smirked, nodded at him and left.
It pained her to share the attentions of what she frankly saw as her baby, but she needed a father and after all Judith deserved to be loved as much as Herschel loved her. Sometimes she wondered what Judith was going to be, if she'd grow too quickly or loose the human sympathy for not having anyone show her the right ways to live.
Wandering aimlessly back, she realised there was nothing else to do. Her head felt full, like there were thoughts pushing to get out and the pressure was nearly blinding. The only problem was she didn't know what those thoughts were. Sitting down and holding her head in her hands, Beth tried to shake out thoughts and physically hold her head together. Perhaps it was a minute or an hour later when Maggie walked by ready to take over watch.
''Hey Beth,'' she saw her sister sitting on the floor, head in hands and the only thing that made sense was that she was upset over the events. Herschel was right that Beth was too sensitive. ''Sweetie, are you feeling okay? You know- emotionally?''
Beth looked up at her sister, eyes not focusing for a second. The look of pitiful unsureness was enough to simply annoy her. Beth never tended to snap at anyone, but some for some reason or another her temper was simply a click away. Standing up defiantly and realising how weak everyone saw her, Beth made a noise of total annoyance and stalked off unhappily down to the cell block. Maggie shouted something after her, then huffed off herself to complain and snitch to daddy as sisters do.
Herschel nodded at Maggie, realising they hadn't given Beth enough attention perhaps for the day. He felt she was too psychologically unstable, and despite everyone's arguments that he was mollycoddling, he was her father and he would force her to be alright again. She had to be, sunshine Beth Greene was never going to be allowed to turn into this scared woman, she had to be his baby.
The hallways were filled with shouting a few hours later. News had spread that the first deaths were caused by some freaky zombie carried virus, a flu like symptoms from the sounds of what the doctor was saying. Poor Patrick had no idea that he was dying when he fell asleep last night, no idea what havoc he would cause. It was so easy to lower your guard in this life, they all had to remember that. If it's quiet, something is coming. The coughing had only spread, symptoms developing so quickly that in itself was a problem. They could all have this sickness.
The shouting tuned out to be a fight between Rick, who already looked at the end of his tether, and tired. Some casualties had come to light, a man had died and two others murdered for having it. His advice sturdily was continuous quarantine, but there was little you could do about a flu, particularly one in such crowded spaces with little in the way of disinfectant. Once Tyresse stormed off, Herschel sat with rick, patting his back and giving the best wisdom that he could, praying silently.
Having given Beth the afternoon to nap and calm down, Hershel made his way to her cell. He would break the news of what's been happening to her in a way which would disrupt her too much, he already knew as soon as she cried he was ending the list of casualties for the day. A lot had happened. No one was safe.
Beth was in her cell, lying in bed little eyes closed with the same pout she always slept with as a toddler. She looked just as peaceful as then too, should you overlook the little droplets of sweat on her forehead. When she moaned Herschel took a step closer, heart breaking at her pallid complexion and shivering. He knew form years upon years of treating animals, and more recently humans, that Beth was sick- and-
Daryl was sat with Tyresse, sharing smokes and sneaky whiskey in the guard tower. The man had just stopped fuming and the only one not afraid was Daryl, go figure. They shouted at one another to vent it all out, understanding that that was what a heart broken man needed. All the raging wasn't going to bring her back, but for the moment it was going to mask the excruciating pain he would feel at her absence.
They headed back, the moon was high and it was probably midnight from the silence of the cell block. Rick was on the stairs rubbing the back of his neck and
''people are getting sick. We're putting them in quarantine-'' Rick looked exhausted, mentally and physically drained. He had lost a lot of the group, anyone n cell block d were checking themselves for symptoms, anyone not near the bodies should be safer. But there are no guarantees.
''Who?'' Tyresse was petrified of hearing his sister's name, it was too soon to lose her too.
''Lizzie, Jeanette, David and Beth-'' before he could add that dr. S was with them, Daryl was gone. He ran down the hallways winding and panicked until he was at the heavy door to death row. All the beginning in the world would do no good, but he tried anyway. His knuckles felt like falling off and the abuse he hurled at the door did nothing to open it.
Feeling pathetic and useless he gave up, crumbling to the ground be the danger, be the first in when that door opened. He didn't care about the risk, he needed to see her. Across the wall form where he was, huddled in a blanket Maggie forced upon his, Herschel Greene was sat waiting also.
''You here for my daughter, Dixon?''
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