Herschel watched Glenn rub small circles on the sweaty blonde's back, he knew that Beth was finally breaking her streak of just sleeping. She coughed weakly, making a small moaning noise.
Beth's mind was reeling. Something told her that her body was in shut down mode, and for the first time the closeness to her death really panicked her. There was no control here, both times that she had held the knife herself she was able to stop and hold on the bleeding wrist. Walkers were a death sentence too, but no one had let her get close to them, except Daryl- but what danger was there was Daryl Dixon was around? Her heart fluttered at the thought of him, how it wasn't enough yet. She wanted to do so much more with him, hold him and make him believe that she was there forever.
He would care if she died. That much was obvious to the general population, after all no one else jumped at the chance to protect her and help her do anything. If she made it through this there was no way, none at all that she wouldn't say 'fuck you' to the prison and make their relationship work.
Beth's lungs and head seemed to fare better than the others. After another two days she was sat up out of delirium back to simply being sweaty and cold at the same time. The turn of the fever from fatality gave a renewed hope to the rest of the prison. Rumour soon spread that Hershel thought she was going to make it, fingers crossed. Somewhere the vaccinations needed to help out in the veterinary clinic of her fathers helped play a role, but also her extreme stubbornness in dealing with death.
Nearly losing your child twice in a short space, in a world where time is no more guaranteed, seemed to take its toll on Hershel, he kept giving all he had to give and a week later five of them were admitted back into the prison. Beth, Glenn, Lizzie, Sasha, Herschel. Fifteen others hadn't made it. Showers and food before more bed rest let family members and friends come in and say what they needed. The elderly man sat back in his own bed and shut his eyes. He knew somewhere Maggie was crying and hugging Glenn and her sister, and the redneck was already probably slipping into the cell of his brave star patient.
Daryl knocked lightly on the bar, not wanting to wake the needed rest of the sick. With a murmur of acknowledgment he stepped round the covering sheet of the cell, careful brushing back in place after him as he shuffled foot to foot awkwardly. He wasn't used to this type of conformation, or at least any in which the predominant action wasn't shouting loudly at the other conversationalist and trying to punch them. The bible was closed slowly, piercing Greene eyes watching unblinkingly as the shaky white hand placed the Lord's book on the small table next to the bed.
''What can I do for you, Daryl?'' Hershel looked over his nose at the one man he hadn't expected to see willingly in his cell.
''I- uh, permission? To see Beth-please?'' His voice was soft, growling slightly and his arm twitched. Herschel had seen some things in his day, but this was unexpected. Dixon taking the initiative to approach this as a confident man not just a flippant love interest of his daughter.
Perhaps it meant more knowing how Daryl had struggled to not break down the door to death row, how he had seen the hunter break down at the loss of Beth. The very idea of losing her, and his reaction to such a fate with resolute brokenness told Hershel he had been wrong about the intentions of this man. His daughter wasn't a puppet, she was the puppeteer behind the whole charade. The truth hurt in a way he didn't expect, having to accept your child was willing to throw it all away and maim themselves in away was tougher than forgiving them for being led astray. Daryl was innocent, at least of all thing but his ignorance of being led around like a prize bull by a slip of a girl.
''If you hurt her just once, I won't restrain Maggie.'' Herschel smiled at Daryl's shocked face, knowing the threat and implication of his words was hidden in plain sight. Daryl wasn't allowed space to fuck this up, and he could respect that. With a quick nod he turned and walked quickly out the cell. Herschel chucked to himself knowing how the seconds were most likely like bullets to Daryl's mounting anticipation.
In fact the moment of breaking his long awaited chance to see her was all but marred by his rush. Not knocking to enter her cell, Daryl Dixon walked into the solitude and softly lit warmth of Beth's cell to find her standing topless, a downy towel in one hand and droplets of her cold shower still clinging to her chest. Her red lips parted in a breathy gasp and he ran into the door frame in his rush to turn around and leave.
The red cheeks were nothing to the embarrassment of her now pulling him to her bed. Beth Greene flicked into her nurse mode, mothering him gently she lifted his gaze to check the already purpling lump on his forehead. But he couldn't find it in him to mind, let alone to move. The manly-man part of him struggled impossibly with the gentleman to keep his gaze in neutral location, with what choice there was. So he settled on her legs, not her chest. Her small pyjama-short clad legs, all long and mesmerising in creamy paleness- an expanse of open flesh he wanted to touch, just there he could- oh shit, eyes up. Oh fuck, eyes back down.
Her fingers graced his skin lightly, enough to make him wince at the light pressure and the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up from her proximity. Beth was here, Beth was alive. He sighed heavily at the thought, closing his eyes merely at the contentment he had. His heart finally seemed to slow down, the adrenaline more or less crashing. With his shoulders slumping she pushed him invitingly back, a move he was too weak to protest against. She tugged on a top as he lazily kicked off his boots so that he could edge across to the wall so she could join him.
Nothing on the earth could have prepared him for having her lithe little body pressed against him once again, he radiating warmth and general softness the physical equivalent of what her sile did to him. His mind was comprehending crying for some mad reason, and her need seemed no less desperate as small hands dug deftly into his shirt.
Once upon a time she had asked this man for help, not understandinf what it was she was going get from asking. In the same world he had agrred, not even thinking about the possibilities of her salvation making it all seem vaguely bearable. And then he checked out, and then she almost dies, what else was there to say? If it wasn't fate then her body wouldn't be the matching puzzle piece to his.
Here is ying, and here is yang. Here is the ying in the yang, and here is the yang in the ying.
Here is the redneck biker, and here is the god-fearing angel. Here is honour in the biker, and here is the depression in the angel.
Beth breathed, trying to find a way to voice the collection of locked away thoughts she needed him to know. It was all too fragile and precarious to not risk this in her life, and if she died now she was dying with all thoughts off her chest and no regrets at all. She lay down next to him, her head resting near his, her shoulders higher though from her petite frame. The feel of the worn sheets of her own bed were still alien and luxurious against her bare skin.
''It used to be a comfort to think I would die soon, that the pain could be over and nothingness would take me away. I wasn't afraid, I-I there was no fear in thinking about doing it, none at all-please, just listen-'' she held his hand lightly, her voice attached remotely in a way too practical for the topic matter. ''I was ready to go those months ago, and no one was going to understand that, no one but you-''
''I regret it, saying I'd help you- should've gone to Herschel and helped you to change your mind.'' Daryl struggled to keep his voice quiet and steady, his hands over his face in an outburst of emotion. How could she say this? Those months for him had been hell, getting so close to her to only know he was nearer to her being gone. The fighting with himself lying in bed and the weight of the guilt. Rick and Hershel had both lamented it enough, he hadn't handled the situation properly.
And this was the bit that hurt. More than the intense fear that wracked her bod thinking she was going to die, the pained expression on his face made her feel like she was clubbing baby seals for kicks. And here was no definitive this is for the best, but she could imagine that he would want to know, even if his brain had to take few days catching up.
''No,'' her voice was still soft, but urgent now as if she knew his thoughts, ''you did change my mind. But not by babying me, it was my choice and you gave that to me. I-did I ever say thank you? Well, thank you, Daryl. You made me feel like a person again, not some child they can control.''
As if to prove her point he felt her soft lips press against his shoulder, burning hot and full of the emotion she never told him about.
''You won't change your mind again?'' He was hoarse, fear totally gripping him in a way he wasn't used to experiencing. It was the bump on his head, it simply must be that. Her hand found his, entwining the fingers gently and squeezing to let him know she was here.
''I woke up some time a few days ago, convinced I wasn't going to make ti-'' she felt him tense his hand squeezing back so that her hand twitched in mild pain, ''-and I was so scared. I thought that was it and I knew I was different to the girl you left chocolate for.''
''I was scared too.'' The words didn't seem enough. Not for her. He wanted to tell her how he had barely eaten, paced back and forth for hours outside death row, everybody they brought out he double checked to make sure it wasn't her. He was in hell, those days of endless torture and agony at thinking the possible worst. She didn't know that, but she could in her own way read it in his face.
Soft butterfly kisses graced his cheeks. They were a matching pair for sore eyes, exhausted from the illness and holding back tears to be strong for the other. He felt her cold wet hair against his neck and cheeks, but it was some relief from the warm inside of the prison. He would take anything of her right now, even the unseasonal chill of dripping hair and lethargic movements.
Realising that she was the sick person here he moved across letting her curl up against his side and pulling the cheek over her, clumsily tucking her in though it wasn't something which he hadn't had much practice in. His lips hit her forehead just a tad too aggressively for her goodnight kiss, but the smile still lit up his insides like some fucking Christmas tree. He shuffled down to stare her in the face, resting an arm possessively over her hip so she couldn't slip away from him at any time.
After moments staring, the two closed their eyes, letting the fatigue of the whole events take over their bodies and gave into the close proximity of sleep.