I am done mourning for Beth's death… I will continue her story here :P

This is, of course, Beth and Daryl centered. But there will be parts/paragraphs that focuses on the other members of Team Prison.

Thank you for all the reviews and support everyone! I'm glad we feel the same! I know her death wasn't truly about the shipping wars… I was being a little bitter. I apologize for that. I just hope everyone can get along now!

Enjoy!

Redemption
[Rooftop]

The wards in their grey-blue scrubs went out of their way to pass trays of food to his people. They had a grim but celebratory air around them—especially the women. Whenever they caught each other's glances, they would smile with relief and nod. Then they would look away, replacing the smile with a stoic, emotionless stare. Something must've happened here that made them like this—detached and uncaring to strangers. The women especially, they would keep their heads down as they walked past his family. Whatever happened here, it seemed as if no one wants to bring it to the light.

Shepard, the lady cop offered his group several vacant rooms. Daryl supposed she was the replacement for Dawn. He couldn't put his tongue on it; there was something odd about her too. Fuck. Everyone here seems downright crazy. Then again, his group isn't all that much better.

The kid, Noah started to pass trays of food to the group. They had the comfort of the hospital beds to rest on, but they refused. At least for now. Everyone was worried, anxious about Beth's outcome. Rick didn't want the group to be separated; after all… there is strength in numbers.

He kept hawkeyes on the young Noah as he approach them with the metal trolly with two remaining plates of food.

"Here," he offered the first tray to Rick. "It's not the best tasting, but it's food."

Rick accepted the tray, tilting his head forward as a nod of gratitude.

"I ain't hungry," Daryl all but growled when Noah offered him his own tray. He had too much on his mind to eat. If Beth died… if she died, it would be his fault. She was under his care before she was kidnapped. Like Sophia… if Beth died… he wouldn't even know how to cope with his incompetence of protecting his own.

"You have to eat something. Here," Noah shoved the tray of food towards Daryl, some of the contents in one of the cups splattered across the tray.

He ignored the kid and continued to chew at the tip of his thumb, oblivious to Noah's angered expression. He didn't bother to pay him any attention until the boy slammed the tray down onto the metal trolly—the ear ringing clatter froze everyone mid-action.

"Why are you all acting as if she's dead? Pouting ain't going to save her. There's nothing you can do. And you know what? If she was here—if Beth was here with us, right now, she would want you to eat! She would want you to move on! Because that's who she is!"

"Boy," Daryl snarled, "You best be keepin' your mouth shut 'round me. I ain't in the mood to listen to your kiddy tantrums." He rose onto his feet in a flash and snatched Noah's shirt into his fists, staring down at him. He ignored Tyreese's comment to stop and leave the boy alone. He couldn't. There was so much anger in him—it was too hard to control.

"I'm not the one who is sulking, acting like she's dead. She ain't dead. Dr. Edwards is in there trying to save her. And even if she did go, she would want us to send her off with smiles—not tears!" Noah in return, mimicked Daryl's actions and gripped the older man's vests in his fists, not backing down.

"How the hell would you know, huh? You barely fucking know her—," He had every mind to land a punch in the kid's jaw but then he was cut off by Noah's rueful words.

"Because she did that for me, man. We—we tried to escape once. I shouldn't have made it. She could've left me behind and let them rotters get me, but she didn't. She didn't. She slowed herself down by killing the rotters—for me! When I got to the other side of the fence, and I looked back—she didn't cry, scream, shout. She smiled at me man," by now, large tears shimmered at the corner of his eyes, threatening to fall. "She smiled at me. She… she was glad I got away. She… she's like this… because of me. If I just stayed with Dawn… if I just kept my ass here…"

Daryl released his grip on the young man's shirt—his anger simmered down to guilt. As soon as he did so, Noah crumpled onto the floor, propping one arm on top of his knee and sobbed silently.

"I just wanted to see my family again… I… She's in there because of me."

The hall made not a sound as Daryl stalked off again, eager to escape from the prying eyes of the remaining members of his family.

-0-

"She's out now," Daryl turned when he heard Glenn's voice behind him. Quite frankly, he didn't even hear the guy approach him.

"Yeah? How's she doing?" Glenn didn't look like he was bearing bad news—his shoulders were relaxed, his face calm. There was always something about this guy that made him feel comfortable around. Glenn is family—a trusted friend. Maybe that's the trick he was using. Maybe, Beth…

"She's sleeping. Sort of. The doctor said he did all he could for her, but she lost a lot of blood. He said that bullet fractured the collarbone on her right side, and most likely ruptured the subclavian artery. She lost a lot of blood man… he thinks she's going to need some more if she doesn't show signs of improvement by the week. But… he's out."

A vice like grip clamped onto his heart at the news of her impending death. He stumbled a step back as he felt the weight of a thousand bricks plop onto his shoulders. There was no way that the blood bank or any other places that stored blood would have well kept, non-clotted blood. It had been too long.

"What if we donate ours?"

"Too risky he said. Without the proper equipment here, he said there was too high of a chance of her reacting to it without testing it properly," Glenn walked up against the ledge and leaned against it while staring into the sun set. "He did all he could, Daryl. She's alive. Barely, but she's strong—remember? She'll make it. You just need a little faith."

Daryl smirked at his comment out of reflex, "You're startin' to sound like her."

Glenn shrugged, "She has come a long way. Back two years ago at the farm, she tried to kill herself, remember? Now, the fact that she's not gone yet, I know without a doubt she is fighting to stay alive. We can't lose hope. We have to believe she'll overcome this."

Daryl nodded in agreement. "Yeah, she ain't a little girl no more."

"You can go see her if you want. Everyone's been in there already 'cept you. Even Noah… and the cleaning lady… maybe some dust bunnies have gathered since the time the last person visited her."

"Are you tryin' to guilt-trip me?" Daryl griped, frowning at the black-haired male.

Glenn laughed, "Lighten up, Daryl." He patted Daryl's shoulder in a brotherly gesture. "She's alive. By some miracle, she wasn't shot in the head. Even then, I think Dr. Edwards could've saved her. Shoot, Carol said he saved her—and she was hit by a car twice."

Daryl nodded, both relieved and anxious at the same time. Glenn's right—Beth is alive for now. And if by chance she could hear him while she's laying there… he's got a few words to say to her. He looked up at Glenn, almost as if he was asking him for permission to go see her. After all, he is her brother.

Glenn caught it, to Daryl's great relief. He nodded his head at the rooftop door, "Go."

With a step, then another, and then another, Daryl made his way to Beth with words stuck in his throat. In all honesty, he didn't care if he wouldn't be able to say a word to her. All he wanted was to catch a glimpse of her face. Maybe, just maybe then, the guilt of letting her out of his sight would lighten up.

After all, it was he that opened the funeral door without checking. It was he that told her to go outside without him. It was he that lost the tracks of the car. He had given up too early. He had been too slow. If only he was faster. If only he checked before he opened the damn door. There was so much guilt, so much anger and regret. He truly believed, all of that can go away only—if only she would wake up and tell him 'I'm okay.'

He saw Maggie step out from one of the doors in the hall; he approached her with silent steps. He had every mind to ask her for her permission to see Beth. Just as this was difficult for him to bear, he imagined it to be just a fraction of what Maggie may be feeling at this point in time.

"Go ahead," Maggie stepped aside to unblock the door, nose red and voice nasally. "She's still sleeping."

Daryl nodded and slipped into the room, and froze in his steps half way at the sight of Beth with a breathing mask covering her face. She looked so pale, so thin… so fragile. The stitched up cuts on her cheek and forehead were covered with bandages. Her arms laid above the blanket, her right wrist still had the cast on.

Slowly, step by painful step, he made his way to her bedside. God, she looked even paler up close. Her lips appeared almost blue from the lack of blood in her. He couldn't fight the tears that gathered in his eyes. He couldn't fight the soft sob that escaped his lips.

All of this, all of her suffering—he felt responsible for it. He was the last one that was with her. He should've been able to protect her. If only things had gone differently, they may still be at the funeral home now. He could've been listening to her soft voice as she sang to him like a songbird. He would let her hold his hand every time they passed by the tombstone that said "Beloved Father." He would have told her by now what he wanted to say before he made the mistake of opening that door.

Sniffling, Daryl reached over the bed and grasped her limp left hand in his. It wasn't cold, but warm—as it should be. Glenn's words from the rooftop replayed in his head again. He was right. Beth Greene is a fighter. If she wasn't, there was no way she would be here still.

He let out a small sigh and stared deeply at her face, almost appearing lost in a trance.

"Beth, if you can hear me… come back to us," he said softly while stroking the back of her hand, his voice heavy with emotion. "We're all waitin' for you. Maggie… Glenn… Rick… Judith… me… We're all here for you. So don't you dare stop fightin', you hear? We're all dying to hear you sing again. Come back to us, Beth. Come back to us, lil' songbird."

He felt a featherlike caress from her fingers of her hand that he held onto. His steel colored eyes glanced at her pale hand as it twitched briefly in his hand. With a gasp, he called out her name.

"Beth," he hovered over her.

Her eyes fluttered open for the briefest of seconds, a small smile graced her pale lips before it all disappeared. Her eyes shut once more, the smile fell from her lips, her hand stopped all movements.

His heart hammered so loudly in his chest he could hear his blood pounding in his ears. It was difficult to process what just had happened. It was almost as if Beth was trying to reassure him—trying to tell him she wouldn't stop fighting to come back.

Daryl let out an incredulous chuckle, almost in disbelief that she had regained consciousness for the briefest of moments.

Glenn and Maggie must've heard him from the hallway. They burst the doorway with an eager and anxious look on their faces.

"Did she wake up?"

"What happened?" They said in unison.

Not once disconnecting his hand with hers, Daryl looked up. For the first time in many days, a small but genuine smile spread across his face. "I reckon… she's gonna be just fine."

/

JR - Woohoo :) Keep fighting Beth! So, honestly, I feel that Daryl held himself responsible for her injury. Had she not died in the MSF, but injured instead, this is what I thought how he would be acting/thinking.

Also, I saw somewhere, once upon a time ago that he called her songbird in a story. Can't remember which, I hope it's okay that I use it too.

So I won't be updating Take Me as I Am for a while. I'll most likely focus on this one and Sweet Georgia Peach. It's been crazy here, and still is. I'll definitely update when I can!

Thanks for reading, leave a review!