Chapter Text
Beth didn’t like to think about dying. She tried not to, most days. She’d hoped it’d be quick, when she did think about it. It was hard not to, nowadays. And it was. Quick. She lunged, scissors sunk into flesh, and bullet entered brain. She died. Beth Greene was gone. Just as quickly, so was Dawn. Two bodies on the floor. Red blood pooling and staining the shiny white floors. Except Beth wasn’t a body. Not yet. A bullet entered skull, and exited it too, but her brain was missed. Gloriously, miraculously missed. The doctor said it hit her suborbital margin, the part of the skull where her eyebrow rested. Grazed her parietal lobe, the part of her brain that controls her senses, her spatial awareness. When she wakes up, if she wakes up, she’d have a long road to walk before she was fully healed. If such a thing was possible. Daryl said it would be. Not that Beth could hear him. She was stable. Comatose, but alive. Hooked up to wires and machines. She didn’t feel Noah’s hand, wrapped around her own. She didn’t hear Daryl’s shouting that she stay hooked up, that he didn’t give a damn about their resources. She wasn’t aware of Carols gentle brushing of her hair, Ricks impatience at being stuck here. She wasn’t aware of the time passing, the days that went by, any of it. And then she woke up. Noah was shouting. The noise of it made her head pound, and something was down her throat. There was some sort of bandage over half her face, and she couldn’t see out of her left eye. Her heart was pounding, and she reached up to pull whatever was in her mouth out. She needed it out, she couldn’t breathe. Noah pulled her arm away,
“Hey. Hey, hey hey. Beth, you gotta listen. Leave it in. You gotta leave it in, okay ?” He sounded panicked, and yelled for the doctor again. He pulled her arms away from her mouth and it hurt, everywhere. Her entire body. A strange pulsing numbness existed all over her right side. Tears flooded her good eye, and then she saw Carol, and Daryl too. Carols hand was gentle, brushing hair off her forehead, off the bandage, and Daryl was stood at the doorway, hollering for the doctor. Where was he? Beth pushed against Carols arm, the contact was confusing and difficult to process and painful. She didn’t want anyone to touch her, even to comfort her. She wanted this tube out of her throat. Dr. Edward’s ran in, finally. In a hurry, he raised her up to sitting, which hurt, and removed the tape around her mouth, which hurt, and finally took out the tube down her throat., which, of course, hurt. She sputtered, gagged and coughed. She tried to speak, but couldn’t find her voice.
“Take it easy, it can take a few days to find your voice after being intubated. The tube was down your throat, helping you breathe, so it’s normal for your throat to be sore. Just give it time.” Edward’s said. “Now, you had a little bit of brain damage, Beth, I know that sounds scary, but you’re still alive. It was minor, to the part of your brain that controls your senses. You might be experiencing numbness, probably on this side,” he gestured to her right. “that might last awhile. Nod if you understand me.” He said. So she did. “There’s also. Beth. There wasn’t anything we could do about the eye.” He said. So that was that then. She was alive. Partially blind and brain damaged, but alive. She tried to speak again, and Noah handed her a pen and paper. Quickly, she scrawled down one word. Daryl. She turned the paper over to Noah, and there he was. Towering over her, looking like shit. His hands danced, unsure where to settle. He reached for her, pulled his hands away, and then let them lay limply at his side.
“Yeah. What is it?” His voice was gruff, and he looked tired. He may not have slept since she got shot. He may not have slept since she was taken, or maybe since the prison fell. He probably hadn’t showered since then neither. She scribbled down her message for him, and watched his face careful as he read the words. did you miss me? He laughed, a sound that seemed to punch its way out of his throat against his will, and she thought he might start to cry, too.
“Yeah, kid. Yeah, real bad.” He ran his hand through his hair, and smiled down at her. He had a nice smile. The steady beeping that had been background noise picked up, and Beth realized it was a heart monitor. She was blushing when Dr. Edward’s stepped forward.
“Now, you’ve been unconscious for the better part of three days. You’ll still need plenty of rest. I think it’s best we keep visitors individual. One on one. Is that alright?” he asked. She nodded. Daryl took a step back, and Beth knew he was going to leave. She reached out to him, squeezed his hand tightly, before he did. She could barely feel it. Her hand might as well be empty, she couldn’t feel his heat, could barely process the weight of the thing in her hand. She hoped she didn’t squeeze too tightly. She wanted to say so much, she wanted to thank him. For looking after her when the prison fell, for not giving up on her when she disappeared, for not cutting his loses when she got shot in the head. There was so much to thank him for, and she couldn’t even talk. Couldn’t even feel his hand in her own. As Daryl and Carol left, Noah resumed his seat next to her bedside. Beth turned back to her paper. What happened ? she wrote. Noah sighed, and recounted the events of the past few days. The hospital people laying down their weapons when Dawn fell, Daryl’s pleas to them to help her, How few of the staff wanted to even try. Noah convinced Dr. Edward’s, but no one had been confident she’d ever wake up. More than once Daryl and Carol had to convince the doctor to keep trying, and Rick, too. She couldn’t blame the man for giving up on her. He had his own children to get back to. And she wasn’t exactly going to be able to pull her own weight. At least before she’d been a half decent shot, in emergencies. Now she might not ever be able to shoot a gun again. A complete burden. But Daryl had convinced them. Beth would have to thank him for that as well. He saved her. He well and truly saved her. She’d never stop owing him for this. And the thing about Daryl was he wouldn’t even try to collect on it. He wouldn’t dangle it over her head or guilt her about it or nothing. He didn’t do it because she was useful or because he wanted something out of her, he just knew what was right. He was good like that. She remembered even when he first showed up at the farm. The urgency with which he looked for that little girl. Even when everyone else had given up. She supposed he’d done it again. Lucky for her, the results were different this time. Just barely. She was glad Noah was here, too. He was good company. He talked, told her all about the less consequential going-ons since she’d been unconscious. He got along well with Carol, and Daryl was surly, but he’d gathered that that’s just how he was. Rick was… intimidating. They didn’t talk much, Noah and Rick. He told her about how he’d found Daryl and Carol, successfully disarmed them, (she’d told him that that was quite an accomplishment.), How they had found him again, almost left him crushed under a bookcase for a walker to get at, but didn’t. He recounted how Carol had been hit by a car and taken away. They’d been on some adventure, getting back to her. They played tic tac toe on her paper, and he didn’t complain when Beth put her X outside the board. She was half blind now, after all. And her coordination was all off, due to the brain damage. She was sure he let her win. Eventually, Dr. Edward’s came back in, sent Noah away, to do some tests. She could see Daryl hovering in the hall outside, standing guard, assumedly. Making sure there wasn’t no funny business. She trusts Edwards, but still. It was a comforting thought. She’d wished for Daryl about a million times since they got separated. Once she got her voice back she’d have to tell him about Gordon, and how she took care of that problem. He’d be proud of her, she bets. Taking care of herself. The tests Edwards runs seem pretty simple. ‘reach for this pen’, ‘remember these words’, ‘can you feel when I do this?’. Her depth perception is off, but her memory is in tact. The sensation in her body is… odd, to say the least. A single point touch on her right arm registers as more general, kind of all over. Like a blanket instead of a poke. He explains that hopefully, but not definitely, that will pass. The human brain is a delicate and resilient thing. It won’t ever heal what’s been damaged, but it might be able to reassign the job to somewhere else. Neuroplasticity, he said. As soon as he was done, Daryl was in the room.
“so, how you feelin, kid ?” he asked. Instead of writing a reply, she gave a thumbs up, and smiled. He sat next to her, where Noah had been, picked up the pages of tic tac toe they’d played, and waved them around.
“He’s keepin you busy, huh ?” She smiled, nodded, and found her pen.
Boring in here. He scoffed, and laughed.
“recoverin from a shot head is boring you, girl ? you’re lucky.”
Not luck. all you. she wrote.
“nah, I just found you. You’re the one who made it.” he looked away from her as he said it, eyes falling into his lap.
cuz you made them help.
“Was their idiot boss who shot you. S’only right.”
you’re the luckiest thing that’s ever happened to me, Daryl Dixon.
“Cut that sappy shit out.” he said. He still won’t look at her. She tapped her pen on the statement again. tap tap tap, right on his name, emphasizing the importance of it. He reached out and took the pen, right out of her hand.
“losin your voice is lucky, now I can shut you up real easy.” He waggled it in front of her, just out of reach. She turned to her bedside table and grabbed another. She had several right close. Instead of writing, though, she just stuck out her tongue and blew. He smiled, and looked at her again. There was something sad in his eyes, even as he laughed at her.
Judith ? she wrote down. Blowing raspberries always made her laugh.
“yeah, she’s fine. Tyrese had her. She’s good. Carl, too. We’ve found pretty much everybody. Even picked some people up, some new guys.” He explained. Beth was relieved. Even if she could never shoot a gun again, she’d be able to help out. Judith was her job, and if something happened to her, that sweet chubby little baby, Beth didn’t know she’d make it much longer. Maggie must be ok, and Glenn, if Daryl hasn’t said nothing. and New people. That was interesting.
New people ? are they cool ?
“Ain’t sure. Glenn found a whole bunch of em, some military looking goon, claims he’s takin a scientist to Washington. Whole thing stinks to me. No scientist with a mullets saving the damn world.”
Washington ? Scientist ? Saving the world ??
“What he says. Claims he knows why it all started and how to end it. I’ll believe it when I see it.”
back to normal.
”Don’t get your hopes up kid. Don’t go askin nobody to the prom, alright. You should get some rest.” He stood up as he said it. She grabbed his arm, pulled him back to stay.
thank you Daryl she scribbled out. He just made a quick humming noise in return. He wouldn’t even accept her thanks. He was gonna have to hear it, when she got her voice back.
Beth was clumsy now. She wasn’t the most graceful to begin with, but her awareness of her body had definitely been affected. Her hips and knees and elbows were bruised, and it seemed they’d stay that way for the coming weeks. She was okay to walk, but between her changed depth perception and her inability to tell quite where she was in space, trips and bumps and falls were becoming daily occurrences. Carol was worried. Beth knew what she was thinking. What Rick was probably thinking, too. She’d never survive like this. What’s to stop her from walking right into a walkers path if she can’t tell where her own body is. If you’d asked her at the prison she probably would’ve agreed. But her time with Daryl, and then her time on her own, too, Beth had learned something very important about herself. She could survive. She got shot in the head and she made it out the other side, and she wasn’t gonna let that be for nothing. Her daddy had believed in God, and his plan. Beth had had her doubts, her crisis of faith, but… everything that’s happened. It had to have a reason. She remembered how she felt back at the farm, when she’d slit her wrist. How scared she’d been. First of living and then of dying. She knew what she wanted after that, and doubly so now. She wanted to live. So she would. It was that simple for Maggie and Carol and Rick. It would be for her, too. She’d learn to walk straight again, figure out how to work a gun with just the one eye. She’d get better. It took time. Lots of practice, but now, with either Daryl or Noah on her left side, she could walk almost entirely unassisted. The bandage had come off, and been replaced with an eye patch, which Beth was trying hard not to let bother her. She survived, what did it matter if she wasn’t as pretty to look at anymore. It didn’t matter. It didn’t. She didn’t want men looking at her anyway. This new world was a dangerous place for a pretty woman, and even before everything happened, men had scared her witless. So the eyepatch didn’t matter. She didn’t notice how Daryl’s eyes found her when he thought she wasn’t looking, and she didn’t notice that they left just as quickly. Or the sick look he always wore after looking. She didn’t notice that she was disgusting to him. Nor did she care. Noah at least had the decency to try and look her in the eye when they talked. She hoped it made her look tougher. The Governor had worn an eyepatch. He was an asshole, but he had been intimidating. Maybe she should cut her hair short, like Carols. She’d always been proud of her hair, long and blonde and healthy. But now long hair meant getting caught or grabbed, and the color of hair was so often obscured by blood or dirt or some horrid mixture of both, and nothing was healthy anymore, anyway.