Follow You Down - Bethyl Fanfiction

Not Quite Solitary

Healin' was a bitch. Daryl hated every second his body took from him and with such little pay off. His body had taken his time, his strength, his freedom and even his cell. 

After about week of solitary confinement the group could tell Daryl was about two days away from dragging himself down the stairs on his stomach to see anything that wasn't the underside of the top bunk. Although he didn't mind the view as much when the mattress sank under the slight weight of a certain visitor. Nonetheless, they could tell he was beyond done with his room and being stuck. The solution? He was moved down to a ground floor cell and Hershel's wheelchair had come out of storage. That was the compromise. Freedom - so long as he was being wheeled around. Pathetic. Dr S had claimed he wouldn't be strong enough and even if he was, he would be unstable on legs that had been horizontal for so long, meaning he could fall and ruin the healing that had taken so long already.

Being in the damn chair was still better than stuck in the bunk. Carol had taken it upon herself to be his chaperone for the majority of the time. He was fine with that until she refused to take him places; like the fence or to the farm that Hershel an Rick had been working so hard on. He had been seeing less of Beth too. Hershel had her working with her horses all day every day in the heat, training them for runs. When he did see her in the late afternoons, after a full day of work, she walked in grimy and clearly exhausted. Daryl could see the drops of sweat on her forehead and the damp patches on her shirt. He could see the dust on her palms and the heavy rise and fall of her chest as if she had jumped off Cash's back and ran straight inside. He could see the tangles in her hair and the way a full day of riding made her hips swing when she walked. And then he would mentally chastise himself and turn to look away before her large eyes caught his and she gave him that impossible smile that he wouldn't return - refusing to allow her kindness to seep into him in his weak state. 

But it wasn't much of a fight. Beth would go to him always and place a gentle hand on his shoulder. The warmth and smell of her day that radiated off her engulfed him and his shoulder melted into her touch. Without noticing, Daryl would lean into her hand which only prompted her to squeeze him gently. She would talk to the table where Daryl would be joined by Rick, Glenn, Sacha and occasionally Michonne. After catching up with everyone Beth would turn to Daryl and ask him how he was feelin' and what his pain level was, whatever that meant. Daryl would grunt to her in response. That was all she needed.

Often she would visit him in the evenings, when everyone had gone to bed. She would have showered and he hair would be damp and loose, not in it's usual pony tail. She would be in pyjama's and socks, padding over to his new cell and she would lean around the bars like they were a real door and would smile at him as he allowed her into his cell and into his mind. Beth would lean over him and check his chest, remarking on how much better it looked even though it looked the damn same. She would then clamber to the end of his bed, stretching her legs in front of her and she would talk. Daryl would listen. Sometimes he would get an insight into her life and the way her mind worked. Sometimes it was just waffle. But all of it was good. He often found his hand resting on her ankle, thumb tracing her joints as she spoke. Some nights she asked him questions and he found himself being honest and telling her stuff he hadn't told any one. But it fell out of him like it was spewing from his wound and Beth always kept her eyes on him as he spoke, reading what he didn't say by studying his face.

The night would eventually claim them both, clawing Beth from him for another day. She would reluctantly climb off the bed and he would grab her hand and hold it to his chest for a moment and she would let him silently hold her there. Then she would be gone. But some nights she would be too tired to go back to her cell. Some nights, when Daryl managed to keep her up to the point of her head tipping back against the bed frame and had to be shaken awake by the ankle, she would give up and climb to the bunk above his and he got to listen to her quiet breathing as she sank into sleep. 

One night, they had talked for so long Daryl was certain it must have been the early hours of the morning. Beth's head had dropped a few minutes ago and Daryl could barely see her face through her almost-dry hair. He gingerly clutched her ankle to see if she would wake, but there was no reaction. Wincing at the strain on his chest, Daryl shuffled towards her enough to reach her shoulder and gently shake her. She made a small noise and looked at him through half closed eyes.

"Hmm?" She mumbled.
"You need ta' sleep, Beth." He said quietly, almost a whisper. She nodded to him and he moved back to lay down again and give her room to climb out. But she didn't. Beth rolled forward onto her hands and knees and crawled to Daryl's side, between him and the wall. She sank herself into his open arm and started breathing the same way she did in the bunk above him. Daryl eventually let himself unfreeze and wound his arm around to rest on her waist as she curled into him. His own eyes closed. Sleep came to him slowly, mind letting him savour the feeling of Beth laying next to him, warm and content. Yeah, healin' was a bitch, but it had its silver linin'.

Hello! Thank you for sticking with me on this! I loved writing from Daryl's perspective. I was worried how this would turn out but once again it fell out of me once I had started. Please let me know what you think as always. See you in the next one!