Lost | Daryl Dixon

27 - A Week to Prepare

First Person POV

"Hey, Beth," I smiled gently as I joined her and Hershel in the room. She looked at me with a tired face, Hershel stayed by her, slowly stroking her arm in comfort. I walked over, grabbing her free hand as I looked over her - she was definitely coming out of the shock. "How are you doing, honey?"

Her hands were still a touch clammy, and her skin warm and pale - but not like before. "Fine," She whispered - a soft upturn of her lips out of politeness. My eyes washed over her as I saw the shell of the sweet girl who went from chatting my ear off to staying still, a sense of hopelessness radiating off of her.

"Her temperature is back to normal, and her heart is fine," Hershel told me as I grabbed the small penlight from the bedside table, gently lifting her chin and shining the light in her eyes. All normal signs. "Seems the worst is over."

I put my fingers to her pulse, waiting a moment before nodding. "I agree," I pulled a hand over her head, moving her soft, blonde curls from her eyes as I smiled. "You should rest, honey. Do you need anyone to stay and keep you company?"

She shook her hand, I nodded, keeping my hand there a moment before I rubbed her shoulder encouragingly, standing from the bed and offering a hand to Hershel to stand. He stayed there a moment longer, whispering something in her ear as tears welled in her eyes, not dropping as he stood as I helped him up. He exited the room first, holding the door for me and closing it as we heard soft crying - Hershel's face heartbroken. He took a few seconds, adjusting to the state, before looking at me. "I need to talk to you as well, separately."

"Am I in trouble?" I smiled, trying to break the thick pain of the house as I followed him down the stairs towards the kitchen. He shook his head, entering and leaning against the breakfast bar-looking section, looking exhausted. Without prompting, I quickly opened the fridge, pulling the first juice I saw and grabbing a glass from one of his cupboards, pouring it and handing it to him before placing the juice in it's position. He watched me inquisitively. I nodded my head towards the glass. "Your energy is low from the night, drink some sugar."

He almost chuckled, raising the glass and drinking it slowly; he looked older for a moment, as if the night had aged him, before he placed it back down and returned to his age. "I think we need to discuss where your group are stayin-"

"If you're wanting us to leave, we'll respect that. You deserve the peace." I interrupted, although browbeaten by the need for safety, time had passed out right to beg for a home. He raised his hand, shaking his head.

"Not what I mean," He looked at me carefully. "I think we should discuss you being moved closer to the house, and setting up actual roles around the farm. Winter's coming, and if you're all staying we need to begin preparing."

I folded my arms. "Why tell me? Why not Rick, or even Dale?" I stared at the man sincerely as he glanced out of the window, the sound of Rick and Shane returning from their journey out scouting for where we'd eventually drop off Randall. "I'm just the group nurse."

"You're not," He shook his head, slowly, before joining me at the other side of the breakfast table. "The bar proved that - Rick is no doubt the leader, but I've been watching you all for a while. That group would not survive without you helpin', now, what that means to me is I can come to either of you for group decisions easily - and seeing how you handled yourself in town, well, I think you should be involved in these conversations."

I bit skin at the edge of my lip as I listened carefully, shocked I was held in such high regard by the man. "Okay, I understand where you're coming from - but I still listen to Rick. He's my older brother, in a way he's always been my leader."