Zedler, M.D. // Daryl Dixon

Chapter Forty-Five: Cell Block C

•forty-five•

Beatrix

"Ya'll ever try to pull some shit like that with my girl again, I'll kill every last damn one of ya," Daryl yells as he leaves the guard tower with me right by his side.

"It worked though, didn't it?" Rick retorts.

"I'll kill ya," Daryl replies, pointing his knife at him. Rick holds his hands up defensively and backs up.

"Somebody needs to go get the others and the vehicles," Rick says, looking to the group.

"I'll go," I volunteer, looking at Daryl. He gives me that look, so I rephrase, "We'll go."

Rick nods, walking over to the main gate. He opens it up to let Daryl and me out and to let the rest of the group in. We stay silent as we walk together. Daryl has his crossbow raised, ready to attack at any moment. The short walk is silent, with nothing other than the sound of leaves and twigs crunching able to be heard.

"We're in," I smile at the ones waiting at the vehicles when we approach them. They all nod in response and each climb in a vehicle to drive it in the gates. I hop on the back of Daryl's bike, wrapping my arms around his waist as he drives us back to the prison.

//////////

My face is warm as I stare into the fire Merle built for us, everybody in the group except for Daryl gathering around it in a circle. Daryl is on edge; he has been ever since we got here. As hard as it is for him to believe, this place has huge potential. Sure, we will have to work hard, but it will be well worth it in the end when we finally have a safe place to call home.

"Bethy, sing us a song," Hershel breaks the silence.

"Oh, no, Daddy. Nobody wants to hear that," Beth mumbled in response.

"I do!" I pipe up. "Come on, Beth. We all know you're good."

"Okay," she smiles, giving in. She clears her throat before starting,

"Of all the money that e'er I had,

I spent it in good company

And all the harm that e'er I've ever done

Alas it was to none but me."

I close my eyes, soaking in the sweet noise of Beth singing. At some point, Maggie joins her, and the harmonies are beautiful. My mouth turns up in a smile as I sit and listen.

"Beautiful," Hershel comments once his girls finish their song. "Beatrix, can you sing?"

"Me?" I laugh, "Hell no. I sound like a chicken with its head cut off."

"I doubt that, Sugar Mama," Merle comments.

"You shouldn't," I retort, laughing.

After a few more minutes of sitting in silence, I start to feel uncomfortable. It's not the kind of calm silence anymore, but more of an awkward silence where nobody is sure of what's okay to say and what isn't. I decide to take Daryl something to eat, because if I don't, he won't eat. He won't come get something himself.

Grabbing a plate of meat, I walk over to the turned over school bus that Daryl's standing on top of. He turns around, hearing me walk up, and reaches his hand out to pull me up.

"You need to eat," I say, handing him the plate I brought. He pushes it away, shaking his head. "Daryl, I know you're on edge and you want to protect everyone, but you can't take care of anybody else unless you take care of yourself. You can't starve yourself; you need to eat."