She sits outside in the passageway with Maggie and Glenn. She hadn't allowed herself any time to wallow. They don't get to do that. She'd locked the gate, good and tight, like she was told and then flung herself through the door after them, ran down the hall only to find the infirmary closed and her sister and Glenn lingering near some fold-out chairs, faces strained, eyes a little too wild.
Abraham is inside bellyaching about something or other and she hears snatches of Rick's voice and then suddenly the door opens and the two of them come out, Abraham not acknowledging any of them as he stalks away in the direction of the canteen.
She ignores him.
He's always uptight about something
"Ain't nothing we can do now until Bob stitches him up," Rick says, putting a hand on her shoulder. "It's bad, sliced his arm open real good, wrist to elbow almost."
She nods, touches his hand with her own and is surprised when she feels him press a kiss to her cheek. Rick knows, she doesn't have to wonder how. He knows Daryl better than any of them and while she doubts the two of them sit around talking about their feelings and stuff, it seems that Daryl let something slip. Because there's no doubt in her mind in that moment that she could ask Rick how Daryl feels about her and he'd be able to give her an accurate answer. She doesn't want to though. She doesn't want second hand information.
Not about that.
"He's tough though. Toughest son of a bitch I know," Rick continues, and it sounds like he trying to convince himself as he sits down on the floor. She gives him a wan smile.
He's wrong though. Her dad was the toughest son of a bitch any of them ever knew. Even Daryl knew that.
"Bethy?" Maggie asks gently. "Why don't you come help me with the..."
Her voice trails off as their eyes meet and she shifts down next to Beth linking their hands.
"It's ok," she says. "Glenn and I will sit here with you and wait."
And they do, Maggie smoothing her hair, Glenn fetching tea and sitting with Rick, just as if it were a real hospital.
Beth's grateful. Grateful that Maggie understands, even if she really doesn't. Even if she doesn't really get how Daryl means something different to her than he does to everyone else. They haven't spoken about this, the two of them. Mainly because there's not much Beth can say right now. Maggie knows they bonded. Maggie knows they share a connection that's somehow private, somehow elevated. But Beth doesn't think Maggie really knows. Really gets how either she or Daryl feel about each other. That's ok because she's not that sure herself and neither is he. But no, she hasn't told Maggie about last night by the fence, last night when his fingers dug into her flesh and she all but whimpered under the roughness of his hands. Or yesterday when her heart missed a beat as his thumb ran over her lips.
She shakes her head. Stop it Beth. This isn't the time.
Something smashes inside and she grips Maggie's hand even tighter. Then she hears Daryl's voice - motherfucking cocksucker fuck - and she can't help but share a small smile with her sister. At least he still has his way with words.
It's then that Sasha opens the door, she's exasperated, blood on her shirt, hair messy, a sheen of sweat on her skin.
"Beth, can you come in here for a while?"
She's already standing, dropping Maggie's hand and wordlessly following Sasha inside where the coppery smell of blood and the paleness of Daryl's face as he sits on the edge of a sleeper couch, makes her want to gag and weep at the same time.
