She always liked to run. Usually she ran in the woods on the east side of the farm with the sun fading to rest behind her. The well-worn path, evidence of her tenacity, was now grown over as opportunistic weeds sprouted and flourished uninhibited. The dead had been rising to walk again for over a year now, and Beth had been on lockdown for nearly as long. Since the motley crew of survivors, led by the weathered sheriff showed up, she had tiptoed around her home as if it belonged to someone else. They were a rough and tumble bunch, and Daddy was leery, but Beth was learning to trust the rugged confidence of the group's leader. It was his right hand man that had her looking over her shoulder and sticking close to the house. Shane Walsh was an intimidating figure of a man, no doubt. His angular nose and sharp chin made him look more like a Greek statue than a man, but it was his eyes that set Beth on edge. They were deceptively doe like, dancing when he flirted, cold and menacing when no one was paying attention. He was the reason Beth kept close to the house, until one afternoon, she didn't.

Jimmy had been pushing for more than Beth was ready to give. He said the world was ending. This could be their last chance. When the begging didn't work, desperation gave way to anger. He grabbed her shoulders and backed her into the side of the barn, squeezing her in frustration. His lips were hard and rough on her neck as he pinned her to the rough boards with his weight. On instinct, Beth drove her knee up and into the hard bulge beneath the front of his jeans. Jimmy doubled over, eys wide with a silent, almost comedic, "Oh". Beth shoved him hard, sending him the rest of the way to the ground, and skittered past him straight into the woods. She heard him yelling something about not blaming him when she died all alone, as she stomped along that familiar running trail deeper into the woods toward the creek that separated the Greene farm from their nearest neighbor. The ever present fear of the dead took a back seat to her firey temper. She didn't release that particular beast often, but when she did, it was a force all its own. Beth didn't hear the footfalls that followed behind her from the pounding of her pulse in her ears. The angry tears that tracked her cheeks just made her madder. She hates that she cries when she's mad… or happy or frustrated or sometimes, for no real reason at all. She is bent over catching her breath and swiping at the offending tears with the back of her hands when she hears it, the quiet snap of a twig then the squish of small rocks into the sandy clay mix on the creek bank. She stands, back rigid, and slowly lifts her hand to her pocket to fish out the pocket knife no decent farm girl would ever be caught without. The quiet, slow progress of the intruder quickens and all pretense of a sneak attack falls away. He knows that she knows he is there. A long, appreciative whistle leaves his lips, and she knows without looking that its Deputy Walsh. "You're a little spitfire aren't ya darlin'. Who knew underneath all that creamy, china doll sweetness, you're a real live hellcat, huh."

Beth's heart rate picks up speed, and the grip on her blade tightens. Shane tosses a rock into the creek and chuckles at nothing in particular. "I saw what you did to that boy back there. Don't think he'll be makin' that same mistake again…" He edges a little closer to Beth, testing the waters. "You're a real hellcat allright." A step and a half from Beth, he reaches for her and runs a quick finger down the back of her bicep. She wheels on him, pocket knife at the ready. Shane snorts, but there is a flash of respect in his eyes, and he has the decency to take a small step back. "I'm not gonna' hurt ya, darlin'. Put yer little knife away. Just wanna get ta know ya better, that's all."

Beth takes a step back and her eyes dart past Shane toward the trail home. He steps into her line of sight. His easy smile is gone replaced by a hungry, predatory lear that causes Beth to shiver. "Don't wory. I'll make sure you make it back safe and sound. You shouldn't be alone out here, not with the dead risin' like they are." He takes another step forward, reaching with both hands.

"There ya are! Lets go, Beth. Yer sister sent me to find ya." Beth spins on her heels and Shane takes a withering step back, arms going slack to rest at his sides. Daryl flicks his wrist impatiently, motioning for Beth to get a move on. His eyes are narrow and hard, but he isn't looking at her. There's a warning in the glare he sends over her shoulder. His arm is outstretched, calling her to him. Beth picks up the pace and heads straight for Daryl. His hand grazes her shoulder and he gives her a little nudge when she scoots past him. He backs up a few steps before turning to follow in her wake. Shane scowls after them and turns to toss another rock into the creek.

Beth is several steps ahead of Daryl and headed in the wrong direction. "Hey! This way," he hollers, and she stops, sort of. She's twitchy. He's noticed it before. She's all pent up energy, coiled tight when she's agitated. Daryl flicks his wrist again and points to the right. Beth strides past him and slows her pace, but Daryl continues to stay a few steps behind. She keeps waiting for him to say something, maybe yell at her for being out there by herself. Ask her what the hell she was thinking. She absentmindedly swipes at her shoulder, it still tingles where his fingers landed before. She waits for him to give her the whatfore for having to save her from her own stupidity. He never does. He doesn't say a word until they are back on the trail toward home. "You got it from here,?" he asks. His voice is gruff and raspy as if he hasn't spoken in days. Beth stops, looks down at her feet and nods. She takes a deep breath and turns to thank him, but he's gone. She looks in every direction and listens intently for any evidence of where he might have disappeared to. Nothing. Her brow creases and her shoulder itches again in that same spot. She turns back and quick steps for the house. She has a lot to process, needs to get to her jpurnal and sort through it all. Jimmy's an ass, and she was right about Shane. He isn't to be trusted. And Daryl… she isn't sure what to make of Daryl. Beth climbs the steps to her room and pulls her leather bound journal from beneath her pillow.

Its early evening, the sun disappearing earlier and earlier as the nights grow cooler. There's a knock on the door. Beth hears Shane's booming voice from downstairs. He's talking to her mama, says he's just checking in, making sure everybody and everyting is okay. Beth is holding her breath, waiting for her mama to send him away. Instead, she hears her invite him in. They're chatting in the kitchen, and Mama's pouring him a glass of lemonaid. "Oh, hell no!" Beth says to herself. She's been writing in her journal for hours, a long time to be writing, even for her. In that time, she's decided to tear down her old posters, put away her school girl dreams. She's 19 now. Her senior year, the year that never happened, no longer tugs on her heart, tethering her to the past. Its time to move on. Its time to be brave. She charges down the steps in her sock feet and stops just short of making the turn to the kitchen. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath not quite sure what the plan is, but her mind is made up. Beth Greene isn't running from her fears anymore. She paints a lovely smile across her face and bounces into the kitchen as if she hasn't a care in the world. "Hey Mama. Hello Deputy Walsh," she says with feigned teen-age enthusiasm. Annette is chopping carrots into tiny squares and Shane is leaning against the refrigerator. One side of his lip eases up as he half snarles, half grins at Beth over the rim of his glass.

"Hey, sweetheart. What 'cha up to." Annette asks without looking up from her task.

"Nothin' much," Beth sing-songs and heads straight for Shane. "Excuse me, please," she says in her sweetest child-like voice and reaches past him to open the fridge. Annette still keeps the drinks in there even though the fridge serves no more purpose these days than a decorative statue. Beth slams the door into Shane's shoulder as he slides out of the way sending a splash or two of lemonade up and over the edge of the glass. "Oh! Deputy Shane! I'm so sorry," she says non-apologetically. She nearly giggles at the sight of him skittering back to avoid spilling lemonade on his filthy t-shirt. Instead she turns and kisses her mama on the cheek. "I'm goin' out on the porch for a bit."

Outside, she briefly wonders if her little display in the kitchen was the smartest move she's ever made. But something inside her snapped or maybe everything just fell into place after today's events. She isn't exactly sure, but she knows that she has to change if she has any chance of surviving this new world. Movement beneathe the big oak tree growing just off the side of the porch catches her eye. A flash of moonlight off of metal appears and disappears as he shifts his crossbow from his shoulder to the ground. Feeling a little outside of herself, Beth hops down the stairs and heads straight for him. He starts to figit and digs in his breast pocket for a cigarette. "Hey," she says he takes his first deep, centering draw. He lifts his chin, a quick up-nod, in response. Beth's hands go to her pockets and she looks down at her sock clad feet. They don't say anything for the longest beat, but it's not unconfutable, just… quiet. Beth breaks the silence first. "Thank you for today," she says in earnest and cocks her head to try and catch his eyes.

"were'nt nothin'," he says and takes another long draw from his cigarette.

"Was to me."

"You 'aught ta' stay away from him. That little prick, what's-his-name too."

Beth's head shoots up and she studies Daryl's profile trying to make sense of what he's just said. He must have seen her exchange with Jimmy which means he was following her when Shane showed up. Upstairs in her room, when she was going back over the day, she had just assumed he was out hunting. She had been exceedingly grateful for the happenstance that saved her from who knows what at Shane's hands. She hadn't even considered that Daryl was out there silently following her, keeping her safe. Beth isn't sure what to do with this new found information, but the warmth spreading through her chest tells her it's worth figuring out.

"Quit starin' at me girl. Sumpin' wrong with you?"

Beth does giggle this time. She hasn't let out a good laugh in a long while, not since her whole world went to shit. "Aint nothin' wrong with me. I'm just thinkin' I owe you more than I first thought."

"You don't owe me shit. Just be more careful with yourself." He licks his fingers and squeezes the lit end of the half smoked cigarette before stuffing it back in his pocket. He's just about to push past her when the screen door slams and Shane steps out on the porch. Beth can feel the tension rolling off of Daryl like a heat wave. "Get on back upstairs," he says as he slips into the shadows behind the mammoth oak.

Beth turns and meets Shane as he hits the dirt in front of the house. "Where you been, darlin'?"

"Not your business," she retorts as she skirts past him. He makes a play for her arm, but she spins out of his reach and keeps a steady pace as she climbs the front porch steps.

Daryl watches from the shadows as Shane snorts ruefully and struts off toward their camp. Daryl's eyes drift to the double pane window above him as it opens. Beth's pony tail falls over her shoulder as she leans forward pushing one of the antique panes out and open. She can't see him, but she knows he's there. "Goodnight, Daryl," she whispers and retreats into her pink and yellow room.