I tried to keep the characters as consistent with the show as possible, but Beth needed college roommates, so Sasha, Amy, and Tara are de-aged and probably OoC.

Trigger warning: This fic contains attempted rape, mentions of sexual assault, and mentions of physical abuse.

Also, I don't have any claims on anything but the arrangement of the words.

She knew that this was a bad idea. If she'd known what they were planning, she'd never have come in the first place. But she'd shared a dorm room with these three girls for almost two months, and this was the first time she'd agreed to go out with them.

"I'm so glad you came with us, Beth," said Amy, squeezing her hand. She'd been the most persistent, asking Beth to join them every time they went out, long after the others had stopped. "Sasha says it's a local's bar, so they don't card."

"I still don't know why we couldn't go to Jake's." Not that she liked the idea any better, but at least Jake's wasn't too far from campus and she could walk home if she got tired. They'd all piled into Sasha's car to get here, wherever "here" was.

"Because we've been to Jake's for the past three weekends," said Tara. "You chickening out on us, Greene? We can call you a cab once we get to the bar."

"Leave her alone, Tara." Sasha smiled reassuringly. "My brother Tyreese used to go to Woodbury's when he was at Harrison. 'Said the crowd ain't bad and the drinks are cheap, but he forgot to tell me that parking's a bitch. Sorry I couldn't find a place closer."

"We aren't near the docks, are we?" Beth's father had wanted her to attend a college in Atlanta, closer to home, but she'd insisted on Savannah. He refused to compromise until she agreed to stay away from the docks after dark.

"Clear on the other side of town," said Sasha. "Don't worry, Greene, it'll be fine. We'll have fun!"

"Maybe a little liquor will loosen you up," Tara said with a smirk.

"I don't drink," Beth said.

"Well, then, maybe we'll find you a blue-collar stiff. Someone good with his hands."

The other girls burst into giggles, making Beth feel out of place again. They had all these inside jokes, and the three girls had bonded more quickly than she'd been able to. But it wasn't just their friendship that Beth envied. They also didn't seem to have as much trouble adjusting to the college lifestyle. Even Amy, who'd grown up on a small farm like Beth, seemed far more willing to try new things and was eager for new experiences. Beth felt so lost in the crowds of people rushing from one place to the next or lounging around and taking up space like they owned it. It was all so… different than what she'd expected.

"We're here," said Sasha, halting at the corner. A squat, brick building sat across the street, dim lights pouring out of the entryway. It was by far the seediest looking place Beth had ever seen in the city. "Now, remember, follow my lead. We act like we belong. We act like we've done this a million times before."

They all nodded and approached the doorway. A large, muscular black man emerged from the shadows just inside the bar. "Can I help you ladies?"

"Just coming in for a drink." Sasha lifted her chin and tried to skirt past him with an air of nonchalance.

He held out a hand, blocking her way. "IDs first."

Beth gulped, her heart pounding so fast that she could almost hear it thumping against her chest. "You guys, maybe we should—"

"Beth? Beth Greene, is that you?"

She turned towards the voice and saw a tall, thin man walking towards her. There was something familiar about that voice and that walk, but she couldn't put a name to him until he stepped into the light. "Mr. Dixon! How – Well, I never expected to find you here."

"I told you to call me Daryl." He nodded to the bouncer. "Hey, T-Dog. These girls are with me."

"Sure thing, man." T-Dog stepped aside. "Come on in."

Beth felt a little surge of pride as the other girls looked at her, eyes wide with speculation. She smiled and ushered them in. They made a beeline to an empty table at the far side of the room, but she saw Daryl break away and head towards the bar.

"Hey," she said, tapping his arm, "thanks for that."

"Not a problem." The corner of his lip curved up, which was about as much of a smile as Daryl Dixon was willing to give. His hair had gotten longer, the dark locks brushing his cheek and curling at the nape of neck. "'Think your friends are waitin' for you."

She turned to see her roommates gawking at them. "I should…"

He nodded and tilted his head towards the bar. She'd forgotten that he was fluent in the language of head nods and gestures. She replied in kind, smiling and awkwardly waving as she walked away.

"Spill," Tara said the moment Beth got to the table. "And here I thought you wouldn't have to balls to have an illicit affair with a man twice your age."

"Tara! I'm sure it's not like that," said Amy. "How do you know that man? Is he a friend of your father's?"

"Daryl? My father is way older than him." Beth chuckled at the idea of her father and Daryl shootin' the breeze on her front porch. Not that it hadn't happened, but he wasn't anything like her father. "He and his brother Merle worked as farmhands a couple of summers ago."

"And?" asked Tara.

"'And' what?"

"Is he good with his hands?"

The girls burst into another fit of giggles. Beth bit her lip and looked away, still not understanding the joke. "So, how are your classes going, Sasha?"

"I think I'm gonna need a few drinks in me if we're gonna start talking about school, Greene." She smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Why don't you get our drinks, and you can have Daryl help you bring them back?"

"I don't think he'd be too comfortable around a bunch of strangers," said Beth. To be honest, she wasn't exactly comfortable, either.

"Relax, I was just messing with you." Sasha patted her hand. Beth knew that it was meant to be a sympathetic gesture, but it felt condescending instead. "First round's on me, ladies."

The waitress came by to take their order, saving Sasha a trip to the bar. She rolled her eyes at Tara's apple martini and Amy's Midori sour, but she didn't ask for ID. Sasha ordered a beer while Beth stuck with ginger ale. Things got better after the drinks arrived. Tara mellowed out, opening up to tell them that she had a crush on a girl in one of her classes.

"You're not her type," said Sasha after Amy and Tara had run off to the bathroom, leaving her and Beth to watch the table.

"What?" She didn't consider herself homophobic, but she'd never met a lesbian before. She'd been trying to play it cool and not act nervous after Tara's confession.

"I said you're not her type." She smiled before taking another sip of her beer. "Me and Tara had a long talk about it one day 'cause I've never lived with a lesbian either."

"Did she get mad at you for asking questions?"

"Tara's got a loud bark, but she's good people. And she doesn't want to cause drama, at least not the kind that comes with a live-in girlfriend." Sasha's gaze drifted over Beth's shoulder. "You know, for an old guy, your friend's not too bad looking."

Beth twisted in her seat to see Daryl leaning over the pool table. He took his shot, and then another, which made her think he was playing alone. "Sasha, would you mind if I—"

"Go on."

She walked to the pool table, waiting until after he hit the ball to say something. "'There a buy in for this game?"

He looked her over and silently handed over his cue stick. He took another one off the wall as she racked the balls.

"How's Merle?" she asked. She didn't particularly have fond memories of the older Dixon brother, but it was one of the few things she knew about Daryl.

"In prison."

"I'm sorry."

"I ain't." He adjusted the balls she'd set up and then removed the plastic triangle. "You wanna break?"

"I guess." She set the cue ball on the worn green felt, lining up her shot. It was a weak hit, only a few balls rolling feebly away from the center.

He leaned his pole against the table and racked the balls again, scooping up the cue ball. He took the pool stick from her hands and held it out in front of her. "Grab it here and here," he said, pointing to two spots along the length of the pole. She chewed her lower lip as she followed his instructions. "You want this stay as straight as possible when you hit that ball."

She leaned over the table, mimicking his earlier stance.

"Now draw your arm back. See the way your body shifts?" He tapped her hip and her shoulder to indicate the changes in her stance. "You gotta take that into account as you aim."

She nodded and practiced a few times without the ball in front of her. It was easier to focus on her movements after he'd drawn her attention to the important places.

"Good." He set the ball on the table and crouched so that his face was next to hers. "When you draw back, I want you to take a deep breath in. And when you take your shot, you let it out."

She did exactly what he said, hitting the ball squarely in the center. The force of the blow knocked several of the multicolored balls from their tight formation. A few even spiraled across the table and landed in the holes.

"I did it!" She turned to him, a big smile on her face. She was surprised to see a genuine one on his as he stood up.

"That was hot," said Tara from behind them. Her arm was slung around Amy's neck, and they were both a little wobbly. "You guys should make out now or something."

"Tara, I think we ought to get you home." Beth's cheeks were burning from embarrassment. "Thanks for the lesson, Daryl."

"I'll walk you girls back to your car." He gathered the sticks and set them back on the wall. "This ain't exactly the nice part of town."

"I'm sure we'll be fine," she said, not wanting to inconvenience him any further. "There's four of us."

"I wasn't asking."

He followed her back to the table where Sasha and Amy were supporting an increasingly unsteady Tara between them. It probably didn't help that the other two girls weren't sober, either.

A dark-haired man with an eyepatch stepped out from behind the bar. "I'm sorry folks, but you're going to have to leave."

"I'm sorry, sir," said Beth. "We're on our way out."

He eyed Daryl, taking in his worn shoes, torn jeans, leather vest, and the shirt with the sleeves cut off. "Why don't I have some of my boys escort you to your car?"

"I've got it covered," Daryl said.

"What kind of Governor would I be if let these girls on the streets without protection? Martinez. Mitch." He called over two guys from the bar who had been leering at the girls all night. "My boys will make sure you're taken care of."

She felt Daryl stiffen behind her, but he didn't say anything as the men introduced themselves. She noticed that he didn't shake their hands, though.

As they headed towards the door, he grabbed her arm, pulling her close. "You got the keys?" he whispered. She nodded. "'Figured you'd be the only one sober by end of the night. That's good. When I tell you to run, you run. You don't wait for your friends, you just get to that car. Okay?"

She nodded again, swallowing hard to get past the lump in her throat. Daryl didn't scare easily, so it had to be something serious.

"Hey, Daryl," said T-Dog when they'd reached the exit, "you should come by the house tomorrow. We're havin' a barbecue."

She watched Daryl nod and give some indecipherable signal to the other man, who nodded back and followed them outside. Her roommates were a little ways ahead, the two men from the bar close behind them. Then she noticed something strange. "Hey, guys? You're going the wrong way. Our car's in the other direction."

"Well, our car's this way," said one of the men, maybe Martinez? It was hard to tell since they were beyond the circle of light outside the bar. "And The Governor wanted us to make sure you girls were 'taken care of.'"

"Now, Beth," Daryl said, shoving her behind him. "Run."

For a half a second, she hesitated, wishing there were some way to get her friends to safety. But she knew that the best thing she could do was follow Daryl's orders, so she ran. Three, four, five blocks later, she spotted the car, thankful that she'd worn her boots instead of the heels Amy had suggested. She got in and drove down the street to Woodbury's.

T-Dog was standing guard over Sasha and Amy, who were passed out against the side of the building. There was an ugly bruise forming on his cheek. She pulled up beside him and parked the car. "Where's Daryl?"

He pointed down the street. She got out and saw a form walking towards them, too bulky for his lanky frame. That's when she realized that he was carrying Tara. That's when she realized what might have happened if he hadn't shown up, if he hadn't insisted on walking them to the car.

"Daryl, is she…"

"Get in the car." He tucked Tara into the backseat beside Amy. T-Dog had just finished buckling Sasha on the other side. "Wait, no. Gimme the keys. I'll drive."

She walked around the car to hand him the keys. He turned away, trying to keep his face in shadow, but he wasn't quick enough. She'd seen his black eye and split lip. "Oh, Daryl."

He snatched the keys from her hand and turned to T-Dog. "You gonna be alright, man?"

"'Was getting' tired of this place anyways," he said. "Come by tomorrow. We always got room for one more. And you know Carol will be happy to see you."

"I'll think about it." Daryl slid behind the wheel and started the car. "Where you livin'?"

"Freshman dorms at Harrison State." She peered at the girls asleep in the backseat. "You know, I didn't have a drop of alcohol. I should be fine to drive."

"They ain't drunk," he said, glancing over at her before turning his attention back to the road. "Roofies still work in ginger ale. It's just harder to explain."

A shiver ran up her spine. She'd gone to the orientation, gotten her rape whistle, but she didn't really think it was something that could happen to her. She was too cautious, too careful to let herself be in that position again.

Suddenly, there wasn't enough air in the car. She jabbed at the button to lower the window, but it wasn't enough. Her breath was coming out in short gasps.

"Beth? Are you okay?"

Daryl's voice was coming from far, far away. She yanked on the door handle, not caring if the car was moving or not, but it refused to open, refused to let her out. Dizziness started to set in, splotches of black appearing in her vision.

The door opened, cool air rushing in. But it wasn't enough. She was still fading. Gentle hands pulled her from the car, easing her onto the sidewalk.

"Look at me, Beth. Look at me."

"Daryl?" He looked awful, all beat up.

"You gotta focus, Beth. Focus on your breathing. You feel my hand?" She realized that she was lying on the floor. She just wasn't sure how she'd gotten there. But Daryl was with her, had his hand on her stomach, and that meant she was safe. "Breathe in deep. Push my hand up."

She gasped a few times, trying to do what he wanted. It was too hard. There wasn't enough air, and there was blood on his lip.

"Breathe with me, Beth." Somehow, her hand was on his chest, and she could feel it pushing, expanding beneath her fingers. She focused on that, timing her own breaths to the rise and fall of his chest. "That's right. You're gonna be okay."

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The cold from the concrete seeped through her clothing, and she missed the warmth of his hand at her stomach.

"Thank you," she said as he helped her sit up.

He grunted and got to his feet. Before he could offer her a hand, the sound of a siren and a flash of lights signaled the presence of a cop car.

"Fuck," Daryl muttered.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" A bright beam shined in their faces, obscuring the cop's features.

"Hello, officer." She tried to stand up, but her feet wouldn't cooperate. And Daryl didn't make a move to help her. "I was just having a panic attack, is all."

"This man attack you?" He was on Daryl in an instant, had his face pressed against the car, hands cuffed behind his back.

"No." Beth shook her head, trying to clear the fuzziness away. "No, I—"

"Shane, we got more girls back here," said a voice from the other side of the car. Beth didn't even realize there was another officer.

"One girl wasn't enough for you?" Officer Shane, or whatever-his-name-was, was frisking Daryl, more rough and forceful than necessary. Especially since Daryl wasn't resisting. "You are one sick fuck."

"Miss?" The other officer was crouching beside her now, looking at her with piercing blue eyes. Just like Daryl's, although sometimes it was hard to tell because they were so narrow, like he was always squinting. But she could never forget the blue of his eyes. "Did he touch you? Did he hurt you?"

"Daryl? Daryl saved me." She pushed herself off the floor. "Look, this is all a big misunderstanding."

"You said he attacked you," said Officer Shane, his hand pressed against Daryl's back.

"No, I said I was having a panic attack." She turned towards the more friendly officer. "I started hyperventilating, so Daryl pulled over and helped me calm down."

Officer Friendly nodded. "And the girls in the back?"

"They're my roommates." She winced, knowing that what she was about to say might make the rest of the year unbearable if her roommates got arrested because of her. "We're freshmen at Harrison State. They wanted to drink, and Sasha knew about this local bar where they don't card. We think that one of the bartenders there roofied their drinks."

"This true?" asked Officer Friendly, turning towards Daryl.

"Yeah," Daryl said. "Calls himself 'The Governor.' Seems more like a pirate with that patch over his eye."

"You two know each other?" Officer Friendly gestured from Daryl to her. She nodded. "How?"

"Daryl's a good friend of mine. If he hadn't been there tonight…" She swallowed, looking at her friends' slack faces in the backseat, oblivious to the chaos happening right now. "There were two men who tried to take advantage of us. They're the ones gave him the split lip and black eye. He's the one who kept us safe."

"And what do you get out of it, huh?" said Officer Shane. He shoved Daryl's face into the car. "Why is a man your age hanging out with a sweet, young girl like her? You got some sort of sick fetish for little girls?"

"Shane," Officer Friendly said.

"Huh."

"Shut up." He pushed Officer Shane aside and reached into Daryl's back pocket, pulling out a leather wallet. "Dixon, huh? You related to Merle Dixon?"

"He's my brother," said Daryl.

"Well, that doesn't exactly ease my mind about leaving you with this young girl. Not to mention the other three young girls." Officer Friendly took a deep breath. "But if what you're saying is true, then I think our time would be better spent looking for these attempted rapists and this… piratical bartender. We could press assault charges on the guys that beat you up."

Daryl shook his head.

"Look, officers, we don't want no trouble. I just want to go home." She tried to stifle the sob rising from her throat. It was all too much, getting too difficult to handle. "Please, sir, just let us go."

"I'm sorry you had to go through this, I really am," said Officer Friendly, living up to his nickname. "But you were lucky tonight. You had a friend that you could trust." He unlocked the cuffs, freeing Daryl. "What if there's another girl who isn't so lucky? Who's gonna be there to save her? We could cite that bartender for serving to minors, but that's just a fine. It ain't gonna keep him from preying on others."

Beth looked down, feeling the energy draining out of her. She was just so tired.

"Look, officer," Daryl said, turning around, "all she had to drink tonight was ginger ale. And these other girls are in no position to give their statements."

Officer Friendly leveled his gaze at Daryl, evaluating his appearance the way The Governor had earlier that night. Finally, he reached some sort of decision because he nodded and started walking away.

"Oh, come on!" Officer Shane pounded his fists on the trunk of Sasha's car. "Rick?"

Officer Friendly – Rick – paused and turned around. He pulled out a business card from his pocket, handing it to her. "When your friends wake up, you tell them what happened tonight. You tell them what I told you, and you have them call me. Okay?"

"I will, Officer Fr—" She looked down at the card in her hand. "Sheriff Grimes. I'll have them call you first thing."

He walked away, for good this time, pulling Officer Shane with him. She and Daryl watched them get in the squad car and drive away.

"I'm so sorry for that. It was all my fault." She bit down on her lip. He just shrugged and nodded his head towards the passenger's seat. "I was thinking… I mean, it doesn't seem like I've been drugged, and I don't want to inconvenience you any more than I already have."

"Get in the car, Beth."

Dutifully, she followed his orders. They rode home in silence until they could see the Harrison campus coming into view.

"Why'd you tell 'em that?" he asked.

"Tell 'em what?"

"That I was your friend?"

"Well… you are." Despite the fact that this was the first time she'd seen him in almost two years, she still considered him her friend. She always would, especially after what he'd done for her. "Aren't I your friend?"

He paused at a stop sign and turned to give her one of those long, lingering looks that made her feel like her soul was exposed to him. He ran his tongue across his lips. "'Never thought about it much."

She lowered her head. It was silly of her to think that she'd had any impact on his life at all. She pushed down the pain, put on her smile, and raised her eyes to the road so that she could direct him to her dorm.

They pulled up as close to the door as they could, parking illegally in a disabled spot. She got out and then looked down at her friends in the backseat. Then she looked at the distance to the front door. She was eternally grateful that their room was on the first floor.

He already had Sasha out, draped over his shoulder. His skin looked so much paler next to hers. She tried to tug Tara into standing upright so she could help her back to their room.

"Leave her." He shut the door and pulled her towards the building. "I'll carry them in."

She nodded and fumbled for her keycard to open the door. They walked down the hall until they reached her room. She unlocked it and led him to through the bathroom that she and Amy shared with Sasha and Tara. He laid Sasha down on one of the beds. Beth hoped it was the right one. She walked to the door, wrapping her fingers around the handle.

"Beth?" He put his hand on her shoulder. "You're tired. Why don't you go back to your room and sit down?"

She nodded and gave him her card, propping open this door with a book from the nearest desk. Her tired feet took her back to her own room where her bed beckoned. But she knew the minute her head hit the pillow, she'd be gone. So she sat down at her desk and waited. The door to the other room closed, which meant he'd brought in Tara. She wondered how he knew she was sharing a room with Amy.

He appeared in her doorway, carrying the blond girl in his arms. She chewed her lower lip. Amy was so similar to her that this was probably what it would look like if she were in Amy's place.

"This one hers?" he asked, tilting his head towards the bed closest to the door. She nodded, and he set Amy down. "'Rooms a lot smaller than yours back at the farm."

"'Lot more crowded, too," she said. "But Amy's nice. We're a lot alike, so it's easy to get along."

"Not like you and your sister, huh?" He deposited her keycard and Sasha's car keys on her desk. "You get some rest now."

"Wait." She grabbed his wrist as he turned away. "How you gonna get home?"

"I'll find my way."

"Let me drive you home." His look told her that wasn't an option. "At least let me give you some money for a cab."

She dug through her purse, wondering how much a cab would even cost. His hand closed over hers, and she stilled. "I don't need your money, Beth."

"Daryl, I can't thank you enough for what you did today. You saved me. Again."

She looked at him, standing in front of her, and she could feel his closeness. The air was thinning, but it didn't affect her the way it did in the car. Instead, it left her senses sharper so she could smell the cigarette smoke and leather and engine oil and sweat that made up his scent. She could see the blood vessels beneath his black eye, the cracked skin near the scab that was forming on his lip. She could feel the rough callouses of his fingers on her hand, the warmth of his body. She could hear her own heart beating in her ears, and she wondered what it would be like to taste him.

He leaned down, and her heartbeat quickened. "You make sure they talk to that sheriff tomorrow, alright? I'm gonna give you my number, and you call me if you get into any trouble."

She swallowed and nodded.

He wrote his phone number on a slip of paper and handed it to her. "Promise me you'll stay out of the bad parts of town."

"I will," she said, regretfully, knowing that this promise would reduce her chances of coincidentally running into Daryl again. "I promise."

He grunted in response and left, the door closing behind him. She looked down at the paper, repeating the digits over and over until they were burned in her memory. Then she pinned it to her bulletin board, turned out the lights, and crawled into bed. Just as she'd predicted, sleep came almost instantly, and her thoughts on Daryl Dixon continued into her dreams.