This fic is dedicated to my beta and bestie, without whose valuable opinions and endless patience this piece would never have been written. Thanks, Rach!

Don't Walk Away

"Beth! Pry open a window! Get your shit!"

I could hear the panic rising in Daryl's voice as he led the herd of walkers away from me through the huge old house, past the two viewing rooms towards the mortuary downstairs. My ankle was still sore, but I had no choice; I had to put pressure on it now.

"I'm not gonna leave you!" I shouted, my heart in my throat. Anxiety threatened to overcome me; he was leading himself into a corner downstairs that he might not be able to get out of without help. I started to follow after him because I knew he'd need it.

"Go out, go up the road! I'll meet you there!" His voice faded as he turned fast down the stairwell, the walkers right behind him. "Go!"

One or two of the walkers following at the tail end of the bunch chasing him noticed me and cut off any chances I had of helping him. I sent up a quick prayer to God and my Daddy to keep him safe as I hobbled as quickly as I could out the front door now that there was a clear path, drawing at least these ones away from him.

I managed to lead them a ways into the yard, which was filled with roaming walkers but it was dark enough that none of them had noticed me yet. I dispatched the two on my tail with a knife jab to their eyes and hauled the leather bag Daryl had used to loot the country club a few days back, up higher on my shoulder. I'd stuffed my journal inside and if I could possibly help it, I did not want Daryl Dixon finding it and reading what was in it.

Quietly I reached the road, and turned back to watch for him. It would be a miracle if he made it out of there alive, but I had faith in him; the only way Daryl Dixon was going to leave this world was either by his own hand or by sacrificing himself to save someone else, and as much as I dreaded either of those two scenarios happening, they still made my lips curl up in a smile; he may not ever admit it to me aloud, but what he'd said earlier to me at the kitchen table just confirmed what I had suspected all along. It had taken me a moment to realise it, but just remembering his intense stare as it sunk in for me that I was what changed his mind about there still being good people in the world, made all our time together worthwhile. Now, if I could just make him believe that he was one of those good people-

The sound of squealing tires cut off my train of thought and I spun around just as an old Lincoln skidded past me, braking hard. I frowned and squeezed my knife tighter in my hand, keeping it out of sight behind my thigh. Was this help, or something else? My spine felt like there were a million spiders inside it, and I knew when the man stepped out dressed in a suit with a preacher's collar, I was fucked.

Daryl was right. Daryl was always right.

We felt uneasy here because this place was a trap, and even though I couldn't fathom for what purpose someone would go to all the trouble of setting it up, I knew in my heart that Daryl's bad feeling was spot-on, and we had stupidly walked right into it!

The man strode around the car and smiled at me. I took a step back, not trusting anything about him for even a second.

"My dear," He inquired, and I realised that he was older than I'd at first thought, "Are you alright? You look terribly frightened."

I wanted to throw my hands up in the air. Did this old fart even notice all the walkers around us?! My feeling of dread intensified.

"No! I'm fine," I lied, and slunk away as he tried to approach. His face looked kind enough in the red glow of the taillights, but my gut would not stop screaming that he was dangerous.

There was a loud thump from inside the still-open door of the house, and I turned for a split second to see if Daryl had made it, if he was on his way out, when I felt the man's hands grasp my throat so hard that he knocked us both down, pushing all the air out of my lungs when he landed on top of my stomach.

He grunted, and I struggled as hard as I could, but he jammed his elbow into my sternum and the shock of the pain made my vision start swimming, and the night began to fade away.

I wasn't quite out when he heaved himself off of me, and I heard him jangling his keys in the trunk's lock. I tried to roll over, to grab my knife that had landed under me when we'd fallen down, I could feel the hilt jabbing my ribs, but by then the man in the suit was hauling me up and slapping my hands away, ripping off the leather pack and tossing it on the ground as he roughly stuffed me inside and slammed the trunk, whacking my head in the process.

I whimpered in pain but still couldn't find my voice in my throbbing throat to scream. The car shook as the driver door slammed shut, and I lurched onto my back as he took off down the road. A second later I could hear Daryl screaming my name, and as blackness blinked in and out I thanked God Daryl was still alive.

The sound of the keys in the trunk lock brought me completely back to my senses, and I scooted as far back into it as I could fit my body. It opened quickly, but I couldn't see anyone right away. Suddenly the old man appeared from the side, peering down at me with a benign smile that made my skin absolutely crawl.

"Welcome, my dear." He pointed a gun at my face. "Kindly climb out of there, will you? I'm afraid I can't help you out."

I frowned. It was still dark, so I hadn't been out long. Maybe Daryl had followed-

"Now!" He screamed.

I jumped, and climbed out as quickly as I could, my ankle and chest and throat throbbing. I glared at him, but he simply gazed back at me serenely, as if he really had some sort of higher power. He pointed with the gun.

"Into the house, please, and do try to be obedient, dear. Your capture was a tad more difficult than I had anticipated." I noticed he was cradling his arm to his chest while he pointed the gun at me with the other. Had I managed to hurt him in my struggle?

Good, I thought. Old prick.

"Who are you?" I said nastily. He swatted me none too gently on the back of the head. I winced.

"Never you mind, girl. Just do as you're told and you'll be fine."

I climbed some porch steps and walked into a dark doorway, slowing. He walked around me and lit a lantern with a match, before prodding me forward with the gun again to another set of stairs leading down into an inky blackness. I balked, but he pushed.

Angrily I ripped my arm out of his reach, determined to not let him touch me again. The lantern had given me an idea.

At the bottom of the stairs, he stopped me in front of a barred door that stood open, then shoved me in roughly. I tripped, crying out, but he slammed the door, locked it, and left the lantern on the floor outside, just out of my reach. I huddled into the corner and growled, "What are you going to do with me?"

The man tucked the gun into his waistband now that he had me safely contained and smiled at me so profoundly, I squirmed.

"I am Father Gabriel, child. You, and others like you, have brought down this plague of the undead upon this world with your sin, and you must be cleansed. That is the only way to purge this disease from the world."

I stared. The old fop was out to lunch!

"I don't even know you! How do you know I've sinned, old man? You're bat-shit crazy if you think you know a damned thing about me!" I flinched when his righteous expression turned dark. Damn Daryl, rubbing off on me. What was I thinking, mouthing off like that?!

But then I remembered that Daryl wasn't afraid of anything, and that same cockiness might just save my life. To show no fear was probably stupid, but if I was going down in this dank cell, I wasn't going down without taking this pompous, self-righteous dickface with me!

"Oh, you've sinned, my dear. You sinned with that man. I knew you would. Eve has passed down her whoring weakness to every woman. I have no choice but to cleanse you if we are to save your mortal soul."

I scoffed. "And what proof do you have of this? Were you in the room with us?" Personally I was thinking, Pfft, had I been so lucky! I'll never know, now!

I saw the smile return.

"It matters not, child. I know the sin that is in your heart. And tomorrow..." He leaned against the bars. "Tomorrow, we will begin the ritual."

He turned then and limped away up the stairs, slamming me out with only the glow of the lantern to keep me company.

"Don't bet on it, asshole!" I yelled. I reached down into my boot, and felt the spare knife Daryl had insisted I keep there. Hell! He hadn't even bothered to frisk me! Then I fished in my pocket for the matchbook I'd stuffed there the night we burned the shack. I smiled to myself. The old man was already sore from our encounter. Tomorrow, we would see who would be doing the 'cleansing'.

Daryl, I thought, grinning to myself, what would I do without you?

I didn't sleep that night. Instead, I planned and plotted, and I asked God to give me the strength to help me get out of this mess and find Daryl again.

I knew I couldn't depend on Daryl rescuing me; there were too many variables for that to be a plausible outcome. If I was going to survive this raving bozo, I had to assume I'd be doing it on my own.

For a long time I simply turned the knife over and over in my hands; I knew what I'd be doing with it as soon as that douchebag came back down here again. If he was smart he'd forget about me, but if there's one thing I could depend on, it was human nature. That, and I'd read the Bible, too. I had a pretty fair idea of what he meant when he said I needed 'cleansing' and a simple bath was not what he had in mind, I'd bet my life on it. So I had to incapacitate him long enough to get away.

A part of me didn't want to do this. But a bigger part - the part Daryl had been nurturing after our conversation at the shack and all through my tracking lesson the following morning - wanted to survive. And if Daryl had taught me anything, it was that only the strong survive. Not the good, not the bad, not the damaged. The strong. I would be strong. And in effect, ironically, I would sin to save my own skin.

That I had calmly decided to kill the man upstairs didn't upset me as much as I thought it would; most would do the same thing in my place. But the world of old had passed away. The rules had changed. And I was never so glad they had than I was right now.

I leaned my head back against the wall and wondered what Daryl was doing now. Probably trying to find me, I hoped. He was really a very sweet man when you got to know him. I could see now why Rick depended on him so much. I'd depended on him, too. And he hadn't disappointed me. Sure, at first he was pretty withdrawn after our escape from the prison... but so was I. When I decided I needed a drink to see what his reaction would be, I was slightly miffed that he appeared to ignore me, but then again Daryl was the type of person who said nothing when he had nothing to say. He didn't seem to feel the need to fill the silence like I did.

I smiled as I thought of how he'd cried when we'd gotten drunk on the moonshine. I hadn't meant to offend him, but when he flew off the handle I understood why he'd been reluctant to join me. He was a mean drunk, and I wished I hadn't pushed him into entertaining me with I Never. Even though I regretted it, I had learned a few interesting tidbits about my quiet companion. I'd been shocked to learn that he'd had such a shitty childhood, for one. But then my impression from Merle during his short stay at the prison did not lend much hope to my thinking otherwise. And he'd been right; even if I told myself I was getting drunk just because it was something fun I wanted to do before I died, Daryl had called it spot-on when he accused me of acting like 'some dumb college bitch', as he put it. I had to laugh a little. Even his insults were endearing to me now!

There was a thump from upstairs but nothing followed it, and I let myself drift back into my most recent memories.

The look on his face when he suggested that we stick around the funeral home... I'd not wanted him to see my shock because I had been thinking about how nice it would be to do just that, that whole day. And, I had to admit, even though he was eons older than me, Daryl had his charm. The fact that he was handsome in a bad boy kinda way certainly didn't hurt. There was just something about a bad boy that a good girl like me was drawn to... Perhaps the excitement of his experience was what attracted me, or how he'd softened and finally let me see the real Daryl; I couldn't say. All I knew was that after spending the last week and a half together, I was irrevocably changed, and I had pretty good suspicion that he was, too.

My eyes began to droop as light slowly filtered through a filthy window high above my head, casting my dank cell into soft, yellowish light. Dawn had arrived. So soon would my abductor.

Putting away all my mixed-up and sparkly feelings for my travel companion, I gripped the knife in my hand and started to edge my way toward the barred door. Time to put my plan in motion.

"Help! Please?! Hey! Buddy!"

The door at the top of the steps banged open and I jumped, but kept up my shouting.

"Hey! Old guy! I'm talkin' to you! Come here!"

Slowly I saw shoes descend the stairs. Old man shoes. Excellent. He rounded the railing at the bottom and came over to peer at me through obviously still-tired eyes. Grouchily he snapped, "What do you want, girl?!"

I bounced up and down on my toes, gripping the bars tightly. "I gotta take a piss, asshole!" I smiled inwardly at repeating Daryl's crude words from the shack, and almost wished I possessed the right equipment to piss on the old dink.

He frowned at me. Obviously, he thought a lady would never speak as such. To save my own life, I was about to demonstrate for him how un-ladylike I could be.

"You're going to have to wait-"

"No!" I cut him off. "I have to go now, asswipe!" And I spit in his face.

That did it.

In a rage, he flew at my door, scrambling to get it open, and I slipped my blade from my back pocket and bided my time.

He fumbled with the lock once, twice, before finally flinging the door open and getting right up in my face. I squinted my eyes to protect them from the spray.

The old man groaned, then brought his hand up to touch the blood that began to quickly dribble down the front of his crisp, white, button-down shirt. As he stared at it in wonder, I caught his attention. Glaring, I stabbed him on the other side of his neck and stepped away.

He fell. I watched in detachment as he lay back and began to gasp. Carefully I knelt next to him.

"May God have mercy on your soul, you sick fuck." I flipped him the bird as I reached down and pried the keyring from his cooling fingers, and he gasped at me. I stood and left the cell, locking it behind me, but before I left him, I whispered, "'Judge not, lest ye be judged.' You had no right to abduct me, old man." I paused, taking the time to wipe his blood off my fingers onto my already disgusting jeans.

"You have no right to call me a sinner. I may have killed you, and I am sorry for that; but the only one who sinned here, was you. Burn in hell."

I watched him breathe his last, then dashed up the stairs. He would reanimate soon, but he wouldn't stay that way for long.

As I reached the top step I pulled out the matchbook. I had ten matches left.

In the daylight the house was just as clean and tended as the funeral home had been. I grimaced. Lesson learned, Bethy. Always suspect cleanliness.

Walking around the room, I set two chairs and a couch on fire, opened all the windows, and walked outside. Surprisingly there were no walkers in my sight. How fortuitous, I thought. Makes my job just that much easier.

I jogged to the Lincoln and tried to remember which way the old bastard had turned last before hauling me out of the trunk. My memory was messy but I had felt myself roll left just before we stopped, so we must have turned... right. I hoped I was correct, and I backed out of the driveway had headed to the right, and blew down the road, the house finally going up behind me.

I grinned. No one could tell me I couldn't fend for myself anymore. I felt hope in my heart expand as I thought of seeing Daryl's face again.

I drove for a while, but the euphoria of escape slowly began to wear off, and my hands started to shake on the steering wheel. I didn't dare stop to think about what I had done; I had killed that man, but I was not a bad person. Was I?

I slowed, coming to a crossroad with train tracks cutting through it. There was a red scrap of cloth on the ground near the middle of the road and I braked, hard. Getting out, I picked it up. Turning it over, a huge smile broke out on my face. I sniffed it; yep, it was Daryl's 'dew-rag'. It still smelled like his sweat.

Turning around, I stared at the ground, noting several swathes of disturbed leaves. Daryl hadn't had time to teach me much, but clearly something had happened here, and there were several someones with him when it did. Feeling panicky, I risked calling out to my missing companion.

"Daryl!"

My voice echoed around the intersection and the only answer was the whisper of wind in the trees. Sighing, I checked the gas gauge in the idling Lincoln. Quarter tank.

Surely this rag couldn't have been here long, I reasoned. I'd only been driving for fifteen minutes. The funeral home was probably still miles away, which meant that Daryl had probably run all night to get this far, but been unable to tell which way I'd been taken past this point. I sighed.

I was having the same problem!

I decided to get back in the car and drive down all the roads and hope luck was with me and I'd spot him. Pulling away, I followed the first road for ten minutes without seeing a single sign. Paranoid of missing him, I turned around, back-tracked to the tracks, and went another way. This time I saw a dead walker, and hope renewed my search.

After another ten minutes I saw two more corpses and I screamed out loud with excitement. One of those walkers had been killed with a crossbow bolt!

When I got to a curve in the road ahead I slowed down; obviously my Daryl was still alive but he wasn't alone, either. Crawling now, I edged around the bend and spotted movement about a half-mile away, through a field. Squinting, I could just make out seven bodies, heading away from me into the woods, and even from this distance, they were too similar to distinguish, except one had grey hair.

An idea popped into my head. There was more than one way to skin a cat, I was sure my redneck would relish reminding me! I just hoped it worked.

Letting the engine idle, I slipped out and pulled Daryl's rag from my pocket. Ripping off a strip with my knife, I lit the remaining scrap with a match and stuffed it into the gas tank opening, then ran for the treeline behind the car where I would be able to see them coming, and hiding, I waited. I tied the remaining cloth around my wrist so I wouldn't lose it.

A moment later the explosion knocked me on my ass and there was a loud humming in my ears, but when I sat up, I saw what I had hoped to see; they were coming back! Scrambling, I went deeper into the woods trying to leave as little evidence of my passing as possible, then, finding a perfect tree, I made a running leap for the lowest branch and pulled myself up without leaving any mud from my boots on the trunk to give me away. I climbed til I could see the fire and watched eagerly as the band of figures loped toward it.

As they drew nearer, the grey-haired man became more dinstinct, as did another wearing a toque and another with a bald spot the size of the great state of Georgia. Three more became recognisable, but I still didn't see who I was looking for. Then, grey-hair stopped and glanced behind him. I narrowed my eyes, trying to see.

After a few moments a seventh figure caught up and even from this distance that shaggy hair and crossbow were dead giveaways. Grinning so wide I thought my lips would split, I climbed down from my perch and edged closer to hear what they were saying. I'd made up my mind not to reveal myself until it was safe; Daryl would skin me if I were to do something as stupid as assuming I was safe with strangers, be they in his company or not.

I crept behind a hedge about fifteen feet away from them as they approached the flaming vehicle, weapons up and eyes alert. I searched through the hedge for a better look at Daryl, and could barely contain my happiness when he walked almost right by me.

Grey-hair was the first to speak. "What in fresh hell is this?" He rubbed his chin.

Another called, "Looks on purpose to me, Joe."

I rolled my eyes. Well duh.

This Joe seemed to have the same opinion. "No, really? Of course it is, you dipshit." He looked at Daryl. "You know anything about this, Daryl?"

I held my breath as Daryl slowly walked around the blazing car, and when he stopped to stare at the white cross on the back window I saw recognition dawn in his eyes, but he shuttered it away almost immediately. I hoped he thought I was still alive.

He didn't answer Joe, instead remarked, pointing at the gas tank, "Molotov. Someone's been bit by the firebug." He nonchalantly scanned the woods around him, and I smiled. Someone who did not know Daryl well would think nothing of this, but I knew better. I also knew better than to show myself, much as I wanted to run to him.

Another man, taller and shaggier, came to stand next to Daryl and said, "Joe asked you a question, boy." His manner was belligerent.

I stifled a snicker. This dude was a dumbass!

Daryl turned slowly to stare at him, looking rather unimpressed. Daryl was good at that. You never knew what he was thinking... unless you knew him well. Clearly this man had not had Daryl's aquaintance long.

"Don't know nothin' 'bout it." He stared hard at the other man until he sniffed and walked away. Joe seemed to have made up his mind about something.

"Clearly this was not an accident, gents. But I don't see any immediate reason for concern. I say we move on before this mess attracts unwanted attention." As a whole the group turned and retreated back the way they'd come, but Daryl took another long glance around, and was the last man to leave.

I wanted so bad to let him see me but I stood my ground and waited until they had almost reached the treeline across the field before following, keeping low to the ground and wary of any backward glances. Luckily, no walkers had come to investigate the smell yet so I was literally free to follow them pretty much unhindered.

A time or two Daryl, bringing up the rear, looked back, presumably to check for danger, but I did not let myself be seen. As soon as I lost sight of them in the woods, I picked up the pace and changed direction, hoping to outflank them on higher ground. I smiled to myself. He would be proud of me. I'd soaked up more than even he knew, I'd bet.

Night fell quickly as the weather grew cooler, and I wished I had my winter jacket as I shivered in the crack I'd wedged myself into. Or, more ideally, Daryl next to me. The man was a veritable furnace in and of himself. If I ever heard him complain of being cold I'd probably die of shock.

From here I could clearly see and hear what was going on without being seen, and my position was remote; no walker would reach me here. Still, high up on a not-so sheltered rock wall had its downsides. Like the wind. I hugged myself to stave off the bitter bite and tried to keep my teeth from chattering and my stomach from rumbling.

Below me, the men settled in for the night. A big fire blazed, but they remained safely within the confines of a triple string of barbed wire. I had to admit, that was a smart idea.

One by one they finished their meal of badger (at this point I was so hungry I would have sold my dearly departed Daddy for a bite) and turned in. The conversation, unfortunately, had been of no interest and I had to buck up and accept that I wouldn't be any wiser about them for my efforts. Still, if Daryl decided to leave the camp alone... I was ready.

By now I could put a name to almost all of them. The guy in the bandanna was Tony; the belligerent prick with the lame biker hoody was Len; Baldy McBald was Dan; and grey-hair obviously, was Joe. The man with the bayonet and Toque-man remained nameless thus far.

My eyes began to droop closed, but I wrenched them open at movement from the camp. Daryl had risen to his knees and was rooting around in the black garbage bag I remembered him scavenging from the Olds we'd hidden inside the trunk of, the night the prison herd had caught up to us.

He pulled out the leather bag I'd dropped when that crazy old man had abducted me and rummaged in it for a moment until he found what he was looking for. To my utter shock he pulled out my journal and slipped it inside his vest.

My jaw dropped. Oh... My... God. He was reading my journal?!

I started to feel sick. He was never supposed to read that! I watched in awe as he laid down again and crossed his legs at the ankles, pulled it out, and began perusing the pages in the firelight.

Ugh! I wanted to kick myself. Why had I stuffed it in there? Now he'd know all of my thoughts, if he'd didn't already! Shit!

Vaguely I realised I'd been swearing a lot more than I ever had in my life, and I attributed this new habit directly to him. Daryl had the foulest mouth of anyone I'd ever known and now I had one, too. I frowned and blew out an angry breath. He was such a bad influence on me. Was that why I liked him? Because he was so uninhibited? He was also honest to a fault and God help you if he wanted to be honest about your flaws. He flung his colourful insults like Michonne handled her katana - with deadly force. Yet, he could be gentle and considerate, when he felt like it. I recalled the time I'd overheard Carol telling Andrea, back at our farm, that Daryl had brought her a Cherokee Rose in a bottle and told her the story of the Trail of Tears, and that he believed that the flower had bloomed especially for her little girl.

My anger died a little at this memory. For all Daryl knew I was really gone and my journal was all he had left. I sighed and wiped away a tear the wind forced out. I just hoped he wasn't angry about what he read in there. I still felt hurt that my thoughts and feelings were on display in there for him to read, though. I felt like such an idiot, and my embarrassment served to keep me warm for about thirty minutes.

After a while Len reached over and plucked my journal from Daryl's hands and snickered, "What's so interestin' in here, Hoss? You're a pretty pink in the firelight. Let's see what you're readin'."

I held my breath, waiting for Daryl's reaction. It was swift.

"Gimme that back, asshole! Or I'mma kick your nuts up into your throat!" They began to scuffle and Daryl knocked the book out of Len's hand into the dirt where Joe reached over and picked it up. He read my name on the inside cover before he snapped it shut and said, "Whoa, boys! I said whoa!"

He reached out and thumped the closest man on the head with his fist, which happened to be Len, and Tony pried the two apart with the stock of his assault rifle. Joe sat up and stared both men down, though his effort was lost on Daryl since he never stopped glaring at Len.

"Now Len, this here is Daryl's book. Unless you Claim somethin' for yourself, it ain't yours to snatch. Keep your damn hands to yourself, you hear?" He handed the book to Daryl, who snatched it back and jammed it inside his vest so fast, I smiled. Possessive, much?

Len sneered, "Probably some sappy shit that bitch of yours wrote, Angelwings."

Before Daryl could lash out again Joe growled, "Enough, ladies! Pick your panties outta your cracks and go the fuck to sleep."

I giggled quietly. Some people certainly used interesting vernacular. Dialect: Redneck.

After a while Len began to snore softly and Joe rolled over to face Daryl, his face unreadable in the glow of the fire. I tensed myself, straining to hear.

"So, Daryl..." Joe trailed off and the rest of the group looked at them, Joe's soft words drawing their attention.

Daryl looked Joe in the eye, and even from here I could tell his expression clearly said 'I don't wanna talk about it', but I supposed Joe was not as attuned to Daryl's facial expressions as I was.

"Is this the Beth Greene you were lookin' for?" He motioned toward my journal in Daryl's pocket.

I froze, waiting for Daryl's answer. Would he tell them the truth? Did I want him to?

Daryl looked away, then lifted his shoulder and mumbled under his breath. I didn't catch it, and neither did Joe. He smiled. "Beg pardon?"

Daryl's shoulders sagged, and I felt my heart go out to him. What would I have done in this situation? I truly didn't know.

"Yeah. She was my responsibility."

His soft words unnerved me.

Joe nodded. "Daughter?"

I held my breath.

Daryl shook his head.

Joe leaned up on his elbow. "Lover?"

My eyes felt glued to Daryl's face.

His head fell back with a smirk and he let out a humorless laugh. "Not hardly."

My heart was going a million miles a minute. My curiosity raged inside of me. He'd obviously read everything I'd written, to be so close-mouthed. But what was he thinking, saying 'not hardly'? What did that mean?!

Joe blinked, and brushed a mosquito away from his ear. "Care to elaborate? We might be a bunch of redneck assholes, but we appreciate a story about a good woman, Daryl. Might help if you get it off your chest."

I found myself torn between praying like mad he would, and hoping like Hell he wouldn't. Damn it, this was private stuff! But I was curious beyond belief. What did Daryl think of me?

Daryl sighed, and stared into the fire.

"Ain't much to tell. We were attacked and she and I found a place that looked real safe, but we were wrong. We spent a night there but were attacked again on the second night. Was a trap." He paused, and I realised he was on the brink of tears, even though his eyes were dry. I could hear them in his gravelly voice.

"I'm sorry, Daryl." Joe sounded sincere. Daryl nodded. Joe continued. "Look, clearly this girl means somethin' to you. If you want, we can help you look for her while we look for Lou's killer."

My eyes widened.

Daryl stared back at Joe but there was no detectable change in his face that I could see.

"I dunno know if it matters nomore. She's gone." I heard the words he didn't say: "And it's all my fault."

He hung his head, and the other men in the group murmured low. I frowned. I'd thought for sure he'd suspected something when he saw the car. Apparently not. And clearly he didn't want them to know our whole story.

Joe nodded. After a moment, he asked, "Did you love her?"

All eyes watched my companion as he fiddled with a frayed thread on the ripped knee of his pants. Especially mine.

Suddenly, I didn't want to know what he thought of me. Really, it was none of my business; if he wanted to share it with these guys, that was up to him. I had no business knowing something he hadn't told me to my face.

I stuck my fingers in my ears and turned away, closing my eyes. Besides, if he didn't love me... I knew he was at least fond of me. I doubted he would have gone out of his way to find me moonshine and open up to me if he wasn't.

I didn't realise until then just how important he'd become to me. How very much the center of my universe he really was, now. I'd always thought he was good-looking; I'd embroidered at length on his physical attributes in my journal between songs occasionally. I didn't know exactly when it had happened, though - that tension that seemed to spring up between us, rife with intent - whether at the table two nights ago, or the night we burned down the shack... And that look in his eyes, when he suggested we go inside... Somehow, Daryl Dixon had managed to get under my skin and make himself at home there. He'd made me believe in myself... in us. As emotionally crippled and damaged as he was, he was the most honorable person besides my Daddy and Rick and Glenn I'd ever known. It didn't matter that he was almost twice my age, either. Those rules didn't apply anymore. If he had developed feelings for me... He should be the one to tell me.

Making up my mind, since this Joe character seemed to be alright, aside from this personal vendetta he was on, I quietly gathered my few possessions and climbed down from my temporary haven. Obviously I was going to have to go the distance if I wanted my Daryl firmly back in my camp. For me, there was no question about it. He was a part of me now. My survival depended upon him, and not just physically. My emotional survival hung in the balance, too. Deep down, I suspected that he needed me just as much as I needed him.

The thought made my cheeks turn pink.

Climbing down in the dark was hard, but I made it with only a few scratches on my arms. As I carefully picked my way closer to the men's camp, the glow of their fire over a nearby hill as my beacon in the dark, I almost blew everything and screamed when an old, stuck walker gurgled at me from under a fallen log. Its' snarls were pathetically weak but I didn't want to chance them hearing it. After I settled down from the scare it'd given me, I quickly stabbed it through the top of its' moss-covered skull and listened intently. I could hear them murmuring but no alarm had been raised. Good.

I lit a match to see if the walker had anything on its' rotten person that could be of use to me. Something shiny caught my eye on the only part of its' belt that was visible under the rounded edge of the massive tree trunk. Putting the match closer, I made out a large bowie knife jammed point-down under the weight of the tree and grinned. Now there was a weapon worth stopping for. It made the stilletto Daryl had given me to hide in my boot look like a hatpin.

Prying it out, I detached the sheath from the walker's belt and hooked it to my own. Then, because I only wanted Daryl to see me, I slowly peeked over the hilltop to survey the arrangement of men below.

From this vantage point I could see and hear everything almost perfectly. I was careful to make no noise as I observed them.

Joe and Len were asleep. Dan and Tony were speaking in whispers while buddy with the bayonet stood watch, his back to me. Daryl dozed with my journal lying face-down on his chest. Toque-y was dead to the world.

Dan and Tony were talking almost too low, but I picked up enough of the conversation to know they were talking about Daryl - and me.

"I think whoever finds her - get her first, don't - "

"Daryl - would - ballistic - this girl. Maybe - shouldn't - all the fun."

My eyes narrowed. The impression that I would be more welcome here than I cared to know made my empty stomach heave. The thought crossed my mind that there would be nothing Daryl or I could do to protect me if they all decided they wanted a piece of me. I had no illusions about what their plans would entail.

My gaze slid to Len. I had no doubt that that asshole would be first in line too, just because he seemed to have the biggest beef with my friend, a stupid rivalry. Despite my disgust with the whispered conversation I'd overheard, and my faith that Daryl would do everything in his power to prevent that outcome, should it arise (and I had no intention of letting that happen, Hell to the No, sir!), I felt a kernal of pride bloom in my chest. Len had every right to be jealous of my Daryl. He was ten times the man of any of these douchebags!

Slowly, I crawled around the perimeter of the wire fence, keeping a wary eye out not only for walkers on this side, but the human scum within its' confines, as well.

When I was within Daryl's direct line of sight were he to look up, I silently stood up and hid behind a tree two feet ahead of me and slightly to my left. If I stood next to it, the firelight would touch me, but only he would see me.

I shivered. There was less than fifteen feet separating us, but unless I made a noise, he wouldn't wake up. I bit my lip.

And if I did make a noise, how would I ensure only Daryl came to investigate?

I mentally slapped my forehead. Obviously I would have to show myself to him, but he needed to get my hint and be quiet about it. I felt reasonably certain that I could count on Daryl's discretion in this situation. He could be one of the quietest, most reserved people I knew. He probably wouldn't even blink if I flashed him, for cripe's sake. I prayed to my Daddy in Heaven above that his hunters' instinct would keep him silent.

Besides, if things went south I could always just melt into the dark and disappear.

Picking up a dead, dry stick, I peeked around the tree. Daryl's jaw was slightly slack, now. So his doze was getting deeper. Better move my ass.

Abruptly I cracked the branch in half.

Bayonet-Buddy spun around, but otherwise didn't move. Tony and Dan stopped whispering, but they didn't move either. The other three continued to snore. But Daryl's eyes flew open.

Quickly, I leaned out into his line of sight, smiled, and put my finger to my lips. Then I beckoned to him to follow me before turning and walking into the darkness as quietly as I could.

I crept down the hill and crouched behind an uprooted tree trunk to wait, watching tensely. I couldn't hear anything coming. I crossed my fingers, hoping he'd seen me. If not, I'd have to do it again, and my heart was already racing with fear and anxiety. I couldn't get the sight of his sleep-drugged eyes out of my mind.

Several minutes passed. I jigged lightly on my toes. The urge to pee right now was growing unbearable, not to mention my hunger had come back full force. My throat felt drier than a popcorn fart and I tried to recall the last time I'd had a drink.

Suddenly a hand slid over my mouth from behind and I brought up the bowie knife to fend off my attacker when he whispered, "Easy! Easy Beth, it's me."

The firm press of his chest to my back brought all my pent-up emotions to the surface and with a quiet whimper I turned in his grip and threw my arms around his neck. It took him less time than I would've thought to tighten his around me in return.

I wiped away the tear that escaped as he allowed me a few inches of space, and I had to grin at the cocky smirk on his face. Laughing quietly, I said, "I really missed you, Dixon."

Tugging gently on the braid in my ponytail he looked at me in the kindest way I'd ever seen him regard anyone except Judith and Carol.

"Missed you, too, Greene." To my complete surprise he pulled me in for another hug, like he couldn't believe I was really there.

I chuckled. "Told you, you would, didn't I?" I smiled up at him.

He nodded, and I saw the Daryl in his face that he'd shown to me so fleetingly at the table at the funeral home just before we'd been torn apart. The Daryl that made my lower gut flutter in the most peculiar way.

After a moment he rubbed the hair on the back of his neck and I let him put a little distance between us, expecting full well that the semi-intimate reunion was over. Still, I reached out and squeezed his fingers briefly before dropping them.

He stared at his hand for a moment, then looked up at me from under his greasy hair. The guilt in his face threw me off.

"I'm sorry, Beth. I should've never sent you out to the road alone-"

I stopped him with a brief touch of my finger to his lips.

"No." I shook my head at him. "What happened was not your fault. You are not to blame, Daryl. If it weren't for you, I'd never have escaped. You may have been separated from me, but in here-" I tapped my heart, "-you were with me. Everything you've taught me, I've used these past few days. Don't be sorry, please, for being the best thing that ever could have happened to me."

He continued to stare at me like a wounded puppy, like I would still punish him. I shook my head and smiled at him sadly.

"Don't you see, you silly man? I owe my life to you." I closed the space between us again and rested my arms around his waist, laying my cheek over his heart. "So learn how to smile and take a compliment, okay?"

I felt him chuckle, and he tugged my hair again, my signal to let go and give him his space. I did so without hesitating and beemed my biggest grin at him.

"Besides," I smirked at him, "I saved your ass that night. There were two less walkers for you to fend off in that basement."

He smiled a little and raised a brow at that. "Made all the difference." Slightly sarcastic.

I winked.

Shaking his head in mirth, he motioned for me to sit, then he took his own seat a good foot away from me and asked, "So what did happen back there?"

I started to draw a circle on the knee of my jeans with my finger. "I'm not too clear on that, myself. He said his name was Father Gabriel. He was really just one fucked-up old American, I think."

Daryl snorted, and I giggled a little hysterically.

"Held me in a cell overnight. Next morning, I got out and burned his fucking house down." My unspoken confession of murder hung in the air.

Daryl, God bless him, only asked, "How?" It was a vague question, but I knew what he meant.

I pulled the stilletto out of my boot. "See?" I said, twirling it so it caught a beam of moonlight. "Even when you weren't in the vicinity... You were still with me."

A comfortable silence fell between us. Then he slung his arm over my shoulders and drew me a bit closer.

"Proud of ya, Greene."

I leaned my head into his armpit, my cheeks hot and my smile genuine. That was damn high praise from this particular man.

"I learned from the best." I breathed, slipping the stilletto back into its sheath. He took a breath through his nose.

"So," I said, breaking the tension before it could reach a crisis point, "how did you slip away?" Despite the vagueness of my question, he still knew what I meant. This was like being reunited with my best friend again. We always seemed to follow the same train of thought.

He snorted again. "Told 'em the badger weren't sittin' too well." He glanced at me from the corner of his eye to see if I'd picked up on the joke. My Daryl had a cast-iron stomach. There wasn't anything I knew of that could even make him make queasy.

I nudged his shoulder with mine. "Good thing they don't know you very well, huh?"

He nodded, staring at his hands in the darkness. "Yeah."

My stomach rumbled, loudly.

He looked down at the top of my head. "You hungry, girl? When you eat last?"

I bit my lip. "Um... that night." The night I was taken. I sorely missed the taste of peanut butter.

He pushed his crossbow further back on his shoulder, and dug around in his vest pocket while he took a good long look around us, just to be sure no one was watching or stalking us. A moment later he pulled out a few pepperettes.

"Here." He held them out to me. "S'not much. Cert'nly not pig's feet." He smiled sadly. "Sorry."

I brushed his fingers with mine as I accepted them, and I felt the effect my touch had on him as he stiffened slightly against my shoulder.

"Thanks," I told him, and because I was feeling grateful, I decided to show him. So I leaned over and, stretching my neck, pecked his prickly cheek and smiled at him.

He stared at me as if I'd grown two heads.

I bit off a piece of pepperette and shrugged. His eyes narrowed but he didn't protest or cuss me out. I considered that to be a good sign.

"Hmm, that's good. You got any water? I'm dyin' of thirst."

He pulled out a small bottle, the same bottle actually, that he'd tossed at me the day we'd cooked the snake, and I took a swig, water dribbling down my chin.

I felt his eyes follow that water down my neck in the darkness that wasn't so dark now that we'd been sitting here for a while, and because I knew mentioning it would just get his back up, I simply handed it back and thanked him again. He grunted.

When I'd polished off the pepperette and stowed away the others for later, I said, "Now what?"

He contemplated his hands again for a few minutes. Then he asked, "How long have you been watchin' us, Beth?"

I knew he would know if I lied; Daryl had an amazing ability to detect falsehoods. So I told him the truth.

I shrugged. "Since I set that car on fire."

He looked at me then, from behind that dirty hair. It made me wish momentarily for the short crop he'd started out with at the beginning of our aquaintance, at my Daddy's farm. Not that he didn't rock what he had now, since if I were to be honest with myself, if he offered to fool around, the last thing I'd split hairs about would be his personal hygiene. But the desire to clearly see his eyes was strong, nonetheless.

Surprisingly, he smiled again. Daryl's smiles were funny in that usually they were extremely rare, never truly sunny, and bestowed only when he found something crudely amusing, or when he was holding Judith. It felt wonderful to be the recipient of so many tonight.

"I knew that were you," he whispered, and for a second there was naked hope in those eyes he insisted on trying to hide from me.

I reached for his fingers. "That was the point, Mr. Dixon."

He looked down at my hand and fingered the scrap of red cloth tied there; in this deep twilight it looked black.

"This mine?"

I nodded, watching him slide his fingers over the knot before letting my wrist go. "Yeah. I found it on the road. It was my first clue that you were still safe." I started to tug at it absently. "It was all I had to light up the cocktail, but I couldn't bear to burn the whole thing."

I wanted to tell him I'd kept it because it smelled like him; that if I never found him, I'd have something of his to remember him by. Something to give me a reason to keep going. And hell, he'd already read my journal. There wasn't much else he didn't know about my feelings, at this point. Embarrassment was pathetically moot, now. I wouldn't mention it, though. I felt that if he were so inclined toward me, he would let me know, one way or another, when the time was right.

For a moment we stared at each other so intently I wondered what was going on behind those narrow eyes, and when he started to lean in I wet my lips in anticipation. The movement seemed to snap him out of his daze and he cleared his throat quietly and leaned back. I smiled inside. I knew a close call when I saw one.

Sighing, he got back to the topic at hand.

"I don't want you near 'em, Beth. They got a rule. It's stupid, but it's simple. I don't know how thin's would go down..."

I heard the words under the words. I don't know what I would do if one or more of them decided to rape you.

I pursed my lips.

"I know."

I could feel his gaze on my face but I didn't meet it.

"I overheard Dan and Tony talking while you were sleeping. From what I could gather, they don't think you should "have all the fun". Their words, not mine." I fingered the bowie knife I'd found.

"I swear to God, Daryl-"

"I know." He pulled me in again, resting his chin on top of my head protectively. "I'd kill ever' single one of 'em before I'd..." he let the words dangle there.

I nodded. The words beneath the words.

I rested my forehead against his pulse and replied, "I know you would. I'm thankful for it."

We were quiet. I realised he'd be missed before too long but I had one more thing I needed to know before we had to go our separate ways again, even if only temporarily.

"What's their rule?"

He stopped stroking my arm, and I immediately missed the warm friction. He'd never touched me so much before tonight; I didn't want it to end.

After a moment in which I think he also remembered time was of the essence, he replied.

"You want something, you have to Claim it. Any game you catch, your bed at night. You hafta lay your Claim."

I blinked. "That's it?"

He nodded, and for some reason I had a feeling he had already put a lot of thought into this little tidbit. To me, the solution was obvious.

There was really only two options open to us. We could slip away together and spend the rest of our time watching our backs, because we both knew those men would not let Daryl keep an Unclaimed woman to himself. Or, he could Claim me as his and we could return to the camp together, which, even though this seemed to be the better avenue, would put me at constant risk. Everything depended on them following this rule in this new, lawless world we lived in now.

At first I felt hurt that Daryl would hesitate at all to Claim me in this manner; to me it made the most sense. But after a moment I realised what doing so would infer about us, and I turned red. We weren't together like that, as much as we both knew I wished otherwise. Thankfully he chose not to point that out at this juncture, but still, I couldn't help the feeling that he was rejecting me.

Tamping my vanity down viciously, I said, "What do you think we should do?" I started to pick at the frayed thread in his knee he'd been picking at earlier. "What are our chances if we try to slip away?"

He grunted. "Not good. Joe's good a tracker as me."

"Then I guess the answer is simple." I pried my head out from under his chin. "Claim me, Daryl. Please." I hammered my point home. "Before someone else does."

I saw his eyes widen a fraction at my request. I also saw him shut me out before I could see the tension I'd caused inside of him.

"Daryl? You alright?"

I froze at the sound of Bayonet-Buddy's voice. Daryl, thankfully, was so hunched over me that he hid me from whatever view might've been gleaned in the dark.

"Yeah, I'll be up in a few."

We waited til the man had returned to his post before we dared to breathe again.

I looked up into Daryl's face, and all I could find was reluctance there. Did he not want me that much? Or was I just being a stupid girl and letting my vanities get in the way? His next words confirmed my stupidity, much to my delight.

"I hate puttin' you at so much risk, Beth."

I laid a hand on his heart. "I hate askin' you to." No I didn't.

He hung his head, and I knew he'd made up his mind.

He stood up, pulling me with him before letting go of me and moving away completely.

"If we do this, you have to promise to obey me, Beth. No sassin' me or wanderin' off in a snit, got it? You have to stay with me at all times, no matter what." He looked at me somewhat desperately before the take-charge-redneck mask fell into place again. "And never take off those knives, ya hear?"

Personally I couldn't have been happier with his edict, but he didn't need to know that. Dutifully, I nodded, and bit my tongue in time to prevent a pert, "Yes, Master!" from slipping out.

"I promise, Daryl. Cross m' heart." I made the motions and grinned. Til death do us part, 'cause no way I'm leaving your side alive.

He snorted, but allowed me to thread my fingers through his as he hauled me up over the hill and into what could be the riskiest situation I'd ever been exposed to, aside from the constant threat of walking dead that surrounded us daily. I sincerely hoped this plan worked. But then again, who better to traverse muddy waters with than the alligator, himself?

When we reached the top, he pulled his hand away and I watched him slip the Daryl these men knew into position. His eyes became colder, and his manner more withdrawn and standoffish. He became someone no one should tamper with. I envied him his duplicity. He was going to test its' endurance tonight. If I hadn't lived with him for the past couple years, I'd swear I was meeting the same belligerent, redneck asshole all over again.

He tucked me behind the tree in shadow. "Let me handle 'em. You only come out when I call." He made to turn away but promptly came back. "And no touchy-feely bullshit, hear? It can't be like a few minutes ago. None of that 'damsel-in-distress' crap."

I nodded. He leaned in so close I could smell the heat on his skin.

"And don't speak less'n I talk to you. Only me. Got it?" He poked his finger into my chest for emphasis.

I saluted. He raised a brow but I knew he was satisfied.

Quietly he stepped out into the firelight and ducked between the barbed wire into the camp. I waited patiently for my signal to show myself to come.

"Holy Hell, Daryl. We tought you done died in a squat out there. Pollute any streams?" Bayonet-Buddy cackled.

"Fuck off," Daryl mumbled, and I heard some rustling around, then a snort. Someone groaned.

"Joe." Daryl's low murmur. "Wake up."

The tension in my body was terrible. Anticipation had me shifting from foot to foot.

I heard Joe roll. "What's up, Daryl? Ever'thin' alright?" I heard concern in the older man's voice and hoped it was a good sign.

"Yeah. I just gotta get somethin' straight." Louder, he said, "Hey, ever'body wake up!"

Here we go, I thought. My crossed fingers ached.

Someone grunted loudly after a moment and I heard a muttered, "Wake the fuck up, Len."

Daryl gravelly cleared his throat. "I got somethin' to say to all y'all." He paused. Then, loudly, he announced, "Claimed."

I let out the breath I'd been holding, and prepared to make my appearance. I failed to hide my grin immediately at Daryl's proclamation, but smothered it soon enough.

There was confusion in the camp.

"What you talkin' 'bout, boy?" Len's voice bellowed.

"Yeah, what you mean, Daryl?" Another asked.

Joe said patiently, if not suspiciously, "Explain yourself, Daryl. You never Claimed nothin', 'fore. Or hardly, anyway. Just what are you up to?"

"Come out, Beth."

Ok, I thought, now's your time to shine, Beth Ann Greene. Don't fuck it up.

Setting my face into a neutral expression, I stepped out from behind the tree to face seven men, six of them shocked by what they were seeing, if I was reading their expressions right.

I walked slowly to stand just outside the wire barrier, my hand clearly gripping the hilt of my big knife on my belt. My eyes looked each of them in theirs before stopping at Daryl and staying there. My silence seemed to unnerve them.

There was a moment of utter quiet before Joe started to laugh. The others looked at him like he was nuts. Daryl smirked.

"Well I'll be a monkey's bare-assed uncle! Haw haw!" He bent over, holding his gut, and wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. When he'd calmed down, he slapped Daryl's shoulder. Then he walked over to hold the wire open so I could slip inside.

"Welcome to our humble camp, Miss Greene." His eyes were kind, and still very amused. After a moment I nodded once in thanks and slipped my body through.

Suddenly there was noise from every man in the camp. My quick acceptance seemed to have caused something of an uproar. I froze in my tracks next to Joe and looked to Daryl for guidance. His eyes never left mine.

Len dragged a hand through his shaggy hair and took a menacing step toward me before he seemed to change his mind, turning to Daryl instead.

"What the fuck's this, you lil' bitch? I go to sleep and you're all dewy-eyed over some damn piece of tail you lost-" he gestured at me now, "-and when I wake up you're bringin' another into camp and Claimin' 'er?! What the fuck?!"

Daryl's eyes narrowed further and he finally gave Len his complete attention, but the man was too dumb to back down. Before Daryl could open his mouth, however, Joe spoke up.

"Hey! Climb down outta his ass! And watch your damn mouth." To me he said, "Please pardon our French, ma'am."

I blinked. He kept smiling, and, touching the small of my back lightly, urged me on toward Daryl. I went without hesitation.

"Now all y'all shut the hell up for a second. I realise this stuation is a tad unorthodox, but get over it. What's Claimed is Claimed. That's the rule. You don't like it," here he looked directly at Len, "Hit the road." He looked each man in the eye.

Then, he turned to Daryl and I. The grumbling from the others was hard to ignore.

"Don't pay these dinks any mind, Missy," he told me. "They just ain't seen a pretty woman in a fair bit. Don't take it none too personal." To Daryl he said, "Got your responsibility back. Congrats." And winked. He turned back to the others.

"Now go the fuck to sleep, you asshats! I'm serious."

Joe made to lie down again when Len spoke up.

"I just got one more question, Chief. How she gon' earn her keep?"

There was a silence so deep it could've been cut. Pressed into Daryl's side, I felt his hand squeeze my waist once.

"Not like that." He growled. I glared at each one that dared look at me.

"There you have it. Good night." Joe's voice was exasperated as he settled into his bedroll.

Leading me to his blanket, Daryl pushed me down gently to sit before him, and reached into his bag to pull out his leftover share of badger to hand to me. Then he sat down in a way that blocked me from the view of the others.

He breathed, "You a'ight?"

I took a bite and smiled. "I am now," I whispered.

He snorted but didn't smile. It didn't matter. I knew he was happy.

"'M goin' to sleep. Don't leave my side, Beth. For anythin'. Always within my reach, that clear?"

I swallowed. "Crystal."

He laid back on his half of the blanket and laid his wrist over his face, crossing his ankles. I knew he wouldn't sleep til I had laid down too, so I made short work of the badger meat and scooted close to him for warmth. He wrapped his free arm around my shoulders loosely while I curled into his side. I could still feel eyes on us.

Before I closed my eyes I murmured, "Thank you, Daryl."

"Hmm."

When I opened my eyes again, it was to the sound of birds twittering all around, and a soft, warm blanket over me. The rugged scent of leather filled my nose.

Fall in Georgia used to be my favourite time of year; the days were blistering hot, the nights pleasantly cool, but we were deep into the season. The days were still hot, but the nights were getting so cool that it took that heat longer and longer to build every morning. So the warm leather jacket someone had draped over me at some point through the night was a welcome feeling.

"You up?"

I stretched at the sound of Daryl's brisk yet quiet inquiry. Judging by the light, he was probably the first one awake.

"Yeah." I sat up and yawned. With only his vest on over his shirt (complete with sleeves! I nearly tipped from shock - and disappointment), I wondered if he was chilly. I offered the jacket back to him with a sleepy smile.

"Thanks."

He waved it away and wouldn't keep eye contact with me. "Nah, I'm good. You keep it."

"Won't you need it?"

He stood up and hefted his crossbow over his shoulder. "Enough chitchat. You comin', or what?"

His manner, though gruff and somewhat disrespectful, did not surprise me. Sure I didn't like it, but I figured I'd better suck it up. If I was going to be in this camp he couldn't treat me like I was glass. Like he cared too much. I got it. I'd even thought of a way to prevent it. I could be rude, too.

"Yeah, yeah, don't get your panties in a knot, Dixon," I mumbled, slipping my arms into the jacket sleeves. It was ridiculously too big for me, but that mattered little. The opportunity to have his unique scent all around me would not be wasted.

He raised a brow at my disrespectful tone, but since no one was up yet but us, I waggled my brows suggestively. He bit his lip and turned away, before he could laugh, I'd wager. Picking up the bottle of water sitting next to our blanket, I followed him through the barrier and out into the forest.

It was several minutes before he spoke again. He was walking so fast I could barely keep up, but when he finally stopped to let me catch up I was concentrating so hard on following his trail on the ground that I plowed right into his back.

I grunted, and rubbed my nose where I'd smooshed it on the bow's sight upon impact.

He didn't move, or even cuss. He just stood there. I waited.

"Anyone behind us?"

I turned to look. After a long minute of searching the foliage for movement or any sign of danger, I said, "Doesn't look like it."

He nodded. "Good." Turning, he smirked at me in the fashion I'd grown accustomed to when we were alone and he thought he had something clever to say.

I started to smile. "What?"

He looked down at me, then slid the bow off his shoulder and handed it to me. "'Bout time we continued that lesson, eh Greene?" He didn't smile with his mouth, but it was clear in his eyes.

The gravelly tone of his voice might hide his true feelings from the men back at the camp, but to me his intent shone clearly through. He was happy to have me back again.

I laughed and hefted the weapon onto my arm. "Maybe we can find a stream, too." I turned with a smile to take point. "I could really use a bath."

"Yeah," he mumbled, "Start trackin'."

I picked a direction and started looking for signs of an animal trail, and his constant presence behind me was comforting. His embarrassed silence was also highly amusing.

I even thought of suggesting that I'd scrub his back if he wanted to scrub mine, but knew that would make him too uncomfortable. He may have had his crude moments, but not like that; not when he was sober and in my company, anyway. Who knew what he talked about with those lamo's asleep at camp.

"Get yer mind outta the gutter," he growled suddenly, "And keep it on the whole picture."

I looked up, the smile melting from my face. A walker stumbled slowly ahead of us, looking rather lost and pathetic. I frowned. I'd been so absorbed in my thoughts I hadn't heard it or seen it, and that was bad. I couldn't afford too many amateur mistakes like that.

"Sorry."

Daryl chuckled softly. "If you're gonna think dirty thoughts, Greene, don't hold back on my account."

I turned and stared at him in shock. "Daryl Dixon!" I whispered, mockingly indignant, my eyes narrowed. "You get your mind outta the gutter!"

He shrugged. "Man's mind is simple. You say bath, we think naked. Not hard."

I closed my eyes and bit down on my lip to keep from bursting out laughing at his unintended innuendo and alerting the walker. He gave me the exasperated/harrassed parent look. "Stop."

I lifted my brows and shrugged. "You brought it up."

He flicked my ear lightly and pointed past it to the walker, which was slowly making its' way in the opposite direction. We would still kill it, but we were in no hurry to do so.

"Look."

Twenty yards away, a tuft of reddish fur wavered in a slight breeze. I looked back at him. "Fox?"

He nodded. "Maybe. Find the trail."

Looking at the ground again, I didn't see anything immediately, but soon I spotted something under a leaf.

I pointed.

He bent down next to me to examine the print in the mud, and nodded. "See the size? Too small for a badger, too big for a 'coon. See how it looks like a lil' dog track?"

I leaned close, reaching out to touch the imprint in the mud.

"Yeah."

"Toes are too blunt'n round to be a 'coon or squirrel."

I remembered squirrel prints for their small, delicate, tapered toes, and raccoons for their almost human-like toes tipped with claws. I sighed. The tiny impression in the mud reminded me of Judith's adorable little feet.

He looked at me, then nudged my shoulder. "Why the long face?"

I shifted so I was more comfortable, and looked up to check the position of the walker. It was idling next to a tree.

"I miss Judith. And Maggie, and Carl. Everyone."

He looked at his hands and then at the sun. "Yeah. Me, too. Wonder who took Lil' Asskicker..."

Suddenly I stood up, walked to the dead man staring blankly at the tree, and rammed my bowie knife into his skull. He dropped like a rock and I started to viciously kick the corpse.

I didn't know I was crying until Daryl's arms pinned mine down and he held my quivering, sobbing, struggling body tightly to his chest, much the same as I'd held him at the shack but this time I was not free to break the contact if I wished. I sucked in a huge breath and let out a long keening wail for the loss of everyone I'd ever loved. It was so tiring to be strong for so long. If not for the comfort of Daryl behind me, shushing my outbursts and resting his chin on my shoulder, bowing me forward to fit into the curve of his body, I'd have laid there in the dirt and just let whatever might come along, take me.

After a while he pulled me down into his lap, and we sat next to the corpse as he rocked me like a baby, my arms locked so tight around his neck that it must have hurt him, but he never complained. He just rubbed my back and held me close. It was more than I ever could have asked of him, but he comforted me without question. I was grateful.

I sniffled loudly, and he let go of me to untie the scrap of cloth around my wrist so I could dry my eyes, but I balked. Shaking my head ferociously, I heard him say, "Beth-"

"-No! Then it won't smell like you anymore!" I blurted, and the tears started all over again. I was too distraught to wonder what he would make of my bald statement.

He didn't say another word. He simply hitched me tighter to his chest and let my crying jag run its' course. When it had, he stood us both up and held me steady until he was sure I could stay upright on my own.

Brushing the stray fly-aways back from my forehead, he looked into my eyes and asked, "Better?"

I stared back, sniffing. His eyes really were a beautiful blue. I blinked, then choked a little, but nodded.

He leaned down and pecked my forehead, patting my back. "You scared me for a second there."

I giggled.

"What's so damn funny?" He asked, sounding slightly offended.

I wiped my nose and said in the deepest voice I could muster in imitation of him, "'I ain't afraid of nothin'!'"

He made an annoyed face at me but ruined it when his lip curled up. I smiled as he swatted my shoulder gently.

"Tell anyone 'bout this, and I'll give ya somethin' to cry 'bout," he said grouchily, turning away to scan the forest around us. Hiding his embarrassment. I grinned as I wiped my eyes.

"Daryl."

He looked back at me. "Yeah?"

I hefted his crossbow again and let my smile turn mirthful. "I love you."

His face fell blank like strings had been cut but I was past him by then, looking for the trail of the fox again. I didn't expect him to answer me. It simply felt good to express myself, unfettered, for the first time. He could do with the information what he wished. But deep down, I hoped I'd reached his soul, and maybe provided him with some comfort of his own. It was a beautiful feeling to know that you weren't alone anymore.

Two hours later we returned to camp, Daryl hauling our catch. We'd caught the fox, four squirrels, three rabbits and a pair of quail. The group would eat good today, thanks to us.

At first things had been awkwardly quiet after my confession, but we'd quickly fallen back into our companionable pattern and Daryl never mentioned it again. We'd actually had a lot fun together.

Halfway up the hill to camp, as we were laughing about a shared memory from our prison days, Daryl reached out to touch my arm, halting me. The intense look on his face alerted me that the good times were over, for now anyway.

I nodded, telling him I understood: no more touchy-feely's. Inwardly I rolled my eyes. In other words, no more fun.

As the other men spotted us, their loud discussion grew quiet, and as Daryl held the wires open for me, Joe remarked, "Well, that explains a lot, don't it." He shot a significant look at Len, who narrowed his eyes but made no comment.

I raised a brow. I really didn't like that asshole.

Joe approached us and said, "That's quite a catch, there, you two." The request to partake in our haul hung in the air.

Daryl threw down the carcasses near the fire and muttered, "We'll share. But the fox's hers." He jerked his head at me.

Joe grinned. "You make that kill, Missy?"

I smiled lazily.

"She killed 'em all."

Daryl's quiet statement had the men exchanging several surprised and skeptical looks. I unslung the crossbow from my back and pointed it up at the sky, as I'd seen Daryl do several times when he needed it handy but didn't quite yet need to use it. I hoped I looked intimidating as I tilted my head at everyone in general.

Joe continued to smile as he shook his head in wonder. "Well, the camp thanks you, Miss Greene. Will be good to have a full belly again."

I nodded graciously but kept my counsel, making my way to where Daryl had sat down on his blanket and had laid out the dead fox for skinning. This was to be my next lesson. He had promised to teach me how to skin, butcher, and cook any animal for food, and how to process its fur for use as warm clothing. I couldn't wait to have a pretty pair of fox-fur mitts for winter.

Things in camp settled down after that, and I almost forgot about the eyes on Daryl and I as we sat thigh to thigh, deeply involved in our task. Soon the smell of roasting meat was making my mouth water despite the bloody mess preparing it had turned out to be.

When we were almost finished I whispered, "Did your Dad and Merle teach you all this stuff, too?"

He nodded. "Mmhmm."

I wiped off my hands on the dead leaves next to me and said, "I'm glad. I'm sorry about what happened to him, by the way." I meant Merle. Not his father.

Daryl wiped his brow with the back of his hand and said, his cheeks slightly pink at my praise, "Shut up." His tone was light. I smiled.

"For a while there we thought maybe you two'd run off."

Daryl and I looked away from each other and then at Joe simultaneously. I guess we looked silly because he started to laugh again. The camp had settled around us; probably because everyone was full for the first time in ages. It was almost... peaceful.

After the meal, in which I rudely licked my fingers clean, ignoring the furtive glances all around me, I nudged my companion. "I gotta take care of some business."

He finished chewing and swallowed, absently reaching for the crossbow. We got up, his hand touching my back, as I slipped out first then held the opening wide for him. As we went a short distance away, we could clearly hear the others talking.

"You really believe they ain't bangin'?"

I almost guffawed out loud at that. Daryl snorted. "Typical."

The speculation up there continued as he turned his back and I unbuckled my jeans. "Are you really all that surprised?" I murmured. Ahhhhhhh.

"Naw. I'm kinda shocked they waited this long to discuss it, sure."

It was my turn to snort. "Doesn't sound like the first time to me. Can't say as I blame 'em, though. You had to say it." I shimmied my jeans up and then took the bow from him so I could watch his back out here.

He walked to a tree. I hear a ziiip.

"How so?"

I scanned the dusk. "Men are simple."

He chuckled. "So's I did. True story, honey." Ziiip.

"Gimme that." He held out his hand.

I gave him the weapon and he followed me back. As we approached, Joe was saying, "-Just exactly how long does it take you to bang a woman, Tony?"

Daryl and I exchanged a look. He raised his brows; I shook my head and lifted my finger. Let's wait and listen!

Daryl rolled his eyes. I pinched him playfully. He made a face.

Tony seemed to think hard. "Well, not too long, usually-"

"Can't hold yer wad long enough, eh Tone?" Bayonet-Buddy chuckled.

"Shut up!" Tony snarled.

"Now, how long does it take you to track, and kill, ten animals?"

A silence fell. Len sputtered, "That ain't fair, there were two of 'em out there."

"Yeah, but he said she did all the killin'."

"That don't mean she did all the trackin', moron."

Joe sighed loudly. I was beginning to understand why. This was like kindergarten all over again. Daryl looked at me meaningfully. I swatted his chest.

"Perhaps the point, gents, is that what those two do out there, on their own time, in fuckin' private, is their own business. Quit actin' like a bunch of jealous pussies, for Chist' sakes."

There was a short silence before Dan piped up, "Why won't she speak to us?"

"'Cause she's 'fraid." Len.

"Pffft. Yeah, right. If that girlie's 'fraid of us, I'll eat my hat. And I don't wear no damn hat. I'd bet she's tougher'n all of us."

I smiled saucily at Daryl. He rolled his eyes again.

Joe chuckled. "Now that, I agree with."

Daryl started to nudge me forward. I shot him a pissy look but did as he wished. I headed to the fence and a hush fell as they spotted me. I turned around to look at Daryl but he wasn't directly behind me. He was still in shadow, but the crossbow was still up where he'd had it when he urged me out here.

I held open the fence, and finally he came out from behind the tree, and visibly pulled up his fly in front of all of us, then flashed them a look that said, "What?" There was a lit cigarette in his mouth.

A round of guffaws broke out around the camp and he grinned cockily at me as he slid through the hole. As he did I whispered, "I hate you."

His face clearly indicated he saw right through my lie, and he just puffed out a cloud of smoke at me and carried on. I went one better then and smiled bashfully, like I was embarrassed, as I passed him on my way to our blanket.

Under my breath but none too quietly I murmured, "Thanks, baby," and winked, trailing my finger across his vest under his chin. It was funny to watch the pink creep up his neck to light his ears aflame. There were a few more chuckles at that.

I laid down and promptly closed my eyes. It was a long time before I felt him give in and get comfortable against my back, though he insisted on having the last word by "accidentally" rubbing something stiff against my backside until he fell asleep.

Fuckin' men and their vengeful ways.

The next few days went relatively smoothly. The third night we took turns telling scary stories around our fires (I know, mature, right?), not that I was allowed to participate. And my guardian got grouchier as the days wore on. I didn't know if maybe all the protein we were consuming was making him constipated, or perhaps he had a tick, but if I had to hazard a guess it was because he'd decided to trust them and allowed me to start talking after the fourth night, and now everyone wanted to know my opinion on everything. Even Len had warmed up to me of late; I often caught him watching me thoughtfully. I didn't put too much stock in this though - I still didn't like him, but he kept his distance most of the time.

No, I'd say frustration was driving my prince of the hunt's mood southward. Though guessing exactly what he was frustrated about was tricky. I had gratefully taken the fox fur he'd tanned for me and made a pair of mitts from it. Hell, there'd been enough skin to make a pair for him, too, though he didn't seem to take my efforts at gifting him very well. He'd thanked me, but it'd been the most half-assed thank-you I'd ever heard. Perhaps he was angry because I'd made mitts for the others, too?

One night I sang for them, and another night they'd gathered all their spare cloth and gave it to me as a gift, telling me to make myself a scarf or new blanket now that the nights were really starting to get chilly. I was properly grateful and thanked them all, but Daryl remained obstinate. The only time he'd even really speak to me was if it was necessary, and he didn't take me hunting much anymore, either. This I could not abide for much longer.

About a week after he'd started to get pissy I decided to take matters into my own hands and cure this angry melancholy of his. I didn't know what exactly I could do to rid him of it, but I knew I had to try, and I had the perfect excuse to get him alone, too.

That morning when I rolled over I was surprised to see Daryl watching me intently, his face completely open, and even though he shut me out quickly I'd seen what I needed to. The Daryl I'd fallen in love with was still in there - pouting.

He tried to roll away from me but I wasn't having that.

"Hey." I shook his shoulder. "Come back here, I need to talk to you."

He shrugged my hand off. "Leave me be." His tone was rude. I frowned, deeply. Oh, hell no.

"Fine, then. Be a shithead." I got up and gathered my things, slipping my big knife into place and taking my spare change of clothes to the fence. As I bent to slip through it he sat up and hissed, "Hey! Where the hell you goin', girl?"

So, we were back to that, were we? Ugh!

I hissed back, "I'm disgusting. We all are. I'm taking a bath. I can't stand the smell of myself anymore!"

He threw off the blanket I'd made and got up quickly. "Oh no you fuckin' don't!" He growled, and stomped over to me. "Not without protection. You ain't goin' nowhere!"

I raised my brows and sassed, "Then get your goddamn crossbow, Dad, and let's go!"

His face turned ugly like it did when he was drunk and he had something nasty to say. "Don't call me that."

"What? Dad? Why not? It's how your acting, isn't it? Like a nosy, over-bearing father. Well, you're not my Daddy, Daryl! My Daddy would never have treated me with such disrespect."

I felt a tear eek out and roll down my cheek. Daryl was about to hiss something back at me when Joe rolled over and groaned, "For Christ' sakes, Daryl, just take the girl for a bath! We're tryin' to fuckin' sleep, here!"

There were several grunted agreements.

Daryl was bristling with pent up anger, but I raised my brows and jerked my head. "Get a move on, Sunshine."

He was clearly not happy as he swiped up the crossbow and tore through the fence, ripping his sleeve in the process and stomping off without me. I sighed loudly.

"Beth?"

I looked back. "Yeah, Joe?"

He smiled tiredly. "Give that poor fuck some sugar, would ya? I can't take this walkin' on eggshells 'round you two nomore. It's gettin' tiresome."

I blushed. He had a point.

"I'll do my best."

"Thank God for small favours," someone muttered. I fondly flipped off the camp in general and slipped the fence, chasing after Daryl, who was noisily crashing through the bush like he had no concerns whatsoever about attracting unwanted attention to himself. I rolled my eyes and mentally prepared myself for the fight ahead.

When he finally slowed down it was in the middle of a creek five minutes away from camp and he kicked at the water, yelling like a kid throwing a temper tantrum.

"Here's your fuckin' stream! Are ya happy now you-"

I dropped my shit on the ground and strode out to him and slapped his face before he called me something he'd really regret. This disregard for our safety, all this noise, was so unlike him.

He stared at me in shock. My chest heaved from trying to keep up. He took a deep breath and before I knew what he was doing he had dropped the bow and grabbed my face, pressing his chapped lips to mine in the first adult kiss I'd ever experienced.

Daryl kissed like he hunted: aggressively. He pressed me to him with such force my ribs creaked, but I'd known going in that if it was what he needed, it probably wouldn't be the gentle deflowering I'd hoped for. It would be hard and primal and I'd probably end up feeling used and sore but if it got him out of this funk, I'd deal with it.

When he came up for air he growled, "Take your clothes off," but didn't give me a chance to before he just started peeling my shirt and bra off me impatiently. I glanced around quickly for danger as he had his way with my chest, squeezing me hard enough to make me twinge until I was satisfied we wouldn't be interrupted anytime soon. Keeping an eye out was going to be a chore.

He sucked and bit me until I pushed him down further, and he scrabbled at my belt and button until he shoved my jeans down my legs and nearly tipped me over backward when his tongue found my most sensitive spot. Chuckling deeply, he held me steady by my asscheeks until I started to whimper and squirm. This onslaught was more than I'd expected and when he looked up at me and squeezed my breast again I had to smile at him. Apparently he was starting to feel much better.

Pushing me back to lay down on the bank, he climbed up to hover over me before he attacked my mouth again with a fervor that distracted me from the clink of his belt buckle and the sound of his zipper zinging. I found myself frantically stroking his neck, ears, jaw, collarbone and shoulders, and his buttons got popped off as I ripped open the neck of his shirt to get at his chest. Suddenly I felt him between my legs and just as he thrust himself inside me I looked up from sucking his neck and gasped, "Walker!"

Daryl let go of me immediately and jumped up to kill it, finding no weapon at his waist where it should have been and panicking when he realised he had nothing but his bare hands for defense.

Rolling over, I dug out my knife from under my clothes just as Daryl started to hold it off by kicking it hard in the chest, knocking it on its' ass. I scambled over to it as he stepped on its' chest, pinning it, its' arms flailing - I was so afraid it would scratch him - and I stabbed it in its' eye, hard. Its' brains exploded all over me.

Black gunk dripped out of my hair and down my cheek as I sat back, disgusted. Breathing harshly, I looked up at Daryl to see him standing there in all his glory, an erection proud enough to make me blush just inches away. It was covered in my blood. But other than the slightly bloody barbed-wire scratch on his arm, his skin was untouched.

Sighing, I stood to wash up, the mood totally gone. Or so I thought.

Reaching the water's edge, I splashed myself a few times til I was satisfied that all the gunk was gone. A pair of warm hands touched my shoulders and turned me to face my, for all intents and purposes, almost-lover.

He didn't say a word, but I could see the regret and shame in his eyes. I hated it. So I pushed him away gently to rinse my hair but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back.

"Don't," he whispered. I tilted my head.

"Don't what?"

He swallowed, his dirty hair shadowing his eyes from me. "Don't walk away, Bethy. Don't ever walk away from me." Leaning in, his kiss this time was gentle.

Soon I was warm all over, and when he finally released me he said, "Get dressed. I ain't havin' your first time be out here, exposed, where I can't protect ya. Hurry."

I did as he bid me, and I asked, "Where are we going?" But he just smirked. I smiled.

When we were both dressed he pulled me back to camp, I assumed to let the guys know that we were going away for a while. As I stared at his hand clutching mine, hand-holding being something which I never thought Daryl Dixon would willingly engage in (his whole demeanor had screamed "No Touchy!" for as long as I'd known him), since he was so adamant about there being no hanky-panky between us (ahem, epic fail, sir), but I supposed he'd gotten over that. Only one way to find out. Also, I had a request of my own for when we got to... wherever it was he was taking me.

"Umm, Daryl?"

He stopped and turned to me. "Yeah, what?" The impatience in his tone was hard to ignore. I pursed my lips. He never dropped my hand.

"Are you okay, now?"

He blinked. "Whatta you mean?"

Inwardly I rolled my eyes. One-Track-Mind-Dixon. "I mean you were really weird this week. Grouchy. Why? And are you better now?" I hoped that wasn't too many questions for him to process all at once.

He stared at me for a moment longer before turning to walk slowly next to me instead of hastily dragging me like before. He sighed silently and shrugged.

"Sure, I'm better. I was fine when we were 'lone before, right?"

I nodded, understanding that he meant after the prison when we were alone. "Yeah. Until you got drunk."

He narrowed his eyes at me in a manner in which I just knew he was thinking, 'I ain't never gonna live that down, am I?'

"Yeah, well, I ain't plannin' on drinkin' nomore moonshine, a'ight. 'Sides, I hear that shit'll make you go blind." He glanced at me for my reaction.

I stuck my tongue out at him. But I didn't reply. I hoped that if I maintained the silence long enough, he would feel the need to fill it. That had never worked in the past, but this time I had prodded the questions into his head. Hopefully he was meditating on some answers.

After we were really close to camp and he still hadn't replied, I said, "Listen, if you don't wanna tell me-"

"-I will. But not here."

"You will?" I smiled gently up into his eyes.

He scratched his head. "Yeah." His tone suggested he wanted to do anything but.

I squeezed his fingers, but didn't push him. "I'm just glad you're happy again," I said, rocking up on my toes to kiss his cheek, but he turned his head so my lips landed on his mouth, instead. I felt his free hand thread into my bloody hair to hold my head steady where he wanted it.

There was clapping behind us, and I felt Daryl's cheeks flame as I turned around to smile at Joe's huge grin and the other guys' laughter. I grinned sheepishly but couldn't stop the embarrassed laugh that bubbled up my throat.

Joe came down the hill.

"Well, kids, I see you worked ever'thin' out, eh?" He slapped Daryl's shoulder.

Daryl shrugged but he wouldn't say anything. His cocky smirk was answer enough.

I raised a brow as I smiled.

Spotting Tony, Daryl jogged up the hill. "Hey, man, can I borrow your gun for a sec?"

Tony frowned but handed the weapon over.

Joe looked questioningly at me. I shrugged.

Daryl put the scope to his eye and swung it west, then south. After a moment he said, "Uh huh."

Tony said, "What?"

Daryl just shook his head and handed the gun back. Then, he ducked inside the fence for a moment.

Joe said, "I'm gonna assume your endeavour was successful, then?"

I smiled. "More or less."

He started to laugh. "Good work, girl."

I turned red under the praise. I guess the cat was out of the bag, now. Maggie was right: it was embarrassing when everyone figured out you were having sex. Though, technically, we didn't have sex, 'cause of the interruption and all, but I had a sneaky suspicion Daryl was not going to let things stand that way long. It made me feel warm inside.

In a minute he was back again, with all our stuff packed onto his back.

There were protests from the men still in camp (we were their best hunters, after all), and Joe asked when he approached, "Goin' somewhere?"

Daryl nodded and handed me the crossbow. "Yep. And we ain't gon' be back for a week."

Joe burst out laughing, and there were guffaws up the hill. I looked up there, my face as red as a tomato but unable to stop the embarrassed grin that grew on my lips. Only Len looked angry. I shoved him out of my mind. Asshole would never be happy for Daryl.

Grabbing my hand again, Daryl nodded to Joe, all business now. "Are you breakin' camp soon?"

Joe nodded. "Yeah. We spotted a sign of that murderin' shit what got Lou this mornin', and he's followin' the tracks. We'll be headed that way 'fore noon."

Daryl nodded back. "How far 'head is he?"

Joe shrugged. "Week or so, I'd guess. We'll catch him at any rate."

"We'll be back by then. Meet you at the rail bridge?"

Joe grinned. "Willdo. Have fun, you two."

I waved goodbye as Daryl led me away, and I couldn't help the stupid grin on my face as we made our way toward whatever he had spotted through the scope, probably a ranger's cabin. I day-dreamed of hot water and clean sheets as we picked our way west.

When we stopped for a bathroom break, I giggled as I squatted behind a bush.

He stood right next to me now, though his back was still turned while he guarded me. I guess seeing someone naked took away from the embarrassment of being with them while they peed.

"Somethin' funny?" He glanced at me before scanning our surroundings became necessary again.

I finished and stood. "Guess you can't say you ain't never been on vacation anymore."

He turned back to me with a lusty glint to his narrow eyes. I shrugged with a smile. "This little side-trip sure feels like a vacation to me." Lower I added, "Time alone with you is always something I look forward to, now."

He chuckled, and I marveled at the change this day had wrought in him. He'd smiled more today and since the day we'd reunited than I'd ever seen him smile in the two years we'd been living with the same group of people. Of course, back then we had very little to do with each other. My job became looking after Judith and his as a council member had been defense and procurement, and basically being Rick's right-hand man. Rick had never made a move without getting Daryl's opinion on it. Rick was a wise man.

We didn't say anything for a while after that, until we met a wide stream that I needed help crossing since I'd taken on our possessions while he took point, and as his hand gripped my wrist during the crossing our eyes met and caught.

We stood there staring at each other for a minute when he said, "Did you mean it, Beth?"

I blinked. "Mean what?" The confusion on my face gave me away. Usually I was good at guessing what he was thinking.

He pulled me the rest of the way over and kept me leaning against his chest as he seemed to reconsider his question. The he shrugged and mumbled, "Nothin'."

I'd seen him do this before. He wanted to express something but he was holding back. I felt my throat tighten. Probably to keep himself from getting hurt.

Since the beginning of our aquaintance, Daryl had been several things: rude, annoying, scary, hurt, sweet, quiet, protective. Never had he been in any way promiscuous. Not that I'd ever seen. As far as I knew he'd been adamantly celibate since this whole outbreak started. Whatever he'd been before this whole thing, he was not the same man today. I'd watched him evolve from an asshole redneck to a trusted member of the group, without whose expertise we all would have died several times over. Now that our original group was splintered off again, I thanked God for being the one to end up with him. I knew that at first he'd been unhappy to be stuck with me; hell, I would have been too, in his position. I wasn't good for much, less than a month ago. A glorified babysitter, really, was my only claim to fame. But despite his feelings, he'd taken responsibility for my welfare and looked after me, putting up with everything I'd had to throw at him, not always with grace, but care, nonetheless, in his own coarse way. I'd seen him take out his frustration with me on walkers because I knew he was far too honorable a man to ever hit a woman, no matter how big a bitch she was being at the time. I'd seen his sweet side, the side that, despite there being almost no hope, spent several days risking his life attempting to find a lost child and bring solace to her mama. I'd seen his apathy, his anger, his tears, his disgust. The only thing I hadn't seen yet was his love.

And that's when it clicked.

He tried to let go of me and take point again but I hauled him back, and reached up to brush away his bangs so I could see his eyes.

"Do you mean, when I said I loved you?"

His face remained impassive, eyes slightly narrowed, his lips relaxed. The lines around his eyes were deeper than usual, though. I'd hit the nail on the head.

As I looked at him, it became apparent that he was not going to answer me, but really, his silence was answer enough. He was probably afraid I'd been joking and hadn't meant it, and if I was, he was not going to open up to me and let me all the way into himself. I knew now that he would have sex with me, that was kinda the point of this trip, but he would hold back from me the most important part of himself if I didn't act to prevent it. He would never love me in return if I couldn't show him it was okay to love, himself. That he was worthy of being loved.

I felt my heart sink for this poor man. He'd been in pain for so long. So much so, that he found it almost impossible to give love, let alone allow himself to receive it.

I thought of how he'd referred to his father and brother. Dumbass. Asshole. My heart broke. He tried to push everyone away when they started to become fond of him. He'd even tried to do it to me.

I slid my hands behind his neck and locked my fingers there, bringing our lips close. I kissed him gently, and when he'd lost his stiff posture and let his arms rest around my waist, I told him.

"I meant it, Daryl. I know you read my journal."

He shifted uncomfortably but I held fast.

"You know how I feel. What I need to know now, is why you think I wouldn't have meant it?" I hoped that this question wouldn't garner me his anger or resentment, but I was prepared to persist in my love for him, no matter how much he might try to fight me on it.

He lowered his gaze. I held my breath.

"I didn't think you'd want someone like me."

I frowned a little in question, but didn't interrupt.

"You know, someone... Damaged. Old." He laughed but there was no humour in it. It sounded almost more like a dry sob. "Worthless."

And there it was.

I dreaded what I was going to say next but knew I had to ask him. He couldn't heal himself until he told his tale.

"Now," I leaned forward til my face was resting on his fluttering heart, "Who on Earth told you, you were worthless, Daryl Dixon?" One of these days I was going to learn his middle name.

"Ever'one." He rested his chin on my head. I played with the long hair at his nape, soothingly. "My Dad. Merle. My mama died when I was real little, you know. Don't hardly remember her nomore."

He paused. I waited.

"Merle always told me, no one'd ever give a shit about me 'cept him. He didn't, though. Not like he should've. He said, I had to be a man. And men don't cry, or take no shit from nobody. A real man ain't never anybody's bitch."

I could hear the tears in his voice, the pain. I held on tighter.

"My Daddy..." After this he sobbed for real, and my own tears were starting to run now, too. I started to stroke his neck and shoulders.

"Let it out, honey."

He sniffled loudly and rested his cheek on top of my head. His breath was hitched.

"My Daddy used to get lit so bad and go off with whores whenever he could find 'em. Leave me an' Merle to fend for ourselves, when Merle weren't in juvie. Then, it was only me. When he was sober he taught us how to survive. He were nice. But when he were drunk..."

Daryl gently pried my arms off and backed up a few steps. His eyes were wet and red. Mine were, too. I didn't know how much more of this I wanted to hear.

He slipped off his vest, then unbuttoned his shirt. He slid it off and slowly turned to show me his back.

I put my hand to my mouth. Aside from the two demon tattoos on his right shoulderblade, his back was a mess of scar tissue. The most faded were narrow and white. The most recent, which I was sure were likely at the very least ten years old, were still slightly pink. They were wide and flat. They were from a belt.

I'd seen scars like this before. My Daddy had treated an abused horse a few years ago, and I was saddened to realise that that animal and Daryl acted much the same around anyone who came too close. The horse had been a beautiful racer once, but a careless owner had beat it viciously with a leather belt after it broke its' leg and could only thereafter serve as a stud. Its' skin had been raw and infected by the time my Daddy had gotten to him, and it took days before the horse would even let anyone get near him to treat his wounds. I remembered crying my heart out when I'd seen that poor animal. I started to cry again now, for Daryl.

"Oh, Daryl..." I reached out to touch him, and he flinched, but I didn't let that stop me. Gently, I touched every scar, and followed my fingers with my lips. Then, I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed my body against his bare skin.

"You're beautiful, Daryl Dixon."

He snorted, "What're you goin' on about? I'm disgustin'."

I shook my head. "No. You are beautiful." I ran my hands slowly up his back, gently dragging my nails over the bumps and dips. "You are perfect. Worth ten times those dopes back there."

He turned in my grasp.

"How can you say that?" He whispered, touching my face.

I kissed his lips. "Because it's true."

He squashed me to him. "I ain't never shown anyone my scars before. I thought when I did you'd..." His voice was raw. He shuddered.

"You thought I'd leave you?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

I squeezed him back. "I told you I was never gonna leave you. Remember? I meant that, too."

"I don't deserve you, Beth."

I held his face. "You deserve to be happy, Daryl. You are the best man I know." I smiled bigger at him and looked up from under my lashes. "Better even than my Daddy. I think he would've been proud to give me into your keepin', Daryl."

He smiled, and this time, it reached his eyes.

Daryl got dressed again. We gathered our things and picked up the pace. Night would fall soon.

The heat of the day wasn't terrible but it was enough to make me take off the leather jacket that had become mine almost two weeks ago. It still smelled like him, even though he hadn't worn it since. I slung it over my pack.

Walkers out here were far and few between, thank God. As time went on I'd noticed that they seemed to get slower, more rotten, brittle. Perhaps they were starving to death. Literally.

Daryl was still on point, and I admired the way his lithe body moved through nature, like he'd been born to it. He was more comfortable out here than in Atlanta, I'd bet. I watched him duck under a branch, then hold it up so I could pass. I smiled at him. He winked.

Our silence was deeply comfortable after his confession about his past. I knew he didn't tell me everything, but that was okay. He'd told me enough for now. I knew he'd tell me more eventually, when he was ready. I would support him all the way. Suddenly I remembered the request I was going to make of him before we'd returned to Joe's camp this morning. It seemed like so long ago.

"Hey."

He stopped, and looked back at me. I raised my brows.

"Aren't you hot in those long sleeves?"

He blinked. When I waggled my brows, he literally laughed out loud. I did, too.

He smirked at me boyishly. "You wanna see my guns, honey?"

I loved the endearment on his lips. His husky voice grated deliciously on my senses, like a well-loved teddy bear feels to a homesick child.

I smiled in what I hoped was a sexy manner and nodded slowly. He set down the bow.

"I'll do you one better." He took off his vest and his shirt, then put his vest back on and threw his shirt in my face playfully.

"Lil' souvenir for ya."

"I'm ever so grateful." I tucked it under the jacket on my pack. I'd have to wash our clothes soon; they were getting rather ripe.

He hefted the bow again and flexed for me. I reached out to feel the firmness of his bicep.

"Those are really nice," I breathed.

He preened. I giggled.

As I fell in behind him again, I asked, "So, where are we going, again?"

He looked at me over his shoulder; his face was smug. "You'll see."

I shook my head. "Stubborn man." There was absolutely no conviction in my insult, and he knew it.

"Hey," he said, cocky, lightly, "You know you love me."

"That's right." I replied. He paused in his tracks for a second. "I do."

He turned and ran his fingers through my hair so gently I felt my stomach flip.

"Pretty girl," he breathed, and kissed me. But he kept it short.

"C'mon. I wanna be there before we lose the light."

I did my best to keep up.

Just as the sun was starting to set, and my gut was starting to rumble, Daryl held up his arm for me to stop.

He came back to me, his face set. I tilted my head.

"'Fore I scout ahead, 'cause we're almost there," he held his fingers to my lips when I made to protest his leaving me behind, "I wanna say I'm sorry, Bethy."

I blinked. "For what?"

He looked at the dirt. "For actin' and brayin' like a jackass these past few days. And for... nearly rapin' ya this mornin'."

I took a deep breath and put my hands on my hips. "Daryl Di- what's your middle name?"

He looked at me sheepishly, but there was still the hard glint that a hard life had put in his eyes.

"Dwayne, ma'am." His tone was respectful.

I crinkled my nose and smiled. "Really? That's... Kinda fitting, actually." I shook my head to clear that thought, and started again.

"Daryl Dwayne Dixon! You did not nearly rape me this mornin'! Did you hear me once say no? Or stop?"

He thought about it, then shook his head.

"Exactly. I was in no way coerced, unwilling or otherwise." I raised my brow and looked away. "And you brayed for more like a week."

He pouted.

"But that's beside the point. Aside from that, apology accepted." I dropped my arms in defeat.

He glanced up. "What?"

I sighed, took his free hand, and played with his knife hilt with the other. "I'm sorry, too. For slappin' you."

He snorted. "Pffft. That ain't nothin'. I had it comin'."

I shook my head. "Even so, I won't do it again."

He wrapped his bow-arm around my shoulders and kissed my temple.

"Now," he looked me in the eye, extracting his hand from mine to point in my face, "I need you to stay put. Got that?"

Now I pouted. But I nodded.

"Good." He turned away, but I pulled him back to kiss him, soft and deep. When it was over he looked at me long and hard, the lust in his eyes rising steadily.

"Vixen."

I shrugged. "Just givin' you some incentive to come back to me."

"I'll always come back for you, Beth." His eyes turned serious. He was so good, under his gruff exterior. Never would I be able to bring myself to shatter his 'bad-boy' illusions, though. I wondered what I'd done to deserve an honourable man like him.

"Promise?"

He stroked my cheek.

"Cross m'heart." He repeated my vow and raised the bow, then he grinned. "Have a lil' faith."

I watched him slip away, and began to pray for his safe return.

Twenty minutes came and went. While I was waiting I spotted a snake, and as far as I knew we had no set dinner plans, and I was loath to resort to the petrified pepperettes in my jacket pocket, so, I grabbed up a blunt, forked stick and stabbed the thing.

I heard a branch snap somewhere behind me, but there was no sign of Daryl when I spun to look. Keeping stock-still, I listened like he'd taught me. I could hear nothing, not even the chittering of bats. Just the hum of late fall bugs.

Frowning, I decapitated the snake and held it up by it's tail, letting the blood drain. I'd let Daryl skin it. I wasn't strong enough, or "man" enough (hehe), to do that yet. I kept my eyes out for any movement, but saw none. Still, the feeling that something was off, persisted.

"Hey."

"Oh my-Daryl!" I hissed, my heart in my throat. I swatted him hard on the shoulder. "Don't scare me like that!"

He snickered. "Keep your voice down, woman. Are you ready for your 'surprise'?" He used his fingers to make quotation marks.

I nodded. "Sure. Hey, did you see anything, just a few minutes ago? Or hear anything?" I handed him the snake.

He took it, tucked it into a loop, then turned in a circle around us to look.

"... No... Did you?"

"I heard a branch snap. Everything's been silent since."

He frowned. "I'll be back."

"Daryl!"

He looked back. "Yeah, what?"

I bit my lip. "Be careful. I feel weird about this."

He rolled his eyes and continued out of sight.

I just hoped my intuition was wrong. Even a walker would have been welcome, just so I could identify with my eyes what I'd heard out there.

He was back quickly. "Nothin' doin'. Probably just convection currents. Come on."

I looked at his back skeptically. "Convection currents?"

He sighed in an impatient manner. "Yeah. When the air cools down too fast, the trees shrink and snap, sometimes."

Personally, this sounded like pure crap to me. But if he wasn't worried, I'd let it go.

He dragged me around a huge tree before we were right up against a brick wall that was nine feet high. It was almost completely covered in browning leaves and vines.

"Where are we?" I whispered.

"I'll show ya." We crept along the wall until it turned, then continued to follow it to a huge pair of iron gates. They were locked with heavy chain.

"Okay, now I'm intrigued," I admitted. He smiled briefly and pulled open the gates as far as he could, straining his muscles to create a tiny gap.

"Think you can squeeze through there?"

"I'll try." I slid off my pack and lowered my jacket to the ground, then shimmied between the gates, grunting a bit when I had to suck in my gut.

When I was in, I raised a brow. "Now how the heck are you gonna get in?"

He tossed my shit over the gate to me. Then, he pushed the bow onto his back further and pointed up with his chin as he gripped the bars.

"Straight up'n over, sweetcheeks."

I sneered playfully, "Be careful, cupcake."

He made it over with no trouble, and the self-satisfied expression he shot at me was oozing with pride. I shook my head but just smiled.

We followed a driveway through what felt like a tunnel of dense trees for a few minutes. Nature had begun to reclaim what was once hers, dying, brownish-green vegetation creeping up over everything, almost covering the gravel under our feet. Crunching.

I couldn't imagine what this place might turn out to be, unless it was a private estate. I thought hard. Were we even still in Georgia?

We rounded a bend and my jaw dropped.

A house stood before us, intact. Not even a house - a chalet, morelike. It was beautiful. It was huge. It was silent as death.

"How did you know about this place?" I whispered, awed.

"Saw a reflection from this way awhile back, and borrowed Tony's sight when he weren't lookin'. Thought it might make a good hideout, if'n it weren't already taken."

I whistled low. "I'm impressed. It's not everyday I get to go to sleep with a roof over my head!"

He smiled at my excitement. "Let's just hope there's no surprises in there."

We approached the front doors, made from big panels of glass and wood. Daryl looked in, but we couldn't see much in the growing darkness. So he banged on it three times.

For five minutes we waited, then he banged again, and again we waited some more. I figured he was taking the size of the house into account and giving any dead inside plenty of time to be attracted by the noise.

"Seems deserted," I murmured, "Like no one was even here when the world went to hell."

He shrugged. "Don't count your chickens just yet."

I looked at him. "Did you clear the grounds? Is that what took you so long?"

He nodded, his eyes never leaving the glass.

"How big is it?"

He frowned. "Not a whole hell of a lotta property inside the wall. Few acres, maybe. I nailed just one in here." He glanced at me. "Kid."

I looked at my feet. Only Rick had ever seen a child walker before the day they found Sophia in our barn. It still wasn't something any of us were used to seeing.

"Think he was from here?"

He shook his head. "Was small enough to have squeezed through the gate. She was chewin' on a rat."

I shut up. This old wound should be left alone.

"Think it's safe?"

He nodded. He reached out and tried the knob. I thought there'd be no way in hell it wasn't locked, but it popped open with only the slightest creak, the heavy door swinging easily.

We exchanged a look.

My funny feeling came back.

He looked me in the eye and held his finger to his lips; silence from now on. I nodded, and got behind him to watch our backs and he brought up the crossbow to take point.

It was neat but dusty inside; that made me feel a little better. The last "safe" house we'd been in had been spotless, and what a mistake ignoring that had been.

There were sheets draped over all the furniture, and as we swept each floor we noted all the windows were still intact and there was little to no signs of growth or mold, not even condensation in the double-paned windows.

We looked at each other and I mouthed, "Big money."

Finally, after clearing the upper floors, we made our way to the basement. I noted a funny smell when we entered the last room down there, what I thought was a cellar.

Little pinpricks of red light could be seen in the dark, and I raised my brows. Was there power here?

Pulling out the matchbook, I lit one and held it high. That's when I saw the yellow-crusted turbine spinning under a plastic cover and a power console.

Reaching out, I pushed a dark, green button that was marked "On."

I felt Daryl's back push up against mine and his breath stop as the lights came on all around us.

"I'll be gaw-damned," He muttered, inspecting the console.

I dropped the match and said, "What? What is it? Is it a genny?"

The smile he turned on me was the brightest I'd ever seen on his serious face.

"This place is geo-thermal." He pointed at the turbine. "It's got it's own inexhaustable source of power."

Well, that explained the funny smell. It was from the volcanic sulphur vent tapped deep underground. We stared at each other in shock.

"Does that mean..."

He nodded. "Hot water."

"Electricity!"

We both laughed and yelled, "Food!" And hugged each other, Daryl spinning me around the room. I'd never seen him so excited, it was weird!

"Oh my God," I breathed when he put me down, "We can do our laundry." My eyes got as round as saucers as I spotted a water heater. The pilot was still burning.

"Cook with gas," he said, pointing at the grey gas line.

"Use a real toilet!" We both laughed at that.

He took my hand. "C'mon. Let's set up the alarm and then check this joint out som'more."

An hour later, after Daryl and I had strung a bunch of debris that would make lots of noise across the front door, and sealed it and all the other doors and windows with nails (we'd tried setting the electronic alarm, but it was just too complicated; Daryl's very vocal frustration over that one still had me sore from laughing at him), we poked around in the kitchen and found lots of expired dry foods, and even some stuff in the fridge, but everything was rotten inside it. Even so, it was a veritable feast as far as we were concerned. We even cooked the snake on the range. With crackers, it wasn't half bad.

When I was full, I told Daryl I was going to check out the master bathroom, and he said he'd be up after he swept the house one more time. His eyes had been heavy as he'd said it; tonight was going to be a good night, in more ways than one, it would seem. I'd smiled at him nervously.

I smiled again as I turned on the light switch and, I have to admit, I was still surprised that they actually worked. This place was so awesome. I never wanted to leave.

Using the dimmer, so as not to attract unwanted attention from anyone who might see lights in the dark wilderness around us, and lowering the shades, I walked into the shower and smiled in pure pleasure as the water came on, sputtered a few times, then flowed smooth and hot.

I sighed. It had been so long since I'd bathed, let alone with hot water. I stripped my clothes off and stepped inside the glass stall, the sides steamy. There was an intricate pattern etched in the frosted panes but I was too deep in bliss to admire it.

I used the shampoo I found and revelled in the clean smell as I scrubbed my disgusting hair and skin. The water turned black and stayed that way for a while, but eventually it started to run clear.

When the door opened and Daryl stepped in, I was so mellow and limber from the hot water I melted against him, kissing him deeply then leaning my head back as he stroked my clean body. Pulling away, I got down to business before the hot water ran out and scrubbed him down. All over.

Now he was dirty! I even cleaned under his fingernails. He laughed and told me he felt like a big pussy baby, getting pampered like a girl. I laughed and told him to lap it up while he could.

We dried ourselves off with some towels from a nearby cabinet and even though they smelled musty, they felt like heaven. As Daryl tied his around his waist, I dug around in the vanity drawers and came up with a pair of scissors.

"What you gonna do with those?" He eyed me warily.

I smiled innocently. "You are gettin' a haircut, mister."

He swallowed. I laughed. "Come 'ere."

Sitting him down on the side of the jacuzzi I was definately planning to try out later, I draped another towel over his shoulders and combed his damp hair through my fingers. Tonight was special; I wanted to relax him some more before we got down to 'doin' the dirty', or so they used to say. When there was a 'they'.

"You done this 'fore?" He asked me, a note of doubt in his tone.

"Yes. Now hold still." I leaned against him as I made my first cut.

Since I had not bothered to keep a towel on, I pressed my bare skin against him as often as I could; I watched his eyes covertly following my breasts as they passed back and forth in front of his face, brushing him here and there, the chunks of hair I snipped away going practically unnoticed all around him. I even trimmed his beard, but not too closely because I liked it on him.

When I ran my fingers through his hair one last time and sighed, "Done," he jumped a little like he'd been shocked. Then he stood and strode to the mirror to check my work.

I leaned back and crossed my arms against the shower door, watching him. He ran his own fingers through it, flicking hair this way and that, rubbed his face, and then he smirked at himself.

I was beginning to wish he'd smirk at me like that all the time.

He turned to me, his eyes narrow and playful, and slowly he began to stalk me like a big cat. I began to slowly inch my way toward the bedroom doorway.

"I'm going to assume you like my work?"

He "Mmhmm'd" and started to undo his towel, proving to me that he hadn't been immune at all to my small touches.

I giggled as I dashed for the bed, but he pounced on me when I got there and sat lightly on me, kissing me in a fervor. I began to stroke his clean skin, up his arms to his shoulders and chest, and he leaned to the side a moment before resting his weight between my thighs and whispering, "You ready?" Breathlessly in my ear.

I nodded, my eyes closing as he weaved a sheet around us. His warm skin glided over mine. I sucked in a deep breath as he entered me slowly, sucking my lips and tongue gently, his hands all over me. I'd not felt the pain of my breaching this morning, the shock of the danger we'd been in blotting it out of my mind, but as he forced his way deeper the soreness returned, but it was bearable, even a bit nice, in a primal, deeply sexual sense. The further he plumbed me the more it hurt, but strangely, I liked it. A lot.

When he could go no further, he wrapped my legs around his waist, then brought his hands to my face to bracket my jaws, his newly-trimmed chin rubbing my skin raw. When he tried to lean away I followed; I wanted the pain. I wanted to feel every part of him against me. Inside me.

Eventually he started to move, slowly at first, then he picked up the pace until our skin was slick and we were both gasping for air. Vaguely I worried about protection but the thought melted away when he reached between us and rubbed his thumb on my sweet spot, and Holy God, I came like an avalanche and cried out my release. He kept going while I was coming down and when he came he yelled so loud I had to laugh, and he did, too.

Still breathing hard, he looked in my eyes. "Did I hurt ya?"

I shook my head. "No, you didn't hurt me. In fact," I trailed a finger down his bicep, "If you wanna go again..." I let the suggestion hang.

He grinned. "Yes ma'am."

It was late when we finally decided to get some sleep. Daryl rolled onto his side of the bed, arm over his eyes, skin slick, breaths even, as I slunk back to the bathroom to use the real toilet! I skipped a little.

The euphoria of sex with Daryl was what I imagined a heroin high must feel like; totally and mind-blowingly awesome. I smiled as I flushed and picked up our clothes off the floor, wishing they weren't one of only two changes we had, because they were so nasty I just wanted to burn them. Of course, maybe there were some clothes in the bedroom that would fit? I made a mental note to check in the morning.

I brought them and our boots into the bedroom, leaving Daryl's on his side of the bed and dropping mine on my side. I slipped between the sheets again and he rolled over, burrowing his face into my neck and rolling me onto my stomach, massaging lazy circles into my back with his calloused palms. I sighed happily and let him work out my knots as I fell asleep.

When I awoke again it was from fear. Something had made a noise downstairs.

Immediately I reached for Daryl. His soft snoring had stopped, too, when he heard the noise.

"Daryl?" The fear in my voice was thick.

"Shh, stay here," he whispered, touching my back before he slipped silently out of bed and pulled on his pants. Then, picking up the crossbow from the floor, he crept to the doorframe to look down the hall. When he got there, he looked back at me once, and then he slipped around the corner out of my sight.

The strange feelings I'd had earlier came crashing down on me, and I rolled over away from the door, momentarily letting the panic in my chest have me. The sheet was halfway down my back still, but I wasn't cold. I felt the warm draft from the heat vent over the doorway that had no actual door in it and I cursed this otherwise perfect house. Privacy! What's that?! Who the hell didn't put doors in the doorframes?!

People who like Open Concept, stupid, I told myself. People who didn't have anything else to blow all their money on 'cause they didn't know the damn apocalypse was coming.

Still. You'd think people with that much money could afford doors.

Distantly I heard thunder rumble. Great. A thunderstorm. What a wonderful omen!

I sighed and tried to mentally calm my racing heart. Daryl would find the source of the noise and either fix it or kill it, and come back to bed. Everything would be just fine. We would be just fine.

After a moment the rain began to hit the windows, the sound lulling and soothing. I found I couldn't keep my eyes from sliding shut.

Daryl's warm hands on my shoulder blades brought me back, and I smiled. He had his knees on either side of my thighs, slowly running his palms up my back and down over my ass, and back again. I sighed in contentment.

"You find it?"

He didn't answer immediately. I felt him lean forward toward my ear and breath in the shell, gently, before his hands stopped rubbing me lazily and suddenly pressed me down, hard.

I was wide awake in an instant, and with my sudden conciousness came the irrefutable knowledge that this was not Daryl in our bed. Not his hands on my body. Not his weight bearing me down.

I struggled to breath. Where was Daryl?!

"You're a sweet lil' piece, ain't ya?" Len's voice made my skin crawl. He reached beneath me with one hand to palm my breast, squeezing it so hard a tear eeked down my cheek as I struggled to buck him off of me.

He started to laugh as he held me down, his hand seeking down deeper beneath my body, and I became desperate, flailing my arms and trying to reach anything I could use to get him off. I couldn't breathe!

Even out of air I yelled into the mattress, "Where's Daryl?!"

Len held still a moment and licked my pulse. "Oh darlin', he's dead. Your precious Daryl's gone. I nailed him in the head, honey, it was quick." He grunted, and pulled his hand out from under me to brush back my hair. "Better'n he deserved."

I saw red. No. No! Daryl could NOT die on me!

My hand brushed my boot as I flung out for something, anything, to defend myself with.

"Yeah... Now it's Len's turn to get hisself some tail. And what a sweet tail it is," he murmured, using his other hand now to hold me down as his right hand found my asscheek and slapped it, hard. "I could barely hold m'wad when I heard ya comin', over and over. Think you'll come for me, Bethy? We're gon' find out."

He was going to rape me. I knew it like I knew my name was Beth Ann Greene. I knew it like I knew the sun would rise soon. I also knew I had to prevent it from happening. I had not fought this long and this hard, only to lose Daryl again to some raping, back-stabbing fuckface!

Turning my head with great effort, I sucked in a much needed breath, and, easing my struggle, waited for the right moment.

I heard the clink of a belt buckle, and felt the asshole sitting on my legs lift himself long enough to pull his cock out, even felt it touch me. Only one hand in the middle of my back held me down less heavily now, and that was all I needed.

Taking a deep, sudden breath, I gathered all my upper body strength and lifted my torso, lashing out behind me with my right arm, knocking his arm off my back and throwing him off balance. I felt hot blood spray my back as the stilletto in my fist connected with something soft, the blade sliding through it without a hiccup.

I heard Len gasp a wet breath before he rolled off me and hit the floor. I was on him in a second, rolling him over and holding my stilletto high over my head, ready to bring it down into his eye for the killing blow. But when I saw the red gaping wound in his throat, I paused.

And I let the bastard turn.

I lowered my knife slowly as we watched each other, he struggling to breath, me struggling to keep myself from adding to the carnage I'd already wrought. This fucker deserved to have his own dick rammed down his throat, but I had a better revenge. I smiled at him as he stared up at me and I knew that he knew I was not going to end his suffering. I was going to wait til he was one of them, first.

I watched him die, by degrees. Until there was no more struggle. Until his eyes glazed, his pulse was still, and his wound throbbed blood no more.

Then, because I could not afford to wait any longer, I cut my revenge short and stabbed his eye. I had to find my Daryl. Now.

Lightening flashed as I quietly ran down the stairs, keeping an eye out for danger in case that asshole up there had left a way in and walkers had followed. I felt reasonably sure there wouldn't be any, but one could never be too careful. It occurred to me that there may only be one, but I stopped that train of thought in its' tracks. It didn't even bear scrutiny. My Daryl would not die this way. Not like this.

Clutching my bloody stilletto, I moved silently through the house, searching for what I hoped to God wasn't a body by this point. I risked turning on a few lights as I went, hoping nothing else was going to jump out at me as I frantically tore through the rooms, methodically searching for my man.

I wondered crazily how Len had managed to get in, but I suspected it had been through one of the basement dormers, the only windows we'd not nailed shut because they didn't actually open, and because we'd run out of nails. Then that got me to wondering if that was why I had felt so uneasy today, because I sensed we were being followed? Then why hadn't Daryl found any signs? Or had he, and just not told me?

I was working myself into a panic now, worried that I might no longer be able to trust the man who'd just made love to me all night.

And it hurt. I found it nearly crippling to think that the one man who had risked so much to take care of me would turn on me so easily. He wouldn't. He couldn't.

Could he?

I had to believe he would not. I loved Daryl. And even though he still hadn't said the words, I knew by his actions that he loved me, too. He just had to work up the nerve to admit to himself that he deserved it.

As I neared the kitchen at the other end of the house, where the doorway leading to the basement was located, I heard the sound of what I thought was machinery.

What the hell?!

As I streaked through the dark kitchen, a thought hit me. What if Len hadn't been alone tonite? Was that why I couldn't find Daryl? I highly doubted Len himself would ever get the drop on my Daryl. He was a hunter, born and bred. He was too aware to be ambushed by just one man, and in a house, no less. Dark or not, he would not have been over-powered that way. Daryl just had too much advantage over Len, man-to-man. Not to mention a good thirty pounds of pure muscle.

Thunder crashed overhead, extremely loud, and all the wall-high windows shook. Lightening flashed almost nonstop. The storm was right on top of us.

I noticed an empty spot near the bar. The chair Daryl had occupied while I fried the snake for supper was missing. Frowning hard, I knew something fishy was afoot.

Slowing, I crept to the top of the stairs. They turned before opening out on the lower level, so I peeked around the corner again as I descended. Under the one light at the bottom of the steps, the missing chair sat, empty. The loose, bloody ropes tied to the arms, though, and the noises coming from somewhere in this enormous basement, told me everything I needed to know.

Someone else was down here, and he was holding my man hostage.

I palmed the stilletto hard, the tacky blood on it making my skin itchy. I didn't know which buddy Len had convinced to come along on this fool's errand, but I'd bet he'd promised to share me as compensation for the trouble. I curled my lip in disgust. Humanity was quickly becoming something of a dying art, it would seem. Survival of the fittest, as it were. How fair was that, when you were tied to a fucking chair? Or held down while someone tried to violate you? I wondered just how many more times Daryl and I were going to suffer before we could finally be together. Just us, no one else butting in. Probably never.

This world we lived in now was so grim. No one's prospects for happiness were like they used to be. Of course, that wouldn't stop me from trying to find mine with Daryl.

Mutely I heard Daryl scream and someone laugh.

I was willing to kill for my happiness. That was the change this new world had wrought in me. A selfishness I had never thought to know had grown in my heart. I selfishly loved that man to distraction, and if I had to kill someone to keep him alive, then by God I'd do it, and I wouldn't be sorry aftwerward, either.

No man hurt those I loved and lived to tell the tale.

Shaking my messy hair, I wiped the stilletto and my hands on the carpet and then concealed the weapon within it, using it as a pin to hold the bun. Then, shutting off my emotions, I quickly stalked toward the horrible sounds coming from the bowels of the mansion.

The previous owners must have been retirees, I thought. Only an old man would own a huge mansion in the middle of nowhere just to build Muskoka chairs in his basement. Cut pieces lay strewn all over the storeroom I crept through, and what used to be fresh wood leaning against the walls was bowed with age and cracked, dry as a bone. Several completed chairs sat, like they'd been finished yesterday, simply awaiting a coat of varnish under all the dust.

Old sawdust stuck to my feet as I made my way toward the woodshop. The noise I had heard earlier was a saw, and it was still running. Daryl had stopped screaming though, for the moment. My heart was in my throat as I hoped I wasn't too late.

There was a swing-door on the woodshop entrance (the ONLY door in the whole joint, would wonders never cease?!), and it had a little window. What I saw inside made my gut flip over nauseously.

Daryl lay face-down on the table saw, his face inches from the whirring blade, his hands tied so his arms lay straight out from his body. Only one flourescent light was functioning inside, and the rest of the room was cast into shadow, so it was difficult at first to spot the asshole who was laughing at my poor Daryl's struggles. His wrists were raw and bloody, and his back, from what I could see, laid open raw with welts. I clenched my teeth.

I peeked to the right, and saw Bayonet-Buddy stride around behind Daryl, trailing his hand over the open wounds, his face a mask of pleasure. Then, he slapped the raw welts.

Daryl screamed. My heart turned to stone.

I watched a moment longer, turning over this man's death in my head. I knew what I would do, but first, I needed to be in control of the electricity. Namely, that saw had to die, in case my plan went awry and I lost control of the whole situation. I would take no chances on Daryl's safety.

Looking around the storeroom behind me, I saw a toolbelt hanging near a broken window. Bingo.

Fishing out a pair of rubber-handled metal cutters, I returned to the doorway to the shop. Buddy's back was still facing me; he was gloating or bragging or whatever. It didn't matter.

I pushed open the door, hoping the fuse panel or receptacle box for the machinery was near the door. God was with me; it was just inside, opposite the receptacle on this side, where I'd hoped it would be. Making sure the plug I wanted led to the saw, I crept inside silently, and crouched behind a crate within arm's reach of the plug. Then, I cut it.

The noise abruptly died, the blade spinning to a halt. Buddy, whose name I finally recalled was Ben, dropped his folded belt on a nearby table and muttered, "What the fuck?"

He bent over to examine the power switch on the saw, and that was when I stepped out, though neither man had seen me yet.

Daryl huffed, his cheek pressed to the steel, and taunted, "You dumb fuck. You..." He spit out blood. His face was a mess. "You broke it. Can't even do that right, ya dipshit."

Ben leaned up to glare at him, and said, "Shut the fuck up, Dixon, 'fore I whip your hide to the bone!" He grabbed for the belt but stopped. He'd finally spotted me.

Daryl did too, and the relief in his battered face was pathetic. "Bethy," he gasped, straining, his face reflecting his pain. "You gotta... Run..."

I tamped down my sympathy for the poor man before me; I would spend what time I had left in my life making it up to him, but right now I had to concentrate on eliminating the threat, and unfortunately what I was going to do to accomplish this was going to hurt Daryl just a little bit more.

It couldn't be helped though, the train had already begun to pull out of the station, and I was on it for the ride. Til the bitter end. I just hoped he knew I was doing it for him.

"Hello, Ben."

I watched the older man's eyes take in my naked form, and he clearly liked what he saw. "Well, well. I didn't think Len would leave any sugar for me. He ride you good, honey?" He began to rub his crotch. "Thought sure I'd have to use this fucker here for some real relief, sooner or later. He said he'd share ya, but I'm none too picky. Your boy here woulda served just as well." He stroked Daryl's blood-matted head, and he flinched. His eyes were so angry, yet I could see fear, too - fear for me.

I hated myself for what I did next.

"Len's wore out, Ben." I walked over to him, and trailed my hand up his arm. He looked at me and I wanted to vomit. But I turned my sexiest smile on him.

"That so? You ready for a real man, sweetheart?" He leaned down to nuzzle my neck, sucking it roughly and shoving a coarse hand between my legs, pushing me up against the wall by the door. I smiled. Dumbass didn't even realise I'd cut the cord. Hadn't even checked. He was too busy trying to get his cock out.

I looked at Daryl over his shoulder as he panted against me, and the look on his face broke my heart. He'd ceased his struggling while Ben's back was turned and he lost the light in his eyes that burned for the fight. My darling was giving up.

Not on my watch. It was time to finish this.

I fake-gasped as Ben crudely kissed me, his finger searching painfully for my opening and the other hand squeezing my asscheek so hard I cried out. Bringing my leg up to hug his waist, I lifted my arms behind my head and closed my eyes in what I hoped looked like ecstasy.

When I looked at Daryl again, he was smirking. I smirked back. He'd seen me remove the stilletto from my hair while Ben busily suckled my breast. Our eyes met as I held the blade high, but I had to quickly duck my hand behind my head again because Ben unexpectedly looked up into my face and breathed, "You titties is so sweet, honey, I could suck 'em for days. Mmmhmm. Dixon, you'll like what I'm'a do to 'er next."

"Hmmm," I said huskily, and when his head went down again, I rammed the blade into his neck, to the hilt. The tip popped out the other side.

Ben dropped like a stone, his hot blood smeared over my breasts and stomach. I stepped over him as he flopped like a fish and tried to plug both holes in his neck.

I cut Daryl's bonds as fast as I could and cried, "Oh Daryl, I'm so sorry, I was so scared, how did they get you-"

He cut me off with a kiss, but cried out when I tried to wrap my arms around him. I backed off, but helped him slowly limp away from the table.

His back was in ribbons, and bleeding so bad I wanted to cry for him. He had been enduring this, while all I'd gotten was a few bruises and love bites... I felt sick. It could have been worse for me, but I would have endured it for him. If it meant he would be okay, I would've gritted my way through anything.

As I helped Daryl out of the room, I stopped to lean down and stab Ben in the eye. He saw it coming. I didn't care.

We hobbled upstairs and I got him to a couch, laying him face-down so I could tend to his wounds. Poor baby, he'd be stuck like this for at least a week. If he lived through the infection. I started to get nervous.

"Your back is -"

"Beth." He grabbed my hand before I could run off to look for bandages and antiseptic. I let him pull me down so I was kneeling next to his head.

His hand touched my face, and the dry blood spattered across my chin. He sighed.

"Are you... Did he..."

I shook my head. "I'm afraid I'm becoming rather cold-blooded," I whispered, smiling as I got close and kissed his blackened eyes gently. "I have this bad habit of killing people who try to hurt the man I love."

He chuckled, then cringed. My hands fluttered helplessly, but he sucked in a breath and refused to let me leave, yet.

"Come 'ere." He said.

I got as close to his face as I could, leaning my forehead against his cheek.

"I'm glad... You're okay. Was killin' me... Not bein' able to get to ya." He swallowed. I felt my eyes begin to overflow.

"I'm so sorry I didn't get to you sooner," I sobbed, wanting so badly to hold him to me. I settled for clutching his fist to my heart. He chuckled, but that last movement was enough to send him over his limit.

"Was worth it, for you..." he whispered as he passed out.

I wiped my eyes. There was no better time to clean him up than now, while he wouldn't feel the agony that was coming.

I ran to get what I needed together and finish before he woke up again.

The next few days were the worst of my life. Worse than being kidnapped by a bat-shit crazy preacher right out from under Daryl's nose; worse than the week we were fighting in camp; Hell, that was a picnic. It was even worse than the day we'd gotten drunk and he'd told me I was never going to see Maggie again. He was burning up and there was nothing I could do but pray that his poor body would make it through.

I got to spend a lot of time memorising his handsome face, which slowly began to return to a normal colour. I hoped I'd never live to forget it.

I exercised his muscles, stretching and moving them several times a day. I squeezed a moist washcloth in his mouth, so the water could trickle down his throat. I kept his brow cool when it burned and his skin dry when it was slick. I only left his side to go to the bathroom.

On the fourth night after our ordeal, his breathing became very shallow and I held his hand all night, begging and cajoling him to stay with me. I knew if he died, I would find a way to follow him.

On the fifth morning I awoke to his fingers stroking the hair from my eyes, and I cried I was so happy to see his baby blues again. He laughed, too, and asked for more water. I gladly got it for him.

"How long was I out?" His voice was like sandpaper.

"Four days. I was so scared you wouldn't wake up." I hovered next to him, dying to hold him but biding my time.

"Pffft." He snorted, rolling to test laying on his side. "I'm a tough sum'bitch. Feed me a hammer, I'd shit a pound a' nails."

I burst out laughing. He grinned tiredly. I shook my head, my heart bursting with love for this man. That was my Daryl.

"You are the limit, Daryl Dwayne."

He snickered. "My mama used to think so." He stared at me for a long moment, and I stared back, simply drinking in the sight of his beautiful eyes. I could only imagine what a little hell-raiser he would have been.

"I shoulda covered our trail." He looked at me sadly for a moment. I just shook my head again. Then he put his hand behind my neck and stroked my pulse with his thumb. I smiled.

"I love you, Beth Ann Greene."

I leaned in to kiss his sweet mouth.

"Ditto."

We stayed at the estate, and never went to meet Joe. After what had happened... It wasn't worth the trip.

Daryl's back healed, and we removed the bodies of our former camp-mates and burned them. We repaired the broken window and cleaned up the house. I had absolutely loathed carpet by the time that was done.

Our son was born the following summer, and our daughter the summer after that. As the years passed, walkers became rarer and rarer, til we stopped seeing any altogether. We hoped it meant the world was finally healing itself.

Daryl's back remained tight after his injuries healed, but I endeavoured to cure that with nightly massages which usually turned into sex - when the babies weren't interrupting us - which, I think, was Daryl's plan all along.

We found a few cows on a run and set them up in the garage, and eventually a pig, a horse, and a few chickens rounded out the collection. I'd almost forgotten what fresh eggs and milk tasted like. Daryl still hunted regularly, but the need was not as urgent as it had once been. We didn't have much, but it was enough.

Three years after we found the estate Rick showed up at the gate, with Michonne, Carl, Judith and Maggie. My sister had lost Glenn in Terminus, the place many of us had decided to head for after the prison fell. She was never the same after that.

We managed to live in peace for many years. And they were blissfully happy years. In some small way, I was grateful the apocalypse had happened. I still mourned the loss of my family, blood and otherwise, but if not for this disaster, I would have never met and fallen in love with Daryl, and had our beautiful children. And for that...

It was all worth it.

Please review, I'd love to hear any ideas for future stories :)