A/N Thank you for taking the time to check out my story! I strongly urge you to click on my name and read my other Walking Dead story called "Killer of Enemies" as this is a follow up to that Daryl-centric story and will make significant references to events that happened in it. TWD is not mine, I'm just playing in the sandbox. Thanks so much to PatienceTyme who exhibited vast amounts of both patience and time when it came to helping me with wording, phrasing and general awesome beta-reader ness type stuff.

Beth likes the Manor House a lot more now than she did when they first arrived. The mansion is so well stocked with food, weapons and alcohol that they suspect that it was a base point for a raid group, but at some point, either they turned on each other or another group came through and wiped them out. The strange thing is that the victors did not take any of the supplies with them, just burned the bodies out back and left everything behind. Adding to the mystery is the fact that all the bed mattresses have been burned as well. The mansion has eight bedrooms, and no beds. They think the house has been empty for a month at least, so whoever did it has long since moved on.

Even though it's taken them more than a week to clean the blood and gore off of the walls and floors, the end result has been worth it. It's the most normal dwelling they've stayed in since they left the farm two years ago. The propane tank still has gas in it, so they can use the stove for cooking, though they have to light the burners manually. There's a deep well ground water pump by the carriage house as well, so they have a source of water even though the taps have long since stopped working. A few of the rooms have gas fireplaces, so there's a chance that they'll be warmer this winter than they were at the prison.

As settled in as they are getting, they're also prepared to leave at a moment's notice should the need arise. Rick, Carol, Michonne, Daryl, and Abraham, one of the new members of the group, have already worked out escape routes for people to take if they come under the attack, and they've got a specific meet-up place set as well, just in case they get scattered to the wind the way they did after the prison fell.

As for Beth herself, she's been quietly relegated back to being Judith's primary caretaker. And it's not that she doesn't adore the baby, not at all! It's just, well, she wants to do more to help. She's always repeated her father's phrase, "Everyone's got a job to do." But now, she realizes that it doesn't mean that everyone has to do just the one job, and nothing else. The time she spent Daryl fleeing the prison showed her that all that protective molly-coddling she's taken for granted her whole life is dangerous now, not just for her, but for anyone she's with.

Daryl. She can't think of him without feeling confused, excited, and nervous all at the same time, and she's pretty sure that's about as strange a combination of emotions a body could possibly feel. Beth is hyper aware of him in a way she never was before, and any time they're in the room at the same time, she catches herself watching him. There's been a few times when it seems his gaze is shifting away from her right when she looks at him, but she can't help wondering if that's just wishful thinking on her part.

For about the thousandth time, she thinks back to that moment in the funeral home, where she'd kept pushing him about his change of mind when it came to believing that there were still some good people out there, how he wouldn't give her a straight look or answer and she's on the verge of making him tell her—as if anyone could make Daryl Dixon do anything he didn't want to—when he gives that long steady look and he's not a man who wears his heart on his sleeves but in that very moment, it's in his eyes. For the first time in her life, she's speechless because "Oh..." is the best she can manage. The world didn't shift its axis, but she thinks it definitely wobbled a little.

Weeks have passed since then and she isn't any closer to figuring out what it means in the long term now than she was then, and she knows the only she's going to work her way through it is by talking to Daryl, which is easier said than done. They haven't exchanged more than a couple of words since the fierce hug they shared upon their reunion, but things have been so hectic since their flight from Terminus. In between trying to guard against a retaliatory strike from the cannibalistic group and trying to find a place to hole up to better tend to Maggie's gunshot wound to the arm and Eugene's broken leg, it's not like they've had many opportunities to talk. Finally she just reaches a point where she decides she's going to talk to him as soon as he gets back from hunting that day, even if it means she has to grab him by the arm and drag him off to the side.

Naturally, he doesn't come that day, or the one after that either. She reminds herself that he's been gone on runs and hunting trips that have lasted well over a week when they were at the prison, but ever since Terminus, everyone's been sticking pretty close together, and she can't help worrying because he's so much more to her now than he was then.

Beth is helping Glenn change Maggie's bandage when Rick pops his head in and tells them that Daryl's back. He's been gone three days, but to her relief it sounds like it was by choice, and not because anything bad happened. Michonne passes by when she peeks in his room a little later and tells her, "He's not there, he said something about it being too loud in here, so he's moving to the carriage house. Not sure even his skinny ass will have room to lay down in there, though."

The carriage house is downright modest compared to the extravagance that is the Manor House. It's just a simple brick three-car garage with a one-bedroom apartment built over it. The only reason no one's bothered to move in there until now is that whoever had owned the house before the outbreak converted the small living space into a glorified storage shed. There are boxes of vinyl records, dishes, knick-knacks, clunky scrap metal sculptures, old signs, crates, paperback books, clothes and so much more junk that Rick had all but decreed the building be left alone while they focused on cleaning up the Manor House, since that was going to be the group's living space for the foreseeable future.

The air is thick with musty smell of paper, metal and old clothes. Beth climbs up the stairwell, her boots making solid thunks of sound on the wooden steps. There's a door at the top of the stairs and she raps on it with her knuckles. "Daryl? It's me, Beth. Michonne said you were in here..." There's no answer. "Daryl? Are you in there?" After waiting a moment, she turns the knob and opens the door, peeking in.

The cluttered outbuilding looks pretty much the same as it did the last time she was up here. The door catches on something when she starts to take a step into the room, and she glances down and gives a startled squeak. Daryl's sitting on the floor just to the right of the doorway, with his back propped against the wall, one arm loosely hooked around his raised knee. He's moved just enough boxes out of the way to lay out his sleeping bag on the hardwood floor, and his crossbow and the rest of his gear are within arms reach.

Anything she'd planned on saying goes right out the window, and it takes her a moment to find her voice. "Hey." He doesn't say anything, or even look at her, and it feels weird to be standing over him so she sits down as well, perpendicular to him and resting her back against the open door. "I didn't expect you to be gone for so long. I was starting to get a little worried," she tells him and then nibbles her lower lip. That came out sounding way more awkward and clingy than she had intended.

He shoots her a quick, unreadable glance from behind shaggy bangs and mutters, "Ain't gotta worry 'bout me."

Beth stretches out one of her legs and gives his boot a playful nudge, "I'm just saying when I told you you'd be the last man standing, it didn't mean you get to go out there and try and prove me wrong." She thinks he may have given her another look, but she can't really tell because his head is lowered and his long hair is blocking her view of his face. "Your hair is too long. If it gets any longer, you're going to look like Chewbacca, bowcaster and all."

"First ya worryin' bout me not comin' back from a run, an' now ya sayin' I need a hair cut?" he squints at her.

The two are rather incongruous, but she grins, pointing out, "Well, maybe the reason you don't make it back is that your hair is so long, you don't see the walkers sneaking up on you until it's too late." She's inordinately pleased with herself when he snorts in amusement, and offers, "I could cut it for you, if you like. I cut Glenn and Maggie's hair and it looks all right, doesn't it?"

He shrugs, working his hand and for the first time she notices that he's holding something.

"What's that?"

Daryl hesitates for a fraction of a second before he opens his palm, revealing the blue-green stone there. It's a small chunk of turquoise, polished on one side and rough on the other, like it's been broken off of another piece. For some reason, it makes her think of those heart pendants that are split to form two separate necklaces. Best friends forever. Two souls, one heart. She swallows down the lump that's suddenly stuck in her throat and keeps her tone light and cheerful, "It's beautiful. Did Carol give you that?"

He seems surprised by the question and shakes his head, and she shouldn't be as relieved as she is. She waits for him to elaborate, and when he doesn't say anything more, she nudges him again with her foot. "Well? Where'd you get it then? Found it while out hunting?"

Rolling it between his fingers, he finally says, "Ran into some... good people."

Her eyebrows raise and she can't stop the smile that appears on her face at his careful wording. "Really?"

"Uh-huh. Was just three of 'em, an old man, his grandson was bout Carl's age, and a little girl that twern't but six or so."

"You stayed with them? That's why you stayed out longer than usual?"

He gives a single brief nod, leaning back a little further and resting his head against the wall behind him. "They was Injuns—but... ya know, feathers." He wiggles his fingers. "Not dots. Apaches. Even had a damn teepee, can ya believe that shit?"

Beth stifles a giggle at his description. "It does sound pretty unbelievable. Are you sure you didn't find another moonshine still?" she teases.

Now he's the one to give her foot a shove, and she bursts out laughing. When her giggles subside, Daryl gives her a sidelong glance and then looks down at the rock, tossing it from one hand to the other. "The old one was a Medicine Man, did this whole Injun ceremony. Cured me, so I can't get infected no more."

And he's so serious about it that she has to bite back a smile, schooling her features to mild interest. "Is that right? So you're cured now? Well, lucky you."

"Yep. Lucky damn me."

A brief but comfortable silence ensues, and she gestures at the turquoise stone. "So...? Where'd the stone come from then, was it some sort of souvenir from your 'ceremony'?" She throws in air quotes for emphasis.

"Th' girl gave it ta me. Apache believe that turquoise is good luck cause it gives 'em a protective shield ta help 'em against their enemies." He holds the blue-green stone up between two fingers to inspect one last time and then tosses it at her.

She instinctively catches the rock in her hands, protesting, "I can't take this, she gave it to you, not to me."

"Yeah, well, I don't think she'd mind, she'd probably a' liked ya more than me anyways if she'd met ya. Anyhow, I figure you'll be needin' it more'n me, seein's how I'm cured and all," he says with dry humor.

Beth snorts at his cure comment, but can't help feeling a surge of emotion for this complicated man. Rubbing her thumb over the rough face of the turquoise and thinks Daryl's the same way, he's got this rough, abrasive side of him too. But his other side, well, it's not smooth and polished as the stone by any means, but it doesn't make him any less attractive or appealing. He probably doesn't intend for the gift to mean as much to her as it does, but it's from him and has symbolism attached as well, so when she wraps her hand around it and tells him, "Thank you," her voice is thick with emotion.

He shrugs and won't quite look at her, mumbling, "It's just a rock."

"No, it's not," she shakes her head, a soft smile curving her lips. After examining the small chunk of turquoise again, she thinks out loud, "Maybe I can find a strip of leather or something, and make a necklace out of it? I mean, you know, in order for the turquoise to protect me, I need to keep it close all the time. I don't want to risk it falling out of my pocket or anything like that."

Daryl studies her for a moment, like he's trying to figure out whether or not she's serious, and then reaches for his pack. After rooting around in it for a few minutes, he pulls out a long strip of leather cord, using his knife to cut it to a reasonable length. She gives the stone back to him when he gestures for it and watches him, asking, "So what happened to them, the Indians? Did you ask if they wanted to join us?"

"Naw, they was just passin' through on their way ta New York, said they was gonna see a friend up that aways," he replies, his fingers nimbly wrapping the leather around the turquoise in a crisscross pattern that will keep it secure.

"New York," she repeats, incredulous. "You really think they'll make it that far?"

He tilts his head, considering the question. "Yeah, actually, I think they will. 'Sides, I don't think they'd have joined us, not with us livin' here, anyways. They knew them that lived here before we did, and they were..." he pauses, his jaw tightening, "not good people. Movin' in, even with 'em gone, I think it'da been bad medicine."

Beth nods and from his taut expression, she can tell that whoever lived in the Manor House before they moved in were as bad as the people from Terminus and the Governor, if not worse. She doesn't want to know what worse would be. She looks around the cluttered room and puts two and two together. "Is that why you don't want to stay in the house anymore?"

"Th' blood's gone, but nothin's gonna erase what they done." He shakes his head and gives the newly formed pendant necklace a tug, testing its strength.

Daryl holds it out for her but she can tell that the cord will be too short to fit over her head when tied. She scoots closer and holds up her thick hair up with her hands, turning her back to him. "Can you help me with it? I won't be able to tie it and keep my hair out of the way at the same time."

She waits, and when he hasn't moved after a couple of moments, she glances back over her shoulder at him. He's just looking at her. "Daryl?"

Her voice seems to bring him out of his reverie because he shifts toward her. When he slips the necklace around her, his wrists brush her shoulders and he is being so careful that she can't even hear him breathing, even though his head is right behind her. The tension in the air is unexpected and a bit awkward, so she tries to ease it by saying lightly, "I'm not sure how much of a workout this stone is going to get protection wise. Maggie hardly lets me get ten feet away from her before she starts worrying. Quite a change from before Terminus, when she didn't even seem to care enough about me to put my name on the signs with Glenn's." The lingering bitterness from that still leaves a sour taste in her mouth, and she sighs. "That sounds ungrateful, doesn't it? I'm glad to be here, glad to have a safe haven, for however long it lasts, and I really do hope it lasts a good long while. But at the same time, I don't know...I mean, running for our lives from walkers aside, at least when I was out there with you, I felt like I was doing something useful and important, learning survival skills and the like. Seems like we've all gotten to a point where stuff like that could make a difference, especially if we ever get separated from each other."

He seems to be fumbling a bit with getting the necklace tied, but she doesn't mind. "Takin' care of Lil Asskicker's important, ain't it?" he finally says.

"Of course it is, I love her to pieces!" Beth responds and then grimaces, "I'm just saying, my babysitting skills didn't do anyone a whole lot of good when we were running for our lives. I've tried talking to her about maybe helping out a little more with guard duty or going on runs, but she isn't having any of it."

Daryl tugs at the knot to tighten it. "Aintcha eighteen now? Seems like ya gettin' past the point where ya need ta be askin' permission ta do what ya want."

Sensing he's done, Beth lets her hair down and drops her hands to her knees. "Yeah, well, it doesn't matter how old I am, I'll always be Maggie Greene's baby sister, and in case you haven't noticed, she can be pretty bossy and stubborn." Her blond hair shifts ever so slightly on her neck but she figures it's just gravity settling it into place because Daryl Dixon does not seem like the type of man to run his fingers through someone's hair.

He pulls away from her and his voice is gruff when he tells her, "Reckon I remember ya bein' pretty bossy and stubborn your own self when ya put yer mind to it, or does that only count when ya want some booze?"

Beth blushes, remembering how obnoxiously insistent she'd been about getting a drink, especially when for a while there it'd been pretty touch and go on whether they'd survive at all. "It won't just be Maggie I have to convince though, you know. You think Rick, Glenn and the others are more likely to listen to me saying I want to go out and help with runs, or to Maggie who'll tell them it's too dangerous and unnecessary when there are more experienced people to go, and that I'm better off just staying here where I'm doing some good?" She heaves a sigh and turns toward him, checking to make sure the turquoise pendant is centered around her neck. "Enough on that. How does it look?"

Unsurprisingly, he doesn't say anything, just ducks his head and shrugs.

"Ouch, that bad?" she teases.

Daryl's blue eyes are intent when he shifts his gaze to the necklace and then up to meet hers. "Looks like it was made for ya."

Her cheeks feel like they're on fire but her smile is so big it almost hurts. Beth shifts toward him, getting up on her knees before she kisses him on the cheek and wraps her arms around him in a hug. "Thank you."

He holds perfectly still in her embrace, his muscles bunched and tense, but after a moment, gives her an awkward pat on the shoulder, like he doesn't know what else he's supposed to be doing.

"Beth? Bethy?" Maggie calls.

She gives Daryl a last squeeze before pulling away and making a face, "She's probably about to send out a search party." Beth gets to her feet and hollers back, "I'll be down in a second."

Standing as well, he watches her from behind his hair again as she tucks the turquoise pendant into her sweater and out of sight. The gift is too new and personal for her to want to share with anyone just yet, even her sister. Then she gives Daryl a stern look before telling him, "Don't forget what I said about the haircut. It could save your life," and heads down the stairs.

Maggie's eyebrows are drawn together in a worried frown as she watches her sister descend. "Michonne told me you were out here. What were you doing up there? Judith is pitching a fit, and Carl can't get her calmed down."

Beth resists the urge to roll her eyes, "I was chatting with Daryl."

"Chatting with Daryl?" Maggie echoes, giving her an odd look as they walk out one of the open garage bays and into the courtyard. "What could you two possibly have to chat about?"

Ignoring the question, Beth asks, "So what's up with Judith? Did Carl check her diaper? She's been grumpy recently because she's teething, that's probably why she's crying. Man, what I wouldn't give for some Orajel, that'd probably help a lot."

Maggie glances back over her shoulder toward the carriage house, and she does as well, smiling when she sees Daryl is following them toward the big house at a much slower pace, his crossbow slung over his shoulder. "Beth..."

"Mmhmm?" she responds and it takes a conscious effort to keep her fingers away from the unfamiliar weight of the necklace.

Her sister plucks at her sling-wrapped arm and sighs, "Look, Daryl is a good man. Hell, he's done more for the people in this group than anyone else, up to and including Rick and Glenn. But I can't help noticing how you've been looking at him these past few weeks. I know the pickings are kind of slim when it comes to men around here, so it's hard not to get attached to anyone or turn off your feelings completely, but, come on, don't you think you'd be better off waiting a bit, seeing if someone closer to your age joins the group?"

Beth knows that Maggie is just trying to protect her, but she can't help feeling both hurt and resentful. Crossing her arms over her chest, she takes a page from Daryl Dixon: She says nothing.

"I just don't want to see you get hurt, is all," Maggie quietly tells her.

Stiffening, Beth drops her arms to her arms to the sides and looks at her sister like she's crazy. "You don't want me to get hurt? Maggie, we're in the middle of a zombie apocalypse! Most of the people we've ever known are either dead, or are walkers. Our mother and brother rose from the dead, and were shot to death in front of us. Our father was beheaded by a psychopath, we lost the closest thing to a home we've had in a battle against a freaking tank, and when we all scattered to the wind, you, Maggie, you didn't even care enough about me or believe enough in me to give me or anyone else a token mention in all those signs you posted up and down the railroad tracks because you were too busy searching for Glenn! I was hit by a car and kidnapped, and you almost got eaten by cannibals and shot in the arm!" The longer she talks, the madder she gets, and by the time she's reached the end of her tirade, she's yelling. "And you're worried about me getting hurt by Daryl? Are you kidding me?"

Disgusted, she stalks toward the Manor House and leaves a stunned Maggie behind.