A non-linear sequel to House Call.

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Chapter One.

He didn't say it – never said it – but she knew he thought she was beautiful. There were so many things Daryl Dixon never said but she had learned long ago that with him, she had to look at his actions rather than waiting for words he would never feel comfortable with himself saying to her.

And she learned that she didn't need to hear those words constantly. She didn't need him to be sappy or poetic. That wasn't him and never had been and she had fallen in love with the man he was; not some version of a man she had thought she wanted for herself when she was in high school and watched too many romantic movies.

He told her he loved her just a couple of times in the three years since they had been together and married.

He told her for the first time that night she was ready to walk out and he had told her that they should get married. She had gasped and stared at him. Not because of his mumbled proposal but because he had told her he loved her. In the past year they had been sneaking around together, she had never thought he would ever say those words to him. Hoped but never actually thought he would; not even really allowing herself to think he did.

And when she gave birth to Hunter, he told her again, leaning down and whispering it in her ear – always whispering it as if he didn't want anyone else to possibly overhear his words to her.

But she didn't need him to tell her. She didn't need him to tell her every morning when they woke up and when they left for work and when they went to bed at night. She just needed him to look at her like he always did. Like his world began and ended with her. As long as he always looked at her like that, she knew he loved her.

She had people tell her throughout her life how beautiful they thought she was. Her pale porcelain skin, her hair like wheat, her eyes like the sky. Her sister had always teased her, saying she looked just like a doll.

Daryl had never called her beautiful but again, he didn't have to. She caught him looking at her sometimes that made her feel as if he was trying to see through her; like he wanted to grab her and hold onto her and breathe in her very soul to keep him alive. She had never had anyone look at her like Daryl did and even after hearing it for her entire life, for the first time, she believed she was beautiful.

At least to him.

Some nights, she would be playing the piano and she would feel him watching her. She would play the keys lightly and sing the songs softly and she pretended that she didn't sense his eyes burning holes into her body. She sang and played and it was silly and something she never told him but he had had so many bad things in his life, so much darkness, she wanted to bring something light into his house. Their home.

Some nights, when she was on top, straddling him and slowly rocking her hips against his, she would look down at him and give him a breathless smile and he would be lying there, staring up at her with the most intense look in his eyes. And with those eyes, he was saying so much to her without uttering a single word.

She told him she loved him, murmuring the words in his ear, against his skin, against his lips, whispering it or crying it out or just over toast and coffee in the mornings. No one had ever said those words to Daryl in his life except for Merle in his drunken or high state, telling his little brother that no one would love him except for him. She knew, deep down, she told Daryl so many times as if she could make up for the first thirty-six years of his life and heal all of the scars inside and out.

"I love you," she whispered to him in the morning when they had both woken up to the rising sun filtering through the window blinds and birds chirping outside.

His eyes were still closed but she knew he was awake and she brushed her lips across his cheek, snuggling closer to him. He lifted his arm, sliding it around her lower back, holding her close as if he expected her to slip away completely.

She looked at him, her fingers brushing hair back from his forehead, and she kissed him once more, this time at the corner of his mouth. "I love you," she whispered again, her breath blowing puffs of warm air on his skin.

"You said that already," he grunted, still sounding half asleep, and her lips curved into a smile against his cheek, laughter bubbling in her throat.

"Must be true then," she teased and one corner of his mouth lifted in a sleepy smirk.

His thumb began stroking the base of her spine through the shirt she wore to sleep in. "Ain't got nothin' to do today," he said, his eyes still closed. "We could stay here."

His words made her smile a bit wider. "Daryl Dixon, are you suggesting we be lazy?"

He smirked, his hand slipping up under her shirt, fingers light on her bare back. He finally opened his eyes and he focused them on her. "Just suggestin' we stay in bed. It's cold out and the bed is warm." He looked at her for a moment. "You're warm."

She smiled at that as if it was the greatest compliment she had ever received and she lowered her head, nuzzling her nose to his ear.

"What about the kids?" She asked.

He shrugged. "Your ma's always tryin' to kidnap 'em anyway. We can just leave 'em with your parents for a little while longer."

She laughed softly at that and shifted a bit down so she could rest her head on his chest and slip an arm across his stomach. "I can't remember the last time we were able to just stay in bed."

"You're the one who decided to procreate," he said but she could hear the teasing in his voice and she laughed, pinching him gently on the side.

"I didn't hear you arguing," she turned her head, looking up at him.

He shrugged a shoulder. "Wasn't really lookin' for you to have babies with someone else," he said and he may have been smirking from one corner of his mouth but she looked at him and heard something else past his words.

He stared at her, too, and there was the look. The "I love you" look. The "you're beautiful" look. The "I still have no idea why you ever married me" look. The "I'm still waiting for you to wake up one morning and leave me" look.

That was the one that always broke Beth's heart and frustrated her at the same time because even after all of this time, he still lived, balanced delicately on an edge, loving her but at the same time, being absolutely terrified because she was the one with the power. Everyone thought Daryl Dixon was tough and hard and he was those things and more but inside of their house, Beth was the one in charge. She and Daryl both knew it. If she wanted to set the house on fire tomorrow so they could build a brand new one, he would look at her as if she crazy but flip his lighter open.

And if she wanted to leave him, she knew he wouldn't stop her.

Because even after all of this time, he still told her she was crazy for marrying him.

"My mom's already asking me if we're having another," she said quietly, still watching him.

"If your ma wants to be the one to support a third…" he trailed off and Beth smiled a little, nodding in agreement.

Luke and Hunter were expensive enough and money – what little they had – was stretched to the limit. There was no way they could afford three children.

That night when she had nearly walked out and Daryl mumbled out a statement of love and a marriage proposal, he had warned her that it wasn't going to be easy. He was a poor man and if she married him, she would be poor right alongside him. Beth knew she had had an easy life. She had lived in comfort on the farm, well provided for, her parents able to give her anything she needed.

But losing all of that didn't scare her. It excited her. She would have Daryl; be his wife. Who needed money when she had him? He had smirked a little and told her to just wait. She'd get tired of buying her clothes from thrift stores and eating nothing but generic brands from Aldi or deciding which bills would be paid on time that month and which ones could be afforded to be pushed back until the next paycheck.

She was determined to show him though. She would never complain and she would work just as hard as him. She would be a good wife; a good partner.

When she first started spending time with him, she became worried that she would do something and he would realize she wasn't the girl for him. She began hiding parts of herself from him, always living in fear that something that she had tried so hard to keep locked away would slip through anyway and he would look at her and wonder to himself what the hell he was doing with her. That she liked Disney movies or still had a stuffed teddy bear in her room or made up silly dances to songs on the radio or just liked laying down some days and finding shapes in the clouds. She was younger than him and she tried so hard to show to him that she was old enough, tough enough, cool enough to be the girl a guy like him needed. She wanted to prove to him that she was the best thing to ever happen to him.

After a bit though, it became too exhausting, keeping so much of herself from him and slowly, she began showing more of what she had held so close to her chest before, watching him, waiting to see what he thought about each thing she revealed. But he didn't go anywhere or tell her to. He would just look at her and he always just looked so amused or confused – a look she would later come to understand as his own doubt about being the guy a girl like her needed.

She rested her head back on his chest. "I love you," she whispered for a third time. He didn't say anything but she felt his lips rest against her head.

They laid there, no more words exchanged, as the bedroom grew lighter with the rising sun. There were more birds now, all chirping over one another to have their morning song be hear above all the others. The boys had stayed at the farm the night before and they would have to go and collect them soon but for now, Daryl was right. Their bed was too warm and she felt reluctant to leave.

Daryl's fingers were still light on her back and she tightened her arm around his middle. His touch was barely there, almost ticklish, and she closed her eyes, focusing all of her attention onto the way he could make every nerve in her body shake; just with fingertips on her spine, she felt a light pulse between her thighs.

And as if he knew that, Daryl's fingers slipped a little lower, Beth biting down on her bottom lip in response, her hips pressing forward against his side on their own accord. They both knew what he was doing and with the kids gone for the morning, there was no better time than for him to get her turned on.

Without a word, she rolled from him, laying on her back next to him, tugging her shirt off over her head and tossing it aside. And then he was on top of her, lips meeting hers, his hands seemingly everywhere on her skin now, fingers dipping inside of her underwear, and Beth began singing her own morning song of moans and quiet cries of Daryl's name.

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