Breakaway Ch 17

Jenna Black

Beth waited a day, hoping that Daryl would feel better, at least to the point that they could get out for a little while. And another, thinking surely they had reached the turning point. But when his fever got higher and the water got dangerously lower, she decided that it was time. Enough was enough. As she got herself ready, she kept reminding herself that this was something that could do. The tricks she'd learned over the past few weeks would keep her safe.

Quietly, she walked into Daryl's room, checking on him for the last time before she headed out. His fever was still too high, and he barely moved when she came near. She grabbed a wet washcloth from the bowl next to the bed, and wiped down his face again, before kissing his temple and leaving the towel over his forehead. "Don't you die on me." She whispered to him fiercely, stroking his hair. Just the thought sent her into a mild panic, something his reaction, or lack thereof, did nothing to alleviate.

She moved quickly and careful to block him in safely, in such a way no walker would be able to get through, even if one managed to get that far Making her own way downstairs she fought to keep herself calm. Distracting thoughts of what could happen wouldn't help anyone.

There were no issues getting out of the camp, and a half mile up the road her instincts proved right; a cluster of house off a little cul-de-sac sat, looking abandoned. The first two were burned out shells, but the others had little damage and were far enough back you wouldn't notice them at first glance. After searching the first and coming up empty, the second found pay dirt - medicine for Daryl and a still full water tank in the basement. It had some other surprises too; several walkers she had no issues taking out, and one that got way too close for comfort. "We just won't tell Daryl about the walkers," She mumbled to herself as she got the truck loaded up with what she had found. It was slow going from the bruises she knew would show up in a day's time or so. "Shit" She muttered, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Her lip was split and swollen, and there was only so much she could do with her hair to hide the patch that had been ripped out by the one walkers tight grip.

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When she got back to the hotel room, she almost cried at the sight of Daryl sleeping peacefully. He'd managed some of the water by the bed, and was snoring in a way that let her know he was truly resting. Even if it was fever induced, it was better the mutterings and groaning he usually let out. She added the last of the water from the old stash to his glass, and helped herself to a drink as well. It wasn't cold, but something about that fact that she had done it on her own made it taste very sweet.

Walking back into her side of the suite, she made her way to the bathroom, and carefully undressed. The movement hurt, but there was no way of saving the clothes, the shirt had been ripped in too many places, and the pants were about worn through at the knees. She was just thankful she had a nicer set to change into. The full length mirror made it easy for her to take stock of the damage, though telling the difference between dirt and grime and bruise required a good bit of guesswork. Then again, moving even closer to the mirror, she wondering is she would even recognize herself if pressed in a few years. Critically examining herself for the first time in weeks her fingers traced along the new lines of her body – she was skinnier than ever, with ribs poking out and little to no cleavage to speak of. The softness her body had steadfastly held onto at the prison had been melted away; she could see the lines of muscles in her arms, and down her legs. But it was her face really made her pause. Her eyes were the same, and her coloring; but the person looking back at her looked like a stranger, hair all over the place, dark eyes and bruises all over. She fingered her hair, playing with the bottom of it. It had been like a friend to her over the past few years, giving her something to do and keeping her hands busy during the mind numbingly boring stretches that weren't punctuated by terror.

But it had almost gotten her killed today.

And it wasn't healthy, she realized, remembering the soft stands in her memory, but feeling the roughness scratching her palms. Hiding behind her hair, and using it as a crutch could only work for so long, and it wasn't working anymore. Her knife was still in the pocket of the jeans on the floor; the weight of it a nice counterbalance to the weight of her thoughts. A few moments of indecision, and of gathering her courage, and it was done. Long enough to be tied back, but short enough it couldn't just be grabbed or caught. It took a while for her to get the ends to lay just right, but the more she cut, the happier it made her feel, by the end she was almost giggling. Brushing herself off, and then washing herself down, she smiled at the reflection, liking and feeling like the person she was seeing for the first time in a long time.

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Back in the day, when Daryl woke up with this bad of a headache and this thick a layer of sweat on him, it meant he'd had a hell of a bender with his brother. As it was, he could feel his heart beating in time to the pains shooting through his head. He tried to swallow but his tongue was too fuzzy and dry to cooperate. When was the last time he'd had a glass of water? He thought back, and couldn't remember. He had finished off his bottle by the bed without stopping, and made his way back into the bathroom hoping for more. There were two large water bottles on the edge of the sink, Beth must have replaced them while he was sleeping. He was halfway through the second bottle before he thought to slow down, and make sure this wasn't all the water they had. He moved carefully, muscles protesting after being so still for so long, and grimaced when he looked at himself in the mirror. He was pale and haggard, even more so than usual; the scruff he usually wore was a full on scraggily beard and for all the sleeping he'd done he looked as if he was sporting two black eyes. He grabbed the washcloth and wiped himself up best he could, the tepid gray water helping with the layer of grime all over. And even he could admit that a change of clothes felt wonderful after who knew how long in the old.

Making his way to the door connecting the suites, he opened it; the noise made Beth jump. She was sitting on the bed reading a book by the light steaming in from the window. "Good! " She said happily "Glad to see you're moving." She answered, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear. It was then that the shorter hair registered, followed by the bruises and the new outfit.

"The hell?" Daryl asked her, taking her in a little more clearly now… The short hair wasn't the only change, a couple more bruises on her arms and her upper lip was split, puffed up and raw looking in a way that said it was still fresh. He looked around the room, and saw their bags in the corner, with fresh water bottles and some other food from God knows where. "Damn it Beth I told you to wait." He growled.

"I did." She answered back, still playing with that piece of hair that kept coming forward.

"Yeah, I can tell." He bit out, the pounding in his head was growing as he got more agitated. He closed his eyes, fighting his temper; then shook his head to try and clear some of the cobwebs. The room spun around him and he regretted it immediately. "Damn it Beth!"

"Don't you 'damn it' me, Daryl Dixon!" She bit back, putting down the book and getting up from the bed. "I did wait for you! For a whole extra day I waited, then another! Nearly went mad in my own skin waiting for you. But you were getting worse and worse, and we were almost out before I decided I'd had enough of waiting for ya." She walked over to him, looking him up and down, glad to see the color returning to his face, even if it was from anger; his stance was getting sturdier as time went on too. "So I went out, and I did what needed to be done." She finished nearing a growl herself by the end of it.

"You could'a gotten yourself killed." He answered back, "Damn near did by the looks of ya. This stuff is good but we had enough." He cursed again under his breath, and pounded his fist on the table.

"Daryl, don't ya get it?" She asked, shaking her head, putting the pieces of his anger together. "You've been out for near a week. Only reason your still here is 'cause I went. Just lucky I found what we needed without too much trouble." She'd sat back down on a chair by that point, and would have gotten away with her nonchalant dismissal, if they hadn't spent every moment together for weeks now. No way could she fool him.

He walked over to her then, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up. She meant to yell in protest, but the angle he used irritated her already sore injuries, and it came out a sharp moan.

"This ain't too much trouble?" He asked her, looking over her again now that they were so close. The cut on her chin looked even worse, and up close he could see some bruising on her face the shadows and angles had hidden before. At least one leg was hurt with the way she had walked, and the careful way she moved her arm spoke to something being wrong there too. "What the hell happened?" He asked again, so low he could barely be heard.

She swallowed and looked away from him and towards the window. The light coming in was harsh, with the sun almost set, putting sharp shadows everywhere and lighting up half her face severely. "I scavenged" she said, shrugging her shoulder and wincing at the motion. "We knew the lodge was empty, but I figured there had to be something else around. I locked you up so nothing could get ya, and then took the truck up the road a mile or so, and found a group of houses…. First one was empty and I got some food, but no meds. Second one had meds, but had a few surprises" She chuckled darkly, eyes focused somewhere in her memory.

"How many?" He asked, blood starting to rush again. Without thought, his hand had loosened on her arm, and was now just resting, stroking back and forth with his thumb.

"Five." She answered, he could feel her trembling against his hand, or was it his hand shaking against her? "Not all at once though, and I didn't have much of an issue, one just surprised me is all."

He closed his eyes and fought to control his breathing, reminding himself she was right there, in front of him. His hand was touching her and it was all okay. "And?" He asked her

"And I took care of them." She answered, smiling a little. "The first guy was easy, the second and third were so decayed they could barely move. Made me get a little cocky, and then the last two were fresh, plus I recognized one of them and it threw me for a minute."

"Who?" He asked.

Beth took a breath, and answered the question. "Not anyone we were close with, I can't even remember their names. Just a couple guys that had made their way through the prison at one point and moved on after they didn't fit. I'm okay." She paused for a minute. "I mean, I wasn't at first, and had a good freak-out for a little while. No chances anymore." She shook her head again "Maybe I'm not okay, but I ain't broken either." She answered honestly.

The motion had caused that bit of hair to come loose again, and before he knew what he was doing he'd brought his hand up to it and put it behind her ear. As he did, she rested her head against his hand and sighed, and it took all his willpower to not do anything. That was until a minute passed and he realized he should have done something, as his hand was still gently stroking her cheek, neither willing to break the connection and step away. He looked in her eyes and his breathing hitched, the intensity in her eyes blowing him away. Moving gently, Beth brought her hand up, so that it was entwined with his, before letting them fall and stepping even closer. She was tight against him now; he could feel every breath she took. "Beth." He breathed out, and she tightened her grip on his hand until it was almost painful.

"Shh." She answered, before leaning in and kissing him. The shock that went through his body frightened him, the tightrope they'd been walking for weeks was giving way and oh it felt so good to fall but where would they land. When they were first thrown together he had been disappointed almost, that it had been her of all people for him to be stuck with. But within the first few days that feeling had faded, as the girl he'd known transformed to being a capable partner. Then he was just disappointed in himself, with all the things about her that he should NOT be noticing about her. Like the color of her hair in the sun, and the sound of her voice as she sang under her breath. The fact she had good taste stayed in tune didn't help. Her laughter and her tears and the reaction they caused inside him. At first, he just told himself to get over it; he was too old and she was just nice, not interested in anything like that, least of all with him.

Then the attack, and the promise to himself to not do anything with her, or to do anything that could make her uncomfortable. Ever. That resolve slowly faded to where he told himself he wouldn't do anything first. Now though, with her lips on his, all the thoughts and desires he'd harbored over all that time came forward.

His free arm wrapped around her tight, and the moan she let out let him know he was ok. His hand traced up her body till it cupped the other side of her face, while her hands had worked their way under his vest but above his shirt, winding little circles all the way. Her hair felt smooth against his hand, and shined in the bright sunlight. They were both breathing heavily, and he shifted, trying to get control of himself before things went too far. Even as his brain was fighting to do that, his thumb was gently stroking her cheek again. She moved her head to the side, and caught his thumb between her teeth for a moment, before letting it go; she bit her lip nervously, grimacing when she hit the sore spot. Then his hands were on her back and his mouth was on her neck, taking care to not hit the scratched he could see.

"Ah," She breathed out, when his hand brushed against the worst of the cuts on her back. "Had to climb through a small window to get in the house," She explained, "got cut on a bit of glass."

"Patch up time?" He asked her, turning her around and pulling out the back of her shirt to look at it. It wasn't too deep, but was still nasty looking; thankfully it wasn't showing any signs of infection. He did not care about the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra. Its' why he didn't even notice it.

"Yeah. We have stuff in the bathroom for it" She started walking to the bathroom in her room, still holding his hand. When they got to the bathroom, everything was already on the countertop from when she took care of the rest of herself earlier. Carefully, she started lifting her shirt. "Beth don't" He started to say, but she shook her head.

"Daryl Dixon I need help and you're the one to do it." She stated matter of fact. "I trust you, and not that we would, but there's nothing you can do to me that I don't want you to do anyways" She breathed deeply again, hoping she didn't turn too red, and let out a little huff. "I've had a rough couple days and I am done talking and thinking and worrying and so are you."

"Yes ma'am" He said, chuckling. He stopped when he saw her back though; it was a roadmap of small scratches and discolorations, showing more damage as the shirt was inched higher. The angle from before and the shadows had covered a lot. "Beth…" When her shirt was fully off, he lost all words, just reached out, running his hand lightly over her back. She leaned back into him, before he knew it his arms were around her, just holding her silently.

She relaxed into him for a minute, before stepping forward to lay face down on the bed. He patched her up quickly, rubbing antibiotic on all of them, and bandaging the worst. Then he just sat there, stroking down her back, until she turned herself to look at him.

She brought her hands up slowly, feeling his muscles under her hands, and enjoying the obvious effects she was having on him. Later on he couldn't remember who'd made the first move; all he cared about was how she felt in his arms. When they broke apart minutes later, Daryl chuckled. "Why'd we wait so damn long?" He asked her.

"Cause you're too damn stubborn?" She teased, she swallowed and got serious. "'Cause this is when we were meant to, I think." She tried to brush back her hair with her fingers, before giving up and just leaving it messy. Still holding his hand, seemingly oblivious to the fact she still didn't have a shirt on, she took a step towards the door to her bedroom. He didn't move. "What?" She asked him, tugging again.

"We can't." He told her, inwardly cursing himself for his damn restraint – where the hell had that come from. "Don't think I don't wanna – but this is all or nothing Beth, don't do half assed… and if we start something now, gotta be ready to finish it." She nodded her head in agreement, and let his hand drop. She walked out of the room and Daryl crouched low, head hung down. That was by far, the hardest thing he'd had to do recently; every fiber in his being was telling him to go and grab her and damn any consequences.

The door opening again signaled her return. When she came close to him she knelt down too, reaching into her back pocket. "When I went scouting for water and meds I grabbed some other things too." She whispered, toying with the foil wrapper in her hand. "Like I said before, you can't do anything to me that I don't already want to do."

After that he was done. Done thinking, done worrying. Done with everything but the feel of her in his arms. The Georgia breeze blew through the open window, and the sound of the animals outside let them know that all was well. For now, it was enough.

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A/N: I firmly believe that 'sexy times' are one of the harder things to write well, as everyone has their own imagination of where things should go, which is why the first one is not. I love this story, and I love these characters. And I have a lot more planned for them. But the one thing I don't have in my life right now is time, something that has been brutally evident with my atrocious updating habits ever since last year.

As I have been writing and developing this story, I noticed two distinct arcs to it, the one leading up to now, and a second one, taking place several months in the future- that one takes on a much grander scale and involves many more people and quite a lot more commitment. And that's just something I can't do right now. I made a promise to myself that I would never abandon a story again, and have worked hard (admittedly in stolen moments here and there) to get this story to a point where I can say that it is done. At least this part of it.

Realistically, my life won't slow down for at least another year (at that point I won't be dealing with a baby waking up in the middle of the night anymore, and both of the older ones will be in school), and while I know in the next year I will get opportunities to write again, they will be few and far between, the way it has been lately. So I have come to the decision that I will not be posting anything again, at least not until the entire second half is entirely written, so that when I do post, it will not be the sporadic thing that it has been. Until then, I may or may not post snippets, as I finish them, of things that take place within this universe.

When I do have it completed, I will begin the posting process by going through this, and cleaning up come of the dialogue and deleting the authors notes that no longer apply. I hope to see many of you when I return, but understand if I don't. Mostly, I just want to thank you for joining me on this journey, I have appreciated all of the feedback and advice and encouragement.

I love you all.

`Jenna