Walking Dead 1. Chapter 1

**One**

* * *

Beth was back on the farm, slurping pink lemonade with Jimmy and smiling about something Maggie had just joked about. It was a pretty summer afternoon with cicadas humming in the trees along their property. Beth looked around, finding herself surrounded by her family. Their warm faces smiled gently down at her, framed by sweet sunlight. She was filled with sudden, inexplicable sadness.

Cold hands roused Beth awake. Her eyes opened to a bleak, dark morning that contrasted so sharply against her sweet dreams. Reality came back to Beth piece by piece. Her sister's face was above hers, locks of brown hair tucked behind her ears. Beth noticed that Maggie was missing one of her silver studs. She looked sadly down at Beth.

"Sorry to wake you up, honey, but we gotta go," Maggie whispered.

Beth was unwilling to stand up, trying desperately to catch the sweet wisps of her dream as they floated away from her. Already it was fading away, being quickly replaced by the trees surrounding them. Maggie pulled away from Beth and she heard her rustling around in their bags. Beth sat up, immediately feeling a knot in her back from sleeping on the forest floor. It was very early in the morning before the sun had risen. She ran her fingers through her knotted hair and swept it into a ponytail.

"Did you sleep okay?" Beth asked Maggie.

Maggie nodded, covering up the remains of their fire from last night. "Yeah. You?"

Beth's thoughts lingered on the faces she had seen in her dreams. Hershel had once told her that angels could visit them in their dreams. If that was true, then she prayed that all of the people she had dreamed of had made it safely to heaven. Maybe that dream was there way of telling her that. She held her face in her hands, fighting back tears.

"Yeah," she murmured. She composed herself, going over to help Maggie clean up from last night. They covered their small, cold fire pit with leaves and grass. Beth helped stomp the loose soil down until it looked like no one had set a fire there. She was growing used to being suspicious, since it was her instinct to be trusting, but Maggie was right. Leaving an obvious trail behind them opened up the frightening possibility that they could be followed. Beth didn't want that.

"Where's daddy?" Beth asked as she rolled up her blanket.

"He thinks he saw some herbs yesterday that could help with that cut," Maggie replied, nodding at the bandage on Beth's arm. Beth stiffened, placing a hand on the crinkled bandage. It hurt to touch the cut, but she didn't flinch. She didn't want Maggie to think she was weak.

"It's fine," she said, intending to sound sincere but the words came out snappish. Maggie stared at Beth for a second before turning away and rolling up her and Hershel's blankets. Beth felt bad for speaking to Maggie sharply; they were all struggling together. After all, Maggie was just worried about the wound getting infected. In a world with modern medicine, a simple cut was a no-brainer. But now in the apocalypse an infected cut could lead to losing an arm. Beth shuddered at the thought.

"I dreamed about everyone," Beth sighed. She knew she didn't have to clarify who she meant. Maggie understood at once, looking across the small campsite to meet Beth's gaze. Beth wondered if she should have brought them up at all, since it had backfired last time she'd mentioned them with Maggie. To her relief Maggie kept a smile on her face.

"You're lucky. I haven't seen them in awhile."

Maggie sent Beth a crooked smile, lightening Beth's spirits. They worked in silence until there was no sign that anyone had slept here last night. They decided to wait for Hershel to return instead of heading blindly into the forest after him, so they relaxed on the grass and played hand games. It was straight out of Beth's childhood but she couldn't have been bothered by the fact that they were playing games meant for five year olds. It soothed her.

Hershel appeared just as the first light of day spread across the sky. The sun was a sliver on the distant horizon, just beginning to wake up. Though neither Beth nor Maggie would admit it, they were extremely relieved that Hershel appeared to be unscathed. It was just like their old man to risk his neck just to find some silly herbs. Sure enough, he opened up his fist to reveal a small green plant.

"Eat this, Bethy. It will help," he promised.

Obediently Beth took the herbs into her mouth. They were bitter on her tongue, but she knew better than to spit them out. She did allow herself a grimace as the herbs went down her throat, garnering a chuckle out of Hershel. He shook his head fondly at her.

"Always picky, even when the world has ended," he remarked.

They wasted no time in putting on their bags and leaving. It was dangerous to stay in one place for too long, and every minute they were stagnant was another minute of daylight wasted. Beth spared a final glance back at the tall oak trees that had protected them last night. She thanked the trees for their protection; even if they couldn't hear her, it felt right.

Hershel led them back towards the main road, which they had been following ever since abandoning the farm. He instructed Beth and Maggie to walk close to him in the trees, so that cars passing by wouldn't notice them. Beth had lost count of how many weeks they had been on the road, but each day marked a new change within their father. Hershel was not the same man he had been at the farm. He seemed to be even more wary of the world than he had been before.  
Beth fell back slightly, content to listen to the comforting sound of Hershel's voice as he spoke to Maggie. In the beginning, the plan had been to follow the road into town where they could gather supplies and decide their next step. Their car had chosen to break down on the night before they were going to leave, so they had no choice but to continue on foot. Since leaving that town, their goal was to reach a safe zone in northern Georgia called _The Underground__. _

Maggie had the map unfolded and was pointing to Hershel about a certain location. Beth sat down on a tree stump a ways off, humming to herself. She realized it was a song she used to sing with her mother, and a lump formed itself in her throat. Beth wondered why she was so on edge today, and chalked it up to the fact she'd dreamed about her deceased family members last night. It was bringing back feelings Beth had thought she'd locked away for good.

It was looking like another hot Georgia day. Hershel once wryly commented that the hottest summer on record would, naturally, be the same summer that the dead started roaming the earth. Beth's neck was drenched in sweat, the same as her back. She couldn't remember the last time any of them had taken a shower. At least they had all grown so used to being stinky that it wasn't noticeable anymore. Beth smiled a little at the absurdity of it all.

"Beth?" came Maggie's voice. She had her hand over her eyes to block out the sunlight, squinting at her younger sister. "Come over here."

Beth left her stump, wondering what Maggie wanted. She'd grown comfortable with letting Hershel and Maggie call the shots on what their next plan of action was. She was content to go in any direction, since it was all pretty shitty no matter where they went. "Everything okay?" she asked, trying to keep her voice relaxed.

Maggie pursed her lips. Beth glanced between her and Hershel, understanding that something was wrong. She prepared herself for bad news. "Now, you know we're running low on supplies. We need to start hitting houses soon, and Daddy thinks we should find a house and make it ours." Maggie paused, letting this sink in.

"What about the safe zone?" Beth asked slowly.

Hershel stepped in. "We'll keep heading in that direction, but summer will be coming to an end soon and it's going to get very cold. We can't travel in the snow, honey," he pointed out, speaking in that fatherly voice he often used with Beth when they disagreed on something. Beth knew her father was right, but she sensed that they were lying to her. They had no intention of finding the safe zone.

This frightened Beth. Ever since they had seen a sign for the safe zone back in that town, Beth had been fixated. She liked having an eventual goal waiting at the end of their very long journey. She was well aware that the safe zone could have been overrun or maybe wasn't even real. But real or not, having something to believe in was important to Beth. Without a safe haven to travel towards, Beth felt very vulnerable.

"How long have you felt this way?" she asked curtly.

Hershel and Maggie exchanged a look, which sent a prickle of irritation through Beth. She was fine with not being included on every detail, but she needed to know about important decisions between members of her remaining family. Such as the decision to give up hope on finding the safe zone. It had been the last star shining in the sky for them. Beth felt her expression darken.

"So we're giving up?" Beth asked, slightly incredulous.

Hershel placed a comforting hand on Beth's shoulder. The child inside of Beth wanted to rip out of his touch, but she knew better than to give into these instincts. When Beth had left the farm behind, she had also left behind the girl she used to be. Beth might have been seventeen years old in appearance, but she felt like a much older soul by now.

"No," Hershel said firmly. "We are not giving up on anything, Beth. But we need to accept that getting to a safe zone will take a long time. For now, building up a temporary home is the best decision. Trust me, I've thought long and hard about this."

Beth was upset but she didn't want to show it. She forced a smile on her face, telling Hershel and Maggie that she understood and agreed with them. It was a lie. Beth felt a pang of guilt for lying to them, but she believed that lying for someone else's sake was forgivable. If she told them how angry she was at them for giving up on the safe zone, it would only spread hurt feelings.

When the sun was high in the royal blue sky, Maggie dropped her bag to the ground and ordered Hershel to take a break. Beth worriedly kept an eye on her father while Maggie went and refilled their water bottles from a nearby spring. Hershel was the toughest man that Beth knew, but he was very proud about his health. He stubbornly refused to admit when he was in pain, which was a normal Greene trait. He kept up the appearance of being able to walk long miles like his significantly younger daughters, but Beth knew better. So did Maggie.

"I really am sorry about the safe zone, Bethy," Hershel said, sighing. They were hidden a ways from the road, surrounded by tall trees. This forest seemed to be never ending. They'd been following the road through this forest for three days now. Luckily Beth loved the trees and felt more relaxed under their green canopies than she did out in the open.

"It's okay, Daddy. You're right, we can't go on like this forever." Beth did her best to sound cheerful, but Hershel knew her too well. She could feel him studying her and seeing right past her mask.

"I know you're upset, honey. You don't have to pretend for my sake."

Beth didn't know how much longer she could keep the mask in place. Fortunately Maggie appeared then, granting Beth the chance to escape further questions from her father. While Hershel rested, she and Maggie explored the surrounding land. Beth moved silently beside her sister, stopping when they came upon a clearing. She paused to admire the sweeping landscape, the way the sky was dotted with clouds. Beth certainly had not expected the apocalypse to be so pretty. In the distance she could see the beginnings of a building that looked like a prison.

Her eyes narrowed at the sight of a walker on the opposite side of the clearing. Before leaving the farm, none of them had a name for the undead creatures because they all _knew _the ones they found. Neighbors, classmates, and people from their church eventually stumbled upon Hershel's land and Otis put them in the barn. They had known all of them, which was why Hershel had ordered his family not to lay harm to the undead.

But after their farm had been overrun and they had gone into town, Beth learned what to call the undead creatures. In the pharmacy they'd found in town, a sign had been taped to the shattered window that caught Beth's eye. The sign had warned about walkers possibly lurking in the midst of the store. _Walkers_. Beth had thought it had a ring to it, and since then had quietly referred to them as _walkers_. Even Maggie had caught on, but Hershel still refused to call them that. Though he wouldn't admit it, Beth knew that Hershel thought it was cruel to label the creatures since they were all once people like them.

"You know," Maggie was saying, "it's almost nice to-" But what her sister had been going to say was abruptly cut off by a metallic snarl as the bared fangs of a hidden bear trap closed around Maggie's foot. Maggie cried out in pain, collapsing to the forest floor. Beth flew to her sister's heaving side, running her trembling fingers across the trap. It glittered evilly up at Beth as she desperately peeled its fangs out of Maggie's boot.

"Shit," Maggie swore under her breath, grimacing as Beth sloppily held the injured foot. Scarlet blood appeared through the holes of Maggie's boot where the trap had embedded itself. Beth's heart was beating erratically. She could feel herself flashing back to their last night on the farm, when the walkers had smashed through the doors to her room. Jimmy's screams bled into her ears.

Warm, steady hands closed around Beth's. Hershel gently moved Beth aside, pulling off Maggie's boot and inspecting her foot. Ever the composed one, her father showed no sign of panic as he asked Maggie if she could move her foot. Beth watched in dismay as Maggie attempted to move her foot, only to break off in a gasp of pain.

"It's fine. I'm fine," she said hurriedly, trying in vain to mask her pain. She began struggling to stand up, calling Beth to her side. Beth leaned into her sister's strong body, helping hoist her to her feet. Maggie wobbled dangerously against Beth, but showed no sign of pain. Beth held her admiringly, longing to be as brave as Maggie in the face of danger.

Hershel narrowed his eyes at his daughter. Beth was brought back to the many times he and Maggie had gotten locked in a fight, and she was caught in the crossfire. Maggie scowled as their father said, "You can't walk on that foot, Maggie, you'll make it worse."

"I can walk just fine, now let's _go_." Maggie's voice was forceful. She stared daggers at Hershel, daring him to tell her that she wasn't strong enough. Beth felt herself weakening under her sister's weight, and her cramped leg began to prickle with numbness. She shifted her position, feeling the blood flowing again in her leg.

Hershel's voice was fearsome. "Maggie, you are going to sit down and rest."

"No, there's no time for that! Now let's _go _before walkers find us."

Beth's mind was racing for a solution. Unfortunately Maggie was right, they couldn't stay out in the open, it was too dangerous. But they also couldn't travel far without tending to Maggie's foot. She suddenly had an idea, or maybe her mother was watching and had sent it to her. "There's a prison," Beth realized, the gears turning in her mind. "I saw it before Maggie got hurt. It's not far off. We could rest there, and there might be medical supplies."

She looked desperately from Hershel to Maggie, gauging their reactions. Hershel appeared to be mulling it over. Maggie, of course, struck it down immediately. "It's probably overrun by walkers, or people are already living there. We can't risk it."

Beth held her breath, waiting for Hershel to speak. He had been the quiet patriarch of the Greene family before, and the arrival of the apocalypse didn't change that. Her loyalty towards her father was so profound that Beth would follow his decision without question. Beth was taken aback by the depth of sadness she found in Hershel's eyes when he looked at her. She realized that, for the first time in his life, Hershel was at his wit's end.

"It may be dangerous," Hershel intoned, "but what other choice do we have?"

* * *

A small, motley bug crawled across the prison floor. Daryl watched it lazily through half-closed eyes, wondering what kind of bug it was. A bead of sweat found its way down his face, making Daryl shift uncomfortably in his cot. The merciless afternoon heat was settling in. It occurred to Daryl that he wasn't sure what month it was, or the day for that matter. Clocks did not work anymore, either. It was strange how knowledge that used to control them, like what day of the week it was, were now obsolete.

His eyes flicked towards one of the prison windows. Fine stripes of blazing sunlight bled through the windows and onto the prison floor. It was another killer hot day. Daryl's eyes returned to the bug, which scuttled closer to him. It paused, and Daryl could have sworn it was looking straight at him. He considered smashing the bug because he didn't like the idea of it crawling into his ear while he slept.

_Ah, let it live another day. That's all any of us have, anyways,_ Daryl thought darkly. He had something in common with the insignificant bug, a thought which struck him as sad. His thoughts were interrupted by the sharp, metallic sound of boots running up the stairs to Daryl's roost.

It was Rick. Daryl immediately pulled himself to his feet, not liking the look on Rick's face. Rick looked more unkempt than usual, and his curly dark hair seemed wilder than it was yesterday. Judging from the dark circles under his blue eyes, Rick was running on empty. His brow was creased in worry.

"What's goin' on?" Daryl growled, his voice hoarse from not using it in so long.

Rick hesitated, clearly weighing how much he should tell Daryl. "There's people here," he said softly. Those three words sent a shudder through Daryl's body. He tensed up immediately, feeling his lips curl like back a rabid dog's.

"Dangerous?" he spat out.

Again, Rick seemed indecisive for a reason Daryl couldn't comprehend. The fine trembling that had started in Daryl's shoulders was spreading to the rest of his body, feeling like tongues of fire were licking at his fingers. He itched to grab his crossbow, but awaited Rick's answer.

"It's a family," Rick continued, in that same quiet voice. It was clear to Daryl that Rick was struggling with something. He listened closely. "I was out checking the fences when I found them. One of them is limping from a bear trap. They need a place to stay, and I don't know what to do."

Daryl was startled by the way Rick's voice hitched as he said those little words. Never before had Rick so completely divulged himself to Daryl. Daryl now recognized the look on Rick's face; he was grief-stricken by his inability to lead at that moment. He figured this had something to do with Lori and how Rick's family had been splintered by her death.

Daryl also recognized that Rick was asking him for help. Over the past several months that Daryl had fought tooth and nail alongside Rick, he had never seen the man waver. He was a natural leader, which was part of why Daryl respected him so much. For a man like Rick to so plaintively ask for help meant how deeply he trusted Daryl. It sent a funny jolt through him. He wasn't used to being depended on.

"Are they armed?" Daryl finally asked, collecting his thoughts. A sharp hand of pressure was lifted off of Daryl's chest when Rick shook his head.

"Not that I know of." Rick took a deep breath, closing his eyes and lowering his head for the briefest of seconds. His fingers rested lightly on the gun he kept sheathed on his belt, as if he was unconsciously trying to protect himself. "After what happened with the... the inmates, I- I'm not sure if I can trust these people."

Daryl involuntarily winced at the mention of the inmates. They had made a mistake in letting those men stay alive, because they all turned out to be dirt bags. Daryl could feel his hackles raising at the idea of a new group of strangers living under the same roof as them. He'd never been a trusting man, so shifting to this kind of world had been easier for him than most. But for people like Rick, whose world was built on trust and moral compasses, adjusting to a heartless world had been difficult. It required good people to make painful decisions, such as not trusting a family of strangers.

"Does anyone else know?" Daryl asked in a low voice.

"Only Carol. She was checking the fences with me."

Daryl was thinking quickly. "Okay. Let's go talk to 'em. Ask some questions."

Rick nodded, and swiftly descended the stairs. Daryl grabbed his crossbow and followed suit. The men traveled in silence through the busy walls of the prison. They stepped out into the morning air, which already felt thick against Daryl's skin. There was also wetness to the air that promised rain later. Daryl half hoped that the rain would cool things off, but knew better than to get his hopes up.

Daryl followed Rick through the gates and down the winding dirt path that led to the towering fence. Carol was standing with her back to them, talking through the silver fence to a small group of people on the other side. When Rick had said "a family", Daryl had found himself imagining parents surrounded by four or five noisy brats. Instead, what he found was quite the contrary.

An older-looking man with snowy white hair stood with two kids, propping one of them up. Well, Daryl couldn't really call them kids. One of them was a young woman with brown hair who was probably in her early twenties, while the other kid was a much younger-looking girl. Daryl's gaze lingered on the younger girl, a petite blonde who looked like she was about thirteen.

As if feeling his intense stare, the girl looked up and her blue eyes widened in fear. For some reason he was irritated by her reaction to him, but tried to tell himself that he liked how easily people were intimidated by him. Made it easier to shut people out, especially useless thirteen year olds who threatened his life at the prison.

A twig snapped under Rick's boot, giving their presence away to Carol. She turned around, her eyes meeting with Rick's briefly before turning to Daryl. There was no sign of worry on Carol's face, which Daryl took to be a good sign.

"This is Daryl, another one of us," Rick said in a rough voice, motioning in Daryl's general direction. Daryl gave no sign that he had heard the introduction, nor made any attempt to greet the strangers. In lieu of a greeting, he strode right up to the fence and glared the strangers down.

"Want to tell us a little more about why ya'll are out here alone?" he asked, purposefully standing close to the fence. He was pleased when the younger girl took a step away from him. However, the old man and the brown-haired young woman stayed firmly rooted to the spot.

"My name is Hershel Greene," the old man said in a calm voice, his feathers clearly not ruffled in the least by Daryl's show of intimidation. "These are my daughters, Maggie and Beth. We are the only survivors of our farm being overrun by walkers." Daryl had thought this man could betray no signs of weakness, but right then his firm voice faltered ever so slightly. Daryl allowed himself to wonder just how many family members had been lost.

"We are good people," the old man went on, staring purposefully past Daryl and at Rick. Was it that obvious that Rick was the leader? "We have no weapons, no bites. We are trying to find a place to temporarily stay because Maggie's foot was caught in a bear trap, and I need to see to her wounds before they grow worse." The old man spoke firmly, giving purpose to each word. He was suspiciously strong for being a man whose farm was supposedly just overrun by walkers.

There came not a word from Rick or Carol. Daryl didn't have to turn around to see Rick moving uncomfortably under Hershel's powerful gaze. Hershel was putting a heavy weight on Rick's conscious. Daryl was willing to bet that if Lori were alive, Rick would have let this father and his daughters into the prison without blinking. But something had settled over Rick ever since they'd arrived at the prison. It had made him darker. Daryl had seen it happen to men before; it meant that they were unpredictable. For all he knew, Rick was going to reject these people and not think twice about it.

While Rick was carefully thinking of an answer, Daryl felt a pair of eyes burning into his skull. He risked a glance through the angular metal of the fence, finding himself locking eyes with the younger daughter. What had her name been- Beth? One of those common names. Beth's face flushed red and she dropped her eyes to the ground the moment Daryl caught her staring at him. His lip curled in annoyance.

"It's not that I don't want to help you," Rick finally said, talking slowly as if he was still formulating an answer. "There was a group of strangers that we found when we arrived here. We tried to live peacefully with them but it- it didn't work out." Daryl noticed the way Rick hesitated as he tried to choose the right words to describe what went down between them and the inmates. "I _want _to help you, I do, but the protection of my family comes first. Do you understand?"  
Daryl glanced over at Carol, whose eyebrow quirked a little. They both seemed to mutually understand that Rick wasn't just referring to Judith and Carl; he'd meant that everyone in their group was his family. Sure, Daryl had found himself growing fond of the group, but it wasn't until then that someone had actually given them a name. _Family._

Hearing Rick say that filled Daryl with the fierce desire to protect each and every one of the people back at the prison, and it must have shown on his face because the older daughter was looking at him apprehensively. It was beginning to dawn on them that Rick might not be the good Samaritan they'd been hoping he was.

Daryl fixed his eyes on the little blonde girl again, maliciously hoping that she'd feel him staring. He didn't know why, but he needed her to be intimidated by him again. It scared him to be a part of a family again, and the malevolent darkness inside of him wanted to see _fear_ in someone's eyes as they looked at him. Might as well be the skittish blonde.

But when she looked at Daryl, there was no sign of fear on her face. Her cheeks were still flushed, but now her eyes were sparkling with what might have been tears and her lips were slightly parted. At first he thought she was about to cry, but then he registered her expression: _anger_. She was angry at Rick for not showing compassion. At first this annoyed Daryl but he grudgingly admitted that if he was in their shoes, he'd be pissed if someone was leaving him to die, too.  
"Do we look dangerous to you?" the brown-haired girl suddenly challenged them, the one whose foot had been caught in the trap. "I'm _limping, _for God's sake."

Daryl knew those words were weighing heavily on Rick. Again, Rick wasn't used to being harsh. It went against his nature. Just as Daryl was about to tell the girl to watch her mouth, the old man spoke softly to her. "Being angry will do you no good, Mags." Maggie's vibrant green eyes glistened with mingled pain and fury, but she kept her mouth shut. Hershel turned his attention back to Rick. "I understand your distrust. We'll be off of your land soon enough." His voice was heavy with sadness. There seemed to be a second part to that sentence that wavered uncertainly in the old man's mouth before he changed his mind.

"Where will you go?" Carol asked quietly.

Hershel shook his head. "There is a town not far from here. We'll get supplies from there and then keep moving. I have confidence that this is all in His plan. He's leading us somewhere new, for a reason we don't understand yet." The old man's eyes grew soft as he gazed off into the distance, where the sun was rising in the sky.

Daryl had heard people talk about God that way before, and it pissed him off for some reason. He couldn't believe that this man, who was responsible for two daughters, was leaving their fates up to someone in the clouds. He let out a snort without realizing it.

This drew Hershel's attention. His blue eyes snapped towards Daryl's, and too late, the archer realized he had touched a delicate chord. The old man was betraying his first sign of anger. It was there, like icy blue fire in his eyes. "You're scoffing at me."

"Daryl," Carol said in a low voice, clearly warning him from saying anything rude. Daryl was vaguely reminded of the way Hershel had gently reprimanded his daughter, and it made him even more agitated that Carol was treating him like he was a kid. Fueled by her warning, Daryl opened his mouth with the full intention of getting this old man riled up because he was _far _too calm and forgiving for a man who'd just lost his entire farm. _Nobody _was that good.  
"You listen here, old man. You can't rely on _anyone _but yourself. Not even your damn God."

Out of nowhere, the little blonde shot up between Daryl and her father. She was quivering with fury, her blue eyes blazing. "Don't talk to him that way!" she said fiercely, not quite shouting but sounding like she was on the verge. Despite the fence that separated them, Daryl was so close to the girl that he could see her pulse throbbing in her slender neck.

"Bethy, don't," the old man sighed.

"Daryl, stop being cruel," came Carol's voice.

Both Daryl and Beth ignored them, however, focused only on staring daggers at each-other. Daryl wanted to reach through the fence and throttle the brat for talking back to him. With a snake-like hiss, he said to the girl, "Mind your mouth, girl. The adults are _talkin_'," he said, spitting out each word like there was sand in his mouth. The blonde seemed to realize she was out of place, but she looked offended that Daryl had insinuated that she was just a stupid kid.

"Daryl." It was Rick this time. His voice was quiet but authoritative, ordering Daryl to bring it down a notch. Daryl couldn't even remember why he was so annoyed. He respected Rick far too much to ignore his command, so he gripped his crossbow tightly and stepped away from the fence and that little blonde brat.

While everyone else had been arguing, Rick seemed to have been contemplating. One look at him told Daryl that he'd changed his mind. Daryl's stomach went for a somersault as he realized what was about to happen. Sure enough, after a moment of uneasy silence Rick said, "Hershel, you and your daughters are welcome to stay at the prison as long as you need."

Nobody else seemed to have foreseen what Rick was about to say, because a surprised silence followed his sincere words. A ghost of a smile tugged at Hershel's lips. He had expected this least of all, but perhaps he had hoped. He was probably going to thank God later that night for changing Rick's mind, Daryl sneered to himself. He was suddenly vaguely ashamed for his cruel thoughts and was relieved that no one could read his mind. Just as he was thinking that, he caught the younger daughter looking at him again. She had such a reproachful, knowing look on her face that it made Daryl wonder if she'd been able to read his thoughts after all.

While Carol went to open the gates for the family, Rick turned to Daryl. He sought out Daryl's opinion of his decision to let the family in. Daryl kept his expression carefully guarded, however, not willing to let Rick know just how against this he really was.

"I made the right call," Rick told him, quietly so that the others couldn't hear them.

Daryl just lifted his crossbow across his shoulder, liking the way its weight pressed down painfully into his skin. The weapon reminded him how he'd kept himself alive so long. One look at this family told Daryl that they'd barely used a weapon in their entire lives, and the little blonde probably didn't even know how to shoot a gun properly.

"You're the boss," he grunted, shrugging.

Daryl was avoiding Rick's eye, but Rick didn't look away from him. "If anything bad happens, I will fight beside you. But they aren't dangerous. I can feel it."  
Daryl really wanted to tell Rick that nobody just _felt _something. There was no such thing as knowing what the future held, especially now that none of their futures were guaranteed. He supposed that their futures hadn't exactly been guaranteed even _before _the world went to shit, but now with walkers in the equation it just made things clearer.

But he trusted Rick, so without another word against the family Daryl followed them up the grassy slope and towards the second set of gates. He walked a ways behind the group, fighting to keep his expression neutral. Based on the way Carol kept glancing back at him, though, it was pretty obvious that he wasn't happy with the turn of events. He helped her open the second pair of gates, watching disdainfully as the father and his two daughters just strode into the middle of their prison. He couldn't fight the feeling that they were complete strangers who didn't belong there.

His eyes wandered towards the blonde, who'd detached herself ever so slightly from her group. She was looking around in awe at the enormous prison camp. Daryl bitterly eyed her frilly top and the sparkling jewelry around her slender neck. He was willing to bet that a porcelain doll such as _herself_ had never even seen a real prison before.

A patch of sunlight caught Beth's silhouette, turning her hair golden around the edges and making her skin seem to glow. Daryl didn't look away fast enough and the girl turned her head, catching him looking at her. Her cheeks immediately flushed red and Daryl was mortified to feel his own face heating up. He coughed and ducked his head, making damn sure to look at anything except for that brat. What the hell was wrong with him today? The arrival of the Greene family had really unsettled him.

"I'm going to go inside, and tell my people that you're here. When I feel they're ready, I'll have Carol come out and tell you to come inside. Daryl will stay out here with you." Rick nodded firmly at Daryl, making it clear that there was no room for argument. Logically, Daryl knew that Rick had appointed him as the one to keep an eye on the family because he trusted him. He _knew _that. But it still unnerved him to no end that he was now going to be alone with these strangers and he childishly wondered if Rick had done it on purpose.

* * *

The timeline of this story fits in a few months after Season One ended, where Carl was never shot in the woods by Otis and so Rick's group never went to Hershel's farm. Hopefully this helps with the pain of having no new episodes of _Walking Dead _to watch until the fall.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

* * *

It had been a very long time since any of them had been around other survivors. While on the road, they had only come across one lone survivor. He had been passing through the same town as Hershel and his daughters when they'd come into contact. Beth still remembered the way his haunted green eyes looked out at them as Hershel had offered the stranger some of their food and water, despite being low on supplies.

"Keep it for your daughters," the man had said in a cold, hoarse voice. Beth had shuddered as his eyes passed over Maggie and rested on her. There was a certain darkness to his expression that had nothing to do with the sun being hidden behind the clouds. That night, Hershel spoke in gentle tones to Beth about how the apocalypse changes people. How it hardened their hearts as well as their minds.

After three days at the prison, Beth was finally understanding what Hershel told her. As much as Rick's motley group of survivors pretended to welcome them, it was quite clear that none of them trusted Beth and her family. Beth tried not to take it personally, and the rational part of her mind told her that they were simply being cautious. But it still hurt every time she saw the indifference in their eyes as they passed by Maggie's cell. One or two of them even held blame in their expression, burning like fire towards Beth and her sister as they were brought small amounts of food and water. Beth shrank away from their fiery distrust.

She spent most of her hours in Maggie's cell, sitting on the metallic bucket she'd found and holding her sister's clammy hand. Hidden away from the spiteful eyes of Rick's group, Beth was able to find peace with her sister. Maggie's foot was healing, but parts of it were crooked and bloody. Though Hershel hadn't spoken the condemning words yet, Beth was pretty sure that Maggie's foot would never be the same.

Beth wanted to be angry for her sister, and cry at the cold indifference that the world seemed to be showing her and her family. They had lost so very much, so why had this happened to Maggie? It was unfair beyond the point of reason. On the third day, Beth realized _that _was why the prison group's apathy hurt her so deeply; it reminded her of the irrelevance her family seemed to hold in the eyes of God. He seemed to have forgotten them. Beth always felt guilty at the cruel thoughts, especially since Hershel's faith never wavered despite the darkness of the prison. She longed to be as strong as her father, but fell victim to her anger.

Beth toiled away in the bluish shadows of Maggie's cell, absently braiding strands of snarled hair. Maggie was asleep on the cot which reeked of sweat and blood, none of it belonging to her. Beth's thoughts were with Daryl and the way he treated Beth and her family. She had only caught glimpses of him over the past three days. In the few times she had been in the same room as him, Daryl never seemed to notice her. His lack of interest towards her bothered Beth.  
There came approaching voices outside of Maggie's cell. Rick had taped off an entire cell block for Beth and her family. They pretended not to notice the way someone always came at night and locked them in their cell block. Beth would screw her eyes up in her filthy pillow and feign not being able to hear the clink of the keys.

Beth was able to make out the low rumble of her father's voice, followed by Rick's."I want you to know that you're safe here. If anything happens, we won't abandon you. I know that you are good people." Rick sounded like he was convincing himself as much as he was convincing Hershel, which was almost disconcerting. Beth appreciated his kindness, though. Not a lot of people would have been willing to say something like that to virtual strangers.

"We are all survivors. It's _us_ versus _them_, not us versus other people," Rick went on in a low voice. Beth knew he was referencing the walkers. Beth peered out into the dusty light of the cell block, catching a glimpse of Rick appearing melancholy as he spoke to Hershel. His bright blue eyes stood out like marbles on his dirty face. He took in a ragged breath. "People have forgotten that, but I haven't."

Hershel nodded wisely. "In disaster, people are too quick to become divided. We forget that we should all stand as one." Beth noted a new tone to her father's aged voice, and realized that Hershel was beginning to respect Rick. Hershel took things such as respect and morality very seriously, causing him to be an excellent judge of character. This send a twitch through Beth's muscles, relaxing just a tiny bit more. If her father thought Rick was a good man, then she trusted his opinion wholeheartedly.

Beth began to inch away from Rick and her father as they continued discussing the dynamics of the prison. Maggie was shifting into an upright position, causing Beth to wonder if she had over heard Hershel's conversation as well. The sisters said nothing, but silently were able to communicate their thoughts. Maggie motioned towards Beth, and slowly Beth came to collapse on the bed next to her big sister. She let out a shuddering sigh and leaned her head lightly on Maggie's shoulder.

"How's your pain level?" Beth asked softly.

Maggie tried to smile but it came out looking like a grimace. "Tolerable."

Beth hadn't had the courage to ask her sister about their set up at the prison. Over the past three days she had swallowed her misgivings and focused on staying by Maggie's side day and night, trying to ease her sister's pain. But now that the life was slowly seeping back into Maggie's anguished eyes, Beth was able to approach the delicate topic.

"Do you like this place?" she murmured.

Maggie made a thoughtful sound at the back of her throat. "Well, I didn't exactly envision myself living in a prison," she said, her voice gently humorous, "but it's safe here. And I think those are good people. We're lucky to have found this place."

Beth cracked the smallest of smiles before closing her eyes. The smile was wiped off her face by images of their farm being torn apart by walkers. Her breath hitched in her throat and she was suddenly overwhelmed by everything. Now that they were in a secure place, she was able to really come to terms with her emotions. She was exhausted from their long travel from the farm through the forest, and she was happy to be with Maggie and Hershel, but at the same time she felt the loss of the others like a knife to her heart. Images of Jimmy and Otis played through her mind, making her stomach churn.

Tears trickled down her cheek and dropped onto Maggie's shoulder, sparkling like diamonds in the low light of the cell. The reality of their situation, which Beth had been able to evade for the past few days, was really hitting her. Without the immediate danger of walkers and having to worry about her remaining family, Beth's mind was free to roam.

Maggie realized she was crying and made a soft, maternal sound that made Beth think of her mother. She didn't want to cry and felt like such a child for it, but in that moment all Beth wanted was for her big sister to stroke her hair and tell her that everything was going to be alright. Even if it really wasn't.

* * *

Daryl was frustrated. He had the itch to go kill something in the woods, but he wasn't willing to leave the prison. He knew that Rick was trying to trust the strangers, and seemed to be getting along with the older man, but that didn't meant that Daryl had to be polite as well. He'd seen too many people in his lifetime get hurt because they'd trusted the wrong person, in both this world and the world he used to live in.

So instead of being useful and going out to hunt, Daryl was stuck at the prison. He paced back and forth in front of the cells, glancing out the windows every once in awhile. It was early in the afternoon by now. On a normal day, he'd be out in the woods but for the past few days he had been compelled to stay close to the strangers' cell block. He hadn't slept well since the arrival of the Greene family. He still didn't like the thought of them sleeping under the same roof as him. As little Asskicker.

This thought paralyzed Daryl, and all over again he wondered why he was still even _at _the prison. His brother was still at large somewhere in the Georgia countryside, and a part of Daryl felt that Merle was still alive. He felt guilt over leaving Merle behind with only one hand to protect himself, but he was a tough son of a bitch. Knowing Merle, he'd found a way to use his stub hand to his advantage.

It felt like ages ago that he and Rick had found Merle's bloody hand resting on the top of that burning hot roof. Even the events at the CDC felt like years ago, even though it had only been a few months months. Daryl kept rolling everything over in his mind, thinking about the group he'd become a part of and how Rick had called them a family. Was that really what they were?

A snide voice in his head that sounded eerily like Merle's spoke up. _You're all no more a family than we was, little brother. There's no such thing as family. It's all just selfish bastards who are too cowardly to live on their own._

Daryl shook his head to clear the dark thoughts away. He wanted to believe that they were a family, he really did. He just didn't know where he belonged in this particular family. Sure he hunted and made sure everyone was accounted for, but he didn't know where he stood with a lot of these people. One moment he felt like one of them, and then the next he was the alienated, illiterate redneck. It was frustrating.

And of course, the moment Daryl found a possible family, a group of strangers had to show up and threaten that. He realized that was why he hated the strangers so passionately; they were threatening the balance of his world. He half hoped that when the prison woke up tomorrow morning, Hershel would have disappeared with his girls, having not wanted to burden Rick with their presence any longer.

But he knew how dangerous it was out there, especially to a man Hershel's age with young daughters. The older one seemed capable enough and was healing from the bear trap, but the younger one didn't have a hope in hell of lasting out there.

It had been three days since Hershel and his daughters had arrived at the prison. For the most part they kept to themselves, gobbling up the food and water that Rick offered them despite being aware of the fact that his group could barely feed themselves. It only served to make Daryl angrier and he made a point of flaunting his disapproval, keeping to the shadows and being even more antisocial than usual.

Today was passing by slowly. Daryl eventually headed towards the cell he'd excavated out for himself. It was a ways off from everyone else, and he never slept in it. He didn't like being closed in by the cement walls of the cell, it just brought him back to where he might have been if the dead hadn't started coming back to life. Instead he'd collected things, like books, over the past month or so they'd been at the prison.

He was approaching his cell when he heard a low shuffling. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, listening closely to the sound. Something was in his cell. Wondering if a walker had ambled its way into his cell block, Daryl silently pulled his crossbow out and held the weapon carefully in his hands. With trepidation he rounded the corner of the cell, pointing his arrow in the direction of a small figure inspecting his book collection.

"What the hell ya doin'?" Daryl snarled.

It was Carl. The young boy stumbled back, looking startled at first. He quickly recovered, however, and stared back at Daryl with so much defiance that he almost chuckled. Carl reminded him a lot of Rick, but Carl was very much his own person in many ways. Even though he was a kid, he was more grown up than most of the adults Daryl had ever known. With an uncharacteristic pang in his heart, Daryl wondered how much of Carl's recent maturity had to do with the role he had played in his mother's death.

Daryl lowered his weapon, but kept his voice sharp. "I asked you a question, boy." Was it his imagination, or did his father's voice ring in his ears when he said stuff like that? Daryl made a mental note not to refer to Carl that way again.

Carl readjusted himself so that he was sitting with his legs crossed in front of Daryl's make-shift library. His eyes were reading the broken spines of each of the books. He pulled out a heavy paperback and flipped it over. "I'm looking for something to read. But a lot of these look boring," he said, scrunching his nose up as he read the book's summary.

Daryl's jaw locked. He was slightly annoyed by the relaxed way Carl was around him. Granted, he'd been with this group for several months now, but he wasn't used to people lowering their guard around him. Especially kids, who he had virtually no experience with. He wanted to see the fear in Carl's eyes that he was used to seeing when people looked at him. "'S not polite to go through people's stuff," Daryl growled.

Carl glanced up at him, and sighed. "Sorry," he said without meaning it. "I just want something to do. All everyone's talking about is the new people."  
Daryl's ears perked up. He'd thought that he was the only one whose feathers were ruffled by the sudden appearance of these strangers. Tentatively, and with a controlled expression, Daryl asked, "Are you okay with them bein' here?"

The dark-haired boy shrugged, inspecting another book. "I dunno. Dad seems okay with it, but he's not the best when it comes to judging people." Somehow, Daryl knew that Carl was referencing the inmates they'd briefly tried to live with. It had been a show of bad judgment for all of them, not just for Rick. But naturally, the leader was blamed for anything that went wrong.

"Hey," Daryl said in a rough voice, garnering Carl's attention. "Your pa's doin' a good job. Better than most in his position."

Daryl was pleased to see that Carl seemed subdued by his words, and the young boy nodded. "I know. He's doing his best." He kicked absently at the bookshelf, making the books rattle around like bones. The boy seemed lost in thought as he gazed at the empty cement wall.

"How's lil' Asskicker?" Daryl asked, desperate to change the subject.

At the mention of his younger sister, Carl's expression brightened ever so slightly. This relieved Daryl, like seeing a sliver of the sun through a murky cloud. He didn't like seeing darkness on Carl's face. He was far too young to contain that kind of darkness. It was the kind that Daryl had felt as a kid, and he didn't want Carl to turn out like him.

"She's good. Actually we need to feed her soon. Wanna come help?" Carl offered.

Daryl took a moment to consider the absurdity of the situation. Here he was, having a full-blown conversation with a kid, and he was about to go help feed a baby. If only Merle could see him now. The thing was though, Daryl understood Carl. Even though there was a significant age gap between them, some days Daryl felt just as young and immature as Carl.

Carl led them through the cell-block to where they kept the baby. Asskicker was resting a ways off with Glenn and Andrea. With Carl and Daryl there to keep an eye on her, they were relieved of their babysitting duty. While Carl prepared the bottle of milk, Andrea and Glenn were continuing the conversation they must have been having while watching the baby. They kept their voices low and lingered by Daryl, so he listened.

"He's gone soft. There's no way we need more mouths to feed," Andrea was saying dismissively. Daryl wanted to agree with her, and was inwardly pleased that he wasn't the only one against having the Greene family at the prison. He should have known that Andrea would be on his side, though. She was tough and didn't have a whole lot of sympathy, kind of like him.

"I get that," Glenn replied, his voice sounding harsh. "But we also need more people here to help out. Besides, we can't just toss them to the walkers."  
Andrea had a smirk on her lips. "Oh, yeah. And the older one's pretty hot, too, so that would just be a waste." Her voice was thick with sarcasm. She was clearly referencing something from an earlier conversation at Glenn's expense, because he immediately started glaring at Andrea. Daryl couldn't help but chuckle.

"What about you, Dixon?" Andrea asked conversationally. "You okay with this new living arrangement?"

Daryl hesitated. He wanted to be honest, but the truth was that he couldn't give them a straight answer. He was slowly going stir-crazy from being in the prison all day long, and he needed to stretch out his limbs in the woods to clear his thoughts. If we went hunting later and really thought about it, he'd be able to decide where he stood.

"I'm fine as long as they don't slit out throats while we sleep," he growled.

Asskicker started making fussing sounds right then, drawing their attention. Daryl strode over to Carl, who seemed to be struggling to hold her as she moved around. She was so incredibly small, bundled up in a soft blanket like a gift-wrapped present. Without saying a word, Carl shifted the baby into Daryl's strong arms and handed him the bottle.

"There ya go," he said in what he hoped was a soothing voice, popping the bottle into Asskicker's mouth. "See? You're okay." He felt the corner of his lips curving into a smile as he watched the baby suck on that bottle like her life depended on it. He was willing to admit that he had a soft spot for her. He'd do anything to keep this baby safe.

Andrea and Glenn abruptly fell silent, which was odd because they'd been right in the middle of a somewhat heated conversation about the newcomers. Daryl glanced up to see what was wrong and had to do a double take.

It was the younger daughter, Beth. She'd surfaced out of thin air, and was peeking into the cell block to see what the noise was all about. Daryl wondered how long she'd been hovering out there and how much of their conversation she'd heard. He could see her bright blue eyes all the way across the room. She stopped and stared at Daryl and the baby.

Daryl suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious. He knew that Beth was scared of him and wanted to keep it that way. But the way she was catching a glimpse of his tenderness towards Judith made his ears turn red. He didn't know if it was from anger or embarrassment. He looked away from her quickly, handing the baby back to her brother and striding out of the room.

He could feel Beth jerk away from him, as if making sure that she didn't accidentally brush against him. The delicate action of her flinching away from Daryl filled him with even more confusing feelings. He didn't even know why it mattered to him that she'd flinched away. After all, he didn't want people to get too close to him. He'd wanted that from the beginning.

So he didn't know why he had such a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach as he walked away. He was itching to escape the walls of the prison.

* * *

Beth meandered outside after Maggie fell into a gentle sleep again, twitching every once in awhile from dreams. It had been stuffy inside the prison, but stepping out into the brutal sunlight felt like Beth had been hit by a wall of bricks. A sticky breeze blew past her and danced towards the forest that stretched beyond the horizon. The green tops of the trees waved slowly. Beth studied the distant horizon, her thoughts with the Greene farm that was miles away. Thinking of her ravaged home only served to remind Beth of how alien this prison felt to her. It sure didn't feel like a replacement home; more often than naught, it felt like a grave.

Beth vaguely remembered Rick telling her father in hushed tones that he was going to take a patrol out that afternoon. That explained the overall absence of the prison's members, but it didn't explain the strange prickling of the fine hairs along the nape of Beth's neck. She tried to suppress the fearsome notion than she was being watched. Nothing but the trees gazed balefully back at her.

Beth knew better than to venture out into the woods on her own, but she had a serious case of cabin fever from staying in Maggie's cell over the past few days. Her fingers rested lightly on the knife she kept sheathed on her hip, causing a hand of pressure to release from her chest. Her fingers absently twirled around the hilt of her knife that reminded Beth she was protected. The truth was that Rick's hospitable ways were going to wear thin eventually, and Beth needed to know how to survive on her own just in case anything ever happened to Maggie or Hershel. A lump grew in her throat at the thought of losing her remaining family, but she pushed away the childish fear and stepped towards the gate.

She unlocked the first gate and stepped through, taking care to lock it behind her. She didn't want anything bad to happen to these people's home. She'd never forgive herself if a walker managed to find its way in and hurt people because she'd been too careless to lock the gate.

Her heart started pounding erratically in her chest the moment she locked the second gate behind her, and found herself breathing along the edge of the forest. A tingling sensation of freedom soared through Beth's veins, but her excitement was dampened by the voice that whispered in her ear. _The woods are a dangerous place. _

Beth's fingers wrapped around her knife, reassured by its presence. She hadn't been utterly alone like this in a very long time, probably since before the apocalypse. Ever since the dead had reanimated, someone was always making sure that Beth wasn't in danger. Hershel and Maggie always kept a glass bubble around her, ensuring that Beth wouldn't even get a splinter. Something hitched in Beth's chest as she remembered the way Jimmy had followed her every move on the farm like a shadow, keeping his nervous eyes fixed on her. She could almost feel Jimmy's spirit standing beside her, urging her not to go into the forest.

"I'm sorry, but I have to," Beth whispered to him. She imagined that Jimmy would have shot her a pained expression, but he wouldn't have said no to her. He probably would have insisted on staying by her side even though he was scared shitless. Always a scaredy cat, Beth remembered with an uncharacteristic touch of fondness.

She ventured deeper into the forest, keeping her head cocked for any sign of a walker. Beth hadn't expected the forest to be so pretty. Rays of delicate sunlight dappled the forest floor like a checker board. Birds fluttered through the trees, occasionally letting out little sounds that made Beth want to sing. She hadn't sung in a long time, probably before the farm was overrun. She just didn't have the heart to sing when the world was pressing its hand down on her mouth, smothering her with its depression.

Beth was lost in thought when there came low snarls from the shadows, causing her body to tense up. Just as she had expected, a walker had caught her scent. Its gruesome face appeared first, followed by the rest of its reeking body. It seemed excited by the scent of her flesh, doubling its pace the closer it got.  
The walker was shrunken and hideous, with gnashing teeth and discolored eyes from months of illness. With decrepit fingers the walker groped around wildly as it approached. Beth took a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts. She had taken down walkers before. Before Hershel had ordered them not to harm the walkers, Beth's older brother Shawn had caught one they didn't recognize and secretly taught Beth how to kill it. That had been very early on, though, right before he was bitten. Beth remembered the first thing Shawn had taught her.

"Don't be scared," she said, practically hearing him say the words with her. She imagined Shawn standing beside Beth in the form of an invisible angel, watching over her. She smiled. "This is for you, you jerk," she whispered fondly.

Beth's silver blade caught the sunlight, flashing brightly in her eyes. The walker's snarling intensified as if it was angered by the sight of her weapon. She blocked out the guttural voices of the walker, the noisy orchestra of the cicadas in the summer trees, and her own apprehension.

Beth reached out with a hand that was no longer shaking. She drew closer to the walker, holding out her arm as bait. It was an incredibly dangerous move, but if she moved quickly enough she'd go unscathed. On cue, the walker snaked its face towards her arm. Its teeth were inches away from Beth's arm and, with a rush of adrenaline, the knife swiped through the air. She felt the knife sink through skin and bone, and she was filled with a brief sensation of success.  
However, Beth quickly realized that the walker was still alive. She'd sunk the knife into the rotting skin of its neck, but it was still moving. She let out a small cry of pain as the walker wrenched quickly away from her, dragging her arm and the knife that was still imbedded in its rotting neck. The walker tripped, collapsing to the grass and bringing Beth down with it. She was briefly on top of the walker, scrambling wildly to recover herself.

The walker seemed briefly stunned from the fall and she took the chance to yank out her knife. She was panting and pulling wildly at the knife, but it seemed to be stuck. The walker hissed and started grabbing for Beth, trying to pin her down. For being dead, the walker was very strong and Beth was overpowered. She was starting to realize that she wasn't prepared for this.

She looked around frantically, crying in pain as the walker grabbed her arm. She had no one to rely on except for herself. With a grunt of pain Beth managed to use her free arm and tugged with all of her might on the knife until it slid loose. She stabbed the walker in the face from an awkward angle. It was sloppy but the walker's guttural snarls were silenced at once.

Her heart was racing. She rolled over onto her back next to the dead walker, trying to regain her breath. She let out a small cry of triumph and started laughing. She could still feel the walker's fingers on her arm, prepared to bite a chunk out of her. She was slow and her fighting hadn't been perfect, but she'd actually killed it. She was filled with pride, and only regretted that no one had been around to witness her triumph.

After laying there long enough for her breathing to go back to normal, Beth thought she heard other snarls and knew she couldn't lay in the grass for too long. She felt sticky and her stomach churned to see the amount of blood and walker gunk smeared across her arms and shirt. Goosebumps blossomed along her arm as she tried wiping the dark fluid on the grass, but it stubbornly stuck to her hands. She needed to clean off.

Before departing, Beth carefully sliced off a lock of the walker's hair. It was stringy and dark, but somehow felt like a trophy to Beth. She knotted the hair and stuffed it into the pocket of her jeans. She briefly looked into the face of the walker whose hair she had just sliced off, silently saying a prayer for the poor soul who had once lived in this body. It was a shell now, though, a mere shadow of the human being it once was.

Beth found herself in a strangely good mood. She'd just successfully killed her first walker by herself, and even though in the grand scheme of things killing a single walker wasn't much, Beth still felt like she'd made a difference in the world. One less walker meant one less problem. The sunlight felt warm on her back, and even the dried blood on her body wasn't enough to dampen her high spirits.

She had heard the sounds of water in the distance before the walker attacked, and continued in the direction of the sound. Looking forward to splashing the cold, fresh water over her arms to get rid of the walker blood, Beth picked up her pace. She pushed her way through the underbrush and came out at a gentle slope where the creek was. The sound of rushing water was music to her ears.

Humming to herself, Beth was about to climb down the slope when she realized she was not alone. Her hand flew to her knife as she crouched down in the underbrush, noticing someone swimming in the water. Their hair was plastered to their skull and the creek was deep enough that she couldn't make out any details. Her heart started beating quickly again.

The stranger waded towards the shore and pushed himself out. The stranger was nude and dripping with creek water, and whoever it was clearly had no idea that they were being watched. Beth was close enough to see tattoos along the man's muscled back, along with what looked like scars. She suddenly froze as the stranger turned enough so she could see his face.

It was none other than Daryl Dixon, and he was completely naked.

* * *

**A/N: **Huge thanks to all those who favorited and followed, as well as the lovely reviews from Baby Blew, Guest, Fleur-de-lis1, ChildlikeEmpress, Daylightspeaks, and DestinyRose18. Your thoughts are much appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

Daryl's shirt, pants, and boots were in a somewhat stinky pile by the creek, right where he had left them along with his crossbow right before wading in to the cool depths of the water. He had been very careful to not stray too far from the pile of his belongings in the event of a walker showing up so that he could easily climb out and grab his weapon. The truth was that he knew he reeked, and when it got to the point that Daryl could smell himself he knew something needed to be done. Daryl had _thought _he was prepared for any worse-case scenario when he'd decided to clean himself in the creek, but here he was, being proven wrong. Because the ultimate worse-case scenario was standing a ways off, and it had never even been in the realm of possibility to him before.

Hershel's youngest daughter, the blonde, was falling all over the place in her attempt to get as far away from Daryl as possible. She was a ways off in the thicket, panicking like a wild animal caught in a trap. While she tried to escape, Daryl managed to claw on his pants and yank his shirt over his head. The fabric instantly glued itself to his soaking wet skin, but at least it brought back the barrier between him and Beth. Daryl's mind was still processing the mortification that Beth had seen him shirtless, perhaps even naked. He didn't like the way that made him feel, like an insect under a microscope, and his bewilderment lent strength to his anger. What the hell was Beth doing down here anyways? Had she been following him?

"Hey!" Daryl yelled out, his voice so strangled by anger that it came out choked and thick. "What the hell do ya think you're doin'?" He made it across the rocky creek in two strides, sending dirty creek water splashing up his pant legs. He felt weighed down and heavy, considering the fact that he never even got a chance to properly towel off, but all of those things were swallowed up and forgotten in the face of his anger.

For some reason Beth was still in the midst of the thicket, jerking her limbs wildly and strands of blonde hair stuck to her sweaty face. The closer Daryl got, he realized that Beth hadn't moved an inch because she really was trapped. Large, sharp thorns from the surrounding bushes had dug their way into the fabric of Beth's clothes and skin. Small inkblots of blood were blossoming in Beth's pale shirt where the thorns had snagged her. Her blue eyes had a terrified, nearly crazed look to them as Daryl towered over her.

Daryl didn't care that Beth was essentially trapped and probably in pain from the thorns. He knelt down over the girl, dripping creek water all over her stained clothes, and asked his question one last time. "What the _hell _are ya doin' here, huh? You followin' me?" he snarled.

Somewhere in the back of Daryl's mind, he knew that the mature thing to do was calm down and simply talk to the girl. But his sanity was squashed like a bug by the monstrous outrage growing inside of him, brought out by the fact that Beth had caught him in a vulnerable position. If there was one thing that Daryl hated, it was seeming weak. There was no greater weakness, figurative or literal, than being caught naked. It wasn't the mere fact that Beth had seen him physically naked; she had seen the intertwined scars and tattoos on his back. _No one _had ever seen Daryl's back, not even his own brother. His damaged back kept the ghost of his father alive in Daryl, haunting him night and day. Those scars were very private, and no one had the right to see them. Especially not some stupid girl that Daryl had only known for three days.

"Aye!" Daryl bit out, grabbing Beth's upper arm and shaking her violently. "I asked you a question, girl!"

Beth's mouth was opening and closing, giving her the appearance of a fish gasping for oxygen. She was shaking pretty badly, with no sign of being able to respond to Daryl anytime soon. Beads of sweat rolled down her cheeks, mingling with the salty tears that spilled from her eyes like diamonds. Daryl had absolutely no patience for these little-girl antics. He also couldn't stand it when others displayed innate weakness. This bag-of-bones girl was no braver than the mice that inhabited the walls of the prison.

In disgust, Daryl threw his hand away from her. He knew that in moments like this, he resembled his father. In fact, his father's violent streak was a characteristic he'd kindly passed down to both of his sons. But while Merle could stay angry and shout for _hours,_ Daryl would fly off the handle and then sober up fairly quickly. Daryl could already feel the fire of his wrath reduced to a burning sensation in his stomach. By now the full reality of their situation was being spelled out and Daryl felt himself engulfed by the shocking embarrassment that Beth had seen him _naked_.

Based on the choking embarrassment on Beth's plum-red face, she hadn't been following Daryl. His eyes were traveling her, registering the dried blood on her hands and shirt that had nothing to do with the thorns that were pricking into her skin. Before Daryl could push aside his resentment to ask where the blood had come from, Beth was making scary rasping noises. Daryl's eyes snapped towards hers, his chest tightening in dismay. Something was really wrong with her.

"Aye, Beth. What's wrong?" Daryl heard himself asking. Stupid, really. He knew on some level that Beth couldn't even hear him right now. She was holding her head and breathing rapidly, puddles of sweat reflecting off her scalp. A hand went to her chest as if there was an intense pain that was preventing her from breathing.

"Shit," he swore, quickly bending down to help her. Daryl wasn't entirely sure what was happening, but memories were surfacing from his childhood when one of Merle's friends abruptly fell into a similar shock. What Daryl _did _know was that they were alone in the middle of the forest and the prison was too far off to get Hershel, even though that would have been the preferable plan of action.

Beth gasped, sucking in mouthfuls of air as if she wasn't getting enough oxygen. All of the blood was draining from her face and her eyes were unfocused, as if she was losing control. Her breathing came in high, jagged gasps, causing Daryl to realize that she was hyperventilating. Whatever was wrong with her wasn't going away on its own.

"Beth!" he snapped, slipping an arm around her back and helping her sit up. He didn't know what was wrong with her, but he did know that whatever was happening right now was his fault. Daryl shut down the guilt that was crashing over him and focused only on helping the girl get through this. He needed her to breath.

"Beth, Beth, just look at me. Breath in, come on. Come _on, _Beth, just breath!" Daryl said sharply, gripping her arms tightly. His voice sounded harsh even to his own ears, but he didn't have the capacity of talking gently to the girl right now. When his harsh words had no effect on the girl, Daryl cupped her face in his calloused hands. Her skin was smooth and burning hot to the touch.

Daryl snapped her neck up, forcing her panicked eyes to lock with his. "Just _breath, _damn it!" he shouted.

There was a suffocating silence, as if the entire forest had fallen silent and was holding its breath. From the silence came a sound that was music to Daryl's ears; the soft, gentle sound of Beth breathing. She never looked away from Daryl as she sucked in breath after breath almost greedily, like a starved man who had stumbled upon a banquet.

Unconsciously, Daryl's thumbs moved in soft, circular motions along her cheekbones. He released a ragged breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding in along with her. The sharp pressure in his chest that felt like the heel of someone's hand digging into his lungs was immediately lifted. Beth's dazed eyes were beginning to regain their clarity, and along with it came the burning of her cheeks as she blushed. Daryl felt the change of temperature in her cheeks, briefly wondering what had caused her to blush, and then became aware of their proximity. He jerked his hands away from her face as if he'd been electrocuted.

"What the hell was that?" Daryl bit out, covering up his sheepishness with a rough tone.

Beth didn't answer him immediately. Moving cautiously now, the girl pulled the thorns out of her shirt and eased her way out of the thicket. Her shirt was polka-dotted with blood from where the thorns had dug deeper while she'd thrashed wildly. Daryl noted that even though there were still some thorns embedded in her delicate skin that must have hurt, Beth was showing no signs of pain.

"Panic attack," she answered him, in a voice so soft that Daryl's ears almost didn't catch her words. He could tell she was deeply embarrassed by what Daryl had seen, which seemed foolish after what she had seen of Daryl. Based on the way she had answered him, this wasn't the first time a panic attack had taken control of her. It was possible that only Beth's family knew that she could spiral into a panic like that, which made it a very personal thing to her. He paused to consider that perhaps Beth's panic attacks were as private to her as Daryl's scars were to him. If that was true, then that meant they had both caught a glimpse of something private today. It made them a little more equal.

"I'm sorry," he found Beth saying rapidly, the words spilling out along with her tears. "I didn't mean to follow you, I swear I had no idea you were here. I- I killed a walker and I needed to wash off the blood. I swear." Her voice cracked under the weight of her embarrassment. Daryl's eyes took in the dried blood again, understanding slowly dawning over him.

Daryl knew this was his moment to apologize. He wasn't blind to the fact that this whole situation was his fault. If he had only been able to control his temper, he never would have sent Beth into a panic attack. A sneaking voice at the base of his skull that sounded remarkably like Merle insisted that if Beth hadn't ventured beyond the prison walls, _none _of this would have happened. But Daryl knew it wasn't just her fault.

"'s okay," the archer muttered. He couldn't bring himself to apologize. His mind still seared from the knowledge that Beth had seen his scars, and that was unforgivable. The rational part of his mind was thrown out, leaving only bitterness towards the little blonde. Even then as she looked up at him with her blue eyes, Daryl could see seeds of pity being planted for him. He had to turn away before he got angry again. He couldn't stand other people's pity for him. That was why he never told the others about his father in the first place.

But when Daryl brought himself to look at Beth again, he was taken aback by the shy gentleness in her eyes. Beneath her eyelashes, which were still thick with glassy tears, Beth wasn't looking at Daryl with pity. A tiny bit of understanding glowed there. For a reason beyond him, this made Daryl angry. He sure as shit didn't need some stupid girl thinking they had reached an _understanding _simply after one incident in the woods.

"Stop crying and get the hell out of here," Daryl told her flatly, bringing himself to his full height. The Georgia sun beat harshly down on the back of his neck, which was still wet from the creek. Daryl's wet clothes were now covered in streaks of mud from helping Beth snap out of her panic attack; he was just as filthy as he had been that morning, meaning that he'd cleaned himself for nothing.

Beth stood up as well. She stammered something, as Daryl's words had replaced the compassion in her eyes with uncertainty. It wouldn't be long before she was staring hatefully back at Daryl just like she did the first time he laid eyes on her, when she'd shouted at him through the prison fence. Knowing this satisfied the darkness inside of Daryl. It scared him to see such compassion towards him from a virtual stranger.

"I'm only gonna tell ya one more time. Get the _hell _outta here, and don't breath a word of this to no one," Daryl hissed, causing Beth to flinch as they both knew he was referencing the fact that Beth had seen him naked. His inner asshole was coming back in full stride, bringing comfort to Daryl. There was a certain power to acting this way; it meant he always had the upper hand. Balance was being restored.

"Daryl..." the youngest Greene began to say in a soft voice. He was pretty sure that was the first time she had ever referred to him by his real name. Up until that point, he hadn't even been sure if she knew his name. For all he knew, she referred to him as the stinky redneck.

It was unbelievable to Daryl that Beth was _still _trying to be kind to him. Beth, who couldn't _possibly_ understand what it was like to be abused by your parents. Not _Beth, _with her frilly shirt and her loving family. It was painfully clear that no one had ever laid a finger on Beth before, meaning that _her _back was probably squeaky clean of scars from a belt. He stared spitefully across at her, suddenly happy that her pretty shirt was bloodstained.

"Get out of here," Daryl said bitterly after a long moment of tentative silence. "Go tell daddy how the redneck was mean to you."

Beth's blue eyes snapped open. Daryl didn't know her very well, but in that moment he was pretty sure that he'd said something unforgivable. Good. He _wanted _to hurt her feelings. Beth said absolutely nothing to him, just stood up in silence and stalked away. He couldn't help but admire the fact that she didn't run away from him, like most people would have. She maintained her dignity by walking slowly away from him until she disappeared into the trees.

Daryl swore loudly and then trailed after her, figuring that it wouldn't be wise to leave her with her own devices. Beth made sure to stay several yards ahead of him and, to her credit, she did not glance back at him a single time. Even though Daryl noticed that the entire time, the back of her neck was crimson red. Whether the coloring was from embarrassment, anger, or a combination of both, Daryl didn't dare to ask.

Rick's patrol beat them back to the prison within a window of minutes, because they were trailing up the grassy slope when Daryl and Beth reached the gates. Daryl slid three fingers between his lips and let out a piercing whistle. He felt Beth flinch beside him at the sharp sound he let loose.

Rick turned his head sharply. Daryl could see his bright blue eyes staring right at him despite the distance between them. A few other familiar faces glanced over their shoulders, even though they probably knew who had whistled. Andrea, T-Dog, and Glenn were among them.

It was Carol who reached the gate first, pulling it aside to let them in. The moment Daryl heard the gate rattle shut behind him, he realized that he had no idea what they were going to tell the others. There was no way in hell that they were going to know Beth saw him in the nude, and he was pretty sure she was too sheepish to admit it. Rick and his patrol were looking curiously at him, and Rick's face was drawn in a questioning frown as he looked between Daryl and Beth. Daryl snapped back to reality, hearing Rick asking him a question.

"Hunting?" he guessed.

"If I'd been huntin', you'd see dead squirrels on me," Daryl grunted, reverting back to one of his basic defense mechanisms in order to stall. T-Dog snorted in amusement, but Daryl didn't miss the way Carol's eyes lingered a heartbeat too long on Beth. Daryl didn't risk a glance at the girl but he was sure she was panicking as well.

"Oh, Daryl was just showing me a few moves. I took down a walker." Beth's soft voice rang out clear and true. Out of the corner of his eye, Daryl watched her dig her fingers into the pocket of her worn jeans and fish something out. She revealed a lock of stringy, dark hair that could have only belonged to a walker. Daryl hadn't known she'd kept a lock of hair from her walker, and was inwardly impressed by Beth's quick thinking.

"You _kept _some of its hair?" Glenn asked in surprise. His nose was wrinkled slightly, as if in disgust. Daryl snorted. After all the boy had been through- including, and not limited to, having to smear walker guts over himself and wear human bones in order to disguise his scent- he was still able to be grossed out by a bit of dead hair.

"Yeah. Kind of like a reminder of what I'm capable of." Beth shrugged.

There was disbelief painted on their faces, but Andrea seemed morbidly interested. Daryl didn't miss the slight quirk of approval on her lips as she appraised the little blonde. That made sense to him; of the women at the prison, Andrea was the one most in tune with her warrior side. Seeing the same strength within Beth probably made her like the blonde a tad more.

"See anything on the patrol?" Daryl asked roughly, steering the topic of conversation away from him and Beth.

Rick shook his head. This was one of Rick's good days, Daryl noted. His blue eyes were clear and steady, not jerking around every few minutes to follow something that Daryl couldn't see. It brought goosebumps to his arms to consider how far gone Rick sometimes had been, especially in the days following Lori's death. A part of Daryl knew that Rick would never be the same, which hurt him in a way that Daryl didn't want to admit.

"Not too many walkers today. No holes in the fences. I call that a good day." There was even a hint of a smile on Rick's face, taking Daryl off guard. It planted a seed of hope within him. Maybe this meant that the old Rick, the leader he so deeply respected, would make a full return one day. But as soon as the light in his eyes were there, it was gone, replaced by darkness. The brief flare of hope within Daryl vanished. There was something else that Rick was not willing to say in front of the others. He nodded ever so slightly, to let Rick knew he understood.

They traveled up the grassy slope, with Beth trailing towards the back by herself. Daryl found himself eventually falling into step with her behind the others. They did not exchange a single word, but simply walked together in awkward silence. The moment they were inside the hot prison walls, Beth all but ran away from him. Daryl stared hard at the vacant spot where she had stood, trying to get his thoughts into order.

While the others dispersed, one person lingered behind. Daryl almost expected it to be Rick, but when he lifted his eyes it wasn't his leader. It was Carol. She was looking at Daryl with a strange expression on her tired face. Her blue eyes, which usually sparkled out intelligently at Daryl, were slightly overcast. Daryl wondered what she was thinking about.

"You okay?" he reluctantly asked. He was never one to pry into people's thoughts. Or make conversation. But it was fairly obvious that Carol wanted to say something to Daryl and was simply building up the courage to say it.

Her mouth parted, then closed again as if words had failed her. Daryl was about to prompt her again when she said softly, "You should be more careful."

"Careful about what?" he asked warily.

Carol swallowed hard, fighting hard to summon the right words. Whatever she was trying to choke out to Daryl, it was certainly using all of her strength. Her voice lowered until Daryl could barely make out her words. "You should be careful with Beth," she clarified gently.

Daryl felt as if the heat around him had been transformed into ice, and a very cold feeling inhabited him. Bugs crawled across his skin. The gears were turning in his mind and Daryl was pretty sure he understood what Carol was delicately trying to tell him. He raggedly stepped away from her, feeling anger bleeding into his mind.

"After everything I did for Sophia, you really think I'm some kinda pervert?" Daryl bit out, feeling pain wash over him at the dead little girl's name. The little girl he had tirelessly searched for even when her own mama had given up. And how did Carol repay him? Was _this_ how she saw him?

Carol quickly reached out, gently placing her hand on Daryl's arm. Everyone at the prison was well aware of the buffer zone that Daryl kept around himself, and no one broke it unless they wanted a punch to the face. Carol was really the only person who was ever able to break his buffer zone. Usually it annoyed Daryl, but in that moment it was as if Carol was transferring her own gentle, calm feelings into Daryl through her light touch.

"Don't overreact on me," Carol told him, mild amusement dancing in her eyes. "I'm not accusing you of anything. I know you're a good man. But there are others here, such as Hershel, who wouldn't be happy to know you were alone in the forest with his daughter. You've ruffled his feathers enough as it is," she added, gently chiding.

Daryl breathed out, feeling his anger dissipating. He felt weak in the knees and slightly foolish from the way he reacted. He knew it was simply out of guilt because Carol was unwittingly touching a _very _delicate topic. Daryl gritted his teeth, his mind already working to block out the memories of what happened between him and Beth at the creek.

"It's not my fault he's a crazy Bible thumper," he muttered, forgetting that Carol herself was religious. Never quick to anger, Carol shook her head at him and moved her hand away.

"You shouldn't blame him for that. These days, you have to believe in something." Carol's eyes had a distant look to them, bringing Daryl to wonder if her thoughts were with Sophia. He knew that Carol's firm belief in heaven had made accepting Sophia's death easier. For all he knew, Hershel drew comfort the same way from the thought that his loved ones were in some happy place filled with light.

After a beat of thoughtful silence, Carol exhaled in a world-weary way and said, with a touch of finality, "Just be careful from now on, okay?"

* * *

**A/N: **I'm amazed by how well this is being received so far. Thanks to all of the kind reviews, follows, and favorites. I hope I kept everyone in character this chapter, especially with Daryl being faced with such an intrusion of his privacy. This is only a few months after the CDC, so he's still rough around the edges.


	4. Chapter 4

Adjusting to life at the prison was easier said than done. Despite the friendly ways of certain people like Carol, Glenn, and T-Dog, Beth was fairly certain that she and her family were not entirely welcome at the prison. Rick was cordial with them and seemed to respect Hershel, but barely spoke to Beth and Maggie. Dale, an older man, kept mostly to himself with the exception of Andrea, who Beth came to assume was like a daughter to him.

Rick's son, Carl, was not overtly friendly, nor was he mean to them. He mostly seemed caught up in taking care of his baby sister, and didn't spare any time for the newcomers. And, of course, Daryl was the king of cruelty. As the days passed by and Beth learned to relax around the prison-dwellers, she learned a lot about Daryl from Carol, who seemed to know Daryl well. She told Beth about the camp they all shared together in Atlanta and how Daryl's brother, Merle, had been separated from them and only left his hand behind.

"He's twice as bad as Daryl, so pray you never meet him," Carol would say, and from the look on Carol's face Beth knew she meant it. She couldn't possibly imagine someone worse than Daryl, but wisely decided not to try it.

It became obvious that Daryl was the loner of the group. Though the others all liked him, he seemed to enjoy his solitude. He was absent most of the time, hunting in the woods. Once or twice Beth caught herself looking out the windows at the trees and wondering where he was at that moment. She wasn't entirely sure why she bothered, because Daryl had made it blatantly clear that he didn't like her. He hadn't spoken a single word to her ever since the incident at the creek, which Beth was trying her best to forget about.

If one thing was for sure, it was that there was no time to twiddle her thumbs at the prison. This was probably the biggest change for Beth, since she was used to being at the farm where things were safer and therefore easier. At the farm, they didn't have to create blockades or take down walkers every day. But here at the prison, Beth found herself being coerced into working hard every second of the day.

Despite the slight distrust that would still sometimes show on the faces of Rick's group, they seemed to have no qualms about putting her to work. When she wasn't spending time with Maggie, Beth found herself going to collect firewood or help check the perimeter. Hershel quickly became useful as the others discovers his knack for patching up wounds, and in the first week Rick showed Hershel the infirmary and all of their medical supplies.

Even though she was being put to work, Beth still felt slightly out of place. She had no special skills that transferred over from her old life to this new world. She helped patch up holes in the fences and did other maternal things like helping cook and helping Carl watch over Judith. But after several days had passed it became clear that Rick's group had labeled her as basically useless, and so they gave her simple tasks like feeding Judith or helping clear out cells. It made Beth angrier than she'd ever been. As she lay awake, she was brought out of her thoughts by the sound of Maggie shifting awake. Maggie was constantly in pain, but she was far too proud to ever admit it. She still couldn't walk, but under Hershel's watchful care she was improving. Beth knew she was restless; Maggie always hated just sitting around. She would have traded her smelly cot for hard labor in a heart-beat.

Beth's eyes cracked open, still filled with sleep. She yawned and climbed down to sit with her sister. Maggie's hair was sticking up in random directions and she was absently finger combing out the knots. She struggled to sit up as Beth joined her. "Goodmorning, sleepin' beauty," Maggie smiled, ruffling her little sister's hair. She knew that this annoyed Beth and used to do it all the time, but it had been awhile since they'd felt safe enough to tease one another. Beth felt so bittersweet towards the past that she forgot to be annoyed.

"Morning," she yawned.

Maggie craned her neck back, exaggerating the way she fanned her hand across her nose as if clearing the air of a bad smell. "You could kill a walker with that breath," she joked, the smallest of smiles curling around her lips. Beth rolled her eyes but was too happy to be aggravated. It felt like ages since they'd felt relaxed enough to tease one another. It made Beth's chest swell.

Beth went to scrounge up some food to bring back to her cell with Maggie, where Hershel often joined them to break their fast before beginning the day. While Beth quietly put together a small portion of food to bring to her family, she was aware of foot-steps behind her. She found Daryl stepping into the kitchen area.

Involuntarily her chest tightened at the sight of him. Daryl's eyes passed right through her, clearly looking for someone who wasn't there. Without saying a word he disappeared from the room, the sound of his foot-steps fading through the cell-block. Beth blew out a breath of relief, slightly ashamed that he intimidated her so easily.

Breakfast was a hurried affair that morning. Neither Maggie nor Hershel appeared to be in much of a talking mood. Their mouths were thin lines as they quietly spooned cold food into their mouth, chewing without really tasting. Both of their eyes were lost in thought, as if there was something they weren't telling Beth. She drove the ominous thoughts from her mind and focused on minding her own business.

When the sun had risen, Beth found Carol hanging laundry on a line outside. Wind blew through the air, causing Beth to pull her hair up so that breaths of wind cooled off the back of her sweaty neck. It was a relief to feel the wind, when the air had been stagnant for so long. The only sound disturbing the silence was the occasional crack of Carl's gun from down below in the grassy slope. Beth's eyes briefly settled on the young boy, who appeared to be practicing shooting with his father. Rick was saying something to him and pointing, but his words were lost in the wind to Beth.

Beth offered to help Carol with the laundry, who gladly accepted. They were working in peaceful silence, hanging the clothes up on the long line of twine that Dale had found in a cell. Beth remembered all the times she used to put laundry out on a line with her mother, and chose to tell this to Carol in a soft voice. She had only meant to rustle up a conversation, and maybe let go of her pent-up sadness towards her mother's death.

Carol didn't say anything at first. The blazing sunlight was hitting their backs, and while Carol's skin had the ability to tan, Beth remained pale as paper. She could feel the back of her shoulders growing hot where the sun was burning her, but she didn't care. She was pretty sure that she didn't need to be worried about obtaining skin cancer.

"I used to hang up laundry with my daughter," Carol finally sighed, her voice wishful.

Beth froze. She'd had no idea that Carol once was a mother. Of course, it didn't take much to put two and two together; the way Carol spoke coupled with the fact that nobody had mentioned Carol having a daughter told Beth all she needed to know. She certainly had a knack for initiating these kind of awkward moments, with her thoughts involuntarily drifting towards Daryl.

"It's okay," Carol said, her voice lighter. Beth looked across at the gray-haired woman, whose eyes were smiling in the sunlight. The white shirt she was hanging up reflected the sunlight, giving Carol a ghostly glow. "You can ask me what happened."

Beth released a breath she didn't know she was holding. Remaining composed she asked Carol, as gently as possible, "What was her name?"

This was the other strange aspect of living in the apocalypse. The way people reacted to death now was so much different than they used to. In a way, Beth thought that death used to be something people feared. But now, with death quite literally walking around with them, it was more accepted. In the old world, speaking about dead loved ones was sometimes seen as disrespectful; in this world, it was the only way to remember them, since things such as photographs and scrapbooks were long forgotten.

"Sophia," Carol said, her voice filled with so much love that it squeezed Beth's heart. "She was about Carl's age when she died. She had this blonde hair that she never wanted to comb, and so I always had to sit down with her and brush it." Carol laughed, almost to herself. She was no longer really speaking to Beth about it. Maybe in a way she was speaking to Sophia herself.

Without being prompted by Beth, Carol answered the girl's unspoken question. "We were on the highway, our whole group, and a herd of walkers passed through. We tried to hide but... Sophia was chased into the forest. We never found her."

Beth took a moment to understand what Carol was really telling her. Though she had not known Carol for long, this woman was choosing to tell Beth something so personal. It was the kind of knowledge that a person could go years not knowing about a person, despite how close they became. Beth was filled with gratitude towards Carol for trusting her with the story of Sophia.

"Do you think she's still alive?" Beth asked tentatively.

Carol thought for a moment, the soft skin between her eyes brows creasing a little. She seemed to be studying the damp shirt in her hands for answers. "No," she said at last. "I know in my heart that she died. I have come to terms with it."

"I'm sorry," Beth said in this really tiny voice. She felt pitiful, but she was so overwhelmed with sadness for this gray-haired woman. Now as she gazed upon Carol Beth felt another wall between her and Rick's group fall away. Beth understood how powerful the bond between mother and daughter could be. Here was Carol, a mother without her daughter. And then there was Beth, a daughter without her mother. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

"Do you want to know something wonderful?" Carol asked softly.

Beth nodded, desperate for anything to take her mind off of her mother.

"When Sophia first disappeared, everyone searched tirelessly for her. We stayed as long as we could along that highway, but eventually we had to leave. Do you know the one person who didn't give up on Sophia, though? The one who kept searching even after the rest of us, even me, had moved on?"

Beth shook her head.

Carol's blue eyes quivered with tears, conflicting with the smile on her lips. It was a sweet smile, tainted by her sadness. "Daryl. He almost got himself killed looking for her. Eventually he moved on as well, but sometimes I think he still believes she's alive."

This knowledge threatened to bowl Beth over. Daryl, a hero? Of all the people in the group, Beth had almost expected Carol to say that Rick or Glenn kept looking for Sophia. But as Beth thought about it, imagining Daryl tracking the woods for a little girl, the pieces started falling into place. She recalled the way he had so delicately held Judith in his arms, and an unexpected wave of sympathy towards Daryl came over her.

"That _is_ wonderful," she echoed softly.

Carol's eyes were framed with tears, but they weren't tears of bitterness towards the death of her daughter. This amazed Beth, because she felt bitter sometimes towards God for everything he had taken away from her. It made her want to step back and re-evaluate everything she still had. Seeing the powerful emotions on this woman's face made Beth wonder if she could ever possibly be as strong as her.

"When the farm was overrun by walkers," Beth felt herself saying, feeling like she was having an out-of-body experience, "a lot of people I loved died. My mother and my brother, Shawn, were already walkers by that point. We kept them in a barn, so they could be safe, with other walkers. Daddy thought he could save them." Beth spoke quietly, feeling nervous about telling her father's secret to Carol.

Apart from a hint of astonishment flashing across Carol's features, she showed no sign of revulsion towards what Hershel had been doing at their farm. Encouraged by this, Beth sucked in a deep breath and kept going.

"When they overran the farm, Otis had to put them down. Right before he died, and Patricia too," Beth said, her voice quivering under the weight of what she was confessing. It was the first time she'd said anything like that out loud. Somehow it cemented the truth for her, as if up until that point it had been easier to think of their deaths as just a dream. It occurred to Beth that Carol had no idea who Otis and Patricia were.

"They were married, and worked with us on the farm. They were the first ones to die, since they were outside. And Jimmy died." Beth's voice trailed off until it was barely above a whisper. She stared off into the wild emerald grass, remembering the last time she had seen Jimmy. She couldn't get it out of her head that it was her fault they were all dead.

"Who was Jimmy?" Carol asked lightly.

Beth searched for the right word. Yes, Jimmy had once been her boyfriend, but in reality he had never been that to Beth. Even before the dead reanimated. After the world went to shit and he started living with her family, he became more of a rock for Beth. A person to unload all of her sadness and anger on. It hadn't been fair to her or Jimmy, and towards the end they became strangers.

"Boyfriend," she finally replied, suddenly tired of talking about dead people.

Carol must have felt the same way, because she didn't press any more questions on Beth. They resumed their peaceful silence, hanging up the clothes until everything sat on the line in the blazing July sun. There was barely even a breeze so. Beth longed for the wind to brush against her cheek and dry the mixed tears and sweat on her face.

When they finished and started the long walk back towards the inner gate, Carol turned to her. "Beth?" Beth, who had been staring at the grass lost in thought, looked to Carol quickly. Carol touched Beth's cheek, in such a maternal action that it brought memories of her mother rushing back. "Sometimes it's good to talk about them."

Beth knew that Carol was talking about the people they had all loved and lost. She thought there was something profound to that, and nodded. She didn't ever want to forget her mother, Shawn, Otis, Patricia, or Jimmy. She'd keep them all with her, wherever she went, like a flower tucked into her pocket.

* * *

Down in the grassy field, Rick was still with Carl and pointing at something in the distance. Beth's eyes followed where the gun was aimed and she spotted a row of bottles that had been carefully aligned. Beth watched as Carl rose the gun again. She could faintly hear Rick's voice roughly instructing Carl.

She waited until they seemed to take a break, and Carl approached the gate. Beth's hands worked quickly to open the gate, taking Carl by surprise. He must not have noticed her, which sent an involuntary pang through Beth. She was invisible to Rick's group. It hurt but it also drove her to become stronger.

"Nice shot," she remarked as Carl appraised her.

"Thanks," he said shortly, brushing past.

Beth watched his sweat-soaked back disappear into the prison, before locking the gate behind her and stepping into the grass. Her stomach was jumping with butterflies. She had never spoken to Rick one-on-one before, and he was quite an intimidating man. As the leader of the group, he was always busy and had no time to socialize with newcomers. He was rearranging the bottles, unaware of her approach.

Beth's mouth was dry as she watched Rick work, his back turned to her. She'd come out here on a whim and hadn't really thought out what she was going to tell him. What if he said no? Beth forced herself to speak up and felt a faint flicker of pride at the way her voice wasn't trembling. "Can you teach me how to shoot?"

Rick, who had no idea that Beth was there, looked up at her in surprise. He narrowed his eyes at Beth, as if trying to register how she'd managed to sneak up on him. He took a deep breath, placing his hands on his hips in the familiar stern-parent stance that Beth knew so well from Hershel. "Why are you askin' me that, Beth?"

A part of her was surprised that he knew her name, a thought that embarrassed Beth. She was also taken aback by the direct nature of his voice. Anyone else would have haggled and asked her a million different questions, but Rick got straight to the point. She respected that.

"I want to learn how to shoot properly so I can pull my own around here."

Rick's blue eyes were narrowed. He wasn't annoyed with Beth, he was contemplating. He placed a hand on his holster, reminding Beth of the first time she'd met Rick through the prison fence all those days ago. Somehow that felt like years ago.

"Fine," he said at last. "But I want your father's permission first."

Beth was astounded. Of all the possible scenarios she had imagined in her mind of how this conversation going, not a single one of them had ended with Rick agreeing with her so quickly. Maybe it was because she used to people arguing with her and telling her that she was too young to understand. But it spoke volumes about the kind of world they now lived in. The days of wasting time were long gone; every second counted, and Rick knew this. He knew that arguing was pointless because the truth was that Beth was right.

"Fine," Beth replied, echoing Rick's earlier choice of words.

Rick didn't ask Beth any questions. Carl showed up again not long after that, giving Beth an excuse to leave. That afternoon she asked for Hershel's opinion, and at first he argued with her about it. Apparently not _every _father was as agreeable as Rick. When Beth pointed out that Hershel let Maggie run around shooting guns but barely let Beth raise a finger, Hershel relented. Low and behold her father agreed to let Rick teach Beth how to shoot a gun.

The following morning, Beth woke up early and met Rick and Carl outside in the hot Georgia air. Beth wasn't allowed to shoot right off the bat. The first thing Rick taught her was gun safety, and he instilled in her several rules about using guns. The very last rule that Rick taught Beth affected her to her very core.

"Do not _ever_ shoot at a person unless it is a life or death situation," Rick told her in a deadly serious voice, his blue eyes fixed firmly on Beth's face. "Killing people in cold blood is wrong." It wasn't her imagination when Rick's voice wobbled slightly on those words. Carol had shared with Beth the way Rick had killed some of the inmates they found when they first arrived at the prison, and Beth shuddered at the idea. She'd never killed a person before in cold blood and hoped she never had to.

That was the first day of gun training. Rick spent hours drilling Beth on the rules of handling a gun. At first she stammered and couldn't find her voice around Rick. He was an intimidating man, and there was a certain cloudiness to his blue eyes that told Beth he wasn't entirely there with her. Nonetheless, he proved to be a teacher with tireless patience. Beth accompanied Rick on her first perimeter check that day, and by the time they reached the prison door Beth was exhausted.

For the rest of the night she recited the rules of handling guns to herself, reciting them in her mind until they were permanently burned there. The following morning when Beth woke up early to meet Rick outside in the dewy grass, she confidently recited to him the rules of handling a weapon. He nodded as she ticked off each rule. Beth hesitated as she spoke the last rule.

"Do not shoot at a person unless it is a life or death situation," she recited quietly. With those words, the reality of her situation came in full force to Beth. Learning how to use a weapon meant that one day, she would probably have to shoot at someone. She couldn't imagine taking another person's life, even if they had tried to hurt her.

When he was confident that she understood how to handle a gun, Rick took Beth through the steps of how to reload a gun. He let her use his own gun, and forced her to load and unload the weapon until her fingers were burning and raw. Rick stood quietly over her shoulder, watching Beth dismantle his weapon and then slide the bullets into place. Beth's fingers were sore and she could feel herself giving up. Perhaps she had bit off more than she could chew.

The moment her fingers stopped working, the gleaming bullets sitting disdainfully in front of Beth, there came not a word from Rick. She could sense him standing behind her, studying. Tears pricked at the corner of Beth's eyes and she knew she couldn't go on.

Rick quietly knelt down beside her, and picked up one of the bullets. He was a man of few words, so when he chose to speak Beth listened closely. He pinched the bullet between his index finger and thumb, holding it out for Beth to see. His blue eyes were clear today. They were trained on her. Intelligence glittered in the depths of his eyes.

"Reload the gun, Beth," he told her in a voice that was strict and fatherly all at once.

Beth closed her eyes, sucking in a deep breath. With renewed strength she ripped the bullet out of Rick's hand and carefully reloaded the gun. Beth finally snapped the last piece into place, and held the gun out for Rick to inspect. He took it in his hands, without smiling or giving her any sign of approval, and dumped the bullets out into the grass.

"Do it again. Faster," he commanded.

The process was repeated until the sun was high in the sky, sending their shadows stretching across the grassy slope. Beth's fingers were raw, but she could reload her weapon in seconds. She felt strangely proud as she held the weighty gun in her palm, feeling the bullets within.

Rick stood a ways off, his arms crossed and a thoughtful expression on his face. He came towards Beth in a slow gait, gently taking the gun from her hand. It wasn't Beth's imagination; his blue eyes were bright with a flicker of admiration. It occurred to Beth that Rick didn't believe she would be able to succeed. She was easy to write off as weak. But she had proved him wrong.

After an exhausting day filled with reciting the rules of handling a gun and falling asleep with her burned and raw fingers hugged to her chest, Beth told herself that the worst was over. The first day was always the hardest. She couldn't have been more wrong.

The following day, the real training began.


	5. Chapter 5

Daryl was sleepless.

He found himself awake at an early hour. Antsy for some reason, he paced back and forth on his roost. His eyes were always trained on the marks he made by his perch every night. Based on those marks, the newcomers had been at the prison for roughly three weeks now.

Daryl briefly touched the faint white marks, wondering how time could go by so quickly and yet so slowly at the same time.

He heard a little squeak on the stairs and was on alert at once. Upon closer inspection, Daryl discovered a little blonde leaning against the railing. It was Beth. At the sight of her, Daryl felt an involuntary lurch low in his stomach, bringing out a scowl on his face.

It had been awhile since their... _incident _at the creek, but the memory was still fresh in his mind. What was also fresh in Daryl's mind was the thousands of times he had replayed the scene over in his mind, and even though he knew the incident hadn't been entirely his fault, he still he wanted to shoot himself in the face.

"Whatcha want?" Daryl grunted.

Beth didn't cringe at his harsh tone, but he could still see the fear dancing in those blue eyes. Daryl had noticed slight changes in Beth ever since Rick had started teaching her how to shoot. She wasn't quite as meek as she'd been when first arriving at the prison, though she was still a weakling. It made Daryl curl his lip at her.

"Rick and Glenn are busy this morning, but I didn't get to shoot for very long yesterday and I don't want to get rusty," Beth said in a rush, her voice timid. "Rick suggested that you could, um, teach me this morning."

Daryl's gaze was flat. "No," he refused.

Beth's blue eyes sparked with annoyance. "Please, you just have to be there. I'm not ready to shoot a gun by myself yet."

"A damn five year old could shoot on their own," Daryl said scathingly. Beth finally flinched at the way the swear word rolled out of his mouth. It made the archer all the more aware of how clean and pure she was compared to him, intensifying his annoyance towards her. It must have shown in his eyes because Beth paled and stepped backwards.

"It- it's okay, I can go another day without-"

But Daryl was on fire now. He pushed himself towards Beth, hoping to break into her personal space and intimidated her. Beth didn't quite cringe away from him as he'd hoped she would, but she still looked alarmed.

"No. You wanna go shoot, princess?" he asked, voice dripping with rough annoyance. "Let's shoot."

Even though the sun hadn't fully risen yet, it was hot as hell outside. Daryl felt sweat dripping down his back as he led Beth outside into the grassy fields where she and Rick often worked. He didn't slow down, however, and started opening the final gate that led out into the forest.

Behind him, Beth sounded nervous. "Um, Daryl, what are you doing? The shooting range is back there."

A part of him registered the fact that Beth was being very courteous with him, despite the fact that he was so blatantly treating her badly. Daryl shot over his shoulder, "We're not doin' any of that pansy stuff. You're goin' out into the real world today, Greene."

He could practically _smell _Beth's fear, which shouldn't have thrilled him as much as it did. But to her credit she didn't break down into tears or start walking away, like he'd thought she would. She just stood stoutly behind Daryl and waited for him to open the gate. He remembered the walker she'd taken down all by herself three weeks ago, and hoped that today would bring that spark out in Beth again. She needed to learn how to nurture that spark in order to stay alive.

After locking the gate behind them, Daryl led Beth into the forest. He instructed her to walk in front of him, just in case anything happened. Beth had looked oddly at him after his request, as if wondering why he cared, but Daryl ignored this.

He also tried to ignore the way the back of Beth's neck turned red as they walked past the creek, but he couldn't help but watch as her creamy pale skin blossomed into a vibrant red. Daryl was grateful that she wasn't looking at him because he could feel his face warming up as well.

Once they'd made it past the creek, the forest stretched out before them and Daryl forgot to be awkward. He stretched out and shook his head, feeling like a caged animal who had just been released into the wild. His heart-beat returned to a normal pace, relaxing the muscles of his shoulders.

He was truly at home in the forest. His crossbow sprouted in his arms like a third limb, his fingers nimbly moving to release an arrow at a nearby squirrel. Flying true, the arrow embedded itself into the squirrel's spine.

Daryl pulled out the arrow and strapped the squirrel to his back, judging Beth's reaction to the dead animal. He'd assumed she would start crying at the sight of the animal he'd killed, since he'd noticed the way Beth rarely ate the meat he brought back from hunts, but she didn't seem bothered. Instead her face was flushed with life. He felt truly alive in the forest as well. Though it was safer inside those fences, after too long it began to feel like a cage.

Daryl made a low whistle, catching the girl's attention. A walker was stumbling towards them, with a particularly bloody mouth where its jaw had been nearly ripped off. However it still gnashed its teeth at Beth, posing the same danger as any other walker would have.

Daryl watched Beth react to the walker. Based on listening to Maggie and from simple observation, Daryl knew how little experience Beth had with real danger. He knew she'd been a princess at the farm she came from, and took joy in taunting her with that knowledge.

So his crossbow was loaded and he wouldn't have let the walker bite her, but Daryl wanted Beth to figure this one out on her own.

Beth shot Daryl a worried look right before placing her hand on her first weapon, the gun that Rick allowed her to carry. Daryl watched as Beth changed her mind, opting to use the knife instead.

He didn't want to admit that he was impressed with her decision, but he was. Anyone else would have chosen the quick death of the gun, but Rick had clearly drilled into Beth that guns were only to be used if it was a life or death situation. Besides, they were seemingly always low on ammo.

With a war cry too big to have come from Beth's tiny body, she threw herself at the walker. Daryl's brief feeling of being impressed was quickly doused as he watched Beth blindly slash the knife around like a toddler. She clearly had no idea how to properly use the weapon. He rolled his eyes, watching her struggle to stab the walker.

She cried out when the walker gripped her arm, causing her to lose her grip on the knife. It fell to the grass, out of range. Acting quickly, Daryl aimed his weapon and let an arrow loose. It flew through the air, narrowly missing Beth's tumble of blonde hair and sinking into the walker's neck, pinning it against the tree. Beth flew around to face him.

"I had it under control!" she snapped.

Daryl nudged her out of the way and approached the walker, which was still alive and thrashing. The arrow wouldn't hold long, but Beth was too angry to be aware of the danger. "Everyone else coddles me around here and I sure as hell don't need _you _to. Next time, let me handle it!"

Daryl shoved his face into Beth's, his hot breath on her face. "You wanna _die _next time, Greene? I just saved your ass." He kicked her knife towards her, pushing all of his disgust towards her into that simple action.

"Pick up your knife and do it again."

The fire died in her blue eyes as she took in the walker pinned against the tree. "What?"

"You wanna _prove _yourself to me?" Daryl spat, preparing to pull out the arrow that was the only thing keeping that walker from attacking them. "Here's your chance."

With a grunt he yanked the arrow out of the walker's shoulder, and it was stumbling towards Beth again. She looked at Daryl as if shocked that he was throwing danger at her face, satisfying him. She wanted him to treat her differently than the others? Fine. He was going to give her one hell of a ride.

"Move, girl!" Daryl barked, sounding like his brother.

Beth snapped out of her shock and started moving quickly. In one graceful swoop she had the knife in her hands and was slashing through the airs towards the walker. It stumbled towards the girl, eager to sink its teeth into her soft flesh.

Daryl walked around her as she fought, watching her carefully and shouting instructions. "Move to the left! Don't let it corner you! Bring it down!"

After several times of Daryl pinning the walker to a tree and shouting instructions at Beth, the girl seemed broken. She was trembling violently and there was smudged dirt and blood on her face from where the walker had almost grabbed her with its bloody hands. Her blue eyes were empty and flat, shocked from the amount of criticism Daryl had mercilessly thrown at her.

That this was brutal compared to the sessions she often had with Rick. Rick was a good man and tough when he needed to be, but he was a goddamn teddy bear compared to Daryl.

Daryl knew what Beth needed in order to really succeed: she needed to shut down. She put too much thought into every move and Daryl wanted her to shut all of that off so she could focus on one thing: life or death.

If he yelled at her long enough, fraying her nerves and exhausting her to the bone, that she would eventually shut down. He knew that because this was the exact way Merle had taught him how to fight, except that Daryl hadn't been facing a flesh-eating monster when he learned. The same principles applied, though.

He pinned the walker to a tree again, and took one long look at Beth. Her legs were quivering, she was gasping for air, and her hair was plastered to her face from sweating profusely. Daryl could see it in her eyes that she was shutting down. It was hard, but it worked. He had learned from the toughest asshole he knew, and Merle had survived it all.

Daryl took a deep breath, watching Beth carefully. So far she had surpassed his expectations, only complaining a few times and never giving up. He'd almost expected her to throw her knife down and walk away.

But she was compelled to walk away from this _only_ after finishing the job. Daryl admired this flicker of strength within the girl, and he wondered if she had more of a backbone than he'd originally pegged her for.

"Beth," he grunted, calling her by her first name for the first time.

This caught her attention and she slowly looked up at Daryl, her blue eyes weary and quivering. He realized that she was not the same kid Daryl had been when Merle taught him how to fight; she needed one last thing that would drive her to kill this walker.

In an much gentler voice he said to the girl, "You got this."

Her eyes widened, which at first Daryl thought was because he had praised her for the first time since they had met.

Then he heard the snarl behind him as the arrow snapped and the walker grabbed Daryl from behind, pulling him to the ground. Foolishly Daryl had left his crossbow leaning against a tree, and he swore.

The walker was strong even though it was dead, which pissed Daryl off. He knew it was impossible, but the walker seemed to be trembling with _rage_. Daryl had essentially been torturing the creature by repeatedly shooting arrows through its shoulder, and now the walker had its tormentor in its death grip. The walker snarled and powerfully pinned Daryl to the ground, seemingly not bothered by Daryl's bucking.

Just as Daryl felt the walker's teeth graze his shoulder, there came a sickening crunch as someone sank a knife into the walker's head.

It was Beth. She pulled the knife out and stabbed the walker again and against, spraying a fine layer of blood across Daryl. When he felt the life go out of the walker, Daryl grunted and pushed the creature off of him.

While Daryl was still collapsed on the ground, trying to regain his breath, Beth started attacking him.

He was confused for a minute until he realized she was vehemently checking his shoulder for bites, the shoulder where the walker had come dangerously close to breaking his skin.

A cold shudder went through Daryl at the memory, and he found himself comforted by the feeling of Beth's small, warm fingers running across his skin. He knew he was unscathed but for some reason waited a second before telling this to Beth.

"I'm fine," he grunted, trying to stand up. Beth stubbornly pushed against him, not letting him stand up until she was sure that he hadn't been bitten.

He wondered why she even gave a shit, since he'd just put her through the cruelest training course a person could have endured. He finally pulled himself up to his full height, looking down at the walker. Its head looked like a smashed watermelon. Everything was draped in ribbons of dark walker blood.

"You alright?" Daryl found himself asking Beth, looking inquisitively at her.

Beth nodded. She looked a little shaken up, but then was no denying the look of flamboyant pride on her face. Daryl wasn't sure why she looked overtly thrilled at first until he realized that Beth Greene had just _saved his life_.

As if reading his thoughts, Beth's mouth hinted at the beginning of a smirk. Daryl couldn't believe it. He now owed his life to her.

"How'd I do, boss?" she asked him, her voice only slightly teasing. Daryl was taken aback by her lightened mood after everything that had just happened, and wondered if she was on a high from taking out the walker after he'd tormented her with it for so long. He shook his head. _Women_.

"Fine," he grumbled.

Beth looked slightly crestfallen at his minimal praise, making Daryl feel like a dick. He sighed, reluctantly opening his mouth again and saying, "Good. Ya did good."

Even though it basically meant the same thing, Beth seemed pleased that she had been able to drag that kind of praise out of him. After all, with someone like Daryl, the word "good" was about the highest praise you could get. And the truth was that she _had _done really well, considering what a young learner she was.

Daryl could feel her smiling shyly up at him through her blonde hair, and he coughed uncomfortably. "It was sloppy though," he growled, as if making up for the fact that he'd just praised her.

His words then gave way to a full-blown rant. "You're shitty with that knife and clearly have no idea how to fight. You don't react fast 'nough and that'll get ya killed one day."

He was really just blowing off steam because his pride was wounded. _He _was the older, more experienced one; shouldn't it have been the other way around?

Beth's smile faded, but Daryl could practically see her high spirits shining like the sun. She was positively thrilled that she had just taken down the walker that almost killed the infamous Daryl Dixon, and they both knew it.

No amount of ranting from Daryl's part could dampen her now, which only nettled him more.

They started heading back towards the prison, covered in blood and sweat. They didn't say a word to each-other the entire time, which Daryl was grateful for. They traveled in silence all the way through the canopy of trees, right when the shade of the forest came to an end and the prison began.

Just as the prison came into sight, Beth turned around and said cheekily: "I just saved your ass, Dixon," echoing his earlier words to her.

Daryl was appalled. He'd just been trying to teach her some fighting skills and had unwittingly created a monster.

* * *

**And I'm back.**


End file.
