Walking Dead 1. Chapter 1

_**This is going to be another 7-ish chapter story, it follows on from the first one, but I don't really think that you have to have read that to understand. (By all means do it's the first thing I ever wrote and finished) I hope you all enjoy it! xxx**_

Everybody thought they knew Beth Greene. Beth thought she knew Beth Greene. Everybody thinks they know themselves and then the zombie apocalypse happens and in actuality we find our true selves.

The Greene farm was way out in rural Georgia, hidden from the tragedy standing tall and painted white, a little haven. On the occasion that a reanimated corpse did come tumbling along Hershel and Otis would go out, bring 'em to the barn. Hershel didn't know how bad it had gotten, and Hershel hadn't even told Beth how bad he thought it was.

She'd lost her mother, her brother, her whole life gone. And it was shot down right in front of her. Literally, with cold hard bullets, when her undead mother grabbed her pigtails and tried to eat her. This was a sick world. And it was one that Beth had had to learn to fit into. It took time, and patience. It took a bit of persuasion form a certain redneck showing her she didn't want to die to realise what life was going to be now.

She didn't get to have a prom or secure future, she wasn't reaching eighty and may never have her own children reach the age of five. She didn't get to break up with guys over something stupid and go out for ice cream.

But in that moment it seemed ok. Her wrist was bleeding out once again for her last time trying to take control of her own death, it stained the light silky fabric of the prom dress her mother made her months and months ago. She didn't care, and he didn't care either. The age wasn't a problem, and any other complaints he may have once had. Because she was alive. And he would give up everything before he gave that up.

The trip back to the prison as soothing as it was, couldn't be described as anything but the calm before the storm. Having to carry a prom-dressed, weak Beth into the prison was bad enough. Trying to yell that she wasn't bit only allayed the fears long enough for expert Herschel to get round to stitching up the wound. And Herschel was no fool. He might look over the dress his wife made. He might be able to ignore the way his youngest daughter was looking at the rough man that carried her in like a piece of china. But he couldn't ignore the clean line of a knife against her wrist again.

He shouted at her eventually. But she had to wait a while. After the painful, in every sense, sewing up of her wrist. Had to wait until the days of stony silence and sighs whenever he saw he propped up in her bed rest. Then he was disappointed. Then he blamed himself. And only then he shouted.

It was long enough after Maggie's own rants at her for the words to stick and the apologies to be sincere. She did care, but part of her resented how they still couldn't understand.

But if innocent angelic Beth Greene was in deep shit with her father, Daryl was even more so. According to a visiting Carl, he had made himself scarce due to the looks both Hershel and Rick were giving him. There had been an abundance of freshly caught meat, due to the hunting party being gone dawn to dusk to avoid the wrath of the father figures. Irresponsible Daryl, not possibly irresponsible Beth.

She felt almost bad, then remembered how he'd climb into her bed every night at a god-forsaken hour, and hold her whilst pretending he didn't care that he had almost lost her. And he'd hold her as she slept and pretend that they were simply friends as they had been before they left thins place on a literal suicide mission. But she saw it in his eyes still. That tiny bit of hurt at her wrist and the guilt he felt for thinking that she could've been saved this torture. Daryl didn't know how to do love, he couldn't receive it either- but he wasn't forced to receive it, he could throw away given love. But feeling it? Oh, feeling it isn't something you can deny. It scared him.

The restraint to her cell was getting to her, not even Judith was left in her care for more than an hour under careful supervision of Carol. It was fucking joke. So she decided she would only so it for a week.

Exactly a week later, Beth dressed herself and looked out of the cell checking each way like a cartoon escaping prison. Which she wasn't, just the prison cell. She walked down to the library, where a small nursery had been set up. Sasha was struggling to contain the children, her hair sticking out in every direction and muttering how she was a fighter not a baby sitter.

''I can take over, y'know?'' Beth's voice was still as smooth and girlishly normal as it had ever been, but recently it seemed to startle people with its sincerity and openness. It's like everyone expected her to be hoarse from crying or not want to talk at all. To prove the point Sasha jumped.

''Beth? I thought you were resting upstairs-'' her face was obviously shocked, but it barely hid the deep seeded desire to want to throw children at her and go outside to actively protect the others.

''On bed rest? Yeah, it's pretty boring. I ain't sick you know-'' Beth smiled, self-consciously pulling her jumper sleeve down and looking Sasha right in the eye. Her gamble played off, most people tended to get a bit squeamish about these things despite the fact that they killed walkers for a living. Who knew that even in the apocalypse mental health issues were still taboo?

There was no time for Sasha to try and persuade Beth that her father would kill them both if he found out, because the mute curly haired kid nearly knocked Beth over with a wide grin and fierce hug to her legs. She knelt down to his height, managing to squeeze a few words from him as the other children came round to ask about her absence.

Sasha was in awe at how nicely and smoothly Beth lied about having a small cough and not wanting to pass it on, and that's why she had been in bed all this time. Children are children, and they'll believe anything, but Sasha almost wanted to believe that was true too. She knew Beth was old enough to make her own decision, and if she chose to live than maybe it's what she needed to do to figure that out. She felt bad about how lonely she must have felt going through all that with no one to talk to, but of course if the group's suspicions were right Dixon had been in on it too. Only he hadn't said anything since saying she wasn't bit.

Beth was still out as dinner rolled round. She caught Daryl walk into the kitchen to give Carol some squirrels, and was about to go over after him, when she saw he was attempting a swift exit to the back of the prison. She could follow, but somehow going outside the prions physical walls seemed like an unforgivable defiance to bed rest. She did it anyway. Praying to God silently for forgiveness and following the noise of shuffling footsteps around the corner.

Only they weren't Daryl's. Somewhere in her debating to stay or go, someone else had snuck out after Daryl- and it was this person she almost walked into. Her father didn't see her, her reflexes quickly pushed her back around the corner without really thinking about it. Her eyes burned with the image she had just seen. Her father walking over, limping to Daryl who was sat on the hard ground with a cigarette and a lonely plate.

''What do you know about Beth?'' Herschel didn't even try and soften into the conversation, it was straight to the jugular. From years of hearing fights with him and Shawn or Maggie, Beth knew Herschel was past livid.

As soon as Daryl answered it was obvious he wasn't playing by the rules on this, he was taunting her father. Stupid man. Hoping for an explosion to ease his own conscious for taking her there, even if he would do it again the same way.

''Hmm-'' Daryl's voice was low and growly, he obvious was reluctant to say anything. But Beth could pinpoint the exact second her father gave him the look, as his tongue slackened off a bit. ''I know she's kind, and sweet and she believes in God, and that she feels bad you and Maggie are so upset-''

''Why do you think we're upset? You ain't a father, Dixon. You don't understand how much that girl means to me- to our family-'' her father had barely paused to let Daryl answer the rhetorical question choosing instead to try an berate him for actions that we out of his control. She knew her father felt bad, but Daryl did too- she heard a small mumble, Herschel caught it too.

''What was that?'' Herschel's voice was cold and empty, she had the feeling her father already heard what Daryl said. He was simply daring him to repeat it.

''I said yes I do. I do understand.'' Her eyes widened. And she knew that he was confirming his affection for her, however serious it may be, to her father. For Daryl that was an admission she wouldn't have expected for years, let alone a week.

''You took her there on purpose?''

''Yes.''

''You knew she was going to do it?'' it was as if Herschel had anticipated the bluntness of Daryl's answer, reeling of another question without a heartbeats break between them.

''Yes.''

''You lied to my face.'' The last one came out somewhere between a statement and a question to be answered. The aging man's voice reaching a saddened low disappointment.

''She asked me to.'' Daryl's voice held a non-compromising obviousness, like there wasn't anything he wouldn't have lied about, or kept a secret of, if only she asked him to. She heard her father take a step back, and then Daryl's voice continued in its slow sincere and placating way. Rare was the occasion Herschel Greene was angry and Daryl Dixon was not. ''Sir, I respect you. You know I do. But from where I was stood there was no changing her mind.''

''Then what did?'' Herschel was still bitter, he was no fool and he had seen the change in his daughter in the last month or so. He felt humiliated at himself for thinking her smiles might be the end of depression, not the start of a love affair with death.

''I couldn't tell you.'' Unbeknownst to Beth, Daryl look away as he said this, unable to look into the eyes of her father anymore because they hurt too much to know what pain he had aided.

''Stop keeping secrets Dixon. I have half the right to help the others kick you out, you took a little girl to slaughter- you let her mutilate herself-

Beth felt anger grow cold in her stomach, as her face got warmer than the fires of hell. She didn't know what possessed her to do it, but she rounded the corner and took it all in. Daryl was sat on the floor still, detached and staring blankly at her father. The man who brought her up was close to him, nearly purple in the face with anger. The childish part of her wanted to run away, but they had seen her- and they both looked just as surprised by her entrance. That only infuriate her further, they only talked about her when she wasn't around.

''Daddy stop! It was my choice. D-Daryl tried to stop me, he won't say he did, but he did.'' She sounded higher pitched than she would've liked but Daryl still looked down guiltily. Of all the people who won't defend themselves because they think they deserve the punishment, Daryl was the most infuriating. He wanted Herschel to shout at him, he thought he deserved it. And if he wasn't standing up for himself, then she'd do it for him.

''Bethy- you're meant to be inside.'' His voice was cold and stern, as if he could still try and play doctor with her. Herschel took in his daughter, she hadn't been deterred from the removal of day clothes from her cell. Braving it around in pyjama bottoms and a thick jumper. Her cheeks were vibrant red and hair wild, in that moment he only really saw Maggie.

''I don't want to be inside anymore. I want to help fight, I ain't a little girl, and this ain't the farm. I j-just don't want you to be angry at me a-any more-'' where Beth managed to make herself sound strong for the first part of her sentences, the Greene courage soon wore off. Beth Greene wasn't the type to win a fight by shouting, her small shoulders were starting to rack and before she knew it she was stood there crying.

Hershel and Daryl both watched Beth fall apart as if she were in slow motion. Her fists were clenched and the pretty face screwed up to try and control the river of tears she'd kept in for the week. They both felt their stomach clench uneasily, as the sunshine girl poured her heart out. Her father limped over, taking her in his arms like she was five years old gain and he could heal the wound with a little compassion. She cried into his shirt and he patted her back whilst mumbling comforting things about not being angry at her.

The hardest thing to do it tell somebody that you're afraid. Afraid that your baby is going to leave you in this hell with no little girl to make it alright to pretend for ten minutes that it's all how it used to be. Afraid that the woman you've found is going to disappear because she never really existed in the first place, because nothing good ever stays near to you. Afraid that you aren't the same as you were, but not the same as the others either, and that you know you have to make your own way of dealing with all the death.

Because everyone is afraid. But everyone keeps living.

_**So as the prologuey-catching up to where we are chapter the others will be a bit more focused and less broad, tell me any ideas you have by all means! Xxx THANK YOU **_


	2. Chapter 2

_**I'm so happy that the next chapter of this is done, I'm trying to spend a bit longer on them, hence why there was a bit more of an update gap than with my others stories. Thank you to those who read it, and reviewed and all those other things. I will try so hard not to disappoint! xxx**_

Beth allowed Daryl to mope for another week or so. He still wouldn't look her in the eyes, but Herschel surprisingly eased off a bit, even letting Beth go back to her old duties. It was now that she back doing stuff that she felt his absence the most. He had become like a little duckling at one point, basically following her around to sit in silence with her, or she would sit on guard duty with him with the same book she was now reading alone. It wasn't so much the interaction she missed, just the void of

Curly haired cherub boy smiled as he followed his instructions. In one little hand he held a lone kit-kat, and the other he had his own payment of a stale cookie that Beth had stolen for him. He would do anything for Miss Bethy, and he felt special to be chosen specifically for this mission. In his head he played little music like they had in Carl's paper picture books. He pretended he had a long piece of scarlet material around him to play the part, but it didn't matter if he didn't.

The cell block was empty, everyone was doing their jobs or stretching their legs in some way. People were always doing something, he knew that much. His mother and he slept in the other cell block, but Miss Bethy had told him exactly where he was to go. The metal stair made a strange twanging step with each movement he made, but no one was near enough to look in, and if they did what would they say the child? At the end was Daryl Dixon's cell, and that's where he went.

Bethy hugged him when he got back, and he quietly nodded that it went okay. She smiled at him in that way that she hadn't done since she came back from being ill. He wondered what she caught to make her leave them for so long, he hadn't even been able to see her, though he cried and did the pouty face his mother hated him doing cause she would give in. The adults all seemed so serious, and the other children seemed as perplexed as he was at the whole thing. They accepted carol's lessons, though they talked about boring things and she didn't use different voices at story time. But Bethy was currently spreading out a jigsaw puzzle they had all played so many times, she made it into a race, happily yelling 'go' and counting seconds loudly to them all. She called them team building exercises, but he didn't join in.

Instead he leant him little blonde curls against her leg, she patted him hair happily and let him hold her hand. He had missed her. And he was scared she was going to get sick again. Sick like his daddy did, or his grand-daddy had when they left his spaceman themed room and started living in a car because those scary people tried to hurt them.

Daryl got back in from his shift on the guard tower, he had gone up straight from the hunt that day, not that it had lasted long they had unfortunately caught a buck not to hours in. it was good for them all, but he simply stalked off to find any job to do. After finding out fence duty was being taken care off, he took up the position of Glenn's watch so he could have Maggie time. That hadn't helped much, the whole reason he was staying busy was to try and forget the last portion of his life. How hard would he have to hit his head to forget and be at peace again?

Watch still allowed thoughts of her to creep in. and once they started they never stopped. He moved from how stupidly the sky matched the stormy shade of her eyes, to how it had rained that night at the farm too- just like it was now. And then the feel of her lips on his in the cold rain, and then the feel of her hot lips of his around that fire, to the feel of other parts of him against the same night. He groaned inwardly, feeling dirty thinking about Beth that way.

Because he'd do anything to have her back, anything at all. Not even for her to touch him, just to be allowed to be around her- watch her talk to the children and tap her feet as she read. He missed her being around, and it felt like the days after Christmas when you take the ornaments down and the room feels too big and too empty.

But he was resolute, space was what she wanted, or by any means what they needed. A bit of time and she, and he, could remind themselves this 'attraction' was caused by desperate emotions that she never had fulfilled. He was indescribably feeling positive emotions about her not being dead, but he couldn't name what it was he felt about it all, particularly not now. Pushing back his too long hair, he sat there another few hours. Being pulled from his thoughts by Rick, who even gave a brief smile for the first time since the Beth run incident, he left to go to his bed and hopefully not dream about blonde curls.

When he got to his cell he did the usual routine. Sheet down as an impromptu door, jacket off, sit on bed for boots- wait, why was there a kit-kat on his bed? Daryl looked around suspiciously, edging to look at the silver and red wrapper. It seemed weird to have a precisely placed chocolate bar on his bed, and no one would purposely leave him anything nice. Unless it was poisoned. He didn't suspect Hershel or Maggie of stooping that low. He opened it deciding it was 'whoever had left it''s loss, and if it was poisoned well he'd take that too.

After the pleasant, non-poisoned snack he settled in bed, pretending his life was back how it was before this. And he wouldn't sleep with a teenager in a tent because she wanted commit suicide. God, it was so messed up. Honestly, he couldn't even remember why he was the one dragged into this whole fucking mess.

Shit, Beth left the chocolate.

That's how it all started, wasn't it as simple as that? He had naïvely hoped that a slab of dark chocolate would make the Greene girl smile a bit more rather than have that damned fake happiness thing going on like a drugged up cheerleader. Then he was down the rabbit hole and into a world of sorrow and pain and self-destructive belief. Of course, it couldn't be over. She wasn't letting him get out as easily as he got in.

Chocolate is meant to be a classic way of cushioning blows. It's a way of saying 'be happy', and then it was a way of saying 'I'm sorry I'm killing myself', and now- what? What was Beth trying to tell him here? His brain hurt as he tried to force himself to sleep, or not think about Beth, or how he didn't savour that kit-kat that she had left for him.

Great, now a freaking bar of chocolate was stopping him from getting any rest. He made a noise of discontent, slowly breathing and finding it hard to lay here.

For the first week or so he had stayed in Beth's bed. He wouldn't talk to her, or wake her when he left in the early hours of the morning when he left. But after the whole affair he had needed to know she really was still alive and breathing, besides he hadn't slept so well in years. Then the talk with Hershel stopped his nightly visiting, no matter how innocent because his words were still too busy resonating in his skull. Beth was only a little girl really, but no little girl he had ever seen seemed so sure of her solidity of emotion. And that scared him about her. He could lie about what he felt, but she was never going to- not for him, not for anybody else either.

It was possible to not wake Hershel or Maggie and get into the cell they slept either side of. Sandwiched between her family members, Beth's light was always out on time and her movements had been forced to take on a silent quality for when she couldn't sleep and wanted to pace around restlessly instead. That's what she was doing now, pacing. But not the normal pacing, this was sleep-deprived, stay-awake-Beth pacing- she was waiting for him.

He sighed in the door way upon realising this, making her small frame jump slightly and look at him with a vulnerable smile. He offered a hand silently, to guide her thought the cells to a more appropriate place to talk.

Michonne just happened to be walking in as they got to the door, however unlike the rest of the guys here she had no issue silently letting them both got through and heading to bed without ever acknowledging it again. She was good that way, kept her business to herself even when a man way too old for a girl is dragging her around by the hand in her tiny little floral nighty. It didn't look good, but somehow he knew Michonne hadn't taken it out of context, or if she had she didn't actually give a shit. He liked people like that, respected them.

Beth was breathlessly tiptoeing behind him. He was impressed how stealthy she had gotten on her feet, even he was having difficulty remembering she was still there. They headed down the tombs to the library, shutting the door in place and clicking the lock for good measure. It crossed his mind that that looked more suspicious than his plan to talk to her.

Daryl looked up, letting go of her hand gently and imposing a bit of space between them. She looked uncertain, but he felt uncertain. Her little lips were slightly parted, and her lack of shoes made her a whole head shorter than him. He damned her fragility, because it made that needed gruffness inaccessible to his voice.

''What is it you want, Beth?'' he looked at her, hoping the icy blue glare he could do without trying would make her back off. It didn't. Instead she took a step forward, frowning as he took a matching step back.

''I want what we had before-'' her voice was straight-talking, it surprised him how well she had the sweet honey-covered drawl in check. A right little performer, because he could read her eyes like the hunter he was, she was scared- and the power gave him a rush.

''I don't know what you mean-'' he needed to cut her off, stop her fixing the issue with words he could believe, so that he could instead forever deceive himself into believing tried his very best.

''Yes you do, Daryl Dixon. I want us to read together, and sit at the table eatin' stuff, I wanna kill walkers and have you laugh at me being too short to get them properly- and and I want- I want whatever it was we had-'' her voice was stronger, more assertive but it wavered with the emotion she was trying to suppress. Beth was a good little liar, he knew that much, but she was failing to keep it all in. and somehow that was scarier than if she said she never wanted to see him ever again.

''None of that means anything, yer daddy-'' he was ready to throw out a bunch of obstacles and issues that she might give a damn about, but she had taken his moment of smug excuses to grab his face and press her lips against his.

It hurt slightly, but it was like a tiger seeing prey for the first time. Instinctive. It had been too long, but no time at all since he was floating in this ecstasy. He knew exactly how to kiss her back, holding his hands in her hair and tugging her roughly closer. The urgency and need was primal and surprisingly just as strong from her side as from his. He relished the little noises, briefly biting down on her lower lip smiling devilishly at her only standing further onto her tip toes. Her little hands were almost expert in their ingenuousness, pulling at his shirt to run soft hands up his warm skin.

She broke off looking him dead in the eye, hands now holding the waistband of his jeans. He felt dazed, as if she drugged him with that kiss to get exactly what she wanted, ignoring any of his valid reasons to not let himself get hurt.

''-Don't lie to me-'' her voice was small, and eyes too big and wide to belong to a woman of her age. He knew this was the crux of the matter, that he wasn't meant to shy away anymore. And the choice was as simple as having her in a terrifying admission of having feeling for her, or leaving and feeling the pain of the last week until he died.

His lips pressed against hers lightly, nodding as he pushed her into to wall and thus into the kiss. It was the choice he made that started her fervent kisses back, knowing he was moving in the right direction. His hands were on her hips, then lower, kneading the flesh gently. He propped her up effortlessly, using his body to hold her against the door. She made him feel like he was someone else, someone whole and real in a world ruled by humans again but without the shitiness that idea entailed.

And he got to the side of Beth he loved the most, the passionate raw little minx that took down a fully-grown man by laying with a kite and stole his heart along with his bar of chocolate.

Her thighs were cold as the rest of her, he kissed the exposed skin gently, his hard stumble grazing across it desperately. Pinning her down and carefully constructing their own little world in a fort of books. Mused hair and heavy lidded, Beth Greene was more than some farmer's daughter- she was life itself, but something was infecting the prison. Something was busy taking life away.

_**So what are you guys thinking so far?**_

_**xxxx**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**I know I've been a bit sparse (mostly form my other stories) but here we are! And I hope you enjoy xxx I wanted to tackle stigma of mental health too- so I hope it comes across what not to do *cough Herschel cough* xxxx**_

Some things inevitably bond us to one another. This can be as simple as sharing an experience or as complex as a turbulent journey into the more intricate elements of the human condition. Beth and Daryl were inarguably tied to each other, there was no two ways about it. It was a transitional period which they both learnt to accept that the other was no longer just another stranger in the same apocalyptic haven as themselves. They were bound, and years later he would remember her and think of her as his life flashed before his eyes.

The first real morning in which the sun had come out in a week saw Beth waking up to the sound of yells. The first scream was the worst, the loudest strangled. Singular and loud. Then the sicken chorus joined in. death clung to those sounds, the noise of the end. You can't scream here unless you're dying or going mad- not if you don't want the walkers to get you.

Daryl had sat up seconds before her brain configured the blood curdling noises to what they were. There was no time between his registration and jumping up. Once a solitary man, Daryl now found himself irrevocably changed to a man forced to aid others for his own moral admission. She was only a few steps behind, able to pull on pyjama bottoms and his shirt at a much quicker pace than his own boots and jeans.

Shrugging on his leather vest and holding crossbow, Daryl raced down the hall to the continuous noises, knowing it was too late to help them all. Beth veered off to the panicked cries of baby Judith, knowing the attention was undesirable. He saw her go, silently relieved she wasn't headed toward greater danger.

Cell block D was gone. There was no doubt about it, you saw the smeared blood the battle between the undead and the dying and you knew there was no chance of rebuilding the memories of this being the new home. They should have known then, something was off, something made someone die. Stabbing walkers of people you knew was harder, perhaps that's why more casualties existed. Daryl picked off the threats, not looking at their sickly faces should he have strong memories of something they had done.

It was done. Rick and the other's had helped bursting in at the first signs of any problem, just like he had. But even that much hadn't been enough to stop the fallen from falling, and so the process was going to begin. Daryl didn't stay to help clear up, the weeping ceremonies made his nauseated in a way so different from how it started. When he saw his first walker's victim die, he had watched a little boy cry over his body, sobbing pathetically. The only thoughts he had then were pathetic pity and jealous that he would never cry over his father dying like that, in fact, he hoped he was dead. But now the cries got to him, made him think of the sheer number of _**people**_ he had killed. Either alive or dead. And he barely cared to do it, that moral restrain seemed somehow lessened form the life lessons he had learnt, or the ones that he had missed.

There wasn't a breakfast or lunch in plan, not really. The routine was destroyed for their day- another thing that unsettled him. If they cut their way of life it was only an amount of time before the infrastructure fell apart. Rick needed to impose a ritualistic rigidity to this place if he hoped to control out breaks like this. Why was he blaming Rick?

Beth came out mid-afternoon a tray of steaming mugs for him and the other grave diggers. Her grim face tried small smiles at all the dirtied men, patting the arms of those who had lost close ones and passing out food to those so close to it themselves consolingly, he watched her walk around balancing it all perfectly. He hated seeing her have to be the unshaken one, but having not seen it at her father's insistence it was too much for her 'fragility of mind', Beth was the only one in a position to offer anyone any help. He wanted her to help him. Couldn't she see that?

But she did, and she did her bit to leave him last. Reaching him at the edge grave for the dozen they were digging a row away from Lori and T-Dog, she sat down cross legged, holding his mug of soup until he stopped. He might not stop, he didn't want to. He wanted these people to have their normality and get rid of the bodies so they didn't pose a threat. So instead, after eventually realising he wasn't slowing his pace, she offered him small sips between each scoop. Gratefully he looked at her little face, rosy cheeked from the sun where he was sweating and red-faced. Her hair was tied back as always and she waiting patiently for him to finish, not needing to say anything because simply being there in front of him made him feel like he could protect her better. She was there, and she was alive.

Returning to the prison with a tray of empty mugs, Beth sighed reluctant to go back inside, but her eyes were painful form the sunlight. Rick was pacing down the hallway, holding his head from the day's events. She couldn't blame him, now was not a good time to have so vast a number reliant on you. The strain was showing in every part of him face, he was lost and he was angry- but leaders don't get to have emotions until the danger has passed. She was going to slip past when he stopped her.

''Beth-'' his southern accent had gotten deeper, overuse and the dry air wrecking it to a gravelly tone she knew wasn't supposed to sound like a reprimanding teacher. She turned, still holding the tray with two hands, knuckles white with the emotion she had felt watching him for the last minute or so. She tried to smile at him nicely, wanting to give him some sort of shoulder and knowledge that she wasn't leaning on him right now to lift the burden.

''Thank you. Herschel told me you were found upstairs with Judith, that should've been my job-'' his voice was scratchier, dare she say with regret or guilt. The man really did take on too much.

''You did right by the people here,'' she hated how quiet she sounded, wanting to have that authoritative voice of her father or her sister. But forceful was difficult in this reclusive state of shock for them all. It was true though, and Beth didn't mind looking after Judy one iota, in fact she loved that child it hadn't registered to go to the others help at all. Did that make her selfish then?

''But not by my children.'' His voice was somehow sharp but slow, as if she was insulting him or he was doing it for her. His hand was back over his eyes, leaning against the concrete walls in pure despair. This word was a slow burning hell, she knew that but still the price was too high to give up, hope spurred them on. But hope faded sometimes and you had to go and find it, had to fall in love and meet new people. Hope was there for times like these.

''Where would we be if we only took care of our family? If my father had said that the day you arrived on our farm?'' Beth's voice grew stronger, forcing him to listen to her. Although she and Rick had been on rocky terms in the conflict of parenting, she couldn't leave him to think he was doing a bad job. His little girl was fed and not being fed-on, they were the only standards for a job well done nowadays.

When she walked off then, leaving quickly and he was almost totally dejected by the teenager, then she returned in a small jog-tray now gone. He looked at her and she grabbed his hands unexpectantly. Pulling rick in to library, small hand tight on his wrist and marching authoritatively, they made their way to the edge of the room. Here Beth let go, disappearing amongst the children quickly to mutter hellos. He just watched, this side of the room had been change entirely, having no reason to kickback in the school he never saw how wonderfully colourful Carol and Beth had made the space. Drawings and found posters littered the walls, squiggly and crooked crayon pictures like Carl used to give him for the fridge or his desk at work. Judith's childhood was going to be so different to her brothers, and he already felt he was losing his little boy to this place.

Beth came back over with Judith on her hip, the child snuggling into the girls shoulder happily. The blonde was comforting and warm, the nearest thing to a mother she would know, the nearest thing to a parent if he didn't start giving some Grimes time to both her and Carl. She handed him his baby, nestled her complaining head against his shoulder and stroked her hair until she settled to the idea of Rick holding her instead. Rick awkwardly fell back into his instincts, walking up and down the hallway outside the library talking nonsense to his little girl. He grew more and more relaxed, so Beth smirked, nodded at him and left.

It pained her to share the attentions of what she frankly saw as her baby, but she needed a father and after all Judith deserved to be loved as much as Herschel loved her. Sometimes she wondered what Judith was going to be, if she'd grow too quickly or loose the human sympathy for not having anyone show her the right ways to live.

Wandering aimlessly back, she realised there was nothing else to do. Her head felt full, like there were thoughts pushing to get out and the pressure was nearly blinding. The only problem was she didn't know what those thoughts were. Sitting down and holding her head in her hands, Beth tried to shake out thoughts and physically hold her head together. Perhaps it was a minute or an hour later when Maggie walked by ready to take over watch.

''Hey Beth,'' she saw her sister sitting on the floor, head in hands and the only thing that made sense was that she was upset over the events. Herschel was right that Beth was too sensitive. ''Sweetie, are you feeling okay? You know- emotionally?''

Beth looked up at her sister, eyes not focusing for a second. The look of pitiful unsureness was enough to simply annoy her. Beth never tended to snap at anyone, but some for some reason or another her temper was simply a click away. Standing up defiantly and realising how weak everyone saw her, Beth made a noise of total annoyance and stalked off unhappily down to the cell block. Maggie shouted something after her, then huffed off herself to complain and snitch to daddy as sisters do.

Herschel nodded at Maggie, realising they hadn't given Beth enough attention perhaps for the day. He felt she was too psychologically unstable, and despite everyone's arguments that he was mollycoddling, he was her father and he would force her to be alright again. She had to be, sunshine Beth Greene was never going to be allowed to turn into this scared woman, she had to be his baby.

The hallways were filled with shouting a few hours later. News had spread that the first deaths were caused by some freaky zombie carried virus, a flu like symptoms from the sounds of what the doctor was saying. Poor Patrick had no idea that he was dying when he fell asleep last night, no idea what havoc he would cause. It was so easy to lower your guard in this life, they all had to remember that. If it's quiet, something is coming. The coughing had only spread, symptoms developing so quickly that in itself was a problem. They could all have this sickness.

The shouting tuned out to be a fight between Rick, who already looked at the end of his tether, and tired. Some casualties had come to light, a man had died and two others murdered for having it. His advice sturdily was continuous quarantine, but there was little you could do about a flu, particularly one in such crowded spaces with little in the way of disinfectant. Once Tyresse stormed off, Herschel sat with rick, patting his back and giving the best wisdom that he could, praying silently.

Having given Beth the afternoon to nap and calm down, Hershel made his way to her cell. He would break the news of what's been happening to her in a way which would disrupt her too much, he already knew as soon as she cried he was ending the list of casualties for the day. A lot had happened. No one was safe.

Beth was in her cell, lying in bed little eyes closed with the same pout she always slept with as a toddler. She looked just as peaceful as then too, should you overlook the little droplets of sweat on her forehead. When she moaned Herschel took a step closer, heart breaking at her pallid complexion and shivering. He knew form years upon years of treating animals, and more recently humans, that Beth was sick- and-

Daryl was sat with Tyresse, sharing smokes and sneaky whiskey in the guard tower. The man had just stopped fuming and the only one not afraid was Daryl, go figure. They shouted at one another to vent it all out, understanding that that was what a heart broken man needed. All the raging wasn't going to bring her back, but for the moment it was going to mask the excruciating pain he would feel at her absence.

They headed back, the moon was high and it was probably midnight from the silence of the cell block. Rick was on the stairs rubbing the back of his neck and

''people are getting sick. We're putting them in quarantine-'' Rick looked exhausted, mentally and physically drained. He had lost a lot of the group, anyone n cell block d were checking themselves for symptoms, anyone not near the bodies should be safer. But there are no guarantees.

''Who?'' Tyresse was petrified of hearing his sister's name, it was too soon to lose her too.

''Lizzie, Jeanette, David and Beth-'' before he could add that dr. S was with them, Daryl was gone. He ran down the hallways winding and panicked until he was at the heavy door to death row. All the beginning in the world would do no good, but he tried anyway. His knuckles felt like falling off and the abuse he hurled at the door did nothing to open it.

Feeling pathetic and useless he gave up, crumbling to the ground be the danger, be the first in when that door opened. He didn't care about the risk, he needed to see her. Across the wall form where he was, huddled in a blanket Maggie forced upon his, Herschel Greene was sat waiting also.

''You here for my daughter, Dixon?''

_**Please tell me what you thought! I'll PM back saying how great you are!**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**The word 'swamped' doesn't even cover my self-induced stress right now! I'm moving away from some of the shows lil' detail cause it's too much to have to fit in if I do, so read it as you don't know about all this stuff ;) special shout out to ' .that. .you' it was lovely speaking to you- everyone go shower her with love!**_

The flu had a distinctive set of symptoms. After two says Rick was positive enough in them to tell the entire group what to look out for. Firstly you started avoiding bright lights, this changed into a tension-like headache. Then the fatigue set it, one might convince themselves it was dehydration or too long in the Georgia sun without food. Sweat, coughing and then vomiting. The last stage was falling into a deep sleep, barely waking but to cough up blood and the pressure on your body to kill you. Then you died. And then you turned.

They had lost five more people, there were still 14 in isolation with Dr. S, only he had started coughing too. Rick told them this over a meeting of the remaining remember, urging them all to spend as much time outside as possible. Close confinement was killing them. The walkers might be what caused it, or they might not. But concrete confined space was the greater of two evils now.

Daryl was in the guard tower, agitation in his own lack of sleep. The last thing Glenn had told him before he was admitted to isolation himself was that if Daryl didn't rest he was going to be allowed to see Beth, but not in a good way. But her state was frightening him. No one knew what happened with her. When Rick last spoke to her she was fine, then Maggie saw her holding her head and described her as 'unusually irritable'- this led them all to believe she had the headache. But no one had heard coughing or vomiting, there were no signs none at all. Until she was in bed napping but wouldn't wake up. And she hadn't woken up since.

Somewhere in the distance searching for supplies Maggie, Michonne and Bob battled to save the others. He should be with them, they could be dying and it would be his fault, then why didn't he feel guilty? Because the guilt of Beth dying when he was away would kill him. It wasn't fair, she had just decided to grasp this life with two hands. Cruel irony.

Without her hear it was all dull again. His own mind pounded between thinking about her and what he would do without her. He had lived before her, well lived was a classy way of saying existed. The shitiness before the outbreak wasn't much of a life. He used to follow merle idly masking his emotions when the broke free with sex, drugs and booze- just like Merle did. Daryl see, Daryl do. Even after finding a place here there wasn't much to do but think about the dead, those who no longer suffered and continue fighting for survival. Fighting was all her knew. Then she fucking waltzed in and changed it all.

He hated her for changing his non-existing. For telling him the emotions aren't bad and that if you wear them on your sleeve like her at the very worst you'll get a bit bruised but keep struggling. His cigarettes were down- god, she hated him smoking said it'd kill him. He told her the dead would get him before cancer would and she had simply pursed her lips. Sitting here felt awkward, nothing to do anymore. He would spend a day on watch in secret silence with himself, chain smoking and aiming arrows long range toward the fence. All those times, all those hours she wasn't even present for- but simply knowing she wasn't somewhere cooking or looking after children made it feel like she was missing.

Daryl wasn't a kicked dog anymore. No, he was more than that- he had changed somewhere along the way. But he wasn't sure what he had changed into when she wasn't around. So he simply sat and waited for her to join him, and she would eventually.

Dark thoughts settle in at dark times. He turned to his left, instinctively looking where she would occasionally join him. It was empty and somehow the world seemed just a bit too big. She would voice her thoughts, take a look at his face and ask what was wrong. Maybe he wold tell her how scared of saying he was, how giving up wasn't an option because he came into this world battling monsters. And perhaps he'd say nothing, press his leg against hers a tiny bit harder. Sometimes voicing it isn't necessary when you know there's someone to listen. This hollowness- was this how Beth felt when she lost her mother? Is this what she meant by being lonely in losing a confidant? It must be, it simply must. She had been right, he smirked to hide the absurd desire to cry, it was unbearable. Maybe if he had lost her after 16 years together he'd try to kill himself too.

It seemed to hit him in a real moment, the possibility of Beth not making it, of him being like this for the rest of time. What if she died, what then?

Beth wanted to moan, everything was too hot but it was so so cold. Trying to move was tiring, it was too hard to try and move anywhere so she stayed sill floating in between her unconsciousness and her desire to be conscious. What was happening to her? Maybe the walkers got her- maybe she was dead. Only she didn't remember dying, but hey, maybe you don't remember how you go. Was she in heaven then? No his murky prison of isolation wasn't what she was told, alive then? Until the light or voice came she'd presume so.

The pain was only bearable because she had no choice but to take it. Everything prickled and ached, her head perhaps crowning the glory of excruciation. She wanted to whimper or scream or do anything at all, but nothing was coming but her own sweaty struggle. This could be the end, the big question of what happens after you die. Had she come back, is that why she was held back?

She thought of the people she had lost, her poor mother mostly- had she endured this pain too? She hoped not, if she had the only comfort could be that she was stabbed in the brain and that had to finish this pain. Oh god, what if that's why her head hurt what if this was it. Panic was rising bout not breathing wasn't really a capability. The world was cruel. Her mind thought to her daddy, to Daryl, to Maggie to poor poor baby Judith. Were they going to miss her- or was she some liability they've been waiting to go?

She knew she wasn't like her sister or Michonne, she bet however she went was equally pathetic as slapping yourself in the morning when you turn over because your arm is dead. She didn't feel she contributed enough to be missed. Once that had been some sort of relief, in those weeks she had been so certain this is what she wanted, that her superfluousness was the key to aiding her guilt. Now she wished she was a fighter so she wouldn't go. That she would be remembered, eighteen years couldn't just be blown out, right? But no she had wasted her life in being too soft, a background character and too quiet. No one was going to miss her, perhaps she should just stop fighting this.

Daryl came after watch to sit outside the door to death row. Rick had warned him against it but that wasn't likely to stop him. So instead he only took his pillow and blanket from his cell so he could stay there all night, like Hershel had advised him. He took his usual spot, the place he went whenever there wasn't a job to do. The new location was as grey as the last, but the walk provided a few moments of release for the pent up emotion.

''You care about my daughter?'' Herschel's voice jolted him, it sounded so different than the anger of weeks ago. There was concern here, and genuine care in this sick uniting cause. Herschel would rather swallow the discomfort of his baby with this broken man than have her dead.

''More than anything.'' Daryl's voice was hoarse, he hadn't eaten yet today, but no doubt Carol would come find him later to try and jar him out of this settling depression. He looked like a dead man, he felt like a dead man- but the thought of Beth still made emotion flare in his not yet dead chest. A yearning, a need burned deeper than his own self-pity.

''I'm going in, I'm the next with training and we can't just let them struggle.'' Only then did Daryl take Hershel in, the rolled up sleeves, smell of soap and mask ready around his neck to pull up. It was logical and couldn't be said to be unexpected due to his morality, but still the connection and respect Daryl had for this man outweighed the religious intent. But if Hershel didn't go in, Beth might die.

''Maggie ain't gonna be happy-'' he grunted looking up, playing his cards close to his chest. He was in inner conflict, wanting to say 'go in quickly and save her' and 'don't go' all at once.

''That's why I'm going now. I'm old Daryl, I'm running on extended time already- look after my daughters if I can't.'' Herschel smiled at the thought of his daughter, but this plague had already taken his youngest and his adopted son. He nodded at Daryl the weight of his gaze giving everything he had before the reality stepped in with the fear.

''You'll be able to, if not we're all here for 'em.'' It was a generic phrase, something that would suit so many of the families in this prison. It was a huge family and so they would all hold out for anyone left behind. But here it seemed so empty- not enough for the grandfather figure of them all. But Daryl wasn't good with words, and he hated how empty everything he could offer was going to be.

He didn't have to say he was going to try his best, that was his little girl in there after all. Herschel patted Daryl awkwardly on the shoulder, taking a breath to steel himself before facing the door. Daryl watched him walk in, knowing this was the last chance he had. The only reason Herschel would go in before Dr. S was useless would be because he was unwilling to give up on his baby.

Daryl waited outside still, more agitated than ever before.

Beth spluttered suddenly, being pulled into the pain as her body independently heaved. Burning heat grabbed her suddenly, making her want to yell out again.

Glenn saw Beth twitch, the first sign of any movement in her. She had been the first found to collapse but the longest clinging on, but it had stared. She had been his hope that the awful processes of death wouldn't necessarily happen to them all. She had been the exception. Her body coughed vibrant red blood trickling down the side of her pale lips. Knowing his job, he rolled her to her side so that she didn't choke on her own blood. Beth no longer counted as the odd one out.

_**Phew! So thanks guys, please review! xx**_


	5. Chapter 5

Herschel watched Glenn rub small circles on the sweaty blonde's back, he knew that Beth was finally breaking her streak of just sleeping. She coughed weakly, making a small moaning noise.

Beth's mind was reeling. Something told her that her body was in shut down mode, and for the first time the closeness to her death really panicked her. There was no control here, both times that she had held the knife herself she was able to stop and hold on the bleeding wrist. Walkers were a death sentence too, but no one had let her get close to them, except Daryl- but what danger was there was Daryl Dixon was around? Her heart fluttered at the thought of him, how it wasn't enough yet. She wanted to do so much more with him, hold him and make him believe that she was there forever.

He would care if she died. That much was obvious to the general population, after all no one else jumped at the chance to protect her and help her do anything. If she made it through this there was no way, none at all that she wouldn't say 'fuck you' to the prison and make their relationship work.

Beth's lungs and head seemed to fare better than the others. After another two days she was sat up out of delirium back to simply being sweaty and cold at the same time. The turn of the fever from fatality gave a renewed hope to the rest of the prison. Rumour soon spread that Hershel thought she was going to make it, fingers crossed. Somewhere the vaccinations needed to help out in the veterinary clinic of her fathers helped play a role, but also her extreme stubbornness in dealing with death.

Nearly losing your child twice in a short space, in a world where time is no more guaranteed, seemed to take its toll on Hershel, he kept giving all he had to give and a week later five of them were admitted back into the prison. Beth, Glenn, Lizzie, Sasha, Herschel. Fifteen others hadn't made it. Showers and food before more bed rest let family members and friends come in and say what they needed. The elderly man sat back in his own bed and shut his eyes. He knew somewhere Maggie was crying and hugging Glenn and her sister, and the redneck was already probably slipping into the cell of his brave star patient.

Daryl knocked lightly on the bar, not wanting to wake the needed rest of the sick. With a murmur of acknowledgment he stepped round the covering sheet of the cell, careful brushing back in place after him as he shuffled foot to foot awkwardly. He wasn't used to this type of conformation, or at least any in which the predominant action wasn't shouting loudly at the other conversationalist and trying to punch them. The bible was closed slowly, piercing Greene eyes watching unblinkingly as the shaky white hand placed the Lord's book on the small table next to the bed.

''What can I do for you, Daryl?'' Hershel looked over his nose at the one man he hadn't expected to see willingly in his cell.

''I- uh, permission? To see Beth-please?'' His voice was soft, growling slightly and his arm twitched. Herschel had seen some things in his day, but this was unexpected. Dixon taking the initiative to approach this as a confident man not just a flippant love interest of his daughter.

Perhaps it meant more knowing how Daryl had struggled to not break down the door to death row, how he had seen the hunter break down at the loss of Beth. The very idea of losing her, and his reaction to such a fate with resolute brokenness told Hershel he had been wrong about the intentions of this man. His daughter wasn't a puppet, she was the puppeteer behind the whole charade. The truth hurt in a way he didn't expect, having to accept your child was willing to throw it all away and maim themselves in away was tougher than forgiving them for being led astray. Daryl was innocent, at least of all thing but his ignorance of being led around like a prize bull by a slip of a girl.

''If you hurt her just once, I won't restrain Maggie.'' Herschel smiled at Daryl's shocked face, knowing the threat and implication of his words was hidden in plain sight. Daryl wasn't allowed space to fuck this up, and he could respect that. With a quick nod he turned and walked quickly out the cell. Herschel chucked to himself knowing how the seconds were most likely like bullets to Daryl's mounting anticipation.

In fact the moment of breaking his long awaited chance to see her was all but marred by his rush. Not knocking to enter her cell, Daryl Dixon walked into the solitude and softly lit warmth of Beth's cell to find her standing topless, a downy towel in one hand and droplets of her cold shower still clinging to her chest. Her red lips parted in a breathy gasp and he ran into the door frame in his rush to turn around and leave.

The red cheeks were nothing to the embarrassment of her now pulling him to her bed. Beth Greene flicked into her nurse mode, mothering him gently she lifted his gaze to check the already purpling lump on his forehead. But he couldn't find it in him to mind, let alone to move. The manly-man part of him struggled impossibly with the gentleman to keep his gaze in neutral location, with what choice there was. So he settled on her legs, not her chest. Her small pyjama-short clad legs, all long and mesmerising in creamy paleness- an expanse of open flesh he wanted to touch, just there he could- oh shit, eyes up. Oh fuck, eyes back down.

Her fingers graced his skin lightly, enough to make him wince at the light pressure and the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up from her proximity. Beth was here, Beth was alive. He sighed heavily at the thought, closing his eyes merely at the contentment he had. His heart finally seemed to slow down, the adrenaline more or less crashing. With his shoulders slumping she pushed him invitingly back, a move he was too weak to protest against. She tugged on a top as he lazily kicked off his boots so that he could edge across to the wall so she could join him.

Nothing on the earth could have prepared him for having her lithe little body pressed against him once again, he radiating warmth and general softness the physical equivalent of what her sile did to him. His mind was comprehending crying for some mad reason, and her need seemed no less desperate as small hands dug deftly into his shirt.

Once upon a time she had asked this man for help, not understandinf what it was she was going get from asking. In the same world he had agrred, not even thinking about the possibilities of her salvation making it all seem vaguely bearable. And then he checked out, and then she almost dies, what else was there to say? If it wasn't fate then her body wouldn't be the matching puzzle piece to his.

Here is ying, and here is yang. Here is the ying in the yang, and here is the yang in the ying.

Here is the redneck biker, and here is the god-fearing angel. Here is honour in the biker, and here is the depression in the angel.

Beth breathed, trying to find a way to voice the collection of locked away thoughts she needed him to know. It was all too fragile and precarious to not risk this in her life, and if she died now she was dying with all thoughts off her chest and no regrets at all. She lay down next to him, her head resting near his, her shoulders higher though from her petite frame. The feel of the worn sheets of her own bed were still alien and luxurious against her bare skin.

''It used to be a comfort to think I would die soon, that the pain could be over and nothingness would take me away. I wasn't afraid, I-I there was no fear in thinking about doing it, none at all-please, just listen-'' she held his hand lightly, her voice attached remotely in a way too practical for the topic matter. ''I was ready to go those months ago, and no one was going to understand that, no one but you-''

''I regret it, saying I'd help you- should've gone to Herschel and helped you to change your mind.'' Daryl struggled to keep his voice quiet and steady, his hands over his face in an outburst of emotion. How could she say this? Those months for him had been hell, getting so close to her to only know he was nearer to her being gone. The fighting with himself lying in bed and the weight of the guilt. Rick and Hershel had both lamented it enough, he hadn't handled the situation properly.

And this was the bit that hurt. More than the intense fear that wracked her bod thinking she was going to die, the pained expression on his face made her feel like she was clubbing baby seals for kicks. And here was no definitive this is for the best, but she could imagine that he would want to know, even if his brain had to take few days catching up.

''No,'' her voice was still soft, but urgent now as if she knew his thoughts, ''you _**did**_ change my mind. But not by babying me, it was my choice and _**you**_ gave that to me. I-did I ever say thank you? Well, thank you, Daryl. You made me feel like a person again, not some child they can control.''

As if to prove her point he felt her soft lips press against his shoulder, burning hot and full of the emotion she never told him about.

''You won't change your mind again?'' He was hoarse, fear totally gripping him in a way he wasn't used to experiencing. It was the bump on his head, it simply must be that. Her hand found his, entwining the fingers gently and squeezing to let him know she was here.

''I woke up some time a few days ago, convinced I wasn't going to make ti-'' she felt him tense his hand squeezing back so that her hand twitched in mild pain, ''-and I was so scared. I thought that was it and I knew I was different to the girl you left chocolate for.''

''I was scared too.'' The words didn't seem enough. Not for her. He wanted to tell her how he had barely eaten, paced back and forth for hours outside death row, everybody they brought out he double checked to make sure it wasn't her. He was in hell, those days of endless torture and agony at thinking the possible worst. She didn't know that, but she could in her own way read it in his face.

Soft butterfly kisses graced his cheeks. They were a matching pair for sore eyes, exhausted from the illness and holding back tears to be strong for the other. He felt her cold wet hair against his neck and cheeks, but it was some relief from the warm inside of the prison. He would take anything of her right now, even the unseasonal chill of dripping hair and lethargic movements.

Realising that she was the sick person here he moved across letting her curl up against his side and pulling the cheek over her, clumsily tucking her in though it wasn't something which he hadn't had much practice in. His lips hit her forehead just a tad too aggressively for her goodnight kiss, but the smile still lit up his insides like some fucking Christmas tree. He shuffled down to stare her in the face, resting an arm possessively over her hip so she couldn't slip away from him at any time.

After moments staring, the two closed their eyes, letting the fatigue of the whole events take over their bodies and gave into the close proximity of sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Dun-dun dah-dah dun-dun! Hope you enjoy, a lot of heart went into this guys XD_**

The moments like that can't last forever. Soon Daryl was slipping out of her bright embrace, choosing to sit on the edge of her cot. The morning light streamed through the wide windows outside her cell, and he smiled as he realised that was the reason she was so far away from the others. Golden light warmed her bare back, tanning it yellow, fading in with the hue of her fluffy dried hair. A huge part of him wanted to smile, but it was overshadowed by the pull of just staring at her sleeping face is total disbelief. Strictly speaking he told himself he was going to move after she fell asleep, but he had been warm and surprising craved the comfort offered by her unconscious gentility.

Eventually he left the cell, struggling to not back glance at her but worried what morning conversations would mean to their level of commitment. Yes, being gone was better. Undoubtedly she would figure out the enigma he was and call him out on it, but for now the realism of her wanting him was too much to take after 'she's alive'.

Now he was left cigarette at his lips to replace the feeling of her soft kisses, and back cold against the guard tower wall. Michonne was happy enough for the company, even if it was bad tempered Daryl, she preferred the silence anyway. He stretched uncomfortably, the lack of her making him both relaxed and agitated him horribly. After days of desperation at needing to know if she was alive, he couldn't figure out any motivation. So turning to an old favourite he decided giving space was best.

Beth woke up to find the space next to her empty, she wasn't surprised she missed him slipping out. The man was stealthy when he needed to be and she was practically dead to the word the second she fell asleep. Her small hand rested on his side of the mattress felling the cold emptiness and letting it tell her he was too far out of her reach to catch up. Sighing she stretched, pulling the sheet up to her bare chest and scanning the room for some clothes to pull on.

She was still doing her jeans up by the time she jogged out into the courtyard. The sunlight seemed ridiculously bright and blinding to sensitive eyes, her arm moved to shield the most of it, but still she squinted. A few shapes of unnameable humans wandering around doing odd jobs, all slow with the strain. Her feet kept moving to the noises of people, hoping to ask them where Daryl might be. She found herself adjusted the light to only stumble upon the edge of the field now filled with the fresh graves of the sick and dead.

Her stomach dropped, and the reality of her trivial worries seemed almost laughable in their egocentrism. Taking a few unsure steps back she bumped into the strong build of Tyresse. His face was set in a stony contemplation.

''Heard you kept the hope alive. Strange, a little thing like you survived when they didn't.'' His voice was low, full of hurt. And despite the abrupt familiarity he was talking to her she felt no amount of cruelty in his voice, just sorrow.

''I'm sorry about the loss of Karen,'' she took his big, blistered hands and gave them a small squeeze. ''She was a lovely person, and be thankful she's not one of them now. Grieve and pray, that's what daddy told me, but if you need to talk by all means my shoulder is yours.'' She gave him a sad little smile, her own eyes filled with tears for those she had lost in her young life. He could see his own pain reflected in her wide wet eyes, the way her breathing hitched as she looked back over her shoulder at the brown earthy mounds.

Tyresse pulled her into a tight hug, sadly wanting to sob at the gentle firmness with which she held him back. He had been angry, furious in fact for days on end, simply digging for those he once knew to displace the hard emotion he was feeling. Deep down walking into the woods and screaming was all he wanted, not listen to how a little blonde weak thing managed to defend herself when his strong Karen couldn't. But sickness wasn't like battling walkers, if it were the roles would be reversed. But **_she_** was alive. And when she walked back into him, he wanted to cry and tell her to swap places, not wanting to hear another stupid ''she's in a better place'' because Karen may be in a better place but he was fucking left behind. But Beth, as so many say but everyone forgets, was honest about it. And her genuine sadness at the losses made her more human than anyone else he knew. Perhaps being human was weak, but he needed that right now.

They broke their embrace, finishing the moment of twinned emotion to simply nod and walk away from each other. Because that's how the world works now, you take what you need from people and move on. We all have a job to do, Bethy. As she walked back to the prison, not wanting to be out in the presence of death by graves or moaning walkers anymore, she saw a few tired members of the group. She shrugged off their enthusiastic smiles and comments, plastering on the niceties and saying 'thank you' for their empty prayers. Every time asking after Daryl, learning he was out hunting, she made a small joke and wandered off.

The prison was cool inside, the concrete letting the shade dominate the space seemed empty but vast. How would she have felt if she was trapped here for life? Already an affective depressing cage for their own safety, she imagined if a better alternative was out there, like a pre-apocalyptic world, she might simply go insane. Only that worry wasn't paramount to her, would never have to be, because that world was gone.

Back in the small comfort of her cell, Beth pulled the curtain down deciding it would be nice to have a few hours alone. The far corner of her cot let her press herself into the unyielding concrete walls, trying to dissolve herself into a ghost of sorts to be unbound from her humanity.

And there it was, the shaking feeling of numbness being taken away and pushing her in with the lions in the arena. Nausea and tears nothing to do with the flu overtook her small body, but still fighting with determined composure she began muttering small tunes. **_If I were a butterfly, I'd thank you lord for giving me wings. _**Perhaps now she could just get some rest and fly away to forget the burned images of the graves. Or the thoughts running so quickly through her head.

They had buried her mother and Shawn near Otis, what was left of their cold murderous bodies and the destroyed face of the woman who taught her bible hymns. **_And if I were a robin in a tree, I'd thank you lord that I could sing. _**'Everything better after a song and dance, come on I made a pineapple upside-down cake and I'm sure Patricia won't mind you having a slice before book club.'She let the soft words of her mother wash over her, anything at all she could remember. 'He's just a boy, Bethy, not worth your tears', she sniffed at the superficially tantrum she threw when Mark Redford hadn't asked her to prom. Her mother was right then too, because Jimmy had asked her shyly only days before and that was the night she stopped over-looking him and they became an awkward couple. Oh God, Jimmy.

The thought of his poor, poor kindness being eaten by one of those awful things and wandering around now. The dreams he never got to achieve. She could remember him crying on her shoulder when his parents became sick, how he did the same for her when it was Shane and Annette. The silly whispers they shared about the army and the cure, how long would it be until they came? The simple, but pleasant pecks of affection on her cheeks and the chance of what they might have been given more time to be. Three months wasn't enough to fall in love, but perhaps with time she might have learnt to love him. Either way, he wouldn't be here now and she simply wanted to see him as the bashful suited joker that he had been back then. Perhaps that would be normal.

But what about all the others who didn't get that kind of ceremony the shell of a person. The ones who had no one left to think about their dreams and their hopes. You can't look at a walker, and see their driving force how they were the self-acclaimed best hairdresser in South Atlanta or wanted more for their child than they could give.**_ And if I were a fish in the sea, I'd wiggle my tail and I'd giggle with glee. _**She hoped that didn't plague them now, and that somehow the undead knew that she cared still even though it crippled her inside. And she wanted the freedom to get away from her problems, to swim to Atlantis and forget walkers and death and pain- but not at the cost of becoming a living walker.

They were given so many promises, everyone was and now only a handful of the people were left but nothing was fulfilled. She was meant to be protected, she was meant to be happy. No one seemed to remember that but her. It was just an illness, why did it turn out this way? She forgot how normal it is to let the fear and disappointment wash over you, to comply with it and bend to it like noting is really wrong. Because you're alive. But it's not living anymore. And now she was crying and the feeling of the agonising wishes made her feel like being again.

Emotion was painful, but giving in to numbness made you a monster.

**_But I just thank you Father for making me me. _**

Her hands itched to move to the long ago neglected diary. To write down the thoughts to think them over in a calmer state and rationalise them. But somehow that seemed harder, forcing herself to vocalise what she was thinking and never wanting to read that again. She was strong, she didn't need Daryl and she didn't need a book of silly emotions. Time to grow up and get over it all. People died every day and she was still selfish enough to think her loved ones were majorly more important than them.

Come on, Beth, think about things that are going right.

Shaking her head, loose tears dropped onto her arms. Her nose prickling with the onslaught of hiccupping gasps and eyes burning with the pain. But nothing compared to how heavy her head felt right then. And she thought of Jimmy, and then of Daryl. **_Cause you gave me a heart. _**Because he would tell her to man up teasingly and then panic and hold her, perhaps that's what she lacked right now. None to hold her together so she just unravelled into the dark box labelled 'don't open yet' in her mind. Her lips kept muttering, ignoring the thickness of her throat.

So she had Daryl. And her sister and her daddy. She had a whole new family of people she never would have known before to love and cherish. She was safe. Food, water, shelter. All perhaps once as trivial and common to her as dimes- but they were invaluable. **_And you gave me a smile. _**She thought of what people did for her. Rick's garden and her father tender treating of the sickness. Glenn being over protective, and Maggie being even more so.

Then she looked back again at what she learnt from her mother, what advice she would have given. **_You gave me Jesus and you made me your child. _**Smirking she hide a sobbing giggle at the beauty of Herschel Greene a moderate Christian taking up the strong faith when the world went to shit, and how much more deeply it was being enforced by him. Annette was the strong Christian, the one who insisted that the do things by the good book and that Beth should sing in the choir whilst Maggie helped with the Sunday school. In a way she saw her mother in every piece of advice, the calm reasonable attitude of her being absorbed by him after her death so she was still around.

She knew her father had that admiration for her mother still. And that her mother would likely have taken up sneaky sips of whiskey to honour him, had it been the other way round. But she would tell her to seize the opportunities that she had. Crying time was over, and she decided she was tired of believing emotion to be weak. She was stronger than anyone else for getting through this shit and still giving a damn. So no more time was going to be wasted. Carpe diem, and all that.

Tearing the sheets back and unwrapping herself from the tangle of broken promises, she ran out her room. Bare feel slapping on the concrete floor and heart hammering in her chest, she barely had time to brush the tears from her pink face before walking plainly into the cafeteria where everyone sat. Maggie was there with Glenn looking at her, puzzled, her father was still out picking wild herbs with Michonne and Rick was bouncing baby Judith on his knee. Her eyes brushed over everyone, waiting to find him. Bingo!

He stood up when he saw her, the wild look of fear and sadness on her face that betrayed any attempt of covering it up. Beth Greene had stopped lying about things being ok, and he hadn't been them to help her deal normally. Although feeling guilty he stood up, determined to sort this out for her and try to be the kind of person she wanted and deserved.

But Beth Greene simply skipped over and leant up to him, catching him unguarded in a heated kiss. He could practically feel the eyes of everyone boring into his back and his mind recreated their goldfish mouths to entertain him after they all kicked the shit out of him. Their relationship that everyone had speculated over and argued about was now very much in concrete, and he couldn't move enough away to run.

He stepped back, mind totally reeling and face flashing red. Maggie and Glenn had both loudly stood up, but Daryl was sure that a currently absent Hershel would have remained in his seat averting his eyes to his youngest daughter's public display of affection and focused on his squirrel instead. Rick too looked uncomfortable with the affair and Tyresse was the only one who walked over patted Daryl on the back and said:

''Don't go hurting her, Dixon. And don't go letting him off easy, Greene.''

Beth smiled and sat down, letting Daryl slowly work his way back to his dinner and take a few bewildered mouthfuls. The rest of the place had gone back to innocent conversations about fences or hating squirrel, whilst the loud clangs of cutlery refilled the room. In that moment Daryl felt part of a community, he was living in a place that would talk shit bout him behind his back not to it, and that was an improvement. And then it hit him that bar the storming out of the Rhee's (one violently, and one apologising and slipping out to placate) no one had anything serious to say.

He and Beth could work. A smile worked its way to his face. Then there was a bang, a loud noise which made them all file out worryingly.

And the Governor was here, and he had Hershel and Michonne.

**_I know the song choice is a bit out of place, but it's like my go-to hymn from my childhood so I thought it could be Beth's too. It's a very upbeat song and so the kinda innocent vibe makes me sad… anyway tell me what you thought xxx_**


End file.
