It started off with thermos of tea and very few words.

Winter at the prison could be rough. Days were sometimes very mild but nights got cold. There were only four days until Christmas, by Beth's estimate. That day had gotten to 72 degrees the night had fallen to the low 40s. Poor Judith caught the sniffles from the constant temperature extremes between day and night and had been sick for almost five days. She'd cared for Judith through it all, though, keeping her close, sharing her body heat to keep her warm enough at night. Rick was in no shape to do it. Not only was he busy dealing with the Governor and other threats he was trying to keep food coming in for everybody and formula for his baby girl.

Daryl had stayed close, stopping in to make sure Judith had a bottle and all the medicines she may need, keeping Beth from having to get up with her in the middle of the night. Formula for the baby wasn't all he'd brought. He'd made sure Beth had things, too, like a Thermos full of hot tea for when Beth needed to warm up inside, and also needed some caffeine to stay alert in the night when Judith went into one of her crying fits.

"You'd make a really good mom," he said softly one night, before turning and leaving her alone with Judith.

When the baby started screaming at three a.m., Daryl had come in to walk her up and down the corridor so Beth could warm the bottle. She'd hushed in his arms and finally settled down as he fed her.

"You'd make a really good dad," she told him.

"Nah," he disagreed.

"Yeah," she countered, smiling at him, making him look at Judith as though he'd never considered the fact he could be someone's father, much less be good at it. He handed Judith over and Beth went back to bed with her.

When Judith got well things began to settle down. Carol took her for a few nights to give Beth privacy and then Rick began to stop by for her every evening, leaving Beth to have her nights alone. Only she wasn't always alone.

Daryl brought her drinks and would stand in the corner, sipping whatever he'd brought. Tonight it was straight black coffee. Beth has never liked that before. She'd always needed cream or sugar, neither of which she had now, so she'd learned to like it black and plain.

"One day there won't be no more tea or coffee."

Daryl shook his head. "Nah. People will grow it again."

Beth scooted over, patting the bed beside her. Daryl hesitated.

"What? You don't have to stand."

"Somebody might get the wrong idea," he said. He drained his cup and nodded at her. "Write in your journal then get some sleep. Don't stay up too late."

But it continued. Daryl would stop by, sometimes with a drink, sometimes with candy or stale chips, or whatever interesting thing he'd found. She told him he could visit even if he didn't have anything but himself for company.

"Just me?" Daryl asked. He looked genuinely confused.

"Of course! I like you more than the stuff you bring."

He shook his head and left, like he couldn't quite believe she'd like him around unless he had something to offer besides his company alone.

"You're good company, even if you don't talk a lot."

"I like to listen to you," he said.

She cooked her head to the side. "Why?"

He just shrugged and made a noise that sounded like 'I don't know.' Beth thought maybe he was just too shy to speak up, to open up. She didn't pressure him to, ever. She was afraid he'd stop coming by.

Maggie was curious as to what was going on with Daryl.

"Why's he at your cell every night?"

"Not for nothing dirty," Beth said defensively. "And I'm not a baby I can be friends with whoever I want to be."

"I wasn't accusing y'all of that. Just wonderin'," said Maggie holding her hands up and trying to keep Beth from getting mad. "And I know you ain't a baby no more."

Beth pretended to be surprised. "You're gonna let me grow up?"

Maggie laughed with her. "Gotta happen sometime."

"Maggie? What if I did like Daryl?"

"Do ya?"

"Ain't saying that. Just wondering. What if I liked him and he liked me?"

Maggie looked at Daryl working on his brother's ugly motorcycle and just shrugged. "You're could do worse at the end of the world than an angry redneck with a heart of gold."

I've published the next two chapter so there's more to read but the story isn't done yet. I'm still working on it.