A/N: So I admit this is a little outta my element since I usually write Eric & Sookie SVM/TB stories, but my muse pretty much does whatever the hell she wants, and I want to keep her happy so... Also, this'll be different maybe for the fandom, but not for me since it's first person POV. Haven't run into a lot of those on my reading travels.

That being said, enjoy!

"Ain't ya a lil' old to be playin' Truth or Dare?"

The long, black-haired man spit out gruffly at me from his tensed stance, slumped down on the bar stool all the way away from everyone else, in the corner against the bar.

I blushed furiously in response, not only because of his half-hearted admonishment or because maybe I was a little old for what was usually a slumber party game, but because no one had ever told me I was too old for anything before this moment.

Me, lil' Bethy Greene, too old.

Most women may not have appreciated being characterized that way but me?

I liked it, possibly loved it.

It felt like a weird rite of passage, like maybe I'd finally made the voyage from adolescence to adulthood. Which was silly since I was already legally an adult, lived all by my lonesome, and could drink without needing a fake ID and everything. But I'd always just felt like the eponymous big girl – you're a big girl now – not a woman. Like I'd gotten stuck somewhere between being a kid and being a grown-up. Don't get me wrong – it's not that I thought this man had dragged me across some invisible line between the two, I just enjoyed the notion that maybe I'd crossed over it without noticing.

"Ain't got time for this drunk-ass, college chick bullshit."

The same surly man growled, pulling my thoughts with a snap back to reality.

I couldn't help but notice that his eyes were fixated on the domestic beer curled into his calloused hand or that he was thumbing almost nervously at the top of the torn label.

Before I could open my mouth to respond or protest, more like it – I wasn't in college and I definitely wasn't some drunk-ass chick – he was off his seat in seconds, his half-full bottle abandoned on the lacquered wood before he slammed down a few crumpled up bills on the bar beside it and stomped past me.

"Hey!"

I called out after him – slightly offended by his dismissal.

If he'd even heard me, I couldn't be sure. But he continued to thrust his way through the cacophonous crowd, weaving his way in and outta the sea of gyrating people who'd taken up residence on the small dance floor. He moved at such a fast clip I couldn't help but wonder if somehow I had offended him.

But how?

All I'd done was ask him to help me out with a silly dare my friends had challenged me with.

"Just please help me out," I'd pleaded with him, "They said if I dun get ya to buy me a drink, I gotta answer a Truth."

"An' tha's a bad thing?"

He'd asked skeptically, eyeing me through his unkempt dark locks.

"Pretty much the worse thing in the world…"

I'd whispered back, not even sure if he could even hear me.

Then he'd gotten short with me. I still couldn't see what could've bothered him so much, didn't know what I'd done to set him off. Oh well. Couldn't spend my whole night dissecting the last three minutes, I told myself.

Even though I figured I probably would.

Shoulders slumped in defeat, my blonde ponytail swinging behind me, I trudged my way back to the booth I'd come from to meet my fate – the man's gravelly tone still lingering in my ears, hanging over me like a smoke-filled cloud. Had he smelled like cigarettes or had I just imagined it? I shook the thought from my mind. It didn't really matter now, I'd probably never even see him again. This was my first, and possibly last, night hanging out at this particular haunt.

It was too loud for my taste.

What was the point of being out with your friends if you could barely hear them?

I slipped down dejectedly onto the torn vinyl seat next to Zach, averting my gaze to my hands. I instantly began wringing them in my lap – the slight pain bringing me the smallest bit of respite. I was sadly more than aware what was coming next. Hell, it was why I'd chosen Dare in the first place. I'd never really been a Dare kind of girl, but I certainly wasn't ready to give up this Truth – my past still weighing on me like an itchy wool blanket.

Cutting at me randomly like forgotten shards of broken glass.

Can't outrun your demons, I thought to myself coldly.

"So spill, Greene. What's with that damn cuff you always wear on your wrist? It isn't like it's fashionable or some shit like that. This ain't the fuckin' 90s."

Amy slurred out drunkenly, her sloshing martini glass waving along with the clipped cadence of her harsh words – drenching the edge of the table, along with her lap.

I cringed internally – fingering anxiously at the cuff in question, my comfort-blanket of sorts – knowing it was just a stupid game and that I didn't really have to answer her altogether too probing Truth. But I felt beholden to the silly rules all the same – after all, I had failed to complete my Dare – thinking of words my daddy had said before he died about always being a woman of my word, fulfilling my promises.

Did doing the honorable thing mean sometimes I'd have to suffer for it?

I guessed so.

I heaved in an uneasy breath, my nerves suddenly sparking with fire, the sensation telling me I needed to run far far away. I opened my mouth, my lips quivering as I bit back tears, readying myself to unearth the darkness that still at times gripped me – although not as tightly as it once had.

BAM!

I nearly jumped outta my skin as a glass beer bottle practically collided with the varnished tabletop, rattling slightly before it settled in front of me.

"There! Now she ain't gotta answer none of yer damn questions."

I tore my glistening blue eyes from my lap, snapping my head up to peer at the gruff, surly man who'd surprisingly come to my rescue after practically running from me minutes earlier. His blue-green eyes searched mine for something before flitting about my trembling form with concern laden on his face. When he thrust out an inviting, albeit sooty-looking hand, I took it without hesitation – the contact producing an unexpected jolt of static electricity. I swung the strap of my satchel purse over my shoulder, wavering slightly from the adrenaline still coursing through my veins, feeling as if I had barely escaped the exchange with my life.

Panic attacks had become an unavoidable part of my reality in the last couple of years.

I knew I'd been on the verge of one.

I scooted my butt outta the booth, grabbing the slung beverage as I settled to my feet, being tugged by the brooding man to God knows where as my friends' expressions turned from impish to shell-shocked. I gulped down a slug or maybe two of the cold brew as my body got bumped unceremoniously by drunken louts – simultaneously raising my hackles and my anxiety. He bustled us through the crowd, but I quickly realized we weren't heading to the bar like I'd assumed. We were going towards the exit. I stifled the urge to rip my hand from his as my stomach flip-flopped, choosing to down the rest of the proffered drink instead – but my doubts creeped in all the same.

What was wrong with me? I didn't even know this guy's name.

Why was I letting him lead me anywhere, let alone outside – away from potential witnesses?

"Hey!"

I yelled at him, trying to be louder than the din, but he didn't even turn his head.

As we neared the door that would lead us out to the parking lot, I tugged at him, hoping to finally grab his attention. I regretted it almost instantly as he dropped his warm hand from mine, refusing to turn around as he continued his apparent quest to be outside. I stilled for a moment, watching him violently push open the wooden door – it slamming hard against the stopper on the other side – feeling almost frozen in place as it swung back on its curved path and closed with a vibrating bang.

Everything had gone sideways so quickly.

I bounded out into the night after him, caring little about the raindrops pelting down onto my form, as I spied him somehow already off in the distance ambling towards a beat-up, red pickup truck that had definitely seen better days. The cold wind whipped through me, making me regret wearing a thin cotton top, and I shivered with each quickening step I took away from the heat of the obnoxious bar – my feet propelling me towards him almost outside of my volition.

My gait switched from a hurried walk to a jog as I watched him throw open the truck's door – the metal bracket noisily groaning its protest – before slipping inside.

"Stop!"

I insisted forcefully when dizziness began to cascade through me, my hands falling to my thighs as I slumped over – asthma overtaking my ability to breathe normally and with ease.

My breath came out in rasps as I struggled to regain my composure, steady my wildly beating heart and painfully twitching lungs. "Dammit!" I huffed out, remembering I'd stupidly forgotten to move my inhaler when I'd swapped purses for the night. C'mon, Beth, you know better than that! I shook violently as the cold rain started to soak through my clothes, making it practically impossible to pull myself out of the attack naturally. Not even seconds later, I sank to the ground – the asphalt biting my skin even through my jeans – too light-headed to fight the overwhelming impulse to crumple like a sheet.

Why the hell hadn't Zach or Amy or Noah come after me?

Some friends they are, I thought bitterly.

A rough hand clasped at my shoulder out of the blue and I cried out, not from pain but from fear. I whipped my head upwards to lay tear-filled eyes on whoever had happened upon me. Involuntarily, I let a startled, shaky gasp escape through my chapping lips.

It was him, water dripping down his face, standing right in front of me.

Coming once again to my rescue.

"Ya gotta hold it in for a couple secs," he stated softly as he sat down in front of me, his hand traveling down from my shoulder to lay flat against the expanse of my back, "Yer breath, I mean, if ya wanna get control of it."

"Thanks… but… ya… don't… gotta… do… this…"

I managed to bite out through gritted teeth, my diaphragm still convulsing and angry – clearly not cooperating with my attempts to still it.

"Dun gotta do a lotta things," he muttered, his stilled hand suddenly moving to draw open-palmed circles on my clothed but wet, goose-pimpled back, " 'm Daryl. Daryl Dixon."

He spit out his last name like it was a curse, like it should've meant something to me. Was I supposed to know who he was? Was his family famous or something?

Because I'd really never heard the name before.

"Beth… I'm Beth Greene."

I replied minutes later, introducing myself in kind – panting only minutely.

His ministrations coupled with deep inhales and exhales had quieted my burgeoning asthmatic attack. I was more grateful than I'd ever be able to express using words. So I removed my hands from the death grip they had found on my thighs to wrap them around Daryl's prone build, hugging him tightly against my damp, shaking form. I felt him stiffen in my embrace, but his shape-drawing hands never stopped – the circles becoming more pressured, increasingly possessive feeling.

Like he never wanted to let me go.

The feeling was mutual.

The dim parking lot lights flickered as lightning tore through the sky and thunder roared. I jumped as the sound echoed through the night. He chuckled lightly before grasping me tighter to whisper in my ear, "Better get movin', Princess. Storm's rollin' in." As if his words had opened some floodgate, the rain began to beat down harder around us. His arms dropped so I let mine do the same before pushing myself off the puddled ground to my feet. Daryl handed me my sopping purse, a strange frown twisting in his features, and then shoved his hands into his pockets. Without warning, he practically sprinted between the raindrops towards his red pickup.

This time I couldn't even find it within me to be surprised.

He was the most perplexing man I'd ever met – an enigma for sure.

"DARYL!"

I yelled after him, the rain now coming down in unforgiving sheets, clacking and thrashing against the ground at an almost deafening volume.

"DARYL!"

I screamed again when he didn't stop, throwing my arms into the air in frustration.

I stifled the urge to run after him again – I'd only just gotten my breath back.

When he climbed into the cab, slamming the door behind him, I turned away and started to march myself back towards the bar, feeling off-kilter but resolute. Whatever moment we'd shared was over, and I needed to get over it as well. I was soaked to the bone, without a car, and the proud new owner of a water-logged cell phone. So I had to get back to my friends, even though I was probably applying the term a little too loosely, because I needed a ride home. I sighed, the slump in my shoulders mirroring my emotional state. It was barely ten I figured, but it'd already been a long night.

I stopped in my tracks as I heard a vehicle pulling up on my left – irritated I was having to wait for them considering I was the one being pelted by rain.

"Dammit, Beth! Ya think I's jus' gonna leave ya out here in the rain? That how lil' ya think of me?! I ain't nothing like Merle!"

Daryl shouted angrily through his rolled-down passenger-side window.

Who?

I thought, feeling slightly dumbfounded – who was Merle?

"Ya gettin' in or not, Princess?" Daryl clipped out, his hands white-knuckling the faded steering wheel, "Ain't gonna hurt ya or nothin'. 'm not like that…"

He added lowly, more tentatively – his tone rich with sadness – like it hurt him that maybe some people thought he was.

"I know you're not, Daryl," I said, smiling at him as I climbed inside the cab – thankful he had the heat on full-blast, "You're a good man, I can tell."

He snorted his disagreement, shrugging off the compliment, but I knew I was right.

I could practically see the good in him, and I hoped that for his sake maybe one day he'd see it too.

After I told Daryl which direction to head, he pulled out of the parking lot. Not wasting any time, I started to fiddle with the air vents in front of me. I was shivering something fierce, the icy chill from wearing sopping wet clothes clinging to me like a second skin, and I wanted to get as much heat into my attire as possible. But the effort felt futile.

"Ain't gonna do much good," Daryl mumbled – confirming my unspoken suspicions – glancing back and forth between me and the road, "Gotta strip those wet clothes off soon 's possible…"

"Ya trying to get me naked, Mr. Dixon?"

I teased – feelings the effects of the beer I'd chugged for the first time – secretly loving the blush that creeped up his neck all the way to the tips of his ears in response.

"How old're you anyways, girl?"

He asked crossly – his eyes now fixed solely on the road – inexplicable indignation rife in his tone, as any and all mirth drained from his expression with a fresh scowl settling in its wake.

His embarrassment may have made him mad, but his barb made me madder than him – for sure.

He'd struck a raw nerve, and I reacted in kind.

"What's it matter?! Not like I'm jailbait or something," I sniped back, rethinking my retort as he blushed an even more furious shade of red and the steering wheel bore the brunt of his anger, "I'm twenty-two, Daryl. Twenty-two. And I'm not a girl," I said, spitting out his earlier dig like it'd been poison – not caring whether it had been inadvertent or intentional, "Wo-man. I'm a woman!"

Whether I was trying to remind Daryl or myself, I wasn't sure, but I felt like I was a two-year old throwing a temper tantrum.

Lil' Bethy Greene – maybe that's all I was ever gonna be.

Even though I tried to will them to stop, tears began to slip from my eyes, painting my drying cheeks with salty liquid. Already cold, my nose began to run instantly, my sniffling coming in right behind it. I'd gone from a mess to a hot mess in two seconds flat. It wasn't just what he'd said, it was everything hitting me all at once. The game, my cuff, the asthma attack... The night had taken its toll on me, and I was just dog-tired. Ready to climb in bed, submit to a fitful sleep, and force the world to give me a new day.

Maybe that one would go a lot better than today had.

Several seconds passed, the silence hanging in the small space between like a stale smoke cloud.

"Shit, Beth, s'rry. I jus'… 'm not… lot old'r than ya… 'm such a fuckin' jackass…"

"Don't worry about it," I said dismissively, drawing my damp, shivering legs into my chest – the seat was already drenched through, it wasn't like it'd hurt anything, "Apartment complex's just one street over from here. Turn left at the light and then take the first entrance."

He grunted his reply, engaging the blinker before moving into the turn lane.

His thumbnail had taken up residence in the corner of his mouth, being chewed on almost thoughtlessly – like he didn't know he was doing it. The sight tugged at my heartstrings, threatening to melt the ice wall I'd thrown up between us – the same one that usually housed my heart. I knew he hadn't deserved to battle against my demons – the ones I'd hurled at him – just like I hadn't deserved to battle his.

Looking him over, I wondered if we were pretty much the same.

Both maybe a little bit broken.

"This's the one," I indicated with a pointing gesture as the car crawled through the parking lot, past the many brick buildings, "Just park right here, please."

The truck lurched slightly as it came to a full stop, the rain barely audible against the top. It looked like the swell of the storm had mostly passed over us during the short drive. I slipped my legs down, shivering as I lost some of the warmth I'd gained by pressing my legs against my chest. Daryl continued to stare forward, not giving any indication he was cold.

But I knew he had to be.

He was just as soaked as I was.

It's now or never. Truth or Dare, Beth – I said in my head – Can't outrun your demons forever. Plus, you know there's lots of things worse than telling the truth.

I hated to admit it, but that last thing was altogether too true.

Then again, I'd made myself a promise to always pick Dare, and I never broke my promises.

"I dunno know who Merle is," I offered calmly as I gathered my purse into my lap, trying to explain all the things I had trouble finding words for, "And I've never heard anything about anyone named Dixon. I ain't in college and I definitely don't run around getting drunk in bars. It was a stupid game my friends and I were playing, and you were right, I prolly am a little too old for Truth or Dare…"

"Beth," Daryl interrupted me – finally looking over at me – his grip on the wheel noticeably loose, but his tone just as sharp as it'd been a couple of times before, "what's yer point?"

His eyes widened to saucers as I closed the small space between us and cupped his face, my lips meeting his for a brief moment – a frustratingly chaste kiss that still managed to set off fireworks through my form. But I knew neither of us was ready for anything more. I pressed my forehead against his after our lips broke apart, speaking quickly – resolutely – before he could brook any argument, try to turn all this upside down again.

"Don't EVER let anyone ever tell ya you're not a good person, Daryl Dixon – a good man," the deep blush had returned – I could practically feel the heat of it dancing across my fingers – thankfully, he kept his mouth pursed shut," Ya are. Yeah, ya got some sharp edges and a mean bite behind your words when you wanna, but ya are NOT your demons. And ya can huff and puff about it all ya like but it won't change the fact that I'm right."

"Get yer sopping wet ass outta my truck, Princess."

It was the only thing he said in response.

My heart went into free-fall, plummeting what felt like twelve floors.

With lightning speed, I dropped my hands and scooted away from him so quickly I hit my back against the door. Scrambling around, I threw open the door and ran from the vehicle like it'd been set on fire. With every step, my asthma threatened to grip me tight, but somehow I managed to keep it at bay. My limbs were heavy, clothes still coated in rain, so my long legs had barely gotten me to the stairs leading up to my second-floor apartment when I heard a familiar, gravelly voice yell.

"BETH!"

My hand gripped the railing as I toyed with the idea of blatantly ignoring him, wondering if maybe that's what he'd been doing every time I'd called after him. But I had to admit, the fact he'd shouted my name at all had bloomed the smallest bit of hope in my belly. All night, I'd been questioning off and on my desire to be near this frustrating man – this stranger – who could make me feel so crazy and sane all at the same time. But now I knew the truth.

I liked Daryl Dixon, and how he made me feel.

It was just as simple as that.

Slowly, I started to climb the steps – my pride overtaking my heart – remembering how he'd unceremoniously kicked me outta his truck. Whether or not I liked him didn't matter if he didn't actually like me. Why I'd made him hollering out my name to be some grand gesture in my head I'd never know, but I wasn't gonna worry on it too much. The moment was over, and I needed to be over it too.

"Beth?"

Daryl asked cautiously – quietly – from a distance that could only be a couple feet away.

"Beth, please," he continued to plead – his cracking voice cracking my resolve – and I froze in place, turning to look down at him," 'm tryin'… jus' gotta give me some time. Didn' mean fer it to come out like tha'. Its jus' yer cold, I know yer cold 'cause I 'm too. Didn't want ya to be freezin' yer ass off 'cause of wastin' yer time with me."

He was rambling now, I could hear it, letting himself spin outta control.

"Stop."

It's all I said before I descended the few stairs between us and laced my fingers into his.

Although his face was awash with confusion, he trailed behind me at my nonverbal request, his hand twitching beneath mine. Reaching the landing, I dug into my purse, nonplussed to discover it was full of water – just like I'd expected – and fished my keys out to unlock my door. He hesitated at the threshold after I crossed, planting his feet firm, as if he was in danger of breaching some forbidden barrier.

"Nothing like that, Daryl." I reassured him, not wanting to give him the wrong impression, "We're just gonna get warm. I've got some of my brother's – Shawn's – clothes here from the last time he stayed over. I think they'll fit ya."

It was enough to convince him, so he stepped across the separation between the outside world and my inner sanctum. I hated to admit it, but he kinda was breaching a forbidden barrier, one I hadn't let anyone near in ages. Because even if he hadn't fully recognized it, that was the moment I symbolically invited Daryl Dixon not only into my home, but into my life.

And if anyone ever asked me, I knew I'd have no problem confessing it was the Truth.

A/N: Thanks for reading, and many thanks to my beta Mrskroy. She doesn't watch Walking Dead, but she was wildly supportive all the same. Also shout-outs to all the great Bethyl authors whose fics I devour greedily – my faves list is getting pretty long by now. This is just a dabble for me before I head back to SMV/TB, you guys keep the Beth and Daryl ship alive! Thank you for that from the bottom of my shipper heart.