Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead; I am just very obsessed and would love to share my ideas and fan-girling with everyone! Thank you, Robert Kirkman for creating such an awesome tale.

Note: This is a one-shot kind of deal. It is very short and to the point. I am in the process of creating a longer story with a complex plot. This story in particular takes place after Beth and Daryl's fight, and they are looking for a place to stay, considering they burned theirs down. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

. . .

She could still feel the heat on her face from the flames of the cabin. They had been walking for what seemed like hours before Daryl stopped her in her tracks, crossbow ready to fire. She took her knife out of its sheath and prepared for a fight. When nothing happened and they heard no sound, she sheathed her knife and Daryl lowered his crossbow.

"Must 'ah been a squirrel or somethin'" Beth said quietly. Daryl gave her a little nod and motioned for her to keep following him. She was so close to him she could feel the heat radiating from his back. She had been shivering for a while, and her head started to hurt. She stepped closer to Daryl and wrapped her arms around her chest.

"I see a clearing" Daryl whispered. "There's pro'lly ah' main road ahead. When we get there we should look for a place to—," he stopped to look at Beth. "You listenin'?" Beth's head shot up to look at him. She had zoned off thinking about food and warm clothes.

She shook her head. "Yeah, sorry. I was jus' zonin' off for a bit there, sorry." She held herself tighter, and Daryl gave her a quizzical look. She noticed and shook her head again. "It's nothin'. Jus' a little cold is all. And pro'lly hungry too. When we find ah' place I can find ah' blanket or somethin'."

"Yeah" Daryl muttered under his breath. "If you weren't walkin' so slow you'd pro'lly be warm already." Beth scowled and kept her eyes ahead of her.

"Yeah, well if we weren't out here so late at night I wouldn't be cold, so I wouldn't be slow" Beth countered. Daryl brushed a tree out of his way and let Beth duck under his arm to avoid being hit, and then he carried on ahead of her.

"Who's fault is that?" Daryl asked her.

"Ain't mine!" Beth shivered and felt her knees beginning to weaken. Daryl shrugged.

"You're the one who said we should burn tha' shack down."

"You're older and smarter than me. You should ah' told me it was a dumb idea and we should ah' wait 'till mornin' when I wasn't drunk!" Beth stomped ahead of him and he kept close behind.

They came to the main road and Beth took a deep breath. Her vision suddenly became blurry and then everything went white. She stumbled to the side, trying to catch herself on something, but when nothing appeared before her she fell to the ground.

"Hey!" Daryl kneeled down and grabbed her left arm. "You okay?"

She held her head in her hand. All of a sudden her head felt as if it was splitting in two. Her body became clammy and her shivering became uncontrollable.

"I think I'm okay" she said as she managed to stand. Daryl tried helping her up, but as soon as she stood her legs buckled beneath her. "Whoa..."

Daryl set his crossbow down and felt her forehead. "Jesus Christ, Beth. You're burnin' up."

"Really?" she asked as she closed her eyes. "'Cause it feels like I'm in ah' freezer."

Daryl put his crossbow on his back and picked her up bridal style, her head buried in his chest.

"What're you doin'?" She asked lazily.

"You ain't gonna walk in tha' condition yer in, an' we gotta get you somewhere safe so you can heal." Daryl's face was so serious. She kind of felt bad for him; he always seemed to be worrying about something. And it always seemed to be about other people. Rarely did she see him worry about himself. It made her feel weak because he was always worrying about whether or not she is safe. She felt useless.

"I'm not injured, Daryl—,"

"You're sick."

She shivered and buried her face deeper into his chest. "I'm okay, really. Jus'… let's sit here ah' while and I'll be okay in a bit. I promise" she tried to convince him. She knew it was pointless; although she felt as if she had to try. It was probably almost morning and they hadn't slept yet all day. Daryl needed to get some rest or he would collapse soon too. After a while, Daryl's pace started to slow down and his feet seemed to be dragging. There had been silence between them for a long while, and it seemed that there was a gap trying to make itself bigger. A gap they used to have, and that they sealed when they had that fight at the moonshine shack. And it totally disappeared when they had that long conversation at dark on the porch. She finally felt she understood him inside and out, and he understood her in return. She didn't want that gap to return after it had only recently been diminished.

"What are you thinkin' about?" Beth asked him.

"How much I'm gonna love not carryin' you" he said dryly. Beth pursed her lips.

"I told you, you don't have tuh carry me. I'm fine now, if you'd jus let me down" Beth tried.

"Bullshit" Daryl spat. He came to a stop and Beth felt a quick sigh escape from his chest. "Finally" he breathed.

Beth turned her head to see an abandoned car on the side of the road, followed by a few others. Daryl turned to her and asked her if she thought she could stand, she said maybe and he let her down carefully. Her legs were aching so badly and her head still hurt like hell, but she stood there in the opening while Daryl scoped out the cars. He made a signal with his hand.

"They're clear."

Beth sighed. 'Thank God. Now he can sleep' she thought.

Daryl opened the sliding door of a minivan. "You think ah' soccer mom owned this?" he asked her. She gave him a dirty look and slowly made her way to the van.

"Just get in" she told him.

"Yeah, yeah. After you, princess." He helped her in and she got in the back seat that seated three people. Daryl took the left chair in the middle and shut the door loudly.

"Daryl!" Beth hissed. She assumed he was still a little tipsy, as was she, and she got the worst of it. She just didn't want a herd of walkers showing up when she wasn't able to stand and Daryl was worn to the bone.

"We're fine. Go tuh sleep" he ordered. Beth rolled her eyes and then closed them. She laid there without sleep for about twenty minutes, so she opened her eyes again.

"Hey, Daryl?" she whispered with tenderness.

He let out a small "mm?" and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Do you really think everyone's dead?" tears welled up in her eyes at the thought, and she blinked them back, hoping they wouldn't fall. A long silence fell between them, and she figured he fell asleep, so she closed her eyes once more. Beth was about to fall into a deep sleep when she felt something warm fall upon her body. Opening her eyes she saw the familiar wings of Daryl's jacket. Looking up at him he was turned in his seat, facing her. His messy fringe covered his ice blue eyes, and his mouth was pursed in a straight line. Beth smiled at him lightly, and he turned towards the front and put his arms behind his head and kicked his feet onto the arm rest on the passenger seat.

"Thank you" Beth barely whispered before she fell into a deep sleep, and dreamed of her father, sister, and a kind and caring Daryl. She didn't shiver anymore that night, knowing Daryl was there with her, and she finally got that blanket she longed for.

A/N: This is my first short story, so please comment and tell me what you liked and didn't like! I love feedback so I can make more stories and get better at what I love to do. In the show, there is a gap between when they leave the shack and when they arrive at the funeral home. Beth has a gray sweatshirt on that she didn't have when they left the shack. Where did she get it? And what happened in between? I would like to focus on those events for my next few one-shot short stories. Please let me know what y'all think! I appreciate it.