A/N: I do NOT own or profit from these characters. I hope you all enjoy this story. I'm excited for what's to come! Yay! Let me know what you guys think!

DPOV

Daryl opened his eyes and immediately noticed that Beth was no longer in their shared bed. It had been two weeks since they'd left the R.V. and they'd been holed up in a house that Morgan and Beth had used as a stash spot. They'd hidden food and supplies in the house and Daryl couldn't help but be impressed. But he was currently agitated because Beth had yet to talk to him about anything unless it was about here and now. She always snuck off in the mornings to do God knows what and he knew he didn't have to worry about her. She was tough. But he did. He worried. And he got angry.

Now, he was angry and tired because sleeping next to Beth every night and not having her was torture and he couldn't sleep. With a growl and some incoherent mumbling he swung his legs out of the bed and slipped his jeans on before grabbing his long-sleeved henley and his boots. After dressing, he grabbed his crossbow and knife and went down the stairs.

The back door was open, letting in cool, crisp air and he saw Brutus laying on the porch, large black head on his paws and eyes closed. Beth couldn't be far if Brutus was there so Daryl headed out the porch. The blonde in question was sitting on the porch railing holding a small cup of coffee and watching the sunrise.

Daryl knew she'd heard his footsteps, she was good like that, so he wasn't surprised that she didn't jump or flinch when he moved to stand next to her. He didn't touch her, but there wasn't much space between them and he could feel her heat, her energy as she just stared at the horizon.

"You want to spar with me today?" She asked without looking at him.

"You'll pull your stitches again." He said as he glanced at her. "You're already gonna have two nasty scars."

"I'm not real worried about scars." She said with a slight smirk. "I have enough of them."

"Exactly. You have enough." He said.

"Do they bother you?" She asked, still looking away.

Daryl was starting to feel like she brought up sparring so that she oculd have this conversation. He wasn't sure what kind of mood she was in but he didn't lie to Beth.

"No. Not for the reasons you think."

"Why do they bother you?"

"Because someone hurt you. And I wasn't there to stop it." He said as he pushed back that familiar rage, that self-desructive hate.

"We hurt them back. Both of us." She said. "We repaid Dawn for the physical scars."

He stayed silent as she talked, he didn't think she was fully here with him but if that's what she needed to finally talk then he would give it to her.

"I killed Gorman." He frowned at the unfamiliar name passing her lips. "Well, I used a walker to kill him. And I killed another guy. I can't even remember his name now."

She shook her head as she trailed off but still Daryl stayed silent. He didn't know who those men were or why she'd killed them. He wasn't sure he was strong enough to know.

"I killed people with Morgan. Bad people. A woman. A baby. I don't remember any of their names."

When she finally looked at him, there were tears in her eyes and a strange smile on her lips. A light shone from her eyes and Daryl felt a moment of panic, remembering the farm, the broken mirror, her blood, her scar.

"I can't remember their names. I come out here every morning. Every. Single. God. Damn. Morning. And I think about them. Their faces. Their death. And I can't remember their names."

Beth started to cry and Daryl moved closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and holding her close. He was surprised when she lay her head on his shoulder but he very carefully didn't move.

"I wanted to tell you their names." She said in a broken voice.

BPOV

As Beth scrubbed herself quickly, using boiled water from the well on the property, she tried to push past the fact that she'd just cried all over Daryl. Again. That seemed to be becoming a habit of hers and she didn't like it much. She hissed as she ran the rag over her stitches on her thigh and looked at the inflamed skin. She'd have to remove the stitches and maybe let the wound heal on it's own. Which meant, no walking around. She touched the skin again and held her breath to keep from yelping out loud. Daryl would have to do it. She couldn't hurt herself like that, she'd chicken out. Daryl would just pull the stitches and he was strong enough to hold her down if he had to. And honestly, he'd probabaly have to.

She rinsed her skin and dried off before slipping on a pair of panties and a tank top, she didn't put any pants on because she'd just ave to take them off again. Leaving the bathroom, she ran her fingers through her freshly washed hair, trying to untangle the curls before she combed it.

"Daryl?" She called softly as she started towards their shared room.

He was in the doorway in seconds and his eyes widened when he saw her state of undress. His blue eyes darted between her legs, her hips, her chest and then her face, never staring at one area too long. She would've laughed but her leg was beginning to burn and itch and she needed something done now.

"Can you take these stitches out?" She asked as she pointed at her thigh. "I can't do it or I would've."

"Yeah. Come on." He said as he stepped back into the room.

She followed after him and soon found herself laying on the bed, a towel folded underneath her in case the wound started bleeding. Daryl touched the stitches and she felt her muscled twitch. She bit her lip so she wouldn't cry out but it hurt. God, did it hurt.

As he turned his back, Beth let out the breath she'd been holding and tried to breath slowly. When he turned back around she was still focusing on her breathing and jumped when something cold touched her leg.

"Bactine." Daryl said as he held up the bottle.

She nodded and felt the burning subside slightly along with the itching. Daryl crawled onto the bed and held up a small pair of silver scissors. She looked at them for a moment before looking at Daryl and nodding that she was ready.

He began to cut the thread and she was just grateful that it was thin and not that horrible wire stuff. When he started pulling the pieces through her skin she struggled not to cry out and finally just gripped his t-shirt, twisting it in her fingers.

"Talk to me." Daryl said and she had to breathe in before she could reply.

"About what?" She asked.

"Anything. Sing a song."

"Sing?" She would've laughed if she could've.

"Do something besides hold your breath." He said to her.

"Okay. Um. When you guys first showed up on the farm. I had a crush on you." She said. "You and your motorcycle and your crossbow."

"You had a crush on my motorcycle and my crossbow?"He asked her.

"Hey. I was sixteen, okay? And the bike and the bow were hot. They added to the sex appeal." She did laugh then.

"What did you know about sex appeal at sixteen?"

"Enough to know that I really, really wanted to ride that bike with you." She said, not caring that this used to be an embarassing memory. "God, but it was hot."

"Really?" He said.

"Oh, yeah." She said as she remembered. "But it's not like you noticed me back then."

"You don't think I noticed the hot farmer's daughter?" He asked in a low voice.

"We ain't talkin' 'bout Maggie." Beth said with a half laugh.

"I know we ain't." Daryl said. "Believe me, I know it. I remember seein' this hot, young blonde thing in tight jeans and cowboy boots. Sixteen years old. Too young for a man like me but damn did I notice. So did every other man."

"Yeah, right." She said with a slight huff.

"If you ever tell Rick I told you, I'll deny it, but we talked about you a few times back on that farm."

"Rick was married." She said.

"Married not blind." Daryl answered as he turned to face her. "And you was just a fantasy back then. Out of reach. Sunshine and sweetness and sin in a world full of dakness and death. A dream."

"Why didn't you say somethin'?" Beth said in a voice gone low.

The way Daryl was looking at her had her forgetting that she was hurt, that he'd just removed her stitches. That she was damaged.

"You was sixteen, Beth. I was thirty-four. What was I supposed to say?" He asked as he looked into her eyes, his own hooded with desire.

"Kiss me now, Daryl." She said, voice barely a whisper.

"What about-" He started to ask.

"Kiss me." Beth said again.

His mouth crashed against hers and she gasped. Their tongues tangled and her hands moved to his too long hair, tangling in the dark strands. He seemed hesitant to put his hands anywhere so Beth pulled back to look at him.

"What is it?" She asked.

"I can't do this if you're jus' gonna stop, Beth. I'm dyin' here and you can't offer me a drop of water but keep the bottle. You get me?" He said as he stared at her.

She nodded and moved to kiss him again but he stopped her and sat back.

"Just think about it first, Beth. You said we need to talk first and that ain't happened yet. I can't take no back and forth. I need you to be sre just as much as you need me to be sure."

Beth moved back, laying her head on the bed again as she thought about what he said. He was right, of course. Daryl usually was.

"Okay." She finally said. "I'll think about it."

"Let's get some sleep." Daryl said before cleaning the bed off from removing her stitches.

For the first time, she noticed there was a thick layer of gauze taped to her thigh and she had no idea when he did that. He'd distracted her well with his story and his kiss.

He slid into the bed next to her and didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest. She breathed a sigh of relief that they had gotten here, a place where they didn't feel the need to pull away from each other. As her eyes grew heavy with sleep she felt Daryl bury his face against the back of her neck and she couldn't keep a small smile from her lips.