The Tie that Binds

Author's Note:

Okay, so this story had been in the works since halfway through season 3, when I exclaimed (to the annoyance of my mother) that Daryl and Beth were going to become cannon. It may take until the end of season 4… but I KNOW I'm right. I've only begun writing it now, since I wanted to wait until Daryl and Beth's (mostly Beth's…) fate was more concreted in the show.

THAT being said, I do have to do the usual disclaimer that I do not own the rights to the television show or the comics, nor do I own the rights to any of the characters that are familiar to you. I'm just here to canonize them in my deliciously depraved mind.

Some similarities may crop up between my fanfiction and Riain's 'The Best of Me'. I devoured it in one sitting, and some motifs will crop up throughout. I'm going to do my best to avoid similar structure, names, situations, etc. Anything you read that is in any way similar to her, I'm very content to give her the credit!

I'm going with the 18 year old Beth, and a 28 year old Daryl… I'm not sure if Daryl's age is ever explicitly mentioned in the series. That's what fanfiction is though, right? Creative license? Boom.

Without further ado—The Tie that Binds

How long had it been since everything went to hell? Beth had given up on counting the days, because between near daily walker threats and Daryl's insistence that they never stop moving, most days she just forgot to mark it down in her little diary.

It didn't even really count as a diary; just a bundle of paper scraps she'd collected from books during their stay at the prison. She never understood why most books had completely blank pages in them… it seemed a waste.

Beth would sometimes reread entries from her time in the prison, living in stolen peace. It had only been a matter of time before something went wrong.

Enter the Governor, complete with a tank, and an army of men and women he had inexplicably convinced that Rick and the group were the bad guys.

She had a gun put in her hand, waiting for Rick to talk the Governor down, to come to a peaceful resolution.

The image of her daddy's head being severed from his body with Michonne's sword would forever be burned into her brain.

She and Daryl sat against the back of a shallow cave they'd stumbled upon several hours ago, both staring silently into the fire Beth had built a foot underground, so as to not attract walkers.

It had been several nights since they'd burned down the moonshine house, since he'd opened up to her about his life before the world got shot to shit.

"I was thinking," Beth began, needing to break the thick silence between them. Neither had spoken about that night; Beth pretended she had been too drunk to remember anything. She assumed Daryl had done the same.

"What have you been thinking, little girl?" Daryl responded, not taking his eyes off the flame which was heating his boot-covered feet.

"I think we should try for north." At this, Daryl did look up, his expression puzzled.

"Little girl, winter is coming in little less than four months. I've never had the pleasure of experiencing a Northern winter, and I sure as shit don't plan on changing that."

"Look, Daryl, you remember how slow the walkers got last winter, and we're still in Georgia! Imagine how little of a threat they must be up north during the winter." He squinted at her.

"What about Maggie? And Glenn? What about Rick and Carl and Judith?" Beth looked down at her lap. "You just givin' up on them?"

She shook her head and sighed. He didn't understand. She absently rubbed the ugly scars on her wrists, a painful reminder of all the things she'd once had and now lost. Her mother, her brother, her sister, her father, Judith…

"I'm not giving up. I have faith that God will bring us all together again… but it's stupid to keep looking. We need to look out for ourselves." Her voice barely carried over the sound of the wind rustling the leaves on the trees around the cave. "At the very least, we need to find real food, fresh water… clothes that don't reek of blood and sweat would be nice, too."

Daryl smirked. "I agree with you there, little girl."

"Would you quit it with the 'little girl' bullshit? If we're really four months away from winter, I'm halfway to nineteen!" Beth said, her voice hitched. Daryl chuckled.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart." She rolled her eyes. "Go ahead and get some shut eye—I'll keep first watch."

Daryl hadn't been thrilled to have gotten stuck with Beth after the prison was breached. Hell, even Carl would've been more useful than the sheltered little farm girl he was now towing around.

There was nothing he could do about it now; he couldn't in good conscience leave the girl to fend for herself. She wouldn't last an hour on her own. She couldn't hunt, couldn't defend herself, couldn't do hardly anything except sit there and talk.

But her daddy had been murdered right in front of her. She wasn't hard like he was, she had been sheltered. That wasn't her fault. He couldn't just give up on her because she slowed him down (and she did, quite a bit).

Drunk on moonshine, he'd admittedly been meaner than he should have. When he dragged her out of the moonshine house to kill the walker, he'd blown up on her.

Beth hadn't backed down. Instead she came up behind him and hugged him.

Daryl couldn't even remember the last time someone had hugged him.

Carol had, sure, but it was always a side hug, like she was afraid of getting too close to anyone, after Sophia… Besides, he saw Carol as a surrogate mother, even though she couldn't have been more than fifteen years older than he.

With Beth, it was different. He didn't know exactly what he felt for the girl, but after their escapades whilst intoxicated, he sure didn't see her as a child.

He peered over at her, asleep on the dirt floor of the cave. Her face was illuminated by the fire. She looked tense still, her features pinched and worried.

Daryl felt bad for her, and not just because she lost her family. He couldn't imagine he was a very amicable companion.

She shifted over in her sleep, causing her blonde hair to fall over her face. The urge to tuck it behind her ear overcame him like a massive wave. Before he could, however, he heard a groan coming from the cave entrance.

"Sunofa—" he hissed, pulling his knife from his boot to take care of the walker. There seemed to only be one, so Daryl got up and headed toward it. It must have been attracted by the light, and now it had noticed him. It bee lined over to where he was, arms outstretched and growling hungrily.

Daryl easily sidestepped it and buried his knife deep in its decaying skull. As he pulled the blade from its head, he looked at the corpse with disgust. The man was middle aged, probably a business man from the look of his tattered trousers and bloody button up shirt. It must have wandered pretty far, because Daryl didn't know of any big cities closer than Atlanta, which was miles and miles away. They must have been up near Tennessee by now.

After disposing of the walker, he peered around for any others before heading back into the cave. Beth's request to head north wasn't a bad idea, by any stretch. He didn't know why he'd dismissed it so quickly.

Maybe he was scared. After all, he'd never been out of Georgia before.

No, Dixons didn't get scared. He was just being stubborn.

"Alright, fine. We'll head north." he said, mostly to himself as he sat back down beside Beth's sleeping form. "First thing tomorrow, sweetheart."

Okay, so it's a start. I'm going to try to at least include both POVs in each chapter, but no promises, since it might not work with my story flow.

Please review, I'm open to ideas and suggestions, as well as critiques. Thanks!