Author's Note: Alright, I'm embarking on another multi-chapter story. I plan on making this a little more light-hearted because, hey, NO ZOMBIES. Please read and review, thanks so much for reading!


Jailbird

"I'm sorry, Beth. But your daddy said to keep you here overnight. Somethin' about learnin' a lesson."

She knows Sheriff Grimes feels bad for her. She's nearly family, after all. And she's not sure Sheriff Grimes has ever experienced this exact issue with any member of his family before. It's not like Carl's really old enough to be incarcerated.

"What about me?" Zach asks from next to her, nervously wringing his hands. He'd always been such an anxious kid, ever since they were small and she was bossing him around on the farm. Normally it annoyed her slightly, but tonight she completely understands. It's as if there's a knot in her stomach that won't go away – she's really not used to being in trouble.

"You can go, son. Your momma's here to pick you up," Sheriff Grimes says gently, eyes still guilty glued to Beth. Zach shoots her a placating look, as if to say "Sorry, kid, you're on your own" before following Rick out of their shared cell.

She can't help but very maturely stick her tongue out at his retreating back.

Beth Greene is a good girl. Always has been. She was lovely and kind and she made sure her parents were very, very proud of her. She got straight A's all through high school, had gotten into the honors program at the nearby college easily, and was always home for supper. She worked at the veterinarian clinic after school with her daddy and the people of their small town simply adored her – sweet little Beth Greene.

And now she was in jail.

She wonders, staring dully at the bars in front of her, if all that goodness in her had turned sour. Had she completely lost her mind?

...

She knows what triggered this, of course. Beth's planning on majoring in psychology and the one person that she analyzed the most was herself. She had felt this breakdown coming from a mile away. And what had she done to prevent it? Nothing. She'd made a list to spurn it on and that damn piece of paper was burning a hole in her back pocket.

She's shifting slightly, pulling it out with shaking hands, still hyped up on adrenaline and guilt. As she reads over the words in the dim light, she cringes a little bit. Written in neat, girlish handwriting, she had spelled out her intentions quite clearly:

"Beth Greene's Bucket List"

It wasn't meant to be an easy list. It was meant to challenge her and push her. Because, after throwing her graduation cap in the air, Beth had looked around her. She had seen the faces of kids she had known all her life and she thought about what she would remember about each of them. And what they would remember about her. She asked Zach, her oldest friend, that exact question at her graduation party. Over iced tea and with a sweet smelling breeze in the air, he had said the words that had led her down this path of destruction: "Well, Beth, I'm sure they'll all remember how nice you always were."

How nice she was.

Not how wild, or funny, or beautiful, or smart. How nice. If she could pick out the most boring descriptive words in the English language, they would be the ones always used to describe her: nice, kind, sweet. She needed a new descriptor. She wanted to be a new person, remade for her next life adventure. And therefore, the list was born. She wrote it eagerly that night, drawing inspiration from Maggie's stories of crazy nights and Truth or Dare games gone wrong.

And now, she'd topped all of Maggie's wrongdoings. She was in fucking jail.

...

She's too busy fuming at herself and her stupidity to notice the person in the cell next to her. Beth Greene wasn't exactly one to associate with criminals anyway. She can't help but snort in amusement at herself and that train of thought. Hypocrite. As a challenge, another invisible marker on her list, she looks into the cell next to her for the first time. Sitting there, legs stretched out on the bench, ankles crossed, is a man. His eyes are closed, head tipped back against the cement wall as though he's taken many a nap in these cells. His hair is dark and shaggy, tattoos visible along his upper arms, taunt with muscle even in sleep. Beth, unabashed in her inspection, takes him in with a slight hitch in her breathing and feels a little silly. And here she was thinking she was trouble.

As if her thoughts had given her away, his eyes snap open and are looking directly at her. Blue meets blue for merely a second before she's looking down at her lap, all sense of bravado gone completely, a new nervousness taking over her limbs.

"Girl, you don't exactly look like the type to be in here. What'd you do?" It's a low rumble of a southern draw, and Beth registers that it's a bit too loud for her to reasonably ignore. She's thinking it might sound a bit accusatory too – was he purposely making her uncomfortable? Did he know she had been watching him?

"Trespassing." She can feel her neck and cheeks heating up. Originally she was embarrassed at committing a crime at all, and now she was embarrassed at how silly of a crime it was. There was no way out of blushing tonight, it seemed.

He's chuckling at that, hand brushing back long hair from his face.

"Could be worse, girl."

She can feel herself bristling in annoyance at him. Which is strange. She's always been kind to strangers.

"My names not girl," she snaps, and then immediately reverts to back to politeness. "I'm Beth Greene, it's nice to meet you."

She feels silly, as though she should be sticking a hand out in greeting. But there are metal bars between them and this isn't exactly a normal introduction. He's staring her strangely, as though caught between impressed by her sudden confidence and the urge to laugh at a cordial greeting in a jail cell.

"Nice to meet ya too, Miss Beth." He's tipping his head, mocking her just slightly. "Name's Daryl Dixon."