A/N: This chapter involves a strictly platonic conversation between Beth and Daryl. Please do not take this as hate toward the Bethyl ship because it was not written with that intention. Live and let sail to all I say! I do not tolerate Beth hate so if you're not a fan of the character I recommend skipping this chapter. This is a Caryl story first and foremost.

Daryl's first stop had been Beth's cell but she hadn't been inside. Briefly he thought about just tossing the balled up fabric in his fist into a draw and storming out again but the idea of barrelling into her personal space and intruding just didn't sit right with him, not considering he valued his own privacy so much. It was hard enough to get a minute of solitude anymore; he just didn't feel right about bursting into her room uninvited and turning the place over just to find a home for the item in his hand.

It would just be too damn creepy going through the youngest Greene's belongings like that; it was too much of an intrusion. Not to mention pulling a stunt like that was got some guys thrown in the clink in the first place before the world went to shit.

With a huff Daryl stepped away from her cell door and started going over other possible locations where Beth might be at. The girl had been spending time with that new kid Zack the last few days… maybe they were getting cosy in a quiet corner somewhere. As embarrassed as the redneck had been to find a pair of Beth's underwear in his possession he did NOT want to catch those two kids fooling around. Walking in on the pair of them in a compromising position would be a whole new level of embarrassment.

Plus, if he found the two of them together he might just have to kick Zack's ass. Beth Greene was like a sister to him, and no man wanted to see his sister getting felt-up by some horny teenager.

The faint sound Beth singing carried across the cells from down in the direction of the mess hall, announcing just where exactly she had disappeared to. Beth always liked entertaining Ass-Kicker with country music and judging by the sounds of Judith's gurgling laughter punctuating the younger Greene's solo that's exactly what Beth was doing right at that moment. Daryl would never admit it but hearing that girl sing was heartbreaking. It reminded him just how much the world had changed since The Turn. How much would never be the same again, ever.

As nostalgic as the song was the sound also angered the redneck. Who did Beth think she was, singing like everything was okay in the world when it sure as shit wasn't? And why was she so damned happy when he was the one having to chase around the prison searching for her like some dry-cleaning delivery service?

Daryl stomped through the doorway of the mess hall, his eyes darting around until they landed on the back of the blonde's head. Despite the noise of his heavy footfalls Beth continued to keep her back to him, instead focusing on the camp stove burner tucked away in the far corner. Judith sat on the floor nearby in the makeshift playpen constructed between several chairs and a roll of wire, happily distracted by a couple of red plastic cups she was using as toys. The sight of the kid playing with a stack of red cups made Daryl smirk. At least that was one thing from the old way of life that hadn't changed; a kid making a toy out of something that was never meant to be played with like that.

The redneck came to a stop a few feet behind Beth, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence. That was the one good thing about so many newcomers at the prison; they generally stopped whatever the hell they were doing when Daryl set foot in the room. His adopted family, not so much.

Again Daryl felt the sting of this new world as both a blessing and a curse. He gave it a good thirty seconds, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, making a point to make as much noise as possible with each movement. When it became apparent Beth hadn't noticed his hulking form standing behind her Daryl decided on a less subtle approach; he cleared his throat. Loudly.

No way could she ignore a sound like that.

The loud rumble from his throat did the trick and managed to catch the attentions of both girls in the room. A gurgle of laughter floated up from the floor; signally that Asskicker had caught sight of her Uncle Daryl. He waved the hand not clutching the panties towards the child and her face lit up in response before returning her attention to the plastic cups scattered around her feet. Beth cast a glance over her shoulder, letting her eyes drift from the baby on the floor to the man standing behind her.

"Hey Daryl , what's up?" she threw his way before swivelling her head back to the camp stove and the pot bubbling away on top of the lit burner.

He could believe what he was hearing. What's up? What's up! How the hell could she be so calm about shit when he was standing there holding something in his hand that if Hershel got wind of could lead to the former veterinarian potentially castrating the only surviving Dixon?

"Daryl?" Beth asked, turning away from the simmering pot to finally face him. "What's going on? Are you ok?" The blonde leant closer and cast a scrutinizing gaze over his face. "You don't look so good. You comin' down with something?"

He could feel the sweat rolling down his forehead. The only thing wrong with him was an extreme case of embarrassment. The tiny blue item balled up in his hand felt like it was burning a hole clear through the skin of his palm. Over the last year everyone in the group had lost something that had been miraculously found at a later stage tucked inside someone else's pack, but there was a big difference between finding a bag of Rick's M&M's in the saddlebags of the bike and finding a pair of teenaged girls' underwear amongst his laundry.

Merle really would be having a field day if he knew the situation Daryl was dealing with now. The older Dixon would have been as happy as a pig in shit watching his younger brother sweat through something like this.

Suddenly seeking out Beth to hand-deliver the blue cargo didn't seem like such a good idea anymore. He should have thrown the panties in her cell and not thought about the laundry mix-up again. That was what a smart man would have done.

Before he could regret the decision Daryl released his grip on the underwear in his hand and tossed them at the young blonde girl standing in front of him. "Found these in my laundry. Carol must have mixed 'em up."

Beth easily caught the flying item and looked down at it, turning it over in her hands. Daryl took the opportunity to turn on his heel and flee the area but Beth's voice halted him mid-step.

"They ain't mine," Beth called out.

He spun back around to face the youngest Greene. She was standing there, casually holding the underwear out to him like it was nothing to be ashamed about.

"What the hell you mean they ain't yours?" Daryl huffed with shock. Those panties only looked big enough to fit someone with a small behind, and she was the only young girl at the prison without counting the little leaguers that had moved in from Woodbury.

The youngest Greene shrugged her shoulders. "They ain't mine," she casually repeated. Beth's face scrunched up and she brought the scrap of cloth back towards her for closer inspection. She turned the fabric of in her hands, scrutinizing it with an observant eye. "Not my size, I wear one down from this." She held them back out before her again, urging him to take them back. "They're really cute though," she added with a bright smile.

Who the fuck cared if the damned things were cute? If they weren't her size that meant they had to belong to one of the women and not the children of the prison. It had been bad enough working up to the task of hunting down Beth to return the ownerless item, and now she was telling him the damned things weren't even hers? That meant he'd have to single out every woman in the joint and go through the embarrassing process again of asking whose panties they were. If they weren't hers then who the hell owned them?

Worse still, the way gossip travelled 'round everyone would know by sundown that Daryl Dixon had found a miscellaneous pair of women's underwear in his cell that he couldn't name the owner of.

Carol would tease the shit out of him for this…Glenn too if he caught wind of it.

"They Maggie's?" he asked finally, feeling his face burn at the question.

"How would I know?" Beth answered with a hint of annoyance.

Daryl shifted his weight from one foot to the other but refused to reach out and take back the garment Beth was still brandishing like a baton. "You're sisters, ain't you? You know that sort of stuff."

"Just 'cause we're sisters doesn't mean I know what panties she wears." The teenager shrugged as she spoke before letting her outstretched hand fall back down to her side. A teasing smile tugged on the corners of her mouth. "You wanna know what panties Maggie's got you'd better go ask Glenn."

"I ain't askin' Glenn that sort of shit!" Daryl felt his face burn even hotter at the thought of chasing after Glenn just to ask him what sort of underwear his wife got around in. A question like that was the sort of thing that earned you a sock to the jaw from the husband and a knee to the balls from the wife.

"Well I can't tell you who owns them. It's not like anyone's sewn their name inside." Beth signed impatiently and shook the underwear in his direction again. "Well go on, take 'em. They won't bite."

From the way those damned things made him feel Daryl would have preferred if they grew teeth and snapped at him; it would have been safer. He never thought he'd see the day when a wisp of a girl who barely weighed a buck soaking wet would unintentionally sound exactly like this deceased asshole brother.

It seemed like this new world made an asshole out of everybody now.

"Can't you find out who's they are?" he whined. Last thing he wanted to do was spend the rest of the day asking every female in the prison if she was a Wonder Woman fan. He had enough trouble getting the Woodbury people to leave him the hell alone. If he had to strike up a conversation with every last one of them in his quest to locate the owner of the underwear he'd never get a moments peace again. Shit, some of the women could even take it the wrong way and not get offended; they could think he was hitting on them.

Beth cocked out her hip and fixed him with an icy stare. "And why would I do that?" she asked in a voice steely.

Daryl felt the tips of his ears burning again. He shrugged, letting his gaze fall instead to the ground. It was safer to stare at the concrete beneath his feet than meet the challenging stare Beth was sending his way.

It did not make him a pussy that he wouldn't answer a teenage girls' question. It made him a smart man with a god sense of self-preservation. Merle had never known when to shut his mouth but that was one skill Daryl had learnt at a very young age.

"Don't you shrug at me Daryl Dixon," she chided. Seemed like the youngest Greene had a bit of the Irish temper too. "Now you tell me why you can't go find out who these," she shook the bright blue fabric like a pom-pom in front of her chest, "belong to?"

The bright color hanging in mid-air taunted the redneck. He let his gaze flicker between the girl and the undergarment, deciding exactly what his next course of action could be. He'd asked Beth nicely to take over the search for the owner…well, as nicely as a Dixon could ask for a favour.

The thought of just hightailing it out of there crossed his mind too. Beth was stuck there cooking and looking after Asskicker after all; it wasn't like she could catch him if he took off. Daryl could leave the prison and say he was going out on a hunt; dump the problem in Beth's hands and be free of it completely.

He was just about to turn and do exactly that when the sound of Hershel's voice wafted in from the direction of the courtyard doorway. The volume of the voice consistently increased, indicating that the old man was headed their way. Daryl jumped forward and snatched the clothing from Beth's still outstretched hand, surprising the girl in the process.

The last thing Daryl needed was a conversation about why he was standing in a room alone with the old man's teenage daughter and a pair of girls panties between them. Even if they didn't belong to the youngest Greene he didn't need Hershel to give him shit over this too.

"Fine!" With an annoyed grunt he shoved the blue into his back pocket before he stormed towards the door leading out of the mess hall.

"Hey Daryl," Beth called out, halting him in his tracks once more. "If I see Maggie you want to me to ask her what panties she's wearin'?"

The sound of Beth's assumed giggles followed Daryl as he stormed out of the room.

This was just fucking fantastic. Now he had to go traipsing 'round the prison, trying to find the woman who owned the underwear wedged in his back pocket. A twisted version of Cinderella loomed before him, but instead of finding the foot that fit the glass slipper he was looking for the ass that fit the Wonder Woman panties.

This shit was seriously fucked up.

This was the sort of situation Merle would have leapt at to be a part of. Not that Merle usually bothered to learn a chick's name before her panties hit his bedroom floor, but the prospect of questioning every woman in a five mile radius about what she wore under her clothing was definitely something that would have held Merle's interest.

For the next hour Daryl sulked around the prison, trying to be as covert as possible as he investigated who the owner could be of the cargo in his back pocket. The main problem lay with the fact that the majority of the women he knew had gone out on a quick run during the early afternoon, scavenging for anything still usable from the burnt-out remains of Woodbury. Maggie, Michonne and Carol had all gone on the crew, along with Glenn and Tyreese. It was embarrassing enough to try and discuss the situation with Beth; there was no way Daryl was going to actively seeking out the women left at the prison that he barely knew just to ask if any of them fit into the briefs he was carting around like some post-apocalyptic glass slipper.

Unless he wanted to spend the next few hours acquainting himself with the newer residents of the prison there was only one thing to do; wait until the group got back and ask Carol if she could return the panties to their rightful owner. The thought of broaching the subject with the woman was daunting enough, considering the delight she took in teasing him but it was a far better solution than repeating the exchange he'd just had with Beth with ten other women he barely knew.

A/N: There's one more chapter to this and then we'll be done. I meant no disrespect towards the Bethyl ship, but in my mind here Daryl thinks of her as too young to be of romantic/sexual interest. I believe every ship should have the right to sail, so please don't think this was written as a dig at any anyone else. I actually like Beth as a character and her interaction with Daryl this season had been an interesting character development for her. As I mentioned in the Chapter 1 A/N, this was just an Operation Levity offering. The reason it grew into this fic is purely because the first words of dialogue I heard in my head were "They ain't mine," from Beth. So this fic was actually all Beth's doing!

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