Sorrow is a fruit.
God does not make it grow on limbs too weak to bear it.

~ Victor Hugo.

I come to, she's already awake. Doesn't feel right, ain't how it's supposed to go. Her body stiffens against mine; she's practically lying on me, I can feel every movement; in this case, the sudden lack thereof. I expect her to pull away. She doesn't.

"Sleep alright?" My voice is rough, sleep still traced all over it. I realize what I asked and want to curse out loud. Can't seem to stop with the stupid questions. I know I'm walking on eggshells. I don't like it. Just don't want to upset her, make myself more of an asshole than I already am, and make her feel worse being stuck with me than she already does.

She offers a passive hum, I feel the vibration spread into my chest. First proper response she's given me for hours. Not sure what it means, but I take it. I know I should get up, but lying here feels better than putting myself and Beth out there again. Suppose a few minutes won't hurt.

After a long time, I notice I'm playing with her hair. When did I start doing that? It's relaxing. But is it right? I wonder if it's okay. Need to fiddle with something, I tell myself. Got no arrow in my hand. If she doesn't like it, she isn't saying anything.

The sound of chirping in the wilderness outside the tent is what gets me moving. She sighs, rolling to the side. I feel strangely cold without her against me. I crouch, open the backpack and pull out the beef jerky.

"Ain't gonna lie," I mumble, opening the plastic pouch. "We got a rough day ahead of us. Need to find some place secure. Need to find more food. Water."

She's still, lying with her back to me, silent.

Slip a piece of jerky into my mouth. It's never tasted better. Must have used up every single spark of energy had I left yesterday. A cold wave rushes through me when an image of the ruined prison, smoking, infested with walkers and littered with familiar bodies flashes in my mind. Thinking about it now, I can't remember if I saw Rick getting away. He was out in the field when the shooting started and then he… disappeared. Or I did. A familiar itch starts growing inside me; I want to go back. I want to go back and look. One glance at Beth's stiff back and I come to the inevitable conclusion; I can't. Lose my appetite pretty quickly after that.

"Hey," I call. She doesn't answer. Why's she doing that? She knows I know she can hear me.

"Hey," I say a little harder this time and give her foot a rough shake. "Beth!"

She rolls quickly around to her back, props herself on her elbows. Glares daggers at me. "What?"

Drop the pouch with jerky on her lap. "Eat up."

Without hesitation or so much as giving the food any consideration, she throws it back. "No - thanks. I'm not hungry."

Catch it. Glare back at her. "We're moving soon," I grunt, taking a step forward, starting to lose patience. I drop the pouch unceremoniously unto her lap, never breaking eye contact. "So you better fill up, 'cause I ain't draggin' you."

I turn around to leave.

"Yeah, then maybe you should just leave me here!"

I stiffen. For a second I stand there, back turned to her. Resist the urge to throw something back for the satisfaction of seeing her blush in defeat. This ain't Beth. It's self-pity from a child, lashing out for no reason and I ain't about to reward it. I snort. Sweep the tent flap out of my way as if I didn't hear anything.

Turns out the dead bastard left behind more of a goldmine than I first anticipated. Probably shouldn't be glad he's dead, but I kind of am. Bunch of boxes beside the tent, practically littered with stuff most folks would probably only dare to dream about having in one and the same place. Rope. More beef jerky. Protein bars. Fishing net. Bunch of flares. …Play boy? The only thing that doesn't seem to be here are weapons. One box is filled with clothes. Almost consider changing into a new pair of pants right then and there; my eyes go to the closed tent-flap and I decide against it. Find a knife, barely tucked in the dead guy's belt. Small, easy to navigate. Savin' that one for Beth. My eyes scan the remains of the camper. Something about the corpse ain't sitting right with me. Can't put my finger on what it is.

Plastic crackles from within the tent and soon after, a blonde head peaks out. Beth watches me carefully as she chews on something. Finally. I almost look at her, she's decent enough to look ashamed of herself, lowering her gaze. Good. I squint at her, the sun in my eyes.

"Ready to quit acting like a brat and start bein' useful?"

She swallows, stepping almost reverently into the light. "Sorry."

Was a genuine albeit brief apology. I nod, fiddling with the knife in my hand. "You know that was a dumb thing to say."

She's digging her toe into the ground. Doesn't answer.

"About leavin' you. 'Cause I ain't."

Silence.

"I know."

It's brief, that doesn't seem to matter; something about that answer makes me feel good. Hell, I can't stay mad at her. She glances briefly at my hand and I realize I'm still holding the knife. Brandish it at her. "Take it."

She does, hesitantly.

"Found it. Thought you should have it."

For a moment she tests the weight of it in her hand. She's smiles; I try not to. She looks to the side and I follow her gaze to the corpse. Something knowing flashes through her blue hues before she looks at me again.

"You found it on the dead guy, didn't you?" Her voice is flat.

Don't have to say anything; the crooked smile I can't hold in is enough. She scoffs with smirk, walking passed me, brushing her shoulder against mine intentionally as she goes.

I shrug, turning around. "He's dead; ain't gonna miss it none, he don't need it."

Beth crouches above the head of the corpse. "Wonder how long he's been here… He doesn't look…" she frowns. "…rotten."

I roll my eyes, turning back to the boxes, dismissing the subject. "That's 'cause there ain't much left to rot." Pull up the pair of pants I'd been looking at before. "Got the backpack?"

"In the tent."

I grunt in response, collect the backpack. Stuff the pants inside. Should probably take as much as we can carry without slowing us down.

A moment later, Beth grunts behind me. "What's this thing underneath?"

Turn around to find an odd scene of Beth trying to push the corpse aside. It's probably 132 pounds of half eaten dead meat, how damn heavy can it be? I don't say anything. Shuffle over, give her a nod before we practically throw the body to the side. A hole in the lateral left side of the skull catches my eye now that I'm seeing the body in a different angle. Something flashes in the corner of my eye; Beth's holding up a weapon. A… machete? Body must have been lying on top of it.

Something doesn't add up.

"Pss." Catch her attention pretty quickly. I nod at the body, crouch over it and point to the gunshot wound. "See that?" She's suddenly beside me and I try not to think about how I flinch. Damnit.

"Gunshot?"

"Mhm," I nod. "Looks like it's from a close range, too. Hard to say. But it ain't self-inflicted."

"So maybe he was with someone, maybe they were afraid he'd turn?"

Shake my head. "Nah." Squint down at the wound. There's a bite-mark over the gunshot. "He died before he was bit."

"What?" Feel her eyes on me."How- how can you know that?"

I bend closer, despite smell. "Well, I don't see no trace of any splinter. Should be a crater by the entry wound." Realisation dawns on me and a strong urge to leave this place as soon as possible grows in my chest. Stand up and pick up the backpack. Swing it onto my back. "There ain't."

She doesn't move behind me. Probably studying the wound. I gather my arrows as quickly as I can.

I think I hear her swallow. "A walker bit it off."

Bingo.

"Daryl, what does that mean?"

Try not to let the uneasiness in her voice affect me.

"Means we gotta move. Whoever got him is sure to be back soon."

She looks worried when I face her again. "It's like you said, Beth; he don't look rotten."

Something flashes in her face. "He didn't die long ago…" Her eyes widen and she comes up right in front of me. "Daryl, we have to- We have to go!"

I nod, adjusting the crossbow over my shoulder. Gesture at her to lead the way, my hand lands softly on her waist and I find myself pushing her forward instead. Can feel her ribs without having to try; have to get her to eat more.

Frown when she doesn't move. She's looking up at me, eyes bleeding hesitation. Can practically hear her thinking 'What if?' Don't have to wait long for her to say it.

"It could be them."

She looks impatient when I don't say anything. Can't do anything but stare back.

"It could be!"

Her eyes bounce between mine, searching for something I can't give her. Don't have the heart to tell her the foot prints I've seen – the ones that don't look like an aimless stride from the walkers – don't look they belong to anyone from the group, either. They're bigger, deeper. Belong to someone tall, heavy. Dangerous. Don't want her to get emotional again. It ain't good for her, it ain't good for me. Slows us down, makes us both unfocused.

She swallows, bitter disappointment slipping into her eyes, as if she can hear what I'm thinking. Before I can stop her, she twirls around, jaws bit together in determination and steps up to the nearest tree, shoving a few leaves out of the way. Can only stand and watch as she carves something into the wood with the knife I'd given to her. Daryl and Beth. When she's done, she turns around and walks right past me.

"Let's go."

Wow. I did not expect such a response to the oneshot on either AO3 or FF. I'm very grateful that you all liked it. I find it a challenge to write from Daryl's point of view, but it pleases me that at least some people have found it agreeable. I've never been in his head before so it was sort of a gamble; either it was gonna bend or it was gonna break.

So muse had me write another chapter for you! I still feel like I'm walking on ice, mind you. I hope you've all enjoyed it!

Please, tell me your thoughts!
What you love/hate, what you think was missing, what part stood out to you most?
Is Beth and Daryl in or out of character?
Do you like the writing style? It's a bit unorthodox, so.
Anything and everything! Good bad or ugly, just hit me with it!

Kaptenkramp.