You guys are literally amazing. Over 20 reviews on the last chapter?! I couldn't ask for anything more! I love that you're all enjoying this story so much. But as you asked, there might be a little bit of drama in this chapter (;


In the morning, Beth rose slowly, smiling at the arm draped over her stomach. Daryl had returned home safe and sound. He was still sleeping, eyelashes fanned out over his high cheekbones. He looked so much younger when he was asleep. It was a rare moment that Beth ever got to see Daryl sleeping. He always liked to rise early, hunt sometimes, and cook breakfast on others. The day outside the fence must have taken a lot out of him.

She realized now that she was still wearing Daryl's shirt. Never before had she gone to bed in one of his flannels. She blushed even thinking about it. Beth wondered what Daryl must have thought about it when he returned home. She then became aware of the cold weight against her chest. She hadn't felt something that familiar since she lost her favorite heart shaped pendant. It had gotten ripped off during a horde attack.

Beth's fingers found the charm lying just above her cleavage. It was an arrow. She closed her fist around it and her eyes fell shut. Moments like these, she couldn't help but feel love for Daryl. He went out of his way to find this necklace for her. He would never know how much it meant to her. If only she could find a way to return the favor. The only thing Beth ever does for Daryl is his laundry. If it weren't for her, it would never get done.

Not wanting to wake up the sleeping Dixon, Beth slipped out from underneath his arm. Except for the fact that Daryl was indeed already awake. He had been lying, waiting for Beth to wake and discover the necklace strung around her neck. He wanted to see her face the first time she saw it. When she blushed about something blooming inside her head, he decided to feign sleep and only peek at her.

Beth stalked over to her own bed, unbuttoning the long flannel on her body as she went. She planned on stuffing it into the bottom of the laundry bag, hoping that Daryl would forget about it and not have to ask her about it. Daryl still watched even as the shirt fell from her body, pooling around her feet. She was left in her bra and underwear. He tried not to suck in a breath, but it was hard. The sight of her was beautiful.

She had an hourglass shape, thinner than he would like, but he couldn't do much about that except hunt more. She was tall and lean, the memories of the teenager lost in her newfound curves. Daryl squeezed his eyes shut. He shouldn't be thinking those thoughts. This was Beth Greene. Hershel's daughter. Maggie's sister. He tried to burn the image of the half-naked blonde from his sight, but it wouldn't leave.

When he heard the zipper of her jeans and the pull of her shirt, Daryl opened his eyes again. She was fully dressed now in a light sweater, jeans and her cowboy boots. He watched as she picked his shirt off the ground and shoved it into the bottom of the dirty laundry bag. He wanted to smirk and poke fun at her, but that would mean she knew he was watching and awake. He'd leave her alone for now.

Daryl then decided it was time to wake up. He stretched, rolling over and groaning to let Beth know that he was awake. She quick tossed the laundry bag to the foot of her bed. "Mornin' sunshine," she teased, sitting down on her own bed.

"Yeah, yeah," Daryl said, sitting up and rubbing his face free of sleep. "Sunshine my ass."

Subconsciously, Beth's fingers wound around the necklace. "Thanks for the necklace, Daryl," she blushed, wringing her fingers together. He shrugged his shoulders. And that was all that was said about the necklace. "I'll let you get dressed," Beth said, backing out of the doorway. "I'm gonna be out all day, mostly. I'm helping to make a quilt for Charlotte. She's going to pass any day now and they want to make her comfortable," Beth said. She held his gaze for a moment longer before leaving the house without breakfast.


Charlotte was an elderly woman in the park. She was close to hitting eighty. It's a miracle that she survived this long in the apocalypse, but her children and grandchildren had kept her safe all this time. But now it was soon her time to go. Alice and Martha had told Beth about the quilt that they were making. They were using up scraps of any leftover fabric or old shirts to make the blanket. Make it personal, make it comfortable.

Beth made her way to the party pavilions, the knife she always kept with her bouncing against her thigh. Though the air was chilly around her, the sun still beat down through the clouds. She was thankful for the shade that the pavilion provided. When she arrived, both Martha and Alice were there, along with Lainey, Delilah, Esther and Kimber.

There were cardboard boxes strewn about the table with swatches of cloth pouring out of them. There were some pretty, bright patterns and others were downright boring. "Mornin' Beth," Martha greeted her with a goofy grin. There was chorus of greetings from the others. Beth took her seat amongst the group, delving into the box of fabric in front of her.

Beth had done some sewing recently, patching up the holes in Daryl's jeans. Martha handed over the needle, thread and thimble. All she had to do was sew the edges of two squares together and they would all be sewn together when they were finished. Beth picked out a happy, bright floral swatch of fabric and grabbed the scissors. She cut it as close as she could to the size of a square before grabbing another piece of fabric. This one was bright yellow with faded white pinstripes.

She repeated the same steps before starting to sew the edges of the two squares together. After about an hour, Beth had sewn together three sets of squares, all of them bright and beautiful. Martha was telling stories from her childhood. Kimber joined in, telling funny stories of her kids and her husband. Beth was astounded how they could talk about these people and not cry.

If she were to try and tell stories about Judith or Carl, she'd break down in tears. She couldn't tell any stories from her time living at the farm because they all consisted memories of Maggie and Hershel and Jimmy. She could try and tell stories from elementary school, but she could barely remember those days anymore.

A little while later, when everyone had finished their sets of squares, they laid them out to construct the quilt. It was bright, happy. If Beth stayed in the park until she was old enough to die from old age, she wanted one of these quilts made for her. Martha lowered herself onto her knees as she started to sew the squares all together.

When it was finished, Martha held it up with Beth, the blanket strung out between them. The group of ladies gazed at it, sighing. They loved that they made it, but for such a sad occasion. Martha would be delivering it to the game stand that Charlotte's family was living in. She asked if Beth wanted to tag along to give it to her, but she declined. Beth didn't think she could handle seeing the old woman wilting away to nothing.


Daryl watched as Beth backed out of the room, an indifferent look in her eyes. He wished he had said something, but it was too late, she was gone. Huffing, Daryl hauled himself off his bed, shucking off his dirty clothing and pulled on a clean outfit. Beth had done the laundry the day before and he could tell. His clothes smelled good, but not as good as how Beth smelled herself.

He tied on his boots, threw his crossbow over his shoulder and headed out the door. He could see Beth off in the distance, making her way to wherever the women were meeting. He was half-tempted to follow her, but he had his own business to attend to. Daryl was invited to help make lunch last night when the other group bagged two deer and a handful of squirrels. Others were out fishing now off the newly built dock.

Some of the men had been up early this morning; scavenging for berries and other vegetables they had saved. This was something he was good at. He had gutted many deer in his life before and after the apocalypse. Daryl swore up and down that he wouldn't lead this new group, but the least he could do was to help contribute to feed them.

Daryl crossed the park, making his way to the unused bathhouse near the water slides. It was the only place they could think of to hang up the deer without attracting too many walkers outside the fences. The other shower house was used for actual showers. Somehow the electricity and water still worked throughout the park. Still, they used it in moderation.

Upon walking into the bathhouse, the metallic smell of blood flooded his sinuses. He wrinkled his nose; though he was used to the smell by now, it would never cease to shock him upon the first whiff. The two deer were hung up on hooks in the middle of two of the showers, the blood draining out of them.

Will and his son were the only two people in the bathhouse besides Daryl. Will had told him last night that not very many people like to drain, gut the deer. But they would have no problem grilling them into steaks to eat… Daryl was trying not to judge them too harshly. Both of the deer were already gutted, the rest of the blood was now draining out of them.

Christopher smiled at him as Daryl approached, catching Will's attention. "Sorry we started earlier than expected," he shrugged. "I wanted Christopher to get a real feel for it." Christopher surely had. His arms were drenched up to his elbows in blood matching the likes of his father's arms as well.

Daryl shrugged. "S'all right," he said.

"There's still some squirrels left if yah wanna do those," Will suggested to a table set up off to the side of the room. Squirrels were laid out across it, a hunting knife lying beside them. The small mammal and Daryl went way back. He could skin and clean them out in his sleep.

He propped his crossbow up against the leg of the table and went to work on the squirrels. As the minutes went by, the pile of fur and skins had grown as Daryl worked. Within ten minutes, Daryl had finished off all the squirrels while Will and Christopher collected the meat from the deer. Daryl leaned against the edge of the table, watching them as they worked.

He noted a few things that they could work on to get the maximum amount of meat from the animals, but he would keep them secret until next time when it wasn't Christopher's first time. After about an hour, both deer were just carcasses. Daryl helped Will and his son haul the meat outside to the camping area where there were grills planted into the ground. More of them men started milling about, willing to help with the grilling rather than the gutting.

Daryl took one of his own grills for the squirrel meat. Over the years, he had perfected the perfect squirrel. It would have helped if they had seasoning and other things, but he would have to deal with what they had. He flipped the mammals with one of his arrows, poking it and rolling it over. Will appeared at his side. "Those are lookin' good. What'd you do before the shit hit the fan?" He asked, squinting at Daryl.

He shrugged. "Nothin' much. Mechanic mostly, but I went huntin' for most of my meals." He wasn't going to lie to Will, but he wasn't going to tell him that his brother brought in most of the winnings being a drug dealer and all. "What 'bout you?" He asked, remembering his manners, though he could really care less about what Will did.

"Car salesman," Will laughed. "Alice was a secretary n' Christopher was barely out of high school when they dead started poppin' up," he said, gazing at his son. "I'd give anythin' for him to have grown up into a real man in the real world."

Daryl nodded, agreeing. He thought the same thing about Beth. She was only sixteen when the infection hit. He always wondered what kind of person she would have grown up to been if the apocalypse never happened. Somehow he liked to think she'd be the exact same person, but he didn't think that'd be true. Daryl catered to his meat as Will retold the story of how he found the park group.

It was a long, drawn out story with too many details for Daryl to pay attention. He caught the gist of it, thinking a group of the survivors were walkers and almost shot them and lost his chance of finding this place. It was almost similar to his and Beth's story, but the group found them. If it were up to him, they would still be out on their own. It is still hard to trust people after the Governor.

Daryl turned the meat over once more before taking it off and placing it onto a platter, next to some of the deer meat that was already finished. Once all the meat was finished, Daryl and the other guys were going to take it up to the carousel and set it out for the lunchtime meeting. He couldn't wait to see Beth. He had made one of the squirrels just the way she liked it – burnt to a crisp. He thought she was insane, but that was how she liked it.

Just as the last slab of meat was being taken off the grill, the screams pierced the air. Spatulas and tongs clattered to plates, all the men frozen in fear. It was children's screams. Across the camping field, along the fence, he could see children fleeing when earlier they were playing happily. Daryl's eyes flitted along the fence, looking for what was the matter.

Until he saw it. One of the gates was hanging wide open. Walkers were spilling into the park heading towards the party pavilions and the main part of the park. "Walkers!" A voice called out from far away. More screams started to fill the air, riling up the walkers outside of the fence. Daryl knew most of the people in the park weren't armed. This was bad. Daryl grabbed his crossbow, leaving the group of men in sprint across the field, his last thoughts of Beth and hoping she was still alive.


Like Beth and Daryl thought, never trust the fences. I'd love to hear your predictions on what's to happen! Reviews make this story come faster!