A/N: Bring on the fluff and a little drama to boot! Lots of Bethyl, then and now. Hope you like it.

Beth slapped at her phone. It was way too early for any kind of good news. "Greene," she whined, voice thick with sleep.

"Wake up, girl. Might have somethin'"

"What time is it?"

"Quarter to five. Patrolman out of the 15th picked up a girl last night. Said she and her friend were attacked. Perp got away with one of 'em."

"Address?"

Beth padded to the shower, noting how dark it was outside. She was normally an early riser, but last night she had not slept well at all. Between worrying over this case and picking apart her dinner conversation with Daryl, peaceful sleep had been near on impossible. Beth thought about her first dinner / breakfast with Daryl. After her first op with Intelligence, Sargent Jones had insisted that Beth go to the hospital to have the laceration across her forehead checked out. She had wanted to stay to process the perp, but Jones wouldn't have it. Much to her surprise, Daryl had been the one to volunteer to take her to the ER. Eight butterfly stitches, one head CT, and several hours later, Daryl escorted her from the hospital to his old Ford pick up. "You hungry," he asked as he held the passenger door open for her. The 4am Waffle Hut crowd was scant, but the coffee was hot, and she was there with Daryl. You would hear no complaints from her. Beth smiled under the shower spray remembering how Daryl had cut his eyes at her when she ordered a huge hearty breakfast. She couldn't see his eyes through that fringe of too long bangs that he wore so well, but she could feel them. "Damn, girl. Don't know where you gonna' put all that food," he mumbled, making her giggle and blush.

It was there, at their impromptu breakfast, where they shared their first sunrise. It was also there that she learned just how much Daryl liked to hunt and fish, not so much by what he said, but more how he said it. Daryl was quiet but animated, always moving, as if something was boiling just under the surface. He used his shoulders, his hands, and his eyes instead of words to communicate, and Beth found it fascinating. She was inexplicably drawn to him, almost hyperaware when she was with him, so much so, that as their relationship grew, words became unnecessary.

When Daryl walked Beth to her door at a little before seven that morning, neither one questioned her silent invitation. Daryl locked the dead bolt behind him and left his boots on the rug. Beth continued on to her bedroom leaving Daryl flopped on the couch. The first time he woke her, he gently nudged her shoulder, waking her after two hours of sleep, just like the ER doctor had instructed. She opened her eyes and mumbled a quick, "Thank you, I'm good." The second time Daryl woke her, she asked him to stay. "Don't make sense you waking up and walking all the way in here every two hours."

"It ain't that far," he said with a shrug.

Beth reached out and took hold of his wrist, gently tugging him toward her. Had he wanted to resist, he could have easily done so, but he didn't. He, instead, sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed with his back to Beth. She pulled herself from her cocoon of blankets, wincing only a little at the sharp pain behind her eyes and grabbed the extra quilt from the foot of the bed. He turned his head toward the movement but kept his chin tucked to his chest, watching her from the corner of his eye.

"You can sleep on top of the covers," she said matter-of-factly as she gently placed the quilt down next to him. Daryl battled his better judgement and finally gave into his gut. In one swift move, he was on his back, one arm slung over his eyes, the other stiff at his side. Beth lowered herself to the bed next to him and felt him tense.

Undaunted, she reached for him again, this time wrapping her arm around his bicep, and pressing her forehead lightly against his shoulder. She waited patiently for him to relax, which he finally did, moments later on a deep sigh.

The third time Daryl woke her, she opened her eyes to find him lying on his side, facing her, one hand busy combing through her hair, the other tucked under the side of his face as if he had slept in that very spot his entire life. Daryl's hand froze when his eyes landed on hers. Beth gave him a soft reassuring smile that made it all the way to her eyes before she closed them again and drifted back to sleep.

The last time he woke her, it was with a soft kiss to the top of her head and a barely audible goodbye. So it had gone with them, slow, steady, and sure, at least it had up until Beth had been accepted to Quantico. After that, Daryl just seemed to disappear.

Beth parked her red Jeep Wrangler next to Daryl's truck near the crime scene tape. She spotted Daryl and Rick talking with a monster of a man who appeared to be laying out the details of the scene before them. Daryl squinted at Beth from across the parking lot. He watched as she gathered her hair against the wind and twisted it up into a messy knot on the top of her head. He remembered the first time he had ever seen her. It was in the near empty parking lot of the precinct at shift change. She had her head under the hood of her patrol car and her ass up in the air. She was so far up under the hood, her feet were off the ground. She hadn't heard his quiet footfalls as he had approached the car. "Want some help?"

"Ow!" she yelped when her head met with the hood. "Don't you know better than to sneak up on an armed police officer," she snapped.

Daryl stood amused in front of her, watching her rub the top of her head. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, the little braid that ran through it, a testament to her age. Even under the bulk of the Kevlar he could see how slight she was.

"You part of the junior ride along program or sumn', girl?" he asked only half joking.

The irritated stink eye she shot him had him fighting back a grin.

"You gonna' help me or not, smart ass?" That did make hm smile in spite of his better judgement.

"Completely dead?" he asked as he rolled up his sleeves and shoved them up and over his elbows, "or just not wantin' to turn over?"

"Completely dead," she said, taking one step back.

Daryl dove under the hood and started wiggling this and poking at that. His stomach took a tiny little drop when Beth's face appeared next to his, alarmingly close. "What do ya' think," she asked with impossibly wide eyes.

It wasn't the last time he pondered the depth of those baby blues. The way he figured it, a man could get lost and die happy in eyes like that. She blinked twice, waiting for an answer, before Daryl snapped out of the spell she had cast and promptly knocked his head on the hood too, needing to put a little space between him and her. "Either the alternator or the battery. I'll give it a jump and you can take it to the garage."

Daryl pulled his old pick up around and did just that, jolting the battery back to life. When he lowered the hood, Beth was standing next to him again. "Thanks."

"Mhmm."

"What's your name," she asked kindly.

"Dixon."

"I'm Greene," she said sticking her hand out for him to shake. "Thanks for the help, Mr. Dixon."

"Anytime, Greene," he said as he spun away and headed for his truck.

He found himself watching for her, catching glimpses here and there of a long, blonde ponytail or big, blue eyes. He knew she had to be Chief Greene's daughter, entitled and spoiled was his best guess, but something about her intrigued him.

He was glad for the distance, however, somehow knowing that being near her would complicate his life in a way that he wasn't sure he was ready for. Then, she had been asked to help with that damn undercover op. He had said his peace, right there in front of her, making it perfectly clear that he didn't care whose daughter she was, she was just gonna' get herself killed.

"You don't know that," she said calmly from across the room. He turned to look at her along with everyone else on the Intelligence team. "You don't know anything about me."

"I know you don't belong in this unit," he snapped, knowing he was being an ass, but not really caring. Thinking about seeing her in harms way just set his teeth on edge.

"Not your call," she fired back.

"Maybe not, but I guaran-damn-tee ya', I'll be the one savin' your ass when this all goes to shit."

"How do you know I won't be the one savin' your ass, Detective Dixon!" she yelled having finally lost her cool.

If he hadn't been so riled up, he would have laughed out loud at that. As it was, Sargent Jones stepped in before things got too out of hand. He instructed Rick to bring Beth up to speed on the particulars of the case and the op. He informed Daryl that he and Beth would be reviewing hand to hand fighting techniques, warning them not to kill each other in the process. He called it "an exercise in building trust." Daryl called it "bullshit."

As it turned out, Beth was quick on her feet and a whole lot stronger than she looked. She met him blow for blow and grunt for grumble. Daryl taught her how to stay low and use her opponent's weight to her advantage. She asked him how he could possibly know what it was like to fight someone twice his size, and he told her about the fights that his brother drug him into when he was just a kid.

Slowly but surely, Beth's good nature wore him down. Daryl opened up more to Beth in the two days they spent training and talking than he had ever opened up to anyone. He was all hard lines and grump to her soft curves and hope. Once she cracked his walls and her light ebbed its way in between those cracks, it was like he couldn't get enough.

"Morning," she said, snatching Daryl from his memories.

Rick greeted her in kind and introduced the big man with the striking orange flat top and matching goatee. "Beth, this is Detective Abraham Ford out of the 15th. Abe, this is Agent Beth Greene with the Bureau."

Abe extended his hand in greeting. "Agent Greene."

Beth took his hand, marveling at how hers completely disappeared beneath his. "Pleasure to meet you, sir. Thank you for letting us look around your crime scene."

One swift nod from Detective Ford and they were moving toward the side of the building where the attack had taken place.

Beth pulled on a pair of latex gloves. "You said he used a syringe?"

"That's correct, m'am. There isn't much physical evidence, but we did get this," Detective Ford said as he knelt down next to a plastic evidence bag with a 3ml syringe inside of it. Beth's heart sped up, reacting to the potential information that clear plastic bag contained. "There's a few drops of blood over there," he said pointing over his shoulder toward the brick wall, "but the crime scene itself is pretty contaminated with foot traffic. One of my guys took the girl's statement at the hospital. She gave him a pretty good description. We're gonna' get a sketch artist with her just as soon as the doctor gives us the okay."

Beth listened as Detective Ford gave her the second hand account of the attack. She looked at the wall where the blood, most likely from their victim, was splattered. Everything around her faded as she tried to visualize the attack in her mind's eye.

She thought about the man who had done this. Could it be their guy? Two women at once was a bold move, but it made sense. He would be desperate.

A cold chill ran down her spine, putting her mind and body on high alert. She turned her head sharply from the crime scene as if someone had called her name. Without a word, she took off across the parking lot toward the street, shedding her latex gloves and increasing her speed from a trot to a full on sprint. The faded black Taurus pulled slowly from its parked position to the middle of the road. Beth skidded to a stop a hundred yards in front of the car, shielding her eyes from the rising sun. Without warning, the engine revved and the tires squealed, smoke rising from beneath them. The Taurus lurched forward, finding its grip on the pavement, and sped toward her. Out of the corner of her eye, Beth saw Daryl leap onto the hood of a nearby car and slide across, landing on his feet in one deft move. She heard her name as it tore from his lips in a desperate growl. The Taurus came to a screeching halt not ten feet in front of her. Daryl continued his charge as the car lept forward again, making a sudden U-turn, sending smoke and rock flying her way. Beth instinctively turned, shielding her face with the back of her hands and squatting low to brace for impact. Daryl slid to a stop next to her still calling her name, and hauled her up, hands flying to her face, turning her head this way and that to assess the damage. Beth swatted at his arms and grabbed two fist fulls of his shirt. "It's him!" she screamed.

"You hurt?"

Beth frowned when his voice cracked. There was no time to worry about her. She needed him to listen, to understand. "Daryl!," she cried, "That was him. He was watching!"

"I believe you! But, first I got to know that you're a'right."

She could have screamed. Of course she was okay. Daryl turned his head and barked at Rick. "That's our guy. Call it in and see if APD can grab him."

Daryl turned back to Beth. She was staring down the road where the Taurus had disappeared. "Damn it!" she screamed to no one in particular. Daryl saw the anger on her face as she paced in front of him. "That was him. I should have known he'd be here. I should have expected him to be here." She stopped suddenly, eyes wide. "We need to make sure the girl... the one that got away... We need to get her into protective custody. He'll want her back. He may get information from her friend... the one he took. We have to keep her safe."

"I'm on it," Detective Ford said as he stepped away to make it happen.

Beth ran her hands through her hair trying to regain some composure. She glanced at Daryl and froze when she saw the look on his face. She knew that look. She had worn that same look the night Daryl had been shot all those years ago.

"You scared the shit out of me, Beth." And just like that, anger replaced fear, and he was ready to fight. "What the hell were you thinkin'?"

"I don't know... I was looking at the crime scene, and I got a feelin', you know? I just... I knew I was bein' watched. I turned around, and I saw the car. I knew it was him. I can't explain it, Daryl. I just knew it was him."

Daryl watched her hands as they flew wildly in the air coming to rest, palms down, on the top of her head. She blew out a frustrated breath and dropped her hands to her sides. Daryl reached for her, surprising them both, and tucked her into his chest. Beth knew it was wrong to want his touch here in this place, at this instant, but she was too weak to fight it. She would allow herself this one fleeting moment of weakness to forget the promise she had made to herself three years ago. The promise to let Daryl Dixon go. What Beth could never have guessed was just how much Daryl needed her in his arms right then too, no matter the consequences.

A/N: So creepy bad guy is up next. Let me know what you think. Too much time hopping between the present and the memories? Don't want it to be confusing! Thanks for reading and reviewing!