Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. The story I tell about Daryl and Beth is my own invention, and it is not purported, or believed, to be part of the Walking Dead story canon. It is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.

This chapter goes out to my homiez Rubiredslippers and EmElleAre55, for their consistently helpful feedback, and to my daughter, Mathilda LaFae, for being a constant source of inspiration to me since the day she came into the world.

Chapter Four

"See ya had yerself some company last night." Abraham said, nodding toward the dead walkers lying in the yard, both with bolts sticking up out of their heads. Beth barely remembered Daryl waking up to dispatch the two wanderers that came through their perimeter during the night. Right after the song, she must have fallen asleep. Daryl hadn't come to bed, and when the walker's had woken them up, she'd seen him slumped against the cabinet, dozing, before he'd darted into action, telling her stay put.

He was gone for less than a minute. When he returned, he told her he was going to stay outside and keep watch. Told her to go back to sleep. And she had. She'd slept, and had the most horrible nightmare, about Daryl getting bit, turning, and her having to put him down.

Though she was standing in the full sunlight, she shivered remembering the dream.

"Nothing we couldn't handle." Daryl answered, quickly collecting his bolts from the walker's skulls.

Abraham laughed, "No doubt. Let me help you get 'em into the pile."

Rosita walked up to Beth while she was watching the men dispose of the corpses. She was holding a small stack of clothes. "Here," she said, "I think we're about the same size."

"Wow," Beth said, "are you sure?"

Rosita nodded and handed her the clothes. Beth liked the girl's smile. She seemed amused by Beth's wonderment over the clothing. "Yeah, I'm sure, they're yours. No offense, but you look like you could use a bath too."

Beth hadn't even thought about the fact that she had been wearing the same clothes for a couple days in a row. She looked down at herself. She was dirty, blood-spattered, and she knew she'd sweated up a storm yesterday. Her hair was probably starting to look like a rats nest. She suddenly felt self-conscious and put her hand up to her hair, trying to run her fingers through it without much success. The other girl must have noticed because she held up a finger, before turning back to the truck and disappearing behind it. Beth nodded at Eugene who was reclining against the front of the truck reading a comic book.

Rosita came back, holding a silver rectangular shaped box. "You can have it. We raided a department store a few months back, and I found a whole case of these babies."

Beth took the box, and opened it up. Inside there was a fancy brush, a comb, a compact mirror, and a toothbrush, all silver. There was also a travel sized tube of tooth paste. "Thank you." Beth said, looking up to meet the girl's chestnut brown eyes.

Rosita waved it off. "Maybe we'll hit a town, or two, on our way to this place your friend is taking us. I sure wouldn't mind some new outfits." She pinched the fabric of her camo pants.

"So you're coming along?"

"Sounds like it."

Beth raised her eyebrows. "Can I ask why?"

Rosita shrugged. "Abraham. He says we're stronger with you, than without even if we have to wait."

"Well, that makes some sense."

The girl nodded slowly. "I just hope your boy was telling the truth."

Beth didn't know if Daryl could necessarily be labeled as her 'boy,' but she secretly thrilled at Rosita calling him that. "Daryl's a man of his word."

Rosita crossed her arms over her chest. "How long have you known him, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Since a few months after the world died."

"Really? That long?"

Beth nodded. What was Rosita getting at? "He's trustworthy. He's saved the lives of about everyone in our group, including me, most of us more than once."

"No offense, but he comes off a little scary."

Beth tried to remember ever feeling scared of Daryl Dixon, intimidated maybe but never scared. Merle had scared her, terrified her actually, and she'd never been able to believe the two men were related. She could understand where Rosita was coming from though. When Daryl was protecting something he cared about, he could be very convincing. "He's rough around the edges, but inside he's good." Beth said, believing the words with all her heart.

Rosita nodded, dropping the subject.

Beth excused herself and went inside the shack. She wiped the grime off her face and neck, brushed her hair, dry brushed her teeth, then looked over the clothing Rosita had given her. None of it was really Beth's style, but they were clean, and almost the perfect size. There was a pair of faded black Capri cargo pants, a black lacy bra - that was a cup size too big, but would work – with the tags still on it, and a black tank top. Rosita had included a camouflage hoodie that would come in handy during the chilly nights, and a pair of clean socks, and underwear.

Beth wanted to kiss the girl. She stripped out of her dirty clothes, and sponged down her body with a rag and a little of the bottled water. She had the new pants and the bra on when the door opened, and Daryl stepped in, shutting it behind him. She froze. He looked up and his eyes grew wide. He lifted his hand in front of his face, and turned away, and she saw the back of his neck turning red. "Dammit, Beth, could warn a guy when you're changing."

"Oops." She said, and she pulled on her shirt. "I'm decent now."

She thought she heard him muttering something like he'd said last night again, about her being the death of him. He turned back in her direction. "So, they're comin.'" He said.

"I know. Rosita told me."

"Genius-boy showed me some maps uh the local area. Got a better idea of where the Governor's hiding out. Headin' there first. Can't drive the truck close or he'll hear it, so we'll park uh mile or two off, then hike the rest uh the way."

"Okay." She replied, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

"And if he's in there…"

"I know. We aren't going to do anything about it." She said. Beth was still feeling a little irritated about Daryl's plans for the Governor. She wanted the man dead and out of her nightmares, so she could have closure, so she could care more about the stuff that she knew should matter more.

"Trust me 'bout this, Beth. Fucker's gonna be on high alert for a while. We're goin' t' do this, we're damn' well goin' t' do it right."

"Daryl. I'm not arguing."

"Yeah, but you got a tone."

She sighed. "I'm sorry. I know you're only looking out for us, doing the smart thing and all. It's just I want it," she made a choking motion with her hands, "so bad."

He raised his eyebrows. "Don't go crazy on me again."

She frowned. "Again?"

He looked pointedly at her wrists. She instinctually placed a hand over each wrist. "All right, all right," she said, knowing what he referring to. He was giving her a disapproving look, and she resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. They hadn't talked about what had happened between them the night before. She didn't know if she was ready for them to yet. She still had a lot on her mind. Like how she was going to get past him trying to be all honorable about her age, like it mattered anymore. Even in the old world, nineteen was considered an adult. Sure, it was a big gap, but she wasn't going to let it keep them apart. "I'll be okay."

"Good," he looked around the shack, "let's get packed."

….

Abraham volunteered Rosita to go with Daryl and Beth, and he stayed to watch over Eugene. Beth understood not wanting to risk the scientist's life, but she thought it was funny how Abe was like a mother hen about protecting his companion.

They parked the truck, and Daryl took point, leading them silently up a forested hill. When they came close to the top of the hill, Daryl held his hand up, stopping them. He pointed ahead, and they saw smoke trailing up through the trees. He pointed at the ground, and ducked down as he walked. They did the same. Then when they reached the top of the hill, they laid down on their bellies, flattened down so they could see the valley below, but couldn't be seen from the cabin nestled inside it.

It was a nice log cabin, surrounded by trees, with a decent sized barn about twenty feet behind it. Daryl pointed at two vehicles parked outside the barn. The place was obviously being lived in. Daryl used two fingers to point at his eyes before pointing down at the ground around the cabin. Beth looked where he was pointing, and inhaled sharply. Someone had dug a trench, at least six foot deep and three feet wide around the entire perimeter of the property. Inside, walkers moaned and scratched at the dirt, trying to climb out. It was a walker moat. She noticed that most of the walkers were shuffling around, but a couple of them had fallen on stakes driven into the ground. They were still moving, but they were held in place by the long barbs of metal protruding from their bodies. "He's in there. Got his fuckin' psycho style all over it." Daryl said, "Looks like he's got some company too."

Sure enough, standing on the porch were two men, carrying automatic weapons. "Those aren't the people that helped him attack the prison, are they?" Beth whispered.

"Dunno. Can't tell this far away. Goin' t' have t' get uh closer look."

Rosita angled to the side, and pulled a pair of binoculars out of her backpack. "Here," she murmured, "Try these."

Daryl looked at Rosita like she was an idiot for not giving him the binoculars before, and took them from her, looking down at the cabin through them. "They look army t' me."

He handed her the binoculars. A quick glance and she was nodding. "Definitely," she said, passing the binoculars to Beth. She accepted them and looked through. Both men were as big as small bears. They were wearing riot gear. One of them had a sizable scar running from his forehead down to his chin. They both looked mean, but the one with the scar gave Beth the chills.

There was a moaning sound close by. "I'm on it," Rosita said, scooting backwards on her belly, and disappearing. The walker sounds continued for about half a minute, and then stopped abruptly.

Beth was looking back for Rosita to return when Daryl nudged her shoulder. "Look," He whispered.

She jerked her head back toward the valley. The front door of the cabin stood ajar, and she inhaled sharply as the familiar form of the Governor strolled out, next to a reedy thin youngish looking man with brown hair. Beth about jumped out of her skin, as Rosita dropped down beside her, "Hey, I know that guy." She hissed, pointing at the man who had come outside of the house beside the Governor.

"Shhh," Daryl said, showing them that there was another man not far below them and getting closer. Probably doing a perimeter check. Daryl indicated it was time for them to go with a swipe of his hand across his neck. They scooted back on their bellies until they were out of sight, then rose and started back down toward the truck.

Beth waited until she was sure they were out of earshot, and looked over at Rosita. "You said you knew that guy. The one in the black overcoat, or the kid?"

Daryl slowed his pace a bit, his ears perking up upon hearing her voice. Rosita was playing with her ponytail with one hand, and holding her rifle with the other. "The kid. We ran into him driving around with some other guy a few weeks back. They were on some kind of medical run. They tried to get us to come with them. Said they had this place they called Terminex or Terminus or something like that. Haven't you two seen the signs up all along the railroad?"

Beth shook her head, looking to see if Daryl had. "We stayed away from the railroad." Daryl answered.

"Oh. Well, there are all these signs telling people 'arrive and survive' or something like that. That guy's name was Gareth. He told us they have this walled community, supposedly safe from walkers. They're broadcasting on the radio, trying to get the word out that people should come and join them."

"What kind of fuckin' idiot would fall for that?" Daryl asked, over his shoulder.

Before Rosita could answer, Beth said. "Daryl some of our people could have gone there."

"Yeah." Daryl growled, moving closer to the two women, holding his bow in front of him with both hands, pointed lazily at the ground. "Got a bad feeling 'bout that."

Beth agreed. If this Gareth was a part of Terminus, and he was meeting with the Governor he was bad news in her book, regardless of the reason. "They can't be up to any good."

Rosita spoke up, nodding. "I agree. I didn't like that guy. He creeped me out being all overly friendly and calm. It was weird. We considered going, trying to use their radio, but Abraham didn't like it either."

Daryl said. "Good thing too, or ya'd probl'y be dead."

Beth inhaled deeply. "Daryl, we need to go check this out."

He stopped, raising the crossbow up and resting it on his shoulder. His eyes cut around the forest, once, twice, before he looked up at her. "We got t' get whole first. We aint no good t' Rick or the others without a plan, without any resources."

"But.."

He held up his hand, stopping her. "Beth, what if we save 'em? Then what? Where we goin' t' bring 'em? Back to the fuckin' prison? Out in the woods? We need a place. We need food. Need to get you ready, look at ya…"

She looked down at herself, and couldn't find anything particularly wrong. "Just what are you trying to say, Daryl?"

"He's saying your weak. You aren't going to survive out here – even with us watching your back – unless you beef up, get some meat on your bones, and learn how to kick some ass. Hate to tell you this, honey, but he's right."

Beth blinked, caught off guard by Rosita's abruptness and insight. Daryl wasn't arguing with Rosita, and Beth felt herself blushing, and hated herself for being the type of girl who blushed so much. Maybe a tan would help cover it up, but right now it gave her embarrassment away. "Hey, hey, hey" Rosita said, walking up slowly – hands out in front of her – and put her arm around Beth's shoulders. "When the shit hit the fan, I was smaller than you are. Fresh out of boot-camp, barely knew how to assemble a weapon, let alone fire one. If it weren't for hooking up with Abe's bunch, I'd be dead right now. Here's what I know, whatever you did before this – you had a purpose – and now that purpose is changing. That's all."

Beth knew what Rosita was talking about. She'd had that same thought herself. It was time to evolve, to stop being so soft, stop thinking and acting like a child or a mom. She couldn't be either of those things anymore. What she needed to become was more animalistic. More instinctual and calculated, more like Daryl or Michonne. "Ya'll just goin' t' stand there and hug or can we get our asses movin'?" Daryl asked, raising his bow and shooting an oncoming walker in the head.

Rosita detached herself from Beth, gave Daryl a dirty look, and took point down the hill.

….

They arrived at the silo at dusk. "Bad timin.'" Daryl said, jumping off the back of the truck, crossbow in his right hand. He immediately raised it, and killed two walkers stumbling toward them.

They had a small window of opportunity to get ready before the rest of the shambling walkers reached them. The property was tucked back behind a row of brush, making it almost impossible to see from where Beth stood, shivering at the back of the truck. "Didn't she give ya a hoodie?" Daryl asked, glancing over at her while he retrieved his bolts.

Beth nodded. "Well put it on then. Sure miss my pancho."

"Miss a lot of things." Beth said. She was fiddling with the safety of the hand-gun Abraham had given her, replacing her old one. She also had a rifle slung over her back, not that she felt confident she could fire it.

"Miss my tools." He answered, and she smiled a little, realizing he was being playful, probably trying to keep her calm.

"Miss my journal."

"Miss my bike."

"Miss showers." She pretended to smell herself.

Daryl gave her a small smile. "Stay alive, and I promise you a shower tonight."

"Really?" She asked, hope filling her voice.

"Uh-huh. You got that body armor on?"

She shook her head. "For the second time, yes."

He just nodded, and held the gun up. "You ready?"

"Ready as I'm gonna be."

"All right. Stay close."

Abraham met them at the side of the vehicle with Rosita and Eugene in tow. The group faced the walled property. They could see the top of a house peeking over the wall. Walkers were wondering around all over the place. "We move as a group, clear a path to the door, clear the inside, and then once we've checked it out, we'll come back up and kill the rest of them. What do you think?" Abraham asked Daryl.

The archer shrugged, "May be better t' let 'em stay, seems their doin' a good job of keeping people away."

Abraham frowned. "Won't be able to get in and out as freely."

"Won't need t' come back up for runs. Place is stocked."

"You know that how?"

Daryl raised the shot-gun Abe had loaned him, and pulled the trigger, exploding the head of a nearby walker. "Jus' do."

Beth watched Abraham raise an eyebrow before shooting another walker in the head. "If you say so, partner."

Daryl nodded, biting his lower lip. "I'll take point. Beth, stay close t' me."

Beth moved in beside Daryl and clenched the gun in her hands, trying to count the number of walkers between their small group, and the above ground structure of the silo. The sun was setting, giving the walker's shadows, which stretched across the open yard, like giant monsters.

….

Beth was covered in blood and guts, having been close to a walker when Daryl shot it in the head. She could smell the rotting flesh and she was having a hard time keeping her lunch down. She was holding Daryl's bow for him, realizing for the first time just how heavy the weapon was.

The five of them were crouched inside the dark house waiting for Daryl to break the lock on the door that lead to the stairs down to the first floor of the underground silo. He was cussing up a storm, and kept looking over his shoulder to check the window. "Don't worry about the window. I got that. Just get us in." Abe insisted.

"Perhaps I can be of some assistance," Eugene said, not for the first time.

"I said give me a minute." Daryl answered, his voice carrying a warning tone Beth recognized as him getting ready to go ape-shit crazy if Eugene didn't shut up.

Suddenly there was a clicking sound, a soft whoosh of air and the door popped open. "Fuckin' finally," Daryl said, and took the bow back from Beth. "I'll go first, you follow me," he told her, nodding back at the others.

The stairs were narrow and dark. The flashlight bounced off the white ceiling where Beth saw faded words she couldn't quite make out. She couldn't see the door in front of them because Daryl's shoulders blocked it from her sight. When he stopped, she ran into his back. "M' sorry."

"Don't worry about it. S' dark. Got your knife ready?"

"Yep."

"Here we go." He pushed hard against the door which opened with a groan. He turned to his left and right, crossbow up. "Come on." He said, holding the door open for them with his foot, then shutting it and locking it behind.

They were in a small, empty cement room that smelled like mildew. Daryl shined the flashlight on another door with a picture of stairs on it.

The next flight of stairs seemed to go down forever. "Almost there. Ya all right?" He asked her, probably hearing her labored breathing. Beth was not a fan of small spaces or being underground. She had lived her whole life on a farm, spending most her days trolling around their wide open spaces, and being this far down, under the earth, felt unnatural to her.

"M' okay, just a little claustrophobic."

"Me too. Try breathin' through your nose."

Come to think of it Daryl did sound pretty uncomfortable as well, and it made sense that he wasn't the type that enjoyed being in a deep, dark hole with all that earth on top of him either. She heard another door groan open and they walked into a room that was not what she was expecting.

The ceilings were high in the big wide-open kitchen and dining area. Daryl's flashlight illuminated a thick layer of dust on all the fancy, modern furniture. There were columns around the room, and places where the natural rock came jutting out of the walls. Two hallways branched off on both sides of the common area. Daryl banged his fist on a tall bronze sculpture and a booming sound echoed around the rooms. They waited, weapons drawn, listening for walkers, but after a full minute of eerie silence, they relaxed.

"Well I'll be damned." Abe said, smiling and turning in a full circle.

"Got t' be access t' the generators on this floor." Daryl eyed the hallway on the left. "Goin' t' look around. Stay put." He said, looking at Beth.

The rest of them went directly to the kitchen. Every cabinet was stocked with dry goods, things Beth hadn't seen in at least a year. She was happily eating a piece of chocolate, grinning at the others as they munched on chocolate too, when the lights in the room blinked to life. Less than a minute later Daryl reappeared from the hallway, stopping when he saw them all looking at him. "Found the power control room," he said, thumbing over his shoulder.

Beth smiled at him as he came to stand next to her, looking down at the chocolate in her hands. "Does this mean hot showers?" She asked, feeling optimistic now that the lights were on.

He gave her a short nod, biting the side of his thumb, and accepted the piece of chocolate she held out to him.

….

Beth sat combing her wet hair and looking in the mirror. Daryl had assigned her the master bedroom, which was the size of the entire first floor of the farmhouse, and he'd taken the room next to hers, which had an adjourning door. They had turned the power off after their showers, wanting to conserve the fuel in the generators for as long as possible. They were already planning a trip down into the rest of the silo to see what was down there, and to find the generators. For now, Beth had some time to be alone, to reflect on how drastically her life had changed in the last couple days.

The candle bathed her milky white skin in a golden light, and she was content staring in the mirror, bouncing her curls, braiding little pieces here and there, humming to herself, and thinking about Daryl Dixon way too much. She could almost hear him whispering her name, could almost feel his hot breath on her neck giving her chills, the way his face scratched her skin, tickling almost. Beth didn't know why something as simple as Daryl whispering her name like that made her feel so special. She also didn't understand how all the little things he did felt so big to her. Monumental. Like it was the first time he'd done them and he'd saved them all this time, just for her. Sighing, she pulled her curls and braids back into the pony tail, and put on the sweats and t-shirt, both a couple sizes too big for her, that she'd found in the bureau door.

She ambled over to the bookshelf, running her fingertips over the dusty layer on the obviously unread books. She found herself wondering about the people who chose the books, and if they ever had any intention of reading them. Several titles – in particular – drew her attention. There were four books about the katana sword. She looked up and her hand rose to her mouth. Above the books – on the next shelf up – in a glass display case sat a Samurai sword.

She moved a chair over and stood on it, carefully opening the case and extracting the weapon. The minute her hands wrapped around the handle a surge of adrenaline rushed through her. The handle was black, matching the leather scabbard. Carefully, with trembling hands, she pulled the sword out of the sheath, hearing that familiar ringing sound that always came when Michonne was getting ready to take out a walker.

The door burst open. She turned to see Daryl, knife in hand. "What the fuck?" He said, taking in Beth, standing there with the katana.

"You heard me draw it, from all the way in the other room?"

He reached a hand up and scratched his head, giving her a little nod. He approached, his blue eyes giving the katana a reverent inspection. She smelled soap on him, and cigarette smoke – he must have found a stash of smokes somewhere in the house. His hair was a little wet, sticking to his forehead a bit, and there were still drops of condensation on his bare shoulders. He was wearing a flannel shirt, cut off at the shoulder, and a pair of black denim jeans. "Good hearing." He said, gesturing to his ear.

"I'll say. Look what I found."

"That's weird." He said, taking the sword from her, and chewing on his lip.

She cocked her head. "Why?"

"Just is, aint it? You findin' this sword, seems like some kind of fucked up poetic justice, or somethin.'"

She gave him a puzzled look. "An ironic twist of fate?" He tried.

"Okay, I see what you're saying…like me taking vengeance on my daddy's killer with the same kind of weapon he killed my daddy with is kind a like…destiny."

"Pfft, got me, but it's definitely weird."

She nodded in agreement. "So do you think I should do it?"

"Do what?"

"Kill the Governor with this sword."

He shrugged, looking down at the sword in his hands. "Way Michonne talked, it takes years to learn how to use it proper."

"There are some books," Beth said, pulling the titles off the shelf and handing them to him. He looked over them before tossing them on the fancy loveseat.

"Got an exercise room perfect for training in."

The optimism in his voice gave her some hope for herself. She beamed at him. He handed her the sword back, dipping his head down low. "Daryl, thank you." She said, hearing her voice heavy with emotion.

"For what?"

"For believing in me, I guess."

Rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, he looked over at the door. "Genius-boy's been talkin' shit 'bout cookin' something. I aint optimistic, but I could eat. You?"

She was about to tell him she wasn't hungry at all when she remembered what Rosita had said about 'beefing up' but she didn't really want to put down the sword, not so soon after discovering it. Looking down at her own wrists, she saw the outline of her bone underneath the black bracelets she used to hide her scars. She set the sword on the bookshelf, grabbed one of the books – about the history of the Samurai sword – and followed Daryl out to the common area.

….

"You look tired, Beth."

"No offense, but so do you."

Daryl and Beth had the common area to themselves. She hadn't seen him all day, and she was happy just to sit back and watch him, but conversation felt nice too. Daryl and Abraham had spent the entire day scouting out the six floors below the one they were living in. The top floor was the only part of the structure that had been remodeled for residential use. They found the generators on the fourth floor down, and enough fuel to last for a while, though Daryl was already talking about making a run for more to ensure they would get through the winter months.

He was sitting in an over-stuffed arm-chair, legs propped up on the footstool, the bow layin' on the table closest to his right hand. Though he looked tired, there was a restlessness about him that was strong enough to charge the air. She was browsing in the Katana book, her socked feet tucked beneath her.

While Abe and Daryl were below, Rosita had taken it upon herself to start Beth on what Rosita called "Rosi's boot-camp" which consisted of a whole bunch of cardio, weight training and exercise. Eugene, noticing her book on the katana, had surprised Beth by declaring himself an expert on the Japanese weapon. He told her to quiz him from her book, and she was delighted to discover that he did know as much – if not more – than what was in the book. He'd already showed her several techniques and she'd spent hours, alone while Gene and Rosi were napping, practicing the motions.

As a result, Beth's muscles ached. She had almost asked Daryl to flip the power on so she could take a hot shower. Instead, she contented herself with rubbing her own shoulder, rotating it in the socket and trying to loosen it up as she read silently to herself.

"Sore?" He asked, breaking at least five minutes of silence. He'd been watching her read through semi-cracked eyes.

She nodded. "A little."

He chuckled. "Give it uh few days. Body'll get used t' it."

"How 'bout you? Climbing all those stairs."

He shrugged. "S'nothin'."

Her heart was racing as she worked up the nerve to ask him something. "Mama had early stage scoliosis. Never let anyone touch her back but me."

He frowned, his lips forming into a thin line but he didn't argue, just grunted. She took that as a 'yes' and got up quick, not wanting to give him time to change his mind. He sat forward, looking awkward as she stepped up onto the ottoman, then onto his chair climbing into the seat, crouching down behind him. She felt him instantly tense up, and his shoulder muscles twitched when she put her hands on them. "Beth…" He said, shifting a little.

"Hush," she told him, finding the first knot in his shoulder and pressing her fingers down into it, rubbing hard to break-up the tough tissue. At first, it was like working with hard clay, but as the knots came out she felt him relaxing back between her legs, his weight coming back on her. Then he did something unexpected. She felt his hot, calloused hands wrap around her calves and he pulled her legs forward. They came to rest on each side of his hips. He started rubbing her calves, and she moaned inadvertently, feeling the tension seeping out of her beneath his big, scorching hands. Then, he was turning slightly, and pulling her in front of him. Like her weight was nothing, he lifted her onto the ottoman in front of his chair – with her back facing him. She felt him sit forward, and his knees came up on both sides of her. He brushed her hair aside, his knuckles sweeping against her skin – his breath on the back of her naked and exposed neck, sending chills down the length of her spine. He rubbed her shoulders, then her upper back, and the sides and back of her neck. Something deep inside started aching, and it was all she could do to keep from moaning. Instead, she bit her bottom lip, tasting blood.

When he stopped, she couldn't help sighing, and leaning back against his chest. Hot hands clamped on her shoulders, and spun her around to face him. His eyes were like moonlight reflected in glacial pools, all dark and shimmering. The fringe of his bangs cut over them, casting his face in shadow. She noticed he was breathing deep. His hands dropped from her shoulders and dug into the tops of her thighs, and he pulled her, and the ottoman, forcibly forward until she was right between his legs. The muscles in his neck strained, and he was chewing fiercely on his bottom lip, looking like he was contemplating something real hard. He swallowed, and slowly peeled his hands off her thighs, fastening them, instead, on the ottoman on both sides of where she was perched. "Stop me." He said, his voice trembling.

She swore there was something predatory about the way his eyes hovered on her bare shoulders, and on her swollen lip still wet with blood from her biting it during the massage. Something about that look made her insides tighten with desire. "Why?" She asked, almost not recognizing her own voice, low and husky. Her entire body vibrating as she restrained herself from touching him.

He inhaled deeply, and his pupils seemed to dilate for a second, before he squeezed his eyes shut and lowered his head, exposing the smooth curve of the back of his neck – where she noticed a tiny mole she'd never seen before – and the tan muscles of his back. "'Cause I can't seem t' stop myself." He whispered, his voice muffled but the words clear enough.

He was still all locked up around her, and he looked up again, his face inches from her own, his eyes making her feel like she was melting. She had two choices. Kiss him full on the lips, or stop him for his own sake, his own sanity. "All right, if that's what you need." She said, drawing back, knowing she had to put distance between them if she was going to follow through. Something about the way he was begging her to stop him, the way he was opening up to her, reminded her how deeply she cared for him, and his emotional well being. Beth had never wanted someone so bad, but she would wait if he couldn't handle it yet. She didn't want him regretting being with her in that way. Maybe time was the key, and she had the feeling they were going to have plenty of time on their hands, tucked away in their little bunker. She nullified her answer, looking him boldly in the eyes. "I can be patient, Daryl. Just don't pretend like there isn't something happening between us. Don't go back into your shell."

He looked at her with what she thought was newfound respect, and a tenderness crept across his tortured expression. Inhaling deeply, he sat back. She noticed his knuckles were white where he gripped the chair with his hands. "Never cease t' amaze me, Miss Greene."

She smiled, and couldn't help sighing at the cold spot around her where his warmth had just been. "Never gonna stop trying, Mr. Dixon."

….

A/N: This chapter was a good lesson for me about leaving well enough alone. I must have played with it for three or four days, trying to get it right. What do you think? How did I do? I'm finding it a fun challenge to have Beth grow, without deviating too much from who she is on the show.

Reviews keep me writing so if you're enjoying this story and you want to see more, please take a minute to give me a review.

Next chapter should be up in a few days. It's already finished, and I'm sending it off to my awesome beta-readers today.

Thanks!