I am so, so overwhelmingly grateful for the amount of support this story has received! So as usual, with the greatest amount of thanks that can be put into words, a hurricane of gratitude to DarylDixon'sLover, Dixongurl, An Amber Pen, cherrywineBA, delenamashed, Atilia Dawn Black, TWDFan05, Erika, Guest, sillymommy2010, Scifigirl22, JElysha11, goshbirdie, ledanna, Kshawbee, sammxhill, MamaDCB, rebecca taylor, Emma Kellog, A-cat-in-the-dark, McAlice92, deedee014, jbolinex, EmLouD, Jesspanda, PolkaDotSocks93, TWD, Aeralyse, ignatz, Nacha, kevkye, Arabella, and FebruarySong for your incredible, all inspiring comments left for the previous chapter! And much thanks to those who have alerted and favorited as well! Now enough of my chatter, onto the next installment!

Chapter four:

It was the same, familiar surge of adrenaline that Daryl Dixon remembered distinctly from the early days of the outbreak. When he had no place to call shelter and being nomadic was the only form of survival that was readily available. The man still knelt before him on the ground, weeping softly as Beth continued to hold him in place. The archer glanced behind him, back to the entrance of the unfinished home. His mind was a blur, thoughts being fired simultaneously as he tried to formulate a plan. And before he realized it, he had begun to run, legs carrying him back into the structure where his crossbow waited against the wall. He grabbed it, throwing the heavy weapon over his shoulder before stepping back into the open.

"Where are you goin'?" He heard Beth call out, feeling her stare burn into the back of his neck as the distance grew between them. "Daryl!"

"Go on back to the house," he called. "Tell 'em to lock the door."

"I'm not leavin' you!" She exclaimed, abandoning her position by the frightened man's side in favor of the bowman. "I won't let you go alone."

He momentarily paused in his tracks, eyes meeting the girl's. Beth gazed back at him, expression firm and stance unwavering. There was no fear in her features, no hesitation to be seen masking her face. Briefly, Daryl forgot that this woman was his wife. That he'd only known her for a week. That the cheerful, hopeful girl he'd begun to become acquainted with had suddenly disappeared, replaced by a figure that understood survival. Who wasn't afraid to fight. Didn't cower at the mention of danger. Had a strength to her that only now was beginning to become apparent to the archer. He inhaled, teeth baring down on the inside of his cheek until the sour taste of blood melted across his taste buds.

"I'm not leavin' you," she repeated.

His shoulders slumped slightly in defeat, his ability to argue against her reasoning dissipating. "Keep up," he muttered, eyes flickering to the path ahead of them. "I ain't gonna be no babysitter."

Daryl could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage as he and Beth hurried down the asphalt walkway. Blood pulsated through his veins, thudding against his eardrums as the distant sound of a bell ringing managed to break its way through the unnerving noise. Warning system. The memory of being informed of the various alerts the town used vaguely graced the archer's mind as he continued to head towards what was most likely impending danger. It was stupid really, resorting to loud noises when walkers best responded to auditory simulation. But other interests trumpeted the thoughts of how, in more ways than less, Hurndon could improve as a community in whole. Morgan was at the northern wall and though he and Daryl were far from close, the archer felt obligated to assist him, knowing the man would do the same if the roles were reversed.

"Got anythin' on you," he panted, not looking to Beth as they approached the breached location. "Knife. Gun. Anythin' you can damn well use to protect yourself?"

"No," she admitted, her tone somewhat sheepish. "Didn't think bringin' you lunch would turn into a fight with walkers."

He exhaled heavily at her response, aggravation briefly sweeping over him. Though it was far from Beth's fault, he still found annoyance in the fact that she was more than willing to aid in the situation despite being unprepared. However, the thought soon slipped from his mind as his vision caught sight of the scene before them. From the slope they stood on, the unfinished section of the northern wall lay before them. But where it normally was secured with scrap metal and planks of wood, a gap seemed to have formed where the reinforcement had given way. Creating a small, but wide enough entrance to the outside world.

Walkers, at least ten or twelve based on the archer's rough count, had already slipped through. They moved as if their bodies were weighed down by some unknown force. Bony, leprous fingers reaching forward towards the workers that were armed with nothing more than a few hammers and shovels. Daryl tugged the crossbow from his shoulder, loading and releasing an arrow into one of their skulls as the creature attempted to claim a victim. The man he'd saved stumbled backwards, looking to Daryl in gratitude before his attention was immediately drawn back to the scene before them.

"Stay up here," he growled to Beth, adjusting another arrow into his bow as he moved towards the heart of the commotion.

Managing to retrieve his previously fired arrow, Daryl found himself amidst the raging battle. Walkers stumbled across the pavement, meeting the thrusts of shovels and hammers from the underprepared workers. Out of the corner of his eye, the archer caught sight of Morgan, the man bringing the head of his makeshift weapon down onto a walker's skull. Their eyes briefly met, Morgan's expression hard as he withdrew the shovel's blade from the corpse's body.

"Get to the wall," he shouted to Daryl. "Gotta close it before it draws more in!"

They moved in sync, getting to the wall's opening at the same moment. Daryl swung his bow over his shoulder, watching as Morgan bent down to lift up a large piece of timber from the ground. Together they thrust it against the entrance, grunting as three walkers leaned heavily on it from the outside. Daryl's feet dug into the road, his muscles protesting as he tried to overpower the hungry creatures. Someone approached from the opposite side, Morgan's shouts of direction seeming muffled as other men tried to aid in the closing of the hole.

Daryl was rendered vulnerable, preoccupied with the reinforcement as a walker staggered towards him. As it grabbed for him, Daryl finally catching sight of the figure, its movements were immediately ceased when a hammer came smashing down on its head. Blood spattered, hitting the archer across the neck as it sunk to the ground. Before him, much to Daryl's astonishment and disbelief, stood Beth. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, a hammer gripped in her slender hand as she met the archer's gaze. As he opened his mouth to utter a statement, the sound of gunfire filled the air. One by one the remaining walkers fell, confusion sweeping across both Daryl's and Beth's features as they looked towards the source of the killings.

There, standing in the spot where they once had stood, were five members of the government's guard. Their leader-Gordon, if memory served the archer correctly-looked down at the others with such disdain, Daryl half wondered if perhaps they too would be shot. He moved forward, mouth drawn into a deep frown as he looked around at the sight that lay before him. No questions as to if anyone was alright. No sign of concern. His eyes narrowed, expression dark as he cleared his throat.

"Which one of you dumbasses is in charge of this project?" He barked, looking from each individual construction worker. "Whose damn fault is this?!"

No one said a word, all eyes remaining on Gordon as he began to pace around the area, purposely stepping on a walker's body as he went. Daryl glanced to Beth out of the corner of his eye, his hands finally falling from the wall's makeshift barrier as he moved closer beside her. Since he'd arrived at Hurndon, there had been no accidents that involved walkers. Or really, incidents of any nature occurring.

"I'm not gonna ask again," the man hissed, fury bubbling in his tone as he looked at the group. "Which one of you is in charge?!"

Silence still hung over the individuals, many of whom adverted their eyes from the authoritative figure. Then slowly, Daryl watched in horror as Morgan stepped forward. Gordon looked to the other man, rage shadowing his expression as Morgan stood before him, face completely void of any emotions. Without warning, Gordon strode forward and, retrieving his pistol from its holster, struck the unsuspecting man hard across the face. Morgan's knees gave way and he immediately collapsed to the ground, his breath sounding uneven and wet as he inhaled sharply. Daryl tried to lung forward, but a look from his housemate told him to do otherwise.

"We've been nearly two years without an incident," Gordon growled, knocking his foot hard against Morgan's stomach. "Over two hundred citizens and your laziness just put every single one of them at risk! We give you shelter, food, a life, and you repay us by letting in a bunch of goddamned rotters?!"

Daryl's nails dug into the flesh of his palm as he watched Morgan ruthlessly get beaten. The man didn't even seem to react, just took the abuse without so much as a noise. Beside him, he felt something curl around his wrist. Glancing down, he noticed Beth's hand was gripping him. Whether to hold him back or for her own comfort, he wasn't sure. But no words escaped from her lips as they all silently watched Morgan's punishment.

"Let that be a lesson to all of you," Gordon hissed, pointing his gun towards the crowd of spectators. "We don't take fuck-ups here kindly. Your friend is lucky the government forgives first time offenders. Otherwise, we might not have been so kind." His stare traveled down to the wounded man, saliva and blood streaming out of the corner of Morgan's mouth. "Get 'im up," he spat, looking to the other four guardsmen. "An' take 'im to the detention center. Records'll wanna document this."

"Ya can't do that," Daryl suddenly snarled, stepping forward despite Beth's grip around his arm. "He ain't done nothin' wrong!"

"Don'," he heard Morgan mumble weakly, his voice slightly off as if his nose had been broken. "Don', get Beff 'ome."

"An' who the hell are you," Gordon growled, momentarily abandoning his position beside Morgan to step towards Daryl. "Got somethin' ya wanna say?"

"Daryl," Beth insisted from his side. "C'mon."

"Should listen to your woman," he muttered, lips twisting into a cruel smile as his stare redirected to Beth. "Pretty little thang. Don't seem fittin' to be with someone like you..."

"Don't be lookin' at her," Daryl hissed, voice raised as he glared at Gordon. "You think you're all high and mighty cause you're part of the government? Ain't nothin' more than a frilly little bitch who does what he's told."

The smile faded from Gordon's mouth at Daryl's words. He leaned in close, face only centimeters from the archer's. Daryl could faintly smell the sickening sweet odor of what he could only guess was green apple or some other type of odd hard candy as the guard breathed into his face. Beth's fingers tightened around his wrist, his heart rate increasing as the urge to beat the living shit out of the man grew stronger.

"Better watch what you're sayin', boy," he whispered, his voice cold. "You wanna join your friend over there? I'd be more than happy to give you a one way ticket."

"Daryl," Beth murmured, her nails almost painfully digging into his flesh. "Let's go."

Perhaps if he'd been alone. If he hadn't anything else to worry about. Daryl would've taken the son of a bitch on without a second thought. But he wasn't by himself now. Beth standing at his side, fear slipping into her voice where confidence had once rang. He inhaled, resentment twisting around in his gut as he turned away against his real desire, hearing Beth exhale in relief as they began to walk in the opposite direction of Gordon and the rest of the group.

"That's right," he heard Gordon shout back. "You jus' walk away an' remember you ain't worth shit here. I'm the damn authority now an' you do best to remember that!"

Daryl shrugged away from Beth's hold as they approached the house, his body trembling slightly out of pure anger as he shoved the front door open. Jenny, who had been nearby, jumped at the unexpected sound. Relief flooded across her features when she saw who it was, a smile gracing her expression as she hurriedly approached the two residents, seeming to peer over their shoulders as if she expected someone else.

"Where..." her voice faded, worry crossing her expression. "Where's Morgan?"

Daryl pushed past them, leaving Beth to explain the situation as he trudged up the steps. Hatred and rage coiled together in the pit of his stomach as he thrust open the attic hatch and clambered inside. Though Morgan hadn't done anything wrong, Daryl still felt displeasure towards the other man. Morgan hadn't fought back. Whatever his reasoning behind not doing so was, he hadn't defended himself. Guilt began to grow inside of the archer as he took a seat on the edge of Beth's bed, letting his crossbow fall to the ground without any regards to its safety. Gordon. To hell with Gordon. Daryl chewed on the inside of his cheek, fists clenched painfully together as he stared at the opposite wall.

Time passed. How much, the bowman was unsure. But he didn't turn his head when he heard the attic door reopen or when the sound of Beth's footsteps met his ears. She sat down beside him, remaining silent for a few moments as Daryl continually stared at the wall. They wouldn't kill Morgan. At least, not on purpose, but the chance he would return home tonight was slim to none. Especially if the way the archer had acted would negatively impact the other man.

"I spoke to Jenny," Beth finally murmured, breaking the silence. "Donna and Allen are with her now. She's...okay," there was a brief pause. "Well, hangin' in there at least."

Something sloshed from Beth's lap, Daryl's eyes momentarily leaving the wall to look at what it was. A jar of moonshine, something he'd been keeping for himself in the back of the cupboard. How she'd managed to find it, he wasn't sure. His mouth twisted into a frown, gaze returning to the wall. He heard Beth unscrewing the top, his muscles tensing as he drew in a breath.

"Don't be messin' with things that ain't yours," he grumbled. "You ain't need that shit anyway."

"I brought it for you," Beth said, laying the top on an open spot on the mattress. "Came across it downstairs. I recognized the smell. Daddy always did like his alcohol." She paused, inhaling deeply. "Thought maybe we could share it? I've never tried liquor before, but after today...I thought it would be good as any."

"You ain't even of age," Daryl muttered, realizing how stupid those words now were. "You ain't gonna like it anyway, stuff's strong."

"It doesn't hurt to try," she mumbled, swirling the liquid inside of the mason jar. "I just...need to forget for a little while."

Before he could advise her otherwise, Daryl turned his head in time to see Beth bring the glass past her lips. She took a sip, much larger than he would have suggested, and watched in slight amusement as her features scrunched together. She brought the jar back to her lap, shaking her head in disgust before holding it out towards him. After a moment, he took it, taking his own sip before she finally found her words again.

"That," she coughed. "Was really gross."

"Don't say I ain't tried to warn you," he shrugged, glancing down to the jar. "It ain't no peach schnapps, this stuff's strong."

The corners of Beth's mouth formed a small smile as he held it out towards her again. To his surprise, she took it, taking in another sip before passing it back. They went back and forth like that for a few minutes, Daryl noticing the girl's stupor slowly begin to set in. He too was beginning to feel the effects, the burning not as bad as it had been since his first swallow. Warmth had begun to spread throughout his body, a false sense of comfort finding him. As he looked to Beth, he couldn't help but notice the sorrow in her eyes, hands trembling in her lap as she avoided his gaze.

"They'll kill you," she whispered. "They'll kill you and I'll..."

"What're you talkin' about?" He mumbled, half wondering if it was Beth's drunken state talking to him. "You ain't makin' sense."

"No," she nodded vigorously, finally meeting his eyes. "No, I am. The Common Law. Daryl, you saw what happened to Morgan today-"

"Stop," Daryl muttered, knowing where she was going. "Jus' stop right there."

"They won't hesitate," she whispered, her voice wavering as she spoke. "I won't let them do that to you. I won't."

"Jus' shut up, Beth," he nearly shouted, causing the girl to stiffen in surprise. "Jus' shut the hell up! I ain't gonna do that to you. We'll figure this out." Desperation was beginning to slip into his tone, the emotions and memories of today mixing with the alcohol he had consumed. "Let's run away."

Confusion masked the girl's expression. "Huh?"

"Let's jus' run away," he repeated, meeting her stare. "Tonight. We can slip out at the northern wall. Get a few hours ahead before they even notice that we're gone." He stood up, stumbling as he made his way across the room in search of a pack. "We can leave here. Worry about the walkers later. Then you don't gotta worry any about the Common Law."

"Daryl..."

He ignored the sound of her voice as he continued to search for a pack. They'd take a few clothes, maybe some food, and be gone by nightfall. He had his crossbow, a few arrows, they'd make it. They had before they were here, surely they could do it again. As he knelt down to grab a handful of his own belongings, he felt something rest on his shoulder. He turned, struggling to do so, only to look up to see Beth. She stared back at him, the sorrow in her features almost painful to him.

"We can't leave our friends," she mumbled. "I...I can't leave Sasha and Adam. And what if they got in trouble because we left? I won't be responsible for someone else gettin' hurt." Her fingers curled around his shoulder, the archer struggling to even look at her now. "Daryl," she breathed. "Please."

Anger soon was swallowed up by guilt as Daryl forced himself to meet Beth's eyes. She was right. As much as he hated to think so, they couldn't leave those who meant something. The Joneses. Beth's friends. Allen and Donna. Carol. The archer inhaled sharply, his mind foggy from alcohol and uncertainty. No one should have to be forced into this. This was so cynical. So morbidly wrong on many levels. But Beth was right. They had no choice. They'd lost such so long ago.

"Alright," he whispered in defeat. "Okay."

He felt Beth's arms wrap around him, the embrace almost foreign as he continued to kneel there on the ground. He couldn't move. Couldn't bring himself to function. He barely knew her and she him. And yet, now they were being propelled into a life that neither of them had anticipated on. Daryl didn't shy away from her touch, letting her continue to hug him. Thoughts of Morgan. Of the Common Law. All intertwining in his mind. As the sun set beyond the horizon, darkness found its way into the atmosphere. And with it came the longest night in both Daryl's and Beth's lives.

Really long chapter, there was a lot I wanted to convey. And yes, Gordon was the cop guy from "Slabtown" that tried to rape Beth. Considering changing the story's rating to "M". If you have a preference, please let me know. I hope you enjoyed this installment. It was a little more difficult to write so I hope I conveyed everything okay. There's a lot I could say and explain, but I'm not going to. So I will say, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated. It seriously keeps this story going and the updates coming. Let me know if there is anything you'd like to see, maybe I can make it happen. And I will see you folks for the next update! -Jen