Beth felt absolutely helpless. She hated that there was nothing she could do to help Daryl. Nothing she could say to make him feel safe and protected. Knowing about his past, his childhood, it broke her heart that he was forced to go through more hardships, more struggles just to live and now Merle was coming back to ruin things for him all over again.

She racked her brain, thinking of any way she could help him. Maybe Rick? Sure, he was a sheriff, maybe something could be done, but how would she even begin to explain this to him? Not to mention her daddy, chances are Rick would tell him his youngest daughter was in contact with an older man who was in cahoots with possible criminals. And there was no way that would end well.

How would she explain how they met? Considering Daryl lived three hours away, it wouldn't be any easy story to fabricate, if they ever met at all. Would they meet? It was something she'd been rolling around in her mind the past couple of days, especially at night when she'd find herself reaching for him, singing to him softly, trying to ease his clouded mind. It was really almost like he was there with her already, that's what was so strange about it.

Did Daryl feel this way too? Beth knew he must have because at this point she felt it radiating through her body. There was nothing more she wanted than to talk to him, share with him, get to know every part of him. Things had already changed, she knew that. Once Merle arrived, things were bound to become even more different.

"Yer thinkin' too much," he chimed in, no longer looking worried or concerned.

"I can't help it," Beth huffed.

"Ain't got nothing to worry 'bout, Beth. We'll figure it out," he tells her.

"I wish you'd let me do something," she sighed, sitting in the rocking chair beside Judith's crib.

Friday night was Lori and Rick's date night permitting he didn't have to work through the night. She didn't mind the extra time with Judith and they always tipped her extra for it, so that was a plus.

"Ain't nothin' you can do but promise me ya won't worry," Daryl says.

"I'll try, alright?" Beth exhaled deeply, trying to relax and expel the thoughts from her mind.

"Good. What you up to tonight, girl? Sleepover with the munchkin?" he smirked, popping the cap off of a beer with a lighter.

"Nah, just staying later while her momma and daddy go out to dinner," Beth says.

"Hope they're payin' ya extra fer that," he said, taking a gulp of beer.

"You worried I'm not making enough money, huh?" Beth smirked at him.

"Just don't want nobody takin' advantage of ya. Yer a kid, shouldn't be stuck watchin' a baby all day. She got parents, don't she?" Daryl scoffs.

"It's not like that, Daryl. I don't mind it at all. I like being a nanny, it was better than helping at my daddy's veterinary office. Judy is a real sweet baby, anyways."

"You don't wanna go to school or somethin', travel?" Daryl mused, feeling the beer already making him looser, the questions flowing more freely.

"I thought about going away to school but my parents wouldn't let me. For a while they said it was because of the money, but after a while I think they wanted to keep me close," Beth sighs, remembering what a battle it had been trying to get her parents to let her apply to schools out of state. Of course he'd said no.

She shrugs, looking a little sad suddenly, glancing over at the sleeping infant.

"M' sorry, girl. I wasn't tryin' to upset ya or nothing," Daryl mumbles.

"It's okay, Daryl. You didn't," Beth says softly.

They're both quiet for a moment, Daryl drinking his beer, Beth rocking back and forth. Neither of them really thinking, just enjoying each other's company in the silence.

"Sometimes, I think my Daddy doesn't know any better than to smother me like this. Everybody always said they coddled me my whole life, but they never really gave me a choice, you know?"

"That ain't fair," Daryl says bluntly, "yer too fuckin' young to have somebody holdin' ya down like that. Should be able to do whatever the fuck ya want," he growls angrily.

"My sister has always fought our father tooth and nail over everything, I think he told himself he'd never give me the chance to fight back," she tells him.

"Beth," he says, biting his thumbnail, eyes a dark storm, "ya know my old man was a piece of shit, but what yers is doin' to ya ain't any better, is it? 'S just different."

"No, I know he loves me but-"

He cuts her off, his words sharp but dense, slicing through her thoughts. "Lovin' somebody don't mean ya get to chain 'em down and keep 'em from growin' and livin' their lives, does it?"

"I guess I never really thought about it like that," Beth says softly.

"Not sayin' ya gotta stand up to 'em or nothin', but know it's normal to wanna do things on yer own. Ya ain't a little girl, Beth," Daryl says, taking another sip of beer for liquid courage, finishing it off.

"Thank you, Daryl. Sometimes I think it takes somebody else, looking at things from another perspective, ya know?" She smiles at him, her cheeks flushed in the soft light coming from the baby's night light.

The apples of her cheeks are rosy, making her eyes pop a sapphire blue, sparkling so clearly in his view. So blue they take his breath away. Her smile pulled into a grin, her small pixyish face more gorgeous than any girl, any woman he's even known. It's strange, her face is so familiar to him now, burned into his memory, etched into his eyelids like a tattoo. Maybe it's the beer getting to his head but, he knows there's no other way he'd rather have it.

She was wearing a pair of jeans and sneakers as usual, a plain grey t-shirt and a soft pink cardigan, but Daryl swears he's never seen her look more beautiful. For being so tiny, her legs are miles long, slender hips he'd often thought about wrapping his arms around.

"Daryl?" Beth whispers, getting up from the rocking chair and closing the dooring behind her quietly.

"Sorry," he mumbles, not realizing he'd been staring. Or at least, not realizing she'd caught him.

"How many beers have you had?" she laughs softly, bringing her hand to her mouth. "Be careful, Daryl. You know I'll feel that."

"Only a couple. Ya ain't ever drank before?"

"No, I'm not twenty-one!" Beth gasps as if that's such a crime and now they're both giggling.

Daryl had been drinking far before his twenty-first birthday. Beth being so naive made him chuckle all the while more.

"Don't gotta be of age to drink," he grins, getting up from the couch to grab another. "Mind if I have one more?"

"You better be careful. I gotta drive home and I don't want Rick and Lori coming home finding me drunk as a skunk! You know I'll feel it!" Beth says, shaking her head.

"Relax, girl. Only gonna have one more. 'Course yer definitely gonna feel these if ya ain't never drank before," Daryl mumbles in amusement.

"I think I already do?" she laughs, putting her hands in front of her face.

"You'd know if you did, trust me." he says, shaking his head and taking a large drink of the next beer.

"You know, Maggie drank before she was twenty-one all the time. My daddy used to catch her when she was a teenager," Beth laughs, laying down in what he assumes to be a guest bedroom, baby monitor in her hands.

"Oh yeah?" Daryl smirks.

"Yeah," she says, "one time he was doing some gardening and found a flask full of whiskey in the bushes. He was so mad she got grounded for three whole months. I'd never seen her cry so much in my whole life."

"Nice," he says, shaking his head.

"I feel weird. Kind of floaty," she says softly.

"Yeah?" he mumbles, watching her reaction carefully.

"Uh huh," Beth says, nodding her head and smiling.

"What do ya think? Ya like it?" he asks.

"It's better than cigarettes," she laughs closing her eyes, relaxing into the pillows behind her.

Reaching a hand up to untie the braid in her hair, her fingers comb through her hair, wild and wavy, cascading down her shoulders. It's longer now than he's seen it in past visions, even when she was younger.

Daryl feels a little guilty, staring at her like this but at the moment, he absolutely can't help it. Sprawled out on the bed like that, stretching her arms high above her head, her shirt lifting up exposing a small sliver of creamy, pale skin.

Continuing to rake her fingers through her hair, she scratches her scalp.

"Mmm, I know you feel that, Daryl Dixon," Beth giggles, and he does, he feels her tiny hands, the pads of her fingers, her nails. He feels it all.

"Yeah, I feel it," he smiles, laying back and enjoy her touch, buzzing from the beer, from her touch.

"Feels good, huh?" she asks.

"Mmhm," he grumbles, letting out a deep moan in his throat.

"Why don't you ever cut your hair, hmm?" Beth hums.

"Don't like it, waste a money gettin' haircuts," he shrugs, trying to find a way to lean into her touch, if he even knew how.

"I'd give ya one. Cut Shawn and my daddy's hair all the time."

"Naw, what if ya did a bad job? Then I'd be stuck with ya in my head forever," Daryl teases, laughing deep from his chest.

"Hey! My momma taught me and I've never had any complaints so far. I'd give you a great haircut, Daryl Dixon," she scoffs, stopping the scratching to stick her tongue out at him.

"We'll see about that. After that you'd probably give me a bald spot."

"No way, I like your hair way too much to do something like that," she says, smiling softly.

Daryl can't help but blush, feeling awkward. The small amount of alcohol left them both feeling buzzed, this new experience for Beth making her feel strange. Not in a bad way, but certainly unfamiliar.

"Think we could have a real drink some day?" she asks, her voice hazy.

"Whatcha mean, girl? Beer ain't a real drink?" Daryl responds quizzically.

"No, I mean, like we'd both drink one, together," Beth says quickly as if she's afraid she might regret it, biting her lip.

"In person?" Daryl asks, taken aback.

He hadn't actually thought about the possibility of meeting her in person. It was something that he'd thought about a couple times, her only living three hours away but her bringing it up made this real. Not just like some shared secret between them.

"Well, yeah. That's what I was hopin'," she laughed softly, looking at him from under bent bashes, her doe-like eyes piercing his vision.

"After all this Merle shit settles, maybe I could ride over one Saturday or somethin'," Daryl says, shrugging, suddenly feeling awkward.

"Is that something you'd want to do, Daryl? 'Cause I'd really like that," she says, rolling over on her side, bunching up a pillow underneath her head.

"Yeah, I'd come see ya, Beth," he grins, trying to hold back a full on smile, taking another swig of beer to occupy his mouth.

"Yeah?" she asks, beaming.

"Yeah, said I would," Daryl laughs, shaking his head.

"I'd really, really like that, Daryl," she gushes, her eyes looking more glassy now.

"Ya sure yer daddy wouldn't mind me comin' round though?" he asks hesitantly, unsure of his words, unsure of the situation. He forgets how young she is, how sweet and naive. Daryl thinks he must look like a bumbling idiot to her half the time.

"He wouldn't have to know, would he?" Beth grins.

He can definitely tell she's buzzed now, the both of them feeling more relaxed, yet somehow anxious, dancing around each other's thoughts and feelings, an army of butterflies swarming between their two stomachs, traveling up into their ribcage, tickling everything in their wake.

Merle had always told him this type of thing was for pussies but he didn't give a shit either way at this point. What he was feeling, what Beth was making him feel, was like anything else he'd ever know in his entire life. She was strikingly beautiful, inside and out. Accepting him wholly, doing her best to understand his past, not having any qualms about who he was. Daryl had never known anyone like that in his entire life.

He was sure Beth Greene was one of a kind. There was no doubt about that in his mind and he hoped she knew that, whether he could vocalize it to her at all.

"See what I can do, alright? Try to come see ya soon," he says, nodding his head, setting the beer bottle down on the table.

Three beers would normally do absolutely nothing to him but it must have been Beth's low tolerance influencing him, the flush on her cheeks mirroring his own.

"I feel so warm," she muses, bringing her hands to her face.

"I know ya are, I can feel it," Daryl smirks.

Beth sits up, peeling off her cardigan, pulling it over her head, her shirt sticking to her sweater. Then he gets a full view of her slim, soft stomach, her tiny waist, belly button peeking at him.

"Ugh," she sighs, "I'm gonna text Lori and see if I can sleep here. There's no way I'm driving home now. I pray I don't smell like beer."

Beth frowns, grabbing her phone from the bedside table.

"Yer fine, Darlin. It was only three. Not like the cigarettes," he tells her.

"Mmm, I sure hope so," she says, biting her lip as her finger glides across the screen. "I've spent the night before, so I know they won't mind. Daddy doesn't like me driving late at night anyways."

She rolls her eyes at the last statement and he cracks a grin. Pulling the blankets down, she crawls inside the bed.

Daryl wishes he could reach out and touch her, caress her face, her cheek, her chin. Feel the softness of her skin under his rough fingers.

"You're cute when you're sleepy," she sighs happily.

Daryl grins, looking away quickly, turning off the lights and shuffling into his own bedroom.

"Pretty cute yourself there, Greene. Never would have taken ya fer such a flirty drunk though," he snickers, taking off his work boots.

"Nope, just being truthful," Beth says bluntly, her eyes a little glassy.

He wants to tell her how beautiful she looks like this. Golden blonde hair, wild and lustrous, framing her tiny impish face. Eyes bigger than anyone's he's ever seen in his entire life, deep blue, bold, fixed on him.

A blush comes across her face, the apples of her cheeks, her elegant, swan like neck. Her thin, delicate shoulders. The shadows of her collarbone beckoning him in in the dark.

She looks up at him, from under her long, dark lashes, a slightly drunk grin on her face, not unlike one he's seen on many girls and women alike in his life, but on Beth, it looks almost natural. As if she's given that look to a million men in her life but he knows he's the first.

"I know what you're thinking, Daryl Dixon," she smirks.

"Oh yeah? Think ya know everythin' now, do ya girl?" he laughs, shaking his head.

Daryl can feel her holding back, unsure of herself. Her naivety is evident then and he feels hesitant, wondering if the things she'd said about wanting to see him in person were only fueled by alcohol or if her intentions had been genuine. From what he'd learned about her in that short period of time, aside from the visions, the years of pushing her out of his mind, the dreams, the flashbacks, he'd come to see that Beth was for the most part up front about her feelings. She wore her heart on her sleeve.

"Never been a know-it-all, but I think I've got you figured out pretty good," she says confidently.

"That so?" he says, unbuttoning his work shirt and sliding it off his shoulders.

There wasn't much to hide from her now, he knew. She'd seen his scars all his life, in a way they were a part of her memories too.

"Yep," she yawns, turning up the baby monitor. "You're a regular sweetheart even though you look a little scary at first. Kind of like a junkyard dog,"

"Wow," he laughs, "can't say I haven't heard worse, but because yer drunk, I'll take that as a compliment and not an insult."

Beth smiles and closes her eyes, cuddling into the pillows beside her as her phone beeps loudly. Picking it up she squints her eyes.

"Lori says it's fine and my Daddy hasn't answered back, so chances are he already went to bed," she shrugs, rolling back over.

"Yer parents ain't gonna chew ya out?" he asks.

"Probably, but what are they gonna do? I'm not a baby anymore, right?" Beth says softly.

Daryl nods his head, laying down to admire her almost sleeping form. He watched her chest rise and fall with every breath, slowly becoming heavier, deeper.

"You promise me you're gonna be careful? With those men? Your brother's friends?" she asks without opening her eyes.

"Meeting with Merle's parole officer tomorrow. Everything is gonna be just fine, darlin. I promise."

"We gotta promise we're gonna protect each other, Daryl. I don't know why this is happening to us, but I know I'm gonna do whatever I can to protect you," she rambles, sleepily.

Daryl smirks at the thought of tiny little Beth going up against two men like Joe and Len but can't help but admire her for it. There hadn't been many people in his life willing to stand up for him, fight for his honor, or his life and there was little ole Beth Greene, wanting to take on the world for him.

Not really knowing or understanding how, Daryl feels himself reaching forward to touch her, feeling her hair between his fingers, silky and impossibly soft. He wonders if he's sleeping at this point, if they've both fallen asleep and are sharing the same dream.

"Everything is gonna be fine, Beth. Don't worry," he says, finding the strength to curl his body against hers, inhaling deeply into her hair, relishing in these stolen moments, cherishing this woman in his arms, in his mind. Thanking whatever cosmic power, whatever being that granted this possible for them, for their two souls to intertwine and intermingle, their thoughts one.

Not knowing and not understanding why or how, but not caring all together because none of it had to make sense, Daryl placed a gentle kiss on her cheek, tracing his finger there on her soft, milky skin.

"Goodnight, Beth," he whispers, knowing from the rhythm of her breath that she's already fast asleep, hoping he'll know how to harbor this power tomorrow, not wanting to sleep, only wanting to hold her a moment longer. This conscious touch something so new, almost dreamlike and ethereal.

He'll never let anyone hurt her, he tells himself. That's not so much a promise now in his mind as it is a fact. No harm will ever come to Beth Greene as long as he can help it. Not when she's in his arms like this, Daryl is convinced that there can't be any wrong in the world. Not with her there, in his bed, in his arms. Physical, mental, dream-state, he doesn't care either way. In any form, she's his.