I have no excuse for the delay in this chapter except for the simple fact that I struggled so much with it. I reworked it so many times, and I still don't feel like I did the scene in my head justice. I think this is one of the most important missing bits from the whole show, and I just had to include it. It breaks my heart that, canon-wise, Daryl and Hershel never get to have this conversation.

I hope you enjoy.

With a sigh of satisfaction, Daryl added his seventh fresh crossbow bolt to the pile next to him. The fact that they were reusable was both a blessing and a curse. It meant that he could reuse ammunition, but it also meant that the bolts broke after too many uses. With a little fancy knife work and a lot of trial and error, however, he had managed to figure out how to make halfway decent ones. They didn't fly quite as true as the ones from hunting stores, but they served his purposes.

Making them took time, though. He'd been sitting against the far side of the prison for most of the morning and had only managed to produce seven. The wood whittling and binding of the straightest feathers he could find was not an easy task. It wasn't something he minded, though. From the time he was small he always felt better when he could work with his hands. The added bonus was that the intensity of it kept his mind occupied.

It had been a full two weeks since the wedding, and he had managed to make himself as scarce as possible, The truth of it, was that Beth had done everything in her power to put herself in his path, and he had been trying his best to stay away. He just couldn't put his finger on it. Try a he might, he couldn't figure why in the world Beth wanted to be around him. He'd done everything short of telling her to go away, and she just kept appearing; always with a smile and a few soft words that left him scrambled for hours.

One of the biggest problems was that he just couldn't find it in himself to be truly mean to her. This puzzled him more than anything else. If there was one thing that Daryl excelled at, it was the act of pushing people away. From the time he was small and growing up in that hellish house with his parents, he had learned that the best way to keep from getting trampled was to keep your head down and never let anyone know you were hurting. He would never forget the time he told his friend in grade school that his old man beat up on him. Word had gotten around, like it always does in the backwoods, and his father had found out. He'd striped Daryl's back so hard that he still had the marks almost thirty years later. From that incident, he'd made a point to keep his situations to himself; especially when it came to women.

Women got all hurt and offended for you when they found out things like that. The one or two nice girls that had shown some tentative interest in him in high school always bolted when they found out what they were getting into. Daryl hadn't ever laid a hand on a woman in anger, but when he felt cornered his words could cut pretty deep. He'd managed to scare off most of the girls in town with that reputation.

After that, the only women who had ever showed any interest in him were the kind that hung around the dive bars and honky tonks that he'd haunted in his twenties. They usually smelled like smoke, wore their jeans too tight, and were only interested in one thing. Beth didn't bear the slightest resemblance to any of them, so he didn't have much of a wheelhouse in this situation. Beth should have been the kind of girl who crossed to the other side of the street when she saw him coming. The fact that she persevered through the worst of his cold shoulder made it so much more difficult to keep his absurd attraction for her in check. A few times, he'd been gathering the words to cut her deep enough to keep her away, but every damn time she said or did something that shut his mouth. How could you say something awful to the girl who looked at you like she did at him. As much as he wanted it to be, it wasn't in him.

The most dangerous part was that some days, the looks she sent his way had him thinking that she wanted him too. It wasn't all the time, but every now and then after she'd thanked him for catching dinner or when she was leaving from visiting him in the guard tower, she'd get this look in her eyes that made his pulse quicken. He couldn't define it. It wasn't as brazen as the women in the bars; it was more hesitant than that. She would usually follow it up with a lingering touch to his shoulder or a brief hug that would leave him so wound up he'd be pacing for hours. Even though she was clearly inexperienced and a little shy, it was like she knew knew just enough to drive him up the walls. He cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to shake the memory of it. He'd be useless for the rest of the day if he couldn't.

As he selected another stick to whittle, he heard a distinct thump and scrape from around the corner of the building. His hunter's ears recognized Hershel's awkward gait at once, and his heart jumped into his throat. A walk this far out would have taken Hershel a long time on his crutches, so he could only assume that something was wrong.

He leapt to his feet and almost crashed into Hershel as he rounded the corner.

"Where's the fire?" Hershel asked with a smile. His breath was coming in short puffs, but he didn't seem upset otherwise.

"Somthin' wrong?" Daryl asked warily, unable to understand why Hershel had come all the way out here.

"Not at all," Hershel replied. He hobbled over to the wall, set his crutches to the side, and slid down to a sitting position. He motioned to Daryl's fletching supplies, "Don't let me stop you. I just wanted to get outside for a spell."

Daryl returned to his spot with caution. There were several places that Hershel could have gone for fresh air that were nowhere near this far out. If he had gone to the trouble to track him down, Daryl was almost positive that he had something specific to say. A part of him that was way more terrified than he would ever be willing to admit was afraid that he already knew what it was.

He picked up his latest bolt and set his knife to it, hoping that he wouldn't have to make eye contact.

"Have you ever read any of the Bible, Daryl?" Hershel asked after a minute or two.

Daryl's knife stopped, mid-slice. It was an odd question, and it threw him off so much that he responded truthfully.

"Not much. My mama read me some as a kid, I s'pose."

"One of my very favorite stories comes from Genesis," Hershel continued, shifting to get a little more comfortable, "'Bout a boy named Joseph."

Daryl sat in silence. He was pretty sure he knew the story. It was something about a fancy coat and going to Egypt. Even with his upbringing, he'd managed to make it through the doors of a church once or twice He couldn't tell where Hershel was going with this, so he just continued whittling.

"The thing I like so much about him," Hershel said, "is that he didn't let his circumstances tie him down."

"Mmmmm," Daryl grunted noncommittally.

"Joseph came from a family that had a lot of… complications," Hershel elaborated, "He was the youngest in his family, and his brothers really hated him. One day they got so fed up that they sold him as a slave to the Egyptians."

Daryl had to fight the urge to get up and walk away. It wasn't unusual for Hershel to sit and chat with people, but he had never gone preacher on him before. It made him jumpy.

"It took Joseph a lot of years to understand why the Lord would allow those things to happen to him, but he ended up havin' a purpose in Egypt. He was responsible for savin' all of the Egyptians from a famine. He proved that he was better than his family tree."

"Good for him," Daryl commented with an edge of sarcasm.

"What I'm tryin' to tell you Daryl," Hershel said, rubbing a hand over his white beard, "is that men like us have no control over the families that we come from, but we do have a great deal of say in the ones we end up in."

Daryl just stared at him. What in the hell did this have to do with him? Once he realized that there was no danger in the camp, he was almost positive that he was in for the keep-your-hands-and-eyes-off-my-daughter conversation, and here Hershel was telling him Bible stories and talking about families. And what did he mean "men like us?" It was hard to imagine two men that were more different than Hershel and himself.

"I like Joseph's story because I identify with him," Hershel continued, " I did not grow up in a loving home."

At that, the knife practically fell out of Daryl's hand. He'd never seen anywhere as idyllic as that farmhouse. He couldn't fathom life ever being difficult there. Up until the moment the herd of walkers took it down, it was someplace that everyone felt safe. The damn Waltons could've lived there.

"My father was a sad, angry drunk who used his fists instead of his words, and I remember thinking that I would probably grow up to be just like him."

Though he was stunned, Daryl tried not to show it. Everything about Hershel resonated patience and gentleness. He was the kind of father that everyone dreamed of, the kind Daryl wished he'd had.

"And for a while I was," Hershel continued.

At this, Daryl set his bolt aside. He originally had no intention of being drawn into this conversation, but all of this rang a little too familiar to ignore. He still wasn't sure why Hershel felt the need to share all of this with him, however.

"In my younger years, I was something of a hellraiser," Hershel said, "I worked until I had enough money to drink and wasn't concerned with much else. I never gave much thought to starting a family because I thought that I was condemned to carry on my father's sins."

Though he didn't say it, Daryl could relate. One of the reasons that he never let his guard down was because he was sure it was only a matter of time before he managed to hurt someone. It was in his blood.

"But the Lord showed me differently," Hershel shifted and pulled a crumpled old picture out of his back pocket. He passed it to Daryl who took it wordlessly.

The picture was older, probably from the eighties, and showed a lovely blonde woman in a cotton printed dress. She was leaning against the old porcelain sink in the farmhouse and she wore a glowing smile that was all too familiar to Daryl

"That's my Jo," Hershel explained with a smile, "Beth and Maggie's mama."

Daryl would have known even if Hershel hadn't said it. It caused something in his chest to tighten, seeing this woman that looked so much like Beth.

"She was the town preacher's daughter, she was miles out of my league, and she was nine years younger than me."

Daryl could have sworn that his battered heart came to a stop in his chest. Suddenly it all fell into place and he knew where this conversation was going. And he could hardly dare to hope that his hearing was actually working the right way.

Hershel sighed heavily and clapped a firm hand on Daryl's shoulder. Daryl continued to stare at the dog-eared photograph.

"I can't tell you what to do with your life, Daryl. You're the kind of man who wouldn't stand for it, and I respect you for that. I can only offer you some advice from my experiences and maybe save you some of my struggle."

Daryl shrugged his consent, not trusting himself with words.

"When women like my wife and her daughter get it in their heads to do something, there's no stopping them. You can't outrun 'em or outsmart 'em, so you may as well go along with 'em. All you can do is thank your lucky stars and hold on for the ride."

Daryl could barely breath as he watched Hershel retrieve his crutches and push himself to his feet.

"The Lord has plans for us all, Daryl," Hershel said in parting, "And yours may include someone that you weren't expecting. Mine certainly did"

"Hmmrmn," Daryl managed.

Hershel started back, but paused after a beat and turned back to face him.

"You take care of her, you hear?"

His last comment wasn't quite as confident as the rest of his speech and when he met Daryl's eyes, Daryl found himself giving a firm nod before he even realized he was doing it.

As Hershel disappeared from sight, Daryl continued to sit with his back to the warm brick wall until his heart rate returned to normal. He could hardly process what had just happened. If he didn't know any better, he'd say that he'd just been given Hershel's blessing to pursue Beth. It didn't make any sense. The world didn't work like that. He'd been let down too many times to believe that fairy tales like the one Hershel described would ever happen in his world.

Another part of him, a traitorous part, felt lighter than he'd felt in years. Nothing as good as Beth and this family that he'd stumbled upon had ever been his before, and even as he couldn't quite wrap his head around it, a part of him was wildly hopeful. It was that strange kind of hope that fills up your chest like a swelling balloon. It was new and terrifying all at the same time. That kind of hope, especially in this world, was destined to pop at some point, and Daryl wasn't sure how to move forward while keeping it safe.

He mulled this over while taking the time to finish his eight crossbow bolt. He was still far from having his thoughts together when he heard the now unfamiliar sound of gravel crunching under wheels. As far as he knew, no one had left the prison today. Unless someone was moving vehicles, there was the possibility of newcomers, and he knew that Rick would want him there if anyone needed to be questioned.

He stashed the new bolts in his side pocket and collected his crossbow to start back when the sound of an explosion drew his attention. Never missing a beat, he took off at full speed and rounded into the front courtyard to a sight that stopped his heart with fear. The north guard tower was in flames and a steady procession of armored vehicles was tearing through the gates.

I know, a cliffhanger! I'm sorry, but it was time to get these two on their own for a little while. I haven't decided how I want to treat the events in "Still" and "Alone." I know that Beth won't get taken, just because I don't feel like it, and I want these two to have a chance. I'm thinking another 4-5 chapters, and we'll be done! I'll try to get them out faster!

Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think!