A.N. - You guys are awesome, I cannot say enough how much I appreciate the support, I appreciate also the patience you've all shone with this slow burn that is going to continue to smolder for a bit longer but I do offer a little something as penance at the beginning of this chapter :) So beginning with the next update we're going to be back to following events from the show pretty closely so there should be some familiar bits with a twist.

Bit of a trigger warning here for an inner dialogue Beth has about Gorman and what happened at the hospital but that's about it, no graphic language describing any acts of rape.

I wish you all happy reading!

Chapter 10

There was something decidedly wrong with her, she could feel it vibrating along her bones, and burning along her muscles. If she could guess, put a specific time on it, she'd say it had started the other night when Eugene had peeked in on her and Daryl. It had felt at first like simple adrenaline and then the resulting crash afterwards that lasted longer than it should.

It filled her with a nervous energy that she didn't understand, couldn't shake or dissipate. Trying to suss it out, she couldn't pin point it to any one event, the sudden feeling of threat coming from the open door, Daryl's unmitigated violence - sudden but not unwarranted - or maybe it was still Grady, all rolling around her mind and settling in.

Logically she knew there should have been more fallout from her time there. But she'd hoped the reoccurring disassociation would be the only thing she needed to get through. She was strong, and she wouldn't let it break her, but the constant traveling and having that fog settle over her mind had perhaps been keeping things (more startling things) at bay until she could better deal with them.

The only problem was, she didn't know if she could rightly call how she was currently handling this feeling as 'dealing' with it. The energy hummed along her veins and the surface of her skin, and she wasn't sure if it was this unrelenting sensation that was making her so uncharacteristically angry, or if the rage was strong enough to make her skin twitch and burn the way it was.

Beth could definitely admit, even if she couldn't seem to care like she should, that what had happened on the car ride to Richmond was very much not dealing with it. At least not in what could be considered a healthy way.

But it had felt really, really, good.

And it hadn't been like she'd pushed him, or like it had even been her idea for him to nestle her in between his thighs like that. Sure, she doubted that Daryl had in any way planned on those few blissful moments to happen, but she certainly hadn't orchestrated them. She'd been too focused on working to keep her face carefully blank, fearing that Daryl of all people would be able to see this new unsettling feeling.

She hadn't wanted to risk being forced to stay back at the shop and talk things out with Maggie or something. But she'd almost let exactly that happen – when the seating had gotten switched around. She was too caught up in her own head to be so close to him. The idea of laying her head on his arm or running slow fingertips down his back was something she actively had to tell herself not to do. She could very easily ruin everything just over some kind of setback in her head.

So she'd sat, not even daring to talk to him as the SUV headed uneventfully down the road, thankful for his normal level of silence while she attempted to breathe the calm back into her sparking nerve endings.

She would not touch him, she would not touch him, she would not touch him…unless…

And then the next thing she knew he was turning in the limited space, a booted foot scooting along her toes and tailbone.

She'd had time to wonder if she was having some kind of fever dream when her eyes met his, steady and waiting, his wide thick knuckled hands resting on the faded expanse of his jean covered knees. The curving sling of his flannel shielded torso made her want to reach out, slip a middle button free, press cold hands into the barely giving spring of his abdomen.

Before just as carefully sliding another button loose.

Finally becoming aware she hadn't so much as twitched or said a thing to him, Beth had moved to copy his pose, the added leg room a welcome relief specifically to her still tender ankle. She'd done so well at first, sitting up straight, carefully not thinking about that half lidded gaze of his, the grease covered hair resting on sharp cheekbones and whiskered jaw.

She would not touch him, she would not touch him…but…

It was a not so gradual thing, the feeling of heat seeping into her from the apex of his thighs, and suddenly he was the only thing she could think about. And that jittering energy focused in a whole other direction than what she'd been dealing with all morning. Hyperawareness of him pressed against the outside of her hips and the curve of her butt, and even though she knew - she wanted to feel if he was the same temperature from groin to clavicle.

Settling back against him was incredible.

Daryl was stiff as she lounged into his frame, but she'd expected that. He was all dense muscle and simmering warmth, so solid - an unyielding presence against her back. It was like her body had never had contact with a single member of the opposite sex, she wanted to melt into him, all boneless weight and crackling skin.

His smell was one she was used to, but this close the mixture of tobacco, smoke, musk, and dirt with just a slight tang of old sweat was running like nitrogen through her nose, filling up her lungs and curling like a secondhand high around the inside of her skull. It was a near thing that she didn't turn her head fully and press her face into the recess under his jaw.

Her heartrate had tripped at just the idea, at what his reaction would be to that, would he shy away? Make a noise to draw attention, make a noise that would draw attention even if he didn't want it to? Would he tense more and grit his teeth, as she curved along him, nosing him like some inquisitive little animal?

Or maybe, would those carefully fisted hands on his thighs move to claim the cooler length of her throat, rough palms snagging along her skin and hair as he pressed her closer, stroking a thumb along her own jaw as she pressed her lips to his.

And where might that other hand go?

She could imagine only so far, had only allowed any access to a certain point, and that point wasn't exactly where she wanted it to go this time. Wasn't nearly low enough. She'd liked it fine when Jimmy or Zach moved their hands across her chest, mouths hot on her throat, pressing urgent hard-ons into her thigh or hip. It had made her feel guilty later, knowing she could have offered them some comfort before they passed.

But the problem had been that those interactions had never turned her desperate, mindless, and she'd been able to keep her head and keep them out of her pants, hands or otherwise. But now, without him laying a single trailing finger on her, she wanted Daryl to do things she'd only heard about from Maggie and other secondary sources.

She hadn't even been able to help herself in that way, too self-conscious and over thinking for her own good. She was in the middle of her struggle not to turn her head, neck and shoulders stiff with all the self-control left to her, synapses and nerve endings still thrilling. That uncanny energy still trying to set her teeth on edge, when they'd hit a swell in the road.

She was too light, her body weightless, she instinctively reached her hands down to either side to control her landing, but had come in contact with the bunching muscles in his thighs. She still couldn't answer even now, sitting quietly in the bait and tackle shop a day later, whether she had meant to land where she had or not.

The landing itself hadn't been hard, he'd barely flinched under her, had groaned as she slid down the front of him and she'd breathed an apology that she hadn't meant. Because now she could feel his reaction to her and it didn't make her sorry at all.

Heat pulled from her skin to collect into a thready pulse between her thighs, she knew, without a doubt that she couldn't move any more against him. Knew this was too far for him, his body once again losing all semblance of breathing male and instead a many hinged piece of metal lined her spine, framed her thighs, dug sinfully hard along the still giving flesh of her ass and the base of her spine.

Maybe she had moved, leaned into that point, feeling every hardened inch, mind reeling with thoughts of using those legs of his to boost herself back and against him again. Get him to make that grating sound one more time like it was tearing up his throat.

Beth shook her head, feeling that irritation bubbling like old coffee in her gut, looking around at the busily chatting individuals surrounding her right now. Daryl nowhere in sight. She didn't know how he'd managed, shear will and stubbornness she was grouchily sure, but he had managed to calm his body down. Metal plating beginning to give, turn flesh and muscle once more, his heat the only thing that stayed the same.

She had suddenly been aware of his ragged breathing, like he'd been holding it all that time until he could regain control.

She hadn't liked it at all.

Gone as far as placing one determined hand on his knee before the SUV came to a stop and Rick was announcing they'd arrived. Daryl had - carefully - but hastily moved her bodily away from him before hopping out the back doors like he was running from a herd.

The day had gone downhill from there with him getting mad at her for taking out that walker boy that used to be Noah's little brother, but it was her body, she'd seen the threat and launched herself at it. So while she couldn't blame Daryl for his stiff jawed anger, she had more than enough riling along her own limbs to worry about his.

She'd looked for more walkers on their way back to the car but the other group members had easily taken care of anything way before she even left the house. She hadn't been surprised when Daryl had sequestered himself in the front seat, immediately fussing with either his thumb or the hair around his mouth like he did whenever he was thinking or nervous.

She'd sat it the back with Noah, side to side, but their smaller frames allowing for more comfortable positions. Her hand going to pat his back every now and then as the tears slipped quietly down his face, watching him as his eyes stared blankly at the raw grey back door of the SUV. Murmuring sympathies as she felt the urge to scream or somehow lash out at the anger whipping away inside her.

She blinked several times now and a pair of flashing blues glinted into focus. He squatted down in front of her, eyeing her silently and she figured she must have stared at him blankly for too long from the way he was glowering at her.

"Sorry." Not sorry, screw you Daryl Dixon you damn paragon of restraint. "Ya'd say somethin'?"

"Just askin' how you're ankle was doin' after ya ran on it yesterday." He was talking really carefully to her like she might break if his voice got too loud and that made her madder still.

She didn't get that kind of crap from Daryl, he'd be gentle with her sure, sweet even if no one was around to rib him about it, but he didn't handle her with kid gloves. Not ever. And that's what she'd come to find most attractive about him – depended on him for – to help remind herself that she wasn't that weak little nothing that was a burden.

"Fine." She all but snapped and his eyes narrowed slightly in response.

"Ain't needin' these anymore then." His tone blatantly challenging, it made Beth wonder if he hadn't come over here just to pick shit with her. She watched him grab up her crutches, not really finding anything to protest until something caught her eye.

"Wait." He froze half turned, about ready to stand, eyes meeting hers warily. He was looking at her like he expected her to throw herself at him right in the middle of the bait and tackle.

She gritted her teeth a little before motioning for him to hand them back over, shooting him one of her best glares when he remained still, the light from the front window highlighting the circles under his eyes and the slight hollow of his cheeks.

"Stop bein' a pain in my ass Daryl, just hand 'em to me real quick." His eyes stayed narrowed but she knew it cracked him up a little when she swore.

Taking them back from his hold, she began unwrapping the soiled strips of cloth.

"Why're you doin' that?" He rasped, eyes tracking her quick movements.

She didn't answer at first, finding one of the first layers right next to the wood that sweat and dirt hadn't been able to reach. Leaving an end length of it free, she began wrapping it around her scarred wrist. Gathering the loose ends she offered them to him expectantly, sighing heavily when he made no move towards her waiting hands.

"Daryl-"

"Ain't nothin' ya gotta hide Beth." He nodded to her, his eyes as usual, were intense and she was in danger of doing that thing he'd looked concerned about her doing a few moments ago.

But she couldn't do that because if she did, his head was likely to explode and even being as messed up inside as she was, Beth was rather happy with his head the way it was. There must have been something wrong with her tone, however, because her answer had him flinching back.

"Can't help it if we like to hide our scars can we?"

And of course, or course he was going to have that reaction because Daryl hadn't put his scars there, they'd been done to him. They sat uncomfortably for a breath or two, and then he was reaching over and tying off the piece of cloth around her wrist. She felt surprise when he even did a half decent bow before dropping his hands.

The faded piece of flannel wound like ribbon, crisscrossing a few times before its looping knot at the back of her forearm. She didn't need much of a reason other than wanting to cover her scar, but it certainly didn't hurt that it had been his. That he'd shredded it, mad at her or not, in order to give her something she needed. It would be her good luck charm, her little piece of Daryl to remind her even when he was being a jackass how much they meant to one another.

She wanted to hold onto that feeling but most of it got evaporated in the turmoil happening in her head, and the worst part was that she had no real place to aim it at. Which is why she'd secluded herself against the front wall of the shop, below the window, it was in hopes of avoiding conversation and lessoning her chances of self-combusting.

"Wantin' to save the rest?" Daryl asked, not meeting her eyes, head bobbing to the other sprawling bits of fabric she'd unspooled.

She nodded, asking him to shove them into the bag filled with the rest of the group's dirty clothing. She'd be sure to be the one doing them so no one threw them out. She could find uses for them, unwilling for some reason to let them go.

Waiting until he was a far enough distance away, she levered herself to her feet keeping a close eye on his retreating back. Gingerly making her way outside she nodded a hello to Rosita who was the one on watch, walking a short distance away to catch her breath. She was unraveling everything she'd been working to repair, and she was violently upset and dispassionate about it by turns.

It was freaking her out, she'd been an emotional person for pretty much always, but barring extreme situations it had stayed manageable.

Barring extreme situations...

The cloth wrapping her wrist felt like warm fingers curling around the fine bones in her arm, holding her back, asking her to wait. She heard steps coming from the building, she needed to apologize to him, she never should have mentioned his scars - hers wasn't even comparable. It took a couple more of the approaching foot falls for her to know it wasn't him though, they were too scuffling and uncertain, no matter how shy he was feeling there was no way Daryl would ever sound like that.

She saw Rosita's slight look of consternation as she turned, coming face to face with Eugene.

He wasn't dangerous, not in the way Gorman had been, but he was unsettling. She figured if she had some time, if she could just get to know him she could probably like him. Tara and the man seemed to get on well and Beth had found the woman funny and perceptive.

She knew Tara was good people.

Events just seemed to be unfolding in a way that made it hard for her to feel comfortable around Eugene at the moment. Largest of those events was his creeping around trying to see her not only naked but having sex, the idea of which was mortifying to her. She couldn't imagine the amount of embarrassment and possible trauma she'd have suffered if her and Daryl had been having sex and she'd looked up and seen him there.

Maybe she was over reacting, but then if she'd been distressed Daryl had seen – enraged – by the intrusion. By the idea of them being seen, or at least of her being seen without permission.

Eugene stopped a decent handful of steps from her, nervous eyes glancing over to Rosita, obviously trusting her to act as mediator and chaperone. No offense to the feisty dark eyed woman, but Beth would have felt better if her own personal chaperone were present.

Then again, Daryl would probably cause the nearly trembling man to stutter himself to death, maybe it was better someone Eugene felt safe with was out here. Be that as it may she still found her arms crossing over her chest defensively, faded flannel pattern catching at the corner of her eye as she met his gaze.

"Miss Beth it is my true and unmitigated wish to offer my most sincerest of apologies for the gross transgression I perpetrated against you and Mr. Dixon. My judgement was not sound and my actions reprehensible. I'm aware that our limited familiarity with one another made these actions all the more disturbing."

"I doubt the level of familiarity had much to do with it Eugene." Rosita drawled sarcastically, Beth flashed a quick look over to see that she was still paying very close attention to the interaction which was good.

Beth was too on edge to crack the appropriate tension easing jokes.

"Be that as it may." The toneless voice continued, head nodding quickly in agreement. "While I realize that this muddle of events does nothing to color my character in a favorable light. I do hope that time and no repetition of said events will cause you to arrive at the conclusion that while ungentlemanly I am in no way and never meant to be a threat to you and yours."

After Beth got done working through the meandering yet clinical statement, she felt her cheeks flush a little. Did he mean that 'yours' as in her family in general? Or did he mean that Daryl, the other person he was attempting to spy on, was hers?

Pfft if only...

She did have to admit though she was a little surprised Daryl hadn't come prowling out of the shop's doors. It seemed unlikely he'd got done with the small task and meandered off without checking on her at least one more time. She'd thought it before, the man was like a grumpy junk yard dog, but he was the most fiercely loyal guardian and partner a person could have.

She couldn't think up much of a response for the man currently in front of her. She'd come out here to decompress, her muscles still trembled in her arms and even though she wasn't mad at Eugene, not really, she was still made in general. She wasn't going to take it out on him, on anyone if she could help it, so she did the only thing she felt comfortable doing and dipped her head in acceptance, wanting to get away.

She went to take a step around him, not sure where it was she planned to go exactly. Just away. But Eugene, maybe concerned with the look in her too wide eyes or the grimacing set of her mouth, reached out a hand to stall her escape. It wasn't his fault, the thought zipped through her mind, even as his warm hand came into contact with her midriff.

He hadn't meant for his fingers to graze the skin of her stomach. That was an unfortunate coincidence of too many harsh washings, and her tightly crossed arms that had pulled the hem up enough for the contact to occur. Also didn't help that she was wearing that faded once yellow polo shirt she'd had on when Dawn almost killed her.

He could have no idea. No one did, at what that contact as mildly unwanted and unsuspecting as it was, would remind her of.

But it didn't stop her from springing back with a yell, arms uncrossing to raise her hands defensively in front of her.

Eugene immediately leapt back as if scalded, just as the sound of the shop door smacking back into the wall could be heard. The scientist was tripping over himself to take a ducking position next to Rosita, clearly expecting the woman to protect him from the seething redneck that was crossing the parking lot towards them.

Bow strapped to his back, fists clenched, Daryl's long strides ate up blacktop like a thoroughbred down the track. Beth shook as her vision whited out around the edges, making her feel one staggering breath away from passing out. She'd managed to stuff up her ears somehow, Daryl's brash voice seeping through layers of thick wool.

"The fuck happened?" He barked, veins standing out slightly on his forehead, stopping hard inches away from Rosita who stood with arms crossed a look of irritated inconvenience on her face.

"He didn't do anything, she looked totally freaked after he apologized for the gas station. He was trying to make sure she was ok." Beth could barely hear the calm response, started jutting her jaw a little to relieve the pressure in her head.

A part of her had the illogical idea that if Daryl hadn't come charging out when he had, she'd already be passed out or running.

"Ain't no reason for 'im t'touch 'er ever, ya hear me Leroy?" Daryl snapped, the ending comment directed to a hastily agreeing Eugene, who was shrinking so much he suddenly seemed smaller than the woman next to him. "Swear t' Christ I'll scalp that fuckin' mullet off yer head."

"It was an accident Daryl, he barely touched her." Rosita reiterated, seeming like she barely managed to stop from rolling her eyes before looking to Beth, concern flashing but not out of control like Daryl.

Beth liked him a whole lot.

He made her look calm and collected as she backed away one small step at a time from a full blown panic attack. He'd postured and yelled himself into place between her and the other two. Seeing movement she looked over to the group that had gathered by the shop door, peering out with varying levels of concern, she had to shake her head emphatically to stop Maggie's clear intent of rushing over to her.

If someone touched her right now she'd scream.

"Beth are you ok?" Rosita asked, and Beth was pulled back to the individuals nearest to her.

She nodded, taking an actual physical step back, away from all three of them. Daryl was half turning soon as her foot left the cracked asphalt. She managed to lock eyes with him for only a second, hoping and dreading that he'd follow her as she took another uncertain step backwards before spinning and treading blindly away from the shop.

He followed.

Of course he did.

She couldn't hear him, but the presence of him trailed goosebumps down her neck and arm on the right side. The panic was fading with every striding step she made, adrenaline canceling any twinges of discomfort she may have felt. That festering pit of anger roiled around her, sloshing through her organs and ribs until it scrabbled at the back of her throat.

She wanted to beat something bloody. Wanted to scream and rage until her lungs quit, her body feeling inadequate to house and expel the force of it. She hated that anyone had ever put a hand on her that she hadn't wanted there. The one that blasted across cheek bone and forehead, the eyes staring at her emotionless as she bled, or the raking claw up her shirt searching manically for her breast, shoving her back into a hard desk.

"You're not a fighter."

He was dead and gone, she'd watched him die, helped him get there by feeding him to walker Joan and looting him while he'd gurgled up at her. Hell, he hadn't even got much of a chance to do anything besides shoving that grasping hand under her top pawing at her like he was entitled to anything that was her.

But that anger, fear, and near helplessness had swamped her for a moment as the idea of – what if slamming him over the head wasn't enough to knock him down? What if he was more competent then he seemed and was able to kill the walker and finish what he started with her against that desk?

She'd shoved the thought away with a bitter determination, but now, walking through...she finally glanced around, seeing thick tree cover. Now as she stormed through these woods it was like she hadn't gotten the chance to kill him good enough. She'd messed up something, because he was still haunting her, he and Dawn had chipped all the bright yellowness of her soul away and she was left with a washed out color that matched her too thin shirt.

She heard a stumbling groaning sound to one side and without another thought dodged towards it, hearing a cursed mutter not too far behind her. Taking a few more steps she saw a small four pack of walkers, straggling loosely in formation as they trudged through the fallen snapping branches around them. Without another thought she hurled herself at the nearest one, only drawing her knife once she'd pinned it to a tree by its neck.

It had once been a scrawny male, maybe around her age, but it didn't matter now, as she slammed her blade into its head. Dropping it she started for the next, only for it to jerk and fall with a bolt through its forehead. Not stopping she turned to the third closest, it had been a bigger man 30's to 40's rust colored hair and a beer gut.

Too big for her to take on.

Perfect.

She pitched her weight into him with a yell, distantly registering Daryl's voice somewhere behind her. The walker snapped at her, body teetering with her force, awkward gate catching on a dead limb and she was falling to the ground on top of it. Her hand jarred free of the safe hold on the walker's neck and it turned its head to snap at her retreating flesh.

Beth immediately propelled herself off and to the side, rolling and rising to knees quick enough to bury her knife hilt deep in the walker's eye.

And just like that she wasn't useless.

Gasping and smiling she made her way shakily to her feet. She felt so much better. Looking around she saw Daryl jerking a second arrow from the fourth walker, before he was turning to her. He was clearly livid, and Beth swallowed down her smile a little as he made slow deliberate steps towards her before stopping on the other side of the large redheaded walker she'd killed.

"Guess I changed after all huh?" She asked, trying to lighten the mood and the gale force storm flashing in his eyes.

Usually calling back to their time at the moonshine shack or the funeral home caused a bit of a truce between them if they were irritated, or made them grin at one another like when they had crossed state lines.

But this time it seemed to infuriate him further and Beth felt the rest of the smile die on her lips.

She hadn't been on the receiving end of that look of his in a long time, maybe never, even when he'd been red faced and screaming less than a foot from the end of her nose, even then Beth didn't think he'd looked at her this harshly.

"Yeah an' you can't depend on anybody for anythin' right?" And the last word was bit out so hard she felt her Grady mask slide into place, going completely expressionless.

She was somehow piling on more mistakes. She'd done it out of reflex, before, at the hospital, showing anger or fear was not a good idea. She'd had to adapt, to learn to show nothing in the face of strong emotion. She didn't know exactly why but it must have been the wrong response for Daryl. He searched her eyes for a moment before shaking his head and turning to head back the way they had come.

He didn't slow down.

And he didn't look back.

After a few stubborn moments, almost thinking she wouldn't follow him, Beth's feet started forward without a thought and she was tagging along in his wake. She should apologize, she thought distantly, but she wasn't sure for what. Hadn't he taken frustrations out on walkers more times than she could count?

Why couldn't she do the same? He told her she was strong with one breath and then acted like she shouldn't ever attempt a walker kill in the next. And so yeah, maybe she'd gone in a little more brazenly than was advisable, but why couldn't act that way? He'd had her back, nothing was going to happen to her with him so close.

She watched his wing covered back as he swaggered down the road they'd made it back to, the shop in easy view at the end of it. She frowned a little to see that walk, he hadn't used it in a long time, seemed like he only did when he was putting on a front about something. Like he was tough, and not tough like strong, but that he didn't care.

Didn't care what you said about him, or thought about him. Didn't care if you didn't trust him, or listen to his ideas. Didn't care if you didn't want him, didn't want him around, didn't want him at your back. Didn't care, because did you see this dipping swaying didn't give a fuck gate of his? Nothing you could do or say could touch him.

Because Daryl Dixon didn't depend on anyone for anything…

And Beth knew, as she watched it take him all the way to the shop doors, that it was bullshit.

But she'd have to figure out why he was doing it later, because right now?

Right now she was wondering about the next chance she'd have at another walker.

Alright I know I know, like the angst level just went up by ten levels, but this is all coming to a head people believe me. And next update day is Thursday so no super long wait or anything :)

Thanks so much for reading and any feedback is welcome!