"Michonne! Where's Daryl?" Hershel's voice cut through the silence of the night time, she whipped her head around and peered into the darkness.

"What's happened?" She shouted back.

"Bethy's awake!" He cried out, "Where's Daryl?"

"I'll go and get him, you stay here," Michonne's heart pounded in her chest as she ran across the courtyard; praying Daryl would still be in his hiding place.

~.~

Daryl hated himself; literally despised every bone in his fucking body as he sat slumped against the wall. Every fibre of him burned as he thought about Beth lying motionless on the dusty floor, he buried his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes as he tried to blank out the cruel image. The thought of her dying because of him made him feel sick, the humid air contributed more to this sensation and had caused Daryl to vomit several times since he slammed the cell block doors behind him and vanished. He couldn't take his eyes off her as he lay her down onto her bed, his hands were violently shaking as he clutched onto hers. Daryl had taken one last look at her beautiful pale face before ripping away from her and down one of the winding corridors. After several minutes the reality of the situation kicked in, he leant against the wall - hands braced against the cool stone; retching and coughing as tears began to fall, the noise muffling the footsteps that sounded against the concrete behind him.

"Daryl?"

"What?" He growled, not turning around; angrily rubbing his watering eyes with the back of his hand.

"If you go 'round the back and find storage container C, there's a little red one about a hundred yards or so away; it's got a little wall near it. It's where I used to go, nobody ever looks there. Just a thought," Andrea said softly. Daryl grunted in response and took off for the nearest exit.

So now he was sat here; god knows how many hours later. Andrea was right though, nobody had found him and the blonde sure as hell didn't tell anyone that she knew where he was. He'd half expected Carl to come tearing around the corner in the first few hours; the boy would inevitably demand to know what happened and Daryl really wasn't feeling up to Carl's bombardment, now the night was starting to close in; the growing silence made his tense muscles ease slightly. Thoughts of Beth raced around his mind as the minutes ticked on – he agonized at returning to the cell blocks, he couldn't bare to leave and discover the fate of the beautiful girl; the one that he really didn't deserve. Why did she like him anyway? Dirty fuckin' redneck and the farmer's daughter? Likely story. He imagined Hershel's distraught face as he poured venom into his words; screaming at Daryl, screaming because he was the reason that his baby girl died. Daryl's fault for being so fuckin' careless and wrong, his fault for playing with Beth's feelings and then causin' her to fall to her fuckin' death. Her last fuckin' words were said to hurt him, and they did – stinging him like poison, fuckin' ripping him apart as he watched her crumple to the floor. He should have grabbed her – told her he was sorry, sorry for ever doing wrong by her, sorry for ever giving her a reason to hate him. But it wasn't fuckin' enough now, she was goin' to die and he felt so helpless. Daryl buried his face in his hands as the emotion overwhelmed him, his body racked uncontrollably as he sobbed; tears scalding against his calloused skin as his walls broke down around him.

~.~

Daryl felt numb as he sat in silence, the darkness had enveloped the prison courtyard and the only noise that lingered in the air was that of the snarling undead – the sounds of death and decay ringing in his ears – he'd refused to process that Beth's lithe body could be lying there; Hershel forced to put a knife in his baby girl's head, the thought had made him sick again. The overpowering guilt flooded through his senses; he'd come to accept the fact that he'd leave at first word of Beth's demise; he couldn't stay here with that hanging over his head, after a while they'd say they'd forgave him – but their eyes would tell the lies, they'll look out the corner of 'em – accusin', they'd make him know that it was all his fault, her blood on his hands without even breathing a word. He'd seen that look before, when he was a kid – his momma had a cat; nasty fuckin' thing, one of those trailer park cats that ripped each other apart and shredded anything that got too close. He was only a kid at the time; around four or five – Merle told him to drop the cat in the river; to see if it could swim. Daryl listened. Obviously. His momma cried, Merle laughed and his dad beat him senseless; he hated that fuckin' cat as well but it gave him an excuse to leave him bloody and bruised – lying on the ground. Up until she died his momma would glare at him whenever he walked in the room; narrowed eyes and a wave of hate would wash over him whenever he was in her sight.

Heavy footsteps made Daryl's head jerk up from his hands, he fumbled against the floor in the darkness; fingertips grasping around his crossbow as he stumbled to his feet.

"Daryl?" Michonne's voice hissed.

He remained silent, his eyes peering into the blackness – trying to make out her silhouette amongst the storage containers.

"Beth's awake," Her voice was louder this time.

Daryl's stomach dropped in both fear and unspeakable relief, he passed Michonne as he ran towards the prison, his thick hair getting in his eyes as the wind battered it against his face; his lungs burned as he reached the door, swinging it open and heading for the cells; Hershel was stood at her door – he was smiling.

"'Ya just missed her," He chuckled, "Kept askin' for 'ya and now she's asleep again,"

Daryl frowned as he entered the cell, his eyes locking onto Beth's unconcious form; he quickly noted that her breathing was normal and her pallor had decreased considerably. "She gonna be okay?"

"Yes, she's opened her eyes and spoken," Hershel said, his eyes lingering on his daughter, "She's just sleepin' off her injuries now, can you watch her for a little while for me? I'm dead on my feet,"

Daryl tore his gaze from Beth and nodded at Hershel as he left; smiling, he crouched down next to the sleeping girl and cradled her hand in his; he pressed a kiss against the warm skin and smiled into it. "Baby wake up, I ain't leavin' your side 'til you do," he whispered; peering up at her pretty face from underneath his fringe, "I promise,"