"Come on Lil' Bit. If we're gonna go out, at least we're gonna go out in style."

It drove like a dream. It purred at rest and roared when revved, pure modern American muscle, more than likely, the last of a rare breed in a dying world. And it was fast, just like he promised Beth. And there was Beth, ridin' shotgun, smiling. This was a dream...or a hallucination. Her smiling in their fucked up world even after all the shit that had went down, and not just today. Her watching him. Maybe if he had been ten or years younger, he wouldn't have felt so shitty about liking it. If only he was young again...but in this moment, it really didn't seem to matter. There were twenty or so miles of open highway before the first turn off on their route.

"Come on Daryl, slow down. Let's not take it too fast...let's enjoy the ride," Beth purred. Her lips said one thing, but the spark in her eyes said another. Something that was not to be ignored.

"Really Blondie? You think this is too fast? We're just in third." Daryl could hear the excitement rising in his own voice.

He floored it as he threw it into fourth, the powerful surge throwing them back in their seats. Beth let out an adorable squeal followed by laughter. He couldn't help grinning. It was a good day...it was a very good day...until...he was blindsided...it all came crashin' down around him...

"Can I drive?" She was totally serious.

"What?" He heard exactly what she said, but he needed to buy time.

"Can I drive?" Beth repeated cheerily as if he should have no reason to turn her down. His heart constricted in his chest, and not in a good way.

"I don't know...can you?" He put on the brakes so he could handle this little situation at a safer speed.

"Come on Daryl, you know what I mean. Will you let me drive?"

She thought he was playing a cute little mind game.

"No...I'm dead serious...can you drive?" This was going in a very bad direction.

"Yes," Beth replied all too quickly.

Could he really say no. She had just saved his life after all.

"Who taught you?" He needed more time. Maybe he could keep her distracted till they got somewhere to stop for the night.

"Um...Maggie a few times...and Shawn..." She looked all sweet and innocent, but right then she was Satan in a Sunday hat.

...maybe he owed her this much...

"Do you have a driver's license?"

Beth batted her eyelashes at him and smiled.

"I left it at home..."

"No..." It didn't come out concrete enough the first time, and he needed to stand his ground. "No. You can bat your eyes all you want and smile all innocent like, but there's no way in Hell I'm gonna teach a girl to drive, much less how to drive a stick!"

"Fine. I didn't want to drive anyway...sticks scare me." Beth smiled.

She'd been toying with him! And he had let her make him sweat.

"Silly girl..." he replied gruffly then softening it with a half smile. "You got some spirit, don't you?"

But eventually, he might need to teach her to drive for her own safety. He didn't know what he dreaded more. The idea of that or a herd of walkers...

The house Daryl chose for their short convalescence was nothing much to look at, just a normal rural American home. He had exited the highway on a whim to find shelter, and this spot spoke to him, not because it was particularly secure or out of the way, but because it boasted a semicircular front drive with two points of exit as well as a driveway from the back. In their situation, multiple exit options where one of the best features they could look for when "shopping" for prime real estate. Everything seemed deserted, but it didn't seem to him that the place had been looted, so they might luck out and find something useful too.

As Daryl pulled up the parking break, the tires skidded to a stop. After he turned the car off, he sat silent for several long moments waiting to see if the noise of the car drew out any local walkers. Beth got the drift and followed his example, but then she had a good sense about when she shouldn't be too chatty. Guess that could be credited to growing up in the apocalypse. For the drive at least, life had felt more than normal, and the highway and roads were unexpectedly clear of the dead, abandon cars, and the walking dead. But then again, they'd traveled rural highways and roads that probably never saw the same amount of traffic that the ones closer to Atlanta did. They both eased out of the car.

"Okay, when we go in, no guns unless there's no choice...we gotta save the bullets till we really need 'em. You keep your knife in hand."

Beth nodded. They met just a few steps from the front door of the house. He checked his bow at the same time as he assessed the surroundings. He would not be caught unaware for the second time in a day. He didn't wanna take any chances. Their luck wasn't gonna run out on his watch.

"I want you on me Beth." Shit, that didn't come out right. "I want you right behind me. Put your hand on my back," he instructed.

Beth hesitated, a bit confused.

"Beth, now. I want you to stay right behind me." He felt her grab his shirt at the small of his back. "Don't let go unless all Hell breaks loose. And even if it does, stay with me unless..."

"Got it, Daryl." Beth cut him off before he could finish.

He pounded on the front door with the butt of his crossbow. From inside, he could hear at least one start growling and snapping at the thought of a meal, but it didn't sound like it was gettin any closer, so it must be stuck. He pushed the door open, shining his flashlight into the dark.

"Looks like we got us a swinger," he noted, Beth leaning around him to see.

The woman had hung herself from the ceiling fan, and the reanimated corpse was suspended from the fan, swinging, and grabbing, and clawing the air for the meal it would never have. Before he could make anymore inappropriate comments or Beth took in too much of the horror of the scene, he put a bolt through its eye. Almost as if on cue, another walker, slow and clumsy, stumbled through the door at the opposite side of the room.

"And there he is...Mr. 'Swinger' himself..." Daryl just couldn't help it.

He shined his light at the walker and saw its fleshless bottom jaw just hanging from the left side of it face. Its right cheek and ear were gone. He'd botched his own suicide. Daryl wondered morbidly for a moment whether the man had died instantly from the botched shot or if he'd laid somewhere bleeding out.

"Daryl...shoot him..." there was panic rising in her voice, and confusion as to why he hadn't shot the damn walker.

"He can't hurt us. He ain't got no jaw to bite with," Daryl explained as he shot it through the eye anyway.

Either way, it was done.

They swept the rest of the modest home together, finding no other threats. They ended in the master bedroom. Beth sat on the edge of the made up bed and pulled a silver picture frame off the nightstand. From his position, he saw it was Mr. and Mrs. "Swinger's" wedding picture.

"They were just normal people." Beth's voice turned melancholy.

"What did you expect Beth, the Dalai Lama or something."

He couldn't begin to offer comfort if he didn't know why she was upset, but he probably came across as a jackass, and he silently cursed himself. It wasn't his job to be mean to her.

"Who do you think went first? They clearly didn't have it planned...they don't look like they went together." She traced a finger across the glass in the frame.

Daryl took a seat beside her on the bed, leaning his bow against the footboard and confiscating the photo.

"I don't know Beth." He laid the picture aside and took her hand.

"Do you think he left her, and then she had no choice?' Her head was down, and she was staring to the point where their hands were connected.

"If he did, he wasn't nothin' but a coward." It probably wasn't the right answer, but it was the truth. "Come on now, I'm gonna go check out back and take care of the bodies while you head in and see what we have in the way of food."

He pulled Beth to her feet, grabbing his crossbow, and moving into action. If she was busy, maybe she wouldn't have time to be sad.