A.N. - Hey guys, so this is the chapter that was giving me such a hard time. Hopefully it turned out ok. Thanks so much for everyone who took the time to read and review. I was thinking about maybe wrapping this thing up soon, since I have three other fics I wanted to start. But there's still a lot of interest so I don't know, posts on the story might just slow down as I post other chapters but I'll see how long I can, one, keep it going and two, people stay interested in it.

Thanks again everyone.

Oh and Edda, baths will happen next chapter ^.~ I promise lol.

Happy Reading!

Chapter 36

It was night still, or the too dark time of morning to make much difference, when she came back to herself. Beth went from being utterly asleep, to eyes wide open and searching. The moon was high, full bright, and streaming down to dapple their little clearing with silver. There were a few animal calls a ways out from camp, but nothing large, no predators, none that meant her harm anyway.

The first thought that struck her, was that she'd done it. They'd done it. Gotten out, at least for now. She would've loved to be a fly on the wall at the Sanctuary when Negan found out the lot of them were gone. See Dwight hang his head in shame when it came time tell the big boss man that a little blonde woman whooped him and took his stuff. The idea nearly made her puffy lips curve.

The second thing, was that somehow, as quickly as they'd been reunited, they'd split like pick-up-sticks in all different directions again. It was for the best, she knew that, made them harder to track, easier to evade a larger group, and that was only speaking to issues with Negan's people. She couldn't blame everyone for not wanting to bed down before going to see their nearest and dearest.

Maggie.

Beth sure hoped Jesus hadn't been sugar coating anything. Her gut twisted up hard, closing her eyes over the sudden rush of moisture. She willed it to be the truth. That Glenn was with her sister now, that they'd been able to figure out what'd made Maggie so terribly sick all of a sudden. That the baby was alright…Nothing was ever guaranteed these days, but some good somewhere had to be allowed to exist. Didn't it? She hadn't exactly been praying on the regular anymore, but it'd be nice if God looked out for her sister and the baby.

They all needed something good to look forward to right now.

Which brought her to the third thing that moseyed its way into her sated brain – where in the hell was her something good at this time of night? Because he sure as hell was nowhere close to her.

Her body was cool, not cold, but he definitely wasn't lying nearby. Man was a furnace no matter the season. She'd have been able to feel him straight away. Beth blinked into the darkness. Her sight wavered and readjusted as they searched the tree line.

She could feel her body's dull ache without even needing to move. He'd painted bruises all over her light skin. That was easy enough to gather, she could see them without looking. They were splotched along her hip bones, where he'd gripped so tightly, where she'd felt the grit covering his hands dig in and imbed itself in her flesh. They ringed her wrists like new bracelets, and her fingers, that he'd held like lifelines, pulsed with a bone deep throb that radiated all the way down to the apex of her thighs. They spotted her breasts and stomach, her thighs, and perhaps her throat.

Burning on the taught fleshy part of her tummy were red abrasions that crisscrossed her bellybutton. He'd pawed at her as if trying to reach her organs, her spine, her beating heart, hugged her to him until she couldn't breathe. Beth was pretty sure if she had the muscle, it was sore and aching, that she'd used it to survive his needs.

My needs too.

Her walls gave an inquisitive little flutter at the memory, and the next inhale lodged in her chest. He'd been a force in and of himself when he'd landed behind her. Hotter than the evening sun that'd slowly been lowering away from them, Daryl had swallowed her up, arms wrapped tight, breath hitching and rasping in a way that'd wound her tighter than his hold. His movements had been rough, but even through the unintentional dollops of pain; she'd been able to feel his fear. He'd shook with each push and pull on her body. Knowing what was running rampant through his mind right now might not be a possibility, not until that man of hers had time to sort through it, but she'd been more than willing to give him what he needed.

She'd needed it too, since he'd first whipped his eyes up her body at the Sanctuary. It was irrational how quickly she'd reacted to his proximity.

But shockingly enough, the physical stuff, what she had thought might be their biggest obstacle since the beginning of their relationship, had barely been a blip on the troubles radar. This world did mental trauma like a southern belle did a social event: all day with copious amounts of flare. So much so, that it was friggin' impossible for the people living in it to cope a lot of the time. It'd sure done a number on her, that much was true. He might not react the same way as she had, but if he did, than Daryl might be looking at a personal reality filled with a lot of extremes for the foreseeable future.

Beth just hoped she hadn't already messed anything up by giving into her own baser urges.

Even though she'd told Jesus that Daryl was fine, it was alright to admit to herself now, in the haven of her own mind, that she'd felt a scrabbling trepidation at the way he'd shaken his head in denial at the sound of her voice. His breath had grated in an awful and sickened way while he'd inserted the key to his bike. Like he hadn't heard, or had, but didn't want to. Almost like, like he was getting used to things talking to him that weren't really there.

And his face when he'd seen her, that expression. It'd taken everything she had, not to break down in tears. More than likely, that would have been the worst thing she could have done in that situation. Her crying, it would have made him panic, made him more likely to strike out at either friend or foe. But it'd been so freaking much to take.

There was the relief of having him with her, the rage of being separated in the first place, and the sadness – of knowing only a small degree of what he'd gone through, been thinking, and what she still had yet to tell him. That Negan had lied not only about her, but their child that wasn't. How she'd helped to make him feel even more wretched than the circumstances had allowed for already.

She felt her hand spasm at the thought of that first contact, her palm to the back of his shivering hand. It'd collapsed walls and worlds in her mind and brought her fully back into herself for the first time since Negan's people had abducted them. It'd been campfire deer on the side of the road with his fingers laced with hers, morning pears with him looking embarrassed but pleased with her surprise syrupy-kiss, the morning after…his thumb sweeping impatiently along her side, hard and ready, but only worried about how she was doing. All together in a single small touch that had barely lingered, but felt like a punch for all it made her feel in the brief moments that it happened.

But where was he now?

She rolled to one side, head leaving her jeans that he'd apparently made into a pillow for her, feeling the flare of his artwork in all the known places, searching carefully along the perimeter for any sign. Had he finally been able to have her out of sight? Doubtful. The more probable thing was that he was out there just out of her own view. Watching. Keeping an eye on her and everything else for the past...however long it had been since she'd all but passed out.

With him still...

A new detail.

Beth slid her thighs together and stifled a moan. Her legs stuck together slightly, the most exquisite pain yawned up into her lower belly. Her tongue felt burnt, like she'd tried to eat a steaming meal too quickly - sipped boiling water for fun. There was the barest trace of copper there, and she wasn't sure whose blood it was. For all her pains she felt loose limbed, as she rocked back and forth experimentally on her side, humming at the coarseness of the bedroll against her butt and calves.

A shiver hit her and heat dripped low in her stomach as one of the shadows detached itself from the ground and moved towards her silently, seemingly unable to ignore the innocuous noises and movements she was making.

Not for the first time, Beth likened him to a god, a woodland one that was roughly hewn, but no less awe inspiring because of it. He towered above her as she twisted her neck in an attempt to view his face. Head bare, he'd lost the stolen hat in the middle of throttling that foot soldier, his face was cast in an inscrutable darkness by dark hair and the angle he watched her at. It didn't matter though, she could feel twin pools of black-shot blues on her as he stood there wordlessly, chin tipped down in her direction. Any agitation he had was masked by everything but his fingers, which twitched and rubbed against one another in the otherwise quiet campground. The clothes he'd pilfered were ill-fitting and baggy on his frame to the point where, with the decreased visibility, he almost appeared to her to be someone else altogether.

The gravel and buckshot though, when it came, was all Daryl. "You up?"

She nodded slowly, gripping the flap of the sleeping bag in a silent command to herself to remain calm. Her bruises seemed to heat and pulse, as if his nearness would make them blossom, like flowers for the sun. A long mental tirade took place in the space of a breath, hadn't she learned a damn thing from their relationship so far? Sex was not enough to help him heal, get him through whatever the situation was that shredded his mind. It hadn't stopped him from obsessing over the pantry and Alexandria's food shortage, and it definitely wouldn't help him recover from thinking he'd played a part in getting her killed.

So she just needed to knock it the hell off.

No matter how cunt-shattering that sex was, no matter how wet she got, or how much he begged…Her throat itched with dryness and Beth wanted very much to smack herself on the side of the head.

It was very possible his coming over here had nothing to do with that.

For instance, it was as good a time as any for them to switch who was on watch. Had been nice of him to stay up, considering what Dwight and Negan had been doing to him. She could only imagine how exhausted he must be. There was also little chance that he was already prepared to open up and tell her how he was feeling about everything. Her being alive, the way it had all unfolded, even what they'd just got done doing a few hours ago.

It'd be good for him to get some sleep.

She was being totally irrational.

His head bobbed in his own answer, and then thick fingers and broad hands came up to undo his pants. Beth only had a moment for a surprised inhale, as he stepped over her, lying down behind with his back to the log. Even as her center pooled startling fast and her pulse trilled against her throat with anticipation, she still tensed as he slid underneath their thin cover.

There were certain complications to this scenario.

She was tender everywhere. No way had she known just how enthusiastically she'd be able to adapt to his roughness. How wonderful it could be, being unable to restrain sound or reaction from the force that, instead of bringing debilitating pain, had brought explosive amounts of pleasure instead. He'd never insisted on sex before the last time, and just as it was with the last time, he'd never had to really. But admittedly, she wasn't sure if she should be letting this happen or not. On one hand, the ferocity of him had been everything she could have dreamed of after coming so near to losing one another.

She'd wanted him just as desperately as he had her.

But sweet mercy, was she sore.

Her contemplations got a bit sidetracked as Daryl rumbled like an oncoming summer storm, swept over her like one too. It made her sort of forget for the moment, that this might not be the heathiest way to deal with trauma. His chest was a thunderhead, vibrating and growling with the force of the gale that swirled within him. There was strength to everything he did, especially his softer more deliberate motions. His skimming fingertips brought with them a heady shudder, and a rolling wave of goosebumps that rushed from nape to thighs. Barely controlled breathing chased the raised flesh in warm waves that billowed spasmodically near the crook of her neck.

And his heat.

It made Beth want to sob. Everything yesterday (if she could count it as yesterday, more like a handful of hours) had happened so quickly. They'd both been more than half out of their minds. Punishing one another for being away, for being in danger, for being dead, and at the same time rewarding one another for surviving yet again, when they'd had no expectation to.

When Daryl's hand slid warm and heavy up her torso, grazed an already hard peak through her tank top, and came to rest above her heart, Beth couldn't stop herself. Her next breath was too hard and lasted far too long. It released in a watery hiccup that was followed by several more. His palm rode along with the uneven breaths as he moved to shield her further with his body, blanketed her in warmth, his arm constricting to hold her closer.

There was no shake in his touch, but a tremble. A murmur, instead of a scream, compared to what she'd felt in him the last time. Now it was her turn. Beth cried as silently as she could, wrapping her hand around his bigger one and letting them both feel the pounding in her chest.

Together.

It looped through her mind, struck waiting nerves along her frame.

He was stiff and twitching, an undemanding pressure against her ass, he'd obviously been like this for some time while she lay sleeping. The question of just how long he'd been waiting for her in his current state spiraled through her mind. But it got lost when Daryl began circling the area of her heart with his hand. The perimeter growing by degrees and steadying her a little as he went. She started to calm down. His scruff on her neck, face skimming the sensitive skin there, before he was burrowing into the sweat-matted confines of her hair, and breathing deep.

His hand dragged itself down her body, and once again Beth tensed without meaning to. What was the right move? The right choice? Would this help or hurt him? She didn't know. Couldn't decide if letting it continue was for him or for her, and there was no way she could trust his judgement right now. She needed to be the one to decide.

But, it just felt sooo…

The deliciously dogged journey against her skin stopped, waited, and then he was abashedly pulling away from her. The hot length of him left shiver-cool strips against her cheeks, where he'd begun to slowly rock.

"Wait," she said, the word almost chunky sounding in her tear-soaked throat.

He gave a great exhale, dampening her neck, and then his fingers were tripping down her side, lifting an already bruised thigh. Gently, so very carefully, he hoisted it up and back, his hold light, like it wasn't there at all. Giving her plenty of leeway to stop him, to pull away if that's what she wanted.

"Please." Beth sunk into him when his plea whispered itself against the back of her ear. She was a hurricane of indecision, but it was so hard to deny him anything when his lips and teeth were nicking that particular piece of cartilage. "Please."

When she swiveled her neck towards him, Daryl slid his other arm underneath, pillowing her head on his bicep. He'd always been attentive before, maybe not when riled, but he couldn't help but be observant. Had keyed into what and when she'd wanted something, especially if that something was him.

Giving herself up for lost, Beth went to kiss him, confusion causing her to freeze when he immediately jerked away from the attempt.

He didn't want to kiss her? Good gracious lord, the man had about suffocated her yesterday with his oh so adamant and searching tongue. And now he was getting shy? Things might be worse than she'd figured them to be, had no one to blame but herself, for letting things get this far without trying to address it.

Making up her mind, Beth attempted to pull her leg from his grasp, only to have Daryl clutch it to him. She winced as the muscle strained and at once began to cramp.

"M'mouth's all..." He trailed off, and she didn't need it to be light outside in order to know that he was shying away from her gaze.

"Sore?" Beth prompted quietly, in an attempt to get those pursed lips of his moving. "You're not the only one." Daryl shook his head without offering any other response, slowly massaging all along her thigh, perhaps so in tune with her that he'd felt her small cringe and knew what she needed, or he might just want the feel of her under his hand. Whatever the reason, he was officially making her shift restlessly against him, which didn't seem entirely fair. She was trying to do the right thing. "Talk," she commanded gently. "Not askin' for all of it, but ya gotta start somewhere."

He hesitated a moment longer, fingers slipping into the crease of her thigh. "Shouldn'a kissed ya b'fore, taste like—"

Oh for –

Scoffing and reaching up to his hanging hair, she pulled him down to her mouth. He was chapped and dry, but still soft, still so good. She went easy on him at first, or tried to, moved her lips unhurriedly. Prodded at his, kindly but unmercifully, until he gave in with a shallow whimper. It soon preoccupied her more than she'd planned, had only wanted to get him comfortable, but after a few achingly slow connections, Beth realized just how long it'd been since they'd simply kissed. Not using it as a precursor to something else, not clashing tongues and teeth together in the middle of chasing each other's orgasm.

Just his mouth on hers, still unsure after all this time, but dedicated in trying to do whatever she wanted with it.

Sounds, somewhere between whines and cries, were leeching from his throat with each second she spent tasting him.

Beth wasn't sure when it was, that she started arching back into him, or when their chaste kiss started to involve her tongue gliding teasingly in and out from between his lips. It triggered him to chase her down, lick his way into her. His probing strokes caught along her taste buds, and she got the chance to see what he'd been so worried about. Beth's lips curved against his sweetly, when he pulled away from her with a hum of inquiry. Their bodies still moved leisurely (for the most part) against one another, her stomach flexing and hips circling.

"Well, I don't know what ya tasted like before," she said honestly. "But now you just taste like me." He made a grating noise, his hand sliding once more to the apex of her thighs, but then stalling out once again. "Still can't?" she asked, with a kiss to his clenched jaw.

He grunted, shaking his head the tiniest bit in order to not disturb her deliberate ministrations.

"Gonna go look for water, soon as it's light."

His added squeeze voiced the we so he didn't have to.

She'd be going with him.

"Just go slow," she said, grinding more intently into him.

Ok so they were doing this, but just this time, just once more.

To get him calmed back down.

Yeah…that was it.

The hand on her thigh continued its kneading, but she could tell he was debating something.

There was a moment where she was afforded a chance of being saved from herself, if he wasn't certain that it was a good idea either, than she'd absolutely be able to weigh in on the side of caution and hold off.

She was almost sure.

"Ya really don' like touchin' yerself?"

Or not.

Overcoming her sudden urge to hide, she shook her head instead. "It takes me out of it for some reason, I don't know why."

There was quiet for a beat, and then the tickle of his whiskers were back on her bare shoulder.

"Me niether, 'bout the best thing I've ever felt." Her breathing picked up as he tilted his hips back, cock sliding down the crack of her ass in an electric line that fried the air from her lungs. Daryl rocked back and forth methodically, edging at her soaked lips, making Beth's head loll onto his arm as his next words were breathed out. "Or tasted."

She kept her leg propped up long enough for him to line up at her entrance, hissing when he first began to press in, stretching her abused muscles even as they tried to loosen enough to accept him. His tremors were back full force, and she didn't know if it was his new feverish need to touch her, or if he'd have shaken this badly no matter the scenario.

Daryl began mouthing at her shoulder, her neck, her jaw, chest heaving against her back as he swiveled in her swollen hole, until Beth thought she'd scream.

"Lil' more," she begged, sinking nails into the hand that had gone back to clutching her thigh, urging him on. "Daryl."

"Alrigh', fuck," Daryl groaned lowly into her hair as he pushed another slow inch in. "How bad did I fuckin' hurt'cha earlier?"

Beth echoed his noise. "A lot." She could hear the smile in her voice, the blade's edge grin as she shoved her hips back, successfully sheathing him within her clamping walls. "Do it again."

Once more, just once.

A choked sound made it clear of his throat, turning into something closer to a pained growl. He didn't move though, she could just hear his measured breaths, feel the pulsing inside her.

"Nah," he panted, and she closed her eyes to savor the jagged quality of his voice. "Said ya wanted it slow." Needle pricks near her neck as he shook his head almost harshly, a note of warning in the adamant way he kept his prodding pace sluggish.

At first it seemed like he was making her pay for her little bit of fun. His rocking was tortuous, dick coating itself with each measured stroke, gradually stretching her. Each time Beth tried to up his speed, or buck her hips in agitation, he used the hold on her hip to stop her. That, and the man had a maddening sense when it came to knowing when she was about to try something, moving with her to cancel out any of her sudden movements, making her chase his dick with little to no reprieve.

Beth didn't know anymore, which one of them was more unbalanced. The only thing that apparently made any sense, was her need for him to be fucking her until she could feel him hot and surging as deeply as possible. And wasn't that just another thing they were going to need to talk about? She sure as hell needed to deal with how damn attached she was becoming to having him bare, having him emptying everything he had into her.

What it meant that he seemed to feel the same.

"You're real interested in listenin' to me all of a' sudden huh?"

She'd meant it to be teasing, but either she'd missed the mark or it tripped something in his too raw psyche. The gust of breath at her nape was followed with a snapping thrust that kicked a cry of relief from her. He kept his out-strokes slow, built the anticipation to a dizzying amount, and then slammed the breath out of her on his way back in. Her heartbeat was in her throat, pounding in her tongue, blocking her ears with the force. It picked up until she was sure it'd burst, but instead of being worried, she pursued it like a death wish. He still wasn't letting her do much of anything, but she got her arm up and around to cradle the back of his head, held him close as the occasional slap of skin echoed around their clearing.

"I didn't-naaah." Her response turned into a wail as he pulled almost all the way out before plunging back in with a grunt.

Daryl's hand dropped her thigh without warning, making her have to work in order to not choke as the change in position tightened the passage he was rutting into. She expected his hand's destination to be her breasts, after all, he'd made his love for that part of her anatomy well known. But after giving one a cursory squeeze, he was once more covering her racing heart with his palm, feeling as the drumroll happened below her sternum. His hand on her heart was better than if that same pressure had been applied to her clit, and Beth sobbed out a moan while snaring her fingers deeper into his hair.

She'd had to cut herself off for the past several days, had been cold and detached in order to complete what needed to be done. But similarly to when she'd almost lost herself after Grady, Daryl wouldn't let that coldness remain.

Her cunt was a molten hardline to the rest of her body, running scalded tracks to her spine, her heart, the neck and skull that reared back into his arm as he finally picked up the pace and ran smelted iron throughout the rest of her body. Beth knew he was close when his rhythm began to falter, when that hand on her chest slid up to her throat like it had yesterday. Not to squeeze or tighten, but to feel her erratically beating pulse, the one thundering in the hollow of her throat.

The noise he made when he came, a hoarse cry, the warm gushing spill of him inside her – told her how badly he'd needed the release. In comparison, Beth's own orgasm actually hit her in a surprisingly quiet way.

Much, much, quieter than what she'd expected it to be, but still beautiful, because of its peace.

It stole her breath, pressed tears from her eyes, strained her muscles so that Daryl had to cage her to him, but otherwise, she was silent as the storm rolled through.

Full and satisfied, Beth couldn't help the lethargic way she slid along his slowly softening dick. The inquisitive way she rotated herself around him, felt something heated roll down her thigh in a thick drip.

This was a new kind of reckless.

They laid breathing until the first light peeked over the treetops.

Never so fucked out before in her life, idly watching the changing hues of the world around her, Beth refused to move a single centimeter. Instead, she kept her back pressed firmly along his chest and stomach, counting his exhales as, at first, they evened out and then began to stutter. The abdominal muscles against her spine, separated by two thin layers of clothing, flexed as he pulled out. Shifting around until she was facing him, Beth squirmed to tuck herself against his frame.

Possibly he'd planned a retreat of some kind, but she wasn't looking to let that happen.

Hands to his cheeks and lips to his, sweeping away the small trails of moisture with her thumbs, she kept him right where he was. There with her. Daryl burrowed into her hold, scrubbing the emotion away as he held her gaze, rested a heavy arm on her side. It'd been purgatory, being apart; knowing every hour that ticked by was filled with some unmentionable amount of hell for him.

Beth peered into his eyes, held his face steady when he would have pulled away.

The strengthening light of the rising sun helped to highlight those features of the face she loved best. Not surprisingly at the moment, they looked entirely wrecked as he looked back at her. Days. That's all it had been, not even a full week, but it felt like months. Years even. Tracing the new characteristics of his expression, she realized that he in fact appeared to be years older. Each day, each hour, had carved new lines in him, deepened the darkness under his eyes. He was lifetimes more haggard than she'd noticed when first seeing him next to his motorcycle at the Sanctuary, at the time she'd only cared that he was up on two feet and moving.

"Know it's my fault," She nearly gaped at him, shocked, as her fingers twitched, ruffling some of his scruff as he kept talking. "Heard what ya said b'fore, that it wasn't." Head shaking in her hands, whiskers sliding and catching between her knuckles, he hugged her with his shrug. "But you were right the first time around." He kept her gaze, clearly miserable. "I fucked it all up again."

"I didn't say that," she answered, feeling as her brows bunched. "I'd never say that 'cause it isn't true."

A breath was shot hard from his nose as he tried to move back, hand coming up in order to gently push hers away from him. It was bad luck, and she marveled that it hadn't happened prior to this point, that his rough palm caught on the stitches in her arm. It wasn't a hard grip, but it snagged the black weaving and made her bite back a yell.

Daryl was half up by the time she could finish her next blink, head dropping quickly without his support, her arm suddenly cradled between both of his. Without him saying a thing, she read his frustration, as he traced the multiple winding lines that went down her forearm. Knowing Daryl, the anger was two-fold, that the wound was there in the first place, and that he obviously hadn't noticed it until now.

"How?"

She shook her head at his question, he was not about to change the subject after what he'd just said. Raising herself up a bit, Beth snared his gaze when he tried to look away from her.

"I didn't say that."

His eyes finally managed to skitter away from hers, gentle rotation of her arm to check the work, and he at last glanced back up at her through his hair. "Gonna be stubborn about this, ain'tcha?" Beth's forehead wrinkled with her climbing brow line. That really shouldn't have ever been in question.

Had he not met her?

"Mhmmm."

Some fingers came up to glide near one of the tracks, probably checking for heat or irritation, she watched as he shook his head again. Noticed not for the first time how brutally he did so. Questioning what he saw? Or what he hadn't?

"Maybe it was in my head," he said, low like a confession. "Thought ya came to me right after…after the road." He let go of her and got to his feet, tucking himself back into his pants with a zip. "Told me you were dead, that it was my fault." Beth snatched her clothes up and began yanking them into place as he went on, only able to zip the jeans he'd successfully popped the button off of. "Told me ya loved me." His voice went hoarse, and Beth was so busy watching his face that she got her boot on the wrong foot and had to start over. "Said ta' stay alive, to listen to you this time."

With a self-directed huff she stood up, surprised when he didn't flinch away. She needed to be touching him. He needed it too, no matter how tangled his head was at the moment. And he knew that, she could tell he did. Cheeks hot when she once again placed her cooler palms against them. Body taught but still, he was trying so hard to not escape from whatever she was about to say next.

"I did see you right after, but you had a concussion and you'd lost a lot of blood." She moved a hand to graze high up on his chest, he stayed totally still, either there wasn't any pain in the wound or he couldn't care enough to feel it. His eyes were piercing under his lashes, and she tilted his chin up, if only to prove she had nothing to hide. "Told you I wasn't dead, and that they'd try to make you think it was your fault but it wasn't." Daryl curled his body into hers. Beth tipped their foreheads together. Her fingers riffled through his facial hair, her lungs sighed when his did. "Because it wasn't, Daryl."

"Thought it was you sayin' goodbye," he whispered, and even now she could tell how much the idea mangled him. How much his belief had worked to crush and ravage what was left of his sanity after thinking he'd gotten her killed "Ghost. Spirit. Somethin'."

She shook her head, keeping their foreheads together so that his head moved side-to-side with hers in a slow denial. He was all raw edges, frayed beyond belief, but she knew him. He was stronger than he'd ever been willing to give himself credit for, and twice as kind as he'd ever admit to. Beth didn't think there were ways enough or words enough to tell him how much she loved him.

To blame him for her death?

Impossible.

To ever blame him for anything, even the shit he actually did do now and then that made her want to throttle him was difficult for her sometimes. And this reaction that she was seeing, the way he turned all that pain inward, was exactly why she'd always find it hard to.

There was a time, like when he'd berated her about taking a mirror's sharp edge to her wrists, that Beth had thought it was because he coped by doing the opposite of what she saw now, that he lashed out all around him to keep the aches at bay. But actually, he'd been so filled with the malignancy of his life growing up, that there hadn't been an untorn section left in him. He'd had to redirect that hurt in order to survive.

"You're stuck with me a while longer, Mr. Dixon." She moved back enough to see his face, watched as he swallowed roughly then sank his hands into her back pockets.

With a surprised laugh she was hauled up against his body, feet leaving the ground as she wrapped her hands around his neck. Daryl nuzzled along her cheek, bumped their noses together, took careful breaths while feeling her warm and alive against every inch of him. At last, he sat her back down, giving her ass a final squeeze and letting her go, only to catch her stitched arm.

This time a pointed look followed his question.

"How?"

She shrugged, hooking a free finger underneath his shirt to feel the small springing hairs along his stomach. "He said he had to make that swing look believable."

Something wild and nearly frenzied flashed in his eyes, and the rest of her hand joined her fingers in stroking calming passes over his jumping skin. There was something not quite right there. Unsurprisingly, he wasn't the same person as he'd been before. That was understandable. She certainly wasn't the same person that had sat and sang in a funeral home for him. It just needed to not get him hurt, get him killed. She'd have to make sure he could get a handle on it. They'd somehow changed places without her ever expecting to. She was going to have to keep him alive until the chaos Negan had inserted into his head was able to dissipate.

"Let's go get that water."

Daryl blinked multiple times, locking away one rabid thought at a time while she watched in a kind of morbid fascination. It was like watching a fire smother itself slowly – that storm she'd felt raging at her back gave one more gust for a final time before withering away to a breeze.

Appearing more like himself once more, he tentatively scooped up her hand in his, lacing their fingers haltingly as if he'd almost forgotten how. Beth gave him a smile, a real one, as big and as bright as she could. Because even if she was worried, could guess at some of the issues coming up, he was with her again. They were together, everything else would come later, but this moment was her orgasm flowing through her in an echo.

Peace.

For now, peace.

They'd only trekked halfway through the small clearing, Daryl having finally agreed to don his vest and bow again, when she started noticing the walkers that lay unmoving under the gently swaying trees. She counted five in all, and that was only to the left side of their campground. Snapping her sight to the man at her side, Beth glared at him until the narrowness of her eyes inhibited some of her vision. Perceptive as ever, he attempted to hold her stare for all of an instant before dipping his chin and tightening his grip. Clearly worried that she'd sever their connection, Daryl brought them to a stop and motioned dismissively at the sprawling dead.

"Told ya I'd take care of anythin' that came lookin'." He was chewing at the inside of his lip and white-knuckling his bow strap. "Didn' wanna wake ya after…"

Heat like a Georgia summer smacked into her and Beth took a stuttering inhale that greatly diminished her ability to keep scowling as she had been. Those particular memories might mess with her ability to have a coherent thought for decades to come. Stepping into him, she curved an arm around his waist, and watched as some of the color came back into his fingers. They desperately needed to find some water, enough to drink and ideally enough to wash up with, but there were things she needed to be sure of before they left the clearing.

"That was sweet of ya," she murmured, watching how he shifted, obviously expecting what she was about to say next. "But you gotta trust that I can help when it comes to a fight." He gave a little shaking wobble of his head, causing another wave of nostalgia to crash into her. "If you don't, I'm gonna holler atcha somethin' fierce, just like you did to me after Grady. There's no reason for either one of us to risk gettin' bit when we work so well as a team."

Daryl's face scrunched up on one side, cheek bunching as his mouth yanked down at the corners.

When he was still silent, she dug her nails into his back, grinning at his grunt and the reluctance of his eventual nod. Letting go of the strap, he combed nearly blackened fingers through the insanity that was her hair. She'd never gotten a chance to redo it after he'd started things last night. Beth made a face, feeling all of the many snares and tangles he encountered on his way through. Daryl stalled momentarily, his face lightening a bit as something occurred to him. Freeing himself in careful movements, his hand dug into the pocket of the too large pants hanging loose on his hips.

Curious, she leaned over to see what he extracted, air dying in her chest when she finally saw.

A strip of cloth.

Torn and worn through in spots, covered in something that looked suspiciously like blood, Daryl deposited the precious thing in her palm. She couldn't see again, but at least this time the tears remained within the confines of her lids.

"L'find ya some water," he promised quietly. "Get washed up an' I'll get it tied back on. If ya want."

She nodded jerkily, fisting her hand over the cloth and wrapping her arms around him.

They'd be ok.

They had to.

Leave me any thoughts you have time for, I really appreciate it!