XXIII.

It was the weirdest thing, a small thing, a little peck on the lips, barely there, but it was still the weirdest thing Daryl had ever done all in his life. As he walked away from the group into the woods, he felt a heat rising at the back of his neck, feeling Beth's eyes still staring at him, and everyone else.

He fucking hated it, but there was no other choice, either. He gotta man up, and owned it, so Daryl did it. He pecked Beth at the lips in front of everyone, small in gesture, big in meaning.

We're at it, get over it.

Though he still could barely get over it himself, wrapped around his mind he'd spent the whole night holding Beth in his arms, would've had even sex with her in the morning if they hadn't been interrupted.

It'd happened so abrupt, so… fuck, he almost yelled, recalling the way she looked when he had found her, recalling his own fear as he'd seen her arm, slashed furiously up from her wrist to her elbow, and his anger… Fucking stupid Daryl Dixon, because he knew he was the reason… he knew he made her do it…hurt her like this…and guilt and shame accompanied the anger like always, and he'd started hitting the tree, he could hardly beat the hell out of himself, couldn't he?

He looked at his still bloodied knuckles, flesh torn open. But seriously what the fuck she had been thinking, cutting herself like that…in this infected fucking world… Don't leave me again, please.

It was his damn fault. If he hadn't pushed her away like he'd done, if he hadn't told her about Maggie out of spitefulness, but instead he'd manned up and accepted this thing between them, it wouldn't have been like that. She wouldn't have been like that.

Fuck, even trying to protect her from harm, he'd managed to fail her again. Daryl grumbled out, looking around the woods, trying to find a creek. Water was the first priority as well, and if there was a sign of those damn wolves, Daryl knew it was gonna be somewhere close to a water source.

The quiet of the woods calmed his nerves like always, as he tried to wrap his mind what had happened. He would never let her go out of his sight, never again, not even for a second, her slashed forearm were just added to his repertoire of nightmares… She wasn't supposed to be like this, it was so wrong, so wrong he couldn't even begin to tell how wrong it was; self-harm was a shit people like Daryl Dixon did, not people like Beth.

But he knew it was his own damn shit, so he could deal with it. He'd never let Beth be like that, never. So, he obviously got a girl now.

And he had no idea what that fuck meant. Was he her boyfriend now? Her lover? It sounded so stupid he didn't even know if he'd swear or laugh. But last night… the last night… It was worst of his nights, but it was still best of his nights, too. Worst was seeing her like that, his anger and guilt, too, but it was still the best, simply because he'd passed whole night holding her in his arms, caressing her hair, whispering into her ear.

Daryl had realized she fit along his body perfectly, like she was chiseled out specifically for him, as if they were carved out specifically to hold each other between in their embrace. She was even softer than he remembered, and she was close, so close, like she was a part of him, a piece of him, and she was. She was a part of him, the best part. Even funeral home wouldn't have come closer to the last night, watching her as she slept, telling her he'd stayed, feeling her humming with content, nesting herself against him back.

Daryl couldn't even remember the last time he'd slept with anyone like that, if he had ever, but it felt so good, so right, and he really felt like a thickheaded prick not do it earlier. Daryl knew he should've been afraid, he'd always hated intimacy, always felt himself trapped, but right then, right that moment he felt only alive, blood rushing inside his vein, making him remember once again they weren't dead, not yet.

Perhaps having a girl wasn't that bad, either, he also accepted, remembering the morning, because at the morning it'd became even better, and he'd kissed her… like he'd let himself imagine a few times before when his guards had crumbled in the long, cold nights, keeping watches, and before he'd teased her, and it really felt like funeral home—just them out in the woods, alone, seeing if it would work out.

But they weren't alone. They were with the group, and out there were the monsters, too. Focusing ahead, he wandered his eyes again, trying to find at least a game. Their supplies were getting thinner, and soon they were going to entirely depend on what he would find, hunt in the woods. They'd better find a place to hole up before the winter arrived fully, and Beth and Amanda were right on that point, even though Daryl still didn't know how he felt about it—searching for the monsters. Daryl Dixon was no damn hero, he didn't do this shit, but Beth had put it in her mind, he could see, so that was once again the end of the story for him.

Not that he would ever let her come with them searching, of course, never. He'd enough scares of a lifetime, and he was really too old for this shit.

His face soured as the familiar phrase brought back the familiar insecurities, the greasy, sticky feel of not being the right one for her, and he pushed it down with vehemence, remembering how right it felt last night, it wasn't wrong. He told it himself, a couple times, this…perhaps wasn't still right, but it was what she needed, and he'd promised—he'd promised he would never leave her again, and he didn't want to leave her—ever again, even though he was an unworthy sonofabitch, he still wanted her, he still wanted this—them being together, kissing and everything… and if he was going to burn in the hell for an eternity for it, Daryl decided he would, he would burn gladly.

# # #

Amanda wanted to hit something, repeatedly. In fact, she wanted to hit at someone repeatedly, but as of the moment she could settle with hitting at anything, a walker or a damn cowboy with a slight southern drawl... she wasn't picky. Something inside her was raging, howling with silent cries, poking at her pins and needles, biting…

She grumbled at the thought, her mouth turning down—she was starting hating that fucking word, and she fucking hated Rick Grimes, too. She winced and the corner of her mouth twitched—and she almost shouted at the top of her lungs with every swear word known to mankind, she knew she should stop, it was bad—anger fogged the mind, made you dumb, and she was never dumb. Being dumb was another luxury she could never afford, not now, not then.

She had to cool down. Being angry was as useless as being depressed if it couldn't turn into a motive. Despite the satisfaction it'd bring, there was no point with being angry with Rick. It wasn't like that he'd done anything, either, it was her who had started it last night; he had done nothing.

Her face soured further. Nothing. She was starting hating that word, too. That was exactly what I kept saying whenever Daryl made me mad with his antics. She walked toward the girls. She needed her mind focused on something else. Since they'd stay here for the day, she better made another lesson with the girls. Soon they wouldn't have another chance. Whitney was still whining, and if Amanda would lose her temper, she would as least have a cover.

She let out a silent derisive snort. She didn't even know why she was this riled. So yeah, he'd bit her, and a part of her wanted him to do much more, but so what? They always had that tension between them, it was no news. Once she thought…felt…they had… she stopped the thought again, much like the last time. They had nothing.

Nothing.

The thing was…the thing that truly worried her, because if she had to completely honest with herself Amanda was angry the most…at herself. She didn't know why she did what she did. Since the morning she was trying to understand what had really driven her to test him again last night, and she couldn't find any reason whatsoever, either than…she wanted to do it… And it was bad, like with capital.

You're enjoying this, aren't you…pushing my damn buttons?

God, she was an idiot. But she was, she was enjoying it—pushing his buttons to see how he would shove back…and he did shove back, good lord, did he shove back… her hand touched the mark at the corner of her mouth, as she trembled and frowned, yanking her hand back.

This had to be stop. It was stupid, served no purpose. She wasn't like this, she didn't do things for fun, and it made her feel threatened again…the lines blurring. Amanda was a creature of familiar patterns, of comfort zones, even in the apocalypse. She liked things to stay the way they were, she hated change. In the safe zone, you were in control, but every change meant a risk. With each step you took out you were also faced with losing what you had in your hands, so she hated taking unnecessary risks, never challenged anyone or anything unless it became necessary. Testing the waters while growing bouncing off foster homes to learn what kind of people she'd ended up with was a necessity, not a game—why they'd taken her in? What were their motives? Money or a longing for children, or simply being good citizens, or something else…? And she'd had to learn them, learn the reasons behind their actions if she wanted to protect herself.

With Rick, there was no reason for that, not anymore. She'd learned enough of him to understand what cloth he was made of, and she'd made her decision to stay with him, despite anything. She needed to be a part of them. She wanted to be a part of…his family, and she was…trying. So there was really no logical reason for what she'd done last night, provoking him like that and got bitten at the end.

What are you then…?

The question caught her so unawares she couldn't have even formed a reply back, but only backed away. She hadn't known how to answer truly. Amanda always knew what she didn't want to be. She didn't want to be a victim of circumstances, didn't want to follow the footsteps that laid to her at the birth, the poor little orphan girl, didn't want to be a dirty cop like everyone expected her to end up because it was her, like it was…her fate and she couldn't escape from it. No, Amanda made her own destiny.

But what she was exactly, she didn't know. She knew she wasn't Beth, knew she wasn't Michonne, but those didn't explain who she was, and she was getting bored with defining herself with all the people she wasn't. You could be more…

Perhaps Beth was right, she really could be more, but even though she was trying, she could still remember the feel of hands at her neck and how it felt seeing the distrust in Rick's eyes. Yes, Amanda could be very forgiving when she wanted, but she didn't easily forget. The whole situation was getting out of control, and she hated when it happened, too. So she was keeping her distance, trying to balance her checkbook to see how sums were adding up. So she wasn't avoiding him. She was regrouping. She'd fallen back, calling a tactical retreat, to analyze the situation, and adjust her position accordingly.

She did it countless time, hell, her whole life was just that… adjusting her position… her eyes wandered around for a second, and found Rick looking at her from afar, standing beside Carl, holding his baby girl in his arms—and she snapped her head away so quick, for a moment she felt like a moron, her cheeks flushing—and really…she was getting pathetic… She wasn't avoiding him, not at all.

Anger started coming at her again… She forced it down, and instead turned her look at the girls in front of her. They still looked as miserable as ever, and seeing them like that hadn't done any good on her frayed nerves. If they kept doing this, kept being this miserable, they would get themselves killed or worse—caused someone else get killed, and then her conscience would cry over that fact, too, as if she needed something else to worry over.

She really hated when people died on her, leaving her to deal with the aftermath. It left a bitter taste over her tongue, made her feel like a failure, like she had failed, her mind full of what ifs—every time she thought of Grady, she couldn't help it but feel like she'd failed…something, scenarios turning in her mind, and even though she knew the thought was absurd, but it was still there. What Dawn had managed to keep up for more than a year, she managed to break down like…what, in two weeks?

And Whitney was still gripping the damn knife so tight she was going to have a wrist ache in the night. "Whitney—pinch grip… gentle—don't hold the knife too tight, and how many fucking times do I need to tell it?" She walked to the old woman, and held her wrist—the bony, thin withering thing— and felt like a royal bitch yelling at the old woman like this, then with the corner of her eyes she picked up Rick giving the little baby to Carl, and started walking—to them. Her heart started fastening, and really, she was just being stupid— there was no logical reason to act like this… and he was being stupid too, could he just take the hint and leave her the fuck alone.

"How's it going?" Rick asked, standing beside her, looking at the three women with searching eyes, one hand loosely rested on his hip, one leg ahead the other in the pose, and it was like his Sheriff pose, too, something like screaming like cop. Vaguely she understood she had no pose like that—no one could tell she was a cop at the first sight, whereas everyone would assume Rick was—like Lamson did, Lamson had recognized the pose immediately.

What are you then… the question echoed in her mind, and Amanda pursed her lips, getting irritated, "They're okay."

Rick frowned at her answer. "Have they killed a walker yet?" he questioned.

Amanda shook her hair back off her shoulder in defiance for the girls. "Not yet," she said, "I was going to take them out at the church, but after what happened—we kinda get sidetracked."

His frown got heavier. He turned aside to give her a hard look. "They gotta to learn how to defense themselves."

At his tone, Whitney winced, her already watery eyes getting wetted further, as if she could not understand that man was the same man who had given her his own share of the meal last night, and Amanda snickered inside bitterly, welcome to my world, sister… "They will, stop pestering me!"

He shot at her a glare, then his eyes caught at her lips, she just saw it—the blue eyes following the lines of her mouth and fell on the teeth mark—his eyes darkening, and Amanda felt like running… no… retreating.. "Fine," he snapped, his eyes lifting up at hers.

"Good," she snapped back, and they shared a look for a second that felt like eons, and her heart was still beating so fast in her chest…her blood was drumming inside her ears… With a hiss, she turned and stormed off.

She was just walking…away, where she went didn't matter as long as she was going away from him. Then she heard the footsteps, following her behind. "Amanda," he hissed at her back.

She pretended not to hear it, and kept walking.

"Amanda," he called out a bit louder, but still not too loud as they were going out of the camp, "Amanda, stop."

She threw at him a look over her shoulder, "I really don't want to talk to you, Rick," she said tersely, "Leave me alone."

His hand reached to hold her wrist, "I said stop."

Then on reflex, because she was again very angry without any real reason—and because she was so fucking stupid, she reacted. She grabbed his wrist on her hand, too, rising it, and spinning around herself behind his arm bending down, she got behind his back in two quick steps, and twisted up his arm higher, making him a hiss out of his nose. "I told you not to touch me again."

Turning his head aside, he gave her a look, then twisted around too, and within a quick move, he swept her feet off the ground, making her fall down on her back. He mounted over her straddling her outer hips, his hands fixing her at the ground at the shoulders, his eyes darkened—glinting— and he leaned down over her further... Her breath took off.

His weight was heavy on her, and it felt wrong—and felt also good and it really shouldn't… And even though she knew more than five different escapes from the mount position, she didn't move, not even an inch. "Rick—" she said instead, looking at him pointedly— Don't do this.

Though, it really felt good, and her reasons why they wouldn't do it was becoming blurry— goddammit, she wanted him, and it was just sex, couldn't really hurt—they'd just have some wild outdoor sex—nothing serious— she couldn't be anything to him, really… only his mistress…

Her face sobered. "Rick," she called at him again, sterner.

"Why it always has to be like this with you?" he asked, a slight anger edging his tone, too, "I came to talk."

"Really?" she snapped back, her grimace getting heavier, "Each time we talk, I get a bite." She flashed a smile at him, one of the ones he hated, "Maybe we should stop talking."

Rick gave her a look. "Do you want us to?" There's no us... she recalled her own words, staring at him back… the danger bells were running high and clear in her mind, warning her she was about to… tread in the dangerous waters again, too risky to test—and she should pull back, retreat where she knew it was safe, but there was something with Rick Grimes… something that almost made her…wanting to try further… but Amanda really hated getting out of her comfort zone, and trying hadn't worked all that much for her the first time.

Rick was still looking at her, as if waiting through her indecision to make up her mind, because she also realized he wasn't going to make the first move, not Rick Grimes. If they were doing it, it was going to be her decision; he was making sure of it, the damn man… Then he smiled at her… "Scared?" he asked.

And yes, she was, and she hated hearing it from him. She fucking hated him, too. She let out a hiss, then rising her head she caught up his lips, and she bit him.

His hand tightened in her hair in response, pulling her up closer to him and forced her mouth to open as she kept biting his lips, the blood slowly lining over his brushy beard, the metallic taste of it at the tip of her tongue. She tried to reach out and grab his hair too, fighting for dominance, but he caught her hands with his other hand and moving them over her head, he braced them on the ground, pushing her backwards. He broke the kiss a second later, pulling an inch back, and looked at her.

"This's just sex," she then clarified, "And I'm still hating you," and told him as he started lowering his head again for another kiss.

Rick flashed at her another faint smile, almost amused, before claiming her lips again, "I know."

# # #

When Beth found Maggie, sitting under a tree, cleaning her knife with a cloth, her bigger sister wasn't surprised, instead she looked like she was expecting. Beth stood in front of her, looking down at her as Maggie put the cloth aside her on the ground. Her eyes were red, and Beth knew she'd been crying again. Maggie had been crying non-stop after what happened between them, even though Beth had ignored her, she'd seen it, noticed it grudgingly, but also with a bit satisfaction, even though she could never admit it aloud, because she knew her bigger sister was hurt, she'd hurt her, Beth still mattered to her…

She shouldn't felt like this, she knew, but still she did. "Glenn said you were looking for me last night," Maggie said, stabbing he knife into the dirt, too.

Beth nodded. "Yes," she answered, and sat down, "We need to talk."

Maggie stared at her, her eyes watering again, "Beth—I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she mumbled.

Beth shook her head, "Tell me something else," she told her bigger sister back, "Don't tell me you're sorry, but help me understand, make me understand," Because Beth wanted to forgive her, she really did, not only because Amanda had told her she had to make her peace with it, and move on, but because she wanted to move on too, it was a new morning, a new day. Daryl had just kissed her in front of everyone, they had a future together, and she didn't want this hung between like an invisible wall, something Daryl would always blame himself for…no, she wanted them to move on, she just wanted to move on and live… They deserved it. But she just could not understand, could not…accept it. "We're sisters, Maggie," Beth told her then, because it was where it hurt the most, "We're the last of Greenes," she said, "We were supposed to hold each other's back, always. And you didn't care enough to look for me."

Maggie shook her head. "It wasn't like that—Beth, it wasn't like that. I—I-had to find Glenn, but it wasn't like that…"

"Then how was it?" she asked, almost imploring, because she really wanted to understand.

"I—I wanted to look for you, too, but I—I can't live without Glenn, Beth, not anymore. You're my sister, Beth, but he's my husband. I—I had to find him. Do you know what I mean?"

A part of her raged at the idea like the first time, but another part did understand it. Beth could not live without Daryl too, she'd turned out a wreck because he didn't want her—ending up cutting herself, it was stupid, it was sick, perhaps wouldn't have changed anything like he'd said, but Beth couldn't make this world alone anymore, she didn't want to.

"Later—? After Daryl told you I was alive?" she then asked, wordlessly accepting, because she didn't know how to put it into the worlds, because she wasn't sure even if she had forgiven her, even if she'd accepted it-she'd accepted Maggie cared more for Glenn than her, but she wasn't sure if she would ever forget her bigger sister written her off as death this quickly.

Maggie shook her head. "I couldn't—I'm sorry, I just couldn't. I lost so much, Beth, daddy, you, Glenn—then I just found him, and Terminus happened." Tears started rushing out of her eyes, and she shook her head, "Daryl told me you were alive… and I wanted to remember you as you were—I couldn't see it—if I didn't know for sure, you'd be always alive—out there somewhere…h-happy…" The last stumbled on her lips, as her tears turned into a flood, "I am sorry," she mumbled out, holding her face between her hands. "I—I asked Daryl too… if he was really sure—I wanted to know—I had to know…but still couldn't—Daryl did—he left to look for you that night after we talked. Beth, do you understand?" Maggie asked again, imploring, "You're his family, too."

"I know," she said back, her voice simple and clear, because Maggie was right, and because she knew it was true. Daryl was her family, and she was his family, too. She looked at her sister, and simply told her what she felt, "Maggie—it still hurts, knowing that you wrote me off as dead, but I get it now. I accept it. I don't know if I would ever manage to forget it, but I get it."

Through her tears, Maggie nodded, "Thank you. I love you," Maggie said, looking at hopeful, her eyes shining…imploring.

And Beth let out a sigh, standing up, "I know you do, sister," she said, and looked down at her, and told her because she really wanted to move on, and she knew it was going to be a journey and she had to start at somewhere, "and I still love you, too."

Maggie smiled at her, all tears and shines, Beth walked away. She sat down with Carol, Amanda was nowhere to be seen, and waited for her own family to come back. Carol reached out to hold her hand, and gave it a squeeze, a kind, happy at her lips, "I'm glad to see you like this," the older woman said, "You deserve this."

Beth nodded. They deserved this, and she wanted to be his, she wanted to be really his, like two halves of a whole, completing each other, there was her—and he was the rest of her— Before the sun set in, Daryl came back—his hands were empty, and she was hungry—but it didn't matter, she just wanted him.

She walked to him, and hugged him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and placed a kiss at his neck. He was tense at first with her affectionate gesture, stiff and wired, even though he was the one first who had kissed her at the morning, but a later he relaxed, and loosely held her back. "Missed me?" he roughed out, against her skin, and he sniffed… breathing her scent.

She nodded. "I always miss you when you're gone, too, Daryl Dixon," she whispered out. He smiled—she felt it—"Daryl," she then called at him softly, "Make love to me. I don't want to wait anymore. I want us be whole."

Her only answer was his tightening arms around her body before he held her hand and made them walk away.

A/N: Oh my god, I'm finally over with couples getting finally sex! So now... we could move on with the plot bits too. This chapter chapter was supposed to be with the last one, frankly, but I couldn't finish it-so you could think this as a part two from the last one. I'm quite happy about where we are right now; Daryl and Beth settling in their relationship, Amanda and Rick...well, having sex and be in denial generally, heh. I can't wait to get them to Alexandria too, but there is still time for that.

Like always, please review if you feel charitable. I always like hearing from you! Thank you.