"Can I talk to you?"

Andrea nearly gave Daryl a goddamn heart attack when she called out to him from the shadowy part of an alley as he walked back to his apartment after work. He forced himself not to outwardly react to her startling him - he knew she'd just give him shit for it and he was nowhere near in the mood for that right now. He stepped into the dim space to stand across from her, keeping his gaze on her face as he went about lighting up a cigarette.

He figured he needed something to occupy his hands so he wouldn't choke the shit out of her. Andrea had been standing by the Governor since they showed up in Woodbury, and nothing seemed to change since Beth got hurt. If he remembered correctly, there wasn't much love lost between Andrea and Maggie, but he knew that she had nothing but kindness for both Glenn and Beth; so color him surprised when she didn't do anything at all to talk Phillip down as he beat on both of them.

Taking a deep inhale of smoke, he narrowed his eyes at her. On his exhale he spoke. "Fuck d'you wan'?" he bit out around his cigarette.

"Daryl...I didn't know...," she started, wrapping her arms around herself like a shield.

"How long you been fuckin' 'im?" he asked bluntly.

Andrea flinched, cutting her gaze away from him. "I don't really think that's any of your business, Dixon."

Daryl scoffed and braced one of his legs up against the wall behind him. "I'll take tha' as just long enough that you still think the sun shines outta his ass. He pull shit like tha' before? Wha' he did to Maggie and Glenn? To Beth?" His voice rose with each person's name.

She raised her head to meet his eyes. "No," she replied emphatically. "I swear. No."

"Why the fuck didn' you try ta stop 'im? Why was I the only one who said 'nythin?" He could feel his frustration building, his voice getting louder and more raw. "Why the fuck man?"

"Daryl shhhh. Please don't yell," she whispered as she darted her glance furtively towards the end of the alley. "Can I have one of those?" she asked, gesturing to the cigarette in his hand.

He cut a glare at her that had cowed lesser men. When she kept her hand outstretched towards him, he rolled his eyes - both at her stubbornness and at the evidence that he was getting less intimidating in his old age. "Fuckin' fine," he bit out, digging the crushed pack out of his pocket. He leaned forward to light the cigarette for her, taking a moment to observe the details of Andrea's appearance. She looked tired, with dark bags under her eyes. Her once strong figure looked gaunt, her collarbones standing out sharply under her t-shirt.

"I swear to you Dixon, I didn't know he was going to do that. I would never ever condone that. Especially with Beth," she blew out a trail of smoke and continued quietly, as though she didn't want him to hear, "She's all I have left to remind me of Amy."

Although Beth and Amy had never met, he knew what Andrea was getting at when she said that. Beth and Amy were both so light, effervescent and kind. If Amy had lived, he thought that maybe she and Beth would have gotten along well.

They stood in silence for a few minutes as they both finished smoking. After she dropped hers to the ground and crushed it with her boot, Andrea made to leave the alley. Just before she stepped back out into the sunshine, she looked back over her shoulder at Daryl and whispered, "What you should really be asking Daryl, is why Phillip never hurt anyone until your group showed up. What is he suddenly so worried about?"

She gave him a tight smile before slipping out onto the bright sidewalk and out of his sight. What bothered him the most, besides the words themselves, was how easily Andrea's smile could have been mistaken for a grimace.


"Need to talk t' ya," Daryl murmured as he fell in step just behind Rick.

The other man jumped slightly, then quirked a crooked smile over his shoulder at Daryl to cover his reaction. "I'm ashamed of how easy you just got me man. I seem to be lettin' myself get comfortable enough for you to get the jump on me."

Daryl's lips twitched in a small concession to the humor of Rick's reaction. "Get yer shit together Sheriff," he countered quietly. Rick chuckled in response, but Daryl saw him sweep the tidy streets with an assessing gaze. Daryl knew Rick wanted to see the good in this place when they first got here; he had to see it, for Carl, Lori, and the new baby. But after what had gone down with the Governor, he knew that Rick was losing faith that he'd made the right call by bringing them all here. While Daryl trusted Rick implicitly - he'd had to, to get them through the winter - he was about ten miles ahead of him on the way to being considered fully paranoid. Hell, at all times Daryl was about two minutes away from grabbing his go bag, his brother, and Beth and getting their asses outta dodge.

He chewed on his thumbnail and cut his eyes over to Rick. "Saw Andrea. She had somethin' interestin' to say about the shit tha' went down."

Rick raised an eyebrow in question. Daryl knew what Rick was asking without his having to speak; Somethin' to discuss here? Or you wanna talk somewhere else?

Daryl tipped his chin up, indicating the direction his apartment building was in, and began walking.

A comfortable quiet remained between the two men until they reached the privacy of the small apartment. Daryl looked around the space, taking in the little details that he was sure the deputy's eye wouldn't miss.

Since the other night, Daryl had continued to sleep in the bedroom with Beth. He had tried to sleep on the couch, but every time he closed his eyes he would hear his father's laugh echoing around his skull. He'd cackle that flemmy, hacking laugh that played as the soundtrack to all of his worst childhood memories, calling Daryl a pussy as he sliced open his back. This inevitably would lead to Daryl creeping down the hallway to check on Beth, to make sure his poisonous memories hadn't touched her again after he'd tossed her and pinned her to the floor. He knew - HE KNEW - she was fine. But goddamn it he couldn't stop himself from looking in on her.

She tended to stick to one side of the bed, but she always had one arm reaching out to lay across the space beside her. Like she was waiting for someone. For him, maybe? He'd go and lay down in the bed, making sure to stay tucked to the furthest edge, just far enough away that only her finger tips would brush against him. But that contact seemed to be enough to chase away the demons - worked like a fuckin charm, and let him sleep peacefully.

Daryl generally got up before the sun rose, so he could sneak out before Beth had the chance to confront him about...shit, she could take her fuckin pick. The fucking sharing a bed without askin' her? The beatings she'd gotten? The kiss? His fucking FEELINGS? No thank you.

Daryl had been content to live in complete denial about anything and everything that was happening between him and Beth, but now that Rick was here and taking in the lack of bedding in the living room, he was sure it was going to come back and bite him in the ass.

"How's Beth?" Rick asked, his eyes sweeping over the apartment's common areas and back to Daryl, who was hovering by the door. Right on time, Daryl thought. Rick continued, "Ain't really seen her much since the other day. Her back getting better?"

Daryl brought his thumbnail up to his mouth and nodded. "She's fine," he mumbled around his fingers. "No infection, that I could see."

Rick raised an eyebrow and smirked at him.

"Shaddup," Daryl snapped. "Jesus man. I checked her fuckin back! Git yer mind outta the gutter. And they call me the savage," he muttered.

Rick coughed out a laugh and continued to smile. "I didn' say a thing, man. I'm glad she's doin' well. Lori and I were worryin' after her, but Herschel assured us that she was doin' fine so we didn' want to push."

Daryl could feel his hackles rise at Rick's teasing, but he knew punching the other man out wouldn't solve shit right now. Plus Beth would be pissed if he broke their coffee table... He coughed and shut down that train of thought right there and then. When had he become such a goddamn pussy whipped bastard? And he wasn't even getting any! Jesus fucking Christ, now he was thinking about Beth's pu...

He cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes at Rick. "She's doin' ok. Real quiet though."

Rick nodded like he wasn't surprised by this information. Which was fucking great, because Daryl was starting to worry about her. Whenever he caught sight of her out in public, she was keeping her eyes locked on the ground, her feet firmly planted next-to or behind a member of their group. If she made him dinner, she'd spare him a small smile but wouldn't give him more than a one-word answer to any of the desperately brief questions he managed to grunt at her. After she finished eating she'd put her dishes in the sink for him to wash (she cooked, so why shouldn't he clean up? He wasn't a fucking animal), and then go down the hall to the bedroom and close the door behind her. He wouldn't see her again until he snuck his creeper ass in to sleep next to her hours later.

"People can shut down after they go through something traumatic," Rick spoke softly, casting a pointed look at Daryl.

Daryl wanted to roll his eyes or, you know, slap Rick upside the head, just as a reminder that his own coping strategies were not the current topic of discussion, but he managed to reign in those impulses. He must be growing up.

Rick continued on, "Remember when her mama got put down? She didn' talk to no one for days."

Yes, and Daryl fucking remembered what came next. He took one big mental step away from the possibility of that happening again. Unfortunately it seemed it now fell on his shoulders to be the one to make sure Beth didn't get to such a bad place again. Fucking. Great. There goes his blissful denial.

"I'll take care of it," Daryl murmured in response. Last thing he needed was Lori and the rest of the mother hens in his group knocking on his door to find out how Beth was faring.

Rick gave him a grateful smile, but let one side of his mouth curl up in a teasing smirk as he tossed out the quiet words, "I'm sure you will."

"You can mosey on your way Sheriff," Daryl motioned to the door behind him. "I'd be ok ifn' the door hit yer skinny ass on the way out."

Rick chuckled and held his hands up in supplication. "Go on now, what'd you have to tell me?"

Daryl relayed the conversation he'd had with Andrea, along with her pointed question about Phillip's targeting of their group. When he finished, Rick's concern was openly apparent and it did nothing to give him any type of relief.

"What do you think?" Rick asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

Daryl shrugged. "Dunno, man. I ain' the one with a fuckin' pregnant wife. You need this place moren' I do."

Rick mumbled something that Daryl initially missed before letting out a loud sigh. "Let me go an' talk to Lori. I need to see what she thinks before we make any type of decisions."

This struck Daryl as fair, and he nodded to Rick as he made his way to leave. Rick clapped him on the shoulder and stepped out into the hall. He called out over his shoulder to Daryl, "Send Beth our love."

As Daryl shut the door behind his friend, Rick's missed words from earlier suddenly hit him. He turned, allowing his weight to rest on the wall and letting his head fall back against the door, and closed his eyes tight. He'd mentioned Lori's pregnancy, hoping that Rick would pick up the mantle of decision-maker once again, being that he had the most to lose if they fled Woodbury. Rick was the one with the pregnant wife. Him alone. Daryl had stressed that point to him.

I ain' the one with a fuckin' pregnant wife.

But if Daryl didn't know any better, he'd swear that Rick had answered back with, "Not yet."