-Exeunt: March-

Spring meant warmer weather, blooming flowers, and an abundance of sunshine. It also meant a shift in focus of priorities. Beth was sad to see the decline in tender moments between herself and Daryl, as being out in the open made survival the main priority. Which she understood, but at the same time…

Beth sat with her back resting against a tree trunk, eating a piece of the rabbit Daryl had shot the night before. While she ate, she studied Daryl and the way he moved as he hung up the sound traps around their camp. He had taken his vest off, and his back muscles showed through the threadbare plaid shirt he wore.

She chewed slowly, mentally cataloguing the way his shoulders moved. Beth was so focused on her inspection that she didn't realize he was talking to her.

"Beth," the forceful tone of her name broke her of her thoughts.

"Huh?" she asked, lifting her eyes to Daryl's. He was smirking at her, making a blush spread in her cheeks when she realized she had been caught. "What?"

Her second question was much more irritated than the first, making Daryl chuckle.

"Nothin'." He didn't pause in his work, stringing up the noise traps all around the trees that encompassed their camp. Once he was finished, though, he made his way back to her, stepping over the loose pile of sticks and bark that would make their fire tonight. Daryl crouched in front of her, so close that her view was made up entirely of him.

She was still wearing that petulant expression, with her eyebrows drawn together and her pouted lips. There was a streak of dirt across her cheek, and her hair was starting to fall out of the braids she put them into just a handful of days ago. Still smirking, Daryl reached forward, placing his palms on her knees and letting them trail upward over her thighs.

"I asked if you wanted to get the fire goin'," he told her. She had her gaze level with his, one of her eyebrows arching upward as he spoke. "Seems to me you're a little too distracted, though."

"There's nothing to be distracted by out here," she countered. "We've been in this forest for days. Everything looks the same."

They were following the path Daryl had marked on the map, one that he hoped would lead them to this Terminus place Beth was so fixated on without running the risk of encountering other, larger groups.

"Alright," he conceded to her, but the smirk didn't leave his face. Where Beth had been enticed by him earlier, she now felt a growing annoyance at his teasing…until he moved forward even more, catching her mouth with his. Now that enticement was back, and Beth couldn't help but twist her fingers into his over-long hair, bringing herself up to her knees to bring herself closer to him.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her steady. But, as always, he pulled away too soon. The pout on her face made Daryl chuckle again. There was a fire that needed built, and if Beth wasn't going to do it, he would. She watched, arms crossed over her chest, as the same mouth that had just been working against hers now blew on a tiny flame to bring it to life. Between Daryl's hands—which had just been clinging to her—the fire crackled and grew until it was large enough to keep them warm.

Soon the flames had engulfed all the twigs and bark she had spent her afternoon collecting. They never stayed in a camp for longer than a night, so there was no need for a long-lived fire. Their days had quickly found a new routine. Beth knew Daryl would give her first watch, which was from sundown to what they guessed was around midnight; they marked it with the appearance of the Big Dipper overhead.

She hated the darkest parts of the night, and he knew that, which is why he always took second watch. They were in for another night under the stars, taking turns sleeping close to the fire while the other person got both the gun and the crossbow. That crossbow, which Daryl still had to load for her because she still struggled to pull the arrow into position.

Beth couldn't help her eye roll as she pulled her gun from her waistband and waited for Daryl to pass over the loaded crossbow. She settled back against her tree, knowing that there were many hours of quiet darkness ahead of her. They had been lucky since leaving the house; after clearing the area for their camps, they hadn't encountered any additional walkers through the nights.

"Hey," Daryl stooped again, to pass her the crossbow. When he did, he reached a hand out, cupping her cheek. His palm was rough with long-worn calluses, but she didn't mind. "Maybe we'll find a house tomorrow, if we're lucky. Or a shed. Somethin'. I know this sleeping outside thing ain't your favorite."

She turned her head, placing a kiss on his palm when she did. "Maybe."

Beth tried to smile for him. She combed her fingers through his hair until he fell into his usual light sleep. Only when his breathing evened out did she settle back and begin her watch.

Daryl had made sure that their path ran alongside the creek. Not even a full week into their journey, and Beth had insisted that they venture over, not for water, but to rinse off.

"Infection can kill someone just as quickly as a walker can."

"Where'd you learn that? Doctor school?" Daryl was on the creek bank, his back turned to her, keeping watch. Behind him, he knew that she had likely stripped down to her underwear for this creek bath. Beth took bathing seriously, but Daryl himself had advised her not to bathe in her clothing. They had only brought a handful of clothing items to rotate through, and though it was spring, it was early yet. He didn't want her in wet clothing while the weather was so iffy.

"Be a brat all you want, but you'll be thanking me when a tiny cut doesn't turn into blood poisoning before we get to Terminus."

Indeed, behind him, Beth was only in her bra and panties. She peeked over her shoulder again, making sure Daryl was true to his word about not turning around. When she was sure he would keep his back to her, she chanced dipping her toes into the cold water.

The creek was crystal clear, letting her know there was nothing but small fish hiding beneath its surface. It was too early in the spring for the sun to have warmed the creek any, and it was bitterly frigid. Still, Beth made herself submerge herself up to her calves in the water. This had been her idea, and she had come too far to back out now.

Taking a deep breath to brace herself, Beth plunged head on into the water before she could think better of it. The icy temperature stung against her skin, but if it meant she would be clean, she didn't mind so much. Sitting in that cold creek, she quickly scrubbed herself with her hands and rinsed through her hair.

Teeth chattering, Beth rushed from the creek, immediately wrapping herself in their shared towel. As quickly as she could, she swapped out her wet underwear for a dry set and pulled on her clothing.

"I hated th-that," she told Daryl. Except for her hair, she was dry now, but still shivering. "Your t-t-turn."

"Told you it was gonna suck." She tried to hand Daryl the towel, but he smirked and reached for her instead. "Lemme warm you up a little."

Beth didn't argue as he pulled her into his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder, letting herself be folded into his arms. He was much warmer than her; it only took a minute or two for the shivering to decrease. Rubbing his hands over her arms and back had her steady and warm in no time.

"How's your teeth?" He asked, and she picked her head up to smile at him.

"Better."

When Daryl stripped down, she took his shirt he had been wearing, layering it over her own. It was still warm from his body heat, and though it smelled of earth and fire smoke and sweat, she didn't mind. She would wash their clothes in the creek soon enough, once Daryl was done with his bath.

Again, as she had done a few nights before, Beth studied his back. Without his shirt, it was made clear that scars crisscrossed the skin there. A tattoo graced on shoulder, depicting winged beings in some kind of battle. She was too far away to make out if the fight was between angels, demons, or both.

Beth wasn't paying much attention to the scars or the tattoo, though. Pulling Daryl's shirt closer around herself, she studied the surety and fluidity with which Daryl moved. She knew how cold the water was herself, yet Daryl stepped into the creek as if it were warm and welcoming. Not for the first time, she marveled at how at peace Daryl behaved in the middle of the wilderness.

"I thought we had a 'no staring' rule going on here, Beth." She felt the blush begin to burn in her cheeks. "I didn't leave the crossbow over there for you to let it take a nap."

Damn him and his hunter's instincts.

Spring meant animals. For the most part, this was a great thing. Daryl was able to keep them steadily supplied with meat, so that they hadn't had to dip too heavily into their reserve of jerky he had made over the winter. Beth soon learned that the animals were useful in detecting walkers, too.

Out here in the woods, it was all too easy to notice how the animals fell silent when there were walkers in the area. When the birdsong stopped, Beth knew she needed to be on high alert. Daryl had taught her to pay attention to these things, and she did so always, especially when she was alone.

Daryl had gone to hunt, and there was a dandelion patch close to their temporary camp. Bored with sitting around, Beth had decided to pick these dandelions.

"We need to eat more than meat," she grumbled to herself, using the only bowl they had brought to collect the leaves. "Even if it's just dandelions."

The sun was warm on her back while she worked. It felt so good, after the cold of the winter, to feel herself warming back to life along with the Earth. Beth made sure to listen for the birds, as well as bigger threats—freshly woken bears, walkers, other humans. But what Beth didn't realize she should have been looking out for was a little green snake weaving its way through the grass.

"Ow!" She yelled without meaning to, drawing her hand back when the snake had lunged and stuck her. Beth cradled her hand against her chest, searching for the culprit and coming up empty handed.

"Dammit, Beth!" Her head swiveled at the sound of Daryl's voice, watching him run toward her. He crouched down beside her, taking her bitten hand in his. Before she could say anything, Daryl had lifted her palm to his mouth, placing his lips over the bite.

He's trying to get any venom out, she realized.

Daryl continued this for a few seconds, until the bleeding in her hand had stemmed.

"Does it hurt?" He asked, face a mixture of worry and solemnity. "Anywhere besides the bite? Is it hurting or burning?"

"No," she promised, shaking her head. "Only the bite hurts."

Daryl turned her little hand over in hers, examining it. "We'll watch it, for swelling. I reckon it was just a field snake that got spooked. What're you doin' out here, anyway?"

Taking her other hand, Daryl pulled her to her feet. She nodded her head toward the little bowl, full of dandelion greens. "We gotta supplement our carnivore diet sometimes if we want to stay healthy out here."

He chuckled, stooping to pick up the bowl. Then he wrapped an arm around her waist, leading her back to their camp.

That night, running her finger over the clean bandage Daryl had wrapped around her hand, Beth watched him cook the rabbit he had caught. The firelight flickered over his features, smoke curling around his face. She glanced down at her bandaged hand.

He was really going to drink venom just to help me, she thought.

There was a swelling in her chest that she didn't quite understand. Beth pushed herself to her feet, walking closer to the fire.

"Hey," Daryl greeted her, eyes flicking up to meet hers. "What's up?"

"Nothing," she murmured, taking a seat beside him and laying her head on his shoulder. "I just wanted to sit with you."

"Beth, either you're gonna have to stitch it up for me, or I'm gonna heat up a knife and cauterize it."

Her hands were slick and hot from his blood, using one of her shirts to staunch the blood flow from the cut in his thigh. It felt like a flooding, broken dam beneath her palms, soaking through the shirt.

Being on the road had presented new levels of challenges. Such as spring rains making the ground muddy and insubstantial. Daryl had ventured into the little canyon ahead of her, to test the embankment for structural integrity, only to go sliding, cutting his leg on a jagged rock instead.

"I can't do it out here!" Beth argued. The stream was still close by; she could get water and boil it to clean the wound. But Daryl's jeans were filthy, and they had no other options than the muddy ground for her to work on. What if he caught infection? What it if it turned to blood poisoning?

He reached out to her, grimacing from the movement of his body. Daryl's hand cradled the side of her face, making her look him in the eye. "We ain't got any other choices."

As much as she hated it, she knew he was right. Beth pulled the peroxide from her backpack. Knowing the pain killers they had on hand would take too long to have any kind of effect before she started stitching, she opted to give Daryl a swig of the whiskey they still carried instead.

Her hands shook as she threaded the needle with fishing wire—the only thing they had. It would make stitches, sure, but it wouldn't be pretty.

"You gotta work fast," Daryl reminded her. "Before we end up with visitors."

Beth very nearly closed her eyes when she first pierced Daryl's skin with the needle. He groaned, body going rigid, but didn't cry out. Each pass and tug of the needle broke her heart, but watching how easily his skin pulled back together despite their rudimentary supplies bolstered her at the same time.

"Almost done," she promised, trying to be quick and gentle at once. This had been her father's work, not hers. When she reached the end of the cut, Beth tied off the wire, biting through it with her teeth. "There!"

She didn't take any time to admire her handiwork. Instead, she looked immediately at Daryl, taking in his pale, clammy face. His teeth were rattling from the pain, and yet his eyes were shining. Was that pride she caught in his expression, before she cupped her face again to kiss her?

Twenty more miles. They could clear that in a handful of days. Travelling every day they could—even with Daryl's leg stitches, because he had insisted—had made them good time. It was only now the end of May, according to her calendar. Even with weather and injuries and all other obstacles accounted for, they had made great time.

Twenty more miles until Terminus.

Twenty more miles until Ma—

No. She wouldn't let herself think of that. Those kinds of thoughts were dangerous, because they brought hope with them.

"Hey," Daryl whispered, moving into her beam of moonlight with her. They didn't really have to whisper, not in here—in a house! "Lookin' at that map again?"

"We're so close." She whispered back to him, smiling all the while. He watched her finger trace the remainder of the path he had mapped out. "Twenty miles."

Her voice was reverent, like she was saying a prayer. Carefully, gently, Daryl worked her fingers lose, taking the map and setting it aside. Then he pulled her to him, enveloping her in his arms. She kissed him slowly, carefully moving into his lap, wary of his stitches as she straddled his thighs.

Daryl slowly ran his hands up her own, feeling her shiver under his touch. Over her hips, back arching as he continued his trail upward. His hand slipped under her shirt, burning against her bare skin. The little gasp that escaped her lips as Daryl's hands traced lazy patterns across her back did not go unnoticed.

"Just take it off," Beth whispered against his mouth, catching him by surprise.

"What?"

"You heard me. Take my shirt off, Daryl." He pulled away from her ever so slightly, tipping his head back to meet her eye. She had the higher ground here, positioned in his lap. But that didn't mean he couldn't win some of that ground back. Daryl did what she asked, but he did so slowly, letting his hands run lackadaisically along her waist to pull Beth's shirt over her head.

Now she was largely exposed to him, at least from the waist up, save for her bra. Her skin was pale in the moonlight, smooth and soft where his hands had come to rest along her hips. He moved one of his hands, positioning it just above the waist of her jeans, before travelling upward, over her chest, her neck, up to her face to run his thumb along her lower lip.

"Beth," he whispered into the dark, finding his voice had gone thick and husky.

"We're uneven here." Quick, nimble fingers worked over the buttons of his plaid shirt. There was no hesitation from either of them as she relieved him of his shirt. Not once did they break eye contact with each other, staring the other down as Daryl took a turn and unhooked Beth's bra.

Splaying his hand between her shoulder blades, Daryl drew Beth closer. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his mouth working over her skin. Of its own accord, Beth was fairly certain, her hands wound themselves into his hair, knotting her fingers into the strands.

"Daryl," her voice was something between a whisper and a gasp.

"Hmm?" His own voice was muffled against her skin.

"I want you to make love to me."

This gave him pause, lifting his head from her chest. She looked down at him, eyes dark—smoldering, serious. Her request was not a frivolous one. There was no nervousness, no second-guessing in her gaze.

Not another word was exchanged between the two. Instead, Daryl shifted them until Beth lay beneath her. Their remaining clothing was quickly shed. Nothing but air separated them, until she pulled him down to kiss him and he pressed forward between her thighs.

He moved within her languidly, not in any hurry at all.

Beth was unsure how this was both satiating and starving a need she hadn't realized she had until this moment. Her leg hooked around his hip, pulling him deeper within her. When she first cried out, Daryl chuckled, muffling the sound with his palm and pausing in his efforts.

"Would this really be such a bad way to go?" Beth asked, her lips moving beneath his hand.

"I guess not," Daryl admitted. He pulled her close again.

To her credit, Beth did attempt to stifle her subsequent moans against Daryl's shoulder.

A/N: Hello, friends.

I couldn't stay away. I love these two far too much.

So, while brainstorming and writing the next portion of the story, I have been listening to a lot of The Oh Hellos. I wanted to continue the musical title theme of this story, so the spring section will be called 'Exeunt', named after a song by the same name by The Oh Hellos. Give those guys a listen.

'Exeunt' is apparently a theater term that basically means to exit the stage. I thought that was fitting for this section of the story, while Daryl and Beth are constantly on the move.

Also I'm really living for bossy Beth, that is all.