-Exeunt: May-

April showers bring May flowers.

The old saying ran through Beth's head as she looked out over the meadow full to bursting with wildflowers. Their sweet scent wafted to her over the sun-warmed breeze. One scent stood out to her: honeysuckle. It brought with it the memories of her older brother showing her how to pull the stamen from the blooms, drawing out the sweet nectar inside.

She walked through lackadaisically fluttering butterflies and dragonflies, crossing the meadow to the hollowed-out tree trunk where the honeysuckle bush had taken up residency. When she was little, Beth always thought the nectar tasted like sunshine on her tongue. The same thought occurred to her now as she took a sip, letting her eyes drift shut.

Beth found herself warmed through by the sunset above and the syrup-sweet nectar filling her mouth. Spring had always been her favorite season, and this meadow did the season justice in all its glory.

In the meadow, treating herself to honeysuckle and sheep sorrel, is where Daryl found her. They were supposed to be scouting a place to sleep for the night, but obviously she had become sidetracked. Beth gave him a bright smile before wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. He could taste the blooms on her mouth.

"You're in a good mood," he murmured against her lips. Daryl was relieved he could say such a thing; she had been in such a dark mindset for two weeks after she killed that stranger in the woods. He supposed she must have come to terms with it.

"I'll be in an even better mood if you tell me we get to sleep inside tonight."

They hadn't had much luck since the convenience store, but Daryl had a surprise for her.

"I mean, it's more or less inside." Her fair eyebrows shot up, intrigue clear on her face. He took her hand, leading her back along the path he had just taken to the meadow. Just a few yards away, he stopped underneath a tall, wide-trunked tree. At first, Beth didn't notice the rope ladder until Daryl swung it toward her.

"A treehouse?" Tipping her head back, she saw the wooden structure above them. There was no glass in the windows, but sun-faded checkered curtains hung inside the frames.

"We can pull the ladder up once we're up there. Won't even have to worry about anyone sneakin' up on us in the night. I already checked it out up there."

Underneath the tree, Daryl build a low fire to cook the quail he had hunted earlier in the day. They ate while the sunset, making sure to completely smother the fire before Daryl prompted Beth to climb the rope ladder.

There was a little balcony of sorts outside the treehouse, making it easier to open the wooden door. Inside, scattered across the floor were some comic books. Beth shook her head. Of course Daryl didn't think to tidy up, she thought to herself.

She stacked up the comic books next to a tall wooden chest. The inside of the treehouse was bigger than she would have thought. Out of curiosity, Beth opened the chest to find sleeping bags and pillows inside. Whoever this place used to belong to obviously used to spend the night in the treehouse, just like they intended to.

While Daryl pulled up the ladder, coiling it neatly and tucking it into the railing on the balcony, Beth shook out the sleeping bags to make them a bed for the night. "We got lucky here."

The nights still carried a chill with them, and she was glad for these sleeping bags. And the roof over their heads, even if the windows were open to the world. Underneath the sleeping bags, there had been a battery-powered space heater, though she didn't think it was cold enough for that.

"Won't even have to take shifts," Daryl agreed behind her.

Beth always knew when Daryl considered them to be completely safe. Only when they were indoors was he free with his affection, as he was now, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. She leaned into his touch, threading her fingers through his for a moment before shifting within his embrace. Tipping her head back, she managed to kiss him again.

There had not been an opportunity since the first time for Beth to enjoy him in this way. That was life on the road, she supposed. Now, she made no efforts to stop Daryl from pulling away from her long enough to slip her sweater over her head.

He lifted her, setting her atop the chest, and Beth wrapped her legs around him. His hands traveled underneath her tank top, trailing upward over her stomach and breasts until that layer, too, was removed. Her bra followed not long after, the cool air and Daryl's hands on her skin making goosebumps raise along her skin.

"Daryl…" she murmured his name, surprised at how thick her voice sounded as his mouth marked a path along her jaw and down her neck, drifting ever lower.

Had she not known herself, Beth never would have guessed Daryl Dixon would be such a tender lover. He paused only long enough for Beth to help him do away with his own shirt before gripping her under her thighs to carry to the sleeping bags she had just prepared. Soon enough, the last layers between them were gone.

Languid movements, lips brushing against skin. Fingers running through hair; fingers intertwined. Beth framed his face with her hands, drawing him close enough to kiss him again. Even as her leg wrapped itself around his hip, she was suddenly overwhelmed by the certainty that she would never have her fill of Daryl Dixon.

"Fuck, Beth," he murmured into her hair, the shiver that wracked through his body echoing in her own. Daryl wrapped an arm around her waist, effortlessly pulling her up into his lap, earning a pleasured gasp from Beth in the process. Somehow, sitting straddled with him inside her only made her believe in her earlier thought more.

She gripped his shoulders tightly as he dipped his head to kiss along her neck. The gentle rocking of their hips would slowly drive her crazy in her current desire, she was sure. A hand found his chin, pulling his face back up, locking her mouth on his. She kissed him fervently, fueling her need into it. He must have caught on, a hand flaying along the small of her back to bring her impossibly closer as their tempo increased.

Unlike the last time when Daryl chided Beth to be quiet, all thoughts of stealth were gone from his mind when her thighs tightened around him. Her gasping breaths merely fueled his fire, their bodies moving in tandem. It wasn't until she cried out at the climax of it all that it occurred to him how much noise making had likely been going on.

As his heartbeat hit its fever pitch and began to slow, he gripped her still, smoothing her sweat-damp hair from her face. she was glowing in the thin moonlight streaming in from the window. They were in a tree, yards off the ground, he reminded himself. So what if Beth had cried out at their lovemaking?

"I'm sorry," she whispered now, breaths still coming in short pants. He ran a finger across her mouth, her lips slack under his touch.

"Don't be."

He laid her back down, only then withdrawing himself from her. She curled herself into his arms, eyelids already heavy as sleep came to claim her. He was drowsy himself, his body feeling hazy and thick in the aftermath. His movements were slow as he wrapped himself around her.

She still smelled of clean, spring sunshine and wildflowers from her afternoon in the meadow. Daryl inhaled the scent clinging to her hair, thinking about the taste of the honeysuckle nectar on her mouth as he drifted to sleep.

Beth woke first, her slumber-hazy mind making her body feel heavy. As she surfaced from her sleep, she realized the sun was just now rising, with birds welcoming the dawn with their songs. Daryl's arm was warm and solid around her waist, her head pillowed by his shoulder. She stretched herself within his embrace before pulling herself closer to him.

Her reward was an incomprehensible mumble from Daryl as he turned toward her in his sleep. Beth giggled despite herself, settling into his arms. She liked the way her bare body felt against his, their blankets warding off the early-morning chill that came through the open windows.

If only we could stay here forever, Beth mused to herself, drawing lazy circles along Daryl's bicep as he slept. The touch began to rouse him, a hand running itself through her hair. His lips found her forehead a second later, pressing a kiss along her hairline.

"S'morning?" He asked, voice thick and words slurred. Is it morning?

"Yeah. Unfortunately."

Daryl chuckled at that, letting his hand trail down her bare back. "We have to get up, then."

"Mmmm." Beth hummed, trying to ignore the shiver that ran through her at his touch. She couldn't quite see his face, but she was sure he wore a gloating smirk. "Not yet."

He didn't argue with her. Instead, he just held her a while longer, slowly running his fingers up and down her back. Across the room were their clothes; Beth knew that Daryl had the map in the pocket of his jeans. The new path to Terminus was already marked out—they had made great headway getting pack on track, travelling every day from sunup to sundown.

Tipping her head back to kiss him, Beth considered how much time she could bargain from Daryl. Only now did she realize how sore her feet and legs were from their constant walking. She liked the way the rising sun was warming her back, and the feel of Daryl's skin on hers.

Daryl would be lying if he didn't admit that he was equally hesitant to leave their makeshift bed. He watched the dust motes swirl in the morning sunlight, still running his fingers up and down Beth's back. The motion was just as soothing for him, feeling the rise and fall of her breath.

But…he also knew how important it was to Beth that they reach Terminus. The idea had even been warming to him over the past few days, if for no other reason than he, too, wanted answers. Perhaps Terminus would finally have some for them. Before he could talk himself out of it, he shifted beneath her, ignoring the indignant pout that overtook Beth's features. He rummaged through their clothes, sorting his own from hers before tossing the fabric in her direction.

"We're not gonna get anywhere by bein' lazy." There was no logical arguing with his logic, but that didn't stop Beth from defiantly rolling herself into the warm blankets he left behind and stretching before pulling herself from bed to get dressed.

Too soon, Beth found herself following Daryl down that rope ladder. She was coming to have a real appreciation for all the shelters they had used along the way. Being without a permanent home, in such a hostile world, was opening her eyes to how blessed those structures were. Before following in Daryl's footsteps, as she was used to now after so many miles together, Beth snuck one more glance at the treehouse.

Thank you, she thought toward it, making sure the ladder was straightened out and waiting for the next survivors who might happen upon it.

It was the stupid walker's fault.

The thing had been bigger than she was, probably twice her size. She would only admit that it had been her fault that she wasn't paying enough attention…but it had been dark. Daryl had taken the walker out when she fell, and she was more grateful for that than usual, considering the way her wrist had faltered when she tried to catch herself.

Unsubstantial mud cushioned most of her body when she hit the ground, but not her wrist. That twisted under her weight, an internal crunch to her bones and muscles making her heart skip a beat at the jolt of pain.

Now she sat in the hollow between a cluster of trees, the night thick around them. Daryl held her hand in his, gently pressing against it this way and that to see what range of motion she was left with. To her credit, Beth was doing her best not to cry at the sting with every move he put her wrist through. It was too dark to truly assess the swelling, but just running his fingers over her arm, Daryl knew her joint was puffy and swollen.

Even without any light to see her by, Daryl guessed that there would be tears streaming down her face. Sure enough, her cheek was wet when he cupped her face. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, hoping it would offer some reassurance.

"You'll be okay." A whispered promise. There were still plenty of hours left in the night, and he was hesitant to move her from their hiding spot. Five walkers lay truly dead around them; that, surely, would be enough to cover their smell. He pulled her close to him, fitting her little body against his to wait out the night.

Beth pulled her injured hand in next to her chest, cradling it against movement. Still, with her every breath the dulling throb ran through her wrist and reminded her of her own stupidity. She laid her head back to rest on Daryl's shoulder, trying to ignore the pain.

It made for a long night. They didn't dare speak or sleep with so little protection. Not to mention the pain in Beth's arm. Sleep wasn't in the cards for her even if she had wanted it.

Once there was adequate morning light to work with, Daryl carefully fashioned a crude splint for her wrist. He anchored it with some sturdy twigs on either side, securing it all together with ripped fabric from one of their spare shirts. "I don't think it's broken."

She had to agree. There was some swelling, yes, but no bruising. It hurt when Daryl manipulated the joint, but not so terribly that she would say it was broken. Still, she found herself holding her wrist close to herself as they persevered forward. The throbbing in her wrist was soon echoed in her temples, though Beth was sure it was mostly due to the sleepless night.

Of course, it had to be her right wrist, and she had to be right-handed. Why wasn't she more careful? The plan had been to travel another mile, just to make it an even five for the day. Instead she had to make such a stupid mistake and end up hurt in the process. Now she was practically useless without her dominant hand, just following Daryl around, all because—

"Hey, hear that?" He always used clipped phrases when they were out in the open, and now it pulled her out of her self-disparaging thoughts.

Now that he had brought her attention too it, she realized that a low hum had filled the air around them. In front of her, Daryl cocked his head to the side, judging where the sound was originating from. His eyes shifted to the left, narrowing slightly.

"Let's go see."

The way his eyes narrowed further let Beth know exactly how he felt about the idea, but she merely turned on her heel toward the sound. Something needed to take her mind off what an idiot she had been the night before. She led the way, moving quietly through the trees, the buzzing hum becoming louder with every step she took.

Really, they could have had their answer still several yards back if they had been paying more attention. More or less living outside since the season had turned made them largely desensitized to the presence of wildlife and insects. Especially the insects, as they were becoming more ever-present with the warmer weather. The frequency with which they were swatting bees away from them should have been an indicator.

A huge, hollowed out tree—probably a casualty from some long-forgotten thunderstorm—completely overrun with bees. The hive was massive, likely taking up the entirety of the tree. Even if they each stood on either side of the tree, Daryl doubted that they would be able to fully wrap their arms around the trunk.

It was such an unusual sight that neither of them noticed the man approaching. Beth was thinking of the honey that was secreted away inside; Daryl was just amazed at the ingenuity of the bees.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Beth jumped, clutching her injured arm closer to her chest, as if that might offer her any protection. Daryl was quicker on the turn than she was, crossbow already poised in his hands. He had it aimed perfectly level with the chest of the woman the voice belonged to. An older woman, rather tall and slim, her hands raised before her and a quietly bemused smile playing at her lips.

"There's no need for that. I'm unarmed. Name's Tilly." Despite what seemed to be genuine reassurance to Beth, Daryl didn't drop his aim even a fraction of a centimeter. "How's that arm?"

Only then did Beth drop her arm back to her side, making a considerable effort not to let this stranger know how much it hurt. Weaknesses were fatal. "It's fine."

"Let me take a look at it for you. I was a nurse, back when jobs existed. House is back this way. We don't get many visitors, on account of the bees. They tend to scare off most wayward souls."

Beth cut her eyes toward Daryl, waiting for his cue. To her surprise, he tipped his head forward in the most subtle of nods. Beth kept pace alongside Daryl as they followed Tilly over the crest of a small hill. In the shallow valley beneath was a little house, framed with fencing that sectioned of a garden to the left and a small coop of chickens to the right. The sight of a maintained house, one with life inside, made Beth feel oddly queasy. Such views were no longer commonplace in her world.

Tilly opened the door—which was painted a bright yellow—to let them inside her house. As Beth stepped through the threshold, she felt Daryl's hand light upon the small of her back. Standing on the hill, Tilly had said we don't get many visitors. Daryl was expecting at least one more person to be inside the house, Beth was sure…not the three plump cats who came running to greet them.

Even among the shrill meows of the feline welcoming party, Daryl didn't relax. Tension seemed to roll off him in waves. Or, at least, his body heat certainly did, echoing what he was almost certainly feeling.

"Come this way," Tilly beckoned over her shoulder, leading them through an open doorway to another room. "I keep the medical supplies in the dining room."

The dining room was eggshell blue, with a white china cabinet along one wall. Only, the china cabinet didn't hold dishware. Instead, it was packed to near overflowing with various first aid equipment. Rummaging through the cabinet, Tilly stood with her back to them, talking all the while.

"Mind telling me how you hurt your arm? Might help me figure out what's going on with it. Y'all never did tell me your names."

"Um," Beth began, pausing to glare at Daryl when he stiffened further at Tilly's probing. "I fell on it, mostly. It's my wrist. There were some walkers, and the ground was muddy and slick from the rain. Oh, and my name's Beth, and that's Daryl."

"Walkers, huh? That's a new one." Tilly turned back to them, a proper medical splint and a roll of cloth bandages in her hand. Fingers curling, she used her free hand to beckon Beth forward.

"What do you call them?"

Her touch was sure and quick, dismantling all the work Daryl had done with the makeshift cast he had made. "Not bad. It would've got the job done, but it sure as hell wouldn't be comfortable. I don't see a reason to give the dead a special name. More or less their world now, isn't it? That beehive might keep people away, but it sure as hell is a beacon for the rest of them."

Hot tears had rolled down Beth's cheeks when Daryl had manipulated her swollen, battered joint, but she refused to show the same to Tilly. She blinked her eyes quickly bidding the tears not to fall and betray her. Tutting under her tongue, Tilly set aside the splint to quickly and expertly wrap Beth's wrist in the bandages.

"A bad sprain, but I don't feel any broken bones. You're lucky. Nurse's advice would be to let it rest a few days at least…but feel free to ignore me."

Tilly's hazel eyes flicked to Daryl over Beth's shoulder as she spoke the last part. She quirked an eyebrow at him, though when she spoke her words were still directed at Beth. "Your man doesn't talk much, does he?"

Heat flooded to Beth's face and suddenly her head and her mouth were no loner in sync. While her mind raced, her mouth felt slow and sluggish, half-forming sounds of thoughts that were equally as flimsy. Slow and smug, a smile formed on Tilly's face at her floundering. Daryl's reaction was lost on Beth, though—she was far too embarrassed to peek over her shoulder to see.

Bemused smile still playing at her lips, Tilly fitted the splint around Beth's wrist. "Both of you are welcome to stay overnight. Like I said, ignore me if you want, but there's a storm brewing. You can feel it in the air."

It had been humid, sure, but not so heavy that Beth suspected it would rain anymore that day. But when she looked out a close-by window, there was an obvious darkening of the light outside. Only once Tilly left the room did Beth chance a look at Daryl.

Pink blush was still staining her cheeks as she met his eye. It nearly made a smile quirk across his lips. Almost. Instead, he searched her face, trying to see if her expression betrayed any discomfort. Over her wrist, this whole situation, anything. Unfortunately for him, he found a clear hopefulness in her soft blue eyes.

The sigh escaped him before he could stop it, but it only brought about a victorious smile from Beth. She had him, and she knew it. Daryl knew damn well he wasn't going to argue over this with her, even if he didn't like it.

"One night," he conceded, which only made her smile wider.

One night turned into two, against Daryl's better judgment. Alas, he had no control over the weather, and the storm Tilly foretold lasted through the first night and left behind considerable rains through the next day. Her cats—named Tallulah, Delilah, and Simon—were oddly unbothered by the lingering thunder. They lounged around the house with enviable ease.

Beth was equally at ease, or at the least overly tired after the previous night they had, if how soundly she slept was any indication. For Daryl, sleep was fleeting and shallow in the guest bed they shared. But Beth slept peacefully beside him, hugging her pillow to herself when he grew restless. He had studied her face in the flashes of lightning that illuminated the room. The smoothness of her brow, the slack to her jaw. She was taken by this Tilly, or perhaps this oasis of life the woman had built in the forest.

Daryl knew it must remind her of the Greene family farm, because it recalled his own memories as well. Especially as he watched her wash their clothes in a suds-filled metal bucket, lying them out on the grass out back to be dried by the sun.

During the day, Beth was all easy smiles, helping Tilly can an early harvest of green tomatoes collected from the makeshift greenhouse that stood outback. The two of them had braved the rain for that, returning considerably dampened with their bounty.

They talked all the while, and Daryl half-listened while he calculated the miles left until they would reach Terminus.

"…a prison, but we had the whole thing set up like a huge, communal house."

"A prison, huh? That's resourceful. Communities are the way to go if anyone ever gets it in their head to reclaim this world from the dead."

Rick's dream, for sure. Terminus was a community. Sanctuary for all. It was what Beth wanted. There was a sarcastic tone to Tilly's words, making Daryl think it wasn't something she believed in. Considering she lived in this house with three cats and a whole mess of chickens, communities didn't seem to be Tilly's thing.

They were hardly Daryl's, either, but according to his math, he and Beth were fifteen miles out from Terminus.

The number made his stomach tighten. Before they had run into the strangers outside the house with the graves, they had been twenty miles away. The winding path they had taken to avoid said strangers had knocked them farther off course than he had anticipated.

Still.

Fifteen miles was not so much. They could clear that in three days, if they were persistent and conditions held in their favor. He looked through the doorway to the kitchen, watching the concentration on Beth's face as she used her left hand to clumsily cut tomatoes into slices for Tilly.

Another night wouldn't hurt them.

Tilly revealed the fact that her house still had running water on the second night. Had she not told them, Daryl wouldn't have had a clue. Despite having a generator, the woman didn't use the electricity, depending instead on homemade candles.

"The bees keep me in good supply of wax," she had said with a nonchalant shrug. "It's pretty easy to live by candlelight. But sometimes you just can't beat a hot shower, especially if you've been doing some travelling."

No argument was raised from Beth on that end. She was all too happy to take the fluffy towels offered them. There was a bathroom connected to the guest bedroom Tilly had lent them. Daryl hadn't had a real shower since the prison, and even there, it was with collected rainwater that was lukewarm at best and frigid most often.

Terminus was still heavy on Daryl's mind when the patter of the shower stream started in the bathroom. He hadn't given it a second thought when Beth disappeared behind the door. That is, until her head popped back through the frame, startling him as a teasing smile spread across her lips.

"It's rude to waste water."

His eyebrows shot up, disappearing beneath his shaggy brown hair. She beckoned him with her good hand, and Daryl found himself responding in kind, pulling the bathroom door shut behind him. Swirling shower steam already filled the air around them. Daryl unwound the careful wrapping of Beth's bandages setting them aside on the edge of the sink. "I think I'll need more help than that."

A smirk formed despite himself, starting with freeing her hair from its messy braid. He helped her undress before taking care of his own clothing and joining her under the water.

"Who knew it would take one walker to put you outta commission." Hot, clean water fell over them, soaking into Beth's hair and making Daryl aware of all the knots and tension in his muscles as they soothed away. Even with Beth's head tipped back, he caught her eye roll.

"It only takes one to put anyone out of commission," she retorted. While she rinsed her hair, Daryl couldn't stop himself running a hand along the curve of her waist. Apparently, the water wasn't quite warm enough to stave off the goosebumps that broke across her skin at his touch.

"Yeah, you're right."

He washed her hair for her, lathering the shampoo into the strands, making sure to take his time. Beth would chide him if he didn't do a thorough job, he knew. But he didn't mind half so much as he might pretend. Even he had to admit that it was nice to be in a safe, warm place…never mind that he had spent the entire two days of their stay on edge.

If Tilly was going to kill them, she probably would have by now. No point in wasting resources that way, at least in Daryl's mind. Though he hadn't said any of this out loud, he was sure Beth agreed. She pressed herself to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder.

Warm, water-slick skin, the full length of her flush against him. His fingers tangled back into her hair as he held her to him, his other hand coming to rest on the small of her back.

"Of anyone I could've been with all this time," she whispered, voice muffled by his skin and the water falling around them. "I'm so glad it was you."

He should have let them stay.

Tilly's house in the little valley had been idyllic. Chickens clucking out front, purring cats lounging around the furniture. Golden misty mornings. They had left with jars of honey from Tilly as a parting gift, nestled inside Beth's backpack with the last of their winter reserves.

Tilly's house was safe.

It wasn't surrounded by a broken fence and walkers alike.

The structure wasn't visibly burned out, a skeleton corpse of what it was, obvious even as they stood yards and yards away.

Tilly's house didn't make Beth physically break down in a way she hadn't since witnessing her father's death.

When the Governor had taken Hershel's head off, Beth had been hysterical. Gripping her arm, forcing Beth to move forward and follow him through the fallen prison fence in the aftermath was a memory that would be forever ingrained in Daryl's mind. Not to mention the way her crying had petered out as they ran, until she was entirely dry-eyed when they fell down exhausted in the field. Amid that tall grass was the first time that Beth told Daryl she wasn't going to cry anymore.

Terminus was a wasteland, nothing like the 'sanctuary' they—Beth—had anticipated. She had to have been anticipating something grand. She had to have been anticipating seeing Maggie again.

She had to have been, because her reaction was immediate. Knees buckled, sending her toward the ground. Daryl barely caught her in time before she fell flat on her face. She was shaking within his hands, a desperate sob ripping itself from her throat.

"We can go back," he murmured to her, trying not to wince from how tightly she was gripping him. Her nails dug into his skin, as if she was trying to find some kind of purchase now that her world was once again upended.

"No." The word was mangled, because Beth forced it out from between her teeth. Tears tracking paths down her cheeks, Beth's expression was already turning dark. "We don't go back. Only forward."

Hershel's words.

Daryl had heard them before, but always in a comforting tone from the older man. Words meant to bolster his daughters' spirits as their group navigated this dangerous world around them.

Now Beth spit them out like a bad taste.

She squeezed Daryl's arm one more time, reassuring him or herself he wasn't sure, before untangling herself from his arms. Four steps ahead of him before she looked over her shoulder, beckoning him forward with her splinted hand.

"C'mon."

A/N: This is the longest chapter I've written for this fic, 5,466 words... wild to me. I gave myself a goal to progressively make each chapter longer than the last, and so far that has happened!

Of course, it's an easy thing to do when writing about one of your favorite ships ever.