A/N Thank you everyone. We left our couple with Daryl trying to comfort Beth, let's see what happens next :)

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Shit, what the hell is he doing, and what the hell is he saying?

He stuns her when he suddenly jerks his hand away, but then he always seems to get so awkward when there's any closeness, whether they're touching or just talking. She can't help wondering, is it just her? Or is it women in general?

Even though his words are pleasant, his voice and his tone have gone back to the familiar rough and cranky, "C'mon, eat your dinner cuz you're right, we ain't ever gonna get anythin' as good as your fried chicken again. C'mon."

Hmm, was that a compliment tucked inside a really grouchy attitude? "Thank you, Daryl."

"If ya wanna thank me eat your dinner. I don't want ya faintin' on me again."

She's not sure why, but that makes her smile, "You're never going to forget that, are you?"

"Probably not. I never had a woman just faint at the sight of me."

The tension just broke, he makes her laugh and himself smile, and then out of the blue she asks, "Were you married Daryl…before the fall?"

He seems a bit taken aback by her question but he recovers quickly, "No, I never even came close ta anythin' like that. Never have given it a thought." He gets a little brave and asks her, "How 'bout you? You got a husband or a boyfriend waitin' for ya at Daddy's farm?" His heart's thumping as he awaits her answer, and he's not quite sure why.

She can see he's nervous and shy about asking, but she smiles at him and says, "No, no one. Well wait, I take that back. There was a boy in high school, Jimmy, he lives two farms over and we dated for about two months our sophomore year of high school."

Of course she's dated guys besides Jimmy in her life, but he specifically asked about the farm and she really doesn't want to tell him about her exes. Besides, she doubts he wants details.

The mood at the table has shifted, both are quiet as they finish their meal and go over the brief conversation in their minds.

As they're cleaning up after dinner, Daryl announces, "As soon as we're done here? That's right, it's on Greene, you n me are playin' poker,"

"Sounds good, I can't wait to beat you Mister Dixon."

"Yeah? You just keep up that smack talkin' girl we'll see if it helps."

They play right there at the kitchen table, and there's plenty of fake drama and the betting of thousands of dollars they borrowed from a Monopoly game in the living room. Beth learns to play five card stud and Texas hold em, but eventually another long day and a big meal have them both ready for a night's sleep.

Daryl wants to tell her he's not sleeping in that room with her again. Not ever. Shit, that was miserable and he woke up exhausted. His problem is, he doesn't want to sleep anywhere else.

When they can't keep their eyes open another minute, she's so relieved he doesn't suggest that he go sleep outside, or in the van, or some other crazy thing. They just walk upstairs, take turns in the bathroom and crawl into bed.

Neither of them misses how they so easily and quickly slip into routines.

He still doesn't fall asleep quite as quickly as he normally would, but thanks to so little sleep last night and another busy day, his fatigue wins in the end and sleep finds him.

It's Beth who's having a bit of trouble sleeping tonight. She listens to his soft rhythmic snoring and it's like she can feel him all around her. Her mind is going over all the things they did today, the fun, the work and the sadness. What she focuses on is that most of it was wonderful, and that's kind of a miracle. Two or three days ago she would have told you there would never be another wonderful day.

Thinking that way has her fighting the urge to slip out of her bed and into his. She only wants to wrap her arms around him and thank him. That's all. She would just like to hold him and to have him hold her.

Again she wakes to the smell of the coffee and she's anxious to get downstairs and join him. She hurries to the bathroom to potty and wash up a little, then before going down she gives herself permission to do one more thing. She ventures into the teenage girl's bedroom and opens the closet, picking a clean, soft t-shirt.

It's pink and stenciled over the small breast pocket is the word "Dream." No one has to tell Beth to dream, her dreams have been full of this place and Daryl Dixon. Not sexy dreams. Somehow they're better than that. The dreams involve just the two of them in this place. He's teaching her new things, and she's showing him new things, just like their waking hours. Except for a few important differences, there's more closeness, more smiles and the warm feeling of two happy people, comfortable and in love.

She's got to quit having these ridiculous thoughts and dreams. My gosh, the man can barely stand to touch her.

She walks in the kitchen and he hands her coffee, and he's almost smiling. Almost. He seems to be in a good mood this morning, "Hey, ya got a new shirt, looks nice. I should get me a new shirt too. Mine's gettin' thin as paper."

In the next breath he announces, "I'll cook this mornin', I think it's my turn. I'm just warnin' ya though, I ain't real good at it." He shrugs, "Then again, my eggs ain't ever killed anyone."

The day is starting off quite nicely, "I'm sure they'll be delicious."

It's over eggs, and for him the addition of fried chicken and blackberry jam, that he suggests, "I was figurin' if we stay another day we can do some more shootin'. You can get some target practice in, and if ya want, I can show ya how ta shoot the crossbow. While we're out there walkin' around we're bound ta come across some tracks, we'll see if ya can tell what them tracks are from."

There's no chance she's going to argue, she's as reluctant to leave this place as he is, and it's so easy to justify staying, "Alright, that makes sense."

He took the leather holsters from the secret gun cabinet and they're putting them to use. His pistol is at his right hip, while the sheath holding his big hunting knife is at his left hip. The crossbow strap lays across his chest and the big weapon rests on his back. To top it off he's bringing a game bag, just in case they come across some ruffed grouse or quail in the wheat field. He's got the draw string of the bag tied to a belt loop.

To her he looks so fierce, and it would be impossible to deny his manly appeal. She smiles at his quirkiness too. He's already torn the sleeves off the clean shirt he took, but Beth's not complaining. Those muscled arms aren't hard to look at and she already knows, in the rare moments they've been wrapped around her, those arms feel so warm and safe.

What Beth doesn't know is that he's watching her, taking in everything about her while also keeping a close eye on her. It isn't just because of his protective nature, she fascinates him. She looks so small and so delicate, but he saw her grab that chicken and make quick work of it. He almost laughs at the memory, there's a lot more to this woman than just being pretty and sweet. A lot more. And she can be plenty tough.

He's got to quit thinking about that stuff. He can't let himself get distracted. He made a promise he aims to keep. He's going to get her home to the farm and then that will be that. She'll be safe there with her family and she won't need or want him around. That's reality.

He'll say his goodbyes and move on. He'll find Merle and they'll go do what they grew up doing, roam the mountains and try to stay alive.

Yep, that's it. Like it or not, they leave in the morning.

It's just, dammit, why does she have to be so appealing? It makes everything so much harder. Look at her. Carrying that big rifle slung over her left shoulder. He had to cut the belt for the holster down but it fits her now. The pistol he nabbed at the liquor store is resting on her right hip and the sheath with the hunting knife he gave her is on her left hip.

With her small stature and that blond ponytail swaying side to side, wearing the pink t-shirt, tennis shoes and all those weapons. It doesn't quite go together, yet it does. She's his blond haired badass in a pink t-shirt.

His? Oh fuck no. He didn't mean to think that.

They make a decision, this morning they're going to venture further away from the van and house than they've been willing to go. They reason that they haven't experienced any trouble yet, and hell, they're well-armed and they can both run at a good clip. They might even find something for dinner.

They agree to wander through the orchard first, and Beth tells him, "Most of the fruit should have been harvested by now. We'll probably find a lot rotting on the ground, but the apples might still be alright, they get picked a little later. We'll just have to see."

He nods, "I don't even remember the last time I ate a apple, but now that I can't just go buy one anytime I want, I'm kinda cravin' one. Weird, huh?"

"No, not weird, I think that's just human nature."

The smell of rotting fruit is almost overwhelming and Beth remarks, "This is such a shame, I can tell it's been beautifully maintained and now…gosh, what a waste."

They do find a few apples and Daryl puts all but one in the game bag. He puts that one in his mouth, bites down and smiles, "Yep, tastes just like I wanted it ta taste, ya sure ya don't want one?"

"I think I'll wait a while."

The words are no sooner out of her mouth than they hear it, the growling. Right away they peg this walker as the farmhand. He's wearing old fashioned denim overalls and a hickory shirt. Daryl saw the living quarters in the barn for a hand. Nothing fancy, a cramped room with a cot, a small bureau, a couple of wall hooks for clothes, and a very rough bathroom. Daryl just assumed the hand had left, or worse, but yeah, this must be him.

He's moving quite slow, dragging his left leg. It looks to be broken in more than one place. This is a good opportunity. "A'ight Beth, this one's yours. Ya pull your pistol and remember ta aim for the head. I'll be right here backin' ya up. K?"

"Yes." This is her big chance; she's got to learn to protect herself this way. She pulls the pistol from the holster.

Daryl's got his crossbow cocked and loaded, but he's not doing anything unless he has to. This is all about her and he's hoping to God she puts the thing down. Nothing will give her more confidence than a little success.

She aims, remembers to squeeze the trigger, not pull, and the bullet flies. Oh my gosh, she hits her target! But the bullet only grazes the walker's right temple. Still, with its broken leg and the jolt of being hit, the thing falls to the ground and Beth hurries closer. It's reaching for her and the guttural sounds are so frantic. This time when she squeezes the trigger his body stops moving and there's no more sound, there's only a gaping wound dead center in his forehead.

"That's my girl!" Oh fuck him, did he just say that? "I mean, good shot." Yeah, that was cool.

She tries to pretend she didn't hear what he said, and tells herself it didn't mean anything anyway. It was just a slip of the tongue.

Besides, right now she's focusing on something else, she's so excited about her success, "Oh my gosh Daryl! I can't believe I just did that. Oh my gosh!" Then she frowns, "I probably shouldn't be so happy about taking a life. It's wrong."

He squints his eyes at her, "Ya serious? Ya think that thing was alive? Whatever person that used ta be ain't been livin' in that body since he died the first time."

"Okay, you're right. I'm sure you're right."

He doesn't want to sound soft and caring, but dammit, it happens, "I ain't always right, but I promise, I'm right about this."

"Do you think we should burn the body with the…with the family?"

"I wouldn't if he was some random walker, but he was probably their friend, so yeah. I'll take him over there later on, after we're done out here."

She nods, "Thank you Daryl."

He knows that tone already. Something's bothering her, "What's wrong?"

"I just feel…"

"Guilty. And don't. Shit girl, I keep tellin' ya, this is about survival. Ya think that thing woulda thought twice about chompin' ya down? Like maybe he shouldn't do it? Hell no, so snap out of it. Whaddya say we do a little target practice?"

He's right, of course he's right, she just has to change the way she looks at things. She reminds herself for the millionth time, the world is different now and she's got to be different too. Of course she wants to survive. She wants to prove to herself and to Daryl, she can.

They spend a half hour shooting cans and bottles and whatever they can find off the fence, then he asks, "Whaddya wanna try next, rifle or crossbow?"

"I'm not so sure I can even lift the crossbow, but I think I'd like to try."

That makes him smile, not a big happy smile, but there's a little smile on his face, she can just barely see it, "Yeah, it's too heavy n way too big for ya. If we were at the store buyin' ya your own crossbow we'd get ya one that was sized right. For now, this is all we got."

He, on the other hand, swings that big crossbow around and off his back like it's a feather. His tone is serious as he explains, "You're strong n you're tough n all that, but it takes a lotta strength ta cock a crossbow this size. I'ma show ya how that's done"

"See this? I ya set ya up with this rope pull here. I don't em cuz I don't need to, but it'll help ya cuz it cuts the draw strength ya need by about half. K? So, first be sure n point the bow at the ground. Then see this? That's the stirrup, set your foot real firm in it, then ya gotta put the safety switch in the Fire position or the string won't latch. Got it?"

"Yes, got it."

Beth can't help but notice how the muscles in his arms and even his neck flex as he's showing her how to use the rope device to cock the big bow. His body is a beautiful and powerful machine and she can't imagine she has the strength to do what he just did, but she's determined to at least try.

Once the bow is cocked he says, "Then ya take your foot off the stirrup, lift the bow horizontal, see? Then get ya an arrow from the quiver n ya slide it along the flight rail, here, until the nock settles against the string. See?"

"Yes, okay." Yes and okay, but she still doesn't really think she has the power to do all that.

Daryl seems upbeat, quite happy about all of this, "A'ight, whaddya think girl? Ya ready ta shoot?"

"Sure, I'm ready to at least try."

Shit, if this was Merle, or any of his old buddies Daryl would be telling them to quit being such weak asses and just do it. This is different because she's different, and the fact that she's different seems to be making him different.

"Ya know Beth, ya got the right attitude. It's good not ta think it's easy or just a game, like it's some big toy ya pick up n start shootin' shit with. I bet there's all kindsa crossbows out there sittin' in garages that were never used. Guys just give up cuz they thought it was gonna be so simple. It ain't."

"Okay, so now, ya feel the weight of it? Can ya lift it up like you were gonna shoot a rifle?" She does but he can see her muscles quiver as she struggles with the weight and the size. He extends his arm and helps to hold it up, nice and straight.

It's a lot easier with him helping with the weight and the balance, she smiles, "I've got it Daryl!"

"That's right, you're doin' good. Okay, now, see that big knot in the tree up ahead, see it?"

"Yes."

"A'ight, that's your target, take aim through the sight pins here, n try'n relax a little. Keep your finger away from the trigger til ya make sure you 're ready ta shoot, then slide the safety here to the Fire position."

"Like this?"

"Yep, just like that. Now, keep your eye on the target n your fingertip on the trigger. Once ya pull back on the trigger, an ya wanna do that real gentle but firm, the arrow's gonna fly. K? Don't take your eyes off the target."

"Yes, okay." She's been a nervous wreck about trying the crossbow but Daryl's been surprisingly patient and helpful. There's more to what she's feeling and she doesn't even try to kid herself about what that "more" is, she likes it when they're so physically close.

Is this man even aware how attractive he is? No, she's certain he has no idea, but she sure as heck does. He's not just some pretty boy gym rat either. His muscles are all natural, earned from hard physical labor. Everything about him emanates raw strength and masculinity.

Stop it Beth.

Okay now, let's do this. She takes in a deep breath and slowly lets it out as she pulls the trigger and as the trigger breaks, the crossbow string releases, the arrow flies down the rail, through the air, and ends up skittering through the dirt a foot or so from the tree.

He smiles, "Not bad. Ya got close."

"Are you kidding Daryl? That was awful! That's a big tree and I didn't hit any part of it."

"Yeah, but the arrow flew n ya got close n now, if you're really serious about this shit, ya just gotta keep practicin' til someday it all comes so natural ya hardly even think about it." He shrugs, "But I gotta tell ya, even though I know ya can learn the crossbow I think you'd be happier with a recurve bow. That won't be the first thing people take from the sportin' goods store so we could get lucky n find one."

She smiles back, "Okay, can we try this a couple more times? I'd like to be able to do it all, start to finish, just once. Cock it, load it and shoot it." She smiles, "But you're right, a recurve bow is probably better suited for me."

"Sure, we can keep shootin', and yeah, ya got good instincts and that's what it takes ta shoot a recurve. Shit, if we don't find one maybe I could make ya one."

"Really?"

"Yeah, made myself one when I's a kid. It wasn't real pretty but I killed a lotta rabbits n squirrels with that bow. Fed me many times."

She can't help but feel that twinge of sadness that always surfaces when he talks about his childhood. She wants to somehow fix it all for him, but then he really wouldn't be him would he? Daryl is Daryl because all his life he's had to be a survivor.

On the fourth try she manages to cock the big crossbow, lift it horizontal, load the arrow, lift to hold like a rifle, aim and shoot, all on her own. She even knocks a little bark off the tree and she's ecstatic. That's all she needed to accomplish to say, "I can't believe it Daryl! I can't wait for us to find a recurve. Can you imagine the team we'll make, you shooting the crossbow, me with my recurve, we're going to be awesome."

Her enthusiasm might be catching if he wasn't so sure that soon she won't need or want the likes of him around anymore. "Yeah, that'll be us. Right now I'm hungry, and I know your arms gotta be on fire. Let's get back ta the farm and get ourselves fed and organized. We'll cut out early in the mornin'."

"Oh, okay." The way he said that, it seems so abrupt and his disposition seems to have darkened again. They could have stayed another day. She hasn't even shot the rifle yet. But she's not going to insist they stay.

Daryl's been so good to her, she'll go along with whatever he wants. But she's feeling a little scared and blue, what happens once they get to the farm? Will he just drop her off and leave? Probably. He wants to find his brother.

The reality feels like a jab to her heart.

The mood at dinner isn't nearly as happy as their previous dinners here. It's delicious, and they're grateful, but the mood is somber and there's almost no conversation.

As they clean up after themselves Beth tries to lighten the spirit of the evening, "How about some more poker tonight, Daryl? I feel a winning streak coming on."

He's agreeable, but boy does his consent lack enthusiasm, "Yeah, sure. Nuthin' else ta do."

Again they play at the kitchen table, but the game is not as lively and playful as last night. Everything just feels like it's drowning in sadness.

Morning comes and the mood isn't any lighter. They drink their coffee and eat their eggs in silence, and then he says, "A'ight, we better load up n hit the road."

They're leaving and this is not their place, or anyone else's now, yet for some reason both of them feel compelled to leave it as nice and tidy as it was when they arrived.

The last thing to do before they go is burn the bodies, and a few feet from the bodies, the pile of trash.

He wants her to wait in the van but she insists, "Whether they meant to or not, these people helped us so much. I want to pay my respects."

He gets it, he feels the same, "Yeah, okay, but just stick close ta me n be ready ta run. A'ight?"

"Yes, okay."

He pours a little more gas on the canvas tarp covering the bodies, and some on the trash pile. He lights the matches, the flames kick up and it happens. It's not something he intended to do, but it feels so right as they watch the fire burn and he reaches over, clasps her hand in his and their fingers twine together.

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A/N I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you'll leave a comment. There's a chapter photo on my tumblr blogs, gneebee and bethylmethbrick, please have a look. I'll be back next Thursday as Daryl and Beth hit the road again. I hope you'll be here too. Until then remember. I love ya large! xo gneebee