It was late. He'd already been asleep for some time when he opened his eyes, his gaze automatically going to Beth's chair. It was empty. He laid there for a moment, his senses on guard. Thinking he really needed to get his knife back, he sat up. Listening.

She could be outside. She could be upstairs looking for another book, girl read more than anyone he ever knew but no light came from the loft. Behind him, something that sounded like dripping water caught his attention. Looking in the direction of the kitchen, a sliver of light spilled from the doorway. He stood and quietly went to the walkway between the two rooms.

Beth stood at the stove. Her hair was wet and the braid she always wore was unwound, her hair trailing down to her waist for the first time since he'd met her. Her legs were bare, a tank top stretched over her ribs cinching tightly to her body. The curve of her ass, covered by black boy-cut underwear, flowed from her small waist.

A stock pan on the burner, the flame turned low, she dipped a washcloth into the steaming water and wrung it out wiping her bare arm from shoulder to wrist. Then did the same with the other arm.

He stood frozen in place. For the first time in his life, he was unable to make a decision. Make himself known or retreat back to his bed. Going back to the mattress by the fire was the most logical answer. Why then, wouldn't his legs move?

The door to the firebox of the stove was slightly ajar, making Beth's water-dabbled skin glow. She lifted her hair off her neck and ran the cloth over her lily white skin. His lips tingled. His whole body tightened, heat traveled outward from his groin. His body reacted in a way he'd forgotten about.

He'd done the same, bathed from a heated pan of water on the stove but she gave him plenty of space and time to do so. He owed her a modicum of privacy in return.

She'd shared so much with him already. The books that weren't just books to her. They symbolized her father. She told him how she had to keep her dad from turning into a walker, lighting her childhood home on fire. That she'd lost her Ma and brother as well. She didn't have to tell him anything, still, she had. She could have sent him on his way a week ago. Didn't have to take him in at all. Could have left him for dead.

He should turn away.

Or he could go to her…

And then what? Then what. Then nothing.

There was no way she'd be receptive to him. He took a step back and another until he was at his mattress, under his blanket. Inexplicably angry at himself and the situation. There was no time for this - this nonsense. No time for feelings. Caring for people only got you hurt. He'd be leaving soon enough. Staying wasn't an option.

Beth knew he was there. She'd trained herself, or more like the world trained her, to be aware. She felt his presence and felt it leave when he'd gone back to bed.

She entertained the idea, only for a second, of him coming up behind her. Wrapping his arms around her. His lips on hers. His rough hands running over her hot skin. It was there, a spark of hope. She trampled it down quickly enough, knowing better. There just wasn't a place left in her heart for more pain. And developing feelings for someone always seemed to bring pain.

She missed the act of touch. Not that she was very experienced but just the brush of fingertips, a guided hand along her lower back, the intimacy of a kiss. She'd settled into her life here at the cabin resolutely, it didn't mean she wasn't lonely for something, or someone.

In the morning both pretended as though nothing happened. Daryl pretended like he didn't see Beth bathing and she pretended like she didn't know he was there.

Daryl's lack of interest annoyed her. And her annoyance confused her. She had quickly and easily shut that part of herself off knowing there wasn't a huge dating pool at the end of the world. She convinced herself that she didn't need a partner. Didn't need someone to share her life with.

It was incredibly unfair. She'd just begun to date, date beyond holding hands to and from class in school or exchanging text messages non-stop. Her father had finally okayed her dating, mostly going out on group outings and the occasional date with just her and a guy. Jimmy was the most persistent. He was equally young and inexperienced, that didn't stop them.

But who said life was fair, even back then.

Daryl was the complete opposite of Jimmy. It didn't escape her that he was a bit older. His beard was sprinkled with silver. Small creases sprouted from the corners of his eyes. It didn't mar his attractiveness any, if anything it was part of his appeal. Age, like so many other things, meant nothing now.

She shook her head, focusing on loading wood into the cart. Why did it matter? It didn't. It didn't matter that he ignored her the night before. It didn't matter his age. His background didn't matter. How he felt about her… didn't matter. What mattered was getting the day's load of wood into the house. Fetching the day's water from the well. Gathering food from the root cellar.

But she turned around and there he was leaning against a nearby tree. His gaze followed her as she threw the last piece of wood onto the cart. Her heart annoyingly skipped. Before she could maneuver the cart in the direction of the house he had joined her, taking the cart and slowly guiding it over the bumpy, soft ground.

"I got it," she said, her voice small.

His response was to grunt and to keep pushing the cart. It was almost like he knew his help annoyed her and he didn't care.

"For real," she told him.

"Well, if you're for real," he said, leaving her to wonder if he was teasing.

"Daryl," she said on the verge of annoyance as well as laughter. Confusion muddled her brain and she rolled her eyes at him. "Just let me. I been doing this on my own for a long time." Even at home, she had plenty of chores to do.

"But now you don't gotta'."

Except she would after he left and she wasn't about to get used to him being here. Was not going to rely on his help.

"You're bein' stubborn, " he said, a slight smile tugging on the corner of his lip.

"You say it like it's a bad thing."

That made him chuckle. His laugh, deep in his chest. A slight smile from someone that didn't smile very much was all so damn irresistible. It occurred to her he was enjoying this. Stifling her own laugh, she rolled her eyes -again, and shoved lightly at his chest. His hand caught hers and he pressed against his chest. Even through his layers of clothing, she felt his heart beat strong. Felt the heat radiating from his body.

The longer he held her hand there the less irritated with him she became. Her thoughts went back to the night before. How her body reacted to his presence before she even realized he was there. Goosebumps formed on her arms and legs. A lightness in her chest. A tingling ache between her legs.

"It's just fucking firewood," he almost whispered, closing the gap between them. "Let me help."

The need to step into him coexisted seamlessly with the need to run away. She wanted so badly to see what he would do if she slowly and quietly lifted onto her toes and placed her lips lightly to his.

Their stare held, her hand stayed pinned between his hand and chest. As usual, she was sure she was overthinking things, misreading his actions. This was confirmed as he took a step back, looked off into the trees.

She humph-ed her aggravation and confusion, bending to take the cart back into her possession.

"What was that?" He whispered, angling his head. Automatically stepping in front of her, blocking her body with his.

She was a second away from telling him she didn't need his cover when two people emerged from the shadow of the trees. A man and a woman. The man put his hands up as if in surrender, slowly approaching.

"Hello?" A question, not a statement, the man said, taking slow steps toward them. He was very tall, taller than Daryl, with a long scraggly beard and such a dirty face hardly any skin was visible. Long greasy hair stuck out from a stocking cap. He wore layers of clothes, just like the rest of them. It gave him more girth than his lean frame held.

Behind him, there was a young woman with dark hair. Through the dirt on her face, only less so than the amount of dirt on the man's face, it was notable she was quite a bit younger. She looked dazed, leary. Her clothes hung off her body but her jacket bulged around her middle.

"What's your business here?" Daryl asked.

Beth elbowed her way past Daryl. She was worried he would scare the woman and she already looked shell-shocked. They needed a little kindness, hospitality.

"Looks like you been on the road for a while." There was a clip to her voice, one that said she'd help but wouldn't take any shit either.

"Sure have," the man said, his voice a deep rumble. He halted a few feet from them, out of arm's reach. "We thought it'd be safer up here. Fewer walkers but also fewer people. Colder than we expected though. Heard there was a community up this way. Guessing you ain't it."

"No. The community is a couple miles away." She pointed in the direction. "Did you get caught in that snowstorm?" Beth asked the woman, seeing if she'd speak. She didn't, kept her gaze on the ground.

"We did. Found a barn practically falling down to ride out the worst of it," the man answered for her.

Before Beth could ask anything else, a tiny whine sounded coming from the woman. She came to life, shh-ing quietly. Unzipping the jacket a baby appeared, wrapped in a sling around the woman's middle and shoulders appeared.

Daryl heard Beth gasp. The woman spoke softly, giving the child a finger to suck on. "You hungry, baby?"

Looking from the baby to Beth and then Daryl, the man implored. "We have been on our own for a long time."

Beth skirted around the man and focused on the woman and baby. "How old?"

"Six months. He's getting heavy to carry 'round," she spoke quietly, looking at the baby, running a hand affectionately over his dark hair.

Beth nodded, making up her mind. "Well, you're welcome to come in. Warm up by the fire. Get cleaned up and rested. I got some soup to put on."

"Beth," Daryl chided, placing a hand around her elbow. "Wait a second. How many walkers have you killed?" He asked the man.

The man hesitated. Momentarily confused, maybe irritated. "Too many to count."

"How many people ya' killed?"

"Too many to count." A hint of irritation he tried to hide.

"Daryl. That's enough," Beth had done things a certain way, her own way. Her way started with not treating people like criminals. Everyone had killed walkers. Plenty of people have also had to kill living people. Didn't mean they were necessarily bad.

"Can I talk to ya'?" He wasn't asking.

She shot Daryl a stinging look but followed him closer to the house, out of earshot. "What the hell? You're going to just let this guy into the house?"

"I let you in my house," she reminded him. The man looked rough, some might say he's untrustworthy. If you were judging by looks Daryl didn't look like the friendliest guy either. Ruggedly handsome, yes. Friendly, no.

"I was knocked out, completely helpless," he retorted. He must have realized he still held onto her elbow because he snatched his hand away.

"They have a baby. I'm not turning them away." She was determined. He wasn't going to change her mind.

He thought a minute and watched the man and woman. "She's no more than a girl," he noted.

It stung. Did he think Beth was no more than a girl? She and the girl were close in age. She felt selfish for thinking about herself when there were two people and a baby in need of help and focused back on the problem at hand. "All the more reason to help them."

"Then gimmie back my knife."

She hesitated. She didn't want any violence under her roof. This was her sanctuary. She wanted to offer help to those who needed a safe haven as well.

He took a step closer, towering over her. His brow furrowed, his mouth formed a thin line. "You don't trust me?"

"This isn't about trust. It's about safety. No one carries a weapon into this house."

"Except you."

"It's my house."

Daryl stalked off to the wood cart and pushed it to the back door and began stacking it under the overhang where it was easy to access throughout the day and into the night. He watched the couple closely. Watched as Beth led them to the door.

"I do have a couple rules," she began. "No weapons in the house."

The man's spine straightened, he took a step back. "What do ya' mean 'no weapons'." The woman reacted as well, closely watching the man and how he'd react.

"It's the only way I can assure everyone's safety. If you have an issue with it then you can't come in." There was a little standoff between the man and Beth. He was clearly mulling over what to do next. "Staying out here in the elements will likely get you killed. Coming into my home, without a weapon, will keep you alive. Simple as that. I don't think you want to risk their lives because of your pride, do ya'?" She asked, gesturing to the woman and baby. "You can have them back when you leave."

The man hesitated and the woman looked at him imploringly. She wanted a warm place for at least one night, no doubt.

"Alright," he finally agreed. He took a large bowie knife from his belt in its sheath and handed it to Beth.

She took it and said, "Lift your shirt and turn."

Obviously agitated, he still did what she asked. No other weapons were tucked into the waist of his jeans. "Lift your pantlegs," She directed next. He did. Nothing there either.

Daryl was skeptical that all he carried was a knife. She did the same with the woman, she only carried a single knife as well. He watched as they entered the house wondering why he cared so much. If Beth wanted to invite them into her house, he had no say about it.

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