A/N Thank you so much everyone! I guess we'd better get this deer butchered. This chapter we'll see our couple get to know each other a little better, and a big decision will be made.

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He's all smiles but she's as red as a cherry. She knows the way his shoulder softly bumped hers was no accident. Although it really wasn't too forward, not really. The gesture was more playful than flirtatious, but what he said…and oh my goodness what she admitted.

Even though he can't believe he just did what he did and said what he said, he's glad he did.

He's still smiling, maybe that's why she's not so sure if he's making fun of her or if he really meant those words. Maybe that's why she gets a little sassy. Her hands are on her hips and there's no hint of a smile from her when she tells him, "For your information Mister Dixon, I'm a very fast learner. All you have to do is explain how you want me to help and I'm sure I won't have any difficulty."

His smile doesn't fade, in fact it may have even grown larger when he suggests, "How bout while I'm cuttin' up this meat you sing me some a them songs of yours?"

She's surprised by his request, he doesn't seem like the sort who enjoys worship music so she asks, "Really? I wasn't sure you liked my singing."

He shrugs, "Why wouldn't I? It's better'n anythin' they got on the radio."

Although his words are sweet she's feeling a little disappointed. She always enjoys singing, but she was looking forward to having this time with him. She asks again, "So instead of me helping with the work, you prefer I go to the sitting room, play piano and sing while you're in here doing all of it?"

The last thing he wants is for her to leave the room, that isn't what he meant at all. He was looking forward to having this time with her. It's a way for them to be together without worrying about rules. He quickly shakes his head and makes it clear, "No, I's hopin' you'd stay in here with me. Can ya just sit there on the stool or sumthin'? Do ya need the piano?"

That's better, at least she'll be in the same room with him even if they're not talking. "Yes of course." As she seats herself on the kitchen stool she asks another question. She's been curious about something for a while, "Do you attend services Mister Daryl?"

Before he answers her he has a question of his own, "Do ya think you could just call me Daryl when no one else is around? And maybe agree I could call ya Beth? Is that all right?"

He's surprised that his suggestion makes her blush, but she sure does look pretty with that pink in her cheeks as she quietly answers, "Yes, yes, I think that would be all right."

He's suddenly looking a little shy himself as he shrugs and answers her question, "I never did go ta church growin' up, we wasn't that kind of family. Things changed when I went in the army, the Sarge made us all go ta chapel every Sunday. He said it builds character. Some guys were real glad ta have the chance, some didn't wanna go at all. As for me, I didn't mind and it didn't matter anyway, we didn't have a choice."

"Later, when I was fightin' overseas the chaplain had some kind of service or prayer meeting whenever he could, wherever he could. I's like every other soldier I served with, I went when I's able. We all seemed to need it then, but truth is I ain't been ta church since."

Every time he tells her a little something about himself it seems to bring up a new question, "You fought in The Great War?"

"I did."

Her Mama would be ashamed of her prying in this way, but she can't seem to stop herself, and worse, after she makes the statement she realizes she was even quite insulting, "I didn't think you were that old."

At first her words surprise him, then he begins to quietly laugh before answering, "I'm old as dirt, a regular dinosaur." He can see she's embarrassed and he doesn't want her to be. He wants this to be a time for them to get to know each other a little, so he states the simple facts, "I joined the army when I's 15, the war ended when I was 18. I'm 28 now."

She can't believe she still doesn't stop herself, but she just wants to know everything about him she can, "Isn't 15 quite young to join the army? I thought a man had to be 18."

He shrugs and tells her the truth, "That's the rule, but I guess I didn't pay much attention ta rules back then. I mighta fudged a little."

She only nods and he decides, what the hell? He wants to know things too and it was her who started this, so he asks, "How old are you Beth?"

"I'm 18. I'm also very sorry to be prying this way. I realize I've been quite rude Daryl."

Young, shit she's so young.

He shrugs, "Ya ain't rude, you're the same as me. I wanna know about you too."

There's a slight smile on her lips when she nods and says, "I see, well I should just quit talking and start singing. Um, you are aware the only type of songs I sing are hymns, aren't you?"

He figured that was the case, that's all he's ever heard from her. And anyway, he can't imagine her singing jazz or swing in some smoky speakeasy. He shrugs when he tells her, "That's okay by me, I could probably do with hearin' that kinda thing more often." It's not the words or the tune, it's her sweet voice he cares to hear.

She softly smiles and begins to sing a favorite hymn of hers, pleased to see he seems to be enjoying it. Yet, she does feel a little silly singing worship music as she watches him expertly, and seemingly effortlessly, butcher the animal.

Worse is the way she's thinking about him while singing a song of praise. She can't seem to help herself though, she's completely taken by how manly and capable he is, and handsome. My goodness, it's hard to decide which is his most impressive feature.

Is it the blue of his eyes? Or maybe his strong jaw? Maybe. But she's never seen the like of shoulders as broad as his, or such muscled arms and powerful hands. Oh dear. Shame on her, instead of thinking about such things she should be thinking about the blessing of this bounty. The buck will feed the house very well for more than a week. It's truly a gift.

Him doing all the work is still bothering her. She wants to help him like she said she would. With that in mind, after three songs she takes a break from her singing. It seems like time to begin wrapping the meat and she can certainly handle that part of the job.

She tears off several sheets of the butcher paper and he points to where the already cut meat is waiting, telling her, "All the cuts on this end a the table are ready ta go. You decide how ya wanna portion it out. I never cooked for more'n two at a time. I wouldn't know how ya figure the amount ya need for a meal around here."

Two? Hmm. But she can't dwell on those things right this minute. He's here with her now and there's work to do. She picks up a roast and is just about to wash it off in the sink when he tells her, "Nah, it's best ya wait and wash it just before you're gonna cook it. The meat stays better that way. Besides, it's clean, I'm careful about that stuff."

Once again she worries she may have offended him, "It's not that it doesn't look clean. I just assumed rinsing it off was the right thing to do. I had no idea."

She's acting like she did something wrong and he doesn't want her to feel that way at all, so he teases, "A course ya didn't Beth. Why would you know? You ain't ever really done this stuff, you're just familiar with it."

She likes the way her name sounds when it's him who says it, she even likes the way he teases her. She giggles softly and says, "Stop, Daryl."

He likes the way his name sounds when it's her sweet voice saying it. But there's something worrisome on his mind. It's not store bought meat, it's wild game and he feels the need to tell her, "Besides bein' clean, the meat tastes good. The buck was eatin' right and I took care of gettin' it cleaned and skinned in a hurry. There's no gaminess to it either."

She thinks he might be teasing her again, "How could you possibly know how the meat tastes?"

He's so matter-of-fact when he answers, "When I's done guttin' it I cut off a chunk and tasted of it."

Her hand instantly covers her mouth and there's a horrified look in her eyes when she asks, "You mean you ate a piece of raw bloody meat?"

Her expression is all it takes for him to know, it's something this woman would never think to do. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything. It also turns up a long-ago memory and he knows; he best never tell her about the time he was so hungry he killed a squirrel and ate it raw.

All he says is, "Yeah, I just had a little taste. I wanted ta make sure it was good enough for you ta eat."

Her horrified expression once again turns to a shy smile and a blush comes to her cheek when she tells him, "Well thank you but it really wasn't necessary."

It's probably best to switch the subject and he asks, "Ya plannin' ta make bone broth or should I just get rid a the bones?"

"Bone broth? Is it like boiling chicken or turkey bones for soup?"

"Well, I ain't ever done it myself." He admits to her, "I ain't much of a cook. But what I been told is ya simmer the bones in a big pot and if ya leave just a little meat on em that's even better. I heard all day is best, from breakfast time ta dinner time. It's s'posed ta be real good for makin' stew and soup n such."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea. Yes, I'd like to try that."

He nods, and says, "Okay, best ones would probably be ribs, and neck, maybe shoulder. I don't think ya want them long bones unless you was cookin' in a big ol pot outside. That might be fun ta try sometime." He almost said "we could do it at my place," thank God he caught himself. He doesn't want to scare her off being too forward.

He's done with the cutting before she's done with the wrapping. He picks up the wax pencil and handing it to her says, "How bout I take over the wrapping part and you be the one who writes on the package? Your writin' looks a lot better'n mine."

That's when she gets daring and tells him, "Speaking of writing, I appreciate the note you wrote me so much, I even have it saved." Her cheeks flush and she doesn't quite look in his eyes when she adds, "I think your handwriting is very nice."

He can't believe what he just heard, she saved his note. Her words have his heart thumping, and her being so honest has him doing the same, "Even though I didn't care much for what it said, I saved the one you wrote me too. Just cuz it came from you."

They've shared what seems like such a simple moment, but for them it's powerful. They were honest and confessed feelings, each giving the other a little window into their heart. Something neither has ever done with anyone else.

They don't speak of it further, they need this time to think and feel, and they're both wondering what should or could happen next. For now the easiest thing is to simply continue their work as they attempt to absorb the full meaning of the moment.

When the wrapping's done and the meat and scrap are safely stored in the refrigerators, Beth begins to clean up the mess they've made. He asks, "Tell me where I can find more rags n I'll help ya?"

She's been cleaning up after men her whole life and she's a little surprised, "You clean?"

He looks at her and laughs a little when he says, "Let's just say I'm familiar with it."

She's trying not to laugh when she shakes her head and tells him, "Stop Daryl."

He explains, "I been on my own for a lotta years Beth, if I didn't clean up after myself no one else would either." She only smiles while fighting the urge to admit she would happily clean up after him.

By the time they've completed the task it's close to seven in the evening. He looks at her and says, "Thanks for all the help Beth, and the company. That was the best part. I never had such a good time cuttin' up a deer."

She smiles when she responds, "Thank you Daryl, I learned a lot from you today, now I'm even more familiar with butchering animals."

He smiles but looks a little reluctant when he says, "I best get upstairs and get my bath, tomorrow's gonna be a long Monday."

"Oh, yes, me too. Well goodnight then Daryl."

He begins to turn toward the stairs, then stops himself. When he pivots back his expression has become so serious, but the look in his eyes is tender. He glances down for just a moment and his fingertips gently brush along the back of her hand.

She feels her heart begin to beat faster as he takes a breath, nodding his head ever so slightly and in a soft voice he whispers the words, "I'm hopin' someday you'll let me kiss ya Beth."

She's unable to speak, all she can do is stare. And then he's gone.

Once in the bathroom he stands naked in the tub, rinsing himself off before he begins to fill it with water. It's been a long weekend of work and there's plenty of dirt and grime to wash away. Suddenly he realizes something and his shoulders slump. Dammit, he's filthy and he probably reeks to high heaven.

He didn't even think to concern himself with that earlier. Shit, there he was talking about kissing her and she probably couldn't wait for him to leave the room.

She's so sweet and so pretty and feminine, and there he was all big and awkward and smelling like a goat. Shit, if he would have just gone ahead and kissed her she would have probably punched him right in the nose. The picture of that almost succeeds in lightning his mood. She'd be the cutest person to ever take a swing at him.

He goes through the routine of taking his bath, trimming his hair and his facial hair, and finally brushing his teeth. He's performing all the necessary motions, not giving a conscious thought to any of it. His mind is consumed with thoughts of her and wondering how he can manage to have more time with her.

She takes her things in the bathroom, washes her face and applies her night cream. She brushes her teeth slips on her gown and then stops, letting out a sad little sigh as she takes a long look at herself in the mirror. Oh my how she wishes he would have just kissed her, admitting to herself she would allowed him the liberty of doing so. After all, how could she possibly push him away when she's been longing to feel his lips on hers?

Shame on her, she's not supposed to be thinking such things or longing for some man to kiss her. She's being just awful, but she can't seem to help herself. She doesn't care that it's too soon or that it may not be proper, or that he would be far too bold in assuming she would welcome such a gesture. It doesn't matter to her that it wouldn't be right, and she's sure she would have liked it. Very much.

Never could she have imagined herself being attracted to a man who looks to be such a ruffian, but now that she knows him better she knows the truth. Daryl Dixon is so good and such a gentleman. He's also quite humorous and oh so manly. She thinks it's the perfect combination.

She's made herself blush thinking about how much she would have liked to kiss him back. But she has to try not to think of such things right now. She needs to get herself to bed, he's right, tomorrow's Monday and that means a big workload. And it's not just the usual tasks, there's venison burger to be made.

She lays in her bed with her book, and she's gotten through three pages before realizing she has no idea what she's read. How can she absorb the words in the book when all she can think about is him, and how much she wishes spending time with him were not against the rules?

Once back in his room he remembers, the diary. He removes it from the drawer, sits at the small desk and writes about his brother's arrival and of the work that was done this weekend. Although he gets everything carefully notated, none of it is what his mind is really on. It seems no matter what else he may be doing he's always consumed with thoughts of her.

He's worked hard all weekend and sleep comes quickly, but it's not a peaceful sleep. It's the kind of restless night where a person tosses and turns and has crazy dreams. He doesn't usually remember dreaming at all, and the dream he has this night is one he hopes to quickly forget.

He and Beth are in some strange house, trapped by terrible looking creatures that are trying to kill them. He tells her to hurry and go, to run and he'll find her later. She protests that she will never leave him, but he insists and finally she climbs out the window. When he's fought and killed all the creatures, and the coast is clear he hurries to find her, but she's nowhere to be seen. There's only a car that's driving off. Someone has taken her.

He runs and runs all night long until he collapses to the ground, unable to run any further. When he jerks awake at two a.m. his body is covered with perspiration, and his sheets are a tangled and knotted mess. Shit, never has he had a nightmare so intense, and he can still feel the terrible fear and hurt of having lost her.

The dream spurs him into action. He goes to the bureau, once again retrieving his work diary. He nods to himself, yes, if he wants to have her in his life then something has to be done, and it's up to him to be the one who takes this step. He tears a sheet from the back of the book and he writes to her. Although the note is brief, the question may turn out to be the most important question he's ever asked anyone.

His throat is parched and his face feels hot, he'll get a drink of cold water, maybe even hold his head under the tap for a minute or two. He needs to cool down and calm down, he needs to get back to sleep.

He's aware it's the middle of the night, and living in a house with so many who are trying to sleep he does his best to be courteous. He barely makes a sound walking to the bathroom, and he's just as quiet on his way back. He's sure no one could have possibly heard him and then, just as his hand goes to his door he hears a door open at the end of the hall. Eric's room.

The man must be having the same kind of night he's having. Poor guy. Then he sees Aaron step through the door, and a half second after him is Eric. He's certain neither man is at all aware of his presence, they're too focused on each other.

The two men share an obviously romantic embrace and tender kiss and Daryl only wants to hurry into his own room unnoticed. He's successful in quietly turning the doorknob, but as the door opens another damn hinge squeaks.

Daryl looks anxiously toward Eric's room hoping it was unheard by anyone but him, but no. He's looking into the face of panic. Aaron seems frozen. Daryl doesn't know what the hell to say so he doesn't speak, he simply nods his head in a kind of awkward greeting and quickly enters his room. Damn.

He's not completely shocked. There was a time he might have been, but that was long ago. Back when he was growing up he heard about this kind of going's on, but he didn't believe it. Even when Merle told him he'd seen that kind of thing in jail, Daryl didn't believe his brother, he was always making up stories. It was when he went in the army he learned it was true. There really are men who love other men.

At first he wasn't sure what to think about that, he knew he'd never be interested in such a thing for himself, and he was confused by all of it. Then something happened that cleared his head on the subject for good.

They were locked in an especially brutal and bloody battle when he watched with horror, deep gratitude and an abundance of respect as one of "those kinds" of men sacrificed his own life to save his fellow soldiers. The young private threw himself on an enemy grenade and it was a sight Daryl knows he'll never forget. It was also the moment in his life when Daryl knew, it's only the character of a man that matters, not who he might love.

It must be sheer exhaustion that allows him to fall back to sleep and when he wakes he has to pause and think a minute, did that really happen? Yeah, it really did.

He puts the denim work shirt on and quickly buttons it, pulls the overalls up and buttons them at the waist, last he hooks the buckles on the shoulder straps. He gets into his work books, laces them up, and the final thing he does has him feeling a case of nerves. He carefully folds the note he wrote her and slips it in his pocket.

He only intends to make a quick stop in the bathroom to do what he has to do then wash his hands and brush his teeth. But he's barely set foot outside his door when Aaron approaches him, it's obvious he's been waiting.

The man starts to say, "Hey, please…"

Daryl stops him, shaking his head side to side when he says, "If I was ta have seen anythin', and I don't recall that I did, it wouldn't be any business of mine or my place ta tell."

A grateful smile crosses Aaron's face and Daryl could swear the man's eyes are glistening with tears when he whispers, "Thanks." Daryl knows full well why the man is so relieved. If Daryl was to tell Horvaths what he saw Aaron and Eric would no doubt lose their rooms here. There's even a chance word would get out and they'd lose their jobs. Unless some hateful assholes beat them to death first. It happens that way.

Again Daryl's the first one down the stairs, and again he's the last one at the table because he's lying in wait for her, just like the other morning. When she comes through the kitchen doorway with the pot of coffee in her hand he whispers, "Beth."

This time when she turns to glance his way there's a smile on her lips. He smiles back as he walks toward her and slyly slips the note in her apron pocket before hurrying to the table.

The other men are all seated and he sees where his place is. The only empty spot at the table, the chair next to Aaron. As he sits he also notices someone has poured his water and orange juice, he's sure he knows who it was. He nods at the man and Aaron nods back, and the other man, Eric, nods to him from across table.

She greets the men with a cheerful good morning, sets the coffee at the center of the table and hurries away, more so to read the note than in a rush to get their breakfast. She stops the second she gets in the sitting room and snatches the note from her apron pocket.

Her hand is laying on her chest and her mouth agape as she reads his words, "Dear Beth, I want to be with you more, every chance I get I want to spend my time with you. If you want to take a chance and break the rules give me some kind of sign. I'll think of a way. Sincerely, Daryl Dixon."

A few minutes later she's back, pushing the breakfast cart to the table. Before Abraham can even think about getting up from his seat Daryl's already lifting the big bowl of grits from the cart. She smiles and thanks him and as she sets the rest of the food on the table she says, "Oh, and Mister Daryl, that question you asked? I checked on that for you and the answer is yes."

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A/N I hope you enjoyed the chapter and that you'll leave a comment. As always, the chapter photo is on my tumblr blogs gneebee and bethylmethbrick - please check it out. I'll be back next Friday with a new chapter of The Stranger Upstairs and I hope you'll be here too! Until then remember, I love ya large! xo gneebee