As soon as Beth was away from the prying eyes of the Dixons' she felt a little bit better. But as she pulled her bags from the truck, she could feel the uneasiness coiling in the pit of her stomach. She was really getting herself into a mess of lies, first with her mom and now with the brothers.

She had absolutely no idea what to put for half of that sheet she was supposed to fill out. Especially the emergency contact. She obviously couldn't put her home phone number. Was it too risky to put Maggie's cell? Annette might see a strange number on the bill and try to investigate. Beth had always been the good one, not Maggie. She could put Darcy's aunt's condo. Would they notice a Florida number or the long distance? Maybe a fake number…

Suddenly there was a noise from behind Beth and for the second time that day she found herself whirling around to see Daryl behind her. She was unsure of how long he'd been standing there, or how long she had been. He'd told her he'd meet her back in the shop after she grabbed her bags, but she found herself stuck in thought halfway through pulling out the second suitcase.

"Are you ready to go?" Daryl asked, peering over her shoulder to see if she had anymore bags. Which she didn't.

Beth regrouped herself from the startle he'd given her, again, and answered. "Yup."

"Okay let's get a move on then," Daryl turned toward the exit but then veered slightly towards the huge motorcycle sitting in the garage.

Beth's mind started racing. He wanted her to get on the back of that? Her parents always nagged about how motorcycles were death traps and if they ever caught her on one she'd be locked in her room forever (well, if she got caught doing what she was now she'd probably get locked in her room forever anyway. But she didn't want to add everything she wasn't supposed to do to the list.)

"Uhm...we're not going to the motel on that are we?" Beth's question came out in a squeak.

Daryl turned around and looked at her like she had no brain cells. "No."

"Oh..." Beth felt the relief flood through her as she watched him dig in the side bag of the bike, pull out a set of keys and stick them in his pocket.

"Merle's gone to the bar, I'm locking up."

Beth didn't have a reply to that. Of course that man was going to the bar. Even though they basically had one stocked in their mini fridge. Daryl was probably meeting him over there after to have himself a drink and Beth wondered if they always went to the bar every night; and if her truck was ever going to get fixed.

"Well, come on," Daryl was already halfway out the door and Beth was still standing by the truck.

She mumbled an apology and then walked across the shop to the door.

"You okay with walking?" Daryl asked and Beth guessed that if they weren't walking there wasn't another option.

"I like walking," Beth replied, deeply regretting not bringing suitcases with wheels like her mom had suggested.

After Daryl locked up he started leading Beth in the direction of the town. Apparently the brother's shop was on the very outskirts about three miles away from the nearest building. Beth hauled her bags and walked silently beside Daryl.

It was pretty obvious he didn't want to talk to her because he was mad. When she had asked how far away the motel was, he'd answered very gruffly and with as minimal syllables as possible. They had clearly gotten off on the wrong foot when Beth first got there.

Beth hated people being mad at her. Whenever someone started drama at school or her siblings argued she was always Switzerland, she didn't want to make anyone feel like they were being attacked or alone. And she certainly didn't want to be a target of anger.

Beth looked over at Daryl, who was stony face, and contemplated what she should say to clear the air. Maybe if she was just friendlier he'd be less stand offish. "So…have you lived here your whole life?"

Daryl kept his eyes straight, not answering and furrowing his eyebrows.

She tried to keep the conversation going though, keeping it light and simple. "This is my first time out of my home town. Well, I guess beside small trips with the family, but we couldn't be too far away from the farm too long."

Beth looked up at Daryl again trying to see if he was even listening. He seemed to be nodding his head as she talked.

"We have a whole bunch of animals on the farm, did you have any pets growing up? We had a few horses, my mother sometimes did riding lessons, but mostly they were the kids," Beth smiled to herself a bit, recalling how stupid she'd been with those horses. "We had this one horse named Nellie, she was as nervous as they came and Daddy told me to stay away from her.

"But being that I was just a little kid at the time I didn't listen. And not only did I not listen but I thought it'd be a good idea to ride bareback… that horse took off so fast into the woods…dragged me for at least five miles with nothing but the mane to hold onto."

That was a one hundred percent true story. Nervous Nellie had torn though the woods and onto the road leading into town. The only thing good about that was that Hershel had been coming back in from town and saw that horse whip passed the truck. He managed to stop it and gave Beth a look she'd never forget. Until she tried to ride Nellie again two days later that is.

If Daryl had been tuning her out he hadn't been able to do a very good job of it because he actually responded, "That's stupid."

Beth shrugged, knowing it was in fact stupid, "Yea, but I ended up being that only one that was able to ride Nellie after a few dozen tries."

Daryl's side of the conversation went silent again and Beth continued talking, thinking of different stories to tell, to occupy the time they still had left. She wasn't too good at judging time and distance, but from what she could guess they still had about two and a half miles to go.

. . .

By the time they had one mile to go Daryl's ear had been talked off and he was in a worse mood than when they'd started walking. He'd responded to one part of an absurd story and apparently that gave her the idea that he wanted to hear more.

He wondered if this was her way of making friends. It might have worked with teenagers or adults who were obsessed with themselves and had something to contribute, but it wasn't working with him.

It seemed like every other word that came out of her mouth was daddy this or daddy that, followed by some supposedly cute story about her life. It was getting on his very last nerve.

He regretted not taking the bike a little bit. He had actually fully considered it. It would have saved him from the chattiness, but the idea of having Beth on the back of his bike and holding on to him wasn't a fun one. He wasn't the biggest fan of contact with other people and she had already taken him off guard when she ran into him, so he decided walking was the best option.

The walk really should have only taken twenty minutes or so, but it he could feel them coming up on the half an hour mark. She was probably going a little slower because she was hauling her bags. It looked like she had at least 30 pounds in each. He could have helped her, but he really didn't feel like it. He wasn't a bag boy. Besides she wasn't complaining about carrying the things, she was too busy talking about her dumb family.

This girl didn't seem to have an off switch and tuning her out only partly worked because Daryl was so use to having to be aware of his surroundings. Even if it was something he didn't care about, he was attentive.

Finally, they passed the town sign and Jim's motel started coming into view, Daryl couldn't help but sign in relief. He started walking the pace he had been wanting to go the entire time and hoped Beth would try to keep up. He just wanted to get rid of her for the night.

When they walked into the office, Jim was sitting at the front desk with his feet up and watching the small television on the corner. The last time Daryl was in there was about a year ago, when he went looking for Jim he normally found him at the bar after his daughter took over the shift for the night.

Jim was one of his people. The people the rest of the town considered corrupted. The bar was their place. Made especially for them to hide out in while the rest of the community did their shopping, church going or whatever the prim and proper did during their down time.

"Daryl Dixon, what can I do for you?" Jim swung his feet off the desk and sat properly, he was talking to Daryl but staring at Beth.

"Well I just need the motel number and I'll be out of your hair, but Beth here needs a room."

"Oh, you got a live one to get work done at the shop did you?" Jim stood up and grabbed one of the keys hanging from the wall under the number twelve. "Do you know how long you'll be staying here for, Beth?"

"I'm not too sure yet really, not too long I hope. I'm going to Florida." Beth smiled sweetly at Joe and took the key from him.

The man smiled back at her and then started scrawling down the number of the motel on a scrap piece of paper for Daryl. Daryl moved a little closer, eager to get the paper so that he could finally leave when Jim looked up and said, "Why don't you help the girl with her bags, she's had a stressful day and is probably exhausted. Then when you get back we can go to the bar."

"Oh, no that's really fine," Beth waved the offer as she tried to balance the two suitcases, her purse and the key.

"You ain't gonna break Dixon, he can do some heavy lifting," Jim laughed. Probably knowing Daryl was anxious to leave. It was hilarious to him to make Daryl drag out an uncomfortable situation.

Daryl knew he wasn't going to get out of there unless he helped so before anyone could say anything else, he snatched one of the bags from the blonde and walked out the door with it. Following the once white tiles under the awning to her room.

"Wait up!" Beth was coming out the door and jogging up behind him with the rest of her things. "I really do appreciate this; I was getting a little tired. I can't wait to go to bed."

Daryl grunted and kept walking.

"I hope it's not too hot in the room, in my bedroom the heat just thrives and it's really hard to sleep sometimes. Daddy put one of the old fans in there and on high power it made next to no difference…"

Daryl was finally fed up with the endless chatter about her father and could feel himself on the verge of snapping. He needed a drink and a smoke and to get the hell away from her.

"But then…"

Before she could say the next part of her sentence, which Daryl assumed began with daddy, he cut her off. "I really don't give a fuck."

"Excuse me?" the genuine confusion on Beth's face made him even angrier and tipped the scale.

"I said I don't give a fuck," Daryl threw one of his arms up, "I don't care at all about your Daddy who buys you ponies or the life lessons he taught you or whatever the hell it is you keep talking about." He saw the mixture of hurt and rage start appearing on Beth's face, but he kept going despite it. "I don't need to know shit about your life or about your daddy who lends you trucks that you fuck up or anything! Just shut up."

"My dad didn't lend me that truck…" Beth looked like she was actually on the verge of tears.

"Oh he gave it to you, even better. What a stupid mistake."

Beth glared at him and puffed up her chest. She then snatched her bag out of his and started stalking off towards her door. She unlocked it, tossed her bags into the room and turned to Daryl who was standing a few yards away.

"He didn't lend it to me either. Jackass". The blonde's hand was on her hips and if looks could kill Daryl guessed he might be dead right now. "HE'S DEAD!"

With that Beth went into her room and slammed the door behind her. Leaving Daryl standing there alone with is mouth hanging slightly open. He was about to turn around when the door swung open one more time and Beth stuck her head out.

She yelled, "CALL ME TOMORROW TO UPDATE ME ABOUT THE TRUCK!" then slammed the door again.