It was early when Daryl opened his eyes. His entire body felt stiff and sore, but the headache which had plagued him earlier had abated somewhat. He gingerly reached down to the bandages at his side, testing the intensity of the pain. He groaned, clamped his teeth down, and then sat himself up. So long as he was careful and slow, the stitches shouldn't tear. Providing the girl had done a good job. Daryl respected her daddy, he was a good, methodical man who Rick trusted, and Daryl trusted Rick. But he had never had many dealings with the girl, who was young and quiet, kept herself to herself. Daryl respected that, it was how he himself preferred to be. The others must have trusted her to fix him up, so he wasn't too worried.

The pain in his side was strong, but it wasn't overwhelming, so he pulled himself up and grabbed his shirt. It was bloodied and torn, but it would do for now. As he left he room, heading for his own bunk, he remembered the girl's singing; the soft sound of her quiet voice punctuating the stuffy air of the infirmary had been what woke him. Coming to in a world of pain, Daryl had been confused by the sound of it. He barely remembered getting back to the prison, let alone being fixed up, so upon gaining consciousness he had not been entirely confident on where he was – had he even made it back? He half expected to find himself laying in the middle of nowhere, nothing but the sounds of the approaching walkers to wake him. So the sound of her singing had been completely unexpected. It had calmed him, as he woke with the tendrils of panic still creeping at the edges of his consciousness. The girl's voice had gently but firmly knocked those away, as though her voice had breathed onto his mind, blowing away the worry. Daryl had been grateful.

He got to his own cell and pulled on a fresh shirt, ignoring the pain that seared in his side as he raised his arms. Yet more waves of relief washed over him as he spotted his crossbow, laying in wait for him on his own bed. These are good people he suddenly thought, surprising himself.

. . .

Beth's own morning was punctuated with the sounds of a baby's giggle – Judith. Over time, she had found herself in position of primary care-giver to the baby girl. She didn't mind, it was just as important a job as any other. Judith hadn't asked to be born into a world of chaos and hurt, so the least they could do was make it as easy and happy for her as they could. Beth sat on the floor of the common room, tickling the baby's chin, cooing at her and just generally making her chuckle. She liked the baby; she was a sign of everything Beth sought for in the new world – innocence, goodness. Something which was not easily recognisable in people now, not any more.

As morning ticked over in to afternoon, Beth found her way down to the small farm area they had created – as a farmer's daughter, this was where she felt most comfortable. Once again, however, she found herself longing for a horse. Riding had been one of her favourite past times, the exhilarating sense of freedom it had brought. Life now was hard, and adjusting to it was even harder, and sometimes Beth found herself longing for the ways of the time before - before everything had turned to shit. She tugged her sleeve down as she walked, making sure to entirely cover the scar that ran its way across her wrist. There were times in her past where she had been weak, and the pressures of the new world had grown too strong for her, but she was determined not to be liked that any more. She was alive, and so long as she breathed she would always find something to stay alive for. Glancing down towards the fence, she was surprised to see Daryl. He was clearing the walkers with the others, stabbing them through the chain link. Frowning, Beth paused to watch for a while. She was unsure whether he should be exerting so much physical energy after what had happened. Biting her lip, she shifted her weight from one foot to the next. She doubted very strongly that he would appreciate being told what to do by her – but that was her handy work keeping his side in one piece, and she felt an obligation to keep it that way. Taking a deep breath, she changed course and headed down to the fence. As she grew closer to the older man, she could see the light sheen of sweat lacing the muscles of his arms as he expertly moved them. She cleared her throat.

'Uh, Daryl,' she called. He paused in his exercise and turned to look at her, his face impassive.

'I'm not sure you should be doing that, what with-' she gestured to his side.

'I'm fine,' he grunted, turning back away from her to face the walker currently chomping at the bit to get to him. He plunged his knife straight into the forehead of the thing, then heavily yanked the knife back out. Rotten blood spurted out of the hole, covering his arm, before the walker, finally actually dead, fell to the ground, only to be trampled on and replaced by another.

'Can I see,' Beth said.

'Wha'?' Daryl turned back to look at her, frowning.

'The stitches. Can I see them, make sure they're doing okay.' She repeated, attempting to keep her voice from cracking.

'I told ya they're fine,' he said, 'you aint no doctor, I know wha' stitches should look like m'self.'

'Okay, but, well, I did them and – and if they get infected or – or tear – then that's my fault-' she began twisting the hem of the sleeve between her fingers.

Daryl sighed audibly, threw down the knife, and stormed over to her. As he did, he yanked his shirt up, revealing the clean white bandage on his side. He came to a stop in front of her, holding his top slightly up his belly, his eyes looking down at his own wound.

Beth gingerly leant forward, her small fingers softly prodding at the skin around the bandage. Daryl seemed to suck in his breath at her touch, but he didn't move away. Carefully, Beth peeled away the dressing, to peer at the light stitches holding him together.

'S'it gonna scar?' Daryl grunted, making Beth jump.

'No, no I don't think so.' she shook her head, replacing the bandage. 'They look fine.'

'See. I told ya,' he huffed, letting his top fall back down.

'Yeah. But maybe find something a little less … physical to do,' she suggested.

Daryl huffed again, then turned his back to her and walked away. Beth watched him go, stooping to retrieve the knife from where he had left it. He returned to the fence and continued skewering the head's of the remaining walkers. She sighed. He was stubborn, but she hadn't expected any different. If she said she had believed he would listen to her, take her advice, she'd be lying. So she turned her own back on him, heading back up towards the veg patch.

As Daryl plunged his knife into the skull of yet another walking meat-bag, he couldn't help but wonder about Beth. He hated anyone telling him what to do or interfering with him. Her touch had made him uncomfortable, but somewhere inside him was that same, unfamiliar feeling of gratitude. They didn't know each other, but she knew him well enough to expect to have her head bitten off if she tried to tell him what to do – yet she had done it anyway. A strange sense of guilt seemed to join the gratitude. She had potentially saved his life, and he treated her like a jerk. It was his go to reaction, he wasn't about to apologise for it. But the interaction had made him feel weird, none the less.
She don't care 'bout me, she just wants to check up on her handiwork he told himself, as his knife made contact with another mushed up brain. And there was nothing wrong with that. It only bothered him that her handiwork happened to be on his body.

. . .

The dull, throbbing pain in his side caused Daryl to wake with a grunt. All around him was dark and silent, the small cell room in which he slept bathed in the blanket of night. He lay there for a while, on his back, looking up at the iron crosswork of the underneath of the bunk above him – empty, of course. He didn't share. The mattress beneath him creaked as he pushed himself up, careful not to cause any more pain to his side. He was exhausted, but then he always was. He had never been much of a sleeper before the fall, but now it was even worse. Being shut up didn't help matters either. He supposed most others felt safer, protected within the confines of the prison walls. But him? He missed the outside, missed the wind, the trees, the quiet peace it brought. Cooped up inside, he felt like a caged animal. It wasn't right. Rick had forbid him for hunting until his stitches were fully healed – he'd obeyed, because he both trusted and respected Rick, but he resented it. It had been a ridiculous accident, stupidity on his part. If it hindered his ability to leave the prison grounds... well. He crunched his teeth together, grinding them. This was no use. His side throbbed louder now, yelling at him, reminding him how stupid he was. In a fit of anger, he grabbed the pillow he had been sleeping on and threw it across it the room, where it hit the wall with a very dull thud, then landed on the floor softly. That hadn't helped. Sighing, he pulled himself up and left his cell.

He needed something to numb the pain. A stiff drink would do best, but he knew better than to expect to find any of that within these walls. So instead he headed towards the infirmary, where he was sure he would find painkillers of some sort. They had definitely swept a pharmacy at some point, and the girl had had the materials and tools to fix him up well enough, so it was a good bet, and the only one available to him.

As he rounded the infirmary a soft, familiar sound struck him, drifting through the quiet of the night to reach him. He paused, frowning, turning his head towards the sound. It was singing, and he was pretty sure it was Beth. Stationary for a moment, he paused to listen. It was a very sweet sound, but it sounded sad. Daryl continued on his way, finding the sound grew as he walked. As he reached the door to the room he sought he saw Beth, with her back to him, singing softly to Judith. He could see she was feeding her, and the baby was gazing up at Beth with her big brown eyes. Beth was very gently rocking her to and fro, occasionally gently stroking her small, chubby face. Daryl was struck by the sight. It was so intimate, so tender, he almost felt bad for watching. Beth's hair was pulled up high onto her head so he could see the soft curve of her pale neck, could see the way her shoulders rose and fell as she sung, the way her hips swayed as she rocked the baby. He was overcome with an emotion he was not at all familiar with, and could not understand. A strange, tingling sensation seemed to rise from the pit of his stomach, a shiver ran down his spine as she sung. He could no longer decide if he was very cold, or very hot. Feeling weird and awkward standing in the doorway, he cleared his throat. If she turned and caught him lurking – staring - god knows what she would think.

'Daryl!' she gasped as she spun round. Daryl could see the dark circles under her eyes, the look of tired dejection that accompanied them.

'I jus' wanted somethin' to ease this pain,' he said, nodding down at his side.

'Oh, oh of course,' Beth nodded. Daryl could see the heat rising in her cheeks. He dropped his gaze down to the baby in her arms, who was still staring up at the girl.

'Where's Rick?' he asked.

'Oh, he's on watch duty,' Beth said, looking down at the baby in her arms and smiling at her, 'but I look after this little one quite a lot.' She smiled, but Daryl could see it didn't quite reach her eyes. A look he was all too familiar with.

'Y'okay?' he asked, a little awkwardly, his voice sounding surlier and gruffer than he had intended it to.

'Oh, yeah,' she smiled, glancing up at him, 'I don't know, I guess... I guess I never expected life to be like this. I mean, no one did, obviously, but I always saw myself growing up and finishing college and getting married and having my own baby.' She smiled, looking down at Judith's little face as she did so, 'It's stupid, really, but I guess it's hard to know that will never happen now, not any more.'

'Mm,' Daryl was way out of his depth, he lingered awkwardly in the doorway.

'Sorry,' Beth shook her head, feeling stupid, 'painkillers, right?'

'Yeah,' he nodded, feeling relieved the out-pour of emotions was over.

'They're just over there,' she said, gesturing with her head towards a cabinet. Daryl nodded, and headed in the direction. He felt on edge, but he wasn't sure why. His finely honed hunter instincts had the hairs on the back of his neck standing up, but when he glanced back over his shoulder, Beth had turned away from him and was focused back on Judith. He let his breath out and found the pack she had meant.

'A'right' he said, as she turned back around.

'You get the right ones?' she asked, coming closer to him.

'Uh huh' Daryl nodded, looking down at Judith. Her big eyes had turned towards him.

'You sleep well, lil' ass kicker,' he said to her, reaching out to stroke a tiny strand of hair from her forehead. She wriggled in Beth's arms and flashed him a gummy smile.

'Maybe you should look after her from now on,' Beth teased, smiling down at her little head

'Nah,' Daryl huffed, 'I aint never had much dealin' with babies.'

'Well this one seems to like you,' Beth said, looking up at him. He caught her eye and for a moment, and kept it. Beth felt as if she was being searched, he looked at her with such a strong intensity as if trying to figure her out. She held his gaze, allowing him the time to see if he could find whatever it was he was looking for. Just as she felt her heart begin to race, he dropped his gaze.

'Well, night,' he grunted, then headed out of the room.

Beth let out a long breath she hadn't even been aware of holding.

'What did you think about that, ay?' she whispered to the little girl in her arms, 'the big scary man doesn't scare you, does he? No,' she nuzzled the baby's cheek, hearing Judith giggle again. 'I'm not sure he scares me, neither.'