Hershel was chatting idly to Beth about the best time to plant certain crops from his place in bed. He still maintained the belief that they could get a good agricultural farming system going, with livestock too. Beth listened happily; she was just glad he was up and talking.

Hershel had been bedridden with a bad case of influenza , most likely brought on by both the physical and mental effort of the tense farm escape.

Beth, however, was feeling more optimistic than she had in days; her daddy was better, Judith had been in the care of her own daddy the night before so she had slept the whole night through, and the sun was shining outside. She had come to visit her father after picking a few crops to show him, which had spurred on this talk. He sat on his own bed, his back propped up against the wall with some pillows, as Beth sat on the chair in front of him, her elbows resting on her thighs, head in hands. A light tap on the door frame caused them to both look round, Hershel's sentence railing off.

It was Daryl. Beth's heart announced his arrival to her by attempting to escape her ribcage.

'Daryl, come on in son, I heard all about your injuries, and this one here patched ya up right as reign, aye?' Hershel smiled at the man, winking over at Beth as he mentioned her.

'Mhmm,' Daryl nodded, 'how're y'doing?'

'Much better,' Hershel beamed, nodding. 'These walls keeping us tight and safe, allowing me time to recover, and the beautiful faces of my two girls, who I can only say I am blessed to still have!' Beth blushed deeply as her father spoke, looking down at her own hands in her lap as her cheeks burned.

'How can I help you, Daryl?'

'Actually,' Daryl said, a little gruff, 'it was your daugh'er I was lookin' for – these stitches.' He waved his hand in the general direction of his wound as explanation.

'Oh, you're called upon,' Hershel said, setting himself back against his pillows and smiling warmly at his youngest child.

'Maybe you should do it, Daddy, I-' Beth began, but the old man waved his hand.

'No, you're capable my girl, I need my rest. You go, go on.'

Knowing when she was being told what to do, Beth got up and gestured for Daryl to lead the way. She glanced back over at her father as she left, who was smiling encouragingly at her, his blue eyes sparkling.

. . .

Daryl had already reached the infirmary as Beth got there, so she gestured for him to sit on the bed.
'You want to – uh, move that?' she said, meaning his shirt. Daryl lifted the hem of the shirt, revealing the bandage.

'Alright,' Beth said, gathering what she would need, 'this might hurt.' Daryl nodded, solemn.

Slowly, Beth began to remove the stitches, quite pleased with herself to see all had healed well; there was barely eve a scar.

'How'd your learn this,' Daryl asked, causing Beth to look up. He was watching her work.

'My dad's been teaching me,' she said.

'You're not … squeamish?' Daryl asked.

Beth chuckled.

'I think I'd be hard pressed to be squeamish in this world any more, Daryl,' she laughed, 'but no. You think just because I'm a girl I'm going to run a mile – or swoon - at blood?'

Daryl just shrugged, so Beth laughed again, lightly shaking her head, her lose hair falling about her face in bouncing curls.

'No. I wanted to be a vet, anyway. Couldn't be squeamish to do that, could I?' she glanced up to see he was still looking at her, 'figure there can't be much difference between humans and animals.'

'Nah,' Daryl said, his voice deep. It spread a shiver down Beth's spine, which she tried to ignore.

'Besides, I need to earn my keep some way.' Beth added.

'Your keep?' Daryl asked.

'Yeah,' Beth said, cleaning the wound as she finished. 'My daddy always says 'everyone's got their jobs to do.' I guess this will have to be mine. There's not much else I can do to help around out here.'

'Hmm,' Daryl let his shirt drop back down now she was finished, 'how'd you mean?'

'Well,' she shrugged, 'I can't fight, I can't hunt, I'm no use to anyone where any of that is concerned. I don't need to be, anyway,' she added, looking up and catching his eye, 'that's why we have you.'

'Hm,' Daryl huffed, slowly running his hand over the scratchy beard of his chin. 'I can teach ya.'

'What?' Beth asked, taken aback.

'I can teach ya,' he repeated, 't' hunt. To fight.'

'Really?' Beth asked, excited, 'you'd do that?'

'I aint always gonna be around.' he shrugged, 'c'mon, s'join target practice.'

Beth stared at him for a minute, her heart in her throat.

'Okay,' she finally said, 'I just need to clean this up.'

'Fine,' Daryl said, 'I'll be outside.' Then he hoisted himself off of the bed and left the room.

Daryl was a lone wolf; he preferred to keep to himself and do things by himself, but he felt a little indebted to the young girl. She was so small and fragile, it wouldn't hurt to help her learn to defend herself. Rick and the others trusted and valued his opinion, but he still often felt like an outsider, and he was starting to believe the girl felt a similar way. Both her dad and her sister were valued members of their community, but Beth, she shrunk in to the background, getting grouped in with the kids but at the same time responsible for looking after them. How old was she, anyway?

Daryl mused over this as he headed outside and down to where they shot practice. Older than Carl, he thought, but how much older he didn't know. Besides, Carl acted so much older than he was. Daryl supposed having Rick as a father would do that to a kid. Kid or not, there was an innocent weakness to the girl, and Daryl thought showing her how to use a gun could only help her.

Beth found him down by the makeshift range, weighing up a gun in his hand. She cleared her throat as she approached, feeling a lot more nervous than was necessary.

'A'right,' Daryl said, handing her the gun, which she took gingerly, 'you know how t' shoot?'

'A little. I mean, I practiced a bit back at the farm, you know, but I guess I never saw the need to here.' She said, glancing at him.

'S'stupid,' Daryl gruffed, 'should always be ready. Aim for the head.'

Beth did, lining the gun up at the target, already ridden with bullet holes. She closed one eye and squeezed the trigger. Miss. Completely missed the target.

'I'm rusty,' she said apologetically, turning to look at him, lowering the gun.

Daryl chucked her a half smile.

'Here,' he approached her, taking her arms and putting them back into position. 'Focus through y'body, hold this arm stiff.' His hands were strong and firm on her, his face focused. He positioned himself a little closer, folding one arm across her, putting the flat of his palm against her shoulder to push it back slightly. Doing so pushed her body into his as he stood behind her. She became hyper aware of how close he was to her, feeling the warmth radiate from him into her. His face was almost touching her own as he lined up the gun, his hand over her smaller one. He moved his hand along her arm to rest at her elbow, then said 'now.'

Beth squeezed the trigger a second time, this time the bullet flew straight into the head of the target.

'Yes!' she squealed, turning her head to look at Daryl over her shoulder.

'Good,' he gruffed, as she beamed at him, 'again.'

He wasn't looking at her, so Beth turned back around and lined the gun up of her own. Using all of her concentration, she shot off another bullet, hitting the neck this time. She proceeded to fire all of the rounds, then turned to him again. He looked pleased.

'Tha' was good,' he said, looking down at her. Beth felt as though her body was burning. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly as the adrenaline coursed through her veins, her breathing heavy. She caught Daryl's gaze and saw his brows knit together slightly. Just as she felt the heat between them was at burning point, he dropped her arms and stepped away. The connection was broken. He turned away from her.

'Should we keep practicing?' she said, her voice breathy.

''Nother time,' he said, beginning to walk away.

'Oh,' he heard the disappointment in her voice, but he didn't look back. Instead he headed back towards the prison, shaking out his hands as he did so.

As he stalked away, he inwardly cursed himself for being so stupid. His intentions were entirely innocent but something had sizzled between them just now. They had been close, Daryl could smell her shampoo, feel her breathing against him. It had been so long since he had had any human contact of any kind it had thrown him off guard. Not to mention she was young and undoubtedly impressionable, he couldn't afford to make mistakes here. Not that he had any ideas, a pretty young girl like her would ever look at someone like him – not that he wanted her to, either. Daryl shook his head, running his hands through his hair, feeling like an idiot. He was at least twice her age and well, he was him. There was nothing desirable about him, and that was the way he liked it really. He was most content alone.

Beth watched him go, his head down. She had been proud of herself, proud of her shots. So she was confused as she watched him go... their session had ended prematurely, in her opinion. She wondered if she had offended him, if he had suddenly decided or realised he had made a mistake in engaging her. Maybe she had been so bad with the gun he had given up instantly. Beth glanced down at the gun in her hand.
I'll practice by myself, she thought then I can show him I'm worth teaching.
So she turned back to the board, raising the gun again.

Daryl heard the gunshots as he headed back to the prison. A wave of guilt washed over him. Maybe he had been wrong in walking away. His social skills were not the greatest, and when in doubt he preferred to walk away. He kept walking as another shot punctuated the air.