Daryl opened his eyes, groaning. He hadn't spoken to Beth the day before, she wouldn't see him, and he hadn't wanted to seem weird, so he had left it. But it was affecting him. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her face, her blue eyes looking at him, full of hurt and betrayal. Any sleep he managed to catch was permeated by her cries and his walking away. It was putting him on edge, making him weak.

He lay in his bed, looking up at the bunk above him, wondering how he had ended up in this situation. He had never been affected like this before. It was new and it was confusing as hell.

The room around him was cool and dark, but he was hot and bothered. The thin blanket that lay over him had gotten wrapped up in his legs, so he kicked it free, ignoring the stiff pain in his legs from sleeping in jeans. He didn't believe in ever letting his guard down, although he had succumbed to sleeping without his boots on now, and shirtless. But the jeans stayed on, just in case. He sighed, rubbing his face, his eyes. The bed beneath him groaned as he repositioned himself, attempting to find a comfortable way to lay. It was useless, he sighed, his brain was too wired.

Rick had approached him only a few hours before. He intended to ride out tomorrow, meet with the governor and try to come to an understanding, work out a truce. Daryl thought it was a ridiculous idea.

'He'll leave Rick 'til last so he can watch his family and friends die ugly' Merle had said 'that's the kind of man you're dealing with.'

Daryl didn't think a man like that would agree to any kind of truce, and riding out to speak with him only seemed like trouble to him. But Rick was the boss, and he had agreed to go with him, as back up.

Daryl sat forward, placing his feet on the floor, sighing. He grabbed the pack of cigarettes he had found on one of the walkers earlier and headed out of his room.

The air outside the prison was cold and brisk, but welcoming. It hit the exposed flesh of Daryl's cheeks, knocking the life into him. He stood, his boots planted firmly in the dewy grass, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, on hand wrapped around the lighter he kept there. Looking around himself, he was forced to acknowledge the ground they had lost to the governor as he watched the walkers stumble around in the dark within the fenced perimeter they had called theirs not so long ago. He glanced up to the guard tower which sat in-between both plots of land. He couldn't see anyone in there from where he stood, but he knew at least one person was. There always was.

Taking the cigarette box out and removing one, he held it to his lips, lighting it. His lungs opened gratefully as he inhaled the smoke down, huffing it back out as he dropped the light back into his pocket. He breathed a sigh of relief, the first sigh of relief he had breathed in a long time. His body was tense, his muscles ached. The cigarette balanced between his lips, he took the time to survey his surroundings, glancing up at the stars. They looked weird, twinkling down at such a desolate landscape. Out of place.

Like Beth he thought, breathing out the smoke into the night sky, watching it drift away.

The air was still and calm all around him; only the walkers in the distance moved. The stillness of the night along with the nicotine had helped calm his mind. He chucked the cashed out cigarette onto the floor, crushing it under his boot. He took a deep breath of the cold air, run his hands over his face, then turned back towards the prison.

He wandered slowly through the dark corridors, in no real hurry to get back to bed. Absentmindedly, his feet seemed to take him towards Beth's cell block, which he realised too late. He paused, deliberating. He had obviously subconsciously wanted to see her, but it was the middle of the night.

Slowly, and as silently as he could, he walked to her door, hyper aware of the sound of his footsteps echoing from the cold prison walls. The door was open, but the room beyond was bathed in darkness. He peered in, glancing towards the bunk, where he could make out the soft form of her laying beneath the blankets, breathing gently. The soft light from the corridor fell into the room, dimly illuminating the light curves of her face, falling across her cheekbone. Daryl stood there for a while, his broad frame filling the doorway, then sighed softly, going to turn away.

Beth stirred.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, spotting him. A mixture of shock and fear ran across her ran across her face until recognition clouded it.

Daryl turned away.

He heard the blankets rustle as Beth sat up. She pushed her hair back from her face, rubbing her eyes.

'Daryl,' she called softly, making him turn back.

She was sitting up in bed, her blonde hair unruly from sleep, strands of it falling into her face which was flushed, her eyes looking up at him through a frown as she tried to blink her weariness away. The blankets had fallen down to her waist, pooling in her lap, where her hands now rested.

'What're you doing?' she whispered, frowning.

'Sorry,' he mumbled, 'I was jus' walking.'

Beth looked at him for a while, pursing her lips. She was still upset and angry with him, but seeing him there, bathed in darkness... it did something to her.

'You want to come in?' she said, somewhat begrudgingly.

Daryl looked back at her, chewing the side of his thumb. He appeared to be deliberating, arguing with himself. Eventually, he nodded.

Beth moved up the bed, creating a space for him. As she moved, Daryl noticed she was only wearing a thin tank top and underwear, which caused something to stir within him. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, falling in thick waves which ended in messy curls, knotted from sleep and laying on her bare shoulders. She yawned, pulling the blanket up to her chest. Daryl spotted a bruise just below her collar bone.

'Was that me?' he asked softly, nodding to it.

Beth glanced down, noticing the purple stain to her pale skin.

She nodded.

'I'm sorry,' he said, shaking his head.

'This, too,' she said, holding her arm out to him.

He looked down to see the deep red lines that ran around her arm – an unmistakable hand-print.

Shame washed over him in almost debilitating waves, sickening him to his stomach. He ran his hands down his face, feeling disgraced. His skin crawled with the shame of it, making him feel as though he needed to submerge himself in water and scrub himself clean. He swallowed hard, feeling like the biggest jerk in the world.

'Does it hurt?' he asked.

'It does,' Beth said honestly, stroking the bruised skin, 'yeah.'

'I didn't mean t' hurt ya,' Daryl said sadly, 'I jus' -'

'You lost your temper,' Beth said, looking at him.

'Mm,' he nodded slowly, feeling the tendrils of shame creep up the back of his neck, turning him cold.

'Daryl,' Beth breathed, 'why are you here?'

'Couldn't sleep,' he shrugged. Then he turned his head slightly to look at the girl from the corner of his eye, 'felt too bad.'

'About me?' Beth asked, her stomach somersaulting.

'Mhm,' he nodded.

Beth bit her bottom lip, trying not to smile. He had hurt her, both physically and emotionally, and that was something she was never going to stand for, but he hadn't meant to, and she didn't think he ever would again. He seemed incredibly cut up about it.

Slowly, she moved from under the blankets, making her way towards him on her knees, feeling very aware of how exposed she was. She stopped beside him, falling back to rest on her ankles. She reached up and stroked his face, turning his head to look at her.

'Thank you,' she said softly, 'for saying sorry. Friends?'

Daryl nodded, his eyes on hers.

Beth slowly wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him towards her and into a hug. He sat stiffly for a moment, before melting to her embrace. His own arms ran their way around her, his hand resting in the dip of her waist, just above her hip. Shivers ran up her entire frame, emanating from the placement of his hand. It was warm and firm, lightly pressing into the soft flesh of her waist. She could feel the scratch of his beard against her cheek as she hugged him, could feel the flush in her face.

His thumb was gently stroking the fabric of her top, and she had to try not to squirm. She bit her lip, feeling her breath become heavy. The fabric of her top had moved slightly so that his palm was on her bare skin.

'You smell like smoke,' she whispered, her breath caressing his throat.

'Mmm,' Daryl moved his hand beneath her top, tracing the feel of her light curves until his hand rested on her back within her top. It was more than an innocent gesture, Beth knew that now, and her entire body felt laced with gooseflesh. She felt her breath catch in her throat.

Slowly, Daryl pulled himself back from her, his face a few inches from hers, his eyes looking into her own. They stayed there, watching each other for a moment, until Daryl pulled away, removing his hands from her and breaking the contact. He cleared his throat, getting up and straightening his shirt, not looking at Beth, who stayed sat on her bed, face flushed.

'Better ge' some sleep,' he grunted, nodding to her, but not looking at her.

'Daryl,' Beth said.

'I'll see ya tomorrow,' he said, turning to look at her.

Beth knew whatever had transpired between them just now was over. She nodded to him.

For now she thought.