Maggie and Glen were nearing the end of their shift on guard duty within the tower, the sky having grown dark around them a few hours before, and Maggie was cold. She stood looking out over the grounds, her arms wrapped tightly around her body, waiting for the next person or persons to come and relieve them so she could warm up within the prison – a difficult enough task in itself.
She was entertaining these thoughts when she spotted two figures heading towards the prison from the darkness of the woods beyond. At first, she assumed they were walkers, but she soon realised they walked too quickly, too straight and too close together. Raising her gun and narrowing her eyes to look out over the grounds, she watched as the darkened figures grew larger.
As the figures grew, Maggie understood they belonged to Michonne and Daryl, returning from their hunt. She informed Glen, and once they were near enough, the two of them headed down to open the gates for them.
'Everything okay?' Glen said as Maggie asked 'Did you find him?'
'No,' Michonne informed them, 'but that doesn't mean we wont.'
Glen closed the gates again then returned to the post until his shift was up, while Maggie followed the two weary travellers into the prison. The two of them looked tired and a little dejected, but did not seem injured or any worse for wear. Daryl carried a crate of something in front of him, which Maggie eyed suspiciously as they walked, but she did not ask about its contents. Instead, she left them at the front doors and headed for the cells, where she knew she would find her sister.
Beth was sitting on her bed, idly flicking through a paperback she had found in the prison library. She had hoped it would serve as a distraction from her niggling worries about Daryl, but so far it hadn't really done much. In fact, she wasn't even certain on what the plot-line was.
'Hey,' Maggie's voice drew her away from the lines of text on the page that she thought she had read twice already.
'Your boyfriend's back.' Her sister said with a smirk.
'What?' Beth frowned.
'Daryl. And Michonne. They just got back, just now.' Maggie said.
'So soon?' Beth frowned, finding herself unable to believe they would only be gone one day. But she was already putting her book aside and getting up to follow her sister.
True to Maggie's word, both Daryl and Michonne were in the common room, along with some of the other prison inhabitants who had either already been there or who had congregated to see them return and, undoubtedly, ask them the outcome of their journey.
Beth arrived in time to see Daryl heave a crate up onto one of the tables. She lingered on the outskirts of the room a little, suddenly a little unsure of how to approach the situation. Strangely, she felt oddly insecure in the room of people, wanting nothing more than to rush over to Daryl and hug him, but instead stood back, pulling at the hem of the poncho she was now feeling incredibly hot in.
Rick was speaking.
'He's moved on,' he said, 'must have headed further out. Further away from us. Out of sight, out of mind.'
But Michonne was shaking her head.
'No, he isn't gone. Wont ever be.'
'It doesn't matter, not now,' Rick replied, 'you didn't catch up t'him, he isn't a threat.'
'Oh he'll always be a threat,' Michonne said darkly.
Beth looked at Daryl's face and caught his eye. He offered he a slight smile, his features seeming to soften just for her. Whatever Rick and Michonne were saying no longer mattered.
Slowly, Beth walked over to him.
'You didn't find him?' she asked softly.
'Nah.' Daryl shook his head.
'Did you run in to any trouble?' Beth asked.
Daryl chuckled lightly under his breath, offering her another of his half smiles.
'Nope,' he said, 'I told ya not t'worry 'bout me girl.'
Beth shrugged, blushing a little, but feeling a swell of happiness at the easy way he spoke to her. The awkwardness she had initially felt was unprecedented after all.
'What's in the box?' she asked, standing a little on her tiptoes to peer into the crate, only to see a wooden lid.
Grinning, Daryl removed the lid to reveal a dozen mason jars of clear liquid, a little dusty, some of the liquid still sloshing slightly in their jars from their travels.
'Good ol' moonshine,' he said.
Beth looked up into his face, raising an eyebrow.
'Why?' she asked.
'Sweet nectar of the red-necks,' he said.
Beth chuckled a little at that. She turned back to look sceptically at the jars.
'Why did you bring it – where did you get it?' she asked.
'Twenty-one questions,' Daryl said a little gruffly. 'Some run down piece o' shit shack we checked out on th' way back... di'n seem right leaving it there.'
'Hm,' Beth kept her eyes on the crate.
'Wha's wrong?' Daryl asked then, frowning.
'Nothing,' she said, 'It's just – my daddy always said bad moonshine can make you go blind.'
Daryl shrugged.
'Aint nothin' out there worth seeing no more anyway.' He said.
Beth scowled at his pessimism, but she could not correct him. Not really.
'I don't know why you insisted on bringing that whole crate back with us.' Michonne had rejoined Daryl after having spoken to Rick, and was standing looking at the crate with equal amounts of scepticism as Beth, her arms folded across her chest.
'There aint a great deal of choice when it comes to liquor no more,' Rick said, standing a little behind Michonne.
'What are we celebrating?' Maggie's voice took Beth a little by surprise, her sister having arrived to stand beside her without Beth even noticing. Glen was with her, peering around Maggie and into the box.
'More like drownin' sorrows,' Daryl said, lifting one of the mason jars up out from the box.
'Don't think like that.' Beth said, her voice taking on an air of scolding. 'There's plenty to live for, to celebrate. We got a roof over our head, family – we ain't dead yet.'
Michonne chuckled, lightly nodding her head at Beth in approval.
'I like the way you think, Beth.' Rick smiled as Maggie wrapped an arm around her little sister and pulled her into a tight side hug.
'You're going to keep us all ticking, Beth,' Maggie said, smiling, 'you're like our little glow of sunshine.'
Beth smiled, but wriggled out from her sister's embrace when she felt she could without causing offence. She hadn't been trying to be fluffy, she really did think they still had a lot to live for. Not everything in the world was awful – and Daryl was wrong, she thought, as she watched him unscrew the lid to the jar, there were still things worth seeing. And that half smile he flashed her as he caught her eye was just one of them.
. . .
Beth walked back to the cell block with her father; Hershel Greene had expressed his distaste at the moonshine, but had chosen to take himself off to bed rather than sanction his girls. Beth and Maggie Greene had grown up sensible, he prided himself on that fact, and they were old enough and wise enough to make their own decisions and consequent mistakes. Alcohol was not a friend of his, but he trusted his girls. Beth walked back with him, wanting to make sure he really was okay with her and her sister being around the drink.
'You're sending me to bed? Really?' The tone of incredulity caused Beth to turn around. A little ways behind her Rick and Carl were walking through the corridor, Rick carrying Judith on his hip.
'No, Carl,' Rick sighed, 'I just want you to stay with Judith.'
'No.' Beth could see from where she stood that colour was rising in Carl's face, dark blotches appearing across his cheeks. 'You want me out of the way so you can drink. You're treating me like a kid -'
'You are a kid,' Rick said firmly, 'my kid. No, I don't want you drinking. I'm asking you to take care of Judith, for me, for one night.'
'It's pathetic, the way you treat me, the way you push me around – all of you! Zach is drinking!'
'Zach is twenty-one.' Rick said. 'And he's not my son.'
'Hey,' Hershel called softly, as he stood with his arm around Beth's shoulders, 'cut yer Dad some slack, son. He knows what's best for ya.'
'Why do you need to get involved?' Carl snapped, 'Can anything happen around here without every damn person getting involved?!'
'Hey!' Beth said, stepping out from under her father's arm, 'you don't need to speak to my daddy like that!'
'Oh yeah I need you getting involved,' Carl growled, ignoring his dad's warning of a growled 'Carl.'
'What is that supposed to mean?' Beth snapped, folding her arms across her chest.
'Oh you know,' Carl growled, before turning on his heel and storming off.
Rick looked from Beth to Hershel, an apology forming on his lips, but Hershel shook his head.
'I'm going to get myself to bed,' Hershel said, gently stroking Beth's hair back from her angry face. Sighing, Beth nodded. She leant in and kissed her father's soft cheek.
'Be careful, will you,' he said, smiling through his beard.
'We will, daddy.' Beth smiled. 'Although we don't have to-'
'No, no, go have fun, go live, go relax for a while' Hershel smiled, 'just be good.'
Beth nodded.
. . .
Beth sat with Maggie, Glen, Daryl, Michonne, Carol, Zach and Rick in the common room a little while later, glasses of moonshine on the table in front of them. She sat on the bench in-between Daryl and Maggie, somewhat surprised that her sister was acting so casual around both the moonshine and her and Daryl; yet Maggie Green sat beside her baby sister, adjacent to her own lover, who was inhaling the strong scent of the drink with a scrunched up nose.
'Ed dabbled in making this once,' Carol said, as Daryl leant across to pour some of the liquid from the jar into her currently empty glass. She tilted the glass a little to look down at the liquid within. 'Nasty stuff.' She said.
'You aint gotta drink it,' Daryl said, sitting back.
'Oh I know,' she said, 'but I can't let you have all the fun. Just a little for me, though.'
'Just a little for everyone, I should think,' Rick said, 'we can't afford to lose our sense. And this is potent stuff.'
'Yes sir mister sheriff,' Daryl said, offering Rick a sarcastic salute.
'Where's Carl?' Maggie asked Rick then, having glanced around and noticing he was not there.
Rick chuckled lightly, tilting his glass.
'In the cell block with Judith. There's no way I'm letting him near this stuff.'
'Sulking in the cell block, then.' Glen said.
Rick raised his glass in a tilt to Glen, nodding to him with a smile. Beth felt a pang of sympathy for Carl then, but his attitude towards both herself and her father dilated any sympathy she may have had. If anything, it encouraged her to lift her glass to her lips as the rest of the table fell into idle chatter, the clear liquid within sloshing lightly at the movement. Something seemed to have changed in Carl recently, from the sweet, kind boy who had been a good friend to her, to a sullen, angry child. Beth shook him from her thoughts as she tried not to inhale as she raised the glass, knowing the fumes would smell something akin to nail varnish remover; she sipped from her glass, trying not to taste the lethal stuff, but it made its presence known as it burned its way down her throat. Coughing, she put the glass back down, tears springing to her eyes.
Daryl hit her roughly on the back.
'Y'alright?' he asked.
Beth nodded as she cleared her throat.
Daryl continued to rub her back lightly, his eyes on hers. With his other hand, he moved her glass away from her slightly across the table. As he did this, his sleeve shifted slightly, and Beth spotted her bracelet on his wrist. A rush of love hit her.
'You're still wearing it,' she said, gently running her finger over the little beads.
'Why would I take it off?' Daryl asked, narrowing his eyes slightly from beneath his hair. 'Yer still wearing the poncho.'
'It's warm,' Beth shrugged, but she was grinning.
As she stroked the cool beads of her own bracelet, the backs of her fingers brushed against the cool glass Daryl's hand was still wrapped around.
'I never thought I would touch a drop of this stuff,' she said, her eyes dropping to the glass, 'alcohol in general, I mean, not just this... chemical stuff.'
Daryl smiled at her, his eyes softening the way they only really seemed to do around her. And perhaps Rick.
'Why?' he said.
'Cause of my dad.' Beth shrugged, 'his daddy before him was an alcoholic – so much so we never met him, Maggie and I.'
'Yer dad drank,' Daryl said softly.
'Mhm, but he gave it up once Maggie was born.' Beth told him. 'He never touched it again, not a drop. I guess he didn't trust himself with it.'
'S'a sickness,' Daryl said.
'Mhmm,' Beth was staring at the glass before her.
'Y'don't have to drink it,' Daryl said quietly, 'An' I ain't neither.'
Beth looked up at him then, her bright blue eyes taking in every section of this man's honest face. She smiled.
'I'm not my father,' she said.
'Yer dad's a good man,' Daryl said sincerely.
'Oh, I know,' Beth smiled, 'I know.'
'Least y'got that,' he said quietly, 'm'parents drunk too.'
Beth nodded; Daryl had spoken about his own parents to her before. She knew they were drinkers and she also knew they were abusive.
Beth squeezed Daryl's hand, earning himself a glance from him. He was so strong, but Beth knew him well enough now to know there was still a fair amount of pain beneath the tough exterior. Deep down he was still hurting and losing Merle, no matter how well he had coped with it, had only added to that pain. As Beth watched his own blue eyes, she was overwhelmed by the undeniable feeling within her, the feeling that all she really wanted to do was take some of that pain away from him. In fact, she was starting to feel as if her own happiness could only really flourish if it included his own.
Daryl moved his hand from hers and her glass to pick up his own, which he then brought to his mouth to drink from, taking hearty gulps which Beth watched with weird satisfaction as his throat worked, the movement of his swallowing causing his adam's apple to bounce. Beth licked her lips slightly, her mouth suddenly dry.
'So what do we do about The Governor,' Michonne said, her voice loud enough to cut across Beth's train of thought.
'We worry about that another night,' Rick said, wiping his lips on the back of his hand and putting down his glass.
'I don't think that's wise. I don't think we should leave this.' Michonne said.
'I think she's right, Rick,' Carol said slowly, 'we can't lure ourselves into a false sense of security.'
'No,' Michonne nodded to Carol.
Rick was shaking his head.
'Okay, okay,' Rick said slowly on a sigh, 'but tonight we drink. It's late and it's been a long week... a long year. Couple o' years.'
'We take a night off,' Glen said.
Rick nodded.
'That bastard slipped through our fingers,' Daryl grunted before he took another long swig from his glass. He finished his glass then poured a fresh one from the open mason jar.
'You did what you could,' Beth said, watching him with a slightly timid unease as he drank from his fresh glass.
'We could'a got 'im,' he said, taking a breath after swigging from the glass.
'It doesn't matter,' Beth shook her head.
'It does.' Daryl said. 'He hurt you.'
His face had darkened, and it worried Beth. She watched him for a moment, his blue eyes dark as he stared ahead. Her heart picked up speed as he spoke of The Governor hurting her, but the dark look over his face shadowed it.
She picked up her own glass and, grimacing through the taste, finished it off. The dizzying effects of the alcohol which seemed to slow down time hit her before she had even put the glass back down on the table.
Zach began a coughing fit of his own suddenly. Rick, who was sitting beside him, hit him roughly on the back as he spluttered into his hands.
'Alright?' he said, leaning back to look at him.
Zach nodded.
'Strong,' he spluttered.
'Aint a real man,' Daryl muttered as he rose his glass to his own lips, his eyes lowered.
Beth raised an eyebrow to him, but he made a point of not looking at her. She leant to the side to gently nudge him with her shoulder. He looked down at her then as he put the glass down.
As he looked at her she began to laugh, having to stifle her giggles behind her hands as memories of Daryl lowering her onto the floor of the guard room swam to mind, flushing her cheeks with an intense heat behind the alcoholic fog.
Daryl smiled himself then, looking down into his own glass.
'Be nice,' Beth whispered, grinning up at him.
He sighed, looking away from her, a smile still on his face.
'Okay, that's me,' Carol said, pushing her glass away from her and standing up, 'I'm off to bed.'
'I'll come wi'ya,' Daryl said, leaning back from the table so he could fit his hand into the front pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a crushed pack of cigarettes then stood up. Carol nodded and waited for him. Beth watched him as he got up from beside her, taking his glass with him. He winked down at her once he was stood up, surprising her.
She turned back around to face the table as Maggie elbowed her in the ribs.
'Is it hot in here?' Maggie asked as Beth picked up her glass to drink from. 'You're looking a little red.'
'Shut up.' Beth hissed.
The rest of them remained around the table, but Beth did not drink much more. What she had drunk was coursing through her veins already and her head felt heavier than usual, her eye lids taking longer and longer to reopen whenever she blinked. The atmosphere around the table had steadily grown rowdier, with voices becoming a little louder and the sound of laughter heard more than usual. It was a nice sound, Beth thought, one that was not heard often enough around here.
Maggie was leaning across the table with her head on Glen's shoulder, her own eyes looking heavy. Beth caught her eye as Maggie yawned. She smiled at her little sister then sat herself up.
'I think I'm going to go to bed,' she said, 'been a long day.'
Beth nodded.
'Come on then,' Glen said, gently stroking a strand of hair back behind his wife's ear.
Beth pushed herself up from the table, her head swimming with vertigo.
'I'll come with you, I want to – get changed.' Beth swallowed. She had been about to say she wanted to find Daryl, but with all the eyes around the table on her she suddenly felt like it might not be a good idea.
Maggie looked at her; she nodded without saying anything, but Beth thought she knew what she was about to say.
Glen wrapped an arm around Beth's sister's as they left the room to soft chorus of goodbye's and goodnight's. Beth trailed a little behind them, concentrating on her steps as she walked, her body feeling groggier than usual. As her sister and Glen headed for the cells, Beth went towards the doors to the outside.
'Sleep well,' she said to her sister, 'I'll see you in the morning.'
'Alright,' Maggie said, rolling her eyes.
Beth folded her arms beneath the poncho as she walked, frowning slightly to harness the concentration she needed in order to walk straight. She pushed the doors open gently, shivering as the cold air from the outside hit her face. She squinted as she stepped out into the dark.
'Hey,' she said, stepping out towards Daryl, who she had spotted standing a little further away. He nodded to her once as he blew out a cloud of smoke.
'Y'alright?' he asked in a gruff voice laced with smoke.
'Mhm,' Beth nodded as she walked over to him, 'Just checkin' up on ya.'
'I'm still 'ere,' he said, 'aint done a runna.'
Beth chuckled.
'Wha's up?' he asked, bringing the cigarette back to his lips and taking a long drag, his strong eyes on hers, intense behind his hair and through the light cloud of smoke that haloed him.
'Nothing,' Beth shook her head.
'D'ya miss me?' he asked, his mouth hitching up into his lopsided half smile Beth found hard to deal with.
'What, in those five minutes you were gone?' Beth grinned.
'Yeah,' Daryl leant his head back and blew the smoke out into the sky above, 'nah last coupl'a days.'
'Yeah,' Beth said softly, stepping closer to him. She gently placed her hands on his waist, sneaking them beneath his jacket. 'I did actually.'
Daryl smiled down at her, chucking his cashed out cigarette onto the floor beside them.
Beth stood up on her tip toes to kiss his lips, the first time she had since they had left the housing apartment. It felt right, to her, for their lips to be together again, for her breath to mingle with his, the soft scratch of his stubble against her skin, the taste of the smoke on his breath.
Daryl pushed her hair back from her face, his hand trailing down her cheek to cup her chin.
'I'm back now,' he said.
Beth nodded, smiling.
'You coming in?' she asked.
'Yeah,' he said, dropping his hand, 'y'cold?'
'Mhm,' Beth nodded.
Daryl draped his arm around her shoulders in a similar way to how Glen had with Maggie before, and together they walked back into the light of the prison. Without discussing anything aloud, the two of them forsook the common room, instead heading for the cell block, where a sleepy atmosphere of quiet solitude seemed to resonate.
They wandered to Beth's own cell, where she walked in and sat on her bed, kicking off her boots. Daryl hung back in her doorway, leaning against the doorframe.
'Wha's this?' he asked, as he placed his glass of moonshine down on the bedside cabinet.
'My diary.' Beth said, biting her bottom lip.
'D'ya write about me in it?' he asked, looking at her through his hair.
Beth chuckled.
'Sometimes.' She said.
Daryl chucked it back down and came to sit beside her on the bed, leaning his head back on the wall behind them and closing his eyes.
Beth caressed the back of his hand as it lay on the blanket between them. Absent-mindedly, he turned his hand around so his palm faced upwards, and Beth gently traced over the lines of his rough palm, smiling. Her head was heavy and foggy and her vision was swimming slightly, but she was happy, she knew that.
She moved her hand up to play with the beads of her bracelet on his wrist.
'I love that you're still wearing this,' she said.
He opened his eyes a fraction to look at her.
Beth stroked his skin, her fingers running over the small tattoo on his wrist. Daryl watched her for a while, silently enjoying the skin to skin contact, drowsiness slowly descending on him.
'How many tattoo's do you have?' Beth asked.
Daryl cleared his throat, squinting slightly.
'Uh, eight.' He said, turning his hand back over so Beth could see the little star on his hand.
'Do they mean anything?' she asked.
Daryl shrugged.
'Not really.'
He watched her for a while, the blue of her eyes hidden from him, her long lashes brushing against her cheek bones as she looked down.
'Did ya ever want any?' He asked.
'Huh?' Beth looked up at him. 'Oh, no, not really.' She smiled.
Daryl nodded.
'But I guess I never thought about anything like this back before... I guess I was a different person then.'
'So if y'were who ya are now back before this shit storm, y'd'a got one?' Daryl chuckled, watching her.
Beth laughed.
'Maybe,' she shrugged.
'These ones,' Daryl said, taking his hand from hers and holding his arm up, 'Merle done.'
'Merle was … a tattoo...ist?' Beth frowned.
'Nah,' Daryl shook his head, 'but he had ink and a needle.'
Beth grimaced.
'Does it hurt?' she asked.
Daryl shrugged.
'A little.' He admitted.
Beth turned her own hands over in her lap, her somewhat drunken mind thinking things over, slowly, like someone in pain turning the heavy pages of a fragile book.
'Can you do it?' She asked.
'Do what?' Daryl frowned.
'Tattoo.' She said.
Daryl shrugged.
'Dunno,' he said, 'I never tried. Probably.'
'Could you do one on me?' Beth asked, biting her lower lip.
'Yeah,' Daryl said, then he tilted his head to look at her, 'y'mean – can I?'
'Yeah,' Beth shrugged, beginning to grin, 'yeah why not?'
'Because yer – yer pure,' he said.
'Not any more,' Beth said, her tone low.
Colour seemed to creep up Daryl's neck to his cheeks, and Beth saw him physically swallow.
Beth moved along the bed until she was closer to him, feeling his body heat radiate from him. The alcohol in her system had given her an odd sense of confidence.
'A little something – tiny,' she said, her voice low as she sidled up to him, 'here, the same as yours.' She pointed to her wrist.
Daryl shook his head, laughing.
'Yer crazy.' He said softly.
'Crazy 'bout you,' She said in a sing-song voice, kissing his stubbly cheek.
Daryl laughed, but he pushed himself forward and grabbed her pen up from where it lay beside her diary.
'Y'got a needle?' he said gruffly.
'I do, actually.' Beth grinned, jumping up from the bed. Her head swam and she had to stop for a moment to steady herself, blinking heavily. Once her vision had stopped spinning, she moved to her desk and opened the top drawer where her needle and thread lay, used only recently to sow up a patch in her jeans.
She handed it to Daryl, who had smashed her fountain pen against the edge of the cabinet, splitting the cartridge within it. Daryl took the needle from her and drew his lighter from his pocket, flicking it open. Beth sat back down next to him and watched as the flame flickered to light. He wrapped his sleeve around his fingers and held the needle into the flame, holding it steady until it began to glow.
'What d'ya want?' Daryl asked.
'I don't know,' Beth admitted, feeling stupid. 'Do me a bow.'
'A bow?' Daryl said.
'From your cross bow,' she said, biting her lip and looking up at him with her wide, honest blue eyes, 'but give it an arrow head.'
Daryl looked at her, his eyes searching hers.
'Y'sure?' he asked.
Beth nodded.
'Draw it on,' Daryl said.
'With what?' Beth asked, looking around. She picked up the broken pen, detaching the nib which held remnants of the ink.
'Disinfect it first.' Daryl said.
'Huh?' Beth blinked.
'Here,' he grabbed the glass of moonshine and handed it to her. 'Rub that on y'skin.'
Beth nodded, pouring a little bit of it onto her wrist, rubbing it in. Gingerly, she brought the nib to her wrist and raggedly drew a little arrow lengthways on her wrist, pointing up, no longer than two inches inch.
'Ready?' Daryl asked. Beth nodded. She bit her lip, hard. Slowly, Daryl dipped the burning needle into the ink, taking Beth's hand in a grip so softly it didn't seem to come from the bulky man sitting beside her.
Gently, Daryl moved the needle to the small drawing she had done.
'Ready?' he asked again. Beth nodded. She narrowed her eyes, but kept watch as Daryl put the hot needle to her skin, then took a deep, sharp intake of breath as he pushed, puncturing her skin.
'Ow!' she gasped, as the black ink seeped into her skin. Daryl repeated the process, stopping occasionally to dip the needle back in to the ink, all along the line of the arrow, poking tiny holes into her skin until they all joined up. Each prick felt different; some Beth could hardly feel, whilst others made her cry out loud. Her skin had began to flush a deep red all around the line, tiny droplets of blood ballooning to the surface of her skin. With one of his bandanna's, Daryl wiped away the excess ink and blood, pressing down hard as he did so. Beth bit down on her lip, her skin feeling hot and flushed.
With precision but with enough speed to not prolong her pain, Daryl finished off the tiny tattoo, wiping it clean after.
'Tha's a real prison tat,' Daryl said in a low voice.
Beth twisted her sore wrist back and forth, admiring the tiny arrow that now sat permanently on her skin. The lines bled a little, but all in all, it was a job well done.
'Thank you,' she breathed.
Daryl shook his head.
'Yer sister sure ain't gon' thank me,' he said.
'Forget Maggie,' Beth whispered, leaning forward to kiss Daryl, pressing her lips firmly to his. He kissed her back, entangling one of his hands in her hair.
'Keep it clean,' Daryl said.
'Yes sir,' Beth smiled, leaning towards him on her knees, 'if you kiss me.'
Daryl laughed, shaking his head, but he pulled her towards him all the same, kissing her roughly until she moved herself to straddle his lap, her breathing heavy.
'I missed you,' she breathed, leaning back to look into his eyes.
'I missed y'too,' he said roughly, running his hands down through her hair.
Smiling, her brain foggy with the alcohol, Beth moved back in to kiss him, their bodies pressing close to one another.
'We should get back t'the others,' Daryl said after a while, his hands slowly running down the length of her body.
'Do we have to?' Beth asked quietly.
'Yeah,' Daryl breathed, 'y'dad's sleepin' jus' up the hall.'
Beth bit her lip and nodded, acknowledging the sense of what he was saying. Reluctantly, she took herself from him, and together they returned to the common room. The next couple of hours in which they spent with the others, Beth kept her now throbbing wrist below the table, but she found it harder and harder to keep her hands from Daryl as he sat beside her. Eventually, she decided to take herself to bed, thinking it safer than putting herself into a compromising position, the alcohol whispering away in her ear and the heat of Daryl's body beside her. Her desires had been sated, so she had thought, but being with him once only served to show her what she had been missing, and instead of feeling satisfied, she only felt the need to be with him grow. She thought she could understand her father's dependence on alcohol now, for she was pretty sure she was addicted to Daryl Dixon.