rosie, how can i persuade?

…Beth was eleven, and she always played all over the farm. Momma always told her to stay within sight, but sometimes Momma would go inside to start dinner or Daddy would call her to the barn, and then Beth could wander off a little farther and play by the stables or even out by the other barns.

It always smelled like poop. And she was used to the smell of poop – manure was a part of life when you lived on a farm. She'd cleaned up after the horses and she'd helped out in some of the fields. Poop was nothing new to Beth Greene.

But this smell was stronger – a lot stronger than anywhere else on the farm. She didn't know why it was so strong all of a sudden. Or had she just never noticed?

As she wandered closer to one of the outer barns, the smell overtook her. She was covering her nose but she wasn't stopping. She never got to play out here anymore. She wanted to know what the big fuss was about.

And then she could hear Maggie's voice, and she stopped in her tracks.

"Beth!"

She turned around and saw her big sister jogging toward her. She was wearing dirty farming clothes and an old baseball cap, and the closer she got to Beth, the angrier she looked.

"What're you doin' out here?! Where's Mom?" Maggie scolded when she reached Beth.

Beth didn't even try to argue when her big sister grabbed her by the arm and hauled her back to the house, where her Momma was standing on the porch with a very disappointed look on her face.

…Beth was fourteen, and she loved riding horses. Her daddy owned several, but she had a few particular favorites. And for her birthday, he'd officially given her one of her own. She was a black-and-white Appaloosa, only a few years old and as sweet as could be, and she got a stall in the stable right next to all of Daddy's most beloved horses.

When her daddy had handed her the reins, he'd said, "Now, Bethy, this horse here is all yours. She's just as smart, tough, loving, and kind as you are – that's why I picked her for ya. But she's not just a horse. She's a responsibility, and she's family. If you take care of her and love her and treat her right, she'll love you right back, and she'll know that you're her family. But she's going to be your responsibility. Do you understand?"

Beth had nodded, a grin so wide on her face that it made her cheeks hurt.

She didn't mind scooping up Princess's poop, or brushing her mane (actually, that was her favorite part). She didn't even mind helping her daddy change Princess's shoes, or getting up extra early every day before school to make sure Princess was fed. It was all worth it when they were riding together.

Beth loved riding her horse more than anything. It only took a couple of weeks before they were so in sync, Princess could almost sense Beth's commands before she'd made them. They rode all around the farm. But not too far.

Until Beth went farther one day. She didn't know why – she was feeling a little rebellious after an argument with her momma that morning, and when Princess started trotting off so far that the smell of sulfur was filling Beth's nostrils, she didn't stop her.

Maggie didn't come around this time. Momma was in the house, assured that she didn't have to watch Beth as closely these days. And as Princess's hooves trotted along the ground and took Beth so close to the barn that her nose was burning from the smell, she realized she was close enough to hear the door opening.

Beth gave a stern tug on the reins and the horse halted with a slight toss of her head. She wanted to run, or trot farther out, and Beth didn't blame her. Especially when she saw her Daddy emerging from the barn.

He was dressed in something she'd only caught a glance of once or twice before – during moments when she was sneaking around somewhere she wasn't supposed to be. It was all white and looked like it was made of plastic. There was a cap covering her daddy's head and hair, and he pulled off what looked like a surgeon's mask that had been covering his mouth and nose. Then he slid the thick, plastic safety glasses off his eyes.

"Bethany, just what exactly do you think you're doin' out here?!" Her daddy's voice was angry and growing angrier by the second, and he only used her full name when she was in deep trouble.

Beth didn't get to take Princess out for a month after that. She never went out farther than the stables again, not even when Momma and Daddy weren't looking.

…Beth was standing on the Greene Farm. She didn't know how. Her long, blonde hair was gone. She was wearing the boots she'd bought in Washington, D.C. The necklace with her momma's ring was hanging from her neck. She wasn't young and naïve, she wasn't the Beth that had lived on the farm.

Yet here she was. On the farm.

The smell of sulfur filled her nose. It burned her eyes until they started watering.

Then she rubbed her eyes because they were stinging, and when she opened them, the farm was on fire.

Literally.

Every barn, every stable, every shed and shack. The farmhouse was the brightest of them all as both stories slowly crumbled to ash beneath a red blaze. Black smoke billowed from the windows and clouded the sky, and the smell of sulfur was only getting more intense.

Beth thought she might suffocate on her own breath.

But then she felt someone grab her hand, and she looked over, blinking away tears and smoke. She could feel fresh air in her lungs even though she could only see smoke.

It was Daryl. He held her small hand in his large palm, giving her a knowing smile. She almost didn't recognize him because of how calm and collected he was.

She had questions, but her mouth wouldn't work. She didn't know why.

Then she turned her head and looked back at the burning farmhouse, and she didn't blink or turn away as the second story began to collapse in, and the sound of crackling flames and crumbling wood echoed out into the night.

The blaze rose and rose, reaching higher and higher for the sky until there was nothing but smoke and fire. Beth suddenly couldn't remember if there'd ever actually been a sky.

And when she turned back to glance at Daryl, whose hand was warm around hers, she found him to still be smiling while he watched everything burn to ashes. Then he turned his head and looked at her.

"C'mon," he said, but his voice was loud and clear to her, even amongst all the noise.

He motioned for her to follow him and turned his back toward her, pulling her along with him as they began walking through the thick, black smoke.

Beth didn't ask where they were going. She didn't let go of his hand either.

All she could see through the endless clouds of smoke was the faint sight of the back of his head, his shaggy, dark hair – and the glowing, white angel wings embroidered on the back of his black vest.

Beth slowly drifted into consciousness, though for a few seconds, she still felt like it was difficult to breathe – as if there'd actually been smoke in her lungs. But it quickly subsided and then she could feel nothing except nausea.

She writhed in the bed, eyes still closed as her stomach churned painfully and bile rose in the back of her throat. When she opened her eyes, she was faced with the recollection of the night before. Not only did the sheets smell like Daryl, but she remembered that it was also his bed. And when she lifted her head and glanced around, she saw that he wasn't there. And she was still sleeping in nothing but her panties.

He was here, right? She thought to herself, still foggy from sleep and unsure of what had been a dream and what had been reality.

Before she could contemplate any farther, though, she felt her mouth watering and quickly jumped out of bed to rush out of the bedroom – Daryl's bedroom – and into the bathroom. She reached the toilet and leaned down on her knees to bend over the toilet and retch.

After several minutes of heaving and being forced to look at the remnants of her sandwich from the night before, Beth cleaned up and washed her face, then vigorously brushed her teeth. She went to the kitchen and got a bottle of water, then headed straight back to Daryl's bedroom and put on the clothes that she'd stripped off the night before.

But she wasn't returning to bed. She glanced around the bedroom for any signs of Daryl or where he'd gone. His phone was gone, as were his boots – but not his work boots, just his everyday boots. The clock read 10:46 and Beth had to do a double-take when she realized the framed photo on his bedside table was turned over.

She wondered whether it had been accidentally knocked over or purposefully placed face-down.

Then she spotted something out-of-place amongst the black sheets and pillows on the bed. Beth crawled up onto the bed and got closer to find that it was a piece of paper, which she pulled from between a pillow and a corner of the sheet. It looked like it had been left on the pillow, but Beth had writhed around in her sleep and brushed it aside amongst the bedding, so she hadn't seen it at first glance.

It was a paper from the pad on the bar in the kitchen, and Beth immediately recognized Daryl's handwriting. It read:

Rosie,
You were tossing and turning a lot so I didn't want to wake you. Took the kid for a father-son day. Museums n parks n shit. Promised him, couldn't back out. Won't be back till bed time.
See you then.
-D

At first, she was a little hurt that he didn't wake her. But then she thought about it and understood that it was probably for the better.

She wasn't entirely sure she was ready to face him in the light again, anyway. The dark bedroom had made her feel a sort of confidence that she definitely wasn't feeling this morning.

Beth folded the note up and tucked it into the pocket of her pants. Then she took her bottle of water and went to her own bedroom, where she plopped down in her cold, undisturbed bed and grabbed her phone from the nightstand. Her clothes and hair still smelled like Daryl and his bed.

There was a text from Clementine asking if Beth and Daryl had gotten home okay, as well as a text from Tara saying thanks for coming and sorry for passing out early. There was also a text from Rosita with more thanks and another apology for her "shitty taste in guys."

Beth smiled to herself and replied to Clem to assure they'd made it home perfectly fine, then she thanked Tara for having them and told her she'd missed a great punch. And finally, she replied to Rosita to assure her that it wasn't her fault at all, and also to express how badly she felt that Rosita's birthday had been a little screwed up – but that Beth had had a blast regardless.

As was routine, Beth moved on to checking the news sites and scrolling through pages of headlines. She scrolled and skimmed and double-checked. But it was Sunday, and there were other things the news felt like reporting on. When it came to the national outlets, it was all politics, and Beth felt very confident that her story wouldn't pop up today. Or at least, not before dinner.

Her stomach was still iffy and she remained in bed for another fifteen minutes. Her hand slipped beneath the pillow and wrapped around the pocket watch, holding it until it was as warm as her palm. The rhythmic ticking eased her, and she had the urge to look at the photo in her bag. But for the moment, she was feeling too lazy to get up and dig it out.

She also knew it wouldn't make her feel any better – only worse. Somehow, seeing the farm burning down in her dream had felt better than seeing a photo of it from years ago, or photos on the internet of its current state.

When she finally admitted that she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, she gave in and got up, heading to the kitchen. She made a piece of toast and chose to skip the coffee. Then she took her toast and water to the couch, where she plopped down and turned on the TV.

Her mind kept wandering to images from the night before. But every time it did, Beth felt a cold tingle in the pit of her stomach, and then she would have to try to think about something else.

She got up and opened the window, which Daryl had closed while Beth was sleeping. The sun was out and there were still some clouds in the sky, but the air was continuing to get noticeably chillier during the day, and there were still several patches of fog lingering about the streets. Nonetheless, she breathed in the fresh air and hoped it would help to clear her head while she finished eating.

The toast went down and seemed to be settling fine. Beth relaxed into the cushions of the couch as she surfed through the channels, and then she stopped when a church service appeared on the screen. Her finger hovered over the button on the remote, but she was fixated on the screen as an older man stood at a podium and spoke to a large church filled with all kinds of different people. There were crosses and tapestries all around the large room, and his voice reminded her of her daddy's.

After a few minutes, she set the remote aside and curled up, clutching a pillow against her chest with one hand while the other fidgeted with the cross around her neck. Her eyes were focused on the screen of the TV, and for the first time all morning, she wasn't thinking about Daryl or the news at all. Instead, she was remembering Sunday mornings spent in church, watching her daddy preach and holding her momma's hand.

Before long, the nausea and cold tingles were completely out of her mind. But now, she couldn't shake the image of her daddy in handcuffs.

Beth watched the televised church service for well over an hour before she was disturbed. There was a knock at the door, and at first, she expected Daryl to walk in. But then another knock came and she got up to cross the living room and peer through the peephole.

It was Carol. Beth unlocked and opened the door without giving a second thought to her current appearance – which was probably exhausted and sick. And understandably, Carol's face grew a bit concerned when she looked Beth up and down. But she smiled nonetheless, and Beth saw the covered plate she was holding in her hands.

"Oh – mornin'," Beth greeted, her voice a bit raspy.

"Afternoon," Carol smiled. "You feeling okay?"

Beth nodded and gave the older woman a reassuring smile. "Yeah, jus' tired."

"Oh, long night?" Carol asked. "I heard the party got pretty… interesting."

I wonder who told her first – Daryl, Tara, or Clem, Beth thought.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," Beth muttered, her smile fading.

Carol shrugged. "It happens. I'm just glad he didn't cause any serious damage. I didn't hear, ya know – the whole thing. But if you wanna talk – "

Beth shook her head quickly, then put on a polite smile. "Oh – no, that's okay. It wasn't a big deal, really. I'm fine and everybody's okay… Thanks, though. I appreciate it…"

I still can't figure out if she's trying to find out more about me or just trying to practice her counseling, Beth thought.

Carol nodded and glanced away for a second, then held out the plate. "Well, I know Daryl and Malachi are gone for the day, and I don't know if you're hungover, but even if you aren't, I think these will help your stomach. And they taste pretty darn good – if I do say so myself... And I do."

Beth raised her eyebrows and took the plate carefully, lifting a bit of the foil to peer underneath and take a whiff of the familiar smell. "Oh, are these – "

"Gingersnaps," Carol smiled proudly. "My great-grandmother's secret recipe. The women in my family have been eatin' 'em for generations."

"Wow, thank you," Beth smiled, meeting Carol's eyes again and finding the older woman to be studying her.

"You sure you're feeling okay?" Carol asked, furrowing her brow.

Beth gave her a quizzical look. "Yeah, I didn't even drink last night. Just… didn't sleep very well."

Carol nodded slowly but still appeared to be studying Beth's face. "Alright… well, I'm not totally sure why, but Daryl texted me earlier and asked me to check on you this afternoon. So, I thought… I dunno. Maybe somethin' happened."

Beth furrowed her brow and bit down on her bottom lip thoughtfully for just a second, then said, "Huh. Not sure why he didn't just text me an' ask…"

"You – been talkin' about leaving or something?" Carol asked, and at first, Beth was confused how that had anything to do with the subject at hand. But then it clicked in her head and she understood what Carol was thinking.

She was also beginning to understand what might've been going on in Daryl's head. But would he actually think she'd just pick up and leave while he was gone, without a word? It still didn't explain to her why he wouldn't just text her himself, or give her a thirty-second phone call, for Christ's sake.

Beth shook her head. "No, actually… well, I kinda talked about stayin' fer… a few months. For now, at least."

Her conversation with Daryl at the dinner table was replaying in her mind, and she was reanalyzing his facial expressions and trying to put the pieces together.

"That's good," Carol said, and she smiled encouragingly. "That's really good. I think that'll be – a great thing for you. And I think it'll be helpful for Daryl, too."

Beth gave a tight-lipped smile but she was low-key analyzing Carol and trying to figure out what intentions were hidden behind her words.

When neither of them had said anything for a few seconds, Carol let out a soft sigh and said, "Well, if you're sure you're okay, I'll leave you be. Get some rest. Oh – and you're comin' to class next week, right?"

Without hesitation, Beth nodded. "Yeah, why?"

Carol smiled a bit and Beth noticed her cheeks growing pink. "Well, I'm bringin' a friend next week. Finally convinced him to give it a try, him and his daughter. She's around Sophia's age. I wanted you guys t'meet him."

Beth raised her eyebrows, her interest suddenly piqued as she recalled the man Clem had been telling her about. She wondered if this "friend" was one in the same.

"Oh, really?" She asked. "How d'you know him?"

She really wanted to ask, Is he a cop? Some sort of law enforcement or federal agent, maybe?

Carol's smile became more sheepish and she shrugged, explaining briefly, "Uh – Sophia's therapist. He takes his daughter to the same one. We met in the office. I think he's… ah, ya know, I don't know him well enough to say, but I get the feeling he's kinda… like us."

Beth's confusion showed on her face. "Us?"

Carol nodded, "You, Daryl, me… You know, how we're… similar. Lonely, but won't admit it."

Beth's nails scratched at the edge of the foil that covered the plate in her hands. "Oh… yeah, I s'pose."

Didn't realize we were just saying it out loud like that, she thought, with a hint of resentment.

Carol shrugged again and Beth realized she looked almost giddy while talking about this new friend.

"What's his name?" Beth asked, trying to divert the conversation.

"Tobin," Carol smiled. "Don't worry, you guys will like him. He's… nice. Really nice."

Beth smirked and watched Carol chuckle nervously before she glanced back at her apartment door.

"Well, I'd better get back before Sophia cleans off the other batch I made," she said, gesturing to the plate in Beth's hands. "If you need anything while Daryl's gone, just gimme a holler, alright?"

Beth nodded. "Will do. Thank you."

When she returned to the couch with her second gingersnap in hand, Beth picked up her phone and searched it for any signs of another text from Daryl. But there weren't any, and even though her finger was hovering over the New Message button, she resisted and chose not to bother him.

Besides, if he'd wanted to talk to her, he wouldn't have left a brief note to tell her he'd be gone all day. See you then, he'd said.

When the church services on TV had ended and Beth had finished about five gingersnaps, she got up and made herself some tea just for the sake of the caffeine. Then she headed to the bathroom and ran a hot, bubbly bath. Her stomach was feeling exceptionally better and she was feeling particularly grateful for Carol's thoughtfulness.

Beth stripped off her clothes and pressed her nose to the skin of her shoulder, breathing in the lingering remnants of Daryl's scent one last time. Then she carefully stepped into the bath and submerged herself in soapy water. She sighed deeply in relief, her muscles relaxing against the hot water. Before long, the entire bathroom smelled like fruity bubble bath and Beth could no longer smell anything that reminded her of the night before. Her hair lay wet and limp, the curls washed out completely.

She didn't stay in the bath nearly as long as she normally did. Every time her body would relax and her mind would start to wander, it would always go right back to the night before. Those cold chills tingled in her gut again, and she splashed more water onto her face. But then she gave up and pulled the drain, stepping out and focusing on drying herself and brushing the tangles out of her hair.

After slipping on some clean clothes, she grabbed her mug of tea and went back to the living room. She turned off the TV and sat down in front of the bookcase, looking over the titles for the hundredth time. The distant sounds of the city drifted in through the open window and played like background noise. Beth reached out and grabbed the old, tattered Bible that sat tucked away on the bottom shelf.

She tucked the thick book under her arm and headed to her bedroom, where she sat her tea down on the bedside table. Then she got comfortable on the bed and opened up the old Bible, blowing away small bits of dust. She glanced inside the cover and noticed an old, faded inscription in cursive handwriting. It read: "For Lucy. Love, Grandma." She thought of the blonde woman holding baby Malachi and standing next to Daryl and tried to imagine Daryl addressing her as "Lucy."

Beth gently turned the pages and flipped through to find her favorite verses and stories. The paper was thin and aged, and several pages were creased from being dog-eared. But before long, Beth wasn't thinking about who the Bible had belonged to, nor was she stuck on the images from last night. Instead, she was comforted. And when she heard her daddy's voice in her head as he preached these familiar old words, she felt a swelling of hope in her chest.

The crucifix hanging on the bedroom wall didn't feel quite as haunting right now. Beth glanced over at it, but the hopefulness didn't flee. She returned to the pages of the old book, silently thanking God for how far He'd brought her and how many miracles He'd blessed her with.

At the same time, she felt partially owed credit for doing her own part.

Beth hadn't realized she'd fallen asleep. She hadn't even intended to let her eyelids stay closed when they'd begun to get heavy. But then she was waking up to a dark and quiet apartment, open Bible resting on her chest. The clock read 7:04.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Beth set the thick book down on the nightstand before reaching over and turning on the lamp. Then she grabbed her phone, checking for notifications but only finding a text from Clementine. She set the phone aside, intending to read the message later, and got out of bed. She knew Daryl and Malachi would be home any minute, and just before drifting off, she'd told herself that she would get up and make dinner in time for the boys' arrival.

The apartment had gotten considerably chillier since the sun had gone down and the evening air was circulating through. Beth switched on the kitchen light before wandering over to the window and closing it a bit, allowing only a small opening for fresh air to enter. She saw the fog had mostly cleared in the streets, but there were still plenty of clouds moving across the dark sky and Beth could smell ocean air drifting in from a few miles away.

She turned on the TV to one of the stations that played music like a radio station. When she settled on an Indie/Alternative station, she went back to the kitchen and began pulling out pots and pans and other various dishes to prepare dinner. The TV was just loud enough to be heard from the kitchen, and she sang along quietly to some of the songs she recognized while walking back and forth between the fridge, cabinets, and counter.

About an hour passed, during which Beth was lost in her own little world while she prepared dinner and sang along to music. She hadn't noticed how much time had gone by until she heard the door unlocking and opening, followed by Malachi's voice.

The apartment was filled with the smell of stir fry by now, and Beth peeked across the bar at the boys with a smile on her face. She felt giddy and she didn't know why. Then Daryl turned and they locked eyes for the first time since it had been just them in the dark bedroom – sans clothes – and she knew exactly why.

"Rosie!" Malachi called out happily, turning around and spotting Beth over the bar. Daryl took his jacket and let him loose to run around and into the kitchen, where he immediately dashed to Beth.

Surprised, Beth turned around to find the toddler colliding with her legs, wrapping his arms around her enthusiastically. "Rosie! I – I went to the um, we went um, we went to – uh, we went – "

"We went ta the park a-a-and the museum, an' another park," Daryl finished for his son, hanging up his jacket and walking over to stand on the threshold of the kitchen. "Which one ya tellin' her about?"

Malachi glanced back at his dad, then looked up at Beth again, and she saw the exhaustion in his small face. But he spoke with excitement regardless. "Um, yeah, we – um, I saw dinosaurs! And-and we saw bugs. Oh-oh my, oh gosh, we saw this beetle and…"

Beth couldn't help but grin as she listened to the small boy's long, drawn-out story, nodding along to his enthusiasm and asking him questions about what he saw. Daryl stood back and watched, arms crossed as he leaned against the edge of the bar and smirked at the sight of his son.

"…oh, and um, and the-the swings, um, at the park – "

"Alright, bud, I think it's time fer bed," Daryl announced, bringing the story to an end. "You can tell her more about it tomorrow."

Malachi sighed dramatically, causing Beth to giggle and cover her mouth. She glanced at Daryl to see that he was still smirking.

"You guys don't want dinner?" She asked, gesturing to the stir fry behind her that was nearly finished cooking.

"He had Mickey D's a little bit ago," Daryl answered, patting Malachi on the head. "But yeah – I'll eat. Lemme wash up an' put the kid ta bed."

Beth nodded, then bent down to get a tight neck hug from Malachi and bid him goodnight. She watched him follow his dad down the hallway before turning back to the pan on the stove.

"Hey."

She turned around, surprised to see Daryl peeking around the corner of the hall. She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"Thanks," he said, and she nodded, but gave him a questioning gaze. So he quickly added, "Fer… cookin'."

He disappeared back down the hall before she could open her mouth to ask him if that's really what he meant.

Beth had already set out both plates of food, along with drinks, on the table by the time Daryl joined her. He had changed into pajama pants and a sleeveless shirt, and Beth was already beginning to eat when he sat down across from her. Halfway through cooking, her stomach had randomly started rumbling and she'd quickly become ravenously hungry. She knew it was rude, but she couldn't wait for him before she started digging into her plateful of food.

Daryl sat down in silence and only met Beth's eyes for a second to give her a small smile, then he was staring down at his food and hungrily starting in on it. Beth didn't mind as she shoveled forkful after forkful into her mouth, although she was watching him from her peripherals. She couldn't see his eyes through his shaggy hair, though.

"Sounds like you had an excitin' day," she finally said in between bites, still staring down at her plate.

He grunted in response and she could hear him chewing his food. Then he said, "Yeah, very. Had some time ta think, though. An' the kid got worn out, so he'll sleep good."

Beth wanted to ask what he had to think about, but she wasn't feeling quite that bold tonight. "Oh, yeah…"

She thought about bringing up the night before, but every time the words began to form in her mouth, her stomach would start churning and she'd decide against it. It didn't feel like the right time, but she didn't know how to get back to the level of comfortability they'd reached. The table between them suddenly felt like an impenetrable wall.

The silence was almost worse, though, so she said, "Carol stopped by. Left some cookies – gingersnaps. If you an' Malachi want 'em."

Daryl shrugged, still looking down at his plate. "I'm good. An' Mal's allergic, so don't let him have none. Think she made those fer you."

Beth looked up and stared at Daryl with surprise until he lifted his head to meet her gaze. "Allergic?"

He nodded. "Ginger. Can't have it. That an' most citrus fruits, that we know of. An' shellfish. An' he can't have those fruit snack things 'cause they got some kinda artificial dye that he's allergic to. Ain't just the kinda allergy that gives him the runs neither – it's the kinda shit I gotta have an EpiPen on hand for."

Beth listened with wide eyes. "Wow. I had no idea… Glad you told me now."

"Sorry, didn't think ta mention it," he explained. "Didn't really think ya'd need ta know."

She shrugged. "Yeah, but I cook sometimes, so…"

"Ain't gotta cook fer us," he said. "Me an' the boy, I mean."

Beth furrowed her brow. "I know. I don't do it 'cause I feel like I gotta."

She thought she saw a smile tug at the corners of his lips for a second. She looked back down at her plate, taking a small bite and waiting to see if Daryl would speak again, or change the subject.

A knot was building in her stomach, though, and her appetite was disappearing. There was something she'd wanted to ask him all day. She kept reforming the same sentence in her mind for several seconds before she decided to say it aloud.

"So, uh – did you ask Carol to come check on me, or…?"

She stared down at her plate and waited to hear his voice, but when she didn't, she lifted her head slowly and found him watching her thoughtfully, chewing. He finished and swallowed the bite before he answered casually.

"S'pose so."

This wasn't the answer she was expecting. "Why?"

He shrugged and continued scraping up the last of the stir fry onto his fork as he spoke, "Dunno. Jus'… didn't wanna bother ya. But I wanted ta know if you'd still be here when I got back."

She furrowed her brow again and stared at him, but he was focusing on getting the last bits of food into his mouth. "Well… where would I have gone?"

He shrugged again, and she saw his eyes flick up to hers briefly, but he continued chewing slowly and staring at the fork in his hand. Then he took a sip of his drink and muttered, "Couldn't tell ya. Jus' figured it was fifty-fifty whether ya'd leave or stay."

"You think I'd leave? Even after we talked about it… last night?" Beth asked.

Daryl cleared his throat and chewed on the inside of his cheek, still fiddling with the fork in his hand. "Yeah, but then we…"

She raised her eyebrows and watched him hesitate with parted lips, meeting her eyes before he finished quietly, "…ya know."

She swallowed hard and nodded, but didn't know what to say. All those questions she'd had were a distant memory now and she couldn't remember a single one. Daryl wasn't looking away from her this time, and she chewed on her bottom lip, unable to pull her eyes away from his.

Then he was sitting up straight and putting his fork down onto his plate, still staring into her eyes, and leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table.

"Look, here's the thing," he said, his tone serious and words hesitant. "I, uh… I don't – we jus' met, an' we're both all different kindsa fucked up. Last night was… I don't do that kinda shit. Not anymore. Not since before Mal's mom. An' I've worked real hard ta come a long way from who I was before her, an' before Mal. And last night… well, I – fuck… I dunno. I jus' – I don't even know yer last name. But – what happened… it wasn't no desperation – lonely – whatever thing. I mean… Mal likes ya. I really like ya. But, all day, I jus' thought… well, I expected ta come home an' find ya gone without a word. And I would've understood, and I wouldn't have tried ta look for ya."

When he finally got all his words out, he stared at Beth and she saw the weariness in his eyes. She could see him chewing the inside of his cheek as he searched her face for a response.

It was a lot to comprehend at first. She hadn't even been sure that he would talk to her, but now she could see that he'd been carefully contemplating his words just like she had. But she couldn't figure out how to make the situation easy, even though it seemed like it should be.

Then again, what did she expect? That they would kiss and go to bed together and just start acting like it was all normal? She knew there were still a lot of layers to get through first – and a lot of explaining that they both had to do to themselves.

"Daryl, I'm not… goin' anywhere," Beth started, her voice coming out soft and quiet. "At least not anytime soon… You don't have to explain yourself to me. But if you do, I'm not gonna get scared and run off. And I'm not gonna expect the worst from you… Unless that's what you want me to do."

He narrowed his eyes as she talked, like he was trying to figure her out.

"I'm sorry if I was pushy last night… I dunno what I was thinkin'," she continued. "It just felt right. And I don't regret it. I know we just met less than two weeks ago, but… I dunno. It doesn't seem to matter, honestly. Not after… everythin' else."

Daryl's expression softened and she saw him glancing at her lips before he spoke, his voice coming out as a low grumble, "Yeah, but… ya still got fresh wounds."

Beth didn't break her gaze away from his eyes. "Sounds like you do, too…"

He blinked and looked down at his hands, where he began picking at his fingernails.

Silence hung in the air between them while Beth watched Daryl nervously fidget, and she wished he'd vocalize whatever was floating around in his head.

After a long moment, she said quietly, "It's Wilson."

He lifted his head and stopped picking at his fingernails to look at her. "Huh?"

She stared back. "My last name. It's Wilson."

Daryl still looked confused and said, "Rosie is… yer real name?"

Beth furrowed her brow, sharing his confusion. "Yeah, why wouldn't it be?"

He seemed to accept this and shrugged. "Jus' figured ya gave us all a fake name. 'Cause of yer ex."

She felt her cheeks heating up and shook her head, trying to appear as casual as possible while she blatantly lied. "No. That's it."

"Oh," Daryl said, and he was studying her face again as he mumbled quietly, "Rosie Wilson, huh…"

Maybe he actually trusts me, Beth thought. Just sucks I can't trust him with something like my name... Ever. All it would take is one Google search out of curiosity and…

"What's Rosie short for?" He asked, catching her off-guard.

Beth hesitated, spouting the first name that came to mind – a Shakespeare character she recalled from school. "Rosaline."

Daryl nodded, still studying her. "Good ta know…"

She raised her eyebrows and watched him for a moment, expecting something else – though she wasn't sure exactly what it was or why she expected it.

"You sleep alright?" He asked, sipping his drink.

Beth's stomach fluttered as she was reminded of sleeping in his bed, curled up against his side. "Yeah… did you?"

"Yeah, when ya weren't kickin' me," he said, and smirked. But then his face grew concerned. "You sure yer good? Seemed like… I'ono. Ya always sleep that restlessly?"

"I don't… think so," Beth muttered. "Sorry…"

"Don't worry 'bout it," Daryl shook a strand of hair out of his eyes. "Jus' makin' sure."

Beth was reminded of how miserable she'd been when she'd woken up, and it almost made her nauseous just thinking about it.

After several seconds of silence, Daryl stood up and gathered the dishes, then took them to the kitchen. Beth muttered a "thanks" and sipped her drink, watching him walk away. Once she heard the sink running and the sounds of dishes clinking together, she stood up and turned off the TV. Then she went to the kitchen to join him, wordlessly gathering dirty dishes and wrapping up leftovers.

After a few minutes of working together in silence, the kitchen was clean and Beth and Daryl realized there was nothing else left to be done.

They stopped and turned to each other, and Beth quickly realized the tension that had wedged itself between them was back. She didn't even know what to say to him right now.

"Well, gotta get t'bed. Work in the mornin'," Daryl mumbled before the silence went on for too long, and turned to leave the kitchen.

"Okay. Goodnight," Beth said quietly, and she headed for her bedroom just to escape the palpable tension of the kitchen.

But Daryl's voice stopped her in the doorway, and she turned around to find him standing in the hall and looking at her. Apparently, he felt the need to explain himself and had turned back to do so.

He started, "Um – kid's sleepin' in there with me, otherwise…"

Beth shook her head, understanding what he was referring to without having to speak it aloud. She was a bit surprised that he'd felt he needed to explain himself at all. She definitely hadn't expected it. "No, I know. I didn't – ya know... It's not like… that…"

Daryl's face seemed to fall and he pursed his lips. He looked like he was about to say something but had stopped himself.

Beth watched him expectantly but he looked away from her eyes and down at the floor momentarily. Then he lifted his head and glanced behind her, and his eyes seemed to catch something that made his brow furrow. He stepped forward, approaching the doorway, but he was looking over her head and into her bedroom.

"Is that – yer Bible?" He asked, pointing behind her.

She glanced back and saw the Bible she'd taken from his bookcase sitting on her nightstand. She looked up at him, suddenly very conscious of his close proximity. "Oh – no, it's yours. I borrowed it from the bookcase earlier. Sorry, I hope that's um, okay."

Beth was expecting a dismissive hand wave and a grumbled "jus' put it back when yer done." But instead, Daryl's face changed almost completely before her eyes, and she was left feeling stunned from his sudden mood swing.

"The fuck – you serious? Why is it in here?!" Daryl asked, his face growing stoic with anger and his voice rising.

The change in his tone made her feel immediately guilty for something she hadn't even known she'd done.

"What – Daryl, are you serious…?" Beth asked, perplexed.

She stared in shock as Daryl stepped past her and into the bedroom, taking long, swift strides to the nightstand and snatching up the old Bible angrily. He turned around, clutching it in his hand, and Beth saw something in his eyes that she couldn't recall seeing before.

"Don't touch shit that ain't yours, got it?" He said, and Beth felt like she was being scolded. "What makes you think ya had any right ta even pull it off the shelf?!"

Beth stammered out, "Daryl, I-I'm sorry, I didn't – "

"You might live here, but that don't mean some things ain't off-limits – like my kid's dead mother's shit."

Beth's mouth hung open. She was speechless, watching with wide eyes as Daryl stomped out of the bedroom and disappeared down the hall. Then she heard the bedroom door clicking shut angrily, just short of being slammed.

And she knew that if it weren't for Malachi, it would've been slammed very loudly.

to be continued…

A/N: Thanks to my coworker, Don, for answering my crazy questions about what meth smells like and how people cover the smell lmao.
Sorry if this chapter disappointed you, but I had to do it. Things get way more exciting next chapter... promise :) Feel free to let me know what you really think/feel in a review or PM!