Most Wanted

by SquishyCool

Explicit AU: After the godly veil on the Greene Family drug operation is lifted, 18-year-old Beth commits a heinous crime to protect her family. Now she's the only one left free and is making a run for it to New York City. When she meets single dad Daryl Dixon, who just needs a little help covering the rent, she quickly realizes that some secrets can't be kept forever.

57. you're the failed attempts i never could

you're the failed attempts i never could forget

It was summer. Just like the majority of Beth's most treasured memories. Probably because her birthday was at the end of the summer, which had her excited all the way through July. But mostly because summer had always been the time when she could spend every day with her family, and they'd help her learn new things, like the summer she learned to ride a bike, or the summer she learned how to garden, or the summer she (barely) learned how to rollerblade. Not to mention, the summer she'd learned how to swim, and the summer she'd learned how to ride a horse – which had been the same summer that she'd learned how to rope cattle. Though she'd quickly lost interest because Maggie and Shawn were far more cut out for that kind of stuff – she was still too small to have any real success, even though her daddy had only given her calves to practice on. They still outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds. It frustrated her to no end when she couldn't physically do what her mind was determined to accomplish, and being small meant that happened a lot. So she preferred the activities that weren't size discriminatory.

Like fishing. She'd been trailing along behind her daddy, Maggie, and Shawn on their fishing trips since she could walk, though it had usually been a toy fishing pole, or one without a hook or any real bait. Obviously, Beth had never actually caught a fish before, or casted a line or baited a hook. Not by herself anyway. Not that she'd ever pushed for it – the process looked pretty complicated. And nasty. So this summer, her daddy had promised that they would teach her to fish for real on their very first morning fishing trip. He also promised that that meant she would have to bait her own hook, even if it got "gross," and if she caught something, she'd have to get the hook out of its mouth. But that was a given. Beth eagerly agreed to the new challenge, and on the first Saturday morning of summer vacation, she was up before anyone else in the house, wearing her "playing outside" overalls and mud boots, with a child-sized fishing pole and a little, pink tackle box in hand.

The sun was just beginning to inch its way toward the horizon, hints of light appearing in the black, star-specked sky above, and the Greene's were trekking through the wild grass in a large, open field, heading toward a pond visible in the distance. It was one of Hershel's four favorite ponds for fishing amongst his dozens of acres of land, and Beth was well acquainted with it by now. It was larger than most of the others on their property, and she knew her daddy had always made sure to take care of the ponds on their land, keeping them well-stocked with fish and maintaining the natural ecosystems already in place. So if you couldn't catch anything from one of his ponds, it definitely wasn't for a lack of fish.

For the longest time, Beth had cared more about catching the frogs and tadpoles at the edge of the pond, and swimming in the water, than she had cared about the fish. But now, as she trekked through tall grass and weeds with Momma, Daddy, Shawn, and Maggie, she was more excited than ever to finally catch a real fish. She didn't know why, but she wanted to hold one in her hands. Not that she hadn't done that before – but she wanted to see if it felt any different knowing she'd been the one to pull that fish out of the water. All by herself, with her own strength and willpower. Maybe then she would understand why her daddy seemed so proud of those antlers he'd hung on the living room wall.

They were setting up at the edge of the pond and baiting their hooks as the horizon began to change colors. The stars were beginning to gradually fade away, and Annette held a flashlight so everyone could see clearly. She usually didn't join them in fishing, but she liked to come along and sit on the banks to watch, sometimes to sunbathe. And she was always there with a comforting word if Beth got hurt, bandages and kisses at the ready.

Beth had no trouble baiting her hook. She felt a little bad when she stabbed the sharp end through the writhing worm in her hand, but she'd seen everyone else do it so many times now that it didn't bother her anymore. Plus, it was the "circle of life" – as her daddy liked to say. Shawn helped her with the more difficult parts of rigging her pole, threading the bobber on, and attaching the hook, but once she had the worm hooked on, it was up to her to make her first cast out into the water.

They all worked quietly. Her daddy had always told them that sunrise was the best time to fish, because it was breakfast time and the bugs turned the pond into an all-you-can-eat buffet. But he also told them that the fish had sensitive hearing, and if there were voices and a lot of noise near the water, they would be too scared to take the bait. So whenever they would take these early morning fishing trips, they would all have to be much quieter than usual, keeping their talking to a minimum and maintaining a strict rule of no yelling or splashing. Beth didn't mind that – she liked when Shawn and Maggie had to be quiet, because if they were quiet, they weren't arguing. She got the feeling that the fish didn't actually get that scared, but that her daddy just liked the peace and quiet when he fished. She kind of liked it, too. If she stayed really quiet, and watched closely, she could see fish breaching the surface every few seconds to gulp up bugs.

Beth's first attempt at casting out into the water was an utter failure. She didn't understand what had happened. She'd casted her toy poles out into the water a million times, but now that she had a heavy hook and real bait on the end, it was suddenly more difficult. The bobber, hook, and worm fell with a loud 'splat' against the surface of the water, barely a foot away from the muddy bank.

She sighed and glanced over at her daddy, Shawn, and Maggie. They were all preoccupied with their own fishing poles, though Shawn glanced over briefly and seemed to notice Beth's failure. He smirked and looked away again, and Beth reeled the line back in with pursed lips, checking to make sure the worm was still attached and wriggling. She was just waiting for the amused laughter from Shawn that was bound to come at any moment. Then she pulled her arm back and focused on casting out again, trying to compensate for the new weight.

Another 'splat' on the surface, and the worm sunk sadly into the water just a few feet off the bank, in the shallow water. Beth sighed again and tried not to look at Shawn from the corner of her eye as she reeled her line in and checked the worm. It was writhing much less than before and she was starting to feel bad for making it suffer. But she pulled her arm back and readied herself, focusing harder than last time, with her eyes set on a spot at least twenty feet out, near where Shawn's bobber was floating on the surface.

She casted her line out, but didn't even come close to the spot she'd been aiming for. The hook and worm fell into the water clumsily, though it was better than before because she'd finally managed to cast out past the shallow water. Just barely. She decided to leave it be for now and reeled in the bit of extra line, leaving her line taut so she could watch the bobber float at the surface, undisturbed. Then she heard Shawn snickering, and she immediately rolled her eyes in annoyance before turning her head to look over at her big brother and sister.

Maggie was gazing out at her bobber in the water, but Shawn was looking at Beth with a mocking smile while he snickered quietly. Beth furrowed her brows angrily and stuck out her tongue at him, causing him to chuckle.

"Might catch some more a those tadpoles you love so much, but not much else," he taunted.

The frustration at her uncooperative fishing pole turned into anger at Shawn's comment and Beth huffed, looking away from him and roughly reeling in her line. She knew he was right, and that's what made it so infuriating.

"Shawn, don't be a bully," Annette scolded from where she sat in her fold-out chair, about twenty feet behind them. She was reading a book with a small reading light clipped to it, flashlight resting in her lap in case it was needed. But the sky was growing lighter and lighter every minute.

Beth watched Shawn from the corner of her eye with smug satisfaction as he frowned and muttered, "Sorry, Momma."

She reeled her line in and checked the hook and bait again to find the worm hanging lifelessly. She sighed and pulled her arm back, making her best attempt at casting out farther. Even though her bait was pretty much dead. As she'd expected, the end of her line plopped down into the water sadly, barely two inches farther than last time. Beth held back a grunt of anger, glancing over to see that her daddy was smiling contently, gazing out at the water and patiently waiting for a fish to take his bait.

"Ooh! Got a bite," Maggie chirped, grinning as she pulled lightly on her pole and began slowly reeling the line in.

Beth's heart leapt and she looked over to watch as her big sister carefully reeled in the fish that was tugging on her line. Hershel was watching, too, an excited glint in his eyes.

"You gonna get the first catch today, Mags?" He smiled, watching as his oldest daughter played tug-of-war with a fish.

"This better be a big one if yer fightin' it that much," Shawn commented, watching with a smirk.

Maggie scoffed, continuing to reel the line in. "Gonna watch you eat yer words."

Shawn chuckled and Beth smiled as they watched their big sister reel the line up into the shallow water, until it was finally close enough that she could reach out and grab the line to pull it up. And with it came a green-and-black speckled crappie, barely twice the size of Maggie's hand, its mouth latched firmly around the hook. Beth had seen a million other fish just like it, as it was their most common catch, and they were constantly reeling them in and throwing them back. Maggie looked proud, nonetheless, and so did Hershel.

"Good one, Maggie," Annette called from her chair, watching with a smile.

"First catch a the day, not bad," Hershel commented.

"Mine'll be better," Shawn teased.

Maggie had both hands occupied with the fish now, focused on unhooking its mouth and setting it free. She was grinning until she heard Shawn's comment, then she looked up to glare at him. Without another word, she slipped the hook from the crappie's mouth and chucked the fish directly at Shawn's face. It made contact with his cheek, a loud 'slap' as it hit him and fell to the ground.

"OW!" He cried, one hand flying to cup his cheek while Maggie laughed and the crappie flopped around helplessly in the mud.

"Margaret!" Annette immediately scolded. "That is not how we treat fish. Now pick it up an' put it back in the water."

Maggie's smile disappeared and she responded, "Sorry, Momma…"

Shawn was still rubbing his cheek, brows furrowed together angrily as he glared at Maggie. Hershel grunted in frustration.

"Would y'all be quiet? I'd like ta catch something today, too," he scolded.

There was a quiet 'splash' as Maggie tossed the fish back out into the water, and Beth had watched everything silently, suppressing her laughter with a smile on her face. She really loved seeing Shawn and Maggie get in trouble. Though she was a little jealous that Maggie had gotten the first catch of the day.

It took several more attempts, but Beth was finally able to make a decent cast. She nearly reached the spot next to where Shawn's bobber was floating. And then it turned into a waiting game. Eventually, she was standing on the bank of the pond, gazing out at her bobber in the water and waiting for a fish to bite, just like Hershel, Maggie, and Shawn were doing.

Within about twenty minutes, as the sun was peeking over the horizon and turning the sky a bright orange-purple, Hershel, Maggie, and Shawn were all getting tugs on their lines. Beth could see their bobbers making that familiar dip below the surface – the dip that made her heart jump with excitement, because she knew it meant there was a fish biting at it. And then they were carefully reeling in, playing a carefully calculated game to assure that the hook was latched into the fish's mouth before trying to pull it to shore. Hershel's fish breached the surface first, a crappie about twice the size of the one that Maggie had caught. Then Shawn reeled in a bluegill the size of his hand, and Maggie reeled in a bare hook.

Shawn laughed at first, until Maggie grunted in frustration and reminded him, "That bluegill you got barely weighs more'an yer hook, what're you so proud of?" Beth laughed and Shawn's smile quickly disappeared. He was about to retort, but Hershel shot him a stern glare that made him shut his mouth, focusing on unhooking his fish and tossing it back out into the water instead. Maggie put a new worm on her hook and cast out again with a discreet smile of satisfaction on her face, while Hershel threw back his fish before doing the same.

Beth gazed out at the water, watching her bobber intently and trying to send a telepathic message to the fish to take her bait. There was even more action coming to the surface as the life within the pond woke up and scrounged around for breakfast. She knew it was just a matter of time and that she had to be patient, but patience had never been one of her strong suits. Especially when she could see her daddy's bobber barely dipping below the surface, and then Maggie's, immediately followed by Shawn's. It was like the fish were teasing them, taking small tastes of the buffet before making their selection. Then Beth saw her own bobber dip below the surface. But it didn't come back up.

She grinned in excitement and felt the tell-tale tug on her pole, gentle but firm as her line immediately went taut and the red-and-white bobber disappeared. She quickly began reeling in, her small fingers working as fast as they could, gripping the reel handle tightly. Her heart was racing and she felt the line grow a little lighter, which was odd, but she couldn't think about anything until that bobber was close enough for her to reach out and grab it. And she did, pulling the line with it. But instead of a fish appearing from below the surface… it was just a bare hook.

No wonder the line had been so light.

"Ya reeled it in too fast, Bethy," Hershel said, and Beth looked over to see that her daddy had been watching her from where he stood.

She frowned, holding the limp line in her hand with nothing more than a stripped hook on the end. "But I felt it bite."

Maggie glanced over and Shawn was looking, too, but he seemed to be keeping his comments to himself for now. Maggie commented, "You gotta make sure the hook catches, or else they'll rip yer bait off an' swim away."

Beth nodded in understanding and looked back down at the hook hanging from the end of her line, trying to imagine a fish tugging on the end of her lifeless worm until she yanked it free – essentially giving that lucky fish a free meal. Then she thought about how it was kind of her own fault for torturing her bait and flinging it out into the water. It had probably been just barely hanging onto the hook by that point, anyway. No wonder she hadn't reeled anything in.

"Gotta be patient ta catch somethin' – I don't think she's capable a that," Shawn remarked with a smug smirk.

Beth looked over to glare at him. Maggie rolled her eyes and said, "Stop actin' like yer so good at fishin', Shawn – she's eight. You wouldn't even bait yer own hook until lastyear."

Shawn's face fell and Beth laughed. He shot her a glare but she stuck her tongue out at him. Maggie smirked and went back to watching her bobber.

Beth fetched another nightcrawler from the Styrofoam container her daddy had brought along – most of which she'd caught herself. She struggled to grasp its slimy, writhing body between her small fingers and impale it with the sharp end of her hook. Although this one was easier than the last one, and she didn't wince away so badly when she felt the hook penetrating the worm's flesh. Then she was ready to cast out again, which she managed to do successfully on her first attempt, surprisingly. It still didn't make it nearly as far out as she'd hoped, but it worked. Her bobber was once again floating atop the water alongside her dad's and siblings'.

The sun was rising from behind the horizon and filling the sky with bright light, the day's first wave of warmth sweeping over the green field where the pond sat, dew drops glistening. With another fifteen or twenty minutes, everyone but Beth had gotten multiple nibbles on their lines, and Hershel and Shawn had both reeled in two more fish each. The largest one yet was a bass that Hershel had proudly held up for his family to see before gently tossing it back into the water. When he caught another bass a few minutes later, slightly smaller than that one, he kept it – attaching it to a stringer in the shallow part of the water inches away from the muddy bank, where it would swim in place with their other catches until they were done fishing.

When she finally did get a nibble on her line, and her bobber dipped beneath the surface and she felt the light tug on her pole, she would get excited and try her best to patiently reel the line in. Beth tried to reenact the way she'd seen her sister do it, or her daddy, or even Shawn with some of his better catches. But four tugs later, and four wasted worms, and she had nothing to show for it. Somehow, she wasn't getting her hook inside the fish's mouth – or maybe there was just a particularly smart fish down there, bullying her? She knew it was more likely that she was just doing something wrong.

She tried not to let her frustration show, but huffs and sighs and angry grunts came out – habits that she seemed to share with the rest of the Greene's. And Shawn would snicker, but Beth would ignore him. Maggie tried to offer advice, but Beth became even more frustrated when she couldn't manage to utilize the advice. All the while, her daddy watched her, offering small words of encouragement but mostly focusing on his own fishing line. And her momma sat back and watched, too, reading and 'hmm'ing with slight interest every now and then, too engrossed in her book at this point. Beth tried to remember that she'd had similar struggles with her past endeavors, like riding a bike and rollerblading. It had taken dozens of skinned knees and elbows before she managed to stay upright. But that had all depended on her balance alone. Fishing depended on doing something correctly that she couldn't entirely control, which was even more frustrating.

By the sixth time that Beth had reeled in something that was not a fish – this time, the worm was only half-eaten – she growled angrily and stomped her boot into the mud, splashing a little up onto her overalls. With frustration, she pulled her arm back and cast out into the water for the hundredth time that morning. Shawn seemed to have grown bored with making fun of her, because he'd stopped snickering at her failure and teasing her. He glanced over and shook his head, reeling in his line a bit as he teased a hesitant fish.

Her daddy had been watching her, though, and he commented first. "Ain't gonna get somethin' right the first time around, Bethy. You just gotta keep tryin'. Practice makes perfect."

Maggie sniggered and Beth knew it was because their daddy loved preaching the same old adages time and time again, and by now, the Greene children had them memorized. And sometimes they repeated them while doing their best impressions of Hershel – when he wasn't around, of course.

Maggie commented, "Y'know what they say: gotta fail before you can succeed."

Shawn snickered and added, "Gotta fall 'fore you can fly."

Beth was half-smiling now, side-eying her siblings as her daddy gazed out at the water, oblivious to the inside joke between his children. She let out a giggle and reeled her line back in as she shared a quiet laugh with Shawn and Maggie.

Then she tried again. Just like her daddy had said.

Because as much as it was a joke to the Greene kids, it was also their life. They found humor where they could, but they also knew that their daddy was very adamant about his beliefs, and one of those beliefs was that 'nothing is impossible to a truly determined person.' There was no quitting or saying, "I just can't" in this family. There was trying, and there was trying harder. But there was no throwing the towel in. Ever.

And sure enough, after six or seven more worms and over a dozen nibbles that turned into nothing but disappointments, Beth caught an actual fish. The sun was already above the horizon, slowly rising in the sky, and her momma had put on a sunhat and shut off her little book light. Hershel, Shawn, and Maggie had already caught at least three fish each, and when Beth reeled in a crappie smaller than the bluegill Shawn caught, she felt immensely proud of herself.

It had been an entirely new and gratifying experience to feel the weight of the fish on the end of her line, and to see it emerge from the water when she pulled it out. She'd touched and held plenty of fish before, but it was different when she'd been the one to pull it to shore, and when it was her sole responsibility to pull the hook from its mouth. She struggled to hold it still, scaly body squirming and flopping in her small hands. It was so full of life, so upset about being pulled from the water. So slimy.

She could see the fear in its small, round eyes – how had she never noticed that pure panic before? She was starting to feel kind of bad for it. Could the fish feel the pain of the hook in its mouth? She'd never really wondered before. Or maybe she'd just innocently assumed that it couldn't feel pain, or that fishing somehow didn't cause any kind of pain or suffering. So what about those worms? Could bugs feel pain, too?

Beth tried not to think about all these things, reminding herself that Shawn and Maggie would call her a big baby if they found out she felt bad for some stupid fish or nightcrawlers. She managed to free the crappie from her hook, and she'd gotten a decent enough grasp on its body that she could pick it up and hold it out for everyone to see.

"Daddy! Momma! I caught my first real fish!" She declared excitedly, grinning as she looked around at her family, mostly focusing on her parents.

Hershel and Annette looked over at Beth's fish, both of them immediately smiling. Annette clapped happily. "Oh, Bethy, your first fish!" She quickly set down her book to begin rummaging through the bag she'd brought, looking for her camera.

The fish writhed in Beth's hand, but she maintained her grip on its tail. Her daddy beamed proudly. "What'd I tell ya, Doodlebug? Just takes a little patience – and look at that payoff! Nothin' quite like reelin' in your first catch."

Maggie smiled and commented, "Not bad, Bethy. Almost bigger than Shawn's, but I was expectin' that."

"Hey!" Shawn remarked, shooting his older sister a glare before looking over at Beth and her fish. "Yeah, looks good, butthead. But let's see if you can do it again."

Beth stuck her tongue out at Shawn before turning to face her momma, who had finally found the camera. For some reason, Annette had never quite moved on to digital cameras, and she still used those plastic disposable cameras that most people no longer bothered with. It had produced hundreds of Walmart-developed photos that filled multiple albums and scrapbooks. She held the plastic camera up to her eye to look through the viewfinder while Beth held her fish up and smiled, posing in front of the pond, all muddy overalls and messy, blonde hair.

When the photo finally came out, Beth wasn't even upset that Shawn and Maggie were in it, too. Her momma slipped it into the "Bethany's Firsts" scrapbook she'd been compiling since shortly after Beth was born, and Hershel loved showing off his youngest daughter's first catch to family and close friends, even years after the fact.

Once her momma had a good photo, Beth tried to toss the fish back into the water as gently as possible, silently apologizing for putting a hole in its cheek. It disappeared into the muddy depths and swam off, and she went about sticking another worm on her hook to make her next catch. Hershel had to scold Shawn and Maggie for talking too much again, but they quickly fell silent, and then the Greene's were back to fishing quietly while the early morning sun rose higher in the sky.

By the time Annette was demanding that each of the Greene children come to her for an application of sunscreen, the stringer was holding five good-sized fish – most of which had been caught by Hershel. It was routine for them all to fish, and the kids mostly released their catches, while Hershel would keep the seven most meal-worthy fish and take them back home. If they were particularly large, he threw them back, explaining that he didn't want to disrupt the food chain inside the pond too drastically. But it was a somewhat special honor to catch a fish and have Dad think it was good enough to be cleaned and cooked up for the whole family to eat, and Maggie had already reeled a fish in that had gotten her a proud clap on the back from Hershel and a spot on the stringer.

And while Beth was letting her momma slather sunscreen all over her arms, neck, and face, Shawn reeled in another catch, this time a good-sized bass. As he held it up for everyone to see, Hershel complimented it and then told him to put it on the stringer, which Shawn did eagerly. Beth watched restlessly, resisting the urge to tell Momma to hurry up with the sunscreen so she could get back to trying to catch something that could be included on the stringer. Finally reeling in her first fish had been one thing, but being able to catch something that would end up on their dinner table? That would be something she could really be proud of. She was supposed to be a "gifted student," after all – at least, that's what they kept telling her at school.

As soon as she was fully protected from the sun, Beth rushed back to her fishing pole and hurriedly stabbed a worm onto the hook. Then she casted out into the water, glancing over at her family every few seconds to see if they were getting any more bites. It seemed that breakfast was coming to an end because their bobbers weren't dipping below the surface nearly as often, and Shawn and Maggie were beginning to look bored with watching their unmoving lines.

Beth felt a few nibbles and tried to reel something in, but she moved too quickly each time and scared the fish away. She remembered the advice she'd been given earlier, about waiting for just the right time. She had to earn the fish's trust, make sure its mouth was fully wrapped around the bait, before pulling the line and hopefully catching onto something with the sharp end of the hook. It was even tougher when she was going completely by feel, gauging the tugs on the line and the slight dips of the bobber. But that was what really made it a challenge. You never knew what might come out of that water.

"Those pancakes are callin' to me, honey," Annette spoke up from her chair, words directed at Hershel.

"Me, too, darlin'," Hershel responded. "One more good catch an' we'll head in."

Beth couldn't have timed the tug on her line better if she'd planned it, and something in her knew that this was a big one. She forced herself to remain calm, to focus and be patient. She waited for one tug. Two. The bobber dipped below the surface briefly, then it dipped again for much longer. Then the line went taut, and Beth took her chance to give the pole a light yank. The bobber disappeared below the surface and there was a strong tug on the line – it nearly pulled the pole right out of her small hands because she hadn't been prepared for such a fierce opposition. But she gritted her teeth and pulled back, immediately moving one hand down to grip the reel handle and begin reeling in the line.

The fish on the other end was refusing to give up easily. It pulled and tugged, fighting the whole way, and Beth reeled slowly, then quickly, then slowly again. She tried to ease the fish to shore, letting it fight back here and there, waiting for it to grow tired before reeling some more. She tried to emulate the things she'd seen everyone else do, and what they'd told her. When it reached shallow waters, it began to splash at the surface, wriggling and fighting as Beth prayed that her line wouldn't break. She was almost there.

"Holy – Beth, pull it in!" Shawn said, the flailing and splashing of the fish catching his attention.

"I'm tryin'!" Beth grunted, tugging and reeling and gripping with all her might.

"Oh my – that thing's huge!" Maggie commented from where she stood as the fish emerged from the shallow waters. It was dragging along the mud while Beth pulled it in so she could reach out for it without breaking the line by lifting it up.

Once it was within arm's reach, Beth wrapped her small fingers around its wet, scaly body, a huge grin on her face. It flopped and flailed wildly, scales shining in the sunlight as its mouth opened and closed repeatedly. Its beady eyes stared up at her in fear and confusion, and she tried to focus on its mouth, where the hook was embedded through its flesh. It was a bass, probably bigger than her head. When she finally picked it up by the tail, she had to use both hands because it was so heavy.

"Well, I'll be," Hershel commented, setting down his fishing pole and walking over to look closer. He was beaming proudly again, eyes wide with surprise. "I think this jus' might be Number Seven today."

Maggie let out a triumphant laugh. "Hah! She already beat you, Shawn. Took you three trips before you caught somethin' worth cleanin'!"

Beth grinned even wider and laughed along with her big sister while Shawn scoffed and rolled his eyes. She didn't even stop smiling as she watched her daddy hook the fat bass onto the stringer. She was still feeling extremely proud of herself as they all packed up for the day and made the trek back to the house for breakfast.

It only started to feel different once they'd gotten away from the pond. She kept her eyes locked on the big, white bucket her daddy was carrying, and stole a peek inside at the cramped fish every chance she got. After they got home, the bucket of fish sat on the porch until they had all finished breakfast. Beth slipped outside first and watched her fat bass flopping around in the water, identifiable even among the six other fish they'd kept. She knew what was coming next, because Shawn was excited for it and had been talking about it the whole time they were eating their pancakes. And she also knew it was no different than any other time they'd ever caught fish and had them for dinner – she'd seen the process a thousand times, it was nothing new or shocking to her.

But somehow, it felt different. It just did. She'd caught that fish herself, she'd pulled it from whatever life it had been living in that pond and she'd forced it onto land, hurt it with a hook, and then shoved it into a bucket with six other fish. She'd felt the way it fought when she was reeling it in, and she'd fought back just as hard. A big part of her had wanted really badly to throw it back out into the water right after she'd caught it. But her daddy had looked so proud and happy, and her momma was so ready to go home and have breakfast. And wasn't that what Beth had wanted, anyway? To catch something really good, so good that everybody would say, "wow, Beth sure is gifted at everything she tries"?

It had been. All she'd wanted was to feel the pride of pulling a fish from the water. She wanted to know what it was like to see the pay-off from all that patience and "right timing." But when she found herself standing on the porch, watching Maggie and Shawn gut and clean her bass, watching the panic in its eyes turn to blank death… that pay-off wasn't there anymore. She tried to tell herself it was just a stupid fish, who cared if it felt pain or not? They fished and ate fish all the time. It was another part of the circle of life that Daddy talked about.

But she couldn't deny how much better it had felt to throw a fish back out into the water than it did to pull one in. And she couldn't deny the guilt she felt when she watched Shawn slice that fat bass's head off. Why had she bothered with all the patience and right timing? Just to pull that living thing from the water and torture it, cause it pain, kill it? She'd taunted it with a good meal, taken advantage of its trusting and oblivious nature, and then yanked it ashore so they could shove it in a bucket and cut its head off?

Beth had thought catching a fish all by herself would feel different. Not worse. She was a farm girl, she wasn't supposed to be so sensitive about this kind of stuff. She was a Greene, she was supposed to be tough. She thought she'd be proud to be sitting at the dinner table, knowing one of the fish they were eating was one she'd caught.

But she just kept thinking about its little, panic-filled, beady eyes staring up at her. And its mouth opening and closing, silently gasping for air. Silently pleading for its life.

---

"Hey – y'all gettin' up? It's prime fishin' time!"

Dwight's voice cut harshly through Beth's deep sleep, and she felt Daryl waking up beside her and lifting his head. She kept her eyes closed, on the edge of falling back to sleep while cocooned in the warmth of the sleeping bag. But Daryl's rumbling voice stopped her.

"Yeah," he called out. "Gettin' up now, gimme a minute. Make some coffee, would ya?"

"Honey's already got breakfast started," Dwight's voice came again from the front of the tent. "Better hurry 'fore I eat all the bacon."

Then, as she'd expected at any moment, Beth heard Malachi's voice chirp up. "There's bacon? Dad, I have ta pee!"

She heard Daryl sigh beside her and felt his arm tighten its grip around her momentarily, then she felt him softly kissing her neck. He whispered against her skin, "I know yer awake, babe – might as well get up with me."

A sleepy smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Why don't you ever call me that when we're both fully awake? She wanted to ask. But she was way too tired to form words just yet.

She lifted her eyelids to see Daryl's face inches away, blinking until her vision was clear, and roughly rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The tent was still dark, and she could see that there was no hint of sunlight outside. She furrowed her brow. "But it's so-o early…"

Daryl grunted. "A toddler's bladder waits for no one." Then he pecked another kiss on her cheek and sat up, stretching his arms before crawling out of the sleeping bag to walk over and help Mal.

Beth sighed and rolled back over, fighting sleep again. She forced herself to sit up, roughly rubbing her eyes in an attempt to wake up. Dwight and Sherry had turned on most of the lights outside, sending a faint glow through the walls of the tent, and when Daryl and Mal opened the flap of the tent to slip outside, it let in a cold breeze, disrupting the blanket of warmth that had settled over the inside of the tent. Beth shivered and quickly got out of the sleeping bag, changing clothes in record time.

She slipped on two layers before pulling on a thick pair of socks and then her boots. Her bladder was full and she moved to head out the front of the tent and join the boys at the edge of the woods to relieve herself, but then she stopped and eyed her bag again. Taking advantage of her few minutes of solitude, she quickly reached down to the bottom of the bag, grabbing her phone and turning it on. She knew there wouldn't be a signal, but she couldn't resist checking. The screen told her it was currently 4:17 a.m. on Saturday, September 30th, and that she had "No Service." Her stomach clenched and she hoped it was just her bladder, because there was another feeling at the back of her head that wouldn't leave her alone.

There was a certain chill in her bones that she couldn't quite describe, and for some reason, she thought about the Amygdala – something she'd learned about in one of her senior year AP classes. It was the part of the brain that detected fear, one of the most primal parts of the human brain that had been there since the beginning of mankind. It remained in every human's brain because of how deeply instinctual and vital to survival it was. She wasn't quite sure why she was suddenly thinking about it now, but she had to ask herself… Could that be what this feeling was? Was her own brain picking up on things that she couldn't? Trying to warn her? Or was she just being overly paranoid again, finding a way to ruin the trip for herself when she'd looked forward to the small opportunity at getting away? She also remembered learning about the physical effects that could be caused to the human body by deeply repressed emotions, like guilt. But did it help to think about that right now? Or did it just make the ache inside grow more intense?

Either way, she knew that it wasn't doing any good, so she turned the phone off again and shoved it back down to the bottom of her bag, beneath all her clothes. Then she turned and left the tent, hurrying to the edge of the woods to find Daryl and Mal already on their way back.

Once everyone was done taking their morning bathroom trips, getting dressed, and brushing their teeth and hair, they all sat down on the logs around the small fire Dwight had built, which had a small stand for cooking set over it. Sherry had already cooked breakfast over the fire, portioning fried eggs and bacon out onto plates for everyone. The sky was still black and full of twinkling stars, a few dark clouds passing by, and they ate by the light of the solar-powered lanterns. Mal was bursting with energy for such an early hour of the morning, but Dwight and Daryl seemed used to being up so early as they sipped coffee and offered refills to Sherry and Beth.

Mal knew what they were planning because he kept talking about fishing and how he wanted to catch frogs and fish, and then he asked "Rosie" if she knew how to fish. And if she did, what was the biggest fish she ever caught? She answered all his questions with a smile, thinking back to that photo of her first catch. The photo that probably still sat inside a scrapbook somewhere in the Greene farmhouse. She asked Mal if he'd ever hunted for nightcrawlers to use as bait and he said no, immediately asking Daryl if they were going to do that. Daryl chuckled in response and assured his son that they'd brought along some live bait in the cooler, but that if he really wanted to, he could hunt for some worms on the way to the river. The toddler decided he really wanted to do that, and Beth immediately volunteered to help him. Then she shared a brief smile with Daryl as they sat together on the log. He nudged her knee lightly with his and she smiled wider.

After all the bacon and coffee was gone, everyone joined in to help clean up. Then Mal requested another bathroom trip and Daryl escorted him to the edge of the trees while Dwight and Sherry volunteered to get all the fishing gear ready to go. Beth helped gather their stuff together, finding that it didn't take very long, and when Daryl and Mal still hadn't returned, Dwight stood by and lit up a cigarette, and Sherry retreated into their tent to "do something" with her hair. Beth decided that wasn't a bad idea and slipped inside her and Daryl's tent to do the same.

She found a small hand mirror among Daryl's things and used it to quickly braid part of her hair. The different length strands had already been getting in her face, and she didn't want to repeatedly tuck it behind her ears with muddy hands. When she was done, the hair around the crown of her head was braided together neatly, all the messy flyaways and loose strands pulled back and off her face while the rest hung loosely against the back of her neck. She wouldn't normally expose her face so openly in the city, but since they were out in the middle of nowhere, she didn't have to worry about strangers or cameras. It was kind of refreshing to see herself with a cute, braided hairstyle, like she used to love wearing from time to time. Though she wasn't sure if this was Beth peeking through from behind the thin "Rosie" veil, or if she was subconsciously trying to merge the two into one.

When she emerged from the tent, Daryl and Mal were returning from the edge of the trees. After a thorough tick check and spray down of repellent – for everyone – they all prepared to make their way into the trees and toward the river. The toddler eagerly grabbed up anything that the adults would allow him to carry, which ended up being a small, red tackle box with "MALACHI" spelled out across the front in colorful stickers, and a child-sized fishing pole. Daryl carried a bag on his back, his tackle box, and his own pole, offering one to Beth, which she happily accepted and rested on her shoulder while she walked.

Dwight brought along the Styrofoam container full of live bait that had been inside the cooler, as well as his and Sherry's tackle box and poles, while Sherry carried a bag on her back and held a bright flashlight to illuminate their paths. Daryl gave the other flashlight to Beth, and she mostly used it to make sure the toddler grasping onto her and Daryl's hands was walking safely through the trees while they trekked closer to the sound of rushing water. The trees were extremely dark, and somehow even colder than the open area of their campsite had been. But that didn't stop Mal from checking every wet patch of earth they came across, turning over rocks and venturing off the path to find particularly messy patches of mud.

Beth tried to keep up, keeping a flashlight on him all the time and making sure he was careful where he stepped, second-glancing every plant he came into contact with. Daryl was attentive as well, reminding his son that there would be plenty of mud to hunt around in at the river. But Mal insisted on hunting for at least a few nightcrawlers before they got there, and Beth happily joined him, reminding Daryl that the fresher the bait was, the better it would work. He chuckled and shook his head at that, but watched with amusement whenever they would pause and stick their fingers into the muddy earth, grasping at the slimy ends of worms that were trying to escape.

A faint scent of rain and fresh water hung in the air, combined with the smell of soil, dead leaves, maple, and rotting wood. It almost reminded Beth of the woods behind the farmhouse, but she didn't allow her mind to drift in that direction right now. There were low rumbles of thunder coming from the sky every ten minutes or so, and she spotted a couple of brief flashes of lightning when she wasn't crouched down in the mud with Mal. Dwight and Daryl commented on how the worms would really be coming out soon if it ended up raining before they got done fishing, and Mal grew even more excited. There was a light layer of fog beginning to form over the ground as they approached the edge of the trees and the sound of rushing water grew louder. Beth and Mal had managed to catch five worms together and add them to Dwight's Styrofoam container, and as soon as they emerged from the trees, the toddler forgot all about worms and began rushing toward the muddy banks of the slow-flowing river.

Daryl called after his son and hurried to grab his arm and pull him a safe distance away from the edge of the water. Then the group joined them and began setting up in the mud, grass, and rocks, keeping their tackle boxes and bags on the dry rocks and away from the water or mud. Beth got Mal to rinse his hands in the shallow water of the river with her, washing off all the mud and worm slime from their walk. Sherry and Dwight sat perched on large rocks, rigging their poles and quietly talking with each other. Daryl made sure to help Mal set up his little kid pole first, attaching a colorful lure with no sharp ends or real weight to it on the end of his line. Then he led the toddler to the water and helped him cast out, and as soon as Mal seemed to remember the last time he'd gone fishing, he was going through the motions without assistance. Daryl stepped away to rig his own pole and slide some real bait onto a sharp hook.

Beth rigged the pole Daryl had given her to use, recalling the hundreds of times she'd gone fishing in one of her daddy's ponds. She barely needed any light from the flashlight to know what she was doing, and then she was impaling a worm with the sharp end of her hook, ready to make her first cast. When she looked up to see if Daryl was ready, she found him gazing at her with an intrigued expression ghosting across his face. He quickly looked back down at his own worm and hook.

"Looks like ya know what yer doin'," he muttered, ensuring that the nightcrawler was securely on his hook before glancing up to meet her eyes again.

"Not like I've never been fishin' before," Beth smiled, fingers absent-mindedly fidgeting with the worm wrapped around her hook. "My dad taught me. And my siblings."

"Hmm," he nodded and smirked. Then he briefly gestured toward her hair and mumbled, "I like the braid. An' the one you was wearin' the other day. Looks uh, real pretty. On you."

She felt herself blushing, thankful that the flashlight wasn't focused on her, even though he turned his face away reticently as soon as the words had left his mouth. She smiled sheepishly. "Thanks."

He leaned forward and reached out to gently grab her hand, silently guiding her to walk with him toward the edge of the water, still not quite meeting her gaze. Mal was pacing around in the mud and attempting to fish when Daryl and Beth approached with their poles, ready to cast out. Dwight and Sherry stood on the other side of the toddler, a few feet away and with enough distance between each of them that their lines didn't get tangled. Mal was laughing and chatting animatedly to no one in particular, and the sound of rushing water was barely louder than his voice, but everything else was silent around them. The crickets were gradually dying down with their incessant chirping, and except for scattered noises here and there from woodland critters, the wilderness around them was relatively quiet.

The river was probably no more than fifty feet across, and though Beth couldn't tell how deep it actually got, she could see that it flowed for miles in both directions. They were fishing in a small clearing on one side of the river, but the opposite side was more brush and thick trees, a darkness that was impossible to see into. And the clearing they were in was only about a thousand square feet, with more endless trees on either side. It seemed like a part of the mountains that would be easy to get lost in if you didn't know where you were going. But it was also isolated, and based on its appearance, as well as the appearance of the campsite, it seemed that there weren't a whole lot of people who knew about this area of the Catskills.

She looked over at Daryl, watching for a moment as he barely reeled in his line, blue eyes set on the water and his bobber floating on the surface. He looked the most content she'd seen him possibly all week, and it made the aching in her gut fade away the tiniest bit.

She spoke just loud enough that he could hear her over the water, "So is this like, a secret camping spot or somethin'?"

He turned his head to meet her gaze and flashed a smirk, taking a small step closer to her before replying, "Nah, not really. But it's not that well-known, either. Ain't nobody gonna bother us out here fer licenses or whatever. 'S why me an' Dwight like it. We found it a couple years ago, came out here a few times last year."

Beth smiled. "Oh – cool. It's really beautiful out here. An' quiet."

I sure got lucky finding somebody who appreciates their privacy so much, she thought.

"Mmhmm," he agreed, a content half-smile on his face.

"Hey-y, first catch a the day goes ta me!" Dwight announced, immediately drawing Daryl's, Beth's, and Mal's attention. "No surprise there, though!"

Sherry laughed and they all watched Dwight free a small, brown trout from his hook and hold it up for them to see. It was about the length of his forearm and couldn't have weighed more than four or five pounds. But he beamed proudly nonetheless, and when Mal dropped his pole on the rocks and rushed over to get a closer look, Dwight leaned down and held the fish still for the toddler.

"Wo-ow! Dad, d'you see the fish?!" Mal grinned, glancing over his shoulder at Daryl as he ran his tiny fingers along the scaly side of the trout.

"Yeah, buddy, ain't that cool?" Daryl smiled. "Think yer gonna catch one a those today?"

Mal laughed and gave the fish one last 'boop' on its nose before skipping back over to his fishing pole and picking it up to make another cast out into the water. "Yeah, I am!"

Dwight gently tossed the fish back into the river, and Beth watched as it disappeared into the flowing, dark water. She'd felt a few tugs on her own line, but nothing had taken her bait yet. Although she wasn't that worried about catching anything because she was having more fun watching Daryl and Mal fish together, and listening to Daryl and Dwight occasionally tease each other.

The sky was beginning to gradually lighten, hints of a sunrise coming from the horizon as the stars faded away one-by-one and the black turned to gray, then deep purple. More clouds appeared and slowly drifted across, obstructing the stars and the changing colors, growing darker and angrier. There was a promise of rain palpable in the air now, and the rumbles of thunder were coming more often, sounding closer each time. Rapid flashes of lightning turned the sky into a strobe light for a few seconds every five minutes. Beth wasn't sure if there was any correlation, but the closer the storm got, the more often her bobber was dipping below the water. It was like the fish could sense the approaching storm, even from beneath the dark depths of the rushing river. She thought about the Amygdala again – but only for a second. Then she caught herself and turned her attention to Mal instead.

"Dad, what if it rains?" The toddler asked, peering up at his dad with big, blue eyes.

Daryl shrugged, still gazing out at his bobber in the water. "Then we'll put on our ponchos. Ain't afraid a gettin' a li'l wet, are ya?"

Mal laughed and shook his head. "No! I didn't – um, you um, did you bring the ponch-toes? Mine has um, mine has Moana on it."

Daryl chuckled and nodded. "Yes, son, a course I brought 'em, even yer Moana one. They're in the bag."

Beth looked up toward the sky and watched the clouds moving slowly, more of them appearing from off in the distance. The smell of rain was growing stronger by the minute. Then she felt a strong tug on her pole and immediately looked to find the source, spotting her bobber completely submerged in the middle of the river. Her heart leapt and she grabbed for the reel handle. Something had taken her bait.

She acted without much thought, relying on muscle memory that was deeply ingrained in her movements. Within a few seconds, she'd made sure not to rip the hook out of the fish's mouth, and she'd also managed to keep the line taut without snapping it. But the flowing water of the river was different than the calm, still waters of the Georgia ponds she was accustomed to, so she had to pause more often than she normally would've, giving the fish its chance to calm down and trying to catch it by surprise as she reeled it in. There were a few times when she was almost certain it would get away, or her line would snap.

Daryl noticed the action and she heard his deep voice commenting from where he stood, "Woah – reel that sucker in, babe!"

Beth grinned, letting out a laugh but refusing to look away from her line in the water. She was so excited that she nearly missed what he said, but she filed it away for later.

There was splashing against the surface where the fish was fighting her, flailing wildly and tugging against her pulls. Once it had reached shallow waters, only about a foot away from the bank, she turned her head to glance over at Malachi, who was watching her struggle with wide eyes.

"Hey – you wanna help me pull this thing in?" She called to him. "I think it might be a big one!"

The toddler's face lit up with excitement and he dropped his pole onto the rocks, rushing around his dad and over to Beth. "Yeah, yeah! I wanna – I wanna help catch it!"

She squatted down to his level and helped guide his small hands to grasp the pole and the reel handle. Then they finished reeling the fish in the last couple of feet through shallow waters together and firmly grasped the handle of the pole to pull the fish out of the water. It was flailing wildly, splashing water everywhere and struggling even as Beth reached out to firmly wrap a hand around it. Another trout, but it was at least a couple pounds bigger than the one Dwight had caught.

"Okay, hold the pole still so I can pull it off the hook," Beth instructed, letting go of the fishing pole so the toddler could grasp it in his small hands and she could wrap both of her hands around the slimy, scaly, squirming trout.

"Oh my – Dad, Dad! We caught a – we caught a fish!" Mal cried out happily, barely able to stand still as he watched Beth unhook the fish's mouth with fascination.

Daryl chuckled from where he stood, slowly reeling in his own potential catch. "Good job, Mal! Make sure ya throw it back soon, though, fish can't breathe on land."

"I know!" Mal chirped, carefully setting down Beth's fishing pole as she held the fish out for him to inspect closer.

The fish was still fighting in her hands and its tiny, round eyes were full of fear and panic. Its mouth was opening and closing repeatedly, silently gasping for air. Dwight and Sherry appeared behind Mal, excited smiles on their faces as they got a closer look at the trout.

"Damn, already outfishin' us, huh?" Dwight laughed.

"She is a southern girl – like me," Sherry commented, nudging her husband playfully. "'Member the first time we went fishing together? I caught that catfish bigger than yer head."

"Oh, I remember," Dwight said, shaking his head and laughing again. "You southern girls are somethin' else, that's fer sure."

"Ain't that the truth," Daryl commented from where he stood, disappointedly pulling in a stripped hook from the water and stepping away to grab a fresh worm. When Beth glanced at him, he flashed her a flirtatious smirk and she smiled bashfully. Then she looked at Sherry and the women laughed together, shaking their heads.

The trout was far too wily for Mal to handle on his own, so Beth let him "help" her toss it back into the water, and they watched it disappear into the rushing water of the river together. The toddler laughed happily and clapped like he'd just watched a very satisfying show, and Beth felt a small burst of warmth in her chest.

"You wanna help me put a new worm on my hook?" She asked, picking up her abandoned fishing pole from the ground and finding the end of the line.

Mal nodded eagerly. "Yeah! I – can I pick the worm?"

"Duh, that's why I wanted yer help. You'll pick the tastiest lookin' worm!" Beth laughed, poking the toddler playfully in his belly as he let out a loud laugh.

He quickly ran off to fetch the Styrofoam container full of dirt and nightcrawlers, and when Beth stood up and glanced over at Daryl, she saw him watching her from where he stood with the fishing pole in his hand, a somewhat wistful expression in his eyes. There was a faint smirk on his lips and he gave her a subtle nod. She returned it with a knowing smile.

Mal was beyond elated to help "Rosie" bait her hook and cast out into the water, and he went on to try even harder with his own fishing pole. He seemed to have become so preoccupied by the fish and turtles that lived in the river that he had forgotten about hunting for bugs or frogs, and surprisingly, he only required one bathroom trip while they were fishing. Beth wasn't sure exactly how much time passed while they were lost in their river fishing paradise, talking and laughing and getting teased by light nibbles on their lines, but it felt like about two hours by the way the sky lightened and the sun approached the horizon. The clouds obscured most of the morning sunlight, though, and if the impending rain really did have an effect on the fish's appetites, then it had paid off for them all.

By the time they noticed the tiny droplets of water falling from the sky, Mal had (expectedly) not caught any actual fish with his fishing pole, although he had scooped up a palm full of tadpoles at one point, which he seemed to consider a success; Dwight had caught three decent-sized trout and a couple of fish that would be good for nothing more than bait; Sherry had caught one particularly large and shiny trout that caused Beth to comment on how beautiful it was, as well as a half-dozen hand-sized, brown trout; Daryl had only caught two big trout, and at one point, a turtle showed up and stole his bait while he watched helplessly and the others laughed. Beth, however, only made the one good catch, but she didn't really mind.

She found more entertainment in hearing Dwight and Daryl joke about who was really the better fisherman, as well as hearing Daryl scoff and tell Dwight that what he lacked in fishing, he more than made up for in actual hunting. Sherry seemed to agree with the sentiment, which only made Beth more curious to see that crossbow he'd brought along put to use. She was also curious about him being a hunter – how come he didn't have any pictures of himself with animal carcasses, or hunting trophies around the apartment? Or were those all in storage, too?

Everyone seemed to agree that they were ready to head back to camp for a mid-morning snack, and maybe a nap, as the rain began to fall more steadily. Mal was already complaining that he was hungry, to which Daryl assured him they would have something to eat soon. Beth had to admit that all the hiking through the woods and fighting with fish had made her pretty hungry, too, and maybe a little tired. Before they packed up their fishing gear, Daryl pulled three folded-up ponchos from his bag and handed one to her. She thanked him and slipped it on, once again grateful for his attention to detail and preparedness. A poncho was not something she had thought to bring, let alone buy – which was kind of stupid, she had to admit. New York definitely wasn't the desert, after all.

Mal's poncho did, in fact, have Moana on it. The toddler sported the teal-colored poncho proudly, Moana's cartoon face largely printed on the back, with the recognizable swirl design on the hood. He repeatedly sang part of the movie's theme song for several minutes after putting the poncho on, and Dwight, Sherry, and Daryl sang along with him while they finished packing up their fishing gear and preparing for the trek back to the campsite. Beth grinned and joined them in singing for the last couple of renditions, and as they turned and began walking toward the edge of the trees, Daryl flashed her another flirtatious smirk and she felt herself beginning to blush… again. She wasn't sure what it was about the way he looked at her, but it never failed to bring the butterflies in her stomach to life.

The sun had risen high enough above the horizon that the woods weren't completely dark, and even though the black rainclouds obscured most of the sunlight, they no longer needed the flashlights to navigate their way through the brush and dense trees. But a dense layer of fog had formed over the ground ,and keeping the flashlights dim helped them to navigate through the fallen logs and tangled brush at their feet. Daryl kept his flashlight focused on the path in front of Mal's small feet, keeping a close eye on every plant his tiny hands came in contact with. Beth helped by holding the toddler's hand and guiding him through the dead leaves and thick undergrowth, but he still insisted on stopping every now and then to turn over fallen logs or pick up particularly shiny rocks. The rain continued to fall down around them, splattering loudly across the tops of the trees. Their boots squished through the wet mud, damp earth sticking to their heels.

They were about halfway through their trek back to camp when Sherry dug some granola bars out of her bag and passed them out. Mal's whining had grown more incessant, and not even bugs could distract him anymore. Daryl gratefully took the individually wrapped bar from Sherry and handed it over to Mal, who eagerly set to work ripping it open. Beth took the bar offered to her and gazed down at it as they walked, finding that it was a granola bar with fruit, nuts, and chocolate. Daryl was already ripping his open and taking a big bite.

She turned the bar over in her hands and checked the back, skimming the ingredients list. She immediately spotted "citrus" within the tiny, black font, and she looked over at Mal, who was still struggling with tearing open the small rip he'd made in the packaging of his granola bar. It looked like the exact same flavor that she was holding in her hand.

"Mal – stop," she said, and without another thought, she reached out and snatched the snack out of the toddler's hand. He let out a loud whine and looked up at her with bewilderment, but she was already checking the label to make sure it was the same ingredients as her own. And it was.

"Mal can't eat this – there's citrus in it," Beth said, holding the granola bar out for Daryl to take.

Daryl gave her a quizzical look as Sherry and Dwight quickly looked over. He reached out and took the bar from her hand, swallowing the bite he'd been chewing and glancing down to check that she was right. He immediately realized she was and his eyes briefly widened.

"Shit – good catch," he muttered, a clouded expression crossing his features as he handed the granola bar back over to Sherry.

"Oh my god, are you serious?" Sherry asked, grabbing the snack from Daryl's hand and looking down at the label. "I didn't even think about checking for that – Daryl, I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry 'bout it, they slip that shit inta all kindsa places ya wouldn't expect," Daryl assured her, but he was gazing at Beth with a look she couldn't quite identify. Something like gratitude mixed with a bit of surprise.

Mal was whining at her leg, and Daryl quickly shushed him. "I'm sorry, bud, yer allergic. We got some good snacks back at camp, we'll be there soon."

Beth reached down and ruffled the toddler's blond hair. "I'm sorry, Mal," she apologized, then took his small hand in hers again and walked with him, stuffing her unwrapped granola bar into the pocket of her jeans with the other hand – despite her desire to scarf it down in three bites. He frowned and pouted, dragging his feet in the dirt. She spoke apologetically to him, "C'mon, we're almost there. I got some Reese's Cups I'll share with ya."

Mal's eyes lit up and he looked back up at her with new interest. "Really?"

She chuckled. "Yeah. They might be a little melted, though."

Mal shrugged, his smile finally returning. "I like melted stuff."

Beth laughed. "Me, too." Then she helped him jump over a large, dead log, their boots crunching dead leaves while drops of rain slid down their ponchos and water splashed around their feet.

When they reached camp, everything still looked as they'd left it, except that it wasn't completely dark anymore. They'd left a couple of small lights on, which provided plenty of light since the sun was up. It was still sprinkling, but the clouds were quickly passing by above them, revealing more gray skies and sunlight, promising an approaching end to the rain. The thunder and lightning had all but disappeared, and the crickets had died down to near silence. The woods were alive with the sounds of chirping birds instead.

Dwight and Sherry had come prepared, pulling out a make-shift awning that folded out and set up to cover a large enough area for them to all sit beneath in a small circle, protected from the cold drizzle of rain. It also allowed them to build a small fire, which they huddled close around for warmth once everyone had changed out of their muddy, rain-dampened ponchos and clothes. Daryl spent extra time with a towel on Mal's hair, and then performing another tick check and repellent spray-down. The toddler stopped complaining once he was sitting close to the fire, dressed in dry clothes with a warm blanket wrapped around his shoulders, a citrus-free granola bar in one hand and a Reese's Cup in the other.

Daryl and Dwight ate bologna sandwiches while Sherry, Beth, and Mal opted for granola bars and a little candy. They all sat around the small fire together, Mal squeezed right between Daryl and Beth on one log, and Sherry and Dwight sitting close together on the other log. They were already reminiscing excitedly about their fishing adventure, and Dwight and Sherry pointed out how much "Rosie" had surprised them with her big catch, to which she shrugged and turned bashfully away from Daryl's smirking gaze.

Mal joined in for a while, sipping from a juice box and chattering happily about how he'd helped "Rosie" reel that big fish in, and they all congratulated him on a job well done. When he looked up at Beth and thanked her for letting him help her, and especially for letting him touch the "cool-feeling" trout, she felt that warmth blossoming in her chest again. She grinned back at the toddler, suppressing her urge to wrap her arms around him and never let go. She wasn't sure when, exactly, she'd gotten so attached to this little boy. But she was definitely attached. If she was still falling for Daryl, then she had already fallen very hard for his son.

The aching in her gut made its presence known again, so she grabbed another Reese's Cup from her bag and tried to ignore it.

After a solid hour of sitting around the fire, snacking and getting warm, Mal finished his juice and gradually got quieter until Beth glanced over at him to see that he'd dozed off while leaning against her arm. She got Daryl's attention and he looked over, half-smiling and gazing at the scene for a moment. Then he carefully stood from the log and picked the toddler up, blanket and all. Mal's eyes fluttered open briefly, but he quickly went back to sleep when he realized he was in Daryl's arms, being carried to the tent.

A few minutes later, Daryl reemerged from the tent and reclaimed his spot on the log. But he scooted closer to Beth now that Mal wasn't between them, and wrapped an arm around her to pull her even closer. She smiled and leaned into him to listen to the rain lightly falling on the awning above them while he continued chatting quietly with Dwight and Sherry, staying mindful of the sleeping child nearby.

They had all finished their snacks and were wearing tired expressions on their faces, but Beth could see how much Daryl and Dwight were truly enjoying themselves. Now that she'd seen Daryl out here, she could tell that he was really in his element. He hadn't ever looked happier than when he was sitting with his close friends in C Block, working in the garage at Ride Rehab, or out here, camping and getting reacquainted with nature. That look he got in his eyes when he talked about motorcycles or about Malachi – that look that Beth loved seeing more than anything, like she was witnessing him burst and bloom right in front of her eyes – it was almost always present while they were out here. She could almost feel his excitement, his passion. His desire for simplicity. For familiarity. For security.

She tried not to, but she wondered if that feeling could ever correlate to a need for travel. A need to escape. Maybe to run far away… With her.

Beth realized she'd been staring blankly into the fire, lost in her own thoughts, when a wet beer can was held in front of her face to get her attention. She looked up to see Dwight standing and holding out two beers for her and Daryl, and she accepted without much thought. "Thanks," she smiled.

Daryl shrugged and accepted his as well, and then Dwight returned to the cooler to grab one for himself before taking his seat beside Sherry.

"Ain't been lit before noon since I was runnin' 'round with Merle," Daryl chuckled humorlessly, popping open the tab on the beer can and taking a long gulp.

Beth glanced over at him, intrigued, and opened the can in her hands, taking a tentative sip. It tasted better than she'd expected – or maybe she was already developing that "acquired taste." Something about a cold beer around a warm fire was difficult to resist. She ignored the twinge of guilt that surfaced when she briefly thought about what her daddy would say if he saw her drinking. And so often. And underage.

But I've done a lotta things I don't think you ever wanted me to do, she thought bitterly.

"I think the last time I got drunk before noon was when we lived in Georgia," Sherry said, sharing a look with Dwight as she continued. "'Member that friend Tina had? The girl that lived in that big-ass house with the swimming pool and the hot tub?"

Dwight grinned and chuckled. "Ohh yeah, that hot tub – I 'member that. Every damn house on that block had a full-sized swimming pool."

Daryl shook his head and sipped his beer, listening with a half-smile. Beth watched Sherry blush lightly and laugh before she went on, "Yeah, me an' Tina got drunk at that girl's house one day in high school. 'Cause her parents were at work an' it was Skip Day. We broke into their liquor cabinet – thanks to Tina's lock-picking skills."

"Damn, couple a troublemakers, weren't ya?" Daryl remarked, smirking.

Dwight laughed and Sherry scoffed. "Yeah, right. It was my first Skip Day, and Tina taught herself how t'pick locks. I had nothin' to do with that." She laughed, a reminiscent expression on her face. "We were drunk by ten in the morning. I popped the only floaty they had, but I really wanted a floaty, so I thought it'd be a good idea t'climb over the fence and steal the neighbor's floaty from their pool."

Dwight and Daryl laughed, but Beth asked with wide eyes, "Did you get caught?"

Sherry chuckled and shook her head. "No, but my dumbass got a thigh full of splinters from the fence. And I forgot t'throw the floaty back over when we were done, so Tina's friend got in trouble when the neighbors saw it."

Dwight laughed again. "Didn't you say you were never allowed over there after that? I remember somethin' about how we weren't allowed t'use their hot tub anymore. But I thought it was 'cause they found out about what we were really doin' in there."

Sherry nodded, grinning. "Yep. Me an' Tina were the real reason. We didn't even bother t'fill the liquor bottles with water, so the parents knew immediately. We were so stupid." She laughed.

Dwight shook his head, chuckling, and took a sip of his beer. Then he nodded in Daryl's direction and said, "Last time I was drunk before noon – I think me an' you were fishin' out in the boonies. Trespassin' on somebody's land an' catchin' all the good fish outta their ponds. Shit, 'member the time that guy caught us? Came out with a shotgun pointed at our heads, like we were stealin' cattle or somethin'."

Daryl nodded along with Dwight's story, silently reminiscing along with him. Then he took a long sip of his beer and shrugged. "Wasn't the first time I had a gun pointed t'my head. Wasn't the last time, either."

He'd said it nonchalantly, like it was just another detail of the story, but Beth furrowed her eyebrows and looked over at him, studying his expression. He even appeared nonchalant about it. How many guns had been held to Daryl Dixon's head over the years? What was she missing here?

"Yeah, but that wouldn't be the case if ya'd just left with us when I asked ya to," Dwight said, smiling like it was a joke. Daryl smirked back and took another sip of beer.

Beth could sense that this was a topic the two men had grown used to joking about, but her presence was changing that for Daryl. Did he really think there was anything she could learn about his past that would change the way she saw him? Of course he did. It was Daryl. He'd probably never admit it, but she knew.

Daryl shrugged again and muttered, "Well, things were good when Merle was clean. I thought he might come around again – only family I ever really had, couldn't just give up on 'im. Gave 'im the benefit of the doubt more often than I should've. Then I started drinkin' tequila at eight in the morning. Every morning. Funniest part of it all is that I probably couldn't even tell ya how many guns I've had pointed at me – an' then it was some pussy with a knife that put me in the hospital." He let out a laugh and this time, it was genuine. Dwight laughed along with him and the two men seemed to silently agree that the past was better left in the past, simultaneously taking swigs of their beers.

Beth couldn't explain it, but something about the tone of voice Daryl had when he talked about it, and the burst of laughter after he'd finished reminiscing, told her that he'd figured out how to move on. How to escape the chains of his early life. Something she wanted – no, needed – so desperately to learn. Or maybe it was just the support of his best friend that had gotten him to stop looking back, someone who was always there to remind him that he was better off now than he'd ever been before. More likely, it was a combination of both.

"Shit, man," Dwight spoke up after a few moments of comfortable silence, tossing his empty beer can into the nearby trash bucket. "How much longer you think the boy'll be asleep?"

Daryl glanced toward the tent and shrugged. "Prob'ly another hour. All the walkin' an' shit is really wearin' him out. Why?"

Dwight raised his eyebrows. "Maybe we can do a little huntin'. Have some rabbit or somethin' for lunch. Or supper."

"Been a while since I've had anything that fresh," Sherry commented, standing up and walking over to her small stash of cooking supplies to dig out what looked like the components for hot cocoa. "Even if it's rabbit."

Daryl looked over to Beth expectantly. "Whatcha think? Ever had rabbit stew or anythin' like that? Maybe we can hunt somethin' more exotic for y'all…"

Beth giggled and nudged him playfully. "'Course I've had rabbit. I've had just about anything you can hunt. Don't get too crazy, though – I'm not tryin' ta taste bobcat for the first time or somethin'."

Daryl chuckled. Dwight laughed and said, "What about Sasquatch? I've heard about a lotta Bigfoot sighting around these parts – "

"By all means, if you catch it, leave it in one piece. Then we'll have enough money t'go camping forever," Sherry joked as she moved around the fire, setting up her small cooking station to boil a small pot full of bottled water.

They all shared a laugh, then Daryl shrugged and said, "'Spose we could get a quick hunt in. Might actually be somethin' worth shootin' now that the rain's stopped."

Beth looked around and realized he was right, and that she hadn't noticed the absence of the sound of water droplets hitting the awning above them. Though the air still had the same chill to it, and the smell of rain remained heavy around them. The fog was gradually dissipating from the ground, and the clouds were continuing to drift across the clear, gray sky. Her beer was gone now, settling in her stomach, and she tossed the empty can into the trash, right behind Daryl's empty can.

"We'll stay here an' watch Mal," Sherry volunteered, stepping away from the pot of water to let it boil while she took a seat on the log. "If you guys want." She looked over to Beth expectantly.

Beth quickly nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I'd love t'see what y'all can bring back."

She would've liked to see Daryl hunt with that crossbow he'd brought along, but at the moment, sitting around the campfire and drinking hot cocoa with Sherry sounded a lot nicer than mucking around in the cold, wet, foggy woods. Plus, she wanted to give Daryl a chance to have time with his best friend, doing something they both loved. Maybe she'd get another chance to tag along and see him in action before the trip was over. They still had another twenty-four hours or so before they had to return to the city, anyway. And she was pretty sure he didn't haul that crossbow all the way out to the mountains just to use it once.

Daryl leaned into Beth and mumbled low enough that only she could hear, "Sure yer okay stayin' here?"

She turned her head to look back at him and nodded, smiling reassuringly. "Yeah, 'course. Rabbit sounds a lot better than bologna sandwiches or beans."

He let out a low chuckle and leaned in to plant a quick kiss on her lips. Then he rumbled, "That's what I was thinkin'. We'll be back soon. I'll try ta get back 'fore Mal wakes up."

Beth shrugged. "'S not a big deal. I think I can handle 'im till you get back." Then she smiled sheepishly and tilted her head to the side, adding, "I think he's gettin' pretty fond of me, actually."

Daryl's mouth turned up into a brief smile and he grunted in amusement, leaning in to steal another quick kiss. Before he leaned away again, he quietly told her, "That makes two of us."

She was blushing again as he stepped away and joined Dwight to fetch the weapons they'd brought along. Even though she was trying really hard not to. The fluttering in her stomach was incessant, no matter how much she tried to push it away.

Although she had to admit… the fluttering was better than the aching. And hearing Daryl's past brought up again had provoked the dormant pang of guilt in her gut. Realizing that he'd successfully shed his old skin, as well as realizing that she had a very long way to go before she could shed her own. How was she supposed to tell him about her past when he'd worked so hard to escape his own? Especially when her past was full of so many things that were still actively affecting her present. And future.

After more quick kisses and promises to return soon from both men, Sherry and Beth were left alone by the fire while they watched Dwight and Daryl trek into the thick woods, crossbow and rifle in hand. Moments after they'd disappeared from sight, Sherry was handing Beth a steaming mug of cocoa with plenty of marshmallows on top. The sun was barely beginning to peek out from behind the clouds and warm the wet earth. Beth thanked the other woman with a small smile and took a tentative sip from her mug. The chocolate was rich, and the warmth spread through her whole body and relaxed her. It tasted even better than the beer had.

"Having fun so far?" Sherry asked casually, cupping her mug of hot cocoa between both hands and gazing over at Beth with a friendly smile.

Beth nodded and returned the smile. "I'm so glad I got t'come out here. It's beautiful. And the quiet is nice, too."

Sherry chuckled and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you get used to the city noise after a while, but then you come out here and remember what was nice about livin' in the country."

"Mmhmm," Beth agreed. "I almost forgot how many more stars there actually are."

Sherry laughed and took a careful sip of her hot cocoa, then she gestured to the empty spot beside her. "Wanna come sit over here? Might be warmer."

Beth glanced around her and realized she was actually sitting kind of far away now that it was just the two of them. She shrugged and got up, moving over to the other log and sitting down beside Sherry. Turned out, she was right – it was warmer. There was a light breeze that was causing the fire to lean in their direction, sending more consistent bursts of warm air over them. And it didn't feel awkward sitting with Sherry, or uncomfortable. She and Beth had talked and shared plenty of laughs so far, and Beth had to admit that this other woman was beginning to feel like a new friend.

Though she still wasn't quite sure how much she could trust Sherry. She'd been trying to gauge it, trying to study the other woman and figure out what she might really think of "Rosie." Sherry didn't seem like a threat so far. She didn't appear to recognize Beth in any way, or question anything that she'd said. She wasn't suspicious, like Carol. Or nosey. But none of that really mattered, at the end of the day. Beth could only imagine that neither Dwight or Sherry would want Daryl to have anything to do with a wanted murderer… no matter how much they might've grown to like her.

"I dunno about you, but I really didn't feel like walkin' through all that mud an' shit again jus' to follow them around while they hunt," Sherry said, sipping her cocoa and gazing thoughtfully into the fire before turning to look at Beth and smile.

Beth nodded. "I didn't feel like it either. An' I saw you were making cocoa so that kinda swayed me, too."

They laughed quietly together, then Sherry said, "I think they need their guy time anyway. I know Dwight was so excited about comin' up here, it was all he talked about last week. And he worked kinda late the last couple of days – if he wants t'go kill somethin' with Daryl for a couple hours, he definitely earned it."

"Yeah, that's what I was thinkin', too," Beth agreed, sipping her cocoa. Then she paused and glanced away before smiling sheepishly and adding, "Although, I am pretty curious t'see Daryl use that crossbow."

Sherry chuckled and raised her eyebrows, like she thought Beth was kidding at first. "Oh, really? I forgot, you didn't even know he had that thing before yesterday, huh?"

Beth shook her head, smiling. "No! He never mentioned it."

Sherry nodded and rolled her eyes playfully. "Yeah, he probably acts like it's no big deal. But he's actually pretty damn good with the thing. And it's weird, 'cause it's not like, shootin' a gun, ya know? Dwight's gotten t'be a good shot with his rifle over the years, but using that crossbow thing takes some real skill."

Beth's eyes widened briefly with intrigue, then she furrowed her brow. "Why a crossbow? I would've assumed he'd owned a rifle, if anything… Maybe a machete, I guess. He seems like a melee kinda person."

Sherry laughed lightly as though Beth were making a joke, taking a sip of her cocoa before shrugging and replying, "I dunno. He had one when we met him in Georgia, an' that was like, over fifteen years ago. All he ever said was that guns are 'too loud.' 'Spose that probably goes along with the whole tracking thing."

Beth gave Sherry another quizzical look. "Tracking?"

Sherry quickly nodded and explained, "He's a really good tracker – like, animal tracks."

"Oh-h," Beth said, finally understanding what the other woman was talking about. "Wow, really? I don't think I've met many people who know how t'track. Or really care to."

"Same here. But he's just always been into it. And he's good at it," Sherry said. "He tracked a twenty-point buck one year back in Georgia. Dwight got the kill shot – he still tells the story. But they never would've found it, let alone been able t'sneak up on it, if it weren't for Daryl."

"Wow," Beth commented, smirking as she imagined a younger Daryl, tracking a huge deer out in the Georgia backwoods. "He never really talks about that stuff. Well – not ta me. But I guess I don't really ask, either."

Finding out that Daryl was a tracker made sense. His attention to detail, his natural affinity for silence, his ability to communicate without words better than most. He was observant, quiet, stealthy. Of course he was a tracker. Beth had only ever known one man who could track worth a damn, and that was her Uncle Lloyd – who also happened to be Arnold's daddy. He was long dead, of course. But Beth could still remember the hunting tales that Hershel would recount over and over from his and Lloyd's younger days, and how Lloyd would always track the buck and Hershel would take it down. Hearing about Daryl and Dwight's hunting method made her think of Lloyd again for the first time in months. It also made her think of Arnold, who was sitting in prison just like the rest of her family.

Sherry shrugged, taking a long and leisurely sip of her hot cocoa. Then she said, "It's not as big a part of his life anymore, I s'pose. But there's probably a lotta stuff he doesn't really talk about."

Beth took a long sip of her cocoa and gazed into the fire thoughtfully. "Yeah. True."

"You've been pretty quiet so far, though. You sure you're havin' fun?" Sherry asked, her gaze growing concerned as she looked at Beth.

Beth quickly smiled and nodded, harshly reminded of her inability to keep everything locked away. She could certainly take some cues from Daryl in that department. She'd tried to join in on conversations and jokes, but Daryl, Dwight, and Sherry loved to reminisce about the "trouble" they caused back in Georgia. And Beth was afraid that if she let herself get too comfortable and chatty, she'd let something unintentionally slip, and the entire Rosie Wilson ruse would come crumbling down.

But she plastered on her most innocent face and replied, "Yeah, I really am. I jus' – well, you guys have been friends forever so you have lots of stuff t'talk about together. I get enough of a kick outta hearing all your crazy stories."

Sherry smiled, leaning back a bit as she pulled her feet up off the ground and crossed her legs together on the log, facing Beth. She was still cupping the hot mug of cocoa, all of her marshmallows melted away. "Oh, c'mon – jus' 'cause we're old now and we did a bunch of dumb shit together when we were kids." The women laughed together, then Sherry continued, "I'm sure you have stories of your own. Or even just opinions. Don't let those two dorks make you feel invisible."

Beth laughed again and shook her head. "No, it's not that. I like bein' around you guys. I like seein' how happy Daryl is when we're all together."

Sherry's smile softened and she gazed at Beth curiously, making Beth wonder if what she'd said had been a little too cheesy to voice aloud. But then the older woman said, "So do I. But he's a lot happier since you've been around, so I hope you realize that it's not jus' because we're all camping together or whatever."

Beth shrugged and half-smiled bashfully. "Yeah, I s'pose so." She took a long sip of her cocoa, which had grown nearly lukewarm. Then she added, "I really don't have much t'talk about, though. I didn't do a whole lot back home. An' the stories I do have aren't… good."

Sherry furrowed her brow and said, "Well, that doesn't mean you shouldn't share them. It's the best way t'move past it. That's how Dwight and Daryl can joke about that shitshow back in Georgia now – 'cause they didn't avoid talking about the bad memories. It wasn't easy at first, but it makes it easier. I think."

Beth nodded, gazing down at her cocoa thoughtfully. Sherry's words were reassuring, but that didn't make them any more helpful. Beth still had to leave out that vital little part about how she couldn't discuss the "bad stuff" because it would literally incriminate her. She lifted her eyes to meet Sherry's again and mumbled, "I know yer right. It just… well, I don't think Daryl's really ta that point with me yet, either. He's told me a little about his brother, an' his parents. But he doesn't tell me stuff like – how many guns he's had pointed to his head. So… I don't push the subject."

Sherry nodded in understanding, then shrugged and gave Beth a reassuring half-smile. "Well, that stuff comes with time. Eventually, he'll tell you everything. Just like you will, too, I'm sure."

Yeah… with time, Beth thought, quickly draining the last few drops of her cocoa and setting the empty mug aside.

"He told me about… Mal's mom," she said, watching Sherry's eyes light up with intrigue as she spoke. "Like, a lot. Which was good – he needed it. An' I think I needed t'hear it, too. But – it made me feel… I dunno. Weird. Like maybe I was just fillin' a spot temporarily. Or maybe he's not really over her."

Sherry raised her eyebrows and her smile faded. She chewed on her lip thoughtfully for a moment, then spoke quietly, "Yeah, that's a whole other can of worms, honestly. Although I can assure you that you're not 'filling a spot.' Lucy is… long gone. He's over her, it's just a… really big wound that'll take a long time ta heal, ya know? But you – talked about it, right? You told him how you really felt after he told you all that?"

Beth quickly nodded. "Yeah, of course. We had a little… argument, I guess. But I jus' feel bad because he told me so much. An' I've told him some stuff about my ex, and why I came to the city, but…"

Wait, Beth stopped herself, mouth still open as the words froze on her tongue. Am I doing it right now? Am I spilling too much? No, I can say some things. Sherry thinks I'm an abuse victim. She'll just pity me. She's not like Carol. She's not suspicious of me.

"But," Sherry arched an eyebrow and stared at Beth expectantly. "You can't tell him everything – because you're afraid he'll see you differently? Or he won't want t'be with you anymore?"

Beth blinked and her mouth snapped shut, staring back at Sherry and swallowing hard. Maybe this woman did kind of know what she was talking about. Beth nodded weakly and her voice sounded shaky when it came out. "Y-yeah. Exactly…"

Sherry's expression became sympathetic and she appeared to be studying Beth. Of course, just as Beth had assumed she would, Sherry was feeling pity for her. Probably imagining all the ways that this imaginary ex-boyfriend had scarred her for life – when, in reality, it was Beth who had done the scarring. The killing.

Then the older woman smiled and shook her head, throwing back the last swig of cocoa left in her mug before speaking. "Don't worry about that. You do realize that's exactly the same thing Daryl is worried about…? Like, constantly."

Beth furrowed her brow quizzically. "What? What're you talkin' about?"

Sherry snickered and shook her head again, then confidently said, "I've known Daryl for a long time and I'm gonna tell you right now that he doesn't talk t'you about his past because he's afraid you'll think he's some kinda white trash loser, or criminal or somethin', and that you won't wanna be with him."

Beth scoffed. "That's ridiculous. I don't care what he's done, and there's nothing that could make me think of him that way. He's not a loser – definitely not a criminal."

Sherry smiled. "Duh. You know that, and I know that. But Daryl has always thought poorly of himself. He's not as bad as he used ta be, since he's been a dad, but it's still there… He'll always be insecure – at least a little bit."

Beth was quiet for a long moment as she mulled over Sherry's words. Then she muttered, "It's… mine is different, though. It really will affect how he thinks of me. An' I'm afraid if – if I don't tell him about it, it'll end up haunting me. Or he'll find out an' hate me anyway…"

Sherry pressed her lips tightly together and hesitated, then she said, "Whatever it is, I honestly don't think it will change things between you two. Trust me… It'll all come out. You guys will talk about everything. When the time is right."

Beth swallowed past a forming knot in her throat and chewed on the inside of her cheek. I've been waiting for the time to be right… when will that ever be? How am I supposed to know? What if I already missed it? You have no idea that I'm talkin' about an actual felony. I don't think you'd be saying 'when the time is right' if you knew I was holdin' back from telling Daryl about my arrest warrant.

Sherry continued, "And, besides – you guys have a lot more in common than you think. Well, from what I know so far, anyway. Your ex sounds kinda like Daryl's brother."

Beth nodded and forced away an image of Jimmy that wanted to flash into her mind. "Yeah, he was… a mess. I think um, they might've been addicted to the same drug. From the sounds of it…"

Sherry frowned and looked away momentarily. "Meth?"

Beth nodded.

"Yeah. I can only imagine what kinda shit you had t'deal with," Sherry muttered. It sounded like it came from a place of experience, or at least secondhand experience.

Beth smiled weakly, but she knew it appeared forced. Whatever. It kept the tears from forming. "That's another reason I don't wanna talk about it. I don't wanna drag 'im down, remind him of all that bullshit he got away from. He doesn't need t'hear any more stories about a twacked-out, abusive guy."

Sherry smirked and rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. You really think there's anything you could tell 'im that he hasn't heard, or experienced, before? I'm not even exaggerating when I say that there is nothing you could tell him, at this point, that would make him want t'leave you."

Beth rolled her eyes mockingly, then smiled. She shook her head and looked away, toward the fire, knowing that what Sherry was telling her right now didn't actually hold any weight. Nonetheless, she muttered quietly, "It's only been a month. We still barely know each other. I'm pretty sure there's lots a things that could be potential dealbreakers…"

Sherry laughed and Beth continued gazing into the fire. "By now, sweetie? There's nothin' you could tell him that could scare 'im off. He's already fallen head over heels for you. Can't you see it?"

Beth's stomach fluttered and she turned to look at the other woman again, slightly confused. She felt her cheeks warming, but not from the heat of the fire. Then she pursed her lips tightly together and smiled bashfully, trying to brush off Sherry's statement.

Yeah, I can see it, because I've fallen too, she thought. But he's falling for the innocent and abused Rosie Wilson… Not the murdering, lying Beth Greene. And scaring him off will be the least of my problems when he finds out the truth.

to be continued…

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A/N: Sorry for the late update! I won't post a chapter until I feel it is JUST right, and that's what happened here. The flashback ended up becoming way more meaningful than I'd originally intended, so I spent some extra time on the chapter as a whole. And now the flashback parallels most of the themes in this chapter, as well as the next couple of chapters. Hope you like it! Next Sunday will be Detective Grimes III.
Also: I made a comprehensive Pinterest board for this fic, if anyone is interested, and I'll be continuously adding to it. You can find me on Pinterest as SquishyCool. And if you're ever looking for updates on this fic (like why the newest chapter isn't showing up on Sunday lol), you can find me on tumblr as im-immortal, where I post lots of updates about this fic and my progress on it.