Google 'Norman Reedus snow'. The black-and-white black jacket/black shirt shots have been my inspiration for East Berlin Daryl.

…

'Someone's in immediate danger, I get them out right away. That's always been my rule.'

Daryl could see from the mutinous expression on her face that Beth didn't much like him talking about what he did and his rules. Tough. She consistently underrated the danger of a given situation, especially when it came to Blake. It was time someone straightened this mess out.

'So I'm supposed to just leave Maggie and Glenn without even saying goodbye?'

'I'll get them out too, right after you. Tomorrow.'

'How Daryl? You haven't got a tunnel. It's dangerous to act without thinking, you know that. And what about my brother? My daddy?'

She was just making excuses. None of this mattered when compared to the very real danger of Blake. 'What about them?' he asked. 'What would they think of the position that you've got yourself in? They'd want you as far away from that man as I do.'

She folded her arms and fumed, leaning back against the chest of drawers. 'I didn't ask for any of this. I let him kiss me, but I didn't want to work for him in the first place and it's not my fault I remind him of his dead girlfriend.'

'I know, Beth. It ain't fair. Life ain't fair, 'specially not this side of the Wall.'

She lifted her eyes to his. 'And you? I'm supposed to do without you, too?'

He stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets and shrugged. 'Did all right before you met me.'

'I don't want to,' she whispered. 'We were supposed to be in this together, remember?'

The silence stretched between them. It was killing him, the thought of her going over the Wall without him. Being lost to him. He wanted to say that he'd go with her, but there were people relying on him. He might be ready to join her in a month, two months, but what about the people he met in the meantime? The ones who were friends or sisters or cousins of the ones he was getting out? What was he supposed to say to them, that they were on their own now?

'Beth, doin' this gives my life purpose. I ain't ever had purpose before, and I can't give it up. Some people just ain't safe this side of the Wall, and you're one of them. So I gotta get you out.'

She came toward him. He moved back, but there wasn't much space.

'Say you need me.'

He shook his head, looking at his feet, his hair falling in front of his face.

'Say you need me, Daryl.' When he didn't answer she punched him on the arm, her small fist against his bicep. 'Say you need me, and I ain't talking about the Wall.'

'I need you,' he ground out, like she'd dragged it out of him, kicking and screaming. He lifted his head and glared at her, as if he'd just told her he hated her instead. He did need her, and it was goddamn scary because he hadn't needed anyone in such a long time. Getting people over the Wall gave him purpose, but she made it a life.

'Remember that first time we saw each other?' she asked.

He nodded. He remembered the girl he'd ran into in the road, slender in his arms, those big blue eyes captivating him, making him forget about everything else. He put a hand to her waist now, feeling it against his palm just as he had then. Remembering what it had felt like. Remembering what seeing her pretty face did to him every time he saw her. Remembering how her bravery buoyed him up, made him want to keep going, even through all the shit.

He knew what Blake wanted from Beth. A second chance. He might hate the man, but he understood him in one sense. You suffer a loss, you do some terrible things, and then there's this girl breathing sunshine and fearlessness all over your life and you want it for yourself. You want to hold it in your hands, drink it up.

She drifted closer to him, and his other hand came up. He was holding onto her now, feeling her curves beneath his fingers.

'Yeah, I do,' he murmured. His hands tightened on her waist.

'Daryl,' she whispered. 'Would you kiss me? Please?'

He raised his eyes and saw her pink lips parted, not more than a few inches from his own. She was so pretty, so unspoilt. What was he? Rough. Dirty. Unkempt. Shouldn't even be touching her but she felt so damn good.

Her hands ran up his chest and to the back of his neck. Smooth, soft fingers, tangling in his hair. Still he didn't kiss her, but he could feel himself wanting to more with every caress. This was where she should be, in the circle of his arms, her breath shallow and light against his cheek. Not out there. Not in Blake's office. Not on the other side of that fuckin' Wall. Here. It wasn't right. But he couldn't think of another way that she'd be safe.

Daryl looked at her lips. He moved in closer to kiss her, but something wasn't right. Then he remember what. He walked her back a few steps, swept an armload of detritus from the chest of drawers and lifted her easily onto them. She looked at him in surprise.

'I ain't kissin' you,' he growled, 'in those goddamn stockings.' He put his hands on her thighs and looked her in the eyes, waiting.

She nodded. He eased back her skirt, feeling for her suspender belt, his eyes never leaving her face. Her cheeks were turning pink and her eyes growing dark. He felt the front fastenings and flipped them open with his thumbs. His fingers slipped underneath her thighs and took care of the back fasteners too.

In one long, slow motion he pulled the stockings down her legs. Her high heels clattered to the floor. The gossamer skins he laid carefully aside.

His hands returned to her thighs and caressed her skin. It was softer than any silk. His mouth was so close to hers, her rapid breaths fanning his face. God, she was perfect. He reached a hand round to her behind and pulled her tightly against his hips. Her ankles crossed at the small of his back, her bare thighs tight around him.

He moved close to her, his lips barely an inch from hers, and he breathed her in. Just his. Just for a moment, their arms around each other.

'Daryl, please –'

His lips touched hers. Softly, barely grazing them. Then harder, his mouth parting her lips. His tongue sought hers, needing more of her, and she gasped against his mouth. She was so supple in his arms, so responsive.

Screw standing up. He carried her, just as she was, over to his bed and lay down with her. Just for a few minutes. He wouldn't take her clothes off. He just needed to feel her against him, and let the whole goddamn world go away for a while.

He pulled back for a moment, looking at her face. She was flushed, wide eyed. She could probably feel the thick rod of his hardness against her thigh. He was right, as a moment later her hand caressed him, and then it moved to the button of his trousers. Goddamn, she was a bold little thing. He stopped her. 'No. Let's keep our clothes on.'

She bit her lip and nodded. Her hand slid up under his shirt, across his belly to his chest. His hand was between her parted thighs and he stroked the soft skin there. And felt a sudden, overwhelming desire to know if she was wet. If she wanted him as much as he did her. His thumb pressed up and over the fabric of her underwear. It was slick beneath his touch and she moaned, her head falling back. Jesus Christ. She was wet. He found the hard nub of her clit and stroked over it in circles and she panted. He could just –

Fuck. What was he doing? He sat up and raked a hand through his hair.

'Daryl?' Beth's hands reached up and cupped the sides of his face. She sat up and kissed him, drawing her down to him. He went with her, his hands on her body seeking out her breasts, the buttons on her clothes. Getting her beneath him, sliding a knee between her thighs so he could –

Goddamn. They were getting carried away.

He sat up again. 'All right. Okay. Time to get up.' He levered himself off the bed and stood, looking around, then down at her, breathing hard.

Beth sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. Looking so goddamn cute with her bare legs and her mussed hair.

She looked up at him. 'Daryl, I'm going to need a gun.'

…

'What? You need a what now?' He looked around the room again as if he couldn't remember where he was.

'I need a gun. If I'm going to stay I need a way of protecting myself.'

He looked bewildered. 'Stay? What?'

Beth bit back a smile. She'd completely disoriented him. She'd felt the same way while he was kissing her but her head had cleared the instant he'd stood up. Her face felt hot and there was a throbbing between her thighs. A throbbing that she knew he could have done something about if he'd just kept doing whatever it was he'd been doing with his fingers, or whatever he'd been about to do right before he'd stood up. But she had all her wits about her just the same.

He put his fingers to his temples and took a deep breath. 'How do women do that?' He reached for his cigarettes, lit one for her and one for himself, and then sat down on the bed, several feet from Beth.

Beth laughed. 'Do what?'

He gestured wildly with one hand. 'Hold a rational fuckin' conversation a split second after … that. Back up a second, girl. You want a gun?'

She nodded. 'I want a gun, and I want you to show me how to use it. I need it in case Blake gets carried away with nostalgia for Hannah.'

'You're goin' over the Wall,' he growled.

'No I'm not. Not after you kissed me like that. Are you crazy? I'm staying here with you, and we're doing this together.'

He stared at her. 'You don't just get to decide –'

'Well, neither do you,' she said, and her mutinous look was back.

They smoked their cigarettes in silence.

'Fuckin' tricked me,' he muttered.

'Oh, yes?' she asked, amused.

'Thought it was a goodbye kiss.'

She scooted closer to him and pressed her side against his. She leaned her head on his shoulder, loving the feel of his body. He was broad and strong, and moved with instinct. Whether he was walking down the street or smoking a cigarette or kissing her. She knew she was safe with him. If he'd stripped her bare and made love to her right then she would have let him, knowing that he would have been careful with her. 'It sort of was,' she whispered. 'But I changed my mind.'

'Sure did a hell of a lot of thinkin' while I was kissing you,' he said, annoyed. 'Stayin'. Guns. I was busy just kissin', that's all I can say.'

She laughed, shaking against him.

'Troublemaker,' he muttered, stabbing his cigarette out. 'Come on. I'll walk you home.'

…

A short chapter today as I ran out of time, but can we all just savour the fact that, for the moment, all is kinda nice with Beth and Daryl?

*takes a moment*

*savours*

*thinks about the delights of wearing silk stockings around Daryl Dixon*

Drama, doom and death to resume shortly.