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Three handguns and automatic rifle. Daryl surveyed them on his rickety little kitchen table.

'Fuck,' he swore, and kicked a table leg. He was just one man, and the prison had dozens of guards with Kalashnikovs. Guard towers. Fences and barricades. It wasn't going to work. Maybe if he had explosives and an armoured vehicle, a bull-dozer …

But he didn't have any of those things and Rick wasn't going to help him get them. He couldn't even get a goddamn typewriter under this regime without a permit, let alone anything that might be useful to him. And even if he could blast his way inside the prison he wouldn't know where to find Beth, and what if he hurt her or other prisoners in the attempt?

His mind turned darkly, sourly – inevitably – to Plan B. Kill Blake. Set up the rifle in a high window above the entrance to Blake's apartment and blow his brains out when he appeared. He fantasised about that constantly. It lulled him to sleep at night, the thought of the bright blood, Blake's shocked expression. The way his body would crumple, dead before he hit the ground.

But always, then what? What would happen to Beth? He'd asked himself that over and over and Maggie told him that it would only make things worse for Beth. That argument was growing thin. The Stasi wouldn't necessarily link Blake's assassination with Beth. He must have pissed loads of people off in East Berlin. And without Blake alive to hold Beth for no good fuckin' reason, she might be released. As he thought about all the days that had come and gone since Beth had been taken in, the logic of Maggie's argument suddenly snapped.

Daryl reached for the rifle. The magazine was full and he'd cleaned it thoroughly. It felt weighty in his hands. It felt good.

It was going to feel even better to kill Blake.

…

Beth was woken by someone shaking her shoulder. There was a moment of dread, a brace against pain, and then she realised she was home in her own flat and it wasn't a guard shaking her awake and about to hit her with his rifle, but Maggie.

Maggie was crying, big fat tears brimming on her eyelashes that were about to run down her face, saying, 'You're home, you're home,' over and over. Beth had fallen asleep on the sofa in the living room and she levered herself up. Maggie wrapped her arms around Beth and held her tight.

'Beth, are you all right? Maggie, stop squeezing her so tightly.' That was Glenn, hovering over Maggie's shoulder.

Maggie pulled back her eyes running over Beth. 'Did they hurt you?'

Beth gestured at her back, still feeling groggy. She didn't know how much time had passed since Blake had stopped the interrogation and let her sleep. Two days? Three?

Maggie pulled the collar of Beth's shirt back, exposing her shoulder. 'Beth. You're covered in bruises! Why –'

'To keep me awake,' Beth said, but she didn't care about that right now or being held too tightly by her sister. She was home.

Maggie and Glenn helped her to her own room and put her to bed. Maggie brought her a bowl of broth with torn up chunks of bread in it, and sat with her while she ate. 'It's last night's leftovers. I'm going to make something better for you tonight. You're so thin and pale.'

'Daryl,' Beth asked in the softest whisper she could manage. 'Is Daryl okay?'

Maggie nodded. 'As well as we all have been, which is going a little crazy worrying about you.'

'I need to –' Beth started to get out of bed.

Maggie stopped her. 'You're not going anywhere. I'll go.'

…

The rifle had been disassembled and put into his backpack. There was a handgun in there, and another tucked inside his belt, just in case he got trapped in the building and had to shoot his way out. He pulled on his black coat, and that was it. He needed surprisingly little preparation to carry out a murder.

Blake would be at the prison by now, which gave Daryl all night to scout out the perfect sniper's hole. This time tomorrow Blake would be dead, and he wasn't sure what a world without Blake would look like for him and Beth but it had to be better than it was now.

He was shrugging into his backpack when there was a knock on the door. He swore under his breath and quickly took it off again, shoved it into a corner and hid it beneath his coat.

When he opened the door he saw Maggie standing outside. He felt a lurch of fear and pulled her inside. There was a look in her eyes that told him something had changed. 'What is it? Is it Beth? What's happened?'

She clutched his forearms, her large eyes swimming with tears and he feared the worst, so it took a few seconds to realise she was saying, 'She's home, Beth's home, she was just there on the couch when I came in.'

Daryl took a step back and half-turned away, not able to believe what she was telling him, feeling too much even to form any words. He put his fingers to the back of his head, knuckling his skull.

'Is she –' His breath hitched.

'How did –'

Maggie reached up and pulled one of his arms down, holding his hand in both of hers. She spoke softly as if to a frightened animal. 'She's tired, and very thin and pale. She's barely eaten or slept in the time she's been gone. She wanted to come herself but I wouldn't let her.'

That got through to him. He turned to Maggie. 'When can I see her?'

…

Daryl sat on the sofa in the safe house, one heel bouncing up and down on the carpet, fists clenched tight. The waiting was driving him mad. This last hour was almost as bad as the fortnight Beth had been in prison, but not quite as she was free now, free and coming to him.

But what if that man stopped her, or if she wasn't strong enough to walk all this way yet and fainted in the snow, or –

A key turned in the lock and the door opened. Daryl was up like a shot and across the room. He pulled her into his arms before she'd even got the door closed. His Beth, her cheek cold against his, hot tears that tasted salty against his lips. He pulled back and wiped them away with his thumbs, looking into her blue eyes. They were as bright as ever in her thin face. She looked tired and rattled, but she was still the Beth he loved – loved? Yes, loved, and it was a shock but it wasn't a surprise – and that man hadn't broken her.

Wordlessly, Daryl helped her out of her coat and unwound the scarf from about her neck. He reached up to the collar of her plain, darned, East German-made blouse and pulled it aside.

She shrugged out of his grasp. 'Don't, Daryl.'

His hand stayed on her shoulder. 'I need to see,' he growled.

Beth hesitated, and then turned around and lifted the hem of her blouse. Daryl bit down hard on the inside of his cheek as he saw the masses of bruises, some an angry red-blue, others brown and still more a greenish-yellow. They were layered one atop the other, testament to the many days they'd been inflicted over.

He thought about the rifle in his flat and wished Maggie hadn't been quite so timely in getting news of Beth's release to him.

Beth pulled the shirt down once more and turned to him. 'It's all right, Daryl, really.'

He shook his head. 'It ain't fuckin' all right. I never liked you workin' with that man and I should have taken you over the Wall that night whether you liked it or not.'

Her blue eyes took on their stubborn look. 'It was my decision, not yours.'

'Well it should have been me, not you!'

Her eyes cleared, and she tucked her hand into his. 'I'm glad it wasn't,' she said softly.

He scowled. She shouldn't be protecting him, and being glad that she had to go through hell rather than him. This wasn't that way it was supposed to work. When the time came it was meant to be him in there, facing Blake, facing the sleep deprivation and interrogation and water torture and electrocution. Because this was his operation and he was supposed to save people, not have them suffer for him.

He led her over to the sofa, noticing how stiff she was. She'd walked all the way here like that, in pain, just to see him.

This girl, he thought, sitting down and pulling her into his lap, holding her lightly so that he wouldn't hurt her. This girl.

…

Beth sighed and nestled into Daryl's warmth. She didn't want to think about that place or who should have been in there. She didn't want to think about that man. She just wanted to be here, in this place, with Daryl.

He lifted a hand and traced it down the side of her face, brushing back her hair. 'Didn't let myself think about you in there,' he said. He twisted one of her blonde curls in his rough fingers. 'Didn't think about your smile. Your voice. How they had you trapped like an animal. Couldn't bear it.'

There was a long silence, and then he said, 'I'm sorry.'

She put up a hand to touch his cheek. It was bristly beneath her fingers. 'You're sorry you couldn't think about me?'

He nodded, not able to meet her eyes. His hair hung in his face. 'Fuckin' won, didn't they? Took you away, and we couldn't do anythin' about it. Took you away in all the ways.'

She tucked his hair behind his ear. 'I tried not to think about you, either. I was terrified that if I thought about you too much I was going to say your name, and I knew that if I did I would never see you again.'

He gave her a long, inscrutable look.

'What is it?' she asked.

'All that he did to you. An' you didn't say a word. You're better than any of us, Beth.'

She smiled, and dropped her cheek against his shoulder. 'You didn't see me when he wasn't around. Crying, a mess.' The smile faded. 'I didn't think I was ever getting out again. Like daddy.'

He kissed the top of her head softly. 'You know I want you to go now,' he whispered into her hair.

'I know,' she said quietly. But she wasn't quite ready yet. 'The plans for the U-bahn. Did you get them from Rick?'

'I did. Reckon that's the last thing he's gonna help me with.'

'Have you done anything with them yet?'

He chuckled softly. 'Nope. Was too busy thinkin' about ways to break into Hohenschönhausen.'

Beth thought about Blake in his office, one eye concealed in bandages. She thought about her father still in that place, her mother on the other side of the Wall and Maggie and Shawn at home. She thought about Daryl, here, with his plans and schemes. None of it felt like hers any more. That place Blake had kept her prisoner had squeezed every sense of belonging and home out of her.

Blake would be keeping tabs on her everywhere she went. To the factory. To the shops. She'd feel his eye looking at her through the eyes of his spies. It would drive her insane.

But maybe there was a place where she could carve out an angry, defiant niche for herself. A place of her own making where Blake couldn't touch her.

'Daryl?' she said, lifting her head from his chest.

He looked at her, waiting.

'I'm going to have to disappear for a little while.'

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Daryl, you poor love, it's so heart-wrenching to see you in pain! I am so glad that he had a little bit of happy in this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it too.