It's been so long since I updated, I'm seriously embarrassed. To be fair I had a good excuse: I was in school and I work full time and then there was the fuckery of the MSF so -whatever! Point is, I'm here with an update just in time for christmas. =) Updates *should* come faster than this from now on but don't hold me to that because I don't actually know what's going to come up in my life. Thank you all so much for your amazing reviews and I know I say it all the time but seriously thank you because reading them motivates me to keep writing and it means the world to me to know people are reading this story and taking time out of their day to review it, so thank you! Anyway, here's the chapter, hope you enjoy, let me know what you think! Happy holidays, lovelies! xx.

She didn't know how many hours she'd been laying in bed, staring up at her darkened ceiling while her mind spun at a thousand thoughts per minute and kept her from some much needed sleep. Images of the day flashed through her mind and she tried to will her brain to recall the exact moment she'd seen him for the first time but she could already only conjure up a vague image of him looking surly in the bakery that morning.

So there it was; Daryl in the flesh and she had known him for an entire day before she even knew who he was. There were no butterflies, no fireworks, no cartoonish hearts leaping out of their eyes at each other. Their first conversation had been an argument much like every other one they had that day and Beth wondered if this was all some practical joke. That out of all the people in the world, the universe had had some sort of hiccup and paired her with someone who couldn't possibly be right for her. Someone she couldn't possibly be right for.

She closed her eyes and pictured him perfectly; towering over her with his over-long hair and his smoke and leather. He was older too, she noticed. Older and good looking and the type of man (man; because he was not a boy like Jimmy or a guy like Zach) who wouldn't look twice at her.

Wasn't Daryl supposed to be perfect for her? Wasn't he supposed to be someone who would look at her and see everything he ever wanted? She could just imagine him now, thoroughly disappointed in the skinny girl with tiny breasts that he'd been unknowingly waiting for for who knew how long.

She'd asked him what his soulmate was like, back at the bakery, and when she hadn't received an answer she hadn't thought much of it. Her mind had simply wandered off to a woman that rode on the back of motorcycles and hung out at bars. A woman with curves and a sharp wit that took no shit. Hours ago, before she'd seen her name on him, she imagined the woman that graced his wrist to be made of steel.

Steel was something she knew laid nowhere beneath the surface in her and is if to prove her point, she felt her eyes begin to water in frustration.

She took one of her spare pillows and buried her face in it to drown out the aggravated sound that escaped her. Daryl was off somewhere, wanting nothing to do with her after having actually, physically, run away from her after realizing who she was and she was alone in her room, agonizing silently because she'd only just laid eyes on him and she could already feel the pull of him; the universe letting her know that now that she'd found him, it wasn't going to let them drift away.

And she didn't want them to. It was a maddening prospect; to know that after all this time the person she'd been looking for was right there and it wasn't going to be the roses and happiness she had pictured since had hit puberty and her mind had begun to wander to romance. But he was there; she'd called his name and for only the briefest of moments he'd stopped, almost turned to face her and she realized it was him. Whoever he was, whatever they had expected from one another, it was him and it was her and whatever was meant to happen all had a purpose; she believed that. Maybe she didn't understand it and maybe it wouldn't be easy but she'd been waiting for him all her life, the mere thought of his name pushing her through some of the darkest moments of her life and she wasn't about to let him run away without a fight.

He recognizes everything; it's his own apartment. At the same time he recognizes that it feels different. Bigger, maybe. As he climbs out of bed and pads down the hall towards the front of the place he realizes it's actually brighter. As if someone's opened up an extra window even though when he looks around nothing looks different. Except Merle isn't laying in his couch, there's none of his empty beer bottles sitting on the coffee table and there's a pretty humming coming from the direction of the kitchen.

He sees her standing there, humming away, doing something with a tray of cupcakes like he'd seen her do at the bakery the day before. There's a vague part of him that doesn't understand what she's doing there, a conscious part that wants to chastise his mind for conjuring this up but to his dream self it's as if he's done this a million times. He goes through the motions without reason or rationalization and finds himself making his way into his tiny kitchen, watching as a smile appears on her lips but she carries on humming to herself, not acknowledging him.

He stops just behind her and realizes the height advantage he has over her. How easily he could rest his chin on top of her head or lean down further and nuzzle the place between her neck and shoulder. He watches his hands as if they don't really belong to him; because he can't imagine himself ever being comfortable enough to touch her with so much familiarity. His large hands resting on either side of her hips and then moving forward, until his arms are wrapped around her and he actually is nuzzling her neck, enjoying the smell of vanilla and sweetness on her. She's stopped icing cupcakes, thrown her head to the side and is just sighing contentedly; as if being like that with him is her favorite thing in the world. Daryl doesn't know about her, but he thinks he could easily stay in this dream forever.

He wants to place his lips on her shoulder, find out if she tastes as sweet as she smells and he finds it in him, in some unknown part of him where confidence lives, to do just that when she turns in his arms suddenly and hooks her arms behind his neck, bringing herself closer to him. One hand tangles in the overgrown hair at the nape of his neck, the other she brings forward to caress his scruffy cheek and he's never been one to think he's much to look at, but the way her eyes search out his face, the hint of a smile on her lips as she looks at him like he's everything to her, he might just start believing it.

When he wakes, his head's pounding and his eyes sting against the light seeping in through the lone window in his bedroom. It felt like a hangover, but he knew that the single beer he'd nursed until it was too warm to even pretend to drink the night before was not to blame. He shut his eyes and dug the heels of his palms into them trying to get the stinging to subside and blamed the hours he spent staring into the darkness of his bedroom, fighting sleep until he could no longer physically stay awake and then succumbing to dreams he was frankly to embarrassed to even admit to himself in the light of day. Dreams of cupcakes and yellow hair, sweet songs and 'good morning' kisses. Twenty four hours he'd known the girl and she'd turned him into a useless sap even in his dreams. Merle would give him hell for it and he deserved it.

He refused to think about her; refused to even think of her name though he knew it wasn't the easiest thing when all he had to do was look down and see it etched on his skin. He wasn't good at too many things but avoidance was one he excelled at. He had perfected the art of it at a young age, running off into the woods to escape his father's drunk rage for days at a time until he figured it was safe to go back. He spent a few stupid, reckless years of his life running from cops when Merle talked him into doing equally stupid, reckless shit. He'd spent 20 years running from her. And he was sure that he could continue to do it, even after seeing her face. Her pretty face. With big blue eyes that were always bright; like a fire was raging in them -in her- ready to reach out and consume him completely if he let her.

He dragged himself out of his bed, routine leading him into the bathroom and under a shower and he swore he didn't mean to but the minute he closes his eyes under the spray of water and shampoo, he sees her behind his lids -the cute mess he'd found her in the bakery with blonde hair wild and flour smeared on her face, and his favorite: (though he'd never admit that he'd already categorized parts of her and memories of her as his "favorite") the defiance when she thought he'd lost Judith; the little jut of her chin and the fierce look in her eye of blazing blue. She might have looked like sunshine and porcelain but even back then, before he knew her name, he'd seen steel underneath. It suited her; went with the fire in her eyes.

When he'd walked out of Rick's house the night before he'd decided to push it all down, to pretend like he'd never laid eyes on her at all because, he reasoned, there was little chance in hell that he'd ever know what to do with a girl like her and every chance that he'd completely fuck everything up. He'd been hoping to spare the girl the trouble completely and just never show up in her life at all if he could help it. He'd even been planning his exit strategy in case he ever did stumble upon her. But then, he'd been expecting someone like him; someone easy to walk away from.

Soulmates.

What the hell did that even mean, anyway? He'd spent so long (more than he would ever admit to any human being) imagining all types of women named Beth and attaching the word "soulmate" to. After a while he could only figure it had to be someone that shared something with him; what that something was, he didn't know. But a similarity of some kind. He could have imagined some poor girl with a fucked up past and a more than a little bitterness over it. Someone he could reason he would be giving a fighting chance to go on and make her life better without him in it. Instead the world had put this girl in front of him. A girl made of steel and bright light and he felt like the stupidest moth; flinging himself face first into the flame and to hell with the consequences. A stupid, selfish, moth too. Who'd seen a pretty thing that was clearly too good for him and he didn't want to let it go. He wanted to clutch to it possessively and bark back that it's what the world had wanted for him. So he could only try harder to stay away; give her that chance he'd talked up in his mind before "Beth" had doe-eyes and a sweet smile.

"You goin' out already?" Merle asked him groggily from the couch. He realized it was still early morning, he had at least two hours before his shift at the shop started but he'd hoped that putting his hands to work would ease the restlessness of his mind.

"Yeah. Got a lot shit to catch up on," he grunted as he searched around for his keys. "'M takin' the bike. You care?" He was still waiting for the moment when he broke the news to Merle that he wanted to keep the bike he'd brought back to life, so to speak, he was even willing to give him a few hundred bucks for the piece of junk he'd left him when Merle ran off to Atlanta.

It was too early for Merle to argue however and he only waved him off, sitting up on the couch and rubbing his hands on his face. Daryl observed his brother...a shadow of a shadow, in a way. He hadn't seen Merle at all while he was in Atlanta; while he'd known Andrea. Daryl had never even met her. But when Merle returned he was different; he was the shadow of whatever man he'd been in Atlanta and although Merle was a master of repression and he managed to put up a good front, Daryl could see the cracks in his armor sometimes. He never acknowledged it because he didn't want to; didn't want to understand something that had changed Merle, of all people, so drastically but now he was half way towards the front door of his apartment and he stopped in his tracks and awkwardly cleared his throat.

"When you met Andrea, what was it like?" He figured there was no delicate way to move into the topic, Merle wasn't one for tact, so he just asked; simple and straightforward. His brother glanced up at him, "did it...feel different?"

Merle, ever perceptive, glanced down at his wrist. "You meet that poor bitch or something?"

He chewed on his bottom lip and debated the truth for a minute and then shook his head 'no' once. "Just askin'."

"What? We just gonna sit and braid each other's hair and talk about our feelings Darylina?" There was Merle's sardonic humor in the question, laced with a bite that Daryl could have interpreted as grief.

"Forget I asked," he mumbled and started reaching for the door handle but Merle called out.

"Hey," He stopped but didn't turn to face him. "It was good. It was...like things weren't gonna be shit for once."

Daryl almost turned to look at his brother, "Boy was I wrong, huh?" he finished with a humorless laugh.

Daryl nodded once towards him and walked out of the apartment.

Rick Grimes prided himself in being pragmatic. His job wasn't the easiest in such a small town and he always trusted his instinct to make the right call without emotions getting in the way. It sounded a little cold, however, for him to refer to his marriage as following the same formula but sometimes he couldn't describe it any other way. His relationship with Lori had always been about doing what was right; what was sensible over the impulsive.

The sensitive thing would have been for him to let Lori go, for them to accept that in their heart of hearts they would never really be right for each other and learn to move on.

The sensible thing had been to marry her at the age of 23 when she wandered into the apartment he shared with Shane near the police academy and she quietly told him she was pregnant.

That had been 15 years ago.

15 years, two children, one dog and a mini van later and he'd all but forgotten about the mark that had once been on his wrist. Almost. Sometimes he wondered if Lori had just barely forgotten too or if there were days when the thought of that other person fought it's way into her brain and dug its heels in, refusing to leave for hours or days at a time.

Moments like those he wished he could say something; ask questions or just voice his concerns. But it seemed like the wrong topic to bring up with Lori ("Do you ever wonder if we would have been happier with our soulmates?" -That could never end well) and if he was perfectly honest, he didn't really have all that many friends. Shane was someone who was defaulted into the role of his best friend after having spent their entire lives together and he wasn't someone who was overly concerned with the topic of soulmates; having far too much fun living the life of the perpetual bachelor. Daryl Dixon was the closest Rick had to an actual friend, someone that he trusted and liked and not by seniority like Shane or by association like all the people he knew from Lori's social circle. But Daryl was also fiercely private, quiet and shy and judging by the awkward shuffles he did when Rick so much as glanced in the direction of his wrist, he knew the topic was off limits. He'd never actually gotten a chance to read the name there; it was short and the script was small and he never did stare long enough to make out the letters but he figured if Daryl was ever comfortable enough to speak about it, he would come out and do so on his own.

Rick was therefore faced with day after day of swallowing down the questions he had about his situation; of wondering if he'd made a mistake or not. Perhaps that might have been a bit unfair to Lori; to think of their marriage as a mistake. Lori was a good woman. She was a good mother and a good wife and they had a good life together. So like every other day when the nagging feelings in the back of his mind started hounding him, he pushed them all down and threw himself into his work, knowing he made the right decision when he caught a glimpse of the photograph sitting on his desk; a picture of him with his arm around Carl at his soccer game. Rick had chosen his family and when it came down to it, he knew he'd make the same choice all over again.

A soft knock on his office door tore him away from his thoughts and he glanced up from his desk.

"Come in."

The door creaked open to reveal Beth Greene, who was standing in his doorway looking worried and Rick immediately mimicked her features.

"Everything ok, Beth? Your dad alright?"

The truth was, with Shawn married and Maggie living in Atlanta most of the week for school, Rick worried about Beth and Hershel; all alone on that farm after Annette's death.

"Daddy's doing just fine," Beth answered sending him a hesitant smile. "I was actually wondering if I could ask you something; a favor."

Rick frowned but ushered her into his office. "Of course. Sit down."

"It's about..." she sighed and fiddled with the bracelets at her wrist, refusing to meet his eye. "that man at the party yesterday. Daryl?" She finally looked up at him when she spoke the name and Rick nodded his head slowly, trying to follow along.

"Yeah, what about him?"

"I was wondering if you knew where I could find him," she said it all in one breath, as if afraid she'd lose her nerve.

Rick stared at her in confusion for what could have been a solid ten minutes; he honestly couldn't tell at that point, his mind far too busy trying to wrap itself around what Beth Greene could possibly want from Daryl Dixon.

"Is there something you need?...Something I can help with?" He finished hesitantly.

"I just wanted to talk to him."

"Car problems?" He tried to rationalize. Mostly everyone in town knew Daryl was a mechanic; Rick began guessing that perhaps Beth needed his help with the used Toyota she'd bought the summer before. That would certainly explain away the oddity of it all; but she was already shaking her head and looking at him strangely.

"No. I just..." she sighed and pursed her lips as if she was already revealing too much information. "It's...personal."

Rick would be lying if he said his stomach didn't drop at those words and the thousands of scenarios that ran through his mind; most of them ending with Hershel running Daryl off his farm with a shot gun in hand. He'd known Daryl Dixon for a long time. He knew he was a quiet, grumpy sort of fellow but with a good heart and always good intentions. As far as Rick knew, Daryl didn't even know the youngest Greene daughter and yet Beth had walked into his office speaking so secretively that Rick couldn't help but wonder if maybe he'd missed something entirely; Lori was always accusing him of things going over his head.

Beth was young and pretty, Daryl had the whole strong, silent thing going for him; and in such a small town far more scandalous things had happened that the idea of the sweet farmer's daughter and the rough redneck having a fling really didn't seem that farfetched to Rick's mind. Maybe it didn't even go that far. Maybe Beth was just harboring a crush for the older man or maybe, he reasoned, it could be nothing at all and he was just imagining the inflection and the nervousness Beth spoke with; as if she'd been caught doing something wrong. Whether or not he was right, he'd be damned if he was going to play any part in leading Beth to a man twice her age who barely spoke above grunts and monosyllables -even if he was his best friend. After all, he'd have Hershel to answer to.

"Beth, I don't know that that's a good idea. Your father-"

"I'm not a child, Rick. I'm nearly twenty years old; I don't need my dad's permission for everything and-" she cut herself off and continued playing with her bracelets a little more aggressively than before, before decidedly slipping them off one at a time and tossing them onto his desk with a loud clanking of beads.

"I need to talk to him," she said when the final bracelet was off and she held out her wrist for him to see. The first thing his eyes landed on was the jagged scar across her wrist that made his heart ache a little at what Lori had told him she'd found when she'd managed to break Beth's bathroom door open nearly 4 years ago. But then his eyes landed on the name and even upside down he could read it perfectly.

"Beth..." he whispered, more than a little incredulously as what all this meant slowly hit him. Daryl. Of all the names in the world, there in a messy tilted scrawl, was Daryl's name. It'd been so long since he himself had looked to his wrist and seen a name, he'd nearly forgotten what it was all about. Of course, he still didn't really know the feeling of it, of finding them or being around them, but seeing Daryl's name on the porcelain skin of a girl he'd known her whole life knocked the wind out of him a little, if he was being honest. Beth with Daryl. He suddenly felt as if he needed to reevaluate everything he thought he knew about his friend. If Beth's name was the one he never could get a chance to read on him, that is.

"It may not be him," he said gently. He didn't really know if he was saying it to Beth or to himself. Somewhere in his mind that seemed like a real possibility; he couldn't think of two people that were less alike.

"It's him," Beth responded quietly, eyes trained on the top of his desk as she pushed around the discarded beaded bracelets. "I saw his mark last night at Judy's party. Before he...ran away."

"So he knows?"

She nodded in response.

Not two minutes prior, he'd decided to refuse Beth any information about Daryl for the sake of propriety. If it was a one sided crush or a mutual attraction, he'd wanted to save everyone any uncomfortable confrontations (mainly with Hershel Greene) later on. Now, with Beth staring at him with wide blue eyes and an expression on her face that made Rick feel like he had just kicked Bambi, he had definitely reconsidered.

With a sigh he reached over and grabbed a pad of paper and a pen, and he genuinely didn't know if he was doing more harm or good since he was thoroughly misinformed about the science of soulmates. Were they supposed to find each other by chance? Was he supposed to be helping? Was he meddling with the universe's divine plan or whatever it was that was the power at work that brought soulmates together?

He continued writing an address on the piece of paper, deciding that whatever forces made two people come together, Beth and Daryl would need all of them at work.

Beth Greene: with all her sunshine smiles and sweetness -the girl literally baked sweets for a living and the thought of some of that rubbing off on a surly Daryl Dixon made him start, just slightly so, seeing the sense in the two.

"He works at this car shop downtown; he should be there today until 6 or 7."

Beth eagerly took the piece of paper from him with a 'thanks' and started standing.

"If you could not mention this to anyone for a little while, I'd really appreciate it," she said half way through the door. "I just wanna get to know him first," she gave him a small smile and Rick couldn't help but return it.