It was a short internship. She was tired of working as a farmhand, and the sherrif told her they needed some extra help at the office, so she took the job with an eager hand. The people that strolled around the department each day became more than just a vessel for small talk, she began to feel famaliarity with all the faces she saw there.

Except him, something about his intimidating stature and scowl he kept on his face kept her away from him. She felt curiousity creep up on her, and on occasion, a question would slip out of her mouth.

"Who's he?" She whispered, her fingers wrapped around a Starbucks cup.

"Daryl Dixon. Got hired, something about community service. Odd fellow."

"I don't know. He seems... interesting." Tracy trailed in, speaking casually.

"Of course you find him interesting, Tracy." Martin teased.

One of the officers stalked in, Daryl not far behind. His features signaled annoyance, while Daryl's signature scowl stayed plastered his face. The officer shooed everybody out of the room except Beth and Daryl, slammed the door, and scanned the room. His eyes fell on Beth, and with a shrugg and an eye roll, he pointed to her.

"Okay, shithead. See the blonde right there? She'll be your partner for this case. If you do not get this right, I will make sure you end up in the same goddamn cell your brother's in." The officer's eyes flickered between Daryl and Beth.

The officer turned to her. "Ya' hear me, blondie? Shithead right here will give you all the riveting details."

Beth's eyes widened. "But sir, I... can't. I just sort paper-"

"You're speaking into null ears, sweets. You better address that with your new partner!"

He rolled his eyes, and the left the room with the slam of the door.

"Well..." Beth rubbed the back of her neck, awkwardly. "I guess we're partners now."

"Partners my ass. Follow me." His husked voice was almost inaudible, and the clause was sardonically said.

He led her out of the staff room, mazing her way through cubicles and stacks of paper, she followed obediently. She was hesitant as he approached the exit.

"Where are you taking me?" Beth halted, asking with slight worry.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Jus' follow me."

Piercing night air brushed hair into her eyes, and she felt goosebumps run down her arms. A slight shiver came over her, and she began to worry.

He stood still at a rusted motorcycle, gesturing her on to ripped leather seat, as he adjusted a helmet on his head.

"What the hell is this?" Beth crossed her arms.

He rolled his eyes. "Get on."

"No. I don't even know you. I have to get home, anyway."

As she turned to leave, he spoke.

"It's for the case. You'll be fired if you don' come." He spoke condescendingly, raising his eyebrows for added insult.

Maggie's face flashed in her head. The scolding would be endless if Maggie found out. A countless number of voices told her to run, but in the back of her mind, an miniscule "screw it" could be heard.

She shrugged her shoulders, and approached the bike hesitantly. He nodded his head, and let out a sigh as he positioned himself on the bike.

"Well, it's not like a horse, that's for sure." She murmured as she lowered herself onto the seat.

He spoke gravily, his voice muffled by the helmet. "Hold on."

She rolled her eyes as the engine growled rustily. His foot slammed on the pedal, and she let out terrified scream. She hugged his body, her face pressed to the back. He felt a smirk shape his lips, as he felt her arms clamp shut around him. She breathed in, smelling the gasoline and ciggerate smoke that clung to his clothes. He rode as if they were flying, snaking through turns and speeding through roads. Her grip loosened, and she stared in wonder at the blurred lights that flew by. Her hair powered by the piercing wind, she closed her eyes. Minutes passed by like seconds, until she felt the bike slow into a stop.

"We're here." He mumbled as he stepped of the bike.

She got off dizzily, steadying herself slowly, with her arms spread out. She lifted her head and stared at her surroundings, her eyes widening when she read the flickering luminscent sign.

"You brought me to a biker bar?" She glared at him, her expression ripe with anger.

He stared back, casually, as he let a ciggerate hang from his mouth.

"What the hell is going on?"

"You wanna keep your job or not?" He rolled his eyes.

She arched her eyebrows, perplexed.

"It's for the case." He continued, annoyed. "Now you wanna keep your job or not, Marilyn?" He shrugged the words out with a sarcastic touch, and began trudging to the entrance.

She stood still, angrily, for a few seconds, then shouted for to him to wait.

"Wait!" Her voice cracked from hesitance.

He smirked, then watched her catch up to him. He stopped at the door, and uttered a profanity.

"How old are ya'?" He said, sorely, looking into the bar.

"20." She whispered with reluctance, rubbing the back of her neck.

Truth be told, she had just hit 19, but lying, oddly, felt appealing at that moment.

"Shit. You have an id on you?"

She grabbed her pocket, nervously, and sighed.

"No."

"Don't say anythin'. Let me handle em', okay?" He husked, pushing the door open bitterly.

The overwhelming smell of cheep beer and car engines filled her nose, gaging at the smell, she looked confused at Daryl's unfazed expression.

Her face turned a deep crimson. All of the rugged men in the bar turned towards her, followed by rusted guffaws and hoots.

"Ain't she a pretty one!" A drunken male voice drawled from the corner.

The voice approached them, and Daryl felt anger began to creep in his mind.

"Why, baby brother?! Is that you?" The older man inched drunkenly to Daryl, chuckles leaving his throat.

"I thought they locked you up." Daryl uttered, with sore annoyance.

"Never mind that, Darylina, you caught yourself a looker!" Merle winked at Beth, in guffaw at her crimson cheeks.

"A pretty little lamb, she is." Merle eyes flickered to Beth's face. "But ain't she a little too young for ya', baby brother?"

"What the hell am I doing here?!" Beth eyed Daryl angrily.

Merle winked, messily. "O, so you like em' fiesty?"

"Fuck off, Merle." Daryl stared daggers at Merle's drunken expression.

"Wooahhh there, Darylina, I'm leavin'. No need to get your panties ina twist." Merle let out a chuckle, stumbling back into the darkness he came from.

Daryl stalked to one of the lit stools at the other side of the bar, a perplexed and furious Beth on his heels.

"You better tell me what's going on here, or I'm leaving." Beth spoke, angrily.

Daryl let out a frustrated shrugg, turning toward her.

"I'm workin' on a prostitution bust. Almost all the guys here are known for their little rendezvous with the night walkers and shit. You're gonna help catch em'."

Beth stuttered out an "oh", and adjusted her hoodie, nervously.

"Daryl, I...I mean sir, or...uhh... Mr, I just got out of high school, and I'm only an intern. I don't think I'm right for this."

"Trust me, I don' think ya' are either. But the office appointed you, so I... I mean you, can't do shit." Daryl continued his walk to the side bar, the ciggerate still hanging from his lip, slightly muffling his speech.

Beth followed with hesitance, settling herself nervously next to him. The stool was uncomfortable, and she fidgeted in her seat.

"Religious?" He stared at the cross bracelet wrapped around her wrist.

"Used to be." Beth shrugged her shoulders.

"Why ya' still wear it then?" Daryl didn't know why, as he sat with the girl he found so perplexing, he was as talkative as he was.

"It was a gift from my mom." Beth tilted her head, amused. "Didn't know Daryl Dixon was the intrusive type."

"Didn't know I was either." Daryl murmered, flicking his battered ciggarette into a trash can. "She dead?" Daryl asked, a scowl twisting Beth's face at the question.

"How did you know?" Beth shook her head, looking him square in the eye for the first time.

"I know a thing or two about dead moms." Daryl husked in a mumble.

A bartender eyed Daryl from across the room, a grin on his lips when he saw the blond beside him.

"I stopped believin' a long time ago." Beth stared at the cracked leather bracelet.

Daryl smirked, finding the lose of faith familiar. "Me too."

"I'm going to assume the reason you lost faith is the same as mine." Beth picked at the plastic seat covering.

"Nah. Merle was the religious one. I just stood by and said my prayers. I had a little bit of faith. Lost it when I realized that nobody gives a shit."

Beth shrugged. She stared at him, with his peculiar qualities, his lively blue eyes that confused his dark personality.

"I was religious to the point of irritation. Then my... my mom died, and I sort of stopped caring. Heaven or hell, wherever I went, I didn't care."

"I'm assuming it was your carelessness that got you that." Daryl stared at the jagged scar across her wrist.

Beth gave him a confused look then stared at her wrist. "Oh. That." She turned a subtle crimson and covered the scar with her bracelet.

"I guess."

"No need to cover it. Scars remind us of who we are sometimes." He said.

And for the first time in what felt forever, Beth felt a real smile grace her lips.