They spent hours in Douglas' office. A square room on the top floor of a two storey apartment building. It looked like a nursing home and had become the base of operations for the guards and the safe zone leaders. Rick spent a lot of time here. Beth wished he was here now. Instead, they remained inside the room with a guard stationed outside. Through the small window that overlooked the south wall, Beth could see the sun descending, though she could almost swear it was night already as the clouds above grew darker and more menacing. The room that acted as their prison was alot like the man to whom it belonged. Everything was organised, every book uniform in size and order, every map or loose paper stacked neatly atop the desk that gave little indiction to who Douglas was. He was a man who didn't show much of what lay behind his formal manner. Always playing the part of a composed mediator. A leader who didnt want to believe there could be trouble behind these walls. Maybe that was why he left no trace of his own life in a place like this, where he spent most days and nights.

No photos of his family, no novels, not even a name plaque. Sterile white walls. Sterile white floor. The only feature to the room were Beth and Noah, handcuffed to the chairs that faced the desk. They'd been led in and told to wait an hour ago. Beth had been watching the clock. Time was a luxury she'd long since needed, but since Grady, her regard for clocks was somewhat changed. Time was important when you needed to escape.

Noah kept staring at her. She knew why. The throbbing pain around her right eye told her she was bruised, her cheek bone aching everytime she dared to let her fingers touch the swollen skin. There weren't any mirrors in the room but Beth wouldn't be surprised if she had a black eye. The thought made her smile. Daryl was usually the one with a black eye or some other painful bruising on his face. He never seemed to notice and Beth took comfort in knowing she wouldn't be the only one to ignore the pain.

"Beth hows the.. You look fine. Good. You should have seen her face..."

Noah began, stopping when she smirked at him, suddenly unable to to resist the need to laugh. She wasn't sure why but that moment seemed hilarious in some unnamed way. Noah broke his confused frown with a wide smile, chuckling. Beth felt young again. Sure her face hurt when she smiled and her lip bled as she laughed, but she wasn't scared anymore. She was proud of herself. Beth had stepped in and taken a stand. She fought back even when her chances of winning the fight were slim. The girl had slandered her group, had called Daryl... Noah was right. The other girls face was bad. A broken nose was serious, and Beth was sure she might have knocked a tooth lose, and as for her finger... The fight was a blur but she remembered the crack of bone and saw the cuts on her knuckles, still bleeding. Still tasted the blood lingering in her mouth.

"For what it's worth, you did the right thing... I'm with you on this," Noah's words were firm and honest and she slipped her hand in his, so glad shed taken a bullet for him. So glad he was here.

When Douglas finally decided to end their wait and show up, he wasn't alone. Maggie was there, expression dark, cheeks tinted red from the walk here. Beth suddenly felt guilty. Her sister wasn't having an easy pregnancy. Walking tired her and this was the time when she usually slept. Maggie didn't let the fatigue show. The moment she saw the handcuffs and Beth's face she began yelling and Douglas seemed all too understanding, freeing Beth instantly, apologising. Maggie demanded to hear the story and looked to Beth, who refused to speak. She didn't want to cause trouble, her fight was her business. Her sister looked more shocked than angry at Beth's silence, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder, trying to study the bruising on her face. When Noah told the story of what had occurred, Maggie shot a warning glare at Douglas who insisted there would be a full investigation. It was Beth who silenced them by insisting they let it go. She didn't want to drag this out, she'd proven what she needed to prove. No doubt the girl would be keen on revenge but if this became anything more than it already was, it might cause tension between her group and the people here. Beth wasn't ready to be the reason for more violence. All she wanted was to get free of her handcuffs and drown her face in the snow outside. The pain was numbing and the room was suffocating. Freedom was all she longed for. Looking toward the window, she could almost see over the wall, noticing the familiar trees that surrounded the park, far off toward the distant city. How far away that sanctuary seemed. That little shack that felt like home. Beth had left a piece of herself there, nestled by the open fire. Lingering in the embers of what had once burnt so bright. A fire kindled by two souls, torn apart by what lay outside of their safe haven. Whatever force had drawn them apart, Beth knew she couldn't move on without mending what was broken. She would rather find a friend in Daryl than let him become a stranger. It didn't matter how much her heart might break every moment she spent with a man who couldn't be hers. Right now, she needed him, and he needed her. Maybe with him beside her, Beth could try and find a way to settle in this new life. This was her last attempt. Her last fight for him. The last time.

...

Nights were colder as winter settled in. While the day had been blessed with a brief spell of sunshine, the night was cursed with cold winds and heavy snow. It might have been unbearable to stay outside had the guards not brought firewood to every house, risking the use of most of the wood stockpile for fear of death. No one here had died in a while and they were keen on keeping everyone alive. When the guards brought Daryl a bundle of wood, he was already on his porch, cleaning his crossbow as he lost himself in his thoughts. When he noticed the wood, he knew there was no way he'd be going inside. House was too empty. He couldn't stand hearing the echo of his footsteps or the deafening silence that coursed through the empty space. Without much thought, he collected the wood and dumbed it in the silver can they'd given for trash, lighting it up. Makeshift bonfire keeping him warm enough to stay out here and avoid these silence. At least out here he could hear the wind howling and the distant trees shaking.

Thud. The knife in his hand had hit wood and got stuck. It was his way of keeping busy, playing darts with his hunting knife. He kept throwing the knife at the door to the house, his makeshift target, as he stood on the porch with his back to the world. Didn't matter who passed, he just kept aiming for the deep incision he'd carved into it. An hour throwing a knife into a door tended to leave a mark. Same way thinking of her left him cut up on the inside. Nobody hated him more than he did at that moment. He'd waited outside the church for another hour after he left last night, waited to see her leave, hidden in the shadows of the park square. He tailed her home, made sure she got inside before he went wandering through the streets, drowned in self loathing. Beth was so alone and he just watched her suffer, watched her feel isolated and unwanted. Didn't even try and apologise again, too fearful that he'd hurt her more by trying to explain why she needed to move on from whatever it was burning between then.

When Noah had passed him that afternoon, he noticed how nervous he seemed and made him talk. The kid was hesitant at first, but he was all to eager to let the secret spill. Thats why Daryl was here, attacking his door. Noah had told him about Beth being beaten down for defending him. How she had heard some big bitch calling Daryl a rapist and tried to take her down. Noah said she got some good punches in too. He might have laughed, maybe been proud of her, had she not been pounded for defending someone like him. Took a lot not to go marching over to Douglas and demand he tell him the girls name. He was good at scaring people, most folks here were shaken by him being himself. He'd make sure Beth was safe.

Then he remembered what she said. How she could take care of herself, that she was her own hero because no one came to save her... That's what led him home. He'd have gone to the shack, hunted for a while, but not without her. Not without Beth. She made the place warm and no fire could replace what she brought to that empty place. All he had of their time out there in his make shift sanctuary was the wolf tooth. He'd tied it to some string and let it hang round his neck. Always hidden beneath his shirt yet always there, pressed against his heart. He knew she'd been right. He was a lone wolf. Howling for the moon that shined so bright yet lay so out of reach.

He should be glad he'd pushed her away. He'd been saved from having to explain himself and say goodbye to how they were. The goodbye wasn't the hard part. It was what came after. The memories, the space that person left behind. Been a while now since Merle died and yet he'd never really found anything to fill that space in his life. It was almost like someone had cut a piece out of him. He bled and it hurt and no matter how much time passed, there was no fixing that missing piece. With Beth, it was harder. Harder because he wasn't missing a small piece of himself. Hell, he was broken. She wasn't just a bed warmer or some burden he felt responsible for. Beth was part of him. She saw what he was, deep down. Knew how damaged he was. Spoke to him like he was just like her. Young and lost and hoping for the best. Without her, he couldn't find that hope. Everyone he'd looked out for in the group was getting on. They found their happy endings here. For Daryl, nothing seemed to be any easier. He wanted to hit himself. Since when did he think like this? Since when did he need someone to make him survive? There was no ignoring it. He'd changed. He wasn't the man he'd once been. Being the last man standing scared him because he was too afraid to end up alone. He'd spent his life alone, abandoned, rejected and unwanted. Enough was enough. All he wanted was Beth Greene.

Frustration forced him to aim his knife again, throwing it with such force that the door creaked and he knew it had penetrated through. Yet another defect for the unloved home he'd been assigned.

"What did that door ever do to you?"

He knew he had to be imagining her voice. Was all in his head. Just like Merle had been. Hell he was losing it. Then he heard a footsteps and the creak of wood and he turned, trying not to looked shocked. There she was. Standing there on the porch steps, leaning on the railing, bathed in moonlight. He almost swore she was just another vision, another ghost of the the girl he'd failed. Then he saw the dark bruising around her right eye, saw the cut in her lip and the fading scars on her skin. This wasn't an illusion. Beth had come to him and he wasnt ready to try and send her away. In fact, he was unable to react. Unable to find a way of making this okay. Luckily, he didn't need to say anthing. Beth knew him too well. She'd been there a while, watching him attack the door with a vehemence all too familiar to her. Going to see him had been a wild need as opposed to a wise decision, but seeing him now, alone, she couldn't help but smirk as he shifted uncomfortably. Didn't matter how bad things had been, this man was always going to be her greatest weakness and she was so glad he was.

"I got a peace offering. My way of try in' to bribe you I guess... Can we just erase the last few weeks. Please."

She sounded tired, weary, as exhausted by their seperation as he was. He nodded. Clean slate was all he needed. He hated his inability to come up with the right thing to say but she seemed content with the nod, taking a step closer, the dim light from the fire making her black eye seem darker and more painful, but Beth didn't seem to notice how intently he was staring at her. She was pulling out two jars, setting them on the table by the swinging seat. Beth didn't sit, she just stared at the jars a minute, expression clouded by something he'd never seen before. Something sad and mournful that made him wanna go over and hold her. The thought made him wince. He wasn't good at this. Playing friends after everything they'd been through, after everything they'd told each other.

"What's that?" He broke the silence, eager to bring her back from where her mind had taken her. She looked up, bright blue eyes thawing out the cold that seemed to stop existing the moment she came by. The corners of her mouth twitched into a smile, "Bet you never thought they'd have this."

He gave a gruff laugh, the corners of his mouth lifting into a half smile as he took the jars from her, taking the top off the one containing the clear liquid that smelt like home.

"Moonshine and pigs feet. Red neck heaven."

Beth seemed pleased, sitting down by the rails of the porch, her back to the house, the jar of pigs feet in her hands. He wanted to ask her in, warn her against all this time out in the cold. Snow was lingering in her blonde hair and on her jacket. He'd never forgive himself if she caught the flu and almost died again. When he looked at her, she was smiling, a soft smile, looking at him expectantly. Knowing what she was waiting for, he sat beside her, careful not to get too close. Didn't matter much, soon as he was sitting she moved toward him so their legs were pressed against each other.. He told himself she did that to keep warm, but he knew he was kidding himself. When she spoke, he could feel the words emanating through him and it made him smile to himself, "Morgan kinda stole the moonshine while he was at the doctors place. He found it in the box of confiscated stuff."

"Why'd he take it?" Daryl looked at her, saw her tracing the words on the jar label. Her knuckles were cut and bruised. Took him all the energy he had not to take her hands in his. Wouldn't help heal the wounds but sometimes the best medicine ain't what you get from a doctor.

Beth remembered her time out there. Just after her memory came back. She'd told Morgan so much about Daryl, "He remembered what I told him... About when we had moonshine."

"What'd you tell him?"

Daryl didn't sound annoyed, he was curious, and Beth knew she had to be careful. The street seemed so desolate now. So empty. She felt brave enough to say anything, but the soft pressure of his body beside hers kept her footing in reality. He couldn't know why she'd clung onto that memory so tightly. Why she'd told Morgan so much about their time out there. Sighing, she shrugged, fingers lingering on the lid of the jar on her lap, "That it was my first drink... And we burnt a shack full of it."

"What's wrong?"

Beth should have known he'd hear the melancholy tone that carried her words. Truth was, she wasn't really there, on the porch. Her mind had taken her back in time to that house, that table in the kitchen. The candles were lit and he was beside her. They were alone and content and safe. Nothing was complicated. Looking up, she squinted at the stars and smiled. It was a sad smile, forced to her lips by her need to reassure him that she was okay.

"Nothing, I just... It's like nothing changed."

He nodded, looking down at the jar in his hands, all too aware of what she meant. All to aware of how she felt. If he closed his eyes he might be back there. Sat in that coffin, watching her at the piano, feeling that same pressure against his chest as he tried to understand what it was about her that drew him closer. They fell silent, both lingering in the past. He unscrewed the top of the moonshine jar and took a swig, offering it to her. Beth took a sip, wincing at the fiery sensation that burnt her throat, eager to change the subject and stop herself thinking of what was past, "How'd the search go? For the whisperers? I heard you knew about it."

He nodded, "Didn't find nothin'... Some tyre marks. Whisperers drove the hoard here. They wanna go further out, check the border. Think we might have to find the missing group."

Beth stiffened, tense, and he felt the panic racing through her. He realised too late that she was afraid for him. Afraid he'd go out there and get killed. Her eyes strayed to his face, frustrated when he failed to meet her gaze, watching his shoes. Her voice was pleading, almost desperate, when she spoke, "Your not gonna go are you? You might..."

"No. Ain't going nowhere till Rick makes a decision."

Silence followed. He didn't need to see her face to know she was frowning. To know she was upset. The moonshine was in his hands but instead of drinking, he put it aside, suddenly aware of how she might be feeling. He'd chased that car for miles when they took her. Kept searching, kept worrying. Even when she was shot and gone, thinking of her drove him close to losing everything. Maybe Beth cared more than he realised. Hell, she'd run out and tried to help him when the wall was attacked. With a sigh, he tapped her wrist with his finger, her eyes meeting his, his voice low and gruff but reassuring, "Hey, I ain't going nowhere."

Somehow, hearing him say it helped. If Rick called for his aid, she knew too well Daryl would be there in a heartbeat, but knowing he wasn't in a hurry to run away was comforting. Her wrist was warm from where his finger had met her skin and now she almost felt peaceful. Whatever she'd meant to say to him was buried away, pushed aside as the need to talk to him trumped the need to discuss change. The wind blew harder, sending her hair across her face. As she brushed it back, her fingers met the black brushing around her eye and she winced. It wasn't so painful now but she knew it was bad. Daryl noticed her discomfort, turning so his body faced hers, nodding at her cheek, "One hell of a shiner there."

"You'd know. Your usually the one with a black eye," she laughed, biting her lip as he stared at her cheek, her eyes straying from his to the street ahead of her.

"Must be why I always look so rough," he cracked, taking another swig of moonshine. It weren't giving him much courage but it felt warm and familiar, setting fire to his insides.

"You never look bad." She murmured, keeping herself from blushing as she realised he'd heard, his eyes resting on her. Beth kept her head bowed as she pretended to fix her shoelace, legs crossed, hiding the rising flush of red that tinted her cheeks.

"Lemme see"

His hand caught her chin, tilting her head back, dark blue eyes tracing the wound. Beth almost gasped but she managed to suppress the girlish response. Daryl wanted to see the injury and acting like some stupid teenage girl would only make her seem pathetic. His fingers traced her cheekbone and her skin began to tingle, as though his fingertips were burning her. A burn she longed to feel across her spine and through her every limb. She wanted his touch to encompass her body but instead she winced and feigned discomfort. The truth was, whatever pain she should have felt was non existent. A new, yearning pain had settled in her body and she tried her hardest to ignore it.

"That hurts, Dixon," she warned him, unnerved by how close her was, his knees just meeting hers.

"Gonna tell me what happened."

Beth shifted, uneasy. He wasn't sure if her discomfort was caused by his question or his thumb brushing her cheek, so he pulled away and looked at her expectantly. She sounded breathless when she finally answered, "I figured you already knew."

"I know you got into a fight, thas bout all."

"I kinda went for her."

Beth glanced up at him, biting her lip as he frowned, not waiting for him to respond as she continued, " she started saying... Things. I dunno, it made me mad and I hit her when she called me helpless. Maggie is so pissed at me. Luckily I had Noah to back me up."

Daryl nodded, looking down at her bruised knuckles. The broken skin looked red and sore, bruises darker now, tinted purple. He knew he should let it go but he couldn't help but speak his mind, "Ran into earlier."

Beth fell silent. Praying he didn't know, but when he looked up, she knew her prayer was unanswered. He knew. Instead of meeting his penetrating gaze, she studied the snow that was falling behind him. Small spectral glimmers of white streaking through the darkness.

"Doesn't matter what people say, Beth. Don't mean shit."

"I know. I just don't like it when people think they have the right to judge someone they don't know any thin' about... You may not care Daryl, but I do. I don't want people saying that kinda shit about you."

"Not worth the shiner."

Beth smiled, "I broke her nose and almost bit her finger off. A black eye ain't too bad."

When he shook his head in mock disapproval, she noticed a cord around his neck, following the length of it till she saw what it was tied to. The wolf tooth. She smiled in spite of herself, about to comment on what she'd observed when the familiar toll of the bell rang out. Her chest tight as she realised it was his shift. Daryl cursed under his breath, rising to his feet, pulling her up with him. He might have missed turning up for duty on the wall, desperate fit a chance to evade Carly and her thousand questions, but Rick was on duty and he wasn't about to let him down.

He glanced at Beth, her perfect blue eyes gazing up into his, soft lips curved into a smile as she spoke, "okay, okay, I give in. I'll walk you to the wall."

He let out a laugh, a real laugh. That seemed to make her smile, her fingers brushing past his as she descended the porch stairs. Once again, they were forced to leave the warmth and head out into the cold. Beth began to chatter about Judith and how her insides hurt from the moonshine, her words edged with an intoxicating joy that made him smirk. Her eyes never strayed far from his, save for when she glanced up at the stars and absorbed the heavens above her. With every second spent watching her, Daryl knew that as hard as life had been, nothing would be as hard as having to leave her. Having to spend the night without her there. Beth was a ghost with a heart beat, a ray of light flickering in the darkness. Watching her leave would be to put out the hope he still had of finding something to fight for. That was when he knew that he could not let her go. Not now, not ever.

...

As they neared the wall, Beth slowed, watching him sling his crossbow over his shoulder, lingering by the stockpile that hid them from the view if the guards at the gate. He rested his back against the wood, watching her with a clouded expression. Something was on his mind but he didn't feel right to ask. Walking toward him, she rolled her eyes, snow catching on her eyelashes as she looked up.

"Daryl, what's going on."

He stared down at his feet and she suppressed the urge to take his hand and bring him to look back at her. She longed to look into those eyes. Those dark eyes that made her chest tighten and her lips curve into a smile. When he was nervous, she became uneasy. Without looking up, he spoke.

"Why'd you stab her?"

Sighing, Beth tried not to relive the moment she forced those scissors into Dawn's chest. The sound of gunfire echoed through her ears. For a second, she was gone, empty. Lost in the past. Then, she heard him shift, his eyes on her, and she was back in the present. Alive. With a shrug, she murmured, "doesn't matter. Was stupid. I wasn't thinking."

"Nah, that's not you. Tell me."

"I was angry. At her. At them. Dawn used to treat me like I was weak... Then she found out I wasn't and she used me. Like I was there to do her dirty work. She didn't even stop Gorman from..." Her skin burnt where he had held her. Where his hands had rested. Her throat felt dry and somehow, the night seemed colder. She shivered, pulling her jacket closer. He noticed and tried not to hit something. Guilt coursed through him and Beth noticed that anger, unnerved when he spoke.

"Should have killed every last one..."

Reaching forward, she took his hand and scowled, gripping his fingers, "No. No, I dealt with him. The one who tried to... I killed him. I... I killed him and the others."

He noticed her hollow voice and slight shiver that traveled through her hand, bending down so he could meet her eyes, concerned, "You 'k?"

"Yeah. I just never said it out loud before. I killed someone."

He nodded. Been a long time since killing had been something's he felt bad about but he remembered that initial shock, the nausea, the guilt. He couldn't bear to know she felt that way about men who would have hurt her for their own fun. Daryl wanted to reassure her but she was staring into space, her voice small and empty, "I killed the people on the bridge. Left one for the walkers because he tried to do the same thing as Gorman... I used my bare hands..."

"M'sorry... Shouldn't have let you get taken in the first place..."

That brought her back. She glared at him, her hand gripping his tighter than he expected, heat coursing through her palm, "Daryl. Stop. I'm... I'm happy, in a way, that things worked out the way they did."

He didn't look convinced and she smiled softly, all too aware of how he was looking at her.

"If I hadn't got taken, Morgan would never be here. He needed someone. Rebecca needed to be saved. So did Ben. Things worked out for the best."

"Wasn't easy..." He wanted to tell her how he'd lost his way when she died. How much she meant to him. How dark the days had been when she was gone... But Beth knew. Why else would she look at him that way. Her voice was calm, soothing, her hand slipping out from his.

"I know... But maybe if I hadn't been gone so long, we wouldn't be the way we are now."

Nervously, he asked, "And how are we?"

She smiled, tempted to speak her mind, but the evening had been too perfect and she wasn't willing to let it slip away because of her wayward feelings. He watched her bite her lip, nervous she might answer him, although he half wished she would say it. Save him from another night of tossing and turning as he questioned everything he felt. When she opened her mouth to answer, he almost flinched. Afraid yet relieved.

"Were Good."

Maybe he should have said something. Just let her hear it and face what came next. Be a man and take that next step. Reason he didn't wasn't because he was scared. Not anymore. The reason he kept silent was because he knew he wasn't what she needed. He wasn't good enough. Too damaged. Too broken. He'd break her if he let her get too close. Looking at her there, resting against the porch, watching the snow fall, blue eyes shining in the firelight, was almost painful. He poked the fire with an arrow, wondering how he'd ever get over this. This need for everything she was. To have her there, safe, by his side. He'd protect her, whether she was his or not, but he wanted her there to protect him. From being alone, from forgetting he'd escaped the past he regretted so much. His thoughts faded as the bell tolled and he started to move, held back by her voice, uneasy and nervous.

"You said I gotta remind you of how you escaped the bad."

He nodded, glancing at her. She was pale, biting her lip hard.

"I need... I need you to remind me... That I did this."

Taking hold of his shirt, she reached up and pressed her lips to his, the silence deafening as the world ceased to exist. Her hands rested near his heart, feeling it pulsate, her lips soft against his. For a moment, she feared he might pull away, but he seemed to recover from the shock, returning with a force that almost tipped her back. He tasted like moonshine. That was how she'd recover from this. When the sun rose up and she'd start the first day of a life changed by the fact that she had kissed Daryl Dixon. If he pushed her away, if he closed her out and went back to building a wall between himself and the rest of the world, she'd blame the moonshine. She might even pretend it never happened. The idea of being rejected didn't worry her. Beth wouldn't blame him if he didn't want her. What scared her was knowing she might have destroyed everything they ever had. That this might have been the last time they spent time together. Being what they'd always been. Friends. If Daryl left again, that final support beam might break and she might lose herself to the past. To all the loss and pain and fear. She was strong but no one made it alone. No one should be alone. She didn't know if she was ready to be severed from him again but his hand on the small of her back told her she wasn't imagining anything. He was tense, of course he was, but she felt his fingers press against her back and she wished it wasn't winter, wished she wasn't wearing a jacket that kept her from feeling his skin against hers.

Daryl didn't know how it had happened but he forgot every barrier he'd ever believed lay between them, deepening the kiss, her soft lips caressing his in a way that kindled the fire burning inside of him. Beth smiled against his lips, a finger tracing his jaw as he lifted her up, never breaking the kiss. It wasn't about finding the right time or the right place. It wasn't even about whether she understood what it was that she felt or whether he understood what she needed. Beth had to find the courage to love him, and in that moment, that brief flickering second where she wandered across the line drawn between them, she knew that she was finally strong enough. Finally, she was strong enough to love someone. It didn't matter that he was damaged, that he had a whole world of problems, that he didn't always say the right words or smile at the right moments. She loved him. When you love someone, you don't overlook the broken parts. She didn't want him to think he needed to be anything else. It's not love if you expect the person to change for you. You gotta love them for who they are now, not what they might be. In Daryl, she didn't see a killer or a kid who needed saving. She saw herself, alone and broken by the past, trying to make a fresh start. Together, maybe they could make it. Build a future on a broken past. Walk away from everything that ever hurt them. When a call for Daryl came from the gate, they jumped apart. He turned to he gate, a goofy smile playing across his lips that made her suppress a laugh. He looked so young, so genuinely carefree. She didn't wait for him to turn back to her, darting away, hurrying into the shadows. Beth shivered, the cold biting at her skin, though her lips were still warm. Still burning. She smiled to herself, secretly knowing too well the fiery tingle wasn't from the moonshine.