Here We Remain

by: FrankieLouWho

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Promise.

3

Daryl hadn't slept so heavily, so restfully in months. The exhaustion of the past days, probably since the night before the Big Spot run, he'd been running on adrenoline. It wasn't like it was easy to sleep after that. Losing Zach, the weird moment he'd had with Beth in her cell after delivering the news... The next morning, that geeky kid with the glasses had died and turned and massacred cell block C. And after that, Daryl had gone on the road with Michonne, Bob, and Tyreese. God, there was so much shit going on before the Governor came and interrupted their world. It wasn't peaceful, but the tenuous stability they'd had in the prison was monumental to Daryl. Keeping everyone together, and alive, had been the most important thing to him and to Rick. They had their silent kind of agreement, long ago, and on one sunny afternoon, it was all trashed.

Sighing, Daryl reached both hands to scrub the sleep from his eyes, but realized that something was pinning his right wrist to the bed. There was a split second of confusion before his heart began to pound in his chest, and his breath came in short pants. Dragging his panicked eyes to the limb, he saw the tiny pale hand of Beth Greene wrapped around him. She was asleep; he heard the even, light breathing and found her eyes shut and her lips parted. Maybe she'd reached for him in her sleep, needing some kind of tangible comfort - but it didn't negate the fact that Daryl wasn't comfortable with the contact. Gracelessly, he yanked his hand from her grasp and flew from the bed, across the cabin to the opposite end. He watched her sleeping form as he caught his breath.

Damn, but that girl was going to be the death of him.

They were fairly well protected out in the secluded Georgia wilderness. Daryl hadn't seen a walker near the property in the days that they had spent there, but suspicion and paranoia were two heavily embedded feelings in his bones. It was only a matter of time before something happened here to shake their feelings of comfort. It was only ever a matter of time, these days. Shaking his head and running a hand through is greasy brown locks, the redneck took stock of their situation. He'd been trying not to for the past few days, hoping against all odds that they would be reunited with their people before he had to make any kind of a plan. It had been five days - he couldn't sit here, playing house with the little girl, waiting, forever.

Daryl traipsed to the front porch, sitting in one of the old, creaking rocking chairs that flanked the door. It was peaceful and quiet outside, the sound of animals - maybe walkers, too - crunching over the ground and disturbing the leaves in trees overhead. Immediately, he felt the tension ease out of his shoulders and the fire that burned around his wrist, making it feel as though Beth was still clinging to him, started to dissipate. Simply being outdoors was always soothing to him. Less trapped.

They needed to move on. There wasn't much in any direction - Daryl had been miles around in every direction, and they weren't too far from the prison still. If it wasn't overrun with walkers, he would have considered going in and ransacking their supplies. They'd had enough to feed themselves and the Woodbury folks, they had water... Frustration tinged his thoughts as he invisioned all of the walkers he'd seen, ambling around their home. Their fucking home.

They needed a vehicle, gasoline, and some supplies to keep them on the road until they found something - or someone. Their people. Beth's words reverberated in his mind, accusing him again. That was how it always was - Daryl knew that he brought it on himself. If he opened up and spoke his mind, if he let people in, Beth wouldn't have said those things. But it was impossible. Letting people in meant pain, meant getting hurt - and hadn't he had enough of that in his life? Shaking his head, loathing his self-pity, he refocused his thoughts on what needed to be done. That was his expertise.

They'd go today. Taking the girl to the prison wasn't high up on his list of ideal activities. She wasn't a fighter, wasn't strong and aggressive like Maggie. She was rarely put into danger, if it could be avoided, it was. But it was too damn bad - getting stuck with him meant she'd have to man up. There was no avoiding a fight with Daryl Dixon. He was a man that attacked things head on, and Beth was going to have to adjust her delicate sensibilities if she was meant to survive with him. He wouldn't throw her in to the walkers, but he wasn't going to keep her tucked away. He needed help, and Daryl knew that they both wanted the same thing. She'd have to help him if they were going to do this.

Decision made, Daryl stood and headed back into the cabin, finding Beth puttering around the small kitchen as she made a small breakfast for them with what they had. Sharing cans of soup and eating stale granola bars was keeping them together now. She gave him a weak smile, cheeks rapidly turning pink, and Daryl smirked as he took the offered food. He flopped onto the couch, digging in to the luke-warm soup - Italian Wedding, judging by the contents - and pretended not to feel Beth's dark-blue gaze sweep over him. She was doing that a lot more, and it was unsettling. Something in her eyes made him uneasy. Daryl suspected that she saw far more than any of them had given her credit for.

Once he finished his soup, ignoring the distate as he needed the sustenance, he wiped a hand over the back of his mouth and glanced to Beth. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, sipping her breakfast and watching him over the rim of the bowl. Daryl resisted the urge to chastise her - another fight, more tears, possibly more of that hugging business... He didn't have the time or the patience for that today. Instead, he swallowed the mean urge to ask her if she liked what she saw, or another igniting statement to get her to look away, and willed his usually tough demeanor to soften, just a fraction, to speak with her civilly. He might have gotten a good night's sleep, but that didn't mean he wasn't aggrivated.

"So, I was thinkin', and you were right." Daryl inwardly grimaced at his choice of words, especially when a shocked expression changed her face. Eyebrows raised, mouth open, Beth Greene blinked a few times and he took advantage of her silence and went on. "We should leave. We need to go to the prison, get a vehicle. Maybe try to get in and get supplies... Place is pretty run-over, lotta walkers. But we have to chance it."

Beth's jaw hinged, and her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth as she thought it over. For some reason, Daryl liked the way she chewed her lips when she was anxious and thoughtful.

"I was right?" Beth asked, flicking her gaze back to Daryl. He rolled his eyes and nodded, reluctantly. A big smile spread over her face, lighting up her eyes, and for a moment he was rendered breathless. "Ok. We'll need to get as much ammo and more knives. Just in case. There's lots of food, we'll have to get that too..." She trailed off, and Daryl could practically hear the cogs turning in her brain. Quickly, she jumped up from the bed and threw her empty bowl in the sink and began to pull on her boots. Satisfied with her reaction - a little surprised as well, as Daryl had imagined that she wouldn't be so eager to throw herself into danger's open arms, he stood and put his empty dish away as well.

For a moment, Daryl realized that the petite blonde was a different person. He thought he knew Beth Greene, in the vague way that you know a person you live with. Like a roommate. He always counted on her sweet, sunny smiles, her high, pretty singing voice. She was kind, she was sheltered. But this Beth was much, much more than he had anticipated. She wasn't shying away from the fight that she had to know was coming. Aside from the previous day, she had only showed him a tough exterior, and Daryl was relieved to find it back in place. Shaking off his pleased surprise, he grabbed his bow from it's place near the door. Beth was tucking her pistol into the waistband of her dirty jeans, giving him a brief glimpse of the smooth pale skin of her lower back.

"Ya ready?" he asked. Beth nodded. "Let's go, then."

The sun was scorching today, and Beth swiped a hand over her forehead as sweat beaded her skin. She was going to get a burn today, but it was the least of her worries as she stood at the edge of the tree-line beside Daryl. It was hard to fathom what her eyes were seeing. The prison-yard had been filled with walkers when they first found it, but between the group they had been dispatched in a matter of minutes. The memory of that night, sitting around the campfire with her family, protected by the fences, was a good one. One of the best.

Now, in the bright sunlight, the number of walkers was astonishing. Beth couldn't help the surprised gasp at the sight - Daryl had given her a look of agreement. It wasn't easy for either of them to see. The tank was up by the stone walls, having plowed through the security fences, and the wide opening of twisted and broken chainlink was a big open door invitation to the dead. There had to be hundreds. Beth swallowed hard against the lump in her throat - it was as terrifying as it was sad. She sensed Daryl stiffen beside her as her eyes welled up with burning tears. Her knuckles gripped the big knife in her hand until they turned white, and she glanced at him.

"I want to kill everything." The hard edge to her voice was foreign to her ears, but Daryl just nodded his agreement.

"The very least, we gotta get my bike." Daryl pointed towards the Triumph, parked inside the fences. Beth blinked against the angry tears in her eyes until her vision no longer swam. The fire burning in her belly was good - she held onto it, knowing that it would cancel out the intense fear swimming in her veins. Adrenoline was pumping through her as well, and she shifted uncomfortably as Daryl spoke to her lowly. "Gotta take out as many as we can. If it seems like we can get inside, we do it. Ain't gon' be easy, girl."

"I know," Beth said, nodding. She knew it wasn't a jab at her - she tried to reassure him that she could do this, even if her inner-voice was colored with insecurity. Taking a deep breath, she started towards the prison, but Daryl's strong grip on her arm stopped as well as surprised her.

"The hell ya doin'?" Daryl asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"Um, going to the prison?" Beth replied, taken aback.

Daryl harrumphed and shook his head, drawing his bow in front of him. "Damn girl, can't just run in like that. Gotta go slow."

"We should cover ourselves in walker-blood. Like Rick and Glenn did." Beth perked up at her idea. "It'll be easier to get in undetected."

Daryl gave her a surprised smile but nodded. Glancing around, Beth saw the moment his eyes landed on the woman walker. She was a few feet away, but it was obvious that she wasn't a fighter. Half-naked and covered in black, dried blood, missing an arm, she was an easy target. He raised his bow and Beth watched the muscles in his arms as he lined the shot and took it. She didn't need to see the bolt land in the walker's head - as sure as the day was long, Beth knew he'd gotten it. Together, they jogged to the body and dragged it back to the tree-line. In the handful of days they'd been at the cabin, Beth had enjoyed the lack of walkers. The sound, the smell, the fear. Hovering over the dead body, she began to question the 'genius' idea she'd had. She didn't want to touch it.

"C'mon," Daryl said. She missed the mischevious twinkle in his eye before he reached into the decayed corpse, slinging guts and blood over the front of her. Beth gasped and froze, her eyes glancing down her body and mouth twisting in disgust.

"You - did you -" She couldn't even get the words out. Nostrils flaring, she reached in blindly with both hands and dragged the warm innards of the walker onto Daryl's chest. She ignored the hard muscles beneath her hands as she smeared blood and guts over his body.

"Think you're cute, huh?" Daryl asked. Somehow, in the mad world they lived in, he was laughing as he went back in to cover her again. It was like a food fight, both of them trying to get the other back and laughing. It was wrong, and disgusting, but Beth was having fun. Fun with walker guts. She never thought she'd see the day.

Once they were both satisfactorily covered in blood and guts, their laughter dying off, Beth wiped her hands on the grass and found her knife again. Sobering up, the two turned towards the prison and examined the perimeter.

"We go slow," Daryl instructed. He was back into hunter mode, and his blue eyes were bright with strategy. "You think one of them is starting to get a whiff of us, starts ta notice us, you kill it."

"What if they all turn on us?" Beth asked in a small, worried voice.

Daryl's gaze locked with her's. Blue on blue. Beth felt her heart begin to pick up, and she suspected that it had nothing to do with the impending danger they were facing. He frowned down at her, quirking his lips back and forth, before nodding. "They start to turn on us, ya run. Run as fast and far as 'em chicken legs will carry ya."

"I do not have chicken legs," Beth argued, feeling fire spark in her belly again.

"Don't remind me," Daryl muttered, before shaking his head and starting up towards the prison determinedly.

Steeling herself with a deep breath, knife poised in her fist, Beth followed. They the distance quickly, but once they reached the first clump of walkers, Daryl's pace slowed and he crept around. Beth intimidated him, knees bent and eyes flicking all around them. She felt jerky and her breath was coming in quick pants. She was on edge, anxiety blooming in her chest. She had always counted on Daryl to protect them, but knew that in this situation she would have to worry about herself. The group had no hope of surviving without a few key people - Beth was not one of them. Daryl Dixon, however, was.

It was funny how clarity sometimes came at the very worst moments. Beth's eyes focused on the back of his dark head, and she realized that she would do whatever it took to keep the man alive. While her father had been their moral compass, their spiritual guide, Daryl was the muscle and survivalist. He had managed to get them through so many situations, put his neck on the line for them countless times. If it meant that he would get out free, get to her sister and Glenn, Rick and Carl and the rest of them - Beth would sacrifice herself. The sudden realization made her pause, but she shook her head quickly and kept on.

The plan seemed to be working. None of the walkers were paying attention to them - Beth tried not to think about the gunk clinging to her clothes, probably soaking in to her skin. It was just too gross. They were making good time, winding their way through the crowd, and Beth felt an inner victory as they ducked into their old cell block. There were only a few walkers within. Daryl glanced back at her, blue eyes piercing and a small smirk on his lips, as he nodded towards their food rations. Untouched, sitting in one corner.

Beth beamed at the older man. They were inside, they had gotten to their food, and only four walkers stood in their way. Turning her back on Daryl, Beth lunged at the nearest undead and sank her knife into it's temple. She jerked it out, blade dripping onto the concrete floor. She heard the trigger of Daryl's bow as it sent an arrow, and Beth turned to the next roamer. It turned to her, extremely slow, it's hands outstretched and reaching for her. Lip curling in disgust, Beth flung herself at the walker, tackling it down to the ground. It was weak, it hadn't fed in a long time, and she used that to her advantage. Sinking her blade into an eye socket, she felt the body go limp between her thighs. She took a moment to catch her breath, staring at the walker and wiping a hand over her sweaty forehead. She heard Daryl clear his throat, and glanced up in surprise. He was watching her.

"Gettin' decent with that thang," he said, nodding to indicate her knife. Beth shrugged.

"That or death, right?" she asked with a quick shrug. Daryl offered a hand and pulled her up, and the two gazed at each other. There was a spark of something - Beth couldn't identify it - between them, and while she was curious, Daryl seemed quick to dismiss. He broke away from her, dropping her hand like it burned him, and set to securing the large, dark room. The slant of sunlight coming from the skylights did little to illuminate the familiar room. Beth spun around, glancing into the block. The door was flung open, and she was surprised to find it empty.

Taking a breath and steadying herself, Beth stepped into her former home. The thought that she was entering a tomb crossed her mind, but did not stop her.