Here We Remain

by: FrankieLouWho

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I own nothing! Sorry to those who were under the impression I was, you were somehow very mislead.

Notes: This came out kind of quickly. Not as long as I like, but at least I got something out that I don't absolutely hate. Things are shifting and changing for this pair, and I'm excited to see where this takes us. Hope you're all still with me after the long hiatus, but I promise it won't be that long again. Thank you for all the support and feedback, please let me know how you feel about this one when you're done! I try to reply to comments as much as I can, but a lot of the time when I recieve them on my phone and it's a pain in my ass. But I still try! Find me on TUMBLR at IDREAMOFFRANKIE - follow me and lets be friends and discuss conspiracy theories about the second half of season four! And other Bethyl related things!

Thanks for reading, you guys are amazing :)

4

The first thing Beth did was head to her cell. She sheathed her knife at her hip, tossing back the quilt that hung for privacy, and stepped inside. Everything was just as she had left it, completely undisturbed. Her clothing stacked in a neat pile on the desk, the 'Days Without an Accident' board counting inaccurately. Smiling sadly, she adjusted the numbers back to zero. Her journal was open on her pillow, and her sweater was hanging from the top bunk. Grabbing her knapsack, Beth quickly stuffed a clean set of clothes into it, her journal, and the Polaroid picture that Glenn had taken of herself, Maggie, and their daddy. All of them smiling and embracing for the camera. At the time, Beth had thought it was silly. Now, she held the photograph like something precious. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she ducked out of her bedroom and out into the big hall, where Daryl was waiting with a pained look on his face.

"Want me to grab some of your clothes?" Beth asked. "We're gonna want to change eventually."

Practicality won out, and Daryl nodded, leading the way up the steps to the perch and to the cell he'd claimed. It was sparse, but his belongings were there. Beth turned her back and felt him jam things into the pack, and a small smile graced her face as she heard him mutter under his breath. Together, they went back down and into the big room, where the food supplies were. There wasn't much room left in Beth's bag, but Daryl seemed intent on filling it to the brim. It hung heavy on her shoulders when he was satisfied.

"We still need ammo," Beth pointed out. "Maybe we should stay -"

"Ain't no way we're stayin' here," Daryl cut her off. The dark look in his eyes made Beth resist the urge to argue, instead nodding quickly. "We get some ammo, we're gone."

"All right," Beth said, biting her lip and nodding. She knew he was right, and that it would probably be just as painful - maybe even more - for Daryl to stay where they had lived before. It was a bad idea, she shouldn't have brought it up. But Beth felt a certain pull to the home they had shared for almost a year, not just surviving, but really living. She'd had a boyfriend, she'd grown closer to their rag-tag family. But she could understand why Daryl was anxious to leave.

She followed him back down the stairs and to rec room, where they kept a few food supplies and ammo. It would be easier than hunting through the armory, where the heavy artillery was. Beth took to the food as Daryl managed to guns and ammo and weapons - he would know much better than her, anyway. She took a few cans of food, a jug of water, and waiting near the door as Daryl put together what they would need. When he finished, he glanced up at her with a wary look. She could tell that he was almost as excited as she was to face the walkers again.

"Gotta get to the bike," Daryl grunted, and Beth nodded again. She could follow his directions without argument - wasn't like she had any better ideas. Following him had kept them all alive for a while - he was a survivor. Like her sister, like Rick, like Michonne - some people were simply built differently, programmed better, than people like Beth. Maybe not better, she reasoned with herself. Just better at certain things. Daryl could take care of himself, alone in the woods. He could probably do it better alone, but it was obvious that he had no intentions of leaving her behind. He wanted her to pull her weight, sure - but Beth knew that he felt responsible for her. Probably saw her as some helpless little girl. Shaking her head, Beth watched him pull open the door, peeking out to the over-run prison yard.

"Bikes over there, by the fence. Can you manage all that and your knife?" Daryl asked, pointing his crossbow to her bursting knapsack. She nodded solemnly, eyes big as she watched him.

"All right. We're gonna run this time - I don't like the idea of letting them get close enough to touch you," Daryl admitted, and Beth had to smile softly at his worrying.

"I'm real fast," Beth said, beaming at him proudly. "Ran track in high school."

"I bet," Daryl muttered under his breath, and Beth realized he was taking in her long legs. Even in a pair of ratty old jeans - he was checking her out. For some reason, Beth felt a heat sweep the length of her body, settling in her pelvis. She resisted the urge to groan. What the heck was wrong with her? Now was not the time.

The only warning she had was Daryl shoving the door open, and then she was sprinting in the direction he pointed. She dodged quickly around the walkers, praying that he was moving as fast and nimbly as herself. It wasn't long before the bike was in her sight - a flutter of hope sprang in her heart, giving her another burst of energy, legs scissoring like a blur. It was only the surprised shout from behind her that made Beth pause - she twisted around, knocking into a walker that was reaching for her, groaning pathetically. She shoved it away, tumbling it to the ground. Feebly, it tried to get back on it's feet.

Beth's eyes sought Daryl, and she made a distressed noise when she saw him fighting off the walker. It was a big one, had been a large person when it was alive. It's fat rolls were bloated, pale, discolored in other places, and there were bits of flesh and blood hanging from it's mouth and stuck in his chest hair. Grimacing, Beth double back and raised her hunting knife, clutched in her white-knuckled fist. Maybe with too much gusto, Beth pierced it's brain, letting out a shriek of anger. It went limp, and Daryl was pushing the corpse away from him. Beth offered him a hand to pull him up.

"You bit?" she asked, and he shook his head quickly. There was something in his blue gaze that Beth couldn't decipher, but she shook the thought off before turning and running. She was still holding his hand, fingers lacing together as she yanked him behind her. Beth didn't want to chance letting go of him, not when they could get seperated and ambushed. In a matter of seconds, they were reaching the bike. Daryl panted but threw a leg over the bike. Beth followed his lead, adjusting her bag and pulling her legs up as he cranked the engine. The roar was deafening - Beth had forgotten how loud it was. Every walker turned in their direction, smelling and hearing them.

"Go! Go!" Beth cried, curling around Daryl. They were growing closer. The sun was hot on her golden hair and arms as Daryl rode them away from the prison, circling the yard before rushing through the broken fence. He got them to the road before he really hit the gas, flying them far and away. Beth was too amped up to feel the relief of getting in and out, without any bloodshed. However, she felt Daryl's tense muscles relax as she gripped him, and for some reason, her body seemed to follow his lead. She turned her head, watching the back of his head as they sped down the abandoned lane. They'd made it.

Back at the cabin, later that night, Beth was passed out on the bed and Daryl was sitting on the couch. He'd kept his distance, kept quiet, the rest of the day. Didn't know what to say to her - she acted as though nothing was out of the ordinary, but Daryl could feel that something had shifted between them. Maybe he was losing his damn mind - would make sense that he would finally break. However, glancing at Beth's small, sleeping form under the blankets on the bed, he knew he had to keep it together. At least for her.

It was hard, however. That afternoon at the prison, it felt like he was stepping into a tomb. Felt like there had been too much death, too much blood spilled, to be comfortable there. There were too many memories of people that no longer breathed, no longer lived, for Daryl to be at ease. He'd wanted to get in, get out. When Beth made her way straight to her cell, walking down the floors that they had lived in for almost a year, it was the strangest thing. Strange, because it felt so normal. But stranger because none of the people that they had shared this home with were there. It was empty, and quiet. It felt cold to him.

The thing that was really bothering him, though, was Beth. Well, not so much Beth, but her reaction to what had happened to him. When the walker knocked him down, got him on his back, Daryl hadn't been worried. He knew he would wrangle out of it, get himself out of the situation just like he always did. Sheer dumb luck was mostly to blame, but sometimes Daryl could pull a move out of his ass and get himself free. But when Beth came running back, stabbing the walker straight in the head, he was surprised.

Daryl hadn't expected so much fury to come from such a petite girl.

She'd saved his damn life, and it had been a long time since anyone had done that. He was good at this survival shit, knew how to take care of himself and keep going no matter what. Had to do it a lot as a kid - no one was looking out for him back then. At least, when Merle was away, no one was. And even when Merle was out of juvie or on leave, he was more interested in getting messed up and chasing women to pay much attention to his little brother. Daryl knew his brother loved him, in his own way. But that didn't change the fucked-up history they shared.

When she pulled him up, refusing to release his hand, Daryl had taken a moment to study her. Had it been so long since they first met on her father's farm? She looked grown, in the bright sunlight, slightly sweaty, a little dirty, with her bloody blade and her wild blue eyes. She had flicked her gaze over his body, making him blush and feel unsettled, before asking if he was bit. He wasn't - but something about her asking had knocked him for a loop. Sounded like Rick or Glenn, or even Andrea or Maggie. Daryl realized it was because it was something they asked each other in the heat of the moment, after whatever scuffle or danger went down. Beth had never been part of the action before, and hearing her say those simple words made his gut clench with all kinds of emotions.

He didn't want her to have to fight. She was sweet, innocent, and sensitive - Daryl wished for her to remain that way. It was similar to the way he wanted Carl to retain his childhood, but in this world, that was impossible. Beth had managed to hold onto it longer than anyone, probably, but seeing her doing what was necessary, fighting to keep them both safe... Daryl realized that she was much more grown, had changed a lot, since they first met. Had changed even since they found the prison.

Perhaps she had always been this strong. Maybe she simply needed the chance to show it.

Daryl chewed thoughtfully on the skin around his thumb, watching the flames flicker in the fireplace. He was bone-weary, exhausted, but for some reason his mind was refusing to turn off. Didn't help that all of his thoughts seemed to revolve around the blonde sleeping across the room from him. He was distracted, zoned out, and jumped nearly a foot when he heard her soft, sleepy voice call out to him.

"Daryl? You up?" she asked.

He sighed quietly as his heart slowed to a normal rate. "Yup," he said. He grimaced inwardly at the gruff tone of his voice, but Beth didn't seem to notice - or if she didn't, she didn't care. He heard the sliding of sheets and blankets as she rolled onto her side, facing him.

"You comin' to bed soon?" she asked. For a long moment, Daryl just stared at her, disbelief written all over his face. Since when did they sleep together? They'd only done it once, and he hadn't anticipated it becoming a regular thing. But the offer was too tempting to turn down, especially with his thoughts running wild about her. It was a bad idea, Daryl told himself, even as he stood and began to take off his boots. It was asking for trouble. Playing with fire. He was digging himself a whole, making himself a bed. He didn't know how he would get out of it, but he couldn't resist the longing look in those smokey-blue eyes. The smile on her face as he crawled in across from her, leaving plenty of room between them, was worth the risk. Daryl's heart ached a little as he looked at her in the dim, golden firelight. Shadows fell over her face but she was still beautiful.

"Goodnight," she whispered, snuggling down into the pillow. She was on her stomach, but her head was turned to him. Daryl laid on his back, his head turned to face her as well. He watched as her smile slipped from her face, her breathing evened out. When she was asleep, and had been for a while - Daryl was suspicious by nature, and wanted to make sure she was definitely unconcious - he traced a finger over her temple, threading his fingers through her silky golden hair. It was dirty, but it was still the softest thing he had ever touched. He pushed the hair behind her ear, running his finger over the curve of her lobe, and sighed.

Daryl Dixon was slowly realizing that his feelings for Beth Greene were reaching a dangerous territory. It wasn't just the wrong time, but Daryl was terrified of letting anyone in. But the young girl was chipping away at the wall around his heart. He prayed that he didn't let himself get hurt again. He'd taken just about all the pain in his life that he could handle.