Chapter 3

"Daryl!" Beth laughed, punching him lightly on the arm. "You don't need to carry me!"

"You're the last thing that needs to be loaded on my bike. And since I carried everything else…" He laughed, swooping her up off the couch. "I have to finish the job."

Beth couldn't help but laugh. For the first time, in a long time, she was actually happy. It had been four days since she got injured, and in that time she and Daryl bonded. At the prison, they had their slim moments together. But now, she had spent those four days forming a relationship with him, watching him unfold before her, and she was strangely thrilled. Beth always knew he put up a façade, blocking everyone out. Piece by piece, she tore off his outer shell and what she found underneath confirmed her beliefs.

Daryl Dixon was is the farthest from a jackass.

He cared for her like she was the fine china her mother had kept in the highest cabinet, out of reach from grabby hands, only to be touched by the most delicate of them all. Her thigh was healing, thanks to him, but he still commanded her to stay on the couch, nestled in abundance of blankets. They talked, then she would sing him to sleep, letting him lay of his back, staring at the chipped gray paint on the ceilings. Her voice filled the candle-lit room and she watched Daryl's eyes slowly close. In the morning, he was awake long before she was. Her eyes opened to the curtains drawn, and through the window she could see Daryl taking care of a nearby walker. As if sensing her, he turned around and came inside. Daryl put together a breakfast for her, and Beth stood up for the first time since her injury. Daryl draped her arm around his shoulder and helped her into the yard, by the Cherokee Roses she wanted to see so badly.

"Daryl, I remember. When that little girl came out of the barn, Sophia- right? And you fell to your knees holding Carol." She swallowed, looking up at him. "I never expected you to hurt like that."

Daryl looked on the horizon, memories flooding back in. "Why are you bringing this up?"

"I-I," Beth didn't know where she was going with this, but she had been thinking about that moment since they left the group to restock their supplies. "I just wanted you to know that I don't think you're this 'jerk' that you want everyone to think you are, because we all know you're not." She paused, looking into his eyes. "I-I know you're not." She said, holding her gaze into his eyes.

Daryl closed his eyes, exhaling softly. "Beth-"

"I've heard that sigh too many times, don't play that 'you're a little girl, who doesn't know shit,' card. I'm trying to tell you-"

"Beth." Daryl whispers, lifting his hand to stroke back a stray hair from her cheek, triggering her eyes to widen in surprise. He quickly dropped his hand. "You're loud, and naïve. You like to speak your mind, and you can hold your own when you need to." He paused, watching Beth's face. "You don't deserve this life, Beth."

"Maybe this life is what I deserve. I'm not a saint, Daryl." She turned her face to watch the sunset in the horizon. "I've killed. I've turned my back on people who needed my help." Beth turned back to face him. "This is God, showing me I was never meant for a husband, proper kids, or PTA meetings in the suburb."

Daryl looked at Beth, watching her every breath. He couldn't help the warm feeling he got when she talked, even if he had no clue in hell what she was talking about. "Beth, all that stuff, ain't you. Even if the world hadn't gone to shit, that still wouldn't be you." Daryl put this hand on her shoulder, moving so they were facing each other completely. "I could see you in a house just like this, with little kids running everywhere, a husband coming home from his morning hunt to bring you fresh meat for supper."

Beth laughed softly. "A man who hunts?"

Daryl nodded, "I had to add a touch of me into it."

"But why…"

Daryl looked at her, blue eyes on blue.

"Daryl…"

"I know I'm not what you want, Beth. I'm not Zach or Jimmy. I'm not sixteen and stupid- well maybe I'm stupid for doing this- but when I saw you lying on that couch, I was thinking that I would do anything to have you walking around, alive and well, again." Beth stared at him. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have-"

Beth pressed her body into his, slamming her lips against his. It took Daryl a few moments to realize that she wanted him like he wanted her. Beth's thigh was throbbing, but the pain of not being connected to Daryl was greater than the pain in her leg.

Daryl laid his hands numbly on her back, as Beth kissed him softly. They both couldn't fathom what was happening and strangely, it felt right.

They spent the next three days exactly the same way, together.

Daryl plopped Beth on his bike, erupting laughter from her mouth.

"Somethin' funny girl?" Daryl mumbled, kissing her roughly on the lips.

"Nope, just happy." Beth smiled up at him. He returned the look.

Daryl draped his leg over the bike, and plopped onto the seat. Beth moved closer, sliding her arms tightly around his waist.

"You ready?" Daryl asked over the purr of the motor.

Beth kissed him on the back of the neck.

Daryl dropped the kickstand and glided onto the road.