6/10

Getting Beth back had been the easy part; saving her was an entirely different story. Daryl hadn't known how true his words to Shumpert had been; the light inside of Beth had dimmed down so low, that Daryl felt fear lick at his shoulder blades whenever he thought about her. Bleakness settled over the prison as fall gave way to winter, and Daryl and Hershel had spoken quietly about perhaps moving on and finding somewhere else to live. In the face of how easy it had been for the Governor to penetrate their walls, the statement Beth had made about the prison not being safe was all the more profound. Shifting his weight in the guard tower, Daryl swept his eyes over the grounds, before he glanced over his shoulder; a thin mattress was tucked against the wall, and curled deep within a mound of blankets Beth lay sleeping. She no longer felt safe within the prison, so much so, that if Daryl had guard duty overnight, she slept in the tower while he kept watch. But during the day, she preferred her own company or that of Michonne's; pity was a scraping knife against her carefully constructed walls, and an emotion she wanted no part of. Glancing down at her again, Daryl let his mind wander back over the last three months.

XXxXxXxXx

After Hershel had examined and then sewn together the gunshot wound, he had ordered bed rest; the shuffling of feet had barely faded before he had gathered Beth close to his chest and he'd wept out both fear and exhaustion into the crown of her head. For well over an hour Daryl had sat on the catwalk above Beth's cell, keeping watch over her; he had heard Hershel's tears, and the questions he had asked Beth that she hadn't answered. In the end, however, both he and Daryl been called away to a council meeting. When Daryl had finished recounting a doctored version of what had happened and answering the questions that had been thrown at him, the need to wash away the last few days had been overwhelming. The dirt on his skin was normally a comforting blanket – on this day, however, it was suffocating. It was late enough that he wouldn't be disturbed, and Daryl unbuttoned his shirt as he walked down the corridor towards the shower block. Pushing the doors to the showers open, Daryl didn't hesitate; he stripped down to bare skin and turned the water on as hard as it would go. Dirt and dried blood was ruthlessly scrubbed away, and Daryl shook his head, sending water flying in all directions when he finally turned the taps off. The towel was coarse against his skin, and he enjoyed the brief prickle of pain it bought – it reminded him that he was alive. Tugging on the mostly clean pants he had bought with him, Daryl turned around and froze in the middle of pulling his vest on.

Beth made a poignant picture in the moonlit room; she stood with her back to him under the steady stream of water, and while she was wearing underwear and a thin tank, she might have well had been naked. He could see the bruises, turned silvered by both moonlight and water, that littered her body; the handprints and fingermarks that ran across the span of her slender hips, down her legs and under the band of her panties – the bruises that circled both wrists and peppered her arms. She stood under the water with her head tilted back, and as she ran her good hand over her tilted head, the fall of her saturated hair appeared longer than he'd ever seen it; Daryl flinched when he realized he was watching her. He must have made some sort of sound, because Beth slowly looked over her shoulder at him. For a long minute, the only sound that broke the silence that lingered between them was the spattering of water on concrete. Daryl's muttered apology died on his lips unuttered when he saw the lack of expression on her face. Her face was carefully blank and he moved cautiously towards her without thought. The touch of her skin under the pads of his fingers still didn't break the silence, but Daryl reached past her to wrench the tap off to stop the flow of ice cold water; violent tremors wracked her frame, and Daryl grasped the slightly ratty towel on the bench and folded it around her in one brisk move. Later, he wouldn't be sure if she stepped into him, or if he drew her towards him, but as the towel settled around her shoulders, Beth bowed her head against his chest. Her skin was like ice against his, and as her arms slipped around his waist, Daryl couldn't hold back the flinch that escaped him when her arms touched his bare sides. But Beth's shoulders were shaking, and Daryl patted her on the back awkwardly.

"Oh, kid… you're gonna be a'ight…"

It was all he could manage, and as Beth shook against him, Daryl tilted his head back in defeat. Wrapping his arm around her, Daryl silently led her back to her cell. The silence between them thickened and grew and when Daryl let her go, Beth remained silent and steady on her feet; her silence bothered him, and as Daryl tracked his eyes over her, he saw that the bandage that was wrapped around her shoulder was soaked with both water and blood. Dragging his hand down over his jaw, Daryl gestured to her shoulder, and then spoke briskly.

"That's gotta be changed, Beth."

Her eyes were luminous in the dark, and when she finally nodded, Daryl tracked her eyes when her gaze shifted and he saw the medical supplies her father had left behind. Licking his suddenly dry lips, Daryl gestured towards them, and then shook his head.

"You want me to get your Daddy?" he asked.

Beth's answer was to turn her back on him and reach across her body so that she could tug the strap of her tank down her arm. It was harder with the one on the left, but as Daryl stared at her slack jawed, Beth shimmied the tank down slightly so that her shoulder was bare. Crossing her chest with her good arm, she slowly looked over her shoulder at him again. The picture she made slammed Daryl in the gut; he sucked in a deep breath, and bit back the cough that wanted to escape when the air in his lungs heated. Willing his hands steady, hating that he had to momentarily clench his hands into fists, Daryl finally stepped forward and unwound the old bandage. It was the sight of the stitches marring her pale skin that eased the tightness in his gut, and Daryl blew out a silent breath as he reached for a clean bandage. His movements quick, he kept his eyes on her shoulder as he re-wrapped the ugliness of what had happened to her. It was only when he was pinning it in place that his eyes strayed; over the creamy skin of her unbound shoulder, and down the curve of her spine. He caught sight of a small cluster of freckles riding along her left side, but when he felt the coolness of her skin under his thumb as he brushed it over those freckles, Daryl jerked back to reality with a silent oath. But Beth wasn't moving away from his touch. Instead she stepped into it – into him – and lowered her chin slightly. He could smell the soap on her skin as it warmed due to his closeness. He could see the rosy tone her skin took on as they stood there; and as the softness of her skin slid under his thumb again, Daryl swallowed and let his hand fall away from her side.

"You've gotta get dressed, Beth," he said finally, and she sighed but nodded.

Before he could move, however, to give her some semblance of privacy, Beth shimmied her hip slightly; the tank made a plopping sound as it slid down her thighs and hit the ground. Daryl hissed out a quiet breath as Beth reached out with her left hand and plucked a jumper out of the pile of clothing she had. He knew she'd have trouble with it before she even shifted and he reached out to take the jumper from her. He heard the soft sound of pain she bit back as he helped her maneuver her injured arm through the sleeve, and muttered an apology. Her panties were still slightly damp, but Daryl drew the line at helping her change those; instead he helped her step into a pair of warn sweat pants. And when he looked her over a second time, Daryl finally relaxed. Beth moved past him, and curled into her bed without a sound; yet when he went to leave, Beth reached out and tangled her fingers with his; Daryl's eyes locked with hers at the innocent touch, and when she tugged once, Daryl sighed heavily. It had been an unspoken plea that he was helpless to deny and Daryl let her guide him down onto the narrow cot beside her. Lying there, holding her hand as her eyes glittered in the dark at him, Daryl licked his lips and spoke quietly.

"I'm here. You're safe wit' me."

Beth nodded, and when her voice finally sounded, it was so quiet that Daryl had to lean forward to hear it.

"Do they know what I did?"

Daryl simply shook his head and Beth sighed as her eyes slid shut; when her head shifted on the pillow so that their foreheads touched, Daryl closed his own eyes. He would leave at dawn to go hunting; but for the night, he would guard Beth. It was a mostly restless night; Beth whimpered in her sleep as she fought the monsters that only she could see. But every time her eyes flew open, they would lock with his; she found strength in those angry green eyes, and safety in the arms that were wrapped around her as she fought her own private demons. And when he slipped from her bed as dawn split the sky, Beth kept her eyes shut and breathed in the lingering scent of him as he sat down on the edge of her bed to pull his boots back on. A careless swipe of his fingers across the top of her head was all the farewell she got, but as Daryl's footsteps faded into the distance, Beth closed her eyes and continued to breathe him in.

XXxXxXxXx

The blurring of lines came on silent feet the following night; he'd had guard duty during the afternoon, and it was late when he finally slipped back inside after Maggie had relieved him. That had been an uncomfortable conversation – she had heard something in his voice during the meeting the night before, and in the confines of the tower she had demanded that Daryl tell her the truth. He had no right to keep it from her. And in that confining place, Daryl's temper had finally bubbled free. Would it make her feel better, knowing what had really happened? Or would she look upon her sister with sorrowful eyes? Would it change how Maggie felt about Beth? And as Maggie's lips parted, Daryl had barreled on as his own fear and temper stole his ability to stop; he didn't think the Governor had raped her, but had he touched her? Of that, Daryl wasn't so sure. She had the classic signs of someone who had endured something traumatic, and she would need time and patience to heal. When Maggie had asked him if he'd killed the man, Daryl had laughed mirthlessly, before shaking his head.

"I didn't pull the trigger, Maggie - Beth did. Does that make her a criminal? Does it make her less somehow? She killed him, and she'll come out the other side of this stronger for it; it's better to kill your own monsters, than cower in the dark waiting for them to come back at you. Do you feel better knowing? Are you absolved of all guilt somehow?" he asked bitterly. "Because I'm not. But I ain't gonna treat Beth no different, to how I treated her before - no matter how sick watching her do that made me feel."

He'd left Maggie standing there with silent tears rolling down her face as he walked back inside. The food he choked down sat heavily in his stomach, and for the first time in a long time, he actively wished for a bottle of something – anything – to numb how he was feeling. Instead he smoked heavily as he walked around the silent prison. Several times he passed Beth's cell, but it sat silent and empty. It was outside Michonne's cell that he heard the soft sound of voices; private whispers between two damaged souls. He left them to it – it felt like he was intruding on an intimate moment somehow – and sought solace in the silence of his own cell. When they had first moved into the prison, the others had clustered together; Daryl's cell was on the second level, and set further away than the ones being used by the first group. He needed his quiet and he needed his privacy almost as much as he needed to draw his next breath. It was his space – Karen had never come here during their brief time together, and as he sank into his bunk, Daryl let out a muffled groan; he was glad she hadn't come here. Not when her death was still so fresh.

He sank towards sleep slowly; images of a curved spine and a cluster of freckles made the journey harder. He could smell her; in this quiet space, between wakefulness and sleep, he could somehow smell her. The scent of soap and the sweetness of summer fruit that she wore on her lips, and Daryl's eyes flew open when the mattress beneath him shifted marginally. Beth's eyes were luminous in the dark; her skin glowed slightly, and her hair tumbled around her shoulders as she knelt at his side. Staring at her, taking in the sight of her in his space, Daryl had to blink several times to make sure he was awake; the sight of her remained, and he let out a careful breath as Beth shifted. She tracked her eyes over his face slowly, before she licked her lips and plucked lightly at the sheets and blankets that covered him. And in that fragile moment of silence, he knew what she was going to say before her lips even parted. He wanted to shake his head, to deny her the comfort she was seeking as an unnamable emotion started to twist inside his gut; he could see the fear of rejection lurking in those shadowed eyes, however, and he knew he was helpless to deny her anything.

"I know that you don't owe me nothin'. I know that you prefer your privacy. But I… I can't… I don't wanna be alone…"

She licked her lips again as Daryl continued to stare at her, before she lowered her head. Her hair swung forward, a soft curtain that she could hide behind; the silence stretched out between them, and Beth slowly rose to her feet. And as she stepped away from him, Daryl's hand closed around her wrist. They stayed as they were for several moments before he lifted the bedding without comment; inviting her into his bed and into the safety she had sought. It wasn't graceful; Beth turned awkwardly as she sat on the edge of his bed, before she slowly curled downwards. The bedding settled across her body, and Daryl moved his arm quickly as he shifted so she could have more room in the narrow bunk. While Beth slept with her head near the door in her own cell, Daryl slept the opposite way; he had a clear line of sight of the door, and the gun that was tucked under his pillow could be reached within a nano second if need be. But in sleeping this way, it also remained darker; he couldn't see Beth, but he could smell her. Hear her subtle movements as she shifted within the bunk. And as she tucked her head under his chin, Daryl let out a careful breath. But she wasn't touching him in any other way; he could hear her breathing him in as they lay there, and as those breaths slowed, Daryl finally let out a deep sigh.

It took him several hours to finally drop into sleep; Beth stayed as she was - curled on her side, with her hands fisted under her chin. Completely innocent. But in sleeping, the line between them blurred. And when Daryl woke, he was curled around her once more. His hand was splayed across the warmth of her stomach, the cotton of her tank covering his hand completely. His face was buried in the tousled strands of her hair, and as he drew in a sleepy breath, Beth shifted closer to him. Her hips brushed against his, and Daryl froze as his groin twitched. His brain cried out in denial, even as she turned within the circle of his arms; Beth's lips brushed across his collarbone, and her arm curled across his waist as she pushed her knee between his in an effort to get closer to him. Panting slightly as his stomach tightened with nausea, Daryl shook his head silently; it wasn't right. It wasn't true. But desire bit down hard as Beth mumbled softly in sleep, and his body reacted accordingly. Nausea faded and was slowly replaced with need. Daryl shook slightly with the effort it took to not let his hands slide anywhere they shouldn't; to keep his embrace safe and innocent. And as he stared across the dimly lit cell, he let out a shuddering breath as he fought his own body for control.

XXxXxXxXx

It became their routine; Michonne grew stronger, as did the relationship she shared with Beth. Confidant, in every sense of the word. And as the days stretched out, Michonne would sometimes stare at him with a strange look upon her face; it was almost as if she was trying to tell him something that she couldn't voice. Day after day, they would talk and share secrets and burdens. But the nights? It was during those dark hours that Beth would seek him out and slip into the circle of his arms. Innocently sleeping beside him, as he fought an internal war over how he was feeling. Resignation was a bitter pill to swallow; he knew what he felt. Knew that it would tear the prison apart if his feelings became public knowledge, just as he knew those feelings would drive Beth away from him. How did you tell the one person you'd sworn to protect, that you wanted nothing more than to explore every inch of creamy skin that covered her body? You couldn't – you didn't - so Daryl suffered in silence as his bond with the girl grew deeper and more tangled with every passing day.

It was Hershel who found out first; he approached Daryl while he was doing a perimeter check. And as they walked together, Hershel's hesitation warred with his concern. He'd gone to check on Beth the night before, only to find her cell empty. Fear had him heading straight to Daryl's own cell, but it was within that shadowed room that Hershel found his daughter. Daryl had been flat on his back, Hershel said with a frown; flat on his back and fast asleep, while Beth's head nestled against his shoulder. Her hand, Hershel murmured finally, had been resting over Daryl's heart, and caught within the confines of the man's hand whose chest she slept upon. Daryl had squirmed uncomfortably while Hershel stared out across the yard. And when he finally voiced a question, Daryl had been hard pressed to answer him truthfully.

"I dunno how to answer that," he said finally. "I can't say there ain't nothin' goin' on, Hershel, 'cause she's sleepin' in my bed. But if you're askin' if I'm… if me and Beth are… we ain't. It ain't like that between us."

Hershel had nodded once; and in nodding, he spoke quietly.

"I believe you when you say that it is innocent between you and my daughter, Daryl," he said finally. "And I'd like to think you and I are friendly enough that we can have this conversation. Because what I'm asking is, while it might not be like that now, it might be one day. Am I correct in that statement?"

Daryl's lips parted and he wheezed out a fractured breathe of air as Hershel continued to watch him. But when Daryl's lips pressed back into a firm line, Hershel sighed.

"I might have been ignorant to what my daughter was going through some months ago, Daryl, but I have since been watching her closely. And in watching her, I have been watching you. You have feelings for her."

It was a statement the other man made, not a question; Daryl looked away, and when he finally spoke, it was strained.

"Don't matter none how I feel, Hershel. She ain't for me. She feels safe wit' me, and I ain't gonna damage what ground she's clawed back by kickin' her outta my bed. I can control myself wit' her… I ain't ever gonna make her feel uncomfortable."

Hershel nodded, and when he looked down at the ground, Daryl let out a heavy sigh.

"How well do you know my daughter, Daryl?" The question came out of nowhere, and as Daryl jerked his eyes back to Hershel, he was surprised to see the slightest sparkle of humor in the other man's eyes. "You have no idea how Beth feels… do you?" he asked, and when Daryl's eyes narrowed, Hershel shook his head. "She won't talk to me; not about that night. I can stitch her up, Daryl, but I can't save her. Not this time."

Clapping the other man on the back, Hershel slowly turned away. "I told you once that she was lucky to have you as a friend. That still stands. And I know I have no right to ask, but if she won't talk to me, maybe she'll talk to you; I trust you, Daryl, as does Beth. Maybe you should learn, however, to trust not only her but yourself."

Daryl turned away from the sight of Hershel walking away, and jammed his knife through the forehead of a Walker in response. He did trust her; he trusted her, as he trusted so very few people. And that there in, was his problem; because while he trusted a few, Beth only trusted him. There was nothing on this earth that he would do to betray that fragile trust she had in him – not a damn thing.

XXxXxXxXx

He breathed her in silently as she lay curled in his arms. Her hair was soft against his skin, and her warmth was seeping into him; warming his blood and Daryl groaned silently as Beth shifted. Her hips were pressed back against the curve of his lap, and as she shifted against him again, Daryl's jaw clenched. He was used to holding her during the night now; was used to feeling the slow burn of need crawl over his body as he held her during the long hours. And as he lay there, Beth rolled over within his embrace. The thin tank she wore rode up at her movement and Daryl closed his eyes as Beth settled against him. He could feel the silkiness of her skin, and with a silent oath, splayed his hand against her side. He was unable to stop the motion of his hand – that slow slip and slide of palm over skin, and in the silence of the cell, he heard the sound that spilt from her mouth. Half groan, half gasp, and the muscles in his stomach clenched painfully as Beth lifted herself up onto her elbow. Her eyes gleamed in the dark, and for a long moment, they stared at each other.

"Are we ever gonna talk about this?" she whispered finally.

Daryl rolled away from her and sat up on the edge of the bed as Beth waited patiently behind him. He knew what she meant – and he had too much respect for her to play dumb. Shoving his hands through his hair, Daryl finally sighed and spoke gruffly.

"Nothin' to talk about, Beth."

He felt her shift on the narrow bunk, and her warmth seeped into him as she rested her chin on his shoulder.

"Why?"

Daryl dragged his hands down over his face, and then reached down to pat the hand that rested against his stomach.

"We're friends, you and I. That's all we can ever be."

He felt her shake her head, even as he pulled her hand away from his stomach and rose to his feet.

"You want me," she said quietly. "So why can't we have that?"

Daryl sighed again, and reached out to turn the small lamp on. The light caused shifting shadows to play over her face as he leaned against the wall and lit a smoke.

"It ain't real… what you're feelin'," he said finally. "At best, Beth, it's gratitude for me comin' to get you from Woodbury."

Beth's face twisted with anger, and she glared at Daryl for a long minute before she crawled from his bed and braced her hands on her hips.

"That's really sad, Daryl, that you can reduce what we feel for each other down to something so basic and benign. It's sad that you don't think you deserve what I feel for you."

Daryl blew out a steady stream of smoke and then shook his head.

"It can't happen, Beth," he said finally. "You're eighteen… you got your whole life ahead of you to find someone…"

"Oh, bullshit!" she spat, and laughed bitterly as Daryl stared at her in shock. "Maybe I should go and tame myself a Walker. I'd have better luck with that, than with gettin' through your thick skull. I don't want anyone else. I want you; even with your filthy temper and lack of brain to mouth filter. And I know you feel the same way; we ain't hurtin' anyone, Daryl, but ourselves. And I'm sick to death of hurtin'; I'm sick to death of waitin' and wonderin'. You think I don't know you want me? I might not be the most experienced person around, but I know when you…react… you roll slightly and press your thigh down between us so that I don't feel you. You've been doin' that since the first time we shared a bed. I want you… you've basically admitted that you want me… so what's the problem?"

Straightening up, Daryl shook his head stubbornly.

"Ain't gonna happen," he said finally. "Not now, not ever. It's hard enough as it is, Beth; don't make it harder by offerin' somethin' to me that I know would cause a war within these walls, no matter how much I might want it."

Stubbing out his cigarette, Daryl cursed angrily, before reaching to grasp the back of Beth's neck. Jerking her forward a step, he rested his forehead against hers and inhaled the sweet scent of her skin.

"We ignore it, Beth; it'll fade away in time, and we'll laugh about this in the future," he said finally.

Beth reached up to grasp his wrists in her hands, and staring into his familiar green eyes, she smiled slightly and then spoke.

"We'll see; because while you might feel like that now, Daryl… that if we ignore it it'll go away? You won't always."

XXxXxXxXx

Daryl was jerked out of his thoughts and back to the presence as Beth groaned and sat up within her makeshift bed. Her hair was tousled as she rose to her feet, and she yawned softly as she wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. Daryl stayed where he was; leaning against the rail and staring out over the yard as she walked up behind him and rested her chin against the width of his shoulders.

"Wanna take a ride later?" she asked, and Daryl simply nodded as she brushed her fingers over his side and headed for the trapdoor.

"Yeah… maybe see if we can't find some stuff," he mumbled.

"You want oats?" she asked, and Daryl nodded again as she disappeared from sight.

She was right, he mused silently as he lifted his gaze back to the fence line. He'd been so sure that if he ignored how he felt that it would fade away. It hadn't. It had grown stronger; tangled around him like rope, and bound him to the pretty blonde more tightly than anything else. He was having a harder time keeping her in the Untouchable box lately; it felt too natural to wake up with her in the mornings, and to fall asleep with her fingers lightly dancing over his side. The reaction his body had to hers was second nature now; he was used to the burn in his blood, and the tightening of his groin when they lay curled together. He was used to waking up with an erection, while her skin slid like silk against his hand.

Everyone knew they shared his space; Michonne had simply cocked an eyebrow at him when it had come to light. Glenn had scratched his ear before shaking his head, while Carol had pursed her lips. It had been Rick and Maggie that had predictably gone mental. Only Hershel speaking up had saved him from a beating; the older man admitted that he knew Beth was sleeping in Daryl's cell. Had been for two months by that stage. And as her father, wasn't it up to him to speak to Daryl, rather than humiliate the man by calling him out during a council meeting? Rick had spluttered, before falling silent when Hershel had leaned forward.

"That's my daughter you're discussing there, Rick; mine. Not yours. I know what's been going on; they're friends. And even if they weren't, that is none of your concern. I don't appreciate you doing this to Daryl and Beth, and I'll thank you to keep private matters just that in the future – private."

Hershel's statement had rocked Daryl to the core, and he found himself thinking over his words more and more often. What they had…. Daryl blew out a harsh breath. What they had scared him more than the Walkers some days. Walkers he knew how to deal with; his feelings for a teenaged girl? Daryl shook his head and sighed again. Those… not so much.