Thank you ever so much for your support and patience. I love you all, and I hope that this chapter does right by you all (if you know what I mean!). Please enjoy and review :) Lara xoxo

The mushroom soup was not a hit, but it provided a satisfying saltiness and filled their stomachs for the night. The girls chattered excitably around the small kitchen table as they ate their fill of soup and rabbit, but Daryl could not take his eyes off of Beth. He watched her, admiring the shine of her eyes and the crinkle that formed on her forehead when she laughed particularly hard.

His thoughts strayed to the folded square of paper burning a hole through the back pocket of his jeans, filled with the words he was tempted to just shout at her right now, because he wasn't sure he could wait until tomorrow to truly confess what she was to him. The fucking sun.

A loud clanking sound awoke him from his daydreams as Maggie cleared the plates from around the table, and Grace began to rinse the cutlery in the sink. Everyone was packing it in for the night, preparing for the event of the next day. The wedding day. Their wedding. The day that Daryl and Beth would officially become Mr. and Mrs. Dixon (or, as official as it could get in an apocalyptic situation). Daryl's mind was still reeling at the idea of marriage, although he reasoned that he had been living with and raising a child with her for the past year anyway, so a gold band and a few pretty words would hardly make a difference.

"I'm going to feed Sophia," a soft voice chirped up from besides him as Beth pushed out her chair, brushing her hand gently across his forearm as she passed him, leaving behind her faint scent of vanilla.

"Hey, Daryl, can you help me bring in some of the firewood? I don't want the fire to burn low overnight," Maggie asked, gesturing to the kitchen door.

"Yep, sure," Daryl shrugged into his jacket before following Maggie out the front door and to the side of the house where a large collection of firewood was protected by a tarpaulin. They made a habit of taking wood whenever they went on runs or hunts, to ensure they never ran low. Now that they had a baby in the house, it was of great importance that there was always access to warmth and light.

"Uh, listen," Maggie started, and he braced himself for whatever motivational speech she was about to regurgitate all over him.

"I know we didn't get off to the best start, with you and Beth, I mean," she paused, awaiting his agreement.

"Uh-huh," he grunted.

"But, I just want you to know that I love you. You can be a real asshole sometimes, but you're a good man and father, and anyone can see that you love my sister," she continued.

"You really ever doubted that?" he grumbled.

"No, I haven't. I'm happy that you and Beth are getting married. I'm excited that you're going to be a part of my family, even though it's been that way for a long time now. And Sophia – she's perfect and I would do anything for that little girl. I hope that you fill this house with children, because-" suddenly her voice broke, and Daryl could hear sobs catching in her throat. He was suddenly weary that there was something more to her emotional outburst.

"Maggie, you okay?" he replaced the pile of wood he had collected back onto the tarpaulin so that he could reach out to squeeze her shoulder reassuringly, although he was terrified of what might happen next.

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry. I'm just emotional," she sniffed noisily and wiped at her eyes which were sprouting fresh tears that ran dramatically down her face.

"You're not fine." He made no request to probe for more information, leaving it up to Maggie if she chose to divulge anything more. There was a pregnant pause while she caught her breath.

"I hope that you and Beth fill this house with children, because I can't."

Her voice was almost devoid of emotion, as if she was restraining herself to reduce the chance of collapsing into tears.

"What are you talking about?" Daryl had never claimed to be an expert on women's fertility, but he was pretty damn sure that there were no tests in this empty world that would provide Maggie with evidence of this.

"We've been trying."

"I'm sure it's nothing. You're stressed, you're hardly eating. It'll happen, Maggie-"

"No, Daryl. We've been trying for three years. Since we were married. I had – have a condition. I was diagnosed when I was 18, and I was told that I'd need medication and fertility treatments before I could even begin trying for children. But I was young, and I didn't know what was gonna happen to the world. So now I have a marriage and a husband and a home, and I can't have the children I've always wanted."

"Jesus, Maggie. I'm sorry-"

"It's okay. I've accepted it, and so has Glenn. But- but I've never talked to Beth about it. She doesn't know. Please, don't bring it up. I'll tell her in my own time. I don't want to ruin your day with my stupid problems. Doesn't make sense really, to be so focused on having children when the world is falling apart. Maybe it's for the best," she attempted to shrug off the pain in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around the large load of firewood that Daryl had abandoned earlier.

"Of course. I don't have a problem filling this house with babies, but I should probably ask Beth first. Hell, if we pop out too many, I'm sure you could take a couple," he breathed a sigh of relief at the grin that crossed her face momentarily.

"Careful what you wish for, Dixon. I might take you up on that offer!" she replied before she started back towards the house with her huge load of firewood stacked in her arms.

Daryl followed suit, and immediately began adding the smaller pieces of firewood to the burnt out coals on the bottom of the fireplace. It didn't take long to catch, and before long the fire was high and hot, warming the kitchen and lounge room beautifully.

Maggie excused herself to go upstairs and shower, while Glenn and Grace scrubbed furiously at the pot that had concealed burnt mushroom adhered to its base.

Daryl bid his goodnights to them before heading upstairs to his fiancé – fuck it – his wife. He found her curled up in the armchair at the side of their bed, Sophia's body cradled lovingly in her arms as she gently rubbed her back to settle her after her feed.

"Did I miss the show?" he grinned, waggling an eyebrow suggestively.

"You did!" she wrinkled her nose at him playfully.

"Don't you know that it's bad luck to see the bride the night before the wedding?" she added, fixing him with an accusatory look.

"Well I don't figure myself for much of a traditionalist, do you?" he replied, shaking off his vest and jacket and kicking them into a corner of the room until tomorrow. Fuck! Was he supposed to have something more appropriate and gentlemanly to wear to his own wedding? He made a mental note to search the entire house. It was a funeral home, surely they had a few dusty old suits left behind.

"You're not to see my dress until the wedding at least. We've got to keep some traditions sacred," she teased, as if reading his own mind.

"You got a dress?" he was dumbfounded at the knowledge that the girls had smuggled a wedding dress into the house without him even knowing.

"Yes. Well, it's a white dress. Not technically a wedding dress, but it's perfect for us."

He nodded, secretly excited about seeing her walking towards him in a white dress holding flowers or some other kind of girly shit.

"A white dress, huh? Ain't that supposed to be a symbol of virginity?" he smirked wickedly at her, knowing just how to push her buttons.

"Considering I'm marrying the man who is solely responsible for my lack of virginity, I don't think we're bending the rules too much," she replied quickly but with an alluring smile as she stood and placed Sophia gently back into her crib at the foot of the bed.

"Wish I could say the same," he murmured as he kicked off his boots. It was painfully true that he regretted each and every woman he'd known intimately before her. How could anything have been worth it in comparison to Beth? He subconsciously hated the fact that she had given everything to him, whilst he was plagued by memories of one night stands he would prefer to have forgotten.

"Aww, what's troubling you?" he focused on the way her fingers unbuckled her belt and slid her jeans down her legs to avoid answering her.

"Nothin'" he sighed as he realized before the word had even left his mouth that this response was never enough for Beth.

"Come on. Tell me. No secrets." She peeled off her t-shirt and replaced it with a loose fitting white shirt that Daryl was pretty certain used to belong to him, until she had stolen it. He shrugged her off as he climbed into their bed, stacking the pillows against each other so he could sit upright comfortably. He watched Beth start crawling towards him, and opened his legs in an unspoken invitation for her to lay between them. She ignored his offer and swung one leg over his lap until she was straddling him, her face level with his so that he could not escape her.

"Nothing is wrong, how many times I gotta' say it?" he trailed off, letting his eyes focus primarily on the ample cleavage that was peeking over the top of the neckline that hung low on her tiny frame.

"Are you getting cold feet?" Beth's voice sounded so small that he knew she was feeling vulnerable. The immediate guilt that filled his stomach at the knowledge that his own stubbornness had caused her to feel this way made him jerk his eyes upwards to make contact with hers. Her eyes were as blue as ever, but he could see the inkling of tears forming in their corners.

His lack of response only served to heighten her anxiety as she shifted nervously in his lap, her nails pressing half-crescent indentations into the palm of her hands. He hurried to unfurl her hands in his, placing her palms flat against his pectorals in an effort to calm her. He hoped that she could feel the fluttering of his heart.

"Never, Beth. I promise you," he felt her sag against him in relief.

"You are the best damn thing that has ever happened to me. I just worry, because I don't know how to be a husband. I don't want to disappoint you. Not now. Not after everything we've been through."

"Daryl, you never expected to be a father either and you're a natural. Fatherhood is much more difficult than being a husband," she reassured him, stroking his face as he leaned into the comfort of her touch.

"Besides, it's not as though anything is going to change. We're basically married already. As long as you promise me right now that our sex life won't disintegrate into a pile of dust, I cannot wait to be your wife," she giggled at the expression on his face.

"That won't be a problem," he grinned.

"Are you sure?" she teased as his hands dug into her hipbones to grind her warmth against the erection that was rapidly stiffening in his boxer briefs. "Will you still find me attractive after I've given birth to all of your children and I'm covered in stretch marks?" there was a lilt to her voice that suggested she was joking, however her question was completely valid.

"Absolutely. I'll kiss every single stretch mark on your body each night," he breathed into the warm skin of her neck, his hands spanning the flat of her stomach and pushing her shirt out of the way until his palms slid against the silky softness of her skin.

"Will you still want me when I'm your wife?" she pulled away from him to ask, relishing his frustrated groan at the loss of contact.

He twisted a hand into the golden curls that fell around her face in response, pulling her mouth to his for a kiss. These moments were to be cherished. It wasn't the chaste, polite yet sweet kisses they peppered each other with throughout the day. This kiss was full of heat, and passion, and perhaps just a touch of desperation as their tongues battled for dominance.

"Every fucking day," he growled. She stifled a laugh as his breath tickled her neck.

"And do you promise that we won't become that boring married couple that has sex only in the missionary position once a month?" she continued insistently. He couldn't withhold his chuckle at her final request. For her to believe for the shortest moment that he would ever lose his desire for her was absurd.

"Darling, I'll jackhammer you into the mattress every single night if you want me to," he drawled, enjoying the squeak that escaped her at his proposition.

"Oh, Mr. Dixon, don't ever lose your romantic streak," she giggled, her head dropping to the crook of his neck as his wandering hands tickled her sides briefly before moving up to cup her breasts gently. Her teeth dug tantalizingly into her bottom lip at the sensation, hips sliding against his almost subconsciously in the search for friction.

"Hmmm, I don't think we should be doing this. We should wait until tomorrow night," Beth attempted to reason with him, even as her shirt was being pulled over her head and she could see the evidence of her own arousal, soaking through her panties and glistening on his lower stomach as she rocked against him.

"If you want me to stop, I'll stop," he replied, and Beth didn't even have time to respond before his hot mouth was at her breast, his teeth teasingly scraping against her nipple and sending spasms of pure pleasure down her spine. She gritted her teeth in an attempt to remain quiet enough that Sophia wouldn't waken.

"Definitely don't stop," she whimpered.

"You know, I can always go ahead and sleep downstairs if you'd prefer," he continued as he wrapped his arm around her waist and rolled her over until she was underneath him, prone and incredibly aroused.

She felt her panties being yanked down her legs, and as she looked up from beneath hooded lids she could only watch helplessly at the sight of Daryl between her legs, one thin white ankle grasped in each hand as he stared down at her spread-eagled body with what could only be described as a carnal hunger.

"Don't you dare leave! You've got to finish what you started," she intended to sound demanding, but her voice had the tone of pleading and begging that stroked Daryl's ego tenderly. Her entire body jolted when she felt his warm hand cupping her sex, softly stroking her with tender swipes of his wet fingers.

"You're always so wet for me, baby," he breathed, watching her cheeks redden at his comment.

"Can't help it. It's all your fault," she managed to choke out between gasps as one fingertip found her clitoris and circled it softly.

"Let me make it up to you," he grinned wolfishly before pushing one leg over each shoulder and pressing a wet kiss to her center.

"Ah!" her hips lifted off the mattress before he slung his arm across her waist so that she could not move away from him. She was completely at his mercy, and she quickly became convinced that she was going to explode.

He wasn't fucking around. He knew by now exactly how to make his woman squirm and plead for release beneath his practiced tongue, and within minutes he could feel the muscles of her stomach jumping in anticipation. Her cries were getting louder, and he was dreading the moment that Sophia would awaken and start to bellow. Without really thinking about the consequences of his actions, he released the left side of her hip and thrust two fingers into Beth's mouth not a moment too soon.

Beth was a biter.

"Fuck!" he hissed as her orgasm washed over her, her muscles pulsing and her teeth clamped a little too firmly around his fingers.

"You alright, Dracula?" he pressed a warm kiss to her inner thigh once he had managed to extract his fingers from the vice of her teeth to assess the damage. No blood, but very pronounced bite marks.

Beth could not reply. She lay there, looking as though she'd just been drugged.

"Did I hurt you?" she finally managed to whisper, sitting up slowly but with a thoroughly concerned expression on her face that warmed Daryl's heart.

"It's not the worst part of my anatomy that you could have bitten," he replied, climbing back up her body to press soft and gentle kisses to her lips and ignoring her eye roll at his comment.

"Hey!" she gasped in realization. "This is officially the last time you'll ever make love to Beth Greene," she smiled drunkenly up at him.

"I'd better make it interesting then, shouldn't I?" he could feel her insistent little hands pulling down his boxer briefs and encasing his length lovingly.

"How do you want me, Mr. Dixon?" she blinked up at him from beneath those thick lashes, looking so completely seductive that for a moment Daryl forgot her question.

"Anything, anywhere, need to be inside you," he was stunned for a moment when she pulled back from him to wriggle around in his arms until her bottom was pressed deliciously against his length.

"I think I want it from behind. Does that sound okay to you, Mr. Dixon?" she fluttered her lashes at him from over her shoulder, but her flirting was lost on him from the moment he watched her turn over in front of him. Every man's ultimate weakness, and he was no exception.

"Fuck, yes," he growled as he teased her with the tip of his dick, tracing her slit until she started to rock back in an attempt to take him in. He didn't put up much resistance, pushing forward into that familiar yet intoxicating wet warmth that squeezed his length so deliciously.

"Oh God, just like that," she murmured as he watched the arch of her back accentuate with each forward thrust.

"Jesus Christ, woman," he growled, torn between wanting to fuck her into oblivion and needing to reassure her of his love. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't tear his eyes away from their point of contact, drinking in the wet sounds of their fucking and the intermittent gasps that escaped the girl on her hands and knees in front of him.

"Harder, please," she whispered breathlessly, and he gritted his teeth to stop from coming at the sound of their sex, and the desperation in her voice, and her request to be pounded into the mattress. His hands locked around the top of her pelvis to pull her back at the exact same time he thrust forward. He could feel himself hitting her cervix, the unfamiliar sensation only serving to remind him that once again, he had forgotten a goddamn condom because he obviously had the intelligence of a horny teenager.

He let his hand slip down between her legs, locating her clitoris too easily and circling it frantically with sticky fingers. Her soft and breathy moans quickly became almost keening cries.

"Oh God, you're gonna make me come," she squeaked, her hand clasping over his and her nails digging into his skin in anticipation.

"Do you want me to pull out?" he managed to choke out as he felt her body convulsing around him, the muscles of her walls milking his length and just begging him to finish. As much as he wanted to just go with it, he had too much respect for Beth to just knock her up before she was ready. If she wanted him to pull out, he undoubtedly would without any questions.

"No! Please. I want to feel you. Oh god, oh god, oh god-"

"That's not my name," he growled, not bothering to ask twice as he pounded into her welcoming body until the ball of tension ruptured and he let out a groan of satisfaction as he spilled into the vice of her body. Beth arched her back, enjoying the throbbing sensation as he reached his release.

"I fucking love you so much," she heard him mumble once he had regained the ability to construct sentences. He nuzzled into her neck, lingering in the scent of sweat and sex.

"I love you more," she replied automatically, wincing as he eased out of her body and pulled her onto his chest.

"That's not possible, darling," he quipped, a ridiculously naïve thing to say but he still believed it to be true.

"We're getting married tomorrow," Beth grinned sleepily as she traced lazy patterns across his chest.

"I know we are. I can't wait to be your husband," he brushed a soft kiss to her forehead, already noting her eyelids closing.

"I can't wait to be your wife," she yawned hugely, making him chuckle.

Within minutes, she was asleep, curled into his chest like a brand new puppy. Daryl remained bright-eyed, staring up at the ceiling. There was one image that he couldn't get out of his head.

Beth, the love of his life, slumped on the bathroom floor in a pool of her own blood.

Maggie holding Sophia's lifeless body in her arms, one hand performing delicate compressions whilst the other hand supported his daughter's head, administering rescue breaths and waiting for that infant's chest to rise and fall.

He tasted bile at the mere memory of that day. It didn't matter that both his lover and his child had survived. It could have ended up an entirely different way.

He glanced down at the blonde form that was wrapped around him, and swallowed down his feelings of nausea. He had remembered too late how close he had come to losing her from the birth of Sophia, and once more they were back to square one.

He squeezed his eyes shut and drafted out a quick prayer to any and all Gods in existence that Beth wasn't ovulating, that he hadn't just conceived another life that was hell-bent on stealing that of his wife. He suddenly wasn't sure he was ready yet, couldn't stomach the thought of losing her right now.

Closing his eyes, he squeezed Beth's warmth as a reminder that she was still very much alive as he let his eyelids slide shut and sleep blurred the busy networks of his brain.