Beth trailed through the woods after Daryl. He had promised her that he was taking her to what would be a 'real drink'. Unsure what to expect, she eagerly trotted behind him, pleased that she hadn't entirely finished her mission and that the day still had some point left to it.

Ahead, Daryl parted the bushes and held them back as she stepped through the parted branches. Her heart sank in disappointment at what he was nodding towards. A ramshackle cabin, that was really nothing more than a shack with its broken windows and weathered wood. The paint peeled from the siding in large flakes giving it a depressing feel. Beside the wooden structure was a makeshift shed. Daryl strode towards it and opened the door on rusted hinges, turning back to give her a satisfied look.

'I wasn't expecting a place like this,' Beth admitted. She wondered where the alcohol was. Wasn't that why he had brought her here?

'Found it with Michonne on a run. I knew exactly what it was when I saw it. My Dad had a place like this.'

Beth was surprised at this information he was offering more than his decision to talk to her again. He had changed his demeanor since they left the golf club; he wasn't exactly friendly and open but some of his harshness had worn away, leaving Beth feeling more comfortable in his presence. He had even humoured her on the walk here, answering her guesses about what he had done before the turn. It was something at least, and that was all she asked for.

Daryl heaved a crate from the shed and handed it to her. She wasn't expecting the weight of it and stumbled, cursing under her breath.

'What…what is this?' she asked, peering down into the crate. There were several lidded jars which were half full of clear liquid.

'Moonshine,' Daryl answered.

He led her into the shack, indicating a space to set down the crate. Beth studied their new shelter. Wallpaper had come unstuck along the ceiling, hanging down in strips. The floor was soiled with torn newspaper and cigarette butts. Dishes piled in the sink, encrusted with dust and grime, and old food. Whoever had lived here had taken no pride in their surroundings. The contrast between the expensive, plush country club house back at the golf course and this squalid hut was stark. As Beth cleared away from of the debris to side of the room, making their shelter a little more comfortable, Daryl found a hammer and secured some boards against the window. Beth smiled as she worked, pleased with their attempt at team work. Outside, leaves crunched under footsteps. Daryl, immediately on alert, peered out of the window. A lone walker roamed gormlessly outside, shuffling slowly along.

'Should w take care of that?' Beth inquired.

'Leave him. If he starts makin' too much too much noise, then we will.'

Beth pulled back a chair from the shabby table and lowered herself into it. Blowing the dust from a glass, Daryl filled it with a small amount of the moonshine and set it down in front of her.

'That's a real first drink,' he told her sounding almost proud. He leaned back against the counter and watched her. When she hesitated he asked 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing,' she replied slowly. 'Just my Dad always said the bad moonshine could make you go blind.'

'The world is uglier than it was before, why'd you wanna see that anyway? Nothin' worth seein' out there,' Daryl snorted.

'Well,' she started. 'Here goes.'

Beth took a large gulp of the liquid and swallowed. She wanted to gag, the taste was revolting and burned her throat and all the way down into her stomach. She pulled a disgusted face and Daryl chuckled, a sound she hadn't heard in what felt like months. She drained the glass and held it out in front of her, encouraging him to pour another.

'You oughta slow down,' he warned.

'This one's for you.'

'Nah,' he shook his head. 'Someone needs to keep watch.'

She rolled her eyes playfully. 'Oh come on, I don't need a chaperone. Take it,' she held the glass out to him, nodding her encouragement.

Daryl studied her and the glass for a moment before the corner of his mouth tugged into the beginnings of a smile. He took the glass from her with a terse 'Okay' and settled himself down in the threadbare armchair. Beth knelt down next to his chair, arranging herself into a comfortable position on a crocheted blanket that smelled of stale tobacco and a strange, sour scent. She poured herself another drink, and feeling bolder from the one she had just had, turned to Daryl.

'You said your Dad had a place like this?' She sipped her drink slowly, looking up at Daryl from underneath long eyelashes.

He nodded. 'Yeah, home sweet home,' he replied, wryly. He drained the liquid in his glass in one motion and held it out for a refill. Beth complied.

'He had a chair like this. He'd sit in it all summer long and get piss drunk. He had a bucket next to him that he'd spit his chaw into. It's how I knew what this place was when we found it,' he looked away, seemingly embarrassed at having offered so much information about his life before lapsing back into silence.

Beth was reluctant to let him slip back into his earlier gruff behaviour and tried another tact to keep their growing bond going. 'We should…play a game,' she suggested brightly.

'A game?' Daryl looked dubious.

'Yeah, did you ever play 'I Never'? My friends used to play it, I'd watch. So first I say something I've never done and if you have done it, you drink, and if you haven't, I drink. Then we switch, got it?'

He shrugged his usual non committal shrug and make a noise of confusion. 'I ain't never needed a game to get lit before. What's the point in it?'

'The point is,' Beth explained, exasperated. 'Is that we have nothing better to do and we have all this moonshine and a shelter for the night, so we might as well make the best of it.'

She waited for him to shoot her idea down again, failing to comprehend how someone could get by in life by being so negative all the time. She wasn't expecting him to break into song or turn cartwheels but a little enthusiasm that they were alive and surviving would go a long way to add to the morale she was trying to keep up.

'I'll go first,' she continued, drawing him into the game whether he liked it or not. 'I've never…shot a crossbow.'

He looked at her, puzzled. She fought the urge to sigh. She nodded at him, smiling, the way you would to encourage a child to do something. 'So now, you drink.'

Daryl frowned. 'Ain't much of a game,' he told her, but regardless he downed his drink and refilled the glass. A thrill went through Beth. She seemed to be finally getting through to him.

'It was a warm up,' she half laughed. 'Now it's your turn. You can say anything. The first thing that comes into your head, it doesn't matter what it is.'

Daryl furrowed his brow and spent so long thinking that Beth had a worrisome moment that he might withdraw back into himself again, or that her enthusiasm may be more annoying than infectious.

'I've never been out of Georiga,' he said eventually.

'Good one,' she praised, raising the glass to her lips and tipping back the moonshine. She was becoming used to the familiar burn as it went down and for some reason, it no longer tasted as revolting as it first did. She began to feel more relaxed; warm and happy and slightly giggly. She hadn't imagined being drunk to feel like this - it felt quite nice.

'Okay, my turn again. I've never,' she thought about the next one for a few seconds before finishing with 'Been drunk and did something I regretted.'

With a wry smile, Daryl drained his glass. 'I done a lot of shit,' was all he offered as an explanation. 'I've never been on vacation.'

Something about this saddened Beth but she tried to not let it show in her face. Daryl had gotten to the age he was at now without experiencing a vacation; the thought was depressing. Their upbringings were miles apart. Beth with her loving family, happily living on the farm, attending church and Sunday lunches around the big scrubbed wooden table in their warm kitchen. And then there was Daryl; this shack that they were holed up in was his life, something which was normal to him, a racist and quite frankly, revolving older brother, and a father that spent his summers spitting chaw into a bucket.

Beth wondered 'Not even camping?' Her family had always treating camping like a vacation. She still remembered the excitement of hammering tent pegs into the ground and running off into the woods with Maggie and Shawn to return with armfuls of logs for the fire.

'It was just something I had to learn. To hunt,' Daryl shrugged.

'Did your Dad teach you?' Beth pressed, eager to know more about his life.

Daryl made a noise of agreement but offered nothing more than a gruff 'Your turn.'

'I've never been to jail before,' she said, the words out before she could think about what she was saying. She gave an embarrassed laugh to cover it up, make it seem less serious but Daryl's eyes had already darkened.

'Is that what you think of me?' his voice was low with an edge to it.

Beth tired to make light of her question. She forced a smile onto her face and brightly said 'Not anything serious. I mean, just the drunk tank. Even my Dad went there before.' Another embarrassed giggle.

'I need to take a piss,' Daryl grunted, heaving himself up. He strode loudly to the back of the room, boots echoing a loud thud, and tossed the glass he was holding onto the floor as he unzipped his pants.

'You need to be quiet,' Beth urged. The lone walker that was still outside growled.

'I can't hear you, I'm taking a piss,' he announced loudly.

Beth cringed at the sound of him urinating loudly against the all. It was the most uncomfortable situation she had even been in.

'Daryl,' she hissed. 'You can't talk so loud.'

He angrily zipped his zipper and turned to face her, his mouth twisted into a snarl. 'You my chaperone now? Oh it's my turn again ain't it?'

His voice was rising and with it his tone grew nastier as he bit the words out, directing them at her like a weapon with every intention of hurting her.

'I've never had a frozen yoghurt. Never had a pet pony!' he mocked, spitefully.

Beth swallowed, willing him to shut up but failing to find to courage to tell him so. She kept silent, allowing him to continue his angry tirade at her. Maybe it was her own fault for being so hopeful that surviving with him could actually work. Daryl Dixon was not the type to believe there was still good in the world or pass the time playing drinking games.

'Never got nothing from Santa Claus. Never relied on anyone for protection before - Hell, I don't think I've ever relied on anyone for anything.'

'Daryl…' Beth tried, but he ignored her, continuing his rant towards her privileged life that she had previously led. She could kick herself for asking about jail. It wasn't that she really thought he had ever been there on a serious charge. Maybe for drinking or even fighting, but she knew that he wasn't a criminal. She didn't know why she thought that but she just felt it in her gut, that although he was a surly, arrogant redneck; he wasn't a mean person.

'Never sung out in front of a big group out in public like everything was fun, like everything was a big game,' Daryl ranted. His face was twisted with anger and revulsion as he made a slicing motion across his wrists. 'I sure as hell never cut my wrists looking for attention.'

He finished, kicking over something which landed with a crash on the opposite wall. The walker outside banged against the door.

'Looks like he's calling for his friends,' Daryl snarled.

Beth didn't even have time to react or feel anything other than stung about his last statement before he strode across the room and yanked her up by her wrist. His tight grip burned and Beth found herself jostled along by his angry pace. She squirmed and tried to break free but it hurt even more so she allowed herself to be dragged outside.

'We should stay inside,' she protested to deaf ears.

'You never shot a crossbow? Well, nows your chance. Come on Greene, this'll be fun,' Daryl fired off an arrow in the direction of the walker who was now ambling towards them, but a combination of being drunk and overwhelming anger caused him to miss. He made an angry noise in the back of his throat and forced Beth in front of him, clamping her against his chest with his forearm around her neck. She was winded and coughed, shoving him away. He released her momentarily to reload the weapon, only to grab her and resume his hold her her again, bringing the crossbow up and almost shaking her as he positioned it in front of her face.

'Just kill it!' she yelled, as he fired off another arrow, this one pinning it to the tree.

'C'mon,' he panted. 'Let's pull these out and get a little more target practice. You havin' fun yet?'

He released her to pull out the arrows. Furious, Beth yanked out her knife and ran over to the walker, stabbing it in the head and putting it out of its misery.

Daryl rounded on her, his face red. She had never seen anyone so angry before. 'Why'd you do that? We were having fun!'

'It's not meant to be fun,' she shouted at him. 'Imagine if that was my Dad and-'

'It's not even remotely the same,' Daryl snapped.

'What do you want from me, girl?' he hollered. He was in her face, shouting into it, his face a red, angry mask of hatred and fury. As he spoke, spit flickered from his mouth and across her face. She wrinkled her nose.

'I want you to stop pretending that none of what has happened doesn't matter to you. Like, all the people we lost meant nothing to you. It's bullshit!' she was fueled by the moonshine. She had never dared to speak like this to anyone before, but the anger that had accumulated over the last few days, the pain from losing everyone and watching her father die was coming to a head.

'That what you think?'

'It's what I know.'

'You know nothin'!' Daryl spat.

'I know you look at me and you just see another dead girl. I'm not Michonne, I'm not Maggie, I'm not Carol but…I survived you don't get it because I'm not like them…or you. I made it and you don't get to treat me like crap because you're afraid!' Beth threw the words at him, her tone passionate. It was true. She knew she was considered one of the weaker ones, the girl who sang to keep people's spirits up, the one who looked after Judith because she wasn't good at fighting, or shooting, or going on runs or any other survival skills. But she knew she had contributed in other ways and she was tired of that being overlooked, tired of people thinking she was a burden that just needed babysitting and protecting. She was strong in other ways, she didn't need to be physically strong.

'I ain't afraid of nothin.'

Beth knew this was a lie. Everything he was doing and saying came out of fear; fear that they wouldn't survive, fear that everyone was lost or even worse, dead.

'I remember,' she told him. 'When that little girl came out of the barn? You were just like me and now God forbid you let anyone get too close.'

'Too close huh?' Daryl's face was inches from her own. 'Too close, huh? You know all about that. You lost two boyfriends, you can't even shed a tear. Your whole family's gone, all you can do is just go out looking for hooch like some dumb college bitch!'

'Screw you,' she retorted, hurt. 'You don't get it.'

'No, you don't get it! Everyone we know is dead! He jabbed an angry finger into her face.

'You don't know that!' Beth protested. His lack of hope was such a downer.

'Might as well be, 'cause you ain't never gonna see 'em again. Rick…You ain't never gonna see Maggie again,' he seemed to be calming down. His shoulders had drooped and the angry expression that had been etched onto this face was relenting. She knew the realisation of what he had just said had hit him.

'Daryl, just stop,' she held a hand out to soothe him but he twisted away from it, turning his back to her.

'No! The Governor rolled right up to our gates. Maybe if I wouldn't have stopped looking. Maybe 'cause I gave up. That's on me,' his voice cracked and broke as his shoulders slumped. It was the most heartbreaking sound in the world.

'Daryl…' she started, wanting to reassure him that it wasn't his fault at all. It was nobody's fault apart from The Governors.

'No…' he stopped her again. 'And your Dad…' his voice cracked again, this time allowing the tears to come spilling out. 'Maybe - maybe I could have done something.'

Beth did the only thing she knew was reasonable in the situation. She flew at him, wrapping her arms around him from behind and pulling him as close against her as she could. Silently, she stood there with her head rested against him as he cried out all of his anger and pain.