Hello again! It took me a while to get around to this chapter because of testing last week but even once I finished testing, this was a hard chapter to write. A lot is going on that isn't being said by either character and I hope I brought that out accurately. Everything is similar to how it happened in the TV show, this time you just get a glimpse of what is going on in Beth's and Daryl's head. Enjoy!

Beth's POV

Daryl seemed to have some destination in mind, although Beth wasn't sure how he was able to navigate through the forest, everything looked the same. Daryl suddenly started talking, something Beth wasn't used to yet. "A couple months ago, Michonne and I were out around this area lookin for supplies. As we were headin back to the prison, we came across this place." Just as Daryl finished talking, a house came into view. It wasn't a nice house like the country club they had just been at, it was more like a shack. The shack was made of wood, causing it to blend into its surroundings. Random household objects lay scattered around the yard. Beth took the sight in while Daryl headed for a shed, which had an old tire leaned up against it. He thrust the door open and it banged against the wall. Beth looked inside to see what he was doing. "Whoever lived here before all of this was real into making moonshine. This is the kinda stuff you drink for your first drink," Daryl said as he hoisted a crate of jars up off the ground. The jars were full of a clear liquid; Beth had heard of moonshine but had never actually seen it. Daryl headed into the house with Beth close behind.

There was a ratty old couch surrounded by cigarette butts and the floor was a mess. Junk was piled everywhere. From the looks of it, the place hadn't been cleaned even before the apocalypse. Daryl set the crate down on a table and began digging through the cabinets. Beth took a seat and watched him search the kitchen. Finally, he found a plastic cup and poured a little bit of the moonshine into it before sliding the cup over to her. Beth took the cup, a bit nervous about drinking the homemade concoction. She had heard before that if it was made wrong, moonshine could make a person go blind. What if the guy who had made this wasn't very good at making alcohol? "Well, go on," Daryl encouraged, standing over her. Beth's rebel side got the best of her; she raised the cup to her lips and took a gulp. A fiery liquid burned its way down her throat; she couldn't help but make a face and her eyes began to tear up a little. Her nostrils felt like they would never be stuffy again. "That is the most disgusting thing I ever tasted," Beth exclaimed. Daryl just nodded. Beth raised the cup again and finished the moonshine. It tasted horrible, but she was enjoying the thrill of doing something that was "forbidden". She was glad to take part in something almost every underage teenager had done, it made her feel like she was just a rebellious child again, back before all of this happened. She wouldn't be a teenager much longer though, sometime soon her 20th birthday would be coming up. Beth had no clue how she would know it was her birthday because although they had kept track of the date at the prison, Beth hadn't been keeping count since she and Daryl had escaped into the woods. Beth looked over at Daryl, very grateful that he was here with her.

"Is the second round any better," Beth asked Daryl hopefully as she began to pour more of the clear liquid into the cup. "Hey, slow down," Daryl cautioned. "But this one is for you," Beth said, offering him the cup. After all he had done to help her get the alcohol, surely he would want some. "Naw, I'm good," he said, refusing the drink. "Why," Beth asked, confused by his refusal. "Someone's gotta keep watch," Daryl replied. Beth found it odd that he didn't want to drink any; he didn't seem like the type to refuse a bit of alcohol. Maybe something is bothering him. While she had always known Daryl was responsible, it wasn't like him to miss out on the fun. "So your like what? My chaperone now," Beth asked, hoping to get Daryl to change his mind. "Naw, I just drink lots of water," Daryl said, before he walked off, looking uncomfortable in the shack. "Yes ," Beth said in the most serious tone possible. She was hoping to hit a nerve so that he would snap out of the odd mood he was suddenly in. Her efforts were in vain, Daryl didn't even grunt at her little comment.

Daryl paced around the room while Beth took sips of moonshine. The sound of his boots against the floor were going to drive her crazy. Back in high school when she had hung out with some of her more wild friends, they had occasionally gotten their hands on a bottle of vodka. Beth had never taken part in drinking it of course. She knew what her daddy would do to her if he found that she had been drinking. When Maggie had come back home drunk one time, daddy had thrown a conniption fit. Beth definitely never wanted to have Hershel angry at her like that, so even though her friends looked like they were having fun, she had never let a drop pass her lips. Beth smiled thinking back to how her friends would laugh and play silly drinking games; they had always seemed to have a good time. That's what I'm missing, someone to drink with. It wasn't much fun drinking by herself but from the way Daryl was acting, that was just how it was going to have to be.

Bang! Daryl had found an outlet for his nervous energy; he was hammering pieces of wood over the windows. Bang! Beth gave up drinking for the moment and began looking around the shack. Something bright pink was stashed right behind the armchair. Beth went over and pulled it out. It was a bright pink ceramic bra filled with cigarettes, both used and unused. She set it down in front of her. "Who would go into a store and walk out with this," Beth asked incredulously. Daryl turned around and glanced down at the makeshift cigarette holder. "My dad, that's who," he said. Beth hadn't expected him to give her an answer. "That dumb ass," Daryl continued, "He would set them up on top of the TV set and use them for target practice." Beth wasn't sure she had heard Daryl correctly. "He shot things inside your house," she question. "It was just a bunch of junk anyway. That's how I knew what this place was. That shed out there, my dad had a place just like this. You got your dumpster chair," Daryl motioned to the dirty armchair, " that's for sittin in your drawers all summer drinkin. Got your fancy buckets, that's for spittin chaw in after your old lady tells you to stop smokin." Beth had never heard Daryl talk so much before. Then, he reached over and grabbed a newspaper off the TV. "You got your internet," he said, holding the paper out before dropping it on the floor.

Suddenly, Daryl stopped talking and held up a finger at her, warning Beth to stay quiet. He peered out the crack in the window. The moan of a walker could be heard just outside. Daryl turned back toward Beth and reported that there was just one of them. Beth hated how those walkers always turned up, you couldn't go anywhere without one of them appearing. "Should we take care of it," Beth asked. "If it keeps making too much noise, yeah," Daryl said, not appearing too concerned. Beth admired Daryl's courage. You have to be strong in this world. "Well," Beth said, "if we are going to be trapped again, we might as well make the best of it." She picked up a bottle of moonshine and held it out to him. "Unless your too busy chaperoning Mr. Dixon," she said, half joking and half serious. "Hell," Daryl said, taking the jar from her. Beth smiled as he opened it up and took a sip. "Not half bad," he commented as he took a seat in the armchair. Beth retrieved her cup and took a seat on the floor by the little coffee table in front of Daryl. They sat there for a while, just drinking in silence.

Finally, Beth couldn't take it anymore. "Do you want to play a game," she asked. Daryl raised one eyebrow at her. "Please," she begged, "it's real easy." Daryl slid off the armchair and onto the floor across from her. Beth took that as a yes. "Okay," she began, "It's called Never Have I Ever." "What kind of game is that," Daryl asked. Beth was surprised, she was pretty sure it was a common drinking game. "Well," Beth explained, "I say something I have never done and if you have done it, you drink. If you haven't, then I drink. Then, we switch." Daryl didn't say anything, but just sat there staring at her. He seemed to be wondering why he had left the armchair. "You really don't know this game," Beth asked, trying to draw Daryl out of his reclusive state. "I ain't never needed a game to get lit before," Daryl replied. Beth didn't know if he was joking or had already caught on to the game. "Wait. Are we starting," Beth asked. Daryl didn't answer her question, instead he just replied with another question. "How do you know this game," he asked, sounding a lot like a parent. "My friends played it," Beth replied, "I watched." This isn't getting anywhere. Beth decided she would have to take the first step.

"Okay," Beth said, "I will start." She racked her brains and came up with the most obvious example. "I have never shot a crossbow," Beth stated. Daryl just stared at her with those deep blue eyes of his. "So now you drink," Beth urged. Daryl raised the jar to his lips and took a sip. "Not much of a game," he commented. Beth resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "That was a warm-up," Beth retorted, "Now you go." Daryl raised his fingertips to his lips, a habit she had noticed he did when he was a bit nervous and thinking hard on something. "Uh, I don't know," Daryl mumbled. "Just say the first thing that pops into your head," she encouraged. "I never been out of Georgia," Daryl finally said. "Really," Beth said, a bit surprised but glad that he was finally playing. Daryl just stared at her, not seeming to be all that into the game. "Okay, good one," Beth said as she took a drink. "I've never…," she started. After thinking a while, Beth came up with one. "I've never been drunk and done something I regretted," Beth said. Daryl took a drink as she had expected. "I've done a lot of things," he said. Beth hadn't expected the extra-commentary. She had heard from Maggie and daddy that Daryl hadn't grown up in the best family and was rough around the edges. From what he has said earlier, he had grown up in a place very similar to what they were in now. Beth couldn't imagine growing up here and she couldn't picture Daryl as a kid. Despite a tough upbringing, Daryl had turned out pretty well from what Beth could tell. "Just what has he done that he regrets," Beth wondered. The thought slipped away, her brain was starting to feel a little fuzzy. "Your turn," Beth stated, determined to keep the game going. Daryl scratched his chin and sat in silence for a while. "I've never been on vacation," he said. Beth couldn't imagine someone going their whole life without a single vacation. "What about camping," Beth asked. Camping seemed like something even Daryl and his brother, Merle, would have done. Daryl had all the skills that came with camping outside a lot. "No, that's just sumthin I had to learn, huntin as well," Daryl replied. "Did your dad teach you," Beth asked, curious about the redneck's past and a bit more forward because of the alcohol. Daryl stared Beth down with his dark blue eyes and didn't reply. It was obvious that he wasn't going to answer the question. "Okay," Beth shrugged her shoulders and took a drink.

Daryl's POV

Daryl should have never begun playing this game with Beth. He didn't like drinking, he hated people who drank, although he had done so himself a number of times. Especially, he didn't like where the conversation was heading. Anything he said just made Beth curious and he didn't feel like talking about his past. He watched her as she drank more of the moonshine. Why did I ever agree to get her some alcohol? Daryl was sure that Hershel would have killed him if he were around to see what Daryl was letting his precious daughter do. The thought of Hershel's death caused a knot to form in Daryl's stomach. "I've never..," Beth continued. Daryl turned his attention back to the present moment, trying to forget the attack by the Governor. The alcohol wasn't making it any easier for him to forget his emotions. "…been in jail," Beth finished, looking up at him with those sweet doe-like eyes of hers. Daryl felt his heart harden. Ever since he had been a kid, people always just saw him as white trash. Of course, even sweet Beth would assume he was some kind of criminal. "I mean, as a prisoner," Beth clarified.

Daryl's fist clenched. After all he had done during the apocalypse, he couldn't escape his past. After all the times he brought food back and saved people's lives, he just didn't fit in with them. "Is that what you think of me," Daryl said quietly to Beth, hurt by her assumption. Not that he could blame her, Daryl was sure that Hershel and Maggie had told her that he was trouble and all other sorts of things. The fact that Beth believed them though, the sweet girl who seemed to see the best in everyone, made him feel like trash. Daryl drank a bit more of the moonshine, knowing that he should stop. "I didn't mean anything serious," Beth exclaimed, trying to backtrack. "It could just be for drinking too much, even my dad got in trouble for that, back in the day," she said, trying to take back the insult. "Drink up," Daryl said, trying to control his emotions. "Wait," Beth said, "prison guard? Were you a prison guard before?" Daryl took another swig of moonshine. "No," he said, his annoyance increasing. Before all of this, Daryl had been a piece of shit, wandering around with Merle and getting kicked out of bars. What could Beth possibly ever understand about his past, only Merle did and Merle was gone. Daryl could feel the anger rise up in him, but the Governor was dead and he had no one to take it out on.

"It's your turn," Beth said, pulling Daryl's attention back. Daryl was through with this game, he stood up, not sure what he was doing but letting his emotions guide him. He stomped throughout the shack and decided that he needed the restroom. "You need to be quiet," Beth cautioned him in a worried voice. Instead of going to the bathroom or paying attention to Beth's warning, he unzipped his pants and just began peeing right in the kitchen. "I can't hear you," Daryl shouted, "I'm takin a piss!" He knew he was being unreasonable, the moonshine had done its job and everything seemed far away and irrelevant. "Daryl! Don't be so loud," came Beth's voice from the living room. Although Beth hadn't meant anything by her earlier comment about jail, Daryl was mad at her for bringing it up, because it brought up all the past prejudices people had against him since he was a kid. "Wut? You my chaperone now," Daryl asked, turning Beth's earlier words on her. She turned away from him, not sure how to respond. Daryl zipped up his pants and suddenly started talking without even knowing what he was saying.

"Oh wait, it's my turn, right," he started, "I never, uh, I never eaten frozen yogurt." Daryl suddenly couldn't stand seeing Beth standing there. He knew he was being unreasonable, but at that moment, she was all those people who had ever called him trash, all those people who had ever looked down on him, all those people who had a nice family and couldn't understand his life. She was all those people and more. Daryl hated letting people get close but he had begun to actually care for Beth because she was the one person left in his group and even she thought he was some lowlife. The harsh words rose up from his lips, "I've never had a pet pony. I never got nothin from Santa Claus!" Daryl pushed over the closest chair, trying to get his anger out. "Never relied on anyone for protection before," Daryl continued, "Ha! I've never relied on anyone for anything!" "Daryl," Beth interrupted, trying to calm him. Her eyes were wide and he hated the scared look on her face but he just couldn't stop. "Never sung out in front of a big group in public like everything was fun, like everything was a big game," he said, remembering the time Hershel had Beth sing for everyone after they had gotten into the prison. "I sure as hell never cut my wrists lookin for attention," Daryl yelled while motioning at his own wrist. Beth stared at him, she didn't move or say anything.

Before Daryl could begin to even think that he had gone to far, he heard a growl from outside the window. Suddenly, the walker's very existence had him pissed off. Walkers are what had taken his brother, what had almost killed him multiple times. That son of a bitch! He wasn't going to let this one hang around, he hated all of them. He kicked some of the random junk in the room and it let out a satisfying clang. "Sounds like our friend could use some arrows in his butt," Daryl yelled, sick of all the walkers and all the death. "Shut up," Beth half whispered. Suddenly, an idea came to Daryl. He whipped around towards Beth. "Have you never shot a crossbow before," he demanded, still using the game reference. Beth shook her head warily. "I'm gonna teach you right now," Daryl proclaimed, grabbing Beth by the arm and pulling her up off the floor. She needed to learn how to protect herself and what better time than when there was only a single walker outside. "Com'on, let's go have fun," Daryl slurred as he dragged her towards the door. Beth pulled against him, but it was easy for him to drag her along. "No Daryl," Beth yelled, "We need to stay inside!" She kept yelling his name as he dragged her down the stairs.

Daryl spotted the walker, which was still right under the window where he had last seen it. "Dumbass," Daryl said to the walker. "Com' ere, Dumbass," he yelled, getting the walker's attention. The horrid creature turned around and headed towards them. Daryl lifted his crossbow and quickly shot a bolt through its stomach, pinning the walker to the telephone pole behind it. Perfect.

Beth was still saying his name, trying to talk some sense into him. "Here, you want to shoot," Daryl said, already lifting the crossbow strap over his head. This is what Beth needs to learn. My old man never taught me anything but I'm going to teach Beth to survive; she isn't going to end up like Merle. "I don't know how," Beth protested, moving back a bit. "Com' ere," Daryl said, grabbing Beth and pulling her into him. "It's easy," He explained as he brought the crossbow up so she could see how it worked. Daryl released the bolt and it sailed into the walker's side. He let Beth go while he reloaded the crossbow. "Let's practice later," Beth begged. "No," he yelled, "this is fun." He had never had anyone to teach him how to survive, but Beth needed to be taught. "Just stop it," she said. He didn't look up. "Daryl," Beth said, her voice rising with distress. Daryl finished loading the crossbow and grabbed Beth again, trying to show her how to release the bolt. "Just kill it," Beth pleaded. Daryl was out of bolts. "Com' ere Greene, lets pull these out and get some more target practice," he said, heading toward the moving corpse. Suddenly, Beth came from his left and stabbed the walker in the head with that knife of hers. "What the hell you do that for, we was havin fun," Daryl demanded.

Beth whipped around and there was fury in her eyes. "No," she yelled, "You were being a jackass!" Stray hairs had come out from her ponytail and were surrounding her face. "If anyone had found my dad…," she began. "Don't," Daryl cut in. He didn't want Beth feeling pity for these creatures, pity could get a person killed in this world. "Not even remotely the same," He said, getting up into her face and trying to make her understand. Daryl didn't want Beth dying like everyone else, but if she was going to treat them like the humans they had been, she didn't stand a chance. "Killing them is not supposed to be fun," she retorted. "What do you want from me girl," Daryl said, getting even closer. Beth lowered her eyes, Daryl could tell he was making her uncomfortable, but he couldn't stop himself. "Hunh," he said when she didn't respond. Finally, she looked up at him with those big beautiful blue eyes of hers. "I want you to stop actin like you don't give a crap about anything," she said bluntly, "like nothing we went through matters, like all the people we lost didn't mean anything to you." Daryl stepped back in surprise. How could Beth not see how much he cared, how much guilt he felt every day for what happened at the prison? "Is that what you think," Daryl asked. First, Beth accused him of being a criminal and now she was saying he didn't care about their group dying. "That's what I know," she said, looking unreasonable and distraught. Daryl wasn't about to let some girl half his age tell him he didn't care about their group after he had fought for them and fed them and protected them for years. "You don't know nothin," he replied. "I know you just look at me and see another dead girl," Beth countered. She didn't stop there though. "I'm not Michonne, I'm not Carol, I'm not Maggie," she began, "I survived and you don't get it cuz I'm not like you or them, but I made it! And you don't need to treat me like crap just because your afraid!" Beth spit out that last part.

Daryl knew Beth was drunk but what she was saying bothered him. "I ain't afraid of nothin," he hissed getting in her face again, daring her to say something. "I remember when that little girl came out of the barn, after my mom," Beth answered, "you were like me. And now God forbid you ever let anybody get too close." Daryl didn't want to hear this, Carol's daughter was just another person he had failed. He didn't need this Beth talking about her like she knew the situation. Beth didn't know anything about him and he wanted her to leave him alone. He knew he was going to say something mean, but he couldn't stop himself. He just wanted Beth to leave and quit bringing up all the bad memories. "To close, hunh, you know all about that," he said, pointed his finger at Beth. "You lost two boyfriends and you can't even she a tear," he accused. "Your whole family is gone," Daryl continued, "and you can't even shed a tear. All you can do is go out looking for booze like some dumb old college bitch!" Daryl knew better than to actually believe what he was saying but he wanted to make Beth feel the same hurt she was causing him to feel. "Screw you, you don't even get it," Beth said to him.

Daryl saw red, he couldn't believe that Beth thought he was so heartless as to not understand losing family. "No, you don't get it," Daryl yelled, "everyone we know is dead!" Beth's face suddenly changed, like she had been slapped. "We don't know that," she screamed. Something in Daryl just snapped. "They might as well be, cuz your never gonna see them again," Daryl shouted. Beth didn't reply this time. She stood there, her shoulders heaving. "You ain't ever gonna see Maggie again," Daryl insisted. "Daryl just stop," Beth pleaded as she reached for his arm. "NO," Daryl hollered, yanking his arm away from her hand. The emotions and memories that he had tried to keep down were coming up. He was the reason she wasn't going to see her family, he was the reason Beth wasn't safe inside the prison with her father. "The governor walked right up to our gates," Daryl said, seeing the image clearly in his mind. "Maybe if I wouldn't have stopped lookin," Daryl continued, "maybe cuz I gave up, that's on me!" He had finally said it, the truth was out in the open. "Daryl," Beth interrupted, but he shrugged her off. Daryl could feel the tears coming. "And your dad," Daryl said while glancing back at the young girl who was without both of her parents now. "Maybe I could have done something," Daryl said. The guilt threatened to overwhelm him.

Suddenly, small strong arms wrapped around his waist and he could feel Beth hugging him from behind. Her hair tickled the back of his neck. Daryl tried to gain control over himself but everything just came flooding back, all the death and all the disappointment. A tear slipped from his eye and suddenly he was sobbing. Beth tightened her arms around his waist and put her head on his shoulder. Daryl let himself be held until all of the tears ran out. Beth just held him, waiting patiently for him to finish. Finally, Daryl quit and the two of them just stood there. Birds chirped up in the trees and the leaves made sound as the wind moved them. Daryl put a hand on Beth's arms, which were holding him together. Slowly, Daryl's breathing began to calm down and the buzz from the moonshine wore off. Beth unwound her arms, which left Daryl feeling strangely empty. "Com'on," Beth encouraged, taking his hand and leading him back towards the house. Daryl obediently followed, too tired and emotionally worn out to argue. He looked down at the little white hand holding his big rough one. He gave Beth's hand a squeeze, he didn't want to let go. "It's gonna be alright," Beth said in a soothing tone as they entered the shack. Despite the apocalypse, despite the death, despite everything, Daryl believed her.