Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead nor am I in any way affiliated with the show, the comics or AMC. This is strictly a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only. Thanks.

A/N: As always, thanks to everyone who reviewed! I really do appreciate it, more than I could ever say. Here is my latest installment. I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I tried to dig around a lot in both Daryl and Beth's minds. I hope you enjoy what I pulled out of them. PLEASE be sure to REVIEW and let me know! Thanks so much and on to the chapter!

Hunted

Chapter Five

Daryl kept them on the train tracks until the sun was at its highest point in the sky. He kept quiet, speaking only when he absolutely had to and then keeping it blunt and succinct. Beth followed suit but her breath was coming in loud, small pants through her mouth. He knew that she was tired but he had to keep her moving. Hell, they hadn't stopped moving since he'd dragged her to her feet in that field. He knew she needed rest and he was determined to take care of her. At the very least he needed to get some food into her.

After sunset, he told himself. After he was certain that Joe was somewhere hunkered down for the night and not snapping at their heels. Only then would they stop. Then he would feed her, he would let her rest, he would let her know how glad he was to have her back at his side.

He nudged her off the tracks and into the cover of the trees. He slowed their pace, taking care not to make too much noise. If he could avoid leaving a trail of dead walkers for Joe to follow, it would definitely be for the best. Aside from that, Beth was in no shape to fend off an attack at the moment.

He had just been about to swing his crossbow onto his back when he spotted the rabbit, a fat brown thing. He aimed and fired without a thought. It was pure muscle memory. The bolt went through the rabbit's left eye, it didn't so much as twitch its tail. With a quick grin in his direction, Beth trotted up ahead to collect their meal. She pulled the bolt out, wiped it on her jeans and held it out to him as he drew nearer. She held the rabbit up by its ears and touched her free hand to the hilt of the knife at her hip.

"Should I clean it now?" she asked.

He remembered at time she flinched as so much as the sight of blood. Not anymore. Not his girl.

"Nah," he said, "that's dinner."

She nodded and tucked the carcass into the bag on his back. As they continued on their way, Daryl kept casting sideways glances in her direction. Finally, he gave into the impulse that had been nagging at him and asked, "How ya holdin' up?"

"Are you kiddin'?" she said, turning her head to look at him, "I thought I'd never see you again, Daryl."

"I followed the car, Beth," Daryl blurted. He needed to tell her that; needed to make sure that she knew he had come after her, "I did. I kept followin' it 'til I came to a fork in the road. Even I can't track a car over asphalt."

"Daryl," Beth said, her tone so gentle it physically hurt him.

Daryl kept staring straight ahead, so she stopped walking and repeated his name, "Daryl, look at me."

He did stop walking but couldn't seem to bring himself to turn and face her. He was too frightened of what he might see on her face. Disbelief? Accusation? Disgust? Disappointment?

"Please, look at me, Daryl," she pleaded.

Jaw tight, shoulders tense, he turned. There were tears welled up in those big pretty eyes of hers. Her chin and bottom lip were quivering. In that moment, Daryl knew that he would give anything to take her pain away. All she had to do was ask it of him. Then, something astounding happened. She smiled. Stepping forward, she laid one hand on his forearm. She was the only person that ever been able to touch him and it not cause him to involuntarily flinch away from the contact. Her blue eyes bore directly into his own, "Daryl, when I saw you through those bars, it was the happiest moment of my life."

The words didn't register all at once. It must have shown in the blank expression on his face because she was prompted to repeat, "Of my entire life."

The softly spoken sentiment caught him hard in the gut. He would do anything for her. He would kill for her, die for her, go to the ends of the earth and the gates of hell for her. No one was going to take her from him again. Maybe he had used it as a front when he had said it earlier, but the words had held more truth than he had been ready to acknowledge.

Beth Greene belonged to him.

He wasn't so good with words. Never had been. Please, the realization was still too new, too raw. He reached over and squeezed her arm. Then he broke the contact and started walking again.

Beth wasn't upset or offended at his seeming lack of response. She fell into step behind him. He didn't have to speak. He didn't have to say anything at all. She knew that he was just as happy as she was that they were back together. Still smiling, she wiped a teardrop from her cheek and took a few quick steps until she was walking by his side—right where she belonged.

As duck approached and the sun began to sink behind the trees, Beth's steps began to grow clumsy. It was fatigue setting in. She was crashing. Daryl grasped her elbow to try and help steady her. He took in the state of the sky. It was beginning to get dark. Joe and the boys would be looking for somewhere to bunk down for the night.

He would do the same.

He wouldn't set up camp outside though. He didn't want to risk a fire, not when Joe was so damned good at spotting them from a distance. No.

Besides, he wanted to find a house for Beth. Somewhere she could rest and be at least a little comfortable while doing it.

It was well into the night when they finally found one. It was bigger than Daryl would have liked; a two story plantation style house that would be a bitch to sweep and secure. But beggars couldn't be choosers and he would make it work. He pulled his crossbow from his back and looked to Beth. She had already unsheathed the buck knife. He didn't like the idea of her going in with just the knife. If someone was gonna take on a walker hand to hand, he'd rather it be him. He toyed with the notion of giving her his bow but just as quickly dismissed it. She was a decent shot, no doubt. But she was exhausted, weak. He didn't know if her arms could support its weight in her current state and he didn't want to take the chance. He had another knife, smaller than the buck but just as sharp. If he had to use it, he could.

They went through the house together, one room at a time. It was locked up tight, the windows boarded up, the doors all nailed shut. There were two walkers. Daryl easily dispatched the first with a bolt and Beth took out the second with a quick upward thrust of the knife. Daryl couldn't help but smile at the way she cringed just a little when her hand came away covered in the unnaturally dark walker blood. He reloaded the bow and motioned for her to keep moving.

They swept the house both upstairs and down, but it was the basement that caught Daryl's attention. It was mostly underground with six small windows at the tops of the walls. The windows were level with the ground and Daryl would be able to see if anyone approached with a minimal risk of them seeing him. The floor of the basement was concrete. He could build a small fire, let the smoke vent through the slats of the windows. That wasn't ideal but it was definitely less risky than chimney smoke. He decided that the basement would make the perfect shelter for the night.

Before they settled in though, they needed to see if there was anything usable in the rest of the house.

In one room, Beth discovered a brown leather messenger bag and a hatchet. She tucked the hatched through her belt loop, knowing that Daryl would be happy to have his buck knife returned to him. She also discovered a sleeping bag that was a little mucky but clean, a battery operated lantern that still had some juice in it and a couple of pillows. She hauled her treasures down to the basement before returning to the main level to hunt some more.

In another part of the house, Daryl found a dark green sweater that looked like it would fit Beth. He took that along with a little white sleeveless shirt that he had come across as well. It wasn't much, but he knew that she would appreciate some clean clothes. One his way to the door, he spotted a pretty little blue blanket with pink and green flowers all over it. It may have been the most girly thing he had ever seen and it didn't look particularly warm, either. It wasn't practical in the slightest. Still, he found himself tucking it under his arm for her.

Scattered throughout the emptied out kitchen, Beth had found two cans of spinach, one can of corn and one can of hot dog chili with beans. Not a bad haul all together.

A grunt from the hallway drew her attention. She pulled the hatchet from her belt loop and crept forward. What she saw was Daryl attempting to maneuver a mattress down the basement stairs. She didn't quite know what to make of the sight.

"What're you doin'?" she asked.

"We're about to spend the night in a reasonably secure basement. No reason to sleep on concrete if we don't hafta."

It was the first time she had laughed in a more than a week.

Once they were downstairs, Beth busied herself by shaking out the sleeping bag and spreading it out over the surface of the mattress. Daryl cleaned and roasted the rabbit over a small fire that he had built underneath one of the windows. Once the animal was cooked through, he immediately stomped the fire out. The lantern that Beth had found provided a dim light as Daryl split the rabbit into two portions and discreetly slipped Beth the bigger of the two. He crossed the room to the mattress and set the plates on the floor.

"Take off your boots and socks," he told her, sitting on the edge of the mattress and pulling off his own boots, "lay 'em flat. They need to dry."

Beth nodded and did as he said. The soles of her feet were white and wrinkled and tender. Funny, she hadn't noticed any discomfort until she saw them. It was amazing what the brain could block out when need be. She was massaging her sore toes when she spotted the small pile of material at the corner of the mattress.

"What's this?" she asked.

Daryl glanced up from his food. When he spoke, it was around a mouthful of rabbit, "Thought you might want some dry clothes. Found those upstairs. Looked like they might fit."

He was rewarded with her radiant smile and the sight of it caused his breath to catch in the back of his throat. Again and again, she continued to bewilder him. She'd seen her mother and step brother gunned down in front of her, watched her father be murdered, lost her sister, been abducted and subjected to God knows what, and on top of all that, she'd had orders continually barked out at her by a white trash redneck twice her age. All that, and still, she could smile at him like that over something as small as a sweater. She smiled at him in that way, he felt like he could take on the world.

She stood and turned her back to him before removing the dark flannel shirt that he had given to her from her shoulders. Then, she peeled the filthy, torn once yellow polo up her torso and over her head. Daryl stopped chewing mid-bite. A nuclear warhead could have gone off outside and he didn't think he would have been able to pull his eyes away from that smooth, pale expanse of skin. He could hear the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears, the back of his neck grew uncomfortably warm and his fingertips began to tingle. She didn't know what she was doing to him. She couldn't. She had the prettiest back he had ever seen, all lean muscle and soft skin. He imagined he could span the curve of her waist with his two hands.

It was as though the world had slipped into slow motion as he watched her pull on the clothes he had rummaged up for her. When she had the sweater on, she turned back to face him and Daryl quickly averted his eyes. He had never thought himself to be a lech before, but then somewhere along the way he had stopped thinking of Beth as a child and seen her as the woman she had become. When had that happened? After the prison was taken? Before? It all blurred together; a collage of moments, conversations and stolen glances. She was the only person that he had ever let get away with hugging him. More than once, too.

And now she was his; his to provide for, his to take care of, his to protect—his to cherish.

She sat back down on the mattress to eat her meal. Daryl took a breath to fortify himself, licked his fingers clean then grabbed his bag. From within it, he withdrew the soft gauzy blanket that had caught his eye upstairs. He took just a moment to run it through his hands. It was silky and delicate. Perfect.

Just like her.

He cleared his throat, "Um, I, uh, I saw this upstairs. Thought you might—you know."

He held out his offering.

Still smiling, Beth's gaze dropped to the gift in his hand. Slowly, the smile faded from her lips as she reached from the beautiful floral throw. Once it was in her hands, she could feel how thin it was, how light. It was far from the most practical of blankets. Her eyes left the dainty material and met his steady blue stare.

She knew then that he wasn't giving her this blanket as something to help her survive. He had wanted her to have something pretty. He had wanted to give her something pretty.

It was the most beautiful present she had ever received.

She had been half in love with Daryl Dixon for at least a year. To jump over that second half and into all the way had taken nothing at all. A blanket.

As he looked at her, she wanted to hold him; to have him hold her.

But he cleared his throat again, looked away from her and went back to eating. The moment was lost. Beth felt the smile reclaim her face. She wasn't worried. She would have another moment. There were very few things in this world that she was sure of, but she was sure of that.

Joe sat in an old beat up lawn chair on the roof of the double wide trailer that he and the boys were shacking up in for the night. It was more meager accommodations than he usually went for nowadays but his options had been significantly limited. They had spotted train tracks off in the distance as the sun had started to set. He considered himself a betting man and train tracks seemed like a sure thing to him. They made for a great path to follow and a good way to hide which direction you went. Joe hadn't wanted to stop. He felt a fire in the pit of his gut that told him he was closing in.

But he couldn't travel by night. The boys got twitchy in the dark. Jumpy. Useless.

So, he sat on top of the trailer and scanned the darkened horizon. He didn't see any signs of fire, but then Daryl was smarter than that. Yes. Yes, his bowman was a clever one. Clever and skilled.

A worthy prey.

A/N: Well, that's all for now. I know that not a lot happened in this chapter, but I really felt that Beth and Daryl deserved a little bit of a breather. Also, I wanted a chance to explore how they were feeling about each other while they weren't constantly on the move. How did you feel about it? Please, please, please review and let me know!