A/N: This chapter is short and sweet, but... I thought something was better than nothing.. ;)

As always, thank you for all of the reviews! You all rock. Thanks, too, for anyone who has newly followed or favorited the story. You mean a lot!

Anyway, enjoy!

Chapter 19

Daryl began to drift into consciousness because of the vicious pounding inside his head. He was unusually warm, and he could feel softness pressing into the front and back of him as he lay on his side, his head pillowed on one arm. He inhaled deeply and imagined it was what the beach would smell like; coconut, warmth, and sunshine.

Something under his other arm stirred, and his eyes shot open to find that his face was buried in a mass of smooth, light blonde hair. He froze, slowly lifting his head up to look around. Daylight was streaming in through the windows, and though Daryl was fully dressed, the lithe body that he had his arm slung over was wearing nothing but tiny purple shorts and a white lacy bra. He let his eyes wander along the smooth expanse of her skin for a few seconds, until he felt like a pervert and shifted his gaze.

He was lying aligned along back of the couch in Beth's living room with Beth herself curled in front of him, her round ass pressed back against his very prevalent morning hardness. He panicked, not sure how he was going to maneuver out from behind her without waking her up and humiliating them both.

Just then, the pounding noise happened again, only Daryl realized it wasn't coming from inside of his head; it was coming from the front door. The sound was loud, echoing through the cabin, and Beth finally began to stir. Daryl's only two options were to either climb over her and risk waking her, or lay there until she woke up on her own. Before she could come fully into consciousness, he picked the lesser of two evils and climbed out from behind her. She rolled back into the emptiness of where he'd been and became fully awake. She sat up, not facing him, so Daryl turned away and took the second he had to adjust himself in his pants. How the fuck did they get here?

The knocking happened again, and Beth rolled off of the couch, did a silent double-take at Daryl standing in her living room, and then began walking for the door.

She was so groggy, she hasn't realized she wasn't dressed.

Daryl cleared his throat, feeling his ears and neck begin to burn. "Uh, Beth… hold up."

When she turned back to him, he averted his face and scooped her shirt off of the floor at his feet, holding it out to her.

She squeaked and snatched it out of his hand. The knocking persisted, and he heard her bare feet slap against the hardwood as she jogged to the door.

He considered sneaking out of the back just to avoid an awkward confrontation with her whenever she came back, but was he that much of a fucking coward?

His mind wandered to the feel of her pressed snuggly up against the entire front of him, and he became antsy. He glanced at the backdoor, pacing; maybe he could be a coward. Just this once.

He looked around the living room, but couldn't find his boots or socks anywhere; and his truck keys weren't in his pocket, either. Escaping would do more harm than good; eventually he'd have to come back for his stuff and face the added embarrassment of having run away.

He heard her pull the front door open and Beth's startled voice said, "Sheriff Grimes!"

Daryl froze. What on earth could Rick be there for?

Just then, like a flood, the discombobulated memories of last night slammed into him and Daryl had to sit down at the onslaught. Fuck, what had they done last night?

He could hear their muffled voices coming from the doorway, so he stood up and walked into the front room, feeling like he was in a daze. This could not be fucking happening.

Rick stopped midsentence as Daryl approached; Daryl knew what they must look like. With his surely disheveled hair, wrinkled clothing, and bare feet, and Beth; well, Beth was in nothing but that thin shirt he'd handed her and the shorts that barely covered the curve of her ass; it looked like they'd been sleeping together.

He felt a little guilty for the implication, even if he hadn't done it on purpose.

"Daryl, your trailer," Beth said to him wide-eyed. "It burned down last night."

Holy shit, did she not remember? It was even her fucking idea. If Rick caught even the faintest whiff of it being their fault, though, they could be facing some serious arson charges; especially with it being in the middle of the woods like that. Looking back on it, it was kind of a stupid thing for them to do, even for two drunk assholes.

"Shit," Daryl said smoothly. "We must've left a candle burnin' after we grabbed my stuff yesterday afternoon."

Right before Beth threw both of her hands over her mouth, as though in shock, Daryl caught the huge smile threatening to give them away.

So she did remember. Clever girl.

Rick cleared his throat, and Daryl caught sight of Shane glaring at him from over Rick's shoulder. "Do you mind if we ask you two a few questions?" Rick asked.

"Of course not," Beth said, having composed herself. The seriousness of the situation must have sunk in and dampened her mood. She swung the door wide, stepping back to let them both enter.

Daryl glowered back at Shane as he came over the threshold, glaring at Daryl with a look that promised retribution. They'd always hated each other, but after Daryl got off on the charges for attacking Zach, Shane had gotten more personal about it.

The burned down trailer was going to be hard to get passed them.

"I'm going to go throw on something… warmer," Beth told them, blushing as she glanced at Daryl and then away. She left the three of them standing in her living room, all eying each other suspiciously.

"Where were you last night?" Shane said, sneering at Daryl.

"Here, obviously," Daryl quipped back.

"Guys, cool it," Rick said, turning to look pointedly back at Shane.

Beth left her room wearing a pair of light pink sweatpants that hugged her long, curvy legs. She'd run a brush through her hair, and she looked gorgeous despite the fact they'd only woken up five minutes ago.

"Can I get you guys any tea to drink? Or water?" She asked politely, smiling at Rick and Shane.

They both said they'd take a bottle of water, and Daryl's eyes accidentally wandered to her perky ass as she walked into her kitchen; it had ANGEL written across the back in bold, white letters. He felt his stomach clench, and he averted his gaze before either of the deputies caught onto what had his attention.

When she came back from the fridge, she handed each of the men a bottle of cold water, including Daryl, even though he hadn't asked for one.

She and Rick sat on the couch comfortably together, while Daryl stayed on his feet near Beth's elbow, and Shane stood his ground from the other side of the coffee table.

"We'd gotten a call that someone had seen the smoke early this morning," Rick began.

"I'm surprised you two didn't see it; seeing as how close together you live and all," Shane added, the accusation clear in his voice.

"We obviously overslept," Beth said pointedly, narrowing her eyes up at Shane.

"Up late, were you?" Shane remarked.

"Very." Beth retorted, flashing white teeth at him in a grin that implied all kinds of things that made Daryl's neck burn in embarrassment.

Rick, looking as uncomfortable with the turn in conversation as Daryl was, turned back to Beth and asked gently, "Can you tell me where all you were yesterday?"

Politely, Beth smiled at Rick, ignoring Shane's aggressive stare. "Well, I woke up at Daryl's apartment," she said, pausing to let that implication sink in, too. "Then I drove into the diner in Daryl's truck, since my Jeep was still here, along with the motorcycle."

Daryl was impressed with how smoothly she was lying to the cops, about his motorcycle already being there; making it look like it hadn't just suspiciously been moved from the trailer recently. She was good, and something about her lying to the law for him, after they'd gotten drunk and committed arson together, sent Daryl's stomach twisting into tighter knots.

"Sasha, Carol, Lori, and I all took a trip to Atlanta for the afternoon. Surely Lori mentioned it?" Beth asked. Once Rick nodded affirmation, she continued, "Anyway, we shopped most of the day, but then I left to go pick Daryl up from work around 4:30, 4:45. Surely his boss and co-workers could attest to that, as well."

Daryl groaned inwardly. The shop. He was supposed to be in to work that morning; they didn't even have a way to get a hold of him to call and see why he wasn't there.

"After that, Daryl drove to his trailer to grab some of his overnight stuff, and then we came back to my place. We've been here all night."

Rick nodded, contemplating her story.

Beth bit her lip, looking down at the hands she had twisting on her lap, and said, "I've just been… well, I've been too scared to stay in the cabin by myself for now. All the stuff with Zach… It's still a little fresh, you know?"

At her vulnerable admission, Shane broke his stare at Daryl, shifting uncomfortably, and Rick's face seemed to relax from its guarded expression. "Yeah," he said slowly. "That's understandable."

"I'm sorry about the trailer," Beth said quietly. "The electricity was out, and I lit a bunch of candles so we could see while Daryl was grabbing his stuff. I thought I blew them all out, but… maybe I forgot one of the ones in the bathroom or something. Nothing else burned down, right? No forest fires or anything?"

"No," Rick said, patting her hand consolingly, "the forest is fine. Don't worry about it, Beth. Things happen. I can see it was an honest mistake."

As Rick rose and thanked them for their time, Daryl released a ribcage full of air he hadn't realized he'd been holding on to. It looked like they weren't going to bother asking him anything at all. The word of sweet, innocent little Beth was enough to exonerate the both of them, it seemed.

Daryl followed Beth as she walked them to the door. Shane exited without another word or glance at either of them, but Beth put her hand on Rick's arm before he turned away from her.

"By the way," she said sweetly, "I wanted to thank you in person for everything you did when it came to Zach. My daddy filled me in on most of it; finding out his prior crimes, his fake name, all of it. I've been having a rough couple of nights, but knowing Zach is in Boston awaiting trial… well, I'll sleep better at night in no time."

Rick frowned at Beth, which, to Daryl, seemed a bit out of place in the face of her gratitude, but then Rick said, "No one told you?"

"Told me what?" Beth asked, glancing back at Daryl. He shrugged his shoulders; he had no idea what Rick was referring to.

Rick shifted a little, bracing himself, and said, "Zach is dead. The helicopter that they were flying him to Boston in had a mechanical malfunction. It went down en route, and only one of the pilots survived."

"Oh my god, that's terrible," Beth breathed, putting a hand over her open mouth.

Daryl, the asshole that he was, didn't feel terrible about it at all. That prick got exactly what he deserved; to die in an eruption of flames while strapped to a metal gurney. Daryl hoped the fucker had suffered. Plus, that way, Beth would never have to relive her fear in another 15 years if Zach got pardoned early for 'good behavior' or some stupid shit. That he was gone for good was a relief.

Daryl looked at Beth's sad face and hated that she was so kindhearted as to actually shed tears for the sick fuck that had attacked her. He stepped closer to her, not sure what she needed from him. She turned and pressed her face into his shoulder, wrapping both arms around his waist as though she'd done it a million times before. Awkwardly, he wrapped one of his arms around her shoulders and glowered at Rick from under his hair; daring him to comment.

Rick's mouth quirked up in an odd sort of smile, to Daryl's surprise, and the sheriff said, "I'm sorry to have bothered you, and about the news I had to bring. You folks have a good day, alright?"

"Thanks," Daryl said, feeling genuinely confused at the other man's change in demeanor.

As Rick pulled the door shut behind him, Beth looked up at Daryl with a tearful face. "I wished for this," she said, sniffling. "I'm a horrible person, Daryl. I wanted him dead so that he couldn't…"

"Stop," Daryl told her. "I wanted tha' fucker dead worse than you did. If he could've died by thought alone, it would have been me who'd 'ave killed 'im."

Beth nodded, stepping back out of his embrace, and began wiping her eyes on her shirt sleeves. She laughed a little, pulling in deep, steadying breaths, as she said, "I'm such a mess. I get out of the hospital, and in two days, I've managed to become a squatter, get you drunk, convince you to burn down your dad's trailer, make you late for work, force you to put up with me… Lie to the POLICE; Lori's husband, of all people!"

Daryl chuckled at her, "Yeah, I ain't never seen anyone get out o' an arson charge scott-free like tha'. It's too bad y'were born in a nice part o' town; you'd have made a great criminal. You're a natural."

Beth laughed a little at his teasing, and smiled up at him. "That was really fun," she admitted.

"Wha' was?" he asked.

"Burning down the trailer," she whispered, grinning.

"It was, wasn't it?" he agreed, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling back at her.

Suddenly, as Daryl stared down at her big blue eyes, he recalled one of his last memories of the night; Beth pulling herself up by his shirt to plant her lips against his.

He felt like she was too close all of a sudden, and abruptly stepped back, severing the connection. "I'm late for work," he grumbled, looking around the room for his boots. He found his keys lying on top of the bag full of tools that he'd left by the door, and both socks were on the small couch in her front room. One of his boots was in the entrance to the kitchen, and the other was lying underneath the table.

He couldn't even begin to imagine how they'd gotten kicked off in such a haphazardly fashion.

Once they were on, he grabbed his keys and bag of tools, and bid her goodbye.

She called his name as he got to her yard, and he turned to see her at the top of her steps. "Thanks, by the way," she said.

He nodded briefly, not entirely sure he wanted to know what all she was thanking him for. Hopefully, she didn't remember anything about last night that he hadn't.

Once he pulled into work, he hopped out of the truck and strode across the parking lot, feeling antsy. He knew Ron would be pissed; he didn't put up with slackers.

Oscar and Ian were busy changing out a muffler underneath a sedan, when they caught sight of him walking up.

"Wow, you look a little worse for wear," Ian said, standing from his prone position underneath the carriage. "Isn't that the same shirt you were wearing yesterday when that gasket broke and leaked oil all over you…?"

"Same pants, too," Oscar said, before his face lit up. "Oh shiiiiit!"

Ian frowned at his excitement, and Daryl made a beeline for the front door, trying to escape what he knew was coming. As soon as he walked into the lobby, Oscar and Ian were pouring in through the side door.

"Walk of shame!" Oscar shouted at him.

"What?" Mark asked, looking up from the computer. "Oh, hey Daryl. Everything alright?"

"I'm fine," Daryl grunted back.

"Dude's wearin' the same clothes as when Jeep girl picked him up in his truck yesterday," Oscar announced to everyone. "Walk. Of. Shame! Am I right, Holmes?!"

Daryl could feel his neck burning, but all he said was, "Shut up."

At that, Ian and Oscar broke into laughter, high-fiving each other for managing to make Daryl uncomfortable. Daryl rolled his eyes and looked over at Mark, who was also a little red in the face. The boy was too damn shy; he wasn't even the one being razzed and he was embarrassed.

"I didn't sleep with Beth," Daryl said, irritated.

"Whatever," Oscar said, slapping him on the back. "You're in pretty deep; I've seen it. You're so fucked."

He and Ian chuckled as they made their way back into the shop, leaving Daryl simmering in the lobby with Mark, who looked like he wished he were invisible.

"Where's Ron?" Daryl snapped at Mark, seeing that Ron's office was open, empty, and dark.

"He's in Atlanta for the day," Mark said. "He called and said he'd be back either tomorrow or Friday. It's been really slow, you haven't missed anything."

"A'right," Daryl said, feeling a little less tense. He grabbed the detailed parts list of inventory off of the counter behind the register and went into Ron's office to use the computer in there. He needed privacy and time to cool down.

The shop finally closed down a quarter after 8. The guys on the evening shift all poked their heads into the office to bid Daryl goodbye as they filtered out for the night. After he'd completed uploading the inventory list, he decided that he'd more than made up for the lateness of his arrival that morning.

Standing, he began clearing Ron's desk off of his afternoon of paperwork. He paused, looking at the phone, trying to decide if he should call Beth. He picked up the receiver and listened to the dial tone for a minute before hanging it back up. She was probably fine. She didn't need him calling her so late at night.

He went into the front to file the inventory list in a quarterly binder they had set up for hard copies, and then locked up all of the cabinets and drawers. He leaned against the back counter, looking once again at the phone sitting by the register. He thought back to the night he'd gotten the terrible voicemail from her, and decided it wouldn't hurt to just check on her…

Daryl went back into the office and sat down at Ron's desk, sliding the phone to him. He didn't know Beth's number by heart, so he began scrolling through the past phone history, hoping that when she'd called the shop two nights ago, it was with a phone listed under her name.

Then he found it; Beth Greene.

Hitting the button to redial her number, he pressed the phone to his ear and bounced his leg as he waited.

After a couple of rings, he heard her soft voice at the other end, "Hello?"

"Hey," he said lamely, "It's me."

"Hi Daryl," she answered, and he could actually hear the damn smile in her voice.

Silence stretched as she waited for him to say something; he was meanwhile gathering up the courage. He didn't want to come off sounding like he was expecting anything from her, or like she was a pity case. He wanted to help, but wasn't sure how to go about it.

"Everythin' a'right?" he asked, clearing the sudden knot in his throat.

"Quiet so far," she responded lightly, her breath tickling the receiver. He pictured her lying on the couch, curled up under blankets. He remembered that her bedroom door was still broken. "You?"

"Uh… fine," he responded, feeling awkward. "Jus' gettin' ready to head out. Since I don' have a phone yet, I jus' thought I oughtta…" he trailed off. Why was it so hard for him to just be normal around her? He didn't stumble over himself around the guys at the shop, or anyone else for that matter.

"Check up on me?" she finished for him, and he could still hear the smile.

"Yeah," he said lamely, shaking his head at himself.

"I'm alright," she assured him. "I have to sleep here sometime; get used to my place again, you know?"

Not this soon, he thought. He felt like he wanted her back at his apartment, sleeping next to him on his mattress. It was a weird thing to ask someone, though.

So, instead, he said, "Yeah…"

"Thanks, though, for thinking about me."

"Have a g'night," he said roughly, feeling the conversation at its end.

"You too, Daryl. Sweet dreams."

He grunted at her; his dreams had never quite been 'sweet.' He hung up after he heard the click of her phone being disconnected.

Tomorrow, he told himself, he was going to get a phone, even if it meant switching phone companies and breaking his current contract. They'd taken too damn long trying to fix his phone as it was.

Daryl drove home, glad for the short distance between work and his new apartment. He'd hauled in the bags of shit that Beth had bought for him and laid them near the entrance, not really sure what he was going to do with all of it.

He sat on the floor and began digging through the sacks, pulling out the mats and towels she'd bought for the bathroom, as well as the shower curtain. It couldn't hurt to use them, he thought. He hated that he only had one ratty towel to use and that his showers were always cold and drafty since he didn't have any sort of curtain at all.

After throwing the mats down on the floor without bothering to pull off the tags, and using the hooks to hang the shower curtain on the rod, Daryl peeled his dirty clothes off and took a long, hot shower.

Once he got out and used one of the soft, grey towels to dry off with, he felt like an asshole. He should have invited her over to stay the night. Especially now that he had a comforter and actual pillows, thanks to her.

He padded out into his kitchen with the towel secured around his hip bones. The time on his stove was nearly 10 p.m.

Daryl wasn't sure if she would still be up, but if she was actually afraid of being alone in her cabin, then she was probably wide awake.

He went into his room and stopped at the doorway, staring at her huge white comforter that was still wadded in a huge ball on his bed. Surely she'd need that, wouldn't she? It was pretty cold out now that they were into the beginning of December. She'd probably forgotten it there because he'd rushed her out of his apartment so quickly that morning; or because she'd hoped she'd be coming back.

Walking to the closet, he pulled some clean clothes on followed by a warm jacket; his mind already made up. He folded her blanket into a manageable pile, slipped his boots on, and headed out of the door.

He was just going to drop her comforter off; that was all. He didn't need to see her face-to-face just to make sure she was truly alright. It was just a quick drive and then he could come home and sleep.

As he climbed into his truck and started the engine, he studiously ignored the tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach.

It was nothing, he told himself. Nothing at all.

He was such a fucking liar.