Author's Note: To any of you wondering, their relationship is changing already; one only has to look closely to see. But love can't be rushed, especially when we're talking about the Dixon brothers.

I cannot express my appreciation enough to all the amazing people still with me on this crazy ride. Thank you.

[For those of you who were following this story since the beginning, I just want to inform that this is where I had stopped before, so from this chapter on, it's all new content]

Disclaimer: A girl owns nothing.

Half an hour, that's how much time she managed to buy Luna. Half an hour.

Surely there was a limit to how much a person can stand, emotionally, before she became numb to the world. If there was one, Beth was approaching it. Fast.

As time passed, she just stood there, gun in hand, watching the lifeless body lying in front of her. The body of the girl she murdered — one way or the other. A young girl, with dreams and aspirations for the future — a future which had been stolen from her so early on.

Did she wish to travel? To attend college? To marry? All dreams Beth had had for herself before.

Perhaps the life of this little girl mattered so much to Beth because it reminded her of a time she felt was now too far away. Luna had been young, scared, incapable and unfortunate. All adjectives that could've very well been used to describe her, just as much as the little girl. In fact, that was how Daryl had described her at a certain point.

Who knew, in some days that could be her, lying dead on a dirty floor. Forgotten.

Footsteps interrupted her dark musings, uncommonly loud for the brothers — which left Beth wondering if they were making noise on purpose to warn her of their presence or if she was just too sensitive to anything at the moment.

Merle extended his hand, without another word — the request was apparent. And Beth didn't hesitate; she practically shoved the gun in his hands — eager to rid the terrible weight of it from her hands.

If he was bothered by the blood staining his gun, Merle never showed. His face remained stoically neutral, a mirror of his brother's look. Both faces carefully controlled, probably afraid of how she would react. After all, they most likely thought that was all she still hadn't pulled — a real panic attack, to attract all walkers within' hearing distance and threaten their lives.

Stupid little Beth.

Perhaps she should be allowed a panic attack. Perhaps she had the right to cry and feel terrible. Perhaps she should allow the tears to fall. It was all just so unfair. How much more should she take in silence? How much more?

Would good news finally come?

"Beth?" Daryl's unexpected voice cut through her thoughts like a knife; His smooth, quiet tone reminding her of where she was.

Beth couldn't allow herself to forget all the good that had already happened in her life. Not too long ago she thought Daryl was dead because of her. But he wasn't; he was alive. He was right there, as was Merle, and they hadn't abandoned her so far — even though it would've been so easy for them to do so.

And, if she had to choose, no matter how selfish that might have been, Beth would pick the brothers over anybody else in that tiny house. They were her only connection to her old life and the only ones who she could count on to keep her alive.

"I wanna bury her," Beth finally answered back, not even pausing to think about it.

The need to give Luna a proper — or as proper as she could — funeral took her by surprise. It wasn't something she could explain, not really; She just needed it.

"I don't think-" Daryl began to say, but was quickly shut down by his brother.

"No, she's right. We shouldn't just leave her here," Merle expressed, surprising both the occupants in the room.

Beth nodded numbly, not really knowing how to proceed with her own wishes. How did one go about burying someone?

Should she go looking for some tool? Should she just crunch on the ground and dig with her bare hands?

Suddenly Merle shoved something into her hands — Beth couldn't be bothered to pay attention to what it was. He told her to dig, so she did. Perhaps he realized she needed to do something; to be on the move. Beth's body was unresponsive to any form of command she wished to give it; it moved, that's all.

She saw the brothers digging as well, in a profound silence. For once, she was glad they were so taciturn — Beth was afraid they'd open their mouths and only Luna's words would come out instead. The silence was better.

She dug. There was only the soft ground beneath her feet and the purpose of making a hole in it. Beth needed to keep digging; she could not stop. She chose to ignore the blood on her hands — it had already dried out between her fingers, warm and disgusting. Beth only gripped the tool harder. She wouldn't let it affect her; she was fine. She was great. Amazing, really.

"...Beth!" Merle grabbed her arms, shaking her ever so slightly.

She jumped into the air, frightened beyond belief by the sudden hold of her.

"Just stop, alright? It's big enough already," He said, taking the shovel — it was an old shovel, she noticed — out of her hands.

"There's no need for you to hurt yourself further."

"What?" She whispered. She wasn't hurt; she didn't understand. Merle looked pointedly at her hands, and Beth realized she was, indeed, hurt. There were blisters on the inside of her hands, some had torn open and were leaking fluid.

"Ah, it's nothing," she said. "This is nothing."

And it was; she wasn't lying. She knew it was supposed to be hurting, but it wasn't.

Nothing hurt. Perhaps because all of her was already hurting.

XxXxXxxxxXxxXxxX

They sat around the fire, neither speaking nor looking at each other. At one point, food was placed in front of Beth, and mechanically she ate it — an instinctual response more than actual hunger. If someone asked what it was, Beth had no way of answering — the action of chewing and swallowing was done by repetition, she flavored nothing.

Her mind was chaos. Killing Jonathan had been about survival. Beth wasn't okay with it, not even close, but she could at least try to pretend it hadn't been murder on her part. Luna, however, was just a child — had been just a kid. Beth could still hear the words ringing in her head.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank.

You.

Was it not enough that she had been tortured, beaten, humiliated and dragged through psychological hell? Why would the world allow her time to save Luna only to let her die so soon after it?

All of a sudden, Beth heard a choked noise as if someone was struggling to take a breath. She finally raised her eyes to look at the boys, but they were already facing her — mouths shut, eyes squinted. The sound was not coming from either of them. Was there someone coming their way?

"Beth..." Daryl spoke softly as if he was scared of spoking her. "Breathe."

What? Why was he telling her to breathe? Beth was breathing just fine.

The sound of choking became louder, and Beth suddenly felt a sting in her eyes, blurring her vision and spreading a warmth to her face. She raised her hands to her face and immediately felt a wetness there. There were tears running down her face. Rapidly.

"Beth!" Daryl called again, more sharply and commanding. His face was a mixture of concern and discomfort — probably fearing Beth would bring half the walkers of the state towards them.

That's when she realized the sound came from her. The through felt ray and closed, but the pathetic sound kept coming out of her mouth — like a scared deer.

She tried to stop; to contain the ridiculous tears running down her face as well as the ragged breaths, but her lame body didn't respond to any of her efforts.

Her body wouldn't answer her calls, and desperation began to surge inside her at each new failed attempt to calm down. It was all too much. Her mind was playing the scene over and over again, faster the longer it went. Luna laying on the floor, Luna asking if she was going to die, Luna crying, and, finally, the dull sound of the bullet. Air became scarce; the world began to spin. It was all too much. Beth's mind wouldn't shut up.

She reached up and delved her hands into her hair, pulling at the roots, trying to ground herself somehow.

Stop it, Beth.

Shit.

She closed her eyes — squeezing them shut in an attempt to ignore the rest of the world.

And suddenly strong arms were wrapped around her, encasing her torso and lifting her off the ground and into somebody's lap. They held her too tightly, preventing her movement with its strength. Beth felt claustrophobic; trapped in a cage. Her body was rebelling. She struggled, trying to breathe and run at the same time.

The just had to get out. Out.

"Kiddo... need to calm down... hurt yourself... common...work with me..." The voice penetrated her mind — a whisper amongst the screams going around in her head.

Beth knew that voice. It was familiar, almost comforting. Who was whispering in her ear?

"Beth, breathe!" The order was clear.

Silence.

Breathe.

Beth ceased her struggle, going limp in Merle's lap. It was suddenly clear that he was the one who held her as tightly as steel. His voice was the whisper, the order.

The air began to flow back into her body, seeping into every corner of her insides.

Slowly Beth surroundings became clear. There was no walker in sight, thankfully. Just the three of them, around the fire. She noticed Daryl looking at her face — his blue eyes sharp and open, a distinct difference from his usual hooded glare at the world. He leaned forward, almost touching Merle's knee. He never did touch any of them, however, in a sharp contrast of Beth, who was currently touching every inch of his older brother.

Her own body conscience came last, as Beth noticed the exact position in which she found herself. She was sitting in Merle's lap, leaning against his strong chest while his arms surrounded her middle, caging her in his grasp. Her hands, she noticed, were gripping his forearms, her nails digging into his flesh strongly enough for tiny streams of blood to flow down.

Beth could feel his steadying heartbeat against her back, his breath hitting the back of her neck.

She wanted to bolt. To jump out of his lap and run into the wild, eager to escape the embarrassment of having a panic attack in front of the brothers. The cool, collected Dixon's brothers.

She tried. Tried to remove her nails from Merle's arms — they had to be hurting him, but her body had yet to respond to her call.

Why must Beth continue to prove herself to be an inept, pathetic kid?

"I...," She tried, not even recognizing the voice coming from her mouth. "I'm sorry... I'm trying to-"

"It's fine," Merle interrupted. "I can barely fell it, anyway. Take your time."

That couldn't be true, Beth knew. She could fell the terseness of the abused muscles...

She was tired, exhausted. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and suddenly all the emotions of the day had caught up with her, making her body sag in response. Her eyelids began to drop against her will, and her body moved to lean back against Merle's chest. She knew he was probably about to kick her out of his lap, probably already fed up with her proximity, but she couldn't find the strength to move away. The darkness of sleep enveloped her without warning, taking the decision out of her hands.

AN2: I have to say, I'm so excited for the chapters to come!