Disclaimer: A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

A/N: Thank you Nicole137137 for sending me edits for this chapter even though you were still exhausted from your camping trip!

She reads the comments so if you guys want to wish her a happy birthday (it's technically June 4th) I'd be super grateful! Without her to bounce ideas off of and help when my southern twang comes through in my writing, I'd be a mess! HAPPY BIRTHDAY NICOLE!

ALSO: This chapter contains graphic scenes of violence. I have a disclaimer in the story info, but this chapter has some especially graphic scenes.

…

Beth's heart was racing as she ran down the dark ally. She was in between Michonne and Daryl and the three of them were moving through the deserted back streets of Terminus. Abraham had stayed behind the fence, providing cover, and in pairs they made their way back to the boxcar that had held them captive. Once there, Abraham joined them and they had snuck around the rail car, pressing themselves against the nearest building for cover.
With everyone in position, Michonne, Daryl, and herself had split off in search of the armory.

A nervous energy filled Beth. She felt secure with Michonne leading them and knowing Daryl had her back, but she worried that Michonne would notice something one step too late and reveal them to the guard on patrol or that someone would sneak up on Daryl while they focused on making sure they didn't run into anyone ahead of them. Being in the middle, she was the only who could split her attention and focus on both directions. Her head was on a swivel; her eyes watching in front but her ears attentive to everything behind them.

Michonne's arm shot up, fist clenched, signaling them to stop. Michonne slowly stepped backwards, forcing Beth to do the same. She risked a glance back to check on Daryl. He too was taking cautious steps in the direction they had come from. Their eyes met for a brief moment and Beth wasn't comforted by the look on Daryl's face. He was just as much on edge as she was.

A crunching noise sounded in front of them; a rhythmic pattern that Beth identified as a person walking. Her grip on her wooden stake tightened. They were virtually unarmed. It was just one person, as far as Beth could tell, but if he managed to yell, to alert guards nearby, it was all over.

Michonne signaled to Beth. Nodding, Beth took the lead as Michonne stepped to the other side of the alley. The man would now see Beth first, but Michonne would be able to sneak closer to the end of the building before she would become visible.

Beth felt Daryl move closer behind her. She could feel the heat radiating from his body surrounding her due to their proximity, but he had yet to physically touch her. It didn't ease Beth as it normally would. If anything, it made her more anxious. She knew that at the first sign of trouble, Daryl would throw himself into the fray to protect her and Michonne. For caring so much about other's lives, he placed little value in his own. However, Beth had just as much of a protective streak in her as Daryl and she'd die trying to keep him safe without a second thought.

The shuffling of feet was deafening and Beth could see a beam of light coming from within the walkway. Beth glanced at Michonne who visibly stiffened upon noticing the flashlight. Slinking around in the dark was one thing, but armed guards with a means of being able to spot them in the cover of darkness was not something they had anticipated.

Beth looked to Daryl and jerked her head toward the opposite wall behind Michonne. Daryl nodded, agreeing that they couldn't stay in place, and they both carefully made their way to Michonne. Each step Beth took made her wince. She hadn't mastered the art of stealth quite like Michonne and Daryl and every time her foot came in contact with the ground, she felt she may as well have been shouting her location for the approaching individual.

When course, hardened clay that constructed the brick building scraped her bare arms, she felt a small bit of relief. They waited in silence. A light blinded Beth's eyes for a brief moment before she heard a struggle. Michonne had used her stake as a sort of gag, forcing it between the man's teeth so he couldn't make coherent words, but he was still making noise and clawing at her arms in an attempt to get free. Beth reacted on instinct. The moment the dots in her vision subsided, she balled her hand in a fist and struck the man in the throat. His attempts to yell for help were replaced by gasping and his hands held his neck protectively.

Daryl wasted no time in grabbing the man's forgotten weapon up off the ground and using it to give him a solid blow to the head. The man slumped in Michonne's arms and she slowly lowered him to the ground, careful not to make any more commotion than necessary.
Michonne then propped the man against the wall and began checking his pockets. Beth squatted down and began helping her look. Rifling through the man's pocket made Beth feel uncomfortable. She kept her eyes on his face, expecting him to wake up and attack her. Her heart raced, thrumming through her chest and echoing in her ears. The jingling of keys startled her and signaled the end of their search.

"Think they'll open the armory?" Beth asked Michonne who investigated the keys in her hand.

"Only one way to find out," Michonne answered.

"We're close," Daryl added, "Should be 'round the next building."

"If our intel is valid," Michonne agreed.

Beth stood and walked to the alleyway the man had come down. Leaning around the corner, careful to make sure no one else was around; she took a step into the opening and crouched down to pick up the abandoned flashlight. Standing, she clicked the light a few times to make sure the drop hadn't ruined the device.

"Let's go," Michonne took the lead once more.
Beth followed closely behind and Daryl, still holding the gun, fell into step behind her. Michonne peered around the edge of the building and signaled that it was clear. They quietly crept around the building, the moonlight illuminating their path, and found the warehouse door that their captive had indicated was the armory.

"Blue door, busted window, fifth building toward the back," Daryl listed off, "and it's locked up. This is it."

Beth examined the door curiously. A thick padlock rested on the latch screwed onto the door. Michonne and Daryl had explained that their main obstacle going in wouldn't be finding the armory, but getting into the armory once it was located. Their hostage had informed them that the armory wasn't generally guarded, as there was no need when the community was so close-knit and anyone new to the society was locked up in a boxcar. They did keep it locked up for precautionary reasons. They had a decent stock of guns and ammunition that they had procured from their prisoners and they didn't want to be robbed blind of their investments by someone lucky enough to sneak in and out without being seen.

Michonne began trying the keys. One by one, each key was eliminated as the correct key to open the padlock. When the last key failed, Michonne threw the keys down on the ground and glared at the door.

"What now?" Daryl grumbled glancing between Michonne and the door.

"I'm thinking," Michonne answered tersely.

Beth glanced around the area, taking stock of what their options were. There was another door around the other side of the building, but going further into Terminus meant more rooftops with better vantage points that they could be seen from and more guards that they could run into. Where they stood now, they had Terminus in front of them and a few sheds behind them. For the most part, the area was open, far too open to have the entire group lay in wait, but there weren't buildings tall enough to constitute placing a sniper on watch.

The moon reflected off the broken glass still held in the tattered window frame. Beth walked over to the window, examining the height of the brick opening that held the wooden frame. She could barely touch the lip of the window seal. If someone were to boost her up, she would be able bust out the remaining glass in one of the panes and climb through.

"Daryl," Beth said his name softly, never removing her eyes from the window.

"Yeah?" Daryl's voice traveled toward her from where he stood next to Michonne.

Beth glanced at him and pointed up to the window. Daryl followed her direction and furrowed his brows.

"Hell no," Daryl said automatically.

"What is it?" Michonne inquired.

"I'm small enough that I can climb through," Beth pointed back up to the window, "I just need a boost."

"No fuckin' way," Daryl refused more forcefully.

"Maybe there's somethin' inside I can toss back out to you so you can pry the latch off the door? We don't have the right key and we're not getting that lock off without the key. What other choice do we have?" Beth argued.

"We don't," Michonne answered seriously, "but there's a chance that there won't be anything in there we can use."

"Then I'll figure out a way to get the weapons out of the window," Beth replied.

"You're goin' in there blind," Daryl tightened his jaw.

"I can do this," Beth met his gaze calmly.

"I don't like it," Michonne crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm doing this," Beth restated herself sternly.

Michonne and Daryl exchanged a look. They all knew they didn't have any other options. Not everyone waiting for them had a weapon, they themselves didn't have weapons, and the only way they were freeing the people trapped here was by getting into that armory.

Beth was glaring at Daryl. Michonne had expressed her concern, however Daryl had flat out told her no. She was already annoyed that they couldn't get the door open, but Daryl refusing to trust her abilities really ticked her off. She understood his concern, she wasn't thrilled with the idea herself, but they didn't have time to sit around and debate.

"If she says she can do it, who am I to argue?" Michonne sighed, shrugging her shoulders.

Daryl met Beth's glare with a grimace of his own. Begrudgingly he approached her, where she stood under the window seal, and placed both his hands on his hips. His eyes now downcast, he worked on his bottom lip, and remained silent.

"Daryl," Beth huffed, "I'm just goin' through the window. It's not like it'd be any less dangerous than goin' through the door. Whatever's inside is gonna' be inside no matter which way we go in."

Daryl breathed in through his nostrils. She could imagine the face he was making, she'd seen it several times; brows furrows, eyes squinting, lips pressed into a thin line, and nostrils flared while he worked to organize his thoughts.

"It'll be fine," she bent down to try and look at his face, "and you know that one of us sneaking in is a lot less inconspicuous than three, regardless of how quiet we all can be."

His eyes stared at her through his fringe. The crystal blue of his irises shone in the moonlight. The intensity was enough to steal her breath away and she gulped involuntarily.
Daryl lifted his head to stare down his nose at her.

"You get in. You stay hidden. Find somethin' to get that damned door open and ya' get it t'me asap," his voice came out deep, gruff.

Beth nodded and shoved her stake into her back pocket. She placed her hands on his shoulders, bracing herself to step into his hands; however he made no move to help her up. Beth furrowed her brows. She peeked around his shoulder and noticed Michonne was keeping watch over the alley way they had come from.

She then cleared her throat and turned her attention back to Daryl, "Do you trust me?"

The question seemed to have caught him off-guard by the narrowing of his eyes, "What kinda' question is that? Ya' know I do."

"Then you know I can take care of myself," Beth tipped her head to the side and smirked.

Daryl sighed, bowing his head in defeat, and squatted down making a brace for Beth's foot by interlacing his fingers, "Just make sure you don't do nothin' until I get in there."

Beth smiled wide. She was relieved to know that even though he didn't want her going in alone, that he trusted her to be able to handle whatever waited inside. She had no intention of looking for trouble, but she had people depending on her. She would do whatever she had to in order to get Daryl and Michonne those weapons.

She leaned forward, pressing her forehead atop the mop of his brown locks. His shoulders went rigid, but he didn't move away. She took a deep breath, her senses filled with everything that was Daryl, and it gave her a sensation of clarity.

"I'll see you in a few," she whispered.

Daryl hummed; the depth of his voice distinctly more so in their proximity. Beth pulled away and caught the quick glance he gave her. He then shifted his weight to strengthen the cradle he had created with his hands and Beth placed her foot in his hold.

"On three," she said and he nodded, "One…two…three."

Then she was flying upward. She caught the lip of the window seal and began climbing inside. There were shards of glass still attached to the frame, pointing at her dangerously, and Beth winced when a piece caught her cheek as she clambered through the bottom right panel.

She pulled her wooden pike out of her back pocket and leapt down from the window as quietly as she could. She landed on her toes and hunched down. The warehouse was dark, only a few candles lit around the room. There were metal racks, similar to the ones she'd had in her utility closet, situated closer to the door opposite of the one Daryl and Michonne waited behind. The building looked like it had been some sort of repair shed. There were a few hydraulic lifts in front of her, some suspended in the air while others rested flat against the ground, and various tools were strewn about the building.

She had yet to move, listening for footsteps to echo in the dark, signaling that someone else was in the armory with her. When she hadn't heard anything after a few minutes of waiting, Beth tiptoed across the concrete floor to the shelves. Her eyes widened in shock at the amount of weapons stored in the building. The astonishment quickly subsided into nausea in the knowledge that there was an extremely high possibility that all, if not at least ninety percent, of the weapons were from people who were locked up in the boxcars…or worse.

The shelves were filled with knives, machetes, axes, loose bullets that belonged to the various guns that littered the shelves, and even a few homemade weapons. A crowbar caught her eye and she picked up the metal tool. It was crusted in a black film, most likely walker blood, but it looked sturdy enough to get the latch off of the door that kept Daryl and Michonne locked outside.

Beth froze when she heard a noise from the door she was now closest to and dropped to the floor. A jingling of keys, followed by a door slowly opening, echoed through the warehouse. Then the footsteps of someone coming into the warehouse filled the silence and the door shut. She could see a pair of legs from in between one of the shelves and thanked anyone who was listening that only one person had entered.

Then panic set in.

She had nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. If they saw her, she'd have to make sure they weren't able to tell anyone and ruin their chances of taking Terminus by surprise. She then recognized that she still had the upper hand against whoever had entered. They weren't expecting anyone to be inside the armory and she hadn't been seen. Pushing up on her hands and knees, she carefully lifted herself into a crouched position. She was thankful she had discarded her wooden weapon in favor of the crowbar she held tightly in her hands.

She took slow, even steps toward the Terminus resident that was impeding on her plans. She could make out the silhouette of a man, a very large man, with a gun strapped around his back. He was leaning over a desk, a candle lighting half of his body, inspecting a piece of paper. She was only a few feet away when the man stood to his full height and turned away from the desk.

Beth froze.

He was rifling through one of the shelves beside the desk, still unaware of her presence. She heard him curse under his breath and then he turned toward her. She was caught. She had to act or everything would be ruined.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" The Terminus dweller asked her crudely; removing his weapon.

Beth didn't answer. Instead she leapt forward and swung the crowbar at his head. He managed to block the brunt of the swing with his arm, dropping his gun in the process, but she had still done damage to his person. Not wanting to give him the chance to pick up his weapon, she swung again. This time she made contact with the side of his head and his body crumpled to the ground. Her chest was heaving as she tried to catch her breath; adrenaline surging through her veins. She approached him cautiously, unsure whether her blow had indeed knocked the man out or if he was feigning unconsciousness. She nudged him with her foot twice and when he didn't move she bent down to search for the keys that had granted him access inside the armory.

The pockets on her side were empty. She took a deep breath and scanned the stranger before reaching across his body to search his other pocket. As soon as her fingers grasped the keys, she was knocked back. The room spun for a few seconds before she was able to make it stop and register what had just happened.

The man, who was definitely not unconscious, was hovering over her on all fours. She tried crawling back, but he managed to grab her ankle and yank her underneath him.

"I'm going to enjoy peeling the meat from your bones," he hissed, "after I release some of my frustration."

Beth's eyes frantically searched for the crowbar, however, she didn't have time to locate it before the man was pressing down on top of her. Beth felt the air vanish from her lungs. She felt invading hands skimming her sides, making their way under her shirt. The moment his hands made contact with the skin of her stomach, Beth found her voice.

"Get OFF of me you son of'ah bitch!" Beth hollered.

Her pleas were ignored and Beth discerned that only one of them would be walking away from this alive. She frantically searched for anything she could use as a weapon. His hands were getting dangerously close to her bra and Beth's instincts kicked into overdrive. She was not going to lose her virginity on the floor of a warehouse to some stranger and she'd be damned if this man made her a liar to Daryl.

She grabbed a handful of his hair and ripped his head away from her neck. Not hesitating she dug both of her thumbs into his eye sockets, fully intent on gouging his eyes out of his head. The painful noise that came from the man's throat encouraged her. She tried to get her legs situated to kick him in the groin, but he was bigger and much stronger than her. He swung wildly, knocking one of her arms away from his eyes and into the metal shelf beside them. She hissed at the immediate pain she felt from coming in contact with the ledge, but it was forgotten as soon as she saw the shiny object that had fallen from jarring the rack.

"You bitch," her attacker yelled from where he straddled her hips, "I'm going to rip you limb from fucking limb!"

Beth didn't give him the chance to say anything more. She grabbed the knife that had fallen to the ground and forced herself up on one elbow. She then ripped one of her legs free and kicked the brute squarely in the chest. He fell backwards, blinking his bloodied eyes at her. She tried to get up and run for the door he had entered through, but he grabbed the back of her shirt, pulling her back to the ground.

"No! Let me go!" Beth hissed, swinging her fists at the man with all the strength her limbs allowed.

Blood dripped on her face. She knew she had distorted his vision, but she wasn't sure by how much, and it was clear that no matter what she did he was not going to let her go. A hand gripped her throat, followed by a second, and it became hard to breath. She had to do something drastic or she would be reuniting with her father sooner than later.

The world moved in slow motion.

She could hear banging on the locked door that separated her from Daryl and Michonne. She knew if they had heard their skirmish then there was a chance that someone else had as well. Using the knife she had been desperately clutching she swung and sliced him across his cheek up into his ear. More blood descended upon her. She swung again, catching him across the forehead. His hands left her throat and went to his wounds. It was then that Beth saw her opening.

In one clean slice she slit his throat. There was a sickening gurgle as blood spewed from the wound. She kicked him off of her once more and struggled to get to her feet. He would be another person added to her list of lives she had taken. Granted it was a short list, but the fact that she had a list period made her heart constrict in her chest. She caught her breath and struggled to drag the still warm body under one of the hydraulic lifts that's base was elevated in the air.

Shawn had worked as a mechanic during the summers of his high school years. She had idolized her brother when she was younger and would listen with vast interest to all he would share about 'how things worked.' Thus, she was vaguely familiar with the mechanics of hydraulic lifts. She knew that if the base was up in the air, then that meant there was pressure in the hydraulic hose.

Shuffling over to the black tube that hung from the lift, she nicked the hose with her bloodied knife. The lift creaked and as the hydraulic fluid trickled in a steady stream from the line, the base began lowering to the ground.

She couldn't let him become a walker. He may have been a horrible person, an opinion she had formed for their brief encounter, but she couldn't do that to someone. Nor could she find the courage to stab him through the eye socket and pierce his brain. Mangling his face with an axe or other weapon wasn't an option she was willing to perform either.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, dropping the knife and letting it clatter on the concrete floor.

The base continued its descent and Beth refused to watch any longer. She walked over to where the keys she had been searching for lay discarded on the ground. Bending down to pick them up, she heard a revolting crunch from the hydraulic life behind her.

The man would no longer come back as a flesh eating abomination.

She was bone-weary, bloody, and was fighting to keep her bile in her stomach. Movement on the far wall caught her attention and another surge of adrenaline rushed her system. Narrowing her eyes she spotted Michonne crouched on the window seal with the gun Daryl had acquired in hand. She must have busted out some of the glass and climbed through during the fight because Beth didn't recall ever hearing any glass shatter.

"Don't jump," Beth croaked.

Her throat felt tender. She knew it would probably bruise, if it hadn't already, but she took pride in the fact that she was still alive for her throat to bruise. She hadn't kept her word to Daryl, for she wasn't fine, but she was alive and that would trump the former.

Beth forced her legs to take her closer to Michonne and she tossed the keys up to the woman in the window. Michonne didn't say anything, but Beth could feel her eyes examining her. She must have looked as terrible as she felt from the scowl on Michonne's face. She sighed, presuming that Daryl would flip when he saw her. She didn't even want to think about how Maggie was going to react.

She watched Michonne turn, toss the keys to the other side of the wall, and nod her head once. There was a chiming of keys and the door swung open with more force than necessary. Beth stood straight, refusing to look as weak as she felt, and waited for Daryl to cross the threshold.

He loomed in the doorway, eyes checking her from head to toe, and she could feel the rage enveloping his aura. They were at an impasse. He was making no moves toward her and she wasn't going to go to him.

Michonne jumped down from the window and approached Beth. The katana-wielding-woman placed both of her hands on Beth's shoulders tenderly, forcing Beth to shift her concentration away from Daryl.

"It was him or you," Michonne said quietly.

Beth exhaled loudly. She blinked back tears as the reality of what had just transpired consumed her. She had had to kill another human being so that she could live. She didn't value her life over anyone else's, but she had done just that in taking her attacker's life. Granted he had attempted to perform an immoral act against her and had made his intentions regarding her life very clear, but her deed was equally depraved when she took his life.

Beth nodded, not brave enough to voice her thoughts and knowing they didn't have the time to sort out her views on morality. Rick and the others were waiting on weapons so they could free the people being kept against their will. The lives in those rail cars far outweighed that of whatever was left of the man under the hydraulic lift.

Michonne patted her shoulders, and then moved to gather weapons. Taking a deep breath Beth shifted her gaze back to Daryl. He was still standing in the doorway, but his face betrayed his concern. Beth extended her hand, her bloody fingers trembling at the exertion, beckoning him closer. He turned and quietly closed the door behind him before advancing on her. He took her hand and she could feel his strength transferring into her.

"I'm sorry I couldn't keep my word," she spoke in hushed tones.

She tried to smile, but her facial muscles wouldn't cooperate. Instead she squeezed his hand, hoping it conveyed what she was feeling. He rummaged around behind him and pulled out his bandana. Reaching up, he gently began wiping her face. Beth closed her eyes, relishing in the feeling of safety he provided her despite their dangerous predicament.

"You gotta' cut," Daryl rubbed his thumb tenderly over her cheek.

Beth blinked her eyes open, "It's from tha' glass when I was climbin' through the window."

He accepted her answer without response. After a few more wipes he put the bandana back in his pocket and stared down at her. She met his eyes and realized she had been wrong in her thinking earlier. Her life might not have been any more important to herself than another person's, but she could name a few people who would argue with her in those regards.

"He hurt you?" Daryl narrowed his eyes.

She wasn't willing to divulge what had almost happened. She had stopped her assailant before things had progressed too far and she wasn't sure how he'd react to the details. Her shirt was ripped, her throat was sore, but she was otherwise unharmed. There was no reason to get into the specifics. They needed to have a clear head for when they stormed the roofs.

"He's dead. It doesn't matter," Beth replied, looking over her shoulder at the bloody mess of the mangled body.

She felt a soft pressure around her throat and she panicked. Her head whipped back to him, her eyes wild, and her breath hitched. His hand was barely touching her skin, but the sense of déjà vu that overwhelmed her was too powerful to ignore. She took several calming breaths, her eyes boring into his, and she attempted another faint smile. His fingers skimmed over her skin, as if he was trying to wipe away the bruising like he had with the blood, and Beth's heart began to race for a different reason.

The look on his face was something Beth couldn't decipher. Her eyes danced between the both of his, trying to make sense of everything her brain was processing, but it suddenly seemed like the world was falling away from underneath her feet.

Beth couldn't tell if they had been standing there for minutes, or even hours, but the moment was broken when Michonne spoke up, "I found your crossbows."

Beth's smile came of its own free will. Finally something good had worked out for them. Daryl dropped his hand from her neck and squeezed the hand he still held, and then they were both moving to Michonne. Beth could have hugged her inanimate weapon, ecstatic to be reunited with her crossbow, but instead opted for hugging Michonne. The woman chuckled and returned the embrace.

"I'm going to take these back to the group," Michonne announced; stepping back and hefting several semi-automatic rifles over her shoulder. She looked more like herself with her katana across her back.

Daryl examined his crossbow, checking the strings and its pull, before replying, "Alright. We're gonna' find that ladder. Start sortin' out things on the roof."

"Sounds good," Michonne moved to the door and paused, "When you two start…things are going to get bad quick."

Daryl scoffed, "You ain't whistlin' Dixie."

Michonne gave him a look that conveyed she wasn't amused by his sarcasm, "Just be careful."

"Yeah, yeah," Daryl replied while nocking his crossbow.

"We'll be careful," Beth added pulling an arrow from her attached quiver to follow suit, "You watch yourself too."

Michonne gave them one last look before disappearing out of the building and it was just the two of them. It felt like before they had been separated; her and Daryl against what was left of the world. This time though, she knew Maggie and Glenn were alive as well as everyone else, and the weight that had been around them before was missing.

"You gonna' be alright?" Daryl asked quietly.

Beth glanced at him. She was sure he wasn't asking if she was okay physically, but more 'okay' with what they were about to do. She wasn't okay with either, but there were things that needed to be done, "I'll be fine."

"Gotta' aim for the head. We can't afford walkers," Daryl's voice was stern.

"I know," Beth nodded, following him to the door across the building.

"You get in trouble, you keep yer' head down. I'll come find ya'," Daryl turned to her before opening the door.

"Daryl," Beth raised an eyebrow at him, "I'm not a damsel in distress."

"I know you ain't. Doesn't mean you won't get into ah' tight spot," Daryl countered.

"You watch my back, I watch yours," Beth stated, "that's how we've always done things."

Daryl looked at her for a long moment before nodding and turning to open the door. Beth waited, gripping her crossbow tightly, but the door remained closed. Just as Beth was about to ask what was wrong, Daryl turned to give her a view of his profile.

"You took care of that bastard so you don't have'tah apologize. If I had been in here…" His voice trailed off.

Beth studied his profile closely. His eyes were hidden by his hair so she focused on his mouth as he spoke. She hadn't noticed how full his lips were or that he had remarkably straight teeth. She'd never paid attention to the fact that even though he didn't have a full beard, his scruffy facial hair suited him, and that his facial structure as a whole was…handsome.

"I know," Beth snapped herself out of her thoughts.

"Just keep your word this time," Daryl's strikingly blue eyes became visible through his hair.

Beth was noticing all sorts of things about Daryl that she hadn't before.

"I will," Beth managed to reply.

His gaze lingered a moment longer and then he pushed the door open; jerking his head for her to go through. She adjusted her grip on her crossbow once more, feeling relief at being reunited with her long-lost friend, and lifted the weapon to her shoulder. As she walked past Daryl, her tattered shirt allowed his hand to graze her bare hip, and the brief encounter sent a wave of chills through her body.

Whether Daryl reacted the same way or not, she didn't trust herself to look, instead forcing herself to stay focused on being ready for someone to appear in front of them. They took a left, walking toward the rear of the building, and checked around the corner. Beth signaled it was clear, and she followed him around the building, passing two back streets, turning down the third. The ladder was right where their informant had said it would be.

"I'll go up first," Daryl whispered.

Beth grabbed his forearm as he was reaching up to begin climbing, making him stop and look at her.

"If you get into trouble, keep your head down. I'll come find ya'," Beth repeated what he had said to her a few moments ago.

Daryl stared at her and shook his head, chuckling softly, "You're somethin' else Greene."

Beth smiled, "I got your back."

The amusement on his face vanished and the air between them became somber, "An' I got yours."

"Don't die on me, okay?" Beth tried to make light of the statement.

"I can't make no promises, but I don't plan on goin' nowhere today," Daryl declared.

"Better not," Beth ordered.

Daryl opened his mouth to say something, closing it almost immediately, keeping the words locked behind his lips. He squinted his eyes and chewed on the inside of his lip. Beth had an idea of what he wanted to say. The direction of their conversation made for a rather easy educated guess.

"I don't plan on dying today either," Beth expressed confidently.

He smirked, exhaling through his nose, "Bes' not."

Then Daryl began climbing and Beth sent a silent message to her father while she followed behind him.

I'm gonna' have faith Daddy.