When they were outside in the open it was safer to burn a fire during the day when the flickering light of it wouldn't attract as much notice. On the days they had found shelter, Daryl preferred to light the fire at night; when the coverings over the windows would hide the light and the smoke going up the chimney would be nearly invisible against the dark sky. Walkers couldn't spot smoke, as far as he knew anyway, they weren't drawn to it like they were to the bright flicker of flame. But people could, and it was people that Daryl was worried about.

It was people- bad people- that lingered on his mind as he looked down at the girl tucked up beside him. She had talked for a little while longer last night but eventually her exhaustion seemed to have caught up to her. He was almost surprised it had taken so long; she had stayed up all night for him on watch and then followed him through the woods with a twisted ankle and a broken wrist and hadn't once protested. But then maybe it wasn't so surprising. Beth had kept up with him every day since the prison, he had long since learned that she was stronger than most people expected.

He wasn't worried about her being unable to keep up, even injured as she was. What he was worried about was that other people might catch up to them, somehow. People like those men in that cop car, hitting and kidnapping a young girl to bring them back to some unknown location for… well. He might not know where, but he had a pretty good idea about what men like that might do to a girl like her. He knew the ways in which they'd want to hurt her, use her, damage her, break her.

The fire was glowing on her skin as he watched her and the thought entered his mind that she looked almost like an angel right now. Her pale blonde hair seemed gold in the flickering firelight and her skin was like cream or maybe porcelain, flushed faintly pink from the warmth. But his gaze fell on the bruise that purpled her cheek and the healing wound left behind from the car that had struck her, and he felt a stirring of anger and guilt in his stomach. If she was an angel, then she was one that had been marked.

Daryl had never been one for church. No one in the Dixon family was. But he'd had a neighbor when he was younger, an old lady with a collection of crosses on her wall and a stack of bibles on every table, or so it seemed. He'd never have gone over there except she always had cookies or a sandwich to spare and the insistent demands of his empty stomach overcame his dislike of her religious tendencies. When he was hungry, he could put up with all that talk of sin and damnation; he reckoned anyone could. She liked to tell stories sometimes, especially about angels. It had been from her that he'd heard once about how sometimes angels could fall from heaven, banished for their sins.

Rationally he knew that didn't apply to Beth. She was the furthest thing from a sinner, he knew. But men like the ones he'd killed to save her, they were sinners through and through. Sinners who had marked her, sinners who had tried to drag down an angel and tear away her wings only to be stopped at the last minute. By him. Daryl didn't know what that made him, because he was pretty sure he was closer to a sinner than an angel himself. Hell, he didn't even know why his thoughts were so stuck on things he didn't believe in; except he was exhausted and the golden light shining across her soft face was filling his head with all sorts of strange thoughts.

He wasn't much for metaphors and romantic notions, let along for things like heaven and hell and sinners and angels. But he did know one thing. He knew he'd do anything to help her keep that goodness, that hope. He'd do anything to stop men like that from hurting her any further, or this world from trying to tear off her wings. He was worthy of that, he knew he was, even if he still didn't quite believe that he could be worthy of closeness with her.

Beth didn't seem to believe the same when it came to their closeness. She had fallen asleep right beside him and as he watched, her head drifted so that her cheek rested warmly on his shoulder. He couldn't seem to help drinking in the sight of her all glowing in the firelight, so peaceful in sleep now. He would keep her safe. He would.

Maybe his gaze on her was too heavy or maybe Beth was perceptive even in her sleep, because after a moment he felt her shift and her eyes fluttered open to look up at him. He had a few seconds to be mesmerized by the still-peaceful expression in her sleepy eyes before she murmured, "S'my turn to watch?"

Daryl shook his head. "No. Your turn to sleep still, Beth. Go back t' sleep, s'ok."

"Okay…" But her eyes didn't close. They stayed settled on him, studying even through her sleepy haze for a long moment, and when she finally blinked Daryl felt her shift a little closer to him. What he did next was all instinct. At the press of her body closer to his, Daryl lifted his arm and gently settled it over her shoulder. As soon as the weight of his arm was resting across her delicate shoulders he felt like some kind of idiot and he instantly and instinctively braced for the negative response. He braced for Beth looking up at him all bewildered and confused, maybe even annoyed. He braced for her to recoil like what he'd done disgusted her, because in that moment he thought only of his own self-doubts and somehow forgot the sight of her above him last night, holding his head so gently in her lap while she slept.

But she didn't pull away. If anything he was pretty sure he saw a faint hint of a smile on her lips as she tucked herself closer, rested her head against his chest, and hesitantly let her arm follow. As her hand came to settle gently on his chest, Daryl felt himself exhale in a slow sigh that was matched by Beth's own. "Don't forget to wake me up," she murmured as her eyes fluttered shut. "I… mean it. You need sleep… too."

"I won't," he murmured back. His fingers lightly splayed against her shoulder, and if his thumb brushed back and forth once or twice, well, it was just settling, right? Either way, he meant it. He'd wake her up.

Although he might let her get an extra hour or two, before he did. She deserved it, after all.

...

If Beth noticed that he'd let her sleep an hour longer than normal, she didn't say anything when he'd woken her up. She'd shifted out from under his arm, and despite his worry that she'd pull away now, she'd just patted her own shoulder and given him a gentle smile as she'd said, "Your turn."

And that was how he'd slept; with his head on Beth Greene's shoulder and the warmth of her body a reminder even in sleep that she was alive. When he woke up three hours later the sun was just coming up over the horizon; or in their case, just beginning to peek through the trees. Right on time, really. He almost always woke with the dawn, if he had the first shift of watch. The sun was the first thing he noticed as his eyes fluttered open and he stretched lightly. The second thing he noticed was that Beth wasn't right beside him anymore, though she couldn't have been gone for long because his side was still warm from where she'd be nestled up against him.

Daryl had just enough time to sit up sharply and reach for his bow, just enough time for a hint of worry to go through him lightning-fast, and then she stepped around from the back of the couch and gave him a smile. "Hey, you're awake. Good morning." Her sharp eyes flicked to the crossbow held tightly in his hands, and after a moment she added carefully, "I went to get the fork, from my bag. I knew you wouldn't want the fire going once the sun came up, so I cooked the can of beans and then-" She crossed around and knelt to the fire, gesturing, "I brought it down to the coals, to keep it warm, see?"

He was grateful that she hadn't mentioned his obvious instinctive worry. Beth was good like that though, she always seemed to know the right thing to say. His body relaxed back as his gaze finally drifted to the fire, where he saw the evidence that she had done just what she said. The fire was banked, just a dull red simmer in the coals that made little smoke but kept the can she'd placed near it warm. Of course they'd had plenty a cold meal and neither of them would have minded another, but it was always nice to have something warm for once.

Daryl grunted in acknowledgement but then, feeling a hint of guilt at his short response he added, "Did good. Smart. Gonna bring that can over here so we can share?"

Soon he had her warmth back at his side as she settled against him without hesitation, cupping the warm can carefully in her hands. He made sure she got the first forkful but after that they shared, passing the utensil back and forth without much mind as they worked through their meal. "So do you think…" Beth worried her lip for a moment, dimpling it with the straight line of her teeth in a way that was mildly distracting to him before she went on, "Do you think we could stay here for a little bit? Just a few days anyway?"

The fork in his mouth was Daryl's excuse to take a few moments to think over the question, although the truth was he knew the answer. Still, he took the time. His gaze moved over the run-down cabin from the closed off door to the fallen-in bedroom to the meager supplies, the dust, the now-covered window where the walker had broken through. He compared it in his mind to that funeral home: clean as if waiting for someone, filled with cabinets full of neatly arranged food. That place had been the kind of place most people would look at and think was safe. It had been the kind of place he should have looked at and known wasn't.

But he had been caught up in her laughter and the light in her eyes and that damn one-eyed dog and he'd slipped. He wouldn't slip again, at least not when it came to keeping her safe.

(A part of him wanted to think he could have both. The distraction of the light in her eyes and the focus on keeping her safe, too, but if it came down to it he knew which he would choose. He'd choose one that would keep her with him, in a heartbeat.)

As he offered the can and the spoon back to her, Daryl replied lowly, "We can stay. For a few days, anyway. Give your ankle time t' heal a bit." His brow furrowed as he looked around again and added, "This place is alright. It ain't a trap, that's for sure."

"You really think the last place was?" She blinked up at him, worry in her eyes.

Daryl shrugged because of course he couldn't be sure. "Maybe." He paused, and then added, "My gut says yeah."

"It's too bad," Beth murmured softly, scooping up a spoonful of beans but pausing to add, "I think it could've been good, if it hadn't been a trap." She sighed. "You know what I wish, though?"

He could think of a hundred things, of course. He wished she'd never been caught at all. He wished the place had been good, or that he'd figured out it was wrong before they had a chance to hurt her. He wished there weren't men like that in this world, drawn to girls like her.

But he wasn't Beth, of course.

"I wish we'd managed to find that dog again, before we got taken away." She looked up at him and shrugged one shoulder. "I just bet it's hungry, that's all. Hungry and lonely. No one should have to feel like that."

No, he wasn't Beth. But she was so very her, and though it constantly amazed and amused him, he'd never want to change it.

...

Of course just because they were staying didn't mean they could spend the day doing nothing at all. Once they had finished breakfast they were up and on their feet; including Beth, who insisted on having something to do even though all he wanted was for her to rest her ankle.

"Ain't the whole point of stayin' here t' give that time t' heal?" He asked, raising an eyebrow and looking pointedly down at where she was gingerly standing on only one leg.

"Yes. But that doesn't make me useless!" With her hands on her hips and that stubborn jut to her chin, Daryl knew he's just get a glare from her if he tried to protest. Still she must have seen something in the duck of his head maybe, or the brush of his hand over his hair as he scuffed his foot against the ground, because after a moment she took a careful step towards him and said in a softer voice, "Daryl, I'm not glass, okay? I don't want you treating me like I might break."

When he tilted his head to look up at her from under the dark fringe of his hair, he was surprised to see a plaintiveness in her eyes as she went on, "Everyone's always treated me like glass, you know? Especially since the farm, after Mama…" She trailed off but he'd known what she meant even before she started rubbing her fingers beneath the bracelets she wore on one wrist. "But not you. You never treated me like that, and I don't want you to start now. I'm not just some bruised girl, you know?"

He blinked at her, and instead of her soft tone he heard angry words lashing through his mind like a whip: I know you look at me and you just see another dead girl. I'm not Michonne. I'm not Carol. I'm not Maggie. I've survived and you don't get it 'cause I'm not like you or them. But I made it and you don't get to treat me like crap just because you're afraid.

That day and that evening, after the anger had burned out of him like the fumes of the liquor he'd consumed too much of, Daryl had promised himself that he wouldn't keep treating her like that; like she was already dead, like she hadn't proved again and again that she could survive. And he hadn't, not until he'd gotten that stark reminder of just how close to death they all were, including her. He had been promising himself again and again in the last two days that he wouldn't let her get hurt, get broken, get taken away from him and now he added to that promise again. He wouldn't let her get hurt by him, either. He wouldn't let her feel like she was just some bruised and fragile almost-dead girl.

Of course it wasn't really in him to apologize or say sorry, at least not with words. The best he could manage was a low hum and a scrub of his hand over the back of his neck before he offered, "Need more cans and string t' hang up around here. An' then maybe we can set up some traps for rabbits."

Her only reply out loud anyway was a soft and simple, "Okay."

It was his way of saying 'sorry', and her way of saying 'thank you' and they both knew it. He could see it in her simple smile and the way the tension and worry eased from her face as she came closer to him and reached for the empty can that was leftover from their breakfast. "I think I saw some fishing line, in one of the drawers. I'll rig up some more cans and then help you with the rabbit snares." A little smile tugged at her lips as she added, "You might have to remind me how to set them, though."

He shrugged. "Reckon you'll remember," Daryl drawled as he leaned down and picked up his crossbow so he could head out and do a walk around their temporary refuge. "Y' got a good memory for things like that." Just as his previous words had been an apology, this was a compliment and one Beth seemed to take easily. A part of him thought that he could get used to this complimenting thing, if it was gonna earn him smiles like that from her.

That was a silly notion too, one he shrugged off as he headed towards the door and opened it, leaving her safely behind him. But while he made his rounds of the cabin, checking for signs of walkers that might have gotten close in the night, some part of his thoughts remained inside with Beth and that soft, sweet little smile.

...

It didn't take him long to check the perimeter, and then to hang up the new string of cans Beth had made across the steps that lead to the porch. With the help of his arm around her back, he got her out and into the woods that surrounded the little cabin. It was a spot he had chosen for rather particular reasons, but instead of telling her that Daryl nodded to the ground instead and asked, "Why here, y'think?"

It took her a second to catch on, a second of her blinking those big damn eyes up at him until her lips parted in a surprised, "Oh, right!" He bit back a soft chuckle as she looked down at the ground and began to study it. Despite the fact that he had been training her for a couple weeks now, it was still fascinating to him to see how her expression changed. She always looked so focused, so purposeful when she set her attention to tracking. Sure she smiled plenty and even joked, but he knew that despite that she was genuinely trying.

He appreciated it, probably more than she knew. Hunting and tracking was something incredibly serious to him, one of the few things in his life he'd not only enjoyed but known he was good at. He'd never in his life taught anyone else to do it, until Beth. Though he'd never have agreed to teach her if he didn't think she had it in her, he couldn't help thinking that she'd proven to be the best choice he could ever have made for his first and only student.

She proved that all over again now as she surveyed the ground for a long moment before replying brightly, "Rabbit tracks! Right?" At his slow 'go on' nod, Beth pointed to a few tracks on the ground, leading towards the roots of a large tree. "And there's a hole there, at the roots of the tree, maybe that's an, ummm…." She trailed off, and the way her nose wrinkled up in thought almost had a smile on his lips. He ducked his head to hide it, but it was faintly there as she went on, "Oh I forgot the word, I'm sorry!"

"Warren," he remarked with another nod. "S'alright. You did real good, seeing the tracks an' where they led. Now let's see if y' remember how to set up a rabbit snare."

It turned out she could, at least with some help, which Daryl didn't at all mind providing even if it was a bit distracting. Each time her hands brushed his as he showed her how to properly loop the line they were using for the snare, he felt this odd warm sensation going through him. It had to be just him, of course. But then he'd look up at her and see this hint of a flush on her cheeks… and for a second he would wonder, before of course he shoved the thoughts away without even allowing them to further form.

Still, he was pretty sure it had never been like this before. He tried to think back to when he'd showed her this the first time, tried to remember if he had been so damn aware of how soft her skin was when their hands touched. (He was pretty sure he hadn't, but he couldn't help wondering howwas her skin always so damn soft? He couldn't even remember the last time they'd bathed in something that wasn't a stream or a river… not, of course, that he needed to think about either of them bathing.)

Despite his attempts to keep his thoughts to himself, his focus on what he was feeling (and why) had his brow furrowing faintly as they worked. His hands never faltered, but his distraction must have been clear somehow.

"Hey," Beth murmured, nudging his arm with hers as they finished tying off the trap. "Remember that time we made a rabbit snare in the woods, trying to catch us something for dinner?"

Just like that his pensive mood was broken and a hint of a smile tugged briefly at the corners of his lips. "You tryin' that tellin' a story while it's happenin' thing, again?"

"Well," Beth's hand slid past his again as she followed his guidance and tightened the knot on the snare. Her voice was prim but there was a smile hovering around her lips as she teased back, "It's gonna make a pretty good story, I can already tell."

Despite the shake of his head and the little snort he gave, the truth was Daryl kinda agreed. The truth was he liked the reminder; that he might not have a childhood full of stories the way she did, but he had weeks of them with her now.

So when she quietly and carefully asked, "You don't mind me talking like that, do you?"

He said easily, "Nah. Maybe you're right. Besides… don't mind your stories, past or present." And of course, since that was edging pretty close to nice for his comfort, he added after a moment, "Even if y' do babble a lot sometimes."

"Hey!" This time she nudged him a little more firmly and he looked up to catch the sight of her laughing, mesmerized for a second by the light in her eyes and the flush of her cheeks- and then he saw movement, just past her. In an instant he was reaching out, one hand curling around her arm and the other raising a finger to his lips to ask her for silence which she thankfully gave instantly.

Once her wide-eyed gaze was on him he stretched his arm out and pointed to where a small brown rabbit had appeared from the warren, head raised and nose sniffing the air. Silently (another thing he was proud of) Beth gestured to the snare between them, but Daryl shook his head. Moving as slowly and carefully as he could, he slipped his crossbow off his back and into his hands, but only for a moment. Because without thinking, without hesitating, he found himself offering it up to her instead.

She'd used it before, of course. Tracking through the woods, firing at a few practice targets and once or twice a walker, but never like this. Never when it came down to something as important as food.

The thing was, he didn't have a single doubt that she could do it. He knew she could and that confidence was in his eyes as he slowly handed her his bow. Maybe that was why she only seemed to question him for a moment all wide, doubtful eyes before a hint of pride entered her gaze and she reached out to take the bow from him.

"Nice and quiet," Daryl whispered, barely audible except to Beth who was just inches away from him. He edged even closer as she lifted the crossbow slowly into her arms and settled it there, crooking her arm to rest most of the weight on her uninjured arm before peering down it at the rabbit. "Find your shot," he murmured right by her ear, instinctively letting one hand come to rest on her back. "Breathe in and out, good an' steady… then take the shot on the exhale, when you feel it…"

He could hear her drawing in and exhaling slowly, just as he could feel her back rising and falling beneath his hand. He was so focused on the rise and fall of her breath that he barely realized he was breathing to the same rhythm, that they were both focusing on the rabbit, both thinking almost at the same time: not yet… not yet… not yet…. now.

His fingers twitched right when she fired, as if he were releasing the bolt too and his breath caught in anticipation as it cut through the air right for it's target. Both of them inhaled sharply, both of them hesitated- and then exhaled in a rush as the bolt slammed right home in the rabbit's side, right at the heart-lung spot.

Daryl turned when she did, looking right at her, their eyes meeting in excitement and what suddenly felt like a rush of something entirely new and unexpected; heat and electricity, firing between them as their gazes held.

"I did it!" Her voice was all breathy as if with anticipation or as if maybe, just maybe, she was feeling the same unexpected rush that he had.

"Yeah you did." It was all he could say, just like all he could do was stare at her, looking right into those blue eyes, searching them as if he might find an explanation in them for why he was feeling like this. After a moment, Daryl realized he still had his hand resting on her back and that he could feel it rising and falling with her shorter, sharper breaths just as he could feel the warmth of her beneath his palm.

Anticipation weighted the air, but for what? What was he anticipating? Why did he feel something like he had that other night looking into her eyes, hearing her ask him to explain what it was that had changed his mind and made him believe there would good people in the world? There had been a moment there, too, a few seconds of anticipation, a wonderance of 'what next' before the moment had been broken by the clattering of cans.

The moment wasn't being broken by anything right now. Beth was leaning in towards him, and he realized suddenly that he was leaning in towards her, too. Like she were pulling him in with her own gravity some how; it wouldn't surprise him, how long now had he felt like she was the sun and he was in orbit, wanting to soak up those rays but too full of self-doubt and loathing to do so?

Slowly his eyes dropped, fixing on her lips as they parted gently, hearing her exhale in that soft and breathy voice, "Daryl..."

His name had no damn right, sounding so good.

He had no damn right, thinking she looked so good right now, leaning towards him like she wanted him to…what?

And then it hit him. Shit. Like she wanted him to kiss her.

The thought flashed through his mind in a jolt, just as quickly as the one on it's heels which was rapidly shoved away before he could allow himself to even consider it.

(I want to kiss her, too.)

He couldn't do that so instead he panicked. He had a feeling he'd regret it later, but in the moment there seemed to be no other option. (There was. But it wasn't a real option because he couldn't, no matter how badly he wanted it, there was no way she wanted it too, even if she was leaning into him like that and looking so soft and sweet, even if Merle's voice was echoing in his mind: Go for it, baby brother, she wants it, she's aching for it.)

Maybe it was Merle's voice that caused him to panic or maybe it was his own, full of self-doubt. Either way, he reacted. He pulled back almost sharply, with only a quick squeeze of her shoulder and a rough, "Y' did good, kid."

(Kid? Aw hell, Darylina, whatchu go and do that for? We both know damn well you ain't seein' her as nothin' like a kid right now.)

Biting back the urge to growl at a brother who wasn't even there except in his head, Daryl rose sharply to his feet. "C'mon. Let's bring this back before somethin' smells the blood."

He didn't look at her, just kept his focus on the rabbit at his feet as he pulled the bolt from it's side. So of course he didn't see the look of disappointment in her eyes as she caught herself and rose slowly to her feet.

Maybe it was better that way.

But if it was, then why did he feel so… bereft? Why did he feel like something was suddenly wrong?

**A/N: Sorry again for the delay, I'm trying my best to keep all these updated. I hope you enjoy this and that it isn't too weird! It's very introspective. The next chapter will be more on-the-move again.