**A/N: Well I was supposed to work on another fic today but I woke up with this VERY LOUD in my head and just had to get it down. Enjoy the emotional rollercoaster and consider it a make-up for taking so long usually to update this fic!

Daryl had seriously fucked up. He was aware of that much, anyway. He might not have been smart enough to stop himself from fucking up, but he was sure smart enough to figure out when he'd already done it. He was also clever enough to pinpoint the exact moment he'd fucked up, even without the help of Merle; though the Merle in his head took particular pleasure in pointing it out, anyway.

"Y' did good, kid."

That was it, right there. The moment he'd 'screwed the pooch' as Merle had once liked to say. Kid. What the fuck had he been thinking?

The truth was he knew exactly what he'd been thinking, and it was that she'd looked nothing like a kid right then, leaning towards him with those soft pink lips parted and a flush to her cheeks. She'd looked like a woman, and one who wanted to kiss him, and the truth was he'd been, well…

Once, he'd shouted at her that he wasn't scared of nothin', and those words still rang in his mind despite knowing they weren't true. He was scared of things, sure enough. He was scared of losing the people he'd actually come to care for. He was scared of losing Beth. And that damn fear was all tied up in a fear of fucking things up with her, but the irony was that in the process of trying not to screw things up he'd gone and done it anyway.

The mood between them had been different ever since them. Quiet, was the best way to describe it. They'd been staying in the hunter's cabin for two days now, and it had just been… quiet. Or rather, Beth had been quiet, which was especially noticeable considering how rarely she got like that. It wasn't like she ignored him completely; he reckoned she was too nice for that and besides, it wasn't like he'd been a complete ass like that one time drunk on moonshine. She still slept next to him every night, but her head no longer fell to his shoulder and though a part of him ached for it, she never made that little movement that invited him to put his arm around her. She spoke when needed, but he couldn't help noticing the absence of her stories and the way she'd sometimes hum to herself as they worked.

He also didn't fail to notice that he missed things like that, which really only compounded the guilt he was feeling over putting this wedge or gulf or whatever it was between them.

It didn't do any good for his self doubts. Two days of calling himself an idiot and listening to Merle's voice in his head doing the same. Two days of trying to figure out how to bridge that gap, two days of wishing he just fucking knew how to make a damn apology. Two days of coming up with plans only to discard them as being as idiotic as his original remark had been.

On the third day, Beth suggested they leave the cabin. He'd woken up to her packing up their bag with purpose and determination, and it wasn't like he was gonna say no to her, even if a part of him wanted to stay right there where she was at least safe. Because even if that safety came with what felt like a slowly growing chasm between them, it was still safety. It was still a place where he could protect her, a place where she could let her ankle and wrist continue to heal.

But he wasn't gonna say no, so he followed. He let her lead the way because it was the least he could do and because frankly, he was still feeling like a goddamn idiot. Following after her slightly-limping frame as she kept ahead of him, only looking back occasionally and never saying much, Daryl called himself an idiot over and over again.

Although midway through the day when he focused a little less on her silence and a little more on their surroundings, he did feel the need to point out, "Headin' towards those railway tracks again."

She looked over her shoulder at him and shrugged her shoulder in a way that was so similar to his own gestures that he might have smiled, if it wasn't so unlike her to be curt in that way. Instead, he just grunted. If she wanted to head towards the tracks, then why not. They'd avoided them ever since those first days after the prison when they'd stumbled upon all those blood-stained bodies and he, like an idiot yet again, had just stood there watching that hopeful girl fall to pieces sobbing over not just the bodies of the children in front of her but, he figured, the idea that everyone they cared for might be just like this now.

Avoiding the train-tracks had been intentional on his part, a way of steering her from future pain… or maybe steering both of them. Because maybe a part of him had known that the tracks might lead them to their family, but not in the way they wanted. Because he didn't think either of them could bear rounding the corner and finding Michonne or Rick or Glenn or Beth's sister, torn up bloody and lying across the tracks.

But now Beth was heading right towards them and if it hadn't been intentional before (she was good at tracking, but she didn't have the same sense of direction as him yet) it was intentional now. She was striding purposefully in the direction she'd set and Daryl found himself wondering why it was she was suddenly so damn focused on getting to them.

(You know why, baby brother. Y' pushed her away like a goddamn idiot and now your girl is tryin' to find better company. Tired of hangin' around your idiot ass, I reckon. Ain't surprisin', is it?)

He shoved Merle's voice away as hard as he could, but damn it if the thoughts didn't linger. Because it made sense, didn't it? Beth had never given up on their family, or him, but he'd sort of given up on her in a way. Or at least, he'd betrayed her trust in him by treating her the way he damn well knew she didn't want to be treated.

Kid.

Fucking ridiculous how one goddamn word could fuck things up so bad.

The thought had him frowning even deeper. He had slowed without realizing it until he saw movement and glanced up to catch sight of Beth looking over her shoulder at him. Now's your chance. Open your mouth, say somethin', y' damned idiot. But he didn't. He just looked at her slightly gape-mouthed, shook his head, and moved to catch up. He didn't know what to say. He never fucking did and now, he was just gonna have to live with it.

Beth strode through the woods with single-minded purpose, the way she always did when she set her mind to things. She had no idea what Daryl was thinking about behind her, but then, that man was a goddamn mystery to her most days. Which wasn't so bad, except when he did something that sent her reeling, like the other day.

"Y' did good, kid."

Kid. Like she was 12 or something, like she was Carl. It would have been bad enough regardless, but to have it come in the moment it had… Even now three days later Beth kept churning it over in her mind. That moment after she'd hit the rabbit and everything had been all… electric. Like there was actual electricity crackling through her veins as she'd looked into Daryl's eyes and sensed their breathing at the same rhythm, sensed both of them leaning in closer as their eyes met and heat flashed between them, like that night in the funeral home only even more intense and then…

"Y' did good, kid." Like a splash of cold water right over her. Ever since then, nothing had felt right. Beth knew she was putting distance between them, but it was the other thing she could think to do. Because being called a 'kid' by him in that moment hurt, but she knew it could hurt even more if she allowed herself to feel those things for him any longer. If she allowed herself to think about what she felt, allowed them to deepen, only to have him push her away again.

She wasn't gonna let herself fall for a man who thought of her as a goddamn kid. Even if it was Daryl; even if it was the one person who trusted her as much as she trusted him, the one person who seemed to believe in her. Or had, anyway.

It was probably no surprise she'd woken up that morning with Maggie in her mind. Upset and unable to stop churning over that moment in her mind, Beth had longed for comfort, for familiarity… for the sister she'd once curled up with to gossip about boys or gone to for advice about anything. She missed her home, she missed her family, she missed being able to do something about that longing.

She couldn't go home, she couldn't see her Mama or her Daddy or her big brother Shawn… but there was Maggie. Somewhere out there in this mess of a forest full of shambling walkers, was her sister. And Beth knew it. So she'd set out with that single-minded focus to find her, hoping her gut would guide her the way Daryl's seemed to guide him, and when he told her she was heading towards the railway tracks, Beth knew in an instant that it had.

Of course she had no way of knowing what Daryl was thinking, but if she had she'd have corrected him in a heartbeat, regardless of whether she was upset with him. She wasn't trying to replace him. She wasn't trying to find people who were better company than him because the truth was in the end, Beth would never change who she'd ended up with after the prison. She just longed for her sister, for someone who understood her (or had, before all this anyway). She just needed her family.

(She didn't want to admit to herself that the person she really wanted to talk to, the person she really needed, was Daryl. Because what were you supposed to do when the person you needed was the person you were hurt by or angry at?)

It was the afternoon by the time they reached the train tracks and Beth didn't hesitate to steer them right alongside them, despite the looks from Daryl at her side. She just curled her fingers tighter around the strap of her bag and strode forward purposefully. She didn't think about the looks he was giving her, or the expression on his face like he maybe felt hurt and guilty all at the same time. She definitely didn't think about the way he kept opening and closing his mouth like he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words.

(Because there was a part of her that ached to help him. A part of her that knew he needed that help, a part that knew, logically, that he was bad at getting across what he was feeling. The problem was that was too close to her knowledge that it was that same issue of his that was probably all tied up in him calling her 'kid' the other day. It still stung too much for Beth to be open to considering that maybe he hadn't fully meant it.)

It was late afternoon when she saw the sign up ahead. Dimly she was aware of the map hung on it, a series of criss-crossing lines with a star in the center, pinned to the wooden frame. But that wasn't what she really saw. What leapt out of her, bright red and urgent, was one word at first:Maggie.

Beth's heart leaped right into her throat and her feet moved to follow. Ignoring everything around her, she moved towards the sign at a jog and then a race, her heart pounding to the rhythm of her feet as that word leaped out at her again and again: Maggie, Maggie, Maggie. Her sister was alive, her sister was close, her sister, her sister, her sister…

It wasn't until she got a few feet away that the other words registered. Trains were a thing of the past, but standing there on those railroad tracks Beth felt like she'd been hit by one head-on as those words slammed into her mind:

Glenn, go to Terminus. -Maggie.

Glenn.

Glenn, go to Terminus.

Maggie.

Her fingers clenched and unclenched at her sides and there was a roaring in her ears and she couldn't stop searching the sign, couldn't stop looking for the addition that should have been there, couldn't stop trying to find the four letters of her own name.

But it wasn't there. There was no plea to her to follow, no hope that she might see this sign and come for her sister.

And then, she understood why. She got it. Maggie hadn't written any signs for her; she'd written them for her husband and him alone. Because of course Maggie knew that Glenn would get out. Of course she knew he'd survive and come after her and find her.

But Beth? Beth was just another fragile girl slitting her wrists because she missed her Mama. Beth was porcelain, Beth was breakable, Beth was just another dead girl.

Beth was just a goddamn kid.

She only dimly registered Daryl coming up beside her, and his low and rough murmuring of her name failed to truly cut through the haze in her mind, through the buzz in her ears and the seeming-throb of those words in her head.

Glenn, go to Terminus. -Maggie.

Beth drew in a breath so ragged it caught in her throat, and through the haze she realized her eyes were burning and stinging. She was on the brink of crying, like a baby, like a…

Like a kid.

With a whimper she barely even heard, Beth spun sharply away from the sign. Her shoulder banged into Daryl's side but she didn't feel it or the jolt to her injured wrist that followed. She barely even saw him. Through the blur in her eyes she stared only at the woods beyond and tried to find that single-minded focus again as she strode determinedly into them.

Daryl followed after her into the woods, unaware that there was a desperation in his voice as he called out low and urgently, "Beth. Beth!"

But she kept on pushing forward, shoving aside anything that got away and fuck if he couldn't blame her. He was furious, himself. He'd seen the words on that damn sign as she'd been running towards them and ever since they'd first registered the anger had been buzzing in his veins.

Maggie Fucking Greene.

How could she have a sister as good as Beth, and not even care? How could she give up so damn easily on a sister who had never once given up on her? Beth had mentioned her sister almost every day since they'd escaped the prison. He'd heard so many stories about Maggie, he'd listened more than once to Beth's confidence that her sister was out there, looking for her.

Fuck, he'd reassured her himself, back at that damn cabin.

Do you think she misses me?
Course she does. You're her sister.

He hadn't even hesitated then and now he was furious, because of course Maggie had to go and prove him wrong. Or maybe in a way she'd just proved the old him right. Wasn't no point in having faith in people because people were shit, right? People gave up on you, people left you behind, people didn't care.

But that wasn't true, was it? Not entirely. Because Beth cared. Beth had never once given up on her sister or on him, even after he'd screamed at her that day, throwing his words like knives at every tender spot on her he'd ever noticed and filed away: Never relied on anyone for protection before. Never sung out in front of a big group out in public like everything was fun. Like everything was a big game. I sure as hell never cut my wrists looking for attention.

Even after that she hadn't given up on him, just like she'd never stopped believing that their family was out there somewhere, alive and looking for her and him the way she was looking for them.

Well she was right about the first part anyway. They were alive, or they had been. But like him, apparently, Maggie Greene was a fucking idiot. Only she wasn't here to have to live with the mess she'd made. Daryl was.

Somehow, Daryl Dixon was all Beth had, and despite knowing in some dark part of him that she deserved far better, he remembered his promise back at the cabin when she'd been lit like an angel by that golden light. He'd promised to protect her. He'd promised not to let her be hurt.

Time to man up, baby brother. Time to put on your big boy britches and get shit done..

"Beth." This time he said her name forcefully, closing the gap between them in one big stride and reaching to curl his fingers around her arm to turn her towards him.

"Don't!" She spun on him, hair wild around her face and eyes so damn wide and bright, almost shimmering with what he knew after a moment had to be tears. "Don't! I'm fine, okay? I'm fine, Daryl."

"No, y' ain't." The words came roughly out of him, catching in his throat before he forced them free only to falter, not sure what else to say. His eyes roved over her, taking in the tightness of her lips and the pain in her eyes and fuck, he just wished he knew what the hell to say.

She reminded him of that day he'd thrown his barbs at her, the day he'd dragged her outside and shouted at her, calling her… what had it been?Dumb college bitch.

Yeah, she looked like that now, except there was more pain than anger in her eyes as she lashed out, "I ain't gonna cry, if that's what you're worried about. I'm fine, okay? I ain't gonna break down and cry like some- like some-" She dragged in a hitching breath and spat out at him, "Like some damn kid."

There it was. His own words hurled back at him, sinking into him like they must have sunk right into her, sharp as a knife. It hurt like hell, but in the process it must've cut something loose inside him, sliced through one of the many walls he kept up and wrapped around him. Because without thinking he growled back, "You ain't a kid, Beth. You ain't." He took a step towards her and stopped, his voice softer as he added, "And I never should have called you that, just 'cause I was scared."

There was something else in those big wide eyes as she looked up at him now, something like amazement or confusion, maybe, mixed in with the hurt and the anger. And as he watched Beth trembled, like something was coming undone inside of her, too. When her lips finally parted, all she breathed out was a broken and pained whisper, "Maggie..."

"I know." He took a step towards her, and then another, even as she turned her back to him as if to run away. But she didn't run, not this time. She stood there with her back to him and her whole body trembling, and he did the only thing he could think of. He came up behind her just like she had to him once, and his arms slipped around her waist as he leaned down and pressed his forehead to her back. "I know," he whispered. "Just let it out. It's okay, Beth. I…" He swallowed hard, but with one last shudder of the girl in his arms, Daryl forced himself to finish, "I got you."

And he did. He held her tightly as she let go in his arms, trembling and shaking between sobs just like he had when she'd finally broken down some of his walls and got him to let it out. Now she was the one breaking down and he was the one holding her up, anchoring her just like she had for him all those weeks ago. And as he stood there in the middle of the woods with Beth Greene so damn small and trembling in his arms, her hands hanging in front of her and her back pressed to his broad chest, her own words from just a few nights ago echoed in his mind.

So as she drew in another ragged breath in between sobs, Daryl turned his head so his lips were near to her ear and he whispered her words right back to her: "Being able to cry just means you're strong enough t' admit you're upset. Remember? You're strong, Beth, you are. An' if your sister don't know it, then she's an idiot. But I know it, and you know it. Don't you go forgettin' that. You're strong, Beth. So you cry, if you need to. I ain't goin' nowhere."

And he wouldn't. He didn't. He held her back against him and let her cry it out until her sobs turned to whimpers and the whimpers just faded to little ragged breaths that nonetheless tugged at something inside of him, something aching, something all tied up in his urge to keep her safe and never let her get hurt again.

"C'mon," he murmured, simple and easy once she was calm. "Sun is gonna set, soon. Should find somethin' for the night."

She turned without pulling away, and though he warred with himself Daryl didn't draw his arms back. He left them around her for just a moment, his hands shifting to rest on her hips as she looked up at him and whispered, "Thanks."

"Don't have t' thank me, girl." Awkward and unsure, his hands began to slip away slowly but reluctantly, as if he thought he should let go but didn't quite want to. "Meant everythin' I said. You ain't a kid, an' I never should've called you one."

She looked for a moment like there was something right on the tip of her tongue that she wanted to ask, only she bit it back at the last moment and just gave him a tremulous little hint of a smile. Nothing much, but so much better for the ache in his heart at how she'd looked all teary-eyed and red-face. And when she stood up straighter with her injured wrist tucked close to her stomach and said firmly, "So we gotta find shelter, right?" He felt a stirring of pride at the determination and strength in his voice.

Beth was strong. She was stronger than anyone else he knew and the evidence was there right now as she drew herself up from the depths of a broken heart and focused on the task at hand.

There wasn't anyone else he'd want to have at his side and now, as far as he was concerned, the others could go screw themselves. EspeciallyMaggie Greene.

But he wasn't gonna say that to Beth, not now anyway. Not when it was all so fresh and fragile for her still. He just gave her a nod and with a hand on her back, guided them both deeper into the woods towards the direction where his gut said they might find shelter for the night.

Daryl was still worried for her, without a doubt… but there was no denying he felt a hint of relief when he realized that she was right by his side and he couldn't feel that yawning chasm of distance between them anymore.