**A/N: I am really happy with this chapter guys, so I hope you are too. Also I hope you don't mind that part of this turned into a sort of history lesson somehow. I get a little carried away when it comes to researching things. I just wanted to try something different! You'll see. Enjoy!
The sun was just setting and painting a golden light across the tops of the trees when Beth brought him to a stop with a faint little whistle. Turning to look at her with a raise of his eyebrow, Daryl saw Beth nod and then point to the distance where he now saw a roof, breaking through the line of the trees.
"Good spottin'," he murmured low and roughly, darting a glance over at her just in time to spot the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It wasn't much but it was something, considering how quiet she'd been the last hour since they'd spotted that sign by the railroad tracks. They'd been heading steadily away from them again either instinctively or purposefully, Daryl didn't know. It didn't really matter. Right now his only goal was to get them somewhere safe and to do better for Beth than her own damn sister was.
He figured if she wanted to head away from the tracks for now, then that was what they'd do. It wasn't like he could blame her for it. Hell, getting away from those damn tracks sounded pretty good to him, too.
And it had led them here to what he thought, as they broke through the woods and into an overgrown clearing, was just an old wooden building. It looked to be about two stories, the wooden boards worn with age and the roof patchy in spots where the shingles had fallen off. The entire thing was half-covered in thick green clinging vines of kudzu. Given how it tended to encompass everything whenever it took root, he was almost surprised that any of the building was exposed, but he could see at least half of it; including the chimney that stuck up from the roof.
"Huh." Daryl reached a hand up and wiped it across his brow to brush away the bit of sweat that dampened it as he stood at the edge of the woods with his legs firmly braced. Just another building, although a much older one than they'd encountered before.
But it was Beth again who pointed to the side of the building and said, "Look. You see that? Like a wheel…" It took him a moment but then he spotted it; a massive wooden wheel half-covered in bracken and kudzu, mounted against the side of the building.
"Water wheel," he remarked, cocking his head and squinting his eyes as he studied the building again through fresh eyes. "Might've been some kinda mill, once. Would've been a stream here, or somethin'. Could've dried up or gotten diverted.."
"I wonder what kinda mill it was," Beth mused, sounding almost curious in a way that pulled Daryl's gaze to her again. For the first time since the railroad tracks she seemed to be perking up a bit with interest, perhaps at the chance to explore something new. It was a change from the low spirits she had sunk into and Daryl fully intended to seize on that change.
"C'mon," he said, pulling his crossbow off his back and taking a moment to draw it in preparation before shouldering it, just in case. "Let's go find out."
She even smiled at him. It was tiny, sure, but it was still there, and even a tiny smile from Beth was something near radiant. Holding the image of that little smile in his mind, Daryl led the way forward with Beth at his side. He moved slowly, conscious still of her injured ankle and the broken wrist she held carefully to her stomach while she tightly gripped her knife in her other hand. So far he didn't see a single worrying sign around them, though he knew that didn't mean anything and he stayed cautious and on edge, ready for whatever they might find. Soon they reached the side of the water wheel and Daryl hummed as he crouched down beside it.
"Still a bit of water here. More like a brook now…" He looked around at the ground, peering off into the distance before letting his gaze track back again to study the depression in the ground and the rocks that lines the bottom of it. "Must've been bigger, once. A stream, even a river. Enough to run this wheel an' power the mill."
Beth crouched slowly beside him and it was she who reached out to touch the water, running her fingers through it before lifting her damp fingers with a soft smile. "But there's water still. That's always good."
With a nod and a faint hint of a smile at her optimism, Daryl reached into his bag and pulled out their two water bottles; figuring he might as well fill them while they had the chance. Beth took one and he the other and once the plastic was filled to the brim with water he rose slowly to his feet and brought his bow with him. "C'mon, let's get a look inside."
From what he could tell there was only one entrance to the place, which in his mind was both good and bad. Good because it was easily defensible but bad because a back door might provide a quick exit when needed. Thankfully his sharp gaze had already picked out a good-sized window at the back that might work in a pinch, something he filed away in his mind to check as they approached the front door of the mill.
The old wooden door was slightly warped but still sturdy, echoing with a loud thump as Beth banged on it, hesitated, and then pulled it open and darted aside to leave Daryl to cover it. With the ease of having done this what felt like a hundred times before, they cleared the doorway and moved slowly inside. Daryl kept Beth right behind him, resisting the urge to reach back with a hand and keep her tucked safely against his back. Despite his desire to keep her safe, she had proved again and again that she could handle herself. He only had to remember the cabin they'd last cleared together to know that.
Hell, he really only had to remember an hour ago at those railroad tracks, the way she'd broken down only to bring herself back together again. She was strong and they both knew it.
The dim light from the open door and the few windows that dotted the walls revealed a large and open space. Almost every inch of it seemed to be wood, from the natural hardwood floors to the walls and the beams holding up the upper level, to the ceiling above them. At least, from what he could see in the dim darkness. In a smooth motion Daryl slipped his flashlight free from his bag and offered it to Beth, trusting her to light the way so he could keep his hands on his bow.
Holding it gingerly in her injured and braced wrist, she clicked the light on and began to guide it over the room to light up the interior even further. The round beam of light glided over wooden beams and barrels and crates to the glint of lanterns that hung on the wall and a pile of what looked like sacks in one far corner, before coming to settle on a large round structure in the center. Nothing moved but the dust motes flickering through the beam of light until Beth steadied it and exclaimed, "Oh! I know what this is, I think!"
Only her caution seemed to keep her from rushing towards it, judging by the way she took a step and paused, darting a look at him to make sure he was at her side before she moved slowly forward. The closer they got, the more her light illuminated the structure that dominated the large and open room. The large circular wooden base contained what looked to be a round stone set into it, above which a wooden chute stretched down from the ceiling. Daryl glanced at Beth, his eyebrows raised in question as she ran her fingers lightly over the stone with a smile.
"It's an old Grist Mill!" When her exclamation only got that same look, Beth went on, "Like a flour mill, or a corn mill. This is where they'd grind grain into flour, see?" She pointed up to the chute, where it disappeared into the ceiling. "Up on the second floor, they'd pour the grain into a bin or something, and it would come down the chute here where the grindstone would grind it. The wheel outside must have powered the grindstone!" She turned around, her face all lit up with curiosity as she went on, "There's probably another floor beneath us, a basement. That's where the flour would go once it had been ground up, and that's where the big gears would be, you know, to make the grindstone turn."
He studied her for a moment, unaware that a little smile had quirked up at the corner of his lips. "How d'you know all this, girl?"
"Oh." She blushed as she turned back to him with a shrug of her shoulder. "I really loved history class in school, you know? We took a field trip once to an old grist mill, it was a little bigger than this but it was still functioning." She shrugged again, a little lift of one shoulder before she gave him a small smile. "I just like stuff like this. How they used to do things before electricity and all." Suddenly she gave a little laugh, more a single 'hah' than the usual giggles he had become used to."Guess that's kinda funny now, since we're almost back to that in a way. No electricity and all."
His hum and a nod were simple but when he came up behind her he found himself briefly placing his hand on her lower back and saying softly, "Ain't never gone on a field trip to a place like this." He shrugged. "Never much went on field trips at all. My Pa would never sign the forms. Ma did, but then…" Daryl's voice trailed off as he glanced down to clear his throat instead. He didn't have to go on, though. Beth knew. She knew more about him than pretty much anyone, now.
Just as she knew how to handle his mood right now, nudging her arm gently into his as she joked, "Well I can't promise I'd be the best tour guide, but we can have a field trip right now, Mr. Dixon."
With the way she was looking up at him, a smile on her lips and the crease of pain and worry over her sister's actions banished for the moment, there was no way he could say no even if he wanted to. Which he didn't, not one bit. Instead he just gestured to the room with a 'go on' wave of his hand and a hint of a little smirk.
To his amusement she stepped back and spread both arms, gesturing to the grindstone in the center of the room as she intoned, "And here we have the grindstone of the mill. There are actually two stones positioned within the frame, one on the bottom which stays still and one on top which turns to grind the grain." That was about as far as Beth got before she giggled, the amused little laughter spilling out of her lips and lighting up her face as she glanced up at him. Her normal voice returned as she asked, "How was my tour guide voice, good?"
"Not bad," he murmured in reply, though the truth was he'd never really been on any kinda tour before, so he didn't have much to judge by. It had been enough to amuse them both, though admittedly Daryl didn't mind when she switched back to her normal voice and gestured down to the other end of the room.
"The stairs should be over here… one going down to the basement and one up to the second floor, I think." She took a few cautious steps in that direction with him beside her. "We might have more luck upstairs but we should probably check downstairs just in case?"
Neither of them really liked the idea of descending into the dark basement, but it wasn't the first time they'd done something similar. Their talking and the sounds of their footsteps hadn't conjured anything up yet, so he was hopeful that the basement would prove empty. Of course, that hopefulness didn't diminish his caution as he lead the way slowly down the stairs that Beth had found. His crossbow was held up in front of him as Beth followed, the beam of her flashlight playing over his shoulder as he took slow and careful steps down the creaky wooden stairs.
As soon as they reached the bottom Beth began to play the beam of the flashlight across the room, sweeping it slowly to break the gloom of the cool basement. Numerous cobwebs and spiderwebs glinted in the beam of light, strung from the stone foundation falls to the machinery that filled the room, the largest of which was a massive gear mounted beneath the ceiling. Once her flashlight had revealed not a single walker in sight, Beth slipped around him and into the room, training the beam of light onto the gear.
"See?" She trailed the flashlight away from the gear to the wall beside it and said, "The water would turn the wheel outside, which would then turn the small gear attached to this bit here, that would in turn make this big gear turn-" She played the beam up again at the massive wheel again and went on, "-and that turns the grindstone on top! And then when the grain would get grinded up, it would come down the shaft here!" A turn of her hand lit up the chute that extended down from the ceiling above them, before she turned to him with a grin. "Isn't that cool?"
He chuckled. "Yeah, s'cool, I guess."
"Well I think it is," Beth said brightly, moving around until she found a pile of old sacks and reached down to pick one up. They were empty but still sturdy, despite the fact that he figured this mill had been out of use for a long, long time. "You know, if we ever really wanna survive eventually… I mean, as a group-" She faltered for a moment, pain flashing across her face in an echo of the pain he had seen back at the railroad tracks. He knew she had to remembering her sister, knew she had to be thinking of their family and how perhaps none of them even believed that she had survived. He took a step towards her, thinking he needed to say something even if he wasn't sure what, but then she blinked a few times and the pain was shuttered as she went on in a falsely bright tone, "-we're gonna have to relearn how to do things like this. Grinding grain and making bread, you know? Lord, I miss bread. Don't you?"
He figured anyone else would've pushed her to talk about what was clearly bothering her, but Daryl wasn't anyone else. He was never the prying type and hell, if anyone understood not wanting to talk about things that upset you, it was him. Plus after all this time, he knew Beth. She'd talk about it when she was ready and not a moment sooner.
"Well, good thing we got you, then," he remarked easily, running his gaze over the large gear one more time before it strayed back to the slim figure standing a few feet away. Her face was lit up in the faint glow of the flashlight and she seemed oblivious to the cobweb now tangled in her hair. Something about her complete ease with the dirt and dust made him give a hint of a smile as he went on, "Y'know, tour guide and expert on mills and all, right?"
It must've been the right thing to say, cause he was sure the smile she gave him was brighter than the beam of her flashlight before she cleared her throat and said, "Speaking of me being your tour guide, we still have a whole floor to see to. C'mon then, Mr. Dixon."
The third floor was just as empty as the other two and Daryl found himself breathing a sigh of relief as soon as they determined that. These days you never knew what you might find lurking inside any building and he was grateful that at least this time they hadn't had to fight to claim shelter for the night.
"Hold on," he said when he saw Beth about to continue her little tour. "Lemme go secure the door downstairs, an' then you can go on." Wanting her to know he wasn't bored or nothing, he added after a moment in a playful tone, "Miss Greene."
Only when he saw a hint of a smile again did he turn and make his way back downstairs to secure the front door. He was pleased to see it had a bolt on it to lock it from inside, but he still took the time to drag over an old table and prop it in front just in case. After checking to make sure the back window opened (it did) and that it could serve as an emergency escape (an easy drop of only a couple feet), he headed back upstairs to the top floor where Beth was waiting.
"So," Beth started right up again as soon as Daryl gave her a nod to let her know it was all secure. "See, this bin here is where they'd pour the grain in! And it'd go down the chute to the grindstone below. They probably stored the grain up here in those bins. Probably empty now." She gestured to the wall and gave another little shrug and a soft laugh. "This floor isn't as exciting as the other two were, sorry..."
"Ain't got nothin' to be sorry for," he drawled, coming up around behind her. His hand snaked out to tug lightly on the braid that was drawn back into her ponytail, and Daryl smirked as she spun to look at him with a soft 'hey'. Moving past her, he added, "Best tour I ever had."
"You said you'd never had a tour before," Beth teased right back as she followed after him, moving softly over the worn wooden floorboards.
"Yeah well even if I'd had I reckon this'd be the best, 'cause of you." He wasn't sure he'd meant to add the last, and something about it made the tips of his ears burn before he turned away and gestured to the end of the room. "Looks like the workers spent some time here," he remarked, pointed to a small table and chairs, an ancient wood stove, and what looked to be a very old camp bed with a mattress he was sure had to be unsleepable by now.
"Or the owner," Beth remarked, drifting past him to run her hands over the end of the bed frame. Though she frowned as the rusty metal flaked off under her fingers, she went on easily, "A lot of times it was a community of farmers that supported a mill. You know like how… how there were all those farms around ours, back home? They'd have a whole community of 'em that all grew wheat and grain and one mill. The miller would mill all the grain for them and take his own cut, or whatever. Lots of towns and villages had their own too, I think."
"Didn't see no town or village 'round here," Daryl remarked as he came up beside the iron stove. "Reckon it might be farm land all around here?"
"Maybe." Beth shrugged one delicate shoulder and turned to watch him as he crouched down by the stove and tried to carefully open it.
"Could be good. Might be a good area to stay for a little bit if we want. We can make runs to the farms for supplies." He looked up at her for a long moment, meeting her blue eyes until he saw that sadness shift in them. Carefully he added, "But we don't have to decide yet." His attention turned back to the stove and he hummed. "This might still work though. Reckon we could get some wood from downstairs and give it a try, maybe have a warm meal for tonight. If you want."
At her nod he rose to her feet and gave a nod of his own, "Alright then. Now that your tour is over, Miss Greene, let's get a better look at this place and see what we can find."
By the time they returned back to the top floor of the mill, they'd rummaged up a little bit more than just wood for the fire. That had been the first and easiest find, with Daryl simply breaking apart and old wooden crate and stacking up the slats by the stairs to carry up when they returned. It had been Beth who had spotted the other crates tucked into a corner down in the basement, which seemed to be filled with stuff abandoned when the mill had closed down, or perhaps left throughout the years by whoever was maintaining the place.
One of the finds had been several old hardcover books hidden away at the bottom of a box. Beth had pulled them out rather triumphantly, dust smeared across her cheek and a grin on her lips as she held them up. "Look at these! They're from the 1930s, according to these dates. Maybe whoever used to own this place or handle the upkeep…" She aimed the flashlight down at them, pursed her lips, and blew the dust off the cover of the top one. From the bright yellow jacket of the book she read: "The Maltese Falcon, oh, that's a classic!" Flipping to the covers of the other two books she went on, "The Postman Always Rings Twice... and… Red Harvest. Well I haven't heard of that last one, but the first two are definitely classics."
"Classics in what?" Daryl had raised an eyebrow as he leaned against the wall and looked down at her, fighting the urge to brush the dust from her cheek with the pad of his thumb.
"Detective novels, you know, like noir or whatever, I can't remember what they called them. Maggie had a boyfriend in high school once who wasobsessed with these…" She had started off brightly, but the moment she mentioned her sister Daryl could see her falter, the delight fading from her expression as her shoulders slumped slightly.
Crouching down beside her, Daryl had tried his best to redirect her attention. "Y'mean like those old black and white movies? Men with big hats and cigarettes and gangsters?"
Beth looked up at him with a tentative smile. "Yeah and there's almost always a dame involved. You know, some leggy blonde or something."
"Kinda like you." Yet again he spoke without thinking, and his ears might have burned once more, but it had been worth it for the smile on her lips.
"I'm so not leggy," she'd remarked as she climbed to her feet. But she was still smiling as she clutched the books to her chest and headed back to the stairs and as Daryl followed behind her his gaze drifted briefly down and he couldn't help thinking she seemed pretty leggy to him, anyway.
Not that he was paying too much attention to her legs, or anything.
Back upstairs they'd covered the few small windows in some of the spare sacks, and then Daryl had gotten a small fire going in the wood stove, only adding to it when he was sure the stove was still intact and wouldn't burn the place down or anything. Their second to last can of food was set on the stove to cook, reminding Daryl they'd definitely need to go out hunting tomorrow for more. For tonight however, they were settled in nice and safe and snug.
Or at least that was how it felt after eating, when Beth dragged the old mattress off the camp bed and over in front of the stove to sit cross-legged on it before gesturing for him to join her. With the way she lit by the faint glow from the stove, he only hesitated a moment before moving to joined her, sitting beside her with his legs crossed and his crossbow beside him.
"I was thinking we could read a bit," Beth murmured, holding up one of the books she'd found earlier. "I just think you'd like these, is all. Crime solving and stuff, it's kinda cool. We could read aloud maybe?"
His brow furrowed and he pulled his gaze away to look into the fire so he could avoid looking at her. "You don't want me readin' for you."
Perplexed, she peered up at him and asked, "Why not?"
"Ain't too good at it." Daryl shrugged one shoulder and tried to deflect, "You're the one with the nice voice." That was true of course, but it was really only part of it.
Beth didn't seem inclined to push; she almost never did. Her voice was soft and casual as she replied, "I used to get that in school, too. My teachers always made me read longer than anyone else because I guess they liked my voice, or how I read."
He could see that. She had a good voice, soft and warm, almost melodic. He bet she never stumbled over words she didn't quite know, never mispronounced shit and had the whole class laughing at her and calling her a hick. Daryl's brow furrowed even further as he stared firmly into the flickering light of the stove and remarked lowly, "Weren't never much good at school. Teachers never called on me."
Beth was quiet for a few long moments, as if she couldn't decide what to say or perhaps whether or not to say it. It was only when he glanced over at her and raised an eyebrow that she asked hesitantly, "How far did you get, in school? What year, I mean?"
It was another of those moments. The ones where if it had been anyone else he'd have blown them off, told them to fuck off even or just looked away without answering. But it was Beth and he'd told her so much already that it didn't seem like much of a big deal to meet her eyes and admit lowly, "Tenth year, I guess. But barely. Dropped out when I was sixteen, never looked back."
He wasn't sure what he'd expected her to say instead, but her smile caught him off guard, just as her reply did when she said, "Me too. I only got to sophomore year, tenth grade and then you know… end of the world and all, no more buses running."
And just as simple as that, she'd managed to find the knot of his worry and cut right through it. The funny thing was, he'd never even thought of it like that. There'd been a time where he'd seen her as this little girl with a perfect life; the family he'd never had, the home he'd never had. There were times around everyone, including her, where he felt like the idiot he was pretty sure a lot of them thought he was, too. And yet now she'd pointed it out that they had pretty much the same level of education… and though he was sure she'd done far better in school than he ever had, it was still oddly equalizing in a way.
Something about that must have shown on his face because she was giving him a soft smile and leaning in to brush her arm against his once more as she added playfully, "It's okay, I don't need high school anymore. I've got something even better."
"Oh yeah?" He couldn't imagine what that was.
"Yep!" She lifted the book into her lap and opened it before darting another little smile up at him. "Daryl Dixon University. I don't think I've graduated yet, but I'm getting there. And I think I'm a pretty good student, most times…"
His chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, but when he finally spoke his voice was softer and more serious, and without thinking he found himself reaching out to tuck a stray bit of hair behind her ear as he murmured, "Best student I ever had." The tips of his ears burned and he drew his hand back, but Beth didn't pull away. She just smiled and leaned into him a bit before looking down into her lap once more.
Soon, the melodious sound of her voice filled the air, and a little while later when she started to sound worn out, Daryl only hesitated a moment before sliding the book into his lap to take over reading in her stead.
About halfway through the book both of them were worn out, and not just from going back and forth and sharing the reading. It had been a long and trying day; from the tension between them, to the revelation at the railroad tracks and everything that had followed. Daryl wasn't at all surprised to see Beth drifting beside, growing steadily sleepier until her head had come to lightly rest on his shoulder.
He'd thought she might have fallen asleep by the time he closed the book and set it aside, but when he looked at her she was staring into the fire, eyes unblinking. He sensed a shift in her and it was yet another thing that he could wait out patiently, giving her the time and quiet she needed to voice it if she wanted to.
It was just a couple minutes later that she murmured softly, "I always knew she was out there. I just knew, in my gut, that she was still alive. Didn't I tell you, again and again?" She had of course, but he didn't think she wanted an actual response to that. So he stayed silent, and sure enough she went on, "But I always imagined it differently. I always imagined she'd be looking for me the way I was for her. Sometimes I even thought that she'd be the one to find us, you know? That she'd drag Glenn through hell and high water to find me. The only family she had left." She blinked just once, and sighed. "I should've known better."
The last had him raising an eyebrow, though still he stayed quiet and after a moment she filled his silence again with her low, tense voice. "Maggie just… she has a one-track mind. She'll focus on one thing and just… forget everything else. Sometimes it was me, but not always." A sad smile tightened across her full lips as her voice grew distant. "We used to have girl's nights when we were younger. We'd spend the night in each other's rooms or we'd take over the living room and watch a romantic comedy and sneak ice cream out of the freezer when Daddy was asleep. Only sometimes as we got older, Maggie would forget. She'd have a date, usually, and she'd forget to even tell me, and when she came back she'd always act like it was nothin' that she forgot, or that a boy had asked her out and she'd said yes without even thinking about me. But I'd always forgive her because she was my sister, you know?"
If her eyes were blinking a little more rapidly now, or if they looked brighter with unshed tears, Daryl didn't comment aloud. But after a moment he did shift to slide one arm gently around her shoulder until she hummed and leaned into him. "I guess I thought something like this wouldn't be like that because it was so much bigger than forgetting a girl's night. Maybe it was different... 'cause I dunno if she forgot me like she used to. I think she just… thought Glenn was a better chance. I think she figured if anyone was gonna get out and survive and find her, it was him. And he's her husband, so of course she'd want to find him, but I think… I think she thought he was out there… and I wasn't."
It was her mention of Glenn being a better chance that made him want to speak up, to make some denial, but Beth beat him to it. Her voice was low and almost rough in it's conviction as she breathed out, "She was wrong. I've got just as good a chance as Glenn ever had, and I always did. She should have believed in me, but she didn't. She was wrong." She turned to look up at him and his heart wrenched at the look of pain and anguish in her big blue eyes. He'd have taken a swing at anyone who ever dared to make Beth Greene look like that. If Maggie had been here, he'd have done it in a heartbeat; verbally at the very least, if not physically.
But she wasn't here, Beth was. Beth with the pain in her eyes and the hint of a quiver to her lower lip as she looked up at him, trying so damn hard to be strong and believe in herself. "She damn well was wrong," he responded in a gruff firm voice as his free hand came around to cup her chin and hold her gaze to his. "She was. Look at you. Sprained ankle, broken wrist, and you're still trekking through the forest like you were born to do it. Better than your sister ever was, trust me. Had enough runs with her and her clodhopper feet snapping twigs ever two steps."
The laugh she gave was higher than it should have been, bubbling like the tears did in her eyes but he could tell it was a good laugh. The kind of laugh she'd needed. Because when it faded, she blinked back her tears and he saw some of the tension ease from her body. "Maybe I'm like this place, you know. Like grain, getting turned into flour. I was already strong but getting out of the prison and being with you, it's like it ground me up even finer. Made me stronger." In the faint glow from the stove fire, he studied her face as she talked, unconsciously shifting his hand to brush his thumb over the line of her jaw.
At the touch of the pad of his thumb over her soft skin Beth sighed and tilted her head against his hand and lord if that didn't feel nice. Like there was something unfurling inside of him again, something warm and content. He felt almost like a cat curled up in a warm patch of sunlight, only for him the light shone from a sweet little blonde with eyes like a piece of sky. He felt like he could soak up that feeling all night if she'd let him, and she seemed to have no desire to pull away. In fact she just stayed there, eyes slitted half-shut, almost like a cat herself enjoying his touch as he continued to gently stroke his thumb over her jaw and across the soft apple of her cheek until she breathed out a content sigh.
"You know what you were saying earlier?" Her voice was soft and hazy and sweet, and he was glad to hear that the tightness had faded from it. "'About staying here for a few days, making runs to check out the farms nearby?"
"Mhm." Daryl hummed a reply as he watched her, mesmerized by how at ease she seemed to feel in his presence.
"I think we should do that." Her eyes opened slowly to fix on him and he could see that comfort in her gaze, too; all full of trust and safety and affection… and then just a tiny, tiny hint of doubt as she added, "If… if you want to. Unless you think we should follow the tracks and try to find them."
He took just a moment to think it over but he didn't really need to. Not with her looking at him like that all full of every single thing he felt being like this with her, too. Even closer somehow than that night at the funeral home because tonight he didn't just have a silent stare to give her in return; he had words as well. "I think we should stay here if that's what you want. S'you and me now, ain't it?" She nodded slowly, and he gave her a hint of a smile. "Then it's you and me. As long as you're happy, I am." Daryl hesitated just another moment and then couldn't resist the urge to ask, "You happy staying here?"
"I am," she breathed out the words and lord if she wasn't looking up at him the same way she had that night in the flickering candlelight. Except her eyes had been all full of understanding that had been dawning then and now, in the light of the stove, seemed settled and known instead. "I'm happy staying here, with you."
"Then so am I." It was that simple. Just as simple as it was to draw her close and guide her head to rest against his chest. Just as simple as it was to lean down until his chin rested on top of her head and she breathed out a sigh against his shirt.
"Daryl?"
He let his chin lightly brush over her head (like a cat's affectionate rub) before settling again, "Mm."
"I'm glad it's just you and me."
She said it so honestly and simply that he knew she meant it. So as his fingers curled into her ponytail and lightly toyed with that little braid, Daryl just hummed and murmured back simply as well, "Me too."
**A/N: Hope you liked it! The 'something different' was the grist mill, by the way. I got tired of having them stumble onto random cabins, haha. Anyway I did my best to be accurate though it might not be 100% correct, I hope it's somewhat close. Favorites and reviews are always appreciated and thank you all again for continuing to read this! (See, I'm getting better about updating this one more often!)