Necessary Disclaimer:

I'm the author of this story. The Walking Dead is the source of the original work. Daryl Dixon/Beth Greene Fantasy. I don't know Daryl Dixon or Beth Greene, do not own the characters Daryl Dixon or Beth Greene, and do not mean to cause harm, confusion or headaches. This story is simply intended for enjoyment of the readers. Please don't sue me!

Beth stood at the edge of the cliff, watching the tendrils of smoke waft up, cutting through the fog to curl around the first rays of orange lighting the morning sky. Shades of gray wrapped around the top of the sun, casting the world below in a haze of light and fog.

It was fitting, she thought. A little bit of poetic symbolism the dawn after her world came crashing down. Even with all the horrors of the world on full display, swirling with the light, trying to force it out, bits still peaked through.

A twig snapped behind her, and she heard Daryl start to break down camp. She wondered sometimes, whether maybe she was more smoke and he was more fire. Yesterday morning she would have been so sure of his answer. Today, she thought it'd give him pause.

Watching her daddy's head tumble to the ground was without a doubt the worst thing Beth had ever witnessed in her entire life. Everything seemed to blur around her, shots whirring past her head, people firing in all directions, explosions, screams, death. But all Beth saw was her daddy falling to his knees, head rolling down the grass beside him. She wasn't sure how long she'd stood there frozen, a minute, an hour. As people moved and burned around her, Beth's mind sharpened in with acute clarity, and without hesitation she raised her hand, exhaled and pulled the trigger. A wave of cold crashed over her as she watched the bullet slam into the Governor's forehead, dead between the eyes. Her eyes narrowed as his body collapsed into a heap next to her daddy's.

Beth turned left, scanning the field for her next target. Exhaling, she pulled the trigger, but her shot went wide as a hand clamped down on her arm, jerking her hard to the right. She tried to yank her arm free, but suddenly Daryl's face was looming over her, slick with sweat and gunpowder, eyes wild. He was shaking her arms, screaming into her face. What was he saying? Beth couldn't hear anything, couldn't bring herself to focus on his lips and understand his words. Before she could shake him away he was pulling her, dragging her through the gravel towards the fence, away from it all, away from her daddy. She tried to break free, tried to pull away. She had to bury him, had to collect the pieces and put them back together again. Daddy deserved that, he deserved to rest in peace. But the man dragging her was insistent, and as she fought and struggled he just tossed her over his shoulder and ran through the hole and into the woods beyond, sprinting like she was just a mere feather on his shoulders.

The clearing of a throat behind her pulled her back, up out of the dark depths of her mind and into the light of day once again. She turned to see Daryl headed off in the woods, further away from the smoke at his back, from her. Not bothering to see if she followed, maybe even not caring anymore.

Beth turned and took one last look at the sunrise, at the smoke, at the past. "Go, Bethy," her daddy's voice whispered on the breeze, brushing past her face towards the man pacing away in the distance. Beth squeezed her eyes shut tight, holding in the tears, before blowing out a deep breath, turning to follow the breeze.

Daryl was being deliberately noisy so she could follow, she knew that. She knew it and was pissed at him for it. If she had any survival skills at all she should have been able to track him without him just laying it all out there for her. Screw him and his stomping and stick breaking. She needed to learn to take care of herself if she was going to survive.

Beth caught up to him as he rinsed his face off in the creek. He didn't even bother to turn at meet her eyes, look at her face, that damn asshole. Beth snorted at that thought. Who would have thought, innocent little Beth Greene, cussing in her mind like a sailor. She nodded firmly to herself as she knelt down and scooped some water up to her face. Innocent little Beth Greene was dead, died as soon as her daddy's head rolled to the ground.

Daryl stalked across the stream and continued on in the woods, not even bothering to wait for her to finish, still not saying a word. She finished up then followed after him, trying not to think about how much it was bothering her that he seemed to care less whether she was there or she wasn't.

They made camp in the woods that night, Daryl starting a fire then stalking off while she set up a few walker traps with some of the wire she'd found while they walked earlier. She noticed a blackberry bush as she wound the wire down, and picked a few handfuls before returning to the fire. If he wasn't back soon, she decided, then she'd just eat them herself, and he could fucking starve.

She blushed at that thought and shook her head. No, she'd save him some, who was she kidding. She may not even be alive if it weren't for him hauling her out of there and away from the fire and the bloodshed. She may not want to be if her behavior before he jerked her arm was any indication.

Daryl stomped back into camp and started to gut a bunny, still not bothering to acknowledge she was even there, alive, breathing the same damn air he was. He skinned it and dissected it before spitting the meat and starting to roast it over the fire. She waited till he finished setting up the spit, waited for him to look at her, speak to her, something.

Daryl finished roasting the rabbit. Pulled half the meat off, left the rest on the spit, and started gnawing on it. Didn't even offer her the half he left behind, just left it there.

Beth saw red as she got up to take her half of the spit, and did the first thing that came to mind. She launched a handful of blackberries hard as she could, snorting with glee as they smacked right into his face, splattering juice across his cheek and into his hair.

Her triumph was short-lived. Daryl was around the fire, grip on her arm like a steel vice as he lifted her up and slammed her back into the tree, looming over her. His eyes burned, bright and hard and pissed as hell. She watched the blackberry juice drip down the tip of his nose, and before she could think twice she stuck her tongue out to catch the juice as it fell, sighing at the sweet taste of berries mixing with the rough taste of Daryl's sweat.

His eyes darkened as they watched her tongue retreat and lick her lips, his pupils widening and the grip on her arm tightening further, tight enough to leave a bruise. She watched him, eyes narrowed and challenging, daring him to fight her, to scream and yell and curse her for everything that happened, for the berries, for all of it.

Suddenly he was releasing her arm, turning away from her before she could blink, stalking back to sit next to the fire and stare into the flames, face a mask of stone. Beth sucked in a tight breath, wondering about the tingling she felt in the pit of her belly. She filed that delicious sensation away to ponder later, as she made her way back to the fire and the man who caused it. Sitting, she pulled the rabbit off and finished it, popping in a few blackberries for dessert.

She wiped her hands down her jeans to get the rabbit grease off, before standing to make her way to a nearby tree to lay down for the night. She reached down and gathered the rest of the blackberries, setting them down gently next to Daryl, but he never turned to look, never turned his face away from the flames. Beth sighed heavily, stepped around him to the tree, and bedded down for the night.

They were running once again, camp overrun near dawn as they were packing up to move on. A small herd, twelve walkers total, stalking along behind them, moaning and groaning as their teeth snapped sensing fresh blood. As they broke through a field it started to drizzle, cold droplets seeping in to Beth's clothes and skin, chilling her to the bone. They paused at the next tree line, turning back to notice there were now about twenty walkers chasing them, pulling their decrepit bodies across the grass.

Beth started to shiver as she took a drink from her canteen before turning back to Daryl. "Gotta find somewhere to hide, too many for us to fight."

He turned and took off again, yelling "C'mon" over his shoulder. Their first words since the prison, since before, she realized. She sighed, sprinting after him into the forest. Could be worse, she figured. Least he finally acknowledged she was more than just a shadow behind him.

Daryl wove through the forest, and as the chill set in further and the shivering mixed with her heaving breath he pulled up quick, raising his crossbow and slowing to halt behind a tree. Beth caught up to him, body shaking as she glanced around the tree with a sigh of relief. He'd found a little shack, boarded up and seemingly abandoned, tucked into the woods.

She crept through the leaves with him, circling before approaching the only door. He met her eyes and tilted his head, and she nodded at him in return before knocking on the door. Not a sound from inside, so she reached out and turned the handle, pushing the door wide. Daryl ran in first, crossbow sweeping as she followed close behind, pistol raised. It was a one-room structure with a little bathroom off to the side. It was dusty and reeked of mold, but it was clean and dry, and there was even an oversized couch and an old radio set on a stand in the middle.

Beth dropped down to search the stand as Daryl boarded up the door behind her, sealing it shut and sealing them in for the night. A bit of gray peaked through the small window, and Beth could see the rain coming down harder than before. A shudder rolled through her as she realized how cold she was, and she squeezed her mouth shut trying to stop her teeth from rattling, breaking the silence of the room that settled over them.

Beth pulled two cans of beans and some water out of the side of the stand and tossed them towards Daryl as he cracked the window and started a small fire in the fireplace with what wood had been left there. Beth settled in front of it, shivering and holding her hands out for warmth. He sliced open the top of the first can of beans before placing it in the fire to warm.

"Gotta get outta them wet clothes 'fore ya get sick," he mumbled, tossing the words over his shoulder to her.

"Ain't got nothing else to wear," she said softly, teeth rattling as the shivering increased.

He went over to inspect the small bathroom, returning with a big flannel button up and a pair of men's briefs. "Won't fit, but it'll be dry," he said gruffly as he handed them to her.

Beth smiled her thanks and made her way back into the bathroom to change, before picking out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt from the drawers below the vanity. As she rummaged through, she found the bottom of the vanity had a false section she could left. Pulling it up, she chuckled softly, seeing mason jar after mason jar of clear liquid glittering in the twilight. "Jackpot," she whispered, scooping up a jar and the clothes before returning to the main room.

She tossed Daryl the clothes and held the jar up to the light. "Figured you should change too. Think this is safe to drink?" She said softly, smirking as his eyes caught the jar in her hand.

He grunted, taking the clothes and moving behind her to the bathroom to change. She laid her clothes out on the floor next to the fire to change, untying and combing her fingers through her wet hair, pondering how large the man who owned this shirt must have been. It swam on her like a dress, but the underwear was tight against her ass and the tops of her thighs. How strange.

The sight of Daryl in too tight sweat pants and a t-shirt emerging from the bathroom was enough to send her into a fit of giggles. He rolled his eyes and ignored her, laying his clothes out beside hers before joining her in front of the fire and carefully pulling out the can of beans.

They ate in silence, taking turns to shake some beans into their mouths, before opening up the jar of moonshine. Daryl tipped it to her, and she held it up to the fire before smiling at him.

"What," he rasped gruffly, shifting awkwardly under her smile.

"This is my first drink," she giggled, before taking a large gulp. Daryl snorted and chuckled loudly as she coughed and choked it down, eyes watering as she handed it back to him.

"Second one goes down better," he said wryly, taking a large sip of his own, without the coughing, which annoyed her.

Daryl handed her the jar back and she took another sip, smaller this time, enjoying the warmth she felt starting to pool in her belly. She closed her eyes and sighed as she handed it back to him, drinking in the warmth from the fire and the moonshine.

"You take the couch, I'll take the floor," he said firmly, waving her off as she tried to protest. "Ain't gonna sleep on a cushion while a woman's on the floor," he mumbled, pushing her arm towards the couch.

Beth sighed and shook her head, but the thought of sleep was calling to her, and she made her way over to lay on the couch. "Thank you, Daryl," she whispered softly, eyes drifting shut as sleep overtook her.

"Ain't nothin'," he mumbled, back towards her as he took another sip of moonshine and watched the flickering fire. He tried to ignore her as he settled to the floor and shut his eyes, letting the tiredness roll over him. But something about the tough little blonde behind him kept nagging at the back of his mind, and it was her face that he thought of last before falling asleep.

He woke with a start, sweat running down his back as he gripped his knife and turned around the room. Seeing no threats, he turned to take in Beth sleeping on the couch. She was shivering violently, her face pale in the dark, and as he reached out to touch her forehead he hissed jerking his hand back. She was cold as ice, her small body trembling, trying to get warm.

Daryl sighed heavily before gathering her up into his arms and bringing her over to rest in front of the fire, settling her before turning back to drag the couch close as he thought it should be to the flames. She still hadn't woken, and the sight of her small frame trembling and pale squeezed and tugged at his heart. Daryl scooped her back up and settled on the couch with her, wrapping her in his arms so the fire warmed her front and he was pressed flush up to her back. She sighed and snuggled into his arms, turning her face to rest her head on his bicep like a pillow.

Daryl tried to ignore the fluttery feeling holding her was causing in his chest, tried to ignore the sweet smell of her hair and how tiny she felt in his arms. Slowly her shivering slowed, and his breath caught when she stirred, rolling over to gaze sleepily up at him, head still resting on his arm.

"See? I'm not so bad," she whispered, eyes drifting shut and back to sleep as she curled into his chest, sliding her arm around his waist.

Daryl couldn't help but chuckle a bit in her hair, arms tightening of their own accord further around her. "Nope, guess not," he grumbled into her hair, inhaling once again the sweet scent of Beth before drifting back to sleep.