Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead.

A/N: Though I'm super flattered when asked, but I generally try not to turn one-shots into multi-chapters just because I'm a complete loser when it comes to updating quickly, and before I know it it's been months and it all goes haywire. So I hope my little one-shots are worth it anyways I hope you enjoy.

It all started in the horse stables. Sixteen-year-old Beth Greene's eyes flared with fury, anger coursing through her system at the man in front of her. Daryl Dixon was supposed to be intimidating. All that cross-bow skill, the quick redneck temper, and deep emotional baggage? Oh yeah, he was supposed to be intimidating. Nobody messed with him, let alone yelled at him, until that little blonde figure came marching up to him in the stables.

"Look, Daryl is it? I don't know who you think you are, but that is my horse, you got it? I know you're on some mission to find that little girl and that is all well and valiant and brave or whatever, but that is my horse. You're lucky she came back at all! I've had Nelly since I was a little girl, and if you ever cross that line with me again, so help me I will get my daddy to throw you and your fancy crossbow and your bad-boy motorcycle off our land!" By the time she was finished, her cheeks were pink as could be, her finger was just a few inches from his face after wagging it, and her neck was craning to see up to his face.

"Okay," he said, turning around. He walked toward the house, leaving her bewildered.

"Okay!?" she shouted after him.

"Okay!" he called back over his shoulder, calmly. She stamped her foot into the dirt. She expected more of a fight. She turned to her horse, frustrated.

"Well okay," she said.


They sat on the hay across from each other, backs up against opposite stalls. Neither remembered when they started coming here, but whenever it was, it was a while ago. Beth's usually dainty and bare wrists were covered in thick, white gauze.

"I don't get it, Daryl."

"What don't you get?"

"Daddy! He's really mad at me. He acts like I tried to kill him, not myself."

"Well what do you expect?"

"I don't know… anything? A sign? A glimpse that he still cares?"

"Don't you think that by bein mad, he does care? I mean, he don't just ignore it."

"Your daddy ignore you?"

"Beth," he said warningly.

"Sorry, sorry. Alright. You're right."

"You notice all our talks end up with you sayin that?"

"Shut up, Dixon…"


"Maggie accused me of having a crush on you today."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Do ya?"

"Oh come on!"

"I mean it!"

"No, I don't. Not like I'd tell you anyway."

"Yeah you would."

"No I wouldn't!"

"You tell me everything."

"Not that!"

"You would."

"No I wouldn't."

"Daryl, I think I got a crush on Daryl. He's just so dreamy. Whatever should I do?"

"I don't talk like that."

"Yeah you do, short round."

"I don't tell you everything, and I wouldn't tell you that."

"You'd come and bitch about it like everything else!"

"Why do I hang out with you?"

"Cause there ain't nothing else to do in this damn farm."

"You should take me hunting."

"Your dad would kill me."

"Someday I'll be eighteen and I'll be able to do whatever I want."

"Sorry to break it to you, Beth, but eighteen don't mean shit anymore."

"Let me dream."

"Okay."


"He's so infuriating!"

"I coulda told you that."

"He acts like we're out here fucking every night!"

"The minute I think I got you figured out, you start throwin' words like that out there."

"I mean, we're in a horse stall! What kind of standards does he think I have- screwin in a horse stall? Like I'd cheat on him!"

"Well there is plenty of room."

"Can you not? This is serious!"

"No it ain't. Jimmy and you ain't been serious since the day you stopped talkin' about him. Except this is the end-of-the-world, and break-up letters don't exist no more."

"Break up letters? How old are you?"

"Fine don't listen to me," he grumbled.

"I am listenin. I just don't get it. I mean what's he got to be intimidated by?"

"Hey!"

"I mean you're old,"

"Sittin' right here."

"You smell,"

"I took a bath last week!"

"You're grumpy,"

"I ain't no seven dwarf,"

"I mean what's he gotta be jealous of?"

"Well you're here, ain't you?"

"You're right."

"I know."


"I've been thinkin', Daryl."

"About?"

"You,"

"Why?"

"I never expected to meet somebody like you when your group came along."

"Like what?"

"I dunno. I didn't expect to meet my best friend when y'all got here."

"Your best friend, huh?"

"Mhm."

"Hmm."

"Don't 'hmm' me."

"What do ya want me to say?"

"You know what," she said, grinning.

"Yeah, you're mine too."

"That's what I thought."


"I miss our stall," she whispered. They hadn't had a home in months. Lori was getting bigger than a house, and they had been on the road a while.

"Me too."

"Think Nelly is dead?"

"No," he answered.

"Liar."

"Yeah."

"Remember when I was shoutin' at you about her?"

"How could I forget?"

"You were so unaffected."

"You ain't scary."

"Take that back!"

"Nope."

"Jerk."

"Mhm."

"Do you think we'll die before we find another home?"

"Maybe."

"That's comforting…"

"You called me a liar before!"

"Didn't mean I wanted you to stop lyin'."

"I don't get you."

"Yeah, I know."


"I think this prison's gonna be good for us," she said. He sat at the foot of her bed, watching her hang pointless items on her cell wall.

"It's big enough," he said.

"I don't just mean like that. I mean… I can feel it, you know? I can feel it's gonna be good."

"Mm."

"You're talkative tonight," she remarked.

"Don't know how I feel about the whole thing yet."

"You're not excited to have a place to be? You ain't even unpacked yet, Daryl."

"Don't wanna."

"Don't wanna or afraid to?"

"When did you start getting right?" he asked.

"Since I turned eighteen."

"Your birthday? When?"

"Well I don't know for sure, but it's around now. It's getting darker earlier. My birthday was in late fall."

"Was?"

"Well, I mean, birthdays are kinda useless now, Daryl. You told me that, remember? Eighteen don't mean shit now?"

"Happy Birthday."

"Thank you."


"I wish Zack wasn't dead," she whispered. She stretched out on her prison-cell bed, her feet resting on his lap.

"Me too."

"I miss him."

"Me too."

"Think you could stay in here tonight?"

"Your daddy will love that."

"On the floor, Daryl."

"Oh. Yeah."

"I'm glad I didn't say goodbye. I hate goodbyes."

"Me too."

"Promise me something?"

"Anythin."

"When I die-,"

"Don't…"

"When I die, keep goin. Find another friend who bitches to you in a horse stall. Go sleep in Carol's cell or Rick's. When I die, you can't go with me. You're too good a friend to just take with me to the grave. It's damn selfish."

"You're confusin."

"I didn't even say anything confusin!"

"You did."

"How?"

"Cause you ain't dyin."

"You're wrong."

"I'm never wrong."

"Shut up and go to sleep," she said, throwing a pillow and an extra blanket on the ground. He made himself comfortable on the ground.

"You ain't dyin cause you're my best friend, and you ain't dyin, and that's it."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay!"

"Goodnight, Greene."

"Night, Daryl."

A/N: Kay, no idea where that came from but it's two in the morning and I have school tomorrow but I needed to write it. I'd love to hear what you think!