Chapter Four

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Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. The story I tell about Daryl and Beth is my own invention, and it is not purported, or believed, to be part of the Walking Dead story canon. It is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.  

For my daughter, Mathilda LaFae, for being a constant source of inspiration to me since the day she came into the world.

Chapter Four

"See ya had yerself some company last night." Abraham said, nodding toward the dead walkers lying in the yard, both with bolts sticking up out of their heads. Beth barely remembered Daryl waking up to dispatch the two wanderers that came through their perimeter during the night. Right after the song, she must have fallen asleep. Daryl hadn't come to bed, and when the walker's had woken them up, she'd seen him slumped against the cabinet, dozing, before he'd darted into action, telling her stay put.  

He was gone for less than a minute. When he returned, he told her he was going to stay outside and keep watch. Told her to go back to sleep. And she had. She'd slept, and had the most horrible nightmare, about Daryl getting bit, turning, and her having to put him down.  

Though she was standing in the full sunlight, she shivered remembering the dream.  

"Nothing we couldn't handle." Daryl answered, quickly collecting his bolts from the walker's skulls.  

Abraham laughed, "No doubt. Let me help you get 'em into the pile."  

Rosita walked up to Beth while she was watching the men dispose of the corpses. She was holding a small stack of clothes. "Here," she said, "I think we're about the same size."  

"Wow," Beth said, "are you sure?"  

Rosita nodded and handed her the clothes. Beth liked the girl's smile. She seemed amused by Beth's wonderment over the clothing. "Yeah, I'm sure, they're yours. No offense, but you look like you could use a bath too."  

Beth hadn't even thought about the fact that she had been wearing the same clothes for a couple days in a row. She looked down at herself. She was dirty, blood-spattered, and she knew she'd sweated up a storm yesterday. Her hair was probably starting to look like a rats nest. She suddenly felt self-conscious and put her hand up to her hair, trying to run her fingers through it without much success. The other girl must have noticed because she held up a finger, before turning back to the truck and disappearing behind it. Beth nodded at Eugene who was reclining against the front of the truck reading a comic book.  

Rosita came back, holding a silver rectangular shaped box. "You can have it. We raided a department store a few months back, and I found a whole case of these babies."  

Beth took the box, and opened it up. Inside there was a fancy brush, a comb, a compact mirror, and a toothbrush, all silver. There was also a travel sized tube of tooth paste. "Thank you." Beth said, looking up to meet the girl's chestnut brown eyes.  

Rosita waved it off. "Maybe we'll hit a town, or two, on our way to this place your friend is taking us. I sure wouldn't mind some new outfits." She pinched the fabric of her camo pants.  

"So you're coming along?"  

"Sounds like it."  

Beth raised her eyebrows. "Can I ask why?"  

Rosita shrugged. "Abraham. He says we're stronger with you, than without even if we have to wait."  

"Well, that makes some sense."  

The girl nodded slowly. "I just hope your boy was telling the truth."  

Beth didn't know if Daryl could necessarily be labeled as her 'boy,' but she secretly thrilled at Rosita calling him that. "Daryl's a man of his word."  

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