Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. The Walking Dead and all characters from the show are the property of their respective owners.

A/N: Slight variation from actual events from the show.

I actually wrote this back in April of this year, with hopes that I would turn it into a full length fic. Didn't happen. With the return of TWD & season V just around the corner I've decided to post this little semi-chapter – what was meant to be a prologue. Anyway, I'm kind of fond of it because Daryl, and maybe I'll be inspired to write more.

Summary: Beth is gone. She was ripped away from him and he was powerless to stop it from happening. Now Daryl has to overcome his feelings of guilt and failure if he's going to have any chance of finding her. Bethyl

Afterglow

I'd like to leave an afterglow of smiles when life is done

I'd like to leave an echo whispering down the ways,

Of happy times and laughing times and bright and sunny days

~ Anonymous

It was well before dawn when he awoke, his eyes opening to the pitch black of the factory loft that had been refuge for the night. Instinctively his right hand felt for the knife secured at his belt while the fingers of his left curled around the stock of his crossbow.

The temperature had dropped while he slept. It wasn't truly cold, but the chill in the concrete floor beneath him felt as though it had seeped right down into his bones. Add to that, his muscles were still aching, too. Daryl was one tough son-of-a-bitch, but he had pushed himself far beyond the point of exhaustion. He hated to admit it, but these past few days had taken a toll on him.

When he first lost her he had been in a state of total panic. Watching those taillights speed away from him as he called her name had been the single most frightening moment he had experienced since the world fell apart. Adrenalin kicked in, and he spent nearly two full days on the move, not sleeping, barely taking any time out to catch his breath. With every hour he spent following those damn-near non-existent tire tread marks, he felt her slipping further and further out of reach. Then it started raining, and all fuckin' hope was literally washed away. Still, he kept going. He couldn't accept that she was gone.

Gone. Just like the rest of 'um.

Here he was, still alive and breathing, not a walking corpse, yet he hadn't been able to protect her any more than all those people at the prison. He couldn't stop asking himself what good living was if he couldn't save the ones he cared for.

It was when he eventually collapsed to the ground at that railroad crossing that the heartache truly set in. He was sure his chest was going to cave in from the weight of it all. He had reached the breaking point.

Loosing Beth had destroyed a part of him that he had never known existed. Finding her was going to be the only thing that would ever put it back right.

Time to man up. Ain't gonna accomplish nothin' if ya don't get 'ur head on straight.

He took a deep cleansing breath.

The air held the sweet scent of mid-summer rain, and as his eyes adjusted to the absence of light he took stock of his surroundings. All was quiet, but for the soft drumming of rain on the metal roof above and the muffled sounds of those sleeping nearby. After a few moments he was able to make out the faint glow from the moon coming in through the dirty windows. It cast just enough light that he could make out the heavy door across the wide expanse of the room.

The urge to grab his gear and slip away before the others woke up was strong. He needed to get far and clear of these men before something bad went down. His senses told him it was coming, and soon. But leaving was also a matter of timing, and now was not the time. Being on one's own was dangerous. There were safety in numbers. At least, safety from the dead. Problem was, now-a-days the biggest threat came not from the walkers, but from those who were not yet dead.

Truth was, he needed a plan. And he didn't really have one yet. At least not one that would encompass everything that he had in mind. Mentally he ticked them off, one at a time.

First off, obviously, he needed to stay alive. Second, he needed an exit plan from Joe's marry group of redneck ass-holes. Thirdly, and most importantly, he needed a plan that would get him back to Beth.

She's alive and I'm gonna find her.

He kept telling himself that she was alive. That she was alive and out there somewhere, over and over again like a mantra. He had to, because that's what she would do if their roles were reversed.

Because that's what she would want me to do.

He had to believe she was alive. Had to believe for her. Because of her. It was all for her.

But it was torture. Every time he thought about her, every time he saw her face move like a shadow over his sight, he'd feel like a soda bottle being shaken 'till enough pressure built up for it to explode.

He'd think about how frightened she must be right now. And how she would be hoping he was alive, probably as worried and scared for him as she was for herself. Wondering if she would ever see him again, and hopeful that she would.

Always hopeful. Damn her and her faith that there was still some good left in this godforsaken world.

And at about that point he'd be so keyed up that he would be ready to turn to the closest member of this crew of miscreants and beat his head into the ground, crack his scull open, and keep going until there was nothing left but bits of crushed bone and splattered brain matter.

He knew he was making himself crazy. But he couldn't stop.

Even now, he could see her so clearly, her bright eyes shining, so full of confidence. The corners of her mouth would be just ever so slightly turned up, her face full of expectation. She seemed to always be waiting for him to do something, or say something, or feel something. And he did feel things, things he couldn't put to words. But she made him want to. She made him want to say things, tell her things, secret things he had never shared with anyone else. And what made all of it so damned uncomfortable was he knew that she knew that that was what he wanted to do.

And right now, in this moment, God only knew what she was going through while he lay here feeling about as useful as tits on a boar. Whoever had taken her had planned it out, lured those walkers to the front door to flush them out of the house. Then they waited to grab her.

He had no doubt that their plan probably included taking him out, killing him, whatever, if both he and Beth had made it out together. Not that they would have succeeded if it had played out like that. No way. They would be the ones dead, not him.

And I'd still be with her. She'd be safe. But I screwed up big-time.

There was a long list of reasons that she had been abducted, and they were all bad. Ugly, horrid images assaulted him every time he closed his eyes. And he swore that if even the slightest of the things he dreaded had been inflicted upon her he was going to rain unholy hell down on those responsible. They would pray for their end long before he'd let death take them.

fin~