This is the first fanfic I've ever attempted, aaaaah. Just the first chapter, but please read and review? I'm curious to hear everyone's opinion on telling this in first person with alternating point of views. I wanted to show a different Beth. What she'd be like if she'd had to survive on her own for an extended period of time. Maybe more emotionally stunted? With Daryl being the somewhat stable one of the two. You'll probably get a glimpse of the groups living situation in the next chapter. I want to focus more on characters with less action so they've got a pretty sweet setup. If I get even one favorite/follow/review on this I'll be giddy enough to post more! Lol

Daryl

I knew this was a bad idea. Knew it before we even left camp. And now that I'm chasing this damn hysterical girl and her greyhound into the woods, I see I was right. Usually am about these things.

It's not the dog I'm worried about. He can hold his own in this world. Hell, he's probably the only reason she's survived this long. The girl is another story—idiot finds trouble more often than not.

"Lemon," I hiss. "Stop."

I know she hears me, because she glances back long enough to trip up on a protruding tree root. Doesn't slow her down for long though. She's scrambling to her feet just as I catch up, and my outstretched hand grazes the back of her t-shirt as she bounds forward.

Makes no sense. Girl's got a knack for running, not fighting. She doesn't even kill walkers. She avoids them. That's why she had no business charging into the unknown after we heard the scream. And yet here we are.

I hear a ruckus ahead, and I know we're getting closer. A few walker moans, but worse than that, the undeniable sound of a fight. Sounds like someone just got socked in the jaw. It's followed by a grunt, and I decide it must've been the gut.

The dog, Duke, lurches into a clearing ahead and moments later I hear his low growl. Lemon stops in her tracks. A growl from Duke is never good, means whatever we're dealing with isn't pretty. I'd concluded as much though, so I continue onward, slowing my pace as I near the tree line, careful not to give away my position by disturbing any of the brush.

I stop when I catch my first glimpse of the group. Everything slows down for a moment. Duke is making a wide circle around them, ready to lurch. The scream we heard has drawn a few walkers out. They're slow and weak, but they're making their way to the tussle.

With a glance, I take quick note of everything that's happening. There are two men. One with a rifle on his back, and another with a handgun, still holstered on his belt. There's a crossbow on the ground, carelessly tossed aside. They're both preoccupied by the girl between them.

She has her knife out, constantly pivoting as she defends herself against their advances. Her shirt is torn open at the front, and there's a bloody cut above her eyebrow. She's covered in so much soot it's hard to make anything else out.

I feel a hot rage rise through my middle. Two grown men. Coulda taken her down by now. They're toying with her though. Assholes.

One of the men steps forward and she moves quickly, kicking him just below the knee, knife raised and ready to strike. The man with the pistol laughs as he comes up behind her and takes hold of her right wrist, planting his other hand in her hair. He yanks her back hard, and I step into the clearing, fully intending to send both of these assholes straight to hell.

Before I can fire off a shot, everything starts happening at once. He fails to secure her left arm, and she jams her elbow into his gut, slamming her foot down on his instep at the same time. Duke lunges at the man with the rifle as he attempts to get control of the attacking girl. He bites down on his leg, just above the ankle, snarling and shaking his head back and forth with such power the man is pulled to the ground. He cries out, and I know the dog is getting ligament.

Duke lets go and latches onto his shoulder when he makes a move for his gun. A couple of walkers are closing in on the dog, so I fire a bolt through the eye socket of the closest before reloading and doing the same with the second. I take quick note of the others, all too far away to be immediate threats.

The man and the girl are on the ground now. He gets hold of both her arms, but she rears back and slams her forehead against his, hard. It stuns him for a moment, and his grip loosens enough for her to wiggle free. With lightning quick speed she jams her blade into his right knee.

At the same time, the second man is getting a hand on his rifle, but I put a bolt through the side of his head before he gets the chance to raise it. The man and the woman are wrestling for control as he reaches for his weapon.

I go for my pistol, but Duke is sinking his teeth into the back of his neck before I even get a hand on my holster. It gives the girl enough time to scramble across the ground and get a hand on the discarded crossbow. His hands are on the gun now, but a bolt hits him square in the chest before he can draw on her. Her bolt.

And just like that it's over.

She's left on the ground with Duke, her ragged breaths even louder than the moans of the slow approaching walkers. I'm only a few yards away now, but she's seems oblivious to the rest of the world. Something brushes against my arm, and I realize it's Lemon.

We watch in silence as the girl holds a hand out to the dog. After a hesitant moment, he approaches. She pats him on the head once and says, "I owe you a squirrel."

And then she promptly passes out.

Lemon flies past me all of the sudden. "Come on!" She looks back at me, eyes wide and wild. "We have to get her out of here! The walkers."

I swing my Horton over my shoulder and nod, closing the remaining distance in a few big strides. I nudge my head at the crossbow beside the girl's hand. "Grab it."

Lemon obeys, and I hoist the girl into my arms. Walkers are coming from all sides now, but there's not much I can do without freeing my hands—ain't doing that though. I just watched this girl fight for her life, no chance in hell I'm gonna lay her back down to die. Instead, I let Lemon and Duke take the lead, following as they weave their way through the stumbling corpses, trying to ignore the weird fluttering in my stomach as we run.

When we get her back to the store we're using as temporary camp, I lay her on one of the sleeping bags spread out on the floor. Lemon starts breezing around the room as she gathers up a few bottles of water and a some towels. I stand by the door, feeling uncertain. I'd hoped Michonne would be back from her run by now. Ain't neither of us good at this kind of thing, but she'd be better help than me.

Eventually I sink to my knees beside the girl and watch Lemon work. She soaks one of the rags with water and starts wiping the blood and muck from the girl's face.

It's the first chance I've had to actually look at her since that first glimpse in the woods and my mouth goes dry. My throat gets tight. I blink hard, twice. Shut my eyes tight and open them when that doesn't do the trick.

What I'm seeing—who I'm seeing— it simply isn't possible. I knew I'd never see her again when the group moved on from Atlanta. I'd accepted it. It'd hurt like hell, but I came to terms. She was lost. Gone. And that's why she can't be here now. Not two states away from Georgia in the hills of North Carolina. Not right in front of my eyes. Just can't be. Must be seeing things again.

Just when I've convinced myself I'm out of my damn mind, her blue eyes flutter open and she blinks a few times. Even that small amount of movement looks weak, like she might lose consciousness again.

I lean over her and take her head in my hands. It takes me a moment to speak, and when I do my voice shakes. "Beth?"

"Beth," I say her name again, the sound of blood rushing through my ears. "It's me Daryl."

"Hey." The corner of her mouth tilts up. "Guess you finally made it out of Georgia," she says, her voice barely even there, before she passes out again.

I'm overcome with emotion as I pull her up, hauling her into my lap as I hold her against my chest. I know I need to let go so Lemon can tend to her, but I can't. I can't let her go. I tried that once. Five hundred and eight days ago when I lost her. Five hundred and eight days. Not doing that again. Ain't ever gonna go another day without her.

Beth

When I come to, I open my eyes slowly. Everything is fuzzy and seems far away. I think I might be dreaming. The room is dark and cool, but I'm on something soft. Something unfamiliar. More alarming that that, I'm next to something warm—or rather someone.

I turn over slowly, every achy muscle in my body protesting until I make it onto my side. My head feels weird. I decide I might be hallucinating—seems most likely. Especially now that I see the warm someone that's next to me. It's hard to make out much in the moonlight filtering through the windows, but I can tell he's awake, laying on his side and watching me with a strange expression on his face. Like he thinks he might be hallucinating too.

"Daryl?" my voice cracks as I struggle to get the word out.

He sits up suddenly and reaches for something. Moments later he's holding the brim of a bottle to my lips. "Drink."

I lift up a little and take a few slow sips before lowering back down.

He puts a gentle hand on the back of my head to stop me. "More," he coaxes.

I take another drink, but it makes me feel dizzy so I shake my head. He must understand, because he sets the bottle aside. He scrubs his hands over his face a few times, looking unsure of himself. After a hesitant moment, he lowers himself back down.

We're on our sides, facing one another. Not close enough to touch, but I can feel his body warmth. It's nice. We stay that way for awhile.

"Is this a dream?" I finally ask.

He shakes his head. He looks like he wants to reach out and touch me, but makes no move. I wish he would. There's a knot in my chest that's making me feel off balance, like maybe I'm about to come apart at the seams.

The weird haze clouding my thoughts is making me feel like I'm floating. In a bad, dizzy way. "Am I dead?"

"No, you're safe." He swallows hard. "Do you remember yesterday? The woods?"

I think hard for a moment, and a few snippets come back. The two men. The fighting. I remember the fighting. Thinking I was gonna die. The dog that came out of nowhere. I remember the men most though. Remember them ripping my shirt open and the feel of their grimy hands on my skin. Remember everything they said they were gonna do me. Remember wanting to die before any of it happened.

"No," I lie even though it doesn't help the hollow that seems to be swallowing me whole. "I don't remember."

"You probably have a concussion," someone across the room says. I think I've heard her voice before, but I don't think on it too hard.

I nod, not bothering to acknowledge the fact that I shouldn't be sleeping if I do, because I don't really care.

Daryl reaches out and touches my shoulder. "You should rest."

My eyelids do feel heavy, but I fight to keep them open. I have questions I need to ask, but all I can manage is, "You find them?"

"Yeah." He sounds sad. "Glenn, Maggie, Rick, Carl, Sasha, Tyreese. Judith. Michonne too. She's outside, keepin' watch. I can take you to the rest tomorrow."

Everything feels like it's unraveling around me. I don't know what to say. Don't even know what I feel.

"You been with any others?" he asks. "Have camp? Anyone else?"

"No," I say, my voice barely a whisper. "It's just been me."

My own admission feels like it breaks me in half. I say it again. "It's just been me. I've been alone."

He watches as I fall apart. I don't want to let him see me cry, but everything suddenly feels heavy. He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me to him as the first tear falls over my lash line. I burrow my head into his chest, and I cry. I cry until I'm exhausted. I cry until I fall asleep.