Thank you to everyone who has favorited/followed and reviewed! I really didn't think this story would get so many followers so quick! I will be honest with you, seeing so many of you liking the story really fueled me to write chapter two so quickly. Please keep it coming, it makes me so very happy and I appreciate each and everyone of you. I hope you enjoy this chapter, it took me a couple of hours to write and beta. Oh, before I forget, if you're looking for Beth and Daryl to jump in bed and do the wild monkey dance anytime very soon, I hate to burst your bubble, it's going to be a somewhat slow build up to it since she's oblivious to him having feelings for her, and he's not yet so willing to make it public notice. Stick with me though, the pay off will be worth it!

As always, please leave me some love in the box on your way to the lobby, it honestly does help a writer get chapters out quicker!

Enjoy!


The morning sun drifted through the rough slats of the barn, bringing Beth slowly into consciousness. Stretching across the blankets; Beth's heart caught in her throat when the cold realization sunk in that she was alone. She started to hyperventilate; why would Daryl leave her by herself? Beth scrambled up from the blankets; crawling to the edge of the loft to peer down onto the dirt floor. One set of footprints littered the dirt, as if Daryl had never left. But that was his way, one set of tracks to confuse enemies into thinking there were smaller numbers on their side. Beside the footprints laid the bottom ten feet of the rope that hung from the rafters; even if Beth wanted to try and escape to chase after Daryl she would never make the fall to the ground without injury.

She began to pace the worn wood floor; her thoughts flitting around in her mind as her hands shook. After everything that had happened over the last twenty four hours; she was fragile, hot tears spilled down her cheeks staining the dirty floor. Pacing getting her nowhere fast, Beth sat down on a hay bale near the back corner of the barn, her head in her hands. Demons reached through the floor; their shadowy fingers caressing the shaft of her left combat boot, inching inside with deft finality. The specters swirled around Beth like ashes in a fire, consuming her like a firestorm. Her skin tingled as she reached into the boot; pulling out the tiny Bear Claw knife Carol had given her. It was smaller than the palm of Beth's hand but sharp as a razor blade. Carol had given it to her for personal protection; the knife with the fixed blade was smaller than three inches, easily missed by someone just looking at Beth. Carol knew what the world had become; she didn't want Beth becoming a victim. Now Carol was gone, along with so many others that Beth called family. Maggie and Glenn were gone, Daddy, Rick, Judith, Carl, for now lost until found. As far as Beth knew they could be dead and turned. That alone would break her heart; especially if she was the one to have to put them down.

Beth ran her fingers against the flat side of the blade, knowing full well the hands that had sharpened the blade made it a weapon for bloodshed. She knew the thread white scars on her wrist so very intimately; Daddy had glowered at her while he sewed them up back at the farm. Remembering what Merle had told her about severing his own hand; she knew there was no going back once she cut deep enough. She wasn't strong like him, and lacked the knowledge (as well as the resources) to tend the wound afterwards. Did she really want to attempt to tend the wound? Would it be another cry for help, or would it be the end of the nightmare?


Daryl had woken up shortly before the sunrise; finding Beth's ass cuddled up nice and cozy to his crotch. The closeness made him uncomfortable, for the simple reason that his body responded to the feminine curves the way it should. He didn't want her knowing that he'd had that kind of reaction to her being so close. He knew it was completely normal; but for it to be Beth, as much as he had feelings for her, he was still embarrassed. There was nearly two decades of age between them, and as much as that didn't matter in this world they lived in now, Daryl still held onto some of the old beliefs his Grandparents instilled in him. Daryl was sure that Beth would sleep for a good bit longer; his plan was to go find a vehicle to get on down the road with. What he didn't plan was for the rope to fray apart ten feet up; while it kept Beth safe from anyone getting to her, it also stranded her in the loft until he could figure something out to get her down. The bruise on his back ached from where the frame of the backpack cushioned his fall from four feet up. He could just imagine the bruise from the heat crawling up his spine, settling in the base of his skull.

Two miles out from the barn, Daryl stumbled upon a Kaiser Jeep that was mid-process of being restored in a barn. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief at the midnight blue truck, whistling before he realized the sound escaped him. The rubber looked good on the ancient truck; body was mostly finished through the restoration, the bed looked a little rough but could be dealt with. The interior was completely restored with two bucket seats; while it wouldn't be the most comfortable ride, it would get them wherever they needed to go. The truck had been converted over to diesel with dual 30 gallon tanks; diesel would be easier to get a hold of these days, everyone was looking for gas. Daryl lovingly ran his hand over the front fender of the '67, she was a workhorse of the Army, but the old girl was built for war. Merle's first vehicle was a Kaiser in worse shape than this one; Merle had taught Daryl to drive on it before he left for the Army, Daryl had been barely able to reach the pedals to shift the truck then. He'd gotten it after Merle ended up in jail; finishing the rest of what needed done to make it more road worthy at age 14. He'd spent hours picking the truck apart to learn every piece of it.

Daryl popped the hood latch to find the battery cables lying loose in the engine compartment. The owner must have thought that someone seeing that would leave the vehicle alone and walk away. Not Daryl; he knew the old truck inside and out. Grabbing a wrench off the front floorboard; he bolted the hotwire back onto the starter and the ground onto the frame of the truck. Neither of the batteries was under the hood; this would be what would kill the high. Daryl scrounged through the barn, finding one battery he robbed out of the old '60 560 Farmall in the next shop bay.

He huffed out loud, "Goddamn it, there's got to be something else around here that will work somewhere, I'll be damned if I'm leaving this here to rot away!" Daryl threw a toolbox of tools in the bed of the truck next to his backpack and crossbow. Armed with just his Glock and a wrench; Daryl snuck out the door of the shop scanning the barn lot as well as the fields. Off in the distance by the road he spied an old Gleaner K combine parked in the field. "There we go. If she's got a good battery we're in business." As much as he wanted to run the distance, he needed to conserve his energy for carrying the battery back to the truck. Walking through the barn lot up the lane, Daryl caught a glimpse of a rusted above ground fuel tank.

Loping up to the tank, Daryl pulled the handle off the latch, the solid heavy scent of diesel fuel assaulting his nostrils. Tapping the tank with his wrench, Daryl found it half full. 60 gallons of diesel was his for the taking, "Thank God for farmers." he breathed out into the morning heat. The combine was just about 1/4th of a mile away, sitting like a beacon in the fall grass. Coming around the front side of the Gleaner Daryl looked up into the cab; seeing the farmer slumped over the steering wheel, dead from a self inflicted gunshot wound from the shotgun propped up against the glass. Daryl snorted walking around the other side, popping open the battery. The contacts were clean, the battery looked fairly new as Daryl unbolted it before tucking it under his arm.

Daryl broke into a run heading for the barn, the smirk on his face clear as day. Throwing the hood up on the Kaiser he dropped the batteries into the guts of the truck, hoping beyond hope that the engine turned over as he finished turning the bolt on the last battery contact. He hopped in the driver's seat, stomping the clutch to the floor as he dropped it in first gear. The engine growled low, eliciting a string of pleasantries from Daryl begging the old girl to fire up. "Come on baby, you can do it! Come on!" On the third try of priming the fuel filter the truck roared to life, the sound deafening inside the small barn. "Alright! That's a good girl Molly!" Daryl burst out laughing as the truck lurched out of the barn towards the fuel tank. It was proving to be a better day than yesterday; that was for sure. All that was needed to do now was fuel up the truck and go rescue Beth from the barn loft.


Silent tears streaked down Beth's cheeks as she lay on the cold floor of the loft; watching the bright red blood oozing onto the floor from her wrist. The puddle was gathering in size, the blood running in little rivers down the cracks in the wood. She thought about her mama and daddy, they would be waiting for her with open arms on the other side. Jimmy would be there, waiting with an awkward kiss just like they had shared in the barn before the herd came through. Beth began to cry in choking sobs as she heard a rumble coming in the distance. This was it, this was the end- the walkers would tear the barn down to get to her. The smell of blood drove them to frenzy, much like piranhas in a fish tank smelling chum above the water.


Daryl pulled the truck into the barn; the broken piece of rope swishing over the top of the truck. Shutting the truck off and kicking the door open, Daryl didn't hear Beth up in the loft. His protective instinct kicked in hard as climbed up to the roof of the truck; grabbing onto the rope and shimmying up as quick as his muscles would let him. His eyes adjusted to the darkness; Beth was lying on her side near the corner of the barn.

Daryl ran over to her; his footsteps shaking the aged wood that creaked loudly. He scooped her up in his arms; oblivious to the blood puddle on the floor. Beth's head lolled onto his chest; it was then that Daryl caught sight of the crimson against her pale skin, his heart stopping in his chest.

"Jesus fuck girl! Why'd ya go and do a fool thing like that to yourself? You can't do this to me right now; we gotta get out of here before the walkers come down on us!" Daryl gave her a rough shake, but Beth wasn't having anything to do with opening her eyes. He scooped up the tiny knife, tucking it into his vest pocket for safe keeping. Time was not on his side at the moment, right now he needed to get the blood stopped and her down to the truck. Daryl pulled the red rag out of his back pocket, tying it tight around her slim wrist.

"Well baby girl, this is gonna have to do for now till I can get us somewhere safe and tend it right. You sure ain't making my life any easier right now. You best be thankful I like ya, or I'd be leaving your ass here for doing something so fucking foolish!" Anger began to seethe into his bones; he couldn't understand why she would do something like this to herself, leaving him alone. The problem at hand was getting her down to the truck; there was no way in hell he could get them both down at the same time safely. It was at least a six to eight foot drop to the top of the truck form the loft floor; lowering her down by his arms was not an option. He threw the blankets into the bed of the truck; if things went to shit they would at least have something soft to land on.

In the end Daryl tied the original rope around her waist, effectively making her dead weight. He figured he could climb down after lowering Beth down; drop down past her, cut the rope around her waist and *hopefully* catch her. It was worth a shot, time was not on their side.

His eyes stayed trained on Beth's limp form as it swayed three feet above the top of the truck. The tension on the rope was tight as Daryl climbed down, his boots making a soft thud on the top of the truck. Daryl grabbed the length of rope in his hand; he had to time it right to be able to catch her with one hand/arm while cutting with the other. The weight started to burn in his bicep as he cut through the rope with her tiny knife. "Thank you Merle for making this sharp as fuck for her, don't think you meant for her to cut herself with it though." He pocketed the knife once more as the rope began to quickly fray; Daryl grunted as the rope snapped under her weight, taking them both down into the bed of the truck.

Daryl's lungs seized for air, the impact of becoming Beth's crash mat inflaming his back even more. "Well guess that worked. Better get ya in the truck and get on outta here." Wiggling out from underneath her, Daryl vaulted over the side of the truck and popped open the passenger side door, stuffing the blankets on the floorboard before he put Beth into the seat.

The truck roared to life once more; Daryl reached across Beth to lock her door, she was leaning hard on the metal and glass. He threw the diesel into reverse; kicking up a cloud of dust backing the truck out of the barn and heading down the lane towards the road.

Daryl rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger, unaware of his thumb finding purchase between his lips. It had been a long time since he'd quit biting his thumb. The road was clear in front of them; but his mind was on the woman lying in the front seat with him. He knew he needed to get her wrist taken care of, but he wasn't a seamstress by any means. What he knew to do was going to be the worst pain she would ever feel, and he hated himself for being the one to inflict it on her.


AN: Ok so I know that last part the mechanics of it was a bit sketchy, it surely didn't come out like I intended it to. But I had to get them out of the barn somehow! So if it's a little too out there for you I apologize, I'll try and keep it a bit more real from here on out. :O)