A/N: Everyone's reviews were so much fun to read after the last few chapters… lots of ideas as to the direction I'm taking this thing, and many, many compliments. A couple of you were sick, and I hope you're feeling better! Illness over the holidays sucks. Although, my husband has the flu currently, and he's no fun, so we've just been hanging out and relaxing… therefore, you have the influenza to thank for all the Bethyl chapters! Anyway, as always, thanks so much for all of the reviews, the favorites, the follows, and the love!

I'm going to dedicate this particular chapter to a friend of mine. He will remain unnamed for personal reasons and I'd rather not end up on some kind of crazy radar, but he has been following the story and he knows who he is. He's exactly the type of guy to rush in and save a damsel in distress, as he has done many times over the years. I'm a super huge fan, and I've appreciated our 14 years of weird dreams, random conversations, extensive over-sharing, quirky obsessions, embarrassing secrets, and ridiculousness. So, here's to you, J. You're the best.

I really, really, really hope I hit the nail on the head with this chapter. I wanted it to be… well, I guess if I reach my goal of what I want to accomplish with this chapter, you'll all let me know, right? Let it begin!

Enjoy ;)

Chapter 12

For the two nights after Carol and Sophie had left and gone back home to be with Ed, Beth's cabin seemed more quiet than before; the rooms seemed bigger and emptier, and the evenings lonely. She'd never been a terribly dependent person, always having enjoyed solitude and her own space; but she hadn't lived with anyone since college, except for a small stint of time when Zach had taken to staying in her apartment a lot, and she'd nearly forgotten what it was like to have someone to chat with over dinner.

The silence wasn't uncomfortable; it was all of the chatter going on her in head that was driving her crazy. It had only been three days since Beth had run into Daryl in the grocery store while she and Carol were picking up ingredients for their Saturday night dinner. She hadn't known, until she'd run into him, that she was harboring such hurt from their argument on Halloween. As soon as she'd seen him, her heart had leapt into her chest, and her stomach did summersaults. For a moment, her stupid body had forgotten than he wasn't hers to be excited to see anymore; he'd practically banished her out of his life out of some sort of ridiculous notion of protecting her from himself. So when reality had come crashing down and her heart caught up with the truth of the situation, she'd felt wounded, and a rush of anger had caught her by surprise.

The words she'd said to him echoed in her memory, but what hurt the most was the look on his face after she'd said what she did. Daryl, the man with the strength to endure a lifetime of pain at the hands of his father, who trudged to her doorstep after hours of being outside in the freezing cold with a concussion, who'd endured the scorn of random strangers from town on a daily basis and didn't act like he cared one bit; that Daryl had flinched at her mean-spirited words and looked at her with such a destroyed expression that she felt as bad as if she'd kicked a puppy.

He was stubborn and ridiculous, that much she was certain of. However, he obviously didn't know how to react when faced with something as simple as kindness, and lashing out at him certainly wasn't going to help. Beth had always prided herself on how level-headed she was; so unlike her sister Maggie who was quick-tempered and not afraid to speak her mind whether it offended or not. Usually, Beth was the patient, caring one; the one who brought home strays and listened to Maggie rant for twenty solid minutes about how much she hated other drivers, the one who didn't make a stink when someone stole a parking spot she had been waiting on, or brought her the wrong food at a restaurant.

But there was just something about Daryl Dixon that got under her skin and drove her to the brink of her nerves. She'd given him so many opportunities to open up to her more, to form a stronger bond, to get to know each other. Each and every time, he backed out of range and scampered off, though.

The frustrating part was knowing that Daryl had feelings for her. She could see it on his face at times, when his guard dropped ever so slightly, and he had her pinned with his hunter's eyes. She could tell that he had things he wanted to say to her; thoughts that raced through his head, but that were never voiced or communicated. She felt like there was a whole person locked away in there behind those eyes of his, just needing to be broken out of his self-induced cage.

The problem with that was, like anything else, only Daryl held the key to his own freedom. She couldn't force him to want to be cared about; she couldn't bully him into being her friend. She had to just give him time and let him work through his own demons, his own way.

However, that would involve more tact on her part, and she knew she shouldn't have lashed out at him with her temper the other day. That was no way to present him with the opportunity to open up to her. Acting the way she had, she'd only lose him as he drew deeper into himself.

Beth was brought out of her musings by a knock at the front door. The sun had long since gone down, and as she stood up, she glanced at the clock on her stove; 10 o'clock p.m.

Her heart began to race. It was Carol, it had to be. No one else would come to her cabin so late at night without a phone call; and she was pretty sure that after Saturday afternoon, Daryl in particular wouldn't be coming to her cabin ever again.

A thousand terrible scenarios ran through her head as she jogged across her front room to get the door, and none of them were pretty. Carol had insisted that even at his most angry, Ed had never laid a hand on Sophia; Beth could only hope that hadn't changed.

She unlocked the deadbolt and swung the door wide open, momentarily taken aback when she realized that the figure standing on her welcome mat was a man.

The smell of his cologne is what hit her first- the tangy, spicy scent of Kenneth Cole. In an instant, she was transported back to Chicago, to a masculine well-decorated apartment on the 16th floor with a black leather couch, dark stained concrete countertops, and an entire kitchen cabinet dedicated to an assortment of top-shelf bottles of liquor.

Rather than taking her on a stroll through memory lane, though, the cologne sent her scrambling down the dark, seedy back-alleys of the past; a place she thought she'd left behind forever.

Beth looked up into the face of the man standing patiently with one arm leaned on her door jam. His jaw was clean-shaven and chiseled, and his hair wavy and messy, but in a windblown way that looked like he'd just stepped off of the beach. His full lips were curled up in a familiar smile, and his light brown eyes twinkled at her as they watched her take him all in. To anyone else, he probably looked charmingly handsome; the boy next door, with his golden-tipped hair and dimpled cheeks.

Beth felt more like she'd been doused in cold gasoline and he was holding a lighter.

"Zach," she whispered; her voice small and barely audible. Her throat had constricted in fear, and she felt a shudder run through her.

Here. He was here. On her doorstep.

She jerked out of her daze and grabbed her door, trying to slam it closed between them, but he was faster. He launched himself off of the door frame and rammed his shoulder into her door, knocking it out of her grip and sending it crashing into the wall. He grabbed her shoulder, pushing his thumb into the junction between her collarbone and her throat as he entered her house and slammed the door behind him with his foot.

"That's no way to treat an old friend, is it Bethy?" he crooned at her.

"We're not friends," she hissed at him, feeling the burn of tears in the backs of her eyes.

How had he found her? Nothing was in her name, not the cabin or the utilities; she'd sold her car. There was nothing left of her to find down here. Yet, here he stood, like a nightmare summoned to drag her back into the depths of hell with him.

"We were more than that once, though, don't you remember?" he asked, smiling at her. His kind demeanor was more terrifying to her than if he'd been angry.

She felt her skin crawling at the contact of his skin against hers, so she jerked away from him, removing his hand from her shoulder. He let her, only looking away for a second so that he could bolt her door, before looking back at her with that insane smile, like he was so, so happy to see her.

"What do you want, Zach?" she asked, surprised at how brave her voice sounded; she felt like she was on the verge of pissing herself.

"Can't I just want to see you?" he asked, faking a hurt tone in his voice. "Isn't it nice that I just wanted to come and see how you were doing? After all, you left Chicago so suddenly. No phone call, not even a letter. I was pretty hurt, Bethy. Pretty hurt."

He took a few slow steps, like he was circling prey, herding her away from the door; away from the exit and the possibility of escaping him. He kept his eyes on her, and though he had a smile on his face, his brown eyes were so light and feverish that they seemed almost yellow; they looked hungry.

Reaching into a pocket inside of his jacket, Zach slowly pulled out a folded white envelope that looked like it had been handled quite a bit. It was crinkled and worn in places like it had been folded and unfolded a hundred times. She looked back at him as she stepped backwards; she took a step back, he took a step forward, remaining within reaching distance. Cat and mouse.

Predator and prey.

The psycho and his victim.

"I was shocked when I found this, though," he told her, not breaking eye contact. "Do you know what this is?"

Beth stayed frozen, trying not to move too quickly, lest he leap at her like a fox after a rabbit. She didn't bother to shake her head. He didn't care if she answered; he'd tell her anyway. It was part of his game.

"Your last paycheck," he said, and Beth felt her blood run cold. Of course. He'd been checking her mailbox the whole time she was gone, keeping an eye out for anything that might lead back to her. She'd bet her left leg that her new address was printed somewhere on that damn last check, even though they sent it to her Chicago apartment.

"You know what I find so strange about this?" he asked, waving the envelope in question back and forth near his face, slowly. "This job of yours supposedly meant so much to you. Remember?"

He stepped forward, she stepped back. She had to keep as much distance between them as possible until she could think of an exit strategy. Her brain was muddled with her fear, though, and her limbs felt like mush; her lungs were compressed from terror. She was on the verge of a panic attack, she could feel it. And even if she had the air in her lungs to scream with, it would have been useless. No one was around to hear her, and they both knew it.

"Do you remember how much you loved this job, Bethy?" he asked. "You loved it more than you loved me, that's for sure. This is what caused all of the fighting. All that anger and pain, just because you couldn't take a break and put me as a priority."

He kept speaking to her gently, calmly; shaking his head like he was sad at their turn of events. She imagined that he'd been waiting a long time for this, though. He was probably psychotically giddy on the inside at having such an opportunity to get back at her.

"You couldn't just love me the way I deserve to be loved," he whispered. "You couldn't be there for me; you were always working. Or out with your friends. Or calling home to your family. You never made time for me, Beth."

"I made time for you," she said, just as quietly. "I paid plenty of attention to you, before I realized how crazy you were. You tried alienating me from everyone that-"

"Alienating?!" he shouted suddenly, making her flinch. "Is that was being with me felt like to you? Alienating? We were supposed to be partners, Bethy. We were supposed to be each other's everything. You just wouldn't make enough room for me. And now you're going to stand here and accuse me of being alienating? Of being crazy?"

He sneered at her and flung the envelope at her face. It caught a current and whipped past her, spinning and fluttering to the ground.

"And yet, after all of that, after defending your job and refusing to be with me; choosing your work over ME!" he shouted, stepping toward her. "After all of that, you just… get fired? I guess your job wasn't as important to you down here, was it? Is there something else in this shithole that is more important to you than your job? More important than me?"

He took another step closer, and she stepped back, panicking as her butt pressed against the wall to her kitchen. She thought she'd been over to the left a couple more feet.

Taking his opportunity, Zach lunged forward, slamming both of his hands on the wall on either side of her head. "Answer me!" he screamed in her face.

The line she was toeing now was wire-thin. To admit that there was nothing more important would give him the wrong impression; it could send him the message that she did miss him. He was demented enough to really believe it. But to admit that there were more important things, like how she missed a few days here and there hanging out with new friends, selling her car, helping Daryl; that would just set him off.

"There's nothing more to it," she said, her traitorous tears blurring his face as she glared up at him. "I just got fired, okay? That's all there is to the story."

Still leaned on the wall in front of her with one hand, Zach reached his other one over and fingered the small tree pendant at her throat. He traced his finger up and down the delicate silver chain, causing her to tremble in disgust under his touch. The breath hitched in her throat as his eyes wandered over her.

"There's more to the story," he said thickly. "There's someone else, isn't there? Have you been unfaithful, Bethy?"

"We aren't together, Zach," she said slowly. "I'm not your Bethy anymore."

His eyes flicked up to hers and his hand ceased its movement, gently poised right over her throat. He smiled then, a cold, malicious twist of his lips, and he began running his thumb up and down the front of her neck, right under her chin.

She knew that this incident wouldn't be like the others; he wouldn't hit her a few times and then regret it. He wouldn't be remorseful or pitiful, or apologetic. Zach looked like he was genuinely enjoying himself; no temper, no alcohol. Just Zach and his revenge over his dead, broken heart.

Beth lunged to the left, breaking out of his grasp and clearing the wall so that she could make a run for the knife block in her kitchen. The flurry of motion set him off, though, and then there were no more games. He moved when she moved, and before she could get more than four steps into the kitchen, he'd grabbed her ponytail and jerked her off of her feet.

She fell backwards, throwing her arms out to catch herself on something, but only managing to knock a kitchen chair over after slamming her forearm into it. He directed a quick jab to her ribcage before she could scramble back out of his reach.

Beth gasped, but with the adrenaline surging through her veins, she hadn't quite felt the pain as much as the shock of realizing her worst nightmare becoming reality. She rushed under the table on all fours, knowing it was a ridiculous means of escaping, but beyond the point of truly rational thought.

Ever one for terrorizing, instead of heading around the table to cut her off, Zach followed her on all fours underneath, grabbing at her ankle as she cleared the table top and began running. Cut short, she fell back to her knees, but then lashed her other foot backwards, catching him in the nose. He yelled in pain, releasing her. She scrambled to her feet and grabbed a chair, swinging it at him as he emerged from under the table gripping his bloodied nose. The chair cracked on impact and a couple of pieces splintered off and went flying.

"Fucking BITCH!" he screamed, launching himself at her again. She managed to duck out of the way, running around to the front room again. She reached the front door, but the second it took her to pause and grab for the lock, he was on her. He tackled her and they both fell to the ground, where he proceeded to punch her a number of times. She used her free arm to swipe at him, and left four gouge marks in his face where her nails raked him. He fell off of her, clutching his cheek, his features twisted in an insane snarl.

She ran from him again, and as he was making another grab at her, she feinted left at her back door, but then ducked under his outstretched arms and scampered to the right, throwing herself into her bedroom. She slammed the door and pushed the lock button on the knob right as his weight collided into the wood from the other side.

"You can't hide in there forever, you little bitch!" he screamed at her as he rammed his body weight against the door. She ran to her bedroom window and began tugging on it, trying to get it open wide enough for her to slip through. If she could get a head start, she might be able to lose him in the woods.

But winter was upon them, and the evening frost had caused her window to stick. It wouldn't budge. Panicking, she ran around her room in a circle, trying to think, trying to figure out what to do. If he heard the glass breaking, he'd probably just circle around to the window and get in that way. Her only chance was holding him off and waiting for help.

She pulled her nightstand over and braced it in front of the door as she heard the wood of her trim beginning to crack; he was still kicking and shoving at her door like a lunatic. If she'd been in a modern house, the door probably would have already given way, and she was thankful that the cabin was sturdy; its doors thick and heavy.

She grabbed her house phone and dialed 911.

A female operator picked up after only one ring, "911, what's your emergency?"

"He found me," Beth blurted out, unable to form the necessary coherent words to tell the operator what was going on. There wasn't time. "I need you to send someone! He's trying to get into my bedroom right now!"

"What is your address?" the operator asked calmly.

After telling the operator where she lived, she took a moment to silently curse her old job for their outstanding up-to-date record-keeping. Then, the operator responded, "I have notified a unit and they're on their way. They'll be about 7 to 10 minutes. Stay on the phone with me, okay?"

That wasn't fast enough, Beth realized. They were going to be too late. In another ten minutes she'd just need a body bag, especially if Zach could hear what she was doing.

Without thinking about it, she slammed her hand down on the plunger of her ancient phone to disconnect her call with the 911 operator, and then swiftly dialed a number she shouldn't have known by heart, but did anyway. She'd dialed him a number of times after he'd left his business card with his cell phone number on it at the diner that one day, but she'd always hung up before the call connected. Daryl didn't even like talking to her in person half of the time; she knew he wouldn't want to converse with her over the phone at all.

It seemed to ring over and over again for an eternity. Meanwhile, Zach had lost his temper with her resistant door and was practically incoherent on the other side as he screamed and hit it with various objects from her living room.

Finally, she heard his voice come on the line. She inhaled in preparation to tell him everything, but all he said was "Daryl," which was followed by a short beep. It was his voicemail; he hadn't answered. She felt her stomach drop and tears began streaking paths down her face.

Regardless, she clung to her receiver like a lifeline and sobbed into the phone. "Daryl, I need you. He… he found me… I didn't know it was him, and I opened the door… he's in my house," she rambled, sobbing here and there. "He's going to kill me, Daryl, I can see it in his eyes... I need you. I need you so bad right now…" She felt so hopeless.

Brokenly, she whispered, "Daryl, please…"

She prayed he would see her missed call and dial her back, but there was nothing but silence on the other end. If Daryl wasn't there to hear her pleas, then she was as good as dead. The cops would never make it in time. This was it. She was going to die on the floor of her cabin in the middle of nowhere, with no one around to help her.

She laid her head on the wooden floor, dropping the phone next to her, and began to cry silently. She pressed her other hand over her ear to try and block out the terrible sounds of Zach doing his best to break through her door.

Finally, there was a loud snap as the wood around her lock cracked and broke, and the feet of her nightstand squealed along the wooden floor as Zach shoved the little table out of his way.

"No!" she yelled, knocking the receiver out of her way to try and get out of the other side of her bed. He grabbed her ankle and she screamed for the first time, her nails scoring the floorboards as he pulled her out from under the bed.

"You thought a door would stop me, you stupid fucking cunt!" he screamed at her, flinging her into the nightstand. She cried out as she toppled over it, landing on some of the broken glass from her bedside lamp. Clutching her injured arm to her side, she scrambled to her feet and ran into her living room. He caught her by the back of her shirt and used their momentum to swing her sideways like a rag doll. She collided with a glass bookshelf full of movies that she had standing next to her TV. It shattered under her weight, and she landed on her stomach in a shower of glass and DVD cases. She cried out as Zach's knee dug into her spine, the weight of his body pressing her down against the shards; she could feel them cutting her, and embedding in her skin.

"Get off of me!" she shrieked, trying to get her hands out from under her own body so she could lift herself up.

"That's no way to treat your long-lost lover, is it, Beth?!" he said coldly, pulling one of her own kitchen knives out from his belt. She screamed in equal parts terror and frustration, unable to get leverage underneath her to even try budging him.

He slid the knife under the waistband of her sweatpants, cutting a bit of her skin in the process, and then jerked the blade upward, slicing right through the fabric cord.

Suddenly, she realized what his intentions were, and she couldn't believe that she hadn't guessed them before. Sure, Zach was mad and hurt by her leaving him, and he wanted to make her pay. But he still thought he was in love with her, too, didn't he? Wasn't that the point of all of this? He was psychotic and just couldn't let go of her.

He intended to rape her before he killed her.

In the seconds she had frozen, he'd managed to tear her pants most of the way off of her. She felt him remove his knee from her spine, but he used one hand grip the back of her neck, and she heard the unmistakable jingling of him undoing his own belt.

She thrashed suddenly, causing his hand to slip from her neck. He managed to fist it in her hair, but she hauled her body sideways underneath his crouched position, not registering the strands of hair ripping from her scalp, as she swung her shin up and caught him right under his balls with it. She crawled away from him as he fell off of her, feeling the sting of glass slicing her exposed legs along the way. She grabbed the wrought iron log poker leaned next to her fireplace, and advanced on him with it.

Just as she swung it at him, though, Zach ducked, blindly lashing out at her with the knife he'd reclaimed. It made a slice along her abdomen, right across her belly button, and in the shock of the moment, Beth released the poker. It sailed through the air and crashed through her living room window.

The cold air came streaming in through the broken pane, as Beth fell onto the floor, clutching her bleeding stomach. She panicked that he'd gutted her, but was too afraid to look at it as she scooted backward away from him. He looked peaked and green from when she had kicked him, but his eyes were wild and he came at her again; bent on destroying her, like a Terminator from the movies.

Beth clenched her teeth and glared up at him as he sat down on her chest, pinning her to the floor. "You don't fucking get it!" he screamed at her as his hands went around her throat.

He shook her, slamming her skull back against the unforgiving floor.

She struggled under him, digging her nails into the flesh on his arms, unable to reach him anywhere else. She had no air, and even the veins underneath his hands pounded in the attempt to transport necessary blood to her brain. He was crushing her neck like an empty water bottle, she realized. At least in his rage, he'd make it quick before he remembered the rest of the plans he'd hatched for her.

As spots of color burst in her vision, she recalled the voice of the last man who'd said that very same thing to her.

"You don' fuckin' get it!" Daryl had shouted at her outside of the bar. Only, in his case, she did get it. He loathed his family, and by extension, himself. He thought he wasn't good enough for her, and that he wasn't worth her time or her smiles. She got it, alright; the reason he chased her away.

But now he'd never know. She'd never have the chance to make it right; or the chance to take back what she'd coldly said to him at the grocery store after he'd dropped his armor and shown his vulnerability over the bruise he found hiding on her face. She had kicked him when he was down, and it was one of the very last things she'd regret before she died.

Instead of the snarling face above her, Beth closed her eyes and focused on the shaggy-haired huntsman with the intelligent blue eyes and a penchant for making her want more of him. Her thoughts became thick and groggy, and she felt like she'd been pulled under the surface of a calm lake, suspended in the chilly waters.

She'd never get a chance to tell Daryl she was sorry, she realized sadly, and then she slipped away.

-The End-

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Holy shit, guys, I'm totally just kidding. I know, I know.. it wasn't funny. I'm sorry. There will be more, no worries.. Let me know what you guys thought of this particular chapter. Love it? Hate it?