Hang on to your booties; we're in for a bumpy ride.
The story will take on a quicker pace from here on out.
Let the fluffy times begin!

Take Me as I Am
Chapter 11
[Reunited]

Beth woke up with a startled gasp; sweat drenched her entire body and clothes. Her chest heaved as she tried to steady her shaky breaths. She had the same nightmare again… this time Randy was in it. She dreamt of his menacing, maniac face as he tried to strip her of her clothes. She felt his grimy fingers all over body, gripping at whatever he wanted.

Suddenly, the trunk of the car she found shelter in became too small for her liking. Her breathing increased rapidly instead of slowing down, as if her body couldn't get enough air. Fumbling with the rope tie, Beth yanked and pulled at the rope until the hatch popped up once it was released from its binds. She gasped deeply, letting the fresh air invade her lungs she slowly took in her surroundings.

She had almost lost hope when the walkers began pushing against the car last evening. She couldn't remember how long she had waited for them to pass on because eventually, she fell asleep clutching her knife to her chest. Now, as she surveyed the ghost town around her, not a soul as found—dead or alive. She couldn't hear the moans of walkers or Dooley's barks and growls.

Only the sound of the trees rustling in the wind and the birds chirping their songs filled her ears. If the world hadn't gone to hell, she would've enjoyed this moment… with Dooley, if he were here with her right now. She owed him for saving her, but she didn't know where he could be. Maybe, maybe she should go look for him.

Daryl.

Oh God, Daryl! She straightened up immediately at the thought of Daryl. She had been gone for over a day; the sun was already high up in the air. Chances are, Dooley probably outran the walkers—he had more smarts and survival instincts than some humans she knew. Right now, she needed to get the fever reducers back to Daryl, if he was still alive.

"No, he is alive!" she scolded herself for her negative thoughts.

There was only one dilemma though—her ankles. Her left ankle, the one that was injured by the trap, had a dull ache to it—she could manage as she did before. However, her right ankle is a different story. It throbbed when she didn't move it, which was manageable, but when she tried to put pressure on it, the sharp pain sent her head reeling.

Okay, not good. But… there is a solution. Sort of.

Beth rummaged through the blue duffel bag and pulled out the generic Tylenol bottle. She had taken these when her body ached from being thrown off her horse. It had worked well then, and certainly it could help her now. She knew though, that it wouldn't take all of the pain away—she will take whatever relief she can get at this point. She made it a quick task of swallowing two pills down with a gulp of water from her already opened bottle.

After storing all the contents back into the duffel bag and securing it, she strapped the bag her back. There was no time to waste. She maneuvered her legs to dangle out of the car and prepped herself to stand up. With a caution, she pushed herself out of the trunk and onto her feet.

The sharp pain almost sent her falling onto the concrete floor if not for her hands gripping the car—her nails scratching against the metallic surface. Her nostrils flared as she tried to calm herself with slow deep breaths through her nose. Her ankle hurt like a son of a buck—she couldn't give up though.

Bracing herself for more pain, she gingerly took another step, and then another with most of her weight pressed against the older model car. She was out of breath by the time she passed the driver's side door. Already exhausted, she turned to face the car and shifted her entire body weight onto it and off of her injured ankle. "What am I going to do?" she whispered to herself, worried.

She couldn't just camp in the trunk… she had to get back to Daryl. Sucking in another deep breath, Beth pushed herself off the car roughly, causing it to rock gently.

A jingling sound caught her attention. Beth titled her head and wondered if she was just hearing things. She pushed against the car again, this time with a little more force. Sure enough, something was jingling inside the car. She took a step closer to the driver's side door, and then peered into the window. Her bottom lip trembled with eagerness when she saw the car keys swinging from the ignition switch.

Oh please… oh please let this work! She closed her eyes and prayed briefly before opening the door as quietly as she could after she made sure no walkers were in there. She limped around the door and slide into the hot leather driver's seat of the car. Biting her lip, and holding her breath, she applied pressure to the key and turned it once. Nothing. Twice, the engine stuttered. A final time, the engine roared to life.

Beth let out a cry of victory and clasped her hands together in front of her chest and thanked the lord for this miracle. There was no way that someone; something wasn't looking out for her. Whatever, whoever it was— it wanted her to survive. She bit back her tears and stepped out of the car to shut the trunk and then shrugged off her backpack and shoved it in the front passenger seat before slipping back into the driver's seat.

This time, she strapped in her seat belt and shifted the gear to drive. Sure, her ankle throbbed in pain, but knowing that she didn't have to walk the entire distance home to Daryl… she was willing to take the hit.

Most definitely.

-0-

Something's wrong… why is it so damn quiet? Where is… where is Beth?

"Beth?" he tried his voice—man, it sounded grittier than sandpaper against sheetrock. There was bright light streaming through the windows, he knew that much from the way he squinted his eyes shut as he tried to open them.

His body ached, especially his lower left side. Actually, the word ached was a true understatement. He felt as if he had been cut open and left to rot—or however that felt like. He changed his position on the bed, bending his right leg and planted his foot against the soft surface of the bed. The mere action alone sent waves of stabbing pain up his spine, draining his already depleted energy.

He felt a pressure on top of his body and resistance when he lifted his leg. Cracking an eye open, he peered over the length of his body. Patterns—pale tan colored base with small flower patterns covered him. His eyebrows furrowed into a frown when he realized he was on a bed, covered with a blanket.

Bed? Blanket?

"Shit!" Daryl shot up into a sitting position, then immediately regretted his hasty decision when the sensation of being stabbed in his left side ripped through him, causing him to wince and cradle his side. Memories of what had happened before he lost consciousness began flooding back to him. They were running—him and Beth. Running from the walkers and the Joe's men, finally reached the funeral home. Then… then what? He shook his head, trying to clear his muddled thoughts. Beth… Beth started to clean him up.

Beth had saved him in more ways than one, he realized as he noticed the pristine white bandages covering his abdomen. He felt stickiness behind his left shoulder blade and realized that stab wound had been bandaged too.

His heart hammered in his chest—he was shirtless. Fuck. Fuck! He grimaced at the thought of innocent Beth seeing the scars on his back in courtesy of his drunk-ass father. He then recalled the sensation of soft lips pressing against the skin on his back in the darkness. Was that Beth?

Daryl groaned and clutched his head as a massive headache began to make itself known. He couldn't tell if he dreamt about her or if she really did kiss him—his back at least. His face flushed with the thought… beautiful, innocent Beth placing a kiss on his back after seeing his scars. Yeah, right. This isn't some damn romance novel. It was a dream, for damn sure.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, mindful of his injuries. Then, he noticed the half full bottle of diet soda they were drinking not too long ago. Suddenly aware of his parched throat, he snatched the bottle and uncapped it, chugging the sweet tasting liquid down not caring that the liquid was flat. He actually preferred water and the occasional beer—soda wasn't his thing.

He let out a groan of satiety when his thirst was finally quenched. He remained seated on the bed for a little while longer, wondering why there wasn't a sound to be heard. "Beth," he called out again, this time his voice louder and firm. He began to worry when there was no reply from her. He surveyed the room—a few pigs' feet bones scattered in a corner, a fallen blanket on the floor, a great pile of bloodied bandages, a basin of blood red water and tons of first aid supplies.

He had to hand it to her, Beth was quite resourceful. Since these items were still here—it must mean she was still in the proximity, right? Daryl eased himself onto his feet despite the pain from his side. His body felt sticky and he stunk like sweat, not to mention his jeans felt a bit damp as well. He must've had one hell of a fever. He slowly made his way to the window of the room, which happened to be behind a writing desk.

He brushed aside a part of the curtain to check ground floor. All was quiet—not a soul in sight. "Hmm," he hummed to no one in particular when he noticed that some of the leaves on the trees were beginning to change to a darker shade of green. It'll be autumn soon, if it isn't already… then come winter. He had somehow managed to survive through the night in this safe place. He meant it when he told Beth they could make this place their own. The area was perfectly secluded; the house had boarded up windows, plenty of wood nearby to work and use. The place ran on propane, there could be heat if he could fix it up somehow.

This place was so well managed when he and Beth intruded, there was no way that certain utilities didn't work. And… and the expression on Beth's face when he told her that they don't have to keep running—it is worth the effort to try and secure this place further.

It'll just be him and Beth. The very thought put a small smile on his face—this place may not be a whole lot, but it'll be just him and Beth. And that's all he could really ask for at this moment in time.

With his mood lightened, Daryl pulled his hand from the curtains and motioned to turn around. The soft push of air from the curtain falling back to its place rustled a piece of paper on the desk, catching his attention. He picked up the small note and brought it closer to his eyes.

"On a run to grab some more meds, be back soon. –Beth."

Daryl inhaled sharply, shocked. Panic began flooding through him. His previously light mood turned sour and afraid—afraid of the thought of being alone, afraid of losing Beth… because of him. This can't be happening, he hissed to himself. Frantically looking about the room, he spotted his crossbow and bloodied shirt on the floor near the foot of the bed.

"Damnit Beth," he cursed repeatedly in his head. Scenario after scenario played in his head—all of which revolved around Beth dying. Dying by walkers or worse… being kidnapped again. His breaths became rapid and shallow as he pushed through the pain from his injuries to pull on his shirt and gripped the handle to his crossbow. His hands were shaky from the adrenaline; nothing mattered to him at this moment but to rescue Beth. He had to find her, somehow.

It wasn't as if he would die without her… no. He wanted her in his life. He wanted to hear her soft, sweet singing. He wanted to continue to see her confidence growth as he teaches her more survival skills. He wanted to see her bright smile and hear her say 'there are still good people in this world, Daryl.' He just… wants her.

Daryl made his way quickly down the stairs, cautious on what he'll find on the first floor. He could smell the decaying corpse he had killed when he was in the basement, other than that, not a sound was made.

Then he heard it—the sound of an engine. Gripping his crossbow securely, he made his way to the front door and peered between the wooden boards on the door. An old, red Cadillac DeVille pulled up to the funeral home, the shadows of the tree limbs obscured the face of the driver.

He readied his crossbow, his hand on the doorknob, ready to swing the door open and shoot the intruder dead. Out from the tree line, he spotted a walker trailing the car. He briefly debated if he should kill the walker first or the driver. With abated breath, he watched as the driver's side door open after the engine cut off, and the walker now only yards away from the car.

The door remained open, no one stepped out. Soon, the straggler walker closed in, its decaying arms flung out in front of it as it launched an attack on the mysterious driver.

He heard a cry—it almost sounded as if the stranger was Beth.

Then he saw it. Her beautiful mess of blonde hair. Beth.

He swung the door open, took a step into the porch and fired his crossbow at the walker's head. It slumped over immediately, toppling over Beth.

"Beth!" he yelled for her, and untied the sound trap from the pillar and jolted towards her. He saw her struggle to push the deceased walker off of her and was worried if she was injured on her run. "Beth! What the hell?" he hissed after he kicked the walker off of her.

"What the hell were you thinking, going off on your own like that? You could'a been killed out there!" he let his anger slip, unable to control the rush of emotions coursing through him. His chest heaved—he didn't want to be upset, but damned be he couldn't control it. He thought he had lost her. He really, truly did.

With a frown on his face, he watched Beth raise her head slowly—her eyes full of shock.

"Daryl?" she whispered, her bottom lip trembling, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

He was taken aback by the onslaught of tears falling from her eyes, and the smile of relief on her face. But he wasn't going to let it slide—he's going to make sure she gets an earful from him. "What were the hell were you think—"

Daryl stumbled a few steps back when Beth crashed into his body in a tight hug.

"You're okay? You're okay!"

He felt her press her tears stained cheeks against his chest, her arms encircled around his waist under his shirt, crushing his body tightly against hers.

"I thought… your fever… I was scared you were gonna die," she sobbed, barely able to speak her words.

Then it all made sense to him. It would explain the note, his drenched clothes, his extreme thirst and muddled memory. He must've had a high fever that didn't go away, forcing Beth to make the decision to go out on her own.

His anger dissipated into thin air, a sense of relief and humbleness washed over him. Here he was, about to chew her ears off for going off on her own when she must've been scared out of her mind. She did it for him. She did it for him…

He didn't care about the pain that Beth was causing him through her desperate hug—he relished in it despite the pain. She must've been so worried about him the entire time. She was so naïve… so gentle, sweet… so… Beth.

With a soft chuckle, Daryl enveloped an arm around her waist and pulled her flushed to him. He buried his face into the crook of her neck, his free hand stroking the back of her neck in soft caresses. For the first time in his life, holding a woman in his arms had never felt more right. His lips gently brushed against the shell of her ear, and he whispers tenderly…

"I'm here, Beth… I'm here. And I ain't going anywhere."

/

J.R. - :P Reunion!

Let the fluffy times begin! They still need time to sort out their feelings for each other. So… the kissing… maybe within the next couple of chapters. The sexy time? Still a while to go!

This is a slow burn chaptered series… so please be patient with me. I intend to see this entire story through, with the resolution of walkers! Expect lots of chapters!

Also, I will be bringing in other main characters in within the next few chapters (3-5). [RickxMichonne] [CarolxTyreese] [GlenxMaggie]

Review junkies like me tend to update faster with more reviews!

Thanks for reading, please review folks!