Warning: Explicit Language

Take Me as I Am
Chapter 13
[Chances Are…]

At some point through the night, she must've gotten too cold and scooted closer to Daryl so she could keep warm. Yeah, that's it.

Or that's what she has been telling herself when she woke with a start, finding her head nestled comfortably on his chest with an arm sprawled across his stomach and a leg entangled with his. There was nothing sensual or intimate about it, she kept telling herself. Not even when she noticed the arm she was laying against was curled up against her back, his hand resting on her waist. Yeah, how they slept last night was for warmth only… not for any other reason.

Gosh, if she didn't know any better, she would say that's a position couples— lovers, take after a tiring night of hot sex.

What are you thinking?! She hissed at herself, shaking her head at the very thought. Of course she knew better. She and Daryl weren't a couple… they … they were just getting by… surviving.

She stole a peak of Daryl through the tops of her lashes, still keeping her head low. He was carving out the tips to the tree limbs he got—still silent. They had woken up to cuddling almost four hours ago. According to the watch she grabbed from the pharmacy, it was past noon. For the entire four hours they were awake, he didn't say a word to her, not even when she asked him questions.

She couldn't deny it though, she hasn't had a good night's sleep until last night—when she was in his arms, secured and protected. She could deny it all she wants, which she will, but it was darn near dreamy. Not to mention she hadn't dreamed of seeing her beloved daddy decapitated, or the Father who died… or Randy trying to rape her.

Beth tried to suppress a haunting shiver crawling up her spine. She failed as the chilling sensation raised goose-bumps on her skin, causing her to wrap her arms around each other, rubbing her biceps for warmth and comfort. She hated those memories. Just merely thinking about what happened or what could've happened made her heart freeze in fear and her eyes swell with tears.

Daryl must've known what was on her mind. He crossed the small distance from his seat on the floor against the wall to her, kneeling in front of her before placing a rough, calloused hand on her knee. A platonic gesture. He was silent for a while before his rusty baritone voice traveled to her ears.

"You wanna help me with this?"

He offered no condolences or words of comfort, just a suggestion, maybe a command, to keep her mind preoccupied with labor. It was so… Daryl. The only time he truly was not the symbolic Daryl was when he rescued her from Randy's assault. His sweet promises of protection, his apologies for not being able to prevent it—she was surprised he had it in him. She would've called him out on it if it weren't for the shock she was in. She doubts he'll do that again.

Beth offered him a small smile and a nod, "Yeah, sure."

Daryl grabbed a few pillows from the bed and piled it near his previous seat on the floor, next to the stack of tree limbs. He had trudged them up the stairs after he shot out of bed when he noticed the compromising position they were in when they awoke. Since then, he had been meticulously carving at them.

He slipped an arm under her knees and one around the back of her shoulders to hoist her into his arms. He made no sound of discomfort or distress from carrying her weight despite his injuries. She was surprised at how quickly he was recovering and marveled if by chance, Daryl could be a superhero. He did after all; notice she had hurt herself despite keeping her mouth shut.

She couldn't hide the fact that she had another injured ankle. Earlier, when she took off her boots and started to wrap the injured foot, she saw Daryl's disapproving glare when he entered the room. She really hoped he would've been preoccupied downstairs for just a tad bit longer. She knew he was pissed that she went out on her own—but hey, on the bright side… the few things she did manage to get would last them a couple of days, not including the stash of food in the cabinets downstairs. They would be able to stay at the home and recover until they were well enough. And, some of the meds helped her with the swelling and pain and Daryl's fever. Win-win!

"Okay, grab the middle like this," Daryl started to demonstrate how to carve at the limbs after he returned to his seat.

Beth couldn't help but stare at the way the hard planes of his chest and abdomen flexed with every movement he made. He was a man of power, strength and skill. Everything about him oozed alpha male—though she noticed he seemed to dislike the role of leading. She continued staring, oblivious to his instructions. His skin was paler under his shirt, not kissed by the sun like his arms, neck and face. What other reason could there be but from the scars marring his back?

"You got dirt in your ears or what? Are you even paying attention?"

She snapped her vision back to his frowning face; she returned his questions with a blush and pulled the tree limb closer to her body. She cleared her throat and straightened her back, embarrassed he caught her staring at him. "I was listening," she clipped, her tone snappy and began to chip at the end of the broken branch.

"'fraid not from the way you're butchering it. Look, you got to curve your blade like this," he demonstrated it for her again.

Beth mimicked his action, thinking she was doing a good job.

"No, Beth. Like this," he gruffed out, again, slicing against the limb.

"I am doing it like you're showing me!" Beth retorted, raising her voice in frustration. "I can't help it if it's not perfect like yours!"

Daryl let out a soft growl from his throat before pushing his work aside and then kneeled behind her, his chest facing her back. His arms encircled around her shoulders, his calloused hands covered hers as he showed her the proper way to carve.

Beth could feel his hot breath to the side of her neck, some tickling her cheek. A heated red blush exploded on her face at his close proximity. If it weren't for their clothes separating the two, his hard, bare chest would've been pressing against her back. She gave full control of her hands to Daryl, mesmerized by his musky scent and rusty voice rumbling in her ears. Something inside her quivered, the sensation caused her to shiver in response; her breath quickened.

His hands stopped moving, frozen in mid action. She heard him swallow thickly; his breathing grew shallow and quickened as well. She could feel his heart hammering in his chest as he held her—her heart followed suit. His hands tightened around hers, the heat of his hands sent delightful tingles up her arms.

"You got it?" he asked stiffly, his voice thick and husky.

A chill crawled up her spine at his tone of voice, and found that she rather enjoyed having his heat and musk surrounding her.

He released his grip on her hands and was ready to pull back from her until she stopped him. She felt disappointed when he released her—she enjoyed his warmth, more than anything she could compare it to. He made her forget about her demons. When he touched her, even if it was the simplest of gestures, it gave her comfort. She wasn't going to let that go… not right now, maybe not ever.

"Can you… show me again?" she whispered, abashed.

Daryl cleared his throat and hesitated. "Again?"

Beth turned her head to face him, her nose just inches from touching his lips. "Yes… again," her eyes down casted from his eyes to his supple lips. They looked slightly pale—mostly due to bloodloss, but he was getting better. Either way, something tempted her. There was something about Daryl Dixon that made her womanly senses go haywire. Maybe it was the fever she had last evening or from sheer exhaustion, but by golly, she was trying hard to resist.

He nodded stiffly and took his position behind her again, wrapping his hands over hers as his chest gently pressed against her back.

Beth relished at the sensation. She could hardly focus on the motion of her hands carving at the wood; she had closed her eyes and tilted her head back until she rested against his shoulder. His heat engulfed her, surrounded her—empowered her. She felt like a crushing preteen who was hugging her biggest crush. It was odd. It was welcomed. It was wanted.

"Beth?" he called for her softly, his voice grainy and unsure.

A small smile appeared on her face and she shook her head lightly. "Shh…" she began, softly whispering to him, "Just… stay like this. Just for a bit. Please…"

Her heart soared with an unknown feeling when she felt Daryl shift into a different position—his hands released hers but one gripped at her left hip, his legs sprawled out beside her, one on each side. He let her head rest on his shoulder, and silence descended upon the two of them comfortably.

-0-

Daryl had his eyes shut, his chin pressing into Beth's right shoulder. He didn't put too much weight on her shoulder. The last thing he wanted to do was injure her shoulder because of him.

Inwardly, he let out a sigh of exhaustion. When he saw that she was tending to the newly injured ankle, he felt his anger bubble from his stomach. He wasn't there to prevent it, to help her when she probably needed him most. To protect her from his anger, he held his tongue between his teeth the entire time. She didn't deserve his anger—he wasn't angry at her, not really.

He was just frustrated beyond belief. He woke up to have her soft body, curves and all pressed up against him without a care in the world. He wanted to yell at her and call her stupid for not protecting herself against the dangers of men—against men like him. Yeah, he saved her from Randy but damned be, if he had sex with Beth, he would be no different than that bastard.

It disgusted him that his body reacted the way it did to her touches. Even now, he fights against the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless before making her completely his. His possession knows no boundaries—that's for sure. The last thing he wants to do is force her to do something she doesn't want to. There was a great many of 'last things' he doesn't want to do to her.

She is different. She is special… she is Beth. There was something beautiful about her, he didn't want to soil.

The worse part—he had a feeling she felt the same way. Both lured… tempted by each other but both too afraid to cross those boundaries for fear of what may happen afterwards. He had to be strong, to enforce these boundaries and walls for her sake.

Well damn, it's harder to protect her from himself than anyone else.

Clank… clank… ruff! Wruff! Woof!

Beth jumped up from her position and spun around to face him, her face frantic.

"Dooley, that's Dooley!" she sprang onto her feet and limped her way towards the stairs, leaving Daryl in the dust. "He's alive!"

Wruff! Wruff! Yelp!

"Beth, wait!" Daryl wasn't sure what the hell was going on, only that Beth was about to barge down the stairs weaponless, and possibly run into a herd of walkers and be torn apart. His heart began racing in his chest as he grabbed his crossbow and the knives they laid on top of the desk, sprung on the heels of his boots and hurried after Beth.

He didn't know how that woman can fly down that flight of stairs with two injured ankles, given, one was probably all healed. Even then, she threw open the front door by the time he reached the top end of the stairs. "God damnit, Beth. Fucking wait for me!" he hollered at her.

"Dooley! Dooley, come here! Ahh!"

He jumped the last quarter of the stairs when he heard her scream, followed by frantic barks from a dog, he presumed to be Dooley as Beth called him.

"Beth!" He hollered for her when he busted through the front door. "Fuck," he cursed sharply as he shot down the walker attacking Beth, a dried flesh clinging to its decaying jaws. He had no time to spare as other nearby walkers approached them. A small herd of eight was heading their way from the tree line. Daryl reached Beth in record time and tossed her his knife, which she grateful received before turning her attention to the incoming walkers.

The house may not hold back eight walkers, even if it did, it may compromise the structure or stability of it. The best way was to kill them—they were too close to be distracted anyway. Daryl kept an eye on Beth as she tackled the one closest to her. He also noticed the dog helping her; biting and pulling at the pant legs or shoes of walkers to bring them down.

His stitches began to burn with each walker he killed. Walker after walker, the undead continued to stalk towards them. He must've dispatched seven already, but there was more on the way. This was not looking good.

"Beth! Beth! Get in the house!" he hollered to her over his shoulders. Aiming his crossbow, he took down another before plunging his knife into a walker that had gotten too close for comfort. He could hear Beth struggling near him, but he couldn't turn his attention away as the two walkers lunged at him simultaneously.

"Beth?!" He hollered for her again, taking down one more. The stream of walkers died down to one last one. Yanking out one of his arrows from a walker's head, he aimed it and fired, hitting his target. Sweat drenched his forehead and body, his muscles weak from exhaustion and was briefly surveying the forest tree line for more walkers until he heard her scream.

"Daryl!" her bloodcurdling shriek pierced into his heart like knife would.

His body flipped around to find her, pinned on the forest floor with a burly, relatively new walker throwing its head back as it relished her fresh, red blood with a bandage dangling from his lips, caught between his teeth. She cried helplessly, kicking at it as it reached in for a second time, this time ready to bite into her flesh.

Daryl bit back a sob, a cry of denial as aimed his crossbow at its head, then releasing the trigger. The walker slumped on top of Beth; he raced over to her and kicked it off of her—his eyes already welling with unshed tears.

"No, no! Get back!" She howled, shoving Daryl back and away from her. Beth cradled her bleeding arm against her chest, her blue eyes clouded with fear and uncertainty, tears already staining her cheeks. Beth's breaths came out rapid and shallow as she tried to keep herself from sobbing. She looked down at her bleeding forearm before burying her face in her hand in a fit of wails.

"Beth…" Daryl took an unsteady step towards her, doing all that he could to show strength in front of her.

"No… stay there. You… you have to go on Daryl. I don't… I don't want to turn," she cried, her anger and hurt echoed in her voice. She hiccupped as she held back her tears, and straightened her position on the floor until she kneeled in front of him, clutching her injured arm to her chest.

Beth looked up at him, her piercing sky blue eyes staring him down with a certainty that sent ice, freezing his heart.

"You have to do it, Daryl. There's no one else," despite the tears streaking her face, she forced her words to be calm.

Daryl shook his head, "Nah… Nah. I don't know what you're talking about. Get your ass back in the house." He wanted to sound firm, but his voice waivered, giving him away. His bottom lip trembled, his heart clenched painfully in his chest.

"Do it, Daryl! Before I turn. I'll do it myself if I have to… but please Daryl," she wept, her eyes pleading. "I don't want to do it to myself… please… help me Daryl. Don't let me hurt someone. Don't let me hurt you… please!"

"FUCK! Motherfucking assholes! Son of a fucking bitch!" Daryl roared, running to a nearby walker and kicking its lifeless body repeatedly until he fell over, energy shattered. He let out a humorless chuckle and stared up into the sky, his eyes wide with anger.

"FUCK YOU!" He thundered into the sky, lifting his hand and flipping the middle finger into the air. "Fuck you…"

"Daryl… please…" Beth's soft, pleading voice drew him out of his rage. "Please do this for me…"

He inhaled sharply, still in rage, drew his crossbow into his arms and stalked towards her, pulling the arrow from the unanimated corpse's head. He paused right next to her after he loaded his crossbow. His face hard, and void of emotion, he reached over and stroked her tear and blood stained cheeks.

How did this happen?

How did he fail to protect her?

How could he… end her life just like that?

This shit is harder the second time around, he thought as he backed away from her, clutching his crossbow in his hands until his entire back of his hands almost turned white.

His hands trembled has he lifted his crossbow when he reached fifteen feet away from her kneeling form. He held his breath, not wanting to breathe or to waste another precious second on anything else but to study her beautiful face.

Damn it. She is beautiful.

Damn it… even with all the shit she gone through, she wanted to end her life before she could have a chance of hurting someone else.

Damn it. She brought out the good in him… if he did this. If he kills her, symbolically he would be killing his goodness—his heart.

Damn it. She might as well hold his heart out in her hands. There was no doubt about it now… Beth meant something to him… something much deeper than physical needs. She meant so much more to him than just someone needing his protection. She is Beth… the light in his soul.

Why?

Why did the walkers have to come?

Why does she have to go?

"Hurry Daryl," she whispered, breaking his trance.

He peered through his scope, aiming at her beautiful face. He saw her bottom lip tremble as he bit the inside of his cheek from sobbing out loud as his finger traced over the trigger. His vision cleared minutely as unshed tears now fell freely from his eyes, splattering onto the sleeve of his shirt.

Dooley, by Beth's side, began to growl at him—ready to defend her.

Stupid dog.

Why did you bring these walkers?

Stupid dog.

You know you're about to make me kill this woman? This beautiful, selfless woman with a heart of gold? The keeper of my heart?

Stupid fucking dog.

"I've always known you're going to be the last man standing, Daryl Dixon," Beth began her final words, her tears matching his as they fell from both their eyes in synchronized time. "For what it's worth, Daryl… I… I… Daryl—I…" She was unable to finish her sentence as a wave of sobs racked her small form.

"Goodbye," she managed to choke out before clenching her eyes shut and lifting her head towards the sky, ready for him to fire the shot.

Daryl shut his eyes, his finger tensed at trigger. He willed himself to do it. It had to be done.

Why did it have to be her?

Why couldn't it have been me instead?

With a sharp intake of his breath, he pulled the trigger.

-0-

I –was– going to end it here, but I think I might get hate mail if I didn't continue it!

-0-

His arrow thudded loudly against a nearby tree behind Beth, splintering the bark.

"No," Daryl thundered, tossing his crossbow to the side. "You ain't going anywhere, Beth Greene."

In that last split second, Daryl made a decision; perhaps one of the most important and difficult decisions of his life. He was going to take his chances. Against all logic, he wasn't going to kill her.

Never. Ever.

Not Beth.

Beth's eyes snapped open in shock, "Why? You have to!"

Daryl ignored her. There was nothing she could do about it. He was going to make sure she lived—one way or another. He closed in on her, taking long strides to her until he was standing right in front of her, ready to make good of his word.

She pushed herself onto her feet and tried to get away from him, "Daryl, you have to stay away! I don't want to hurt you!"

"No!" He growled, digging his fingers into her shoulders, holding her still. "I ain't going to do it Beth. I ain't got the fucking balls to put an arrow in your head. I don't give a damn what you think, but I'm going to save you, Greene. Why? Because you're mine, and damn it, I ain't fucking losing something that's mine. Not to no fucking virus, not to a fucking zombie.

You're mine, Beth Greene and you ain't going anywhere."

He didn't bother to wait for her response. He didn't care what she had to say. Not right at this moment. He threaded his hand into her blonde tresses at the back of her head and pulled her towards him until her soft body was flushed against his.

An arm encircled her waist, tipping her head back; he crushed his lips against hers in a bruising, desperate kiss. She tasted of sweat, vanilla and sunshine—just as he always thought she would taste.

No matter what it takes, he will keep her alive.

He couldn't bear to lose her—not when she was the light in his life, the good in his soul… the woman he grew to love.

/

/

/

JR- Okay, okay. Please hold your pitch forks and torches for another chapter? So, we get a confession from Daryl! Yay! Downside, Beth has been bitten.

Did I stir something in you as you read this chapter? Lol!

Seriously, don't hurt me. At least I didn't end it where I originally planned! Right?

I get cookies for that don't I?

3

Let me know your thoughts, please review!