There will be time gaps in this chapter to bring it up to speed.
I promise, there is a purpose for it!

** I am VERY EXCITED to announce that the Walking Dead Season 5 Trailer is out and it WILL be supporting the theory I had going for this story! I intend to see this story all the way through, who is with me?! **

Take Me as I Am
Chapter 14
[Candy Wrapper]

She was being burned alive.

From the tip of her toes to the top of her head, fire trapped her in a fiery labyrinth she couldn't escape from.

Everywhere she ran within the walls of fire, the undead followed.

They beckoned her with whispers of completion—absolution. To be one of them.

Beth ran for hours upon hours, days upon days, rounded corner after corner in hopes to lose them. To no avail, they followed, always beckoning.

Her sanity was slipping. Everything around her didn't make sense.

The last thing she remembered before slipping into this inferno was a man.

A gruff and rough looking man on the outside—she knew better. His loyalty knew no boundaries, as well as his heart.

She remembered his arms embracing her, shielding her from evil. His lips—his soft lips pressed against hers in a bruising, desperate kiss. The look in his steel blue eyes was a fearful, yet determined one.

With him, she remembered feeling safe.

With him, she recalled his concern for her wellbeing.

She recalled his musk of pine, sunshine and sweat. She can hear his husky voice whispering in her ears, telling her to return to him.

She yearned to be held by him, to be touched by his calloused hands.

But what was his name?

It started with the letter D, she knew that much. She remembered his features, his strengths and flaws, his voice and the emotions that would dance in his eyes.

But what was his name? What was his name?

-0-

Daryl speared in the final pillar to the blockade he built around the funeral home. He scanned the perimeter for the thirteenth time today, this time though, he was satisfied with his work. The funeral home was now surrounded by a barricade made of wooden spears dug into the ground at various angles. He built a wooden rail fence with a gate behind the trenched spears for extra protection.

He had to be extra cautious; he had to ensure the safety of one specific person sleeping within the house.

Three weeks.

It had been three weeks since Beth was bitten.

The first hour after she fainted in his arms after he had kissed her, he feared she had died and will be turning into a walker. Despite his better judgment, he carried her limp body up the stairs and tucked her in the bed she occupied earlier that day.

Then he tied her up. All four limbs: both arms and both legs, he tied with torn sheets in a way that walkers wouldn't know how to get out of—secured to the posts on the headboard and footboard of the bed. For the hour after he secured her, he was numb.

Didn't know what the hell to do, though he kept his knife with him the entire time. He did say he wasn't going to kill her—but if she turned, she was already dead.

If she turned, his Beth was long gone. No matter how much he despised the thought, he would have to make sure Walker Beth didn't hurt anyone. He would have to put a knife through her pretty head—she would've wanted it that way. She would tell him that she would rather die than to hurt anyone else. He would do that… for her. If she turned.

For the entire night of the day she was bit, he observed her with his knife drawn and ready in his hand and Dooley by his side. For some damned reason, the dog wouldn't leave her alone.

He would jump up onto the bed and lay his head on her chest; his head would rise and fall with every breath she took. He never made a peep and stayed that way until first daylight.

Dooley whimpered and whined until Daryl finally got up from his seat by the door to find the cause for the dog to whimper. Then he saw it—the angry, infected teeth marks in the skin of her forearm of her right arm. It was a single bite; with the same shape and edges as the one he saw when he bandaged her arm the day before.

The original bite was from Joe when she attacked him from behind—not a walker. He believed her on that. He took another look closer at the bite wound, took his thumb and pressed it against her flesh, hard. He remembered Beth whimpering in her unconscious state from the pain, which was a good sign. She wasn't dead. When fresh, red blood seeped from her wound, the pieces began clicking in place for him.

He remembered the bandage, the one he put on her, was dangling from the walker's mouth. There. That was it. Yes, there was no doubt she had been bit—but the bandage may have been her saving grace. Why else would the bandage be dangling from the walker's mouth, except for the fact that it bit down on it? There was blood from the sheer biting force of its teeth snapping onto her flesh and ripping the fresh scab and deepening the wound, drawing fresh blood. It had to be it.

It had to be.

It was a radical, damn near crazy thought, but maybe… just maybe, Beth might not turn after all.

At the time, three weeks ago, when he came to that realization, he questioned his own sanity. Maybe he couldn't cope with losing another person he grew to care about. Maybe he didn't want to be alone again. Whatever his damn case was, he was sure glad he didn't put an arrow through her head.

Because if he did, and came to this realization after the deed was done, he would regret it for the rest of his life. It would eat at him, knowing that he killed her without discerning proof that she will turn. Maybe the guilt would send him over the edge until he put a bullet through his own brain.

He was damn glad he didn't though.

Because now, Beth was still with him. Sleeping… comatose… but alive.

For the first week, he took care of her. He fed and cleaned her, always checked on that bite wound for infection or any sign that she would turn. She didn't, though she never opened her eyes or gave him any sign that she would wake up and smile at him with those beautiful lips of hers. He had cleaned the infection away in a way he knew best—skinning. As brutal and barbaric as it sounded, it was all he knew… he was no expert in medicine. What he did know was what he saw in those old movies he used to watch as a kid growing up. They sterilized their knives or needles with fire then carefully cut out the infected flesh.

Thankfully, he didn't have to go deep. Though he would've done it, taking out a chunk of her flesh if it meant that she would live as a human, not an undead. He didn't know how to stitch the edges together, so he left it—covered by a few layers of bandages and hoped for the best.

Into the second week, he spent most of his time gathering firewood, tree limbs for more spears and scouting the small town Beth mentioned after he checked the map.

And now, into the third week of Beth's coma, he had a stockpile of food that would last them throughout the winter. No matter how he looked at the shitty situation, no matter which angle or how long analyzed it… Beth saved him, and herself.

As much as he would hate to admit it, without the medicine Beth scavenged from the town, she would've died from fever and he… he would've died from trying to find a way to save her. She was his saving grace, in more ways than one.

He would be lying if he said it didn't feel wrong to kiss her. She was Hershel's baby girl—young and naïve to the ways of men. He knew though, whatever the hell feelings he had for her, he had to keep it tightly wrangled so he doesn't end up hurting her. But fuck, it was hard. Not a day went by that he didn't think about kissing her and having her in his arms. It was great, wonderful even… but it opened a new can of worms. Pandora's box, if you will.

If he had to protect her from himself, he would do so begrudgingly. She deserves more, deserves something better… someone other than him, even if it would drive him insane to see her in the arms of another man. No matter what he felt, how he felt, it would turn out for the better. For her. And damned be, he would be content knowing she was safe and happy, even if it was with someone else.

Daryl let out a sigh, beginning to feel agitated from where his thoughts led him. What's a better way to relieve stress than to plunge a knife into a corpse's head? After double checking his gear and weapons, he began scouting the surrounding perimeter of the house.

For the past three weeks, he killed walker after walker and noticed a disturbing change in a few of them. Sure, they seemed as if they were decaying as they should… but some of them… they looked like… aliens. Engorged necks, nearly wrinkle free skins but with sunken eyes and cheeks… fuck, if he didn't know any better, he would say they were mutating. Now that's a frightening thought.

The sun began to descend from its peak in the sky, casting an orange glow everywhere; daylight vanished quickly with the cooler weather. According to the watch Beth got, it was the Friday before Thanksgiving. It would be dark by the time he would return to Beth, he had ventured out further than expected this time. Securing the rabbit he hunted along the way, he began his trip home.

It didn't take long for him to reach the familiar railroad tracks. He had been monitoring the tracks for a while now, noting down any major or minor movements from walkers or humans. He usually found nothing… until now.

The silver light flickering between the wood and gravel of the track caught his attention.

"What the hell?" He made his way over to the source. Picking it up, he examined it – adrenaline began pumping through him almost immediately. Candy wrapper, fresh. No dust, dirt or smudges on the wrapping. Humans. Too close for damn comfort. From where he stood, it would only take two hours to reach the funeral home. It was too damn risky to not find out who and how many were around the area.

Darkness engulfed the sky by the time he saw any sign of life… or the undead. He saw shadows moving around the track, a good distance away. Using the forest tree line as cover, he inched closer, cautiously.

Suddenly, chaos erupted. Shouts and gunfire echoed in the night as more shadows descended upon the first set.

Rick.

His one true friend in all this madness. He couldn't let him die. Without hesitation, Daryl leaped into action, running full speed into the chaos. Then he saw them… Rick, Michonne, Carl and Joe and his men. They had his family pinned down, Daryl panicked.

"Joe," Daryl barked out admist the scene. Joe had Rick pinned with gunpoint. "Joe, these people are my friends. They're good people."

"Well lookie here. Long time no see, stranger. When I'm through with them, you're next and, how are these assholes good people, when they killed one of mine, huh Daryl?" Joe had a maniac expression in his eyes, hell-bent on drawing blood.

"No, no. They are good people, take me instead. Don't hurt them," Daryl inched closer, ready to strike at the opportunity. He wasn't lying about giving himself up for the safety of Rick, Carl and Michionne. Hell, he wasn't going to go down without a damned fight though.

"Don't be lying to me, boy. You know I hate liars," Joe nodded at his men, those of which descended on him rapidly, laying blow after blow against his back and abdomen. He could feel his stitches tugging at his skin. Damn, just when they were almost all healed.

"First we're going to beat Daryl to death. Then we'll have the girl. Then the boy. Then, I'll shoot you. And then we'll be square," Joe taunted at Rick.

Fuck of he knew what happened next. Everything around him blurred into chaos when he heard Joe's promise of raping a woman and child. Like hell he'll let that happen. The odds quickly turned against Joe and his men, they were quickly dispatched, one by one.

Daryl looked over enough to see Rick ripping out Joe's throat with his teeth, ending that poor, miserable, sorry excuse of a man's life. Then he turned his attention to the guy that pinned Carl down and plunged his blade into him without another word.

Chaos died on the tracks as soon as the marauders were dead. Rightfully so. Daryl noticed though, these men were not the same men who attempted to save him and Beth. He briefly wondered if they died or just left the crazed-assed man.

Battered and bruised, he sank down onto the gravel, catching his breath. He casted a glance over Michonne comforting the distraught Carl, then at Rick who rested with his back against a nearby truck. This was one hell of a night. They must've sat in silence for almost an hour. The moon was high up in the sky, signaling the time near midnight.

Grabbing his water bottle and rag from his backpack, Daryl cleaned his face off before heading over to the silent Rick and offering the cloth to him.

"Hey stranger," Rick offered him an emotionless smile before accepting the rag.

"Hey." Damn, his voice sounded rustier than normal. Thinking about it, he hadn't been using it much since Beth became comatose.

"How did you find us?"

"Followed the tracks, found the candy wrapper… then saw you guys. You okay?"

Rick nodded, "I don't know, Daryl. I don't know." Agitation, regret and helplessness was written all over his face.

"It wasn't your fault man… it had to be done to keep your boy safe. I would've done the same," Daryl paused for a second before a mirthless smirk appeared on his face. "I did the same thing."

Rick looked at him, questions forming in his eyes.

Without waiting for him to ask, Daryl spoke. "I was with these guys… for a short while. Beth… she was kidnapped and I trailed her. They found me and well. It was a join them or die situation. The leader spewed shit about rules and not lying. Fuck, I thought they might be good people. I was wrong. Way the fuck wrong."

"You were with Beth? Kidnapped?"

"Yeah, got out with her. Thought we found a safe place but got overrun. Then she got kidnapped by some psychopathic priest. She was messed up in the head when I found her again," unknowingly, a fond smile donned his face. "She almost died, but she made it through. But fuck… I should've took her and left the moment I found her. That group… those fuckers. It wasn't safe with them. I was so fucking stupid to even think otherwise."

Rick shifted on the ground, alert to the new information he was hearing. Concern was written over his face over the young woman who once took care of his Judith. "What happened?"

"One of them fuckers was on her when we were sleeping. Faggot tried to rape her. He would've done it too if…" Daryl chewed on his thumbnail aggressively, getting worked up at recalling the memories. "I saw red. I fucking pummeled his head until there was nothing left."

"It ain't your fault Daryl, it needed to be done. No matter what shit happens, I know for a damn fact that you're a good person. A good person," Rick looked down at the rag in his hands for a brief moment. "You're my brother Daryl. No matter what this road takes us, I got your back."

Daryl looked up, catching Rick's eyes. Rick was the second person to call him a good person… the first… Beth, his Beth. "Thanks man," he nodded, looking away. The trust that Rick had in him was overwhelming, humbling even.

"So, where is she now?"

Daryl paused for a long moment, debating on how to answer. He trusted Rick, but damn, he would be lying if he said he wasn't afraid Rick would kill Beth because of what had happened. "Can you trust me?"

"What kind of question is that?" Rick laughed it off; his mood finally lightened a smidge.

"She's at the funeral home, the camp. The place is secured now… but she's sick man. I don't know how long it's going to go for either," he could hear his own voice betray his stoic face. It took him a second to register the fear in his voice, the tears that almost began to blur his vision.

"Is she going to be okay?"

"Can I trust you?" Daryl turned his face and captured Rick's eyes with his own piercing gaze. He saw the wheels turning in his head, things clicking into place. Rick was not a stupid man.

"She bit?"

Daryl had to smirk on that one, but nodded. "Yeah. But she's alive. Walker bit her bandage on her arm, tore it right off with some skin. Been cleaning it since. She's been sleeping since."

"For how long?"

He heard the apprehension in Rick's voice and briefly wondered if telling Rick all this information was a good thing. "Three weeks. She's been sleeping for three damn weeks. Didn't wake up once," it alarmed him to hear the weariness of his voice. "She didn't turn though. Just… sleeping."

A long silence descended upon them. Neither men spoke a word. Daryl would never forgive himself if Rick killed Beth despite him telling him that she did not turn. Then again, Rick would never betray his trust just as he wouldn't betray Rick's. He called him his brother. Not friend. Brother. There was no reason not to trust Rick. Sure, they've all made some bad decisions… but Rick wouldn't kill an innocent girl. He just wouldn't. There was trust between the two of them, neither one will break it.

Finally gathering his thoughts, Daryl spoke. "Can you walk a few hours?"

Rick nodded, "Yeah, why man?"

"'Cus I'm taking the three of you to the camp, the house. Home."

Home to Beth.

/

J.R.- What will Rick do? Do you guys trust him?

Okay, sorry for the late update. School started and it's a mess down here in my end.

I hope this makes up for the last chapter and it answers a lot of questions and concerns. If not, please feel free to message me and I'll be more than happy to answer!

Yay for Season 5! This story will follow the season 5 plot line to some extent. This story is a long, long, long one!

Thanks for being so patient and reading this story. Please continue to show support and encouragement by leaving me a message or a review!