A/N: I don't own TWD or any of its characters. If I did, Beth Greene would still be alive! Instead, here's the story I promised in my other story author notes (HOME). This one is different from my other, more fluff and more smut and way less angst and much quicker to the BETHYL point. It's short and sweet so I hope you enjoy it. I'm not abandoning HOME - I should have another chapter posted there soon.

CHAPTER ONE: TAKEN

Beth opens her eyes to the chaos of darkness and screeching tires. Her head rolls opposite of the force the car took. Her whole world is swirling in the dark, musty trunk. Daryl. Was he screaming her name? She could hear someone calling her name in the distance…or was she imagining it? Beth brings a shaking hand to her forehead, to where it was sticky and wet. She is bleeding. She was taken. The car rumbles again, turning sharply and hitting what felt like a divot pavement. It causes her to hit the far wall of the trunk. The impact sends white stars to her eyes despite the black of her dungeon.

Tears start to fall, streaming down her face. She's not sure what she's supposed to do? What can she do? A sob escapes her, her breath hitching. She can't do this alone.

Then Beth hears the words, the memory of their conversation suddenly blaring in the back of her mind. I'll be gone someday. She said those words to him. Stop. Daryl. I will. You're gonna be the last man standing. You're going to miss me so bad when I'm gone, Daryl Dixon. She hears herself declaring those words to him. She remembers the face he made hearing those words. She hadn't meant any malice behind them but once she said the words, she understood the weight behind them.

She couldn't do that to Daryl. She wouldn't leave him alone to be the last one. They had been through too much to allow that now.

"Think," she hisses to herself, wiping the tears from her eyes. It's dark, too dark to see anything. She wasn't bound. She can do something. She fumbles blindly to where her knife should be. It's gone. He must have taken it from her when he hit her.

She feels the surrounding walls, jumbling and tumbling in the dark if the car moves even slightly. Beth doesn't know how long, less than an hour but longer than five minutes. Time is seemingly absent when you are alone in the dark. Her nimble fingers find the hidden compartment for the tire. It takes time to open, a struggle in the cramped space and dark, but she does it. She finds the tire iron, clutching it tightly. It's heavy and has a longer handle of an older model. It's just what she needs. Beth waits, trying to contain the terror hammering in her chest.

The vehicle slows and then stops. Beth scrambles to get into position by the lid. She's only going to have one shot at this and her life is depending on it. She's ready when he opens the trunk, the moonlight highlighting a man's figure in the dark of night. He's face is low, peering in after her with yellow teeth drawn into a snarling smile. She sends one good jab smashing into his face. His nose explodes into a spray of blood. He falls backwards, choking out a surprised shout with his stubby hands flailing in wide circles as he does.

Beth scrambles to get out the trunk quickly, her ankle screams at her as her full weight lands on it and causing her to buckle at first. She doesn't let it stop her. She rushes to him, this portly little man in front of her with red black blood pouring out of the middle of his face. He's moaning mindlessly, his arms start to move.

Beth raises the tire iron and brings the steel crashing down on his face. There is no hesitation on her part. She would have thought she would have hesitated but no. She brings another blow with the tire iron again. And again. And again. She's crying again, tears and blood on her face. There is blood and brain and bone splattered everywhere, including her clothes. The man stopped moving and she knows he can't possibly be alive.

She backs away slowly, her body heaving at the site of what she had just done. Her breath won't come despite her lungs gasping for her. She finally turns her head away as she brings a shaky hand to her temple. Her world is swirling again. It's dark but the moon and stars seem to be everywhere, heaven and below her. It's too blinding white for a moment.

She knows she has to get herself under control. She squeezes her eyes shut and takes three stabilizing breathes. When she opens, the world is still dark but calmer. Beth avoids looking at the death she just dealt and scans the area. Where is she? There is a small house next to her, the car was parked in front of it. She startles instantly at the walkers she sees but within seconds realizes they are all chained and contained. A dozen perhaps, all women by the looks of it. Most are missing arms and part of the their lower jaws. They are wearing lingerie and all swaying in the moonlight, an eerie vision. It's in that moment Beth realizes how lucky she was, truly lucky.

The dog is there, cowering next to the car. The one-eyed mutt was a lure. The man must have used the dog in his trap. By the looks of the dead women in the yard, the bastard had perfected his art apparently. Beth bends low, a careful balance on her injured ankle. She calls to the shaking dog, a soft whistle and motion with her hand. He comes slowly, pitiful and remorseful. His one brown eye is so sad as his tongue laps at her fingers.

"You gotta a name, buddy?" she murmurs, taking her time to reach up to pet him.

He skitters a little under her touch but accepts it once her gentle fingers find a soft spot behind his ear. She feels for a collar but finds no tags or anything. No name for her little canine companion.

"Pirate," she whispers as she rises. "I'll call you Pirate." He gives her a small wag of his tattered tail.

Beth looks around her again and realizes she needs to get out of the open. The small cabin is the closest shelter she can see. If there was someone else in there, they would have come out by now. The man's shout might have attracted walkers. She stumbles for the door, tire iron still in hand.

She enters slowly, it's dark with barely any moon light coming through the cracks from the boarded up windows. She doesn't have much choice but feels safer that Pirate enters unapprehensive. There is a small plaid love seat, she sink back into the sofa and closes her eyes. She knows she needs to find Daryl. She knows she needs a plan but nothing is coming. Nothing but black of night and a tired mind. She is asleep instantly, exhaustion and adrenalin have taken their toll on her. The scruffy dog curls up at her feet, keeping guard.

TWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWD

The next day, she awakens to her ankle aching painfully and her forehead throbbing. The first thought to pop in her mind is not about the pain but rather Daryl. Beth struggles upright and immediately starts searching for supplies, ignoring the blood splatter on her arms and hands. She finds a water bottle and guzzles it immediately, sending a sharp pain to her abdomen. She goes slower on the stale crackers she finds, nibbling on a couple and offering some to her new found friend. Pirate takes them gingerly, the perfect little gentleman.

She needs weapons and knows she finally has to go outside to find them. She tries her best not to look at the dead man's face as she searches, her stomach rolling whenever she's forced to see the death she caused. Beth is sure it will haunt her later, her first murder. But now she has to focus to survive. She locates her knife and takes the man's gun from him. Later, while she's searching the cabin, she'll find more bullets but for now, it's loaded and tucked into the back of her pants.

Beth stands at the driveway and looks down the gravel path but can't see the road. Pirate looks up at her expectantly.

"What now?" she asks out loud to the dog but mostly to herself. She looked for the car keys on the man but didn't find them. She searched in the car too but there was nothing. Her only hope had been finding those damn keys. She's not sure where they were. She just knew they weren't where she needed them to be. She wasn't in any condition to travel by foot. Her ankle was too sore to walk far on and her head still gave her dizzy spells if she exerted herself too much.

Daryl. His face flashed in her mind again. How far away was she? Was he still okay? Did he survive the walker trap?

She sighs at her lack of answers and limps to the end of the road. She needs to let him know she's alive, that she's here just in case he's still out there. She takes sticks and rocks to build her name in the road. It's the best she can do in the moment. At least she's given him a sign if he's searching for her.

Beth is exhausted. She makes her way back to the cabin, pausing more than once to rest. Her head continued to swirl the world around her and she knows she's done too much for the day. The walker women are out to protect her hopefully from any real dangers.

She enters the house and calls to Pirate to come in. The stubborn dog sits in his spot by the car and ignores her commands. "Suit yourself," she tells him, closing the door behind her.

She goes to the back bedrooms. One is obviously where he kept them, the women he took. There are handcuffs and blood and whips and other things she can't even imagine what they were used for strewn across the room. The sight sent bile to the back of her throat earlier that morning during her search. Beth bypasses it for the other room. It was his room, his stench is there and there are piles of his old clothes on the floor but she doesn't really care. She's exhausted again. She lowers herself to the stained sheets and rests her head on the pillow. Her blue eyes close to the last thought on her mind again. The same one that drove her yesterday and all day today. Daryl.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! This story is all but done so I will be posting new chapters soon and should be done before the New Year!