Author's Note: Videos for characters canon and original, can be found on my Youtube channel via the link on my profile.

Let Me Forget

Then take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves
The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow...

The clock ticked on, the sound strange, incongruous. Time was measured in heartbeats now, not minutes and seconds. Daryl shifted onto his side, throwing his arm over his head as the bright sunlight struck him, pale and piercing. He didn't want to face the day or the dead. Sleep, when it came to him, was his only escape, liquor being rarer than life nowadays. He shifted onto his other side, the springs of the mattress creaking under him in protest, but he ignored it, like he tried to ignore his very existence. Despite Beth's presence, he was still haunted by the past. Unbidden, he would remember the flash of a sword, the prison falling, fire and flame, life painted in cruel crimson colour, the clock counting down...

Daryl's eyes flickered open. For a long moment he stared up at the ceiling, the past becoming broken shards, shards he struggled to piece together, the tick of the clock drilling into his skull. The world was off-kilter, one he no longer recognized. He slowly sat up, taking in the unfamiliar beige blandness of his surroundings, confusion battling panic. Where the hell was he? Where was Beth? He fought to remember, to recall what he'd lost, feeling like he'd lost himself -

The funeral home. Keep singing. That damned dog. Opening the door. Walkers everywhere. Becoming trapped in the basement. Fighting his way out. Trying to find Beth. Trying to reach her before they did. Then he was on the ground, the world a blur of black night and blood. There had been the screech of tyres, a white cross, a struggle, something striking him across the back of the head, his body being dragged into the boot of a black car, and throughout it all, there had been the sound of a woman's voice, not Beth's, but a stranger's, then darkness, a swirling, whirling darkness he didn't want to wake up from...

But he had woken from it, only to find himself trapped like an animal in a snare. And he knew he was trapped, he could sense it. The comfortable bed and ticking clock didn't fool him for a second. Where he was, he didn't know, and what he was up against, he didn't have a clue either. All he knew was that he was at the mercy of an unknown enemy, and that there would be no mercy to be found either.

Thinking fast, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, before getting to his bare feet, searching wildly for his crossbow, except it was nowhere to be seen. He checked under the bed and even inside the adjacent restroom, but again, it wasn't there. Some bastard had taken it just as they'd taken him. Daryl stood there, feeling like he'd lost a limb. Then he exploded, picking up the bedside cabinet before hurling it across the room, savagely enjoying the sight of it smashing to pieces. Then he picked up a plastic stool, hurling it at the window, before hurling himself at the door, hammering it with his fists, hollering Beth's name.

"Hey! Hey!" a man shouted, shoving the door open, knocking Daryl aside. "Everything's okay! You're safe!"

Daryl regained his balance before launching himself at the man, who screamed, the pair of them crashing to the ground, Daryl on top of him, pinning him down. But before Daryl's fist could connect with the man's bespectacled face, a gun was being pressed against his temple, making him freeze.

"Looks like I might have made a mistake in picking you up, redneck," a woman said coldly, stepping back so Daryl could get up, gesturing at him to raise his hands above his head.

"Where the hell am I?" Daryl demanded. "What happened to the girl I was with?"

The woman just appraised him, her gaze lingering on his face for a moment too long. Daryl stared back at her, eyes narrowing. She was a cop, a damned cop, he realised, trying to hide his bewilderment, taking in her scraped back hair and black uniform, the gold badge and police radio clipped to her shoulder. And she wasn't Officer Friendly material either. The bespectacled man got shakily to his feet, straightening his glasses, before retreating behind the woman. She tilted her head to one side, considering Daryl for a moment, before lowering her gun.

"Shall we start again?" she asked politely, like they were at a damn dinner party or something.

Daryl stood there, sensing the shift of power, that it was no longer in his hands, if it ever had been. But he wasn't sure if the woman was in control either. She seemed to be top dog, calling the shots and shit, but it was like she was playing a part. He might not be good with people, but he was damn sure good at reading them, and he was reading her like a book. Something was off; she was off. Big-time. But he lowered his hands, deciding if she was trying to win the Oscar for Best Actress, he was going to gun for Best Actor, even if he was hardly Daniel Day-Lewis.

"Where am I?" he tried to say calmly. "What happened to the girl I was with? Is she here?"

"You were alone," the woman said, stowing her gun away back in its holster. "If we hadn't saved you, you'd be one of them right now."

Daryl stared at her again, feeling like the ground had been cut away from under his feet. The woman stared back at him, her green gaze dwelling on his face again, almost like she was trying to learn it off by heart. Daryl took a step back, head reeling, heart fracturing. The woman then murmured something to the bespectacled man behind her, Daryl turning away from them, hands balling into fists by his side, fighting the urge to go and punch something, anything. She was lying, but she was also telling the truth. He was alone, and Beth was gone.

Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow...