He'd stolen plenty of things before the world had fallen apart, cigarettes from Merle, beer from his old man, food from restaurants he'd slipped out on before the bill came. He'd stolen even more things after, guns, various vehicles, clothing, and supplies among them - the typical looting that everyone did now just to stay alive. But as he quietly slipped into Maggie's tent while no one was around, he found that this was the one time he was nervous about being caught stealing.
It only took him a brief moment to discern her knapsack from her husband's, having opened one to find a pair of men's boxer shorts, the hem of the legs tattered from use. He knew exactly what he was looking for, the trouble was finding it before their group noticed he was there. He sifted through her belongings, his hands doing the work while he kept an eye on the camp to make sure the coast was clear. He dug past spare clothes, a sheathed knife she kept as a spare, and something that felt like a necklace of some sort before his fingers grazed the soft leather of a small photo album.
He leaned back on his haunches as he gently tugged it free, careful not to disrupt the order of her other things. With one last glance around him, he slowly opened the little book, rapidly flipping through the pages until he found what he was looking for.
The photograph made his throat constrict for a moment as he stared down at it. Her long blonde hair was loose, cascading delicately over one shoulder, one of her hands at the back of her head, fingers tangled in the golden locks as she brushed it back. The other was held up in front of her, palm out as if she were trying to block the camera's view and failing at her task. Her eye make-up had been rubbed at, small black smudges marking the spot just below each eye. She was laughing, her big, blue eyes shining with joy, mouth opened wide to reveal a row of pearly, white teeth, the remnants of lipstick staining her lips a faded red. She was disheveled, yes, but she was beautiful.
This was how he wanted to remember her, a bright smile on her face as she laughed at her sister, looking out of the photograph and into his soul rather than staring up at him with vacant, unseeing eyes, her porcelain skin stained from weeks of abuse.
He carefully removed the photograph from it's plastic confines in the album, sliding it into the inner pocket of his vest, directly over his heart where she'd nestled in, claiming it as her own. Quickly, he shut the album and returned it to it's place in Maggie's pack, peeking out of the tent before emerging to return to his spot around the fire.
Later when Maggie flips through the album, her face solemn as Glenn wraps his arms around her from behind, she notices a blank page where there's previously been a picture. She takes a moment, finger marking her place, to flip through the rest of the book, trying to figure out which one is missing.
As she recalls the photographic evidence of the aftermath of Beth's first party complete with alcohol, she smiles, leaning back against her husband as she searches for a second photograph, one she knows he'll love.
In this one, she's sitting in the grass behind the barn, an oversized sweater hiding her thin torso, the long sleeves hiding the majority of her hands, her legs akin to toothpicks in a pair of dark tights. Her long blonde hair was piled atop her head, small wisps falling out of the bun and framing her face.
She'd caught Maggie smoking a cigarette earlier that day and instead of the disappointment she'd expected, Beth had simply expressed curiosity, wanting to know what the appeal was.
The moment she'd managed to freeze in time was Beth's first cigarette, concrete evidence of her short-lived teenage rebellion, the white stick held between two fingers, pressed to her lips as her eyes focused on something beside her. The following moment had been far more entertaining when she'd thrown the cigarette to the ground at her feet, a coughing fit coming over her as she raised a middle finger at her big sister while she laughed at her misfortune.
When she comes to the fire pit they'd made to cook over, she breaks away from Glenn, finding a seat beside Daryl, lightly tapping him with a loosely formed fist. He looks confused for a moment until he realises who she is, guilt written all over his face as he reaches into his vest pocket to retrieve his stolen treasure.
She stills his hand with a soft touch to his elbow. "Here you go, thief." she smiles, holding out the glossy little rectangle. As his confusion gives way to awe, the first genuine smile she'd seen on his face in a long while, he speaks to her first the first time since she'd left for Washington, though she's not sure that the words are meant for her.
"You're amazing, Greene."