…

She isn't mad at them. How can she be? She got shot in the head and who would ever think a person could survive that? She can't be mad at them for that; for leaving her behind.

Some days, she thinks about going to go find them but she never does. She likes to think that they had gone to take Noah home but she doesn't go after them because what if she gets all the way there and they're not there? Where would she go next? It's a big world out there and the less of it she can travel by herself, the better.

When she wakes up in the hospital for the second time, she thinks she's dead and she's in hell and this is her eternity. But she quickly learns that she's actually alive and this time is drastically drastic. Everyone seems either scared or nervous around her – even the police – and in the two weeks it takes for her to recover, she is given back her things and she walks out of there on her own two feet without being chased. One of the police even give her a knife. They offer a gun but she shakes her head, preferring the knife. It's quiet and she doesn't have to worry about bullets.

At first, her only goal is to get out of Atlanta alive. And once she does that, she stops to think of where she should go. And for one brief moment, she actually considers finding her way back to that funeral home before she reminds herself that the funeral home had just been one big trap in the first place and even if it wasn't, she doesn't think she can go back there and sit in that kitchen or play that piano without thinking of him. And she's trying so hard to not think of any of them.

Especially him.

But thinking about him is always inevitable because as she begins making her way back towards the farm – home – his voice is constantly in her head. She identifies every track she sees, she looks at the signs in the dirt and on the passing leaves. She finds water and which berries are safe for her to eat. She can block everyone else from her mind except him. She can't escape him even if that's what she wants.

She knows it's not.

She kills walkers as they come and she sleeps in trees or in a house she passes if she thinks it looks secure enough. She follows the sun and knows she's headed in the right direction but when she comes upon that pileup on the highway that she hasn't seen for so long, she almost falls to her knees with relief.

"We made it," she whispers and she hasn't spoken out loud in so long and she's not surprise that when she finally does, it's to him.

She forages the tangle of vehicles for any supplies that might be useful and then, taking a series of deep breaths, she begins heading into the trees towards the farm. She doesn't even know if the farm is still there; if the herd is still there but she remembers that if it's gone, there's the church nearby that Glenn had mentioned once when he had been telling them about their search for Sophia. The church at the time had been left alone and pretty isolated and she can only hope that it's still like that. And if it's not, she'll think of something else.

But first things first. She has to see the farm.

She steps through the trees slowly and the first thing she sees is the blackened remnants of what was once one of theirs barns that had burned that night but she never thinks about that night anymore and even though she's back now, she's not going to start again now.

Her eyes scan the fields and she sees a few walkers milling around. Nothing like the herd that had been here before and she can take these out easily enough.

And that's what she does.

She slithers through the tall grass, going to each one as they just stand there, swaying in the wind like their own blades of grass, and they don't see her and when they do, it's too late. She's silent. She doesn't hesitate or stop until every walker she sees on her family's farm has her knife plunged into their skulls.

Only then, once she is completely alone again, does she finally look to the house. And it's still there. It's still standing. The white paint having faded but who cares about that because it's still standing. No one – or nothing – has touched it. And suddenly, she's running towards it, the pack on her back bouncing up and down as she runs, her eyes flooding with tears.

Home. She's finally home.

…

The farm is as it always is. Quiet and isolated and she sometimes doesn't see a walker for days. The wells are still letting her having running water in the house but the generator is broken and she's not equipped to fix it. She can do a lot of things now that she hadn't used to be able to but fixing machines still isn't one of them.

If he was here, he'd get it fixed in no time and she'd have lights and heat inside but people can live without those two things and she doesn't miss something she doesn't even really need. There is a fireplace for her to use and heat her water over and keep her warm on those really chill nights.

She used to can with her mama every fall – another lifetime ago – and some of those jars were still in the basement. And her daddy, the sort to always be prepared, had fully stocked their cabinets and pantry with nonperishable and canned goods that were still good to eat. But even though she has so much food, she still rations it because she doesn't know what will happen and she can't be too careful.

Only an idiot is careful anymore.

In the shed, she finds a crate of her daddy's seeds and she gets right to work. She plans it out and then starts tilling and digging. She plants the seeds in neat, straight rows. Corn, green beans, tomatoes and cucumbers. She surrounds the whole thing with some chicken wire she also finds in the shed because walkers aren't the only pests out there who she wants to kill if they get into her crops. Inside the kitchen, in little pots, she grows basil and mint and every day, she tends to her vegetables and hums to herself and she thinks about how proud her daddy would be of her.

She doesn't talk anymore. She has no one to talk to anyway. But she still sings.

She still doesn't think about the others. She sees no point to it. She doesn't know where they are or if they're alive and all she can care about right now is that she's alive. She made it. And she's home again, sleeping in her own bed, and tending to her vegetable garden in the backyard and she's alone and the farm is safe for this day and that's all she cares about.

But sometimes, when she's humming or out in the woods, tracking down the possibility of having fresh meat, he enters her mind and he stays there for days. She thinks of the funeral home and songs on the piano and candlelight and oh and the way he had carried her into the kitchen, so proud of himself for the way he had set their breakfast up for her.

She thinks of all of these things and she doubts she'll ever forget and all she can do is dig in the dirt and wonder if he still remembers those things, too.

…

It's pointless, she knows, but she dusts every few days. She keeps the house clean because it's her mama's house and she took such pride in a clean house. She visits her grave, too. Hers and Shawn's and Dale's and Sophia's and there are wildflowers that grow in some of the fields and she picks some to lay small bouquets on each. She gathers sticks and makes four crosses and marks each one.

She doesn't know what had happened but she knows that something must have happened for her family not to bury her. There had to be a reason she woke up in that car's truck. She's grateful – of course, now – that she hadn't had to dig her way out of the earth but why hadn't they buried her? As far as they knew, she had died.

She doesn't want to think about it though. She doesn't want to think that maybe, they just hadn't cared that much because even if that's the truth, she knows, in her heart, that he cares and somewhere along the way, he has become really the only one she cares about in return.

…

The summer passes and she harvests every vegetable she has produced in the garden and she spends her days, picking and canning and preparing herself for winter. She can't remember the last time she saw a walker but she still walks the farm every day, checking the fences and making sure that everything is secure. This farm is hers and she's not running from it again.

She thinks of winter coming. She's not afraid of starving and she has been chopping wood every day so she has plenty for the fire. And every time she's in the bathroom, she looks at her reflection in the mirror and looks at the scars on her face. If she can survive everything that she's already been through, she can survive a winter in her home; on her farm. She made it and she's not going out that easily.

…

It's the first snow of the winter – light flurries that dance in the wind and don't seem to ever actually land on the ground. She's in the living room, adding another log to the fire when she hears it. She lifts her head and listens to it getting closer but she can't believe it at first. She's not even sure she remembers what it sounds like.

But she stands up and looks out the window and the sound's only getting closer.

She doesn't understand it though. It can't be… why would he be here? Why would he come here, after all this time? He doesn't even know she's alive. It can't be him. There must be others left alive who ride.

She keeps a gun though she never uses it and she pulls it out now, slowly approaching the door. The motorcycle is almost to the front door and it looks like they're alone. Still, she grips the gun tightly, ready to pull the trigger. But when the rider is close enough and she can see clearly who it is, the gun falls from her hand and lands with a heavy thud on the wooden porch.

And he is staring right at her. He is able to stop the bike and he climbs off, his eyes never leaving her. Her own eyes take in every detail. His hair is longer, his crossbow is still on his back and the bike is new.

She wonders what he sees when he looks at her. Is she still just another dead girl to him? She has to be. Because the last time he saw her, he thought that's what she was.

For the first time in months, she opens her mouth and speaks. Not sing but actually speaks and she wonders if she even remembers how to speak. She wants to ask him what he's doing here. She wants to know how he knew to come here after all this time but those might be too many words for now.

"Hi," Beth Greene finally says with a small smile.

And Daryl Dixon finally takes a step towards her before he falls to his knees.

…