It has been a long time since I've written anything for you, my dear followers. I'm sorry about that. I've been going through a lot, and doing a lot of growing up. Right now I'm trying to make my way into the field of Social Work. I've learned a lot in the time I've been away, and here's to hoping I do well with this. You may have noticed that I deleted two of my abandoned stories... they aren't coming back. In the meantime however, I'm going to try to dedicate myself more fully to this one, and once I complete it, I may do more.

At any rate, I hope you enjoy this Glenn-centric AU fanfiction. I propose, as well, a toast.

To the magic of words, for while they often fall short of their intentions, they are a force unto themselves.

I woke with a gasp, a frightful noise that burst from my throat as though it was one of those... Walkers... trying to bluntly beat its way out of me. My heart was pounding, and a shrill monotone beeping (which had been somewhat quiet in the first instant of wakefulness) went haywire, loud and rapid and regular. Panic flooded me... they'd hear it. I was not safe with this damn noise going on!

I searched the white room for something to use. There was nothing remotely resembling a weapon, and I cursed under my breath and ripped an IV... wait, an IV?... out of my arm. I hissed a little at the sensation before getting up, tearing an oxygen thing out of my nose, cursing again as the loud beeping turned into a long monotonic wail. It thinks I flatlined, I realized, relying on an ancient memory of long-forgotten everyday items, things taken for granted and shunted aside. This was not safe. It seemed like a hospital, but how did I get here? There was no way civilization had rebuilt itself here. The Walkers had killed too many people, and suicide and murder had claimed too many more. Was this a trick, played by Rick? Did they come here to get help for Lori, so that she could bear her baby, and maybe hook me up to something still working? But why would they hook me up to such a noisy machine? I remembered suddenly that they all died, and my stress and panic levels reached whole new levels. For a moment I honestly considered whether my heart would burst on the spot.

I crouched and headed towards the door, despite feeling suddenly, inexplicably exhausted. It was as if in a few moments I had run a marathon, and my body, just seconds ago awake and alert and scared, had begun to shut down despite my state of panic, and the adrenaline flooding me. I felt myself collapse and my eyes shut despite my own fervent struggles to stay awake, damn it. A female voice shouted and I felt gentle, firm hands support my head and back, but they felt more like gnarled claws digging into my flesh. I let out a delirious whimper as my senses dimmed, and I floated away on the breeze. I had survived so much, only to die at the end because I needed a cat nap. It would have broken me if I had been conscious enough to think it.

"Mr. Hunter?" A soft, feminine voice echoed softly in the room as my eyes fluttered open. "Mr. Gregory Hunter?"

I was so confused, I couldn't think to respond, so she repeated it again. I realized that her voice was the same one I'd heard before, when I had collapsed. I blinked a few times, and her face slowly swam into focus.

When I saw her face, I think I almost shit bricks. I am sure I must have freaked her out with my sudden attempt to shy away according to her expression, but I fainted again before I could be sure.

I woke again what felt a short while later. She was still there, bustling around the room, fixing a few cards on the nightside table. I must have knocked them over when I tried to get up.

"Maggie?" I breathed. There was a tight, headachy feeling around my temples, like suppressed tears. I knew I was close to crying, but I didn't dare do it. If this was really Maggie, I couldn't bear to cry in front of her.

"Who?" She asked, brow furrowed. And then I remembered that Maggie was dead. She and Beth had both committed suicide at the Farm, while Shane and Rick had been trying to decide what to do with Randall.

"How... are you alive? You died. You... you died, you killed yourself. Beth had convinced you to, and we found you both on the bed, blood everywhere, and..."

I didn't get a chance to finish. She was too shocked by what I was saying, and ran out the door, calling for a Doctor Seamus O'Neal.

When the doctor, Seamus, came in with the reluctant Maggie beside him, I had to do a double-take. It was Hershel. What the hell was Hershel doing here? My mind buzzed with questions. This was the second dead I had seen come back to life. He had died, a bullet through his brain at my doing, after the Walkers had broken into the farm and bitten him. I had killed him at his behest, and now, he was right in front of me, not an injury or trace of the bullet wound to be seen.

"I... don't understand," I whispered, eyes wider than ever before.

"Mr. Gregory Hunter," the doctor said soothingly, "I understand there has been some confusion."

"My name is Glenn, Glenn Rhee, and you're both dead. I killed you, Hershel, well that was after you had been bitten, but you're dead, and so's your daughter there- Maggie- she killed herself, with Beth, you know, her sister, your other daughter?"

Hershel (or Seamus, at this point I was too confused to separate the names) and Maggie shared a very concerned, very dumbfounded look.

"Mr. Hunter, I think we need to have a talk. Would you mind telling me your story?"

"My name is Glenn, Hershel. Glenn Rhee. Don't you remember?"

Hershel sighed and took a seat next to my chair, getting out a tape recorder.

"I'm sorry. Glenn, then, if that's what you prefer to be called. Do you mind if I record your story for my records? It will be a lot harder to figure out what's going on if I don't."

I nodded slowly, and waited until he'd turned the microphone on, stated the date and patient name ("Gregory Hunter- err, Glenn Rhee,") and set the thing on my nightstand, and then parted my lips to tell him the horrible, horrible tale of how I'd come to be the last one in Rick's Group to survive.