The soft golden strands slid across his rough fingers like silk. Her head lay heavily on his lap, her body curled along the backseat of the old sedan they'd taken from the hospital. As they cruised down the highway leaving Atlanta behind them, he knew he couldn't do it anymore.

Just days before they'd been headed towards Atlanta on another highway, charging in like the cavalry, guns ready and determined to save the girl. Beth, who he'd searched for and worried over and dreamed about since the moment they'd been separated. And they had saved her, and for just a moment he'd thought things were going to be ok. Just a brief fleeting moment, before the cruel reality of the world they now lived in had taken her from him.

The guilt of having failed her was crushing.

Daryl closed his eyes and leant back against the seat behind him. He couldn't look anymore - not at the blood stained hair, or the scars or the stillness of her body. But with his eyes closed he was back in that hallway, with the scene replayed over in his mind like a slow motion movie. Her body falling, the pool of blood spreading, Dawn's panicked expression just before he took her life.

He turned to stare vacantly out the window instead, at the abandoned buildings and broken-down cars as they flashed passed. He didn't know what else was left. She was gone, and with her went all the hope he had that there may be something out there for them.

Now he couldn't even imagine it.

He didn't want to struggle and fight anymore. Making it through one gruelling day after another, just to watch as one by one they lost their friends and family. He couldn't be the last man standing.

It was time, he knew, to just let go.

But first they would bury her properly, he owed her that much. This deceptively strong girl who had shown him he could feel, and he could let someone in, only to leave him more alone than ever. He would find a field somewhere, with long grass and wild flowers, maybe even one of those big old elm trees that she liked so much. A field just like the one they had wandered through together once, which she had said reminded her of the farm. Father Gabriel would read from his bible and the others would cry and then it would be time to move on. He knew Rick would want to head north to Richmond, Noah's promise of an established community would be too much to pass up.

But he wouldn't go.

Rick would fight him of course, Carol would too, but he couldn't go with them. He'd stay behind in that field where she laid, with the long grass and the flowers and he would look up at the clear blue sky and it would be over.

Daryl reached down to hold her much smaller hand with his. Her fingers felt tiny as he threaded them together, remembering the last time they'd held hands as they mourned her father. He was lost in thought, holding her hand and stroking her hair when he felt the slight curling of her soft fingertips against his skin. He looked down at their joined hands and waited, sure his mind was deceiving him. But then it happened again. The movement of her first two fingers was just a slight fluttering, but it was definitely real.

He should have been expecting this, he told himself. Although she'd been shot in the head, the entry wound was high on her forehead. The bullet had probably just skimmed her brain, enough to be fatal but not enough to totally incapacitate it.

He held her hand as her fingers twitched. He knew the movement was caused by the virus taking over, but he wanted to pretend for just a moment longer. Pretend they were back in a time when holding her hand or stroking her hair would have made him feel happy and content. He'd spent his life avoiding human contact, but with her it had been easy, comfortable even. The friendly touches, arms brushing as they walked, or her head on his shoulder as she slept and become a part of who they were.

Beth began to slowly gain strength, and soon the soft fluttering was more a light squeezing of her fingers against his. As he gazed at her face he saw her lips part gently.

Daryl bought their joined hands up towards her face and gently stroked her cheek, then across her lips. The gentle movement of her lips against the soft skin of his wrist felt like a fluttering butterfly wing.

It would be easier this way. If he was bitten, he knew Rick could let him go with a clear conscience. He closed his eyes and felt a sense of peace that he had never felt before. The fight was over, wherever Beth was now, that's where he wanted to be too. The hunger, the fear, the pain - it was all in the past.

Daryl gently pressed his wrist against her lips and waited. He waited for the virus to completely take over her body, and the smell of his skin to awaken the monster within.