A/N: I wrote a few opening chapters to this story before I settled on this one because I wanted something that was more of a hook, but in the end, I decided that even though this might be kind of a boring chapter (especially considering what it will be) it's a look inside Daryl's head and I feel like it's necessary for the story. So bare with me on this, I promise it gets better.

Somewhere along the way, Beth's company had become Daryl's sunshine and in the days and the weeks and the months since she'd been gone, the sun could never shine quite as bright. He was relentless in his search for her, unwilling to give up. She'd been with him last and that weighed heavier on his conscious than he cared to pay mind to. He had failed her. He had been the one meant to keep her safe and he hadn't been able to. She counted on him and he had let her down. The guilt ate him up inside, left him raw and hollow. He hadn't been able to save Sophia and Beth had been kidnapped on his watch. The burdens weighed heavier and heavier until he found himself on his hands and knees, crossbow laid out just within reach. His vision clouded with hot salty tears. Out here in the woods, he was free to grieve. He was free to feel weak and tired and useless.

These woods were the very same that he and Beth had shared; the woods where he had taught her how to track, to hunt, to hold a crossbow and aim. He'd given her all the tools he'd thought she'd needed and in the end, it still wasn't enough.

"Daryl."

The voice was soft, knowing, calling to him from far enough away that he could wipe the salty wetness from his face and still keep his dignity. He wiped quickly with the back of his hand, sucking in a breath as he gathered himself back together, pulling himself upright and throwing his crossbow around his shoulders.

"You were gone awhile, just thought I'd check on you." Carol took slow and deliberate steps forward, her lips pressed into a thin line of understanding. He hadn't told her much, but she knew that Beth had been special to him in a way that only they understood. Stopping an arm's length away from him, Carol let one strap of her backpack fall from her left shoulder and balanced it on her hip as she rifled through. Her fingers clasped around a glass neck and she held it out for him to inspect. "Got ya something."

Daryl didn't move a moment- wouldn't even meet her gaze- but his eyes fell to the bottle in her hands. He was half expecting a bottle of moonshine, another haunting memory, but instead it was an amber whiskey and his hand reached out to pluck it from her. He grunted out a thanks as Carol watched him, teetering unsurely by a tripod of trees, throwing her pack back around her shoulders. Sometimes he'd send her away, but when he didn't, she knew it was because he didn't want to be alone. She could understand that. He didn't talk to her much, especially not about his feelings, but they found a comfort in each other that had been unrivaled by the rest of the camp, try as they might.

He'd all but become a phantom of their group. He was tired; tired of losing people, tired of feeling responsible for it, tired of the heartbreak that came with attachment. He couldn't understand them anymore, he couldn't find his niche. Maybe he didn't want to. So he kept to himself, choosing instead to stick with hunting, being part of nature. Nature wasn't going anywhere anytime soon and if it was, it was taking him with it. He could count on that.

Unable to hold off any longer, he unscrewed the cap and tossed it somewhere to the left of him. He wasn't gonna need it. Sensing Carol still behind him, he sighed at her insistence and met her gaze. With a nod, he invited her to sit and took a healthy swig of the whiskey in hand before wiping his mouth off and offering some to his not entirely unwelcome company. She complied, quiet with a grimace as the liquid burned its way down.

They sat in silence that way for a while, passing the bottle back and forth between them. "You been holdin' onto this a while?" He asked, breaking the silence, his eyes on the emptying glass as he swirled its contents around before handing it back to her.

With a foggy head, she bit back a quirk of her lips. He was playing at normal and she was going to let him. They could keep the charade going for long enough to let the pain go for a moment. "I was waiting for a special occasion."

"You was just holdin' out on me." He met her gaze finally and she could see just how tired he looked. Her heart broke for him, but there was nothing that she could do, nothing that she could offer to fill in the empty, broken pieces, so she played along, clinging desperately to this moment of normalcy before it lost itself to the real world.

She lifted her shoulders and let them fall in an unapologetic shrug. "You still got it, didn't you?"

Daryl didn't respond immediately and Carol didn't have to look at him to know that his demons were back at his shoulders, weighing him down, sucking the life out of him. "Yeah. Yeah, I still got it." His voice was wistful, far away. His eyes stared off in the distance at something she couldn't see and she looked down at the bottle, somehow nearing empty.

He grabbed it from her almost immediately, the sudden movement startling her, her hand moving reflexively to her knife at her side. She relaxed as her senses caught up to her, turning to watch as he swallowed the rest of the whiskey as if it were life water. She ignored the way his eyes shined, looking down at the damn forest floor to give him his moment of privacy.

You're gonna miss me when I'm gone, Daryl Dixon.

She was right. Sometimes he wondered if that was all he did. And he knew one day it would get him killed. He couldn't just let things go, Beth was right about that too. The big things, they stayed with him, they haunted him. But maybe that was what he wanted after all. If people like Hershel and Beth weren't allowed to make it in this world, why was he? What did he do to be standing there right now? He ain't never saved nobody's life. Not like Hershel had. He didn't believe in hope and all that garbage, not like Beth. She shared her light with him and now he was destined to live in the darkness. The shadows had become him and he wasn't fighting back anymore.

His head snapped up at a movement out of the corner of his eye. It was only a moment, a flash of gold. He couldn't be sure about it, his head swam in the amber liquid. His breath was still caught in his throat and he reached for his crossbow. He glanced over at Carol who was reacting similarly, a knife clenched tightly in her hand. "Didya see somethin'?"

Carol shook her head. "Can't be sure." She moved quietly to his back, flanking him in proper stance so she could cover his back just in case. The sun was setting casting a gray and pink shadow over the world and the woods were growing more and more dangerous by the minute. He suddenly felt sober, eyes scanning the woods for any sign of movement. Dark blue orbs fell to the forest floor, perhaps there were tracks that he'd overlooked in his careless self pity before Carol had come to find him. But he saw nothing. He heard nothing.

He could feel the tenseness of Carol's back pressed against his. "Should we head back?"

Daryl didn't answer right away and Carol didn't press. He knew it was the best option and he'd be damned if he let something happen to someone else on his watch. But his feet were reluctant to move and his brain was determined not to let the rest of him know why. But he knew why. For that brief moment, that flash in front of his eyes, he could almost pretend – almost hope – it was Beth.