Chapter One – Oblivion and Back

She felt warm. No, it wasn't warmth exactly, it was something more comforting, something softer and lighter and pure. She felt – she felt – ethereal. That was it, she felt otherworldly. But everything was still dark.

"Open your eyes, sweetheart," she heard. The voice sounded familiar, filling her heart with love (and perhaps even something a little melancholy).

Beth Greene opened her eyes to a blinding light, blinking a few times to try and adjust. She was staring at a ceiling with white wooden panels. She could feel a ray of sunlight draped across her body; could see the specks of dust dancing in the air.

"My poor, beautiful girl," said the voice again. Beth sat up urgently; she knew that voice.

"Daddy?" she cried out, her head spinning at the sudden movement.

"Hi, baby girl," said Hershel, smiling at her sadly from across the room. He was sitting on a windowsill, basked in a yellow light so bright he was barely visible to her. In fact, it was her windowsill in her room on their farm.

"Daddy!" she cried out again (happily this time), struggling to get up off of the bed. Her bed. She couldn't seem to move a muscle. "What are we doing here, Daddy? I don't remember how I got here."

"No, pumpkin, you wouldn't," he replied, making no move towards her. She noticed a crossbow on his shoulders. This confused Beth - her father wasn't a violent man, yet the sight of it somehow comforted her. "Don't get up, Bethie, you're not supposed to be here yet, you don't want to toy with a place like this."

"What do you mean?" Beth asked him, squinting to try and see him better. Come to think of it, she had to squint to see anything in the room, it was so damn bright.

"It's not your time yet, honey. You've been given a glimpse, but it's not your time. I need you to open your eyes Bethie. I need you to really try." Her father seemed almost transparent in the brightness of it all.

"My eyes are open. Can't you see them? Daddy, where's Maggie? And Shawn? Did I miss church? Did I sleep in too late?" she asked him, confusion clouding her mind. How did she get here? Why couldn't she see anything but sunlight? And why did this room feel so… temporary? Hadn't she slept here all her life? Her head was buzzing.

"Your eyes," Hershel said with a scary urgency, "open your eyes, I need you to understand that this place isn't for you. Not yet, not for a long time."

"What are you talking about Daddy? I don't understand! Why can't I see you, why can't you come over here?" said Beth, tears streaming down her face in her confusion. "Please, Daddy, my eyes are open, what's going on?"

"I can't cross over to you, I'm afraid. It isn't my place to meddle with God's plan," Hershel said, sounding distant now. Beth blinked through her tears, struggling to see his face through the bright haze. "I know it's hard, pumpkin. I know you have a long road ahead of you, but always remember how much I love you. Beth, honey, open your eyes."

The buzzing in her head grew louder and louder. More menacing.

Open your eyes.

She could feel her heart pounding painfully in her chest. The buzzing turned to a striking pain.

Open your eyes!

Beth shut her eyes tightly to the blinding room, wishing to understand, wishing for the buzzing to stop.

Open your eyes!

Open your eyes!

Open your eyes!

HelloHelloCanyouopenyoureyeskiddo? Ifyoucanhearme –

The buzzing increased just as the pain got louder. She could feel something cold and metal under her hand, and a distant, far away voice seemed to be reaching out to her in the pandemonium.

I'vebeenaloneforsolong….please…please be alive, kid

She could make out strings of words but they didn't seem to be making much sense.

Open your eyes, girl! Open them up so I can help you!

It clicked. Her eyes were shut, her head was throbbing, ripping apart at the seams. Something cold was under her hand, and something warm was pressed up against her face.

I know you're in there, kid. I can tell you're a fighter. Just open your eyes!

And she did. A hooded man was leaning through a car door at her with a crazed look in his eye. His hand was on her face, trying to shake it gently. He gasped, and for a split second, time stopped.

Almost without thinking, without even know how she knew what was coming, Beth's fingers closed around the pistol that had been stuck underneath her hand and pointed it forwards. The hooded man didn't even have a moment to react before Beth emptied the last remaining bullet into the silent walker threatening to bite the unknowing hooded stranger in the leg behind him.

"Jesus, fuck!" the man exclaimed, jumping up and hitting his head on the roof of the car. He turned and stomped quickly on the walker, making sure it was dead. "You just saved my goddamn life!"

"You're welcome," wheezed Beth, slowly feeling herself slip back out of consciousness. The gun had been heavy, almost too heavy, and she felt every last bit of energy seeping out of her.

"No, no no no no," said the strange man, reaching behind him to pull out a dirty cloth. "I'm not going through that again." He gently wiped the cloth over Beth's face, and she realized it had been moistened with freezing water. She felt her heart beats level out as she took a few even breaths.

"Who are you?" said Beth, not even bothering to sit up. She could tell she was in a car. It was filthy, it stunk, and her legs had clearly been coiled up to allow her to lay awkwardly down in the backseat. How did she get here? Why did she have a gun? Why did she call that thing a walker, and how did she know she should kill it? Questions buzzed through her mind, mixing with pain and anger and utter darkness.

"The name's Morgan," said the man, ducking his head back into the car. She could see him much clearer now. He had sad, dark eyes. "I don't know how the hell you're still breathing, kid, but I'm sure glad to have found someone."

"What do you mean?" winced Beth, realizing that the pain in her head wasn't just a part of her confusion. The slow throbbing was becoming less of a dull ache and more of a pounding, searing pain.

"Your head," he said, widening his eyes. "I can't even begin to guess what happened to you, but you've been shot in the fucking brain, kid. Straight through. And you're breathing… and fuck you're even talking… I didn't think miracles still happened these days," he added.

"Oh," she said, and fell silent. Panic was slowly rising in her throat, wrapping itself around her vocal chords, stopping her breath. She had been shot? In the head? Is that why she couldn't remember anything? Would she be able to walk?

"Hey, hey, breathe, kid. You need to breathe," Morgan said, quickly.

"I'm not a damn kid," Beth said angrily, surprising herself. "I have a name."

"Yeah, Beth, I know."

Beth looked at him. She was just about to tell him she didn't know her name, she only knew she had one.

"How did you know that?"

"It says so right here," Morgan explained, pointing at something scribbled on a piece of crumpled paper in his hand. It looked a lot like a crumpled $20.

"Can you read it to me?" asked Beth, her curiosity overpowering the pain for a moment.

"Sure thing, but it's kinda hard to read. Whoever wrote it cried on it a lot…" he replied, flattening it out to read. Beth could see it clearly now, and it was definitely a note written on a piece of money.

Morgan cleared his throat. "Her name was Beth. She was a hero, she died a hero. She was a daughter and a sister. She was hope. She was my hope. She saved my life. It was dark for a long time until Beth. It'll be dark forever without her. Maybe I'll see you again someday, Greene. You were the last good one."

Beth lay speechless for a moment, letting this stranger's words wash over her. She didn't remember anything, couldn't remember who would have written such a lovely thing, or why. She wished she could. She wished she could remember being good, being a hero. But her mind was nothing but empty spaces.

"He certainly cared a lot about you," Morgan said, looking down at her.

"He?" Beth asked quietly.

"The handwriting. It's all messy. Just looks like a man's writing. I found it in your hand, someone had stuffed it into your fist, along with this."

Morgan pressed a small object in her palm. Beth raised it quickly to her face, and smiled through all her pain. It was a small wooden ladybug. Someone had roughly carved her a ladybug figurine and left it for her.

"Guess whoever it was didn't know you were alive," Morgan said slowly, shaking his head. "Pulse must have been too weak."

"Yeah," said Beth, feeling the pain inching through her skull once more. She squeezed the ladybug to try and stop the throbbing. It helped a little. "Looks like I made it after all."

Beth Greene was alive. She was well and truly alive.