Still a mile out from the farm, Daryl slows his bike down and signals to Aaron before he stops and shuts the engine off, glancing back at the stretch of road at their backs. It's clean, compared to other parts of the road, all strewn with rusting cars, rotting flesh and battle scars. This road is just empty and dusty, fading into obscurity on the horizon. He sees the shape appear, dark on the fuzzy line in the distance where the road and the sky merge. The dark mark grows larger finally it starts to slow, still a ways away, but close enough that Daryl can be sure of what it is.

Maybe the Grady bunch aren't so stupid. He unscrews the cap on his canteen and takes a swig, waiting for Aaron to get out of his car, check their surroundings and approach Daryl cautiously. Daryl notices Aaron's eyes get snagged on the dot way in the sky as well and feels a little swelling of appreciation. He sees it too.

"When did you notice?" Aaron doesn't raise his voice much above a whisper.

"Just a hunch, really, but back when the road was winding, it brought us a little closer together and I thought I could hear another engine somewhere, mixed into our noise," Daryl gestures to the dot.

"What do you want to do about it?" Aaron takes the canteen from Daryl, eyebrows knit with a touch of worry.

"Might be that they're just cautious. Wanna see what we're up to. Or, it's possible that they got a plan," Daryl shrugs, "they could separate us, kill us and take what we got. You mentioned to 'em that we were going for supplies. That might be their goal."

"You were saying about how it might just be caution?" Aaron asked hopefully, but there was a storm behind his eyes as he considered the darker possibility.

"Either way, important thing is to know for sure. If they're the marauding types, we don't want 'em. If they're cautious, that's good to know," Daryl started to make a plan, searching his mind to try and remember the area.

"Almost, reassuring," Aaron mused.

"Yeah. Having smart on our side can make a world of difference. Dumb shit gets you killed."

"It's just too bad that 'dumb shit' includes trusting absolutely anyone, these days."

They are being followed. Probably by someone from Grady. If their plan is to steal supplies and leave Daryl and Aaron dead, it will be hard to know about it until they engage. If Grady is just keeping an eye on them because they didn't actually trust their saviors then they're just smarter than Daryl previously thought. Not wanting to risk losing his bike or anything else, but understanding how crucial it is to know why they're being followed, Daryl makes a decision.

Leaving their vehicles on the side of the road, Daryl instructs Aaron up into a tree and out of sight. He makes an obvious path in the woods, leading towards an old abandoned shack about a quarter of a mile away. Coming back to where he left Aaron, he's careful to hide his tracks, before he too, scrambles up a hefty beech tree.

It's nearly an hour before it pays off, but with both eyes on the road he eventually hears the fall of heavy boots on asphalt and sees a long shadow stretch beside his bike. Listening, he can't hear anything besides the one person.

Rustling and shuffling grows louder until Licari is right beneath them, crouched on the ground, inspecting the obvious, fake tracks that Daryl made for him. He's got a big knife held loosely, parallel to his forearm in one hand, and he's got a handgun at his waist, but he isn't as armed to the teeth as either Aaron or Daryl, and it looks like he came alone.

Across the way, Daryl catches Aaron's eye. He looks hopeful, but still, he doesn't make a move. Just because it seems Licari came alone and only marginally armed doesn't mean he didn't follow them with intention to kill. Maybe someone is hanging back, waiting. Maybe he's just an arrogant bastard who thinks he can handle both of them on his own.

Licari starts to follow the tracks. Once he's out of sight, Daryl signals for Aaron to stay, but starts to make his way down the tree, as quietly as he can. He follows him at a winding distance until they're within sight of the shack. Licari can clearly see that the tracks lead to the shack, but he doesn't approach, he just watches a few minutes, eyes getting tight and back tense.

Definitely doesn't seem like the demeanor of a man intent on murdering them.

Satisfied, Daryl hurries back to the road. For a moment he's uneasy when he notices Aaron's tree is empty. But a few shuffling clicks up on the road alert him to where his partner has gone and he can breathe easy again once he sees that he's fine.

Aaron appears back on the asphalt of the road, framed between the car and the bike, he gestures towards where Licari abandoned his car and shakes his head.

Licari is alone.

Shoulder to shoulder, Daryl and Aaron march in full sight to where they left Licari, weapons drawn and ready. They find him just where Daryl left him, alone and hunkered down in the brush, watching the shack. He snaps to his feet when he hears them coming, eyes fierce against the barrel of Aaron's gun and the point of Daryl's crossbow. He doesn't seem too terribly surprised that they weren't in the shack, although maybe a little sheepish. His red face twists slightly into a snarl, but he doesn't bother to say anything to defend himself.

"Why are you following us, Licari?" asks Aaron, and it's a good thing he spoke up, because Daryl can't imagine himself ever posing that question to anyone without making it sound like he's ready to rip into them with teeth, arrow and bullet. Aaron's voice is calm, inquiring as if the matter is only of mild intellectual concern.

"…You two, show up out of nowhere," Licari grips his knife firmly in one hand, though he's gotta know it's practically useless to him under these conditions. "You especially," he cocks his head at Daryl. "Just expect us to trust you?" he bites.

"No," says Aaron softly and once again, Daryl can't help but think that Aaron has said exactly what he would, but that the man manages to say it in a better way, a way that isn't likely to start a fight. "We'd be worried if you did trust us so quickly."

Licari's lip curls a little, but he closes his eyes softly a moment and then says, "We want it to be true," making a visible effort to soften his tone, "But we don't know you."

"Fair enough," Aaron nods, "So, come with us now. Ask questions. Get to know us a little, if that's what you need to make a decision."

Snorting, for a minute it doesn't look like Licari is going to bite, "You never really get to know a girl on the first date."

"Either you followed to kill us, or you followed to learn more about us. Which is it?" Aaron gets right to the point, but still, somehow manages to make this statement without sounding confrontational.

In reply, Licari tilts his head down a little, looking at the dirt, pointedly putting his knife back in the sheath and holding out his empty hands, palms out.

Daryl lowers his crossbow, and beside him he can feel Aaron relaxing slightly as well. "C'mon," Daryl scoffs and gestures for both of them to follow him back to the road. "We'll save some gas by carpooling," he adds in a grumble.

After hiding Daryl's bike and Aaron's car, the three of them squeeze into Licari's truck. It's got more space in back for these supplies anyway. The mile drive to the farm is tense. There's a line of sweat that steadily gets replaced every few minutes after Licari brushes it away in annoyance. It's not that hot outside. Daryl can't help but wonder if the man has been around anybody besides his cop buddies in all the time after the world ended.

"The sixth member of your group, what's wrong with them?" Aaron took the passenger seat, so that he could watch Licari drive, from the back seat Daryl is determined not to speak at all unless it's to give directions.

"Gonna take a left up here," he mutters.

Licari spares each of them a glance, actually puts his turn signal on which makes Daryl raise an eyebrow at him. "We just found her yesterday, out in the woods." Licari explains, "she hasn't said more than two words to anyone but the doctor. Sounds like they knew each other... before. Not well. She's hurt, got a nasty cut on her arm and hasn't had a good meal in longer than she can remember."

In spite of himself, Daryl feels a prickling in his heart at hearing this. He hopes it's all true. Whatever mistakes they might've made, at least they're still trying to be good people. Some part of him contorts with guilt at this thought. How can they be anything but monsters.

"Says her name is Lily," Licari adds, "And that someone was following her… but the doc doubts it. She's been out there alone too long. Started to imagine things."

"End of that road, you can't miss it," Daryl gestures out the window, throat a little tight. Some part of him still wants to kill all of them. He takes a deep breath and tries to remember.

She said there were still good people. Don't walk away from the proof. But the only reason he ever believed that was because of her in the first place. It was so much easier to think of Licari and the others as a necessary evil. As a mission. They couldn't actually be the good people she was talking about. Not when they were the reason he lost her.

"Noah had some stuff to say 'bout your set-up at the hospital," Daryl hears himself speak up before he realizes that his anger has boiled over, past the point where he can just give directions and sit tight.

Licari looks a little pale at that, glances at Daryl in the rearview. Up ahead the Greene family farm is in sight. It tugs at Daryl a little and he has to glance away as they approach. It's like seeing an old friend, but all scarred up and bent out of shape. A ruin on the landscape.

"…Boy had some things to say 'bout how things worked at Grady." Truthfully, Noah didn't like to talk about it. He'd only said a handful of things about the year that he spent living as a slave for Dawn and her post-apocalyptic precinct, but Daryl could pick up on things. They kept weaker people around to serve them. They used people. They gave them shelter and food so they could survive, but only so that they would be tied to them. It was a sick system. "It ain't like that in Alexandria."

"Things are different now," Licari's voice falls quiet. Though his words take on a toneless quality, Daryl can still hear the weary sincerity in them. "Things have been different for a long time."

"Better be," mumbles Daryl.

The truck slows to a stop at the end of the driveway.

"It is," says Licari firmly, "It wasn't okay, how things were. But, Noah running—and everything that happened after we took Beth—"

"Don't talk about her." Daryl cuts Licari off sharply with a growl and opens his door, spilling out of the truck with his jaw and fists clenched. He marches a few strides away from the truck, trying to calm himself with a few deep draws.

The air is familiar, the scent of it and the way it feels washes over him. This was when it started to be okay, really. Sometimes, he thought about Rick showing up as the moment when the end of the world wasn't the end of Daryl Dixon, but Rick was still getting his footing as their leader, still mourning the loss of society, of law and order. Daryl never had those things, and after the world ended, life hadn't changed much, until Merle was gone. Then life collapsed for a while.

Daryl's life had never been okay. Up to the point that he came to the farm it was just one disaster after another, another punch to the gut ever since he was born. At the Greene family farm he'd had a purpose, first it was to find Sophia, then it was to help the group find itself. Feeling like someone needed him had been a new experience at the time. His whole life, no one had ever needed him. This farm felt different for a day or two.

Then it was gone.

The house feels tired and lonely, staring at him with broken windows through a termite-eaten front porch. He has to look away a moment to collect himself and then he sees it. Aaron and Licari already saw it, and are walking towards it.

There's a massive grave in the front lawn. Daryl isn't sure how he knows it's a grave, but there's just something about it that tells him there's bones underneath, probably a lot of bones.

Earth is piled up high and packed, dotted with heavy stones. It's been awhile since it was dug, that's clear. There's weeds and grass starting to work their way up over the mound.

"Some kind of mass grave?" Aaron looks to Daryl, expecting he'll know.

"Wasn't here before," Daryl admits. Looking around the lawn. This place was crawling with walkers last he was here, and they were plowing them down right and left. There should be bones scattered in the grass, but there's nothing. Someone cleaned it up.

It don't matter. She's dead.

It does matter. Swallowing, Daryl turns away from the grave and strides right up the breaking porch and towards the front door. It's shut, and under the heavy shadow he can see a message painted over the door.

BAD HEAD INJURY

ALONE

MIGHT DIE ANY DAY

TETHER MY ARM TO THE BED AT NIGHT

IN CASE I TURN

DON'T LET ME HURT ANYONE

Daryl stares at the strange request to be put down for almost a full minute while the other two come up behind him. He doesn't know how he feels about finding that someone else came and lived here after they left. It makes sense, the place is still mostly intact, compared to others, and it's nice and out-of-the-way, but a stranger making this place their home feels wrong. Besides that, there are practical issues to think about. What if they've used all the supplies? Ripped up the baby clothes for bandages?

Burned the photo albums.

Aaron reaches past Daryl and bangs loudly on the door, but there's no reply, from either human or walker. They wait long enough to decide there isn't a horde of walkers inside, ready to run for the door. Daryl opens the door, at the ready, but room by room they sweep the house and don't find any living or dead person. Aaron says the sheets in one upstairs beds are rumpled but not dusty. It's been slept in recently, but there's no other sign.

"Food should be in the basement, if there's anythin' left," grumbles Daryl.

"Come with me, Licari," Aaron motions him away from Daryl.

Daryl doesn't much like the idea of leaving Aaron alone with this guy, but Aaron isn't stupid, he must think he's got a handle on this. Daryl will just have to keep his ears keen, in case they're wrong about Licari.

In any case, Daryl needs a moment alone.

In the living room he finds an album already out on the coffee table. It's coated in dust. He wonders if someone pulled it out because of curiosity and then never put it back, before they succumbed to the bad head injury written about on the front door. He flips through the baby pictures quick, finally deciding that he might as well do the thing right, he starts to remove a few of them. Maggie will want them, he tells himself, but sometimes he wonders if that's true.

Maggie wants to survive, and sometimes it seems like she doesn't know how to do that unless she's looking forward. Always to the future, never the past.

Still, he removes a picture of her with her dad and her brother out by the duck pond, and another from her birthday with her stepmother's arms around her neck, where everyone seems happy.

Beth looks so young in most of these pictures, not like the woman he remembers. She's just a slip of a thing, a big pair of blue eyes with long blonde pigtails that end in curls. She's smiling in every picture, and it makes him feel warm to see that smile again, to think about what life must've been like for her before the world ended.

His world was always ugly, but for her, everything had been sweet, at least for a while. She'd had a good family that loved her, friends, horses, a big wide world full of possibilities, plenty to eat, a safe place to rest when she was tired. Nothing was coming for her.

Finally, near the back of the album he finds the most recent pictures. It's still not quite how he remembers her. She'd changed a lot in the few years after they left the farm. The girl in the picture is still living in a world where the dead stay dead, where her dad is around, and where there aren't any bullets with her name on them.

But he didn't imagine how beautiful she was. He didn't make that up. He didn't make up that clever little flash in her eyes either. The corner of his mouth tugs upwards, and in a moment he can barely see the image, his eyes blur out and he cusses.

It's never going to stop hurting.

Losing his brother had been akin to being run over by a truck. He could still remember that, but he learned to work through it. He learned to set it aside. Hershel too. That hurt like a son of a bitch. With effort, he could let him go.

But Beth. Something is different about losing her. It doesn't just hurt, it festers. Watching her fall tore a hole in his chest and still, it throbs. Sometimes, he imagines that it hurts worse than anything he's ever felt before. Maybe it does, or maybe his memory just isn't so good.

One thing is for sure. It will last.

He can't set her aside. Can't let her go. He shuffles together some pictures of the Greene family and puts them in the pocket of his satchel to give to Maggie when he gets back. He picks out the picture of Beth that he'll keep for himself from among the back pages of the album. She's standing out in the yard, back against the trunk of a white ash tree, smiling straight ahead at him, like she's got a beautiful life to look forward to.

"I'm not fighting it anymore." Beth talks to a broken mirror in the bathroom as she tries to make a plan. "I'm not. I wanna remember." Some part of it might be a lie. Ever since she remembered what happened to her parents and Shawn, she's been afraid to dig too deep, afraid that it will happen again, and that the memories will just pour over her during some vulnerable moment.

What about the baby? What if she had to watch sweet Judith die and there was nothing she could do about it? What about Daryl? What if he was torn apart in front of her like Patricia? What if she was too weak to save any of them. Beth grips the edge of the counter a moment and bites down a little too hard on her tongue, squeezing her eyes shut against the image in the cracked, filthy mirror. She hisses out a captive breath and backs away, releasing her grip. There's a thick layer of dust growing there. In the month that she's been away, more rain and winds have brought more of the elements into the house.

She can't remember much about Grady. But she doesn't want to, and somehow that seems to make a difference. She's remembered some things, gradually over the past several months, but most of it came back right away, in just the few days that followed her waking up. Sometimes, she thinks the things she lost might be gone forever. Sometimes she wonders if she's making some memories up.

But before she takes this leap, before she talks to the folks of Grady, she ought to remember as much as she can about who they were. If she can.

She could never really put down roots here, even though it was her home. She cleaned up the bones in the yard, because someone should put them to rest. She put things into just enough order that she could live here, without feeling like an animal, but she couldn't bring herself to do more than fix the broken front door, when it came to real repairs. She couldn't fix the roof, or the windows or tear down what was left of the barn. If she started working on the house, it would mean she was planning to stay. Alone.

You don't have to be alone. The woman she'd followed for days wasn't a predator. To a detrimental degree, she wasn't dangerous. The cops seemed to have changed, to the point that they might actually be helping her. Genuinely. Or, at least, Beth wanted to believe that was what was happening. It was more likely that they were carrying on their typical abusive ways, but she wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt.

If I watch them and they are good people, trying to do right, then what? Join them? Invite them to the farm? It wasn't exactly crazy, but it made her feel sick. Not just because of the kind of people they had been back when she knew them, but also, because it would feel like it meant she was giving up.

She'd searched for her family all this time and hadn't found any sign of them, besides one message from her sister, that wasn't intended for her. Maybe early on, if she'd joined up with Wanda and Hiatt, it wouldn't be so bad, but after months of being alone, and months of looking for them, to join someone else would feel like the end of her search.

I can't just pretend I never saw the Grady folks. But if they're good people I should join them, and I don't know if I want that, and if they're not then I should kill them, and I don't know if I want that either. Rubbing at her forehead, Beth goes to bed, finally, tying her wrist up to the bedpost out of habit. Just in case. After so many months she feels more and more confident each time she closes her eyes that she will open them again.

There's no hurry. Thoughts about the folks from Grady and the woman she followed keep drifting back to keep her mind from quieting down for the night. It will probably be days before that woman is in any condition to go anywhere. That camp looked fairly permanent. She can give herself a day to rest before she returns to stalk them. That won't be much of a risk.

A day to sleep. And think. Remember.

She has some jerkied deer in her pack and two full water bottles from the closest well, and she's holed up in her old bedroom. It's one of the last rooms in the house that still has the windows intact, even if the mirror in the bathroom is broken. There is nothing to keep her from staying curled up in bed for the whole day, except when she wakes up with a keen pinch in her bladder.

She jerks her boots on and grabs her pack and her handgun out of habit. She never leaves the house without all her supplies ready. Just in case she has to run again. She treks out a little ways into the woods, past where she hid her car, and finds a place to squat down. The whole farm is quiet and isolated. One of the first mistakes they'd made in the new world was to think that meant they were safe. They hadn't known about herds yet. Or about what losing everything would do to some people. She checks her car, more out of habit than anything, to make sure it's really as well hidden as she wants it to be and then she heads back to her room.

Sitting on the bed again, she almost has her boots off when she hears it.

A truck engine rumbles in the distance.

The sound is stacking against itself, rolling closer and at a steady rate. It's headed right for her. She yanks her boot back on and runs to the window.

"Shhi…" there's a truck, and with a whine in the back of her throat she can already see it's coming too fast. There's no way she can be properly gone before they get here. She'll have to lit out the back.

Grabbing her pack and her gun, she half falls down the stairs on light feet, just as the truck comes to a stop in front of the house. Trying to keep her movements quiet, she scurries towards the back of the house, silently making it to the back door just as she hears heavy boots coming up the creaking porch out front.

Once she's outside, she stays tight to the edge of the house, not wanting to run out in the open where they might see her. She couldn't see well enough into the truck to count how many of them there were. On careful tiptoes, she shuffles around the side of the house, as slowly as she can, trying not to breathe too loudly. It doesn't sound as though they've come into the house yet.

Her heart beats faster as she realizes that she can't hear them at all. Either they're standing very still for some reason, or they know she's there and are trying to creep up on her.

A loud BANG BANG makes her jump. It's coming from the front door. Silence follows and feeling more anxious she dares to turn glance around the corner of the house and catches a quick glimpse of three adult males before she sinks behind the corner of the house again. She barely saw them, but she saw enough to make her even more nervous. She barely saw a man dressed all in black step through the front door, he was mostly hidden in the shadow of the house. The other two waited at his back, flanking him. One, she could barely see, because he was mostly obscured by the large man with a muscular bearing who she was almost certain was Licari.

There's no one waiting in the truck that she can see. Just three men. It could be worse, but it's still bad enough to make her heart race. Three walkers is cake. Three live, grown, battle-hardened men? One of whom might not have such a sweet recollection of her? Better not to engage.

The quickest route to her car puts her in view of the truck. Just in case they do have someone else around, she doesn't want to make that run. Better to go the long way and stay out of sight.

As she hears the three men go into the house and start to clear it, she shuffles back the way she came, slowly.

They might not mean any harm. They might just be looking for supplies, looking for shelter. Maybe they wouldn't hurt her, but she won't risk it. Trying to be as ghost-like as possible, she glided slowly towards the back of the house again.

"Canned peaches," she hears what is definitely Licari's voice and jumps, startled by how close it is. Glancing down, she seems that she almost stepped right into the view of window beside the basement. Glancing back the way she's come she can see that there is a window on either side of her. She can't walk one way or the other without them seeing her.

Gritting her teeth, she backs up against the wall of the house and slides down into a sitting position, gun at the ready, just in case.

"Well, it's something," says another voice.

"When you guys said you had supplies nearby…" Licari trails off, doesn't sound like he's accusing, but there's definitely a question in there.

"It's really more of a personal pilgrimage," says the second voice; it's a milder, calmer presence than the brash Licari that she remembers.

"Is that why your friend needs some time alone?"

The milder voice takes a few minutes to reply and she can hear shuffling as they stuff the balance of the food storage into their packs. "I followed him for weeks before I ever spoke to his group." He pauses in filling his pack and she can hear him sigh before he goes on, "I didn't approach them until I knew they could be trusted, the same way I know that the night will fall, without exception to end every day. I don't feel that way about any of you. We're here, because he vouched for you, in spite of what you took from him. Don't forget that."

"I don't mean any disrespect to the man… you gotta understand, we've been led by three different people who lost their minds. I don't like watching sanity slip away from someone who's supposed to have my back, y'know? He can go on any personal pilgrimage he wants," Licari's voice gets clearer as he approaches the window and Beth budges up tighter against the wall. "But, I gotta look out for mine. If we're joining up with you guys, I need to know… is he taking us with him to crazy town? Are you sure he's okay? Are you sure he's stable?"

"Of course he's unstable," the milder man states with a depth of compassion that Beth hadn't expected. "I think we all are. That's how things work now."

"…Has he got a handle on it?"

"He's probably better at handling his instability than anyone left on this planet." There's a lighter tone in the man's voice, but his next statement carries weight again. "Don't talk about what happened. He doesn't talk about it. He's not ready. Tell all your people."

"Yeah, yeah…" Licari trails off, thoughtful. "I mean, I wondered, at the time. What she might've meant to him."

For several seconds the three of them are quiet, and Beth lets shallow breaths move in and out of her tense body, not daring to flinch in either direction in case Licari hears her, just inches away from the window.

"She meant everything."

In another minute she can hear them cleaning out the rest of the food. "Let's go," says Licari, "We can check the bedrooms upstairs. I think I saw some clothes."

Once their footfalls leave the basement, she skirts passed the window, but doesn't feel as eager to take off right away. Licari and the rest of the people from Grady are thinking of joining up with someone else? If they can move forward, if they can help people who need them, really help them, shouldn't she give them the benefit of the doubt?

She stops around the back of the house again and pauses in her flight, closing her eyes tight, she tries to remember what things were like at Grady. She only remembers being afraid and mistrustful of everyone. She remembers that some of the men used to abuse the female 'orderlies' their slaves. The really bad ones were Gorman and O'Donnell, both very dead, thanks to her. She doesn't remember hearing anything about Licari. He never treated her badly. Never really interacted with her much at all though.

And he didn't do anything to stop it.

It doesn't feel like the same group. He isn't talking about them like she would have imagined him talking about them back when she was there. Maybe she's reading too much into his concern for his group and the way that he scooped that woman up and carried her back to camp. Maybe.

Maybe not.

The thought still twists like a knife in her chest.

Licari might be alright. The folks from Grady might've changed.

The man with the mild voice seems alright. He's got so much confidence in his friend, all dressed in black with a bowed head trapped inside the shadows of her house.

I want my people. She lets out a whimper and covers her mouth. Beth hates being alone, but even if these guys don't seem so bad, they aren't her family.

They aren't Daryl.

Her heart throbs painfully inside of her ribs.

I wasn't happy at Grady. The last time I remember being happy… It was with him. She's sure of it. She's sure that he was the last bit of happiness she lost. Staring into the tree line, she wants to run, wants to get as far away from these people as possible and walk the world, looking for what's gone away.

Run away from home and never look back. She breathes out slow, overcome by a heady feeling like she's been crying for hours, though her eyes are dry.

Almost without realizing what she's doing, she turns towards the window, intending to look into her childhood home once more before she abandons it. I'm sorry. She can't make herself trust them. Can't imagine being with anyone else. Being alone isn't what she wants, but she's been doing it for so long, it feels comfortable. It's safe.

Decided on a course of action, Beth inches towards the window, to check and make sure the way is clear before she runs. The glass is broken between her and the inside of the house. She rises up on her tip-toes to look down the hallway towards the living room. Standing square under the light flooding in through another broken window, she sees the third man.

He's got his back to her, with his head bowed low. Hanging off his shoulders in stitches that she remembers with perfect detail, are a pair of angel's wings that she thought she'd lost.

Daryl lets Licari and Aaron go upstairs without him, mumbling something about how he'll keep watch, make sure no one approaches the house without them knowing it. It's not really necessary, but it'll give him the few more minutes he needs to quit grinding his teeth and bring his head down from a rolling boil to a simmer. He had to come back here, the same way that you've gotta re-break a bone that healed wrong. At least, that's how he thought about it a few hours ago, now that he's here, he's not so sure. This wound isn't healing, it's been almost eight months and he's still bleeding out in a steady trickle.

He doesn't need to consider why. He's had plenty of sleepless nights thinking about what he could've done differently, and about what things might be like if she had lived. If he hadn't let her get taken. If he hadn't let them kill her.

He's never been any good at this stuff anyway. On any level. Even now, he barely understands what he felt for her, and back when they were together, he had no idea how to take that feeling and turn it into something human, something she might understand. Even if he could've figured that part out, doubtless, he's shit at follow-through. He isn't the sort of person who looks to the future.

…Except that was exactly what she'd had him doing. The thing she's still got him doing. She made him hope again. Made him look into a better place, somewhere in the days ahead. Made him imagine himself there. With her.

He put her picture away too soon. He isn't done looking at her.

Pulling the picture out of his pocket again he falters a little as he unfolds the thick paper, finding her eyes immediately. His hands are steadier now, but his heart still trembles.

"Daryl!"

He definitely heard it, but it's impossible and for a moment the thought that he's finally lost his mind blows through even his instinct to turn towards the voice.

That's Beth Greene calling to you. She needs you. She'd called out to him before, because she needed his help. She'd said his name soft too, with a little laugh on her lips. He's heard her say his name in his dreams, and now it's real inside his head, just as he remembers it.

"DARYL DIXON!" The second time, his ears are buzzing same as his head and he whirls around just in time to see her come in through the back door. The woman he lost, eyes blue as shattering glass.

There's no reason, no thinking it through, no consideration that this house is haunted with the ghost of her, or that Licari might've snuck up and driven a knife up into the back of his skull and she's here to lead him through the veil.

All of those explanations come in flashes after he reacts, after his body succumbs to his soul's desire and he doesn't even care whether it's real or not. He wants to let it be real for however long he can. He closes the distance between his shaken body and the angel, crashing into her.

Already his knees give out underneath him, he pulls her down with him to the ground.

She's solid and warm and if possible, rocked worse than he is, trembling, as her arms slide over his shoulders. Pressing into his back as she tightens the embrace and sinks into him. Her fall of blonde hair comes over his eyes.

He presses his mouth into the curve of her shoulder, soft and smelling just like her, just as he remembers. Her strong fingers weave their way up the back of his neck and into his hair. His breathing is ragged and at first he can't bring himself to pull away from her skin, even to look at her again. He can hear her crying too, and clinging to him as tightly as he clings to her.

His heart beat pounds through both of them, and then he picks up her rhythm, feeling what it means, what he thought was long quiet. Her pulse matches his own as she's breathing all around him, fast and shallow, tears fall. She's alive. She's the same girl, the same soul he thought he's lost, with living flesh and blood, every bit of her and he can feel it for himself. She's all around him and coiled into his chest.

So many months she thought about seeing him again; would he be different? When the moment comes and she realizes it's really him standing there, she doesn't even consider how it's not like she imagined. She doesn't have time, because her feet are already running, impatient to get to him. Once she recognized him, she isn't in control of herself, she just cries out his name, as a whimper at first and then a shout, scrambling to get back into the house, to be with him.

It she'd had a little more presence of mind, she might've considered the dangers of surprising a man like that, but she didn't. She probably wouldn't have cared, even if she had given herself a minute, even if she was able to physically force herself to hold still and consider the situation for even a single heartbeat.

He looks different. His hair has gotten longer and seems more in the way than it ever was, and he way he holds himself seems somehow even more tense than she remembered, the sinew all through his back, neck and arms is like stone, and the look on his face crushes her soul; his stare is so hard. Then she meets those blue eyes, broken against her and it's like she can take her first real breath in months.

He rushes her, knocking her down and pulling her into his knees as he collapses on the floor with a crash. Kneeling into him, the only reason she doesn't topple off balance and into the wall is because he's holding her too tight. Forcing this newfound air right out of her lungs, as he gasps into her shoulder, arms constricting her ribs.

As firmly as he squeezes her, it's almost painful, showing just enough disregard for her comfort to make her feel certain that he indeed missed her. Her heart overflows with each rapid flutter, as she runs her nails over his scalp and down his back. It's really him. He's really here, or else her brain-damaged condition has somehow deteriorated to the point that she's having vivid hallucinations. Too vivid. Too perfectly, exactly as she remembers it. Holding him, feeling how he's locked around her, kneading against her with his hands.

She rubs her palms against his shoulders and back as well and down his arms, silently terrified he'll dissipate like smoke.

He pulls back and gradually his hands find their way up her neck and onto her face, growing more gentle though no less desperate as he takes a hold of her jaw, thumbs skating across her cheek and finally climbing up over her forehead, where Dawn marked her. His eyes are wide, and still glassy with tears, his mouth parts slightly, though he can't say anything.

Hands moving quick, he touches the tips of her lip sending a shiver down through her neck before he drops his fingers.

"You came home," she whispers, pushing his hair back, so she can better see his eyes, drinking her in like he was a man in the desert.

As a captive breath leaves him, his whole body relaxes against her, he closes his eyes and presses his forehead into hers "Yeah. I'm home."

So, way back when I still had confidence in the writers of this show and felt like I understood them, and I imagined Beth and Daryl reuniting at Grady, I was actually pretty sure it would be understated and subtle. It suited them at the time and it suited the situation, of course they took it to an unrealistic/retcon-esque degree, but whatever I'm only like really super bitter. However, this is a totally different situation. Finding each other unexpectedly? Him thinking she's dead and her thinking she's never going to see him again? Forget subtlety. Understated, my ass. There you go. That's how I think it would go down. Hugs, tears, tied-up tongues, and tender but borderline invasively touching. Like, a lot. Probably more than they realize or mean to.

Photograph – Ed Sheeran