A/N: Please, be aware that you're reading a fan story that takes place in Walking Dead world, this chapter will cover some defense mechanisms that people sometimes delve into, so remember... This is Walking Dead. Be kindly warned.

PS. I think I also made an error with the location of Noah's home town, it was actually very far away from the church. I'll fix it later. Here it has the correct location.

XIX.

In the heart of the darkness, Beth sat on the muddy grounds and watched the rain. It was cold, almost freezing. The chill of the night was soaking into her bones, her clothes heavy and sodden, plastered on her skin. She was trembling but she wasn't sure it was because of the cold, or rain, or something else. It didn't hurt anymore, but felt foggy like she was under heavy drugs. Absently she raised her hand and rubbed her cheek, trying to get rid of blood over her skin. It seemed like a good idea. They'd all settled down in the clearing too, and each of them trying to come up with the reality that they were out of the wild again, without anything, strayed and lost. They'd stopped looking at her as the implications of what had happened set in, making her little scene a few hours ago unimportant, trivial.

It was trivial. Beth was trivial, even to her own sister. Her lips formed a small, bitter smile. That seemed to be a theme with her. Even Daryl had casted her off as trivial, something he couldn't bother even try to be different, didn't want to. He cared yes, even he'd admitted, cared for her in the ways more than he was supposed to, but at the end not that much… What was that movie she'd remembered at Grady—He's just not that into you... And he really wasn't.

It really didn't hurt anymore, though; it was as if she was out of her body and watching it happening to someone else. She would've said oh, poor thing and felt bad for the person if it'd been anyone else, but she didn't feel bad, either. She didn't feel anything at all. All things considered, Beth didn't mind it. It wasn't so bad…not feeling a thing.

Amanda walked back the clearing under the trees, her pace strong and decisive, her lips set in determination. She was in her no-nonsense pose, her shields raised up in defense, Beth could see. And even from where she sat under the faint moonlight in the rain, she could also see the angry finger prints at her neck where Rick had grabbed her. Then she felt it… a pang of guilt sipping through the numbness inside her at the sight, but she couldn't just open her mouth and say something—say she was sorry—say she didn't mean it—say that she didn't really think Amanda would have done such a thing. It'd just happened, and she even didn't know why she'd done it. Was she angry? Hurt? It was hurting then, she remembered. Had she just channeled her resentment of hearing about Maggie and the rejection of Daryl on Amanda? She'd felt hollow, empty, but also…betrayed, she realized, with no remorse. But it wasn't because of Amanda. Now she'd broken the against-at-all-odds friendship she'd managed to form with the policewoman, too. She didn't mean it but admitting it sounding bad to even her own ears, and she wasn't sure if Amanda would like to hear it, as well.

"Where is he?" Amanda asked, not looking at Rick nor at her, only looking straight ahead, "I'm gonna do it."

Rick shook his head. Beth wondered if Rick felt that pang of guilt, too, because she knew he'd broken Amanda's fragile trust in him, too, and how the older woman kept wandering around the whole day, keeping saying Rick would do this and that… A part of her still knew that Amanda earned the distrust she had been showed up with after all the machinations she had done since she'd come here, and even before that at the hospital, but still it felt wrong. But it didn't hurt now, she understood, it was just…the way things were now in this world. Family, love, friendship… they meant nothing.

"It's okay," Rick told Amanda, placid and unapologetic as ever, "I'll do."

Finally turning to him, Amanda gave him a seething look. "I said I'm gonna do it."

Rick walked to her, "Amanda, look—"

Cutting him off, Amanda took her gun in her hand, "I'm gonna do it."

Rick simply nodded then. "Okay."

Beth knew what they were talking about. Lamson was dead, got bitten by the walkers, and someone had to deal with him before he turned on.

Deal with him… such a wording for such a thing.

But she guessed they were just doing it, dealing with the stuff they'd been handed with. There was only staying alive and Beth was just a girl who was trying not to die in the apocalypse. It was even stupid of her thinking she could be…more. Thinking they could be more.

A single shot came in the distance a couple of minutes later, and Amanda walked back a minutes later than it, and Beth couldn't be sure if it was rain on her cheeks or tears. At the end, she decided it didn't differ, they all looked the same.

They all looked the same for that matter. Stranded at the wilderness, lost in the darkness, and it was the end of the world. She lay down on the mud, trembling, her insides still feeling numb. Rick and Tyreese had started to dig another grave, for another person they had lost. She'd never known Lamson for real, but no one deserved such a fate. It made no difference at all; it was all their fate now.

She saw a pair of boots at the level of her eyes, a familiar pair of boots, then smelled the familiar scent of leather—as familiar sight of angel wings caught at her as the vest was draped over her. She shrugged it off, falling it into the mud paddle in front of her, but didn't lift her eyes to look up at him.

She had no desires to see him now. She didn't want anything of his, either. She just wanted him gone, wanted him to leave her alone.

But she couldn't even bring herself to care to say it aloud. So she just kept looking ahead at his boots, hoping it would be enough, and after a few seconds reading the dismissive gesture, Daryl turned back, not making a sound, not even a protest. Again, she watched him as he walked away from her.

And she swore it was the last time she watched anyone she cared walking away from her. She wasn't going to make the same mistake again.

Maggie came later, too, and she was much more persistent, openly crying even in the rain—begging—imploring— "Please, Beth—just please—let me explain…"

She was only half listening—There was a tune in her mind, a long forgotten tune turning under the hazy fog, something familiar… something she'd hummed herself before… before… a tune about the end and friends—and waiting for the summer rain… She watched the rain, trying to hum it to herself as she kept looking at her boots as Maggie kept talking, trembling under the rain… She was a life size flesh and blood doll… and now she was put down in a box, lying listless in the dark after the playing was done.

The woman she once called sister's pleadings in her ears, and the long forgotten tune in her mind, Beth closed her eyes, and went to sleep.

# # #

"How could you?" Maggie screamed at him, trying to get him, glazed blue eyes reddened from crying, her cheeks stained with dirt, blood, and tears. "How could you tell her?"

"Tell her what?" Daryl snapped at her back, closing in on her, "The truth? The truth that you never looked for her?" He waved his arm at her, "Never cared!"

"It wasn't like that!" Maggie screamed again, and Daryl took another step in.

"Then how was it?" he hissed at her.

He was angry—so angry at himself—so much in guilt, and Maggie was trying her chances. Rick came in between them. "It isn't time for this," he warned, putting a hand on his chest to push him back, "We gotta decide what to do."

Come morning, they were still in the clearing, damn sodden down to their skin, desperate, and angry. The rain had stopped but the grounds were still covered with earthy mud. The morning frost was even worse than the night's chill, the wilderness around them covered with a pale thin frost. Though, sun seemed to be clear in the sky, so it wouldn't at least rain, but it also meant in the day they were going to be soaked up with sweat, but by night trembling with chill. In his mind, Beth's trembling figure appeared, and the way she shook off his vest off of her, her eyes fixated ahead, not looking at him. You're dead to me, she had said to Maggie, but somehow he knew they were also directed at him. Her voice was cold, distant, like she was worlds apart from them, from him.

What the fuck he had done?

Just the thing he'd been trying to protect her from. He'd broken her, just he tried to make her see why he was so wrong for her, he proved his point. He hadn't wanted to tell her about Maggie, he never wanted to—he'd been trying to keep it secret from her since she was back with them. It'd just come out of him on its own—because he was really the only one she got—and she had to see it, she had to understand why this thing between them couldn't be, had to understand why it wouldn't work.

And he was bitter, even he hated to admit it but he was bitter because he knew this shithole world was the only possibility that he actually had a chance with her. Daryl Dixon could only be with someone like Beth Greene just because they were at the end of the world, and she got no one else. It was bad enough to admit that this rotten fucking world infested with rotters were actually better than what he'd had before, admitting that he'd been nobody before, just an asshole drifting away with his bigger asshole brother, and it'd angered him, the way it angered him how she'd thought of him a jailbird, because he must have been that man, right? And he'd proved her that he was exactly that man.

A bitter vindictive old redneck asshole.

"We just lost everything," Tyreese said, shaking his head, "What are we going to do?"

Rick leveled at them a hard look, wandering his eyes at each of them, "what we always do. We'll find a place and start over. We're still together," he told them firmly, deliberate on what was important.

We're still together…

Were they? Beth wouldn't even look at him now, had never lifted her head at Maggie despite all the begging the older woman had made to her last night. She just had acted like her big sister didn't exist anymore, her cries falling on deaf ears before she slept. Maggie kept begging at her whole night, and Beth just slept through it.

She didn't even try to talk to Shepherd after what happened—didn't even try to apologize. It wasn't like Beth, either. She could feel at least regret for what had almost happened, Shepherd was looking like dead walking too, distant and frost, but Beth ignored her all the same, too.

One part of him wanted to go to there, wanted to talk to her—wanted to shake her off this apathy, but he couldn't. He had to keep away. He had to let her work it out. He'd caused this, and he couldn't redeem what had happened with words, couldn't rewind the past… The guilt was there, like always, weighing him down, sticky and ashes in his mouth, and inside in his head the little voices were screaming at him… This's the man you're… a bitter vindictive old redneck asshole.

He had to go…he had to go—He needed to get away—take a break. This was too much for him. He didn't want things to go like this. He never wanted to hurt her. Never.

His eyes skipped and he saw her lying on the ground again, asleep, like a wounded soaked wild animal in the forest— and for a moment, Daryl really hated himself… he really did… "Noah's town," Rick continued, "We can check it. I was thinking of taking a car and go to see it with Noah. We can still do it."

"No," Shepherd's taciturn voice said behind them. They turned and saw her approaching them, that grim but decisive expression over her face. "No," she repeated with the same tone, walking to Rick, her head raised high, prepared. Daryl knew what was coming then.

"Noah's one of my own, he stayed at the hospital. I am taking him," she declared, giving Rick a hard look in challenge, "I'm done with this place. I'm done with you people. We're leaving."

Rick stared at her back long, then started walking to her, "Amanda-it's not good idea," he said, "I know—"

She cut him off, "I said we're leaving. I'm done with playing nice." She unclicked her gun's holster and placed her hand on it, "Don't try to stop me."

Rick shot a glance below at her hip in answer first, the turned his eyes at her. He didn't make a move though, not reach to his gun, but Daryl had seen the man acting so abruptly in the exact position so many times before, he knew if Amanda decided to bring things further, she didn't stand a chance. "We know where the town is, Noah already told me," Rick reminded her, "We can still go up there."

"Then I'll just tell them what kind of people you are," she snarled at him, not backing down, her hand still on her gun.

Rick let out a laugh at that, "And what kind of people are you, Amanda Shepherd?"

She rose on her feet to snap at his face, "Not the kind that strangles people without a reason!"

"Without a reason? C'mon, gimme me a break!" Rick cried out incredulous, leaning in on her further, "You smiled!" he rasped at her angrily, "I asked if it was you—you fucking smiled at me!"

Shepherd flinched back, a frown over her brows. "I—I wasn't smiling—"

She was. She had smiled at Rick with that damn smile, that got your under skin, made you crawl. Daryl had seen it, so had everyone, so Daryl couldn't really understand why she was lying now.

"Look, if you want to go, go. I won't stop you," Rick told her then, sounding tired but still frustrated, "But it's harsh on the road, you know it. You want to take them all by yourself to up there, more than five hundreds miles? What if your tires got broken or had trouble with motor—what if you got stranded on the road—three women who can barely hold a knife, Noah, and you—you know what I'm talking about." Hesitancy broke over her decisive features, and mercilessly Rick pressed on, "You'll get yourself killed or worse. Come with me, we go together, then we pretend we've never seen each other."

Looking at him for a full minute, Shepherd finally pulled her hand back from her gun. "Fine. We go together. Then we're done."

Rick nodded stiffly, and repeated, "Never seen each other."

"Good," she bit off, and turned to walk off.

# # #

"I'll come with you," Beth said as they prepared the car to leave for Shirewilt Estate. Straightening from the back of the car, Amanda looked at her coolly then shook her head, "No."

"Yes, I will—" Beth said back, "It was me who first promised Noah to take him back to home." She turned to Rick, "I gotta be there."

More else, she had to be somewhere away from Daryl and Maggie, but she didn't tell him that. Rick had charged Daryl and Carol to keep the rest of the group following them as he went with Amanda to Noah' his home town ahead. Instead of staying with them, Beth opted to go with Rick and Amanda. Rick and Amanda at least only gave silent glares at each other, but not try to talk over what had happened.

Amanda was ignoring her own existence, like Beth did to Maggie, but Beth was okay with that. She wasn't looking at Beth like with eyes like she'd fucked things up beyond repair like Daryl did when he thought she wasn't looking—his eyes heavy with guilt and self-hatred, and she hated it seeing them, and Maggie's cries were grating on her nerves. She just wanted to be away from them, and Amanda ignoring her worked just fine for Beth. It looked like the policewoman had lost all hope on them, and Beth knew she had a point. You should never depend on anyone but yourself.

She wondered how this ignoring each other would work at the end, but she hope at the estate in the Virginia would at least work a bit better, Noah had said it was a spacious community, a wealthy part of the countryside with good walls and enough room for people, and he also said they got only twenty or more people, maybe it would really work, and they could pretend they had never seen each other, like Amanda had demanded.

Oh, Beth had heard that part, too. Amanda and Rick weren't on the talking terms, but the rest of them were talking about it… when they thought they weren't in their earshot. Beth had even heard once the redhead military guy—Abraham—having a bet with his girlfriend on when they would do it. Beth wondered briefly how Michonne would feel hearing about those, would care at all. At the end, she ignored them, like how she'd ignored the talks about her and Daryl. Yes, she had heard those, too. Everyone seemed like knew what had happened between her and Daryl, as well, his rejection and the following fight, but pretending the otherwise, of course, too, and the vaudeville continued… They were some family, indeed.

She needed to change of scenery, perhaps a new state would give it to her. New people, a new place… she could be just a stranger then, whispers behind her back would stop… not that she cared, but she was just…tired—tired of hearing them.

"Fine," Amanda snapped, closing the trunk with a thud, "Do whatever you want. I don't care."

Beth knew she cared, but didn't feel like objecting her… perhaps she herself just didn't care that much, either. That was what this apocalypse turned them into; flesh-and-blood life size puppets, with a mind only for staying alive, doing everything half way down, not getting themselves caring that much. Maggie loved her, but just not that much, Daryl cared for her, but not that much… Your two boyfriends died and you wouldn't even shed a tear.

Funny enough, there were still no tears in her, crying seemed to her…almost pointless now. Meaningless. Life itself was…meaningless. Her hand suddenly found her left wrist, and she felt the broken skin under her fingers, scars running over the length of it— She snapped her hand away as if the contact burned her.

The world—the world started turning around her, she felt like she was sucking into a wilderness of pain…and there was a tune in her head, a long forgotten tune—about the end and friends—and waiting for the summer rain… the tune she had whispered at herself at night in her bed before she cut up her wrists… but it was fleeing from her—the world was fleeing from her—and she wanted to catch it—she didn't want it to end, not yet—still not yet—but she just couldn't remember it—

Her hand on instinct found the tip of the scissor she still hid in her sleeve. Turning on her heels, she walked off from them, and found herself a spot she could be alone as lonely as she felt. Then, taking the scissor in her hands, she looked at it, long and hard, she looked it… She rolled up her sleeve—and tentatively, almost gently, she pressed the tip of the scissor on her skin…

Then she remembered it… the tune…. She started humming it… This is the end, beautiful friend, this is the end, my only friend… the end… of elaborate plans, the end, no safety or surprise, the end… I'll never look into your eyes again…

She pushed the scissor down into her skin.

Pain—it rode through her body, through her soul… like a wildfire, and she pushed more—harder, feeling the blood starting running over her skin… She closed her eyes, breathing heavily, hissing with pain—then she welcomed it, she welcomed the pain. Pain didn't hurt anymore, no more.

Pain was good. Pain reminded her she was still there, she was still alive, and this was not the end, and her time hadn't still come yet.

Not yet.

Opening her eyes, Beth made another slash.

So yeah, Beth's journey continues. I think there are some grounds that any willing writer would uncover how Beth found her will to survive after her suicide attempt, so I can totally picture her self-harming herself just because to make herself remember that feeling again... Besides, for me Beth's death in canon only brought one good thing to see, and that was Daryl's way of dealing with his pain, remember that scene with the cigarette? So, needless to say, when he sees Beth in that way... Well, couldn't let the possibilities go wasted.

This is not an angst story, though. Be sure of that, please. I don't like watching, reading, or writing people wallowing in misery, moping every minute-even in Walking Dead. I just like the journey. Hope you'll stay with me.

The song Beth hummed is The Doors-The End. Suits just perfect.