I have no idea if anyone is still interested in this or not, but I think I'm ready to start writing again. I didn't have time to go back and read over what I'd already written so I'm sorry if there are lapses or things repeated. I did it to the best of my memory, which can be kind of hit or miss sometimes. lol

Thanks for reading. I hope to update regularly from now on.

Sidenote - I have no idea how hypnosis works. ;)

"You know, staring at that door like that won't make him walk through it any quicker," Carol told Beth.

Beth was leaning on the counter of the bookstore, wondering just how long Daryl was going to be. It was planned that she would go with Carol to her house if he wasn't back by closing time and it wasn't looking like he was going to make it back by then.

Sigh, she turned around and sat on the floor with Carol. She was unloading a shipment of books and Beth was supposed to be helping her. Working off the money she owed Carol for the clothes she'd bought her for Michonne's party had turned into a recurring thing. She enjoyed it for the most part. Occasionally she struggled with her inability to speak to people, but slowly she was working through it and Carol made sure no one gave Beth a hard time.

It had been hours and still no word from Daryl. He warned that he probably wouldn't be able to check in with her because there was little to no cell service until you were further down the mountain. He'd try to radio Jessie at the station and have Jessie call the bookstore. He didn't promise though.

"I know, I'm just worried."

Worrying was apparently in her nature. What if Daryl couldn't find the Sanctuary? What if he did find it? And if he did, what did it mean for her and him and everyone there. The danger mixed with the uncertainty involved brought her worrying to a whole new level.

"You should come to yoga with me sometime. It does wonders for the worried mind," Carol suggested.

Beth only smiled. She needed Daryl back safe and sound, that would help her worried mind.

"Y'all seem to be getting pretty cozy," Carol remarked, cutting open another box.

Trying unsuccessfully to push off her worry, Beth busied herself inputting the title of each book into a spreadsheet on Carol's laptop.

"He's been really kind to me," she answered evasively, heat rushing to her cheeks. She didn't need to look at Carol to know the look she was probably giving her in return. It was that motherly look that said she saw through Beth like a piece of glass.

Beth found it strange that she knew what that "motherly" look was considering she didn't even remember her own mother.

"I love him," Beth blurted. So much for being evasive. She couldn't help it, the words bubbled to the surface like lava in a volcano.

Carol froze, a large paperback in her hand. "Well. That was quick."

Beth dared a peek at Carol's face. That mischievous grin was there again making her relax marginally.

"Yeah, it is," she agreed. "But it's the only thing I'm sure about right now."

She probably shouldn't have said anything. She certainly didn't mean to. Carol had a way of bringing things out of her and there was no taking it back. Now that it was out in the open, she felt a little better.

Carol sat the book back in the box and moved from kneeling on the floor to sitting cross-legged, grunting as she did. "I guess it has been a few months," she decided. "I'm not one to judge, that's for sure."

Smiling as though she was truly happy for Beth, she said, "I'm happy for you two. He's one of the good ones."

Beth nodded. She'd attest to that. "Please don't tell him. I shouldn't have said anything. What do I know about love anyway? I know nothing."

"Consider my lips sealed. I'm sure you know more than you realize. The ability to love another person is one of those things you don't forget how to do. It just happens. Like breathing."

"I'm not so sure about that," Beth said more to herself than Carol.

She felt Carol's eyes on her for the next moment or so, watching as she entered book titles into the spreadsheet on the laptop. Finally, Carol said, "Can I ask you something?"

Beth nodded again, only guessing what Carol wanted to say; It's too soon. You don't really know him. You can't love him because I do.

"You really can't remember anything from your past?"

Though it wasn't an easy question, Beth was happy to be off the subject of the sad puppy love she had for Daryl. "Nope. I have glimpses here or there. Sometimes I'll remember something and then it'll fade away like a dream does in the morning. Other memories are just a part of me, like my skin or like the freckle that is on my right shoulder," Beth shook her head absently. "I remember the house I grew up in. I can feel the love those walls emitted."

Carol leaned over and patted her knee affectionately. "At least you have that."

"Yeah, each day my head feels a bit less foggy. The words come a little bit easier. The psychologist I see, he seems optimistic that I'll regain some of my memory."

"Interesting," Carol said, squinting her eyes.

Beth thought maybe Carol was being facetious but she quickly added, "I'm serious. I find the way the mind works fascinating. I was going to be a psychologist before, well, in another life."

"Why didn't you? What happened?"

"Ed happened," she said frowning. But then smiled. "And then came Sophia. And life just has a way of slipping by. I'm happy where I am now. But anyway," she said, pushing the thoughts away with the shake of a head. "Have you thought of trying hypnosis?"

"Hypnosis?" Beth moved the laptop from her lap, setting it on the floor, and grabbed the stack of books she'd just entered into the computer.

"Yeah, it can help bring up the memories your brain has hidden from you. I don't think anyone really forgets anything." Carol said. Standing, she followed Beth around the store as she put the books in their correct places on the shelves. "We just store it away."

"Oh umm, no, I've never thought of it."

"It's just communication with the unconscious mind," Carol explained as though it were that simple.

Beth laughed, "Oh is that all?"

Beth thought back to the conversation she had with Glenn when she told him she wasn't sure she wanted to remember. She was honest when she told him that. Not remembering would inevitably keep her mind stuck where it is. Stuck in the present. But was that so bad? The idea of change, just when she was getting used to her life as it is now, frightened her.

"Yeah, nothing to it," Carol joked, winking. "Hypnosis is one of the many things I've studied over the years. Among a million other useless things. Want to try it? Come on, It'll be fun," Carol encouraged. "And it might help. Aren't you the least bit curious about your past?"

Beth shelved the last book and faced Carol. "Of course I'm curious."

"There is no actual scientific proof that hypnosis works to regain memories anyway. If nothing, it'll help pass the time. So, what do you have to lose?"

Daryl laid on the frozen ground watching through a pair of binoculars as the people of what Beth described as the Sanctuary went about their business. A few men, even more women, and their children. They were all dressed similarly. White gowns, wool coats, boots. It was a strange get-up for the mountain weather. Just last week it had snowed and temps got down below the zero mark.

But they were there just as Beth said they would be. A few miles up the mountain from the Sutton's place. Not all that far from Merle's. It's no wonder no one knew they were there, they were so isolated behind the tree line. The main way in, blocked by a gate, was completely camouflaged by shrubbery. The whole enclosure blended in with the surrounding area. The only reason they found them at all was the telltale tendrils of smoke from their cabins chimneys.

"What do you think?" Daryl asked, handing the binoculars over to Michonne. They hid down an embankment a couple of hundred yards off. From there they could see almost the whole area. The hidden driveway, the cabins that were more like shacks. In the center, there was a large building that must serve as the hub of their little town as people entered and exited often in the short time they'd been watching.

A small structure stood off from the rest. Nicer and a little bit bigger, it was an actual cabin rather than a shack. Smoke billowed from the chimney. Two windows in the front and only one door as far as Daryl could see.

"I think they must be crazy living up here like this. It's freezing," Michonne said, looking through the binoculars. She was bundled up in what must have been four layers. Daryl made a mental note to tease her about it later.

"If I had to guess, there's got to be close to fifty people "

"Uh huh. And a lot of kids." He watched as the children ran around from one building to the other. Some played in the general area. The children did seem to be adequately dressed. He'd give them a point for that.

"You think we ought to pay them a visit?" Daryl needlessly asked.

Michonne handed the binoculars back to Daryl. "Hell yeah, I do."

"Deep breath in, deeper breath out. Every breath you take in, make it a little deeper. Just relax. Relax your shoulders. Focus on my voice. That's it breath in and out slowly."

In and out, how else am I supposed to breathe, Beth asked herself. Giggles bubbled up her throat and she tried to hold them back but couldn't.

"I'm sorry, Carol, I'm trying. In and out. Breathing."

Carol held back her own laughter and continued. "You are safe. Nothing can hurt you here. You are safe," she repeated. Carol's voice flowed like a gentle brook over smooth round rocks. "Now bring your full attention to the backs of your eyelids. Peer into the darkness. Relax your mind. Relax your forehead, relax your mouth, your jaw. Let the relaxation flow through your body, from the top of your head to your feet. Allow yourself to let go."

She trusted Carol and forced herself to do as she said. She took in deep breaths. She relaxed her body. Strangely she felt herself growing lethargic, her eyelids growing heavy. After some time her breath became shallow, relaxed. She felt as Carol picked up her right hand in her own, and let it fell back onto her knee. She was asleep, but not quite.

"Allow yourself to sink deeper and deeper. Deeper still." Beth's head began to nod, chin down, jaw lose. "That's it. Just let yourself sink down deeper. Good. Now in your mind, I want you to count backward from fifteen. Not just count but envision the numbers floating on the back of your eyelids as you count. With each count, the numbers will get smaller. With each number you will let go of another obstruction that is keeping your memories at bay. Don't be afraid," she said again. "You're going to view your memories from a distance. As though you're watching a movie. Let your unconscious mind come to the forefront."

Daryl drove the Bronco right up to their gate. It was no surprise when, after a few minutes, and they realized he wasn't leaving, two men came through the gate. They were young. Couldn't have been more than eighteen. They were both probably armed though their weapons weren't visible.

When one of the boys approached the driver's side door, Daryl rolled down his window smiled as amicably as he could muster. This took a lot of effort.

"Hello there. I'm Sheriff Dixon," he said, pointing to the badge on the sleeve of his coat. "This is Deputy Hawthorne." Daryl made a show of retrieving a small notebook from his pocket, reading the name. It was all unnecessary of course. He knew Negan's name. "Is there a Negan Smith on the premises?"

"Why do you need to know?" The boy asked, his voice shaking a little. He frowned, looked from Daryl to the other boy that stood at the front of the truck, hindering his entrance behind the brush-covered gate.

"Well, we found an abandoned car registered to him."

"We're guessing it was stolen and would like to return it to him," Michonne filled in.

The boy ducked his head, looking over Michonne. His eyes darkened slightly ominously. He palmed a two-way radio that was clipped onto his belt and spoke into it. A voice came back over the crackling radio waves.

"What the hell do ya' mean there's someone here to see Negan?" The voice sounded alarmed.

Daryl flashed to a scene in The Wizard of Oz he caught on television a few times as a kid. Back when there were only three channels to choose from. The screen was fuzzy and occasionally the image would flip. Nobody gets in to see the wizard. Not nobody, not no how.

"He says he's a sheriff. Says he found Negan's car."

The voice over the radio said he'd be there momentarily. The boy repeated it to Daryl. "He'll be here in a few."

"He who?" Daryl asked. "Negan?" Surely it wouldn't be that easy.

"No. Simon," he said as though Daryl knew who that was. He nodded, though. He'd wait for this Simon guy, see what he had to say.

"What's your name, son?" Daryl asked, trying to keep him talking.

The boy thought for a second, sent the other kid a look and when he nodded, he said, "Mark, that's Al." He was tall, wiry. Brown shaggy hair hung heavily around his face. He wore thick drug store-bought glasses. He looked harmless and Daryl wondered why they would put a couple of kids in charge of the gate.

"How long have ya' lived here for?" Daryl asked casually, taking a pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket, took one out and put it between his lips. He didn't light it though. Michonne would have a fit if he smoked with her in the truck. The taste of tobacco on his tongue made his mouth water.

Mark eyed Daryl uncertainly again. Thinking deeply. "Just 'bout my whole life."

"Really? How long is that? You're what? Seventeen? Eighteen?" Daryl asked conversationally. Calmly. Engaging him.

"Twenty."

"Damn, this place been here for how long then?" Daryl was genuinely surprised.

"I don't quite remember when I came here. I was young. Maybe seven."

"Just tell him your life story why dontcha?" This was from Al, speaking for the first time.

Before he could respond, the gate was pushed open just enough for a man with a mustache and receding hairline to walk through. Al backed away and the man stared Mark down and he stepped away too. The hierarchy was apparent. The boys were underneath this man.

"What's your business here?" he asked. Unlike the boys, the man had a gun clearly visible tucked into the waistband of his jeans.

"Just wanted to speak to Negan Smith. We have some information about a car that is registered to him."

The man spat on the ground, pushed his hair back off his head. "Sorry, ain't happenin'."

"And why's that?"

"'Cause he's busy. You tell me your business with him and I'll give him the message."

"You his messenger boy?" Daryl asked. He was only partly trying to get his goat. Unlike the boys, Daryl wasn't intimidated by him. The moment this man opened his mouth, Daryl's hackles rose. "What's your name?"

"Negan is a busy man, he don't have time for the likes of you."

"Well, ain't that fancy. But I am the sheriff," he told him.

"And I ain't gotta' to let you in."

Unfortunately, he was right. Unless he obtained a search warrant he couldn't go further than the driveway unless they invite him in and he doubted that would happen. But he wasn't going to give up that easily.

"How 'bout Mr. Negan comes out here?"

Before Simon had a chance to respond, the sound of an engine reverberated around them. Al opened the gate fully and a man rode up on a quad. He made a circle around the Bronco and parked just outside the gate facing towards the compound. Daryl took one look at Michonne and they both exited the vehicle.

Daryl was finally able to light that cigarette. "If I had to guess, I'd say you're the one and only Negan," Daryl said after taking a long drag and blowing the smoke up into the air. The smoke floated away on the wind.

The man took his time dismounting the quad. He wore a leather coat, which struck Daryl as odd. They were in the middle of nowhere and it was damn cold. The wardrobe choice was out of place. Even odder, he sported a red scarf tucked into the jacket.

There was a baseball bat attached to the handlebars on the front of the quad. The bat itself wasn't very alarming. It was the barbed wire that encircled it that put Daryl on edge.

He glanced at Michonne. She noticed it too.

"You'd be correct in your summation and you must be Sheriff Dixon. I've heard so much about you," Negan drawled, putting out a hand and shaking Daryl's. He blatantly ignored Michonne, so Daryl purposefully introduced her.

Not until Negan was forced, did he acknowledge her. "Well ain't you a breathtaking creature," he schmoozed. Taking her hand lightly. Daryl was afraid he'd try to kiss her knuckles. Thankfully he didn't. The last thing he wanted was for his deputy to, rightfully, pummel this chauvinistic dickhead.

"So, you found my car?"

Daryl had almost forgotten their ruse of the found car. "Uh-huh. It's impounded I'm afraid. You'll have to come to the department to sort it out and retrieve it."

Negan rolled a shoulder, flourished his hand. "I'll send someone to fetch it," he said casually.

Daryl pushed off the hood of the Bronco, walked up to where Negan. He stood with a foot propped up on the footboard of the quad, an arm resting on his knee. Looking past Negan, Daryl said, "I got to say, I grew up on this mountain and I didn't know anyone was up here. How long have y'all been here?"

"Oh, some years now," he answered vaguely.

"How many people you got living up here with you?"

"A few."

Okay, apparently he wasn't going to offer any information. "Listen, I'd like to come in. Take a look around. Make sure everything on the up and up," Daryl spoke honestly.

"Up and up? Why wouldn't things be on the up and up?" He asked with phoney offense.

"I don't know. But it's my job to make sure everyone is safe. It can't be easy living up here." This whole situation stunk to high heaven. He didn't trust Negan or his goons, even the young men. Period. Full stop.

"Let me reassure you. Everyone is safe and everyone is here of their own Lord-willing volition. Now if you'll excuse me, I got work to do."

Once the giggles had passed, Beth was able to settle down and focus on Carol's voice. It was a strange sensation. She was fully aware of where she was but she was in a foggy in-between state. She felt light, kind of like she was floating in a bubble. It was calming. She felt safe in that in-between bubble world.

She could hear Carol's voice, far off and distant, leading further into her subconscious.

Beth was somewhere else than the bookstore. She was sitting on the floor. She could feel the coolness of the wood planks underneath her legs. She was playing with a bowl and a wooden spoon, stirring some invisible concoction only known to her toddler self. She didn't know how she knew, but she was in the old farmhouse she grew up in. A woman was standing at a sink, humming softly. A boy ran through the back door, sending it slamming loudly closed. The woman at the sink hollered over her shoulder at the boy. She wasn't really mad though, she chuckled and shook her head lightheartedly.

A man, tall with greys streaking his dark hair, strolled in after the boy and bent to pick Beth up off the floor, swooping her up into his strong arms. Instantly she felt safe. Loved. He carried her over to the woman at the sink and gave her a warm kiss on the cheek.

Just as she knew the house, she knew this man and woman were her parents. Hershel and Annette.

Beth wanted to cry. And laugh. She didn't want to leave them. Part of her knew she was still in a dream-like hypnotic state, that it was only a memory. But how she wanted to remain in that memory with them.

Unfortunately, after a few too brief moments, she snapped awake. She was momentarily confused, like when you fall asleep on the couch in the middle of the afternoon and wake up having no idea what time of day it was.

She was disappointed to find herself back at Carol's bookstore. Inside, emotions swamped her, outwardly she kept it together. Wanting to keep that moment with her parents to herself, she said nothing. It was personal, it was all she had of them.

Carol looked at her expectantly. Beth hoped Carol wouldn't be disappointed when she said, "Well, that was weird. It was like a took a little nap."

"Remember anything new?" She asked.

"No. Sorry, I don't."

Carol smiled warmly and patted her leg. "That's fine."

"I feel lighter, I guess."

As silly as it sounded, she did feel lighter. She hadn't realized how tense her shoulders had been until the moment when they no longer felt heavy or hunched together. Her brow, constantly furrowed with worry, giving her a constant headache, relinquished its frown.

"Well, that's something I guess," Carol said. Beth agreed.