Thanks to everyone who is still interested and read and left a comment. :) I so appreciate it.

The memory generated by the hypnosis weighed heavily on Beth, more than she let on to Carol. She did her best to ignore the emotions it brought up. She finished up the computer work Carol had for her, she straightened shelves, dusted, swept she wandered around the store, made small talk with a Rosita when she came in to gossip, not shop for books. She made a fresh batch of coffee. She didn't like the stuff and wasn't sure how she knew how to make it but Carol claimed she 'made a good cup'.

In a corner in the back of the store next to a large window overlooking the town square, a comfy chair was set up. A guitar was propped in the corner next to some books casually stacked into a short tower. She'd noticed it before and her fingers tingled each time she neared it. She ignored the feeling. Today, though, it was harder to ignore. Gently, almost reverently, she ran her fingers down the smooth wood of the side of the neck, over the fret. It made a small squeak of a sound, vibrating under her forefinger.

"You know how to play?" Carol questioned startling Beth. She hadn't realized she was standing behind her.

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"Well, only one way to find out," Carol encouraged, giving her a slight nudge to the ribs with her elbow before moving on.

Slowly, as though she were moving through mud, Beth took the guitar in her hands and sat on the edge of the chair. Unexpectedly, her fingers went to the correct places and she began strumming lightly. It quickly went from clumsy sounding randomness to melodious. What her mind didn't seem to remember, her hands did.

Soon her throat vibrated with unsung words and she began to hum. The humming turned into words. Soon she was playing and singing songs she didn't know she knew. The words, the music that flowed through her, was comforting. It eased the ache in her chest, it stifled her worry.

Daryl arrived when she was midway through her third song. At first, he thought they had the radio going, then realized he recognized the voice. He followed it to the back of the store and sure enough, there was Beth not only signing but playing the guitar as well.

He stood back, listening. He had no idea what she sang, he only knew it was giving him that uneasy feeling in his gut. The same feeling he got when she smiled at him or kissed him, or when her gaze held his a heartbeat longer than it needed to. It wasn't a bad uneasy feeling, just one he hadn't experienced up to this point in his life.

Beth sang lightly but clearly.

I could possibly be fading
Or have something more to gain
I could feel myself growing colder
I could feel myself under your fate
Under your fate

It was you
Breathless and torn
I could feel my eyes turning into dust
And two strangers
Turning into dust

That uneasy feeling was quickly, and surprisingly, replaced with anger. Anger that she had to spend any time with that slimy heathen disguised as a good guy, Negan. The idea Negan might have touched her, even with the slightest brush of his pinky finger made him furious. He wasn't going to let this sick bastard get away with whatever it was he was doing. Daryl didn't know the extent of it but he was determined to figure it out and throw every law at his disposal at him.

Beth looked up, surprised and a little embarrassed, her cheeks flushing. The relief she felt seeing him overrode the embarrassment. She stopped playing and put the guitar to the side, stood and went straight to him, into his arms. His heartbeat loud and strong under her ear.

"I didn't know you played," he said, lips pressed to the top of her head.

Beth smiled shyly. "I didn't either until I saw the guitar, sat down and started to play." Maybe it was the hypnosis. Maybe it wasn't. The ability was there though. She wondered what else was hidden deep down waiting to resurface.

It was exciting. And terrifying.

"Well, I'm glad you do." Her voice did things to his body he didn't understand.

They were home and starting dinner before either had the nerve or energy to speak about the day. A part of Beth didn't want to know. They could just go about their evening, pretend nothing happened. They'd eat dinner, watch television. Go to bed. Make love. That wouldn't make it all go away though and she was too curious not to ask.

"How'd today go? Did you find the Sanctuary?" She guessed he did since he was gone so long.

He nodded, chopping the browning hamburger meat in a pan on the stove with a spatula. "We did. Pretty easily too. It's not too far from Merle's."

Beth didn't realize how much she'd hoped he didn't find it up until that moment.

"Did you talk to him?" She didn't want to say Negan's name. She busied herself trying to open a can of Sloppy Joe with an uncooperative can opener.

Daryl took the can and opener from her. Opened it with ease.

"Yeah, I did. I didn't find out anything pertinent. He wouldn't let me past the gate. Even though we found it easily, he's well hidden up there. I probably only found it 'cause I grew up there. I don't know how you managed to make it as far as you did. Barefoot and in the cold."

"I don't know either," she answered quietly.

He moved the pan off the burner and shut it off, and went to her. He placed a hand around the back of her neck, feeling the coolness of his hand against the heat of her skin. "What were you running from? I mean, I know you wanted to get away from Negan. But, barefoot and in the middle of the night?"

"I took my shot. We, especially Negan's future wives, were watched closely. I found myself alone and I took off. Wasn't very smart, I know."

"Na. You did what you had ta'. And I'm glad you did." He smiled. "If he's doing something illegal, I need to know what it is. You're the only witness I got."

Even though she was with Daryl, quite possibly the safest place in the world, cold shivered down her back. She hated how her voice quivered when she spoke about Negan. Clearly, she was still afraid of him. "Remember when I told you about all the babies being born?"

Daryl nodded as she slipped from his grasp and sunk down into one of the kitchen chairs. She didn't want to talk about it. Couldn't they just stay in their little blissful bubble?

"They were all his?" Daryl remembered her telling him as much. He hoped it wasn't true, but Beth was there, lived it for years. She knew better than he did.

She took a long shaky breath. "Yes. All the babies that were born since I came there, as far as I know, were Negan's. From various wives. He was married a long time ago to a woman who died. He never legally married again. He said that marriage is a construct made by the government to keep tabs on everyone. He said he only needed God's permission to consummate a marriage. God told him who he should marry."

Daryl could taste the disgust he felt for Negan in his mouth. "How old were his wives?" He asked, leaning against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.

"All different ages. I'm almost positive they were all of legal age. Negan's crazy but he's not stupid."

"Well, the age of consent is sixteen. So unless anyone was under that age," he let the implication hang in the air. He had to find something tangible to nail Negan against the wall.

After a moment of silence, Beth spoke again. "I was next in line to be his wife. That's why I ran. I'm ashamed to say at one time I wanted to be one of his wives. It would have been an honor. As time went on, I began to loathe Negan and what he stood for. I saw him for who he really was. As a self-indulgent conman. I was afraid to marry him, to become his next baby making factory. So I ran." She rubbed her hands over her face in frustration. "God, I'm such a coward."

"Hey now," Daryl took the two steps to her, squatted down to be face to face. "You are not a coward."

"I left. Out of all the atrocities Negan committed and abuse he projected onto his people, I left because I was going to be his wife. I was selfish."

"That's bullshit. You couldn't take everyone with you, could ya'?" He asked, forcing her to make eye contact with him.

"But still," she argued weakly.

"You didn't do anything wrong, let's get that straight right now." He cupped her chin with his finger and thumb. "Now's your chance to help the people that are still there. Tell me what you know and we can use it against him."

Beth said those three tiny words that meant so much aloud only when Daryl wasn't listening. When he couldn't hear her. The words just above a whisper. Nothing more than a breath, really. A sigh.

I love you.

It wasn't any wonder why she couldn't say the words out loud. She'd lived a fallacy for years. Negan claimed his love for the Saviors. It was just another ploy to retain control. Negan loved no one but himself. She was embarrassed to say she thought she loved him at one time. If that was love, then she didn't want any part of it.

It was best to keep her feelings for Daryl under wraps. A secret only she knew. Could she really trust her feelings anyway? She stumbled out of a cult and the first man she came into contact with she falls in love with. It was completely absurd.

She may not trust herself, but she trusted Daryl. So, she told him what she could about the Sanctuary. Everything she remembered anyway.

About Negan's increasing slip on reality. About the wives. How she had been there for years until he deemed her worthy and she realized becoming Negan's wife was one of the last things she wanted. She told Daryl about the babies that were born and how the children were the bright light in the alternate universe they lived in.

She told him about the baby that may have some sort of cognitive issues because she was deprived of oxygen during birth and how Negan flippantly said to get rid of her. How she lied to save the baby's life and said the baby was perfectly fine, even though Beth had no way of knowing.

She told him about the child they'd lost the winter before. He probably would have made it if they'd been allowed basic antibiotics. She expressed the grief and guilt she felt not leaving right then and taking the boy with her.

Daryl reasoned how impossible that would have been. Even if she was able to get the boy away from his mother and past Negan and Simon and everyone else, taking a sick boy out into the cold wilderness was less than ideal. He probably wouldn't have made the trek to town, not to mention that'd be kidnapping.

Beth wouldn't hear of it though. She should have tried harder. She begged the boys' mother to implore Negan to allow them to take him to the town. The mother wouldn't allow it. And when Beth went to Negan herself, he wouldn't even consider it. It could mess up everything they had and, to Negan, sometimes you have to sacrifice one for the whole.

At that point, she was already questioning her loyalty to Negan. She could look past a lot of things, this wasn't one of them. She'd never be able to forgive herself for some things no matter what Daryl said, no matter how he tried to convince her.

She was sure to emphasize that the people there were not bad. They were misguided. They were brainwashed, plain and simple.

She and Daryl stayed up all night. Talking, talking, talking and when she could no longer talk about Negan or the Sanctuary, Daryl took her to bed. Even after all she told him, he still seemed to feel the same about her. He stripped her of all her clothes and brought her to bliss, forcing all the bad out of her mind. Making her feel something other than worthlessness.

There was something nagging Glenn about Angel that wouldn't go away. Maybe it was her situation. Though he'd seen worse cases than hers. Dissociative amnesia was serious but she wasn't physically harmed. Didn't appear to have any substance abuse problems and was currently in a safe environment.

She was more forthcoming than she had been at first, yet understandably still standoffish. He didn't blame her. She was protecting herself which was that basis dissociative disorder. Dissociative amnesia is frequently associated with previous experiences of trauma. What exactly that trauma was, he wasn't sure.

She was unsure about her new place in the world, that much was obvious. Unsure about him and herself and the situation she found herself to be in.

During their sessions, he found it increasingly hard to focus. There was a familiarity about her. The way she rolled a shoulder. Or tucked her hair behind an ear. The way she worded things.

Other times she was once again a stranger and he'd think he was imagining it. She was a kind, intelligent person. He could see how someone like hers could get caught up with a "cult". Cult - her word, not his. To be considered an actual cult it has to meet certain criteria and he didn't know enough about it yet.

But plenty of people found themselves in unfortunate situations. Bad marriages. Bad jobs. Sometimes they were influenced by bad people. It didn't mean they themselves were bad. Most of the time people were searching for something more. Other times, they were trying to escape their lives for a million different reasons.

Why she left her life and family remained to be seen. He forced himself to forget whatever it was that gnawed at him and do the job he was there to do, which was to help her.

"It sounds like you're making progress. Remembering how to play the guitar, opening up more to the sheriff. And the bookshop owner? Carol."

While Beth liked Glenn, she'd much rather not discuss any of this, she knew it was best for her. With each appointment, she was able to share a bit more about what she remembered.

"If you're comfortable, can you tell me the first thing you remember after coming to the Sanctuary? Or, maybe what you felt while you were there before you became disenfranchised?"

She thought for some time, racking her brain, trying to remember.

"I remember being happy." She grimaced. It pained her to say so. She didn't want to remember the Sanctuary as being a good place. But it wasn't all bad all of the time.

She looked down at her fingertips, now calloused over because of her almost daily guitar practice at the bookstore. She worked there for a few days a week doing odd jobs and even started working the register on occasion, though it still made her nervous to talk to those that came into the store that she didn't know. During slow times, she'd play in the little corner in the back.

"Why does that upset you?" Glenn asked. Always perceptive of her moods. "Why does it upset you to say you were happy?"

"Because it's a horrible place."

He leaned forward in his chair. "But," he began, "you didn't know that at first. So, let's go with that, without any judgment. What was it about the Sanctuary that made you happy?"

How was she not supposed to judge herself? It wasn't that easy. She didn't think she deserved forgiveness.

"Everyone was working together toward a similar goal."

"What goal was that?"

"To sustain Negan's vision of a life away from the depravity of the world," she said using Negan's exact words.

"Tell me about it," he said, encouraging her to continue.

"About the Sanctuary?"

She wasn't sure she could put it into words. She didn't remember the day she came there, she only remembered being suddenly a part of the community sometime later.

"Yes, the Sanctuary," he clarified, steering clear of Negan for the time being.

Beth thought back:

It was midsummer and stifling, even up in the mountains. Despite the heat, smoke bellowed out of the chimney of the main building. The main building was where the communal kitchen was located and where they ate. Negan's meetings were conducted there.

Some of the members grumbled to each other about the meetings, Beth had enjoyed the few she had attended so far. She swore Negan was speaking directly to her as he stood front and center. She was captivated by his words.

It was similar to the hippie communes she'd seen online and on television shows, but not quite. The women wore ankle length white gowns, most were barefoot. The men wore navy work pants and white t-shirts. And the children, so many of them, ran around half naked, playing in the dirt, having fun. Beth wasn't sure how long it was before she realized most of the children were Negan's. They all called him Papa. She thought it was a term of endearment.

Being new she wanted to fully immerse herself in her new life and dove headfirst into the group. Helping out wherever needed on top of the duties she was initially assigned to, which was laundry duty. Everyone loathed it. The job was given to newcomers, hoping to weed out the weak and to break the strong-willed. It was also assigned as punishment to those who had disobeyed the rules one way or another.

Large cauldron-like pots were set up on campfire stoves. In the summer heat, her hair would be drenched within a few minutes of stirring the linens and clothing in the boiling hot water. She happily did it. She kept her head down and worked hard as though it was the most important job.

"And it was an important job in its own way. People need clean clothes, right?" Glenn asked.

She smiled a little. "I guess. It's frustrating to remember so many insignificant details like what the steam on my face felt like but nothing about what happened to lead me there."

"Keep talking," Glenn brightly told her. His calm optimism encouraged her. "Keep talking. Keep thinking."

With the encouragement of Daryl as well as Glenn, Beth went to the station to fill out an anonymous formal complaint on Negan. She was grateful to have Daryl there. Michonne too. It was strangely easy to go through the facts in an unemotional way. She distanced herself as though she was telling a story. Ignoring the fact that this story was her real life. What Negan was doing wasn't right and it needed to come to a stop.

She stuck to the facts from her most recent memory.

"There's a fine line here between mistreatment and what is illegal," laminated Michonne once Beth was through. "Well have to tread carefully."

Beth did not like the sound of that. "What do you mean?"

"We just have to be sure to be thorough," Daryl said. "Make sure all our work is in order."

"What will happen to everyone there?" Beth asked, trepidation in her voice.

"We can't say yet," Michonne gently told her.

"You don't understand," Beth began, panic sudden and sharp. Now that she'd told the facts, the emotions came back full force. "Many of the people have been there for years. Babies. Children. It's the only life they've known. They don't think they're being mistreated. They definitely don't think anything he is doing is illegal. If they are aware of it, Negan will twist it to make it seem like it's an us versus them kind of thing. His people won't turn their backs on him."

"You did. You're stronger and braver than you realize. You saw through him. Others might too," Michone said, placing a hand of solidarity on her shoulder.

Another thought even more terrifying than what might or might not happen to Negan came to her mind. "Will you take the children away from their mothers? Some might say they're unfit or that they shouldn't be up there. Or maybe they're not safe." All were probably true in one facet or another. Nothing was black and white or yes or no.

Negan was the biological father of all those children, what repercussions would that have? He wasn't really a father. Not in the traditional sense. He didn't interact much with them, if at all. Did he have some right to them?

Her eyes darted between Michonne and Daryl. She was quickly beginning to second guess everything. She was confident while giving her statement, now it was catching up to her.

"It won't be up to us specifically. I'll do the leg work, but I'll have to hand it over to the state at some point. Just from your statement, I'll be able to obtain a warrant so I can go in. Check things out for myself then we'll go from there. It'll be okay, Beth, we'll figure it out."

"I don't want anyone hurt," Beth said, holding back tears. Wondering just what she started.

Thanks again. I have the next chapter done. Just need to beta it. Leave a comment!