There was not much time for Beth to revel in her new happiness or excitement for her baby – there was work to do. They took their half of the supplies back to Alexandria, and along with some of the people from Hilltop, formed a plan of action; Rick proposed an ambush.

Beth found Daryl down by the lake the evening before they planned to leave.

He was sitting out on the grass, his crossbow laid out between his feet, looking out over the still water.

Beth approached him from behind and laid her hands on his shoulders; he did not jump, but Beth did not expect him to. She could never take him by surprise.

'Are you okay?' She asked.

'Yeah,' he said.

She walked around and he moved his crossbow, pulling her down to sit in its place between his thighs.

'S'heavy,' he said.

'Mm,' Beth agreed, knowing he was talking about the task at hand. 'Are you up for it?'

'Yeah,' Daryl shrugged behind her.

'Is this really what we want to do – who we want to be?' She asked, turning herself to look at him. 'Killers. Is that who you want to be?'

Daryl looked at her for a moment, and Beth saw the way his eyes sought her out, read her. She kept her eyes on him, allowing him to seek out what he needed to.

'You're a killer too, Beth.' He said quietly. 'Or y'forget that?'

Beth blinked.

'That was different,' she said softly. 'That was for protection.'

Daryl looked at her, his narrowed eyes searching each of her own, and Beth knew he was thinking about Dawn. Was thinking about the way Beth had shot her. Could she really call that protection?

'So is this.' Daryl said. 'Them people need protectin'. And we need what they got to offer.'

'Is that what we are now, then?' Beth asked. 'Guns for hire.'

'An' swords an' crossbows.' Daryl shrugged; Beth couldn't help but smile at that, even if she didn't agree with it.

'Besides, I need t'protect you an' the baby.' He said seriously. 'You need food. Livestock.'

'What if something happens to you whilst you're out there? Are we protected then?' Beth asked.

'Nothing's gonna happen.' Daryl said seriously, his eyes dark behind his hair. 'Rick's got the whole thing planned. We take 'em by surprise. They won't have a chance. We won't lose.'

Beth took a deep, shuddering breath. Then she nodded.

'Okay.' She said.

'Okay.' Daryl agreed, leaning in to lightly kiss the side of her head.

Rick, Daryl, Abraham, Michonne, Carol, Rosita, Tara, Maggie and Glenn set off an hour or so before sunset – Rick wanted them to attack under the cover of night, adding stealth to their element of surprise. He was quietly confident as he saw them all onto the RV, watching from the side with his face set and serious. He nodded once to Beth as she watched from her own side-line before he climbed aboard.

Alexandria was strangely quiet once the gates had closed behind the convoy. The night was warm, and Carl had stayed behind to keep watch over Alexandria which meant he had Judith, so Beth decided to take a walk around the community – it was an attempt to take her mind off of what those she loved were heading towards.

She had not set out with anywhere in mind, but after a wander around the lake, her feet took her over to Jessie's house.

Jessie's garage door was open, and as Beth neared, she could see Jessie was in it; her blonde hair was pulled back, and she was in a large shirt, the sleeves rolled up, as she stood at her easel, paint in hand. She looked more content than Beth had seen her in ages.

'Hey, Jessie,' Beth called to her as she approached, the warm light of the garage welcoming as it spilled out into the settling dusk.

'Beth!' Jessie turned to look at her, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear and smearing orange paint across her forehead in the process. 'Hey, are you okay?'

'Yeah,' Beth smiled, stepping over into the garage. 'I was just wandering.'

'Are you worried about the others?' Jessie asked her softly, her eyes kind and concerned.

Beth shrugged.

'I guess,' she said. 'What are you painting?'

'Oh,' Jessie turned to look at her canvas, which was awash with swirls and licks of reds and oranges. 'I'm not too sure.' She admitted.

Beth cocked her head as she looked at the flaming colours and wondered what it said about Jessie's current mental state; she looked around the garage, taking in some of the other paintings that were scattered about, some finished, some barely started. Her eyes fell on a large metal sculpture.

'What's this?' She asked, walking over to it.

'Oh,' Jessie smiled. 'That was something I was working on with the boys. I don't have the heart to finish it now.'

Beth smiled, stroking a finger down the metal wing of what she believed was supposed to be an owl.

'You're doing amazing. You know that.' She said softly.

Jessie just smiled.

'So,' Beth said after a while. 'have you spoken to Rick?'

Jessie chuckled a little at that, her light skin blushing.

'We've spoken,' she shrugged.

'And?' Beth asked.

'It was a one off, I don't know what to tell you.' Jessie said. 'We were drunk. Emotional. Besides – I've seen the way he looks at Michonne.'

Beth raised her eyebrows.

Jessie sighed.

'It was nice to feel wanted.' She admitted. 'But that doesn't mean it was okay.'

'At least things aren't awkward.' Beth said.

Jessie nodded. She put down her paintbrush and stepped back, rubbing her hands down the front of her jeans.

'You want to come in for a drink? I have some instant hot chocolate.'

'You do?' Beth grinned, instantly perking up.

'Yep.' Jessie grinned, heading towards the door that led in to the house – Beth followed. They headed for the kitchen, and Beth popped herself up onto the stool at the counter as Jessie flicked on the kettle and busied herself getting two mugs and the packets of instant chocolate from the cupboards. As the kettle boiled and clicked off, Beth marvelled that they could enjoy these little luxuries, even now after the fall of the world; she watched Jessie pour the steaming water into the mugs, mixing with the powder and foaming up into frothy chocolate and she smiled – the world may have fallen, but perhaps civilisation had not.

'Here,' Jessie said, turning around and carefully putting the drink down before Beth; the smell of chocolate drifted up to her and her mouth began to water. Milk was a luxury they were yet to indulge in – there did not seem to be any free roaming dairy cows – but hot, boiled water was better than she had ever thought they would get. If someone had told the Beth that had spent weeks sleeping out in the open, terrified all the time, cold and starving, that she would soon be sitting in a real house drinking hot chocolate – well, she would not have believed them.

She wrapped her hands around the mug and just looked down at the frothing bubbles as they settled and cooled; life was okay.

Jessie leant against the counter opposite, blowing onto her own drink; her face was pale and her eyes looked a little puffy and tired, but Beth thought she looked okay too. Losing a loved one was always difficult, but to lose a child must have been a thousand times worse. Beth only hoped she could offer a little bit of comfort to the woman who had been so good to her.

She took a swig of her drink, closing her eyes and relishing the taste. With her eyes closed, she heard a door open, and opened them to see Pete stumble out of the office room just off of the kitchen; his hair was matted and unkempt, his eyes bagged and bloodshot. These ragged eyes dragged over the kitchen, landing on Beth, before moving to Jessie, who was watching him with a wary trepidation.

'What's she doing here?' He growled, jerking his thumb over to where Beth sat.

'Pete,' Jessie said, her voice stern with warning. 'Don't be rude.'

'It's alright for you.' He snapped. 'You can stand around here, laughing and drinking, like everything is great, like everything is fine and normal, like our son didn't just die. Like you didn't kill him.'

Jessie swallowed as Beth blinked – from the sad look on Jessie's face, this was not the first time she had heard this.

'You can't expect me to sit around and wallow for the rest of my life.' Jessie said quietly. 'We have to move on.'

'Our boy is barely even cold and you're talking about moving on. What kind of a mother are you?' Pete snapped, swaying slightly where he stood.

Beth looked to Jessie, unsure whether to intervene.

Jessie took a breath and seemed to breath some strength in to herself.

'I was a good mother.' She said. 'I still am. I loved Sam dearly. It is not my fault he died.'

'You took him out there – put his life in danger. You knew he couldn't do it. You knew.'

'Okay, I knew.' Jessie said, turning so her body was facing her sweating husband. 'I knew he was frightened but I did everything I could – I needed him to be brave. I wanted him to be brave. But you know what, Pete? He wasn't brave. He was scared – and I don't think it was just of the monsters out there.' She pointed angrily out towards the door. 'He has always been scared. And who wouldn't be! What little boy wouldn't grow up afraid, if every time his father came home, his mother locked him in a cupboard! What little boy wouldn't listen to the sounds of his father's fists connecting with his mother's body and be scared? What little boy could hear his mother's cries and not be scared!'

Jessie's chest was heaving now – her face was flushed, her eyes swimming brilliantly with tears, but her face was defiant. Beth's heart broke with every further word Jessie said, but her pride in her friend grew.

Pete swayed dangerously in the doorway.

'The world out there is terrifying and full of monsters – real, life threatening monsters. We have enough fears to keep us awake at night. We don't need another monster living under our roof.' Jessie spat.

Pete just narrowed his eyes at her; his mouth hung slack, but he seemed unable to speak.

'I want you out of this house. I want you gone.' Jessie breathed.

Pete stared at her for a moment, then a languid smile broke across his face, cutting through the sickly pallor in an eerily disturbing way. He laughed bitterly and humourlessly.

'You can't throw me out.' He said. 'This is my house.'

'No it isn't.' Jessie said. 'This isn't anyone's house. We live behind the walls, but we don't own it. We haven't paid a penny for it. Me nor you.' She took a deep breath. 'But if you refuse to leave it, fine. I will.'

She turned around then and stormed past the counters – Beth quickly jumped down and followed her as she stormed towards the front door. Yanking the door open seemed to pull Pete from his stupor, and he moved then, following them with a speed Beth did not believe him capable of. They had barely gotten down the garden path when Pete was on them – he shoved Beth out of his way and grabbed Jessie, screaming noncoherently at her. She tried to pull herself from his grip, but he held fast, his face inches from hers.

Beth grabbed at the back of his shirt, pulling him as she, too, began to shout.

He turned around, shoving her out of his way, his large arm hitting her across the chest and pushing her off balance; Beth was winded and fell backwards, losing her footing and falling to the floor, hard. The remaining air was knocked from her lungs as her back hit the hard ground.

As stars swam in her vision, Beth watched Pete advance on Jessie again, this time using his fists; he had grabbed a handful of her shirt in one, and was using the other one to lay in to her – as Beth watched, his fist connected with her face, and from where she lay, Beth heard the sickening crunch of bone breaking.

There was another shout, a new voice to the fray, and suddenly Ron appeared, his own face flushed and furious. Taller and larger than Beth, he succeeded in grabbing his father and pulling him backwards – Pete let go of Jessie, stumbling backwards, arms flailing as he let go of her shirt. Angry, he turned to his son, perhaps not seeing him for who he was – or perhaps simply just too pissed off to care. With his wife now out of reach, Pete settled for her next of kin, and grabbed him, scrunching up his t-shirt in his bloodied fist, and shaking him for a moment as he yelled in his face. Ron squirmed, shouting back, but whatever it was he said, it did not amuse nor appease Pete. Pete brought a fist back, and before anyone could speak, slammed it into Ron's face.

Beth could hear Jessie screaming; the woman, her face bloodied and broken, was advancing on the man, who was so viciously and violently treating her child, and Beth wondered if Jessie had entered a mode that she too would one day come to understand; her back throbbed and her stomach ached as she lay on the ground, too weak to get back up, but she lay her hands protectively over her protruding belly as Jessie crashed a brick she had found on the sidewalk down over her husband's head.

Pete's sandy blonde hair slowly faded red, and his flushed face went slack. His eyes widened and his lips worked for a moment, but then he was falling – first forward, taking one large step as if reaching once again for his son, and then his knees seemed to give way and he crumpled in on himself. Both knees hit the ground with a loud thwack, and Pete looked up into the bloodied face of his only surviving child, before his body folded and his face hit the ground, billowing dust up in to the now silent day.

Jessie, in the background, cried.

Ron was quiet, his chest moving heavily as he breathed. Jessie dropped the brick.

Slowly, Ron went to his mother, and pulled her in to his arms. Beth watched as she hugged him back, and she knew she was telling him she was sorry, but that Ron was rejecting it.

After their moment, they broke apart, and looked to Beth. Jessie came to her then, crouching down beside her.

'Beth –' She said shakily. 'Are you okay?'

Closing her eyes for a moment, Beth nodded. It had winded her, but she was okay. Her baby was still small enough that her body protected it. But she really needed to try to keep herself safer – if only Daryl could see her now.

'I should – I should take care of –' Jessie mumbled, turning around slightly to look over her shoulder at Pete, who still lay face down in the road.

'I'll do it, mum.' Ron said.

'Ron, you don't have to – ' Jessie began, but Ron just shook his head.

'He's my dad.' He said. 'I have to.'

Jessie sighed.

'Get Beth indoors. Beth, look after my mum.' Ron said.

Beth nodded, and allowed Jessie to help her to her feet, still a little shaky. Arm in arm, the two women limped back into the house.

'My family are dropping like flies.' Jessie said once they were inside; she helped Beth down onto the sofa and then sat beside her. 'What happened to us.'

'Hey,' Beth said softly. 'You're doing fine. Pete was an asshole.'

'He was,' Jessie said, and Beth noticed her eyes had filled with tears again. 'But he was my husband.'

Beth nodded; she took Jessie's hand in her own and rubbed it gently, knowing there was very little she could say that would help her. Jessie allowed the contact, closing her eyes for some time, allowing the two of them to sit together in silence. Then she winced, opening her eyes.

'I think my cheek bone is broken.' She said.

Beth winced.

'I think so too.' She said.

Ron returned perhaps an hour later, with Tobin in tow – he told them the two of them had taken Pete's body to the infirmary until they figured out what they would do next. Tobin offered to get Denise to look at Jessie's eye, but she shook it off.

'It will heal.' She said. 'The swelling will need to go down first, anyway.'

'What about you, Beth?' Tobin asked her. 'Ron said you hit the ground pretty hard.'

'Yeah.' Beth said softly. 'But I'm fine. Maybe a couple of bruises.'

But the fall had got her thinking – she felt she ought to start letting people know she was pregnant now. She was no longer actively keeping it a secret, but unless anyone asked or already knew, she hadn't told anyone. She didn't want to be excluded from anything, or looked on as weak, but she knew having people around her who knew and understood would help her, would help keep both herself and the baby safe. She would discuss it with Daryl once he was back.

Over at the outpost, the sun was beginning to rise as Rick, Daryl, Abraham, Michonne, Carol, Rosita, Tara Maggie and Glenn stepped out from the building and into the early morning. They were quiet as they reflected on the gravity of what they had just done.

One by one, they filtered out onto the surrounding grass land, their eyes adjusting to the morning light. Daryl looked about himself, lowering his gun and taking in a deep, shuddering breath.

Rick passed him, pausing to lay a hand on his shoulder – Daryl looked at him, looked into the dark, intense eyes of the man he so willingly followed, the man who had convinced them to kill men and women as they slept.

Daryl nodded, and Rick nodded back, understanding that what they had done, as dark as it had been, was necessary.

Rick left Daryl and headed towards Michonne, who was standing, looking out over the trees beyond.

'You alright?' He asked her.

Daryl heard Michonne take a deep breath, then slowly nod as she released it.

'Just… wondering which one of those was Negan.' She said.

Rick nodded, and Daryl found himself nodding too, as he looked down at the drying blood on the butt of his gun.

. - come chat to me