Most Wanted

by SquishyCool

Explicit AU: After the godly veil on the Greene Family drug operation is lifted, 18-year-old Beth commits a heinous crime to protect her family. Now she's the only one left free and is making a run for it to New York City. When she meets single dad Daryl Dixon, who just needs a little help covering the rent, she quickly realizes that some secrets can't be kept forever.

14. a struggling man has got to move

a struggling man has got to move

Suddenly, Beth was awake. She was surrounded by darkness and there was a faint smell of recently cooked meat in the air. The sound of rain hitting the roof above filled the small apartment and echoed throughout, and she blinked as she remembered where she was. Sleep had overcome her so quickly and unexpectedly that it took her a moment to realize how much time had passed. There was a low rumble of thunder outside. The clock read 11:37. She rubbed her eyes, finding them dry and itchy thanks to forgetting to take her contacts out once again. She plucked them out and dropped them onto the small dish that still sat on her nightstand, then reached over and turned on the lamp. She grabbed the bottle of eye drops that sat nearby for relief.

She hadn't dreamt or really even realized that she'd been asleep. It had been like blinking for too long and before she knew it, hours had passed. She listened for the sounds of Daryl and Malachi, but it was quiet in the apartment. There was another rumble of thunder and the fall of rain continued above. There was no light apparent through the cracks in Beth's bedroom door and she assumed the boys had already come home and gone to bed. And based on the lingering aroma, they'd had dinner as well. She was somewhat baffled at herself for sleeping through all the noise and never rousing. But then again, she'd gone over twenty-four hours without solid sleep, and the day had been both physically and emotionally tiring.

She sat atop the bed with her legs crossed, still dressed in the leggings and shirt she'd worn earlier that day, and picked up her phone. She faintly remembered hearing it vibrating right before she'd drifted off, and she unlocked it to check her notifications. There was a text message, but it wasn't from Irma. The sender simply read Unknown. She quickly opened it and read: 11:53 pm.

She was confused at first, but then it clicked – it was a message from the mysterious caller about a new time. But was it for another phone call? It had to be, or else he would've specified… right? Her heart started beating a little faster, and she glanced at the clock again to see that she'd be waiting at least ten minutes to find out the answer.

She searched through the rest of her texts as well as her email inbox, making sure she hadn't missed any other messages. But there was nothing else new, except for a reply from Irma talking about how happy she was for "Rosie" and what she and Dale had done that day. Beth jumped to checking the news sites, national first. It calmed her a bit to see that her case still wasn't anywhere to be found on the national news. The Georgia and Atlanta news still showed her headline within the top five, though.

She watched the clock when it started getting close to the time that had been in the text. The minutes dragged by but she clutched her phone in her hand and waited. 11:51. 11:52… And then it was 11:53. A moment passed, then another. She began to think they might've forgotten, or maybe it had been a mistake.

Then the phone began vibrating in her hand. She stared at the screen to see that it was Unknown once again. She answered on the second vibration, her throat dry from sleep and her voice still shaky.

"Hello?"

The same voice from the previous phone calls spoke, "Tonight. One-fifteen. Wait for the flashes at one-eleven. Remember the password."

Before she could even open her mouth, he hung up. She pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it quizzically, then grabbed the pen that lay on her nightstand and jotted down the times on the piece of paper: 1:11 and 1:15. She checked the clock again and realized she needed to change and get going right away, hoping the traffic would be manageable at this time of night. But she also knew it was a Saturday and there might be a large flood of people out on the streets commuting between bars and homes and parties.

Beth hopped out of bed and stripped off her clothes, quickly slipping the concealing undershirt back on – Beretta holstered safely in the pocket - underneath a clean shirt and a pair of jeans. She slipped on her jacket and boots before she noticed that her bladder was rather full and she needed to visit the bathroom before doing anything else. She opened her bedroom door tentatively and peeked out, finding mostly darkness and the lone stove light in the kitchen. The boys' bedroom door was closed and the only sound that could be heard throughout the apartment was the rain hitting the roof above and the windows in the living room. There was another rumble of thunder, so low that it just barely vibrated the glass of the windows.

Beth tiptoed out into the hallway and to the bathroom, taking care of her business while trying to calculate in her head if she'd have enough time to get there. She had planned on navigating her way through the subway system to get herself more accustomed to the ways of the city, but now it looked like her best option may be ordering a cab. Her GPS gave her an estimate of about twenty minutes to her destination, but she knew that there were a lot of variables involved that could change that.

She was grateful to find the hallway empty when she emerged from the bathroom. She had splashed some water on her face as well as replaced the brown contacts, but she had no time to spare if she had to speak to Daryl or try to make an excuse for where she was going this late at night. She hoped he wouldn't hear her slip out or back into the apartment because her mind was too busy right now to think up a logical lie.

Back in her bedroom, Beth pulled the bag from beneath the bed once again and opened it up. She reached over and pulled her daddy's pocket watch from beneath the pillow, moving to stuff it into the bag. But she stopped herself and looked at it for a moment, running her thumb over its shiny surface. She remembered the story he'd told her about how Maggie's mom had gone and bought it back one time after he'd pawned it for booze money during one of the worst times in his battle with alcoholism. Her daddy had told Beth and Maggie lots of stories about his first wife, Josephine, and the bond they had shared. But in the end, they'd never had a bond like the giant secret that kept him and Beth's mother, Annette, together. Beth stuffed the pocket watch back beneath the pillow, deciding to leave it in a safe place while she was out. She figured it was better not to risk having it stolen, even though the likelihood of her allowing someone to rob her for anything in her possession was low. She didn't want to bring any more than she really needed, which was the gun and the money. She also had the note Maggie had left somewhere inside the bag, just in case this mysterious person asked for proof that Beth was who she said. She wasn't sure if they'd recognize her sister's handwriting the way she did, though.

She realized she had everything she needed and closed the bag up tightly, then threw it over her shoulders and onto her back. The apartment was still silent as she shut off her bedside lamp, slipped out the bedroom door, and tiptoed through the hallway and living room to the front door. She looked around for a moment, remembering that she'd seen an umbrella sitting somewhere in the apartment recently. She spotted it in the corner, resting against the wall. It was a simple black umbrella, and she grabbed it and took it with her, grateful that Daryl had left it out in the open. She pulled the spare key from the tight pocket of her jeans and used it to lock the door again once she was out into the hall. The door to 3B was dark and silent, and Beth wondered if Carol and Sophia were sleeping right now and if they would hear her leaving.

Once Beth made it to the lobby of the apartment building, which was empty, she stopped and pulled out her phone to look up the number for the nearest cab company. She called and spoke as quietly as she could, even though she knew it wasn't likely she could be heard from the third floor. After she hung up, she went to the front door and stared out one of the square windows. The rain was coming down steadily outside, but not in heavy sheets. There were occasional rumbles of thunder but no flashes of lightning. The streets and sidewalks indicated that it hadn't been raining very long. There didn't appear to be any people out on the street nearby, and few cars drove past. The dispatcher had given Beth an estimate of about fifteen minutes for the cab to arrive, and her eyes searched up and down the street for any sign of it, umbrella gripped tightly in her hand.

After fifteen minutes had passed and there was still no sign of a taxi, Beth decided to step outside and wait so she could be easily seen. She stood below the small entryway awning and opened the umbrella, lifting it to cover her head as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. The rain pattered against its surface but her head and the bag on her back remained dry. The breeze was light and the temperature had dropped to the fifties, and Beth zipped her jacket up and hugged it tighter to her body. She searched up and down the street, heart skipping each time a pair of headlights appeared through the rain.

It was another ten minutes before the cab arrived, slowing as it approached the front of the apartment building. Daryl's bike was covered with a heavy, black tarp amongst the row of parked cars along the side of the street, and Beth slipped between them to get to the taxi as it waited for her in the street. She hurried to close her umbrella and slip into the backseat of the yellow car, shutting the door and finding relief in the stale, warm air of the interior. The driver greeted her and confirmed her destination, then drove her through the rain-drenched streets in silence with his radio on NPR at a low volume.

They passed by busy nightclubs with lines pouring out the doors, half the people holding umbrellas of various colors and decorations to keep themselves dry, bars with outdoor seating that was empty and covered up, and houses that were lit up in every room and showed peeks of the silhouettes of moving people in the windows. There wasn't as much traffic as Beth had expected, but the intersections were still clogged with cars and the stoplights took several minutes to get through. She wondered what it must feel like to be carefree on a rainy Saturday night in September, living in the city and having no need to lie about your name or where you were from, maybe dancing and interacting with friends while the worries of the workweek drifted far away.

The closer they got to their destination, the more menacing the neighborhoods' appearances became. Beth began noticing more and more homeless people, pushing carts full of dirty items down the sidewalk or huddled together on stoops under narrow doorways. The streets became darker, gloomier, and the houses and apartment buildings were mostly run-down. She quietly reached under her shirt and pulled out the Beretta from its hidden pocket, discreetly moving it down and tucking it into the back of her waistband. She wanted to be prepared, just in case.

As they approached the corner that Beth had been directed to by the mysterious voice on the phone, the cab slowed and pulled to the side of the street. There weren't as many cars lining the curbs in this area, and the businesses all seemed to be either closed or mostly dead at this time of night. There were a couple of people apparent in the distance, but they seemed preoccupied with each other. The streetlights lit up most of the sidewalks and corners but left plenty of shadowed areas and alleys, as well as darkened buildings. Beth reached up and handed the driver a wad of cash.

"You sure this is where you wanna go?" The driver asked as he took the money, his doors still locked while they sat in the stopped car next to the curb.

"Yeah, this is it," Beth assured him.

"Yeah, but – it's kinda dangerous," he muttered, glancing back to her to show the concerned look on his face.

She shrugged, the metal of the Beretta cool against the skin of her lower back. "I'll be fine, I'm just meeting someone."

"Alright," he agreed, although hesitantly. He unlocked the doors and added, "Just be careful. You goin' inside somewhere? I can wait here till I see ya get in the door, if ya want."

Beth shook her head, "No, that's okay, you can go ahead. Thanks, though. That's nice of you."

He nodded wordlessly and she opened the door, getting out of the cab and putting on her bag once more before opening her umbrella. She shut the door of the yellow car and stepped away, watching it drive off down the street until she couldn't see it anymore. When she looked around at where she was, checking the street signs to assure her she'd been dropped off in the right place, she realized she wouldn't have to worry about being caught on any sort of security footage around here.

She walked to the corner and looked down the street, a line of buildings across from her. One of them was dark and extremely run-down, obviously abandoned, but one of its busted-out corner windows caught her attention. She thought she'd spotted movement, but she assumed it was probably just a trick of the light. She looked around a bit more, taking a few more steps down the sidewalk to get a better view. There were a few businesses on this street, as well as unmarked buildings, but everywhere seemed to be closed for the night or mostly dark inside. One hand clutched the handle of the umbrella while the other hesitated at her back, ready to grab the gun at any moment and defend herself. But there didn't appear to be anyone around, and the people she'd seen in the distance had disappeared by now.

It seemed that the only abandoned building on the street was the one with the window that had caught her eye. As she checked her phone once more, seeing that she still had another fifteen minutes before the "flashes" were supposed to happen, she started to wonder if that would be the building where she'd have to meet this person. There didn't appear to be anywhere else that would be safe for an illegal meeting, unless they were going to take her into one of the dark alleys. At this point, she didn't care either way. She just wanted to get it over with so she could get out of the rain and back into her warm, cozy bed. Oddly, she wasn't afraid of being mugged or attacked by a stranger right now, when most people probably would be. She'd faced far worse and come out the other end. In a way, she was almost numb to that normal sort of civilian fear. A much deeper fear of law enforcement and being recognized had become the norm for her.

After a few minutes, she reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out the piece of paper she'd jotted the information down on, checking it in the glow of the streetlights. NW corner… 5 flashes… She stuffed it back into her pocket and went back to standing directly on the corner, a safe distance from the street while also covered by the shadows of the building behind her. Her head stayed on a swivel, searching for any sign of people or the flashes up and down the street. The minutes ticked by and the rain showed no sign of letting up. A few cars drove past here and there, but it seemed about as sleepy in this area as it had back in the neighborhood of Daryl's apartment.

She was staring at the time tick by on the screen of her phone when it hit 1:11. Immediately, her eyes shot up and began searching up and down the street, opened as wide as possible and praying she didn't miss anything.

And there it was – a flash of light, or more accurately, a flicker. Her eyes darted back to the abandoned building. Her heart sped up as she began to think she had been correct in assuming it would be that particular building. Her eyes were searching every window when another flicker happened, and she followed it with her gaze.

The broken window. She stared, willing the flash to appear again, and it did. Then another. And then one more. She stared at the window for another couple of seconds, memorizing its position before she glanced down at her phone. She'd only lost thirty seconds.

She shoved the phone in her pocket and glanced both ways down the street before dashing across, hands gripping the straps of her bag. When she made it to the other sidewalk, she jogged until she came to the front of the abandoned building. Its front had large windows that had been boarded up years ago and painted with graffiti, and several parts of the walls looked like they were about to crumble apart. There were still random letters stained above the entrance, left over from whatever businesses had previously occupied it. But there was no sign of a way to get in – no spaces in the wood or broken windows.

Beth darted around to the side, heading down the small alley that separated the abandoned building from the well-maintained building next door. She searched for a way in, squinting in the small bit of light she was being given by the streetlamps. Then she spotted it: a heavy, metal door, left open ajar with a small brick. She folded up her umbrella and held it in one hand like a weapon, then raced to the door, pulling it open and slipping inside. She closed it carefully, being sure to leave it ajar on the brick, just in case it automatically locked.

Sweat was beading on her neck and forehead as she stepped into the dark, abandoned building. She tried to steady her breathing as she pulled out her phone, squinting in the darkness. It was nearly pitch black inside. She turned on her phone's flashlight and held it out in front of her, searching in front of her for any obstructions as she walked through the large, empty room. The floors were all tile and the walls were all dark green, stained and covered with graffiti. She searched for the stairs that would lead her to the broken window, shining the light all over the room. In the far corner, she spotted a doorway leading to a staircase, and she quickly moved to walk toward it. But it looked like there'd been several squatters here recently, and Beth found herself walking very cautiously as she stepped over a crack pipe, an old pair of underwear, and what looked like a child's teddy bear.

When she finally got to the stairs, she shone her light ahead as she jogged up, relieved to see that the staircase, at least, seemed to be mostly free of trash and drug paraphernalia. When she reached the top, she turned the corner to find another set of stairs, jogging up them just the same. She was breathing heavily when she got to the landing, a few drops of sweat sliding down her neck. She found a wall straight ahead and a hallway to her right, so she turned the corner, light shining on the tile floor in front of her.

Then she stopped. There was a pair of shoes before her, and as she lifted her phone, the flashlight revealed that the shoes were connected to a pair of legs, which were connected to a person. She gasped, holding back the scream that wanted to escape from her throat. Two bright blue eyes were staring back at her.

"Password?" The man asked. He looked to be about Daryl's age and was wearing a black hoodie, some of his curly, brown hair peeking out from beneath the hood. He had pale skin and a stubbly, brown beard, and his voice was much softer than she'd anticipated. He was standing with his hands behind his back, as if he were the doorman to a private party and had been expecting Beth's arrival.

She stared at him in surprise, realizing there was a hint of light coming from a room down at the other end of the hall. She could barely see anything from the faint glow, and she wondered how this guy had been standing here in such darkness and how he wasn't as startled as she had been when she approached. But then she remembered that he was probably expecting her.

She stuttered softly, "Mary Magdalene… refuge…?"

The man cocked an eyebrow and looked her up and down, and her hand that held the phone started to quiver. The light shook and she pulled her hand in closer to her body, waiting for a response. She was almost afraid he was going to snap his fingers and make a trap door appear to swallow her whole.

Instead, he smiled. Then he instructed, "Lift up your shirt."

Beth's stomach dropped and a knot formed in her throat. Should she turn and run? She fought the urge to do so, furrowing her brows and forcing herself to speak, "Why?"

"To check for a wire," he replied simply.

She breathed a sigh of relief and inwardly rolled her eyes at her own paranoia. As she reached down and unzipped her jacket, she hesitated as she began pulling up her shirt, along with the undershirt. She knew that checking for a wire was a logical thing to do in this kind of situation, but it still felt violating.

"If it makes you feel better, I'm gay, and I get no pleasure from making people show me their chests," the man said, and she couldn't help but smirk. He didn't smile at her but she could see it in his eyes, and she knew he wasn't lying.

She lifted her shirt and watched his face carefully as he looked her up and down for any sign of a wire for about two seconds, then he nodded and motioned for her to cover herself again. She pulled her shirts back down gratefully.

"Flashlight off. Give me your phone and follow me," he told her, holding his palm out flat.

She turned off the flashlight and placed her phone in his palm, which he shoved in his pocket. The hallway was mostly dark now, and she could barely make out his face as she squinted to see. He turned on his heel and began walking toward the door where the light was coming from. Beth followed, her boots padding against the grungy tile floor. She could barely hear the rumbles of thunder from inside the thick, old walls.

The curly-haired man led her to the door, stopping just outside and turning to face her. He gave no explanation, gesturing for her to step inside. The door was open a crack, letting the small bit of light out into the hall. She stepped forward and pushed it open, stepping inside. She found that the source of the light was a kerosene lamp in the corner, its flame burning low. A shadowed figure stood near the window across from it.

She stopped in the middle of the room, its walls stained and graffiti-covered, the lamp giving the whole place an eerie glow. She heard the door shut softly from behind her and turned around to see that she was now possibly locked in this room with a stranger. She turned back to see the figure stepping forward so that the light caught his face as he lowered his hood. It revealed a bearded man with long, brown hair and a black beanie on his head. He had big, bright green eyes and for a moment, Beth thought there must've been a mistake, because he didn't look at all threatening like she'd expected.

"Rosie?" He asked. His voice was soft like the other man's, but deeper.

She nodded. "Um… were you the guy on – the phone?"

He nodded as well, smiling knowingly. "I'm Jesus. Well, that's what everyone knows me as, anyway. You're… Beth. Correct?"

Her breath caught in her throat at the sound of her real name being spoken aloud by another person. It had been so long that it sounded taboo to her ears, as if it shouldn't be mentioned in fear of someone overhearing. But there was no one to overhear.

"Um…"

He smiled again, as if he understood all too well. "It's okay. I have just as much to lose as you do. I wanted to be as vague on the phone and through our emails as possible, for obvious reasons. But we're safe here for now."

Beth nodded, a painful knot growing in her throat.

"I saw the news. I've heard from some of my connections. I know you need to get out of the country," Jesus continued, speaking very matter-of-factly but keeping his voice lowered. "The story hasn't gotten much attention so far, but it could go national any day. Your face could start popping up on screens. But even if it doesn't, you'll make the FBI's Most Wanted list regardless. You and everyone on that farm are being accused of multiple felonies. Your family has no idea where you are or where you're going, so the courts can't really use it against them anymore. But if you get caught, everything will be worse. Much worse… Even if you start over in a new state, you'll never really be safe. I can't guarantee that something like fingerprints or DNA, or whatever it may be, won't get you caught somewhere down the line if you stay in the country. Your wanted status will never just go away until they know you're dead."

She nodded, staring into his intense, green eyes, absorbing every word he said. He was basically voicing every thought she'd had in the last week. But it reassured her to know that she was right in being so paranoid. Although it was a bittersweet affirmation that Maggie's note was, in fact, accurate... she'd have to leave the country.

"Your sister was in contact with me a few times after your mom and brother were killed," he continued. "She was smart to prepare. But she would've been smarter to take you and flee the country as soon as you turned eighteen. I offered to start looking into new identities the last time we corresponded in July. But she refused… She was smart, but she was too optimistic for her own good. Too protective of your father. I didn't hear from her again, but I knew to keep an eye out for her signals… I just didn't think you'd be the only one to make it out."

"Why are you talking about her like she's dead?" Beth wasn't sure where the words came from. She'd been listening intently, but the emotion had been building up inside her the whole time, and her eyes were welling with tears. She tried to focus on the facts, on what was important and what needed to be done. But she couldn't stop the water that was blurring her vision at the mention of her family's demise in such a matter-of-fact tone.

Jesus blinked, surprised. He furrowed his brow. "Beth, your sister may be facing Life in prison. I'm sorry if that's hard to hear, but it's the truth. I know that you already know what your father's fate will be. She may get off with a lighter sentence if your attorney can build up a sob story, but… well, you'll never see them again. You know that. Right? You can't. You'll always be a fugitive. Unless you want to… turn yourself in."

She shook her head, blinking away the tears as best she could and swallowing hard. "I know. I… just, she's not dead. That's all. I know all that. Trust me."

He nodded and went on, "I started searching for your new identity the moment you contacted me. I wasn't worried about payment because I know that you got away with a lot of your family's stash. I'm assuming that's what's in the bag…?"

He pointed to her bag and she nodded hesitantly, gripping the umbrella in her hand tighter.

"Smart to keep it on you," Jesus told her. "And I know you have the missing gun, too. A Beretta, right?"

She nodded again, a little worried that he knew so much. But she reminded herself that most of these facts had been publicized, and if they hadn't, he'd already confessed to having "connections" that he'd been in touch with.

"You need to get rid of it," he said sternly, giving her a look that said he was very serious. "It's a murder weapon. You should toss it into the Hudson River. Bury it out in the woods. Whatever. Just get rid of it and don't let anyone know it ever existed."

She swallowed and nodded again, staring back into Jesus' eyes and feeling herself shrinking before him. He cocked an eyebrow.

"Where have you been hiding out?" He asked.

She gave him a quizzical look and answered, "An apartment. I… found a room to rent. It's just this guy and his little kid and he keeps to himself so I've been staying inside all day and checking the news."

Jesus pursed his lips for a few seconds before speaking, "Have you been using the same fake name as you gave me?"

She nodded.

"And how did you get here? How many people saw you get here?"

"I took a cab. I – no one saw, except the cab driver – "

He smirked, making her feel a bit embarrassed as he interrupted, "No, I mean to the city. How did you get from Senoia to New York City?"

"Oh," she said, blushing. "I… ran."

He furrowed his brows. "You ran? You didn't run the whole way… did you?"

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts, but she couldn't seem to get any of them straight at the moment. The way he stared at her made her feel extremely pressured and scrutinized, and she was afraid he'd decide she was too stupid to help if she didn't say the right things.

"No, of course not. I… Well, I ran for a long time. Then I found a car and tried t'get out of Georgia, but it broke down. So I was just gonna walk, but this old couple happened to drive by and they picked me up in their RV. They were road tripping. They'd just left Atlanta – but they don't even watch the news, they had no idea who I was or anything about the situation – and I just rode with them the whole way. They dropped me off and I didn't tell them where I was gonna stay or where I was gonna go. They never saw me with my blonde hair."

Jesus nodded as he listened, his face unreadable. When she'd finished, he replied, "Okay. That's good, but that's still a couple people who know what city you're in if they end up recognizing you or hearing about you. Did anybody see you on the way up here?"

She shrugged, nervous to answer this question but continuing anyway, "Um… I guess. We stopped in D.C. and Philadelphia before we got here. I tried to keep my head down, but… it's not easy."

"No, it's not," he agreed, sighing. "That's not good. You've been seen by a lot of people. If they put enough manpower into this case, they could potentially track you here… You might have to move on to somewhere else until you can leave the country."

Dread bubbled up from the pit of Beth's stomach. "I… but – then how will I find you again? If I go somewhere else?"

He smirked, "I don't live here. I travel all over, depending on where I'm needed. Why do you think I changed our meeting time at the last minute?"

Beth shrugged. "To throw me off, in case I was an undercover cop or something…?"

He chuckled softly, "Partly, yeah. But also because I was contacted to go to the midwest tomorrow so I had to bump this meeting up to tonight. So don't worry about being out of my reach, because I'm never too far away."

"Oh," she said. The thought of having to find a way to leave the city and figure out where else she could go to hide out made her sick to her stomach. "How long until I can leave? I mean, how long will it take you to get me the new identity? I can pay you in full right now, if that helps."

Jesus' eyes dimmed a bit, and he replied, "It helps, but not much. It's an extremely risky, costly, time-consuming process. I have a careful method that keeps us all under the radar. So all I can tell you for now is to lay low, stay out of the public eye, and keep your eyes and ears open. And always be ready to run, no matter what."

She blinked. "How long?"

He sighed. "I dunno. A few months. More? I can't tell you anything for sure."

She averted her gaze to the floor, breaking their intense eye contact. She forced herself to stay quiet, to form a plan in her head. But all she could think right now was, Fuck fuck fuck fuck , there's NO WAY I can stay hidden for that long!

"Running helped you survive. It got you this far. You just have to keep running a little longer," Jesus said, his voice softer.

Even though he clearly made his living doing nothing but illegal activities, this man didn't seem like a hardened criminal to Beth. He had the aura of a gentle soul, hardened by the secrecy and the danger of his life and his profession. And Beth wasn't sure, but she thought he might be the kind of person who genuinely cared about people and not just money. Why else would he have offered to help Maggie even when she didn't want it? And now it seemed that he was attempting to give her the advice that he knew Maggie would be giving her if she were able.

"I know," Beth muttered, her voice cracking. "I… I – just… I dunno where else to go. I don't know… what I'm doing."

She blinked away more tears and straightened her back, trying to force herself to gain some composure and harden her expression. She knew better than to let herself get too emotional, especially at a time like this. She needed to focus on what was important and let everything else fall to the wayside. Otherwise, she'd just be sitting in prison for the rest of her life with nothing but time to get emotional.

"Not that she really had a reason to, but Maggie never told me how young you were," Jesus' voice was soft and quiet as he spoke, but Beth didn't look up to meet his piercing gaze. "I didn't realize until I saw the news… I knew your dad had started it all when you guys were young, but I didn't think you were just children. You're barely an adult. And now you're all alone in the world with only two choices: prison or a new life in another country… It's a lot. I know. But it'll be okay. You've come this far."

All of his words were stabbing her like a hundred tiny, little knives in her skin. She wanted to burst into tears. She wanted to scream and yell. She wanted to punch this guy in his fucking face and tell him to take his sympathy and his sad, pitiful gaze and shove it up his ass.

She wanted to jump on a plane and fly far away and never look back.

She wanted to talk to her sister. She wanted to know what the fuck she was supposed to do and if this guy was really as smart as he acted.

But she didn't do any of those things. Instead, she looked up and met his eyes again, staring back defiantly. He was giving her that pitiful look, like he felt bad for her, as he added, "Maggie will be proud of you."

She spoke, "So you're gonna tell her? You're gonna talk to her?"

He furrowed his brow, "What makes you think I can do that?"

Beth raised her eyebrows at him expectantly, "What you just said. It sounds like you're gonna talk to her. At least someday. You said you have connections. Are those connections to inmates?"

She thought she saw a smirk tug at the corner of his lips but he didn't let it show. He narrowed his green eyes and stared back at her, "Not necessarily."

She sighed. "Well, if you do… tell her I'm okay. Please. And tell her I found the picture between the money."

Jesus sighed. "I… can't promise anything. I have connections, but they're sporadic, and it's a hard time to try to talk to any of those involved - especially your sister. Plus, we can't risk someone hearing that you've passed a message to her, or anyone finding out at all. It's better for her sake if she doesn't know anything about you."

Beth nodded but her chest tightened. "I understand..."

A few seconds of painful silence followed before Jesus changed the subject, "Let's get the money issue sorted so we can move forward with this. The faster I get you a passport, the faster you're on a plane to another continent."

She was grateful to jump back into the real reason they were there and pulled the bag off her shoulders. She set it on the floor and leaned down to begin opening it, asking, "Yeah. How much d'you need?"

"Fifty-k," he responded. "I'm gonna get you the full set so there won't be any chance of a complication – that means social security number, passport, birth certificate, driver's license, visa, everything. You can start working toward citizenship once you're settled in to your new home under your new identity."

She nodded as she dug around inside the bag and gathered together fifty-thousand dollars' worth of hundred-dollar bills. She had to set the money out on the floor and sort it into piles as she counted it out, but Jesus watched silently, not seeming to mind either way. She focused on counting, her lips mouthing the numbers in a breathy whisper as she tried to keep track. After a few minutes, she zipped the bag back up and gathered all the piles of bills from the floor, tying them together with a rubber band she'd taken from inside the bag.

"Do I get to pick what country I go to?" She asked as she handed the wad of cash over to Jesus, who took it and stuffed it into his hoodie pocket while she threw the bag back over her shoulders and stood up.

"Doubtful," he replied. "I'll see what I can do but it's usually not up to me. In this case, it might not be up to you either. We'll decide what the safest option is for you considering all the factors."

Beth nodded, gazing down at the floor silently.

"Where would you choose to go, if you had the option?" Jesus asked, surprising her. It sounded more out of curiosity than anything, but she still took the question seriously.

"I'm not sure," she answered honestly. "I was thinking maybe… France? I dunno. Ireland? I've heard it's beautiful there."

Jesus smirked. "France isn't such a terrible idea. But did you know Ireland would extradite you if you were ever to be identified?"

Beth shook her head. She'd thought about it before, she was aware of extradition treaties with the U.S., but she'd never looked into which countries were safe and which weren't. She was beginning to think she should do some serious research before making any further plans.

He went on, "That's the tricky part about leaving: not only do you have to get out without getting caught, but you have to find somewhere that won't send you right back. Most countries have extradition treaties with the U.S., so none of it is simple. I can't tell you where you may end up. I have no idea myself right now. But don't get your hopes up for anything in particular. Some countries are too flaky to take a risk on. Maggie and I discussed possible options in the past, but I don't want you to get your heart set on anything. Just give me time and I'll see what we can come up with."

Beth nodded, but the fear of having to move to a country she'd never heard of at the last minute was weighing on her shoulders. She wished she could talk to Maggie more than anything right now.

"Keep your head down until then. Stay hidden, don't give anyone a chance to recognize you and don't mention a word about your case. I know I probably don't need to tell you that, but still," Jesus said.

"I know," she said. "So how will I know when to be ready? Can you keep me updated or something?"

"We can correspond through your email," he told her. "Not often, but I'll send a short message every now and then, whenever I learn something new. I'll be as vague as possible, but always be careful while you own a phone and use these things. I'm not an easy person to track, so just worry about not getting yourself caught."

Beth was staring back into his eyes, listening and nodding to show that she understood. He paused for a moment, almost like he was studying her or searching for something in her face.

"You've been through a lot, Beth," his voice was softer now, quieter. "You've been really strong. Maggie would be proud of you. She believed in you and she knew you had what it takes to survive. That's why she helped you escaped. I hope you know that."

She looked away, blinking back the tears that were threatening to spill forward. She stared at a stain on the wall next to her, picturing her sister's smiling face in her mind.

"I do," she answered, meeting his eyes again. "You can stop pitying me now. I appreciate the help but I don't need you feelin' bad for me. I know I'm strong; I've been strong for a while now."

Jesus shrugged and looked a bit embarrassed, but smirked nonetheless. "I don't pity you. I empathize... I know what it's like to be all alone in the world."

Beth looked away again, thinking, No, you don't.

---

It was a Tuesday in July. The humidity was heavy in the air and the sun seemed to be melting as it hung in the sky. The small church was hot despite the ten different fans going in each window. The AC had broken in the middle of church two days ago and they were still waiting on the arrival of the part they needed to repair it.

Beth stood in one of the pews, sorting through stacks of literature as she separated and organized them to be slipped into each little pocket that lined the backs of the pews. Patricia and Otis were off on the other side of the room, talking quietly as they organized pamphlets and shirts and signs for an upcoming charity fundraiser. Maggie and Glenn stood near the front doors, which sat propped open with another fan, talking amongst themselves. A few feet away from them, Arnold stood listening and nodding, giving his own input every few seconds. Hershel was up front, standing behind his podium as he shuffled through paperwork. His blue eyes were looking down through his reading glasses, face scrunched up in concentration. Off towards the back of the church were a couple other people from the congregation who also worked on the farm. (These days, almost everyone who attended the church also worked on the farm, and vice versa.) One of them was Jimmy, Beth's boyfriend of over a year, who was occupied with fixing a chair in the corner. He had his toolbox open next to him, a few tools and screws scattered about the rough, dark carpet of the church floor. Sweat dripped down his reddened face as he worked, his face scrunched in concentration much like Hershel's.

Everyone was so pre-occupied that they hadn't even heard the car pulling up outside, or the sound of its tires crunching rocks and gravel as it had come down the narrow road. It was the sound of footsteps – heavy boots on creaky wood – that made Beth look up, and then Hershel. A woman in dark clothes and sunglasses strode through the open doors, passing right by Maggie and Glenn, who looked up in surprise, speechless. Everyone else noticed her within seconds of her entrance, but they all seemed to be pretending they hadn't, focusing on their tasks at hand and each other.

Hershel, on the other hand, looked up and saw her striding down the aisle between the pews, so he took off his reading glasses and set them down. He stepped down from behind the podium and walked a few feet to meet the woman, both of them stopping with only a couple feet of space between them. Beth watched silently from where she stood in the pew, unable to see the woman's facial expressions but knowing they were probably intimidating. She watched her daddy stare this woman down – she was even shorter than Beth, maybe five-foot-nothing, with dark brown hair that was tied back in a tight bun, dark sunglasses, and plain, black clothes.

After years of being warned and prepared, Beth could recognize a cop when she saw one.

"Officer Lerner," Hershel smiled, blue eyes sparkling like always. He stood with his back straight and hands folded in front of him, confidence in his posture.

"It's Detective." The woman's tone was sharp and deadly serious. Her mouth barely moved when she talked, and she refused to take off her sunglasses.

"Oh, my mistake, Dawn," Beth watched the smirk appear on her daddy's face and she fought back one of her own, his voice full of guile.

She couldn't see what sort of expression Detective Lerner was making in response to that, but her tone got sharper and she was nearly spitting words at the old man. "Nice service on Sunday. I particularly liked your elaboration on Romans thirteen and that part in the first book of Peter. And Romans seven? Interesting choice… I think I learned a lot."

Beth could tell that this officer's words meant more than they were saying. Her daddy knew it, too, because his expression wavered occasionally, but he stood his ground. He smiled and answered with, "I'm glad to hear it. Truly. Anyone I can reach with the Lord's word is just one more good deed in His eyes… God is there for you to lean on. I imagine you need a lot of faith to do a job like yours, Detective."

Dawn sighed, "I thought you'd be happy about the arrest, Hershel…"

Hershel's smile didn't falter, "Overjoyed. Only thing that could be better's if you'd caught the other guy."

"We still don't know there were two," she snapped, as if it were obvious. "And oddly enough, the guy we arrested would barely talk to us. So even if he had an accomplice, we couldn't get a damned thing from him… Won't even look at us when we ask him about you… But there weren't any witnesses, remember…?"

She glanced over her shoulder and Beth saw her sunglasses and stoic expression for a split-second before she looked down, avoiding the older woman's gaze. Her hands were shaking as she shuffled through the literature in her hands, trying to look busy.

She heard her father's voice again, "I reckon you should've been askin' him about whoever he worked for. And sadly, no, there weren't any witnesses to that heinous crime. But I'd think y'all could tell that much from the scene. You certainly spent long enough hangin' around my farm, disturbing my family, interrupting our private time of mourning. And even now, when I should be grieving for the stolen lives of my wife and young son, you and your goons can't stop creeping around. Don't get me wrong – I think being in church on a Sunday is about the best thing you can be doin' for yourself. But I see your ill intentions, Detective."

Beth saw Dawn's jaw move, as though she were opening her mouth to talk but changed her mind. Hershel continued when she didn't say anything.

"You don't have a warrant. No judge in their right mind will listen to you or your insane babblings about me and my family." His voice had grown deeper, more serious, and every set of eyes in the small church was discreetly watching him. "I suggest you head back down the road and leave us be. We have a lot of work to do."

Dawn leaned in closer, lowering her voice, but Beth could still make out her words, "Once we catch you slipping – and you will slip, they always slip – that'll be the end. I know you've convinced a lot of vulnerable people that you're doin' God's work, but I'm not falling for it, old man. One wrong move and your little house of cards comes toppling down. You really wanna take all these nice, hard-working people down with you?"

Hershel's blue eyes weren't sparkling anymore, and his mouth was pressed into a thin line. He stared at Detective Lerner intently, unwilling to break eye contact. He spoke clearly, loud enough for everyone in the church to hear, even over all the noisy fans, "'No servant can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and money.'"

'Luke 16:13,' Beth thought, 'But why is he quoting Bible verses right now? This woman knows what we're doing, she's waiting to catch us at any moment. Why didn't Daddy tell me about this? Does Maggie know?' She was frozen, waiting for a response from the other woman that never came.

Hershel continued, "You don't know me very well, Detective Lerner, but you seem t'really want to. The most important thing you can learn is that I am a man of God, through and through. I am many other things: a father, a widower, an uncle, a brother, a friend. But I am not a criminal. And I am not dangerous. And the very notion that you would… enter my church, the place of worship where I have poured my blood, sweat, and tears into over many years just for the sake of spreading God's love to others… and accuse me, my family, my friends. This is my congregation! We worship God, we donate to charity, we volunteer our time to the community. I just can't, for the life of me, imagine why a respected officer of the law – a recently promoted Detective! – is questioning us, trying to… to incriminate us-? When we're here, preparing our posters and our collection bins and our Bibles – " He gestured dramatically to the people scattered amongst the church and the various projects they were working on, " – trying to-to prepare for another attempt at putting just a little love back into our community and to those who need it most, despite our great pain from a very large, very recent loss. Why are you so intent on stopping us, Detective? What sort of vendetta do you have against my family? Haven't we suffered enough?"

Everyone was openly watching now, eyes staring at the pair as Hershel spoke. He was intense and spoke with conviction, and if Beth hadn't already known her daddy as well as she did, she'd think Dawn Lerner were a pretty big damn fool right now. The others in the church – some of them still ignorant of how ruthless Hershel could actually be when it came to business – were staring open-mouthed, appearing to be in disbelief that this officer of the law was harassing an innocent, old man. After a few seconds of being speechless, Dawn glanced around to see all the eyes pointed in her direction. She looked straight at Hershel, hands clenched into tight fists at her sides.

"I'm not alone, you know. And you've got a lot on the line here. Someone, somewhere is gonna fuck up, and then…?" She leaned in closer, and Beth had to strain her ears to hear the last few words, "The wrath of God will come down upon you… and your family."

Hershel smiled as Lerner leaned back and spun on her heel, marching out of the church without a glance in anyone else's direction. He called after her, waving, "'We live by faith, not by sight.' Stop by next Sunday, we'll be discussing Corinthians!"

Beth watched the detective leave, then listened as her car door slammed and the tires kicked up rocks and gravel speeding off down the road. Everyone in the small church seemed to have stopped what they were doing, staring at Hershel and waiting for an explanation. Beth was, too. He looked to her first, making eye contact for the first time since Dawn had entered. He didn't say anything, but his expression told her everything she needed to know. It told her that they would talk later… and it wouldn't be a very good talk.

He turned to everyone else and smiled, gesturing for them to resume what they'd been doing. "Sorry for the interruption everyone. Might I remind you all… 'those who desire to live a godly life in Christ will be persecuted.' …And that's all I'll say on that for now."

Beth watched her daddy walk down the aisle and out the front doors to step outside for some fresh air. She could see the vein in the top of his head that appeared when he was stressed, and even though everyone else in the room seemed to be pleased with the outcome of that particular conflict, Maggie was looking at Beth and mirroring her expression of worry.

Hershel's front had worked for now, but he couldn't keep anything from his daughters in the long run.

---

The ride back to the apartment seemed to pass by in a heartbeat. Beth was so wrapped up in her own thoughts and worries, staring at the screen of her phone while she looked up a list of countries that didn't have extradition treaties with the U.S. Her mind was running a hundred miles a minute as she tried to process the meeting she'd just had with Jesus. It had been nothing like she'd expected, but in a good way. She'd been preparing herself for some kind of criminal, but instead, she'd found a man who felt the need to play the part of her big brother. She hadn't expected it, nor wanted it, but for a few moments after she'd left the dark, abandoned building, she'd felt just a tiny bit closer to Maggie. She missed her big sister horribly. But she knew that she didn't really need her. Not anymore.

It was close to three in the morning when Beth reached the front door of the apartment. She unlocked it as quietly as possible and slipped inside, finding everything just as dark and silent as it had been when she'd left. She returned the umbrella to its original spot without leaving any lasting evidence that it had ever been used. She was grateful to see the boys' bedroom door still closed and no sign of Daryl in the bathroom. She snuck into her bedroom and shut the door tightly, then unpacked her things and put everything back into its safe place. Her bag was now fifty-thousand dollars lighter as she shoved it under the bed.

After she'd stripped down and taken out her contacts, as well as gazed at the photo from under her pillow for a few seconds, she lay in bed with her phone. She scrolled through the news sites, not expecting to find any updates but knowing it would calm her anyway. After several minutes of checking and double-checking, she found herself distracted by all the other news articles. She read through and clicked different headlines, getting her mind off of her own problems for a bit.

The longer she read, the more tired her eyes became. She wasn't so much physically exhausted as she was emotionally exhausted. She hadn't expected so many reminders of her sister during this meeting. But then again, it was encouraging. She had a lot to be thankful to Maggie for, including having a reliable connection that could help them get out of the country under new names. She was grateful that at least one of them had thought to prepare for the worst case scenario.

After about an hour, her eyelids were growing heavier and heavier, and after drifting off with her phone still in her hand a few times, Beth gave in and plugged it into the charger, then set it on the nightstand. She rolled over and wrapped the blankets around herself, closing her eyes. Within seconds, she was drifting off to a dreamless sleep.

Without the worry of answering a phone call or catching an extremely important text message, Beth was able to sleep soundly and without interruption. She was so drained that nothing budged her awake for hours on end. Finishing with meeting Jesus was like an enormous weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and now she could sleep without being jolted awake to the reality of utter fear. She had a plan now, and it was set into motion. All she had to do was sit it out and wait. The lack of such reassurance had been half of her stress in itself.

Her eyes fluttered open to see that there was light sneaking into her bedroom from the spaces around her door, and she could hear the sounds of people talking and moving about in the apartment. She lay still for a few minutes, staring up at the ceiling and silently thanking God for every lucky break she'd been given so far. She was mostly grateful that she hadn't had any haunting dreams.

The longer she listened, she could make out the sounds of raindrops on the roof and the occasional low rumbles of thunder. It seemed to still be storming from the night before, although not as steadily. Beth glanced over to see that the clock read 2:28. She blinked, unsure that she was reading it correctly. She was shocked to realize she'd slept for nearly twelve hours.

She sat up, stretching and yawning. She ran a hand through her messy hair, somewhat taming it. She reached out and grabbed her phone from the nightstand, unplugging it and checking for notifications. There were no texts from Irma, no emails from Jesus, and no phone calls. Her hand automatically went to the news sites, checking for updates. There was still nothing national, but when she checked the Georgia news, she found something new… and horrible.

The headline was the second largest on the site at the moment, and she clicked the link that read: Nineteen-Year-Old Inmate Found Dead; Former Boyfriend of Wanted Beth Greene.

Her heart skipped a beat and nearly stopped inside her chest. Her breath caught in her throat. She scrolled down to read the article:

ATLANTA (7:32 AM): In a shocking update that points to vital connections with the case of the Greene Family and their multi-million dollar drug operation, WSAV has learned that James A. Cline of Senoia, 19, has passed away while being held on recent charges. He was known to have been the long-term boyfriend of wanted fugitive, Beth Greene. Police have refused to comment on the status of the Greene Family case at this time.

Sources report that Cline passed away on the evening of August 30th. Officers found his body hanging inside his cell at Atlanta Grady Detention Center, apparently self-inflicted. They attempted resuscitation, but 19-year-old Cline had already been cut off from oxygen for well over 30 minutes. His death was kept confidential until next of kin were notified and all alleged evidence tying him to the active case was found unusable. A private funeral service was held for him by close family members and friends last night, on Saturday, September 2nd.

James Cline, affectionately referred to by family members and friends as "Jimmy," was known to have been dating 18-year-old Beth Greene since the summer of 2016. The most interesting part isn't that they were together, though: it's that he was charged for a crime that our sources say police believe is deeply entwined with the Greene Family drug operation.

Cline was arrested and booked into police custody on the night of August 25th after a 911 call was placed from none other than Beth Greene. The 18-year-old reported that her "ex-boyfriend" had broken into her family's home and was high on drugs and acting aggressive. Police responded to find Cline bruised and battered from an unreported incident earlier in the day, attempting to assault Hershel Greene, as well as Greene's son-in-law, Glenn Rhee. Cline gave no explanation as to what had happened to him prior in the day or if it was connected to the Greene family. He refused to answer any questions as to why he had chosen to trespass and break into his former girlfriend's family home and attempt to attack her before being diverted by her father and brother-in-law. Multiple bags containing nearly 1 pound of meth altogether were found on his person. He was extremely intoxicated, and sources say it took multiple officers to subdue him and take him into custody. Later, his blood levels confirmed that he was high on methamphetamine, marijuana, Xanax, and had a blood-alcohol level of .012.

His first appearance before a judge was on August 28th, where he was informed that he would be charged with breaking and entering, trespassing, burglary, possession with intent to distribute methamphetamine, and possession of drug paraphernalia. He had not contacted an attorney and with a bail set at over $200,000, there was no bond placed for him. Despite having a previously clean record, he was reportedly refusing the plea deal being offered to him by police.

Anonymous sources say they suspect the police had been interrogating him about his involvement with the Greene Family operation, because he had been in and out of his cell and seen with multiple detectives between early on August 26th and just hours before he took his own life on the night of the 30th. These sources also believe it was Cline's information that ultimately led to Detective Shane Walsh and Detective Rick Grimes being sent inside the Greene Family home on the evening of August 26th, armed with a judge-granted warrant that they had been working with several other detectives for months to obtain. Could the meth found on Cline's person originally have come from Hershel Greene? Or was Cline using legal ultimatums to exact revenge on his former girlfriend?

Police remain tight-lipped about the Greene Family case. All questions about James Cline's death have been turned down for comments under strict orders from the lead detective on the Greene case, Officer Dawn Lerner. When WSAV reached out to the family of the deceased, they did not return any calls.

Stay tuned for more updates on this, as well as the fate of the Greene Family operation, as information comes in.

Beth felt the bile rising in her throat. She thought she might be sick right then and there. She swallowed hard, trying to push off the sensation. She touched her phone's screen with shaky, unsteady fingers, navigating her way to the Atlanta news site. She found a similar headline and a similar update, posted just a couple of hours later than the original. It was the third largest link, but Beth couldn't bring herself to read it, let alone open it. She set her phone face-down on the nightstand and stood up, taking deep breaths and trying to steady her hands.

Jimmy was dead. Gone. Just like that. Forever. He'd never be coming back. He'd never be alive anywhere else. He would never be older than nineteen. Beth would never, ever, ever have to see his face or hear his voice again.

She was torn. Half of her was shaken to the very core, terrified and guilty at the same time, afraid this was all her fault and that he wouldn't be dead – nor would her family have ever been arrested – if it weren't for her. While the other half of her was relieved. She knew it made her an awful person to feel happy that someone died, but she couldn't help that she felt like a giant cut had just been stitched up. No, it wasn't healed, and it wasn't even close to being better, but it was dealt with. It was over. She wouldn't have to worry about that particular thing ever again. Jimmy had become one of her biggest nightmares. He'd transformed like a werewolf right before her eyes and before she knew it, he was a violent, hurtful, dangerous boy with an addiction problem and a dark, horrible, selfish mind. But now… he was gone.

There were so many questions in her mind. Most importantly, how had this not gone national yet? These stations were really pumping the story up as much as possible, and she wasn't even sure if they really had "sources" or if any of those things had been true. But she knew that at least half of it was factual, because she'd been there and witnessed it. And it was impossible to make a 911 call and keep it hidden. She'd known all along, in the back of her mind, that it would only be a matter of time until the news reporters had caught on, or they'd done the right amount of research, and discovered Jimmy and his little drug charges. But she hadn't expected to see the connection that indicated him as the catalyst for the downfall of her entire family. Somehow, it had never occurred to her. She hadn't had the foresight to think of how the detectives could've possibly cornered Jimmy and used him once they had him in custody. On top of everything else, should she hate him even more now for telling police whatever it was they needed to know to get a warrant and send two cops into her house?

Or was it possible that he was actually killed for exactly that reason…? Beth had no idea the depths of her father's connections or just how much he was capable of, especially now that he was in the corrections system and had nothing more to lose. Had he already found out what Jimmy did? Not that he needed any more reasons to have Jimmy killed. But she'd learned a long time ago to never underestimate Hershel.

The walls of her bedroom were beginning to feel like they were closing in on her. She took a few more deep breaths, but the air tasted stale. Her head was swimming and her throat was burning with both tears and bile. She slipped on a shirt and pants and left the bedroom, immediately turning right and heading straight for the bathroom. The door was open and it was empty, so she rushed inside, slamming the door behind her. She stumbled over the cool tile to the toilet, lifting the seat and crouching down to her knees in front of it. As soon as she allowed her body to do what it needed, she began vomiting into the toilet water. She coughed and heaved until her stomach was empty of nearly everything.

For a few minutes, she sat on her knees, head over the toilet bowl as she coughed and spit and tried to clear her mouth of the vile taste of thrown-up food. Her head was still swimming, but her stomach felt considerably better and she had stopped shaking once she was finished. After flushing, she brushed her teeth and splashed her face with cool water, taking deep breaths and finding the relief she'd been seeking.

When she left the bedroom, she saw Daryl sitting on the couch and watching TV in the living room, and she couldn't see Malachi but she could hear him playing around the corner. She saw Daryl glance up at the sound of her leaving the bathroom, and she looked down so he wouldn't notice her blue eyes. He didn't say anything, though, and she slipped back into her bedroom in silence.

The room felt normal again, and she was still reassuring herself in her head. She tried to let the good outweigh the bad and consider this a loose end that was finally tied up. But the bad thoughts kept poking their heads up, and the guilt was making itself at home in the back corner of her mind.

She lay down gently atop the bed, resting her head on the pillow and focusing on her breaths. She reached one hand under the pillow and gripped the ticking pocket watch in her hand. Her pulse pounded in time with it. She closed her eyes and pictured her daddy's smiling face, her momma right beside him, Shawn and Maggie talking in the distance. She pictured their green backyard, the silhouettes of Patricia and Otis and Arnold and a dozen others off in the fields and by the barn. She tried to remember what the Georgia air felt like on the back of her neck, or how ear-piercingly loud the cicadas were in the evening.

After about an hour of lying completely still and trying to calm herself, she found the motivation to get up and take a shower. She knew it would make her feel better, but she was also inexplicably tired. Yet not tired enough to drift back off to sleep.

She dragged herself out of bed and gathered her brown contacts and the cleanest pieces of clothing she could find, averting her eyes away from the crucifix on the wall that seemed to be staring her down. She left her bedroom and shut the door tight, then walked to the bathroom quietly without a glance towards the living room. She locked the door behind her and stripped down, stepping under the hot water and letting it wash away all the remnants of the smell of mold and dust from the old building that had settled in her hair and skin the night before.

The silence of the bathroom and the warm water calmed her even more, and she felt immensely better when she stepped out and dried off. She dressed slowly and leisurely, doing the same when she brushed her hair and patted it dry with the towel. She carefully slipped in the brown contacts and left the bathroom, leaving the exhaust fan on to air out the rest of the steam. This time, as she stepped down the hall toward her bedroom, she met Daryl's eyes when he glanced over at her from his spot on the couch. He gave a nod of greeting and she returned it before slipping back into her room and closing the door.

Beth returned to her bed, sitting up while she scrolled through the news sites on her phone. She forced herself to skim through the other article about Jimmy, just to be sure that they didn't have any different information. She found all the same facts and speculation worded into slightly different sentences, to her relief, and quickly exited the news sites altogether. With a sigh, she set the phone down and got up again, restlessness arising inside her.

When she left her bedroom to stroll to the kitchen, she saw that Daryl was still sitting on the couch, watching something on TV with deep interest. Malachi was playing on the floor a few feet away, glancing at the TV every now and then but mostly engulfed in the imaginary scenarios he was playing out with his toys. His toy box sat open nearby, and several dolls and action figures were scattered amongst the carpet. He glanced up to see Beth gliding into the kitchen, but he didn't seem to care because he went right back to his toys without a word to her.

Daryl, however, didn't let it go unnoticed, calling to her from the couch, "Left ya a sandwich from lunch in the microwave, if yer hungry."

Beth opened the microwave and checked to find that there was, in fact, something wrapped in foil sitting inside before answering, "Oh, thanks!"

Admittedly, she had no appetite at the moment. But she knew she needed to put something inside her stomach to replace what she'd lost earlier. She glanced at the cabinet above the fridge, hesitating for a second. Her stomach was silent, but her mind was still buzzing with thoughts of Jimmy and the news articles. She stepped over and quietly retrieved the bottle of moonshine, taking off the cap and throwing back a sip. Honestly, it was more out of curiosity than anything – she wanted to either assure herself that alcohol was a bad idea right now, or that it was the answer to all her problems. But as soon as it slid down her esophagus, her stomach churned and gurgled in protest. She cringed and returned the bottle to its spot in the cabinet, turning away in disgust. She wasn't sure what she'd really been expecting, but at least she knew that it wasn't going to help her right now.

In hopes that the smell of cooking food would bring her appetite back, Beth unwrapped the sandwich from its foil to find a cheesesteak, the bread still soft and warm. The meat, vegetables, and cheese had gotten a little cold, so she placed the sandwich on the plate without the foil and returned it to the microwave to heat it up. After pouring herself a glass of ginger ale from the fridge, she took the plate and her drink over to the table in the corner, where she sat down silently and began forcing herself to eat until it tasted good. The ginger ale helped to ease the gurgling in her stomach.

Daryl continued to sit in silence as he watched TV, occasionally glancing over at Beth from the corner of his eye. Malachi was speaking quietly to himself, voicing multiple characters and creating the sound effects for his toys' action sequences, having only glanced at Beth when she sat down and given her a brief wave of greeting. About halfway into the sandwich, she realized she was probably being rude by not speaking.

"Thanks for saving me some lunch," she said softly, glancing at Daryl. He nodded and continued watching TV.

She turned to look at the screen, watching for a few moments as she absent-mindedly ate and trying to figure out what show it was. But in all honesty, she hadn't watched any real television in quite a while. The farm had become more than enough to keep her and her family busy, and when she had time to kill, she usually resorted to writing or music. She hadn't expected Daryl to be the type to sit down and watch TV either. But she figured this must be his only day of real relaxation during the week.

The rain continued outside, and some of the curtains had been pulled back from the windows in the living room to reveal a cloudy sky with hints of sunlight trying to break through. It was already nearing evening and the rumbles of thunder continued every few minutes, but there was no lighting to accompany it. From where she sat, Beth could see some of the tops of buildings outside and saw that everything in the distance looked wet. The rain had soaked the whole city all night and all day long. She wondered if that was half the reason for Daryl and Malachi's homebody attitudes today.

As Beth finished the last bites of her sandwich, continuing to sip the ginger ale occasionally, she watched the TV with mild interest. There were a lot of people she didn't recognize talking to each other, covered in blood and dirt and sweat. There were also a lot of weapons, from guns to machetes to crossbows.

"What're you watching?" She finally asked, looking to Daryl.

He didn't meet her gaze, continuing to watch the action on the screen as he answered, "Just this dumb zombie show I started watchin' a couple years back. Got me hooked, I've been watchin' ever since. They're playin' a marathon today."

Beth smirked to herself as she watched with him, surprised that he indulged in something as fantastical as "zombies." She got up and took her plate to the sink, pouring herself some more ginger ale before returning to the living room. She set her glass on the coffee table and sat down on the couch, a few spots away from Daryl. They were in similar positions as they had been on the night that they'd sat in silence. The memory popped into Beth's head for a second before she was able to distract herself with what was happening on the TV screen. Before long, all the awkward or uncomfortable feelings she had were gone, and she was just sitting on the couch while watching TV with her roommate. The normalcy was comforting.

About a half hour, and maybe five particularly graphic zombie deaths on the TV, passed before Malachi spoke up from his spot on the floor, "Dad, what's fer supper?"

Daryl looked to his son, his concentration on the TV show broken, and answered, "I dunno, whadd'ya want?"

Malachi shrugged, adjusting the head on one of his action figures. "I'unno."

"That's not very helpful," Daryl mumbled, watching the TV again.

"I'll make somethin'," Beth volunteered. "Any requests?"

Daryl shrugged without a glance at Beth. "I'unno."

She chuckled. "You're about as helpful as the toddler."

He rolled his eyes and gave a smirk but kept watching his show, so Beth got up and went to the kitchen to look around and decide what to make. She welcomed the busywork as a distraction for her mind, letting herself think only about the food she was cooking and the bits of the show she could see on the TV from the kitchen. She didn't ask the boys if they would eat what she was making, assuming they would begin to smell it and get hungry. And sure enough, after a short while, Daryl wandered into the kitchen during a commercial break to survey the situation.

Beth had tomato soup cooking in a pot on the stove, and she was currently preparing grilled cheese sandwiches in a pan next to it. Daryl gazed into the pot of soup, intrigued.

"Didn't realize I bought enough soup fer all of us," he commented, assuming she'd warmed up the cans of condensed tomato soup that he'd bought.

"You didn't. I made it with my momma's recipe," Beth replied without thinking. She stopped herself before saying anything more, though.

Daryl grunted in surprise, "Didn't realize we had the ingredients, then."

She gave him a small smile that said he was underestimating her, and he nodded in approval before going to the cabinets and retrieving plates and bowls for the meal. As Beth stirred the soup absent-mindedly, keeping her eye on the melting cheese between the bread in the pan, she remembered something that she'd been forgetting for the last couple of days.

"By the way, where d'you go to do your laundry?" She asked.

As he poured glasses of juice for himself and Malachi, Daryl answered, "Oh, we go to Carol's. She's got a washer an' dryer. I ain't got the space for 'em."

Beth felt a small pinch of anxiety and decided to push off the thought of going to Carol's apartment and having to ask permission to wash her clothes for now. Maybe she'd even avoid it altogether and just find a laundromat. She didn't like the way Carol had looked at her, and she was guessing that Carol wasn't very impressed by her either.

"Mal, we're havin' grilled cheese an' tomato soup!" Daryl called, picking up the two glasses of juice he'd poured and carefully taking them to the dining table.

Beth could hear Malachi's voice asking his father a question, but couldn't make out the words from where she stood in the kitchen. She began spooning the soup out into bowls, giving Malachi's a half-portion. She then placed the grilled cheese sandwiches on the plates just as Daryl re-entered the kitchen.

"Thanks for cookin'," Daryl said, carefully picking up Malachi's designated bowl and plate.

"No problem. Seemed like the perfect supper for this weather," Beth answered with a content smile as she finished browning the last bits of her own sandwich and placed it on her plate while Daryl took his son's meal to the table.

Without a mention of it, Daryl retrieved a fold-up chair he'd forgotten about from his bedroom and set it in the empty spot at the table. The surface was a bit crowded with three bowls, three glasses, and three plates, but the trio ate in content silence as Daryl continued to watch the TV from where he sat and Malachi asked questions about the show while slopping tomato soup all over his chin. Beth watched them both with amusement, eating her small portions of food slowly as she was still mostly full from her lunch.

When a long commercial break came on, Daryl devoted his full attention to his meal and helping Malachi get more soup into his mouth than onto his face. He asked Beth casually, "So ya made friends with the girls yesterday?"

The question startled her as she didn't expect much small talk around Daryl. But she shrugged. "I 'spose. I dunno if they really like me but they seemed nice."

He finally looked over at her, but she couldn't read his expression. She wondered if he was trying to be friendly because the closeness made him feel obligated or if he was genuinely curious. "They invited ya out, didn't they? Yer their friend now. Don't really have a say in it. I didn't, anyway."

Beth chuckled and he smirked back, assuring her that he was only half-joking.

"Did ya like the class? Learn anything?" He asked.

She shrugged again, feeling her cheeks blushing lightly. "Yeah, it was – really interesting. I liked it. Thanks for inviting me."

He nodded, pleased. "It's every week, if ya wanna come again. 'M sure the girls expect ya to be there."

Beth thought about asking if Carol would be there next week, but Malachi spoke up with a question instead.

"Dad, um – can uh, can we r-read Harry Potter tonight?" The toddler asked, tripping on his words as he tried to focus on his sandwich at the same time.

Daryl looked over at his son and smiled, "Ain't you tired o' that yet?"

Malachi grinned goofily and shook his head with wide, excited eyes, "No! I love it!"

Daryl shook his head and Beth interjected, feeling the sudden urge to be included after spending the afternoon with the pair, "Which one are you reading?"

Malachi met her eyes and answered, "Chanberd of Seek-rits!"

"Chamber of Secrets," Daryl corrected as he helped himself to another spoonful of soup.

"Oh, I love those books. Can I read with you?" Beth asked, watching Malachi's eyes light up at the prospect.

He nodded eagerly, "Yeah! Will you, um, will y'do the voices like Dad does?"

Beth's eyebrows rose in surprise and she looked to Daryl with a surprised smile. "You do the voices?"

Daryl stared down into his soup and shrugged, trying not to look up. "A li'l."

After the trio had finished their dinner and cleaned up their dishes, as well as put away the leftovers, Malachi eagerly showed Beth his collection of Harry Potter books and opened up the "Chamber of Secrets" for her to begin reading. Daryl turned down the TV and sat on the couch, paying his full attention to the book-reading. Beth and Malachi sat down on the floor together amongst his toys and she found the chapter in the book where the pair had previously left off. She began reading, the words taking her full attention as she attempted to do character voices and give emphasis to the sentences she was reading aloud. A few times, she glanced up to see Malachi staring at her in wonder, eyes wide and intrigued, laughing when she'd do a particularly funny voice or speaking up about his dislike of some characters. From the corner of her eye, she saw Daryl sitting on the couch, watching her and Malachi carefully while he listened. There were a couple times when she swore she saw him smile just like his son.

They sat together, Beth reading aloud, for well over an hour. Around 7:30, there was a knock at the door, and Daryl motioned for Beth to continue while he jumped up and answered it. Malachi and Beth glanced over to see Carol once Daryl had opened the door, but the toddler turned his attention back to the book while Beth watched the pair from her peripherals. She tried to focus on the book, but she could hear Daryl and Carol talking quietly to each other. The exchange only lasted a couple of minutes before the short-haired woman waved over Daryl's shoulder to Beth and Malachi before turning and heading to her apartment. Daryl shut the door and returned to his spot on the floor next to his son.

Beth didn't ask what they talked about. Instead, she continued reading, letting herself get lost in the magical wizarding world once more. But once it was nearing eight o'clock, Daryl announced that it was time for Malachi to pick up his toys and get ready for bed. Beth obliged and slipped the bookmark back in between the pages of the thick book, having just stopped at the end of a chapter. Malachi protested but was quickly silenced by a stern look from his father.

Daryl helped the toddler pick up his scattered toys, returning them to the toy box before leading Malachi to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Beth carefully placed the book back in its spot on the shelf of the bookcase, then slipped into her bedroom and shut the door. She could hear the sounds of the water running in the sink next door and the boys talking to each other as she grabbed her phone and began scrolling through the news sites. It was reassuring to find no new updates about her family.

She reached beneath her pillow and felt the gun still in its spot, as well as the pocket watch. She pulled out the photo and held it up, gazing at it for a bit in the light from her beside lamp. She wondered if Jesus would ever have a way to pass messages to Maggie. She wanted her sister to know she was okay. But maybe Maggie wasn't even concerned with Beth right now. What if she was too worried about her own fate? She'd be facing court soon, and a sentencing of who knows how long. If anything, Beth feared she was jealous of her little sister for being free. Did she assume she was already in another country? If she'd corresponded with Jesus the way he'd said she had, then she must know how long the process actually took.

Frustrated, Beth shoved the photo back under her pillow and tried to clear her head of thoughts about her sister. She was no mind reader, and Maggie had never been easy to predict. Beth wished more than anything that she could just exchange one letter with her big sister. She just needed to know what she was supposed to do, or if Maggie had a plan at the end of all this.

The sounds in the bathroom had silenced for several minutes. Beth stared up at the ceiling blankly, feeling as though she should be crying about Jimmy but finding no urge to do such a thing. A light knock at the door made her jump, shaking her from her thoughts. She looked at the door quizzically before standing and walking over to open it.

It was Daryl, obviously. But he'd changed into pajamas. "What're ya doin' in here?"

Beth shrugged, hand still on the door as she held it partly open. "Nothin'. Reading stuff on my phone, I guess."

Daryl glanced around behind her, as if expecting to see another person. He nodded and muttered, "Wanna finish that marathon with me? New episode starts soon."

She was taken aback by his offer, but accepted without hesitation. "Sure. That'd be – nice."

He didn't smile but nodded again and turned to lead her back to the living room couch. She followed, spotting the bedroom door at the end of the hall open just a crack. They took their spots on the couch, the same as earlier, and resumed watching the show as if they'd never left. Daryl kept the volume a bit lower to help Malachi sleep.

Beth found herself distracted for a while. Her head was still racing with all the thoughts it normally was. It was beginning to get annoying. She didn't want such a busy mind and so many unanswered questions. She could try to distract herself with making friends with Daryl or his son, or getting wrapped up in the drama of random women she'd just met, but at the end of the day, she was alone with herself and all her thoughts… and everything she'd done. Not even a quiet night of TV on the couch could make her forget how much she had to worry about in the coming months. And having no deadline or end date in sight for this suffering was causing her even more stress.

After an especially gory depiction of a zombie getting its head smashed in the trunk of a car, Daryl spoke up suddenly to ask Beth, "Want some ice cream?"

She nodded instinctually, dragged back to reality by the question as Daryl jumped up and headed to the kitchen. She hadn't even realized they had ice cream. Within moments, Daryl returned with two bowls of chocolate ice cream, handing one to Beth before taking his seat again. She took the bowl happily and began digging in while watching TV wordlessly.

When the new episode came on the screen, Daryl made random comments every few minutes or so, his empty ice cream bowl sitting next to Beth's on the coffee table. Beth was amused by his indulgence in the plot of the show and glanced at him when he talked. She laughed aloud at him when he got angry about a side character's death, and he cursed quietly at the television while she stifled her giggles.

She found herself happily distracted by the time the show was over. Daryl shook his head and changed the channel, turning to Beth.

"Think I'mma head t'bed," he told her, and she nodded in agreement.

"Me, too. Even though I probably won't be able to sleep," she said, standing from the couch and stretching.

"Well, got that booze in there," Daryl said, turning off the TV and standing and grabbing the bowls to take them to the kitchen sink.

Beth cringed and shook her head, "Not really feelin' it tonight. My stomach's been a little uh – upset today."

She saw him nod in understanding as he filled the bowls with water at the sink and left them, shutting off all the lights except for above the stove. He chuckled, but it seemed to be more to himself than to her, as if he'd just made a private joke in his head.

"Yeah, been there. That's why I got medical weed," he mumbled.

Beth quirked an eyebrow, "Is that what you were smokin' the other night?"

His face fell and he met her eyes, quickly muttering, "Yeah. Does it bother you?"

She shook her head, "No. It's just not for me."

He shrugged, "Me either. I just need it every once in a while… It was one o' those days."

She knew he meant the anniversary of Malachi's mother's death, but she didn't say it. Instead, she nodded and turned her body to gesture that she was going to return to her bedroom. Daryl muttered a goodnight and turned to head to his own room while she slipped behind her door and shut it tightly.

Beth lay in bed, in the darkness, for a while. The time ticked by just as slowly as it had the last few nights, but now she had nothing to look forward to. She scrolled through news articles on her phone mindlessly, but her eyes weren't growing tired. When she gave up on that, she turned on the lamp and slipped out into the living room to grab a book from the bookcase. She read for hours, and eventually, the warmth of her bed alongside the sound of the steady rainfall outside made her eyes weary as she absorbed chapter after chapter. The apartment was silent the entire time as Daryl and Malachi slept peacefully down the hall.

She finally fell asleep just before dawn, as the rain eased up and the clouds dissipated into fog outside. After a relieving break for the past couple of nights, she began dreaming again. But this time, it was nonsensical, and all Beth could remember when she woke up were zombies from the show she'd been watching with Daryl and lots of special appearances from Rosita, Tara, Clem, and Enid.

And she couldn't quite remember exactly, but she was pretty sure that Daryl had been in one of her dreams, too.

to be continued…

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A/N: Sorry for the wait on this chapter. I had a really hectic and exhausting week with work and errands and this chapter ended up longer than I'd planned so I wanted to make sure it was perfect before posting. No wins from the Moonshine Awards this year, but that's okay, because being nominated was honestly amazing for me, so I'm just stoked on that. Thank you SOOOO much if you voted for me, though! :)
If you couldn't tell, the other character making a cameo in this chapter alongside Jesus is Aaron, though I couldn't name him specifically for pretty obvious reasons. I hope you liked this chapter and what I'm slowly revealing about the Greene family and their operation. But if you don't, feel free to let me know. To answer a question I recently received: no, we will most likely NOT be seeing the other side of the Greene's - as in, them in court and in prison and whatnot. I don't know nearly enough to go into that kind of depth, and plus I am intending for this story to be narrative but with only the knowledge that Beth has, so we won't see anyone's perspective except Beth's. Sorry. We will, however, be seeing a lot more flashbacks to the Greene farm and how things came to be the way they are, as well as Beth's relationship with Jimmy. As always, if you found inconsistencies or mistakes, please let me know! And thank you for reading!