i wanna live in the city with no friends or family;

Beth was standing face-to-face with Detective Dawn Lerner. They were somewhere dark that Beth didn't recognize and Dawn was in her usual spotless uniform, gun holstered at her side. She and Beth were nearly the same height, no more than inch in difference. Beth knew this wasn't real; she'd never been this close to Dawn, ever. Yet at the moment, she couldn't decipher from reality.

Dawn's narrowed, blue eyes stared intensely into Beth's.

A chill ran through her and then Dawn was speaking, her words spat out like venom, "You're a cop killer."

Beth's mouth was moving before she could think about the words. "I would never kill somebody."

"But you did," Dawn snapped.

Beth swallowed hard, tears pooling in her eyes. Her voice came out choked, "No, I didn't mean – "

"What do you think the others would do if they found out?" Dawn interrupted, eyebrow arched.

Beth felt two inches tall. She fought back the tears that were building.

Her voice was no longer her own. "They'd turn me in."

For the first time ever, Beth saw Dawn's mouth turn upwards into a vicious smile. And when she spoke, her lips began dripping with blood, dribbling down her chin and onto the front of her impeccable uniform. "You have no one left. They're all locked up. Where you gonna go? There's nowhere else for you to go, nowhere to run, nowhere that you can hide…"

And then Beth was sitting up and gasping for breath, opening her eyes and blinking to find herself in the dark bedroom of apartment 3A. Her face was wet and she reached up to wipe it away, quickly realizing she'd been crying in her sleep. Her forehead was damp with perspiration and she still felt breathless… terrified.

But why? She'd never had an interaction anywhere close to that with Detective Lerner. Her daddy had always dealt with it, and he'd usually become furious if he spotted any cops talking to Beth without his direct permission or supervision. Yet now, the dark-haired woman was haunting Beth's dreams, reminding her of the reality of her situation in one of the worst ways possible.

She knew it was inevitable. No matter what she did, no matter how briefly happy or content she managed to feel by spending time with Daryl or Malachi or the others, it was all constantly looming in the back of her mind: she was a murderer, she'd taken a man's life; she'd abandoned her family; and now, she was surrounded by Georgia natives and security cameras and news articles asking where she'd run to. Sitting next to the boxes of fear and paranoia was a giant, overstuffed trunk of guilt. And Beth really, really didn't feel like unpacking.

But looking away from the heavy baggage only proved to work for so long. Until it caught up with her in ways like this. Just like Jimmy and August Eleventh. Just like the pregnancy. Her own mind was the worst weapon because it was constantly being used against her. If she tried to distract herself or forget about something, there was always a reminder that popped up to keep her well-grounded. At this point, though, she felt so grounded that it was like being buried inside a grave: the bullet inside Shane Walsh was the casket, running away from Georgia was the cement vault, and settling down in New York City was the hundreds of pounds of earth packed on top. And maybe lying to Daryl and Carol and all the others would be the headstone.

For the first moment she was awake, Beth was still disoriented and fighting to calm her racing heartbeat. Then she remembered exactly where she was and where she'd been before falling asleep, and she realized the bed was empty. She glanced around in confusion, an indention still left in the pillow that Daryl had been sleeping on. The clock read 5:22. There were no sounds coming from anywhere in the apartment and she rationalized that he'd probably gotten up to tend to Mal.

She tried to ignore the part of her that wished Daryl had been there when she'd woken up to comfort her, like the last time she'd had a nightmare.

Instead, Beth reached over and grabbed the bottle of water sitting on her nightstand to take a long drink, then laid back down and rolled over. She closed her eyes and tried to fall back asleep, but she found herself listening for Daryl's footsteps in the hall. After several minutes of silence, she focused on getting back to sleep. But every time she began to enter that hazy state right before drifting off, Lerner's face would appear menacingly in the blacks of her eyelids, and she'd have to open her eyes and take long, deep breaths.

She battled like this for what felt like a long time, growing fed up and deciding to give in to temptation. She got out of bed and quietly walked down the hall to the boys' bedroom, the door still half-open like it normally was at night. Beth silently approached and peeked her head inside, squinting through the dim lighting of Mal's nightlight. The toddler's bed was surprisingly empty and she glanced back over to Daryl's bed to see Mal curled up near the edge of the bed with Daryl's arms around him, both of them sleeping soundly.

Beth decided not to disturb them, wondering if Mal had another nightmare, too. She found herself thinking, Guess we're all a little fucked up around here.

Instead of trying to go back to bed and force herself to drift in and out of a hazy, nightmarish terror, she wandered to the living room and turned on the TV, then curled up on the couch with a pillow and a throw blanket. She kept the volume low and left all the lights off, finding a rerun of Scrubs and deciding it was the only decent thing on at such an early hour. The window was still open and the cool morning breeze circulated through the living room as birds awoke outside and the hints of a sunrise were appearing on the horizon. But the city was still sleeping, and Beth wished she could be, too.

She wasn't sure if it was the dream or if her body was still trained to wake up at this time on Sunday mornings. A part of her even felt a little guilty for sleeping in and lying around when, a month ago, she was up, dressed, and eating by six a.m. every single Sunday. Then again, a lot more had drastically changed since then besides just her Sunday morning routine. Her situation no longer felt like some kind of weird vacation – it was starting to feel like permanence. Or temporary permanence, in a way.

Even though she was curled up and comfortable on the couch with cool morning air on her face, she still wasn't falling back to sleep anytime soon. Her mind was relentless, and she couldn't get Dawn Lerner out of her head. She fought the urge to grab her phone from the bedroom and scour all the news sites for updates on her family's case or information on Lerner. She was beginning to think she'd give herself an ulcer if she kept up like this.

Then the sound of tiny footsteps reached her ears, and she sat up to look toward the hall and see Mal wandering into the living room, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His blond hair was messy and sticking up in random spots, and he walked slowly toward Beth. At first, she expected to see Daryl following behind him, but then she realized the toddler had woken up first and slipped out of bed without disturbing his dad. She wasn't very surprised considering how tired Daryl had been the night before.

Without a word, Malachi climbed up onto the couch and curled up beside her. She lifted the blanket to share it and he cuddled in close to her side beneath the small blanket. She sat back and put an arm around him as they watched TV together in silence.

"Do – can you put on Nemo?" Mal asked quietly, his voice sleepy.

Beth chuckled softly and grabbed the remote, pressing Play on Finding Nemo a moment later. As the title screen came up and they settled into the couch together, she asked, "You like Nemo?"

"Mm-hmm," Mal replied, sleepy blue eyes locked on the TV screen. "Nemo um, his mom died like me. And his dad loves him lots."

Beth felt a small pang of sympathy for the toddler, struck silent for a few seconds. She hadn't expected quite that answer. Then she mumbled, "Yeah… he does love him lots. Just like you an' your dad."

"And-and I like his little fin," Mal said with a giggle.

Beth chuckled softly and ran her hand over his mussed blond hair, smoothing down some of the crazier parts.

They didn't say anything else, and she was surprised because she hadn't seen him stay this quiet before – except when he was asleep. But he seemed to be content sitting with "Rosie" and watching Finding Nemo while Daryl continued to sleep. There was something calm and peaceful about that time right before sunrise, and Beth didn't even give a second thought to how natural it felt to be exactly where she was right now.

She hadn't realized she'd drifted off until she was opening her eyes to find the end credits for the movie playing on the TV screen with Mal still curled up beside her, having fallen asleep as well. She turned her head and saw Daryl sitting sideways in one of the chairs at the dining table, back leaned against the wall and arms crossed over his chest. He had a little half-smile on his face as he gazed at her, and she realized he'd been watching them sleep. For how long, though, she wasn't sure.

Beth blinked the sleep from her eyes and met Daryl's gaze, giving him a playful smile. "You know it's creepy ta watch somebody sleep, right?"

He chuckled softly and uncrossed his arms, standing up as Mal began to stir. "Wasn't sittin' here long enough for it t'be creepy," he rumbled. "Want some coffee?"

She nodded and watched Daryl turn and walk away to the kitchen, then looked down to see that Mal was opening his eyes and waking up. He looked around, disoriented at first, then yawned and stretched out, pulling the blanket off of himself. He climbed off the couch and toddled to the kitchen, eyes on his father.

"I'm hungwy," he announced, sounding much more awake than he had before his nap on the couch.

"I know, bud, I'm startin' the coffee an' then I'm startin' breakfast," Daryl said, his voice carrying through the small apartment.

Beth stretched out on the couch and listened to the sounds of Daryl and Mal in the kitchen, the smell of cooking food quickly filling the air. The sun was up and early morning sunlight poured in through the windows, occasionally interrupted by the dark clouds that were floating through the sky. The city had come to life in the last couple of hours and it played as background noise to Beth's Sunday morning with the boys.

She eventually grew bored of staring at more reruns playing on TV and decided to get up before Daryl was finished cooking, remembering her antibiotic. She went into her bedroom, not bothering to shut the door behind her as she intended to turn around and walk back out in less than a minute, and opened the drawer to dig out the sock that held her medication. She pulled the bottle out and retrieved one of the pills, popping it into her mouth and quickly stuffing the small, orange bottle back into the sock.

"What're you doin' that for?"

Daryl's low voice coming from right behind her nearly made her heart leap into her throat. She visibly jumped and spun around, face immediately heating up as she realized he'd snuck in behind her silently and witnessed… what, exactly?

Now that she was standing here and thinking about it, she couldn't even explain to herself why she'd been hiding the antibiotics in the first place.

He was staring at her quizzically, searching her face for an answer. He glanced at the sock in her hand and his expression only grew more confused. "What is that?"

Beth started, "I…"

Wait – why would I lie? She thought. He knows about the abortion, I can just tell him the truth. Even though… I can't explain why I was hiding it… Why was I hiding it?

Daryl was staring at her with growing concern, and she could see all the horrible conclusions he was already jumping to in his eyes. She realized she needed to quickly diffuse the situation before he assumed she was some sort of secret pill addict or drug dealer.

She pulled the bottle back out from the sock and held it out for him to see the label, explaining quietly, "It's – just my antibiotic. From the… surgery."

He glanced down at the label and his face immediately relaxed, then he looked back into her eyes. "Oh. I – but why're you hidin' it?"

Beth shrugged and tossed the sock back into the open drawer behind her. "Didn't want Mal t'get into it, I guess." It was the only explanation that she could think of that made any sort of sense – to her or anyone else.

Daryl didn't appear convinced but he nodded anyway, stroking his chin hair thoughtfully and continuing to study her face. "Huh… alright."

Her cheeks were still warm and she turned around to set the pill bottle atop her dresser, close to the wall and out of the reach of small hands. She absent-mindedly fidgeted with the bandana around her wrist as she turned back around and faced Daryl again, meeting his eyes but quickly glancing away. She still felt like she'd been caught doing something wrong and she didn't know why.

"Why're you sneakin' up behind me like that anyway?" She asked, trying to sound more light-hearted than she currently felt.

Daryl shrugged, then rumbled, "You don't – Ya ain't gotta hide that kinda stuff from me…"

Beth's stomach did a tiny flip and she met his eyes. "I know. I'm not…"

Am I? She thought. Why would I hide something that I don't have to…?

He gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment, nodding. She could see he was a little more troubled by the situation than he was letting on, but he didn't seem eager to drag it out. He glanced over his shoulder toward the hallway and Beth realized she couldn't hear Mal's voice. She furrowed her brow.

"Where is he?" She asked, hoping to change the subject more than anything.

"In the bedroom, playin' while he waits fer breakfast," Daryl replied.

Then she noticed the way he was glancing at her lips… and a little farther down. She blushed lightly.

With another brief check over his shoulder, Daryl quickly closed the distance between them and lightly pushed Beth back toward the wall until she was pinned between it and his body. The contact alone sent a bolt of electricity straight between her legs and once again, she resented the fact that they still had a week-and-a-half to wait. But then his lips were on hers and she was closing her eyes, sinking down into the comfortable smell and taste of him.

The moment felt a bit stolen because she knew they were trying to keep out of sight of Malachi, and it almost seemed like Daryl would be kissing her every ten minutes if it weren't for the presence of his kid. Nonetheless, it made her heart beat a little faster, and maybe it was because she knew they were doing something that maybe they probably shouldn't have been doing. Except she'd never really been the type to get a thrill out of taking risks.

But then again, it could've been because Daryl was the safest risk Beth was currently taking.

After breakfast, Daryl helped Mal get cleaned up and dressed for the day. Beth sat on the couch and sipped coffee while she absent-mindedly watched televised church services. When they emerged from the hall, Mal headed straight for the bookcase and Beth watched as the toddler pulled out a small stack of children's books and carried them to the dining table. Daryl helped him up into his chair and then laid out the books atop the table along with paper and a whole bowl of crayons and markers, pulling the other chair up beside his son. The boys hunched over the books and paper and Beth listened as they sounded out words and read through books together, occasionally switching off to attempt at writing letters or drawing pictures.

She decided not to intrude on their father/son time and remained on the couch, keeping the church TV to a low volume while she only paid half-attention. At one point, she retrieved her phone from the bedroom and scrolled through all the news sites, but there wasn't an ounce of anything pertaining to her or her family. A part of her was on edge, wondering if she'd find another article by Jenny Jones soon.

It was confusing because a really small part of her was almost eager to see another article pop up – she was genuinely curious as to what this reporter lady could really dig up. Beth felt that it was a promising and dangerous sign that Mrs. Jones had put two-and-two together when it came to Jimmy and her family's arrest. At this point, she was almost curious to see what else would be discovered – and how it could affect the way people thought about the Greene family.

Then again, she often felt that her life would be much better if she didn't know the truth about much of anything. Especially when it came to her family.

Beth grew bored of watching TV after an hour or so and turned it off before heading into the kitchen and cleaning up the dishes from breakfast. When that was done, she went to the bathroom – relieved to find the blood getting lighter and lighter with every passing day. Then she wandered back to the living room, intending to grab her empty coffee mug and refill it. But when she got back to the couch, there was a piece of paper lying on the spot where she'd been sitting.

She picked it up and quickly realized it was drawn by Mal – he'd written "Malachi" out in big, red crayon letters at the top of the paper. Below that was a drawing of three oddly-shaped blob people. After a few seconds of inspection, she could see that it was supposed to be Daryl, Mal, and "Rosie" standing together. One of the blobs had big, blue dots for eyes and short, dark squiggles for hair, though the second blob had short, dark, squiggly hair, too, but it also had squiggles around the mouth, like facial hair. It was obviously supposed to be Daryl, boots and all. Of course, the blob that was supposed to be Mal had yellow squiggles for hair and little, blue dots for eyes, and a big smile as it stood placed right between the Daryl and "Rosie" blobs.

"Wow, who drew this?" Beth asked aloud, turning to look at the boys as they sat at the table. She found Daryl looking right at her, having been watching her as she found the drawing. He had a tiny smirk on his mouth as he stroked his chin hair absent-mindedly.

Mal turned around with a grin on his face. "Do – do you like it?!"

"Um, I love it!" Beth replied, smiling. "Did you draw this?"

Mal nodded. "Yeah!"

"I dunno – are you sure your dad didn't draw it?" She teased.

The toddler shook his head, still grinning. "No – that-that's my name on the top!"

She made a show of looking down at the paper again and widening her eyes. "Oh, wow! You wrote that? You're really good at spelling!"

His grin grew larger and he turned back to Daryl, who was smirking as he watched the exchange.

"I'm gonna put this right on my wall," Beth announced, grabbing a thumbtack from a small container sitting on the bar and taking the drawing to her bedroom.

The sound of small, hurried footsteps quickly came from behind her, and after she pinned the drawing to the wall above her bed, she turned around to see Malachi standing just inside the bedroom door. He was gazing at his piece of art hanging on her wall with wide eyes and a proud smile on his face. Daryl appeared in the doorway and surveyed the situation, locking eyes with Beth after he saw the expression on his son's face. She got the feeling that this was one of those moments when he would've liked to kiss her, even if just a small peck on the lips.

Mal's drawing pictures of us together – maybe we're in too deep already, she thought. What's it matter if Mal knows at this point?

But she quickly pushed it aside because she knew what it meant to Daryl, and she wasn't about to push her luck. If he didn't want Mal to know about them and get confused, then she had to help keep it from him. Even if that meant a little more self-control than she or Daryl would've preferred.

With Beth's bedroom door shut tightly and another cup of coffee in her hands, she returned to her spot on the couch while the boys resumed their projects at the table. She half-listened to them while gazing at the TV screen and sipping coffee, her mind wandering to a hundred other places. At one point, she curled up on the couch with her Bible and tried to find that pleasant feeling of nostalgia as she read.

The morning faded into afternoon as the sun rose higher in the sky outside, and after a long morning of reading, writing, drawing, and taking breaks to play with toys, Malachi was complaining that he was hungry again. Daryl gave him a small snack in the late morning, but it only kept him quiet for about an hour. So, at barely half past noon, Daryl put together some sandwiches and chopped up some potatoes to cook into fries.

Daryl didn't ask Beth if she was hungry or if she wanted lunch, but he made her a plate nonetheless and then announced that lunch was ready, as if it were an everyday thing. She joined the boys at the table to eat, listening as Malachi told stories, asked questions, and generally babbled. She couldn't help but feel like she was right where she was supposed to be – even though she couldn't explain it.

They were nearly done with lunch when a knock came at the front door. Daryl quickly wiped his hands with a napkin and stood from the table to walk over and answer it, and Beth watched over her shoulder. Mal seemed to be too preoccupied with dipping his last few fries into the mixture of ketchup and mayonnaise that he'd blended together at the beginning of the meal.

When Daryl opened the door, Carol was standing on the other side with a warm smile on her face. She briefly glanced over Daryl's shoulder and met Beth's eyes, nodding in acknowledgment. Beth turned back to finish her lunch while she listened to their exchange in the doorway.

"Mornin'," Daryl greeted.

"Afternoon – what're y'all up to today?" Carol asked.

"I'ono, we're finishin' up lunch right now an' then I was gonna put the kid down fer a nap," Daryl rumbled. "Didn't really plan anythin' past that."

"Oh, that's perfect – we were gonna go to the park again today. It's so nice out," Carol said. "D'you guys wanna come? We thought we'd do an early dinner instead of lunch this time."

Daryl grunted thoughtfully and Beth instinctively glanced over her shoulder, feeling his eyes on her. And they were. He was looking back at her, and she raised her eyebrows in return. But then he turned back to Carol and Beth watched quizzically for a second.

"Which park?" Daryl asked.

"I don't care," Carol answered. "You wanna try that other one?"

"Yeah – more li'l kids at that one," Daryl said, his voice getting quieter. "Think it might be good ta get him around some more kids his own age."

"Oh – well, we can talk about that later," Carol said, lowering her voice as well. "At the park."

"So's you an' Tobin an' the kids?" Daryl asked.

"Mm-hmm," Carol confirmed. "Just come by after Mal wakes up."

Daryl agreed and a few seconds later, he was shutting the door and returning to his seat at the table and his lunch. Mal was finishing the last bite of his sandwich while Beth watched him, her plate sitting empty before her.

"Dad, are we goin' to the park?" Mal asked, eyes full of excitement.

Daryl nodded and swallowed his mouthful of food before answering, "Yep – but ya gotta take yer nap first. Then we can go with Carol an' Sophia, an' Tobin an' that other kid."

"Charlie?" Mal asked. "Oh – can um, is Rosie gonna go?"

The toddler looked to Beth, smiling eagerly.

Beth chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, of course!" Then she looked to Daryl and added, "If you want."

Daryl quirked an eyebrow and stuffed the last bite of sandwich into his mouth, giving Beth a face that she could only interpret as "duh." He looked to his son, who was smiling wider.

"Yeah! Ple-e-e-ease!" Mal said.

She giggled softly and nodded. "Okay. Sounds like a plan."

As she looked back and forth between Daryl and Malachi, she could see the unmistakable resemblance in their crooked half-smiles. And even though she knew she really shouldn't be going out to a public park right now, she just couldn't bring herself to say no.

She tried to remind herself that the paranoia was a necessity, at least for now. But she also reasoned that being in such a huge city would only strengthen her chances of not being spotted or recognized. She could blend in. Just like she'd blended into the apartment, into the group of girls, and into Daryl and Malachi. Just like she'd blended into the farm and the church and her family. Just like she'd been blending in for as long as she could remember.

Then again, she still didn't understand why Tobin had looked at her the way he did, and she wasn't sure if she was putting herself at risk by letting him see her and get to know her. Was that paranoia, or was that her senses picking up on something? She almost dreaded being around him more than she had to, but she knew that hiding away would only make her seem more suspicious.

After cleaning up the table and kitchen from lunch, Daryl took Mal to the bedroom for naptime while Beth returned to the couch. A few minutes later, Daryl was plopping down beside her, heaving a sigh of relief at the well-deserved peace and quiet. The apartment seemed oddly quiet without Mal's chatter, though.

Neither of them spoke as they watched TV, an old romantic comedy playing on the screen. Then, as a commercial break started, Beth scooted over until she could rest her head on Daryl's shoulder. She curled her legs up beside her and leaned into his side, and she felt him relax against her almost immediately. They still didn't talk, but it didn't seem necessary. She could feel him slowly leaning the side of his face against the top of her head as he relaxed further.

And once again, she could feel herself blending in.

I have to stop being so paranoid about Tobin, she told herself, thinking about the trip to the park they'd be making together in a couple of short hours. There's no way he recognizes me from anywhere… I just have to stay invisible. I'm good at it, I can keep it up for a little while longer.

She felt Daryl's warm hand over hers and she interlaced their fingers together, giving it a squeeze. He squeezed her hand back and all the anxiety in her gut faded away.

T-Dog's dark SUV pulled up in the driveway on Saturday morning, three days after Annette and Shawn were murdered on the second floor of the Greene farmhouse. It was a beautiful April morning, though the inside of the large house felt dark and gloomy. A heavy shadow hung over the entire household, similar to the heavy bags that hung below everyone's eyes. It was the first day they'd had free of any police presence since countless swarms of authorities had shown up on Wednesday night.

Their numbers fluctuated come Thursday morning, but their presence inside the farmhouse and all around the yard kept Beth hidden inside her bedroom all day and night, except to use the bathroom and get food. Come Friday evening, the two remaining vehicles parked out in the road finally drove off, but Beth still had little desire to leave her room. The bloodstain on the floor was still there, waiting for her. Always waiting. Maggie and Hershel checked on her at least hourly, but they didn't try to force her to come out. They knew better than to waste their time trying.

She could see the worry and guilt etched on their faces, and the flood of tears they were constantly holding back. She didn't want to look at them right now. Her wrist itched incessantly, and she'd thrown away every sharp object in her sight just to fight the urge that had been building inside her. The urge that kept bubbling to the surface.

At first, she wasn't surprised to see T-Dog's SUV arrive in the driveway. Then she realized how fast he'd been driving and how abruptly the vehicle had come to a halt. Rocks and gravel kicked up beneath the tires, dust settling to the ground as the driver's side door opened and T-Dog emerged. His leg was long healed by now, though the bullet wound in his thigh had left him with a slight limp. Nonetheless, he charged up to the front door much quicker than Beth had ever seen him move, and with more intent. Even from her bedroom window, she could see the anger evident on his face and the keys dangling from his hand.

She heard the front door open downstairs and rushed to her bedroom door, opening it just enough to peek her head out into the hallway and watch as T-Dog reached the top of the stairs. He looked up and met her eyes and she watched his expression soften just the slightest – but he'd always been kind to her, and particularly respectful. When she realized that she could still see the anger flaring in his brown eyes, the blood drained from her face and she felt a jolt of cold dread in her stomach.

"Beth – where's yer daddy?" T-Dog asked, and it was obvious that he was trying to suppress his anger and retain his politeness while talking to her.

He glanced at the door of the study – closed, as usual. He looked back to Beth and she pursed her lips. Her mouth hadn't seemed to be working right for the last two days, and she wasn't sure why. But this was another one of those moments.

He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the door. "He in there?"

She nodded wordlessly, swallowing past a knot in her throat and watching T-Dog with wide eyes. Her heart was starting to race and she would've swore she could feel the anger emanating off of him.

Without another word, she watched him march up to the study door and knock hard on the wood surface. Beth's nerves were standing on end as the sound echoed through the silent second floor of the farmhouse. Then the door opened, just as T-Dog was lifting his fist to knock again.

It was Maggie, and Beth could see T-Dog pausing, having expected to find Hershel. He nodded his head and glanced over Maggie's shoulder.

She started, "Tee, I – "

"Where is he?!" T-Dog interrupted, and the anger was very clear in his voice this time. "Where's yer dad? Huh?! We gotta talk, this is done – "

Beth's breath caught in her throat as she watched T-Dog push Maggie aside and shove his way into the study, leaving the door wide open behind him. He stood just inside the doorway, Maggie standing helplessly at the side and watching with her mouth agape. Beth could just barely see her daddy inside, as he stood from the chair behind his desk and approached T-Dog, hands raised defensively.

"Old man, I swear ta – you shoulda listened to us!" T-Dog cried, and his voice began to crack as the anger was quickly joined by deep sadness and frustration. "She told you about that note – yer own daughter, man! An' you didn't do shit! You let this happen – YOU let this happen!"

Beth's eyes were wide as she watched, lips pursed, T-Dog's voice reverberating off her bones. She didn't need to see his face to know there were tears in his eyes. And she could see her daddy putting a hand to his forehead and leaning his head down, shaking it, probably pushing back tears of his own. He let the other man yell at him, though, his eyes drifting back up to meet T-Dog's.

T-Dog waved his hands wildly and angrily as he yelled, and then he pointed toward Maggie, who stood a few feet away, face flushed and mouth still agape. And he continued yelling, "She fucking told you about it! It was right there, written out, black an' fucking white, man! I took a goddamn bullet – you saw that shit, YOU operated on me! And that wasn't enough, huh?! Who else has ta pay the price fer yer fuck-ups, huh?! Yer own wife – yer only son, man! How the fuck could you let this happen?!"

He lowered his hand but he was breathing heavily, fists clenched at his side. Maggie remained silent, watching both men with the slightest hint of fear on her face. Beth felt that fear, too. She'd never heard T-Dog talk like this, especially to her daddy. And though she knew he was talking about Shawn and her momma, she didn't know what else he was talking about. A note? Maggie knew something? What the hell had really been going on behind that study door for the last six months? Beth knew even less than she'd thought she did. All those tense looks from T-Dog, his absence from any meals or get-togethers since his gunshot wound… she was starting to see that they had been symptoms of something much larger.

"Maggie, will you close the door, please?" Beth heard her daddy's voice ask, though T-Dog was standing in front of him and she couldn't see him.

Maggie nodded and moved toward the door but T-Dog reached out a hand and motioned for her to stop, still facing Hershel as he said, "Nah – you ain't shuttin' the door on this one. That young lady out there needs to hear this. She needs ta know that her daddy fucked up, and put all of us in danger!"

Beth could feel her hands starting to tremble and she swallowed back the bile building in her throat. Maggie glanced out the study door and they locked eyes, but Maggie quickly looked back to her daddy.

"Tee, I don't – how can I fix this for you?" Hershel stammered, and she could hear the weakness in his voice, the bitten-back tears. It made her heart ache for him.

T-Dog took half a step closer to Hershel and lowered his voice a bit, though Beth could still hear him clearly. "You can't fix shit, an' you know it – that's why we're here. That's why half yer family is layin' in a fuckin' morgue right now!"

Beth saw the way Maggie winced at his words. She couldn't help but do the same. It all still felt… surreal. Even though it had been two full days since they'd watched Annette and Shawn wheeled out in body bags.

She could hear the strain in her daddy's voice when he spoke, like a thread being pulled so tightly that it was about to snap. "I… know. I know, alright? I never… I didn't intend for this. I never thought he was capable – "

"You knew exactly what he was capable of," T-Dog snapped. "How many times did me an' Shawn talk to you? How many times did Glenn an' Maggie try ta talk some damn sense into you?! You think you know what's best, you think you can escape this?! But you had the gall t'underestimate a man who has so many fuckin' connections – "

"What d'you want from me? What can I do to make this better for you?!" Hershel cried.

Beth wished her momma were there more than ever in this moment. Or Shawn. They would've never allowed T-Dog to talk to her daddy like this.

There'd be no reason for T-Dog to talk to him like this… like her daddy had killed them himself.

T-Dog's voice finally got quieter, but he wasn't trying to keep out of earshot of Beth. He seemed to calm down a bit, but his hands were still clenched into fists at his sides. Maggie's face was pale as she watched from a few feet away, wringing her hands together nervously.

"You know exactly what you can do," T-Dog said. "We been talkin' about it fer months. 'S time fer you to follow through for once, Greene… I'm done. I'm completely done, man! I ain't doin' this no more, not ever fuckin' again. I ain't waitin' till he's comin' fer my family."

He tossed the keys that had been in his hands onto the desk angrily – the keys to the dark SUV. They landed with a loud 'thump' on the surface of the desk, causing Maggie to involuntarily wince.

Beth swallowed hard and heard a deep sigh come from Hershel. Then he replied, "Okay. I'll call in some favors – go home an' get your family together and everything you wanna take. I'll call you when it's set up."

There was a tense moment of silence, then T-Dog said, in a much quieter voice that Beth had to strain to hear, "An' then get your family outta here. You hear me? There ain't no comin' back from this shit. You think you know this game, but that man ain't even in the same league as you. These girls don't deserve that – Shawn didn't deserve that... Their blood's on your hands."

Hershel stepped to the side and Beth saw him over T-Dog's shoulder for the first time. He was looking directly at her, a solemn expression on his face and tears pooled in his blue eyes. She could see his bottom lip trembling, but then he stiffened his jaw and looked back to T-Dog, nodding.

"I know that," he said, clearing his throat. "I've been… a stubborn old man. I-I know… I know the price…"

T-Dog shook his head and took a step back. "Nah – no, you don't. You really, really don't."

Then he turned and marched out of the study without another word, heading toward the stairs. Hershel and Maggie remained where they were standing, almost frozen in place, faces long and pale with dread and remorse.

T-Dog paused at the top of the stairs, turning to look at Beth. She was still shaken up, shocked at the things that had come from T-Dog's mouth. She didn't know what it all meant, but it terrified her. When he spoke to her, though, his voice was much softer and quieter, and she could see the swirl of sadness and anger in his eyes.

"You get yerself outta here, Beth," he said. "This ain't no place fer a girl like you – don't let yer daddy keep you here. This place'll never be safe again. You ain't never gonna be safe, not long as yer name's Greene an' you live in Georgia. Don't you end up lettin' Shawn an' your momma die in vain – I mean that."

Maggie stepped into the doorway of the study and spoke up defiantly, "Tee, you don't need to – "

But T-Dog turned his head and looked at Maggie, cutting her off and speaking louder, firmer. "That goes fer you too, Maggie."

This realization seemed to take Maggie by surprise and her argument quickly fell away. Before either of the Greene girls could absorb his words or form a response, he was jogging down the stairs and out the front door, slamming it loudly behind him. The house seemed to shake for a second afterwards, and with one last glance at her older sister standing speechless in the doorway of the study, Beth turned around and rushed to her bedroom window.

She looked down to see a familiar car had appeared in the driveway, and when she saw T-Dog approaching it with his hand out, signaling for the driver not to come any closer to the house, she realized it was T-Dog's aunt. He got into the car and seconds later, it was turning around and driving back down the driveway, toward the road and away from the Greene Farm. The dark SUV remained where T-Dog had parked it.

And that was the last time Beth ever saw T-Dog or his family.

to be continued…

A/N: I couldn't help but throw in a little callback to season 5 with that Lerner dream ;) the dialogue fit so well lol.
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