Disclaimer: A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.
THANK YOU Nicole for editing and urging me to post this! I was having a moment of being...too self-critical and she was as encouraging as ever! Thank you love!
A/N: So I've discovered one thing about tumblr…with so many posts made in the Bethyl tag, I don't know how many of you who follow me actually SEE what I post (fanfiction wise anyway). So I'm going to link my Twitter account on my profile page. If you want to add me, feel free to do so! If I get a decent number of followers, I'll post chapter updates and such on tumblr, but I'll post more in twitter so you guys can interact with me more! I only use twitter to follow Norman Reedus, Emily Kinney, and some people from The 100 show anyway so I'll be getting better use out of it by posting updates!
…
Morgan watched the scene before him with rapt concentration. While he hadn't believed anyone would outright attack them, the man's initial reaction to Beth had caused him concern. It was obvious that this crossbow-wielding stranger knew her from before, having said he was there when she was buried, but he wasn't sure what to make of the intensity in which the man was responding to her presence.
Beth hadn't had any qualms with approaching him either. After travelling with her for three years, he'd seen her respond to strangers on numerous occasions, but this was something he'd never experienced. With her having been stripped of everything that had made her…her; no past experiences to base her decisions on, no memories of how she'd been raised, no idea who she was as a person, he had seen her struggle to come to terms with who she wanted to be.
While she never thought twice about helping those in need, she asked him to do the talking if they crossed anyone in their travels. She didn't trust easily and always had her weapon ready in case the deal went wrong. He couldn't imagine what it would feel like to wake in the middle of the apocalypse and come to believe this world was the norm. She couldn't remember what electricity or television was like, didn't know how it felt to take a hot bath with running water in a cozy home, she had no memory of what the world was like before the dead rose and began feasting on the living.
How could she trust when the world she knew was full of death and darkness? Beth had only trusted him because he had nursed her back to health and taught her how to take care of herself. He had been there when she had begun making new memories. Morgan had been a constant.
She knew her name was Beth, she knew she had a scar on her wrist, her cheek, and two on her forehead, but no idea how she had gotten them. It was obvious she had been buried by someone she had been traveling with, but beyond that she'd had to reestablish herself. He knew she had to wonder what she had left that was worth fighting for. Besides the obvious, what was the point? Why did she fight so hard to survive? He had wished he had the answers for her, but the sad truth was that he didn't know Beth any more than she knew herself.
While he may not have known Beth before, he knew her now. For her to approach this man in such a way had Morgan utterly perplexed. He wasn't a psychologist or a doctor, nor did he have any medical training beyond the basic first aid he had taught himself, therefore he could only speculate the effects brain damage had on a person. It was a romantic concept, but maybe, deep down in her heart of hearts, she knew this man even if she had no memories of him? It was the only explanation that could explain the instant connection he had seen between Beth and the man standing in front of the gates.
"Who are you?" Her voice broke his thoughts and Morgan watched the man's face fall.
Immediately feeling the need to shield her, Morgan stepped forward and stood near Beth, speaking on her behalf.
"She doesn't remember anything," he began, "Everything from before she'd been shot is…gone."
The man's deep, blue eyes glared at him and Morgan couldn't decide if he was angry or hurt. He assumed probably both.
"Nothin'?" He spat.
"I know her name 'cause it was carved on the cross markin' her grave," Morgan explained.
The stranger didn't respond and stared down at his feet.
"She's remembers everything after she woke up, but…nothin' before," Morgan felt compelled to add.
Morgan could see the muscles in the man's jaw tighten, but he remained quiet.
"Did…did we know each other?" Beth hesitantly asked after several moments of silence.
"Yeah…" the reply was barely audible, "Yeah, we did."
Morgan had envisioned this moment so many times, finally finding someone who knew Beth. Someone who could fill in the gaping hole in her memory, but the vision had always been under much happier circumstances. He had pictured Beth breaking into a huge smile and they would have a celebration of sorts. However, the melancholy way in which she'd gotten answered dampened the mood and Beth only nodded mutely. There were no smiles and it was the polar opposite of a 'happy moment.'
"Dwight," the man yelled while stepping back and picking up his crossbow.
"Yeah," the scarred man who had greeted them reappeared.
"Go tell Rick we got some visitors," he said before turning to face them once more.
The scarred man, Dwight, gave a firm nod and trotted inside the walls of Alexandria.
"You never told me your name," Beth reiterated.
"Daryl," he said while sliding his crossbow over his shoulder, "Daryl Dixon."
Morgan noticed the furrowing of her brows, a habit she performed when she was committing something to memory.
"This is Morgan," she gestured, "He's the one who found me. I owe him my life," she smiled at him fondly and Morgan couldn't help but smile back.
When he turned his attention back in front of them, he was met with that same penetrating gaze.
"Morgan Jones," he extended his hand toward Daryl.
After a moment Daryl took his hand and gave it a firm shake. Morgan could tell the man still had suspicions, but he didn't blame him. There were all sorts of people in the world now. It was always better to be more cautious of strangers than to welcome them with open arms and naivety.
"And I guess you know who I am," Beth shifted from one foot to another.
"Yes…I do," Daryl's gaze softened when he turned his attention to her.
Daryl continued to stare at Beth, who kept shifting in obvious discomfort at being focused on so intently, until Dwight returned to the gates.
"Hey man," he said to Daryl, "Rick should be in the meeting room. He said to bring 'em up whenever you're ready."
Daryl nodded and spoke to the two of them once more, "You don't need yer' weapons here."
Morgan sheathed his machete, but noticed that Beth hesitated. After a brief moment, she began unstrapping the band around her arm and tucked her weapon away. Once her weapon was deposited, Daryl motioned for them to follow him inside.
They entered the gates and it was like entering an entirely different world. There were remnants of streets that had turned into dirt paths leading every which direction, flowers growing in window seals, toys in semi-groomed front yards, and horses could be heard 'neighing' in the distance. There were orchards and rows of crops growing from the ground, while the livestock were kept safely in pens. The blades of a large windmill could be seen rotating over the roofs and the smell of baking bread filled the air as they passed by the fully intact houses lining the road. It was more primitive than before things had gone to hell, but it was the closest thing to civilization there had been in years.
"This is what it used to be like," Morgan said to Beth who was absorbing everything in sight.
"This is…" she began.
"Paradise," Morgan finished her sentence with a wry smile.
"I've never seen anything like this before," she caught herself, "Well…I don't remember anything like this anyway."
Morgan saw the discreet look Daryl threw over his shoulder at her remark, but neither man made a comment.
"So how does it work here? How do you keep this place going?" Morgan asked instead.
For a moment it seem like Daryl wasn't going to answer, but then he stopped and rounded on them.
"We've all got jobs to do," he said directly to Beth who returned his stare steadily. There was a moment of silence and then Daryl's gaze moved to Morgan, "Everyone gets assigned a job dependin' on what skills you got. We got agriculture, security, supply runners, herders, and everythin' else in between."
"How d'you know who to trust?" Beth's tone neutral, but Morgan caught the look in her eyes.
It wasn't so much a challenge as it was that she felt skeptical. They had been through a lot on the road. They had seen a lot and done much more than any young girl should ever have to endure. It hadn't taken Beth long to lose the naivety that she'd had after she'd first awoken, quickly discovering that while the dead were to be fought; it was the living they should fear the most.
"Rick will explain tha' process t'you ," he looked from Beth to Morgan, "If what you say s'true."
Morgan caught the subtle stab that Daryl was making it clear he was on the fence in regards to Morgan actually knew Rick or not. Morgan had never seen the man with Rick the few times they had encountered each other after the initial epidemic began so he didn't blame Daryl for not taking him at his word.
The continued walking through the community and Morgan smiled as he watched Beth's eyes dart from one place to another. This had to be a good thing. If Rick was leader, then it had to be a sanctuary, because if it wasn't…Morgan felt his smile falter. If this wasn't good then he wasn't sure there was any hope left for the world.
Entering the building behind Daryl, Morgan glanced over his shoulder to make sure Beth was still tagging along. Her eyes were hard and he knew exactly what she was doing, it was something he had taught her; finding as many ways to escape the room as possible in case things went bad.
"Alright. I expect the reports brought t'me tomorrow," Rick's voice sounded within the room.
A woman quickly exited, flashing a smile, and then Morgan turned his attention to the man he'd been trailing the past three years.
"Morgan?" Rick's voice sounded shrill with disbelief.
"Rick," Morgan stepped forward and extended his hand toward the clean shaven man, "It's been a long time."
He couldn't describe the elation he felt seeing the friend he'd believed to be dead, standing before him with that same serious expression. It was surreal and familiar all at once. There were feelings and emotions flowing through him that he hadn't felt since Duane's death. He even felt himself blinking a few times to keep the welling emotions from spilling down his cheeks.
"I'll be damned," Rick's voice shook and he ignored Morgan's hand, reaching around to embrace him, "You're either tha' toughest or the luckiest son of 'ah bitch I know."
As soon as Rick was able to see over his shoulder, Morgan felt every muscle in his body tense, and he knew that they had indeed found the group that had buried Beth.
…
Daryl watched the brief reunion from the corner of the room. This…Morgan had been telling the truth, from the warm welcome Rick had given him. Once he had the confirmation he needed, his eyes zeroed in on Beth. She was standing closer to the door, obviously uncomfortable being confined in the room, but she seemed to relax a bit when Rick acknowledged Morgan.
It was only a few moments later when Rick noticed her and the older man's eyes cut to Daryl's with the same expression he had probably held on his face at the gates; sheer disbelief.
"Beth?" Rick's voice was barely above a whisper.
Morgan then stepped aside to let their leader approach the girl who looked identical to their fallen family member.
"This is…what…" Rick looked between Beth, Morgan, and Daryl, "How?"
"I found her," Morgan spoke up, "nursed her back t'health."
Rick seemed to have the same problem as Daryl had earlier in regards to their equilibrium as he leaned back on the desk to brace himself.
"How is this possible? She'd been shot…at point blank range. She was dead…wasn't she?" Rick was pleading with him and Daryl had to look away.
He was still in a place of denial. Daryl had been so certain he would never see Beth again. That she was dead and gone forever. To see her standing in the same room as them, breathing the same air, and just…existing made this all seem like some sort of new twist to his ghoulish dreams.
Rick pushed off of his desk and stepped forward to envelope her in a hug. His words rushing from his lips and Daryl could barely make out, "Maggie is never going to believe this."
Within seconds Morgan was squeezing his shoulder in an attempt to get his attention. Rick released his grasp and sent a questioning glance between Morgan and Beth.
"…Maggie?" Beth spoke for the first time since entering the room; clearly uncomfortable from the hug by the way she kept her arms locked by her side.
"Your sister…Maggie," Rick spoke slowly.
The room was eerily tense.
"She don't 'member us," Daryl tried to keep his voice steady as he stood from where he'd been leaning; taking in Beth's guarded expression.
"What do you mean she doesn't remember us?" Rick quirked an eyebrow.
Morgan and Beth exchanged a look. When the older man nodded, Beth turned her attention back to Rick.
Daryl felt an ache in his chest. Several years ago it had been him that she looked to with unwavering trust…and he had let her down. He had opened the front door to the mortuary without a second thought, and brought all of this upon them. What he wouldn't give to be able to go back and just not open that door. If he hadn't used that dog as a way to escape the tense atmosphere growing between them at the table, then she would've never been taken. If he hadn't run from her, she would never have been at that hospital where she'd been shot. If he'd been more of a man and answered her properly, she would still remember him.
"I don't remember much from when I first woke up. The only memories I do have involve him," she spoke evenly while gesturing to Morgan.
The ex-sheriff deputy turned leader's expression held that far off look that Daryl recognized as an attempt to mask the true turmoil raging inside. Stepping forward from where he'd been leaning, he moved to stand next Rick. It was obvious that he felt just as dazed as Daryl had and he could only imagine how overwhelmed Beth must have felt from all of this new information.
He glanced at her, standing close to the door, looking like she was ready to flee at a moment's notice. Her shoulders were rigid, her lips were barely visible from the way she was biting them shut, and her eyes stayed focused on either himself or Rick. Morgan had remained rooted in place, splitting the distance between Rick and her, however he too seemed to notice that Beth's edge returned the moment Rick had hugged her.
"How'd…" Rick seemed to have gathered his thoughts as he cleared his throat, "How'd you two find us?"
"I found a map, 'fore I found Beth, inside a church," Morgan pulled his backpack around and dug through the items inside, "It had a route marked to Washington. We were headed there when we ran into Alex and Anna."
"They were headed t'Hilltop," Daryl announced to Rick.
Rick nodded and turned back to Morgan, "They alright?"
"Yeah, thanks in no small part to Beth," Morgan sighed amusedly, "Crazy girl."
Daryl picked up on the not-so-subtle attempt to reengage Beth in the conversation, but it was apparent with how tightly her lips were pressed together that she wanted no part.
"They ran into a smaller herd. Your boy, Alex, got his ax lodged in the ground," Morgan went on to explain, "They were in the bed of 'ah pick-up truck, weaponless, when we found 'em."
"Thank you," Rick gave a stern look and nodded, "Thank you for goin' out of your way t'help them."
"Beth didn't give me a choice," Morgan chuckled, "She jumped in and had a few of 'em sliced down before I even had tha' chance to come up with 'ah game plan."
"Guess some things are still tha' same," Daryl gave a wistful smirk.
"I was jus' doin' what needed to be done s'all," Beth replied smoothly.
The phrase resonated with Daryl. It was a motto that he'd come to live by even before the apocalypse. There were some things in life that just needed to be done because either no one else had the courage to follow through or it was only something that his skill set allowed.
"So…" Morgan's voice cut the tension in the room, "How does this place work?"
Rick stood and Daryl recognized the change in his posture. This Rick was the leader of Alexandria, in charge of a little over a hundred lives, and ready to do whatever needed to be done to keep his people safe.
"Usually we interview our newcomers, which includes three specific questions as well as inquiries pertaining to their background, to get a feel for 'em. We have a few that are good judges of character and they help conduct the interviews. All of those new to our community are given a trial run and their weapons are confiscated for a few weeks, until we know we can trust them. I make the final decision on whether someone is suited for our…lifestyle or not. Those who don't cut it are banished from the community and sent back out on their own. Those who are allowed to stay are afforded jobs in accordance to their skills," Rick summarized the gist of how Alexandria functioned, "We have laws and a jail for those who break them, there's 'ah church run by Father Gabriel with weekly services, a bakery, crops and livestock, water system, people in charge of keeping tha' herds away from the walls, and we even have trade routes set up between the other safe zones. It was rough gettin' it started, but we've got 'ah pretty smooth operation goin' now."
"This is the best news I've heard in years," Morgan's smile reached all the way to his eyes.
"So you're interested in becoming a part of our community then?" Rick asked with a soft chuckle.
Daryl watched Morgan's face fall and doesn't understand the sudden melancholy until he hears Morgan's question.
"What d'you wanna' do Beth?" The older man turned his gaze from Rick to the girl behind him.
Beth's eyes went from Rick, to him, and finally land on Morgan. Daryl could feel her gauging her companion and then her eyes suddenly snap back to Rick.
"So you're sayin' we'll be without our weapons for a few weeks?" She inquired incredulously.
"We have protocols," Rick responded, "and I'm obligated to abide by them. However, the situation with you guys is different than the rest. I invited Morgan to join our group long before we reached Alexandria and you…" Rick's gaze landed on Beth.
"I vouch for 'er," Daryl interrupted.
Beth's eyes locked with his and he could see the uncertainty filtering across her face.
"Well there ya' have it," Rick smirked and continued, "You've both always been a part of our group. Due t'extenuating circumstances, it took you two a lil' longer t'get here than the rest of us, so I think keepin' your weapons for the next twenty-four hours will be plenty enough. You're not strangers…you're family."
Daryl felt Beth's scrutiny as she analyzed them. It was a very uncomfortable feeling, having her look at him and not knowing him. Had he been the same person he was before the prison, he was sure he would have already flipped out on her, but he had grown into his own and refused to give her any reason to distrust him.
"Beth?" Morgan spoke softly.
Daryl knew the moment she gave in and he couldn't help the sigh that escaped his lips.
"What're the three questions?" Beth asked while she reached to the back of her pack and unclasping her machete.
Daryl stepped forward, taking the weapon, and also the initiative to begin the interview, "How many walkers you killed?"
"Dunno' about before," she answered derisively, "and I honestly can't say I've kept count since I came to. We killed a couple dozen just a few hours ago."
"How many people you killed?" Daryl asked even though he didn't want to know the answer.
"Three," she replied unblinking.
"Why?" Daryl hissed the final question.
"One was to defend him," Beth nodded to Morgan, "and two were defending myself."
Rick began asking Morgan the same questions behind them, but Daryl was too focused on Beth to comprehend what the answers were. He had just learned that the Beth he knew, who had been innocent of the living's blood on her hands, was no more. The thought made him ill. If she had been with him, her hands would still be clean, but he had buried her and left her in a shallow grave with nothing but her name carved into two twigs he'd tied together.
"Why did you vouch for me?" She probed while staring up at him.
It was such a surreal feeling, staring at her electric blue eyes and remembering everything they had been through, but knowing the eyes staring back at him had no recollection of anything…of him.
"Regardless of what you remember and what you don't, the Beth Greene who'd been with us was good. She was better than tha' rest of us," Daryl admitted softly.
"Greene?" She tested the name on her tongue, "So my last name is Greene."
She hadn't even known her last name. She truly didn't remember anything. She didn't remember how much her father had loved her, cared for her, doted on her. She didn't remember caring for an infant child, raising her as if she were her own, and singing to her as she paced the concrete floors of the upper level in their prison-home. She didn't remember her bossy sister or her overprotective brother. She didn't remember eating mud snakes and drinking moonshine. She didn't remember the hug that ended their argument and the fire that warmed their backs as they wiped their slates clean. She didn't remember their unfinished conversation. She didn't remember anyone…she didn't remember him. Daryl felt as if he'd been physically punched. His anger burned through his veins and he knew a trip outside of the walls would be necessary after their meeting was over in order to alleviate some of his bitterness.
Beth just continued to stare at him with a crinkle in her brows.
"I've killed four men," Morgan's voice flitted through the air.
Beth moved, snapping Daryl back to the present when she bent down and pulled at the heel of her boot, producing a three inch, single sided razor blade.
"The Beth you knew then, and who I am now…I don't know if they're even remotely the same," she informed while pulling the knife from the sheath on her hip.
Daryl wasn't sure how to respond to her statement, so he didn't. Instead he allowed his eyes to trace the scars on her face and the new ones that were scattered on her arms and hands. Everywhere that had been soft had a much sharper edge, but her eyes still held the same kindness he had grown to cherish.
"Alright," Rick's voice broke Daryl's thoughts, "We'll get you guys to Sherry tomorrow and we'll get you your weapons back and set you up with a job. For now, you'll bunk in the mess hall until we can get you a place sorted out."
Daryl took the weapons he was holding and deposited them in a metal bin that lined the walls behind Sherry's desk, leaving Rick to escort Morgan and Beth to their temporary quarters.
Beth and turned and walked out of the room without giving him a second glance. Everything about her was so familiar, but she claimed to be a different person than the girl he remembered. Daryl wasn't sure whether he was heartbroken by the fact that his Beth was really gone forever, or blessed to get a second chance with a girl who had come to mean so much to him. It was very confusing.
"Daryl?" A woman's voice cut through the room, "You okay?"
Daryl turned to see Sherry, returning to her office from gathering the reports Rick had asked for earlier.
"Yeah. Fine," he lied.
"Those the weapons of our guests?" She inquired while looking at the forearm machete he was handling with great care.
"They're not guests. They're family," Daryl corrected her; shoving the bin back into its slot.
"Oh," Sherry nodded, "I'll be sure to remember that."
"Thanks," Daryl said curtly, turning to leave the room.
"Hey!" Sherry called out, causing Daryl to pop his head back in the room, "Don't forget you're supposed to have dinner with Dwight and me tonight. You skipped out last week. No excuses."
Daryl sighed, knowing that getting on Dwight's wife's bad side wasn't a wise decision, "I'll be there."
Daryl had no intention of going. He would come up with some lame excuse and spend the rest of the day outside of the walls, killing as much wildlife as he could. He had so many things he wanted to ask Beth, but no idea where to begin. He wasn't good with 'making friends' and he wasn't sure Beth cared to try to get to know him again. That thought disturbed him more than anything else.
"We're inviting Beth and Morgan," Sherry called from the other room.
Daryl paused, sighing in resignation because he knew he would in fact be cutting his hunting expedition short, "I said I'd be there."
Daryl marched out of the office and shielded his eyes from the bright sunlight. The streets were now bustling with people going about their daily routines and Daryl took a calming breath. If they had managed to rebuild society, give these people a second chance at life, he could figure out a way to start over with Beth. Even if she wasn't the same, even if she had new scars and was rougher around the edges, she was still Beth. She was worth it and he would do whatever it took to make things right between them, or as right as was possible in their circumstances.
This was his second chance at life with Beth.
...
A/N: I had A LOT of trouble with this chapter. It's very hard to write Beth because at this point...I want her very indifferent to everyone except Morgan. She has no relationship with anyone else, but everyone else feels like their seeing a ghost. So the reunion with Rick had me stuck for DAYS! Literally...days! I didn't want his reaction as strong as Daryl's, but I wanted there to be this disbelief that Beth was standing in his office. Even though we didn't see a lot of it on screen, but I'd like to think Rick and Beth had a bond through her caring for Judith. So I hope this is up to your standards...some reassurance would be nice. I really stressed over this chapter. You can thank Nicole for me posting tonight, because I honestly could have tinkered with it another week...