The bridge was a long walk and night was beginning to fall, dropping temperatures, making the air hard to breathe in. Beth didn't care. The sight of snow dancing on the breeze against the black canopy of sky was enough to keep her ep smiling. The sky was filled with stars, so many to be seen since the city lights went out. A few falling stars shot by and Beth resisted the urge to make a wish. She never had got that puppy she'd wished on a star for as a child. Asking for her to find an entire group of people alive and well in Dale was a hefty wish. Too much to ask for on one star. They'd passed a lot of empty shops and looted gas stations. A Museum had been situated just before the bridge but Beth felt sad seeing it, windows shattered, painting strewn across the garden, walkers lingering about the entrance doors. Walkers were slower, the few they'd killed just after the school hardly making the effort to lunge forward as Beth passed them. As long as they didn't freeze or starve before they got to Dale, she was sure they had a chance. Morgan seemed better now he was out on the road and she was glad. He preferred moving, his mind always fixated on finding Rick. It had been a long journey for him and Beth hoped they'd both get what they were searching for. Sticking her tongue out, she tried to catch a snowflake, aware of how dry her mouth was. She thirsted for a gallon of water, not just the few sips she allowed herself. Hot cocoa in this weather would have been all too heavenly a dream but Beth let herself think about how perfect a cup would be, with little marshmallows bobbing about on top, dusted with chocolate powder. When her stomach groaned she stopped the image from becoming any more desirable, staring ahead at the bridge. As they began walking across, she was suddenly aware of how misty it was. The water below was barely viable through the fog. Up ahead, she couldn't see the other side.

Frowning, she turned to Morgan, watching his expression cloud over. Something was wrong and she knew it wasn't just the mist. Without warning, Morgan picked up the pace, darting ahead, Beth following, enjoying the brief warmth caused by running. She followed him till he stopped and held out an arm, keeping her back. His eyes darted to hers, wide and alarmed, so unnerving she grasped his hand in momentary fear.

"The bridge... It's gone..."

Confused, she looked before her, gasping. The bridge ended, mangled metal rods and cracked pavement leading to a sheer drop into the ocean. Someone had destroyed the bridge. The government maybe? They had bombed Atlanta. Why would they stop there? A broken bridge would cut off walkers, maybe they did it early on when the outbreak was thought to be containable. Hadn't her dad heard about that on the radio. Before all the airwaves went dead. After Shawn was bit. Her dad told Maggie in private but Beth had pressed her ear to the door, eager to understand what was happening outside of the farm. Boston, Atlanta and some other state she could remember had been named designated evacuation zones, but her dad said the governemnt was warning that they start cutting off transport. Bridges to New York were destroyed. Boats were called back, train stopped. Maybe if she'd paid more attention to the media instead of petting her horse or worrying Jimmy might be cheating on her, then Beth might have known more of how changed the world was.

Morgan kicked a piece of broken concrete, watching it fall into the mist, the wind muffling the distant splash as it dropped to the water. He turned, sighing with resignation. Beth shrugged, her bag slipping down, so empty now. Her eyes glanced at the mist ahead, suddenly became aware of the sound of an engine racing towards them. From far ahead, she saw something bright, lights shining out from the mist. Morgan cursed, ordering her to hide, knowing it was pointless. They had nowhere to go. The sound of doors shutting and guns loading made him tense up and Beth held his arm tighter, knife out, ready. The voice that emerged from the shadowy figure in the mist was unfamiliar and cold, making Beth shudder.

"Finally, got some new meat for the winter."

...

Beth knew their type. The three figures who aimed their guns at her and Morgan, ordering them to stand down. She knew them well. They weren't Grady cops but their faces gave their true nature away. Cruel, sneering faces that looked on them as though they were nothing. The same look of superiority painted on most of the faces of Grady's officers. The man who had spoken was the most sinister of the three. His nose was broken, his smile crooked, short hair accompanied by a scraggly beard. Something in his eyes was hungry and cruel, glaring at them as he snorted, spitting on the floor. He seemed to enjoy watching Beth surrender her knife, eyes lingering on her. The other man was younger, wearing a cape that Beth realised was made from skin. Human skin. Walker skin. Grey and dry, wrapped around his shoulders. His face was blank, a tattoo of a skull on his left cheek. He suggested they shoot them and get somewhere warm but the woman refused. Of the three, she seemed the most controlled, picking up the weapons Beth and Morgan dropped, searching them swiftly before she restrained Morgan.

It was disturbing how casually she spoke her warning into Morgan's ear as he pulled away from her, "You come with us. Don't fight or I'll gut the girl, then you."

"We don't want no trouble, were on our way to..."

She didn't let Morgan finish speaking, twisting his arm hard, making him drop to his knees in anguish. Beth ran over to him, evading the grasp of the bearded man, receiving a harsh kick to her back as she passed him, the impact of his boot rupturing through her weak bones. As she slipped and fell onto her knees, she could hear him chuckling, his voice high and humoured as she glared at him, "check you little minx, don't make me kick that pretty face in."

Morgan fought as Beth was grabbed by the tattooed man, his arms thick and dense, constricting her, his voice low and heavy as he complained, "this is too much hassle, I say we dump them in the river. They ain't the submissive type."

The woman silenced him with a sharp look, kicking Morgan in the ribs as he struggled, "Do that and I'll tell the boss you let people go. How'd you like that? He's been pissed since we lost that group in Johnson, how'd you think he'll reward us for dumping two live ones in the river?"

Her captor snorted, warning her to keep still. Beth's eyes widened as she realised the explosion had been set by her group. Somehow, these people were aware of them and if they thought they were lost, it was possible they had escaped. She bit her lip, trying to breathe, knowing now that the walker she'd seen with the gun hadn't been a figment of her imagination. The woman began to tie Morgan's hands, swearing as he almost spun round to strike her, her gun aimed at his head. Beth screamed, unable to control her panic. The bearded man laughed, slapping his knee, standing before Morgan. With a swift punch, he struck Morgan down, causing his eye to swell, "Old man will you shut the fuck up, my god, it's annoying!"

The man behind Beth began to complain again, half suffocating her with his impenetrable grip, "He's gonna make moving them hard. The old ones are always stubborn."

The bearded man groaned, spitting again, rolling his eyes, "Well, fuck, let's just cripple the bastard!"

Beth watched in horror, pulling against the man who held her, trying to break free and help Morgan as she realised what he meant. Her resistance was pointless. They pulled him down, the woman forcing him to raise his leg and rest it on the bumper while the other guy held him up. The man restraining Beth gave a groan, "I hate the sound, you know that."

The other man sneered, "grow a pair, you dick. Just do it."

Pulling Beth with him, the man behind her brought his food down hard on Morgan's shin, his pained cry making her feel weak, the sound of bone splintering making her nauseas. He collapsed, out cold, and Beth felt more alone than ever. Swiftly, she decided to work on a way of making them underestimate her. What else did she have? If she could trick the cops at Grady into thinkings she was weak, she could fool these half wits. Only difference here was that it wasn't just her life on the line. Morgans was at risk as well.

"Please, please I... He took me... My d-daddy will be lookin' for me."

She forced herself to sound pitiful, to stutter and whimper, cowering like a kid. The woman seemed to pity her, expression softening, though Beth's act seem to excite the other man who was now rubbing his beard thoughtfully, eyes alight with something she recognised. Something she'd seen in Gorman's eyes. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat, forcing tears. The woman reached out to take her, voice calmer, "let's get her back, it's up to the boss what..."

She didn't have a chance to finish. The bearded man snorted, grabbing Beth by the chin, studying her with hungry eyes, "the fuck you talkin' bout Lily, this girls the perkiest little blonde I seen since world went to shit. She ain't goin' nowhere till I've had my fill."

The woman grimaced, disgusted, yet seeming to back away. He had power over her, somehow, and Beth knew she wouldn't be getting any help playing the sympathy card. Her best bet was to get him alone.

"I-I've never done anything like that... I'm a good girl," she exclaimed, sickened by her own choice of words. As she expected, he beamed, a full mouth of gold teeth shining at her. Whatever he'd been before the dead starting walking, Beth could be sure he had been the same monster even then. Rubbing his hands together, he let out a cackle of glee, "got me a Virgin Mary. You two load up the old man, I need me some private time with little miss here."

Thrown into his grasp, Beth held her breath as he held her close, pressing her against him, hands wandering. She didn't even let herself think of him as a man, let alone human. To her, he was an animal, wild and rabid, that needed to be put down... Brutally. As the others dragged Morgan around to the boots, she noticed his eyes open, giving her a quick glance. She winked at him, letting out a pained cry as the man took a firm hold of her arms, fingers digging into her flesh, breath rancid as he forced her to look at him, lifting her a little so they were face to face. He was so absorbed by desire, he didn't notice her hand grip his knife, sliding it out of his belt.

"I'm gonna you tear you to pieces, little girl. Just like I did to all the others," He murmured, leaning in to kiss her, never learning how wrong he'd been to underestimate her as Beth drive the knife into his stomach, dropping from his grasp, pushing him to the floor, hand clamped over his mouth. His cried of agony were muffled, her knees keeping his arms down. His eyes were wide as she stared down at him, pulling the knife out, holding it to his throat.

"I ain't no little girl," she murmured, running the knife along his neck, leaving him to choke on his own blood as she hurried to the car where the the other two were unaware of her actions, having abandoned Morgan on the floor, taking a break to smoke cigarettes. The woman was muttering something about 'killing the girl when he's done' and Beth felt no doubt in what she had to do next. Glancing at Morgan, she saw his eyes wide open, watching her. He'd seen what she'd done and was both relieved and devastated. Blood stained her cheeks and jacket, the knife dripping blood onto the white snow, corrupting it's purity. Morgan couldn't understand how she seemed so calm but he was grateful for her composure. It willed him to pull his hands free of the rope that had been tightly wrapped around them. Beth didn't linger on what he'd seen, nodding at him. He'd didn't need her to explain. Using his uninjured leg, Morgan kicked the man down, grabbing him, striking his head against the road, killing him by the third blow. Before the woman could say a word, Beth came round the side of the car, forcing the knife into the woman's chest, piercing her heart, a soft wheeze of breath escaping she as she fell to the ground, eyes staring into the sky. Empty. Beth took a shuddering breath, wiping the blood from her hands onto her jeans, helping Morgan up. He cried out as he tried to walk on his leg. It was broken. Luckily, they didn't have to worry about him walking on it. Looking in the boot, Beth saw a full can of gas, along with a bag of pocketed food and fresh vegetables. Morgan collected their guns, smiling as he realised how lucky an escape they had. Whoever they were, they were well stocked. Aiding Morgan to the front seat, Beth assured him inside, warning him to stay as she walked back over to the bearded man, his eyes watching her with fury as she stared at him. He held his neck, coughing blood. She had given him what he deserved. A slow death. Somehow, it didn't seem harsh enough.

"This is for every girl you ever hurt," she spat, walking over to the drivers door, getting in, pressing down on the horn. Morgan watched her with confusion but he noticed her eyes focused ahead. A few walkers emerged from the mist. Slow yet steady, snow lingering on their crooked forms. Beth had rung the dinner bell and she didn't feel a trace of guilt. Starting up the engine, she began to drive away. Morgan was still watching her, a hand resting on his leg, more concerned for her than for himself. All to aware of his attention, she sighed, wiping blood from her cheek with a small frown.

"Sometimes it's not the dead who are the real monsters."

...

Dawn came too early. Daryl wasn't ready to get up. Not yet. Waking up in a bed was still something he couldn't quiet get over. Besides, he hadn't got much sleep. Night watch had been long and cold. He was glad to do it, as agreed by Rick. They had to do something for all the help Douglas and his people were giving them. He just wasn't used to hours of silence as he felt the cold chill his bones. It was a merciless task. Lonely too. He'd avoided standing near the fires with the other guards. Nothing personal, he just wasn't keen on having to 'make friends' as his brother would say. It was something that ran in the family. A trait from his dad no doubt. Dixon's weren't quick to trust and would rather be alone than try to build bridges. Luckily Glenn had joined him before long, smiling again. Daryl was glad to see him looking like the smart ass kid he first met. It was common knowledge that Maggie was back to her old self, taking care of herself and the child she carried, and Glenn was no longer pale with worry or weak from starvation. He'd gone on about how nervous he was about being a dad and how thankful he was for the house Douglas had given them. Daryl didn't do much but nod and watch the snow fall.

Deep down he wondered what it felt like, having to look out for a kid, worry about how you raise it, what you let it do. Merle used to take claim for the man Daryl was, swearing he raised him. Maybe he had, but he shouldn't have been too proud with the result. Daryl always expected he'd be the worse kind of father, and not just because he thought of a kid as an 'it.' He'd grown up with a father who beat him for fun and let him think, as he always used to say, "weren't worth nothing." Red neck trash. All he'd ever call his sons. Red neck trash who would end up dead before long. He used to feel proud he'd escaped from his past, but when he looked ahead, thought of what other people might have, and he knew he was still his fathers son. No woman would want him. At least not for long. He wasn't easy to put up with. A kid would be... As hard as he tried, he couldn't shake the image of Beth from his mind, Judith cradled in her arms. Maybe he did know what it meant to look out for a kid. He did take care of Beth when they escaped the prison, although she could handle herself pretty well on her own. Some people might say she was young enough to be his kid but Daryl never saw her that way. Didn't see her like his baby sister or a child, Beth was too tough, she was strong willed and didn't want someone being her chaperone. When they spoke between glasses of moonshine on that porch, before they burnt it to the ground, he knew he wasn't ever gonna see her as a burden. Night he lay in that coffin, listening to her sing, he'd stared into space and wondered if that warm ache in his chest was something he'd never thought he could feel. Why else did he think of her and Judith at the prison and feel a wave of grief at the thought of never coming home to find them waiting for him.

He felt sick. Embarrassed by his own wishes, disgusted by his own desires, and depressed because it was useless taking up all this time thinking of a girl who wasn't there anymore.

He cursed, sitting up, the bed no longer feeling so comfortable. Glancing around the place, he knew he'd have to get used to how empty it was. Been a long time since Daryl Dixon had a place of his own. Even when he had his own place for that month, Merle was always there, daily, taking his beers or sleeping on his floor. He'd complain but deep down he knew he didn't want to be alone. As tough as he was, he didn't enjoy his own company much. All that time spent surviving alone out there taught him that on your own, you can make yourself crazy. Without his brother snoring on the couch or swearing about there being no food, the house was just four walls and a roof. He never wanted to be by himself like this.

Yet here he was, in a house made for a family of two. Douglas had insisted he take a house to himself. Maybe because he was too scared to put Daryl in with any of his people. Rick offered him a room but Daryl didn't want to intrude on anyone. He let Michonne take his place in the Grimes house. She was already a stand in mother to Carl and Judith, what good was he in a warm family household. Tara stayed with Noah and the father. Tyrese and Sasha lived with Carol. Everyone had their unit. When Douglas showed him this place, Daryl noticed how far off it was from everyone else. A few minutes from the barrier wall, close to the outside. Douglas swore it was the only house with hot water all year round, but he knew it was just a cover. The man was good at talking crap. Another annoying prick to put on his list. Groaning, he got to his feet, suprises by how warm the room was. Having electricity was a luxury he'd forgotten long ago. Carefully, he pulled on a navy blue shirt he'd found in the RV, sliding his vest on top, wishing it was summer again. Least then he didn't have to worry about layering up. He was still sticking to his own clothes, despite the wardrobe full of new ones. Then he headed downstairs, cross bow waiting for him by the door, along with his boots.

He was heading out. Didn't agree with him to sit here, eating alone, thinking of all the mistakes he'd made that led him here. He still couldn't shake the hospital from his mind, nor could he erase the bodies of their recent dead lined up in front of him. Abraham hadn't been a friend, he didn't even know where he was from, but he had been a good enough guy. Died saving his girl, took a bullet through the head. The way they lay there, together, entwined, it hit Daryl hard and he knew why. God, it killed him but he knew why. Rosita, younger and smaller, lying still, encircled by Abrahams arms. Make her even smaller with long blonde hair and... He walked into the hall and hit the wall with his fist. The pain helped him focus on something else, something other than Beth, but his mind was always somewhere else lately.

They lost too many and he'd failed to stop them from dying. At least out there he had too much to worry about, surviving and hunting, didn't let him linger too long on what he didn't have. Two days of living like this and still he felt like a prisoner, which was why he was heading out. Again. Outside the wall into the areas of Alexandria they didn't enclose. The wild areas he felt most at home in. Yesterday he'd taken down a few rabbits, the winter making them scarce but easier to track. Today he was off to explore deeper into the park. It was a big park, big as a small neighbourhood, or so he thought. He'd come across a shack a little way in, door locked but free from walker damage. Daryl decided it would be his escape. A place out there where he could be himself and escape the eyes of every damn person there. One eyed dog was on the couch, still asleep. He wasn't keen on naming it. Not when it was so keen on running off. Daryl wondered if the damn mutt wasn't a cat in disguise, way he slept all day. He didn't take him out with him. Too worried he'd run away again and die in the snow. He had no reason to care about the creature but he fed it and pet it anyway. Sometimes he even snuck it some rabbit when he got in from night watch. A part of him knew Beth would have done the same.

Sighing, he shifted his cross bow onto his back, sliding his feet into his boots, opening the door. The winter breeze chilled him, waking every inch of his body from the warm aura of sleep. Daryl withheld a stream of profanity as he noticed a few women passing, their eyes darting to him nervously, a man with them giving him a disapproving glance. He promised Rick he'd be civil but hell it weren't easy. It was easier on the raid for a guy like him. The dead were easy to deal with. At least with walkers they didn't stare at you cus' they hated you. Here, he couldn't fight with everyone who judged him. Hell, he couldn't blame some of them. Before it all went to shit, he'd been used to being the unwanted presence in town. Only since he'd got to know the group and fought with them had he started knowing what it meant to be accepted. Even Judith wasn't scared of him. Few times he'd seen Rick, she'd be there, in his arms, face lighting up when she saw him. It was times like this when he really valued having Rick there. He was always checking on him, calling Daryl over, making sure all was good with everyone. Daryl knew a good man when he saw one and Rick Grimes was the best of them. As he crossed the porch and descended the few steps into the street, he glanced down the road. Most people were still asleep or at home making breakfast. Explained the smell of eggs and meat that travelled through the air. Few men passed him on his way over to the gate, the guard giving him a wary look but he opened up the door that led through to the iron railings. Neither of them spoke but Daryl knew they weren't keen on letting him wander. Didn't matter much to him, but everyone here seemed overly afraid of what lay outside the wall. Walkers were few, the abandoned parts of the city fairly clear in comparison to Atlanta. Made perfect sense that more people here made it.

"Watch yourself."

Daryl glanced at the guard, considering his words, letting out a snort as he walked out, staring at the path ahead, leading out, back to Georgia. He'd been so eager to leave there once, maybe he was glad to be away from all the dark memories he'd left behind, but there was still some part of him that wanted to go back. Back to where he'd had somebody. Merle. Beth. He might be safer here, but there was no way it would ever be home.

...

There were times when it helped to have something in your mind to focus on. To have a place or a person or just something good, resting in your conscious, reminding you to keep going. If that thought is strong enough, it can pull you out of anything. Doesn't matter how dark things are, or how weak you feel, or how hopeless things might seem. You keep going because your fighting everything the world is throwing at you. Your beating back the rising tide and reaching out for that horizon. Beth knew her thoughts were the only way she was still standing. The only reason she could find to defy the cold and keep moving. It took a day to get here, to Dale, and when they arrived, the sight of walker bodies pulled high outside the gate warned her that there was no one here. The bodies were frozen, killed by bullets. She stood alone, staring at the gate, Morgan still asleep in the car. He didn't need to see this. Didn't need to know they'd hit another dead end. Beth didn't need to walk in and call out for her group. The place was deserted and she could almost feel how long it had been since they passed through. Her heart ached as she studied the dead. None of them were anyone she knew but she pushed through the pile and checked each one. Just to keep her hopes alive.

The snow began to fall again as she dropped to her knees, feeling helpless, lost again. Before long the snow would start to stop them in their tracks and they didn't have enough supplied to last the winter stuck in the car. Staring at the frozen ground, she reached out, just to feel the numb pain of the snow against her hand, to feel something other than the disappointment rushing through her veins. Her fingers brushed something small and hard, digging deeper, they took hold of a square object, dusting the snow away to find a small black book. A bible. It was just like her dad's bible. Opening it, she half expected to see his name scribbled on the first page, frowning as she saw a note. A prayer written in pencil.

'Heavenly father, we pray you save us and bless those who saved us. We leave for Alexandria safe zone, for the promise of safety. We leave you to watch our dead and heal our mortal wounds. Amen.'

Alexandria. Beth suddenly felt a surge of warmth emanating from her chest. She didn't care how stupid she felt to believe in miracles, but the book was the closest she had ever felt to receiving something from some unseen force. There was no name, no mention of her group or who was dead and who had made it, but Beth pushed away her doubts, running to the car, smiling as she mumbled a thanks to her father. Wherever he was. Finally, she'd found a final destination. Perhaps, if the heavens were on her side, she would find them before the day was over. Back to those she loved and missed and had fought so hard to find. Back to Daryl.