Driving from Dale was almost too peaceful a journey. Beth kept expecting to see more men wearing walker skins watching them from the shadows, or cars following them in the mist. When they reached the borders of Alexandria, she was almost sure something was wrong. Something was always wrong. The roads were clear and the towns they passed were abandoned. Walkers were few, seeming to disappear as the snow grew deeper. When they passed an abandoned vehicle by the side of the road a few miles out from Dale, Beth felt confident to search it for supplies. Having a gun again was reassuring in a way she'd long since forgotten. The car had been empty, save for two corpses who had somehow not come back. One of them wore a burgundy jacket with a fur hood, small enough to fit her perfectly. In the fight on the bridge, Beth had stained the one Morgan had given her. Stained with blood and dirt, the fabric torn. She was eager to slip out of it and leave it behind, along with all the painful memories resting within it. The car also had a first aid kit, with bandages that came in handy for Morgan's leg. It may have been a clean break but it needed supporting. Every bump in the road and sharp swerve on the ice made him wince and clutch his injury. He didn't talk much either. The cold had weakened him. Beth knew that if he was suffering from any sort of illness, he could be on a dangerous path unless they found medicine. It made her drive a little faster, a little more edgy as she wondered where the safe zone was.

The snow was their only enemy out here. It fell constantly for the few days they traveled, and the road was slowly beginning to disappear, buried beneath it. The car was starting to strain. When they stopped at night for Beth to sleep while Morgan kept watch, she'd awaken to find the car barely able to start again. The spare gas tank was empty and soon enough, they'd be out of supplies. Unknown to Morgan, she was cutting back her own rations for him. The bag in the back had carried enough food for two days, but Morgan wasn't just suffering from a broken leg. The woman had broken a rib, maybe two, and he was begining to look sick. She heard him, when she slept, groaning as he tried to breathe, holding the left side of his chest. The extra food was keeping him from fading out and Beth was glad the car engine hid how loud her stomach ached for food.

When they passed into Alexandria, Morgan had stirred from his dreamy state, trying to focus on the map, rubbing his eyes as he saw the map begin to blur, "Almost there, Beth."

The words were meant to reassure her, but all Beth could hear was the strain in his tone. The weariness. She bit her lip and resisted looking over at him, focused on the road, forcing a smile, "how about we play a game?"

He let out a breathless laugh, pushing himself up, a hand on his leg, "I know how it goes. Things I miss... The sun."

She nodded, slowing as she rounded a corner, relieved to see buildings in the distance. The skyline was hazy the sun white and swallowed by the dark clouds above them. The road began to narrow and the car began to knock in that way she'd heard so often before. They didn't have long left with the engine and she prayed it could make it to the city, beyond the mist. Sighing, she thought of summer, of he sun and the summer breaks spent at the lake, the ghost kg a smile on her lips as she spoke, "I miss my guitar. My mom bought me one from a thrift shop. Took me a month to clean it up good and get it sounding perfect."

He let out a muffled groan, head leaning back against the head rest, eyes closing as he felt another wave of pain surge through him, focussing on the image of Beth playing her music. Playing like an angel. Sighing, he let out a chuckle, "I promise... We find this place, and I'll find you one. A nice one. I'll even let you play those country songs you love so much."

Beth bit down hard on her lip, trying hard to keep the tears from bursting free, her hand finding his, squeezing it. Hearing someone so strong sound so weak was more painful than any bullet or bruise. To see her saviour, the man who wanted to bring her home and keep her safe, fading away slowly, was unbearable. His hand was cold and clammy, it shook despite how firmly he gripped her palm. He told her to keep going, that he was fine, but if he died, she'd never make it. She'd be here, in this car, forever. Mourning another father lost to this cruel new world.

...

When the car stopped running, she was sure they could manage on foot for the next few miles, until it was clear Morgan couldn't walk unassisted. He insisted she couldnt take his weight and even with a fiery determination to prove him wrong, Beth struggled to help him out from the car, his weight crushing down on her. She didn't want to admit the cold and lack of food had weakened her. Morgan deserved better but even he seemed aware of how futile their efforts were. He'd even suggested she go ahead, leave him there, send help when she found the safe zone. Beth almost screamed at him for ever believing she could do that. Just leave an injured friend behind in the cold so she had a better chance at making it. That wasn't who she was. The moment he said it, her icy fingers had pressed hard against his lips, silencing him. Unable to lose another father. Unable to lose someone she had come to love like family. If he stayed, so did she, regardless of how much she longed for what lay ahead of them. You don't abandon your own. Her father said that once and Beth was his daughter. She put her friends first.

Zipping his coat up, she left him to rest against the car, surveying the road as she murmured to herself, "I can't hold you up... But maybe we can figure a way we can make it easier."

Searching the snow beside the road, she happend upon the remanants of a fence, pulling at a post that was firmly grounded down into the earth. After a moment straining, she decided to push it, rewarded with the splintering crack of wood. The post was solid, steady. A perfect crutch. Her dad survived so many close calls while bound to his crutches. Morgan was lucky he hadn't lose a foot. That might make this impossible. Handing it over to him, she kept hold of her gun, wary of the road behind them, fishing out the beaten sheriff hat from the back seat. Walking to Morgan, she smiled, placing it on his head gently, making sure it was straight.

"It's good luck."

He have her a weak smile, trying to conceal a shiver, frustrated by his weakness as he saw her frown with concern, hurrying to the boot. There was the empty bag that had contained the food, the first aid kit, and a folded pile of woollen blankets. An idea sparked in Beth's mind and she swiftly set herself to work. Using their blankets, she made a thick poncho, tearing holes for the arms with her knife, wrapping it around him, changing the cloth on his leg with the bandages remaining in the first aid kit, ignoring his protests as she forced him to eat the last of the jerky, swearing she'd leave it behind unless he consumed it. The road ahead was long and they wouldn't reach the city any time soon at this pace, but Beth was content with how desolate the area was. Empty stretches of snow lay either side of them, a few walkers roaming about in the distance, the road ahead void of any corpses. The city seemed desolate, and maybe that was a good sign. Less walkers meant something was starting to kill them off. She hoped it was the survivors of the safe zone, killing them off.

Beth knew she had what she needed to get to the safe zone. In her mind, she saw what drove her onwards. It wasn't the promise of warm food or a bed or just to escape the dead. It was Daryl. Waiting for her. Just as she'd last seen him. He thought she was dead and she wouldn't let that stand. He needed her. Unlike Morgan, she still had someone she cared about. Knowing she'd find him, that made her strong. Knowing she could hold Judith again, and hug Rick, and return the snow dusted sheriff hat to Carl, that made her unstoppable. A few miles past the empty stretch of snow to their left, past the office building black with neglect, lay everyone she ever loved. Or at least, those who were left. She couldn't let herself think that way, but with every step forward, she could feel how hard the journey would be, and how weak they had grown. Beth lived in hope, but she knew that their journey could lead them to another dead end, or worse, a place full of strangers and a row of graves where her loved ones slept in eternal slumber.

...

"If I dump this hat in the snow, will you tell Michonne?"

Daryl chuckled as Carl gave him a desperate look, pulling off the faded wooly hat, his expression grim. Daryl shrugged. The hat was ugly. Red and green with weird stitches that looked like Christmas trees. He threw it over the side of the porch, glancing at the front door, being sure he'd not been caught. Daryl liked seeing him like this. Back to being a kid, doing dumb things because he could, not worrying about how many rounds he had left for his gun or what way a walker hoard was coming from.

"Miss my old hat."

Carl glanced up, both sharing a moment of silence, all too aware of what rested on the others mind. Beth. Daryl pulled his shirt collars up, suddenly feeling the cold. Carl smirked.

"Dont let her see you cold or you'll be wearing the scarf she tried to lasso around my neck."

Daryl shook his head, pushing off from the railing, "ain't never had anyone chasing after me to keep warm."

Carl understood what he meant. Daryl's mom wasn't there much and when she died, Daryl was out in the world surviving. As tough as he might think the world had made him, Carl couldn't pretend to have any idea how it felt to not have parents who cared about you. His mom had died for her family. His dad put his life on the line countless of times to save his family and the group. Without them, Carl knew he'd have been dead a long time ago. When he saw Daryl, saw how strong he was, yet how alone and distant he seemed to be, Carl knew that he needed to find someone. A girl, a friend, anything. When they started living here, life had become so safe and easy. His dad worked with Douglas and was home a lot, Michonne watched Judith and kept him laughing. There were kids here Carl's age, the boys always chasing him for stories of how many dead he'd killed the girls seeming to pay him a little too much attention. They were back to a normal life. As normal as they'd ever find out here.

He heard Michonne talking to Judith and suddenly felt strange. That same uneasy feeling rising in his stomach. He glanced at Daryl. His dad was always saying how good a man Daryl was and how he trusted him with everything. Walking over to Daryl, he lowered his voice a little, "I'm just... Getting used to having someone take my moms place."

Daryl nodded. He could have guessed the reason. Heading down the steps, he turned back to Carl, "way I see it, no one can ever replace your mom... But you can't let the past ruin a good thing."

Carl was stunned by the words and nodded, dumbfounded, looking back to the house in time to see his dad emerging. Without a word, Carl went back to the porch rail, leaning over, retrieving the hat, pushing it into his pocket. He'd never been so suprised by someone's advise but the moment Daryl had finished his sentence, Carl could almost see his mom. Standing there. Smiling at him. Willing him to move on and be happy. Ever since they got to Alexandria, he'd been seeing her. In his dreams. Never any bad memories. Just her, standing there, perfect and warm and smiling, watching him. Always so out of reach and yet always there. He didn't tell his dad. He didn't want him to lose himself to grief again. What Daryl had told him gave him all the encouragement he needed. He knew deep down his mom would want him to live, to be happy. Michonne made him happy. Cared about him. Protected him. Loved him like a son. She wasn't there to replace his mom, but she was there to love him the same way. Silently, he went inside, passing through the hall, walking up to Michonne. She was tossing Judith in the air, laughing as his sister babbled. When he was close, she stopped and glanced at him with an unsure smile.

"Everything okay?"

He nodded, wrapping his arms around her, Judith's hands tousling his hair as he spoke, "I'm glad were a family."

...

Rick followed Daryl. A few steps behind. Not ready to start a conversation while they passed most of Alexandria's inhabitants. Things were just starting to settle here. The whisperers hadn't attacked in a while, the winter stocks were full, and everyone was getting ready to plan christmas dinners and church services. Rick's primary concern was his group. Which was why he was following Daryl. It was nearing a week since they arrived and a lot had happened. Abraham and Rosita were buried at the cemetery lot, with gravestones and a proposer funeral service. The father was now part of the new church. Carol and Tyrese were a couple. Maggie was starting to show and Glenn was obsessed with getting a nursery ready early. Noah was helping with building the new library. Tara and Sasha had been training some of the women to use guns. Everyone had found a way to move on.

Even Rick himself had started letting himself enjoy some of the small indulgences of a normal life. He made a snowman with Carl for Judith. He made everyone grilled cheese last night, the first thing he ever made Lori when they first moved in together, and he remembered her with every bite. Lately, he'd started realising how perfect a family he had. Michonne was the mom the kids needed, and he knew too well she wasn't just a friend to him. She'd been more for a while and knowing she was there... It helped him handle all the problems he faced when he had to work with Douglas. The people here were ignorant of how dangerous it was out there and the whisperer threat was one Rick felt needed careful treatment. He didn't want this place to fall like the prison had. He wanted to know who they were up against.

As much as he had on his mind, Daryl was always a worry for him. A person who didn't seem to fit into the new lives they were leading. Someone left behind while they all moved ahead. Daryl didn't have family but Rick wanted him to know that they were there for him. He'd offered him a place under his own roof.

"Daryl, can I get a minute."

He turned around, unaware that he was being tailed, nodding, following Rick to a more desolate space by the stockpile of wood stacked by the low wooden building used to treat meat and make clothes. The low hum of life surrounded them but there was no one else close by. For a moment, Daryl let himself enjoy how free he felt, glancing at Rick with concern as he saw him shift uncomfortably for a moment.

"Something happened?"

Rick shook his head, a hand on his hip, looking toward the wall, "I'm worried about you Daryl."

He should have seen it coming but Daryl looked confused, staring at the ground as Rick looked at him, trying to read him. Of course he had noticed Daryl wasn't 'embracing the fresh start' as Douglas called it the day they arrived here. Wasn't his fault. It was hard enough getting used to not being out there, fighting for something, surviving the way he always had. Go back in time and he'd have warned Rick to mind his business, but they weren't friends then. Now, he wasn't keen on keeping secrets. Not from Rick.

"M'fine. Gettin' used to how things are."

Rick lowered his voice, concern growing deeper as he watched Daryl dismiss the truth, "you gotta let it go. I know it's hard, believe me. We have a chance to start new lives here. I want that for you. You deserve that."

Daryl shrugged. Rick didn't get it. He didn't understand that Daryl wasn't holding himself back. There just wasn't anything to push him forward. Since Grady, all he had to keep him going was the hope that he could save the group from dying out there on the road. Now they were here, he felt useless. No one needed him. There was no one here who he needed. Everyone that ever showed him the promise of a brighter future had died before they could fulfil their promise. Rick saw the conflict in Daryl's eyes and sighed, "What happend... At the hospital... It was awful. That's not somthing anyone can forget, but it's not on you. I know how far you went to save her, but you gotta let Beth go."

Daryl felt angry. A fiery anger that burnt into his skin and made him clench his fists. Hearing anyone say her name was hard but he couldn't stand hearing what he knew was the truth. He had to let her go. Looking to his feet again, Daryl studied the snow and the dirt, the our and the filth, the way the white was polluted by the brown. He looked up at Rick, suprised when he decided to be open, for once, "When we found Carol... When you found Judtih again. I just expected her to be there. Didn't think they'd take her and... I thought I'd find her and bring her home."

"I know," Rick sighed, placing a reassuring hand on Daryl's shoulder.

The bell tolled nearby, the town hall was serving breakfast. Rick knew his kids would be waiting but he wasn't ready to leave. Daryl just gave him a weak smile, nodding, "My problem Rick. You got your own family to watch out for."

As Daryl moved away, heading back home, he called out, "Wouldn't be much of a brother if I didn't keep an eye on you too."

Rick rubbed his eyes, suddenly aware of how much it hurt to think about Grady. How he'd touched Beth's arm and felt that warm reassurance that she was back. That Judith would see the girl who cared for her so much. That Maggie would see her sister again. That Hershel's daughter was safe. When that gun shot hit and he saw her fall, Rick could barely speak, pained by the sight of Daryl picking up her tiny broken body. He sighed, staring up at the sky, watching a flock of black birds flying overhead. Going home. If Rick Grimes could pray for anything, he prayed for Beth to be with her dad. If there was a place after all this. Somewhere for Lori and Hershel and Andrea and Beth and all the others he'd seen fall.

Daryl walked toward the gate, caught off guard by hand on his forearm, the grip warm and familiar. He turned to see Carol, smiling in that warm way he hadn't seen in a while, her hair a little longer, her eyes a little brighter. He'd been a little over protective of her since she had started getting serious with Tyrese, always watching out for anything that might indicate he wasn't treating her right. He felt guilty seeing her. Made him feel like a jack ass for ever thinking a guy like Tyrese would ever hurt her. Not that Carol was the same woman she had been. Back when she was stuck with that pig of a husband. Back when she was beaten around for fun. It still made him mad but seeing her so happy was a relief. She kept a hold of him, eyes searching his, "you know they serve breakfast at the hall."

He shrugged, nodding, unaware of how she rolled her eyes, "you coming or have I gotta get Tyrese to carry you."

She wasn't gonna let him slip away and he groaned, knowing full well he'd never get out of the gate with her watching. As protective as he could be, Carol was his equal. She wasn't stupid. She saw him, alone, never where there were too many people. That was who he was, but she wouldn't let him suffer alone. Letting go of his arm, she took his hand, pulling him toward the hall. He didn't let his hand linger in hers. It hurt to feel that pressure against his palm and the soft touch of fingers across his knuckles. It hurt because he felt Beth, for a second, the ghost of her hand in his. Carol didn't seem to notice, waving at Tyrese and Sasha who were waiting outside. Already, he noticed a few women casting him wary glances and he grit his teeth, shifting the crossbow on his back, wondering how long it would take him to get used to being looked at like dirt.

...

They reached the city outskirts, making their way past office building sat side by side, obstructing her view of what lay beyond them, forcing her to take the roads that were narrow and shadowy. The snow had stopped falling, replaced by a mist that concealed whatever lay before them. Beth tried to stay silent, but her breaths were shaky and there was the echo of every light tap of Morgan's crutch as it struck the road. Their feet were hidden beneath snow. Snow that had not been interrupted since it fell. Beth never did finish her tracking lessons but it was clear that no one had wandered this way in a long time. Maybe Daryl would notice something more, signs of life in the landscape, but all Beth saw were empty roads without a single car or walker in sight. A ghost town. The mist and the snow and the eery silence reminded her of a movie a Maggie took her to see one evening after they'd gone to get daddy's medicine from town. Maggie dared her to see a horror film with her. It would be their secret. Beth wasn't old enough to see it but she snuck in while Maggie distracted the usher. Shivering, she pulled Morgan up as she tried to focus on the memory. The name of the film evaded her but it was about a silent town, haunted by a ghost girl. You only get there by walking into the mist. She'd had nightmares for weeks. If only she'd known that one day, she be living in a world that was darker than any horror film. Monsters would walk the streets and turn your loved ones into mindless walking corpses. Men would try and make you submit to torture or behead your loved ones for power.

Beth always was the kind of girl to get scared easily. Growing up, she'd been afraid of clowns and large dogs and lightning. Shawn used to tease her about the monsters under her bed. It made her frown, walking in the mist amongst a city of dark structures and shadows, that she was the only Greene child to make it. Maggie was fearless. Always had been. Shawn never let anything shake him. Yet it was Beth who made it. Who killed to survive, who saw dead children, who survived a gun shot, who was buried alive. She was still afraid of things but she never let fear control her. Not while she had to survive.

"Sing something."

She slowed as she heard Morgan's whisper, feeling him droop a little, leg shaking as he tried to find a fitting in the snow. Carefully, she adjusted his position, taking more of his weight, firmly holding him against her as he tried to pull away, afraid he'd hurt her. She glanced up, cursing as the mist clouded the street ahead. She'd memorised the map on their way here. This wasn't Main Street. If they wanted to get to the largest road they needed to cut through the building to the left. Spying an alley, she began to head toward it, singing the first song that came to her mind.

'Well you only need the light when it's burning low

Only miss the sun when its starts to snow

Only know you love him when you let him go

Only know you been hight when you feeling low

Only hate the road when you missing home

Only know you love him when you let him go...'

Beth's voice shook as the cold penetrated her jacket and jumper, cutting through her skin. The wind was merciless and the snow left her legs numb, forced to move by what will power she had left. Morgan chuckled and she felt it emanate through her, his chest against her shoulder, his voice weak as he murmured, "another song about him."

Beth felt herself blush. Suddenly aware of what she was singing, too focused on moving to even realise she was speaking what lingered in her mind. The song kept her feeling strong, kept her warm in the inmost way, and she kept going, pulling Morgan through the alley enterance.

'Staring at the ceiling in the dark

Same old empty feeling in your heart

Love come slow and it go so fast

You see him when you fall asleep

Never to touch him never to keep

Cause you loved him too much

and you dive too deep...'

Stumbling, she shook under the weight of Morgan and the numb pain searing through her legs as the snow began to turn her muscles to ice. The snow began to grow deeper as they reached the narrow road that led up to the corner of a towering office block. On the map, she'd found that a lot of Alexadria was acceptable from the road around that corner, but her back began to seize and what was only a few feet ahead felt like a few miles. Her body screamed for her to stop, to drop Morgan down and find some way of regaining her strength, but Beth knew too well that if she let him go, he'd be too concerned by her pain to let her act as his crutch. Even now, as he coughed and muffled a groan, she knew he wanted to stop and she wasn't about to let him give up. They had to make it. They had to survive. Defying every ache in her body, Beth took a firmer hold of Morgan, urging him to more pressure on her, pulling him with her. In her mind, she sought out every dark thought that had haunted her, every person who ever wronged her, every word that ever hurt her.

The first voice to echo through her mind was Dawn's.

'You are nothing except dead or somebody's burden.'

Gritting her teeth, Beth winced as her foot struck something hard beneath the snow, forcing her to pull it free, muscles feeling as though they may break. She thought hard again. She could almost feel the heat of a mans breath, her bruised ribs aching with the memory of the man on the bridge.

'I'm gonna destroy you.'

Then, she felt something different. Something warm and comforting, a forgotten memory resurfacing, drawing her back to the farm, back to the kitchen table with her father. A puppy in his hands. A smile on his face. The puppy whimpered, underweight and abandoned, deep red scars on its face and back legs. Beth was young and cried that she was afraid he'd die so young. Her father looked up at her, her heart burning as the ghost of his face brought fresh tears to her eyes. His words giving her the will to breathe, to walk, to live.

'Hope is the only light that can burn away fear.'

Determined, Beth began to move faster, dragging Morgan toward the corner, breathing in deep breaths of icy air. Nothing was more fierce than a girls love for her father and here, alone, struggling against the odds, Beth felt him with her. In her heart. By her side. She turned to Morgan, smiling, about to tell him they would be okay...

When a groan emerged from the snow beneath her, a hand taking hold of her foot. She turned in time to see a walker, half buried beneath the snow, pulling her, Morgan collapsing as she was dragged, her hands unable to find her knife. Morgan forced himself up, turning, just in time to see the walkers head dropping to Beth's leg, her pained cry breaking every last hope her ever had, training his gun on the dead man, shooting it, dropping to the ground as he began to cry tears of anguish and grief. Behind him, Beth lay still, unable to turn around, a single word emanating from her quivering lips,

"Daddy."