A/N: Thanks for all the niceness! I've been getting some PMs with regard to the whole Beth / Daryl aspect of this fic. If it wasn't clear in the first of my author notes, or with the fact I haven't categorized this as Bethyl, let me be perfectly clear: Beth and Daryl will not be hooking up, bumping uglies, doing the bad thing, or any other version of sexing. I have no problem with those two hooking up, don't get me wrong, but this isn't the fic where you'll find it. I can happily recommend some great Bethyl fics where clothes come off and such, if you like.

Carl had grown a lot since I last saw him. He was as tall as I was, and I had a feeling he'd keep sprouting upwards, too. He loped beside me at an easy pace as we set out before sunrise the next morning. Daryl had lingered while we were getting ready, and he always seemed on the verge of saying something before he decided better of it. He and Rick took point, but I didn't miss the way he'd cast a glance backwards, like he was making sure I was still there.

The hours before dawn are eerie. Shadows play in your mind, and it's darker than midnight. It's hard to see anything a foot in front of your face, and I was thankful for the pale gravel that made up the path to the road. There was no wind that morning, and it was cold, and my breath was the only other thing I could see out there. We stalked quietly on either side of the path, the long grass better for hiding the sounds of footsteps. I felt more at ease then than I had in days. Stillness and quiet took a hold of me, and I floated along the path, my eyes sweeping for movement.

Having only myself to rely on in the mountains, I learned to trust my senses beyond what Daryl had tried to teach me in those days after the prison. My instincts were sharp; after endless days in the mountains, trying to find my way out, I learned to listen for the sounds of birds, and of wind, of the world waking up and taking a deep breath before stretching in the morning sun.

There was no sunrise that morning, not one that made a significant difference. The cold remained as the sky lightened, and when the first calls of warblers came from the creeper vines along the road, I relaxed a little, and let my eyes adjust. The clouds were heavy and grey; I knew that there would be rain before midday. Storms seemed to move faster on flatland. I'd watched them roll in high up in the mountains, and seen how they played in the distance on the foothills.

My eyes were fixed on Daryl's crossbow, and the way he and Rick walked almost in tandem. It was good for both of them, the bond that they shared. Even with my gaze pointed forward, I could feel Carl stealing glances, and I turned towards him, just as he tried to sneak another one.

I raised my eyebrow expectantly as he stared at me, and he quickly looked away with a mumbled, "Sorry." He lifted his rifle from one shoulder to the other, and then he looked back, his face curious. "You cut your hair," he pointed out.

"Yeah," I shrugged, not wanting to go into details.

"I like it," Carl decided.

"Ain't a fashion statement," I muttered, looking back to Daryl and Rick.

I heard Carl chuckle beside me, but he didn't push the conversation any further in that direction. Instead, he tried a new route.

"Dad says you were in the mountains. What was it like?"

"Cold," I shrugged. "And dark. And lonely." I glanced at him and saw his face drawn in thought as he nodded.

"I've never been," he confessed.

"I hope you never get to," I said with all honesty.

"Things happened here, too, you know. Did Maggie tell you?"

I shook my head. "Haven't really had anything worthwhile to say to her."

"You should talk to her," Carl continued. "When we…when we found them at Terminus, she was so upset that you weren't there. We all were." He frowned then. "Daryl was angry for a really long time. He didn't say much for the first little while. I mean, Daryl doesn't say much anyway, but we noticed. He and Maggie carried a lot of the grief." Carl shrugged and spread his hands out. "She didn't want him blaming himself."

"I don't blame him, Carl," I said with all honesty. "The people that are to blame…they're gone now." My fingers curled, and I remembered how the skin felt tight as their blood dried.

"You killed them."

I didn't say anything. I'd done more than just kill them. I'd hunted them down, and watched them bleed out into the snow.

"I've killed people, too, you know."

Torn from visions of thick red melting into white, I faltered at his conversational tone, and slowly turned to look at him.

Shrugging again, he went on. "The first one was impulse. I'm not proud of it." He tilted his head contemplatively. "Your dad saw it, too. I thought a lot about it, afterwards. Do you think about it? About the people you killed?"

"No," I answered hastily.

"Then, what are you afraid of?"

"Didn't it change you?" I asked. I had a feeling he'd been spending a lot of time with Daryl in the months I'd been gone. He seemed to have the same ability to read people. If he stared hard enough into my eyes, would he see all the ugly things I still saw?

"You tell me," Carl shrugged. "Last fall, after…you know." I nodded, knowing he was referring to when I was taken. "Dad, Michonne, and I ran into a group. It was the same group that squeezed us out of a house we were scouting. Dad got caught upstairs, under a bed, and ended up killing one of theirs in the bathroom. Choked him out with his bare hands.

"Anyway, about a week later, they found us. They'd been scouting us the whole time, determined to get revenge or whatever. Daryl was with them, had been helping them scout us, but he didn't know that. They caught us in the night, on the side of the road. I…one of them grabbed me. Said they had plans for Michonne, and then me, and that they'd kill Rick after he watched…" Carl trailed off with a scowl. "The one who grabbed me held me down. Pushed my face in the dirt. Grabbed my belt, told me keep fighting, just made him want…more." He rubbed his hands over his face and took a sharp breath.

I held my own breath, knowing all too well what Carl had gone through. My throat tightened at the thought, and I didn't want to think about what had happened - or what might have happened.

"Dad killed the leader.," Carl continued. "Tore his throat open with his teeth. I've never seen my dad like that before. Everyone has a breaking point. A point where they say 'enough', and they either fight, or they give up."

Carl fell silent for a moment, and I stared at him, wide eyed, as we continued walking along the road. "He's still my dad. He still takes care of Judith, still loves her, and he loves Michonne. He's the same guy, you know. He just did what needed to be done to protect us, and himself. He did it to make sure we all stayed together." Carl tilted his head at me again and narrowed his crisp blue eyes at me. "So, what made you fight? You had a choice, give up and die, or kill them before they killed you. Why did you kill them? Was it for the sake of just killing? Cuz I don't believe that for a second, Beth. That's not you. But I believe you're the type of person who won't give up. You've always tried to keep us together – you're like your dad, did you know that?"

"Carl," I warned, shaking my head.

He took another breath. "Why did you kill them?"

"I didn't want to be their plaything anymore," I murmured. "And I wanted to…" I broke off, looking up the way to where Rick and Daryl had paused, crouched low to the ground, murmuring about whatever Daryl was pointing at.

I drew another breath, ready to tell Carl that I had wanted to let Daryl know I was okay, and that I didn't blame him for anything, and that he kept me alive, the thought of him made me fight. Before I could muster the words, Rick had stood and was walking towards us, waving us closer.

"Herd passed by here about an hour ago," he said in a low voice. "Daryl figures there were at least twenty, but it's hard to tell with the tracks. Best we keep quiet, keep our eyes open. Carl and I will bring up the rear." His eyes cut to me. "Can you take point with Daryl?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I can do that."

Rick smiled warmly. "Good. We'll go two by two until we hit the tracks, and turn west. After that, it's only a few hours walk. We should see the housing development before midday."

I nodded again, and made to move away, but Carl's voice halted me.

"Hey." He gestured towards me, and the road ahead. "I've got your back."

"Thank you," I whispered, trying out a small smile on him.

When he returned it, I made my way to Daryl, and fell into step along side him.

She was good at keeping quiet and seeing things in the leaves at their feet, and the branches and vines at their sides. Of course, Daryl supposed she would be good, after making her way back to Georgia after almost six months. He found himself watching her, and the way she tilted her head, or gingerly touched an outline in the mud, a turned leaf, or a torn patch of moss. She did this thing where her hand hovered over her newly discovered clue, and closed her eyes, pushing her face into the air, her mouth slightly open, like she was breathing in the forest itself, searching for whatever it was hiding in the shadows. When her eyes would open, she'd nod, more to herself, and then motion in the direction the group of walkers had gone. So far, she'd tracked them in a sweeping arc, east, and then south, a good ways away from their shelter, and their goal for the day.

Daryl smiled to himself as he moved behind Beth. Jesus, she was different. He guessed that seeing the group evolve through the last months had made Beth's transformation that much more jarring. He'd known she wasn't a kid anymore. She hadn't been one for some time. The term 'girl' was one he assigned her out of affection, and familiarity, and because of the bond that had grown between them in their short time together. He found it still rolled off the tongue easily when it came to her, and there was a part of him that longed to rediscover that bond. Seeing her in the forest like this spoke to that part of him, and so as Rick and Carl silently moved behind them, Daryl edged closer to Beth, and tried to find someway to start a conversation.

"How long was I gone?"

Daryl drew up short, startled, though he tried to hide it. Beth had beaten him to breaking the silence, but there had been no build up to her question. She was as blunt as she ever was, but instead of looking up at him with those damned imploring blue eyes, she kept her gaze on the forest, scanning methodically.

"One hundred and sixty-seven days," he replied, not missing a beat. "And sometimes I still think I'm dreamin' when I see you."

She paused mid-step, and finally blinked up at him. "You dreamt about me?"

Daryl smirked, and he shrugged again, before looking to his bow and fiddling with a bolt. "Felt more like you were haunting me, t'be honest." His eyes found Beth's, and he squinted as the sunlight cut in through the branches overhead. "An' it doesn't help that you walk around here like a ghost."

She frowned and quickly looked everywhere but him. He moved closer to her, and his hand inched out along to where hers hung at her side. "Tell me about this," he murmured, placing a warm, steady hand over her broken fingers. "Can you?"

"Please don't," she mumbled, drawing her hand back. "Don't ask me to do that."

Frustrated, but understanding, he pulled his hand back and bobbed his head. "When you feel like it…"

Beth nodded, cutting him off. She glanced back, seeing Carl and Rick pick their way through along the path they were following. "I'm not as chatty as I used to be," she added wryly.

"Yeah, noticed that," Daryl replied.

"Sorry to ruin your expectations," Beth muttered.

Daryl bit back his own snarky remark, knowing that pressing her to talk would result in the opposite of what he was trying to achieve. He knew all the defense mechanisms; he still used them from time to time. At least, he had, while she'd been gone. When he'd first glimpsed her blue eyes in the forest, staring up at him, her small voice confessing she'd been searching for him, he'd almost burst with relief, and every emotion he'd kept in check threatened to seep out the cracks that had suddenly appeared in the armor he'd forged when she'd been taken.

"The only thing I expect," Daryl began with a strained voice, "is that you won't let whatever happened haunt you for the rest of your days. It's done." He stopped, and Beth did too, and he stared into her eyes pointedly. "Dead, and buried, up in those mountains."

"Dead," she repeated flatly. "Not buried." She looked at Daryl. "I left them to freeze, and burn in the snow." Turning her gaze back to the forest floor, she spotted a depression in the leaves, and crouched low to investigate.

Daryl nodded again, not that she saw it. He knew from her tone that she wasn't about to be forthcoming with any further details at this moment. Instead, he followed her lead. He would track beside her, watch her signals, and give his own when needed, until they were out of the woods.

The run was uneventful in that we didn't run into walkers, or other people. We found a few boxes of ammo, some more dried goods, and tins of fruit and vegetables, and we took what we could safely carry at this point, deciding to bring the one vehicle that had gas back the next day after we'd returned to the house. There was clothing, too, and blankets, but Rick assured me that we had enough. I guess spending four weeks in the mountains at the end of winter will make you wary about being cold. They'd stocked up the last winter, and he went on to explain that there was even a stash of things for me, that Daryl had added to it when he found something suitable, in hopes that he'd find me sooner rather than later. I couldn't imagine what was in those boxes - pieces that used to belong to someone else that were kept for a version of me I wasn't sure existed anymore.

It wasn't like I was choosy; I'd taken what I could during my trek out of the mountains, and for the most part, I'd been undetected, and clothes had been lifted from makeshift laundry lines, packs lifted from people who had fallen asleep on watch. The entire time, I'd hunted, relatively unsuccessful in my attempts to snare something at first, but the more I tried, the better I got, and I tried my hardest to remember anything that Daryl had told me before. I searched the woods for him, as I made my way south, hoping that being in his element would bring me closer somehow. Maybe it did. I was really good at tracking, at covering my own tracks, and becoming self-reliant.

Daryl had picked up signs of a herd passing nearby as we skirted the housing development and made our way back towards camp, so our path had been diverted, putting us further away from home than we wanted to be. Night fell, and soon the decision to stop for the night was made. Rick and Carl gathered wood, while Daryl nodded at me, and then to the trees, asking me to walk a perimeter, and set minimal defenses as best we could, with snares, and a line made of bear bells that Carl had pocketed in one of the houses. When we'd secured our camp as best we could, we headed back, and found the fire started, and Carl working on opening a tin of something, while Rick pored over the map he'd stuffed in his pocket that morning. He'd take first watch, he announced, and we settled down to put something in our stomachs, slake our thirst, and wait.

"Are you real?" I whispered in the cold shadows of that room.

The Daryl in my brain shook his head, and he offered a small, sad smile. "Sorry, darlin'."

"Are you lookin' for me?"

This time, he nodded. "Every day. But you gotta do your part, too. Can't just leave it up to me."

I sighed, and let my tears run. "I know," I choked out. "I'm scared."

"Me, too," Daryl-in-my-brain replied.

My aching fingers swirled the dirt of the floor, making patterns in the dark. I wrapped my arms around myself and closed my eyes, allowing myself to believe it was Daryl – not Daryl-in-my-brain but actually Daryl, pulling me towards him, holding me tight, and safe. "Be a good girl," he muttered into my hair. "An' don't take their shit."

"Daryl," I replied. I hummed as his fingers flitted over my hair.

"Wake up, darlin'."

I opened my eyes and found I was curled into a blanket, and Daryl was there, his blue eyes glittering in the scant firelight.

"You were talkin' in yer sleep," Daryl said softly.

My voice caught in my throat. These days it was hard to tell the difference between dreaming and awake, and my hand reached out of its own accord and curled on the ground next to Daryl's outstretched hand.

"Are you real?" I whispered. I held my breath waiting for the answer. The brush of his fingers against mine made my throat tighten, and I bit my tongue as he wove his fingers between mine.

"Yeah," he whispered back. "I'm here, an' you're here with me. We're in the woods, in Georgia. Rick's on watch. Carl's asleep."

I closed my eyes as a wave of emotion crashed over me. Nodding to myself, I licked my lips, grimacing at the way my mouth had dried. The warmth of Daryl's hand left me, and I groaned feebly, missing the contact. I heard him moving about, and opened my eyes. He handed me a bottle of water, and I drank gratefully. "They didn't give me a lot of water," I gasped after I'd swallowed the rest of the bottle down. "I was always thirsty."

Daryl nodded, dark hair swinging over his eyes, and he took the empty bottle from my hands and tucked it away. Leaning on one elbow, he stared into the fire. Daryl had a silence about him, a way of not looking at you and yet looking into you all at the same time. It was unnerving now, when before it had just been annoying. You could never lie to Daryl. He'd always see the truth in you, whether you let it all pour out in verbal hemorrhaging, or you said nothing at all. He was patient. He could wait.

"The one with the grey eyes was the worst. There were three of em'," I started, sitting up under the blanket. Movement caught my eye, and I looked to see Rick emerge from the trees, glance our way, and then give one of those faint nods that I knew Daryl returned. Then, Rick disappeared again to do another sweep.

"Two men. One woman." I frowned. "The woman was strange. Like she resented me, and treasured me all at the same time." I dared to peek at Daryl. He'd turned to his side so that he faced me more, but he was focused on the ground, his head bobbing as I spoke, his way of saying he was still with me.

"Said ya heard me. In your brain?"

I smiled wanly. "For days, and days. You were with me there in the dark of that car, and for days after, when I was really afraid. When it got dark. When they came back. I saw you, too. You were so real it was like I could touch you. I tried to so many times. I tried to remember what you sounded like. What you looked like, and smelled like, and felt like…" I froze, feeling like I was bleeding all over the place from a gaping wound.

Daryl remained still and silent, knowing that any movement could spook me. Sucking in a deep breath, I went on. "You were always there, when I was alone. You told me not to give up. That you were looking for me, but I had to do my part, too."

"I was," Daryl admitted. "Lookin' fer ya. Every day." His voice was thick with emotion.

Somehow, I knew that, without him having to tell me. I nodded. "When things got…bad…you were there. For a little while. When they…when I was bleeding, or crying, or fighting, you were there." My vision began to blur, and my tears made the firelight that much brighter. I sniffed, feeling my throat swell, and my fingers curled, aching, knuckles cracking. "And then one day," I stuttered, my voice thin and wavering, "you weren't there." A sob broke my voice and I swiped at my eyes. "You left."

"I have never left you, Beth," Daryl growled. His hands curled into fists, and I could see the tension flooding into his arms, his shoulders, his face.

"But I was alone," I whimpered. "And all I had was me. Or something that I thought was me." I shook myself, and wiped my nose on my sleeve. With a hard swallow, I looked up at Daryl, and blinked away the last of my tears. "I killed all of them," I said hollowly. "And my hands were soaked in their blood." I uncurled my fists. "Sometimes I can still see it, staining me past my wrists." A shuddering sigh left me, and my hands went to my hair, pushing it from my face. "I cut my hair off the next morning," I said, fingering the shorn length. "He…he liked to use it to move me to his liking. I didn't want anyone to have that hold on me again." I stole another glance at Daryl.

His hand moved towards me. I hadn't sought physical contact from anyone, and other than Bob's examination, everyone seemed to tiptoe around me. I couldn't help but flinch, and Daryl's eyes softened, and seemed sad for a moment. But he kept going, and I held my breath as his fingers settled in my hair, brushing it back from my face, skimming the scar through my eyebrow.

"We all got scars. Inside, n'out. Means you fought." His thumb traced over the old scar on my wrist, and when I tried to pull away, his hold tightened on me.

Something in his words rang familiar with me, and I closed my eyes, suddenly remembering a very similar conversation with him back when we were running together.

When I opened my eyes, he turned my hands over with his, and curled our fingers together once more. "Your hands are clean, Beth. Always have been. I know that you can't go back to the way you were. Not all the way. But there are parts of you that are too important to lose all together."

He was watching me now, poised to say something more, when Rick melted from the trees with the faint rustle of leaves. "Close to morning," he announced around a yawn. He nudged Daryl with a toe. "Wanna take over?"

"I'll do it," I said, already scrambling to my feet and shouldering the rifle I'd tucked in beside me. "Probably won't sleep anymore, anyway," I added, more to myself. I took a deep breath of cool, damp air, trying desperately to clear my head.

"Makes two of us," Daryl grumbled. His voice followed me across the small camp as I stepped along the trees. "Stay close."

"I will."

"Promise?" The shadows danced over his face, but I heard the expectation in his voice.

I nodded once, and stepped into the pines.