AN: My thanks to everyone who has favorited or reviewed this story. I'm really enjoying writing it, and if no one was interested in it, it would've been really hard to justify keeping it going.

Inside. They were inside of the gates - cut off from the sprawling wasteland outside. Trapped. Morgan was off to the side, speaking in hushed tones to Rick. She stood awkwardly, gripping her knife, the one the blond man had attempted to take from her; Daryl had stopped him with a harsh word she had been unable to hear over the pounding of her own heart. Still, his tone cut through, like a rock sailing through glass.

She had been turning her own name over in her head again and again (Beth, Beth!, Beth?), when the sound of feet hitting ground had torn her out of it. A woman, slightly older than herself, with brown hair was running full steam ahead. A man followed her, gun strapped to his back, shouting her name.

"Maggie! Maggie! Slow down," he tried.

"Where is she?" the woman demanded right as her eyes landed on her. "Oh my God! Oh God! I can't believe you're here. I can't believe -"

"She don't remember anythin'," Daryl cut in. "She ain't got a damn clue who none of us are."

"But she's alive," the man said, then turned to her calmly. "I'm Glenn. I'm married to Maggie. She's your sister."

Sister; she knew the word - it was one of the few that hadn't got knocked out of her brain. Of course, like many words, she couldn't exactly remember it in relation to herself - so when the older woman had tried to wrap her arms around her, coming at her like a tornado of tears and amazement, she stumbled over her own feet to get away.

Though Maggie looked like she'd been slapped, she straightened up her shoulders, and gave a watery smile. Glenn took a couple of steps until he was standing next to his wife, hand rubbing up and down her back comfortingly.

"I'm sorry," Maggie said. "I didn't mean to... I just never thought I'd see you again. And honestly, I don't care if you don't remember me. We can make new memories. We can start over. Just as long as you're here - and you're here, so it's fine. It's great. It's so great."

"Nice... to meet," she forced out; she was unsure how to respond to Maggie's intensity. The woman was looking at her expectantly, so she added, "...great?"

"I'm sorry you had to wake up alone," Maggie said, tears now running down her cheeks.

"She didn't," Rick said as he and Morgan joined the conversation. "Morgan here got her out of there and took care of her. And when you're confused and without your family, he's a good person to have around. I oughta know."

"Well, I don't know how great I was. And I'm sure P. here could tell you some horror stories -"

"P?" Maggie asked.

"Oh, that's what she picked," Morgan said. "She couldn't remember so -"

"Phoenix," she said, interrupting him. "Phoenix. Not P."

"Phoenix?" Maggie asked, a laugh escaping her. "That is just like ya, Bethy. Why don't you two come with Glenn and I? We'll get y'all cleaned up for dinner!"

She followed the woman who was her sister. The woman she could not remember. As she was passing, she could see the bowman's hands twitch, fingers opening and closing by his thighs, as if wanting to reach for something. Wanting to hold on. She looked past him, to the house, and felt a pressure building on her chest.

She wanted to run.

Dinner was small - just herself, Morgan, Maggie, Glenn, Rick, and Daryl. Her sister promised there were more people that were excited to see her. Family, Rick had called them - though she got the sense it was more of a broad term than literal. She had nodded politely, cutting into the meat that had been identified as deer. Daryl had caught it, though that hardly came as a surprise given how she'd seen him aiming his crossbow when they'd first met; the man was a hunter through and through.

Maggie did most of the talking. Rick threw in asides here and there, when not in conversation with Morgan. The only person who said less than her was Daryl. He stared at his plate, holding his fork so hard his knuckles were white. It made her uncomfortable, but sympathetic. She would rather be anywhere but here, and it looked as though he shared that feeling too.

"I want... to walk," she declared, pushing away from the table.

"I could show you around?" Maggie volunteered.

"No," she said quickly, trying not to notice the hurt in her sister's eyes. "Clear my head. Okay?"

"It's safe here," Rick said. "She'll be fine to take a walk around on her own."

"Staying with... Morgan," she pushed out. Living arrangements had yet to be made, but she wasn't leaving it until everything was settled without her and she was stuck bunking with her sister and Glenn. "Only person... I know."

"That's fine," Maggie assured her. "You two will be right next door to us. This is our house. You're in the one on the left."

Suddenly Daryl stood up from the table, smacking it with his leg, making the dishes rattle. He cursed under his breath, but said nothing else, exiting the room quickly and slamming the door behind him. She wanted to ask Rick what his friend's problem was, but couldn't stomach socializing one more minute.

She waited a minute or two at the door, hoping the bowman was gone. When she stepped outside, the cool night air greeted her. She breathed in deeply, tasting a little freedom, pushing herself far away from the house and the people inside of it. She walked around the property, noticing how large it was, feeling a little confused at the layout.

About a half hour had passed when she found herself sitting in a look-out post on the wall. On the other side were empty buildings, abandoned cars - and further off, trees, hinting at wilderness, where she had felt most at home. She ached to go there. To disappear into the night.

"Too high for jumpin'," a voice said, causing her to whip her head around.

She found Daryl standing on the plank leading up to her, cigarette burning in his mouth. He looked lost, like he didn't know what to say to her. Well, at least the feeling was mutual. She looked back at her hands, then past the walls again.

"Follow me?" she asked.

"What, girl?" he said, sitting down next to her, not close enough to touch.

"Did you... follow me?"

"Hate to break it to ya, but this here is my spot," he said, nodding toward the corner where there was over a dozen cigarette butts mashed into the wood.

"Oh," she said stupidly. "Sorry. Go?"

"Naw," he said, ashing with a graceful flick of his fingers. "Y'ain't gotta go."

"Okay," she said.

They sat like that in silence for a while. Him, smoking - her, wishing. Wishing she were still out on the road. Wishing no one had recognized her. Wishing she would never have to deal with all these expectations to be who she was, or to be better. Those two things were so far from her grasp they were damn near impossible, but the fact that she had survived seemed to spark a belief in miracles - she could see it in her sister's eyes.

"Morgan," Daryl said, "he been okay to ya? He seems a little... off."

"All are," she said with a huff.

"But he's treated ya alright? Right?" Daryl asked, eyes flicking over to her face. She could feel his gaze on the side of her cheek. "I know ya don't remember us, but if anything happened, y'could tell us."

"He... saved me," she pushed out. "Maybe not... all there. I'm not either. All there. But Morgan is... friend. All I know. Morgan is all... I know. He's... alright."

"Take your word for it, then," Daryl said, letting the subject drop easily. "Y'hate it here, huh?"

"... no," she tried.

"Y'wanna be out there," he said. "I know that look. But there ain't nothin' out there for ya. Maggie was right, y'know. Y'could start over."

"Life... doesn't work that way," she responded. "There is... no... over. No Beth. No... nothing. Just... this. This head. This... brain. This... broken."

"Y'ain't broken, girl," Daryl argued, anger seeping into his voice.

"You don't... know me."

"I knew ya before!" he said, fists clenching.

"Knew. Before. Before... bullet. Before... almost dead. Before... dark," she said, exhausting herself. "I need to... go."

"Don't," Daryl whispered, and then louder again, "just... don't."

"What?"

"Don't... disappear again," Daryl asked. "Stay here. With us. With all of us. With Morgan. We'll make it work for you. Just don't go again."

She was stunned at the emotion on his face. How he could go from completely shut down to an open wound - an open book. She read him like she knew him - had known him for a long, long time. Which, she guessed she had. Maybe it was muscle memory. Or maybe he was just a bad bluff.

"I go... where Morgan... goes," she said easily. "And he goes... where Rick goes."

"Goodnight, Phoenix," Daryl said, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

She climbed down the ladder, hitting the ground with both feet, making a satisfying thud. The walk back to the house wasn't as confusing and she found it with little problem. Morgan was sitting outside, talking to a man she hadn't met. She walked past them, going in the back way, shutting the door behind her. It wasn't until she was alone in kitchen of the house that she realized Daryl was the first person to ever call her by her name.