The word 'swamped' doesn't even cover my self-induced stress right now! I'm moving away from some of the shows lil' detail cause it's too much to have to fit in if I do, so read it as you don't know about all this stuff ;) special shout out to ' .that. .you' it was lovely speaking to you- everyone go shower her with love!

The flu had a distinctive set of symptoms. After two says Rick was positive enough in them to tell the entire group what to look out for. Firstly you started avoiding bright lights, this changed into a tension-like headache. Then the fatigue set it, one might convince themselves it was dehydration or too long in the Georgia sun without food. Sweat, coughing and then vomiting. The last stage was falling into a deep sleep, barely waking but to cough up blood and the pressure on your body to kill you. Then you died. And then you turned.

They had lost five more people, there were still 14 in isolation with Dr. S, only he had started coughing too. Rick told them this over a meeting of the remaining remember, urging them all to spend as much time outside as possible. Close confinement was killing them. The walkers might be what caused it, or they might not. But concrete confined space was the greater of two evils now.

Daryl was in the guard tower, agitation in his own lack of sleep. The last thing Glenn had told him before he was admitted to isolation himself was that if Daryl didn't rest he was going to be allowed to see Beth, but not in a good way. But her state was frightening him. No one knew what happened with her. When Rick last spoke to her she was fine, then Maggie saw her holding her head and described her as 'unusually irritable'- this led them all to believe she had the headache. But no one had heard coughing or vomiting, there were no signs none at all. Until she was in bed napping but wouldn't wake up. And she hadn't woken up since.

Somewhere in the distance searching for supplies Maggie, Michonne and Bob battled to save the others. He should be with them, they could be dying and it would be his fault, then why didn't he feel guilty? Because the guilt of Beth dying when he was away would kill him. It wasn't fair, she had just decided to grasp this life with two hands. Cruel irony.

Without her hear it was all dull again. His own mind pounded between thinking about her and what he would do without her. He had lived before her, well lived was a classy way of saying existed. The shitiness before the outbreak wasn't much of a life. He used to follow merle idly masking his emotions when the broke free with sex, drugs and booze- just like Merle did. Daryl see, Daryl do. Even after finding a place here there wasn't much to do but think about the dead, those who no longer suffered and continue fighting for survival. Fighting was all her knew. Then she fucking waltzed in and changed it all.

He hated her for changing his non-existing. For telling him the emotions aren't bad and that if you wear them on your sleeve like her at the very worst you'll get a bit bruised but keep struggling. His cigarettes were down- god, she hated him smoking said it'd kill him. He told her the dead would get him before cancer would and she had simply pursed her lips. Sitting here felt awkward, nothing to do anymore. He would spend a day on watch in secret silence with himself, chain smoking and aiming arrows long range toward the fence. All those times, all those hours she wasn't even present for- but simply knowing she wasn't somewhere cooking or looking after children made it feel like she was missing.

Daryl wasn't a kicked dog anymore. No, he was more than that- he had changed somewhere along the way. But he wasn't sure what he had changed into when she wasn't around. So he simply sat and waited for her to join him, and she would eventually.

Dark thoughts settle in at dark times. He turned to his left, instinctively looking where she would occasionally join him. It was empty and somehow the world seemed just a bit too big. She would voice her thoughts, take a look at his face and ask what was wrong. Maybe he wold tell her how scared of saying he was, how giving up wasn't an option because he came into this world battling monsters. And perhaps he'd say nothing, press his leg against hers a tiny bit harder. Sometimes voicing it isn't necessary when you know there's someone to listen. This hollowness- was this how Beth felt when she lost her mother? Is this what she meant by being lonely in losing a confidant? It must be, it simply must. She had been right, he smirked to hide the absurd desire to cry, it was unbearable. Maybe if he had lost her after 16 years together he'd try to kill himself too.

It seemed to hit him in a real moment, the possibility of Beth not making it, of him being like this for the rest of time. What if she died, what then?

Beth wanted to moan, everything was too hot but it was so so cold. Trying to move was tiring, it was too hard to try and move anywhere so she stayed sill floating in between her unconsciousness and her desire to be conscious. What was happening to her? Maybe the walkers got her- maybe she was dead. Only she didn't remember dying, but hey, maybe you don't remember how you go. Was she in heaven then? No his murky prison of isolation wasn't what she was told, alive then? Until the light or voice came she'd presume so.

The pain was only bearable because she had no choice but to take it. Everything prickled and ached, her head perhaps crowning the glory of excruciation. She wanted to whimper or scream or do anything at all, but nothing was coming but her own sweaty struggle. This could be the end, the big question of what happens after you die. Had she come back, is that why she was held back?

She thought of the people she had lost, her poor mother mostly- had she endured this pain too? She hoped not, if she had the only comfort could be that she was stabbed in the brain and that had to finish this pain. Oh god, what if that's why her head hurt what if this was it. Panic was rising bout not breathing wasn't really a capability. The world was cruel. Her mind thought to her daddy, to Daryl, to Maggie to poor poor baby Judith. Were they going to miss her- or was she some liability they've been waiting to go?

She knew she wasn't like her sister or Michonne, she bet however she went was equally pathetic as slapping yourself in the morning when you turn over because your arm is dead. She didn't feel she contributed enough to be missed. Once that had been some sort of relief, in those weeks she had been so certain this is what she wanted, that her superfluousness was the key to aiding her guilt. Now she wished she was a fighter so she wouldn't go. That she would be remembered, eighteen years couldn't just be blown out, right? But no she had wasted her life in being too soft, a background character and too quiet. No one was going to miss her, perhaps she should just stop fighting this.

Daryl came after watch to sit outside the door to death row. Rick had warned him against it but that wasn't likely to stop him. So instead he only took his pillow and blanket from his cell so he could stay there all night, like Hershel had advised him. He took his usual spot, the place he went whenever there wasn't a job to do. The new location was as grey as the last, but the walk provided a few moments of release for the pent up emotion.

''You care about my daughter?'' Herschel's voice jolted him, it sounded so different than the anger of weeks ago. There was concern here, and genuine care in this sick uniting cause. Herschel would rather swallow the discomfort of his baby with this broken man than have her dead.

''More than anything.'' Daryl's voice was hoarse, he hadn't eaten yet today, but no doubt Carol would come find him later to try and jar him out of this settling depression. He looked like a dead man, he felt like a dead man- but the thought of Beth still made emotion flare in his not yet dead chest. A yearning, a need burned deeper than his own self-pity.

''I'm going in, I'm the next with training and we can't just let them struggle.'' Only then did Daryl take Hershel in, the rolled up sleeves, smell of soap and mask ready around his neck to pull up. It was logical and couldn't be said to be unexpected due to his morality, but still the connection and respect Daryl had for this man outweighed the religious intent. But if Hershel didn't go in, Beth might die.

''Maggie ain't gonna be happy-'' he grunted looking up, playing his cards close to his chest. He was in inner conflict, wanting to say 'go in quickly and save her' and 'don't go' all at once.

''That's why I'm going now. I'm old Daryl, I'm running on extended time already- look after my daughters if I can't.'' Herschel smiled at the thought of his daughter, but this plague had already taken his youngest and his adopted son. He nodded at Daryl the weight of his gaze giving everything he had before the reality stepped in with the fear.

''You'll be able to, if not we're all here for 'em.'' It was a generic phrase, something that would suit so many of the families in this prison. It was a huge family and so they would all hold out for anyone left behind. But here it seemed so empty- not enough for the grandfather figure of them all. But Daryl wasn't good with words, and he hated how empty everything he could offer was going to be.

He didn't have to say he was going to try his best, that was his little girl in there after all. Herschel patted Daryl awkwardly on the shoulder, taking a breath to steel himself before facing the door. Daryl watched him walk in, knowing this was the last chance he had. The only reason Herschel would go in before Dr. S was useless would be because he was unwilling to give up on his baby.

Daryl waited outside still, more agitated than ever before.

Beth spluttered suddenly, being pulled into the pain as her body independently heaved. Burning heat grabbed her suddenly, making her want to yell out again.

Glenn saw Beth twitch, the first sign of any movement in her. She had been the first found to collapse but the longest clinging on, but it had stared. She had been his hope that the awful processes of death wouldn't necessarily happen to them all. She had been the exception. Her body coughed vibrant red blood trickling down the side of her pale lips. Knowing his job, he rolled her to her side so that she didn't choke on her own blood. Beth no longer counted as the odd one out.

Phew! So thanks guys, please review! xx