It's so crazy people ship Daryl and Beth, I always thought Beth and Daryl relationship was more like siblings. In season 3, Beth says to Axel that she is 16 years old, so let's just say that she is 17 in season 4, so romantic relationship didn't seem like it. She is too young for someone who's probably in his thirties. (People forget, she is only 5 years older than Carl.)

I was a heavy heart to carry
My beloved was weighed down
My arms around his neck
My fingers laced a crown

I was a heavy heart to carry
But he never let me down
When he held me in his arms
My feet never touched the ground

I'm so heavy
Heavy in your arms
Heavy
I'm so heavy in your arms

Heavy in your arms by Florence and the machine

Chapter 33 - Hope

"Daryl, she's not here," Beth's voice slices through the thick fog of panic that engulfs him. Despite her being only a few feet away, her voice sounds distant and echo. "She's not here," she repeats, hoping to snap him out of his trance-like state.

Daryl's eyes remain fixed on the gruesome sight of Charles, the soldier he had entrusted to protect his Alie, now turned into a walker with a half-eaten face, milky-white eyes, growling and chomping his teeth at him. Jaime's heroic tales of the soldier, the one who had volunteered to go to a warzone in the midst of an apocalypse, now seem like a distant memory, lost in the horror of the present moment.

"Tap on the fence, and draw them away from the openin'," Daryl hears himself say to Beth. His stomach clenches so tightly from the stress that he feels like he's going to vomit any moment.

"No, Daryl!" Beth cries. "You're going to get yourself killed for nothing." But her words can't penetrate the haze of terror and grief that has engulfed him.

"Jus' do what Ah say!" Daryl roars, gasping for air. The overwhelming panic and dissociation threaten to pull the very gravity from under his feet, dragging him down into the abyss of despair. Each breath feels like he's trying to suck air through a narrow straw, as if his lungs have forgotten how to function.

His yelling attracts more walkers, and they begin to pile up not only behind the fence, blocking the opening, but also making their way toward him and Beth on the other side. "No, listen, she's not there, I know it," Beth says, looking around fearfully. "She'll be devastated if something happens to you in there." Her hand reaches out to him cautiously, gripping his arm and gently pulling him away.

"Get off me!" Daryl yanks back, his body shaking. "I need to get in there! I need to know! I gotta know!" She could be in there, hurt, bitten, or even dead. "She begged me to stay with her, and I let her go." Charles would never have let her out of his sight, and if he never made it out, what was the chance that she did.

He had fought his way out of the prison with Beth by his side, using his knife and crossbow to fend off every walker in their path. It had been a stroke of luck that he had found her, or perhaps she had found him, but together they had pushed eastward through the relentless hordes, driven by the knowledge that he had told Alice to head that way.

As they approached the large tree shaped like an umbrella, its leaves cascading down like a delicate veil, his heart pounded with anticipation. But when they finally arrived, his hopes were brutally crushed. The area was empty, devoid of any signs of life except for the dragging marks of walkers' footsteps.

Alice had never made it.

Fear crawled up his spine like a thousand tiny spiders, threatening to paralyze him. Panic flared through his body like an alarm as he realized he had lost the one person he had sworn to protect. He had promised her the night of their reunion, sitting in that eastern guard tower, he had told her that he would do better, that he would keep her safe. She had trusted him with her life, begged him to stay by her side, and now she was gone.

He turned and ran back to the prison, his stomach churning with dread. He knew deep down that he wouldn't find anything - the place was on fire, and hundreds of walkers had filled the open field. Holding onto Beth with one hand, he ran as fast as she could follow him, fear whispering softly in his ears. He had lost his Alie forever, the woman who was his, who he had just found again. Why had he trusted Charles? Why hadn't he gone with Alice? He would never see his wife again.

"I promise you she's not here, Daryl," Beth pleads, holding her knife and preparing for the walkers approaching them. "Please don't do this."

"How do ya know?" Daryl growls with anger, dropping his crossbow and pulling out his hunting knife. The rage fuels him as he swings the blade wildly, driven by a mix of desperation, fear, and panic coursing through his veins. The only sounds he hears are the crunching of skulls as he fights relentlessly until no walkers are left in sight. At the end, he is breathing heavily, his hands covered in the blood and guts of the dead.

"I shoulda gone with her. I told her I was right behind her," he whispers, his chest heaving. "I shoulda been there to protect her."

"Dad used to say to have hope, even when things look dark and you can't see the light, have hope." Beth says softly, biting her lip as she thinks of her father, whose body is likely not far from where they stand. "You have to have hope and trust in her, Daryl. Trust her."

In that moment, Daryl's mind travels back to the last time he saw Alie in her youth, just before he lost everything. They were standing behind the bleachers on the school grounds, her eyes wet with tears as she begged him to trust her. And she had kept that promise, coming back with a letter to try and reach him. If it wasn't for his brother, who knows what would have happened. She never gave up on him, even after all these years.

"Then she's out there all alone," he says, fighting back tears as he feels his heart shattering into a million pieces.

"She's not, and even if she is, if anyone can make it out there on their own, it's her. And besides, she's probably with Jamie. He wouldn't leave her alone," Beth reassures him, her eyes teary but firm, glowing with optimism.

"How do ya know? How kin ya be so sure that she ain't in there?" Daryl asks again, weighed down by grief and guilt that threaten to crush him.

"Daryl, Alice is a survivor. She's smart and resourceful," Beth repeats words she has heard her father say, speaking as if she is sure of it. "We'll find her, Daryl. Together. We'll search every inch of this place until we find her, I promise."

Daryl looks back at the fence gate, eyeing the opening someone had cut into it, now slightly pushed closed. That could be her and Jamie. He must hope she made it out, that she is safe somewhere out there. He can't give up, not now. He has to keep searching, keep fighting, even if it means risking everything.

With a nod, he slowly approaches the walker that is still growling at him, Charles. With sorrow in his heart, he lifts his knife, the blade flickering in the light.

"Stay strong, buddy," Jamie says reassuringly, "You're almost there. Just a little further." Merle lets out a groan, his eyes half-closed as he leans heavily against Jamie's shoulder, his only support as they push their way out of the woods. You, too, are exhausted, feeling the ache in your arms from all the swinging of your blood-soaked machete, caked with brain matter. Every few feet, you leave a sign for Daryl by carving his mark on the trees whenever walkers aren't blocking your way.

"Look over there, you see the barn?" Jamie points across the open field. The classic red barn sits stoically in the middle of a vast expanse, surrounded by rolling overgrown grass from years of neglect. There is not a single person in sight, dead or alive.

"Jamie, there's a herd on our tail, we need proper cover and medical supplies, or he won't make it," you say urgently as Merle gasps for air behind you.

"Trust me," Jamie replies, struggling to keep his own exhaustion at bay as he helps support Merle's weight. You are not sure what Jamie is so confident about, but you are too tired to argue, so you push through the grass.

As you approach, you notice a small cabin-style home connected to the barn by a dirt path. Its modest appearance stands in stark contrast to the grandeur of the barn. You wonder if this is where Jamie had hoped to take you, but you know it wouldn't hold against a large horde of walkers.

Jamie guides you to the barn instead and carefully lowers Merle to the ground. You rush to the older Dixon, whose eyes are open but unseeing, likely due to blood loss. Ignoring Jamie, you peel back Merle's shirt to inspect the wound, pulling him close as you let out a relieved breath upon seeing the exit wound. He is far from out of danger, but you know it could have been much worse if the bullet had not exited.

"Here," Jamie says, holding out a shovel. "I need you to dig." Confused, you stare at him, and he points at a dirt grave with a wooden cross at the head of it.

Flabbergasted, you take the shovel, wondering if Jamie has hit his head. The soldier doesn't wait for you; he slides his arms underneath the older Dixon and carries him up. You move to support Merle, shovel in one hand and his arm in the other, and you all move into the barn, only to stop dead at the sight of something strange.

The interior of the barn is dimly lit, with only a few cracks in the wooden walls and roof providing any light. "What the... Jamie, what the hell is going on?" you whisper, unable to take your eyes off the old vehicle with solar panels on the roof, a vehicle you know all too well. "The RV... I thought Charles said it burnt down."

"No, it didn't," Jamie says while still supporting Merle. He slides his hand behind the tire rim and pulls out a key, opening the door. Still in shock, you watch Jamie disappear with Merle inside, only to return a few seconds later. "We took the battery out so it doesn't get stolen, and we hid it here, like we did with the Jeep in Fort Benning," he says, standing on the step. His eyes hold despair, a complete opposite of his usual happy-go-lucky personality.

"But why?" you ask, remembering just how well-prepared Charles was with a car, food, and weapons, ready weeks before the military base fell.

"You know how he is, always paranoid as fuck, but he saved our lives over and over again," Jamie's eyes fill with unshed tears. "I've never even said 'thank you' to him, you know," Jamie says, clearing his throat and putting on his bravado act, which you can easily see through.

"I need you to dig while I get the RV running," he says, looking away from you. "You've got one last gift from Charles waiting for you." You realize you're not the only one who lost someone; Jamie lost his friend and mentor too.

With a nod, you back away from him. You're not in a place to comfort him right now, not when you barely feel like you're holding yourself together. Your hands shake as you go back to the graveyard, where the dirt is piled up as if it had been recently dug. At first glance, it looks like a burial ground, and as you shove the shovel in the dirt with force, you wonder what he had buried in disguise. As your muscles ache, it dawns on you that you have never done a physical labor while Charles was around. He never let you. As the shovel hits the dirt, so does your tears. You swallow the sound of your cries and silently weep.

And then there's Daryl, who consumes your thoughts every second. Your body is full of emotions, to the point where you can't process them properly. Pain, despair, worry, but more than anything, your whole being is waiting, with a tightness in your body that feels crippling. It's the same feeling you had experienced not even 24 hours ago when he was deep in the city looking for antibiotics for the sick.

Is this how it's going to be from here on out, constantly worrying if you're going to see him, constantly waiting if he's going to come back to you safe? Why didn't you stay with him? You should have stayed. You could shoot, you could have fought with him, you could have had his back. Why did you let him go?

Eyes blurry with tears, you look up toward the dense woods you had just escaped from. The trees tower high above, casting dappled shadows on the ground below, and your heart thumps eagerly, waiting for Daryl to show his face any minute now.

Your attention is brought back to the dirt when the shovel hits something hard. You toss the shovel aside and use your hands to pull the dirt away. There, you find a large military duffle bag, the dark color blending in with the dirt. As you pull, you realize the weight is unmovable, so you kneel right in the dirt and pull the zipper.

"Oh, Charles," you whisper when the first thing that comes into sight is your military-standard wallet, the one that holds all your credentials, clearance, and NIH Restricted Area Badge. It's always with him for safekeeping, chastising you about how you leave it everywhere, how it's your only means to D.C., to whatever military base is left.

As you dig deeper into the bag, you come face to face with stacks of medical supplies: medical gauze, pain meds, creams, antibiotics, insulin, inhalers and so on. You just stare wide-eyed, wondering where all of it came from. "Charles is the one who stole your antibiotics and pain meds," Jamie's voice behind you makes you jump, and you wipe your eyes quickly with the back of your hand. "There's another duffle bag underneath that one with shitload of canned food."

"Where did all this come from?" you ask, knowing that Daryl has been sweeping all the local area and there should be nothing like this left.

"That military camp by the supermarket where Beth's boyfriend, Zack died. It was full of walkers when we first found it. I went with Glenn and Sasha to set up speakers to draw the walkers out," he says, lowering himself into the hole. "I told Charles about it, and the next day, we hit it first, cleaned out the medical supplies from the medical tents, and took as much of the provisions we could carry from the store and buried it out here for our trip."

"Why didn't he tell me?" you ask, wondering when Charles started keeping things from you. He always ran everything by you, asking for your opinion.

"He... Ah," Jamie rubs the back of his neck, looking at you guiltily. "He said that when Daryl is around, you can't see straight... or something along those lines. But I don't think he meant anything by it. After all, he praised you while he dug this. He said this was your idea with the governor: bury and carry our supplies." His tone tries to brush off what he said into something positive. In that moment, you're reminded of the last conversation you had with Charles, when he asked you to leave, and you had rejected his request.

"Come on, Merle is barely hanging on, so let's get you and these supplies out of here," Jamie says, pulling the duffle bag with a jerking force, lifting it out of the hole.

Yes, Merle is waiting for you.

With a nod, you focus on the task at hand and shut everything else off – shut off thoughts of Daryl, Charles, the prison, Rick, and his group. Shut it off like you did when you were in Iraq, in the middle of a warzone.

The weight of it all feels too much to bear, but for now, you'll push it all aside and focus on the task at hand – getting Merle and the supplies out of there.

"Is it Merle?" Beth's voice breaks through Daryl's thoughts, but he can barely register her words. His senses are overwhelmed by a surge of energy coursing through his veins, as if a burst of adrenaline has been injected into his bloodstream. The hope that has ignited within him is like a fire, spreading throughout his body and warming him from the inside out.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Daryl leans his head against the trunk and lets out a sigh of relief, purging all the pent-up anxiety and despair he has been carrying inside him. Tracing his fingers over the rough bark, he lets out a chuckle, barely able to contain his emotions, while tears well up in his eyes.

"Nah, it ain't Merle," he finally replies, his voice filled with disbelief. "It's Alie. You were right; she's alive and out here."

"How do you know?" Beth asks, stepping closer to look at the mark on the tree, her eagerness evident.

"Merle and I have a different trackin' mark when we hunt. I only use this one when Ah'm by myself." Daryl explains. This particular sign is something he uses when he visits areas he often goes with his brother. By having a mark of his own, he can differentiate old markings left by himself and his brother. He shakes his head, forgetting how clever Alie can be sometimes, how she remembers such a small detail is beyond him.

Crouching down, Daryl begins investigating the footsteps left in the dirt. "She ain't alone," he says, pointing at the larger footprints, and Beth squats down next to him. "But she's hurt, or someone with her is hurt," he adds, pointing to the drops of blood on the ground.

Dipping his finger into the wetness, he smears it on his hand. From years of hunting, he can tell that the blood hasn't settled for too long. It couldn't have been more than an hour or two since they were last there.

A giggle breaks his attention, and when he looks over, he sees that Beth is covered in dirt with twigs in her hair. Her arms and face are covered in small scratches from all the bushes they have gone through. However, despite her disheveled appearance, her blue eyes are bright, and she smiles at him happily before marching in front of him as if she is going to war.

"See, I told you she would. Come on," she says, looking over her shoulder at him. "It couldn't have been too long; we can catch up to her."

Daryl nods, getting to his feet, and lets Beth's infectious optimism and the hope he feels be the lantern that burns brightly, pushing him forward through the wilderness.

Despite Beth's determined look, Daryl can sense the disappointment she is trying to conceal. Exhausted as they are, they press on, but Alie's trail has gone cold. The clue she left them had led them out of the woods, and Daryl recalls how he had instinctively sprinted towards the barn in the middle of the field, his heart racing in his chest. But all hope has fizzled out along with Beth's smile when they discovered it empty. He has scoured the area for any shred of evidence, anything at all, but only a few droplets of blood and tire tracks leading away from the scene remain.

Outside, they come across an open grave that seems to taunt him. It appears as though someone has dug a hole but never buried anything in it, creating an eerie presence that echoes through the air. As if that open grave signifies the end of it all - the end of her trail, the end of the prison, and the end of many more.

Now, Daryl continues walking on the paved road, fully aware that finding Alie has become a thousand times harder. He knows that once a car gets on the road, it is almost impossible to track, not just because of its speed, but also because it doesn't leave any marks on paved roads. But it doesn't matter - what matters is that she is alive and out there, and he will find her.

His mind is filled with a million different scenarios. He imagines the dangers that Alie might have faced, the risks she might have taken to survive. He has seen and stepped over countless dead walkers in the woods leading to the barn. He knows she has fought her way out.

Daryl's thoughts are interrupted by a frustrated noise emanating from Beth. He glances over to find her forehead creased in annoyance as they approach a crossroads with two divergent paths - the option to go left or right.

"They could have gone either way," Daryl murmurs, surveying the area for any indication of Alie's whereabouts, any marker she might have left behind.

"What about there?" Beth asks, stepping towards a sign hanging from a tree on the side of the road. Daryl hums in thought as he walks over to examine the sign. Beth's face lights up with excitement as she looks at the map attached below it, giving them a sense of direction.

"Terminus: those who arrive, survive," the message echoes in Daryl's mind as he and Beth ponder their next move. "I think we should head towards Terminus," Beth suggests hopefully. "If she's hurt, or if someone with her is hurt, she would want medical supplies."

Daryl is torn - a part of him says that Alie would stay close enough for him to track her, but Beth is also right. Terminus could have an infirmary and medical supplies, making it their best option. With a deep breath, he turns left, fighting the uncertainty that tries to consume him. He steels himself for the road ahead and clings to the knowledge that Alie is still out there and fighting, waiting for him.

As you close the door to the house behind you, the cool air greets you with silence, leaving Jamie to sleep soundly in a pile of blankets on the floor. Merle has fallen into what you hope is a temporary coma, though it's hard to diagnose without a proper scan. You suspect it's due to the loss of blood. Besides the glucose IV connected to his vein, which is pushing in pain meds and antibiotics, there is nothing else you can do for him.

You had decided to leave the barn after patching him up. The fact that there was a herd nearby didn't settle well with you. But you are lucky in many senses - lucky that they never made it out of the woods, not that you are going to wait and test it. You are also lucky that Charles had left you with all the supplies you needed to patch Merle up, just as you had promised him.

As you walk through the town with no particular destination in mind, the full moon casts an eerie glow over the ruins of Woodbury. You remember the scenic ghost town you had once visited with Merle, now lying in shambles. Someone had set it on fire, burning it to a crisp. The towering walls that had once protected survivors from the hordes of the undead have been reduced to rubble, with only a few crumbled sections still standing.

You were shocked when you pulled the RV up to where the gate had once been. The air was thick with the stench of death and decay, and you wonder if the fire had attracted the dead and they had walked into it, burning to a crisp as well. Cussing about the wasted gas, you slowly circled the town's roundabout and center, maneuvering the RV to leave. But then, you caught sight of a small house tucked away in the corner of the town. It was slightly burnt, but the fire hadn't fully caught up to it, leaving the water supply and pipes undamaged. Now, that little house is your temporary shelter.

As your feet carry you to the spot where the Governor's mansion once stood, you let out a heavy sigh and climb the pile of ash and rubble to sit on top. From there, you watch the full moon, lonely yet bright, casting a hauntingly beautiful light over the ruins of Woodbury. It is then that all the emotions you have been holding back come crashing down on you. Everything that has happened in the last few days hits you all at once, and you can't hold back the tears any longer. They flow freely down your face like a flood, and you can taste their saltiness as they soak your chin and mouth.

The sight of the ruins of Woodbury seems to reflect your own feelings of devastation and loss. The pain of losing Charles, your companion in this world of the walking dead, is almost too much to bear. It is a pain that seems to grip you from the inside, tearing your heart to pieces with its overwhelming intensity.

Your thoughts turn to Daryl, and you wonder if he is safe, if he is even still alive. The darkness within you whispers that he is dead, and that you are grasping at straws. But you have to hope - what else do you have left but hope? However, the worry you feel only adds to the already unbearable weight of grief. You weep out loud, your wailing echoing in the vast emptiness of the dead town.

Through your tears, you notice a walker's hand gasping at the air, reaching for you from buried beneath the rubble far away from where you sat. It is almost like a symbol of your own fear and vulnerability. You are not alone in your struggles; the dead are there with you.