Welcome to the un-Beta'ed inner workings of my mind. I have to be honest, I have no idea where this story is going. But I can tell you it will be a slow burn. Both because of my procrastination when writing, and the fact that before Bethyl can happen I somehow have to get Daryl back from France. Rated Mature for safety.

If you're interested, here's the tumblr post I made that turned into this fic:

auroraroseane/745526135021010944/ok-heres-my-prediction

Before

She was lucky, she supposed, to be so far gone that she couldn't feel the excruciating pain throbbing throughout her body. It was movement that she registered first; a shake without rhythm coming from the ground she was sprawled on.

Sprawl, she felt, was appropriate as she couldn't quite tell where or in what condition her arms and legs were. Or if they were even still attached.

She did learn that she could in fact, still move, as she nearly jumped out of her skin when something smacked against the roof of her tomb. Her hearing had come back as well then, yet another sign that maybe she wasn't as removed as she thought.

Her coffin continued to move around and beneath her with occasional groans, both of metal and something more animalistic, filtered through her consciousness. She decided then to try to open her eyes. A mistake—clearly—as the small flutter of her eyelids seemed to awaken every scarred and screaming nerve in her body.

The pain stole the breath from her lungs and she choked on stale air. The short rise and fall of her chest that followed as her body reminded itself of its need to breathe, felt like fire with each small gasp.

A blessing really, that she wasn't capable of screeching out her pain. The dead on the other side of her enclosure would be all too happy to rip her apart and leave no scraps for the buzzards. She attempted to flutter her eyelids open again before squeezing them shut as muffled gunshots rang out from the other side of her enclosure. There were too many to count, but they seemed to go on forever before they suddenly stopped and the world went quiet again. Finally, she was able to open her eyes a sliver, just to be greeted by darkness.

If it weren't for the ringing in her ears, the only sounds she'd hear were her own shallow breaths and cautious footsteps drawing near.

All at once there was a click of metal and a bright light flashed forcing her to close her eyes once again, before blinking away tears she hadn't realized had formed. There was a shadow above her, though she could not focus enough to see more than an outline. A person, alive or dead, she couldn't tell. At least, not until they exclaimed and set her ears back to buzzing.

"She's alive!"

Now

Councilor Greene breathed calmly and steeled herself against the emotions she'd trained herself to forget as she walked towards the couple on their knees before her. She's had plenty of practice hiding who she used to be from herself over the last 10 years. Fake it until you make it. Well, she'd made it.

She'd mentioned once, how she wanted to change. So she did. And now she was hardly recognizable, even to the people she'd once considered family.

She watched as they blinked away anger first, then confusion, their eyes raking over her as they tried to reconcile what they knew and what they were seeing. Beth chose to keep her eyes focused on the woman, sure that her reaction would be the more significant one to clock.

Unsurprisingly, Michonne's glare switched from surprise back to suspicion as she spoke the name no one had bothered to use in a decade. "Be-Beth?"

This seemed to jolt her husband out of his bewilderment as his body quite literally jerked with surprise. The younger woman risked taking her eyes off of the greater threat to take in his form and expression. She'd seen him a few times since his arrival to the CRM, but only once this close. When he'd just arrived and was unconscious from his wounds, she visited the med bay and stood vigil until just before he woke. He'd already lived without her for so long–he could for the remainder of his life as well.

Although this latest scheme had Michonne written all over it, the council's interference was unavoidable. And considering who was involved, she had to be the one to deal with it.

She solidified the mask on her face before turning back to Michonne. If anyone would to be able to see the cracks in it, it would be the woman with the penetrating gaze. "Michonne, Rick," she paused for them to adjust to her voice, changed since they last saw her with barely a hint of the Southern accent she grew up with. "I hear that Stokes was not able to keep you in line as she was instructed."

The Councilor lifted her eyes briefly to the woman standing behind the pair. She was hardly to blame, considering the deviants in question, but someone had to go down for this.

"Can you explain to your wife why no one is allowed to leave the CRM, Sergeant Grimes?"

She cuts her eyes to the man noticing that he seems to still be in shock at the sight of her. To be fair, most people are, even if they didn't see her die a decade before. Shortly after joining the CRM the young woman had realized that the only reason people took her seriously was because of the multiple scars on her face. People were either scared of her or in awe of her, and she used that to her advantage. Long gone was the messy ponytail and braid, and the bright colors; now, she slicks her hair back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck to proudly display what she'd been through.

That paired along with the all-black, cut uniform of the Council, she was a sight to be seen for sure. Far from the farm girl they used to know.

Rick was still struggling when she raised her eyebrow at Stokes, who then nudged the man with her boot. He twitched back into himself for a moment with the movement but was still shocked at the sight of her. "Beth..Bethy? How?"

She let her mouth flick into a small frown, not used to being ignored any longer now that she was someone . It irritated her more than it probably should considering the circumstances. Her eyes fell back to the woman behind them, the one still under the CRM's control.

"Officer Stokes, perhaps you can answer for Sergeant Grimes?"

The good soldier spoke up without missing a beat. "To insure the CRM's continued security, Councilor. Keeping the location of the city a secret is our highest priority."

She only allowed herself to twitch one side of her mouth up in acknowledgement. Stokes was in trouble after all. "And why is that?"

The Warrant Officer's eyes briefly fell to the two between them, knowing their intelligence and not sure why her superior wanted her to spell it out for them. "Because if someone on the outside knows where we are, they are as good as a threat. They can attack us, or send others after us. Destroy everything we've built and hurt the innocent."

"Precisely," she confirmed before looking back at Rick and then Michonne with pointed looks. "Something I think we can all understand the significance of."

She watched as the pair digested the meaning and waited. She knew one of them would have something else to say, though she hoped they would before she had too long to linger on thoughts of the past. It'd been so long since she'd drug up those memories–and for a good reason.

It's Michonne who speaks up first. "Beth–Councilor," she's noticed already then, that this is not the same girl they knew, something her husband was still reconciling. "You also know how important family is." She paused, probably hoping it would have some effect. It won't. "We have to get back to our children. The rest of our family. Maggie's there. And Dar–"

She interrupts before she has to hear it. She probably could hold onto the facade she'd built if she had to hear about him . "Your family is fine. They won the war against the skinwalkers. Whisperers, they were called?" She presented smartly. Both looked up at her startled, the woman for the precise information and the man for her having any information at all. "They've joined with another community, a much larger one. The children are safe." She cannot say her name.

The pair are stunned, eyes wide and blinking, trying to process what she's said. Surprisingly, Rick recovers first this time around. "How–"

"You should know better than anyone, Rick. You have to have someone on the inside." She waits for it to sink in, as she takes a step closer and bends down to their level in order to level their eyes. "Why do you think we've left Alexandria alone all these years?"