A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to read this story and left encouragement in the comments. I'm sorry for the long stretch between chapters - blame can easily fall on my toddler or my chronic migraines, but I'm also ridiculously fiddly and it takes me forever and a day to feel satisfied with my writing. Regardless of all that, I hope this new chapter is worth the wait. Thank you for reading!

Some dialogue is pulled directly from TWD Episode 1 - Days Gone Bye

"What the hell?"

Rick's shaky voice cut through the static roaring in Beth's ears, his words echoing around the empty space inside her head. Her brain wasn't working and everything she'd seen since waking up made no sense, so of course his words were free to grow and twist and fucking flourish inside the empty hollow of her shattered skull until they were the only thing left that felt real.

What the hell what the hell whatthehellwhatthehellhellhell.

"What the hell?" Rick repeated; this time his voice was softer, his desolation clear as a bell. Each word was a realization of his pain, every pause was tinged with panic.

Holy Mary, Mother of God.

This was worse, so much worse than all the awful things Beth saw while researching that project last year. The warzones, the genocide, every pandemic and POW camp and orphaned child sitting shellshocked and traumatized in the bombed-out remnants of everything they knew – none of them held a candle to what she was seeing now.

It didn't make sense.

What happened to the world around her while she was lying still and oblivious and empty in that hospital bed?

God in heaven, what happened?

They'd stumbled through the creaking heavy door at the bottom of the staircase and Beth's eyes focused on something she'd never seen before – not like this. She'd glanced down instinctively when the harsh Georgia sunlight washed over her face, blinking rapidly to ease the painful glare that burned her sensitive eyes. Her gaze landed on a pale swollen foot resting mere inches from her own bare toes. She thought it couldn't be real – it must not be real. It had to be a hallucination – something created by her malfunctioning psyche, because it couldn't be what it appeared to be. It just didn't make sense.

Rick coughed, a rough gagging sound that caused Beth to look up without thinking. Her eyes jumped away from the foot, forcing her to take in everything that was laid out in front of her. And God help her, because it had to be real; she couldn't conjure up what she was seeing, not even in the darkest, ugliest parts of her mind.

There was no respite, nowhere to hide from this reality; there was nothing innocuous for her sensitive eyes to focus on. There was only more.

Vicious, sharp bile tore up the sides of her throat, threatening to choke her as her gaze bounced between every awful thing. She saw bloody head wounds and stained white sheets. There were decaying feet and clumps of matted hair and fat tongues protruding from open mouths. She couldn't look away from the scores of sightless milky eyes. There were so many dead people, it was incomprehensible. They were everywhere… maybe hundreds of bodies lined up, filling the entire parking lot. A pallet truck was stacked high with even more bodies wrapped in sheets, a few of them half-hanging off the edge of the truck, as if those tasked with unloading the dead had fled mid-task.

Beth began to notice an odd buzzing noise as she and Rick stood frozen at the base of the dirty stairs. The low sound rose and fell around them, its familiarity teasing her senses even if she couldn't immediately place it. It was different from the constant hum of the generator on the farm or the static of a radio. The volume swirled around her as though it was alive; she could feel it shifting with each of her shallow breaths.

Beth felt a tickle on her arm, and she automatically lifted her hand to brush away whatever was there. She froze mid-movement, her eyes locked on the large black fly that busily rubbed its legs together while it rested on her arm.

The flies. It was the flies making that sound.

She remained still as the fly twitched its wings three times before taking off and rejoining the swarm it had broken off from. She followed its path and almost choked on her own tongue. Instead of seeing only individual facets of the horror in front of her, she suddenly understood how all of the horrendous pieces fit together. It wasn't just dead bodies, everyone was dead. The outdoors weren't actually quiet, because the utter dearth of flies created a wall of sound that settled around her ankles. The flies had found the dead, and their buzzing was all she could hear. The bodies were rotting at her feet, and the indescribable scent of death was all she could smell. It was eerie and overwhelming; and all of a sudden, everything became real and ghastly and terrifying.

Rick abruptly pulled her forward, her legs almost buckling under the impossible weight of her fear. Beth didn't resist, letting him propel her forward through the carnage, even though every one of her steps shook with weakness.

She knew she should say something, anything really, to break the ominous hush that pressed in on them; she should thank him for pulling her out of her bed and out of that hospital, for not leaving her and promising to stay, for guiding her down those never-ending dark stairs. Even now, Rick kept his own wounded body between hers and the horrific gruesomeness that surrounded them as he ushered them past the line of bodies at their feet. She knew there was so much she could say to him, but the wild terror that was hammering against the inside of her chest had gotten itself twisted up with the fetid stench of death and burrowed deep into the cracks in her mind. It was choking her – cutting off all the things she wanted to tell him.

So instead, Beth reached down to where Rick held her around her waist and squeezed his trembling hand with her own; and for a moment following the contact, both of their shaking stilled. He said nothing, but she felt it when he gripped her fingers briefly in response before letting them fall so he could continue steering them forward. He kept moving her forward.

Don' look back, girl. Ain' nothin' left fer ya there. Keep movin'. Go on.

Daryl's voice was soft and gravely in her ear. Christ, Daryl. She missed him more than she could put into words or thoughts. Where was he in all this? Was he safe? Was he with Merle? She knew he wasn't likely to go to her family, but she offered up a prayer that maybe he was tucked away at the farm, riding out whatever this was in isolated safety.

Because he wasn't among the dead. He couldn't be dead. Not Daryl, not ever.

The lines of bodies laid out on the ground seemed endless, waiting in neat rows and stacked two or three high in some places. Most were wrapped in pale sheets, some were dressed in scrubs or dirty doctor's coats, while others were still in their street clothes, like they'd never made it through the hospital doors before they died. They were all orderly and still – waiting to be buried, waiting to be burned, waiting for a fate that Beth knew would never come, because she and Rick were all that was left. The two of them and their own broken bodies were never going to be able to lay these people to rest, not like they deserved. It was just another piece of the tragedy that Beth couldn't seem to find her way out of.

Beth and Rick struggled to crawl over the crest of a small hill at the edge of the overgrown parking lot, their arms tangled together and their feet slipping on the unkempt grass. Beth prayed for a miracle, for something good to be waiting for them, but all hope for rescue or reassurance was swiftly dashed.

Rick's words echoed in her ears as she struggled to process what lay in front of her. What the hell what the hell what the hell?

God above, what the hell?

The drone of the flies had faded, but the silence that remained was just as devastating.

The area looked like it was meant to be a base camp or a refugee center; it should've been a place of resources and order and answers. There were shiny helicopters and sturdy-looking humvees, canvas tents, wooden crates, and… and silence. Everything Beth saw was filled with the heavy desolation that pervaded somewhere long-abandoned, the absences pressing into all the empty spaces that should have been filled with life. There was no one left to explain what was going on or to answer her questions about her head; no one who could tell them what happened to that nurse in the hallway or to those people in the parking lot, no one left to quell her nauseating panic that arose whenever her thoughts lingered on those nightmarish fingers behind that chained-up door.

Beth and Rick were teetering alone in the middle of the deserted chaos, their unanswered questions left to die on the heels of each labored breath wrestled from their battered bodies.

When Rick started walking again, Beth realized the time had finally come to speak.

"Wh…er-re are…we…go-ing?" she asked as Rick pulled her forward.

Always forward.

Don' look back, girl.

I won't, Daryl.

"My house is a few miles away. I have to check on my family. My wife, my son – I need to know they're alright." Rick turned his head a little to look down at her face. "How far are your people?"

He wanted to walk miles. Merciful God in Heaven. Miles. Could they really walk miles like this?

And Jesus Lord, she didn't even know where she was now, let alone how impossibly fucking far away they were from the farm, or how she was supposed to drag her useless body to get anywhere near them.

"Dun-no," she bit out, clenching her teeth to swallow back the scream that was trying to claw its way out. "Li-ve on…a fa….rrm…in Se-no-ia. Wa-ay out…side…tow-n." She gulped down what little saliva she'd managed to produce since her cups of water in the hospital room. "Du-no wh…ere w-we…are."

Rick grunted in acknowledgement, his mouth turned down in a grimace as he clutched at his bandaged side. "I think I know the area you're talking about, but it's not close, Beth," he said, tightening his grip on her wrist, hoisting her arm to rest more fully over his shoulders. "I won't leave you, and I promise we'll get you home. But I think it's best to try for my house first. We can get some real clothes, and if my wife is there, maybe we can get some answers. Then we'll get you to your family, I swear."

She wanted to go home; with each new horrible revelation, Beth's yearning to get home only became more frantic. She craved the comfort of her mama's arms and her daddy's quiet confidence. All she wanted was to hear Shawn's voice and feel Maggie's fingers running through her hair. Maybe Daryl would even be there; he'd wrap her up in his arms and keep her safe no matter what. Getting back to the farm would be everything…. But Rick was right. It would be foolish to strike out towards her home, miles and miles further away than his own, when the two of them could barely walk and had nothing to eat or drink.

It was the smarter choice, if not the more painful one.

Gotta be smart now, Bethy. Her sister's fervent whisper brushed against her ear. Don't let your feelings make you weak. Get home, but don't die along the way just 'cuz you weren't usin' your head.

My head is broken, Mags. I wouldn't expect too much from it.

Even when she wasn't there, Beth could swear she heard Maggie snort. Shut up, it ain't funny. Don't die, little sister.

"O-kay," she agreed after a few moments. "You…r hou-se, th-en-n mi…ne."

"Alright then," Rick nodded. "Let's go."

Forward. Forward. Always forward.

She hoped Rick's wife had some answers, and a car for that matter, because the longer they walked, the more clear it became to Beth that she would never be able to get home on foot – not like this and nowhere near as fast as she'd prefer. Her legs were wobbly and coltish and the crumbling bits of sidewalk scraped against the soft undersides of her feet. Her balance was a tragic joke, her toes catching on broken bits of asphalt with every awkward step.

But Rick's body was strong; he held her up as they staggered down the street and he caught her when she stumbled.

Beth's body radiated with god-awful pain; every passing second revealed some new fresh hell her body was forced to endure. The muscles in her legs had gone from agonized to weak to numb and she'd somehow circled back to face the same relentless, bone-deep stabbing ache she'd felt when she first stood up from the hospital bed. She'd wanted to yell at God and bawl into Rick's shoulder when she'd gone from feeling like she was walking on bits of glass to feeling like she was dragging her whole body through an endless sparkling field of it.

How gosh darn long has she been in that hospital bed? Each moment that passed made it horrifying clear that her body was no longer the one she'd always known. Nothing was easy, no action came naturally. How many days and weeks and months had it taken for her body to wither away until she'd transformed into this stranger's husk?

Since waking up, Beth hadn't had any control over how her body functioned, so it didn't seem too strange when she realized that her body itself didn't feel like hers. How long had it taken for all traces of her former self to drift away?

How long did it take to snuff out the world? How long did it take for humanity to go extinct?

It felt like the blink of an eye. It felt like an eternity.

Beth wanted to beg Rick to stop so she could rest, but she didn't. She knew he wouldn't hesitate, but she couldn't ask that of him – he needed to get to his family. They were within reach of his people, miles and eons closer than they were to hers. She understood his desperate drive to keep dragging them forward, always forward. Of course she did; lord, if she knew she could reach Daryl or Maggie or her daddy, she'd be flailing her way down the road like her behind was on fire.

She knew Rick wouldn't leave her – she believed him when he promised that they'd stick together; promises were sacred in the Greene household, and Beth felt compelled to honor that even in her current, less-than-ideal circumstances. But even so, she couldn't risk being wrong about this. If they stopped to rest, what if she couldn't get back up? If she couldn't force herself to keep moving forward…. Rick could leave her there, helpless and useless on the sidewalk, waiting in vain for someone else to come along and carry her scrawny self all the way back home to Senoia.

With how empty the world seemed right now, the likelihood of that happening was probably pretty low.

So she tried to ignore the crackling tenderness in her throat and the burning embers that twisted and curled like flaming vines across the jagged bones of her skull. She let her gaze drift without focusing on any details. She counted her breaths and practiced making a fist with the loose hand at her side.

Forward, forward. Always forward.

When the empty houses along the street suddenly fell away and were replaced by artificially spaced trees, Beth tried to tamp down the surge of relief that rose in her.

A park.

Thank the Lord and anyone else listening.

She felt her breath hitch in her chest when the ground softened beneath her sore feet. The patchy grass felt like the softest of her Mama's quilts, with every wobbly step across its green surface a blessing to be savored.

Beth glimpsed a wooden bench a dozen feet ahead of them, and her heart soared with pathetic whimpering relief. It was a beacon, an oasis – someplace to rest her shaking fragile limbs for just one fucking second. Please Rick please, just one second, I'll do anything. God, anything –

She must have made a noise that betrayed her desperate thoughts, because Rick stopped so unexpectedly, her body jerked forward in his grip.

"Let's stop for a minute," he said, lifting her arm from his shoulders.

"We don-n't…got-ta – " she tried to protest. She refused to be more of a burden than she already was; she couldn't afford to be.

"It's alright, Beth. Just for a minute." Rick lowered her to the bench as he spoke. "I could use a break anyways." He offered her a small smile that wasn't fooling either of them. This break was for her and her alone, and if he'd been on his own, he'd be nothing but a shape in the distance by now.

Beth probably should have fought him harder on it, but resting just for a minute felt too spectacular. She rubbed her bare feet through the silky blades of grass and relished the stillness of her weakened limbs against the hard planks of the bench.

She knew what her body was previously capable of – she'd spent her entire life doing the physical labor required to keep the farm running. There had never been any doubt of her body meeting the challenges set before her. She'd worked hard every day since childhood, even taking on additional chores when her siblings went off to college. Her parents never shied away from assigning her more responsibilities, and she had grown stronger and more confident in turn. Beth has always been small of stature, but she was a force of output and productivity.

Unfortunately that body was not this body, and rest felt good to Beth.

"I'm sorry." Rick was observing her shrewdly and she wasn't sure she cared for it all that much.

She tilted her head in question, reluctant to try and pull the words from her bruised throat.

"For pushin' you. I'm so worried…." Rick winced as he spoke, and Beth felt an echo of fear for her own family. "I got stuck in my head and all I've been thinkin' about is getting home. I shouldn't be forcin' you to walk so much."

Beth shook her head and regretted it immediately as a hammering ache spiralled down her neck and spread across her shoulders like a shawl. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes to brace against the pain. "N-n-no. I…wa-nt…t'ge-t-t…the-re t-t-too."

"Beth, you're obviously hurtin'. We can rest a while, I don't mind." He held his hands up like he was surrendering. It really would be a surrender too, if they stayed in one place for too long. He'd be giving up too much for her sake, and she couldn't let that happen. She wouldn't let Rick resent her for delaying them, because there was no time to lose. Not in the face of whatever had happened to the world.

"'M…fi-ine," she argued.

"I know, but Beth c'mon-"

"L-l-l-et's…go," she interrupted him. "You-re…slow…in' me…dow-n."

Rick huffed a quiet laugh and shook his head. "Yes ma'am."

Beth looked down at her hands as she set them on either side of her hips, preparing to push herself upwards. She hoped her studied lack of eye contact would convey a sense of nonchalance when she casually added, "M-m-may-b-be… jus-t wa-lk sl-ow…er. Pl-lea-se."

She knew she didn't succeed when Rick smirked at her request. "You got it." He blushed and scratched the back of his neck, glancing away with a small self-conscious smile on his face. "Sorry 'bout that."

He's a good man, Bethy, her daddy's voice murmured in her ear.

He is, she acknowledged, agreeing with her own subconscious.

Because she was already looking at him, Beth saw when his smile dropped and his expression transformed from one of gentle amusement to grim caution. She gripped the peeling slats of the bench harder, and using her hands to brace her weight, she turned to follow Rick's gaze over her shoulder.

There, only about twenty feet behind her, was a person laying in the grass. The person was facing away from Beth and Rick, their legs curled up in front of them so Beth could only see to their waist.

"Sh-ould-d…we as-k…the-m if…they-re…ok?"

"No." Rick's voice was resigned. "I don't think they're alive."

Beth knew she shouldn't be surprised anymore. Hadn't they seen enough horrors since they'd woken up to shake the feeling of disbelief right out of her? Even so, she felt a punch of guilt low in her gut. How had they not noticed the body? Was she really so unaware, so focused on her own miserable state and her swirling anxiety that she didn't even register that someone was lying dead nearby? She felt a wave of disgust at herself. That wasn't like her. She had never been so self-involved before. Was this because of the head injury? Had it changed her so irrevocably that she was unrecognizable to even herself? Who was she now?

Maybe yer different, maybe you ain't. Ya ain't ne'er been shot in the head before, girl. There ain't any rule book for this type 'a thing. Yer alright. Rick'll watch yer back. Just…keep an eye out. Stay alive, Beth.

She knew Daryl's voice wasn't really there – she did – but Daryl always told her the truth, and if he wasn't chastising her, then maybe even her own mind was trying to let her off the hook. If it meant making it through this waking nightmare, she was prepared to grab that olive branch with both useless hands.

But…why was someone lying dead in a public park, in the middle of a nice neighborhood? Where were the first responders? Where were all the other people? A deep sadness bloomed in her bones and took root. Was this person scared and alone when they died?

The same prickling awareness that told her to stay quiet while she was still in the hospital room crept up the back of her neck again. Some primal part of her brain told her to stay cautious and be aware, to look closer.

Beth squinted and leaned forward a bit, trying to discern what was setting off alarm bells in her head. The body looked like it had been there a while; what skin was visible had fallen victim to the ravages of decay and the person's hair was thin and sparse. While the scene was undeniably heartbreaking, she couldn't put her finger on what had unsettled her.

As Beth puzzled over what lay in front of her, an unexpected breeze lifted the edges of her hospital gown and pulled at the tangled ends of her hair.

Seconds later she saw….

No. No way, that couldn't be.

Beth's throat clicked as she swallowed down her denial.

"It…. I think it's moving. That person's dead, I know they're dead, but I swear I saw it…." Rick sounded like he didn't believe his own words. She didn't want to believe them either, but she saw it too.

Don't Open. Dead Inside.

Christ Almighty.

She drew in a harsh breath when a bony arm flailed out with sudden fervor, the weight of it making a soft thumping sound when it hit the ground. The person – the body – rolled itself over, and began making its way towards the two of them, its fingers pulling out tufts of grass with each lurch forward.

Beth felt like she was floating above her body, all the weight and pain and air in her lungs disappeared as she watched the obviously deceased body reach out its bony arms, one in front of the other, and pull itself forward in the grass.

She felt the earth shift beneath her feet as the body got closer; she should have fallen – she should have collapsed into Rick Grimes's arms because everything she knew to be true about the world was instantly and irrevocably altered.

Beth didn't stumble, remaining firmly present in the devastating here and now. Which meant this terrible moment was really happening, and she was left to grapple with the reality of what she was seeing and what it meant. Because what she was witnessing made no sense – Lord above, none at all. Contrary to every bit of logic she'd ever learned and all the rules of both science and God, there was no way the person in front of her wasn't long-dead.

If Beth had any lingering doubts that something catastrophic had happened to the world while she lay blissfully unaware in that hospital bed, they'd just been blown to itty-bitty pieces.

Because that person – someone who had once laughed and cried and eaten lunch and worked and probably borrowed library books; a person who may have died alone and scared under the rustling trees – that person was was now a crawling, screeching, decaying body, gnashing their teeth and reaching towards her and Rick.

Bile crawled up her throat, because that person's body ended at their waist, and they were determinedly dragging their ragged insides along behind them. Their half-body moved awkwardly forward through the same smooth grass that Beth had been so happy to feel against her toes.

As Rick pulled her up from the bench and propelled her away from this new monstrous reality, Beth wondered if the soft grass felt just as soothing on the half-body's intestines as it did against her feet.

"Is this real?" Rick asked softly. His voice was measured, but it still managed to shake Beth to her bones. "Am I here?"

They'd been silent since fleeing the park, shuffling away as quickly as they could. Beth hadn't seen anyone else after leaving that nightmare body behind, the streets remaining blessedly, hauntingly empty. The absence of life caused her both relief and confusion; the utter stillness of everything around them was beginning to set off a worried pulse under her skin. Nothing had ever been this quiet in her life. The farm had a constant level of ambient noise, even at its slowest moments. The soft sounds of animals in the fields, Daddy running some piece of equipment, Mama's windchimes on the big covered porch. Even when Maggie and Shawn were gone and it had only been Beth, she'd never felt the silence like she did now.

The world felt empty.

"I don'...kn-ow," she replied after a few moments. "If it…is a…dr-eam, I ha-ve so…me com-plai-nt-ts."

Rick choked out an uneven laugh, and glanced down at her. "That's fair. It just… feels surreal. Like I must be dreaming, or something. Like maybe if I hit myself hard enough, I'll wake up and everything will be the way I remember."

"Pl-l…lea-se don't…do th-at. You-ll…kno-ck me…ov-er t-too," Beth replied, tightening her arm around his shoulders. Just in case.

"I won't," he told her, the corners of his mouth lifting with his reassurance. "At least not yet. I promise I'll set you down before I try anything drastic."

"Go-od," Beth huffed, smirking back up at him. "F-fee-ls li-ke we-ve…bee…n le-ft…be-hi-nd. Ha-rd t' kn…ow if it's…re-al, b-b-but I don-t…thi…nk I ha-ve e-nough…im-ag-in-a-tion t' ma-k-ke this-s up." It was probably the most she'd managed to say since waking up, and it took fucking forever to get all her words out, but Rick let her finish her thought without interrupting.

He's a good man. Like Daddy, or Daryl.

"Me neither," Rick agreed.

He exhaled loudly when they turned a corner onto a nondescript residential road. "This is my street. Here. C'mon, let's see if we can get some answers."

Don't get left.

Rick surged forward and Beth struggled to keep pace with him, even with her arm slung around his shoulders. She felt her toes catch on the loose concrete, and if it wouldn't've taken so much effort, she likely would have given into the urge to curse Rick soundly. And the sidewalk. And her stupid feet. She'd cover all her bases for cursing if only she had the energy to speak the words.

They came to a stop in front of a white house with a nice front porch and a slightly overgrown front yard. Beth felt herself wilt against Rick's side when she noticed the empty driveway and the open front door. The house looked abandoned, just like the rest of the deserted world they'd staggered through to find Rick's people.

Rick's grip loosened all of a sudden, causing Beth to squeak when she lost her footing from the momentary imbalance. "Sorry," he muttered, and tightened his grip on her.

Beth warily eyed the two sets of stone stairs that led up from the street. She could feel Rick practically vibrating with the desire to tear away from her and call out for his family. She was aware she was holding him back. She knew it and she hated it, but she didn't want to be left outside all on her own. Not if what else was out there was anything like what they'd seen in the park. Not today, no way.

Thankfully, Rick seemed to be of the same mind. He maneuvered her to the side of the stairs and pulled her up the small grassy incline. Beth thought she might be able to figure out how to navigate the stairs if given the chance, but she didn't want to make Rick stay with her while she explored the limitations of her motor skills. She slid her arm from his shoulders and tipped her head towards the front door.

"I'll-l-l…sit he-re. You…go," she told him, putting on the bravest face she could muster.

He nodded gratefully, but rather than taking off right away, he grabbed her hands and braced his body so she could lower herself to perch on the bottom porch step.

He's a good man. Maybe even a great one.

"Holler for me if you see anyone." He paused. "Or anything. I mean it, Beth."

She nodded her agreement, even as she contemplated how in the world she was meant to yell in the first place. She could barely string a sentence together. Maybe she could throw something? She glanced around, but didn't see anything that'd make enough of a racket to draw Rick back to her side if she were in trouble. She'd just have to practice crossing her fingers and mouthing her prayers, hopeful that her neglected vocal chords were up to the task.

"Lori! Carl!" Rick's voice rang throughout the house at her back. If the world felt deserted, this house felt haunted. With each subsequent call for Rick's family and none of them answered, Beth's gut curdled with the hard realization that no one was here.

Why would they leave their home? Why would they leave Rick? Had the same thing happened at the farm? Was her home abandoned too? Was the front door swinging on its hinges to welcome the ghosts? Were Mama's wind chimes tinkling for no one now? Were the barn doors left open as her parents ran away from all they'd once held dear?

Rick came stumbling out, his eyes red-rimmed and glassy, his lips trembling. Beth knew that in another life she'd feel compelled to let him grieve privately, but she couldn't – God, not now. This man had refused to look away from her pain all day, so she wouldn't turn away from his.

"They g-g-one?"

He nodded and cleared his throat. He wasn't meeting her eyes. "It looks like they were packing, but no one's there." Rick swallowed and seemed to choke on the emptiness in this throat. The sound he made sparked Beth's awareness of how dry her own mouth had become. "This can't be real." he gasped, his voice filled with anguish and despair. "It can't be real. It can't. Please Beth, just…. God, just tell me it isn't real."

Beth wished she had the power to take it all away, to make it all not real. If she did, she'd also have a few requests of her own, to be sure. Daddy always told her not to be ungrateful, but she thought maybe current circumstances being what they were, even he could make an exception.

Rick's brokenness made her chest ache. From the moment Beth woke up, Rick had been the steady one. He kept her hopeful with his assuredness and his plans. Where would she be, if he hadn't carried her forward?

Keep movin', sweetheart. Don't look back.

But Daryl wasn't really there, and Rick was.

Rick's eyes met hers briefly before skittering away again. The ache in her chest twinged with panic, because if Rick fell apart, what would happen to her? Without his plans…. If they couldn't find Rick's family, then they didn't have answers. Beth's mind spun, because Rick's family was supposed to be the easy one to find. Hers were too far away, and she was so broken, that even the thought of trying to find them on her own made her want to curl up and weep.

And Daryl. God, Daryl. If he wasn't at the farm, how would she ever find him?

Everything suddenly felt too big; she was struck with the feeling that maybe she'd drown in the vastness of how utterly overwhelming it all was.

Beth sucked in a harsh breath that could have preceded a scream, but she pressed her lips together until her eyes watered. She wouldn't let herself panic, no matter how tempting it was to give into hysterics. She couldn't afford to fall apart; neither of them could.

Don't get left. Don't look back.

Rick stared helplessly out at the street, seemingly seeing nothing as he fought back tears. His gaze eventually drifted past her and focused on something down the road. He cleared his throat again. "Someone's coming."

He lifted his hand as Beth turned to see who was there. A man in a tattered black suit was weaving towards them. The heat coming off the pavement made his features blurry, but something about the way he moved sent a shiver down Beth's spine.

Somethin' ain't right. Watch yer back, Greene.

Just as she was about to repeat Daryl's warning out loud, a loud metallic smack rang out next to her ear. She turned too quickly and lost her balance, falling backwards on the stairs and scraping her shoulders against the concrete. She lifted her arms automatically, bringing them up to block her face as someone yelled, "Daddy! Daddy!"

Pain radiated throughout her entire body in scorching waves, burning her frayed nerves and stoking her fear as she took in Rick's compromised form. He was laid out on the ground before her, his fading voice repeating the name Carl over and over. His eyes were locked on the shovel-wielding young boy who hovered above them. "I found you," Rick whispered just before letting his head fall against the ground with a loud thud.

"Daddy, I got this sonofabitch," the boy spoke over both of them. "I'm going to smack him dead. Her too!"

Beth turned her head just in time to see a man stride up to the shambling figure in black still making its way towards them in the road, and shoot him point-blank in the head.

Beth was surprised to learn that she could, in fact, scream. A broken, shocked sound tore from her throat as the man abruptly changed direction and leapt up the steps she'd been so focused on avoiding just a few minutes ago. He swung his gun up and pointed it right at the center of her forehead.

Sweet Jesus, no please no.

The man loomed over her and cocked the gun. Beth couldn't remember the last time she'd had a gun pointed at her face, had no idea what it felt like to have her head torn open by a bullet; but she bore the scars, and if the terror she felt then was anything like what she was experiencing now, she was beyond thankful for the wide gap in her memory.

Lord, please don't let me die after everything. I don't want to die alone.

Christ, was it like this the first time? Had she been this scared, right before a bullet was fired into her brain? No one deserves this kind of end.

The man looked directly into her eyes and didn't blink. A whimper escaped her unbidden, and Beth prayed that God would allow her to keep hearing the voices of her loved ones after this man pulled the trigger and took her life.

"You bit?" he asked.

The suddenness of his question startled her. Beth gaped stupidly at him, his words not making sense. "W-wh-at?" was the only word she could force out.

"Are. You. Bit?" he repeated. His voice was as level as his gun.

"B-B-it-t?" What? "N-no," she said, shaking her head a little bit to emphasize her answer.

The man pivoted, his eyes darting quickly between Rick, Beth, and the young shovel-swinging boy as he lowered the gun. "He say something?" he asked the boy. "I thought I heard him say something."

"He called me 'Carl'," the boy replied quickly, his words tripping over the spaces between his harsh breaths.

"Son, you know they don't talk," the man admonished him. He leaned over Rick. "Hey mister, what's that bandage for?"

"What?" Rick mumbled, lifting his head up from the concrete. His voice was bleary and his gaze rolled worryingly, unable to focus on any one thing.

"What kind of wound?" the man demanded, his tone suddenly harsher than it was moments before. "You answer me, damn you. What's your wound? You tell me," he exhaled roughly, and lifted the gun once again. He pointed it between Rick's eyes. "Or I will kill you."

Beth saw Rick's eyes catch on the gun, but rather than answering the man's questions, Rick's head dropped like the tendons in his neck had been cut. The man took a step towards him and Beth tried to yell again, desperate to pull his focus away from Rick's defenseless body. But the sound was garbled and useless, so she threw her weight forwards instead, hoping to reach Rick's side and protect him somehow. She fell short, groaning as her limbs tangled and she tumbled down the stone steps. Her sudden movements were fortunately enough, catching the man's attention so his eyes moved to her even as he kept the gun trained on Rick.

"What's his wound?" he asked her.

"Sh…sh-ot. He wa-s…sh-h…ot," Beth told him as quickly as she could.

"Why are you talking like that?" the boy asked her.

The man's gaze flicked over to the boy before returning to Beth. A flash of embarrassment surged through her, causing her to squirm with discomfort. He raised his eyebrows when she didn't respond right away.

"W-as sh…ot t-t-too," she answered truthfully.

The man's eyes darted up to her head. Beth still had no idea how she looked, but it couldn't be anywhere close to good if the man's barely-suppressed wince was anything to go by.

"You weren't shot recently," the man observed, his voice carrying a hint of accusation. "Those scars aren't new."

"Don-n't…kn-ow wh…en I w-as sh-sh…ot. Hi-m ei-th…er," she said, lifting her chin towards Rick. "W-we wo-ke up…to-day – in…the hos-pit-al." She paused, taking a moment to catch her breath. "Mis…ter, I don-n't…. Wh-at…the hell is…go-ing on?"

The man's eyes widened almost comically, his fingers loosening on the gun enough that it dropped uselessly to his side.

"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit," he swore, pacing a few steps away from Beth before turning abruptly back towards her. His expression was both incredulous and devastated. "You don't know?"

Beth's stomach dropped to her feet. "Kn-ow wh-at-t?"

The man's expression settled into a pained grimace. "You're sure?" he asked her. "You're sure neither of you were bit?"

She nodded vigorously, flinching at the intense pain that accompanied the movement. "'M su-re," she told him earnestly. Beth was desperate for this man to believe their story, for him to spare their lives and maybe even give them some insight into what was going on. "Un…less-s-s so-me…thi-ng hap-pen…ed be-fore I woke up-p, we…ain…n't be-en bit…by any-thi…ng. We-ve be…en to-ge-ther for ho…urs now-w."

The man swiped roughly at his mouth. "You haven't been bit then. Sickness would have set in by now." He looked at his son, his eyes fierce and weighted as the seconds ticked by. The man grunted softly, coming to some sort of decision within himself as he swung his attention back to Beth. "C'mon then. We'll get you off the street. See what needs doing."

Beth glanced down at Rick's prone body. His hospital gown was spread out around him, drawing attention to how thin he was. His helplessness struck Beth like a slow-crushing force. Like this, Rick was vulnerable; and in turn, so was she. There had been no one besides Rick since she'd woken up to this new life, and she'd been exceedingly lucky that he cared enough to stand by her.

Without Rick, Beth was totally alone…. Except now, there was this new man and his son. It was clear they were dangerous; they'd already proven that when the boy bludgeoned Rick and the man shot that other man without a second's hesitation. Dread continued to radiate through her muscles, reminding her of the lingering fear she felt when the man had his gun pointed at her head.

Don't get left.

As she watched the man watching her, Beth was struck with the thought that she could flee. She could leave Rick behind and take her chances on her own. If things were different – if she wasn't so shattered, if she didn't owe Rick, if she had any clue… well, she might have done it. She was consumed with that familiar feral urge from before – the one that rocketed up the dark hospital stairwell, grabbing hold of her terror and riding its back until it crested up against her ribs and choked her with its urgency. Push this man, it said. Make him stumble. The boy will be scared and you can grab his shovel. Hit him – hit them both and run! Leave Rick and run.

The feelings were overwhelming, pounding against the inside of her skin and compelling her to lash out. She forced herself to wait, to focus on her rapid heartbeats and the scraping of the breath in her lungs. When she'd been seized with the same impossible appetite for violence in the hospital, she'd waited instead of hurting Rick. She didn't give into it, didn't push him down the stairs, and everything had been normal again after a few moments. Not wanting this dark, unfamiliar part of her to win, she chose to hold back once again, refusing to give into it without thought. The seconds she spent sweating it out felt like an eternity; the bloodlust rushed through her veins, screaming in rage as it hurled her anger and fear up against the inside of her ribcage with complete abandon.

Hit them. Hit them. Hitthem. Hitthemhitthemhitthemhitthem. HIT THEM!

Don't get left!

But Beth held back. Underneath the urge to hurt the men in front of her, she sensed a thread of calm – something faint and worn but familiar all the same. She reached for it in her mind, ran her fingertips along the frayed thread and followed where it led. She traced it as it wound past the hospital, down the dusty roads of her childhood, and across the back pastures to the farm. She stood in the largest field on her daddy's land, running her hands through the stalks of wheat and savoring the familiarity of it all. She was home and safe and whole, and she tipped her face up towards the bright noonday sun to absorb the warmth and surety that surrounded her. It permeated her skin, filling her up until she was sure she glowed with all the good things she was made of. The tattered thread led to her – back to the Beth she'd been before the gunshot. Whoever she was now – the old her was still inside her somewhere, and she could still choose to be her. She could be good.

Yer Beth fuckin' Greene. You'll always be good. Yer a lightnin' bug an' a wildfire all at once – always been a force of nature. I never stood a chance, sweetheart. This ugliness is a real thing, it's yers to tend to – but you ain't only this. Be who you wanna be, girl.

She grasped Daryl's faith in her and held on with everything she had. And like before, the rage vanished. The intrusive thoughts disappeared like they had never been there, like the scary parts of her mind suddenly stepped back, turned away from what was in front of her and ceded the fight. The two parts of her still felt separate – Beth could stand on the farm and exist in this awful wasteland, but now she felt she could be both versions of herself – they were both in her.

Was this going to be her normal now? What happened when the shadowy parts of her didn't back down? Would she eventually act out these violent urges that felt so entirely unfamiliar?

Even as the agonizing thoughts plagued her, Beth began to fear her darkness less. Now she knew she could still reach for the old parts of her. And it was enough, for now.

Taking a deep, uncomfortable breath, she finally answered the man. "H-how fa-r-r? I can…n't real-y…wal-k on-n my…ow-n-n."

He blew out a weary breath but signaled his son to come closer. "Not far. I'm Morgan, and this is my son, Duane. He'll help you."

The man moved to Rick's side and started to gather up his limp form. The boy offered Beth a shy smile as he stepped cautiously into her space. He was young, but the sure signs of adolescence made themselves known in his height and his strength. He'd knocked out Rick with a single blow, after all. Beth raised her arm when he was close enough and looped it around the boy's shoulders. She caught sight of a faint blush on his cheeks as he reached around her and awkwardly rested his hand on the slight curve of her waist.

She thought back to how quickly she trusted Rick, how easy it was to take his hand and follow him out into the unknown. Rick had taken care of her so far, but now Beth had to make this next decision for them on her own. Lord knew she didn't have many options – truly, going with these strangers or staying put and hoping Rick would wake up soon were all she could think of – but whatever came next would fall on her shoulders alone.

Come home, Bethy, her sister's voice begged her.

Stay alive, girl, Daryl urged.

She didn't know what came next, but she felt in her core that this boy wouldn't hurt her. She'd have to watch her back, have to make sure she and Rick could keep moving forward, but maybe Morgan and Duane were allies instead of enemies. Maybe she could trust them too.

She returned Duane's timid grin with one of her own. "Tha-nk y-you, Du-ane. 'M…Be-th."

"Nice to meet you ma'am," he replied kindly.

Beth scoffed lightly. "Dun-no…if 'm…a ma-am."

"Oh yes you are," the man cut in. He hefted Rick's weight so that he was slung entirely over the man's shoulder. Beth worried about his wound reopening, but hopefully Duane's father was right and it really wasn't far. "He'll do well to remember his manners, even if the world has gone to shit."

Duane looked down at the ground, his blush deepening considerably.

Beth'd been scolded by her daddy enough times to profoundly empathize with the boy. "Be-th is-s…fi-ne," she whispered to him. "'M n-not…mu-ch old-er t-than…you."

Duane's smile widened a little. She knew it was always easier to be around people closer to your own age.

"Alright, Beth. Don't worry, I'll keep you safe." He said it with all the confidence of a teenage boy, and Beth chose to believe him.

Because Duane was a good boy. Some day he'd grow up to be a good man. Maybe even a great one.

Like Daddy, like Daryl. And like Rick.