Goosebumps rise on my skin. Although I refuse to show any sign in front of Daryl, I'm absolutely freezing. But I keep going, thankful for the pair of shoes Michonne had dug out of a few of her personal belongings before she decided to retire for the night. Through the rubber and cloth, I can still feel the dull ache from running through the hospital and on the concrete earlier in the day.

Still, it feels like weeks ago.

"Any clue where we're goin'?" Daryl questions from behind me. His voice is tight with stress and I can't tell if its from being outside in the darkness, under constant danger of walkers, or if its from being alone with me.

I come to a halt, glancing around at our surroundings. Nothing except the shadows of trees, mounds of dirt, and rocks block of vision. If I squint hard enough, I think I can make out the church. A small candle flickers away in one of the windows. "Not really," I answer, making a mental note to be sure I can see that light at all times. "I'm just kind of wandering, I guess."

We continue on, keeping our ears open and weapons at the ready. Part of me feels calmer than I have since I woke up from my coma. Back before the prison had been overrun, I looked forward to my supply runs with Daryl. Even though we often found ourselves in tight spots, I was always sure Daryl would figure out someway to keep us safe.

Somewhere far away, I hear Adeline's laughter. For a moment, it sounds as if its coming from the church. Stopping again, I strain to listen for more, but she's fallen silent. I don't hear anything but crickets chirping in the distance and a walker moaning. We'll have to take care of that later.

"What?" Daryl asks.

Not realizing that my expression had changed, or that he can even see it in the dark, I turn to face him. "Oh, its uh, its nothing." The last thing I want to do is tell him that I'm hearing my dead sister laugh. Then, an idea pops into my head; a possible way to find out if I'm really going crazy, or if this is just a side effect of losing a sibling. "Remember when we had found Merle and he had already...turned?"

"How can I forget something like that? That was the worst damn day of my life," Daryl snaps. Taking a moment to collect himself through a few deep breaths, he adds in a much softer tone, "One of the worst."

Guilt hits me hard once again. I know now that for the rest of my life, as long as Daryl is anywhere near me, I probably won't live down the fact that I tried to sacrifice myself for him. Even so, I can't help but feel a little irritated whenever its brought up. "Well," I continue, trying to brush off his comment, "did you ever feel like he wasn't really gone after we left that place?"

Choosing my words carefully turns out to be more difficult than I originally thought. Daryl shifts weight uncomfortably and we stand in silence for a few moments. I can tell he's trying to figure out exactly what I'm getting at, but damn it, the quiet between us is almost too uncomfortable to handle.

Finally, he speaks, "I guess." His voice is mellow, like he's trying to tell me a secret in a room full of people. "I had dreams 'bout 'im. Sometimes I thought I heard 'im say my name." Saying his name? I take that as a good sign, that maybe hearing your dead sibling talk to you is normal. As Daryl continues to talk, my hopes are dashed. "It went away, though, after awhile. Why are ya askin'?"

I want to tell him. I really do. I feel as though he's the only person in the entire world who isn't going to cringe away and question my sanity if I let him in, even though I'm questioning it myself. But, ultimately, I decide against it. "I just miss Adeline, is all."

"Yeah," he grumbles, turning from me in a rigid step forward. "That's the part that doesn't go away."

Daryl leads now, which is fine with me. Over fallen branches and piles of rocks and crunchy leaves, we meander through the forest, looking for and expecting absolutely nothing. I try to follow his footsteps to a tee, but his strides are much larger than mine. I end up placing a foot down between each of his. Every so often, I catch a whiff of his scent – musky and dirty, but not dirty as in body odor. More like the earth mixed with a hint of cigarette smoke. Knowing full well the outcome of my last attempt at smoking, I find myself craving a cigarette of my own.

"Are ya blamin' yourself for Beth?" This snaps me from my thoughts. Daryl keeps walking, his crossbow securely in his hands. I wait for him to look back on me, but he stares forward. "Is that why you're out here?"

At first, I can't figure out how the two subjects are related. Why would I want to wander out in the middle of the night in a forest just because I blame myself for Beth's death, which yes, as a matter of fact, I do? Then, her voice rings through my head, and it makes sense.

"Rick found him outside the gates at the prison, without any weapons, just waiting for walkers. He had to wrestle with him to get him back inside."

"Yeah," I answer, taking note of Adeline's laughter sounding off once again. This time, I know its near the church. "I just couldn't sleep, I guess. I didn't want to just sit there, either. So, here I am."

"It ain't your fault."

"How so?"

"Because it's mine."

I stop again, this time with my stomach churning. Daryl keeps going, either oblivious to the fact that he's leaving me behind or he just doesn't care that his words just threw me for a loop. "What did you just say?" I badger, raising my voice slightly so he can hear me. "It's your fault she died?"

In a way, I'd wanted someone to say it wasn't my fault. I'd just wanted to just hear it from someone else, to take a little of the load off my chest. I didn't, however, want that person to be Daryl, especially when I knew it wasn't true. How in the world could it have been his fault?

Daryl finally comes to a stop, turns to face me, and nods his head slowly. "Yeah, it is," he answers. "After the prison, we were together and...I just didn't get to her in time, when they took her." For a moment, I'm relieved that he's letting his walls down with me again, but just as I ponder on it, he's too uncomfortable to continue his thought. "C'mon, let's hurry and kill something so you can go back." He takes a step away from me.

"Just what was going on with you and Beth?" There it is. The magical question. The question that had been in the back of my mind since Beth let me know they were together. The question that only solidifies the fact that I need to learn to think before I open my mouth, because as Daryl approaches me, one foot seemingly taking minutes to fall after the other, I've never regret saying something so much in my entire life.

"The fuck are you getting at?" Daryl growls, standing only inches from me. Bowing his head to glower down at me, I can see his free hand curl into a fist at his side. I know he won't strike me, but I'm still scared shitless. "Look at me if you're gonna start accusin' me."

I lift my head, meeting his eyes, which look only like black holes in the darkness. "I just...I wanted to know what happened between you two," I manage to croak out. "Why are you so pissed right now?"

Daryl inhales to answer, but a rustle casts our conversation to the dust. In an instant, his crossbow is lifted and pointed toward the source, and my fingers curl around my fragile switchblade, ready to plunge into the skull at a moment's notice. A small-framed walker comes stumbling out toward us, only to trip over a fallen trunk and land face first into the dirt. With an annoyed sigh, Daryl drops his crossbow and motions toward the squirming creature.

"You wanted to kill somethin'," he mutters. "Now's your chance."

This isn't entirely how I wanted my killing to pan out, but beggars can't be choosers. I hurry over to the walker, kneel beside it, and force the blade through the skull just in time to avoid a grab at my ankle. With a final moan, the hand falls limp and I yank the switchblade from what's left of the brain.

Before I even have the chance to stand up, Daryl is already trudging on back toward the church. "Wait!" I call out. He stops, but doesn't turn to face me. "Just a little longer? I want to kill a few more."

"Nah," he replies, starting off once more. "You wanna stay out here? Fine. You're on your own."

I watch his shadow begin to disappear into the trees, trying my hardest to fend off the swirling regret and irritation in my gut. Without thinking – what's new at this point? – I hustle after him, slowing down only once I've reached his side. Daryl doesn't look at me.

"I'm sorry," I say after minutes of unbearable silence between us. "I shouldn't have asked about you and Beth. It isn't any of my business." I want him to say that nothing had happened between them, just to put my mind at ease. Instead, the exact opposite comes from his mouth.

"You're right. It ain't."

I bite down hard on my lower lip as we wander on, back through the forest and onto the church. I hate myself for it, but I'm happy Beth is dead.