Beth has felt it before, in between the ragged breaths that keen and whine; as if they are her last and she somehow knows it. She's seen the world slow around her, seen bullet-casings leave a gun and fly by with such gradual grace that she could make out her own blurry reflection in the heated metal. It's a bizarre feeling, one she came to associate with near-death. Right now doesn't––or maybe shouldn't––belong on that list, at least at first.

It only takes one strangled sob, choking from under Maggie's trembling embrace, for her to realize that this moment is exactly like the others. Those were moments when she was fighting for her life, and isn't that exactly what's happening right now? Isn't she fighting for her life, her real life? The tears make it impossible to see all the familiar faces gathering around her, but it doesn't matter, she knows who they are. Familiar scents, and footfalls and voices breaking against her ears. She feels Glenn's firm grip on her shoulder and somehow knows it's him before she even turns to press her forehead into his shoulder. She smells Judith's hair.

For a few slowed down seconds she's only got enough space inside her little busted-up heart to feel overjoyed. It's overwhelming, the relief of seeing them, holding them, crying with them again. It's tainted quickly, with worry, with wonder at new scars and wrinkles and weight etched into their tired faces and bodies, tugging at their rounded shoulders. She must not look the same either; a whole new war has come and gone since the last time they were together.

She doesn't know whether she's speaking any words at all, or if she's just babbling with incoherent sobs. She can hear words but her brain isn't processes them. If they're asking questions, she's not answering them. She can't.

The first discernible thing she hears is Lily shouting out a name "TARA!" and then a woman she doesn't know responding with "LILY!" the two of them fly into each other, the unknown woman noticeably stronger and fitter than the malnourished, gaunt Lily.

How long they're standing there, just appreciating the impossible, she can't say. Other figures hover back a ways, watching, looking unsure, even fearful of all the newcomers, or of the new place that they've come to. Daryl is speaking quietly to a small, red-headed woman near the gate, now shut and protecting them again from the horrors outside the walls.

Everything is a blur. They hand over weapons, she experiences that like she's watching someone else do it. Aaron finishes explaining the relevant details of what they've been through in his soothing, trustworthy voice. She can feel her blood pressure lowering as the night wanes, the sun gets high, the tears in her sister's eyes dry, while her own eyes get heavy, but can't close. Work isn't done yet.

"I'll see your sister first," the small red-headed woman tells Maggie. They both seem to understand exactly what this means, though Beth raises an expectant eyebrow at them. "Then your sister," she adds to Tara and Lily, gripping each of them by the shoulder.

Maggie takes her hand, "C'mon." They follow after the small, red-headed woman towards one of the fine new homes. "That's Deanna, she's in charge of this place."

But what was this place? In the blue-grey light of morning, the housing complex doesn't feel alive, doesn't feel like anything, just another ruin of the old world. Beth looks for the hope. It's got walls. It's got a warm look, in spite of the cold light. It's got nervous shadows with wide eyes. People, not predators. That's who lives here, and isn't a place whatever it's people are? It's home. Just home.

She can't decide whether that's perfect or a death sentence.

Deanna's house is all golden light, by the time she gets settled in. It's thanks to the rising sun coming in through the windows. The white walls and clean furniture make Beth feel more conscious of the road dust clinging to her; the grimy layer of black smoke and grey ash. She glances at her hands, in fists at her sides. The grime has settled into every line of her skin. Her nails are caked with soil and dust. This room looks like a dream of the world before it ended, but Beth finally looks like she belongs in the wild.

"Won't you take a seat, Beth?" Deanna sets up a camera in front of the chair.

"You're recording this?" she's not sure why that makes her feel odd.

"My name is Deanna, Beth. I just want to speak to you for a few minutes. Get to know you. Get a feel for where you might fit in this community."

"You have a vision?" Beth could better see it now, out the windows, the silhouette of the walls and homes and even the people milling around, "You think we can rebuild the world?"

"We already are," Deanna's voice is warm and firm. "This place isn't just about survival Beth. We're thriving."

She wants to believe it, wants to trust that her family wouldn't be here if it wasn't the right place for them. But thriving still sounds too unrealistic. Survival is barely realistic. On one of the watchtowers, she catches sight of a lookout with a gun and feels better. "I don't know if you can trust them."

For a long moment, Deanna just lets that hang the air between them.

"The people who came with me." Beth finally does sit back against the armchair at her back, but can't stop gripping the edge of the chair, ready to jump up if she needs too. "I knew them. They were bad people. I know them now. They're different. I don't know how different. I don't know if they'll make this place better, or if they'll put you all at risk."

"I'm going to interview each of them as well," Deanna nods softly, eyes down a moment as she thinks, "What did they do that makes you call them bad people?"

She's slow to answer. She doesn't want to sound ungrateful, or like she's already thinking the worst of this place, but she feels, looking into Deanna's eyes, that it's the best way, right now. The time to lie might come later, but for now, Beth can be honest. "I don't remember how I first met them. I was hurt. I woke up, inside walls. It was safe. Clean. Like this. They weren't interested in rebuilding though. They were in denial. They thought someone was coming for them. Or they pretended to think that. I dunno if anyone's really that stupid." After the last few days, it finally occurs to Beth that she might have tried talking to them. A little voice chastises her for not taking the opportunity to learn everything she could, before she led them to her family.

Deanna's eyes search her face, but Beth swallows the doubt and finishes her thought. It's not just her eyes on them anymore. Aaron and Daryl can be trusted. Now they are all watching.

"They were sick." Beth doesn't blink as she holds onto Deanna's gaze, firmly. "They had supplies, but they burned through them, hurting and caring for people like me, people who they wanted to bring in. To use."

"They hurt people on purpose?"

"I think so, yeah. They would find people out there, sometimes they were hurt already, but…" Beth shrugged, that was always the first part of their gimmick that bothered her. She'd spent months on the road, and didn't encounter people in mortal danger all that often. It was just the law of averages. Most of the time, you showed up too late. Or else you encountered people who were just fine, and dangerous. The second kind, you always wanted to avoid, and the first kind… well, you could only help them by putting down their corpse, at that point. "Everyone they brought in was hurt. They had a play: we saved your life, now you owe us."

"It's not like that here," said Deanna, so harshly that it made Beth's eyes (which had been wandering over to the books) snap back to attention. "You don't owe us anything. I'm not asking for that."

"I know," Beth nodded. "I'm free to go? But you want me to help you build something."

Slowly, Deanna's bright eyes drew a small smile, "Yes. I want you to help me build something."

Beth remembers the last time she'd gotten a proper haircut. It was nearly a year before the world ended. Her mom had waited with her, though she didn't need to. She remembered making eye contact with in the mirror. Her mom smiled up at her over the top of a magazine, assuring her with a wink that it looked cute.

Jessie doesn't have a mirror, she just rotates around the kitchen chair, her scissors careful and her face thoughtful, concentrating. Maggie sits across from her, still holding onto Beth with a bloodshot gaze.

"Maggie. You look so tired. You should get some sleep."

But Maggie just shakes her head.

Probably, Beth would be better off not saying anything. Maggie has a habit of not wanting to do what Beth says, purely because she says it. "You're pregnant. Rest," Beth tries again.

"She's got a point," Jessie comes to help her, pausing for a moment as she once again ran her fingers through Beth's hair, somewhat surreptitiously trying to find a style that would hide the quarter-sized scar on the back of her head. Not surreptitious enough though, Beth can tell what she's doing. "Deanna is going to be busy interviewing all day. I'm sure she'll need help later, but she can spare you for a few hours."

Maggie glances at Jessie, then squares her eyes back on her sister. Even without explaining herself, Beth knows what she's thinking; Maggie isn't done looking at her yet, isn't done believing that she's alive and well, but she's so tired and overwhelmed that she's running out of excuses. She can't bring herself to admit that she just wants to keep looking at her sister's face.

"I could use a nap, honestly." Beth admits.

"We're just about finished up." Jessie assures her.

With noticeable deliberation Maggie finally says, "Okay. Let's both get some sleep. You can stay with Glenn and me for now."

There's no way that's happening. It's a somewhat unexplainable surge of annoyance that brings this thought into Beth's mind. She knows two things, almost immediately. The first is that she wouldn't be so angry, if she wasn't legitimately exhausted and the second is that she genuinely doesn't think that living with Maggie and Glenn is a good idea. It's not just anger.

Just for a nap though. That's acceptable. "'Kay," she speaks so quietly, she's not even sure that Maggie or Jessie hear her.

The last few minutes they sit in silence, besides the metallic whisper of the scissors, taking care of a few uneven ends. When they are finished, Beth goes to the bathroom to check herself in the mirror there. After a shower, a haircut and a clean, new outfit, the sight is a bit of a shock.

She wants to say that she looks more like herself, from back before the world ended, but that would be a lie. She doesn't really look like that girl anymore. She's scrubbed, glowing, prettier than she's looked or felt in a long time, but that face is still hard and mangled, still chiseled in stone. Her hair is shorter than she ever remembers it being, though Jessie didn't take away much length; mostly she just evened out where it was hacked sloppily and gave it some more attractive texture and layers. The longest bits tickle her shoulders, still, but it rises to frame her face. The clothing feels strange. She was given a simple pair of shorts that haven't been broken in yet, and a white half-button top that fits loose and soft. The last time she had something white, Daryl got blood all over it.

Maggie appears in her reflection, concern etched onto every inch of her face. Beth realizes she's been standing there a while. "We're just a couple houses down." She takes her hand.

The simple gesture makes Beth's blood boil a little, just because it's the kind of thing Maggie used to do when they were crossing a street together, but she finds she's too tired to make a point of it. She lingers just a moment, then obeys Maggie's grip, encouraging her out the door. For a moment she closes her eyes and imagines she is a little girl again.

Some part of her wants to dissect and study this place, the way she did with Grady when she first arrived, and also, the way she had to observe and understand Rick and the others, when they first came to the farm. But it's tempting to take it all for granted. She trusts Rick. She trusts Daryl. She trusts Michonne. Her family wouldn't let them stay here, if they weren't sure.

Usually, Beth could at least rely on curiosity to spur her on, but this time, she finds herself instead just longing for the ability to know without studying, to fit into this new place without doing the work. She's run for so long, she's been alone for so long. On some level, she'd never really appreciated how spiritually exhausting it was.

But, she's not ready to need this place.

She's not even ready to need her big sister again.

"Daryl said he found you at the farm? You went back there after…"

"Yeah," Beth watches birds landing on the edge of the pond, and doesn't look up at her sister, as they wind their way around to the house that Glenn and Maggie live in. All the homes look the same, turning around, it takes Beth a moment to determine which one they just came from.

"Did you go straight there after…?"

"I didn't know where else to go," Beth admits.

"Noah said you planned to go to Virginia with him."

Her memories of the hospital being as fuzzy as they are, Beth can't really place that specific conversation, but it isn't an outright lie. She certainly had intended for Noah to get home. Maybe she even intended to go there with him personally, but there had to be a part in that plan for finding her family too. She didn't know if they were alive, besides Daryl, but if she had known it, she would have counted on them looking for her. A lump rises in her throat, and she decides not to comment on Noah, or on their plans, or on anything that happened during those darkest days. "How far along are you?"

"I think… two months?" Maggie looks thoughtful at that, the statement turns into a yawn.

To Beth's relief, Maggie stops trying to make conversation. Within two minutes they're in the master bedroom where Maggie and Glenn sleep. Without turning the sheets down, Maggie lays on her side, motioning for Beth to lie down as well. It doesn't take more than five minutes for Beth to watch Maggie fall fast asleep. In spite of the fact that Beth is tired, she has no intention of sleeping right now.

Carefully, she rises up from the bed, watching Maggie breathing deeply. She backs out of the room, lightly descends the staircase and goes out the front door, closing it softly at her back.

Now under the full day, Alexandria is a sleepy, cuddly beast. Everyone looks clean and unawares. She sees a few figures out milling in their yards, or else on their porches talking to one another. There's a watch shift patrolling the gate. Overall, a decided feeling of routine wraps around this place, taking the resilient world and the safety they've found in it for granted. Maybe they can afford to, but probably not. Experience tells her no.

There is a house, in New Orleans, they call the Rising Sun

The familiar lyrics and tones of the organ carry on the wind, turning her attention to another nearby house where a stereo plays out into the open air. It's turned down low, but still loud enough to draw her near. Even before she makes it to the end of the driveway, she knows what she'll find. The loud clang of a tool being set aside on concrete, and a quick whiff of motor-oil are all the suggestion she needs.

Daryl has the garage door open, and he's beside his bike. After such a long journey, it makes sense that he might want to change out the oil and check up on it's more sensitive components.

He doesn't notice her right away, and she watches him with a safe distance stretched out between them. As she draws quietly near, his careful eyes are intent on the task in front of him. He rubs a smudge of grease from his palm into a red rag. His hair is wet, not yet dry from a shower. It looks especially long and dark with the weight of the water, but he hasn't bother to push it back out of his face much. He's changed out of his black, ragged clothing, stiff with dust from the road; instead he wears a pair of jeans that actually fit him (a sweet find) and a clean grey Henley. She wonders why he isn't in bed, catching up on all the sleep they lost, during the long run home.

When he notices her, she can tell that he wonders the same thing about her, but only for an instant. He freezes, like a stag that has caught her watching him in his natural habitat. Then he drops the rag on the seat of the bike and takes a few quick strides towards her, slowing down considerably as he leaves the shade of the garage. "S'alright?" he grumbles.

She ought to smile, but part of her enjoys just looking at his face as he looks at her. He doesn't betray concern for her, the way she'd feared he would. That moment that she nearly died doesn't seem to be replaying in his intent eyes. Alexandria burns in his periphery and Beth understands, all too well, what a difficult adjustment it must have been for him to come live here. This place is so wholly civilized, almost like the town itself is in denial about what was outside its walls. Does he have many new friends? She hopes so. She's already seen that he has Aaron. He has his bike and this garage. Now he has her, and looking at those eyes, he might even know it.

When she doesn't answer him, Daryl takes a couple of steps forward, and lifts a gentle hand to her face, his thumb ghosts over the faded bullet wound just below her hairline. "I made an appointment with the doctor. He said to give him a day to tour the facilities and get to know his station, but he wants to check you out tomorrow. Sounds like it's just…" Daryl shrugs, "To make people feel better, I guess. You've been fine for this long, so, that means you're prob'ly good." He seems a little nervous as he talks about it.

Beth wants to bark out in laughter. A doctor's appointment? A superfluous check-up even? How normal.

"I didn't mention what you said about the memories though," Daryl admits, hands trying to find his pockets and then working their way out again as he shifts his stance. "Maybe, he'll wanna hear about that." He stops babbling, stares at her. He doesn't seem uncomfortable though, or unsure the way she worried he might. Mostly, he just seems like he's full of things he wants to say. "S'alright though, ain't it? You're okay?" he finally circles back around to his original question.

"It's more than alright," and her voice nearly breaks, because she realizes all at once, this feeling that's been boiling up inside of her. "I'm so happy, it hurts." She doesn't know how else to explain it. "How am I supposed to live here though? Like a person?" she laughs out-loud and shuts the distance between them with a single lunge, burying herself deep into his chest.

He presses his palms into her back, arms tightening around her until he's taken most of her weight away from her tired feet.

"I'm mad at Maggie. Because of that message she left for Glenn and nobody else. 'Cause it seems like she just gave up on me." It feels good to admit it, and that wasn't the only reason she laughed out loud, "Plus, the baby names she and Glenn are coming up with are just terrible."

She feels Daryl chuckle in her ear, his hand strokes the back of her head.

She adds, "I'm also annoyed that no one's thought to take that tower apart out in front––it's too damaged to be any good no more, and it's probably gonna fall and hurt someone." She trembles against him with laughter, "It's so perfect, Daryl. It's so beautiful to be worried about stupid things. I never thought I'd be so happy to have this kinda junk to worry about."

"Yeah," he grumbles, but she can tell he doesn't quite understand. She isn't certain she understands, to be perfectly honest, but she has one more go at trying to explain it.

Beth pulls back so she could look at his face. He's searching her, but she can tell that some of his fears are soothed. She'll adjust to Alexandria. They both will. Together. "Something about getting shot in the head and the world ending all over again makes you appreciate the mundane."

The side of his mouth twitches. He leans in a kissed her on the forehead.

"There's one problem I wanna solve right now though."

"Yeah?" One of Daryl's eyebrows raises, as if he can already tell this is going to require something of him.

"Maggie and Glenn think I'm staying with them," she blinks at him.

It takes Daryl a few seconds to speak. She's pretty sure he's holding his breath before he puffs out a quiet question at his feet, "Who you wanna stay with, Greene?"

"This your place?" she indicates the house at his back with her eyes.

"Nah, this is actually Aaron and his husband Eric. Aaron's collected a lotta…" but he trails off, face red and tongue too tied to go on about Aaron's mechanic's collection.

"So, where do you live?" she asks brightly.

Still red, and trying not to smile, Daryl jerks his head off to the side. "S'over there. Real nice," he clears his throat, "You wanna check it out?"

"Yeah. I do."

The End

So, I totally have loads to apologize for. Lemme just say in my defense first that I actually always planned to end the story this way. Nothing big, just… a journey home. I had though it would be less embarrassing and disappointing if I was able to get the whole thing up in a matter of days/maybe a couple of weeks, and then of course it took MONTHS and I'm really, really sorry. This semester has been crazy. And last semester.

But, it's over, and it was honestly a lot of fun to write :D Special shout-out to my girl Kate who asked me to write this is the first place and then Beta-read every chapter, except this last one because I figured she'd be all busy like on her honeymoon or something.

I hope you guys enjoyed reading it, and you should check out my other "Beth Lives" fic Anno Domini, if you dig that kind of thing. I promise I am going to finish it as well. Once again, I'm really, really sorry, mostly that this took so much longer than I planned.

Your questions and feedback are always appreciated, don't hesitate to chat with me if you want to for any reason. I love you guys! Big hugs!

Annnndd, the final song of the chapter is:

We Found Each Other in the Dark - City and Colour