This is it folks! To all of you who have been around since the beginning, those who joined halfway through, and those who just stumbled down this rabbit hole - thank you. Your comments and support helped me to push through writer's block on so many occasions. I never expected the response I received for this - honestly, I have been continually floored by how many people seem to have enjoyed this story. So thank you all.

EPILOGUE.

The wind was blowing her hair into her face. Little wisps of it kept getting stuck to her mouth or caught in her eyelashes. She refused to touch it though – she was still dressed like a Terminite doll: pretty white dress, peach blossoms woven in behind her ear. She felt as fake as everything in Terminus, even as the city itself was disappearing in the distance.

She'd hoped the farther she got away from that place – the closer she got to District Eleven – the more she'd feel like herself again, the more she'd feel like Beth Greene. But Daryl had been right: you don't get to come back. They called her the girl made of sunshine but whatever light she'd had, she'd left it in the arena.

The sun was setting over the treetops – all bright pinks and oranges, shot with indigo and violet. It would be full dark soon and Rowan would come find her, send her into her compartment, order her to get some sleep; Beth knew she wouldn't really sleep – as soon as she closed her eyes, the nightmares would start.

She'd seen enough terror to haunt her dreams for the rest of her life.

So she was hiding out here, hoping that Daryl wouldn't give her away. He'd been keeping a close eye on her nearly every moment since she'd stumbled out of her bedroom at the Tower. He knew where she was right now, he could find her if he wanted.

She was actually surprised he was giving her space now. He'd been a shadow to her for the last two days. The only time she'd been away from him was when she'd disappeared into her room at night to pretend to sleep – and even then she was pretty certain he spent the night sitting outside her door.

"He was worried about you," Gabriel explained as he'd dressed her in her Victory gown. "I don't think he left those monitors for a moment the entire time you were in there; wanted to be close to you, I guess."

She didn't know what to think about that. Same as she didn't know what to think about this pain in her chest that sparked up every time she thought about how their lives would diverge once they were back home. He'd be in his world, she'd be in hers, and they'd only meet once in a while – for the Victory Tour, certainly, but after that – she didn't know. Once a year they'd end up back in Terminus together, mentors. The thought sickened her.

When had Daryl Dixon become the only person she felt comfortable with? It wasn't as if their relationship before she'd gone into the arena had been pleasant for more than a few hours. In fact, the only cordial conversation they'd ever had was when she was demanding that he not keep her death on his conscience. Was it merely circumstance? Was it just because he was the only other person who could possibly know how she was feeling? Perhaps.

But it felt like something else too.

The train car door opened behind her and she didn't need to turn around to know it was him. He walked up to the railing with her, leaning his forearms against it and lighting a cigarette.

"You okay?" he mumbled, cigarette stuck between his teeth.

She shrugged. Physically, yes; she was better than okay. Other than her scar, the Terminite doctors had left nothing amiss. All of her injuries had been healed and they'd even given her some high tech food supplements to counteract the toll starvation had taken on her body. Overall, she was in better condition, health-wise, than when she'd left home.

Everything else, however –

"I guess I just thought that leavin' would make me feel better, y' know? Like I might be myself again – but you were right – there ain't no comin' back from that," she sighed.

For a minute, Daryl was silent then, "I don't know. Maybe it ain't so hard comin' back if you got somethin' t' come back to."

Beth breathed out a humorless laugh, "What've I got to come back to?"

Daryl shrugged, blowing a puff of smoke into the cool evening air, "Your dad, sister – that skinny kid she's always with –"

Beth smiled, "Glenn."

"Right, Glenn," Daryl amended. "You got plenty a' people back home who're gonna get you through it. And maybe it'll take a year or two – maybe the rest a' your life – but you'll get there. You'll get back."

"You've got to be quite the optimist while I been gone, Mr. Dixon," she teased.

Daryl huffed, looking self-conscious, "Yeah, well. Some little pain in the ass told me I weren't allowed t' feel guilty anymore." He smirked at her.

She held his gaze for a moment then looked at the trees fading over the hill as the train sped onward. He was right, of course. She had Maggie and Glenn, her father – they would all be there for her, no matter what. Even with all the terrible things they'd seen her do in the arena, she knew they'd help her.

But Daryl – who did he have to help him come back?

She was nervous to ask.

"What?" he grumbled. She looked at him, confused. "You got this look on your face."

"Nothin'," she said, feeling embarrassed. "It's just: I got Maggie and my dad and Glenn but – what's your somethin' t' come back to?"

A corner of Daryl's mouth quirked upward, "Y' know."

"What?" she asked. His smile made her grin although she had no idea why. Perhaps because those looks were so rare for him, they couldn't help but be contagious.

He shrugged again, looking away from her and mumbled something.

She rolled her eyes, "Don't –," she mimicked him. "What?"

When he turned back to her it was with that stare that seemed to reach into her soul. He didn't say a word but that didn't matter. His face said everything – everything and more. Her heart beat picked up – hammering so loud in her chest he could probably hear it.

It was her; she was his something.

"Oh," she breathed. It was all she could manage.

She swallowed the nervous lump in her throat. She didn't know what to say. She'd never let herself have even the possibility of this. But everything was different now. She'd survived – and he'd survived. There was no risk of one of them dying in the arena now, leaving the other heartbroken.

She ran her tongue along her bottom lip, suddenly so dry. His gaze dropped to her mouth.

She should say something or do something. Anything.

The train car door opened and Gabriel stepped out, pulling to a stop when he saw them, "Oh – I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

Daryl shifted away, uncomfortable. Beth blinked. The moment was over. She smiled at Gabriel, nervous and feeling foolish, "It's um – it's okay. Is everythin' all right?"

Gabriel nodded, "Fine. Rowan wanted me to find you, tell you to get to bed." He kept looking between her and Daryl. There was too much knowing in his brown eyes.

Beth nodded, "Of course. I'll be right in."

Gabriel hesitated a moment before he gave her a small grin and turned back inside, closing the door behind him. Beth looked back at Daryl. Whatever had passed between them was gone – and she really didn't want it to be. She wracked her brain for anything, anything to get it back.

"I have nightmares," she blurted. Feeling like an idiot, she added, "Whenever I try to sleep. I just – I see their faces, all 'a them, even the ones I didn't watch die. I make up these horrible ends for 'em. And when I wake up, all I want to do is curl into a ball and cry."

Daryl watched her carefully, understanding in his eyes.

"But then," she continued, "then I hear you, sittin' outside the door – don't pretend you don't – and I feel a little better."

There were butterflies rushing around in her stomach.

"So I was thinkin'," she couldn't look at him, too certain she'd chicken out, "maybe if you were inside it might be even better."

She glanced at him through her eyelashes. He looked uncertain, wary. His tone was warning, "Beth…"

The look on his face – oh, Lord.

"Just for sleepin'," she rushed to clarify. "I just think I could sleep better with you there is all."

Daryl hesitated. There seemed to be a war going on inside his head. She desperately hoped she would win. After a moment that felt far too long, he nodded slowly. She tried very hard to suppress the grin that spread across her face; it didn't work real well.

Her compartment was the same one as before and it didn't feel any more comfortable than it had the first night on the train. She pulled blankets off the bed and clothes from the hangers, arranging everything on the floor.

They lay down next to each other – close enough that she felt his safety, but far enough that Daryl didn't get uncomfortable. Even still, he held himself so carefully that Beth thought he might actually snap from the tension.

She chuckled softly, her eyes drifting shut, "Just go t' sleep, Daryl."

This time she was certain when she heard him say, "G'night, Beth."

The light of morning was grey as Beth slipped out of the house. The homes in Victor's Village had enough bedrooms that she and Maggie didn't have to share anymore, but that didn't mean Maggie had lost her super-hearing. If she knew Beth was up and about at this hour. she'd make her sit down and explain where she was going.

She jogged down the steps, pulling her sweater tighter around her shoulders, and hurried toward the iron archway at the edge of the lane. Autumn was settling in quickly, although the days were still warm, and there were leaves crunching under her boots.

Beth slowed, tried to tread carefully over the ground, as silent as possible.

"You're louder 'an a herd 'a cattle." She glared at the back of Daryl's head. He'd been leaning against the arch, smoking. Now he turned and smirked at her.

"You callin' me a cow?" she questioned, hands landing on her hips.

He shook his head, "No – callin' you a herd 'a cows." She punched him lightly in the shoulder, rolling her eyes.

"You keep that up, Mr. Dixon, and I ain't gonna bother with you anymore," she warned, falling into step as they walked down the road toward the rest of the town.

"Yeah? Who's gonna teach you trackin' then? Don't see anybody else lining up to offer," Daryl remarked, cheekily.

"Who says I still need teachin'? I'm getting' pretty good," she raised her chin confidently, "I probably don't even need you anymore."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. Beth laughed brightly. Some days the only time she ever felt right in herself was when she and Daryl were in the woods, following a hare or tracking deer.

They were the good days.

"Hey," she started, looking at him, her voice serious, "Can we make a quick stop? I just got t' do somethin' b'fore we go out."

Daryl nodded and let Beth take the lead.

The cemetery wasn't far off their path, only a short way past the spot in the fence that they always snuck through into the woods. The great oak tree – over a hundred years old – still had more green leaves than brown when Beth and Daryl walked in.

She found the right marker quickly. It was the newest, after all, and closest to the gate. She'd been here a couple of times since they'd gotten back but she'd usually gone on her own. Today, Daryl stood next to her, close by her side.

She took a deep breath as she looked at Patrick's name carved into the stone. It was time to let him go. She stuck her hand in her pocket and pulled out her piece of jasper. Once, twice, she rolled it in her fingers before stepping forward and placing the small green gem on top of the rough gravestone. It was as if a weight had lifted from her chest. Daryl watched her, as he always did, when she came back to his side.

They didn't say anything. But Beth felt Daryl shift closer to her, his jacket sleeve brushing against her sweater. He still made her nervous, but a good nervous – a hopeful nervous. She'd never expected that when she'd watched him sitting on the stage in the square.

Beth slipped her hand into his, lacing their fingers together. He let her, even gave her hand a soft squeeze, comforting her.

He had told her that Maggie and Glenn and her dad were her something to come back to; that she was his.

The truth was: he was her something too.

They stood like that for a while, holding hands while the sun rose over the trees behind them. When Daryl glanced down at her, she smiled up at him.

"Ready t' go?" he asked.

She nodded, "Ready."

When they walked through the meadow behind her old house, Beth laughed, clear and sweet.

The birds were singing.

THE END.

FINAL NOTES: Whelp. I'm sad it's over. Once again, thank you to everyone who ever decided to click on this story and especially to those who decided to keep giving it a chance despite month-long breaks in updates. You have all been amazing.