A/N: Bit of an upset with that mid-season finale, eh? I haven't seen the ep, but spoilers couldn't be avoided, so I know what happens. Just makes me that much mrs determined to finish this. Thanks for sticking with me.

Any recognizable elements herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.

There's a look on people's faces these days that says two things simultaneously: thank god you're back and safe, and, where are the others? When Maggie levelled me with that look, my heart sunk deeper than it already had. Daryl was still out there with Rick, somewhere, alive or dead we couldn't be sure.

And I was here, living and breathing.

Giving Maggie a curt nod, I pushed past her, and the rest of the group where they had come to greet us at the fence, and hurried towards the house.

"Beth," Maggie called after me. I heard her charging along the dry grass to catch up with my determined strides. "Beth, it'll be all right; they'll make it back."

"I'm not taking any chances," I said warily, casting her a sidelong glance as she jogged along side me. "I'm not gonna lose him again."

"It's getting close to sundown," she reasoned, following me up the steps and into the house. "You can't do anything out there in the dark except get yourself killed."

I made a beeline for the cellar, where we'd made a stockpile of supplies, and slid the rifle I'd picked up the night before off of my shoulder. Maggie noticed it right away, and she looked at me with wide eyes. "What happened?"

"Got pinned down by walkers," I explained, shrugging out of my pack and emptying the contents, "And stumbled into another group. Carl and I had the only clear escape route. Rick and Daryl must have circled back and come about west." I stared into her clear, green eyes.

"All right," she said after a moment, her face becoming hard. "Then we'll go out together."

"Maggie," I began, shaking my head.

"No," she snapped, grabbing my shoulder, ignoring how I tried to pull away. "I'm coming with you, Beth. I don't know if you know this or not, but I spent a long time with Daryl searching for you. I know what you mean to him, and I'd say I have a good idea what he means to you, because it's the same for me. For all of us. Don't you get it? We're a family Beth, no matter how long you've been away, I've always known that you were alive, and trying to find your way back to us. We didn't survive what we did to fall apart afterwards."

"But that's exactly what is happening, Maggie. I'm not the same little girl I was when this world exploded. I'm not the same girl I was when the prison fell, and Daddy's head got cut off -" and here, Maggie flinched, and her face pulled into a grimace - "and I'm certainly not the same girl I was before I killed three people with my bare hands. People, Maggie, not walkers, not some rotting, reanimated corpse. I killed people, Maggie, and I liked doing it. I'd do it again."

"I know," Maggie replied in a calm voice. She laid a hand on my arm and squeezed, halting my movements. When I looked up at her, her eyes were haunted, and distant, and she nodded, glancing out the window, before looking back to me. Swallowing thickly, she spoke again. "I know, Beth, because I felt the same thing - I still feel it. When that son of a bitch killed Daddy, I could have killed Rick for taking that shot. I wanted it. I craved it, even after the fact, and some nights, I wake up next to Glenn and wonder if I'll ever shake the feeling of hatred for that man." She paused, and worried her lip. "I don't pretend to know exactly what happened to you, Beth, and you don't have to tell me what happened, but don't think I don't understand. The Governor tore apart our family, but he tore me apart first."

I gaped at her, my mouth gone dry. "Maggie?" I said softly.

She didn't elaborate further. "We're all falling apart, Beth, but together, we can rebuild. You're my sister. You'll always be my sister, the last piece of a time before the world went to shit. Nothing is going to change that. I need you to be okay. I don't need you to be the same, I just need you to be okay, and to be with us. So, if you want to go after Daryl and Rick, I support you, just don't expect me to sit here and wait for you to come back."

I nodded stiffly. "All right. Okay. We give them the day to return, but I want to push further out towards the road and scout again, look for signs." Maggie opened her mouth to protest, but I could only shake my head with a wry smile. "You can't sit here and wait for me; I can't sit here and wait for them. I have to do something."

"I'll go, too."

I turned at Michonne's voice, her hip absent of Judith. "Bob and Sasha are watching her. Carl volunteered, but he passed out on the couch twenty minutes ago. Didn't even want to wash up…" Michonne trailed off, looking me over, seeing the leftover rusty streaks of dried blood. "You all right?"

I shrugged, and Michonne nodded in reply, before slipping on her coat. "Let's go find them."

"Don't move," Daryl uttered with barely a breath. He placed his hand on Rick's shoulder, halting any movement, and then gestured to the bush below them. Catching Rick's pale gaze in the dappled midday sun, the archer put a finger to his lips, and the two synchronized their breathing: soft, shallow, and slow.

Sure enough, the brush parted a moment later and the last two men from the party they stumbled upon the night before came crashing through, rifles raised, their stink and noise making them viable targets for the straggling walkers that still tailed them. The herd was bigger than Daryl or Beth had guessed; in the trees, it had been scattered, but as they ran and came over clearings, the numbers filed out, and the herd numbered close to fifty, at least. They'd downed those that were close enough, but eight hours of running and fighting had taxed both Rick and Daryl.

At that time of year, the sun disappeared all too quickly. Daryl figured they were a good twelve miles from the house. As only one man went after Beth and Carl, Rick had made the unconscious decision to move their opponents as far away from the family as possible, before they had no other choice but to stand their ground. Crossing over the river had proved lucky - most of the herd that was following them had been lost to the waist high water and the smooth current, or to the slippery banks that almost claimed Daryl, had it not been for Rick's quick hand. The men that followed, however, were more sure footed than the dead. Daryl led them into the woods, where shadows lengthened, and played tricks on the mind. He'd boosted Rick up into the boughs of an oak, and scrambled up after. There, they waited.

Four years of running and working together meant that very few words were needed to communicate between Rick and Daryl. In a series of small movements and hand gestures, they discussed options:

Do we drop on them? Rick suggested, two fingers up and then pointing down.

Daryl shook his head and held up his hand. Just wait a moment.

Rick nodded, his fingers flexing around the grip of his gun.

They watched, and waited.

"Do you see em?" One man asked, kicking through the leaves.

From his vantage point in the tree, Daryl rolled his eyes and suppressed a snort of disgust. This assholes couldn't track to save their lives. If anything, their stupidity would be his and Rick's saving grace.

"No - why the fuck we chasing em, anyway?"

"Got a kid an' a girl with em," the first man explained. "Means they got shelter - they were travellin' light. I'm guessing their shelter ain't that far off. Didn't you say you seen a gravel track about fifteen miles back? Could lead to wherever they're at. They wouldn't be this far out with that amount of gear if they didn't have reserves close by."

Rick made a sound in his throat, and Daryl pressed his hand to Rick's chest once more. His gaze then cut to Rick's, and he slowly shook his head. Wait for it. You'll get your moment. Still, he knew what Rick was feeling - the clawing nausea in his guts at the mention of Beth and Carl threatened the hunter's patience that was ingrained in him. But he knew a thing or two about waiting for the right time, and so as much as it killed him to do so, he sat still.

"Shit, an' where's Tim, then?" The second man voiced his concern. "You don't think those two got the drop on him, do ya?"

The first man paused where as he circled the area.

Daryl took his hand away from Rick's chest and nodded, pointing his veed fingers down to where their threat stood. He held up three fingers then, slowly folding them in a countdown.

Three

"What?" The first man barked.

Two

"I said do you think they got the drop on Tim?"

One. Daryl closed his fist, and nodded curtly.

And just like that, Rick and Daryl dropped out of the tree.

"I know you're out here, you little cunt," The grey-eyed man called out into the frigid air of the evening. "Watching me, plotting your revenge. Think you're clever, don't you, turning Anna into one of them things, and setting a trap?" He stepped off the porch in a bold move, and lit a cigarette. He must have found some on the run he'd just returned from.

"And Frank? Jesus, you tore his leg wide open, missy. Bled out all over the floor. The smell will probably bring a herd down on us. You got a bead on me now, hiding in them trees? I had to drive a pair of scissors into his ear." He flexed his fingers and stared at his hands. "It's harder than it looks in the movies," he added, softly. "He was my best friend," he continued loudly, addressing me once more. "Since we were twelve." He kicked at a pile of snow that had bloomed red with his friend's blood.

Perched in my tree, I closed my eyes and swallowed against the lump in my throat. Welcome to the club, asshole - everybody has lost someone in this world. I lifted the rifle and sighted him, and took my time choosing a target. 'Frank' had got off easily, and so had 'Anna'. Whatever the grey-eyed man's name was, I didn't want his demise to be so cut and dry. I pointed the rifle down half an inch, and aimed at his foot.

The shot rang through the trees, the sound clinging to the cold, and the bullet tore into his ankle. My aim was off, but he was lame, and as he screamed and sprawled back in the snow, I slid from the tree and made my way back towards the cabin.

He was as pale as the snow surrounding him, and blood and bone fragments littered the area around his right leg. He didn't hear me crunching back through the snow towards him, probably because he was too busy screaming in agony. If the thick smell of blood coming from the cabin - and yes, I could smell it straight away - didn't bring down a herd, then certainly his screams would. I didn't have much time, and cursed at not being able to drag this out as long as I could.

He didn't notice me until I was standing right over him, the rifle clutched in one hand, and my knife in the other.

"Shit," he huffed, his tone almost humorous. He grinned, or grimaced, I wasn't sure which, and he slid back along the snow, blood trailing from his ankle. He stifled a moan, and clenched his jaw.

I circled him, watching him, watching me, and when I remained silent, it served to agitate him. I guessed him to be one of those people who liked to hear themselves talk, because he started rambling, calling me names, insulting my intelligence, trying to dig back in to where he'd been clawing for the last six months. It wasn't going to to work; like a snarling, snapping line of walkers outside the prison wall, you learn to ignore the white noise. Instead, I concentrated on his breath, puffing and fogging in the air in front of him. I took in the almost translucent color of his eyes - they might have been nice eyes, too, if not for the malice that made them freeze over. I paused, standing over him, and I wondered briefly what he might have been like in his other life, before this one. I didn't really care. It's not like he cared anything about me, beyond being a way to pass time. My proximity, and my stillness, threatened him, but his tune changed quickly, to that of pleading, of reasoning, bargaining, and finally begging.

"Please. Just…please, don't leave me here like this. You grew up on a farm, didn't ya? You talked about it in your sleep, I know you did. Put me down like you would a lame horse. Just a bullet - I know you've got more, the ammo was missing from the closet. You beat me. All right? You got your revenge."

I felt my face harden, and slowly, I shook my head. "No. No, I didn't get my revenge." I set the rifle down against the house, out of his reach, but within mine. I showed him the knife, and dropped to a crouch next to his chest. He flinched as I reached for the collar of his jacket, and whimpered, turning his head away from whatever he saw in my eyes.

"Please, don't." His plea shook in the frozen air.

"Look at me," I asked flatly, twisting his jacket in my hand.

"No, please-"

"Look at me!" I snarled, snapping his attention to mine, and dragging his shoulders up off the snow as I pressed the blade of knife under his jaw. "I wanna see that pretty face all fucked up with pain," I hissed, echoing his words from so long ago.

My work was hard, taking me through the early afternoon. Near sundown, he passed out from the pain, or from blood loss, I wasn't sure. Either way, he'd be dead soon enough. I'd broken fingers to match my own that ached with my efforts. I cut the skin on his flank to ribbons, bruised my knuckles on his teeth, and, with his one ankle shattered from the bullet, cut through the tendon of the other, ensuring that he would not be able to even limp away. He couldn't even crawl. He couldn't even see, the cut above his eyebrow had bled profusely into his eye. He'd struggled at first, and whined and whimpered more than I ever had. When I finally stood and tucked the knife away into the sheath on my belt, I turned and went into the cabin, and his laboured gasps, and final, desperate words followed me. Even if I'd wanted to save him, there was no hope for him, not up here, not where everything was already dead.

I could taste his blood in my mouth, and I tore the parka off my body before trampling into the cramped bathroom. The water in the sinks didn't work; there was no electricity to run the pump, and besides, it was frozen anyway. But, water had been thawed that morning, and sat in a white five gallon pail next to the sink. I filled the basin and then my mouth, swishing and spitting the copper taste from my mouth to the toilet. I worked on my hands next, hissing at the cold water against my numb skin, and fighting with the stubborn stains around my cuticles. I raised my gaze to the mirror, and froze as a ghost stared back at me.

I hadn't so much as caught a glimpse of my reflection since my was blood everywhere - sprayed over my chin, down my throat, over my forehead, and it was thick, knotting in the ends of my hair. I tore open the cabinet behind the mirror, searching frantically for a blade, a razor, anything to rid me of it all. Then, I remembered: the scissors had been driven into Frank's ear. My hand fell to the knife on my hip, and I slid it out, and wiped the blade as best I could. Looking down at my hands, and then to my wrists, I saw that small, spidery scar that crawled up my wrist, and for a moment, I found myself dragging the tip of the knife along it.

"That ain't you, girl. Not anymore."

The voice shocked me, shook me, an echo of something I thought I'd lost. Forcing myself to look to them mirror once more, a shadow passed behind me, with the fleeting shape of angel wings. Startled, I turned, and found that I was alone in the bathroom.

"Ain't ever alone, you know."

I exhaled shakily, and closed my eyes, letting my head hang between my shoulders. I'd come this far. I'd come this far and I wasn't dead yet. I wasn't going to be another dead girl, not to anyone, ever. Grasping a hank of hair, the ends sticky, and matted with blood, I set to work with the knife.

It was a hack job of a haircut. My crooked fingers clutched the knife as best they could, while I sliced through the length of time I'd been gone from my family, the length of time I'd been living in this other world, and the length of time I'd been in the mountains. Blonde and rusty-red strands plummeted into the sink, making a muddy, pink mess of the water still there. And when I looked back up in the mirror, the girl there didn't seem so unfamiliar. It was like she'd been there all along, just waiting for the right time to show herself.