AN: Okay. Here we go again. Switching back to Beth's POV for this section of the series. But don't worry, you haven't heard the last of the inside of Daryl's head yet!

The mirror showed Beth's reflection back to her like it didn't give a crap about being careful of her feelings. The bags under her eyes were so dark they looked like bruises. She tried to sleep but the nightmares kept coming back - kept changing - not giving her a chance to get used to them. Tommy - Jared's laugh - the crack of bone against her body - a baby with Mark's eyes, whose tiny fingers were covered in blood. She'd wake up gasping.

Daryl was after her to rest more; would gently push her onto the couch, refused to let her hunt or haul or dig. Time ate Beth up - every little bit of her brain - any piece of it that she used to be able to quiet with movement or exhaustion. All she had were dragging days, the long hours crawling past as she waited - bracing herself for the worst. Always the worst.

"Y'sure I can't help?" Beth asked him.

"I'm just goin' to check the traps, girl," Daryl said, hanging out in the doorway. "I'll be back in five minutes. Ain't even worth gettin' up for, believe me."

"Then you sit down and I'll do it!" Beth groused, standing up.

"Beth," Daryl said, his voice holding a warning she had heard a lot lately. "Y'gotta take it easy. I know dick-all about babies or pregnant ladies, but it's still enough to know that you don't send them out to check rabbit traps in the middle of the damn apocalypse."

"Yeah?" Beth asked. "Y'read that in a handbook somewhere? 'Cause I'm pretty sure there's a lack of literature on our situation."

"Sit," he deadpanned.

"I'm not a dog, Daryl Dixon!"

"Stay!"

Beth grabbed a pillow off the couch to toss at him as he backed out of the house, leaving her alone. With her thoughts. Again. Beth rested a hand on her stomach, looking down at the lack of bump with an unreadable expression. What's going to happen to us? Beth wondered.

She curled up on the couch, not wanting Daryl to come back in a huff, and closed her eyes. Just for a second, she told herself. But the seconds stretched into minutes, and before she knew it her bones were heavy with sleep.

"You can't do that to her!" Beth shouted.

The boy turned around. He was 16, maybe 17. Beth tried to run past him, but he caught her arm, his grip bruising her skin. She looked up at him - at those eyes - those terrible, dark eyes. He was evil. He was hers.

"Shut up, mother!" he hissed. "You're gonna scare our pet."

"I told you to let her go," Beth demanded. "Just let her go!"

"You know I cant do that," he said with a sick grin, "I'm having too much fun."

"You're just like him!" Beth screamed. "You're just like him!"

"Do you want to see her?" he asked, ignoring her outburst. "Go up to the door, mother. Go on."

Her son gave her a hard shove. Beth fell hard on her knees and scrambled to get up. She told herself she would just get to the door, and get the girl out. That's all that mattered. Saving the girl. She'd just go and get the girl out, no matter the cost.

Beth opened the door only to see herself, as she was then, naked and shivering and terrified. Her one eye swollen shut; blood matted to her hair. Beth walked forward, stepping slowly, until she was facing herself.

"You're a monster," her younger self said, "and your son is a monster. You're both... you're monsters. You could've stopped it! You should've stopped it!"

"I didn't... I didn't know," Beth pleaded, "how could I have known?"

"You know it's Mark's," her younger self said, "he was the only who ever... you knew. You knew the baby would come out like him. You could feel it."

"No," Beth protested.

"Yes!" the girl shouted. "He's just like his father. You can't change that! You can't just shove this baby onto Daryl and keep playing pretend. I mean, look at him!"

Beth spun around to look at her son. He was standing in front of a glass window. On his back was a crossbow, and there was something clenched in his hand that Beth struggled to make out - it was Daryl's vest - and it was covered in blood.

Beth screamed.

"Stop it, Beth," Daryl said, gently shaking her awake, "it's just a dream. Wake up."

"Daryl?" Beth croaked, looking up at him.

"Yeah, it's just me, girl," Daryl said. "I heard you screamin'."

"I'm sorry," Beth said, sitting up.

"You wanna tell me what that was about?" Daryl asked, sitting next to her.

"You... uh, y'aren't worried? About the baby, I mean. About it comin' out... bad," Beth said, lowering her eyes, feeling ashamed of herself for even asking.

"No," Daryl said easily. She felt his finger under her chin, lifting her face so he could look into her eyes. "Hey, no. It's you and me, Beth. What could be bad about that?"

"Daryl," Beth said tiredly, "I'm being serious. You know this baby isn't yours. You know it's -"

"I don't know that, Beth," he said, tucking a stand of sweat-damp hair behind her ear, "and I never will. You asked me to be the father, so I'm the father. I ain't pretending, or tryin' to make you feel better. I will love this baby so hard it will have my blood, and science will just have to be damned."

Beth nodded, saying nothing, leaning against Daryl's arm. She tried to take comfort in his words, but even with her eyes open, Beth could still see his vest soaked in blood being held by a hand that looked far too familiar.