WHERE ARE YOU?

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It's dark when she wakes up, and she's not sure how long she's been sleeping.

She's dazed. Muddled. Bewildered. And her head feels light. She tilts her head in the pillow and stares at the drawn curtains, the bedside table, and the glass of water with dissolved pills fizzing at the bottom. Her stomach doesn't hurt anymore, but she doesn't know if that's a good or bad sign. She still feels empty. Emptied of tears and heart.

But then she feels a movement.

A breeze blows in through the open window behind the curtain, making it sway gently and allow small streams of yellow light to flow in like sunshine water. The light ghosts her cheeks and makes her feel warm, for the first time in so long, and she blinks slowly.

Sounds come from the doorway, small shuffling noises, and she tilts her head that way to see who's come to visit her this time.

It's a girl.

A girl she's never seen before at the Zone.

Through her somewhat fuzzy vision, Maggie can pick out golden yellow clumps of hair hanging from her head, but her face is a blur. She's standing in the doorway with a faded checked plaid on, her lean but powerful limbs standing out of the tight grey jeans that are hugging her legs. She looks like a deer, she thinks. What an odd thought.

Maggie's vision clears slowly, but it still has an odd dream-like quality to it, so she assumes that's just what it is.

It's basically confirmed to be a dream when the girl opens her mouth to speak.

". . . Maggie?" she calls, and her voice is soft yet hard like strengthened steel.

She sounds like her, Maggie thinks with a laugh. That gentle singsong voice that rises with the second syllable in questioning. But at the same time, it also doesn't sound like her. This girl's voice is lower. Deeper. Gritty. It sounds hardened. It's like she's been dragged through a fire and her vocals got messed up in the process. A girl of gold, and limbs, and flames. But she still sounds so much like her.

It's not unusual for Maggie to hear Beth's voice in the place of others'.

The girl calls her name again, and Maggie wonders what the stranger wants with her.

She rubs her sticky eyes and sits up. She blinks several times to fully wipe the haze over her irises away, and her lips part with disbelief as the girl's face finally comes into focus.

There's a smile on her bruised and scarred face, and splatters of dry blood paint her cheeks. Golden strands dance in the breeze blowing in from the windows, and Maggie's heart swells at the glittering of her glassy blue eyes. Her neck and jaw are awfully sharp for a girl, and her hair's fastened back in an unkempt ponytail . . . with that messy braid she didn't have at the hospital, swinging at the back like a cord of radiance.

Maggie's heart feels like it's caught in her throat, and the girl smiles wider. The streams of light from the curtains travel across the room and illuminate her blood-stained cheeks, and she remains standing there in the doorway like a ghost.

Maybe she is a ghost. That's it. But ghosts don't look that real.

Daddy never did.

They continue staring at one another. Her and the stranger that looks so much like her sister . . . until Maggie smiles too. And the warm breeze blows over her clammy neck and fills her with a sudden warmth. A healthy warmth. Everything filled with light and glitter. There's a dirty cloth tied around the girl's head ineptly, and Maggie reaches out a hand towards her in the doorway. The girl tilts her head, smile still in place, and slowly moves to come towards her because of the beckoning . . .

And Maggie hears the fragments of her heart singing, as she comes closer.

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BETH ,

It's me. Maggie. I know you're never going to get the chance to read this, and even if you could, I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. I messed up. I did. I messed up so badly, and it's because of that that this happened to you. And I wanted to write this because even though you won't ever read it, I wanted you to know that I'm sorry.

I am. I'm so, so sorry.

After I left you by the bus at the prison, I went back with Glenn. When I saw that you weren't there, I got off and went to look for you, but I couldn't find you. I looked and I looked and I LOOKED, but you weren't there.

So I thought you must be dead too.

But then we found Daryl, and he told me you'd got out, that you weren't dead, and a tiny part of me started to believe again. But despite knowing that, I still got in the truck with Abraham and headed to D.C. Because I made him a promise, and we Greenes don't go back on our promises, do we? I had a job to do so I did it, but that doesn't excuse the way I treated you. Not in a million years. And then when I thought I'd found you again and had the chance to tell you all this instead of writing it down like some pathetic poet . . . You were dead.

Only for real that time.

Do you remember those nights we used to spend lying on the hill back on the farm? We'd lie there beneath the stars and stare up at them, like they were the best kinds of wonders we'd ever see. I've been thinking about that a lot, and I probably will for the rest of my life, because those stars weren't the greatest wonders I'd ever seen . . . And do you know what was?

You.

It was you, Beth. You were, and still are, the best thing about my life, and I'm sorry that I didn't realise it sooner, because if I had I would've told you. There's so many things I would've told you if I'd known I'd have to wake up one day with you not here.

I wish you were still here. I wish you were here all the time, and it hurts so bad because it's MY fault that you're not, and no amount of times I say I'm sorry isn't going to change that. So I'll end on this note, like a pathetic, sorry poet, and totally not because I'm worried if I don't stop soon, I won't ever be able to . . .

I love you.

I love you and I'm so sorry I let this happen to you. I hope you can forgive me. And if we're lucky, maybe we'll meet again someday. Maybe we all will. You, me, Daddy, my mom and your mom, Shawn, Patricia, Otis, Jimmy . . . Maybe we'll all see each other again someday. I hope so, because I want to say all this to you, but right now I can't, so this letter will have to do.

I believe in you, Bethy. I'm sorry that it took me so long, and I'm sorry that I wasn't the sister you deserved, but I do. I believe. So this is where I should say goodbye, because I didn't get the chance to say goodbye in real life. I never would've left you there if I had the choice, but I didn't, and now what's done is done. And I'm the one who has to live with that. But I won't say goodbye, because that feels too final to me.

Instead, I'll say goodnight. That feels more right. Less harsh. Sort of gentle . . . Like morning can still come.

Goodnight, Beth Greene.
Goodnight and joy be with you, always.

MAGGIE.

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End