Hello! This is my first fic on The Walking Dead and I'm excited to bring my twist to the Beth and Daryl relationship. Like most, the ending of Coda, leading to Beth's demise, was a harsh blow on my shipper heart, thus the reasoning behind me writing this! There are so many great theories on how Beth survived the bullet to the brain, making me a proud member of Team Delusional! I hope you enjoy! Thanks so much for reading!

I sit by the fire as small droplets of rain begin to fall, sending spirals of smoke into the air as the water sizzles into nonexistence from the heat. I shiver as the rain lands on me and I wish in that moment for the warmth of the fire to consume me as well.

I continue to stay planted by the fire since I have nothing else to shield me from the upcoming storm. Soon it'll be gone and I'll be left alone.

A slight warmth casts over my body and I break away from the trance the dancing flames put me under to find a blanket draped over my shoulders, shielding me from the rain. I peer up, startled to remember that I'm not alone.

For ten days, I was my only company. Then my savior came and proved to me that all life is indeed precious. I nod a thanks at the man before saying, "T-take the t-tent." I turn to return my gaze at the flames embarrassed at how long it took me to speak the sentence. The fire dwindles from the constant downpour that suddenly spews. "Come on, we can both fit," he says motioning me inside.

We clamber on into the tent, the sound of the storm strong as it shakes our measly shelter with the whipping wind. "Morgan…" I begin to talk, not really sure as to what I want to ask. Forming sentences is a struggling task, which I try to avoid at all cost. So instead of finishing it, I grab ahold of my pack, rummaging through until I find the berries I picked today. I grab a few for myself before I push the rest over to the man.

He smiles brightly at me, "Thank you, Beth." He eats graciously, savoring every last one. At first, meeting Morgan was a blessing. But as he took care of me, I started to become overwhelmed by his gratitude for every single event that crossed our path. He isn't necessarily religious, but he believes in a higher power. A higher power that I honestly lost sight of while I wandered alone through a world where I believed to be the last human alive.

That is until I ran across the walking dead.

Zombies. Ready to tear my flesh off my bones soon after I dug myself from a makeshift coffin. Whoever put me in there I have no recollection of. If they were friend or foe. My scars are the only reminders for the past life that I lived. The most distinct being the circular bullet hole on my left temple. Until Morgan came into the picture I had no one. And even after he was here, helping me recover from the wounds I obviously sustained, I was weary of him and his glowing positivity.

I couldn't understand how anyone could still hold on to hope when we're not only running from the dead, but also from the living. Humans, in the mist of the apocalypse have turned on each other. It's all about survival of the fittest. Morgan and I travel in the cover of darkness for we are just two people. But even then he remains smiling and uplifted.

Not long ago we ran into a herd of dead ones just after a larger group of people forced us out of our safe house. Their guns stayed pointed on us until we finally made it into the surrounding forest concealing us from sight. "They were nice enough to let us live" Morgan said, but I don't think he realized they just sent us into the awaiting arms of the dead, hoping they would rid of us so they didn't have to get any more blood on their hands.

Now sitting in this tent, watching Morgan once again pull out the map he's always hanging on to, I can't help but ask, "Morgan…" He looks towards me and I point at the map and ask, "What?"

He smiles again, plopping another berry into his mouth before saying, "We're not going to be alone for much longer, Beth." He hands me the map. "You can count on it." Down on the map is scrolled a message, "Sorry, I was an asshole. Come to Washington. The new world's gonna need Rick Grimes."

-§-

I sit on the deck stairs of the house we now call home, cigarette dangling from my mouth, relishing in the quiet of the morning. We arrived to Alexandria yesterday, my family finally safe, but as I take a drag of smoke, looking down the deserted street lined with houses bigger than necessary, I have to wonder if all of this is too good to be true.

I flick the ash, watching it flutter in the breeze. Shit hasn't been good for a while. It seemed like nothin' good was remotely close to coming our way. Before running into the guy named Aaron, we were a total mess.

The days seemed longer than usual, but that was because we were barely trudging along through the endless heat, dry skies and foodless forest. But the hunger pains and parched throats was nothing compared to the agony that I still don't fully understand. The one that nags at me everyday, constricting my chest with an ache so painful I can barely breath. It always leaves me craving a cigarette to shoo away the goddamn memories of the girl that we lost.

The girl that I lost.

These thoughts are what lead me to where I am now. Isolated, not even bothering to sleep inside that house. Not that I sleep after what happened. I shake those thoughts away, not wanting my nightmares to plague me while I'm awake.

I haven't let myself feel it since that day I wandered alone, slowly being consumed by the darkness, twisting and pulling, demanding to be felt. So I gave in… by using force through searing pain as I took my cigarette and held it against the top of my hand.

The pain had to be released somehow.

But still, physical pain wasn't enough.

After that, I let it all go. Grieving over what I lost. Shedding tears with choking sobs. Finally letting my sorrows be explored, which fogged my vision and clogged my thoughts, reminding me repeatedly of my failures since her death.

Failing Beth…

No. Not now.

I inhale more smoke, thankful for the distraction. I refocus my thoughts back onto this town and the concerns that have followed me since entering.

Being here is all too strange. Too sudden. I don't do well with this sort of shit. I feel like I've been transported back in time seeing these people walk around like the apocalypse never happened. Like the world didn't end months ago and crap like book clubs, parties and jobs aren't things from the past. How they've survived this long is beyond me.

As I take one last drag of the cigarette, my eyes flicker to the wall that surrounds the area. Oh yeah, they got lucky. They have an architect who put up walls high and strong enough to keep walkers at bay. But eventually, everyone's luck runs out.

I toss the cigarette under my boot, extinguishing it with a stomp. I stand grabbing ahold of my bow, when the front door opens. "Mornin'" Rick says as he closes the door quietly. It's still early, the sun still not fully raised over the horizon. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Mhm," I answer with a nod. I toss my bow on to my back and start heading down the stairs.

"You think we got a shot here?" I glance over my shoulder at Rick who looks at me expectedly. I wish I could give him an answer, one that will sway him into whatever direction he needs, but I can't. Everything has become so god damn irrelevant. I don't want to deal with the politics anymore. I'll leave it to someone else cause' the last time I was in charge someone I cared for died.

So instead, I shrug my shoulders, "I guess we'll find out." I turn away, knowing I left him disappointed. I feel his stare on me the whole walk down the street so when I take the left towards the entrance of the wall that leads outside, I feel my burdens start to fade away in the distance along with Rick. I try not to look too eager as I slip out the entrance and walk into the woods like I'm greeting an old friend.

I have come accustomed to the chaos that surrounded me after the prison was destroyed. Being in there, I feel utterly trapped. Trapped in a cycle of useless routines. Cause' walkers don't care if you made it this far or that you have solidified a position in a community. They'll rip apart anything that bleeds.

In the woods I'm in control. I don't have to worry about anyone but myself. It's just me with my bow, hunting instead of being hunted. Alone, I can take on walkers without the pressure of taking care of another. Because when it comes to my family, I'll always put them before myself. But even sometimes that ain't good enough.

So I roam in the woods alone. I track what seems to be another possum. I smirk at the thought of bringing another one into Alexandria. I think I would even crack a smile if everyone looked as horrified as the first time when I hauled one over my shoulder like it was an accessory.

I make it to a small river, skinning the possum that I finally caught up to, where I suddenly hear rustling to my left. I immediately grip my bow, arrow at the ready. The rustling grows louder from the nearby bushes and I take steps closer ready to strike. "Please, don't shoot me, Daryl." Aaron, steps slowly out of the bushes, hands raised in surrender. I sigh and drop my weapon, staring at him aggravated before returning to my possum.

"I wasn't following you." Aaron says while following me over to where I continue skinning my meal. I lift an eyebrow up indicating my thoughts and he halts his steps, letting out an airy laugh. "Well, now I am. But I wasn't…" He fumbles with his words.

"I know you weren't following me. Camps back that way…" I point east. "You came from the opposite direction."

He stares at me before smiling. "You really know you're way around." I shrug my shoulders, finishing cleaning the possum.

"You can track animals too?" His smile broadens, obviously knowing the answering seeing me skin one. I ignore him, placing the possum aside while I begin to build a fire. Aaron continues to stand and stare, unnerving me. "Well? Are you gonna gawk at me all day or…?" He seems to break out of his daze.

"Oh, jeez! Ha, Sorry." He begins to walk back to Alexandria, "Daryl…" I look at him only to have him shake his head and just says, "I'll see you later." As he leaves, I try not to think about how weird he was acting. But he obviously had more to say. Out of everyone at the safe zone, he seems to be somewhat aware of the dangers that lurk. But now I'm thinking he's just weird.

I go back to building a fire, the day now bright. I picture everyone getting ready to take on their assigned duties, all worthless in the grand scheme of things and eventually be nothin' but bad memories to remind you that life is a pile of shit.

I spend the whole day out, just roaming the woods. When I finally run across a walker, it hits me. It limps it's way around, far enough away from me that it doesn't notice my presence, but I see it. Suddenly I'm reminded of the seventeen days after… after Beth was killed.

No one attempted to talk. We were barely dragging along through another hellish day. We were hungry, tired and miserable. We blended in with the walkers. Just movin' along with no destination. Just hopin' to run into some place with food. No hope, until Aaron came and restored everyone's fate.

Except mine.

I'm still here, walking among the dead. Because ever since that goddamn day in the hospital where we got Beth back only to have her violently ripped away like some twisted joke that the universe wanted to play on me. That bullet may have hit her, but it's me who bleeds. Every thought of her, digs into my heart, painfully pushing me further away from everyone. I died that day right alongside her. And I'm not coming back.

I can't come back from it.

-§-

The nightmare comes right on schedule. I know it's one, but I can't pull myself free of its clutches.

It's start like this:

I open my eyes, blinking until my vision clears, only to reveal darkness. There seems to be no air in the confines of the space I lay. I move cautiously, my neck straining from the weight of my head. My left temple throbs at the slightest movement making me lightheaded, but I manage to lift my head. It knocks against a wood surface and my stomach drop.

There's nothing more terrifying than realizing you've been buried alive.

I scream bloody murder...

I only experience the start of the nightmare before Morgan is shaking me awake. It's hard to hide my nighttime terror when I share this minuscule tent with him. Sweat drips down my back, even though the night is crisp and the wind howls through the storm. I have to take a minute to catch my breath. "You're alright," Morgan states.

He never pushes me by asking questions. He knows well enough of the horrors I have lived. I'm even more grateful when I nod my head, assuring him I'm okay and he simply smiles and lies back to sleep. I lay down too, turning on my side curling into myself. In the beginning he would talk to me, assuring me all the things that I feared aren't actually there, but he eventually learned I don't need preaching, I just need to know I'm not alone. Over all my nightmares, being alone is the one thing that I fear. Yes, my nightmares haunt me. Flashbacks of my past, that I don't remember happening to me until I do. But as I remember some things, I seem to allude to all the people I've ever encountered.

How I've gotten to this point, lived through a bullet through the brain, digging myself out of a makeshift grave, surviving on my own for days immensely wounded, are unimaginable. But I made it. I have many scars to prove it. And the nightmares too. But looking past it all, I fought like hell to be here. There must be a reason for me still being alive and I think it has to do with whoever buried me. People cared about me, enough to give me a proper funeral. To have such people in my life must be the reason I'm so frighten at the though of being left alone.

From the start, I suspect others gave me comfort and were always they for me to rely on. I close my eyes willing the memories of the people I was with to spring fourth, but I'm left disappointed. I obviously had a family at one point? So what happened to them? Were they with me to my supposed last moment or did I lose them way before this all started?

I blow out an irritated sigh, flopping onto my back with arms crossed over my chest. I listen to the rain as it pummels the tent. The moon shines brightly through the fabric, making the world seem less haunting as it lightens the woods around us, giving us a better vantage point of shadows that may emerge from the nearby forest. Rocks uncomfortably dig into my spine that's already sporting bruises, but I don't mind the pain. It reminds me that I'm alive.

I turn my head to face Morgan, already peacefully asleep. I smile, cause I envy his ability to take on the world. He's faced difficulties too, but he fought past the demons that pulled him towards a destructive path. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be here. The wind whips louder, a rip in the tent leaking with rain. The sight of us to anyone might be sad, but to me, I'm lucky to have someone by my side.

But that doesn't stop my ambition to discover the past of mine that is doing everything to elude me. I look down at the packs at our feet where the map of Morgan's sticks out. I sit up and silently remove it opening it again to inspect it. Rick Grimes. The name for whatever reason sounds familiar and someone found him to be useful and it seems Morgan wants to find him. Hopefully, whoever Rick Grimes, he'll be able to point us in the right direction to a place we might call home.

-§-

I wake early to prepare breakfast. The rain has stopped, leaving the ground damp, but the air smells of freshly mowed grass putting me into a good mood. I hum as I work, collecting the water bottles we left out in the rain to collect more water and place one next to Morgan who still rests. I go through our packs finding a lacking supply of food.

We have some canned beans and peaches, berries collected off bushes we found yesterday and a squirrel Morgan caught. Not nearly enough to last us past today. We're going to have to go on a run. I try not to worry. Instead I open the peaches and toss some berries right into the can since we don't have any plates. It takes me some time to start a fire for the sticks I collect are as wet as the ground, but I manage a small one, enough to cook half the squirrel. As it's cooks, Morgan emerges from the tent. He brightly smiles before chugging from the water bottle. "Thanks for this," he motions at the drink, placing the cap back on. "And you're making breakfast! I'm being spoiled." He sits beside me, with a sigh as I pass him the can of peaches and berries. I've eaten my half so I motion for him to eat the rest. He takes it gratefully.

We sit in silence as he scoops up some bites but then he places the can on the ground to pull out the map. "We'll be heading to Washington, D.C. We're not far off. A little over a week or so." He tilts his head towards the sky where a few gray clouds linger, "If the weather holds up, that is… and other factors." I nod, not caring where we go as long as it's to safety. Morgan has kept us alive so far and I trust his judgment to lead us in the right direction.

If only my memories would return… then maybe I would have some inkling towards the path I'm suppose to follow. I sigh, drawing a look from Morgan. But I ignore him as I flip the squirrel, cooking it thoroughly. "The reason why I want to go to Washington… well, it's because I have a friend there." He holds out the map, pointing at the name, "Rick Grimes is a friend. And a man with a plan." He stares at the map smiling as if it holds all the answers, "It may not be much, I know. But I have a good feeling about Rick." I nod my head, not really grasping his meaning. How can one man be so important? I wish in this moment to talk.

My voice may be fine, but my head isn't. Every time I try forming a coherent sentence, it gets jumbled on the way out, leaving me blushing in frustration for failing at such a normal task.

The thought of meeting with people scares me as I picture them trying to talk to me and I stutter uselessly, embarrassing everyone in the process. Their pity, clear in their faces as they realize I've gone through something traumatic. And when they see the bullet scar on my forehead, they'll just put two and two together.

I reach for the squirrel, now cooked, and wait for it to cool before splitting it with Morgan. I will not be known by my disabilities.

So as I check to make sure the squirrel is cool enough to eat, I huff out a deep breath before tapping Morgan on the shoulder, "H-ere you… go, Morgan." Morgan's shock is evident at my sudden speech."Well now, I've never heard a nicer voice. You should use it more often." He winks, making me blush, but instead of in embarrassment, satisfaction blooms in my chest. I stumbled a little, but I got more words out at once then I've ever managed.

"W-ill you p-practice with m-me?" I make a hand motion indicating I mean talking. No way am I facing others without having some semblance of speech to communicate. And there's no one better to help me than Morgan. "It would be my absolute pleasure," He says. I smile, content even with this small achievement. To others it may seem minuscule in the big picture of things, but I don't want to be the girl other's have to take care of. I've burdened Morgan enough and will be forever grateful for all his help. But in this world, unpredictability is a usual occurrence. I don't know if I'll be alongside him forever. So I have to be prepared and this is the first step. No longer will I be a burden.

We eat the squirrel, Morgan patiently conversing with me even when my voice becomes raspy from overuse. It's nice and I feel like at this moment, I can take on the world.

Again, thank you for reading! Please, if you enjoyed let me know by reviewing, following and/or favoriting! It's highly appreciated :) I'll be back with a new chapter soon!