Beth Greene

There's no denying she's drawing bigger crowds these days, ever since the album was officially released, and although Beth still tries to play some of the smaller venues where she first started out in Darrow, it's getting more and more difficult to keep it up. They just can't let as many people into the bar as want to be there and that's as surreal as seeing that poster of herself that she's found in the record store window that day.

She can't just abandon them, though. These bars, these people, they're why she's able to have a career as a musician and so she still plays whenever she can, but these days she just can't promote the smaller shows as much as she used to. Even without it, the bar tonight is still relatively packed and people are actually singing along with some of her songs and Beth's not sure she's ever going to get used to any of this.

It used to be she would always recognize a few faces at her shows. Carl would be there, or Kili. And then Curtis. He would never make a big deal about it, he wouldn't even always come over to say hi, but he would be there.

They're all gone now and the crowds are too big for her to expect her friends to always be there, but when she spots a familiar face somewhere near the back, Beth's smile grows. She's just about done, wrapping up her last song and then passing off her guitar for it to be put away before she hops down from the stage and weaves her way through the crowd. People stop her and say hi and tell her how much they liked the show and she thanks every single one of them, but she's headed for one person in particular.

"Hi," she says when she's close enough to Lisbeth to be heard. Her hair is damp, her forehead still sweaty from the lights and she pushes back strands that are sticking to her skin. The clothes she wears to perform are different than Lisbeth would have seen her in that first day, a little darker, a little more daring than she usually wears, but the opal Curtis had given her still glints in the hollow of her throat. That never goes anywhere.

"I thought I saw you from the stage," she continues. "How're you doin'?"

It's nice to have someone she likes to be able to arrange play dates with. Judith might be a little bit older than Catarina, but Beth doesn't think either of the little girls mind that at all. And Beth likes Magnus and Alec more than she likes a lot of the other moms of the kids from Judith's pre-school.

It's not that she doesn't like them, but she doesn't fit in with them either and she's overheard more than a few judgmental comments when they found out how old she is and what she does for a living. They think she's too young. They think it's irresponsible of her to leave Judith with a sitter when she plays shows late at night. They have a lot of opinions about Beth and as much as she would prefer to get along with them, she also doesn't want to spend time with people who don't approve of her for whatever silly reason.

So it's Magnus who's coming over instead. Magnus and Catarina. He's never judged her or made her feel like she's going to be a bad parent because of her age. She never expected to be raising Judith alone by the time she was twenty-three, but this is where they are now and she's going to do everything for her.

She's got the place cleaned up, she's got some tea ready to brew and she actually made cookies. Beth feels like she hasn't baked in ages and she's in a really good mood as she gets everything ready, waiting for Magnus to arrive.

When it comes to her own music, Beth is of two very different minds.

There's a part of herself that knows she's talented. She can write thoughtful lyrics, she can set them to interesting, intelligent melodies, and she can play nearly any instrument. Her voice is both sweet and powerful, something she can hear when she listens to herself after she's been recorded. But at the same time, she has terrible insecurities about it all, convinced she's only fooling herself, and all of this will never amount of anything resembling a career.

But here she is. This is an album, it's her album, fully finished, and it sounds good. Not only that, but people are buying it. They want to spend money on this.

Beth plays a short set, not wanting to overwhelm herself, then mostly just talks to people at the release party. It's still crazy to think they're here for her, but everyone is really friendly and happy and supportive. It relaxes Beth and by the time she realizes someone is staring at her, it's nearing the end of the party. A lot of people have left already, the bar has emptied out a bit, and she's standing alone near the stage door, off to the side and out of the way, so she can put her guitar away.

Her corners her there.

She's been watching ever since she realized he was looking at her, but only out of the corner of her eye, thinking there really wouldn't be anything to it. Guys are weird sometimes, she's used to that. It's the memory of Gorman that she's not used to, not yet, even less used to it than she is the memory of her own death. There are things she's dealt with and things she's ignored, and as he corners her in that tiny hall just beside the stage, a shiver runs up her spine and she tastes green apple candy.

Turning, Beth flashes a quick smile and tries to get past him. "Sorry, I just gotta-"

"You were really good up there," he says, stepping closer to block her way. "You've got a great voice. Great look, too."

"Thanks," she says, trying to stay bright. Her mouth is flooded with the taste of that candy Gorman had pushed between her lips and she tries not to taste it. It isn't real, she's only imagining it, but it's sweet and sticky and she licks her lips, trying to force the taste away.

"Yeah," he says, putting his arm against the wall so there's nowhere for her to go. She doesn't even have her knife. Just the guitar behind her, barely a weapon at all, especially in a space as small as this. "You're really pretty, you know. Would it kill you to look at me?"

Beth glances up, sees Gorman, no matter how impossible it is, and glances away.

"I really have to get goin'," she says, her voice coming from far away. "But thanks."

"Hey," he says, pressing closer to her. She can feel his breath on her cheek, on her neck. He's so close and she can see Gorman's face and taste the candy and she wants to scream. "C'mon, stay awhile."

Beth has no idea how it happens.

It's been a good day so far. She'd worked an early shift at On the Downbeat and after going to buy herself an iced coffee, she'd headed for the park with her notebook to sit down and write. The weather is beautiful and she finds herself a picnic table in a little bit of shade, then spreads out her book and her bag and settles in. She's not needed at home until later in the evening and she texts Jason a little while into her afternoon, asking if he wants to come meet her a little later. They can get dinner or just hang out, she doesn't have anything in particular planned, and she sets her phone aside again to wait for his response as she continues to work.

The words are coming easily today. They're not all perfect, there are plenty of half-finished songs she scraps entirely or reworks on the next page, but it's going well and she finds herself wishing she'd thought to bring her guitar. She writes down the music she thinks is going to go well with the words she's gotten down today, makes herself a promise to work on them later, then flips back to read through some of the others she's written recently.

For awhile, a lot of her songs were about Curtis. They still are sometimes, but they're different than they used to be. A little less sad, but still not quite capturing the closure she wishes she'd been able to have. It's always been like that for her, with everyone except her father. She's never been able to say goodbye and the only thing that keeps her from feeling the same way about Hershel is that little smile he had given her before he died.

She wishes she'd had that with others. She's written a few songs about it, hoping it will give her that same sense of closure with Curtis, but it's never quite come.

Still, for all she misses him, she's happy. Her life in Darrow is the only one she has and it's a good one and she's finishing up the last touches on a song about that when she looks up and sees a familiar figure not all that far away. Her heart lurches, her chest locks up, and for a moment it's a struggle to breathe. She puts down her pen, tries to convince herself it could be almost anyone, because she knows it's possible for there to be multiple people who look alike in Darrow.

But she can't make it happen, she can't really believe it. She knows him too well for that. In a second, just looking at him, she knows it's Curtis walking toward her. Only he's not really walking. There's something wrong in the way he's moving and it takes her a second to realize he's not wearing his prosthetic either.

She's frozen. He gets closer and closer and as soon as he moves from the shade of the trees across the park and into the sunlight, she knows what's wrong with him.

"No," she breathes, tears filling her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. "No, please."

This isn't the goodbye she wanted. Not with him. She had wished for something quiet and loving, like they had been, something no one else needed to see or experience, something that would be meaningful for just the two of them. Not this. Not him.

She had seen her mother and her brother like this. Her father's head. She's had nightmares of the people she loves coming back to her with dead, grey eyes and slack jaws and empty expressions, but never Curtis. He's apart from all of the awful things she left behind, he was something new, a part of a new life, and now he's shuffling toward her and his moan carries on the wind and all Beth can do is sit at her table and weep.

In the past couple of weeks, Beth has realized they're kind of at the point in their lives where all that money she's been saving up for Carl is actually going to become necessary. Or it will be, anyway, if he decides he wants to use it, which means they sort of need to talk about it.

All the major decisions she's made, quitting school and dedicating herself to music full time, they're decisions she talked through with Carl first, because it hadn't just been her life that would change if she couldn't make it work. He'd supported her through all of it, wanted her to do what she needed to, and it's paying off now. Maybe they're never going to be rich off her music, but the show at the Majestic is coming up in just a few weeks and most of the tickets have already been sold and she knows, if the show goes well, it only goes up from here.

She wants the same thing for Carl. Whatever it is he might want to do, she wants to be able to help him with that and so as she reaches for the cloth on the kitchen table and uses it to wipe Judith's hands clean of the food she'd just been stuffing into her mouth, she catches Carl's gaze and grins. If nothing else, she figures the money will be a nice surprise.

"Hey, can you put her plate in the dishwasher?" she asks. "She's covered in spaghetti sauce."

She needs to tell him about Jason, too. Judith has met him, but it's Carl who's probably going to look at him suspiciously, especially if he shows up here without Beth having mentioned him. Of course, she's pretty sure he'd never do that, but it's still a conversation that needs to be had.

It's not really late when Beth comes out of the bar carrying her guitar case. She had played earlier in the evening this time and although the sun has long since set, the streets are still relatively busy and she has to carefully make her way between people who are laughing and headed into the bar she's only just come out of. On the other side of them, she spots Edgar and immediately feels a little surge of guilt for not having seen more of him lately.

Right after Curtis disappeared, she'd avoided him for a little while, worried it would make the pain even worse to see someone who'd once been so close to him, but that's long since faded. Now she recognizes it as having been a little silly, because if anything, it should make her feel better to be around someone who'd known Curtis as well as Edgar had. He wasn't always the most forthcoming person in the world, but she'd known him well, better than most everyone else, and it's a comfort to know there's someone else who can say that, too.

But lately it hasn't even been a matter of avoidance. She's just been busy. Between work and Judith and Carl and her shows, plus the big one coming up at the Majestic, she's had a rough time keeping in touch with everyone. That's her fault, too, but she thinks she can remedy it at least a little right now.

"Hey," she says, sidestepping another couple so she's in line with Edgar. "How's it goin'?"

Weirdly, it suddenly occurs to her that she might be able to talk to him about Zhou. If anyone would know how Curtis might feel, if he'd hate her for this, it's probably Edgar.

There are days like this one, relaxed and lazy Sunday afternoons, when Beth realizes her life, with all the strangeness Darrow throws at her, is as close to the life she had back in Georgia as it's ever going to get.

Carl and Judith are out for the afternoon and even though there's still a chill in the air, the sunlight coming in through the apartment windows is warm and bright, lighting up everything in a way she feels like she hasn't seen in a long time. It's quiet and comfortable and she's not naive enough to think everything is perfect, but things are at least settled. For now.

Blue is coming over, so Beth tidies the apartment, then gets distracted by her guitar for a little while, eventually putting it aside on the couch so that she can wash some dishes and get the kettle ready in case Blue wants some tea. There's food in the fridge, snacks on the counter if they want them, and when she shoes Anthony off the table and the cat stalks haughtily off down the hall to find another beam of sunshine to sleep in, she realizes she feels pretty content.

Things aren't perfect. She misses her family and most days the loss of Curtis still feels like a hole in her chest, a piece of her that's just gone now and won't ever be coming back, but if there's one thing Beth knows she's learned how to live through, it's loss. She'll miss him and she'll go on loving him and one day she'll wake up and when she sees his sweaters in her closet or his t-shirts in her drawer, her heart won't hurt. And she'll put them away. Not yet, not today, but eventually.

At the sound of the buzzer, she's pulled out of her thoughts and she hurries over to let Blue into the building, then opens the front door of the apartment to wait for her.

Bit by bit, she's coming back around.

Beth wouldn't say she's over the things that have happened, she knows she can't say she's no longer thinking about Curtis all the time when she knows she still is, but over the past few weeks or so, things have gotten a little bit easier every day until she finds herself reaching out to people she hasn't seen as often as she knows she would like to say she has. It isn't their fault, she knows it's hers, she'd pulled away from everyone a little in the weeks after Curtis had disappeared, but it's not in her nature to be so isolated and so she knows it's time to reach out again.

She's lucky her friends are understanding, lucky they know what it's like to lose someone and don't hold it against her.

Jenny agrees to meet her easily enough and Beth suggests one of the cozier coffee shops in the city, one with big comfy chairs and hot drinks that probably have enough sugar in them to last her a whole week. There's still a significant chill in the air and where Beth might normally suggest a walk in the park or doing something fun outdoors, she thinks this is a better idea for now. It gives them a chance to really talk.

She arrives before Jenny and finds them a spot in one of the back corners, claiming the small, two person couch for them before anyone else can get it, and then she settles in to wait.

At this point, if Beth had the supplies, she would nail the apartment door shut.

They'd had warning and so they had done their best to prepare, but even so, she hadn't had any idea what it would really be like and just how much it would remind her of things she'd much rather never think about again. The final moments at the prison, the chaos and violence, the screaming and sounds of people in pain. How it had felt to be yanked away from everyone, not knowing if she would ever see them again. The fear of that loss, fear of the dead and the living alike.

The hospital.

It's more chaotic than the hospital, but that doesn't matter. It's in the lack of rules she sees the similarities, in the people who are going to spend tonight doing whatever they want without thinking even a little of others. That frightens her deeply, but she does her best not to show it. On a night like tonight, they all need to be at their best. For each other and most importantly, for Judith.

But now Beth is really wishing she'd bought some wood and nails to keep the apartment door shut. They've done their best to barricade it, the heaviest furniture pushed across the threshold, but that doesn't stop people from hammering on the door, screaming obscenities and shouting to be let in.

It's mostly for their sake Beth hopes they don't get through. The people waiting for them might not look like much at first glance, but she and Carl are both armed and have been through too much to let some coward like these people hurt either of them -- or Judith -- ever again.