MARCELLA WOKE WITH A GASP.

She felt like she was falling, and reached out to steady herself.

But there was nothing to catch her.

She pressed herself back into the solid mass behind her and placed her hands on the thing she was sitting on. Once she was steady, confusion filled her features.

Marcie was touching something rough, like bark.

Why was she sitting in a tree?

Then she felt the pain in her side. She assumed it was from the van, when the airbag deployed, but it was a different sort of pain. It wasn't her whole torso that hurt, it was coming from one spot.

It was familiar.

She glanced down at herself. Daryl's flannel was tied tightly around her waist, and there was a large blood stain on her side.

The sounds of groaning and fingers clawing at bark came from below. Marcie glanced down at the rotters that were trying to reach her.

Why was she here? She was in Atlanta before she passed out. She was with Daryl and Carol.

"No, no, no, no." Marcie mumbled to herself, looking around at the familiar scene.

She never made it out of that tree. She never made it off the farm.

Marcie never made it to Woodbury and found her parents.

She was back where she started.

Was it all a dream? Woodbury, the prison, Terminus all of it? It must've been.

She was still dying in that tree.

Marcie got out her butterfly knife, trying to figure out a game plan. Even if she had imagined everything after the farm, she needed to find everyone. Rick and the other, not to mention her parents.

She slowly climbed down, whimpering in pain. Marcie stared down at the walkers that were reaching for her and reached down to stab them in the head, dodging their hands.

Once they were all put down, Marcie placed her boots on the ground.

She tried not to cry. She already cried over this situation once, she wasn't gonna waste time by doing again.

The highway. That's where they went before.

Then a thought crossed her mind. To her, this all already happened. But, it didn't. So.... did they meet at the highway, or did they go somewhere else?

What if it doesn't happen they way it happened before?

Marcie glanced up towards the sky, finding the sun before choosing her direction. The highway was south of the farm.

Thank you Daryl for teaching her how to track.

No walkers crossed her path as she headed to the highway. They were all at the farm or farther north.

It took a while, limping along in pain, and she began to sweat profusely. She wasn't going to give up, not now.

She had to find her parents. To save them from the Governor.

This time, she wouldn't show mercy.

Marcie's heart soared as she spotted the railings that lined the highway. If she was lucky, they were still there.

If she was lucky, they're waiting for her.

Marcie grunted in pain as she climbed over the metal railing, her boot getting caught on the way over and she tumbled to the ground.

She laid on her back, gasping on the concrete. She didn't remember her side hurting this much before.

Marcie glanced to the side, seeing if she could spot her group from the ground with no luck. She rolled over, crying out slightly before pushing herself onto her hands and knees.

"Get up." She growled to herself.

The young woman stumbled to her feet, pressing her hand to wound, which caused more pain to radiate though her body, "Fuck."

Marcie walked down the highway until she reached that yellow car with the faded sign they made for Sophia barely visible on the windshield.

The food and drinks they left for her were gone.

Marcie's group was gone.

"No." She cried, pressing her arms into the hood of the car and laying her head on top, "No." Tears fell down her cheeks.

She was too slow. She was too late.

Andrea was in the opposite direction, if Marcie remembered correctly. She couldn't be able to catch up to her.

"Fuck." Marcie cried for another minute before standing up straight.

She needed to keep going.

The young woman began walking down the highway. She knew it was a long shot, but she wasn't ready to give up.

Marcie kept walking for hours, until the sun began to set. It was getting cooler outside, yet she was sweating profusely.

Her entire body began to ache, and Marcie knew she was going to have to rest soon.

She came across a truck that was sitting in the ditch. Marcie sat down against the tire, whimpering in pain.

She needed to make a fire and seal this wound. Marcie gathered some sticks and leaves from the ditch and dug into her pocket until she felt the cool metal of Daryl's lighter.

Once it was lit, she held her blade over the flames, trying to heat it up quickly.

With one hand, she untied the flannel from her waist. When the blade turned orange, she lifted her shirt.

Marcie was quick to drop it at the sight of the wound on her side.

It wasn't a bullet wound.

It was too large to be caused by a bullet. Marcie began to clean it away to reveal the teeth marks and the festering skin.

It was bite.

"No." More tears filled Marcie's eyes, "No, no, I was shot." She continued to clean it, hoping it was just a figment of her imagination, "No, no, no."

When was she bit? When did this happen? While she was running away from the farm? While she was trying to get into the tree?

It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

She was supposed to get to Woodbury, she was supposed to find her family.

She was supposed to reunite with Daryl.

Marcie began to sob, leaning her head back against the truck and letting the tears run down her face.

The fever had already settled in. That much she knew as she felt the chills run down her spine.

Why couldn't it have been on her arm or leg? On some body part she could cut off?

She wrapped Daryl's flannel around her shoulders, trying to warm herself up. She knew it was useless, that she didn't have much time left.

"I'm sorry." Marcie whispered, staring up at the pastel orange and blue that filled the sky.

At least she would die looking at something beautiful.

But she didn't want to die. She wanted to find her family, to protect them from what was yet to come.

"I'm not ready." Marcie whispered as her eyes fluttered shut.

Daryl stood away from the group, keeping watch after relieving Rick of his shift. He explained to the hunter what had happened to Marcie, apologising to him about losing someone he really cared about.

After Rick revealed that everyone was infected, his mind went to Marcie's body that laid in the woods. Was it now wandering the farm, looking for living flesh to consume?

The sound of branches breaking ripped Daryl away from his thoughts. He raised his crossbow, searching the darkness for any sign of danger.

It took a moment before movement caught his eyes.

A figure stumbled through the trees and Daryl began to take aim.

But the moonlight shined down on the figure's face, and Daryl lowered his crossbow. He recognised the flannel wrapped around the figure, the ripped jeans, the dark hair framing her face.

Her skin was pale, and her eyes were glazed over. They weren't the warm brown that he remembered.

"No...." Daryl dropped his crossbow, "No...."

He had really cared about this girl, and he wasn't the one to care about relationships. But her drive and caring nature made her attractive to him, some hunter from rural Georgia that hasn't been in a relationship since high school.

And now it was over, just like that.

Marcie's corpse approached him, letting out a growl and reaching for him.

He grabbed her hair, pulling it back so she couldn't bite him. But her hands grabbed at his leather vest.

But Daryl wasn't ready to let go of her yet. Emotionally.

"'M sorry."

He wasn't there to protect her. He should've forced her to go with him and Glenn.

Daryl slid his knife from its' sheath on his belt before gently stabbing the side of her head, behind her ear.

Marcie's body went limp and Daryl held her and fell to the forest floor with her. He sniffled, stroking her hair away from her face.

The hunter reached over and closed her eyelids, not wanting to see those glazed eyes. That's not how he wanted to remember them.

Once he had his own time to grieve, he lifted Marcie's body into his arms before walking towards the camp.

The next morning, when it was time to leave, Daryl stood next to a freshly dug grave that Rick spent the night digging.

Underneath the dirt was the body of someone everyone cared about deeply.

Carl helped Vivian make a grave marker for her, taking two sticks and creating a cross, using the friendship bracelet that Marcie gave him to tie the branches together.

Daryl moved over to his bike that sat on the asphalt, getting onto it before giving the grave one last look before starting the motorcycle and following the group down the road.

Away from the farm. Away from memories that would stick in his mind for years to come.

Memories that would affect his decision and emotions from here on out.

THE SOUNDS OF BEEPING ANNOYED MARCELLA.

She was in pain and just wanted to sleep.

The brunette opened her eyes and stared up at the white ceiling, confused by the lack of trees around her.

She wasn't in the woods.

Was she dreaming all of that?

Marcie glanced down at the hospital gown, even more confused than ever. How was she in a hospital? They didn't exist, not working ones anyways.

She dragged the gown up to reveal the scar from the bullet Shane shot into her and let a small sigh of relief. It wasn't a dream, that all happened. She didn't get bit, she got shot.

So how did she end up here, in a hospital?

Marcie sat up with a wince, her ribs hurting even more than before. The door across from her opened and the brunette looked around for a weapon.

"Marcie?"

She glanced up at the sound of a familiar voice.

Standing in the doorway was a small blonde with a large, stitched up cut on her cheek.

"Beth?"