And now for something completely different. This idea appeared quite some time ago, but insomnia finally made it happen.

Some of this comes directly from episode 4x02 (Infected). I do not own any part of The Walking Dead, and no infringement is intended.

Oh, God.

I don't know if I can do this. How can I do this alone?

I glanced up into the rear view mirror to check on the girls. Lizzie was staring out the window, watching the Georgia countryside pass by. Mika was sleeping. While I was glad they were calm, I wasn't sure they should be. I wasn't sure I could be.

Sarah. I can't do this without you.

But I don't have a choice. Sarah's dead. She's gone, and sure as the hell that this world has become, she's not coming back. Jesus, how did this happen?

I choked back the grief that threatened to blur my vision. I had to keep it together for the girls. Keep them safe.

Without anything but the road to keep my attention, my mind returned again and again to my worst nightmare, come to life last night. I could hear Sarah screaming, and the snarls of the corpses, in a frenzy trying to reach her, pinned on the stairwell. If it had just been me, I could have gone to help, tried to save her. And if I couldn't save her, at least I'd go with her.

But the girls. Sarah'd never forgive me if I left the girls alone, even to save her. So I had to get them out and leave her behind. I left her to die.

Let it go. Don't think about it. Breathe deep. That's it. We're fishing. I'm on the boat, rocking in the waves, far enough out I can't see anything but ocean. Breathe.

"Is Mom dead?" Lizzie's voice hit me like ice water, shaking me from my mental fishing break.

I glanced into the mirror again. Mika still slept, but Lizzie's eyes met mine, wide and unblinking in that unsettling way she sometimes had. She didn't sound sad, just curious.

"Yeah, Liz. I think she is." I couldn't lie to her. She'd know.

In the mirror, I saw her nod and turn to stare out the window again.

The screaming shocks me awake, and I try not to panic when I see blood everywhere, people running, and ...oh, no. No, no, no. Walkers – inside the prison. I grab the girls and drag them to the cell block door, shoving them out to safety.

"Run! Get help!" I order them. It's probably too late for help, but at least that will get them far away from here.

Behind the stairs, Luke shrieks and scrambles away from – oh God. It's his mom Jenny, but she's dead. I grab Jenny's arm and pull her away from the boy. She attacks me instead, and she's so strong. It's taking everything I've got to keep her teeth away from me. My foot skids in a pool of blood on the floor. We end up in a heap, tangled up and struggling. Pain shoots down my neck, and I can feel every bruise and scrape from the concrete. She's all over me, grabbing and scratching. I slip again on the blood, and she lunges forward to bite my arm, sinking her teeth in and shaking it like a dog. It burns like the wound is full of acid. I know I'm screaming, but I can't stop.

Someone – Glenn? – runs up and stabs Jenny in the head. Her jaw goes slack on my arm, but it's too late now. Too late. She bit me.

Oh, God, she bit me.

"Lizzie!" I shouted, running to swing my crowbar at the closest corpse staggering toward my daughter. "Run! Get back! Stay with your sister!"

For an instant, she glared at me, but finally turned and bolted back toward the front of the house. I hefted the crowbar in my good hand and started swinging, taking out the other two corpses crowding the doorway to the kitchen. After they were dead, I waited for a moment more to see if the noise would draw out any lurkers, but everything was quiet again. My hands shook, and sweat stung my eyes. The fever was getting worse.

When I went to the living room, Mika was waiting by the door as I'd asked, but Lizzie was at the big picture window, peering outside through the curtains. I touched her shoulder, but she didn't turn.

"Lizzie, you can't do that again. If I tell you to stay somewhere, you have to do it. It's not like it was before – things aren't safe," I pleaded. I'd tried yelling, threatening, bribing...she just didn't seem to get how dangerous the world was now. In the six months since her mother died, she'd gotten...strange. "With my arm hurt this badly, it's even more important that you do as I say."

"I was just looking around." She finally turned her face to me, resentment clear on her features.

"Liz..." I knelt down to her level, though I swayed dizzily.

Suddenly, we froze. People. They were right outside. Lizzie must have seen them, but she'd said nothing.

We hurried toward the kitchen, but it was too late – the front door opened. I pushed the girls behind me and tightened my grip on the crowbar. Mika clutched at the back of my shirt, afraid. We lived every day now being afraid.

The door swung slowly open, and a man stepped quietly through, crossbow at the ready. He stilled when he caught sight of us.

"We got people," he announced softly to whoever was with him. He kept the crossbow up, but not trained directly on us.

Two more people slipped through the doorway with weapons in hand, shutting the door behind them.

"I'm Sasha," the woman offered, then gestured at the other two in turn. "Glenn. Daryl. You?"

"Ryan."

She indicated my bandaged arm. "You bit?"

"No. Cut myself on a fence. Got infected."

She considered me for a moment before asking, "Is it just the three of you?"

I hesitated. They could see how sick and weak I was. We'd been struggling for a while, and it showed. If they knew it was just us...

"It's okay," she reassured me. The smile didn't quite erase the caution in her eyes. "We're not looking to hurt anybody."

I nodded slowly. "It's just us."

The three of them looked at each other, and seemed to come to a silent decision. The guy with the crossbow stepped forward.

"How many walkers have you killed?"

I shook my head. "I don't know anymore. We avoid them when we can, but sometimes there's no choice. A lot, I guess."

He continued, "How many people have you killed?"

"Living people?" I turned away as a six month old grief surged up to choke me. "One. But I guess technically I didn't kill her. I let her die."

"Why?"

I raised my eyes to his. He'd be able to see all the pain and regret, but I just didn't care anymore. "It was the only way to keep my girls safe."

Another silent conversation happened among the three of them, then he lowered the crossbow. "We have a place. There's walls, fences. We got people. Medicine. You can come back with us if you want."

I could feel my hand shaking on the crowbar. Safety was nothing but a wild fantasy anymore. "Why should I trust you? Too good to be true and all that."

The Asian guy shrugged. "It isn't perfect, but it's safer than being out here on your own. We need people, too. You're people – and so far you seem okay." His mouth twisted in a half-grin.

We didn't really have a choice. If we didn't go with them, I was sure we'd all be dead within a week. If the infection didn't kill me, a corpse would – I was weaker every day. And the girls...kids on their own? They wouldn't have a chance. I reached out to pull Lizzie and Mika close.

I nodded. "We'll go with you."

Sharp, lancing pains start traveling up my arm and down my spine. My blood feels like it's boiling as it pumps through my veins.

Suddenly Carol is here with me, helping me up and bustling me off to one of the cells.

"Stay calm. You're all right." Her steady voice is an anchor, letting me cut through the blinding pain to focus on her. She helps me to the bed and grabs a belt. "We're going to have to amputate your arm. Stop the infection from spreading."

Her eyes. When I lose track of her voice, I find her eyes. They're clear blue and intent on what she's doing. Her movements are quick, competent, and efficient, even with all the blood and the screaming. But her eyes scare me. There's so much happening behind them.

Clear blue and intent on what she's doing...

Oh, God, my arm.

She's going to cut off my arm.

The girls scrambled out of the bed of the pickup as we rolled to a stop, staring wide-eyed around the prison. The strangers hadn't lied about the walls and fences, and the people I could see all seemed healthy and happy enough. There were even some kids running around in the grass down below. I was afraid to trust it too much, but hope flared that we might just live out the week after all. I made my way out of the back of the truck much more slowly than the girls had, joints aching and arm throbbing. The guy with the crossbow – Daryl – beckoned us to follow him up to the building.

As we approached, a woman came through the door and down the stairs. She looked our way and smiled at our escort.

I could see something pass between them – similar to the quiet communication I'd seen back at the house, but these two were on a whole different level. There was a weight to the silence that left the air thick and charged.

"Got some new folks," Daryl finally said.

"So I see." She turned, meeting my eyes and smiling warmly before turning to greet the girls. "I'm Carol. What're your names?"

Both girls clung to my sides, wary of the strangers around us. I answered for them. "These are my daughters Lizzie and Mika. I'm Ryan. Ryan Samuels."

"Well," Carol said brightly as another look passed between her and Daryl, "I expect you're hungry. Let's find you something to eat. Kitchen's this way."

She led us across the asphalt to where a dark haired woman was pushing some food around on an outdoor grill. Carol was right. We were starving, and the smell of fresh, cooked meat made my knees weak. We were given bowls heaped with way more food than we usually saw in a whole day or more. We sat at one of the tables and ate like stray dogs, which in a way, I guess we were.

Carol tipped her head toward my arm. "We have a doctor here and some others with medical training, but they're busy right now dealing with a broken leg. It was a bad break, so they might be a while. I can look at your arm if you want, but I'm not a doctor."

Her kindness made my throat tighten. "Thank you."

She talked while we ate, gently drawing the girls out of their sudden shyness. Before long, they were as talkative as they usually were and even smiling. After they finished their food, Carol gestured down the hill. "I'm pretty sure the other kids are still playing down in the lower yard. You're welcome to go meet them. They're always excited when new kids come in."

The girls, looking brighter and happier than I'd seen them in months, peered up at me with eager faces, and when I nodded, they took off down the hill at a run.

"You're good with kids," I commented.

Carol went still for a moment, then turned to me and stood. "You look exhausted. Your girls will be fine down there for a while. I can show you where you'll be staying, then we'll look at your arm."

We made our way inside the building. She pointed out different areas of the prison, explaining how things were laid out. We ended up in D-Block where she showed me to an unoccupied cell. There were several other people there going about their business, all of them looking curiously our way. Carol didn't stop to introduce us, and I was grateful. The food had helped, but between the fever and the exhaustion, I was just about dead on my feet. So to speak.

She disappeared for a few minutes while I sat on the bunk – an actual bed with blankets in a room with solid concrete walls. And outside the walls were fences protected by people. We were safe. For the first time in months, I wasn't terrified. I could let my guard down and sleep if I wanted to – rest and get well without having to worry about finding food or shelter or keeping us alive one more day. Relief surged up and swamped me. Sudden tears caught me by surprise.

When she came back with water and a first aid bag, I had my face in my hands, trying to pull myself back together. She sat beside me and put a sympathetic hand on my shaking shoulder. God, it had been so long. Ever since Sarah died, it had been me doing all the comforting, the reassuring, the protecting. I'd used up everything I had and then some trying to keep the girls alive and safe, and now this one simple, nurturing touch did more to restore me than all the rest and medicine in the world.

"It's okay," she murmured. "You're safe here. It'll be all right now."

I wiped at the tears on my face, trying to make it look less pathetic than I knew it was. "Thank you," I said, hoping she would understand how deeply I meant it. "You're very kind. Your husband's lucky to have you."

She paused, groping for words. "I'm not married...but thank you."

"Sorry," I apologized. "I thought- Well, your friend, then. Appreciate the time you have with him."

She smiled a little uncomfortably but didn't answer, a flush creeping up her neck. To keep her hands busy, she started to peel the grimy bandages from the cut on my arm.

I stilled her hands and leaned over to catch her eye. "Even the best things can be ripped away from you in a heartbeat. Don't take anything for granted."

"We have to do it now. I want you to bite this," she instructs me, holding out a wadded up rag. I stuff it in my mouth, too afraid to do anything else. Oh, God. She's going to cut off my arm. This can't be happening. How is this happening?

The knife in her hand is the biggest, sharpest knife I've ever seen. I bite down hard on the rag as she shifts me to adjust the tourniquet and start cutting, but her hands on my shoulder and head suddenly go completely still. Her face tells me everything I need to know, and despite the burning in my blood, my stomach goes cold. There's another bite.

Her hands, so brisk and efficient before...they change, soften. Wherever she touches me, the fire under my skin cools, but her hands convey her sorrow.

I'm dying.

Glenn walked me out to one of the watchtowers and asked about my experience with guns. I told him the truth – I'd done some shooting before, but not much, and not for a long time. Just inside the door to the tower, there was a small weapons stash. He selected a rifle and handed it to me after quickly reviewing the basics. My arm had healed enough that I'd be able to hold it to shoot, but not for any length of time – I was still too weak for that.

We climbed the steps and went to the outdoor walkway surrounding the tower. This was my first shift on watch, so Glenn stayed with me to answer questions and just pass the time, which I appreciated.

I'd seen him around with his wife, so I asked about her. I was surprised to hear they'd met after the walkers came. It was challenging enough to find love in the world before the walkers – it seemed so unlikely that they would find each other in this chaos. Glenn asked about the girls' mother in return, so I told him about Sarah. How we met in the checkout lane at the Winn-Dixie. About our disastrous first date that was cut short by a kitchen fire at the restaurant. Then the second date that tanked when our picnic was overrun by fire ants. And how she was willing to see the humor in it all and try again instead of taking it as a sign to stay far away from me.

It was the first time I'd talked to anyone about her in anything more than the vaguest of terms since she died. It was good to remember better times.

There was movement in the treeline. I touched Glenn's arm and pointed out the limping figure, but he chuckled.

"That's just Daryl. He goes out a lot to hunt and check the snares. Sometimes he gets into a tangle, but he's tough. He always comes back." After a pause, he added, "You're not the first person to mistake him for a walker."

He went on to tell me a story about a lost girl, a skittish horse, and a woman who was overzealous in her efforts to prove she could protect their group. I listened, but mostly I watched Daryl make his slow way up the hill, rabbits in hand.

Before he'd gotten all the way to the upper yard, Carol appeared. When she saw he was limping, she hurried forward to meet him. Even from here I could see the changes in both of them when they were together. I couldn't hear what they said, but I didn't want to. Even in a crowded room, they always gave the impression they were alone with each other, leaving me feeling like I was spying on a private conversation or intimate moment.

"It's something to see, isn't it?" Glenn asked, following my eyes to the couple below.

"Never seen anything like it," I replied honestly, not bothering to deny watching them. "I thought they were married the first time I saw them. They really aren't together?"

Glenn laughed softly. "They're together – just not in the way most people think of it."

The smell of gunpowder and blood makes my stomach roll.

"It's happening, isn't it?" I ask as she takes the belt off my arm. The pain is worsening.

"You're in shock, okay? I want you to just lay back," she says as she tries to make me more comfortable. She knows it's pointless, but she tries. She rests her cool hand on my head, and even though she's only known me a few months, it's some solace to know she cares that I'm dying.

I'm really dying.

My girls. When I'm dead, they'll be alone.

"Lizzie and Mika. You care about them. I've seen it." Something ripples behind her eyes, but I can't stop to think about that. I have to make sure the girls will be all right. There's not much time left. "They don't have anybody else. Kids on their own, they don't have a chance. Can you look out for them...like they're yours?"

"Yeah," she whispers, nodding and holding back tears of her own. "Yeah, I can. I will."

A great weight lifts off me with her promise to care for them. But as the weight lifts, agony flares. It's in my whole body now, burning me from the inside out. She tries to soothe the fire, but it's gone beyond that.

"Ryan?" Her hand strokes my face, drawing my mind back to her and away from the pain. "You're going to have to let them say goodbye. Okay?"

Oh God. How can I say goodbye? But she's right. I have to. I nod, because I can't choke out any words.

She nods back so I know she understands. "Okay."

I was about to go on my first run. This would be the first time I left the security of the prison's fences since we arrived. The thought of going out there again made me want to barf, quite frankly, but at least the girls would be safe here, and it was supposed to be an easy trip to scrounge gardening tools and supplies from one of the farms not far from here.

The girls clung to my neck as I knelt next to them on the asphalt of the courtyard. I hated leaving them, but I needed to do my part to support the community here, and I wasn't the only parent to leave a child behind to go out scavenging. They pulled back and looked at me with wide, worried eyes.

"I'll be back in a few hours, okay? Behave while I'm gone!" I told them.

One of the bustling bodies around us stopped. Carol put a hand on Mika's shoulder and crouched down beside her. "You girls can help me out today, if you want. I'm going to try making a cake for Hershel's birthday. I expect it'll be a total disaster, but what do you think? You want to help?"

Mika grinned wide, and Lizzie nodded and answered, "Yes, ma'am, thank you."

I smiled gratefully at Carol for helping to distract them from worrying about me. I got to my feet again and addressed the girls. "Make sure you mind Carol! When I get back, I'd better hear what angels you were."

"Yes, Dad, we'll be good," Mika confirmed.

I smoothed the hair on each of their heads. "Take care of your sister." They both nodded.

They went off with Carol to start their cake, and I climbed into one of the trucks. There were two pickups headed out, four people all together. I slung my arm over the back of the bench seat and watched through the back window, keeping the girls in sight for as long as possible as we drove away.

"Ain't gotta worry." Daryl's unexpected reassurance broke the heavy silence that had filled the truck's cab. "Your girls'll be fine."

"It's not them I'm worried about so much as me. If something were to happen, they don't have anybody else."

He shook his head slightly. "Nothin's gonna happen. And if it did, you got Carol lookin' out for them. They couldn't be in better hands."

Carol went away. She left to find the girls. Without her voice and her touch to ground me, there's nothing but pain. I shut everything out and try to focus on keeping calm. I have to hold on until she returns. Fishing. We're going fishing. I'm driving the boat, skipping and bouncing over the waves. There's quite a chop today. Sarah's knuckles are white as she clings to the railing, but there's a smile on her face. The girls are laughing, delighted by the rough ride. Salty ocean air pulls at my clothes as we race over the water. The sun's on my face, beating down. Hot. It's too hot. I'm burning.

"Dad?" Mika's tiny voice brings me back, but it's a long way to come. "We have to go get Dr. S."

I can hear Carol, too, but she's so far away. "Honey, he's been bit. The doctor won't help."

I can feel two little hands take mine. My girls. I'm so sorry I won't be there for you. My Mika, so gentle and sweet. And Lizzie. Oh, Lizzie.

"Take care of your sister."