Disclaimer: I take no credit for this work. Characters based off of TWD (AMC) and Split (Casey Cooke is a character in the movie). Some dialogue is taken from the films.

Casey Cooke has never expected much from life, but today she figures the least life could do was cut her a little slack.

She's on her back from a supply run, barely having escaped a herd of zombies, limping towards her tent when the sky turns dark and rain begins to heavily fall down. The rain doesn't stop and a minute later she's soaked. By the time Casey stumbles towards the tent entrance, her teeth are chattering and her leg is cramping. She barely makes it into the tent.

She's only managed to bag a couple of cans of food, and she didn't find any medical supplies. She has a fever—she's been burning up for a couple of days now and she desperately needed to find medication. Instead, she found that the CVS was packed with zombies… she had barely made it out alive, but she is empty handed.

Not many people could handle being alone, especially with dangerous strangers and zombies roaming about, but Casey was used to relying solely on herself. She had always been isolated and different from her classmates—they were always safe with their friends and families. But, they couldn't see the evil hidden away behind a smiling facade. Casey could see. They never had to lie awake at night in fear of approaching footsteps… unlike her. For Casey surviving alone is nothing new. She prefers this isolation to being with her Uncle. But, on days like this, she wishes she had some help.

She plops down onto the tent floor, throws her hunting riffle aside and closes her eyes. Her ankle is throbbing. She feels hot, but she's shivering and she cannot bring herself to undress. She knows that she shouldn't fall asleep just yet—she still has to check the perimeters around her tent for any stray walkers and set up an alarm system of cans around her shelter, but Casey is now slipping in and out of consciousness.

In her eighteen years, Casey has learned that dreams only ever bring her grief, causing old wounds to reopen. Now, as she drifts asleep, memories flash before her eyes—they are so clear, so lucid that she swears that she is actually there again.

She's sitting next to her Daddy on the pier, their feet dangling over the dock. She's not afraid of darkening sky overhead or of the tumultuous waves crashing around her ankles—she feels safe with him.

He grins down at her as she throws out her fishing line. He got her a toy fishing rod for her birthday. He wasn't expecting her to catch anything in this weather, but he took her anyways.

She's leans her head onto his shoulder as she waits for a fish to bite.

She doesn't want this memory to fade… It's her happiest one.

He looks down at her and he gently pulls at one of her brown curls. She looks up at him and smiles.

She feels the memory fade and Casey wills her mind to stop it from vanishing.

Then, almost instantly a new memory snaps into place.

Her Daddy is holding a small puppy out to her, a big red bow on the dog's neck. She cradles the puppy into her arms and giggles as the dog licks her face and yaps happily. She plops down onto the floor, not letting go of the dog. She begins to cry. Her Daddy sits next to hear and he must know she's crying because she's so happy because as she presses her head against him, he chuckles and asks her what she wants to name the dog.

"Hunter."

She can hear the low rumble of his laughter vibrating in his chest, and she smiles through her tears.

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. Her ear is against his chest and she hears his heart beating.

Home is where the heart is and for Casey, home is with her Daddy. It doesn't matter where they are—in a tent on a hunting trip, in their small home, in a motel… anywhere.

A few months later, she found his body and she pressed her ear against his chest, ignoring the frantic police and paramedics around her. She willed his heart to keep beating. She didn't want him to leave her. Don't leave me alone she begged. But she didn't hear anything in return and then she was pulled away from his corpse. She began to sob.

This memory is now fading. Her Daddy is gone. In his place a new memory is forming.

She can hear his heavy footsteps approaching the bed. She squeezes her eyes shut and shuffles further under the bed.

"Casey-Bear," Her Uncle is calling her name. He's right outside the bedroom.

She knows he will find her. He always does. Tears begin to form in her eyes. Her hands begin to shake and her breathing is becoming shallow.

She hears the bedroom door squeak open. He's in the bedroom now.

"Caseyyyy," he singsongs. His voice is sweet as honey, smooth as syrup, but Casey knows better. She doesn't want his sugary words and smiles because she knows from experience that they aren't real.

He tries to be like her Daddy, but he isn't. It's wrong what he does. She knows that it's not right.

She sees his feet next to the bed, and she knows that she's been found. There aren't many places to hide.

"Casey, stop hiding. Are you crying? Come and give your Uncle a hug."

She sees his arms reach towards her and she screams.

"Sophia, sweetie. Are you in there?"

Casey jolts awake, tears fresh on her face.

"Sophia, it's mommy," the voice continues. "Sophia. We're all here, baby. It's mommy."

Casey can't tell if she's awake or asleep. Maybe this is just another dream. She can't remember what had happened last. She just remembers the dreams. Her head is throbbing, and there is an acidic taste in her dry mouth.

There's someone outside the tent and she wants to move but her body feels like led and her legs aren't quite yet ready to cooperate.

Her hand slowly reaches for her knife next to her pillow, but her fingers feel heavy. She remembers throwing her riffle across the tent from her and Casey curses for being so was stupid last night. She isn't prepared.

She hears the tent zipper slowly open and she's truly awake now. She's gripping her knife tightly now, but she waits until she sees a figure entering her tent to move from her resting position.

"Soph—

Before the intruder can get the whole word out, Casey is leaping upwards with her knife ready to slash.

"Fuckin' Christ!"

A dirty hand grabs hers in an iron grip, stopping the knife from slashing his throat. She hears a chorus of panicked voices from outside the tent, but she can only concentrate on the sudden pull she feels from her attacker. She feels weak and breathless, and Casey immediately freezes, knowing that struggling to break his grip will do nothing, not when his grip is so strong. For a second, her brown eyes met his steel-blue eyes, and Casey can tell that he's surprised to see her. Well, that made two of them—she hasn't seen a living person for a while now, not since her Uncle died. She doesn't react when he wrenches the knife from her hand. She's learned not to struggle against someone stronger. She has to be smarter, not stronger.

"You be a good girl, Casey. Be still, and don't give me any trouble." Her Uncle's voice reverberates in her thoughts as she stares into a pair of steel blue eyes. Her skin is crawling with the memory of her Uncle's hands on her. "It's almost over…"

She tries to control her desperate, ragged breathing. She's feeling faint, and she isn't sure if it's the man or the fever. She's pressed up against his chest and she can hear the man moving his lips and he must be saying something but there is only a faint ringing in her ears.

"Are you hearin' what I'm sayin', girl?"

When she doesn't respond the man snorts in derision, "you deaf?"

He pulls her out of the tent, grabbing her riffle and Casey can see that there are a few people outside. She blinks up at them, still unsteady on her feet because of her weak ankle. If the man weren't gripping her arm she would probably fall.

There's a man dressed in a sheriffs outfit and he quickly steps towards them.

"Daryl, you're scaring her."

"Whatever," Daryl snorts and with those words Casey is released from his iron grip. She stumbles forward, falling to her knees in front of the whole group. Immediately she is being helped onto her feet by the sheriff.

It's a big group, but they don't look dangerous, even though some of them are armed. There's a woman who is sobbing into the shoulder of pretty brunette and there's a young boy with the group. An Asian boy around her age, probably older, is looking curiously at her and a blonde woman is staring at her with sympathy. Another man is staring are her carefully, and Casey supposes she must look terrified. Her brown eyes wide as saucers, her dark hair matted, tangled… she probably looked like a deer in headlights.

"Sorry. We didn't mean to intrude or scare you. I'm Rick" The sheriff is holding is hand out to Casey and slowly extents her own hand to grip his.

"Casey."

"We are so sorry to have scared you Casey, but please, please…. have you seen my daughter?" The hysterical woman is now standing in front of Casey, eyes bloodshot and desperate.

"I, um… no. No one." Casey stutters out, feeling the weight of the groups' eyes on her, "sorry," she adds, feeling a pang of empathy for the woman who must have lost her child. She also wonders if the blue-eyed man is the girl's Daddy. Her own Daddy would have stopped at nothing to protect her, she's sure of it.

"You alone here?" The sheriff asks as the brunette woman pulls the mother into an embrace.

Casey just shrugs, trusting that he's not dangerous, but not wanting to give away too much information.

"We ain't got time for this. We're loosing daylight, an' we ain't gonna find Sophia at this rate. Let's go. She knows nothin'… sleepin' through the fuckin' apocalypse. We don't need dead weight—

The mother lets out a sob at Daryl's words and Casey feels a spark of anger at the redneck. She's been surviving on her own and she doesn't need him telling her she's dead weight. He knows nothing about her.

"Daryl." Rick says sharply cutting Daryl off and Daryl falls silent, eyes narrowing at Casey.

"Give Casey her weapons back," Rick commands Daryl before turning back to her, "sorry for the intrusion. Now, if you don't have a group, you are welcome to join us. We were on our way to Fort Benning, but we lost a member of the group, so we're gonna find her and be on our way."

Daryl looks like wants to argue with Rick's invitation, but he doesn't say anything. He just scowls as he tosses the riffle and knife at her feet.

"We don't want to leave you here without knowing that you'll be safe," the brunette woman adds before Casey can say anything.

It's a kind thing to say Casey thinks, but she just says, "Uh, no, thanks. I'm just gonna try my luck here."

"Are you sure, Casey?" Rick asks, "There's safety in numbers, and I can promise you, not one of us will try and hurt you."

He sounds sincere and Casey wants to believe him.

"Besides, you won't be able to hear Daryl tell his jokes if you don't come with us. You don't really want to miss that." The Asian boy adds, sending Casey a small grin.

For a second, Casey stares disbelievingly at the Asian, only to realize that he's joking, and from the death glare Daryl is sending him, he doesn't find it funny.

"Uh… I…" Casey trails off as she looks around the group again as she begins to gather her weapons. They have kind, worried faces, but she has learned that appearances can be deceiving. But she's tired and she knows that she needs help. She hasn't slept properly since her Uncle was bitten. Insomnia. Stress. Sickness. She still feels weak, like she can pass out any second now.

Maybe they can help her, if she helps them.

"I can find her." Casey blurts out, "I mean, I can try and track her," she adds quickly, not wanting to give the group false hope. "If you show me where you saw her last, even with the rain, maybe I can—

"Oh, yeah?" Daryl snaps confrontationally, "what you know bout' trackin'?"

Casey takes a quick look at Daryl, realizing that he has a crossbow in his arms now. He's holding it with authority and ease. The crossbow is not pointed at her, but she's sure that he can discharge an arrow through her skull without hesitation. He knows how to use it, just like her Uncle knew how. He probably knew how to hunt and track, like her Daddy, but Casey knows that she is also capable. She still remembers like it was yesterday what her father told her on their very first hunting trip together.

"When your aiming Casey, always keep both eyes open. Cover your target with the barrel. Then move with it to get its pace. I'm warning you, it's gonna be frustrating the first times. You're gonna shoot under it or behind it. You'll learn to stay with it," he said as he handed Casey his riffle.

"The females are smarter than the males. But you know that. It's like humans," he grinned down at her and she had laughed at his words.

"Females use their nose to stay alive. They make sure they have cover. They always remember they're trying to stay alive. Bucks go off by themselves. Bucks get dumb during mating season."

"Boys make too much noise," she giggled.

"Yes they do."

"I'm better than a boy, right?" he had asked, looking up at him.

"Yes, yes, you are," he told her, and even years later, she can still picture exactly what it looked like to see love inside his dark brown eyes.

"Probably more than you." Casey snaps back at Daryl, annoyed at his disparaging tone. Her Daddy taught her plenty about hunting and tracking. She was her father's daughter and she knew how to survive. She had to survive and she knew that this group was her best chance.

Anger and disbelief flashes in Daryl's eyes, but before he can make any other comment, Rick interrupts, "we appreciate any help. I'll introduce you properly to everyone once we get you packed up. You've already spoken to Carol, Lori, Glenn… and Daryl."

Introductions are made hastily as Rick and Shane help Casey disassemble and pack away her tent. The rest of her belongings are already stashed away in her backpack. It takes them probably five minutes at the most, but according to Daryl's snide remarks, they've been packing for at least an hour.

"Are you from around here?" Lori asks Casey as she helps her shrug on her backpack.

"I grew up a couple of towns over. I used to go hunting around these areas though."

"So you know how to use that gun?" Rick asks, shrugging at her hunting riffle.

Casey tries a weak attempt at a joke, "maybe even better than you, sheriff."

The faint sound of bells interrupts their conversation. Immediately the whole group is on edge, looking frantically around for the source of the noise.

"What direction?" Shane asks, trying to pinpoint the sound of the ringing bells.

"I think that way— I'm pretty sure." Rick says, pointing straight ahead, already starting to run towards the source.

"Damn, it's hard to tell out here," Shane grunts as the rest of the group catches up to him and Rick.

"Rick's right—there's a church a little bit further down from here. I've walked past it a few times. I know the way" Casey chimes in, hoping to be helpful.

"If we hear them, maybe Sofia did too," Carol adds hopefully.

"Someone's ringing those bells… maybe calling others," Glenn suggests.

"I don't think so. They ring constantly. It's probably a timer," Casey says quickly, pushing to the front of the group so she can lead them to the church.

"Come on, let's go" Rick says, taking the lead along side Casey.

They sprint towards the church, her in the lead along side Daryl, Shane and Rick. She still feels weak on her ankle, but the excitement and adrenalin is pushing her forwards.

She's hasn't gone into the church even though she's walked past it numerous times. There are supplies in there, she is sure and she doesn't believe in the God her father had. Casey's not religious, but she figures if there is a God, he has a lot of explaining to do. After all, she thinks, what kind of God allows innocent kids to suffer at the mercy of monsters masquerading as saints? What kind of God would let her mother die in childbirth and let her Daddy die in her arms, only a few years later?

Rick signals to the group that there are zombies inside. Casey draws her knife, ready to enter the church, but Daryl pushes her back behind him. She takes note of his eyes again—they are stone blue, cold and almost criticizing in appearance as they lock with her eyes. She's held her own against the Dead with just a knife, but she doesn't argue as he hands her his crossbow and takes her knife into the church to dispose of the zombies with Shane and Rick.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Casey wants to close her eyes and ignore the sound of skulls cracking, but she keeps her eyes trained on the men as they hack away at the zombies.

"Yo, J.C., you taking requests?" Daryl asks the icon in the center of the church after they have cleared the church.

"I'm telling you, it's the wrong church. It's got no steeple, Rick." Shane says in a hushed tone.

"This the only church in the vicinity?" Rick asks her.

Casey quietly nods her head, tucking a strand of dark brown hair back behind her ear where it had fallen from, "like I said, I think it's on a tim—

But, her words are cut snort as the bells begin to ring again and the group rushes towards the source of the sound.

She sees Glenn disabling the timer as Daryl grunts, "A timer. It's on a timer. Girls right."

"I'm gonna go back in for a bit." Carol mummers.

Casey immediately feels the group dynamic shift—exhaustion and disappointment are beginning to settle in.

Lori follows Carol into the church, Andrea peels off, and Casey, not knowing where else to go follows Daryl to a nearby tree. She is still gripping his crossbow.

Before she even walks a few yards, she sees a zombie stumbling from out of the forest. There's only one of them, and Daryl is already striding towards it with her knife, but instinct causes her to raise the crossbow and take aim.

Thunk. The arrow lodges in his throat so Casey takes aim again. With a satisfying crunch, the arrow shoots through the zombie's skull. She's a little rusty and the crossbow is too heavy for her, but it's a pretty good shot and she's grinning. Daryl's facial expression wipes the grin off of her face immediately. He grumbles something under his breath as he retrieves the two arrows before stomping over to her.

"Mind puttin' my weapon down?!" Daryl barks at her as he goes to yank the crossbow out of her arms.

"You're the one who left me with it and no other weapon." Casey grumbles, but releases the crossbow without struggle.

"It's a nice bow," she adds, hoping to soften him up—he's obviously protective of the weapon.

That seems to do the trick because Daryl just shrugs.

"S' alright" Daryl concedes, "where'd ya learn to shoot like that any how."

A small sense of accomplishment sneaks up on Casey.

"My Uncle," she answers, "he hunted with the crossbow."

"He round here or you really on your own?"

"Uh-huh," she affirms, not really wanting to talk about how she wound up alone.

"How old are you anyways?" Daryl asks, giving a look over.

Casey slightly flushes at his gaze.

"I'm eighteen."

I was supposed to be free when I turned eighteen, she wants to say. She was seventeen when the apocalypse struck. She had two more weeks until graduation and four more weeks until her birthday. She would have finally been able to leave her Uncle's home. Instead, she stayed a prisoner.

She didn't feel free when he was bitten. She didn't even feel free when she took a knife and jammed it into his eye. He was dead, but he was still with her.

Daryl squints down at her, "you really know how to track an' hunt?"

"Uh-huh," Casey affirms again.

"Alright," Daryl says as he starts to walk towards the rest of the group who is already gathering together.

"Aright," Casey echoes, and then asks, "you really know how to track too?" as she catches up with him.

He shoots her a disbelieving look, "you sassin' me, girl?"

"Just asking…"

He rolls his, muttering something under his breath as Shane and Rick begin to discuss logistics with the group.

"Ahem. Y'all gonna follow the creek bed back, okay? Daryl, you're in charge. Me and Rick, we're just gonna hang back, search this area another hour or so just to be thorough." Shane says, eying the group.

"And Casey, why don't you stay here with us—you could let us know if you see any prints that could be Sophia's." Rick adds.

"You're splitting us up, you sure?" Daryl questions.

"Yeah, we'll catch up to you." Shane responds.

Casey agrees with Daryl, but she just nods.

"I want to stay too," Carl suddenly says, looking at his Dad, "I'm her friend."

"Just be careful, okay?" Lori says after a long pause, and Carl nods, happy to be staying with his Dad.

After a couple of goodbyes, the group splits up, and Casey is left standing with Shane, Rick and Carl.

"Give me a minute," Rick says, looking at Shane.

His friend nods, and now Casey is left to sit with Shane and Carl on the church steps.

"You want me to check around the church?" Casey asks Shane.

"Nah. When Rick comes back we'll walk around together."

After that exchange, the three of them settle into silence. Casey prefers this. She's never been the loud, talkative one.

Instead, her mind drifts to one of the last days of classes before the upcoming graduation.

"Casey Cooke…" Mr. Hall, her history teacher, addresses her in a restrained tone that Casey is used to hearing from each and every one of her teachers, "we are dividing into groups of four now for the project, and I don't see you moving."

"I think I'm going to work by myself, if that's okay." Casey responds, her voice controlled, flat, and quiet.

She glances up at Mr. Hall who is standing across from her, his arms crossed, brow furrowed.

Her classmates are rolling their eyes and giving each other pointed looks. She can hear the stifled laughs around the room.

Mr. Hall clears his throat and his gaze hardens.

"No. That's not "okay." We are dividing into groups now, Casey," he repeats, uncrossing his arms as he leans into her.

The chatter in the room dies down to a mummer. No longer are the students gossiping about teachers and parties. Her classmates are sending each other glances and nudging each other—they are familiar with this routine. Casey does this at least once a week. Usually, it doesn't take long for her to be kicked out of class…10 minutes maximum.

"I don't really see the point of "dividing into groups," I'll finish faster without a group," Casey says nonchalantly, shrugging.

"Finish her, Mr. Hall!" Brendon coughs into his fist and the rest of the students erupt into another fit of laughter.

"Just don't put her into our group, please," Julia mutters and the whole class snickers.

Casey isn't affected by her classmates' mockery and vicious whispers. She's used to the occasional jabs at her expense. Some insults hurt more than others. She doesn't mind when she hears a girl make a comment about the fact that her eyes are set too far apart. She doesn't react when a classmate laughs at her outfits…"who would wear a long sleeved shirt in this summer heat... Other insults sting a little more—the ones about her family.

Mr. Hall glares disapprovingly around the room.

"Silence," he hisses at the students and the room falls silent immediately.

Mr. Hall leans shifts his weight onto his hells, and then rocks forward. He is furious.

"Miss Cooke, I am not playing this game again. Not today. Either you find a group or you walk out of the classroom and go directly to Principal O' Connor's office. It's your choice."

Casey just shrugs and begins to pack up her things, "Alright."

"Casey Cooke!" Mr. Hall barks in fury, "You have done nothing but disrupt my classroom since you arrived this morning. Leave your stuff."

"You're gonna make me leave my stuff because I wanted to work alone?"

"No. You have an issue with authority and you need to be taught respect. I'm giving you another chance—get into a group"

Casey scoffs, "I'm not gonna join a fucking group. I'm going directly to Principal O'Connor's office, just like you said."

"What is her problem," she hears Julia whisper, "she's got issues."

Mr. Hall eyes widen as Casey grabs begins to gather her things into her backpack.

"Tell Principal O'Connor that you have today and on Saturday. For 2 weeks," Mr. Hall spits out coldly, "Now, get out of my classroom."

"That's what I was trying to do," Casey mutters as she slings her backpack over her shoulder, slamming the door as she leaves the classroom.

As soon as she exits the classroom, she walks to the restroom where she sinks to the floor, closing her eyes, trying to calm her breathing. She's relieved.

She has Saturday detention and that means she won't have to spend the weekend with her Uncle.

Her thoughts are interrupted when she hears Rick approaching them.

"Get what you needed?" Shane asks

"Guess I'll find out."

With that, the four of them begin to walk into the forest.

There are no tracks to follow as they head deeper into the forest. Casey hopes that Daryl is having better luck than her… maybe they ran into Sophia on the way back to the highway. But Casey sees things like they are, not how she would want them to be. She has an honest perspective of the world. They probably aren't going to find Sophia… at least not alive.

"Did you go to school around here?" Carl asks her as they continue walking.

"Nope." Casey answers, eyes looking around, constantly searching any clue as to where Sophia went.

"Neither did I. This is kinda far from my home. Did you live around here?" Carl continues.

"Not far."

Casey senses that the kids trying to make conversation, but she's too focused on the search to throw him a bone.

"I saw you shoot that walker with Daryl's crossbow. That was pretty cool. You think you can teach me?"

"It's Daryl's crossbow. You should ask him."

Carl grimaces, "He's kinda scary."

"And I'm not?" Casey chuckles, throwing the kid a smile.

Carl grins up at her. "Nah, not really."

"Well, if I find a crossbow of my own, I'll teach you. You know how to shoot a gun?"

Carl whips his head back to where Rick is trailing behind them and then whispers to Casey, "He won't teach me. You think you could teach me that too?"

She doesn't want to make promises she can't keep, but he looks so eager.

"Yeah. I can teach you that too. My Daddy taught me to shoot when I was younger than you and I bet that you're gonna be a better shot that me."

Carl's smile is infectious and she finds herself smiling back at him.

When they hear a rustling in the bushes, she is immediately on alert, pulling her riffle into position.

The buck they see is gorgeous. She wants to pull the trigger. The shot might be worth the noise. They could use the food. If only she had Daryl's crossbow. Maybe she could find one for herself somewhere and then she could actually teach Carl how to shoot.

Rick stills her hand as Carl slowly approaches the buck.

His wonder and excitement makes Casey's mouth turn up in a smile. Her and Rick exchange a grin at Carl's delight.

Bang.

The gunshot is loud and clear.

Casey's smile fades as she sees the boy crumple.