"Don't be afraid," he said calmly, trying to put her at ease.

Rick's words seemed to reassure her. Shoulders that had been tense and hunched relaxed a fraction, and a moment later she relaxed with a long, slow breath. He watched as she seemed to come to a realisation, perhaps her mind slowly catching up with reality. After three other cars had passed her, someone had stopped.

He was uncomfortably aware that the others were still travelling ahead of them, and he hoped Daryl had the thought to radio them. Considering the woman before him, he carefully scanned her from the top of her head to the sole of her feet, taking note of her loose clothing and protruding collar bones. She wore only a pair of worn out jeans and threadbare sweater. Her light brown hair was matted, her skin and clothing covered in what he presumed to be Walker guts. In her grungy hands she clutched a bottle half filled with murky brown water, her fingers digging into the flimsy plastic as though she were going to drop it.

Behind him, a door opened suddenly, Daryl welding his crossbow as he stepped out. He stalked off down the road and took aim at a Walker, the bolt taking it down with a dull thud. When the car doors opened for a second time, Rick tried not to roll his eyes when Carl stepped out, quickly followed by Glenn who was scolding him. Turning back to the woman, Rick shifted his weight a little, but did not holster his gun.

"Are you alone?" he asked her.

There was a long moment before she answered, making Rick question her truthfulness. Nevertheless, she looked him straight in the eye when she nodded in confirmation.

"There's no one else out here with you?"

She shook her head this time.

His instincts trusting her answer, Rick holstered his gun and turned back to the car. He opened the trunk and looked at her over his shoulder, watching her reaction. As he began rummaging, shifting bags aside, she took another step back, distrustful. Rick understood. He remembered the first time he had laid eyes on Aaron, the absolute certainty he felt that his group were being led into a trap. Trusting another person after going through so much was difficult. Finding what he wanted, he turned around and presented her with a bottle of clean water.

The look on her face was practically comical, her eyes widening in disbelief. He critiqued her expression, seeing that she was torn between the need for clean drinking water, and her mistrust of him. She looked at the water, her hands clenched into fists as though stopping herself from reaching out for it. There was a long moment, the woman's thin fingers clenched around her current bottle of murky water. Recalling Judith's hungry cries and Aaron's jar of apple sauce, Rick opened the cap of the bottle and took a drink, demonstrating that it was safe to drink. Replacing the cap, he held it out to her again, raising his eyebrows when she didn't immediately take it.

Very slowly, she reached out and took the bottle from him. She held it in her hands, looking at it in disbelief. Relieving her of the other bottle, Rick stepped back and gave her some space. He tipped out the dirty water onto the road and then tossed the bottle into the trunk. He watched from the corner of his eye as she gratefully drank the clean water, her whole body trembling with relief. Being patient, Rick put his hands into his pockets and glanced over at the others. Daryl hovered a few yards back, keeping watch, while Glenn and Carl stood side by side near the car. Rick could tell his son was positively itching to step forward, wanting to talk to this woman, but as he had this entire trip, he toed the line.

"Take it easy," Rick instructed, seeing her coughing. "We've got plenty."

Swallowing, the woman looked at him gratefully, her chest heaving. "Thank you," she said, speaking for the first time. Her voice was hoarse, barely audible.

"You're welcome," he replied, the words automatic. "What's your name?"

The woman hesitated again, glancing between each of the four strangers. "Carlene-" she stopped herself, cringing. "Carrie."

Rick raised his eyebrows. "Which is it? Carlene or Carrie?"

Her jaw shook a little, her eyes still darting between them. "Carlene…but I go by Carrie."

Rick smiled to himself, glancing at Carl. Carlene is what Daryl had taken to calling him, at least before he allowed Jessie to cut his hair. "I'm Rick," he introduced himself. "That's Glenn and Carl. Daryl."

Carrie nodded, her hands clutching at the bottle of water. There was an awkward silence in which Glenn cleared his throat, indicating his wrist to Rick. They were wasting precious daylight.

"How long have you been out here? Alone, I mean."

"Alone?….The last date I remember is November."

"That's four months," Rick mused, looking her up and down again. "Where's your stuff? Your things?"

Licking her lips, Carrie indicated to herself. "I lost my bag a few weeks back…"

"You've got nothing?" Rick asked skeptically.

Carrie shook her head.

"You got any weapons on you?"

She nodded this time. "A knife."

Ready for anything, Rick watched as she pulled her only weapon from the pocket of her jeans. Her hands trembling, Carrie slowly handed him a blood encrusted knife. Taking it from her, Rick looked at it in disbelief, forcing himself to not laugh out loud. It was tiny…a children's knife. He looked over at Glenn and Carl, seeing their mouths agape.

"You've been gettin' around for four months…with a Dora the Explorer knife?" Rick questioned, his tone turning harsh. "How?"

Carrie cleared her throat, still clenching her hands around the water bottle. "I - I haven't had to use it too much." She gestured down at herself. "The, uh…blood keeps the Biters away. So long as I move slow, they don't bother me."

Accepting this, Rick turned back to the trunk of the car and slipped the dirty knife into a side pocket. He and Glenn shared a look, one that conveyed a great deal without words.

"You got any other weapons on you? A gun?"

"No."

"Can I check?"

Her hesitation was clearly evident. No doubt she didn't want a strange man's hands all over her, but perhaps she was desperate enough, for she slowly nodded her consent. He came and stood behind her, keeping his touches methodical and necessary. She flinched the moment his hands touched the top of her shoulders, and he felt her chest heaving as he patted her arms and sides down. Despite all that he had seen, Rick felt his stomach twisting as his hands worked, feeling her ribs and hips beneath her filthy clothing. She clearly knew what it was to go hungry. Vividly he thought of Lori, remembering the way her body drained every ounce of unnecessary fat to support her pregnancy. Despite Rick and the others sharing their rations, Lori's body had wasted away just as Carrie's appeared to have.

Getting his mind back on track, he grasped her ankle and slowly lifted her right foot, wanting to check her shoes. Well practiced in this manoeuvre, he gripped her other leg just above the knee, helping her balance as he took her shoe off. He looked inside and then checked the sole of the shoe, finding no where that she could hide anything sharp. As she slipped the shoe back on, she swayed a little, overbalancing. Carl immediately started forward, wanting to help her. Rick immediately shook his head, a quick look making his son back away. Even if she was unarmed, he didn't want his son too close to this woman. Wanting this over, he removed her other shoe and looked inside, flinching at what he saw.

The front half of the sole had almost completely worn away, exposing the foot inside to the rough and unforgiving terrain. With a short sigh, he gently lifted Carrie's foot, seeing large angry blisters on the sole. Without saying a word, he gently slipped her shoe back on and then stood up, moving back in front of her. Daryl was sitting in the passenger seat now, the radio held up to his mouth as he spoke to the others. There was a long moment of awkwardness, no one knowing what to say next. Finally Daryl got out of the car and joined them, his crossbow still by his side.

"They've stopped a mile up the road," he told Rick quietly.

"Aaron?"

Daryl shrugged, glancing at Carrie. "He ain't celebratin'…"

Rick nodded, clearing his throat as he looked back to Carrie. The decision had already been made…knowing what state this woman was in, to abandon her now would be to leave her for dead.

"I have to ask you some questions," he informed her. "Just three."

She nodded.

"How many Walkers have you killed?" he asked, clarifying when she frowned. "Dead ones."

"Lots…"

Rick nodded. "How many people have you killed?"

Her expression fell. "People?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"Yes. How many people have you killed?"

Carrie hesitated, glancing between each of them. She swallowed nervously before she slowly answered, her voice barely audible. "Four."

Rick was unsurprised. "Why did you kill them?"

"Two of them were bit," she said, her tone defensive. "They asked me to."

"And the others?"

"One was an accident," she confessed, her voice shaking. "It was dark, and we were fighting off Biters."

"And the fourth?"

"It was self defence."

Rick sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "That's for me to decide. Why did you kill them?"

Carrie bit her lip, clearly unwilling to answer. "Back in November, it was just me and one other…a group of men attacked us. Said they'd 'claimed' us…"

As she trailed off, Rick and Daryl shared a look. They were uncomfortably familiar with the group she seemed to be describing. Rick glanced at Carl, seeing that he was giving Carrie his undivided attention.

"…he took me off…he was going to rap…" Carrie trailed off, noticing Carl's devout attention. "I managed to grab a rock, and I got away."

Carl came forward, standing next to Rick. "Those men…were they like a gang or something?"

To Rick's surprise, Carrie glanced at him before answering, as though requesting permission to talk to the youngest member of their group. He nodded, wanting to hear her answer.

"Yeah…they looked like bikies."

"Was one of them a real big guy?" Carl pressed her.

Carrie nodded slowly. "Maybe…I think there was a big guy…"

Confirming the connection, Carl was shocked. No doubt he was remembering that night, an attack that two months later, he still dreamed about.

"Do you want to come with us?" Rick asked her outright, no longer wasting time. He watched as hesitation flickered across her face, and so continued. "You don't have to…We can give you a pack, some food and water. You can keep going alone, if that's what you want."

Carrie wrung her hands around the water bottle, but Rick could tell she was a little more at ease. Her shoulders were relaxed, and she stood a little straighter than she had when they had first spoken.

"What would I have to do…you know, to earn my keep?" she reluctantly asked.

Rick knew what she was getting at. "Nothing like that."

"We're not like them," Carl added, making Rick wish his son didn't understand what they were talking about. "You'll be safe with us."

Reassured, Carrie nodded. "I'll go with you. Please."

Her answer given, Rick nodded. He placed his hand on Carl's shoulder as he turned around and looked into the trunk of the car. Taking Carl's pack he started rummaging through it, looking at the clothing and then back up at Carrie. Anything belonging to he, Daryl or Glenn would be far too big on her frame. He removed a pair of Carl's jeans and then sized Carrie and Carl up, comparing them. He took an empty satchel and stuffed Carl's jeans, his clean shirt and a pair of underwear inside. There was no need to ask Carl for permission…when something was needed, it was shared freely. The clothing wasn't ideal, but nothing these days was. Finally he chose one of their unused towels and a dry wash cloth, stuffing them in too. At the last minute he grabbed the bottle of liquid soap Carol had packed for them. Slinging the satchel over his shoulder, he rounded to the back passenger door and retrieved two gallon bottles of water.

"You're going to have to clean yourself up," he told her, gesturing to the woods. "You've got to make a decent impression on Aaron…his opinion is the one that matters. Not mine."

"Okay," she quietly agreed.

"Daryl and I," Rick continued, passing him a gallon of water. "We'll come with you. Just to keep watch, that's all."

Reluctantly, Carrie nodded her agreement. There was an awkward pause before Daryl headed off towards the forest, ushering her to follow him. Rick turned to Carl and Glenn before he left. He knew Carl wasn't going to sit inside the car and wait patiently, and Rick knew when to pick his battles.

"You and Glenn keep watch," he told his son. "Just yell out if there's trouble."

Carl nodded, drawing his gun and looking for Glenn's instructions. Trusting Glenn, Rick headed off and followed Daryl and Carrie into the woods.

It was strange to feel so awake, so mindful of each and every passing moment. Carrie knew now that it had been four months since she had been alone…four months since her mind had closed down and blocked out conscious thought that was crushing her spirit. After four months of feeling and thinking almost nothing, she was suddenly awake, fully aware of every moment that passed, every motion that her body made. Rick…his request that she not be afraid had pulled her back into reality, had chased away the heavy cloud of fog that had protected her.

Although she understood why her mind had closed down, she did not feel vulnerable. A little startled to be so painfully aware of herself, yes, but vulnerable? With clarity came peace. The one thing she had desired all along, human contact, had been granted to her when she least expected it. Rick, the first person she had seen in four months, had looked upon her as a human being, and in the instant she realised that, she began to feel like one.

She was covered in rotting flesh, the gore having seeped into her very pores and become a part of her. And yet, he didn't look at her as a monster. He had given her drinking water, comforting her with the promise that she could go with him. These men probably had no idea the impact of what they were doing…Rick's request that she clean herself up signalled her greatest metamorphosis since the day she had spread the rotting flesh over her own. She wasn't just cleaning up…she was becoming herself once again. Or at least a new version of herself.

"Rick," the man named Daryl said quietly, coming to a stop.

Stopping a few feet behind him, Carrie looked between the two men, watching the way they scanned the area. She waited nervously. Though she had willingly gone with them, there was still the possibility that they were going to take advantage of her. Maybe they were just waiting until she got cleaned up, or maybe they didn't want to do it in front of the kid…Carl.

"Good sight lines here," Rick answered, looking around.

"Here too."

Apparently satisfied, Rick hung the satchel and clean towel on a tree branch. Taking the other gallon of water from Daryl, he put both of them on the ground in front of her. He looked at her cautiously now, and she could tell he was trying to reassure her, to make her feel safe.

"There's clean clothing and soap in the bag," he told her kindly, his southern accent putting her at ease. "Use as much water as you need. We've got more."

"Thank you," she said quietly.

He gave her a short nod and then walked away a few paces, turning his back on her. Though he appeared to scan the area, keeping a wide watch, he never turned to look at her. She glanced over at Daryl, who also also a few feet away, facing the opposite direction. He held his crossbow, a bolt loaded and ready, and he too gave no indication that he was going to turn around. Carrie stood there for a moment, completely exposed in the middle of the clearing, forced to trust that these men weren't going to take advantage of her.

Making a move, she opened the satchel and removed the clothing, readying it by draping it across the branch next to the towel. Judging by the size they belonged to Carl. She took out the wash cloth and bottle of liquid soap, taking one last look at the two men who stood yards apart on either side of her. Summoning all her courage, she removed her sweater and began to peel her filthy tank top over her head, dropping it to the ground beside her.

Kneeling down, she unscrewed the cap off the water and wet the cloth, doing her best to spread some moisture up and over her arms. Continually glancing up at the two men, she methodically began washing her face and arms, scrubbing hard to washing away months of dried sweat, dirt and Biter guts. Beginning to feel a little more comfortable, she looked down at her bra. Its filth was a stark contrast against the clean skin of her sternum. It was too big for her by now given how much weight she had lost in the last four months…she wondered why she even bothered wearing it. Reaching back, she unclasped the hooks and slid the straps over her shoulders.

A deep whistle startled her, and she hastily readjusted the bra, looking frantically between Rick and Daryl. She calmed a moment later, Rick giving a second whistle in response to the first. They weren't turning around to look at her, to take advantage of her…they were communicating. A few moments later there was a third whistle in the distance, probably coming from the car. Taking a deep breath, Carrie removed her bra. Her filthy hair clung to the top of her chest, the moisture making the blood and dirt run down her front and ruin her efforts.

Being generous, she poured enough water over her head to moisten her hair, and then liberally rubbed some of the liquid soap through it. Massaging it into a lather, Carrie tried not to cry out in joy…it had been so long since she had washed her hair she had forgotten how good it felt. Uncomfortably aware of her bare torso, she worked as quickly as she could, rubbing the soap through her hair and then bending forward to rinse it out. She smiled as she watched the dirt and grime running out of her hair, leaving it clean and fresh.

Getting to her feet, she took the towel and then dried herself off, gratefully pulling on the checkered shirt that had been provided for her. She didn't bother putting the dirty bra back on, figuring she could make do without it for now. Feeling better already, she shucked off her dirty jeans and then kicked them away, her old underwear following a moment later.

Another whistle startled her, this one short and sharp. She looked over at Daryl, who had his crossbow raised at something in the distance. Carrie grabbed the towel and wrapped it around her hips, watching as the trees in the distance moved.

"It's alright," Rick's voice came, reassuring her. She looked over at him, relieved to see that even though he was looking in her direction towards Daryl, he paid her no attention. "He's got it."

"What's he waiting for?" she asked, wondering what he was waiting. Daryl stood where he was, watching as the Biter suddenly appeared in the trees. It clearly had detected them, and was slowly shuffling over, the low growl permeating through the quiet woods.

"He'll wait for it to get a bit closer," Rick answered, turning back around and facing the opposite way again. "That way he can search it without leaving you and I exposed."

The explanation was fair, but Carrie didn't relax until she heard the bolt leaving the crossbow, striking the Biter in the forehead and pinning it to the tree behind. There was a moment of silence as Daryl listened for the presence of another. When he heard nothing, he let out a low whistle, indicating it was all clear. Carrie watched as he approached the Biter, scrutinising it from a distance before beginning to search the pockets. Letting out the breath she had been holding, Carrie hung the towel up again and then picked up the cloth and soap, resuming her former task.

"Anything good?" Rick asked quietly, and it took her a moment to realise he was talking to Daryl, not her.

"A knife," he replied, tucking it into his back pocket. He searched the other pockets before giving a low cry of satisfaction. "I got me some cigarettes," he declared triumphantly.

"Good for you."

"Menthols…but they'll do."

Daryl returned to his former place, his eyes trained firmly on the ground until he turned around in the opposite direction again. He reloaded his crossbow, and then slung it over his shoulder. With obvious relief, he opened the pack of cigarettes and lit one with a sigh.

"I've been meanin' to talk to you," Rick said, sounding stern all of a sudden. "Stop smoking in front of Carl."

"Why?"

"You're setting a bad example," Rick said in annoyance. "I'm sick of him asking you for one."

"He's a big boy."

"He's fourteen….I'd like for him to maintain some shred of innocence, if you don't mind."

There was a short pause, Carrie soaping up her legs. She listened to their conversation, curious that they were talking about something so normal.

"Alrigh'…don't get mad," Daryl said, sounding as though he was trying not to laugh.

"Why would I get mad?"

"Couple'a days back…I let him have one."

"You-" Rick started angrily, stopping himself with a deep breath. "You let my fourteen year old child smoke a cigarette?"

"You asked me to teach 'im things," he shrugged.

"Yeah. Hunting."

"C'mon, he was naggin' me, trying to act all tough and shit. You know what's he like."

"Yeah, I do," Rick agreed, still angry. "But that doesn't mean you can give him a cigarette."

"I did you both a favour. It was beautiful, man. I wish yah could'a seen it."

Carrie paused, looking between the two men as she dried off her legs and began to redress. Though they were at a distance from each other, their voices didn't seem to carry all that far, and they talked with ease. They had been on the road a long time, that much she could tell. They knew how to safely carry a conversation without creating too much noise.

"Seen what?"

"He didn't like it one bit, but I made him smoke the whole thing. He coughed 'till he cried, and then he puked."

Rick laughed quietly, making Carrie wish she could see the expression on his face. "Was that when you took him hunting last week?"

"Yeah, that was the day."

"Well thanks for that," Rick said sarcastically. "He puked twice that afternoon, and I'm the one who had to look after him."

"Like I said, I did yah a favour. He won't ever smoke again."

Rick appeared to falter. "He's still asking you though…"

Daryl snorted. "That's just to wind yah up. The way your face turns red and yah get all annoyed…why wouldn't he keep askin'?"

"Right."

Buttoning up the jeans, Carrie let herself relax again. The conversation between the two men had put her at even more ease, glad to hear something that sounded relatively normal. A father trying to stop his son smoking.

"I'm finished," she said quietly.

Both men turned around, Rick sending Daryl an exasperated glare. Seeing her now, cleaned up and redressed, he seemed surprised by her transformation. "Leave them," he instructed as she bent to pick up the dirty clothing. "We'll get you something decent to wear later. Shoes as well."

"Thank you."

She watched awkwardly as the two men gathered everything up for her, Rick taking the satchel, body wash and towel. Daryl picked up the empty bottles of water and then checked their surroundings, holding his crossbow ready as he lead the way back to the car. This time instead of walking behind her, Rick walked at her side. He was quiet, but she could tell he wanted to say something to her. Already she could tell that the friendly tone he spoke to his companion with would not be used on her.

"You can trust us," he said quietly, repeating what they had said earlier. "You don't have to be afraid."

"Thank you."

"Just don't mistake me for the welcome wagon," he said very seriously. "You have to earn my trust."

His words were blunt, and to the point. She didn't know what to say in response, so she settled for just nodding.

"I want to make this perfectly clear, Carrie…"

"I'm listening," she said cooperatively.

"You do anything to hurt my group…anything that hurts my son, and I won't hesitate to kill you."

Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself to look up at him. His eyes were brilliant blue, and they looked at her intensely, conveying the seriousness of what he was saying. "I understand."

He nodded, pleased by her response. They returned to the car in silence, Carrie hovering awkwardly as Rick returned the satchel to the car, rearranging everything in the trunk. The kid…Carl, approached her with a cautious smile, holding something out to her. Her jaw dropped when she saw the items, having not laid her eyes on such things in many months. A toothbrush, toothpaste and broken comb sat in his palm.

"I thought you might want these," he said politely, handing them to her. He picked up her bottle of water from where she had left it, passing that to her also.

"Thanks," she said gratefully, looking at the items.

"Carl," Rick called, placing a large plastic tub on the ground. He glanced at Carrie as he ushered his son to come back over. "Find her something to eat…something light."

Turning away, Carrie remembered how hungry she was, knowing the last she had eaten were a handful of grapes two days ago. She was no good at catching any food to eat…it was a small wonder she hadn't died of starvation just yet. Now that she had remembered, her hands trembled with hunger, and she clumsily smeared a little toothpaste onto the brush. Just as washing her hair felt amazing, so too did brushing her teeth. Anytime she had come across fresh water, she had done her best to wash her mouth out, using her fingers (whenever they were clean) or leaves to roughly wipe at her teeth. As she spat out the toothpaste and rinsed her mouth, she ran her tongue over her teeth, remembering the thousands of dollars her parents had spent on orthodontics.

She glanced back at the car, curiously trying to listen to Rick and Carl talking. Rick was rearranging the contents of the trunk, making room to pull up one of the folded down seats.

"Daryl's taking the back. You're up front, with me," Rick told him, giving a nod of approval when Carl showed him a bread roll and protein shake he had made up.

"I don't mind sitting in the back," Carl offered. "Won't Daryl be too cramped?"

Rick's response to this was too quiet for her to hear, and she quickly turned away when she realised Glenn was watching her. Finishing up, she dragged the comb through her knotted hair, trying to ignore how many of the blonde locks departed her scalp. She pulled the clumped hair from the comb and let it fall to the ground before returning it to Carl.

"Thanks again," she said quietly, handing the items back.

"That's okay," he nodded. He opened up the satchel she had used earlier and deposited the items inside. "Here…the protein shake's not very nice, but apparently they're good for you."

Carrie couldn't care how awful the protein shake was. It, combined with the slightly stale bread roll Carl gave her, looked positively mouthwatering. Not knowing what else to say, she settled for thanking him again.

"You jump in the back," Rick instructed her, holding Daryl's crossbow while he manoeuvring his long legs around the cargo to settle into the very back seat. "Passenger side."

She nodded, doing as instructed. It felt strange to open the door of a car, and even stranger to climb up the side step and settle herself onto the back seat. Nervous as to what the next few hours would bring her, she took a small sip of the protein shake and followed it with a small piece of the bread roll. Carl took the passenger seat up front, while Glenn opened the other door and sat beside her. Rick on the other hand, did not approach the empty driver's seat. Instead he fumbled around with something in the trunk, before coming around to her door.

His face was kind as he opened the door, requesting that she put her feet out. Her heart swelled as he splashed some water over her dirty feet, apologising quietly when it stung the bottom of her left foot. He had seen the state of her old sneakers, had seen the blisters that had formed when the sole of the left shoe had worn away. Taking it in his calloused hand, he slowly poured some water over the blisters before gently patting the area dry with her towel. In that moment he looked up, their eyes meeting. She could see the compassion that had driven him to help her, the kindness that hovered behind his protective nature. He looked away, and seconds later he applied a large dressing, covering the worst of the injury.

"Thank you," she said when he was finished, hoping she conveyed how grateful she was for their help. Her voice caught on the last word, and she was glad she didn't have to say anything else. The burden that had been lifted was not going to be forgotten, and she found her throat tightening with emotions she hadn't felt in a long time.

He nodded as he stood up, looking her in the eye for a moment. As though remembering something, he shrugged the brown suede jacket off his shoulders and passed it to her.

"Put this on," he requested. "Please."

Not trusting herself to speak, she just nodded her head, taking it gratefully. Though it was too large, the suede jacket was soft and warm on her, and had a comforting smell about it.

He closed the door for her, and returned to the trunk to put everything away. "Got enough room, Daryl?"

"Do now," Daryl grunted, dropping a heavy bag onto the seat between she and Glenn. He slapped his hand against the trunk window. "C'mon. Let's get this show on the road."

As Rick slammed the trunk closed, Daryl stretched his legs out as best he could. As he did so, he placed his crossbow on top of the cargo, within quick reach. Carrie began to understand why Carl had been delegated the coveted position of the front seat. From their seats, Glenn, Daryl and Rick could all see her at a quick glance, limiting any opportunities for the mistrusted passenger to cause trouble. This realisation didn't bother her as much as it might have a few minutes ago.

The four of them had done nothing to indicate that they might harm her…their behaviour had been precisely the opposite. They had gotten her cleaned up, given her food and clothing…Rick had literally given her the clothing off his back. They didn't trust her just yet, but they had proven that she could trust them.

Rick started the car, glancing to his right at Carl. "Seat belt."

"Dad…"

"Carl…"

"Are you afraid the Sheriff's Deputy is going to write you a ticket?"

Rick rolled his eyes, making Carrie think there was an inside joke. "Carl," he said sternly, handing a radio towards Glenn in the backseat.

Setting a good example, Rick buckled up his own seatbelt. She almost smiled as Carl sighed, reaching back and putting his belt on. Beside her, Glenn fiddled with the dials as Rick started driving again.

"Aaron, we're on the road again."

There was silence before the radio crackled with a response. "With a passenger?"

"Yes," Glenn replied.

When Aaron spoke next, Carrie listened carefully, remembering that this was the person she had to convince. "Rick. I trust you, but if this women murders me in my sleep, you're the first person I'm gonna bite when I turn."

A laugh rippled around the car, contrasting with Carrie's mouth that gaped in shock. They were just joking around, right? They didn't really think she was going to hurt them? They wouldn't when they saw her anyway.

"He'll keep that in mind," Glenn advised. "Just try not to make a mess of the camp, alright? Keep it neat."

A second voice came over the radio, and it was clear that the gruff voice was scolding them.

"Ladies? Shall we resume radio silence so as to conserve battery power for a…I don't know, emergency?"

Glenn laughed shortly. "Sorry Cupcake," he said down the radio.

There was a short moment of silence, before the radio crackled again. "Fuck off, Glenn. Don't make me come back there."

Glenn and Carl both burst out laughing, Rick barely managing to suppress a smile from the driver's seat. Carl turned and reached back to Glenn, giving him a high five.

"Don't," Rick started, trailing off with a short laugh. "Don't upset Abraham, or we'll all suffer."

Glenn turned to her next, reassuring her. "You can relax. Abraham's sense of humour is pretty lacking, that's all."

She just nodded, looking at Glenn's kind face. Like Rick, he gave her a comforting smile. "So, Carrie…what kind of music do you-"

"We are not listening to Daft Punk," Rick cut him off, glaring at him in the rear vision mirror. "Or Moby. Give it up, Glenn."

Carrie suppressed a laugh, amused by their banter. Sighing, Glenn rolled his eyes and retorted, he and Carl ganging up on Rick until he finally gave in. A comfortable silence fell as Carl slid the Daft Punk CD into the stereo system, apologising to his father for ganging up on him. Still a little uncertain, Carrie tucked her feet up underneath herself, keeping them warm as she pulled Rick's jacket tighter around her shoulders. The car caught up to the convoy ahead, Carrie taking note of the removal van that had driven past her. Though she struggled to stay alert, the gentle hum of the car's engine and the tyres on the road sought to lull her to sleep, and she could only resist for so long.

Resting her head against the door, Carrie closed her eyes and let genuine sleep wash over her.

Notes

Go on, feed the writer...please leave a comment.