(The Hospital Discount Drugs place probably doesn't have some of the things I wrote in, but unless you live in Griffin, just assume with me ;) )

And thank you beautiful reviewers, if you like this next bit it's all down to your encouragement!

There was nothing to be done but hope and pray. They sat huddled like fugitives in their trucks, waiting for Maggie and Glenn.

Rick and Hershel sat up with Daryl, who spent the rest of the night alternately coughing up blood and struggling for air.

Carol came in a little later, tears still drying on her face, after hearing the latest bout of rattling moans. She felt as useless as the rest of them.

At one point Daryl had been so white, and so still, that Rick had really thought he'd died. He'd trained his pistol on him, but Carol had thrown herself over Daryl's still form, begging him not to, because 'it doesn't matter anymore, it just doesn't matter!'

But after a tense moment Daryl had shifted an arm, opening his eyes with childish innocence and tracing their tense faces sluggishly.

"Can you hear me, boy?"

"Merle?"

"No, it's Hershel. Do you know where you are?"

"Merle. I…I couldn't find her. She was gone. She was dead already. I was too late."

Hershel shook his head tiredly.

Daryl tried to get to his feet, letting out a sharp hiss of pain. "I can't! Don't make me!"

When Hershel put out a hand to soothe him, the tracker flinched back, and immediately after, set his jaw, squinting. "Go ahead. I'll tell anyways." He never looked at Hershel, instead he looked up, as though someone was standing over him.

"Hershel?" Carol said his name like it was a question.

"There's nothing I can do, his fever is very high. He needs antibiotics, pain relief, a chest tube. Things I don't have!" It was one of the few times Hershel's voice betrayed his feelings. He passed a hand over his brow, sighing. He hated feeling useless.

Now he addressed Rick; "As much as I want us all to stay together, I truly don't feel comfortable leaving him to whatever fate will befall him without medical care." The old man met Rick's eyes soberly. "We need to get this man help."

Rick closed his eyes. He was afraid of this. He didn't like to see Daryl so…vulnerable. So unlike himself. But what about Glenn and Maggie?
"Hershel, your daughter is out there somewhere. We can't just up and leave. Can we?" Rick couldn't keep the edge of pleading from his voice. He didn't want to abandon them but dead was dead and if they could have come back, surely they would have by now.

"I would like to go into the next town in one of these trucks with Daryl and another person; I suppose either you or T-Dog. The way I see things, there are only two of you young men to protect us now, with Daryl here out of the picture at present. If he doesn't recover, we lose more than just another person. We lose one of our most reliable fighters. Now I don't think we can afford that now. I would like very much for the rest of you to stay here and wait for my daughter, and for Glenn. I know Beth won't leave without her sister, and I wouldn't either, if not for the current situation. But he's worth the trouble, I think."

"I think so too. Are you sure you want to take Daryl? Wouldn't moving him be…worse?"

"At this point, I need to monitor him constantly. If he has a seizure or his heart stops, I'd want to be there. I'll ride in the back with him."

"Okay. I'll ask T-Dog if he'd rather stay or go. And Hershel," Rick looked over his shoulder as he left, "you're a good man."

Hershel nodded.

Rick left and it was Carol's turn to speak. "I'd like to go with you, if it's all the same. I—I don't want to stay up worrying myself sick thinking about if you'll get back safe or not. If he'll—be okay," Carol nodded at Daryl's unconscious form, "and I can help you. I'm no doctor, or veterinarian, but I think you'll be able to make use of me."

Her eyes were searching and as red and watery as they were from crying, there was determination in them.

"Well, I can't stop you. Not sure I'd want to either."

Carol smiled. "Thank you."

It was decided that T-Dog would drive, with the other three in the cargo hold of Daryl's truck. Rick had spoken to him and T-Dog had volunteered before Rick could even ask the question. He said he needed something to do, and Daryl had saved his ass enough. That it was time for some payback. The way he'd come out with it made Rick certain that T-Dog would take care of the others.

The roads were clear for most of the way down. T-Dog didn't see more than two or three walkers, aimlessly shuffling, as he drove into the dawn. He was more afraid of falling asleep at the wheel than a herd right now.

The adrenaline had worn off and he longed for the days when he could have chugged an energy drink and buzzed his way through the morning.

He heard the occasional shout from the truck. It turned his stomach to hear Daryl so distressed. They weren't close, not really, but over the few months they'd been more like friends than enemies. T-Dog joined Daryl on watch from time to time and talked to him. He didn't get much back but Daryl never told him outright to leave or that he wasn't wanted. He decided they were friends, and now his friend was in agony, and going to die if he didn't help him. So here he was, thinking about Red Bull and coffee shots, and how Daryl had told him that stuff was disgusting.

The redneck that had no qualms about eating raw squirrel meat had condemned his caffeine addiction. T-Dog grinned.

It seemed they were headed for Griffin. There was a low smell on the edge of T-Dog's senses like a warning.

He didn't want to make more noise that the truck already did, but he had to ask, "okay back there?"

"Sooner we get there, the better, for all our sakes" replied Hershel.

When they were within the city limits, the scent got stronger. It was a fight not to turn away. They'd all smelled burning bodies before.

It seemed there was a pyre just past the city, leaving the whole place with that familiar stench of death and disrespect.

T-Dog swallowed his revulsion and pushed on, looking for signs of a medical center, or a hospital. The first thing he saw was a sign for a shopping center.

It could be the best they'd get.

T-Dog made a decision. The trucks were fairly secure when it came to Walkers.

He'd go in alone, armed, of course, and leave Carol in the cab. If things got bad, she could circle and wait for him. They all knew it wasn't the best plan. But it was the only plan.

T-Dog felt like he had ants crawling up his spine. He was so exposed when he removed himself from the truck and came around to open the back of it for Carol.

And that left nothing for T-Dog to do, but head into the mall for some early morning shopping.

The place was deserted as far as he could see, and usually you'd hear them before you saw them, and he couldn't hear a thing.

What he did see, in the supermarket…

Well, he'd seen shops raided and raided some himself, if it could still be called that; but this was different. This was every shelf stripped, everything gone.

He stared for a while, wondering how anyone would have the time or the energy to do this.

He checked the health aisle anyway, but it was the same as the others, stripped down to the racks.

It was bizarre. Even the clothing was all gone.

And there were no Walkers in sight. They had been burned, supposedly. No, he corrected himself; they were burning.

Which meant this was probably recent. Rick said that Daryl had mentioned the army. Was this army? Had they done this? It was certainly organized, precise.

No Walkers, no nothing. A ghost town in the most sincere way.

There was a place, the Griffin Family Medical Center, but it was as empty as the others.

T-Dog came out pensive. Maybe the military were clearing out the cities of Walkers.

Maybe enough had survived to go mobile. A little inkling, of something more than just surviving; of living again, entered his mind.

But that was a thought for later.

Now, he had a friend in need.

They left, T-Dog simply saying there was nothing in there.

After a couple minutes, it seemed they were headed for a medical district.

There were following Martin Luther King Jr. Parkway, until the regional hospital signposting went up.

Spalding Regional Wound Healing seemed the way to go. It was backed by Hospital Discount Drugs. T-Dog figured he'd ask Hershel what drugs he needed after T-Dog had found out if there were any to be had.

T-Dog drove them up as close to the door as he could, and told Carol if she saw anything, to back around into the driveway of a house they'd just passed.

He entered the building, and noticed straight away the intense quiet. It was eerie.

He squared his shoulders and went for the examinations rooms.

The first few rooms were entirely empty, but as he moved further back, some were left untouched. It seemed the army boys had had something more pressing to deal with.

There were syringes, bottles of pills, charts with symptoms and causes, sheaves of paper, wound dressings, pamphlets, in fact, fully stocked exam rooms.

"Jackpot!" T-Dog grinned widely.

He grabbed one of the pillows off of the comfy-looking bed, and proceeded to fill it with everything that looked useful.

There was more than it could fit, so he took one from anther bed and did the same.

The truck was still outside, so T-Dog brought his haul out and deposited it in Hershel's lap.

"I did good, huh doc?"

Hershel gave a look of surprise, rifling through the pillow cases.

"There's a drug store. I'll check it out and come back as soon as I can." T-Dog glanced over at Daryl, slumped against the side of the truck. "What do you need?"

"Antibiotics, whatever pain relief is there. Syringes. I could do with a chest tube and some proper suction but that's a pipe dream at best. Just bring as much as you can, I'm sure we'll make use of it."

T-Dog nodded, and jogged back into the clinic. He took the pillows he stripped, as well as two more, with him as he reached the adjoining pharmacy.

It was in disarray.

There were blood spatters here and there, a bloody drag mark. Looked like Walkers vs. commandos had gone down.

Still, there were antibiotics in one place, pain relief in another. The stronger stuff was always kept in the storeroom, so T-Dog filled a bag with various bottles and jars, syringes, and of course more bandages, plasters and sterilizer than he would have expected there to be. He grabbed as much as he could, and then surveyed the rest of the store.

There were a lot of other things left; soap, toothbrushes and paste, energy drinks and bars, supplements. T-Dog just grabbed as much as he could carry, and jogged back to the truck.

It was there. How could it be this easy? It was never easy.

"Guys, there's so much stuff!"

He realized after he'd said it, that the drivers' seat was empty. "Carol? Doc?"

The back was empty.