Disclaimer: Copyright for The Walking Dead belongs to AMC, et al. My writing belongs to me, as do errors.

Title: "Bands"
Chapter: "Caught"

"That's why we are always going to need a generator. We'll never be able to do completely without them," Stanley was saying as Rick approached the open hood of the Tuscon where only the man's ample backside was on display.

"Geezus," Maggie's voice was slightly muffled, but Rick could still hear the irritation in her distinctive drawl. "You've got to be a friggin' computer programmer to even get inside this mother. If anything ever goes wrong with it, it'll probably be less work pull the whole block out and put in the engine of somethin' out of the 1970s!"

Stanley's surprisingly high-pitched cackle rose out of the machine at that. Rick was always surprised at how such a large guy could have such a small voice. "Now you get what I've been telling you! They are great. Unless something goes wrong – "

"– and something always goes wrong!" they finished the sentence together, their laughter mingling.

As Rick rounded the front of the vehicle both mechanics' mirthful faces came into view. They had a diagnostic box of some sort with cables that were strung down into the bowels of the Hyundai's engine. The device's power cord was run down out the front of the open hood like a thin orange tongue, and ended at a small, portable generator that Rick could now hear softly putting as is sat hidden between several of their other cars.

They saw him then and pulled out from below the hood. Stanley wiped his hands on a well-soiled grease rag that magically appeared from somewhere in his overalls. The rag next went to dab his profusely sweating brow as he extended his free hand in a greeting shake to Rick. Rick wasn't sure how it was possible, but Stanley seemed to sweat even when the temperatures were below freezing. Maggie simply wiped her hands on her jeans, and her eyes narrowed a bit as she noticed the newly acquired splashes of walker remains on the left arm of Rick's jacket.

"Had a bit of trouble this mornin', Rick?" she asked.

"Nothin' out of the ordinary. I was out back taking stock of the breach in the fence with Karen and Tyreese."

Maggie gave a quick nod of acknowledgement.

"How's it going here?"

"Maggie is a fast learner, but I shouldn't be surprised. When you grow up on farms like we did you have to know something about all the works or the operation doesn't run." If Rick recalled correctly, Stanley was from South Dakota and had been visiting his daughter and son in law in North Carolina when things went bad. He had lost his family farm as a young man in the 1980s' economic crisis and opened a service garage in his second career. All that was left were he and his grandson, but Rick could not remember the boy's name. The two shared the same dark red hair, brown eyes, and freckles spread across broad faces above gapped front teeth. The boy was about eight, and very good with the younger kids, Rick had noticed.

"Have you had a chance to talk with Noah about the next run? Do you need specific tools or supplies?"

She crinkled an eye and turned to Stanley. "How about the Jeep, and the wagon? They're the last two. Anything special?"

"Actually, yeah. The wagon has a suspension system gauge that can be oversensitive and trigger without need. Given the terrain we cover, it could give us some trouble. Can't reset it without opening the whole damn underbox." He turned to Rick. "We'll take stock. Maggie should probably go, just in case."

Rick nodded. "Okay. Plan on two days. Will this one be ready?"

"Approved it myself!" Maggie sounded proud. "So I'm drivin'!"

Rick chuckled. "You and Glenn will have to negotiate that yourselves, but I doubt he can stand up to your 'arguments'." He noticed how her diamond sparkled on her finger even in the dull light of the clouded afternoon. Glenn had tried not to brag, but the younger man had been unable to keep from beaming when Maggie had showed off the ring to Carol, Beth, and Michonne when they finally had some breathing room. The Woodbury residents had also enjoyed the normalcy of the ceremonial celebration of being engaged, as the surviving parents were able to explain to their children the rituals of commitment and family-building.

"Well, speak of the devil! It looks like we can get the decision out of the way," Stanley said, looking over Rick's shoulder.

"What decision?" Glenn asked as he came the last few steps to join them.

"It's not a decision. It's a done deal. I'm drivin' when we go on our run in two days." Maggie moved around Rick to lean into Glenn, her hand going automatically around his waist. Glenn instantly had an arm about her shoulders, locking the two into their standard formation. Rick felt a pang in his chest. He missed that. It had been months since Lori's death. During her pregnancy they had been estranged, and unable to close the distance to stand together. After he'd found her and Carl at the quarry it had been a few short weeks that they'd been able to hold onto each other before the destructive confrontation with Shane made it impossible for them to reach out.

Rick no longer needed to prove to himself that he had loved her. He finally believed, again, that she had loved him. What Hershel had said this morning returned to him. Hershel had said his wives had become part of him, and what he became because of how he loved them lived one. When the newcomers had arrived, and Lori had not appeared to him, he had finally recognized that he needed her to be a part of him, and that she could and would be. It had been the beginning of rebuilding confidence in himself. She had done that. It was what she had always done through her love. He was grateful for it, and for the time he'd had with her – even those long, lonely months.

Glenn grinned and got a wicked glint in his eye. "Oh, I'm not objecting. I love it when you drive."

Stanley's eyes got wide and he turned to Rick, with a slightly wolfish grin. Rick grinned back, and then looked over to Maggie, clearing his throat. Quickly he turned his eyes skyward, whistling a few tuneless notes. Stanley suddenly found his shirt sleeve cuffs extremely interesting and needed to dab his brow again.

Maggie raised an eyebrow, and looked pointedly at all three men in turn. "All of you had best watch out. I know the lady that washes your boxers."

With a quick kiss Glenn let her go. "I actually came to find Rick. I'll see you later."

"You hope," she said, but there was no malice in her voice.

Rick nodded to Stanley and winked at Maggie before falling into step with Glenn and heading back the way from which the younger man had come. "So, what's up?"

"I was just in talking with Noah, and he thinks that there might have been a gasoline tanker truck in Woodbury. "

"No shit."

"I know, right?"

"Did Michonne ever see it?"

"She doesn't remember anything, but that's not a guarantee. She was there less than a week with – " he let the sentence go. "And we all know she wasn't scoping out their supply lines. I asked around with a few of the other residents, but they weren't really in position to know."

Rick shook his head. He wished, not for the first time, that things had been different with Merle. This would have been something he would have known. "And you asked Stanley?"

"Not yet. But he and Eli got in even after Tyreese, so I'm betting things were on pretty tight lockdown by then."

They rounded the corner and were headed up the short stairs to the entry. "What are you thinkin'?"

Glenn pulled open the door and held it for Rick to pass in. "We don't know for sure it's there, or if it is, where. Plus, I don't have any experience driving anything like that – much less if it's not hooked up to its semi-tractor if we find it."

As the door slammed behind them they were pulled into the new sounds of what had become the prison's life. Still not loud by any means, but the low hum of habitation vibrated along the walls and chased at the corners of the high ceilings in the grander rooms.

"That doesn't sound like much of a plan."

Glenn grinned, and scoffed. "Yeah. I mean, no. Um, that is – I think we should take Stan with us. He's the one most likely to be able to deal with the vehicle parts of the issue if we actually would find it. He told Maggie he had his class A license."

The two had entered the Block C commons, and Rick pulled up. "Stan? Glenn, I don't know. The man is in his late fifties, and none too agile. Can he even use a weapon?" He gave the younger man a hard look. "Do you want to have him with you...and Maggie?"

Glenn's mouth hardened into a line and he closed his eyes for a moment before looking seriously at Rick. "I know what you're saying, but I need to trust Maggie." He paused, and his voice dropped lower. "I need to trust myself."

Rick nodded. He could understand that.

"The way I see it, Stan will be designated to stay in the vehicle at all times, unless we do manage to find this tanker. Then he still doesn't leave it unless we have an absolute certainty that we're clear to make a serious move. We only go for it if we can make it back here alive."

"You still have to ask Stan. I won't make him go. And Maggie. She has to be on board."

"Of course. We're partners in this."

"Why does Noah think there's a tanker?"

Glenn face lighted up at the question. He seemed to have been waiting for the chance to tell the story. "Woodbury was running a bunch of generators – more than it should have been able to, even with the gas stations that were within easy reach to take. The Governor had a pretty crack squad he'd send out on scavenging missions, I guess, so people believed that's where it came from. But Noah says that he and his mom never..."

Rick was still listening to Glenn as he saw movement in his periphery vision. He glanced up to the second level to see Carol coming through the double doors from D. She had a bag over her right shoulder, and that arm was across her waist, hand tucked in the opposite elbow. Her left arm was bent up, hand covering her mouth, as if she had been attempting to hide an emotion. She came to a gradual stop outside her cell, and stood there momentarily, her eyes moving up to stare first at the ceiling and then across to the high windows. Even from where he stood he could see the concern shining from their blue depths. As he watched she dropped her hand from her mouth and drew in her lower lip, as if trying to bite back tears, he thought.

He had the sudden urge to put a hand between her shoulder blades. Somehow he knew that if he moved behind her and bent his ear next to hers she'd be relieved when she turned to tell him what the problem was. He'd like to be able to do that for her. He'd press a kiss to her temple, and if she'd let him he'd put a hand around her waist and pull her back against him, resting his chin on her shoulder and holding her close until she felt better.

"Rick?"

Glenn's voice got Carol's attention, and she looked down and caught his eyes. Her expression went through a quick succession from surprise, to confusion, to...shy? She stepped into her cell, but Rick didn't miss that she looked back over her shoulder before she disappeared. He found himself liking that so much that he smiled.

"Hey. What was that?"

"What?"

Glenn narrowed his eyes and looked from Rick up to Carol's cell and back.

Rick shook his head and looked down at the floor before meeting Glenn's eye again. "She looked worried. Just wondering what might have gotten her upset."

"Do you think it was Daryl?"

Rick's mind returned to the throw down with Carl. Oh, god. That was probably it. The boy had likely gone to her to get fixed up. He'd have avoided Hershel for obvious reasons. Rick let out a sigh. He wondered, again, how best to approach his son. "Something like that."

"He's going to lose her if he doesn't move."

"Hnh. Do you think Carol is looking to hook up?"

Glenn gave an amused sound. "No, it's not like that. I just mean that Carol is special, and she deserves something special. Something more than a guy not treating her as grumpy as he does everybody else."

Rick had to chuckle at that. He had never seen any sign from the two that something had progressed beyond a close friendship, though the speculation was rampant. Daryl would be a lucky, lucky man. He ran his hand through his hair, but stopped midway.

"Glenn, would you say I have a 'Georgia white-boy-Afro'?"

"A what!?" Glenn started to laugh and then abruptly stopped and looked at him strangely. As suddenly as he'd stopped, Glenn started laughing again, harder this time. "Ah! Ha! Yeah! You so do! Ha!"

Rick grumbled. "I'm going to take care of that tonight."

"Oh my god! No! Please don't! You have got to keep it! Ha!"

"Shut up!"