New Meanings to Old Words: Safe

My favorite people in the whole wide world. How I love you. How I hope you enjoy this next lovely installment. This chapter may best be described as useful filler. Setting us up to knock us the fuck down… as Danny would probably say.

Reviewers… I feel I've lost some of you. But keep with me. I promise a pay-off is coming soon…

I thank all of you who read, all of you who review, all of you who put me on your awesome alerts. You keep my days bright and my creative juices flowing.

As always please read, review and enjoy!

~SWW

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except Callie and the crew of misfits (Danny, Miles, Jenna, Mike, Nina, Ben and Gracie).

Chapter 14: Nightmare

Callie's feet stumbled a bit on a tree root, and her wounded arm slammed rather ungracefully into a tree. Wincing she used the grumbled 'Pick up your fuckin' feet' that she heard from Daryl not far behind her to get her blood pumping and her feet moving. Pushing off of the tree she wished she could toss back a middle finger to the man glaring daggers at her back. Unfortunately her free hand was busy holding Daryl's now completely blood-soaked t-shirt to the wound on her left shoulder, and well her left arm was dangling in numb sort of place at her side. Something that really didn't sit well in Callie's stomach as she stumbled through the sun-dappled.

The rain had stopped, leaving behind a beautiful late summer day. It was like God above had flipped a switch the second that Callie was safe from being eaten by the Walker. The only thing that ruined the beauty of the moment were the sounds that had followed the departure of the rain. The moans and groans of the dead had been an unwelcome reminder of their current predicament, and had put a quick end to the moment of reprieve they thought they would have.

They stayed in the woods for only a few minutes. Callie watching as Rick stood guard over the prone form of Whitmore while Daryl gathered the rope from around the Walker tied to the base of the tree. She'd sat there, at the request of both men, her eyes flicking around the campsite. She'd watched Rick tie up Whitmore, his hands bound behind his back, and his large arms tied and held to his torso. Then she felt completely useless as Daryl slowly made his way around the camp taking out six other Walkers tied to trees.

They were making their way back to where the cars were parked. Daryl was helping Rick to drag the unconscious form of Whitmore back with them. Hoping that once he woke up he'd be able to answer a few pressing questions. Callie was at point, not for her ability to lead them or for the protection she could offer, hell she didn't even have her gun or her knife. She was at point because Daryl said he wanted to make sure her ass didn't fall down somewhere in the woods.

His famous 'not gonna carry your ass' sentiment obviously still in effect. Especially since he was currently busy helping to carry someone else's ass.

She slipped her eyes over her shoulder to look at the three men a few feet behind her. She knew she was slowing down when she saw just how close they were now. Whitmore wasn't a small man by any means. He was a bigger motherfucker than even Merle, which was why when Rick and Daryl had started dragging him she'd put a good ten to twelve feet between them easily.

Again, to the chagrin of the fussy shirtless man barking at her. 'Slow the fuck down,' Daryl had practically growled at her back as he shuffled along behind her. She'd smiled back at him then, giving him that grin that made him growl. That grin that told him she knew exactly what she was doing and was oh so happy that it was pissing him off.

Now, only fifteen minutes later, as she looked back to Rick and Daryl seeing them only a few feet away and gaining on her quickly she knew she was reaching the end of her rope. She could feel her head getting heavy, her feet sliding more than lifting along the dirt below. Those familiar little black specs were starting to invade her sight more and more, and when she would shake her head a little to clear them it would send the world into a spin that she was sure would never end.

"Still with us, Callie?" Rick said causing Callie's head to snap up from where it had fallen to her chest. She jumped a bit at the feel of his hand circling around her upper right arm.

She looked back at him confusedly, her eyes blinking rapidly for a minute. It was at that point that she realized she'd actually stopped walking, and was resting her bad left arm up against that tree that she thought she'd moved away from. She closed her eyes one more time, scrunching her face up as she willed the black dots to leave.

"Fuck, woman open your eyes!" Daryl's gruff voice echoed in her ears and her eyes shot open. Her eyes sought out those piercing blue orbs that liked so much to taunt her and she glared at him.

"I'm fine," Callie said through clenched teeth at the angry man currently working to keep a hold on the hefty unconscious man. She shifted her gaze to Rick and watched his eyes slide down to the bloody t-shirt she was holding. She watched his face contort into a mix of anger and concern. She knew his eyes weren't just looking at the blood on her, they were higher. On her neck. Settled on the very distinct scratches that went from under her left ear and disappeared under that blood-soaked cloth. "I'm fine."

"We need to hurry," Rick said lifting his gaze back up to her eyes.

"Well if we weren't carryin' this motherfucker, we'd be back by now." Daryl shot back grunting as he lifted Whimore higher. Pulling at the man's hulking arms to get his knees off the ground. Rick did the same and shot Daryl a glare. "I still think this is a bad fuckin' idea."

"I'm aware of that," Rick said shaking his head as got his grip on Whitmore readjusted. "It's not open for discussion, Daryl. We need to question him."

"We needed to feed his ass to one of those Walkers back there," Daryl said his eyes sliding towards Callie as she settled her back against the tree, a bit thankful for the break as Rick and Daryl yet again began to argue. She opened her eyes at the feel of his gaze on her, and shook her head.

"I'd be the first to agree," Callie said letting her head fall back to rest on the tree trunk currently holding her up. "If the asshole wasn't wearing a CDC badge."

"Fuck the badge," Daryl said, his eyes watching as her body shook. No matter how hard she was trying to pull off that she was fine after what had just gone down, the woman was obviously anything but. Her eyes, when they were fuckin' open, were glassy, her skin pale, and the blood pouring out of that wound in her shoulder wasn't slowing any. "Son of a bitch tried to kill you."

Daryl's eyes slid to the scratches lining her neck and his brow narrowed as he lifted his gaze back to her. The unsaid thoughts of all three of them were rolling in Callie's mind. 'Fucker may well have succeeded'.

"Really think I don't know that?" Callie shot back, grabbing on to that passionate emotional response that Daryl so easily seemed to ignite in her. She needed the painkilling effect of that rush of endorphins if she had any hope of making it out of the woods and back down to the rest of the group. Back to poor Miles. Poor Miles and his broken arm. His bit and broken arm.

Callie pushed off of the tree and stumbled a few steps forward. Miles. She needed to get back to Miles, make sure he was okay. Make sure the group wasn't pouncing on him the way they'd done with Jim back at camp.

"Miles is fine," Callie mumbled as she walked, shaking her head. Her finger tip slid over the edge of the ragged scratch at her neck and her pace picked up just a bit. "Fine. We're fine."

Behind her Daryl and Rick watched Callie stumble her way through the forest. Their eyes met over the head of the unconscious man that was held between them. It was a look filled with worry, anger, and hatred of the world that they lived in.

"Let's get back," Rick said earning a grunt and a nod from Daryl. They began to follow behind Callie, her pace still slow and unsteady as her legs shook under her with each step. Rick's gaze slid to Daryl again, watching as the other man's eyes stayed on Callie's back, his jaw clenched in frustration. "She'll be fine." Daryl's eyes didn't move, the only indication that he even heard Rick was the tightening of his jaw muscles. "She's fine."

"She better fuckin' be." Daryl said as they made their way to the forest.

Callie stumbled a few more steps and let out a happy little sigh as her eyes finally took in the full sunlight up ahead. Even the eerie sight of the 'car mote' wasn't going to derail her happy-happy feeling. As her feet hit the familiar surface of the highway she practically fell atop the hood of a nearby car. Her eyes swam a bit, but she shook her head, letting the relief of being safe and out of the woods give her a renewed strength.

They had ended up between where the Hummer and Jim's truck still sat, and where the RV and the rest of the camp was settled. Her eyes flew to the RV, spotting Dale's familiar form atop it, his binoculars fixed on her. The smile on her lips was big when she turned at the sound of Daryl and Rick setting foot on the asphalt behind her.

Shane was running at them now, the rest of the crew following not far behind. Callie felt a hand on her the small of her back and turned to see Daryl nodding his head towards the RV. She nodded and picked up her fuckin' feet. Her eyes were searching around for Miles as she, Rick and Daryl worked their way through the 'car mote' to the rest of the group.

"Jesus!" Shane had hurtled over the hood of a nearby car, sliding on the top like he was one of the fucking Dukes of Hazard, and was rushing up to Callie. His hands shot out, grabbing her by her upper arms causing her to wince. He removed his hand from her wounded left arm and shot a worried look to her face. "What happened?" His eyes moved to Rick and Daryl dragging Whitmore through the cars.

"Nothing good," Callie said letting herself fall forward a bit. Shane's grip on her arm tightened and his gaze slipped back to her.

"Can you walk?" Shane asked to Callie, those worried eyes once again falling to her. His eyes moved to the shirt, then a bit higher, and his hands let go of her just a bit at the sight of those scratch marks. Her head lifted and she nodded twice removing herself from his now limp grip.

"Miles!" Callie began to move forward catching the eye of Jenna as she left Andrea's side. She ran past the reaching arms of Lori who noticed what Shane had noticed on Callie's neck.

"Who is he?" Shane asked his eyes going to Rick as he took Daryl's place holding up the man in the Army fatigues. Sticky red blood had dried on the side of his head now, settled into the growth of his graying black beard.

"He's from the CDC," Rick said quietly watching as Daryl's eyes moved to his for an instant. "He's the one that attacked Miles and Callie." Rick's eyes swept the crowd, everyone hesitantly looking at Callie as she smiled at Jenna reassuring the girl that she was okay. Off a bit, Ben sat with Gracie, Glenn holding a hand to the boy's shoulder to keep him near.

No one had missed the bite mark on Miles' battered and broken left arm when Glenn had brought him back. No one had missed the scratch marks on Callie's neck as she held a t-shirt to the gaping wound still pouring blood down the front of her. Rick's eyes slipped to Daryl's as the man ran a tired hand down his face. Daryl bit at the inside of his cheek then turned and started towards where Jenna was trying to help Callie towards the RV.

"Rick," Shane started, but Rick shook his head as he and Shane began to drag Whitmore along towards the road.

"Don't," Rick said his eyes connecting with Lori's. Her hands were on Carl's shoulders, her fingers tightened in the boy's shirt as he watched his father approach.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Lori asked as he passed, her eyes sliding to the RV where Jenna was taking Callie. "Rick?"

"All I know is we need to know more before we make any decisions." Rick said as he looked to Shane now helping him move Whitmore towards a bank of cars far enough away from the group. Rick and Shane let the man fall, each one looking down at the slumped form of the man wearing Army fatigues.

"Rick," Shane's voice was quiet, and as Rick looked over at his friend he could see the discomfort in his eyes. "Miles is bit. Callie is scratched. If you say it was this son of a bitch," Shane shook his head. "What if he's infected?"

Rick opened his mouth to respond, to tell Shane that he didn't know what the hell they would do. That he didn't want to think about what they would have to do. Just as his eyes met those of his worried, his justifiably worried friend, Callie's voice broke the air around them.

"What do you mean he didn't come back yet?"

"Danny, come back," Dale's voice crackled low over the radio. The voice had been sounding for the past thirty minutes now, muffled by the speaker's placement against his ass cheek.

Danny once again ignored the imploring sound in that muffled, static filled transmission. The rain had stopped at the same time as he found this place, a quick rain storm that had plastered his hair to his forehead, and his shirt to his back. But somehow the ground below had sucked up that little bit of water leaving nothing but the dry earth to crunch below his feet.

"Danny, come on son, give us some indication that you're okay." Again Dale's voice. Again going unanswered.

Danny's eyes scanned the area around him. Tents. Body parts sticking out of the ominously unzipped flaps. Men and women in military fatigues hanging upside down from trees. Slumped bodies tied to the bases of trees. Danny let his feet crunch along the small worn path below his feet. A path created by someone who had paced between each of these bodies too many times to count.

His eyes slid over the slightly decaying flesh of the bodies tied to the base of the trees, his mind going hundreds upon hundreds of miles a minute. What fresh hell was this?

"Danny," This time Rick's voice, louder more urgent than Dale's clipped over the radio. "Danny you need to respond. It's not safe. Come back."

Danny let a small smile ride at his lips. Safe. Really was anywhere safe.

His eyes slid to the base of a tree directly in front of him. A black converse sneaker tilted at an awkward angle was attached to a leg that appeared to be broken nearly all the way off. As he got closer he realized that the leg wasn't broken, it was simply eaten away. The bone clearly visible, the knee joint turned at a different angle so that whatever had eaten away at the bottom half could reach the meat at the back of the calf.

Black converse sneakers peaked out of a pair of tattered jeans on the other leg. The torso of the body was tied to the tree with three wide rings of rope. Long hair matted with leaves, dirt, and blood blocked the view of the rest of the body. But Danny didn't really need to see anything else.

Lowering himself to his knees before the body Danny cupped his left hand over his dry mouth. His fingers scratching over his own stubble covered cheeks as he stared at that gangly looking hair hanging down and touching the thighs of the body.

Danny knew that hair. He'd run his fingers though it so often, let his face slide along it's silken strands, inhaled its sweet scent so many times before that he'd never be able to forget it.

"Danny," Rick's voice again. "Callie and Miles are hurt." Danny's jaw clenched and his hand tightened around his mouth. He'd heard screaming, but he'd figured it was in his head. His eyes flicked over his shoulder towards where he knew the highway was.

"It's not safe, Danny." Rick's voice clipped, urgent, and filled with static as the battery of Danny's radio beeped a low battery warning sounded in the otherwise silent forest around him. Danny's eyes skimmed the trees, the bodies, the tents, and finally landed back on that matted hair.

Slowly, the hair began to move, and Danny knew that it wasn't from wind. There was no wind in this hell. Just the stank putrid smell of decay, and the heat of a day Danny would never forget. The hair moved a bit more, the head of the Walker sliding from left to right as it struggled to lift its head.

Eyes that he knew so well slanted up to him. Dead. A mouth that he'd kissed thousands of times snarled out. The usually soft supple skin purple and decaying. Danny's cupped hand on his mouth fell to his thigh as he sat there on his knees before her.

"Oh Leslie," Danny said shaking his head and feeling the tears slide down his cheeks. "What the hell happened to you?" His eyes searched the area again. That well worn path that he'd been following since he'd first stumbled upon those black converse sneakers. Since he first realized that it was Leslie, his high school sweetheart, wife, mother of his child, and worst damn enemy, tied to that fucking tree.

He'd circled the tents, the bodies everything three times, finally making back to his wife. Ex-wife. He wasn't here. Jake wasn't anywhere in this hellish clearing. Not in a tent. Not hanging from a tree. Not tied to the base of one. He wasn't anywhere to be found.

"Where is he?" Danny whispered to Leslie as she snapped her jaws at him. Her dead eyes stared at him, and his eyes slid to the gaping wounds in her stomach and shoulder. "What the hell happened up here?"

Static sounded. A beep. And in the distance moans and groans began to echo from all around him as the Walkers secured to the base of nearly every tree around him began to move.

"Danny, there are Walkers out there." Rick's voice came over once more. Another beep followed the static-filled transmission. Danny's hand reached back to his back pocket and he pulled the dying radio from it.

The Walker that used to be his wife was snapping her jaws at him, her arms trying to reach out at him from their rope prison. He lifted his right hand and wagged a finger of chiding at his ex-wife's undead form, clucking his tongue. Lifting the radio to his lips with his left hand, eyes still on the undead thing before him he smiled.

"Tell me something I don't know, Rick." Danny said into the radio. The battery beeped again, and Danny chucked it to the side. Looking at his undead ex-wife he pulled his shotgun from its place at his back and aimed it at the her head. She snapped, he smirked, and raised the gun. "Honey, you would be throwing a bitch-fit if you knew I was the one who got to do this."

Callie's eyes closed tight against the pull of the throbbing pain in her left shoulder. Slowly she let her eyes blink back into consciousness. Yet again she found herself settled upon a cushioned mattress, sun blinding her newly opened eyes a bit as it filtered in through the windows. This time however her surroundings were not unknown. This time her eyes were met with the familiar setting of the small back bedroom in Dale's big ass RV. Voices sounding from just beyond the open door, had her eyes opening all the way.

"Here," Dale's voice sounded tired and worried. "Carol grabbed these."

"Thanks," Daryl's voice was even more tired. Callie's eyes closed again, and as she made to move to sit up she noticed that yet again she was naked. Well shirtless. Her bra strap was cut through on the left side, whether from the cut Whitmore inflicted she wasn't quite sure. The strap on the right was still intact as were the bandages around her rib cage.

Vaguely she remembered Jenna helping her into the RV, after she'd yelled out about Danny not being back yet. She remembered Andrea helping to lay her down on the bed in the back and stripped her out of her blood soaked tank top. Her eyes shifted a bit to the bed that she'd seen Miles laying in when she had first arrived. It was empty now, the covers rumpled and blood flecked with a bit of what she could only assume was blood.

She remembered Daryl.

He had come in, and cleaned off her wound with a gentleness and care that she hadn't given the man credit for having. Rick had wandered in and said they'd heard from Danny. It was about then that the memories started to get jumbled and dark.

She tried to sit up, her eyes going to the door to the back bedroom that had been left ajar. Daryl's bare back came into view. His tan colored pants riding low on his hips. Obviously she wasn't the only one not fitting as well into their clothing as they used to. She found her still bleary eyes narrowing on the scars lining his back, at least what she could see of them before a shirt slid down to cover them. They were old scars, long healed, obviously acquired well before the world had gone to shit. A glimpse there and she began to understand just a bit about why this man was so fucking ridiculously stunted when it came to expressing himself in anything other than angry outburst.

She pushed with her good right arm and felt the rush of pain and dizziness well up. Her eyes closed and her head fell back to the pillow her good arm now resting on her chest, inching towards the throb in her left shoulder.

"You shouldn't be movin' round yet," Daryl's voice was soft, low, and downright exhausted as it came out. She could honestly say in the month or so that she'd known the man she had never once heard him sound so, what was the word? Defeated. Callie peeked an eye open and looked to see him leaning his shoulder against the door. He was wearing a dark blue sleeveless t-shirt now, and wiping his hands dry on a towel.

"I shouldn't do a lot of things," Callie said with a small smile as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes again. Her fingers finally rested atop the mound of bandages that encompassed her entire left shoulder, and across to the middle of her chest. "What happened?"

"You passed out," Daryl said stepping into the room, wiping the towel around his neck and then tossing the towel on the bed across from her. The one where Miles had been. "Not long after I started stitching you up."

"God," Callie said lifting her good hand to her head and rubbing. "I remember now. You and that needle. Fuck." She opened her eye and looked at him as he sat on the small stool he'd sat in to stitch her up. A bowl of water tinged red, with bloodstained remnants of someone's shirts littered the small side table. The needle and thread were still sitting out next to a large bottle of rubbing alcohol. Her shoulder throbbed more and she felt sick to her stomach just looking at that table.

"Went out after about the second stitch," Daryl said his brow narrowed as his eyes fell to the bandage on her shoulder, a very thin red line of blood seeping through. She saw the small smirk riding his lip and she couldn't help but laugh.

"You wanna call me a pansy so bad your lips are twitchin', Dixon." Callie said with a laugh, causing his eyes to flit back to her. There was amusement in those piercing blue depths, hiding behind the worry and the exhaustion. "So how did I do?"

"Cut's 'bout six or seven inches long. Stops pretty much mid chest. I only stitched the deepest part which was in your shoulder here," Daryl pointed with his finger being careful not to touch the still sensitive area. "That alone was about three or so inches. The rest is padded up with gauze. The blood was flowing mainly from the initial entry of the knife. Slowed down now."

Callie was nodding her head, remembering the feel of her knife sliding into her shoulder. The sensation had been frightening, but not as frightening as feeling that Walker pawing at her, breathing on her. It's jaw snapping hungrily for her. Her fingers idly moved over her bandage and to the scratches at her neck. Daryl's hand met hers, his fingers colliding with hers with such force it shocked Callie.

"Daryl, don't touch-" Callie started her eyes going to his in a panic.

"I already got your blood all over me," Daryl said his fingers skimming over hers. Her eyes stayed locked with his, while his eyes remained on his fingers as they moved hers out of the way so that he could tilt her chin just a bit and get a better look at the scratches. "Dale had some ointment in his first aid kit in here. We put some on there. Should be fine in a couple days."

Daryl finally raised his eyes to meet hers, as those rough calloused fingers continued to slide lightly over her raw skin. She watched his eyes flick from those scratches, to her bandaged shoulder, back to her eyes a few times. When his gaze dropped to her lips the third time around she cleared her throat.

"Where's Miles?" Callie asked moving to sit up. Daryl stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder, shaking his head, obviously clearing it.

"Outside, sitting with Jim and the kids," Daryl said putting his gaze to the window.

"No one's touched him right?" Callie asked her eyes also going to the window. She could just barely make out a few people gathered around.

"Ain't no one gonna," Daryl said quietly, causing her eyes to move back to him. "It was Whitmore that bit him right? Not a Walker."

"Right," Callie said nodding her head. "But we don't—"

"Rick ain't letting no one jump into any kind of hysterics," Daryl said standing up and walking back towards the door. "That includes you," he left for a second and came back carrying a shirt with a bra on top. His eyes were anywhere but on the items he held as he walked back to her. "You need help?"

"You offering?" Callie said with a smirk as she moved to sit up. His eyes held hers for a moment before his gaze again fell to her lips. This time she didn't move, she didn't so much as blink as he stepped a bit closer. Just when she thought he was going to say something, or do something he ran the back of his hand over his mouth.

"I'll send in your girl." Daryl said turning his back on her. Callie settled herself into a sitting position, her eyes going to the window.

"Daryl?" She called back. He turned half way around, half of his body out the door, half in. Callie smirked as she realized that stance pretty much described whatever was going on between the two of them. They were half into it, and half out. Both of them too damned pragmatic about surviving in this world to let themselves take that step in, and both too intrigued, too reckless to take that step away. "Danny?"

"They just got back," Daryl said gruffly, his eyes narrowing just a bit as he ran his hand through his hair and broke eye contact. "Rick and Dale found him. He found his wife out there." Callie's eyes widened, as Daryl's gaze rose and met hers again. "They spent the better part of the two hours you were out looking-" he cut himself off and shook his head. "He didn't find his boy. Nowhere."

"Jesus," Callie said slipping her feet out of the bed and holding the thin sheet to her chest with her good hand. She shook her head. "Is he okay?"

"Hell if I know," Daryl said gruffly. "Been in here with you for most of the time. I ain't never stitched a big ass cut like that. Merle usually only came back with small shit. Took me a bit of time." He turned his back on her, took that step out the door but stopped just beyond the door. Callie watched him yet again lift his hand to his mouth and run that dirty thumb nail along his lips as his head half turned to her.

He wasn't going to tell her that it hadn't taken that long for him to stitch her. Sure it took a while. His hand shakin' like a leaf as he tried to make the fuckin' thing look pretty. Waste of time there, but he couldn't help it. Her skin was raw, red, and angry where that slice had been made. Sitting there looking at it, stitching it, had made him feel the same way inside. Raw. Angry. When he'd finished he just sat there watching her sleep, waiting for her to wake up. He'd only moved about a few minutes ago when Dale came back to tell him that Danny was fine.

"I'll send in your girl to help you get dressed." Daryl said after a few beats. "Rick and Shane are questioning the prick that tried to off you. You'll probably want to hear what he has to say."

"You don't?" Callie asked as she put her hands to the shirt and bra that he'd brought in to her.

"I want to kill him," Daryl said darkly, his eyes meeting hers over his shoulder. "Rick said I ain't allowed close if I can't control myself. And he's right." He started walking and Callie watched him take a few steps and then stop and look back over his shoulder at her. " I know I can't."

When their eyes met again, his narrowed gaze boring into her from over his shoulder, a part of her wondered if he was only talking about controlling himself around Whitmore, or if he was talking about something else. A hand at her back. A glance at her lips. Daryl's jaw clenched and he started walking again, the door to the RV practically slamming shut behind him.

The door to the RV had opened about two minutes later, and Jenna's head had poked into that back bedroom. Her lips held a smile that just didn't meet her tired eyes as she came all the way in. She'd helped Callie get into the bra and T-shirt that Carol had fished out of Callie's stuff.

"How's Miles? Gracie?" Callie looked at the girl as she tied Callie's boots for her, and put a hand to her thin sunburned shoulder. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," Jenna said looking up at Callie with tired eyes, a half smile on her face. She sat in an Indian-style position on the ground in front of Callie. "As fine as anyone can be I guess." She brushed her chin length red-hair out of her face and shook her head. "Gracie's the same as she was. Still not talking, but Carol and Lori were able to get her to eat something at least. That's something." Jenna finished her work on Callie's shoes and placed her hands to her knees as she looked up again. "Miles is," the girl's lips firmed into a line. "He's in bad shape. He's in a good bit of pain, and well," she half smiled. "As Danny put it, he's scared shitless. That bite-"

"We're not worrying about that right now," Callie said getting gingerly to her feet. She stretched her back a bit, happy that Jenna helped remove the tight bandages around her mid-section. Her ribs ached a bit, but were fine. She didn't need to be walking around feeling like a fucking mummy right now. Callie reached her good right hand down to Jenna and helped the girl to her feet.

"Callie," Jenna said squeezing her hand. "I'm scared. What if—" The girl's eyes landed on the scratch marks on Callie's neck. "Everyone's talking. They don't think Miles and I know it, but everyone's talking."

"Let them talk," Callie said putting her good arm around Jenna's shoulder and leading the girl out of the room. "We'll deal with it when and if we have to. Until then, let them talk. And do your best not to let Miles listen."

"They're not just talking about Miles," Jenna whispered turning as they got to the door to the RV. Jenna's worried gaze met Callie's and she tried to smile. She tried to give her usual reassuring pat to the girl's shoulder and a smile that would tell her that there was nothing to worry about. But she just couldn't do it.

"I know," Callie said placing her hand to Jenna's shoulder and turning her back around. "I know." They exited the RV, Jenna's shoulders slumped in sadness. Callie gave her one squeeze before dropping her hand and lifting it to shield her eyes from the sun.

The throbbing in her shoulder was intense, and she put her right hand to her elbow to try and hold her injured arm in place. The more she let it move the more intense the pain. But at least there was some sensation in her hand and lower arm now, she flexed her fingers of her hand a bit and smiled. Biting her lip she let he eyes roam around at their makeshift camp on the highway. At some point the Daryl's truck, along with the Hummer had been moved in line with the rest of the cars in the caravan. They used the barbed wire cars lining the 'car mote' and had their cars settled in a tight little semicircle.

In the middle of that the survivors had set up a makeshift camp, complete with a small fire pit made from a large metal bucket. Something was skewered and sitting over top of that fire, the smell wafting a bit to Callie's nostrils. The group was split into four little circles currently.

Carol, Sophia, Lori, Carl, Jacqui and T-Dog were sitting near that little fire. The eyes of all of the women, and children rose at the same time to look up at Callie and Jenna as they exited the RV. Callie's eyes roamed the faces of the mothers; watched as Carol and Lori held to their children a bit tighter. Jacqui and T-Dog gave her matching smiles of regret that she tried very hard not to roll her eyes at. Shaking her head she gave them a small smile before shifting her attention.

Miles was settled on one of Dale's lawn chairs, beside Jim who sat on an overturned tire. Miles' arm was in a makeshift sling, his face ashen pale as he continued to stare down at the large white bandage that was covering almost his entire left forearm. Next to him, on the ground sat little bitty Gracie. Her body was still curled in on itself, but not as bad as it had been. Her shoulders were hunched as she stared at her tiny boot covered feet.

Danny, Andrea and Dale stood not far from where Miles and Jim sat. The three of them shifting their eyes back and forth between the form of Shane and Rick as they talked, too far back from the two former deputies to be able to hear anything of value but obviously trying anyway. Callie's eyes shifted then to Rick who stood with his hands on his hips shaking his head as Shane let his arms fly wide. On the ground settled against the Jeep that had held the dead body of poor Denny Howard sat Whitmore. Callie watched the man's head tilt to the sky, and then shift to Rick and Shane before yet again falling to his chest.

"Callie," Dale's voice startled Callie out of her reverie, and she returned her eyes to the trio of adults. She patted Jenna and pushed the girl on her way.

"Where's Ben?" Callie said, feeling like a broken fucking record as she walked up to where Dale, Danny and Andrea were waiting.

"He went with Daryl," Danny said pointing his finger over his shoulder. Callie followed it and spotted the shapes of Daryl and tiny little Ben about four car lengths down the highway. Ben was close to Daryl's side as the man kicked what Callie could only assume was another piece of barbed wire out of the main roadway. "Looks like they're on their way back. Figured you'd be okay with that."

"Yeah," Callie said quietly, her eyes shifting back to Danny's. Danny smiled just a bit and lifted his arms. She raised a brow, half expecting the man to slap her upside the head again, and was instead greeted by both of his hands cupping her face. He pulled her head towards him, and let his lips settle on her forehead. Pulling back she smiled at him and raised her good hand to meet the hand on her right cheek. "I was half expecting you to smack me."

"I was going to," Danny said giving her cheek a small playful slap an letting his hands fall. "I figure I'll wait until you're all healed up to do it." His eyes slid to Miles then back to her, lingering on the scratch marks on her neck. "Cal, I'm so—"

"Don't," Callie said slapping him on the shoulder. "Are you okay?" He nodded his head and mouthed the word 'later' and she smiled at him. He grabbed her good arm pulling her towards him just a bit and opened his mouth to say something, but she shook her head. "No worries." She looked at him as she stepped past him and closer to the waiting, smiling Dale. "Not yet."

"It's a sling," Dale said smiling at her confused expression as he held something out before him. "We used some of the extra clothes we had to fashion one for Miles and one for you." He held up the long sleeved shirt that had been tied to work as a sling. "It was Ed's shirt. Carol didn't have any problem parting with it."

"Thanks," Callie said letting Dale slip the sling on. She winced as she moved her arm to sit in it, and heard the footfalls of Daryl as he approached them. She let her eyes slide to him, and watched him settle himself on the bumper of a nearby car.

"How far does it go?" Danny asked Daryl, getting the redneck's attention away from the sight of Shane crouching down and getting in Whitmore's face.

"About ten lengths of car left, all of it covered with wire." Daryl slid his gaze to Callie for a split second before returning it to Danny. "I took care of the barbed wire. Should be good when we decide to pull up and get movin'."

"Great," Danny said shifting his gaze towards where Rick and Shane were questioning their friend. "Now we just need to figure out what to do with him."

"Why aren't you guys up there," Callie asked eyeing the group of surrounding her.

"Rick and Shane said it would be safer if we didn't." Dale said quietly his eyes going to the men in question up near the Jeep.

"Fuck that," Callie said pushing past the men and moving to where Daryl was standing near the barbed wire defense. "Give me a hand," she said holding out her good arm. Daryl lifted a brow and then smacked at her hand. He put his hands to her waist and lifted her easily up so that she was sitting on the trunk of the car. She nodded a thanks at him and slid her ass around so that she could get over the barbed wire and put her feet on the ground. "I'm not sitting around here waiting on them. That fucker tried to kill me."

Danny let out a laugh and shook his head as he came into step beside Daryl. Both men watched her trudge along through the cars towards Rick and Shane. Danny tilted his head and smiled at Daryl.

"She's a pistol that one," Danny said smacking Daryl on the shoulder. "She keeps ya busy, but strangely you find you don't mind it." Danny hauled his ass over the barbed wire barricade and went to follow Callie.

"Ain't my woman to be worryin' bout none of that." Daryl said following behind Danny leaving Dale and Andrea to figure out if they wanted to come or not. Danny shot a smiling look over his shoulder at Daryl and merely shook his head before following Callie the rest of the way.

"He awake?" Callie asked a bit out of breath as she came up towards Rick and Shane. Rick stopped her, raising both of his hands and keeping her back. Shane removed his hand from the collar of Whitmore's fatigues and turned to look at them. Slowly he raised up out of his crouched position and let his gaze slide between Callie, Danny and Daryl.

Daryl sidestepped the arms of Rick and settled himself right in front of Whitmore, his crossbow out and settled in his grip as he crossed his arms. Daryl stared at the now smiling Whitmore, his lips twitching with frustration as did. Danny put a hand to Rick's shoulder and gave him a nod. The two men stared at each other and for perhaps the first time Callie noticed that the two men could have been brothers.

Rick and Danny shared a silent conversation, after which Rick lowered his arms and let Callie slowly make her way forward. She raised her brow at Danny who gave her a shrug and settled in beside her as she walked up towards the Jeep. Obviously the time that Rick had spent with Danny in the woods when he was bringing his ass back had connected the two men on some level.

Her eyes slid from Whitmore and his big ass grin as she came into view, and over to where Denny's body had been laid. She swallowed hard, and shook her head before letting her gaze lock with Whitmore's.

"He ain't talking," Shane said running a hand over his head and scratching idly at the back of his neck. "Not about anything useful. Just going on about all the fun we're gonna have at the fucking CDC."

"There's ways to get people to talk," Daryl said quietly, his eyes shifting from Whitmore to Rick then to Shane. "Effective ways."

"No," Rick said shaking his head tiredly, as if he'd had this conversation before. Callie shifted her gaze to Rick his head still shaking, and Shane looking away in what she could only describe as disgust, and she realized he probably had. "No. We aren't resorting to that. We aren't stooping to that level."

"He tried to kill Miles and Callie." Danny said angrily his eyes roaming over the fatigues the man was wearing. "There's stooping and then there's just plain fuckin' justice."

"I understand that," Rick's eyes moved to Callie as she took a step closer to where Denny's body lay. "I just can't—"

"Did you know him?" Callie asked, cutting off Rick. Her eyes were on the body of her friend, but her question had been posed to the smiling man watching her.

"Who, Howard?" Whitmore said, his head tilting as he watched her slowly kneel down beside the body. She was settled directly between the dead man and Whitmore, and her eyes lifted to meet those of the man that had almost killed her. She nodded once, and his smile grew wider. "Oh yeah, I knew Howard. Denny was a good man. He really was." Whitmore shook his head. "Damn shame."

"You shot him," Callie said. It wasn't a question, because she really didn't need to ask. She knew just by the way Whitmore was watching her, by the way his eyes avoided Denny's body that he had done it. Rick and the rest exchanged a glance, all shifting just a bit closer as Callie and Whitmore conversed. Shane let out a gruff sigh and shook his head, his eyes sliding to Rick's with an exasperated roll.

"Yeah," Whitmore nodded his bloodied head. "Like I said. Damn shame."

"Why?" Callie asked quietly. She shifted in her crouched position so that she was facing Whitmore now, blocking his eye line to Denny's body. Her shoulder was throbbing again, her head swimming but she wasn't leaving before she got answers.

"Why not?" Whitmore returned, his eyes like ice as he stared at her. He leaned slightly forward, causing all of the men to move forward too. He chuckled and let his head fall back against the Jeep. "We're all dead anyway. Why not put him out of his misery?"

"Is that what you did to the people in the forest?" Danny asked, an edge to his voice as he stepped a bit closer. Rick put a hand to Danny's shoulder to stop his forward progress. "Is that what you call that mess in there?" He pointed an angry finger at the forest. "An end to misery?"

"That? I call that a learning experience, boy." Whitmore growled at Danny. "Did you learn something?"

"Fucker!" Danny exploded, lunging forward only to be pulled to a stop by Rick and Shane. "Son of a bitch. Where's my son!"

"Son?" Whitmore croaked, a chuckle in his voice. "I don't have a fuckin' clue where your son is? I came across most of these people already turned or already dead. All I did was tie 'em up. Build myself a little defense force." He smiled at Callie. "You saw it up close. Pretty amazing huh?" He looked at her neck. "Oh there, did it get you? Or was that me? Aw, who cares? We're all dead anyway."

Callie lunged forward, her good hand diving for Whitmore's collar. She had grabbed a fist full and was dragging the laughing man towards her when she felt familiar strong arms circle around her waist. Daryl pulled at her, breaking her hold on Whitmore's collar, and lifting her up off the ground.

"I'm fine," Callie said lifting her arm wide as her back came to rest against his chest. "I'm fine." Daryl lowered her to the ground, keeping his arm circled around her waist, her body slumping a bit against his as the effects of her outburst wore on her already frazzled nerves. She continued to stare at Whitmore, watching the man smile at her. She took three deep breaths and closed her eyes. "Denny was friends with a man, worked with him. A doctor that was deployed to the CDC. Captain Robert Marcus, part of the 34th out of Fort Benning. Did you know him?"

"Bobby?" Whitmore said smiling. "Yeah, I met him when everyone first arrived. He was good people too." Callie took a deep shuddering breath at the past tense used by the son of a bitch smiling at her. "He someone special to you, honey?" Callie snarled at the man and he laughed. "You're heading to the CDC right? Well I'm sure he's still 'round there somewhere. Wanderin'. Maybe." He laughed again. "Can't say for sure. Got a whole mess of dog tags in a bag in the back of the Jeep here of men we took care of. Can't honestly remember what happened to good old Doc. You're welcome to check."

He inclined his head towards the back hatch of the Jeep and Callie's eyes followed. Daryl's arm tightened around her midsection holding her in place. She angled her head over her shoulder to look at him, but Daryl's eyes were squinted at the smiling bastard on the ground. Like he was trying to see through the man. Like he knew something wasn't quite right with this whole damned situation and he didn't want her to move even a step closer to it.

Whitmore's eyes were going between Rick and Shane now, a glimmer of some kind of devilish delight playing in those bloodshot depths. Rick had let go of Danny who was now pacing. Shane was keeping an eye on Danny and shooting glares at Rick and Whitmore.

"Are there people at the CDC?" Rick asked lowering to his haunches and staring at the man who just kept smiling. "Look, I'm about ready to let these boys have at you, if you don't stop toying with us and answer a damn question."

Good cop, bad cop, really? Callie thought, her eyes shifting to Danny who was obviously thinking the same thing as he let out a little huff of a laugh.

"Yeah," Whitmore said finally. "There are people there." He smirked up at Rick, his eyes squinting almost shut in the bright sunlight overhead. The smirk on his face just barely showed some of his yellowed teeth. Teeth that had taken a big bite out of Miles. Callie shook her head and watched Rick shake his. "You'll get in for sure if you've got yourself someone who's been infected. They love watchin' 'em turn." Whitmore's eyes slipped back to Callie and her body stiffened.

"Ya ain't infected," Daryl whispered in her ear as his arm tightened. "He's fuckin' with you. Fuckin' with all of us."

"Did you do all of this?" Rick asked quietly, his eyes leaping up to Whitmore. Whitmore actually looked shocked by Rick's question, and his smile faltered but only for a second.

"Not alone," Whitmore said leaning forward a bit. "Not alone. Denny here helped." Callie's eyes widened and her head began to shake back and forth in denial. "So did a lot of those bastards before they 'opted out'. Orders. Really son, it's better this way." He shook his head. "You'll see. You'll figure it out."

Whitmore closed his eyes and Rick stood up and took a few paces away from the man. The serene look on Whitmore's face as he angled his head up to the sun above was so disturbing that Callie had to look away. Daryl let go of his grip around her midsection and allowed Danny to take her by her good arm and lead her a bit away.

"Jim!" Miles' voice echoed up to them from where he sat and all eyes turned towards the boy. Callie and Danny were already on the move when Daryl's eyes turned to them. He took a step at the same time that Rick did to follow.

From what they could see Miles was on his knees hovering over the body of Jim. The boy was waving Dale over to help him turn the older man onto his back, and Jenna was running towards the RV after being pushed by Andrea.

"Jesus, what now?" Shane said running his hands over his head as he watched Danny, Callie, Daryl and Rick start down towards the commotion. The sound of a door opening and shuffling had Shane turning back around. Whitmore was up his hands free from the bindings and the rope falling down his frame. The back door to the Jeep was open, a bag visible on the seat. Whitmore held a small handgun in his shaking hands, a wide grin on his face as his blood shot eyes twitched.

"Son of a bitch!" Shane yelled as he pulled his gun.

"We're all dead anyway," Whitmore said the gun still shaking in his hands. "You'll see." In one quick movement Whitmore lifted the gun to his mouth and pulled the trigger.

"Shane!" Lori's voice yelled up from the commotion, and had Rick and Daryl both turning back and running towards the Jeep.

Shane stood there, breathing hard, his gun still trained on the man who's brain matter was now plastered to the Jeep behind him.

"Shane!" Rick's was out of breath by the time he made it back, his gun pulled and ready. Rick's eyes went to Whitmore's body just as Daryl pushed past him. "Are you alright?" Rick turned to his friend, seeing the shock in the man's face, the tension in his arms as he still trained his gun on the dead man. Rick's put his gun away, and put a hand to Shane's arms. The muscles tightened under his grip and slowly Shane's eyes turned towards Rick as he lowered his arms. "Shane, are you alright?" Shane nodded, one hand going to his head while the other still held his gun in a death grip.

Daryl kneeled beside the body of the now dead maniac, his lips twitching in anger at the sight of the cut ropes and the small army knife on the ground. He shook his head.

"What happened?" Rick's voice asked. Daryl looked up to see Shane still staring at the man on the ground. Shane's eyes shifted to Rick and he just shook his head.

"Rick!" Dale's voice yelled up from the group below and they all turned to look. "We've got a problem down here."

Flesh is burning, you can smell it in the air

'Cause men like you have such an easy soul to steal

So stand in line while they ink numbers in your head

You're now a slave until the end of time here

Nothing stops the madness turning, haunting, yearning, pull the trigger

You should have known

The price of evil

And it hurts to know you belong here, yeah

It's your fuckin' nightmare

While your nightmare comes to life

~Nightmare/ Avenged Sevenfold

AN: Well there you have it, and I hope you enjoyed it. If you noticed a bit of similarity between Whitmore's questioning and the things that transpired with Randall in Season 2, it was intentional. I love to see the growth of the characters in the series, and wanted to put a bit of that in here. Showing Rick as a man not yet ready to beat someone down to get answers gives me somewhere to go with him in the future. Shane not ready to pull that trigger yet, and Daryl…well being Daryl.

I hope you're enjoying where we're going because the next chapter should be fun. What's the problem down at the RV? Is Callie infected? What about Miles? Where is Danny's kid? Too many questions…then again what's a good suspense-filled fic without them.