A/N: Here's the next one. See you tomorrow or the day after that!


When they parked the truck outside the other farmhouse, there was no one there. No other truck. No car. No people. Nothing. Evan's heart sank as she stepped out, and she pressed a hand over her mouth. Although she knew that it had been faint, she'd still been clinging to the hope that she'd find them there. That they'd be safe, all of them. That she'd get to see Dale's friendly smile again and that Rick would press his lips against hers. But the house was silent, abandoned and dark. Wordlessly she sank to her knees, unable to remain upright. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. This couldn't be how it was supposed to go.

"We should get inside," Daryl said slowly, standing next to her. "If any walkers show up… Evan, you're not armed."

She knew he was right, but how? Why? What was the point? His fingers wrapped around the top of her arm and he pulled her up. She followed, but couldn't figure out why. Everything was gone. Everyone was gone. Hope had died with them and Evan's will to fight too. She went inside with Daryl, but it was like she wasn't there anymore. Her body was there but her mind had drifted off, escaped, only so that it wouldn't lose every last piece of its sanity.

"Stay here." Daryl placed her in the hallway corner, just inside the now closed door. "I'll check the house out and gather anything that might be useful. Just stay here, and don't make a sound."

Evan didn't offer an answer and he didn't need one. She watched him disappear quietly. She hadn't been to the large white house before, but she knew they had. The floors were all wooden and it looked a lot like the house she'd seen go up in flames, except this one wasn't so well kept anymore, since no one seemed to have been living there since the very beginning. Evan froze where she was standing, her arms hanging limply by her sides. She felt so numb. So empty. If a walker had burst through the door she wasn't sure she'd even notice until it was too late. Part of her didn't mind; she was dangerously close to giving up. If she'd had a gun she wouldn't have been able to trust herself with it.

Finally Daryl returned, a box in his arms with random items hiding within. He moved past Evan, passing the stairs, and into the room next to it. Then he returned, stopping in front of her trembling form.

"I found some things, supplies, weapons, and we missed a few cans of vegetables when we were here." He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. "There's no running water but I'll check the grounds later to see if there's a well. And I've dragged a mattress into the kitchen. We'll stay in there tonight. We can see the road from there."

Evan nodded and he sighed.

"I know-" he started, but Evan's head shot up and she cut him off.

"What do you know, Daryl? Huh? What is it that you know?" She raised her arms and pushed him back. "Everything is gone, don't you get that? They're dead, okay, I admit it. They're dead. We're alone. And we've lost everything. Everything." Her voice faded out, giving way for silent tears.

"No we haven't!" he shouted back; it was his turn to push her, and her back hit the wall with a soft thump. "You're still here and I'm still here! We've got us, and I'm trying. I'm fucking trying!" His hands hovered in mid-air, in between his face and hers. "I'm really trying."

"I thought you detested all of us anyway, you can leave. I don't care anymore." She was being unfair and she knew it, but there were too many emotions going wild inside of her and they hurt more than the smoke had; she needed to let it out. Unfortunately Daryl was the only one there for her to blame.

"Fine. Maybe I'll go, you can fend for yourself." Angrily he stormed into the kitchen again and Evan jumped when she heard cabinets slam shut and cans violently being banged into the counter.

She bit her lower lip and looked down on her hands. Her eyes focused on the soot she'd gotten on her skin, but only for a moment. It still sounded as if Daryl had declared war on the entire kitchen and everything in it. Evan moved away from the front door and Daryl stopped moving when he saw her in the doorway. He turned away from her, leaning his hands against the sink, eyes peering out the window above. Silently Evan approached him, and surprised them both when she wrapped her arms around his body from behind, pressing her face into his shoulder blade.

"Please don't hate me, Daryl," she whispered into the fabric of his shirt. "Please don't hate me."

He had tensed up when she first embraced him, but then he relaxed. "I don't hate you. I'm not going to leave you. Sorry I said that."

"It's okay."

Then the moment was over, just as suddenly as it had started. Evan let go of her friend, and two seconds later he piped up again, telling her what he'd found, what she could do to help, and what his plans were.

"I'll keep watch tonight," he said. "I'll be in the front. If any of them show up, then I'll see them and wake you up. I promise."

He was trying to keep up appearances, but Evan knew as well as he did that no one was coming. They really were alone. Evan still wasn't sure if she wanted to keep fighting, but decided that she couldn't leave Daryl. She had no doubt that he could take care of himself, but she also knew that he cared about her and wanted her with him, even if he had never admitted it out loud. Now it was just them, and they had to do everything they could to keep each other safe. They weren't alone yet.

When the day started to draw to a close they had organized and gathered what little they could find in the house. In the barn Daryl had found a rifle and a box of ammo and in one of the outhouses Evan had found a sickle which was still sharp enough to be used as a weapon. They'd also ransacked the kitchen and found two large enough knifes to be of service. Other than that they'd found six cans of vegetables and two with ham. Luckily Daryl had located a well on the property and together they'd found several bottles and empty jars to fill up with water to bring with them. In one of the wardrobes upstairs Evan had collected a few items of clothing as well as a pair of boots. They were too big for her feet, but they were better than nothing. She had then thrown on a pair of jeans and a sweater with embroidered cats on it that made Daryl explode with laughter at the sight of her. She'd joined in, only because she did look absolutely ridiculous. Unfortunately they weren't in a position to be picky, however, and she'd only found one other pair of pants plus a t-shirt that she'd be able to wear at all.

Even though Evan tried to refrain from doing so, her eyes kept straying to the windows facing the front while they worked. She couldn't let go of her foolish hope. She had to cling to it. After realizing that she couldn't leave Daryl just as little as he could leave her, she also recognized she needed something bigger to be able to go on. Hope. She needed to hope that she'd see some of her friends again. Daryl had already placed a few of the boxes in the car, together with blankets, pillows and most of the food. He meant it when he said they had to leave at first light, Evan knew he did, and yet she wished he didn't. She wished they could stay longer. Wait for the others. As if they were coming.

"Do you reckon we should head south?" Daryl asked suddenly, ripping Evan from her thoughts. Her eyes turned away from the window and met his instead. They were going through some old boxes Daryl had found in the barn and some Evan had found in the attic, with the hopes of finding something – anything – that they could salvage.

"I don't know." They were already relatively close to leaving Georgia behind and entering Florida. If they reached Florida there would be no more south to go.

"We have to have some sort of plan," he decided. "There's only half a tank of gas, we can't run around in circles."

"Where did the fire start?" she asked suddenly, changing the subject. "Did you see?"

He looked at her with his eyebrows furrowed. "No, upstairs, I think."

She remained silent for a moment, moving old picture albums out of the way to look underneath them. "I thought it started in Carol's room at first. Then upstairs. But maybe it didn't."

"Evan, we all used candles. All the time. Especially at night. One probably tipped over." He stopped what he was doing and looked at her.

"I know but it doesn't make sense. We'd been living there for months and it never happened before that night."

"It just took the one time," he argued.

Evan nodded, but wasn't convinced. "What if it started outside? I mean, if it started by the wall, next to Carol's bedroom, then surely it would be easy to mistake it from starting in there first and then upstairs, once the fire spread?"

"I guess." His hands started working again, placing a small bottle of pills in the pile to be examined closer later. "What does it matter?"

"If that fire started outside, Daryl, it would have to mean that someone else started it." She knew she sounded paranoid, although in their world it wasn't really possible to be paranoid. At least there was a very fine line between paranoia and carefulness.

"Who would start it?" he questioned. "Even if there'd been others who wanted the farm for themselves, it'd be fucking stupid to set fire to it in order to get us out."

"What about the walkers?" Evan asked instead of answering his question. "We had barely seen any walkers at all. For weeks. And then suddenly the house burns down and hundreds of walkers ambush us at the same time?"

He had to acknowledge that it sounded very unlikely. He sighed. "Again though, who would start it?"

"I don't know," Evan admitted. "Maybe someone who thought they could keep the fire under control?"

"And the walkers? Did they also release them as if they were pit bulls?" Evan hated the mocking tone in his words, but they still rang true.

"They could have led them there. Right? Driving slow enough to take them with, and then just wait for them to notice us and we'd be instant food." Evan rubbed her tired face with sore hands. "I don't have all the answers, Daryl, but something about last night doesn't make sense. It doesn't make sense that it was all a big coincidence."

"You're probably right, but what good does it do us even if we'd know that someone caused those things to happen?"

"I don't know," she confessed. "Maybe it doesn't matter at all."

Silence snuck into the kitchen, ambushing them slowly, the only sounds left being the shuffling from the boxes. They continued to work without another word and an hour later, when the sun was kissing the horizon, they had finished. They had found expired aspirin, some matches and candles, two flashlights and a spare set of batteries, half a box of band aids and a pocket knife. It wasn't much, but at least it was something. Sighing Evan announced that she'd carry it to the truck and Daryl handed her the loaded rifle.

"Only if absolutely necessary," he reminded her and she nodded. Earlier it had been decided that she would come get him when possible, if a walker showed up. Partly to save ammo but also to make sure they didn't attract more of them. If they were ambushed again they would have no chance in hell to make it out alive.

Evan opened the front door carefully, peering out. She saw nothing except for what belonged; the barn, the outhouse, the truck, a few trees. When she was sure no walkers were lurking she pushed the door open fully and walked out. Her feet slipped back and forth a little in the big boots but she managed to get to the vehicle in one piece. She held the box in her hands, containing what they'd just found as well as a few rolls of paper from the bathroom (Daryl had raised an eyebrow when she saw her carrying them, but she asked him if he'd rather wipe his ass on leaves or if he'd prefer to stuff a branch up his nose in case he got a nosebleed and then he closed his mouth without saying anything). With a sigh she placed the box on the hood of the truck to free her hands. The humming of a motor reached her the same second she felt the cold metal of the door handle against her skin. She turned around quickly and peered down the road, but the stupid barn was obstructing her eye line.

She sank down though, quickly, and rushed back towards the house. She silently cursed herself for leaving the box so recklessly where it was in the open but there was no time to spill. The second she was inside she closed the door behind her.

"Daryl, I heard a motor!"

When he joined her to look out the window next to the door the same hope sparked in both of them, even though they remained silent.