"What the fuck." Nye breathed, fidgeting uneasily as the group, minus Daryl, stood in a circle around something extremely suspicious.

Four full gallons, and half a dozen bottles, all full of clear water. The only thing left behind with it, was a piece of paper with the words "From a friend" written boldly on it.

"Should we-" Noah started to ask, only to be cut off by Rick.

"No. Not a chance."

"If we found a pot or something, we could boil it." Tara unhelpfully grumbled, looking at the water longingly.

The bushes shook, and Daryl stepped out of them silently. Nye stared at him in concern, seeing the way his eyes were redder than when he went into the woods. He spotted the water, and before he could ask about it, Rick handed him the paper. Daryl read it, and immediately went on guard.

"What else are we gonna do?" Tara asked, just as exhausted as everyone else.

"Not this. We don't know who left it."

"If that's a trap, we already happen to be in it. But I, for one, would like to think it is indeed from a friend." Eugene said, thirsty enough to chance whatever may happen.

"What if it isn't? They put something in it?" Carol argued, not ready to trust anyone who wasn't currently standing with her.

After a beat, Eugene moved forward and picked up a bottle, unscrewing the cap.

"Eugene!"

"What are you doing, dude?"

"Quality assurance." Eugene explained, raising the bottle to his lips.

With two long strides, Abraham was in front of him, and slapped the bottle out of his hand, stopping him from taking even a sip. Eugene blinked in shock, chin dripping the water that had splashed back at him as it flew from his grip. Abraham scowled, walking back over to where he stood beside Sasha and Tyreese.

"We can't." Rick barked, glaring down Eugene and anyone else he thought might try something.

But before anyone could say anything, or try to come up with some solution, their luck seemed to finally turn around.

Thunder clapped once, and suddenly, like the sky parted, rain showered down on them strongly, soaking them in a matter of seconds.

Nye slowly looked up, blinking as water fell down her face. "Holy shit." She said through a breathless laugh. Closing her eyes, she lavished in the feeling of cool water dousing her.

Mason threw his arms in the air, hollering happily. Toby followed Tara and Rosita's example, and laid down on the road, letting it wash away the blood and grime.

Lydia merely sat down, taking the moment for what it was, a short reprieve from the day-to-day horror in their lives.

Carl covered Judith's head with his hat, grinning along with most of the others. Glenn turned to Maggie, but faltered as he saw her apathetically look out into the woods, unaffected by the rain.

Michonne, Carl, Noah, and Tyreese all reeled back and laughed as Samson shook himself off right next to them, dirty water flying back into their faces.

The only people not basking in the moment, were Maggie, Gabriel, Abraham, Carol, and Daryl. Even Sasha had cracked a smile at their luck.

Opening her eyes, Nye leaned her head back down, smile still there, but fading. Her green eyes, looking misty, locked with her favorite pair of Georgia blues. Daryl stared back at her from across the rest of the group, taking in how the rain had washed away the dirt and blood from her face, revealing red cheeks dusted in freckles. Her eyes fluttered, and she offered him a sad smile, looking back on the past three weeks, and how they had barely spoken a word to each other in that time.

"Everybody get the bags. Anything you can find." Rick shouted over the rain and thunder, needing to keep their priorities straight. Though he himself had been relishing in the water shower along with the others.

As everyone moved to open their bags and bottles to catch water, the wind started to pick up, the rain starting to turn more into a storm. Thunder cracked louder, and more frequent, causing Judith to start crying. Looking up, they saw the dark grey clouds start to form a sort of swirl in the sky.

"Let's keep moving!" Rick ordered, the need for water now less important than the need to avoid the oncoming tornado.

"There's a barn!" Daryl yelled over the wind, nodding back to the woods he just came from.

"Where?!"

As Daryl lead the way, Nye gathered her kids, taking Mason's right hand, and Toby's left, while Lydia clung to the older of the two boys. Soon, the storm was bad enough that the whole group had to cling to each other, just to make sure no one got lost. It was all so loud, you couldn't even hear Judith's cries anymore.

...

The wind howled and slammed against the barn doors, rain flying in through the thin crack between them. The old wooden building was big for a barn, leaving plenty of space for the group to split off from each other, which most did.

Rick, Michonne, Carol, Glenn, Nye, and Daryl sat around a meager fire, doing their best to dry off and warm up. Carl slept next to where Rick sat, holding Judith. Mason was leaned up against a wall close by, Toby and Lydia both laying and sleeping across his lap. Samson of course wasn't far, resting at the eldest's feet. The boys' hats were sitting by the fire, in an attempt to get them dry.

Nye had her goggles hanging around her neck for once, as she scanned over the two polaroids always kept in her pocket, making sure there was no water damage. Her adolescent face beamed back at her, right beside Shepherd's awkward smile. In the other, Beverley's grin was refreshing and bitter at the same time. With half lidded eyes, Nye tucked them back into her jean pocket, wishing not for the first time that she could go back to the days the former was taken.

But if given the chance, it wouldn't even be a question. This world might have monsters in all shapes and sizes, but so long as she made sure her kids were breathing, it was the world she wanted to live in.

Daryl poked around the fire with a stick, but the rain had dampened everything that hadn't been inside the barn, so trying to get them to burn was near impossible.

"I'll try." Glenn reached for the abandoned stick.

"No, too wet." Daryl tiredly shook his head.

Thunder cracked, and Rick silently watched his kids sleep through it, too tired to be roused by the noise.

"He's gonna be okay. He bounces back more than any of us do." Carol softly spoke to their leader, bringing his attention back away from any dark thoughts he may be having.

"I used to feel sorry for kids that have to grow up now. In this." Rick gestured to the leaky barn sheltering them. "But I think I got it wrong. Growing up is getting used to the world. This is easier for them."

"This isn't the world. This isn't it." Michonne argued, looking to a degree fearful.

Glenn peered over his shoulder, at where Maggie laid, trying to sleep. "It might be."

Michonne inhaled, staring at Glenn in betrayal. He used to be the optimistic one of the group, but now...

"It might." He sighed.

"That's giving up."

"It's reality."

Nye shook her head, blocking them out in favor of watching Daryl in concern. The hunter stared numbly into the fire, looking like the very definition of giving up.

"Until we see otherwise, this is what we have to live with." Rick broke up the whispered argument.

They fell silent, leaving everyone still awake to listen to the rain hitting the roof, and harsh winds slam into the old wood.

"When I was a kid..."

Nye looked up, wondering what was possibly left for Rick to say.

"I asked my grandpa once if he ever killed any Germans in the war." He shook his head minutely, mind far back into the memory. "He wouldn't answer. He said that was grown-up stuff, so... so I asked if the Germans ever tried to kill him." Rick paused, voice going lower. "But he got real quiet. He said he was dead the minute he stepped into enemy territory. Every day he woke up and told himself, "Rest in peace. Now get up and go to war." And then after a few years of pretending he was dead... he made it out alive."

Nye grimaced, fingers fiddling with her goggles uneasily. She didn't particularly like where the moral of the story was leaning.

"That's the trick of it, I think. We do what we need to do and then we get to live. But no matter what we find in DC, I know we'll be okay. Because this is how we survive. We tell ourselves... that we are the walking dead."

The fire lit up the underside of his face, giving him a haunting edge to his intense expression. Nye had long ago realized that Rick wasn't always as stable as he might initially seem, and as he was telling them that to live, they had to be dead, it made Nye extremely uncomfortable with just how close the sentiment was to Lydia's people.

"We ain't them." Daryl finally spoke, voice hoarse from disuse.

Rick nodded faintly, leaning to be in Daryl's line of sight. "We're not them." He agreed, putting a hand on Daryl's shoulder to get the hunter to look at him. "Hey. We're not."

Daryl clenched his jaw, standing. "We ain't them." He uttered softly once more, before walking off further into the barn.

Nye watched him go, sighing through her nose.

With the sounds of the storm outside masking everything else, no one heard the oncoming threat before it was almost too late. Standing by the barn doors, Daryl glanced around, and managed to spot something through the gap between doors, many somethings, actually. A herd close to the size of the one back on the highway those few years ago, marched up to the old wooden doors, slamming into them unforgivingly just as Daryl ran to them himself, throwing his body into it to keep the Walkers from breaking the rusted chain keeping them closed. Maggie, who was the closest, was the first to run to his aid, her body lending it's weight next to him. But it clearly wasn't enough, as the Walkers started getting further between the gap, reaching their arms through and swinging wildly.

Their growls and snarls finally became loud enough to gain the rest's attention.

"Shit!" Rick bark, on his feet and running to the doors in a blink of an eye.

Nye scrambled to get upright, shoes sliding in the muddy ground. Only a few steps behind Abraham, Sasha, Rosita, and Glenn, Nye followed their example and threw herself into the splintering wood. Rain splashed them, falling down sideways as the winds somehow got worse, the wetness causing the ground under their feet to become slick, destroying much of their traction. Soon everyone was up against the door, even the kids who had been awoken by the commotion.

Nye clenched her eyes shut, jaw screwed so tight that she thought it may break. Her back was to the door, the wood digging into her skin painfully, while she kicked her feet to keep them close, as they slid too easily in the mud.

Somewhere in the background Samson was barking unhelpfully, but it still came nowhere near the volume of the monsters outside.

Cracking her eyes open, Nye looked up, meeting the same scared look she surely had on her face. The only problem, was it was her hunter looking back at her.

Heart in her throat, she closed her eyes, unable to face him.

Knowing he was fearful, made this all so much worse.

...

Sudden and hard knocks on the door startled Paul, bringing his attention away from his book, and rushing to answer it. When he opened the door, it felt like the wind was punched right out of him. It was almost eleven pm, and he still would have been less surprised to be met with girl scouts than what was really there.

A girl stood shivering, the top of her head only reaching his chin, and her small frame curled into itself. Her eyes were cast to the ground, as she nervously shifted from one foot to another. What had him most shocked, was the black eye, busted lip, and almost broken looking nose. The girl was a complete wreck, and before he could ask her anything, she was talking.

"Are you the guy with the room-mate ad thing up?" She rushed out, her voice surprisingly coarse, and deeper than expected.

"Uh- yeah. Yeah, that's me. I'm P-"

"Paul. I know." She spat out, not upset, but clearly in pain as she winced and held her chest tighter. He suddenly realized she was probably hurt worse than what he could see.

"Do I need to call someone, or-"

"Has anyone moved in yet?"

Paul blinked, stuttering for a second. "No they, uh, haven't. Why?"

The girl finally looked up at him, pinning him in place with a pair of green orbs that looked much too mature for her age. But then, as he looked closer, he was surprised once more. Despite what he originally thought, the girl actually looked more like a woman upon further inspection.

"I... I need a place to stay."

He opened his mouth, but she started to ramble fearfully.

"I have a job. I can pay rent and whatever, I just need somewhere I don't..." She trailed off, looking back down as rain dripped from her hazel hair, darkened by the water held there. "...I don't have to worry."

Worry about who did this to you. Paul supplied internally. Opening the door wider, he nodded inside.

"Come on, I'll make us some tea."

It took until they were sat quietly at his table, sipping some chamomile tea, that he finally thought to ask.

"How old are you?"

She jumped, and hid a wince as it jostled her bruised body. "Oh, I'm eighteen."

Paul hummed, setting his mug down. "Aright. I just have one more question."

The girl swallowed, anticipating him to ask who was responsible for her current appearance. "O-okay."

"What's your name?"

She paused, thrown by his avoidance of questioning her cuts and bruises. "My name?"

He nodded, sipping his tea.

"O-oh. It's Niagara. But, um, most people just call me Nye."

Paul smiled, standing and putting his mug in the sink. "Okay. It least I'm not just calling you "Rocky" in my head now."

Nye huffed a surprised laugh, caught off guard by this stranger's nonchalance towards her. An ease she wasn't used to settled over her, once she knew he wasn't someone who was going to pry. Not at first anyway.

Paul turned his back to the sink, leaning on it as he braced his hands on the edge of the counter. "Okay, when can you start to move in?"

Nye's mug slowly fell from her lips, her eyes widening as she stared at him in restrained hope. "Really?"

Paul shrugged. "Yeah, why not."

Nye bit her lips together, pushing down what he was sure to be a beautiful smile. Shooting to her feet, she ran to the door, stepped outside, and rushed right back inside holding a duffel bag. She sheepishly fiddled with the strap, face flushing. "I-is tonight okay?"

Paul smiled and shook his head amusedly. "Yeah, tonight's fine Nye."

Again, for the second time that night, someone banged on the door, rattling the decorative knocker hanging, which was throttled shortly thereafter when no one immediately answered.

Nye set down her mug and bolted, face drawn in disbelief, as she swung the door open. A smaller form barreled into hers, gripping her tightly, and despite the way she winced and grimaced in obvious pain, she embraced the new arrival just as hard. They both swayed gently, and Paul watched in mild fascination.

"How did you get here?" Nye mumbled into the boy's hair.

"Rode my bike." He answered back, pulling away to take in the damage. "I'm gonna fucking kill him, I swear-"

"Honey," Nye laughed, petting his disheveled brown hair down. "Calm down."

The boy, who seemed to be in his teens, frowned and fell silent, his gaze flickering to every injured part of her.

"And are you seriously telling me you rode all the way out here, in the rain?" Nye asked, tone begging for him to say he was joking.

He shifted, face turning a hue darker as he muttered a hushed affirmation, as if the soaked clothes wasn't enough evidence. As he moved to step closer to the pair, the floor creaked under Paul's feet, making the boy jump and narrow his eyes.

"Who the fuck are y-"

Nye slapped a hand over the boy's mouth, muffling the rest as she chuckled uncomfortably. "This is Paul, the guy who I was talking to you about." She hissed the last few words.

The boy nodded slowly, no longer staring at the man so standoffishly. A few words came through her hand, hindered by it and made totally undecipherable. When she let him go, albeit hesitantly, he rubbed his jaw as he glared heavily at the older man.

Paul smiled tensely, glancing from him to Nye a couple of times before the boy finally spoke.

"You letting her stay?"

"Ye-"

"Good." He nodded sturdily, taking Nye's hand and dragging her over towards the couch. "You got a first aid kit?"

"Yes I-"

"Where?"

Paul scratched the back of his head. "Uh, in the hall closet."

The boy wordlessly walked off, in search for the kit. Nye sheepishly ducked her head, clearly a bit embarrassed.

"Sorry about him."

Paul waved her off. "It's no problem, but uh, who exactly was that?"

Nye perked back up, turning her head toward where the boy disappeared off to. "That was Shepherd. My little brother."

Paul frowned in concern. "Does he, I mean, you know..."

"Get the shit get kicked out of him?"

Paul flinched, but hummed in a confirming way.

Nye barked a mirthless laugh, looking down at the floor beneath her scuffed shoes. "God, how much I wish I could say no." She raked a hand through her hair, catching a few tangles, but forcing her fingers onwards down to the tips. "It's not as bad, but it's still..."

"Too much."

Nye looked up, blinking away a misty sheen that looked one step away from being true tears. "Yeah, exactly."

When Shepherd came back with the first aid, he wasted no time patching her up as best he could. And as Paul watched, he got the feeling that there was a much bigger story behind these siblings than what was let on.

...

Everything was wet, and uncomfortable. But no one was able to keep awake long after their fight to keep the Walkers out. After an agonizing twenty minutes, which easily felt longer than an hour, the Walkers had passed, losing interest in them and being steered away by the high winds.

Nye's head snapped upwards as she woke up. Vision blurry, she rubbed at her eyes, her palms pressing painfully into them. With a deep breath, she looked down, being met by the tops of three heads.

Lips twitching, too tired to give a full smile, Nye gently moved her kids off of her one by one. Something in her nearly melted, as Mason unconsciously curled his arms around Toby and Lydia.

Shuffling brought Nye to look up, spotting Maggie walking to the doors, holding the pink music box Carl had recently gifted her after finding it in the abandoned cars. Raising to her feet, Nye quietly jogged over and tapped her arm.

"Care for company?"

Outside looked like a war zone. Trees had splintered and fallen, leaving debris everywhere. Walkers laid, mangled and twisted by the winds, most of them looked like they didn't have a single unbroken bone. Maggie and Nye didn't bother killing them as a result, after all there was no chance of any of them to get up and attack. The ground sunk in with every step, mud caking their shoes after only a few paces.

Maggie lead the way, stopping a short walk away from the barn, and picking a collapsed tree at seemingly random. Patting the spot next to her, Maggie signaled for Nye to sit.

Dropping down, Nye let out a sigh as she crossed her ankles and rested her elbows on her knees. Before them stretched on a thick field, its perimeter enclosed by the woods they had just been hiding in for the past three weeks. The sky was clear, having used up all of its bad weather last night, now they were left with only a couple wispy clouds floating along.

Pinks and oranges mingled as the sun rose, slowly casting a gentle light on them. While Maggie took it in, Nye turned her head, watching the other brunette instead.

"Why are we here?"

"For this." Maggie plainly answered.

Nye looked back out, fingers idly toying with the tears in her jeans. "...Do you want to talk about it?"

Maggie inhaled, knowing that she was going to ask that. "What's the point?"

Nye paused, pondering that for a moment. Slowly reaching in her pocket, she pulled out one of the photos. "I... I learned that it helps."

Maggie glanced down at the picture, having never seen it before, as she had been busy keeping Nye from succumbing to hypothermia at the time that the two boys had shared it with the group.

"I ever tell you about him?" Nye asked, despite knowing the answer.

Maggie shook her head. "No, but Glenn's mentioned him."

Nye nodded at that, not surprised. "I lost him long before any of this. And I'm not going to lie, it still hurts. But given time, it'll start to hurt less. I promise."

Passing it over, Maggie took the photo gently, fingertips barely even touching the edges, fearful of somehow damaging it. It had been taken at such a high point in Nye's life, shown obviously by the bright smiles on her and Shepherd's faces.

"How old was he?"

Nye stiffened, and then sagged imperceptibly. "He was sixteen." She uttered under her breath.

Maggie bit her lip, handing the photo back. "I'm s-"

"Don't." Nye cut her off carefully, tone giving a faint warning of oncoming tears. "You of all people have no reason to apologize."

Watching her tuck it away back in her pocket, Maggie held her arms closer to her body as she asked the question that had been gnawing on her mind for weeks.

"You haven't cried. Why?"

Nye smiled bitterly, refusing to look up at the only remaining Greene. "I just can't. Not yet."

Maggie furrowed her brows, moving to ask why. But Nye finally let go the reason.

"When we're safe. When we're not always looking over our shoulders. When my kids have a bed to sleep in again, then I can cry." She scoffed at herself, shaking her head and kicking up some mud. "Then I can cry about everything."

The prison falling. Hershel. The baby she found back in that cabin. Terminus. Bob. The message left agonizingly in her own skin. The loss of a cure. Beth. Tyreese's bite and amputation.

When the dust settles, and the constant noose tightening around her neck finally goes slack, when she can rest, that's when she can cry. Because otherwise, she would only become a burden to the group once she let it all go.

Maggie nodded, knowing where she was coming from. Reaching over, she started to wind up the music box. Nye glanced over at it curiously, having thought it didn't work.

"Daryl fixed it." Maggie explained, watching the tiny ballerina inside as the mechanisms whirred while she spun the key.

Nye cracked a small smile, humming understandingly. "He's good at things like that."

Opening the box, the two women waited for it to start playing, but all it provided was a metallic click. The ballerina didn't move, and not a single note played.

"You got to be kiddin' me." Maggie chuckled.

Sharing a rare laugh together, the women moved to stand and head back to the barn. Maggie temporarily set down the box to push herself up. Nye followed her, securing her holster as she stood. When Maggie went to pick the pink box back up, something made her freeze.

"Hey."

A fear Nye had almost forgotten the feeling of, coursed through her, turning her blood to ice and her lungs to stone. Both women whipped around, guns out and aimed at the unknown person who the voice belonged to. A man, with short curly brown hair walked slowly toward them, but stopped when he saw the guns. He had his hands up, clearly afraid of being shot, but also seeming like he didn't fully believe they would do it, as he resumed taking hesitant steps closer.

"Hi. I didn't mean to interrupt." He spoke again, hands still high away from the gun tucked in his own holster. "Good morning. My name is Aaron."

Nye exchanged bewildered glances with Maggie, eyes wide, with brows drawn low. The man was absurdly clean, his clothes not having a single blood stain or tear. Somehow, someway, this man looked like he was straight from 2010.

"I know, this is... Stranger, danger, but... I'm a friend." Aaron assured, close enough now for them to see that he was cleanly shaven too. "I-I'd like to talk to the person in charge... Rick, right?"

Nye went rigid. "The fuck do you know his name?"

"Why?" Maggie asked lowly, gun never wavering.

Aaron smiled, wide and appearing genuine. "I have good news."

With another click, the music box began playing.

Nye and Maggie looked to each other once again, wondering how things went so unexpected, so fast. All the short brunette knew though, was there was a strong feeling in her gut.

But, the weird thing was, it was a good feeling for once.