AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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"Hey—hey—take it easy," Daryl said. "You don't gotta do everything yourself. You don't. Hey—listen to me, damn it."

He caught Andrea, from behind, with his hands on her shoulders. She noticeably stiffened. Her muscles went harder than they already were under the strain of trying to support the dead weight of her sister's corpse. She'd moved her this far from the pile without Daryl, who had been busy digging, noticing what she was doing.

"She's my sister," Andrea breathed out.

They were relatively alone, even though they were surrounded by people. Everyone was busy with something. There were graves to be dug—deep enough to keep the animals out even if six true feet probably wasn't happening in the hard soil and unforgiving sunlight. There were bodies to be moved. There were Walkers to be transferred and burned, and fires to be watched. There was water to be boiled for drinking, and cleaning, and there was food to be prepared for those that could stand to stomach anything.

And there was mourning to be done.

"Hey—put her down, OK? Just for a minute, Andrea. Let's put her down."

Daryl slipped his hands under the body and helped Andrea lower the corpse to the ground. At that moment, he was far more worried about his sister-in-law than he was anybody or anything else at the camp. Daryl turned Andrea to face him and held her shoulders. She wiped at her eyes with her wrists, avoiding the possibility of getting anything from her hands into her eyes.

"Listen to me," Daryl said, "we're gonna bury Amy, OK? Respectfully. I'ma help you. Carol's comin' with Sophia. She's not gonna be more'n a couple minutes. You and me are gonna get her in this grave, OK? But you gotta let me help you. And when we get her buried, we're gonna get you a bath. Somethin' to eat. And you're goin' to at least close your eyes and pretend you're sleepin' before I have to hit you in the back of the head and knock your ass out."

Daryl couldn't get even the slightest glimmer of humor out of her.

"I should've taken care of her, Daryl," Andrea said. "I should've protected her. My parents would have expected me to…take care of her."

"The last thing you or anybody else needs right now is pilin' your parents' guilt on top of everything else," Daryl said. "They been shovelin' that shit on you for as long as I've known you. There ain't room for it in no more. Not in this world."

"I didn't take care of her," Andrea said.

"What were you supposed to do? Predict somethin' none of us saw coming? Amy was bit before we ever even knew there were Walkers."

Andrea stared at him, but she gently nodded her head just enough to let him know that, even if she didn't agree with him, she was willing to humor him for a little while.

"You ready to let's—see her off?" Andrea's chin quivered, but she steeled herself and nodded again. "Switch sides with me. I'ma get her shoulders and go down in the hole. I don't want you breakin' a leg out here."

Together, they got Amy's body into the grave that was dug for her. Andrea asked to be helped down into the grave, and Daryl obliged her. He watched her as she rearranged her sister's body, making sure that it lay just like she wanted it to in the hole. Daryl didn't bother her, and he didn't let anyone else bother her. Every person, as he saw it, could grieve in whatever way they needed to grieve. If part of Andrea processing one loss in a very large chain of losses was making sure that she felt her loved one was buried "correctly," then Daryl could humor her and stand by the hole while she took an extra five minutes to arrange Amy's body.

By the time that Andrea was satisfied—or as satisfied as she was likely to get—and Daryl had pulled her up out of the hole, Carol had arrived with Sophia. Dale had also joined them at the graveside. He'd spent much of the earliest hours of the morning sitting with Andrea, and he'd been one of the few people that she'd allowed in her presence by not threatening, in any way, to disturb her sister's remains until Andrea, herself, was ready to deal with the loss.

Daryl was happy to see him show up for the makeshift funeral, and he felt a rush of appreciation when he affectionately dropped an arm around Andrea's shoulder, with Carol holding her from the other side, to offer his quiet condolences.

None of them really knew what to say at a funeral such as this and, arguably, Andrea hadn't been as close to her sister as she might have once dreamed they could be. Andrea might blame herself for the distance between her and Amy, but Daryl knew that there had been a great deal more than that at play. The years between them created something of a natural rift. Instead of Andrea stepping in to take something of a parental role with Amy, though, like Merle had done with Daryl, Andrea had been pushed to the outer edges of her sister's life. It had been Andrea's parents, in Daryl's opinion, that had been mostly to blame. They disapproved of Andrea, and they didn't disguise that in any way. They disapproved of her choices—particularly where Merle was involved—and they taught Amy to disapprove of Andrea before she was even old enough to understand what it was that she was supposed to find distasteful about her sister's life. They taught Amy that she was superior to Andrea—that she would fly higher and go farther. And, even though Andrea might have been willing to support her sister's pursuit of everything she wanted in life, she was human and was naturally hurt by her parents' decision to punish her for her choices by, essentially, dubbing her the "bad" child. She was hurt even more when she realized that Amy believed them.

Andrea delivered the eulogy for her sister, which mostly consisted of a few old memories and the lamentation that Amy had died far too young, and then Daryl had sent her on with Carol, despite her attempts to argue with him, for the food, bath, water, and rest that might bring her back from starting to look like a Walker herself.

Dale had stayed behind to help throw shovelfuls of dirt into the hole and cover up the young woman. He was normally talkative, and sometimes excessively so, but he seemed to read the moment well. He seemed to understand that Daryl was tired in a way that sleep wouldn't solve at the moment, and he didn't want to fill this working time with idle chitchat or even heavy discussion about everything that was happening to his family. Dale guarded the silence with Daryl and simply got the job done.

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"Any sleepin' goin' on?" Daryl asked as Carol approached him. He handed her the mug of coffee he'd been saving for her because he knew she wouldn't get any if he didn't practically run away with it. She groaned quietly as she sat down beside him, and then she offered him a quiet thanks for the beverage. He was sitting just on the edge of camp. From the spot he'd chosen, he could see the fires that were still burning Walkers as people took turns tending to them and dragging wood over that would keep the flames hot enough to consume the bodies. He could just barely see the mourners still paying respects in the newly created graveyard. He could see the camp where people walked around looking like Walkers themselves, and he could see the tents where those that were choosing to turn in early were sleeping.

Soon, night would fall over them like a blanket. It would cover them entirely. It would call an end to a day that seemed like it had lasted twenty-four years instead of twenty-four hours.

Carol sighed next to Daryl and turned her neck, dramatically, so that he could hear it pop when the bones slid back into something like alignment.

"Andrea was fighting it," Carol said. "But—Sophia's a good nurse. She ignored her. Took her doll, and crawled right on up against her." Carol laughed to herself. "She's forcing Andrea to spoon her."

"Andrea won't tell Sophia no for everything in the world," Daryl said.

"She'll be asleep soon just because Sophia's making her hold still," Carol said.

Daryl lit a cigarette. His own mug of cool coffee was practically empty, so he finished it off and dropped an arm around Carol's shoulder. She moved closer to him and fit herself against him like she often did, making them almost like puzzle pieces fitted together while they sat on the ground.

"You oughta know that—people are talkin' about breakin' camp. Leavin'."

"People?" Carol asked.

"Everyone, really," Daryl said. "That one family left already. Not twenty minutes ago. What were their names—Brent and Lisa or whatever?"

"Where are they going?" Carol asked.

"Said they got family in Pennsylvania. Think it might be safer up there."

"Why would they think that?"

Daryl laughed to himself.

"You want my honest opinion? They probably don't think that. Hell—they prob'ly like the rest of us. Don't know what the fuck to think at any turn. They just know they don't feel safe here no more. Don't feel safe at their home—wherever it was. Atlanta's a bust. Hell—they're lookin' for something, that's all."

"Everybody else?" Carol asked.

Daryl hummed.

"Mexican family's headin' to Alabama tomorrow. First thing in the morning. They didn't want to take the chance like that other group and head out just when it's gettin' dark. I been collectin' conversations. I think that everyone's just about ready to look for something else."

"What else is there to look for?" Carol asked.

Daryl took a long drag on his cigarette. He blew out the smoke in a sigh.

"I don't know, exactly," he said. "But—shelter. Tents are fine for now, but the winter's gonna catch our asses out here. We could prob'ly be OK for a while, but none of us are really equipped to be winterin' hard out in some tents, and Merle ain't here to give us no tips. I was overhearin' what Shane was sayin'. I gotta admit, he ain't wrong."

"What was he saying?" Carol asked.

"That we could stand to find some protection. Something better'n string and tin cans. A good fence. Something that could hold the Walkers out if they were to even just come wanderin' through like we think they done last night," Daryl said.

"What's everyone else saying?" Carol asked.

Daryl hummed to himself and lit a second cigarette off the one that he was finishing up.

"All over the damned place. One of the people's bit."

"Walker bit?" Carol asked. Daryl felt her tense as she pulled way from him to see his face better. He pulled her back and rubbed his hand over her back to relax her a little.

"Seen it while we were finishin' coverin' some holes. That Jim guy. He was just gonna keep it to himself, I guess, until he died. But we seen it. Know it's there, now."

"Daryl—that's fatal," Carol said. "And it means he'll turn into one of those things." Daryl hummed his agreement.

"Don't know how long it takes to run its course," Daryl said. "But he's already startin' to show some signs of a fever. Camp's of a divided mind. Some think it'd be better for him to just—let someone shoot him. Put him outta his misery quick. But he don't want that, and we're on a slippery slope if we shoot him against his will. So, naturally, others think he oughta be allowed to die on his own like he wants right now. That asshole, Rick? He's suggestin' that we oughta head for the CDC in Atlanta."

"Why would we do that?" Carol asked.

"CDC is built to withstand like nuclear war," Daryl said. "If they know anything about this…how to stop it? CDC is where they gonna be workin' on that. He thinks we ought to take Jim there."

"Atlanta's overrun," Carol said.

"Might can get through with the vehicles," Daryl said.

"And we might get stuck, too," Carol said. "What do you want to do, Daryl? What do you think is best?"

"What I wanna do is wake the fuck up an' be back in our house and none of this shit be real," Daryl said. "But since I can't do that…I think that Shane's willin' to at least try the CDC. I have to admit—I'd rather eat mud than give into a single damn thing that asshole, Rick, wants, but…I kinda see where Shane's comin' from. We could at least see if there's anything there we can learn."

"Right into all those Walkers?"

"Just check it out at least. We can leave it," Daryl said, "if we don't like the looks of it. Head somewhere else. Look for that shelter and them fences. There's an assload of farmland and shit around us. We're bound to find somethin' at least halfway decent. Buy us some time to figure out what the hell we're really gonna do. Where we go from here. But if there's a cure or whatever, it might be worth findin' out."

"What about Merle?" Carol asked.

"I think if I can tell Andrea she's gotta face the facts about Amy, maybe I gotta face the facts about Merle," Daryl said. "Maybe she does too. We're gettin' closer to that forty-eight hours. He ain't back yet."

"Do you think he's dead?" Carol asked. "Just between us."

"I don't wanna think it," Daryl said, "but that was a lot of blood. Merle—he was smart. He'da made a tourniquet best he could outta his belt or some shit. He tried to cauterize the wound. Found proof of that. But—Carol, I don't know how much blood a body's got in it, but I know that was a lotta damn blood trailed through that buildin'. Then he went out the fuckin' door. Out in all them things—bleedin' like that, prob'ly weak as shit. Maybe trippin' on some fuckin' drugs he got somewhere."

"We don't have to go to the CDC," Carol said. "We can stay here. If the numbers shrink—it's not so loud and there's not so much light at night…Daryl, maybe the Walkers won't come back through here."

"And we're still tryin' to winter hard," Daryl said. "Whether we go to the CDC or not, we gotta find shelter before it gets too cold, and I don't know what I could build us in a hurry without preparation or even proper supplies. I don't like leavin' the camp, Carol. I don't like thinkin' it might be time to give up on Merle and figure—like I been worryin' would happen for years—that he's just gotten killed now, but I think this might be a time when we'd do better to have some numbers. If we go to the CDC, all of us together, it gives me a last look at Atlanta. Just—some fool idea I might just see him, I guess. Other part of me thinks—Merle woulda thought about the CDC, maybe. He's smart like that. Maybe he'd figure they might could save him." He squeezed Carol against him, happy to simply have the feeling of her there—something tangible and solid. Someone he could rely on. He'd known her relatively little time in the grand scheme of things, but he felt like he'd known her forever. His soul, maybe, had always known she was there—somewhere.

"I don't know what's going on," Daryl continued. "Or what's gonna happen. What I do know is that—you and Andrea both need some lessons to get better at takin' care of yourselves and everybody else. I don't mean that bad, just…somethin' we need more of if we're gonna be fightin' whole herds of these things. And I know that Andrea's in a real bad way right now. Real bad. I don't wanna set off not knowin' what the hell we're doin' or how we're gonna do it by ourselves. Not until I'm sure she's got both her fuckin' feet planted on the ground." Daryl laughed to himself. "Merle would come back from the dead, himself, and kill my ass if I just let her get torn apart…or worse. She's my responsibility now."

"You don't have to carry the weight of the world," Carol offered.

"If Andrea's the weight of the world, that's a weight I wanna carry," Daryl said. "I'd expect the same damn thing of Merle. It's just what the hell Dixons oughta do."

"We'll take care of Andrea," Carol offered. "Both of us will."

"What do you want to do, Carol?" Daryl asked. "I don't wanna be the one makin' the decision for everyone."

"I want to—go with you," Carol said. "Wherever that is, Daryl."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"That don't exactly help make a decision."

Carol sighed.

"I don't know the right answer any more than you do."

"But you know which way you're leaning."

"If there's a chance for a cure—maybe we ought to at least look into it."

"You wanna go to the CDC with—what appears to be the bulk of the group, at least?"

"As long as we're all going together," Carol said, "the CDC's as good as anywhere."