AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

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

111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

"That's a pretty serious injury to overcome in this world."

The doctor, who was driving the truck, actually sounded human when she spoke this time. Before, when she'd been detaching tubes from his body, Merle had almost been able to believe she was some kind of medical android. Almost all of her questions, and all her responses, had been medical in nature—and rushed.

The Governor wanted them to leave for Merle's campsite as soon as possible. The hope was that they would retrieve Merle's family—and anyone else he wanted to bring with him—and they'd return to Woodbury before the sun went down. If they were going to make that kind of progress, Alice had explained while doing what she needed to free Merle from his medical prison, then they were going to have to get a move on and they didn't have time to waste with pleasantries and idle conversation.

She was wound tight, but Merle decided that it might be an occupational hazard for anyone who would work in the medical profession right in the middle of the shitshow in which they now found themselves.

They took two vehicles. The Governor and a man that Merle only met with a quick introduction—his name already forgotten—took one truck, and Alice, the doctor, drove a second truck with Merle riding shotgun. They wanted to be sure that they could bring back people and supplies while also not having to argue with anyone that they might be leaving behind about the vehicles at the camp.

Merle let Alice drive in silence, mostly because he believed that's what she wanted, so he was surprised with the brunette broke the silence herself.

"Weren't by fuckin' choice," Merle said.

"Meth," she mused. "In this world? That's pretty fucking bold."

Merle laughed to himself, struck by the comment.

"Maybe if you ain't just a fucked-up addict," he mused.

"If you're thinking about using again, I can tell you that it won't go over well. The Governor won't want to deal with a drug addict in Woodbury."

Merle hummed.

"I got zero damn intention of using again," he said.

"Bet you've said that before," Alice said. "I can hear it in your voice."

"This time it cost me my hand," Merle said. "My brother."

"Andrea?"

"I guess everybody knows about her," Merle said.

"You hardly said a single other word since they found you," Alice said. "You had a tough time coming off the meth with the blood loss and the trauma. Still, you never even asked me for water—or to kill you. Not like I expected. You just wanted Andrea."

Merle's gut twisted.

"I know, now, she's the only damn thing I ever wanted," Merle said. "Just too fuckin' stupid to realize it before. Let the damn drugs fuck that up—thinkin' they could help me find some fuckin' astral plane I couldn't achieve on my own or some shit like that."

"It's OK," Alice said.

"It ain't, but it's done," Merle said with a sigh. "You gonna—turn up there. You gotta slow down now, because you ain't gonna see the road 'til you on it."

Alice followed instructions well. She slowed the truck almost to a stop, signaling for the vehicle behind her, and found the almost impossible little road that Merle indicated.

"You gonna just follow it for a little while," he offered, sitting back. "Can I smoke?"

"Only if you're willing to share," Alice said.

Merle laughed to himself.

"Only if you're willin' to light," he said, tossing the cigarette pack and the lighter in Alice's direction. She offered him a cigarette from his own pack and, when he took it between his lips, she flicked the lighter and held it out to him for him to lean and light his own cigarette while she kept her eyes on the road. Then she lit one for herself and rolled down her window, so he followed suit. "So—tell me about the Governor. What's his real name?"

"I don't know," Alice said. "Everyone just calls him the Governor."

"You don't think that shit's strange?"

"I think—most shit's strange these days," Alice said.

"Can't argue with that way of thinkin'," Merle mused. "But you—like him?"

"He saved my life," Alice said. "Same as he saved yours."

"You weren't handcuffed to a roof in Atlanta," Merle said.

"No," Alice said. "I was trapped in a mobile emergency unit set up just outside of Woodbury, actually. When the whole thing started it was an all-hands-on-deck thing, you know? Emergency situation. National. Everyone was getting sick. Nobody knew what was happening or how to stop it. I came down from South Carolina with a bunch of my colleagues and jumped into it. The small towns needed help, too, so we dispatched mobile units. The last radio call we got was that—Atlanta had fallen. Just like that. That's what they said. Like a war zone. I can still hear the voice. Atlanta had fallen and they never said another word."

"That's when the Governor found you?"

"Not right away," Alice said. "I was there long enough for most everyone else to leave or die. Or both. Everyone who left, died, I think. Just about the time I was trying to decide my preferred method of suicide with what I had left, he showed up."

"Why didn't you just—run for it?"

"I'm weak," Alice said, matter-of-factly. "Where would I run? Just somewhere else to get stuck until I ran again. I can't even run that fast. They would've caught me. I have a place in Woodbury, though. I work when there's work to do, and I eat and sleep without too much worry about the monsters that lurk in the dark."

"So, the Governor's an OK guy? Like—he ain't as crazy as he seems to call himself the fuckin' Governor with no other name?" Merle asked.

Alice laughed to herself, but it didn't sound sincere.

"Is there anyone that isn't crazy now?" Alice asked.

The statement struck Merle. What struck him more was the absolutely innocent sound behind the words. She simply meant them, and that was it.

"I guess…" Merle mused.

"I just pulled you through the DTs from meth," Alice said. "Got you over cutting your own hand off with a hacksaw. People who are dead don't usually even seem to stay dead, these days, and that was one thing I had come to count on in the world. I can't be the only one who's not feeling like I'm living with the greatest amount of clarity I've ever had in my whole damn life."

Merle laughed to himself.

"You got me there, Doc," Merle said. "But—maybe I should say…other than the daily, run of the mill, bein' fuckin' nuts…he's a good guy?"

"He saved my life," Alice said. "And he saved your life. He's…as good a guy as I've seen since the world went to hell in a handbasket."

Merle accepted Alice's words because, honestly, he had no other choice. Like Alice, he felt a little like he was drifting—existing in a state of perpetual exhaustion—and the man who had saved them both was no stranger than many other people that Merle had met in his life. In his defense, Woodbury had seemed like a nice town, and it did seem safe. And, besides that, Merle hadn't lost his life in the streets of Atlanta when, really, he probably should have.

And now they were going to get Daryl's family and Andrea to take them back to Woodbury where they could all be safe.

Alice followed directions well, and pulled her truck to a stop right where Merle had asked her to.

If it hadn't been for the other abandoned vehicles and some few signs that once people had been there, Merle might have thought that he'd made the whole damn campsite up.

He was vaguely aware that the doctor followed on his heels and the Governor and his right-hand man were close by as well. They remained, in his mind, somewhat distant. Maybe Alice was right. Maybe none of them were sane anymore.

Merle certainly didn't feel sane as he struggled just to get his breath and walked the full area of the camp and the land beyond it.

They were gone and, from the signs they'd left behind, they were gone for good.

The empty, abandoned campsite was enough to make Merle sick to his stomach. It was enough to make his knees feel like they weren't stable enough to hold him.

But what he found, later, was enough to make him wish that they'd left him in Atlanta, right where they'd found him.

He jumped when he felt pressure on his shoulder, and he turned to see the brunette standing there.

"I guess they left," she said. "Maybe they're close by. Maybe we can—look for something. Some signs of a fire or…something, right? Maybe we can find them."

"These weren't here," Merle said, gesturing toward the graves. They weren't freshly dug—not within the past few hours—but they weren't old enough for the dirt to have fully settled. He could clearly tell where each of the graves was.

"Maybe something happened," the Governor said. "Maybe biters attacked."

"Or that fuckin' asshole that cost me my damn hand attacked 'em for some fucked up reason," Merle said. "Officer Fuckin' Friendly coulda killed 'em for all I know."

"We can search the area, can't we?" Alice asked, turning toward the Governor with the same kind of supplication a child might have for their parents. The man's overall hard expression softened.

"Of course," he said. "I'll—send a team. Have them spread out. If they're in the area, we'll find them."

"Right now—I got somethin' I gotta do," Merle said. "There shovels in either of them trucks?"

"There are tools in the back of our truck," the Governor said. "I'm sure a shovel or two is among them."

"What are you going to do?" Alice asked.

Merle gestured toward one of the graves.

"That's an 'A'," he said. Just saying it made him feel like his lungs might explode. His heart might explode. Maybe he'd die right there in the dirt with the good doctor trying pathetically to save his life. If he did—and if his greatest worries were correct—maybe they'd put him right into the hole he planned to excavate. "An 'A' made outta rocks."

"Weren't there other As?" Alice asked. Merle nodded his head. "It's probably just…one of them."

"Still," Merle said. "I gotta fuckin' know. You understand—or you don't. But I gotta fuckin' know."

Alice nodded.

"Then let's get some shovels," she said. "I could use a little exercise."

"You ain't gotta do my dirty work for me, Doc," Merle said.

"And you're in no condition to dig," Alice said. "Besides—maybe, like everybody else, I just hope that someone would do it for me. If I ever needed it, of course."

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

Sophia had not handled her blood draw well at all, and now she sat wrapped around her mother and sobbed while Carol did her best to comfort her and rock her. She was exhausted, she was hungry, and she was scared. If Daryl were being honest, a tiny part of him wouldn't have minded indulging in the same kind of show of emotion in an attempt to blow off steam.

Daryl had helped Carol to take her seat after she'd given up what Daryl considered a ridiculous amount of blood because he knew how lightheaded and dizzy he'd felt when Jenner had finished with him. Carol hadn't complained, but she was one of those people who simply didn't complain. She'd been taught, by her ex, that complaining would only make any suffering that she endured worse.

Now, Daryl stood with his hands on Andrea's shoulders as Jenner finished drawing the blood from her veins.

"What's the point?" Andrea asked. "If we were sick, you'd know. We'd have fevers. We'd be screaming for mercy. For you to kill us or just let us die. We know, we've seen it before."

"Believe me," Jenner said, "I know what it looks like, too. This is the CDC, though, and it's common practice to submit to a test if you want to enter here, and especially if you want to stay. Let me do my due diligence."

"What are you even testin' us for? Just the virus you know we ain't got?"

"I test for everything," Jenner said. "Whether it matters or not."

"That must be why you're—taking so much blood," Andrea said.

Jenner seemed amused.

"Don't worry. You've got plenty to spare," he assured her in the same kind of tone one might use to placate a child. "There. You're done. Hold this in place."

Andrea pressed the cotton ball to the crook of her arm and stood up to make room for Jacqui who was coming to take her place in the chair. Daryl moved his hands to her arms to offer her support, and she stopped her forward progress for a moment and closed her eyes. She covered her mouth with her hand and made the unmistakable sound in her throat of someone swallowing down a retch.

Daryl rubbed her arms.

"Breathe through it," he offered. She nodded her head.

"What's wrong?" Jenner asked. "Is she OK?"

"No," Daryl said. "She ain't fuckin' OK. None of us are fuckin' OK. She's in mourning. She ain't hardly slept in days. Ain't eat a fuckin' meal in days. And—hell, now you drainin' us of the only damn thing we got left. What the fuck you expect?"

Immediately, Daryl stopped. Like Sophia bursting out with truly pathetic lamentations, his emotions had gotten the best of him. He hugged Andrea to him and started leading her toward the area of the room he'd silently claimed for his family.

"Sorry," he said. "It's just—we're tired. And hungry. And…every damn thing else."

Jenner didn't seem too bothered by Daryl's outburst. The lines on his forehead softened and he laughed to himself as he got Jacqui situated.

"Why didn't you say so?" He asked. "Let me finish here and—you'll have everything you need. There are plenty of beds. Plenty of food. Plenty of everything."

At least, Daryl thought, there was something good at the end of all of this. He could forgive Jenner even for his slightly callous way of acting if he could provide his family with all that he promised. A good meal and a good night of safety and rest had, honestly, never sounded better to Daryl in his whole life.