Disclaimer: I don't own the Walking Dead series or comics, or either set of characters. OCs and plot twists are all that's mine.

Who's That?

I dreamed of gunshots.

I blinked, opening my eyes as I was pulled from sleep. The sunshine was bright and the direction of the shadows told me it had to be about noon.

Maybe two o'clock?

I gasped at the realization that I'd slept over ten hours.

Holy crap! I thought, going for the bathroom.

I quickly finished my business, washed my hands and walked back to my bedroom.

I sighed, sitting on the bed. My energy was gone.

I still felt better, just less energetic.

A rhythmic knock announced the arrival of a familiar face.

"Get in here, goofball." I called, rolling my eyes and shaking my head fondly.

"How ya feelin'?" Willy asked, coming to sit at the edge of my bed. I grinned when I saw the covered plate in his hands.

Of course, I immediately accepted it and dug in.

I was happy to note that my appetite was up, which was a definite sign of improvement even if it was only a small degree of one. I'll take it!

"I'm feeling a small bit better. I can't believe I slept so late, though. Why didn't you wake me for breakfast?" I asked, smacking his arm. He knew I hated sleeping in like a sack of potatoes when there was stuff to do.

"You an' the young'n need the rest." He replied, rubbing a hand on my protruding stomach.

A door nearby shut and an unfamiliar voice passed my room.

I raised my eyebrows and turned to my brother. "What have I missed while I slept?"

His grin fell and his eyes lost their happy sparkle.

"A boy arrived this morning. Otis accidentally shot him during his hunt today." He responded, his voice low.

I gasped, my hands flying to my mouth.

That was terrible! The poor little boy! I couldn't imagine anything like that happening.

"Oh. That poor boy. Otis must be beside himself with guilt." I whispered, tears filling my eyes.

They were for the boy. They were for his surviving family. They were for the sweet man I knew was sick with guilt and shame over the accident.

"Otis has offered ta collect the supplies Herschel needs ta save the child."

"Where would he get medical supplies? The hospitals were closed or raided."

"The high school. There was a center set up, ambulances an' medical personnel. Otis can grab everythin' he needs from 'em. He may even be able ta get more than is needed."

"Willy, the high school was overrun."

"It's possible it cleared out by now."

It was a weak hope, there was no concrete proof to back up his words or Hershel would've sent Maggie there instead of to the pharmacy.

I shook my head, concerned. I had a bad feeling about this.

In a world where the dead eat the living, walking in blind to loot a place will end in death.

I walked laps around the inside of the house. Herschel had approved extra walk time today.

I hadn't seen or heard from a soul since I'd left my room.

Otis had left to make a grab for the supplies. My worry was still very much present, persistent, even.

I bit my lip, grabbing a tray with a few slices of fresh ham a wedge of cheese and a glass of ice water before heading back to my room.

I politely ignored any sounds I heard on the way to my room. It wasn't my business what went on in the other guest rooms.

Maggie had brought some books in for me. Willy had let slip one night at dinner how much I love reading, to my embarrassment. I was in the process of reading one called Never Cry Wolf.

It was. . .intriguing.

I'd always held the belief that books were portals that transported you wherever and whenever someone wanted to go.

I learned at least one new word each time I read.

I smiled at my baby bump. I would procure as many books as I could for my little one. I'd teach my child all that books could be.

I frowned when I heard a loud thump downstairs. Weeping followed immediately after.

I sucked in a sharp breath. No.

The door opened and my head jerked up. Willy walked in and closed the door, leaning against it with his head down.

"Willy?" I murmured, dread dropping in my stomach like a ton of lead.

It was one life or another. A boy who hadn't had a real chance to live or a good, kind man who only wanted to fix a terrible accident he caused. I didn't want to see either life extinguished. Part of me didn't want to know the answer, wanted to remain frozen in the unaware state I had been in just fifteen minutes before.

He lifted his head and unshed tears shone in his eyes.

I shook my head, sobs clawing their way up my throat.

No. No, no. Please God, no.

Otis.

"The boy made it through the surgery alright." Willy murmured softly from his spot next to me.

I'd curled up in bed and had been crying since I'd heard the news. I'd only known Otis for three weeks, but they counted to me.

Otis was a sweet man. He had a gentle soul. He had treated me with kindness and respect, accepted me even after hearing the news about my child's father.

He didn't deserve to be eaten alive by those things.

I wiped my cheeks and sat up in bed. "I'm glad the boy is alive and recovering, I am, but we lost someone we know. Otis was a good man, Willy, he didn't deserve what happened to him."

I know how horrible it seemed to not join in on the collective happiness. I had nothing against the child, I was relieved he'd survived, truly.

However, I couldn't pretend I hadn't suffered a loss.

Willy pulled me to him, cradling me against his side. "I know. I'm not gonna tell ya that yer wrong or that yer bein' sad is wrong. We did lose someone we knew. It's alright ta cry, Abilene."

I did.

Willy held me the rest of the night.

We hummed a familiar lullaby that put another face in mind until we drifted to sleep.

I opened my eyes to sunlight.

A new day.

I closed my eyes, willing yesterday to have never happened. I knew it was useless, but I willed it to be anyway.

Herschel was going to perform a burial ceremony with stones for Otis today.

It was the best we could do since we didn't have his body.

I sluggishly walked to they'd bathroom and released the pressure on my bladder.

I sat on the side of the bed, gathering the will to attend another funeral. I had witnessed more than I liked to remember, had had to assist in burying and identifying a few people I cared for, respected.

Well, this wasn't going away and sitting here moping wouldn't help matters. Time to face the music.

I attempted to stand, but my legs wouldn't cooperate. My energy level was at its lower points today.

A rapping on the door frame announced Maggie's presence. "Hey, are you coming down?"

I sighed.

"I haven't improved. I attempted to stand up just now. As you can clearly see, nothing happened." I answered dryly.

"Daddy said if you didn't feel up to it you shouldn't go down. He doesn't want you to push yourself too hard." The brunette responded, walking over to make sure I eased myself back into bed. "I'll tell daddy you don't have the energy, Patricia will understand."

"Thank you." I murmured quietly, my throat tight.

I wish I had the energy to go, to properly show her my support. It was true, I really didn't feel up to walking down the two sets of stairs required to journey outside. If I can't witness the burial in person, I'll just have to listen to it. I thought, nodding my head resolutely.

It would take a while for them to prepare. Herschel and the others would have to gather all the stones they'd use before they could begin.

I selected a more morose book from the collection and lay back on my elevated pile of pillows.

A loud engine and two quieter engines drew my attention from my novel.

What the heck was that? I wondered, listening. No one went out for a supply run. Willy was at the house and Jimmy was outside helping gather stones for Otis' memorial site, so no one went hunting. So, who was that?

Footsteps descended the stairs and the front door was opened.

Voices drifted up, but they were a bit distorted. I couldn't make out what was being said.

I shrugged and turned back to my book. If it was important enough, and concerned me, someone would fetch me or let me know.

I had read three more sad novels by the time noon struck and the squeaking of the wheelbarrow tires could be heard as the stones were brought to the site.

I started when my door opened.

Willy closed the distance in a few of his strides.

"What are you doing in here? You're going to miss the funeral." I said, furrowing my eyebrows.

Why would he come upstairs? He'd be able to support Patricia and Beth better outside, not inside. He wouldn't be able to hear as clearly, either.

"I know where I need ta be." He drawled in his southern accent. He drug a chair from the corner and set it beside the bed.

"But the funeral-"

"I can hear it from here, same as you." He cut me off, sitting in the chair. "Ya don't need ta be alone up here. There's enough of a crowd down there."

I smiled. Willy Pickens. Always thinking of others before himself.

"Alright. It might get boring up here." I warned him. I was only half joking.

"I can handle being in here for an hour." He replied with a snort, playfully nudging me.

I smacked his arm playfully back, turning the page. I felt a bit better knowing he was here. It helped, not being alone.

I'd gotten through six more pages when a very warm hand nudged my leg.

"It's time, Herschel's getting ready to start." Willy informed me, standing close to the window.

He'd opened it a few inches half an hour ago so we could hear better.

I tossed my book onto the nightstand and sat up straighter, adjusting my pillows for better support.

"We are gathered today to celebrate the life of a fellow man. Otis Hews. A husband, a friend, a neighbor." Herschel's voice drifted in the open window, a small bit muffled, but still audible.

I felt the need to move, so I began to walk laps around the bedroom. It was more appealing than staying propped up in that bed. I'd been doing nearly nothing but laying in bed for what seemed like weeks. Bed rest was boring, left a few places in my body sore from laying around and made me feel generally lazy. None of these things I enjoyed in the least.

On one of my laps I widened the loop, going too close to my bedside table and hitting the corner just right with my hip. My hand eye coordination has never been the best, so it was no surprise that I failed to catch the book before it fell to the floor with a soft thump.

I sighed, bending down to pick it up.

I grunted. The headache I'd sported for a good portion of the morning spiked, the pain increasing.

"Abilene?" Willy questioned, moving away from the window. "Are ya okay?"

I don't recall answering-just the strange weakened feeling, the pain throbbing harshly in my head, and the floor swiftly moving up to meet me.

Daryl P. O. V

The old guy, Horace? Herman?

Whatever.

The old guy was finishing up the service for that guy they lost. The stones had been stacked and mushy shit had been said about him.

Movement in the corner of my eye had me turning toward the house.

A man burst through the door, barreling down the stairs toward the group.

"Herschel!" He panted when he'd gotten closer. He stopped right in front of the old man, chest heaving, a panicked look in his eyes. "You need ta come, quickly."

'Herschel' changed his posture once those words were said. I didn't like the look he got in his eyes. I'd seen that look too many times in this group when things got bad.

Lori must've picked up on it as well. "Is it Carl?"

"No." He responded, handing the bible to the older gal and rolled up his sleeves. He started to walk away at a quick pace. "Maggie, Beth, I'm going to need your hands."

The brunette and younger blonde followed, jogging to keep up.

The stranger immediately ran to follow.

"What the fuck was that about?" I grit out, pointing to the house.

Lori shifted in place a few seconds and then she too streaked across the lawn.

I shook my head. "Done lost their damn minds."

Willy P. O. V

I ran ta Abilene as she collapsed, my heart stopping for a beat then restarting when I felt her chest rise an' fall. She was breathing.

It was short lived when the tremors racked her body, causin' me ta release her like she had instantaneously burst inta flames. Her limbs, head, an' torso jerking an' flailing like I'd only seen in those medical shows Abi watched before the world ended.

I watched helplessly, heart hammering in my chest, what felt like an eternity for the seizure ta stop.

I checked her pulse an' breathin', needing ta know if she was breathin', before hoppin' up an' runnin' for the stairs.

We need Hershel.

I ignored the group of strangers standing around Otis' grave with Patricia an' the Greene family, headin' straight for Hershel.

"Hershel!" I panted, stoppin' in front of the vet an' takin' a moment ta catch my breath. "You need ta come, quickly."

I didn't care about the conversation happening as I followed Hershel back ta the house, anxious ta get back to Abi. None of it mattered, if she wasn't okay. That's all I wanted ta know.

Maggie pressed on my chest when I tried ta follow Hershel inside. "You should stay outside, give us room to work. We'll take good care of her."

"I need to go in! What if she's-" I choked on the words, unable ta say it.

"Daddy will do everything he can. He needs space and quiet to think, if you go in there you'll distract him and she won't get the care she needs. The best thing you can do for her is wait here." She insisted, not unkindly.

I clenched my jaw, nodding.

She squeezed my shoulder and went into Abi's bedroom.

I turned ta begin pacing when I noticed a rail thin brunette lady from the funeral standing in the hallway a few feet away.

"The hell you doin' up here? This ain't no show!" I snarled. "This ain't yer business."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude." She said softly, backing away.

I watched her until she was gone, then paced a hole in the floor, waiting.

Abilene P. O. V.

I opened my eyes, the white ceiling of my bedroom coming into focus.

What? I was bending over to grab my book, how did I end up on my back?

The door opened and Herschel stepped through.

"Hershel?" I murmured, confused.

The vet immediately closed the distance to the bed, Maggie and Beth entering the room soon after.

"Beth grab a cool rag and a glass of water. Maggie get me the pressure cuff and stethoscope." He ordered, gently my hand in his and feeling for a pulse.

Maggie brought the stethoscope and pressure cuff. He took my blood pressure, his face betraying his worry. He quickly discarded the pressure cuff and grabbed the stethoscope. He pressed the metal circle against my chest and closed his eyes to listen, his eye brows furrowed in concentration.

Herschel sighed and nodded his head. "Your heart and lungs sound good, no signs of trouble breathing."

Beth returned with a small glass of ice water and a wet rag.

He turned to her and took both from her. He helped me tilt my head up for a drink and smooth the cool rag over my face.

I sighed. It felt heavenly.

"What happened?" I didn't want the vet to keep things from me. Something happened, for him to be here and perform an impromptu check up.

"Your blood pressure is concerning, as is your seizure this afternoon. What can you tell me about what happened?" He asked, handing the now warm rag and glass to Beth.

I furrowed my brow, thinking back.

"I had a headache that started some time this morning. It was nothing major at first, but it had gotten noticeably worse around when the funeral started. I had a desire to move around a bit, so I started walking laps around the bedroom. At some point, I knocked the book off my bedside table and bent to pick it up, but when I did the headache increased dramatically. That's all I remember." I finished, picking at a loose string in the worn quilt on my lap.

"I think your seizure was a one time occurrence, but to be sure I would like you to avoid similar situations in future whenever possible." Hershel said, patting my hand and standing to leave the room.

Dale P. O. V

Lori came out of the house soon after she went inside. Her eyes were wide and her walk slow, like she couldn't see what was ahead.

Shock.

Whatever had happened in that house had shocked her.

Rick grew concerned, approaching his wife and grabbing her shoulders. "What is it? Did something happen to Carl?"

"It wasn't Carl." She murmured, her voice breathy. "That poor thing. I can't even imagine. . ."

"What?" T-Dog asked what we were all thinking. "What are you talkin about?"

"It was someone else. It wasn't Carl." She repeated, continuing to walk toward the tent she shared with Rick.

I could only gather that something had happened in that house. Something that caused such a reaction in her.

It was anyone's guess what that something was.

Abilene P. O. V

I had been visited by Willy soon after Hershel left and he told me about the strange lady spying on us.

Who was she? Why was she on the farm? Didn't she know that it's considered rude to eavesdrop and spy on private situations?

I had been allowed to walk a few laps around my room, but couldn't walk up and down stairs.

Doctors orders.

I made a face at that thought. I didn't want to be stuck up here for another week or worse, even longer.

I had spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, reading or talking to Willy when he would come visit for breaks.

"Knock, knock." A very familiar southern voice twanged from my doorway.

"Come in, dork." I called, laughing at his antics.

"Okay, so yer feelin' better, that's awesome." He grinned, crossing the room in a few quick strides and leaning down to kiss my forehead.

"I have a better energy level today." I informed him happily, smiling.

"That's great." He paused, shifting on his feet subtly. The fingers of his left hand twitched.

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at the reveal of his nervous tell. Something was up.

"So, I was thinkin' that since yer feelin' better that I could do some errands." He began, eyeing my reaction carefully. "I know we're runnin' low on a lot of things, an'-"

Realization dawned.

"You're going on a run." I whispered.

He grimaced, expression guilty. "Yeah."

My good mood came crashing down. "Is anyone going with you?"

He nodded.

"Maggie volunteered. She'll grab what Herschel needs an' I'll get the general supplies. We were thinkin' of headin' out soon an' goin' out further-maybe ta an actual hospital. That will probably make it an overnight run." He rushed the last sentence, watching me.

"Are you crazy?!" I growled at him, fuming. "The hospitals were overrun because the morgues housed those things, they were breeding grounds for them! And you want to just waltz in and take what we need. This is by far one of your worst ideas and I will not support this!"

"I know how ya feel about runs like this, Abi, but we need these supplies. The pharmacy doesn't have what we need an' the hospital would. I have back up, we're takin' the truck so we have a better chance an' we'll take guns with us. We'll be super careful, I promise." He pinned me with sincere eyes.

There it was. The promise. He was serious about going on this run. He wanted my support.

I didn't want him to go. It was dangerous and the last time someone I knew went on a run, they didn't come back. Everything in me was scared and pleading with him to stay, to send someone else.

"Why does it have to be you? Why not Maggie and Jimmy?" I asked, trying to keep from crying.

He sighed. "They've done their share of runs. It's my turn an' I have some things I need ta get."

I looked away. I couldn't stand it anymore, I cried.

"Hey, now. It'll be alright, you'll see. I promise I will come back safe, as soon as we get what we need." Willy vowed, hugging me against his warm frame.

Another promise.

"Please be careful." I pleaded, my anger gone as quickly as it had swept over me. "Please."

"Always." He assured me, rubbing soothing circles in my back.

He held me until I'd calmed down. I'm not sure how long it took, but I finally drew back and wiped my face dry.

"I'm thinking of trying ta get an ultrasound machine, if I can." He said, finally ending the silence.

"Don't, if it will put you at risk. It's not worth your life, Willy." I had resigned myself to the fact that he was leaving shortly. I couldn't do or say anything to make him stay and I knew that.

It didn't make it any easier.

"I won't. I've made it my mission ta stay alive until that baby's born."

"He'll make you wait as long as possible then, and so will I."

Willy and Maggie quickly packed and cleaned up for dinner. It was a quiet affair, only the clinks of forks against plates could be heard in the room until the last person finished their meal.

He sang to me, to try to ease some of my fear and make me giggle. Crazy Girl by the Zac Brown band.

I smiled, even though it didn't erase my fear, it helped a little.

The duo said their goodbyes, loaded the guns and supplies required for the trip into the truck and headed out.

I had begun to fuss and worry the moment I could no longer see the tail lights of the truck.

Please bring them back safe. I prayed, closing my eyes and leaning against my window. Let their path be clear and void of all danger.

I tried to rest, but every time I closed my eyes, images of Willy being bit fought off the searching fingers of sleep. I read and paced, hummed all the songs that came to mind and fretted over the safety of the two scavengers.

Logically, I knew they were experienced and cautious. Emotionally, I was a worried wreck that had various scenarios of horror and death playing out in my mind.

Willy running for the truck, surrounded by a herd of walkers. Maggie and Willy caught in a hallway, surrounded on both sides, shooting until their last bullet before getting eaten. Maggie running to the truck and falling, losing her gun, a walker ripping her stomach open and eating her alive.

I shook my head and whimpered. No! Stop it! I yelled at myself.

I curled up as well as I could, rocking myself back and forth. I hugged myself and hummed songs my ma would sing to me after I had nightmares.

Slowly, it worked, chasing away the images and thoughts plaguing me.

Finally, when I was too exhausted to keep my eyes open, I lay down and slept.

I sighed, picking at my breakfast. The toast and oatmeal Beth had brought up for me didn't appeal to me. I'd eaten five bites of the toast and nine bites of oatmeal. That was the best I could do at the moment.

I blinked my tired eyes and glanced over at the young blonde. "Take it, I can't eat another bite." I requested softly, pushing the tray away.

I had stood with the intention of dressing and starting my chores by the time she came for the tray.

"You should try to eat more a little later. I'll bring snacks out for you in a bit." She said, closing the door behind her.

I changed into my faded blue sundress with small white flowers printed on it. The weather looked like it would be on the hotter side today, so I would need to prepare extra ice water bottles or Herschel wouldn't allow me to leave the house. The protective old vet.

I eased my way down the stairs to the kitchen.

"Three bottles of ice water all packed and ready to go." Patricia offered in way of greeting. "Here, take this one out with you."

I blinked, surprised. "Thank you."

"Be careful out there. If you get too hot, come in and we'll ice your wrists." She replied with a small smile. Her eyes were puffy and tired, circles forming under them. She looked older today, like she'd aged at least six years over night.

Sympathy flooded me. The service for Otis was yesterday.

"I will." I tried to smile back, but I wasn't sure if it fell flat or not.

I escaped the dreary mood of the kitchen and made for the front door eagerly. It had been a week since anyone collected from the hen house so I'd start with that. It wouldn't be taxing and I couldn't overdo it walking down a line of chickens taking their eggs.

The wire collecting basket and feeding pail were beside the door. Apparently Herschel knew I wanted to start simple. Low level on the hard scale.

I had made it down the front steps before I spotted the R. V and a splattering of tents.

What the hell?

"Who the hell are you?!" A hard voice demanded, an edge to the southern accent.

I spun to face the owner of the voice. He was tall, his head had been shaved and he wore overalls. His eyes were cold and hostile, as was his stance.

I trembled. The hostility of the stranger made me freeze.

Flashed of another's eyes stole across my vision, equally filled with anger and hate.

"I asked you a question! Who. Are. You?!" He demanded again, the volume of his voice increased.

"Shane! Leave her be!" Another voice sternly snapped. "You're scaring her."

The man with the shaved head didn't move, glaring at me with a look I'd identified as hatred.

My heart pounded in my chest and I dropped the wire basket to wrap an arm over my baby protectively, shielding it as best I could. I wanted to run, to flee, but I couldn't be certain that he wouldn't tackle me to the ground and hurt my baby. I couldn't take the chance.

I didn't know what to do.

A man with short slightly wavy hair and the beginning of a beard closed the distance, his strides indicated he was annoyed. He pushed the one he'd called Shane, forcing him to take a step away from me. "Back off, Shane. I won't tell you again."

'Shane' backed away, tossing the other man's hands away from him and stalking off to the tents.

The bearded man turned his attention to me, the tension leaving his shoulders. He looked at me head on and I noticed that his eyes were different. Softer. Kinder. "I'm sorry about that. Are you alright?"

I shrugged, my eyes darting around him to the small crowd gathering among the tents.

"My name is Rick Grimes, I'm here with my group while Herschel fixes up my boy. What's your name?" He inquired, his voice quieter and kinder now.

"Abilene." I whispered, my trembling had stopped, but I still wanted to bolt. I didn't know this man and I didn't like that the people around the tents were staring at me.

"Abilene. That's a pretty name." He leaned forward a bit and bent down a little.

I flinched and took two steps back when his arm came close to touching my leg.

He straightened up, his hands held out in front of him like I'd seen in the movies. "Hey, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. Okay? I don't wanna hurt you."

I watched him warily, hastily reaching forward and grabbing the basket from him while keeping my eyes on him.

"My group don't want any trouble. Why don't you meet them? It might make you feel better." He suggested, his hands still raised placating. He was talking softly and calmly, like I'd seen Willy talk to a spooked horse.

I backed up, eyes wide. He wanted me to go over there?! There were so many of them! He was over there!

My trembling started up again and I started to inch backward, watching Rick Grimes for any movement.

"What is going on out here?" A familiar and very welcome voice demanded.

I exhaled in relief. Herschel.

"One of my men scared Abilene. I was trying to talk her down." Rick explained, his voice as calm and soft as before.

I took the opportunity to hide behind Herschel.

"Abilene, sweetheart, go in the house. Beth will take your morning chores." Herschel instructed me in his fatherly voice.

I fled into the house, dropping the feed pail and bucket on the porch for Beth. I walked as quickly as I was able into the kitchen and grabbed a thermos of ice water.

Patricia turned to me, frowning in concern. "What happened?"

"Where's Beth?" I asked, not wanting to talk about Shane or Rick.

"I think she went to feed the cows in the second paddock. Why?"

"Herschel wants her to take over my morning chores."

"Did you get overheated?"

"No. Can you tell Beth for me?"

"Sure, but-"

"Thanks. I'm going to lay down for a little bit."

I didn't wait for a reply, fleeing to my room. I sat on the bed and took soothing breaths.

I wasn't sure what was going on with Herschel and Rick, or what the problem with that Shane guy was, but I did know one thing.

I wanted nothing to do with Rick or his group.