New Meanings To Old Words: Love

Alright, we're doing some more backtracking in this chapter…but don't worry we'll all be on the same page soon enough. This chapter's going to focus on catching up to Shane, Miles and Otis at the FEMA station.

As always, read, review and most of all enjoy!

~Michelle

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except Callie and the crew of misfits (Danny, Miles, Jenna, Mike, Nina, Ben and Gracie).

Conscience Killer

"Fuuuuck," Miles' whispered voice echoed louder than it should have in Shane's ears. Looking across the open space between the two police cars that they were hiding behind he watched the boy slip back down and bang the back of his head lightly against the back of the trunk.

The sounds of the dead shuffling aimlessly around the parking lot of the school was an eerie backdrop as the sun settled low on the horizon basking the entire world in the dim blue light of the approaching night. Shane shifted his eyes around them, listening as dead feet hit off of trash, and crunched off of broken glass not far behind them.

Shane settled himself back against the car next to the boy and firmed his lips into a line, silently watching Miles continue to lightly bang his head. Beside him Otis was shaking his head, and Shane slipped his gaze to the larger man and knew that nothing but disdain was showing on his face when their eyes met. The larger man gave that pathetic helpless sorrowful look and again Shane wanted to smash his fist into his face.

"Did you know it was like this?" Shane seethed jutting his chin and indicating the crowded parking lot of the school.

"No," Otis said quietly his head shaking as his eyes widened. He looked over Shane and caught Miles' eye and shook his head again. "It was bad before, but-"

"Don't really matter," Miles said quietly as he ran his broken left hand through his hair and then shook his head. He looked over at Shane and cracked a very small smile. "Fuck man. It don't matter, Shane. We're here, and we have to try."

Shane clenched his jaw but nodded at the boy, fuck it all, the man slowly working his way to his knees now at the car beside him. Shane followed Miles' movements and worked to his knees to again slip his gaze over the crowd of Walkers shambling about. There were too fuckin' many of them. Way too fuckin' many.

But the kid was right, and this idiotic plan was their only shot.

"They're gonna be on you quick," Shane said angrily as he handed one of the flare guns to the bastard beside him and watched Miles nod his head. Shane checked the flare gun he held and then sniffed hard as he watched Miles clench and unclench his good right hand in a nervous motion.

"Right," Miles said idly peeking his head around the back of the car to the space between them. Shane watched as the kid took in a deep breath through his nose and continued to nod his head.

"I still don't know how you plan to," Otis piped in and Shane shot him a glare over his shoulder. Reaching out Shane grabbed the fat fuck and shook him bringing the man's face an inch from his.

"Shut it," Shane said quietly, his eyes going to where Miles sat now staring at them. He dropped his hand from the man and ran it through his hair. Shane looked down at his hands holding the flare gun and then started to shake his head.

He didn't know how the fuck this was supposed to work either. But Miles was right, it was there only shot at having even a chance at getting the equipment they needed. There were just too fuckin' many of them out there.

"Hey," Miles said sliding forward. "Have a little faith man," Miles smiled wide and winked. "I've been in tighter spots and come out clean. This'll be a walk in the park. It worked before, and there were a hell of a lot more of those fuckers in Atlanta then there are here." Miles nodded his head and shifted his gaze between Shane and Otis. "It worked before, man. And at least this time I'm not gonna be blarin' a fuckin' car alarm the whole way."

Shane smiled and felt himself chuckle as Miles again slipped his attention to the space between the cars. When Miles had come up with the plan, Shane had jumped on it for all that it was worth. The only thing burnin' through his brain being Carl, and the need to get into that trailer and get the supplies that would save his life. But the longer that they sat there, listening to the shuffling and moaning of the mass of undead in the parking lot, the more ill-at-ease Shane was with their plan.

The more he kept thinking about just what he was sending that kid into. What he was letting him do.

"Shane. C'mon," Miles said finally breaking him out of his thoughts. "We can't sit here and discuss this shit anymore. Carl needs us."

"A'right," Shane said nodding his head in a jerky manner again readying his gun. He slipped his eyes to where Otis was shaking his head and he smacked his hand at the larger man's head. "You quit that shit. This is how it's goin' down, so just fuckin' keep your mind where it needs to be." Otis stared at Shane in a bit of shock and then looked to Miles who gave him a smile and a nod.

"S'alright man," Miles said with a lift of his brows. "We do this kind of shit all the time."

"Tell me your kidding" Otis said in an incredulous tone.

"I wish," Shane said quietly, as he shook his head memories of all the seemingly inescapable and insurmountable odds that they'd been through. "I wish." He shook his head and looked to Miles. "Remember. You get their attention. Lead them off and lose 'em. Then you get your ass back to the farm. You don't come back here."

"I know. I know," Miles said waving his broken left hand around in a dismissive manner. "I don't fuckin' like it, but I know." He looked at Shane and gave the man a long considering look before reaching out his right hand into the space between the cars they hid behind. Shane stared at Miles' outstretched hand for a moment before looking back up at the kid as he grabbed it in a tight embrace. "Be safe, Shane. Be smart. And be fuckin' quick 'bout it."

"We'll see you at the farm, Miles." Shane said nodding as he shook the kid's hand tightly. "Be careful, I'm not looking forward to the wrath of Callie if you eat it out there."

"Nice choice of words, man." Miles spat back as he dropped Shane's hand and they both shared a smile. "I'll be fine," Miles snuck a look at the shambling mass of people. "Now go, before I lose my fuckin' nerve here."

Shane took in a deep breath and nodded his head. Shifting his gaze to Otis he shared a single nod with the larger man who tilted his head in acknowledgement and began to shift slowly away from the car that they were hiding behind and towards the next one in the line. Shane slipped into a crouched walk and began to follow, his eyes sliding over his shoulder to see Miles just watching them. He felt his head nodding again, and watched as Miles gave him a small smile as he slowly waved the fingers on his broken left hand.

Shane slipped to the next car, and when he looked back Miles was already sliding forward and slowly opening the driver's door of the squad car he and Otis had been hiding behind. The car that they'd found the keys still in. The car that they'd raided the trunk of and gathered the flare guns from. The car that Miles was slipping into the driver's seat of and planning to start up and drive off in an effort to distract the Walkers.

Shane shook his head again and started at the feel of a hand on his shoulder. Shane turned and glared at Otis and watched the man extract his hand slowly. Shane let out a breath and peered over the tops of the cars and watched as Miles very slowly started to close the car door.

"A'right," Shane said quietly to Otis as he lifted his flare gun. "Let's buy him a bit of time," Shane said, leaving off the words that both men new lingered in the air. Just in case.

Just in case for some reason that car didn't start up. Just in case that kid needed to toss the plan and make a break for them. Just in case.

Otis nodded and slipped up beside Shane, his finger on the trigger of his flare gun. The larger man peered over the top of the car they were at and jutted his chin to a far off area near the school building. Shane nodded and readied himself to shoot. Taking a deep breath in, one thought continued to play over and over in his mind.

For Carl. For Carl. For Carl.

Opening his eyes wide Shane fired the flare gun and then ducked as quickly as he could behind the vehicle. He listened as Otis let off his flare and slipped down as well. Both of them slipped along the side of the car their eyes angled at the Walkers who were now slowly working their way towards the burning flares at the other end of the parking lot. Shane shifted his eyes to where a few still shambled, not taking the bait. Shifting his attention to the car that Miles was sitting in, he clenched his jaw tight as he waited.

"C'mon, kid." Shane muttered in an agitated tone, nervously working his feet on the ground. His eyes slipped to the trailer not far off and then back to the car. "C'mon!"

The sound of the car starting had Shane's eyes going wide, and he turned and pushed Otis towards the trailer. They ran, keeping low so as not to attract the attention of any of the Walkers that weren't distracted by either the flare or the newly started car. Shane slipped his eyes to the parking lot as Otis worked up the steps, watching in awe as most of the Walkers turned towards the car.

Their dead decaying bodies turned, slow shuffling steps becoming more urgent as they locked in on target of Miles in that car. That car that still wasn't moving.

"C'mon Miles," Shane seethed as he heard Otis open the trailer door. The Walkers were beginning to gather now at the front of the squad car, and with a sense of dread Shane realized what Miles was doing. He wasn't just going to sit and see how many followed him. He was gonna take the whole fuckin' lot with him. "Son of a bitch," Shane's face contorted and he again felt Otis' hand land on his shoulder and begin to pull him up to the trailer.

Shane looked back, eyes wide in anger at the man. Just as his mouth opened to say something the distinct sound of the car engine sputtering and dying had his head snapping back to it. Shane's heart thudded wildly in his chest as he watched the crowd of Walkers get closer to where that now fuckin' dead squad car sat. Dead decaying hands slipped over the hood of the car as more and more undead men and women crowded around it.

With the barely lit dusk hues helping his vision, Shane could just make out the shadowed frantic figure of Miles inside the car. He heard the engine turn over and die, again and again as the kid turned that key over and over again. Shane's feet were moving, his hands clenched tight to his shotgun, and again the hand of that fucker behind him landed on his shoulder and held tight.

"You can't," Otis said in a harsh agonizing whisper of despair, his eyes glued to where the Walkers crowded the squad car. He slipped his eyes back down to Shane as he again tried to pull the man into the trailer. "I'm so sorry. There are too many. You can't-"

The sound of a gunshot had both of their eyes again snapping to the car. Shane watched a Walker that had been clawing at the driver's side window fall limp to the ground. The mass of Walkers next to it falling over its body in an effort to get at the boy through the now shattered window of the car. In the next instant the car engine roared to life and was peeling backwards. Shane's breath left him in rush as he listened to Miles' excited 'FUCK YEAH!' filter through the broken window as the car careened backwards away from the parking lot.

The lights atop flickered to life, and the siren let out a single blaring noise to the air, drawing the attention of whatever Walkers hadn't been pawing at the car before. The sound of tires screeching as Miles turned the car around and began to drive off had a smile flying to Shane's lips.

Otis' hand on Shane's shoulder tightened and he smacked against it twice.

"Boy's got some kind of higher power on his side," Otis said shaking Shane as they watched the Walkers shamble after Miles. The lights atop the car beckoning them, and then fading into nothingness.

"Let's hope it lasts," Shane said turning to face Otis. "C'mon. We gotta move. There could be more 'round here."

With that Otis turned and entered the trailer. Shane slipped his eyes over his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of the lights from the squad car, but he saw nothing but the retreating forms of the herd of Walkers shambling off into the slowly growing night.

I'm a constant sinner, a conscience killer

I'm a righteous heartache, never gonna let you get close to mine

I'm a punk every time, give me little room

And I'll spit in your eye

Miles had both hands on the wheel, his knuckles white as he clenched tight and pressed his foot harder into the gas pedal. He was breathing like what he figured a fuckin' woman in labor sounded like, each breath short and quick as he worked to slow his heartbeat to more manageable speed. He felt the brisk night air on his face from the shattered window beside him and let that slight breeze cool his sweat drenched face.

"Jesus," Miles said in a rushed tone as he slipped his eyes up to the rearview mirror and caught sight of the Walkers slowly falling to the background of the dark night. "Jesus fuckin' Christ. Never again. Never I promise."

Miles had never believed in a higher power. Never once had he prayed, or asked forgiveness. Never. Not even when the world he knew came crumbling down around his feet in a heap of undead hordes.

When that engine cut the first time he'd damn near shit his pants, but he hadn't prayed. He'd chanted 'fuck' like that was going out of style, but he hadn't prayed. The second and third time he'd switched his chant to 'motherfucker'.

At the fourth and fifth time he turned the key. That instance when his wild eyes had lifted to see the Walkers pawing at the hood of the car and one sliding it's rough nails down the window next to him he'd finally stopped muttering and just stared in shock. When that already cracked window had broken under the pressure, and those fingers broke through that tempered glass barrier Miles had finally given himself over to the unrelenting urge to pray.

His chant changed to 'Oh God' and it was repeated over and over as he pushed away from those reaching hands. Over and over as he again turned that key. And then when nothing happened his heart had thudded hard in his chest as he looked out over the growing horde of Walkers and he knew it was over. He'd pulled his gun and contemplated it, lifting it just slightly to his own head.

'Oh God' he'd closed his eyes and lifted it just a bit higher. And then the fuckin' Walker had slid it's gnarled and skinless hand all the way in that gore covered broken window. Adrenaline pumped, and reactions learned over the course of months and months of being a fuckin' survivor kicked in. And he hadn't wasted a second in turning and pumping a bullet into that son of a bitch's decaying face.

The sound of that gun going off and watching that Walker fall had sparked something in him. Brought back to light exactly what Miles was doing, and why he was in that parking lot in the first place. Thoughts of Shane and Otis needing this distraction to get what they needed. Thoughts of Carl. Thoughts of everyone flew to his mind. And he turned that key with a muttered 'Please God' and fuck if that car hadn't started right up.

"Jesus," Miles muttered now as he let out another shaking breath and once again slid his gaze to the rearview mirror. The Walkers could hardly be seen now, falling behind as he sped away. He let out a shaking breath and smiled as he kept his eyes on those slowly disappearing figures. He squinted hard into that growing night and tried to see that school and that trailer but he couldn't.

Miles slipped his eyes back to the road, and felt his entire body tense, arms held out straight as they could go before him as if that would hold off what he saw before him. Time slowed and his breath caught deep in his chest. His foot hit the brake instinctively, his hands turning the wheel to try and avoid it but the reaction was too late.

The squad car barreled into a mass of bodies, and idly Miles thought that even the Walkers he was currently plowing down looked fuckin' surprised. The tires screeched, and the car jolted violently at the hard impact. The speed he'd been going sent the car careening out of his control, his broken left hand more of a detriment now than it had ever been before as he struggled to keep the car from turning more or flipping over. His eyes had closed at some point and he figured it had to have been him making that strangely girlish screaming noise that echoed in his ears. Suddenly the car jammed to a painful stop, Miles' head and body flying forward as the front of the car smashed into something.

His body continued forward, his head smashing first up to the ceiling of the car and then forward into the wheel and dash. Bright flashes sparked behind his closed eyelids and pain blossomed not long after He felt his breath leave his body in a painful gasp as his chest was compressed hard into the steering wheel. In the dark recesses of his mind he could hear his father's voice laughingly saying, 'That's why you always wear your seatbelt, bud.'

Finally everything came to a stop. And Miles found himself muttering almost incoherently to the emptiness of the car. "Shut up, dad."

He didn't know how long he'd sat there. How long his eyes had been closed but Miles groaned and shifted a bit, his head rolling on his sore shoulders as he tried to figure it out. The smell of engine grease, gasoline, and acrid smoke filtered into his nostrils. But that wasn't what had his breath catching and his eyes opening.

Decay.

His head was still spinning, fuck the world was spinning, when he opened his eyes. Wetness ran down into his right eye half blinding him, and he blinked repeatedly before putting his hand up to rub away the sting. Pain sliced through his head and he pulled his fingers away and stared at the blood.

"Fuck," Miles seethed through clenched teeth as he then dabbed at the apparent gash through his right eyebrow. His right eye kept wanting to close but he forced it open as he struggled and groaned, trying to quickly assess if he had broken anything.

The moaning hiss from the front of his car had his eyes snapping back to the front, remembering suddenly why he'd opened his eyes. The smell. Oh that smell.

A Walker was pawing at the air, its body stuck between the front of the totaled squad car he was in and the back bumper of a US Army Humvee. Through the now shattered windshield he watched the Walker snarl and grab at the air paying no mind to the fact that its lower half had been completely smashed.

Miles shook his head and worked to push open the driver's side door, wincing with the effort. He couldn't stay here. All those Walkers following him, not to mention the shit load he'd just plowed through, could be on him in no time. He needed to move. Figure out what to do next.

The sickening sound of popping and snapping had Miles stopping his push against the apparently stuck door. His eyes slid back to the front, and he watched in horrifying silence as the Walker reached forward and stuck its dead fingers into one of the ripples in the metal of the now condensed hood of the car. It pulled itself up towards him, eyes intent on the yummy little treat that was trapped inside of the car. Again those popping, snapping noises, followed by a sound that reminded Miles of a popsicle being sucked on and removed from a mouth. That mental image did not help his stomach deal with what happened next.

The Walker clawed again, and pulled and ripped itself in two. Arms working to pull the now much lighter upper half of its body up the hood towards the shattered and bent windshield. Its legs and hips left to their eternal resting place between the two cars. Miles' eyes widened as the Walker moved with a speed he wasn't expecting and in almost one lunge the Walker's hand was raking down the shattered glass in front of him.

Frantically Miles worked the handle of the door, his shoulder ramming it as he tried to keep his eyes on the Walker. Dead hands pulled the shattered tempered glass of the windshield away as if peeling back a layer of tinfoil on leftovers.

"SHIT!" Miles was ramming his shoulder into the car door over and over, but he gave up as soon as the Walker's hand gripped onto the steering wheel in front of him.

Miles lifted his left hand as the Walker threw itself onto him, and he felt its jaws clamp down hard on the plaster cast covering his wrist. The pain that shot into his arm and fingers was intense, but his adrenaline was pumping so hard he pushed past it and used that broken appendage to push against the Walker. Reaching blindly with his right hand Miles grabbed for his gun which had fallen to his feet and wedged under the gas pedal. He slumped as far down as he could, the Walker's lighter half of a body making the movement easier. The Walker's other hand and shoulder were still stuck on the shattered glass, its powerful mouth still pressing hard into the plaster of his cast, cracking it apart and digging pieces into his arm.

Miles' fingers hit off the butt of his gun and he let out what would best be described as a battle cry as he practically dislocated his right shoulder to grab the gun. Finally finding purchase, Miles slipped back, his shoulders landing painfully on the console between the seats, his foot kicking up and pressing against the stuck driver's side door.

One swift motion and he had the barrel of the gun against the Walker's left eye. He fired, the bullet tearing through the Walker's brain, out the back of its head and through the already broken driver's side window. The Walker's body slumped on top of him and he took those few moments to catch his breath.

Pain ebbed into his world slowly, and with a strangled groan he pushed the half of a Walker off of him and back out the windshield from whence it came. The movement sent a fresh wave of almost nauseating pain through his left arm, and he instantly cradled the limb to his body. Then in a frantic kind of motion he was pulling at the bits of plaster, desperately trying to make sure that he hadn't been bit.

"Please. Please, God," Miles said quietly pulling as hard as he could and peeking his eyes into the break in his cast to his wrist. He angled it towards the interior light on the roof of the car and let out a sigh of relief. No bites. "Fuckin' son of a bitch."

Miles let out a few panting breaths and let his eyes slide around him. The world titled again and he closed his eyes to try and right it. Blinking his eyes open he again looked about. Keeping a firm grip on his gun he kicked out with his foot and worked to dislodge the rest of the door's broken window. Just as he was about to slip his feet out the window Glenn's voice from months ago echoed in his head.

"Rule number four," Glenn said with a smirk as he looked up at him from the campfire at the Quarry. "Never, ever, lead with your feet."

"Always said he was a smart motherfucker," Miles said in his best impression of Danny. Swinging his feet back down to the floor, he worked slowly to angle his still aching head out the window. He let his eyes slide both ways and as tipped himself as far down as he could to try and be sure that there was nothing under the car. Satisfied that if there had been something there, it would be trying to get to him by now, he worked his upper half out of the car. His left arm remained cradled to his body as the pain continued to throb as he worked to exit the car like one of the fuckin' Dukes of Hazard.

Finally he was able to swing his legs out and put them on solid ground. Miles leaned back against the squad car for a moment his eyes working in the darkness to try and see what was around him. He gripped his gun tight, and let his finger slip over the trigger in a detached sort of motion as he studied his surroundings.

"Shoulda brought my fuckin' bat," Miles said still getting used to the foreign feel of the gun in his hand. Wincing slightly he turned his attention to the Humvee that he'd crashed into. His squinted in bit of confusion. The vehicle just didn't seem to fit right into the rest of the world around him.

Sure there had been plenty of military vehicles, mixed in with FEMA trucks and local PD cars like the one he'd been driving. But this, this was well away from any of the others. It's light khaki colored paint, besmirched with a good bit of Walker guts, still shockingly different from the rest of the dark green and black vehicles that Miles had seen in and around that school parking lot.

Wiping the blood from his right eye again, he winced and worked his way towards the cab of the Humvee. It was a hulking vehicle, larger than the orange monstrosity that he usually traveled in. cradling his left hand to his stomach, Miles skipped his eyes over his shoulder and glanced around him. He knew that there were Walkers close by, fuck, he'd hit like six of them with that squad car. They had to be somewhere.

Miles looked at the gun held tight in his right hand, and then looked to his completely unusable left. Rolling his eyes he settled his gun into the back of his jeans and put his good right hand to the handle of the driver's side door of the Army Humvee.

He needed a new ride. There was no way he was gonna make it if he had to walk back to the farm. He cracked a grin at the thought of what everyone would think when he showed up in this beast. Shaking his head against the throbbing and blinking out the blood from his right eye he pulled the door and grimaced at the loud groan it gave.

Miles skipped his eyes behind him and then stepped back quickly, giving himself room to maneuver in case there were inhabitants in the vehicle. No smell greeted him. No groans. No moans. But mostly no smell. Well, at least not a strong one. Shit, everything in the world smelled like death now. So the teeny-tiny smell of decaying flesh and blood that met Miles' nose as he shifted closer to the moonlit interior of the Humvee really wasn't gonna stop him from getting in.

He pulled himself gingerly up into the seat, and winced hard as his left hand wrenched off of the steering wheel as he sat. Grimacing in pain he shook his head and slipped his gun from the small of his back, giving the entire interior a quick once-over. Settling back on a sigh he closed the door as quietly as he could and then let his head settle back at the seat.

Eyes closed Miles caught his breath, the pain-reducing effects of adrenaline now ebbing away and allowing the pain of the crash, what he figured were some well and truly bruised ribs, the possibly concussion, and his crushed left hand to come to the forefront. He sat there for a good while, willing his heart to beat at a normal level, his vision to clear and the world to right itself for longer than five seconds before tilting off and spinning again. The feel of his blood drying on the side of his face and cracking every time he blinked was what brought him back to the world around him.

He needed to get the fuck outta dodge.

"Keys. Keys," Miles started muttering to himself as he looked around the Humvee's darkened interior. He figured he could always hot-wire it. He squinted at the dash of the giant vehicle and grimaced. Maybe. His eyes slipped to where the keys should have been, and he grinned. "Fuck yeah," Miles said putting his fingers to the silver chain and keys hanging from the ignition. "Gotta love the apocalypse."

Miles shifted his attention around the cab of the vehicle before starting it up, and stopped short at the sight on the seat beside him. His mouth instantly fell as a disgusted groan fell from his lips. A hand sat there, the seat stained with the blood that had seeped out of it.

"Gross," Miles muttered his eyes squinting at the hand. He was about to turn from it when he noticed that the fingers of the hand were curled around something. Leaning over a bit, he settled his gun on his lap and put a finger to the chain. Lifting it up slowly, Miles shook it a bit to get the hand to fall off to the floorboards below and then brought it close to his face to examine it.

They were dog tags. Not really surprising to find in a US Army vehicle. But what had his eyes going wide, and his breath catching in his chest was the name inscribed upon them.

Marcus, Robert W.

"Holy shit," Miles said incredulously as he stared at the slightly blood-stained dog tags in his hand. He ran his thumb over the dried blood on the surface of the tag. Just to make sure that somehow the blood hadn't dried in a weird way that was making him see shit that just wasn't there. Miles shook his head and let out a shaky chuckle, before letting his eyes roam the interior of the Humvee with a renewed interest.

Miles spent a few minutes more just looking around the interior of the Humvee, looking for anything that would tell him that this was in fact Callie's brother. Honestly, what were the fuckin' odds. There had to be more than one Robert Marcus in the Army right? More than one in Georgia?

Miles bit at the inside of his cheek as he again rubbed his thumb over the dog tags in his hand. The numbers on it looked like a social security number. Nine digits. And on the next two lines were a blood type and followed by the word, Catholic. That one he knew was right. He shook his head and shoved the dog tags into his jeans pocket and figured it wouldn't hurt to show 'em to Callie. Then he grimaced, wondering what the fuck it meant that they were sitting in an abandoned Humvee gripped in the cut off hand of a fuckin' Walker.

"Shit," Miles grumbled, his good right hand sliding over his hair. Shaking his head he put his hand to the keys in the ignition, and then stopped. Sighing he reached over and did up his seatbelt smirking at himself in the rearview mirror. "Just for you, dad." Reaching forward again he put his fingers to the keys and turned them.

The Humvee roared to life and the headlights immediately illuminated the dark roadside before him. Miles' head slipped back and he banged it off of the seat behind him. There were all those Walkers he'd been lookin' for. Just fuckin' milling about a good couple of feet in front of him. Miles let out a shaky breath and watched as most of those undead geeks turned to look directly at him and his headlights. Slipping his eyes down to the gas gage Miles yet again felt the grimace mar his features. Less than a quarter tank, no way it was going to make it back to the farm.

Miles looked up again, and his ears began to pick up the sound of gunfire in the distance. Eyes wide he realized it must have been Shane and Otis trying to get back to the truck. And gunfire meant only one thing. They needed help.

Looking up at the mass of Walkers slowly beginning to turn and walk towards him, Miles let a slow wicked grin slide onto his face. If there was one thing he had learned from Danny as they rode around in that orange monster of a Hummer all those months. These fuckin' things were made for mowin' down Walkers.

And just think what this wonderful US Army Humvee could do compared to the street legal orange one they usually rode in.

Putting his hand to the gear shift he winced as he put the sore fingers of his broken left hand to the wheel. He revved the engine just for effect and slipped the Humvee into drive, his foot hitting that gas pedal hard as he said a silent prayer, his new favorite thing to do, that he'd make it back to the truck.

I'm a red blooded sickness, there was no way around

I'm a fine line teaser, never been nothing but a cheater

I'm a son of the night, give a little room

I'll spit in your eye

Shane slammed his back up against the wall, and stared down at the mass of Walkers currently pawing at him and Otis from their perch on the top of the closed up bleachers. His breath came out in sharp gasps as he listened to the sounds of the groans of the dead. He knew it was impossible, but he swore he could feel their fuckin' dead fingers sliding off of his steel toed boots.

Shane blinked a few times and watched as beside him Otis backed up a bit more. The larger man having difficulty finding purchase on the ledge that they'd found themselves on. Not to mention trying to catch his breath after their full tilt sprint to this fucked up mess of a situation.

And just the thought of that again had Shane's head spinning, and his hand raking through his hair as he watched the mass of undead bodies paw and claw for their meal.

Miles.

What the fuck happened to Miles?

When he and Otis had entered into that trailer that entire parking lot had emptied as the Walkers worked to follow the noisy trail of the squad car and the meal sitting inside. Then, swear to God, not even twenty minutes later as Shane and Otis exited with all the supplies, they were back. All of them, and then some. Shane wasn't fool enough to think that the Walkers just got tired of chasing the car. Not after fuckin' twenty minutes.

No way. Those fuckers weren't the type to get bored. Once they had their attention on something as tantalizing as that car and that kid; they weren't going to just back off and shrug it off. Not unless -

Shane let out a deep sigh and yet again smashed the back of his head into the wall behind him. He heard the crinkle of the banners hanging there, cheering on the home team in bright bold letters. A sickening image of a sheet hung over a car on a darkened stretch of highway flew to his mind. Black lettering spelling out a simple birthday message. The shocked awe on the kid's face as he read it.

Shane shook his head violently and then smashed the palm of his hand into the side of it twice. Hoping that the pain would help to dislodge any and all images of that kid. Until he saw different, Miles was fine. And Shane needed to keep his head in the game. Carl's life depended on it.

Carl.

That one simple thought brought Shane instantly back to the present. His eyes shifted on a slant of anger to the man still huffing and puffing beside him as he struggled to keep away from the groping hands of the undead below them. Taking in a deep breath, Shane steeled his shoulders and began to nod his head, earning an odd look from Otis beside him.

"We can't fuckin' stay here," Shane spat as he glared at the Walkers. "We gotta get back to Carl."

"Right," Otis said in a breathy sort of whisper, his eyes holding Shane's for a moment. Then his head begins nodding as he stares at the windows over Shane's shoulder. "Right. You're right." Otis slid his body towards Shane, his foot almost slipping. Shane's hand shot out and curled into the fabric of his shirt pulling him upwards again. Otis gave Shane's hand a patin thanks and then juts his chin to the space over Shane's left shoulder.

"We're gonna have to split up," Otis said breathlessly. Shane's eyes snapped wide and he looked over his shoulder at the window and then back at the burly man grimacing at him. "That window," Otis again jutted his chin and again Shane felt his eyes go wide as he looked at it. "It's not that far of a drop down to the ground. You can make it through there-"

"We ain't splittin' up," Shane said angrily and Otis just shook his head and pushed at Shane a bit. The larger man shook his head and handed Shane the smaller bag of medical supplies.

"Look at me," Otis said his brow narrowed in a bit of annoyance. "I ain't gonna fit through there. But you can."

"What about you?" Shane said slowly reaching and taking the pack full of supplies and slipping it on to his shoulder.

A hand snaked around Shane's ankle and he felt himself rock off kilter for a moment. Otis' hand shot out and grabbed him while Shane shook his foot wildly. Otis brought his larger foot down hard and the snapping sound of breaking bones echoed loudly. One more swift kick and the hand completely broke off, fingers still hooked into the laces of Shane's boots. Shane shook his foot wildly again and finally succeeded in removing the dismembered parts from his shoe.

The feeling of it though, that was gonna be stickin' around for a while.

"See that set of doors," Otis said pointing a finger towards a set of double doors across the way. Shane stared for a minute at the way Otis' finger was shaking as he pointed, and when he met the other man's eye he firmed his lips to a line and just nodded. He couldn't help but be just a bit impressed with the burly man in that moment in time, the words 'accidents happen' echoing in Rick's calm voice in his head. "Those lead to the locker rooms." Otis said lowering his shaking hand and looking back to Shane with wide eyes. "I'll go there. Windows are bigger. We can meet outside and get to the truck."

Shane shifted his eyes to the Walkers clawing and pawing over one another desperate to get to them, and then over to the obviously scared man beside him. His mind circled in a sickening way over the thought of Rick covered in Carl's blood, and Carl laying helpless and dying on a bed.

Carl waiting for him to come back and save him.

"A'right," Shane said finally, shifting his shotgun over his shoulder and putting a hand to Otis' shoulder. "A'right." Shane shifted his attention to the Walkers. "You take three shots, and then you go. I'll cover you long as I can."

Otis looked at Shane for a good couple of seconds before nodding his head and slipping his rifle off of his shoulder. He hefted the other bag of supplies up a bit higher and eyed the mass of undead gripping at the stacked bleachers that they were perched upon. Shane watched the man blink as he sighted down his rifle, lift the rifle away from target and take a few steadying breaths, and then re-sight down the barrel of the rifle that Shane was sure the man was a crack shot with.

"Here we go," Otis said quietly. "Comin' home Patricia. I'm comin' home."

Shane shifted his eyes away from the window he was inching towards and watched Otis sniff hard and line up his first shot. A deep breath in from both men, and then the first shot was fired. Another breath, another shot. And finally a breath and the final shot and Shane was pulling his shot gun off of his shoulder as Otis made an ungraceful leap to the ground full of Walkers.

For a second Shane watched as the bulky man fell to his knees and the Walkers shuffled after him. It was obvious as Otis struggled to his feet, dead hands pawing and clawing at his legs, that the man was injured from the jump down to the hard court floor below. And as Shane lined up his shot of the Walker closest to the slow moving man he thought about aiming just a bit differently. Just take the fucker out of his misery now, before the horde caught up to him.

But the sight of that black duffle bag full of supplies that Otis wore on his shoulder stopped him cold. Thoughts of Carl needing those supplies, and of the impossibility of him being able to retrieve it from where it was now circled not far behind. Shane shifted the sight of his shotgun and blasted a hole into the head of the Walker that had its dead hands on that bag.

Otis slipped his eyes behind him and nodded once as Shane took out another two Walkers. It bought the big man enough time to make it to those double doors, and as his husky frame disappeared from view Shane turned to the window he was supposed to make his escape through.

"Fuckin' hell," Shane muttered as he kicked out at a pair of hands grasping yet again for his boot laces. He slipped along the bleachers and pushed up and out, amazed for one instant by the simplicity of the action and the tiny fuckin' hole he was supposed to be slipping through. The sound and feel of the bleachers rocking below his feet had him looking over his shoulder.

He watched in mild amazement as the Walkers seemed to figure out that they could use one another as a fuckin' ladder of sorts to get to him. Dead man, walking upon dead man, and boom tasty prize. Shane shook his head and let out a low breath through his pursed lips and sent his head out the window.

"A'right," Shane said looking at the dark ground below, a small hedge and grass. Better than concrete to land on. Not too high up, but definitely not a little drop down. Shaking his head he slipped the small pack of medical supplies off of his shoulder and dropped it to the ground. Shane shifted his attention over his shoulder and watched the Walkers get closer. Shaking his head he slipped his shotgun over his shoulder and then adjusted so that his feet were flying quickly out the window.

Feet first. Hang down. Lessen the distance.

He was chanting the words in his head as he did exactly that. Hanging by his fingertips now, he spared a look down and mentally cringed. This wasn't going to go well.

Carl. Carl. Carl.

Shane let go and tried to roll his body to take the brunt of the fall off of his legs, but failed. He caught his right leg hard and felt the knee pop out of joint and then painfully pop halfway back in as he struggled to work to his feet.

"Son of a -" Shane pushed off the ground with his arms. His muscles blazing in pain all over as he worked to grab up his back pack and right his shotgun. A sound above him had his eyes sliding up the brick of the building to the window he'd just fallen, not jumped he fuckin' fell, out of.

Two, then three, then the hands of a fourth Walker pushed through that small space. Growling, moaning, and hissing sounds reached his ears. He watched in a detached sort of horror as the first Walker pushed forward more and fell from the window. The body fell to the ground and Shane stared at it, almost too stunned for words.

Then the Walker was getting to its feet and Shane's eyes went wide. Not even thinking, he lifted his shotgun and fired, taking off the bastard's head as it shambled towards him. Another sound, and he watched the macabre sight of the undead willingly flinging themselves out the tiny window to get to him. As the next body hit the ground Shane didn't stand around to shoot it. He shouldered his pack and turned to run.

The pain in his leg was excruciating, and he found himself fuckin' skipping away from the building and around to where he knew they'd parked the truck. His strange sort of galloping trot was stilted as he continued to search over his shoulder. He hoped to see Otis, but all he saw were fuckin' Walkers. Shane lifted his shotgun as he realized that the things were gaining on him and he fired twice taking out one. He pulled on the trigger again and his eyes widened in terror when nothing happened.

"Fuck!" Shane seethed as he shouldered his weapon and pushed his pain-riddled body to its limits. He kept moving, back towards the front lot where this whole horror story had started. His eyes caught movement to his left and he turned, watching in amazement as Otis' figure rounded the building and continued running towards him. Shane waved his arms frantically as the man struggled on his own injured legs to catch up.

They were running together now, almost side by side. Shane's hand gripped into Otis' hunting vest and practically dragging the man with him. The sounds of the Walkers at their backs were getting louder, and Shane felt his leg threatening to give out with each hard press to the asphalt. Finally, Shane saw the truck and he let out a hard breath as he pushed further ahead.

Carl. Carl. Carl.

Lori. Carl. Lori. Carl.

Shane pushed forward on a rush of adrenaline and pain and shifted his eyes behind him to see what they were up against. The sight of the horde of Walkers on their trail had his steps faltering. He nearly took Otis and himself down to the ground, causing the larger man to look behind and stifle a sob of fear.

And then there was a bright light to his right, followed by the sound of powerful engine. And a very familiar whooping and hollering. Shane turned just in time to watch the light colored Humvee smash into the first row of Walkers almost on top of them. He stood transfixed for a moment, the pain in his leg forgotten as he continued to grip hard into the fabric of Otis' vest and keep the larger man on his feet and the Humvee crashed into the side of the building.

The passenger door facing them opened and out popped fuckin' Miles, blood caked into his hair and running down the right side of his face. He stared out at Shane and Otis for a second before he was scrambling down out of the vehicle and running towards them.

"The fuck you just standing there for," Miles seethed as he pushed at both of them and settled his gun into place at the small of his back. "Run damnit!"

Shane grabbed the kid's arm, and handed him the bag of supplies and the keys to the truck pushing him forward. Shane watched the Miles rush forward and then reached back to grab for Otis again. Curling his fingers into the man's vest he pulled hard. Over Otis' head Shane saw the rest of the Walkers beginning to filter around the large Humvee that Miles had just driven through them.

"C'mon," Shane pulled again, taking the bag of supplies the other man had and swinging it over his own shoulder. Otis ran a few more steps with him and it wasn't long before they were again stumbling in their combined pain. Both of them were hurt, both of them were slow, and honestly as Shane looked forward to the truck only one thought played in his head as the lumbering man behind him again slipped to the ground.

Both of them were going to die.

"No," Shane shook his head and pulled again at Otis who was waving his hand and breathing hard. "Get the fuck up, you son of a bitch!" Shane pulled on the man. "I can't die here for you. I can't die here."

Otis was nodding his head and grabbing at Shane's hand to help himself up. One Walker caught up to them and Shane smashed the butt of his shotgun into its head. Otis was still trying to get to his feet, and Shane could hear the sound of the truck starting and Miles shouting for them to come on. Shane looked down at Otis. They weren't far from the truck, but it was still a good distance to run.

The world around him dimmed into a pinprick of awareness. Sounds ebbed away. Miles and the sound of the old truck being shifted into gear fell away. All that was left were the Walkers surrounding him, and the man at his feet holding him back from making it out.

From making it back to Carl. To Lori.

Shane's eyes landed on the man still struggling to his feet, and then to the horde of Walkers now almost upon them. He looked to Otis and the other man must have seen something on his face. Must have seen exactly the moment that Shane realized that they weren't both going to die here.

Only one of them.

Shane made a grab for the rifle and Otis' hands slipped off of it a bit as shock rippled over and through him. Shane pulled again on the weapon, and shook the other man a bit eliciting a painful gasp from him. One more violent tug and Otis was on the ground and Shane was sighting down the gun at him. Something acrid swelled in the back of Shane's throat as he stared into Otis' shocked eyes. Something acrid that he didn't recognize and didn't fuckin' have time for.

He swallowed and fired into the man's leg just as he was getting his footing. Shane watched Otis fall in a screaming pain-filled heap. The sound of the car idling not far off had Shane turning, but before he could turn all the way Otis was gripping his ankle and pulling on him.

"No!" Otis yelled. "NO!"

Shane kicked out and dislodged the man's hands, sparing a quick look up at the approaching Walkers before looking down at the injured man trying to pull himself after Shane's retreating form. He gripped Shane's bad leg and pulled him to the ground. Otis' hands scratched and clawed at Shane for purchase as he desperately tried to pull himself along after Shane. They were both scrambling along the concrete and Shane finally felt the tear of Otis' fingers into his scalp as he pulled himself forward. Shane smashed the rifle into Otis' head and then leaned forward again pointing the weapon as a Walker shambled close.

"You caused this," Shane seethed as he used the rifle to push against Otis' body and shove him towards the Walkers. "You caused all of this. You deserve this. I won't die here for you."

Shane fired again, hitting Otis in the shoulder and sending his body flying back into the oncoming crowd of Walkers. Spinning on his heel Shane shifted the bag on his shoulder and took one painful step before his gaze crashed into the wide eyes of Miles. The boy was stopped, half-in and half-out of the vehicle, obviously on his way to help.

Frozen for that moment, Shane again felt that acrid taste in the back of his throat. And again he swallowed it as the sounds of Otis' screaming demise broke through the calm quiet he'd created in that moment when he'd made his decision. Shane held Miles' horror stricken gaze for only a second, pushing that acrid taste away and taking hold of what settled in its place.

With a strength he didn't recognize in himself, he ran to the truck waving at the boy now staring beyond him as Otis was ripped limb from limb.

They'd been driving for nearly a half an hour in complete silence. The horror of that parking lot and everything that had transpired weighing heavily on Miles as he clenched his right hand tight along the steering wheel. New nightmares were being formed in the recesses of his mind as they worked their way back, just waiting for that chance to be brought to life when the boy decided to try and sleep. He pushed them back for now and settled into a prayer of hope. Hope that Carl had survived long enough for this whole fuckin' nightmare trip not to have been a waste.

A waste of everything.

Miles could feel his jaw clenching as he worked to keep his mouth from hanging open in shock. Because he was shocked. Shocked and sickened at what he'd witnessed go down in that parking lot only a half an hour ago.

The pain in his arm, in his head, in his entire body, fell to the background as he rolled over the scene again and again in his mind's eye. His mouth went dry and he felt the overwhelming urge to throw up, but he held it in. Held tight against it, and just stared at the dark road before him.

Beside him he heard Shane shift and wince, muttering something about his fuckin' leg. Pressure built at Miles' eyes and he shook his head.

Shane hadn't said a word to him about what happened. There really hadn't been time to linger on it. Otis was screaming. Shane was yelling at him to go. And Miles was trapped somewhere in between the horror of what had happened, and the reality of what he'd seen. Or thought he'd seen.

Shit. What he knew he'd seen.

Shane shot Otis. Left him for dead. Left him to be ripped apart.

And Shane knew that Miles had seen it. All of it. He knew. And that's why he wasn't prattling on about it, or trying to get Miles to understand. Because if there was one thing that Shane had apparently learned in the months that they'd lived and survived together it was that Miles was not a child. He was not some snot nosed kid who would sit there and idly believe whatever bullshit was fed to him.

Shane knew that. And he knew the type of person Miles was.

And there had been a moment, a single fleeting second that held in the air when Shane turned to find him staring at him holding the now dead Otis' rifle, that Miles thought Shane was going to take him out too. When he saw Shane's finger twitch over that trigger and the barrel lower just a fraction of an inch his way. And truth be told, that feeling lingered in the dark, quiet confines of the truck cab.

Otis' truck.

Miles listened as Shane shifted beside him again and stiffened slightly at the sound of him sniffing loudly and then clearing his throat. He felt when Shane's eyes slid over to him; a chill running down his spine and causing him to clench tighter to the wheel. Shane's eyes stayed on him for a long time before Miles dared to look at the dark haired man from the corner of his eye.

Shane sucked in air through his teeth and then shifted his attention back to the dark road before them, and Miles continued to watch him from the corner of his eye.

"Man," Shane said quietly, his voice sounding as normal as it ever did. Which sent a fresh wave of nausea through Miles. "It's dark." Miles clenched his jaw as Shane shifted his attention quickly back to him and then back to the road. "It's amazing, don't ya think, how dark it can get without street lights or anything else, just the moon," Shane continued and Miles shifted his eyes to the road and away from the man beside him.

The air in the cab had suddenly become thick with something that Miles felt he was too young to really understand. Something he couldn't really place. Not here. Not with Shane.

"Really, man, look," Shane threw his hand out before him in a wave at the road before them. "Fuckin' dark. So dark you can't really see what's right in front of ya. Let alone something further out," Shane shifted his eyes to Miles again and again that chill flew down his spine. A bead of sweat worked its way down the side of Miles' face under that stare. And Shane continued in a tone that brought everything to light, "You know what I mean?"

A beat of silence in the thick air had Miles taking in a deep shaking breath as Shane continued to stare at him.

"Yeah," Miles said finally, his voice cracking slightly. Stiffening his shoulders, Miles cleared his throat and shook his head, his eyes never leaving the road before him. "It's dark."

Another beat of silence, that thickness growing and starting to gain ground in Miles' mind. Starting to have a name.

"You hurt? Bit?" Shane asked quietly, and again Miles felt the man's eyes glide over him. Miles shook his head in a quick jerky fashion, his eyes still glued to the road ahead. Shane was quiet for a second, his eyes still gliding over him. Miles felt the instant that they landed on his left arm laying useless in his lap, the plaster of his cast barely hanging to his hand now. The cracked and broken remains of his cast pushed into his thigh as his body tensed under Shane's scrutiny. "You wanna pull over? Let me drive?"

"Nah," Miles said, his use of such a laid-back word was said too quickly to have been taken for the nonchalant response he'd been trying for. And Miles flinched a bit because of it. "I got this," Miles said finally shifting his eyes to Shane. Their gazes met, or rather crashed into one another and instantly Miles was again looking to the road. "I got this man, just," Miles let out a breath and shook his head. "Chill." Shane's eyes remained on Miles for a few seconds more and Miles found himself taking a breath. He slipped his eyes over to Shane and found him staring at his hands. "You hurt?"

Shane's eyes snapped up and he was again staring hard at Miles. Confusion marred Shane's face for a moment before he lifted his hand up and wiped at the small trail of blood running down his forehead on the left side. Shane stared at his blood stained fingertips for a moment before his jaw clenched and he wiped it off on his pants.

"Just a scratch," Shane said quietly, his eyes again shifting to Miles beside him. Miles nodded, his tongue working to wet his suddenly dry mouth. Yeah, he knew it was a scratch, he'd seen it happen. Darkness be damned, he'd seen it.

"Yeah," Miles said his eyes sliding back to the road. "Happens."

"Musta caught it on that window when I jumped out," Shane said, and the tone of his voice was suddenly different. It wasn't the tone of someone explaining something. It was the tone of someone telling someone something.

It was that instant that Miles realized what was happening. Shane wasn't explaining his wound away, he was telling Miles how to explain it. Feeding him fuckin' lines of a sort. And finally, in that moment a name was given to the thickness in the air around them.

Threatening.

Shane's eyes again lingered on the side of his face, and Miles felt himself go numb when his eyes shifted to the side in an imperceptible motion to look at the man. He fleetingly wish that he imagined watching Shane's hand slide over the spot where his knife sat. But he wasn't a moron. Miles clenched his jaw and tightened his right hand's grip on the wheel. Letting out one shaking breath he pushed past the lump in his throat and steadied his trembling chin as he looked back to the road.

"Yeah, musta," Miles said finally into the thick air of the dark truck cab.

Silence, followed by the slide of Shane's hand over the fabric of his pants, had Miles blinking rapidly at the dark road ahead of him. And then Shane's hand was grasping at the back of his neck. The hold was tight and familiar, supposed to be comforting, and yet it stiffened Miles' back and had him sucking in a frightened breath.

"You a'right?" Shane said with a bit of a lightness now in his tone. "You're quiet."

"Bit sore, and worried," Miles said quietly blinking his eyes a few times as Shane tightened his grip just a bit. "'Bout Carl."

"Yeah," Shane said nodding his head. He then began to shake Miles in that familiar way that he always did, his hand slipping to Miles' shoulder and squeezing. "You did good, man. Real good. Prouda you, man."

Miles firmed his lip as Shane again shook his shoulder before patting it hard twice. As they fell back into silence the pressure behind Miles' eyes became so strong that he had to focus on his breathing in order to really hold the tears back. In and out through his nose, his jaw clenched to hide the ridiculous tremble of his chin. His vision blurred as the wetness covered each lens of his eye, the light of the headlights wavered in his vision, and he blinked hard. His head was throbbing now, and as Shane slipped his hand off of his shoulder and back to rest along the rifle-Otis' rifle- sitting between them Miles was thankful for the darkness of the truck's cab.

Thankful that the man next to him couldn't see the fear that he was desperately trying to hide. Idly Miles wondered what type of conversation Shane would have been having with himself had he actually followed through on that twitch of his finger when he saw Miles witness his execution of Otis. Would he have been silently contemplating his actions? Would he have been mourning them?

Or would he have been doing the same thing he was doing now; fabricating a tale to tell the people waiting for them back home.

I'm nails, I'm a knife

I'm a preacher with a gun, I'm a one man lie

I'm a king, I'm a ruse

I'm born again with no life to lose

'Cause it don't mean all that much

Does it boy? We never really had a choice

No it don't mean that much to us boy,

We never had a choice; we're conscience killers

Don't want no conscience at all

~Conscience Killer/ BRMC (Black Rebel Motorcycle Club)

AN: I hope this didn't disappoint you. I really, really hope it didn't. And I hope I've regained a bit of your happy-happy since Miles is most definitely not dead. Scare outta his damn mind, but not dead. There's not much to say here except that I'm going to be trying to bring the crew together as quickly as possible…in an effort to clear up my clusterfuck Stay tuned next chapter will be a bit bouncy, jumpy as I try to get that all worked out.

QUESTION: do y'all prefer the Review replies here? 'cause I was thinking of doing them as PM's and then glancing over any overall themes I see popping up in them. Let me know…cause unless I hear otherwise that's what's gonna be happening for this chapters reviews.

But, for now:

Piratejessieswaby & Emberka-2012: Your thoughts echoed one another in the sympathy for Callie and Jenna and Daryl. I can only say that it's gonna be rough, but that she'll have support. Thanks so much for the reviews!

LadyLecter47: So there ya go, you tell me if you think you have to use that there strong-ass pimp hand ya got. Callie and Hershel are going to be interesting, and the whole section with Daryl and Glenn was totally meant to put a bit of comedic lightness to an otherwise harsh bunch of chapters. Glad that went over well…as for casting the rest of the Avengers crew…I think I made reference to a Hulk Shane in NM:Safe with a SHANE SMASH ref..so there's another I guess. Get your tissues ready… it's gonna be a hard couple of chapters here.

TrustInFaith: DONE! *salutes*

SuperNeos2: Hey there, welcome to the reviews and thank you so much for taking the time to drop me a lilne. And to answer your question. I do that 'cause I'm evil…and it's the way I roll. I'm so glad that you're liking MY Daryl. I've worked hard on him. ;) Thanks again!

Rednecks 'n Angels: You got two in here… Amputation….Hmmm… NO SPOILERS As for Shane shooting Miles… question answered there. As for the first block of Timshel…I'm so glad it was hilarious, that's exactly what I was going for. The comic shout out was for the fact that the show is based in comics… and so in essence all of the characters are "superheroes" of one type or another. And yeah… as for everything else, guess this chapter kind of got that for ya, huh?

Cotton Strings: I'm working through to get everyone back together quickly, I promise! Stay with me. As for T-Dog…yeah, he's got a good grasp on what's going on. He doesn't talk much, so he's got plenty of time to watch, and he's not an idiot. Thanks for the feedback!

BecomingScarlett2012: thanks! I'm so glad that I made you laugh. Danny's good for that. Sorry you're still upset, but I promise…uh, well, you're gonna be upset for a while I think….

Sdwafford: Yeah, the next chapter's gonna be a rush of emotions when it comes to everyone finding out about Jenna…Ooops SPOILER I THINK. As for the Rick / Callie moment possibility NO SPOILERS FOR YOU… As for the kids, I was really trying to grasp how children of different ages would react/adapt in this situation. I find it interesting and heart-wrenching and damn good fic fodder. Thanks as always for your review.

LoyalAsAViking & AlabastR: I hit you two up with the PM's, but wanted to say thanks again for the reviews.

AngieInWonderland: Don't you be worrying about the reviewing every two chaps, I'm just happy that you still review. Thanks for the pat on the back with the clusterfuck I've created. My brain's got so much going on it's a wonder any of it actually gets put down into something that can actually be read. Working a Maggie POV was SO important for me, because she's a big character coming up with Glenn and in Season 3 so I wanted to try and fill her out. I think you are right on many levels with your review. Hershel and Callie will be interesting to watch. And Callie trying to be strong for everyone but wanting to break down…and wanting Daryl…yes, yes, yes. As for the situation with Jenna, I think it's going to be something huge for everyone to get through. A turning point before the turning point if you will. Thanks for the vote of confidence in my long-winded updates. Glad you like them!

Gothbutterfly69: Girl, you are catching up! Keep it going. And thank you so much for taking the time to review as you feel it. Glad you love MY Daryl, he's been a bit hard to keep in character but I'm working through it. I hope that you enjoy everything I've put in here.

Okay, I think that's it for now. As I said, unless I get this overwhelming NOOOOO from you, expect PMs to your reviews!

Much Love!