She sleeps lightly, and when she wakes in the morning, it's to find Patricia slipping into the room to change the bandage at her side. Cal watches her, noting the crows feet tugging at her eyes, and the dark shadows that lounge atop her cheeks. There is a tightness to her lips, and a sadness to her eyes. Their eyes meet for a moment before Patricia looks away. She doesn't say anything until she's finished, and even then it's only a soft spoken voice in the quiet of the room."Rick will want to talk to you," the older woman says, before standing and leaving.

Cal doesn't wait long. Rick and Hershel enter the room shortly thereafter, their faces blank. She realizes that Rick isn't wearing his police uniform, and it unsettles her.

That badge hold any meaning anymore?

It can.

The two men settle around her. Hershel takes a seat at the end of the bed, and Rick settles himself on an old chair. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. She supposes the lightness of his expression is to make her feel more at ease – it doesn't. For a long while he considers her, even as Hershel hands her a few antibiotics and a glass of water. They are a welcome distraction from Rick's stare, and she pushes them past her lips.

"We need to know more 'bout that group," he says quietly. "We've got people we need to protect."

Daryl had said something about children, and while she had yet to see any, she had met Patricia, the woman with the sad eyes, Hershel with his cane, and the older man in the bucket hat, Dale, with his stiff walk. While she is still suspicious of them, she remembers the shock and fear on the mens' faces when they'd seen the little girl's doll. They were afraid for her.

And now Rick asks her about the group. We've got people we need to protect, he says.

"More than three," she says. "I heard them saying something about the pharmacy – heard them mention someone else. I think they're keeping stock. I'd be careful sending your people into that place."

Rick glances at Hershel. Hershel's lips are thin and his brows drawn.

"Did they see you?"

There is a long moment of drawn in breath, and then the quietest whisper, "yes."

Rick grits his teeth. "Tell me."

"They caught sight of me. Chased me through the town. They got a truck. I don't know about guns – they didn't let off a shot," she remembers the boy hollering in her ear, whooping for joy as he raced after her. "They didn't catch me," she says. "But they wanted to."

Rick nods and sucks back his anger. He catches Hershel's eye, and he notices the apprehension there – as if he isn't quite certain what he is hearing, as if the world shouldn't be so far gone.

"Daryl tells me you wouldn't tell him 'bout Sophia. You thought he was with them?"

She nods.

She hated worrying for someone else. It wasn't something she had felt in a long time; it wasn't something she had ever thought she'd feel again, especially now with the world the way it was. She had been ready to hold out as long as she could, and to protect someone she knew nothing of, to save a girl from the treachery of mankind.

"I'd be careful while looking for her. Those aren't the sort of men you want to run into - and you definitely don't want them following you back here."

Hershel's lips are thinned and white and he is staring out the window, considering something beyond Cal's line of sight.

Rick stands and nods, "thank you." Hershel follows suit, and the two men move towards the door. Rick pauses and glances back, "some of us are heading out today to look for Sophia. If you need anything, just holler."

He's turning away when she calls his name.

"I hope you find that little girl," she says to him.

He nods, "me too."


She can see the yard if she sits up. She can see the group of people gathered around the nose of an old truck. Men and women and young people and old. She's watching Daryl stalk off towards the barn when someone wanders into the room, a long haired woman with wide brown eyes. She stands at the door, a tray in her hands and indecision writ on her face. Cal stares at her, and the woman stares back. Eventually she moves and sets the tray down at the bedside table.

"I'm Lori," she says, her voice sharp.

"Cal."

"Carol will be checking up on you too."

"Thanks."

Cal can feel the tension that rolls off of the other woman. She can't blame her. Discomfort was the way of the world.

Both women are quiet. Lori eventually looks away and out the window, towards the assorted group of men and women collecting around the nose of a truck. She crosses her arms, and blows a piece of loose hair out of her eyes. Cal pulls the tray onto her lap and bites into the sandwich. Her eyes flutter shut as she chews; the taste of butter and ham and cheese almost hurts. There is a glass of water sweating beside the plate, and she cringes as the cold bites her teeth.

"You out in those woods for long?" Lori settles against an old table and watches her eat.

"Not really," she says around a mouthful of food. She doesn't offer anything else, and she can tell that her short reply doesn't help to settle Lori's mood.

It seems like an hour before she finishes, eating every scrap of food off the tray. There is a peach that she nearly inhales, and for a long time afterwards she sucks on the pit until her tongue is sore. Eventually, begrudgingly, she places the pit in a napkin. Lori offers her a tight smile as she fetches the tray, though it isn't hard to see how tentative it is.

"Finding that doll means something to our people," Lori murmurs. Cal doesn't say anything – she looks out the window and watches as the last few members of the group move around their makeshift camp. "We've been having... a tough time of it. We could all use a little hope." The way her voice catches causes Cal to glance at her sharply. Lori moves towards the door. "I just wanted you to know that. We're grateful."

And then she leaves.

Cal lays in bed, staring at the door.

The house is quiet with life – the occasional murmuring voice or soft conversation are the only things she can hear. Someone laughs softly; the sound is so genuine and real that she swallows back a thickness at the back of her throat. The sound is almost foreign; it's so entirely different from everything else in the world.

Slowly, and without meaning to, she sinks away into a sleep.


She dreams. Of things long gone. Of a man sitting in the dark, unaware of his daughter out from her bed, murmuring to himself of the things he'd seen and done. Of a little girl running through the woods, hounded by snarling shadows. Of a world succumbed to immutable sadness, and the soft lilting tune of a whistle.

And of a lightning storm, silent and without thunder – daring in its beauty.


The silence shatters. The single crack of a gunshot echoes. The house draws in a breath around her, and she can feel the world shutter as a beacon alights the sky. Here we are, it shouts, come and get us.

The world stretches as she wakes. She struggles to sit upright. The duct tape saves her stitches, the tautness of it sucking at her skin rather than her healing, doctored wound. For a long moment she sits there, breathing in the thick air of the stuffy room, and then the house erupts with a quiet activity.

They move past her room, hurried and desperate. The look on Rick's face is of hardened concentration as he and another man heft an unconscious person between them. Several others follow after, the concern on their face evident. She's pushing back the covers when someone hesitates at her door – Shane, the tempest.

Their eyes meet for a moment, and his lips twitch. He shakes his head and moves on down the hall. She sets back against the wall, and waits, listening to the hurried whispers from the room down the hall, and the angry murmurs of discontent. At length, Rick comes into her room. He sets himself down in a chair and stares at the blood on his hands – dark, and browned, she thinks, the blood of a walker. She stares at him, and he at his hands. Eventually, he looks up and meets her eye.

"Something happened to Daryl in the woods," he says slowly. "He's unconscious. We didn't get a lot out of him."

"The gunshot?"

"One of our people made a mistake."

She blinks, "is he hurt?"

Rick's jaw tightens, "Daryl was going back to where you found Sophia's doll." He's watching her, waiting for her response. "Ran into some trouble out there, we don't know what. The usual: walkers. Maybe something else." The room is stuffy. The air is thick and heavy. She knows what he's doing. He's dropping bait, and waiting to see if she'd react. He's testing her, and her allegiances, to see if she was alone as she had claimed. After a long while he rubs at his nose, "just thought you should know."

"Is he going to be okay?" It's a foreign question, one she's uncertain if she really wants to know the answer to.

Rick considers her for a moment. "He'll be fine." He gets up and leaves the room, pausing momentarily in the hall when she raises her voice.

"I'd like to start help looking for the girl tomorrow."

Rick glances over his shoulder at her, his jaw tense and his eyes dark. She can see the indecision, the uncertainty, the doubt. He wants to trust her, but he's cautious and careful. "We'll see."

He pulls the door shut. There is no sound of a lock clicking into place; no echo of something barricading the way out. There doesn't need to be. He simply pulls it shut, blocking her from their world.


There is a tension left in him, something he can't shake. Merle is still there, dancing behind his eyes and laughing at him, taunting him with that shit eating grin of his. He's there in his ear even as he crawls from unconsciousness; he's there in the room even as he blinks into awareness and finds Shane and Rick and Hershel looming over his bed.

"Daryl," Rick's voice makes him wince.

"Damn, not so loud."

"Do you remember what happened?" Hershel asks.

"Yeah. Someone shot me," he grouses.

"What happened out in the woods, man?" Shane ignores the pointed look from Rick.

Daryl glances between the three men, somewhat overwhelmed by the pounding of his head, and the throbbing of his side, and all the goddamn questions. Hershel is looking at him levelly; Shane waits with an expectant look on his face; Rick's jaw tightens over and over.

All three cast a glance down the hallway towards the only other door – firmly shut.

"You went back to where Sophia's doll was found?" Shane's voice is careful.

"Yeah, and the trail was a dead end. Thought I'd scout a bit, see if I could get somethin'."

"Did you see anyone in the woods?" Shane glowers. "They do that to you?" He gestures to the bandaged wrapped around Daryl's middle.

Daryl hesitates, his brother looming in his mind. "Nah man – dumb animal spooked and threw me -"

"If you had just asked me, I could have told you that Nelly would have done that," Hershel murmurs.

Rick steps forward, his eyes intent, "you didn' see anyone else out there?"

Daryl sees the way the three men cast varying looks of doubt and suspicion down the hall. "If this is about the girl -" Shane opens his mouth to say something "- she ain't got nothin' to do with this."

The tension in the room freezes.

"You sure?" Rick asks.

Daryl huffs, "I'm sure."

"And you didn't see no one else?" Shane reiterates.

Daryl scoffs, "nah man. Just a couple geeks. Our trail from yesterday ain't disturbed none either."

The tension in the room relaxes.

Rick glances at Shane. The other man is looking away, out the window towards the golden fields. There is a relief in Rick's glance, as if a burden has been lifted. He sighs and looks back to Daryl, taking in the wrapped bandages. "Hershel says you should be off your feet for a while -"

"- gotta find Sophia."

Rick shakes his head, "and we will. We'll keep lookin' tomorrow. You're gonna stay here, and rest up."

Rick, Hershel and Shane turn to leave when Daryl's voice catches them, "you gonna take Cal up on her offer?"

Shane and Hershel are staring at Rick. Rick's jaw is working, and then he nods, "yeah. I think I might."

As they leave, Carol slips past them with a plate of food and a soft, sad smile.


She wakes to the soft light of dawn, and rises from the bed. The first few moments on her own two feet are shaky, and then she feels the rush of renewed strength from the first good meal and rest she's had in months. She moves to stand at the window.

The only other person seemingly awake is the young asian man slouched in the lawn chair atop the RV. She watches him, the land sweeping out from the farmhouse, and the silent shapes of the tents. She doesn't know how long she stands there, but when Patricia and Hershel's daughter, Maggie, as she introduces herself, wanders into the room she realizes her heels ache.

Patricia eases her to the bed and helps change her bandages. Maggie stands off to the side, a bundle of clothes tucked in her arm. "Thought you might need some new clothes," Maggie says, holding out the pile with a careful smile. "They might fit a little funny."

"Thank you."

Maggie smiles, and eyes the duct taped forearms of Cal's long sleeved shirt. "I don't need them back, so you can do what you need to 'em."

Maggie and Patricia leave, the two woman sliding out of the room with soft and tentative smiles. Cal changes, peeling off her old clothing with a grimace and a sigh of relief. She shrugs the new long sleeve shirt on, and is fussing with the cuffs when someone knocks at the door.

"Come in," she says.

Rick hesitates in the doorway. "I talked to Daryl."

The tension from yesterday, after Daryl had returned worse for wear, had been suffocating. She could only assume he thought she was involved in some way.

"Is he okay?"

"Yeah," Rick nods, and moves through the door with renewed confidence. "Said his horse threw him. Knowing Daryl," he scoffs lightly, "probably more to it than that, but he won't say nothin'." Cal nods. "He's laid up today – Hershel's orders. I was thinkin' you might like to help look for Sophia."

Cal blinks up at him. When she had asked the day before the intensity and venom in his voice had been startling.

We'll see.

There were things he needn't say. Daryl had been unconscious and injured, hurt by something Rick had said. The implications hadn't been spoken, they hadn't been needed to. She couldn't fault him his suspicion, it was the only thing that would keep him and his group alive.

He's looking at her expectantly, waiting her reply. She nods, and says, "of course."

He accompanies her out of the house and to the same truck she'd seen yesterday. A small group of people are gathering around it, looming over a fresh map and biting into fresh fruit.

"Want one?" The young asian man she'd seen sulking about stands in front of her. He's holding out a basket of peaches. "I'm Glenn."

"Cal," she says as she takes one. The others around the truck nod in greeting, introducing themselves around their morning meal. Shane, and the cold blond woman, Andrea, hardly acknowledge her. The older gentleman with the bucket hat from the night before, Dale, offers her a reassuring smile, and stands confidently at her side. His ease puts her off, and for a moment she considers moving away.

"It means a lot that you're helping," he says quietly. When she glances at him sharply he nods towards the short haired woman standing forlornly off near the RV. "To Carol and the group," he adds.

She doesn't say anything.

Rick and Shane are quietly discussing areas of the map, while a young man leans over the nose of the truck and points out key areas – developments, small clusters of commercial buildings, farmsteads and ranches. He introduces himself as Jimmy, the boyfriend of Beth. He points out the town in which Cal had come from, and it is only when the silence becomes deafening that she realizes everyone is looking at her. "You came from here?" He asks.

"Yeah," she nods.

"Those men had a truck. They could be anywhere," Shane says.

Rick glances at Shane and Cal, "gas is still a precious commodity. They take a lot from that pharmacy?"

Cal shakes her head, "I don't know. I don't think so."

Rick's jaw tenses. "What's the nearest town 'sides that one, Jimmy?"

Jimmy points out a larger dot on the map. "Senoia. About forty five minutes from here. Woodbury is another fifteen past that." Shane rubs at his head, and lets out a soft curse. Jimmy glances back and forth between the calm intensity of Rick and the flaring temper of Shane. "What?"

Shane lets out a scoff, "if you jump in your momma's car an' drive to the convenience store, you go to the one closer or further away?"

Jimmy blinks. "Closer."

"If they're from Senoia, why ain't they goin' to Woodbury? If they're nearer Senoia, why ain't they goin' there? These assholes are probably right on our front step-"

"Shane," Rick warns.

"This ain't just 'bout that little girl anymore, Rick. The safety of the group-"

"What are you suggesting?" Rick grinds out.

Shane glances at Cal and Jimmy warily, and then back to Rick, "you know what I think."

Rick's jaw is tight. He grinds his teeth for a moment before he glances back to Cal and Jimmy. He points at the map, circling his finger several miles around the town – over an assortment of farms, orchards, and outlying communities. "They're nearer the town. If we give it a wide berth, we'll be less likely to run into them."

Shane scoffs, but Rick ignores him. He points out a farmhouse Daryl had visited several days earlier. "It's close to the creek," Rick says, pointing out where Daryl had revealed the location of the doll. The two points are hardly a mile from one another.

"I think we should send a few of our people that way. Daryl's out for today. I'm thinkin' that Cal, you and I, we're going to -"

Shane scoffs lightly, "I'm comin' with you, man."

Rick shakes his head, "no. I need you to check on this development." He points at one that Jimmy had mentioned previously. It sits on the opposite side of the creek from the town, a few miles out from the general area Rick had drawn around the town. "After practise this mornin', take the best shot with you. In and out."

Shane's jaw clenches and he nods.

Cal doesn't say anything. She glances back and forth between the two men. The tension is electric.

When Shane turns and leaves she watches him – the way he walks, the way he moves. He's in rut, she thinks. He's temperamental and dangerous and dark – and he means something to Rick.

He means the world.