Author's Note: Thank you for being awesome!

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Fort Benning was a lost cause. Rick's car was at the front and he braked sharply on the brow of a hill, forcing both Daryl and Glenn to swerve. He cursed and swung the wheel of the car to pull up alongside Rick and chew him out for his shitty driving, but slammed his own brakes on instead.

Fort Benning was below them, dozen of buildings all crammed together and surrounded by a high wall that was topped with barbed wire. The heavy gates were half open and the place was swarming with Walkers. Literally hundreds of them.

"Fuck." He mumbled under his breath, fist slamming on the wheel. He turned to look out his window, to catch Rick's eye and see what he wanted to them to do, but the other man had his head resting on the wheel, clearly distraught.

"Look." Carol pointed to the bottom of the hill, where cars had piled up, rusting and abandoned. Plenty of people had tried for this place and failed. It wasn't the cars she was pointing out though, but the Walkers that were picking their way through, groaning and gurning as they made the slow trek up the hill.

He threw the truck into reverse, narrowly missing Glenn's car as he backed up to turn the car around. The other two cars quickly followed him and in minutes, Fort Benning disappeared from the rearview mirror. And with it, disappeared the last hope any of them had for some authority to rescue them.

They didn't stop driving until they made it well into Heard county, where they had to refuel. The rain had started up again, heavy and somber, reflecting the mood perfectly. They camped earlier than normal, another house this time and Carol waited in the car when Daryl got out, picking up his crossbow from the truck bed. She slid over to his seat in the driver's side to get a better view of the men going into the property.

She never really got a chance to drive since she left her home. Ed always took charge of that and then when they left the quarry, Rick took his turn. The truck was a manual, and she ran her hand over the gear stick experimentally. It took her back to memories of her first car, a heap of rust that required special care just to get the engine running. The stick always used to get stuck in third gear.

After what seemed like forever, Daryl came out of the house, signalling that it was safe to come closer and park up. He slung his bow over his back as he made his way down the driveway to come collect her. She wondered if he even knew she could drive. She turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. With a slight crunch, she managed to get the stick into first gear and the car rolled forward as she lifted her foot off the clutch. It juddered as she tried to get the balance between the gas and clutch pedals when changing gears but she was pleased when she drove slowly past Daryl without stalling. He watched from his spot on the front lawn and she saw his sharp intake of breath when she wrenched the handbrake up before the car had completely stopped, bringing it to a shuddering halt.

He opened the driver's side door for her and she pulled the lapels on her coat up to shield her from the wet somewhat and grabbed the bags from the floor of the passenger side. He just looked at her as she gathered herself to make the run into the house.

"What?" She asked finally. "It's soaking, don't just stand there, you'll catch a cold." And with that, she slammed the door shut, racing into house behind Lori, her bag over her head to shield her from the rain.

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This house instantly had a better feel to it than the last house she stepped into. It's previous owners didn't have any children for starters. A couple, the no-nonsense kind, judging by the decor. She only spotted a handful of pictures on the mantlepiece that indicated that they were perhaps in their fifties and the active sort. She didn't venture upstairs anyway, just in case, busying herself with the bedding that the others retrieved from the first floor instead. There was just two double mattresses and she shoved the couches about to make room for them on the sitting room floor. Carl came to her bearing a blow up mattress and she set to work with the foot pump.

Daryl had gone to hunt, so he told Rick. He hadn't had much chance since they left the Greene farm and she knew he was eager to get back to it. He insisted on going alone and she wanted to voice her protest. None of them knew the area, the likelihood of running into Walkers or some other danger but as if he knew she was about to speak he promised them he would be back in two hours.

Once she'd finished making up their beds, she made to help Lori and Beth in the kitchen, there was a traditional wood burner for cooking and she had to resist clapping with delight when she saw it begin to smoke. It had been too long since their last hot meal. The warmth was wonderful. She almost moaned with pleasure when she tested out the tap and cold water began streaming into the sink.

"Rick. Do you think we'll have enough time to wash clothes, dry them out in here?" It was Lori who asked the question. She had already confided to Carol that the smell of sweat and staleness that lingered on them all was making her even more nauseous than normal. They were all wearing their cleanest things, things that had been worn for three days. Everything else left had been worn even longer.

Rick considered it for a moment and nodded. "We can wait, if we have to." He pressed a kiss to his wife's temple before heading out of the room.

It took some time, but eventually she found some washing powder and a tub and settled herself in the small utility room to scrub at the clothes. The pile seemed to grow as one by one each group member trickled in with another bundle of cloth but she found herself not minding. It kept her hands and her mind busy. There had been far too little to do recently and she was trying hard to keep the bad thoughts away. She had promised to try.

She knew he was back when she began to smell meat cooking from the kitchen and a few minutes later he came in, his hands red with blood and speckled with dirt.

"What happened?" She frowned at him as he reached past her to get to the small sink in the corner of the room.

"Nothin'. Been guttin' dinner."

"Oh." There was nothing else to say to that. She kept working at the pile of clothes until he left, scrubbing the stains out as best as she could without a proper scrubbing board. She already had T-Dog in mind to wring each item out as best as he could before she constructed a washing line in the kitchen. The man was probably the closest thing to a wringer that she was going to get.

"Carol, dinner's ready." Maggie pushed her head around the door and let out a low whistle when she spotted the massive mound of clean, wet clothes. "You been busy."

"Well, it's got to be done." She smiled.

The kitchen was far too small for them all to be in it, but everyone swarmed about, eager to get their plate of hot food. It was an odd mish mash; a little rabbit, some pasta coated in a tomato sauce, something that looked suspiciously like macaroni cheese and tinned tomatoes. The smell of the meat made her mouth water and for the first time in what felt like a life time, she wanted to eat something.

Beth handed her a plate and she wandered off into the sitting room, where most of them seemed to be heading, a can of soda tucked under one arm. She sat on the window box, drawing her feet up and crossing her legs under her, settling the plate in her lap. The rain was hammering down now, although she couldn't see much, it was already dark and the curtains were drawn, just a sliver of the window was exposed.

The rabbit tasted as good as it smelt. It had been seasoned with what she thought was dried rosemary and she used her fingers to stuff every last bit of it into her mouth. When she realised that she was on her last piece, she chewed slowly, savouring the taste.

Daryl joined her as she sucked the grease of her fingers, sitting on the floor near her and taking a pull from a familiar brown bottle before starting his own meal.

"Hey, where's the beer at?" Glenn waved his fork at the bottle in Daryl's hand.

"Don't bother, man." Daryl scoffed at the younger man. "We all know you can't handle your drink."

Everyone laughed, not only because it was true but because Glenn didn't even deny it. And when T-Dog came in bearing the box of bottles and the opener, he snagged one quickly, popping it open and taking a gulp. T-Dog offered to everyone, only Lori and Hershel refused and when it came to her turn, she nodded, letting him pop the cap off and pass it over. She'd never been one for alcohol. Sure, in her college days, she'd drunk to excess, nights where she drunk so much she couldn't remember what happened. She recalled the day she finished her finals, where she and her roomates went out and got so drunk that she ended up with the stupid tattoo on her side. It didn't mean anything and according to her roommate who did have recollections of that day, she had chosen it simply because it was pretty. She'd grown to love it. On her younger self, when her skin was taut and her body leaner, she even thought it to be attractive. Sexy, almost. Ed had hated it. A tramp stamp, he called it. Still, it was hidden enough that he was the only one to have seen it. Apart from Daryl of course, although she couldn't be sure what exactly he was looking at, she thought it was the tattoo he spotted that day they washed together in the river.

Still, one beer couldn't hurt. Maybe it would even help her sleep. She usually woke up at least half a dozen times during the night. It tasted bitter in her mouth, but it disguised the taste of the food that she didn't want to eat, nothing would taste good after the rabbit. But she would eat it or risk a tongue lashing from him again.

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He couldn't recall ever seeing her drink before. Did she drink that night in the CDC? He couldn't remember, but then he was so shit-faced that night she could've been snorting coke in front of him and he wouldn't have noticed. She didn't seem the type to let go. Still, if she ate her food, she could drink what she liked.

He didn't want to hover around her, he felt like a nag and it was not in his nature to give a shit about someone else but someone had to give a shit about her. She'd all but said that she wanted to off herself and he wouldn't let that happen. Not just because of her, but because of everyone else. She was the mother figure of the group and many of them relied on her for their own emotional needs. He stood by his statement. This group was broken. They were slowly starting to repair themselves but if she left them now, they'd be back to fucked again.

And if there was an afterlife or some crazy shit, he figured she'd regret it. She'd gone through her whole marriage still standing, when Sophia was missing and she told him that she'd lost hope, she stayed alive. She wouldn't just opt out. She couldn't.

The Greene girls offered to hang all the washing out on a makeshift line in the kitchen but Carol insisted on helping them. She didn't sit still at all, after the clothes were pegged up, it was washing the dishes, then stoking the fire and lighting more candles. In the end, Lori forcibly dragged her away, telling her to rest.

She slept on a blow up mattress near the window, Beth next to her, curled up into her side. The younger girl had taken to following her around quite a bit recently and Carol didn't seem to mind. He took the armchair, legs hooked over one arm to get the most comfortable position possible. He was close to dozing off when he saw her move suddenly, sitting up and looking towards the window. She turned around, looking for him and her eyes snatched back to the window again.

"Did you see that?" She muttered urgently, pulling herself from the bed. "That light?"

Daryl sat up, following her gaze, when she moved to the window he leapt up and grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her down to the floor. He had seen it. Light moving back and forth outside, a torch? He put a finger to his lips and she looked up at him fearfully, but did as he asked. He looked through the gap in the curtains carefully.

There were two torches being flashed about and their owners were definitely living. "It ain't Walkers." He muttered down to her. The noise disturbed some of the others and he waved his hand at Rick, telling him to keep low. The figures were inspecting the cars and he saw one linger at the truck, running the light over his bike. Definitely male, they were both stocky and tall and although he couldn't hear them, he could sense friction between them, as if they were arguing. One went back to the truck, running the light over the body of a bike, an arm reaching out to touch the saddle. It was then, that Daryl felt his heart stop. He knew who one of the strangers was. The arm didn't have a hand.

He leant back on his knees. He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Rick came up up to him on his knees, his hand touching his shoulder and Daryl shrugged it off aggressively, an almost violent reaction. He looked down at Carol, who was hunched underneath him, hand wrapped tight around his wrist.

"It's my brother." He finally managed to choke out. "It's Merle."