Everything was a mess. A bloody mess. There was this horrific smell that hung about like the scent of meat cooking at a barbecue, except, of course, that the meat was... human? Cassia wasn't sure if the walkers would still be classified as human or not. Those of the camp that had turned were being... dealt with and those that hadn't even made it that far were in such little pieces that not only were they impossible to identify, but all the survivors could do was to burn the remains. Cassia was sat on the upturned box by Dale's RV, right where she had ended up the night before. The night of the attack. She had moved around, trying to find somewhere in the camp that the smell didn't reach, but it was to no avail, and so such had returned to where Daryl had left her. Daryl himself was currently dispatching of the dead, even further, making absolutely sure that they were as proclaimed. Cassia had made sure to keep her line of vision centered far from where Daryl was. It didn't matter so much, as she could still hear him. The sickening crunch and then the squelch that was now the familiar sound of Daryl bringing the pickaxe down, destroying the brain. Even if they were due to become undead, there was no way they would be now. It had to be done, but that didn't mean it was pleasant as a sound, a sight or a concept. Cassia clutched at her stomach, her hand gripping at the fabric of her shirt, bunching up into a fist and she moaned, the dizziness coming over her once again, the nausea prompting her to drop her head down and close her eyes, propping her elbows up on her knees. The thing about all this was that Cassia had no idea if this was the pregnancy affecting her, or the smell and the events of the night before. She supposed it would be an interchangeable thing either way, each was certainly affecting the other. She dragged her hands down her face and then pushed her fingers up through her hair, holding it back from her face.

"Need a bucket?" Cassia glanced up to squint at T-Dog, the sun that was blistering down from behind him was almost blinding, and she had to put a hand up to shield her eyes. She was pale. She knew she looked pale, and that she was sweating, it was clear in his expression that he was thinking this as his eyes travelled over her face. Cass shrugged and shook her head,

"I haven't chundered yet." She replied meekly, offering him a weak grin,

"Hey, look..." he gestured for her to bring her attention back to him, his tone taking on a serious twist, "I wanted to apologise for... Merle."

"You don't need to-"

"I do. M'sorry I left him up there on that roof." Cassia tilted her head, her hand still shielding her eyes, and examined his expression in great detail, trying to pin down his level of sincerity,

"I forgive you, but I'm not even really the one who needs the apology. Daryl does. I knew Merle and I got on okay with him but Daryl is his brother. So far nobody has cared, and I think a sincere apology from you could do Daryl a lot of good." T-Dog licked his lips and a look of sheer panic flitted across his features,

"Y'sure Baby Daddy's not gonna come at me with a knife again?" He asked, and Cassia scoffed at the way he referenced Daryl,

"Shane took the knife, remember? You're safe from Daryl and his butcher act." She told him dryly, but still accompanied the statement with a smile. T-Dog seemed to appreciate this as he extended his arm and patted her shoulder amicably, smiling down at her good-humouredly. She returned the look until he suddenly glanced at something beyond and behind her and then, just like that, his genuine smile switched into an apologetic, appeasing one, and the hand disappeared very swiftly from her shoulder. He even took a few steps away from her, putting distance between them. Cass frowned and glanced over her shoulder, eyes searching for the answer to her unspoken question. Oh. Daryl. He'd put the pickacke down and was now leaning on it, his elbow propped up on the pick end of it, his other hand was holding onto the elevated one, and his expression was hard to make out in the sweltering brightness. Something about T-Dog's reaction told her he mustn't have looked pleased. Glancing back at T-Dog quickly proved that he had moved on. Even from this far away she could feel Daryl's gaze fix on her, and she spared him another look before she turned around once more and focused on the ground.

Always another argument, always a conflict. Never more than a day's peace between us and never more than five hours of happy interactions per day. Why am I still here? Why am I still with him? All he does it hurt and shout and possess. I'm not even a flirtatious person. He says I'm not the problem, that other people are the problem, but how am I supposed to believe that when I'm the one who gets punished? When I'm the one with the bruises and the torment? No, I'm not flirtatious. Not in the slightest. I only thanked the guy for opening a door for me, right? But maybe... maybe there was more than that. Did I do more? Did I not realise? Why can't I do things right and why can't I keep him happy? North Georgia might change him. Change us. Change me. That's what we need. North Georgia. Here's hoping North Georgia brings about a different Ross.

Nearing footsteps were enough to bring Cass jolting out of her nap. She couldn't exactly say that she had been sleeping, but there were definitely visuals and memories running around in her head. Past musings and trains of thought. Such hopes she'd had for this trip to Georgia, and look what had happened. The goddamn zombie apocalypse. The Outbreak. The notorious footsteps turned out to be Daryl,

"What'd T-Dog want?" It sounded a bit like he was demanding it, but that might have just been how Cassia heard him after all the thinking about Ross. She adjusted her gaze from down to the pickaxe in his hand to his face,

"To apologise."

"Apologise? What'd he do to you?"

"For what he did to Merle." She'd predicted the way his face scrunched up a little and the beginnings of a storm that started to gather in his eyes, and so Cass carried on, interrupting him before he could give his heated reply, "But I told him the apology was better spent on you. Told him you needed an apology more than I did. Turns out you freaked him out with your aggressive knife twirling. He's too scared to approach you without my reassurance." She smirked at seeing his expression change, grinning at him in amusement. He liked that. He was even looking like he wanted to laugh,

"Well... damn right. S'pose it was an accident, the key thing 'n all?" Daryl was considerably calmer by now, and Cassia allowed herself a relieved breath out, and relaxed in her posture. Daryl asked the latter part of his response as if he were waiting for her to verify his wonderings and to confirm his already half built up forgiveness. She cocked her head at him calmly and nodded,

"Merle's a racist asshole but he doesn't deserve to die. This group knows that. T-Dog knows that. Why else would he go to Atlanta with you to try and find Merle? He's ashamed. I've seen it in him when he's apologisin'." Daryl had started nodding slowly when she spoke up again, he was looking at the floor but Cass knew by now that this was a sign that he was really listening, and so she took good advantage of the opportunity, "He's really sorry, Daryl. Give him a chance and hear him out when he apologises."

"Y'think?" He asked, referring to her belief in T-Dog's sincerity, and she simply nodded, once again. Daryl licked his lips and nodded, squinting a little as his attention veered off to T-Dog himself, standing over by the graveyard campfire, discussing something with Rick and Shane. He blanched upon noticing that Daryl was staring at him, and even seemed to start sweating. Damn. Daryl made an indistinct smug noise, it was almost a snort, and Cass raised her eyebrows at him,

"Alright, Alpha male. I'm going to go talk to Andrea."

"See if you can get 'er to hand over the bod- Amy." Daryl looked awkward for a moment and then sent a nod Cassie's way before turning on his heel and striding off. Cass frowned. She couldn't remember the last time they had gotten on so well for so long. She'd even managed to avert a Dixon rage tantrum. One good thing about near death experiences are how they bring people together.

Andrea. Andrea was a different story. She was pale, just as Cassia had been earlier, and she was sure the woman might also be feeling sick, but for a different reason enirely. Cassia's sickness had been due to a life not yet born or begun, and Andrea's was for a life just lost and ended. Cassia would have appreciated the poetry of it all if the situation were entirely fictional or at least metaphorical, but alas...

Everything about Andrea was still, as Cassia approached her. Everything but her eyes. They travelled over Amy's remains in repetitive, fluid motions, it looked as if every detail, every aspect and every memory of the girl were being committed faithfully to memory. Cassia sunk down to crouch down next to Andrea, and then carefully maneuvred down into a sitting position. It wasn't hard or even unpleasant, it was just that little bit uncomfortable now that she was pregnant. She was thankful for the time she had now when she could do it, before she got even bigger and more pregnant. Andrea didn't even glance her way. There was so much tragedy in her eyes. They were usually very coy and knowing, as if she knew everything about you before you did yourself. They were always somehow searching, her blue eyes, as if she always needed to know more. Not now. Now she looked like she would shatter if she was spoken to too harshly. Cassia couldn't blame her, not like Daryl could. It was so hard to let go.

"Valerie was always so full of life and questions, just like Amy." Cassia stated quietly, eyes flitting to Andrea when the statue broke it's state to turn her head ever so slightly in her direction, "I met that girl when I was three years old, and every time she blew out the candles on every birthday cake she had, she always wished to travel. I would be the only one she could tell about that, because I was her best friend, and so it was different." Cass smiled, it was a wistful smile, albeit a very sad one, and rubbed at her neck before continuing, "We started to plan his roadtrip when we were thirteen. Well, I was thirteen; she was fifteen. We'd start in Georgia, we'd drive North to East to West to South, and then we'd catch a plane and fly out to Thailand. I don't know why that was the plan, exactly. I only got to choose the roadtrip part. I'd closed my eyes and placed my finger down on a map, and when I opened my eyes, I'd chosen Georgia. Valeria got Thailand when it was her turn, and so that was the plan," Cassia licked her lips and glanced at Andrea, who had never taken her eyes off of Amy's face, but had angled her head slightly towards Cassia, and was obviously listening. "It was supposed to be just the two of us, but... but Ross couldn't stomach the thought of me going away for whoever knew how long, unattended, so he joined us and two became three." She knew Andrea would be able to read behind the lines there, and work out what she'd meant by that, "We arrived in North Georgia and met the Dixon brothers the very same day. Their house was not even three minutes away from the one we were renting. Merle took a liking to Valerie straight away, and she fell right under his spell, just like that." Cassia clicked and sighed, dragging a hand down her face before carrying on. It was getting to the hardest part of the story, "Two and a half weeks later and the dead are up and walking and chewing on every living thing they can get their hands on. Valerie was-" A lump in her throat made it hard for her to swallow and her voice broke a little, "Valerie was with Merle when it reached us. I don't know if he tried to save her when he got out of there, but he certainly didn't look back when he was running towards us. We all tried so hard to.. to save her. I tried so hard, Andrea, but the thing is that it doesn't matter what you do or how hard you fight. When the world decides it wants to take someone, it will take them. I got to her too late. She'd been bitten, and this was before I knew what that meant, but her immune system had always been weak, and a lot of her right arm was missing, and her intestines were not in her body the way they were supposed to be... she died in my arms."

A hand laid itself down on top of Cassia's trembling one, and squeezed very feebly. She brought a sleeve up and wiped away the traitor tears, trying to keep the noise to an absolute minimum. Andrea squeezed her hand again and she looked up to see that Andrea was actually looking at her. Cass swallowed thickly and Andrea's eyes swam with sorrow and deep rooted pain, upon closer inspection, but above all that, at the very surface, there was sympathy and gratefulness,

"Thank you." Was all Andrea whispered, but the sentiment behind it brought power to the words, a sort of grace to them. Cass was sure it was all Andrea could manage, but it was enough, it was more; it was beyond the words she'd spoken. The thanks was for more. Andrea returned to Amy. Cassia nodded and got to her feet, patting Andrea's shoulder as she passed behind her.

Jim was bit. Jim.

It was all beginning to be too much.

Daryl wanted to axe him in the head right then and there. Cassia didn't even have the energy or spirit to try and stop him. Rick and Shane did it instead, probably more effectively, too. Rick's solution was probably actually more harmful than Daryl's but it was optimistic for a change, and it was hopeful. It wasn't a big kind of hope or even an acknowledged one, but it was still there. It seemed likely the group would be heading for the CDC, if Rick got his way. Jim was hidden away in Dale's RV with people volunteering to watch him and take care of him, and Daryl and his pickaxe was kept under constant scrutiny. She let Daryl rant to her about it for a bit, until something about an expression change had convinced him she was rolling her eyes or something, and they had an argument. It wasn't an unexpected occurrence. Hormones and the Dixon temper would never go hand in hand. There was bound to be daily upset.

She yawned, a hand going absentmindedly to her stomach, she smoothed it over the ever growing swelling there. It was still so slight, so subtle, but it was more pronounced than it had been, because of the sudden lack of food and nourishment she had been receiving herself. If she wore baggy clothes she could still easily disguise it, but a vest or clingy shirt revealed it to be the baby bump that it was. It was too well rounded to be fat. Too firm. She really was exhausted, but she couldn't even sleep, her mind was always plagued with the mixed horrors of the past and the present. Valerie's face featured regularly. Cassia would never in her life forget the last time she'd seen the light in her best friend's eyes, the last time she'd smiled at her, never forget how all she could do was sit there and sob and whisper to her as the light left those eyes, but the smile always remained. Cass sniffed and looked sharply away from her hand. She had a ring there with a little moon engraved on it, while Valerie had owned the sun. Now, Cassia had both, and didn't know what to do with either.

Daryl returned to her later on, when she was sat by the campfire. They never apologised to each other when they argued, but there was always an unspoken forgiveness between them after a few hours. He must have noticed the pensive staring at the rings, as he sat down heavily in the seat beside her and spoke up,

"Bet she's proud." He remarked, and Cassie was brought right out of her miserable reverie, shooting him a questioning look. Daryl never looked anywhere near her but spoke again,

"Val."

"Proud of what?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Yup."

"For moping around being nauseous and useless?" Daryl snorted at that and shook his head, stretching his legs out infront of him and putting them up on a little broken mini fridge infront of him, crossing them at the ankles,

"Nah, for survivin'. She only ever talked 'bout you."

"No she-"

"T'me, she did. Couldn't never shut up 'bout it. Annoyin'." He grumbled, but she could see what he was trying to say. Once again, he was trying to make her feel better. Cassia studied him thoughtfully for a moment before inclining her head,

"Thanks." She offered, but he was already pretending to sleep. She actually did roll her eyes this time and sighed, "I don't know what to do with these rings."

Daryl said nothing, but his breathing was not even or slowed down enough for him to be sleeping, and his posture was still too well held together. He'd heard her.

Which was why she knew who the culprit was the next morning, when she found a little pouch with a silver chain as the contents outside her tent the next morning.