A/N: Damn. I am on a roll here. xD I hope you all are still with me. I know that this all is a bit tedious, but it will slow up once I reach the mid-season episodes - I promise. Until then, enjoy.

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Olive turned onto her side, the mucus coating her throat now stuffed into her sinuses so compact, so tight, that she felt her head pounding, pounding - like it was waiting to implode. Shaky, clammy hands cradled her head as if for a sickly kind of comfort, all the while knowing that this flu threatened to become far worse if she couldn't keep it together while Daryl was away. What if she actually did die? What then? What would become of Daryl?

Mustn't think about that. Get well again or you'll definitely lose him!

"Olive?" a voice said from the doorway. The way her head was pounding caused the vocal tones of the person in the doorway to sound undulated and wavy as if they were underwater. She knew the voice belonged to Hershel regardless of the way her head was spinning - if she hadn't been sitting and leaning back against the wall, she'd have keeled over from the vertigo.

"I'm fine," she managed weakly before coughing and shifting, feeling the pressure in her chest. "Just the flu is all." She could hear the clicks of his crutches against the cement floor, the realization finally hitting her. "What the hell are you doing inside here? It's not safe. You could get sick or worse - "

"I know that already."

"Then what the hell?"

"I'm in here to help. The resident doctor has taken sick with the virus and has shut himself inside of his cell."

"Subramanian has the virus?" She thought she could make out a nod from the old man, but continued to speak regardless. "Do I have it?"

Hershel sighed, placing his hand over her forehead. The warmth of his skin was a slight comfort, almost like a father's care, and she relished the gesture even though he was merely checking for a fever. "If you did have the virus, you'd have a fever. You don't. You're freezing."

Olive nodded, shifting the blanket to be tighter around her shoulders. "I know." She paused, swallowing a mixture of saliva and sinus drainage before continuing. "I wish Daryl was here."

Hershel listened to her speak, allowing her time to cough before he spoke again. "I know you do. I'm sure he's on his way back. When he gets here, he'll have things I need to make people well again inside this zone. You'll need to drink some of what I make and then you can get back to him."

"You want to vaccinate me?" He nodded again and she closed her eyes, refusing to deal with the vertigo as it was beginning to cause her stomach acid to churn. "Good. I don't want to get Daryl sick."

"Exactly why you'll drink what I give you, alright?" His crutches clicked against the floor, the echoes getting farther away as he left her to her nauseated form of dizziness.

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Her footfalls against the forest floor were heavy as she and her siblings distanced themselves from the hoarde they'd left back at the store, back where her father had sacrificed himself to give them time to get away.

"Ollie, wait," Lacey said, rather short of breath as she stopped running, pale hands gripping her knees as she bent over, coughing and sputtering her shortness of breath. "I can't run much farther."

Olive stopped, wheeling around to move back to where her brother, Grant, was patting their littlest sister on the back. At seventeen, Lacey was the youngest of the three of them and the skinniest and palest by far. She was a freckled, sickly-looking girl with long, strawberry blonde hair and the biggest green eyes Olive had ever seen. She was frightened all the time now and given what had just happened to their father, it was understandable.

"Lacey, we need to keep moving," Olive warned her. "It's nearly nightfall and these dweebs will be all over us by then. We have to get somewhere better, somewhere safer."

"Olive, I'm tired - "

"We're all tired, Lace. We need to keep going."

"She's right," Grant agreed, though his eyes said otherwise. "We'll find some house somewhere and stay there. We need to move."

"We need to move now," Olive corrected, gesturing to an oncoming herd against the treeline.

Reluctantly, they all took off running once more with Grant's friend Ned pulling up the rear. They were nearly clear of the treeline when Ned let out a horrified scream and all turned back in time to see two of the dweebs munching on his leg and shoulder. Grant screamed and began shooting at them, but he missed and Olive forced him away, yelling that they needed to keep moving - Ned was now lost to them.

Several miles later, the trio was clear of the dweebs that had impounded the fourth in their group. Taking shelter inside of a ramshackle shed of sorts, they barred themselves in and kept the room dark, each of them making certain to avoid the windows.

"He's dead...I can't believe we left him...he's gone...Ned's dead...they fucking ate him...what the hell..."

Grant was in the corner, his knees pulled into his chest and his eyes wide with fright. Olive could see through the darkness that his entire body was shaking.

She moved over to him. "We've all lost people, Grant," she said, trying her very best to remain strong. "We lost Dad, too, and - "

"And Mom. And Henry. And Darlene. And Justin. And Kyle." Olive saddened at the memory of those in their group that they had lost along the way. "What the fuck is the point in going on? There's nothing out there, no way of surviving. In the end, we're gonna die."

"Don't talk like that, especially not within Lacey's earshot." Lacey was curled into a ball and sleeping against an adjacent wall. "We've made it this far - there is something more out there, something just for us, some place we can call home again."

"Where is it, then, Olive? We've lost everyone."

"We have each other. That's enough for me in my book."

Grant leaned his head back against the wall. "For you maybe."

"I know you don't believe me, but I know I'm right. There is something out there for us."

He sighed and paused for a moment, nodding slowly. "Maybe you're right. Get some sleep. We'll sort things out in the morning."

Olive slept fitfully that night and rather uncomfortably, though a couple of hours were managed. Upon waking, she checked on Lacey, her coiled form whimpering as she shuddered beneath her jacket. Olive heard a frightful noise from outside, grabbing her pitchfork to check on the noise. A walker was just outside, chewing ferociously on the legs of a swinging body, the body of Grant...

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"Grant!" Olive shouted, awaking with a start. Her entire body heaved a heavy breath as a breeze struck her sweat-ridden flesh. She was chilled to the bone, curling up beneath her blanket once again as she began to sob, her shoulders shivering and her fists holding a white-knuckled grip on the wool cloth around her.

"Olive?" Hershel said from the doorway, entering the room when he noticed she wasn't answering him. "You suffer from nightmares...?" She nodded briefly and he took a seat on the cot nearest her. "Who is Grant?"

Olive's eyes fluttered shut momentarily, tears clouding her vision once she had reopened them. "Grant was my brother," she answered, and Hershel's expression reflected the sadness he felt for her. "He hanged himself by his belt during the night. I found him the next morning - a walker was eating his legs - I had to put it down and then cut him loose..." She paused, her chin quivering. "I buried him before my sister...before she...I couldn't let her see him like that..."

"Your sister was younger than you, I take it." Her silence gave him the answer he had expected. "What happened to her?"

Olive's eyes downcast and twitched slightly, her mind awash with memories.

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"I'm tired, Olive," Lacey said with her head drooped against her sister's shoulder. "I'm so tired of this life." It had been over a week since Grant's suicide and the two of them had been from one place to the next, never ceasing in their bit to find a place to call home. With just the two of them now, Olive couldn't rest properly until she knew that her sister was safe somewhere. In this moment, they had taken refuge beneath a tree for the night, each huddled close to the other for protection and warmth.

"You can't talk like that," Olive said, turning her head slightly to give her sister's temple a soft kiss. "Seriously. We have to be strong now - don't freak out on me now, Lacey, okay? You're the only person I've got now."

Lacey gave a heavy-souled sigh, the kind that made Olive's heart break for her. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm just so tired lately and I don't know why. It's like my heart is what's tired."

"It's because you're giving up. You can't give up, Lacey."

Lacey shifted some, nodding just once. "I'm trying not to, Olive. I'm trying to be more like you - that's all I want now...to be like you."

Olive held her sister's hand as the young girl nodded off against her arm. She tried to stay awake as long as possible, but eventually fell asleep with her knife in one hand and her head against Lacey's.

A fitful night's sleep eventually woke Olive with a start, her eyes wide and completely awakened. The sun was up, the birds were chirping, and no walkers were within sight. A soft smile crossed her lips as she leaned her head back against the tree.

"Another morning, another day of sunshine," Olive said brightly, chuckling at her own sense of cheeriness. "Lacey, we need to get moving soon." She turned her attention to her sister, still beside her as she had been all night. Something was different - something was off. Olive's hand touched her sister's face - like ice. She turned her chin up to look at her - eyes were clamped shut. Her lips were slightly parted and her freckles seemed dimmer than she knew them to be, even in the brightness of the sunlight. "...Lacey? Oh, God."

Olive moved her entire body, arms holding her sister's limp body as it keeled into her arms. She placed her ear to her sister's chest - empty. Two fingers against her neck could not deduce a hearbeat. Lacey was lifeless, Lacey was cold - Lacey was dead.

Her sister's tired form, she realized, was because her body was shutting down. Lacey no longer wanted to live, so her body saw to it. She had fallen asleep and did not wake up.

"Oh, God," Olive said, her chin quivering as she cradled her sister in her arms, rocking back and forth as she sobbed. Her tears dripped from her face and onto Lacey's, creating lines that connected her baby sister's dusty freckles and now-lifeless, pale skin. "Lace...no. I'm sorry, Lacey. I'm so, so sorry." Her broad shoulders heaved a sigh in her infinite pain, her forehead craning down to press against the figure in her arms. "Why did you leave without me?" At this, she wept, ultimate suffering breaking in her voice as she turned her eyes upwards towards the heavens, silently pleading with God for answers, for anything.

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"I'm so sorry." Hershel's voice was beyond sincere, though it was clear that he didn't quite know what to say to that.

"I wish I could've done more for her."

"You can't think that - she gave up."

"But she was my sister, Hershel." Olive shook her head. "I failed her as a sibling. I should've taken better care of her, kept morale high."

"You tried that though and she didn't take to it. It's not your fault."

Her shoulders shrugged beneath the wool blanket. "Doesn't matter now, I guess. She's been gone so long...I still regret so much."

"You can't live with regret like that anymore. This group needs your skills and Daryl needs you entirely more than the rest of us combined." Her sad, brown eyes looked towards his, a kind of pleading look on her wearied features. "You're needed here, Olive, with a head on your shoulders that's proud and lives with no regrets. They can become a burden the longer you let 'em sit. Don't let 'em getcha for too long or you'll give up like Lacey. I don't want to think about how Daryl would react if you were gone." In a few moments of silence, Olive said nothing and Hershel decided to leave her to sleep. "Get some rest. I've got some tending to do to the others."

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A loud bang against the glass behind her head woke Olive instantaneously. She turned to see Maggie against the glass, palms flat against the material and eyes wide.

"Olive! Behind you!" she shouted, and Olive turned in time to see three walkers begin lumbering into the room.

"Shit," Olive said, fumbling to her tingling feet, her legs almost numbed and her hands shaking as she quickly grabbed her pitchfork from its leaned position against the wall.

"Watch it!" Maggie screamed, firing a bullet into the the glass, the shattering noise riling up the walkers in the room. Olive gripped the handle of her weapon, jabbing upwards once and watching as the spokes stuck directly into the walker's head.

"Maggie, go!" Olive said over the wheezing sound of the remaining two walkers, drawing their attention away from the door as she lured them further into the room to clear the doorway for Maggie to get through. "Come at me, fuckers." Her lips stretched into a grin as she kicked one walker away with her boot and threw her pitchfork at it like it was a spear, watching as it pierced the skull with a gushing kind of crunch sound. Her left hand grabbed her scythe blade from her belt loops, spinning around and lashing her arm out with a grunt, the upper-cut motion pushing the blade underneath the softened cranium of the oozing form in front of her, the blood from the wound spilling onto her hands as she struggled to regain her proper breathing measures.

The walker's body fell to the ground with a thud and Olive gazed out of the doorway, the sounds of the gunshots being fired reverberating against the walls for a few moments and then, with the thuds of bodies hitting the floor, silence was as an echo throughout the entire block and the groans and snarls of walkers ceased. Peace.

Olive's vision suddenly grew blackened and fuzzy, her own body feeling as light as a feather as she, like so many of the walkers that had somehow run rampant throughout the block, met the floor with a slump.

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Rick patted his son on the back as the van pulled into the main courtyard. It had taken their group far too long to return to the prison, and once they did, a sight there was to be seen.

Olive's plans for the fence had not only been put to use, but had failed in one entire section. A rather large hoard of walkers had burst through the fences and up into the main courtyard. Rick and Carl, all alone, had taken every single one of them out and now there was a pile of bodies that would need to be cleared away.

"What happened?" Michonne asked as she exited the vehicle.

"Part of the fence gave in," Rick answered, "so we'll have to fix it."

"Where is everyone?" Daryl asked, glancing around as he grabbed his crossbow from the center console of the vehicle.

"Maggie was out here, but help was needed in the quarantine zone. Walkers got in there somehow, so she went in to help them out."

Daryl's head spun and with a quick turn on his heels, he sprinted into the prison. Tyreese was hot on his heels, obviously wanting to check on Sasha. His heart raced as he fluidly made his way to the visitation room. He could see that the glass barrier was broken, bits of it still remained attached to the frame of the window itself, but glass lay strewn across the floor. He could see the bodies of three fallen walkers as he approached, one of them with Olive's pitchfork lodged in his brain. Where was Olive?

He slowed his pace, noticing her legs within sight of the frame, but her upper half wasn't.

"Olive," he said under his breath as he watched Tyreese leap over the window frame and into the zone, taking off on his own to look for Sasha. Daryl quickly darted to her side, picking her torso up and holding her within his arms as he made sure she was breathing. She was. In fact, she was stirring.

Eyelids fluttering open to reveal her wide browns, Olive blinked several times as she moved a hand to her forehead and pressed it to her temple. "Daryl," she said on an exhale, gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling him down to push her forehead against his.

"Y'alright?" he asked, running a hand down the length of her body to check for wounds, bite marks, or general breakages. There were none to be found.

"I'm fine. Took these three out so Maggie could get inside and help them. I fainted, I guess." Her hand cupped his jawline, caressing his cheek with her thumbs as she kept her face close to his. "Did you get what Hershel needed?"

Daryl nodded. "We did. That means you'll be outta here tonight and I can getcha back to our room." A light smile upturned the corners of his lips. "I'm glad yer safe."

Olive sighed a sad kind of sound. "I've missed you."

He nodded gently, moving in to press a gentle kiss to her lips for a moment before pulling back and scooting her with him. He moved them back towards the wall and drew her entire body into his embrace, keeping her as close as humanly possible. "We'll wait here 'til Hershel makes that stuff fer ya and then we'll head out."

"Just hold me until then," she asked, hooking both of her arms around his waist and burying her face in his neck.

"I will. I ain't gon' leave ya ever again."

She smiled sadly, recalling the death of her sister given her similar stance with Daryl at the moment. Her fists balled up in his shirt, pulling him deeper into her clutches as she heaved a sob into his skin, her body releasing the sadness it felt. Daryl kept his grip on her tight, his eyes fluttering closed as he felt the heat of her sadness begin to affect him as well.