Yikes, I am so sorry for being late with this update! I finished my first year of college and just sort of drifted away from writing. I'm sorry for the inconvience to those of you still reading this silly series. But anyways, here's my peace offering. I love you all!

Miss DeVeau,

We've put up for the night in a small filling station just outside of Macon, had to go another route to get through the state line into Georgia just Sergeant Rhoades and myself. There were suspicious vehicles lingering around the highway just south of the Tennessee state line and we feel they are military or an organized group of sorts.

Tomorrow we'll be at the convent, hopefully you'll have found your people by then, but if not I'll be there to personal deliver this letter.

Sort of defeats the purpose in writing to you, I suppose. But I'm beginning to see the merit in keeping records such as this. Historically, these would be good resources for events.

If your people have to leave the safety of your convent, I would highly suggest perhaps they only do so in the case of extreme emergency for their safety.

I hesitate to write this, but I feel entirely responsible for the missing people, my men were supposed to be on patrol, but with winter being on us, I thought we'd be safe from this kind of thing.

Major O'Hara

..-~-..

..-~-..

**Carol**

They seemed to have been driving for hours. She thought when they said safe house, it would be a rambling, run down farmhouse nearby, she didn't think they meant just on the other side of the Florida state line.

But as they passed a sign cheerfully welcoming them to Florida, she realized that they had indeed been travelling for hours.

Beside her the Lieutenant was quiet, but at the sight of the sign, he sat up a little straighter in his spot and cleared his throat.

"You boys mind if we make a stop? My bladder isn't what it used to be." He said.

She bit her bottom lip, wondering what he was cooking up.

Hartnell and Wilkins exchanged a look in the front, before Wilkins pulled the vehicle over.

The Lieutenant stepped out of the SUV, just as Hartnell stepped out, the two men exchanging a look as Hartnell stuck his hand out and prevented Carol from going anywhere.

"I'm sure you can piss on your own," Hartnell said.

The Lieutenant blinked, before smiling. "Of course, I think I can trust you boys with my one true love." He laughed then. "I am, of course, joking. I wouldn't trust my own brother with the love of my life. My heart, she goes where I go."

"She'll be fine with us," Wilkins insisted, still at the wheel.

"You boys sure are bossy," the Lieutenant shot back with a jovial smile, leaning in and kissing Carol on the forehead. "They try anything you kick their teeth out, ange." He whispered to her.

She smiled back at him as he stepped away. "I'll be right here."

Watching him disappear into the woods, she realized he was making one last effort to get away, that the Florida sign had spooked him.

It was admirable, but she didn't think they were getting far. She didn't know if they'd ever get home, but she knew they wouldn't ever stop trying. The two men with her read like rattlesnakes, their eyes were beady and full of venom.

"So where are you all from?" Wilkins asked, finally emerging from the SUV and standing near the hood with his gun. He said this with a hint of a Kentuckian accent, something watered down by a Northern climate. It was cold sounding, not the warm roiling drawl of the Southern gentleman, but something with a flint to it.

"Basile," she explained.

"Basile…?" The man urged.

"Oh, Louisiana," she added.

"You don't sound half as Cajun as your man," Hartnell pointed out.

"I'm not Cajun at all, I grew up here in Georgia."

"So…why just the two of you running around? Don't you know its not safe?" Hartnell taunted a little smugly, shoulder his rifle with a cocky grin.

His accent was pure North, something almost Bostonian maybe, a hint of that cheeky American-Irish lilt, somewhere caught between a sterile scalpel and a well-oiled gun.

"We do alright," she said. "Lafayette keeps us fed and we stick to the backwoods. It's been cozy, just the two of us." That last part had actually been true. Down in that well, she had found his company was pleasant, that when he wasn't joking or teasing, he had insight that bordered on hierophant and prophet.

Thinking of this made her miss Daryl all the more. Daryl was blunt, he would tell it straight, he wouldn't turn words into poetry, he would just declare a dog's ass was a dog's ass and move on.

The Lieutenant seemed more the type to consider the dog's ass, before changing it into a mutt's rump.

She smiled to herself at the thought of this as the man himself emerged from the woods.

"Ooh-ye-yi!" He declared with a grin. "I don't know about you boys, but I think Florida sure has some weird assed vegetation! Pardon my language, angel." He turned to Carol.

She forced a smile for appearances sake.

"Well," the Lieutenant said, turning to the men and smiling broadly at Hartnell as he slipped into the front seat, leaving the younger man frowning. "Let's get moving? I kind of want to meet Mr. President and shake his hand."

At first, as Hartnell sullenly slid into the back with Carol, she didn't understand why the Lieutenant broke up the seating arrangement.

It wasn't until he started up a hearty conversation with Wilkins in the front, laughing and joking and warming the man a little, that she realized they had already started on their escape.

Butter up their captors, get their guard down.

So, taking his lead, she turned to Hartnell and smiled sweetly. "You are so young, how old are you, honey?"

..-~-..

..-~-..

**The Lieutenant**

They finally reached this so-called 'safehouse' just as the sun was sinking in the west.

It was an old motel, one of those campy theme ones just along the highway. The sort, Lafayette knew, with heart shaped tubs and disco-retro mirrors everywhere. Obviously for the sake of checking one's appearance, even while dozing in bed one could look up and find themselves staring down with bleary eyes.

"Mais, nice place," the Lieutenant gushed as they stepped out. "Angel, didn't we set fire to a place like this by accident on our honeymoon?" He teased Carol with a wink, hoping to set her worry at ease.

She returned the playful smile. "I'm not really sure it was an accident."

Sliding an arm around her waist, the Cajun turned to their 'escorts' and said, "we're gonna head to bed then. See you boys in the morning."

"Just hold on, Lieutenant," Wilkins said. "We all share one room, for your safety."

"Well," the Lieutenant took a confused step back. "Our safety?" He glanced down at his muddy gear. "Wha…honey did I join the Marines? What is this chouchoot I'm wearing?"

"Looks like a Marine uniform to me, honey," she returned.

"Oh, that's right, girl, I've been a Marine for seventeen years," he turned and gave Wilkins and large grin. "I should be able to protect myself and my heart from danger." He slapped the man on the shoulder. "Appreciate the offer—"

Hartnell moved in beside Wilkins, both G-men looking stern.

"One room," Wilkins insisted.

The Lieutenant backed down. "Alright, but I'm not sharing the little lady."

As they moved into one of the rooms on the second story, he kept close to Carol, not sure what to expect.

Inside it was dark and he could see supplies stacked up in a corner. This place had been used a few times by these men or others like them, it was perfect, but it was also a strange place for a safehouse.

"Here's a double sleeping bag," Wilkins said. "As a sign of our goodwill."

"Hey, I appreciate it," the Lieutenant said, taking the sleeping bag.

"If you two are hungry we have some cans of rations and bottled water. Can't get you clean until we get to the compound, but we can give you anything else you need. Sorry there's no bed, we needed the storage space."

"Just want to catch some sleep," the Lieutenant said. "We'll take those beans and water, though."

..-~-..

..-~-..

**Carol**

His chivalry was amusing after spending a few days in a well peeing and sleeping practically on top of him, so when they sped through their first real semi-meal in days and crawled into the sleeping bag, his sense of propriety returned as he wriggled back as far from her as he could.

There wasn't anywhere he could go, they still pressed against each other like sardines in a can, so she tapped him on the back and whispered, "roll over."

He did, wriggling and squirming his long, broad shouldered frame in the confined space in order to face her.

Carol took a quick look at the men who had taken up a place as far from them as they could in the motel room, both G-men still awake and holding their weapons, freakishly quiet by the window.

"Can't sleep?" He whispered to her, his face about an inch from hers.

"I have a palette of bottled water jabbing me in the spine, so…no." She picked at the rough edges of his name patch on his jacket and frowned. "Think it's the actual president waiting for us in Florida or just some nutjob like the Governor?"

"Oh, I'm sure it's some nutjob," the Lieutenant whispered. "The real president is either dead or deep, deep under the Pentagon."

"The Pentagon?"

The Lieutenant smiled. "Think he's just hanging out in the White House? Nah, they got him secure and underground is the best place, probably packed with goodies and hell, he probably has Tom Hanks acting out Shakespeare down there for all I know."

"Like a court jester?" She returned.

"Yep."

She chuckled, burying her face against the thin pillow they were given to share.

"Bet he's down under ground, Tom Hanks giving him every damned scene of Forrest Gump while the First Lady plays Jenny." He kept on, causing Carol to slap his shoulder. "Hell, bet the ol' Leader of the Free World is playing Lieutenant Dan."

"Don't make me laugh, we're supposed to be asleep," she warned him.

"Aw, they'd only figure we were fooling around in this bag," he returned.

Carol tsked. "I'm telling Daryl about everything you said to me when we get home."

The Lieutenant winced. "Lord, if I knew you were gonna tattle I wouldn't have looked at your butt when you were on my shoulders."

"You didn't!"

"Well, no," he admitted. "It was too dark in that well. But you should tell Daryl anyways, just to see his face turn purple."

They fell quiet and for a moment Carol thought the Lieutenant had fallen asleep, until he spoke again, soft and low, his baritone rumbling in his chest.

"I'll tell you one thing, we get out of here, I'm going to show them boys just how little we need their protection." He promised.

"They keep treating me like a housewife I might join you on that," she murmured.

Again they fell quiet.

"What do you think they're doing back home?" She asked. "Think they're looking for us? Missing us? Do you think Scout has something to eat without me? I mean, of course they're missing us, but I just…I just feel like the worst mother ever. I didn't think, going out with you that day that we'd be pulled so far from home."

"I'm sure Scout is just fine," he assured her. "She has a whole clan of people to look out for her. And they're all looking out for her. She's a real darling that one."

Carol smiled sadly. It was a touch proud and a small bit tranquil, but it was mostly sad.

"If Scout is a darling, then Five is a little Prince," she returned softly.

The Lieutenant nodded. "Yep. He takes after his mama, real regal that one. I can tell already. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if Grace wasn't feeding them both from her own breasts."

Although she knew he said that to make Carol feel better, the thought that another woman had to feed her own daughter because she wasn't there to do it pained Carol and she fell sombre and quiet, before just shutting down and rolling over.

For a second she thought the Lieutenant would just blindly think she was tired and leave it at that, hoping he was a little numb to her reaction.

Unfortunately for her, she had forgotten he made his bread and butter on being sharp eyed and astute when it came to reading things and that while he played the simple man often, he was actually one of the smarter men in their group, so when he wriggled in close behind her and said, "okay, now I know I said something that itched you there. If you point it out to me I'll be sure to never say it again."

She smiled sadly, refusing to cry. If she cried she would wail and alert the men across the room from them.

"I hope Grace is okay with the idea of it, if she is feeding both babies," Carol said, shoving her mouth against the pillow to catch the sob that tore from her throat. "But it should be me there with my baby."

He wriggled in even closer and whispered, "can I make those tears go away?"

She shook her head.

"What would Daryl do?" He asked.

"I'm fine," she croaked.

"Fine," he returned easily. "Then the Lieutenant would do this," he wrapped her up in his arms tightly and squeezed.

She smiled despite the tears.

"I'm going to get you home to your family or die trying," he promised.

"Me too," she stated, knowing that while he didn't shed tears, while he wasn't crying or sobbing or pondering out loud about the state of his loved ones, he was missing them just as much. More because he was missing them in silence.

The man smiled at her as she rolled onto her back.

"I mean it," she swore. "I will break them if they try to keep us from going home."

"I believe you, ange." He replied, settling in comfortably against her.

She smiled a little. "You stink."

"You too," he whispered. "But I was too polite to say it."

"Are you saying I'm not polite?" She returned lightly.

"That's exactly what I'm saying. Now fais do-do, ange."

And she did, she fell into an uneasy, light sleep that only barely satisfied her body, but did nothing for her mind.

..-~-..

..-~-..

**The Lieutenant**

It was odd.

The further away from that Georgian convent they drove, the more he felt his energy draining.

As they headed deeper into the heart of Florida the next morning, he realized they were putting more distance between him and his girls and that small squirming pistache he called a son.

Carol had broken down the night before in their sleeping bag, he only wondered how long it would take for him to make the realization that they were heading from their safe beds and sturdy home, towards the unknown.

He wondered if this was how it felt to die. To travel away from everything he knew and loved, into an unknown where he would find either paradise or eternal hellfire.

On the outside he kept him mask of simple minded Marine, just one of those regular Jarheads who knew nothing but fighting and domination, not even letting on to the men all his accolades. They didn't need to know he was a crackshot with a rifle or that Double Trouble meant he was skilled in both parachuting and diving. They didn't need to know that while he liked to jokingly call himself a Drill Sergeant, to rile up fellow Marines, he would get his ass handed to him by Marines who didn't know his sense of humour enough to know he was actually a Drill Instructor.

He chuckled to himself as he pondered this. Serious Marines sure got their asses in a bunch when you used terms incorrectly. They were a proud bunch and he always had to step carefully with them, but sometimes he liked to push their buttons a little. Shake up the more serious ones.

It was why, even as a common Devil Dog, he refused the flat top buzzcut a lot of Marines got. He kept his hair short, but never buzzed. It drove others insane and it amused him greatly. Before everything, he had always railed against people who took themselves too seriously, that may have been why it was such a shock that they wanted to promote him the first time.

But he was good, proficient with a rifle, knew how to cross his T's and dot his I's on all the paperwork, he kept himself fit and in control at all times.

Which, brought him back where he was. He had died and hell, he figured, was Florida.

Though, that didn't make sense, because at his side sat an angel, holding his hand and watching the countryside roll by.

Looking at her, he thought of his own girl and sighed a little.

Gracie was more than just some woman in his life, she was, almost from the start, someone who was like that missing puzzle piece in his side. She made him whole, she balanced him and she understood him.

All his joking and smiling bullshit was just that to her.

He figured if Grace could see through his bullshit, then Carol most definitely saw through Daryl's tough guy surface and for some reason that made Carol precious to him.

Daryl was the first person, even before all other men, who he felt was an actual brother, lost at birth, but forged from the same clay as him.

The man was rough and crude, but he was more than just a man. Daryl was, he supposed, like him. He would put on a show, act out a simple, backwoods country boy, but there was more. Daryl knew things, he knew trees and rocks and animals, he could tell a bird just by its call.

Carol, by association, was like an extension of this brother. She was the puzzle piece to Daryl and therefore, Lafayette knew the man wasn't whole without her.

He wasn't lying when he said he would die trying to get her home. He would.

What was his life compared to the happiness of two people who had previously been so miserable and lost?

And they were such good people.

Carol was a real, genuine angel on earth and Daryl was a Prince among men, he had honour and integrity in his heart, he just didn't know he did.

And their little girl, that sweet little baby girl who garbled and cooed up at her Uncle Fay as he had held her, she was going to be one of the most powerful women in the group, even before she was a woman, she would pull people behind her, she would lead, she would forge paths and futures.

He wondered then about Five. Would his son be a leader or a follower? What Annie or Olivia would be like as they aged?

Thinking of Annie and all her night terrors and the screams and tears that forced their way from the small child's body reminded him that he too had something to go home for.

This halted his fight and die urge, it tamped it out like water extinguishing a flame.

No, he had people now who needed him. Grace was pretty as a picture, she didn't need him as much as his girls and son. Grace would have many men in her life if she only asked.

But he wouldn't blindly die now, no. This escape they'd make, Carol and him together, they would need to approach it delicately. Carve it up like a small fish you fried up and they would need to work together to ensure they both made it out.

Carol glanced over at him and smiled sadly.

He leaned his head forward and rested his forehead against hers with a small grin in a gesture he had taken to doing out of polite respect to Daryl. It was less intimate than a hug or a touch, it was almost like a ancient gesture from some long dead race of people.

Now, he only needed to know how to read Carol the way he could read Grace and they would be a force.

..-~-..

..-~-..

..-~-..

Cajun Dialect Reminder

Chouchoot - Thingamajig

Pistache - Peanut

Brazen Hussy -I see some bad juju arisin'...I'm sorry, couldn't help myself.

Yazzy x - Yeah, they are never going to get home. I feel it.

vickih - You read my mind on the cookie thing. Hehe.

RandomMoonshadow - Aw, but being nice is no fun! ^_^

itsi3 - Thank you!

Merle's Right Hand - If I am a tricky minx, it's because you've corrupted me, you sly vixen.

Claire Randall Fraser - Debauchery? Me? NEVER! ^_^

Ciao Bella - You mean the Lt doesn't have a horde of fangirls after him already? The poor man will be devastated to know this...

jaibhagwan - Maybe after a few days of no Daryl she'll snap and take all of them with her...?

Surplus Imagination - Obstacles are the spice of life...or something like that.

daisylou2013 - I fully understand this. A lot of people are somehow disgustintrigued by the idea. That's a word, right?