Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.

...

"You have to stay there," Hershel said as he rose to his feet, watching as Merle and Michonne made to come across the room towards them. "The both of you, you can't come any closer. We've been at risk of exposure, more so than you."

"He's right," Daryl agreed, looking across at his brother. "You gotta listen to Hershel, man. Don't come any closer," he added as Merle sighed impatiently.

"Is Maggie out there, did you see her?" Glenn asked worriedly, rubbing the heel of his hand across his forehead, streaking his skin with dirt and drying blood.

"Yeah Kim, don't ya worry 'bout yer little woman. She's at the tower with Carl." Merle scowled as he glanced at Michonne, "This is bullshit. Why the hell we gotta stay-"

"It's a precaution," Hershel interrupted. "We've all been in there, in D-block where the outbreak took place. You and Michonne, Maggie and Carl haven't."

"The walkers? We need to get back out there," Michonne said pointedly. "It's going to become a problem if we don't act now."

Rick nodded in agreement as he looked across at them. "Daryl, Glenn, you're with me. Hershel...we'll need to discuss what has to be done, but for now-you and the others, stay put."

"I would advise that Michonne and Merle both wear scarves, wrap them around your mouths, your nose if you're going back out there with Rick. We can't take the risk with either of you."

"The hell?" Merle spat sourly as he glanced across towards Carol. She only nodded in agreement, taking a few steps backwards as she clutched her hands together.

"Let's do this," Rick said as he strode across the cell block floor, stopping and waiting impatiently as the others followed after him.

Carol watched as they left, the sounds of their boots on the cold hard floor echoing momentarily, the sudden squeal and slam of the outer door breaking through the sudden silence.

"So what now?" she asked after a moment, glancing down at her hands and rubbing them on the thigh of her pants. She could still Ryan's blood smudged into the fine lines and plains of her hands, streaked thickly into the skin.

Hershel dragged a chair across the floor and sat down, his hands resting on the tops of his knees. His head was downcast, white brows knitted together. "I haven't seen anything like this," he said quietly, glancing up at her. "This virus? This flu...it's fast and it's aggressive. We'll need to separate everyone that's been in contact. We don't know how this is spread, whether it's airborne or not. We can't take any risks. Judith, Bethy-"

"You're right. The young and the old are more susceptible." She pulled up a chair and sat across from Hershel, leaning her elbows to the table top. "There's the girls too. Lizzie, Mika. The other children." She looked up quickly as Hershel sighed, and frowned at him in concern. "Are you okay?" she asked softly.

He laughed, the sound small and tired as he rubbed absently at his beard then leant his hand to the table top. "I forget how old I am, I just need a moment to rest these weary old bones of mine."

She leaned across to him, placing her hand across his and stroking her fingers briefly across his knuckles, "You have nothing to apologize for," she admonished.

He smiled and rest his other hand across hers, patting the back of her hand. "We have a lot to do, Carol. I'm going to need your help in D-block with Caleb. Some of the...the ones that have survived possibly need amputations. We have to try to make them as comfortable as we can. We need a place for them to move-"

"How about A-block?" she suggested, raising her brows at the quick look he gave her. "It's clear, it was cleaned out a while back when the people from Woodbury first joined us. We can make beds up there, I can get the girls to help. Take their mind off what has happened...with everything, their father," she trailed off weakly, blinking back tears. "We've lost such a lot, Hershel."

"But we haven't lost everything. There's still hope," he said as he let go of her hand and got to his feet.

"I wish I had your faith," she replied.

"Sometimes," Hershel said as he walked slowly across the floor, glancing over his shoulder as she got to her feet and followed after him. "Sometimes faith is the only thing we have left to carry us through."

…

"How did it go out there?" Carol asked as Daryl leaned his back to the wall, his eyes watching and following her guardedly.

"You don't want to know."

She pursed her lips, "I do, and that's why I'm asking," she said as she prodded him in the ribs, smiling as he frowned at her. "Tell me, Pookie."

"Shit, not that. Ain't hearing ya call my brother no dumb assed names," he grunted.

"Do you really think Merle looks like a 'Pookie'?" she asked, raising an eyebrow humorously.

Daryl smirked as he shrugged his shoulders, "Fair point I s'pose. But don't ya go and call me that in front of him. Hell, I wouldn't live that down."

"You still haven't answered me, Daryl," she reminded as she leaned against the wall next to him, nudging her arm against his.

"You're a persistent woman, no-one ever tell ya that?" he said as he narrowed his eyes irritably. "A'right, I'll tell ya. Merle and 'Chonne were right. Fuck, was a lot of them walkers. Rick had a plan to lure them away. Give us a chance to reinforce the fences with wooden struts." Daryl sighed as he glanced away from her, "Rick-hell, he ain't taking it so good. He had to kill them hogs."

"I'm sorry. I know what they meant to him. What all of it meant."

"Yeah," Daryl grimaced. "When we left, he was back at the pig pen with Carl. Saw him give the kid his gun back an all."

Carol looked up at him in surprise, "He did?"

He nodded, "Last I saw, he was burning the whole damn place down. Reckon his farmin' days are ' bout done."

Carol didn't answer. Looking back on it now, it all seemed so far fetched an idea that they could actually make it work at the prison. To be safe and secure, locked away from the outside world, trying to live with the constant threat from the walkers, trying to live off the land. The months that they'd spent on the open road, after the quarry, after Hershel's farm should have reminded them that nothing like that was ever possible. They had all become complacent, and that was a dangerous thing in itself.

And now they'd lost people, good honest to God hard working people, and partly it was because of that damn complacency. She was guilty of it herself, despite trying to teach and guide the children to the dangers that lurked out there. Hiding behind walls had made them all soft, stupid and susceptible.

"Ya know Merle's pissed," Daryl said, breaking into her thoughts. "Rick and Hershel ain't letting him in here. Hell, he's madder than a wet fucking hen. Maggie ain't faring no damn better. She's lost without Glenn."

"It makes sense. We were in here when it happened and they weren't. Merle...is he okay?" she asked, looking at Daryl and chewing her lip worriedly.

"Hell, I'm sorry Carol. I know ya worry 'bout him. But he's fine. Just a big stubborn assed fucker, ya know how he is."

"I hope he doesn't do anything stupid."

Daryl laughed, "Merle wouldn't be Merle if he didn't go and do summat stupid."

"That doesn't exactly make me feel any better," she answered softly. She looked up quickly as Daryl laid his hand on her arm, his dark fringe falling into his eyes, and she wished for a moment that she could see those blue eyes of his, that she could read what he wasn't telling her.

"Ain't asked how it was for you," he said as he removed his hand, his eyes dragging from hers to inspect his fingers. He flexed his hand and dropped it to his waist, digging his thumb into his waistband of his dirt grimed pants.

"We had to do several amputations. I'm worried that they won't make it through the night," she sighed. "And if they don't? Then they are another threat to us. We don't need this happening again. Caleb suggested locking them in their cells and they weren't happy about it. But what can we do? We've made some beds up in A-block...but we can't do any damn thing until the Council agrees to it. No matter what we think...this has to be a joint decision. It's just so...frustrating. We still have dead and they need to be buried-"

Daryl huffed at that, "Merle wanted to burn them. Said it made more sense. But I gotta agree with Rick, they were our own people. We can't do that, burn them up like they meant fucking nothing. That ain't us."

"I agree. I promised the girls that they'd have a place to go and spend time to mourn their father. They need that. Time to process and time to heal, a way to say goodbye. I...we owe Ryan that much at least."

They fell silent for a while and Carol risked a quick peek at him. He was looking tired, hell she knew they all were. She raised her hand and gently brushed the thick hair from his eyes, smoothing and tucking it behind his ear. He stared at her, his eyes blazing with an expression that she found that she couldn't quite read, and she saw his cheeks start to flush a delicate shade of pink.

"Are you okay, Daryl?" she asked softly as she stared back at him.

"Ain't got no choice. I gotta be," he replied.

They almost jumped apart, her hand falling away from him as Sasha rounded the corner, her boots thudding heavily on the concrete, "Come on," she said quickly as she watched them. "Meeting in the library. Glenn and Hershel are there now."

…

"A-block isn't that much of an upgrade," Glenn said as he covered his mouth briefly with his hand, blinking rapidly. Sweat beaded at his brow and trickled down his temple. He sagged in his seat, resting his weight on his arm as he leaned on the wooden table top. "You're wanting to put them in death row? Isn't that kind of ironic?"

"It's clean and it's clear," Daryl shrugged noncommittally.

"It's a good idea," Sasha answered. "We should separate those at risk."

"We also need to separate ourselves from the group. We've all been in contact with those that have been infected," Hershel reminded them. "I need not remind that the young and the old are more vulnerable. Judith and Bethy haven't had any contact and I'd like to keep it that way. Same goes for Carl. I suggest that we move them to the administration levels. As for ourselves, we stay here until they have been moved. Then we can go back to C-block, but not until then."

"What about Merle, Maggie, Michonne. Andrea?" Daryl asked. "Hell, even Zach. Not everyone was there in D when the shit hit the fucking fan. Most of them others were taking watches or coming back from runs."

Hershel sighed, "I'm doubting that they'd want to remain in the towers. Or go back out there."

"Don't forget my brother as well," Sasha said quickly. "He was with us. Bob too."

"We could move to B-block," Carol suggested. "I know it's out of the way, but then at least we wouldn't be exposing ourselves to either group, and we can still keep a watch on A."

"Is it clear?" Sasha asked frowning, "Because the last I heard there were a few problems with walkers back there."

"Wouldn't take so long to clear and barricade it," Daryl answered. "I can do that, I guess maybe Tyreese, Bob and Glenn?"

"You got it," Glenn said quickly.

Daryl glanced around the room, his eyes scrutinizing them. "Then that's it. Unless y'all got a problem with that?"

"What about the children? They were in D," Carol asked. "I could take them with me. They don't have anyone else now." Even as she asked the question, she knew that there was no way she was going to leave them behind. She was all that they had now and it was her duty to care for them as Ryan had asked her to do. And she would do it without question. Her heart ached for them and for their loss, and she hoped...that if it had been a different story and that she had died and Sophia had lived, that there would've been somebody to care and look out for her, to treat her as their own.

"Those children are in good hands," Hershel said softly. "Do as you see right, Carol."

Daryl shifted restlessly in his seat, before pushing his chair away abruptly, the legs squeaking harshly on the wooden flooring. "We still got dead that's gotta be buried."

"If you're going out there," Hershel said as he looked up at him, "Wear a mask. And keep yourselves away from the others."

"Ain't no problem, man," Daryl nodded.

They all glanced up quickly at the sound of coughing coming from outside of the library, and Carol frowned at the sound. She got up quickly and walked to the entrance, peeking her head around the corner. Tyreese was walking with his arm around Karen's shoulder, and the other woman had her hand held to her mouth, her body racked with the abrupt bout of a coughing fit.

Carol stepped out into the corridor, watching them both warily. "Is she alright?" she asked.

"She's good," Tyreese smiled. "Ain't nothing big."

Karen looked at her as she dropped her hand from her mouth, and she smiled. "It's nothing, I'm fine," she reassured.

"Just going to take her back to my cell," Tyreese said, his eyes widening as Hershel stood next to Carol, watching them both intently.

"I wouldn't recommend that," Hershel said. "Judith is there. She can't go back to your cell Tyreese, and neither can you."

Tyreese frowned, "Then where can she go?"

"It's nothing, I'm telling you," Karen stated quickly, glancing from Hershel to Carol.

"The tombs for now, until we get A and B-block sorted," Daryl grunted. "Ain't gonna be s'long, but I need ya to help me Ty, bury the dead."

"Yeah, of course," Tyreese answered. "But hey...this with Karen. She's gonna be alright?"

"Ty, there's nothing wrong with me. It's just a cough," Karen answered, her hand reaching out to touch at his arm that was draped around her shoulders.

"Keep it that way, baby," Tyreese soothed.

"David was coughing too you know," Karen said as she looked at them. "I'm sure it doesn't mean a thing."

Carol watched them both as they walked to the corner of the corridor, their voices low as they spoke softly to each other. She stiffened as she heard Karen's raspy cough echoing back towards them. Daryl nudged her shoulder, but she ignored him- instead she focused on the sound. Karen wasn't going to be alright. And neither was David, and she was damned if she was going to take the risk either. She couldn't let anything happen to the children-to those girls, she'd made a promise and she was going to stand by it. For better or worse, those girls were her girls now and she would look after and defend them as best as she could.

She was a mother again.

"You a'right?" Daryl asked at her side.

She took one last look in Karen and Tyreese's direction, suddenly knowing what it was that she had to do. She looked up at him, smoothing and controlling the conflicting emotions that she didn't want him to see on her face. "Everything will be just okay, Daryl," she smiled.

…

The afternoon light was fading, slowly giving way to early evening as she stood outside at the fences with Mika and Lizzie. There were numerous bodies piled up at the fence lines, the others in the group had been to busy with the task of burying the dead and reinforcing the fences with the thick wooden struts carved from the limbs of the many trees that surrounded the prison at both sides.

The pig pen was still burning, casting a fiery afterglow that burned at the retinas if it was looked on too intently. Carol sighed as she turned from the sight, her hand reaching out and resting on Lizzie's shoulder. The young girl was sobbing, and her heart wrung with the sound.

"He's dead. He's dead and he was special," Lizzie sobbed.

"I'm sorry sweetheart. I really am," she soothed.

Mika shifted restlessly at her side, her eyes wide and never leaving her sister.

"He's gone-"

"I know," she said. "It's okay to feel like this Lizzie. He was your father-"

"No! No, you don't get it," Lizzie cried, her eyes blazing angrily. "They killed him...and he didn't do anything to them. He's gone. Nick-they killed him."

"Nick?" Carol breathed out slowly. Lizzie pushed herself away, stopping as Carol tightened her grip on her shoulder. "This is about...a walker?" she asked in disbelief.

"I told you. You wouldn't understand," Lizzie blurted out.

Carol frowned as she stared past the chain links. She could vaguely make out the walkers body with a nameplate attached to its chest. "Those things...out there? They're dead Lizzie. They are not like you and me. They're walkers, and they will attack and eat you first chance they get. Do you understand?" she said as she tightened her grip on the young girls shoulder, turning her to face her. "Do you understand what I'm saying? Don't you feel sorry for them."

Lizzie sagged, her one hand grasping at the fence, her fingers slipping through and curling around the metal. "He's gone," she sobbed.

"You feel sorry for your father, not those things out there," Carol said softly. "Grieve for your father."

"I...I'm sorry," Lizzie cried out.

Carol let go of her, and gripping the knife in her hand, she knelt in the long grass, grasping a plant by its stem and snipping off a few of its yellow blossoms. "Here," she whispered, tucking the flower behind the young girls ear. She was rewarded by a sudden tearful smile that ached her. "It isn't weak to cry for your father."

Lizzie slipped her hand into hers, and Carol smiled as the girl took the knife from her hand and slipped it back into the small sheath at her waist. They stood a few moments, Lizzie's earnest gaze burning its way into her heart, before the young girl pushed herself away and ran back up the dirt track towards the prison.

Carol sighed as she watched her, turning to Mika. "She's weak-" she started to say.

Mika shook her head earnestly, staring up at her with wide blue eyes. "Lizzie isn't weak. She's messed up, but she isn't weak."

…

She'd spent so much of her time being consumed with the girls and their well being that she hadn't noticed that the afternoon had slipped quickly into nightfall, but as she stared through the barred window at the moonlight, she wondered for what felt like the hundredth time what Merle was doing and where he was now.

She glanced at the bright orb of the moon in the dark sky, its paleness sending slivers of light that shone and touched at the corners of the cell block. She stiffened at the sound of coughing- it felt like it was coming from almost every direction, but she knew that it was nothing more than an illusion of the night. The quietness echoed almost with a sound of its own, marking and muting everything in its wake.

She sighed, not wanting to return back to the emptiness of an unknown unfamiliar cell. B-block seemed so markedly different to their own section of the prison.

She missed him. She missed him with a pang that tugged sharply and painfully at her heart. She missed his coarse gravelly laugh, his abruptness, his sour and rough but gentle manner with her. She longed and ached to feel his strong arms around her, holding her tight and shielding her against the misery that every single night would bring.

None of this was doing her any good. She couldn't dwell on it and him.

The cell was sparse, not unlike her own. Undecorated unlike the majority of the residents of the prison, and she found that it suited her. The reedy yellow light from the oil lamp barely pushed away the dark shadows. She sat on the thin mattress on the bunk, feeling the springs digging into her. Restlessness ate at her, the desire to make things right and the need to nurture and protect battling within herself.

She had to give them all a chance... to do something now, to do something that the others would balk at. It was her duty, she couldn't lose anyone else and she was damned if she would lose her girls, lose Judith, or Carl. And she was without a doubt that she would be damned if she would lose Merle or Daryl either. They were her family, and she loved them both without question.

Rick's words from the previous night drifted back to her, and she clasped her hands tightly in her lap as she remembered. Rick would do anything to protect them-to protect what was his...he'd told her just as much.

"I've had to make decisions, hard choices I'm sure that everyone isn't happy with. But I've had to make them. I'll do what I can to protect this group. You're not stupid Carol. You know exactly what is out there...what we face daily. You have to do what you feel is the right damn thing at the time to protect your own. Your family. The group as a whole. You've been teaching the children, and I know I'm not exactly happy about any of that-but, you're doing what you think- what you feel is the best to survive. To give them a chance. It's what I do."

She swallowed quickly, her resolve hardening. Rick was right. You had to do whatever was in your power to safeguard what was yours.

She got to her feet slowly, her hand reaching out and grasping at the knife at her waist. She curled her fingers around the brass handle, the cool chill of the metal almost soothing the warm burn of her skin. She pushed aside the thin shower curtain that served as the doorway to her temporary cell, and she glanced once more at the faint light of the moon as she made her way quietly towards the tombs.

...

Karen lay sleeping restlessly on the bunk, a thin blanket pushed half way around her waist, one hand dangling off the frame of the bunk, her silver bracelet gleaming in the light of the moon. Carol paused as she stood at the doorway, watching the curly dark haired woman intently.

In the thick still silence, she could hear the other woman's heavy labored breathing, and as she stepped into the cell, she almost lost her courage as she saw the tell-tale streaks of crimson brimming at the corners of her eyes and bloodily at her nostrils.

Karen's breath was gurgling tightly and painfully in her throat, and Carol stepped closer, her eyes softening and dampening with tears of despair. She wished that there was some other way, but even as she thought it, she knew that there wasn't. Time was running out, no matter how cruel or damned unfair it all was.

It was already starting, and she didn't know how much more time Karen had left. The flu...the damn fucking flu was marking its presence heavily on the other woman. Carol found that she couldn't bear to hear the struggle and torture of her labored breathing any longer. This...what she was about to do was an act of mercy.

She knelt by the bed, one hand touching at the mattress in the faint silvery light of the moon. "I'm so sorry Karen," she sobbed quietly as she raised her knife. "I wish there was another way."

…

She was thankful for the foresight that had made her bundle a pile of her clothing, hidden in one of the shower stalls, and as she stepped under the chill water, she felt nausea hit and burn harshly at her throat. She grasped the cool porcelain of the shower cubicle, feeling her way in the semi-darkness to the toilets, and she knelt on the hard unyielding floor, lifting the toilet lid and gasping as she doubled over, waves of panic and nausea clawing its way out of her throat. She vomited- her breath gasping, tears streaming down her cheeks.

It was no surprise to her that she should feel this way. She could still smell the blood and gasoline as it clung to her skin. Her nose still burned with the stench of charred flesh. She doubled over and vomited again, leaning her head to the toilet seat as the waves of nausea passed by. She got to her feet shakily, and groped her way back to the cubicle, lifting her face to the coldness of the water as it finally cleansed her.

She dried herself with one of the harsh sun dried towels, the roughness of it scratching against her skin. She scooped her clothing up, dragging it on and without a second glance, she stepped out of the shower room towards the laundry, the need to scrub the blood from off her clothing burning her in all its guilt.

Finally, she made her way back to her own unfamiliar cell, laying back on the hard thin mattress, feeling the springs dig into her ribs. She closed her eyes, wondering if she would find sleep anytime soon.

A noise outside of the cell made her sit up quickly and she slid off the bunk, grasping her knife. She listened for a moment, swaying slightly in the dark, listening to the slight swoosh of the drape as it was shoved abruptly away, and she stepped forwards quickly, holding the blade in front of her.

"For fuck's sake mouse! That's a second time ya tried to skewer my fuckin' guts with yer goddamn pig sticker."

She sagged, tears prickling behind her eyes. Merle stood in the darkness, his hand reaching out and grasping her around the elbow. "Ain't no way to greet me, ya know?" he stated humorously.

"What the...why the hell are you here?" she bit out, suddenly angry. "You shouldn't...just go Merle. Leave, please. You shouldn't be here."

"An' why the fuck not?" he questioned as he moved closer, the shower curtain slipping from across his shoulder.

"You know damn well why," she said. "Go."

"I ain't going. Don't tell me to, 'cause I ain't gonna listen. I've missed you, mouse."

"Please," she urged, the knife drooping in her hand and falling to the ground in a clatter. "Hershel said-"

"Don't give a shit," he shrugged, moving closer again, his hand tightening on her arm and pulling her nearer to him.

He was so close that she could feel the heat that his body gave off, and as much as she wanted him-she wanted him to go, to leave her. She couldn't risk him being here. "Please," she said weakly. "We...I could be infected-"

Merle let go of her arm, and she stumbled slightly in the dark, stiffening as he caught her chin with his hand. He stepped closer and pressed his lips to hers. "There. Ain't no big deal," he said softly. "Looks like if you're infected...then so am I."

She placed her hand on his chest and pushed him angrily away, tears brimming in her eyes, and he faltered as he took a step backwards. "You stupid...stupid fucking fool of a man," she cried bitterly. "Why the hell would you do that?"

"Why?" he rasped thickly, stepping closer. "'Cause there ain't nothin' on earth that's gonna keep me away from you, darlin'."

...