Rick and Shane set up the search bright and early, laying out a grid on the map Hershel has lent them. Daryl plans to head deeper into the woods, he backtracked Sophia's path up to a stream but lost her trail.

"I'll follow it," the hunter explains as he traces the stream's trajectory across the map. "See if I can pick the trail back up. They were together at some point, just gotta find wherever they split."

Rick nods. "The rest of us will divide up into groups. We're gonna do this right."

"Hey Rick," Shane starts. "Why don't you pair everyone up, okay? I need to talk to Jenner for a minute."

"Shane—" Rick reaches for his partner, but the cop shakes his head.

"It's cool, man." He assures the other man. "Just need to have a word."

Edwin clenches his fists, his temples pounding. Despite the cool morning air, he feels overheated, his stomach twisted into a tight knot. Still when the cop nods to the side, he reluctantly follows.

"You should stay here at the farm." Shane insists the moment they're out of earshot.

Edwin gapes at him. He struggles to even think what to say. In the end, all he can manage is, "What?"

"I'm serious, man." Shane continues. "Look, we don't like each other, but this ain't personal. If— If it was Sophia still missing, I'd tell Carol the same thing."

Edwin grits his teeth, looking away because if he has to stare at Shane's face, he's going to do something he'll regret. Every time he spots that square jaw, the only thing he can see is Mouse on the ground, a shotgun pointed at her chest.

"The truth is, I don't trust you to have anyone's back." Shane adds. "Maybe someday that'll change, but right now? I don't want you out there."

Without looking at the cop, he nods. "Okay."

He's left on the farm with barely any of their group. Even Carl is gone, insisting on going out with his father. Edwin and the entire farm heard the shouting even though the Grimes' couple tried to keep it quiet by having the fight inside the RV. Otis and Jimmy joined the search as well, leaving those few who stayed back with the Greenes and Patricia for company.

Within an hour of them leaving, Edwin regrets every choice he's made in the last three years. He paces the campsite, driven from the RV by the need to give the grieving Carol privacy. He can't stand the waiting. Every breath feels like it's going to be his last.

"I need to talk to you."

He pauses, turning to face Maggie Greene with a startled look. He tries to agree, but his throat is too tight to make a sound. After a moment, he nods, staring at her feet rather than meeting her eyes.

She leads the way over to the house, waving for him to take a seat on the bench set out on the porch. Rather than join him, she leans against the railing. Edwin feels pinned in place by her gaze, like an insect on a specimen board.

"How could you advocate murdering that man in the well?"

He looks up at her from surprise more than anything else. "What?" It feels like that's all he's managing to say today.

"You heard me," Maggie continues. "You said that there might be a cure, but you told them they should just— put that man down—"

"That wasn't a man," Edwin shakes his head. "That was a walker."

Maggie snorts, folding her arms as she looks away. "I can't believe you of all people could say that." She glares at him as she adds, "You're one of the people who was supposed to be saving them—"

"They're dead," he stands up, glaring at her in return. "And I was trying to save people! I was at the CDC, my wife died trying to save you people from—"

Maggie cringes, her eyes wide. Edwin freezes. He has her by the arms, his hands squeezing too tight. He steps back with a gasp, his heart hammering in his chest.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, sweat dripping down the back of his neck. "I didn't— I—"

He turns away, stumbling down the steps into the yard. Maggie calls out but he can't make out the words. Before she can say anything, he breaks into a run.

He dashes past the RV, ignoring Dale as he calls out and not stopping until he reaches the stables. There, he doubles over, tears running down his cheeks, sweat burning in his eyes. He steps inside for the shade, sinking down against a stall wall and drawing his knees up to his chest. He doesn't want to do this, why the hell is he still here?

"Jenner?"

The voice that calls out to him is hoarse, broken from hours spent sobbing. It's a tone Edwin is intimately familiar with, and right now it can only belong to one person.

"Here," he whispers, meaning to shout. He tries to clear his throat, but all he can do is whine. He shudders, digging his nails into the back of his neck.

"I— I saw you running past the RV," Carol stammers. "Is— Is everything alright?"

"You're asking me that?" He rasps. A laugh bubbles in his throat, subsumed by a sob before it can escape.

Small hands grasp his, firmed with callouses. Carol uncurls his fingers, pulling them away from his skin. She places both hands into her own, then cups his chin, pulling him up to look at her. Her cheeks are red and puffy from crying, her pale blue eyes bloodshot, a perfect mirror of his own.

"Why don't you come back to the RV," she suggests, offering him a fragile smile. "At least it won't smell like manure."

It takes him a long time to stand, but for no reason he can discern, Carol waits. She guides him back to Dale's RV with a hand on his back, while Edwin stumbles over every step. Once inside, she makes him sit at the table and brings them both a cup of water. There's a beautiful white flower sitting there. Edwin isn't sure when it was brought in since he stayed in a cramped tent last night, alone with his tears as he shivered himself to sleep.

"Daryl brought that yesterday," Carol remarks with a sad smile. "He tried to just leave it when he found out my daughter was— had been infected and…" She stops herself, her calm facade cracking into grief.

Guilt twists in Edwin's chest. Sophia wasn't infected. He should— No, he needs to tell them the truth. He shudders, trying to muster the will to speak, but before he can find it Carol continues.

"He told me a story about the Cherokee Indians, and how these flowers grew to comfort mothers who had lost their children, blooming everywhere their tears fell." Carol's small smile is watery, her voice soft. She pauses to wipe fresh tears from the corners of her eyes. "I'm glad he told me."

Edwin stares at the flower, its name finally returning to him. The Cherokee Rose, ironic considering the species is invasive to North America.

"Lori thinks you're dangerous."

"I don't want to hurt anyone," Edwin whispers.

"You don't have to lie to me," Carol asserts. "Everyone knows you hate Shane. I can't blame you."

He closes his eyes, nodding shortly. Hate: is that what he is feeling? He can't tell. He's never hated anyone before, not even that driver who…

"How did you lose Charlotte?"

Edwin flinches.

"I overheard Carl telling Lori that he isn't afraid of you," Carol explains in answer to Edwin's unvoiced question. "That he thinks you lost a child by that name. He told her last night, after my daughter's funeral. He didn't know I was listening."

He squeezes the table, his knuckles white. His teeth are chattering. He feels sick.

"Did you?"

He does not know how long it takes him to nod. That tiny up and down motion, barely even there. His chest is tight, and there's a ringing in his ears.

"How long ago?"

The ringing gets louder. He thinks he hears something behind it, a child's voice, light with delight and wonder.

"Three years," he chokes, tears aching behind his tightly shut eyes. "Three— Three years."

Three years since he kissed her ruddy cheeks, three years since he hoisted her up on his shoulders even though she was starting to get too big. Three years, three years, three years—

"It's never going to stop hurting, will it?"

He shakes his head, his shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs.

That small hand takes his again, squeezing lightly. He grabs back without thought, floundering in the darkness behind his eyelids. If he opens them and he's still here in this RV, Mouse missing, Sophia dead, he's going to scream, and he doesn't know if he'll ever stop.

He can't remember when Carol stands up and wraps him in her arms, can't remember collapsing over the table. By the time he stops crying, his throat is raw.

When Daryl finally emerges from the woods that evening as the last to return and with no Mouse, Carol joins Edwin in the RV. Everyone else eats in the main house, a meal that Lori and Carol prepared for the Greenes to thank them. Even so, she chooses to sit outside with Edwin, staring at his untouched plate pointedly until he forces himself to eat.

"I'll find her tomorrow," Daryl insists when Edwin makes his way to his tent. He doesn't answer, he just curls up in his sleeping bag and cries.

"Shooting lessons?" Edwin demands, his fists clenching as he glares down at Rick.

"It needs to happen," Rick explains. "Everyone should know how to handle—"

Edwin takes a step forward and demands, "That can't wait one day?!"

Rick doesn't get a chance to respond because Edwin is on the ground. There's dirt in his mouth, people shouting. A hand presses down on the back of his neck, and he goes limp despite how hard his heart hammers.

"Shane! Enough!"

It's the fourth day since Mouse went missing, and Rick wants to spend it giving everyone shooting lessons instead of looking. He says there's a housing development not far from where Sophia's trail ended that Shane will check out in the afternoon, and Daryl is going out on his own yet again, but Edwin knows what this really means. Rick has already given up.

Carol and T-Dog help him to his knees. He struggles to breathe, digging his fingers into the dirt. He wants to scream and curse.

"We're going to find her, okay?" Rick insists as he kneels down, eyes wide and genuine. "We just— People need to know how to defend themselves, how to—"

"You should have just left her with me," Edwin gasps. "You should have just left her! You— You said you'd take care of her, and you left her out there!"

He's on his feet, the taste of dirt on his tongue, tears dripping down his cheeks. All he can see is Rick's stricken expression, but it's not enough. Rick has his son, alive and whole. Sophia is in the ground, his baby is three years dead, and Mouse is still missing!

"Just go," he whispers into the silence, his whole body trembling. He turns away, shaking off Carol's hands and stumbling to his tent. He crawls inside, not bothering to brush off the dirt.

Hours pass. Cars rumble away, then return. He itches all over. It doesn't matter.

"Jenner." Maggie's voice is raw from screaming or crying or maybe both. He didn't think she'd ever speak to him again and doesn't blame her for avoiding him.

"Doctor Jenner, I need to talk to you." Her voice cracks halfway through.

He drags himself up and crawls out of the tent, looking up at her from his knees. Deep shadows underlay her bloodshot eyes, her hair mussed as though she's been running her fingers through it.

"Can we…?" She waves a hand away from the little encampment, clearly desiring privacy.

Edwin follows her towards the farmhouse though they stop out in the open. She grips her arms, her expression dazed. She doesn't look at him, instead gazing off towards the barn.

"Did you really work at the CDC?"

"Yes." Edwin doesn't know how he manages to get the word past the knot in his throat. He nods sluggishly. "Yes, I— I did."

"Tell me what you know." Her voice trembles, but she turns to watch him with a steady gaze.

He closes his eyes, unable to meet her own. "It invades the brain like meningitis, and causes the adrenal glands to hemorrhage. Organ shutdown follows, then brain death."

The noise that Maggie makes is one that Edwin is agonizingly familiar with. A whine in the back of her throat, despair personified into a single sound. He shudders, wrapping his arms around himself.

"The resurrection times vary wildly. We had reports of it happening in as little as three minutes. The longest we heard of was eight hours. It restarts the brainstem, gets them up and moving, but nothing remains of the person they were before."

"Oh, God…" Maggie whimpers.

He cringes, digging his fingers into his arms. "I'm sorry."

"Why…" Maggie gasps. "Why would you say there could be a cure?"

He finally looks at her, looks at the devastation written in her face. He feels like he's suffocating, his chest tight and his vision swimming.

"I didn't think you were referring to the walkers." He whispers, guilt and fear tingling up his back. "We're all infected, it doesn't matter how you die. We all turn."

Color drains from her cheeks. Horror shines in her hazel eyes.

"I…" She sways, and at last, the chains holding Edwin break. He reaches for her shoulder, steadying her with a trembling hand.

"I…" She reaches up to grip his hand with bruising force. "I need you to talk to my dad."

"I don't believe that."

The Greene home is pleasantly cool, the windows thrown open to catch a late afternoon breeze. The curtains sway gently, shifting shadows cast across the long dining table that Edwin, Maggie and Hershel sit at. Maggie's father is white-haired but sharp eyed, his expression stern.

Edwin gapes at him. "Excuse me?"

"This is just a disease," Hershel continues, his disapproving gaze turning onto Maggie, "and I think that this discussion is over."

"Daddy, stop!" Maggie pleads, tears visible in her eyes. "Don't do this. Doctor Jenner worked at the CDC—"

"So he claims," Hershel says coolly.

"Glenn told me!" Maggie snaps, her mouth twisting with anger.

"The Asian boy?" Hershel seems no more impressed.

Edwin presses his palms into his forehead. His mouth curves into a smile he doesn't want. It burns, pulling at the corners of his mouth until the muscles ache. A giggle escapes him, then a full on laugh.

"I think you should leave," Hershel states coldly. When Edwin looks up, he can see the same twist of anger on Hershel's face aimed towards him that Maggie has aimed at her father.

"Okay," Edwin hums. He tries to stand, but his feet don't work. They tangle on the edge of his chair, and he falls, catching himself on the table's edge.

"Jenner?" Maggie asks, alarmed.

"I'm fine," he mumbles, his mouth still curved in that unwanted smile.

"Enough," Hershel snaps, glaring at Edwin. "If you had a family—"

The crash of the chair clattering across the room cuts off Hershel's words. Edwin stares at it dully. He can't remember standing up, can't remember throwing it.

"I had to watch my wife die for fourteen hours."

Candace writhing in pain, tears dripping down her cheeks. Candace screaming at him to back away whenever he tried to comfort her. She didn't want him to ruin the scan.

"Then I had to watch her corpse lay there for two hours, one minute, and seven seconds. Then when the virus re-animated her, I shot her. Because she was already dead."

As he leaves the house, he can hear whispered arguing. He can't feel his legs. He staggers back to his tent and sleeps.

It's Carol who drags him out of his tent the next morning. She cajoles him into the RV and washes his face, sighing over him and clucking her tongue at every scrape and scratch. Then she passes him clean clothing and all but demands that he change, 'so she can rinse out those rank rags he's been wearing for nearly a week.'

He emerges from the RV in borrowed clothing from Otis that hangs short above his ankles, and too wide around his waist. As he sinks into a camp chair around the fire, Carl waves at him. He waves back, not missing the twin glares that Shane and Lori shoot him as he does. Andrea passes him a plate, more eggs and slices of canned ham fried in a pan over the campfire flames.

"Um, guys—" Glenn steps into the middle of the group, his voice shaking. Edwin looks up, but aside from Shane, he's the only one.

"So." Glenn swallows hard, scuffing a shoe in the dirt. "The barn is full of walkers."

It explains everything. Edwin stands well in the back as Shane and Rick investigate the barn to confirm Glenn's claims. No one doubts him, but this isn't something they can cut corners on. The rest of the group hovers nearby, their expressions mixtures of disbelief and dread.

"You cannot tell me you're alright with this." Shane growls as he and Rick retreat from the barn doors.

"No, I'm not." Rick agrees hoarsely. "But we're guests here. This isn't our land."

When Shane exclaims in disbelief, for once Edwin finds himself agreeing. He ruins it almost at once of course, saying they should leave, that Mouse is already dead and not worth looking for. Carol bristles at his side, but her hand on his arm stops Edwin from lunging forward. Even Daryl curses Shane out and tells him he doesn't know what he's talking about. While the rest of the group's voices raise, the hunter walks off, hefting his crossbow on his back and disappearing into the woods.

"How can they think those things are alive?" Carol mutters in disgust as she and Edwin head back towards their camp. Rick and Shane can be heard shouting, but Edwin ignores it. He focuses on that picturesque farmhouse and narrows his eyes. His chest tightens, a mixture of understanding and anger bubbling in his throat.

"Jenner?" Carol tries to slow him down, but her fingers slip. She runs to catch up, but Edwin's legs are longer.

He enters the Greene household, his hands clenched into fists. Hershel is eating breakfast, a Bible open before him. Edwin's parents were religious, and they hated him for his scientific bend. Candace's parents were the family he never had growing up, accepting him into their home and making him feel like he had a real family for the first time in his life.

"Whoever you have locked up in there," he hisses, storming over to the elderly man. "They're dead."

He slams his fist onto the table. Carol bursts into the house, and Edwin is vaguely aware of Maggie approaching from the kitchen.

Hershel lifts his head, eyes narrowed with anger. He lifts his napkin to his lips, cleaning them slowly. "You, and the rest of your group, need to be gone by the end of the week."

Edwin seizes the man by the shoulder, wrenching him out of the chair and slamming him into the wall. Carol and Maggie cry out, but he ignores them as he focuses all his fury onto this self-centered delusional old man who thinks he can ignore reality.

"I'm not going anywhere," he grits out, digging his fingers in as hard as he can. "Not until Mouse is in my arms. You can order your man Otis to shoot me, but if you do, I'll fight back. That girl is the only, the only thing that matters to me anymore, and if we find her and she's dead? I'll be gone but it won't make your 'family' in that barn anymore alive than mine."

"Get off him!"

There's a click of a gun, but it isn't Otis, or Shane, or even Rick. Edwin looks up and sees Glenn, Maggie at his side, the young man aiming a shotgun at them. It's not much of a threat when he'd kill Hershel as likely as he'd kill Edwin if he pulled the trigger. Still, Edwin releases him and steps away.

Maggie rushes up to her father, placing herself between them and staring at Edwin with a look that is somehow furious and understanding in the same instant. He doesn't wait for their condemnations; he rushes out of the house ignoring Carol and Glenn as they try to speak, ignoring anyone who tries to say a word as he makes his way past the camp and heads for the edge of the property.

He stops at the treeline, staring off into the brush in silence. Eventually, his legs ache too much to stay standing so he sinks to the ground and wraps his arms around them.

The crunch of footsteps alerts him to someone approaching. He hides his face, wishing they would all just leave him alone. He's so sick and tired of these people who don't mind their own business, who don't listen to reason or reality, who say they'll take responsibility and then fail. He knows that he's no better, but there's no way to avoid himself.

Dale sinks down to the ground beside him, groaning as his joints pop. Edwin turns his head away, breathing in the scent of grass and greenery, focusing on the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

"You know," Dale begins, brushing dirt off his hands as he talks. "That girl is gonna be devastated when she comes back if you aren't here to greet her."

Edwin grinds his teeth, scraping his nails over his jeans. He digs them in, focusing on the pricks of pain instead of how badly he wants to shake the idiot beside him. He's not stupid, he knows that Shane is right. Seventy-two hours before you're looking for a body, and that was before walkers roamed the woods, but the only thing keeping him here is that slim chance. Once he knows for sure, once he holds her body in his arms, he'll take one of the guns and end it like he should have at the CDC.

"I understand where you're coming from," Dale adds gently. "She's all you have, and I can't imagine…" He sighs and shakes his head.

"I lost my wife to cancer, before all of this, but we never had kids." Dale's hand comes down onto Edwin's back, and he flinches. "I'm sorry."

"Please leave," Edwin croaks.

"Okay." Dale pats his back and stands up, pausing long enough to say, "Just know that even though I might not understand, Carol does. And I think even Hershel will once he accepts reality. It's his wife and step-son in that barn, his neighbors and—"

"Leave!" Edwin shouts. Dale retreats, the rustle of his feet fading into the distance. Edwin buries his face into his knees and sobs.

He stays out by the edge of the woods all day, sweat running down his back and drenching his shirt, his skin pinking from the lack of shade. His throat burns, parched with thirst, and his temples throb, but she's been out there all this time with no food or water. He doesn't deserve a drop.

It's the shouting that finally drags his gaze off the forest. Shane is up by the farmhouse handing out guns. Rick is with them and appears to be arguing. Edwin leans against the fence, watching dully as the large group heads for the barn. Without meaning to, he meanders closer, observing with little interest as Jimmy, Otis and Hershel emerge from the woods nearby, leading a pair of walkers on catch poles.

He turns away when Shane shoots the female walker in the chest, wandering back towards their camp. He knows that Dale was right, Mouse wouldn't want him to hurt himself. It doesn't matter what he wants, he needs to take care of his body for her. He's pouring himself a cup of water as gunfire starts to echo across the fields.

In the distance, he sees Dale emerge from the woods. He's running, rifle bouncing against his back. Edwin frowns, lowering his glass and squinting at the man. Something else emerges from the trees a moment later, the slower, irregular gait must be a walker. Edwin darts outside to yell for help, and that's when he finally sees the second form clearly.

It's Daryl. He's carrying something.

Edwin breaks into a run. He tears across the field, sprinting past Dale as he runs harder than he ever has before. Not even the stairs of the CDC compare because the fear he felt then is nothing to the fear he feels now. Daryl is carrying something in his arms, and it's the right size to be—

She lifts her head off his shoulder.

Daryl reaches the fence as Edwin does. She lifts an arm, bright green eyes blinking sluggishly. Her cheeks are gaunt, her lips cracked. Sophia's little doll is clutched tightly in one hand. She reaches out, and Daryl hefts her over the fence, passing Mouse into Edwin's arms.

He falls to his knees, whining in the back of his throat as he hides his face into her greasy curls. "Mousey," he croaks, rocking in place, and crushing her against his chest. "Mousey…"

"I…" Her voice is hoarse, barely more than a creak. "I'm here."

Edwin falls onto his back, wrapped around her and sobbing. As Daryl scrambles over the fence and Dale comes running back towards them, he pets Mouse's tangled curls and kisses her cheek.

END NOTE: And she's back! Took me long enough lmao. As always any and all feedback is welcome, including critique as long as it is politely worded!