As y'all know- Everything in this chapter is inspired by real science.

Recap Chapter 5- Zombie 101 - "So far, we now know it reacts two ways when it enters a host's body. If you get infected through airborne, it remains dormant. It requires us to die for the virus to become active and take over. But if you get bitten, we are making a direct contact with an active virus, which means it will actively kill us." There's fervent in the way you speak. You have never seen anything like the Walker virus. As you look around the group, it feels like you were back in the hospital, surrounded by doctors trying to diagnose a new disease.

I still watch you when you're groovin'
As if through water from the bottom of a pool
You're movin' without movin'
And when you move, I'm moved
You are a call to motion
There, all of you a verb in perfect view
Like Jonah on the ocean
When you move, I'm moved

When you move
I'm put to mind of all that I wanna be
When you move
I could never define all that you are to me

So move me, baby
Shake like the bough of a willow tree
You do it naturally
Move me, baby

Movement by Hozier

Chapter 43 - The Journey to Beyond

You lie nestled on Daryl's lap, your eyes half-opened, lost in the fading embers of the small bonfire. The once vibrant flames have now dwindled, casting a gentle, flickering glow that bathes the camp where the group is sprawled out on the ground. The crackling of burning wood blends with the soft snores that reverberate around you, creating a comforting symphony under the starry Virginia night sky.

You reached Richmond, VA just as your supplies ran out. Tomorrow, the group would split, with Rick leading half of them to visit Noah's home, while Daryl would take the rest on a supply run. There was a hopeful excitement among the group, a collective wish for your luck to continue holding.

You sigh softly and close your eyes, feeling the tender glide of Daryl's calloused finger along the contours of your hairline. It's his turn for watch duty, and you decided to keep him company until you fall asleep. However, hours have passed, and even though sleep evades you, there is a profound intimacy in the way he touches your face. Each stroke carries an absent-minded tenderness, an instinctual caress that stirs up a sense of belonging, a feeling of being at home in his arms.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" Daryl's soft whisper breaks through your musings, his touch unhurried as it curves downward, tracing the intricate details of your face. His fingers move with a gentle purpose, softly brushing against your dark brows, and gently traveling down to the bridge of your nose before gliding to the curve of your cheeks.

Slowly, you open your eyes, gazing up at him in the dim glow. His face, dirty yet heartbreakingly beautiful to you, as he continues to trace your features, each touch as tender as a sigh, as delicate as the softest brushstroke on a canvas.

In that moment, there is absolute peace and immense love. Nothing exists except for the soft snores, the dying bonfire, and the mesmerizing dance of his finger against your skin. "I was going to ask you the same thing," you reply, knowing that he has been pondering something, his absentminded touch reveals as much.

"You first," he says, as if buying himself some time to gather his thoughts.

You let out a sigh, your eyes drifting back to the fire once again. "Ever since the outbreak, my father has been on my mind," you confide in Daryl. "I think of him constantly. Sometimes, it feels like he's right beside me, whispering in my ear. Other times, it's like I'm in a dark tunnel, and even though I can't see him, I can feel him holding my hand, guiding me." Every decision you've made since the beginning carries a hint of his essence, and in a way, he has kept you alive.

Shifting to your side, your body turning towards Daryl, you continue, "After the prison... I took a man's life." You confess, your voice filled with a mixture of guilt and vulnerability. "He was trying to hurt me, so I lured him to an empty house and ended up killing him."

"Lured him? Alie, what were ya thinkin' hah? That was a dangerous move. Could've turned out real bad," Daryl scolds you, his eyes reflecting concern and disbelief, as if you had lost your mind.

"I know, I know," you respond, your voice tinged with remorse. "But it felt like I wasn't even myself. It was as if my father had taken control of my body..." You trail off, your brows furrowing as you think of the man, the claimer, you left behind, barely clinging to life.

"Your father is gone, Alie," Daryl whispers gently, his fingers returning to your furrowed brows, softly massaging them. "It ain't nothin but a coping mechanism. We all gotta navigate this messed-up world somehow."

"I know that too…" You nod, moving your head closer on his lap. Pressing your face against his stomach, you slide your arms around his waist. You understand, In the midst of the world falling apart before your very eyes, you had reverted to the part of yourself that you truly know, your innate reaction to it all.

"I attended his funeral, ya know," Daryl's voice brings you back to the present, and you gaze up at him, surprised. "I saw it on the local news... Ain't sure why I went. Maybe a part of me was hopin' to see you there." He pauses, his expression softening. "I did see your moms, though. Didn't wanna upset her further, so I kept my distance."

You look at him, your heart swelling with affection. What a Daryl thing to do. Despite the fact that your father had threatened his life and his family, Daryl still showed up to pay his respects. A bittersweet smile spreads across your lips as you reach for his face, your fingers gently pushing his long hair away from his eyes.

In your mind, you can almost picture it—the funeral of the District Attorney of Georgia. A sea of politicians dressed in black, police officers in uniform, and there, standing far away, leaning against a tree, is Daryl, fingers to his lips, biting on his nails, quietly observing the ceremony from a distance.

"It happened during my first assignment with MSF in Guinea," you begin, sharing one of your regrets. "There was no cell service where I was, so it took weeks for me to find out. I flew back as soon as I heard, but..." You trail off, a hint of sadness in your voice. "After everything that happened between us, and with my father, things were never the same again. And as I grew older, I started to understand him more, which only made me distance myself further." It began with skipping holiday visits, and eventually, you found yourself running away, with only a few sporadic phone calls to stay connected.

"Sometimes, it's easy to forget that our parents are just as human as we are, with their own faults and flaws… If only I had known the world was going to end, I would have made peace..." you reflect, your voice trailing off, heavy with grief and longing for what could have been.

You still vividly remember that day, six years ago, sitting on the back of the truck with the rest of the MSF team after spending a month in the mountains with the indigenous people of Guinea. As you entered the city limits, you recall your international phone started beeping, alerting you to missed calls and voicemails. Casually, you had brought the phone to your ear, and your mother's tearful voice played through the recording, breaking the news. Despite the bumpy gravel road, everything felt still, as if time itself had paused. The person who seemed indestructible, a towering figure, was suddenly gone. And now your mother was out there… probably gone too.

Shaking your head to dispel the current train of thought, "Now, talk, tell me what's been on your mind?" you ask Daryl, hoping to shift the focus away from your own emotions.

Daryl doesn't respond immediately; he simply hums, lost in his own thoughts. You patiently gaze up at him, waiting for him to gather his words. "After I got separated from Beth," he begins, his eyes fixed on you, his gaze soft as if he's reliving that moment. "I found this group of guys, total assholes, but figured it was better to be with 'em than alone, ya know?" He pauses, and there's vulnerability in his voice that prompts you to sit up, giving him your full attention.

"But the whole time, I thought I was goin' crazy. Saw you everywhere... and I knew it ain't real... but..." He trails off, and the weight of his unspoken thoughts hangs heavily in the air. You can sense the turmoil he experienced, and it pains you to imagine what it must have been like for him.

"Then I got to Terminus, and I asked 'bout chu. They said they ain't seen anyone matchin' your description. But later, when I found out what those sickos were doin'... I thought they were lyin'. I thought they might have already..." His voice cracks, and you can see the thought of losing you in such a horrific way had left a profound impact on him.

"And then I thought, I'm gonna die here, be dinner for some fuckers. I had just found ya, only to lose you again, and it felt like the whole world was playin' a sick joke on me," he confesses, his words stirring up a flood of emotions—the nights spent sitting in the ruins of Woodbury, contemplating a future without each other.

Tears well up in your eyes as you reach for him, pulling him close. Your hands find solace in his hair as your head presses against his neck. "I'm alive, and you're alive too. And you found me again," you affirm, your voice breaking with emotion. You hold him in that moment, your fingers gently running through his hair, while your other hand rubs his back in a soothing gesture.

When you gently tug on his hair, coaxing him to look up at you, his eyes meet yours under the flickering firelight. As his gaze takes in your face, you lean in for a kiss, your lips soft as they press against his, your warm breaths mingling together. It's a gentle kiss, and as he takes your bottom lip, pulling you deeper into him, the intensity of your connection grows.

The tender moment between you and Daryl doesn't last long as he pulls back, his eyes briefly glancing towards your sleeping companions. You don't take your eyes off him, unconcerned about who might be watching. As his gaze returns to yours, you notice a lingering moment where something seems to pass over his face, causing a shift in his body language. A hint of nervousness tinges his fidgeting, and your eyebrows furrow as you look behind you to the undisturbed forms of your group, wondering what has suddenly gotten him worked up.

"At Terminus, they were friskin' us and takin' our stuff, but they never bothered checkin' my damn vest," he begins, his hand moving to his chest. The moment stretches as Daryl's hand hesitantly delves into the tiny front pocket of his leather vest, his fingers delicately dancing on the fabric.

Finally, his hand emerges from his pocket, but he keeps it tightly closed, as if protecting something precious within his grasp. His fingers tremble ever so slightly, betraying the weight of his emotions. You hold your breath, your eyes fixated on his hand.

Then, with a nervous motion, Daryl's fingers unfurl, revealing a shimmering ring. "I found it... and I know ya said you don't need no fancy ring to prove nothin', but I wanted to do it right," he whispers, his voice filled with tenderness. You can only stare, your breath caught in your throat, as your eyes feast upon the sight before you. Nestled within his palm is a delicate gold band, its slender curves embracing a luminous oval-shaped moonstone. The stone seems to shimmer with a mesmerizing glow, reflecting the soft light of the burning fire.

"Oh, Daryl, it's beautiful," you whisper, your voice trembling with awe. You reach out, your own fingers shaky as they brush against the soft glow of the rock. "It's a moonstone. How... how did you know about the moon and the sun?" you ask, your eyes still fixated on the ring.

"Hmm, whatcha mean?" he questions, his confusion evident in his tone. You glance up at him, realizing that he has no idea what you are talking about, and this is just coincidence.

You can't contain the giggle of joy that bubbles up within you as you look at the man you've loved for what feels like your entire life. "It's something from the letter I wrote you back in the day... God, I was such a hopeless romantic back then," you explain, your voice filled with mirth.

"I thought ya said you don't remember whatcha wrote?" he questions, raising an eyebrow, and you laugh even louder, waving him off and playfully extending your fingers towards him.

"Never mind that now, hurry up and put it on me!" you exclaim, unable to contain your giddy anticipation. You practically vibrate in your seat, excitement coursing through you. Daryl shakes his head at you, a soft smile playing on his lips, as he takes the ring in his hands. The air around you seems to hold its breath, fully aware of the immense significance of this moment that has been 15 years in the making.

Your gaze traces the contours of the band, your eyes lingering on the small diamonds that adorn each side, as he gently slides the delicate gold band onto your finger. It fits you perfectly, as if it was made specifically for you. As if it had found its rightful place, like it was destined to rest there all along.

An excited "Eeep" escapes you as you lunge at him, and he catches you. A smile spreads across your face as you press your lips to his, almost in a frenzy. You wrap your arms around his neck, your tongues intertwining, and he reciprocates in a stumbling sync, pulling you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair. There is nothing but the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

He hums as his tongue consumes you, and you deepen the kiss, pushing him against the tree he had been leaning on. You've missed kissing him like this, and the taste of him is intoxicating. You feel almost drunk as you slide over him, throwing your legs on each side. After weeks of being apart, this is the first time you're able to touch him in ways you've been craving. Your moans intermingle as your teeth playfully nip at his bottom lip, urging him to pull you even closer. Your hands instinctively reach for the buttons of his pants, unable to contain the desire that courses through you, but he swiftly catches your hand before you can reach your destination.

Breaking the kiss, he looks at you with wide eyes, his gaze shifting towards the sleeping group a few feet away. "Are you out of your damn mind?" he whispers to you, his hand pressing on top of yours, trying to prevent any further movement.

"Whose turn is it for watch next?" you ask, forcefully pushing past his hand. Although you know he could easily stop you, there's a part of him that allows it with a groan, as you cup him. Your movement is slow as you stroke him over his pants, and his body quickly betrays his need as his cock hardens under your touch.

His eyes shift, and you follow his gaze to Abraham. It becomes clear that the ginger is meant to be on watch next.

You tread cautiously, closely following Daryl's silent cues as he discreetly indicates where to step. Your feet navigate the wires gracefully, cleverly rigged as a makeshift alarm system against the walkers. An electrifying sense of excitement courses through your body, making you feel like a teenager sneaking away with a boy rather than just stealing a moment with your husband. With utmost precision, you follow Daryl's directions, aware that any misstep in the darkness could trigger a clinking sound, alerting the entire group to your presence.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you tightly grasp Daryl's fingers, relying on him to guide you through the darkness. The night wraps around you, the absence of light heightening your senses and making you hyperaware of every sound and movement, real or imagined. However, in the presence of Daryl, the person who makes you feel the safest in the world, you feel no fear. Your other hand loosely encircles his waist as you trail closely behind him, venturing deeper into the woods.

With each step, crackling branches and rustling leaves create a rhythmic symphony that blends harmoniously with the gentle chorus of chirping crickets. The moon casts its soft glow, illuminating the scene and adding a delicate touch as you emerge into a small clearing carpeted with lush grass.

You pause only for a moment to appreciate the serene space before pulling Daryl towards you, but in your rush, you trip over a tree root, your back colliding with a large tree. Suppressing a giggle, you press your lips fervently against his, and his tongue meets yours with equal eagerness.

Desperate and hurried, Daryl drops his crossbow, his hands immediately seeking the buttons on your pants. As you hum against his lips, you pull him closer, your chest pressing against his as your arms encircle his neck, deepening the kiss.

Once the buttons are undone, his hand ventures past your pants, a firm finger sliding between your folds and finding its way to where you crave him the most. You moan against his lips as he pins you against the tree.

"Oh, fuck me," you moan, breaking the kiss and muffling the sound, your hand shakingly reaching for the buttons on his shirt. His heavy breaths echo over your neck, adding to the intoxicating atmosphere.

"I'm 'bout to, sweetheart," he murmurs against your skin, his mouth open against your neck.

"Don't be a smartass," you say with a hint of playful annoyance, biting your lip as you hastily remove his shirt and vest, casually tossing them to the ground. As if in response to your comment, two of his fingers circle your clit, already wet with anticipation. You moan, blindly reaching for his hard erection and gripping it through his pants, already imagining how good he will feel inside you very soon.

He presses his lips back to your open mouth, the warmth of his tongue mingling with the gentle nips of his teeth sends your head spinning, as his fingers skillfully danced over your clit. Your knees shake, and your mind focus solely on the man in front of you, and the burning ache in your clit, as he continues to rub and rub and rub…

Pulling his hand back momentarily, he swiftly yanks down your pants and panties. Blindly, you follow his lead, kicking off your cargo pants, your jacket, shirt, and bra in a frenzy. "Sweetheart," he groans, pulling away to take in the sight of your naked form under the moonlight, his breath already labored. "Turn around," he whispers, his eyes filled with desire as his callous fingers move to tease your hard nipple.

You meet his gaze, his blue eyes dark with passion. The moonlight reflects off his dark hair, highlighting the sculpted contours of his throat muscle as he swallows. Every detail you observe only heightens your arousal, making you wetter, as he slowly lowers his pants. You wish you could take this slow, but time is limited, especially with danger at every corner. With a shaky leg, you turn around, leaning forward to support yourself against the tall tree.

"Oh god, Daryl," you cry out as he sweeps one of your feet, spreading your legs further and pulling your ass back, bending you forward. Your core throbs with anticipation as you push your hips backward, offering him more access. Your chest heaves, and your body writhes, your pussy pulsating, as his cock slides against your wet clit.

The sound of Daryl's heavy breaths sends shivers up your spine, and you close your eyes. Your whole-body shivers in anticipation as his cock lightly penetrates you, drowning out all other sounds. The rounded head of his erection teases your entrance before he pulls back, spreading your essence around, and then drives back in.

"You should see yourself, sweetheart," he murmurs, his hands shifting to spread your cheeks, giving him a view of your swollen cunt being impaled by his cock. "You're so fuckin' beautiful."

"I swear to God, Daryl, if you don't fuck—Ah!" In one swift motion, his cock buries itself deep inside you, and words escape you as pleasure consumes your senses.

Abraham chuckles to himself, his voice laced with a hint of mischief, as he watches Daryl and the doctor stealthily slip away into the darkness. "Bow chick a wow wow, bedroom rodeo in the darkness," he mutters under his breath, amused by the scene unfolding before him. He shakes his head, knowing all too well what has prompted the doctor to kick him up from his sleep, commanding that he's on watch next. "Lucky bastard," he remarks with a wry grin.

Leaning forward, he stretches his arm out towards the dwindling fire, and with a careful hand, he stokes the fire, coaxing it to life once more by adding a few more logs. As the flames flicker, Abraham reflects on the significance of the stolen moment he just witnessed. Amidst the ever-present threat of death and despair, these brief instances of connection, and the familiar comfort it brings.

Just as Abraham settles back into his seat, a soft, haunting sound reaches his ears. His head snaps up, his eyes scanning the darkness for any signs of danger. Then, he recognizes the source—Rick, he was having a nightmare.

"Lori…Carl…" Rick mumbles, his face contorting in distress, his body twitching with unease. Abraham watches, concern etched on his face, wondering if his nightmare matches his own. Just as the nightmare reaches its peak, Rick suddenly jolts awake, his eyes wide with a mixture of anguish and relief.

Taking a moment to steady his racing heart, Rick glances around the camp, his eyes searching for reassurance. He finds it in the slumbering forms of his fellow survivors, their peaceful faces a stark contrast to the turmoil he has just experienced. With a deep breath, he rises from his spot, the cool night air brushing against his skin as he steps closer to the RV parked nearby.

Carefully, Rick peeks inside the vehicle through the window, his eyes finding the sight of his children sleeping peacefully. The worry that has gripped him just moments ago eases as he sees their innocent faces. With a sigh, he stretches his body before stepping over the sleeping forms of his group and heading to the woods to relieve his bladder.

Abraham opens his mouth to say something when he notices Rick heading in the same direction as Daryl and the doctor. However, he gets interrupted as he sees Eugene quickly rise to his feet as well. Despite Abraham's lingering resentment towards Eugene for his deceptive claims about the cure, he can't help but chuckle, his whole body shaking with amusement as he wonders how long Eugene has been awake and waiting for his opportunity.

He shakes his head as he witnesses Eugene carefully stepping over the traps set for the walkers and disappearing after Rick, seemingly too scared to venture out alone. "Well, mother of dick, I reckon I'd sell my left nut just to witness the sheer spectacle of their reaction," he muses aloud, knowing exactly what Eugene is trying to watch. Afterall, he and Rosita have been on the receiving side of that peeping on many occasions.

It's the same recurring nightmare, always finding Lori's body in that prison cell, devoured by walkers right after giving birth. Rick shakes his head vigorously, desperate to banish the haunting image from his mind. With a heavy sigh, he walks deeper into the woods, craving a moment of solitude away from the group to relieve himself. Finding a suitable tree, he unzips his pants and begins to relieve his bladder, the sound echoing softly in the quiet surroundings.

Suddenly, a noise catches Rick's attention. It's not the distinct shuffling of the undead; it's something different, something undeniably human—a soft cry. In this post-apocalyptic world, Rick knows that humans can be more dangerous than the dead. Instinctively, he quickly zips up his pants, his hand gripping his hatchet as he cautiously steps deeper into the woods, his senses heightened.

The Moon is bright, casting a gentle glow that illuminates his path as he ventures further into the woods to investigate. He carefully steps over traps, peering through the dense foliage. Rick's eyes widen in shock the moment he catches sight of what's in front of him. It's as if he's stumbled upon a forest goddess having her way with her chosen hunter.

His instinctive reaction is to freeze, his eyes wide as they lock onto the naked form of the doctor. Her hair cascades down her back like a wave, while Daryl had her bent over against a tree with her legs spread, seemingly lost in ecstasy. Rick's gaze involuntarily moves to her bare breasts, which jolt forward in harmony with each thrust, while her wet pussy in full view, as if trying greedily swallow her partner's cock whole.

Flushed with embarrassment, Rick feels as if he has been dunked in cold water. Completely caught off guard, he stumbles backward and inadvertently trips over a hidden wire trap. "No, no, no, no," Rick mumbles, quickly squatting down out of their sight.

He can feel his neck burning hot when he looks down and realizes he's now stuck. He can either move his feet, causing Glenn's trap to jingle and wake everyone, or he can attempt to free himself from the wire slowly, but risk possibly alerting the couple, and come off looking like a pervert peeping at them.

Or he can sit his ass down and let them finish. It's an unorthodox solution, but it would spare him the potential humiliation of being caught and the awkwardness of having to explain himself.

"Oh God," Rick mumbles, bringing his hand to muffle his ears, as the noise of their sex surrounds him. Daryl thrusts forward with a forceful smack, causing a resounding wet sound as his balls make contact with her clit. His fingers dig into her hips as she clenches her teeth, suppressing any audible moans that threatens to escape. "Oh fuck, Daryl, you feel incredible, so unbelievably good," she exclaims, her fingers clutching onto the tree for support.

Even with closed eyes and muffled ears, Rick can see and hear them, his imagination running wild. God, it's been so long since he, himself, had sex.

Eyes closed and mouth hanging open, you feel the wave building once again. The deep and intense pleasure as his cock slides into you repeatedly, continuing the work his fingers had initiated. Your knees shake, the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air, your heartbeat thunders in your chest, and the wet squelches from Daryl's fingers on your clit resonate within you. Your knees give out, and you tumble down, with Daryl following suit.

Now on all fours, your hands grip the grass tightly, as if for dear life. "Daryl, oh god, fuck! I love this! I love your cock!" You're almost delirious, overwhelmed by the intense burn in your clit and the wet friction of his hard length against your inner walls.

"Damn…so tight sweetheart," His voice, a soft groan escaping his throat, fills your mind with vivid images.

"I love you, I fuckin' love you!" you breathe, and hearing your words, he tugs at your hair, wrapping his hand around your long locks to pull your head back, bending you at an angle and pressing your back against his chest. His lips find your neck, his tongue lapping at it.

The thrusts never lose the steady rhythm, while his fingers move down to draw a tight circle around your clit. You writhed, not sure where to push or pull, wanting more and less at the same time. God, you're so close. Lost in a haze of lust, you don't know where to focus.

"D-D-Daryl!" You cry out, your toes curling in the dirt as you feel him dragging across your inner walls. His hot breath caresses your neck, his wet fingers in sync with his cock, and with each upward thrust, he hits a spot that makes your muscles spasm, and your vision almost go blurry. Something else builds tightly within you, an indescribable sensation that threatens to overwhelm you.

"Daryl, I can't..." you moan, as he slams his cock in and out of you with abandon, unable to explain what's happening. "I... Daryl..." You're so close, and he feels so incredibly good. It rises and rises inside you, this wave—no, this avalanche—of pure, hot-white bliss, growing nearer with each time your ass slams against his groin. Leaning back against his chest, you thrust your breasts forward and ride him just as hard.

The scream that had built up inside your chest, accompanying your climax, now bubbles up to your throat, threatening to spill out. As if he's still aware of his surroundings, he moves his hand from your hair to cover your mouth. With your eyes rolled back, you impale yourself over and over again, allowing him to hit every sweet spot within you.

It hits you like whiplash, as the climax whips through you like a thunderstorm. Your scream is muffled by his hand as your body shakes against Daryl, your pussy muscles losing control and causing you to wet yourself right on his fingers. The sound of your pee softly hitting the ground echoes in the surroundings.

Undeterred, Daryl continues to chase his own climax, thrusting into you forcefully, as you feel his seed spill deep inside your pulsating sex, while you ride out the aftershocks of your own peak.

"Daryl," you whimper, completely out of breath, as your soul gradually returns to your body, your back still pressed against his chest. Every inch of your being tingles, and he twitches and spasms inside you, with strings of thick white semen running down your legs.

"Damn, sweetheart, that was wild," Daryl murmurs, dislodging his softening cock, leaving you feeling utterly empty. You're so lightheaded that the world spins around you, and you realize there are tears welling up in your eyes from the overwhelming intensity. Daryl turns your head to the side and presses his lips against yours. You halfheartedly return the kiss, your fingers still tingling.

"You good?" he asks with a chuckle, pulling up his pants while still holding onto you. You hum in response as he retrieves a red rag from his back pocket and wipes you down.

"I don't think I can walk," you mutter, turning your head to look at him sideways. "Could you carry me?" you ask, causing him to laugh.

Abraham's body shakes uncontrollably as he tries to contain his laughter while observing the scene from a distance. Rick's face is flushed with embarrassment as he tightly grips the back of Eugene's shirt collar, dragging him out of the woods. Eugene, with his lanky frame, struggles to keep up, stumbling forward, eyes darting nervously from side to side. Abraham covers his mouth, stealing glances at the doctor and the hunter who recently emerged from the woods, now sprawled on the ground, asleep, thoroughly exhausted and satisfied.

As the scene unfolds, Abraham's ears catch Rick and Eugene's hushed whispers exchanged across the fire. "Ain't nothing wrong with catching a glimpse every now and then when the opportunity presents itself. I, for one, appreciate the female form just as much as you do, considering we were both partaking in that very said 'glimpse' in there," Eugene rapidly attempts to explain himself.

"Ahhh—that was not—it's an invasion of privacy," Rick whispers harshly, his voice stammering as the redness creeps up his neck, highlighting the growing frustration and embarrassment etched on his features.

"Yet, we both enjoyed the view. Perhaps we can consider it a victimless crime that provides both comfort and distraction," Eugene counters, only to have Rick release his shirt and step right into his face.

"Stop, okay? Stop talking. This never happened, you understand," Rick says firmly, jabbing his finger in the other man's face. His voice trails off, punctuated by a plea and a threat for silence, "Never."

Abraham feels tears welling up in his eyes as he tries to hold back his laughter, while Eugene silently nods, staring at Rick like a scared child. Rick never looks towards Abraham as he puts his head down and quickly heads towards the RV that holds his children.

A whole new bout of laughter breaks out as Abraham watches Rick adjust his pants while walking. "I bet he won't be thinking about that nightmare," he thinks to himself.

You are weary, hungry, and thirsty, yet you continue to walk. Today has been a devastating day for the group, and you can't help but feel that your luck was bound to run out sooner or later. Noah's home was long gone, and Tyrese lost his life in the process. Despite expending precious gas to scavenge the local area, you couldn't find anything of value to justify the trip.

As if things couldn't get any worse, another disaster strikes just as you are about fifty miles away from DC. Your gas tank runs dry, and you have to bid farewell to the RV that was once your starting point. A bittersweet wave of emotions washes over you as memories intertwined with those four walls flood your mind. A lump forms in your throat as you think of Charles—the quite nights on watch, the laughter, and with him behind the wheel.

With one last farewell in the form of an air kiss to the place that had served as your mobile sanctuary, you continue on foot. Now, here you walk, the relentless sun beating down upon you, with Walkers persistently trailing not too far behind.

Looking up, you feel Eugene's unblinking gaze like a tangible touch. Raising your eyebrows, you observe him scanning you up and down, his stare lingering at your chest. Uncomfortable, you clear your throat, and he finally meets your eyes. Taking your discomfort as an invitation, he slows his steps to walk alongside you.

"So, do you enjoy video games?" he begins, his fingers fiddling with a coin of some sort. "I, myself, am quite the aficionado when it comes to the realm of video games. The combination of virtual worlds, strategic challenges, and interactive storytelling intrigues me greatly."

"You do realize I'm married, right?" you ask, noticing his eyes obviously peeking at your cleavage again, aware that social cues are not always easy for him.

"Ah, yes, I am well aware of your relationship status," Eugene replies, glancing towards Daryl who walks ahead with his brother, map in hand, searching for potential hunting spots as they have been scavenging ahead. "This here is nothing more than an endeavor to kickstart a friendly dialog."

"MmmHmm," you raise your eyebrow, fully aware that he was trying to hit on you, albeit in his own Eugene way. "Then quit looking at me like that," you firmly tell him.

As your tone of voice draws Daryl's attention, the hunter looks back at you. Eugene immediately drops his gaze, his face falling like that of a kicked puppy. A sigh escapes you, knowing that since you exposed his lie, his two companions aren't speaking to him. You understand that he must be feeling lonely, despite being surrounded by people.

"What's that you've got there?" you ask, attempting to initiate a conversation, as Eugene had suggested, pointing to the coin in his hand. He opens his palm to reveal a half-dollar coin, the large silver coin with JFK's face in the middle.

Seeing the confusion on your face, he elaborates, "With a few more of these, some aluminum foil, and a bit of bleach, you've got yourself a homemade battery."

You bite your lip, memories of your fifth-grade science fair flooding back. "What did you do before the outbreak?" you question, the thought popping into your head.

"Believe it or not, I was quite a renowned academic alchemist in my local area, or at least according to the young adults under thirteen. It seems my expertise in the field was more appreciated by them. So, one could say I served as a substitute chemistry teacher of sorts, catering to their intellectual curiosities," he explains. You burst into laughter at the idea of Eugene as a substitute chemistry teacher. You can imagine him being either incredibly fun or absolutely horrible, with no middle ground.

Your laughter seems to cut through the hunger and the scorching sun, and you can feel Eugene's previous companion's gaze on your back. "I've been meaning to ask you, now that we know Eugene has been lying," Rosita begins with a hint of bite in her tone, directed at the man beside you as she addresses you, "what's your idea for the cure?"

You look back at her, and you realize after all the bullshit they were fed by their so-called 'scientist,' they might want something concrete from you. "I know we keep saying 'cure,' but it's not exactly a cure," you clarify. "We can't cure a virus; we can only treat the symptoms." At your words, you can feel the collective gaze of the group's attention turn toward you.

"And that's the plan," you declare. "A treatment."

"A treatment for Walkers?" Glenn questions, his skepticism evident in his voice. "Seriously?"

"Yes," you respond with confidence. "This virus isn't going away anytime soon, but we can work towards giving ourselves a genuine fighting chance." You recognize that it's a long shot, something that will require significant resources and time to achieve, but who knows what possibilities lie within the confines of DC?

"May I?" you ask, extending your hand towards Eugene, who promptly hands you the coin.

As you come to a stop, the entire group follows suit, their eyes fixed on you as you step into the center. "This virus has two face," you begin, holding up the coin to illustrate your point. "The one I've been referring as dormant is the version of the virus we all carry, something that has no obvious side effects or symptoms." You state, presenting the coin's head with JFK's face on it.

"On the other side, we have what I've been calling active, which is the version of the virus the Walkers have—the side that turns you if you get bitten." you continue, flipping the coin to reveal its tail in your palm.

"The only connection between these two sides of the virus is that the moment we die, it activates, and we turn, regardless of the cause of death." You explain as you contemplate the idea perhaps, the amount of time it takes to turn after death is depending on the individual's immune system strength.

"But what if, when we get bitten, we don't turn?" You propose, locking eyes with the group, who are listening intently. "What if we can somehow flip it back, so to speak, and revert it back to the dormant state?" You flip the coin back to show the head to symbolize the action. "What if it simply becomes a regular bite wound?"

Of course, severe bites can still result in death, but you can sense that the group grasp the concept you're presenting. "You see, viruses are like computer codes in a sense," you explain, catching Glenn's wide-eyed attention. "And just like any code, if you understand it, you can modify it, interfere with the process, or even rewrite it."

"The first step is to understand every component of this virus. Where did it come from? What separates the dormant state from the active one? Why does it activate upon death? We need to resolve these mysteries, and everything that comes with it." you assert, flipping the coin into the air and deftly catching it, before slamming it in your hand, and concealing the result.

"Because if we can truly understand it," you continue with enthusiasm lacing your voice, "then we can develop something like an antiviral agent treatment that can disrupt the process the moment we get bitten. We can flip it back into dormant state." Rather than revealing heads or tails, you simply pass the coin to Eugene.

"But here is the kicker—if we can manage to keep it dormant, then we can likely maintain that dormancy even after death," you explain, a smile of excitement evident in your voice.

"A trump card," Eugene gasps in disbelief, slow smile breaking on his face. "That's a permanent concoction you got there, because if we can keep it dormant even in death, it means we'll be regular, shmegular dead—no more the undead."

"Yep, we just live with the dormant virus, and eventually it will disappear," you affirm, nodding with a bright smile.

"We grab the bull by its nuts! I'm with it!" Abraham exclaims enthusiastically, giving you an excited smile.

"Hooah!" Jamie chimes in with a cheerful laugh, nudging some of the group to join in with their own hooahs.

"Hooah!" you cheer, laughing as you take in the hopeful gleams in the weary faces around you. You glance up at Rick, the man who has been avoiding eye contact all day, finally looking up at you with a smile breaking across his face—a sight you haven't seen since the days at the prison.

Your happiness then turns towards Daryl, who is looking at you with a small smile on his face. Your hand reaches out to him, a moment of shared hope, only to have Jamie's voice cut in.

"Ay yo, is that bottles of water?" Jamie's voice interrupts, drawing everyone's attention. True to his words, there they are—bottles of water, neatly lined up down the road from where you are.

Notes:

What do you think of this cure idea? I want to hear from you guy.

PS: Eugene was a chemistry teacher in the comic book.