Author's note: I'm sooooo sorry this took so long! I actually had a good chunk of this done shortly after publishing the previous chapter, but I got incredibly busy. Got a new dog who needed a few vet appointments, was sick on and off for a month, had two different boxing fights to train people for, among other things. Anyway, next chapter definitely shouldn't take so long. Thanks for sticking with me!

Breathing was difficult. The air felt thick and struggled to pass through his airways, much of it stopping short of reaching his lungs. He hadn't cast a Bubble Head charm yet when he'd first reached the cells in the tombs, but he didn't care enough about being able to breathe properly to apply one now. He wasn't even sure it would help anyway. Part of the problem was the smoky smell of charred death permeating through his mouth and nose. A bubble would help with that, sure. The other problem, the bigger problem, was that his own respiratory system wasn't functioning properly. It felt like his lungs were clenching in his chest. All the clean air in the world wouldn't help with that.

Sirius sat there for at least a few minutes. He wasn't really sure how long. He kept his eyes focused on the space between the two bodies, unable to look at either one without being assaulted by an angry mob of images. His legs were on the ground in front of him, his knees bent slightly outward while his hands hung between them, his fingers opening and closing into fists.

His breathing eventually slowed and air began to reach his lungs, his chest aching with the effort of pulling it in. Something in his brain shut off as he kept repeating the facts to himself:

Zach was dead. Ryan was dead. Someone killed them. Zach was dead. Ryan was dead. Someone killed them. Zach was dead. Ryan was dead. Someone killed them.

He forced his brain to accept the information as the truth whether he liked it or not. He needed to quell his emotions so that he could focus on what needed to be done next.

Alerting people to the situation was the top priority. The question was, who first? He thought of Beth, Lizzie, and Mika, but they were loved ones. Aside from the fact that Sirius wanted to make sure none of them saw the remains with their own eyes, he knew he needed to tell someone more objective who could quickly do something about the situation. This was clearly a murder. The killer needed to be found and brought to justice, so that meant informing the people who would see to it that that happened. People on the Council, maybe Rick, who he knew had been the original leader before choosing to step aside. He decided to search for whoever he could find first of Rick or anyone on the Council.

It took him a moment for his body to do what his mind was telling him it needed to, which was to stand up. Part of him just wanted to sit there the rest of the day and not deal with a damn thing. That wasn't who he was, though.

He pushed himself to his feet, his legs feeling wobbly as he walked back inside. When he passed Zach and Ryan's cells, he paused to look inside each one, as if hoping they would pop out from somewhere and say this had all been the worst prank ever conceived. After reassuring himself that the cells were empty, he continued through the tombs, moving in an almost trancelike state, keeping his mind determinedly blank. A thrashing river was being held back by a protective dam inside him. He had to force the dam to hold for as long as he could, knowing the river would inevitably break it down and crash through him eventually.

He found Daryl, Rick, and Carol sitting at a table outside with mostly untouched breakfast in front of them as they had some sort of discussion. Sirius stopped in his tracks a few feet away from the table, realizing he had to speak the words he had been repeating in his head out loud for others to hear. It suddenly seemed like such a monumental task. Before he could utter them, Rick spotted him. "Sirius?"

Daryl and Carol looked his way as well. All three of their faces morphed from vague curiosity to concerned confusion. Rick stood first and strode over to him, his eyes scanning Sirius.

"What's going on?" Rick asked. "And why do you smell like smoke?"

Sirius stared blankly at Rick before shifting his eyes to Daryl and Carol, who were now walking over to him as well. Once all three of them were in front of him, Sirius said, his voice hoarse, "Zach is dead. Ryan is dead. Someone killed them."

The last two words came out as a venomous hiss. The dam began to loosen.

Daryl sat outside with his hand resting over his mouth, his elbow propped up on the table. He'd had a few bites of oatmeal, but couldn't bring himself to eat much more, his appetite abandoned by his anxiety. He hated the idea of wasting food, though, so he occasionally forced another bite into his mouth.

Hershel was in block A with Dr. S., tending to people from D who had started showing signs of sickness overnight. He had been up before dawn this morning, and since Sirius had been as well, Hershel had had him provide a bubble around his head before going. He'd passed Daryl on the way to A and told him he wanted the Council to meet again when he returned.

Glenn and Sasha were still sleeping, so Daryl waited with Rick and Carol, the three of them discussing next steps to take and potential solutions ahead of time.

"I haven't heard anyone else outside of A coughing," Carol said, sounding more tired than optimistic. "That's a good sign, right?"

"Sure, but people could still be running fevers that no one knows about," said Rick.

"Everyone who was known to have it has been quarantined. Everyone else who was exposed has been keeping their distance, us included. There's no reason it should be spreading."

"Bob said a place like this is the perfect environment for a flu to spread," Daryl spoke up, biting at his thumbnail.

"Fear causes stress. Stress weakens the body. We need to make just as sure we're not spreading that as much as the actual illness."

"What d'you wanna do? Put on a puppet show?"

Carol snorted and Rick grinned exasperatedly. Carol then began going over ideas for helping keep morale up while still ensuring everyone kept their distance as needed, a feat that she admitted would be challenging, but helpful.

Then Rick said, "Sirius?" and Daryl turned to see Sirius standing about halfway between the door to the tombs and their table.

A wave of worry instantly reared its head as Daryl observed him. He had never seen Sirius look like this before. Even when the man was angry or troubled about something, there was always still a light in his eyes, which were now oddly blank.

Rick went over to Sirius, and Daryl and Carol belatedly followed. As Daryl got closer to him, the dread inside him deepened. Sirius' eyes were empty as he looked at each of them. He also smelled faintly of smoke, not like the comforting kind emitted by a refreshing campfire, but an acrimonious kind that had destroyed something.

Then Sirius said something Daryl never expected to hear today.

"Zach is dead. Ryan is dead. Someone killed them."

The last two words came out in a whispered anger that was more frightening than if he had yelled them. And then, Daryl saw something shift in Sirius' eyes. There was still no light, but they were no longer empty. Instead, there was a shadow. It reminded Daryl of when Sirius had first told him about escaping the wizard prison, and Daryl had realized just how dangerous Sirius could be.

The three of them were still and silent for a moment before reacting. On one side of Daryl, Carol clasped a hand over her mouth as a pained gasp escaped her lips, her eyes wide as they began to swim with tears. On the other side of him, Rick bent over with his hands on his knees, his face tilting up as he looked at the sky with anguish.

Daryl himself could only stand there as he tried to process the news. This couldn't be happening. Sirius had to be mistaken somehow. He turned around and paced away as frustration mounted at hearing more people were dead, and not even because of the flu or Walkers. He had liked Zach. He'd enjoyed their banter and Zach's lightheartedness. The kid was goofy and a little naïve at times, but he was also brave and loyal. He thought about Beth and having to tell her another one of her boyfriends died. And Ryan…Daryl honestly didn't know him well, but he knew that the two girls Carol was often helping out were his daughters. The idea of having to tell those kids that someone had killed their father left an even more bitter taste in his mouth than having to break the news about Zach to Beth.

And they had been murdered?

Daryl took a deep breath in and out before pacing back over to the others. "You're sure?"

"Yes," Sirius said quietly.

"How…" Rick started, his voice strained as he stood upright and clasped his hands on top of his head. He closed his eyes and exhaled. "How did you…find this out?"

"I'll show you."

The three of them followed Sirius through the tombs, to the cells Zach and Ryan had been staying in. He nodded at the cells and then waved a hand at the floor, both actions unnecessary, as it was clear that two bodies, whether alive and badly injured or dead, had been dragged from the cells and outside.

Sirius led the way out and stood with his back to what he'd found, his head bowed with his hand over his eyes. Daryl felt his mouth drop open as he took in the sight of what was on the ground: two bodies, burnt beyond recognition, still smoking, a couple of empty kerosene containers right by them. Daryl closed his mouth but could still feel his lips trembling, standing there staring at them, unable to look away.

"You found them like this?" Rick asked Sirius.

Sirius brought his head up and his hand down to his jaw, his eyes distant as he nodded. "Lizzie and Mika…" he cleared his throat. "They asked me to bring their dad a card they made for him. I guess he told them not to visit in case he got them sick."

Sirius' voice was quiet in an eerie way, giving Daryl calm-before-the-storm sort of vibes.

"Do we know for sure it's…I mean, I know they came from their cells, but…" Rick waved a hand in the air as he struggled to ask if the bodies were definitely Zach and Ryan's.

"Beth's necklace was with that one." Sirius pointed a shaking finger at one of the bodies. "There was a mostly fried picture of Lizzie with that one." He pointed at the other body.

Rick nodded, visibly shaken. Daryl could see his chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. Carol put her face in her hands for a moment before sliding them down her cheeks and releasing a tremulous sigh, looking off to the side and shaking her head. Daryl realized that this probably meant she was now in charge of taking care of Ryan's daughters, and he felt a pang of sadness for her, knowing how difficult that would be after losing Sophia.

Sirius brought his hands to his sides, turning slowly on the spot to face each of them before stopping. His eyes moved between the three of them for a moment before his arms flapped out in a type of fed up shrug and slapped the sides of his legs. "So…?" he said impatiently. "What's the plan?"

Daryl looked over at Rick, who exchanged wary eye contact with him before focusing on Sirius and asking,"What do you mean?"

Sirius brought his hands up to his head and gripped his hair, growling, before he yelled, "Someone killed these people! Someone set them on fucking fire!"

"I know."

"We need to find out who!" Sirius began pacing around like a trapped animal. He kicked one of the empty gas containers and sent it tumbling just past Carol's leg. She jumped away in fearful surprise.

Rick stepped in front of Sirius, his hands held up in a placating gesture. "We will. Of course we will. We just need to take a minute to calm down and look at what information we have."

Sirius stepped closer into Rick's space, his eyes blazing in a dark way that Daryl had never seen. Daryl tentatively took a step toward the two of them, ready to interfere if needed. "Do NOT tell me to calm down when two people that my godson went through hell to save have been murdered! Do you have any idea the toll this is going to take on him? Not to mention Beth and those little girls? HOW DARE YOU?"

Rick opened his mouth to speak again, taking half a step back, while Daryl approached Sirius from behind and tried to put a hand on his arm, both to calm and to warn. Sirius flung Daryl's hand off of him.

"Look," Rick said softly, clearly still trying to diffuse the situation, "I've been there. I know how you feel. We'll get Harry and the other kids through this. I promise."

"YOU'RE ACTING LIKE THIS IS JUST ANOTHER DAY!" Sirius roared.

Daryl could only see this escalating if he let Rick handle it himself. He took hold of Sirius' arm firmly this time and started to say, "We ain't—"

Sirius pivoted to face him and punched Daryl in the jaw, knocking him a few steps backward. Daryl shook it off and started to feel his own temper rising.

Okay…he wants to fight it out? He's got it.

Daryl strode up to Sirius to throw one of his own punches, but Sirius bent over with his head down and charged, yelling and tackling Daryl to the ground, straddling him. Daryl felt some wind get knocked out of him, but it was nothing he hadn't experienced before. Before Sirius could throw another punch, Daryl swung his head up to headbutt him, making Sirius' head snap back. Then, taking advantage of Sirius' slackened weight, Daryl flung him sideways and rolled him so that Sirius was now the one on the ground. Daryl was vaguely aware of hearing Rick and Carol yelling, both hovering nearby, but Daryl knew this needed to be done. He recognized that Sirius needed to release what was inside him in a physical, violent way. It was something Daryl understood, and since he could take it, he was fine with letting his friend use him as an outlet for his anger.

But if Sirius wanted violence, he was getting violence in return.

Now on top of Sirius, Daryl threw a punch at his nose, then another, then another. He felt Rick's hand on his shoulder but shrugged it off. Sirius' nose was bleeding, both from the nostrils and a cut on the bridge, but he still glared up at Daryl, breathing hard.

"You done?!" Daryl spat, holding his fist above Sirius.

Sirius kept glaring at Daryl for another minute before growling, "No," and throwing a left hook to Daryl's ear, the same side with the hand Daryl had ready to strike over Sirius instead of holding his arm down. Daryl fell sideways off of Sirius, pain and a vibration moving through his eardrum. He and Sirius both scrambled to their feet at the same time, both of them panting and staring daggers at each other. After a moment, Sirius' shoulders relaxed and he sneered, "Now I'm done."

Daryl scoffed but threw him a curt nod of acknowledgement. He watched as Sirius released a sigh among his accelerated breathing and looked back at the bodies. He could see Sirius' jaw clench before the man turned and stormed back inside.

Daryl took a few steps backward while Rick and Carol stood with their mouths open, lost for words. He slid down against the wall, sitting there with his head leaning against the brick as he caught his breath. Pain radiated through his head, but it was somewhat welcomed. After all, it distracted him from the pain that came with being informed of the bodies that lie just a few feet away.

He couldn't stop staring at them.

Harry woke with a groan, not sure if it was about time for him to be getting out of bed or not, as he had woken up several times throughout the night and early morning. Unsurprisingly, he had nightmares involving the attack yesterday. In the worst one, Harry arrived to block D, only to find there was no one alive to save, bodies covering the floor to the point where it was almost no longer visible. He slowly entered the block, wand at the ready, when a pain in his scar hit him like an anvil, making him bend over to clutch his head, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut. Then, eyes still closed, he heard a voice, cold and taunting, that he would recognize under any circumstances.

"You're too late, Harry…"

He opened his eyes and straightened up, still holding a hand up to his scar. He heard the sound of slow footsteps clanking against a metal floor and looked up to see Voldemort on the balcony, moving toward the stairs. He was flanked by Walkers, which seemed to have no interest in attacking him. His lip curled triumphantly as he descended the stairs.

"You're a fool, Harry Potter," said Voldemort. "And you will lose…everything."

At that point, Harry had woken up yelling, flinging his bedsheets as he thrashed and sat up, trying to gain his bearings. Sirius had rushed to his bedside, saying his name multiple times and trying carefully to reach out to Harry. Harry still believed himself to be dreaming and scrabbled to find his wand beneath his pillow, but a hand gently pressed itself on top of his wrist while another wrapped around the back of his head, holding it still so that Harry was forced to look right in front of him.

Even in the dark, he could tell it was Sirius who was standing over him.

"It's all right," Sirius had said in a rough sort of sadness, sitting on the edge of Harry's bed. "You're safe. You're all right."

Fear was still coursing through Harry despite Sirius' words. He was ashamed to feel tears prickling his eyes, scolding himself for being so damn emotional the last two days. He was stronger than this.

But he couldn't deny to himself that he was scared, not for himself, but for everyone else, both here and in his own world, where he still had no idea if there had been any casualties at the Ministry. Harry sat there silently, focusing on his breathing, and let Sirius gently pull his head to lean on his shoulder.

Sirius had also had nightmares. He made a lot of distressed noises in his sleep, even talking sometimes. It made Harry wonder if he had been speaking in his sleep as well, and he worried over what he could have said.

At one point, Sirius had woken Harry with an abrupt and muffled yell. Harry had sat up so that he was leaning on his forearm, waiting to see if anything followed the yell. There was a groan, and then shortly after, Sirius had mumbled, "Me, not Harry. I deserve it, I deserve it." The last few words had come out in a higher pitched whine Harry had never heard from Sirius before, one that sounded desperate and sad. Harry had gotten out of bed and stood over Sirius' bed, reaching out a hand hesitantly. He slowly lowered it to Sirius' shoulder and shook it, saying his name.

Sirius had sat up, swatting Harry's hand away, looking around frantically. When he saw Harry, he sighed and muttered, "Go back to bed."

Harry had tried to argue. "But, Sirius, you—"

"Go back to bed," Sirius snapped.

Harry had quietly obeyed.

As the night went on, Harry had had more dreams, but they had been vague and fuzzy, way less intense. If anything, they were weirder and more random. He also kept finding himself physically uncomfortable every time he woke. He felt hot, his shirt sticking to his back, but when he threw all the sheets off of him, he was cold and shivered. His head felt fuzzy and his joints were aching. Closer to morning, his throat started to feel scratchy and rough.

When he woke up this time, he wasn't any better. He still felt tired, but his discomfort also kept pulling him from sleep. He felt even warmer than before even though he had kicked the sheets to the end of the bed and eventually removed his shirt. Yet, somehow, he was also still getting chills. He looked around to see that Sirius wasn't in bed and light was coming through the cell door, so it was definitely at least morning. He started to sit up all the way and found himself a little dizzy, spots appearing in front of his eyes. He gave them a moment to clear and then stood, his legs feeling weak, another mild rush of dizziness hitting him. Breathing felt like it was taking more of an effort than it should be.

He felt phlegm in his throat and tried to clear it, but the action only irritated his throat more, tickling it and forcing him to cough.

He leaned against the bedframe for a bit as he woke more fully and his thoughts became sharper. And then it dawned on him with a sinking comprehension.

He had it.

Sirius made his way through the prison, a sense of dread and anxiety still in his stomach, his head aching, but now he had a tired calmness to him that left him mentally clearer, as backwards as that sounded. He felt bad for hitting Daryl and for yelling at Rick, knowing they were as powerless as he was regarding the double murder of Zach and Ryan. He knew it wasn't something they would take lightly. In the moment, though, it had felt that way, and the rage Sirius had already been containing after first discovering the bodies had found targets. The dam had broken inside of him and everything had come spilling out, drowning him and attempting to take the people around him along.

He would apologize to them later. As always, Harry was his first priority, and he needed to let him know what happened, as much as he wished he could keep the information from him. Harry would find out one way or another, and it was best if it came from Sirius.

He felt horrible, knowing how devastating this would be for Harry. Zach was his friend, and someone Harry had struggled to save just a couple days ago. Harry had berated himself for freezing in the moment and almost allowing Zach to die, even though he did still save him and the delay in action wasn't his fault. If Zach had actually died in the Big Spot, Sirius knew Harry would have been a wreck over it. Additionally, Sirius himself liked and respected Zach. He had honor, and he was kind to everyone. He also remembered what Beth had said about not saying goodbye to him before the last run. "I wanted to focus on us living instead of him possibly dying. It felt like if I said goodbye, the universe would, like, see that as a reason to confirm my fears or something."

Now the poor girl's fears had been confirmed. It wasn't fair that she should have to brace herself for something like this.

As for Ryan, Sirius really didn't know him well, having only spoken to him here or there very briefly. He had been around Lizzie and Mika a fair bit, though. Mika was as sweet as could be and smart as a whip. Sirius could only imagine the great things she could have grown up to accomplish before her world went to shit. And Lizzie…well, Lizzie was strange, but Sirius was pretty certain there was something wrong with her brain and how it was wired, something beyond her help. In general, she was kind and determined. There was an eagerness to help and protect others in her. It just wasn't always in the most conventional ways. Regardless, Ryan was the only family they'd had left. They were now orphans, like Harry, except they didn't have a godfather. He knew Carol went out of her way for them a lot, but she also seemed to keep them at somewhat of a distance emotionally. He wasn't sure if she was the type of person to be a parent.

And Harry had just saved Ryan yesterday, during the Walker attack. Sure, he had gotten sick, but there was no reason to think he couldn't or wouldn't recover now that everyone knew what was going on. Sirius knew that Harry already felt like he hadn't done enough because other people had still died. It would be like a slap to the face to learn that someone decided to discount his efforts only to take the lives of those Harry had struggled to save one and two days later.

The thought made Sirius angry again and he found himself clenching his fists, the knuckles of which were mildly bruised. Sirius had always resented how unfair life had been to Harry and was getting fed up with how the shit only seemed to keep piling on the kid. And it wasn't like he was some kind of horrible person who deserved it. If anything, he was a good, brave, and selfless person in spite of it.

That kind of thing could only last so long, though, Sirius knew. Everyone had their limits, and he worried about the day that Harry would eventually reach his.

He stopped in the bathroom first to clean up his face, turning his head at different angles in the mirror to make sure he'd gotten everything he could. There was a cut on the bridge of his nose, a bruise above his lip, and a shiner had bloomed beneath one eye. He managed to make the bruises disappear with magic and at least close the cut on his nose, leaving only a faint line. Once he had all the blood cleaned off too, he looked pretty normal. The last thing Harry needed to worry about was his hot-tempered godfather getting his face beat in.

Once satisfied with his appearance, Sirius headed to his cell to see Harry, mentally preparing himself for the conversation he was about to have and the best way to go about it all. He had expected to find Harry sitting in bed, dressed and reading or doodling or going over the notes he made from the lessons Sirius had given him. It surprised him to see that his godson was still lying down, shirtless and the sheets crumpled at his feet, but his arms wrapped around himself while his shoulders shivered. Frowning, Sirius stepped closer to get a better look at him, crouching next to his bed.

Harry's eyes were closed and he seemed to be asleep. His face and torso shined with sweat, several beaded spots of it collecting under the fringe of his hair. He had always been a pale kid, but since being here, his skin had tanned after burning. It was now pale again, perhaps even more so than it usually was back home. Sirius brought a hand to Harry's forehead to find it was quite hot. His cheeks and neck felt the same.

Sirius stood upright again, his hand coming up to his jaw absentmindedly as he exhaled, looking down at his godson with contained worry, his mind racing.

Harry twitched and then his eyes fluttered open, moving around before landing on Sirius. "Hey," he mumbled, his voice coming out as a dry croak. He began to sit up. Sirius was about to urge him to lie back down, but Harry was already upright. He leaned against the wall and started coughing. He shivered some more and grabbed one of the sheets, pulling it up and wrapping it behind him around his shoulders. Sirius dropped to one knee to be more at level with him, and his godson cast him a weak smile, which then morphed into a frown.

"I was thinking about—" he coughed. "That today would be a good day to take up rock climbing. What do you think?"

Sirius huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head in fond exasperation. "I reckon you'd be great at it."

Harry closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the wall, but grinned. "Course I would."

Sirius tried to smile at him, but he could feel how tight it was. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Listen…we need to talk."

"I know, I've got to go to quarantine. Actually, can you give yourself a bubble while you're so close to me?"

Sirius wanted to argue that it was probably a little late to prevent him from catching Harry's flu since they had hugged and shared close quarters in the last twenty-four hours, but he wanted to minimize his godson's stress as much as possible and didn't want him wasting energy on arguing over something so trivial. "Of course." Sirius pointed his wand at himself and cast the charm.

"Thanks."

Sirius nodded absently, rethinking telling Harry about Zach and Ryan. For one, he didn't like the idea of telling him about it and then sending him off to stay isolated without Sirius there for comfort. For another, he didn't want Harry to worry that someone was going to off him next. There was no way that was going to happen. If Dr. S. and Hershel wouldn't let Sirius into block A, Sirius would stay guard outside of it all day and night to make sure no one went after Harry. Besides, maybe in quarantine, Harry wouldn't know what was happening in the rest of the prison. Maybe Sirius could keep the news from him until he was feeling better and released.

On the other hand, Sirius was sure word would get to Harry somehow. He had an idea Hershel wouldn't tell Harry, but people were still able to go up to the window of block A to visit and talk through there. Or people who were admitted after Harry would say something. Someone else was bound to spill the beans. As much as Sirius thought it would be better for the knowledge to be postponed for Harry, he knew how much he'd be breaking the kid's trust if he found out through someone besides him.

"We'll get you to Hershel and Dr. S.," Sirius said gently. "I…I have to tell you something else, though."

Harry lifted his head away from the wall, looking at Sirius searchingly, his features already worried. "Did someone else die?"

Sirius paused, then tipped his head forward once in a nod.

Harry exhaled through his nose, bringing his fingers up to massage his temples. "Who? Give—" he coughed some more. "Give it to me straight."

"All right," Sirius replied. "It, uh…it's Ryan and…and Zach."

Harry only stared at him for a bit, to a point where Sirius eventually wondered if he'd somehow frozen in shock. But eventually, Harry turned his head to the side and bitterly muttered, "Of course."

"I'm so sorry, Harry."

Harry's eyes looked up toward the ceiling in what Sirius could tell was an attempt to contain his emotions. He looked back at Sirius after a moment, frowning in confusion. "Both of them? I don't understand…Zach didn't even seem too bad last night."

"That's because, uh…" Sirius looked down at the floor and released a breath before looking back up at Harry, trying to keep his own features devoid of emotion so that he could focus on being there for him. It was difficult when the anger started to stir inside him again. He forced it back down. "Someone…someone killed them."

Harry blinked at him for a moment before his face contorted with rage. He leaned forward, away from the wall. "What?"

"While they were sleeping, I think. They killed them in their cells and then…burned their bodies outside."

Harry then leapt to his feet with surprising speed, drawing his wand, his face full of fury, but then his eyes fluttered slightly and he leaned his hand against the wall. Sirius rose, reaching his hands to Harry's arms to try to pull him back down to the bed, but Harry swiped his hands away, his eyes regaining focus and blazing.

"They were sick!" Harry said indignantly. "Why would someone—" he coughed. "Why would someone do that?"

"I'm guessing…because they wanted to try to stop the illness from spreading. It's the only thing that makes any kind of sense."

"Zach and Ryan were already quarantined!" Harry exclaimed, his volume rising. "They didn't even get a chance to get better!"

"I know," Sirius responded quietly.

Harry growled in frustration and pushed himself away from the wall, pacing the cell before stopping at the small stack of items at the other end of his bed. He picked up a book and threw it across the cell. When that apparently wasn't enough, he grabbed a flashlight and hurled that, the batteries bursting out as it bounced off the wall. Then he flung a coffee mug, breaking it into pieces that shattered all over the floor.

Harry's knees buckled and he staggered sideways to lean against his bedframe again, breathing hard, a short, quiet moan escaping from him as he hung his head and leaned it against the frame as well, closing his eyes. Sirius stood there silently, feeling helpless. He wanted to move closer to him, comfort him somehow, but he had the sense that Harry wanted space at the moment. They both remained quiet for a bit before Harry lifted his head away from the bedframe and looked at Sirius, his eyes shining with grief and outrage.

"You need to find who did this," he said breathlessly, his voice trembling slightly. He coughed some more.

Sirius nodded, hoping his determination was apparent. "I will. You let me worry about that. You just worry about getting better, all right?"

Harry held his gaze briefly before nodding. He grabbed a couple changes of clothes, cast a Bubble Head charm on himself, and moved toward the cell door.

"Let' go."

And so Sirius escorted his godson to quarantine.

Daryl was on his way to the Council meeting with Carol when Sirius called his name from behind. Carol exchanged a nervous glance with him, but he gave her a nod and muttered, "I got it."

Carol nodded back and continued on her way without him. Daryl stood where he was as Sirius approached him. He was surprised to see that the man's face was entirely clean other than a faint line where the bridge of his nose had been cut. Daryl resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Goddamn magic. He didn't bear any marks from the fight himself, though his head throbbed from taking shots to both the jaw and the side of his head, as well as headbutting Sirius. The knuckles of his right hand were also sore, making it more difficult to move his fingers. Nevertheless, Daryl honestly wasn't angry over it. He just waited for Sirius to speak.

"I'm…" Sirius visibly clenched his jaw and breathed out through his nose, clearly annoyed. "I'm…sorry. I was…out of line." Despite how much it sounded like apologizing was the last thing Sirius wanted to do, Daryl could see the sincerity in his eyes. He knew Sirius was a prideful man, unlikely to admit to being wrong to anyone other than Harry, so Daryl also knew that if he was making the effort to apologize, it meant something.

Daryl shook his head dismissively. "We're on the same side, man. It's all right."

Sirius nodded and released a breath. Daryl beckoned for him to follow him.

"Harry's got it," Sirius said quietly after a moment of walking. Daryl stopped in his tracks to look at him, taken aback, though he knew he shouldn't be surprised after how exposed Harry had been to Patrick. "I brought him to A. Sasha's got it too. She got there just ahead of us."

Daryl didn't know what to say. Last he knew, Sasha had still been sleeping. She and Harry were both strong. Now they were sick too, and there was still a killer among their people that had yet to be identified. Things were getting worse, not that he was about to say so out loud. He thought about what Carol had said about keeping morale up this morning, choosing to ignore the fact that she'd said it before knowing that Zach and Ryan had been killed. "He's gonna be okay. He's a tough kid."

Sirius didn't say anything. He continued walking, Daryl going with him.

The two of them were gathered for the meeting at the table with Carol, Glenn, and Hershel. Daryl couldn't help drumming his fingers restlessly on top of the table. He only hoped Hershel had some ideas, some solutions.

"It's spread," Hershel declared grimly. "Everyone who survived the attack in cell block D, Sasha, Harry, Caleb, and now others."

"Dr. S. too?" said Daryl. "Jesus…"

"So what do we do?" Carol asked, always ready to take action.

"First thing's first," Hershel continued. "Cell block A is isolation. We keep the sick people there like we tried with Ryan and Zach."

"What the hell we gonna do about that?" Daryl inquired as Sirius sat up straighter across from him, his hands flexing on the table.

"Ask Rick to look into it, try to make a timeline of who was where, and when," said Carol. "But what are we gonna do to stop this?"

"There is no stopping it," said Hershel. "You get it, you have to go through it."

"So anyone who gets it is just going to die?" Sirius said testily.

"The illness doesn't kill you. The symptoms do. We need antibiotics."

Daryl frowned. "We've been through every pharmacy nearby, and then some."

"That veterinary college at West Peachtree Tech, that's one place people may not have thought to raid for medication. The drugs for animals there are the same we need."

That gave Daryl a burst of hope. He thought through his options, nodding to himself as he found there was something to work with. "That's fifty miles. Too big of a risk before. Ain't now. I'm gonna take a group out." He stood right away. "Best not waste anymore time."

Hershel also stood. "I can lead the way. I know where everything's kept."

Daryl glanced around awkwardly, knowing Hershel wouldn't be able to keep up with his fake leg if things went south. He tried to think of a delicate way to say so to him, as he had nothing but respect for the man. "When we're out there, it's always the same…sooner or later, we run."

"I can…draw you a map," Hershel amended slightly sheepishly.

Daryl nodded, watching as Sirius' eyes darted back and forth thoughtfully before he stood as well. "I'm with you, but only if someone can promise to watch out for Harry, make sure whoever killed Zach and Ryan doesn't get to him too."

"Sasha and Caleb are in there. I have no doubts you can count on them."

"And if whoever killed Zach and Ryan did it to try to stop the spread, there's no point in them going after anyone else, now that so many others have it," Carol said. "I can still make sure to check on him regularly, though."

Sirius held her gaze before nodding. "Okay…I want to get these meds, get Harry and everyone else better, but there's no point in doing that if someone's just going to kill them before I return."

"I'll keep a sharp eye out. I promise."

"Then I'm in," Sirius declared.

Everyone else was now standing. Daryl made to leave the room, Sirius about to follow him, but Hershel spoke again. "There are other precautions I feel we should take."

"Like what?" asked Carol.

"There's no telling how long it'll be before Daryl and his group return. Wouldn't it make sense for us to separate the most vulnerable? We could use the administration building—separate offices, separate rooms."

Glenn, standing there with his arms crossed, tense and sweaty, opened his mouth to speak, and Daryl swore he saw him exchange a quick glance with Sirius. Slowly, he asked, "Who is the most vulnerable?"

"The very young."

Glenn looked around as if steeling himself before giving Hershel a knowing look. "What about the old?"

Daryl realized Glenn was worried for Hershel, who held his gaze for a moment before conceding, "Yes, the old as well."

"And…" Glenn looked around again, this time more hesitantly. He sat back down. "What about the…expecting?"

Daryl stared at him, as did everyone else. Was Glenn saying what he thought he was? Hershel put his hands on the table and leaned closer to Glenn, his eyebrows raised. "Is my daughter pregnant?"

Glenn waited a moment, and then nodded. Hershel put a hand over his chest and took a couple steps away, his back to everyone momentarily before facing them all again, his eyes shining with glee where Daryl thought there would be fear. After Lori and Judith, the idea of someone being pregnant, especially now, seemed like an undesirable prospect to Daryl, but Hershel looked up at the ceiling and clasped his hands together excitedly, a broad grin on his face.

"Finally…some good news," Hershel said. He looked back down at where Glenn sat, smiling weakly up at his father-in-law. "Son…thank you. You are going to be a great father."

Glenn blushed and looked away, unable to suppress a grin. Carol beamed at him and said, "Congratulations, Glenn."

"Congrats," Sirius said with a smirk and a wink as if totally unsurprised. Daryl realized he must have already known.

Daryl tried to smile at his friend as well, not wanting to let his own fear make Glenn afraid too. "Congrats, man."

Glenn looked awkwardly down at the table. "Thanks, guys." When he looked back up at everyone else, his expression became solemn again. "So Maggie…?"

Hershel gave a curt nod. "Yes, she should be in there as well. Perhaps she should take Judith instead of Beth, then. We can find other ways for Beth to help since she's one of the few who haven't been exposed now."

Carol nodded in agreement. "That's a good idea."

Daryl bobbed his head and, making sure his voice projected confidence and hope, said, "All right, let's get moving then!"

Carl had heard coughing from his cell and sat up, listening carefully. Whoever it was was moving, the coughing getting louder as they came down to the first floor. It sounded like Harry, he thought with a sinking feeling.

"We'll get all this taken care of. Don't worry," he heard Sirius say, confirming his fear.

Carl let out a stressed sigh, sitting there as he heard Harry and Sirius leave the cell block. Sirius must be taking him to be quarantined. The idea of his best friend, his best friend who could do magic, catching the illness made Carl nervous, but after hearing about what happened to Zach and Ryan, his anxiety was even higher.

Rick had come and broken the news to Carl about an hour ago, looking exhausted. All Carl could bring himself to do was lie down and stare at the ceiling. That was two friends dead in twenty-four hours, and Zach hadn't even died from the flu. Someone had killed him, someone in this prison.

It was strange. Carl was intellectually aware that he was sad, that he was angry, but he felt so tired internally that the emotions just weren't reaching him. It was like they were casually drifting around beneath an ocean without rising to the surface.

His dad had said Hershel was breaking the news to Beth and that Carol was telling Lizzie and Mika. He felt bad for each of them, even Lizzie. No one deserved to lose their parents.

Now, he sat there, wondering what was going to happen to Harry. He decided to wait a little while and then go to block A, where he was pretty sure he could speak to Harry through the window, if that was where he was being isolated. After about half an hour, Carl headed there, glancing around furtively as if he was doing something wrong. He wasn't exactly sure why, but he felt like he had to be sneaky and try to avoid his dad or any of the other adults he knew. There was no reason to worry about passing anything through a glass window, and Carl wasn't exposing himself to anyone else, but he had a feeling that if someone spotted him, they would try to stop him from going.

He approached block A to see Tyreese at the window, talking to Sasha, who was inside. Carl frowned, not realizing she had gotten sick as well. How many people were there now?

He hesitated briefly before joining Tyreese at the window, unsure if they would try to send him away, or if they were having a private conversation Carl would be intruding on. He decided to go up there anyway.

"Carl…" Tyreese said. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to check on Harry," Carl said, taking in Sasha's appearance. Even through the glass, he could see how sweaty she was, her eyes bruised with dark shadows. Simply standing there leaning against the window seemed to be causing her fatigue. "When did you get here?"

"Not even an hour ago," Sasha replied, her usually strong voice coming out faintly. "Harry got here right after—" she coughed, "after I did."

"Can I see him?"

"Yeah…" Sasha practically gasped. "I'll get him."

Tyreese looked at her with worry. "I'll check on you later, sis."

Sasha waved a hand somewhat floppily through the air in acknowledgement and slowly walked away, her gait unnervingly resembling a Walker's. Harry approached the window less than a minute later. He looked no better than Sasha and leaned against the window just like she had.

"You look like shit," Carl greeted.

"Still a…right side better than you do," Harry breathed.

Carl grinned. At least Harry still had his sense of humor. "How is it…in there?" Carl nodded at the window.

Harry shook his head. "Not so good. I'd given Dr. S. a bubble…but he still got sick. It's making it—" he coughed, "making it harder for him to…to treat people."

That made Carl anxious. "Does Hershel know?"

Harry nodded. "He left a bit ago. Said he's going to update the Council. Sirius has gone to join them."

Carl sighed. "This really sucks."

"Agreed."

Carl hesitated, wondering if Harry had been informed about Zach and Ryan. He figured word would probably have made its way to him. "Do you know about…?" he trailed off, not wanting to have to speak the names out loud.

Harry understood, though, and nodded, averting his eyes. "Any ideas who did it?"

"No," Carl said.

"Is Beth okay? And Lizzie and…and Mika?"

"I'm not sure." Carl felt useless, being unable to give Harry any answers. "Sorry."

Harry shook his head. "I appreciate—" he coughed, "I appreciate you coming. Can you promise me something?"

"What is it?"

"Can you promise to protect…whoever you can? Maybe snag a gun like you did before?"

Carl gave Harry a knowing look and pulled his gun out of its holster, holding it up to show him. "My dad gave it back yesterday, after everything that happened."

"That's great."

"Yeah…but yeah, I promise." He set his jaw. "No way I'm letting anyone else get murdered around here."

The corner of Harry's lip turned upward. "Thank you. I know Sirius will be…on the lookout as well, but I feel better knowing you're out there too. I hate not being able to—" another cough, "to do anything." He ended his sentence on a bitter note.

"Hey, it's not all on you, man," Carl tried to reassure him. When Harry didn't look any less frustrated, he added, "Give a Muggle some credit."

Harry snorted in laughter, giving Carl the response he was looking for. "Most Muggles don't have dung for brains like you do."

"Asshole," Carl laughed. "If this glass wasn't here, you'd be toast."

Harry grimaced. "Mm, don't talk about food right now."

"Stomach?" Harry nodded. "Okay…I'll head back then, let you rest or whatever. I'll try to swing by later if I can."

"Don't worry about me. Just…make sure everyone else is okay."

Harry coughed more and Carl watched him, wincing. "See ya, Harry."

He could still hear Harry coughing as he walked away.

While Daryl was going to see who else he could round up for their run, Sirius made his way to cell block A to let Harry know he was leaving. Guilt gnawed at his insides at the idea of abandoning his godson while he was sick, but he wanted Harry to recover, and according to Hershel, he needed medicine to do that. Sirius being able to do magic would increase the likelihood of the trip's success, and him going was a realistic way he could help. He had battled with the choice during the meeting. He knew he had just told Harry a little bit ago that he would find Zach and Ryan's killer, and he worried that said killer would potentially go after Harry and the other newly sick people with Sirius not there to protect him. He hated the idea of leaving the prison even more after Harry handled the attack in block D alone yesterday.

But Carol had made good points. The only reason anyone could come up with for the murders happening in the first place was that someone was trying to get ahead of the illness by eliminating the only two known infected. Since the flu had spread anyway, there would be nothing to achieve by killing everyone else who'd caught it. Sirius was also reassured when Carol and Hershel had said they'd make sure Harry was looked after. It was difficult, but Sirius made an effort to trust them, recalling Maggie's words from yesterday and remembering he'd told Harry that both of them needed to get better at relying on others. It was another thing Sirius needed to demonstrate by example. Plus, Sirius knew he probably lacked the proper finesse to investigate the murders and interrogate people when his temper was eager to rear its ugly head.

"Anger makes you stupid."

Michonne's words rang through Sirius' head and made him take a deep, controlled breath. Even without being here, she was helping him see things more clearly. Sirius didn't know the people at the prison as well as Rick did anyway, and Rick had also been what Muggles called a police officer, more or less their equivalent of Aurors. He knew how to stay calm and how to question people without scaring them off, like Sirius probably would.

Going on this run was something Sirius could actually do. It was a way he could truly take care of Harry in the grand scheme of things, the best way.

He needed to go.

He approached block A with some trepidation, stopping at the window. Inside, Dr. S. exited a cell nearby, staggering slightly. Sirius knocked on the window to get his attention and Dr. S. came over. Up close, he looked even more haggard. Sirius felt a surge of admiration for him for carrying on with his duties even though he must be miserable.

"How's Harry doing?" Sirius asked, wanting to hear from a doctor, knowing Harry would only tell him he was "fine."

"Not great, but better than a lot of the others," Dr. S. replied somewhat hoarsely. "He's actually been—" he coughed, "been helping me, levitating my equipment so I don't have to carry it…and levitating people too, when I need to move them…using magic to clean things, ensuring that…everything stays sanitary."

Sirius shook his head but smiled proudly. "Hershel says there's a veterinary college not too far from here?"

Dr. S. looked away thoughtfully, nodding. "Yeah, that's right. It's probably well-stocked. I don't think a lot of people would know to scavenge there." He coughed some more.

"Daryl and I are going there, for antibiotics."

"Do you know what…what to get?"

"Hershel made a list, gave it to Daryl."

Dr. S. nodded again, looking pleased. "Okay…yeah, that's good. That's a good idea. Can't believe I didn't…didn't think of that."

"We'll be back as soon as we can," Sirius said certainly. "I have to tell Harry I'm leaving. Can you get him for me?"

"Sure." Dr. S. walked away, his stride slow, and poked his head into a cell, Harry coming out of it seconds later. Harry made his way over and Sirius tried to hide his concern. In the short time since he'd brought Harry to A, his godson already looked weaker, his feet dragging slightly along the floor, his eyelids heavy, and his mouth open to breathe heavily, like Dr. S. When he reached the window, Harry looked around, walked off to the side out of Sirius' view for a moment, and came back, dragging a chair. He set it so that it faced inward and he could straddle it, resting his arms and head on top of the chair's back.

"Wow, what a lazy git you must be if you need to be sitting down all the time," Sirius quipped, grinning apologetically.

Harry looked back at him with disdain before slowly lifting one hand and sticking up his middle finger. Sirius laughed. As long as Harry still had his fighting spirit, he knew he'd be okay.

"Too lazy to speak too. Where did you get such an awful work ethic?"

Harry huffed out a single, pathetic laugh, shaking his head. "What's going on?"

Sirius appraised him, wishing he could just continue stalling with jokes. "Hershel came up with a solution to fix you lot…one that should be legitimately effective beyond simply quarantining and hoping for the best."

Harry brought his head up from where it rested. "Well don't keep me in suspense. What's the solution?"

"He knows a place that should have all the antibiotics needed to treat everyone."

"Brilliant!" Harry's eyes lit up as much as they could in his current state.

Sirius nodded. "Daryl and I are going to go there and fetch them. Planning to leave in about an hour."

The hopeful excitement Harry had on his face quickly faded. "You're leaving?"

"There aren't a lot of people who are well enough to go. And as a wizard, my going helps ensure that those antibiotics get back here quickly and safely."

Harry licked his lips and looked away. He had another small coughing fit and then groaned frustratedly, putting his forehead down on where his wrists lay. He stayed like that for a minute before lifting his head back up with a sigh and running a hand through his hair, his gaze distant in thought.

"Harry…?"

Harry stayed how he was for a moment before finally looking back at Sirius. Lips pursed, he nodded. "You're right. You need to go. People in here are…" Harry looked over his shoulder briefly, his eyes moving around the cell block before locking eyes with Sirius again. "Well…it's not good. I'd be selfish to ask you to stay."

Sirius leaned his forehead against the glass, closing his eyes and exhaling through his nose. "Listen to me…I wouldn't be doing this if I thought I would be of better use to you here. Rick's going to investigate Zach and Ryan's murder, and Carol said she'd check on you regularly while I'm gone."

"Sirius, it's okay," Harry said with somewhat of a laugh. "This is…this is a good thing." He coughed. "You need to do it." He nodded emphatically.

Sirius held his gaze carefully. "You're sure? You don't feel…abandoned?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "There's no use in you hovering outside this window day and night. I still want…justice for Zach and Ryan, but it'll have to—" more coughing, "take a back seat. It's not like it's just me who's sick."

Sirius was hit with a rush of relief. His forehead still against the glass, he couldn't help smiling at his godson. "I know I've said it before, and I know others have too, but you really do take after both of your parents in all the best ways."

"Yeah, yeah," Harry said with an air of annoyance, though he was also smiling. "Go on now. Go get me some medicine so I can stop feeling like an invalid."

Sirius appreciated his godson so much. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have him to care for. He put his hand on the glass. "I promise, I'll be back as soon as possible. I won't let you down, Harry."

Harry's features softened. "I know."

Sirius reluctantly turned away, not seeing how Harry's face fell as he left.

Carl was annoyed as he packed a bag with a huff, his father standing in the doorway of his cell.

"It's for your own good," said Rick.

Carl scoffed. "I'm fine. I don't want to be locked away with a bunch of kids."

"I need you in there, keeping an eye on Judith and everyone else, making sure they're safe."

Rick had just informed him that all kids under sixteen and all elderly were to be isolated in the administration building if they weren't already sick, which really threw a wrench into Carl's promise to keep an eye on things in Harry's absence. Carl picked his gun up from off the bed, making a point to hold his dad's gaze as he holstered it. He didn't want his dad putting him on babysitting duty under the guise of "protecting people," and he wanted to make sure he knew that if that's what he was going to tell Carl he wanted him to do, then Carl was going to take that seriously.

"If anybody gets sick, you let me know," Rick said.

Carl hefted his backpack over his shoulder, casting his father a hard stare. He was pretty sure Rick was trying to prevent Carl from being in a situation where he would have to use his gun, thinking that isolating him in the other building was the perfect solution, but Carl knew that someone going to that building could already be sick and just hadn't shown symptoms yet. That would mean that Carl may have to be the one to deal with them, which he could accept, but he wasn't sure his father could. Carl knew there was no surefire way to prevent him from ever having to do something violent. In this world, it was just inevitable. He felt like his dad was living under the delusion that he could find loopholes around that fact.

"What if they've already turned when I find them?" Carl asked, trying to keep heat out of his voice.

Rick tilted his head down and raised his eyebrows at Carl. "You don't fire unless you absolutely need to."

"But you know I might need to, right?"

Rick's eyes moved from Carl's face, clearly displeased. He didn't say anything, offering the slightest bob of his head as a "yes."

Carl moved past him and headed where he needed to be, still irritated, but knowing he needed to do as he was instructed if he wanted to be treated like one of the adults. As he was about to enter the administrative building, he saw Maggie walking the same way, a bag over her shoulder and Judith bundled in her arms. Carl raised a brow and hurried to catch up to her, still making sure to keep his distance so as not to spread anything to his sister.

"I thought Beth was holding onto Judith?" he said.

"Nope, I am," Maggie said somewhat shortly.

"Why? I mean, I just thought the others would want your help since you weren't exposed."

"Beth can help them in my place."

"Yeah, but Beth…" Carl didn't want to say his thoughts the wrong way. He appreciated everything Beth did for Judith, but she just didn't have the same level of competence that Maggie did when it came to getting other things done. "I just don't understand—"

Maggie stopped and turned to face him, stony faced, her eyebrows popping up. "I'm pregnant."

Carl blinked, not expecting to hear that, and not knowing how to feel about it or what to say. "Oh…" He couldn't help think of his mom, and how Maggie had been the only other person present for her death and bringing Judith into the world. She had cut Lori open herself.

She kept walking to the building before Carl could think of something better to say. He caught up to her. "How do you…are you happy about it?"

Maggie sighed. "Yes…"

"Buuuut…?"

"But not right now, when I can't do anything to help in a dire situation besides babysit." She stopped again, just before they reached the door. She looked down at Judith in her arms somewhat sadly. Carl was surprised when she sniffled and her voice wavered when she next spoke. "I don't mean it like caring for her isn't important. It's probably one of the most important jobs. But…with seven deaths in the last two days, two of them a murder, our numbers quickly dwindling to more sick than healthy, and now Glenn…Glenn has it too."

That hit Carl with a jolt. "What?"

Maggie nodded. "He just told me before I left, said he was gonna make his way to A with the others. I just…I can't stand the idea of sitting around when so many other people could use my help, especially when it's my husband."

Carl looked down at the ground, knowing what Maggie meant and feeling bad for her. He suddenly realized how strange it was for Maggie, Judith, and he to be alone again just the three of them. He was pretty sure it was the first time since Judith had been born. And now, Maggie was the one pregnant. Would Carl have to cut her baby out of her one day? Would Maggie have to die for her baby to live? The whole idea scared him.

"My sister and the baby growing inside you need to be kept safe," Carl finally said, "and the best way for them to stay safe is if you're isolated with them from me and the others. It is important. It's what you need to do."

Maggie smiled at him. "You sound like my dad. When things are rough, he always says, 'We've all got jobs to do,' so that everyone focuses on their task instead of being upset."

"Isn't he coming too? I thought my dad said…well…that the elderly also have to be isolated."

"He's already in there. He doesn't even know Glenn's sick yet."

Thinking of Glenn, something suddenly occurred to Carl. "Wait…did Sirius know you're pregnant?"

Maggie huffed somewhat exasperatedly. "Yeah. Guessed, apparently, and Glenn confirmed."

"Is that why he freaked out when you saved him?"

"Yes…" Maggie said in a sort of fond annoyance. "He's a sweetheart, in his own way."

"Ohhh." Carl shook his head, feeling stupid. "So he wasn't being sexist. He just didn't want you endangering the baby."

"Sexist?" Maggie furrowed a brow. "Sirius? He can be stubborn and a hothead, but he's one of the last men I'd call a sexist." She laughed a little. "You know he's head over heels for Michonne, right?"

"Well, yeah! That's why I thought it was weird when he said you shouldn't be risking yourself because you have a husband. There's no way Michonne would be with someone like that."

"Exactly, she'd eat them alive." Maggie grinned more broadly and Carl laughed with her.

Maggie entered the building with Judith. Carl hung back a few seconds before going in himself, trying to make sure there was still distance between them. He knew he felt a little better about having to do this, and from what he could tell, it looked like Maggie did too.

Harry didn't think he remembered ever being as sick as he was now. He had plenty of experience with myriad injuries and reacting sickly to stressful situations, but in terms of actual illnesses, nothing beyond a normal cold. The worst instance he could recall was when he'd been nine and lived with the Dursleys. He had woken with a fever and a wet cough that was on a significantly less severe scale than this, approaching his aunt in the kitchen, tugging on her sleeve and saying, "Aunt Petunia, I don't feel good. Can you give me some medicine?"

Aunt Petunia had responded by pulling her sleeve away in disgust and exclaiming, "You're sick? What are you doing out here then? Get back in your cupboard and keep your germs to yourself!"

He'd stayed in the cupboard for two days, being left a bowl of cold soup and a pack of stale crackers for meals. When the Dursleys all left the house to go shopping the second day, Harry went through the house until he could find liquid cold medicine in the bathroom upstairs. He hadn't known how much to drink and had had too much, putting him into a deep sleep for a solid fourteen hours. By the time he'd woken up, he'd felt better. Aunt Petunia was hollering at him from outside of the cupboard wondering how long it was going to take for him to be able to get back to his chores without getting the rest of them sick.

Now, Harry was slumped against the wall of a cell where Dr. S. was struggling to tend to David. He breathed slowly and deeply, which was a tiring task on its own, and his eyelids were heavy. His back ached, his throat ached and tickled, and he had on and off nausea. He wished he could sleep, but even if he'd been provided a king size bed made of the best material, his body was too uncomfortable. So Harry tried to at least make himself somewhat useful by staying near Dr. S., staying as alert as he could manage to take any instructions thrown his way. It was usually simple little things that allowed Dr. S. to put less strain on his body, conserving his energy for his patients. Harry sat on the floor, his wand next to him, being briefly picked up and flourished only to quickly be dropped once done so that his arms could go back to being slack at his sides.

"Harry?" Glenn's voice croaked from the doorway. Harry looked up at him as the man leaned against the wall. "Beth's here…wants to talk to you."

Harry closed his eyes. He appreciated everyone coming to see him, but he was really starting to wish they wouldn't so that he didn't have to keep spending energy transporting himself over to the window. "She okay?"

Glenn tilted his head to the side in what was meant to be a half shrug. "If she's upset, she's hiding it."

Harry groaned as he stood, making his way out of the cell and over to the window again, dropping onto the chair he'd left there. Beth stood on the other side of the window, a sad smile on her face.

"Hey," she greeted softly.

"Hey," Harry croaked. He cleared his throat, trying to think of the best way to approach her after losing Zach. Whatever he felt for her, he didn't want to make the same mistakes he had with Cho after Cedric's death. "I, er…I'm sorry. About…"

She stayed quite composed. Harry scrutinized her, noticing her eyes were clear, no puffiness or redness around them, no other signs of crying. "I'm just glad I got to know him."

Harry frowned. "He…I mean…I know he really liked you. I think maybe…that he was, you know…in love with you."

Beth smiled more genuinely now. "He told you we exchanged 'I love yous,' didn't he?"

"Well…yeah," Harry answered guiltily. "I think he was worried you wouldn't, er, wouldn't say it back."

"Before the Big Spot run, I thought it would be better not to get too attached. Stuff could still go wrong and he could be gone. When he got back, he told me how he almost died, and he told me he loved me. I decided…I could still stay prepared to lose him, but there was no reason not to enjoy being with him while he was here, give him that happiness. So…" She sighed. "I said it back. That way, if and when something did happen to him, he would leave the world knowing he was loved instead of thinking I didn't care."

She watched him, still not giving away any signs of emotion, her words spoken quite plainly. Harry thought it was strange, especially after how bereaved Cho had been. He had mentally prepared himself to be consoling and not so tactless, as Hermione had called him. It was throwing him off, giving him a sort of whiplash to see Beth being so stoic when he had anticipated her being depressed, angry, or some form of distressed.

"Did you mean it?" Harry asked. He coughed. "When you said it back?"

Beth looked away, showing the first sign of discomfort this entire interaction. "I wanted to. I did care about him."

Harry actually found himself starting to feel somewhat indignant, anger creeping up his throat. "Did you? You don't seem too broken up over him getting killed."

He expected Beth to react defensively, but she still stayed calm, simply looking at him as if there was something she understood that he didn't. "I don't cry anymore, Harry. I've lost too many people already to dwell on these kinds of things instead of just accepting them for what they are. There are people who are still alive that I can help. I don't get to be upset."

Harry stared at her, his anger fading somewhat to be replaced by pity. "You're allowed to be upset even—" he coughed. "If other things are going on."

She shook her head. "We've all got jobs to do. Yours is to get better. Mine is to support everyone however I can since I'm healthy."

Her response troubled Harry. He appreciated her strength, but worried that it would cost her later. He hadn't known Zach nearly as long and was only his friend instead of his significant other, and he was still quite upset over his death. When he wasn't feeling too sick to think about anything else, he found himself cycling between rage and sadness. Even if Beth didn't love Zach as much as Zach had wanted her to, she still felt something for him, and that had to be causing her pain, whether she was stuffing it down or not.

Not knowing what else to say, Harry steered toward more shallow waters. "Where's Judith? I thought watching her was your job?"

"Maggie has her now. They're isolating in the administration building since they're both vulnerable."

"How's Maggie vulnerable? Because she was around Glenn? You were around Zach."

Now Beth beamed, her eyes sparkling. "She's pregnant."

Harry started to wonder if he was having a fever dream with all the unexpected things Beth was throwing at him. "What? Glenn didn't say anything."

Beth's eyes shifted to look behind Harry before returning her attention to him. "He's frustrated about being sick, being quarantined. He's worried about Maggie and not being able to be around for her."

Harry nodded, sympathizing. "I'll keep an eye on him."

"Thanks, Harry. I better get going. I just wanted to see how you were doing."

Harry could feel his frown deepen. She shouldn't be worrying about him with what she had going on. "I'm all right." His throat immediately itched with the need to cough and he tried to suppress it as well as he could so as not to contradict himself.

"Good…Keep doing your job, Harry."

She left, leaving Harry confused on top of everything else. He stood, about to go check in with Glenn, who had only arrived to A maybe forty minutes ago. He stopped, though, when he saw two more people approaching. Carol had a bandana around her mouth and nose, her arm around Lizzie, who was coughing.

Harry's heart ached. On top of her dad being murdered overnight, now Lizzie was sick and had to be quarantined too. He found himself scrambling for a way for her to not have to come into A, to be somewhere else instead, nothing coming to mind, of course. He didn't like the idea of her being in here while still grieving. The atmosphere was depressing, many of the adults in A being frightened and hopeless. A child, freshly bereft of her father, shouldn't be in here.

He watched as Lizzie tearfully spoke to Carol, only able to hear their voices from where they stood, but not what they were saying. They came closer, Carol holding a hand on Lizzie's back much like she had with Harry. She made eye contact with him as she spotted him standing there and then pointed him out to Lizzie, who also looked at him. He tried to cast her a reassuring smile and held up a hand in greeting. Lizzie looked back at Carol and nodded as Carol seemed to be saying something (hard to tell with the bandana over her mouth). They hugged and then Lizzie opened the door, slowly entering the cell block and looking around fearfully.

Harry moved a few steps toward the door. Carol caught his eye from behind Lizzie, lowering her bandana so she could mouth, "Please take care of her," without Lizzie's notice. Harry gave her a subtle nod. She mouthed, "Thank you," and put the bandana back up.

Once the door was shut, Lizzie started trembling, her eyes darting around and her chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. Harry ducked his head to catch her attention.

"This place isn't so bad," he lied. He made a show of looking around him as if checking for eavesdroppers before leaning closer to Lizzie and lowering his voice. "Between you and me, you're probably the toughest person in here. Everyone else is acting like a bunch of drama queens."

Lizzie laughed at that. "Carol taught me how to be strong."

"Perfect. We could probably use your—" he coughed, trying to stop and return a smile to his face as soon as possible. "You could probably help a lot of us out here. Think you're up for that?"

Lizzie looked around again, this time with a sense of resolve. When she looked back at Harry, there was a determined glint in her eye. "What can I do?"

Daryl stood with the car trunk open, holding onto the door while scanning the contents before deciding to shut it. They had all the supplies needed. They had a small team. They were ready to go.

He walked around the car to where Sirius, Tyreese, and Bob stood. He had already known Sirius was coming, of course. Tyreese wanted to come because both Sasha and Karen were now sick and he wanted them to get better. Bob had been an army medic and knew what they needed, so if Daryl had trouble with the list Hershel gave him, he could help.

"Is this Zach's car?" Sirius asked quietly.

"Yeah," Daryl replied. "Fastest one we got. Zach took pretty good care of it."

So the four of them took off, Daryl driving, Sirius riding shotgun, and Tyreese and Bob in the backseat. After ten minutes or so, Daryl found himself glancing over at Sirius, who was looking out the window, deep in thought.

"You feel bad about leaving?" Daryl asked.

Sirius looked over at him, eyebrows raised. "No, I'm absolutely chuffed to leave my orphaned godson behind while he's dangerously ill and has just experienced heavy shit."

Daryl grunted at the sarcasm dripping from Sirius, but otherwise ignored it. "I told you, he'll be okay."

"I know he'll be okay. I'm just not sure if he'll ever get to be more than okay."

Daryl glanced back at Sirius, but his friend was already looking out the window again. He drummed his fingers on top of the steering wheel, thinking of the right words.

"Hey…it'll happen. Ya gotta have faith."

Sirius snorted. "Right you are, oh, wise one."

Daryl rolled his eyes. "I mean it. Y'all will find a way back home someday. And even if ya don't…well…ya got a home here. I know it ain't great right now, but…he can still have a good future."

Sirius finally looked at him in earnest, his eyes both pained and searching, as if he wanted to believe what Daryl said but was wary to. "You think so?"

Daryl looked back at him, making sure he made eye contact. He nodded and said, "Mhm."

The corner of Sirius' mouth lifted slightly before he let his gaze fall to the road ahead. He heaved a deep sigh. "Any tunes in here? I'm desperate enough to take any Yankee shit you bastards have."

"Pft. Think there are some CDs in the glovebox."

Sirius arched a brow at him. "CDs?"

It took a moment of confusion before Daryl remembered why Sirius wouldn't understand what CDs were. "Disks that play music." Sirius nodded and opened the glovebox, rummaging around. "How do y'all listen to music in your world?"

"Wireless networks and speakers," Sirius replied, sifting through the CDs.

Daryl hummed in response and turned on the audio system, which was already set to a dead radio station, spitting out static. Grimacing, he began changing stations, trying to find one that was at least quiet before Sirius could choose a CD.

"Ha!" Sirius barked. "AC/DC. There we go."

As Sirius returned all CDs but one to the glovebox, Daryl landed on a station where there were discernable words among the static.

"Wait!" exclaimed Bob.

"What was that?" Tyreese asked, leaning forward between the front seats.

Daryl held up a hand to silence everyone and turned up the volume. There was still a lot of static, but the words "Terminus" and "survive" were distinguishable. Daryl kept one hand on the wheel, one hand up in the air, and his eyes fixed absently toward the audio system as he tried to focus on listening.

"Look out!" yelled Bob.

Daryl looked up to see a Walker in the road right in front of them. The car hit it before Daryl could do anything and it went flying, leaving some blood on the windshield. More Walkers were scattered down the road, though. Daryl put his foot on the brakes and tried to steer around the Walkers, still hitting some of them with glancing blows but still keeping the car under control.

What he saw ahead made him slam the car to a halt.

There was a horde just down the road stretching out for at least another mile, maybe even more. It fully impeded their path and Daryl realized they could no longer go this way. He yelled, "Grab something!" and shifted to reverse, speeding backward.

He hit several Walkers until the car stuttered to a stop and refused to move despite Daryl pressing on the gas.

"We're jammed!" Tyreese exclaimed.

Daryl tried shifting back into drive and moving forward, but the wheels only spun in place, the car still not budging. He glanced behind him to see blood flying behind the rear passenger side wheel and realized the car was jammed by Walker bodies.

Sirius looked around too and seemed to realize the same thing. More Walkers made their way over to the car, starting to bang on the windows and hood.

"If I slow them down and clear the jam, can you lot cover me?" Sirius asked.

Daryl looked at him before glancing back at Tyreese and Bob, both of them nodding, readying their weapons. "Yeah, let's do it!"

Daryl remembered there was a sun roof and held his hand over the button, looking at Sirius. "Ready?"

Sirius nodded. "Hit it."

Daryl opened the sun roof and Sirius immediately stood and hoisted himself through it to stand on top of the car. He cast spells at the Walkers in clusters and Daryl could see their movements visibly slow down. A good chunk of them were still right there, though, surrounding the car. Even moving slower, they could still bite.

Sirius began firing more offensive spells to actually kill them. Tyreese and Bob had opened their windows halfway and were firing shots at the ones nearby. Daryl grabbed his crossbow and pushed himself through the sun roof as well, shooting more Walkers.

Once there weren't too many in close proximity, Sirius jumped down from the car and crouched by the jammed tire. Several Walkers approached from all directions, some of them moving slow enough not to be threats, and some of them moving at normal speed. Daryl began firing at the ones Sirius hadn't slowed, as Tyreese and Bob did the same through the windows.

There were flashes of light as Sirius applied different spells to the mashed stack of Walker bodies beneath and around the tire. Daryl wasn't exactly sure what kind of magic he was using to get them out of the way, but after a couple minutes, Sirius called, "We're good! Let's go!"

Daryl dropped back through the sun roof and into the driver's seat as Tyreese and Bob brought their windows back up. Sirius hauled himself back onto the car and lowered himself through the sun roof as well, pressing the button to close it right away so that Daryl could focus on switching gears and turning the car around.

They sped back down the road the way they had come from, everyone breathing heavily from the adrenaline. Once they had put a decent distance between themselves and the Walker horde, Daryl slowed to a stop and put the car in park.

"Grab the map in there," he pointed at the glovebox and Sirius opened it, finding a folded map and passing it to him. Daryl laid it out over the console, sliding his hands over it to smooth it out. Sirius, Tyreese, and Bob all leaned over it. "All right…we're here." Daryl touched his finger to their location on the map. "The vet college is over…here." He traced the route and squinted at the roads available.

"This one should be good," Tyreese said, pointing a finger.

Daryl looked at where he was talking about and shook his head. "Nah. Sasha and I checked it out a month or so ago. Road's blocked by trees from that big storm."

"Shit…" Tyreese frowned, leaning his head closer to the map to look for other options.

After a moment of thoughtful silence, Daryl said, "There ain't any other direct roads, but we can take this one for a while—" he pointed at a road that they could take at a left turn about twenty miles back the way they'd come on the road they were currently on, "and then another left here—" he pointed at another road, "and get out and walk the rest of the way. We'd only be on foot maybe…four or five miles. It'll set us back a bit time-wise, but…"

"That's doable," Tyreese agreed.

Sirius nodded in laid back enthusiasm, grabbing the AC/DC CD and trying to push it against different parts of the audio system. Daryl watched for a moment, amused, before taking the CD from him and putting it in the slot himself. The intro to the song "For Those About to Rock (We Salute You)" began to play and Daryl couldn't help exchanging smirks with Sirius, who clasped his hands behind his head, put his feet on the dashboard, and said, "Let's go!"

Daryl shifted gears and put his foot back on the gas as the song played, feeling energized.

"We aint no legend, ain't no cause

We're just livin' for today…"

Even though Carl had quickly come to accept that this was the position he was stuck in, he also quickly grew bored and restless. He began pacing the halls of the administration building, knocking on doors of different offices and other rooms that he knew were occupied to ask if all was still okay, if anyone needed anything. Molly had complained from inside the room she was in that she was bored. Carl searched through the building until he found a book of word searches and a pocket sized checkers set, leaving the items in front of the door. After that, Rodney, a man in his late seventies, said he was thirsty, and Carl brought him a cup of water from the jug that Hershel had transported over from the prison.

Otherwise, not much else was going on. He stopped outside of the office Maggie was in with Judith and inquired about his sister a couple of times, Maggie reassuring him that she was content the first time and sleeping the second time.

Even though the building had been cleared what seemed like forever ago and used by the prison community here and there, Carl still kept an eye out for Walkers in case any had found a spot to breach or if someone had gotten sick and turned.

After a while, he came down one hallway to find Hershel emerging from his office and walking down an intersecting hallway, his pace urgent.

"Where are you going?" he called after him.

Hershel stopped. "I'm down here away from y'all 'cause you kids are supposed to stay away from me."

Carl took a few steps forward. "I've been walking the halls. My dad told me to look out for everyone."

Hershel held up a hand as Carl approached. "Well…you should keep your distance."

Carl stood where he was, but looked at where Hershel had been heading. "You're walking towards the exit."

"I need to go out there"

Confused, Carl tilted his head, frowning. "To the cell blocks?"

"To the woods."

"So you're sneaking out."

Frustration mounted in Hershel's tone, his eyebrows popping up. "I don't need anyone worrying about me and I damn sure don't want someone telling me I can't go."

The door of the office where Maggie was staying opened. She peered out with Judith nestled against her, still sleeping but making snuffling sounds as if she might wake.

"What are y'all arguing about?" Maggie asked in a hushed voice, casting stern eyes between them. "Daddy, where don't you want someone telling you not to go?"

Hershel sighed, looking down at the floor for a moment before returning his focus to Maggie. "I have knowledge and skills that most people here don't. I'm wasting them staying here."

Maggie widened her eyes at her father. Her voice was angry but she still kept it quiet. "Dr. S. is in there. He's got it covered."

"Caleb is sick and losing strength. He needs my help."

"I thought you wanted to go to the woods?" Carl interjected.

"I do," Hershel said impatiently. "There are berries out there that I can make a tea with to alleviate some of their symptoms, provide a little relief till they get their medicine."

Carl and Maggie both just stared at Hershel silently as they tried to figure out how to respond. Harry's words echoed in Carl's head. "Can you promise to protect whoever you can?" He realized that Harry had been thinking more so about keeping people safe from whoever had murdered Zach and Ryan, but he also knew he wouldn't want him turning a blind eye from someone in danger of Walkers either.

Hershel looked between the two of them, said, "All right then," and turned to leave again.

"Daddy!" Maggie hissed, stepping all the way out of the office as Judith began to stir. Hershel stopped and looked at her, eyes full of exasperation but also affection. Maggie huffed before turning to Carl. "You take your sister for a while so I can go with him."

Carl opened his mouth to protest, thinking Judith was safer with Maggie than him in terms of contagiousness. Hershel beat him to it, though. "Maggie, you have your own job to do. Let me do mine."

"I can't let you risk your life!" Maggie's eyes now shone with tears.

"Dammit, Maggie, everything we do now is a risk to our lives!" Hershel stepped toward her, now looking fed up. "The only thing you can choose is what you're risking your life for."

"What are you risking your life for, Dad?" Maggie challenged. "I need you!"

Hershel's features softened, a sad but proud smile appearing on his face. He moved as if about to close the distance between himself and his daughter, but stayed put, probably remembering she and Judith were vulnerable. "You don't, honey. You do need Glenn, though, and Glenn needs me. My time on this earth is limited. I've planted seeds for the next generation to water and grow. You, that baby you're carrying, and your husband are the future. It's my job to secure and protect your future."

A tear fell down Maggie's cheek and she used her free shoulder to wipe it away. She looked down at Judith, who was now waking up with a fuss, squirming slightly and making noises. Maggie watched her and smiled before looking back at her father with pained understanding. She nodded and, softly, said, "Okay."

"Trust me, sweetheart. I'll be all right."

Thinking quickly, Carl stepped forward. "I'm going with you."

"Carl—"

"I won't stop you from anything you're trying to do, but I still need to do my job, and that's keeping you safe while you do yours." Carl held Hershel's gaze with determination, hoping he was emitting some sense of authority.

Hershel chuckled. "Fine, you can escort me to the woods. You're not coming back to the cell blocks with me, though."

Carl considered this, knowing he still had to protect Judith, Maggie, and everyone else in the administration building too. He nodded. "I'll come back here after we're out of the woods."

"All right, let's go then." Hershel beckoned for Carl to follow him and then blew a kiss to Maggie, who smiled tightly.

Once Hershel was a few feet away, Carl faced Maggie as he passed her. "I'll take care of him. I promise."

"I know you will," Maggie said.

Carl followed Hershel outside and to a particular area just a little way into the woods, Hershel holding up a hand as he looked around.

"Here," Hershel said, approaching a bush and crouching slightly to get a closer look at the berries. Carl positioned himself a few feet away, standing with his back to Hershel and his gun raised, acting as Hershel's personal sentry.

"When did your dad give it back?" Hershel asked.

Carl knew Hershel was referring to his gun. He cast his gaze around the area to make sure it was still clear before looking back over his shoulder at Hershel. "Yesterday, after everything happened."

"You've grown a lot these last few months. There's a responsibility about you."

A swell of pride hit Carl at hearing that. His dad would love him unconditionally, killer or not, but Hershel had no such obligations. Not to mention, Hershel was the person who had most disapproved of Carl shooting the Woodbury boy. So hearing from him that he was doing a good job bore a little more weight.

"I think it's…done you good to step back," Hershel continued.

"Yeah…" Carl agreed, turning and walking past Hershel to make sure they were still clear of danger from the opposite direction. "It was all right. Can't be like that all the time."

"I would have been fine on my own," Hershel insisted. "It's peaceful out here. These last couple days, we might be safer outside those walls than in."

Carl understood where Hershel was coming from, agreeing to an extent, but mostly, he disagreed. While it was horrible that a deadly illness had spread through their community and there had been a few deaths by Walkers, a couple by a person, he remembered how hard it was to be out in the wild…sleeping with one eye open and twitching or jolting at every bristle of a leaf or snap of a twig, even though most of the noises were caused by the wind or animals. No, things weren't completely safe at the prison, but they were a hell of a lot safer than outside the walls Hershel spoke of. It was easy to forget, Carl knew, when they had been so safe for several months.

Carl moved across the clearing they were in, his eyes scanning his surroundings until they landed on a small, disheveled tent some ten to twenty feet away. He frowned and lifted his gun as he glanced at Hershel, thinking that the provided evidence in front of them would help drive his point home. "No, we're not."

He gestured at the tent and Hershel followed him toward it, both of them scoping out the area for enemies, living or dead. A pitiful growl reached Carl's ears, and he spotted the top half of a Walker against a tree. It looked like a large limb had perhaps fallen on it and severed it at the waist. It turned its head toward Carl and Hershel as they approached, reaching a hand up toward them. Carl kept his gun ready.

"Let's wrap this up," said Hershel.

There was more growling accompanied by a clanking sound behind them and they both turned around to see a Walker with a metal animal snare enclosed around the bottom of its leg. Carl moved toward it and aimed his gun as it walked their way.

"Don't. You don't need to."

Carl kept his gun trained on the Walker a brief moment longer before listening to Hershel and lowering it. He disliked leaving the Walker alive when it could eventually make its way closer to the prison, but he was also very aware he'd just gotten his gun back, and Hershel was one of the people he most needed to show he was deserving of it. The man had just complimented his maturing a mere minute ago. Carl wasn't about to destroy that progress. He turned to start heading back toward the prison as Hershel still watched the Walker.

"It was so peaceful," Hershel said with disappointment.

"It was," Carl said as he passed him. He wished it was his dad who was there instead of Hershel, so that he could see with his own eyes that nothing would ever be safe in their world. "Can't be like that all the time."

They were quiet for a bit as they made their way back toward the buildings. Carl started getting lost in his own thoughts as they walked. He knew his dad had left a little earlier to go on a short run with Carol to scavenge nearby neighborhoods for food. He wondered if they were having any success, and while he wasn't particularly worried, he hoped they were okay. He hoped Harry was okay too and not too seriously sick, and that Michonne was okay with no one else out there to have her back, and that Daryl's group was okay and would be back soon with the medicine. He was used to chaos enough not to be overwhelmed, but with so many people in different directions and in different forms of danger, and with how much had happened in the last couple days, it was difficult to believe that everyone on his mind would eventually come together safe and healthy.

Hershel startled him somewhat from his thoughts. "What I said back there, to Maggie, that applies to you too, you know."

Carl tried to recall everything Hershel had said and discern which part he was talking about. "What do you mean?"

"About the future. You and your sister are important in that way as well. It's one reason why you should have more concern for your own safety." Carl was about to argue, but Hershel held up a hand. "Your protectiveness is admirable. I truly do appreciate you for it, even if you are a damn pain in my ass." Hershel winked at him and Carl couldn't help grinning. "Just don't forget that you're important for the future. The world is going to need a man like you."

Carl averted his gaze, feeling awkward as he was both flattered and humbled. "How do you figure that?"

"Look how much you've grown in such a short time. You're strong, adaptable, sensible. You take initiative. By the time you're an adult, I'm sure you'll make a great leader. I see that kind of thing in Maggie too. I think the two of you could really rebuild things one day."

Carl didn't know what to say. He hadn't thought that far ahead to be honest. He mostly took things day by day, his first priorities always being to keep those he cared about safe. The idea that he could one day be more important on a larger scale and that society could potentially be reinstated, and that he could be a key part in that happening, had never occurred to him.

"You are going to beat this world."

His mother's final words, spoken with such certainty, such conviction, pulled at him in a way they never had before. He'd only ever seen that particular sentence as his mother having faith in him, offering a final attempt at giving him hope to keep going.

He'd never contemplated them in a more literal sense, that Carl might survive to see things change for the better. It was a thought that sat heavily on him, but in a way that sparked something internally, something exciting, like lighting the end of a fuse. He welcomed the feeling, trying to pull it close to his chest and keep it there.

When they reached the part of the courtyard where Carl and Hershel would go their separate ways, Carl looked around awkwardly for a moment before addressing his companion. "Please…be careful."

Hershel smiled warmly. "You be careful too, Carl."

Carl nodded and made his way back to the administration building as Hershel headed toward the cell blocks. With a slightly tired sigh, Carl returned to patrolling the halls, his gun at the ready, knowing it was unlikely to be needed, but being prepared anyway. After all, things in this building were currently pretty peaceful.

But they couldn't be like that all the time.

As the drive went on, Sirius found himself more relaxed than the first stretch of the trip, when he'd still been freshly fraught with guilt and worry for leaving Harry. He kept reminding himself he was doing what was best for his godson. Yet he knew that wasn't something he would fully believe until he returned with the antibiotics and saw them help Harry get better.

He wasn't happy that their run was now going to take more time after encountering the herd. He knew, though, that it would have taken even longer if they had had to abandon Zach's car. It made him even more certain he'd made the right choice in coming. He didn't think Daryl, Tyreese, and Bob would have been able to get the car unjammed. Sirius had had to use several severing charms to break up the "contents" piled beneath the tire and then vanished the pieces of body a few portions at a time. It certainly hadn't been a pleasant task, but it was better than any of the things he'd had to do yesterday.

His mood having lightened up somewhat, Sirius started thinking about Michonne again as he watched them drive past different sections of woods and buildings. He wondered where she was right now, if there was any chance of running into her on their trip. Had she been anyone else, Sirius would be worried about her only having a blade and no long range weapons, leaving her to have to fight any Walkers or people up close. If anyone could handle themselves with only a katana, though, he knew Michonne could. He started wondering how she'd gotten so good at using it.

He looked over at Daryl. "Where'd Michonne get her sword? I can't imagine they're exactly common weapons to come across."

Daryl kept his eyes on the road, but Sirius would swear he could see the corner of his mouth twitch. "No idea. She's had it whole time we've known her."

"Would have been good to have her for all this," Tyreese said. "I get why she wants the Governor dead. I do. But she would have been helpful here."

"You know she's doing it for you lot, right?" said Sirius, glancing behind him at Tyreese and Bob and then sideways at Daryl. "She can't stop worrying he'll come back to kill you all."

"That includes you, too," Daryl said. "She definitely don't want you dying."

An excited thrum vibrated in Sirius' chest. He tried to come off as casual. "What do you mean?" Daryl looked at him, brows raised in exasperation. "What?"

Sirius looked back at Tyreese and Bob. Tyreese was smirking knowingly, suppressing a snicker, while Bob bit his lip in a failed attempt to hide a grin.

"You think we're blind?" Tyreese asked.

"Yeah, man, everyone knows you two are a thing," said Bob.

"Huh…" Sirius said, turning back to face frontward. "I didn't realize it was that obvious."

"Y'all ain't exactly subtle," Daryl grunted. Sirius shrugged. With an exaggerated tone of disgust, Daryl added, "I know I ain't seen her look at anyone else the way she looks at you."

Sirius couldn't help his lip curling triumphantly. He leaned back again and returned his feet to the dashboard as he started daydreaming about when Michonne returned and where their relationship would go. He imagined going on runs together, just the two of them, fighting Walkers together and protecting each other. He imagined spending time in her cell, getting to hold her for as long as she wanted him to, reveling in the fact that someone like her existed and that she cared for him. He imagined the two of them presenting Harry with a birthday present together, both of them exchanging hugs with his godson.

Good god, man, calm down. You're getting way ahead of yourself.

It was dark when they approached their stopping point, where they would disembark on foot the rest of the way. Daryl pulled the car off the road and through a field, finding a spot at the edge of the woods that he could fit the car through, parking just inside the treeline.

"A'right…" Daryl said tiredly, "we'll stay here tonight, pick up in the morning once the sun's up. I'll keep watch."

"Man, you've been driving all day," Tyreese said. "I got some sleep on the ride. Let me do it."

Watching Daryl's internal struggle, Sirius said, "I can cast a couple of protective enchantments around the car. It'll stop people from seeing us or breaking through the barrier."

"Walkers too?" Daryl asked, looking genuinely intrigued.

"It…should work against Walkers, yeah," Sirius said slowly as he thought about it. It would work on some but not all magical creatures back home, making them see an empty area devoid of the people being protected and not allowing them passage through. Walkers didn't have any sort of intelligence or magic abilities (unless you counted their inability to feel pain or die without getting hit in the brain), so there was no reason the enchantments shouldn't work on them. Without waiting for Daryl to say anything else, Sirius opened his door and got out of the car, taking a moment to stretch before walking a slow circle around it and muttering the incantations, seeing them take affect when strips of light slid down through the air in front of him before disappearing.

Tyreese exited the car as Sirius made his way back over. He looked around, frowning, and said, "I don't see anything," in a hushed voice.

"You're not supposed to," Sirius replied. When Tyreese still looked around nervously, Sirius said, "I wouldn't put you in a false sense of security. That would just endanger us more. Trust me."

"Okay," Tyreese nodded. He sat on the ground with a grunt, leaning against one of the tires (not the one that had been covered in blood and guts), and Sirius sat across from him, leaning against a tree.

"Hope you don't mind some company for a bit," said Sirius, tilting his head up to look at the night sky. He could see the stars through the treetops. "I'm still a little too wired to sleep. Actually, if you want to sleep, I don't mind keeping watch instead."

"I won't be able to sleep either, but thanks."

"Sure."

After a moment of comfortable silence, Tyreese said, "Why don't you cast those enchantments around the prison?"

"I can't. I would need more wizards to cover a large area like that. It's advanced magic for Harry and would take time for him to learn, but even then, just the two of us could only cover a minimal amount of space. And with so many occupants in different places at different times, coming and going, it just wouldn't be viable."

"I gotcha…Doing magic seems complicated." Tyreese chuckled. "I keep imagining it as just saying a few words when you wave that wand of yours."

"Yeah, there's definitely more to it than that. It requires focus, energy, precision, and practice. Certain spells only apply to certain circumstances. Like…" Sirius ran a hand through his hair as he searched for an example. "Right, so, we have a basic defensive spell that stuns a person, rendering them unconscious. I tried it on a Walker, thinking how great it would be to just knock 'em all out and then kill them while they couldn't attack. Didn't work, though. I think it's because Walkers don't have a sense of consciousness, kind of like how they don't sleep or have a sense of pain. Even animals have those things, so they're stunnable. The Walkers are only dead or alive."

Tyreese let out a low whistle. "I would love to get to go to your world. This is all so fascinating."

They were silent another few minutes, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Sirius was thinking about how peaceful it was out here, even though he knew there were monsters both alive and dead that could take away that peace at any time. The temperature had cooled with the sun down, leaving the air comfortable, neither too hot or cold. Crickets and cicadas provided a somewhat soothing background noise. He wondered if he could take Harry camping sometime. Maybe they could scope out a place near the prison that was mostly devoid of Walkers and hadn't knowingly been touched by people in a while. Sirius could use the protective enchantments to give them an area to set up a tent and campfire, where they'd eat whatever snacks they had managed to scavenge and exchange stories about their different times at Hogwarts.

It was such a simple idea. Yet, it seemed ridiculously unattainable. Even in their own world, Harry and Sirius both had too many people after them to do such a little thing like take a camping trip.

Tyreese brought him out of his thoughts after a while. "I heard you were…you know, the one who found Ryan and Zach." Sirius removed his gaze from the sky to look at Tyreese, being able to slightly make out his form in the dark with the help of the moonlight. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. I've seen a lot of stuff since the turn, but that's a rough one."

Sirius looked back up at the stars, gritting his teeth. "It is what it is."

"It's not okay. No matter what the intentions were, those were people. Zach was still pretty much a kid…and Ryan actually had kids. They could have been okay once we return with the antibiotics, and someone took that chance away from them."

"If I ever find out who did it, I'm going to do a lot more to them than burning them alive. They'll be begging me to let them choke on smoke after what I put them through."

Tyreese paused. "I agree they need to be punished, but don't take it too far, man."

Sirius folded his arms in front of his chest. "How far should I take it then?"

"I don't know. I do know you're a good man, and you got a good kid. We already fight hard to prevent Walkers from turning us into monsters. We gotta fight even harder to prevent other humans from turning us into monsters too."

Sirius thought about when he'd first met Harry in the Shrieking Shack, when he and Remus were on the verge of sending Peter to his much deserved grave. Harry had interfered, saying he was certain James wouldn't want them becoming killers over the rat. Sirius had listened to Harry's wishes, even if he didn't fully agree with him, and Peter had escaped shortly after, stopping Sirius from being exonerated and playing a large part in Voldemort returning to power. He didn't blame his godson for it by any means, but he often wondered if Harry would change the choice if he knew how things would unfold.

If Sirius found Zach and Ryan's killer, would Harry want him to spare their lives, like Peter? Or would he want them dead after killing the people Harry had put so much energy into protecting?

Then, Sirius thought back to his conversation with Hershel just about a month ago now. Hershel had spoken of protecting Harry's heart, of Sirius not letting the world turn his godson into a cold killer.

It pulled Sirius in two different directions. He wanted justice for Zach and Ryan. He wanted Harry to find satisfaction and catharsis. But he didn't want Harry to lose his goodness. Even if it was Sirius taking the physical action of killing the perpetrator, he would still be setting the example for Harry. He could picture James and Lily shaking their heads in disappointment.

"What would you do?" Sirius eventually asked. "If you found the bodies, or if they belonged to someone you love, like Karen or Sasha? What would you do for justice?"

"Being honest…" Tyreese chuckled mirthlessly. "I'd probably lose my goddamn mind, so I can't be sure. I like to think I'd find a way to give them what they deserve without taking their life in return. But when grief has rendered me irrational…I can't promise I wouldn't become a monster myself."

Sirius felt a surge of affection for Tyreese. He reminded him slightly of Hagrid. Tyreese was large and intimidating, and he had the ability to cause harm if he wanted to, but his nature was kind and gentle. "I think you'd stay who you are."

"I hope so. People seem to think surviving is the way to win the apocalypse. I think staying who we are is the real victory. I'd rather die as I am than live and lose myself."

There was another moment of silence as Sirius absorbed Tyreese's words, both impressed with and annoyed by the man's wisdom. He laughed quietly to himself. "You just had to set the bar that high, didn't you?"

Tyreese laughed in return. "I ain't expecting you to reach any bars, man. After all, dogs jump over bars, right?"

Harry didn't think it was possible to feel any worse than he already did. Now he realized how naïve he actually was.

He had tasked Lizzie with sitting by the sickest people and reading to them, hoping to take both her mind and other people's minds off things. This ended up backfiring when her mind would wander from the book she had to start spilling her own thoughts instead. Harry heard her telling Henry about how the Walkers were still the same people, just at different stages, comparing her physical growth from a child to an eventual adult with the transition from human to Walker. She seemed to think becoming a Walker was no different than a human's body changing and aging naturally over time, explaining that it was still the same person, just that they were different now.

Already somewhat nauseous, Harry had found his stomach feeling sicker when he'd heard her saying this, realizing more fully just how mentally unwell she was. He didn't blame her for being this way. It was unrealistic to expect every child experiencing this type of apocalypse to properly process the things they went through and come out the other side still sane, like Carl.

That didn't mean it didn't disturb him.

His worry for Lizzie aside, Harry also was physically more unwell than he had been upon first entering quarantine. He was weaker and more lethargic, his thoughts fuzzier and slower. He had vomited a couple of times, even though there was little food in him to throw up. His throat was in constant pain and irritation. His breathing was even more labored.

Hershel had come into the cell block a couple hours ago, instantly finding Harry and requesting a Bubble Head charm. Harry had cast it quickly, or as quickly as his mind and body would allow, the simple act of magic draining him. Hershel had been making his rounds to everyone in place of Dr. S., who was now essentially incapacitated. He was still alive, but drifting in and out of consciousness, coughing up blood. Harry had felt his chest tighten when he'd next seen Hershel with flecks of blood on his bubble.

Harry, Glenn, and Sasha had each taken turns trying to tell Hershel he shouldn't be in there with them, that he shouldn't be risking himself. All of their words fell on deaf ears. And truthfully, even though Harry felt guilty that Hershel was there and anxious for his wellbeing, he also found the man's presence comforting and appreciated him being there. Hershel carried a certain calmness and stability that made Harry feel like things would be okay even if all evidence before him indicated otherwise.

Now was one of those moments where all other evidence definitely indicated otherwise. Currently, Harry was curled up on a bed, clutching his knees against his abdomen as his stomach disturbed him with intermittent bouts of nausea. He had been vanishing anything he threw up until twenty minutes ago. The most recent pile of sick he'd spewed still sat on the floor below him, ignored by Harry, who was too tired to care enough to get rid of it. The one fortunate aspect of this situation was that Harry was too congested to smell the vomit. Instead, he just shivered and closed his eyes against the rolling pains in his stomach, breathing shakily as he willed himself to feel better.

He was starting to find himself weighed down with depression, wondering what it would matter if he survived this flu or not when something or someone else would probably just kill him a few days later anyway. Zach had been doing okay, just not okay enough for whoever had snuffed him out overnight. Lizzie had lost her father and come down with the illness in the same day, while Mika was somewhere else without her father or sister, the last of her family.

Come off it. You've got a fever and your brains are scrambled. You're not thinking straight.

A hand touched his forehead just as he had this thought, and he opened his eyes to see Hershel standing over him, his kind eyes scanning Harry as he hummed to himself.

"You're warmer than you were before," Hershel said, frowning. Then he glanced down at the floor. "And you threw up again. How many times was that in the last hour?"

"Three," Harry groaned.

Hershel nodded. "We need to get you some water. You're dehydrated."

" 'M all right."

"Nonsense. I'll grab you some."

Hershel left the cell and Harry closed his eyes again, keeping them shut as another bout of heavy coughing forced its way through his throat, leaving it raw and aching. He shivered again as another chill passed over his body. The sheet he had been using was crumpled up in front of his feet, Harry having switched between wrapping it around him and then desperately flinging it off when he rapidly transitioned from too cold to too warm. He wanted the sheet again now, but he was so drained that sitting up to grab it seemed equivalent to scaling a wall. He could summon the sheet with his wand, which lie under the pillow beneath him. Yet, even lifting his head and reaching his hand up to grab the wand felt like too strenuous a task. Moving at all was just out of the question right now, so Harry merely scrunched his body into an even tighter ball as he shivered, his hands clutching his arms as tightly as he could manage.

A few minutes later, a light weight settled over Harry, providing immediate relief. He instinctively grasped for it to pull it more tightly to his body, his fingers closing around the sheet like it was the only thing tethering him to the earth. He opened his eyes as he realized someone had lain the sheet over him and saw that Hershel had returned.

Hershel offered a reassuring smile as he kneeled next to Harry, grunting slightly as he bent his knees. He had a water bottle in one hand and placed his other hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I'm gonna need you to sit up now, Harry," he said gently. "We gotta get some water in you."

Harry closed his eyes again and shook his head. "I'm fine."

Hershel sighed, but there was a low chuckle in it that made Harry open his eyes again in confusion. "I suppose I should be grateful it's you who's sick and not your godfather. As stubborn as you are, I have a feeling he would be worse."

Harry couldn't help his lip twitching in amusement as he tried to imagine Hershel tending to a sick Sirius. He then felt bad at the thought of giving Hershel a hard time when the man was already up to his elbows in responsibility right now, risking his own safety to take care of everyone else. Not wanting to make things more difficult for him, Harry slowly started sitting up, taking the process in steps. He lifted his head, paused to rest, propped his forearms against the mattress, paused again, and then pushed himself up into a sitting position, breathing heavily from the effort. Hershel held a hand against Harry's back to help support him until Harry was able to shift so that his back could rest against the wall. His eyes twinkling appreciatively, Hershel unscrewed the cap of the water bottle and brought it up to Harry's lips. Harry took the bottle away from him to hold himself, even though his hands were shaking. He needed to have some dignity.

It wasn't until the first two sips passed down his throat that Harry realized how thirsty he truly was, and before he knew it, he was chugging, the water soothing on his sore throat.

"Take it easy now," Hershel said. "Too much too fast will make you worse."

Harry nodded, reluctantly pulling the bottle away from his mouth after draining half of it, taking a deep gulp of air instead. He was surprised that he already felt stronger and sharper. He brought his eyes to Hershel's again, hoping they conveyed his sincerity. "Thank you."

"Thank you for drinking," Hershel smiled pointedly at him. He moved backward and repositioned himself so that he was sitting on the floor instead of kneeling. He removed a small bottle of hand sanitizer from his pocket, squeezed some into his palms, and, eyes down, began massaging it into his hands. "There's something important I've been meaning to address to the Council."

Harry tensed slightly, immediately anticipating bad news. He sighed internally, not sure how much more he could take.

Hershel continued. "Since Glenn and Sasha are the only other Council members in here, I discussed the matter with them." He brought his eyes back up to Harry, who was taken aback by the mischievous glint in them. "From now on, Tuesdays are Spaghetti Tuesdays. We need to have something everyone looks forward to, something regular, and what more is there to look forward to than spaghetti?"

Harry's brain felt slow as he processed that Hershel, instead of delivering bad news, was making a joke, the corners of his lips pulled up in a playful smirk. The thought of spaghetti didn't even disturb his now subsiding nausea as Harry grinned and snorted at the absurdity of discussing such a trivial concept while most of their community was cripplingly sick. It sent a warmth through him as if he had just taken a spoonful of fast-acting medicine. His appreciation for Hershel increased tenfold.

"That's a brilliant idea," Harry said hoarsely.

He took another drink of water, making a point to take his gulps in more slowly. Hershel stood with a groan, stretching a little. "All right, I'm gonna go check—"

A scream cut the air from outside the cell, the sound reverberating off the walls. It was followed by a loud, echoing clang and then a familiar growl. Hershel's brow immediately creased. He began reaching for a gun that was holstered to his waist.

Harry pushed himself to his feet as quickly as he could, swaying slightly as dark spots briefly dotted his vision before fading. Once the wave of dizziness passed, he reached under his pillow for his wand.

Hershel, who had been taking steps to leave Harry's cell, paused mid-stride and pointed a finger at him. "Stay here. You need to rest."

Trying to avoid speaking so he could conserve his energy, Harry merely shook his head, fixing Hershel with a hard stare before moving past him, wand raised. He could hear Hershel sigh frustratedly behind him as he followed.

Harry wouldn't fight Hershel about general care for while he was ill, but sick or not, there was no way he was letting Hershel take on whatever threat was arising in the cell block on his own.

Daryl glanced at Bob, who was holding the list of what medicine they needed to collect. They were now in the veterinary college, scouring the classrooms and labs, opening cabinets and drawers to see if they had antibiotics. Daryl's heartbeat had accelerated in excitement, glad to be successfully finding what they were looking for, what would help their people recover. Bob repeated what was specifically listed at intervals, but said to grab "anything ending in 'cillin.'" A lot of the vials Daryl checked were meeting that requirement, so he stuffed them in his bag. Bob explained that even if those medicines weren't on the list they brought, they would be invaluable to have for situations down the road.

He had a surge of appreciation for Bob, knowing how much more confused he and the others would be without him. Finding everything would be a significantly slower process with a lot of double checking. The print on everything was so small that each vial had to be picked up and held close to read the label, as opposed to simply scanning a row of shelved vials before spotting a target.

When they had made their stop last night to rest until morning, Sirius and Tyreese sitting outside while Daryl and Bob stayed in the car, Bob had confessed to Daryl that the shelf in the Big Spot had fallen because he'd tried to grab a bottle of booze and the motion had unsteadied the shelf. Daryl had told him that the resulting disaster of Walkers falling through the ceiling wasn't his fault. One simple movement or another was going to bring the roof down on them at some point while they were there. Bob had then explained that he'd wanted the booze for when things "got quiet." He had been the last man standing of two different groups before Daryl, Glenn, and Sirius had found him. It was clear that Bob was haunted by seeing everyone around him die not just once, but twice, and Daryl didn't blame him for needing to escape from that. He also made sure to emphasize to Bob that he wouldn't have to experience that anymore now that he was with them. Their group was strong, resilient, and loyal to each other. Daryl couldn't promise that some of them wouldn't fall along the way, but he knew in his heart that the bulk of his people would survive.

He now understood why Bob had come across as so obnoxiously positive. The man needed to push forward and have hope. Last night, he had shown Daryl a vulnerability that revealed he was actually close to a ledge at all times, using hope and positivity to claw his way back. It became clear to him that if Bob dared to dwell in darkness for even a short while, he might fall off that ledge to be lost forever. It gave Daryl a new respect for him as he watched the former army medic moving about so energized, loudly leading the rest of them in their search for antibiotics.

The four of them came together when they were certain they collectively had everything needed and then some. Triumph was coursing through Daryl as they moved through the hallway on their way out. They would be back at the prison by tomorrow morning at the latest, but maybe even sooner. He was perfectly willing to power through any exhaustion to drive all night if it meant getting these antibiotics into their people sooner. Then everyone could recover and this nightmare would be over. They could get block D clean and habitable again, take time to have proper funerals for those who had died, figure out who killed Zach and Ryan and bring them to justice, and get life back to as close to normal as anyone could get in their world. No more paranoia, no more devastation, no more constant exhaustion. Daryl found himself taking a leaf out of Bob's book of optimism and decided he was perfectly okay with that.

The unmistakable sound of Walker growls ahead grabbed their attention. Daryl went ahead of the group, holding a hand up to indicate to hang back. He peered around the corner of the hallway they wanted to go down only to see several Walkers ambling their way from it.

The group hurried in the only other available direction and went through a door to what seemed to be a small hallway, full of crates and cages of various sizes stacked along the walls. There was no light, so everyone held their flashlights aloft. Sirius muttered something and the light being emitted from his wand grew brighter.

From behind Daryl, Bob said, "Hey! Door's busted."

Bob and Tyreese began stacking cages against the door as Walker growls came closer from the other side. Seeing that they had managed to barricade it well enough for now, Daryl pressed forward, Sirius next to him.

Both of their lights landed on a set of chained double doors that were trapping possibly even more Walkers than the number behind them. Focusing their lights on the gap between the doors, they could see that there were blood trails like the ones Patrick and Charlie had had on the Walkers that were within their sight, their decaying hands reaching through the gap.

Daryl abruptly turned around at an increase in commotion behind him to see that the Walkers they had been trying to ditch were starting to budge the door they had tried to barricade. He clenched his teeth. They had to pick one way or the other.

Motioning at the Walkers behind the double doors ahead of them, Tyreese said, "We can take 'em!"

"No!" Bob immediately exclaimed. "They're infected, same as at the prison. We fire at 'em, get their blood on us, breathe it in—we didn't come all this way to get sick!"

Pointing behind them, the way they'd come from, Tyreese said, "How do we know the ones in there aren't any different?"

"We don't," Sirius said grimly.

"Well it's gotta change sometime," said Daryl, knowing they needed to take some kind of action and take it quickly.

"Open the doors. I'll take care of it."

Daryl caught Sirius' eye and saw the firm determination in them, telling him that his friend truly had a handle on the situation and wasn't just being cocky. Daryl nodded and broke the chains.

Sirius yelled a spell and the Walkers at the front of the oncoming cluster went flying backward. He repeated the same spell, knocking the Walkers back in waves, making some of the ones in front collide with the ones farther ahead and sending them all flying back like bowling pins. Now that they had space between them, Daryl and Sirius both then began to shoot at the Walkers as they returned to their feet. Tyreese hung back a little to drive his hammer into the Walkers that had started spilling through the first door before catching up with Daryl, Sirius, and Bob.

They managed to clear the hallway rather quickly and jogged through it to go through another door, where there was a stairwell. They hurried up the stairs and came out another door into a different hallway, only to find more infected Walkers coming to greet them. Sirius used the same spell as before to send them flying backward, but there wasn't as far for them to be sent as there had been with the hallway below them. Sirius then used one of his other spells to slow them down, buying them time. Daryl could see the conflict in Sirius' eyes as he raised his wand again to send fatal attacks at the Walkers, only to bare his teeth in a frustrated snarl and stop himself. There wasn't much room here and whatever Sirius tried would more than likely result in infectious blood spattering back at them.

The four of them all whipped around to see nothing but a window in the opposite direction.

"No exit," Tyreese breathed fearfully.

Daryl wasn't fazed. There was no way he was going to let anything, least of all a lack of doors, stop him from getting these medications home to their people. Glancing around and thinking quickly, he pointed at the window and said, "Then we'll make one."

Sirius nodded and moved closer to the window, calling, "Stay back!" before firing a spell at it and blasting it open. Tyreese went through the window first, hoisting himself over the ledge and then jumping a small gap to land on a raised walkway. Sirius went next, then Daryl. When Daryl turned around, Bob was coming through the window. Bob jumped, but when he landed on the walkway, he fell forward, his arms dangling off the edge of the walkway, clutching his bag below him, where a crowd of Walkers were gathered and reaching up toward him.

The Walkers grabbed at the bag and pulled, but Bob pulled back. He was in a position where he was perfectly capable of standing back up and rejoining the group. All he had to do was let go of the bag. Daryl hurried toward him with the others, mentally assessing how much medicine the rest of them had and knowing they had more than enough if Bob lost what he had collected.

All three of them barked at Bob to let it go, yet he still struggled to hold onto it. Daryl respected the man's determination not to lose any of their antibiotics, but unless Bob got the bag back up soon, both the bag and Bob would be dragged down to the Walkers.

Sirius yelled another spell and the bag zoomed out of both the Walkers' and Bob's hands and into his own. Bob quickly stood, Daryl and Tyreese both pulling him away from the ledge. Once sure everyone was safely standing on the walkway, Daryl looked over at Sirius, who was looking down at Bob's bag with a furrowed brow. He reached his hand inside and removed a bottle of booze, and then sifted his hand through the rest of the bag without pulling anything else out.

Stony faced, Sirius looked up, eyes filled with rage as they fixed on Bob. "This is the only thing in the bag," he growled. "No medicine."

Sirius strode forward aggressively, in a way Daryl recognized as one preceding an act of violence. Daryl, his own heart pounding with ire and adrenaline, put a hand on Sirius' chest to stop him and held his other hand out to take the bottle. Sirius scowled at Bob for another moment before, eyes never leaving the man, he handed the bottle to Daryl.

Confident enough that Sirius wasn't going to take things any further, Daryl removed his hand from his chest and lifted the booze closer to his own face to get a better look at it.

And he had thought Bob was a good man, a respectable man, always eager to help.

Yet all he'd come with them for was a goddamn drink.

Daryl could feel his whole body vibrating with anger. He was pissed at Bob for fooling him and he was perhaps even more pissed at himself for falling for it. He stared at Bob, who looked back with a face full of fear and shame.

All Daryl wanted to do right then was hurt him, cause him pain for caring about his own vices instead of all the people back home who were suffering and possibly dying. Lathering up as much venom in his voice as he could muster, Daryl spat, "You should have kept walking that day."

He turned away from Bob to face the edge of the walkway, loading his arm to throw the bottle of booze out among the crowd of Walkers.

Perhaps it was desperation. Perhaps it was reflex. But Bob uttered a soft, pleading, "Don't," while his hand twitched toward the gun holstered to his waist, his hand settling atop the handle.

Daryl immediately retracted his arm. He thought he had been pissed a minute ago. It was nothing to how furious he was now. He had been pushing through so much stress throughout this whole flu situation and doing his best to be a leader for others, trying so hard to set aside his own anxiety and grief to give others hope. He had set aside his anger for whoever had killed Zach and Ryan before even giving them a chance to recover so that he could tackle this mission and fix things instead of making them worse. And this asshole had the audacity to not only have an attitude of "Fuck everyone else. I need to escape my own feelings," but he didn't have enough shame to stop himself from trying to hang on to his source of escape, even going so far as to be willing to attack Daryl for it.

Daryl couldn't remember the last time he had been this enraged. Sure, he had been angry when Sirius had hit him and fought with him, but he'd understood where Sirius was coming from, which was ultimately a place of caring. Daryl could forgive it all because Sirius had been pissed about the same things Daryl was pissed about and just needed to release it. Hell, Daryl had found his own release in their fight even though he hadn't lost his control the way Sirius had.

Bob had put on a show. He'd acted like he was here to help, when in reality, he had only been there for himself the whole time. If he had at least also had antibiotics in his bag instead of just the alcohol, Daryl could have forgiven the discretion, could even have sympathized.

But that wasn't the case.

Daryl quickly closed the space between himself and Bob so that there was no space left at all, shoving his face into the other man's so that his forehead pressed against Bob's. His breath came out in grunts as he tried to contain himself, becoming even angrier when Bob kept his eyes down, refusing to look at him. If the man was going to threaten him with a gun, he'd better have the balls to look Daryl in the eye.

Daryl clenched his teeth so hard that his whole jaw trembled in an effort to restrain his anger. He reached down to remove Bob's gun from the holster and then shoved his forehead against Bob's with even more force, causing the man to step back a little. Daryl refused to let him have that space. He didn't deserve it. Feeling like his whole body would explode if he didn't hurt the man before him, Daryl trembled more violently and grabbed the front of Bob's shirt, his breath coming in and out more harshly, wanting nothing more than to toss him off the walkway and feed him to the Walkers below. Their growls didn't even register to Daryl's brain anymore, nor did the voices of the people behind him telling him to let it go. He could physically hear them, but there was a delay before he was able to absorb the words.

He finally registered Tyreese saying, "Nothing you can do about it. Just gotta let it go."

It was the last thing Daryl wanted to do, but he knew Tyreese was right. They needed to press forward and complete their mission. Any more time wasted on Bob would be nothing short of a disservice to those back home who were counting on them.

Reluctantly, Daryl released him, still staring daggers at him, but allowing some modicum of space between them.

Eyes still downcast, voice shaking, Bob said, "I didn't want to hurt nobody…It was just for when it gets quiet."

That didn't assuage Daryl by any means. Maybe Bob didn't want to hurt anyone, but he also hadn't cared enough to help anyone either. Daryl pressed the bottle against Bob's chest and held it there, pushing his forehead against Bob's again.

His voice deadly quiet, Daryl growled, "You take on sip before those meds get into our people, I will beat your ass into the ground. You hear me?"

He pushed the bottle into Bob's hands, pushing himself away from him by extension, turned, hefted his own bag, and stalked off along the walkway, past Sirius and Tyreese. In that moment, he felt capable of killing someone, and when his goal was to save lives, the last thing he wanted to do was take one.

But he would if he had to.

Sirius had been irate when Bob's bag landed in his hands with a soft clink, the thud of something relatively hard smacking into his palms. He'd found that odd, since all of the vials of medicine had been quite small. So he'd opened the top of the bag to quickly see the neck of a bottle of booze poking out. Okay, fine, but when he looked further in, seeing there were no antibiotics in with it, he thought he was going to snap.

His godson was waiting on medicine, was potentially at risk of dying without it, and Bob had only bothered to collect some alcohol for his own self-indulgence?

Sirius knew he would be a hypocrite to criticize the man for using alcohol as a vice. It was something Sirius found helpful for taking the edge off as well, and there were definitely times he had abused it, especially while confined to Grimmauld Place.

But he had never allowed it to endanger anyone, never prioritized it over someone else's life. Even when he and James had driven his motorcycle while drunk, Sirius had preemptively made sure they enacted their shenanigans where no one else would be around, only putting themselves in danger, which was their prerogative.

Sirius' head had clouded with rage for a moment, striding toward Bob before being fully aware of doing so. He hadn't been surprised when Daryl had stopped him. It had even reminded him of times where James or Remus had done the same thing when Sirius was about to lose his temper.

What had surprised him, and also pulled him out of his own anger to a degree, was Daryl's response to the whole situation. Daryl had clearly been as livid as Sirius, perhaps even a little more, but when Bob had protested to Daryl tossing the booze, his hand reaching for his gun, Daryl had become the embodiment of rage. It gave Sirius enough pause to both revere and fear Daryl, seeing his capacity for not only violence, but control of such violence. He had already known that Daryl had been restraining himself when Sirius had lost his shit and punched him. Even when Daryl had pinned him and landed multiple blows to Sirius' face in a row, there had been no doubt in Sirius' mind that Daryl could stop whenever he was ready.

To Sirius, that was more formidable than the type of anger he himself possessed. He was explosive, lacking in control. It was helpful in the sense that no longer caring about any consequences allowed him to go beyond whatever limits he needed to, but sometimes Sirius scared himself because he felt like someone else was taking over his mind and body, like he was watching himself from the outside as he oozed nothing but destruction. There were times where a small voice inside him would yell to stop what he was doing, but that voice was never strong enough, always overridden by his temper. Then, after whatever chaos he had committed, he would return to himself and survey the damage he had done as if he'd just arrived there, sometimes perturbed by the results.

That lack of control made him weak, malleable. Not like Daryl.

Daryl had a temper, sure. Sirius had seen so himself, had even been on the receiving end of it. But Daryl knew how to take charge of it. He could wield his anger effectively, and even if he couldn't do magic, that, in Sirius' mind, made Daryl more dangerous than he could ever dream to be.

Sirius had watched with both awe and a savage sort of hunger as Daryl dealt with Bob. Even though he himself was furious over Bob's betrayal, especially regarding its potential impact on Harry, he was perfectly fine with backing off to let Daryl take charge. Sirius was a great sidekick, but he knew he didn't quite have that stability that was required for true leadership the way that James had and Daryl did.

They had walked the few miles back to the car in silence other than occasional muttered directions of "here" or "that way." The first stretch of the car ride back to the prison went the same way. Daryl didn't fiddle with the radio and Sirius wasn't in the mood to put in a CD.

The hiccup with Bob aside, Sirius felt good. He was excited to get home and get his godson back to good health. According to Hershel, these antibiotics were the most surefire way to help everyone recover. Knowing that, that their mission had solid weight to it and wasn't just based on a hopeful hunch, bolstered Sirius' spirits even more.

It had only been under forty-eight hours since leaving the prison, yet Sirius longed to see his godson, to see with his own eyes that he was alive. He knew in his heart that Harry was too strong and resilient to let something like this take him down, but that didn't stop Sirius from being worried. It was different now than when they'd gone months without seeing each other, when Sirius usually knew Harry was relatively safe at Hogwarts or with the Weasleys. And while he hadn't liked when Harry was at Privet Drive, knowing his aunt and uncle didn't care for him, he knew he was mostly safe thanks to Lily's protection.

He knew he still had quite a few hours before they were back at the prison, so Sirius took a deep breath in and out, trying to make himself relax even though his mind was buzzing, his foot tapping with restless energy. Tyreese was asleep in the back seat, head tilted back and mouth agape as he snored softly. Bob had his head pressed against the window, eyelids heavy, but open, staring out unseeingly. He didn't even seem like he was mentally present.

Eventually, Sirius decided he needed distraction, so he cleared his throat and looked at Daryl, whose eyes were firmly fixed to the road. "So…you and Carol…you fancy her?"

Daryl blinked several times as he apparently seemed to register Sirius' words. "The hell you talking about?"

Sirius gave a lazy half shrug and leaned back, putting his feet on the dashboard again. "Seems like there's something there, is all."

Daryl grunted in what Sirius recognized to be amusement. "Ain't like that. We're just good friends." He glanced at Sirius with a light smirk. "Why? You bored of Michonne?"

Sirius snorted. "I don't think being bored of Michonne is even remotely possible."

Daryl glanced at Sirius again, this time with an earnest curiosity. "Ya really like her, don't ya?"

"Course I do." Sirius scoffed. "Just wish she'd give it a rest with this Governor twat and come back already."

"Yeah…I do too."

Sirius lifted his head up and cast a sharp look Daryl's way, taken aback. "You do?"

"Yeah. I want him dead as much as she does. Hell, if I knew for sure where he was, I'd go with her to help. Just don't think it's worth the hassle if he's far enough away not to be a problem."

Sirius laughed quietly. "I don't think you want him dead as much as she does."

Daryl's fingers flexed on the wheel. "I do."

It was subtle, but Sirius could see a silent anger roll through Daryl. It piqued his curiosity. "What'd he do to you that he hasn't done to Michonne or Maggie or Glenn?"

Daryl remained stoic and silent for a moment, a quiet contemplation behind his eyes. "Killed my brother."

Sirius stared at him, taken aback. He'd known Daryl's brother had died not too long ago. No one had ever mentioned that the Governor was involved, though. Daryl certainly never talked about it. "I'm sorry, mate."

Daryl sighed and shook his head dismissively. "The dumbass brought it on himself. He was basically the Governor's henchman until he decided he wanted nothing to do with him no more. Lived his whole life looking out for number one…then died ambushing the Governor and his people when they were coming for us. It bought us time, lessened their numbers, gave us a chance. His last act was the one real good thing he ever did."

Hearing this was somewhat surreal to Sirius, who was thinking of his own brother, Regulus. Similarly, Regulus had followed the wrong person and then died after deciding he wanted out. Although, there wasn't any evidence that Regulus' change of heart had anything to do with helping anyone else or doing the right thing. From what Sirius knew, his brother had merely let his fear get the best of him. Learning that Daryl had had such a similar experience with his brother both saddened and comforted Sirius. He cleared his throat. "I'm guessing he was the younger one."

"Nah. Older."

Sirius arched a brow at that. Daryl seemed to have the sort of authoritative and confident demeanor of being the older brother. "Really? Would have pegged you for older."

"Why's that?"

"You just…" Sirius felt himself stiffen with discomfort. He looked out the window to avoid Daryl's gaze. "Younger brothers don't usually share the same sense of certainty as you, I reckon."

Daryl was quiet for a moment before responding. "I used to follow Merle around everywhere, do whatever he said. Then all this shit happened and…well, things changed, I guess. Thought he was dead for a while before he actually was. In that time, with him gone, I started seeing I could offer more to people, and it felt good…being useful, contributing. Before that, though…I really didn't think for myself much. Didn't speak up if I thought what Merle was doing was wrong, just went along with it because he was my brother, and I thought 'family was family,' or some shit. Now I know family's who means somethin' to ya more than just blood."

Sirius kept his gaze out the window, thinking about how he had learned the same thing, even if in a rather different way. He had grown up feeling alone and longing to belong, not finding that sense of belonging until his friendship with the other Marauders had grown. He had found that James and Remus (as well as Peter, but he wasn't currently including him after his betrayal) had felt more like brothers to him than Regulus ever had. After a while, Lily had become like a sister. James' parents had loved Sirius more than his own parents ever had. After Hogwarts, the Order had then become like a little makeshift family. Watching Regulus become more ingrained into the traditional Black ideologies and eventually become a Death Eater had still been heartbreaking, and Sirius had made efforts to talk to his biological brother, to convince him that he was going down the wrong path, but Regulus had been adamant that he didn't want to outcast himself the way Sirius had, and that Orion and Walburga knew what they were talking about, whereas Sirius was just immature and rebellious. Even now, Sirius sometimes still felt guilty that he hadn't been able to convince Regulus to deviate from following Voldemort, even though he wasn't sure what else he truly could have done. A part of him still felt that, as the older brother, it had been his responsibility to watch out for Regulus, and that he'd failed spectacularly.

"Take it you're an older brother then?" Daryl eventually said, breaking Sirius from his reverie.

Sirius removed his gaze from the window to look at his friend. "Hm?"

"Way you're talkin' about it…sounds like you had a brother too."

"Oh…ah, yeah, I did." Sirius hesitated a moment, but he was getting the impression that if anyone from the prison could understand his situation, Daryl would. "Remember me telling you about the Death Eaters? Voldemort's followers?"

"Yeah…"

"Yeah, well…my brother became one of them."

Sirius looked away again, too ashamed to bare any disgust that Daryl's features may show. Daryl took a few seconds before saying, "That's rough, man. I know how that feels, seeing your own brother workin' for the bad guy."

Sirius leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes. "Yeah…you were the younger one, though. It wasn't your responsibility the way it was mine. I should have been able to talk sense into him and I couldn't."

"Hey." Daryl nudged Sirius' arm, and Sirius forced himself to look at his friend, who was looking at him with nothing but kindness and understanding. "Don't matter if you were older or younger. Sometimes people gotta make their own way to figure out what they're really doing."

"Even if they end up getting killed for it?"

Daryl looked back at the road, but Sirius could see the pensiveness in his eyes. "Yeah," he eventually sighed. "Even then."

The two of them remained silent for a while after that, both of them lost in thought, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. In fact, it was one that felt more intimate, one that could only be shared between two close friends. Sirius thought more about Regulus, wondering if there was any way he would have backed out sooner, but knowing that ultimately Daryl was right. Regulus had been so convinced that what their parents wanted was the right thing that it would have taken more than anything Sirius could say to persuade him otherwise.

After some hours, when night had fallen and they were nearing the last stretch of their trip home, Sirius had noticed Daryl struggling to keep his eyes open and offered to drive the rest of the way.

Daryl had looked at him somewhat skeptically. "You know how?"

Shrugging, Sirius replied, "I've been watching. Seems easier than a motorcycle. One pedal is gas, one is brakes. Pretty sure I can handle it."

So Daryl conceded and they pulled over to switch seats. At this point, Bob was now asleep, and Tyreese had roused momentarily at the sound of car doors opening and closing before promptly falling back asleep. Sirius took the first minute of driving slowly to make sure he had the hang of it. Once he realized it was, in fact, easier than operating a motorcycle, he sped up the car and offered Daryl a reassuring nod. Daryl nodded in return and then fell asleep himself only moments later.

Sirius knew he should have been tired, but his brain was still too wired, anxious to get the medicine home. With his window half open, the steady whoosh of cool air filled him with peace, as did the sight of the stars passing overhead. The only obstacles in the road were the occasional abandoned car, though they were usually to the side of the road rather than in the immediate way. Something about everyone else in the car being asleep also filled him with a sense of tranquility that he could only attribute to knowing his family trusted him, that he was able to take care of them. He couldn't even bring himself to be angry with Bob anymore, understanding how the world they lived in could drive a generally kind, thoughtful person to have a lapse of selfishness in the interest of mental salvation. If alcohol had been available in Azkaban, Sirius never would have been sober during his imprisonment.

It was about four in the morning, the dark sky lightening in a subtle way that could only be recognized by someone who had been awake through the whole night as well, when everyone else in the car started to stir. They were just a couple of miles from the prison. They would be back in just a few minutes. Sirius would get to see Harry, get to give him his antibiotics, get to give everyone else medicine too so that this whole flu nightmare would be over. He couldn't help the excitement fluttering through him.

About a mile away from the prison, the sky caught Sirius' attention in a more troubling way. At first glance, he thought he was just seeing the various glowing shades of an encroaching dawn, but the reason the light had caught his eye in the first place was because it was nothing near the normal colors painted in the transition from night to day.

There should not have been any green.

Sirius found himself slowing the car as he leaned over the steering wheel, his neck craning to peer through the windshield properly. Not too far ahead, there was a distinctly green tint to the sky glowing through the trees.

"The hell's that?" Daryl muttered.

Knowing that he wasn't the only one seeing it twisted Sirius' stomach into an even tighter knot as he realized he had been hoping to be imagining it. He tried to think of what it could be until there was a gap in the treetops and the source of the green glow became apparent, causing Sirius to slam on the brakes.

He didn't even register the curses everyone issued at the jolt of the car coming to an abrupt stop, his heart jumping into his throat and his blood turning cold in horror as he stared up at the sky.

"Sirius…what's going on?" Daryl asked from next to him, his voice heavy with concern.

Sirius couldn't answer as his breath stopped, clutched in his chest as if his body recognized it was on limited supply. All he could do was stare at the sight above him, one he hadn't seen in over fourteen years.

The Dark Mark.

Author's note: So I re-watched the Walking Dead Bad Lip Reading videos for the first time in years while writing this chapter, and it definitely had me cackling to myself for certain parts.

"Man, that was MY apple!"

"Well, he found it."

Also, I hated how the OotP movie handled the scene with Voldy possessing Harry. The whole "YoU dOn'T kNoW lOvE oR fRiEnDsHiP" line was so cheesy, whereas book Harry thinking about how if Voldy killed him he'd get to be with Sirius again was just more real and powerful. HOWEVER, I did like the "You will lose everything" line from Voldy in the movie, so I thought it'd be cool to include that. Just wanted to clarify.

Anyway, next chapter is going to be a doozy. Like...you guys might end up wanting to throw shit at me. Y'all do what ya gotta do. Things are about to get spicy.