Piranha

by ThomE.Gemcity-06

AU/canon-divergences Maggie has a twin brother named Marshall. /"If this were a movie, this would be the part where we tell you to keep this to yourself or I'll push you off the edge of the hayloft and let the piranha keep your silence. I know from experience that it's hard to hear you scream from back at the farmhouse."/WARNINGS:violence/blood&gore/SophiaLives/eventual slash/

9. Chapter 9: Reunion

Sorry for the delay. Fanfiction was down when I tried to upload last week, but here is the next chapter!

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Start: May-16-2024
Finish: July-10-2024
Word Count: 31,937

a/n:

Whew! Sorry for the wait. (I've been distracted binging The Haunting of Hill House fics instead of writing/ plus heat waves just make me want to be a blob LOL)

Yay, we're back to writing in large group settings. Yay... I'm excited, I swear. I have ideas/scenes I want/can do now that we're back with the Group that will either be fun little bits or foreshadowing (dun dun dun) for the future (when I get there in a few years LOL just kidding but probably not. I mean's its been a year, we're only 9 chapters in, and on Season 3. Spoiler: I have plans/ideas for the Negan/Saviours Era, so we'll see if those ever see the light of day.

Anyway... Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Summary: /Marshall didn't know how to answer./

Chapter Includes/Spoilers/WARNINGS: canon-typical violence, blood & gore, angst, piranha action,

...The walking DEAD...

Piranha

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Chapter 9: Reunion

T-Dog stilled in the doorway, freezing under the intense scrutiny of all the eyes in the room. "Uh, yo." He uttered awkwardly. "Just me. Sorry, didn't, uh, mean to startle y'all- Whoa!" Athena barked and bolted out the front door between his legs.

"Athena!" Beth didn't even pause for a moment before she ran out after the Belgian Malinois, pushing passed the man blocking the door. No hesitation, no other weapon but the KBAR strapped to her thigh and the Berretta at the small of her back.

"Damn, girl." T-Dog muttered, rubbing his sore shoulder.

"Beth!" Maggie shouted after her sister to no effect. "Damn it!" She cursed and ran out after her little sister without a glance at anyone else. T-Dog managed to jump out of the doorway and out of the woman's way, knowing Maggie would go right through him if he stood in the way between her and her sister, even if on accident.

.

Marshall had heard the barking first and his knees nearly gave out on him then and there. It almost felt like a dream and he knew he was staring at the hunter from the corner of his eye almost as much as Sophia had just blatantly been watching him. But the barking continued and it continued to draw closer still. He managed to set Sophia down on her feet, shove a tense and guarded Marshmallow into an unsuspecting Daryl's arms, and dropped to his knees as he tossed aside his pack.

Athena was like a heat-seeking missile locked on target. Dull nails throwing up dirt behind her as she full-on tackled him in the chest like he was an enemy combatant. He met it with open-arms and instead of tearing his throat out, his face was slathered in slobbery doggy-kisses. "Oh, my sweet girl, I missed you, too."

"Marshall!?" The sob tore from Beth's throat almost painfully. She didn't slow down either and tackled the man the rest of the way into the dirt. "Marshall." She couldn't form anymore words, so overwhelmed, so she simply buried her face in his neck and cried.

"Yeah. It's me, Sunny. It's me." His arm tightened around her fiercely, tears dampening her hair as he pressed several smooches to her crown.

Maggie skidded, her knees faltered as she laid eyes on her twin. Wet green-eyes met hers through a screen of blond hair.

"Hey," He croaked.

The sound of his voice knocked her to her knees, tears streaming down her face. "Hey? You fucking asshole. What took you so long?" She didn't wait for an answer before she collapsed on top of them. She cried into his chest as he managed to press a kiss to her head, arms wrapped around the three of them tightly.

.

"T-Dog?" Rick pressed, drawing the man's attention from watching the two Greenes disappear around the bend in the dirt drive (which was honestly just a dirt road hemmed in closely by wildlife), his shoulders slumped as the weight settled back on him heavier now. "What's going on?"

T-Dog's expression lightened as he turned his initial attention back onto the group. "Y'all are gonna wanna check this out." It been months since they'd seen the gap between his front teeth.

"T-Dog," Carol sighed in mild frustration. "Just tell us what's going on."

"Y'all-" He tsked. "Y'all are no fun anymore. You would already know if you'd just listen to me. Daryl's back."

"Is he hurt?" Hershel questioned, joining the others in the living room.

"I wouldn't this excited if he were." T pointed out. "Let's just say his little hunting trip was a success and he's got a pretty big haul. Gonna need a bit of a hand bringing it in."

"Deer?" Carl perked up from beside his mother.

"Y'all, just get your asses outside. You're making this more difficult than it needs to be. Carol, I think you're going to enjoy this the most."

"Me?" Carol repeated. "Because I was looking forward to spending all night carving into dead animals?"

"Hey, that just means we're eatin' good." He countered. "Now, would y'all please just get your difficult white-asses out there? I'm gonna grab Glenn." T-Dog weaved through them to head to the back of the house before they could argue more. Talk about making a mountain out of a mole hill.

"T-Dog!" Rick called after him but the man ignored him.

"Better do what the man says before he comes back waving a broom around." Lori said.

Rick glanced at her, but said nothing before his blue-gaze dropped to his son. "Watch out for your mother, son."

Carl didn't bother to try and protest about being told to stick close to his mom, like he was told to do 98% of the time, just nodded, glad his dad was letting him come out of the house even though it was safe to greet Daryl. His torn comic book lay abandoned on the mattress, his hand instead resting on the butt of the silenced pistol in the holster on his hip—just in case. The brown brimmed Sherriff's Deputy hat making him look more dangerous than childish.

Rick stepped out the door and down the front step, the others shuffling out after, naturally on guard. They could hear Athena barking in the distance with excited yips.

"Y'all ain't gonna find nothing standing around back here." T-Dog said upon his return with a baffled Glenn in tow. "Where's that broom I thought I heard you mention, Lori?" He said wryly to the pregnant woman.

"What's with the parade?" Glenn questioned. "T said Daryl was back but won't tell me anything else." He only got shrugs in answer.

"Why ruin the surprise? A good surprise." T-Dog corrected. "You're gonna be so upset with yourselves when you realize how much you delayed this."

Rick gave him an assessing look, T-Dog stared back, eyebrow raised and arms folded over his chest. He said nothing but turned back around and started down the drive, his bow-legged stride confident, his hand on his Colt Python to keep it from bouncing in the holster against his thigh.

Carl wanted to run and catch up to his dad but made himself match his mom's slower waddle as Carol, Hershel, and Glenn pulled ahead. T-Dog stayed at the rear, keeping an eye out for any walkers that may want to crash their surprise party because he knew in a minute everyone was gonna be pretty distracted.

Rick stopped short nearly as soon as he rounded the curve in the drive at the sight before him—the most amazing and stunning thing. There Daryl stood with a- with a cat squirming in his arms, but more than that a familiar girl at his side, both watching a puppy pile between the three Greene siblings.

"Whoa!" Glenn uttered, taking Hershel's arm to keep him steady when the old man wavered at his side at the sight of his long-lost son. "Hershel?" Hershel silently shook his head, his gaze never leaving his children, but he didn't shake the young man who was basically already in son-in-law off. "Do you w-" Glenn started, looking back toward the siblings, but Hershel shook his head and just continued to watch, tears pricking his tired blue-eyes.

When Daryl noticed the others' arrival, he managed to get Marshmallow tucked up under his arm, and nudged Sophia's shoulder. The girl nearly gave herself whiplash she tore her gaze from the Greenes and up at Daryl so fast. The hunter just jerked his chin. She turned to follow it.

"Mom." She gasped quietly as she met the woman's eyes.

Carol expression was just as wide-eyed and even more shocked. "Sophia? Baby? Is that really you?"

"Mom!" The sound of her voice spurred the girl into action. She took off toward Carol, almost tripping over the fire poker swinging at her legs, but managed to catch herself just in time to crash into her mother's arms.

Carol dropped to her knees. It wasn't an explosion of emotion like it had been at the farm, just the relief was so heavy it was exhausting. They were both crying quietly, repeatedly mumbling each others' names. Sophia clung steadily to her mom, while Carol kept touching, squeezing, rubbing anything she could get her hands on, the continued need to validate if the girl in her arms was indeed solid and real.

Carl's gaze darted between the Peletier Family reunion and the Greene Family reunion. He was so happy to have his best-friend back, but he didn't want to interrupt the moment with her mom. He'd reached up subconsciously for his own mother's hand, holding tight. Lori smiled softly down at her son, squeezing his hand back, before she looked over toward her... husband. Her smile fell; his gaze as fixed on Marshall as Hershel's was.

Marshall didn't want to get up. He was more than content to stay on the cold hard ground where he was, with his arms around Beth, Maggie, and Athena. Never to let go again. The weight on his chest, the elbows in his ribs, the wet nose in his ear, the hair in his mouth—hell, even whatever the fuck he was on that was jabbing him uncomfortably in the ass—was nothing but a comfort. The presence of reality. He'd been waiting months to have this combination in his arms again. Nothing could have been better. Sophia was with her mama again, he his sisters and soul mate—except, it wasn't just he and Sophia, there were two more people waiting on them.

He heaved a sigh, his arms tightening around them. The active sobbing had quietened and now they were just happy to hold each other. He wished he didn't have to cut it short, but the sooner he went back and grabbed Michonne and Andrea, the sooner he could have them back in his arms again.

"Alright." He sputtered the hair out of his mouth. "Gotta get up." Nobody moved an inch. "I love you—but there a broken stick or something jabbing me in the ass that's starting to outweigh that fact."

Maggie scoffed, raising her face from his chest enough to look at him. "You also have to let go of us for that to work."

"I know that." It still took him a moment to force the tension from his muscles and let his arms drop away into the dirt. Maggie reluctantly sat back onto her knees, the back of her wrist wiping her nose. "Sunny." He mumbled.

"No." The teen denied, nails dug into leather as she attempted to nuzzle in further, batten her position. Her quiet, stubborn voice muffled further by his throat. "If I let go, you'll go away. This way, you have to stay."

Marshall's lips tightened and his throat constricted with emotion. Such a familiar and vivid reminder of Before. Whenever Marshall would come back home from overseas on leave, when he needed to leave again, this was Sunny's signature move in a bid to get him to stay. Oh, just an innocent goodbye hug from his cute baby sis—and then she'd cling onto him like a super-glued octopus, stubbornly attempting to keep him from leaving. Of course, it never actually succeeded, and Marshall knew it was coming every time, but he still let it happen. Absorbed every ounce of love to carry with him. Shawn was the only one that seemed to be able to get her to let him go, wherein she'd cling to him like a limpet.

Marshall inadvertently met his twin's eyes, and she frowned when she saw the guilt in the shadows of his green-eyes. Athena whined as he sat up with a grunt, forcing her to sit back from him. Beth's arms immediately snaked around his back and shoulder to better shore up her hold. "Sunny." Maggie watched wryly, not willing to help her twin in the least. He carded his fingers through her hair, squeezing the nape of her neck. "I missed you guys so much, I know me being gone Now isn't the same when I was gone Before, but I'd think of you every night and I'd look up at the stars and I would just know you were okay. Let's just call it big brother instinct. I knew you were okay and looking out for each other, looking out for me with those Goddess of Athena Tags, that any trouble you encountered you would knee straight in the balls. I know it took a bit, but I'm here. I'm here."

"I'm still not letting go." Beth mumbled petulantly.

He smiled. "Like I'd ever actually want you to."

Marshall shifted, managing to get his right knee under him. Rose onto his knee, planted his left foot. With an arm around her waist, he climbed to his feet with effort, a 120lbs. limpet hanging off his neck. Beth didn't budge. Her feet weren't even touching the ground and he wondered how low long she'd be able to hold her own weight up like that.

"Nice necklace you got there." Maggie joked, climbing to her feet.

"Thanks. It limited edition from the baby sis collection." He replied easily. "It even comes with this tickle-button."

The teen's abdominal muscles contracted in defence. "Don't tickle me!" She squealed, causing Athena to woof.

"You think I'm an idiot? I don't need you kneeing me in the junk."

"Oh, that reminds me." Beth remarked.

"What?"

"You're right. I almost forgot." Maggie nodded.

"What?" Marshall repeated.

"Don't worry about it."

He squinted suspiciously at his twin's smirk, grunting. "I feel like I should worry about it." Maggie just shrugged nonchalantly, a smug purse to her lips as she grabbed his pack and bow from the ground. "Come on, then." Marshall turned, Beth still hanging from his neck, "I'm sure the others wa-" He stopped short, staring. He knew the others were there, stayed back to let the Greene siblings have their own little private reunion same as the Peletiers, Marshall just never expected- "Daddy?" He had to look twice, his breath catching.

Beth reluctantly released her hold on her brother. Her feelings regarding their daddy ultimately didn't matter at the moment, because it wasn't about her feelings, it was about Marshall's—and it was clear he'd thought daddy had died at the farm. After that... confrontation between father and daughter at the rest stop, Hershel hadn't brought up Marshall again, and Beth stubbornly continued to barely converse with her daddy. She got her stubbornness from her daddy after all, all the Greene children did. So, in ignorance of her father, Maggie and Rick were her main authority figures in the Group and she split her time between Maggie (and Glenn because they were ultimately in attached at the hips), Carl, Rick, and even Daryl.

Marshall almost stumbled to his father, dazed. "That really you, daddy?"

Glenn stepped back from Hershel and to Maggie to give father and son space. He blinked at Daryl. "Why do you have a cat?"

"Dinner, ain't it?" He thrust the cat into Glenn's arms. "You got this, right?"

"What? No!" He exclaimed. "What?!" He struggled to hold onto the squirming, hissing cat, its claws digging into his jean jacket. "He's just joking, right? Ha ha. Daryl?! That was just a Korean joke, right?" But the hunter didn't even look back as he walked away. "Mgh."

"I would hope so—or Marshall will string him up by the balls." Maggie took the cat from her boyfriend, highly amused. Marshmallow instantly calmed in the farm girl's arms, purring as he was pet and scratched. "This looks like one of Patches' kittens."

Marshall grasped the old man's shoulder. "You're here? You're alive?" Real, solid, warm. "I thought-" He shook the thought away and hugged his father tightly. "I'm glad I was wrong." He pressed his face into Hershel's shoulder, breath hitching as he tried to swallow back a new round of tears.

Hershel hugged him, squeezing his nape. "I'm glad you're here, son."

"Me, too." Marshall sniffed, pulling back after a tighter squeeze. He gazed at his father with relief and gratefulness, taking him in. He reached slightly shaky fingers up and brushed his daddy's furred cheeks. "I almost didn't recognize you with the beard." His chuckle was a bit choked. He'd never seen his father with a beard before, every morning, without fail, he was clean shaven with a straight razor. "I really thought- How-?" He shook his head. Last he'd seen, Hershel was ready to die up on that porch.

Hershel squeezed his shoulders. "Rick got me out of there."

Marshall turned to stare at said man. Rick almost felt embarrassed under the weight of Marshall's gaze.

Rick cleared his throat. "Hey."

"Hey?" Marshall muttered. "Hey?" He repeated. "No." He shook his head. "I need more than a 'hey', Deputy."

"I-" Rick started, unsure—only for the Ranger to close the distance with 3 strides and pulled him into a bear hug, the shorter man grunted as his cowboy boot clad feet actually left the ground at the man's attention.

"Thank you. For taking care of my family. I didn't doubt for a second." Twice now, Rick had brought Hershel back home again. Marshall could never voice or show the true value of that. And to top it off, he looked out for his family the entire winter. He had missed his sisters but had never worried because he had known that Rick Grimes would look after them like they were his own, and he was right. Marshall put Rick back on his feet and pulled back, hand cupping the side of the man's stubbled neck to gaze at him. "Rick Grimes," He beamed, "Aren't a sight for sore eyes?"

"Yeah. I could say the same." Rick chuckled, grasping his arms in turn. "You're finally here." Finding no other way to convey his absolute relief at this fact, he just pulled the other man back in.

Marshall patted his back, chuckling, more than happy to accept the affection. "You got some hugs to make up for—I didn't even get one from Daryl."

"And you're lucky you didn't even try." The hunter scoffed, looking away.

"See? 4 months." Marshall pouted, propping his chin of Rick's shoulder. "4 months, I didn't get a hug, I didn't even get a 'hi' or a 'hey'." He reluctantly pulled back from the other man. "But, hey, maybe we can try it all over again after I get back?"

There was a pause. A beat of silence as the others registered his words. He got several startled and confused stares, barring Sophia who just looked worried. Beth knew she shouldn't have let him go.

"What do you mean 'after you get back'?" Rick questioned tersely for them all.

"It wasn't just Sophia, Marshmallow, and I all winter-"

"Auntie?" Beth perked up with hope.

Marshall grimaced and his expression fell with quiet devastation. "No. No. Uh, Auntie didn't make it off the farm." He swallowed. "When she- when she almost got pulled into the crowd, she was bit..."

That blood spatter on the window, bright red and human, had haunted the 16-year-old Greene, more so even than the piranha hoard that drove them all from the farm. The mystery of it—because it had to be somebody's. In the end, auntie was the best possible outcome. Not because Beth loved her any less than Marshall, or because she didn't deserve to live more than Sophia, but because, maybe in the end... it was Fate. While it wasn't okay, it was—because Patricia was together with Otis again in The Spirit in the Sky. Her husband, her best-friend, her soul mate.

"She's with Uncle O."

"Yeah." He murmured, reaching up to thumb away the tear that strayed from her eye before caressing her cheek. "They're together in the stars watching over us."

She sniffed, taking a deep breath and nodded. "Who do you need to pick-up, then?"

"Oh—Andrea."

"Andrea?!" T-Dog exclaimed, everyone else just as surprised. "She's alive? But I watched her go down, I thought-" He shook his head. "She's been with you this whole time?"

"Yup. Sophia and I ran into her in the woods." He sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Long story short, she got the fucking flu a couple weeks ago and her health declined so fast... being on the move just wasn't a viable option anymore, so, I decided it would be better to separate-"

"She sick and defenceless and you just left her?"

"What? No. Samurai-sama stayed back with her."

"The hell is that?" Daryl asked.

"Michonne." Marshall corrected. "Total badass. She saved Andrea before we found her. Decided to stick around. She stayed back to look after Andrea while me and Sophia went on to continue looking for you all and any medicine. Found you first. I promised them I'd only be gone two days, three max. It should only take me a few hours to grab 'em up and be back—if I can borrow a car?" He raised a brow at Rick.

"Of course you can use one of the cars." Rick said. "But I'm not comfortable with you going alone."

"Fair enough." Marshall agreed. "Would be nice to have a bit of back-up, just in case." Athena barked. "Uh-uh, you're staying here." The dog whined. "And don't even bother, Beth. Not happening."

The 16-year-old scowled at him. "You just got back." She frowned.

"And I'll be back again." He promised. "Promise. Here," He took off his trapper hat and pulled it down over her head snugly. "I really like that hat so I'll definitely be coming back for it."

"It's stinks." She pouted.

He chuckled. "I love you, too, Sunshine."

"I'll go." T-Dog volunteered immediately.

"I'm in." Daryl grunted.

"Me, too." Glenn added.

"Alright. Jeez. Everyone keep your pants on." Marshall spoke up before any more hats could be thrown into the ring. "I know I'm great company, but taking more than two kind of defeats the whole purpose. Gotta have room for Michonne, Andrea, and our supplies. So... play rock-paper-scissors, or something." He suggested before he turned his attention back to Rick, who was watching him with a mixture of silent amusement and worry. "Show me where the hell we are, exactly?" He pulled out a map from his inside jacket pocket. "I was kinda distracted staring- I mean, following Dixon's ass."

Overhearing, Daryl sent a scowl his way. "I'll put a bolt in your ass, you keep that up."

"Let me know first so I can take off my coat and give you a nice view- I'm mean, give you a clean shot."

"I remembered you more fondly when you were gone."

"Aw, hunter~ I also thought fondly of you, too." Marshall cooed. "I'm really starting to pick-up hug-vibes from you, Daryl."

"Try and you'll end up on your ass." He growled.

Marshall held up his hands. "I get it—you're shy." Daryl gripped the crossbow strap across his chest in silent warning. "Okay. Okay. Seriously, I'll stop now." He said seriously. "I'm just happy to see you, that's all."

Daryl eyed him through squinted blue-eyes a moment longer before dropping his hand with a grunt. "T and Glenn can go with ya—I got more huntin' that needs to be done." He tsked. "More mouths t' feed." He tossed the rope of squirrel and rabbit onto the empty bird bath for someone else to take care of, before he walked off into the woods without another word to anyone else.

Marshall frowned to himself as he watched the hunter disappear. Yeah, he knew he was coming on a little heavy, but he couldn't help it. It'd been 4 months, he was giddy, alright? He'd easily make it up to Daryl. More people might mean more mouths to feed, but it also meant more hands. It was obvious that Daryl was the main provider of fresh meat for the group still, the only silent hunter amongst them—bullets were not worth rabbit and squirrel—but now that Marshall was back with the Group, he could easily help pick up the burden of providing sustenance for 14 people.

The group either carried loud guns, or what would be considered close-combat weapons. Daryl and Marshall were the only two to carry long-range silent weapons. It could and would be more soon enough, Marshall decided.

Beth had held some interest in archery Before, not necessarily in hunting per se like her brothers with compound bow and crossbow and Marshall had been hunting around for something for Christmas—before everything happened. He was annoyed at himself he'd let this fall to the wayside. Where in a world where silence was now an apt key to survival, bows and arrows were the perfect and soon to be most coveted weapons. Bullet would run out eventually, quicker than anyone realized, without factories to manufacture them or even the knowledge to hand-make them, let alone a supply of gunpowder. Bows were silent and deadly, easy to handle and learn, with an endless supply of ammo that could be easily replenished. Maybe he and Daryl could get the whole Group to convert to bow in one form or another... but for now, he'd settle on Sunny and with Carol's input, Sophia. Sophia had already shown her excellent hand-eye coordination with that slingshot of hers, and with more practical experience, she'd be as deadly and as dangerous as Bart Simpson.

"Am I the only one that wanted to see Daryl actually play rock-paper-scissors?" Glenn piped up.

"Nah, man. Too bad, though. I still can't picture it." T-Dog clapped him on the shoulder. "What car we taking?" He asked Rick.

"The Hyundai's your best bet."

"Cool. Shotgun!" The man immediately declared, touching his nose.

"Damn it!" Glenn cursed. "Not cool."

"Too slow." T-Dog shrugged at his friend, unrepentant. "When do you wanna leave?" He asked Marshall.

"ASAP, so grab your shit and get in the car."

"Alright, man. Let's go!" He clapped Glenn on the back before heading to the Hyundai, already having everything he needed on him since he'd been out on watch.

"Yeah. R-right." Glenn managed to not get swatted in the face by Marshmallow when he ducked in to press a quick kiss to his girlfriend's lips. "See you later. Love you."

"Love you. Don't get killed!" Maggie called after him as he darted back into the house. She turned narrowed eyes on her twin, continuing to pet Marshmallow. "You better not get him killed."

"I mean, I'll try super hard just for you." Marshall said. "But what about me? Don't I get some sweet words, too?"

She rolled her eyes. "The implication is in there."

"Just tell me that you love me." He pouted.

"I love you." She deadpanned.

"Aw," He clasped his hands to his chest with a beam, "I love you back!"

"You're such a dork." She had a small smile. "Don't get killed either." Maggie headed back into the house.

"Alright," Rick announced. "Everyone who doesn't need to be out here, head back inside. It's been quiet, so let's keep it that way."

Lori was the first to make her way inside. Hershel followed after squeezing Marshall's shoulder. Marshall frowned as there was zero interaction between his daddy and baby sis when Hershel passed; he'd ask about that after he got back.

"Carl, can you keep an eye on the back?" Rick added with some amusement as he watched his son's eyes keep darting to the girl, "Or ask Maggie if your gonna catch up with Sophia."

Carl nodded, but didn't follow his mother in, his blue-eyes fixed on Sophia, who was dragging her own feet going inside as her mom tried to usher her in. The strawberry-blond 12-year-old completely pulled away when she caught Marshall's eyes. Carol blinked in surprise but didn't try to interfere when Marshall knelt down in front of the girl, just watched the interaction closely.

"Don't look so worried, Butterfly. You won't even have time to think about me in the company of your mama and best-friend. Hm?" He stroked her freckled cheek in reassurance and didn't even think twice about pressing a kiss to her hairline. "You can regale Little Grimes with all the badass stuff you did through winter. I'll be back before you know it, with City Girl and Samurai-sama in tow."

"Okay." She agreed quietly.

When she looked to the boy, his expression brightened. "C'mon, Sophia!" He reached forward and grabbed her hand. Her own expression brightened as he dragged her inside.

Carol caught his eyes as he stood. Marshall didn't avoid her gaze like he was guilty of something because he wasn't. Though she didn't speak as she observed him for a moment, the questions were clear in her eyes and he knew they'd be having that talk about Sophia soon after he got back. He wouldn't be surprised when she probed her daughter for information while he was gone. Carol silently headed back into the house.

Beth hadn't moved, her gaze watching him but silent. Athena was an ever present weight pressed against his leg. He turned his attention to Rick, who was just as silent, watchful and curious. "So, I wasn't kidding about where we are." Marshall flapped his map at the man. Rick took it and spread it on the closest flat surface, which just happened to be a light-yellow Pinto. "I almost can't believe you still have the Banana Mopeel." He stroked the hood fondly.

"Beth refused to abandon it." Rick said as he looked over the map.

"Why would you ditch a perfectly working and reliable vehicle?" Marshall remarked in turn. "Hard to find that these days. We've had shit-luck with cars."

"Is that why it took so long to gain on us?" Rick glanced over at him. "You've been mostly on foot this entire time?"

"No." Marshall leaned forward, staring at where Rick was tapping the map. "We've only been on foot for about the last two weeks." Marshall was silent for a moment as he traced the route back to The Deer Cooler, before he admitted, "We had Boomer and Hopscotch for a while."

Beth's breath caught. She was elated at first, before the end of that sentence caught up to her. "Oh. They're dead, aren't they?"

"Yes."

"Was it bad?" Why did she have to ask that?

Pause. "Yes." Quiet sigh. "They were all bad." Beth's expression was pained, but he stopped her when she opened her mouth again, "We can all talk properly when we get back." He told her, staring at the map a moment longer before folding it up. "The quicker I'm gone, the faster I'll be back." He promised. "I love you, Sunny."

She was silent for a moment, before the fight drained from her expression. "Love you, too." She mumbled, before turning sharply and marching into the house passed an exiting Glenn.

"Hey." Glenn said in passing. "You ready to go?" He called back, heading for the Hyundai.

"Yeah." Marshall muttered; it was obvious he had more than just Daryl to make it up to. "See you soon, Rick." He tapped the man on the chest with the map, backing up a few steps before turning on his heel.

"You better."

Marshall stopped short when he realized his footsteps were being shadowed. He looked down to amber eyes staring back. Athena woofed, her tail at half-mast and slowly wagging. "Oh, Athena." He squatted in front of the canine who panted happily at him. He cupped her head and smooched her blue-pigmented brow. "I missed you, but you can't come with me on this one." He gave her one last kiss before standing. "Athena, go back. Now." He ordered, snapping his fingers and pointed to Rick. "Go." Athena whined. Her tail was drooped as she sulked back to Rick, repeatedly stopping to look back at Marshall before he reaffirmed the command. "Sit. Stay." He didn't break away until her rear was on the ground beside cowboy boots. He forced himself to turn and march to the car, similar to how Beth had marched herself back into the house—determined not to look back, lest he be tempted to run back.

Marshall got into the driver's seat of the Hyundai, closing the door quietly but firmly. He nodded at T-Dog in the front passenger seat, and Glenn in the backseat. He clipped his seatbelt on and turned the key that was already waiting in the ignition. "Alright, let's get this done. Maybe with you all around, Andrea will get off my ass." As he pulled away, he glanced in the rear-view mirror. Bad decision, because there Deputy and Dog stood, watching them depart. "Ngh. The puppy-eyes." He groaned. "They're way more effective when they're actual puppy dog eyes." He forced his eyes from the rear-view mirror and out the front windshield before he crashed into a tree. It was a relief to take the bend in the drive and not have to contend with the image at all. After about 5 minutes, he turned off the dirt drive and onto paved road.

T-Dog was the one that pierced the silence. "So, this Michonne lady... you trust her?"

"Of course." Marshall said immediately. "She had me dead-to-rights the first time we met. But I was out of commission for a few days after the farm—my shoulder messed me up bad—she could have easily slaughtered us all and stole all our shit. She saved our skins many times over the winter, let alone just in that first week together. I trust her more than Andrea." He mumbled.

T-Dog looked at him sharply. "The hell, man?!"

Marshall shrugged. "Look, I get that she's your friend—but she hates my guts and I just don't straight-up trust her." She fucking shot Daryl in the head and that was it, any seedling of trust upon their meeting was burnt to ashes. "I mean, Christ, the farm was gone, we were all separated, all we had was each other and a stranger at the time—and when I basically collapsed because of the bullet wound her boyfriend gave me—she wanted to abandon me and leave my ass behind. She fucking admitted it, straight-up when I woke up." Glenn was gapping at him wide-eyed from the backseat, while T-Dog's expression was shuttered. "The only reason I wasn't was because Sophia refused to leave me and Michonne couldn't stomach abandoning a kid and stranger to die."

"Didn't you say this Michonne had you dead-to-rights, man?" T-Dog finally voiced after several minutes of silence. "And you still trusted her?"

"Oh, yeah! Sword to my throat and everything, one twitch away from severing my carotid artery." Marshall said way too cheerily, gaining him some serious side-eye. "She has this beautiful katana, and I am so fucking jealous. I mean, I want a kick-ass apocalypse weapon!"

"Man, your perception is skewed to hell." T-Dog muttered.

"I thought it was pretty on par, actually." Marshall easily disagreed. "Michonne was the one that took care of Sophia—and that's all I needed to know."

Driving on the road instead of cutting through the woods meant going the long way around. And while the roads were also their own little never-ending obstacle courses, they were able to simply bypass the neighbourhoods he and Sophia had searched and make a B-line to The Deer Cooler. Over this hill and then- Marshall hit the breaks, the Hyundai came to an abrupt halt. The abrupt change in momentum put them briefly against their seatbelts.

"Motherfucker." Marshall cursed quietly staring at the sight that lay before them. Everything had been going so well today, too. They found the rest of the Group, all that needed to happen was pick-up Michonne and Andrea, and then everything would be whole and hale—only for this-!

Glenn clicked off his belt and leaned forward through the two front seats to get a better view through the windshield. "Oh!" Was all he could utter, horrified.

"Just reverse and find a way a way around." T-Dog said.

Marshall shook his head. "The Deer Cooler is right at the bottom of the hill—right at the center of that fucking hoard!" He gritted his teeth. "Fuck!"

Marshall shifted the Hyundai into reverse, slowly pressed on the gas peddle so as not to draw unwanted attention. He spun the wheel and swung the car around out of view in the parking lot next to what used to be a small restaurant. He turned off the ignition, fingers white-knuckling the steering wheel as his mind raced. Stray piranha lingering in the lot started to wander over, their attention drawn. They were momentarily ignored as the 3 men sat in a moment of stifling silence.

"They're not there anymore." T-Dog finally declared. "They can't be!"

"They are." Marshall countered gravely. "There's a back loading dock, that's where they were set up. With the door closed... they'd never would have seen that hoard coming until it was banging on the door. They're trapped in there."

They all collectively flinched when the piranhas reached the car and started banging and snarling at the window, despite seeing it coming clear as day.

Slowly growing frustrated with the banging, Glenn unlocked the door behind T-Dog and slammed his foot into the unlatched door. The door flew open, the edge smashing the walker in the face that had been playing a demented game of peek-a-boo, sending it flying back onto the pavement. Glenn jumped out of the Hyundai, leaving the walker to pick itself up as he buried his hatchet into the skull of the next closest walker in a two-handed overhead swing.

"Damn, alright." T-Dog quickly jumped out, using the forked curve of his crowbar to hook the walker that was closest to lunging at Glenn—who was having a bit of the trouble unwedging the blade—around the neck, yanking it back off its feet before booting the final walker in the hip and altering its same course. T-Dog planted his boot on its chest and thrust the straight-end of his crowbar into its face.

Marshall just watched unconcerned from the driver's seat; it was clear the two could handle it.

Glenn managed to get his hatchet free, stumbled back a few steps, before straightening and side swinging with a grunt at the walker he'd initially knocked down with the car door, getting its neck. He flinched when, out of the corner of his eye, the final walker suddenly had the forked tongue of an iron bar protruding from its eye socket. Four 'fresh' bodies now littered the ground.

"Little warning next time." T-Dog scolded, yanking his crowbar free.

"Sorry." Glenn muttered, tucking the hatchet handle back into his belt. Both climbed back into the Hyundai, panting lightly from the brief but intense workout.

"Then we got to find a way in there." T-Dog spoke as if that short interlude never happened.

Glenn bit his lip for a moment in thought before he spoke-up: "We could set off a car alarm somewhere else, draw them away. That was how Rick and I got everyone out of Atlanta."

Marshall hummed thoughtfully. "That... is a very excellent idea, Glenn." He pulled out his map and laid it out over the center armrest so they could all see it. "This is The Deer Cooler. The way that herd is grouped up, it looks like they came up through this lumber road here." He traced his finger along. "I say we take an alternate road back that way and draw them back in that direction—from whence they came, as they say—and out of town."

"Sounds simple enough." T-Dog agreed. "Except we don't have to go through the effort of going to find a way down here." He tapped the lumber road. "We've riffled our way through this town three times over and have been circling the drain supply-wise. Rick already decided the Group was moving on—the house we're at now, that's just a pit stop for us to catch our breath, plan our next steps. No more than a few days—so, you're lucky you came across Daryl when you did."

"I'll say." Marshall muttered quietly in disbelief. "Well, then—let's get Andrea and Michonne and get the hell outta here. I've had enough of fucking piranha hoards in this damn place anyway." That got him some curious looks but he simply waved them off, that was a terrible tale he needed to tell Carol face-to-face. He folded the map back up, straightened in the driver's seat, and pulled out of the restaurant's parking lot, backtracking down the street to pull off deeper into downtown.

Piranha were reactive creatures. Without outside stimulus they basically went into standby-mode. Sight, scent, sound. Their actions fed off of outside influence as much as their fellow piranhas reactions. One piranha was active, another saw it and it became a 'Oh, must be something interesting.' moment that went on repeat until they had a hoard.

Whatever it was that had interested this herd to move on its path was interrupted by something that just happened to be around The Deer Cooler. Their collective focus switched to the new-thing, and when that died out, they just simply lingered in the area, waiting for whatever that next thing was: the wind rattling a loose sign, a loud flock of birds—or some people setting off a bunch of car alarms a few blocks away.

Bing,

bang,

boom.

Marshall parked in an isolated side street mid-downtown.

"Contrary to stereotypes—I do not know how to hotwire a car." T-Dog announced, making Marshall snort.

Glenn sat forward between the seats, "I've watched Rick do it." He said. "I can do it."

"Gotta find a few with the batteries still working first." Marshall said. "Glenn and I will do that. T-Dog, can you keep watch? Take out any piranha who's getting too curious."

"Sure, man."

"Great." He clapped. "Let's get this done. I said we'd only be a few hours and we're already closing in on that mark. I don't need Sunny even more upset with me than she already is."

Out of the dozen cars abandoned in various state in the street, only 3 had enough juice left in their battery's to feed the car alarm. Tearing out the wires from under the steering wheel, they jump-started the alarm. Though they been expecting it, the loud whooping, honking, and beeping still put them on edge, and after setting off the third and final car, they all rushed back to the Hyundai.

"Let's get outta here!" T-Dog thumped his fist against the dash. "This noise'll draw more than just that herd."

"Don't have to tell me twice." Marshall reversed back down the side street.

"What if the alarms shut-off too soon?" Glenn questioned. "Maybe one of us should stay behind to-"

"No." Marshall said shortly. "Not worth the risk. If they stop before the whole herd is drawn away—we'll just go with Plan B."

"What's Plan B?"

"No guts, no glory, Glenn. Literally. We slather ourselves up on piranha guts and goo, and ghost our way through the herd."

"We also did that in Atlanta." Glenn couldn't help the disgusted face. "Worked pretty well—until a cloud burst happened."

T-Dog snorted. "Just think about dead kittens."

Glenn smacked T-Dog's shoulder. "That wasn't funny the first time!"

"Come on," He chuckled. "It was a little funny."

"You made me puke!" Glenn sat back in his seat with a huff.

"And look at you now! Going into walker-infested wells and not leaving the room when dinner's gettin' gutted."

Marshall just drove, bemused by the clear inside-joke. He took the same road back, avoiding the obvious road for the herd to follow the blaring, repetitive sounds. He parked at the crest of the hill for them to wait and watch. A good chunk had already moved off down the road by the time they arrived. The car alarms going strong, it still took another half-hour for it to clear it, and by that time, the sun was slowly setting, the days still short.

When Marshall deemed it safe enough not to draw attention back onto them, he took the Hyundai straight down to The Deer Cooler. The sound of the car alarms was fainter now, meaning one of the cars must have run out of juice. Looking around warily, T-Dog and Glenn followed the other man through the front door of the shop.

"Michonne?" Marshall called out, hand ready on his machete just in case. "It's Marshall. C'mon, pack Andrea up, the car's waiting." But when he made it behind the desk leading into the back... there were no pet piranha rattling their chains, no katana blade to meet his throat like an old friend. No sick Andrea bundled up in the corner on the makeshift bed. "Damn it." He cursed.

"It's empty." Glenn said, turning a slow circle.

"Yup." Marshall responded tersely, gaze fixed on the large brown stain on the concrete he didn't remember.

"Are we taking this as good-news or bad-news?" T-Dog questioned the man's back.

"Both." Marshall decided after a moment.

"How do you figure?"

"They're alive. Just for whatever reason, they figured it was best not to stick around here. Can't be entirely sure if it was before or after the herd got here though."

"You can't know that, man!" T-Dog scoffed. "For all we know, they could be just two more walkers in that herd we lured away."

"Because—" Thing One and Two 2.0 weren't still chained up in the loading dock. If Andrea could manage to hold herself together long enough, the woman was already stumbling around like a corpse (all she had to do was not cough), and with a generous contribution of guts from the 2.0 pets... Each of those aspects combined, they could easily blend into the herd and carefully separate when the timing hit right. Marshall turned, grinning like a maniac. "They left here willingly." The fact that Thing One and Two 2.0 weren't left chained up in here... these new stains all pointed toward that. "This place is too clean. No one living died in here. If it had been breeched, believe you me, there would be more than a few decapitated heads laying around. But this-" He scuffed the stain with his boot, "This is piranha blood. AKA—camouflage."

Glenn was confused. "But you just said-"

"We kept a couple of collared and chained piranha around as another form of camouflage."

"I'm sorry—you what?!"

"Skipping passed all the crazy," T-Dog waved a hand. "You're making a lot of wild assumptions, Marshall."

"I know Samurai-sama. They'd head for the neighbourhood." Marshall decided. "They couldn't stay here and that was the last place they knew me and Sophia were headed." He promptly turned on his heel and left back out the front, leaving the other two men to chase after him.

"Man, just hold up a minute-!" T-Dog called.

"You wanna find Andrea?"

"Of course I do! That's not even a question, man."

Marshall wasn't petty enough to point out that he did, apparently, need to ask that question. "Then get in damn car so we can look for them!" He slammed the car door and turned on the ignition, causing them to scramble into the vehicle before he took off without them.

"Your white-ass better no have been actually about to leave us out here." T-Dog growled.

"No. But it sure as shit got your asses into the car, didn't it?" He reversed, did a sharp 180 and accelerated up the hill.

"How do you know that this chick wouldn't just abandon Andrea?"

"Michonne and Andrea are actually friends—number-one best-friends if she's to be believed—so she wouldn't just leave Andrea without a bloody, violent fight. Hell, Michonne looked ready to skewer me with her sword when she thought I wanted to leave Andrea behind."

The next 10 minutes were driven in silence, the Hyundai's headlights lighting up the dark road ahead. Night had officially fallen. He pulled into the residential street, the headlights cutting across one of the many Goddess of Athena Tags in the neighbourhood. He only pulled to a stop halfway down the block.

"There's no point in wasting time going house-to-house. We don't know where they are, but they're sure as hell going to know we're here." Marshall left the headlights on, opening the door but only stepping halfway out of the vehicle. "Keep an eye out because it's about to get loud." Before they could ask him for a little clarification, please, he leaned on the Hyundai's horn. T-Dog stared, and Glenn pressed his hands over his ears, looking around frantically.

Marshall held the horn down for a deafening 7 seconds, before withdrawing long enough to scream into the ringing silence at the top of his lungs,

"MICHONNE!"

Before leaning onto the horn again-

...

The headlights cut through the dense darkness hemmed in on the dirt drive by the surrounding trees. Marshall pulled a tight u-turn when they made it back to the house, the light cut across the quiet house and briefly illuminated Rick (who'd stayed on watch), parking the Hyundai facing back out towards the drive like the other vehicles.

The headlights clicked off. The silence that filled the interior was subdued. Each man more ruffled, dirty, and tired than when they'd left, both physically and spiritually. The engine ticked quietly as it cooled down. Still, nothing was said as Glenn finally heaved a quiet sigh and slid across the backseat to the door. It opened and closed just as quietly as the man himself.

T-Dog tapped his closed fist on Marshall's shoulder companionably. "We can try again tomorrow—get more people in on it." Marshall didn't respond and T-Dog took that as his cue to make his own exit.

Marshall didn't move to follow, head back against the headrest, his green gaze listlessly shifted to the rear-view as he heard muffled voices; T-Dog and Glenn met up with Rick briefly before the two parted into the house. Athena slipped out the door and Glenn had the balls to block Beth's own exit, managing to steer the protesting teenager back into the house, shutting the door. Rick followed Athena to the driver's side where she sat, peering up into the window and whining quietly.

Rick gently knocked on the window. "You gonna come inside?" Marshall's response was an obvious NO when the reached over and clicked the door lock. Rick watched the otherwise unresponsive man for a moment before stepping away.

His cowboy boots quietly scuffed the ground as he walked around to the passenger side. Athena quietly darted after the man when she heard the door open. Expecting it, Rick left a gap for her to jump in before climbing in after, closing them in. He said nothing, simply watched as Athena was on Marshall instantly. A big ball of fur, licking and whining, wet nose in his ear.

Marshall automatically barred his left arm across the steering wheel to prevent her squirming from hitting the horn. He didn't push her away, just let her get the anxiety and worry out of her system. They'd never been separated that long, not even when he'd been on Leave home. Right hand on the back of her neck under the thick collar of her vest, he gently massaged. "Hush now. I'm here, good girl. Right here."

With a last worried nip on his chin, the Belgian Malinois settled down, managing to wedge herself in his lap under the wheel with her ass up on the center armrest and her tail dully whapping Rick on the chest.

"Hey." Rick finally spoke.

"I don't want to talk." Marshall mumbled.

"I know. T and Glenn gave me a... summary of what happened-"

"Shit." Marshall interrupted, frustrated. "Shit is what happened, Rick. Absolute stone-cold shit."

Overdue already, Marshall was not about to go back empty-handed. Whether he screamed himself hoarse, ran the battery out in the Hyundai sitting on that horn, even if they had to cut through the rising number of piranha they drew to them as a result. Except none of that fucking mattered—because Michonne and Andrea were not there!

"You don't know when that herd got there." Rick reasoned gently. "It could have been shortly after you and Sophia left-"

"Is this supposed to help me feel better?" Marshall scoffed. "You don't think I tried to convince myself?" He shook his head. "Michonne was against splitting-up in the first place. If I'd listened to her-"

"Then you and Sophia never would have found us."

"And that makes it okay?!" Athena's ears pressed flat against her skull with a whine at his harsh snap. His exhale hissed through his teeth like pressure release as he pet her neck. He was fucking frayed right now, and his anxiety manifested in a snap of frustration.

"Of course, it doesn't." Rick replied evenly. "The fact is—you don't know, Marshall. You can't know-"

Marshall shook his head in denial, tears burning behind his eyes in the darkness. "Maybe I should have just left Sophia with Daryl and headed straight for Michonne and Andrea instead of selfishly following-"

"Stop."

Marshall didn't listen. "Maybe if I-"

"Stop." Rick repeated, low and firm. He reached across, one hand palming the younger man's nape, the other cupping his jaw, guiding those pained green-eyes to his. Marshall could feel the cold band of his wedding ring against his skin. "Shhh." He hushed gently as the other's chin trembled. "We'll find them." He promised. "Tomorrow when we go looking for them again. Or 4 months from now. But I have faith that we will. You gotta, too. Okay?" Marshall gulped against the sob in his throat. "Nobody ever said caring was easy. Mm?"

"What if I'd ju-"

Rick's thumb tapped his cheek gently, silencing him. "Wasn't it you who told me that second guessing yourself helps nobody?" He quipped and Marshall's mouth puckered mutinously. "And the What-If Game is nothing but a downward spiral into guilt and self-loathing? You can't change what happened, but you can learn from it."

Marshall's jaw worked for a moment. Rick held his gaze steadily. The 26-year-old inhaled deeply through his nose and slowly exhaled through his mouth. He found it hard to be anything other than at ease under that blue-eyed stare. He huffed, shoulders slumping. "Did you seriously just throw my own words back at me?"

"It's hypocrisy not to practice what you preach, Marshall." Was the cheeky rejoinder as Rick clapped him lightly on the cheek with a shrug, finally pulling away.

Marshall instantly felt the loss of comfort and grounding the physical intimacy provided from the other man. He buried his fingers into Athena's fur deeper instead of trying to reach out. "I have been thinking about it a lot, actually." He confessed. "Kept me up at night. One thing I that I could go back and change that would... fix everything."

"Marshall..." Rick shook his head.

"Just listen." He insisted. Rick sighed, but nodded. "We get some rope-"

"Marshall!" His name came with a bark of incredulous laughter.

"What? You didn't even let me finish!"

"If it finishes with something else other than 'tie them up', then I'll be surprised." He said wryly.

"I wasn't gonna say 'tie them up', Rick. Christ. Just... rig a line around their waists or something—that way, none of you assholes can wander off and get into trouble. And you are also included in that category, Mister."

"Me?"

"You." Marshall nodded. "A 12-year-old scared out of her mind followed the damn instructions better than you. You were supposed to stick to me, Grimes. What the fuck? Why didn't you stick to me?" He demanded, upset.

"Shit, Mars." Rick muttered, carding fingers through his greasy, curly hair. "It was chaos. My focus was split a hundred ways. Keeping an eye on Carl, keeping you and Sophia in my eye-line. Looking for Lori, any of the others. The back... Carl got swallowed up in walkers—I only lost him for a few seconds, but I was utterly terrified. It was like running with him unconscious in my arms bleeding out all over again-" He swallowed convulsively. "I grabbed him in my arms and when I looked around again—you were nowhere in sight. The only person I could see was your father... So, with my son in my arms, I ran." He confessed it like it was a sin to be guilty of.

Marshall cringed internally; he was such a self-righteous prick, just like Andrea always said. He knew that feeling, he more than knew that feeling, he had done the same as Rick with Sophia after all. "Hey. I'm sorry. That was so fucking selfish to put that on you." This time it was Marshall reaching across. His right hand wrapped around the man's left wrist, the metal links in Rick's silver watch's wristband pinching the skin on his finger pads as he gently pulled Rick's hand from where it was clenched in his curly locks. "You did exactly what you should have done. You got your son out of there. And thank you for getting my daddy's stubborn-ass outta there, too. I saw him," He made his own confession quietly, "I saw him on that porch, making his Last Stand. I could have made my way to him... but then I heard Athena. I left my own daddy to die..."

"None of that matters. I got him out."

"It does." Marshall countered quietly. Rick looked over. "It does, Rick, because I still don't know how to completely trust him. He left us without a word to go get drunk and die. He chose to die for a house instead of living for his children." He shook his head. "What about his next stunt? Is that going to be the one that finally gets someone killed?"

"The fact that he came back both times should tell you all you need to know, Marshall."

"When I asked him the real reason... he said 'you', Rick. I think he just couldn't handle the guilt of getting you and Glenn killed along with him. Same with you and Carl."

"I don't know what to tell you, Marshall, other than it's not me you should be talking with about this. It's a conversation you need to have one-on-one with your dad."

Marshall made a sound of discontent. "Would you believe me if I said our relationship is complicated?"

Rick thought back to the conversation between father and daughter at the rest stop. "100%." Marshall's eyebrow rose. He'd been expecting a dismissive snort and 'Aren't they all?'. Rick chuckled lightly at his expression before it became more solemn. "I've heard some... tales from your youth."

Marshall's brow puckered, his lips marred in a frown. He couldn't really think of any 'tales from his youth' that would garner that kind of- well, he didn't know how to describe that tone. "Sheesh. What kind of campfire stories were y'all sharing while I was gone?"

"Privacy is the luxury of the past. There aren't really any secrets anymore, are there?" Rick muttered quietly. "It's all just out there in the open for everyone to know and see—like pus from an open wound."

Marshall silently observed the man in the dim interior of the Hyundai. The shadows in the car, the way the moonlight played in the contours of the man's face... they were all exhausted, they were all dirty, but even this was more than the added weight and responsibility of Leadership, it was like some invisible phantom was slowly crushing him.

"You know, this therapy thing is an open two-way street..."

"Just..." Rick started but then gave a helpless shake of his head. "You have no idea how grateful and relieved I am that you're here. Not just to finally know without a doubt that you're alive, but because I've been hanging on by a thread here. You have no idea how much I've needed you."

"You're obviously not giving yourself enough credit, Rick."

"We left the farm with nothing but ourselves. You're the one that packed a bunch of supplies into your car and the truck. You're the one that prepared and buried that cache at the rest stop. You mapped out rendezvous points in case something happened—us finding each other on the highway, that was pure dumb luck and desperation."

"Look, you flatter me, Grimes, but it just feels like your giving me too much credit here. That was nothing special," He denied. "Just being practical, that's all. Just me with too much time on my hands, a heavy dose of paranoia, and the means to pull it off."

"Sounds to me that you're not giving yourself enough credit, Marshall." Rick told him wryly.

"You're an old-hand at surviving outta your ass, Rick. I find that impressive. I lost Michonne and Andrea. All your people are present and alive—bonus points on the growing human."

"It's not a competition, Marshall." Rick frowned. "Let's just agree that we've done our best. We're together now. We can help each other. Two heads are better than one..."

Marshall blinked over at the other man. "What, you want to co-leader this ragtag bunch?"

"I've always had a partner. Someone to watch my back. Bounce ideas off of. Keep my head straight."

"Yeah. It'll be nice to finally have someone who'll talk back—or at least in a language I understand." Athena grumbled in his lap. "See? I'm pretty sure that was some affectionate insult about my intelligence or she just told me go sniff a donut."

Rick gave an amused huff. "A donut?"

"An impossible demand to fulfill," He agreed. "Where am I supposed to find a donut in this climate?"

"You're..." Rick shook his head fondly. "As ridiculous as I remember." He smiled.

"I think you meant to say 'fantastic', Rick." Marshall corrected. "So, partners, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Pinkie swear?"

"Uh?"

"You know what a pinkie-swear is, don't you?" Rick nodded. "Well, then..." Marshall rose his right hand between them, pinkie extended. "Lock it in here, Cowboy." He wiggled the digit as the blue-eyed man stared.

Rick's gaze flickered between the hand between them, to the shadowed face before finally lifting his left hand. He hooked his pinkie around Marshall's.

"I pinkie promise—to skip arm-in-arm with Rick Grimes in the apocalypse." The green-eyed man declared. "Now, your turn."

"I pinkie promise," Rick murmured. "To be equal partners with Marshall Greene in the apocalypse." Their pinkies tightened around each other.

"Infinity." Marshall dipped their hands like a locking-in motion. "I'm not going to make you kiss me to seal it-"

"Kiss you?!" Rick choked in surprise.

Marshall was highly amused. "Yeah, so we can just touch tips."

"Marshall!"

"What?" He laughed. "Just press your thumb against mine, you gutter boy."

Rick's wrist flexed and their thumb-pads met in the middle. "There, it's all locked in—now we're Apocalypse Husbands." Rick couldn't help but mirror his smile. Their hands pulled apart. "I just want you to know that my promise still stands." Rick's brow furrowed in confusion. "I told you when you were ready to talk..." It was left in an open-ended invitation.

"I remember." Rick murmured.

"Not pushing." Marshall swore. "Just... looked like you wanted to say something earlier, and then you decided to say something else instead, that's all. So, just throwing that out there again."

"I didn't forget. I just don't..."

"It's okay. As long as you know. Partner."

Rick looked over. "I do." He promised.

"Cool, cool, cool."

They sat in a moment of companionable silence. They were enveloped in the silent blanket of night, in there own little pocket. Marshall could see the house in the rear-view mirror, but whatever lighting was going on inside was thoroughly blocked by the thick window coverings. He knew what awaited him inside: an upset sister, a mother who wanted answers-

Marshall blinked over at the other man when he felt a hand on his right shoulder. "Ready to head inside now?"

Marshall groaned. "Can't I just sleep in the car?"

Rick chuckled, shaking his head. "No, you cannot. And I'm not standing in the way when your sisters lose their patience and come after you like a couple of hyenas. Beth-" He scratched his stubbled cheek. "Beth is frightening for such a short person."

He snickered. "She tear into you, huh?"

"Lori actually. And-"

"Oh, jeez." Marshall interrupted before he could continue. "That- Look-" He knew exactly what that had been about without even having to ask. Hell, he wouldn't have been so friendly either if Beth was the one that had been separated from the Group instead of himself, but, you know, What-If never actually changed anything. It happened, it couldn't be changed, it mostly worked out in the end: Sophia was with her mama, and he was back with his sisters and daddy. "Don't hold it against Sunny, okay? Lori's reaction to finding out that I lost you and Carl in the hoard of piranha was simultaneously understandable and... a fucking wrecking ball of a domino effect." He shook his head. "I was so busy trying to prevent her from running back into the herd and wrangle her into the car—that I overlooked a couple simple things that snowballed into the damning consequence we all know."

"You couldn't have known that Patricia was bitten." Rick tried to assuage his guilt.

"It was terrifying watching her get yanked into the crowd, but I managed to grab her, pull her free... and that was supposed to be it. That was supposed to be it!" He denied. "She was supposed to be safe in my arms," His chin trembled. "But she wasn't." He gripped the wheel white-knuckled so he wouldn't accidentally hurt Athena by curling his fingers into her fur. "She got bit and-and-" He choked on the sob in his throat as Rick's hand squeezed the nape of his neck in silent comfort. He cried, "I really tried, Rick. I swear!"

"I know." He murmured in reassurance.

"Auntie was never going to get in that car. She was already gone. She'd already accepted it before I even realized what the blood on me fingers meant." Hot tears dribbled down his cheeks, dripping off his chin. "She decided she was going to die on the farm, as physically close as she could get to Uncle O on this plain before meeting him up in The Spirit in the Sky." His chest heaved with sobs. Athena sat up in his lap with a whine, her head shoved through the space in his arms, nuzzling his face.

"Shhh. Just breathe. You're okay."

Marshall's breaths were shaky and uneven, interrupted with choked heaves. He patted Athena's head in reassurance as he worked to collect himself again. "Fuck." He sniffled. "I'm sorry."

Rick shook his head. "You have nothing to apologize for."

He wiped the ears from his cheeks with the back of his hand. "I guess I just never had to time to just sit and grieve her, you know?"

"I do."

Marshall nodded and licked his lips. "And Sophia- God. She literally took my words to heart. She stuck to me like glue instead of getting into the car. That... that one's on me." He confessed. "And I have so much to make-up to Carol for that." He may have gained a spirit-daughter due to that unforeseen accident, but he'd deprived a mother of her daughter for 4 terrifying months in the apocalypse. He could only guess the kind of affect that had on the woman's psyche and demeanour after having lost her girl already just a week prior.

While Marshall knew a degree of separation from his family in Before, he knew they were safe and sound at home—while they were the ones that experienced that fearful unknown in his regard. He was always the one away from their purview, in a danger that they could not help or save him from, that they had seen the results of in gruesome, terrifying detail.

"You kept her safe, that's what matters."

Marshall though about the still-fresh scar on the 12-year-old's calf and made a unconscious sound of self-deprecation. "Yeah. Right."

"Marshall-"

"I really missed talking to you, Rick. I mean that." He told the man seriously.

Rick watched him through the darkness. "Yeah. Me, too, Marshall."

"Okay. Just give me another minute, let me splash some water on my face, and then I'll be ready to go in and face the hyenas." Athena tongue flicked against the underside of his stubbled chin, collecting the remains of his salty tears. "Athena, nooo." Marshall groaned in weak disgust, pushing her muzzle away. "I was being figurative."

He pulled open the door latch and nudged the dog. She woofed and leapt out onto the ground, her tail swatting him in face on the way out. He stepped out after her, shutting the driver's door quietly as he picked out stray strands of fur from his mouth. Her tail always had been the most unruly aspect. Marshall squatted, ruffling Athena's cheeks. "My poor Pampered Queen, gotta find you a brush or something, you're going to rags."

Rick met him around the side of the car. "You can take a minute-"

"No, no." Marshall rose, ordering Athena to go potty before they headed inside. "'Hyena' is a very apt description, Rick. You must have gotten to know them well during the winter."

"Didn't have much of a choice on the matter." Rick pointed out as they slowly made their way to the front door as Athena squatted in some grass. "But they're good people, figured that long before the fall of the farm."

"Yeah." Marshall patted him on the shoulder. "Not more than me, though, right?" He joked.

Rick chuckled. "That'd be impossible."

"Rick~" Marshall giggled with embarrassment. "You'd actually be surprised." Athena met them at the door. "As soon as we step inside, you're gonna wanna step away." He whispered with humour. "Like you said, you don't want to stand in their way when they're pissed—especially at me."

"Maybe you should just go in first, then."

Marshall grabbed the knob, turning it and opening the door without hesitation—he was always happy to return home no matter what awaited him beyond the door. Every eye with the front of the house turned to the door as he stepped-in, Athena slipped passed him and Rick closed the door quietly and slipped just a silent out of the danger-zone, a hand briefly touching the other man's back.

The silence in the room was enough to hear a pin drop. Despite the late hour, everyone was still up and Marshall knew that was his fault for keeping Glenn and T-Dog out so long to keep searching for Michonne and Andrea past the ETA he'd given the Group.

His gaze automatically found Sophia first (a quick habit he'd developed shortly into the 4 months separated; wake-up—Sophia, return from a hunt—Sophia ect.), the strawberry-blond was grouped up on a mattress on the floor with Carol, Carl, Lori, and Marshmallow (still attached to his leash, but he looked pretty content cuddled up against the brunette woman's baby-bump).

His green gaze instantly jumped to the small figure clad in his over-sized Army jacket. There was quiet fury as Beth marched up to him. The trapper hate didn't take away from the threat of the baby-viper's quiet hiss.

"Sunny- Ugh!" Marshall had not been anticipating the knee to his groin, but he probably should have. Her boney-knee angled just-so—knowing where his last remaining family jewel hung.

"Papa?!" Sophia blurted in startled surprise. She clapped her hands over her mouth in realization, her eyes darting over to her mother. She'd garnered several confused looks from the closest few people to them, but it was Carol's reaction the girl was fearful of. Carol's eyes were there to meet hers immediately. Sophia could not get a read on her mother's expression; just that her eyes were shadowed and her mouth was tight.

Marshall wheezed. "Christ, Beth, did you really-?"

"You know you deserved that." She crossed her arms, her stare challenging.

Marshall stared for a moment, before dropping his head in defeat. "Yep. I did. I did." He took a deep breath before straightening from his slight hunch, ignoring the lingering sharp pain. "I'm sorry. I said just a few hours and I was gone not just a few hours."

She humphed in agreement before looking up at her big brother in the dim candlelight. "Were you crying?" She demanded.

"Yeah. Nothing to worry about," He promised, thumb stroking her cheek. "It was just a little therapy session with Dr Grimes. Now... Can somebody please hug me?" He pouted, spreading his arms, "I came back again and nobody has even hugged me yet." Within 30 seconds his request was granted—3 pairs of arms wrapping around him. His waist, his chest, his neck. His spirit-daughter, twin, and baby sis. "Fantastic." He mumbled, his cheek laid on top of his trapper hat with Sunny's face in his neck.

He could definitely stay like this for a while; they still needed to find Michonne and Andrea, but he couldn't continue the search until the morning so he didn't have the emergency pulling him away like the first time.

"You didn't find them?" Sophia mumbled, her voice muffled with her face pressed into his ribs. It was clear upon T-Dog and Glenn's subdued arrival, before they'd even told the rest of the Group about what happened, but she needed to hear it from her papa, hear his reassurance.

"No, Butterfly." With his arm wrapped around Beth's waist, he laid his hand on her head. His other was reached up, fingers tangled in Maggie's hair with her head laid against the back of his shoulder. "But you know Michonne, she can take on the world with nothing but her kick-ass attitude and her katana—so City Girl won't be a problem."

"But the herd..." Sophia's arms tightened around his waist. She remembered the last herd they encountered, how that ended with all of them together and healthy. This time, Michonne and Andrea were alone, and Andrea was really sick.

"Hey." He said, soft, but firm. He shifted his head from Beth's to look down at the girl, gently tugging one of the braids at the nape of her neck to get her to look up. "They got out." He promised. "You know I would tell you if I thought otherwise, right?" She gave a small nod. "Good. Now, we just gotta find each other, is all."

"That's what we'll be doing tomorrow." Rick spoke up, addressing the Group, barring Daryl who was on watch out back. "Leaving is still the plan—we've milked this town dry during the winter, there's nothing left for us here—but before we leave this place behind us, we're going to give the town one last, more thorough search in the daylight, as a Group. For Andrea and Marshall's friend Michonne. So, everyone turn in, it will be a busy day tomorrow."

"Bright and early?" Sophia asked.

"Oh, so bright and early." He booped her nose. "Back to your mama now—it's way passed you bedtime. You eat?"

"Mm-mm."

"Well, that's all I need to know. Don't be worrying, it's not a dream. Everything will be the same as when you go to sleep and when you wake up again. Now, shoo, Butterfly."

Her arms tightened around for a moment longer before she slipped away. Her head down, unable to hide behind her hair from the stares styled as it was the short distance to her mom. She just fell into her mom's waiting arms, who rubbed her back and kissed her hair. The woman's eyes once again meeting the younger man's, quiet and watching. Marshall caught the frown that marred Lori's face as she watched him, but it wasn't her opinion that mattered, it was Sophia's mama's. He knew tomorrow he would be having a lot of conversations that he would of had today had he not had to run-off after Michonne and Andrea.

Maggie lifted her head from his shoulder and whispered into his ear, "Don't worry, it's 'one ball, one knee', despite two sisters."

Marshall gave a bark of laughter. "I appreciate that, Mags. Really. Love you beyond measure."

"Agreed." Maggie kissed the back of his head before she pulled back, going to her awaiting boyfriend.

"Sunny?" He wrapped both arms around her waist.

"I let go that last time—and you left."

"I'm sorry, but that was out of my hands and you know it." He murmured. Her arms tightened around his neck. "I won't leave. I'm not leaving. We'll all be going together this time. You can hold my hand the entire time, no more than an arm's length away, Sunny."

"Beth-Anne, your brother needs to eat something before he turns in." Hershel said. Beth's answering sneer was hidden in Marshall's throat; the last time she'd let her brother go in deference to Hershel, Marshall had gone. "You as well, Rick. I know you didn't eat," He added when Rick opened his mouth, "You were pacing outside all night."

Rick sighed, called out. "I will. Thank you." He accepted the bowl from Hershel in the kitchen as everyone else started to settle more in for the late night, before deciding to also grab Marshall's dish after a glance back at the two siblings. "How do you want to do this?" He questioned said man with amusement.

Marshall shrugged. "I can just use her head as a table—she's short enough for it."

"That's one way to go about it." Rick chuckled.

"Hey!" Beth protested at the poke at her height, pinching his neck. "Shut up. You don't know—I could still grow."

"You might." Marshall patted her head before reaching for the offered bowl. "But then you won't be able to hug me while I eat."

"I'm not sure if hugging you is worth this degradation of being treated as a table."

"While you decided on that..." He nestled the tin bowl on the cushioned flat top of the trapper hat. "Don't move." Beth mumbled in coherently into his throat but didn't move.

Marshall picked up the spoon and stirred the slop in the bowl, long since gone-cold, it was slightly congealed with tiny grease beads. All thrown into the same pot to cook, he sussed out meat, canned veggies (string green beans being most prominent, which he was excited for) and... rice. He hummed to himself as he chewed on a small chunk of meat; definitely squirrel. He wasn't sure if Daryl had caught any other animal on his Hunting Trip Part 2, but the mystery of finding out was interesting. Marshall always knew what was going into that day's meal because he was the one that always caught said living protein. Marshall was simply ecstatic there was no form of bean in it. "Compliments to the chef," He said after scraping the bowl clean of the small portion, "And the hunter, of course."

"Here." Rick approached, his hand out for the other empty before Marshall could haul his baby sis up by the back of her pants to make the short trip to the kitchen.

"Thanks."

"No problem. And the answer is 'no'—we can work you into the watch rotation tomorrow night, but I think for tonight, your attention is solely occupied."

"You read my mind." Marshall stared in amazement, "The power of touching tips."

There was various scandalized exclaims and choked sounds around the room.

"Did he really just-?!" T-Dog couldn't even finish it.

"Ugh. Ew!" Beth drew back and punched him in the chest.

"Marshall Elijah." Hershel scolded sternly. "You watch your tongue with that vulgar language."

"What's that mean?" Carl and Sophia questioned their mothers, looking around at the other adults in confusion.

Marshall's green-eyes were dancing. Rick met him with a blank face, but Marshall totally saw that lip-twitch. Lori's stare was fixed on Rick's back, but she caught Marshall's wink to him over his shoulder.

"What? I wasn't just going to break the sanctity that is a pinkie-promise by copy-and-pasting mine and Sunny's lock-in sequence." He scoffed at them like they were the disgusting ones for implying such a thing. Marshall linked his pinkies and pressed his thumb pads together in an approximate simulation. "See? What else would you call it?"

"Not 'touching tips'!" Glenn said loudly, face red and unable to look at Maggie.

T-Dog laughed, pressing a hand over his mouth to stifle it. "You got a few broken crayons in that box of yours, don'tcha, man?"

"Pinkie Promises are a serious thing."

"He's not wrong," Beth agreed, crossing her arms as she looked between Rick and Marshall. "A pinkie-promise is a vow—you break that, there are ramifications to your soul. What did you swear?"

"Relax, baby sis." Marshall grabbed her shoulders. "You know I don't break my pinkie-promises. Remember when I pinkie-swore that I would always come home before I left for my first deployment?"

"You got blown-up." Beth deadpanned.

"But I came home. I always do. And you know that Rick is a good man. He already promised to look after you and Mags like you were his own, and that wasn't even a pinkie-promise, that was just him. And look at you."

"All valid points." Beth agreed. "But you can also just tell me or I'm going to lay awake thinking about it. You want me to get a good-night's rest, don't you, big brother?"

"Cute." He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Bed, now. Night, daddy. Love you."

"Love you, son. See you in the morning. Goodnight, Maggie."

"Night, daddy." His eldest daughter replied.

"Goodnight, Beth."

"Night." Beth muttered reluctantly, not even glancing his way.

Marshall frowned, his brow furrowed, confused by her behaviour. He opened his mouth to scold her for the rude attitude, but Hershel gestured, earning his silence. He sent his daddy a questioning look, but the old shook his head, returning to his seat in the kitchen with the bowls from Rick.

"Sunny, c'mon. Show me where we're sleeping." He murmured. "Goodnight, everybody else." He got similar murmurs in reply. "Butterfly, sleep-tight."

"I will." The girl murmured, then paused and boldly stated: "You, too—Papa." The declaration clear for all to hear. She wasn't ashamed of the desire, she didn't want to hide the fact that Marshall was her papa, like he was an embarrassment. She didn't want her mom to think that was how she felt, because she didn't and he wasn't. He was the best papa she'd ever known, she needed her mom to see that, too.

Carol simply pressed a kiss to her little girl's crown and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders more comfortably, the two 12-year-olds tucked between their mothers on the shared mattress. "I love you, baby. We'll talk tomorrow."

Carol's biggest mistake in life had not been being together with Ed, her biggest mistake was staying with him after she got pregnant with Sophia. If there were men like her dead husband free in the Old World, she did not want fathom the kind of men this New World nurtured. She was not going to make the same mistake by letting that kind of man into her daughter's life again. She needed to be stronger herself in order to make her daughter strong as well, she learned that during the winter separation. The woman understood that it had been a frantic day, and there hadn't been an opportunity to approach the younger man on this topic that was in clear need of a discussion, but if Marshall thought he could just slip into her daughter's life without any discussion, he was sorely mistaken.

Beth's head whipped around to him, lips parted to demand answers. "Bed." He told her. Her lips pursed in discontent, blue-eyes narrowed. Maggie had a pointed brow rose. "Bed." He repeated. He clapped when neither moved, ushering. "Let's go, your lollygagging is keeping everyone else up."

Five minute later saw him stripped of anything bulky on his person, i.e. his thigh holster and his machete, which he laid close by within easy reach above his head on the floor, laid in the middle of a twin mattress with a sister claiming each shoulder as a pillow, and a Belgian Malinois his chest as her doggy-bed. With the body heat alone coming from the 3 bodies on his, he almost wished he'd taken off his leather duster. Almost. He was more than happy to be the center of this sleep-pile.

With everyone finally settled in for bed, Rick blew out the two lit candles (one in the kitchen, the other the front room) and took up his front watch position at the convenient window seat overlooking the front drive, the curtain cracked enough to spy outside without drawing obvious attention from anything.

The house was quiet with the faint rustling as people shifted to get more comfortable, as breathing smoothed out into sleep. His daddy was a heavy breather when he slept so Marshall knew he hadn't knocked off yet, and through it all, Marshall lay away staring up at the dark ceiling, a cobweb caught in the ceiling fan blades that glimmered in the strip of moonlight let in from the window drawing his zoned stare.

Surrounded by more people than he was used to, sounds that were as-yet unfamiliar... even the bodies of his sisters he was sandwiched between felt foreign after continuous exposure over the past 4 months to the same 3 people with zero alteration. The changes, though not inherently dangerous, automatically put his body and senses to a more heightened-alert than passive-drowsiness.

He was tired. He knew he needed the rest—yet he continued to stare. He supposed it could just be the excitement and anxiety that tomorrow would bring. He told Sophia not to worry about this all being a dream, that the Group would still be here as when she went to sleep as to when she woke up in the morning—yet, he was having a hard time of heeding his own assurances. This state of unrest was an old familiarity in itself, though. He unconsciously hummed to set himself more at ease—the more typical bedtime recipe that he had become used to.

It was like the first-day-home jitters he used to get that first night home from deployment. His psyche adjusting to the shift in environment and energies. Except instead of coming home, it felt like he was leaving for deployment instead. Going from their small, close-knit unit of 4 to this large group three-times that number? Was going to be a major adjustment.

He recalled his conversation with Maggie back in the surgery at the farm after Glenn had discovered the piranha in the barn. The laundry list of all the crazy shit that Rick's Group had been up to in the short span of 3 days, how they appeared to get by on dumb-luck and chance...

Marshall enjoyed pre-thought plans, and while he did like to try to plan for every eventuality (which he knew was an impossibility)(and perhaps that was a factor in why Andrea called him 'controlling'), he didn't let himself obsess over it—it didn't break him when a spanner was thrown into the works. It was why his caches worked out so well, it was half the reason why the four of them managed to survive winter. The only wrench there in his best-laid-works were that he had to deal with was Andrea—now, he would need to contend with everyone else's shit-show. He prayed to God that his family hadn't picked up that habit—only time would tell, time he was more than willing to spare.

When he finally heard his daddy's deeper breathing from the kitchen area, it was like a flip in his brain switched. Finally, his eyelids slipped closed, his vocals tapered- A loud snarl of a snore ripped out of the quiet like the rev of a chainsaw. There was various groans and mumbled complaints around the room with the incoherent mutter of the speakerphone-snorer and everyone settled back into rest like it was all old hat. On the other hand—it put Marshall's heart up in his throat, startling him from a 30 to an 80, nearly as much as if it had been a gunshot to shatter the quiet.

He pursed his lips, breathing through his nose. At first, it was to calm himself down, until the lump in his throat morphed into laughter. Then it was just him simultaneously trying not to break out into loud guffaws and scare the absolute shit out of everyone else, and not wake up his sisters with his shaking from repressed laughter.

Athena had already been roused by the snore, ears flickering, but became alert at the feeling of his rapid heartbeat through his chest into hers, the shift in his breath sounds. Ears flickering, her head had risen, Amber-eyes trained on his face, her own pressing closer in curiosity. Eyes fix back, a puff of air escaped his lips—directly into her nose. The dog gave a single, loud sneeze, shaking her head.

Maggie muttered in her sleep, burying her face into his shoulder further in ignorance. Beth roused a little bit further, eyes cracking briefly, head rising to smooch the closest piece of canine she could reach (a front leg) before falling back into slumber, also burrowing herself further against her brother. He was surprised she didn't rouse before, the way her hand was trapped between his chest and Athena's, her hand fisted around his dog tags under his shirt as it was. It was a habit that the teen typically utilized to 'keep him in place', as it were, like holding his tether.

When he finally calmed down, Athena laid her own head back down. He went back to humming to himself, falling into short spouts of slumber that lasted anywhere from 5-10 minutes before some insignificant sound roused him again.

His eyes opened into dimness at the faint creak of the floorboards, rustled clothing, and muted words as Daryl and Rick switched off watch with T-Dog and Glenn. Rick's cowboy boots scuffed gently against the floor as he passed by the Greene siblings' claimed mattress for the recliner that Glenn had been occupying (leaving Daryl the couch that had been T-Dog's temporary bed), their eyes involuntary met in the dim moonlight. No words were exchanged as he sat back in the chair with a silent sigh.

Marshall found it a weird shift from having a watch-shift every night for 4 months, then to suddenly not. It threw off the routine he'd become used to—and he knew that was a bad habit to fall into, not just because it was in the apocalypse (an unpredictable environment itself) but also because they were 'on the road' in the apocalypse. It was like Double Jeopardy.

It was an old routine on the farm, even with the piranha thrown in there to spice things up a little. There was the general routine: house and farm chores, take care of the animals, hunt (even if it had become a more frequent endeavour than Before, and included more than just hunting dinner). Then the personal habits: wake-up at dawn, shave every morning with his straight razor, hangout with his sisters, family dinner (even if there was a decline in seats filled). And the blanket habit: Ignore the barn and what lay inside. All that regularly scheduled programming had been torn to bits when a man ran onto the farm with a dying boy in his arms, and a lost little girl and injured hunter were found in the woods.

Routine and habit had also formed in the winter once they'd settled into the cul-de-sac. Most were easily transferable: wake up at dawn, shave, chores to keep the ship heated and running, hunting. Take care of Sophia. Others: Let the horses out at dawn, bring them in at dusk, skill training, argue with Andrea, check on Sophia. Take 2nd watch. Now they found the Group again and everything was shifted 2-inches to the left—didn't seem that major, but the whole world felt skewed.

Marshall would adjust, of course, he always did. He was an adaptable and accommodating person. He was also more than happy for each disruption if it meant results like these. Sandwiched between his sisters and dog, with Rick's soft breathing on one side and his daddy's heavier breaths on the other. His eyes slipped closed again and stayed closed this time until dawn.

...

Marshall wasn't the only one awake at dawn-ish. Hershel was no surprise. Neither was Glenn or T-Dog seeing as they had last-watch and were already up. The hunter woke with the birds, and he knew it would be Rick's habit to rise before everyone else (that was if he even went to sleep at all) and get a head start on the day and planning.

Marshall's problem, well, was his current role as a pillow... to his 2 feisty sisters.

Athena had roused as soon as others around the room started shuffling about, but she didn't move from his chest until he uttered the soft command of 'Off'. She rose on his chest with a quiet woof and exited with flourish by leaping off overhead—a feat that was 1 million times better than if she'd scrambled off him backward and inevitably stomped his groin.

He knew his sisters would not be so accommodating. Particularly that twin of his. Maggie got petty when she was grumpy—and she became particularly spiteful when she was woken before she wanted to be. He could only wonder at their temperament throughout the past 4 months of winter with the Group—Marshall figured they'd be more accommodating as opposed to a life-long sibling. Who would have thought that this was one of his bigger worries at the end of the world?

"Are you going to lay there all morning or are you going to get up?" Glenn spoke softly in amusement, standing over the trio from the head of the mattress.

"I will be getting up." Marshall announced, his volume just as soft. "Once I figure out a way—disarming a buried landmine is simpler."

"Oh, I'll bet." He chuckled, turning to leave.

"Hey, Glenn?"

He paused. "Yeah, Marshall?"

"Can you be a doll and coax your girlfriend off of me, hm?"

Glenn had to slap a hand over his mouth to stop the loud bark of laughter. "Not a chance. I spent all winter sleeping next to your sister—I know how she is."

"For the record—I can hear the both of you!" Glenn quickly made his escape from the wrath of his girlfriend. Marshall didn't have that same luxury. "Just because you're not speaking or moving, doesn't mean you just disappear."

Marshall didn't address his twin directly, seeing as she had yet to pick-up her head from his shoulder, so at a temporary stalemate, he turned his attention to his sweet baby sister. "Sunny." He murmured, caressing her back, rousing her.

"Mm."

"The sun is up, and so should you be."

"No." Beth denied, eyes still stubbornly closed and she snuggled deeper against him.

"Oh, yes. C'mon, open your peepers. I need to look into the beautiful eyes of Sunshine incarnate and know with absolute certainty that the world does indeed continue to turn."

Beth rose her head, his trapper hat threatening to fall off, opened her eyes and stared directly into his for an intense 5 seconds, before she collapsed back boneless again. He chuckled, "See? I am vindicated." She then flipped over, giving her back to him and managing to stay on the edge of the small mattress.

"Mags? Mags? Hey, Mags? I know you're awake. Hey. Mags. Mags." He chanted repeatedly and annoyingly, wiggling his shoulder. "Maggie. Maggie. Magn-"

"Shut up." Maggie jabbed him in the side with her fingers, making him grunt and effectively silencing him. "Go away." She shoved at him.

Even before the apocalypse, Maggie Greene was not a Bright & Early kind of gal. Early was an inescapable reality, both Before and Now, and she had no issues with that. She may not have woken before 7 AM like Marshall, Hershel, and Otis, but she still rose earlier, just not Bright & Early. She could do Early, Bright, on the other hand was something that she refused to participate in. And if, even for one instant Marshall thought that he was going to call her by her full Christian name, then he had a reality check coming to him—i.e. her knee, which she had so kindly withheld the other day.

Instead of letting Maggie shove him into Beth on the other side, and knowing better than to stick around after pulling out the one thing that set his twin off immediately, Marshall followed Athena's mode of exit and somersaulted backward off the head of the mattress. Collecting his Berretta and machete on the way up as he popped onto his feet, he casually rearmed his person under the garnered stares.

Maggie groaned, burying her face in her arms, trying to block out the light and her twin. "I hate your guts."

Marshall stretched his arms overhead with a quiet groan. "Good morning to you, too, Crabby-pants." He bent and quickly ruffled her hair.

Maggie sat up swinging, already revved-up. Tangled hair in her eyes and sight blurred with the crust of sleep, her aim was a bit... wild, but landed on target anyway when he quickly rose knee in guard. What he was sure was meant for his Instant-KO button, ended up being a pretty harsh dead-leg. He grunted a curse of pain, stumbling back into Rick as he was floored by the radiating pain.

Daryl snorted. "Serves ya right." He muttered under his breath.

"You alright?" Rick questioned, steadying hands on his shoulders as Marshall massaged his thigh.

"It's fine, I just-"

"Don't be a baby," Maggie frowned up at him, combing her fingers through her knotted hair. "It wasn't even that hard."

"Shut up." He frowned, finally putting his leg down despite the lingering pain because she was right. It was smarting more than it should and he was a little wary of giving her, her birthday present. "You were aiming for my crotch."

"You know what you did."

"It's still a cheap shot!" He countered, shoving her back onto the mattress before jumping back to Rick again so she couldn't kick him in retaliation. He also may have stuck his tongue out.

"I know where you sleep." She threatened.

"You do?" He replied like a smartass. "Well, that's already more than I know. Kudos."

"Hate you." She growled.

"I, on the other hand—Love you~"

Beth groaned at both of her elder siblings. "You're both equally as annoying!"

"Is it gonna be like this every morning?" T-Dog wondered warily. They'd become so cohesive as a unit over the winter, he was sure he wasn't the only one wondering what kind of changes to that dynamic Marshall's return would bring. Their little sibling kafuffle had certainly been the wake-up call to the occupants of the neighbouring mattress.

"Nah, don't worry." Marshall promised. "I'm still screwing around in Cloud 9, I'll come down and it'll be even ground, then. It's just the 'coming home' elation. We'll find Michonne and Andrea, and Maggie will go back to snuggling-up with the BF, I'm sure. 'Sides, Sunny's much more agreeable in the mornings. Ain't that right, cupcake?" Beth silently raised her hand, giving him a thumbs-up—before turning it and raising her middle-finger. That got a few chuckles. "See?" But his green-eyes flicked over to their silent daddy, surprised the teen didn't even get a scolding 'Beth-Anne'. In fact, his daddy hadn't even reprimanded him and Maggie for being disruptive; Hershel had just silently watched.

"Looks like you might of had a bit of trouble falling asleep last night." Rick spoke up from his shoulder. "Was that also from Cloud 9 adrenaline?"

"Never realized how... isolated it was with just the 4 of us." Marshall admitted. "Plus—T-Dog's snore scared the shit outta me."

"Hey! C'mon, man." The man himself complained with embarrassment. "It's not like I can help that stuff."

"No finger-pointin' coming from here." Marshall held his hands up in innocence. It was definitely going to keep everyone on their toes whenever they had to camp outside though. "Once my heart settled back into my chest I found it funny as hell. It reminds me of summer camp!" He grinned.

"Is it time already?" Sophia mumbled, sitting up with her eyes still closed.

"Soon, baby." Carol rubbed her back, helping rouse her.

It had been a long night for the girl as well. Though she was exhausted, her anxiety and excitement, and the familiar yet unfamiliar company kept her on the edge of wakefulness. She had grown accustomed to falling asleep to Marshall's lullaby every night.

"Good morning, Butterfly." Marshall called gently. He had been worried about her, but he hadn't heard much fussing from that mattress all night so he was satisfied that she'd gotten sleep. Their first days on the road, he knew she'd only been able to sleep because of sheer exhaustion and literally being in his arms. It was easier to get her down through the night and with minor nightmares when they'd settled in one place for the winter with it being 'safer', despite her worrying and missing her mama. That routine they'd found would be disrupted for the 12-year-old as well, but he'd found Sophia to be very adaptable. Once he and the Peletiers had that much needed conversation and discussion, everything would settle properly.

"Mm. Morning, papa." Sophia mumbled rubbing the sleep from her eyes with one hand, while the other waved in his direction causing her to miss that various looks sent both their ways at the title. While Carol continued to give no outward reaction, Carl looked between man and kid with open confusion and curiosity, with Lori's and Hershel's frowns toward the 26-year-old were prominent.

Beth rose her arms out up in front of her and Marshall grabbed her forearms, pulling her to her feet. "Morning, Sunshine." He murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of her exposed forehead. She tugged the skewed trapper hat back down on her head. "You gonna give me my hat back?"

"Nope."

"I thought you said it stinks?"

"Your breath stinks." Was her comeback.

He snorted. "Wow. Okay. Where's the bathroom around here?" Marshall asked the room.

Daryl scoffed. "Plumbin' don't work no more, genius."

Marshall gave the hunter a surprise-Pikachu-face. "It doesn't?"

"Jackass."

"What do you think I'm gonna do in there?" He mused.

"How th' hell should I know?"

"You're so grumpy in the morning, Daryl~"

"And you're as wide-eyed and busy-tailed as ever." Maggie recounted, climbing to her feet and straightening her clothes. There was a beat of solemness from the Greenes at the reminder of Patricia. Marshall bopped her gently on the nose, breaking the spell.

"There's a bathroom upstairs." Hershel spoke-up.

"Don't take too long." Rick added. "I want to get a move-on as soon as."

"Don't worry, this pretty face is all natural." He winked. "Oh. You should know, Daryl," Marshall paused at the bottom of the staircase, looking over his shoulder to catch the man's eyes. "I'm a gentleman—I'll do it in the bushes before we leave." The involuntary snort was like pure music to his ears as he dashed up the stairs before the Dixon could somehow take it back.

"Everyone grab some breakfast and then we'll start packing up the cars..." Rick's voice faded as Marshall reached the top floor.

("Hey, Sophia?" Carl said. The 12-year-old's curiosity finally getting the better of him. "Why do you keep calling Marshall 'papa'?"

"Carl." Lori uttered in reprimand, eyes darting to Carol.

Carl frowned. "What? It's true! She just called him that now, and she did it yesterday, too. I was just asking why." He didn't understand what he did wrong.

Sophia did look at him like it was the dumbest questioned she had ever heard, though. "Because he's my papa? Why do you call Rick your dad?"

"Well, I mean, because..." He had to pause and think about. He turned his head, freckled expression scrunched as he scrutinized the man he called 'dad' across the room; the same blue-eyes returned the curious look. "Because... he protects me and wants what's best for me. He always tries to make me smile and feel safe. Even when I argue and don't listen to what he says, even when he's angry with me or he grounds me when I'm bad, I know he still loves me. He always comes home. He beat death, just for me." He turned back to his best-friend as his dad smiled softly.

"It's seems like you already know." Sophia whispered, hugging Marshmallow.

"Come on, Sophia," Carol simply said, ignoring everyone's expectations of a reaction, whether that was to correct and scold the girl or not. Everything Carl said, the exact things Sophia implied onto Marshall... that was exactly what a real father should be and that was absolutely everything that Ed was not toward his daughter. "You can help me get breakfast ready for everyone." She turned to the kitchen.

"Okay, mom. Here," The strawberry-blond offered the cat to the boy, "Can you take care of Marshmallow for a bit, Carl?"

"Sure!" Carl's eyes brightened as he accepted the cat into his arms.

"Can you feed him for me? I have food for him in my bag. There's already some wet food opened. Just let him lap it off of the spoon, okay? Just the one scoop." Carl nodded. "And some water? There's a little bowl for him."

"Got it." He agreed, and Sophia went to help her mom. With one arm around the cat, he pulled Sophia's nearby backpack closer, but ended up struggling with the zipper. "Mom, can you help me open it?"

"Sure, sweetie." Lori reached forward to unzipped the bag.

Carl dug in the bag one-handed for everything that Sophia said he would need. The small can was on top, which immediately had Marshmallow letting out hungry meows. There was some water left in the crumpled bottle, but he ended up slowly emptying her bag's contents on the mattress in search of the bowl and spoon. Lori was left to stare as amid clothing and other small assorted things, she noticed outliers; like glass baby bottles wrapped up in said article of clothing or a gently rattling bottle of prenatal vitamins.

"Here's breakfast!" Sophia announced her presence, holding two bowls.

"Sophia, sweetheart, what is all this?" Lori questioned softly, holding a bottle. "Why is all this in your bag?"

"Oh!" Sophia exclaimed in happy realization. "All that stuff's for you and the baby! Papa's been collecting all that stuff for you all winter. There used to be way more stuff, it all practically took over his bag, but a couple weeks ago... a lot of the stuff got wrecked and contaminated with piranha goo. Like a bunch of the baby formula he found." She frowned. "Even though some of the containers didn't look too damaged, he didn't want to risk hurting the baby. I've been carrying the rest until we found you, it's all yours now. Here's your breakfast!"

Lori absently took the bowls, having a silent internal minor breakdown. Carl may have been oblivious next to her, watching the cat in his arm lap at the spoon like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Everyone else, having heard everything the girl said, was not so ignorant.)

A pleasant shivered wracked through Marshall's body as he drew the angled straight razor across the taut skin of his lower face. He didn't even need the grungy mirror to see what he was doing at this point in his life, but there was just something about the physical sensations coupled not only with the audible, but the visually clean and smooth skin that just enhanced the gratification of the activity. It was nice to just steal 5-minutes of solitude to loiter and process before the rest of the day kicked-on with no stop.

He cleaned off the blade and stowed the folded razor back into his pant pocket. It was just a rudimentary, stainless steel black-handled one that he'd nipped from a legit barber shop. His original, the one that was left sat in his shaving kit at the farm, his daddy had gifted that to him for his 18th birthday. The razor had been replaced, but the refurbished handle had been made from genuine animal bone that had belonged to his great-great-granddaddy.

He cracked his neck and turned from the smudged mirror, ready to head back into the lion's den of chaos and tension and track down Samurai-sama and City Girl, but paused before he could leave the bathroom. Who knew when he would next get a private minute alone, especially within a group this size? It was easier with just the 4 of them, they had a loose orbit around each other with the occasional stray, but they weren't wanting of space from each other.

He reached for his double ring belt securing his pants and loosened it, undoing the snap and zipper on his pants. His tactical belt that secured his machete, his thigh holster, his extra magazines and various other little pouches was simply secure around his waist. His double-ring was what actually secured his pants to his body, typically, he wouldn't even need a belt, despite all the various items that would accumulate to weigh down his pockets, but these were not his pants, they didn't fit him just-right, they fit him just-off. The double-ring was just a habit he had kept because he found them to make excellent tourniquet in the field. Unlike regular belts, because of the material they were made from, and the design on the clasp, they could go as small and as tight as needed.

The right side of his pants didn't make it far down because of his thigh holster, but that was fine, his left side nearly pulled down to his knee—to reveal the large dark purple bruise that decorated the side of his hairy thigh. No wonder Maggie's punch had packed such a damn wallop! He knew the contusion didn't come from his twin, so where-? A frown of thought pulled at his mouth. Ah. Yesterday, must've been. When Sophia's fire poker whacked him after she'd tripped and he'd caught her.

Someone banged on the door. They gave him no time to pull up his pants or answer before they opened the door. "What happened to everything being 'all natural', Marshall? What's even taking you-?" The teen stopped short at the sight of before her of her brother's pants down. "Ew! What the hell are you doing?!"

"Beth," Marshall huffed. "Don't just knock like that and then barge in." He tried to pull his pants up.

"Me-?! Wait—what's that?" She stopped him, spotting the dark bruise. "Is that from Maggie?!" She exclaimed. "God, she really is a beast."

Marshall rolled his eyes. "Of course it's not." He pulled his pants up and tightening his belt back up. "So, what's so important you had to barge in on me? I haven't even been 10-minutes."

"Well, you also have to eat something—and shit in the bushes, as you so delicately put it—before we head-off."

He snorted. "Nice."

"If that was you trying to flirt with Daryl, I think it was badly done." Beth joked before she turned and skipped down the stairs. "Now, let's go." Marshall followed his baby sister down the stairs by sliding down the rail, the ass of his pants collecting up the dust from the banister.

"Maggie," Beth called her sister's attention, "You need to stop beating-up Marshall, you know he bruises easily like the delicate peach he is." Maggie looked up at her sister from her breakfast before blinking at her twin, Marshall just shrugged in amusement. "I also think that everybody deserves to know…" Beth next spoke-up, drawing everyone else's attention that hadn't already been, "Marshall is wearing leopard-patterned underwear!" In replay, everyone looked from the teen and to the man at the bottom of the stairs petting his canine.

"You know... I know you think you're embarrassing me, but I'll have you know, I'm pleased with having found those. I also have a zebra-patterned pair that I am absolutely delighted for."

"It's embarrassing that you're not embarrassed about anything that you just said." Beth pouted, her arms crossed. "It makes me embarrassed for you."

"I find nothing shameful in that sentence." Marshall countered. "In fact, ya'll need to re-up on the underclothes, you should try hitting-up a lingerie boutique. The one we came across was virtually untouched."

"You sayin' you're wearin' ladies underwear?" Daryl raised a brow.

Marshall winked. "Michonne claimed the matching brassieres." He joked. He giggled at everyone's expressions. "Of course, I'm not—women's' underwear has, mm... zero support." He tacked-on with a straight-face. He laughed at their expressions again. "Grow-up! Also, lingerie boutiques aren't just for women, FYI."

"Marshall, I think that's quite enough of that." Hershel said.

Marshall's lips pursed, but instead of replying that it was, in fact, a rather reasonable and informative conversation, simply stayed silent as he straightened from Athena.

"Here's your breakfast, Marshall." Carol was the one to hand it to him.

"Oh, thank you, Carol." He gave her a genuine smile. He touched her arm, stopping the woman when she went to turn away. "I know that we need to speak—the two of us, the three of us—you deserve an explanation, you deserved the whole story." He looked her in the eye. "But, it's not just a 5-minute conversation or a 5-minute decision. I know it's a lot to ask of you as a mama concerned for her daughter... I'm asking if you could wait a little bit longer for the answers until we find Andrea and my friend so that it can get the attention the subject deserves?"

Carol hadn't looked away, her gaze penetrating him as she regarded the younger man before her. With this single look, Marshall realized just how much Carol had changed over the winter, how much more stronger and confident in herself she had become. There was a slump to her shoulders that was no longer there, a confidence in herself that Ed had beaten away. Previously at the farm, the only such confidence he'd seen from her had been as a protective mother to her daughter but none of self.

"I agree." She finally spoke, her voice soft but tone firm. "This isn't a simple conversation. This is about more than you and me. When we find the others, we will be having this discussion, Marshall. Just because you saved my daughter twice, does not give you blanket immunity, but it does give me enough trust to allow you this. You brought her back to me, and that's enough for now."

"Thank you, Carol." He murmured sincerely. There was a brief pause before he spoke again, "Would you also be able to wipe that whole... women's underwear bit from your memory?" He gave her his most boyish charming smile.

There was quiet humour in her blue-eyes. "Oh, no way, pumpkin. Uh-uh." Carol chuckled at his pout of embarrassment. She patted his cheek. "That's locked-in up there forever."

"I deserve that." He agreed solemnly. "Thanks for the food."

"No problem." Carol paid no attention to the gazes that quickly darted away when she turned around.

Marshall simply tucked into his portion of breakfast as he leaned against the banister. Those that had already finished their breakfast turned their dishes in for a quick wash before they were packed away, and they started shifting their supplies from the house and into the vehicles. Marshall grabbed his pack, sorting through it for a few items as the others trickled from the empty house and Rick did a final walk-through to make sure nothing was left behind.

"Yo, Mags, hold-up." Marshall called his sister, swinging one strap over his shoulder, toothbrush and toothpaste sticking out of his pocket, his other obscured behind his back.

Maggie stopped, pushing Glenn ahead of her. "What's up?"

"Got you somethin'."

She raised a brow. "You did?"

"Yup." He lifted his hand from behind his back and held the contents aloft to her.

Maggie looked from his face to his hand. She stared at the pair of sap gloves for a moment before taking them, examining them with interest. The knuckles didn't just have metal plating between two layers of material, they were metal studs, like wearing a pair of brass knuckles on each hand. A metal plate on the back of the hands. There was even metal nubs at her fingertips. She pulled back the Velcro straps around the wrists and slipped the gloves onto her hands. There was a slight weight to them, but that was to be expected. She flexed her fingers experimentally, curling her hands into fists to see how it felt.

They fit, well, like a glove!

"They fit good?"

She smiled. "They're perfect."

"Good. Happy birthday. Sorry I'm a little late, commuting these days is... a nightmare." He snickered at his own bad joke.

Her eyes widened. "I can't believe I completely forgot!" She threw her arms around his neck. "I didn't get you anything." She mumbled in regret.

His arms wrapped around her waist. "You're alive, that's the best present around."

Her arms tightened as she gulped around the lump in her throat. "You couldn't see it, but my eyes just rolled so hard."

"See it? No. I did feel it though—the judgement, deep in my twinly-bones."

"Ugh."

"Oh, just felt it there again."

"Shut up." She pulled back with a chuckle, pushing his shoulder. "That second one was doubly deserved and you know it. Every time you try to superimpose 'twin' into something is so cringe."

"Well, I enjoy it." He replied snootily. "And I'll still be doing it when we're 60."

"If you haven't had an accident by then that may or may not include my hands, your face, and a pillow..." Maggie deadpanned. "Then I probably developed dementia."

"Sounds like fun." He laughed. "The adventure of life is always in the mystery. Old-in-body, young-in-spirit! C'mon." He grabbed her gloved hands and started dancing in the abandoned living room.:

time, keeps rollin', rollin', I
keep hopin', keep hopin', I
got a ways to go
the only thing we can't control is-

take me back
to riding bikes around the cul-de-sac
and jumping over sidewalk cracks
with my brother after school [ooh]
dreams we had
never know we would grow up so fast
and summers under the sun don't last
even if you want them to [ooh]
then suddenly I woke up one day
looking more like my dad
the world don't seem so big no more
and I gotta face the facts

"Oh, God." She groaned, trying to twist free but only ended up getting spun by him.:

time, keeps rollin', rollin', I
keep hopin', keep hopin', I
got a ways to go
the only thing we can't control is
time, ain't waitin', waitin', I
keep prayin', prayin', I
make the most of mine
and live my life before I run out of [time]

take me back
to the river by the railroad tracks
in the backseat of that Pontiac
learnin' how to fall in love [ooh]
oh, the harder you try
you just can't slow it down
'cause the days turn to nights
now the year goes around
and you laugh and you cry
people change and they die
and it all leads to now
funny when you think about

"You know, I can actually break your jaw now thanks to these gloves you gave me." Maggie warned him.

"You say that, yet your smiling~"

"Shut up. No, I'm not." She pursed her lips and he laughed at her.:

time, keeps rollin', rollin', I
keep hopin', keep hopin', I
got a ways to go
the only thing we can't control is
time, ain't waitin', waitin', I
keep prayin', prayin', I
make the most of mine
and live my life before I run out of [time]

time, time, time
then suddenly I woke up one day
lookin' more like my dad
if he was here, I bet he'd tell you-

"Sorry to interrupt-" Rick cleared his throat.

"Oh, thank, God!" Maggie managed to finally break away from her twin. "Why don't you dance with Rick!" She fled the house like it was on fire, face red.

"the only thing you can't get back is time~" Marshall chuckled, turning to glance over at Rick, only to find the man already looking at him. "What d'ya say, Partner?" Marshall over his hand, palm out. "Wanna dance?"

Rick chuckled, shaking his head shortly. "Maybe another time."

"Promises, promises. It's my breath, isn't it?" Marshall whipped out his toothbrush and paste. "Beth said it stunk." He took off the travel cap over the bristles and squirted on some paste. He stuck it in his mouth and started to brush. "I never got to before bedtime."

"Your breath is fine." He rolled his eyes in amusement. "C'mon," Rick started out the front door. "We got-"

"Wait, wait!" Rick paused a turned back in question. "Got somethin' for you, too." Marshall was doing a bad multi-task of trying to brush his teeth with one hand while digging around the bottom of his pack with the other.

Rick's brow rose. "Did you get me a birthday present, too?" He joked. "You kinda missed it by a long way. Actually, I missed it, too. I was in my coma... huh." He realized. "I guess that actually makes me 33 instead of 32." He shook his head to clear his mind. "Sorry, you were saying?"

"Well, I'll say you don't look a day over 32, Coma Boy." Marshall gave him an exaggerated wink, toothpaste foam at the corners of his mouth. "Here ya go!" He presented the man with a found item.

Rick took it in hand, it took him a moment to realize it was an empty sheath, but subconsciously he already recognized the distinct curve of it. "Oh," He realized. "I was meaning to give it back to you..." He pulled out the 8-inch kukri knife from his weapons belt; because he hadn't had the sheath and its unique shape, he'd cut out the bottom of one of the pouches on his gun belt as a makeshift holster on his let side.

"Pull down as you push it in," Marshall told him, "Or you'll end up splitting the sheath and slicing off your fingers."

"Right." Rick did as instructed, the blade sliding in smoothly after adjustment. He handed the knife back to its original owner and turned to leave- only to stumble backward as his belt was caught.

"I wasn't asking for it back, dumb-dumb." Marshall rolled his eyes, his toothbrush bobbing at the corner of his mouth. "I already gave it to you." He clipped the sheath to the back of his gun belt next to the handcuff clip, the handle facing toward his left hip. "Remember to push down as you pull it out to compensate for the curve at the front, hm?" He reminded, finally pulling back.

"Thank you." Rick voiced after a moment, still facing the door.

"Mm." He pulled out the toothbrush but kept the spit in his cheek, it felt piggish to spit in the house despite them leaving it anyway. "You were saying before I interrupted your exit?"

"I was saying... We got a search to get started." There was a half-second pause before he swaggered out the door.

Marshall smirked. "With that swagger, I might just follow you into fire, Grimes." He hiked the strap of his pack on his shoulder as he followed the man out of the house. He paused on the door steps to spit paste into the dead flowerbed before sparing a swig of water to rinse and pack everything back up.

"Everybody, listen up." Rick called the attention of the Group. "Y'all already know the plan is searching for Andrea and Michonne before we get out of town—Marshall's going to give the details."

"Yes, yes. Gather 'round, my lovelies." Marshall hopped down the steps, slinging his pack (minus his bow and quiver) into the open trunk of the Banana Mopeel before whipping out his maps and laying them atop the front hood as the others created a semi circle. "Alright. This is our current location. The Deer Cooler where they were holed up is here." He used a twig plucked from windshield as a pointer. "We think the herd came up from this lumber road, and we lured them away into downtown." He circled the area. "This is the neighbourhood that Glenn, T, and I searched last night before finally throwing in the towel. We still have a lot more residential area to search through, so it will be a busy-busy day. Anyway, the piranha activity in those areas will determine if we go about it Loud or Quiet, but with more bodies, it'll be more efficient if we split into three units and take the blocks parallel."

"You want to split up?" Lori questioned incredulously. "Even though that's the whole reason we need to do this search in the first place?"

"Lori." The frown Rick sent her way was heavy.

"If we do it Quiet," Marshall explained, ignoring the by-play and the implied accusations, "Two search parties, one for either side of the block. The remaining will have the multi-tiered task of guarding the cars, keeping perimeter watch, and acting as getaway drivers... We go in Loud-"

T-Dog scoffed, "And he means loud. Nearly screamed himself hoarse last night."

Marshall shrugged. "Desperate times, desperate measures. If we go Loud, it'll be best to stay close, if not stay in the cars altogether..."

"What?" Daryl questioned when the man's green-gaze trained on him.

"We go Loud, you might want to consider taking a partner on the bike of yours—watch your back with the drawn piranha." Marshall held up his hands before the hunter could respond, "Don't worry, I wasn't suggesting me."

"Good." He huffed shortly. "That it?"

"No, actually. Since we'll already be out searching for Michonne and Andrea in these areas, I have a little side-quest." Marshall waved the torn out phonebook pages, "While Sophia and I were out trying to find you all, we were also trying to find medicine for Andrea. I found these specific address in the phonebook that belonged to any form of doctor that had a private in-residence office or practice." He handed the pages over to Hershel at his daddy's quiet request. "You may or may not have already picked through them."

"It's a good find and worth a shot in looking." Hershel agreed, handing the pages back.

"Thanks, daddy."

"We can always use medicine and medical supplies." Hershel gave Rick a pointed look. Lori self-consciously shifted as all gazes turned to her. "We've been lucky all winter with no major injury."

"Agreed." Rick said simply. "Daryl in front with- I assume you're driving the Pinto?" He asked Marshall.

"The Banana Mopeel." Marshall folded up his maps.

"What?"

"Its name is 'The Banana Mopeel'. I know you know it. You haven't even said it once, Rick."

Rick stared at him for a heavy moment before he sighed. "I assume you are driving the... Banana Mopeel, Marshall. Correct?"

Marshall grinned and Glenn snickered into his hand. "You assume correctly, sir."

"You and Daryl in the front lead. The Hyundai, then the truck." Rick concluded order of procession. Let's get a move-on." He headed toward the Hyundai himself.

"If he can say it, why can't you?" Marshall joked to Daryl as the hunter passed.

Daryl snorted, didn't stop, didn't even turn around. "It's still a stupid fuckin' name."

Beth quickly claimed The Banana Mopeel front passenger seat as hers, Marshall had promised that she could cling to him like an octopus all day and she planned on holding him to it. Athena, of course, was going nowhere else but the backseat. And the rest... there had been momentary clog in the usually smooth running gears with just the addition of two more bodies to the Group.

Maggie, Glenn, and Hershel were the typical occupants of the truck. Though the tension between Rick and Lori was deathly quiet, but deathly high, the pregnant woman avoided Athena at every turn she could so that meant that she never occupied the same vehicle as Beth, and Beth only ever occupied The Banana Mopeel. Carl never strayed far from either parent, so that left the Grimes Family in occupation of the Hyundai. T-Dog was typically Beth's co-pilot, the sunshine-blond teen with 90% claim on driving said Banana Mopeel, and Carol usually tended to shuffle between the Hyundai and Pinto.

Now, Marshall was driving the Banana Mopeel... and Sophia wanted to go with her papa, but stick with her mom... and Carol, she knew with the upcoming task at hand: Herself, Lori, Hershel, Carl and Sophia were going to be the Group that stayed with the vehicles, so she thought it was just the most sufficient to just keep the kids together from the start.

"Why the frown?" Marshall murmured softly, poking her freckled cheek. "Once we find Michonne and Andrea, me and your mama are gonna have that talk. Everything will get sorted, everything will fall into place. Hm?" She nodded, hugging his waist. He stroked her head before he gently tugged a braid, causing her to step back. "Stick with Carl, keep Marshmallow on a tight-leash. And, here..." He dug around in his pockets for a moment before coming up with some slightly squished pieces of grape Hubba Bubba, dropping them into her hands with Marshmallow back in Chips, "Blow some bubbles with Little Grimes." He sent her off.

Rick drove the Hyundai, Lori in the passenger seat with the back occupied by Carol, Sophia, Marshmallow, and Carl. The truck was driven by Glenn, accompanied by T-Dog. While the Greene Family decided to take sole occupation of The Banana Mopeel:

"Oooh, Family Road Trip in the Apocalypse!" Marshall cheered, though the atmosphere wasn't very cheery, even looking past the apocalypse and their missing people. Beth was a little grumpy in the backseat as a result of the shuffling.

"I claimed shotgun." She had complained.

"Sunny, you're not shoving daddy into the backseat." Marshall frowned. Seriously, what was with the friction between those two? Maybe he could use this little family catch-up to figure it out.

"So," Maggie sat forward, a teasing lilt to her tone as Marshall drove, "Are you gonna tell your family about your gurl-friend? You know, the one that has matching brassieres?"

"Yes, dear big brother," Beth grinned, "The one you're bringing home to the family."

A boyish giddy grin lit-up his entire face, wiping away any lines of worry and tiredness. "She is totally my second-best-friend!"

The sisters exchanged a look as they sat back, sharing an eye roll and chuckle at their doofus of a brother.

"Right." Maggie said. "Your second best-friend, huh?"

"We're assuming you're talking unrelated-best-friends..." Beth added pointedly.

"Of course." Marshall agreed.

"So, who's your number-one-best-friend, then?" Maggie finished.

"Rick, duh!" Was the immediate answer. The sisters shared more smiles. "Look at me," He declared, "I'm making friends left and right in the apocalypse." His right hand came off the wheel and he flashed two wiggling fingers at his sisters in the backseat, almost bouncing in excitement, before quickly putting both hands back on the wheel before Hershel could scold him. "I can't wait for Rick and Michonne to meet, it's gonna be great! My two-best-friends will become best-friends with each other—and then we can be The Three Best-Friends! The Three Amigos?" He work shopped, "The Three Musketeers? Uh... M 'n' M and Gatorade!"

Peels of laughter irrupted from the backseat, Athena barking along.

"Is 'Gatorade' supposed to be Rick?!" Beth squealed.

"Why not just call yourselves Snap, Crackle & Pop!?"

"No, no." Beth waved her hand at Maggie. "Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup!"

"The Powderpuff Girls!" Maggie howled. "That's even better!"

Marshall pouted. "You guys are so mean. Daddy, they're making fun of me!"

Hershel was quietly content for the first time in a long time, surrounded by his children's laughter. With the rift between him and Beth these last months, it was nice to see that sunshine again but he knew as soon as he opened his mouth, she would shutdown again.

Maggie and Beth were left gasping for breath in the backseat, spontaneous snickers bubbling up every time they met eyes over Athena's head. Marshall was pleased, it hadn't been his intention to set them off, of course, but he was happy that such a thing still existed in them. "Hardy-har-har, you're a bunch of butt holes."

"So, uh," Maggie cleared her throat. "Do Rick and Michonne know this? Your ranking of them on your best-friend list?"

"Well, yeah... I told Michonne she was my #2, that Rick literally got there a day before her. She told me that Andrea was her #1 best-friend," He made a face, "So, I guess that's fair."

"And Rick?"

Marshall opened his mouth. Nothing came out and it closed with a click.

"Marshall?" Beth poked his shoulder in prompt.

Marshall's grip tightened on the wheel, gaze shifting to the side-mirror where he could vaguely make out Rick in the driver's seat of the Hyundai beyond the bright reflection of the sun on the windshield. Rick had called him a 'good friend' and that was as far as they got before all hell broke loose. Good Friend, that was it. Marshall had told Rick, he never had a friend that wasn't related to him before... so that automatically shuffled Rick Grimes into the tippity-top #1 Best-Friend slot.

"Oh, no." Marshall uttered in sickening realization. "I'm being desperate and pathetic again." His gaze fixed ahead on the worn angel wings on Daryl's back riding at the head, his growing hair over the past months whipping in the wind. "Is this like Daryl all over again—except Rick's too nice to tell me to 'fuck-off'?"

Beth gaped at her brother, dumbfounded. What the actual hell? Before her lips pursed tight and her blue-eyes narrowed to glare at the man riding in front of them. Daryl actually had the gall to say that to her amazing big brother?

Maggie gripped his shoulder reassuringly. "Rick's not like that and you know it, Mar. I'd say we got to know him pretty well over the winter—it's kind of hard not to while living in each others' back pockets for 4 months—he wouldn't string you along, his conscious wouldn't let him. He genuinely likes and respects you. It's already easy to see the silent weight that has been slowly crushing him these last few months is lifting."

"You're right." Marshall sighed. Still. Now that it had come up, he was worried he'd blown it out of proportion...

"And Daryl's a Secret Softy!" Beth declared. "He was just raised to believe that that's something he should be ashamed about by his shitty family."

"Beth-Anne." Hershel scolded.

"What?" Beth scowled at the back of his head in the seat in front of her. "It's true. Carl told me what his big brother was like at their first camp outside of Atlanta; he was always yelling at everyone, calling them slurs, trying to pick fights—and he wasn't any nicer to Daryl. He didn't sound like a very good big brother at all." She decided. "And we've all heard the story about how he got left behind in Atlanta—they found his severed hand and Daryl still thinks he's alive."

"You mean like you had faith all this time that I was still out there and alive?" Marshall pointed out, voice low and challenging.

Beth was only stalled for a moment. "That's different-! You're an Army Ranger, you're-"

Hershel spoke-up, "I also believe that Merle Dixon was a Sergeant in the Army at least 2 decades ago."

Beth silently sneered at the back of his seat. "You-"

"Stop." Marshall said and her mouth clicked shut. "In the grand scheme, the only thing that matters, the undeniable commonality between Merle and I... we're Big Brothers. Period. And as a younger sibling who has experience missing her big brother, I think you would have some sympathy for Daryl, no?"

Beth looked away, unable to meet his steady eye in the rear-view mirror. She swallowed and licked her lips. "You saw all his scars-"

"Beth," He frowned, his expression serious, his hands gripping the steering wheel. "It's easy to look at things from the outside, when you have no personal stake." He thought all the scars that painted Daryl's skin, remembered that bit of 'weakness' Daryl had given him when they had talked, however briefly, about their brothers... Daryl loved Merle, that was so clear for Marshall to see, no matter how tumultuous their relationship may be. "You can have your opinions but until you meet Merle yourself, until Daryl tells you about it himself, it's none of your business. Don't you dare say any of that to Daryl. How would you react if someone said any of that to you about me or Shanwy?" Marshall continued to follow the path of the Angel-winged Hunter, unaware of the true meaning to the heaviness in the silence that followed—because the 3 other Greenes knew exactly how the teenager would react to such an event, sister and father being both witness and perpetrator (in the same day, no less).

"How's your shoulder?" Hershel changed the subject.

"What?" Marshall blinked distractedly over at his father.

"Your shoulder, Marshall." He said patiently. "Did you have trouble with it? Did it heal well?"

"Oh." Marshall sucked on his teeth. "Yes."

Hershel sighed. "Marshall Elijah, what did you do?"

"I didn't break my collarbone?" He gave a nervous smile. Hershel's stern gaze didn't leave the side of his face. "I didn't!" He swore. "It was a bit rough the first week or so," He admitted, "I popped the stitches on the farm and didn't get to patch it up until well into the next morning. It was a little difficult to keep it closed," (He hadn't wanted to waste the one suture kit he had on an inevitable event; it was a good thing, too, because those were the stitches that had gone into closing up Sophia's calf) "So, it took a bit longer to heal in the run of it, thus it scarred a little more than it should have-" He flinched when he unexpectedly felt the older man's hands pulling at his jacket and shirt collar. It was only years of experience and skill that prevented him from jerking the steering wheel and sending the Banana Mopeel crashing into a neighbouring abandoned car on the road. "Wha-?! Daddy, I'm driving!" Marshall exclaimed, genuinely scandalized by his father's reckless behaviour.

"Yes, so I suggest you pay attention to the road."

"You surprised me." He defended himself.

"And hold still." Hershel added.

Marshall frowned. "If you're so insistent, you can look at it after we pull over."

"Shut up and drive, Marshall." Maggie added her two-cents, her and Beth both leaning forward for their own look as Hershel pulled back his jacket over his shoulder before stretching down the neck of his sweater.

There was silence as Marshall felt his daddy's warm, probing fingers. He didn't even have to look out the corner of his eye properly to know the exact frown that was etched onto his father's bearded mouth.

"What did you do to it?" Beth uttered. She'd never gotten to have her own proper look at it when he was first shot or after their daddy had it all stitched up, but she knew enough that it wasn't supposed to be as large or as thick as it was.

"I told you it reopened a few times."

"A few times?" Maggie repeated with clear disbelief.

"Yes." He said succinctly hoping they would stop with the repeating and the tone.

Hershel's quiet sigh was laden with rebuke and disappointment as he righted his son's collar and sat back in the seat. "You should have stayed in bed." Hershel scolded him.

'Instead of fooling around in the woods' Marshall heard the echo in his head. His jaw tightened. "What was I supposed to do, daddy?"

"That man killed your uncle. He killed Jimmy. He almost killed you."

"I wasn't out there for him." Marshall said. "It wasn't about him."

"None of that was even Marshall's fault," Beth defended, tense. "If Andrea knew how to use a stupid gun. Why are you trying so hard to find her, anyway?" She questioned her brother, not over (and never going to be) her justified grudge against the woman.

"Look, I'm not Andrea's biggest-fan or any kind of fan of hers either, but I'm not just gonna leave her out there to die. I'm also worried about Michonne. She can take care of herself, she was surviving by herself for a long time, but she wasn't living." She was haunting her own Barn in the form of two chained piranha, Marshall thought. He glanced at his now silent daddy and his baby sister in the rear-view. He opened his mouth, finally about to voice the question of what the hell was up between the two of them when there was a snicker from the backseat.

"M 'n' M and Gatorade."

And then both of his sisters were taken with the giggles again.

Marshall sighed with a fond eye roll as the rest of the drive was inlaid with intermittent giggle-fits. It wasn't pressing as it was more of a personal worry; what the hell caused the rift between his baby sister and daddy? It wasn't like there weren't disagreements between them before, as was natural between child and parent. He wondered if he was something lingering from her upset of Hershel leaving them without a word to go get drunk or if it was something that transpired during the winter. He would be a hypocrite saying he didn't still have trust issues with their daddy himself.

The rumble of Daryl's motorcycle engine cut after he came to a stop, feet planted to steady the heavy machine on its stand. He could see scattered walkers on the street, their attention now drawn, but he wasn't worried about it. It would take a hot minute for them to be in crossbow range, let alone knife range. Individually, it was easier than shooting squirrels, when they clustered up was when it was time to get worried. The yellow clown car pulled rightward of him, but leaving a big enough gap between them for the truck to fit through. The Hyundai and truck parked similarly behind leaving them clustered, but not close enough that it they had to leave in a hurry they'd end up ramming into each other or getting jammed up in the scramble to escape. The street had a vague familiarity about it, but he figured they all would. They'd spent all winter circling this place like a fucking drain.

Everyone started to get out of their respective vehicles, eyes trained on their surroundings first.

"Don't wander off." Lori told Carl like she did every time.

"I know." Carl said.

Sophia looked ridiculous in a cute sort of way (that Daryl would never admit to), with that cat strapped to her chest in a damned stuffed animal; no doubt Marshall's doing. It'd only been a day, but he still caught himself having to take a second look every time his gaze crossed her. He didn't have the same problem with Marshall, even when the man was quiet, he was never damn quiet.

Athena followed Marshall out his door and didn't stray more than 10 feet from him as she briefly investigated the area. He ducked back in for his bow and quiver before closing the door.

"That looked like a pretty active car ride." Rick greeted Marshall with a bemused look at his giggling sisters as they passed.

"Well, as I'm sure you've come to experience many times now—family road trips aren't always sing-along's and games of I-Spy." Marshall said, eyes rolling after his sisters.

Rick's expression was weighted with sympathy. "More now than ever before." He agreed with a wry sigh.

"And I still don't know what the hell is up between Sunny and daddy." He grumbled, fixing his quiver around his waist with his bow laid on the roof of his car.

Rick sighed. "That's something you're just going to have to talk with them about."

"So, you know, then." Marshall narrowed his eyes. "Tell me."

"I would like to reiterate my previous statement." Rick declined. His gaze more purposefully checking out the area.

Marshall's lips pursed in a bout of frustration before it all smoothed out. "Not even now? Just a little hint?" Rick glanced back at him to a find full-blown puppy-dog eyes staring into his soul.

"Close, so close, Mars." Rick booped him on the nose. "But no cigar."

Marshall clicked his tongue in annoyance, his expression downcast in disappoint at not obtaining the easy-out, until he snapped upright, sudden sharp gaze fixed on the other man. "What did you just call me?"

"What?" Rick blinked at the visceral reaction.

"What did you call me?" Marshall repeated intensely.

"Mars?" He drew it out slowly in confusion. "I've called you that before." Rick reminded.

"What? No, you haven't. I would've noticed." Rick gave him a dubious look. "When?!" He demanded.

"You might not have realized because you crying at the time." Rick pointed out gently.

"Oh." He realized. "That makes sense. I totally would have noticed otherwise."

"Why are you so excited about this? You call me nicknames all the time."

"Yeah, descriptive nicknames and titles." He flapped his hand. "Like 'Cowboy' and 'Deputy'. Not nickname-nicknames, and calling you 'Grimes' doesn't count. What's your full-name?" Marshall asked. "You know mine."

"Richard D. Grimes."

Marshall's focus became completely diverted. "What's the 'D' stand for?"

Rick coyly shrugged his shoulder.

"Really, it's like that, huh?"

Rick shrugged again.

"Are you sure it's not really 'M' for you trying to be all mysterious?"

"Richard D. Grimes." He repeated.

He deadpanned. "It's not 'deputy', is it?"

Rick snorted. "No, my middle name is not 'deputy', Marshall."

"I suppose I can believe that." Marshall allowed. It was followed by: "Aw, it'd be super cute if it was 'Daryl'."

"You find that cute, huh?" He was amused.

Marshall paused before nodding with a giggle. "Yeah."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but it's not 'Daryl'." Marshall eyed him. Rick stared back straight-faced. It was a weird thing to fixate on, but- "What, you don't believe me?"

"I'm still thinking about it..."

"If you two are done braiding each other's hair," Daryl interrupted. "We got people to find." Their conversation had just been useless background noise behind him until he subconscious registered his own name.

Marshall turned to the hunter, lazer-focused. "How do you spell your name?"

"What?" Daryl blinked at him for a second. "None of your business."

"Okay. Well, what about your middle name, then?" He tried.

"None of your business." Daryl grunted, turning and walking away to the other vehicles.

Marshall turned after him and called. "I will find out. I'm like a dog with a bone."

"Shut up."

Rick laughed behind him. Marshall spun, pointing at him. "You're not off the hook either, Mister."

Rick held up his hands in innocence. "Just a little... fun between friends." He backed away.

"I will figure it out!"

"I believe in you, Mars."

"Don't try and distract me!" He protested, his face warm.

"C'mon," He smiled. "We got stuff to do."

Marshall grabbed his compound bow from the roof and followed after, Athena following at his heel. Rick and Daryl were right, after all, they had stuff to do, people to find.

[tWD]

where'd you go
I miss you so
seems like it's be forever
that you've been gone
please come back home

Marshall stared up at the darkening sky, chewing a piece of gum tasteless as Athena sat at his feet, her warmth and presence against his leg. "You'll like her," He murmured. "Hopscotch did and you know how picky she was."

"I'm sorry, Marshall." Rick spoke softly as he stopped beside the man, gaze fixed out onto the street instead of the sky as the others settled into their new residence for the night. "I just don't know what else we can do—they're not here anymore."

"Nothin' to be sorry for. I'm the one that miscalculated."

"Marshall-" Rick shook his head.

"They're not dead." Marshall said quietly, but firmly.

"I never said that." Rick continued, sympathetic but unrelenting, "But you said yourself, Andrea was sick enough that she couldn't travel anymore-"

Marshall scoffed, cutting him off. "I told Andrea this to her face, so, I see no problem saying it now. If she was a goner—a true goner—I would have put her out of her damn misery. Like putting down a sick animal, because we're all just animals in the end. If Andrea was a lost cause... I sure as hell never would have left Michonne behind. They're not dead," He repeated. "They just went home."

Rick shook his head in confusion. "Home?"

"Yeah." Marshall finally looked at him, and with a smile that was a little too bright. "Home. Our winter oasis. I made the assumption that they went through the bulk of the herd. Why? When they could have gone out the back-fucking-door? So, whoops. That was my-bad. They went out the back door, bypassed the herd, grabbed a car and went back to last safe place they knew—it's the right idea 'cause God knows this place," His face soured pettily, "Allie, can suck my testicle.

"There. That's the plan tomorrow," He decided, dusting his hands, decision made. "We're getting the fuck outta this piranha infested town and it can stay in the rear-view mirror. Two herds in two weeks?" He scowled. "They should have thrown some napalm down on this place."

"Two herds?" Rick questioned.

"Yeah. When we first got to town. Got stuck in an apartment building, had to hole-up for a week, let it thin out. It's what killed Boomer and Hopscotch—it was also the reason we got out of there alive." He swallowed, "A good portion of piranha were distracted by tearing them apart..."

"I'm sorry." Rick squeezed his shoulder.

"Just more screaming in my head, that's all." Marshall said, staring back up into the sky. "If you were confused, I'm taking watch."

"Okay." He agreed. "I'll bring you out something when food's ready."

"Don't bother. I'm not hungry."

"Marshall-"

"I'm chewing gum." He dismissed. "Just give my portion to Lori, or split it between the kids."

Rick sighed. "Alright." He finally agreed, although not happily. "You're right about leaving this town behind, I'll tell the others that's the plan." Marshall silently nodded. Rick waited another moment; waiting, watching before he turned and went into the house.

Marshall squatted and hugged Athena. All day, Loud and Quiet, it hadn't mattered one iota. There had been no sign, hide nor hair of Michonne and Andrea, let alone any other living human in this God forsaken town. And Marshall was pissed and annoyed. At himself, the world, the piranha, even Andrea and Michonne. They could have stayed in The damn Deer Cooler. The place had been clean, unbreached. But that anger would get him nothing and nowhere. They had a plan, they knew the next step, and if that also didn't pan out... then Marshall knew that they would just have move-on and have hope.

So, he hugged Athena and he breathed it out.

...

True night had descended, yet there was never true darkness. Georgian skies tended to be clear, so no matter the stage of the moon, no matter the lack of working streetlights, he didn't have to worry about not seeing a piranha coming, not to mention the four-legged warning systems at his side. He stood in the middle of the abandoned street, and the stars in the sky were as clear as ever, clearer even more so now that he wouldn't have to contend with or worry about city air pollution anymore. He paused and wished he hadn't had the wry thought because now he wondered about the working nuclear plants.

Those spiralling thoughts were thankfully interrupted by the sound of quiet steps coming up behind him, but he didn't need Athena's passive acknowledgement to know it wasn't a piranha. He turned, expecting Beth as the most likely candidate, but straightened when he saw who it was: "Carol."

"I brought you something to eat." She said, offering the cup in her hand, utensil handle sticking from the top.

"You didn't have to do that. I told Rick I was fine."

"He said. But the baby always gets an extra portion—and you don't get to be picky when you eat or if you eat at all." Carol scolded quietly.

"You're right, of course." Chastised, Marshall took the cup of beans. "Thank you, Carol."

Athena gave a quiet woof, pressed against his leg, her tail wagging shallowly, her muzzle pointed towards the truck at the back of the driveway closest to the front porch. Marshall silently patted her head in acknowledgement; looks like they weren't quite so alone. Marshall turned a questioning look to the woman, green-eyes flicking back to the truck.

In response, she simply nodded. Yes, she knew of their little freckled eavesdropper, but she didn't react to it otherwise, continuing their conversation and he went along. "It was also an excuse for us to for a moment in actual privacy." Her arms crossing over her chest, hands laid over her biceps, holding herself.

"Yeah," He gave a nervous chuckle. "I figured as much. I really do appreciate your patience and this opportunity to speak, Carol. I know I haven't exactly been giving you a very good impression since I got back."

"Oh?" She was curious to his impression of himself.

"Barring the lingerie joke..." He muttered wryly. "I haven't exactly given off a responsible adult vibe. Getting into scuffles with my sisters, inappropriate jokes and language, waffling between manic and calm. Distracted-"

"I believe that's called being happy to be with your family again, Marshall." Carol told him. "And the other stuff, of course your distracted, you're worried about Michonne and Andrea. But even between all of that, you kept checking in with Sophia."

"It's practically in parentheses after every thought in my head." Marshall admitted.

"Welcome to the thought process of every parent."

Marshall felt that, that was a step in the right direction of gaining Carol's approval. "When you meet someone new, even Before but especially Now, that First Step is really always going to be a Leap of Faith. I know I'm just the stranger that found her in the woods and 4 months later she's suddenly calling me 'papa'. I understand how that looks, it's the exact expressions I've seen on Lori's and my daddy's faces-"

"Their opinion isn't what matters here."

"They aren't." He agreed. "I genuinely care for her. I love Sophia. Your daughter is precious. She's brilliant, smart, so strong and capable. That was all so easy to see even during our first meeting. She's been through so much, yet her soul is still so vibrant. Sophia deserves so much love, the world. And maybe I can give some of that to her, given the chance. I know that you need to be able to see that for yourself though, to be able to trust it, trust me."

"Words are pretty, but I've found that it's actions that speak the loudest."

"I agree—and wanting something is different from deserving it." Just like with Sophia when she mistrusted him at first in the woods, Marshall felt gratification with Carol's own run-around responses. She was making him work for it; she loved her daughter and she wasn't just going to let him walkout with her heart without proving himself. The respect he already had for the woman rose. Marshall took a deep breath. "I made mistakes over the winter, the first being the reason why we were delayed in reaching the rest stop in time-"

"That not-!" Sophia jumped out of her hiding spot in the shadows of the red truck's front wheel, old indignity rearing its head, and- caught, she realized a beat too late, glancing between the two adults, contrite. "Um..."

"Sophia Grace Peletier." Marshall internally winced while Sophia externally winced—a middle-name drop—rightfully so at that. It was this exact behaviour that had gotten her separated from her mama in the first place. "Explain yourself." Sophia squirmed under her mother's unwavering stare, the toe of her shoe scuffed the drive, as she reverted to nervous finger-fiddling. Her eye flickered up at Marshall- "Don't look at him. You look at me."

"I-" Sophia swallowed quietly, but rose her chin to look her mother in the eye. Carol's tone was new, she'd never had reason to use it on the girl before. "I saw you come out here and-and I knew papa was out here, too. And I just wanted to know what was h-happening."

"You do not sneak off outside by yourself." Carol said.

"But-!"

"I do not care that I was out here, too. Or that Marshall was out here on watch. If I didn't notice that you snuck out after me and went back into that house, and I couldn't find you... if no one else realized where you were either, what do you think would happen?"

"E-everyone's going to panic that they can't find me?" She answered in a small voice.

"Yes, they would. Do you understand how scared I was when I couldn't find you and we couldn't find Carl when that herd came to the farm?" Sophia chin trembled with rising tears. "You're my precious baby and I couldn't find you—after I'd just gotten you back." There were silent tears brimming in Carol's own eyes. "I haven't been able to take a deep-breath for 4 months. I need you to understand that you cannot sneak off like this, Sophia. You know better than this."

"I do!" Sophia swore, a tear tracked down her cheek. "I do." She hugged her mom. "I'm sorry, mom." Sophia said quietly, but sincerely. "Please don't be mad at me. I'm sorry!"

Carol stroked her head, arm holding around her shoulders. "It doesn't matter that Marshall taught you how to use a gun and a knife, and how to kill walkers. You'd been worried if I snuck off without telling you, wouldn't you?" Sophia nodded against her shoulder before stepping back with a sniff.

"I know your curious and worried," Marshall spoke this time. "But we would have told you the truth—whatever that may be. It's so sweet when you defend my honor, and while I know that getting a fever and delaying us three days as a result wasn't my fault, and that we can't go back in time to change things, I still hold that guilt, Butterfly." And there was that selfish, guilty part of him that was grateful, because who was to say that they still would have become what they were to each other if it weren't for that fateful winter? That he wouldn't just be that Weird Guy in the Group that saved her that one time? "Your mama and I need to have a serious conversation, that means everything on the table; no secrets, no fibs."

"He's right." Carol agreed. "I will talk to Marshall. And then I will talk to you. Then, the three of us will speak together. That means, Sophia, inside. Now." She said sternly. "I'll not tell you again."

Sophia nodded, and as silent as she came, she speed walked across the lawn and onto the porch. Cracking and slipping through the front door, so brief that there was only a second of exclaims from inside before they were cut off by the closed door. Carol watched the door for a moment more before she looked back to him, her brow raised and a cross look that Marshall instantly interpreted as accusation.

"Hey," Marshall quickly held up his hands in innocence. "She didn't learn that shit from me—pretty sure she got all that from Carl." Granted, she was always attached to his hip so she had no reason to resort to these tactics in the first place.

"Yeah." Carol huffed in wry amusement. "Sneaky little bastard."

"Yeah." Marshall snorted in agreement. "I got some rope," He suggested. "We can tie her to one of us. I brought up the idea with Rick about everyone else, but he shot me down. But we could probably get away with it."

"As much as I wish that would actually work..."

"Yeah. I just made her hold onto my belt whenever we went outside."

There was a moment before she turned serious again. "I'm not just going to ban you from interacting with my daughter—I saw the affects that had on Carl when Lori tried to cut Shane off after Rick returned." Carol murmured quietly, but steel still laid beneath. She never understood how Lori could throw away a man like Rick for a man like Shane. But it wasn't her marriage, it wasn't her husband, it wasn't her son, it wasn't her unborn baby—and considering her own choices, what right did she have to judge? "This is a relationship between you and Sophia, but it's also a relationship between the three of us together, and between you and I because if I don't trust you personally, how am supposed to trust you with my daughter?"

Marshall nodded and stirred at the congealed cup of beans. "I didn't plan for this to happen. I didn't set out to gain a spirit-daughter. Any growing attachment that went beyond simply her care and returning her to her mama, I was more than ready to stay in denial of. Every time Andrea would point out that I was not, if fact, Sophia's father. Every time Michonne said that I acted like I was Sophia's father. I was willing to heave it onto the trauma-bond for both our sakes, that when we reunited with everyone I'd be relegated back to just another adult authority figure—but when she first called me 'papa'," He voice broke. "It was the most amazing and devastating moment of my life."

He looked up, green-eyes glossy with unshed tears. "We- we were coming into town, excited because we kept seeing Beth's Tags. The streets were empty—until they weren't. There was a herd, silent as death, more than a hundred, just waiting around the corner. The horses reared, they got tripped up, they went down and I had only seconds to react. I grabbed Sophia, I always had her sit in front of me when we rode, and I threw her away. I hit the ground, the piranha swarmed. I could see Michonne and Andrea fighting on one side, the piranha feasting on the horses... and I didn't know where Sophia was—until she screamed for me. PAPA. When I got to her, piranha were on her, there was b-blood-" Carol swallowed, listening in rapt attention. "I managed to get her away and all we could do was run. I had her in my arms, and her leg- and she cried into my neck, so scared. Kept calling me papa. After several close calls we managed to find safety on an apartment building roof and it was time to face the truth..."

Carol knew that her daughter was not bit. If Sophia was bit, she would not be alive and in that house with her. Yet, her heart hammered fearfully in her chest. Her baby, how terrified she must of been and Carol hadn't been able to be there for her—but Marshall was.

"She wasn't bit, thank God, her leg had just caught on something and gouge open her calf. All our supplied got left behind with the horses and all I had on me was a single suture kit. I had to- I had to stitch her leg closed without any sort of pain relief."

"Oh!" Carol swallowed the sob.

"We found shelter in an apartment inside the building and all I wanted to do was make her safe and comfortable... and she thought she had to apologize for calling me papa. It hurt that she thought that she had to do that, and before me was a fork... maybe it would have been better to agree and dismiss it, but I... couldn't. I didn't want to! So, I told her that. If she wanted me as a papa, I was more than happy to have her for a daughter. When she burst into tears," He whispered. "I thought I overstepped, that she didn't- but then she asked- she asked if I meant it, if I wanted her. And I said: who wouldn't want you? I mean, how could she even ask a question like that? Who wouldn't want this amazing girl? She said-"

"Her dad." Carol cried; her baby and it was all her fault.

"And as they say: the rest is history. I regret how she came about calling me papa, but I don't regret that it happened. I can never regret that girl. Never. No matter how this goes, I won't stop caring about her or protecting her. I can't just stop loving her, but your her mama and you have to do what you have to do to do the same."

This time it was Carol's turn to take a deep breath and turn her gaze up to the star speckled sky as they stood in companionable silence, Marshall slowly eating his cup of beans like it was wet cement.

Even before Sophia had instictively called him papa when Beth had kneed him, Carol had already noticed how she continued to stumble over the man's name when she'd been chattering with Carl, leaned against her side, a killer whale tucked under her arm. From the get-go Carol had seen how caring and genuine Marshall had treated Sophia, how quickly Sophia had become attached to the man. Sophia was not like that, not even with Carl. If Carol and Lori hadn't continuously grouped the two together, Sophia would have been too shy and anxious to interact with the bolder boy by herself. Yet, she instantly became attached to Marshall like sticker that refused to come off.

Carol had been wary, of course she had, with her own husband's behaviours, with the growing lack of morality in a world that had already been lacking in that regard... she just wanted her daughter to be safe. Happy. Marshall was right, Sophia did deserve the world.

Her gaze cut across to the 26-year-old. He held so much guilt about Sophia getting hurt when they encountered that herd, but he did the one thing that he could do in that situation—he got himself and her daughter out of there alive. "When you both finally made it back, I expected her to be attached—I just never thought she'd get attached quite like this."

"You know, most times... the greatest things in life aren't planned."

Carol thought about Sophia, and agreed. "Goodnight, Marshall."

"Sleep tight, Carol." He didn't watch her walk back up to the house.

A few hours later, the front door opened. The figured waved when he looked over, his watch relief. Athena proceeded him into the dark interior filled with sleeping bodies.

"Hey," Maggie murmured quietly, hand gripping his forearm, stopping him before he could disappear inside. "You doing okay?"

"Mm. Tomorrow needs to pan out. It just... needs to."

"Yeah." She mumbled, letting his arm slip from her hold. The door shut. She hoped it did, too.

...

Packing up in the morning was a simple affair with little fanfare and minimal drama; all they brought in from the cars the night before was themselves, sleep supplies, and food. The Banana Mopeel was all loaded up with everything baring its passengers and Marshall stood on the sidewalk at the neighbour's, watching some piranha down the street making their way steadily closer. He casually juggled a few palm-sized stones he'd found in the front flower bed, waiting for Athena to complete her number-two doggy business.

Maggie approached him, her brow raised as she looked to the walkers then back to her twin. "You just gonna stand there like a dumb-ass playing with yourself?"

"Hey. Athena watches my back when I go to the bathroom, the least I can do is return the favour." Athena woofed, back feet briefly tearing up the grass after she finished before prancing across the lawn back to his side. She was alert, poised, amber gaze fixed on the piranha.

"However did you cope all winter?" She asked sarcastically.

"I had to brave the wilds by my lonesome with my ass hanging out."

Before she could make a smartass quip in return, they were interrupted:

"Papa! Papa! Papa!" Sophia chanted, skipping over to the man, her eyes bright and freckled face flushed with excitement.

"I also spiritually adopted a kid." Marshall let the stones clatter to the ground.

There was no time for Maggie to react upon that so casually thrown out remark either as Sophia reached them. The 12-year-old-jumped, throwing herself at him. Marshall caught the airborne, gangly girl easily. Sophia perched herself there in his hold, her bent knees clenched at either of his hips, careful of his tactical belt, her hands on his shoulders.

It was easy for Maggie to see that this was an old practice between them; it remaindered her of Beth, who would always jump at Marshall with flying hugs or so he'd carry her or spin her around like their own little dance.

There had been an anticipatory tension in the air, one of many since Marshall and Sophia's return to the Group. Rick and Lori was a chocking tension that weaved into everything to the point where everyone blatantly ignored it, including the two involved. Beth's curt and outright refusal to speak and interact with daddy was a personal weight on Maggie's shoulders and conscious; she herself was upset with him for his many mistakes since the kick-off of the apocalypse, but she was also culpable because she'd just stood by and let them happen when she could have stood her ground. The stress of trying to find Michonne and Andrea, growing more desperate and more hopeless as the days went by. And the cherry; Sophia's declaration of 'papa'. It was made clear that first day back, and everyone knew it was no one's damn business by the 3 involved, so they watched from the corners of their eyes, their lips sealed shut—and could do nothing but wait for an implosion or a happy-ending.

Maggie had dearly wanted to bring it up the day before in the car, but she'd caught the look on daddy's face when Sophia had called Marshall papa and with Hershel also in the car with them, she had easily concluded it was best not to.

"Papa?" Sophia repeated.

Marshall chuckled, "Yes, Butterfly?" A smile stretching across his lips.

"Did you hear?"

"No, what?"

"Mom said I could ride with you in The Banana Mopeel!"

"Hm. Really now?" Marshall had just assumed the seating arrangements would have been the same today as it had been the other day. "You're not just trying to sneak one passed me, are you?" He teased.

Sophia gaped. "No!" Her gaze dropped, her fingernail picking at the seam on his shoulder. "I really am sorry I snuck out, papa."

"I know you are, sweetheart." Marshall turned to look over by the cars, Carol was already watching back. He raised his hand that wasn't supporting Sophia and waved; she nodded back with a silent thumbs-up and waved back in answer to the obvious question. "Well, then." Sophia looked back up at him—and he beamed. The strawberry-blond instantly reflected it. "Family Road Trip 2.0!" She giggled and Maggie smiled at them.

"Shall I take care of this myself, then?" Maggie questioned, nodding her head at the significantly closer walkers that had gone from a trio to a quartet.

Marshall looked. "Oh, you wanna show-off?" He patted Sophia's thigh, telling the girl to get down. She dropped to her feet and stood aside. "Alright, but if you think I'm just sending you out there with out back-up..." He squatted. "Athena."

Maggie snorted. "And here I thought you'd do the dirty work yourself." She pulled out the knife from her belt, easily assessable with her bomber jacket. Her sap gloved fingers flexed experimentally around the handle; it would be a nice test.

"Cute. Athena," The dog turned her attention to him. Marshall laid his hand on the back of her shoulder. "Romeo, Boomarang." Her amber eyes followed his gesture to the right. "Diversion: Lima-Echo-Golf. Victor-Yellow," Was followed by another signal.

"And what, exactly did you just tell her?" Maggie questioned.

"She's gonna take the right-side to the back, distract 'em. You're gonna come in from the left, going in for the kills. Leave the centerfield clear for me and I'll pitch in if necessary. Three-pitches, four-plates."

"God, you're so anal." Maggie shook her head.

"Just covering on the bases. It's called 'work-smarter not work-harder', thank you." Marshall corrected, "But, by all means..." He nodded his chin towards the still-approaching piranha, "Give your own pitch."

Maggie rolled her eyes. "Oh, calm down. Your plan is fine."

"Thank you."

"So passive-aggressive, Marshall."

"Sorry. Let's just do this. It's just four but you never know. I'll signal Athena first, when she's a 3rd of the way, you go. If you get into trouble, I'll give you a hand." Maggie nodded. Marshall looked back to Athena, repeated the order before taking his hand off her shoulder and signalled her go.

He picked up the three scattered stones from the ground as Athena trotted with a bend at the piranha, whose immediate attention was drawn by the closing target, standing. Maggie went forward from the left and he got into position, rolling his neck and shoulders. It'd been a while, but it was so easy to fall back into the stance that had been drilled into him since middle-school.

Athena barked lowly, keeping her noise contained as ordered—despite the fact that they would be leaving the area behind in a few minutes time didn't matter. It was better to act on the side of caution. The Belgian Malinois darted in close and back, tugging at ankles and knocking into decomposing and weak knee-joints as Maggie closed the distance.

Her first was an easy kill, but pulled the attention of the remaining close-knit piranha. Athena pounced on one's back, knocking it fully to the road, while Marshall threw his first pitch at the unoccupied piranha as Maggie struggled briefly with a her next piranha that had gotten too close too fast. Marshall struck his target, of course he didn't expect the stone to kill it, but it did as intended, knocking the upright piranha off-course. Maggie thrust her knife into her walker, and Marshall had already released his second pitch at the same designated target as before.

"Hey!" Glenn called, taking notice, drawing the others attention as he ran toward his girlfriend. "Maggie!"

Maggie didn't answer, focused on the task before her. She back-handed the stoned walker away, flesh torn away and ducked under its lunging grasp, and stabbed down into the head of Athena's charge that the dog had been keeping onto the ground with grunt. Before Glenn could reach them and before Marshall needed to throw his final pitch, she spun around with an upward stab taking care of the final piranha looming above her.

It collapsed to the ground with a thump and Glenn reached her, grabbing her arms and pulled her up. "Are you okay?" He questioned frantically, checking her over.

"I'm fine." She said, blowing the strands of hair from her face with a puff of breath.

"What the hell was that?" He questioned her. "Why the hell weren't you helping her?!" He demanded of Marshall.

Marshall cocked his head, looking up from where he was crouched, praising his partner for a job well executed. He understood the worry, but he also trusted that Maggie could get the job done, and if for whatever reason she hadn't been able to, he was there to easily step in. His twin spoke-up for them.

"I was fine. I'm fine." Maggie promised, wiping of her glove and her knife before she resheathed it. "We had a plan. We had it covered. You don't need to freak-out."

"You had it cove- He was literally just watching you!" Glenn protested.

"He was literally pitching-in, Glenn." She corrected and Marshall snickered. "Are we finally ready to leave?"

"W- Yeah. Yeah." He said, looking confused and still anxious.

Marshall slung an arm around his twin's shoulder, pressing a kiss to her temple. "My, my, this is a far cry from the pharmacy." He held his free hand out for Sophia and started to lead them back to the Group, Athena on the girl's free side.

Glenn stared after the twins, before looking down at the dead walkers. He toed a bloodied stone in befuddlement. Maggie actually meant literally, Marshall had literally been pitching stones at the walkers.

"I can't just stand behind you my whole life."

Marshall scoffed. "You only do that when people are literally flinging shit around."

"The trials and tribulations of having younger siblings." Maggie chuckled. "Being freakishly tall compared to the rest of us and unflinching in the literal face of shit, you make a pretty great shield."

Glenn caught up, taking her hand.

"I am great." Marshall agreed.

"Papa made poo-pies all winter." Sophia told Maggie.

Maggie raised a brow at him. "Why am I not so surprised by that, Sophia?"

He shrugged. "Had to keep the fires burning, and Boomer and Hopscotch were very generous with their contributions."

"And he never washed his hands afterwards!" The strawberry-blond added.

"Ew!" Maggie quickly shrugged out from under her twin's arm at the declaration as they reached the cars.

Marshall rolled his eyes. "I've touched worse things than shit, alright? And so have you." He looked down at Sophia, "And I've been petting Marshmallow behind your back this entire time!" He stuck his tongue out at the girl.

"No! Bad Papa!" Sophia pulled back to point scolding and accusing at him. "Tell me, tell me, now!"

He giggled at her continued indignity on the subject. "Nuh-uh. Now, where's my Marshmallow?" He cooed.

"Bad Papa!" She grabbed the tail of his coat to ineffectually hold him back as he zeroed in on Carl and Marshmallow out on his lead. Marshall skipped over, unhindered by the 12-year-old weight trying to drag him back, ignoring the looks of everyone else, and scooping up the nonplussed feline from the ground. "You're not allowed to pet him."

"I'm not petting him." Marshall countered childishly, holding the cat aloft so even with her arms stretched up she had no chance of reaching. "I'm claiming kitty-kisses." He smooched the furred face. Athena gave a low growl of jealousy.

"It still counts!" Sophia protested, pouting. She hopped but to no avail.

Carl watched, wide-eyed, bemused but also happy to see his best-friend so lively. She was never this loud or excitable at the quarry. Carl decided that he liked Marshall being her papa if this was the result.

Marshall lowered the cat, giving him to Sophia. He pattered her head and knocked the brim of Carl's hat with a knowing wink. "What?" He questioned like he didn't know why they were all staring at him like that. "You never seen a grown man kiss a cat before?" He turned to The Banana Mopeel, "I thought we were ready to go?"

...

(road) when I'm on the road
(road) I see stuff going by
(road) when I'm on the road-
(road)I got a bug in my eye(road)
(road) when I'm on the road-
(road)looks like clears skies ahead (road)
(road) when I'm on the road-
(road)please stop touching my head(road)
(road) let's all the sing the road song
(road) I want to sing it all day long
(road) let's all sing the road song
(road) let's all sing along(road)

Road trip songs, fun little car-games. Just your fun-time family-bonding in the apocalypse! Now, this was a bit of Family Road Trip that Marshall had been waiting on, despite the ETA to their winter oasis being a handful of hours. Marshall's Unit had been on horses after all, they travelled mostly by road-adjacent so road conditions were a bit of a mystery.

Marshmallow was road-tripping it with the Grimes' since Lori had refused Carl's puppy-blue-eyes to let him ride in the Banana Mopeel with his best-friend, so Sophia let him have the cat as his travelling buddy. Beth had been more willing to give up the front passenger seat to Carol than she had to daddy, taking the backseat behind her brother while Sophia sat behind her mama, Athena perpetually relegated to the center. Maggie and Hershel went back to the truck with Glenn and T-Dog had decided to brave the terse Grimes atmosphere to keep Carl occupied.

Marshall titled his head slightly to the side as Beth leaned forward, squeezing her head through the space between his head and the window. "Can I help you?" Her arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders.

"This is why I never got jealous," Beth murmured softly into his ear. Her gentle voice got washed away in the enclosed space by the cracked window, leaving their conversation private from the two people mere feet away. "She was never like another little sister, even then."

"You're the best baby-sis a big brother could ask for," Eyes trained on the road ahead, he turned his head and kissed her cheek. "Why would I want to replace you?"

Beth smiled and quipped, "As if you ever could."

"Don't be smug." He chuckled.

"Fact is fact, that's all. The sun rises in the East and sets in the West. Chocolate is the #1 best creation. I love you. I am the Best Baby Sister in the World. Facts."

He chuckled. "I can concur with that list—except replace 'chocolate' with 'milk' and then we can start publishing."

"Ugh." She made a face. "I bet we find chocolate before we find milk." She teased.

"Now you're just being mean."

Beth sat back with a laugh.

"Papa?" Sophia questioned. Athena was sat across her lap, her muzzle stuck out the corner of Carol's own open window. "Earlier..."

"Yes?" He prompted.

"Maggie called you a butt-hole."

Beth sputtered, completely taken aback.

"Sophia!" Carol exclaimed in her own surprise.

"What? She did!" Sophia protested.

Marshall simply burst out laughing. Athena woofed.

"Papa!" She exclaimed in embarrassment. "She called you 'anal' and anal means butt-hole."

"Ahh!" Beth realized, then started to laugh herself.

Marshall wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes with a knuckle. "While, yes, 'anal' can mean 'butt-hole', Maggie meant it in the second sense... that I'm a bit... detail-oriented."

Beth snorted. "That's one way to put it."

Sophia's expression scrunched in contemplation. "Oh!" Her face brightened in realization, a new light of understanding in her eyes as she looked at him. "Like how Andrea always calls you 'controlling'?"

"What?!" Beth gaped at the girl.

Carol's eyebrows rose.

Everything in his body seized up tight like a wire cable. His knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. His expression was fixed, his lips pursed as he took controlled breaths through his nose. There was a long beat of silence; Sophia waited for his answer, he could feel Beth's stare drilling into the back of his head, Carol's discrete side-eye. Sourness curdled in his stomach. "Heh, yeah." Marshall finally spoke, his voice coming out lower than intended. "Something like that, Sophia."

Sophia bit the inside of her cheek, watching her papa. Instinct told her that what she had said hurt his feelings and she did not like that one bit.

"God!" Beth scowled. "That bitch is a real piece of work! I know the only way she made it through winter was because of you. How many times did you save her ungrateful-life, and she has the nerve to call you controlling?"

"It doesn't matter." Marshall said. "Nobody said you had to be friends with her. There's no point in getting worked-up over such stupid, petty things." His fingers relaxed on the wheel. "We're almost there." Daryl had fallen back into second position in their convey when they finally reached town, letting The Banana Mopeel take lead through the familiar territory. Marshall frowned at the decided lack of piranha wandering the streets, with just the simple few that took to tailing after them. He sniffed, brows furrowing. "Anybody else smell that?" He wound his window down further and didn't even need to bother sticking his nose out the window as the scent laden air wafted into the car.

"Smoke?" Carol questioned. "How long ago was it that you were here?"

"A few weeks." He wasn't sure about the others' window situation but there was no doubt that Daryl was taking the full brunt of it. He kept his window down, though, not liking the fact that the scent didn't become any weaker the closer the got to the cul-de-sac.

In fact, Marshall was forced wind his window back up as the scent of smoke quickly became cloying. The reason became pretty obvious rather quickly as Marshall finally pulled to a stop at the mouth of the cul-de-sac—what had once been their safe little winter haven was now a burnt out husk.

"Marshall?" Beth asked worriedly. She and Sophia leaned forward through the middle.

"Papa?" Sophia muttered. "What-?"

"Stay in the car." Marshall said instead of trying to answer. "Everybody, just- stay in the car." He repeated, getting out and closing the door against any protests and Athena's following. The Belgian Malinois scrabbled briefly at the window barking, only sitting back in his seat with a whine at his silent hand commanded.

Daryl had pulled up alongside the Pinto with the Hyundai and truck in a line behind. Rick and T-Dog with Glenn and Maggie met up with the two in front of The Banana Mopeel.

"What the hell happened?" Maggie asked, staring.

"Nice place." Daryl said. "Can see why you left it."

"I assume it wasn't actually like this before?" Glenn said awkwardly and Maggie gave him a look.

"No." Marshall answered shortly, not looking from the scene before him. Even from down the block it was clear to see where a majority of the piranha had disappeared to. This fire, whatever had caused it to burn down the near entirety of the dead-end cul-de-sac, must have drew them in like moths to a flame. The high dancing colours, the roaring of the flames, the collapsing of the structures. Fire was a dangerous, beautiful, mesmerizing thing, after all—whether it eliciting fear or desire. Without another word, he started walking.

"Glenn and Maggie," Rick decided. "Stay with the cars, looks like things could get real active fast. The rest of us are gonna check it out on foot." Daryl and T-Dog took that as their cue to follow after the other man.

"Alright." Glenn nodded.

Maggie cast a concerned look her twin's way.

"I'll keep an eye on him, Maggie." Rick promised.

Maggie could only nod, watching as Rick caught up the short distance to the others.

"Maggie?" Beth called. "What's going on?"

"Just stay in the car, Beth." Maggie turned to her sister.

"I am in the car." Beth rolled her eyes, the window cranked down. Athena's head was shoved out the space alongside hers.

"Well, just make sure Athena doesn't try and jump out the window to go after him. He didn't want her out here for a reason."

"I know." Beth's arm was already anchored around the dog's neck. "What's going on?"

Maggie sighed. "It looks like the whole cul-de-sac burned down."

"This was the only lead we had of finding Michonne," Beth said softly with worry.

"I know." They both looked down the street, worried about their brother.

"You just gonna wander into their open arms?" Daryl tsked at the wandering man, crossbow up. He pulled the release, the closest walker that Marshall gave no reaction to fell to the ground in a small cloud. When he retrieved his bolt, the skull was crumbled around it.

"Oh, that's nasty!" T-Dog cringed. "They're still walking around, even like that?" He caved another's skull in.

"You'd be surprised about the trauma a human body can go through and still 'function'." Rick said. Looking around, it reminded him of the outside of the CDC, the walkers melted to road.

"And unlike living humans," Marshall spoke softly. "They don't feel the pain, they don't go into shock, the neurons just keep... firing. Like headless chickens."

"Which one did you stay in?" Rick questioned.

"The end, with the fire hydrant."

Rick stayed closer to him, while Daryl and T-Dog spread out, killing the walkers that were 'waking-up' at their arrival. Their burnt skin flaking away, already brittle bone cracked and crumbled under the heat of the flames. It was almost like swatting at cardboard cutouts.

There was a mild ringing in Marshall's ears as he stopped at a mailbox posted at the end of one of the yards, still standing, if soot-covered. It was the shape of a doghouse. Beyond that, was a piranha in the driveway, burnt black, its eyes melted out, charred teeth still gently clicking away. Burnt and crispy corpses was not a new experience to him. Hell, not even walking burnt-up corpses-to-be, but the thought of Michonne like that just turned his stomach and once the thought was in in his head- he retched next to the mailbox.

He straightened and popped in a piece of gum, speaking as if nothing out of turn had just occurred, "They were never here. It's been at least 2 days since the fire went out and we've been the only ones here since."

"How can you know that?" T-Dog asked.

"The ground's covered in ash and soot," Rick nodded his chin to the ground. "It was untouched before we came."

"Why th' fuck would anyone come down 'ere for anyway?" Daryl added, before he paused then nodded at Marshall: "'Sides him?"

"See your point." T-Dog conceded. "So, any clue as to what went down?"

"Not a fucking clue." Marshall said and Daryl snorted.

"What exactly was the point in us coming down here, then—beside giving us fucked-up memories of burnt walkers?"

"Had to be sure." Marshall murmured, turning around to head back. "Before we threw in the final towel and moved on."

"Hold up!" T-Dog grabbed his arm when he walked by. "Give-up? We've barely been looking for two days!"

"They're not dead," Rick spoke. "But we can't just check every nook and cranny. We need to find a place, set roots. Lori can't keep travelling like this and my baby is not being born on the road."

"They're not dead. They're just missing. Just have to have a little faith we'll find each other again, whether that's in 4 days, 4 months, 4 years... Michonne know how to survive by herself."

"And Andrea?" T-Dog demanded.

Marshall didn't know how to answer.

[...tbc...]

Omake:

Marshall: Maggie will cut off my ball and feed it to me before killing me if you die—so don't die.
Glenn: Uh. *gulps* Well, when you put it like that, I definitely won't.

...The walking DEAD...

---

Virginia to Vegas - Time
Fort Minor - Where'd You Go
SpongeBob SquarePants - The Road Song [S.8/Ep.7: A SquarePants Family Vacation]
...

Alright, so... I didn't get to where I wanted to with the chapter, so... the next chapter will be the intervening months BEFORE they find The Prison, then-THE PRISON. Promise! *steady-eye-contact, gulp, steady-eye-contact* and now we can finally get into the REAL beginning of Season 3 - The Prison, baby!

I was stuck for sooo long on the one-on-one scene between Rick and Marshall in the Hyundai, so I hope you enjoyed it because it was an absolute bitch to write.

P.S: You probably don't care, but, OMFG! I have fell utterly in love with Rick's nickname for Marshall, which was a complete accident. I think I had Maggie & Beth call him 'Mar' and 'Marsh' a couple times, those were literally the only abbreviations I could come up with for his name. And fucking 'Marsha', kill me now. But 'Mars' OMG I literally was in the middle of typing his name and got distracted and there it was. Why is this the cutest fucking thing in the world to me right now?