Author's note: Sorry it's been so long. This story has been on my mind a lot, but the holidays had me in a funk that made it difficult to focus on the actual writing. There was also a spot that I was stuck on and kept re-writing because I felt like I couldn't get the right translation from brain to page. Now that we're in the new year, my focus is much better. Anyway, this is another long chapter haha. Guess I can't help myself. It's also very Sirius-centric. Parts of the story will be like that, having chapters that focus a lot more on one of our POV characters than the others. Uhh...that's it for now.

Much like the car ride back from the Target run, everyone in Harry and Sirius' vehicle was quiet, though for different reasons this time. The two of them were riding with Michonne and Glenn, keeping to their same vehicle groups as they had on the way to the Big Spot. While the others were probably just tired, Harry was lost in thought.

He was completely unnerved and disgusted with himself. He couldn't believe he had frozen like that when Zach was in danger, almost letting him get killed. He didn't understand why it had happened. After all, he'd faced more perilous threats before. Why should this situation have been any different?

Once the group had gotten out of what was left of the Big Spot, they'd been able to see that a helicopter was what had sunk in the ceiling, and they realized it must have been on the roof where they hadn't been able to see it. They had all taken a moment to catch their breath and collect themselves before checking that no one was hurt or bitten and separating for the trip home. Zach had cast Harry a tight but grateful smile before getting in a car with Sasha, Tyreese, and Bob. Harry couldn't bring himself to return it. Zach should have been furious with him, inquiring as to why Harry had dawdled so long before saving him. What the hell did he owe Harry any appreciation for?

They all returned to the prison and went about gathering and organizing the supplies they had managed to bring back. Harry and Sirius were walking back together from where they unloaded their items, and Harry watched Zach run up to Beth and plant a deep kiss on her lips. Beth looked surprised by the greeting, but seemed to enjoy it.

As Harry got closer, he heard Zach say, "And I'd have been literal dead meat if Harry hadn't helped me." Zach turned upon seeing Harry approach and grinned broadly before coming up to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Seriously, man…I can't thank you enough."

Harry swallowed a lump of shame, wanting to shake Zach and tell him he should be yelling at him, not thanking him. He looked away, catching sight of Beth, who was watching him with a carefully blank expression. He looked away from her as well. He needed to get away from both of them.

"It's nothing," Harry mumbled. "I'll, er, I'll see you later."

He continued off to his cell, Sirius silently accompanying him. Once they were alone, Sirius touched a hand lightly to his back and quietly said, "Here, come sit down."

Harry nodded and sat on the edge of his bed, Sirius sitting next to him. Sirius took a moment before asking, "What happened back there?"

Harry struggled to reply. While part of him was desperate to blurt out what was bothering him to alleviate his conscience, there was another part of him that wanted nothing more than to hide it forever and let Sirius continue to falsely believe Harry was all the good things he thought he was.

Eventually, he found himself forcing the words from his throat. "Sirius, I…I froze. After Bob got free, a Walker pulled Zach to the floor and he couldn't get away. I noticed as soon as it happened, but…I…I couldn't get myself to do anything." Harry chanced removing his gaze from the floor to gauge how Sirius was responding. His godfather was watching him with his brow slightly furrowed in concern, but his eyes were soft. Remembering how Sirius had told him that all he ever wanted to do was help him, Harry took a breath and resumed looking at the floor as he spoke. "I…I kept seeing…Cedric…when I looked at Zach. I kept thinking it was Cedric, lying there dead, instead of Zach, stuck. Everything just felt so…weird. I kept thinking Zach was going to die and that I couldn't stop it, even though I knew I could if I just lifted my sodding wand. But it was like I couldn't get myself to take action." He looked at Sirius again, whose expression was inscrutable. He knew he needed to at least look his godfather in the eye when he told him the disappointing and unsettling truth. "Sirius…I'm a coward."

Sirius' eyes widened as if someone had just thrown a terrible insult at him. Then, he completely took Harry aback by, very lightly, smacking the back of his head and fixing him with a stern gaze. "Harry James Potter, don't you dare ever believe that about yourself for even a moment."

"But I—"

"No, kid, listen to me, and listen closely. You are probably the least cowardly person I've ever met. Do you hear me? You're just as brave as your mother and father, maybe even more. You've faced situations that would, quite frankly, make a Viking warrior shit his pants and run away sobbing, and you've faced with them with the grit and strength that people twice your age could only dream to have."

"I almost let Zach die!" Harry argued, trying to make Sirius understand. "I lost my nerve over a stupid hallucination and someone was almost killed for it!"

Sirius shook his head. "You pulled yourself out of your fear and you did save him!"

"But what if I hadn't? I almost didn't."

Sirius turned his gaze to the wall across from him and absently stroked his chin as he seemed to be choosing his words. "Harry…do you understand what was going on with you?"

Harry shook his head with frustration. "No. I feel like a right prat. When we were going through the Department of Mysteries and my friends were getting attacked, I was scared for them, but I still kept trying to protect them. If anything, I felt more focused because of that fear. I didn't suddenly start thinking about when Cedric died and just stand there like an idiot."

Sirius nodded, still staring thoughtfully ahead of him. "So…sometimes, when we witness or experience hard things, those things…stay with us, even if we think we've moved past them. Our brains store the memories of those experiences and remind us of them when it perceives new situations as being similar to the past ones. Even though it can seem counteractive, it's our brain's way of trying to protect us. It sends chemical signals through our bodies that we're in danger of experiencing the same thing again. It's something that can happen to anyone, no matter how courageous or strong-willed you are. Think about when you encounter Dementors and how they affect you. While the Dementors are forcing you into a state of fear to make you vulnerable and prey on you, your brain is doing the same thing to get your attention and alert you. You weren't 'hallucinating' Cedric's death; your brain was shoving the memory of it in your face because it thought you were in a similar situation."

Harry mulled this over, thinking about how certain he'd felt for a moment that Zach was doomed and that he, Harry, was powerless. He had felt such powerlessness when Cedric was killed, when he hadn't known they were necessarily in danger and had had no idea what kind of threat to expect, if any. With Zach, was Harry's brain trying to remind him of that feeling to let him know that he wanted to avoid that powerlessness again, and that this time he could? He wasn't entirely sure he understood.

"But why did it specifically happen when Zach was in danger, and not when any of my friends who I've known for years were in danger at the Ministry? If my brain's trying to 'protect' me from repeating an experience, why did it just happen today and never before?"

Sirius looked back at Harry, seeming somber. "Does Zach perhaps remind you of Cedric?"

Harry considered this. "They're somewhat similar looking. Zach's a bit more humorous, but he's got a sort of…sense of honor, I guess, that Cedric also had. And…" Harry stopped himself as his thoughts led him somewhere else, embarrassed to share them out loud.

"Harry, after the mess I've made of my own life, I have absolutely nothing to judge you for," Sirius said lightly. "You can tell me anything."

"Okay, well…" Harry still had to avert his eyes, getting annoyed as his cheeks warmed. "There was this girl at school, Cho, who I fancied the last couple years. I asked her to that Yule Ball we had for the Triwizard Tournament, but she said she was already going with someone. Cedric." He glanced at Sirius, whose mouth opened with dawning realization. "They were boyfriend and girlfriend after the ball, and it was hard not to be jealous of Cedric. He had looks, he was popular, he was older, bigger, stronger…After he died, I still fancied Cho, who also seemed to fancy me. Part of me felt bad for it because she had been Cedric's boyfriend when he died. We ended up having a nightmare of a date a few months ago because she tried to ask me about when Cedric died, and I didn't want to talk about it. We didn't really work out after that. Anyway…I've been…fancying Beth lately." Harry felt himself blushing, but Sirius didn't laugh or smirk or show any type of judgement. He appeared quite unsurprised, and also somewhat sad. "I guess I see Zach as being better than me the same way I did Cedric, and I've been feeling like an idiot for having a crush on another girl who's already with another bloke. Then, when I thought Zach was going to die, I think…" Harry connected more of the dots the more he spoke, as Sirius seemed to as well.

"You thought the mate who was with the girl you fancied was going to die in front of you and that you would be left with complicated and confusing thoughts about both of them afterward," Sirius supplied, then adding, "Again."

Harry breathed out a humorless laugh. "Yeah. Something like that."

Sirius nodded. "That's a rough predicament, Harry. I'm sorry for how that transpired with you, Cedric, and Cho." Harry looked down and picked at a loose thread at the bottom of his shirt, frustrated as all the stress involving his relationship with Cho came flooding back to the surface. Sirius gently pulled Harry's chin up and toward him to make Harry face him. "You saved him this time, Harry. Even if you hadn't, I would never have faulted you or thought you to be a coward for it. Your response was very human."

"Then I don't want to be human," Harry replied through gritted teeth. He yanked the thread so that it detached from his shirt and tossed it toward the floor.

"Shit, I don't either, mate," Sirius sighed. "But you have to accept that you are human. No matter what Dumbledore, or Voldemort, or some prophecy might tell you, you are human, and you will have weak moments. That doesn't make you a weak person."

Harry didn't like hearing it, but he did suppose it made sense. After all, he had never let fear stop him before from risking his own life to save others. He knew that, if it was up to him, he would always make the choice to do that. Sirius seemed to be suggesting that episodes like the one with Zach weren't under Harry's control. The thought somehow made him feel simultaneously better and worse. He dreaded the idea that something like that could happen again with there being nothing he could do to stop it, but he was somewhat reassured to know that that happening wasn't his fault. He brought a hand up to his forehead and massaged his temples before nodding.

"Okay, okay, I reckon you're right," Harry conceded. "I need to quit moping and get a grip already."

Sirius chuckled and clapped him on the back. "Harry, I think if anyone's earned the right to a bit of moping, it's you."

The tennis ball bounced off the wall and back to him, his hand coming up to catch it automatically before tossing it again. If he hadn't been so lost in thought, Carl would have cared that his ass was getting sore sitting on the hard concrete floor of his cell, but he remained where he sat against the side of his bed. He couldn't stop thinking about what he'd overheard from Carol and was struggling to decide how to handle it.

A part of him had an urgent desire to hop to his feet and find his dad to fill him in immediately, but another part of him thought doing so might do more harm than good. While he didn't like that Carol was teaching kids how to use weapons without their parents' approval, he was more perturbed by her instructions on how to handle wizards. The only conclusion Carl could come to was that Carol still didn't trust Harry or Sirius, which was her prerogative, but if she was brainwashing kids into believing the two wizards might attack them, she could get them killed.

He reminded himself, though, that the adults at the prison took the security of their weapons quite seriously, always ensuring they were inaccessible to the children of the community. Carl had only been able to snag a gun when he'd confronted Harry because he was older and cleverer than the other kids and he knew how to be sneaky. The likelihood that any of them could acquire a weapon without permission was incredibly slim. The thought eased Carl's mind enough that he didn't think he needed to raise any alarms just yet, deciding to take more time to think on it.

With a frustrated sigh, Carl tossed the ball against the wall with a little more oomph than he had been, his fingers still closing around the ball deftly as it returned his way.

"You'd make a good Seeker."

Carl glanced sideways to his cell's entrance to see Harry standing there, hands in his pockets, looking tired but smiling. Carl continued tossing the ball, the term "Seeker" striking him with a sense of familiarity. He had to wrack his brain for a minute to remember what Harry had explained it being before it returned to his memory.

"That's your Quidditch position, right?" he asked. Harry nodded and stepped into the cell. Now that he was closer, Carl could see that Harry's clothes were specked with dirt, dust, and blood. He knew no one had to have been killed or seriously injured. Harry would have led with that and not been so relaxed. So it had to be Walker blood then. "You really think so?"

Harry shrugged. "That ball's about the same size as a Snitch, if only slightly bigger. You've got the reflexes for it. Yeah, why not?"

Carl appreciated the remark, wondering what it would be like to play Quidditch…to fly and sift through the sky on the hunt for an evasive magical object, to snatch it in a way so spectacular that the crowd couldn't help but gasp before roaring in cheers and applause. His team would embrace him with pride and gratitude for securing the victory for them. Younger students would look up to him and older students would respect him. Carl couldn't help the smile creeping onto his face as he pictured it, only for it to falter as he realized he would never get to have such an experience. Not even specifically the experience of playing Quidditch, but to excel at any sport and be revered for it. He had played soccer before the Walkers, but that was still only in elementary school. No one besides parents cared about sports successes until high school. And now, no one could afford to care about sports at all.

The disappointment at the realization was fleeting, as it was just another thing to add to the list of experiences Carl would never get to have. He was growing used to this by now and didn't bother to dwell on it.

He looked back up at Harry. "Did you happen to see Patrick anywhere?"

Harry shook his head. "I've only been in our cell block since getting back. Why?"

"He ran off earlier 'cause he had to barf," Carl replied. "Was just wondering if he was feeling better."

The reminder of where Patrick had been when this happened brought Carol's lesson to the forefront of his mind again. Carl clenched his teeth.

Sleep on it, remember?

"You all right?" Harry asked, sitting down next to Carl on the floor with a tired groan. "You look worried."

Yeah, I'm worried you and your godfather might get killed by some idiot kids next time you do harmless magic in front of them.

Carl cleared his throat and forced a nonchalant expression on his face. "Nah, just tired. So…did you and Zach duke it out to see who gets Beth?"

Harry snorted. "Don't be stupid."

"Sorry," Carl laughed. "Couldn't resist."

There was a light knock at Carl's cell door. Now Sirius was standing there, offering a tired smile much like Harry had. "Have you boys seen Michonne?"

Harry shook his head and said, "Not since we first got back."

Carl arched a brow. "Why?" He sat up straighter as he was hit with a wave of concern. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah, of course, nothing like that," Sirius said, waving a hand dismissively. "Just wanted to talk to her is all."

"Talk to her about what?" asked Harry in what Carl could tell was a somewhat pointed way, as if trying to communicate with his godfather telepathically.

Sirius raised his brows at Harry and tilted his head down, the corner of his lip lifting slightly. "Never you mind. I'll see you two later."

Sirius left and Harry sighed, shaking his head.

Confused, Carl said, "Ohhhkaaaay…what's that about?"

"Pretty sure Sirius fancies her," Harry groaned, though there was an air of affection hidden in his exasperated tone.

"Oh…" Carl didn't really know what else to say, or to think in the first place. Michonne wasn't his mother, nor was she, as far as Carl knew, in any kind of relationship with anyone at the prison. It was difficult to picture her having any romantic interests when she was still so independent. Despite how much she'd opened up and formed friendships among the community the last few months, she still remained closed off to a certain extent. Plus, she'd been so laser focused on finding the Governor. Either way, Carl supposed Michonne's love life, or lack thereof, wasn't any business of his. He just wanted her to be happy. "Well…is he, like…a player or something? I mean he won't be an asshole to her or anything, right?"

"Er…" Harry rubbed at the back of his head. "Actually, I've never seen Sirius in any kind of relationship. He's been on the run or locked up since I've known him. And he's never talked to me about anyone he dated before prison."

This didn't exactly lend any confidences to Carl, and it must have shown on his face because Harry hastily continued, "He's a good guy, though, I promise."

"I know he's good in general. He just better be a good guy to Michonne." Carl threw the ball at the wall again as he suddenly found himself feeling protective.

"I'm not sure if she's even interested in him, really," Harry said unconvincingly.

Carl stayed quiet, not sure why he was feeling agitated. He liked Sirius. Sirius was fun and, honestly, cool. A couple of weeks ago, he had helped Carl, Harry, and Zach pull a prank on Daryl and Glenn that involved Harry magically moving boxes just out of reach when Daryl and Glenn went to pick them up. Carl and Zach had made origami birds out of paper that they snuck into the boxes at the last minute, before Daryl or Glenn could see them in there. While Daryl and Glenn carried the boxes, Sirius had transfigured the paper birds into real birds that burst from the boxes and scared Daryl and Glenn enough to make them both yell, drop the boxes, and stumble backwards, Glenn fell to the ground and Daryl kept ducking and waving his hands in front of his face. The four boys and Sirius had doubled over in hysterical laughter from their hiding spot while Daryl and Glenn swore up a storm. Carl couldn't remember ever laughing so hard.

Sirius had also shown himself to be compassionate. Carl had recently spotted him consoling a tearful Mika after cutting her foot on a piece of glass when she'd been running around outside without shoes. Sirius had rushed over to her and gently coaxed her into a sitting position on the ground. Carl could hear him murmuring reassurances that she was okay as he carefully held her foot off the ground with one hand and pointed his wand at it with the other hand. He magically stopped the bleeding and healed the cut so that only a thin, solid red line remained, and then he'd summoned her socks and shoes for her to put on before she stood again, offering her a kind grin before saying, "See? All better. Just keep your shoes on, yeah?" Mika had giggled a "thank you" and then run off to keep playing.

Yet, Carl still couldn't help feeling annoyed at the idea of Sirius pursuing Michonne. He knew there was no logic behind it. Michonne wasn't someone who needed protecting. She was a protector herself.

She wasn't his mother. Sirius wasn't his father. Why was Carl so irked?

Sirius wasn't his father.

Then it dawned on Carl. Michonne wasn't his mother—his real mother was dead, but Michonne was probably the closest thing Carl had to a mother anymore, even if that was something he knew deep down but wasn't ready to admit to himself yet out of a sense of guilt toward his real mother. So if he thought of Michonne, even subconsciously, as a mother figure, it would only make sense that he would want her to be with his father, if she was going to be with anyone.

Carl took a moment to let this idea sink in. His dad and Michonne were friends, but no more than Michonne was friends with Daryl, Maggie, Glenn, Sasha, or anyone else. Carl had never seen any sort of evidence that his dad could be interested in Michonne in a nonplatonic way, so it was foolish to have any kind of hope for something to happen between them, especially since he knew his dad was still working through his grief over Carl's mom. He thought of movies from childhood where the plots revolved around kids trying to set one of their parents up with a particular person, and he shook his head at himself. The whole idea of hoping his dad would be with Michonne was not only unrealistic and stupid, but downright childish.

Guess you're not as grownup as you thought.

Daryl flopped backward onto his bed, one arm coming up over his head so that the back of his wrist rested over his eyes. He had no intention of staying in his cell for long, but he needed a few minutes to himself to get his shit together.

He was frustrated with how the Big Spot run went. They knowingly had wizards with them this time and things still went dangerously wrong. It wasn't due to any lacking on Sirius or Harry's part. They couldn't fly (he was pretty sure, at least), so they had the same lack of a view of the top of the building as the rest of them. No one had been able to see on top of the roof, and it wasn't something Daryl had thought to check somehow. He supposed they could have climbed up somewhere more accessible first to scope it out from a distance. It hadn't occurred to him because it hadn't seemed necessary, and now he was kicking himself for it. Any of them could have been killed today. In fact, Daryl was certain that if Sirius and Harry hadn't been with them, they probably would have returned with casualties.

No one did die, though, Daryl reminded himself. No one was bitten. No one was hurt beyond basic scrapes or bruises. Daryl didn't have to give anyone bad news upon returning. He didn't have to experience the pain of yet another loss, only to have to shove the devastation down to stay stable for those around him. He didn't have to lie awake all night because he was too scared to have nightmares reliving someone getting torn apart by Walkers. Daryl wouldn't let himself off the hook for how things went down today, but he also knew to be grateful for how well things turned out in spite of the roof fiasco. He could only learn from the situation.

He held onto this thought as he let the stress and adrenaline fade, keeping his eyes closed under his arm. After taking his ten minutes, Daryl got back up and went to see who needed help with what. He saw Rick sitting down and sorting through the electronics Zach had collected, organizing them in a toolbox that had sectioned compartments. Daryl scanned what else from the run needed sorting and saw that the kitchen supplies was unattended. He knew Carol had been hoping for a vegetable shredder and some more utensils, so he sat down and set to work.

He was putting forks, knives, and spoons in separate piles to count how many of each had been acquired when he realized how quiet Rick was. Not that Daryl minded. He often preferred silence and never felt any obligation for conversation when with Rick, but there was something about his friend's current silence that was setting off alarm bells in Daryl's gut. He stole a couple of quick glances to try to gauge Rick's body language. To the average person, Rick simply appeared focused on his task, but Daryl knew him enough by now to tell that Rick's focus was anywhere but on the gadgets before him. His sorting was almost automated, like a machine. His eyes, however, were distant in a way that meant something was troubling him. He was also noticeably dirty, which in itself wasn't unusual when he was working out in the fields, but he normally didn't have this much dirt on him. Daryl's eyes scanned the rest of his friend's body, stopping when he saw what was definitely a speck of blood on his shirt.

The Walkers that had been near the fences this morning had been killed by Michonne, Sirius, and Harry, so there shouldn't have been any for Rick to have to go out and kill. So where was the blood from then? He rationalized that Rick could have simply nicked himself while working and that the blood was his from a small cut, but Daryl's gut never lied, and right now it was telling him something was off.

Daryl stopped what he was doing, tapping the spoon he had picked up against the back of his free hand, hesitating as he tried to decide on an approach. He cleared his throat.

"Why you so dirty?" he asked, mentally sighing at his own lack of finesse.

Rick looked at him blankly, and Daryl wasn't sure if he had heard him or not, or if he was just taken aback and needing a moment for his brain to catch up. "Why am I…oh…" Rick looked down at his shirt, pinching a portion of it in each hand and pulling it out as if trying to examine it. "I, ah…went out to the woods today, to check the snares."

Daryl leaned back, holding eye contact but trying not to let the sternness he was feeling show. Rick hadn't been taking his gun with him when he went beyond the gates, which was something the council had discussed as a problem and which Hershel was supposed to have talked to Rick about today. If something happened to him because he didn't have his gun…

"Found a woman," Rick continued. "She…wasn't all there, but seemed harmless. Told me she had a husband and it was just the two of 'em. I gave her a bit of food and offered the possibility of letting them come here. She led me to where her husband was and…" Rick licked his lips. "I didn't see anyone, but there were blankets on the ground, kind of bundled. She…she went over to them, and then turned and charged me with a knife. She was easy to dodge." Rick held his hand up at Daryl in a stop signal as Daryl exhaled audibly through his nose. "Then she…she killed herself…said she wanted to be with her husband, not to kill her after she turned so they could be Walkers together." Rick set his hands on the table and shook his head. "As she was dying, she asked me what my three questions were, so I gave 'em to her. Other than trying to kill me, she was pretty innocent. But she said…said we don't get to come back."

Daryl crossed his arms. "Come back from where?"

"Back from the things we've done to survive. Come back as people."

Daryl scoffed and looked off to the side a moment before looking back at Rick. It wasn't like him to be so easily perturbed. "Why you taking her seriously? She sounds nuts."

"Because I…" Rick laughed mirthlessly as he looked away for a moment, but when his eyes returned to Daryl's, they were vibrant with a sort of self-loathing, both sad and angry, that was foreign to Daryl's experiences with him. "I could have been her, Daryl. After Lori…I almost was her."

Daryl immediately shook his head, determined to shut this line of thinking down. "Nah, man, you weren't. You came back."

"Only because I had support, and children. And even then…" Rick looked up at Daryl with a sort of guilty caution, as if he was steeling himself to speak his next thought out loud. "Even then, I still wasn't 'there' enough to make sure Judith got her formula. You did that. She would've died without you."

Daryl rolled his eyes and looked away, irritated that his friend thought such a thing but also surprised that he was still feeling guilty about this months later. Rick had thanked Daryl shortly after he'd retrieved Judith's formula, and Daryl had simply told him, "It's what we do." Daryl had thought his response clearly expressed that it was okay, how things went down after Judith's birth.

"Man…" Daryl said, trying to find the right words to ensure Rick didn't walk away from this conversation still carrying this shame. "You were grieving, Rick. You couldn't focus on your new baby because she was born at the expense of your wife. That was a lot to process at once. That ain't on you."

Rick looked back down at the table, nodding slowly. He licked his lips before returning his gaze to Daryl's and speaking again. "If I'm ever gone—"

"Stop," Daryl growled.

"—whether it's because I've gone crazy like the woman in the woods or because I'm dead, I need you to promise me you'll look after Carl and Judith."

Daryl released a frustrated sigh and leaned forward, staring pointedly at Rick until Rick looked up and met his gaze. He bore his eyes into his friend's, wanting to make sure he was being heard. "Of course I would. Should go without saying that I would. But I'm not gonna hafta 'cause you ain't going anywhere…so stop talking like a jackass."

Rick merely continued looking at him, his eyes softening in what could only be relief before saying, "I know you would. And I'm not planning on going anywhere. But I needed the verbal confirmation."

Daryl narrowed his eyes at him. "Why?"

Rick returned to his original task of organizing the electronics, not looking at Daryl. "Because after I wake up from the dreams I know I'm gonna have about that woman tonight, I need to be able to hear a real voice in my head telling me my kids will be cared for no matter what happens to me."

Rick continued sorting through items, still not looking at Daryl, who didn't know what else to say.

The conversation with Harry had left Sirius feeling somewhat heavy hearted. He knew the pain of what Harry had experienced when Zach was in trouble today, and he hated that now, Harry knew it too.

He vivdly remembered when, at least a year ago now, Molly had confronted the Boggart in Grimmauld Place and had allowed it to turn into Harry's dead body. Sirius had spotted it from the doorway after rushing upstairs with Remus and Mad-Eye to see what was going on, and his whole world had stopped. His stomach had leapt somewhere up into his throat and his legs had suddenly become heavy and unsteady beneath him. Several things had rapidly run through his mind in quick succession: Harry was dead. No, Harry couldn't be dead because he was standing right by him. James was dead. He was seeing James' dead body again, his once fierce, lively eyes now empty, his usually energetic, animated limbs now stiff and still to never move again, his messy hair still messy but to no longer to be ruffled out of nervousness or feigned nonchalance.

A ringing had muffled Sirius' ears, and part of him wanted to desperately reach out and grab Harry, who was standing there alive, and feel the warmth and pulse that came from his arm, but part of him was terrified that if he touched Harry, he would be cold and motionless and dead after all, that Sirius was only hallucinating his presence there while the copy of Harry by Molly on the floor turned out to be the real version. And then he'd become confused again as part of his brain had told him that it wasn't Harry on the floor, but James, who was already dead and had been dead for years. But Molly wouldn't imagine a dead James when facing a Boggart; she would imagine a dead Harry, so it was Harry on the floor, but Harry wasn't really dead. James was really dead, which hit Sirius with both intense relief and grief even though he'd known better than anyone just how dead James was the last fourteen years.

Remus had been stable enough to take charge of the situation and had quickly banished the Boggart while Sirius had stood there, unable to lift his wand, unable to reach out for Harry, unable to speak because his mouth was so dry and his tongue was glued to the roof of it. Even after the carpet was empty, Sirius couldn't stop staring at it, images of both James and Harry dead swirling together in his mind in a confusing blur of grief, fear, truth, and trickery. James being dead was a fear of his that had come true, and now Harry being dead was Sirius' biggest fear, and oh, god, Sirius just wanted both of them to be alive.

Now, back at the prison, in a world where Voldemort didn't exist but flesh-eating monsters did, Sirius needed a distraction more than anything. He took solace in the knowledge that he did seem to manage to genuinely ease Harry's mind and remove some of the ever-piling weight on his shoulders, but he knew the episode with Zach wouldn't be Harry's last. If and when Harry froze like that again and someone did die, Sirius knew all the reassurances that his godson was human and still brave would mean nothing to a boy—no, a young man—whose self-worth was founded first and foremost on his abilities as a savior. It was something Sirius dreaded but accepted he would need to be ready for when the time came.

For now, though, Sirius allowed his mind to wander elsewhere. After all, tomorrow had never been promised back in the Wizarding World, and it wasn't promised here either. Sometimes, one just needed to live for the day.

So instead, Sirius thought of Michonne…her sense of humor, her sharp awareness of her surroundings, her loyalty to her friends, her fearlessness…her vibrant eyes, her confident grin, the fluidity of her arms as she sliced through enemies with an elegant sort of violence. He thought about how she made him feel like he was under a microscope but that it was okay because it was she who was scrutinizing him. He thought about all the things he saw behind her eyes, like a playful sense of mischief and a haunted sense of duty, that he wanted to pull within his reach.

At the store today, she had asked Sirius what he thought of her right before everything went to shit and they'd had to take care of business, so Sirius hadn't gotten to answer. Why not do so now?

He started wandering around the main cell block in search of her. When he passed Carl's cell and saw him in there with Harry, he asked the two boys if either of them had seen Michonne. They hadn't, and Harry had given him a knowing look that he took to mean, "Don't do anything stupid."

After leaving Carl's cell, Sirius heard the unmistakable sound of Judith crying and headed in that direction almost on instinct. As he got closer to the cell the crying was coming from, he heard Beth and Michonne's voices arguing. It sounded like Beth was asking Michonne to take Judith and Michonne was refusing, but then Beth emerged from the cell by herself. Her gait was rushed as she moved toward Sirius, and he realized she had vomit on her shirt. She grimaced at him as she passed and Sirius offered a sympathetic wince in return.

When Sirius approached the open cell, he saw Michonne sitting on the floor, holding a wailing Judith in her hands at arms' length as if she was contagious with something. Michonne's head was turned sideways away from her, and away from the cell door where Sirius stood, as if not looking at Judith would somehow make her stop crying. The corner of Sirius' lip twitched in amusement. He opened his mouth to crack a joke about Michonne being terrible with babies, but then he heard sniffling noises, sniffling that was not coming from Judith.

Michonne, still unaware of Sirius' presence nearby, turned her head back to face Judith, and Sirius was surprised to see it streaked with tears of her own. She pulled the baby close to her, cradling Judith to her chest as if she was the most precious thing in the world instead of the nuisance Michonne had seemed to be treating her as a mere moment ago. She pressed her cheek to the top of Judith's head and, eyes squeezed shut, sobbed.

Sirius stood there like a moron, mouth still hanging open in bewilderment and sorrow as both woman and baby cried. Panicking, he hastily tried to figure out what to do. Should he leave? Give Michonne space and pretend he hadn't seen anything? Should he approach her? Should he say something? What should he say?

The decision was made for him, though, when Michonne opened her eyes and they landed on Sirius. She immediately brought one hand to her face and swiped at each eye with her knuckles before standing up and moving his way.

"I—" Sirius started, about to apologize and then probably babble out something useless. But Michonne simply said, "Here," and held Judith out for him to take, pushing the baby toward him until he reflexively took hold of Judith beneath her little arms. Then Michonne hurried out of the cell.

Sirius wanted to go after her and make sure she was okay, but he wasn't about to do that when he had just been unexpectedly assigned responsibility for the one and only baby in the community. Instead, he adjusted Judith in his arms to cradle her more comfortably and began to gently bounce her a little, offering soft, drawn out shushes to her. He slowly paced all the way into the cell before sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Sirius hadn't held a baby since Harry had been one, and he suddenly remembered how much he loved it. He gazed down at the scrunched up face bundled in his arms and couldn't help the undoubtedly goofy grin he could feel emerging. He had never interacted with Judith up close. She was usually with Rick, Carl, Carol, or Beth, and Sirius was usually keeping busy with work or spending time with Harry. He saw her during meals or evenings when everyone was settling down, but again, someone else was usually holding her, and he had never made a point to approach her or ask to hold her himself. Now—as he softly sung a tune that he didn't even realize he still remembered and watched Judith's cries fade into curious gurgles, her big, bright eyes looking up at him in the type of wonder only a baby could express—he wasn't sure why he hadn't.

After being named godfather to Harry, which had been an incredible honor to Sirius, he had made a conscious effort to pay more attention to things regarding his care. He watched how James rocked him to sleep, how Lily got him to take bites of his food by entertaining him. He asked questions about how to tell if Harry was sick or just fussy, at what age to expect him to hit milestones like walking and potty training, and even how to tell healthy bowel movements from ones that required a trip to a Healer. He made sure to learn how to change diapers and practiced doing so. He learned what foods Harry could have at what ages. It was even to a point where Lily eventually said, "Blimey, Sirius, we aren't dead yet," with a playful roll of her eyes before smiling at him fondly.

And Sirius enjoyed spending time with Harry as a baby. There had been times he'd come to the Potter house after being away on a dangerous, draining Order mission for days at a time only to bypass pleasantries with James and Lily and pluck baby Harry from whoever was holding him, clutching the kid close and reveling in the fact that this innocent little child with a whole bright future ahead of him was safe and as happy as a baby could be. He was a source of light during dark times, solid proof that there was still goodness in their world, within his reach. Sirius played silly games with him without getting bored, tried to teach him words that James and Lily rebuked him for, and had become an expert at calming him to put him down for naps.

Sirius, still singing, slowly waved a finger in circles in front of Judith, watching her eyes follow it. He drew gradually closer to her face before lightly tapping the tip of her nose and making a sound meant to imitate an explosion with his mouth. She giggled audibly and Sirius couldn't help but laugh, the heaviness he'd felt after hearing Harry's confession easily floating away.

He wasn't sure exactly how long he ended up sitting with Judith, continuing to make her giggle and being entranced by her, but he eventually heard footsteps and forced his gaze away to see Beth walking back into the cell, a clean shirt on. She slowed as she took in the scene before her, clearly surprised to find Sirius in Michonne's place, but then smiled as she saw how calm and happy Judith was.

"How'd you get her to stop crying?" Beth asked quietly, dropping to a crouch on the floor next to Sirius' leg as she peered over the blankets swaddling her.

Sirius shrugged. "Sung her a song."

Beth scoffed, eyes widened in offense as she looked at him. "I sing to her all the time!"

Sirius knew that. He'd heard Beth sing to Judith before. She was a good singer. He couldn't help himself, though. "Guess I'm just better at it."

He mockingly braced himself as Beth grabbed a nearby magazine and began swatting at his shoulder, contorting his face into something between a grin and a grimace. "You—are—not!" Beth punctuated each word with a smack. Judith only giggled more.

Sirius leaned away from Beth and shielded himself with one hand, laughing. "All right, all right! You're right." He sighed melodramatically as Beth stopped swatting him. "You're the better singer."

Beth pointed a finger at him. "Don't you forget it."

Sirius gave her an exasperated smirk and passed Judith back to her before standing up with a groan.

"Hey, Sirius…" Beth said tentatively.

"Hm?" Sirius stretched, his mind drifting back to Michonne.

"Is Harry okay? He seemed sort of shaken when y'all got back."

"Ah…yeah, he was beating himself up a bit. Almost wasn't able to save Zach."

Beth's brow creased in confusion. "But he did."

"I know. He tends to be hard on himself. I think he was feeling guilty that he almost didn't get him back to you."

Beth frowned and looked back down at Judith, who was now falling asleep in her arms. "I sort of had a bad feeling about the trip today, about Zach going. It's why I didn't say goodbye to him. I wanted to focus on us living instead of him possibly dying. It felt like if I said goodbye, the universe would, like, see that as a reason to confirm my fears or something." Beth shook her head with a sheepish smile and looked back up at Sirius, who watched her sympathetically. Teenagers were supposed to be able to be silly and carefree in their relationships, enjoying the high that came with young love, not constantly bracing themselves for a likelihood that their significant other would be killed. "Anyway…I'm really glad Harry was there."

Sirius nodded and stepped away to leave the cell, pausing in the doorway to look back at Beth. "You should tell Harry that. I think it'd do him good to hear it."

Beth gave him a tight smile and returned her gaze to Judith without saying anything. Sirius decided to leave her to her thoughts and go back to looking for Michonne.

He searched the main cell block, the courtyard, and then cell block D before he eventually began wandering the tombs. He finally found her sitting against the wall on the floor, eyes straight ahead, brow furrowed. He stopped a few feet away from her and cleared his throat pointedly to announce his presence. She didn't so much as blink.

"You left in quite a hurry," Sirius said, trying to sound lighthearted.

Still not removing her gaze from the wall opposite her, Michonne dully replied, "I had…things…to take care of."

Sirius watched her, glancing from her, to the wall her eyes were fixed on across from her, and then back to her. "Wall guarding duty, I presume?"

Michonne gave a half shrug. "It's an important job."

"Absolutely." Sirius nodded emphatically. Then he cautiously approached and lowered himself next to Michonne on the floor. "Everyone else has their heads up their asses worrying about acquiring food and supplies, fortifying the fences, and all that nonsense. You're the only one sensible enough to make sure this wall is all right."

Michonne emitted a curt noise like the hollow ghost of a laugh. "That's because others don't understand the value of the wall. They don't understand that it deserves proper attention, that it should be protected at all costs, that it's important to always stay alert when guarding it."

Sirius tensed, staying quiet, but he didn't look at Michonne. He wanted her to release whatever storm was within her at her own pace without feeling pressured to do so. Instead, he waited with bated breath, mentally trying to get ahead of the road Michonne was going down to figure out where she would end up in anticipation of understanding her situation and how to handle it. He had a suspicion of what this was, but he hoped he was wrong. For Michonne's sake, he really, really hoped he was wrong.

"Not everyone takes guarding the wall seriously like I do," Michonne continued. "They're too wrapped up in their own nihilistic despair to tend to the wall…" And then, Michonne's breath hitched, and the pitch of her voice went up an octave with an angry waver as she went on. "…too concerned with escaping reality, while I bust my damn ass through the trenches of this fucked up world to keep the wall safe. I stare every threat right in the eye to ensure it never slips past me and reaches the wall, no matter how much my bones ache or my limbs shake. I would die over and over again if it meant the wall still stood."

Now, Sirius was looking at her, transfixed, unable to help himself, his jaw slack and his breathing uneven as something in his chest tightened like a vice. He wanted to grab Michonne's hand and squeeze it, to let her know he was here with her, but he needed her to keep going and he knew she needed to keep going, and he didn't want to deter her in any way from doing that. Even now, Michonne was still staring straight ahead, though her jaw had a subtle tremor to it that it didn't before. Sirius stayed quiet.

Michonne took a slow deep breath in and then out, her voice lowering again and resuming its previous steadiness, but Sirius didn't miss the way her fist clenched at her side. She shook her head. "I was blind…I entrusted the wall's safety to those…selfish people. It was only so I could go get some things to help keep the wall safe, but…when I got back…the wall had…fallen." She was still quiet, still said that last word as if it was any other word on any other day, still holding that carefully composed mask on her face, the only signal of any anguish being the furrow of her brow.

Everything around them was silent other than a sharp intake of breath from Sirius. He had no doubts now that his suspicions were correct. The image of Michonne holding Judith so close as if she could shield her from the world was currently haunting him.

"The wall fell, and I wasn't there," Michonne went on with a sour laugh. "The wall had only been standing for three years, and it went down without hearing how—" Her voice finally cracked as she shuddered. Sirius swallowed a hard lump in his throat. "—how much I cared about it." Her body shook with a sob. "I left that wall in the wrong hands, and it collapsed not hearing how loved it was."

The mask had been ripped off and Michonne openly wept, bringing shaking hands up to cover her eyes while her teeth were bared and her body wracked with sobs. Sirius' heart ached with sorrow as he watched her and took in what she had just told him. He was lost for words right then. Handling Harry's baggage was its own challenge, but he'd never known anyone personally with this exact type of pain that Michonne carried, and he was bitterly aware that he wasn't equipped to provide comfort of this magnitude.

He did the only thing he could think of. He lifted his arm and offered a gruff, "C'mere." Michonne stayed put for a moment, lowering her hands and finally looking over at him, skepticism sliding over her visage even through her tears, but then she scooted slightly closer and leaned into his ribcage, pressing her face against his chest. He brought his arm down around her and held her tightly against him. Maybe, for now, this would do.

They stayed like that for a little while, Michonne eventually quieting down and eyes drying. Once enough time had passed, Sirius cleared his throat and quietly asked, "What was…the wall's name?"

Michonne took a moment before breathing, "Andre." Sirius glanced down at her to see her smiling. "He was so sweet…curious…silly…" Michonne sat up a little but stayed under Sirius' arm, looking at him, her eyes taking on that steely glint they had had when she talked about the Governor. "I left him with his father and our friend while I got supplies. Those…pieces of shit…got so high that they were useless when Walkers attacked our camp. Too useless to defend themselves and too useless to defend Andre."

Sirius clenched his teeth as hot rage simmered beneath his surface. He had done plenty of stupid and reckless things while drunk and/or high, mostly in his younger days, before Azkaban. Never, though, had he ever been inebriated when Harry was in his care as a baby. That he made sure of. Even now, when Harry was a competent teenager, Sirius knew he would never allow himself to get in such a state that he wasn't sharp enough to defend him if the two of them were out there alone among the Walkers, no shelter or community to relax in. To be so self-centered and careless to put such a young, defenseless child at risk…Sirius was revolted.

Michonne brought him back to the present by releasing a snort of laughter, surprising him. "Down, boy, they've been dead a while now." She patted Sirius' hand that had been wrapped around her, holding her arm. Sirius realized belatedly how hard he was grasping her in his fury and instantly loosened his hold.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Michonne smiled. "I appreciate the anger on my behalf. I was angry for a long time myself…still am sometimes. But…if there's one thing I've learned from all of it, it's that…anger makes you stupid. I did stupid for a while and it almost got me killed multiple times." She looked at him seriously and shook her head. "I don't want to be stupid anymore. I want to live."

Sirius nodded slowly rubbing his hand up and down her arm as he heaved a deep sigh. She leaned her head back against him. After another shared moment of silence, during which they both seemed to be lost in thought, Michonne said, "So, tell me…was this whole comforting the crying chick thing just an attempt at getting in my pants?"

Sirius emitted a bark-like laugh. "I'm not thick enough to think something like that would work with you. In all honesty, you could tell me right now to piss off and never speak to you again. I would still just be grateful to have been there while you shared this with me."

Michonne took hold of the fingers on her arm and gave them a gentle squeeze of silent gratitude. Sirius tilted his head to rest on top of hers. He closed his eyes, enjoying the contact, and found himself more relaxed than he could remember being in a long time.

When Sirius failed to show up for dinner that night, Harry's initial reaction was to be worried, but upon noticing that Michonne was also absent, he figured there was a correlation. He couldn't help smirking to himself as he dug into his food, the idea of Sirius having a girlfriend being strange but amusing to him. After spending so many years in solitude and on the run, Sirius deserved some normalcy, some happiness.

Sirius and Michonne weren't the only ones who never showed up for dinner. Patrick wasn't there either, which Harry pointed out to Carl.

Carl looked around, scanning the tables and the cooking pavilion for signs of Patrick, before shrugging. "He's probably lying down. I'm sure he doesn't want to eat if his stomach's still bothering him."

"Yeah, true," Harry replied. "Think we should check on him?"

"He's probably fine. Patrick can be kind of…well, a wuss."

"Hey, don't be a dick," Zach chided softly. "I'll check on him after dinner."

When a couple of hours passed after everyone was done eating and Sirius still hadn't returned to the main cell block, Harry did start to find himself getting annoyed. It wasn't like he expected Sirius to be at his side at all times, not now that they knew they were safe in the prison community, but it wasn't like him to not be around for so long without at least letting Harry know what he was doing or where he was going. And Harry knew if the situation was reversed, Sirius would be in a right state if Harry disappeared without any communication.

Tired from the supply run and having a full stomach, Harry was more than ready for bed, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep if he didn't at least check if Sirius was okay or not. He started making his way through different parts of the prison, starting to get nervous as he wandered through the tombs with no luck yet. He eventually rounded one corner, however, and stopped in his tracks at what he saw.

Sirius was sitting on the floor against the wall, Michonne snuggled up next to him under his arm, her head on Sirius' chest and his head nestled against Michonne's head. Their eyes were both closed, their mouths slightly open, fast asleep. Harry suppressed a snort, smiling in spite of himself as he rubbed at the back of his neck. He considered waking them, knowing they would be sore in the morning if he left them on the floor, but they both seemed so at peace. Besides, Harry wasn't entirely sure he wanted to deal with the awkwardness of that interaction.

Instead, he left them as they were and went back to his cell for bed. Before he reached his cell, however, Beth approached him alone, her mouth open as she seemed to be collecting her words. Harry swallowed, suddenly nervous. He had shared a table with Beth at dinner, but Carl and Zach had been there as well. She was clearly seeking him out to speak one-on-one or she would have said whatever was on her mind when they were at dinner. Harry ran a hand through his hair and tried to seem nonchalant.

"Hey, what's up?" he said, aware that he sounded awkwardly chipper.

Beth stopped in front of him, smiling slightly, holding his gaze for a moment as she seemed to still be contemplating her words.

"I just…I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate you saving Zach today," she said. "He told me what a close call it was and…I can't tell you how much it means to me that you looked out for him."

"Oh!" Harry's heart fluttered. Beth was grateful for him. "It's no problem, really. I…magic's a brilliant thing, you know?"

He cringed internally. Magic's a brilliant thing…?

Beth released a quiet huff of laughter, her smile extending fully to her eyes. "Yeah…I wish I could protect people like you do."

"Oh, well, you don't need magic to protect people. I think if you were in a situation like that, you would find a way to protect, er…protect someone."

Her eyes brightened, her smile fading, but not disappearing. There was an earnest hesitance to her tone when she said, "You think so?"

"Yeah, I reckon there are loads of ways to protect people if you care enough. My…my headmaster…he's always saying how love is one of the strongest forms of magic…or something wonky like that." He laughed, as did she. "But what I mean is…you seem like the sort of person who would find a way to protect the people you love no matter what."

Beth continued to appraise him, looking thoughtful, and Harry focused on appearing as normal and neutral as possible.

"I hope you're right," Beth eventually said. "Anyway…thanks, Harry."

She leaned forward and gave Harry the slightest peck on the cheek before heading off, leaving Harry standing there trying to process things.

During dinner, Daryl sat next to Carol and across from Rick, who was holding Judith. Judith was fussy from having just woken from a nap, Beth having informed them that she hadn't slept very long. Rick wanted to make sure she ate, though, since she had vomited earlier. Daryl found himself watching as Rick tried to wave a spoonful of mushy food in front of his daughter, opening his mouth wide and making soft gasping noises as if trying to show Judith how exciting her food was.

Judith wasn't buying it. She kept turning her head away and making whining noises, but Rick persisted. His own plate was still half full, as he was only picking at it in between attempts at getting Judith to eat first. He didn't seem to mind, though, staying patient and continuing to make silly faces and noises in the hopes of enticing her.

Daryl loved Judith. He tended to her in small doses, but he did more playing with her and holding her than actual tasks like feeding her, cleaning her, and getting her to sleep. He knew he would kill anyone who threatened her and die for her without any question.

But god…Daryl couldn't imagine handling the day-to-day requirements of keeping a baby alive and well.

He allowed his gaze to drift from Judith over to the table where Carl sat with the other teenagers. The kid was tough, yet thoughtful. He was resilient. He didn't always do what he was told, but he did listen when someone was trying to teach him something. He had come a long way from the frightened little boy who endangered himself and others instead of keeping them safe. Perhaps it was too much toward the other extreme, one of a boy who was so determined not to let anyone hurt himself or others that he jumped to killing before being sure if there was even a threat. Daryl knew that Rick and Hershel had reined Carl in and were teaching him restraint.

However, he wasn't sure what Carl would be like if they were ever out in the wild without a sanctuary again. He had no doubts Carl would still be competent in terms of surviving and defense, but he wasn't sure if he would continue to exercise self-control.

Daryl himself had no qualms about killing someone he thought was going to hurt him or his family. He understood, though, that sometimes there were consequences to killing people, and he generally had a good sense of who was okay and who was a real threat. It was partly instinct and partly something he'd simply learned over the years through experience.

He wondered if it was something he was capable of teaching Carl, if needed.

Daryl shook himself out of his thoughts. Rick was still here, his words about needing Daryl to care for his kids if he was gone derived from an instance of being spooked. Besides, if, god forbid, something did happen to Rick, there would still be the others. Carol certainly wouldn't leave Daryl to bear responsibility for two kids on his own. Nor would, at the very least, Glenn, Maggie, Michonne, or Hershel.

He thought about Sirius and Harry, how Sirius now acted as Harry's father in the absence of his own parents. From what he'd learned of them both, Harry had other people back in his world who looked out for him, but Sirius had also been imprisoned for the majority of Harry's life. He'd helped with him here and there as a baby, spent a dozen years in Azka…place—and then reunited with the kid on the cusp of his adolescence. Now, in this world, Sirius was Harry's primary caregiver. Daryl saw the strain it often took on the man, noticing how frequently he doubted his parental abilities and decisions, but he had good instincts. It wasn't lost on Daryl or anyone else in the community how much the two genuinely seemed to enjoy each other. More importantly, Sirius demonstrated an ability to talk to and guide Harry. It was something Daryl wasn't sure he could do for Carl or, when she got older, Judith.

But then he thought back to the aftermath of Lori's death, when he had been in the tombs with Carl after Carl had shot his own mother to prevent her from turning. He remembered thinking the kid could use some comfort, to know he wasn't alone. While Daryl's experience with his own mother was quite different, he liked to think telling Carl about it helped him feel understood. It wasn't something Daryl had to do. It was something that had come to him naturally.

He relaxed somewhat, thinking that maybe he could be a good "godfather" to Carl and Judith the way Sirius was to Harry.

Carl's dad woke him at dawn the next morning to go to work outside since he'd had an easy day yesterday. As they walked out together, Rick informed him that Violet was dead. Carl uttered a soft, "oh," and nodded, not happy about the news, but not torn up over it. Mostly, he just lamented that the pig hadn't gotten to serve her purpose.

"You think we need to worry about the other pigs?" he asked Rick. "What if they have whatever she had?"

Rick shrugged. "It's possible. All we can really do right now is keep an eye on 'em. If she had something contagious, they've all already been exposed. We just have to wait and see."

Carl nodded again, his stomach churning with another thing to worry about. He had woken up this morning and still wasn't sure what he wanted to do about what he'd overheard from Carol. He kept opening his mouth as he followed his dad to the fields, only to keep closing it without any words he felt confident about releasing coming to the surface.

They had just started getting to work when Carl noticed Michonne and Sirius emerge from one of the side doors of the prison, strolling slowly toward the gate, deep in conversation. Carl watched them, arching a brow. The looks on their faces indicated they were in their own world, where Carl and Rick didn't exist. They were solemn, but not uneasy. Michonne seemed…lighter. She was always funny, calm, stoic, and empathetic, but Carl could always sense an inner turmoil from her. Granted, most of them had some kind of inner turmoil after witnessing violence, death, and destruction, and experiencing life-altering loss. Michonne, though, had a roughness to her that not everyone did. She kept it tamped down ever since becoming part of the community, but it was still a part of her. Now…now, she carried herself in a way that indicated something had been lifted from her. It was like she had always had a heavy weight on her back, keeping her body tense and rigid, and now her spine and her limbs were looser.

It made Carl smile.

He'd had his misgivings at the idea of Sirius being with Michonne. As much as he liked the guy, Sirius didn't seem—well…serious enough to love someone in a non-platonic way. Now, Carl saw that he appeared to offer something to Michonne that no one else could.

Carl glanced at his father, who was also watching the pair. When Rick looked Carl's way, he smirked slightly and returned his attention to the earth, offering a mild, "Mind your business."

As he and Rick worked, Carl thought he would at least try testing the waters on where his dad might stand when it came to the kids being taught to use weapons. He looked over at one of the fences, where Walkers were starting to gather, grabbing at the chainlink and pressing themselves against it. Sirius and Harry had been doing a good job of clearing Walkers beyond the gates, lessening their numbers considerably, but somehow, some were still finding their way over, as if they were drawn to the prison.

"We've got those," Michonne, who was now closer to Carl and Rick, called, nodding at the Walkers as she saddled up her horse, Flame. Rick nodded back and replied, "Thanks!"

Carl looked at his dad, working up his nerve. "That's a lot for just two people. Maybe we should help them."

Rick kept working without looking at him. "Sirius is a wizard. They'll be fine."

Carl bit his lip, glancing back at the Walkers and then to his father again. "Yeah, but he can only do so much. We could at least, you know, provide cover fire."

Rick gathered their greens and stood, still avoiding Carl's eye. "It's nothing they can't handle together. Besides, I have other plans."

Carl hesitated, knowing he was getting to the point of pushing it. "Well…Could I?"

"We have other plans. That's what I should have said." Rick moved past Carl, who had no trouble picking up the warning in his father's tone, letting him know that Carl's idea was off the table. It only confirmed that his dad would be very unreceptive to knowing about Carol's lessons in the library, so he decided to drop it for now.

Michonne and Sirius were past the gate, eliminating the Walkers without issue. Carl kept stealing glances their way while working, trying to avoid his dad noticing. Michonne was standing beside Flame, and Carl's heart sank as he realized she was going off to look for the Governor again. He was somewhat annoyed that she didn't say goodbye, but her coming and going was nothing new, and she was usually back within a few weeks. After all, she'd said as much that she planned to leave again after the Big Spot run. Carl just didn't realize she meant so shortly afterward.

Perhaps Sirius shared his feelings. He seemed to have become tense again, not angry, but definitely unsettled. There was an urgency to him as he spoke to her, as if trying to argue something with her. Michonne smiled at him, though, talking to him as if trying to comfort or calm him. Then, taking Carl completely by surprise, Michonne leaned forward and kissed Sirius.

Carl immediately turned his face to the cucumbers he was planting, feeling awkward and not wanting his dad to catch him being nosy. Rick didn't seem to be paying attention, though, so Carl carefully shifted his gaze back to Michonne and Sirius.

Sirius visibly stiffened at first as Michonne pressed her lips to him, but then his visage relaxed and he returned the kiss more deeply, bringing one hand up to gently cup her jawline and the other hand down to pull her waist closer to his. Both of their eyes were closed. They stayed pressed together like that for a bit before Michonne pulled away, smiling at Sirius again. She turned to mount Flame and reached a hand down to hold Sirius' hand for another moment. Then, she turned Flame away from the prison and toward the road. Before leaving, she looked over toward Carl and Rick and whistled to get their attention.

"I'll be back soon!" she called, waving a hand at them.

Carl halfheartedly raised his own hand. Rick returned the wave and called back, "Be safe!"

Grinning, Michonne called, "always," and rode away, Sirius standing there watching her go.

Carl heard his dad clear his throat and saw that he was looking at Carl with his brows raised in a stern way. Carl ducked his head and went back to work.

Just a few minutes later, as Carl and Rick worked and Sirius still stood there, a bang went off in the distance, back toward the prison. It sounded like a gunshot.

Carl's stomach lurched. He, Rick, and Sirius all went running back toward the gate as quickly as they could.

Sirius had woken to pain in his neck, back, and ass, groaning as he straightened up. His whole body was stiff and his legs asleep. He found himself momentarily confused as he blinked in his surroundings, slowly realizing he was sitting in a hallway in the prison, slumped against the wall. Then he was startled by the sensation of a small weight lifting from his chest, jumping slightly as he felt movement beside him.

Michonne.

She was still nestled under his arm, lifting her head as she also groaned, his movement apparently having stirred her from her own slumber. He lifted his arm so that she could sit up all the way, rolling his shoulder in circles and watching her squint in different directions. He couldn't help breathing out a soft laugh at her face being scrunched up in confusion like that.

She cast her half-open eyes his way, seeming to understand what was going on by the way she groaned again and then closed her eyes, yawning and bringing her hands up to rub at her eyes and face.

Sirius couldn't help grinning at her. "Morning…I think." The tombs were always relatively dark, so it was difficult to tell what time it was.

"Mmm…we fell asleep here?" Michonne asked, trying and failing to suppress another yawn.

"I believe so," Sirius replied, stifling his own yawn. "Does your ass hurt as much as mine?"

Michonne shifted where she sat as if trying to test her body. "My ass is numb."

Sirius laughed, then scrubbed a hand over his face and exhaled, opening his eyes wide and blinking a lot in an effort to wake himself up more. "I suppose we should get up. Christ, I never saw Harry off to bed."

The guilt that began coursing through him propelled Sirius to his feet, resulting in more pain shooting through his body. Michonne followed suit. Once he was fully upright, Sirius took a moment to stretch and crack several of his limbs before quickly moving down the hall.

Michonne caught up to him with a light smack to his arm. "How are you recovering so quickly? Is that some kind of wizard shit?"

"No," Sirius grinned. "A dozen years in a cell without a bed, and then another year sleeping in places like caves and alleys…I'm just used to waking up uncomfortable."

Michonne then surprised him by briefly leaning against his shoulder as they walked. "That…is insane."

Sirius shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose that describes a large portion of my life."

Not thinking about it, he dipped his head sideways as they walked and pressed a quick kiss to the top of Michonne's head. She stopped in her tracks for a few seconds before Sirius was aware and stopped as well, turning around to face her as he realized what he'd just done.

"Ah, shit, I'm sorry. I—"

But Michonne shook her head. "Don't be sorry. I liked it. I just wasn't expecting it."

Heart soaring, Sirius continued heading back to the cell block with Michonne alongside him. They stopped outside of his and Harry's cell to see that Harry was fast asleep. A different surge of fond affection coursed through him at the sight of his godson safe and sound.

"You going in?" Michonne whispered, nodding at the cell.

Sirius shook his head. "I'm too awake. Don't want to disturb him."

"Come with me, then."

Sirius followed Michonne to her cell, and she gestured for him to sit next to her on the edge of the bed. She lay her hands on her thighs and exhaled, glancing around her cell. "I'm going to go back out today."

Sirius' euphoria instantly evaporated, to be replaced with disappointment. He grit his teeth. "To look for the Governor?"

"Yeah. He's still out there. And now that I have an idea where to go, I might finally be able to make sure he's out of everyone's lives for good."

"Don't you think he already is?" Sirius argued.

"It doesn't matter…I don't know that he is."

Sirius huffed, looking away and shaking his head. "Don't you think you're more needed here?"

Michonne arched a brow at him. "I thought you said you weren't going to try to stop me?"

"I changed my mind," Sirius said haughtily.

"Oh, I see. Well, I haven't."

They stared—borderline glared—at each other for a moment. Sirius knew he wasn't being fair. Michonne owed him nothing. He just didn't want her to leave when they were breaking new ground with each other. Then he reminded himself what he told her about how he would be happy if all that came out of last night's interaction was that he had gotten to know such an intimate piece of her. He had meant it when he said it, and he still meant it now. His own wants aside, though, he also worried for her safety in her lone pursuit of the Governor, and Sirius realized he would be happier with Michonne staying and not having any contact with him than her leaving and possibly getting killed. However, he knew he would be a hypocrite to try to convince her to stay, as he understood all too well how there were certain things someone just needed to do. He sighed, and let himself be the first one to break eye contact as a sign of defeat.

"I'm sorry…you're right. I…" Sirius tentatively reached his hand toward Michonne and placed it on top of her hand. "I support whatever you want to do."

Michonne's features softened with another exhale. She brought a hand up to his cheek. "Thank you."

He leaned into her hand, closing his eyes and nodding. "Of course."

From there, Michonne packed what she would take for the road and he accompanied her outside, making a point to walk slowly to delay her departure as much as possible.

"I should only be two, maybe three weeks tops," Michonne said as they moved toward the gate. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, casting the sky in a swirl of orange, pink, and purple that seemed to converge over the remaining navy blue of night. Sirius could see Glenn descending from the top of the guard tower, having been on overnight watch duty. Off in the fields beyond the gate, Rick and Carl were starting some work with the vegetables.

"I look forward to it," Sirius said sincerely.

"Try not to pine for me too hard while I'm gone."

Sirius snorted. "You wish."

They walked in silence for another few beats before Michonne spoke again. "I…thank you…for last night. Coming after me and…" she huffed, rolling her eyes. "…comforting me. I've made a point to keep my distance from Judith since I've been here. When Beth passed her to me, it—it caught me off guard. All I could think about as she cried was if Andre cried before…" She cleared her throat. "I haven't said anything out loud about all that since it happened, not even to Andrea. For a long time, I tried to convince myself that the real me died with him, that it was part of someone else's life. But that kind of thing…it never really leaves you, no matter how much you try to detach yourself from it. Somehow, telling another living person about it…I feel more free, like I can be whoever I want to be now."

Sirius mulled her words over. He sort of understood what she meant. For over a decade now, his part in James and Lily's deaths had become a sticky part of his identity that he wanted nothing more than to remove himself from, but he was too ashamed to do so. Seeing Peter in the Daily Prophet with a Hogwarts student, potentially endangering Harry, had brought a piece of him to life that had been dead and decaying in Azkaban for years. He'd escaped and reunited with his godson, making it his new purpose to protect him and to atone for convincing his friends to switch Secret Keepers. He'd thought he could shed the identity of a failure bereft of his friends with a fresh start. Yet, the guilt and the pain lingered with him in a way he could never quite shake.

The "freedom" Michonne described had nothing to do with physical or legal freedom, which he also lacked back in his world. Rather, he believed she referred to the freedom that came from being able to move on from the past. It was something Sirius had been working toward, but had been rendered especially difficult when confined to his childhood house the last year, which, in addition to his identity as a person who got his surrogate brother and sister killed, also acted as a constant reminder of his identity as a Black, as someone who was known to believe that a large portion of the population not only didn't deserve basic rights, but didn't deserve the right to exist in general. Hatred, greed, sadism, and disloyalty ran through his veins when he wanted nothing to do with any of it. While the identity of failure to James and Lily had been hanging over him since his early twenties, the identity of being an untrustworthy, murderous Black had chased him since he was a young child.

Sirius longed for the freedom Michonne was referring to, and while he knew he hadn't quite attained it yet, he liked to think he was on his way, having edged even closer since arriving to this world.

Maybe that's why I was brought here…

He found himself watching Michonne for a minute without her notice, his heart swelling with admiration, proud of her strength and perseverance.

Michonne caught him looking at her. "What?"

Sirius looked away and cleared his throat, waving a dismissive hand and taking on an exaggerated air of aloofness, wanting to lighten the mood. "Oh, nothing, just imagining you kicking ass in a variety of different outfits. You know…rockstar, professor, healer, lion tamer…" Michonne laughed. "Whoever you are, I can't picture you without that damn katana."

"How am I going to train lions with a whip in one hand and my katana in another?"

"Obviously by applying your ample talent, you silly woman."

"Okay, okay," Michonne laughed, holding up her hand in a stopping motion. "You, Sirius Black, are putting me on waaay too high of a pedestal. My multitasking abilities are not one of my strong suits. If a bigass lion decides to attack me, I'm gonna need two hands on my katana."

"Nonsense," said Sirius. "I would be your guard dog and run interference."

Michonne grinned at him incredulously. "A dog versus a lion…? I like you and all, but you're straight up delusional if you think you're winning that fight."

Sirius put a hand over his heart in mocking offense. "How dare you doubt me? I've fought a werewolf as a dog, you know."

Michonne's eyes widened in genuine shock. "Seriously?"

"Well, yeah, would you expect me to do it Michonne-ly?"

Michonne's brow creased in confusion for a moment before her eyes lit in dawning comprehension. She tried and failed to stifle her laughter as she said, "That is the lamest joke I've ever heard," and playfully smacked his arm. Sirius could only laugh.

They continued walking in silence another moment as they approached the gate and brought Flame out of his stable. Sirius frowned at the cluster of Walkers clumped at one of the fences, wondering for the second time in twenty-four hours why waves of them were now appearing when he kept making trips to seek them out and dispatch them. It wasn't an amount he considered threatening, not enough to take down the fences, at least not yet, but it was still unnerving to him.

He noticed Carl looking their way, the expression on his face indicating that he seemed to be sharing a similar concern. Michonne glanced from the Walkers to Carl and Rick before calling out, "We've got those."

"Thanks!" Rick replied.

The two of them opened the gate and set to work killing the Walkers, finishing quickly and then moving down the road, Michonne eventually coming to a stop and facing him in a way that told Sirius she was about to say goodbye. The realization filled Sirius with a sudden dread. Beth's words about goodbyes popped into his head, juxtaposed alongside the memory of him passing baby Harry to Hagrid one Halloween night to go hunt down Peter. Alarm bells were going off inside him.

"Please…" he found himself saying quietly, "don't go."

"Sirius…" Michonne sighed, clearly exasperated.

"No—listen. Please…Look, I—I know I said I wouldn't try to stop you from going, but…I lost twelve years of my life because I was angry. Harry was a baby when his parents died, and instead of sticking around for him, I went searching for the bastard responsible for their deaths. I got framed, locked up in the worst place you could imagine, and missed out on twelve years with my godson, the only piece left of James and Lily. I let my grief and anger take control, and I paid the price for it. Harry paid the price for it. Not a day goes by that I don't regret it. I know the Governor deserves your wrath, but you said yourself: anger makes people stupid. You were right, okay? It made me stupid. It always made me stupid. You said you didn't want to be stupid anymore, so don't fall for the temptation to do it again…don't make the same mistake I made. Please…"

Michonne locked eyes with him, appraising him, her gaze soft and thoughtful. She smiled sadly. "This isn't just about anger for me. I know I told you I want revenge. I do. That hasn't changed, but it's more than that. I have dreams almost every night about that man coming to my home and harming my family again. Maybe he will, maybe he won't, but I don't want to give him that chance. I want to find him before he finds them. So while anger is giving me fuel, it's not what's driving me. The need to protect my family is. I need to go."

Sirius opened his mouth, the words "then I'll go with you" on the tip of his tongue, but he pulled them back before they could be released as he remembered he had Harry here. As desperately as he wanted to accompany Michonne and ensure she completed her mission successfully, he couldn't leave Harry, not again. He closed his mouth and exhaled through his nose.

"Okay," he breathed. "Okay…I understand."

She smiled at him. He tried to smile back, but could feel how strained it was.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Then, Michonne leaned toward him, and the next thing Sirius knew, her lips were finding his. He stood there, frozen for a moment as his brain caught up to what was happening, and then, his reluctance to part ways with her erupted into a motion of desperation. He maneuvered his lips around her own, his tongue finding hers, his hands pulling her closer to him. He closed his eyes, wanting to pretend for a moment that nothing else mattered, in this world or his own. For now, he and Michonne were one combined lifeforce, and he would cling to that for as long as he could.

Too soon, Michonne pulled away, gazing up at him fondly, flashing her beautiful teeth at him, her eyes all fire. She climbed atop Flame, reaching down to him, and Sirius automatically took her hand. They both squeezed briefly before Michonne let go and she and Flame turned away. Sirius was vaguely aware of Michonne calling a goodbye to Rick and Carl, saying she would be back soon, while Rick told her to stay safe. Before Sirius knew it, she was galloping down the road, gone.

A depression quickly snaked around him, planting his feet to the ground as if someone had cast a permanent sticking charm on his shoes. Michonne was no longer in sight, yet he couldn't bring himself to turn and walk back toward the prison.

The matter was taken out of his hands, though, when the unmistakable sound of gunfire boomed from the prison.

Harry…

He ran.

Harry was having another of his intermingled Walker world/Wizarding world dreams. This time, he was back at Hogwarts, on the Quidditch pitch. He and Ron were teaching Carl how to play, while Hermione, Beth, Zach, and Patrick watched from the stands. Carl was about to try throwing the Quaffle at the goalposts Ron was defending when Thestrals suddenly swooped down with Walkers on their backs. The Thestrals didn't try to attack, but the Walkers apparently had some ability to think in Harry's dream because they steered them like horses through the air. Harry reached for his wand but it wasn't with him. From another part of the stands, Malfoy called, "Oi, Potter! Missing something?" and smugly waved Harry's wand in front of him. Enraged, Harry turned his attention from Malfoy to quickly assess who was where as he heard his friends yelling and a Walker flew toward him. Then, Dumbledore appeared in the stands holding a shotgun, yelled in a booming voice, "Harry, MOVE!" and began firing at the flying Walkers, the gunshots loud as they reached Harry's ears and startling him enough to make him jump.

Harry sat bolt upright in his bed at the prison, sweating and panting. He quickly realized he'd been dreaming, but another round of gunshots echoed in the distance.

The gunshots were real.

He snatched his wand from under his pillow, grateful that Malfoy hadn't stolen it even though Malfoy wasn't here, and hurried from his cell, his eyes shooting in all directions before he realized the shots weren't coming from his cell block, but another part of the prison. He rushed down to the main level to find people scrambling either in panic or action, Hershel instructing everyone to "stay calm and stay put," while Daryl, Zach, Carol, and Tyreese rushed outside, presumably to retrieve weapons. Sasha was about to lock the gates to the tombs when Harry slipped by her.

"Block D's crawling with Walkers, Harry, wait for us!" she tried calling after him, but Harry ignored her. He already had his weapon. If what Sasha said was true, there wasn't any time to waste.

He sprinted through the tombs in his pajamas, acutely aware that Sirius had not returned to their shared cell, meaning he was probably in cell block D already if he had still been asleep on the hallway floor when the shots rang out.

Harry burst through the door to block D, where people were running around screaming while one guy named Leo, who was not known for being a fighter, clumsily attempted to shoot at Walkers with a shotgun. Harry spotted the closest Walker and yelled, "Reducto!" before immediately locking onto another one and doing the same thing.

"Go!" he yelled to the people rushing by him. "Go on! Get out! Now!"

He noticed one Walker converging on Karen, who had backed herself against a wall, and blasted it before it sank its teeth into her collarbone. Spinning around, Harry then saw with a wave of grief that a Walker was feasting on a woman on the floor just a couple feet from him. He blasted that Walker too and turned for another target.

Harry realized that Sirius wasn't here, or else more spells would be flying around. He was relieved his godfather wasn't in the thick of the chaos, but it made him worried that maybe he was in danger somewhere else. There was no time to think about that, though. Several people were in great danger here and he was the only one present to help them.

Harry directed his attention upstairs, where people had less room to move and were packed together tightly as they tried to escape down the staircase. Since there was no way he could get up there with them right now, he moved around below the walkway and pointed his wand upward, trying to shoot Reductor curses at the Walkers without hitting anyone living. It was harder to hit them directly in their heads at this angle, so Harry instead yelled, "Impedimenta!" and slowed down a handful of the Walkers upstairs.

He returned his attention to downstairs and saw a Walker bearing down on little Luke, who was crying and scooting backwards along the floor. Harry blasted that Walker and pulled Luke to his feet, pulling him by the arm and yelling "Move! Get in there!" pointing at a cell where Karen and David were taking refuge.

Whirling around, Harry saw Ryan trip and fall, a Walker hot on his heels. Harry yelled, "Depulso!" to send the Walker flying away and then blasted its head afterward. Ryan returned to his feet and cast an appreciative glance at Harry as he ran from the cell block.

Harry heard a growl behind him and spun to find a Walker right there, reaching for him. His heart sunk.

Patrick…

Harry immediately brought both his hands up to prevent Patrick—the Walker—from biting him, but his wand arm was stuffed so that he couldn't aim. He clutched at the Walker's shirt, trying to push it away and create space. He attempted to at least fire spells at its body without severely injuring himself in the process, but he couldn't think of anything sensible. The forward momentum of the Walker pushed Harry off balance and he fell backward with the Walker on top of him.

Harry grunted with the effort of holding the Walker away from him, his arms straining, his wand having fallen on the floor next to him. The Walker growled in his face, snapping its mouth, its hot breath nauseating.

A familiar, boltlike arrow shot into the Walker's head and it immediately dropped on top of Harry, still as stone. Harry coughed as the weight hit him and rolled himself out from under the Walker as quickly as he could, snagging his wand and stumbling to his feet.

Daryl, Rick, Glenn, Zach, Carol, Tyreese, and Sasha were rushing through the cell block, Rick asking people if they'd been bitten as they escaped. The group spread out, Daryl jogging toward Harry, who nodded at him in thanks as he tried to catch his breath. Daryl nodded back.

"You bit?" he asked as he shot a Walker coming out of one of the cells.

"No," Harry replied breathlessly, turning in different directions to see what needed his attention.

With the others there now, though, the rest of the Walkers were dispatched rather quickly. Once Rick called out that it was all clear, Harry moved over to Patrick's body, crouching down and rolling it from its side onto its back.

Patrick's glasses were off, whether because he'd removed them before turning or because they'd fallen off as his Walker corpse went on a rampage. Harry made a mental note to try to find them later, though he wasn't entirely sure why he thought that mattered. Looking at Patrick's eyes, he noticed that there were blood stains trailing from each of them, as if he'd been crying blood. Harry couldn't think of anything that would have made that happen. He knew he hadn't landed any spells anywhere near the Walker's face, as he hadn't even been able to hit its body.

Harry stood with a sigh, removing his own glasses momentarily to rub at his eyes in frustration. He hadn't been close to Patrick the way he was with Carl, but he still considered him somewhat of a friend. He knew Carl did, too, despite Patrick getting on his nerves sometimes. Come to think of it, Harry wasn't sure Patrick really had any family or loved ones at the prison. Harry had Sirius, Carl had Rick and Judith, Beth had Hershel and Maggie, and Zach at least had Beth. Patrick's parents were dead, he had no siblings, no surrogate parental figures that Harry knew of, and no one he was romantically involved with. He must have felt quite alone, and Harry lamented not thinking about this sooner. He would have made more of an effort to get to know Patrick.

Harry heard some of the others talking upstairs and went up to see what was going on. Daryl, Rick, Hershel, Bob, and Dr. S. were gathered around in one cell, standing over the corpse of a man named Charlie, who had also turned.

"Choked to death on his own blood," Hershel was saying. "Caused those trails down his face."

"I've seen it before," said Rick, "on a Walker outside the fences."

"I saw it on Patrick too," Harry spoke up, voice hoarse.

Dr. S. explained that the blood was from a pressure that had built up in the bodies of those with the trails. He said this was an illness unrelated to the Walkers, most likely an aggressive flu strain.

"Someone locked him in his cell just in time," said Hershel.

"No, man," Daryl said, "Charlie used to sleepwalk. Locked himself in. Hell, he was just eating barbecue yesterday. How can somebody die in just a day from a cold?"

Rick then told them that one of Carl's pigs appeared to have died the same way, and Dr. S. and Hershel theorized that the pigs had been the source of the flu, that pigs and birds were usually how this type of illness spread. Dr. S. expressed hope that they were lucky and that no one else would get sick, but Bob disagreed, saying how this form of flu spread quickly in close quarters like the prison.

"All of us in here…" Hershel said ominously, "we've all been exposed."

Harry's stomach twisted in knots at this declaration and a single chill passed over his body. He could use his magic to kill Walkers or fight other living people who threatened any of them.

What the hell could he do against a deadly disease?