Author's Note: Yooo, just a heads up, this chapter's going to be kind of a downer. Like...errybody's crying, y'all. I still think it's a good chapter, but I apologize in advance.

It was like nothing Daryl had ever seen. The closest comparison he could come up with was fireworks, but even they didn't compare. Fireworks had a brief lifespan, disappearing in wisps of smoke after making their appearance. They were fun and exciting. The sight of them didn't make the hairs on his arms stand up.

Glowing against the navy sky was a giant green skull with a snake protruding from its mouth, the snake slowly undulating before the skull in green blurs. It was obviously something magical. Nothing manmade could produce such a vibrant, animated image without a projector of some sort, and there was no question a projector wasn't responsible for this. Even if someone had somehow managed to access electricity and hook up such a contraption outside, it wouldn't have the ability to reach so high in the sky, to stand out so visibly with such depth and dimension.

And the look on Sirius' face…his eyes were wide with horrified recognition, as if he had just seen the ghost of a dead enemy, his mouth hanging open. Sirius had shown worry before, but nothing like the profound fear consuming his features now. The sight of him set Daryl's teeth on edge.

"Sirius…" he said somewhat hoarsely, hearing the dread in his voice despite trying to keep it steady. "What's going on?"

Sirius merely stared at the image for another moment before whispering, "No…" Then, his voice quickly crescendoing from a whisper to a desperate yell, Sirius got out of the car. "No, no, no, no, NO!"

His last "no" came out as a primal cry, and Daryl followed his lead by also getting out of the car, Tyreese and Bob doing the same behind him while also asking what was happening. Eyes glued to the image in the sky, Sirius took a few steps ahead of the car before sprinting down the road in its direction.

"Sirius!" Tyreese called. Sirius ignored him. Daryl looked back at Tyreese and Bob, who were glancing back and forth between the sky and to where Sirius had run off.

"The keys are still in the ignition," Daryl said. "Y'all get back in the car and follow. Keep your eyes peeled."

Before either Tyreese or Bob could protest, Daryl took off after his friend, running as quickly as he could. He caught up enough to see the outline of Sirius not too far ahead, his shoes pounding against the concrete in echoing slaps. Daryl only hoped there weren't any Walkers around to hear them. He glanced up at intervals to see they were indeed nearing the skull and snake image, though he wasn't sure what to expect, to where exactly Sirius was trying to reach if the image was way up in the sky.

Eventually, they approached a point in the road that lie almost directly below the image, Sirius' footsteps slowing as he veered somewhat off to the right, toward a telephone pole at the side of the road. Sirius conjured light from his wand to shine ahead of him. Confused, Daryl rushed to catch up with him, only to freeze when Sirius released a guttural shout of despair like the cry of a wounded animal. Daryl stood there momentarily as his heart raced, knowing only something horrible could elicit such a reaction from Sirius. After setting aside his shock, Daryl continued to close the distance between himself and his friend, who had dropped to the ground, sobbing, his wand falling beside him with the tip still lit.

Daryl reached Sirius to see his hunched form shuddering in the dark as he cried. He looked around, trying to assess the situation and not seeing anything, but he heard what was definitely a Walker growl somewhere above him. He slowly lowered himself to a crouch next to Sirius, placing a hand on his shoulder and picking up his wand, pointing it up to the source of the sound so that he could see properly.

His mouth fell open and his breath hitched, the bottom dropping out of his stomach as his chest tightened with grief. Near the top of the telephone pole, precisely under the green image, there was a body, tied to the pole with ropes wrapped around the chest, the waist, and the shins, the head turning in different directions as it growled, jaws snapping at the air.

Michonne…

Daryl took a few slow steps backward, his breathing picking up as his brain attempted to process what was happening. He was very vaguely aware of a quiet moan escaping his lips and the sound of Zach's car approaching somewhere behind him. He couldn't bring himself to pull the light from Sirius' wand away from Michonne's Walker corpse, a part of him still trying to discern if there was any way he could be mistaken, if this was merely a woman who looked like Michonne, but even from some ten to fifteen feet below, he knew it was her. He recognized the boots and the belt and the hair…He knew it was her, but he couldn't understand how. Michonne was too skilled of a fighter of both Walkers and humans alike for something like this to happen to her. It just couldn't be true…

The sound of car doors slamming shut partially registered to Daryl's ears as Tyreese and Bob came jogging over. Sirius still sobbed on the ground below him. Daryl couldn't tear his eyes, which he didn't realize were starting to water, from where Michonne was tied to the pole.

"Daryl, what—" Tyreese started to say, only to gasp as his eyes followed the wand light up to where Michonne was bound. "No…" he breathed, his voice soft and sad.

"This can't…how…what's going on?" Bob stuttered, his last few words emitted with an obvious anguish and frustration. Daryl could hear the authentic outrage in the man's voice and found himself able to, at least somewhat, let go of his anger toward him from his earlier discretion.

"It was them," Sirius eventually growled, his voice shaking with vitriol as he stood. He turned to face Daryl, his visage twisted with rage and pain, his eyes burning. "This is their mark, the Dark Mark. They leave it where they've caused death or destruction."

"Hold up. What are you talking about?" said Tyreese.

But Sirius only stared at Daryl, fury in his eyes as he silently communicated. Daryl understood. He was referring to followers of the evil wizard from his world—Death Eaters, he'd called them. He was referring to Death Eaters that had followed him and Harry to Daryl's world, that had left signs of their possible presence that Sirius and Daryl had agreed to keep quiet about, that Daryl had thought, by now, they had both been mistaken about.

It churned his stomach to realize they hadn't been mistaken, and that Michonne had suffered the consequences of their secrecy.

"Whose mark?" asked Bob after a moment of silence.

Sirius turned away, back toward the telephone pole, holding a shaking hand out to Daryl for his wand. He sniffed before answering. "The people from my world who are after Harry…they're here."

"Reducto!" Harry gasped as another Walker ambled toward him. Its head exploded and its body dropped to the ground, but Harry's body gave way as well, his legs collapsing beneath him as his hands flailed out for purchase. He sat on the floor, panting, as his surroundings spun with dizziness. He leaned back against a wall and closed his eyes until things felt more steady.

Henry had died while Hershel had been looking in on Harry. Then, Henry had turned, his Walker corpse going after David, who then also turned and went after Jeanette. People were beginning to die from the illness at an alarming rate. Dr. S. was among them, though, thankfully, he had at least locked his cell so that he couldn't go after anyone, his Walker corpse reaching through the bars at anyone who passed.

But before Harry or Hershel knew it, multiple people had turned and there was a decent handful of Walkers to be dealt with, which normally wouldn't have been too hard to handle, but Glenn and Sasha, the two most competent Muggles in block A, were incapacitated, both unconscious, Glenn struggling to breathe. Harry, the only one capable of magic, wasn't far behind them. Taking down one Walker took so much of his energy, and he had already killed three. He wasn't sure how much more he could do.

He glanced back up toward the balcony, where Hershel was struggling to keep Glenn alive, while Lizzie slowly backed down the balcony in the opposite direction, leading a Walker toward her and away from Glenn, speaking and gesturing to it like it was a dog, even going so far as to say, "C'mere, boy!"

Harry groaned and pushed himself to his feet, clutching at the bars of the nearest cell for support, though his hands slipped around them with how sweaty he was. Once fully upright, he took a moment to catch his breath, but when Lizzie screamed somewhere above him, he forced himself into gear, shuffling toward the steps and grasping at the railings on either side, leaning heavily on them as he pushed himself up to the second floor of cells, grunting with the effort. Sweat soaked through his t-shirt and left his hair more wet than dry. Every step felt as if it was costing him as his breath came in and out in what were becoming painful gasps, his limbs slackening with the effort.

He paused as blackness clouded his vision again, but immediately shook his head to clear it, the sound of Lizzie's frantic whimpers and a Walker's intensified growls pushing him onward.

When he reached the top of the landing, he dared a glance over to where Hershel was pumping air into Glenn through an intubation bag, Glenn's skin and lips changing in color from a lack of oxygen, his breath sounding like that of a fish out of water.

"Come on, Glenn. You gotta get through this, son," Hershel muttered desperately. "You got a kid on the way who needs their father. Please, son…please hold on…"

There was a pleading to Hershel's tone that perturbed Harry, as it revealed that Hershel was truly worried. Yet, his voice was also full of love, full of hope, and if it could reach Glenn's consciousness, Harry knew Glenn would fight as hard as possible.

Harry swallowed and turned away, eyes darting around for Lizzie to find that she had backed herself against a wall at the end of the balcony, having pulled at the end cell's door only to discover it was locked, her plan apparently having been to take cover in there. There was a clear panic in her eyes as she searched for an escape, her breathing transitioning to hyperventilation as the Walker closed in on her.

Harry aimed his wand at the back of the Walker's head as he himself panted. He was having double vision, the Walker blurring into two so that Harry couldn't tell if his aim was true or not. He growled to himself with frustration, deliberately scrunching his face into a glare in an attempt to focus properly. The blurred images of the Walker melded together and he had his target in sight. He steadied the wand in his trembling hand as much as he could before shouting another, "Reducto!"

The force of the spell knocked him back again, though this time, he was able to grab hold of the balcony railing instead of totally falling to the floor. His aim wasn't entirely accurate either, hitting the Walker just below the neck instead of the skull, but it was enough to do the job. The neck exploded enough to detach from the shoulders, and the head and the torso fell separately. Blood once again splattered Harry as he leaned against the railing, overwhelmed with coughs. He experienced a surge of intense irritation as he wondered how much his progress of getting better was being hindered by continuing to get more infected blood on him.

"You all right?" he gasped as Lizzie seemed to collect herself. She nodded.

"I thought he would understand," Lizzie said, looking at the Walker Harry had just snuffed out. "It really seemed like he was listening to me for a minute."

Harry looked back over at Hershel and Glenn to see that Glenn's symptoms seemed to have subsided somewhat, his breathing more even now and Hershel smiling sadly down at him while holding his head in his lap. Glancing back at Lizzie, Harry said, "You still did good. You bought time for Hershel to help Glenn."

He put a bloodstained hand on her shoulder and tried to smile at her. Lizzie, brow furrowed and lips pouted as if about to cry, nodded and looked over at Hershel and Glenn.

"That's it, son," Hershel said soothingly. "In and out, keep breathing. That's your job, to just keep breathing. We've all got jobs to do."

Hershel looked up and caught Harry's eye, offering him a strained smile as well and a single nod of gratitude.

Harry, half standing, half leaning, still panting, could only stare at Hershel in awe. Sure, Harry had killed most of the Walkers in the cell block, but Hershel had held everything together, had stayed in control even when Harry wasn't sure he himself could. The man had moved from person to person and said and done everything possible to keep them alive, and when they hadn't lived, he'd moved on to the next one. It wasn't with any sort of cold detachment. It was with a fiery grit, allowing himself a brief moment of mourning before taking steps to make sure the same thing didn't happen to someone else. Harry's efforts wouldn't have mattered if Hershel hadn't been here.

In this cell block, Hershel was the powerful one.

It was somewhere between night and day when Carl's dad called for him, startling him from a state of near sleep and returning him to instant alertness. Carl had been sitting in the hallway with Maggie and Judith's office, his head starting to loll forward on his chest as he fought the tiredness forcing itself upon him, when Rick had started calling his name from one of the approaching hallways.

Carl hurried to his feet to meet his dad, both of them stopping to leave space between each other out of caution.

"What's up?" Carl asked, worried.

"Carl…" Rick said, sounding somewhat frightened in a way that made Carl nervous. "Has Harry ever said anything to you about…skulls or snakes?"

Completely perplexed, Carl wracked his brain for any such topic coming up in conversation with Harry. There were a couple things he could think of. "He…he said he can talk to snakes. Like…he can understand them and speak with them. He also killed a giant snake once. It was turning other kids to stone or something. I don't remember anything about skulls. Why? What's up?"

Rick held his gaze for a moment, chin tilted down slightly as he appraised his son. "There's something outside, in the sky, just beyond the prison."

"What is it?" Carl asked, shaking his head impatiently.

"I don't know," Rick replied with a frustrated edge to his voice. "Come look at it with me?"

Carl nodded and hurried after his father as they left the administration building, moving across the courtyard, where Rick beckoned for him to follow him up the guard tower. Once at the top, Carl stood next to his dad and looked out beyond the prison yard and the woods.

Everything was bathed in a green glow, the source of which sat up in the sky just a little ways beyond the prison, maybe a mile or so out. It was a skull with a snake sticking out of the mouth, even moving slightly as if it was a real snake just lounging in the sky, waiting for prey. Carl swallowed, the sight giving him chills. Since it had to have been derived from a magical person, Carl's mind raced to think of any reason Harry or Sirius might have conjured such a thing. Harry was, as far as Carl knew, still confined to block A, so it was unlikely he had anything to do with it. Could it be something Sirius had made? Maybe it was some sort of wizard distress call, like an SOS. Maybe the group retrieving antibiotics was in danger and needed help.

Something inside him told him that definitely wasn't right, though. If the symbol hadn't been made by Harry or Sirius, then that could only mean one thing.

There were other wizards in Carl's world. And, recalling what Carol had told him about teaching the kids to defend themselves against wizards, he had a feeling they wouldn't be good ones.

Perhaps he was jumping to conclusions. This symbol could be anything. Who said it had to be something bad?

Because skulls and snakes are usually seen as symbols of darkness or evil, dummy. Carl resisted the urge to roll his eyes at himself. He went back to thinking about the times Harry had brought up snakes that Carl had just mentioned to his father. Harry could speak with snakes, so maybe this was something of his doing. Maybe it was some kind of…call to action for wild snakes to follow. What Harry could possibly be asking them to do, he had no idea, but he wouldn't dismiss it as an option. Maybe the image was a warning that Harry and Sirius used to communicate in code.

Both of those ideas sounded farfetched. Carl turned to thinking about how Harry had defeated the giant snake that had been hiding in his school. He remembered Harry saying the snake had been attacking people—Muggleborns, to be specific—on someone else's orders…on the orders of the dark wizard who had tried to kill Harry.

That sent a swooping sensation through Carl's stomach as his instincts clicked in a way that told him he was on the right track. If the dark wizard from Harry's world used snakes as a weapon, it stood to reason that snakes were of some sort of symbolic importance to him, and it made even more sense that the image in the sky now was somehow connected to him as well.

"It can't be anything good," Carl muttered, more so to himself than for his dad to hear.

"I don't think it can be either," Rick replied.

Carl looked over at his dad. "Should we check it out?"

Rick looked back at him, his eyebrows popping up and the corner of his mouth lifting. "You want to check out the supernatural skull and snake combo floating in the sky? Does that look like something warm and welcoming to you?"

"You want to just ignore it?" Carl argued. "Pretend it's not there? The others will see it eventually too."

"That thing screams 'trap.' Use your head, Carl. It's just down the road from here. You don't think someone's trying to lure us out?"

"Maybe!" Carl exclaimed frustratedly. "But what if it means something's coming, and we could stop it if we get to it first?"

"Even if that's the case, everyone is safer here."

Carl looked away, shaking his head in irritation. He knew his dad was right that facing a threat at the prison was safer than facing one beyond the yard, but he didn't like the idea of doing nothing either. Maybe they could get ahead of this possible threat and eliminate it, ensuring no one at the prison was at risk besides the two of them. He didn't want his dad letting something bigger happen just to keep him safe.

"Listen, Carl…" Rick said more softly. "We don't have a lot of able-bodied people here right now. Almost everyone who is here is sick. Daryl's group is out and we don't know when they'll be back. The people here need us right now, and they need us here. If we go check that thing out, something happens…they'll be sitting ducks."

Carl scrutinized him, slightly taken aback at hearing the same sense of respect in his father's words as he had in Hershel's just over twelve hours ago. Hershel had spoken of Carl taking his own safety seriously, and not in the annoying way adults did just because he was technically a kid, someone fragile who needed to be protected. Hershel had spoken of what Carl could do for the world, for the future…for what he as a person was capable of. Rick was now speaking in a similar way, his desire for Carl to not go running toward the potential danger coming not just from a place of protecting his child, but from knowing he was an asset to their community that couldn't afford to be lost.

Shoulders relaxing somewhat, Carl sighed and nodded. "Okay. So what do you think we should do then?"

Eyes roaming beyond the guard tower thoughtfully, Rick grimaced and said, "In other circumstances, I'd say let's ask Harry about it. I'm not sure I want to give him something to worry about while he's sick, though. His body doesn't need any extra stress right now. I think…" Rick exhaled and shook his head. "I think you and I just need to hold down the fort, keep an eye out, then hopefully Sirius has an answer when he gets back, which should be soon. We'll stay out here through sun-up, at least. I know that's not the answer you want—"

"No, that's…it sounds like the smart thing to do," Carl said. "I know Hershel's busy in A and Maggie's in isolation, but do you think maybe we should at least let Carol and Beth know what's going on? They could help us keep an eye on things."

For some reason, Rick's expression woodened. He pursed his lips briefly before answering. "Nah, I think you and I can handle this."

Carl had a feeling there was something his father wasn't telling him, but he decided to trust him. "Okay."

The sky was just beginning to lighten up as the sun started to appear above the horizon, the navy background becoming tinged with hints of purple and gold. Yet, the Dark Mark still hovered in all of its menacing gloom, a blight on the otherwise peaceful landscape. Sirius had stood there staring up at Michonne's Walker for an indeterminable amount of time, tears still stinging his eyes, but the majority of his sobbing having subsided, at least for now.

"Are you sure this was done by wizards?" Tyreese asked. "This couldn't be the Governor?"

"How's the Governor gonna get her tied up that high without something to climb on?" Daryl asked somewhat impatiently.

"And no way no man made that skull thing," interjected Bob.

Sirius opened and closed his fist around his wand. He couldn't stand Michonne being tied up there, but he knew that bringing her down officially meant saying goodbye, and he wasn't ready for that either. He squeezed his eyes shut and thought about the last time they'd seen each other, trying to tell himself that that was their goodbye, not this. Their real goodbye had been passionate, warm, and electric, full of promise. It had been that moment where they had been connected by a deeper power, with both of them yearning to keep the other safe: Sirius by trying to prevent Michonne from leaving, and Michonne by trying to prevent a threat from coming for Sirius. That was the moment Sirius would cling to.

He severed the ropes and directed Michonne's corpse to slowly float down to him, keeping her stopped just before her feet could touch the ground so that she couldn't come after him to bite him. He stared into her now cloudy eyes and watched her jaws snap indiscriminately as she hovered before him, her arms and legs clawing and kicking as her new instincts told her to pursue flesh. Sirius' throat burned and he shuddered with a sharp intake of breath as another onslaught of emotion overwhelmed him, his eyes blurred with continued tears.

"I—I can't ki—I can't put her—" He let out a frustrated huff as he swept his free hand down his face, unable to even utter the words he needed to make the thing happen that he couldn't bring himself to make happen. Daryl seemed to understand what he was trying to say, though, nodding and sniffling before unsheathing a knife and walking behind Michonne, hands held out in front of him somewhat hesitantly.

"You got her?" he asked Sirius with a quiet gentleness. Sirius knew he was checking that Michonne wouldn't be able to turn around and bite him.

"Yeah," he replied gravelly, grinding his teeth together so hard that his jaw shook with the strain, his breathing picking up speed as he prepared himself for what was going to happen.

Daryl nodded again, released a slow, heavy exhale, and then reached his knife up to the back of Michonne's head. Sirius heard a quick squelching noise that sickened him inside before the Walker abruptly stopped growling and moving, Daryl backing away with his knife now smeared with blood, his lip quivering.

Sirius closed the space between himself and Michonne and stopped holding her in place with magic, letting her body drop limply, his arms catching and wrapping around her before slowly bringing her to the ground with him. He sat with his legs out in front of him, spread out somewhat, and positioned Michonne so that she was laying sideways against his body, her legs limp on the ground between his while her torso rested against him. He kept one arm wrapped around her back while the other hand held her head against his chest, just under his chin.

He nestled his cheek against the top of her head, thinking about the other night, when they'd fallen asleep in the tombs together. He longed for that to be the situation now: that either Michonne was asleep and would wake at his touch, or that he was currently having a nightmare she would rouse him from. There were so many things he would give to have that night with her again, to freeze his life right then and there to stay with her and maintain that connection. Even though they hadn't known each other long, they'd quickly come to know each other well. Not miscellaneous trivia about each other, like favorite foods or music preferences, birthdays or middle names. They had known each other's souls. He knew it sounded hokey, but he also knew it was real.

Sirius heaved another course of sobs and pressed his face harder against her head, his eyes clamped shut and his teeth bared as he let out a guttural sort of growl, wishing for nothing more in that moment than to follow where she'd gone. He stroked her hair as he held her close, gently rocking her as everything inside him poured out for all to see.

After some while, once Sirius' anguish had dulled down to a low rumble instead of an entire eruption, Daryl crouched next to Sirius, averting his eyes from Michonne's body. "We gotta take her home."

Sirius nodded against Michonne's hair, taking a deep breath in and out before pulling his face away from her and looking at Daryl. When he saw Daryl's wet eyes and knit brow, he remembered he wasn't the only one grieving. He knew Daryl and Michonne had been good friends.

"Help me stand her up?" Sirius asked in a voice hardly above a whisper. Daryl nodded and shifted so that he could wrap one of Michonne's arms around himself while Sirius did the same with her other arm, both of them standing at the same time. They were hefting her toward the car with the intention of laying her down in the backseat, but Bob moved in front of them, holding up a tentative hand.

"Would it be all right if I…examine her really fast?" he asked, eyes shifting around uncomfortably at the risk of asking them such a thing after the booze incident. "I'd just like to check her for injuries, get a good idea of what we're looking at."

Sirius knew it was a waste of time, knowing Michonne had been killed by magic, but he figured it might be helpful for them to better understand what they were up against. "Sure," he mumbled, adjusting his hold on Michonne so that he could prop her up more securely.

Bob finally made eye contact with him and offered a tight smile of appreciation. Then, he began looking over each of her limbs one by one, lifting certain parts of her clothes with utmost respect. After a moment, he stepped back shaking his head.

"Only wound I can find is Daryl's. No bites, deep cuts or abrasions, no indication of suffocation, no bullet or stab wounds, no signs of the flu from the prison. There could be something her clothes are hiding, but they're still snug on her, no tears or rips indicating the skin beneath was harmed. She appears to be entirely unscathed."

"The killing curse doesn't leave any marks," Sirius said venomously. "It kills the person in a fast flash of light."

"Killing Curse?" asked Tyreese.

Sirius nodded at the car while looking at Daryl and they resumed bringing her over, Tyreese hurrying to open the door for them before they gently lay her body along the back seat. Sirius stared at her for another moment. He suddenly noticed that her katana wasn't on her, and that it was nowhere to be seen near the telephone pole. He swallowed down a fresh wave of anger before looking back at the others, who were all watching him with a somewhat frightened curiosity.

"There are three Unforgivable Curses," he breathed. "The use of them is considered nothing short of heinous and will land you in prison for life. The mind control curse is the Imperius Curse. The caster is able to make a person say and do whatever they want. The torture curse is the Cruciatus Curse. Causes the victim unbearable pain. If applied for too long, the victim can be rendered insane. And Avada Kedavra is the Killing Curse. Kills you right then and there on the spot. Harry is the only known person to have been hit by it and survive."

Daryl held his gaze solemnly, his eyes reflecting a sort of infuriated incredulity. Tyreese exhaled in a low whistle, eyes wide and gazing off to the side unseeingly as he took his beanie off and rubbed his hand over his head. Bob stood with his mouth open, brow furrowed in disgust.

"So…for Michonne," Tyreese said slowly as he returned his beanie to his head, moving his eyes back to where Michonne's body lay, "if she was hit with the Avada one—the Killing Curse—it was…quick then? Painless?"

Sirius felt his hackles twitch upward. "It should have been, yes. If the Death Eater who did it knows what's good for them…" Sirius turned and took a few steps away from the others, facing the side of the road and the woods beyond, raising his wand. "IT BETTER HAVE BEEN QUICK AND PAINLESS!"

He fired a hex out haphazardly toward the woods, blasting the edge of a tree away with a loud crunch.

"What are you doing, man? Be quiet!" Tyreese whisper-yelled from behind Sirius.

"YOU WANT ME?" Sirius roared. "I'M RIGHT HERE!" he fired more hexes off in different directions, some of them hitting trees, some disappearing beyond his sight. "YOU GODDAMN COWARDS! COME OUT AND FACE ME!"

There were some low growls as a few Walkers ambled out from different directions. Daryl hurried over, positioning himself in front of Sirius with his palms out in surrender. "Man, I wanna get them too. I do. But we gotta get—"

Sirius stepped around Daryl and fired more spells out, some of them hitting the Walkers, but even the sight of their heads exploding didn't bring him any satisfaction. He wanted someone alive. His eyes darted around in search of someone hiding, running, or falling after taking one of his hits. He felt like he was being toyed with. Whoever had killed Michonne and left the Dark Mark behind had known there was some sort of relationship between her and him. It was why her body was left in a high place where Walkers couldn't tear her apart and leave her unrecognizable, or where she couldn't become a Walker and wander off. They were clearly aiming to hurt him through her, and he wished they would come for him now so that he could punish them and get them out of the picture instead of leaving him helpless to do anything. He wasn't sure he had the emotional energy for this to be dragged out any more.

Daryl appeared in front of him again as Sirius loaded his wand back to hurl some more of his anger out there. Daryl's hands were still held out before him, his head tilted down slightly with his eyebrows raised. Sirius panted as he glared at his friend, who watched him with a pleading patience. He remembered the last time he had been in such a state and Daryl and tried to interfere, resulting in Sirius punching him. A distant part of him couldn't help admiring Daryl's courage for putting himself in the same position. Still…it took a lot of restraint for Sirius not to shove Daryl out of his way.

"We gotta get that medicine back," Daryl said with a desperate waver in his voice. "You still got Harry, and he's sick and he needs you."

And all his rage simmered back down just like that, worry bubbling up in its place. It was like Daryl saying Harry's name snapped him out of a trance. Michonne was dead and Harry was sick and Sirius was here, looking for revenge—again—when he had something more important to do.

He nodded, pointing his wand at the Dark Mark and vanishing it wordlessly before his wand arm fell to his side in defeat, his shoulders slumping. He turned back toward the car.

Sirius went to the back door on the driver's side, delicately lifting Michonne's upper body from the seat. He slid into the car and lay her across his lap, while Tyreese came in from the passenger side, gently lifting Michonne's legs and letting her feet rest on him. Daryl got in the front passenger seat, leaning his head against the window and closing his eyes, while Bob got behind the wheel. During the last few minutes of their drive down the road to the prison, Sirius caressed Michonne's forehead and cheek with his knuckles, inwardly vowing to make someone pay for this.

"Anger makes you stupid…I don't want to be stupid anymore. I want to live."

But Michonne didn't get to live. So Sirius would be stupid enough for the both of them.

Daryl felt a constant pressure behind his eyes as he struggled to contain his emotion as best as he could for as long as he could, at least until they were back and the medicine had been distributed. He couldn't afford to fall apart now, not yet.

He was weighed down with an overwhelming urge to look behind him at Michonne's lifeless form in the backseat, as if to truly convince himself she was dead. He also knew that looking at her again would break the walls he was currently struggling so hard to hold up.

Maybe a minute away now. Just a little longer.

It occurred to him that Michonne still had a bloody wound from his knife in the back of her head, which he knew without needing to look that Sirius was cradling. He hunched over for the bag on the floor between his feet and rummaged through it until he found a bandana. Wordlessly, and without turning his head, Daryl held the bandana over his shoulder, hoping Sirius would understand what it was for. He felt the bandana being taken from his hand after a moment, and since neither Sirius nor Tyreese spoke or asked any questions, he was pretty sure its purpose was understood.

It was mostly daylight out when they approached the prison gates, Daryl finding himself nervous as he watched Rick and Carl descend from the guard tower to open them. He swallowed a hard lump at the prospect of delivering the bad news, knowing it would only make things more real. Carl would be devastated. He had gone from not trusting Michonne to forming an affectionate bond with her, one that probably gave him some comfort after Lori died.

Daryl was hit with another pang of grief at the thought of telling Carl. It had been bad enough knowing Beth had to be informed about Zach, and Lizzie and Mika had to be informed about Ryan, but he hadn't had to deliver the news himself in either of those situations.

He was the leader of this mission. The burden fell on him.

Bob drove them through the gates and then parked the car as Rick and Carl backed away to give them room, the two of them grinning in both excitement and relief, waiting for everyone to exit the car.

Daryl couldn't move. Bob wasn't moving next to him. Sirius and Tyreese weren't moving behind him. All Daryl could think about was how he didn't want to get out of the car. But Rick and Carl's smiles both slowly fell as they saw no one exiting. Rick made eye contact with Daryl through the windshield, while Carl's eyes moved between Daryl and Bob. It was unlikely they could see in the backseat from where they stood, at least not well enough to see Michonne lying across Sirius and Tyreese's laps.

Daryl knew Rick well enough by now to read him with little effort. Rick's mouth opened slightly, his brow furrowing, in a way that meant, "Did someone die?"

Not wanting or needing to nod, Daryl only stared back heavily, knowing his eyes would answer Rick's question. This was confirmed when Rick turned around to slowly pace a few steps away, his hand scrubbing over his face absently, while Carl watched his dad with confusion.

It was time to face the music. Daryl squared his shoulders as well as he could and opened the car door, stepping out and staring at both Rick and Carl now.

"Well, what happened?" Carl asked somewhat impatiently. "Did you get the meds?"

Bob exited the car and the doors opened behind Daryl without Sirius or Tyreese emerging, Daryl knowing they were probably trying to handle Michonne properly. Sirius could easily levitate her body, but Daryl was pretty sure he didn't want to. Daryl opened his mouth and closed it again, looking between Rick and Carl. He tried to speak, but had to lick his lips because of how dry they were. Finally, he simply said, "Michonne…"

Rick immediately closed his eyes in pained understanding. Carl shook his head at Daryl and, an angry edge to his voice, said, "What about Michonne?"

Daryl could only bore his eyes into Carl's. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry.

When Daryl still didn't verbally answer, Carl scoffed and glanced all around him, agitated. "Wha—did you run into her or something?"

But the knowing was in Carl's eyes, along with the determined denial. Daryl could see it, recognize it. Carl knew what he was trying to tell them but didn't want to accept it. Daryl couldn't bring himself to say more as he heard Sirius and Tyreese bringing Michonne out of the backseat. He looked down at the ground.

Sirius and Tyreese came alongside Daryl, propping Michonne's body up in between them. Daryl couldn't bring his head up, but he could still see out of his peripheral vision. He didn't have to look up, for instance, to see Carl take a few slow steps backward, mouth open, breath coming in and out heavily.

"Carl…" Rick's voice said sorrowfully, trailing off.

Daryl tilted his head up only slightly to see that Carl was shaking his head in disbelief, staring at Michonne. "No, she…that's…Michonne…"

Her name came out of Carl's mouth as a devastated whine, the kid's anguish breaking Daryl's heart even more. Carl turned and ran toward the prison, Rick calling after him uselessly, both of his hands on his head.

Daryl brought his head all the way up now as Rick stepped closer to the rest of them, sighing heavily. Sirius and Tyreese brought Michonne closer and Daryl kept his eyes determinedly fixed on Rick to avoid looking at his dead friend.

They all stood there in silence for a moment before Sirius, voice raspy, said, "I want to give her a proper burial, but I need to see Harry, get everyone their medicine first."

"You want to put her in her bed for now?" Rick asked. "Put a blanket over her cell door so no one sees her?"

Sirius nodded, he and Tyreese wordlessly taking Michonne into the prison, leaving Daryl, Rick, and Bob standing there. Daryl immediately went back to the car to unload everyone's bags so he could bring the antibiotics inside, carrying them on both shoulders. Bob reached a hand out to him to take something to carry, but Daryl shook his head, making firm eye contact with him.

"Just get your own," Daryl said quietly. Bob immediately looked down at the ground before dropping his hand and nodding. He returned to the car to retrieve his medicine-free bag as Daryl continued on to the prison, walking past Rick without looking at him, but knowing he would follow him.

"Hey…" Rick said, speeding up his pace to keep up with Daryl's fast stride. "Hey."

Rick shuffled in front of Daryl, touching a hand to his shoulder to stop him. Daryl came to an abrupt halt and exhaled sharply through his nose, turning his head to look away as Rick tried to catch his gaze.

"Why don't you give yourself a minute?" Rick said gently. "I can take the meds to them."

Daryl was screaming inside. If he didn't move now, right now, he was going to lose it and it was going to be messy. Keeping his gaze fixed on the ground next to Rick's shoes, he said, "I gotta go, man," and immediately moved past his friend, who didn't follow him this time.

As long as he carried these bags, he could keep carrying his grief without spilling it everywhere.

Carl sat against the brick wall of the secluded corner where he kept the bat and trash can he had Harry beat up on. He had his knees folded upright, wrapping his arms around them as his body heaved with sobs. Finding out Michonne was dead had flipped a switch inside him, taking him from being numb to everything else that happened over the last few days to overwhelmed with emotion. He kept swiping at his eyes only for more tears to immediately replace the ones he wiped away, pissing him off.

Not that he wasn't already pissed off. He was angry that Michonne hadn't given him a proper goodbye. He also didn't know how she died, but unless she had also managed to kill the Governor, she died for no good reason. The Governor didn't need to be found as long as he was staying away, which he had been. She didn't have to be out there.

He was jumping to his feet before he even realized it, snatching up the baseball bat and smashing at the can with wild swings, no pause in between, grunting and growling at each impact. He hit the can so hard that it bounced and shifted with the vibration.

Why her?

BANG

It's not fair!

BANG

I want her back!

BANG, BANG, BANG

"Carl…"

Carl recognized his dad's voice behind him, but he didn't stop, even though his breath was coming out ragged and his view of the trash can was blurry from his tears. He imagined the can was whoever had killed Michonne, because he knew it was no Walker. She was too adept to die that way.

"Carl!"

With a roar of rage, Carl flung the bat at the wall, almost getting hit by it as it bounced back, and spun around to face his father, yelling, "WHAT?"

Rick frowned at him, eyes glassy. Carl watched as his dad stepped toward him slowly, waiting for him to speak, but when Rick reached Carl, he only pulled him into a hug, holding him there. Carl both wanted to push his dad off of him and hug his dad harder at the same time.

"I know," Rick whispered. "I know."

Carl pulled away and looked up at his dad, who seemed melancholy but impossibly calm. "Why aren't you angry?"

"I am. Carl…I promise you, I am."

"Then act like it!"

"I can't right now," Rick replied, voice shaking with frustration. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I gotta keep it together, not just for you, but everyone else."

Carl scowled at his dad, his breathing still rough but starting to slow down. He knew he wasn't really angry at Rick, knew he was lashing out like Harry had with Sirius after the attack in block D. The anger was still there, though, even after taking a million swings at the trash can, and he knew it was just going to be with him for a little while until he was able to accept what happened. And the fact that he understood this, was familiar with how this process worked because he'd experienced it before, only made him sadder.

Because he knew this wouldn't be the last time.

Carl turned away, choking against a fresh sob, shaking his head. His dad gave him space while he wept. Calmness slowly began to make its way through him, his crying quiet, unlike ten minutes ago, his emotions less intense.

After a few minutes, Carl turned back around to face his dad. "Did her dying have anything to do with the thing in the sky?"

The ominous skull and snake image in the sky had disappeared shortly before Daryl's group returned. Carl nor Rick had seen anything happen around them to make it vanish.

"Bob mentioned Sirius knew what that was," Rick said slowly. "He went off to help with the meds before I could find out more."

Carl remembered what Carol had said about preparing the kids to fight wizards, presenting the idea that some of the dark wizards from Harry's world could potentially end up in their midst. That couldn't be happening, could it? The very idea made his stomach clench with anxiety. Maybe the sign in the sky was something to do with the connection between Sirius and Michonne?

Whatever it was, Carl couldn't sit here and wait to find out. He was regretting not going to investigate the image upon first seeing it. Maybe he could have saved Michonne somehow. He needed answers.

"I'm gonna go talk to Harry," he said.

Rick took a step toward him, hand held up. "I know you're eager to do something. I am too. Harry needs to heal, though. Everyone's getting their antibiotics now. Give Harry a little time to recover before asking your questions."

Carl rolled his eyes even though he agreed with his dad's point. "Fine, I'll talk to Sirius then."

Rick sighed. "Carl…"

His anger rising again, Carl said, "What? He's not sick! He can talk!"

Rick stared at him thoughtfully, his tongue sliding over his teeth. "I think it's best we give Sirius some space right now."

"Why, because he was in love with Michonne? I loved Michonne too! And I've known her longer!"

Rick put a hand over his eyes and bowed his head tiredly. "I know, I know…it's just…it's different, though, Carl. And Sirius has a temper. I don't want him taking anything out on you."

Carl scoffed. "It's not like he's gonna hurt me."

"He punched Daryl, after finding Zach and Ryan."

That shook Carl from his internal storm. "Really?"

"Mhm…and that was when it was people he didn't have such strong feelings for like Michonne."

Carl shifted on his feet. He had seen Sirius' face as he'd held up Michonne's body upon returning…how pale he was, how broken he looked. It hadn't really registered at the time, when Carl was hit with his own shock. He didn't think Sirius would hit him since he was a kid, but he did understand how it might not be fair to interrogate him right now. Sirius had also always shown himself to be a man of action, in a way that Carl sometimes guiltily wished his dad would be more sometimes as well. He knew that if Sirius knew who or what was responsible for Michonne's death, he wasn't going to sit by and ignore it. Hell, he and Sirius were probably more on the same page right now than Carl and his dad.

"Fine," Carl eventually sighed. "I'll wait to talk to either of them, but if you hear anything, you'll tell me, right?"

"Absolutely," Rick nodded.

"Okay..." Carl's legs felt heavy. He wasn't sure if from exhaustion or grief. Probably both. He sat back down on the ground, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. Rick sat next to him, exhaling heavily before putting his arm around him and pulling him close.

Another wave of tears stung Carl's eyes as he pressed his head against his father's chest.

Glenn had been stabilized and returned to a bed. Hershel said he still wasn't out of the woods just yet, but he was okay for now. Sasha was still fading in and out of consciousness, but in less danger than Glenn. Lizzie, Karen, and several others in the cell block were still alive. David and a handful of others were dead.

Harry was exhausted beyond belief. He was helping Hershel with the bodies of the dead by magically moving them. If he hadn't already spewed his guts out several times earlier, he probably would have been nauseous again. The nausea had been replaced by a pulsing headache, his fatigue at an all-time high, every limb feeling heavy. He tripped over his own feet as they dragged across the floor, following where Hershel led him to dispose of the bodies.

They were on the last one, Harry wheezing at a slow and heavy pace, blackness coming in and out of his vision. Sometimes he would stumble and have to stop for a moment to fend off the dizziness and whoever he was levitating would drop a little with his lack of focus. He was vaguely aware of Hershel glancing worriedly at him over his shoulder.

After Harry almost let the final body hit the floor, Hershel turned all the way around and stepped toward him, eyes wide with concern.

"I appreciate your efforts, but you need to lie down," he said. "I can manage the last one myself."

No, I owe you so much…

Mouth hanging open and head drooping, Harry shook his head and kept going. Hershel growled in impatience and kept moving as well. Once the body was dropped where it needed to be, Hershel waved Harry away, telling him, "Now, you skedaddle before I drag you to bed myself."

Harry nodded, turning away. After a few steps, he felt dizzy again and stopped, waiting for the blackness to leave his vision, but this time, it took all the way over, and Harry, too tired to fight it anymore, let it take him with it.

Daryl had arrived to block A and immediately sought Hershel out, finding him on the floor behind the staircase with an unconscious Harry, who seemed to be choking. Daryl stared for a moment, slowly setting down the bags.

"What's going on?" he asked with some trepidation.

"He passed out, can't breathe on his own right now," Hershel replied distractedly. He glanced up after a moment, eyes landing on the bags Daryl had set down before darting up to Daryl with a hesitant hope. "You got everything?"

"Yeah," said Daryl. "What you want me to do?"

Hershel looked back to the gasping, wheezing Harry, whose lips were becoming pale. Then he beckoned to Daryl. "You take over here so I can get this stuff distributed. All you have to do is squeeze every five or six seconds."

Daryl crouched down and took the bag, doing as Hershel instructed. "Shouldn't Harry get the first dose?"

Hershel shook his head as he stood. "Can't treat him until his breathing is under control. I'll come check on you guys shortly."

With somewhat surprising strength, Hershel hefted the bags and hurried away. Daryl exhaled nervously, looking back to Harry. "C'mon, man. Your godfather needs you." He scoffed and shook his head. "Hell, we all need ya. You're a goddamn wizard, kid. This can't be what takes you down."

Daryl heard the cell block door bang open and glanced up, looking between two of the steps of the staircase. Bob was rushing in, looking around frantically. Daryl whistled and Bob hurried over.

"What—?"

"I gotta keep working on Harry," Daryl cut him off. "Hershel's getting the meds to everyone."

Bob nodded. "I'll help him."

When Bob made to leave, Daryl said, "Hey," and stopped him. He looked closely at Bob's face, especially his eyes. The man seemed focused and determined, but Daryl had to check. "You good?"

Understanding what Daryl was asking, Bob nodded again. "Yeah, man, I ain't touched that bottle."

Daryl nodded back, holding his gaze. "Okay."

Bob took off to find Hershel and Daryl returned his attention to Harry. His breathing was already evening out, much smoother than when Daryl had first arrived. All he could think about right then was how Sirius would react if Harry died, just after the loss of Michonne. Aside from the standpoint of just not wanting to lose either Harry or Sirius because he liked them, Daryl worried about not having them to help fight off the dark wizards that had come to their world from the Wizarding World.

One thing at a time.

Hershel soon came back and took Daryl's place, saying everyone was set up with their antibiotics and he would administer Harry's next once he was well enough. Daryl was free to go. He left the cell block only to find Sirius and Tyreese hurrying his way. He quickly updated them before he headed straight for his cell, where he sat on the edge of his bed, hunched over, face in his hands, and finally let himself weep.

Sirius felt his heart pumping in anticipation as he hurried to cell block A, Tyreese hot on his heels. They had just lay Michonne's body in her bed, Sirius unable to help pulling the sheet up to just under her chin. He gave himself a quick moment to stare at her one more time before he leaned over to kiss her on the forehead and then left her cell with Tyreese.

I'll be back.

Daryl had gone ahead of them to start distributing the antibiotics as soon as possible, so he was already there when Sirius and Tyreese all but jogged up to the cell block door. Daryl was coming out of the door just as they reached it, and he held up a hand to stop them, shutting the door behind him.

Before either Sirius or Tyreese could say anything, Daryl said, "They're alive—Harry, Sasha, Karen. Hershel and Bob are getting everyone their meds now. Just…" Daryl's lips pursed as he seemed to choose his words, his eyes darting between them.

"Spit it out, mate," Sirius pleaded.

"Harry's unconscious, trouble breathing. Hershel's pumping air into him now with an intubation bag."

"A what?" Sirius rushed past Daryl, flinging open the door and running inside. "Hershel? Hershel!"

"Here," Hershel called from behind the staircase. Sirius moved around it to see Harry and Hershel on the floor, Hershel kneeling over Harry, who was unconscious, mouth open with some kind of tube going down his throat. The tube was attached to a bag held by Hershel, who squeezed the bag at intervals.

Sirius dropped to his knees, hands hovering over his godson, wanting to do something but not knowing what. "What's going on? Is he okay?"

"He's having trouble breathing on his own," Hershel muttered. "I just gotta get him stable and then I can administer the medicine to him."

"But he'll be okay?" Sirius asked urgently.

Hershel was quiet for a moment as he squeezed the bag, watching Harry closely. "Damn right he will be."

Sirius clenched his teeth and nodded, clutching Harry's limp hand and holding it between both of his. "That's right."

Hold on, Harry. You hold the fuck on.

Tired, tired, tired…voices, distant…mattress beneath back and pillow beneath head feel like Heaven…warm fingers softly stroking forehead are comforting…

Harry groaned, shifting his aching body as his senses began to absorb his surroundings. He felt a mild tug in the crook of his arm as he moved it. The fingers on his forehead moved to the arm, pressing down gently.

"Shh…" a familiar voice said. "It's okay. You were dehydrated and needed something called an IV. You need to keep your arm still."

That sounded like Sirius. But Sirius was away, on a trip. Harry opened his eyes slowly, grateful that there wasn't too much light around him. He looked to his left and, sure enough, his godfather was kneeling on the floor next to him. Sirius huffed the smallest of laughs, his smile coming up to reach his eyes, which were red-rimmed and more shadowed than usual. The smile was genuine, though, whatever else was going on.

"You know, there are more merciful ways to kill me than trying to give me a damn heart attack all the time," Sirius grinned.

Squinting as he still adjusted to his eyes being open, Harry lifted his head up from the pillow to look around. He was back in the same cell he had been in earlier when Hershel had been tending to him. There was a lax hum of conversation taking place from outside his cell. A needle was in the crook of his arm, attached to a narrow tube and a plastic bag full of fluids.

"You…" he croaked, his throat still incredibly dry. "You got the medicine?"

"Of course I did." Sirius replied haughtily. "Did you doubt me?"

"No." Harry let his head fall back against the pillow. He was still so tired, but his throat felt way less scratchy and irritated, his lungs felt clearer, and breathing was much easier. His aches were reduced to minor body aches, no pounding headache, no nausea either. "How long have I been out?"

"Mmm, think about nine, ten hours."

Harry sat up all the way. "How's everyone else? Sasha, Glenn?"

"They're all right, doing much better. Sasha's already left A and is walking around. Glenn is still rather weak, but he's been awake a few hours now. Maggie's with him."

"But I thought Maggie—you shouldn't be in here either. We—"

"Hershel says we should be fine around you now that you lot have been receiving treatment."

"Oh…" The relief at such a simple idea rolled over Harry slowly, like waking up and processing that a nightmare hadn't been real. The last he remembered, people had been dropping dead left and right, some of them reanimating before their fate was realized by Hershel or anyone else. Now it was all over? Just like that?

Hershel peered in from the cell door and smirked satisfactorily. "You're awake. About time."

Sirius stood with a groan and stepped back to allow Hershel to approach Harry. Harry watched his godfather with a frown for a moment, wondering how long he had been on the floor like that, before turning his attention to Hershel.

"Why was I out so long compared to the others?" he asked, suddenly feeling like he was back in Third Year and fainting in the presence of Dementors when everyone else just got a little uncomfortable.

Hershel looked at Harry's IV bag before crouching next to him and raising his eyebrows at him reproachfully. "Because you pushed yourself too damn much. I've been on this earth long enough to know how to handle situations without magic. You should have let me."

Harry looked away as a somewhat shameful flush crept up his neck. "I wasn't trying to be a pain," he muttered. "I just…sorry…"

Hershel's features softened. "It's all right. Like I said," he glanced over his shoulder to where Sirius stood with his arms crossed before looking back at Harry with a twinkle in his eye. "Probably better you than your godfather. I can only imagine what a pain he would have been."

"Hey…" Sirius growled playfully.

Hershel chuckled. "That man hasn't left your side since he got back. I tried to get him to take a break to at least go shower, but…" Hershel shook his head in a mockingly disappointed way. "Sorry you had to wake up to that body odor."

"I still smell better than Daryl," Sirius muttered petulantly.

Harry let out a soft laugh, relishing the fact that doing so didn't irritate his throat and that he hadn't had to cough once since waking up. He shifted somewhat restlessly, his limbs feeling stiff. The longer he was awake, the more rejuvenated he felt, and for the first time in days, he actually wanted to move.

"How long do I have to keep this thing in?" he asked, gesturing vaguely at the needle in his arm.

Hershel touched the back of his hand to Harry's forehead. "Think your fever's gone. Do you feel particularly warm or cold?" Harry shook his head. "That's good. That's the most important thing. How about your breathing?"

Harry experimentally took a slow, deep breath in and out. He was able to do so without strain and his airways felt unobstructed. "Feel's good."

Hershel nodded. "Sounds good too. Any other symptoms still? Nausea? Aches? Sore throat?"

"Throat and stomach feel fine. Still a bit achy, but I think that would get better if I could just walk around and stretch a little."

Hershel scrutinized him for a moment, his eyes scanning him carefully before he released a resigned exhale. "All right. I'll go ahead and remove it. You've had your dose of medicine, but you still need to take it easy, understand?" Harry nodded vigorously. "I can't be anymore serious about this, Harry. If you try to do too much too soon, you'll put yourself right back in this bed. Don't be on your feet too long. Take breaks to sit down. And—" Hershel reached for a fresh water bottle that he'd brought with him and handed it to Harry. "Keep this on you and stay hydrated. Believe it or not, keeping your fluids up is half the battle. I want you drinking at least once every ten minutes." He gave him another sharp stare. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir, I do," Harry replied with earnest respect, the way he would if speaking to Dumbledore or McGonagall.

Hershel nodded. He carefully removed the IV and gathered everything up. Then he looked over at Sirius. "And you…take a shower and take a nap." He said it teasingly, but he put a hand on Sirius' shoulder and frowned at him somewhat sympathetically.

Sirius looked away with a visible tightness to his jaw, his eyes hard. He cleared his throat. "Thank you for…" he gestured at Harry before sighing, "everything."

Keeping his eyes on Sirius, Hershel murmured, "Get some rest, son," before removing his hand and leaving the cell.

Harry slowly stood, grunting as he stretched his legs. He reached his arms up and out, extending them and arching his back, eliciting more noises of contentment and relief as his body started to finally feel like his own again.

Sirius snorted in amusement. "You're starting to sound like me now."

Harry bent forward and tilted his back at different angles, grumbling, "So long as I don't look like you."

Sirius laughed. "No, you look like James, which is worse. If you'd gotten your mother's looks, then maybe you could talk."

Harry mockingly scowled at his godfather as he straightened up. The corner of Sirius' lip quirked upward, but Harry couldn't help noticing the exhaustion behind his eyes. "Did, er, did the trip go okay?"

Sirius held his gaze briefly before looking away and waving a dismissive hand. "Piece of cake."

Harry frowned, sure that Sirius wasn't being truthful, but not knowing why. He opened his mouth to speak, but Sirius beat him to it.

"Think I will go wash up now, maybe shut my eyes a bit. You go on and walk around, maybe get out in the sun and fresh air. It's nice out. Just make sure to listen to what Hershel said, all right?"

"I…yeah, all right."

Sirius smiled somewhat stiffly at him and left the cell. Harry stood there for a moment, a feeling that something wasn't right gnawing at him, but he wasn't about to stop his godfather from resting after having spent several uncomfortable hours on the floor by him waiting for him to wake up, and he was anxious to move around and see people. Going outside as Sirius suggested sounded great as well.

For now, Harry would just focus on feeling better and how ridiculously exciting that was.

After a few hours of everyone being supplied with antibiotics, Hershel had told everyone that those who had been infected should be safe enough to be around now. Maggie had left isolation to see Glenn, who had apparently been in rough shape, which meant that Judith was free as well.

Carl had taken his baby sister and clung to her like a lifeline, carrying her to his cell and simply holding her as he sat on the edge of his bed, tears of both grief for Michonne and appreciation for Judith quietly rolling down his cheeks.

He still had his sister, his source of hope. She was so precious and important, more so than anyone else here, maybe even his dad. Without her, Carl wasn't sure if he could go on. After a while, Judith had fallen asleep in Carl's arms, and Carl himself had started finding his own eyelids getting heavy. He'd lain down in his bed and carefully cradled Judith against his chest, making sure she was between him and the wall so that she couldn't fall. He was asleep before he knew it.

When he woke, Judith was stirring softly. Carl sat up, yawning, and saw that his sister's crib had been brought to his cell, probably by his father or Beth. He picked Judith up and placed her in the crib, where she started fussing somewhat.

"I'll be right back," Carl whispered to her.

He knew Judith well enough by now to know she was most likely hungry, so he left to seek out some food. He paused briefly as he passed Michonne's cell, where he knew her body still lay, waiting to be buried. A blanket was over the door and the bars, so he couldn't see inside unless he chose to.

He took a deep breath. This might be the only chance he would get to have a final moment with Michonne without anyone else around. Trembling slightly, he held the blanket aside and opened the door to go in.

Carl stepped slowly toward the bed, where the only visible part of Michonne was her head, poking out from beneath the bedsheet that had been pulled over her. She could almost be sleeping. Carl swallowed as he stared at her face, unblemished and peaceful. He dropped to his knees on the floor beside her and hesitated before pulling the sheet down enough to pull her arm out. He expected it to be cold to the touch, but it somehow still held a tinge of warmth to it. He thought, somewhat wryly, that he shouldn't have been surprised. Michonne had always carried warmth with her.

His throat ached with another pull of sadness and he sniffed in an attempt to keep it down. He then wrapped his arm around hers and took hold of her hand, squeezing it tightly against the limpness.

"Thank you for always bringing me comic books," Carl whispered. "Thank you for…for making me laugh, and for getting my dad, and even Daryl, to lighten up. For being my—" he sniffed as he choked back another sob. "For being my friend, and for giving me comfort. Thank you for…" he inhaled sharply and exhaled deeply, shakily, his eyes tearing up again against his will and his voice coming out as a waver. "…when you first brought Judith's formula, when you didn't even know her or any of us…thank you for…for taking that chance. And thank you for—" he hiccupped, squeezing his eyes shut and pulling Michonne's hand to his chest. "For getting that picture of my mom and I. You ris…you risked a lot just to do that. You hardly knew me and you knew how much that would me-mean to me. And I was being such a distrusting snot to you. But you did it anyway…"

Carl heaved another sob and leaned his head down against Michonne's shoulder, imagining her arm circling around him to pull him closer like she would have done if she'd been alive. The thought only made him cry harder.

He stayed there with her for a few minutes before getting up and drying his eyes. He knew he still had to get something to eat for Judith and couldn't leave her waiting too long. He just wanted to make sure he got to say his goodbye to Michonne while he had the chance.

He gave her one last look and turned away.

Having just left block A for the first time in several hours, Sirius stopped at his and Harry's cell for a change of clothes and then made his way to the showers. He was full of both immense joy and grief at the same time, for Harry being okay and for Michonne being dead, and it was draining him. It didn't help that he hadn't slept since the night before arriving to the veterinary college, when he and Tyreese had spoken of justice and revenge, when Sirius had dared to think about something as simple and pleasant as taking his godson on a camping trip. His thoughts were a scrambled mess and his back ached from both being in a car and then on the floor of a cell for so long. The idea of warm water pounding against his skull and muscles was enticing right now.

He hesitated as he was about to pass Michonne's cell, knowing she still lay there waiting for him to bury her and put her to rest.

I just need a little time to pull myself together first.

Sirius was about to just plow past the cell without so much as glancing at it when he saw Carl emerge from it, wiping at a wet face and sniffling. The kid immediately turned red when he spotted Sirius there and cleared his throat, averting his eyes.

"I was just…I wanted to—"

"I know," Sirius murmured.

Carl nodded. Sirius experienced another tug at his heart as he realized how much Carl must be hurting too. He knew that Carl and Michonne were rather close, that Michonne had probably been somewhat of a mother figure after Carl had lost his own mum.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something consoling, but coming up short. He could hardly string two thoughts together right now, and since he knew nothing anyone said could make him feel better, he was sure the same would be true for Carl, and that anything Sirius tried to say would just come up empty.

"I'm sorry," Sirius said quietly.

Carl appraised him before replying, "Me too."

Not knowing where to go from there, Sirius changed the subject. "Harry's doing better. He had a close call just before we got back, but he's had his antibiotics and a good amount of sleep. He'll probably come find you soon."

The corners of Carl's mouth lifted into a strained but still clearly authentic smile. "I'm glad."

Sirius shifted on his feet before taking a step forward. "Listen, I…can you do me a favor? I'm going to tell Harry what happened." He nodded unnecessarily at Michonne's cell. "Just…can you avoid saying anything to him about it for now? Please?"

Carl's brow furrowed. "Why?"

Sirius sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Because Harry's too sharp for his own good. He'll ask questions. And I'm pretty sure I know how Michonne died, and, well…that will stress him out quite a bit. I don't want to put that on him so soon after he's woken up and gotten back on his feet. I want him to have a chance to recover a bit more first."

Carl stared at him, hard, and Sirius realized with a sort of bitter amusement that he was also as sharp as Harry, and that Sirius should have expected as much considering the friendship that had evolved between the two boys. "Are there…bad wizards here?"

Sirius hesitated. Carl was a little younger than Harry, but he had been through just as much, had even killed another person, and was no kid that could be placated with bullshit. He had, as far as Sirius was concerned, earned the right to the truth. He wasn't Sirius' kid, though, like Harry was in all but blood. One of Carl's parents was alive and present. Sirius wasn't sure it was his place to tell Carl the truth.

But it seemed Carl had already reached the conclusion on his own. So, steeling himself and maintaining a hushed voice, Sirius said, "Yes."

Carl visibly paled, but nodded. His eyes held both fear and acceptance at the same time, and Sirius couldn't help respecting the kid even more.

"Listen," Sirius said. "Daryl, Hershel, Tyreese, and Bob already know. I'm going to make sure your dad and everyone else does too. Just…I want to wait until after Michonne is buried and Harry has gotten some of his strength back."

"I understand," Carl said. "So then…you're saying that dark wizards did this to Michonne?"

Sirius had no energy to restrain the cutting edge to his voice. "Yes. And I'm so sorry, Carl. I'm sorry we brought this on you. I promise, though…I promise they'll pay for this. I swear on my life."

Carl closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again and catching Sirius' gaze, his eyes too dark for someone so young. "You better."

A green skull and snake appeared in the sky, just above the prison yard. The Dark Mark, Sirius had called it. Daryl raced toward it, knowing now that it was a bad omen. He hurried through the courtyard and the gates and the grass until he saw the body lying there. Merle.

This confused him, though. He already knew Merle was dead. Merle had died by the Governor's hand, not that of dark wizards. Before Daryl could get enough of a grip to understand anything, Merle's body rose to its feet. Daryl clenched his crossbow with dread, not wanting to have to put his own brother down, not again.

But his brother looked at him with human eyes, eyes that hadn't been fogged over the way they did when someone turned. He walked toward Daryl, lip curled.

"All that hoopla over giving her up to the Gov and she died anyway, didn't she, brother?" Merle said.

Daryl took a step back, shaking his head. "It was still worth it."

"Worth it?" Merle repeated angrily, his face contorting with rage. "I died for nothing! Now you got big bad wizards knockin' on your door and ol' Merle ain't there to protect ya!"

"It wasn't for nothing," Daryl argued, still stepping backward as his brother continued stepping toward him. "Michonne deserved that time. And you still helped give the rest of us a chance."

Merle stopped and stood where he was, looking down at the grass and shrugging his shoulders dramatically. "Don't matter now."

Daryl froze as well. "Why?"

Merle laughed derisively, looking back up at Daryl with a savage sorrow. "What are y'all gonna do against folks that can do magic?"

"We don't gotta worry about doin' anything yet. They killed Michonne outside the prison. If they wanted to kill the rest of us, they'd have done so already."

Merle shook his head. "They were warning you, little brother. You got people they want. They're just waiting for the right time to strike."

"So we're just supposed to kick Sirius and Harry out over an assumption?" Daryl asked incredulously, his temper rising. "We wouldn't do that to anyone else here. We can't do that to them either. It wasn't right to do then with Michonne and it ain't right to do now."

Merle sighed, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans and gazing at Daryl with pity. "Then I hope y'all are ready to lose…well…everything."

Daryl woke with a gasp, sitting up and breathing heavily. He was in his cell, having fallen asleep some time ago without realizing it, his body and brain finally giving in to the exhaustion of the last few days.

Even knowing his dream wasn't real, Daryl was still tense with anxiety. He wondered if he should take any of it seriously, knowing it was ultimately just his subconscious projecting the worry and stress currently plaguing him. But feelings weren't facts. He needed to chill out.

He tried to remind himself of everything that he knew was going on. They had brought back the antibiotics. A handful of people had died from the sickness while they were gone. The ones who hadn't had been administered medicine successfully. Harry was the only one who had still been up in the air when Daryl had left block A, but Hershel seemed to think he would be okay. Michonne was dead. All evidence pointed to her being killed by dark wizards. Sirius nor anyone else had seen or spoken to any dark wizards in person, though. If they had killed Michonne outside of the prison and had not made any direct contact with anyone there, it was quite probable that they were too afraid to approach the prison. After all, Daryl and Sirius had only seen three sets of footprints in that clearing. By now, any of them could have died, but even if not, three versus over thirty was a considerable disadvantage, wizards or not. At the prison, they had fences, they had walls, they had long-range sight of anyone approaching, they had plenty of guns and ammo. There was a lot that three wizards could do, sure, but it was still very easy for them to get shot if anyone saw them coming.

Daryl scrubbed a hand over his face and exhaled. He needed to keep a cool head on his shoulders, and jumping to the worst conclusions possible was definitely not the way to do so. He decided to get up and get moving, find something useful to do.

He knew he needed to come clean to everyone else about the proof that Michonne had been killed by wizards. Everyone needed to be ready in case something did happen. He wasn't sure how long he had been asleep or if Sirius, Tyreese, or Bob had beaten him to the punch by now, but he needed to get all that sorted out.

First, he decided to find Sirius. Sirius, obviously, was the one who knew about the Dark Mark and the wizards responsible for it, and he was the one who had been keeping the potential discovery of their footprints secret with him. They needed to get all their information together, figure out what to say, and get on the same page.

Plus, Daryl needed to make sure Harry was okay, not just because he cared about the kid, but because if Harry hadn't made it, he knew Sirius would not be stable enough to be of any help.

He made his way to Sirius and Harry's cell, where he found Sirius in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Daryl cleared his throat to announce his presence before asking, "Did you get any sleep?"

Sitting up and leaning against the wall, Sirius replied, "A couple hours. Couldn't get back to it, though."

Daryl understood what he meant. "You're back here. Must mean Harry's okay?"

Sirius nodded, closing his eyes. "He should be up and about somewhere."

Daryl nodded too, appraising his friend, whose mind was clearly too distant to notice. "Listen…we gotta talk about what to do, what to tell people."

"I know," Sirius said tiredly, focusing on Daryl with eyes that were both sad and alert. "I've told Tyreese, Hershel, and Bob to keep quiet for now. Carl too." When Daryl raised a brow at him, Sirius explained, "Ran into Carl, and Carl guessed what was going on."

"Well how long you wanna keep it quiet for? Don'tcha think they might do something else?"

Sirius was quiet for a moment before replying, "Probably. But I can't have Harry knowing, not yet. That kind of stress…Harry will put it all on himself. I just want at least another few hours or so for him to have recovered somewhat. If his flu symptoms worsen again while we're out there—"

"Out where?" Daryl interrupted.

Sirius rolled his eyes at him. "Obviously we have to leave once everyone knows. It's not fair of us to endanger you lot because of people from our world. I'd just like…I'd just like to make sure Harry is strong enough first, and I'd like to give Michonne a proper burial myself. After that, I'll make sure we're out of your hair."

Daryl frowned at his friend, who was staring absently at the wall across from him. "We ain't kickin' you out."

Sirius made a sound of disbelief, almost like a laugh. "You might not be. Everyone else will. Even if they don't, it would be wrong for us to stay here."

Daryl shook his head at him and moved over to Harry's empty bed, sitting on the edge of it to face Sirius. "Man…that ain't right. Ya can't just sacrifice yourselves for us."

"It's our problem, not yours."

That actually struck a nerve with Daryl, anger flaring in his chest. "The hell does that even mean? You suddenly ain't one of us now? You gonna up and leave like you haven't been part of this community for over a month?"

Sirius bowed his head slightly, eyes boring into Daryl's almost as if irritated. "You know that's not how it is. You've all been through enough without our baggage."

Daryl stared back at him, chewing absently at his thumbnail. "Remember how I told you my brother was with the Governor? Got killed by him?"

"Yeah, you said he ambushed him and his people."

Daryl nodded. "Yeah…but there was more to it than that. See, the Governor wanted us gone, but he really wanted Michonne dead. Said if we gave her up, he'd leave us and the prison alone. 'Course, we couldn't know how genuine an offer it was, but we didn't really know Michonne then. She had shown up at our gates with the formula for Judith that Glenn and Maggie had dropped when my brother kidnapped them on a run, before Merle left the Governor for us. She had just come from Woodbury, the Governor's community, so she was suspicious of us, and we were suspicious of her. Still…by the time we got that offer, she'd helped us a lot, shown she was ready to become one of us." Daryl looked down at the floor and sighed, rubbing at the back of his head. "Rick only told some of us about the deal. He decided it was probably best to go along with it, and I…I agreed with him." Ashamed, Daryl averted his eyes, casting them somewhere off to the side, not wanting to see Sirius' revulsion. "Rick didn't think he had the heart to follow through with it, though. Told Merle about it. Merle agreed to do the 'dirty work.' Rick and the rest of us who knew changed our minds, decided we couldn't let it happen, but Merle had already taken off with Michonne before we could stop him. I went after them, crossed Michonne by herself, safe and sound, on her way back to the prison. Said Merle had a change of heart and let her go. I tracked Merle and found him…well…" Daryl coughed roughly, giving himself a moment before finally looking back at Sirius, who looked back at him with a solemn, grave sort of understanding. "My brother was a piece of shit, but I can't tell ya how much I appreciate him for letting Michonne go. Think the rest of us would've been haunted by that for the rest of our lives if she'd gotten back in the Governor's hands."

Sirius exhaled sharply through his nose, keeping his focus on Daryl before looking off to the side. He seemed to be thinking things over. "Fine…say we'll stay, at least for now. I still want to delay telling Harry." He looked back at Daryl, eyes wide with urgency. "He will without a doubt take it upon himself to put a stop to it. He'll sneak away alone to find them and turn himself over if we don't have a plan in place."

Daryl believed it, nodding. "All right. I'll talk to Rick and everyone on the Council, make sure nothing's shared yet that don't need to be." He stood, ready to go find Rick or Carol or whoever he could right away. "Look at me." Sirius did so reluctantly, eyebrows raised like a fed up teenager's, but Daryl knew the look was an attempt to appear unbothered, a defense mechanism. "We'll work it out however we half to without giving anybody up. That ain't how it works around here."

He left without giving Sirius another chance to say anything and started to head to block A. He hadn't been aware that Hershel had known about the situation, realizing Sirius must have told him at some point while he waited for Harry to wake. While, in general, Daryl trusted Rick and Carol more than anyone else, he knew Hershel was the most likely to be merciful, to be against turning Sirius and Harry away. He wanted to ask his opinion on how they should proceed.

He found Hershel sitting on the bed of an empty cell in block A, hunched over with his forehead held in his hands. Frowning, Daryl asked, "You all right?"

Hershel startled slightly but immediately forced a smile as he realized someone was there. There was a glossiness to his eyes, though, that told Daryl the man had been crying. He felt a pang of appreciation and sympathy for him, thinking about how much Hershel must have been through the last couple days, how much he'd had to deal with alone.

"Did the others tell you about the plan for Spaghetti Tuesdays?" Hershel said innocently.

Daryl stared at him. "What?"

"Me, Sasha, and Glenn decided to implement Spaghetti Tuesdays from this moment on. So I'm gonna need you to head back out there and find us some pasta."

Understanding that Hershel was trying to lighten the mood, Daryl shook his head with a quiet laugh. "You're one tough son-of-a-bitch, you know that?"

Hershel smiled sadly as his features turned solemn. "I'm sorry about Michonne."

Daryl looked at the floor. "Yeah…"

"Has Sirius buried her yet?"

"Nah."

Hershel nodded, more to himself than Daryl. "I think he may need a hand."

"Wait," Daryl said as Hershel stood. "You uh…you know how she died, right? Least…how we're pretty sure she died…"

"Yes, Sirius informed me. I don't think anyone else who doesn't know should know yet. That man and that boy have been through the mill. We don't need folks losing their heads and trying to send them away."

"We gotta tell people soon," Daryl disagreed. "We gotta make sure a plan's in place case somethin' happens."

"Yes…" Hershel looked away thoughtfully. Daryl could see the tired lines on his face. "I don't think this should be a group discussion. We tell people one at a time to eliminate a mob mentality."

"All right…so you think it's okay I tell Rick and Carol?"

Hershel's eyes snapped to Daryl's apprehensively. He was still and quiet for a moment before replying, "Give me a half hour to help Sirius bury Michonne. I'll bring the truck to one of the side doors so she can be taken somewhere discreetly. I know a place just inside the woods that I think would be nice for her. You can tell Rick and Carol once you see us driving off, so we can keep Sirius out of any crossfire with them. I think he'll be in a better state of mind once that's done. Then we can have a meeting—the rest of the Council, Rick, Sirius—and discuss everything. People are still weak from being sick. We can't expect them to react rationally, so we get organized as leaders first and then deliver the news once a plan is in place to reassure them."

Daryl thought that all through before nodding. "All right."

Hershel offered him another wan smile before clapping a hand on Daryl's shoulder and leaving to look for Sirius. Daryl left A and went to his own cell, where he waited until he heard the unmistakable sound of Sirius retrieving Michonne's body. Once the sound of the cell block door closing reached his ears, Daryl waited a few minutes before heading to the same side door Sirius had used and poking his head out, seeing the truck pulling up to the woods and parking. From there, he returned inside and began to look for Rick or Carol.

As his search went on for some time without sight of either of them, it occurred to Daryl that he hadn't seen Carol at all since returning from the run. It set off another alarm bell in him even though he had no reason to be worried about her. He had been in block A, so he would have known if she was sick. Otherwise, unless she'd fallen and hit her head or something, she should be fine.

Daryl eventually found Rick outside with Carl, where they were back to working on their crops. He guessed that Rick was probably trying to give Carl something normal to do to distract him from his grief over Michonne. Daryl stood before them for a moment, remembering Sirius saying that Carl knew about there being dark wizards, but Daryl still didn't want to put any more worry on his shoulders than necessary by involving him in the conversation.

"Need your help with somethin'," Daryl said, pointedly keeping his eyes on Rick and jerking his head back to the building. Rick maintained eye contact for a moment, reading him, before looking away and nodding slowly, setting his tools down in the soil.

Rick tapped the rim of Carl's hat as he passed him and gave him a wink and a relaxed, "Be right back."

Daryl and Rick both stayed quiet as they walked until there was a large amount of distance between themselves and Carl, Rick breaking the silence first.

"So what do you need 'help' with?" he asked, looking at Daryl in a way that indicated he knew Daryl just wanted a private conversation.

Daryl looked around as they passed through the courtyard. Tyreese was sitting at a table with Sasha, Karen, and a few of the other people who had been sick, Tyreese looking happier than ever. Sasha and Karen both looked tired, but content.

"Let's go to the tombs," Daryl mumbled, knowing there probably wasn't anyone there.

Once they were inside, in a hallway that was far enough from the cells Zach and Ryan had stayed in, Daryl faced Rick, finding himself somewhat nervous.

"You saw that thing in the sky?" he started.

"Yeah. I'm assuming that had something to do with Michonne's death? It only went away a few minutes before you guys got back."

"Yeah," Daryl nodded, biting at his thumbnail again. "Sirius made it disappear. It's, um..." Daryl glanced around at the walls for a moment as he thought through his delivery. Rick was leaning his head forward expectantly, eyes wide with anticipation. "Right, so…that was the symbol of the dark wizards from Sirius and Harry's world. Guess they leave it in places where they've killed someone. Michonne…her body was right under it."

Rick took a step back, one hand on his hip while the other one went over his mouth, his thumb and fingers absently stroking at his jaw. He blinked a few times before speaking. "So…dark wizards killed her?"

"Mhm. Her body ain't got a single mark on her, from Walker or human. Sirius said that their Killing Curse leaves no trace."

Rick brought both hands up to his face, clasping them over his nose and between his eyes so that his fingertips pressed right between his eyebrows. He laughed hollowly.

Daryl continued. "Back when Sirius and I went to the clearing he and Harry had shown up in, we found evidence that other wizards might have come here. There were unusual footprints, and a tree had a chunk blown out of it that didn't look like it could have happened without magic. We followed the trail till it went cold, a few miles in the opposite direction. Since the evidence wasn't exactly concrete and the prints led away from the prison anyway, we thought it best not to jump to conclusions and put people in a panic. Now…" Daryl exhaled sharply. "Now it looks like they're definitely here."

Rick crossed his arms, tilting his head up slightly as he looked at Daryl with a restrained incredulity. "You knew this might be a problem and you didn't say anything?"

"The evidence was half-baked at best, man. We already got Walkers and regular-ass psychos out there for everyone to be scared of. I didn't want to add psychos that can do deadly magic if I didn't need to."

Rick blew out a scandalized huff and turned away, shaking his head, both hands back to his hips now. When he turned back to Daryl, he pointed a finger at him. "That kind of thing isn't up to you to decide on your own. That's why we have a Council now."

He was staring at Daryl with nothing but cross disappointment that only intensified Daryl's guilt, but Daryl stood his ground. "You're right…I'm sorry. I'm telling you now, though, so that we can come up with a gameplan. Which reminds me…I've seen everyone on the Council with my own eyes but Carol since we got back. Is she all right?"

Rick's expression soured. He looked away from Daryl and licked his lips. "She's…she's all right, but she's not here."

Now Daryl's heart started pounding. "What the hell does that mean?"

Rick was clearly bracing himself in some sort of way, as if he had been caught doing something wrong but had no intention of apologizing. He straightened up and held Daryl's gaze with a wary determination. "She killed Zach and Ryan…I sent her away."

Daryl stared at his friend, wondering if he'd heard correctly. "What…?"

"I figured it out. There were subtle hints with the way she was talking and acting. I…I realized there was nothing she wouldn't do for what she believed to be the good of the group, and she…admitted to it."

Daryl put his hands on his head and turned away with a pained growl. His breathing picked up as he tried to process Rick's news, unable to believe Carol would go that far. He paced for a moment before turning back on Rick.

"You couldn't have waited till we got back?" he breathed angrily.

"She killed two of our own!" Rick hissed. "She couldn't be here!"

Daryl glared at his friend, no longer feeling bad about not confiding in him. He pointed a finger at him and spat, "That kind of thing ain't up to you to decide on your own."

Rick pursed his lips to conceal a wince as Daryl threw his own words back at him. He looked off to the side for a moment and then nodded. "I deserve that. You're right. I'm a hypocrite. I still stand by the decision, though."

"Were you even gonna tell me yourself, without me askin' after her?"

"Of course I was. I just wanted to let you rest and take some time to yourself first. I didn't wanna pile the news on top of losing Michonne. And I still thought you were sleeping until you came out to get me just now."

Daryl looked away with a scoff, shaking his head as he tried to contain himself.

"She's gonna be all right," Rick went on. From his tone, Daryl couldn't tell if he was trying to convince Daryl or himself more. "She has a car, supplies, weapons. She…she's a survivor."

Fuming now, Daryl instantly closed the space between them with a furious step forward. "Stop saying that like you don't believe it!"

Rick stared at him, taken aback, but he had the good grace to shut up. Daryl turned away and began pacing again, trying to wrap his mind around everything. He was so disappointed, even heartbroken, to learn that Carol had done this. He wanted to find her, shake her, and ask what the hell she was thinking.

But he knew what she was thinking. She didn't want Lizzie and Mika getting sick because of their dad, and she didn't want Beth, Carl, or Harry to get sick because of Zach. She didn't want what they had to spread and kill even more people. She didn't want to lie awake at night if such a thing happened, wondering if she could have done something to prevent it. She wanted to minimize whatever damage she could, because she knew how much damage one, let alone two people, could cause, even if they didn't mean to. He knew her enough to understand her line of thinking, but he also knew her enough to know that she wasn't coldblooded, not at her core. And what she'd done…there was no other way to describe it. It was coldblooded.

As if reading Daryl's internal struggle, Rick braved another chance at speaking his piece. "She did it. She said it was for us. That's how it was in her head. She wasn't sorry."

Daryl moved back toward Rick impatiently, getting in his face again. "Man, that's her…but that ain't her."

He didn't know how else to explain it out loud, and he continued to stare hard at Rick, willing him to understand that this one act, as heinous as it was, didn't render Carol deserving of being banished, that it didn't define who Carol was.

He turned and resumed pacing. Too many things were going on right now, and he was disheartened by how Rick had handled learning what Carol did, especially after Daryl had just told Sirius he wouldn't let anyone turn him and Harry away. Daryl argued to himself that it was a different situation. Sirius and Harry hadn't intentionally harmed anyone like Carol had, and Rick had exiled Carol because, in his logic, she was unsafe to have around.

Would he see Sirius and Harry being here as making their community unsafe as well? Even if they weren't actually doing anything to hurt anyone?

If it hadn't already crossed Rick's mind, Daryl didn't want his thoughts to go there now, so he changed the subject, taking a harried breath and asking, "What are we supposed to do about Lizzie and Mika?"

"I told her we'd look after 'em," Rick answered somewhat tentatively.

Daryl moved over toward the wall, leaning against it, pressing his head into the wall. Despite how much he'd slept after delivering the medicine to block A, he still felt exhausted.

Michonne was dead. Dark wizards were in their world. Carol, one of his best friends and sources of comfort, was the killer he had been so keen to take revenge on. Carol, one of his best friends and sources of comfort, wasn't here. On top of all that, now he had to help look after two kids that had really lost the lottery when it came to caregivers. The only bright side right now was that this goddamn flu wasn't going to be a problem anymore. It was closing in on dinnertime, meaning that the day—this incredibly long and endless and stressful day—was almost over.

Nothing else can possibly go wrong.

As if on cue, an explosion sounded somewhere above them, shaking the building so that dusty debris fell from the ceiling.

After talking to Daryl, Sirius gave up on trying to return to sleep. He stood with a sigh, rubbing his eyes forcefully. He had had his chance to rest. Now it was time to lay Michonne to rest.

First thing first, he needed to figure out where Harry was and make sure he didn't see him taking Michonne's body outside. Then he just needed to find a shovel. He was wandering outside, where he saw Tyreese, Sasha, Karen, and others at a table together, and Rick and Carl off in one of their vegetable gardens, when Hershel came out and approached him.

The old man eyed him up and down, smiling weakly. "Well…you smell better." When Sirius didn't respond, continuing to slowly walk around and scan his surroundings, Hershel sighed and went on. "I know a good place…to bury her. If you're ready."

Sirius halted, staring straight ahead of him as he sucked on his teeth. "I have to make sure Harry doesn't see."

"He's playing Uno with Bethie while she watches Judith. Think he'll be distracted for a while."

"Oh…" Sirius' stomach was suddenly full of butterflies—not the excited kind, but the nervous ones that carried dread. He couldn't move, frozen to the spot. He didn't want to do this. He wished he could just be asleep, blissfully unfeeling and unaware.

Hershel stepped in front of him, placing a gentle hand on Sirius' upper arm, his eyes kind and understanding. Too understanding, like they saw right through him.

Michonne always saw right through him.

"Hey…" Hershel said. "You don't have to do it alone. I'll go with ya. I know it's scary, that it feels so final. It's also doing both you and her a kindness. It'll bring you peace."

Sirius' breath hitched. "I…okay."

Hershel's lips pulled upward some more, though tightly and sadly. He patted Sirius' arm before removing his hand and turning to point off to the side of the building. "I'll pull one of the cars up there. You get her and we'll drive her to the spot I have in mind. It's just inside the woods, but taking the car will help keep everyone else away since they won't be able to see her inside."

Sirius nodded, swallowing, and turned away to go to Michonne's cell, almost as if hypnotized. He was both nervous and numb at the same time, moving as if someone else was steering him. When he reached her bed, he kept the sheet under her as he lifted her into his arms, bridal style, taking a moment to stare down at her face and imagine her eyes opening, no fog, all fire, her lips stretching into a deep smile that showed almost all of her teeth. She would laugh and say, "And just where do you think you're taking me? I happened to be having the best dream before you swooped me up."

Sirius couldn't help letting out a soft laugh at the thought as he, only for a moment, let himself believe that was really happening. But his small smile faded as quickly as it had come, and he felt his brows pull together as he watched her eyes stay closed, her mouth emitting no words or laughter, never to do either of those things again.

He forced his gaze away so that his feet could carry him from her cell, mercifully making their way through block C without anyone crossing their path. He reached the door to the side of the building and found Hershel sitting there with the pickup truck, the bed of which was loaded with gardening tools, including shovels. Sirius rested Michonne across the backseat before he took shotgun for himself and Hershel drove.

They were able to go around the courtyard to get through the gates, keeping a wide enough berth between them and those outside so that no one was able to call questions after them. They went down the road and stopped just at the edge of the woods. Rick and Carl were within sight, and it looked like they were both looking in their direction, but they quickly went back to work. Hershel parked the truck and beckoned for Sirius to follow him. Sirius only sat there for a second, watching him exit the truck, before glancing back at Michonne and following suit.

Hershel led him through the trees before soon stopping and stepping aside, pointing at three bushes blossoming with beautiful purple flowers. Sirius stepped toward them, unable to help his jaw slackening slightly as he looked upon them. With the heat as thick and brutal as it often was, he was amazed that flowers like these were able to thrive, no wilt to their petals or fade in their vibrant lavender hue.

"Purple daisies," Hershel said. "One of the underrepresented flowers that symbolize love. Purple flowers, in general, are often thought to symbolize deep connection and intuitive understanding." Sirius dragged his eyes away from the flowers to look at Hershel, speechless with appreciation. Hershel smiled at him, less sadly this time. "Come on, let's get to it."

They returned to the truck, where Sirius retrieved Michonne's body and Hershel grabbed the shovels. The two men began digging the grave, and Sirius' mind was full of thoughts but oddly calm. They were quiet for a while before he decided to speak some of those thoughts out loud.

"Do you think it's silly?" he asked. "That I feel so much for her when I haven't known her long?"

"You were in prison for—what…twelve years?" said Hershel. Sirius grunted affirmation. "And then on the run and in hiding for a couple more. Michonne's the first person you've had that kind of love for in a long time, so for you especially, it's going to be more meaningful."

Sirius frowned. "So you think it's just because I haven't had the chance to…get out there, I guess?"

"Not at all. Actually, with the way you described that awful place you were sent to, where you were being literally drained of happiness every day, I think it makes it more beautiful that someone brought those feelings out of you after all that. You should have come out of such a place drained dry, with nothing of yourself to offer anyone and unable to handle anything offered to you from anyone else."

Sirius paused, thinking that through. "So it was real for me then. What about for Michonne?"

Now Hershel paused. "You know…she came to me, some days before the Big Spot run." Hershel looked up from the dirt to look at Sirius. "She talked about you. She said there was something about you, the energy you gave off, how she felt in your presence, that it was pulling her in. It was something she said she didn't want to pursue. She wanted to avoid forming that kind of bond with someone. It scared her, because she didn't think she could handle having strong feelings for another person, because what if she lost them? And she also thought she was…too damaged, I think she said, to be able to properly return that kind of love, to be what someone else needed."

Sirius stared raptly at Hershel, everything inside him becoming more intense the more Hershel spoke. His mouth had gone dry but his eyes were starting to burn. He had stopped digging to give Hershel his full attention.

"But she said she felt safe around you," Hershel continued. "Not in terms of physical safety. Kind of like what I said to you about Harry, how you protect his heart. As much as she found you exciting, you also made her feel at ease, internally, in a way no one else has. She felt connected to you, as if she'd already known ya. I told her connections like that are rare, and that if she thought it could bring her happiness, it was worth pursuing, especially with the unpredictable nature of our world since the turn." Hershel nodded at the bushes. "I chose these flowers for a reason."

Sirius put his face in his hands and immediately turned away as he released a shuddering breath, overwhelmed by gratitude and grief simultaneously. Hearing that kind of confirmation was so incredibly validating and comforting. To know that he wasn't just some heartsick idiot, that it was real not just for him, but Michonne too, filled him with an otherworldly warmth. Sirius only wished there had been time for Michonne to tell him those things herself.

He turned back to the grave and continued digging, keeping his face down. Hershel, gratefully, was doing the same. After a minute, Sirius couldn't help breathing out a somewhat hesitant laugh. "That wasn't all just bullshit, right?"

Hershel chuckled in return. "I wouldn't do that to you. I swear on my daughters, and my son-in-law, and my unborn grandchild that everything I just said is true."

Sirius gripped the top of the shovel tightly and closed his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered.

After another pause, Hershel softly replied, "You're very welcome, son."

They finished digging after another couple of minutes and then, together, lifted Michonne's body, Sirius taking her arms and Hershel her legs. They carefully set her inside, both of them looking down at her briefly, and then they filled the grave.

Once she was buried all the way, Hershel let out an exhausted, "Whew," and wiped at his forehead, which was shining with sweat. He moved over to one of the bushes and began picking daisies off of them. "I'll start arranging these nicely on top and then we'll do a final prayer for her. Why don't you take the shovels back to the truck and grab us some water? I left a couple of fresh bottles in a cooler up front."

"Sure," Sirius nodded. He picked up the shovels and walked back to the truck, returning them to the bed. Then he opened the driver's side door, where he found two water bottles between the driver's seat and passenger's seat. He grabbed both of them and shut the door, pressing one of the bottles to his head and cheeks to cool himself off as he made his way back through the trees. He began unscrewing the cap of the other water bottle for Hershel as he returned to the gravesite. He opened his mouth to speak, about to ask Hershel how these flowers managed to do so well in the heat, when he saw that Hershel was standing still, facing him, hands held up in surrender.

Someone was standing behind him.

Sirius dropped the water bottles and drew his wand in a flash, snarling, "Get the hell away from him!"

There was a click that Sirius recognized as the hammer of a gun being pulled back and he had a quick glimpse of the metal barrel of a gun rise up from behind Hershel's head to come back down out of sight, the message that this was no bluff clear as day. Whoever was behind Hershel leaned to the side so that Sirius could see him.

The man was somewhat stocky in build and had brown hair that was tinged with gray, a thin layer of grayer stubble coating his jaw. But only one feature truly caught Sirius' attention.

Strapped over his right eye was a black eyepatch.

"He tried to kill me and I stabbed him in the eye."

Michonne's words echoed in Sirius' head, as did the words of everyone else who he'd heard describe the man before him, holding Hershel at gunpoint.

The Governor.

Sirius felt his hackles rise and he gripped his wand more firmly. This was the man who hurt Michonne, hurt his friends. This was the man responsible for so much pain and grief and fear among the people that Sirius had come to consider family. This was the man who wouldn't let Michonne sleep at night, who had haunted her to the point that she had to leave the safety of her community to seek him out and eliminate him. And now here he was, threatening someone else Sirius cared about.

I'm going to rip you apart.

The Governor had a hard stare for someone with only one eye. His lip curled slightly as he watched Sirius. His free hand slowly came in sight to gesture at the fresh grave.

"My condolences," he said without any remorse. The same hand then made a show of touching something at his hip, and he took a half step to his side to put himself in better view.

The sight made Sirius feel like he'd just been kicked in the gut. Michonne's sword hung from the Governor's belt.

Sirius growled. "You—"

The Governor moved himself back to being directly behind Hershel so that only slivers of him peeked out, leaving little to no target. "I've come to have a little chat," he spoke over Sirius, his voice thick with arrogance. "In the meantime, if you don't want Hershel to pay for any stupid choices you might be thinking of making, I'd keep your cool if I were you, Sirius."

Chills pricked along Sirius' arms. How does he know my name?

He grit his teeth, trying to think quickly. The most obvious thing he wanted to do was disarm the Governor, something he could easily do with magic. His biggest concern with that was that the Governor might hit the trigger on reflex at the feeling of his gun being yanked from his hand, and with how directly it was positioned behind Hershel's head, Sirius wasn't confident enough that that wouldn't happen to risk trying.

Sirius began running through things he could hit the Governor with that wouldn't also harm Hershel. Stalling, he drawled, "So go on then…chit chat away, ya ugly git. What are you here for?"

There was a pause before the Governor replied, Sirius greatly disliking being unable to see his face and how he was reacting. "Oh, we'll get to that soon…" he crooned.

Thoroughly annoyed, but trying to stay calm, Sirius refrained from losing his temper with the man, having no idea what he was on about by saying he wanted to "chat" one minute and then seemingly doing anything but that the next. Sirius really wished he could see his face.

He could see Hershel's face, though. His friend's eyes widened slightly, appearing to look past Sirius. Confused, Sirius was about to turn around when he felt a small, rounded point press into the back of his head, something that definitely wasn't a gun or a knife.

A wand.

He froze, his blood running cold when someone "tsk, tsk, tsk'ed" at him with three clicks of their tongue. A whoosh sounded right behind him and everything went black.

Harry never thought he'd be so happy to be in any other old part of the prison than block A until he went through the door and realized he had options. He could go to the tombs, he could go to the main cell block, he could go outside, the library, the cafeteria…He really didn't care where he was right now, as long as he wasn't in A and he was able to move.

He predictably made his way to block C, hoping to see what everyone who wasn't sick had been up to. He was somewhat surprised that he didn't see or hear anyone once he got there, though he supposed that made sense since there had been more people sick than not. Then again, a good portion of the people who had been quarantined, like himself, had felt well enough to leave A after the antibiotics kicked in. He didn't concern himself too much over it, automatically heading up to the balcony where his and Sirius' cell was. He was longing to get in some fresh clothes. Once he changed, he started making his way back downstairs to go outside, only to be stopped when Beth poked her head out of her cell.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, smile wide and eyes bright with glee. "You're up and about!"

"Hey!" Harry grinned back. "Yeah, feeling loads better. What are you up to?"

"I'm bored out of my mind, honestly. I've done all the chores around here that haven't been tended to, and with y'all being better and Daryl's group being back, there's not much else for me to do." She looked around somewhat sheepishly, hugging herself, and shrugged. "Wanna keep me company?"

"I—sure!" Harry's heart started racing. "Yeah, of course."

He followed Beth into her cell, sitting next to her on the edge of her bed. He suddenly wondered when Zach had last sat here.

Zach, Beth's boyfriend, is dead. Just like Cedric, Cho's boyfriend. Cedric, who had been killed right in front of Harry's eyes before Voldemort returned to his body.

Harry closed his eyes and turned his head away from Beth, hoping she hadn't seen anything weird from him. He tried to push his intrusive thoughts down. It was just difficult when he found himself in such a similar predicament as he had been in with Cho. Even if Beth was able to move past her dead boyfriend in a way that Cho hadn't, Harry didn't think he could behave in any nonplatonic way with her with Zach's death so fresh on his conscience.

He made a show of coughing and clearing his throat, even though he didn't really need to, before turning back to Beth. "Sorry, still got stuff in there." He patted his chest for unnecessary clarification. "Hey, where's Carl? Has he been okay?"

"He was napping with Judith last I saw," Beth replied. "Think he missed her while she was isolated with Maggie."

"And, er…and she's doing okay?" Harry tried to keep a conversation—a normal, harmless conversation—going for as long as he could. "Maggie, I mean. The flu didn't get to her with her pregnancy or anything?"

"Yeah, she's fine. She was just worried about Glenn."

"Right." Harry nodded, trying to think of more to say, coming up blank.

Beth seemed to appraise him for a bit before smiling knowingly. "Relax, Harry. We're just hanging out. We're friends, aren't we?"

"I…yeah, of course we are." Was he that obvious?

"I've just…I guess I've just been a little lonely." Beth shrugged and averted her eyes. "Zach's gone. Daddy's been away taking care of everyone. Maggie's been isolated."

Harry felt himself soften. This was what he had been looking for from Beth when she'd visited him while in quarantine: just some sort of sense that she was finding herself affected by things, that she was feeling human. It made him feel less alone. "Yeah, I'm sure it's been rough."

"I can't imagine how rough it was for you," she said with a nervous laugh. "Having to deal with people turning while sick as a dog." She stared off thoughtfully for a moment. "I can't imagine how rough it was for my dad, too."

"He was brilliant. He kept us all together." Harry shook his head. "I don't know how he did it, especially without magic."

Beth was looking at the floor but smiling earnestly. Harry tried not to notice how pretty she was. "He's always been like a superhero to me. You know, he was always older than all my friends' dads. They would ask me if I worried he'd die before I got married, or even graduated high school. Or they'd make comments like I must have missed out on doing certain things with him because he wasn't up for it at his age. I never saw anything that way. He always kept up with me, even led by example." Then she looked at Harry, pensive. "I'm glad you were in there with each other."

Harry couldn't hold her gaze with all of its sincerity. He cast his eyes downward. "Me too."

They were both quiet for a moment before footsteps sounded outside the cell. Carl appeared, holding Judith.

"Hey, Beth, I—" Carl froze upon noticing Harry, grinning. "Hey! Sirius said you'd be around soon. How you feeling?"

"Pretty good, just tired." Harry looked closely at his friend, noticing his eyes seemed somewhat red and puffy, but he remembered that he'd been sleeping recently, according to Beth. "How about you?"

Carl looked down at Judith, bouncing her in his arms. "Nothing new with me." He looked back up at Beth. "My dad wants my help with some farm stuff. Would you mind watching Judith?"

Beth nodded, reaching to take the baby. "Can you grab her crib?"

"Yep, be right back."

Carl left and returned with the crib before taking off again to join his dad. Beth set Judith in the crib and pulled it close to the bed so that she could be within reach while sitting down. She sighed as she leaned over, holding her hand over a cooing Judith, who was snatching at Beth's fingers like they were toys.

"Aaaand back to babysitting," Beth said with a hint of annoyance before looking at Harry with raised eyebrows. "You are staying right here and keeping me company."

Harry raised his hands in mock surrender. "Whatever you say. Shall I, er…shall I find us something to do?"

"I have a deck of Uno cards under the magazines over there if you want to grab 'em." Beth pointed with one hand while Judith held her other hand hostage.

Harry bent over the stack of magazines and lifted them until he found a small, chewed up box that said "UNO!" on it and pictured different colored and numbered cards. He brought it over to the bed, where, once Beth convinced Judith to relinquish her hand, they sat cross-legged across from each other and Beth explained the rules of the game while she shuffled the cards.

Harry had never played Uno, but the game was simple enough, and rather fun. He could see how it could easily turn cutthroat, though that wasn't a problem for him and Beth. Whenever one of them played a highly offensive "draw four" card, they both ended up laughing, throwing pretend insults at each other, bragging or complaining dramatically. They talked about different things as they played, Harry finding conversation easier now that they had something innocent to occupy themselves with and there was a baby for an audience. They passed close to three hours this way, the time going by quickly to Harry, and he couldn't remember the last time he felt so lighthearted. It was crazy to him that he'd spent the last couple days fighting for his life and the lives of those quarantined with him, that he had struggled to breathe and handle basic movements without almost passing out, but now he was playing, talking, and laughing, enjoying himself.

"And…draw two, draw two more, skip you, and Uno!" Harry said triumphantly as Beth threw her hands up in frustration, looking up at the ceiling and making a noise between growling and groaning.

"You're the worst!" she laughed.

"You hit me with three 'draw fours' last game!" Harry argued.

"That's irrelevant!"

They both dissolved into laughter for a moment before Beth gathered all of the cards together to shuffle the deck again. She had only just started dealing when a single, loud explosion sounded outside, shaking the building. They both stared at each other for a second, shocked, before jumping from the bed and hurrying outside.

People were rushing through the courtyard, calling questions to each other and hurrying toward the fences, Harry included. He saw Carl emerge from one of the vegetable gardens and Rick and Daryl came jogging over from the tombs. Harry glanced around looking for Sirius but didn't see him. He returned his gaze to the front of the prison where the source of the explosion was waiting.

Just outside the fences, a handful of pickup trucks flanked a military tank, while several people with guns stood side by side in the grass. Two people were on their knees near the center of the formation, to the right of the tank, and Harry's heart leapt into his throat when he saw that those two people were Hershel and Sirius, their hands tied behind their backs. A woman with a gun stood behind Hershel with the gun trained to his head, while a man Harry recognized as one of the Death Eaters from the Department of Mysteries stood behind Sirius, holding his wand to his head. Harry recognized the Death Eater as Augustus Rookwood, a former Unspeakable who had appeared in Harry's dreams being punished by Voldemort.

In front of the tank stood two people who appeared to be in charge, their stances authoritative. Harry sucked in a sharp intake of breath when he looked at the person on the left, a man with an eyepatch, and found that he now had a real live visual of the person everyone at the prison had been telling him about. It could be none other than the Governor.

Yet, it was the person standing alongside the Governor whose presence sent a chill down Harry's spine. Hands on her hips, chin tilted up and mouth open in a broad sneer, her tongue sitting behind her front teeth, was Bellatrix Lestrange. She lifted one hand and wiggled her fingers in a mockingly playful wave, her eyes honed in on Harry.

"Come out, come out, Potter," she sang loudly. She drew her wand and twirled it lazily in her hand for a moment before bringing it up to rest the tip over her bottom lip as she bared her teeth, the corners of her mouth curling menacingly. Even from how far away he was, Harry could see her eyes darken with a manic glint. "Come on out and play."

Author's Note:

Me: *throws a grenade and runs away*

I'M SORRY!

Just to clarify, I fucking LOVE Michonne. I got the idea of her and Sirius being together and liked that, and then I got the idea of her being killed and breaking poor Sirius' heart, and I liked that even more. Something's wrong with me.

Next chapter is going to be INTENSE. Lots of action. Probably super long. Gonna start it off with some comic relief so you get a buffer between the saddy-sad-sad and the baddy-bad-bad. It's a chapter I've been excited to write and I'm looking forward to finishing it and getting it posted.

Please let me know your thoughts on the story so far! Good or bad lol. Or any questions you have.