Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

When Rick wakes up, it’s not sudden. He doesn’t wake with a gasp and a clear head. He comes to, slowly and painfully, still half asleep. The air of the hospital room is stale, dust covers the surfaces of the white room, and the tube in his nose isn’t feeding him any oxygen, but in his state, he doesn’t notice.

“That vase, that’s something special. ‘Fess up,” he says to the hazy form of his friend, “You steal it from your Grandma Jean’s house?” Rick lets out a breathy chuckle. “I hope you left her that spoon collection.” He laughs again, only to start coughing. He struggles to breathe, his throat too dry and his lungs wheezing.

“Shane?” the weak deputy calls out when he doesn’t get an answer. Tired eyes scan the room, not finding the man he’s looking for. “Shane, you in the John?” Rick calls, his voice hoarse from disuse. Again, there’s no answer.

Rick turns his head to the side, catching sight of the vase on the bedside table. His sluggish brain tries to make sense of what he’s seeing as he stares at the dead flowers he could have sworn were new a minute ago. That’s what Shane had said, right? They were from the guys down at the station. They all pitched in to help buy them. Why were they dead?

His right hand reaches out, his I.V. pulling on the skin of his hand, and his fingers take ahold of one the drooping flowers. Dry and crisp to the touch, Rick watches as more petals fall. Turning his head to the left, he looks up at the clock on the wall only to find it frozen at 2:17.

Concerned now, Rick turns back over, his eyes blinking rapidly in the hopes of waking himself up completely. As he struggles to sit up, his wounds protesting, the confused man starts disconnecting himself from the machines. It’s only then he notices just how quiet it is. There’s no sound from the finger pulse oximeter, the I.V., or even outside the room. It’s a hospital, after all. There should be noise coming from out in the hallway or even outside the window. But there was nothing.

Shaky, Rick grabs ahold of the IV pole with his good hand, hoping to brace himself as he attempts to stand. He doesn’t make it all the way up before he’s falling, his weak legs unable to support him. He groans as he hits the floor, his bullet wounds flaring up in pain as he lands on his injured side. He rolls onto his back and toward the door, ripping out his IV. “Nurse, help,” he tries to cry out, his frail voice failing him. He tries again, breathing heavily. “Nurse, help.”

Receiving no answer, Rick forces himself to get up on his own. By the time he’s standing, he’s drenched in sweat and his atrophied muscles scream at him, almost as painful as the damage done to him by the shotgun. Slowly, he makes his way to the bathroom and opens the door. He stumbles in, ripping off the blood pressure cuff, and looks up, only to freeze. Rick stands in the small bathroom, the only light coming from the outside window, and stares at his reflection. Rick hardly recognizes the man in front of him, standing there in his boxers and a hospital gown hanging off his shoulders, bare feet planted on the cold linoleum floor.

He looks himself over, from his new beard, to his skin-and-bones body. Any muscle he’d gained from working as a deputy was long gone. Some part of his mind was whining, not looking forward to how Shane and Lori would react. His partner, always the larger of the two, loved to make fun of how skinny he was before. Now he was just pathetic. And Lori. God, how many times had she complained about his size? An alpha was supposed to be big and strong, able to protect their mate and pups. His mind flashed to all the times he, Lori, and Shane were together and how often she watched his alpha partner with longing when the beta thought he wasn’t paying attention, before turning to watch her mate with barely concealed distaste.

Rick had to stop that train of thought and stepped forward, his hands reaching for the sink’s faucet. He leaned down, turning his head to the side, and used his hand to help gulp up the cool, refreshing water.

When he'd had his fill, his stomach threatening to throw it all back up, Rick made his way back into the room and towards the second door. He pulled it open slowly and shuffled out, stumbling into a gurney that was rolled in front of his door. Rick pushes it away and stands in the middle of the abandoned hallway. The unease he’s been feeling since waking up has started to turn to fear as he looks up and down the corridor, lights flickering, papers strewn across the floor, and doors flung wide open to reveal more empty rooms.

He turns right, heading to the end of the hall where the nurses desk is located and speeds up as he reaches for the landline laying on the counter. He picks it up with his right hand and brings it to his ear. There’s no sound. He desperately presses the hook switch repeatedly, hoping to hear a dial tone. When he doesn’t get the response he’s hoping for, he slams the phone back down and reaches over the counter, rummaging through clutter on the desk, searching for anything to help. He finds a box of matches in a little basket and straightens up. Carefully, he opens the box, pulls out a match, and lights it, a flame flaring at the tip, providing a small bit of light.

He tries to use the match to see the desk better, but the match burns too quickly. He shakes it out and turns around, a flickering overhead light shining through the double doors around the corner. He approaches the doors slowly, the bright light hurting his eyes. Raising his right arm and placing his hand against the glass, Rick squints, looking through the large window in the door. It takes a minute for his eyes to adjust, but when they do, he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.

There, laying in the middle of the lit hall, is what can only be described as a woman’s corpse. Rick’s eyes widen in horror as he takes in the gory sight, her body torn open and entrails laying everywhere around her, her eyes dead. Skin and muscle missing like she’d been picked apart by a pack of wild animals.

Rick had to turn away from the horrible scene before he lost what little he had in his stomach. Limping, he crept in the opposite direction. The horror continued as he did. Wires and air ducts hung from the ceiling, bullet holes lined the walls, and blood was everywhere, splattered across the walls, pooled on the floor, and dragged across different surfaces in hand and foot prints.

The dazed man walked through another set of busted up double doors and into a hall with even more debris littering the floor. At the end of the short hall was a sign that read ‘Cafeteria.’ Below that sign was a set of metal doors. In black spray paint, ‘DONT OPEN, DEAD INSIDE’ was written across them. A piece of wood was shoved through the door handles, along with a heavy metal chain that had been wrapped around them and locked with a large padlock.

It was as if they were trying to keep someone, or something, locked in. Rick flinched back as the doors rattled, loud groans coming from the other side. He watched the doors open as much as the chain and wood allowed. It was only an inch or two, but it was enough for them to slip through. He filled with terror as he watched the long, skinny, dirty fingers reach through the gap like they were reaching for Rick. His breath quickened, reaching panicked levels.

Not waiting any longer, the frightened man whirled around, looking for an exit. He busted through another set of doors and made for the elevator. He pounded the buttons on the wall, but nothing happened. Catching sight of a door leading to stairs, Rick sped up. He pushed the door open and entered, before shutting it quickly. As he was submerged in complete darkness, Rick pulled out a match from the box he had kept clenched in his fist. Coughing slightly from all the moving and heavy breathing, he struck the match, giving him enough light to see the steps in front of him.

Haltingly and multiple matches later, Rick made his way down the stairs and to the ‘Exit’ sign on the first floor. The door squeaked and groaned as he pushed it open. Bright light flooded the dark stairwell and he brought his arms up in front of his face as he was blinded. Slowly his eyes adjusted, and the door closed behind him. Rick held onto the handrail as he stepped down one more set of stairs and onto ground level.

Rick stared, horrified and panicked, as he walked, the ground on either side of him lined with bodies. They were everywhere, on the ground, piled up in truck beds, burnt and executed. Flies buzzed all around and the stench was awful. Having been a police officer, even in a small town, Sheriff's Deputy Rick Grimes had witnessed death before. He’s been on the scene of bad accidents, to the morgue during murder investigations, and has been there, weeks after a death, when someone discovers a partially decomposed body. He thought he had seen and smelled it all, but nothing had ever prepared him for this.

Thoughts flit through his head as he hurried through the lot, past the brick wall, and up the grassy hill. Where is everyone? What happened to these people? Is Carl okay? Lori? Shane? Am I really awake? Am I dead? Is this Hell?

All of these questions raced through Rick Grimes’ panicked mind as he stood there at the top, surrounded by dead bodies, abandoned military vehicles, used medical supplies, torched cars, and destroyed buildings.

Rick wasn’t sure if this was real, but he did know that he had to find Carl. As a father, his son was the most important thing on the planet to him. As an alpha, his son was his to protect, and he needed to find him at all costs. Rick ached for Lori and Shane too, the same way he ached for his parents and friends, but Carl was his first priority. With that thought in mind, Rick began his slow trek home.

The tired alpha stopped as he came upon a bike on the side of the road. He tried to ignore what was left of the body lying not fifteen feet away. Tried not to wonder if this was their bike that he was taking. He froze when he heard groaning and turned to the corpse. His heartbeat sped up and he lost it as the body -the dead body- turned over and reached out to him. Panicked noises escaped Rick as he tried to backpedal only to trip and fall, taking the bike with him. He watched as the top half of this person attempted to drag itself toward him, even though it shouldn’t be possible.

As quick as his damaged, exhausted body would allow him, Rick climbed on his new red bike and began pedaling away, only turning back briefly to watch the ‘person’ continue to reach for him.

Finally, Rick arrived at his home. Climbing off the bike and shoving it off to the side, he quickly stumbled his way up the front steps and into his house through the already open front doors. “Lori,” he said. When he received no answer, Rick began searching the house, calling out, “Lori! Carl. Carl!” Still no answers. “Lori! Carl!” Realizing they were really gone, Rick fell to the floor, sobbing, filled with fear and grief. “Lori!” he yelled, his voice breaking. “Carl.”

Rick wasn’t sure how long he laid on that floor, either crying and yelling for his family, or questioning his existence. “Is this real?” he asked aloud. “Am I here?” Rick hit himself in the head angrily a few times. “Wake-wake up,” he begged of himself.

Numbly, Rick got up and walked through the empty house and out the front door. He sat on the steps in front of the house and watched in detached interest as a man walked down the street. Rick raised his hand in an attempt to get his attention, and so focused on him, Rick never noticed the little boy approach him from behind. Too late, Rick heard steps behind him and turned, only to get a shovel to the face. As a boy’s voice rang out above him, yelling “Daddy! Daddy!” Rick stared up at him in relief, not even aware of his new bloody nose. “Carl. Carl, I found you.”

The boy ignored Rick’s dazed ramblings. “Daddy, I got the sum’bitch! I’m gonna smack him dead!”

Rick turned his head to follow his attacker’s line of sight. He watched a black man approach the same man Rick had waved at previously, raise a revolver to his head, and pull the trigger. In his state of shock, Rick could do nothing but watch as the murderer quickly advance toward them next, putting himself between Rick and the boy who was presumably his son.

“He say something?” the man asked as he laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I thought I heard him say something.”

Both of the strangers were breathing heavily from adrenaline as Rick continued to lay on the ground. “He called me Carl,” the boy replied, looking back down toward Rick, his hands gripping the shovel tight.

“Son, you know they don’t talk,” the older man said as he turned to look at Rick himself and raises the gun so it’s aimed at Rick. “Hey, Mister, what’s that bandage for?”

Confused at what he was seeing and hearing, Rick just looked at them. “W—what?”

Agitated, the man asked again, “What kind of wound?” Rick just raised his head and shook it. “You answer me, damn you. What’s your wound?” No answer. “You tell me…” The man uses his thumb to pull back the hammer of the revolver. “Or I will kill you.” The two strangers watched as the injured man stared at them, not understanding anything, before his head dropped back to the ground, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, before passing out.

When Rick came to, his mind was clear for the first time since being shot. As he opened his eyes to an unfamiliar room, he took stock of his body. His wrists had been tied to the headboard and his feet to the footboard, and his bandages replaced. His nose, while sore, had been cleaned up too.

Realizing he wasn’t alone, Rick turned to find the young boy watching him, his shovel having been replaced by a wooden bat. He hears the snapping of rubber gloves and looks to his right, finding the older man standing at a dresser and removing said rubber gloves. The man sets them aside before glancing at Rick. “Got that bandage changed now. It was pretty rank. What was the wound?” he asks yet again, washing his hands in a bowl of water.

“Gunshot.” Rick answers, his voice still hoarse.

“Gunshot?” The man repeats as he turns to look at Rick, drying his hands off. “What else? Anything?”

“Gunshot ain’t enough?” Rick asks incredulously.

Annoyed, the man approaches Rick, still tied to the bed, and points at him as he says forcefully, “Look, I ask, and you answer.” He straightens back up and lowers his hand, obviously forcing himself to remain calm. “That’s common courtesy, right?” He leans forward over Rick, his hand planted on the bed. “Did. You get. Bit?” he asks emphatically.

Rick looks at the man above him, wondering if he hasn’t just been kidnapped by an insane murderer and his son. He wets his lips with his tongue, the George heat having dried them. “Bit?” he asks.

“Bit, chewed, maybe scratched. Anything like that?”

Confused but serious, Rick answers, “No. I got shot.” Rick tries to convey his honesty through his eyes as he continues. “Just shot, as far as I know.”

The man, now sitting on the edge of the bed, softens his body language and reaches out towards Rick’s face. The restrained man can’t help but flinch at the movement and he hesitates. “Hey,” he says softly, as if approaching a wounded animal -which isn’t far from the truth- and slowly moves his hand forward, placing it on Rick’s forehead. “Just let me,” the stranger says as he uses his own hand to gauge the temperature of Rick’s forehead. He looks over at his son and referencing Rick’s skin, tells him, “Feels cool enough.” He looks back down at Rick, who’s still wary of this stranger’s actions and words. “Fever would’ve killed you by now.”

“I don’t think I have one,” Rick says, his head moving back and forth.

“Be hard to miss,” the older man says. Briefly glancing at his son, the man reaches behind him and pulls something out of a small holster.

Rick watches as the man opens up a pocket knife and feels his pulse race, wondering if the man really went through all of this trouble to kidnap him and clean him up, just to kill him. He leans back as far as his horizontal position allows and keeps his eyes on the knife that’s being held in front of his face.

“Take a moment,” the man says seriously, “look how sharp it is. You try anything,” he threatens, putting the tip of the knife right in Rick’s face, causing him to turn his head to the side, “I will kill you with it, and don’t you think I won’t.”

Rick glances at the man out of the corner of his eye, seeing the truth in the man’s own. This man was willing to defend himself, willing to kill for himself and his boy. Rick knew what it felt like to be responsible for your child and be willing to anything for them. He only wondered why this man thought him a threat.

Finished with his promise, the stranger reached above Rick and used the knife to cut his restraints, freeing his hands, before cutting the ones on his ankles.

Rick slowly brought his hands together, rubbing at his sore wrists.

“Come on out when you’re able,” was all the strange man said as he put away his knife and walked away. He paused by his son. “Come on,” he tells the boy before walking out the door, his son following, but not before taking one last look at Rick.

Rick turned on his side to watch them as they left. He has no idea what to make of his situation, still not even sure if any of this is real. Outside is a ghost town, save for the dead bodies everywhere. There’s no real way to tell how long it’s been since he was shot.

What happened to everyone? Why was he left behind? Where’s Carl and Lori and Shane? How long was I asleep? Where am I? Who are these people and why did they take me? Why did that man murder someone in cold blood? Why were they worried about a fever and why would the man ask if he was bit? Bit by what? What was that thing in the park? How was it still alive? What am I going to do now?

All of these questions ran through Rick’s head as he got up from the bed. Physically, this was the best he’s felt since being shot. He was still sore, shaky, and achy, but there wasn’t any sharp pain and his head was finally clear. As he stood and stripped the dirty hospital gown, replacing it for a large, warm blanket, Rick took a better look at his surroundings. The room he was in was just a normal bedroom, but it was the windows that got his attention. Blankets were hung over them and he could see edges of wood peeking out of the sides like they were boarded up. More questions entered his mind and he shuffled out of the room.

Across the hall, the two strangers stood in a dining room, lit with candles and lanterns. The windows behind them were just like the ones in the bedroom.

Noticing Rick, the two stopped messing with their food and watched as Rick looked around. He made his way into the living room, taking in the makeshift beds in the living room, mattresses on the floor. Supplies stashed around the room, canned food, packages of water bottles.

As Rick stood in the living room, he noticed something about the house he was in. “This place, Fred and Cindy Drake’s?” he asks aloud.

“Never met ‘em,” the man answers as he watches Rick from the dining room.

“I’ve been here. This is there place,” Rick says with certainty while he continues his search.

“It was empty when we got here.” Rick walks to one of the windows and moves to push away one of the hanging blankets. “Don’t do that,” the man says. “They’ll see the light.” Rick looks at him. “There’s more of ‘em out there then usual. I never should’ve fired that gun today,” he continues as he returns to his food. “Sound draws them. Now they’re all over the street. Stupid,” he says, more to himself, “using a gun.” Rick approaches the two strangers as he listens. “But it all happened so fast. I didn’t think,” he defends as he sits down.

Rick looks at the man in displeasure and some confusion. “You shot that man today.”

The man just shrugs. “Man?”

“It weren’t no man,” the boy cuts in.

The dad’s head whips to the side. “What the hell was that out of your mouth just now?”

Slightly ashamed, the boy corrects his speech. “It wasn’t a man.”

Angry, Rick continues. “You shot him in the street out front. A man.”

“Friend,” the stranger says, “You need glasses. It was a walker.” Confused, Rick doesn’t have a response. “Come on. Sit down before you fall down. Here,” he says as he scoops some baked beans out onto a plate in front of Rick.

Rick pulls out a chair to join them, but before he can start eating, the boy speaks up. “Daddy, blessin’.”

The man looks at his son. “Yeah,” he says softly before glancing at Rick and taking his son’s hand.

It takes a few second, but Rick eventually gives into their pointed stares and gives him his own hand. All holding hands, the older man starts they’re prayer. “Lord, we thank thee for this food, thy blessings, and we ask you to watch over us in these crazy days. Amen.”

“Amen,” the boy echoes. Releasing hands, the three of them begin eating, Rick realizing just how hungry he is.

The older man looks at Rick and he can’t tell if it’s with concern or suspicion. “Hey, Mister, do you even know what’s goin’ on?”

Rick pauses in his eating. “I woke up in the hospital today. Came home and that’s all I know.” Rick’s chest aches as he remembers coming home only to find everyone gone.

“But you know about the dead people, right?”

Remembering all the dead bodies he saw on his way home, Rick nods, sick to his stomach. “Yeah, I saw a lot of that -out on the loading docks, piled in trucks.”

The man’s definitely concerned now. “No, not the ones they put down, the ones they didn’t -the walkers.” Rick kind of freezes and just stares at the man. “Like the one I shot today, ‘cause he’d have ripped into you, tried to eat you, taken some flesh at least.” Rick squints at him, trying to make sense of the nonsense he’s hearing. “Well, I guess if this is the first you’re hearing it, I know how it must sound.”

“They’re out there now? In the street?” Rick asks, gesturing to the front of the house.

“Yeah,” the man confirms, relieved Rick is taking him seriously. “They get more active after dark sometimes. Maybe it’s the cool air or, hell, maybe it’s just me firing that gun today, but we’ll be fine as long as we stay quiet. Probably wander off by morning. But listen,” he says, making sure Rick’s paying attention, “One thing I do know, don’t you get bit. I saw your bandage and that’s what we were afraid of,” he says, glancing at his son. “Bites kill you. The fever burns you out. But then, after a while… You come back.” Again, he looks to his son. His eyes go distant, obviously remembering something and the boy speaks up.

“Seen it happen,” he says, having seen the doubt on Rick’s face. The boy’s eyes grow distant and sad too, and his father lays a comforting hand on his arm. Rick can guess they lost someone and he has a pretty idea who, but he doesn’t say anything.

The three finish their dinner in silence, giving Rick some time to absorb what he’s been told. He tries to rationalize what he’s been told, tries to deny it, but he can’t excuse away what he’s seen with his own eyes. His mind flashes back to the body in the park that reached out to him and he shivers.

Rick glances at the two betas across the living room and he feels a flash of jealousy. This man gets to sit with and comfort his son. Rick doesn’t even know where Carl is. His boy may be an alpha, but he’s still too young to take care of himself. Besides, Rick’s never believed any of that knothead bull. Just because an omega shows submissive characteristics in bed, doesn’t mean they can’t take care of themselves in the real world. Hell, omega’s can be some of the most fierce and protective people out there when they or their pack is threatened. And maybe betas don’t fit with alphas or omegas, but that just means they never have to worry about fighting their biology.

This is something Rick and Lori never agreed on. She’s always had an archaic view of A/B/O dynamics. She believed that an alpha was responsible for the safety of a pack and omegas should be kept at home, safe from the world. But that was only women omegas. Male omegas disgusted her. She didn’t believe it was right that a man could get pregnant, never mind that they couldn’t control it and it was something that developed naturally. Male omegas tend to show up more often when there’s a problem with the reproduction population. Giving men the ability to get pregnant increases population. A male omega can still only get pregnant by another man, but because at least half of the population was bi or gay, it does help.

Shane normally agreed with Lori. He was an alpha and he didn’t ever want to take orders from a beta, let alone an omega. Being alphas meant that he and Rick often butt heads on the job, but Rick was usually content to take the back seat. He never felt a need to assert his dominance the way Shane did, and was willing to follow him. This didn’t mean Rick always let Shane have his way though. If he didn’t agree, Rick was willing and able to put Shane in his place. Thankfully that didn’t happen too often. Being best friends most of their lives meant that they were used to each other's personalities and knew each other better than most. They’d die for each other and that was more important than anything else.

So, sure, Rick didn’t always agree with their views, but they made it work. Now, his worry was for Carl. He refused to believe he was dead or one of those things. What did the man call them? Walkers? No, Rick had to believe Carl was alive. Shane had promised to look after them if anything happened to Rick, and he knows Shane would have made sure they were safe. He knew Lori loved their son, but she didn’t know how to survive by herself. She refused to go camping, so living in this new world with no electricity and things trying to constantly kill you? She had no hope. This wasn’t because she was a beta, it was because she was always so dependent on having an alpha do everything for her.

Rick tried not to think of her and Shane and Carl all together, having left him for dead, and forgetting about him. Shane was the kind of alpha Lori always compared Rick to. He knew Shane would take care of Carl and love him like his own, and Rick would always be grateful, but he’s also seen the looks Shane gives Lori. It’s one of the many reasons Rick had called a divorce lawyer not long before he was shot. He was tired of coming home to a wife who nagged and nagged, a wife who started fights just to fight, who complained Rick wasn’t making enough money but wouldn’t get a job. He was tired of coming home to cold shoulders and a wife who filled their son’s head with primitive thoughts that no longer applied in this day in age.

Rick was broken out of his depressing thoughts by the other man’s voice. “Carl, he your son?” Rick looked over at him in confusion. “Well, you, you said his name today.”

Rick nods. “He’s a little younger than your boy.”

“And he’s with his mother?”

Rick lets out a deep breath. “I hope so.”

“Dad?” a quiet voice calls out.

The man turns to his son who’s laying on the mattress beside him and lays a hand on the boy’s son. “Hey.”

“Did you ask him?” he asks his dad.

The man huffs a laugh and turns to Rick. “Your gunshot -we’ve got a little bet going. My boy says you’re a bank robber.”

Rick chuckles. “Yeah, that’s me, the deadliest Dillinger. Kapow.” The man chuckles with him and Rick shakes his head a bit. “Sheriff’s Deputy.”

“Uh-huh,” the man says seriously.

Before anything else can be said, a car alarm starts blaring outside. The boy shoots up into a sitting position, scared by the noise. “Hey, it’s okay. Daddy’s here,” the man says, trying to sooth his son. “It’s nothing. One of them must’ve bumped a car.”

“Are you sure?” Rick asks as he starts getting up, worried.

“It happened once before,” the man assures him. “It went on for a few minutes. Get the light Duane,” he tells his son as the two adults rise and approach the front windows, turning off lanterns as they go. The man pulls a blanket to the side, just enough for them to peek through. “It’s the blue one, down the street.”

They both look out the window, the lights of the blaring car, flashing like a beacon, and the previously empty streets filled with roaming walkers.

“It’s the same one as last time. I think we’re okay.”

“That noise,” Rick says, worried, “Won’t it bring more of them?”

“Nothin’ we can do about it now. Just have to wait ‘em out till mornin’.”

The boy -Duane, his father had called him- approached the window, standing between the two grownups. As they stand there watching, one of the walkers, a woman, comes into view, staring up at the house, an almost curious expression on its face. Gasping, Duane says out loud, “She’s here.”

“Don’t look,” his father says urgently, “Get away from the windows.” When the boy doesn’t move, he presses, “I said go. Go on.” The boy does as he’s told, rushing back to his bed and collapsing, trying to use his pillow to muffle his sobs. “Duane. Duane, quiet now,” the father says as he joins his son on their mattress. “Come on. Quiet now. Shh, shh,” he tries to sooth.

Rick stands at the window, listening to the father try and comfort his son enough to quiet the high-pitched whines. He watches the woman from before slowly stumble her way up towards the house and onto the front porch. Following her, Rick limps his way to the front door, watching through the peephole as the walker comes up to the door.

“It’s okay. Here,” Rick hears the other adult say as he holds his son. “Cry into the pillow. Do you remember? Shh, shh.”

Rick watches with morbid curiosity as the woman continues to stand outside the front door, just watching, searching. Surprised, Rick looks down when the doorknob rattles. The woman, the walker, is trying to open the door. Though she’s unsuccessful between the locks and wood planks, Rick is startled and disturbed enough to back away, joining the other two on the bed.

“She um… She died in that other room on that bed in there,” the older man said, his voice cracked with grief.” Rick gave the man his attention as he continued. “That fever man, her skin gave off a heat like a furnace.” He gave a shaky sigh. “I should’ve—I should’ve put her down. I should’ve put her down. I know that, but I—You know what? I just didn’t have it in me.” He brings up a hand, wiping tears from his eyes. “She’s the mother of my child. My mate.”

And there’s nothing Rick can say to that. He and Lori have had their ups and downs, and maybe he wasn’t in love with her like he once was, but if he were in this man’s position, he wouldn’t have been able to pull the trigger either. Not to mention, he had no idea what it would be like had Lori been his mate. Technically they were mated by law, but rarely did people find their true mate.

Those who found their true mates were few and far between. Because of this, those who do find their other half are considered blessed. Nothing is to come between true mates. To do so would find the offender in jail. The bond between true mates is the strongest bond known to man. Some argue that the bond between a mother or an omega and their child is just as strong, or stronger, than the mate bond. And in some cases, that might be true. But, sadly, there have been enough cases of abusive mothers/omegas and abandoned pups to dispute that argument.

No one knows how it works, but to treat one’s mate like that is nearly impossible. The drive to protect and provide for their mate is too strong, not to mention the fact that mates literally feel each other's emotions. Mates build each other up, support each other, and complete each other. To hurt your mate, is to hurt yourself.

Because the chance of finding your true mate is so slim, most people won’t hold out hope. Rick and Lori fell in love in college without the help of a mate bond, and managed close to ten years of happiness before things began to fall apart. Rick could never regret his time with his wife though, because it gave him Carl. Rick knows that the only reason this man beside him is holding on to any semblance of sanity is for the pup in his arms.

What sleep the three squatters do get that night, is restless. When they wake, plans are laid out over breakfast, which is only more beans, but Rick can’t complain. His weak stomach can’t handle much anyway.

After putting on some of Fred Drake’s left behind clothes, Rick and the others prepare themselves for the walk to the Grimes’ home. Rick is given Duane’s bat and a clear mask, like the ones coroners use, to keep any walker blood out of his face.

As they stand on the front porch, Rick looks to the man, Morgan he now knows, and asks, “Are we sure they’re dead? I have to ask at least one more time.”

“They dead,” Morgan answers, sure. “Except for somethin’ in the brain. That’s why it’s got t’be the head.”

Reassured, Rick makes his way down the front porch of the Drake’s home. Slowly, he approached the undead body at the end of the white picket fence, Morgan and Duane backing him up. Sensing their presence, the walker rises to his feet, groaning and advancing on them haltingly.

The walker didn’t take three steps before Rick was swinging his bat, the wooden barrel connecting viciously with the walker’s head. The man, the corpse, hardly flinched, undeterred by the blow. Rick brought the bat back quickly and swung again, and again, and again, and again. Five blows and the walker finally fell, Rick almost following. He kneeled by the body, no mask, breaths heaving, and wounds throbbing. His muscles weren’t used physical activity yet. Normally, he’d be put through extensive physical therapy, but that wasn’t really possible anymore.

“Y’all all right?” Morgan asks while standing out of the way.

“I need a moment,” Rick admits. He sits there, one hand holding his ribs and the other holding his bat, while trying not to get sick. It’s not just the physical exertion that’s getting to him, but the fact that he’s woken up in a world where he’s forced to beat a man with a bat in a friend’s front yard to avoid being eaten. If he hadn’t already had a mental breakdown the previous day, this would have put him over the edge. As it is, he forces himself to get up and move on, what’s left of his energy focused on finding his missing pup.

Rick leads Morgan and his son to his home, walking in the front door confidently and level-headed. “They’re alive- my wife and son,” he tells them, certain in his belief. “At least they were when they left.”

“How can you know?” Morgan asks incredulously. “By the look of this place—"

Rick turns to face the other man. “I found empty drawers in the bedroom. They packed some clothes- not a lot, but enough to travel.”

Doubtful, Morgan points out rationally, “You know anybody could’ve broken in here and stole them clothes, right?”

Rick gestures to the empty walls with his bat. “You see the framed photos on the walls?” Rick answers his own question, not waiting for Morgan. “Neither do I. Some random thief take those too, you think?” Rick can see Morgan’s still doubtful, but he looks contemplative too. Rick opens a cabinet along the wall beside him and shows them the empty space inside. “Our photo albums, family pictures- they’re gone.”

Morgan grins at him in disbelief, letting out a sad, broken laugh as he pulls out a chair at the dining room table and sits down. “Photo albums.” Seeing the confusion on Rick’s face, he explains, “My wife- same thing. There I am packing survival gear, she’s grabbing photo alb—” Morgan stops, unable to finish.

Duane steps forward before Rick and saves Rick from trying to find the right thing to say. “They’re in Atlanta, I bet.”

Morgan nods. “That’s right.”

“Why there?” Rick asks, excited for a new lead.

“Refugee center,” the older beta answers. “A huge one they said, before the broadcast stopped. Military protection, food, shelter… They told people to go there, said it’d be safest.”

Duane speaks up again. “Plus they got that disease place.”

“The Center for Disease Control,” his dad clarifies. “Said they were working out how to solve this thing.”

Rick nods, agreeing with their logic. He goes to his kitchen and opens up a cabinet door, revealing multiple sets of keys. Grabbing the set he needs, Rick and the other two pack up what they need and head to the police station.

Rick unlocks the doors when they get there, using a flashlight to make their way through the building, careful of any potential walkers. After they’ve cleared the place, Rick leads them to the locker room where the showers are.

As Rick turns on the water for one of the shower heads, Morgan states, “Gas lines have been down for maybe a month.”

“The station’s got its own propane system,” Rick tells them. He lifts his hand, letting the water run over it, and smiles at them. “Pilot’s still on.”

Morgan and Duane grin at each other, thrilled at the possibility of the first hot shower in weeks.

The three males cheer and laugh as they wash off under clean, hot, water. Rick takes the time to shave his beard, chuckling at their child-like glee at such a simple action. He too is happy to wash off, not having had a proper shower since before he was shot. He was sure he was given sponge baths while in a coma, but that doesn’t hold up to taking his own shower.

Rick and Morgan watch Duane disappear from sight as they sit on the locker room bench in their towels. “Atlanta sounds like a good deal. Safer anyway- people.”

“That’s where we were headed. Things got crazy. Man, you wouldn’t believe the panic.” Morgan shakes his head. “Street’s weren’t fit to be on. And then my—” The man pauses and glances away, trying to get the words out. “My wife couldn’t travel- No, not with her hurt. So, we had to find a place to lay low. And then after she died, we just stayed hunkered down. I guess we just froze in place.” Morgan shakes his head again.

“Plan to move on?” Rick asks, secretly hoping they’ll agree to come with him. He doesn’t want to leave them, the people who took care of him and introduced him to this new world, afraid he’ll never see them again.

Morgan takes a deep breath, straightening his spine as he answers, “Haven’t worked up to it yet.”

Rick just nods, not happy, but willing to let it go.

When the three are finally dressed in clean clothes, Rick in his King County deputy’s uniform and his Colt Python on his hip, he shows them the gun cage. He unlocks the sliding doors, happy to find something in there. “A lot of it’s gone missing.”

Looking around, Duane looks to his father. “Daddy, can I learn to shoot? I’m old enough.”

Morgan turns to his son, still stuffing a duffle bag with any guns and ammo he can find. “Hell yes, you’re gonna learn. But we’ve got to do it carefully, teach you to respect the weapon.”

“That’s right,” Rick says in full cop mode, “It’s not a toy. You pull the trigger, you have to mean it. Always remember that, Duane,” Rick tells the boy when he’s sure he has his full attention.

Duane nods, serious. “Yes sir.”

“Here,” Morgan says, handing his son the duffle, “load up.”

Rick takes a rifle off the wall and checks the sights of the scope before handing it to Morgan. “You take that one. Nothing fancy. The scope’s accurate.”

The other man takes it, checking for himself, before continuing to pack up. They split up the multiple rifles, shot guns, hand guns, and ammo between each other before getting ready to leave. With one last stop to pick up Rick’s hat, they exit the station.

“Conserve your ammo. It goes faster than you think, especially at target practice,” Rick advises them, his years and experience as a deputy showing.

Rick stops at a police cruiser and Morgan turns to his son, holding out one of their gym bags. “Duane? Take this to the car.”

“Okay,” the boy says easily as he takes the bag and continues on.

Rick sets his bags down and removes his hat. “Are you sure you won’t come along?”

“A few more days. By then Duane will know how to shoot and I won’t be so rusty.”

Knowing he’s beat, Rick opens the door to his car and leans in, taking out a walkie-talkie and handing it to Morgan. “You’ve got one battery. I’ll turn mine on a few minutes every day at dawn. You get up there, that’s how you’ll find me.”

Morgan smiles at him with respect. “You think ahead,” he says as he moves toward his own car.

“Can’t afford not to, not anymore,” Rick tells him as he follows him around the back of the cruiser.

“Listen, one thing,” Morgan pauses to warn the cop, “they might not seem like much one at a time, but in a group, all riled up and hungry- man you watch your ass.”

“You too,” Rick replies as Duane joins them.

The two men shake hands and Morgan looks Rick in the eyes and says, “You’re a good man, Rick. I hope you find your wife and son.”

Rick just nods in thanks and turns to the boy. “Be seeing you, Duane,” he says as they shake hands. “Take care of your old man.”

“Yes sir,” Duane says with a smile.

Before they can part ways, the sound of a walker makes itself known. They all turn to find the undead man on the other side of a fence, dressed in a torn-up deputy’s uniform.

“Leon Basset?” Rick asks incredulously, thinking about the last time he saw the man, making some joke about making it on some cop show just before Rick was shot. “I didn’t think much of ‘im,” Rick tells Morgan without looking away from Leon. “Careless and dumb, but…” They watch the man, the walker, stand at the fence, growling at them. “I can’t leave him like this.”

“You know they’ll hear the shot,” Morgan warns him.

“Let’s not be here when they show up,” Rick says as he approaches the fence, pulling his Python from its holster.

“Let’s go, son. Come on,” Morgan says as he leads his pup to their car.

Rick raises his gun as he stands in front of his former co-worker and puts it to the things forehead. He watches as it just stands there, his efforts to get to Rick only increasing. Without another word, Rick pulls the trigger, watching with a new sort of detachment as the walker’s head snaps back, the bullet exiting the back of its head, taking with it skull fragments and pieces of brain tissue, before it falls to the ground.

Rick and the two betas part ways in front of the station, Morgan honking and Rick letting the siren beep in farewell. On his way out of town, Rick stops at the same park from before, hoping to put down the walker he first came across. It’s not where he left it the day before and Rick sighs, before following drag marks in the grass from where it dragged itself away. When Rick finds it, he stops, just crouching down to watch it move, feeling pity for the person it used to be. “I’m sorry this happened to you,” Rick tells it before raising his gun and pulling the trigger.

Rick has to take a moment to pull himself to together, his mind and heart filled with fear and dread. He looks at the body and can’t stop himself from wondering if he’d find his son in the same condition, if he found him at all.

Finally, on his way out of King County, Rick picks up his CB and talks. “Broadcasting on Emergency Channel. Will be approaching Atlanta on Highway 85. Anybody reads, please respond.” No answer. “Hello. Hello. Can anybody hear my voice?” Rick watches the lighting flash off in the distance. “Anybody out there? Anybody hears me, please respond. Hello, can you hear my voice? Hello. Hello. Can anybody hear my voice? Can you hear my voice? If anybody reads, place respond. Broadcasting on Emergency Channel. Will be approaching Atlanta on Highway 85. Anybody reads, please respond.”

After a while, Rick takes a break, putting down the radio. Rick decides to hit the first gas station out of town, so he pulls to a stop and retrieves the gas can from the trunk. He walks past the all the vehicles: over turned, blown-up, wrecked, out of gas, or just left behind. He passes children’s toys, strollers, clothes, and more. What people are left behind are long dead. The area was obviously a make-shift camp at one time, with tents and blanket shelters set up outside cars. When he finally makes it to the gas pumps, it’s to find a ‘NO GAS’ sign, and Rick sighs in disappointment, but not surprise. It’s been months since the world ended and most gas stations are going to be long empty.

Hearing growls, Rick whips around, hand going to his hip where his Python sits. Not seeing anything, he takes off his hat and lowers himself to the ground to peak under the cars. He freezes and watches as two bare legs in bunny slippers shuffle forward and a small hand reaches down to pick up a stuffed bear. Rick quickly rises, rushing around the car to reach the child. He watches as the little blond girl continues to shuffle away and tries to get her attention. “Little girl? I’m a policeman. Little girl,” he calls again, and she stops, her back still to him. “Don’t be afraid, okay.” He walks towards her slowly. “Little girl?”

Rick watches the child turn around and can’t help but feel despair as he gets a good look at her. Her cheeks are torn up, her teeth and jaw showing, along with a nasty cut on her head. Her clothes are torn and covered in blood, and her eyes are hazy and dead. She’s a walker.

“Oh my god,” Rick whispers in horror as the girl starts after him, and he backs away, his hand moving back to his hip. The girl comes at him faster, blood running out of her mouth, one hand still holding the bear, and Rick has no choice but to raise his gun and pull the trigger. He feels a part of himself die inside as he watches the little girl fall, her brains and bones spraying out behind her from the shot to the head.

Rick stands there, not able to stop himself from picturing his own son in this little girl’s position. She was someone’s daughter, someone’s little girl… someone’s pup, and Rick just had to put her down like an animal.

Numb, Rick picks up his things, and leaves, no longer thinking about gas. He returns to the car and decides to get as far as he can with what’s left in the tank.

 Eventually the alpha’s car runs out of gas and he has to stop. Before getting out, Rick flips the visor down and looks at the picture in front of him. Lori, Carl, and him stare back at Rick and he thinks back to where they were. It was taken the last time Rick remembers being happy, truly happy. The sheriff’s station threw a Christmas party two Christmas’s prior. Carl was so happy to dress up in a suit, to look like a real man, a real alpha.

Rick shakes his head to rid himself of the memories and focus on the present. He takes the picture and puts it in the breast pocket of his uniform shirt, before hitting the lever to open the trunk. He exits the police cruiser, taking his duffle bags with him, and goes to retrieve the gas can from the trunk. Ready for the long walk, Rick heads up the road towards the next gas station.

As he passes the first house around for miles, Rick halts. Hoping they might have gas, he calls out. “Hello?! Police officer out here! Can I barrow some gas?” Not receiving an answer, walks toward the front porch after setting all his belongings down. Rick removes his hat and calls out again, “Hello?!” He makes it to the front door and knocks. “Hello? Anybody home?”

Not hearing or seeing any movement from inside the house, Rick walks along the porch, spying through the windows. He stops at the end of the porch, looking in through the living room window. The sound of multiple buzzing flies hit Rick’s ears and he knows before he even looks that he’s not going to like what he finds. He has to stop himself from getting sick once he realizes just what he’s seeing and even smelling. A man, presumably the owner of the house, is reclined in one of the living room chairs, a rifle resting in his limp hand. The back of his head is missing, and Rick doesn’t need to be a trained investigator to know this man took his own life. On the floor is an older woman, she too is dead, blood having seeped out under her head onto the carpet.

Rick moves away from the house, sitting at the stone picnic table in the yard as he tries to breath, to not panic.

Looking around, Rick spots an old truck off to the side and decides to give it a look. The owners won’t need it anymore, his mind points out cruelly. He opens the driver’s door, looking for the keys. His stomach fills with dread when he realizes the keys are probably inside. With a sigh, he moves back toward the house, only to be stopped at the sound of what can only be a horse blowing out a breath. Rick looks over, and there it is, a full-grown horse, just standing in the backyard eating grass.

Rick chuckles, not believing what he’s about to do. He detours to the barn and grabs a lead rope. Setting his hat on the fence post, Rick slowly opens the gate and approaches the horse, careful to keep his body language as non-threatening as possible. He babbles at it, not really paying attention to the words coming out of his mouth, too busy watching the horse for any sign of aggression. Thankfully, Rick’s able to leash the horse without any problems and lead it to the barn to be saddled. When he has everything he’s able to carry secured, the alpha mounts the horse.

Nervous, Rick tells him, “Just go easy, okay? I haven’t done this for years.” Obviously not understanding Rick’s words, the horse takes off on a gallop and Rick has to use every bit of lower body strength he has left to avoid being thrown.

The ride to Atlanta is long and painful, but Rick knows he can’t stop, hoping to make it to the Refugee Center before sunset. They stop, just outside of downtown, just staring at the tall buildings in front of them. The highway they’re on is completely void of cars, while the other side is backed up as far as they can see. Rick takes a deep breath, trying to not to lose hope at the image. If Atlanta was so safe, why was everyone trying to leave? The cars pointed out of town to his left, and the crashed train to his right doesn’t bode well for Rick’s mission.

Rick signals for the horse to continue walking, and the further they get into the city, the more hope Rick loses. For a place as small as King County to be turned into a ghost town was one thing, but for a large city like Atlanta? Rick didn’t know what to think. Where were the people? Or even, where were the walkers? He wasn’t naïve enough to think that just because he didn’t see any, that there weren’t any, or that they were safe. They were in King County, and they’ll be here too.

Rick looks up and down the deserted street, nothing in the roads but trash. The further into the city he gets, the mores signs of life, and death, there are. Abandoned military vehicles, trashed helicopters, and busted up cars. The first walkers they come across, come from a burnt-up city bus. The horse whinnies, high pitched and nervous. Trying to sooth him, Rick signals him to continue and says softly, “Steady. There’s just a few. Nothin’ we can’t outrun.” The horse trots on until they reach the next intersection, and here, Rick turns, hoping to stay away from their pursuers.

They stop at a tank sitting in the street, a body in a military uniform laying on top, being picked apart by a couple of crows. Rick has to look away from it, evidence that even the military couldn’t keep the people safe from this.

They only get to move a few paces away before the sound of a helicopter reaches Rick’s ears. He stops them, looking up into the sky, desperately searching. When he catches sight of it in the reflection of one of the sky scrapers, Rick urges the horse forward. Too late, Rick spots the hoard of walkers around the corner, and they spot them. He pulls the horse up, but the damage has already been done. The panicked neighs and whinnies from the horse echo through the streets, and soon, they’re boxed in on all sides. “Oh shit,” is all Rick has time to say before the horse rears up, trying to avoid the grabbing hands and teeth of the predators.

Soon, Rick is thrown to the ground, only able to get away while the walkers take down the horse. Rick spares a moment to grieve and feel guilty, knowing that he brought this horse to its death. He can only watch as it thrashes and cries as it’s torn apart.

The alpha’s brought back to the present when one of the many walkers tries to attack him, and so Rick kicks it away before scrambling away. Surrounded, Rick crawls under the tank, kicking at the hands that try to follow him. Walkers come at him from each end of the tank, and Rick fires off five shots, but it’s not nearly enough. Losing hope, Rick lays flat and brings his Python up to his temple to use his last round for himself. “Carl, I’m sorry,” he says before opening his eyes. It’s only then that his notices the bottom hatch of the tank is open, and quickly he climbs up inside it.

Closing the door, he scrambles back, out of breath. He looks around and his hardly phased by the dead military man beside him. He takes deep breaths, trying to calm down, and reaches over to take the pistol from the dead man’s holster. Rick gets it loose, but his relief is short lived when the man turns his way, growling. Reacting, he raises his Python, the gun shoved under the walker’s chin, and pulls the trigger, using the last bullet.

Rick cringes as the shot goes off in the enclosed space, the noise ricocheting off the metal walls, causing his ears to ring. He raises his hands to his now free hands to his ear, disoriented and dizzy. He struggles to move away, but falls to the floor, his eyes landing on the open hole above him. The disoriented man crawls up, his top half sticking up out of the tank, and takes in his surroundings. The walkers are still everywhere, more having appeared after the gunshots. He spots his bag of guns laying on the ground where he dropped them, but as the walkers catch sight of him, he knows he doesn’t have a chance at reaching them.

As more and more walkers climb the tank, Rick ducks back down, closing the hatch. Once again, he falls to the floor, listening to the walkers pound at the tank in an effort to get him. He picks up the dead man’s pistol and checks the clip. Loading the gun, Rick sits there inside the tank, in the middle of Atlanta, surrounded by the dead, with only one usable gun. Drowning in his worries, and depressing thoughts, Rick almost misses the sound. A radio inside the tank crackles to life. “Hey, you,” Rick hears. “Dumbass. Yeah, you in the tank,” the man answers Rick’s unasked question. “Are you cozy in there?”

Rick can only stare at the source of the sound, not completely sure he’s not hallucinating. He can’t stop the flair of hope that rises in him at the first sign of life since he left home.

Rick’s broken out of his thoughts by the static of the radio again. “Hey, hey are you alive in there?”

Quickly Rick moves to the CB, hitting his head once, and takes ahold of the speaker. “Hello? Hello?” he asks desperately.

“There you are,” the mystery man answers, relief in his voice. “You had me wondering.”

“Where are you? Outside? Can you see me right now?”

“Yeah, I can see you. You’re surrounded by walkers. That’s the bad news.”

“That’s the good news?” Rick asks in disbelief.

“No.”

“Listen, whoever you are, I don’t mind telling you I’m a little concerned in here.”

“Oh man, you should see it from over here.” The man doesn’t even sound sarcastic, just worried. “You’d be having a major freak-out.”

Rick shakes his head. “Got any advice for me?”

“Yeah,” the man says, a bit of hysterical amusement showing through, “I’d say make a run for it.”

Rick blinks, wait for more. “That’s it? ‘Make a run for it’?”

The man turns defensive and he starts talking even faster than before, his voice hurried. “My way’s not as dumb as it sounds. You’ve got eyes on the outside here. There’s one geek still up on the tank, but the others have climbed down and joined the feeding frenzy where the horse went down. You with me so far?”

Still dubious, Rick answers, “So far.”

“Okay, the street on the other side of the tank is less crowded. If you move now while they’re distracted, you have a chance. Got ammo?”

“In that duffle I dropped out there, and guns. Can I get to it?” Rick asks desperately.

“Forget the bag, okay? It’s not an option. What do you have on you?”

“Hang on,” Rick says and drops the mic to count bullets. Then he moves to the dead soldier and pats him down. Not finding anything, Rick looks up to find a grenade sitting on the ledge in front of him. He picks it up, soaked in sweat, panting, and puts it in his pants pocket. Moving back to the radio, Rick picks up the mic and presses the button. “I’ve got a Beretta with one clip, fifteen rounds.”

“Make it count. Jump off the right side of the tank, keep going in that direction. There’s an alley up the street, maybe fifty yards. Be there.”

“Hey, what’s your name?” Rick’s curious about this man who’s choosing to help him, even though he doesn’t have to.

The man doesn’t answer. “Have you been listening?” he asks, his voice rising slightly. “You’re running out of time.”

“Right,” Rick says to himself, realizing he can ask when they meet up. He drops the mic and grabs a small shovel mounted on the wall with one hand, and the Beretta with the other. He breaths heavily, bracing himself to fight his way out.

He throws the hatch open and comes face to face with the first walker, and uses the shovel to take him out. Not pausing, Rick climbs the rest of the way out of the tank and leaps off, rolling his ankle in the process. Limping, he moves as fast as he can down the street, firing his Beretta at anything that gets close.

Rick turns at the mouth of the alley and comes face to face with a young Asian man in a ball cap.

“Woah! Not dead!” the man, a beta, shouts when he finds Rick’s gun in his face. The voice definitely belongs to the man on the radio. “Come on! Come on!” he yells as he pulls Rick into the alley, past the chain link fence. “Back here! Come on! Come on!”

They reach a ladder leading to a fire escape, just as Rick runs out of bullets. The stranger climbs up first, Rick keeping guard.

“What’re you doing? Come on!” he yells at Rick.

Rick does as he’s told and follows the stranger up the ladder, narrowly missing the walkers as they grab at his legs and feet.

They make it to the first landing, bent over and panting, as they watch the alley fill with walkers below. The man looks at Rick and says sarcastically, “Nice moves there Clint Eastwood. You the new sheriff come riding in to clean up the town?”

“It wasn’t my intention.”

“Yeah, whatever. Yeehaw. You’re still a dumbass.”

The alpha chuckles breathlessly. “Rick. Thanks,” he says as he holds out a hand to his rescuer.

He looks at Rick strangely, but shakes his hand. “Glenn. You’re welcome.” Rick turns and opens the backpack Glenn’s wearing and puts the empty Beretta inside. Glenn watches the walkers below and breaths out, “Oh no.”

Rick follows Glenn’s line of sight and together they watch on of the undead begin climbing the ladder. Rick and Glenn look up along the side of the building, following the ladder that goes all the way to the top. One ladder, for multiple stories.

Glenn looks at Rick and says, “Bright side: it’ll be the fall that kills us. I’m a glass-half-full kinda guy.” With that, they start their trek up the ladder, all the way to the top. They walk across the roofs of the few buildings that are connected, and Glenn asks Rick, “Are you the one that barricaded the alley? Somebody did- I guess when the city got overrun. Whoever did it was thinking not many geeks would get through.”

Glenn leads them to a hatch in one of the roofs that will let them drop inside, and Rick wonders, “Back at the tank, why’d you stick your neck out for me?”

Door open, Glenn takes off his backpack and drops it inside as he looks at the alpha. “Call it foolish, naive hope that if I’m ever that far up shit creek, somebody might do the same for me,” he tells Rick as he climbs down into the building. He pauses and looks up at him. “Guess I’m an even bigger dumbass than you,” the beta says before continuing his descent.

Rick’s not sure what to say to that, as embarrassed and maybe amused as his is, so he decides not to reply and follows Glenn through the hole. Rick follows Glenn as he moves quickly through the building and out a door into another alley. As the move down the stairs, Glenn pulls out a walkie-talkie and speaks into it. “I’m back. Got a guest and four geeks in the alley.”

They reach the bottom of the stairs and said geeks notice them right away. Just when Rick’s wondering how they’re going to get past four walkers without any weapons, the alley door of the building in front of them opens and two people rush out in baseball catcher’s gear. Glenn and Rick rush across the alley and through the door as the two new people take care of the two walkers that were in their way, with their bats. “Let’s go!” Glenn yells at all of them.

Rick hears one of the mystery men yell out, “Morales, let’s go!” but he’s too focused on the gun that’s shoved in his face as soon as he gets through the door to car.

The blond, white, female alpha that’s holding the gun looks at Rick with hatred in her eyes as she shoves him up against some filing cabinets. “You son of a bitch. We ought to kill you.”

One of the men wearing catcher’s gear, a beta, pulls off his mask and says, “Just chill out Andrea. Back off.”

“Come on, ease up,” a dark-skinned, female beta with short black hair tells the other woman, Andrea, anxiously.

The female alpha replies with disbelief. “Ease up? You’re kidding me, right? We’re dead because of this stupid asshole.”

The first beta, a man with tan skin and dark hair, steps forward. “Andrea, I said, back, the hell, off.” The rest of them watch nervously, waiting for the blond to decide. Rick can see her struggle a bit with taking an order from a beta, especially when her emotions are so extreme right now. “Well, pull the trigger.”

Instead, she lowers the gun and Rick lets out a sigh of relief.

“We’re dead -all of us- because of you,” she tells Rick as she steps back, shaking her head and looking at him with disappear and blame.

Confused, Rick tells them, “I don’t understand.”

The male beta grabs Rick’s arm and pulls him to the front of the store they’re in and explains. “Look, we came into the city to scavenge supplies. You know what the key to scavenging is?” he asks rhetorically as he shoves the alpha, the six of them trail through the halls in a line, flashlights and weapons at the ready. “Surviving! You know the key to surviving? Sneaking in and out, tiptoeing. Not shooting up the streets like it’s the O.K. Corral.” They stop when they reach the front and Rick looks up to find a group of walkers shoved up against the outside of the glass doors.

The second male, nameless beta speaks up. “Every geek for miles around heard you poppin’ off shots.”

“You just rang the dinner bell,” Andrea tells Rick as they all stare at the sight in front of them.

“Get the picture now?” the first male beta asks, mocking.

They watch as countless hands and bodies pound at the glass, cracks running along it all. One of the walkers even picks up a brick to hit the glass with and the second beta says with fear, “Oh god.”

They all back away from the doors and Andrea looks at Rick. “What the hell were you doing out there anyway?”

“Trying to flag the helicopter.”

“Helicopter?” the dark-skinned man asks incredulously. “Man, that’s crap. Ain’t no damn helicopter.

“You were chasing a hallucination. Imagining things. It happens,” the dark-haired, female beta tells Rick.

Defensive and annoyed, Rick argues firmly, “I saw it.”

“Hey T-Dog, try that C.B. Can you contact the others?” the male beta, Morales apparently, asks the other male beta. The man does as asked and starts fiddling with the hand-held radio.

“Others? The Refugee Center?” Rick asks, hopeful.

“Yeah, the Refugee Center. They’ve got biscuits waiting at the oven for us,” the female beta says sarcastically.

“Got no signal,” T-Dog speaks up. “Maybe the roof,” he suggests.

That’s when they hear gunshots coming from above them and Andrea utters with despair, “Oh no, is that Dixon?”

“What is that maniac doing?” one of them asks and Glenn tells Rick, “Come on, let’s go,” and they all rush towards the roof. They hurry up the stairs, hearing gunshots along the way.

They break through the door and Morales yells at the man with a rifle, “Hey Dixon, are you crazy?!”

The man, a redneck alpha, stands on the ledge of the roof and turns toward them, waving the rifle. “Hey, y’all be more polite to a man with a gun! Huh?” He hops down with an, “Ah.” He looks up at them. “Only common sense.”

T-Dog approaches the new alpha. “Man, you waistin’ bullets we ain’t even got.” The man just laughs. “And you’re bringing even more of them down on our ass! Man, just chill.”

“Hey!” the man yells back. “Bad enough I’ve got this taco-bender on my ass all day. Now, I’m gonna take orders from you? I don’t think so, bro. That’ll be the day.”

“’That’ll be the day’? You got somethin’ you wanna tell me?”

Rick looks at Glenn and the beta shakes his head, signaling him to stay out of it. Morales speaks up, trying to defuse the situation. “Hey, T-Dog man, just leave it.”

“No!” T-Dog says.

“Alright? It ain’t worth it. Now Merle, just relax, okay? We’ve got enough trouble.”

Ignoring Morales, Merle keeps his attention on T-Dog. “You wanna know the day?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll tell you the day, Mr.’Yo,’ it’s the day I take orders from a nigger, a beta nigger at that.”

“Mother—” is as far as T-Dog gets before he throws a punch. Merle dodges it easily and brings the butt of the rifle up and hits T-Dog right in the face.

“Hey, come on Merle. That’s enough,” Morales yells.

Rick decides it’s time to step in, and leaping up and over some pipes, he tries to get him from behind. Rick doesn’t even touch Merle before the alpha spins, punching him in the face and sending him back over the pipes.

Rick stays on the ground, eyes watering from the punch and trying to get his equilibrium back. He can hear the sounds of flesh hitting flesh and shouts from the rest of the group as they try to break up the fight. It’s when he hears multiple gasps before the group goes quiet, that shocks Rick back to the present issue. He hears Andrea beg, and knows it’s bad.

Rick slowly gets to his feet, and watches as Merle stand up straight, a gun in his hand and T-Dog bloodied up on the ground. “Yeah! All right! We’re gonna have ourselves a little powwow, huh? Talk about who’s in charge! I vote me! Anybody else? Huh? Democracy time, y’all. Show of hands, huh?” He asks as he raises his free one. “All in favor? Huh? Come on, let’s see ‘em. All in favor?” Slowly hands start rising, including a middle finger from the still unnamed female beta. “Yeah, that’s good.” Andrea’s last, an alpha not wanting to submit, but she can’t argue with a psycho with a gun. “Now, that means I’m the boss, right? Yeah. Anybody else? Hmm? Anybody?”

Rick took the time while Merle was distracted, his back to him, and crept quietly up behind the other alpha. “Yeah.” Merle turns and Rick hits him with his own rifle, just like he hit T-Dog. While Merle’s preoccupied with the pain, Rick pins Merle’s head to the ground with a knee to his neck, and takes out his cuffs. He takes ahold of Merle’s right wrist and locks one cuff around it, and the other around the roof pipes. Rick drags Merle up into a sitting position by the front of his shirt.

“Who the hell are you, man?!” he yells in Rick’s face.

Getting close, Rick answers sarcastically. “Officer Friendly.” He reaches around, picking up a handgun, and makes a show of showing it’s loaded. “Listen here, Merle. Things are different now. There are no niggers anymore. No dumb-as-shit, inbred, white-trash, knotheads anymore either.” Merle just looks at Rick with a slight smile, unconcerned. “Only dark meat, and white meat. There’s us and the dead. We survive this by pulling together, not apart.”

“Screw you, man.”

Rick can only smile. “I can see you make a habit of missing the point.”

“Yeah? Well, screw you twice.”

Rick puts the loaded gun to Merle’s temple, throwing his words back at him. “Ought to be polite to a man with a gun. Only common sense.”

“You wouldn’t,” Merle drawls. “You’re a cop.”

Rick lowers the gun and dips his head, making sure Merle can see the truth in his eyes. “All I am anymore, is an alpha looking for his pup. Anybody that gets in the way of that is gonna lose.” Rick pauses, letting that sink in. “I’ll give you a moment to think about that.” Rick pats Merle down, finding a short straw used to snort drugs, and pretends to look up Merle’s nose. “Got some on your nose there,” he says, flicking said appendage, and stands up, walking to the ledge.

“What’re you gonna do? Arrest me?” he asks laughing. “Hey, what’re you doing? Man, that’s my stuff!” he yells angrily as Rick tosses it over the ledge. Rick just glances at him before walking away. “Hey! If I get loose, you’d better pray! Yeah, you hear me, you Pig?! You hear me?!”

Unconcerned, Rick says, “Yeah, your voice carries.” He stands at the edge of the roof, leaning against the ledge, and ignores Merle’s insults. His left hand holds his right wrist, trying to stop it from shaking, obviously not as unaffected and cool as he appeared to Merle. He lowers his hands when Morales joins him, eyes taking in the city, or what’s left of it.

“You’re not Atlanta P.D.,” he states, not a question. “Where are you from?”

“Up the road a’ways,” the alpha answers vaguely.

Morales huffs. “Well, Officer Friendly from up the road a’ways, welcome to the big city.” With that, they both turn to look out at what’s left of Atlanta, streets filled with walkers and thunder rumbling ominously in the distance.

Rick and Morales turn and join the others. “God, it’s like time square down there,” Andrea says.

Morales looks at T-Dog and asks, “How’s that signal?”

“Like Dixon’s brain -weak,” he says snidely, staring at the alpha. The man in question just silently flips T-Dog off.

“Keep trying,” Morales tells him.

Andrea looks to Morales. “Why? There’s nothing they can do. Not a damn thing.” She walks away, and Rick looks to the beta.

“Got some people outside the city is all,” Morales explains. “There’s no refugee center. That’s a pipe dream.”

Trying to think practically, Rick speaks up. “Then she’s right. We’re on our own. It’s up to us to find a way out.

“Good luck with that,” Merle says mockingly. “These streets ain’t safe in this part of town from what I hear. Ain’t that right, Sugar Tits?” Merle propositions Andrea crudely as she packs up her things. “Hey, Honeybunch, what say you get me outta these cuffs, we go off somewhere and bump some uglies? Gonna die anyway.”

“I’d rather,” the female alpha says as she shakes her head in disgust.

“Rug muncher. I figured as much.”

“’Streets ain’t safe’” Morales repeats. “Now there’s an understatement.”

Thinking quick, Rick asks, “What about under the streets? The sewers?”

“Oh man,” Morales says, realization dawning. He turns to Glenn and yells, “Hey Glenn, check the alley. You see any manhole covers?”

Glenn stands and jogs to the ledge above the alley and looks down. Only seeing walkers, he jogs back and says, “No, must be all out on the street where the geeks are.”

The female beta speaks up. “Maybe not. Old building like this, built in the ‘20’s -big structures often had drainage tunnels into the sewers in case of flooding down in the subbasements.”

“How do you know that?” Glenn asks.

“It’s my job -was. I worked in the city zoning office.”

Taking her word for it, everyone but T-Dog and Merle head to the basement. When they make it to the bottom of the building, they find a large, square hole in the ground, a ladder leading down into the sewers.

“This is it? Are you sure?” Morales asks the Glenn, who lead them to the hole.

“I really scoped this place out the other times I was here. It’s the only thing in the building that goes down. But I’ve never gone down it. Who’d want to, right?” The other four look at Glenn. “Oh,” he swallows. “Great.”

“We’ll be right behind you,” Andrea says, trying to be comforting.

“No, you won’t. Not you.”

“Why not me? Think I can’t?” she demands, her alpha nature showing through.

“I wasn’t—” he stutters, submitting slightly to the upset alpha.

Rick lays a hand on Glenn’s neck, soothing the beta. “Speak your mind.”

Glenn nods and takes a deep breath. “Look, until now I always came here by myself -in and out, grab a few things- no problem. The first time I bring a group- everything goes to hell. No offense. If you want me to go down this gnarly hole, fine, but only if we do this my way. It’s tight down there. If I run into something and have to get out quick, I don’t want you all jammed up behind me getting me killed. I’ll take one person- not you either,” he says pointing at Rick. “You’ve got Merle’s gun and I’ve seen you shoot. I’d feel better if you were out in that store watching those doors, and covering our asses.” Rick nods, agreeing to his plan. Glenn points to Andrea. “And you’ve got the only other gun, so you should go with him.”

Glenn points at Morales next. “You be my wingman.” He looks to the female beta. “Jacqui stays here. Something happens, yell down to us, get us back up here in a hurry.”

“Okay,” the beta, Jacqui, agrees with a nod.

“Okay, everybody knows their jobs,” Rick says, patting Glenn on the back.

The three staying behind, watch as Glenn and Morales climb down into the hole, and Rick gives the younger beta a nod when he looks up. With that, Rick and Andrea leave to guard the glass doors in the storefront while Jacqui stands guard at the top of the hole.

When they reach the glass doors and are assured they’ll hold for the time being, Andrea speaks up. “Sorry for the gun in your face,” she says, sounding genuinely remorseful.

Rick waves the apology away. “People do things when they’re afraid.”

“Not that it was entirely unjustified. You did get us into this.” She’s less apologetic this time.

“If I get us out, would that, make up for it?”

“No,” she says, then smiles. “But it’d be a start.”

No one speaks for a moment while they watch the walkers. Rick turns to the other alpha and says, both serious and amused, “Next time though, take the safety off. It won’t shoot otherwise.”

“Oh,” is all she can say as she looks at the gun in her hand.

“Is that your gun?”

“It was a gift. Why?”

Rick puts his own gun away and holds a hand out for hers. She hands it over and he switches the safety off. “Little red dot means it’s ready to fire. You may have occasion to use it.” With that, he hands the gun back over.

She nods. “Good to know.”

Rick keeps watch, while Andrea takes a look at the jewelry on the glass counter. “Oh,” she says softly when something catches her eye.

“See something you like?” he asks as he joins her.

She nods. “Not me but, I know someone who would- my sister. She’s still such a kid in some ways. Unicorns, dragons- she’s into all that stuff. But mermaids- they rule. She loves mermaids,” Andrea tells Rick as she caresses the mermaid necklace in front of her.

“Why not take it?” he asks.

She gives him a ‘do I look stupid to you?’ look and she says dryly, “There’s a cop staring at me.” Rick looks away as he rolls his eyes with a chuckle. “Would it be considered looting?” she asks hopefully.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out quickly. “I don’t think those rules apply anymore. Do you?” She answers by taking the necklace and putting it in her pocket, shooting him a grateful smile.

Before either of them can say anymore, the sound of glass shattering grabs their attention. Their heads whip around to see the walkers begin to make their way through the first set of glass doors and windows. Morales, Jacqui, and Glenn join them just as the walkers begin to attack the second wall of glass, the wall last between them and the humans. Pointing his gun toward the glass, Rick asks the new-comers, “What did you find down there?”

“Not a way out,” Morales answers.

We need to find a way… and soon,” Andrea says as the walkers start cracking the glass, bricks in their hands.

They head to the roof in an effort to scout a new way out. Rick uses the binoculars and spots a truck. Getting an idea, Rick hands the binoculars to Morales and says, “That construction site, those trucks- they always keep keys on hand.”

“You’ll never make it past the walkers,” Morales tells Rick as he watches them roam the streets below.

“You got me out of that tank,” Rick tells Glenn.

“Yeah, but they were feeding. They were distracted,” the young, male beta points out.

“Can we distract them again?” Rick asks.

Merle speaks up from his position chained to the roof. “Right. Listen to him. He’s on to somethin’. A diversion like on ‘Hogan’s Heroes’.”

“God. Give it a rest,” Jacqui says disdainfully.

Ignoring Merle, Rick continues. “They’re drawn by sound, right?”

“Right,” Glenn says. “Like dogs. They hear a sound, they come.”

“What else?” the male alpha asks.

“Aside from they hear you? They see you, smell you, and if they catch you, they eat you,” Morales answers.

An idea sparking, Rick asks, “They can tell us by smell?”

“Can’t you?” Glenn asks incredulously.

“They smell dead, we don’t. It’s pretty distinct,” Andrea states obviously.

His plan coming together in his head, Rick takes charge and tells them what they’re going to do. He leads them back to the store and starts collecting the supplies they’ll need.

“If bad ideas were an Olympic event, this would take the gold,” Glenn says hysterically as he takes the rubber gloves from Rick.

“He’s right,” Morales says. “Just stop, okay? Take some time to think this through.”

“How much time? They already got through one set of doors, that glass won’t hold forever,” Rick points out logically.

Unable to argue his logic, the group helps Rick collect the rest of the supplies. Everyone gets a pair of large, rubber gloves, and the men wear plain, tan rain coats. That done, they open the door to the alley and Morales and Rick run out, grabbing the body of one of the walkers they put down earlier.

Now, they all stand in a circle, dressed in coats and gloves, each holding a weapon. Rick breaks the glass of the case in the wall and takes out the emergency ax, and approaches the body. He works himself up to doing what needs to be done, but when he raises the ax, he can’t follow through. It feels wrong using someone’s body like this. They might not have been human when they died, but to disrespect their body like this is disgraceful.

Rick takes off his clear mask and gloves, and places them on the ground along with his ax. He kneels beside the body and pats the pockets for a wallet. When he finds it, he opens it up and reads the name on the license he finds inside. “Wayne Dunlap. George license. Born in 1979. Beta.” Rick hands the license to Glenn. “He had $28 dollars in his pocket when he died… and a picture of a pretty girl. ‘With love, from Rachael.’ He used to be like us- worrying about bills, or the rent, or the super bowl… If I ever find my family, I’m gonna tell them about Wayne.”

They have a moment of silence before Rick puts the wallet back, and moves to pick his things back up.

“One more thing,” Glenn speaks up, still holding the license. “He was an organ donor.”

Nothing more to say, Rick raises the ax and brings it down on the dead body, again, and again, and again, and again. When he can’t do it anymore, Rick hands the mask and ax to Morales and says, “Keep chopping.”

Moaning, Glenn says, “I’m so gonna hurl.”

“Later,” Rick tells him. “Everybody got gloves? Don’t get any on your skin or in your eyes.” That said, they all take a deep breath before crouching down and sticking their hands into the crushed and shredded body. They grab handfuls of blended bones, organs, blood, and skin. Starting with Rick, he rubs the handfuls of guts on himself, his nose raised, trying to get away from the smell. With the others’ help, Rick and Glenn are covered in walker guts. When Rick tries to make Glenn feel better by telling him to think about puppies and kittens, and T-Dog says, ‘dead puppies and kittens,’ Glenn finally gets sick.

“That is just evil,” Andrea tells him. “What is wrong with you?”

Jacqui looks up at Rick and tells him, “Next time let the cracker beat his ass.”

“I’m sorry, yo,” T-Dog tells Glenn.

Unforgiving, Glenn replies, “You suck.”

“Do we smell like them?” Rick asks the rest of them.

“Oh yeah,” Andrea answers. “Glenn,” she says, getting the young man’s attention. He looks up from his bent over position to see her gun held out to him. Understanding he’s unable to take it, she carefully lifts up the front of his coat and puts it in the front of his waistband.

“If we make it back, be ready,” Rick tells them.

“What about Merle Dixon?” T-Dog asks.

Rick takes off his left glove and reaches into his pants pocket, pulling out the cuff key and tossing it to the beta. Not another word, T-Dog closes his hand around the key and steps back.

“Give me the axe,” the alpha tells Morales as he puts his glove back on. Taking it, he raises it above his head as he explains, “We need- we need more guts.” And so, he continues chopping up the body.

By the time they’re done, Glenn and Rick have hands, feet, and intestines hanging around their necks. They exit the building into the alley and look at each other before beginning their journey as walkers. Shuffling and groaning, they make their way up the alley, under a bus, and into the street, at a painstakingly slow pace. Their disguises work against the walkers, so they move towards the construction site.

They’re not even halfway there when thunder rumbles above them, the clouds that had been looming in the distance all day having finally made it to them. It starts raining soon after and they still have a few hundred feet to go. It begins pouring and they look down to find the walker bits washing off their coats.

The walkers begin paying more attention to them and Glenn looks at Rick, worried. “The smell’s washing off, isn’t it?” he asks anxiously. “Is it washing off?”

“No, it’s not,” the alpha tries to reassure the beta. One of the walkers growl at Rick as he passes, looking right at him. “Well, maybe.” The first walker tries to attack Rick and he puts his axe through its head before yelling at Glenn. “Run!”

And that’s what they do. They run the rest of the way to the construction site, chased by the undead, swinging their axe and crowbar respectively at the walkers along the way. They toss their weapons over the locked gate before hopping the fence just in time. Knowing the fence won’t hold them long, they strip out of the gut covered clothes quickly. Rick uses his gun to pick off walkers climbing the fence, while Glenn uses his crowbar to open the box of keys. Grabbing a pair, he tosses them to the alpha yelling, “Rick!”

They run to the moving truck, getting in just as the first walker makes it over the fence and to their vehicle. Starting the truck, Rick puts it in reverse. He backs up and they watch as the walkers tear down the fence. Putting it in drive, Rick floors the gas and busts through one of the other gates.

Freaking out, Glenn exclaims, “Oh my god. Oh my god. They’re all over that place.”

Slightly calmer, Rick states, “We need to draw them away. Those roll-up doors at the front of the store- that area? -that’s what I need cleared. Raise your friends. Tell them to get down there and be ready.”

Hysterical, Glenn asks, “And I’m drawing these geeks away how? I-I missed that part.”

“Noise,” is all Rick says. He drives them around until they find what he’s looking for. He stops them when he spots the red and black sports car, getting out and busting the window of the driver’s door. It sets off the alarm, the sound blaring through the city. He unlocks the door through the broken window and gets in, using a flathead screwdriver to start the car.

Rick and Glenn part ways, Glenn in the car, and Rick back in the truck. Glenn goes in the opposite direction, drawing the walkers away from the store, giving Rick an opening.

Rick drives straight to the store, backing up to the loading doors. He gets out of the driver’s seat and climbs in the back, sliding the door up and open. He pounds on the store’s metal door and watches as it’s pulled up. Rick catches a couple bags that are thrown at him before heading back to the driver’s seat. He waits until Morales, T-Dog, Jacqui, and Andrea are in the truck, walkers at their heels, before taking off.

Morales pulls the door shut before climbing into the passenger seat and Rick looks back over his shoulder, counting heads. When he comes up one head short, Rick doesn’t ask. Seeing the looks he’s receiving, T-Dog explains. “I dropped the damn key.”

Nothing else is said on the matter, though Rick is filled with guilt. It wasn’t his fault alone, but he just played a part in leaving a man to die, chained to a roof by his hand.

Andrea breaks Rick out of his thoughts as she yells up to him. “Where’s Glenn?”

“He’s right behind us!” Rick yells over the sound of the truck’s engine. “He was the distraction while I went back for you!”

Nothing else to say, the trip back to the camp is made mostly in silence, all of their minds preoccupied with the alpha they left behind.

The higher they get up in the hills, the louder Glenn’s car alarm echoes. Rick briefly tells the others what happened when they wonder aloud about the noise and they take him at his word.

Morales gives Rick directions on how to get there and at one point he speaks up. “Best not to dwell on it. Merle got left behind.” Rick can only look at Morales in disbelief. How can this man say that? “Nobody’s gonna be sad he didn’t come back… except maybe Daryl.”

Rick does a double take. “Daryl?”

“His brother,” Morales answers, unconcerned.

Dread fills Rick at the implication. Not only did he help kill a man, now he was going to meet the man’s brother and explain what happened. If his brother was anything like Merle, Rick may not have to worry about walkers anymore, because this Daryl person might just take him out.

All these thoughts fill Rick’s head as they approach the camp, only halting when the car alarm gets louder as Glenn passes them, whooping loudly.

“At least somebody’s having a good day," Morales says with a smile. Rick though, can’t smile back, too preoccupied with what he’s going to find at this camp.

Glenn’s car alarm is shut off just before they pull up to camp and Rick puts the truck in park behind the other vehicles. He shuts it off and Morales turns to him and pats him on the chest. “Come meet everybody.”

Rick can only nod as the passengers disembark the truck, running to meet their friends and family. He tips his head forward and pinches the bridge of his nose, a headache forming. It’s hardly past noon and it’s already been a long day. He has a feeling that this new world will probably be filled with endlessly long days, one after the other.

The tired alpha doesn’t want to get out of the truck for two reasons. The first being obvious: he doesn’t think he’s ready to meet Daryl. The second though, is different. He doesn’t want to see all the happy reunions. He can’t begrudge them their love, but seeing it will only make the emptiness in him grow.

Eventually he hears Morales yell, “Hey helicopter boy! Come say hello!”

Bracing himself, Rick gets out of the truck slowly and shuts the door. He tries to make himself smaller, not wanting to cause any problems, being a new alpha in unknown territory.

He walks around the line of cars and hears Morales say, “The guy’s a cop like you.”

Looking up to see who the beta’s talking two, Rick feels like he’s been punched in the gut, his breath leaving him. There, right in front of him, is his partner, his brother in all but blood, Shane. Rick barely has time to let that sink in before he catches sight of his pup. He watches, tears in his eyes and unsure if this is real, as his boy turns, catching sight of his dad.

“Oh my god,” he breaths.

He rushes forward just as Carl start running, yelling “Dad! Dad!” and it’s music to his ears.

Rick can’t help but sob as he scoops his boy up in his arms for the first time in too long. He falls to his knees still clutching his little boy, unable to move any further. With Carl’s face shoved in his neck, Rick looks up grinning at Lori who’s standing a few feet away. He freezes momentarily when he catches the panicked look she shares with Shane, understanding right away what’s happened. He doesn’t say anything, deciding to focus on Carl, not wanting to worry about anything else for the moment. He’ll worry about them later.

That night, he sits by the fire with Carl in his lap. He embraces the closeness while it lasts. Before he went into the coma, Carl was just starting his independent alpha phase where he didn’t want to be comforted by dad anymore and he knew this wasn’t likely to last long.

“Disoriented,” Rick tells the group. “I guess that come’s closest. Disoriented. Fear, confusion- all those things but… disoriented comes the closest.”

“Words can be meager things,” the older man in a fishing hat says, a beta named Dale. “Sometimes they fall short.”

“I felt like I’d been ripped out of my life, and put somewhere else. For a while I thought I was trapped in some coma dream, something I might never wake up from ever.”

“Mom said you died,” Carl says from his place in Rick’s arms. Rick glances briefly at Shane before looking at Lori who sits beside him. She tried to lean up against Rick when they sat down, but Rick pulled away subtly, causing Lori and Shane to shoot him worried looks, but neither commented.

Rick knows that something happened between her and Shane. Logically, he understands they were headed for a divorce before, but that doesn’t mean he’s not hurt. He couldn’t have been in the coma more than a few months, and the world only went to shit maybe one month ago, if that. He wouldn’t have survived in the hospital long after the IV ran out. So, the fact that he hadn’t been ‘dead’ more than a few weeks before his best friend started screwing his wife, hurt. He never would have been so disrespectful had it been the other way around. They may have not been real mates, but they were in the eyes of the law, and as a cop, laws were what he believed in. Rick never would have broken his vows, and especially not with Lori’s sister.

But, even knowing all of this, Rick didn’t want his son to blame his mom and forced out as sincere as he could, “She had every reason to believe that.” Which was technically true. “Don’t you ever doubt it.”

Lori decides to speak up for the first time. “When things started to get really bad, they told me at the hospital that they were gonna medevac you and the other patients to Atlanta, and it never happened.”

“Well, I’m not surprised after Atlanta fell,” Rick says.

Lori nods. “Yeah.”

Rick thinks back to the hospital he woke up in. “And from the look of that hospital, it got overrun.”

Shane agrees, still looking nervous. “Yeah, looks don’t deceive. I barely got them out, you know?”

Rick looks his former partner in the eye. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you, Shane. I can’t begin to express it.” Rick says it for two reasons. One, he really is grateful to Shane for getting his pup out safe when he couldn’t. He has no doubt Lori wouldn’t have been able to keep Carl safe by herself. The second reason he says it is to see the guilt in his eyes, a petty part of him wanting his friend to feel bad.

What Rick wasn’t expecting to see was the flash of possessiveness in Shane’s eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was for Lori and/or Carl, and that made Rick uneasy. He didn’t care much about Lori anymore, but he wouldn’t be giving his son up now that he just got him back. Shane may have watched out for Carl the past few months, but the boy already had a father and an alpha, and neither of those were Shane.

Rick made a mental note to keep an eye on him before focusing on his pup, laying a kiss on the top of his head.

“There go those words falling short again. Paltry things,” Dale says into the awkward silence.

A man, an alpha, stands up and puts a log on the other fire. “Hey, Ed, you wanna rethink that log?” Shane asks him.

“It’s cold man,” Ed replies.

“The cold don’t change the rules, does it?” Rick almost snorts at the irony. The cold doesn’t change the rules, but apparently a month with no legal system changes the laws when it benefits Shane and Lori. Ignorant to Rick’s thoughts, Shane continues. “Keep our fires low, just embers so we can’t be seen from a distance, right?”

“I said it’s cold,” the man says snidely, ignoring Shane’s logic. “You should mind your own business for once.”

Frustrated, Shane stands up and walks over to the other man. “Hey Ed… Are you sure you want t’have this conversation, man?” Shane puts all of his alpha power and posturing into the question, enough so it’s not really a question.

Annoyed, Ed submits. “Go on. Pull the damn thing out.” When his wife doesn’t move, he repeats himself. “Go on!”

Rick watches the omega woman with a shaved head jump up to comply, walking around the fire to pull the log out while her husband sits on his ass.

“Christ,” Shane says to himself. He stomps the fire out on the log before approaching the little girl and crouching beside her and her mom. “Hey, Carol, Sophia, how’re y’all doin’ this evenin’?”

“Fine. We’re just fine,” Carol answers for them.

“Okay,” Shane says.

Carol glances at her husband before looking at Shane. “I’m sorry about the fire.”

“No no no,” Shane stops her. “No apology needed. Y’all have a good night, okay?”

They watch him stand back up and Carol says, “Thank you.”

“I appreciate the cooperation,” Rick says as he passes Ed.

Rick watches Shane move back to his seat and can’t help but feel pride. This was his best friend, his brother. He may not always have the same liberal view Rick has, but he was a good cop. The way he handled the mean alpha and treated the quiet omegas, was the reason Rick was able to look past some of Shane’s less redeeming qualities.

“Have you given any thought to Daryl Dixon?” Dale asks, and just like that, Rick’s hit with dread and guilt again. In reuniting with his son, Rick completely forgot about the Dixon brothers. “He won’t be happy to hear his brother was left behind.” Understatement.

“I’ll tell ‘em,” T-Dog says. “I dropped the key. It’s on me.”

Rick shakes his head. “I cuffed him. That makes it mine.”

“Guys,” Glenn says. “It’s not a competition. I don’t mean to bring race into this, but it might sound better coming from a white guy.”

“I did what I did,” T-Dog insists. “Hell if I’m gonna hide from ‘em.”

“We could all lie,” Andrea’s omega sister, Amy, suggests.

“Or tell the truth,” Andrea counters. “Merle was out of control. Something had to be done, or he’d have gotten us killed. Your husband did what was necessary,” she tells Lori, and Rick has to force himself not to flinch at ‘husband’. “And if Merle got left behind, it is nobody’s fault but Merle’s.”

Dale looks at them doubtfully. “And that’s what we tell Daryl?” He shakes his head. “I don’t see a rational discussion to be had from that, do you?” No one answers. “Word to the wise- we’re gonna have our hands full when he gets back from his hunt.”

“I was scared, and I ran,” T-Dog says. “I’m not ashamed of it.”

“We were all scared,” Andrea says. “We all ran. What’s your point?”

“I stopped long enough to chain that door. Staircase is narrow. Maybe half a dozen geeks can squeeze against it at any one time. It’s not enough to break through that- not that chain, not that padlock. My point- Dixon’s alive and he’s still up there, handcuffed on that roof. That’s on us,” he finishes before standing up and walking away.

The rest of them sit by the fire as the implications of what T-Dog’s said sinks in. Part of Rick feels relief that Merle’s alive after all, but part is horrified that he’s been up on that roof for hours, starving and listening to walkers beat at the door to the roof. Not to mention, if they want to keep Merle alive, someone’s going to have to go back to Atlanta to get him. It’s safe to assume the brother -a hunter God help him- will want to go get him, but Rick’s not sure about the rest of the group. From what he’s witnessed of Merle himself, and the comments made by the others, he doesn’t see any of them wanting to stick their neck out for the tough, crude, redneck alpha.

Carl, Shane, and Lori won’t be happy, but Rick knows what he has to do. Besides, there are a few things he left behind anyway.

When Rick goes to bed that night, he joins Carl and Lori. He strips his shirt from the heat, but is careful to keep Carl between him and he wife -ex-wife? - so she doesn’t get any ideas. He says it’s because he doesn’t want to let Carl go yet and it’s mostly true. They let it go, Carl still more than happy to cling to his dad for now too.

After Carl’s asleep, they talk about photo albums and rings. It’s not until Rick refuses to take his wedding ring back that Lori realizes something’s not right.

“What’s wrong?” Lori asks nervously.

Rick looks at her in the eye. “You know what’s wrong,” is all he says before laying on his back, one hand on Carl, and the other arm across his eyes.

Rick hears Lorie draw in a sharp breath, but she doesn’t say anything. They lay there in silence the rest of the night, slowly dropping off into a restless sleep.

When he wakes, Rick is alone in the tent, and clean shoes and clothes lay by the door. After getting dressed, he decides to go looking for Carl, saying greeting those he passes, politely. He stops in front of Carol who’s ironing some clothing. “Morning.”

“Morning,” she replies. “The sun’ll have them dry in no time,” she says, patting his deputy uniform.

“You washed my clothes?” he asks in surprise.

“Well, best we could. Scrubbing on a washboard ain’t half as good as my old Maytag back home.”

“That’s very kind. Thank you.”

Carol gives him a brief smile and Rick moves on. He stops next to Glenn who’s watching some of the other men take apart the new sports car.

“Look at them,” the beta says, childish. “Vultures,” he mutters. Louder, “Yeah, go on, strip it clean.”

Dale passes them looks at Glenn. “Generators need every drop of fuel they can get. Got no power without it. Sorry, Glenn,” the older beta says as he pats the younger man on the back.

Dale walks away, and Glenn says to Rick quietly, “Thought I’d get to drive it at least a few more days.”

Rick smiles and tells him, “Maybe we’ll get to steal another one someday.” Rick pats Glenn on the back and continues walking.

Next, he runs into Lori who’s hanging up clothes to dry. “Morning, Officer,” she tries tentatively.

“Hey,” he replies coolly. Andrea and Amy who are standing a few feet away, give them odd looks at their tones.

“You sleep okay?” she tries again.

“Fine.”

Undeterred, she continues. “Well, I didn’t want’a wake you. I figured you could use it.” When she only gets an aloof look in return, she sighs. “God, what?”

“I’ve been thinking ‘bout the man we left behind.” He waits, knowing she’ll understand eventually.

“You’re not serious.”

He clenches his jaw, but is stopped from saying anything by the sound of a car tearing up the gravel hill. They turn and watch as Shane pulls up in a black Jeep. “Water’s here, y’all,” he says loudly as he parks the jeep and turns it off. “Just a reminder to boil before use.” Rick raises his hand in a half-assed wave when Shane looks at them before turning back to Lori.

She looks up at him. “Are you asking me, or telling me?”

“Telling. I don’t need your permission, but I know Carl won’t be happy, so I thought you had a right to know.”

“Well,” she starts, angry at him. “I think it’s crazy. I think it is just the stupidest way to break your—” Whatever she was say next was interrupted by a scream.

“Mom!” their son’s voice yells.

“Carl?!” Lori shouts as they take off in the direction of the screams.

“Dad!” Carl yells.

Carl and Sophia are both yelling by now, and Rick pauses as Glenn catches his attention and throws him a weapon. Lori continues yelling, and Rick wants to tell her to stop, they don’t need to attract any walkers, but his mind is too preoccupied with getting to his pup.

“I’ve got ‘em, I’ve got ‘em,” Lori repeats as she holds their son, and Rick continues on to find what had the kids so scared.

The men with weapons file into a small round clearing to find a walker feasting on a deer. They surround it, weapons at the ready, and watch as it tears the deer apart. When it notices them, the walker stands and spins around, going for Rick first. The alpha doesn’t let it take more than two steps before he’s bringing the long pole in his hands, down on the walker’s head. Rick, Shane, Glenn, Morales, Jim, and Dale take turns hitting the walker with various weapons. Finally, Dale uses his axe to chop the head off, and the rest of them back off.

“It’s the first one we’ve had up here,” Dale says. “They never come this far up the mountain.”

“Well they’re runnin’ outta food in the city, that’s what,” Jim points out.

Branches snap off to the side and they all spin, weapons raised. They wait and watch anxiously, until a man steps into view, holding a crossbow. He looks up, surprised by the weaponized audience and Shane says, “Oh, Jesus.”

“Son of a bitch,” the mystery man says, an omega it seems, which maybe should surprise Rick, but doesn’t. “That’s my deer!” He walks up to the deer and begins taking his anger out on it. “Look at it, all gnawed on by this… filthy,” -kick- “disease-bearing,” -kick- “motherless” -kick- “poxy bastard!” he finishes with a final kick to the deer.

Rick can’t help but be amused by the man in front of him, dressed in rags, carrying a crossbow, and cursing out a dead walker.

“Calm down, son. That’s not helping,” Dales says, placating. Rick cringes, already knowing that town isn’t going to go over to well, and he was right.

“What do you know about it, old man?” he asks as he gets in Dales face. “Why don’t you take that stupid hat and go back to ‘On Golden Pond’?” He turns back to the deer, pulling out the bolts and sighs, “I’ve been tracking this deer for miles. Gonna drag it back to camp, cook us up some venison. What d’you think? Do you think we can cut around this chewed up part here?” he asks, pointing to the hole in the deer’s neck caused by the walker.

“I would not risk that,” Shane says.

He sighs again. “That’s a damn shame. I got some squirrel- about a dozen or so,” he says, jostling said squirrels that are attached to a rope hanging off his shoulder. “That’ll have to do.” The decapitated walker head on the ground starts moving and as a couple women whimper and gag, the male omega just scoffs. “Come on, people. What the hell?” He aims his crossbow and fires a bolt through its eye. A boot on the head, he pulls the bolt back out and says, “It’s gotta be the brain. Don’t y’all know nothin’?”

The omega passes Rick who is both amused and intrigued by the man. He also has a really bad feeling about who the man is, and hopes to god he’s wrong.

Rick’s hopes are dashed when the next word out of the omega’s mouth is to call, “Merle! Merle! Get your ugly ass out here! I got us some squirrel! Let’s stew ‘em up.”

Everyone follows him up towards the RV, and Shane speaks up. “Daryl, just slow up a bit. I need to talk to you.”

Weary, Daryl asks, “About what?”

“About Merle. There was a- uh- there was a problem in Atlanta.”

Daryl looks around to find everyone watching him. “He dead?” he asks, the softest voice he’s used so far, and Rick’s heart breaks a little bit. The confidant, loud, omega is slipping away, and in its place is a little boy looking for his big brother.

“We’re not sure,” Shane tells him.

This makes him angry, and Rick is glad, happy to see that fire back in his eyes, and strangely prideful of the omega’s strength. “He either is or he ain’t!”

Rick steps forward, careful not to portray any dominance. He knows that would be a bad idea with the spitfire in front of him. “No easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it.”

Daryl turns to the alpha, and Rick almost falters in his step when those bright blue eyes focus on him. Instead, he soldiers on. “Rick Grimes.”

Defensive and boxed-in like a beaten animal, Daryl lashes out. “Rick Grimes. You got somethin’ you wanna tell me?”

Trying to be rational, not knowing Daryl enough to know the best way to break it to him, Rick explains, “Your brother was a danger to us all, so I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal. He’s still there.”

Daryl turns away, trying to discreetly wipe his eyes, and Rick’s heart does break then. “Hold on, let me process this. You’re saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof, and left him there?!”

Rick can only give him the truth. “Yeah.”

Rick would be lying if he said he wasn’t expecting a punch, but he honestly never expected Daryl to throw the squirrels at him. Rick’s able to duck out of the way, and before Daryl can reach him, Shane tackles the hunter from the side. This makes T-Dog drop the wood he was carrying and Daryl to pull a knife from his belt.

“Watch the knife,” T-Dog shouts as Daryl takes a swing at Rick with it. Rick back’s up and grabs the wrist as it comes back around. As soon as Rick’s skin touches Daryl’s, he’s hit with a barrage of emotions: anger, despair, fear, hopelessness, guilt. It goes on and on. It’s enough to cause Rick to let go, cutting any connection, but Shane’s already got an arm around his throat.

Daryl obviously isn’t doing much better if the way he dropped the knife and stopped fighting was any indication. It doesn’t last long though, and he’s soon trying to get out of Shane’s hold again. “You’d best let me go!”

“Nah,” Shane says, unconcerned. “I think it’s better if I don’t.”

“Choke hold’s illegal,” Daryl argues as he’s slowly lowered to the ground.

“You can file a complaint. Come on, man. We’ll keep this up all day.”

Ignoring what just passed between him and Daryl for the moment, Rick works on calming the omega down. He crouches down so he can look Daryl in the eye, careful not to touch him. “I’d like to have a calm discussion on this topic. Do you think we can manage that? Do you think we can manage that?”

A slight nod from Daryl, and Shane lets go, shoving him to the side. Rick is hit by the urge to snarl at Shane for the mistreatment, but forces it down, focusing on Daryl.

The omega rests on the ground, panting and wheezing. Rick gets close again, without touching. “What I did was not on a whim,” he says desperately, hoping to get the man to see reason. Your brother does not work and play well with others.”

Daryl’s just managed to calm down a bit with T-Dog speaks up. “It’s not Rick’s fault. I had the key. I dropped it.”

“And you couldn’t pick it up?” he asks, his anger spiking hot again.

“Well, I dropped it in a drain.”

Daryl’s head drops, a few rough breaths are taken, obviously trying to stay strong. He stands up, throwing some dirt at T-Dog’s feet. “It it’s supposed to make me feel better, it don’t.”

“Maybe this will,” T-Dog says as he keeps his distance. “Look, I chained the door to the roof so the geeks couldn’t get at him- with a padlock.”

“It’s gotta count for something,” Rick says, hopeful.

Daryl looks at Rick and their eyes lock. Rick tries to portray his honesty and remorse, hoping Daryl will at least try to understand the position they were in. Ultimately, he wants Daryl to trust him, but Rick knows that’ll take time and effort. Their first impressions aren’t exactly helping either.

Daryl sniffles, wiping his eyes again, before pulling his walls up, harder and meaner than Rick’s seen them so far. “Hell with all y’all! Just tell me where he is so’s I can go get ‘em,” he begs, his voice vulnerable even if his actions and facial expressions aren’t.

“He’ll show you,” Lori speaks up from the door of the RV. “Isn’t that right?” Her tone is scornful and a little jealous. It makes Rick wonder what she’s picked up from Rick and Daryl’s interaction.

When Daryl looks to Rick, he nods. “I’m goin’ back.” Daryl gives an almost imperceptible nod back before stalking away to deal with the squirrels, his movements angry.

It’s not even an hour later when Rick comes out of his ten, dressed in his freshly washed uniform, and is met by Shane. “So that’s it, huh? You’re just gonna walk off? Just to hell with everybody else?”

“Nah, I’m not saying to hell with anybody. Not you Shane; Carl least of all,” Rick says as he walks away.

“What about Lori?” Shane calls out.

Rick stops and looks over his shoulder at Shane, his face stony and cold, and says, “Well, she’s got you, ain’t that right?” While Shane is stunned speechless, Rick turns and continues walking away.

“I don’t understand, Rick. So could you just, could you throw me a bone here, man? Could you just tell me ‘why’? Why would you risk your life for a douche bag like Merle Dixon?”

“Hey- choose your words more carefully,” Daryl speaks up.

Barely sparing Daryl a glance, he says, “No, I did. Douche bag’s what I meant. Merle Dixon—” Shane snorts derisively. “The guy wouldn’t give you a glass of water if you were dyin’ of thirst.”

“What he would or wouldn’t do doesn’t interest me,” Rick says. “I can’t let a man die of thirst. Me. Thirst an exposure. We left him like an animal, caught in a trap. That’s no way for anything to die, let alone a human being.”

“So, you and Daryl? That’s your big plan?” Lori asks incredulously.

Not answering, Rick turns to Glenn, expectant. It takes the beta a minute, but he gets there. “Oh, come on.”

“You know the way. You’ve been there before- in and out, no problem. You said so yourself. It’s not fair of me to ask- I know that, but I’d feel a lot better with you along. I know he would too,” Rick says, gesturing to Carl.

“That’s just great,” Shane says sarcastically. “Now you’re gonna risk three men, huh?”

“Four,” T-Dog volunteers.

Daryl huffs. “My day just gets better and better, don’t it?”

“You see anybody else here stepping up to save your brother’s cracker ass?”

Part of Rick wants to defend Daryl, but the other part of him agrees with T-Dog. He only hopes Daryl’s racist comments are a part of his defense mechanism. He wouldn’t be surprised if it’s just another way for him to lash out, trying to protect himself.

“Why you?” he asks in a more childish tone, knowing T-Dog’s right.

“You wouldn’t even begin to understand. You don’t speak my language,” T-Dog says, throwing Merle’s words at Daryl.

“That’s four,” Dale says.

“It’s not just four,” Shane says. “You’re putting every single one of us at risk. Just know that, Rick. Come on, you saw that walker. It was here. It was in camp. They’re moving outta the cities. They come back, we need every able body we’ve got. We need ‘em here. We need ‘em to protect camp.”

Not backing down to Shane’s alpha posturing, “It seems to me, what you really need most here… are more guns.”

“Right,” Glenn speaks up. “The guns.”

“Wait, what guns?” Shane asks.

“Six shot guns, two high-powered rifles, over a dozen handguns. I cleaned out the cage back at the station before I left. I dropped the bag in Atlanta when I got swarmed. It’s just sittin’ there on the street, waitin’ to be picked up.”

Calming down, Shane asks, “Ammo?”

“700 rounds, assorted.” This makes Shane take a deep breath, considering.

“You went through hell to find us. You just got here and you’re gonna turn around and leave?” Lori asks.

Carl looks at his father. “Dad, I-I don’t want you to go.”

“To hell with the guns. Shane is right,” she says, and Rick almost snorts. Of course she’s gonna side with her lover. “Merle Dixon? He’s not worth one of your lives, even with guns thrown in. Tell me. Make me understand.”

Rick just stares at Lori, knowing that telling her the real reason -that he wanted to save Merle because Daryl loves him- would only make things worse. “That man -cracker, racist, scumbag, knothead- whatever you want to call him, is in the middle of Atlanta, handcuffed to a roof because of me. And if by some miracle, you convinced me he wouldn’t be worth the effort, I’d still tell you, you were wrong. Because that man has a brother. It’s not Daryl’s fault his brother is the way he is, so I’m gonna do this for him, if for no one else.” Briefly, Rick’s eyes flick towards the male omega and sees the shock on his face before looking back towards Lori.

“And if that’s still not enough? Then how about because I owe a man I met, and his little boy. If they hadn’t taken me in, I’d have died. It’s because of him I made it here at all. They said they’d follow me to Atlanta. They’ll walk into the same trap I did If I don’t warn him.”

“What’s stopping you?” she asks petulantly.

“The walkie-talkie, the one in the bag I dropped. He’s got the other one. Our plan was to connect when they got closer.”

“These are our walkies?” Shane asks, his hand rubbing at his stubble.

“Yeah,” Rick answers as he looks at the other alpha.

“So use the C.B. What’s wrong with that?” Andrea asks.

“The C.B.’s fine,” Shane explains. “It’s the walkies that suck to crap- date back to the ‘70s, don’t match any other bandwidth- not even the scanners in our cars.”

“I need that bag,” Rick tells them as he crouches down next to Carl. “Okay?” he asks the boy. Carl nods and Rick whispers, “All right.” Rick places his hand on the pup’s neck in comfort before standing. The four men start preparing right away.

As Glenn backs up the moving truck into position, Rick asks Dale for a favor. “Rumor is you have bolt cutters.”

“Maybe,” the older beta says, suspicious.

“Yeah,” T-Dog says, “we get to that roof, though, we’ll need to cut that chain and the handcuffs.”

“I never like lending tools. Last time I did- and yes, I am talking about you—” he says pointing at T-Dog. “Let’s just say your bag of guns wasn’t the only bag that was dropped. My tools got left behind, with Merle.”

“We’ll bring your tools back too,” Rick assures the man. “Think of the bolt cutters as an, investment.”

“Sounds like more of a gamble,” Dale mutters, but grabs the bolt cutters to hand over. Dale pauses before letting T-Dog take them. “What do I get in return?” he asks Rick.

“What do you want?”

“How about one of those guns you bring back? My pick.”

“Done.”

Again, before Dale hands them over, he’s stopped. Jim, who’s resting against the RV behind the older man, clears his throat. “Dale, lets… sweeten the deal a bit. Now that cube van of yours…”

Impatient, Rick asks, “What about it?”

“The RV’s radiator hose is shot. That’s a problem if we need to get somewhere and wanna get very far,” the man’s voice drones. “And the hose on that van is just about a perfect match. Well, enough that I can make it fit.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Rick says with an indulgent smile. “We get back, you can strip that van down to the bare metal.”

The horn honks on said van behind Rick, and Dale hands the bolt cutters over with a smile. “Come on, let’s go!” Daryl yells from the back of the cube truck, after having honked the horn with his foot in impatience.

“Thank you,” Rick tells Dale.

“Hey Rick,” Shane calls out as the alpha passes him. “You got any rounds in the Python?”

“No,” Rick says as Shane starts digging through a duffle bag.

“Last time we were on the gun range, I’m sure I wound up with a few loose rounds of yours.”

Rick can’t help but chuckle. “You and that bag- like the bottom of an old lady’s purse.”

“I hate that you’re doing this, man. I think that it’s foolish and reckless,” Shane says and before Rick has time to really get mad again, he continues, “but if you’re gonna go, you’re taking bullets.”

Still annoyed, Rick says evenly, “I’m not sure I’d wanna fire a shot in the city, not after what happened last time.”

“That’s up to you. Well…” Shane says as he holds the bullets to the Python. “Four men, four rounds. What are the odds, huh? Well, let’s just hope that, uh- let’s just hope four is your lucky number, okay?”

Not sure what to say or how to feel, all Rick answers with is, “Thank you.”

“All right,” Shane says, and Rick walks away with a nod, and gets into the passenger seat of the truck, next to Glenn.

With all four men in the truck, Daryl pulls down the back door and Glenn starts the engine, driving away from camp. The drive is mad in silence, Glenn already knowing the way.

It’s only when they pull up just outside of downtown, that Daryl speaks up. “He’d better be okay,” he says to T-Dog. “It’s my only word on the matter.”

“I told you the geeks can’t get at ‘em. The only thing that’s gonna get through that door is us.”

Neither of them say anything else and Glenn parks the truck, turns in his seat and tells them, “We walk from here.”

Glenn leads them to a gap in the fence and as they climb through, Rick asks the group, even knowing how well it’s not going to go with Daryl, “Merle first, or guns?”

“Merle!” Daryl shouts, angry with Rick for even suggesting otherwise. “We ain’t even havin’ this conversation.”

“We are,” Rick says calmly, rationally. He turns to Glenn. “You know the geography, it’s your call.”

Thankfully, Glenn agrees with Daryl. “Merle first. The guns would mean doubling back. Merle first.”

The trip to the store building is uneventful thankfully. When they finally make it inside, there’s one walker, and Rick signals Daryl to take it out, his crossbow being the quieter weapon.

Daryl aims the bow. “Damn. You are one ugly skank.” With that said, he lets the bolt fly, hitting its mark. He retrieves the arrow and they move quickly to the stairs, climbing the steps as fast as they can to the roof. They don’t run into any other walkers, but find the door still chained, hopefully meaning Merle is safe.

Rick steps back and signals T-Dog to cut the padlock. When he gets the chain off, Daryl kicks open the door, yelling, “Merle! Merle!” in a deep, gravel-y voice.

What they find has Rick sucking in a deep breath, and his heart once again breaking for the omega as he screams with pain, “No! No!” Daryl looks a T-Dog, but can’t say anything, too filled with pain and anger. “No!” he yells again as he paces around, staring at the bloody saw and amputated hand laying on the ground below Rick’s police issued handcuffs, now covered in blood too.

            “No! No!” is all Daryl can say, over and over.

            Eventually, Daryl goes quiet, and Rick waits anxiously for the explosion. Before, the anger was at the situation, now comes the blame. So, Rick’s not surprised when Daryl swings around, aiming his crossbow at T-Dog.

            Rick’s first instinct is to draw his gun, and he does, but he doesn’t point it at Daryl, just leaves it hanging at his side, ready if need be. He doesn’t want to be perceived as a threat, cornering Daryl. And honestly, Rick doesn’t believe Daryl would be able to pull the trigger. “You shoot him, Daryl, and I’m gonna have to put you down. Now, I don’t wanna do that. I didn’t ask Glenn to come out here and risk his life, just so we could kill each other. We have enough problems as it is. I understand that you’re angry, and you have every right to be, but killing T-Dog’s not gonna change what happened to Merle. So, we can either save the walkers the hassle and kill each other now, or we can handle this calmly and rationally. Your choice.”

            By the time Rick’s done talking, Daryl has calmed down, and he lowers his bow slowly. T-Dog lets out a sigh of relief and Daryl asks him, “You got a do-rag or somethin’?”

            Slowly, not wanting to anger him, T-Dog reaches into one of his pants pockets and pulls out a rag, handing it to the omega. Daryl takes the rag and sets his bow down, before walking over to the dead hand. He kneels on the ground and lays the rag down neatly. Carefully he picks the hand up and examines it, before setting it on the cloth, saying sensibly, “I guess the saw blade was too dull for the handcuffs. Ain’t that a bitch.” He lets out a sigh, carefully folding the hand up in the rag and picks it up.

“Here, here,” he says breathlessly as he approaches Glenn, motioning him to turn. He flips the flap of Glenn’s backpack up, and puts the hand inside. The others make faces, but don’t complain, knowing they’re treading on thin ground as it is.

“He must have used a tourniquet- maybe his belt,” Daryl continues. He picks his crossbow back up and points to the small puddles on the ground. “Be much more blood it he didn’t.”

Daryl starts following the blood trail, tracking his brother like he would a wounded animal in the woods. Rick and Glenn follow him without question, while T-Dog collects Dale’s tools. Daryl follows the blood to a second door on the roof. He enters it, bow raised, and Rick follows him, falling into step effortlessly, backing him up.

“Merle?!” Daryl calls out, as they stand at the top of the stairs. “You in here?!”

By the time they make it to the ground floor, T-Dog’s caught up with them and there’s still no sign of Merle. They search the office spaces and halls, Rick and Daryl easily taking the lead together, Glenn in the middle, and T-Dog at the rear.

Daryl only has to put one walker down before they find two, already dead. “Had enough in ‘em to take out these two sumbitches. One handed. Toughest asshole I ever met, my brother,” he grinds out as he reloads his crossbow. “Feed him a hammer, he’d crap out nails.”
            Not wanting to be an asshole, but not wanting Daryl to get his hopes too high, he points to the continuing trail. “Any man can pass out from blood loss, no matter how tough he is,” he says quietly.

They pick up the trail and Daryl yells out again, “Merle!”

Getting close, but careful not to touch, Rick reminds him softly, “We’re not alone here. Remember?”

Impatient, Daryl says, “Screw that. He could be bleedin’ out. You said so yourself.” The room they enter next looks like a kitchen, flames from burners turned up high, blood, and what looks like a melted belt.

“What’s that burned stuff?” Glenn asks quietly as Rick picks up some kind of metal press or stamp.

“Skin,” Rick says, grudgingly impressed. “He cauterized the stump.” This causes Glenn’s face to scrunch up, obviously regretting his question.

“Told you he was tough,” Daryl tells Rick. “Nobody can kill Merle, but Merle.”

“Don’t take that on faith,” Rick says cautiously. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”

“Yeah?” Daryl asks as he moves over to a window, a broken window. “Didn’t stop him from busting out of this death trap.”

“He left the building?” Glenn asks incredulously. “Why the hell would he do that.”

“Why wouldn’t he? He’s out there alone as far as he knows…doin’ what he’s gotta do- survivin’.”

“You call that survivin’?” T-Dog asks, unable to stay quiet any longer. “Just, wandering out in the streets, maybe passing out? What’re his odds out there?”

Defensive of his brother, Daryl gets in T-Dog’s face again. “No worse than being handcuffed and left to rot by you sorry pricks.” He moves to Rick. “You couldn’t kill him. Ain’t so worried about some dumb dead bastard.”

“What about 1,000 dumb dead bastards?” Rick asks, raising an eyebrow. “Different story?”

“Why don’t you take a tally? Do what you want. I’m gonna go get him.”

“Daryl, wait,” Rick says as he puts a hand against his chest to stop Daryl from passing. They both gasp as Rick’s pinky brushes the skin of Daryl’s neck above his wife beater. For the second time that day, Rick’s hit with emotions that aren’t his: anger, fear, confusion, distress, panic, dread. The list goes on.

“Get your hands off me!” Daryl yells on reflex, the emotions Rick felt, reflected on the omega’s face. Shaking his head, Daryl continues, “You can’t stop me!”

Careful not to touch again, Rick looks at him, pleading with his eyes. “I don’t blame you,” he says sincerely. “He’s family. I get that. I went through hell to find my pup. “I know exactly how you feel,” -literally even- “He can’t get far with that injury. We could help you check a few blocks around, but only if we keep a level head.”

Staring into the alpha’s eyes and seeing the earnestness in them, Daryl deliberately looks away, tipping his head to the side, and says “I could do that.”

It was quick enough that the others missed it, but Rick almost gasped at the show of trust he wasn’t sure he deserved. Rick nodded back automatically, dazed. 

Unaware of what they just witnessed, T-Dog speaks up. “Only if we get those guns first. I’m not strollin’ the streets of Atlanta with just my good intentions, okay?”

In full agreement, Rick turns to Glenn, deferring to the beta’s knowledge and lead. Without a word, Glenn walks away, searching for a room that has what he needs.

Glenn’s not even hallway through his plan when Rick speaks up. “You’re not doin’ this alone.”

Nodding, Daryl agrees, making Rick feel stupidly pleased. “Even I think it’s a bad idea and I don’t even like you much.” There goes the pleased feeling, in its place, something more amused.

“It’s a good idea, okay?” Glenn insists. “If you just hear me out. If we go out there in a group, we’re slow, drawing attention. If I’m alone, I can move fast. Look,” he says using his drawn-out map of the streets on the floor. “That’s the tank. Five blocks from where we are now. That’s the bag of guns. Here’s the alley I dragged you into when we first met. That’s where Daryl and I will go.”

Surprised, Daryl asks, “Why me?”

“Your crossbow is quieter than his gun,” he explains, nodding his head to Rick. Daryl nods in understanding and Glenn continues. “While Daryl waits here in the alley, I run up the street, grab the bag.”

“You got us elsewhere?” Rick asks.

“You and T-Dog, right,” he says thinking. “You’ll be in this alley here.”

“Two blocks away. Why?” the alpha asks.

“I may not be able to come back the same way. Walkers might cut me off. If that happens, I won’t go back to Daryl. I’ll go forward instead, all the way around to that alley where you guys are. Whichever direction I go, I got you in both places to cover me.” Rick nods. “Afterwards we’ll all meet back here.”

“Hey, kid,” Daryl says. “What’d you do before all this?”

“Delivered pizzas. Why?” Glenn asks, confused.

Rick and Daryl share a look, impressed and a little amused by the way he’s ignorant of his own talent.

Secure in their roles, the four men move out, breaking off into pairs. Rick gives Daryl and Glenn a nod before leading T-Dog to their spot. It’s a few blocks away, but they don’t run into any trouble. They aren’t there long when they hear a voice yell, “Ayudame! Ayudame! Ayudame!”

Sharing a look, Rick and T-Dog back track two blocks to Daryl’s position. They turn the corner running, just in time to see a young boy getting to his feet, and Daryl up against the fence yelling, walkers on the other side and the bag of guns at his feet. Daryl shoves the boy up against the wall in anger and Rick gets between them yelling “Woah, woah, woah! Stop it!”

As he’s shoved back by Rick’s hand on his chest, Daryl yells, “I’m gonna kick your nuts up in your throat!”

On a hunch, Rick moves his hand to Daryl’s neck in a hope to calm him down. It works and Daryl freezes. Once is an incident, twice is a coincidence, and three time’s a pattern. Rick has a pretty good idea what it means when he’s hit with foreign emotions for the third time, but it’s not the time to dwell.

Assuming Daryl’s going through the same thing, feeling Rick’s emotions too, he squeezes the omega’s neck, forcing eye contact. When he sees the apprehension in Daryl’s eyes, the same question Rick’s asking himself, the alpha nods. “I know,” Rick says lowly, glancing over his shoulder to make sure T-Dog’s handling the kid. Seeing that the beta has it handled, Rick turns back to the man under his hand. “Later. We’ll talk, but now’s not the time. So, I need you to tell me what happened, okay?”

Taking a deep breath, Daryl nods and Rick drops his hand. “They took Glenn. That little bastard,” he spits, pointing at the small omega boy, Rick following his finger, and Daryl continues, “and his little bastard friends. I’m gonna stomp your ass,” he tells the kid.

T-Dog, his eyes focused on the collapsing fence behind Rick and Daryl, starts yelling, “Guys! Guys! We’re cut off!”

“Get to the lab! Go!” Rick shouts at T-Dog.

Rick moves to pick up the gun bag and pauses.

“Come on. Damn, let’s go!” Daryl yells, waiting for Rick.

Rick bends over and quickly picks up his uniform hat, amazed that Glenn grabbed it with the bag. He doesn’t bother putting it on, just holds it and runs, Daryl right behind him.

When they get to the lab, they secure to room and sit the boy in a metal chair. Getting to the point, Rick starts questioning him. “Those men you were with, we need to know where they went.”

“I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’.”

“Jesus, man,” T-Dog says, “What the hell happened back there?”

“I told you,” Daryl says, agitated, pacing, “this little turd and his douchebag friends came out of nowhere and jumped me.”

Hearing this, Rick has to fight the urge to snarl at the boy before stripping Daryl to make sure he’s okay.

Thankfully no one picked up on his thoughts and the boy replies, annoyed. “You’re the one who jumped me, puta. Screamin’ ‘bout tryin’ t’find his brother like it’s my damn fault.”

“They took Glenn, could have taken Merle too,” Daryl points out reasonably.

“Merle? What kind of hick name is that? I wouldn’t name my dog Merle,” the boy tells Daryl spitefully.

In retaliation, Daryl tries to kick the boy. Rick steps in between them again, shoving him back. “Damn it, Daryl. Back off.” Rick uses a bit more of his alpha voice this time. He understands Daryl’s anger, but they need to move quickly, and Rick wishes he’d use the anger a little more productively.

Rick waits for Daryl to calm down, to subtly submit, before letting him go. Thinking a little more clearly, Daryl moves to Glenn’s backpack that was left behind. He opens it, pulling out Merle’s hand, and unwraps it. “Want to see what happened to the last guy that pissed me off?” He glances a Rick, and getting the nod of approval, turns, and tosses the hand in the kids lap.

The kid screams, scrambling out of his chair, and Daryl follows him, putting his hands around the omega’s neck. “Start with the feet this time.”

Rick lays his hand on Daryl’s neck, forcing feelings of calm through to the omega, hoping he’ll back off a bit. He tugs on the back of Daryl’s shirt and the other man let’s himself be moved. The alpha takes his place in front of the kid and tells him, “The men you were with took our friend. All we want to do is talk to them, see if we can work something out.”

The boy can only nod, freaked out by Daryl’s actions and words. The boy does as he’s told and leads them to where his friends are holding Glenn.

When they get there, Rick instructs T-Dog to provide cover on a nearby roof with one of the rifles they got back in the bag. “You sure you’re up for this?” Rick asks the beta.

“Yeah,” T-Dog replies.

“Okay.”

With that, T-Dog leaves with the other guns and Daryl tells the younger omega, “One wrong move, you get an arrow in the ass. Just so you know.”

Unconcerned, the boy retorts smugly, “G’s gonna take that arrow out of my ass and shove it up yours. Just so you know.”

“G?” Rick asks.

“Guillermo. He’s the man here.”

“Okay then,” Rick says as he pumps his shotgun, looking up at Daryl. “Let’s go see Guillermo.” They slip through a fenced in window and cautiously approach the large, rusted, metal doors of this brick building. The people inside obviously have people watching, because the doors slide open without Rick’s group making a sound.

Rick’s careful to keep the kid in front of him, the shotgun pointed at his back and Daryl backing the alpha up. The person who walks out to meet them doesn’t look a whole lot older than the omega boy. This alpha looks to the kid and asks, “You okay little man?”

“They’re gonna cut off my feet, Carnal.”

“Cops do that?” the man asks Rick.

“Not him,” the kid says, gesturing to Rick before doing the same to Daryl and telling him, “This redneck puta here. He cut off some dude’s hand, man. He showed it to me.”

“Shut up,” Daryl tells the kid.

“Hey,” a bald, beta calls out as he joins them, pointing a revolver at Daryl. “That’s that vato right there, homes. He shot me in the ass with an arrow. What’s up with that, homes?”

The first man, presumably Guillermo, holds his hand out to his man and says, “Chill, ese, chill. Chill.” He looks at Rick. “This true? He wants Miguelito’s feet? That’s pretty sick, man.”

“We were hoping more for a calm discussion,” Rick says.

“That hillbilly jumps Felipe’s little cousin, beats on him, threatens to cut off his feet, Felipe gets an arrow in the ass, and you want a calm discussion? You fascinate me.”

“Heat of the moment,” Rick claims. “Mistakes were made, on both sides.”

“Who’s that dude to you anyway? You don’t look related,” he states, gesturing to Daryl.

Rick had to force himself not to admit the truth, that Daryl was his mate, which was his first impulse. Though part of him wanted to shout it to what was left of the world, he didn’t want to claim Daryl without talking to him first. Besides, he didn’t want to give this man any more ammunition to use against them. So, what he forces himself to say is, “He’s one of our group, more or less.” Definitely more, he thinks to himself. “I’m sure you have a few like him.” Like him, maybe. But no one compares to Daryl, not really.

Not taking offense, Daryl asks the man, “You got my brother in there?”

“Sorry,” Guillermo says sarcastically. “We’re fresh out of white boys. But I’ve got Asian. You interested?”

“I have one of yours, you have one of mine. Sounds like an even trade,” Rick says.

“Don’t sound even to me.”

“G,” the boy pleads. “Come on, man.”

“My people got attacked. Where’s the compensation for their pain and suffering? More to the point, where’s my bag of guns?”

“Guns?”

“The bag Miguel saw in the street. The bag Felipe and Jorge were going back to get. That bag of guns.”

“You’re mistaken,” Rick tells the other alpha.

“I don’t think so.”

“About it being yours,” Rick clarifies. “It’s my bag of guns.”

“The bag was in the street. Anybody could come around and say it was theirs. I’m supposed to take your word? What’s to stop my people from unloading on you right here and now and I take what’s mine?” By the time he’s finished, all of his men have raised their weapons.

“You could do that,” Rick agrees before looking up at the roof to his left where T-Dog’s standing with a rifle pointed. “Or not.”

“Oye!” the man yells, and they look up at the building his men are in, to find two of his guys holding a third person with a bag over their head. The bag is removed to reveal Glenn, bound and gagged, barely held back from the ledge.

Rick clenches his jaw, angry at being out-maneuvered.

“I see two options. You come back with Miguel and my bag of guns, everybody walks. Or you come back locked and loaded, we’ll see which side spills more blood.” He glances at T-Dog, smirks at Rick, and turns, walking away, unconcerned about showing his back.

Rick and Daryl watch the men move back inside and close the doors, their weapons pointed the entire time. With no other options, the four of them head back to the lab.

“Them guns are worth more ‘an gold,” Daryl says as he paces, watching Rick remove some of the guns and ammo from the bag. “Gold won’t protect your family or put food on the table. You willing t’give that up for that kid?”

“If I knew we’d get Glenn back, I might agree. But you think that vato across the way is just gonna hand him over?”

“You calling G a liar?” Miguel asks.

“Are you a part of this?” Daryl asks rhetorically. He smacks the boy upside his head. “You want to hold onto your teeth?”

“Question is, do you trust that man’s word?” T-Dog asks Rick.

“No,” Daryl says. “Question is what are you willing to bet on it? Could be more ‘an them guns. Could be your life,” he points out worriedly. “Glenn worth that to you?”

“What life I have I owe to him. I was nobody to Glenn, just some idiot stuck in a tank. He could have walked away, but he didn’t. Neither will I,” He pauses, debating on whether or not to say the next part in front of the others. Fuck it. Like Daryl said, this might kill me. “Glenn’s the only reason I made it back to camp. Without him, I never would have met you.” He hopes that’s enough for Daryl. Hopes that he sees why this is so important to him. Not that he wouldn’t save Glenn anyway, but he owes that boy everything.

T-Dog doesn’t know enough to get the hidden message, just dismissing the last sentence, not wanting to get involved. Daryl though, he got it. Understanding a little better, the omega asks, “So, what’s the plan? You gonna hand the guns over?”

“I didn’t say that.” He pauses, looking to both Daryl and T-Dog. “There’s nothing keeping you two here. You should get out, head back to camp.”

“Not without you,” Daryl says quietly enough for only Rick’s ears, at the same time T-Dog asks rhetorically, “And tell your family what?”

Rick stares at Daryl, gratitude in his eyes even if a small part of him hoped he’d take the out so he’d be safe. Daryl nods at Rick. Safe’s overrated anyway. Especially during the apocalypse, the alpha thinks.

The three men start stocking up and the young omega stands and complains, “Come on, this is nuts.” Daryl pushes him back down to the floor and the kid drops his head back against the wall. “Just do like G says.

They ignore Miguel and continue loading up, preparing for a gun fight as best as they can. When they arrive for the second time that day, Miguel is bound and gagged, and all three men are behind him.

The doors open, and Daryl shoves the kid forward, following him into the building and past their guards. The doors are shut behind them, and then Rick, Daryl, and T-Dog are surrounded, weapons raised.

“I see my guns but they’re not all in the bag,” Guillermo says.

“That’s because they’re not yours,” Rick says simply, hat on his head, and shotgun in his hands. “I thought I mentioned that.”

“Let’s just shoot these fools right now, ese,” Felipe tells his alpha. All right? Unload on their asses, ese.”

Guillermo raises his and to silence Filipe and tells Rick, “I don’t think you fully appreciate the gravity of the situation.”

“No, I’m pretty clear,” Rick replies before cutting Miguel’s bound hands and shoving him forward. “You have your man. I want mine.”

Angrily, Guillermo gets in Ricks face. “I’m gonna chop up your boy. I’m gonna feed him to my dogs. They’re the evilest, nastiest man-eating bitches you ever saw. I picked ‘em up from Satan at a yard sale. I told you how it has to be. Are you woefully deaf?”

“No, my hearing’s fine. You said come locked and loaded.” Rick pumps his shotgun, and raises it, pointing at the other alpha’s head, Daryl and T-Dog firing his lead, Guillermo’s men following. “Okay then, we’re here.”

Rick and Guillermo’s stare down is interrupted by a woman’s voice yelling, “Felipe! Felipe!”

A little old woman with a Hispanic accent cuts through the group of Guillermo’s men, looking for the bald beta. “Abuela,” the man calls to her. “Go back with the others- now!”

Nervous, Daryl yells, “Get that old lady out of the line of fire!”

“Abuela, listen to your Mijo, okay?” Guillermo says, looking over his shoulder at her. “This is not the place for you right now.”

“Mr. Gilbert is having trouble breathing,” she says worried, ignoring their orders. “He- he needs his asthma stuff. Carlito didn’t find it. He needs his medicine.”

Impatient, Guillermo looks back and for the between them and Rick, before focusing on his man. “Felipe, go take care of it, okay? And take your grandmother with you.”

Felipe tries to lead her away, but she catches sight of Rick in his uniform and asks, pointing at him, “Who are those men? Don’t you take him,” she tells Rick, getting closer.

“Ma’am?” Rick asks, unsure of what’s happening.

“Felipe’s a good boy. He have his trouble, but he pull himself together. We need him here.”

Gun lowered, Rick leans in closer to her. “Ma’am, I’m not here to arrest your grandson.”

“Then what do you want him for?”

“He’s…” Rick pauses, trying to come up with something other than ‘you’re grandson helped kidnap our friend and we’re willing to kill to get him back.’ Rick had a feeling that wouldn’t go over to well. “Helping us find a missing person,” he finishes finally. “A fella named Glenn.”

“The Asian boy?” she asks with a smile. “He’s with Mr. Gilbert. Come. Come, I show you,” she tells Rick as she takes one of his hands, tugging on it.

Rick looks to Guillermo, and exasperated and defeated, the other alpha says to his men, “Let ‘em pass.”

Guardedly, Rick, Daryl, and T-Dog follow the little old lady back through the fortress, and to where Glenn’s being held. By the time they enter the next building -a nursing home by the looks of it- the three men are befuddled.

“Abuela, por favor. Take me to him,” Felipe tells his grandmother. She lets go of Rick’s hand and takes her grandson’s leaving Rick to follow more sedately, trying to make sense of his surroundings. The elderly take up the rooms and hallways they pass, and the polite southern man Rick is, takes his hat off and stays quiet.

They follow the two family members into a gym area, tables set up with people eating food or play games, and over to a group of people standing in a circle. They watch as Felipe holds out an inhaler to an older man in a wheel chair, helping him breath. Glenn stands off to the side, watching, completely unharmed.

“What the hell is this?” Rick asks Glenn, incensed.

“An asthma attack,” the beta answers seriously. “Couldn’t get his breath all of a sudden.”

“I thought you were being eaten by dogs, man,” T-Dog says, irritated.

Glenn just looks over his shoulder, and they follow his line of sight, noticing for the first time, the chihuahuas sitting in a dog bed on the floor.

“Could I have a word with you?” Rick asks Guillermo, annoyed. The alpha nods, turning to let Rick pass, and Rick tells him, “You’re the dumbest son of a bitch I ever met. W walked in there ready to kill every last one of you,” he hisses angrily.

“Well, I’m glad it didn’t go down that way.”

“If it had, that blood would be on my hands.”

“Mine too,” Guillermo insists. “We’d have fought back. Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had to. Protect the food, the medicine- what’s left of it. These people, the old ones- the staff took off, just left ‘em here to die. Me and Felipe were the only ones who stayed.”

“What are you? Doctors?”

“Felipe’s a nurse- a special care provider. Me? I’m the custodian.”

Rick, Daryl, Glenn, and T-Dog follow Guillermo as he moves to an empty room. Rick sets the gun bag down and asks, “What about the rest of your crew?”

“The vatos trickle in to check on their parents, their grandparents. They see how things are and most decide to stay. It’s a good thing too. We need the muscle. The people we’ve encountered since things fell apart, the worst kind- plunderers, the kind that take by force.”

“That’s not who we are.”

“How was I to know? My people go attacked and you show up with Miguel hostage- appearances.”

“Guess the world changed,” T-Dog says softly.

“No,” Guillermo says certainly. “It’s the same as it ever was. The weak get taken. So we do what we can here. The vatos work on those cars, talk about getting the old people out of the city. But most can’t even get to the bathroom by themselves, so that’s just a dream. Still, it keeps the crew busy, and that’s worth something. So we barred all the windows, welded all the doors shut except for one entrance. The vatos, they go out, scavenge what they can to keep us going. We watch the perimeter night and day and we wait. The people here, they all look to me now. I don’t even know why.”

“Because they can,” Rick says simply. He stares at the other man thoughtfully while considering what he’s been told. Mind made up, Rick starts removing guns from his bag, handing his shotgun over first.

Daryl, T-Dog, and Glenn watch quietly as the alpha hands over more guns. When that’s done, they leave soon after, wanting to get back to camp before dark.

As they’re closing in on their truck, Glenn speaks up. “Admit it, you only came back to Atlanta for the hat.”

“Don’t tell anybody,” Rick deadpans.

Worried, Daryl says, “You’ve given away half our guns and ammo.”

“Not nearly half,” Rick assures the omega.

“For what? Bunch of old farts who are gonna die off momentarily anyhow? Seriously, how long you think they got?”

Rick gives the man a look, asking wisely, “How long do any of us?”

They make it to the underpasses, and look down the fence, only to find their box van gone.

“Oh my god,” Glenn says.

“Where the hell’s our van?” Daryl asks, astonished.

“We left it right there,” Glenn says surely. “Who would take it?”

Realization dawning, Rick looks at Daryl. “Merle.”

Troubled, Daryl agrees, looking at Rick. “He’s gonna be taking some vengeance back to camp.”

Afraid of what Merle might do, the group begins their jog to Atlanta. It’s gruling and painful, miles and miles uphill. By the time they’re nearing the top, all four of them are soaked in sweat, panting heavily, and ready to give up. Rick’s lungs burn and his still weak body is ready to collapse. It’s only his fear for Carl that keeps him on his feet.

It’s been dark for over an hour when they hear the first gunshots echoing through the mountains. “Oh god,” Rick says, freezing and looking at Daryl. Together, they continue running, pushing themselves faster. “I know Merle’s your brother,” Rick says breathlessly. “But I have to think of Carl,” he warns Daryl.

Daryl can only nod back jerkily, understanding the position his brother put Rick in.

Thankfully, or most likely not so thankfully, when they arrive, they find that the cause of the screams was not Merle, but walkers. As they break through the trees, the four exhausted men split up, helping the rest of the camp put the walkers down.

Unconcerned with how loud he is, Rick starts yelling fearfully. “Carl! Carl! Puppy! Carl!”

“Dad!” the boy yells, running for his dad, sobbing.

Rick scoops up his pup, holding him close, crying. Running a perfunctory eye over Lori and Shane to make sure they’re alright, Rick turns with his boy in his arms, checking on Daryl. He catches the omegas eye, and he nods, Rick nodding back.

He turns, finding everyone staring at Andrea, and then sees why. Her sister, Amy lays on the ground in front of her, blood gushing from her neck. Rick puts Carl down, but the boy can’t watch, shoving his face into his father’s stomach as he continues to cry. The rest of them can only watch as the young omega slips away, her bawling over her body, wailing, “Amy! Amy!”

“I remember my dream now, why I dug the holes,” Jim says as he looks over all the bodies lying around camp.

Those who manage to fall asleep that night, don’t sleep well. Rick doesn’t even try, just leaves his bags and hat in the tent and makes sure Carl’s safe in there with Lori, before looking for Daryl. Lori attempts to grab his hand, begging him to stay with her, but he just shakes his head, leaving the tent. He finds the omega sitting by one of the fires by himself, his crossbow on his lap, just watching the flames.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Daryl asks as Rick sits beside him, close but not touching.

“Nah. I’m not gonna be able to sleep tonight. Too much adrenalin. Besides, I want to be ready if more walkers show up. From what I’ve heard, that’s not normal.”

Daryl nods in understanding, but doesn’t say anything else.

 “You alright?” Rick asks as he glances at the man, watching the orange lights play over the planes of his face, highlighting his sharp features.

Daryl shrugs, humming noncommittedly as he stares at the fire. “Course not,” he finally answers. “Camp was attacked. We lost people. Good people.”

Rick looks at him, wishing he knew the blond man enough to read his emotions without touching him. He can guess the problem though.

“I’m sorry.”

This makes Daryl finally look at Rick. “What?”

“I said I’m sorry. I’m not sure I said it earlier, but I’m sorry. I can’t regret handcuffing Merle to that roof because he was a danger to us, but I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to bring him back. I’m sorry we had to leave him there.”

Daryl turns back to the fire, unsure how to take the genuine apology from the man beside him, and just plain tired. “I get that,” he mutters. “Thanks.”

Hesitant, Rick continues. “And I’m sorry Merle didn’t trust you, that he left you.”

If he was shocked before, Daryl’s speechless now. “What?” he asks dumbly.

“I know all that pain you were feeling on that roof, wasn’t just for Merle’s situation, for finding him gone. Part of that pain was for the fact that Merle didn’t give you any credit. He knew you were on a hunting trip, but he also knew you’d be back this morning. He should have known you’d come for him, and instead he cut off his own hand. And if he was coming back to camp, he would have beaten us here.”

Pained at the reminder, Daryl dropped his head to his chest, breathing deeply, trying not to cry yet again today.

“Hey,” Rick says quietly waiting for the omega to meet his eyes. “You’re a good man, and Merle should have trusted you. He’s lucky to have you as a brother, and if doesn’t see that, well,” Rick whispers, leering slightly at Daryl, “I’d happily keep you for myself.”

Daryl’s eyes widen comically as he draws in a sharp breath, choking slightly and his cheeks pinking in the light from the fire. He pounds on his chest, shaking his head, and Rick can only watch with a smile, trying not to laugh.

Rick turns back toward the fire, letting Daryl get his bearings back. Daryl’s breathing evens out beside him, but no one speaks for a while, enjoying the silence.

Eventually, Daryl speaks up tentatively, his voice rough. “Are we talking about it then?”

Not needing to ask, knowing exactly what Daryl meant, he asks instead, “Do you want to?”

“There’s nothin’ to talk about. You already got a wife and a kid,” Daryl says, resigned.

“You mean the wife who’s sleeping with my best friend?” Rick asks sardonically, raising an eyebrow.

If Daryl’s surprised by the information, he doesn’t show it. “So you know about that then?” he asks, implying that he did know already.

“Oh, yeah,” Rick says with a fake smile and Daryl watches him out of the corner of his eye. “Hard to miss. For a former cop, Shane’s not very good at hiding the evidence. They’re not exactly subtle either.” He draws his knees up, the v’s of his elbows wresting on them, staring at his hands. “It was a long time comin’. One of the reasons I contacted a divorce lawyer before I was shot, to look at my options. Lori wanted a ‘real alpha’ and apparently Shane fit’s that role better than I do.”

Daryl thinks for a moment. “She thought you were dead though, right? Maybe it didn’t start until after,” he says, playing devil’s advocate.

Rick shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it started before I was shot, or at least while I was in the coma. But even if they waited until after believing I was dead, it’s been what? A month? They obviously weren’t too broken up about it. They just continued on, Shane slipping into my part of the family. To tell you the truth, I’m more worried about his relationship with Carl.”

“Why?” Daryl asks curiously.

“It’s just this look he gets sometimes, like I’m stealing Carl from him. I d’know. I’m grateful to him for keeping my son safe, but he’s still my son, you know?”

“D’you think he’ll do somethin’ stupid?” Daryl asks, worried.

Rick takes a deep breath. “I want to say no. I’d like to tell you without a doubt that Shane’s not that kind of man, that kind of alpha, but honestly? I can’t do that, as much as I want to. He’s always had a temper, one of those stereotypical hotheaded alphas, but he always saved it for the criminals we were after or for the gun range. I can tell he’s slipping, though. I’ve known him most of our lives, I’d have to be blind and stupid not to see it. Like what happened today with Ed? Sure the bastard deserved it on some level, but the partner I knew never would have taken that far.” Rick sighs. “I’m just not sure what to expect from him anymore, and I’m afraid Carl will get stuck in the middle, and he’ll get hurt.”

Thinking deeply, Daryl watches the flames in front of them as they die down to embers, taking their heat with them. “I can’t promise you that knothead, prick won’t try anythin’, but I can promise to be there, watchin’ your back, followin’ your lead and watchin’ out for your pup. My asshole brother may not need me anymore, but I get the feelin’ you have a habit of gettin’ yourself into trouble.”

Rick chuckles, nodding. “That’s not untrue.” They’re quiet for a few more minutes before he speaks up again. “So you never really answered my question. Do you want to talk about it?”

“I guess that depends. What d’you want from me?”

“Daryl, I want whatever you’re willing to give me. I know this is isn’t the best time for this to happen, and I know we just met today, so if you want to just stay friends, or maybe even pack, that’s fine. I’m not gonna lie, I know you’re my mate, and of course I want you, all of you, but I won’t force you. I’ve always prided myself on not being that kind of alpha, so it’s up to you.”

Daryl raises his hand to his mouth, chewing on his thumbnail anxiously. “How d’you know I’m what you want? That you won’t change your mind, or that you won’t want Lori back? I’m just some crazy, redneck puta,” he spits self-deprecatingly.

Sad, Rick whispers the omega’s name and waits until those bright blue eyes meet his own. “Let me show you?” he asks, raising his hand slowly to his cheek, but not quite touching. After searching Rick’s eyes for any kind of deceit and not finding anything, Daryl nods.

Rick wishes he could send thoughts so he could prove it, but they can only share emotions. So, Rick speaks his thoughts, and lets Daryl feel what he feels when he thinks them. Rick lays his hand on Daryl’s cheek, ready this time for the initial influx of emotion. Fear, embarrassment, worry, nervousness, trepidation, and painful hope hit Rick and the alpha had to force himself not to lean forward and kiss the omega to reassure him.

Letting Daryl adjust to Rick’s emotions, the alpha breaths deeply, calming down. “Ready?”

Daryl nods and Rick is awed when he actually feels the other man’s apprehension in reply to Rick’s question.

Trying to send positive feelings, Rick begins. “Shane,” he says as he thinks about the man. He thinks about all the things he said before, his love for the boy he grew up with, the pride he felt for him as his partner, the anger he feels for the man he’s become and what he’s done behind Rick’s back, and the fear and uncertainty he feels for where his best friend is headed.       “Okay?” he asks Daryl, and the man nods back, dazed. Rick is reassured by what he’s feeling from the man and decides to continue.

“Lori,” he says next. He thinks of the initial attraction he felt for her the first time he saw her, the love he grew to feel for her as they stayed together, how grateful he felt for giving him Carl, the sadness he felt as they grew apart, his disgust he felt at the person she’s become, the anger he felt when his fears about her and Shane were proven right, the apathy he feels for her now.

Rick feels can feel Daryl’s surprise and pleasure at the end, and then his shame for feeling that. Not wanting him to be ashamed, Rick sends comfort and assurance, and even his own pleasure. When Daryl once again cycles through surprise, Rick sends a feeling of curiousness, asking without words if he’s okay, if he’s ready for more.

When he gets a nod, Rick says, “Carl.” His first thought is of the day he was born, the extreme happiness and joy and pride he felt the first time he held his little alpha. Next, he remembers the fear he felt when they took him home for the first time. Rick thinks of contentment he feels when it’s just the two of them and the satisfaction and pride he feels whenever Rick’s successfully taught him how to do something, like walk, or tie his shoes, or ride a bike. He thinks of the fear and anxiety he feels when he imagines his boy having to grow up and live in this new world for the rest of his life. And finally, he focuses on the unquestionable, unconditional love he feels for his child.

Daryl actually gasps at the last one. Rick catches his feeling of awe, and even a hint of jealousy, and asks, “What? What is it?”

“Nothin’,” Daryl says automatically.  “It—It’s just, I’ve never—I ‘ve never felt anythin’ like that before.” Daryl looks into Rick’s eyes. “That’s what you feel for Carl?” he asks in disbelief.

“Of course, he’s my son,” Rick says like it’s simple. To him it is.

“That is one fuckin’ lucky kid,” Daryl whispers, still a bit dazed from the wave of love that hit him.

Rick smiles sadly. “He shouldn’t have t’be lucky. I don’t know how any person can hold their child and not love them. It shouldn’t be possible.”

“Bein’ a male omega don’t help any,” Daryl says with a humorless laugh. “Not that bein’ an alpha helped Merle much.”

Never before has Rick wanted to murder another human being, but when he feels Daryl’s pain, shame, worthlessness, and more, he doesn’t think anyone would be able to stop him if he ever crosses paths with the people, the animals, that made him feel this way.

“God, Daryl,” Rick whispers. The alpha can’t find the words, but that’s okay, because they don’t need them now. Rick leans forward, one hand on the omega’s neck, and the other on his cheek, and presses his forehead to Daryl’s temple, eyes closed.

“Daryl,” he whispers again and let’s the broken man in front of him feel everything Rick does when he thinks of the omega. First, he lets him feel the grief and sorrow Rick feels after hearing what he’s divulged about his past. Then he thinks about how strong this man must be to survive what he’s been through—and come out the other side a good man, when he could have, should have, turned out like his brother—and feels pride. Rick thinks back to this morning when he first saw the hunter and remembers his amusement and happiness at such an odd and unexpected entrance, making for a humorous first impression. Rick thinks of the few time’s he’s had his heart broken today, watching what this man had to endure and the helplessness when the alpha couldn’t do anything to save him the pain. He remembers the awe he felt when admitting to himself that they really were mates, that he found his other half. He lets Daryl feel what Rick does when he thinks about him as a whole: affection, adoration, tenderness, attraction, pride, awe, devotion, possessiveness, protectiveness, etc. The list goes on, and Rick knows it will only grow. There’s not love, not yet. But Rick doesn’t doubt it will come, sooner rather than later.

By the time Rick is focused back on the present, eyes open, Daryl is shaking, tears sliding down his face even with his eyes squeezed shut, and hands gripping Rick’s arms. At the moment, he isn’t sensing much from Daryl other than shock, like his mind and heart haven’t yet fully absorbed or understood what he’s feeling from Rick.

Not pushing, Rick just holds still, trying to quiet his own mind, only sending tranquil thoughts and feelings. The alpha’s happy to sit and comfort the omega for as long as he needs, secure in the knowledge that they’re the only one’s still up, besides Dale, who’s keeping watch on top of the RV. It’s pretty dark now that the fires died down, but Rick knows Dale won’t say anything. He’s not one to spill secrets unless they’re dangerous for the group.

Soon, Daryl pulls himself together, sniffling and wiping his eyes roughly with one hand while the other continues to cling to Rick.

“How?” he finally asks roughly. “It’s only been a’day.”

“No one who can see you for who you are, no one who looks hard enough, needs to know you any longer than I do, to know you’re worth getting to know better. I may have the advantage of our bond, but even I didn’t need it to see the real you, Daryl Dixon.”

Daryl surprises them both by throwing his arms around the former deputy, holding on for dear life, and giving off so much gratitude Rick’s not sure he’ll ever be worthy.

It doesn’t last long though, Daryl pulling away, severing the connection, and leaving them both feeling bereft inside. He stands, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder and scrubbing his face with both hands.

Rick lets him go, knowing Daryl needs some distance after being so vulnerable. “M’gonna go hunt some breakfast,” the omega mutters, not making eye contact.

The alpha stands, stretching and looking at the sky. It’ll be light soon. He nods. “Just be careful, and stay close. Please? I don’t want you too far with all the walkers that came through tonight—last night—whatever.”

Daryl just nods, tilting his head to the side. Rick lays his hand on the exposed skin, letting him feel his appreciation and letting him feel how honored Rick is to be given that symbol of trust. He pulls back quickly, not wanting to overwhelm him, and steps aside, signaling for the man to pass so he can start his hunt.

Daryl does so, briefly patting Rick on the stomach before disappearing into the woods, his crossbow now in hand. The alpha watches him go, worried, but having faith in the omega’s ability to handle himself.

He stands there by the fire pit, hands on his hips as he stares up at the lightening sky, making plans for the coming hours, secure in his standing with Daryl. Remembering what he’d promised Morgan, Rick heads back to his tent to collect the walkie-talkie he risked his life for.

When he opens the tent, he finds Lori and Carl still asleep. Careful not to wake them, he reaches through the opening and unzips his duffle bag. He takes it out, and with one last glance at Carl, he pulls back, closing the flap of the tent.

Rick walks out into a nearby field, watching the sunrise over Atlanta. Holding the radio close to his mouth, he presses the button and begins talking. “Morgan, I don’t know if you’re out there. I don’t know if you can hear me. Maybe you’re listing right now. I hope so. I found others—my family, if you can believe it.” He lets go of the button, only hearing static. “My son’s alive, his mother and Shane too. I even met my mate, if you can believe that. His name’s Daryl, an omega. He’s a good man.” Rick pauses with a soft smile. “I wanted you to know that.”

Rick pauses again, his smile slipping. “There’s something else you need to know. Atlanta isn’t what we thought. It’s not what they promised. The city is—Do not enter the city. It belongs to the dead now. We’re camped a few miles northwest, up by a big abandoned rock quarry. You can see it on a map… I hope you come find us. But be careful. Last night walkers came outta the woods… We lost people. Watch yourself, Morgan. Take care of your boy. I’ll try you again tomorrow at dawn.”

Nothing left to say, Rick lets go of the button, listening to the static crackle before turning it off when he doesn’t receive a reply. Rick sits there, kneeling in the field, watching the sun rise, already covered in sweat from the Georgia heat, and hopes he sees Morgan and Duane again. And if not, he hopes that they’re safe at least.

Rick returns to camp to see everyone up and moving already. Daryl’s there, smashing the heads of the bodies just in case, and helping Glenn and T-Dog move them into the burn pile. He joins Dale, Shane, and Lori in watching Andrea as the female alpha sits vigil by her dead sister, and asks, “She still won’t move?”

“She won’t even talk to us,” Lori answers. “She’s been there all night. What do we do?”

“Can’t just leave Amy like that,” Shane says quietly. “We need to deal with it. Same as the others.”

“I’ll tell her how it is,” Rick volunteers before moving forward to approach the grieving blond. He walks up behind her and bends down, only getting as far as, “Andrea,” before he has a gun in his face. The former deputy is quick to back away.

“I know how the safety works,” she says, her eyes dead.

“All right,” Rick whispers, nodding nervously. “Okay. I’m sorry.” Be retreats cautiously, repeating, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

When Andrea finally lowers the gun, focusing back on her sister, Rick looks around him, finding Shane, Lori, and Dale on their feet, only able to watch. He turns and catches Daryl’s eye, the omega anixious and mad, gripping the pickaxe like he’d just love to use it on Andrea. Rick subtly shakes his head at him, not wanting him to get himself into trouble.

They all come together, trying to talk without Andrea overhearing, not that she’s paying much attention anyway. “Y’all can’t be serious,” Daryl says in disbelief, still upset with the blond for pulling a gun on Rick. “Let that girl hamstring us? The dead girl’s a time bomb.”

“What d’you suggest?” Rick asks helplessly.

Daryl leans in closer to the alpha and says quietly, “Take the shot. Clean, in the brain, from here. Hell, I can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance.”

“No,” Lori speaks up, and Rick almost cringes. He knows Daryl’s on edge right now and hearing from his ex-wife—as much as someone can be an ex without lawyers and judges anymore—isn’t going to help. “For God’s sakes, let her be.”

Daryl scoffs before walking away, angry. Rick goes his hand, wanting to comfort the omega, but stops himself just in time. It’s not the time or the place, especially with Shane and Lori right there. He’s not ashamed of Daryl by any means, but they’re still new. They haven’t really had a full discussion about what they are to each other. Rick doesn’t want Shane and Lori, or god forbid Carl, butting in and messing things up while they’re still new.

So, with a sigh, Rick can only watch the man leave to continue his task. He watches him clap Jim on the back as he passes, before helping Morales drag another one of the bodies to the fire.

“Hey—wha—what are you guys doing?” Rick hears Glenn ask them. “This is for geeks. Our people go over there.”

“What’s the difference?” Daryl asks in confusion. “They’re all infected.”

“Our people go in that row over there… We don’t burn them! We bury them. Understand? Our people go in that row over there.”

Rick watches as Daryl and Morales change directions, moving the body with the others from camp. The alpha can still see the confusion in Daryl’s face as he becomes annoyed. “You reap what you sow,” Daryl calls back to Glenn.

“You know what? Shut up, man,” Morales tells Daryl. Part of Rick wants to snarl at the beta. Get in his face and set him straight. Explain to them that Daryl’s only trying to do what’s best for the group. They don’t know anything about this virus, and Daryl would rather be safe than sorry.

But, Rick doesn’t do that. He already knows that Daryl can fight his own battles, omega or not.

“Y’all left my brother for dead,” Daryl shouts, causing Rick to actually cringe this time. “You had this comin’!”

This time Rick was going to follow him—Shane and Lori be damned—but Jaquie’s shouting interrupted him.

“Then show me,” she says loudly, grabbing everyone’s attention. She glares at Jim, who’s avoiding meeting her eyes. He whispers something to her, too quiet for Rick to pick up, but he can guess when Jacqui yells, “A walker got ‘im! A walker bit Jim!”

Jim backs away from her, dazed, as the rest of them surrounds him, watching him wearily.

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” he says.

“Show it to us,” Daryl demands. “Show it to us.”

Scared, Jim picks up a shovel, causing everyone to start talking at once.

“Easy, Jim,” Shane tells him.

Daryl says, “Grab ‘im.”

Shane, “Jim, put it down. Put it down.”

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” the beta says again before T-Dog sneaks up behind him, pulling his elbows, causing him to drop the shovel and restrict his arms.

Daryl darts in, quick as a snake, and pulls his shirt up enough to reveal the bloody, red, infected bite on his ribs.

Jim just keeps saying, “I’m okay. I’m okay,” almost desperately now.

T-Dog shoves him away, putting distance between them.

They order Jim to sit still as the rest of them discuss their options.

“I say we put a pickaxe in his head,” Daryl says bluntly. “And the dead girl’s and be done with it.”

“Is that what you’d want if it were you?” Shane asks.

“Yeah,” the omega answers honestly, and Rick tries not to whine at the image it conjures up in his mind. “And I’d thank you while you did it.”

“I hate to say it—I never thought I would—but maybe Daryl’s right,” Dale says.

Rick protests, arguing, “Jim’s not a monster, Dale, or some rabid dog.” Rick wants to agree with Daryl, and on some level he does. He understands wanting to eliminate the threat. But, he also doesn’t want to give up hope. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t been out here as long as the rest of them or fighting as long as Daryl has, but Rick doesn’t want to admit that this is permanent, that there’s no way to end it.

“I’m not suggesting—” Dale starts, but Rick doesn’t want to hear it.

“He’s sick. A sick man. We start down that road, where do we draw the line?”

“The line’s pretty clear,” Daryl insists from his place at Rick’s side. “Zero tolerance for walkers, or them to be.”

“What if we can get him help?” Rick pleads, trying to make Daryl understand. “I heard the C.D.C. was working on a cure.”

“I heard that too,” Shane says. “Heard a lotta things before the world went to hell.”

“What if the C.D.C. is still up and running?”

“Man, that is a stretch right there,” the alpha tells him.

“Why?” Rick asks strongly. “If there’s any government left, any structure at all, they’d protect the C.D.C. at all costs, wouldn’t they? I think it’s our best shot. Shelter, protection—”

“Okay, Rick, you want those things, all right? I do too, okay? Now if they exist, they’re at the army base. Fort Benning.”

“That’s 100 miles in the opposite direction,” Lori points out.

“That is right,” Shane agrees. “But it’s away from the hot zone. Now listen to me. If that place is operational, it’ll be heavily armed. We’d be safe there.”

“The military were on the front lines of this thing. They got overrun. We’ve all seen that. The C.D.C. is our best choice and Jim’s only chance.”

Rick’s been watching Daryl out of the corner of his eye the whole time, so he notices Daryl’s shift in body language. He has the same look on his face he did right before he went after that Miguel kid and put his hands around his throat.

“You go lookin’ for aspirin, do what you need to do. Someone needs to—” is as far as the omega gets before Rick’s got a hand on his arm, gripping tightly, stopping him from spinning and taking the pickaxe to Jim.

“No,” Rick says, quietly, but firmly. He needs to calm Daryl down, can feel his anger and fear, and tries to send him what he’s feeling. Rick tries to use his emotions to explain. He needs Daryl’s support in this, even if he doesn’t agree. He needs Daryl to put his trust in Rick like he said he would, and to follow his lead.

Rick’s not sure how if Daryl got the message, but whatever he felt was enough to wipe out most of his anger, leaving behind a restless anxiousness. Daryl’s afraid, and this is how he handles things he doesn’t understand. Quickly and direct, not leaving anything to chance.

Daryl doesn’t bare his neck, not with everyone watching them, but he does manage to convey his surrender and submission through the bond.

All of this happens in a matter of seconds—if that—their control improving the more they connect.

“We don’t kill the living,” Rick says to the group.

“That’s funny comin’ from a man who handcuffed my brother to a roof and left ‘im to die,” Daryl says without heat, just irritated at the situation.

Glenn, T-Dog, and Rick all flinch at it anyway, and Rick sends remorse through the bond. Daryl takes mercy on the alpha and sends back forgiveness and his own apology for the remark.

Shane clears his throat, bringing their attention back to the group. They turn to find Lori, Glenn, T-Dog, Dale, and Shane all giving them strange looks. That’s when Rick realizes he’s still holding Daryl’s arm. Daryl must realize it too because Rick is hit with embarrassment and even a little bit of possessive pride, before he pulls his arm away.

Shane and Lori look like they both have something to say, but Rick shoots them his best ‘alpha look’ and they stay quiet about it.

No more arguments, the group splits up, Rick and Shane moving Jim to somewhere safe, for him and for the others. When they get back, the two alphas stand off by the vehicles, debating if Fort Benning or the C.D.C. is their best bet. Rick keeps an eye on Daryl who’s gone back to using the pickaxe until handing it over to Carol when it’s Ed’s turn. The three men watch as the abused woman hit’s her dead husband, over and over again. They’re only distracted by the sounds of walker moans.

They turn, Carol included, and watch as Amy’s body begins moving, her older sister still holding on. Rick and Shane approach, drawing their weapons just in case. They don’t have to worry though, because soon Andrea pulls the trigger, finally ending the thing her sister had become.

Shane and Rick spend the next few hours digging graves. Eventually, knowing his friend has something on his mind, Rick stops and looks at him. “Say it,” he says, panting and tired from the physical labor. He’s only been out of the hospital five days and he body is constantly reminding him of this fact.

Shane stops too, and taking a deep breath he says, “Okay…I’m thinking if you’d of stayed here, if you’d have looked after your own—Instead you went off. You took half our manpower with you. I’m thinkin’ maybe our losses wouldn’t have been so bad. Okay?”

Angry, Rick says, “If we hadn’t gone off and brought those guns back when we did, I think our losses would have been a lot worse. Maybe the entire camp.”

Shane just shakes his head, disagreeing, but not saying anything else. They hear the sound of an engine, and turn to find Daryl driving a truck in reverse towards them, the bed loaded with bodies.

“I still think it’s a mistake not burnin’ these bodies,” Daryl discloses honestly. “It’s what we said we’d do, right? Burn ‘em all, wasn’t that the idea?”

“At first,” Rick agrees as the rest of the camp joins them.

“The Chinaman gets all emotional, says it’s not the thing to do, we just follow ‘im along?” he asks confused. “These people need to know who the hell’s in charge here,” he continues, looking pointedly at Rick. “What the rules are.”

“There are no rules,” Rick says, and he’s right. They’ve been so focused on surviving, they haven’t thought about it. With no more laws or authorities, they’ve been running around in circles like headless chickens, just trying to get by. They need to think long term if they want to continue surviving.

“Well, that’s a problem,” Lori says obviously. “We haven’t had one minute to hold onto anything of our old selves. We need time to mourn and we need to bury our dead. It’s what people do.”

Rick hates to agree with her, so he doesn’t say anything, just stays quiet and helps bury their people. Amy is last, and Rick stands off to the side with Daryl as they watch Andrea try to get her sister’s body in the hole by herself.

When it’s done, they all file back to camp, Rick and Daryl taking up the rear. He watches Carl walk beside his mother, tears on his face but trying to be a brave alpha, and his heart fills with fear.

Rick glances at Daryl and whispers, “Burying other people is bad enough, but the thought of one of us—"

“Hey,” Daryl says, his voice quiet and rough. “I won’t let that happen. We won’t let that happen,” he says, taking ahold of Rick’s hand, initiating the bond for the first time. The alpha almost cries when he feels Daryl’s determination, and protectiveness, and surety. He can only squeeze the hunter’s rough, calloused hand and let the man’s confidence wash over him.

Daryl lets go of Rick’s hand abruptly, and before he can ask why, little arms wrap around his waist.

“Are we safe now, dad?” Carl asks as he lets go. The father kneels in front of his pup as the boy asks, “Now that we’re together?”

“I won’t, leave, again. I promise you that. Not for anything.” Carl nods and Rick puts a hand on his son’s neck and squeezes. “Now give me a chance to discuss some things with Daryl, okay? Go to your mother, alright.”

“Yeah,” he whispers with a smile.

“All right. All right,” Rick says quietly and he watches Carl walk away, taking his mother’s hand who had been standing a few feet away, having an intense conversation with Shane. Not anything good by the looks of it. Rick doesn’t care much, as long as it doesn’t affect Carl.

Rick stands and looks at Daryl, who had stepped away to give the father and son some privacy. “Shane blames me for not being here,” he tells the omega.

“Bullshit,” Daryl says fiercely. “If we hadn’t of gotten those guns, we would’ve lost even more people. Say we had been here. We would have been fightin’ all those assholes with knifes and sticks. Shane had a couple guns and Andrea had hers. That wouldn’t have covered all of us, it didn’t even cover them.”

“That’s what I told him, but how do we know? If the four of us had been here, we could have protected more people, sooner. We’re the muscle and we left them unprotected,” he whispers, worried.

“Let’s be real here, Rick. I would have gone, with or without you. And T-Dog? He was fine with a gun, but he’s still hurtin’ from Merle’s beatin’. He wouldn’t’ve been much help in hand to hand. So, yeah, maybe you would have saved a couple more people. But getting those guns could’ve saved T-Dog and me. I’d’ve been stuck in Atlanta by myself, getting’ my ass eaten and not in the fun way.”

It’s only years of police training and experience that keeps Rick from blushing at the blunt statement.

Daryl continues, unaware of the affect his words had on Rick, too focused on reassuring him. “We’ll never know for sure, but those guns give us a chance for the future. If we had waited any longer, those guns would’ve been long gone and we never would’ve gotten back in time to save anybody. Shane can back the fuck off and shut his pie hole ‘til he gets his head outta Lori’s ass.”

This makes Rick bark a laugh, beyond amused and grateful for the distraction from his guilt. He sees Daryl’s lips tick up into an attempt to smile.

Rick sighs, sad he has to ruin the joyful mood. “What about the C.D.C?”

Daryl studies Rick. “You really think we’ll find what you’re lookin’ for there?”

“I don’t know,” Rick says honestly. “But I do think it’s our best bet.”

Daryl nods. “Alright.”

“Alright? That’s it?”

“I told you I’d follow your lead Rick,” he says simply. “I know I didn’t handle the Jim thing well, and I still think we’re just delayin’ the inevitable, but I’ll back your play with the others…Besides, what’s the alternative? Fort Benning? I’d rather take on all the walkers in Atlanta with nothin’ but my bare hands ‘en side with that alpha meathead.”

“I’ll take it,” Rick says with a chuckle. “You okay to check in on Jim with me? Or is that pushing it too far?”

“I’ll be fine. Promise not to kill ‘im.”

“Alright,” Rick says before turning and leading them to the RV. The get inside to find Carol using a wet cloth to try and cool the sick man down.

“His fever’s worse,” the female omega tells Rick.

Trying to show he means no harm, but unwilling to apologize, Daryl asks roughly, “Need anythin’?”

“Uh…” Jim starts, weary and dazed. “Water. Could use more water.”

“I’ll get you some,” Carol volunteers.

“M’kay,” Jim whispers.

They watch Carol leave before Rick moves closer, taking a seat.

“You save a grave for me?” the beta asks.

“Nobody wants that,” Rick reassures him.

Jim flicks a glance at Daryl, who’s standing in the doorway and turns to Rick with a look that asks, ‘you sure about that.’

Rick glances back at Daryl, and getting a nod, he turns to Jim. “I’ve talked to Daryl about it. He doesn’t agree, but he’s willing to follow my lead on this.”

Jim shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not about what you want… That, uh—that sound you hear, that’s god laughing while you make plans.”

“What I want, Jim, if—if god allows, is to get you some help.”

Jim start coughing, and Rick hands him the pot sitting by the bed. The man takes it, and spits up blood into it, continuing to cough. Rick’s careful to lean away, not wanting to risk getting infected.

When the man’s calmed down, he tells Rick, “Watch the mangroves. Their roots’ll gouge the whole boat. You know that, right? Amy is there swimming. You’ll watch the boat, right? You said you would.”

Rick can only nod, knowing the man has become delirious and assures Jim. “I’ll watch the boat. Don’t worry,” he whispers.

Jim nods. “Okay.”

The alpha scrubs a hand down his face and looks up at Daryl. The two men move to leave, but before they can step out, they stop, hearing Shane’s voice and see Lori standing just outside the RV.

“I need you to help talk some sense into Rick,” the alpha tells his lover.

Daryl snorts, and Rick shushes him. Lori stands up and Rick and Daryl move closer to the door.

“Look, this C.D.C. thing, Lori, it’s a mistake.” The woman only sighs. “So you’re backing him?”

“What else would I do? He’s my husband,” she says arrogantly and Daryl scoffs.

“Look, it may be time for you to play the dutiful wife, but you can’t tell me that fixing your marriage is worth putting people’s lives at risk.”

Fed up, Daryl steps out of the RV and says, “Bit too late for that.”

Shane and Lori turn spin, surprised by his presence. “What do you know, you redneck, omega—”

“Finish that sentence, and I’ll put your ass on the ground,” Rick says, deadly calm as he steps down to join them. “Or better yet, I’ll let Daryl do it.”

“Rick—man—how much did you hear?” the other alpha asks, panicked.

“Enough,” he answers, his arms crossed.

“It wasn’t what it sounded like, brother. I just think Fort Benning is the better option. I wanted Lori to see that.”

“So you weren’t tryin’ to use your lover to manipulate Rick into changin’ his mind?” Daryl asks with fake innocence.

Lori gasps and Shane spits at Daryl, “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Then he turns to Rick, pleading. “Come on, man, don’t listen to him. He doesn’t know nothin’, he’s just trying to—”

“That’s enough, brother,” Rick says forcefully, his calm mask slipping a bit. “You leave Daryl outta this. It’s not his fault my wife and my brother,” he spits the terms sarcastically, “were having an affair, and decided to lie to me about it.” They look at him shocked and he chuckles humorlessly. “You two ain’t exactly subtle.”

Coming out of her shock, Lori steps forward, trying to touch Rick and he pulls away. “Rick, please. You have to understand, we thought you were dead.”

Rick scoffs. “And how long did you wait before jumping into bed? A few days? A week? You must’a been real broken up about losin’ me. Or did you not even wait till I was gone, ‘comforting’ each other while I was in the coma? Then you, Lori, had the nerve to try an’ give me my ring back, like you hadn’t already broken your vows, like they meant nothing.” Rick shakes his head, raising his hand to halt them when the two guilty parties try to speak. “I don’t want to hear about it. I don’t want excuses. Me and Lori were already headed for a divorce, so let’s just make this final.” He looks Lori in the eye so she can see how serious he is. “We’re done. We may not have the papers to prove it, but you are no longer my wife, and I’m not your husband. I’ll play nice for Carl, but I won’t lie to him. He has enough to worry about without adding the confusion of a fake marriage and a cheating mom. If you don’t want to tell him we’re through, I will.

“So, from now on, I want you to stay outta my business, the both of you. If you have something to contribute to the group, fine, but if it’s personal, you can keep it to yourself.

“Congratulations,” he says sarcastically. “You two deserve each other.”

With that, Rick walks away, but pauses, looking back over his shoulder. “Oh, and Shane? You’re not Carl’s father. I am.” That said, he continues on, Daryl at his side, and tells Dale as they pass. “Daryl’s gonna do the sweep with us.”

Dale looks like he wants to say something, looking at Shane with confusion, but Daryl shakes his head. “Don’t ask, man.”

As they’re walking through the edge of the woods, Daryl asks, “You think they’ll listen?”

Rick sighs. “I don’t know. I hope so. I doubt it, but I hope so.”

Deciding to change the subject, the omega points out, “Shane’s not the only one not convinced about the C.D.C. What do we do if Shane convinces Lori to go to Fort Benning? This isn’t the old world where she’d take Carl and you’d see him on the weekends.”

Rick hums in thought. “Lori can be selfish, but she’s not completely stupid. She’ll choose what’s best for Carl, and a hundred miles through hostile territory? Nah, I think she’ll follow me on this, no matter who’s in her pants.”

A branch snaps, reminding them that they’re supposed to be on watch. Rick signals Daryl to go left while he goes right. With a nod, they spread out, Daryl with his trusty crossbow and Rick with his shotgun. They search, but they don’t find anything, dismissing the sound as a small animal running through the brush.

When they meet up with Dale, they all agree that they’re safe for the time being and head back to camp. They find everybody sitting around the main fire pit, waiting to make a decision.

When he spots Rick, Shane stands and addresses the group. “I've been—uh, I've been thinkin’ about Rick’s plan. Now look, there are no—there are no guarantees either way. I’ll be the first one to admit that. I’ve known this man a long time. I trust his instincts. I say the most important thing here is we need to stay together… So, those of you that agree, we leave first thing in the morning,” he finishes, looking at Rick in surrender. “Okay?”

They spend the rest of the afternoon discussing the pros and cons of going to the C.D.C. as a group. Other options are brought up, and not everyone is completely sold, but they all agree that this is their best option.

From there, they begin making plans. When will they leave? What will they bring? What do they still need to get?

After all, if the decisions are made, everybody but Rick and Daryl head to bed. They spend the night sitting up on the RV, taking turns, switching between sleep and taking watch.

The next morning, Rick heads back out the field to watch the sun rise, and talk to Morgan. “We’re moving out,” he says into the walkie-talkie. “Leaving the quarry. If you heard me yesterday, you may be coming here. If you are, we'll be gone by the time you arrive. I’m leaving a note and map behind for you, taped to a red car so you can follow our trail. We’re headin' to the C.D.C. If there’s anything left, it’s got t'be there, don’t you think? Morgan…I hope you were right about that place. I need you t'be.”

His peace said, Rick heads back to camp to get dressed and finish packing. When everyone’s gathered and ready to leave, Shane speaks up. “Alright, everybody listen up. Those of you with C.B.’s, we're gonna be on channel 40. Let’s keep the chatter down, okay? Now you gotta problem, don’t have a C.B., can’t get a signal or anything at all, you’re gonna hit your horn one time. That’ll stop the caravan. Any questions?”

“We’re uh—” Morales speaks up hesitantly. “We’re—we’re not going.”

No one says anything, and Morales's wife explains, “We have family in Birmingham. We want to be with our people.”

Worried, Shane points out, “you go on your own, you won't have anyone to watch your back.”

“We'll take the chance,” Morales says. “I gotta do what’s best for my family.”

“You sure?” Rick asks, speaking up for the first time.

“We talked about it,” the beta says, looking at his wife before turning back to look at the alphas. “We’re sure.”

“Alright,” Rick says before looking at the other alpha. “Shane.”

“Yeah.”

Rick picks out a gun from the bag at his feet. “.357?”

“Yeah,” Shane says, picking out the required ammo for the weapon. They approach Morales and his family, handing over the items. “Box is half full.”

Daryl scoffs off to the side, but doesn’t react otherwise. Rick shoots him a look, reminding him to trust the alpha like he promised.

While all the camp members say goodbye, Rick tells the father, “Channel 40 if you change your minds. Alright?” Rick gets a nod and a ‘Yeah in response.

As the small family leaves, leaving behind crying women and children, Shane turns to Rick. “What makes you think our odds are any better?” Not expecting an answer, he turns to the rest of the group. “Come on. Let’s go. Let’s move out.”

The caravan leaves the quarry in five vehicles, the RV taking the lead with Daryl ate the rear, his motorcycle in the bed of his truck. They make it a few miles before the radiator hose on the RV finally gives out, putting a halt to their journey.

“I told you we'd never get far on that hose,” Dale tells Rick ad they stand in front of the broken-down vehicle. “I said I needed the one from that cube van.”

“Can you jury-rig it?” the alpha asks hopefully.

“That’s all it's been so far. It’s more duct tape than hose. And I’m out of duct tape.”

Shane, off to the side, looking through binoculars says, “I see somethin’ up ahead. A gas station if we’re lucky.”

They’re interrupted by Jacqi who rushed out of the RV looking harried. “Y'all, Jim—it’s bad. I don’t think he can take it anymore.” She doesn’t wait for a response, just leaves to return to the sick man’s side.

“Hey, Rick,” Shane says. “You want to hold down the fort? I’ll drive ahead see what I can bring back.”

“Yeah, I’ll come along too,” T-Dog agrees. “And I’ll back you up.”

Rick just takes his hat off and makes for the RV door. Obviously, Shane isn’t looking for a real answer as he continues, “Y'all keep your eyes open now. We’ll be right back.”

Rick pauses before stepping in, taking a deep breath. Before he can step inside, a hand takes a hold of his wrist, and he didn’t need to feel the influx of new emotions to know it belongs to his mate. The connection is nice though, a reprieve from the pressure and guilt that’s been weighing him down. Daryl, not usually one for words when if matters, doesn’t say anything, just feeds Rick all the sorrow and compassion he feels for him and the confidence he feels in the alpha. He sends back gratitude and takes another deep breath, steeling himself for what’s to come. The hand drops away, and without looking at the omega, he steps into the large vehicle, as ready as he can be.

Rick finds Jim in the same position he’s been in for two days and says, “We'll be back on the road soon.”

“Oh no. Crist. My bones—my bones are like glass. Every little bump—God, this ride's killing me. Leave me here, the beta begs, motioning to the area outside. “I’m done…Just leave me. I want t'be with my family.”

“They’re all dead,” Rick says bluntly, crouching down beside the bed. “I don’t think you know what your asking. The fever—you’ve been delirious more often than not.”

“I know. Don’t you think I know? I’m clear now. In five minutes I may not be. Rick, I know what I’m asking. I want this. Leave me here. Now that’s on me. Okay? My decision. Not your failure.”

Rick can only nod before standing up and exiting the RV. He finds the majority of the adults crowded around the door, Daryl doing a pretty good job of ignoring Shane and Lori's not-so-subtle glares, and informs them of Jim’s decision. “It’s what he says he wants.”

“And he’s lucid?” Carol asks, oblivious, or ignoring, the attention around her.

“He seems to be,” Rick says tiredly. “I would say yes.”

“Back in the camp when I said Daryl might be right and you shut me down, you misunderstood,” Dale tells Rick. “I would never go along with callously killing a man. I was just going to suggest that we ask Jim what he wants. And I think we have an answer.”

No one speaks for a moment, and Shane turns to Rick. “We just leave him here? We take off? Man, I’m not sure I could live with that.”

“It’s not your call,” Lori says. “Either one of you.”

That in mind, Rick and Shane move to retrieve Jim, carrying him out to one of the trees along the road and sitting him down against it. They each say goodbye, either with words or sad smiles. Rick offers him a gun, but the dying man declines knowing they'll need all the help they can get in the coming days. He waits for Daryl—who goes last—off to the side. He watched the omega give Jim a solemn nod of respect and feels his heart swells with pride. Daryl was willing to do what he thought needed to be done to protect the rest of the group, but he by no means would have enjoyed it. He would have lived with that for the rest of his life, however long or short it turns out to be.

Rick and Daryl walk down the hill together, arms brushing, only getting flashes of emotions. Rick’s pride and respect for his mate, Daryl’s regret and helplessness at Jim’s situation. They separate with a nod, heading for their respective vehicles, Rick with Carl, and Daryl with his bike.

They make it to the C.D.C. in good time, but what they find is the scene of a horror movie. The areas outside the building looks like a war zone, bodies everywhere—days or even weeks old, the smell like nothing any of them have ever encountered—overrun military barricades and bugs buzzing everywhere, feasting on the flesh of the dead.

The closer to the building they get, the more the group coughs and gags, and the more dread Rick feels. He orders the group to keep moving, not letting them dwell on their surroundings. When they reach the doors, it's to find the gates pulled down, preventing them from entering. Rick knocks and Shane tries to lift it, but to no avail.

“There’s nobody here,” T-Dog says.

“Then why are these shutters down?” Rick asks desperately.

Daryl, who had been watching their rear, shouts, “Walkers!” He takes one out with his crossbow before approaching Rick, agitated but silent.

“Rick, this is a dead end. Where are we gonna go?” Shane asks. “Do you hear me? No blame.”

“Where are we gonna go?” Carol asks.

“She’s right,” Lori says. “We can’t be here, this close to the city after dark.”

“Fort Benning Rick—still an option,” Shane says.

“On what?” Andrea asks. “No food, no fuel. That’s 100 miles.”

“125,” Glenn corrects. “I checked the map.”

“Forget Fort Benning. We need answers tonight, now,” Lori tells them.

“We’ll think of something,” Rick says roughly.

Not willing to wait anymore, Shane starts herding people back towards the cars. Rick stays behind, Daryl standing loyally at his side. Because the omega’s been paying so close attention to Rick, he notices the camera move, just after the alpha does.

“The camera—it moved!” Rick calls over his shoulder, not taking his eye off of it.

“You imagined it,” Dale says.

“It moved,” Daryl and Rick say at the same time.

“It moved,” Rick repeats.

Shane comes up on Rick’s other side. “Rick, it’s dead, man. It’s an automated device. It—it’s gears, okay? They’re just winding down. Now come on.” Shane starts pulling Rick away as he says, “Just listen to me, okay? Look around this place. It’s dead, okay? It’s dead. You need to let it go, Rick.”

Daryl comes up behind Shane, shoving him off of Rick. “Get your hands off him!” he says, distracting Shane enough that Rick runs back up to the door, pounding on the metal.

“I know you’re in there! I know you can hear me!” Rick shouts at the camera.

Shane shoves Daryl off, punching him square in the jaw, yelling, “Get your filthy, redneck, omega whore hands off me!” While Daryl stumbles back from the hit, Shane grabs Rick again, ignoring the other alpha’s pleas toward the camera, and yelling at everybody else to get to the cars.

While Shane’s dragging Rick away, Daryl decides to take Rick' spot rather than fight the alpha douchebag. He pounds and pounds on the shutters as Rick continues to yell, “You’re killing us! You’re killing us!” as the women and children cry in the back, the men shouting.

Shane’s just got Rick turned around when the door opens, Daryl stepping back in shock and shielding his eyes from the bright light coming from inside. Everyone stops and turns in shock as the gate raises, allowing them access. It takes them a minute before anyone moves, and then they’re all rushing forward.

“Hello?” Rick calls out. “Hello?!”

“Close those doors,” Dale says. “Watch for walkers.”

“Hello?” Rick calls out again, his voice desperate.

They hear a gun cock, and they swing toward the sound, their own weapons raised. They find a sick looking male alpha standing at the top of the stairs, pointing a military issued gun at them. “Anybody infected?!” he asks.

“One of our group was,” Rick says honestly. “He didn’t make it.”

“Why’re you here? What d’you want?”

“A chance,” Rick says simply.

“That’s asking an awful lot these days.

“I know.”

He pauses, thinking as he looks them over. “You all submit to a blood test. That’s the price of admission.”

Rick nods agreeably. “We can do that.”

The man lowers his gun. “You got stuff to bring in, you do it now. Once this door closes, it stays closed.”

Rick nods in understanding and he, Daryl, Shane, and Glenn are the ones to rush to the vehicles and grab their essentials. When they get back through the doors, the man presses a button on the intercom and says, “VI, seal the main entrance. Kill the power up here.” Whoever he’s talking to does as they’re told, the doors shutting immediately and the lights shutting off.

Rick holds a hand out to the man, introducing himself, but the man doesn’t take it, just says his own name, staring at Rick. “Dr. Edwin Jenner.”

The new alpha turns, leading them to an elevator that they can all cram into and begins taking them down.

“Doctors always go around packin’ heat like that?” Daryl asks.

Jenner turns to Daryl and says, “There were plenty left around. I familiarized myself.” He looks around at the rest of the group and says, “But you look harmless enough.” Then he turns to Carl with a smile and says, “Except you. I’ll have to keep my eye on you.” Carl smiles back at the joke, but doesn’t say anything.

Jenner leads them through a series of hallways, and Carol asks, “Are we underground?”

“Are you claustrophobic?”

“A little.”

“Try not to think about it,” Jenner suggests unhelpfully. He leads them to an open room filled with computers and large screens. He walks down the ramp, calling out, “VI, bring up the lights in the big room.” The ring of bright ceiling lights come on, lighting up the room. “Welcome to Zone 5,” Jenner tells them over his shoulder.

“Where is everybody?” Rick asks as he stares around the empty space. “The other doctors, the staff?”

“I’m it,” the doctor says from the other side of the bank of computers. “It’s just me here.”

“What about the person you were speaking with? VI?” Lori asks.

“VI, say hello to our guests. Tell them…Welcome.”

“Hello, guests,” an electronic female voice says from the speakers around the room. “Welcome.”

            “I’m all that’s left,” Jenner repeats. “I’m sorry.” He leads them to another room silently, giving them a chance to let the information sink in. He makes a stop at a lab to pick up the supplies he needs for the blood draws, before taking them to a lecture room.

            The rest of the group settles in to wait their turn, sitting in chairs or on the floor against the wall. Rick and Daryl stand side-by-side next to the door, ready for any surprises, careful not to get too comfortable yet. Shane goes first, and one-by-one they let Jenner take their blood.

            “What’s the point?” Andrea asks when it’s her turn. “If we’re all infected we’d all be running a fever.”

            “I’ve already broken every rule in the book letting you in here. Let me just at least be thorough.” He pulls the needle out of her arm, untying the rubber from her arm. “All done.”

            Andrea stands up, becoming light headed. “Ooh,” she breaths.

            Jacqui steadies her as Jenner asks with concern, for her or for him, Rick’s not sure, “Are you okay?”

            Jacqui answers for her. “She hasn’t eaten in days. None of us have.”

            Jenner doesn’t say anything, just finishes taking blood. When he’s done, they file back out of the room, Jenner up front with Rick and Shane, and Daryl bringing up the rear. He stops at the lab again to drop off the vials before taking him to the cafeteria. Jenner then proceeds to shock them all by providing plenty of food and drinks.

            That night they eat good. They shove some tables together and sit around them in a circle, eating for the first time in days and laughing for the first time in weeks.

            Dale stands, pouring all of the adults wine before telling Lori as he hands her a glass, “You know, in Italy, children have a little bit of wine with dinner. And in France.”

            “Well, when Carl is in Italy or France, he can have some then,” Lori says, covering the boys glass with her hand.

            Rick snorts lightly from his spot on the other side of their son. “What’s it gonna hurt? Let him try it.” Not wanting to fight, the woman lifts her hand, shrugging at Dale to fill Carl’s glass.

            “There you are, young lad,” Dale says as he hands the little alpha his own small glass of wine.

All of the adults wait and watch for his reaction to his first taste of alcohol. He lifts the glass to his lips with a smile before taking a sip. They watch his face scrunch up in disgust, before setting the glass back down on the table, saying, “Eww.”

Everybody laughs at the reaction, Lori saying, “That’s my boy. That’s my boy. Good boy.”

“Yuck,” Carl says, shaking his head. “That tastes nasty.”

“Well, just stick to soda pop there, bud,” Shane tells the boy.

“Not you, Glenn,” Daryl says loudly as he stands, refilling wine glasses around the table.

“What?” the Korean kid asks with a confused smile.

“Keep drinkin’, little man. I wanna see how red your face can get.” The men laugh, and Daryl and Rick share an amused smile from across the table.

Rick glances at Jenner sitting at the end of the table, watching them, and taps his glass with a knife to get everyone’s attention as he stands up. “It seems t’me we haven’t thanked our host properly.”

“He is more than just our host,” T-Dog speaks up, raising his glass. “Here’s to you, doc.”

The rest of them raise their glasses in a toast. “Hear hear!”

“Booyah!” Daryl calls out.

“Booyah!” others repeat.

Rick nods at Jenner. “Thank you. Thank you, doctor.” The other alpha raises his glass back to Rick in response.

Shane speaks up, effectively ending the laughter. “So when are you gonna tell us what the hell happened here, doc? All the uh—the other doctors that were supposed to be figuring out what happened, where are they?”

“We’re celebrating, Shane,” Rick says sharply. “Don’t need to do this now,” he tells the other alpha as he sits down.

“Whoa, what a second. This is why we’re here, right?” Shane asks Rick. “This was your move—supposed to find all the answers. Instead we—” he chuckles mirthlessly. “We found him,” he huffs, pointing at Jenner. “Found one man. Why?”

“Well, when things got bad, a lot of people just left, went off to be with their families. And when things got worse, when the military cordon got overrun, the rest bolted,” Jenner explains evenly.

“Every last one?” Shane asks doubtfully.

“No,” Jenner replies easily. “Many couldn’t face walking out the door. They…opted out. There was a rash of suicides…That was a bad time.”
            “You didn’t leave,” Andrea points out. “Why?”

“I just kept working, hoping to do some good.”

“Dud, you are such a buzzkill, man,” Glenn tells Shane, the mood ruined.

No longer hungry, Jenner leads everyone to the rooms they’ll be staying in. “Most of the facility is powered down, including housing, so you’ll have to make do here. The couches are comfortable, but there are cots in storage if you like. There’s a rec room down the hall that you kids might enjoy.” The doctor pauses in his tour, bending down to Carl and Sophia’s level. “Just don’t plug in the video games, okay?” The kids nod quickly. “Or anything that draws power.” He straightens and addresses the rest of the group. “The same applies—if you shower, go easy on the hot water.” With that, he continues walking.

Glenn looks back at the group in awe and asks, “Hot water?”

“That’s what the man said,” T-Dog says with a grin. The betas smile at each other before taking off towards the showers, laughing. The rest of them laugh too as they split up into rooms. Carol and Lori take the kids, Andrea gets one to herself, and the rest of the men pair up. Rick and Daryl make sure to get a room together, and in all the happiness, no one pays much attention.

There are almost enough stalls for everyone, and they each take their turn, in the heavenly, though short, showers.

When everyone else has washed up and headed to bed, Daryl takes his turn. Deciding to take a leap, Rick hesitantly moves toward the omega’s stall. In only a towel, the alpha listens to the water run a few feet away. “Daryl?” he calls out nervously.

“Rick?” the man asks, surprised and a little wary.

“Yeah.”

“What’s up?”

Rick takes a deep breath before blurting, “CanIjoinyou?”

“…What?”

Embarrassed, Rick starts backpedaling. “You know what? Forget it, I’m drunk, I’ll just g—”

“Yes.”

Rick freezes. Now he’s the one asking, “What?”

“You heard me. Don’t make me say it again,” Daryl begs tersely. “Just don’t—” he cuts himself off.

Rick steps closer, calmer now, and asks, “Don’t what, Daryl?”

“I—I’m not—just don’t laugh or anythin’, okay?”

“Why would I—?”

“And I don’t want your pity either.”

“Daryl—”

“Just get your ass in here already, alright? You heard the Doc. We ain’t got all night.”

“Okay,” Rick replies, befuddled. He sets his clean clothes and the bottle of Jack down on a bench before removing his towel. Standing there naked, his nerves making him self-conscious. He looks down at himself. He’s still unbelievably thin from his coma—the last six days of little to no food didn’t help either—and his ribs stick out more than ever. Not to mention the gunshot wound on his side.

Just when he’s about talked himself out of this—it’s too soon, Daryl won’t want his bony body, he only said yes because he felt pressured—Daryl speaks up, nervous too. “Rick? You still there?”

“Y—” he clears his throat. “Yeah.”

“Well, are you comin’ or not?”

Rick shoves his fears away, remembering why he decided to do this. “Yeah, I’m comin’.” Steeling himself like he’s about to face walkers and not just his naked mate, Rick steps forward, finally standing in the opening of Daryl’s shower stall.

The omega’s standing with his back to Rick, washing up under the stream of hot water. To the anyone else, Daryl would look at complete ease, his back to an alpha like it didn’t mean anything. But between Rick’s trained eye and how well he’s gotten to know Daryl in the last few days, he can see the tension in the man’s shoulders. His head is bowed slightly, his shoulders hunched forward, subconsciously trying to protect himself from Rick’s reaction.

Rick sees the tattoos and the scars—his heart breaks yet again for this man and Rick wonders if his heart will ever not hurt for him, if he’ll ever not want to find the people who made him react like a scared, abused animal and make them pay—but it’s the way Daryl’s holding himself, like he fully expects the alpha to react in disgust, or maybe even anger, that makes him step forward, wanting to put an end to his fears.

So, Rick approaches him slowly, but not quietly, not wanting to take the chance of scaring him, though he suspects the hunter’s trained ear didn’t need the extra effort. He vaguely appreciates the beauty of the man in front of him, but that’s not what this is. Keeping that in mind, he stops right behind the man and whispers, his hand raised, hovering, but not touching. “Daryl.”

Not needing the question, the omega nods jerkily and Rick lays his hand on Daryl’s shoulder, the skin twitching at the touch, but not reacting otherwise. Rick though, gasps at the new emotions he feels. There’s fear, and shame, and embarrassment, and insecurity. There’s also hope, and that’s what Rick focuses on. He pushes all of the admiration, acceptance, pride, joy, fortune, lust, gratitude, happiness, lust, want, and love he feels when he looks at his omega.

The last one surprises them both, though maybe it shouldn’t surprise Rick. He’s only known Daryl for four of the six days he’s been awake, but the man is his mate. He’s the person who was made for Rick. His other half. Rick just has to look at him, and he instinctively knows his next move, can practically hear what’s going through his mind. He’s felt what Daryl’s felt, feels what he feels. Rick may not know the man’s favorite color, or where all of his scars came from, but he got closer to Daryl in four days than he got to Lori in fourteen years.

“Rick,” Daryl whispers, his voice cracking.

The alpha doesn’t say anything, just uses the hand on Daryl’s shoulder to turn him around. The omega’s eyes are squeezed shut, head still bowed, when they come face to face, and Rick raises his free hand to cup Daryl’s cheek, raising his head.

“Open your eyes, Sweetheart.”

Daryl does as he’s told, slowly. Rick gives him a reassuring smile, and he can feel Daryl’s hope grow and some of his anxiety ease. “You’re beautiful, Daryl,” he says softly, putting as much conviction as he can into the bond, not giving him a chance to doubt his sincerity.

Disbelief fills his eyes at the same time Rick feels it through their connection, and he shakes his head. “No, I’m not.” He looks down at himself, gesturing to the scars that litter his body. “I’m broken, and pathetic, and an asshole, an—and—”

“Stop,” Rick says, moving the hand on his cheek so his thumb presses against Daryl’s lips to silence him. “You aren’t any of those things…Well, maybe an asshole,” he says with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood, before turning serious. “But that’s only because that’s all you know, it’s all you’ve seen. Right? You may act loud and mean and violent, but that’s not how you feel, in here,” he says, dropping his hand and presses it against Daryl’s chest, right over his heart. “You have fire, and passion, and so much heart. I didn’t need to be your mate to see how strongly you feel. And yes, there’s anger, and heartbreak, but Daryl—you’ve felt that in me too. It doesn’t make you bad or broken or weak, just because you care. And the fact that you’ve been through so much and still continue to fight, it’s—it’s…beautiful.”

Feeling the next argument rising in Daryl, Rick continues before he can interrupt. “Beautiful—inside and outside.”

Something close to a sob works its way out of Daryl’s throat and he asks, “How can you say that? Look at me.”

Rick pulls the archer forward and wraps him up in his arms, uncaring about their nudity. The alpha tilts his head and whispers, his lips brushing the omega’s ear. “I am Daryl, and that’s why I can say that. These scars? These marks? They break my heart, because I wish you never had to go through that pain. But, they also prove that you’re a survivor. You could have given up a long time ago, and no one could have blamed you. But, you didn’t. You fought. You fought so hard, Sweetheart. And now? Now you don’t have to do it alone anymore. ‘Cause now I get to fight with you. You won’t ever have to be alone again.”

Daryl’s arms grip Rick tight. “You can’t promise that,” he whispers back.

“You’re right, I can’t. Not in the old world, and especially not in this one. But, I can promise you, that if that happens, it won’t ever be my choice. I’ll fight for you, just as hard as I know you’ll fight for me.”

He doesn’t say it—doesn’t think Daryl’s ready to hear it—but he sends him all the love Rick feels for him, and hopes Daryl understands.

“Thank you,” is all Daryl can say in response, his emotions a confusing mess of feelings. There’s gratitude for Rick, and hope and fear for their future. There’s still some embarrassment and shame he feels for himself, and Rick hopes he can cure that as they go. And lastly, there’s confusion and love, like Daryl doesn’t understand what he’s feeling, but is willing to let Rick feel anyway, rather than try to suppress it.

“There’s no need to thank me Daryl. You never have to thank me for that.”

The rest of the shower is spent in silence, words no longer needed. They help each other wash up, not wanting to lose their connection. Other parts of their bodies respond in excitement, but they don’t focus on it. Instead they focus on the sensuality and intimacy of the action, enjoying the new sensations, and by the time they’re done, the water has run cold, effectively taking care of their mutual problem.

When they shut off the shower and step out of the stall, Rick uses his towel to dry Daryl off, wanting to take care of his omega this one time. While Daryl gets dressed, in his same old jeans and cutoff flannel, sipping from Rick’s bottle, the former deputy dries himself off. The hunter waits and watches Rick as the alpha finishes getting dressed before handing the bottle over so Rick can take a swig. All finished, they leave the showers together, side-by-side.

They pass Dale as he’s entering his room, and the older man shares a happy smile with Rick as he says, “Hey.”

Rick nods back as he and Daryl continue to their room. When they reach the door, the alpha turns to the other man. “I’m gonna go talk to Jenner, you go ahead and get settled.”

“Kay,” Daryl replies easily. He pats Rick on the stomach as he passes, opening the door and entering, closing the door quietly behind him.

Rick finds the other alpha in the big room, sitting at one of the computer stations. He knocks on one of the computers as he approaches, and Jenner turns in his chair.

“How’s the blood?” Rick asks.

“No surprises.”

Rick nods, passing behind the doctor and says with a tipsy smile, “I came to thank you.”

“You did,” Jenner says, confused.

Rick leans up against another computer station and slides down, sitting on the floor, setting the almost empty bottle of alcohol on the floor beside him. “You all—you all right?” Jenner asks.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Rick says with a wheezy laugh. “You don’t know what it’s like out there. You may think you do, but you don’t. We’d have died out there. It was only a matter of time. There’s too many of those things. My—my boy…my—my mate, I never—I never told ‘em what I really thought. I never hinted, just—just kept it in. Daryl knows though, I think. I don’t have to say anythin’. He’s my mate—Course I don’t have t’say anythin’ when he can feel what I’ve kept in. Kept it in and kept us movin’, you know? Just kept it in. Kept us…”

“It’ll all be okay,” Jenner says, staring at the sad drunk on the floor in front of him, not questioning the new information about Daryl and Rick being mates. “It’ll be okay.”

Rick looks at the man, his knees pulled up and a hand over his mouth, and hopes. Hopes this alpha is right. Hopes that they’ll live to see Carl grow up and he and Daryl’ll live long enough to start their own family.

Thinking of his mate, Rick decides to join Daryl, hopefully before the omega falls asleep. He bids Jenner goodnight and makes his way to their room. He pauses outside the door, not sure if he should knock or not, but then he figures, they shared a shower together, he should be fine. Besides, if Daryl is asleep, he doesn’t want to wake him. This in mind, Rick opens the door, slipping inside quietly. He turns to find Daryl watching at him from his reclined position on a cot, a bottle of liquid amber in his hand. He’s removed jeans and boots, so he’s only in his briefs and cutoff flannel.

Rick gives the man a sleepy smile as he approaches the bed, setting his own bottle on the floor by their new bed. He kicks his shoes and jeans off before flopping down on the bed beside Daryl in his t-shirt and boxers.

“How’d your talk with Jenner go?” Daryl asks, his voice slurring just a bit.

“Depressing,” Rick mumbles into his pillow before turning over enough to look at the omega. “How’d getting shitfaced drunk go?”

“I’m gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow,” Daryl whines in answer to the question before setting the now empty bottle on the floor. He turns over on his side so he and Rick are face-to-face.

“Mmm, you won’t be alone in that,” Rick chuckles.

“Small mercies.”

Rick turns his head to look at Daryl and hisses, sitting up and leaning over to brush his fingers along Daryl’s jaw. “Shane got you good.”

“Mm.”

“You know what he said isn’t true, right? If we hadn’t been so desperate and distracted I would have happily returned the gesture for you.”

“I know. That’s the same shit I grew up hearing from Merle and our dad. Logically, I know there’s nothin’ wrong with bein’ an omega. My ma was an omega, and I’d never treat someone differently ‘cause of their biology, but I still have their voices in my head sometimes. Callin’ me a whore, and a fag, and Darylina; Saying I was a woman ‘cause I could have kids. More shit like that. But, I also know that they’re both’a couple’a drunk, abusive knotheads who don’t know nothin’ ‘bout nothin’, so I learned early on not to trust their word on anythin’…None of what Shane said, or did, is new to me. I can handle him. You said so yourself. I can put him on his ass by myself, and I will if I have to, but he’s not worth it right now.”

Rick doesn’t say anything, just takes Daryl’s hand and lets him feel his sorrow and pride and compassion, his trust and confidence.

Daryl clears his throat and changes the topic. “So, what was so depressing about your talk?”

“Hmm,” Rick hums as he turns over onto his back, his free arm coming up to rest across his eyes. “Just had some things to get off my chest.” Daryl doesn’t say anything, just gives Rick the option to continue or to let it lie. Soon, Rick starts talking again, unable to settle his mind. “Do you think we would’ve made it out there?”

Daryl thinks before asking. “Do you want me to be honest?”

“Always,” Rick answers immediately.

“Not all of us. Not in this world.”

“Are we just putting off the inevitable? There’s too many walkers out there already. It’s never gonna stop. What’s the point?”

Daryl reached over and softly nudged Rick’s chin so he could look him in the eye. “The point is to fight—to not give up. To live for Carl, and Sophia, and us. We have t’try. You told me you loved my scars because they showed that I was a fighter. And you were right—I am. Now you have to fight. I didn’t make it this far, just to give up. So, yeah, maybe the world will never be the same. And, maybe we’ll have t’change to survive. And, yeah, we won’t be able to save everybody. But, this can’t be the end… Maybe this place’ll last, and maybe it won’t. Maybe we’ll have t’move on eventually, but we’ll do it together. I got your back, Rick. And you got mine. That’s how we’ll get through this.”

Rick can only stare, struck speechless by his mate. “I—I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say so much in one night.”

Daryl gives Rick a weak shove. “Oh, fuck off,” he says without any real heat. “See if I try to comfort your ungrateful ass again you—” Daryl’s rant is cut off Rick’s lips on his, effectively silencing him with their first kiss. The omega’s too shocked to reciprocate and Rick starts to pull away, afraid he’s gone too far, Daryl’s emotions just a blank, numb, emptiness, like his brain has shut off.

This fear is what finally spurs Daryl into action and the omega shoves Rick back onto his back and follows, straddling the alpha’s waist. Thought the actions are bold, the kiss is tentative and hesitant, neither wanting to push too far. So, they take it slow, learning what works for each other.

Daryl leans over his alpha, forearms place on either side of Rick’s head, boxing him in. The alpha is happy to let Daryl take the lead, just lays back with his hands on his mate’s waist and let’s Daryl show him what he likes.

Neither is sure how long they lay there, exploring each other’s mouths, only taking breaks to breath. At one point, while Rick’s catching his breath, Daryl kisses and licks his way down Rick’s jaw too his neck, before he beings sucking and biting at the skin.

Unable to help himself, Rick rocks his hips up at the thought and feel of his omega marking him for everyone to see. This action causes them both to gasp as their half-hard erections grind together. It also shocks some sense into Rick.”

“W—wait, Daryl…we gotta slow down,” the alpha says as he tries to slow down his breating, placing his hands on Daryl’s chest and pushing gently.

“Why?” Daryl whines as he sits up some, hands till planted on either side of Rick’s head, panting, mouth red and swollen.

Rick stares at him, almost wishing he hadn’t shaved so Daryl would be covered in beard burn. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Rick explains, his voice rough with want. “Because, I wanna do this right.”

“Should’a known Officer Friendly would be such a gentleman,” Daryl says, but he’s wearing a soft smile, so Rick knows he’s not too upset.

“I want you, obviously,” he says, glancing at his crotch where his boxers are tenting a bit. “But it’s been a long night, we’re both had enough alcohol to be sporting pretty bad hangover’s tomorrow, and I don’t want you to regret any of this.”

“I could never regret this, us,” Daryl says softly.

“You say that now, but Daryl, you’re still too drunk for me to be comfortable doing anything, alright? Maybe it’s the deputy in me. I don’t want our first time to be somethin’ we might not even remember in the morning. Maybe the world’s gone to shit, but that’s not something we can change. This? This is something we have control over. I wanna do this right, like you deserve. That okay with you?”

Daryl leans forward, placing a soft kiss on Rick’s lips and whispers, “Yeah, that’s okay with me.”

Rick can feel just how touched Daryl is by his sentiments, but doesn’t says anything, just kisses him back.

Daryl gets up briefly to shut off the light and Rick uses that time to pull the sheets back. When Rick lays back down on his back, Daryl lays down beside him, using Rick’s chest as a pillow. He throws an arm and a leg over Rick and the alpha just pulls him closer, craving the contact. It’s been too long since he’s shared a bed with someone just to sleep, and never before with someone as solid and strong as Daryl. It’s definitely something he could get used too.

That night they drift off to sleep together, content and safe for the time being.

When Rick wakes the next morning, his first thought is he shouldn’t have drank so much last night. They were right about the hangovers. The second thing he realizes is, he and Daryl moved sometime in the middle of the night so that Rick is spooning Daryl. Despite his headache, Rick smiles, planting a kiss on the back of his mate’s neck, never wanting to move.

Eventually though, nature calls and Rick has to get up. He kisses Daryl’s forehead and leaves the man to sleep, knowing he’ll need it. After a brief stop at the restrooms, Rick heads to the cafeteria, thinking maybe he can sneak some food to take back to Daryl if he doesn’t wake soon. He finds Lori, Carl, Andrea, Dale, Glenn, and T-Dog already up.

“Morning,” Rick says.

“Are you hungover?” Carl asks right away. “Mom said you’d be.”

“Your mom is right,” Rick says grudgingly as he sits down.

“Mom has that annoying habit,” Lori says smugly.

“T-Dog rounds the edge of the counter holding a pan as Jacqui joins them. “Eggs—powdered, but—but I do ‘em good.” Glenn can only moan in pain. “I bet you can’t tell. Protein, helps, the hangover,” he says as he serves the eggs.

Glenn just moans again as Dale chuckles, and Rick asks the group, holding up a medicine bottle, “Where’d all this come from?”

“Jenner,” Lori answers. Rick pops a couple aspirin from the bottle and then stashes a couple to give Daryl later. “He thought we could use it. Some of us, at least,” she says looking at Glenn.

“Don’t ever ever ever let me drink again,” Glenn groans out, Jacqui rubbing his back soothingly. Rick can’t help but laugh inside, knowing that his pain is Daryl’s doing.

“Someone had fun last night,” T-Dog teases Rick as he passes behind him, scooping eggs out onto his plate.

“What?” Rick asks, his brain still a bit slow.

“That hickey on your neck,” the beta says like it’s obvious, and Rick’s mind clicks as he remembers Daryl sucking on his neck last night.

He brings his hand up to his neck, tenderly touching the sore spot and smiles to himself. “Yeah. Right. That.”

“Are you and mom back together?” Carl asks innocently, and the room grows silent.

Rick looks up, remembering he’s not alone, and catches curious looks on everyone’s faces but Lori, who just looks jealous and angry. He turns to his son and decides to be truthful, fully aware that everyone else is listening to their drama. “No, we aren’t. Your mom told you we aren’t together now, right? That we’re divorced, even though we can’t sign any papers?” Carl nods, a little sad. “Well there’s a few reasons for that. Your mom and I grew apart, and when she thought I was dead, she moved on. Maybe we would have had a chance, but we’re done for good now.”

“Why?” Carl asks.

Rick takes a deep breath. He hadn’t talked to Daryl about telling everyone yet, but he’s not gonna lie now. He thinks his mate will understand, but he prays just in case. “Because I met my mate.”

The room goes silent now, everyone staring at him in shock, their minds trying to work out who it is. Suddenly he’s hit with multiple questions from all different directions.

“Who is it?”

“Is it Jenner?”

“Is it Carol?”

“How long have you known?”

“What’s it like?”

Rick raises his hands, calling for silence. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. No it’s not Jenner or Carol. I’ve known for four days. And it’s…amazing. It’s indescribable.”

“You didn’t answer one question, Dad. Who is it?” Carl asks, from his right, and Rick’s relieved to see the excitement on his face.

Taking another deep breath, not sure how everyone will react, including his mate, Rick says, “Daryl.”

…

“What?!”

“Daryl?”

“Our Daryl?”

“Dixon?”

“Are you sure?”

“This has got to be a joke.”

Not happy with their disbelief and questions, Rick lets out a sharp whistle, causing those with hangovers to groan. He stands, his hands planted on the table, looking each of them in the eye. When it’s quiet, Rick says lowly, “I’m going to tell you all this one time, so listen up. Yes, my mate is Daryl Dixon. Yes, I’m serious. No, this is not a joke. We found out in Atlanta when we were trying to rescue Merle. Yes, I’m sure. How? Because we can feel each other’s emotions.” Letting that sink in, Rick pauses before continuing. “Now, I know none of you are very fond of Daryl, but you’re gonna have to get over it. If you’d bother take your heads out of your asses, you see that he’s a good man. He has a bit of a temper, but he cares. He may not know how to show it, but he does. Y’all need to stop lookin’ at him like he’s his brother. Just because he’s a Dixon, doesn’t mean he’s anything like Merle. He hunts for us, putting meat on your plates. He takes watch, looking out for you just like me, or Dale, or Shane, or Andrea does. The man doesn’t need us—could have left after we left Merle to die on that roof—but he didn’t, because we need him. We don’t deserve him, but he stayed to help us anyway. So,” he says a little more calmly as he takes a seat. “I don’t wanna hear anymore bad-mouthin’ about my mate. He doesn’t deserve it. You treat him like you’d treat me.”

“I told you I didn’t need you fightin’ my battles for me, Officer,” A wry voice speaks up from behind him into the quiet room.

Rick smiles, ducking his head as he feels his mate come up behind him. He tips his head back to find Daryl looking down at him. “I know, but it was either that or start hitting people. Your battles are my battles now. You said you’d support me, then I get to support you too.”

Daryl leans forward, planting a firm, if upside down, kiss on Rick’s lips for everyone to see. “Good morning to you too,” Rick says as Daryl pulls up a seat and the alpha makes room beside him.

“Hey,” Shane says as he enters, head down and oblivious to what’s happening.

Either too stunned or angry at him, no one replies. Looking for a way to break the awkward silence, T-Dog asks Shane, “The hell happened to you? Your neck.”

Shane briefly touches the marred skin before saying, “I must’ve done it in my sleep.”

“Never seen you do that before,” Rick says evenly, suspicious.

“Me neither,” Shane says, staring into his cup, unable to look Rick in the eye. He glances as Lori as he says, “Not like me at all.”

Not caring what’s going on between them, Rick ignores the looks they trade each other. He just gives Daryl a smile, nudging his plate over to share and giving him the aspirin he had saved for his mate.

“Morning,” Jenner says as he enters, the last of them to join.

“Hey, Doc.,” a few of them reply.

Dale speaks up, “Doctor, I don’t mean to slam you with questions first thing—”

“—but you will anyway,” Jenner finishes as he pours himself some coffee.

“We didn’t come here for the eggs,” Andrea says pointedly.

Jenner turns and looks at all of them, finding everybody already staring at him expectedly. He nods and with a “follow me,” they all trail back to the big room.

Approaching one of the desks, he types a few things on a keyboard as he says, “Give me playback of TS-19.”

“Playback of TS-19,” VI replies automatically, the large screen in front of them loading.

“Few people ever got a chance to see this. Very few,” Jenner tells them.

“Is that a brain?” Carl asks, intrigued.

“An extraordinary one. Not that it matters in the end. Take us in for the E.I.V..”

“Enhanced internal view,” VI responds, the image on the screen changing.

“What are those lights?” Shane asks as they watch the brain’s synapses fire.

“It’s a person’s life—experiences, memories. It’s everything. Somewhere in all that organic wiring, all those ripples of light, is you—the thing that makes you unique. And human.”

“You don’t make sense, ever?” Daryl asks and Rick hides a smile.

“Those are synapses, electric impulses in the brain that carry all the messages. They determine everything a person says, does, or thinks, from the moment of birth, to the moment of death.”

“Death?” Rick asks as he steps forward. “That’s what this is, a vigil?”

“Yes,” the doctor answers as he stares at the screen. “Or rather the playback of the vigil.”

“This person died?” Andrea asks. “Who?”

“Test subject 19. Someone who was bitten, and infected…and volunteered to have us record the process…VI, scan forward to the first event.”

“Scanning to first event.”

They watch as black seeps into the brain, killing it. “What is that?” Glenn asks.

“It invades the brain like meningitis. The adrenal glands hemorrhage, the brain goes into shutdown, then the major organs… Then death…Everything you ever were or ever will be…Gone.”

“Is that what happened to Jim?” Sophia asks her mother.

“Yes,” Carol answers.

Jenner notices Andrea crying and Lori explains, “She lost somebody two days ago. Her sister.”

“I lost someone too,” the doctor tells Andrea. “I know how devastating it is.”

The female alpha can only nod, and Jenner tells VI, “Scan to the second event.”

“Scanning to second event.”

“The resurrection times vary wildly. We had reports of it happening in as little as three minutes. The longest we heard of was eight hours. In the case of this patient, it was two hours, one minute…seven seconds.”

They watch as synapses start firing, this time red instead of blue. “It restarts the brain?” Lori asks.

“No, just the brain stem. Basically, it gets them up and moving.”

“But they’re not alive?” Rick asks for confirmation.

“You tell me.”

Rick shakes his head. “It’s nothing like before. Most of that brain is dark.”

“Dark, lifeless, dead. The frontal lobe, the neocortex, the human part—that doesn’t come back. The you part. Just a shell driven by mindless instinct.”

They watch a bullet slice through head of the walker and Carol says, “God. What was that?”

“He shot his patient in the head,” Andrea answers. “Didn’t you?”

Jenner doesn’t answer, just says, “VI, power down the main screen and the workstations.”

“Powering down main screen and workstations.”

“You have no idea what it is, do you?” Andrea asks agrily.

“It could be microbrial, viral, parasitic, fungal.”

“Or the wrath of god?” Jacqui asks.

“There is that.”

“Somebody must know something. Somebody, somewhere,” Andrea says desparately.

“There are others, right? Other facilities?” Carol asks hopefully.

“There may be some. People like me.”

“But you don’t know? How can you not know?” Rick asks.

“Everything went down. Communications, directives—all of it. I’ve been in the dark for almost a month.”

“So it’s not just here,” Andrea states. “There’s nothing left anywhere. Nothing. That’s what you’re really saying, right?”

Jenner doesn’t say anything and that’s an answer in itself.

“Jesus,” Jacqui whispers as Andrea shakes her head.

“Man, I’m gonna get shitfaced drunk again,” Daryl says as he steps up behind Rick, leaning his head on Rick’s shoulder. The alpha reaches up with one hand, laying it on Daryl’s neck and uses his other to grab one of the omega’s free hands, while Daryl’s other hand grips Rick’s waist.

Dale speaks up, worried. “Dr. Jenner, I know this has been taxing for you and I hate to ask one more question, but…that clock—it’s counting down. What happens at zero?” Everyone looks over to the large timer lit up on the wall. There’s only an hour left.

“The basement generators—they run out of fuel.”

“And then?” Rick asks. Not getting an answer, Rick looks up. “VI, what happens when the power runs out?”

“When the power runs out, facility-wide decontamination will occur.”

Not liking the sound of that, Rick, Shane, Glenn, and T-Dog head to the basement in a rush, sending everyone else to go pack their things.

“Decontamination—what does that mean?” Glenn asks anxiously.

“I don’t like the way Jenner clammed up,” Shane says. “The way he just wandered off like that.”

“What’s wrong with him? Seriously, man, is he nuts, medicated, what?” T-Dog asks.

There’s a map on the wall at the bottom of the stairs, and Rick looks at it, finding what they need. “In there,” he points to the right before moving in that direction. Flashlights ready, they open the door and switch on the light.

They search the basement in pairs, only finding empty oil drums and useless generators. The power goes out while they’re searching, turning the emergency lights on.

The four men hurry back up the stairs, and Rick can hear Daryl yelling, “Hey! Hey, what the hell does that mean? Hey, man, I’m talking to you. What do you mean it’s shuttin’ itself down? How can a building do anything?”

“You’d be surprised,” Jenner says.

“Jenner, what’s happening?” Rick asks the doctor comes down the stairs into the big room, Daryl right behind him.

“The system is dropping all the nonessential uses of power. It’s designed to keep the computers running to the last possible second. That started as we approached the half-hour mark. Right on schedule,” he says, pointing to the clock. Jenner stops and everyone just watches, waiting. The doctor offers Daryl his bottle of alcohol back and Daryl rips it out of his hand, frustrated with the lack of answers.

“It was the French,” Jenner says randomly.

“What?” Andrea asks.

“They were the last ones to hold out as far as I know. While our people were bolting out the doors and committing suicide in the hallways, they stayed in the labs till the end. They thought they were close to a solution.”

“What happened?” Jacqui asks.

“The same thing that’s happening here. No power grid. Ran outta juice.” Jenner turns away, walking up to the workstations. “The world runs on fossil fuel. I mean, how stupid is that?”

“Let me tell you—” Shane starts after Jenner.

“To hell with it, Shane. I don’t even care,” Rick says, stopping the angry alpha. He turns to their group. “Daryl grab our things. Everybody, get your stuff. We’re getting out of here now!”

Everyone moves to do as they’re told but Shane and he yells as the alarm starts blaring. “What’s that?!”

“What’s that?” Carl asks from his father’s side.

“30 minutes to decontamination,” VI announces and the countdown pops up on the main screen.

“Doc, what’s goin’ on here now?!” T-Dog yells.

“Everybody, y’all heard Rick,” Shane shouts at the group. “Get your stuff and let’s go! Go now! Go!”

They all move leave, but the doors start closing. “Did you just lock us in? He just locked us in!” Glenn shouts.

Daryl raises his bottle, moving towards Jenner and yelling, “You son of a bitch! You locked us in here!”

“Daryl!” Rick yells, cutting through the computer stations to intercept his angry omega. “Daryl! Stop!” he puts some alpha into it.

The hunter does as he’s told, staring into his alpha’s eyes, and reminds himself that he trusts Rick. With a nod, he turns away, pacing like a caged animal.

Rick turns to the doctor. “Hey, Jenner, open that door now.”

“There’s no point. Everything topside is locked down. The emergency exits are sealed.”

“Well, open the damn things,” Daryl says.

“That’s not something I control. The computers do. I told you once that front door closed, it wouldn’t open again. You heard me say that… It’s better this way.”

“What is?” Rick asks hoarsly. “What happens in 28 minutes?” Jenner turns to his computer, and angry, Rick yells. “What happens in 28 minutes?!”

“You know what this place is?!” Jenner yells back, standing up. “We protected the public from very nasty stuff!... Weaponized smallpox!... Ebola strains that could wipe out half the country! Stuff you don’t want getting out! Ever!” Rant over, Jenner sits back down, and says calmly, “In the event of a catastrophic power failure—in a terrorist attack, for example—H.I.T.’s are deployed to prevent any organisms from getting out.”

“H.I.T.’s?” Rick asks.

“VI, define.”

“H.I.T.’s—high-impulse thermobaric fuel-air explosives consist of a two-stage aerosol ignition that produces a blast wave of significantly greater power and duration than any other known explosive except nuclear. The vacuum-pressure effect ignites the oxygen at between 5,000 degrees and 6,000 degrees and is useful when the greatest loss of life and damage to structures is desired.”

By the time VI is done explaining, Rick has pulled Daryl into his arms and the women and the children are clinging to their moms, all four of them crying.

“It sets the air on fire,” Jenner says lowly. “No pain. An end to sorrow, grief…regret. Everything.”

Rick and Daryl move to the door and Daryl throws his bottle at it, the glass shattering. “Open the damn door!” the omega yells.

“Out of my way!” Shane yells, running to the door, an axe in his hand. As he starts pounding on the metal with it, T-Dog throws Daryl another one. Everybody else watches as the two men hit the door over and over again, to no effect.

“You should’ve left well enough alone,” Jenner says. “It would’ve been so much easier.”

“Easier for who?” Lori asks.

“All of you. You know what’s out there—a short, brutal life and an agonizing death.” HE turns to Andrea. “Your—your sister—what was her name?”

“Amy.”

“Amy. You know what this does. You’ve seen it.” He turns to Rick. “Is that really what you want for your mate and son?”

“I don’t, want, this,” Rick says emphatically.

“Can’t make a dent,” Shane says tiredly.

“Those doors are designed to withstand a rocket launcher. You do want this. Last night, you said you knew it was only a matter of time before everybody you loved was dead.”

“What?” Lori breaths.

“What, you really said that?” Shane asks. “After all your big talk?”

“I had to keep hope alive, didn’t I?”

“There is no hope,” Jenner says. “There never was.”

“There’s always hope,” Rick argues, watching his mate continue to hack at the metal wall. He turns to Jenner. “Maybe it won’t be you, maybe not here, but somebody, somewhere—”

“What part of ‘everything is gone’ do you not understand?” Andrea asks from her seat on the ground.

“Listen to your friend,” Jenner tells him. “She gets it. This is what takes us down. This is… our extinction event.

“This isn’t right,” Carol says, crying. “You can’t just keep us here.”

“One tiny moment—a millisecond. No pain.”

“My daughter doesn’t deserve to die like this.”

“Wouldn’t it be kinder, more compassionate to just hold your loved ones and wait for the clock to run down?”

A gun cocks and Shane approaches Jenner, pointing his shotgun at him. “Shane, no!” Rick yells.

“Out of my way, Rick! Stay out of my way! Open that door or I’m gonna blow your head off. Do you hear me?!”

Trying to talk him down, Rick says, “Brother, brother, this is not the way. You do this, we will never get out of here.”

“Shane, you listen to him,” Lori orders.

“It’s too late,” Shane murmurs.

Rick tries again. “He dies, we all—” Shane starts yelling. “—we all die! Shane!”

Shane pulls the gun at the last second, hitting the computers as he continues to fire the gun. The two alphas struggle for the gun and Rick soon gets the upper hand, taking the shotgun and elbowing Shane in the face, sending him to the ground. Rick stands over him, gun raised, ready to bring the butt of it down on him.

“Are you done now? Are you done?” Rick asks.

“Yeah, I guess we all are,” Shane says.

Rick turns, leaving the other alpha on the floor, and hands T-Dog the shotgun. He meets Daryl’s eyes, who had come down during the commotion, and seeing the support in them, turns back to Jenner.

“I think you’re lying.”

“What?” the doctor asks, surprised.

“You’re lying, about no hope. If that were true, you’d have bolted with the rest or taken the easy way out. You didn’t. You chose the hard path. Why?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. It always matters. You stayed when others ran. Why?”

“Not because I wanted to. I made a promise…to her,” he says, pointing at the main screen. “My mate.”

“Test subject 19 was your mate?” Lori asks.

“She begged me to keep going as long as I could. How could I say no?” Rick listens as Daryl goes back to pounding on the door. “She was dying. It should’ve been me on that table. I wouldn’t have mattered to anybody. She was a loss to the world. Hell, she ran this place. I just worked here. In our field, she was an Einstein. Me? I—I’m just… Edwin Jenner. She could’ve done something about this. Not me.”

“Your wife didn’t have a choice. You do. That’s—that’s all we want—a choice, a chance.”

“Let us keep trying as long as we can,” Lori says.

Jenner stares at them for a moment before giving in. “I told you topside’s locked down. I can’t open those.” With that, he goes to the device and opens the doors.

“Come on!” Daryl yells as the door opens right in front of him.

“Let’s go! Come on, lets go!” Glenn yells, running for the door.

Rick waits behind as everyone yells at each other to move. “There’s your chance. Take it,” Jenner tells him.

“I’m grateful,” Rick says.

“The day will come when you won’t be.” Jenner takes the hand Rick’s holding out and uses it to pull him in, whispering into his ear.

Rick stares at the man in shock, unable to move until Daryl comes back and starts pulling him towards the door. He puts the new information out of his head, focusing on getting out.

“He, we’ve got four minutes left! Come on!” Glenn yells.

In the end, Jacqui chooses to stay behind, and Andrea and Dale barely make it out. They had just enough time to grab their gun bags before rushing up-stairs. Carol saves the day when she produces the grenade she took from Rick’s clothes the first day he stayed at camp.

They drive away from the C.D.C., one person short and with less supplies than they had going in.

The caravan stops just outside of Atlanta two days later to prepare for their long trip. Rick uses the time to radio Morgan. He tells them of their time at the C.D.C and what’s to come. They have 125 miles to go, and Rick’s worried. They’re low on supplies, gas, and food, with a long, hard, journey ahead of them.

When the caravan starts up again, they’re down to one car, the RV, and Daryl on his motorcycle. Rick spends the first day telling stories to Carl that he can’t remember, and wishing he was on the bike with Daryl, if just to get away from Lori and her hostile attitude.

The roadblock was a gift in the sense that Rick wouldn’t be stuck in a car with his ex-wife anymore. Daryl leads them as far as he can before the hose on the RV gives out.

“I said it. Didn’t I say it? A thousand times. Dead in the water.”

“Problem Dale?” Shane asks as everybody gathers outside the RV.

“Just a small mater of being stuck in the middle of nowhere with no hope of—” the older beta trails off as they watch Daryl start rifling through one of the abandoned cars. “Okay, that was dumb.”

“If you can’t find a radiator hose here…” Shane trails off.

“There’s a whole bunch of stuff we can find,” Daryl says.

“I can siphon more fuel from these cars for a start,” T-Dog says.

“Maybe some water,” Carol says.

“Or food,” Glenn says hopefully.

Upset and incredulous, Lori speaks up, causing everyone to stop and look at her. “This is a graveyard. I don’t know how I feel about this.”

They trade some uncomfortable looks, but they eventually ignore her, continuing with their tasks.

T-Dog moves to retrieve their gas cans and says, “All right, all right. Here we go.”

“Come on, y’all. Just look around, gather what you can,” Shane says.

While everyone starts scavenging, Rick decides to take watch, keeping an eye out for walkers. He hands over the binoculars to Dale so he can watch from the top of the RV. Andrea moves back into the RV and the alpha watches everyone move through the cars, Daryl and T-Dog siphoning gass, Glenn and Shane working on the radiator hose, Carol and Lori searching cars, and the two pups wandering around.

He glances up at Dale and the older man says, “It’s all good.”

Rick smiles as they watch Shane soak himself in water, but it’s short lived when Dale spots something coming up behind them. Rick raise the rifle to look through the scope, and is alarmed to find walkers. Not one, or two, or even ten. There’s tens if not hundreds of them. “Oh, Christ,” he whispers to himself before going to warn the others. His first thought is of Carl, who can’t protect himself. He finds Lori first, and calls out quietly. “Lori, under the cars.” He turns, spotting the kids and says, “Carl, Sophia, get down now.”

Leaving the kids with their mothers, he moves quickly, looking for Daryl and T-Dog, needing to warn them. He finds them still filling gas cans and touches their shoulders. When the spin towards him, he raises a finger to his lips and motions for them to hide. T-Dog slips into one of the empty cars, shutting the door quietly hiding, and Rick and Daryl slide under a truck, back to back—or as close as they can get under a truck—and watch their surroundings.

It’s only when they hear Sophia’s screaming that they move. They slip out just in time to see two walkers chase Sophia off the road and down into the woods. Without a word, they follow, keeping low and quiet so they don’t attract any more of them. Hopping over the guard rail and tumbling down the hill, they’re quick to give chase. They can see Sophia running through the trees and move to intercept her, running in the same direction as them.

She falls, but Rick’s there when she gets up. He shushes her as she screams in fright. “Are you all right? Are you okay?”

“Shoot them!” she yells, reaching for his python.

“No. No! Those walkers on the road would hear it. Then it wouldn’t be just two, it’d be hundreds.” Rick glances at Daryl who’s standing guard with his crossbow. “We have to get her someone safe, just in case.”

Daryl nods before leading them away. They come up to a creek and Rick goes down first, Daryl handing Sophia off. While Daryl hops down into the water, Rick takes the girl to a small hole to hide in and tries to get the frantic girl to focus on him.

“Sophia, you have to do exactly as I say. Hid in there. Squeeze in tight. Stay out of sight until Daryl and I take care of these two. If we tell you to run, I want you to head back to the highway. Back to the others, back the way we came. And keep the sun over your left shoulder. Okay?” She nods, and he urges her in. “Go, go, go.”

Daryl taps on Rick’s shoulder and hands the alpha one of his arrows before signaling him to hide behind one of the trees. Without words, Daryl explains that he’s gonna be bait, wait for the walkers to step off the bank and into the water, while Rick comes up from behind.

And it works perfectly. Staying in Sophia’s sight, Daryl takes the first one out easy with his crossbow, and so focused on the omega, the second one missed Rick coming up behind. Two bolts, to walkers. They wait quietly for any more surprises, but nothing happens.

Daryl collects his arrows while Rick collects Sophia and the alpha carries the little girl back to the highway. On their way, they encounter two more walkers, but Daryl takes them out easily. The walk isn’t too far, the run having been short, and soon they break through the trees to find the rest of the group waiting by the guardrail. There are sighs of relief and Carol yells for her daughter as Carl yells for his dad. Rick carries Sophia up the hill carefully, and hands her over to Carol. Before he can even step over the rail, Carl has his arms wrapped around his father’s waist, unconcerned for the metal between them.

Carol thanks him profusely and he waves it off. “I wouldn’t have been able to do it without Daryl. I was out there with only a gun, and was faced with two walkers. He saved our asses,” he says fondly, glancing over to his right, where the omega’s straddling the guardrail, his hands holding onto his crossbow strap like always.

“Thank you,” Carol tells Daryl, and Rick’s mate shrugs it off, embarrassed by the attention.

Everyone is shocked when Carl lets go of Rick, just to move to Daryl, hugging him around the waist the same what he hugged his dad. “Thank you,” the boy whispers to the frozen man. Daryl hesitantly brings his hands up and pats the boy on the back, looking up to find Rick staring at them with a bright, goofy smile on his face. The alpha watches as Daryl dips his head, his ears turning bright red, as he tentatively hugs his pup back like he doesn’t know how to. The thought that that’s probably true breaks Ricks heart, so he moves towards them, wrapping his two most important people in the world, into his arms, Carl squished between them. More comfortable with Rick, Daryl’s less hesitant to hug him back, though careful not to crush the pup.

The three of them stand there for a moment before someone clears their throat, a few people chuckling. Carol, Sophia, T-Dog, Glenn, and Dale are watching them with smiles, while Lori and Shane’s expressions are a little more complicated. There’s definitely jealousy, envy, and anger there, along with confusion in Shane’s, indicating he hadn’t yet known about he and Daryl.

Rick holds back a sigh, not wanting them to ruin the moment. He does pull back enough to let Carl go, allowing his son to go check on his friend. Rick doesn’t let go to Daryl though, and the omega seems content to allow it. Everyone safe, they go back to their tasks, though Carol takes Sophia into the RV.

That night, finding a place to sleep is difficult. They spread out between the RV—inside and on top—and they’re second car. There are no problems though, and they start early the next morning.

“Me and Daryl are gonna go hunting, see if we can’t get some real meat while you guys finish scavenging.

“Dale, keep on those repairs. We've got to get this RV ready to move,” Rick tells the older beta.

“We won’t stay here a minute longer than we have to,” the man assures him. “Good luck out there.”

Rick looks at Carl, “Listen to your mom, alright?”

“Can't I come with you? I want to help. I’ll be quiet and I’ll listen to everything you say. Please?” the boy pleads.

Rick glances at Daryl, and getting a shrug, he turns to Lori. The female beta shrugs too and says, “Your call. I can’t always be the bad guy.”

Dale speaks up next. “He has you and Daryl to look after him. You two kept Sophia safe. I'd say he’s in good hands.”

“Okay. Okay. But, always within our sight. No exceptions,” he warns his son. Carl nods happily and the three of them leave the rest of the group to their jobs. All three of them arm themselves, Daryl with his bow and knife, Rick with his python and knife, and Carl with one of the smaller knifes from the kit he found on one of the dead bodies on the highway.

Daryl spends the better part of the morning trying to teach the Grimes boys the basics; How to move quietly, how to look for prints, how to read movement in the brush on the ground, how to tell if branches were broken naturally or unnaturally.

They take a break long enough to eat some of the food they brought from the highway. They’re just getting back to the trail when church bells start ringing. Daryl looks at Rick, an unspoken question in his eyes.

The former deputy shakes his head. “Leave it. Even if it is just people, it could be a trap. I don’t wanna risk it, not with Carl. It should be far enough away that any walkers it attracts won’t be our problem.”

Daryl nods back without question and continues following the deer they’re tracking. Daryl’s already taken out a few squirrels, now tied up and hanging from Carl’s shoulder, but they were excited to find the hoof prints. Focusing on finding the four-legged animal, Daryl put a stop to their hunting lessons for the day.

They’ve been tracking it for close to two miles when they hear a twig snap. They all freeze and Daryl holds up a hand, signaling them to stay put while he moves forward.

“Rick,” is all Daryl says, and the other two approach slowly. They watch the buck step out into the clearing and the omega raises his crossbow.

Catching the look of wonder on his son’s face, Rick whisper, placing a hand on his mate’s shoulder. “Daryl.” The omega looks back in question and Rick nods to the little alpha. Seeing the look on Carl’s face too, Daryl lowers his bow and the two men step aside, letting the boy through.

They stand back, sharing a smile as they watch Carl slowly inch closer to the deer. When it senses the boy’s presence, the deer’s head swivels. Carl and the deer stare at each other as the alpha inches forward. When he’s close enough, the boy begins to raise his hand.

He’s less than two feet from the buck when they both fall, the gunshot echoing in the woods.

The two men are frozen in shock before Rick starts mumbling, the volume of his voice rising with each exclamation. “Oh no. No, no no. No, no, no, no, no no!”

Rick’s on the ground next to his boy, trying to slow the bleeding when Daryl starts yelling. “Stop right there! Who the fuck are you! Did you do this?!”

A heavy, male beta, Otis, stumbles closer, a rifle in his hand, stuttering out apologies. The man’s lucky he didn’t get a bolt to the forehead, but he offers help. Tells them he has a friend that can help. Rick listens as Daryl forces information from the nervous man. He picks Carl up and runs in the direction of the farmhouse Otis tells them about.

Tired but unwilling to stop, Rick shouts back at the man being forced to run by Daryl. “How far? How far?!”

“Another half mile that way!” the beta shouts, panting. “Hershel. Talk to Hershel! He’ll help your boy!”

Rick’s not sure how long he’s been running when he finally sees the farmhouse. Ehausted and in pain, Rick approaches the porch, a group of people coming out to meet him.

“Was he bit?” the older man, an alpha, calls out to Rick.

“Shot,” Rick corrects. “You your man.”

“Otis?” one of the women asks.

The five of them come down off the porch and Rick says, “He said find Hershel. Is that you? Help me. Help my boy.”

“Get him inside,” the alpha tells him.

Rick follows Hershel inside as the man rolls up his sleeves, calling out orders. “Patricia, I need my full kit. Maggie, painkillers, coagulates—grab everything. Clean towels, sheets, alcohol. In here,” he tells Rick as the women follow his instructions. He lifts the sheets off the bed and Rick lays Carl down. “Pillowcase.”

Dazed and scared, Rick asks, “Is he alive?”

“Pillowcase, quick,” Hershel says again, and Rick listens

“I—Is he alive?” Rick asks again while doing as he’s told.

“Fold it. Make a pad. Put pressure on the wound.” Rick uses the pillowcase to press against the gunshot wound, and Hershel uses a stethoscope to check for a heartbeat. “I’ve got a heartbeat,” the older alpha finally says. “It’s faint.”

“I got it, step back,” the older beta woman tells Rick, taking over for him.

“Maggie, I.V.” Hershel calls out.

A young brunet alpha female pulls on Rick gently. “We need some space.”

“Your name?” Hershel asks.

“Rick.”

“Rick?”

“I’m—I’m Rick,” he says a little more surely.

“Rick, we’re gonna do everything we can, okay?” Hershel asks. “You need to give us some room. Now.”

Rick backs away, nodding. He looks out the window in a daze as he hears Daryl’s voice. The omega is still pushing Otis to move faster. Wanting his mate, Rick meets him out on the porch, removing his hat.

“He’s alive? He’s still alive?” Otis asks hopefully.

Rick doesn’t answer, just wipes his brow off. Rick watches, numb, as Daryl steps up close, pulling a rag out of his pocket. The omega steps forward, steadying Rick with one hand on his shoulder, and uses his other hand to wipe off his alpha’s face.

“You got blood, darlin’,” Daryl explains softly. He uses the rag to try and wipe Rick’s hands off too, but Rick starts losing it again. “Where is he? Is he okay?” Daryl asks in a whisper.

His face crumbling, Rick turns and opens the door, leading the way back inside.

“You know his blood type?” Hershel asks as the they enter the bedroom.

“A-positive, same as mine,” Rick answers, his voice rough.

“That’s fortunate. Don’t wander far. I’m gonna need you.” Hershel looks at Otis. “What happened?”

“I was tracking a buck. Bullent went through it. Went clean through,” the beta says quietly.

“The deer slowed the bullet down, which certainly saved his life. But it did not go through clean. It broke up into pieces. If I can get the bullet fragments out…and I’m countin’ six…”

“I never saw him. Not until he was on the ground,” Otis whispers to the female beta, Patricia.

“Lori doesn’t know. His mother doesn’t know,” Rick says brokenly and Daryl steps closer, wrapping his arms around his mate. Needing the connection, Rick clings to his omega, his anchor. When their skin touches, Rick’s surprised by the amount of pain and empathy he feels from Daryl. Carl may not be his pup biologically, but he’s feeling just as bad, just as scared.

Eventually, Daryl pulls Rick out of the room to wait. They sit side-by-side, hands linked together tight, and Rick asks, “Why’d I let him come with us? I should have left him with Lori.”

Daryl shakes his head. “You can’t do that Rick. We never could’ve predicted this. We were worried about walkers, not other people. I could have told you no. I’m just as responsible as you,” the omega says adamantly.

Rick knows Daryl means every word, doesn’t feel any blame from him; he even feels Daryl’s guilt. But they both know it’s not that easy. They’ll always feel guilt for this, whether Carl lives or not.

Feeling Rick’s doubt and worry, Daryl tells him confidently. “You were in his spot not too long ago. You got through it, he’ll get through it too. You Grimes alphas are stubborn bastards.”

“Is that why I got out of that hospital? Found my family, found you, for it to end here like this? A—a—as some kind of sick joke?”

“No. You got outta that hospital ‘cause you’re too pigheaded to die that way. You got out, so we could finally meet, and so we could take care of your pup in this shitty-ass world.”

Before Rick can point out just how they failed at keeping Carl safe, the door opens and Maggie calls, “Rick…” The two men hurry into the room where Carl is awake again, crying, and whimpering, and screaming in pain. “He needs blood.”

“You, hold him down,” Hershel tells Daryl and the omega listens, giving Rick’s hand one last squeeze before round the bed. Daryl tries to sooth Carl, but the boy continues to cry as Hershel digs out a bullet fragment. “Almost there.”

Carl’s screams get louder and Rick yells, “Stop! You’re killing him!”

“Rick! Do you want him to live?” Hershel asks.

“He needs blood,” Patricia says.

“Then get it!” Daryl yells.       

Soon, Carl quiets down, going unconscious. “Hey, hey, hey. Wait. Wait,” Daryl says worriedly.

“He just passed out,” Hershel assures him. He pulls the metal out and says, “One down… five to go.”

Rick stands, woozy from blood loss, and tells Daryl, “We’ve gotta find Lori. She deserves to know. We need to go get her.”

“You can’t do that,” Hershel says.

“She’s his mother,” Rick explains, like that’ll change his mind. “Her son’s lying here, shot.”

“And he’s going to need more blood.” Hershel looks at Daryl. “He can’t go more than 50 feet from this bed.”

Daryl nods, taking Rick’s hand and guiding him out the door. “He’s stable for now,” Daryl tells Maggie and Otis, who are waiting outside the bedroom. He closes the door and gently pushes Rick into a chair, letting go of his hand. He leans against the wall beside his alpha and lays a hand on Rick’s neck to reestablish the connection.

“Lori has to be here Daryl, she needs to know,” he insists, looking up at Daryl, hoping he’ll understand.

“Okay, I get that,” Daryl says. “No matter what she’s done, she’s his mother. I’ll handle it. But you gotta stay here. Awake or not, blood or not, Carl needs you. He needs his father right now. I’ll handle everything else.”

“You’re right,” Rick says with a wobbly smile.

“I’m always right,” Daryl says smugly before leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to Rick’s lips.

They don’t have to wait long before the door opens up again, Hershel stepping out. Everyone stands and the doctor says, “He’s out of danger for the moment. But I need to remove those remaining gragments.”

“How?” Rick asks. “You saw how he was.”

“I know, and that was the shallowest one. I need to go deeper to get the others… There’s more.”

“Tell me.”

“His belly’s distended, his pressure is dropping, which means there’s internal bleeding. A fragment must have nicked one of the blood vessels… I have to open him up, find the bleeder, and stitch it. And he can’t move while I’m in there—I mean at all. If he reacts the same as before, I’ll sever an artery and he’ll be dead in minutes…To even try this, I have to put him under. But if I do, he won’t be able to breath on his own. Same bad results.”

“What’ll it take?”

“You need a respirator,” Otis speaks up. “What else?”

“The tube that goes with it, extra surgical supplies, drapes, sutures.”

Hopeful, Rick asks, “If you had all that you could save him?”

“If I had all that, I could try.”

“Nearest hospital went up in flames a month ago.” Hershel looks at Otis and the beta is struck with a realization. “The high school.”

“That’s what I was thinking. They set up a FEMA shelter there. They would have everything we need.”

“Place was overrun last time I saw it. You couldn’t get near it. Maybe it’s better now,” Otis says hopefully.

“I said I’d handle everything else,” Daryl speaks up. “Just tell me what I need and how to get there.”

Rick takes Daryl’s hand. “I hate you goin’ alone,” he says lowly.

“I’ll be fine,” the omega assures his mate, linking their fingers and letting Rick feel his determination. “Doc, just write me a list and draw me a map.”

“You won’t need a map,” Otis says. “I’ll take you there. Ain’t but five miles.”

“Otis, no,” Patricia says as she exits the bedroom.

“Honey, we don’t have time for guesswork and I’m responsible. I ain’t gonna sit here while this fella takes this on alone… I’ll be alright.”

“You sure?” Daryl asks.

“Do you even know what any of the stuff he’s talkin’ ‘bout looks like?”

“No,” Daryl grudgingly admits.

“I’ve been a volunteer E.M.T. I do. We can talk ‘bout this till next Sunday, or we could just go do it real quick.”

Daryl just nods in response.

“I should thank you,” Rick tells Otis.

“Wait till that boy of yours is up and around. Then we’ll talk. I’ll gather some things,” Otis says, moving to do just that.

“Where is she, his mom?” Maggie asks.

“Uh, somewhere on the highway, maybe five miles from here. There was a pileup and our RV broke down,” Rick answers, confused.

“I know where you’re talkin’ about. Don’t worry about her, I’ll go get her. You two just worry about that boy in there,” Maggie tells Rick and Daryl.

When Otis is ready, Rick, Daryl, Patricia, and Hershel follow him out. As they approach the truck, Rick lays a hand on Daryl’s shoulder. “Get what you need, and get out,” Rick says as Daryl puts his stuff in the truck. Rick turns his mate around to face him and pushes him gently up against the cab. Their foreheads pressed together, Rick says quietly, “You be careful, alright? You come back to me.” Daryl nods and Rick leans in for a long, sweet kiss, letting Daryl feel all his love, and worry, faith, and hope.

With one last kiss, Rick steps back, pulling out his python. He holds it out to Daryl, but the man doesn’t take it, just shakes his head. “Nah, Rick. I ain't leavin' you here without your gun.”

“You only have the crossbow and your knife. Take it. Please? You’ll need it more than I will.”

Daryl nods, taking the gun and putting it in the waistband of his jeans at his back. They brush arms one more time before Rick steps back and Daryl opens the passenger door. The alpha watches, giving Otis a nod, as they start the truck and drive away, his heart in his throat.

“Let’s check on your boy,” Hershel says from his side, patting his arm before walking toward the house. With one last glance at the truck disappearing down the driveway, Rick follows the older alpha, doing his best to put Daryl out of his head and focus on his son.

Rick spends the next few hours watching Carl's unconscious body and trying not to wonder what’s taking Daryl and Otis so long if the school's only five miles away. Restless, he moves outside onto the porch, Hershel following.

He leans on the railing staring out across the farmland that’s now washed in the colors of a sunset. A little piece of heaven in the new hellish world.