A New Road

Chapter One

Rick's breathing was ragged and harsh, though the leader continued on regardless. Keeping a stern eye on the defiant leader, I knew we'd have to find somewhere soon to fix him up. His shirt was stained heavily with his own blood and though Rick tried to hide it, I saw the expressions consorted with pain after he jolted his injuries from the uneven terrain we were currently hiking through. Though I wasn't a doctor or any good when it came to medical knowledge, I knew this was definitely not a good sign.

The direction we were heading in was unknown to all of us as we'd never investigated this way outside the prison before, or at least I hadn't. Neither of the Grimes' boys spoke up so I assumed they hadn't either. It didn't seem to matter either way. Our only hope now was putting as much ground as we could from the hell we'd left behind and finding somewhere stable to rest and mend. Or at least attempt to.

No one spoke of what had happened, we barely spoke at all really. Carl led the way a little, his head bowed slightly. Studying the boy's back, I say the tension in his shoulders and I eyed the way Carl gripped the gun in his hand. With a death grip. Rick lingered a little behind his son, though was doing a lot more staggering than actually walking, and I brought up the rear, keeping my eyes fixed on the father and son. The screams had long gone out of earshot, though they still echoed in my memories. The images of the massacre still lingered too, but I tried to force them back and focus on the moment. To try and keep pushing forward.

What we were going to do, we hadn't discussed yet. My first thought was that we had to find the others, as surely someone must have survived too. I refused to believe that the three of us were the only ones left. It just wasn't an option. If we had made it out, then someone else had too. I mean, the hope that Sophia had was at the forefront of my mind. I had convinced myself that she had gotten out with Glenn, Maggie and Herschel when they had the chance. They were safe. That's what I wanted to believe.

Up ahead, what looked to be a road could be made out between what seemed to be a never ending cluster of snow-topped trees. I noticed Carl raise his head when he spotted it and the boy's pace picked up a little. At this, Rick's expression fell distressed and he attempted to quicken his own pace but failed miserably. I had to jump forward to steady the man before he fell, but Rick only shrugged my help away when he was balanced on his feet again.

"Don't run off, Carl." The father quickly ordered, his voice hoarse. I noted the boy's shoulders tense again as his father spoke. Swallowing hard, I backed away from Rick and watched the scene unfold. Carl made no reply but made sure he slowed his pace back again, following his father's orders. His head bowed again and I couldn't help but feel tension in the air instantly. We carried on again in silence.

"We should follow it." I suggested once we had finally emerged from the gathering of trees and stepped onto the empty tarmac. We'd been fortunate enough not to have run into any walkers on our travels but the explanation of that could have been put down to the fact that they were all drawn to our once home. It sure wasn't a pleasant thought, even if it had helped us. "It may lead us to a town, we could find a place to hold up?" I tried to keep my tone light and hopeful, hoping that it would ease some of the tension away. Rick didn't reply, he stared down the road with a glazed look in his eye. I noted the angered expression on his son's face at Rick's unresponsive stance. After a while, the boy turned to me.

"Which way should we go?" Carl asked, his eyes solely on me. This startled me - Carl was looking to me for answers, not his father.

The gun he had taken responsibility of was tucked into the holster on his belt, no doubt a gift from Rick, and his sheriff's hat had been pushed back now out of his face now. The stance he had taken up was one that surprised me - one raring to go, confident, strong. This certainly was an altered boy compared to the one I'd seen hours ago, crying into his father's chest, the only word able to describe him being broken. I wasn't sure what to make of this change. His mother and sister had been murdered only hours ago, but Carl stood before me with his face tears free.

"I did what I had to do."

The memories of that day haunted me in that moment as Carl's cold nature then seemed such a mirror image to his behaviour now.

Swallowing hard, I glanced up and down the road. Rick remained unresponsive and I realised that I had to step up now for everyone's sake. I wasn't a leader, that was for sure, but I couldn't let things fall apart while neither Rick nor Carl were capable of stepping up. It was my turn to do something, it seemed. Carl's expression stared back, patient, as he waited for an answer.

"We should go right." I finally breathed, nodding down the road. "Woodbury is in the other direction, so I think it's best we head away from that." Carl nodded, seemingly happy with this justification. "Is that alright, Rick?" The man in question didn't respond and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Carl shaking his head. "Rick?" Hesitantly, I stepped toward the man and placed a hand on his arm. Rick jolted in surprise regardless how careful I had been not to startle him. I couldn't help but flinch back when the battered man turned to me.

"What?" He breathed, his eyes focusing on mine. Frowning, I repeated what I had said. Rick nodded in return though taking in his expression, I wondered whether he'd even heard what I'd said. Unconsciously, I saw his hand reach towards his injured side. I took note of this and knew we had to hurry.

Carl led the way again, Rick and I following. I made sure to remain at the leader's side, keeping an eye on the man. He seemed dead on his feet right now and I feared that he'd drop any moment. Studying him out of the corner of my eye, I let my thoughts take over. I was unsure how long Rick could keep this up. Thinking vaguely to Herschel being shot hours earlier, the man had fallen unconscious pretty quickly. I noted that the farmer, however, was shot in the chest - a vital area of his body. Rick was lucky enough to have only been shot in the shoulder and side, so seemed to have the capability to remain conscious longer than Herschel did. Not to mention the fact that Rick was overall a stronger man, in theory. With this knowledge, I hoped silently that he'd hold strong for a little longer. I studied briefly how Rick held his side and how his hands were already stained with his own blood, but perhaps him holding it was keeping pressure on his wound. Perhaps that too would keep him going for longer. Again, I could only hope.

After walking endlessly down the road, the little hope we held onto diminishing every step, something in the distance caught our attention. Hope slowly restored within me.

"I think it's a car." Carl announced, his pace quickening again.

"Carl." Rick's voice cut in, sternly. I swallowed back the tension again as the boy flinched and slowed his pace once more. We continued on in silence until we neared the object and it became clearer.

Carl was right, it was a car. Fortunately, it seemed in decent condition, merely abandoned at the side of the road. Though we had found hope in the car, so many variables could ruin that. The car could be broken, there might not be any fuel, we might not be able to start it. I remembered all the times with Merle and Michonne when we'd have to attempt to hotwire various cars we found. I had made the mistake not learning this skill, leaving it up to Michonne or Merle to carry out when we had been together. Cursing myself, I realised how stupid that decision was now.

Approaching the car, weapons were taken out. Though thankfully after examination, the vehicle was found to be empty and I couldn't help but sigh in relief. Opening the driver's side door, I hoped to find the keys still in the ignition. A bold hope. Sadly, the car remained keyless.

"Move aside." Rick's voice muttered nearby. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the leader approach and I stepped back to allow him to get in, confused of his motives. His movements were slow and he winced at the action of sitting down. I kept myself from jumping to help, knowing he wouldn't appreciate it right now. Despite being in obvious pain, Rick wasted no time in pausing to breath and I quickly caught on to what the man was trying to do.

"You can hotwire cars?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, impressed. Rick breathed a chuckle, sending me a brief smile. Only brief.

"It's something you pick up as a cop." He replied and I smiled back. Thank God for small miracles. "This may take a while though, you'll have to bear with me."

"Carl and I will keep watch."

Slowly, I approached the youngest of our trio, who had turned away from Rick and I now and was observing the road and forest, keeping a look out no doubt. Reaching his side, I knew he felt my presence but he didn't say anything. Neither did I. For a long moment's time, we both merely stared out around us, making sure to keep a eye out.

Glancing at Carl's blank expression, I wondered whether I should make a point to talk to Carl now about what had happened. His reaction to it all had worried me the most. While Rick and I had both bottled up our feelings to get the task done, Carl didn't have the same obligation as a child. Yet the boy was a blank canvas, no emotion seeping through after he had brought himself into check. I was unsure how to respond to this. When Carol died, Sophia reacted like I expected and while I wasn't overall comfortable dealing with crying children, it was a natural response. Carl's wasn't. Not considering his mother and baby sister had died only mere hours ago.

The tension between him and his father was something I was picking up too, though I wasn't sure whether Rick had noticed, he was probably too weak to realise. I was unsure if the tension was due to any mistrust or distaste between the pair or whether it was merely Carl's coping method in the tragedy that had occurred. It was too early to tell, though I made note to keep an eye on that.

Passing my eyes over Carl again, I wondered how to start a conversation with him. Asking him if he was 'alright'was completely out of the question. Were any of us alright right now? That question wouldn't pass our lips for some time, I guaranteed that.

"Good call." Carl said suddenly, causing me to start a little in surprise. He didn't elaborate and I merely stared at him with a raised eyebrow before his words registered.

"I was just lucky." I shrugged. "And the idea of going near Woodbury was completely out of the question for me. For us." Carl nodded, staring down at the gun in his hand for a long moment. "You did good back there." I quickly continued, sensing that the boy was closing in on himself again. This time, Carl turned to me in confusion. I nodded to his gun. "Shooting that walker. It was a good shot." Carl almost cracked a smile at this. Almost.

"It wasn't my first time shooting one." He reminded me and I nodded, remembering the walker he had shot to save Sophia. He had no doubt killed plenty more when he had been separated with Daryl all that time back too. The memory of him shooting walker-Shane came back then, as did the memory of him shooting the Woodbury boy. I swallowed back the frown, not wanting Carl to know what I was thinking. He had had plenty practice shooting things, it seemed.

The silence lingered for a long time and behind us, the sound of Rick working on the car was all that was between us. I glanced back a few times, to make sure the man was still conscious, my eyes passing over Carl as they returning back to the scenery around us. Finally, the sound of the car starting up was music to my ears and I couldn't help but smile at Rick as the vehicle successfully roared to life. Rick provided a weak smile in return before attempting to close the driver's door. I stopped it before it slammed shut.

"You're not driving." I cried, in astonishment. He stared back at me, his expression consorted with confusion at my actions. I shook my head, scoffing. "Rick, you've been shot twice. You are in no fit state to drive."

"I'm fine." He gritted, making no move to budge. I would have perhaps believed him if he hadn't reached for his side again in pain.

"Get out." I ordered. "I'm driving." Rick opened him mouth to protest, but his son beat him to it.

"Just get out the God damn car!" Carl bellowed, startling Rick and I. Carl glared at his father. "Just listen to Ruby!" The tension mounted higher as Rick stared in horror at his son, which Carl replied with an equally harsh expression of his own. I stepped back, not wanting to make a sound. Perhaps I was right with my theory of Carl's distaste against his father?

Rick shifted awkwardly before he attempted to haul himself out the car, hissing in pain as he did. I quickly jumped to help, aiding the man to his feet again, before he shrugged off my help and made his way to passenger door without another word. Carl scoffing caught my attention and I turned to the boy to see him staring after his father with an annoyed expression. When he caught my eye, Carl nodded once before getting into the back of the car. I stood, confused at what had just happened, before I pulled myself into the driver's seat in a slight daze. The tension I had just stepped into was overwhelming.

It took a few attempts to get the car out of its place at the side of the road, but I soon got it out and was thankful when the wheels hit the snow covered tarmac. We drove in silence, continuing in the direction we were already heading, keeping our wits about us. At first, I trained my eyes solely on the road ahead, not wanting to glance at either father or son, afraid at what I'd find in either expression. Worrying over Rick's health got the better of my fear though and I found myself glancing at the man beside me, making sure he was still awake and breathing.

Rick was staring straight out the window every time I looked his way, his arm stretched protectively over his body, holding his injured side. As we drove, I wondered how on earth we were going to treat him as none of us possessed any sort of medical training. I racked my memories, trying to pick at any knowledge that could help us when the time came to treating him. Which hopefully would be soon.

"How much fuel have we got left?" Rick's voice asked, evenly. I glanced down at the gas meter on the dash board, swallowing hard.

"Under a quarter of a tank." I replied. Hopefully that would be enough. Rick hummed his acknowledgement before falling silent once more.

I kept my eye on the meter, willing the dial to remain steady and for the car to keep on chugging forward. So far, nothing of our scenery looked any different. One road, trees on either side. Not even a walker in sight. After taking another check on Rick, I noted that his face had paled even more than it already was and his breathing laboured. Not good. Our time was running out and I couldn't help but press harder on the accelerator pedal, willing the car faster.

I couldn't help but breath a sigh of relief when the sight of buildings came into view. The car shifted as Carl leaned between the two front seats to take better look himself. Rick's reaction was unresponsive, though his heavy breathing signalled to me that he was still alive. Just a little more, I urged. Getting closer, the buildings expanded into what seemed to be a larger town. I dropped the speed at our approach, not knowing what we'd find here.

"Don't go for the town centre." Carl quickly offered. "There will be more walkers there and if there's other people, then surely that would be where they'd head too? To get supplies?" Good logic, Kid. I nodded at Carl's advice and changed the car's course away from the town centre and led it down the outskirts.

Finally, I turned the car down a long abandoned road, houses on either side. It looked similar to the one I was walking down before I came across Morgan and Duane all that time back, though I knew we were too far out for it to be the same one. The houses were modest, homely looking almost. Their structures were not too grand and looked relatively stable to withhold under a walker attack. Some had boarded up windows, but the doors to those were ripped clean off their hinges, signalling their emptiness and urged my opinion away from them.

After studying a few of the houses, I finally pulled the car to a halt in front of a house that looked half boarded up, but who had a door still intact too. Cutting the engine off, we stared up at the house in silence. The street we were on was completely abandoned, thankfully not a walker to be seen too, though that couldn't be said for certain for inside the houses too.

"Alright, we better check it out first before taking lodge." I announced with a sigh. Turning to Rick, I noticed the man attempted to open the passenger door. "You stay here."

"I'm coming too." He protested, weakly. I shook my head.

"You'll be more of a hindrance than help." I muttered, hoping he didn't take offence.

"You can't go in alone." Rick breathed, eyeing me under weak lids.

"She won't be alone." A voice spoke from the back.

"You're staying here." Rick argued, glancing back to his son. His tone was firm, but his son wasn't so convinced. Carl snorted.

"You can't stop me." He grumbled. "I'm going with Ruby. She'll need my help and I can look after myself."

I glanced between the pair, knowing that Rick was adamant to let his son go after what had happened to his wife and daughter. Though I knew how important it was for Carl to come and help, to prove himself. He may have only seemed like a child, but this world was moulding Carl into an adult long before his time. And we could do nothing to stop this. This world was vicious and destroyed the innocence in us all. I knew that Carl's innocence was already diminishing, even without the actions of today. Attempting to mother him hadn't really been fruitful in the past. For some reason, I knew that Carl needed this.

"Carl-"

"Rick, I'll take care of him." I quickly spoke up, meeting Rick's gaze. "I promise." The man studied me for a long moment, his expression pained, before he slowly nodded.

"What am I supposed to do?" He asked, his breath hitching.

"Stay in the car, we'll come get you when the house is clear." I replied. Glancing back to Carl, I nodded to the bag he attempted to pull over his shoulders - our only collection of supplies, it seemed. "Leave that, you won't need it. Just bring your weapons." The boy nodded, putting the bag back on the back seat. "C'mon, we'll make this quick."

After climbing out the car, I approached the house slowly, allowing Carl to catch up. I quickly took the safety off my gun - Lori's gun - checking the amount of ammo I had left in it, before making sure I had my knife on me. Glancing at I saw him fumble with his gun, apparently itching to go.

"Safety off?" I checked, the boy nodded. "You got enough bullets left?" He nodded again. "And you're knife?"

"I don't have one." Carl replied. At this, I raised an eyebrow.

"You don't?" I muttered, he shook his head.

"This is all I've got." He told me, raising his gun a little. "I've never killed a walker with a knife." I was astonished at this confession.

"Really?"

"I've only ever used a gun." At this development, I frowned.

Now that Carl would be stepping up to be an admiral defence for the three of us, I realised that I'd have to change Carl's attack strategies. He couldn't go around shooting off rounds when they were so sparse. Not to mention the fact that most of time, we weren't going to need the sound of gun fire, drawing the attention of walkers around. Sighing, I nodded, taking note for later.

We made our way up the steps onto the porch of the house. The door was open slightly and I took the lead, taking out my knife. The door creaked when I opened it and I hissed, shaking my head in frustration. After pausing to listen for movement, I led the way inside, Carl at my heels. Glancing at the boy as we stood in the hallway of the house, I made a huge decision which I hoped wouldn't turn around and bite me later.

"I'm gonna check down here," I breathed, keeping my volumes down. "I want you to check upstairs." Carl's eyes widened at the fact I'd just willingly given him a responsible task. He nodded furiously. "Be careful. Try not to make too much noise. Holler if you need me." Carl nodded once more before making his way over to the stairs. I waited until the boy had reached the top safely and rounded the corner, before I ventured into the room leading to the right of the hall way.

The first room looked to be a living room and the windows in here were boarded up. I crept along the floor boards of this room, through to the arch way in the back of it that led into the kitchen. I saw another door leading out into the back yard, which I quickly ventured over to. It was locked when I reached it, but I made note try and secure it better when we'd cleared the house out. I paused to check a few of the cupboards, hoping boldly for some food. The place looked already a little disrupted and the idea of someone already being here before us was confirmed by the emptiness of the kitchen cupboards.

After finding a scarce amount of food we could actually eat - mostly cans - and placing them on the kitchen table for later, a gun shot echoed out, startling me. Carl. Moving as fast as I could, I raced back through the living room and bounded up the stairs. The horrors of finding the boy dead or worse sprung instantly to mind. Please God no, not again. My rushed steps were brought to a halt though when I found the boy stood on the landing, over the body of a dead walker. He stared at me, eyes wide before he jumped at the sound of something banging against the door he was leaning back against.

"You alright?" I quickly asked. Carl nodded.

"There's another one in here." He told me, gesturing to the room he kept secure. "Everywhere else is clear." Nodding, I stepped over the body and joined Carl, pressing my weight against the door. The thumping was heavy and I flinched at the snarling and hissing that could be heard within.

"Alright, this is what I want you to do." I muttered. "I want you to go stand down the corridor, in view of the door. I'm going to open it and the walker is going to see you. But I do not want you to shoot it. Do you understand?"

"Why can't I shoot it?" He asked, frowning. "How will we kill it?" I raised my knife in reply. At this, it dawned on him and Carl nodded. Without another word, he moved away from the door and obliged to what I'd said. He met my gaze and I saw him take a deep breath.

"Ready?" I asked. Carl nodded and after a moment's hesitation, I opened the door, making sure I was out of sight.

It worked as expected. The walker spotted Carl and staggered towards him, reaching forward, snarling and spitting. Quickly, I came up behind the walker, raising my knife. Before the thing could get too close to Carl, I had shoved it hard against the wall and had plunged my knife into its skull, not even flinching at the disgusting sound the incision made. Grunting, I pulled out my knife and the walker dropped to the floor, unmoving. I eyed the pair of walkers evenly before turning to Carl.

"You're gonna have to start learning how to kill a walker other than using a gun." I told him, raising my knife and pointing it at him. "Bullets are too loud and they are less to come by now. You need an alternative weapon." Carl nodded slowly and I sighed. "C'mon, lets go get your dad." Walking away, I didn't miss the way Carl's nose upturned at the mention of his father.

Leaving the house, I glanced up and down the street to make sure no walkers had come to investigate Carl's gunshot, before venturing out to the car again. Thankfully, the road remained abandoned though I didn't allow myself to feel relief at this. Approaching the car, I allowed Carl to get the bag from the back, while I made my way around to the passenger seat to help Rick. Opening the door though, I found, in horror, that Rick wasn't awake anymore.

"Rick?" I shook the man, gently, hoping he was just resting his eyes. No response. I checked for a pulse and thankfully found one, though it was weak. He had fallen unconscious in our absence, so it seemed time was of the essence now. I looped his arm over my shoulder and dragged his body out of the car. I hissed as his entire weight fell against me - he was a lot heavier than I had expected. As quickly as I could, I heaved his body around the car and toward the house.

"Carl!" I cried. "Help me with him." Quickly, the boy was at my side and had taken his father's other side. Together we led him into the house and I gestured into the living room. We certainly wouldn't make it up the stairs and the living room had quickly been decided as our base in that moment. "Lower him to the floor. Gently."

"Should we not put him on the couch?" Carl asked.

"We need to tend to his wounds, it'll be easier on the floor." I quickly replied and together we lay Rick on the wooden floor. "Carl, check the bag and look for any medical supplies." He nodded frantically and began his rummage. As he did, I quickly removed Rick's shirt to examine the extent of his wounds. After discarding the bloodied item completely in a messy heap in the corner, I stared down at his injuries.

The bullet wounds, thankfully, didn't seem too deep. I racked my brain, remembering Herschel being shot earlier and recalling his instructions to Maggie. Remove the bullet and any remains. Bind the wounds. After remembering being shot myself, I recalled having to redress the wound to stop infection. These little snips of advice, provided me with a little comfort in my ability to help Rick. At least I had a basic idea. First off, I needed to remove the bullets.

"You found anything, Carl?" I asked, trying to keep pressure of the wound in Rick's side. I received no response. "Carl?" Looking up, I froze.

Carl remained still, staring down at the object in his hands. Baby formula. I saw his hands shake, though I couldn't see his face as his hat obscured it from view again. I swallowed hard.

"Carl?" I tried again, gently. The boy raised his gaze, his eyes tear-glazed. "I know it's hard but your dad needs you right now, Carl. I need you." Slowly, he nodded, putting the formula aside. "I need something to take the bullets out with." Carl continued searching before pulling out a small medical kit. Opening it, he poured out its contents. I repressed a sigh at the bare minimum inside. Bandages, pain killers, nothing that could help me remove the bullet.

"I'll go see if there's anything in the kitchen." He muttered, getting to his feet and rushing out. I heard the sounds of clattering and banging before Carl returned, his arms full. He dropped a pile of kitchen cutlery on the floor beside his father and I eyed it carefully. Swallowing hard at our incapacity, I reached forward and gingerly picked up a small, butter knife. "Shouldn't we sterilise it? That's what Herschel would do."

"We've not got the time." I breathed, turning my attention to the wound. Feeling sick all of a sudden, I took a deep breath, before entering the wound with the knife.

Rick's body shuddered as I did and he made a pain consorted noise. Carl quickly jumped forward to try and settle his father as much as he could as I continued searching for the bullet. Restricting my mind, I focused my attention on Rick, trying to ignore my inadequacy for this job. I was the best we had right now. After what seemed like eternity, I finally got the bullet and pulled it out with the knife in my hand. Taking the object between my newly blood-stained fingers, I examined it to make sure it was whole. Finding it was, I placed it on the floor beside Rick's body.

"You need to bind that for me, Carl." I quickly instructed, moving my attention now to Rick's shoulder. "Keep applying pressure, I'll help you when I've got this one out too." The boy worked quietly, taking a knife to the thin bed sheets that he found folded up inside the bag we had, cutting them to a smaller size.

I repeated the same procedure with Rick's shoulder, ignoring the sounds and the feelings of disgust I felt having to plunge into the wound of my friend. This one was much tougher than the previous and I quickly required the aid of another knife to get to the next bullet. Taking it between my fingers when I could reach it, I examined it again before sighing with relief as it seemed in tact. Carl was currently holding pressure down on the wound in his father's side, and I quickly jumped to take over. Wordlessly, the boy manoeuvred around to Rick's shoulder and without any instruction, he applied pressure on that wound now. I took the sheets that Carl had ripped into makeshift bandages and got to work wrapping it around Rick's wound in his side.

"We need to lift him, so I can wrapped this around him." I instructed the boy. Gently, we raised Rick and Carl held his weight as I wrapped the bandage around his middle. Blood seeped through but I kept on wrapping it around until the sheets remained white. "Lets bind the next one." Together, we wrapped up the shoulder wound, in the same fashion as before.

"Should we lift him onto the couch now?" Carl asked, once we had bind the wound. After we had, we were unsure what to do now. My 'medical knowledge' only stretched this far. I nodded and together we lifted him onto the long couch. Carl got to work keeping his father's head elevated over one of the cushions and making sure he seemed overall comfortable. Once that had been done, we stood still, unsure what to do yet again.

"I don't know what else to do." I admitted, staring down at my blood stained hands. My throat began to restrict and all of a sudden, I just felt like curling up into a ball and crying till I could cry no more.

"When I was shot, I didn't wake up for ages." Carl told me, sighing. "Shane told me that the bullet had splintered into pieces so it took longer for me to heal." He kicked the bullets that had been in his father before glancing up at me. "After they were removed, I had to rest to get my energy up again." I nodded.

"So I guess your dad just needs to rest too now." I offered, Carl shrugged. A frown suddenly fell on his face.

"You don't suppose he needs blood, do you?" He asked. "When I got shot, he had to give me some because I'd lost so much." My eyes were drawn to the bloodied shirt that I'd discarded to the corner of the room. There was a lot of blood.

"Even if he did, I wouldn't know how to do it. And even if I did know, we don't have the equipment." I replied. Carl nodded, eyeing the unconscious form of his father.

Without a word, he lifted out the remaining sheet that he didn't rip apart and threw it over his father, tucking it around him until his bottom half was covered. Gently, he raised it over Rick's wounded chest, but not so much that he was cocooned and restricted. I couldn't help but smile at Carl's gentleness - this certainly was a contrast to the boy's cold nature towards his father earlier. I allowed my smile to fall though when Carl turned back to face me.

"Hopefully he just needs to rest."

It was decided pretty quickly that Rick wasn't in need of blood - we were in denial that it was an option - and that he only needed to rest to build up his strength and recover from his wounds. Carl informed me some more about his ordeal of being shot and his recovery, hoping to enlighten me some more of how Rick's recovery would take place. While Carl's injury had taken complications, he had only been shot once, compared to his father being shot twice. We were unsure how this would effect recovery rate, but Carl informed me how it had been weeks until he had really been able to move around, so we banked on the idea of holding up here for quite some time.

With this idea in mind, I realised that the defences of the home needed to be tightened. First thing, we removed the bodies from the landing upstairs. Despite deciding that we would take up living downstairs, the idea of them upstairs was unnerving. So, we took the bodies out one at a time and deposited them in the yard across the street. I debated on burning them, but realised that we had no way to do so, so the bodies remained uncharred. Red stained white as we dumped the bodies in the snow. The next thing to do was boarding up the rest of the windows and tightening up the exits.

"We need some tools and some wood." I muttered to Carl, after checking in quickly with Rick to make sure he was still breathing.

"Perhaps there's a garage?" Carl offered, leading the way around the side of the house.

We didn't find a garage, but a small run down shed. Inside, we were lucky enough to find some necessary tools for the task at hand. We dumped them on the floor of the hallway before turning our attention to finding wood to board up the windows with. Lost in my thoughts, my eyes passed over the kitchen table that could be seen through the archway that led into the kitchen.

"We could use the furniture." I suggested. "It's not like we really need it."

We broke up the kitchen table, various cupboards and wardrobes that we found upstairs, some small tables that held various ornaments and trinkets on. After breaking down a large display cabinet that we found in the main bedroom upstairs, I declared that we should have enough to start boarding windows up.

Working together, Carl would hold up the wood while I hammered it in with the hammer we had found and nails. Once doing one window, we would pause to check the street outside, hoping that the noise we were making hadn't gathered any attention. A few walkers lingered but I would quickly take them out - we couldn't afford for Carl to be shooting them, making more noise - then we'd return back inside to continue. Checks were continuously made on Rick, to check he was still breathing. He still remained unconscious but I didn't let this bother me. He was hardly going to recover that quickly after being shot twice. We had to be patient with his recovery.

Once all the windows downstairs were secure, our attention was moved to the two doors. At first, I considered leaving them without being boarded up and simply relying on merely locking them. Though after consideration, we quickly decided to just board them both up. Carl suggested that if we ever wanted to leave the house for anything, we could just take the boards down and redo them again - we had plenty wood left to do so. Or we could get out through one of the upstairs windows. One of the front bedrooms windows opened up to allow access onto the veranda of the porch so we were able to jump down from there and leverage ourselves back up again if we wanted to return.

The skies began to darken when we'd finally finished securing the place and we both settled in the living room, after gathering sheets we had found upstairs and bringing in the food that I had found. Rick's form remained still on the couch, while Carl and I sat with our backs against the wall, facing him. We were both exhausted - it had been a long day, that was for sure. With the blankets and sheets that we had found, we had wrapped ourselves up tightly, attempting to keep warm from the bitter air.

"We should get some rest." I breathed finally. The room was quite dark now, near to complete blackness, though my eyes adjusted slowly. The moonlight crept through some gaps in our boarding and I was able to watch Rick's chest rise and shudder as he breathed. "Kinda afraid to shut my eyes though." I admitted, allowing myself to chuckle bitterly.

"Incase you re-live it?" Carl asked. I hesitated before answering.

"Something like that." I muttered. There was a brief moment's silence. "Do you want anything to eat?"

"Not really."

We didn't speak again for the remainder of the night. I couldn't bring myself to say anything and soon found myself drifting off to sleep, hoping Carl had the capability too.

Darkness filled my dreams. At first, I felt nothing. Heard nothing, saw nothing. But then, a slow flicker of something hit me. A voice muttering, far too quick to pick anything coherent from. I tried to run towards the sound, hoping to find someone, anyone in this vast, dark wasteland. I was stopped in my tracks though when I was suddenly hit with an wall of sounds - gunshots, screams, gleamed and I stepped into that empty prison yard once more. At first, I was alone, but the noises still could be heard. So loud.

A familiar scream caught my attention and I turned on the spot, screaming her name - Sophia. Suddenly, she stood before me, dripping in blood. When she opened her mouth, more blood seeped out.

"Why couldn't you save me?" She asked and I found myself unresponsive. Then she was gone.

More screams, more gunfire, more death. Then suddenly, a baby crying could be heard. Judith. I ran frantically, trying to find her - she was still alive, she was still crying! - though stumbled across a familiar, horrifying sight.

Lori's body lay face down in the snow, blood staining the back of her shirt like I remembered. Stumbling forward, I still heard the sound of Judith crying. Perhaps Judith had survived? I slowly turned Lori over, finding glazed, unseeing eyes looking back at me. Judith was nowhere to be seen. I searched around, frantically trying to find her. I had to find her! Though suddenly, a deep pain-filled cry caught my attention and I swung around to see Daryl stood a few feet away. Blood was pouring from his neck - had he been shot?! - and he stumbled towards me, reaching for me. Help, he mouthed to me. Hitching a sob, I moved forward though I was stopped instantly in my tracks again.

The Governor appeared out of nowhere, katana in hand. He sliced through the hunter's neck effortlessly and Daryl's body lingered only a moment before he fell to the ground, his blood staining the snow.

"Why couldn't you save them?" The Governor challenged, a smirk gracing his face. He stepped closer and Judith's cries echoed louder. I couldn't move as he stepped even closer, entering my space and sending a familiar feeling of sickness through me again. Not this, anything but this. "Why couldn't you save them?" His touch lingered, I couldn't move, Judith's cries got louder.

Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop-

"Ruby, stop!" Suddenly, my eyes shot open and instantly focused on Carl's form. His hands gripped my shoulder as he shook me hard. "Ruby?"

"I'm fine." I breathed, swallowing the lump forming in my throat. Carl removed his hands and sat back. Glancing around the room, I recognised the living room of the house we had taken rest in the night before. It was daytime now, it seemed. Rick's form remained in the same position we had left him in, his chest rising and falling with a shudder. My head pounded and I tried to push away the chaos of noise that filled my head.

"Nightmare?" Carl asked, catching my attention. I nodded, not meeting his gaze. Instead I saw an opened can nearby.

"You ate?"

"Yeah, I couldn't really sleep so I thought I might aswell." He replied. I turned to him then, taking in the dark circles under his eyes. "You started muttering in your sleep, twitching. I didn't think you'd want to stay in there for too long." I nodded my thanks, my eyes falling on the pile of food that had been arranged differently than the night before. "I took stock of what we had." Carl held out a piece of paper towards me and I took it hesitantly.

"Where'd you find the paper and pen?" I asked, taking in Carl's scribbled handwriting before me.

"In a draw upstairs." He informed me. "Found this too." A box of chalk was pushed between us and I chuckled a little. "There were some painkillers in the bathroom but nothing much." He had arranged all we had on us in a pile and I studied it for a long moment. I noted that the baby formula was nowhere to be seen.

"Well, while your dad recovers, we can get to work gathering up some more supplies." I muttered, eyeing how little we actually had now. As I held the piece of paper in my hands, I noted they were shaking greatly. Swallowing hard, I still couldn't shake off the feelings of the nightmare I had had to just endure and I was thankful the boy beside me said nothing more of it. Wordlessly, Carl reached toward the open can and handed it to me, followed by a fork. "Thanks." I half smiled at the boy, though he missed it. Or ignored it.

As I chewed the food thoughtfully, I, for the first time, considered those who could still be out there. Maggie, Glenn, Sophia, Herschel, Sasha, Michonne, Merle, Daryl.

I cringed a little as I thought about the hunter, thinking about the last time I'd seen him, before the final battle hit. There was so much left unspoken between us, so much more I could have said. And yet I hadn't had the guts to say anything and now Daryl could be gone. I had survived the attack, barely perhaps but I'd done it. A flicker of hope enlightened within me at the idea of perhaps he had survived too. Maybe the others had gotten out as well. Surely we couldn't be the only ones left standing?

After eating the remainder of what Carl had left in the can, checking Rick over briefly, I stared through one of the cracks between the boards, eyeing the street. We would have to search the other houses for more supplies, that much was certain. After considering it, I decided that if we would do this, we would do this in an organised manner. After yesterday, I didn't want to leave anything down to chance now.

"Right, lets map out the street." I sighed. "I want you to go upstairs, get onto the veranda and tell me how many houses are on either side of this street. Just this street. Be careful up there, it'll be slippery." Carl nodded and rushed off to do as instructed. Sighing, I eyed the stuff Carl had found and carefully picked up the box of chalk.

A large, ugly canvas of some obscure scenery took up most of the back wall. Grimacing at the sight of it, I lifted it away from the wall, none-too-carefully, and discarded it into the pile of wood we had kept by the front door. Eyeing the colour of the wall - a light beige - I picked out one of the black sticks of chalk. Carl emerged shortly after.

"Fifteen houses on both side." Carl informed me. I nodded and without a word got to work.

I never was very good at art, but I quickly sketched a basic representation of the street we were on - two long, straight, parallel lines for the road. Fifteen squares on either side made up the houses. Nothing too complicated.

"We're the fifth house in on the right hand side." Carl offered, coming to my side and pointing to the instructed square or 'house'. Taking out a red chalk I coloured it in. I went to write the word 'home' above the coloured in house, but stopped myself. This wasn't home. Swallowing hard, I shook the bitter thoughts away and dropped the chalk back into the box Carl had found it in.

"We can be a bit more organised now." I muttered. "When we've searched a house, we'll cross it out." Carl disappeared from my side before returning to it, a handful of pieces of paper with him.

"I organised our supplies too." He told me, handing me one piece of paper. "That has all our food on." He handed me another. "That's got our ammo supply." Another. "What weapons we have." And another. "Medical." Another. "That's just got other things we have too. I didn't know what category they could go into. It's stuff like; torches, can opener, radios-"

"Wait, radios?" I frowned, forgetting the item completely. Carl nodded before retrieving the items. He held out two radios to me - mine and Rick's. I took one in hand, trying to rack who else had been given a radio. Sasha and Andrea.

"I've already tried." Carl said, apparently sensing what I was thinking. "I don't think it has that big of a range. They were only prison radios, weren't they? They didn't need to have the same range as a cop radio would." I saw his sense and nodded numbly, before something caught my eye.

"We have three?" I asked, frowning at the larger looking, unfamiliar radio. Carl shrugged.

"It was in the bag we have." He informed me before nodding to his father. "I think he's been carrying it around since Atlanta." I raised an eyebrow at this piece of information. Rick had been carrying the thing around since Atlanta? "I tried it yesterday but I think it's broken; all I got was static. It's one of his old police radios, I think. Not sure why he's kept it for so long though." I nodded before turning my attention back down to the two working radios we had.

"Well, these can come in pretty good use, I think." I said. "Someone is going to need to stay here and watch over your father. So, while I'm out getting supplies, you can keep in contact with me with these-"

"Woah, what do you mean when you're out getting supplies?" Carl interrupted, a frown on his face. "We can take it in turns going out and staying." I chewed my lip.

"Carl, I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why?" He challenged. "I can look after myself! You gave me the chance to yesterday and I didn't mess up! Why is this any different?"

"This is a bigger risk, Carl." I reminded him. "I won't be able to come help you so quickly like I did yesterday, if you get into trouble."

"But you can't really expect me to let you do this alone? You can't expect me to let you just take this risk! I'm not going to just sit here and wait while you'll be out there all the time. I want to help."

"Carl-"

"Ruby, please! I'm not just some kid anymore. I can protect myself. Please just give me the chance! If I mess up then I'll stop-"

"If you mess up, you die." I couldn't help myself and Carl stopped short. We merely stared each down for a long moment's time, considering each other. My eyes trailed over to Rick's form. If he was awake, he'd banish the idea of Carl going out alone. But he wasn't awake to argue this. Right now, it was just Carl and I and I had to make the choice without help. Part of me wanted to cut Carl straight down again, the memories of yesterday still raw, but observing the boy in front of me and taking in his argument, I hesitated. He was right; I couldn't do this alone. I thought of Lori, knowing she'd hate the idea too. But Lori wasn't here anymore to stop this. Biting back the bitter tears, I nodded slowly. "We'll take it in turns," Carl grinned - for the first time since the events of yesterday, I noted. "But. I need you to learn how to use something other than your gun to kill walkers before I allow that."

Carl's weapon of choice was a knife that we found in the kitchen. It wasn't as big as the knife I had, but it was a good size for Carl. He stood with it for some time, just feeling its weight in his hands, almost like he would with a gun. I double checked Rick, before gathering up my own knife and gun and led the way upstairs and into the front bedroom. Sitting on the veranda of the porch, we stared out down the street, the snow off the roof we sat on nipping us the longer we remained still.

"So," Carl began slowly. "What's the plan?" I glanced awkwardly at the boy. His careless attitude still hadn't sunk in with me. He didn't act like a boy whose mother and sister had been killed barely a day ago. I exhaled through my nose before eyeing the couple of walkers that staggered down our street. They hadn't noticed us watching them from above, which worked in our favour. I could use them in the 'lesson'.

"C'mon. Try not to make too much noise."

Carefully, we climbed down and I urged Carl to keep low as we approached where we'd left the car parked the day before. Eyeing the walker closer to us, I judged the situation before turning to Carl.

"I'm going to kill this one here." I began, nodding to the walker in question. "I want you to watch what I do. Alright?" Carl nodded furiously. He appeared eager to learn and this unnerved me slightly. "Stay here."

I manoeuvred around the car and followed the walker's movements. It staggered nearby to where I was crouched and I worked quickly. Not allowing it to see me, I grabbed hold its hair and used it to force its head back onto my knife. It sliced through as effortlessly as it normally would - crunching and squelching through the skull and brain. It fell to the ground, still, littering the snow with sprays of blood. I eyed the other walker, glad to see it hadn't noticed or heard anything, before returning back to Carl's side.

"Same principle as always. Aim for the head." I began. "Stabbing one of these anywhere else won't help in slowing them down either - it won't contract the same force as a bullet would. Put all your force into the swing. You have one go - make it count, always. You don't want to have to stab them twice, that's when things could get complicated." Carl nodded, heeding to my every word.

"I'm guessing that I'm having a go at this one?" He asked, eyeing the walker down the street.

"I'll be right behind you and I'll intervene if things go wrong." I assured the boy. "Don't worry if you don't get it right first time, we can keep practising. I've got your back, alright?" Carl nodded slowly, taking deep breaths and eyeing the knife in his hands. "C'mon, lets get this done."

We continued with the stealth until we got close enough to the walker. At the right distance, I nodded once at the walker before stepping back, allowing Carl to take the lead. My hand went straight to my gun, getting it out ready to use if necessary. The boy hesitated before making his move. He was a lot clumsier with the knife than he was with a gun. I could see him visibly shaking as he approached the walker and made a point in directing my gun at the walker's head, ready. As he got nearer, I noted that his height in comparison to the walker would be a problem - his access to its head was hindered. I cursed under my breath for not realising this earlier, but it was too late to alert Carl now and merely waited to take a shot.

The walker spotted Carl earlier than the boy probably would have liked, but the cold season meant that its movements were slowed so this worked in Carl's favour. He stopped in one place, seemingly frozen in fear, and I debated in taking the shot then. I hesitated though, waiting - giving Carl the chance. His next moves surprised me. In a flash, Carl had rushed forward and sent a sharp kick to the walker's skin. Due to its brittle bones - thanks to either the cold weather or its decaying body - the leg snapped and the walker was brought down to its knees. At this more accessible height, Carl had better view of its head. In his clumsiness, Carl ended up impaling the knife into the walker's neck rather than its skull so he was forced to pull out his weapon and try again. When he finally aimed for the head, he had to force it twice before the walker's movements ceased.

I slowly lowered my gun, observing as Carl had to use both hands, pressing his foot on the walker's back, to pull the knife out of the skull. He panted, apparently exhausted from the kill. Despite all this, I couldn't help but smile respectfully when the boy looked up.

"Nice." I nodded, approved. "I'm impressed." Carl allowed a grin pass onto his face before wiping the knife on his trouser leg, cleaning it of blood.

"I think I need a little more practise." He admitted and I shrugged in response, patting his back as he returned to my side.

Carl wanted to try and find more walkers to practise on, but I dismissed this idea. It had to be the first time anyone had wanted to come across a walker. Instead, we returned back to the house, heaving ourselves back onto the porch roof again to climb in through the window. I told Carl to go check Rick over while I searched in the rooms upstairs for something. The boy did so and I headed into one of the back bedrooms which Carl told me he'd found the chalk in. It was once a little girl's room - that much was obvious. I felt pain inflict me at the thought of Sophia, but reminded myself that she was safe. Maggie and Glenn would take care of her. An object in the corner of the prettily pink room caught my eye and I smiled bitterly.

"Right," I began, placing the dolls house down in front of Carl. It wasn't a basic doll's house either - this family obviously had a decent amount of money to be able to afford such a grand toy for their daughter. Carl raised his eyebrow at the item. "You're searching a house for supplies, tell me what you do." I scanned my eyes over Rick as Carl contemplated this, noting that the man looked exactly the same as before.

"Well, I'd start by going through the front door." He began, picking up one of the small figurines and making a point of standing them before the door into the dolls house.

"What if it's locked?" I challenged, taking a seat beside him.

"Then I'll try the back door." Carl shrugged.

"Wrong." I shook my head. Carl frowned. "If it's locked then what does that mean?" He shrugged again, still frowning. "That means that there may be someone inside already. We both know how dangerous the living can be. If you come across a locked house, you report it into me. I'll decide what we do about it." Carl nodded, realisation dawning on him. "But say the door isn't locked. What do you do then?"

"I check downstairs." He continued. I raised an eyebrow for him to elaborate. "Well, assuming the other houses on this street are the same as this one, I'll go for the living room first."

"Before all that, you stop here for a moment," I pointed to the hallway of the doll's house. "And listen for any noises. Walkers aren't smart enough to not make a sound. It'll give you a better knowledge of what you're going into." Carl nodded. "So, you're in the living room."

"Then I'll check the kitchen after that."

"And what will you do in there?"

"Check for supplies?" I shook my head.

"Do not search for supplies until you know the place is clear, you understand?" I replied. "You don't want to get caught from behind. Search everywhere, then start your searching. It'll be easier to take down a walker too when your bag isn't loaded up with supplies you've just found in the kitchen." Carl nodded furiously again, taking this in. "What you do in the kitchen is check the back door - if they have one of course. Check if it's locked, but make sure you keep it shut. You don't want any wandering walkers getting in, but you want to see if you've got another exit if you've got to get out." I paused. "Then what do you do?"

"Go upstairs?" I nodded in confirmation. "Maybe stop when I reach the top of the stairs to listen for any sounds of movement?" I smiled a little - he was learning. "Check all the rooms. When it's clear, I can start getting supplies."

"Where do you start looking first? Upstairs or downstairs?" He paused.

"Upstairs, if I'm assuming that most supplies I get will be food from the kitchen and they will just weigh down my bag." I nodded, smiling fully.

"These are just trivial things I wanted you to know." I explained, gesturing to the doll house before us. "I know it seems silly, but I want to make sure you're ready before I send you out alone." Carl nodded, his expression understanding.

"I get it." He replied, eyeing the house. "Thanks." I patted his shoulder before picking up the nearest can of food, opening it wordlessly and placing it between us both. Without a word, I offered Carl a fork and together we ate silently.

When I woke up the next morning, startling myself out of the nightmares this time, rather than with the help of Carl, I found that the boy had pinned each of the lists he had made next to the chalk map of the street. Organisation was the key, I urged to myself. More chalk markings however caught my eye. Getting to my feet, I walked over to the blank wall beside the map, taking in the two black chalk lines that Carl had obviously drawn. Glancing around the room, I noticed that Carl wasn't there, though the sound of movement from the kitchen diminished any worry of the boy's whereabouts.

When Carl emerged from the kitchen, I pointed to the new chalk lines.

"What are these for?" I asked.

"How many days we've been here." He replied, evenly. Two days then. Two days since we lost so many. Two days since the world we had known collapsed beneath our feet. I nodded once, taking the offered can of food without another word.

When six chalk lines marked the wall beside our makeshift map, I decided that we should probably start our supply hunt. We had spent the last few days attempting to train Carl up with various weapons. First the knife, then we upgraded to a hammer and various other tools we had found in the run-down shed. We used passing walkers as targets and sometimes we trained on 'fake' walkers that we made from pillow cases stuffed with bedding when the real things were scarce to come by.

We became fixed to a routine, an idea that sickened and comforted me at the same time. I would usually wake up from a nightmare - with either Carl's help or on my own accord - and find that Carl had been awake long before me. We'd spend a long period of the morning just checking over all the security of the house, making sure the windows and exits were all boarded up. Then we'd continue practising - Carl's demands - with knives and other weapons. I was unsure of the boy's motives on all the training but I wasn't sure I liked the cold look behind his eyes on each kill. Throughout the day we would check on Rick and how he was fairing. He continued to remain unconscious and I had got into the habit now of redressing his wounds to stop infection. I was unsure if our methods were correct, but it was all we had to work on.

Once, Rick woke but seemed too delirious to know exactly what was going on. So instead, I took the opportunity to quickly provide the man with water and some food and he allowed me in his weak sense. He never spoke a word and there was a haunted look in his eye. When I settled him back down after being satisfied with the substances I'd given him, the man drifted back off again, muttering words under his breath. I couldn't quite catch what he was saying but when I heard the word 'Lori', I was glad Carl wasn't nearby to hear it.

Despite being in each other's company for long hours, I realised quickly that Carl and I barely talked. We talked, that was for sure, about walkers and supplies. But we never talked. Not once had that fateful day ever been brought up and Carl's cold nature had sustained. It worried me, to say the least. I knew it would no good for the boy to bottle everything up, it would damage him in the long run. I decided pretty quick that while I didn't want to, I needed to try bring the subject around between us. For both our sakes.

I allowed that worry to be pushed aside for a moment though as the subject of a supply mission was brought up. Eyeing the chalk map, I decided to make the first run simple. The house next off small - work our way up. Of course, Carl volunteered himself for the first run. Finding no real excuse to say no, I allowed him to do it.

"You'll be taking this house." I pointed to the designated square on the wall. "Right side, house number four. Got it?" Carl nodded in confirmation. "Good, now lets check your weapons." Organisation was the key, I kept reminding myself.

Together, we checked the ammo he had left in his gun - I noted vaguely that we were in real need of some more - before he tucked it back away into his holster. Carl spent a brief moment cleaning his knife, making sure the blade was shiny and gleaming before nodding his approval. Finally, Carl slung the empty bag over his shoulders, ready to fill with supplies.

"Here's your radio." I handed him the object. "You call in if you need me, I'll be there as fast as I can. You call me, I won't call you incase I err-" I coughed, awkwardly. "In case it's a bad time." Carl grimaced, nodding. "You get in, you get out. Don't go wondering off, you're only doing one house today."

I helped him down off the roof of the porch, telling him again to call me down the radio if he needed help getting back up. After watching him wade his way through the snow into the next door's front yard, he turned back to me, waving a hand in my direction. He didn't want an audience apparently. Sighing, I climbed back in through the window and trundled back down the stairs.

I half expected to find Rick awake when I entered the living space again, ready to scold me for the careless attitude I had apparently adopted with his son. Observing Rick's still form thoughtfully, I groaned to myself, throwing my head in my hands. I would make an awful parent, I established quickly. I imagined the horror-stricken expression of Rick's face if I had to tell him that his son was killed by walkers after I allowed him to go off alone. If Rick didn't kill me with his bare hands after that, then I'd take the liberty of shooting myself in the head. Staring dumbly at the radio on the floor before me, I hoped and downright prayed that Carl would be alright.

I had gotten into the habit of trying to ignore all thoughts and memories of that day at the prison. Even when the face of the others came to mind, I pushed it aside - trying to keep in the moment and keep my mind on the two I was surviving along side. The Grimes' boys were my only focus now, while Sophia, Daryl and the others still lingered constantly, I knew (hoped) that they were safe somewhere else. Maggie and Glenn had promised to take care of her, and I knew they wouldn't break that promise. And Daryl had the capability to survive anything, it seemed. He'd be fine. But what about Merle? Michonne? Sasha? Herschel?

The memories were pushed aside quickly and I focused solely on Rick's breathing. It still remained laboured, but the fact he was still breathing sent a wave of relief through me. Every minute of every day we'd spent cooped up in that house, I urged for him to wake up properly. I needed him to wake up. While Carl and I were managing to cope alone, I knew that we needed him. He was the defiant leader of the group and while our group had been condensed to only three now, I knew the same principles applied. He would know what to do, I was just a measly stand in right now, attempting to take care of a boy so determind to take care of himself.

As the silence drew on, the screams in my memories got louder. Gunshots, crying, explosions, screaming, more gunshots - they overwhelmed my head and I was unable to drown them out - Judith crying, someone screaming in pain, the explosion that ripped through us all, the continued sounds of gunfire-

Closing my eyes didn't help, because the images then crept back. Tyreese's head being severed from his body, Herschel lying in his own pool of blood, the guard tower exploding, Sasha's scream at the sight of her brother's body, Merle's last smirk, Daryl's final kiss, Sophia's terrified face, Lori's and Judith's blood-soaked bodies, The Governor's final moments. Red staining white. So much red.

I opened my eyes, terrified of closing them again. Swallowing hard, I tried to rid the lump that was forming in my throat at the sudden wave of panic that overwhelmed me. Finding the need to have something to do, to take my mind off the horrific memories while I waited for Carl to return, I found myself crawling over to the couch Rick's unconscious body lay on. Studying the man, I noted the gleam of sweat that soaked his forehead and quickly busied myself in finding a clean cloth. After finding another strip of ripped bed sheets that hadn't been used yet, I carefully began to wipe Rick's face clean, trying to focus on his breathing again - attempting to calm my own in the process.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

"All this would be a hell of a lot easier if you were awake, y'know." I muttered, frowning at the unconscious man. "You'd know what to do because Jesus I haven't the slightest idea what I'm doing right now." Chuckling bitterly, I sighed. Inhale, exhale. "For all I know, the three of us are the only ones left. So you better not die on us, because I'm gonna be seriously pissed off if you do." Inhale, exhale. "We need you to wake up, Rick. Carl needs his father right now more than ever and I can't do this by myself." I studied the man's face, willing with all my energy for him to open his eyes. No response. "You have to survive this, Rick. For Carl's sake, if not mine. The kid's just lost his-" I paused, realising this would be the first time I'd speak out loud of what happened since that day. I swallowed hard. "He's lost his mother and his sister so he sure as hell can't lose his father too. Heck, I know the world's cruel but I know you're strong enough to beat it." Inhale, exhale. "If anyone can, it's you, Rick. Just, wake up." Inhale, exhale. "Please-"

A loud banging from above caught my attention and immediately I was on my feet, gun at the ready. As soon as I entered the hallway though and saw the figure descending the stairs, all panic faded.

"Jesus, that was quick." I muttered, not able to contain the smile from my face as Carl reached the bottom of the stairs. The boy himself couldn't seem to stop the slight grin illuminating his own face either. Wordlessly, he held out the backpack. When I took it from him, I was surprised by the weight of it. I raised an eyebrow.

"There were no walkers." He shrugged, entering the living room and walking straight to the map wall. I followed him, opening the bag and peaking inside. I eyed the various cans and objects inside. "It was pretty easy." Carl bent down to the box full of chalk, taking out a dark blue one and marking a large 'X' on the house he had just looted.

"Nice work, Carl." I smiled, meeting the boy's gaze. "I am impressed, well done." The happy look on the boy's face at my words was probably the most genuine response I had received from Carl since leaving the prison. That was worrying.

The next supply run that was instigated, I took a turn doing. We didn't decide to do it straight after Carl's run as the supplies he had gathered lasted us some time. Though when eleven markings marked the wall beside the chalk map, I decided another run would be beneficial. Right side, house number three.

We repeated the same procedure as we did with Carl - ammo and weapon check. Carl offered a similar speech regarding radio and the boy watched me jump down from the veranda and head on over to the designated house. More walkers had begun to stagger down our street now, so I had to keep my movements low and quiet. I reached the house without any hitch though and carried out my search as quickly, all intention of returning back to Carl and Rick as fast as I could.

There was a single old walker in the house I was looking through, though I took it out quickly and began my search. Scanning through some of the old man's cupboards, I found a few boxes of what seemed to be gun shells and this ignited my curiosity. If he had the ammo, then surely he had the weapon. Sure enough, after searching high and low, I found the weapon underneath one of the beds. It was a shotgun, not dissimilar to the one Shane had. I studied it carefully for a moment, thanking the heavens for this find. I pocketed all the ammo for it that I could find before heading back, eager to show Carl the gun. An odd sentiment.

"Look what I've got." I called, heading back down the stairs. Carl's head appeared around the corner as I neared the bottom and the boy's eyebrows raised high at the item in my hand. I handed it to him when his hand outstretched for it. "An awesome find, huh?"

"Definitely!" Carl hummed his approval.

The apparent agreement between Carl and I was the lack of communication regarding anything other than such mundane and practical things. It was difficult to find the time to attempt to talk about what had happened back at the prison or anything at all really with the boy, though I still remained determind to try. Over the days we had been together - the markings on the wall signified a total of two weeks now - I had watched Carl transpire into what could only be described as a cold killer. Not the Grimes' boy that I had once known.

What seemed evident though with Carl was the fact that while he was bottling everything up, there was a point that meant he could bottle up no more. No one could keep all he had been through in without some cracks starting to show. I wondered if Carl was heading for a breaking point, where all his emotions would just flow out of him all at once. The thought worried me as that had been what I had intended to avoid, only making me even more determind to talk to Carl about stuff.

When there was sixteen markings on the wall however, the cracks began to seep.

Carl had been given right side, house number two and I was left waiting for him to return. The worry overwhelmed me as it did the last time, though instead of talking to an unconscious Rick, I busied myself in the kitchen, glancing through cupboards to see if we had missed anything by chance. Passing the bin, however, an object caught my eye.

Baby formula.

I had always wondered where Carl had put the baby formula since finding it in the backpack we had brought with us, though I found myself rendered unable to move as I stared at the object lying in the trash. He had thrown the object away, almost like he had pushed aside every other reminder of that day. I braced myself against the counter, a feeling of sickness washing over me for a moment. The crackle of the radio, however, sprung me to alert.

"Ruby?"Carl's worried voice hissed through. I dived on the radio that I had left on the counter beside me.

"Carl? What's happened, are you alright?" I rushed out, frantically.

"Walkers," The radio crackled out. "They have me trapped inside the main bedroom." I was already on my way through into the living room, reaching for my gun that I had left beside Rick.

"I'm on my way, Carl. Hang tight." I urged.

"I'm in right side, house number one." Wait- house number one? Frowning, I turned to the chalk map. Carl was supposed to be checking house number two, not one. Had he got confused? Only after a moments hesitation though, I was back on alert and was running up the stairs and onto the veranda. I ran through the snow covered front yards as fast as I could towards the house at the end of the street. Eyeing the ground, I noted the foot prints that I assumed were Carl's leading into house number two and back out again towards house number one. Frowning, I surprised a groan. Carl had decided to try search them both, it seemed. Despite me telling him not to.

Not bothered about making any noise, I raced up the stairs to the sounds of walkers snarling. Three of them were clawing at one of the closed doors and I didn't hesitate in taking out my knife and plunging it into the first walker's head. By the time the second had fallen, the third noticed my presence, though it was too late. It fell along side the others and I was left panting with exhaustion. Carl opened the door slowly, his eyes passing over the bodies before turning to me.

For a long moments time we just regarded each other, neither speaking. Inside, I began to seethe while Carl remained a blank page. So much I wanted to say in that moment, but the bodies between us reminded me of our situation. Not here.

"C'mon." I muttered, turning and walking away without another word. Carl's footsteps followed me and we returned back to the house in silence.

I marched through the snow, gripping the handle of my knife so tightly. Climbing back up onto the veranda was an easy job and I paused briefly to make sure Carl was up safely too, providing a hand up when I saw him struggling. Inside, I waited until I had reached the living room before loosening the grip on my knife.

"Please tell me that you got the houses mixed up." I hissed, turning slowly to face the boy stood in the doorway. He stared back for a moment, his expression unreadable.

"I searched house number two and there wasn't any walkers inside." Carl began slowly. "I figured house number one would be the same." I scoffed, bitterly.

"You figured?" I muttered, shaking my head slowly. "The rule was that you search one house, Carl, one house!" Carl frowned.

"I don't see what the big deal is-"

"The big deal?" I cried, raising the radio in my hand up. "I just had to come save you because you weren't where you were supposed to be. That's the big deal, Carl!"

"But I'm okay so it doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters because next time you might not be okay!" Carl's frown only deepened. I eyed Rick's figure carefully before sighing. "Look. We stick to these rules; we stay safe. That's how it works, alright?"

"I don't see why we've made such a big deal about searching some houses." Carl carried on, his tone harsh. "We get in, we get out. We could get them all done in one day. Why the hell is it taking us so long? Why the hell do we need to draw a map? Why the hell do we need to follow all these 'rules'-?"

"Because being organised is how we survive." I tried, calmly, though my resolve was breaking. Over two weeks worth of penned up emotions was coming out.

"Since when was that our motto?"

"Since we lost everyone!" The room fell silent at my outburst and again we just stared at each other, finally taking in the realisation of what had happened to us two weeks ago. The admitting of all we'd lost. Carl's expression turned dark for a moment and I swallowed hard, trying to battle down all the feelings and emotions that just wanted to burst free. Not now. Swallowing hard, I steadied my breaths and tried again. "Look, I'm just trying to keep you safe-"

"Why?" Carl asked, slowly, his face of thunder. I frowned at his question.

"Why?" I repeated, confused. His glared deepened.

"I don't need someone to take care of me-"

"I never said you did-"

"I can take care of myself-"

"Carl, I didn't mean-"

"You're not responsible for me." I shook my head, trying to get my meaning across, though Carl wouldn't allow it. "I'm not your son." I fell silent at that, my entire being suddenly frozen. Carl's lips turned up into a snarl as he spat out the next words. "And you sure as hell ain't my mom."

Carl's hard footsteps sounded up the stairs as I stood staring into the space he once stood. The following sounds of a door slamming above made me flinch and for the longest time I stood wordlessly, confused at what had just happened. Staggering a little, I fell to the floor beside the couch, shaking my head and willing the tears not to break. My head fell against a spot near Rick's head and the sound of his laboured breaths steadied me for a few moments. Only a few.

Everything was falling apart before me and no matter what I tried to do, everything and everyone I loved were slipping from my grasp.

And I had no idea what to do.

(Author's Note): So after all the kerfuffle regarding Loginquitas, I did decide to split the story in two and I do understand that this first chapter is something that people may have already read. What I am going to do with each chapter now is though, is I'm going to go through them. I'm not going to change the storyline though I may add in occasional details to improve it as well as checking for spelling and grammar mistakes. I'm not rewriting anything, I'm just proof-reading it all again just to bring it up a notch. None of the major plotlines will change, though some details, some conversations and interactions might. I get that people don't want to re-read it all again and I do respect that. I do urge you all to bear with me while I proof-read the chapters before uploading them again as I might as well do it now than leaving it to do them later. If people would prefer to wait until I will have a fresh, new update then that's completely fine. After uploading all the previous chapters from Loginquitas, the new update should be chapter 13. So those who don't want to re-read everything again, keep an eye out for chapter 13.

Thank you so much for your support in this and I'm sorry it's a bit of a faff. But I'll try and straighten everything out, ASAP! As I don't actually need to write any of the updates, it's just a case of reading them and adding bits and pieces here and there. So I will try and upload when I can. Though I will say that if I don't upload the next chapter quickly then it's probably due to some travelling I have to do coming up in the next few days/weeks. The updates will not be stretched too far out though. It won't be like waited for normal updates, that usually take weeks. Days at the maximum, hopefully. Though if I get into a flow and have enough time, I may get a few done and ready in one go. It just depends on timing.

For those who are waiting for the newer updates, keep an eye out for chapter 13. Though for those who don't mind re-reading or those who are new readers, I'll get another update up soon. Thank you for everyone's support!