A/N: Holy shit, I finally finished it! Okay first off, I'd like to thank everyone who ever read, reviewed, or even visited this story. All of your feedback has been the main reason I even felt like writing more!

Rick peered through the binoculars out at the landscape that lay beyond the prison walls. A small herd of walkers, fifteen at the most, was milling around the tree line, though none of them seemed to be very interested in the encampment inside the impregnable walls. For now, Rick felt no need to dispose of them; the group was out of sight and even if sounds carried over the walls, the walkers could not break through either the walls or the doubly-padlocked chain-link fence.

Three weeks prior, after the Atlanta survivors abandoned the cabins in central Alabama. The group had gone long and hard, hitting a large horde of walkers somewhere outside Cheaha State Park. However, the herd was lost quickly and from Talladega the group headed northwest, making a break for Tennessee. Shane was still persistent in arguing Rick's navigational decisions, bent on the idea that by heading further away from civilization, they were, in turn, heading away from any chance at being rescued.

Rick, in his opinion, was leading them to their deaths. The further west they travelled, the more likely food was going to be harder and harder to come by. There was also a greater risk of running into unfriendlies—and rednecks. Shane hated rednecks, as if Daryl wasn't proof enough of that. While he missed the chance of having venison for dinner, Shane was so not prepared at any time to welcome Daryl—or Leigh for that matter—back to the group. The fewer the people standing between him and his survival, the better. Lately, as they headed west, he'd been feeling more and more high-strung—he picked fights whenever he didn't agree with something, even small issues like laundry when they stumbled upon the occasional stream, and his temper seemed to have a shorter and shorter fuse as the days went on. If someone so much as looked at him wrong, Shane was down his or her throat.

This newly-developed attitude did not go unnoticed by the group, least of all by Rick. With every rise and set of the sun, Rick watched as the Shane he used to know disappeared and was replaced by a man he didn't recognize. This new man was coarse and rough and angry at everything. He raised his voice more often than not at the group, even when someone made a simple suggestion. Lately Rick was more inclined to hear everyone else's opinion—Shane, clearly, was not. He'd spoken to Lori about the changes in Shane, and she, too, had noticed that he was becoming angrier and angrier. She worried that he would snap soon should someone make a wrong move. Though Shane spent most of his time now away from the group and on his own, everyone was still slightly on-edge that he would explode and someone would get hurt.

Rick sighed as he lowered the binoculars, letting them hang around his neck. When they'd stumbled across the prison, most of the inmates and guards had become walkers. They were easily taken care of and Rick led a small group inside the building to clear it out. There, they found a well-stocked kitchen and there were enough cells that didn't house a body or two. Those were cleared out and burned with the rest and their former cells were kept quarantined.

This place had become a home to them in the three short weeks they'd been there. Inside, they'd met four prison inmates—Axel, Dexter, Thomas, and Andrew—who welcomed the Atlanta survivors with mostly open arms. While both groups were wary of the other, there were no acts of violence whatsoever—though, as expected, Shane had quite a lot to say about the fact that they were boarding with criminals.

A gun shot threw Rick into alert. Racing down from the tower, he flew down the aisle of C-block and out the doors into the courtyard. Andrea had her gun pointed at the fence, the barrel still steaming.

"What's going on?" Rick asked as he skidded to a stop between her and Dale. Dale adjusted the fisher's hat on his head and sighed.

"Walker tried climbing the fence. Got about halfway up before we noticed him," he replied, his voice tight. Rick looked towards the fence where, beyond that, he could make out the numerous shapes of walkers milling around.

"It got over the first two fences?" he reiterated worriedly. Andrea and Dale exchanged a look and nodded. Cursing, Rick ran a hand over his head, pursed his lips. At the moment, he wasn't too worried. "I don't think we should worry too much just yet. We'll see what happens. If the others start picking up on their ability to climb, then we'll make a decision."

The two next to him nodded again and Rick turned around to head back into the building. Lori was sitting in the Grimes' designated cell with Carl, who had a notebook in his lap. More lessons, Rick thought with a small smile. He leaned against the cell wall and watched his wife and son. His eyes trailed downward to Lori's slightly-protruding belly. Not long after the Atlanta survivors had arrived at the Greene farm, Rick had made the discovery that Lori was pregnant, though, without being able to keep track of the days, it was hard to tell how far along.

At first, they argued; Rick had come across a package of morning-after pills and found Lori sitting by herself and accusations and admissions were made. Lori cried, Rick felt on the verge of doing the same, but after a long, tense silence, he sighed and suggested they put it behind them. While under any other circumstance he'd be ecstatic about being an expecting father for the second time, the new world in which they lived was a harsh place to raise a baby. The Atlanta survivors were now living day to day; now, their future was limited to the next sunrise rather than ten or so years down the road. Every day could be their last. Now, with the added bonus of a baby, everyone, including the baby's parents, would be on edge.

Rick was already worried that the walkers outside the fences would begin to crowd around and eventually push the barriers down. With a baby crying, they'd be spurred even further to get inside. He knew, though, that nothing could be done about it now. With Hershel's help, the baby could be delivered easily and successfully.

It had taken him some convincing, but Rick had been able to talk Hershel into coming with the Atlanta survivors to the prison. After the barn incident, nothing held Hershel to his farm. He no longer saw the walkers as sick people. After Shane had put a number of bullets into the chest of his former neighbor, Louise, and proceeded to massacre the family he kept in the barn, Hershel realized that the people who died and came back were no longer human. They shared the same qualities as animals after death took them and brought them back. They now knew only the primal instinct of survival. Their memories, their humanity, were gone.

Hershel had proceeded to teach the others how to work the land, how to plant seeds and harvest them when the time came. With the added bonus of a well-stocked room inside the prison cafeteria, it seemed the survivors were set for quite some time.

"Hey Rick!" Glenn called as he jogged up to the former cop. Rick looked up at the young man and waved in greeting. "Dale and I think too many walkers are starting to crowd around the fence. I suggested we go out and pick 'em off, but Dale won't without your approval." As if on cue, the older man came up beside Glenn, huffing and puffing a little heavily.

"Well you've got it. I was startin' to get a little worried about them crowdin' the fence and eventually pushin' it over. What're you guys usin' for weapons?"

"Well I've got my axe and I gave Glenn a baseball bat. He can swing it better than I can," replied Dale, waving the former weapon for emphasis. Rick nodded.

"Just be careful, and if things get too hairy you get yourselves out." Glenn and Dale both nodded, and the younger man gave a mock salute. Rick smirked and nodded again, turning away at the same time Dale and Glenn headed out.

"Let's split 'em up," suggested Dale as the pair of them stood at the gate of the fence, donning a couple of riot suits that Glenn had found in the armory. "Keep the gate at your back. If they surround us, we can make a quick getaway. Axel and the guys are ready to close it behind us."

When the Atlanta survivors first arrived at the prison, there had been four inmates left behind—Axel, an older man whose beard reminded most of the survivors of Santa Claus, Dexter, a burly African-American man, Andrew, his younger charge, and Thomas, a nerdy-looking man who'd said he'd been bagged for tax fraud. Not long after arriving, more than a few incidents occurred, resulting in the deaths of both Thomas and Dexter and the disappearance of Andrew. It seemed that Thomas was a shady character to the inmates as well as the newcomers.

Glenn nodded and lowered the visor on his helmet, brandished his shield and baseball bat as if he were a knight back in the Middle Ages. Dale smirked and gave a swift shake of his head at the younger man's enthusiasm.

"What? I've been waiting to get this suit on. Now that I do, I feel indestructible. Like the Hulk."

Dale chuckled, "All right, Hulk. Let's go clear this place out."

While they worked, Dale thought of Leigh and Daryl, which in turn made him think of Andrea. He knew the young woman had been extremely angry that they packed up and left while Leigh and Daryl were still out on their hunt. She was all for survival—not quite as Shane, however—but when it came to leaving two of their own behind in order to do so, that's where she drew the line. That's also what made her and the rest of the Atlanta survivors so different from the former deputy. While Shane was willing to put others at risk to save the ones he loved most—and it was clear to Dale that those people were limited to Lori and Carl only—he stood alone in that aspect. Dale saw it as a reminder of their humanity, that in order to survive they couldn't just abandon someone whenever they saw fit. He himself wasn't pleased with the decision to leave Leigh and Daryl, even if Daryl could be a hot-headed jerk sometimes. Daryl was half the reason the group had even been able to eat. Without his hunting and tracking skills, the survivors were severely lacking in protein that typically came from the meat he brought back. While their appetites were more than satiated every night, nothing beat a meal of venison.

Dale brought his axe down on the head of his fifth walker, grimacing as he yanked the blade out with a sickening squelch and crack of bone. With a moment to rest before the next one came at him, Dale leaned backwards, his free hand on his lower back. Killing walkers was back-breaking work; he wasn't as young as he used to be and it didn't take much nowadays for him to get a crick in his old bones.

He turned his head and looked back towards the prison and then out at the land before him. In a matter of three short weeks, this place had become the closest thing to home that any of the survivors were going to get. Food was readily available, protection was easily acquired, and the company was even better now that Hershel and his family joined the Atlanta survivors. The livestock hadn't been easy to transport since Hershel didn't have any actual horse trailers, and they had to be loaded into the back of a truck with a bed much too small, but it worked. The few cows, horses, and chickens were free to roam around within the inner-most fence and so far there hadn't been a problem.

Things with Andrea were looking up for Dale. Shortly after leaving Hershel's farm, it was inevitable that he and the young blonde would find comfort in each other. After the barn incident, neither of them was the same. While Dale was constantly worried that Andrea would move on—to who, he wasn't sure—because of their age difference, Andrea was quick to quiet him with a stern stare. She constantly reminded him that she loved him and that no other man within a twenty-mile vicinity could make her feel what she felt for Dale. This was always the argument that stopped his complaints.

Meanwhile, Glenn and Maggie's relationship had the same bright future—minus the constant reminder that any of them could be dead in a day. Glenn had spoken to Hershel, whose opinion of the boy seemed to brighten the more he saw Glenn and Maggie together, and he'd given Glenn his blessings and approval of marrying his daughter. However unofficial it was, the ceremony was just what the couple was hoping for—short and simple. Glenn had asked Rick to find a couple of rings they could use, and before most of the walker bodies were burned, he scoured every left hand for silver and gold wedding bands. He'd come up successful, and Carl was their ring-bearer. Children weren't in the newlyweds' near-future, but Maggie was persistent in convincing Glenn that she wanted at least one child before either of them was killed. This was a brooding thought that hung heavy in Glenn's mind, and he realized that Maggie had a distinct point.

He smiled as he recalled two days prior. Maggie had come to him while he was speaking with Hershel about the new crops with news that she was three weeks pregnant. Hershel hugged Maggie and his son-in-law, pleased with the news that he would have at least one grandchild whom he could spoil and love before the Lord called for him.

Glenn sighed as he straightened. His baseball bat was covered in black walker gore, and he knew no matter how hard he scrubbed the light brown color of the wood would not be fully restored. He looked over at Dale, frowning when the old man gave a grunt at his sore back. Glenn had tried to convince Dale to let Shane or Axel take his place, but the older man was ever persistent, claiming if he just sat around with Andrea, she'd talk his ear off. Glenn didn't doubt that at all and so he took Dale's side. Disposing of walkers was something the two of them could keep between each other, something they did together that brought them close. Not as close as their previous situations had, but Glenn had begun to see Dale as an almost father-figure, which was weird to think about when he remembered that he was seeing Andrea. With this new place of refuge, Glenn felt closer to every one of the survivors than he ever had before.

Yes, this place was about as close to perfect that any of them would ever come to again.

A/N: I know this ends in a rather weird place, but that's because... -drum roll- I plan to write a sequel! I'm not sure when and I'm not sure how long it will be, but there will eventually be a sequel. Following this story I will be working on a new Walking Dead fiction and it's going to be much different from this one. For one, I'm going to better include the perspectives of the other survivors, and I'm also going to lean a few details towards the graphic novels. Of course, it will be another Daryl Dixon fic, but come on, A) he's just too attractive and B) he's fun to write about and it's fun to put him in abnormal situations, no?