Hello, all. So, I'm both nervous and excited to get this sequel started. I really have been looking forward to writing it, and I never thought I would get this far. The actual title is a reference to "Spirits" by The Strumbellas, which I have always thought was an amazing Walking Dead song. Anyway! Today's chapter title is "Iridescent" by Linkin Park, and if you haven't heard it it's a really beautiful, inspirational song that I think fits perfectly with this episode/chapter. Let me know what you think.

1. Iridescent

Mason looked up from her grimy hands and shook her head. Eugene regarded her silently, unsurprised. Defeated. Numbly she pushed herself to her feet and led the way out of the woods.

Halfway to the road, three walkers cut across their path. She took them down in five seconds, splattering both Eugene and herself with gore. Neither of them cared. Like her, he was already covered in sweat and dirt and old blood.

The others waited by the van, all of them as pitiful and feral as Mason and Eugene. Rick looked up as they approached, but Mason shook her head. Daryl, Maggie and Sasha had already returned from their scouting. Clearly they hadn't found any either.

They settled down side by side on the pavement, staring into empty space. It had been a day and a half since any of them had found water, and they were down to their last bottles. The days were hot and unforgiving. All the streams they'd come across were shriveled veins.

Rick, Carol and Glenn went over the map for the fortieth time, and just like every time before they said the same thing.

"I guess we'll just follow the highway until we find something."

It was almost funny.

Find what?

~m~

The van whined to a stop.

"We're out," Abraham said. "Just like the last one."

"So we walk," Rick replied.

Lifelessly, everyone exited the car.

The heat was oppressive, oven-hot and muggy as a sauna. The sky was scorching blue. Cloudless.

No one spoke as they forged ahead. The sun beat them into silence.

After a while, walkers caught their scent and began trailing after them, but they were far enough away that they didn't pose a threat. The group certainly wasn't in any shape to take them on anyway.

Daryl and Carol disappeared around noon to look for water, but Mason knew they wouldn't find any. It seemed obvious to her that this was it. This was the end. But she didn't say this out loud.

When they reached the bridge, Rick stopped.

"This is it," he said. "This is where we make our stand."

He, Glenn and Michonne lined up on the left side of the bridge, Abraham, Sasha and Maggie on the right. Mason led the others across to guard them while they waited.

When the walkers came, they started off taking them one by one. They didn't fight. They waited at the edge of the bridge until the walkers came close enough, then stepped aside to let them fall into the gully.

It might've worked until every last one of them was dead, but Sasha had other plans. She advanced into the flood of walkers, grabbing one by the throat and stabbing it in the head.

The others flanked her quickly, and Mason lurched to her feet, fire poker at the ready in case she was needed. Before she could rush in, however, Daryl and Carol appeared from the woods and descended into the fray. The tides turned. Soon every walker was dead.

The group shambled on.

~m~

They came across some abandoned cars about an hour later, but none of them were workable. Mason, Eugene and Tara swept one for supplies, but found nothing except old mail and a couple of crushed beer cans.

"We'll stop here for the night," Rick said. Nobody argued.

They made no fire. There was no dinner to eat. Everyone sprawled wherever they could, close enough together to stay safe, far enough apart that the body heat didn't stifle them.

Mason stuck as close to Eugene as possible. Three weeks since Beth and the nightmares had not let up. She was resigned to them, had become well-acquainted with them. They were old friends now. But without his presence she could not handle them, could not simply lie down and let them roll over her. Without him, she panicked.

Tonight was no different. She awoke with a foot of distance between them, one hand outstretched so that her pinky finger rested on his. Just seeing his face calmed her considerably, and after a minute her pulse evened completely.

Something moved in the trees.

The breath caught in her throat, panic returning so swiftly her vision blurred.

No. No. Not again. Not this.

Still she rose. She had to see. She had to.

"Mason?" Eugene murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

"Shh."

"What are you doing?"

She ground her teeth, looking around to make sure they hadn't woken anyone.

"Just come with me," she hissed.

He followed her into the woods. Though he didn't move nearly as silently as she did, she appreciated that he was trying to make as little noise as possible.

Once they were some distance from the group, he whispered, "What is it that we're doing?"

"I thought I saw something."

Eugene stopped. She glared at him. She knew exactly what he was thinking.

"It's not like before," she said, and it wasn't. There was no evidence of anything celestial, no scent of rain. Still, her heart fluttered unevenly. "I just…I need to know what it is. If it's a person, we need to know. If it's a walker, I'll kill it."

After a moment, he nodded and drew his knife. "Okay."

Side by side they drew deeper into the woods. They saw nothing but Mason couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched…

A twig snapped behind them.

Mason whipped around, taking a protective stance in front of Eugene.

"What the hell are you two doin' out here?"

Daryl stepped out of the shadows and Mason relaxed her grip on her fire iron.

"I thought I saw someone out here," she said.

But Daryl didn't seem to hear her. His eyes were narrowed, flicking from her to Eugene, and there was animosity in them. Confused, she went on the defensive and glared back.

"C'mon," he growled. "Ya'll shouldn't be out here alone."

He led the way back to the camp, but once they were there Mason stopped. Eugene looked expectantly at her.

"I'll be there in a second," she said, and her voice brooked no argument.

When he was gone, she rounded on Daryl. "What is your problem?"

"I don't have a problem," he said but she recognized his belligerent tone.

"Don't try to lie to me."

"Man, I ain't lyin'. I just think you goin' out with him late at night is a dumbass thing to do."

"I thought I saw someone. I needed to check it out."

"Yeah, but why take him with you?"

"Because I didn't want him waking everyone else up."

Daryl snorted. "Right."

She stared. "What are you trying to say?"

"Man, I'm sayin'," he snarled, looming over her, "maybe you spend a little less time worrying over him. Jumpin' in front of him like you're his goddamn protector. He ain't shit. He would've let you die for him."

Stinging with outrage, she stepped forward until they were nose to nose. "Don't you ever say that to me again," she hissed. "You don't know anything about him."

"I know he tricked you into becoming his bodyguard. I know he took you away from your real family when they needed you. And maybe if you hadn't gone with him, Beth would still be alive!"

She slapped him hard enough to make her hand go numb. Tears burned a path down her cheeks. She stared at him in disbelief but he wouldn't look at her. Finally, without another word, she fled back to camp.

Eugene was waiting up for her. "Is everything okay?" he asked, but she just lay down next to him and buried her face in his chest. She didn't care about the stifling heat and he didn't care about the tears staining his shirt.

~m~

The next day was much of the same until they stopped to rest around noon. They sat at the edge of the road, silent, vacant. Abraham sipped from a fifth of whiskey.

"So all he found was booze?" Tara said.

"Yeah," Rosita said.

"It's not gonna help."

"He knows that."

"It's gonna make it worse."

"Yes, it is."

"He's a grown man," Eugene said. "And I truly do not know if things can get any worse."

Without looking at him, Rosita replied, "They can."

As though her words were a signal, the trees on the other side of the road rustled and out emerged five ragged, snarling dogs. It was clear they had once been pets- their collars and tags were evidence of that- but had long since reverted to their primitive nature.

Everyone tensed, drawing their weapons, but before anyone could move Sasha shot the beasts down.

After a moment, Rick nodded to himself and began assembling kindling for a fire.

They ate dog meat for lunch, the first food they'd had in days. They were too hungry to complain. Their faces were grimy and so, so tired.

Mason didn't miss it when Gabriel pulled the clerical collar from his shirt and tossed it in the fire.

She stared at the sky, where clouds had finally gathered but refused to give up their essence.

They were damned.

~m~

Hours later, as they were cresting a hill, they spotted something in the distance that reinforced the sandpaper ache in Mason's throat.

There were bottles of water in the road, more than enough for all of them. Attached was a note that read "From a friend" in plain black lettering. Mason glanced at Eugene and saw that he was thinking the same thing. What if she'd seen this "friend" last night?

Though everyone's eyes gleamed with thirst, no one took the bait. They milled around uncertainly, weapons ready, starkly conscious of their surroundings.

Finally, Tara spoke up. "What else are we gonna do?"

"Not this," Rick replied. "We don't know who left it."

"If that's a trap, we already happen to be in it," Eugene said. "But I for one would like to think it is indeed from a friend."

"What if it isn't?" Carol replied. "What if they put something in it?"

Without responding, Eugene grabbed one of the bottles and unscrewed the lid.

"Eugene! What are you doing?" Mason grabbed for the bottle but he swung away.

"Quality assurance."

He lifted it to his lips but before he could take a drink Abraham slapped the bottle away. Briefly his eyes met Mason's but she couldn't read the expression in them.

Rick glared sternly at Eugene. "We can't."

The sky rumbled.

They looked up as one.

And the rain started.

For a moment, everyone was too breathless with disbelief to react. Then Michonne and Carol began to laugh, and Tara and Rosita lay side by side on the ground with matching grins, and Rick and Carl began setting out bottles to catch the water in.

But Mason didn't move. Maggie didn't, Sasha didn't, Daryl didn't.

The four of them stood silent as the rain soaked washed them clean.

Lightning spidered above their heads. Thunder cracked. The smiles disappeared as the group became aware of the thunderhead moving angrily in their direction.

"Let's keep moving," Rick shouted over the noise.

Breaking from his trance, Daryl replied, "There's a barn. In the woods."

"Take us there."

~m~

The barn was small and took little time to clear. Rick, Glenn, Daryl and Michonne attempted to make a fire with what little wood they'd managed to snag, but it was too wet to do much more than flicker.

Mason and Eugene huddled down close by. With his sodden hair and clothes, he looked pitifully scruffy, and this put an unexpected lump in her throat.

"He's gonna be okay."

Mason blinked, thinking at first that Carol was talking to her, until she saw Rick glancing worriedly at Carl and Judith. They slept curled together in a pile of hay, looking more peaceful than any of the others.

"I used to feel sorry for kids that have to grow up now," Rick said. "But I think I got it wrong. Growing up's getting used to the world."

"This isn't the world," Michonne said. Her expression was sharp with agitation. Ghosts flickered in her eyes. "This isn't it."

"It might be," Glenn said quietly.

"That's giving up."

"That's reality, until we see otherwise," Rick said.

Mason flinched, enough that Eugene wrapped an arm around her.

I know you're scared, Mason. But this isn't like before. It isn't over.

"When I was a kid, I asked my grandpa once if he ever killed any Germans in the war," Rick continued. "He wouldn't answer. Said that was grown-up stuff. So I asked if any Germans ever tried to kill him. And he got real quiet. He said he was dead the minute he stepped into enemy territory."

Ever since I just kept moving, caught between life and death.

"Every day he woke up, told himself, 'Rest in peace. Now get up and go to war.' And then after a few years of pretending he was dead, he made it out alive."

I told myself it was because I was dead already, but I was worse than dead.

"That's the trick of it, I think. We do what we need to do, and then we get to live. No matter what happens I know we'll be okay. Because this is how we survive."

I was a walker, too.

"We tell ourselves that we are the walking dead."

His eyes met hers across the campfire and she saw the ghosts again. She knew he was remembering that day at the prison, down in the boiler room, knew he was remembering her story. She saw the ghosts and knew he was seeing hers, too.

"We ain't them," Daryl growled.

"Hey." Rick reached out a quelling hand. "We're not."

But Daryl refused to be soothed. He got to his feet and said it again.

"We ain't dead."

Mason watched him disappear to the back of the barn where the shadows were thickest. Then she looked at Rick. They weren't the only ones carrying ghosts on their backs. Patting Eugene's arm to let him know everything was okay, or at least as okay as it could be, she stood and followed Daryl.

He paced back and forth by the back door and didn't acknowledge her. Quietly she sat, leaning back against the wall, and watched him for a while before closing her eyes. They would talk when he was ready. No sense trying now, while he was supercharged with this manic energy.

Suddenly Daryl let out a shout, and Mason's eyes flew open to see him pressing desperately against the door, which bowed in as though from a great weight.

She scrambled to her feet, sliding in straw that covered the floor, and slammed into the door.

Snarling sounded from the other side, nearly drowned by the furious wail of the wind and rain. Daryl looked at her and she looked at him and there was no anger in that moment, none of the dark veil that had separated them since Beth's death. There was only the terror of keeping their people safe.

The walkers pushed insistently at the doors, and there were too many to hold back for long. Mason's arms trembled from the strain. Rain flew in through the gap, drenching her.

Then suddenly Maggie was there, and Sasha, too. They forced their weight against the doors, four of them linked by their grief and united in their desperation.

But there were just too many. And the storm was growing louder, more violent, crashing against the walls of the barn like it meant to break it down.

Just when she thought her muscles would give, the weight lessened a bit. Rick had appeared, and Michonne and Glenn and Carol. Abraham, Rosita, Tara. Carl, Noah, Gabriel.

Eugene.

He slammed his hands against the groaning planks beside her, his weight and shadow warm against her, lending her strength.

And the smell of rain was everywhere, washing clean the stench of death.

And his hand came to close over hers, holding tight.

And they were all together, her family was together, they were together.

The storm screamed and Mason screamed back.

~m~

When she awoke, she was in Eugene's arms. Everything was silent, a far cry from the cacophony of last night. She stared at the ceiling for a long time, listening to the sound of his heart beating against her ear.

After a while, she noticed Daryl sitting alone against the doors, watching her with an unreadable expression. Gently she extricated herself from Eugene and went over to him.

They sat in silence for a while. The others lay scattered across the room in a mess of limbs. A wave of warmth washed over her, the first in a long time.

"You know I didn't mean it," Daryl finally said.

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"She called me out on my bullshit, too."

Mason let out a strangled noise, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "That's my girl."

He nodded and wrapped an arm around her. "C'mere."

She leaned her head on his shoulder, let the tears come as silently as they would. And though the pain ripped through her, though it was unbelievable, though her fingers trembled with it, she welcomed it gratefully.

It would still hurt. It would hurt every goddamn day, and sometimes she wouldn't know what to do with herself. Sometimes she would be nothing more than a ghost.

But she wasn't alone this time.

She wasn't alone.