One funeral and silent tears later, we've laid Tyreese in the ground and have continued on our journey down the road.

I can't believe we lost another group member, and seeing the cross with his iconic beanie sitting overtop just made it feel even more real.

We lost another friend.

Rick has decided that we're going to Washington, cure or none. I'm just hoping for a safe place.

The morning is hot, and the sun beats down on our sweaty foreheads and exposed shoulders. Everyone sits beside the van save for Daryl, Sasha, and Maggie. They went looking for water.

I shut my eyes, trying to divert my thoughts from my parched tongue and aching everything. It's been a day and half without water, and we're all feeling the side effects of dehydration. No one makes any conversation, but I'm ok with that. It's not like we have much to say.

Suddenly, my stomach twists and what feels like an invisible force punches up my throat from my stomach. I fall forwards onto my hands and knees, dry heaving. There's nothing in my stomach to throw up, but my body is telling me to. It's hard to breathe, my breath heavy.

"Hope?" Rick asks, his tone concerned.

My stomach keeps trying, but I can't. I physically can't, and the pain is making tears well in my eyes. My nose nearly brushes the dirty ground beneath me, and yet my stomach won't stop convulsing. I feel Carol's hand on my back, rubbing comfortingly.

I can hear the others muttering worriedly to themselves, and the returning of three pairs of footsteps tells me Daryl has shown up too.

"What? What happened?" his Georgian-accented voice demands.

"Morning sickness. She doesn't have anything to get rid of," Carol explains.

His arms surround me, pulling me into a tight embrace just as the heaving stops. I whimper and shut my eyes, leaning against him. I can just tell his eyes are watching me whilst the others are looking at both me and each other.

"No water?" Rick asks.

"The creek's dried up," Sasha says, deadpan.

"Then we've got to keep moving. Everyone back into the van."

We oblige. Glenn hands me one of our last water bottles, and Daryl takes it before I can refuse.

"You gotta drink somethin'," he murmurs.

I sigh and take a tiny gulp from the lukewarm plastic bottle. He holds me close and rubs my arm slowly as the car rolls down the road.

Daryl's POV

Soon enough, the car runs out of gas. We start walking, ignoring the growing amount of walkers behind us. Hope keeps stumbling, yet still refuses to let me carry her.

I keep wondering whether I should've just left my thoughts about her innocence to myself. I'm not saying I lied, just that I think I should've kept it locked away. No doubt she thinks that I find her weak. That's not true either. She's incredibly strong, but despite that, I think about Beth every time I see her.

"There's still good people, Daryl."

"I don't think the good ones survive."

My heart clenches. They're so similar in many ways, save for that Hope's a lot older than she...was. They both sang, they were both religious, they both stayed strong when the going got tough...and the world hardened them just the same. Beth wasn't weak, but she got killed nonetheless.

It hurt to lose her; hurt like when Andrea shot me back at the farm, only multiplied by ten.

If the same thing happens to Hope, I know I won't be able to go on. I can't lose her. She and Beth were and are like little candles of light and hopefulness in this fucked up world, and now that one of them has been snuffed out, it's even more important the other one keep burning.

The baby she's carrying only makes that more true. What shows more hope for the world than someone having a baby?

That's yet another thing I can't stop thinking about; the baby, my baby, our baby...

Hope needs food, water, and a place to rest her head at night. This water and food shortage is scaring me, especially after her little incident this morning. I don't know shit about babies and pregnancy, but even I can tell that it isn't good.

Hope trips, and I catch her immediately. She lets out a long breath, trying to put one foot in front of the other.

"Angel, please let me carry you," I plead softly.

"I can walk," she responds, wincing.

"Sure you can. Doesn't mean I'll let you."

She sighs, and I take that as the "all good" sign. I scoop her into my arms and she rests her head on my shoulder. Her face is drawn and tired, yet her brown eyes still manage to twinkle. She looks up at me with such adoration, and I still don't know how the hell I deserve someone who looks at me like that.

Then again, that's what I wanted when I was little, ever since that little girl saw my house burning down on the day my momma died. She was only five or six, but she still seemed so kind.

Almost exactly like Hope.

"Daryl? Please talk to me," she murmurs.

My face settles into a neutral position. "Ain't nothin' to talk about."

"Yes there is," she insists. "You're shutting down. You're going back to the old Daryl state of mind."

I hold back a cuss word. She can read me like a book. It's like she knows that I've wanted to disappear back into those woods since we lost Beth and Ty.

But I've stayed. For her, for our child.

"Get some sleep. You need it."

"Promise you'll talk later?"

"Promise."

She kisses my jaw, shutting her eyes. I shift her weight a little in my arms, my heart aching at how easy it is to carry her. She shouldn't be this light...but that's unavoidable.

"Daryl?" Rick asks.

I glance over at him, trying to keep my face straight.

"How is she?" He glances at Hope.

"Exhausted, hungry, thirsty..." I mumble.

He sighs, his gaze travelling to the sky briefly. I turn, looking at the walker herd behind us.

"We aren't at our strongest," Rick says. "We'll get them when it's best; high ground, something like that. They're not going anywhere."

I remain silent. I know he doesn't want to talk about walkers, and I wait for him to cut to the chase.

"It's been three weeks since Atlanta. I know you lost something back there. We all did." He looks to me again, and I try to hide behind my shaggy mop of hair. "We need to keep our heads. You need to be there for your baby. Try to remember what's important."

We both look at Hope again, and I let out a long breath. He's right, of course.

Little Ass-Kicker squirms in his grip, and I look their way.

"She's hungry too," I mention.

He sighs and shifts her a little. "She's ok. She's gonna be ok."

"We need to find water, food."

"We'll find something along the way." He looks to the sky. "It should rain soon."

"Yeah." I shift my grip on Hope slightly.

Hope's POV

As soon as I wake up, Daryl heads off into the woods. I bite my lip, wishing I could do something. He's still grieving, I know that, but the last thing I want is for him to grow cold and indifferent.

He completely avoided my comment about his old state of mind. He's becoming like that again, and I've noticed. He doesn't want to be around anyone, even me. He just wants to be alone.

"I can go check on him, if you want," Carol offers.

I look over at her, and she smiles weakly. I'm glad we've resolved our conflicts between us. Daryl told me that she loves him the way she would love a son, and I'm honestly fine with that. I can't be the only one who cares about him, after all.

"Yeah. Maybe he'll open up a bit more to you," I say.

"Are you two ok?"

"He's grieving, but more so than before. The whole thing is...taking its toll on him." I sigh, feeling my eyes burn with imaginary tears. "Talking to someone as friends may help."

"I'll see what I can do." She smiles and heads down the path he only recently took.

My stomach growls, and I touch it lightly. My baby is hungry too, and I'm supposed to be feeding the both of us. My body works on autopilot. One foot in front of the other. Left foot, right foot, repeat.

I wish Daryl would just talk to me, but he isn't one for pouring out his feelings. I keep looking to the trees, hoping he'll come back any moment. Carol returns, and she gives me a reassuring smile. I thank her softly.

We stop at a bridge to fight off the group of walkers behind us. We shove most of them off the side into the ravine, but then Sasha decides to break formation. We try to keep it controlled, but it ends up turning into a full on battle. At that point, I stop and lean against the railing, not wanting to tire myself.

A walker grabs Rick's arm, and just as its about to bite, Daryl emerges from the woods. He grabs it and tears part of its head off as he tosses it to the side.

Michonne slices the last walker in half and spins to face Sasha, who lays panting on the ground.

"I told you to stop," she snaps.

Sasha doesn't respond, only gets up and gives her a cold glare before storming away. Daryl moves to my side and takes my hand as we keep moving.

Michonne and Sasha remain on edge as we continue our journey, but we all know why. Sasha is going into the same state of mind that Rick and Tyreese went into after they lost their loved ones.

Even so, we don't lose anyone else, and the road keeps stretching out before us; a never ending reminder of our trek and where it may lead. Daryl carries me again, despite my insisting to worry about himself. I'm just as exhausted as everyone else and they're walking.

Rick asks me how I'm doing every now and then, and I reply, "Fine."

The road keeps going.

"Hey dad. Look," Carl says.

We all look at a congregation of cars on the road ahead, interested.

"I'm gonna go out in the woods, then circle back," Daryl says.

"I'll come with you," I volunteer as he sets me down.

"Nah. Just me."

Everyone disperses to search the cars for anything to eat or drink. I sigh and place a hand on my forehead, only hoping it can't get any worse.

----------

We reach a patch of shade as the sun moves across the sky, and I listen as the others talk about Abraham's drinking. I look to the ginger haired man as he guzzles down a bottle of booze.

That isn't gonna help, but I bet he knows that.

I think of the clouds that have started to gather in the sky. I hope it rains, not only for the water. I wouldn't mind having a shower of any kind. I feel like a snake that needs to shed its skin, or in my case, the blood and sweat.

It isn't long before Daryl returns again. The snapping of the branches makes Rick's hand snap to his knife, but once he sees who it is he relaxes.

We wait, our stomachs growling louder than the pitiful attempts at conversation.

Suddenly, there's barking. Four scrawny mutts emerge from the woods, barking and growling. I can see two Dobermans and a German Shepherd, maybe the fourth is a border collie.

Daryl throws his arms out before me, using his body as a shield. My heart aches as I stare at the mutts, only able to think of Augustus; my loyal friend.

They snap and growl, their barks echoing in the humid air. Before anyone can react, a shot rings out. One dog whimpers and falls limp, and three more shots go off as the others go down. Sasha remains straight faced as she lowers her gun, and I let out a squeak.

Augustus.

Daryl turns around, looking at me worriedly. Tears leak from my eyes and stream down my face, and I'm powerless to stop it.

"Hey hey hey...ssh..." he murmurs, hugging me close. "Those weren't Gus. It's ok."

I hide my face in his chest, refusing to watch what I know will happen next.