[ iii. the same side ]

june 19th, 2012

➸➸➸

THE PUTRID STENCH OF burning flesh assaulted Astrid Lancaster's senses later that afternoon, and she fought to suppress a rising wave of nausea. In an empty courtyard outside Cell Block A, she stood flanked by Rick, Daryl, and Tyreese, their gazes locked on two charred remains. These were not mere corpses. They were blackened husks— their hair and clothing consumed by the flames. The identity of these unfortunate souls was obliterated, lost in the inferno.

An anxious lump formed in Astrid's throat as she turned to Tyreese, who choked back tears. "Who were they?" She asked.

It took a painfully long moment for Tyreese to find his voice. "K-Karen and David," He finally revealed, and Astrid's gasp was as much a cry of anguish as it was a response. Karen had been Tyreese's beloved partner, and Astrid, too, had shared a deep friendship with the woman. How could this have happened? Karen and David had been isolated in quarantine, alone within the prison walls. Who could do such an unimaginable thing?

Rick, his disbelief mirroring Astrid's, broke the silence. "You found them like this?" He questioned.

Tyreese turned toward them, his eyes haunted. "I came to see Karen," He recounted with agonizing slowness. "And I saw the blood on the floor." His trembling finger pointed to a trail of crimson that wove a nightmarish path from Karen and David's inner quarters to this very courtyard. "Then I smelled them," He added, his voice barely more than a mournful whisper.

Astrid's eyes were drawn to a pair of red gasoline tanks nestled in a shadowy corner of the small courtyard. She turned back to the burnt bodies. "There's still smoke coming off of them," She observed. "This happened recently."

Daryl, his thoughts etched on his furrowed brow, chewed on his thumbnail. "She's right." He nodded. "Must've happened an hour or so ago."

Tyreese's rage simmered. It was clear he cared not for the precise timing of their demise but rather the malevolent force responsible for their suffering. "Somebody dragged them out here and set them on fire," He bristled. "They killed them and set them on fire!" The silence that followed was heavy, pregnant with despair and fury, until Tyreese turned his piercing gaze towards Rick, invading the man's personal space. With Daryl and Astrid closely shadowing him, they braced for any impending confrontation. "You're a cop," Tyreese said, cold and stern. "You find out who did this, and you bring them to me. You understand? You bring them to me!"

"Tyreese," Astrid cautioned, her hands hovering over him.

Daryl moved forward to grasp the man's muscled arm, attempting to mediate. "We'll find out who—" He began, but Tyreese's explosive anger disrupted his words, shaking off the touch.

Astrid reached out to pull her hunter away. Tyreese remained undeterred, closing in on Rick who had yet to respond. "I need to say it again?"

Finally, Rick's head shook in resignation. "No," He answered. His outstretched hand attempted to bridge the dark chasm that had consumed the man. But Tyreese eluded Rick's touch, stepping out of his grasp as he exhaled a world-weary sigh. "I know what you're feeling," The former sheriff reassured in a hushed tone. "I've been there. You saw me there. It's dangerous."

"Karen didn't deserve this!" Tyreese snapped. "David didn't deserve it! Nobody does!"

Daryl huffed in frustration and took a measured step forward once more, his fingers gripping Tyreese's arm again. "All right, man, let's—"

Tyreese's desperation suddenly flared outward. A whirlwind of emotions propelled him into action. He spun towards Daryl, and his large hands went around the hunter's throat, shoving him forcefully against the wall. "Man, I ain't going nowhere until I find out who did this!" He roared.

Astrid and Rick instinctively moved towards the escalating confrontation, but Daryl held his hand up, a silent plea for them to stay back. Astrid's heart pounded in her chest, focus locked on the struggle before her. While she knew Daryl possessed immense strength, Tyreese's imposing stature loomed over him.

Rick grabbed onto Astrid's shoulder and attempted to pull her back, but she stood her ground, her hand poised firmly on her weapon, ready for whatever calamity might unfold.

Tyreese's ragged breaths echoed through the courtyard as he continued to press Daryl against the concrete wall. The hunter's measured response defied the chaos that surrounded him. He drew a calming breath, locking eyes with Tyreese as he spoke. "We're on the same side, man," He reminded, unexpectedly gentle.

Tyreese's grip on Daryl's shirt began to loosen, the frenetic energy slowly dissipating, but he had not yet fully released his captive. Astrid pulled free from Rick's grasp, fully aware that mere words would not suffice to pry Daryl from Tyreese's grip. She stepped closer, her movements cautious, and her palm found a tense shoulder under her touch. "Ty, let him go," She implored softly. "We're going to figure this out. We can't turn on each other."

Rick soon rejoined her side. "We've all lost someone," He added in understanding. "We know what you're going through, but you've got to calm down—"

Tyreese violently shoved Daryl aside and pivoted to confront Astrid and Rick directly. "You need to step the hell back!" He growled, his fury lashing out indiscriminately now. Astrid, positioned between Rick and the raging man, quickly found herself caught in the crossfire.

Tyreese's iron grip clamped onto Astrid's shoulders, and she elicited a sharp gasp of pain. In an instant, he cast the Lancaster woman aside, sending her sprawling to the gasoline-soaked ground. Her fall was short-lived, however, as strong hands slipped beneath her arms, hoisting her back to her feet, courtesy of Daryl. He positioned himself protectively in front of her, his hands firmly on her waist. "Stay here," He ordered.

"Like hell," Astrid muttered defiantly, though Daryl's response was an inscrutable scoff as they returned to the fight at hand, where Rick and Tyreese remained locked in a scorching standoff.

Rick was firm as he sought to pull Tyreese back from the edge. "She wouldn't want you like this," He reminded him.

The mention of Karen's name proved the ultimate catalyst for Tyreese Williams' unraveling. With a guttural roar, he unleashed an assault that no one could stop. Tyreese's fist connected with Rick's unsuspecting face, sending him sprawling to his knees.

A startled cry escaped Astrid's lips. "No!" She screamed. "Stop!"

Rick's gaze flicked upward briefly, meeting Tyreese's furious eyes from his vulnerable position on the ground. But the confrontation only escalated as the latter man delivered another punishing blow, toppling Rick, with finality, to the asphalt. Daryl immediately launched forward, his arms enveloping Tyreese's broad shoulders, and wrenched him away from the fallen man.

Astrid rushed to Rick's side, her attention fixing on the fresh cut above his left eye. "Are you okay?" She demanded as she gently brushed damp, sweat-soaked curls away from Rick's forehead. He responded with a subdued grunt, and Astrid wrapped an arm securely around his torso. "Come on," She murmured softly, assisting him in regaining his footing. "Take it easy, I'll help you."

Rick staggered to his feet, a hand momentarily rising to assess the damage to his head before recoiling in disgust. Astrid remained steadfastly by his side as she turned to witness Daryl successfully separating Tyreese from the exchange. "That's enough," Her hunter growled.

The ceasefire lasted only seconds. Rick, now consumed by his own tempest of emotions, released a primal snarl. Before Astrid could intervene, he lashed forward violently. His own clenched fist found its target as he launched a punch at Tyreese, sending him sprawling to the harsh ground. In the unforgiving courtyard, roles had reversed. Rick loomed over Tyreese, his fists a relentless barrage as he delivered blow after punishing blow.

"Stop it!" Astrid cried, a desperate plea for sanity amidst the madness.

The gut-wrenching sound of flesh meeting flesh twisted Astrid's stomach into agonizing knots, and she was forced to avert her eyes. Elsewhere, Daryl quickly stormed forward again to pull Rick back into his arms in a valiant attempt to save him from the clutches of violence. But Rick would not allow himself to be stopped and grappled fiercely against his right-hand man. "Let go of me!" His voice thundered, punctuating each blow.

"No!" Daryl shouted.

Astrid took a fearful step forward, her voice quivering. "Rick," She pleaded.

"Let go of me!" Rick's enraged bellow shook the very foundations of reason, his fury surging higher as he readied for another assault on the fading Tyreese. He hauled his arm back once more. Yet, this time, Daryl managed to thwart the impending hit, finally dragging Rick away from the precipice of further brutality.

Astrid's hands instinctively shot up to cover her gaping mouth as she bore witness to the harrowing scene unfolding before her. Her gaze then fell upon a suffering Tyreese, his beaten form contorted as he curled into a fetal position. He clung to an injured arm, his big body racked with heart-wrenching sobs as he grieved the loss of Karen. His face was now marred with blood and a nasty bruise had already begun to form around his eye.

Daryl, having been shoved away by Rick, staggered backward, his breathing ragged in the heated stillness. Astrid rushed to his side and assessed him for injuries. She was relieved to find none on her hunter. She then glanced across the courtyard to find Rick standing alone, looking at his blood-stained knuckles in a state of shock and remorse.

She had never before witnessed Rick in such a brutal, unhinged state. It was a vast difference from the man she had known. It was as if the long months of suffering and confinement within his own mind had ultimately fractured his sanity, and Astrid grappled with the profound sense of unease that accompanied this revelation. Rick Grimes had snapped.

The Lancaster woman's throat tightened and her eyes dropped to the ground. Around her, the only sounds were the labored breaths of those present and the haunting sizzle of the final remnants that once embodied the lives of Karen and David.

➸➸➸

THE FOLLOWING DAY, ASTRID found herself ensconced in the sanctum of her bed, enveloped by a silence that was almost deafening. She was acutely aware that it was the middle of the afternoon, yet she no longer cared. Exhaustion hung heavy on her shoulders due to recent events. First, the savage attack in D block, followed by the digging of nearly two dozen graves, and now the crushing revelation that someone had brutally murdered Karen and David. Amidst this turmoil, Tyreese, who was hanging by a thread, prowled among them, driven by a dangerous pursuit of the killer.

With a weary shake of her head, Astrid attempted to expel those stressful thoughts. Her hand wandered aimlessly over her stomach, retracing the contours of her conversation with Daryl from days ago. She had shattered his hopes, revealing that she was not carrying their child, a realization that left both of them disheartened—even if they would not talk about it. Now, Astrid wished simply to banish the thought of parenthood entirely from her mind. It would do her no good to think about that kind of life now. She allowed her hand to drop back down to the empty side of her bed and eyed the blank space where a body should have laid. She wanted her hunter there beside her.

As if responding to her unspoken longing, a husky and familiar voice punctured the silence. "You awake?"

Astrid turned slowly to find Daryl framed in the doorway, his eyes fixed upon her with an intensity that seemingly matched her own desires. He entered their shared small cell and settled on the edge of the bed, his hand resting on her waist.

"I need you for somethin'," He murmured.

Astrid propped herself up on one elbow. "What is it?" She asked tiredly.

"You know how Sasha's sick?" Daryl questioned. His prompting was a grim acknowledgment of the relentless march of the disease that had plagued their community. Turns out, Dr. Caleb Subramanian's earlier prognosis had woefully underestimated the outbreak's full scope. In only a day, the prison now teetered on the precipice of an epidemic, with at least a dozen individuals confined to the isolation of A Block. Meanwhile, others, including Carl, Beth, and Judith—yet untouched by the contagion—had been relocated to the administration corridors of the prison, where they could be safe from infection. Safe but isolated, too. Astrid was not sure how she felt about that.

Still, she nodded, her concern deepening. "What about her?"

"We're havin' another council meeting," Daryl revealed, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on her exposed skin. "With Sasha gone, we're a member short. I was hopin' you'd step in for her. And," he added, "an extra pair of capable, medical hands wouldn't hurt."

Astrid gave him a look. "I don't do meetings," She said.

Daryl let out a resigned sigh. "Why're you such a stubborn ass?" He muttered, a blend of exasperation and affection lacing his words.

Her lips curled into a knowing smirk, a glimmer of mischief dancing in her expression. "Because I love you," She whispered, her fingers slipping into his as she gently squeezed his hand.

Daryl rolled his eyes, though his grip on her hand remained strong. "I love you, too," He replied, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability as he braced himself for what he was about to request. He drew in a deep breath. "Will you please come to the meeting, babe?"

Astrid raised an eyebrow. "Did Daryl Dixon just say please?" She teased. Daryl shot her a mock glare, but before she could utter another word, he leaned forward, sprawling onto her. She groaned in protest. "Really?" She asked. "This isn't—"

Her hunter cut her off as his lips met hers, igniting a passionate spark that left them both breathless. Her arms automatically wound around his neck, her fingers tangled in his hair, while Daryl's hands rested possessively on her hips. For a single moment, the world outside ceased to exist. Then, reluctantly, the kiss broke, leaving them both panting. "This doesn't change anything," Astrid reminded Daryl, her eyes locking onto his. "I'm not going to the meeting."

Daryl clicked his tongue and sent her a confident smirk. "Too bad," He retorted. He climbed off the bed, and his hands found Astrid's wrists, pulling her up with him. Without affording her the opportunity to even put on shoes, he began tugging her away from the cell.

Naturally, Astrid still resisted. "Daryl," She complained. "I don't want to go."

Daryl only chuckled. "Didn't realize I was talkin' to a toddler," He snickered.

"Screw you," Astrid muttered playfully as he guided her from the cell block, leading her towards the library where all meetings were convened. As they traversed the deserted hallways, they eventually entered the designated room. Inside, Hershel, Glenn, Carol, and Michonne were already assembled. Every seat at the table was occupied except for Michonne's, who stood in a doorway across the library's opposing exit, maintaining a cautious distance. She had yet to be properly exposed to the sickness, unlike the rest of them.

Astrid swallowed uneasily, acutely aware of her inexperience in this unfamiliar territory. Daryl, ever her protector, held out a chair for her, and she gratefully took it. He settled beside her, leaning forward with his arms resting on the back of her chair. Michonne cast a perplexed glance at Astrid's sock-clad feet, and the Lancaster woman offered her a bashful smile before Hershel cleared his throat, marking the commencement of the meeting.

"It's spread," He announced. "Almost everyone who survived the attack in Cell Block D has gotten it. Sasha . . . Caleb . . . And now others."

Astrid's curiosity cut through the ominous atmosphere like a blade. "So, what do we do?" She asked. She felt Daryl's eyes on her, his admiration evident as he watched her dive headlong into the discussion.

"First things first," Hershel addressed. "Cell Block A is isolation. We keep the sick people there, as we attempted with Karen and David."

Attempted. As in, they were isolated—only to be killed for it. That could not simply be ignored. "There's a killer living with us," Astrid noted. "How do we keep what happened to Karen and David from happening to others in there?"

Carol stepped forward with a practical suggestion. "We'll ask Rick to look into it," She proposed. "We can try to create a timeline for who's where and when they're there. But what are we going to do to stop this? How do we keep this sickness from spreading?"

"There is no stopping it," Hershel confessed softly. "You get it, you have to go through it."

"But it just kills you?" Michonne questioned.

Astrid shook her head. "The illness doesn't," She clarified. "The symptoms do. If we're going to stand a fighting chance against this thing, we need medicine. We need antibiotics."

Daryl's bitter admission hung heavily in the air. "We've been through every pharmacy nearby and then some."

"Then we need to go farther out," Astrid protested. "We have the cars and enough fuel. We can risk the trip if it means saving lives."

"Astrid's right," Hershel concurred. "We're going to have to go farther out. There's a veterinary college at West Peachtree Tech. It's a place people may not have thought to raid for medication. The drugs for animals there are precisely what we need."

Daryl bit his lip, likely contemplating the formidable challenge ahead. "That's fifty miles. Too big a risk before, but it ain't now," He decided, rising from his chair. He scooped up his crossbow that lay on a nearby table. "I'm goin' to take a group out. Best not waste any more time."

"I'm in," Astrid volunteered, rising to her feet beside her hunter. He acknowledged her commitment with a nod, a rare display of agreement—without protest for her safety first.

Michonne stepped forward also, wholeheartedly embracing the mission. "Me, too," She declared.

Hershel's worriedness settled on Michonne. "You haven't been exposed," He pointed out. "Daryl and Astrid have. If you get in a car with them—"

Michonne responded with a playful tease, dispelling the tension in the room. "Daryl's already given me fleas," She quipped, earning a scoff from Daryl himself.

The Greene patriarch chuckled gently. "Well, I can lead the way," He eventually said. "I know where everything's kept."

Silence suddenly enveloped the room at Hershel's proclamation. Daryl shifted uneasily on his feet, stealing a glance at Astrid before refocusing on the elder man, who regarded them with an air of suspicion now. The hunter swallowed hard. "When we're out there, it's always the same," He insisted. "Sooner or later, we run."

Hershel struggled to find words, his gaze falling to his disabled leg. But he rallied swiftly before the room could dwell on his discomfort. "I—I can draw you a map," He offered.

The Lancaster woman acknowledged Hershel's kind offer with a nod. Although she was already familiar with the route to the college, she chose not to quash his spirits by declining his sole opportunity to contribute. Instead, she turned to Daryl, and he led her away from the library, signifying the conclusion of the meeting.

They moved through the hallway quietly. Daryl eventually broke the silence, his voice tinged with concern as he looked down at Astrid. "You know, you don't have to go on the run if you don't want to," He reminded her. "Michonne and I can handle it, and this is goin' to be a long trip."

Astrid met his stare. "Why wouldn't I want to go?" She countered. "I haven't been outside those fences in forever. Besides, you and Michonne need me," She teased coyly. "Because you wouldn't even know what to look for."

Daryl scoffed at her playful retort. "Alright, smartass," He grumbled, a hint of amusement in his tone as they entered their cell block. "Don't get all cocky on me."

Astrid laughed, taking the lead as she walked ahead of her hunter, their banter lightening the mood. However, the joy in her heart was cruelly short-lived. Her body suddenly convulsed with an overwhelming wave of discomfort, a tumultuous knot coiling within her like a vengeful serpent. Despite Daryl's sharp calls echoing from behind, Astrid was compelled to move swiftly, her steps quickening as she urgently made her way to their cell.

Barely reaching the toilet in time, she was overtaken by a violent upheaval, her stomach in revolt as she emptied its churning contents. Agonizing coughs wracked her body, forcing her to lean heavily against the cold, unfeeling metal. Bitterness clung to her tongue, and she retrieved a nearby rag, wiping away the remnants of her ordeal.

Yet, as Astrid drew the rag away from her lips, it was not only the acrid taste that brought tears to her eyes.

Then she realized that someone was calling her name. "Astrid?" Daryl's voice softly reached her ears from somewhere behind her. "Babe?"

Astrid tensed at the sound of footsteps, the torment etched into her already-paling features, and she whispered hoarsely, "Stay back." Her hunter's guarded expression filled with confusion as he observed her. She held up the little white rag, its once-clean surface now marred with the stain of her own blood.

"I have it."

~~~~~~~~~~