I brush aside the curtain as I walk into my office, throwing my mini notebook down next to the larger one. I sit down heavily in my chair, letting my head fall back. If I can keep holding it together, even if it's just until the end of the day, that would be great. I could use a win, even if it's a small one.

I run my hands down my face, rubbing my eyes, then pulling the skin as I move to my temples. I sit up, dragging the chair closer to the table, and look at my notebook. Another deep breath in, then out, and I flip both open.

Zack's name is the only one on yesterday's slot. For today, twelve more. We hadn't even gotten to putting up a cross for Zack, and now...

I touch the pen to the page only to stop, staring at my hand as it trembles. I squint, hard, pressing my lips into a thin line as I try to force it to stop. Like it no longer belongs to me, it continues to shake.

Things get blurry.

I let out a weak, choked sob as I sag forward. I keep picturing cell block D, the walkers with the faces of my community members, people I've eaten with, laughed with, brought into the fold and welcomed with open arms. I keep seeing poor, sweet little Eryn, so pale and so scared, and I hear her mother's sobs as she realized that she would bury both her children in one day.

I bury my face in my arms and let the tears flow.

I feel a rush of air as my curtain moves, then a gentle hand on my arm.

"Hope," Daryl's voice, soft and raspy with concern. "Angel face, hey, look at me."

I let out a wet cough, forcing a breath into my lungs even as he turns me to him. He's half-kneeling at my side, hand on my arm, and my lips tremble as I purse them again.

"Eryn..." I say. "I...I was talking to her yes...yesterday. Carol's reading them Tom S-Sawyer and...and she was so excited to..." I gulp in more air and, in exchange, more tears flow out. "To finish it." I squeeze my eyes shut, hunching forward. "And n-now she's dead, and so's Owen, and Chloe, and e-everyone, and...and I thought I could stay strong and then, and then...those damn pigs—"

Babies. Baby animals, but babies. Sacrificed.

He pulls me into his arms and I sag off the chair, letting him bring me down to the floor as I cry into his shoulder. He hushes me, one hand cradling my head as his other arm surrounds me.

"It's...it's not fair," I weep. "It's just not fair!"

"I know. I know it ain't."

I wrap my arms around his neck, keeping my eyes closed, just trying to focus on the good—the good that Daryl is alive, that he's warm and familiar and strong, that we didn't lose any fences today, and...I don't know, God's brought some little lost sheep back home, and they don't have to be scared anymore.

It feels disingenuous, even in my head. The comfort of heaven doesn't soothe the pain of loss much at all.

"Deep breaths," Daryl murmurs. I take one, let it out, and he nods as he strokes my hair. "Good. You're...you're okay, Hope."

No, I'm not. I'm so far from okay.

Daryl shifts, helping me back to my feet. I sniffle, dragging the heel of my hand over my cheek, and he thumbs away the tears on the other.

"You ain't gotta fill out that thing," he insists.

"I have to make sure no one gets missed," I retort weakly. "Gotta...gotta make sure they all get a marker."

"Let someone else handle it. You ain't gotta do everything."

My head droops, my eyes itchy with sorrow. I feel slightly better, like some of the weight's been lifted after letting out the tears, but only barely. I can keep helping. I'm not the only one saddened by this, and I'm definitely not suffering the most from the losses today.

"Hope? I've gotta—"

Once again, the curtain opens, and there's Tyreese. Daryl and I turn to him and my eyes widen. He's breathing hard, eyes wide, trembling. His eyes dart between the two of us.

"Daryl," he says. "I...I was looking for you too." He looks over his shoulder. "You gotta get Rick and get to the Tombs, now. It's Karen and David."

The seriousness in his tone, overpowering the tremors, the disbelief, sends ice through my veins.

Daryl's hand finds mine, squeezing, and he nods. "I'll find him. We'll meet you."

Tyreese nods and then he's gone again. I grip Daryl's hand like he's a lifeline and our eyes meet. It's like I can read his thoughts, just for a second. He's going to suggest I stay, that I let him and Rick handle it, but I don't want to. I'm afraid the second I let myself be alone, I'll just fall apart again, and I can't let myself. I have to throw it off, buck up, and push forward.

I move from the cell, dragging Daryl behind me. "Rick was by the pig pens, last I saw," I say. "Let's hurry."

"Hope—"

"Don't. Please."

----------

I should've listened to Daryl, but saying that now would be admitting I was wrong, and I really, really don't want to have to do that right now. Besides, this is shaping up to need an HR rep.

The smell hits us before we even reach the courtyard, burnt, rotting meat that hits me so violently that I gag. Daryl's only betrayal of his feelings is how his nose wrinkles, a brief twitch. Two bodies lay in the courtyard outside the Tombs, isolated from view to everywhere else in the prison, the perfect place to commit a crime. More nausea churns my gut.

The bodies are unrecognizable with charred skin and clothes leaving them looking like vaguely human charcoal lumps. Karen's silver bracelet clings to her blackened wrist as her only identifier.

Rick stares at the bodies, hands on his hips, as he stands next to Tyreese. Tyreese is still heaving, quivering. Carol, who caught us on our way to find Rick, opted to join us in finding out what's going on. Now, she stands by the entrance into the Tombs, hand over her mouth, silent.

"You found them like this?" Rick asks.

Tyreese gives Rick a brief look, then looks back at the bodies. "I came to see Karen..." he says, voice just above a whisper. He gestures to the trail of blood leading into the Tombs. It's a direct trail to the bodies, leading from the bloodied pillows in their cell to out here. "I saw the blood on the floor. Then I smelled them." His shoulders hunched. "Somebody dragged them out here and set them on fire!" he shouts. "They killed them and set them on fire!"

No one says anything, then Tyreese turns and takes two powerful, rageful steps towards Rick. Daryl immediately moves forward, hand out, ready to stop him, but Tyreese stops first.

"You're a cop," he utters, staring Rick in the eye. "You find out who did this and you bring 'em to to me! You understand? You bring 'em to me!"

Daryl reaches for him. "We'll find out who—"

Tyreese pushes his hand away, rough enough that both Carol and I do a half-start toward them. Daryl stays put but doesn't touch him again. Tyreese glares at Rick.

"I need to say it again?"

"No. No," Rick insists, voice calm as he shakes his head. "I know what you're feeling. I've been there. You saw me there. It's dangerous—"

"Karen didn't deserve this! David didn't deserve it!"

"No," Rick agrees as Tyreese stares at the bodies again.

"Nobody does!"

"Alright, man, let's—" Daryl starts, grabbing Tyreese's shoulder.

Tyreese whirls around like an enraged bull and, in a split second, has Daryl's vest bunched in his fists. "Man, I ain't going nowhere—" He slams Daryl against the wall and Daryl winces.

"Tyreese, stop!" I shout, starting forward.

"—til I find out who did this!"

Daryl throws his hand out over Tyreese's shoulder, stopping Rick, mine, and Carol's advances with just a motion. He nods, startlingly calm even with Tyreese pinning him down, almost lifting him off the ground with how hard he's gripping his clothes. Tyreese heaves, breaths fast, muscles bunched and tense, and Daryl's eyes slide from us to him.

"We're on the same side, man," he says.

Tyreese's grip tightens.

"Hey, look," Rick says.

He keeps his voice low, like he's talking someone off a ledge, creeping closer with his hand out and ready. Carol lingers right behind him and I'm off to the side, offset but between Rick and Tyreese.

"I know what you're going through. We've all lost someone. We know what you're going through but you've...you've got to calm down."

Rule one of de-escalation, never say the "c" word. It usually has the opposite effect.

Tyreese whirls around, shoving Rick hard and sending him stumbling back. "You need to step the hell back!"

"No!" Carol shouts.

I put my arm out, across Rick's chest, halfway between him and Tyreese. Carol's on the other side, hands out, eyes wide.

"Hope, get back!" Daryl snaps.

"Tyreese, breathe," I say, but it's like he can't even see me, he's so focused on Rick. "Breathe—"

Rick exhales. "She wouldn't want you being like this—" he starts.

Tyreese roars and surges forward. In one brutal motion, I'm swept aside, hitting the ground, and Rick follows shortly after as Tyreese hits him with a right hook.

"STOP!" Carol screams, rushing to Rick's side as he starts to get up. "Stop!"

I push myself up, my elbow stinging where it hit the concrete, and Tyreese punches Rick again. Spit and blood spray across the pavement and Daryl lunges, throwing his arms around Tyreese from behind and hauling him back.

"That's enough!" he snaps as Tyreese huffs like an enraged bull.

Rick hacks out another wad of blood and saliva. Carol rests her hand on his back and I squat next to him, reaching out to try and turn his face towards me. Tyreese split his cheek open, blood trickling from the ridge of his brow down the side of his eye.

"Rick, hey, look at me," I say, fingertips lightly touching his jaw. He ignores me as he stumbles to his feet, wobbling for just a second. "Rick—"

He pushes away from both Carol and my well-meaning hands, taking a powerful step before clocking Tyreese across the jaw. Carol gasps, hands covering her mouth.

"Rick!" I shout even as Tyreese goes down like a sack of bricks, Daryl stumbling away from the momentum as his grip loosens. "RICK!"

He winds up and kicks Tyreese in the kidney, sending him rolling with a heavy grunt of pain, and then he's wailing on him, punching again and again.

"Rick, stop!" Daryl shouts.

I move towards them but Daryl's already there, pushing me back before grabbing Rick's arm on the backswing.

"Rick!"

"Let go of me!" Rick screams.

"No! NO!!

Daryl gets his arm around Rick's neck, straining with everything he has to pull him away from Tyreese. Rick flails, fighting and screaming like a madman.

"LET GO OF ME!"

"NO!"

He shoves Daryl and I'm already there next to Tyreese. I know I'm not strong enough to fight off either of them but damn it, I'll be a meat shield if it means they hesitate for even a second.

Rick heaves, looking between me, Tyreese, and his bloody knuckles in a daze. Tyreese lets out a weak sob before he breaks down, weeping onto the pavement.

"Daryl," I say, meeting his eyes. "Take Rick to Hershel, please."

Daryl nods. He reaches out to Rick slowly, like he's waiting to see if he'll swing at him too, but his hand makes contact with Rick's arm with little more than a brief startle.

"Come on, man," he murmurs.

He tugs him away, leading him back into the Tombs, back to the main part of the prison. I look up at Carol, still frozen with her hands over her mouth.

"Do you know where Dr. S is?" I ask.

She lets her arms fall to her sides. "He's in A block. Getting it ready."

He's probably got his hands full. I nod, looking back to Tyreese and resting my hand on his shoulder. He still trembles, tears mixing with the blood seeping from his nose and split lip.

"Tyreese, can you stand?" I ask.

He cries Karen's name, repeating it over and over again. Again, I look at Carol, helpless but refusing to let that stop me.

"I'll take care of him," I say. "Go after Rick and Daryl, please. And...keep an eye out." We've still got Karen and David's murderer around and, though I want to believe they won't strike again or go full serial, I won't take the risk. "Okay?"

"Of course," she breathes, then disappears back inside.

I take a deep breath in through my mouth and sit, rubbing Tyreese's shoulder, letting him grieve until he's ready to move again. It's only a few minutes after everyone has left that he gets up. He wipes his still-bleeding nose and looks at the charred bodies again. I stand.

"Come on, we'll go to my office," I say. "Get you checked out."

He doesn't look at me. "Gotta bury them."

I nod. "We will, as soon as we make sure you're okay." I can already see swelling around his left eye.

He shakes his head. "No."

"Tyreese—"

"Not until they're in the ground."

He turns and heads off into the Tombs, footsteps heavy with anger, and I tell myself to just shut up and leave it be. He doesn't need to hear my meaningless platitudes and in all honesty, I can understand his rage. I think I'd want to do more than just punch something if someone murdered Daryl.

Just the thought makes my throat get all tight.

I sigh and follow him. I'll let Hershel know that I tried.

----------

"We'll need to keep an eye on him," Hershel says once I've recounted the tale to him. He's still cleaning up his gauze and alcohol pads from helping Rick with his hand. He looks up at me, lips pursed. "You did your best."

"Rick kicked him pretty hard. I'm worried about internal bleeding," I say.

He nods, pushing himself to his feet. "I'll ask Bob to watch him," he says. After a pause, he adds, "I've called another council meeting for tomorrow morning. I've already asked Michonne to join us. You should be there too."

I've gone to a few meetings, mostly when it involved prison infrastructure that needed extra planning and community-wide teamwork. I get the feeling this meeting will be much the same.

I nod. Tomorrow morning seems far away and all I can hope for is that, somehow, we'll get lucky.