Disclaimer: I don't own anything from The Walking Dead

Author's Note: Takes place in Season 4. What if Daryl had gone out after Carol when he learned Rick had sent her away?

Finding My Way Home

Chapter 1

"Daryl! Get back here!" Rick's voice was thick with authority, but Daryl didn't give a shit. He stalked toward the gates, hollering at one of the new guys—he hadn't bothered to learn his name—to open the gate. "God damn it!"

With his crossbow slung over one shoulder and a pack filled with three days' worth of food and water, Daryl didn't turn back.

"Mr. Dixon?" the man at the gate asked, looking nervously back and forth between Rick and Daryl.

"Open the fuckin' gate," Daryl barked. "Right fuckin' now!"

"Don't do that, Mike," Rick warned from behind. "Daryl turned, his knuckles white as he gripped his knapsack. It was taking all the power in him not to haul off and break Rick's jaw. "Daryl, calm down."

"How the fuck you gonna tell me to calm down, when you sent Carol out there to die?"

"That's not what I did. You know that."

"You're a fuckin' coward," Daryl seethed, tossing his crossbow and knapsack into the dirt, turning to shoot Rick a look that told him to back up or get fucked up. "You walk around here like a fuckin' lunatic talking to ghosts and shit, and then you wanna say Carol's a threat? That's bullshit, man. Fuckin' bullshit."

"She killed Karen and David."

"Do I look like I give a shit right now? They were dyin' anyway. You know that." Daryl turned his head sharply to glare at the guy at the gate and then back at Rick. "Carol did what you didn't have the balls to." His eyes narrowed. "She thought she was doin' the right thing, and you sent her out there like the fuckin' coward sumbitch you are!"

"You walk out that gate and…"

"What, you gonna banish me, too? Good riddance, asshole!" By now, a crowd had gathered outside the cellblock. "I'll take my chances out on the road. Been doin' it my whole life. Like ridin' a bike." He turned back toward the gate and grabbed his things out of the dirt. He walked over to where his motorcycle was parked right next to the entrance, and he stared Mike down. "You gonna open that gate, or are you gonna be pissin' blood for a week?" Mike looked desperately at Rick, who angrily kicked the dirt. The young man scrambled to open the gate while Daryl revved up his ride. As soon as he had enough room to get out, he stepped on the gas and took off away from the prison, so blood-spitting mad that he didn't' care if he never saw it again.

Carol woke abruptly to the sound of a crow nearby. She blinked a few times, her vision a bit blurry. From the way the sun was hidden behind the thick tree line, she figured she'd been out for at least six hours.

She sat up, rubbing her aching neck and climbed out of the backseat. She opened the glove box and pulled out a bag of jerky and popped a couple of pieces in her mouth. The salt against her tongue made her thirsty. She had several bottles of water left, but she wanted to save it. She only took a few sips, just enough to wet her parched tongue.

The windows were fogged up, indicating that the temperature was starting to drop. After rummaging through a bag for a moment, she pulled a blue sweater on over her tank top and checked her mirrors. No sign of walkers. No sign of people. She was totally isolated.

If she was being honest, she didn't miss the prison. Yes, she missed the security of the walls and the friends she'd made, but at least out on the open road, she had control of her own fate. What she missed more than anything, however, was Daryl. She felt a tightening in her chest and her belly when she thought of him. He'd been her rock, helping her get through Sophia's disappearance and keeping hope alive for her when no hope was to be had. He'd pulled her out of that solitary cell and held her so close and carefully. She remembered the way his arms were steady and sure, but how his heart hammered mercilessly against his chest as he'd called her back to C block. She'd never forget that. His heart had given him away, but she never told him.

She pulled one of her books from her pack on the front seat and opened to the center. Pressed between pages 200 and 201 was something dry and flat, and it brought a smile to her face. Tears welled in her eyes, and she gently touched the crisp petals. She'd never forget the night he'd given it to her. He'd walked into Dale's camper with a beer bottle and that Cherokee rose sticking out of it. He'd given her hope for her little girl, and it had been the best gift anyone had ever given her.

Her biggest regret about killing Karen and David was that she hadn't been able to talk to Daryl about it. It hadn't been like she wanted to kill anyone. No. The safety of the group had been the top priority, and with Karen and David so sick and clearly not getting better, the only option aside from watching everybody else get sick and die too was to try and cut the sickness before it spread too far. Unfortunately, it hadn't worked, and Karen and David were still dead.

The memory of it all left her feeling cold and sick. The way Rick had looked at her and talked to her as if she was some kind of monster for thinking of the group like that had left her feeling very much like the woman she once was when Ed was around. When Rick told her he wouldn't have her around his children, it had been like a knife in the gut. She understood he was protecting his family, but it still stung. And she wondered if he'd have gone as far as she had for his own children.

She closed her eyes and leaned back against the car seat. She hated feeling like this. And feeling it while being so isolated was about to drive her crazy. She didn't like feeling this way toward Rick, either. After all, he'd helped keep most of the group alive this long. That was why she couldn't understand how he, as a man who had killed his best friend to safe his own life, could lash out at her over Karen and David. It was murder. She got that. But life wasn't what it used to be. One person comes down with an illness that results in them bleeding from the eyes and throat with no immediate access to medicine, and they put an entire group of people at risk of sickness and death. It was horrible to think about. It could have easily been any of them that had gotten sick. It could have been Rick. Or her. Or Daryl. That…well, that she couldn't stand to think about.

Daryl glanced down to see he was nearing E. He'd probably gone close to sixty miles from the prison, stopping every once in a while to check the area for signs of Carol. So far, the only thing he'd run into was a herd of walkers. He'd taken out half a dozen or so before they became so thick in numbers that he had to chance an escape. He'd managed alright, but he couldn't help but wonder if Carol had come across that same herd. Had she survived? The thought had his chest feeling tight and his stomach turning. He hated the idea of Carol being all alone out there. She was a strong woman who could take care of herself, but Daryl already knew that if he came to find anything had happened to her, he'd have no problem going back into that prison and beating Rick grimes within an inch of his life.

An eye for an eye, baby brother. It was something Merle always said when somebody crossed him and he wanted revenge.

About a mile down the road, Daryl began to hear the familiar sputtering he was dreading. Growling angrily, he brought his bike to a stop and turned it off. He pocketed the keys, got off the bike and kicked the tire. Hard.

"Goddamn fuckin' thing," he muttered, stuffing his hands into his pockets and kicking the gravel under his feet. He adjusted his crossbow and pack over his shoulder and looked down the road. All eh saw was pavement and leaves and discarded bags strewn along the way. Bad thing about the end of the world? Nobody to give you a lift when you find yourself out of gas.

The only car he could see that wasn't a burnt out shell was about a half mile up. He didn't have much of a choice, so he started pushing the motorcycle down the road. He kept an eye out for walkers and hoped the car up ahead would have some gas left to spare. From what he could tell, it was some kind of SUV, which was promising. If anybody had stopped to loot some gas, maybe there would still be some left.

The closer he got, the harder he gripped the handlebars of his motorcycle. His heart thumped wildly in his chest. He was tired, and this car was probably the closest thing he had to shelter for the night. He'd gas up the bike, take shelter for the night and start fresh in the morning.

When he approached the vehicle, he parked the bike in front of it and slowly circled it, looking for signs of life or living death. Inside the car, he could see a blanket on the back seat and a few bottles of water. He noticed a half-empty bag of jerky on the dash and several more bottles of water in the back of the car. His hand tightened on his crossbow, and he opened the passenger's side door. He took the bag of jerky out and sniffed it. He pulled a small piece out and bit into it. It was surprisingly fresh, which meant whoever was occupying this car hadn't been dead long, or they were alive and coming back.

He opened the glove box to find another bag of jerky. He didn't' exactly feel right about taking it, but given the shitty day he'd just had, and the fact that he was going to need his strength to find Carol, he didn't mull over it too long.

He popped open the back hatch easily and stuffed five bottles of water into his pack. He rummaged around a little, finding more food, batteries, flashlights and clothes. They were all women's clothes, all feminine and soft. As he pulled a familiar maroon top out of the bag, realization hit him in the gut like a heavy stone.

"I don't think that's really your color. It does nothing to bring out the color in your eyes." That voice! He spun sharply on his heels to find Carol leaning against a tree, arms folded across her chest. His breath left his lungs, and he felt a little dizzy.

"Carol?"

"Hi, Pookie." She gave him a little half-smile and walked toward him, a little unsure if a hug would be ok or not. But he moved toward her, bringing her into a strong hug, his hands moving up her back. She gasped at the feel of his strong arms around her, but she leaned into the hug, tears stinging her eyes.

"Hey, Stranger," he murmured, letting the hug linger for a few moments more. When they finally pulled away, she brushed her hand down his arm and linked her fingers with his.

"God, it's so good to see you," she murmured, brushing her own tears away with her free hand.

"I came lookin' for ya. Rick told me what happened." Her heart swelled at hearing he'd come after her, but at the same time, she felt a cold, clammy feeling in her stomach when she saw the anger that flickered in his eyes at the mention of Rick's name.

"Yeah, I'm sure he did." She nodded. "Daryl…"

"He had no right." His words fell between them like a boulder, and Carol pursed her lips, waiting for the inevitable Dixon explosion. "He had no right to do what he did."

"I'm fine, Daryl. Really." The waver in her voice did nothing to convince him. Still, she was a little too casual about the whole thing. He'd certainly not been expecting her to break down in his arms or anything, but she seemed to be doing ok on her own, and that was a tad unsettling. He wanted her safe, of course, but part of him, as selfish as it might have seemed, didn't want to be without her.

"Oh, you're fine?" he asked. "You, what, just accept that he threw you out like garbage?" His hands were balled into tight fists at his sides. "He had no fuckin' right!"

"Calm down, Daryl! Look, you know why he did it. He told you, right?" Daryl eyed her and gave a short nod. "I'm not part of that group anymore. I made a choice." Her voice was quivering again. "I killed Karen and David. I did that. And Rick has every right to make a decision for the group…" She sounded like she was trying to convince herself of that.

"Christ, Carol! Would ya stop defendin' him?" Daryl was pacing angrily in front of her now. She wanted to reach out for him, but she knew she'd better let him cool off first. She wasn't afraid of him, but she knew that if she reached out, he'd pull away. Finally, he let out a sharp breath and moved closer to her. "Rick don't make decisions for me." He thumped his chest to stress the point. It was a bit caveman-like, and Carol felt a flutter in her stomach. Damn it, he was even sexy when he was pissed off.

"Daryl," she urged softly, "it's ok."

"Like hell it's ok!" he hollered. He knew better. Within moments, two walkers appeared from the trees. "Aw shit." He spat on the ground, aimed his crossbow and launched an arrow through the rancid walker's eye. Carol removed her knife from her belt and stuck it right through the other walker's skull, giving the handle a turn before she removed it and wiped off the blade. Daryl looked at her, his mouth hanging open slightly. She was so composed and handled herself just fine, and here he was all pissed off because of Rick Grimes, and he was the one to fuck up and call attention to him.

"You wanna keep yelling, or do you wanna get in the car?" Carol nodded toward a group of a dozen or so walkers approaching from the other side of the road. Daryl took one last look at his old motorcycle before he slid into the car with Carol. She turned on the ignition and peeled out, driving like a bat out of hell. Funny thing was, she seemed perfectly calm and steady with her hands on the wheel.

When they were safely away from the small herd, Daryl relaxed in his seat and looked at Carol, who had slowed the car considerably.

"The hell you learn to drive like that?" he wondered. She cricked her neck and shrugged as a small smile quirked up in the corner of her mouth.

"I picked up a few things from you over the last year or so," she teased. He felt his neck tingle and gave her an uncertain half-smile. He tossed his crossbow and pack into the backseat, and Carol sighed, adjusting the rear view mirror.

"So," she broached quietly, eyeing him from her side of the car. "You want me to take you back to the prison?"

"You serious?" he asked, as if it was the world's most ridiculous question. "I ain't goin' nowhere if you ain't goin' too."