AN: So I wanted to write something different. What if Merle comes back? (SEASON 3!) But, what if he isn't as evil as we thought? I'm just playing with ideas here, and hoping that some of it comes true. Maybe...

Anyway, this is set after the season 2 finale. No Shane, no Dale. (sadness!) No farm. (more sadness!) No Andrea because she's with Michonne now. But, I'm gonna leave the prison out of it because I'm not familiar with that part of the story. So enjoy.

As usual, I do not own the Walking Dead or any of the characters.

-Shazzy

Turn of Fate

They'd been walking for days.

They had to ditch the vehicles. Daryl's motorcycle would have been the only one that they could have brought, but even then, without gas, there was little point.

So they'd packed all their gear into backpacks and rucksacks. Daryl had made sure to bring Merle's stash and the extra ammo for his brother's gun. He hadn't complained when he'd seen Carl carrying it, in fact, he was just happy that the kid had made himself useful.

Daryl kept Carol close. They'd been nigh on inseparable in the aftermath of the loss of the farm. She was feeling sorry for herself, and while it was all Daryl could do to not yell at her and leave her, he somehow felt too guilty to do that. She was hurting as madly as everyone else, worse, if Daryl was any judge of character. She'd lost everything on that damn farm, and now, it seemed, even the safety the farm had offered had turned on her too. Daryl would be damned if he was gonna leave her like that.

But it was getting hard.

Lori was insufferable. She was getting sicker as they went – the morning sickness had kicked in – and it slowed their progress. Maggie and Carol did what they could for her, but there was nothing. Rick was looking haggard and worn, he had stopped listening to anyone. He'd made it very clear that he was no longer concerned about what the group thought.

Daryl couldn't argue. In fact, he admired the man for his tenacity and for finally growing a pair of balls, even if no one else was terribly impressed by it.

The group trudged along silently. They were lost and hopeless and food and water were in short supply. Even raiding the cars along the highway whenever they could wasn't enough. Daryl couldn't hunt and they were all starting to feel the effects of not having enough.

It was hitting Carl the worst and Daryl felt a pang of guilt about it.

When they stopped to rest – and to let Lori puke for the millionth time – Daryl pulled Rick aside.

"Carl ain't doin' so well as the rest of us." He said urgently.

"I know." Rick agreed with a sigh. "He's just a kid, Daryl. He shouldn't have to go through this crap!"

Daryl nodded. "Can't we camp here for a day or two? Set up a new perimeter?" He asked. "Lemme go hunt somethin' other than squirrel and rabbit and pigeon."

Rick sighed and cast a glance at his son, sitting next to Carol and nearly falling asleep where he sat in the grass.

"I don't think that's a wise idea." Rick said.

"An' I think this whole dictatorship you've got going on is bullshit!" Daryl hissed. "You can't just let everyone go on like this, Rick. We're tired, hungry, scared... Mourning." He ran the knuckle of his thumb against his forehead. "Face it, we're lost and suffering. Camping out for a few days ain't gonna hurt."

Rick sighed but had to agree. "All right." He said slowly. "A coupla days – just long enough to get a few supplies stocked up."

"Thank you." Daryl said. "Believe me, the women will thank you too." He clapped Rick on the shoulder and sauntered back to talk to Carol.

Things were finally starting to look up for the little group in the chaos of their loss.

But Rick was doubtful, something nagged at him and tugged, begging him to listen but he wasn't sure what it was.