A/N: Wasn't that premier amazing or what? Dudes, it's totally a bad idea to get attached to newbies. Poor Zach... I guess i doesn't help I loved him in A Haunting in Connecticut. *le sigh* OKAY. So, maybe I will be doing a oneshot for each ep that comes out. Depends on if I feel prompted. I dunno.

(Readers of my story Know Life To See Decay: I will continue to update that as well, have no fear!)

Disclaimer: The Walking Dead (c) AMC, Robert Kirkman

Daryl brushed past Maggie as he exited Beth's cell. Sinking cold settled in him, the chill left from when Beth had released him hadn't helped. The feelings of helplessness, awkwardness, and guilt were entirely too present as he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. He was starting to think Beth had been trying to comfort him instead of vice versa. Sighing, he treaded his way through the tall, concrete room.

The cell block itself still held the prison-like feel, despite the curtains and fabrics strewn about masking the steel bars and blood stains. But it did feel safe. And it was home. Sure, a cold, somewhat dark and dreary home with way too many people bustling about, but a home all the same. People were happy. And they weren't starving for the time being. Daryl supposed they'd say that was thanks to him.

He ventured outside the gates to track and snatch whatever he could every day, or every other day. Depending on their needs. When he'd brought back that deer, their need for squirrel meat wasn't all that dire yet. It helped, but it could wait.

And so his popularity with those people grew.

It was downright unpleasant at first, people wanting his attention the moment he finally got a second to sit, or practically anywhere he went. A good number of them had been screaming for him and Merle to tear each other apart in a gladiator ring under the Governor's eye. Now they were patting him on the back for bring home some venison.

Over the months they'd found more people as they combed the forests of Georgia. He'd found more people. Brought them into the fold. Their little prison community kept growing bigger and bigger the more he went out.

Then there was that damn kid. A little after Daryl had found him. Hell, saved his ass from a swarm, he just wouldn't leave him the hell alone. He'd come up and sit next to Daryl while he sat down for breakfast, or whenever he was sitting still, try to strike up a conversation. Early on he'd ask about Beth. After a while he'd learned better than to sit under Daryl's glare, smarted up and talked to her himself.

Eventually the kid started his own little guessing game. What did Daryl Dixon do before the turn? Daryl mostly shrugged him off, letting him guess his heart out. Never guessed right. But hell, if he wasn't a persistent little shit. Every single day he'd come up with a brand new try.

"I think I really got it this time," Is what he'd say.

Sometimes they were more regular, average. Sometimes it seemed like the kid was almost giving up with how ridiculous they were morphing into. Office worker. Grocery store manager. Firefighter. Bouncer. Private security. CIA. Mafia. It would've been more annoying if it wasn't so damned funny to watch him wrack his brain.

Homicide cop. Daryl almost laughed to himself again, then stopped with a deep frown. Even thinking about laughing almost left a bad taste now.

Daryl found himself standing outside of Carol's doorway, knuckles rapping lightly against the metal under the drapes.

She was sitting crosslegged against the wall on her bottom bunk, reading a book by the light of several candles strewn across the room. Her eyes traveled up to him as he lingered in the doorway. Smiling, she greeted him.

Daryl fidgeted slightly between his shoulders before entering, then sat his ass down on a bucket across from her bed.

Carol's smile faded as she looked harder at his face. Turning the corner of her page down, she tossed the book aside and scooted herself to the edge of the bed. Her knees parallel with his.

"What's wrong?"

Elbows on his knees, Daryl tucked his chin behind his fist, "Lost Zach today."

They'd lost people before. He'd lost family. Blood. It all hurt, every single time. Every person he'd let in even a little bit, it broke his heart some. Knowing they'd be talking and laughing one day, then the next be gone. It hurt when it wasn't his fault.

That day at the store, it had happened so fast. Too fast. The walkers were raining through the ceiling. Bob was trapped under the wine shelves. That helicopter was about to cave in on top of them. Then Zach was just snatched away with Daryl standing not three feet from him. He could still hear that kid's screams. He should've seen it coming. Should've known. It was his responsibility.

Daryl bowed his head, fist against his mouth.

Winding her slender hands together in her lap, Carol nodded with a frown, "Does Beth know?"

Without looking up, Daryl nodded, "Maggie was with her when I left."

"I'm sorry that happened, Daryl," Carol crooned, her voice full of sincerity.

Daryl sighed, peering up at her in the dim candlelight, "Wasn't supposed to go down that way. Scoped it, cleared out the outside fences. It was supposed to be a safe run. No casualties."

Carol didn't say anything, just leaned her elbows against her own knees, mirroring him. Listening. She was always good at that. Daryl didn't need somebody yacking at him right then. He just wanted to get some shit out.

"Didn't scope the place out good enough. Should've seen that copter on the roof. All of it didn't have to happen," Daryl let his face fall to the ground again, shaking his head at his own lack of foresight.

Silence seemed to echo in the tiny room. Glancing up, Daryl caught Carol's eyes on his face. Presumably there until he looked up at her.

She let out a delicate exhale, "You couldn't have known it was even necessary to check out the roof of that store. Zach's death wasn't your fault, Daryl. Death just happens. All we can do is fight it as long as we can, the best we can."

Her face was soft, but there an undeniable fierceness to her eyes as she spoke the words. One that had been present for some time now.

Carol smiled gently, "It's okay to feel sad about it, but you shouldn't feel guilty. Guilt brings you down."

Daryl nodded, knowing she was speaking from experience. He let his fist drop away from his face, "Alright."

"That kid," He started. "Zach. He'd try and guess my job from before all this shit went down."

"I remember," Carol responded.

"Yeah. He never did guess right. By today he was at homicide cop, but he'd always seem to guess some shit like that. All I really did was crap jobs like movin' shit, cleanin' floors, butchers. Mostly whatever I could pick up to keep me and Merle off the streets. And eatin' food other than just what we could hunt."

Daryl snorted as he stood, "Homicide cop."

Carol stood in unison with him, her hand grasping onto his arm, "You've come a long way since then. Now you could definitely be a homicide cop."

He scoffed again, "Right."

She squeezed his arm lightly before letting go, a smile hinting at her lips, "You should get some sleep. You look exhausted."

The weight of the day seemed to be drawing him down towards the floor. His eyelids felt heavy with fatigue. Suddenly his prison mattress seemed like the best place to be. Daryl shrugged, then headed for the door, "Night."

"Goodnight, Daryl," Carol replied, her arms wrapped around themselves as she left his view.

Neither payed close attention to the strained coughing which rung eerily throughout the prison hallways.

A/N: Anyone else REALLY nervous for walker!Patrick loose in the cell block with all the sleeping peeps? Cause I am...

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