Something wasn't right with this place.
Carol's skin hadn't stopped itching since the group had entered the community within the looming, rusted metal walls. She had a plan from the start, a plan that she always carried with her in her back pocket as a safe last resort. She remembered sharing the insights of this plan with a one and only late Merle Dixon.
People underestimate me…Don't underestimate me.
He had been taken aback by that, probably expecting a stutter or lack of eye contact to follow her threat. But she had stared him dead in the eyes and emphasized if he screwed with her family, especially Daryl…
I will slit your throat while you sleep.
She couldn't sleep in the house tonight. She had gotten a refreshing shut eye for the last few nights, but she wanted to see this town behind the scenes first hand, in the night life. She had conferred with Rick before she left and while he had wanted to back her play and come with her, she convinced him to stay behind.
"I don't like you going alone." Rick shook his head, glancing down the darkened streets. She shrugged her shoulders and her hand hovered over the knife that was tucked securely behind her layers.
"If you come with me, people aren't as likely to expose their true selves." She glanced back at him as she spoke. "If I'm going to get any intel, I need to appear vulnerable."
He wasn't stupid. He had caught on to her helpless act ever since she put on the display of having trouble with her powerhouse gun, which she always handled with ease like it was her third arm. The people of Alexandria saw him as the levelheaded, strong constable that could restrain a raging Daryl. The same people saw Carol as a delicate den mother.
If anything went wrong, she would handle herself. They both knew that.
"I'll be back within forty five minutes." She convinced him. "I doubt anything will happen, but if it does, I'll holler."
"We'll be there." Rick nodded.
And here she was, walking down the darkened block. She tried to appear weak and scared, walking at a fast pace with her hands crossed over her chest, not in a confronting manner, but as if she was cold and trying to keep herself warm. Her eyes scanned the houses all around her, and when she peeked into the windows, she saw apparent 'normal' families eating dinner, relaxing, reading, or even playing board games.
It was too good to be true.
She had a five minute walk left until she was back at home, and everything had checked out to be decent so far. When she passed a dimly lit house, she steeled when she heard a voice call out from the porch.
"Hey, you!" She visibly, purposefully, flinched and whipped her head towards the speaker. She saw a silhouette sitting on a dark porch. He appeared to be rocking.
"Y-yes?" She stuttered with a nervous smile. She had to milk the helpless-casserole-maker role for all its worth.
The figure stood, wavering a bit as he did so, and made his way down the porch stairs with heavy steps. "You're with that Rick fella right?" His voice was quiet but stern. "The one who got a haircut from my wife?" It was Jessie's husband, Pete.
"I believe so!" Carol kept smiling. "He looks much better, thanks to her!"
"Yeah, that's the damn problem." His voice grumbled. He was getting closer, and she could see the sway in his steps better now.
He'd been drinking. And he was angry.
He was a few yards away now, and she could already smell the beer coming off of him in waves. Her mind instantly flashed to Ed's face and this situation felt all too familiar. Luckily, she knew exactly what to expect from an angry drunk.
"I'm sorry?" She squinted at Pete. He was an arm's length away now, and she took a step back.
"You need to do me a favor." He pointed, though his finger was nowhere close to aiming at her. "You need to tell your damn cop friend that he needs to find his own woman. He can screw the chick with dreads, or you for all I care, but he needs to stay away from Jessie."
She visibly winced and raised her hands in defense. "O-okay, I'm so sorry. I'll tell him to stay away. I promise!" Carol knew what buttons to press with insecure, drunken husbands. "I don't know why you'd think she'd b-be with him." She gave a tiny gasp as he stepped closer. She could feel his breath on her skin. She was prepared to run if need be; he was so drunk that he'd fall over if he turned too fast.
"You know damn well why! You all just show up and Deanna fucking gives you people security jobs over us? You think you're better than us!" He snatched her upper arm in a tight hold and Carol steeled herself mentally. She'd dealt with this a thousand times before with Ed. She could take another for the team.
But before she had to, before she could even form a sentence in defense, a deathly quiet voice spoke out to their right and was as clear as the night sky in Georgia.
"You fuckin' let her go or I'll put a bolt in your skull, asshole."
Daryl. Carol's head whipped to her defender as Pete gave a side glance to the newcomer. Daryl had appeared, just ten feet away, with his crossbow aimed straight at Pete's head.
Pete smirked and his grip relaxed but still held firm. "Do you know who I am?" He slurred with a laugh. "I'm the town surgeon, you redneck shit. If you kill me, you'll have a rebellion on your hands. They'll exile you before sundown!" For emphasis, he yanked Carol into his form and squeezed her arm until she gasped.
Daryl hadn't blinked since he appeared, and his crossbow hadn't wavered in his aim. But he was close enough now that Carol could see his face clearly, even in the night. Something in his gaze snapped and his face turned into a snarl.
"Is that right?" Even though he spoke slowly and clearly, there was no mistaking the trembling rage behind his words. Carol held her breath.
Shing.
"AAAAAH!" Daryl's arrow pierced Pete's foot, causing him to lose the grip he had on Carol. Daryl was in front of her in just three strides and added a swift punch to Pete's face along with the arrow in the foot.
"Stitch that, shithead." With Pete rolling around on the ground while his hands clasped around his broken nose, Daryl turned to Carol and gently whispered "let's head home."
"But what about-"
"Leave him be. Won't die from bleedin'." He knelt down to the ground, grabbed the front of Pete's shirt, and pulled his face closer to his. "You ever come near her again? You ever touch her again or any of my people, and you'll be dealing with more than a bolt in the foot." With that, he yanked the arrow from Pete's limb, causing another yelp to escape the drunken man. "Shut up." Daryl grunted.
"But what if he tells someone what you did?" Carol whispered worriedly. Daryl dropped Pete to the ground and stood up swiftly.
"Then we tell 'em what he did." His face was serious. "If he's half the doc he says he is, he can stitch that himself with no attention. Won't be sharin' this. Unless he really is that dumb. Come on."
They started for home, leaving Pete lying on his front lawn, when Carol quietly thanked him. "I could've handled him, but I'm glad you intervened when you did. I didn't even realize you were there."
"You ain't ever alone." He glanced back to make sure Pete was still subdued. "From now on, you ain't checking these people out solo. I'm goin' with you. Even if I'm not next to you."
She smirked and grabbed his hand in hers. She squeezed tight for a few seconds (and even in that time, he seemed to almost visibly relax from her touch), before she eased her grip. "Sounds perfect."