A/N: Hey there again. So I thought this was a one-shot, but then this chapter sneaked up on me last night demanding to be written. Basically, I feel there's still a lot that our lovely pair needs to discuss, and some bad feelings they need to get past. Cause let's be honest, we don't want no emo Daryl in 5b, but we DO want some Caryl lovin' mhmmmm! So in my head, a conversation similar to this needs to happen, though I doubt the show writers will give us this. So I wrote it anyway! HA!

Anways, enjoy this second chapter! I have no idea if there will be more…I suppose it depends if anything occurs to me to write. Or on the off-chance there is great demand for further chapters…reviews help… ;)

Sorry for rambling…again…

Commence CHAPTER 2

The group had left Atlanta in silence, enveloped in shock and disbelief as half of them piled into the fire truck, whilst the rest made the short walk back to the van Daryl had found with Noah. No words were spoken as Daryl helped Carol climb up into the passenger side of the van, deliberately avoiding looking back as Tyreese lifted Beth into the back. Maggie clutched at Glenn's shirt, face buried in his shoulder as they waited their turn to climb in, closely followed by a sombre-faced Noah, and an almost stoic Sasha.

Once they had all climbed inside, Daryl shut Carol's side door, before circling around and swiftly pulling the back shutter closed before he could make eye contact with the people inside. Carol watched as he climbed up into the driver's side seat, slamming his own door almost angrily, though his face betrayed no emotion. His eyes were hard, lips pressed together in a harsh line and jaw clenched tight. He started up the engine, forcing it into gear roughly, and Carol noticed the slight tremble in his hands as they came to rest upon the steering wheel.

She could tell that he knew she was watching him. The way his eyes flickered uncomfortably as he kept his head straight on the road. His knuckles alternated in cycles between stark white as he clenched the wheel, and angry red as he released it and the blood rushed back to his fingers. But just as he refused to look at her, she refused to look away.

As they rounded a corner, the back of the stationary fire truck came into sight. It flashed its indicators, and Daryl responded with a flash of the headlights. The fire truck rolled from its spot and out into the road, and they fell into convoy, heading out of the city.

Daryl didn't know where they were driving to; there had been no discussion before the group split. But right now, he didn't even care where they were headed. He just wanted to get away from this place. The blackened high-risers and the junk littering the streets felt suffocating to him. He tried to clear his mind, but it seemed everywhere he looked he could see the word "failure" in clear, condemning letters. He could almost see it written across the walls of an office block. Even in the lines on the pavement. That word was everywhere. He swore he could even hear it in the rumbling of the engine.

Carol watched as the tension in his body coiled tighter and tighter, and he looked about ready to snap. Each breath he took rattled in and out of his lungs in barely contained rage.

"Stop it," she said suddenly, sternly but with no trace of hostility.

"Stop what?" he snarled, his eyes not leaving the road.

"Blaming yourself," she replied softly.

His nostrils flared at that. It was like she could hear his thoughts out loud. In that moment, he hated that he was so transparent to her. It only added to his rage.

"Yeah, well there ain't nobody else to blame," he growled.

"Daryl, it wasn't your fault," she pleaded with him.

"She was with me!" he almost shouted, his eyes finally meeting hers as his head whipped towards her.

In the few seconds he stared at her before his gaze fell back upon the road, she saw every one of his emotions play across his face. Anger. Self-loathing. Even fear. But what spoke to her most was the helplessness hiding just at the back of his eyes. She knew he was trying to hide it. No matter how close they had become, weakness was not something he would reveal lightly, even to her. But she saw it just the same. And she found herself shaking her head slowly at him as he turned back to the road, trying to even out his breathing.

"You know as well as I do that we don't all make it," she told him carefully, tears welling up in her eyes as she thought about the young girl she had loved so much. The girl she had mentored and mothered since their meeting at Hershel's farm. "We lose people no matter what. And there's not a damn thing we can do about it."

He stayed silent, listening to her words through the ringing in his ears.

"Beth made a mistake," She heard his sharp intake of breath at the mention of the girl's name, "but what she did, she did because she thought it was the right thing to do. She was strong; stronger than any of us gave her credit for. What she did was her choice, and nothing you or any of us could'a done would've changed that."

She watched as Daryl's hands released the angry grip they'd held upon the steering wheel, and his breath left him dejectedly. Whether or not he liked to admit it, her words had gotten through to him. He heard her, and felt her words, and he could feel the anger dissipating, and that helpless feeling overtaking him.

He marvelled at that. There was nobody he'd ever known in his life, before or after the dead started walking, that could calm him down with just words. And not for the first time, he was in awe of the tiny woman to his right. Time and time again she hacked at the walls he'd so carefully built around himself, and he knew it wouldn't be long before she tore them down completely.

He was suddenly taken back to the time they'd spent in Atlanta before she was kidnapped. Was it days ago? Hours? Time was scrambled in his head. The irony hit him hard then. He had spent that entire time alone with her trying to break through her own walls. Trying to get her to stop blaming herself for the things she had to do. He looked away from the road quickly to find her eyes still upon him.

"What 'bout you?" he said gruffly, "You stopped blaming yourself yet?"

He knew he'd hit a nerve when her lip trembled, and she looked away from him at last, eyes falling to her hands in her lap.

"That's different," she half whispered.

"Bullshit," he said clearly.

"It is," she said, "you don't know what I did. What I had to do."

The thumb of her right hand scratched at the skin of her left palm, her lips folding together as she fought to keep her composure, willing the conversation to end.

"So tell me," he said gently, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"I…I don't think I can," she whispered, blinking back the moisture in her eyes.

"You can't hold it in forever," he answered, glancing at her in an attempt to break through the fog he had unwittingly brought down upon her head, "Just tell me," he implored softly.

Carol choked out a constrained sob, before taking a breath and taking control of herself.

"I saw the smoke," she started, eyes down focussing on the floor, "from the prison. I knew something was wrong. I came back, but by the time I got there it was overrun. Everyone was gone. I didn't even know if anyone got out. I was so…terrified, that you might be dead."

He swallowed thickly. He still hadn't forgiven Rick for sending her away back at the prison.

"I walked around the area for a while. Hoped maybe I'd run into someone. I found Tyreese and the girls. He was so happy to see me," she laughed humourlessly, "I figured he didn't know it was me who killed…"

She tailed off, knowing she didn't need to complete that sentence. She knew that Daryl knew it was she who had killed Karen and David.

"We travelled together for a while. Even felt like I had a purpose again. Like they needed me. We came across this pecan grove. Seemed like somewhere we could stay for a while. Keep the girls and Judith safe."

Daryl noticed her voice sounded almost wistful. Like she was somehow at peace in that thought. But as quickly as it had come, the peace was shattered, and her tone darkened.

"Lizzie was sick," she said solemnly.

There was silence for a few moments, and Daryl almost asked what she meant. Had Lizzie had the flu that had taken so many lives at the prison? Is that what happened to the girls?

As if reading his mind, Carol answered darkly.

"Not that kind of sick. Her mind…she was…" Carol tailed off, unsure of how to describe the state of Lizzie's mind.

"She thought that walkers were still people. Like, another stage of life. Said they were just different. Caught her playing chase with one out in the yard. She got mad when I put it down."

Daryl's eyebrows creased in confusion. And then it dawned on him.

"She the one feeding the walkers at the fence back at the prison?" he asked her.

She nodded tearfully before continuing.

"I didn't know what she was gonna do. I swear I didn't," she choked out, her hands reaching up to cover her face as unwanted memories swarmed her vision.

"Hey, it's ok," he spoke softly, reaching over to pull her hand from her face. Her wet eyes looked at his concerned features. "Just tell me," he echoed in a whisper.

He turned back to face the road, but kept his hand on her wrist at her side. She breathed in deeply.

"Me and Tyreese, we left the girls with Judith. Just for a few minutes while we went to hunt down a deer. When we got back…" her voice shook as the tears fell uncontrollably now, "Lizzie was just stood there. There was so much blood. And Mika…"

She didn't need to continue for Daryl to understand.

"Lizzie killed her," he mumbled, his hand travelling past her wrist to meet her hand. Her fingers clutched his desperately as she nodded. He squeezed her hand, urging her to continue.

"She was going to let her turn. She was going to do the same to Judith. We couldn't let her…I mean, we had to… She couldn't be with us." She sobbed.

"Hey, it's ok," Daryl spoke comfortingly, wishing more than anything he could just pull over and hold her.

"I killed her, Daryl," she almost shouted hysterically, before curling in on herself and whispering brokenly, "I killed her."

Daryl remained silent for a few moments, taking it all in, never relinquishing his hold upon her hand. His heart broke as he listened to her sobbing beside him. He wished more than anything that he could've been there with her. He would give anything to take this pain from her, but he knew he couldn't. And at last he understood why she hadn't told him. She thought he would judge her. Condemn her.

As if he ever could.

"Hey," he whispered. As if she hadn't heard him, she made no move to lift her head as her tears continued to flow.

"Hey," he said louder this time. Reluctantly she raised her shoulders, looking up to meet his eyes, "you did what you had to do. I'm sorry you had to do it, but you had to do it. Y'hear me?"

She sniffled, swiping at the tear tracks upon her cheeks as he struggled to keep looking between her and the road ahead.

"Ain't nobody I ever met cares about people as much as you," he told her reassuringly, "this life makes us do shitty things. Don't make us shitty people. I know you. You ain't no cold-blooded killer. You're just strong enough to do what's gotta be done."

She clutched at his hand like a lifeline, and marvelled at his words. She had been right before, he really was a man now. And as his blue eyes met hers, she felt for the first time that maybe she could move past this. She'd never felt more loved, understood, cared for than in that moment.

As they drove onwards out of the city, she squeezed his fingers and whispered.

"Thank you."

The group stood around the gravesite in the clearing in the woods. Maggie laid the last shovel-full of dirt over the ground above her sister, before kneeling to pat the earth, pressing her hand down firmly as if feeling for some warmth. Daryl looked around at his makeshift family. Some took comfort in each other; Sasha clung to Tyreese's midriff, his arm clutched tightly around her shoulder. Rick held Judith in one arm, his other falling across his son's shoulder, whose other hand was held safely in Michonne's. Rosita and Abraham stood just off to the side with their hands clasped.

Others stood alone; Noah stood awkwardly to the side, and Daryl could see the guilt in his eyes. Tara stood close to Eugene, who swayed slightly on his feet, still dazed from his time unconscious. Glenn stood over his wife, helping her to her feet as Gabriel stood before them all, a bible in his hands, as he began to read a passage.

Daryl had never cared much for religion. He figured any God up there, if he did exist, clearly wanted nothing to do with him or any other Dixon for that matter. He tuned out the words being spoken, and instead chose to focus on the woman stood beside him.

Glancing sideways at Carol, he could see her eyes were focussed on the brown mound of earth before them. She looked utterly devastated despite her eyes remaining dry, and Daryl figured she must have shed all the tears her body could muster. He felt a similar sensation. He was emotionally exhausted, and all he could feel was a numbness falling upon him. Absentmindedly, he found his hand reaching for hers, and she took it unflinchingly. It amazed him how comfortable he felt at the contact. Perhaps this woman had changed him more than he ever thought possible.

As he looked around at the tired and grief-stricken faces of those he'd come to call friends, he wondered how long they could keep going. How many more tragedies would it take before they were too far gone? But as Carol squeezed his hand, Beth's words from not so long ago entered his mind. Words uttered as they sat in front of an old shack, lit up on moonshine and reminiscing about the good (and not so good) times.

"You have to put it away."

"What if you can't?"

"You have to. Or it kills you."

Despite himself, he felt the tiniest smile tug at the corner of his mouth. And as he listened to the unfamiliar words of the priest, he breathed in the clean air of the woods, and closed his eyes as the last rays of sunshine disappeared behind the trees. And as sunset fell over the forest, he knew that he'd keep pushing on. He wouldn't go down without a fight.

Reviews are just lovely, aren't they?