Note: for the story's sake, there won't be any of Tyreese and his group. I don't know enough about the characters to write them in properly. Also, I know I talk about eyes way too much. Bear with me. Thanks so much for reading!

The morning after the dream about Daryl's return was the day the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. The windows fogged up and the droplets on them glittered in the gentle, golden light. As they slid down, they cut little slits in the fog so that Carol could peer out and survey the prison yard. There were still walkers clutching the fence and rattling the metal-four, to be exact. One in particular caught Carol's eye. She looked to be a young woman, with lots of long, red hair. A hunk of flesh was missing from her collarbone to her jaw. It had just been torn away, like taking a bite out of an apple. Her nightgown indicated she'd been sleeping when the outbreak occurred. If Carol squinted, she could make out some sort of pattern meshed into the fabric. Flowers, maybe? She could have been a nice girl. She could have been a wonderful woman. She could have been in love. Or maybe she had kids. And now she was a monster who didn't know friend from food. Carol vowed she would never let herself be reduced to that. If she was ever bitten and amputation was impossible, she'd take a bullet in the head with gratitude.

And just when she considered stomping out into the yard and ramming a knife into their skulls, ending their misery they didn't even know they were in, someone else did it for her. An arrow shot through her right eye. Blood spurted out. She fell into the fence, lifeless. The remaining three turned, very slowly, to face the source of the arrow. Now Carol's attention was really caught. Daryl Dixon used a crossbow. Crossbows use arrows. But Daryl was dead. Daryl Dixon was dead. Or was he?

Another walker went down. The arrow hit him right between the eyes. He fell forward, jamming the arrow deeper into his brain. Carol didn't stand around to be a witness. She had to act. Someone was out there. Whether or not it was Daryl was irrelevant. Someone alive was out there and they would either be a friend or an enemy. Carol hoped for the former.

She heaved the door open. It was muggy out. Two days of rain and sudden heat does that. Carol ran to the fence. The walkers were keeled over. They each had an arrow implanted in their skulls. Whoever had shot them was hanging back, obscured in the shadows cast by the boughs of the trees. Whoever had shot them had very good aim.

"Carol?" Rick shouted suddenly. His voice was cut off my door swinging closed. Carol quickened her pace. She was almost to the fence. She could see a dark figure shifting beneath the canopy of leaves and another one working its way through the maze of tree trunks. They were conversing, two of them if not more following behind, and they both seemed to be grown men. Rick burst through the door, shouting her name. She ignored him. Now she was running as fast as her legs would allow. Her heart was racing. Her hand was at her belt, fingering the hilt of her knife. The blade wasn't very long, and was inferior in every way against a crossbow, but it was better than nothing.

Rick caught up to her, grabbing her arm. She yelped as she was jerked back and raised her hand, swatting at his. Maybe he'd get the memo that she wanted out of his grip. But Carol wasn't any match against Rick, and there was nothing she could but huff as he tried to calm her down. Rick loosened his grasp. He didn't want Carol to feel threatened, but he needed to convey the message that running up to strangers on the blank hope that it would be Daryl was a fantastic way to get killed and the prison seized by attackers.

"We need to be rational," he told her. She tried to turn her head to the woods but he held her by the jaw, just firm enough to keep to her there without hurting her. She'd suffered more pain inflicted by a man in fifteen years of marriage than any woman ever should in her entire lifetime. But Rick cared about Carol, and he couldn't raise Judith without her. So even though Carol's eyes glistened with frustration, he had to keep her safe, even if at that moment she hated him. "We can't run around wavin' our hands at-"

And then he stopped. His eyes lit up. He lifted his head. Whoever had shot the walkers had finally decided to reveal himself, and Rick dropped Carol's arm. His fingers fell from her face. Carol held her breath. A tiny laugh escaped through the crack where Rick's lips failed to meet. They pulled into a subtle smile. And that subtle smile grew until he was beaming. Then Rick took off. Carol hesitated a few seconds to process what had just happened, then turned to follow him. Rick's body blocked her view but when she finally reached the fence she realized the motive behind Rick's urgency.

Daryl was breathing heavily, like he'd been darting around the Georgia wilderness dodging flesh hungry corpses—which, of course, he had been. Daryl wasn't the kind to leap around in triumph, no matter how great the victory and this instance was, for the most part, no exception, but for the fact that a tiny smile played on his lips. It was so subtle it was barely noticeable. But there were other emotions at work in Daryl's mind. He hid them well, but Carol could see right through him. She noticed it immediately when he failed to make eye contact with her. And then he avoided meeting her face, like they were sworn enemies or something. Every time his eyes would drift over, he'd cut his gaze back to Rick, who didn't seem to notice anything peculiar about Daryl's strange body language.

Rick continued to smile at Daryl, shaking his head and chuckling to himself, hands on his hips. Carol didn't smile. She was relieved as hell to see Daryl well and alive—and in directly front of her—but there had to be something else. There had to be. His nervous body movement said it all.

"It's good to have you back, brother." Rick told him.

Daryl allowed his smile to widen a tiny bit. "So, you gonna let us in or what?"

And for a moment, it almost eluded Rick. He began advancing towards the gate. And then he stopped, his eyes widening in realization.

"…we?" He asked sharply and Daryl stared at the ground once more. He shifted his feet. He reached down and ripped his arrow from one of the walker's heads—the girl with the floral nightgown and damp, red hair. He wiped the tip on his pants.

"What the hell do you mean, 'we'?" Rick persevered.

And that's when the second figure emerged from the shadows. The one Carol had seen earlier. She recognized him immediately, and unfortunately, so did Rick. Carol sighed as Daryl slowly rested his gaze on her face. "I'm sorry," he seemed to say. Carol shook her head softly. Rick gave Daryl a pleading look that said, "Please don't make me do this."

"Well, well, well," said Merle in a voice that was almost singsong. Daryl looked at his feet uneasily as his brother sauntered up behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder roughly. "Looks like we meet again, huh?" Daryl twitched and Carol folded her arms. This wasn't the reunion she wanted. She knew Daryl loved his brother, and his brother loved him, but Merle was bad news. He was provocative, volatile and obnoxious. Every wall Daryl had broken down over the past nine months, Merle would build right back up, and Daryl would be powerless.

That's when the others noticed. And unfortunately for everyone, the first one out of that door was Glenn, and the sight of Merle standing there with that smug grin on his face was enough to ignite the temper inside him to a point of rage nobody had ever seen before. He took off immediately. Maggie screamed for him, bolting after him instantly. She reached to grab at his sleeve but he was too fast. Glenn was a little thing, but he could certainly book it when he was determined.

"What the hell is he doing here?!" he demanded, stopping suddenly about ten feet from the fence. Carol stared wide-eyed at him. By the time Maggie caught up with him, Glenn had his gun drawn and aimed right at Merle, who had his hands up in defense—well, so to speak, since he only had one.

"Glenn, don't." Maggie told him very firmly. She was breathing heavily. Glenn tightened his grip on the gun.

"Maggie, stay out of this." He warned. Maggie backed away slowly. Michonne was behind Maggie with her fingers wrapped around her katana, ready to unsheathe her blade in a moment's notice. She hadn't forgotten what Merle had done to her. She certainly hadn't forgiven him.

Daryl continued to stare at the ground and at the little trail of ants winding through the grass. He hung his head but slowly lifted his eyes alone to gaze at her. Carol shook her head softly and subtly.

What have you done? She thought sadly.