I'm anxious about sunday so I figured I'd write another chapter for this! It's probably going to turn into a 3 chapter story, we'll see!

Also... I hate the writers decision of making Carol kill those two, feels extremely OOC to me; but since I think it's pretty much a fact already I decided to move around that idea, see how Daryl might take it.

I hope you like it! R&R!

Hugs.

S.-

...

2.

Daryl felt relieved when he saw Michonne's frame killing some of the walkers behind the fences. She was probably the only person who wouldn't demand an explanation as to why and where he was heading to when it was already dark, and that was a good thing because he didn't feel like dealing with people minding about his god damn bussiness right now.

He supposed Rick hadn't told the rest of the group he'd banished Carol, or the reasons why he decided to do it, and he wondered if he was actually going to be honest about it, since he sometimes tended to keep some information to himself, like that time when he hid from everyone they were all infected. Daryl didn't know what was better though: on one hand, it would be unfair for Carol if he just told them she died or he lost her on the run… it wouldn't bring the group the possibility to question Rick's decision; but then again, he wasn't sure how the group was going to react if he told everyone Carol had actually killed David and Karen. Some of them, at least, might even agree with what Rick's done. Tyresse wouldn't, definitely, but because he'd want to blow her brains out or rip her open or something. But what about the others? What about him? How was he feeling about Carol having killed those people? He didn't feel capable of thinking about it right now, not until he found her, not when there were much important things to worry, like her, all by herself outside those gates.

Michonne didn't react nor turned around at the sight of Daryl ready to take off in his bike, but he needed her to open the gate from him, so he whistled at her.

'Yow, could ya open it fer me?'

She looked at him over her shoulder. 'thought it was you who said the track's gone cold.'

'Yea, ain't tha reason why I'm leavin', he mumbled.

'Can't wait til' dawn?' she asked, sticking a knife on a walker's forehead.

'Nope'.

Michonne moved to the gate and started to open it without any more questions. Although she was glancing at him with curiosity, she still didn't say a word. The woman was discrete and respectful of people's personal space and issues, just like he was, which had been the main reason why they had gotten along so well on their time looking for the governor these last months.

'Need help out there?' she asked, killing the few walkers that were trying to get inside.

'I'm good, ya stay 'round, they need ya 'ere', he told her, and gave her one last nod before leaving the prison.

...

The air was cold as Daryl drove his motorcycle away from the prison, the chill somehow getting under his skin and running through his spine. He was trying hard not to let his feelings interfer, not to think that although he didn't know what was going to happen, there was a chance he may not go back there. Might not see Rick again, lil' Ass Kicker… the closest to a family he's ever had, might never find out whether the meds helped people get over that epidemy… whether Glenn survives or dies along with the others. But Carol… well… she was more than family to him; it had been for her… because of her, that he never left the group to begin with; she'd been the glue that'd stuck him to them, the reason underneath his slow but evident change, because whatever it was that she'd seen in him, it had encouraged him to let it out. She had encouraged him to be that person he didn't even know he was.

Daryl had always thought an important part of that bond was due to the fact this zombie outbreak had actually changed them both for good. Maybe because their lifes were already a fucking apocalypsis before a global one took place. Funny thing, to call it some way, was their changes happened in exact oppossite directions: Daryl becoming softer, Carol becoming tougher. And in between, they had found each other… her showing him he had a heart, a good one actually, him making her believe she was far away from being an useless bitch. That beautiful bond between them, that genuine friendship, Daryl couldn't deny they had begun to fill it with something else too, something he wasn't familiar with and that scared him almost as much as thinking about that huge herd Carol might step into if she wasn't cautious. For him, it started to happen maybe after Sophia came out from the barn, in the form of a desperate need to protect her first, but then it'd been his eyes lingering over her a little longer than necessary, his attempts to fight the idiot grin that spreaded on his lips whenever she teased him and flirted with him, like that first night in the prison. And during these last 6 months, in which the false sensation of peace and calm had taken over the whole group, they'd grown even closer, to the point that whenever he wasn't hunting or going on runs or she wasn't teaching the kids, they'd simply spent their times together. They'd take watch, talking about all sorts of stuff or just sitting in silence next to the other, and he wouldn't flinch no more whenever she made physical contact with him, which came usually as a gentle pat on his shoulder or a small hug… there were times she'd even lay on his lap, her eyes closed, and he'd take the opportunity to study each of her features as the night went by, maybe even gently stroke her hair if he was feeling bold. That urge he didn't quite understand had also grown along with their relationship and sometimes he'd even seriously considered shoving her against a wall and just let it go.

...

Daryl thought one of the reasons he was prepared for surviving in a zombie apocalypsis was his ability of thinking about many things at once. So less than a few hours ago when he was fighting not to punch Rick to death, he'd also been trying to figure out back in his head in which direction Carol might have gone. The first thing he came out with was the farm, of course. Simply because Sophia's grave was in there, keeping whatever remained of her. But then he remembered her words: 'that's not my Sophia, that's some other… thing', and he changed his mind. He started to freak out as he realized Carol had never been out there much, so she probably didn't know about the best places to head to, if there was such thing as a good place to hit if you were on your own too. He figured it'd been 5 or 6 hours since Rick left her, so she could be any fucking where, and he decided the best thing to do was going to that cul-de-sac and trying to track her from there.

He pulled away from the road when he reached the neighborhood where Rick and Carol had spent their last moments together, feeling he needed to calm down and think straight for a few seconds, the realization of how difficult and even unlikely finding Carol was going to be hitting him hard. Walkers were all around and they were even more than in the daylight, probably fond of the dark and night as most creepy creatures. 'FUCKK!' he growled, which caught the attention of a few that started to head in his direction, but he quickly stabbed two of them with his knife before jumping on his bike again.

SInce he couldn't think of a better plan, he just drove along the highway Carol might have taken, checking in every turn-off that leaded to small house groupings or villages to see whether she'd found shelter in one of them. It was close night by now and there was still no sight of her, or of any living thing for that matter. He was starting to get frustated, cold sweat running down his temple and his eyelids growing heavy; after all he had been on that stressfull run and he was exhausted, but he couldn't stop right now. There was the chance she'd decided to keep going and she'd be too far gone by the morning if he did.

And then he heard it. A loud, constant noice coming from his left. He stopped the bike and tilted his head as to hear better: someone was playing damn loud rock music somewhere nearby. He inmediately started the bike and took the perpendicular road from where the music was coming. He recognized the place even before the first houses appeared: it was that small village Rick and Glenn had gone to find Hershel that day they bumped into Randall and the other guys. He had even been there himself, once or twice in search for supplies, but it'd been so long ago and so many things'd happened, it felt like the memory belonged to some other life of his.

Music was becoming louder and he finally sighted the source of noise: right there in the middle of the street, in front of the local pub there was a car- her car, the car Rick had left her with-, with some cd playing, doors wide opened, including the trunk's, and a bunch of 20 or 25 walkers all around it. And he smirked, for the first time in the whole day. Smart, he thought, as he tried to slowly approach, because there was also the chance someone else had caught her or something, or that she'd had to run for some reason. He breathed in relief when he saw only one pair of footsteps that went from the driver's seat to the corner of the road. And they were pretty fresh, too. He thought the music was actually a blessing since the walkers weren't able to hear him right there on his bike, and he drove to the road's corner to check where the footsteps went from there. Oh damn yea, he thought. They continued to the left and leaded right to a front yard.

Front door was locked. Good sign, definitely. He walked to the back of the house and saw a window that apparently led to the kitchen. The glass was broken and he barely fitted in, but he quickly jumped and sneaked inside, silently cursing as some glass splinters pierced his skin. The room was absolutely dark and he held his lantern on his mouth, knife on his left hand and crossbow on his back as he cautiuosly walked in. The kitchen led to a living room and he spotted to walkers laying on the floor right next to the front door, so he headed towards them and leaned in. They had been taken down with a knife pretty recently, fresh blood still spreading from one of the walker's temples. His heart started to beat faster as he recreated the scene on his head. She might have stepped inside the house, probably ready to fight one Walker or two… first one went down easily but he could tell from the tracks she had struggled a little with the second. It had to be Carol… there was no other way. It was too much of a damn coincidence with her car outside and the same pair of footprints all over the room.

He followed the tracks and frowned in confusion as he realized they dissapeared right next to a big carpet. This was pretty fucking weird… unless… he anxiously kicked it away, and then he saw it: there was a basement in the house. Daryl smiled again. Damn woman wasn't only smart… she was also fucking lucky.

'Carol…' he whispered, his heart jumping out of his body just by the possibility of her appearing right in front of him in any second. He knocked the basement door lightly, leaning his ear against it, but he didn't hear a thing so he started to freak out, again. He couldn't help noticing how this was way too similar to that time back in the prison, when he'd found her hiding in the thombs, the exact same fear of what he might find when he opened the door running on his veins. Fuck it, he thought, and slowly lifted the door up.

He heard it then. A loud noise. And then another. He quickly slided down the basement, groping with his feet until he felt the stairs, and before he started to go down, he saw her, standing downwards, shakily holding a lantern in one hand, her knife in the other, her eyes wide and fixed on him, the pale skin of her face full of scracthes and bruises.

To touch her. It was the first thing he felt he needed to do after running downstairs. Touch her to see if this was real, if she was still real, standing right there in front of him, in one peace, alive. His eyes flicked all over her face as he tried to say something but couldn't manage his voice to come out; and apparently neither could she, because she was just staring at him, her lips parting as he slided his thumb down her cheekbone.

'Carol…', he mumbled then, and it was all it took. She collapsed against him, her arms wrapping around his neck as she bursted out crying a deep, painful cry.

'Shh..', he said, trying to hold back tears of his own that were threatening to come down his eyes too. 'Shh, it's ok… I found ya, it's ok'. He rested his chin on her head and softly stroked her hair, closing his eyes and letting the breath he'd been holding since he left the prison come out.