Chapter 3

"That was good," Carol said quietly, handing Daryl her plate.

"You don't gotta lie," he snorted.

"No, really. It wasn't that bad," she promised, watching as he set the plates off to the side to deal with later. "It was better than stale potato chips and questionable jerky." Daryl saw the smile creep up on her lips before she closed her eyes, leaned her head back and winced in pain.

"Here. Swallow these," Daryl said quietly, handing her the water jug and a couple of pills. "Your fever's breakin', but just to be on the safe side, you should take 'em for a few days." Carol nodded, doing as Daryl had told her, and when she passed the water jug back to him, she sighed.

"I killed two people."

"I know."

"And you're just…ok with it?"

"I told you," he said quietly. "I know ya had your reasons."

"And you…you just accept it?" She blinked then, as if trying to process this. She'd expected Rick to be angry, but she hadn't expected him to just leave her on her own, tell her he wouldn't have her around his kids, tell her that the group wouldn't want her there. And as she'd driven away that day, a part of her had believed it. The group followed Rick, and they always would, and his decision was what counted, even if he'd given up making decisions for everybody. He'd made the choice for himself, and she'd had to accept that. She'd killed two people, and there was no bringing them back.

"They were dyin'," he said quietly. "Wouldn't have made it 'til we got back with the medicine. Woulda died. Might've made others sick. I get it." He watched as she took a deep breath and leaned her head back.

"They might have lived," she said quietly. "Maybe they would have. Maybe I wasn't thinking."

"You were thinkin'," he said quietly. "We've put folks down for bein' bit, 'cause they asked us. This wasn't no different. They were gonna die. Patrick died, and a whole cell block was wiped out. You stepped up."

"And now they're all dead anyway," Carol murmured. "Or they could be." She looked down at her hands folded neatly in her lap. "They could still be out there."

"If they are, they could be anywhere," Daryl said quietly. "Can't risk runnin' into a herd tryin' to find 'em. Soon as you're better, we're gonna find a car. You had a car?"

"I did," she said with a nod. "But when I saw the smoke and went back to the prison…it was surrounded. It's not an option."

"A'right," he murmured, chewing the inside of his lip. "We'll figure somethin' out. Gonna get you and them girls someplace safe."

"You don't have to take care of me," Carol pointed out quietly.

"I know," he murmured, looking away when he felt his cheeks burning. "I shoulda come after you. The second Rick told me, I shoulda…"

"Don't blame yourself for that. You did what you had to do. I made a choice with Karen and David, and I accepted the consequences. That wasn't on you."

"He took you out there, left you by yourself, 'cause he knew if I was there, I never woulda let him do it. M'sorry I wasn't there." Carol swallowed hard then, trying to put together the pieces of what he'd just said. "He was wrong." Carol felt the tears stinging her eyes then, and she blinked them back. "What happened, happened. Ain't no fixin' it. Ain't nobody's hands clean. We've all done things we ain't proud of, but that's life now. You gotta fight to live, or you die. You keep livin'. That's all there is now."

Her hand moved then, moving over his, and she gently curled her fingers with his. His gaze fixed on hers, and she gave him a sad little smile.

"When I was driving away," she said quietly, "all I could think about was how you saw me. How you knew me. Even back at the quarry. You saw what I needed when Ed died. You stepped back and handed that ax over, and you let me have what I needed. I had this gnawing, nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that maybe you would think…and that I couldn't explain…" Her voice broke then, and Daryl gave her fingers a squeeze.

"Hey," he murmured, "I ain't goin' nowhere." He scooted closer to her on the bed, bringing his hand to her cheek, brushing his thumb over the arch of her cheek. "We all changed in that prison. This world changes you. But I still see you." Carol gasped softly, placing her hand over his, and it was then that he something change in her eyes. Every moment, every missed opportunity where he'd wanted to say something or even do something and he'd lost the nerve, thought that she couldn't possibly want the same thing, every thought he'd bit back out of fear of it coming out wrong was reeling through his head. And he couldn't miss another moment. He couldn't. He'd almost lost her.

Everything Merle had ever ragged on him about and made him feel like next to nothing, every horrible, awful attempt at a relationship in his life, and every sweat-inducing fear of rejection he'd had his whole life weighed against this decision, but he couldn't stop himself. He couldn't. And it scared the hell out of him.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was pressing his mouth against hers, and she was sighing against his mouth, curling her fingers into his hair, and it was everything. It was everything he'd ever imagined it could be but more. It was like coming up for air and catching on fire, a perfect mix of finally and what now and please don't ever let go.

Her hand moved from his hair then, gently sliding down his neck, fingernails scraping gently there before she began to pull away. He leaned into her then, chasing her mouth with his own, not willing to be apart from her yet. She smiled, opening her eyes to see the way his lips parted and how he gasped for breath. His face was pink, and his lips were slightly swollen, and her fingers curled into the neck of his shirt.

"I didn't think you'd ever do that," she admitted, getting him to open his eyes and stare back at her. "I'm glad you did." She smiled a little as he finally pulled back. Daryl cleared his throat then, scooting back slightly on the bed. "Hey. You don't have to go. You didn't do anything wrong." Daryl looked at her, chewing his lip for a moment, and she smiled. God, that smile. She could smile despite the grave circumstances they were facing, and it could still make his heart race. "What does this mean?"

"Dunno," he murmured quietly, racing his finger along the pattern of the quilt. "Just wanted to do that in case I don't get the chance again." Carol leaned in this time, pressing her lips to his forehead and then to his mouth.

"Good," she said with a smile. "I'm glad we got that out of the way. Maybe when I'm feeling better, we can do some other things we should have done a long time ago." Her voice was teasing, and Daryl snorted, but he felt a stirring deep in his belly anyway.

"Stop," he muttered, and Carol gently dragged her fingers through his hair again.

"You should go check on the girls," she said quietly.

"Alright," he said with a nod. He got up and started for the door.

"Daryl?"

"Yeah?"

"We can't stay here. You know that, right? We have to keep moving."

"You lost too much blood. We're stayin' put 'til you're feelin' better."

"Daryl…"

"I ain't discussin' it. I'm tellin' you. We ain't goin' nowhere 'til you're strong enough." His tone was firm this time, and she nodded her head. He meant what he said, and if she knew anything about stubborn men, there was no use in arguing with them. Right now, she was too exhausted to argue, so she simply nodded and lay back against the mattress, closing her eyes and praying the pain in her arm would soon subside.

...

Lizzie and Mika had curled up on the old couch to sleep, leaving the bed to Carol so she could be more comfortable. Daryl slept on the floor behind the couch, while Judith slept peacefully in the dresser drawer, completely unaware of the situation she was in, of the world she'd been born into.

"Lizzie? Are you asleep?"

"Yes," Lizzie groaned.

"No you're not," Mika sighed. "I can't sleep."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you."

"Can you tell me a story?"

"I'm too tired for a story," Lizzie grumbled, burying her face into the back of the couch, sighing heavily as she struggled to try to get back to sleep.

"Lizzie?"

"What?"

"I have to go."

"Go where?"

"I have to go."

"Take the flashlight and your knife."

"Can you go with me?" Mika asked, getting up off the couch. Lizzie didn't respond. With a frown, Mika pulled her knife into her hand and reached around blindly for the flashlight she knew she'd put by the couch before they'd all settled down to sleep. She found it in moments and made her way to the door. Quietly, she lifted the latch and let herself outside, where the only sound she could hear was the symphony of crickets accompanied by the rustling leaves in the cool breeze.

Every scratch of leaf against tree bark could have been that walker at the fence coming for her. Every hoot of an owl could have been a warning of danger. The shivered, wrapping one arm around her middle while she kept her knife poised in her other hand.

She quickly made her way to a small group of bushes to do her business, and when she was finished, she hurried back to the cabin, breath catching in her chest as she let fear get the better of her.

Just as she was reaching for the door knob, the door swung open, and a bright light flooded her face. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

"The hell you doin' out here?" Daryl growled, pulling her inside the cabin. "You tryin' to get yourself killed?"

"I had to go," Mika whimpered, her trembling voice softening Daryl's hardened expression.

"You ain't t'go out there by yerself at night. Let somebody know. Tell your sister next time." Mika glanced over at Lizzie's sleeping form and sighed. It was no use. Grownups always believed the bigger kids, anyway. Still, she could try.

"But I…"

"Just go back to sleep, Mika."

"Yes, sir," Mika said quietly, on the verge of tears. She moved over to the couch and got back in her spot, still warm from where she'd been laying before. Daryl paused in the room for a moment, turning back to make certain the door was locked. His feet slid against the wooden slats of floorboard as he approached the bedroom. He peered into the darkness, his gaze sliding over her sleeping form. He could hear her breathing, and he could see the rise and fall of her chest as she slept.

Feeling a little more secure that things were alright, he settled back down on his spot on the floor, leaning over to check on Judith once before he rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, willing himself to get to sleep.

He heard a soft moan from the bedroom, and he sat up quickly, pulling himself up and into the room. She was on her side, crying into the pillow.

"Carol?" he whispered, gently placing his hand on her elbow, being careful of her shoulder. "Carol?" She didn't respond. She was crying in her sleep, and he had no idea what to do to help her. "I'm here. S'alright. It's gonna be ok." His words were soft, almost silent. Her sobs stopped, and her ragged breaths became even and deep, and he felt the knots in his stomach slowly untwisting. He gave her arm a gentle squeeze before he lay down on the floor next to her bed, bunched up an old rug to use as a pillow and began a sleepless night of listening to her breathe.