A/N: The Walking Dead does not belong to me. The very minor characters of Rose (and eventually Bernard) used here belong to the creators of LOST. It is absolutely not necessary to have any idea who they are for this story. It's just that as I wrote, those were the characters I imagined filling the roles in my head. I figured I'd might as well call them by their names and give credit where it's due.

Thank you all for such lovely feedback. It's a huge encouragement to me!

The Long Road Home

It was light again when he woke. Stretching against the scratchy sheets of the clinic bed, he marveled at the fact that he'd probably slept more in the last two days than he had in the entire two months that had come before.

"Mornin', Sleepy," a voice greeted.

He looked over to find Carol folding sheets across the room. From all appearances, she'd been up, changed, and working for hours.

"Mornin'," he muttered, his voice still husky from sleep. He squinted at the light. "Time is it?"

He bit his tongue as soon as he spoke. The question was asked more out of old habit than anything else, since time in the hours and minutes sense didn't really matter much anymore. His thoughts rushed back to Rick, trying to hand him a battered woman's watch one terrible day after the prison fell. Trying to give him something to make up for the mistake that was done. Daryl had shattered it into the dirt.

Across the room, Carol just shrugged. "Still pretty early. Amazing what you can get done when you don't sleep in a chair." She fixed him with a teasing grin.

He realized then that she was putting new sheets on the bed she must have occupied the night before. He grunted his approval. "Told you so."

Fluffing a flattened pillow, she shook her head at his brand of gloating. "I'm almost done here. Ali will be in soon. Feel like heading over for some breakfast? Get out of this place for a little while?"

"Hell, yeah." Daryl didn't have to think hard about that. He'd been in the same three rooms for the last day and a half, and his skin was crawling with the need for movement and some fresh air.

Carol smiled at his eagerness and replaced a quilt. "Soon as Ali gets here, we'll go. It's just across the courtyard."

Daryl was already scrambling as quickly as his aching body would allow up from the bed. He headed toward the tiny closeted bathroom. Carol's voice floated behind him as he shut the door.

"I washed your poncho that first night. Should be dry. Make sure you put it on. Getting cold out there."

A short time later, they were leaving the building they'd entered that first night and stepping through the metal doors that led outside. A cold, bracing wind hit Daryl's cheek, and he squinted against the sunlight.

Carol stomped her feet on the cracked cement stairs and tugged to tighten the wrap of her coat. "Told you it was cold out."

"Feels good," he assured. His eyes teared a bit in the bite of the wind.

They stepped out into the courtyard, where it appeared that the residents of this place were just starting their day. Daryl took a moment to try to get his bearings. It looked much different in the daylight. Less imposing. Fewer shadows. More... something he couldn't identify. Brick buildings a few stories tall dotted the area, although only four appeared to be enclosed inside the ragged wall that protected the settlement. The rest of the buildings stood outside the enclosure and, therefore, remained outside of protection. He tried to formulate what exactly he wanted to ask and settled on, "What is this place?"

Carol set an easy pace through the narrow strip of grass that separated the buildings. "Used to be some kind of little Christian College. Really not much more than a boarding school, but there was already a partial fence around the campus when the first ones here found it. It's why they thought it'd be a good place to try and stay." She gestured across the way. "We've got one building of what used to be dorms cleared and inside the wall. That's the taller one. Then there's the three smaller office and classroom buildings we use for the clinic and food and storing supplies."

Looking around, Daryl had to admit he was impressed. The wall seemed sturdy enough, and the buildings, with their ancient bricks, were strong too. "Good set-up," he commented. "How many people?"

She nudged him toward a side door. "About seventy inside the main wall. Another forty or so in the temporary camp that's fenced in just outside. Hoping to clear another one of the dorms soon so we can take more people in. Seems like more come every day. We need the space."

"Why ain't it cleared yet?"

She offered him a wry smile as they entered the building. "Manpower. Most of what we've got are old or young, or can't handle the work for one reason or another. We've got four buildings enclosed as it is. No point in clearing another dorm until the protection can be expanded around it." She pointed across the way. Daryl could just see an offshoot extending from the main brick wall and aiming toward one of the taller structures. "They'll circle that offshoot around the dorm so once it's cleared, it'll stay that way. Then they'll knock down the inner part of the fence and the settlement will have expanded." She crooked her head. "At least that's the plan...First priority is to keep everyone alive. Extending the wall out there in the open takes a while."

As they entered a set of double doors, he could smell breakfast, whatever it was, drawing near. His stomach gurgled its anticipation.

"Right through here," Carol held open another door, and they entered what must have once been some sort of a lounge. Men, women, and more than a few children occupied the scarred formica tables. At the head of the room, a line was forming next to a cafeteria style window.

"Carol!" A young boy, no more than about ten came hobbling over. Daryl quickly realized that there was something wrong with his leg, but the kid didn't seem to care much one way or the other.

"Luke," she greeted the boy with a smile, crouching down to look at him level in the eye. "You minding your aunt?"

The kid nodded. A woman whom Daryl assumed must be the aunt approached them. She eyed Daryl with brief suspicion before offering him a cautious nod. Turning to the boy, she patted his shoulder. "Time to get going," she gave Carol a knowing look.

Carol straightened the collar of the kid's coat. "Keep working on that math, okay?" The kid rolled his eyes, and Daryl couldn't blame him. Carol smiled anyway. "Be good," she reminded him with a wink. Luke left with his aunt and Carol turned back to Daryl. "He's a good kid." She bit her lip as she watched him hobble away. "Broke his leg in a fall when it all started. Never healed right, so he's got that limp." As they made their way to the front of the line, Carol handed Daryl a plate from the waiting stack. "Good kid, though." She inhaled as if to ask Daryl something, but appeared to change her mind as she shook her head and turned to the food.

There were so many things she was terrified to ask. So many things he dreaded having to say. So very many things they tried so very hard to avoid. Still, Daryl knew, they couldn't wait forever.

When they reached the head of the thickening line, Daryl accepted some thankfully warm oatmeal from an older woman with dark, coffee colored skin behind the counter whom Carol greeted as Rose. He was beginning to realize she knew everyone here, or at least it seemed that way to him. Turning from the counter, he realized the room had filled somewhat since they came in. A strange arm brushed against his own. The buzz of conversations and closeness of more people than he'd seen in the last year caused his jaw to clench. He sidestepped a burly man. His breathing picked up noticeably, and his shoulders lifted with tension. Panic climbed through his chest as his eyes widened, looking for an escape.

"Daryl?" He started at the small white hand that came to rest with a feather weight on his arm. Carol's blue eyes met his with concern.

He tried to force himself to slow his breaths. Tried to fight down the panic. Carol stepped slightly closer, blocking his view of the rest of the room. His hand was sweaty as it gripped his plate. The line behind them continued to grow. The humming buzz seemed somehow overwhelming. He forced himself to focus. "'M fine."

She continued to watch him with those steady eyes. A knowing realization crossed her face. "Let's go take this outside," she offered him a tiny smile to which he nodded gratefully.

Daryl focused on her narrow back as they made their way back through the crowd. Finally, they were outside again. He could feel his shoulders fall as the cold air filled his lungs and finally there was space. The droning hum of voices silenced until all he heard was the wind.

Carol led them over to a set of stairs and raised an eyebrow in question. Wordlessly nodding his agreement, he sat on the cracked cement. She followed suit, and they began to eat.

Carol inhaled and tipped her head back as if to study the cloudless sky. "Was hard for me to adjust at first, too."

He eyed her sideways as he ate.

She lowered her head back down and swallowed a bite of flavorless oatmeal. "All those people. All of them new." She took another spoonful and chewed thoughtfully. "I was so used to being alone…to seeing any other person as a threat." She sighed. "Lot different in here from being out there alone."

She knew. She understood. But then again, she always had.

He nodded slightly and continued to eat. The cold air burned in his lungs, a glorious, filling feeling until it made him choke. As he coughed and tried to pull in air, Carol steadied the bowl in his hand. One hand found his back as together they waited it out. When he'd calmed enough, she withdrew her arm. "Maybe the cold air wasn't such a good idea." Her forehead crinkled in concern.

He couldn't help but notice the way her face turned with worry. "Nah, just went down the wrong pipe." He gestured to his bowl.

The look on her face told him she wasn't fooled for a second, but she let it pass. They finished the meal without incident. Daryl waited outside while she returned the dishes back into the settlement's makeshift cafeteria. When she reappeared again, they began to walk.

It didn't take long for her to show him the perimeter gates and the rest of the buildings. He got the feeling she kept the tour intentionally short, and he kicked himself for his coughing fit earlier. Before long, they were back at the doors to the brick building that housed the clinic and other storage. He moved to follow her in, but Carol lingered just outside with her hand on the metal door. She made a comment here or there about nothing important at all before drifting into an uncomfortable silence.

Carol shielded her eyes against the sun and squinted at Daryl. She inhaled, then stopped. Biting her lip, she studied him, then the ground, then Daryl again. She swallowed and fidgeted with the fraying cuff of her oversized coat.

"You gonna tell me what's eatin' ya?" Obviously, there was something on her mind. Something she wanted to cover before they headed back into that tiny clinic room. Something he may or may not want to hear. He worried for a minute that she'd changed her mind about wanting him to stay. He worried she'd ask one of those questions he just couldn't stand to hear let alone voice a response.

She bit her lip and peered nervously at him. "Did you mean what you said last night? 'Bout staying?" Daryl's stomach dropped at her words, and she looked down. "I know it's not much here, but...At least for a while. I just thought..." She trailed off, and relief flooded him. She wasn't telling him to go. In fact, to his unsure ears, it sounded an awful lot like she was asking him, again, to stay.

He shuffled his feet, scuffing them against the cracked cement. "I meant it."

"Okay." She nodded a quiet smile.

Daryl surveyed the camp outside the main fence. "Be fine to stay in the camp tonight."

Her face fell. "No," she said quickly.

"Shoulder's fine."

"It's that cough I'm worried about. Sleeping outside on the cold ground is what started that in the first place."

"That and a pack a day since I was 'bout fifteen."

She narrowed her eyes, but a bit of a smile crept onto her lips. "And that's gonna end if it hasn't already," she chided. "Really, though," and her eyes turned serious. "Cough like that could get bad if you don't take care of it. Pneumonia, lung infections... I've seen it before. It's pretty common now. I don't know how to treat all of that. Sometimes the drugs we have don't work."

She looked so scared that Daryl found himself eager to do anything to bring back the teasing smile. "Fine," he huffed. "I'll stay inside."

Carol smiled in relief. "Good. I'll see about getting you a room in the dorm."

"Thought those were only for ones what could contribute."

Her face darkened into something like determination. "You will."

Daryl shrugged as he turned to scan the landscape beyond the fence. Hard as it was to admit, he'd barely been surviving these last couple months. His shoulder wasn't in the greatest shape, and he'd had that aching cough for longer than he could remember. "Not exactly a hundred percent."

Carol cocked her head to the side and studied him with a shrewd glare. "I know you better than that. If you're not out there hunting or going on runs within a week I'd be surprised. Whether you should be or not."

Again, he shrugged.

She softened her tone. "You've always done more than anyone else. Worked harder…done more. Some things don't change in time." The words were spoken quietly, but with a determination that took his breath. Heat crawled up the back of his neck, and he blushed lightly at her words. He remembered that night back on the farm. Her in the doorway standing over his bed.

Sensing that she'd embarrassed him, Carol turned to open the metal door leading back to the clinic. "I've got to go see what Ali's done with the place." She paused on the top stair to study him as he stood below. "And you," she smirked slightly at his upturned face. "You need some tea."

With a huff and the barest edge of a smile, he followed her in.