I want to apologise for taking some time to get back moving on this. My home life is a bit...tumultuous at the moment and now I'm also coming down with the flu. As I am half delirious, please let me know if you spy some errors. I really need to go have a sleep! I have started on the next chapter so it should be out in a few days. It will most likely be the final chapter.

Chapter Seven

Daryl hadn't stopped shaking all the way back to the prison. He needed to check her for scratches and bites, the vivid visual of one of those walkers falling in an ungainly heap on top of her as she attempted to shield Michonne scorched terrifyingly in his brain. There was a tightness in his chest he couldn't shift, a sting in his eyes that blinking didn't eradicate but he held it in as the bike rumbled up to the gate, worried faces greeting him as their little caravan of vehicles re-entered largely empty for their troubles, hours ahead of schedule.

He gave her time to reconcile what had happened after sending Hershel to check her thoroughly, not trusting himself to hold his temper after the revelation that had knocked him flat. The truth was, he needed a minute to get his own head together. The chill within the prison walls bit into his skin and he shivered, closing his eyes and replaying the afternoon over, a movie reel of events that were surreal with how close it had all been to coming to an end. Running once again those words—her wrong damned assumptions through his head.

Carol thought he and Michonne were lovers.

A bubble of humourless laughter coiled up inside of him until he couldn't restrain it, bursting out of him in one sharp, short surprise. He followed it up with bitter, angry tears. Daryl felt like he'd been fighting for so long to rebuild a friendship he never quite understood how it had got lost…now he knew, and he couldn't believe Carol had jumped to such a conclusion. It made him angry and it stuck to his insides like slime—cold, ugly and invasive. It filled him with a fire of fury that he could barely contain within the walls of his cell.

He'd been pacing like a caged animal for a good half hour. He was going crazy with the loop-de-loop in his head of seeing Carol go down beneath that walker, finding irrational anger fighting its way out at Michonne for letting herself get caught in the first place. It was meant to be a simple run, a good run, and in the space of half a minute everything he had left to live for in this shitty end-of-times world was almost ripped right out of his hands. He'd wanted to force her onto the back of his bike so he could be reassured she was alive with the presence of her body heat against his back as he took them home to safety—he wanted to know she was near him and that he'd be the one on hand to protect her should she need it, only she thought he wanted Michonne in his bed. Not her. His stomach turned violently.

How the hell could she even think that's what he wanted? How could she think he'd turned from her that much when he'd barely looked at the other woman as anything but a friend?

But Carol was always a friend.

A tortured wail worked its way loose in his throat and as he admitted to himself how thoroughly he'd fucked it all up, he kicked the cell wall before slumping against it, his arm bracing against it and his head depositing more sweat on his filthy arm. He was shit at this romantic crap, always had been and always would be. He'd given up long ago letting himself succumb to softer feelings that might end up shaming him or leaving him exposed to some bitch. Relationship had long been a dirty word he'd never even bothered contemplating trying it out and seeing if he could get some woman to stick to him. Carol was…she was a whole other world to him and he often wondered if it was even one that he could recognise. He'd tried to work up the courage once before to approach her and lay it all out there, risk her laughing at him and sending him away by telling her how he felt. Some days he couldn't breathe right when he got caught in the lure of her eyes, the joy she found in the simplest things passing its way across the distance until he could feel it in himself, leaving him awed at her power to transfix and transcend the ugly hopelessness this world seemed to offer in spades. He'd chickened out. Of course. Anything of worth trying for and he ran a million miles from it. He didn't know who he was kidding pretending he did shit only on his terms, because she'd influenced his every move since they'd lost Sophia on the side of the road. The only time she hadn't was when he'd gone looking for vengeance, his heart beating only a rhythm of death for the one that took his brother so callously from his life, and he recognised now how big a mistake it had been. He'd gained nothing by being so single-minded in his objective, and lost a whole lot besides.

He'd done all the running he was going to. It was time to stand on his own two feet and withstand whatever got thrown at him, to let the ricochet of affection from people that were once strangers but now his family fill his heart. This was his final chance to change who he was, to be someone that cared more about others than himself. Cared more about her than anyone else in the prison. He didn't know why she thought he was bumping uglies with Michonne, but she was going to learn how wrong she was, and while he was at it he figured it was about time he grew a set and made his real intentions known. No more of this subtle crap. If his approach was ham-fisted and awkward, so be it. She knew who he was and she'd either take him or tell him to go fuck himself—though knowing Carol she'd be more of a lady about it. For what felt like the first time all day, he grinned with something resembling genuine relief, his heart accelerating until he almost scared himself with the level of excitement and hope that came with making such a decision. Now he just had to hope his declaration didn't kill him or send the woman he wanted running even faster than he had.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Carol's generous effort to help Michonne into the cell block had her questioning her own mind. She hadn't been able to force down that shield she'd built so carefully between herself and Daryl, and now Michonne was staring at her, huge eyes as sticky as molasses boring so deeply into her that Carol felt so exposed and vulnerable she might as well scream and get it over with.

Michonne limped slowly toward Cell Block C, hobbling up the stairs at the rate that would rival the eldest of the Woodbury residents and yet still lose, and surely it was made worse by Michonne's intent observation of her that left Carol feeling tinglingly sick.

"You should have left me there," she said at last and the relief at hearing the woman's voice had Carol's knees weak, despite the meaning behind them.

"We don't leave people behind," Carol reminded automatically, trumping out the worn and true pact the whole group had exercised so thoroughly all those long months on the road after the farm when too often one would end up in a precarious position, an unlikely escape staring them down. All of them had had at least one opportunity to save somebody else, and so now it was Michonne's turn. Carol's mouth tightened, preparing for the argument about to come her way. She knew the other woman's type, it was just another side of the same coin that Carol embodied so well. She also knew that the self-styled warrior was too late. Trying to hold them all at arm's length would achieve nothing when everyone had already taken her into their hearts.

"You should have left me there," she ground out with a low hiss of pain as she put a little too much weight on her twisted ankle. "You could have got yourself killed."

Carol stopped walking, stopped upholding any of the pretence of patience she'd so far successfully adopted each time she was around Michonne lately.

"If I'd left you there, you'd be dead right now," Carol pointed out bluntly, a frown settling and twisting around her mouth. It wasn't often that the truth didn't hurt, but this time it should have made the woman shed a tear or two in gratitude.

"It was stupid," Michonne imparted with self-derision, her blunt honesty not appreciated by Carol in the slightest.

"And so is being a martyr and dying when you don't need to," Carol snapped back, forcing her arm back around the other woman and a little rougher than she might have before the morose lack of gratitude for risking her own neck. "Daryl doesn't need to lose anyone else." The confession made her mouth feel like it was filled with coal and the bile that surged up at the most unpleasant truth nearly choked her.

"Daryl doesn't need to lose you." Michonne recommenced movement, maintaining a strong grip on the stair railing and Carol clenched her teeth to stop the tears that always threatened when she least wanted to acknowledge them. She bit her lip, stared at the step beneath her feet, and then she swallowed hard, accepting whatever she needed to do to just get the other woman inside.

"Like I said," Carol choked out, the words and thoughts unpleasant and painful. "Daryl doesn't need to lose anyone else."

She moved on, not waiting for Michonne and in fact if the other woman hadn't made the slightest effort to commence climbing the stairs, Carol might well have dragged her to the top. She huffed and puffed her way there and then when they got to the top, both of them were winded, burning muscles for Carol and pain-induced misery for Michonne. The prison behind them was a clutter of noise, but the door still gave them a degree of privacy and Michonne's eyes burned as they focused on her. She took her time, waiting until she had Carol's undivided attention before she nodded, smiled kindly, then proceeded to drop her bombshell.

"You know Daryl and I aren't lovers, right? He's never thought of me like that. Only you."

The blunt words fell heavily on her heart and Carol paused, unable to move, unable to think. Her first impulse was to reject the words as a lie, to brush past Michonne and let her make the rest of the way on her own, but then the words weaved a little into her head and they tugged at the one thing she'd pushed down so hard that she didn't think it could ever be enticed back out: hope.

The moment demanded honesty and Carol took a deep breath, closed her eyes to centre herself, and when she finally felt well enough prepared for this confrontation, her lids slid open and she clashed with the intent mocha brown eyes that had never attempted to subterfuge before. Eyes that had been honest in every dealing the two women had ever had.

"Don't play with me." She was proud of how steady her voice was, how the phrase had come out without accusation but strong enough to be taken seriously. Carol was no longer some pawn in this new game of life and she was going to make sure everyone knew it, starting with Daryl's newest fighting partner.

"I wouldn't." Michonne leaned against the door, apparently not even caring that Glenn or someone could attempt to throw it open, effectively knocking her back down the steps. It took a real measure of confidence to not care about getting hurt and Carol frowned at her, wondering if that might be a lesson she could take away with her.

"I heard him, in your cell one night. He was talking about how he thought he was in love and that you were a bitch for giving him shit about it." Unbidden, Carol's lips curled up into a sad smile, knowing without having seen his face that Daryl would have been pissed that his feelings were exposed and the recipient was making fun of him for it. But then he'd thrown a clumsy joke at Michonne, laughed right alongside her and Carol knew to walk away fast before anything happened that she truly didn't wish to hear.

"You heard it wrong." Switching her intense stare for a moment to sweep across the yard, Michonne sucked in a breath and then allowed her body to truly relax, her shoulders slumping as if she was about to betray a trust she sorely didn't want to but found no other choice offered before her. As soon as the words formed on her lips, her focus was back on Carol. Carol shivered as if a breeze had fought its way beneath her jacket, but instead it was a sense of foreboding that was unravelling her tight hold on her assumptions.

"How could I have heard it wrong?" The plea was there, no longer hidden as what Michonne offered filtered through and Carol grasped hold of it without hardly even thinking on why she wanted to. Daryl had hurt her by turning his back, had convinced her he no longer cared when he had the enigmatic Michonne for constant company weeks at a time. She'd surrendered up all the tenderness her heart had created for him and she'd locked herself away, not wanting to drown in the hurt that came with inevitable loss, whether the person was dead to you or just moving on with someone else. It hurt to contemplate she might have had it all wrong. Not only for the wasted time, but because it roared through a well of need that had fought to grow when it had been forced to lay dormant within her heart for so very long. And it had all been unnecessary. "He chose you," she almost wailed, choking off at the last minute before she betrayed herself any further. 'Not me,' was right there in her head, on the tip of her tongue, and no matter what Michonne said, Carol couldn't let go of the very real truth that Daryl had walked out those gates time and time again with Michonne without a backward glance, and when he did finally choose to seek her out, Carol was convinced she'd retained no more importance to him than any other member of their family …convinced that if he ever had been, Daryl was no longer being hers. And while it hurt to think she was wrong and that he'd never loved the dark woman before her, herself struggling to find a niche within their group, Carol had to wonder if it was all too late anyway. If what was done should stay done.

"He didn't—"

"It doesn't matter," Carol interrupted, resolve hardening her stance. And as she ignored Michonne's protests against being manhandled inside, Carol knew that it truly didn't. The choice had been made long ago and whether Carol jumped the gun on what it meant, too much time had passed for it to matter now. She'd forgotten the other woman's strength, however, and as her hand encircled her arm, holding Carol on the spot before they entered fully the space flooded with the remainder of the people in the whole world that they knew, Michonne moved in closer, the light in her eyes more menacing than Carol suspected the situation warranted.

"It does matter, and if it doesn't then it should. Daryl followed me because of grief—"

"Grief he'd rather share with you,' Carol interrupted, the lancing wound of Daryl's choice still open and festering.

"No," Michonne denied hotly, her fingers tightening fractionally on Carol's arms so that they pinched.

"He didn't share one word of how he felt with me, not about Merle. Not about you until I started teasing about how he'd throw your name into the dark most nights around the fire. The only thing he spoke of for the longest time was you. Carol is the best at cooking squirrel. Damn, this hole is getting so big, where's Carol when you need her? You know, Carol understands everyone of the group—always knows the right shit to say. Carol's perfect, Carol's wonderful blah blah blah." Michonne pulled a face, like the whole topic turned her stomach, but then she absolutely beamed and Carol almost stumbled over backwards with the shock. "That man loves you so hard and for the longest time he didn't even know it. I just made it my job to set him straight." The grin slipped, her fingers loosened and Carol pulled her arm free, but she was beholden to the situation, committed to hearing the woman out to the end, holding her breath because the impact of words like love were causing a breathlessness she hadn't experienced since she was a teenager. "I was selfish." Michonne nodded, as if she'd said something out loud that she'd only vaguely thought on before and that now the words had hit the air, she had no other choice but to agree with them. "I was selfish holding onto him when I could see you were pulling away. I thought I needed him to help me find the Governor…I thought his grief couldn't be alleviated unless he took that life. I was wrong." Her eyes glowed bright with the sheen of tears, only Carol didn't know if it was from the woman's continuing pain over losing Andrea or from guilt that she may have caused irrevocable damage to Daryl's love life. "Getting you back was more important to Daryl than ever avenging his brother's death…" She paused, her stillness electrifying. "As it should be."

She pulled away then, using the wall as a crutch until she managed to make it into the belly of the tomb and Rick of all people rushed forward to help her. Carol noticed there were no objections coming from the warrior, no claims that she should have been left to die as she allowed Rick to bear her weight and lead her to her cell. A sad smile touched Carol's lips and it lingered until Daryl's boots on the metal steps across the room rang through the space and the look of furious temptation on his face chilled her blood right in her veins.