Daryl buried his head into the crook of Carol's neck. Each sob made his chest heave and chug like an engine trying to turn over, struggling from years of disuse. He didn't care that everyone behind him was watching - in truth he barely registered it it – she was here, alive, and whole, his best friend and confidant; the first person with whom he truly let his guard down.
Pulling back, he placed his hand along her jawline and titled her face up.
"Aw, look at ya, " he whispered, as his thumb slid along her cheek, using her own tears to wipe away the grime on her face. "You did all this?" She nodded, and pride surged in his chest.
The sound of a zipper being pulled apart and metallic clinking turned their attention back to the rest of the group. Rick had uncovered the duffle bag of guns and rations he had hidden before they had entered Terminus. He distributed the supplies among the survivors, and Carol, stepping forward, opened her own pack to revel several handguns.
"I took these from their store rooms," She address Rick quietly, holding the pack out to him like an offering. Rick met her eyes and nodded slowly.
"Thank you," He said finally. "I'm glad you're back." Daryl knew in that moment that what had happened at the Prison was forgiven. Carol's exile was over.
"Come with me," Carol said with a small smile. "I have something to show you."
Beth followed the crowd as mindlessly as she had when they rushed from the boxcar a half hour previously. She was dimly aware that Carol was taking them somewhere, and that Rick wanted to track down any survivors of Terminus, and that Abraham was very vocally insisting they find a ride and head to DC, but her usually sharp mind seemed unable to interpret any of this information. But then, they were coming to a little shack in the woods, and Tyreese was standing in the doorway with a small bundle held carefully in his arms...
Rick was sprinting forward, Carl at his heels, reaching for the gurgling baby. He scooped Judith into his arms as silent tears of joy filled his blue eyes. The baby reached up to tug at his beard as Carl beamed at his sister.
Beth felt then the first purely good emotion she had since before the attack at the campsite. It seemed to wake her from her stupor of the last 48 hours and she began to see the source of her anger, confusion and fear.
I thought I was strong. Isn't that what I told Daryl, that day at the still? That I was strong and that's why I survived. But it's not true, is it?
They were walking now, having resolved against returning to finish of the Terminus survivors, but following a set of train tracks in the opposite direction.
I thought I was strong because I stopped being scared when I saw a walker. I thought I was strong because I stopped crying when people died. I felt brave, shooting at the Governor and stabbing walkers through the holes in the fence. But I didn't know.
The group veered from the train tracks and began to trek through the woods, headed roughly north east by Eugene's estimation. It was past noon now, and they were beginning to be on the look out for a safe place to camp for the night.
I had no idea, really, what it's like to fight an enemy that can think for itself, one that's face to face with you. I didn't realize how easy it was for someone to overpower me, or just how much it takes to kill a person.
Fearful screams split the afternoon air. Carl, ignoring Rick, ran towards the sound with Daryl close behind him. The whole group was running now, unwilling to be split up.
I wasn't ready because Daddy held me back. He always had me workin' in the garden or watching the kids. He didn't even like me being on fence duty. I know he did it to protect me... but it just made me weaker.
Daryl, Carl, Michonne and Rick were making quick work of a half dozen walkers that had surrounded a large boulder. On top of the boulder, kicking at and scrambling from the reaching dead hands, was a man in a clergy shirt and collar.
It wasn't just Daddy though. When the Governor took Maggie and Glenn, I was the first one who said we should go after them. No one took me seriously. No one thought I could fight.
The clergyman called himself Father Gabriel. Rick asked him the three questions – how many walkers he had killed, how many people, and why. Father Gabriel claimed not the have killed anyone - because murder was a sin – and was met with Rick's skeptical evaluating stare. The Father offered to take them back to his church, and they began to follow cautiously, Michonne pulling her sword threateningly from it's sheath.
I almost didn't make it. I got lucky. But I'm done feeling guilty for fighting, and I'm done feeling scared. Daddy isn't here to hold me back. And I'm not going to be a burden.
Her mind was resolved as they came upon the little white church. It was a simple building, with a cupola and red tin roof. A crooked split-log fence marked the perimeter of the church yard.
Rick halted as they approached the building, and the few survivors who hadn't readied their weapons did so. As if they had coordinated hours ago, they split into separate groups – Abraham, Rosita, and Tara flanking the right side of the church, Glenn, Maggie and Carol taking the left. Rick, Carl and Daryl entered the building, guns and crossbow raised. Beth stood on alert with Sasha and Bob while Tyreese held Judith close to him.
When they were satisfied that no one else was in the church, Rick waved the rest of the group in.
"How'd ya survive alone this long?" Rick asked Father Gabriel. His search of the building had assured him that the Father had been alone, as least recently– there was only one blanket, laid out over a couch in the church office and no sign of any weapons or personal effects from anyone but Father Gabriel.
"I was lucky," Gabriel replied, with a contented smile that made Beth a little distrustful of him. " We had our annual canned food drive right before everything fell apart. My supplies are just now getting low; I was out scavenging for berries when you found me."
"So you've just been cooped up in here for a couple of years, eating canned food by yourself?" Carol sized him up.
"Yes," he said, the bland smile still fixed on his face.
"Do you know of anywhere we can get supplies? Any drugstores or grocery stores around here?" Maggie asked. Father Gabriel hesitated.
"Yes - maybe. There's a food bank in town. That's where the canned goods here were meant to go. But it's over run now."
"How many?"
"A dozen."
Rick snorted a little. "We can handle a dozen."
The shadow were growing long outside and Father Gabriel said he didn't think they could make it to town and back before dark. Not wanting to enter the food bank at night, it was decided that they would stay in the church and that Father Gabriel would take them to the food bank in the morning. The clergyman was visibly uncomfortable with this plan.
Rick had a few cans of food from the duffle bag outside of terminus and Tyreese produced a bag of pecans he had gathered after he and Carol fled the prison. The group helped themselves to the remainder of Father Gabriel's dwindling supplies – and, at his protests, Abraham promised they'd pay it back double after they scavenged the food bank.
"Unless it's all bullshit, you've got nothing to worry about," Abraham assured him. The clergyman winced a little at the profanity, but said nothing.
"So what do you think?" Carol asked Daryl softly. They were leaning against the interior walls of the church, watching the rest of the group eating and drinking the Communion wine. To Daryl's slight surprise, Father Gabriel had given them the wine without hesitation. He had said it wasn't holy until it was blessed, and that he had no use for it. Daryl held his own bottle by the neck, dangling it against his leg. "Is the Father just a wolf in sheep's clothing?"
"Everyone left can't all be assholes," was his reply. Carol scoffed a little at this, but made no reply.
Daryl had been watching her closely all day. He recognized her reclusive behavior, the arms length she kept the rest of the group at all day, as fear of being rejected if they all knew about the things she had done – both at the prison and after. The two of them had gone to fill the group's water jugs after they decided to stay the night at the church (Father Gabriel pointed them in the direction of a nearby stream). Daryl knew Carol well enough to know there was something she was hiding from him – some act she had committed that she thought even he would hold against her – and when he tried clumsily to talk to her she quickly shut him down.
Now his eyes were on Beth, who sat a little removed from the rest of the group on an old wooden pew. She no longer had the dazed expression that had marked her face since the attack outside Terminus, but she seemed very solemn and deep in thought.
Pulling himself from the wall, he walked up to the row behind her and tapped his wine bottle against her shoulder.
"Here. It'll go down a helluva lot smoother than shine."
She looked up at him, smiled briefly, and took the bottle. As she raise the bottle to her lips, Maggie's voice made them both jump.
"Beth!"
The blonde girl paused and met her sisters gaze, one eyebrow raised. Maggie looked shocked and a little disapproving.
"What are you doing? You don't drink." Maggie was standing up now, walking towards them. The attention of the group was on them now and Daryl felt his face flush. He hated how conspicuous this felt.
"I'm not sixteen anymore, Maggie," Beth rolled her eyes a little and took a sip.
"Daddy wouldn't want - "
"Daddy isn't here anymore, Maggie, and you aren't my mother!" Beth shot back. Her own face flushed as she realized how childish she sounded. Maggie opened her mouth to retort but Beth jumped in, working to lower her voice and speak more calmly.
"I'm not a kid anymore. I can make my own decisions. I know you're just looking out for me, but I have to start looking after myself." Maggie's eyes searched her sister's.
"Just...be careful, okay? You don't know what alcohol is like. I don't want you getting sick."
Beth grinned a little at this and shot a sideways glance at Daryl, who was beginning to wish he had just stayed against the wall and out of the spotlight.
Beth only took a few swigs more before passing the bottle back to Daryl. In truth, she had no intention of getting drunk, but she felt better for having asserted her independence to Maggie. The alcohol hit her nearly empty stomach a little harder than she had expected, and in the warm haze of the wine she curled up in the pew and watched the rest of the group laughing and joking.
It was amazing how quickly they were able now to bounce back from battle - to be lighthearted and happy when twelve hours ago they were on the chopping block of a group of murderers. Their resilience fortified her.
Abraham was speaking now, reiterating the importance of getting Eugene to D.C. He too had seen the strength of the battle-proven group. He wanted their help – needed it – and was unwilling to rest until he had his answer.
But Rick could be just as determined a leader. He told Abraham only that they would consider it, and reevaluate in the morning after the food bank. Watch shifts were established (with the intention of not only looking out for walkers, but keeping an eye on Father Gabriel) and the survivors began choosing their pews and curling up to sleep.
