Carol spotted Dwight fighting his way over to her. Her knife made a familiar sickening sound as it slid through the walker's head.

"Come on, " Dwight motioned for her to follow.

"Kinda busy here!" And between the Saviors and the walker, she was.

"He's alive!" Dwight informed her. He held up a small object. "Look at this…the bullets are duds. Negan's shooting blanks! They all are! Daryl's alive, probably just a nasty concussion."

"What? Wh…where is he?"

"I put him in the cell so the dead ones can't get him."

Carol fired off another volley of bullets at Negan's army before retreating to the basement cell.

She took a shortcut around the back of the Grimes home. It was there that she nearly tripped over a corpse lying face down. Was it who it looked like? She rolled it over on its back. Yes, it was Negan. She fired several shots into the air to draw the attention of the walkers to the fresh kill.

She found Daryl in the cell, as Dwight had promised. She gently rotated his head until she could see the wound on his right temple. He groaned meekly as he drifted in and out of consciousness. The injury was shallow, more like an abrasion. The bone below appeared intact. Could he really have gotten away with only a concussion? Certainly, concussions could be quite serious, even fatal, but this still felt miraculous when just ten minutes ago she believed his brain had been completely destroyed. She looked back at his eyes and realized he was now more alert. His bright blue eyes looking back at her were the most wonderful sight she'd seen in a long time.

"Hey," she said. "I'm here."

"How's it goin' out there?"

"Good. Negan's dead. We're driving them out."

"You good?"

"I'm good. Much better now."

"My head hurts."

"I'll bet."

"So much pressure…" Every word seemed to be a struggle for him, so she tried to quiet him.

"Okay, just rest quietly. I'm gonna go find a medic."

( )

Hours later, the last of the skirmishes had died out, and the few remaining Saviors had fled. Now began the process of clearing the bodies and tending to the wounded. Daryl reclined on a cot in the infirmary, a fresh bandage on his head. He would later recall the doctor saying something about not being out of the woods yet, there could still be brain swelling or hemorrhage, and similar gibberish, but right now all he could focus on were the positives. Negan was dead. It was over. And, wonder of wonders, he'd been right about Eugene.

The psuedoscientist now sat on another cot, having a graze on his arm treated. When he was finished, Daryl called him over.

"I almost shot you," Daryl admitted. "But I knew you had to be runnin' a game."

"I would've shot you." Carol confessed.

"I think most of us would've," Rick added. "You were looking pretty guilty. Thank you. You really saved the day."

"I was fully cognizant that I would be perceived as a traitor. It's the reason that my plan of hiding behind the trucks until my subterfuge was discovered was, in fact, not cowardly, but prudent."

Eugene caught Daryl off guard with a lively hug, then repeated the act with Carol and Rick.

"I believe this makes us officially even Steven in the life-saving department. Unless you factor in Terminus in which case I have considerably more heroics to perform to approximate equivalency. If we qualify epic rescues on a sliding scale, adjusting for the number of miscreants—"

"We're good, Eugene," Carol said warmly. "Thank you."

Yep, he's still the same Eugene, Daryl noted. Took two hundred and eighteen words to say 'you're welcome.'

"How in the hell did you get fake bullets past Negan?" Rick wondered.

"Proper bullets were made. Said bullets were test-fired to the satisfaction of the hooligan in charge. Roughly two hours before commencement of hostilities, a grade A-one switcheroo was initiated. I am a coward. I've freely admitted the same. Im not courageous. I'm not strong. What I am is smart. Smarter than the average bear—or Savior, as the case may be. Throw in a sleight of hand, a little smoke and mirrors and some good old fashioned ingenuity and you got yourself a recipe for a con job of epic proportions. I saw the storerooms, the lack of ammunition, and the ineptitude of the guards and fully recognized the opportunity to flip the script, slow Negan's roll, turn this predicament from futile to hunky dunky. My hope is that Abraham can be proud of me."

"Eugene? What happened with Sasha?" Carol dared to ask.

"She was captured. She fully believed that she was going to be killed., the manner of which would be more detrimental to the people she loved than her death itself. She chose not to be used in said manner."

Daryl looked to the floor. How could he judge when he had experienced those same thoughts himself?

Carol leaned over and planted a kiss on Daryl's lips, eliciting raised eyebrows from the others.

"It's about damn time," Rick muttered under his breath.

Carol ignored him.

"I'm gonna go help with the cleanup, let you get some rest."

( )

The mess in the streets of Alexandria rivaled the one left by the invading herd of walkers that followed the attack of the Wolves. It took several days to restore some semblance of normalcy. The knights of the Kingdom returned home. Plans were made to establish the beginning of free trade between Hilltop, the Kingdom and Alexandria, as well as a pact to come to each other's defense at the first sign of trouble in the future.

Carol honored an unspoken agreement to remain at Daryl's house—or rather their house. She added her own touches here and there; if he noticed, he didn't comment. It amazed her how quickly the arrangement had begun to feel routine.

As she changed the bandage on his right temple, a faint scar on the left side of his forehead caught her eye. She shuddered at the memory.

"This is the one from Andrea."

"Yup."

"Now you have a matching set."

"Might be the only son of a bitch alive to get shot in the head twice and survive. Merle always said I was hard-headed."

"So that's, what, three gunshot wounds altogether? I've only had two."

"There ain't no prize for winnin' this one, okay? Don't you try to catch up."

Carol chuckled. "Okay, okay."

"Can I come in?" A voice called from the hallway.

"Sure thing, Bestie," Daryl replied sarcastically.

Dwight stepped in the doorway.

"Wanted to let you know me and Sherry are leavin'. King Ezekiel agreed to let us into the Kingdom. We're gonna get a fresh start."

"The hell you're leavin'!" Daryl growled. "Didn't I promise to kill you?"

Carol and Dwight both stared back at him, unsure if he was serious.

"You did," Dwight nodded calmly.

"But then you came through for us," Daryl added. "Saved my ass. I can't speak for Tara, but you and me? We're square."

"New best friends?" Jokingly, Dwight reached out for a hug.

Daryl threw his arms up in front of him. "Don't even think about it. We ain't never gonna be friends, man, but we can co exist. Far, far away from each other."

"I'll take that."

"Listen, asshole," Daryl rifled through the drawer of his nightstand. "If you're serious about that fresh start, you might want these back."

He dropped the rings into Dwight's hand.

"No," Dwight drawled out, "these are part of the past. Gonna get new ones for our new beginning. Maybe you can find another use for 'em? I can make that tooth thing happen if you want."

He laid them on the table.

"Okay, okay, get lost."

"Good luck with everything " Carol called after the departing man.

Once Dwight was out of earshot, Carol turned to Daryl.

"I knew you wouldn't kill him. Not after everything he did for us."

"Because I'm soft?"

"Because you're sweet. And fair. And forgiving…"

"Stop."