AN: Here we go, another little chapter here.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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"You think he's coming here?" Carol asked.

Her head still didn't feel like her own at times, and her reality felt even less so. It was all too much to take in, especially in such a short span of time. It was so much, in fact, that she couldn't even begin to sort it all.

And now, the man that she was starting to trust…the man that she was starting to think had been sent to her as some kind of very unexpected and entirely not stereotypical guardian angel…was telling her that a man who lived in the realm of her nightmares might very well appear again.

"I don't think he's comin'," Daryl commented, hovering somewhat over her while she sat on the bed, his arm propped on the bunk above her while he smoked with the other hand. "I know he is. Sooner rather than later, I'd say. But he ain't gonna just come. Gonna wait until we got our guard down…given the fools 'round here, though? Asshole could come any damn time he wants. Ain't a guard up in the whole damn place."

Carol listened to him and took in the information that she offered as thoroughly as she could. She wasn't really surprised. She would doubt nothing anyone told her about the Governor, just so long as it was something terrible.

"When do you think?" She asked.

"Ain't got no damn way a' knowin that," Daryl said.

"I know you don't know when, but when do you think?" Carol pressed. She swallowed. "I trust your instinct."

Daryl looked at her a moment, held her eyes with his in the slightly unnerving manner that he had of doing that, and then he shook his head slightly.

"I'd say we got a week…seven days…tops," Daryl said. "He's watchin' us even now, if what Merle says is true. Got people watchin'. He's gonna wait. Get everyone comfortable and thinkin' he ain't comin', but he's gonna come. Makin' sure we don't make no move."

"What are we going to do?" Carol asked.

Daryl stepped away from his position and paced around the cell before he sat, hard and slouching from his landing, in the chair in the corner of the cell.

"We gonna figure out how to be ready," Daryl said. "This place's got weapons, but it ain't got nothin' like what Merle says he got. We don't know how many people he's bringin'…we don't know shit."

"Then how'll we be ready?" Carol asked.

She felt a churning feeling in her stomach. The feeling of panic that rose up when she realized she could barely move. She could barely even care for her own most basic needs. She wasn't sure how in the world she was going to be of any use to anyone…but she knew that for Sophia? For Sophia she had to find whatever was left inside of her to fight the man and whoever he might bring. At least this time, she'd be fighting him when he didn't have the advantage of chaining her to something first.

"We'll be ready," Daryl said.

His voice sounded odd. It sounded like he was confident in his response, on the one hand, but on the other it sounded as though he didn't believe it at all. Maybe he wasn't sure, but he was trying to keep the faith for her. Whatever it was, Carol thought it was important not to question him. He needed her, at the moment, to believe him. So she would believe him.

He hadn't given her any reason, as of yet, not to believe anything he said.

She swallowed again, considering what he was telling her.

"I'll do what I can do," she said.

"You're stayin' outta the way," Daryl said.

"I'll do what needs to be done," Carol said. "But…I do want Sophia out of the way. I want her…"

She stopped because she realized that she didn't have any more of a plan than he did. She didn't even have the home field advantage of knowing anything about this prison beyond the cell that she was in, though he promised to take her that evening for a shower, and to take her, the next day if she was up to it, for a short walk in the courtyard near their somewhat annexed part of the prison.

"I just want her somewhere where, no matter what happens, she's got a chance," Carol said.

Daryl stared at her again, chewing visibly at the inside of his lip while he did so, working over the problem at the same time as he worked over the piece of his own skin.

"She's gonna be outta the way too," Daryl said. "Both of you are. You ain't in no condition and she's a kid. Both of ya gonna be outta the way…that's all that's gettin' said on that matter. You good with babies?"

Carol felt her own jaw slack in confusion.

"What?" She asked.

"You…good…with…babies?" Daryl repeated, drawing out the question like he supposed she hadn't understood the actual words, though that wouldn't be entirely impossible given the fact that they weren't entirely sure that she wasn't still recovering from a pretty decent concussion.

"I mean," Carol stuttered out, not sure how to answer the question, "I guess I am."

"Settled then," Daryl said. "Rick's got a baby. Gonna need someone to watch it if we all goin' to the front. You gonna stay with the baby."

"I should be out there…" Carol started, but she got cut off.

"You will be," Daryl said. "One day…but this ain't gonna be that day, and no time in a couple weeks is gonna be it neither. No big deal…you watch the kids. We all go belly up, get the hell outta here with 'em best you can."

Daryl stood up like he was going to leave the space.

"Daryl?" Carol called at him.

He turned around to face her, obviously waiting on her to say what was on her mind.

"My husband," she said, not sure exactly how to go about saying what she wanted to say.

Daryl sucked his teeth.

"He might…I don't know if he's…" Carol couldn't, not for the life of her, find the words that she wanted to say, even though she knew in her mind that she wanted to, what? She wanted to warn him about Ed?

Daryl shook his head at her.

"Don't even think about him," Daryl said. "Sorry…I reckon…but Merle says he's good an' dead."

Carol almost laughed at the way that the words were delivered to her. Or maybe she almost laughed at the relief she felt of being, all at once, so absolutely sure that Ed was gone, once and for all, from her life entirely.

"Don't be sorry," she said. "I'm happy to hear it."

Daryl stared at her a moment longer, nodded his head slightly, and ducked out the cell without another word.

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"You're not wrong you know," Michonne said. "About wanting to be ready?"

Daryl turned quickly, surprised by the sound of the woman's voice. He hadn't expected anyone to notice him stepping into the space where they stored the weapons that had been found over their time searching out what was left now that the world had gone to shit.

He prided himself on moving fairly quietly…but the samurai was even quieter than he was.

"What do you want?" Daryl asked.

"To help," Michonne said.

Daryl chuckled to himself.

"Run yourself right on back to Rick and his picks," Daryl said. "I don't want you here. You picked your side."

Michonne gave him something of a smile, even if it appeared to be more of an ironic smile than a smile of genuine amusement, and walked in something of a circle around him.

"I'm on no side," Michonne said. "I'm on the outside here, maybe more than you. No one trusts me…and neither do you. But I can help."

"Why would you even care if you don't got no involvement?" Daryl responded, keeping an eye on her, not quite trusting her enough himself to take his eyes off of her.

She tipped her head to the side.

"He wants me dead as much as he wants any of you dead," she said. "Maybe more. I've got my own reasons for wanting him dead."

"Why you wanna side up with us?" Daryl said. "You can bet'cha ass that soon as Carol's better? Rick's gonna run us outta this prison on a rail. Maybe before then. That ain't the kinda people you wanna help if you was lookin' to keep right on livin' here."

"Who said I was?" Michonne challenged. "I've already been helping you if you weren't too damn blind to see it."

Daryl stared at her and she stared back at him. For a moment neither of them spoke and neither of them moved. Daryl realized that if he didn't take the initiative to break the eye contact, they weren't likely to move. This was a game that she wasn't going to lose at, and he didn't care. He had more important things to do. He had, in his opinion, more important things on the line.

"The hell you talkin' about?" He asked.

"Who do you think brought you the water? Who do you think stole you the food? The clothes? Washed your…things?" Michonne asked.

Daryl felt his stomach churn at the realization that the prison elf, as he'd come to think of whoever their quiet delivery person, was standing a few feet away from him.

"Why?" He asked. It was all he could manage to say at the moment.

"Doesn't matter," Michonne responded. "I helped you then. I'll help you now. And I want to help when the Governor comes…because he is coming."

Daryl swallowed, his interest now held by the woman, and leaned against the hard wooden table he'd been examining the weapons on before.

"What's in it for you?" He asked.

Michonne took to movement again and completed a circle around, Daryl following her with his body and his eyes, until she was on the other side of the table from him. She reached and touched one of the guns on the table with just her fingertips.

"The Governor has something…somebody…I want. I'd kill him for that alone," Michonne said. "But…if we kill him? If we beat him at his own game? I'm not as keen on travelling alone as I was. It's a life, and you can make it…but it's survival at its rawest. If Rick wants you out? I want to go too."

Daryl chuckled to himself.

"You realize where the hell I go, Merle goes?" Rick asked.

Michonne rolled her eyes up toward his again.

"He doesn't know how to behave?" Michonne asked. "Not trained to play well with others?"

Daryl chuckled again. He shook his head.

Something like a smile curled across her lips and faded so quickly that Daryl almost could be convinced that it had never been there to begin with.

"Tell him I can play as nicely as he can," she said. "Tell him…that if he can't play well with others? I may just find him a leash."

Daryl stared at her, not quite sure what she meant, but hearing the touch of menace in her voice.

"You got some ideas? Or you waitin' for us to tell you what the hell to do?" Daryl asked.

"You take the message to Merle," Michonne said. "Then you talk to me. It'd be better if this fight never came to the prison…but you talk to him, then you talk to me."

"Where'm I supposed to talk to you? If Merle wants to play nice with you?" Daryl asked.

Michonne started walking again, this time with more sound than she'd approached with, heading for the door she'd apparently entered through since there was no other way for her to come into the space.

"I'll find you," she said. "Don't you worry about that. It's a small world…after all."