Daryl introduced Ryan and the girls to Rick and then led them to a cell. "I'll bring in another mattress for y'all." There was just the two bunk beds, but he figured Ryan would want them to stick together. Daryl sure as hell would, if he had daughters to protect.

"It's so small," Mika complained.

"Well, we're only going to sleep here," her father told her. "There's lots of room in the prison, and there's a library, and outside there's a canteen and you can go visit the pig."

"I liked the church better," Lizzie said. "It wasn't so dank. And we slept in a really big room."

"It's better to be here," Ryan assured them. "There's lots of food, and running water, and other people. There's safety in numbers. I won't have to leave you locked in alone to go looking for food anymore."

"Well…uh…y'all start gettin' settled," Daryl said, "and I'll go get ya that other mattress."

He walked down to Beth's cell, because he knew she was bunking alone and would have an extra mattress. Zach wasn't bunking with her, but they were probably fooling around from time to time. Daryl didn't know how Hershel handled that. That man was so mild. If Daryl had a teenage girl, he'd be keeping a suspicious eye on any boy who talked to her. Beth wasn't even his, and he was already keeping a suspicious eye on Zach. But the truth was, Zach was all right. He seemed respectful enough. He was friendly without being too annoying.

Daryl leaned against the metal edge of the open cell door and cleared his throat. Beth was sitting at her little desk and writing in her journal. He wondered what she wrote in there. All her feelings about Zach, probably. Maybe song lyrics. She turned and smiled. She always had a pretty, friendly smile for him that made him feel like a welcomed big brother. It was strange, feeling so welcomed by someone so innocent, someone who, in the old world, should have been terrified by him.

"Need a mattress," he said. "We got new refugees."

"Oh yeah?" she asked. "Any cute guys?'

"Hmph. Ya got a boyfriend."

"Just because you're on a diet…" she said, and lay her pen down. She stood and slid her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. When she did, he noticed to her left a white sign board propped up on a stand. It read: The Workplace. 24 days without an accident. The numbers were removable.

"What's that 'bout?" he asked.

Beth glanced at the board. "Oh, I found it in the warden's office. Just thought it would be fun. I started it twenty-eight days ago, but a few days in, I had to reset it. One of the cleaners got a little too close to the fence and got his pinky bit. Daddy had to amputate it."

"Dumb ass," Daryl muttered.

"Don't be mean," she said softly.

Daryl hated when she scolded him like that, hated it because she was probably right, he probably shouldn't go around calling people dumb asses just because they were dumb asses. It wasn't nice. And Beth was nice. She was sweetness and light, and sometimes that annoyed the ever living shit out of him. And sometimes…sometimes it made him think that maybe they all had a chance to do more than just survive. Maybe Carl had a chance to grow up to become a man and a farmer, and maybe Little Ass Kicker had a chance to become a pretty teenager like Beth, and maybe Beth had a chance to one day marry Zach and make babies with him, and maybe he and Carol had a chance to…well, he wouldn't let his mind go there. He'd already been given more than he'd ever dared hope for from Carol – friendship, forgiveness, trust, and affection. He wasn't going to jinx that by wishing for more.

"Need that mattress," he said.

She nodded to the bunk. "Help yourself. You'll have to get the sheets from the laundry room."

"Sure Carol'll make it up for 'em."

"You know, you could make it up for them," Beth said. "Instead of making Carol do all the menial work."

"Ain't nothin' menial 'bout any of the work Carol does."

"I wasn't belittling her," Beth insisted. "That's not what I meant. We all need Carol. Just like we all need you."

Needed him? He couldn't think of any other time in his life when so many people had thought they needed him. He felt a little overwhelmed by the thought, the thought of mattering to people. He pushed himself off of the bars where he was leaning and grabbed hold of the mattress.

[*]

Carol was making up the top bed of the bunk in Ryan's cell when she heard a noise and looked over to see Daryl dragging the mattress in. He lay the mattress on the ground perpendicular to the bunks to allow room for getting in and out. "Where they at?" he asked.

"Went to the canteen to get a hot meal. Patrick's frying up some Spam for lunch."

"Bet he don't make it like you do."

She chuckled as she slid a pillow case over a thin pillow. She appreciated the compliment, even if it was a little silly. "There's only so much you can do with Spam." She lay the pillow on the bed and smoothed out the sheets.

Carol felt another presence and turned to see one of Michonne's dark hands gripping a thick bar of the cell. Michonne nodded to her and Carol nodded back. Carol had nothing against Michonne, but she still didn't feel like she really knew the woman. Michonne wasn't quite part of the nuclear family yet – the core circle of trust - as far as Carol was concerned, but Daryl seemed to treat her as though she was. Carol was willing to trust his judgment on the matter, assuming that judgment wasn't clouded by his attraction to the woman.

"Yer still here?" Daryl asked.

"Headed out after lunch," Michonne replied. "Just needed a couple of days to rest up and study the routes. I've been looking at the map. We haven't checked out Peachtree City yet."

"It ain't even clear he headed east."

"Well, I figure it's worth a try."

Carol busied herself with making up the bed on the bottom bunk and tried not to sneak glances at them as they talked. Daryl put a hand on the bar to the left of the one Michonne was gripping. Their hands were awfully close together. "Don't like the idea of you goin' out there alone, no backup."

Michonne flashed her pearly whites. "Then come with me, cowboy."

Cowboy? Carol thought. Cowboy? What the hell was that? Cowboy was what you called a man you wanted to fuck. She snapped the sheet out violently on top of the mattress. The sound was distinguishable enough that Daryl and Michonne both glanced at her. Carol pretended not to notice and began roughly tucking the sheet in under the mattress.

"Cain't," Daryl said. "We's almost out of canned meat. These kids need protein. Got to go huntin' tomorrow. I'm the only one who's really good at it. I just don't think you should go. Stay here for once. Help out here. Ya'd make a hell of a cleaner."

"I can't," she said. "You know I can't."

"Let it go," Daryl insisted. He leaned a little closer, too close for Carol's comfort, and lowered his voice. "I know how angry ya are. Asshole killed my brother, and believe me…I'd love to find him and slit his throat. But this thirst for revenge'll eat ya alive."

"It's not about revenge," Michonne insisted. "I'm telling you, he's regrouping. He's plotting. He will come after us."

"Yeah, well, we'll be ready if'n he does."

Michonne pushed off the bar and shook her head. "Goodbye, Carol," she said. "Thanks for all the food you two brought back. Rick said I could take some for the road."

Carol stood up straight and turned to face her. "Good luck to you," she said.

Michonne nodded to Daryl and then strutted down the hall. He rubbed his temple. "Hope she comes back alive," he muttered.

"She's important to you," Carol said quietly.

He turned and looked at her. "I ain't never had a lot of friends," he said. "The one's I got, they's all important to me." He looked right into her eyes when he said that, like he was trying to make a point he couldn't put into words.

Carol smiled and went back to making the bed.