Disclaimer: I own nothing.

––

"Why aren't they back yet?" Axel paced the length of the table while Noah sat on the stairs behind him calmly. "Something's happened. Oscar would have called us if they were delayed."

"Maybe they had to go somewhere," Noah suggested. "You know, maybe Andrew told them what they needed to now so they went there and can't call 'cause they can't. Or maybe they don't want us involved. That's more likely. Daryl never wants us in the thick of it."

"What if they know about Carol?" Axel turned to him. "She's been in the paper before, and maybe Andrew recognized her. Tomas holds grudges. You know that as well as I do, and if he told Andrew about Carol, they're screwed."

"You worry more than my mother." He shot up. "I'll call the hidden phone, and if they don't pick up, we'll trace the GPS, okay?"

"Okay."

"Jesus. I'd let you take the fall for this, but Daryl knows you can't work a computer to save your life," Noah mused. "Call your contacts—do something productive."

Axel was glad they had this kid on their side, but sometimes he wanted to throw a brick at him.

––

"Did you see this?" Caesar all but shoved the bagged needle cap in to Michonne's face. He had a lot of coffee and not enough sleep. "It was in Carol's apartment."

"I know. You've told me this four times." Michonne snatched the evidence bag from him. "I've had it analyzed, and we found a partial print that didn't belong to you. Or even Carol. I already sent our people over to her apartment."

"This means something happened to her, Michonne. This wasn't random."

"Nothing ever is with Carol." She sighed, shaking her head slightly. "There was a tenant in her building that moved out the day Carol informed me she was going on vacation."

"Who? I'll talk to him."

"I can't have you on this case," Michonne informed him.

"What?!" Caesar exclaimed. "Why the hell not? Without me, you wouldn't even know there was a case!"

"You're too close to Carol, and you'll run with any lead we find. I'm not doing this as a punishment. I'm doing this for your safety and Carol's. I'm sorry, Martinez, but you will not be working this case. I already have a team assembling, and I have work for you."

"Michonne—"

"That's Captain," she corrected at his tone, needing to be stern. "Now, you have work to do."

He scoffed. "Sure." He walked out of the office and saw Rosita joining a small group, scoffing. She spotted him and tapped her phone with her fingernail, but he wasn't in the mood to read her reassurances via text or e-mail. He had to blow off some steam and then go behind the Captain's back to find Carol. He was the best shot they had. He knew how criminals worked. He was undercover for six years. He knew Carol like the back of his hand, and he knew how she would handle this. He would ask for forgiveness later since he didn't have permission.

With one last glance at the sorry excuse for a team Michonne had gathered, he decided that he worked better on his own. He didn't need to catch anybody up to speed on all things Carol and this case; he didn't need to watch anybody's back, and while that left his exposed, he would still go after the sons of bitches who took her. He didn't have it in him to ever just walk away. With that said, he had to make a call. He pulled his phone out to call Andrea to tell her he wouldn't be home for dinner. He noticed he had an e-mail. He ignored it and called his wife.

"What happened?"

"How do you know something happened?"

"You barely stayed still when you got home from stopping by Carol's, you left the house at four and only now are you calling me. Clearly something happened. What was it? Is Carol all right? Did you find her? Or who took her?"

"Michonne's assembling a team to find her. They founds prints on the syringe cap that didn't belong to me...so we're looking in to it." He inhaled deeply. "I won't be home for dinner. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm glad you found the evidence you needed. Besides I have Keira, and it's a weekend. We'll just watch some movies and order pizza or something." She cleared her throat. "I—I need to talk to you, though. Not right now, but soon, okay? Before you go charging after Carol. And not over the phone."

"Yeah, of course."

"Okay. Well, good luck. I hope you both come home soon."

"Me too. I love you, Andrea. Tell Keira I love her too."

"You can do that yourself," her voice was small, like she was trying to keep him from hearing just how upset she was. It was confirmed now, and this was all real. Her best friend had been drugged and kidnapped and was in the hands of God only knows who. God, what were they doing to her? What did they want from her? Why her to the begin with?

"I should go," he softly said. "I'll—I'll see you when I see you. You and Keira both."

"With luck, maybe Carol will be with you. Or maybe you'll at least have an idea of who took her." She sucked in a breath. "I love you, Caesar. Be careful with this. You don't know why they chose her, and if you poke blindly...we may not get her back."

"I know. I will be very careful. I love you too, Andrea. Don't forget to lock up tonight."

"I never do." She hung up.

He rubbed the back of his neck and headed out. He hated lying to her, but he had no choice. If she knew he was alone in this, she'd handcuff him to the railing at the house. Or worse. He knew she would understand in the end, but for now he had to get started. He had a couple of contacts that might lead him to who took Carol. However he needed to watch himself. The men they worked for didn't like their people to ask too many questions. Or any at all.

– – –

Carol woke up to the feeling of warmth and stinging pain, and she opened her eyes to darkness. She pushed herself up, jaw set as pain washed over her, and she felt for a wall, kicking Daryl in the process. She could hear him waking and apologized to him, turning so that her back was against the cold wall. She cried out softly, but the cold felt good.

"Carol." He looked around. "Carol?"

"Y—yes?" She gripped her knees and groaned.

"Shit, are you all right?" He stood where he was, not wanting to accidentally crash right in to her.

"I'll be fine. I've had worse."

"Really?"

"I have plenty of scars from my younger days," she informed him. "This will all heal."

"I'm sorry. I never meant for you to get hurt like that."

"It's fine."

"No, it isn't fine. It's the furthest thing from fine!"

"All that matters is that I'm alive, and I am so...just drop it." She lightly touched the dried blood on her cheek and repressed a wince. "When do the lights come back on? Or do they not?"

"They turned 'em on when they threw you back in here. I don't think they intend to turn the light on for us." He ran a hand through his hair. "I guess the Governor's on his way here to pick us up."

"One of the assholes who was in the room with me said they were preparing you to meet him. This is preparing?"

"Guess so."

She felt something dig into her skin, and she groaned. What the hell now? Her entire torso felt like it was on fire when she moved and now this? What all did he do to her? It was all fuzzy from the drugs they'd used, but she knew he'd taken her belt, so he most likely beat her with it. And she vaguely remembered another man entering the room. She didn't...know him.

"What did they do?" Daryl whispered, finding the outline of her face in the dark.

"You saw, didn't you? When they threw me in here."

"Yeah...I did." His voice was thick, deeper as well. "Your...jeans...the belt and zipper... They didn't—"

"No," she interrupted him.

"They didn't?"

"No." She sank down onto the floor and felt the pinch again. "They just roughened me up a bit. Nothing I couldn't handle." He moved beside her, and she could feel his body heat. "What about you? They just toss you around a bit?"

"Yeah." He couldn't touch his wrists they were so raw and swollen. "Did more damage to myself."

"The Governor must not want you to be harmed."

"He'll wanna do that himself. He probably has a torture kit all worked out with knives and shit."

She frowned at that and pulled in her legs to try and get comfortable. It suddenly it her, and she gasped softly and hastily removed her boot.

"What?" He could hear her scrambling. "What? What?"

"Hold on." She reached into the bottom of the boot and found the knife she'd had taken from the bag Daryl had in his car, and she smiled in the dark.

"I'm holding," Daryl reminded her.

She grasped his hand and set the sharp knife inside his palm then slipped her boot back on. "I took this while you were talking to Abraham."

"Why did you take this?"

"To use it on you if you tried to betray me."

"Haven't we been over this? I'm not going to betray you. Hell, you were the one who kept talkin' about a knife in your back, but you were the one with the damn knife the whole time!"

"Shush!" She took the knife back. "I have an idea. It might get us out of here, but I'm not sure."

"What idea?"

"Do you think you could take any of the men that come to the door?" She kept her voice low in case the room was bugged.

"Probably, but why would I have to?"

"Because I'm going kill the smaller of however many men that walk through that door, and you're going to bum rush the other. If it's more than two, we'll take the last out together, or just push by him and run as fast as we can."

"With that little thing? Carol, have you seen them? Not one of 'em is gonna be affect by that."

"Daryl, just trust me."

He sighed. "Fine. How do you wanna do this?"

She leaned in so that her lips were only inches from ear and whispered what he needed to do. She would have to act first, but he would need to immediately act right after her, or they were going to die. Daryl knew the layout of this place, so he was going to lead them out of here. She would just make sure they got out in once piece. She hoped whoever came to the door had more than just sedatives on them. They would need a gun if they were going to get out of this alive. Two, if they were lucky, but luck wasn't entirely on their side. It was never was when Carol needed it.

––

It was about time to move Daryl and the cop he had tagging along with him. Gareth made sure Tomas and Shumpert were prepared and so was the vehicle. It was going to be quite a drive, and they needed Carol and Daryl compliant. Obviously, even with his daughter's life on the line, the Archer didn't care what happened. That must be why the Governor wanted Carol alive—to see just what kind of woman it takes to risk his daughter's life and his own. How many lives was Sophia's going to cost?

Gareth sent Crowley ahead with Andrew, and he told Tomas and Shumpert to get Carol and Daryl ready for transportation. They were going to drop them off at the location the Governor had told him and then they would collect their reward. He hoped this went as smooth as silk. He really didn't want to have to deal with Merle when this was over. He had a bad temper, and while he would beat him within an inch of his life for this betrayal, he didn't want to find out how much further he would beat him because it was his niece and his brother.

Tomas unlocked the door while Shumpert hit the lights, and he swung the door open, finding the two of them curled up in the corner together, blinking rapidly at the light that hit them. He smirked at his work on the detective's cheek and bottom lip, and he strolled into the room, pulling the syringe from his back pocket.

Shumpert grabbed Daryl and held him tightly by the arm, guiding him out. They would handcuff him once they were in the car. They would sedate the cop, keep her close so that the Archer wouldn't try anything. He cared for her, or at least didn't want her blood on his hands, and they would use that to their advantage. The Governor wanted him to be clearheaded and awake when they arrived, so no sedatives for him. That didn't mean they couldn't knock him out if he got too...excited.

Carol just glared at Tomas, and he chuckled, reaching for her arm, knowing she'd be stupid to fight. He had the syringe in one hand and a gun on his belt. He knew plenty of places to shoot her that wouldn't kill her. Gareth never said she had to be in perfect condition. Surely the Gov would understand. Or he would when he met the bitch.

Reaching out her arm to gently accept the drug, Carol shifted her weight, and Tomas leaned closer. She gripped the knife and sliced a very specific point on his arm, and at the same time, Daryl slammed Shumpert in to the wall with all of his body weight. Tomas jerked back instantly, about to grab his gun, but he noticed just how much he was bleeding; and Carol punched him in the face, grabbing his gun. Daryl bashed Shumpert's face into the wall, slamming a foot into his gut and taking a hold of the knife he'd used on Carol.

"Let's go!" Carol hurried down the hall and turned to see him staring in at Tomas. "Daryl!"

"Yeah..." He spun around and caught up to her.

He scanned both halls and knew the quickest way to reach exit was most likely guarded by more of either Gareth's men or the Governor's, so the safest and most reliable route was the longer one. They had time though. No guns were fired to alert Gareth of their escape, so they were good for now. They nonetheless needed to hustle all the same.

"This wa—"

As if jinxed, a bullet sliced through the air and right through Daryl's side, and at the end of the hall, struggling to see clearly, was Shumpert. Carol gasped, and Daryl slumped against her. She grasped his hips to try and balance him, seeing Shumpert trying to aim again. Carol raised her arm and shot him right between the eyes. She helped Daryl get to a wall, and she watched as his black shirt grew wet with fresh, hot blood.

"Hold on. I can use one of their shirts as—"

"No. We don't got time for that. No, we gotta go." He pushed off the wall. "We gotta move—now."

"You lead. I'll cover you."

"Shit." He groaned, and he forced himself forward. There would be a blood trail, but they had to get the hell out of there, especially now since Carol killed his two best men. Gareth would want blood. Her blood. They had to move. "C'mon, this way."

Carol could see he wouldn't make it very far, and they were probably going to die down here if they didn't hurry. She could hear thundering boots echoing down the halls as they fled through the building as quickly as possible, and it was only a matter of minutes before they were on top of them. She wrapped an arm around him and moved his arm across her shoulders, letting him use her as a crutch. They were already moving slowly at top speed, so at least Daryl had someone to lean against.

They continued through the building, Daryl pushed himself on, and Carol could hear them catching up. It would only be a matter of who reached their gun first in a few seconds. They had to get out of sight now. They needed cover and bandages and—and a lot of shit neither of them had. If they could just get out of this, he could get to a hospital, and Carol could turn this over to Michonne. They would get Sophia and shut down the drug operation for a while.

Carol reached down and touched the wounded, not feeling an exit hole, and Daryl groaned. Shit, that meant the bullet was still inside his body. Great, that just made dealing with this even more challenging than it was before. She couldn't perform surgery on him. Damn it! Even if they had what they needed and Carol managed to stop the bleeding, it wouldn't matter because they couldn't get out of there to deal with it. They were like rats in a maze, and it felt like every corner herded them further and further away from escaping. Perhaps all the blood loss was messing with Daryl's memory.

"Daryl, they're catching up."

"Through here." He pushed on the door, but it didn't move. "Goddamn it!"

"Step back." She raised her gun and shot through the lock, pushing it open. "Come on."

They hurried down the next hall, Gareth's men close enough that both Carol and Daryl could hear them shouting orders at them, and they ran. Carol saw another door, and she shot through that lock as well, not going to wait to test if it was locked or not. She glanced back and saw men rounding the corner, and she shot at them, keeping them back until Daryl was out the door. There was sunlight on the other side, and she followed when the men dove back to avoid bullets.

Out in the sun, they took in their surroundings, groaning and squinting at the sudden and bright light, trying to see where they could go. They were in an abandoned warehouse, and the street was empty. There were no cars anywhere in sight, so they would have to keep going on foot. Damn it. At least they made it out of there without one of them dying. That was good. If only they could take time to catch their breaths, but that was luxury right now.

"Down here." Carol put her arm around him and helped him down the street. She knew this place. Not like the back of her hand, but she knew it enough. She did work here once, back before she was a cop. There were no good places to hide and rest for more than just a few hours, because they could easily check each building, but they didn't have a choice. Daryl wouldn't make it very far, and she needed to see to his wound, and they needed to come up with new plan to get Sophia back.

Once through several alleys, barely avoiding the thugs after them, Carol released Daryl and began to work on prying open a window, leaving him slumped against a wall. Breaking in was easier said than done.

"Where are we goin'?" He was panting heavily, all color drained from his face, and he looked at her.

"Into this building." She used the butt of the gun to knock out the glass to the window. "Give me one second."

"Hurry." He pushed off the wall and tripped in her direction, trying to shake this feeling off.

She climbed inside, landing on her feet in a way that wasn't at all grace or painless. She felt something pull in her leg, and she whimpered when she stood on it, but she had no choice but it shake it off. She saw a chair that could ease Daryl inside, and moved it under the window, telling him to hurry and be careful.

Using some old crates that bent at his weight, Daryl managed to slip inside, almost falling face first into the chair Carol had left under the window for him. She assisted him through the window when she saw him almost fall face first into the building, and he thanked her. He saw the blood he'd smeared on the sill and hoped they didn't notice it too. It was midday, so they were plenty of hours for them to see it. That and the lovely trail of blood he'd left. He scanned the room with the small light the broken window provided, and he spotted Carol by the window, peering through binds.

"We good?"

"No. Of course we're not good, but for the moment, we lost them. They'll find us eventually. Luckily, your wound stopped bleeding a few streets back, so that's good news." She turned to him. "And speaking of your wound, now that we have some cover, let me see that."

"I'm good. It's...it's good."

"Daryl, you've lost a lot of blood."

"I got plenty left."

"You are so pigheaded." She searched the room they were in. "I'll try and find something to clean that with, and you will let me clean it."

"Sure." He checked the street and wondered just how long they had, how long his daughter had. He had no clue where she was, but the Gov knew that he was on the loose. This plan was risky. Too risky, but they had no choice. If they had stayed, they'd have died. This was the only way. He had to keep hoping the Governor wanted him bad enough to keep Sophia alive. Maybe he'd punish Gareth for his men shooting him. He glanced down at the wound, lifting his shirt. Fucking Shumpert. He was good shot. It was a good thing Daryl had enough strength to disorient him like that, or he'd be dead right now. He didn't care for rules so his punishment for this wouldn't have matter much to him. Well, it didn't matter now. Carol killed him, and he no longer had any concerns.

He leaned against the wall, glad to see that Carol was right and the bleeding had slowed; however the climb through the window had reopened it some. He left quite a trail behind. If they had dogs, they were screwed. Even more than they were ten seconds before he had that thought. He lifted his head when he heard Carol's boots scuffle the floor, he took notice of how Carol had a limp to her walk; yet she didn't wince, didn't stop looking for anything to clean his wound, and he was impressed. She was very... Well, she was certainly different than what he expect.

Carol returned with only duct tape and an old cloth. "This is all I found, but I do know what this place was."

"What?"

"A morgue." He chuckled softly and shook his head, and she smirked. "Thought you might like that. Take off your shirt. I'll try and wipe some of the blood off."

He removed his shirt, grunting some, and she set her hand on his lower stomach. She bent down and looked over the area, tilting her head and smiling a little. "There it is."

"What? There what is?"

"I was wrong. It did go clean through." She gently wiped at the fresh blood, and he clenched his jaw. "We need to get you to a doctor."

"'Cause we got the option." He stepped back. "Gimme that."

She straightened, held out the tape and narrowed her eyes. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah." He broke off a long piece of duct tape, covering the wound and his entire lower torso, and Carol shook her head. "What? It ain't like you're a doctor. And we aren't going to one until we have Sophia back."

"And how do we do that?" She sat down in the chair across from him. "We don't know where she is, and we can't trust your people."

"We aren't going to yours," he reminded her.

"Obviously." She sighed. "We don't even have a car. And they're looking for us."

"They won't hurt you," Daryl promised.

"I killed two of their men. Of course they'll try and kill me." She turned her gaze to the blinds. "They'll thoroughly check us if they catch us again, and they'll keep us apart to not only ensure that we don't plan another escape, but to keep each other in the dark on how the other is doing. They must know you want me alive, and they'll use me to get you to do whatever they want, just like they're using Sophia."

"How the hell did you have time to think all of that?"

"I didn't make detective because of my looks, Archer." She flashed him an amused grin.

His brows rose. "We may not need to escape," he added an extra layer of tape and more collapsed than sat in the chair behind him. "If we get caught, we need a plan to turn it to our advantage."

"What are you thinking?"

"We won't need weapons. We'll get out of this alive, with Sophia. And you'll get to take out half of the drug operation in the city."

"You call this a plan, but what you're suggesting...we'll need a miracle for that. And they don't exist."

"Maybe not, but the pain in your leg does. How is it?"

"My leg? It's fine."

"You were limping."

"It's nothing."

"Carol, you have enough injuries as it is. Don't tell me it's nothing."

"I may have pulled something. I'll walk it off."

"Could I?"

"Could you what?"

"You took a beating for me, and you saved me from eating a bullet. C'mere." She didn't move, and he pressed. "I'll just bug you till either they get us or you come here."

She groaned, but walked over to him. He held his hands up, palms out and slowly grasped her upper thigh. She instantly grew very rigid, but she didn't kick him in the face so he began to massage very gently her upper thigh, seeing her wince. "How's that?"

Her eyes were closed, but he could see the grimace lessen. "It's nice. Thanks."

"And your other...injures?"

"I've been better."

"What did he do to you?"

"We've been through this." She walked over to the window, deciding that was all the time they had for that. "I won't feed your guilt. You see my face, and I'm a just little bruised."

"That's all?"

"He valued his own life more than he wanted to take mine." She exhaled. "I guess that means you were right; the Governor wants us both alive."

"Yeah, but why?"

"Maybe he wants to see what kind of person makes a dedicated father go to the police without even trying to save his daughter first."

He met her eyes and leaned back. "I'm beginnin' to wonder what kind of person I got too."

"What do you mean?" She halfway faced him.

"Back there...with Tomas, what the hell did you do to him? I've never seen anything like that."

"It wasn't that impressive."

"Impressive isn't the word I would use. Fucking terrifying is a little closer. You barely cut him, and he bled to death within seconds."

She sighed. "All I did was cut the brachial artery."

"The what?"

"Do you really want me to go into detail about it? I'd rather just forget."

"So...it did bother you."

"Of course it did." She scoffed and stood up. "I don't like killing. I'm not a machine! I did what I had to do to get us out of there, no different that you!"

"I didn't mean to imply that you were. You just didn't seem to...be bothered by it. You just did it...then you shot Shumpert."

"Because we were being held captive by ruthless assholes who abducted a child to get to her father!" Lowering her voice so much that he thought she was talking to herself, she uttered, "God only knows what the hell they're doing to her right now."

"I didn't mean to piss you off. I just don't know you. I just wanted to make sure you weren't—"

"You couldn't make sure of that before you kidnapped me? Before you threw my entire life into chaos?"

"You agreed—"

"Yes, I did! I did agree, because I thought I could... I thought that this would be easy. I figured it'd be smooth sailing after we interrogated Andrew and got her location by threatening to take his child away. It was supposed to be extremely simple!" She locked eyes with him "I am not getting involved any deeper in this. I know how this goes, and I have lost too damn much to risk losing that much and more. You have no idea what this is gonna take, do you?"

"You think I don't know? It's my little girl! It's my child they kidnapped!"

"Oh, and that's the hard part?" she growled. "Your little girl is just lost somewhere with hard-hearted, murderous men, and you think that's the hard part?"

"Keep your voice down," he hissed.

"You don't have a goddamn clue what the hard part is." She glared at him through the tears in her eyes, her heart racing in her chest, the cold and sickening fingers of her past dragging down her spine, causing an internal shudder to pass through her. "You don't know anything more than your illegal actions put an innocent child in harm's way! Maybe you should have just let her to be a ward of the state! Maybe her adoptive parents would have done a better job of keeping her safe, of giving her a normal and happy childhood!"

"Where is this coming from?" he demanded. "You said you would help! You said you would bring her back to me! You gave me your word!"

"What part of that said I wasn't going to help her? I'm not going invest myself in this any further, yes but that's not what you think it means." She couldn't look him in the eye anymore, and a tremble coursed through her from memories she'd buried so far inside of herself resurfacing so vividly that she was too scared to look at her hands for fear of seeing his blood coating her fingers. "I'm just...exhausted. I'm going to look for something to make in to a weapon in the next room. I may have missed something."

Once in the quiet of the next room, she regained herself, forcing back the unwanted memories of her past. She dried her eyes and shook the feeling of deja vu in her stomach so strong that she could almost hear his voice calling to her. She didn't expect this. Why was this in her mind? Were the events so similar? She didn't dare think back on her actions all those years ago. She couldn't. A little girl's life depended on them. On her. She just needed to hold on and tough this out. She needed to just keep breathing.

Daryl scoffed. What the hell was that about? What gave her the right to tell him Sophia's life would be better if she had been left in the state's care and adopted out? He couldn't even begin to tell her how wrong she was. She didn't know shit. Her other cases were not him and Sophia. She didn't know what the hell she was talking about. He shook his head and decided to keep a look out. They needed to keep an eye on this bastards so they could jump at the first chance for an escape. Hopefully Carol's little outburst didn't tip them off. Hell, maybe he should have gotten a just in case for the just in case.

– – –

Caesar caught up to Rosita, having finally read her e-mail, and they made plans to meet up later to talk. She was going to help him find Carol, because she knew they were the two best suited to find her. Rosita had the skill, and Caesar knew who to handle a gun. They were a good team, and they would get this done faster than that sad little group Michonne had put together. They were competent enough, but for this they needed to be majors in everything Carol Williams. She was one tough cookie to crack. Those men would never come close to understanding why she liked her coffee the way she did, let alone how she thought, how she moved and how she could see the signs of people watching her. A twenty minute briefing of her life was like reading a summary to a movie plot; you knew what happened, but you missed key details that told you no matter how dedicated and talented you were, no matter how careful and kind you were, there was always a shadow lurking close behind, ready and eager to spill blood. And every drop of blood told its own story. Those stories made up every scar, every cell, every memory and emotion that was Carol Williams, and they were how Rosita and Caesar were going to find her.

"I'll bring the coffee."

She smiled. "Good, because we'll need it."

Something caught something in the corner of his eye, and he looked over, seeing Andrea looking exceptionally pissed. "I have to go, but I'll meet you."

"You know, your wife is so nice and understanding, I'm just wondering what the hell you did or didn't do to make her look like a storm."

He smirked. "Have a nice night."

"Good luck. Seriously, though, good luck. You'll need it."

He met Andrea by the car, and he frowned when she simply walked to her own car and drove off. He knew she was going home, and he drove after her. This was not going to be pretty. Silent Andrea was worse than literally any other types of Andrea. It was confirmed that she was beyond furious when he walked into the door to find she was already pacing. He didn't have time to take off his jacket before she went at him, and he hoped Keira wasn't at home, because he didn't want her to hear any of this conversation. He didn't even want the cat to hear it.

"I guess my worry was gravely misplaced." Her glower would sent most men cowering. He was used to it, nevertheless he couldn't repress his gulp.

"What worry?"

"For you." She locked eyes with him. "You lied to me."

"When I did lie to you?"

"I called Michonne a couple hours ago, because you weren't returning Keria's calls, and you aren't on the team she assembled to find Carol. She told you that as well. So why in the hell did you tell me we were looking in to when it was really them?"

"I... I didn't want you to worry—"

"I'm already worried! And my husband lying to me isn't going to make me worry less!" she interrupted him, a tightness in her voice. "And you're not protecting me! You're protecting yourself!"

"I—"

"I've never lost anybody close to me," Andrea cut him off again. "I've never lost my grandparents, my parents, Amy, the family dog—nobody! Until I met you and Carol." His eyes averted hers. "I'm not saying I regret it. I don't. You are...the entire world to me. Our daughter is the best part of both of us, and I wouldn't trade her for anything. And Carol is the best friend I've ever had. Even after all that happened, she is still the best friend I've ever had, even though I've failed at being there for her."

"Andrea..."

"When I kept telling you...that she might not be missing, that she might actually be on vacation...it was because the last time this happened, I had to watch two of the most important people in my life break—twice. I can't watch you two go through that again, and I kept hoping that if I rationalized it all out then it wouldn't happened, and Carol would be fine. You would be fine." She hugged herself. "I know it was incredibly stupid, and clearly I was wrong. I know she's out there somewhere doing her best to get back to us. I know she'll do everything in her power to get out alive. That's who she is. She's damn tough. She's a survivor. And yet...there's still a high possibility I'm going to have to sit through another funeral."

"You won't have to. Carol's resourceful and tough. Your words. She won't lay down and die, and with all of us looking—"

"I wasn't talking about Carol's funeral."

He looked at her through narrow eyes, trying to think of something to say to that, but he couldn't. There were no words to argue that sentence with. He didn't even want to wrap his head around it. What the hell was she talking about? No, why the hell did she assume that?

"Did you think I didn't notice?" She exhaled heavily. "Caesar, Carol may be the one who was kidnapped and who's been through so much and has continued to going through so much, but you're the one...who just doesn't care."

"What?" he exclaimed. "That's total bullshit! Of course I care!"

"Not about yourself!" she shot back. "You're reckless, and you know you are! Ever since...Sam was killed, you've been on a subconscious death mission! I don't know why! Maybe you blame yourself for not telling Carol to back off. Maybe you blame yourself because you didn't take Sam to the batting cage like you'd planned for weeks. Maybe you think it'll magically give Sam his life back. Maybe because you weren't there period!"

"What are you talking about? I'm not reckless! I take precautions and—and try to—"

"To protect everyone but yourself," she finished. "I saw the look in your eyes when our daughter was born."

"Happiness?"

"Fear," she corrected. "She's not Sam. She's not in danger. And yet you refuse to been seen with her longer than necessary, because you don't want any enemies you may have to use her against you. And I've seen you sitting in her room some nights just to make sure nothing happens to her."

"Of course I'm concerned about her, but I don't avoid being seen with my daughter. I work, Andrea. I have a very demanding job. You know this. And just because I watch her sleep doesn't mean I'm waiting for someone to bust in and take her from me."

"Then why did you always have your gun?" she snapped then her voice softened, "You stay with her all night. All goddamn night, cradling that damn gun in your hand."

He scoffed, but didn't speak.

"Do you want to die?"

"Of course not!"

"Then you really need to let go of what happened to them."

"I already did, but it's still a part of me, Andrea. Just like it's a part of you and a part of Carol! He was my godson! He was my nephew! And...he deserved better. Christ, he was ten years old..." He bowed his head. "We never should've taken that case."

She noted the way he spoke, as though Sam had been shot just yesterday and not twelve years ago. He hadn't let go. He had never let go. "And Karen? You've been carrying her around since you found her body."

He tensed up. "We're not talking about this again."

She let out a short chuckle, not at all amused. "Again? When have we ever talked about her? You told me about her, and that was it. End of story. Book closed."

"You can be as concerned as you want to be," he spat, "but we're done talking about this and Sam and anything related. I'm going to find Carol before something happens to her. I'd appreciate it if when we get back, you...find somewhere else to be."

"You're kicking me out of my own house?"

"Until you stop thinking that I want to kill myself through the various criminals I encounter, yeah."

"Fine. I'll be with my parents in Florida. I'm taking Keira with me."

"Why? She has school and—"

"I'm taking Keira with me," she interjected in a hiss. "I'll have her call you when we arrive."

"Good. Have a safe trip. Take care of yourselves."

"You too. If I come back to find out you're dead, Caesar Martinez, I'm kicking your ass."

He stormed out of the house before he said something he regretted, and he barreled down the street to get a good enough distance away from her. Well, he already said something he regretted, and he sure as hell didn't mean it. He needed to calm down and talk to her. He always turned into an asshole when somebody brought up Karen or Sam, especially when it was both of them. He was poor at coping, even though he'd been doing it from a young age. He couldn't lay them to rest for some reason, just like Carol couldn't. Maybe that's why they were close.

He could've stayed mad. He did mad well, but that last thing she said to him... He groaned and ran his hands through his hairs, squeezing his eyes shut and expelling yet another groan. He was angry at himself. There were some truths to what she said. Damn it. He would talk to her when she called from Florida. He couldn't right now. He was too angry, and he would say something even more stupid and hurtful. No. No. He needed to apologize to her. This couldn't wait. The last time he thought there would be more time...there wasn't. He wasn't going to make that mistake again.

He turned on his heel and jogged back to the house, but when he called to her, she didn't reply. He frowned and searched the house, but she wasn't there. To his dismay, it appeared that she had already left for Florida. She marked on the calendar when she'd be back, and he grabbed the phone to try her cell, but he saw it on the kitchen table. There was no way in hell her father would let him to talk her after this fight. Once she landed, Amy would find out and then Dale would find out. Dale was a very protective father, and he would go out of his way to make sure Andrea didn't have to talk to Caesar until she was ready. He really didn't want to step into that mess with Dale again.

He could only do what he set out to do: bring Carol home. He needed to find Carol and arrest the son of a bitch or sons of bitches that had taken her then he would fly down and work this out with Andrea. They could use a vacation—if she didn't throw him out on his ass. She would do that in a polite way since Keira was with her. Thankfully, he didn't need Keira to think they were getting a divorce. That's the last thing he wanted. God, he owed her an apology, more than that. He hoped Carol could help with that. Or at least give him that silent glare she always gave when he'd been an asshole. Then give that look to Andrea as well. He wasn't the only one who had been in the wrong.

– – –

Andrea watched her husband rush out the door, and she swallowed back the sob that had been threatening to break loose the entire fight. She'd tried to tell him all of those things long before tonight, and now she finally had. It didn't feel the way she thought it would. Honestly, keeping it in felt better. There was no going back now. She turned and wrote on the calendar when they would be back before headed upstairs to book their flight. Keira had fallen asleep on their bed an hour ago; Andrea had slipped her half a sleeping pill so she wouldn't wake up to their screaming.

Entering her bedroom, she wiped at her eyes and saw that her daughter wasn't on the bed. That wasn't the only surprise. Her eyes moved to the man dressed in all black who held her unconscious little girl in his arms, but before she could react, a meaty hand came over her mouth and a something sharp pierced the skin on her neck.