Guilt, he would say, is what he feels most. Followed by regret...anger...culbability...he feels responsible for her being left behind, responsible for whatever fate she met. He was so quick to go out and take down the walkers at the farm, so quick to get Carol on to his bike and make sure she was safe, that he neglected to think of Andrea. He always assumed she was just with the others, helping to keep them safe; he never thought that she might need help. They all thought she was 'with someone else' until it became clear that she wasn't - and now where is she?

On the first night that they make camp after leaving the farm, Daryl consoles himself with the thought that no-one actually saw her injured or bitten. Or dead. She was tough, no doubt about it, and handy with a weapon. He had shown her how to hunt, how to find water...maybe she is okay, after all. Maybe she is out there in the woods somewhere, completely fine, living off the land, just like he would if he was in the same position. Or maybe she never got the chance to escape in to the woods. Maybe she never left the farm. Maybe...

There are too many maybes, Daryl thinks, too many what-ifs. The most likely outcome is that he'll never see her again, he rationalises. The most likely outcome is that she never made it away from the farm because she's dead. And even if she didn't die that night, there's still starvation, exposure, and dehydration to consider. How long can someone live out in the woods, with virtually nothing? He thinks of his younger self getting lost alone in the woods, and his older self camping out there for fun. It's not too hard to find water or food...but then again, when he was camping, there were never walkers to worry about.

The next morning, Daryl and T-Dog are sent out to find fuel and whatever meagre supplies they can scavenge, and if T-Dog notices Daryl tearing strips off his shirt and tying them to lamp-posts on the way back to their camp, he doesn't ask why. Nobody asks why, actually, when Daryl rips another strip off his shirt and leaves it on top of one of the broken-down walls that formed their perimetre, held in place by a rock. As he steps on to his bike, he watches the fabric waving in the breeze. If she comes by this way, he reasons, she'll see it. She'll know.

It only takes a couple of days for Carol to approach and ask him if he's okay, ask why he's so reserved. As he looks up in to her dark eyes he decides that he hates her. He hates her mothering, hates her constant attention, hates her neediness and refusal to let him be. She'd have been dead in a second if he didn't go back for her and take her to the others on his bike. She had no ability in the woods, no idea how to use a gun, and her skill set extends mostly to doing laundry and preparing powdered eggs. If he hadn't had to rescue her, he thinks, Andrea would be here. It's as simple as that. If he hadn't been preoccupied taking care of Carol, it would have been Andrea on that bike. He would not have left without her.

He dismisses her thoughtlessly and goes back to keeping watch. He always volunteers to keep watch now, looking out over the road and fields for any sound or sign of movement. Any rustle in the bushes, any swaying of tall grass - it could be her, following his trail, making her way back to him. To them, he corrects himself, to them. Because after knowing that he left her, could she really look him in the eyes again?

His eyes are starting to look bloodshot and bruised, and Rick comments one morning that he can take first watch, to let Daryl get some shut eye. It's then that his resentment passes to Rick. Rick, who dissuaded him from turning back; Rick, who has decided he's going to run the group like the Sultan of fucking Brunei without a care for anyone else's opinion. He has a begrudging respect for the man and the decisions he's made, but can't warm to his heartlessness, can't see the world in the same black-and-white view that he does. It's easy for Rick to go around like he doesn't have a care in the world, he has his son and his wife with him. But what about Daryl? Merle still could be back in Atlanta getting chewed apart by walkers for all he knows. Andrea could be lying dead in the woods. But so long as Rick has Carl and Lori, he's happy.

Eventually they move on again, and Daryl leaves another piece of his shirt tied to a tree. Half his shirts are starting to look like they've been mangled by wolves, but he can't bring himself to care. He scans the landscape again before they pull away, looking for - what? Does he think she's going to appear over the horizon, running towards him in a white gown like in some kind of fucking romance novel? He knows exactly what his brother would say at this point - she's dead, dickweed, move on - but he can't. He lies alone in his tent that night, unable to sleep. He thinks often about going back for her, just turning his bike around and leaving the group without a word, but then he thinks of Merle, thinks of Sophia - he tried to find them, and what? Neither of them are here. Sophia's dead. He searched day after day for that little girl and it never mattered. Merle, at least, is tough enough to survive on his own...he never needed Daryl. Neither does Andrea, probably, he reasons. No matter if he looks for her or stays with the group, it won't make a lick of difference. Useless as tits on a bull, is what Merle had once said to Daryl during an argument; and that's exactly how he feels right now.

He rolls on to his side, and watches the night turn to day through the wall of his tent.

They keep moving on and on, towards what, none of them know; and Daryl keeps leaving little signs for her - torn fabric, food wrappers tied together, rocks in the shape of an arrow. He's midway through tearing the a strip off his tent-flap one morning when Glenn crouches down next to him, claps a hand on his shoulder, and says, "Dude. Just write her a note". In his hand is a piece of note paper and a pen.

So he does.

Andrea -
If you read this, we're heading East.
We didn't mean to leave you.
Stay safe. Please try to find us.
- Daryl.

"Is that all you have to say to her?" Glenn asks, from over Daryl's shoulder.

Daryl swats Glenn away, irritated, and looks back at the note. He frowns, then picks up the pen again.

I love you.