The next morning Daryl was all business. Frances had already placed Clara in Dale's care and met up with Rick. Daryl joined in as Rick finished laying down the ground rules. Randall was to be blindfolded while she examined him. She was not allowed to talk, but if she had questions she could relay them through Daryl. Shane, Rick and Daryl had developed a list of questions Daryl was to ask. Rick left the technical and tactical stuff to Daryl. It was probably his only chance the ex-cop wouldn't stop him from throwing a few punches.

Together Frances and Daryl made their way to the barn. Frances' feet felt heavier with each approaching step. She sidled up to Daryl, which didn't go unnoticed by the tracker. They were close enough to the shed to hear the shackles clink.

Daryl's calloused hand steadied her to the side of the shed where she was still facing the farm. He had to make sure Randall couldn't see her. Daryl handed her a gun before going inside. The metal on the grip was cool in her hand. It scared her how comfortably it fit in her grasp. She had been getting better at shooting, and would probably have been just as good as Andrea if she hadn't quit partaking in Shane's lessons. A striking blow could be heard from inside. Frances cringed at the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

"Shut up!" she heard Daryl instruct the boy. "Sit still!"

Just then the door swung open. Daryl stepped out wiping his hand on the rag from his back pocket. He threw her a look which asked "Are you coming?" She quietly secured the gun in the back waistband of her jeans. Once inside she moved with stealth that Daryl's tracker instincts admired, the floor barely creaked as she examined Randall from all angles. It was hard to get a full image of him, the boy had his eyes covered and he was shaking furiously. His head moved in all directions. As she inched closer a hand tugged her back. She jumped, and turned to see Daryl's hard look. She had gotten too close for his liking.

After five minutes of intense scrutiny she shook her head. She had never seen this boy before. He was at least ten years younger than her, his whiny voice proved it. Daryl had warned him twice about shutting up. He didn't want to have to hit him in front of Frances, but he would if need be. He warned Randall that there'd be a time when he'd want the boy to talk, and it wasn't now.

Daryl held the door for Frances as she stepped out. He secured it behind him and the two walked far enough away to discuss Frances' findings. "I've never seen him before." She admitted. "Doesn't mean he isn't part of them. He could have joined the night you took off."

"I know," Frances said fiddling with her shirt sleeve. "Hopefully you find that out."

Daryl cracked his knuckles before nodding. The sound made Frances look away in disgust. She grabbed his hand to make the cracking stop. "I'm headed back. Let me know how it goes. And please be careful."

Daryl hoped she'd kiss him before leaving, but instead she simply walked away. Perhaps it was selfish for him to expect that from her; after all she was just face to face with someone who was potentially part of a group that raped her. It had to have been difficult for her to see him. With a sudden fury Daryl entered the shed. He hadn't lost his temper in a long time. Since, Sophia actually.

"Please, man!" Randall kept repeating. "C'mon man, please don't hurt me!"

Daryl removed the cloth from across his eyes. Were these the eyes of a rapist? He was determined to find out. He knew there were certain questions Rick needed answered, but he had a few of his own. He couldn't decide which took precedence.

Daryl returned to camp with bloody knuckles. Carol was visibly upset with him. Frances knew it had to be done. Daryl confirmed her worst nightmare. If his group rolled up, the men would be dead and the women would wish they were. Daryl even mentioned that Randall's group was thirty men deep. They had more than doubled since her escape. Frances focused on her breathing. She needed to find Clara. The girl had gone with Carl and Jimmy to feed the chickens. She didn't stick around to hear the rest of Daryl's findings.

It had been decided that they would leave Randall eighteen miles out. They would leave him a knife and the clothes on his back, nothing more. Daryl was uncomfortable with it, Frances was also. As much as she hated the idea of ending his life, it seemed like the safest option.

Frances approached Daryl before they were leaving. "Are you going too?" She inquired.

"No, I'm staying back here. This is something Rick and Shane need to handle." Daryl made it sound like he was talking about more than just Randall. Frances pressed her head into the crook of his neck. "Good, I don't want you leaving."

Daryl slowly wrapped his arm around her waist all while making sure no one was around to witness their interaction. He liked having someone openly care for him. It was a new and welcomed feeling.

Later that night Rick, Shane and Randall arrived back at the Greene's. They looked like hell. Something had happened, a dynamic had changed. The survivors retired to their tents without a formal dinner. Many slipped away with not so much as a good night. An impending meeting would be held tomorrow concerning the hostage in which everyone would be present. No one was looking forward to it.

That night Dale and Frances served a watch shift together. Dale had been emotional and talkative while Frances remained sullen and withdrawn. They had opposing views concerning the fate of Randall. Frances was grateful for the darkness, it helped shadow Dale's disappointed gaze.

When her shift ended she was greeted by Daryl at the foot of the RV ladder. He wasn't serving a shift for a few hours, and had simply felt like walking her to her tent. He knew she was upset, but he didn't press it. Instead, she opened up to him. "Dale and I are arguing," Her voice was low. "Am I a bad person for wanting Randall dead?"

Daryl knew what to say to her, but he was shocked. No one ever confided in him, or sought him out for advice. Yet here she was, beautiful and kind and concerned, asking for his opinion of her character. He, a Dixon, should be the last to judge someone.

"You want to feel safe. You already gave people a chance and that turned out to be a mistake. You trusted again with me-with us- and it wasn't. I think you give people a fair chance. You have yourself and your girl to look out for. Randall's a threat. You wanting to eliminate the threat doesn't make you a bad person, it makes you a good…protector." He had wanted to say mother, but didn't think it was exactly the right word to use.

"Thanks Daryl. You're the best protector I know." She gave him another hug. Hugs were becoming normal for them, and she liked it. Based off of the way his arms lingered on her, he enjoyed them also.