We Didn't Start The Fire

by Lynnth2014

When a child goes missing and calling the police isn't an option, homicide detective Carol Williams is targeted and taken by a drug lord to recover the child. She soon finds herself caught up in a web of murder, drugs, a territory war, and a killer who never took his eyes off of her and everything she holds dear.

20. The Devil's Share

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

––

Carol peered in on Sam as he slept, all coiled up, hugging tightly to his stuffed monkey. He was so exhausted after their day with Andrea and Caesar. Caesar was definitely ready to have children; he was practically a child himself though. He acted more like a ten year old than Sam did. She wasn't sure where Andrea stood on children. They weren't married just yet. They wanted a fall wedding, and it was the only time Dale and Amy could make time to come. They didn't want a big wedding, so it was just immediate family and a couple friends—Carol, Rick, Sam, Jacqui, and Michonne. When it was over, she bet Caesar wouldn't wait the night to start talking about children.

She heard a knock on the door and minded her footing as to avoid squeaky floorboards that would wake Sam on her way to the front door, seeing Rick through the peephole, soaking wet and pale with a haunted expression flashing in his blue eyes. She let him in and closed the door behind him, locking it. She went to his side.

"Rick, what happened? Are you all right?"

His wide eyes and raised right brow were non-responsive.

"I'll get you a towel." She grabbed three from the hall closet and a washrag. She set one towel down on the couch, moving him over it and pushing him down. She draped a towel around his shoulders and had a seat on the coffee table behind her, picking up the washrag to dry his hair, and he grabbed her wrist. "What?"

"I...need to tell you something," he whispered, his voice hoarse in a way she had never heard.

"What do you need to tell me?" She set her hand over his and lowered it, freeing her wrist. "You can tell me anything, Rick. You know that."

"I know," he muttered. "I know."

"So...what is it?"

"Do you remember the case I was working? The asshole rapist?"

"Yes, you shot and killed him while he was stalking his next victim."

"Yeah. Yeah, I did that."

"Rick, what are you trying to tell me?" Her eyes ran over his face, soaking in what his eyes and body language were giving away. "Rick... Did you—?"

"It wasn't a good shooting." He moved closer to her, their faces only inches apart, and Carol swallowed hard at his words. "It wasn't good."

"Rick, taking a life is hard, no matter how disgusting and cruel its been spent, but—"

"No, Carol." Their eyes locked. "I killed him. I killed him."

"You killed him, I know."

"He wasn't stalking anybody," he informed her. "He was just...walking out of a restaurant, happy as he could be and no shits to give. He didn't have a gun on him either. There was nobody around. It was pretty late. So I followed him, and he must've known someone was on him, so he went down an alley. He was waiting for me, smirking and cocky, and I...smirked back, just before I put two in his chest."

"Oh my God, Rick. Why? Why would you do that?"

"Because the week before he was out and had just been spotted, so he's running. Running crazy to try and escape when he saw an off duty cop, still in uniform, and he thought he was after him, so he started shooting blindly. And that motherfucker killed his two year old daughter in the backseat." His once wide eyes were now full of tears. "Morales survived. We sent him flowers. But his little girl Violet... She uh, she didn't make it off the table."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh God." She had heard about that. She and Sam sent a card to the Morales', but a card wasn't enough to lessen their anguish. They had lost their child, and that was going to linger with them for the rest of their lives. God be with them.

"We were all so busy trying to save Violet that he escaped. I wasn't gonna risk that happening again. I couldn't." He ran a hand through his hair. "I had to, Carol. I had to. He got Devil's share."

"The what?" Carol opened her eyes, brows meeting in confusion.

"You know, the Devil's share—that's what you call it when a man like that gets his. It's the way the world balances itself out."

"Why are you telling me this?" She knew what she had said at the start of the conversation, but this wasn't something he should tell anybody.

"I had to tell someone, and...then I found myself outside your building."

"Well...I won't tell anyone, but you should go home." She rose and headed back to her room to get the bag he left. "It's late. Lori is probably worried sick about you. I can give you a change of clothes, I think you left some here when you babysat Sam last. They might not fit, because I washed them and they shrunk a little, but it's better than letting you wear those wet clothes a second more. I'll lend you an umbrella."

"How is Sam?" He hung outside her bedroom, keeping his voice now.

"He's well. He's asleep now, but he's okay. Why?"

"Just...wanted to make sure."

"Sam will be okay, Rick. He'll live well into his nineties, and we'll have two or three beautiful grandchildren. And I know he and his future siblings will get along great." She smiled when he tilted his head at the siblings comment. She wasn't seeing anybody at the moment. "I know how serious you and Lori are, and I think it's nice you have someone."

"Thanks." He felt a little weird to be blushing after the conversation they had. "Are you seeing anyone right now?"

"No. I'm too busy with Sam and work. Although if I keep it up, Andrea will force me to go out clubbing with her. She's already asking to set me up for her wedding." She rolled her eyes and laughed a little. "Speaking of, are you coming to the wedding?"

"Caesar and Andrea's wedding?"

"Unless you have another wedding you've been invited to."

"Yeah. I'm thinking about bringing Lori with me. As my plus one."

"That's a good idea. I'd like to get to know her better. Our first meeting wasn't so great. And Sam should get to know her. I think it would be easier for him to accept you two dating if he got to know Lori first." She spotted the bag in her closet and handed it to him. "It'll make big news like engagements and pregnancies easier. I'll make you some coffee for the way back."

"But we're not engaged or pregnant. She's not."

"Not yet, but you know how Sam was born. He wasn't at all planned. Things happen, and I don't want him to hate you or her. So do bring her to the wedding."

"All right." He tapped her arm. "Hey, I just wanted to say thank you, Carol, for understanding."

"It wasn't good...but it was right." She met his eyes. "And it's between us."

He nodded, feeling better.

She watched him slip into the bathroom then stepped into the kitchen to make a half pot of coffee. She didn't think Rick could do something like that, and it was more of vengeance than justice. The asshole did murder a child and almost the father as well, among other heinous things, so maybe a little vengeance was needed. He was where he belonged now, and the rest didn't matter. They couldn't change what happened, and Rick wasn't a murderer. It wouldn't happen twice. It clearly weighed heavily on him, and that would be a reminder for him to never do that again. She trusted that and him.

She shook her head and expelled a breath. She knew Rick. She knew him like the back of her hand. He had already been cleared for the shooting, and he was seeing the therapist Michonne had brought in. He would be all right in time, and they were fine now, just so long as he didn't end up eating a bullet. He wasn't in good shape, and while he didn't regret the killing...he was regretting something. Or worried about something. The Devil's share. Where the hell did that come from?

Rick stepped out of the bathroom, bag shouldered, and he looked in on Sam. He smiled, happy to his son sleeping peacefully. He was grateful his son wasn't in harm's way, not like Violet, and he hoped Sam forever stayed safe. If there was a price to pay for his actions, he could only hope he would be the one to pay it, not Sam or Carol or Lori. He would do his best to keep them safe. He always would. He hoped the price wasn't too high.

"Here." She held out a to-go coffee mug.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Why don't I call you a cab?"

"I appreciate this."

"I know." She set a hand on his shoulder. "It hasn't always been easy between us, and we weren't always friends, but I have your back."

"And I have yours."

"I know that too." She smiled and picked up the phone, finding the number on the fridge. "Have a seat, but don't turn on the TV. It might wake Sam."

"So," he picked up the lighter from her coffee table and rolled it between his hands, "do you want Andrea to set you up?"

"Not really. The men she knows are all stuck up assholes or worse. We have two very different types, and I'd rather not get into it with her." She peered at him, the phone ringing. "Why do you ask?"

"'Cause if you need it, Shane can be your plus one. It'd get Andrea off your back."

"Really?"

"Yeah. He and Andrea don't know each other all that well, and he owes me. You two got along pretty well, if I recall."

"We did." She set a hand on the counter. "Okay. Yeah, that would be nice."

"I'll give him a call." He smiled a little. He didn't expect it to be so normal between them now that she knew. It had been eating at him to tell someone, and while he would have told Lori, he wasn't sure. Carol had always been close through Sam, and he would tell Lori one day. What he needed right now was a friend, and Carol was that friend. He was so appreciative of her support. He hoped Lori felt the same.

He truly hoped she could make it to the wedding as well. Sam was going to love her, until he learned she was dating his father. They would have a lot to work through, but they would get through it. Carol and Lori and he would make sure of that. They were a family now, and they would work it out. That's what family did. It was funny that Carol, who had grown up with no real family of her own, understood family better than he did. What she's done for him and was still doing for him... She was an incredible person and an invaluable friend. He was so grateful to have her in his life.

– – –

Daryl knocked on the door to Aaron's hospital room, Sophia holding the flowers they'd picked out for him along with a card, and he smiled at them. He was alone, so Eric must have gone to the bathroom or to get something to eat.

"Daryl. It's good to see you. I wasn't expecting you."

"I just wanted to see how you were. You didn't look so good back...there."

"I'm going to be fine, with some physical therapy and time." He smiled. "Thank you for keeping your word."

He nodded.

"We brought flowers." Sophia crossed over to him, holding up a bundle of various flowers. "And a card."

"That's so sweet." Eric joined them, holding a cup of coffee. "Thank you, honey."

She smiled, her entire face lighting up. "You're welcome."

"So, how are you?" Daryl inquired. "How did you even get there?"

Aaron gestured for him to have a seat and straightened, groaning under his breath. "Well, it's a long story."

Daryl let Sophia have the only free chair and leaned against the wall behind her. "I've got time."

He rubbed his jaw and lowered his hand. "It was my fault."

"No, it wasn't," Eric insisted the second those words left Aaron's lips.

Aaron just glanced at him before continuing. "I...was doing work with a support group, helping teens and young adults come to terms with their sexuality and let them know they're not alone, that they always can come to us with any problem. I've been doing it for years, and one of the teenagers spoke to me about his father. His dad was a cop, but...recently he had been purchasing things that weren't in his budget."

"His dad was dirty," Daryl deduced.

Aaron nodded. "He had suspicions and just wanted to talk to somebody about it. He came to the group sessions but rarely spoke and sat in the back with his hood up. He didn't know anybody else there, but he was getting better. He started to speak more and stopped wearing the hoodie, stopped trying to make himself disappear into the background." He shook his head, eyes downward. "After a couple of weeks I noticed that he started wearing the hoodie again—only this time to cover bruises. I paid his family a visit and caught his dad with Andrew. He was paying him off."

Daryl folded his arms. "They see you?"

"Yeah. His dad threatened me and...a few weeks later the Governor came to see me. I guess he had men observing me. I thought he was simply going to kill me because I was a loose end. Instead...he came to one of my sessions, and he studied me the entire hour then made me a deal."

"What kind of deal?" Sophia met his eyes.

"Either I help him, or he was going to kill Eric." He looked over at the man beside him, who looked back at him with equal love and admiration, taking his hand. "He didn't know about Eric's computer skills until much later, and when he did, he kept Eric there then me when he couldn't force Eric to do what he wanted. We'd been down there for almost nine months before you all came."

"Shit." Daryl pushed off the wall. "Nobody tried to...find you?"

"My parents live out of state," Eric replied, "and we only really speak on holidays. And Aaron's parents... Well, they're not around."

"I'm sorry," Sophia whispered.

"Don't be." Eric smiled at her. "It worked out for the best. We're so thankful for you all being kidnapped."

She laughed. "Then you're welcome."

Daryl snorted softly. "Hey, Sophia?"

"Yeah?" She tilted her head back to look up at him.

"Why don't you go get something to drink for us?" He pulled money from his wallet. "You know the way, right?"

"I'll go," Eric offered. "I need to stretch my legs anyway."

"You sure?"

"We can go together, and Aaron can keep Sophia company." He rose from his seat.

"All right. Behave." Daryl gave a nod to Aaron then left with Eric.

Aaron inhaled and scanned the room then met the girl's eyes. "So, how have you been?"

"Haven't slept much," she admitted. "Dad wants to send me to a therapist, and...my uncle's going to prison."

"I'm sorry to hear that, but there is a bright side."

"I know." She sighed. "I just...wish it could've turned out better."

"Better how?"

"I know my uncle has done bad things, and he shouldn't get off, but...I wish he didn't have to go away for the rest of his life. It doesn't seem fair. Phillip deserves it." She pursed her lips. "And I guess Merle does too. It just feels...wrong."

"I know what you mean."

"It stinks, but...at least I still get to see him." She turned her head and noticed the card on his bedside table. "Carol came to see you?"

"Huh?" He followed her gaze. "Yeah, Detective Williams was here. She wanted to see how I was doing. She's a nice woman."

Her face fell. "She hasn't been to see me."

"She hasn't?"

"No," she murmured, shaking her head. "Dad says...she's busy. Dad says a lot of things, a lot of excuses really."

"I'm sure she's trying. She was in a rush when she came to check on me, and it was really just another statement I had to give."

"I was there too," Sophia argued. "I saw a lot of people. I heard a lot of things. I know she doesn't want to see me, because Detective Martinez took our statements. He wouldn't even answer my questions about her. All I wanted to say was thank you, and I can't. She won't let me! And I don't understand why!"

"I don't know the woman, but she may not like praise. Maybe she doesn't like to be embarrassed or the center of attention."

"He wouldn't even give me her number."

"Well..." He didn't want to say what he knew about Williams and the girl, so he offered her the card with her work and cell phone number on it. "Here. Eric has one too."

"Really?"

"Really." He held it out. "Give her a call and thank her."

"Thank you." She accepted the card and held it close between her hands.

"You're welcome."

––

Daryl and Eric made their way to the pop machine. Daryl had hoped it would work out this way. He needed to speak to Eric alone. He wouldn't tell Sophia about Carol, not like this. He had to come and see them, mostly to make sure Aaron was going to be okay. He looked like shit before, and he just had to know. Now he needed to ask Eric something.

Daryl got a root beer for himself and a cola for Sophia. "Why didn't you tell the Governor about Carol sooner?"

He crossed his arms and peered at Daryl. "I was trying to protect her. I knew he wanted both mother and child, and I figured if I could prevent him from knowing who her mother is...I could keep him from kidnapping her. I was wrong."

"So, he didn't know who Carol was when they took us?"

"No, but he did soon after. He could tell I was withholding information, so he...took out his anger and disappointment on Aaron to beat it out of me." His eyes had widened, and Daryl could see he was still there in that room, tied down, watching the man he loved take a beating meant for him.

"It wasn't your fault," Daryl informed him. "Phillip was an asshole."

He nodded and his lips gave a small smile, but his eyes told Daryl he did blame himself. "We've kept it to ourselves. I deleted any files about that from the computer. No one will be able to retrieve it."

"Carol asked you the same question?"

He nodded. "I know why she did what she did." He had seen the slight eye roll Daryl have given. "You can't imagine the strength of that woman."

His brows furrowed at that. "What do you mean?"

"I found more...on her, and... well, she's a survivor. Anything more is her business." He exhaled. "Let's get back to them. Unless you have more questions."

"No, no that was it." He watched Eric leave then pondered what he meant. What had Carol gone through? He needed to speak to her, and soon. After standing him up so rudely and not even bothering to answer her phone, it was time he got answers. She was right; they both had explaining to do, and he wasn't going to let that be swept under a rug. He would just have to hunt the woman down.

– – –

Carol curled up beside Andrea, feeling Keira asleep in between her and Andrea's legs. Caesar was unconscious on the floor with a pillow and half the duvet draped across him, and Rosita was on the other side of Carol. The TV still played the movie they had fallen asleep to, cartons of food littered the nightstand and floor, mugs of hot tea and chocolate milk and half full glasses of water along with them. They were all sleeping peacefully, an unconventional family—and sleeping arrangement.

Carol woke to a phone call in the morning, and she felt the world stop at the words that filled her ear. She showered and dressed, dismissing any offers of food, only taking coffee. She went down to the station and met with Michonne, feeling a knot in her stomach.

She gripped the frame of the open window, the air washing over her face, eyes squeezed shut. "I need to see it."

"Are you sure?" Michonne looked her over. "You don't—"

"I need to see it," she repeated, straightening and locking eyes with Michonne. "Please."

While the crime scene unit had done its sweep of the half collapsed building, they had found an armory. The room had been ransacked shortly before the police arrived as it was in disarray, but they had found a weapon that had been used in more than a dozen cold cases. It had no finger prints on it, but the ballistics confirmed it was a match to those cases and more importantly to one man.

The sniper rifle had modifications made to it, and it was clearly a favorite. He would sorely miss it, Carol thought as she ran her eyes over the weapon. She could feel her hands shaking, though upon looking they weren't. She was shaking on the inside—her knees and her hands. It wasn't from fear; it was from fire. It was consuming her, preparing her for the next person she would become. As hope filled her being, she knew that after today she wasn't going to be the same woman who had been locked in a refrigerated truck, just as she was no longer the woman who had lost her son. They were still with her, but no longer her. And now she was becoming someone new; someone who wouldn't have to hide her life for fear of that bastard shooting holes into it again.

She ran her fingers over two letters carved into the stock. "Huh."

"What?" Michonne joined her, having seen this weapon for the first time. "Are those...initials?"

"Perhaps." She gazed at them. "Or his name."

"If you have any plans," Michonne instructed, "cancel them."

"Already done." She met her eyes. "I won't let that son of a bitch escape this time, Michonne. If I have to stay awake for weeks, I will find him."

"We will find him," she corrected. "We're a family here, and when you screw with one of us, you screw with all of us."

She smiled a little and nodded. She felt Michonne place a hand on her arm as she passed, going to call in the others, and Carol inhaled, letting her instincts and everything she knew about this son of a bitch take over. She wasn't going to let him slip through her fingers again.

Exiting the room, those two small letters seared into her brain. E.D.

– – –

"I'll only help you if you help me," Phillip repeated to Carol.

"I'm not going to make a deal," Carol hissed. "You're going to pay for everything you did."

"Then...I'm so sorry to inform you, Detective Williams, that I can't help you." He shrugged. "I don't know who E.D is. I've never met anyone with that name or initials."

She ground her teeth. "I'll find him on my own then." She started for the door.

A dark smirk crossed his lips. "You'll never find him, Detective."

She halted and looked over her shoulder at him. "Oh, I never will?"

"He's like a shadow. You'll only find him behind you, and by then...it'll be far too late."

"Well, I've chased shadows before," she informed him. "I've captured them too."

"Not him."

She approached him. "Phillip, you think you know me. You think you can read me like a book, but you don't even know just how wrong you are. You're a hunter, a charmer, a negotiator. You're...a man of many, many masks, and I do admire how you manage to keep track of them all. I'm immune to your charms, and I know my enemy well." She splayed her hands on the table and gazed into his murky eyes. "Let me tell you something: I'm a hunter too. And I will not stop tracking every speck of evidence until I have that son of a bitch in cuffs. I am relentless and ruthless, and I've been around enough of your kind to know I can blend in quite well. I can be invisible, just like him. But...you should be glad I am invisible, Phillip. You really do not want to see me. Because when you do see me...it'll be the last thing you ever see."

His smirk had faded, and now only pulsating green eyes looked back at her, his teeth clenched.

"What's the matter? Did you see something you didn't like?" She stepped back. "Rot in hell. And save a seat for your buddy."

"You may have teeth," he called to her, "but you don't have—"

"Do not tell me what I do or not have!" she snapped. "I know my skills, and I know how far I am willing to go. You will not get a deal, and I will not allow you to ever see the light of day as a free man. You set fire to yourself the moment you kidnapped my little girl, and now...the flames are going to swallow you whole. I'll see to that." She opened the door and exited the room.

"No luck?" Martinez caught her on the way out.

"He didn't talk, but he's knows something." She dug out her keys. "He's going to do something. This E.D. or Ed. He's going to strike again, and I need to make sure you all are safe."

"We will be."

She met his eyes and saw it. He had her back. He believed in her. He knew she would keep them safe. She could see that he would die to keep her safe. She saw it all. That's why they were such good partners. They could read each other well. Carol knew how to hide things, even from him, and it wasn't fair. She might not be able to explain her past to Daryl, but she needed to eat, and Caesar needed to know the truth. It had been a long time coming.

"Let's go grab a bit to eat." She unlocked the car. "Your favorite place."

"You hate their sandwiches. The meatballs upset your stomach."

"Then I won't order the meatball."

He was wary. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes, now let's go before I change my mind."

Piling into the car, she drove to his favorite restaurant. It was a nice little place, and Eastman—the owner and maker of all the cheeses—was kind and good company. His kids were precious, and they sometimes were here after school. Carol knew them well. She couldn't stomach the meatballs, but she enjoyed the people and the conversation. And the dessert.

It was a good place to do this. She had broken bad and good news to Caesar here many times, and he's done the same with her. It was the place Carol really met Caesar and Karen and Gloria. Eastman's father used to work here, and he was just as generous as his son. He kept Carol fed most days, and he introduced her to her family. He couldn't take care of her, and honestly she fought like hell to let him know he didn't have to. He still did all he could for her. It only made sense she should tell Caesar his family was a bit bigger than the seven of them, even if three were in Heaven.

They were greeted by Eastman, and they spent some time talking with him. Caesar promised to come in later to give him a more thorough catch up, and they ordered, finding their table. Carol could still see the three letters she had carved into the wood when she was a girl. Those words were all that kept her going most of the time, and it was nice to see them when she needed them.

Caesar caught her tracing the curve of the J and felt cold inside. Every time he saw her doing that, he saw the small, messy little ginger who he was stunned to know was the same age as him. She was so small, so on guard, and he was grateful to have Karen be there. Mom might have taken her in, but it was Karen who brought Carol back to being human again. Karen had a way with people, with breaking down walls no matter how tall and thick they were. He used to be envious of their relationship, but he wasn't a kid anymore. He knew there were things Carol could only tell Karen, and he accepted that.

"Hey." He reached over and caught her hand. "You wanted to talk."

She inhaled, returning to now with him and nodded. She set her hands in her lap and drew in her breath, her heart racing. She had never hidden something so critical from Caesar before and while she did want to confess, she was terrified of how he would respond. She could only take a leap of faith. Perhaps he would still be there to catch her. Or let her fall into a puddle of mud like when they were kids. Ass.

"Do you remember my undercover work? The second time, I mean."

"Yeah, you were shot."

"I wasn't undercover. I hadn't been shot." She swallowed. "I was pregnant."

"Pregnant?" His face revealed nothing.

"Yes. I met a man at a bar, and we...conceived a child. I didn't know until a couple weeks later, and by that point the man and I were no longer together or even speaking. I knew the sniper was after me, and I couldn't bare to lose that child to him. I hid it as well as I could, even from the people I love and trust the most. Michonne helped me hide it, and by accident Rosita discovered I was pregnant too. You know how painfully nosy she can be." She could feel the tears in her eyes as she explained herself. "I couldn't put that baby in harm's way, so I put her up for adoption. Closed adoption."

"Rosita knew?"

She nodded, the tears burning as they muddied her vision.

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes large, and he started shaking his head. "What else? You know more than that, or you wouldn't have told me. What else is there?"

"I found her." Her voice hitched. "The little girl who was kidnapped...is my daughter."

He stared. "Christ, then that man, the Archer's brother, is her father?"

"I didn't know that at the time. I was drunk when we first met, and...we didn't exactly swap backgrounds. I didn't even know until Phillip told us." She searched his face. "She doesn't know yet, but with the sniper at large and having worked with Phillip, he might. He might be after her, and I need you to help me keep her safe."

He slammed his fist down on the table, she flinched, and he stormed out.

"Caesar." She hurried after him, catching him outside, gripping the back of a metal bench. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before now. I was just trying to protect you. If he knew you might know about her... I couldn't let you get hurt because of me again. Or Andrea or Keira. He took my son, and Rick, and there was way in hell I was going to let him take your wife and child."

He spun around and got in her face, not able to speak, his emotions so mixed that she couldn't read his eyes.

She dropped her gaze. "I'm sorry."

"Christ." He scoffed, racked a hand through his hair and unable to look at the woman before him. He inhaled deeply and let it out then he embraced her, and she was stunned. He squeezed his eyes shut. "You don't have to apologize to me. I get it. Of course I get it."

She let out a small laugh, tears falling free, and she smiled. "Then why did you storm out?"

He pulled back to look at her. "Because I'm pissed at you."

"You just said you understood."

"I do. You did the right thing. You did the thing I could never have done, and you're still...here. You did what was best for you and your child, and that pain...is what pisses me off. The after is what pisses me off. You had to endure that alone. All these years." He looked tormented. "I've moaned and groaned about a lot of shit, and you had this. I kept pushing you to see Keira, and...you never even got to see your own daughter. I'm so sorry. And you're an asshole."

She smiled. "I wasn't alone."

"Yeah, Michonne is great, but she's not your partner, not...family. Well, not like you and me."

"Nobody's like you and me."

"That's true." He ran his eyes over hers. "I don't know how you do the things you do, Carol Williams."

"Because I have to."

"You don't have to do it alone though. Promise me that whatever happens with the sniper, you'll never go through anything like that alone again."

"I doubt I'll go through that again, but I promise."

He shook his head and hugged her. "We'll make that bastard pay for this. For Sam and Rick and Sophia."

She didn't respond. She knew these coming days were going to be the hardest of her career. They were before, but now she had more to lose. If she didn't stop him, he wouldn't stop killing the people she loved. She knew that the last time they had crossed paths, and there was no Governor to stop him this time. She would have to decide how this ended, and she knew it wasn't going to be simple. It would be the hardest choice of her life, and she could only hope she would make it correctly. The Devil's share or justice. In the end it would be her and him, just as it had been all along. She had made a promise at Sam's grave, the grave where Rick's blood had been split, and she was coming to a point where she could act on it. And that was petrifying, more so than telling the truth.

They returned to their table, and Carol explain that year to him over lunch. It was easy to tell him about Daryl kidnapping her since he knew about Rosita. They had found out what the other knew when they started to investigate Rosita. She was clean so far, but that didn't mean much. There were still many things to go over, and she had been with Daryl for over a decade. She might get lucky, or she might fry. They didn't know how it would work out, but they were going to do their best to make sure they saw her as she was: a good, clean cop.

Carol had struggled with her opinion of Rosita for hours, but she knew in her heart nothing would change all the good Rosita had done. Rosita had been with Carol through a lot of awful and wonderful things, and nothing could taint those memories. If Sophia had been hurt as badly as Carol or had been raped as Carol feared she had, she wouldn't be so kind. But her daughter was safe. Rosita had done her best to keep her that way, and Carol respected that. She had been there for her little girl when Carol couldn't be, through flus and shots and cavities and just knowing that someone Carol knew and loved was in her child's life, especially someone like Rosita, warmed her heart.

"Have you talked to her?" Caesar drank from his glass.

"No. I haven't spoken to her since we were in the truck." She ate a piece of meat that fell from her sandwich. "And it's best that we don't speak, not until the sniper is either dead or arrested."

"You can't ignore her. You're bonded now."

"How are we bonded?"

"When you nearly die with someone, you bond. Why do you think we're so close?"

She chuckled. "That's a good point, but no. She doesn't need me in her life, and I'm better on my own."

"Translation: you're scared shitless."

"Of course I am. Caesar, it's not a normal situation. At least with Sam, I was in his life every day. With Sophia...I only met her because I was kidnapped by her father who needed my help to find her. I can't explain the sniper and Sam to a ten year old."

"How about to her father?"

"I'll try."

"He'll understand. And if he doesn't, he has a stupid haircut and you deserve better."

She smirked. "I'm not a child. I don't need him to understand, I just need him to know why I made the choices I did."

He nodded.

"Enough about me. How are things with Keira and Andrea?"

"We installed a security system."

"It's about damn time."

"I know." He finished his lunch. "Keira still has nightmares. It's only been three days, but she insisted on sleeping with us, and she has to have a light on. Andrea's worried about her, and I've asked Denise to speak with Keira a couple times a week."

"Denise? Why?"

"She happens to be a therapist when she's not dissecting dead bodies."

"Huh. I didn't know that."

"You've been busy tracking down killers."

"Still. It's odd how much I've missed. Heh, maybe once the sniper is behind bars, I can rest easy, return to being more than a cop."

"I'd like to see that. Just a bit."

"Only a bit?"

"Yeah."

She laughed. "I'd like that too."

"I have some big news. Well, sort of. It depends."

"You're blabbering. What is it?"

"Andrea and I are...thinking about having more kids."

She gaped. "You are?"

"Yeah. Not right now, but soon. She wanted to stop with Keira, but...she changed her mind. We said we'd talk about it again when Keira was older, and we both want a bigger family. I want to try for a boy."

"That's great news, Caesar."

"It is. We spent the entire night discussing it, and we have the room. We have the financial stability as well. We weren't entirely secure money wise with Keira, and that was a bit of mess. Well, you know."

"Yeah, but you made it through all right. Keira's a good kid, and you're both good parents."

"Thank you. So are you."

She blinked, not sure how she felt about that, and she smiled for him. "Lunch is over. We should head back."

"Let's catch ourselves a sniper."

––

Back at the station, Carol was more than stunned to find someone waiting for her at her desk. Caesar had to nudge her forward, and she just kept walking, unable to stop until she was beside them. She set her coffee down and met her eyes.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you." Sophia smiled a little. "Abe dropped me off. I made a deal with him, so if Dad asks you picked me up."

"What? No. I am not going to lie for you. You need to go home. I'll call you a cab." She had a seat and picked up her phone.

"Please, wait."

Her gaze moved to the girl. "Why should I?"

"I just—I just wanted to talk to you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disrupt your work. Really, I didn't."

She hung up the phone. "I'm overwhelmed with a case right now, and I don't have time to talk. I'm sorry, sweetheart. That's just how it is. You need to call Daryl and have him come get you."

"I can't. He's in an interview."

"An interview?"

"Yeah. I lied. I'm supposed to be in the car. He's going to be a night watchman at the store...down the street."

"Oh, God." She pressed her hand to her eyes. "Sophia, you can't do that."

"I know. We were just so close by, and you weren't answering your phone."

"How did you get my number?"

"From Aaron. We went to visit him, and I saw your card. He gave it to me so I could call you."

Shit. "Why would you want to call me?"

Her eyes dimmed a little. "T—to thank you."

"Well, you just did, so why don't I have Shepard escort you back to your dad's car."

"So you were lying."

Carol stopped scanning for Shepard and met Sophia's eyes. "Lying?"

"When we were in the truck. I know we're not friends. Kids and adults are never friends, but...you just seemed really nice and really..." She blinked hard to keep the tears away. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."

"Sophia." She reached over and grasped her wrist. "I would love to talk to you, but not right now, not until the case I'm working is solved. It's a very dangerous case, and the man I'm pursuing is unpredictable. I don't want you getting caught in the middle, because you're hanging around me. I'm sorry, but I won't put you at risk. Now please, let me have Shepard take you to your car."

She nodded. "Will you pick up the phone when I call at least?"

"Sure. I'll try."

"Okay. Could you walk me to the car?"

"No."

"She's busy." Caesar joined them. "And she's bad company, so rude. I'll take you. I'll even throw in a cinnamon roll."

"I don't like cinnamon rolls." She made a face.

"Me either," Carol blurted, not sure why she'd said that.

"Fine, I have cookies too."

"He's a good guy." Carol released her wrist. "He'll take care of you, just don't let him talk about food. Once he gets started, he doesn't stop."

She nodded and slipped out of the chair. "Um, could I call tonight?"

"Yeah." She smiled. "Go on."

Sophia wanted to hug her goodbye, but she didn't think Carol would be comfortable with it. She smiled and left with Caesar. She would find a way to thank Carol, like a gesture of thanks, not just words. She hoped whatever she came up with Carol liked it.

Carol met with the stand-in Rosita, who she wasn't warming up to, about the cameras in the Governor's building and around it. She wanted to try and spot the sniper, but so far they only found faces of the men they had either scraped off the floor or hauled off in handcuffs. She didn't see what she knew she would see in the sniper in any of these men. Just as he could sense her, she could sense him. Her stomach turned when he was near, her skin crawled, and she had felt that recently. It wasn't strong enough for her to worry he was right around the corner, but it wasn't dim either. He was watching her trying to find him, and while he thought she wouldn't, she knew she would. This time she was prepared and ready for the risks.

– – –

"Ryan, it's all right. I know you have a lot on your plate right now with the girls." She set her dinner plate in the sink. "And three days is not rude. Three months would be rude. If I got kidnapped and you didn't try to call me at all over the course of three months? I'd kick your ass."

There was a knock on the door.

"I gotta go, but we'll talk more when you're in town next week. Bye." She hung up and weaved through the boxes of the sniper's kills, all the unsolved murders. She had brought them home and was studying them. She would find a pattern that would lead to him. As close as they were, she had to. She wouldn't make a deal with Phillip, so she would just have to use what she had.

Opening the door, she found Daryl on the other side. She wasn't expecting that. She thought it was Rosita. They had plans to review the photos from the crime scenes and then she was going to tell her everything she knew about the Governor's men. So why was he here and not her?

"What brings you by?" She let him inside and collected the files from her coffee table.

"We were supposed to have dinner a couple days ago, but you clearly forgot."

"I didn't forgot." She set the files on the kitchen counter and faced him. "Other things happened."

"More important things, you mean."

"Yes, more important things. I'm trying to track down Phillip's sniper."

"Shit, that ain't important—that's impossible."

"Why do you say that?"

"Guy's like a ghost. Nobody's ever been able to find him, even Rosita. He's not on the grid. It's like he never existed. He doesn't even have finger prints."

She narrowed her eyes. "How do you know that?"

"Crazy motherfucker burned 'em off." He stuffed his hand into his pockets.

"He did?"

"Yeah."

"How do you know?" She crossed her arms. "Did you meet him?"

"No, not me. The guy before me and Merle, he met Phillip's sniper a couple months before he retired. He told me about him, not what he looked like though. He told me he always had a gun on him, had no finger prints and liked to smoke."

"Smoke? Cigarettes? Cigars?"

"I dunno. He never went into detail about him. That's how he was."

"Daryl, that helps me so much. You don't even know how much. I have to go—"

"No, no, you can't just run off now."

"Daryl, this case—"

"—will still be here in the mornin'. Now we need to talk about Sophia. We were gonna have dinner to do that, but you stood me up."

"I did not stand you up. I called the restaurant to tell them to tell you I couldn't make it. I don't have your number, and I have to close this case as soon as possible. You don't know what's at risk here."

"I know what's at risk between us," he retorted. "Now, I don't like keeping this from Sophia, and I know you don't want her to know. I know you told me not to tell her, but I can't do that. If she finds out I knew about you being her mom and that I didn't tell her, she... she will never forgive me. So either you tell her or I will."

She dropped her arms. "I do not have time for this, Daryl. We don't. Now, if you want to tell me more about the sniper or let me meet the man who was the Archer or whatever they called him before you—"

"Why the hell do you care more about the sniper than your own kid?" he shouted. "And why would I help you when you won't even consider talking to me about our situation?"

"Fine, I'll talk to you! We can help each other, but we need to arrange a meeting as soon as tomorrow. Please, I have to know more about the sniper, and I refuse to make a deal with Phillip to learn more."

"Wait, that was on the table?"

"God no. I'd rather cut my own eyes out with a rusted spoon." She shook her head. "So I need to talk to this man. Please, Daryl, just ten minutes. It's all I'm asking for."

"No."

"Why the hell not?"

"All I wanted was a cup of coffee to go over our situation! You changed it to dinner, stood me up and now won't even try to explain yourself. It's just a case. When are you going to realize it's not your entire life?"

She scoffed and met his eyes. "This case is my entire life."

"No. No, it's not."

"Yes, it is! Stop pretending that you know who I am or what I am about, Daryl. We are not the same person! We aren't the same people who met almost eleven years ago! I am a detective first. This is who I am, and I'm not asking you to like this person, because I already have people in my life who do, so either help me or get out."

"I ain't going anywhere until we talk about Sophia."

"For the love of—" She stepped back before she put his head through a wall and rubbed her temples, moving into the kitchen.

He tossed his coat on the couch and moved through the boxes to sit down. "I'm ready when you are."

She spun around. "Unless it's about the man before you, I have nothing to say at this time."

"Then I better get comfortable."

"Goddamn it, Daryl!"

He frowned, not sure why she was so worked up. "What?"

"You don't know what this case means to me," she spoke low, her voice breaking, "what that son of bitch means to me. You think I'm doing all of this because I'm trying to avoid Sophia and you? It's just the opposite. I'm doing this for Sophia, for you. You don't know what..." She stopped and turned from him, trying to calm herself.

"For me? Why would you need to find this guy for me?" He stood up. "Or Sophia? He doesn't know us or have any reason to kill us. We're safe, Carol."

"No. You're not at all safe." She hugged herself. "You'll never be safe until I arrest him."

"What are you talking about? I've never done anything to him."

She faced him, and he was on the other side of the counter. "You met me, Daryl. You slept with me and got me pregnant. That's what you did to him."

"What do you mean? Were you in a—"

"No, no, but that was enough." The tears in her eyes were so heavy that she was scared to blink, because they would fall. She knew he could see them, but still she didn't want them to fall. She didn't want to fall apart again. "It was enough last time."

He met her eyes. "What happened last time?"

"My son and his father were murdered...by him."

Daryl's mouth dried up as the tears she had desperately been trying to push back escaped, her words replying in his mind, soft and full of unmasked grief. He had hoped he heard wrong, but that was foolish. She was right; he didn't know her. He didn't know anything about her. And what he had said to her while they were locked up. How could he have been so stupid? So blind? It was evident only now that he could see the agony in her eyes that it'd been there all along. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose Sophia. He couldn't even think about it as a possibility when he was the face of the Archer. He always made sure there was a plan to keep her safe. He would die before he saw her hurt. In his mind the idea of anything bad happening to her was unthinkable, because he couldn't have a single thought about her dying or worse. It made all of the air in the room vanish, and the earth beneath him fell out, so he couldn't go there. However not only did Carol have no choice but to go there when he dragged her into Sophia's kidnapping, she'd been there already. And somehow she was still here.

She walked over to the couch and collapsed there. "I got pregnant with my son when I was pretty young."

"You don't have to tell me," he whispered.

"No, I do. I...I want to."

He sat beside her. "Then uh, go on."

"Rick was Sam's father. We met through work, but we weren't compatible. We fought a lot. He even kicked me out once. We didn't speak for a long time after that, but...we made up. I got pregnant, and I had his son. I had Sam." Her voice trembled, and all of the misery and anguish returned and clawed at her, but she had to keep going. He had to know how bad it would get. He had to know her reasons for staying away, for giving Sophia up, for standing him up. She couldn't wait. The clock was ticking, and each second that slipped by, he slipped into the shadows, nearing the point of never being found. She needed to do this, and he would see. She knew he would.

"Then what?" he pressed, worried when she stopped talking. He wasn't sure if he was ready to hear this story, to learn something so private and vital to who Carol was, but that didn't matter. She was ready to trust him with this for the sake of their child, and he would listen. He would learn. And he would do whatever he had to do to keep Sophia and Carol safe.

"It was early December, and Sam and I had a trip planned. Every time I tried to make plans for us work got in the way, and I didn't try to make our plans work. This time I had. We were going anywhere Sam wanted to. He made a game of it, writing it in an envelope and leaving it at home; so when we were finished with our errands, I'd get to open it and find out where he chose." She laced her fingers together. "Caesar was supposed to have Sam. They were going to play baseball or go to the batting cage. I'm not sure which, but something came up so he ended up with me. And...on the way home—" her voice broke. "On the way home...the sniper shot Sam, and he died in my arms. He—he was ten years old."

Daryl lowered his face into his hand, his fingers grasping his hair, his eyes closing. He didn't know what to say here. He knew how this story ended, but he didn't know what to say. There was no comforting her, that was for sure. Even if he had the proper words to use, they couldn't begin to fill the hole the death of her child had made.

"At his funeral, the sniper killed Rick." She picked at her thumbnail, warm tears splashing down onto her hands, and she sniffed.

"Jesus."

She lifted her head. "I became an alcoholic. I couldn't...get over what happened to them, and I couldn't track down the sniper. I tried for two years to find something that would lead me to him, but there wasn't anything." The more she spoke, the deeper her voice became, and she couldn't breathe, but she had to keep talking. He had to know the whole story. "I think I was trying to drink away the pain and the anger and maybe even the entire world. As time went on, I needed to...numb myself more and more, and it got to the point that I couldn't make it through the day without a drink. I almost lost my job."

He peeked at her but reminded quiet.

"I went to a bar for one final drink." She looked at him. "I met you, and... Well, you know what happened."

He couldn't breath, his lungs clenched as though she had reached into his chest and was squeezing them. He didn't know Sam, but that was Sophia's older half-brother. A brother she didn't know she had. A brother she wouldn't get to know. A brother who had to die for her to even be born. If Sam was alive and well, Sophia would never have been born. The best part of his life, the part that made all of his decisions make sense and have meaning, was only given life because of the tragic and brutal murder of a child. Of her brother. While he was happy to hold her and love her and watch her grow, Carol was drowning in the despair of losing two children. While he was wishing her the worst and his resentment grew, she was enduring more agony that he would ever know. All of his thoughts, all of his remarks, every last one of them were so cruel, so terrible. He had been so terrible. And while none of what he wished compared to her actual pain, she didn't deserve it. She was a person with reasons, and he was an asshole who didn't know. That didn't excuse him. He should have known better.

"The sniper would have come for her, and my only option was to give her up to keep her safe. And he'll come again for you and for her, so I need to all the information I can get on him. I need to meet with the man who mentored you, because if I lose the sniper, I'll lose my daughter and you and possibility Caesar and his family before he comes for me. By that point, I don't know how stable I would be, and I might die trying to take him down." She shook her head and corrected herself, "No, that's not true. We would both die. I'd kill him if it was the last thing I did."

"Carol—"

"I need your help," she interrupted him. "And I know you want Sophia safe. This is how we do it. Once I know she's safe, we can talk about our situation. Until then she is not my daughter; she's just yours." If she was Carol's daughter right now, she'd be a target. So it was better for all of them if she was just his kid. For now.

He nodded. "I understand."

"So, you'll introduce me to the man who trained you?"

"I can't."

"What? Why not?"

"He died a couple years ago."

"No." She slipped off the couch and stumbled toward the kitchen. "No, no no. Damn it! He was the only person I could work with to find this asshole!"

"No, he isn't." Daryl went after her and caught her hand, pulling her toward him, and he set his other hand on her shoulder. "I know someone that can help us."

She lifted her eyes to his. "Us?"

"Yeah, us. Did you think I was gonna let you do this alone? After all we went through to get Sophia back safe? Hell no."

"Daryl, you can't be involved in this."

"I am involved in this. I involved myself in this years ago. I just didn't know it until now. I am going to stand by you through this. You ain't getting rid of me."

"I managed to once."

"And never again. We're going to find this guy. We'll find him, and he'll pay for his crimes, okay?"

She searched his eyes. "Okay."

"Yafim might be dead, but I know people."

"People? Daryl, I'm still a cop. I can't go to Michonne with "people"."

"No, but we can. I still got my men, and we'll go to these people. We'll get the information you need, and we'll hunt him down. You have your team of cops, and you have us too." She gave him a heedful look. "It'll work. Double the people, and half of 'em are willin' to do whatever it takes to get information."

"That isn't comforting. I don't want you or your men to kill people or torture people."

"I don't permit killin'. I never have." He locked eyes with her. "We'll talk and bargain for what we need. You have my word."

"And you have my word that Sophia will make it out of this alive."

"We all will," he corrected.

"I can't—"

"We all will," he repeated. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"You don't have a choice. I'm in danger right now, Daryl. There's nothing you can do about it. You can't stop a bullet."

"No, but I can help you find him before he tries to kill you. Or anyone else. I'll go talk to the others, and we'll met you tomorrow morning before you have to get to work."

"All right, but we'll have to meet somewhere secure."

"I know a place. We'll meet there, and we'll take him down. With all of us in this, there's not a chance in hell he'll slip by. You don't have to do this alone."

"I know. And I'm not in this alone. I have Michonne and Caesar and everybody I work with." She smiled a little and squeezed his hand. "And now I have your team."

He smiled back. "I'll write down the directions."

"I'll get a notepad."

––

Through the scope of his gun, he saw the former Archer and Williams talking. By the tears in her eyes, it was about the boy and his father. She was still distraught. She was still mourning. She was still trying to hunt him down. He was pleased to see it.

As he watched the two of them converse, he found it curious. The Archer took her hand, and he hadn't let go out of it. His hand on her shoulder moved, but not the other. She didn't seem bothered by it, and he wondered if they were together. He assumed Andrew's vulgar comments were nothing more than his tiny brain producing pervert thoughts so he could busy himself when alone. He might have been right. That felt wrong to even think, but from the how these two were acting and how they moved around each other, they might be. Or they were in the past.

He smirked. This was the father now. The child was theirs. He thought he would need to see the girl himself, but Williams had been kind enough to simplify his job. Not only had she confessed to being pregnant, but she had even showed him the father. This time the father wouldn't die by coincidence. He would kill him and the girl. But not now. Things were looking up for her, and he couldn't take that away just yet. It wasn't sweet enough, but it would be soon.

He took a drink of coffee, setting it down on the end table, and he glanced behind him. He rose and tended to the bodies of the couple that lived in this apartment. He wasn't a professional at disposing of bodies, but it wasn't hard to do. It was worth it. After all they had such a killer view.