A Very Serious Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the epicness that is The Walking Dead. Robert Kirkman, Frank Darabont, Glen Mazzara, and soon to be Scott Gimple and all the very awesome writers who've been more constant than the show runners are who we have to thank for this.

However I do own this story, Whiskey & Cakesters and all of it's fine points as well as its flaws. If you copy it and put it on another website, like Quotev, be warned I have a very particular set of skills. Efficient Internet searching skills I have acquired over a very long career of writing research papers and watching movies and TV shows online. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you as I've been known not to rest until I have found a workable link or a article I want. If you take my story, I will find you.

I also have a bunch of very awesome people in my corner who will also find you.

Just ask not to mention her shameful name but it's…oh wait the little plagarist lost her account. Two different people told me about this and reported it to the admins on the site she was posting on.

No good deed goes unpunished.

The wind ripped at his shirt and cracked the skin on his knuckles. But Daryl didn't let up on the throttle. He kept as straight and true as the crow flies down the county road that they hadn't taken. The Ferenc truck about ten miles behind him, the roadhouse camp even further gone.

He had gotten what he wanted….

The bar turned community hall was packed by the time they dragged themselves out of bed. There appeared to be three times the amount of people around. Last night everyone was already seated when the trio came in for dinner and they had kept to themselves after that so they hadn't gotten an idea of the population.

Everyone was talking over each other, young children were yelling and running around the closely packed clusters of adults standing around, chatting over their morning coffee. It was almost frightening to be in such a claustrophobic and loud atmosphere after being so long in quiet solitary conditions. Daryl felt the urge to grab both of his kids to keep them from being swallowed up by mob of strangers.

They got in line with the other people around the window where breakfast was being dished up.

"Good morning," The ex-paramedic's daughter was one of the servers, she was in charge of a steaming pan of scrambled eggs.

"How much do you want, cutie pie?" she asked Carl.

Sophia gave her a flash of the back-off-bitch glare that, from what Daryl had seen at bars, if not minded resulted in hair pulling. Their curl-headed waitress didn't see it as she scooped out the desired amount of eggs on to Carl paper plate.

Poor Carl, A little crazy and jealous. Daryl thought.

Then again Carl had been the one to start it with his sweet-talking and flower giving.

"Eggs for little miss sunshine?" Cleo asked Sophia, she nodded. "Say when."

"Betcha you need some eggs," Cleo purred when Daryl stepped up.

Her eyes flitted from his chest, to his eyes, and then down again with impish smile. Daryl didn't realize he was being hit on until he saw that Sophia was looking more like she was going to stretch out those red ringlets.

Guess she's more than fine with being the only girl. He thought.

Every table as far at the eye could see was taken. As they played be the first to find a place to sit, Daryl spotted a new sub group of people mingling through the crowd.

Regan and his loud crew were taking advantage of the breakfast bar. Daryl felt his hackles go up as they came closer for some food. As they got even closer, he caught a strong scent of beer and scotch as well as cigarette smoke and pot, which really got him riled up.

One guy wasn't looking where he was going or he was still buzzed and couldn't fully control where he was going as he veered closer to them than the others. He bumped into Daryl, who had firmly planted his feet, even though it meant losing a small bit of eggs due to the impact.

"Sorry man," he slurred somehow sarcastically.

You will be if you get any closer. Daryl's expression clearly stated.

The guy had a few inches and pounds on him but Daryl knew his temper could even the odds. He stood toe to toe with Daryl for a couple of seconds in a testosterone fueled staring contest, then he went to go get his breakfast.

A small hand grabbed his. Sophia looked up at him slightly concerned. Daryl cracked a small smile to keep her from worrying.

"Little cranky when I don't get my morning coffee," said Daryl.

He looked, glared, back over to the handful of scumbags. Daryl had grown up around guys like that, the kind that his father and later on Merle would chum around with. Knowing his supposed enemy did not make him feel at ease. At All.

"We could eat outside," suggested Carl.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. We could have a little breakfast picnic." Sophia was thrilled with the idea.

Daryl was in complete agreement.

They carefully carried their plates over to exit. Carl led the way, finding them a path through the people. Somehow Sophia was able to carry her plate with one hand and hold on to his belt loop with the other. When Carl stopped suddenly, Sophia slammed right to his back. (But miraculously she maintained a perfect hold on her plate.)

"Carl, she's doing it again," whined Daryl.

"Is that the fourth or fifth time?" asked Carl.

"I've lost count."

"What? What am I doing again?" asked Sophia.

"Head butting me. Kept doing that last night. You are the most violent cuddler ever. Surprised I don't have bruises." Daryl filled her in.

"You can't help it, Sophiasaurus Rex. You have such a big head and tiny little arms," Carl said to Sophia looking mostly confused and a little sad.

Sophia just went to confused but neither explained it to her.

"Wait, we need drinks," Sophia said when they were three steps away from door.

So back they went in to the crowd. There was a table tucked off to a corner with some juice boxes and a tall thermos, probably containing coffee, catching sun rays on it's steel surface making it shine like it really had been sent from above.

"There's coke in the back," said Carl.

"Ya can't have pop with breakfast," Daryl corrected him.

"Are you my mother?" asked Carl.

That was more of a point in Daryl's favor as last time he took that stance they ended up devouring and then puking up a whole box of pop tarts.

"Don't sass him," Sophia joked.

"Damn right, don't sass me. I'm not your mom, only the guy whose going to have to take care of y'all when ya get tummy aches. No pop."

"'Member when he used to be fun," Carl murmured to Sophia.

"Hey, I'm still fun." Daryl defended himself.

"Prove it," challenged Carl.

"Nice try, ya little turkey," Daryl tossed him a juice box from off the table, then helped himself to a Styrofoam cup of coffee from a spouted thermos. The early birds got all the additives. He didn't necessarily like it black but not having any coffee for what felt like forever, black tasted pretty damn good.

Going back for drinks, they also found condiments that they had overlooked in their rush to sit and eat. Daryl poured a little hot sauce on his, his stomach having made a full recovery, the salt came out of the shaker too fast for Sophia.

"Son of a bitch," she cussed at her overly seasoned eggs.

A woman beside them at the table head snaps over like a hawk, most appropriate for her sharp features. She cleared her throat and gave Sophia a look that made the little lady try to turn invisible.

"Sophia. Don't space the words out so much," said Daryl, then making his accent thicker added, "gonna cuss in Georgia, do 'er right."

"Sonuvabitch, I forgot, sorry" said Sophia.

The woman gave them a sharp indignant look and left.

While they had their backs turned, Carl had laced his eggs with ribbons of ketchup and was now putting a handful of small ketchup packets in his pocket.

"We ran out of ketchup back at camp. What if nobody has found any yet," explained Carl. He stood there like he was expecting Daryl to reprimand him for taking so many and tell him to put them back.

"Good idea. Ketchup makes a great sauce for most woodland critters."

They traveled a less crowded path around the perimeter of the room. At one point they did come across a table but they hopped over it, using teamwork to ferry their eggs across safely. They went out the back exit to the far less populated yard, but still all the picnic tables were taken up.

Since both their hands were full now, Sophia had hooked her arm through Daryl's and them all to a sunny corner of the yard where they sat in the grass. Sophia kept constantly scooting from a large beetle trudging towards her plate.

"Ya see that's what I never got about girls. Y'all love picnics but there's bugs outside that are gonna be attracted to yer food," said Daryl.

"I think there's more you don't get 'bout girls than just that," Carl piped up.

Daryl scowled at him until Carl looked down at his food, but the boy never stopped smiling.

"I blame movies. They make us think that picnics will always be romantic, there are no bugs in Hollywood," said Sophia. "What I don't get is why you put hot sauce on your eggs? Didn't you have enough last night?"

"Never get enough of hot sauce on eggs. It's my favorite breakfast. Would eat it every morning first thing out on the deck in the summer, countryside would be all quiet.

And in the winter I would sit in my living room-"

"Why didn't you eat in your kitchen?"

"I was getting to that. My one dog, Rocky, had to be fed outside, more specifically on the front porch so he could still guard the property. This dog refused to eat anywhere else and in the winter, the crows would be looking for anything they could put in there beaks and crows liked the dog food so one crow would bait Rocky into chasing it all around the property and two other crows would eat his food until Rocky came charging back and he'd eat maybe another mouthful before he had chase after the crow taunting him. There was also a big pine tree in the front yard and cardinals, those red bird with the mohawks, that became their winter home. They were good to watch too."

After that mouthful, Daryl took a mouthful of scrambled eggs, and thought about what all he just said. His admiration of nature had been a personal thing. Not something he would throw out as casually as he just did.

"Wow, That was actually a really nice story, Daryl," remarked Sophia.

"And then the piano upstairs crashed through the floor and on to my head and I had to go the hospital," added Daryl. Sophia rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Dead serious Miss, got five hundred staples in my head. Oh sorry."

"For what?" Sophia tilted her head.

"For calling you Miss, know ya don't like it."

"It's Missy I don't like. I'm quite alright with Miss. You are very welcome to call me, Miss Sophia."

Carl looked over at her, clearly calling her crazy.

"That's just one letter different," he said.

"But that one letter makes them sound completely different," explained Sophia, might Daryl add with the risk of sounding sexist, girl logic.

"What? No it doesn't." Carl shot back as he did not follow girl logic.

Daryl listened to them banter back and forth while he ate. Both kids slowly pronounced Miss and Missy to try and prove their point and they turned to him to make the final judgment call.

"You both-" Daryl lost that thought as one of Regan's guys and Regan himself came over.

He had uncrossed his legs and was on his feet in a fraction of a second, returning the greeting with a glower that said I-see-you-standing-there-better-have-a-good-reason -for-it.

"Hey, Just wanted to apologize for taking you out yesterday," Regan held up his hands in mock surrender. "Nothing personal, just heard the gunshot, thought you were a threat."

Daryl nodded.

I get it. Now go away. He thought

"This has been bugging me so I gotta ask. That crossbow you have, you actually hunt with that before this?"

"Yeah," said Daryl with a bit of a snort. Of course he used it before.

"That's hard core, brother. I just used a rifle, had a cousin that could use a bow. You ever been out to Black Mountain area?"

"A few times, bagged a eighteen point out there the one time."

And with that Daryl sort of fell into a conversation about hunting from one hunter to another. It still didn't soften him up to being any sort of friendly though. That led into a more useful conversation about the state of the interstate.

"…backlogged for miles around exit sixty-five, ten car pile up, ain't nothing getting through there. County road two thirty-six would be your best bet. It's about six miles back, it links back with the interstate and gets you around the blockade. It's deserted too, would make a good route for you with those two on your heels."

Regan's eyes went around Daryl to Carl and Sophia still finishing up their breakfast, which put him up on guard even more to the breaking point of him switching to offense instead of just hanging back in defense.

"A couple of folks 'round here said you were tryin' ta fix that bike," the other guy spoke up after a small silence Daryl was hoping would be a hint.

"Yup."

"Ya git 'er done?"

"No."

By now he was glaring at them so hard, Daryl was being to feel hot.

For no apparent reason at all, Daryl didn't want them near the kids even though, the two men weren't doing anything wrong. Standing down wind from them, they didn't smell of anything, Regan had been useful and the other one was simply inquiring about the dirt bike. For God's sake, they didn't even set Sophia's touchy danger sensor off. Her and Carl had apparently hardly taken notice of the men, too busy trying to touch their own toes.

Daryl took a step outside himself and could not believe how judgmental he had become, not to mention hypocritical. He use to be the one that others gave dirty looks to. He was still getting those same dirty looks still from people around here. He no longer blamed people for that as he discovered the answer to the age old question that he use to silently ask; what's your problem?

I have kids, that's my problem.

He didn't anymore. But then again Daryl never did. Carl and Sophia had never been his and the sooner he remembered that, the easier leaving them behind would be.

They hadn't been anything to him before, except two small, defenseless people that he had met under strange circumstances…

He had been looking out the window so long that he had memorized the shadows. The slanted rectangle from a useless fuse box, the outline of a car, the one from the walker standing in the middle of the road, the weird one from the tree that looked like a mutant crab attacking Tokyo.

"See anything?" a sudden voice caused him to jump a bit.

Carl sat up and kneeled on the couch to look out the front window.

"Not yet," said Daryl. "Why ya up?"

"I dunno, just woke up." Carl climbed up on to the top of the couch.

"Ya should go back to sleep."

"Why?" the kid asked him.

"Because…" started Daryl. He almost said because I said so but that might not mean to Carl what it meant Daryl when his father or brother said it. "Because you don't want to be tired in case we got a lot of traveling to do when your parents get here."

"What about you?" asked Carl.

"What 'bout me?"

"You haven't had any sleep. I could take over for a bit if you want to have a nap."

"Don't you worry about me, I'm fine."

"Really, I'm not tired. I'll wake you up the second I see anything. You should go to sleep."

Daryl gave him a look, then went back to staring out the window. If he ignored him, the kid would get bored and go back to sleep.

"It doesn't matter if we're gonna do a lot of traveling 'cause I could sleep in the car."

"Carl. I want you to go to sleep now," Daryl said.

He snapped his fingers and pointed to the cushions when the boy stayed up on top of the couch with him. Carl got up on to his knees like a prairie dog, resting his hands on the windowsill to look more closely out the window. Daryl straightened up as well, but there was still nothing out there. Heeding the last warning, Carl slid down to the bottom and lay back down with rather dramatic flop.

Why the fuck do you want to be on watch so bad? thought Daryl.

Most of the time in the quarry, Daryl spent in the woods hunting so he only had a handful of interactions with these two children and a few observations. He had noted that Carl was always eager to help out with chores around camp.

The last bit of the corner of his index fingernail came off.

"You think there is any bottled water or something in the kitchen, my throat's kind of dry," said Carl.

Why did kids always have to a drink after their bedtime? Daryl cursed. If television shows and movies were to be believed it was an everyday occurrence as if they would turn into raisin children overnight if they didn't have a drink.

"I'll go check," Daryl got off the couch.

He couldn't deny the boy that wish, he was sure their situation was just as uncomfortable for them as it was for him. Carl was quick on his heels, which was fine, he was the one he wanted a drink after all.

Daryl had the gun in one hand as they went down to the kitchen. Though they had searched it earlier. He still didn't trust the house not to be concealing some unfriendly inhabitant that their only light source, his lighter, had overlooked.

"Is that heavy?" Carl asked, while he looked over the stuff at the bottom of the pantry for something to drink. "Your crossbow."

"Not to bad," Daryl answered.

"Hey look potatoes, my mom will eat potatoes raw, like apples. Do you like potatoes raw?" asked Carl.

"I'd eat 'em if I was starving," Daryl said

Less playing a thousand random questions, more finding a drink. Daryl thought.

Once he found some cans of lemonade, he took on up for the other one. They went back upstairs in that same careful manner and retook their original spots.

"Girl's been crying, she hurt?" asked Daryl.

It had been bugging him, ever since she started but hadn't thought of her being hurt until she was asleep. Maybe Carl would know something he didn't. But he suspected she was just crying because she was scared. She'd speak up if she was hurt, right?

"I don't know."

Carl rolled over on to his stomach and inched closer to the girl, peering at her. Sophia stirred a bit. Daryl held his breathe for a few tense moments.

Another factoid Daryl knew was that her dad had most likely abused the girl. Something he sensed the few times he was around her but he needed Merle to spell it out for him to know what it was. That had nagged at him so much, that after a few too many glasses of Southern Comfort at the CDC, he had tried to explain her that he would never lay a hand on her and had hugged her.

"Don't wake her up," he whispered sharply.

"But what if she's hurt?"

"Can't be hurt too bad if she's sleepin'"

The boy gave him a bit of a scowl but didn't protest anymore.

Daryl didn't mean to sound so callous. Of course he cared if Sophia had gotten injured somewhere along the lines. But for the moment she was unaware of it and he couldn't deal with her getting upset again if she had no discernable wound. Patting her on the head and saying 'there, there' wouldn't do a damn thing.

Their parents would come back for them soon. Daryl calmed himself again. They wouldn't be alienated for too long.

It had been long though, eight long days, seven of those days on their feet in the heat of a Georgia summer, and nine long nights huddled near each other, then particularly right on top of each other recently.

Daryl had never imagined moving on without them at side.

The dirt bike's blue plastic plates, black seat, and the metal gas tank sat off to the side, stripped away to allow easier access to a suspected clogged carburetor. Daryl and Carl had matching black grease blotches on their hands as they performed intricate surgery on the dirt bike. The mysterious ailment of the Honda wasn't one problem, it was several small ones.

Sophia was sitting quietly nearby. She had probably asked what every single part did three times until she probably started getting on her own nerves.

"'Kay, I'm gonna need you to pull off that line there. The top one there," Daryl instructed Carl. Who followed through to the letter, weaving his smaller hand around the tight confines of its mechanical guts to the tube.

Carl gritted his teeth as the tube wouldn't let go so easy. Daryl knew Carl liked to do things by himself so he waited patiently for him to disconnect it himself.

Daryl lifted out the science fiction looking part and cracked it open after unscrewing the bolts on the casing. There was a build up of rusty colored sludge stuck in the worm tunnels.

"Poor thing's been choking on this," Daryl scrapped out the sludge with the tip of his bowie knife, then wiped it off on the back of his pant leg.

Being the curious thing that he was, Carl had to poke at it. He wiped off the mess on the back of his pant leg like Daryl just had. It stood out to Daryl because it was the fortieth time that he had experienced Carl repeating one of his actions.

He knew what the kid was doing, shadowing him. What confused him was why in the world would Carl look up to him? After their prayer, he knew that they thought of him as hero for the way he looked out for them. But there was a lot more to mimicry than being grateful for protection, it was a desire to be that person by doing what they did, Daryl knew firsthand as he had once copied his older brother's every move for lack of anyone else to look up to. But Carl had his dad and Shane to look up to, what on earth could he see in Daryl?

Daryl made a vow right there to behave in a manner that would make him worthy of the role model treatment. He wouldn't get mad at them over little things, and he would show them how to do all sorts of stuff and teach them all he knew about the woods since they were so enthralled by it, and he definitely do his best at talking through his frustrations with them instead of knocking them up side the head.

A girl around Sophia and Carl's age with a younger boy came over to them.

"We're wondering if you would like to come play capture the flag with us?" asked the girl.

Sophia looked over at Carl, who glanced between the new kids and her, and then they both looked over at Daryl at the same time, not really asking as if they were asking permission, more like they weren't quite certain. It was sort of like that transitionary moment when they went out the back door of the hall and saw the playground and they remembered they were still children.

"Go on," Daryl gave them a nudge.

That was it. That had been goodbye. After everything they had been through together. That had been their parting words.

By now they would know he was gone. They'd be upset about it. But they would quickly forget about him once they were reunited with their families. They would all go on.

The windshield wipers beat back and forth with the odd squeak of rubber against the glass. The Dodge had out ran the rain, the worst of blackest, bluey storm were in the rearview.

"Are we there yet?" asked Carl, resting his head on the top of the front seat.

"Oh yeah, can't ya tell," Daryl waved his hand at the wide-open field ahead of them.

The old 'are we there yet?' had not been cute the first time.

"Fort Benning looks just like a field."

"When are we gonna get there?" asked Sophia

"We'll get there when we get there."

They chattered on about road trips they had taken to visit grandparents or other family members. Carl had once gone cave exploring when he went to go visit his grandparents in Kentucky, and him and Rick had briefly gotten separated from their tour group on the accompanying nature hike.

"My dad kept taking us on one wrong path after another. It wasn't scary. Until we met back up with my mom." Carl laughed.

Sophia had an aunt she saw every few years in Oregon, which was the full of mole crickets. Daryl was familiar those bugs, which were a abomination as they sort of looked like mole for something that was also a beetle.

"And one landed on my leg while I was sitting outside the nail salon waiting for

and my mom and Auntie and it bit me."

"Mole crickets don't bite," said Daryl.

"Some do," Sophia said.

"No they don't."

"Have you ever been to Oregon?"

"Yes,"

Sophia climbed up into the front seat and sat beside him.

"You've been to Oregon?"

"Yeah."

"You're lying," said Sophia. "Your nostrils flared. You're a liar, Daryl Dixon."

"Doesn't he kind of have old fart nose hairs?" Carl laughed.

Daryl reached back to give Carl a good-natured smack. But the twerp crawled to the far side of the backseat. Sophia climbed back with him before she answered. Clever girl.

"He kinda does,"

He hacked on the brakes, not super hard, just hard enough to knock the yippy little brats out of the seats.

"Jesus, you two. Put yer seatbelts on" Daryl smirked.

"Don't want you to crash it again," said Carl.

"That was a fluke, I'm a great driver. An' I'll prove it." Daryl spun the truck around into reverse and weaved down the road backwards.

The kid laughed whole time, shouting out any obstacles they saw. After a good two miles

"Boo yah," said Carl.

"Boo yah," agreed Daryl louder.

They also both had list of places that they wanted to travel to around the world. Sophia wanted to see Paris and all its fancy streets. Carl wanted to go to the Amazon rainforest and the Egyptian pyramids.

"You two gonna elope?" joked Daryl when they both started talking about how much they wanted to see Greece after learning about it in school.

"What's that mean?" asked Sophia.

"Means that you're gonna run off and get secretly married."

"No," Carl quickly retorted.

"Nope, I'm going to have a huge wedding. It'll be in a church with a huge stained glass window up by the altar," said Sophia. "and I'm going wear a long gown style dress, with a veil but no train though. My bouquet is going to be made up of soft pink roses and my entrance song will be either be 'A Moment Like This' by Kelly Clarkson, or

'From this Moment' by Shania Twain or 'Faithfully' by Journey, I haven't decided yet."

"In opinion, Journey all the way but you gotta lot of time to make that choice," said Daryl.

"Maybe not. Maybe we'll start getting married young like in the pioneer days," said Carl.

"We better keep our eyes out for a good church then, and a bridal store, and all the other things."

"Better keep your eyes out for a husband, cause I'm not getting married right away," said Carl.

"Well maybe I will. Y'know maybe I'll have a garden wedding instead. We should find a orchid, all the leaves will changing colors soon, that would be beautiful. Yes I think I'll get married in fall, and I'm telling you right now so I expect you both to be there," said Sophia

"Who ya gonna marry?" asked Daryl.

"I'm going to marry Seamus."

"Who the fuck is Seamus?" That was Carl.

"You meet him once," Sophia shrugged.

"You can't marry Seamus. Seamus is a walker."

"We'll get a divorce. I just really wanna have a wedding now."

"Hate to break it to ya, sweetie but yer not getting married until you're thirty." Daryl put his foot down. "I'm not letting ya."

That ended that. They sat quietly and listened to the hum of the tires on the asphalt. Then they played I Spy for a little while.

"Look it, look it, look it," Carl said excitedly, pointing out the windshield.

Standing over the horizon was the world's largest buffalo. It got larger and larger as they approached. It was a behemoth when they drove up beside it.

They got out of the truck. The air had that fresh rain smell. Daryl took the Polaroid camera over and took a picture of the kids, he couldn't believe that he was being a shutterbug but they should capture this moment. It wasn't any old boring picture, Carl held the crossbow, Sophia had his knife and they appeared to be about to fight the buffalo.

They took advantage of the deserted space to stretch their legs by playing a game of tag around the buffalo for longer than Daryl would've liked to stop for but he had lost track of time.

The cab was warm and humid when they climbed back in and started down the road. The kids fell asleep in the front seat, Carl slumped over in the passenger seat on to Sophia who rested her head on Daryl's shoulder, she muttered something about finding a beach for their next pit stop before she drifted off.

It was dark out but Daryl felt he could keep going for a little while longer before they pulled over and bedded down in the back.

"They say that road is no place to start a family, right down the line its been you and me," Daryl sang quietly to their deaf ears. "I'm forever yours, faithfully."

Daryl shook off that little, stupid daydream. He had to keep his mind on what was in front of him, not on what wasn't. Those kids would be with their families soon. That was all that mattered.

He didn't know if Carl had grandparents in Kentucky, or if they had learned about Greece in school or if Sophia had her wedding all planned out. There were so many things that Daryl didn't know about them.

Tears aggravated the corners of his eyes. He finally let up on the throttle and slowed down, until he had stopped.

What was that song they kept singing? It had that one lyric that would get stuck in his head forever.

He couldn't remember. It seriously hurt him that he didn't. Daryl wanted to remember every single thing about those eight days and nine nights.

Daryl reconnected the tube to the carburetor, it took so tricky maneuvering as his hands didn't fit as nicely between the parts as Carl's did.

He was very determined to fix the dirt bike. Not for himself, they were keeping the capped truck with the mattress in the box but to trade for Regan or one of his gang to hotwire their ride. From the looks of the vehicles they had in their camp, they were taking advantage and pleasure of looting from day one. (Daryl wanted to go back in time and kick his fourteen-year-old obstinate self for not taking a lesson on hotwiring cars from Merle.)

A few more tweaks and he gave it another try. The dirt bike started up and stayed running until he turned it off.

Damn, where's Carl? Thought Daryl. This accomplishment would be better if he had his fellow mechanic to share it with.

"Hello," said a woman. It was the birdlike woman that had disapproved of Sophia and him earlier.

"I'm Maple Ann."

"Daryl."

He expected her to complain about the amount of noise that the dirt bike was making as he did some test fires of it, (mission accomplished, it was starting up everytime) but she only stood there, looking out at the road, the wisps of bright yellow hair escaping the bun on top of her head reminded him of a one of those creepy troll dolls.

"We just got radio contact with another group heading this way, we think he said his name was Rick."

Daryl's heart stopped.

"Are you sure that's what he said?" Daryl asked.

"Reception's bad, we lost them shortly after. He did said they were driving a old RV that was on it's last legs."

That sounded like their group all right. All this time they had been out on the road looking, here they were about to be reunited. It felt unreal. He couldn't wait to tell Carl and Sophia. They would be so happy.

"Is your family out there?" asked Maple Ann.

My brother. Daryl thought. His excitement depleted.

"Yeah," Daryl answered softly.

That Ferenc cube van teased at his thoughts. It was a short distance aways, with potentially some hint to where Merle had gone. It was such a small shot but he had to take it. He'd left Merle once before, he couldn't do that again.

Daryl walked through the camp until he found where Carl and Sophia were entrenched in a game of capture the flag. Headstrong Carl, who was so determined to be like the men in his life despite his smaller stature. Empathetic Sophia, who had been dealt a crappy hand but it had far from made her cold.

They were both so strong in so many ways.

He stood there for what felt like forever, hoping they wouldn't see him but in a small way hoping they would and they would come running over to him, chattering like two squirrels. So he wouldn't do this.

Their families were on the way. That was what he had promised them and now it happening. That was all he owed them. Now he had to find his kin.

In the end, he turned his back and walked away.

He sat on the hood of a burnt out car, stuck, couldn't go forward and he couldn't go back.

Daryl had gotten what he wanted. He wanted a clean break from the group. He had almost got that when they were ambushed nine nights ago but two small stragglers had fouled his plans.

And in the days that followed, he had protected those two like they were his own flesh and blood, simply because it was the moral thing to do. Daryl couldn't just walk away from two kids.

They weren't just lost kids anymore. They were Carl and Sophia.

He loved the way that Carl looked up to him, pushing him to behave better to justify the hero worship. Now he had done the same thing to Carl that Merle had done to Daryl when he was around that age, abandon him.

He loved the way that Sophia felt so safe around him that she felt the only safe place in the world was right next to him. She would be crying herself to sleep tonight without any comfort and without knowing why he had left. Daryl had turned out to be as much of a deadbeat as his father was.

Daryl should've never gotten so attached to Carl and Sophia. He wouldn't be in such pain if he hadn't.

No good deed goes unpunished.

Author's Note: A bit jarring, I hope I set up Daryl's memories so that you knew when in the story it had taken place. It's a difficult way of going about it but I couldn't imagine another way of writing this chapter without the comparison of their first night together with their last day. Then the bonus of Daryl's vision of where he would rather be.

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