DISCLAIMER: I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

WARNINGS: Rated T for language, violence, and gore. There might be comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.


"Fine", thought Carol. "If he doesn't want Hershel then I'll find someone else."

Carol was not in any mood to sit around idly and watch Daryl become sicker. He was so blasted stubborn and wasn't going to be any good to himself or the group until he was well. Unfortunately her number one choice was the vet but he was assuredly preoccupied with tending to Carl. She returned to the fence and stole Maggie and Glenn away from killing the walkers that were piling up. She quietly explained the dilemma back in the cell block and told them not to look worried or else they'd have Mr. Mason poking around making things worse.

She brought them into Daryl's cell where they found him asleep on his side. His sweating appeared to have lessened some and Carol noticed the two empty water bottles strewn across the floor. Both Maggie and Glenn inspected the almost-bite on Daryl's shoulder and cleaned the area once more. Daryl never stirred during the procedure, or he just didn't care and let the others do as they wanted. The young couple agreed that Daryl was suffering from the combined effects of his drinking bender, inadequate food and water, and general exhaustion. Secretly though they couldn't rule out that possibly even coming into contact with a walker's teeth was enough to make one sick. Tyreese called the three called back to the fence as another wave of walkers crashed into it. Before heading to defend the prison, they alerted Hershel to their concerns over Daryl and the vet promised to check in on him when he wasn't busy with Carl.

Carl, for the most part, wished that Daryl had indeed taken his whole arm off. The pain rivaled what he had experienced after his surgery and he couldn't move his fingers without feeling the pull and then burning farther up his arm. His arm had been cleaned and bandaged which he had endured under the watchful eye of his father. Hershel had given him all the painkillers and antibiotics he could and Rick made him as comfortable as possible in his cell. Carl refused to speak to anyone, except when requested to by Hershel. Eventually Carl was able to find relief when sleep claimed him.

Rick knew Carl was mad at him and accepted his silent treatment as punishment. He would rather have a son that was angry at him than a dead son. The only time they had a closer call was with Hershel. Rick watched Carl sleep and his initial fury over the situation lessened. Daryl was in no means off the hook but he had potentially saved Carl's life. That didn't mean he was going to take back his decision to limit the amount of time he let his son around the man. It really was a shame Rick thought. Daryl was a good man, reckless at times, but he put the group first when needed. And he seemed to have earned Carl's respect; a rare feat. Maybe once Carl was better and Daryl was back to being sensible, he'd loosen up and let the pair have some free reign. In the meantime, Tyreese could step in and help when Rick was unable to.

Rick watched Carl sleep for the first few hours before trading off with Tyreese and headed to the fences to kill walkers as the sun set. The work was tiring and the herd appeared to be attacking the fence from every direction. Maggie, Glenn, and Michonne were sent to the back of the prison to fight off those that were tearing down the already damaged fence. Most of Woodbury could not handle the strain of killing walkers under the Georgia sun and made themselves useful by preparing dinner and taking it to those working outside. Rick had spent most of the time by Mr. Mason until the man's incessant grumblings of "why isn't Daryl out here? He attracted this herd" got the best of him. He couldn't take the constant pestering anymore and moved his walker killing operation to the far side of Karen. The woman gave him a genuinely warm smile as he approached and Rick tried to match it.

"Doing ok?" asked Rick.

"Just fine. Wish they'd stop though," she replied with a nod towards the pile of corpses at the foot of the fence. "But at least they're out there and we're in here."

"Yes," agreed Rick. "I suppose that's a good way to look at it."

"I've never seen them do this before…it's like they're traveling in a pack or something."

"We call 'em herds," said Rick.

Karen stabbed a female walker through the fence with her knife and Rick cringed as he took care of what was once a small boy with his machete.

"I guess that's fitting," said Karen thoughtfully. "I hope someone is still out there working on a cure and maybe one day this will all be over."

Rick stared at Karen in amazement. That was the most optimism he'd heard in months.

"There's got to be a mobile lab or something set up by the government or army," continued Karen. "Maybe on a ship or an island…someplace. This can't be all that's left. After all we've done in the world, after all we've built, all the technology…we can't end like this. They'll get a cure one day," she said with another smile at Rick.

"I hope you're right," Rick agreed for the second time. "There's got to be someone left." He stabbed another walker to allow Karen a break. The woman checked behind her then leaned against the fence to face Rick.

"I've been thinking—and not that it's a reflection on you—but this place needs a morale boost," said Karen as she caught Rick's eye. "It's just that it's a prison: it was never meant to be comfortable or a home," she went on to clarify.

"What are you suggesting?" asked Rick; open to any ideas to bring the prison back together.

"Maybe some new paint inside…a rug or two…furniture that isn't metal and bolted to the floor," she said with a grin. "It doesn't matter how old you are, you can still hold a paintbrush."

Rick turned around to face the prison in the dimming light. The sunset cast it in an orange and pink glow that made it almost appear welcoming. That illusion would be shattered though as soon as the sun rose in ten hours. The inside was just as dark and dingy as they day they discovered it. They'd cleaned it up so it didn't smell as bad and taken off the months of dust that accumulated but it remained a prison.

"I think you're right," said Rick as he imagined the cells being transformed into mini apartments that people would actually want to spend time in. "We could do that. Paint, furniture, carpets, art, books. We have generators so in theory we could even get a TV or music for special occasions."

"TV? What's that?" joked Karen.

"True…not that we'd be able to get this group to agree on a movie to watch," laughed Rick as Karen's warmth spread to him. Karen smiled but then turned sharply as the growls from a walker stumbled nearer. "I've got it," said Rick as he moved to end it so Karen wouldn't have to. He stabbed the walker and withdrew his machete but his left hand remained clutching the chain link fence. A moment later he felt Karen's physical warmth as her hand closed over his.

"Just so you know, I am a single parent too and I know how hard it is. You don't have to do it alone. If you ever need anything or anyone to talk to or to listen…you know where my cell is," said Karen in a soft voice. "My son Noah is a little older than Carl but I could get him to spend some time with him. I think I worry too much about him. He has some pretty bad asthma and I have a hard time letting him out of my sight and certainly not on a run."

"Is he doing ok?" asked Rick.

"Better than he was at Woodbury. I've been trying to keep him inside and fortunately the Governor did get us a fair amount of medicine for his inhaler so we'll be set for a while. I just have to ask that if he takes a guard shift that it's during the day so he can rest at night."

"That's not a problem," said Rick. He pulled his hand off the fence and gave Karen's a firm squeeze. "And thank you…"

The two were forced apart due to an impending surge of ten walkers clamoring at the fence. They stayed near enough together and passed gentle glances between them when their attention wasn't immediately required on the walkers.

Right before twilight turned to night, Tyreese came out and set down kindling for a fire to be shared by Karen and Rick. All along the fence similar fires were lit wherever someone needed light to kill by. Rick fretted momentarily over the possible attention the light would draw from alive eyes, but his concerns were abated when Karen noted that someone would have to be truly insane to be running in the midst of a herd. They could deal with the inconvenience of the walkers if it meant keeping the Governor at bay for an extra night.

The attack on the prison carried on throughout the night. They were granted brief lulls and a few caught a little sleep right out in the lush grass of the field. The air was pleasant enough so Rick didn't receive any complaints as he checked on his fighters. There was no sense in complaining anyways. They had no other option: kill the walkers as they came to the fence or let the prison be overrun. As Rick became wearier and his attacks more sluggish, he wanted to borrow some of Karen's hope and wish that the onslaught of the dead would finally end. It was always something.


To say that Daryl felt like total and utter crap was an understatement. There wasn't an inch of his body that was spared from the pain of whatever he was suffering from. It was so bad at one point he figured he must've been bit until he remembered he'd also taken a hard fall and knocked himself around then. Most of the time Daryl drifted in the place that wasn't quite sleep but not fully conscious either. He'd jerk awake at every little noise from a cell door sliding shut to a sneeze produced by one of the kids. He lost count of the number of times he told his body that it should be resting. He knew he was weak and he needed to regain his strength or they'd really give him shit about not doing his part.

Daryl couldn't get his mind to shut down though. He wanted nothing more than to raise the white flag and surrender. If he wasn't so drained he'd pry himself from bed and get some of those sleeping pills that Carol used. They had done the trick. But they were downstairs and he did not have the motivation or energy to get them. So until the next wave of sleep would hit him, Daryl would think over his situation at the prison.

Carol, Carl, Rick, and Mason were his main concerns.

He considered Carol his closest confidant although she was a bit of a mess. He never quite understood the way she reacted after Sophia's death and that had always plagued him. They were friends and he hated himself for pushing her away at times. She was a good woman and she deserved better than that. But the idea of them going off together felt weird and Daryl wasn't about to abandon Rick and the prison just yet.

If anyone asked Daryl why he had decided to stay, his answer would be because of Maggie and Glenn's wedding, and it one point that was the truth. Now however, he was sticking around for Carl. The boy was flirting with the wrong path. The kid needed to feel useful and like he belonged and Daryl had been down that road before. Rick wasn't doing shit to get him under control or offer him guidance. Carl held potential and was more than likely going to lead the group when he was old enough. If he wasn't brought up right, he'd turn out like the Governor and the world already had one of those.

Rick was a mess on a whole other level, plain and simple. The man had cracked and it was no easy task to put him back together. It wasn't entirely his fault though. He'd been through so much as a man and as their leader. It'd all taken its toll, and if he was given the time to sort it out, and no more burdens dropped on him, he probably could. But Rick was stuck as a diplomat and playing politics between Woodbury and the prison. He was too busy getting together his peace, harmony, and all that other bullshit to focus on what he needed.

Then there Mason. Mason who looked like a mouse and smelled like a rat. He was up to something, Daryl was sure of it. If he had to guess, he'd say the man was trying to run him out for whatever reason. Too bad for him Daryl wasn't going to give him the privilege of driving him away. If he left, Mason would concentrate his efforts on outing another person, maybe even Rick, in the same manner. And he wouldn't stand for someone like Maggie and Glenn being run off. Or if it was Rick, then what would become of Judith and Carl? It wasn't happening.

When Daryl finally mentally exhausted himself and did sleep, it wasn't restful. He kept turning over everything in his head. Mason, Rick, Carl, Carol. Rick, Carol, Carl, Mason. Carl, Mason, Carol, Rick. The four names were stuck on repeat and haunted his dreams. He'd dream that he wasn't in time to save Carl and Rick had killed him for it. Then it was he and Carol ran off together only to be discovered and chased into a herd by Mason. The third nightmare was the most disturbing for Daryl and had him waking in a cold sweat. He dreamed he'd been bitten saving Judith from a pair of walkers that resembled Merle and Sophia. When he returned the baby to Rick, he calmly asked for a gun to end his miserable life. Rick gave Daryl his gun and without any fanfare, Daryl pressed it to his temple and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Everyone from the prison and Woodbury began to laugh as Daryl squeezed the trigger again and again, each time being met with an empty chamber.

"You're not worth the bullet," mocked Rick, leading to an eruption of more laughter and jeers.

"Please..." Daryl had begged. "Please I don't want to become like one of 'em."

"Why not? You never were better than them," said Carol. "All your ever were was a disappointment and a failure."

"You were expendable," said Rick, "in all that you did. Even now it's not like you're going to be missed. We've already moved on."

Daryl curled helplessly under the blanket as the scene morphed slightly and Carol wrapped herself around Rick. Rick had sneered down at him and devoured Carol in a kiss that rattled his core. He wanted to tear his eyes away but he couldn't not watch. Then Mr. Mason appeared and disrupted his view of Carol and Rick. The old man leaned over Daryl and stabbed him in his side where he'd been bit. Daryl cried aloud and his back arched in pain; both in his dream and real life forms as Mason twisted the knife in deeper.

"Look at you," taunted Mason with a toothy grin. "You're crying like a little bitch. You can't even take dying like a real man. Why would anyone want you? Such a pathetic waste of space. It's a shame your daddy never finished you off when he had the chance."

Mason pressed the knife in to its hilt then released it. Rick disengaged himself from Carol and brought her forward to stand next to Mason.

"The only good thing you ever did for anyone in this prison is what you're doing right now," said Rick as Daryl continued to writhe on the floor in pain, "and that's dying."

The prison burst into another round of laughter and closed in on Daryl forming a ring around him. Rick was then next to him and he removed the dagger from Daryl's side. He feigned several thrusts towards Daryl's chest, each bluff causing Daryl to flinch and shy away to the complete amusement of the crowd. Rick paused to rile up the prison some more when Carl approached. The boy was the only one not wearing a sadistic smile. In fact, Daryl saw two tears race down his cheeks and dribble off his chin. Daryl tried to say for Carl to be brave and not to worry that'd it be over soon enough but Rick's hand was clamped down over his mouth preventing him from speaking.

"Dad?" questioned Carl. Both men looked over to the boy but Carl's eyes were locked in only on Daryl.

"He's my son," growled Rick. "You can't have him."

The knife in Rick's hand was plunged down into Daryl's heart as he sat up in bed. He gasped for breath and ran his shaky hands over his body to be sure it was a dream. His heart was racing wildly and his clothes stuck to him but from sweat and not blood. "Of course it was a dream," he thought in annoyance with himself. "Otherwise I'd have a knife in my chest right now."

Daryl used a few moments to get a grip on reality. None of it was real. None of it was ever going to happen. He'd never let Mason get near enough to stab him. Carol would never call him a failure nor run off with Rick. He was never going to be Carl's father and Rick would never do anything to hurt him. The only part of the dream that was even plausible was if something happened to Judith Daryl was sure he'd put his life on the line to save her. Nothing was going to take their Lil' Ass Kicker away. Not disease. Not the Governor. Not a walker. Not even Mr. Mason and all his plotting.

That man was quickly becoming the bane of Daryl's existence. They'd be so much better off without him. It was a shame that'd it look too suspicious if he was killed in an accident involving one of Daryl's arrows. He was too old to take on a run as well so they were pretty much stuck with him until he decided to drop dead.

Daryl sighed heavily then drew in a deep breath, the smell of menthol cigarettes filling his lungs. He was on his feet in an instant with his knife raised ready to strike. Those were Mason's cigarettes. He had smelled them before he left with Carl. The prick had just about blown the smoke in his face.

The prison was dark and extremely quiet; not even the usual snoring reaching Daryl's ears. He quickly arrived at the conclusion that the others were still out killing walkers and he was completely alone. He wanted to believe that Mason had been smoking somewhere else in the prison and the air had brought it up to him. Only problem was the air barely circulated through the cell block. There was no way for the smell to be hanging around his cell like it was unless Mr. Mason himself had been smoking in it.

Daryl reached for a flashlight in his bag and turned it on. He was more than surprised when he didn't find Mason lurking in the corner of his cell with a cigarette between his lips. Daryl checked the landing outside his room as well just to be on the safe side and that was deserted.

Mason was probably prowling around and stopped for a smoke on the second level, but as an added precaution, Daryl shut his cell door and returned to bed. The man was a suicidal lunatic if he had dared to enter Daryl's cell. He hadn't pegged Mason as the most go-getter type either. He was sly and cunning but would probably defer the heavy lifting to someone else. Daryl decided he hadn't been in his cell.

That feeling didn't last long as the beam from Daryl's flashlight fell on a cigarette butt in the center of the cell, still warm to the touch.


A/N: Hurray for another update! Phew. Yeah, that was fun.

Ok so in the show we don't really know whether or not Karen's son is alive or not. He might have been massacred by the Gov but they never really made that clear. So for the sake of this fic, and because I'm feeling momentarily nice, he's alive. Thanks for the reviews/favs/follows. Y'all rule!