Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… I'm content to just obsess over it.

Season 3, episode 1

The Prison, Evening

After many attempts, Carol had finally convinced Lori to lay down on the bottom bunk in the cell where they'd both deposited their few possessions. Things between Lori and Rick appeared to be going very badly – they barely seemed to speak, and when they did it almost always ended in arguments, from what Carol could tell, at least. Lori, who was now probably at least nine months pregnant, needed support, and wasn't going to be getting it from Rick anytime soon. Carol couldn't leave her friend when she needed her. It was just her nature. Besides, Carol had nothing against having a roommate, at least for now.

Still, even after Lori was asleep, Carol couldn't even bring herself to climb to the top bunk. She'd been sitting on the chair in the small cell, talking to Lori quietly until she fell asleep. After that, she'd been lost in her own thoughts for a while. It was so quiet in the prison. No sounds of nature like they were so used to from being outdoors, no sounds of walkers, thankfully – at least right now. The silence was welcome, but it was… eerie. It seemed like the calm before the storm, as if any minute there would be a deafening roar and something terrible would happen. It wouldn't have been the first time.

Carol longed to sleep in a bed again, thinking that after so many nights on the ground or on hard floors, even a prison mattress would probably feel heavenly. And yet, she fell back into her old habit of avoiding sleep. Her nightmares hadn't been as bad lately as they once had been, but she continued the practice of not sleeping until she couldn't avoid it any longer. She wondered if the fact that she didn't sleep until she was completely exhausted made a difference in whether the nightmares came or not, and she wasn't willing to risk it.

Sighing heavily, she stood quietly and stretched, her muscles protesting slightly after sitting in the chair for so long. She walked quietly out of the cell onto the long balcony along which so many other identical cells opened. It was strange, she'd never thought she'd be living in a prison, or that she'd be so happy about it, for that matter. Life sure is full of surprises, she thought for the thousandth time in the past few years.

She looked around at the moonlight streaming in through the high windows, illuminating the cellblock. With everyone asleep in their cells, the cellblock looked and felt abandoned. It gave Carol the feeling that she was there completely alone, even though she knew that she wasn't. She hated that feeling, like she was the last person on Earth. She remembered that she'd felt that same way one night back on the interstate when Sophia had been missing, as she'd looked out over the graveyard of abandoned cars, their owners all long since dead and gone and not a living thing in sight. It was a horrible feeling. Not quite as startling as her nightmares, however, terrifying just the same. She clenched her hands into fists and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly and trying to calm down.

Daryl had slept fitfully for a few hours, but had been lying awake on his perch ever since. It was too early to go hunting, still completely dark outside but for the moonlight. He itched to move, but he had finally resigned himself to sitting up and cleaning his crossbow instead. Everything was quiet below him, and he liked that he could keep an eye on it all from there. Looking out for everyone, but remaining apart from them. As he sat there, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked up and watched Carol walk out of her cell silently, padding into the swath of moonlight that fell from the windows high up on the wall opposite her cell. He wondered for a second what she was doing up, then realized that she was probably just avoiding sleep, as usual. They were in a new place, but she was the same person.

She took a few more steps forward to the railing, leaning lightly against it and looking down to the ground floor a few levels below. She was glad that she wasn't afraid of heights. The railing seemed sturdy enough, and she realized that it must have been made to withstand a lot more than her own weight. She imagined that everything in the prison had been made that way – to withstand the greatest possible punishment by many, many very strong, angry individuals – and she couldn't help but think that that building would probably still be standing long after everyone in her group – possibly everyone that was left on Earth, because surely there couldn't be too many? – had perished. She shivered slightly at the thought, even though she wasn't cold.

She glanced up at the windows, leaning against the railing a little harder now that she had determined that it would hold her. She watched the moonlight coming in, and was reminded of standing on the porch, leaning against the railing at the Greene Family's farmhouse so many times the previous year. This prison catwalk sure was different from that farmhouse porch, and yet, here she stood in the same position. That world – the farm – already felt like a million years ago.

It seemed impossible to believe that she was the same person that she'd been back then. She'd been broken by Sophia's disappearance. Her only identity had been as a mother, and then suddenly, she wasn't even that anymore… then when the empty shell of Sophia had stumbled out of the barn… she shuddered at the thought. There had been her unintentional isolation from the group when they didn't know what to say to her, which she herself had compounded because she'd felt so lost. Besides having lost hope, she'd been defenseless, not yet having learned to either shoot or use a knife. She'd become useless, defenseless, and alone…

But no, that wasn't completely right. She'd felt on the verge of being alone and broken, as if the very essence of what had made her who she was had been sucked from her body, and yet… Daryl had pulled her back from the brink of despair. He hadn't been able to fix anything that had been wrong – no one could – but he'd been there, and that was all that had mattered. Somehow they'd always understood each other. No, she was certainly a different person now. And yet, at moments like this, she felt her former, more fragile self, hovering just below the surface. It was the silence that did it, she reasoned. The silence was deafening.

Letting out a heavy sigh, she happened to glance up and she saw a slight movement, drawing her eyes to the platform that Daryl had named "the perch." He had claimed it for himself when they'd arrived, saying that he "wasn't sleepin in no cage," or something like that. She hadn't noticed him there when she'd come out of her cell, but now she saw that he was sitting up, watching her. Without a second thought she shot him a small smile, hoping that he couldn't see from where he was that she was blushing slightly, somehow afraid that he had heard her thoughts about him, innocent as they were. He just nodded in return. She went back to staring down over the balcony, almost immediately lost in her thoughts again… which was probably why she didn't hear him until he was standing beside her.

He watched her for a few minutes, as she looked down to the ground floor, then all around the silent cellblock. He didn't mind the silence, the isolated feeling of it, but he knew that she must be hating it. She didn't like being by herself like he did, that much he'd learned back at the farm. She was alone only because Sophia was gone, so it made perfect sense that she felt tortured by silence. As he watched her, she had stopped looking around and just stared straight into space, as if lost in thought. He wondered if that railing reminded her of the one back at Hershel's farm. She was standing kinda the same way that he'd seen her stand back on the porch of that big white house. His itch to move returned suddenly, and he'd only just formed the thought – Should I go down and see if she's okay? – when he was silently on his feet and padding down the stairs as quietly as he could.

She felt his presence before she saw him from the corner of her eye, which was the only reason she didn't jump at his sudden, silent arrival beside her. Daryl, being a hunter and tracker, always had to make an extra effort not to sneak up on people because he was used to moving so quietly. He stopped and leaned against the railing, imitating her posture, a few inches away on her left side. They'd stood that way many times back at the farm, and there was something comforting in the familiarity of it, despite the strangeness of their current surroundings.

"Y'alright?" he whispered, concern on his face. In the vast emptiness of the prison, all noises seemed to echo much louder than they were intended to be, so he kept his voice as low as he could while still audible to her, attempting not to wake anyone. "Can't sleep?"

She nodded, glancing over at him with a smile. "Yeah, I'm okay," she replied in the same quiet tone. "You know me, not gonna sleep if I don't have to."

"Ya gonna need to find a hobby er something, all this spare time on yer hands," he joked. "Keep yerself busy while everybody's sleepin."

"Yeah?" she whispered good-naturedly. "You have any suggestions?" Her smile reflected her amusement at Daryl Dixon telling her to find a hobby.

"Nah," he replied, shaking his head in pretend sadness, "Don't know nothing 'bout hobbies. Just know that some folks got 'em. Er… had 'em." She chuckled then, and he joined in quietly. "Probly not many choices left today, though," he added. She nodded solemnly, comfortable silence falling between them Neither of them spoke for quite a while. They just stood beside each other, lost in their own thoughts.

"Do you think we'll be able to stay here?" she whispered suddenly, out of nowhere.

"Dunno. I reckon it depends what we find. Gotta clear more of the building first, and it's a big fuckin place," he said matter of factly. The truth was, they were bound to discover walkers somewhere in the prison. It was simply a matter of where, when and how many. In a prison this size there would've been a lot of inmates, and once the walkers had started getting in when everything started… well, suffice it to say that the place was made to be hard to get out of. The trick would be to clear as much of the building as they could, piece by piece, while keeping the parts that were cleared secure. Luckily for them, prisons were made to be secured in exactly that way, section by section. It seemed like they at least had a shot, but it would definitely not be easy, and it would undoubtedly be dangerous. There were so many unknowns.

She nodded at that, understanding what he wasn't saying. It was true. She didn't like to think about it, but there had to be walkers in the building somewhere, probably lots of them… However, there were definitely walkers outside the fences surrounding the prison, that much they could see, so to be inside a somewhat secure building with walkers in another section that they hadn't yet found seemed marginally safer, at least for now.

Carol stifled a yawn, then grimaced when she saw Daryl raise his eyebrows at her. She knew what was coming. "I don't want to," she pouted before he had a chance to tell her she should get some sleep.

"But ya gotta," he said gently. There was something about his gravely voice that she always found soothing, even when he was telling her something she didn't want to hear.

"What about you?" she asked, trying to turn the attention away from herself.

"What 'bout me?" he replied. She really is as stubborn as I am, he thought in amusement, and not for the first time.

"You should get some sleep," she told him quietly. "Rick's gonna have you hard at work again in the morning. You're probably gonna be clearing more of the building, and who knows what else'll come up."

His head bobbed up and down in agreement. "Yup, seems likely." Neither of them made a move toward their beds, perfectly happy to stand where they were a little longer.

The minutes ticked by, and Carol yawned again. Daryl sighed slowly. "That's it, c'mon. Bedtime. Go on," he told her reluctantly, sternly this time. Carol sighed too, smiling slightly despite the childish pout on her face. She turned around and leaned her back against the railing lightly, looking towards the cell where Lori was sleeping.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" she said. "And what about you?"

"Slept a bit, earlier. 'M gonna try again though, I guess. 'F I'm givin you such a hard time, suppose it's only fair."

"Good," she said simply. She pushed off the railing, taking a few steps then looking over her shoulder at him. "Good night, Daryl," she whispered.

"Night," he grumbled, nodding at her and shuffling back toward his perch.

She walked slowly toward the cell where Lori was sleeping soundly, managing to climb to the top bunk without waking her friend. She found that the bed felt even more comfortable than she'd expected, though in reality it wasn't anything exceptional. It was just far better than the hard ground she'd gotten used to. She pulled the thin blanket around her and before she had time to wonder whether she'd be able to sleep, she had drifted off.

Daryl climbed the stairs to his perch silently, feeling calmer than he had since he had woken up hours before. He lay down on his thin bedroll beside his newly cleaned crossbow, and despite thinking that he'd lay awake until sunrise, he too quickly fell back to sleep.