Carol was just finishing up her cooking when she heard the sounds of arrival outside the cabin – doors slamming and people hollering. She dampened the fire in the wood stove, wrapped the venison in foil to keep it warm, and ran out to make sure Daryl was okay. She found him standing a few feet away from Roscoe on the dirt roadway and looking him over curiously.

"I recognized Darlene right away," Roscoe said, "but you were two feet shorter when I left."

"Roscoe ain't hardly aged a day, has he?" Darlene asked.

"Aged a hell of a lot more than a day," Daryl said. "Got all that stubble now 'stead of zits."

Roscoe held out his hand to Daryl.

Daryl muttered something indecipherable and shook. Then he caught sight of Carol and nodded to her. She supposed that was as affectionate a greeting as she was going to get in front of all these people. She approached him with a smile but then spied a pair of strangers over his shoulder - an exotically beautiful woman who was holding the hand of a little boy. "Who's that?"

Daryl waved them over and made a brief introduction. "Carol. 'Chonne. 'Chonne and her boy Andy's gonna stay with us."

"Shone?" Carol asked.

"Michonne," the woman said. "And this is Andre." She patted the little boy's head. Carol smiled down at him, and he buried his face against Michonne's leg but then moved it just enough to peer at Carol with one eye. "Rick and Daryl saved him from a herd of walkers."

"And me," Zach said as he took a box of food out of the pick-up. He glanced at Beth, who was grabbing two cans of oil. "I helped. I took down most of the walkers, actually. At least a dozen."

Beth smiled indulgently and walked past him toward the cabin. Zach followed, looking a bit confused at her failure to fawn over his manly deed.

Meanwhile, Roscoe tipped his hat to Michonne and then to the child. "Sturdy lookin' boy you got there." His eyes fell on Michonne's waist. "That is one spectacular belt."

To Carol's surprise, Daryl took her hand and tugged. "C'mon. See the loot I gotchya." He held onto her hand until they reached a scratched-up sedan, and then he let go and popped the trunk. It was full of baking supplies. He pointed to the baked cinnamon apples, the flour, and the whip cream. "Bet yer gonna wanna bake an apple pie."

"Sounds like you want me to bake you an apple pie," she teased.

"Wouldn't object," Daryl admitted with a closed-lip smile.

She reached out and gently touched the gash on his cheek. He pulled away. "What happened there?" she asked.

"Got cut on broken glass. 'S fine."

Carol leaned in and kissed the small wound. Daryl's cheek flushed when she pulled away, and his eyes darted around. "What?" she asked. "You don't want people to know I like you?" She was teasing, but she also wasn't teasing. Part of her still felt insecure, even though he'd said - in his own Daryl-like way - that he loved her. "Are you keeping your options open?"

"What options?" he asked. "Yer everything." Two simple words, yet they said so much, and Daryl didn't seem aware he'd said anything romantic at all. He jerked his head to the left. "Who's them folk over there talkin' to Glenn?"

"I'll introduce you."

[*]

Daryl made a quick evaluation of the Williams siblings. Tyreese, he decided, was one big ass pussy, while his little sister was the one to watch. After exchanging a few grunted words with them, he called Carol and Sophia over to the vehicles. He showed them their pink camo pajamas and then he picked up the sheet music Sophia had asked for.

"Mr. Perkins actually has a ton already," Sophia said.

"Who?"

"Roscoe," Carol told him.

"Ah, yeah. Forgot his mama's last name."

"He's got everything," Sophia said. "Blues, folk, country! All sorts of stuff. I'm going to ask if he'll teach me harmonica." She stuck her cane against the ground and headed off toward Roscoe, who was pointing to the motorcycle batteries in the pick-up and talking to Sasha.

Daryl scowled and tossed the sheet music back into the trunk. Carol's hand came to a rest gently on the small of his back. "I'd like to have that sheet music," she said softly. "I love hymns."

"Biker hymns?" He stepped away from her touch, still scowling.

"And I love my sexy new jammies," Carol teased. "If you're good, I might show them off for you tonight."

"Stop." Daryl plucked up two large jugs of orange juice from the trunk by their handles, but her words did distract him from his sullenness. For a moment, he couldn't help but wonder if Carol would like something that actually was sexy. If he found a Victoria's Secret and looted it, would she wear that stuff for him?

He was thinking about her in a skimpy, silky, red nightie when he turned around and tried to hand her off one of the jugs, asking, "Carry one?" as he tossed it toward her. He'd been so distracted, he hadn't realized she'd already grabbed a jug in each hand. His jug fell to the ground with a slosh and a thud.

She smiled. "Mhmmm...No."

Mortified, Daryl covered his face with his hand.

Carol's chuckle trailed away from him as she walked toward the big cabin with her two jugs of orange juice. He sighed and scooped the fallen one off the ground.

[*]

"Best venison steak I ever had, ma'am," Roscoe said as he cut off another piece. "You are one talented chef."

"Thank you." Carol glanced at Daryl to see his reaction to this compliment, wondering if there might be a spark of jealousy in his eyes, but he seemed entirely unperturbed. He just murmured "Mhmhm" and continued eating.

Carol scolded herself for feeling disappointed. She'd had a jealous, possessive husband most of her life. She certainly didn't need another man who got riled up every time another man complimented her. But some part of her had wanted Daryl to be jealous. She'd probably found Ed's jealousy flattering in the beginning, in those years before he started hitting her. Carol wasn't that foolish young woman anymore, though. She wasn't the worn-down wife either. "I'm glad you like it, Roscoe."

"Tell Rick and Daryl about Terminus," T-Dog said.

The story was retold. A debate erupted about whether they should take on Terminus to prevent innocent people from being murdered and eaten. To Carol's surprise, Rick, who had been adamantly in favor of going to Terminus before, was now just as adamantly against the idea.

"How can we just let people walk into a death trap like that? Maggie asked.

"Because our responsibility is to our group," Rick told her. "There are three children here now. Four if you count Beth."

"I am not a child," Beth insisted from where she sat at the kids table with Carl, Zach, Sophia, and Andre.

Sophia had decided Andre was her own personal baby doll, and she had the child sitting on her lap as she cut up his food for him into tiny bits. The rest of the adults were crammed in at the main table, except Glenn, who was on watch at the moment, and Sasha and Tyreese, who sat on stools at the counter top.

"There are twelve adults here," Rick continued. "How many armed men at Terminus?"

"Thirteen adults," Beth corrected him.

"Thirty at least," Roscoe said. "And they got big guns. And they're stark ravin' mad."

"I let my wife die." Michonne looked across the table at Rick when he said this, as though she understood the guilt in his voice. "I'm not going to let anything happen to my son, and I am not going to leave him fatherless. Supply runs are one thing. They're risky enough. But war?"

"I'm with Maggie," Darlene said. "It don't sit right with me, knowin' people are hearin' that on the radio, headin' for Macon, and then becomin' dinner."

Rick looked at Daryl. "What do you think?"

"Don't sit right with me neither."

"So you think we should go and fight them?" Rick asked.

"Hell no! Let the people out there take their chances and fend for themselves. Like we done."

"If you feel that way," Michonne asked, "why did you rescue my son? Why did you take us in?"

"'S different," Daryl muttered.

"You fought Negan's men," Maggie reminded him. "You could have just stayed hidden in that tree in that forest. You could have let me and Beth die."

"'S different."

"How?" Maggie asked.

"Just is." Daryl took a bite of his venison and said nothing more.

"It feels wrong to me, too," Carol admitted. "Just to let that happen."

"Me too," Andrea echoed. "I didn't do enough to save my sister. I feel like I should do something to save the victims of Terminus."

Roscoe tapped his forehead and made a sizzling sound.

Andrea's brow furrowed. "What does that mean?"

"Means a light bulb just went off in my head." Roscoe cut off another bit of his venison steak, popped it in his mouth, and chewed.

"And are you going to share with the group?" Andrea asked him.

"Hold your horses, darlin'." He swallowed and then took a sip of his water. "We can go to that radio station that's playin' that damn Trace Adkins song on eternal loop."

"Ladies Love Country Boys?" T-Dog asked.

"Yep. The one Terminus keeps breakin' into for its broadcast."

"And take the song off the air?" Carol asked. "And play our own message instead? A warning not to go to Terminus?"

Roscoe put a finger on his nose.

"It's not a bad idea," Andrea said. "Who knows how to use that equipment?"

Roscoe pointed to himself with a thumb. "Used to work at a radio station in Nashville for three years, when I was 'tween bands."

"Why hasn't the power playing that song run out?" Carol asked.

"I reckon it's some kind of emergency broadcasting system power backup," Roscoe answered.

"Where's the station?" Andrea wanted to know. "Is it all the way in Macon?"

"Nah. Just an hour and a half from here. WCNT. We drove by the building on our way up, but didn't think 'bout bustin' in and changin' the song at the time."

"Because that area was infested," Tyreese reminded roscoe. "We had to plow through a bunch of them, remember? We barely got off that street. And the building's probably crawling with them."

"That's why if I'm gonna change out that song," Roscoe said, "need a few marksmen. God knows I ain't one."

"I'm a good shot," Maggie said. "I'll go with you."

"I will too," Andrea told him. "I'm not the best, but I've been getting better, and I've been wanting some real life target practice."

"Sasha….." Roscoe smiled across the kitchen at her. "Fierce firefighter, lovely daughter of a marine sniper, what say you?"

Sasha sighed. "I'll go. But I thought you said Terminus wasn't your rodeo?"

"It ain't. But I don't want all these pretty ladies undergoing crises of conscience."

Sasha snorted and shook her head.

"I don't like the idea of you doing this," Tyreese told his big sister.

Sasha ignored him. "Anyone else want to join us?"

"I'm not going," Rick said. "I have my son here, and I want to plant some vegetables before the first freeze."

"And I want to build a root cellar for storing those vegetables in the spring," T-Dog said.

Darlene set her fork on her plate. "I'd happily sign up for the Take Out Terminus Club, but I been told you don't let your doctor leave your camp."

"I can't leave my son behind again," Michonne answered. "Not after what happened in that diner."

"Any more good shots in here?" Roscoe asked.

"I am now." Carol was surprised by how confident she was in saying that, but after weeks of intense practice, she had become a good shot.

"Hell no," Daryl said. "No way, no how. Carol ain't goin'."

Carol met his eyes. She knew he was just concerned for her safety, but no man got to tell her what to do anymore. He must have read the message in her gaze, because Daryl shifted uncomfortably in his seat and said, "Meant if she goes, I go."

"You need to stay and hunt," Carol told him.

"Ain't goin' without me," Daryl told her.

"I can handle myself, Daryl."

"Mama, I don't want you to go!" Sophia cried from the kids' table, and suddenly Carol remembered that being a mother to her daughter was a bit more important than proving to herself she was capable of walker-slaying.

"We could use a good shot in the watchtower," Rick told her softly. "And God knows you're invaluable to us here as a chef."

"Fine. I'll stay," Carol agreed reluctantly. "It's just...if you needed me, I could do it."

Roscoe looked over at the kids' table. "I hear tell you're an expert marksman, Zachary."

"Uh..." Zach said. He glanced at Beth and then sat up a little straighter in his chair. "Yeah. I'm a good shot. I'll go with you guys." He looked at Beth hopefully.

This time, she threw him a bone. "That's really dangerous."

"I know," he told her and reached out and squeezed her hand on the table. "But we have to do the right thing."

In the end, it was decided that Roscoe, Andrea, Maggie, Zach, and Sasha would leave for the radio station in the morning.

When Glenn came in to switch out his watch shift with T-Dog, and he heard of the plan, he was not pleased. "Why you?" he asked Maggie.

"Because I'm a good shot."

"No. You aren't going without me to protect you."

Maggie snorted. "Protect me?"

"I've dealt with herds before, in Atlanta," Glenn told her. "I'm better at this than you think. I'm coming with you."

"There's only room for five in our biggest pick-up," Maggie insisted.

"I'll ride in the bed," Glenn told her.

"That'll be cold," Maggie told him. "The temperature's dropping, and with the wind - "

"- We should take Roscoe's SUV also," Sasha interrupted. "That way, if one or the other vehicles breaks down, we have backup. With both, we can park in two different places and come in from two different directions. If we can't get back to one, we can get back to the other. And if we keep both and find supplies on the way home, that's more space to haul them."

"Brilliant," Roscoe exclaimed. "Now y'all can see why I condescended to join up with these folk."

Sasha chuckled. "That's funny, Roscoe. Because the way I recall it, you condescended to jump in the bed of our pick-up before you got your ass bit by those walkers in Montrose."

"Could of handled 'em just fine on my own, but, you know, I saw a pretty woman drivin'. Naturally I was drawn to that pick-up like a moth to the flame."

Sasha shook her head and cleared her plate to the sink.