AN: OK, you all win! I'm opening this up and taking off the complete tag. Thank you so much for your feedback and support! I'm flattered that you like it so far! I hope you continue to enjoy!

For those of you who want a shorter story, please feel free to consider it finished whenever it suits you.

I hope you enjoy the chapter! Please let me know what you think!

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Daryl wasn't open about his prayers. He wasn't a devout Christian that sat in church every Sunday morning and tried to tell others how to live their lives, and he'd never particularly cared for that behavior in others. He didn't walk around reminding everyone that, in the proverbial times of trouble, Mother Mary would listen to their requests.

But he did pray. And he did believe. Even if he wasn't sure if he believed the way that others believed, he did believe that they couldn't be alone—entirely alone—in the universe.

And it brought him some comfort, so even though he kept it for himself, he prayed when he needed that comfort and that hope that someone, somewhere, might listen.

It had been a while since he'd prayed, though. The last time he'd engaged in a running string of thoughts—which ultimately were what his prayers were comprised of—had been when he'd been searching for Carol's daughter. The little girl had gone missing—chased away by Walkers when nobody could reach her and Rick had gone after her to save her. Except Rick hadn't saved her.

That hadn't been the first time that Daryl had questioned Rick's ability to be their so-called leader, but it had certainly been one of the times when he'd most strongly felt an adverse reaction to the man in his gut.

There was no reason to leave a child alone in the woods these days.

And if there ever was such a reason that Daryl found he had no other choice, he was certain that he wouldn't return back to that child's mother with air left in his body.

It wouldn't even have to be his kid. Daryl knew that. He wanted to throttle Rick's kid just about once a day since he'd met him, but still he would have protected him until he couldn't protect him anymore because he was just that—a kid. Daryl understood that kids needed to be cared for. They needed to be protected. A lot of assholes in the world didn't know that or didn't believe that, so maybe that was what made Daryl believe it all the more strongly.

The next time Carol had seen her daughter, she'd been one of those creatures. And Daryl had realized that all his prayers about the safe return of the girl and all his prayers about finding her alive somewhere had been prayers that hadn't been answered because they couldn't be answered. She'd died where Rick had left her. She'd died before Daryl had even had the chance to go after her or to pray for her.

Like any good mother, Carol had been devastated to lose her child.

So Daryl decided, driving slowly down the country road and drumming out the remnants of a song he barely remembered on the steering wheel to calm the buzzing feeling in his body, that he would pray often and early for the little one she carried.

He would pray that they figured this out—whatever they needed to survive this world—for the sake of that little one.

Because, sometimes, he knew his prayers got heard. And, if he was lucky, they got answered, too.

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"Looks good," Daryl said, slowing the truck down to a creep. "Fences. Could be sturdy. Isolated enough there ain't no threat of a whole damn neighborhood of Walkers descendin' down on us for the night. You satisfied?"

Carol leaned around him a little and looked at the house. She shrugged her shoulders.

"It looks as good to me as any," she said. "It'll be dark in a couple of hours, though."

Daryl hummed. He heard her loud and clear because she was thinking exactly what he was thinking. If they wanted to stop anywhere and have time to really settle the place for the night, they didn't have too much longer to be picky in choosing somewhere.

"Settled, then," Daryl said. "We'll stop here for the night. Clear it. Get some food an' talk about—where we goin' tomorrow."

"I thought you knew," Carol said.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"About the only thing I know for sure is wherever the hell we end up'll be just as good as where we'd end up with Rick snatchin' food out our mouths and clothes off our backs every time we turn around. We'll find somethin', though. Lay up for the winter if nothin' else to keep from freezin' to death. Don't worry."

"Strangely enough," Carol said, "I'm not worried. Not with you."

Daryl swallowed at the odd sensation her nonchalant words stirred up in his gut and his chest respectively. He couldn't say what he was thinking, though. And he got the feeling that she didn't expect him to say anything.

So he simply changed the subject to explain his actions. Carol looked at him with question on her features when he pulled the truck to an absolute stop in the road, just at the point where he would enter the driveway of the farmhouse.

"We'll just wait here a minute," Daryl said.

"Why?" Carol asked.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Because there's a truck about a mile back that's been followin' us," Daryl said. "And I don't want him to go on an' miss where we stopped."

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They pulled the two trucks up beside the fences and filed out of the vehicles to get a look around. Like every other house they'd come upon, the yard was overgrown. There were no Walkers immediately around them, though, so they were safe for at least a few moments.

"See you decided to leave," Daryl said.

"After you left, Rick sorta lost his damn mind," T-Dog said. "He told everybody to go if that's what they wanted to do, but he wasn't going to be threatened or manipulated. Basically—he said if we thought we could do better on our own, then that's what the hell we should do." He laughed. "I didn't know how far he was going to go with things, but I didn't want to find out, either."

"Everyone else stayed?" Carol asked. "Or should we be expecting more people?"

"They know what direction we're travelling in," T-Dog said. "I guess they're staying for now. Like I said—I didn't wait around. I got my shit and I took the truck before Rick was even done having a fit. Glenn can ride with the Greene family. I took his stuff out the truck and left it for him."

"Sorry we made the shit hit the fan," Daryl said. "So you had to feel like you needed to leave."

"That shit was a long time coming," T-Dog said. "You leaving was probably the only reason I finally left, though. I mean—I've been thinking we could do fine on our own for a while, now, like you said, but it didn't exactly thrill me to think of being completely by myself. At least, when you left, I knew that—you know—we could do it together."

"You're welcome to join us," Daryl said. "But—I won't be your dictator. This is a group thing. We all put in, we all get out. We take care of each other. We got ideas and input. I don't wanna be some kinda—this ain't no democracy asshole—and I don't wanna work with another one."

T-Dog held his hands up in mock surrender.

"Neither do I!" He assured Daryl. "Listen—I had just about all I can take of hearing every day that everything I do is for someone else's kid. I'm sick of giving up every single meal I eat for some baby that—man, all of us know what was going on at the quarry and it's not like things ever stopped being weird after that. Rick's driving a whole group of people into the ground, and it isn't even his kid. I'm happy to be away from that. They know which way we were headed. If anybody else decides to break loose, they'll find us."

Daryl glanced at Carol. She looked a little uncomfortable, but she was keeping her mouth shut. If T-Dog was going to be with them, then he needed to know Carol's secret. He needed to know what it had been that had finally prompted Daryl to take the steps he should have taken ages ago to leave the group.

But he didn't have to know right away.

First they needed to get settled. There would be time for some difficult conversations later.

"Yeah..." Daryl said, not sure how to respond to everything that T-Dog had said—not that he didn't agree with a great deal of it. "Well—it ain't...it ain't exactly like that no more. Not now, ya know? We all puttin' in and we all gettin' out." Daryl walked over to the fence that surrounded the house. It wasn't the best constructed fence he'd ever seen, but it would do for a day or so. He rested his hand on it and shook it. "Sturdy enough," he said. "Let's clear the house."

The process was almost always the same. Before they entered any house, they beat on doors and windows to draw Walkers out of hiding. Once they'd made a little noise and gave the slow moving creatures the opportunity to seek the source of the noise, Daryl waved to T-Dog and Carol to stand back and he slung the door open. All three of them were armed with knives, and all were prepared for the Walkers that came out the door. As soon as one cleared the door, Daryl grabbed it and pulled it out of the way. He sunk his knife into its skull even as he moved it away from his comrades.

When the second Walker came out the door, close on the heels of the first, it was T-Dog that grabbed the Walker. Finding it not as rotted as some they'd encountered, and stronger than him for the sheer size of the man the Walker had once been, he set about wrestling the creature and lost his knife. He held it steady enough, though, that Carol was able to slam her blade through the Walker's temple before Daryl was able to get in there and help.

The corpse—now still as it was ever meant to be—dropped to the porch floor and Carol immediately went about searching T-Dog's arms for signs of scratches or bites.

"I'm fine," he said. "I'm fine."

"Good work," Daryl said. "Now to see how many of these putrid assholes are still hidin' out."

T-Dog retrieved his dropped knife and the three of them filtered into the house. It was dark because the Walkers—back when they'd been people—that had been shut-in the house, had closed all the blinds and curtains before they'd died. Their small group made their way through the house slowly and methodically, making sure to cover every inch of it. All of them were prepared to encounter Walkers as they pushed open doors, searched closets, and cleared each room.

They didn't find any Walkers, though, and they all three ended up at the kitchen as was their usual practice when clearing a house.

Habits always die hard.

They searched the cabinets and took out all the contents they found to pile them on the table and countertops for inspection. There was a decent amount of food and two flats of bottled water in the storage pantry.

"They were ready for the end of the world," T-Dog commented.

Daryl handed out bottled water to Carol and T-Dog. T-Dog looked at the bottle and laughed to himself.

"You're not even going to check to see if—anybody needs it more?" T-Dog asked.

"We're free people," Daryl said with a laugh. "We drink the water we earn."

"Man, like kings or some shit," T-Dog marveled. "Cheers." He offered his bottle out to Carol and then Daryl. To amuse him, Daryl joined in the toast. "May there be many more bottles of water to come."

"Hear, hear," Daryl said. "Now let's see what we can do about some meat. T—why don't'cha help me get them Walkers outta the fence? We'll put 'em out near the little gate to keep the other Walkers from carin' to come too close. Carol? You can start—figurin' out what we gonna eat. I'ma see if I can't shoot somethin' in that wooded patch over there. At least a couple squirrels. Run a few traps for meat in the morning. I think I saw a grill around the side. See if we can't find a grate that'll work for cookin'. You can check that out, Carol. T? I'ma help Carol get what she needs out the truck an' I'ma get my crossbow. 'Fore we move them Walkers, you think you could go grab some dry wood? So Carol can start buildin' a fire while we're setting up."

T-Dog accepted the suggestion without much of a challenge. He, like Daryl, had always been fairly content with going with the flow. Neither of them felt any strong urge to demand and command. They were both willing to give instructions when they were needed, and they were willing to take them when they were handed out. T-Dog didn't often voice his opinions, but any time he had a suggestion, it usually turned out to be a good one.

Daryl thought he'd be a valuable asset to their little group—if it could be called that.

But he wanted a moment to talk to Carol in private.

Carol followed Daryl as he walked outside and she stepped around the fallen Walkers the same way the rest of them did. She followed Daryl out the small gate and back to the truck where their limited supplies would be waiting. They'd have to gather up the basics again—since most of them had been left with Rick—but Daryl thought this house looked like it had a pretty decent amount of stuff to offer. The people who had lived there hadn't been hoarders, exactly, but they weren't going without, either. It was all the better for their little trio.

As soon as Daryl was sure that T-Dog was out of earshot, He handed Carol her pack and burrowed out his own and his crossbow from the back of the truck.

"We gotta tell him your secret tonight," Daryl said.

"You heard what he said," Carol said.

"I did," Daryl said. "But I also know he was talkin' from a place of anger. He was talkin' from a place of bein' fed the fuck up. If you take it down to the root, he ain't pissed at Lori for bein' pregnant. Hell—he ain't even pissed at Rick for wantin' to take care of her. He's pissed 'cause he's fuckin' starvin' to death an' he ain't heard shit but—gimme your food an' go in there an' see if anything kills you for the last longest. If he's gonna stay with us, he's gotta know. And the sooner, the better. Otherwise he's gonna be thinkin' we don't trust him or was tryin' to trick him or some shit."

Carol frowned at him.

"He's a good person to have around," Carol said.

"All the more reason to make him feel appreciated and trusted," Daryl said.

"What if he leaves?" Carol asked. "What if I'm the one that makes him leave because..."

She stopped talking, but Daryl shook his head at her anyway.

"If he leaves, he leaves," Daryl said. "But—give him a chance. Tell him tonight. After supper. After he's got a belly full and he knows we ain't starvin' nobody out. Give him the chance to surprise you."

Carol nodded her head.

"What do you want for supper?" She asked.

Daryl smiled at her.

"Cook's choice," he said. "I don't know what I'ma get, but you can bet on some squirrels if nothin' else. You decide. You make good choices."

"OK," Carol said softly. She took her bag and Daryl watched her as she went back through the gate. She closed it behind her, like she should. Daryl dropped his bag at the front of the truck and lowered his crossbow to the ground. He rushed forward to help T-Dog with the armful of large sticks he was bringing from the small wooded area. On his way back out the little gate, he'd help T-Dog move the Walkers and then he'd go hunting so that Carol could make them—out of whatever he got—a feast fit for kings, as T-Dog had earlier declared them all to be.

There was a strange lightness in his chest. Tonight felt like their first night of freedom.