AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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It had been several days since Daryl and Carol had reported to work. Neither of them were unwell, at least not in the traditional sense of the word, but still they'd been excused for their days of missed work. Someone was excusing them behind the scenes and Carol was certain it was Alice, even though she hadn't spoken to the woman since she'd revealed the horrific plan to do away with any children that might show proof of their wild status in utero.

Daryl was the one that had made the decision to practically turn their tiny home into their very own Alamo. They had no weapons, but that didn't deter him, and Carol wasn't really able to reason with him that nothing they could do would end well.

Like the Alamo, though, they were destined to lose this fight if it came to one.

Carol was trying to explain that to Daryl for probably the hundredth—and possibly the final—time when he saw Alice walking toward their house.

"Just get behind the damn table, Carol," Daryl said.

"It's a table, Daryl," Carol said. "If they're going to kill us? A table isn't going to stop bullets. Not for long, at least."

Carol would have given just about anything, if she had anything to give, to erase the look on Daryl's face. Her own pain almost seemed dwarfed next to his, but she felt his as surely as she felt her own.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

Daryl shook his head at her.

"Please—don't make me ask you again," Daryl said. "Get...get behind the table."

There wasn't any need to argue with him. Like the defenders of the Alamo, Carol accepted her fate. She leaned into Daryl long enough to plant a kiss on his cheek and then she did what he asked of her. She went to the corner of their living room where Daryl had flipped their table on its side, and she stepped around the legs to stand behind it. It was the only thing that Daryl could find that made anything like what he saw as a satisfactory shield. To Carol, it was the equivalent of pulling the cover over her head and hoping that the bad guys couldn't get to her through her magically protective sheet.

When Alice opened the door, Melodye right behind her, she looked around. As soon as she saw Daryl standing there, chair in hand like he was prepared to tame a lion, Alice stepped inside, brought Melodye in with her and closed the door. She held her hands out in Daryl's direction, gesturing for him to lower the chair.

"We're alone," Alice said. "It's just me and Melodye. Put the chair down, Daryl."

"Like hell," Daryl said. "Get the hell outta my house."

"We're here to talk, Daryl," Alice said. "That's all. We're just here to talk. Put the chair down, OK?"

Daryl stepped forward and both Alice and Melodye backed up a step to keep the distance even between them.

"Go!" Daryl yelled. "Get the hell outta my house! You don't get 'em! You don't get her an' you don't get them! Get the hell outta my house! I'm warnin' you."

"Daryl—what are you going to do?" Alice asked. "Beat me to death with a chair? They'll shoot you. They'll shoot Carol for being an accessory to the crime. Daryl—put the chair down, please."

"The chair's for your fuckin' protection," Daryl growled. "Keepin' my damn distance. 'Cause if I had to kill you? I'd do it with my own damn hands."

"Daryl, please put the chair down," Alice said. "Because—just like you don't appreciate being threatened? I don't appreciate being threatened. We have radios. We can call for guards at any time. But we don't need guards. We're just here to talk. We can't do that until you put the chair down."

"Daryl," Carol called out to him, hoping to urge him to listen to Alice.

"No," Daryl said. He shook his head. It appeared he might be losing a little of his resolve. "No. No—'cause you don't get to do it. You don't. They—they only babies. And they ain't even—you know how big they is? Not even big as my hand. Like little bitty apples. Would fit in my pocket. An' you brung 'em to life just to kill 'em and I ain't gonna let you do it."

"I'm not going to do anything," Alice said, raising her hands again in a gesture to try to convince Daryl to lower the chair. "I'm not. But the way you're acting? It's a threat and it makes you look wild—and they'll kill you for that alone."

Daryl growled at her and raised the chair back up from where he'd started to lower it.

"You ain't seen wild," Daryl growled. "Not like you 'bout to see if you don't get outta my damn house."

"Daryl," Carol called again.

"The tests were negative," Alice said. "Do you understand that, Daryl? The tests showed nothing. No abnormalities. Right now? You're the first wild couple we've got who—whose babies don't show any signs of genetic mutations. I'm not here, Daryl, to take your babies."

Carol felt almost instant relief of a good bit of tension that was tightening up her muscles and she leaned forward to catch the side of the table in front of her to steady her shaking knees.

Daryl was surprised as well. He lowered the chair, though Carol doubted that he was even consciously aware of his move.

"Can we talk?" Melodye asked. "We've got some things we need to talk about. Can we do that? Just—all of us sit down calmly and talk? Like people?"

"You're not gonna—kill 'em?" Daryl asked.

"No," Alice said. "Nobody's killing anybody. At least, not if you put the chair down."

Daryl let go of the chair once its feet were on the floor and he backed up from it. As soon as Carol felt like her knees were done shaking from the tension of the moment, she stepped from behind the table. Alice's shoulders slumped slightly and a nervous smile came to her lips.

"Sit? On the couch?" She asked.

Daryl nodded at her. He looked at Carol and Carol smiled at him and nodded. To further invite him to sit, Carol walked around the couch and sat herself. Daryl followed her and sat down beside her. He took a cigarette from the pack that he had there, a bowl full of spent butts and ashes on the table acting as proof that he'd been keeping watch over the comings and goings of people outside their house for days, and he lit it. Carol noticed that his hands were shaking, but she didn't say anything to him about it. Instead, she simply took the hand that he wasn't using and wrapped it in her own as though she needed the comfort that the simple touch offered.

Trusting that the threat was over, Alice and Melodye both took seats in the chairs across from Carol and Daryl in the small sitting area. It took a moment, but finally Alice relaxed back into her chair.

"The tests were negative," Alice said. She shook her head. "No genetic abnormalities. As far as we can see, the babies are healthy. There's nothing alarming there. Nothing out of the ordinary."

Carol squeezed Daryl's hand.

"That's not even why we're here," Melodye said. "At least it's not the real reason we're here. There's been another part of the project that was cleared by the government yesterday. It involves the two of you among others in the community. It's another aspect of the—of the psychological study of everyone here."

"What is it?" Carol asked, feeling her muscles tense up at the possibilities.

"It's going to require a few more visits than originally planned with me," Melodye said. "And also—with Maggie."

"What is it?" Daryl asked, repeating Carol's unanswered question for her.

"We'll need to relocate the two of you," Alice said. She held her hand up quickly when Daryl started to speak to dispute the plan—they knew too well that relocation was another word for escorting people out of the community that never returned. "Not like that. To one of the larger family houses. It's just a simple move. A true relocation. It'll give you more room to spread out and prepare for the arrival of two babies. But—it's also going to allow room for the fact that there's going to be another member joining your household soon. Even sooner than the babies."

"What do you mean?" Carol asked.

Alice and Melodye looked at each other and Carol watched both of them. It was clear that they hadn't discussed exactly how they were going to handle the conversation they were involved in at the moment because they went back and forth for a moment about who would speak. Finally it was Melodye that spoke.

"Carol—we were given some information at the start of the project that was...false," Melodye said. "We were originally told that all wild-born and wild-captured children had been lost years ago through, basically, a series of problems and unfortunate occurrences."

Carol swallowed and nodded her head. Just the mention of it made her chest tighten. She still remembered the feeling of being dealt the blow that her daughter was simply gone.

"It turns out that they were part of an earlier attempt to rehabilitate Wilds," Alice said.

Melodye nodded.

"The idea behind it was that they were children and, therefore, they'd be more easily reintroduced into society," Melodye said. "Unfortunately it didn't have quite the effect that the government wanted it to have. The youngest ones to be placed in homes assimilated pretty well. They weren't old enough to remember anything about their captures or their lives prior to capture. The older children didn't quite assimilate as well."

"Basically, they were still wild," Alice said.

"Most of them have been shuffled around from one location to another," Melodye said. "They've been moved from family to family to see if different people might have different outcomes with assimilation."

"Are you saying—they're alive?" Carol asked.

Melodye nodded her head and Carol's pulse picked up so quickly that she felt a rush in her chest and almost felt lightheaded for a moment. If she hadn't been sitting down, she would have worried that she might topple to the floor.

"Is Sophia...alive?" Carol asked.

Her heart practically stopped when Melodye and Alice both nodded their heads. Carol leaned into Daryl and he put his arm around her, pulling her close to him. For just a moment, she felt distant from her location. She could hear them, but what they were saying didn't really make sense to her. She finally held her hand up to stop the flow of words coming at her.

"I want—my daughter," Carol said. "Where's my daughter?"

"That's the thing," Melodye said. "She's been placed with a family. Now—the adoptive parents have certain rights. So Milton is in the process of getting the paperwork done to dissolve the adoptions that have taken place. As soon as he's able to get everything done, the children will be removed from the households they're in and they'll be brought to the community—as part of the project."

"Sophia?" Carol asked.

Melodye nodded.

"She'll be brought here," Melodye said. "The idea is that she'll be reintroduced to you. Introduced into your home."

"That's why we need you two to cooperate with the move to one of the larger houses that will provide Sophia with some private space," Alice said.

"We'll study your reintroductions and the process of assimilation that takes place," Melodye said. "It's another aspect of Wave Thirty Three."

Carol stood up, suddenly seized with the need to move. She was as lightheaded as she expected she'd be when she took her feet so quickly and she reached out a hand to touch Daryl's shoulder and steady herself. As soon as she felt steady, she gave her feet the permission to pace the way that they wanted to.

"Where is she?" Carol asked. "Is she OK? When—when can I have her? Please—we have to get her."

Melodye stood up and approached Carol, her hand out, like she wasn't sure if Carol might bite her. Carol didn't. She let the woman rest her hand on her arm and stop her pacing.

"We'll get her as soon as we can," Melodye said. "Maybe—it takes a few days. The orders have to go through and she has to be removed from the home. But we'll get her as soon as we can."

"Is this real?" Carol asked, searching Melodye's face for any sign of a lie. "Is this—real or is it just a test? I need to know."

Melodye smiled at her.

"It's very real," Melodye said. "Can we count on you two to move with us? Get ready for her? Without any problems or—or chairs—being necessary?"

Carol glanced at Daryl. She couldn't quite read his expression, but he looked just about as overwhelmed as he had when he'd announced to her that he saw Alice and Melodye headed for the house.

"Please?" Carol asked, directing it toward him.

"Absolutely," Daryl said, some barking hoarseness to his voice. "Weren't no question. When do we start?"

"We'll start packing your things now," Alice said. "The order has already been put in for them to start preparing the house and adding a few extra touches to it to welcome you home. By lunch—we'll have you in your new home."

"There's just one thing," Melodye sad. "Carol—do you know what year it is?"

Carol looked at her and shook her head.

"No," Carol said. "Not—really."

"It's the year 16 A.T.," Melodye said. "And you were—you've been in captivity for a while."

Carol nodded her head.

"I know," Carol said.

"Do you know how old your daughter is?" Melodye asked.

Carol shrugged her shoulders.

"I hadn't thought about it, honestly," Carol admitted.

"I didn't think you would have," Melodye said. "How old was Sophia when you last saw her?"

Carol shrugged and shook her head.

"I don't know," Carol admitted. "Eight? Nine? Maybe...I don't know."

"It's OK," Melodye said, clearly seeing that Carol was suddenly feeling choked up by the fact that she had no idea how long she'd spent in the wild with her daughter, and she certainly had no idea how long she'd been in captivity. "I just wanted you to know, so you could start to prepare yourself. Because—it might take you a little time to come to terms with things, and that's OK. As long as you don't reject her, it's OK if it takes you some time. But, Carol? Sophia is about sixteen years old now. So—she might be a little different than you remember."