Almost to the end of season 2!

Galwidanatitud: Only a few more chapters til the big ending of season 2, then everyone has to face the real world!

Katarzyna88gb: Hope you enjoy how quick I got this chapter up then! :)

We were crowded around the dining room table, waiting for Hershel to finish cleaning himself up. Rick was standing at the head of the table, his hands resting on the back of a chair with an air of authority about him. Lori and Carl were in the chairs directly to his right, with Jimmy and Patricia beside them. Glenn, Dale, and Carol were sat on the chairs to Rick's left, while Shane, Andrea and T-Dog were at the end of the room near the windows. Shane was currently staring outside watching the road, as if waiting for someone else to show up at the farm.

Maggie, Sarah, and I were near the kitchen entrance, having just come down from checking in on Beth again. She still wasn't eating or speaking; Patricia had to give her an IV earlier to make sure she had gotten some fluids into her system.

I heard the screen door open and swing shut and I turned to see Daryl entering the room. Rick gave him a short nod in greeting as Daryl stood by the wall, keeping his distance from the group. I watched as his eyes scanned the room, stopping when they landed on me. Glad that he had stopped ostracizing himself from the group, I shot him a small smile. I was surprised when he sent a quick grin my way. I was also surprised when I noticed he was in clean clothing, his hair looked washed and even combed, and there wasn't a speck of dirt or blood anywhere on him. Maggie must have let him wash up at some point this morning.

I bit my lip and tried to focus on anything else in the room, my gaze finally landing on my boots. He looked even better washed up and I didn't need him to catch me staring.

Hershel's sudden entrance caught everyone's attention. His white button up shirt had blood stains along the sleeves, but his hands were cleaned. He looked tired and frustrated, but he said nothing as Rick began speaking.

"We couldn't just leave him behind," Rick started, referring to the young man known as Randall who was recovering in Hershel's shed. "He would have bled out, if he even lived that long."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Andrea asked quickly, her brows knitted together in confusion.

"It was kind of bad in town," Glenn said, his voice strangely quiet.

Nobody asked when he didn't elaborate.

"What are we supposed to do with him?" T-Dog questioned.

"Well I repaired his calf muscle as best as I could," Hershel finally spoke up. "But he'll probably have nerve damage. He won't be on his feet for at least a week."

"And when he is, we give him a canteen, take him out to the main road and send him on his way," Rick said in answer to T-Dog's question.

"Isn't that the same as leaving him for the walkers?" Andrea asked.

"At least he'll have a fighting chance," Rick replied.

"We're just going to let him go?" Shane said. "He knows where we are."

"He was blindfolded the entire ride back here," Rick shot back quickly to Shane. "He's not a threat."

"He's not a threat?" Shane said in disbelief. "I was talkin' to you earlier Rick and you told me you were attacked by a group of people. You killed three of their men and took one of them hostage. But you think they just aren't going to come lookin' for him?"

Rick was becoming agitated now. An argument between both him and Shane appeared to be on the rise yet again.

"They left him for dead," Rick said sternly. "No one is looking."

"We should still post a guard to watch him," T-Dog spoke up.

"He's out cold for now," Hershel informed the group. "He will be for hours."

"You know what?" Shane snapped, his voice full of sarcasm and anger. "I'm going to go get him some flowers and candy." He let out a snort as he began storming out of the dining room. "Look at this folks! We're back in fantasy land again!"

Hershel took two steps after Shane. "You know, we haven't even dealt with what you did at my barn yet."

Shane stopped at Hershel's icy tone, turning on the spot to face the older man.

"Let me make this perfectly clear once and for all," Hershel continued, "This is my farm. Now I wanted you gone, but Rick talked me out of it. But that doesn't mean I have to like it. So do us both a favor—keep your mouth shut."

Shane silently stared at Hershel before his eyes scanned the group of us behind him. No one spoke up for him. Quietly, he exited the house. I felt bad for him as I watched him go. He seemed to have good intentions, he just was terrible with the way he went about doing things.

"Look, we're not going to do anything about this today. So let's just cool off," Rick told the group in a calm voice.

Andrea stormed off after Shane, and I swear I caught her rolling her eyes as she did. Everyone began to disburse from around the table and I decided to follow after the group. When I stepped outside onto the porch though, I realized I didn't have anything to do. The last few days I'd been on the search parties looking for Sophia all day in the woods, or making runs into town, or helping Hershel catch walkers.

I made my way down the porch steps and spotted Carol. Figuring I could try to make myself useful and take on some of her chores, I headed towards her. She smiled when she spotted me.

"What'd you need?" She asked.

"Actually, I was going to see if there was anything you needed help with. No one's making any runs today so I figured I could find something around camp to do."

Carol continued to smile at me as she gestured to the laundry basket of damp clothes by her feet.

"I could use some help hanging these up on the clothing line," she told me. "The clean, dry clothes need to be taken down first and folded up. I usually bring them to everyone's tents. Think you can help?"

"I'm not afraid of some laundry," I joked.

I followed Carol's actions and began unpinning shirts, jeans, and shorts from the clothing line that had been tied between two trees. There was a picnic table just a few feet away that we folded the clothing on and were sorting into piles. I had to ask Carol half the time whose clothing was whose. We worked in silence for the most part, but I kept seeing her eye me with a grin out of the corner of my eye every so often. I tried to ignore it at first, but after a few minutes I couldn't.

"What?" I finally asked her as I folded up one of Carl's shirts.

Carol shrugged off my question as if it was nothing, but the grin was still on her face. I frowned.

"No, what is it?" I asked her.

She stopped folding up a pair of jeans, her eyes darting around us making sure we were alone before she asked me, "How long?"

My frown deepened. "How long what?"

"How long have you had a thing for him?" Carol clarified with a sly grin on her face.

Heat rose to my cheeks. I awkwardly cleared my throat a few times. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

Carol rolled her eyes dramatically at me. "Daryl. You have feelings for him."

"I certainly do not, we're just friends," I said a little too quickly.

"Is that why you're turning as red as those tomatoes growing out back?" Carol teased me.

I dropped my head down, letting my dark blonde hair hide my face. "I am not."

"I won't tell anyone," Carol assured me. "I'm guessing he doesn't even know."

"Because I don't have a…a thing for him," I said earnestly.

"Why don't you just admit it?" she asked me seriously. "Are you embarrassed? Because there's no reason to be. He's a good man."

The sudden shift in topic caught me off guard. If I answered her question I would be admitting to having feelings—feelings I was only recently aware of having. I hesitated, considering the consequences of responding.

"He is a good man," I admitted, my words coming out slowly. "It's not a question of his integrity."

"So what is it?"

I let out a deep sigh and avoided eye contact, staring down at my hands instead. "He's not exactly…the most forthcoming person when it comes to his feelings. And I don't entirely think whatever I'm feeling is mutual. Not to mention, this isn't exactly the best time to be having feelings like this. I mean. He could be gone any day, for whatever reason. Or…something could happen…to either of us…" I explained, my voice trailing off at the end.

"So you're afraid." It was a statement, not a question.

"Of a number of things, but ultimately, yes. I'm afraid," I admitted finally, setting down the shirt in my hands and sitting on the bench on my side of the picnic table.

Carol sat down on the bench across from me, a motherly look on her face. "I'm not saying you have to act on your feelings, but you're right. Who knows how much time any of us have left here. But we're alive, right here and now. Shouldn't we be actually living?"

I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. She had a point. We were fighting all this time to keep on surviving, but none of us were really trying to keep on living.

"I don't think I could handle a loss like that," I told her quietly. "It would hurt if I lost any of you now as it is. To let someone get that close to me and lose them?" I glanced up and held her gaze with my own. "I'm sure it would kill me."

Carol reached out and placed a hand gently on the top of mine. A sad smile was spread across her lips. "That's when you hold on to the good memories that you have and keep moving forward."

It occurred to me she wasn't just talking about my hypothetical situation, but instead her own heartache of losing her daughter.

"It doesn't matter anyway," I said, trying not to continue dampening the mood with these thoughts. "I don't think Daryl is the dating type."

"I think he's interested in you more than you realize," Carol said, that sly grin coming back to her face. "He's always seeking you out. He's always keeping an eye on you, making sure you're okay. Ever since I noticed the two of you getting closer, I've noticed he's changed. He's less…argumentative. More compassionate. A part of the group." Her grin turned into a smile. "You keep him grounded."

I sat there with my mouth repeatedly opening and closing. I couldn't formulate a response. And I was pretty sure I was beginning to look like a fish because she started to laugh lightly.

"You both don't even see it," she said, the hint of laughter still in her voice as she shook her head.

I stood up from the bench abruptly, ignoring the pain in my left knee as it banged against the picnic table.

"Maybe we should just get back to the laundry," I suggested as I grabbed the shirt I had been attempting to fold minutes before.

Carol continued her work in silence, but that smile still remained on her face.

Once we had managed to fold and sort the laundry, we turned our attention to the overflowing basket of recently washed clothing. One by one we began to pull articles of clothing out and pinned them to the clothesline. My hands smelled faintly of laundry detergent by the time we'd finished. I'd also managed to work up a light sweat from all of the bending over to grab clothes and stretching up to hang them.

"All that's left is to drop off the dry clothes at everyone's tents," Carol told me. "I'll take half and you can take the other half."

I watched as she sorted the piles and split them as evenly as she could. I couldn't help but notice she'd given me Daryl's pile of laundry to deliver. I was sure that was on purpose.

"What else is there to do next?" I asked her as I began stacking the clothes to make them easier to carry.

"Not much for now. In a few hours I'll be getting dinner started, if you'd like to help with that," Carol said.

I nodded and assured her I'd find her in a while before I made my way through the camp. The first tent I visited was T-Dog's. He wasn't inside when I attempted to call out to him, so I unzipped the tent, fumbling as I did so while trying not to drop the stack of clean clothes. I placed them on his sleeping bag before stepping out and zipping the tent back up after myself. I continued on to Andrea's tent next, finding it empty as well and leaving her clothes inside. I quickly dropped my own clean clothes off at my tent before making my way to the RV where Dale was currently sitting on watch.

"Laundry delivery," I called up to him.

Dale glanced over his shoulder and down the side of the RV. He smiled when he spotted me.

"Just leave them anywhere inside. I'll find them," Dale instructed.

I nodded and stepped inside. Despite the windows and the hatch on the roof being open, the RV felt hot and stale inside. I dropped Dale's clothing off quick on the little kitchenette table before making my way back outside. Daryl's clothes were the last I needed to drop off.

His tent was still set up far away from the rest of the group, so I had a bit of a walk to get there. The fire he usually kept burning low at night wasn't currently lit. My eyes scanned Daryl's own one-man campsite. The dead and roasted squirrels were still strung up between two trees. I saw some wood shavings littering the ground by a log and wondered if he had been sharpening sticks. I turned my attention to his tent. It was zipped up and I couldn't hear any movement from inside.

"Daryl?" I called out awkwardly.

When there was no response, I decided to just open up his tent and leave his clothing inside. I crossed the few steps towards his tent and began unzipping it, peeking my head inside and scanning around. It was empty. His crossbow wasn't even present. I figured he'd gone out hunting and quickly dropped his clothes off on his makeshift bed before I stepped back out. The sound of the zipper running along its track as I closed up the tent sounded louder in the silence.

"What're you doin'?"

I let out a scream and spun around. Daryl was standing with his crossbow slung over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed at me curiously.

"What is with everyone always sneaking up on me?" I asked exasperatedly as I threw a hand over my rapidly beating heart. "I swear it's like I get scared five times a day at least."

"Should learn to be more aware of your surroundings then," Daryl said in an offhand manner before asking again, "What're you doin'?"

"I helped Carol with the laundry. I was just dropping off your clean clothes in your tent since you weren't here," I explained. I eyed his crossbow. "Out hunting?"

Daryl snorted in response. I noticed he wasn't carrying any dead animals.

"Was runnin' a permiter sweep. Nothin' out there. Not even a squirrel," Daryl told me as he removed the crossbow from his shoulder and set it on the ground. He sat down on the log by his small firepit.

"On domestic duty today?" Daryl asked as he glanced up at me. He had a smirk on his face.

I sent him a playful smile. "Not exactly thrilling, but I figure it's better to keep busy and be useful."

"What's Lori got you doing next? Sweeping and dustin'?" Daryl teased.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Lori isn't having me do anything."

"Sure she'd love to. Not the biggest fan of you and Andrea always running off helping with runs," Daryl stated.

"She said that?" I asked him curiously.

Daryl nodded. "Andrea told me earlier. Said Lori was on her ass about not helping with the chores around the camp."

"Then I guess she'll be happy I'm pitching in today," I muttered. "I'm helping Carol with dinner a little bit later. Probably washing the dishes afterwards, too."

"How's your head feelin' today?" Daryl suddenly asked.

"It's fine. Feeling pretty normal today," I told him. "How's your side? You seem to be holding up better than a couple days ago."

Daryl gestured with his head towards the log he was sitting on. I slowly made my way over and sat down beside him. He smelled like soap and leather. I had to fight the urge to move closer to him and bury myself in the scent.

"Had to change the bandage myself yesterday and this morning," Daryl told me. "Still hurts, but not as bad." He raised a hand to touch the healing wound on his temple. "This son o' bitch stopped throbbin' at least."

I nodded my head in response. Absently I began picking at a hole I noticed forming in the knee of my jeans. I could feel Daryl's eyes on me and the memory of my conversation with Carol came rushing back.

"Somethin' wrong?" Daryl asked.

My head shot up. "What? No."

His eyes narrowed and I realized I'd answered a little too quickly.

"Looks like you cleaned up today," I hurriedly threw out to change the subject.

Daryl raised a brow at me questioningly. "Yeah. It'd been awhile. Your point?"

I cleared my throat awkwardly before turning my attention back to the hole in my jeans. "Just…making an observation."

I could feel Daryl's eyes burning a hole in the side of my head so I took a moment to think of a more intelligent topic change.

"Do you agree with Rick about letting Randall go?"

I felt Daryl shift beside me and I shot a look over my shoulder. He was no longer staring at me and I felt myself relax.

"Could go either way," he admitted. "Maybe we let him go and he gets killed by a walker. His group wouldn't find out about us then. But if we let him go and he makes it back?" Daryl shook his head. "I find it hard to believe he won't tell them about us."

I frowned. "So, what…we just kill the guy?"

Daryl's lips were pulled into a strained, tight expression. I couldn't quite read it.

"I don't know," he said after a moment. "I talked to Rick. He said they attacked because they wanted the farm. Don't sound like a group that we'd want showing up here. They might want to take the farm by force."

"Yeah, but Randall was blindfolded the whole way here," I pointed out.

He shook his head. "Don't matter. How many farms you think are around here? They'd find it eventually. Then what? We have a shootout? How many more people die cause of that?"

I was still digging at the hole in my jeans, mulling over his words. "So we start killing people now?"

"I don't know what we do now," Daryl said, his voice sounding a bit harsher than he seemed to intend. "Things aren't how they used to be. Stayin' alive isn't as simple as it used to be. People are different now. You think you'll keep your sister alive if you can't make the hard decisions?"

"Killing walkers is one thing, but people? That's murder. I don't think I could ever do that…" I admitted. My eyes scanned Daryl's face as he stared at his crossbow beside him. "Could you?"

The muscles in Daryl's jaw were clenching and unclenching. "If I had to. To protect the people I care about." His eyes shot up to meet mine. "Don't give me that look," he ordered firmly. "If it was that kid's life over your's, or Carl's, or Rick's? I'd do what needed to be done. Same thing Rick would do for his family. Same thing Andrea'd have done for her sister. Same thing you'd do for yours, whether you realize it or not. You can try to look at it with your morals all you want, but in the moment, you'd kill him. You'd just learn to live with it after."

"I don't know what's worse: that I'm having an actual conversation about someone being murdered, or that what you're saying makes some sense," I said quietly.

"It's either us or them," Daryl's gruff voice said. "Whether its walkers or people."