And the old widow goes to the stone every day
But I don't, I just sit here and wait
Grieving for the living

I woke up in a bad mood and Glenn's revelation about the barn didn't help. I was as unnerved by it as the next person, but Shane was completely off base and I found myself hoping that Rick would do something about him soon, since clearly he wouldn't listen to anyone else. I found Carol crying in the barn, after Daryl apparently yelled at her for not believing he'd find her daughter.

I reached out and squeezed Carol's arm gently, remembering what Daryl had asked of me. "I think this is just something that Daryl feels like he can do, and maybe no one else can. Rick put him in charge of the search, and I don't think that's happened much in his life, so if you're doubting he'll find her it might feel like you don't think he's good enough." Carol wiped her face and nodded. "I think you're right. I didn't mean that at all, I know that if she's out there, Daryl can find her, it's just hard to keep my spirits up."

I wrapped my arm around her shoulders in a tentative hug. "Why don't we go find him and all head out together to look? It's actually really peaceful in the woods and it might make you feel better to do something rather than waiting." Carol nodded and together we talked Daryl into going out together for a few hours. We took the area closest to the farm when Andrea and Rick said they'd go further out, and by the time we headed back, Carol's spirits were much higher. Daryl really tried hard with her, and I knew they understood each other on a level I couldn't, because of similarities in their respective pasts.

I should have known that Shane wouldn't let the barn go. Rick was clearly unhappy with Herschel's walker-catching scheme, but I assumed he was helping as a way of showing Herschel that he was trying to understand so we could convince him to clear the barn. Shane didn't care though, and just rammed ahead with what he wanted to do, and in the end it all hurt Carol and Daryl more than anyone. I knelt on the ground behind them, tears streaming down my face, as Carol screamed and Daryl kept her from running to Sophia's corpse. I'd never witnessed any pain so raw and tangible, and I pushed thoughts of my own children as far away as I could. They were safe and happy, and I couldn't let myself believe anything different.

Daryl had stormed off to his tent after Carol refused to have a funeral, and I had walked Carol out to the woods for a bit where I kept watch while she grieved. I knew Daryl blamed himself for not finding Sophia, and that he felt like a failure for continuing to look while she was right next to us in the barn. But I didn't have any magical words to make him feel better, and he didn't seem to want to talk to anyone, so I gave him some space.

Rick and Glenn went into town to try and find Herschel while Andrea and Lori helped Maggie with Beth. I cleaned up the mess in the kitchen and left the house in time to see Lori coming back from the direction of where Daryl had moved his tent, away from the rest of the group. She pushed by me and said, "Your redneck friend needs an attitude adjustment. I'm going to find Rick since he's too busy being an asshole to help out." I ignored her and kept walking the way she'd come.

I could feel Daryl's anger before I saw him, but it ebbed slightly when he realized I wasn't Lori. "I ain't goin' to town to find Rick," he said, turning away from me and running his knife down the arrow he was whittling. "I'm not asking you to," I replied. "I just wanted to see if you were okay." He shrugged off the question. "M'fine. Just tired of people askin' me ta do shit fer them."

"I don't blame you," I sighed, sitting down. "I'm kind of tired of people myself. I just want to find a quiet spot in those woods and never leave. Never deal with all this drama, or watch the world fall apart. It would be nice." Daryl settled himself on a rock near me.

"That's what I always had . . . before. My own place, nobody to bug me 'cept Merle when he'd come around." I waited for him to finish but he just dropped his head and continued shaping the arrow. We sat in silence for a bit until he turned his head to look at me sideways. "I don' always mind bein' around people anymore though, 'long as they aren't pissin' me off."

I felt a familiar ache in the pit of my stomach as I looked at him. Daryl meant something to me, possibly more than I was ready to admit, and every time he opened up I just wanted more of whatever he was willing to share. "Any chance you want some company up here? I can stay quiet so I don't piss you off too much." He worried the inside of his cheek for a second before giving me a quick nod-shrug combo and I went to move my stuff.

I kept quiet, as I had promised, but laid out to look at the stars again once it got dark. I'd brought us some food from the house and Daryl had built a fire. Carol had informed us that Lori couldn't be found and that Shane was going to go look for her. I didn't blame Daryl for not offering to go himself; he'd done enough, and quite frankly Shane needed to contribute a little more.

Daryl settled himself on the grass next to me and laced his fingers behind his head. "You know any constellations?" he asked. I shook my head, "I know the names of some but I wouldn't know how to find them." He pointed south, "You like tea, right? Like, couldn' stop talkin' about how much you missed it those first few days. Over there, that's called the teapot. You can see the four brightest in a kinda triangle."

His finger traced the shape in the sky and I could see the outline of a lid, handle, and spout. "How did I never hear about a constellation called the teapot?" Daryl pointed to the west of the cluster of stars and said, "'Cuz it's just a part of Sagittarius. The rest of it is harder to see, though."

"The centaur?" I asked, and he nodded. "Yeah, in the middle of the Milky Way. You can only see it in the summer 'round here." I shook my head. "How did you learn all of this?"

Daryl shrugged. "After I got lost as a kid, I thought maybe I could learn to navigate by the stars if it ever happened again. Didn' work a course, but it did help me trick some girls into lyin' on a blanket with me in the dark later on." I could tell he was smirking and I elbowed him halfheartedly in his side. "Teenage boys are assholes," I teased. "Though I'm pretty sure any girls that went 'stargazing' with you knew exactly what they were doing." Daryl shifted slightly and I could feel him looking at me. "What was your excuse? Studyin' 'chemistry'?"

I laughed. "I didn't need any. I wasn't the type of girl who got asked to go 'stargazing', or anything else. At least not by anyone I didn't find completely boring. I was a bit of a cliché - the valedictorian always in love with some brilliant-but-tortured juvenile delinquent, none of whom wanted anything more than a sympathetic ear and help with their homework. Anyway, I never did the whole hookup or dating thing. I spent all my time studying, reading, going to church, and padding my college applications with extracurricular activities. Pretty boring teenager, actually."

Daryl snorted, "And now ya help juvenile delinquents as their lawyer?" I groaned, "Let's not psychoanalyze that too closely. And I married someone pretty opposite of who I usually liked, in the end. My husband was my first real boyfriend, and we met our senior year of high school and just sort of fell into a relationship eventually. Not in a bad way, just moved from friendship into something more without a lot of drama. Got engaged a little after graduation, married at 20. Had our first kid right after college, at 22."

Daryl didn't respond right away, and we stayed quiet while I tried unsuccessfully to pick out the Big Dipper, the only constellation I thought I might be able to find on my own. Eventually, Daryl spoke again, "I figured you woulda met yer husband in college or somethin'. Seems kinda like a frat boy type."

I shook my head slightly, "No, not really. I mean, he comes from a lot more money than me, and he's outgoing and good at sort of charming people but he never did that whole social scene thing much. We grew up pretty quick, getting married so young, and having kids right away. He's far from perfect and leans on me to do a lot of the more boring stuff in life and keep everything organized, but he's a good guy and a good dad." I huffed a quiet laugh, "Hopefully he's remembered to give them at least one bath since I've been gone, and made a salad or something."

"Ya like bein' in charge of everything?" Daryl asked, with a slightly sarcastic edge to his tone, and I shrugged. "I'm not now, am I? It's kind of a weird turnaround, to be honest. All of a sudden I'm just dependent on others because I'm not very big or strong and never learned how to physically defend myself. But in my old life, that wouldn't have made any sense. My brain was the only weapon I needed, and I learned how to use that pretty damn well. Now it's basically useless."

Daryl didn't answer, and we lay in silence looking at the stars for a while. I was getting sleepy when he finally spoke again. "When'd ya get yer tattoo?" I rolled toward him, so my right shoulder with the tattoo was close enough for him to look at it, and he brushed my skin lightly with his thumb as he skimmed over the names woven into the Japanese maple branches. My skin raised in goosebumps at his touch and I was thankful the dark hid my flushed cheeks.

"Yer kids' names?" he asked, and I nodded, a lump in my throat as I thought about them. "I got it a year ago. I wanted to have something of them with me at all times, and now I'm really thankful I did it. Merle said you're a tattoo artist?"

Daryl snorted. "Hardly. Jus' do stick an' poke stuff sometimes for Merle's friends for some cash." I prodded his shoulder, wordlessly asking him to roll over, and I cautiously pushed his shirt back to reveal the top of the demon tattoo on the right-hand side of his upper back when he complied. "Who did this?"

"Jus' a guy Merle knows. I was pretty lit and must've drawn it and asked him to put it on my back. Don' even remember, but I woke up the next day with it." I laughed softly. "That's a pretty impressive sketch for someone who was so drunk they can't remember, but I'm pretty sure tattoo artists aren't supposed to let people make decisions in that state," I teased.

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Guess y'ain't familiar with the kinda 'tattoo artists' Merle hangs out with. The drunker the better s'far as they're concerned."

I let his shirt fall back into place, suddenly aware of my hand on his warm skin, and laid back down. I couldn't tell if he felt the tension that was making me keenly aware of every nerve ending in my body, or not. He rolled onto his back again, putting more space between us, and it eased, mercifully. The night was peaceful and warm, and I felt safe lying next to him. I must have drifted off because the next thing I knew Daryl was shaking my shoulder gently and saying, "Hey, ya don' wanna sleep out here. Time fer bed," and I stumbled into my tent with a mumbled, "'Night Daryl," and fell soundly asleep.