Disclaimer: Nope, TWD isn't mine.

Shots Fired

Heat rose in waves off of the tracks and the concrete. For safety reasons, Kenny started giving everyone a break during the hottest part of the day, that first hour after a noon lunch break. It was the perfect time for Daryl to enact his plan. As people trickled out of the lunch area destined for naps, reading, or other relaxation, Daryl tapped Carol on the shoulder.

"Come on. Gotta show you somethin'."

She stiffened but swiftly composed herself. "Let me take Sophia upstairs."

Sophia shot a look between her mother and him as Carol threw her arm round her daughter. The two fell in with the stream of people headed to the second floor. Daryl scratched at his temple. It wasn't as if he'd forgotten about the girl, but he hadn't made any effort to talk to the kid either. For her part, Sophia mostly ignored him or silently eyed him from behind her doll.

"Be the husband first. Figure out fatherhood later."

Or, if he was lucky, he wouldn't have to play that role at all.

If Carol picked up self defense as quickly as he hoped, he would be gone before anyone could ask why he never talked to his daughter. Merle used to say Daryl couldn't undress a mannequin with his shitty personal skills. Thankfully, he didn't need to know how to woo a woman to teach her how to use a knife. And wouldn't Carol want him gone sooner anyway? By the time Carol came back down stairs, he had nearly convinced himself this would be easy.

"Okay, what's up?"

He grunted and led her outside. He'd picked out a good spot this morning while working on the fence. There was a shady area around the corner of the building near the new brick wall. Since everyone was on break there would be plenty of room to move and fewer prying eyes in case he fucked up his husband charade.

The temperature dropped several degrees once they were out of the sun. Carol dabbed her forehead and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Daryl took out two knives and offered one to her, hilt first. "Gonna teach you how to defend yourself."

Carol stiffened. "That time, huh?" Her hand trembled as she took the weapon.

Daryl showed her how he held his knife. "See? Gotta keep your grip strong."

She adjusted her fingers. Unsatisfied, he clamped his hands around hers. "Tight. Like ya actually want to live through this. So you can protect yer girl."

Up close he could count her freckles, a light dusting across her nose and cheeks brought on by her time in the sun. He doesn't remember noticing them before. Clearing his throat, Daryl backed away and planted his feet into a fighting position.

"Can't second guess it. You gotta put all your strength behind the strike."

She copied him and they worked through a few motions. He did his best to correct her stance with direction rather than touch. She had a quiet grace about her and her balance was good. It shouldn't have been a big surprise; no doubt she spent a good amount of time dodging out of the way of her husband's grasp.

Once they were both glistening with sweat, Daryl said, "Alright, now ya can practice on a corpse."

"What? No!"

"Best way to learn," he said before stomping out of the roundhouse's shadow, expecting her to follow. Luckily, they didn't have to go far. Two walking corpses clawed at the fence nearby. Rodney was at the other end of the yard with his crowbar in the middle of his afternoon sweep. Daryl stabbed the taller corpse just as Carol trailed up behind him.

"Go for it." He jabbed his thumb at the dead thing. It was well on its way to collapsing, its deep eye sockets were soulless pits and its hair was nearly gone.

Gulping, Carol approached the fence slowly, knuckles white around the knife. Her first strike was turned away by the chain link. The second struck off bone.

"Gonna have to get closer," he said and resisted the urge to push her forward.

She huffed, but inched to the fence, just out of reach of the skeletal fingers. The smell of the body hit her and she gagged. Carol looked to him for support or further encouragement. When he just crossed his arms, she sighed. Steeling herself, she struck the corpse through the eye socket.

It was a lucky hit.

It dropped like a rag doll.

"I did it!" She beamed at him and then immediately vomited.

Daryl grimaced. He produced a handkerchief from his pocket and waited for her to collect herself. Once she stopped gagging, she wiped her mouth.

"Thank you."

He grunted. "It's only one corpse, but there will be more. The fence makes it easier. You can practice during breaks."

Carol absentmindedly rubbed her arm and nodded. "You'll be with me though, right? Until I get better at it."

"If that's whatcha want..."

"Yes, please." She copied him and cleaned her blade. "Don't tell me I'm good enough after one lesson to forgo supervision!" She chuckled lightly but it faded just as quickly as it came. Carol considered him and then said, "It feels like you're trying to get out of this."

"Said as much yesterday, didn't I?" He said hoarsely as he withered under her blue stare.

"Daryl-"

"Look, I'm gonna fuck up eventually. You saw what happened yesterday. And when I fuck up, we get caught in the lie."

She exhaled through her nostrils. "This is hard for me too, but...don't you think you're making this extra difficult? Is it so hard to be around me? We have to be together sometimes or people will get suspicious."

"What the hell do you propose then?" He used the growling corpse behind him as a distraction and struck it down beautifully. "I ain't gonna swoop you up in...in some kind of..."

"Kiss?" She answered for him, clamping her hands to her hips.

He glared, embarrassment flushing across his cheeks.

Unfazed, she said, "How about this. At dinner I'll make sure I get an end seat. That way you're not cramped in the middle and we're all seen together as a family."

"Alright," he relented.

Taking his one worded answer as a noncommittal huff, she continued, "I guess I can just bring dinner up to you in the room if you really need to be alone. But..."

"Stop." He flushed brighter and busied himself with putting his knife away. "Ya don't hafta take care of me."

"No. I do," she insisted. "We're married, remember?"

Over her shoulder, he spied the wall crew emerging from the roundhouse. Break time was over. Daryl swallowed the lump that always precluded social interaction.

Before the men were within earshot Carol said, "Listen, I don't know when I'll feel comfortable enough with the knife to be on my own. There's still a lot about this place that keeps me on edge. But it'll help if I'm not worried about covering for you all the damn time." Carol drew her shoulders together, as if anticipating a fight, and then said, "Please."

Daryl bit the edge of his thumb just like her plea shredded his resolve. He nodded with a grunt. "Yeah, alright." Then, with great hesitation, he patted her shoulder and muttered, "Good work today," just as Jonathan and Paul waved hello.

Sleepless nights weren't unfamiliar to him.

As a kid he didn't have the luxury of running to his parents when he had a nightmare. On those sleepless nights he'd sit awake and think about the outdoors or flying through the stars. It wasn't restful but it was relaxing. Imagining other worlds took his mind off of the monster under the bed and down the hall. Sometimes he'd drift back asleep. Other times he went to school the next day with bags under his eyes, a sad sight for an elementary school kid.

The habit continued throughout his life. The moonless night Merle left for the army, he sat in the bed of his pickup truck and watched the end of his cigarette burn. One time, waking up after dreaming of his mom, he leaned back in a plastic chair on his porch while the rain poured down the metal roof.

Contemplating, listening, digesting.

He wasn't sleeping now, but it wasn't the starry sky he imagined or the great outdoors.

His busy mind mulled over Carol and the girl and harped on how shitty he'd been. Yelling and cussing like his Ma never taught him better, thinking of escape rather than how to solve the problem in front of him. There were a lot of excuses why, he knew them well. He'd been leaning on them his whole life.

Please, she had said.

Please try to be decent.

Especially since her effort was plain as day. The little smiles she plastered on her face, the fake affection she threw at him. How tiring that must be. But right now she needed him and all she asked was that he didn't act like being in her presence was some kind of punishment.

It wasn't.

Awake and staring at the empty bottles of alcohol, Daryl knew she had saved him from an endless, self-hating binge.

She was the one getting the short end of the stick here. The sooner she was rid of him, the better.

But before that could happen, he was going to help her out.

"In the mean time," he scolded himself, "try to be less of a dick."

They went out in the morning before breakfast was served. And the morning after that, when the ground was sticky with dew. Carol would wave at Rodney and then pick out a corpse to practice her knife work on. If Rodney thought their morning routine was odd, he kept it to himself. Judging from his big wave and whistling, it was more likely that he appreciated the help.

Daryl would give Carol guidance from a safe distance, close enough to jump in if something went wrong, but far enough to give her the room to swing.

By the third day, she'd developed an odd habit.

All her strikes became shockingly precise. Daryl squinted at the locked angle of her elbow and the curl of her upper lip. Again. Again. Same angle, same strike to the right side of the head.

Daryl crossed his arms. When he demonstrated his strikes were more random and opportunistic. Left temple, right temple, eye socket. Whatever was within reach. He frowned as she hit her fourth target of the day in the exact same spot. Repetition was good; it was the very reason why he had her out here days after she'd stopped gagging over the smell, but the world didn't operate on a conveyor belt.

"You should practice different strikes," he said. She attacked another corpse with its face smashed up against the chain link. High, right side of the head. The body flopped to the ground.

"Carol!"

"What was that? Sorry. What am I doing wrong?" She visibly deflated.

He softened his voice. "You keep doing this." He mimicked her strike, eyeing her carefully. "You know ya ain't always going to be able to hit the same spot. Yer gonna hafta adapt to the situation."

She shook herself as if coming out of a daze. "You're right, you're right. I..." She sighed and then pointed to the side of her head. "I'm probably going to hell for this, but it's just Ed had a mole on his right temple. It's easier if I imagine it's him and that spot I'm aiming for," she finished quietly.

He scrutinized her, nearly laughed because he used to have similar thoughts about his father. Fleeting spikes of anger where he imagined shoving his attacker back against a wall, but the daydreams were never enough to spur him to action. He recognized a coping mechanism when he saw one; she wasn't as ready as he thought she might be.

"Feels good, don' it?"

"Yes." She dipped her chin and let the hand still gripping the knife bump off the side of her thigh.

"Hey, I get it. Really, I do. But, try something different on that one."

She fidgeted. "Could you show me?"

He could talk her through it; she'd shown she took direction well. Left temple. Throat. Neck. Maybe a more challenging strike like the forehead so she could feel how thick the bone was there. Instead, he beckoned her to him; maybe practicing on a live human would help break this muscle memory tic.

"Put yer knife away. Give me your hand." He looped his fingers around her sweat-slick wrist. "You're gonna come against taller foes and get into trouble without a fence to lean on." He directed her hand to his right temple. "It's a good strike, but not always possible. See how yer stretching?"

He sure did, her body balanced on her toes, hovering close enough that her shirt brushed against his. It was impossible to miss the silver specks in her eyes. His blush was inevitable with the proximity, but he reminded himself this was a lesson and not some kind of dance.

Undisturbed, Carol nodded her understanding, keeping her gaze locked onto his. He moved slowly and deliberately, having her mock hit both sides of his head and his eyes. At his left temple, her fingers flicked through his hair and the back of his neck burned.

"Forehead is a last ditch effort, it's difficult to puncture it. What's better is up through the throat, if ya got a long enough knife, anyway."

Later, he'd probably sit under the stars and shake his head at himself. Now, however, some unnamable force encouraged his movement, leading her fingers over his Adam's apple. The delicate touch against the soft skin there was at once teasing and curious. The sun sparkled in her searching eyes and hit the little beads of sweat on her lip. His chest constricted suddenly. Daryl swallowed and released her. He stepped back, leaving her hand hovering midair, and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Try it out on those," he instructed behind the fringe of his hair.

The corpse let out a timely groan, drawing Carol's attention away from him. She punched her knife through the eye socket.

"Good."

The second one, she stabbed up through its throat, once, twice, before it dropped.

"You got it now."

She gave him a dazzling smile over her shoulder before cleaning her knife and stashing it in her sheath in one smooth motion. The comfort and ease she demonstrated knocked him back on his heels.

"Better watch out, I might get better than you!"

Her confident teasing was cut off by one of the large doors on the roundhouse slamming open. Someone staggered out into the sun. Kenny stalked after them, stiff and angry.

"Come on," Daryl said, both confused by his disappointment and thankful for the distraction.

They jogged toward the commotion. As they reached the turntable Daryl recognized the person Kenny was following. It was that kid Marcus from the other day at the fence. Daryl hadn't seen him since then.

"Didn't I tell you, you have to work to stay here?" Kenny said. When the kid didn't answer, Kenny yelled again, "Didn't I?"

Marcus dodged Kenny, but tripped over a rail. He caught himself and threw a punch. Kenny stepped out of the way. Rodney abandoned his fence duty to trot over to his boss. Seeing the large man and knowing he was outnumbered, Marcus stopped fighting.

Daryl flung out an arm in front of Carol as he skittered to a stop. He shook his head at her questioning look.

"Don't wanna get involved," he said.

"We can't help?"

Daryl snorted. "You wanna get between Rodney and Marcus?"

She gulped and shook her head.

"Come on, old man," Marcus said. "I'm just a night owl, I'll do the work at night!"

"That's not how it works here." Kenny crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Last chance. Do you have something to give to me?"

"What? No. Fuck you."

"Suit yerself."

Together, Kenny and Rodney made a wall, pushing the young man closer and closer to the gate. Just as Marcus shifted to run, Rodney grabbed him by the arm and twisted it around his back. The kid let out a yelp of pain.

Carol tugged on Daryl's hand and pointed at the guard tower. Neal had his rifle aimed at the confrontation, slowly trailing their progress through his scope. Daryl swallowed. They had been desperate to get on the train, curious and thankful when they arrived. Questions aside, Genesis had been fine, but they were about to see justice dispensed and it wasn't going to be by jury.

Rodney unlocked the gate and threw the squirming Marcus outside. He locked it before Marcus could get back onto his feet.

The kid screamed, "Come on, let me in!"

Neal shot.

Carol screamed.

A cloud of dust puffed at Marcus's feet.

"Are you fucking crazy?" Marcus yelled once he had recovered. "At least let me get my stuff!"

"Fair's fair, kid. I think I'll keep it as payment."

Marcus yelped as another bullet hit the ground a mere two or three feet from where he stood. The kid danced out of the way, moving further and further from the fence and into the field. Kenny stood at the gate with his arms crossed. It only took a few more shots before Marcus just turned and ran into the field. Kenny watched like a sentry until Marcus disappeared over the horizon. The engineer then nodded once to Rodney and gestured at Neal. The sniper kept his scope aimed toward the field. Finished, Kenny walked back toward the roundhouse.

Carol clutched Daryl's arm and pressed her body against his. He didn't have it in him to tell her to cut it out. Not while he chewed over what he just witnessed. What the fuck happened to make Kenny kick Marcus out?

As if Daryl had spoken the question out loud, Kenny approached them and said, "Wasn't enough that the dumb kid was lazy. He's a thief too." He sighed as if it was a regrettable outcome. Maybe it truly was for him. "Alright!" Kenny yelled into the crowd that had gathered in the dining area. "Let's get back to work!"

The crowd stared at Kenny. Eyes like discs, mouths pressed into firm lines. Over the course of a few seconds their confusion evolved into fear. Some wrapped their arms around their bodies as if they were afraid they'd fall apart. No one moved, no one uttered anything louder than a whisper.

That was, until Jules shouted, "You can't...you can't!"

His outburst ignited the crowd. Just small shifts from one foot to the other, ready to flee, ready to fight. Flee or fight. Daryl copied the flex and release of the crowd, curling and uncurling his hand into a fist. He took one half step to place himself between Carol and the mass of people.

Kenny answered, "I can't?"

"It's a death trap out there and you just-!"

Kenny sucked in through his teeth. "Oh. I, ah, Marcus...you see...ah..."

Whispers grew to murmurs and the tension in the room thickened. Carol tugged at Daryl and the two of them moved from Kenny's shoulder into the building and along the wall.

Daryl lowered his voice and said, "Over there."

Carol released his arm, subtly dipping her chin in acknowledgement. They approached the staircase. Daryl mentally counted the steps between them and Sophia and then estimated what it would take to get to the girl if this crowd turned into a mob. Carol stopped half way up the staircase while Daryl planted himself on the bottom rise.

Without a proper explanation, the crowd launched a verbal attack.

A woman's voice bellowed, "How could you!"

"What did he do to deserve that?"

Itchy fingers went for pistols. Others clenched their fists. Daryl's gut dropped. He waved Carol further up the stairs and then chased after her. They watched the scene unfold from the walkway. More people had emerged from their rooms to see what the commotion was about. Furious whispers filled in the stragglers. Furrowed brows morphed into terrified or angry frowns. Parents shoved their children back behind doors and into safety.

Just as the crowd rose to a crescendo, Rodney rushed into the room with his hands high. "Woah, woah, everyone! This wasn't some arbitrary decision!"

The crowd bobbed and Jonathan, in a tight peach polo, pushed his way to the front. "We demand answers!"

Standing tall, Rodney kept his body facing the crowd even as he urged, "Kenny, tell them why."

Rodney's booming voice snapped Kenny from his babbling daze. "I, ah, listen folks, listen." He held up his hands in defense. "I don't wanna kick people out."

"But you did!" Jonathan said, taking on the role of speaker. Jules and Paul shimmied their way next to him, evening out the sides, nodding their heads sternly.

"LISTEN," Rodney said with a hard glare at Jonathan.

Kenny adjusted his cap, smearing a bit of dirt on his forehead in the process. The motion seemed to give him strength. "That kid was, was lazy, which I said I ain't gonna tolerate! But he was also stealing meds. We don' have a lot of meds."

"Medicine?" Jules cried out before Jonathan could stop him.

"Uh, yes. Medicine. I didn't get a chance to tell everyone but Samantha's putting together a little pharmacy, so to speak, off of the kitchen."

"This is insane," Jules said, drawing his gun. "I'm not going to give him the chance to kick me out!"

Before he could get close to pulling the trigger, Jonathan put out an arm. "Everyone, quiet!"

To Daryl's surprise, the command worked.

Jonathan glared at Kenny. "What do you mean?"

"That kid took from me, took from the group!" Kenny said, frantically stepping back and readjusting his cap. He patted his pockets, found no weapon, and therefore took another verbal defense. "I ain't tolerating that."

Jonathan tightened his grip on a struggling Jules and the motion showed just how much broader he was than the older engineer. Still, Jonathan kept his voice even and carefully picked his words. "So this was purely a consequence of stealing?"

"Well, yes. Stealing medicine in these times is a grave offence to me. Nobody is out there making it anymore."

"So you're not just going to kick us all out if we piss you off?"

"No. Why would I do that? I'm one person. Double Rod makes three plus Sam and Neal. Five people...that's crazy. This place needs people, but rules are rules."

Jules wiggled out of Jonathan's grasp and smoothed his shirt with a sniff. The crowd behind him settled into a tense murmur as they digested Kenny's reasoning.

Rodney clapped Kenny on the back, again spurring the older man into action, "So, I, shit. I see I caused quite the commotion. I guess...everyone can take the day off."

"Kenny, if I may." Jonathan stepped forward and placed a hand over his heart. "I think it would do us all some good if you laid out specific rules for this place."

Kenny was taken aback. "What do you think I did when I brought y'all here?"

"Something more concrete." Jonathan's voice picked up steam. People started bobbing their heads in agreement. Laura, Jonathan's wife, took her place at his side. The Atlanta train crowd came together as one entity with Jonathan standing as the head. "Because, now, I don't think any of us really want to be outside the walls. At the same time, there's more of us than you."

"Is that a threat?"

"Just a fact," Jonathan said. "We all want to stay and help out, don't we?" At his raised voice, the crowd agreed with a roar.

Daryl didn't miss the way Jonathan looked out the open door, as if checking on Neal the sniper. An indescribable shiver went up his spine as Jonathan molded the crowd. Daryl tried to sneak a glance with Carol, but she stood in rapt attention with the scene below. It only took a few sentences, but Jonathan backed the crowd away from rebellion to acceptance. He bargained for hard rules and Kenny had no choice but to agree with the mass of people rallying behind their new spokesman.

The power in the roundhouse shifted. For better or worse was to be determined. For now, the crowd cheered the decision and Jonathan declared Kenny would offer the new rules tomorrow morning. Unable to shake the disturbed itch creeping over his body, Daryl didn't stay to hear the rest of it. With a nod at Carol, he retreated to their room.

In between cheers, he heard Carol's soft footsteps follow behind him.

When Daryl had raced up those stairs behind Carol, his shoulders had pinched together in anticipation. He had been waiting for the sound of the first shot. Or the fleshy thud of a punch and the resulting groan. Where was the roar of the crowd calling for blood? Instead, Jonathan had managed to talk his way out of a messy overthrow and, in the end, he might have made Genesis better.

As they got to their room, chased only by others also perplexed by the turn of events, he still expected the axe to drop. Where was the fighting? The wild anger had been sapped out the roundhouse entirely and left rallying hopefulness in its wake.

Sophia was at the door when they rushed into the room. She clutched her doll as Carol directed her toward the back window. Daryl locked the door behind him, fingers twitching.

"Mom? What's wrong?" The girl shook with fear.

"Nothing...for now," Carol replied evenly.

Despite her mother's calm, the girl pressed. "What happened? I heard yelling downstairs."

"There was a big disagreement about how people are punished here." Carol took a long pause, words failing her. Eventually, after a shrug from Daryl, she said, "Someone got kicked out."

"Are we going to get kicked out?"

"No. No," she said firmly, "Don't worry about that." Carol brushed the hair from her daughter's forehead and found a tiny smile. "I do need you to go in the bedroom and read for a bit. Daryl and I need to talk."

With another one of her questioning glances between the two adults, Sophia walked to the old closet and shut the door behind her. Despite the situation, Daryl smirked; the barrier was a farce. If Sophia was like any other kid, she'd overhear this supposed secret conversation. Their voices would surely carry. Daryl said as much.

"I know she'll listen through the door, but..." Carol waved the pretense away; better to keep up appearances. "What do we do?"

"I dunno."

"Do we leave?"

"I said I dunno." Daryl rubbed his face and pulled up a chair. His pulse pounded at his temple as he looked out the window.

This was a perfect excuse to leave; a leader who kicked people out of a safe haven according to his own whim? It was unstable at best. Daryl was overly familiar with the risk people represented. Carol was too. Option one was to pack their things and reduce that risk. But that wasn't the established plan. He was the one who was supposed to leave, and risk the outside. Alone.

"Where would we go? I don' even know where we are."

Carol parted her lips and then clamped them shut. "I hadn't thought about it, but I don't know either."

Wandering around blind was just as dangerous as it was stupid.

"I ain't leaving without even knowing what direction the nearest town is. Especially since," he trailed off, remembering to temper his words and the anger usually laced within them. Oddly enough, it was easy to find a softer tone when looking at her. "Carol, you ain't ever stabbed anything not behind a fence. I ain't takin' ya out without knowin' where ta go."

"We need map then." She bit the tip of her finger and then glared at the old file cabinets as if they had been lying to her this entire time. "I can't believe I don't know where we are!"

The train took them out of Atlanta. It had been a safety line out of a shit storm and they had all taken it not knowing what was on the other end. For someone who seemed so sure before, Kenny's fragility was apparent now. The man could drive a train and that by default put him in charge. It didn't, however, grant him the ability to create a stable living situation. Turns out, he had some ideas about how to survive the end of the world, but they were really all in the same rocky boat together.

How would they survive the end of the world?

Was this the place to put down roots?

There were too many unknowns, starting with their geographical location.

Daryl said, "For now, all that matters is not gettin' kicked out."

"I agree." She tucked her fist under her chin. "At the same time, I think Kenny was truthful when he said he didn't want to kick people out. I mean, why go through all the trouble to bring us here? Wherever here is."

He grunted in agreement, please she wasn't ready to bail. Jonathan's speech must have tempered her fear. Which was good, he reasoned. Finding a map and getting out was solid backup plan, but he'd rather it just be him leaving.

If he left at all.

Daryl frowned, his certainty wavering. "Let's see how this plays out. As a backup, I'll...I'll try and find a map...for us."

"I'll ask around too." Carol uncrossed her arms and then said, "Alright Sophia, you can come out."

Daryl smirked at the girl's swift exit and how she tried to play coy. She must have seen his amusement, however. Sophia dropped the act nearly as well as her Mother replaced her masks. The similarity pricked something in Daryl's chest, flattening his grin.

"I know where they keep maps," Sophia said.

"You do?" Carol's eyes lit up.

"Yeah, there's a room in the back. I saw it while helping clean before."

"Well, that's it then. That's where I'll look," Daryl said. At Carol's excitement he amended, "Gotta wait a few days though, don't wanna do anything that's suspicious right now."

"Soon then," Carol agreed. "In the mean time, we will see how this goes."

Daryl grunted. Hopefully this patience wouldn't come back to bite them in the ass.

"What should I do?" Sophia perched on a chair and swung her legs eagerly.

Daryl waved the kid to him. "Come 'ere. Yer gonna tell me where this map room is."

Author's Note: Sorry this chapter is day late. Hopefully the extra length makes up for it a bit. Thanks for reading!-randomcat23