Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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Silence rang out in the house, the sounds of outside dimming down to nothing, and he could actually hear her swallow. It was more of a gulp than anything followed by a couple short panicked breaths and a shudder. He saw the shimmer in her eyes, the clenched fists at her side, and he knew she had actually done it. She had killed Lizzie. The girl was about eleven years old, and Carol had...killed her.

She wasn't sorry instantly played in his mind, and he wanted to punch those words out of his head for even thinking now was an appropriate time to pop back up. He knew she had to have a good reason. She wasn't a cold-blooded murderer. She was a good woman, and he knew that. He wouldn't jump to any conclusions, because there was a side to this that he didn't know, one that she was struggling to come to terms with, and that meant whatever happened between the two was gruesome. He wasn't sure he was ready to hear this, but he had to. He had to know, and he had to...do whatever he could to get that sorrow and anguish out of her eyes.

Carol dropped her gaze to the floor and squeezed her eyes shut, praying that this was all just a bad dream. She couldn't have said those words. She couldn't have started that conversation. She wasn't ready to talk about it. She just wanted to forget. The last thing she wanted was to drudge it all up and force Daryl to know every gory detail of what happened to Mika, of what nearly happened to Judith, and of what she had to do to Lizzie. She could scarcely wipe the memories from her mind, so how in hell could she rehash it to Daryl and expect him...them...to still be the same? Nothing about what happened there will ever be okay, not Lizzie's actions, not Carol's. She did what she had to do to protect Judith and Tyreese and herself, but the cost was so high. It weighed on her heart, body and soul.

Daryl stepped closer to her, and she didn't make any moves whatsoever. He parted his lips to speak, but no words would slither out. He didn't know where to begin to have this conversation. He didn't know where to begin to sooth her. He was already terrible with both, but this was a new area he was vastly unfamiliar with. He had no words, and no show of affection was going to make this or her better. He needed his words—any words—to try and fill in the blanks prior to her killing Lizzie, but damn was his tongue tied. His heart was pounding in his ears, and his mouth felt full of cotton. Where did he go from here? Where did this conversation go from here?

Carol crumbled like a leaf back into the seat she'd once been in, covering half of her face with her palm, shaking as tears poured out of her eyes. She inhaled a trembling breath and released it, her small body shuddering once more, and she shook her head. She couldn't believe she'd finally slipped up, that the horror and burden of what occurred at the grove had finally caught up to her and wriggle its way into her mouth and off her tongue. She had meant to keep it locked down inside forever. It did nothing to help her move on from those events, but she had no choice. She had to force herself to move on. Otherwise the memories would consume her, as they had desperately and persistently had been trying these last couple of months. Tyreese had taken this secret to the grave, and she had hoped she would too, but apparently not.

She knew Daryl wouldn't and couldn't leave this be. He had to know more, had to know she was all right, had to know why and how and all of the bloody details she didn't want to part with. This wasn't the type of conversation you just had and walked away from clean. It was razor blades and searing burns. It would leave marks and scars, and there would be no forgetting it. It was like a brand, and the tissue just wouldn't allow any ointment or treatment to force it to be gone. No amount of discussion on this topic would ever make it less painful, would ever take away this hole in her chest, would ever make her feel okay about what she did. She failed to protect Mika, and she failed to stop Lizzie. She was with those girls every day for months at the prison, and she didn't see it. She didn't see the darkness and the confusion brimming in those curious blue eyes during their lessons and meals. She didn't see the twisted thoughts floating just behind the surface. She didn't put much thought into Lizzie's mindset and why she thought the way she did. Instead she thought she'd done a good job straightening her out. Instead she left a toddler and a ten year old alone with a dangerous and armed child. A child she had give both the means and method on how to gut her little sister.

There were a million other things she could have done to try and make this better. She could have stayed behind that day, kept an eye on Lizzie to ensure they were on the same page. She could have had a talk with Mika to see if she thought Lizzie understood it now. She knew Mika saw how perverse Lizzie was. She'd said so that day in the yard. She's not stupid. She's just messed up. She should have pushed that, not just written it off as sibling fighting. The signs were all there—hell, looking back on it now they were practically screaming at her—but she didn't see them. She didn't see a single one of those screaming neon signs, and Mika paid the price for that. Judith nearly paid that same price. Two innocent girls... All because Carol hadn't seen it, and that was on her. Mika's death was on her. She told Ryan she'd protect those girl like they were her own, but all she did in the end was lead them to the slaughter.

Nearly every damn day for the first six months of the prison being open to strangers Carol was with those girls. Every damn day Carol read to those children—read to Lizzie and Mika—and taught them how to stab and slash, showed them what Rick and Daryl had taught her, showed them how to be safe. And little did she know she was teaching them how to kill each other. She saw them as Sophia, sweet and innocent and unprepared for what this world was truly like. She didn't see them as who they were, and that blinded her to what Lizzie truly was. She thought if she fought hard enough, if she pressed the lesson hard enough it would sink it, and Lizzie would be okay. She'd pick herself up and survive. She'd become a productive member of the group one day...however all she did was use the lessons Carol had taught her on her baby sister. Her sweet little sister who had to know Lizzie was up to something but wasn't quite sure what. Mika died a slow, agonizing death, and they didn't hear a single scream. They didn't hear her calling out for them. And she must have. She must have cried and screamed and struggled, but Mika was small. She wasn't strong enough to physically fend Lizzie off, and that was the end of her life.

Her tears were endless at the thought of that poor little girl struggling to escape her sister's hold and gurgling up her own blood, of how much it burned when the blade went in and was ripped back—all things Carol had taught them. She might as well have been holding the goddamn knife as Lizzie sliced her open. For fuck's sake, she provided the means, the method and the opportunity. She was just as guilty as Lizzie for Mika's death. Just as guilty.

Daryl watched tear after tear streak down her cheeks and stain her shirt, and his already broken heart began to crumble even more. "I'm sure you had a good reason," he finally spoke, filling the room with noise other than Carol's sobs.

She shook her head, not denying or objecting to that statement, simply unable to verbalize a response.

"I know you wouldn't have done it without a good reason," he pressed. "I know."

"How?" she spat. "How could you possibly know? You weren't there, Daryl. You weren't."

"I know 'cause I know you wouldn't harm a kid without a damn good reason," he snapped back. "I ain't gonna stand here and listen to you say otherwise 'cause it ain't true."

She dropped her hand from her face and stood up. "You don't know me as well as you think."

"And you don't know how well I know you."

She scoffed and stepped back from him. "I killed her, Daryl. Me. I lured her out of the house and into a field, I pulled my gun when her back was turned, and I killed her. An eleven year old. A child." She folded her arms over her chest, her lips quivering. "I might as well have killed her sister too."

"What happened?" He searched her eyes. "What did she do?"

She shook her head and tripped backwards, the tears blurring her vision, and she couldn't. She couldn't. She couldn't. She couldn't say those words. She couldn't speak aloud what had happened on that land. They had been poor guardians to those girls, and...

Daryl frowned when she refused to speak, when her eyes slammed shut and tears continued to stream down her cheeks. He couldn't stand to see her like this, and he couldn't stand the distance she was putting between them. Like it or not, they were in this together. They were going to raise her son or daughter together, and he wasn't going to let what happened in the past influence her in the future. He knew it was weighing heavily on her now, and he couldn't save her from it, but he could help her. He could try to help her. He wanted to, so he had to try with the only option he had left.

He closed the space between them, tentatively reaching out and placing a hand on the back of her neck—very softly, very affectionately as to not send her running off, alarmed. The other rested on her elbow, holding her in place against him, and he didn't move any closer. He didn't pull her into his arms. He didn't nudge her to move anywhere. He just remained as close as he could with space still between them, his eyes closed, and he waited. It was her move—to pull away, or to talk about it with him now and possibly be able to move on one day. He wasn't sure she would be able to, but baby steps. At the end of their journey, baby steps...become long strides and long strides map out the healing process. They weren't always straight and easy lines to follow, but no path worth a damn really was.

She hadn't opened her eyes when he neared, nor when he touched her. She hadn't flinched or jolted, and he hardly hesitated. She'd noticed this more and more since she'd made her way back to the group. He had always been slightly more affectionate with her than with anybody else. He'd held her hand briefly when she helped him stand up after he lost Merle. He'd embraced in her a way she'd never been embraced before, in a way she'd never even dreamed of being embraced before. He'd hugged her again after he and the group found her and Maggie. There were other times, but she was injured, and so was he. They had no one else to lean on...

She realized then just how true that statement was, hand now around her mouth, the other on her belly, and she sealed his offered embrace. She sobbed into her palm, her face on his chest, and she let it out. There was no where else for it to go after all.

"I saw the fire from where I was staying, and I drove back to see what had happened. The prison was in shambles, some of it aflame, and I was only able to catch Tyreese and the girls. The girls were in the woods, Tyreese on the tracks, and we heard from a dying man about Terminus, so we headed in that direction." She felt his hand flex on her elbow at the mention of the place and the thought of its people who nearly brought him, Rick and Glenn their end.

"We didn't make it. Mika and I found a pecan grove while looking for water. It had a gate, food, a stable house, and Tyreese wasn't ready to be around people just yet after what happened with Karen and David, so...we decided to stay there.

"It seemed great. We had food for Judith, peaches and pecans for us, a gas stove and clothes and water. We had a place to start over...but the next morning I found Lizzie playing with a walker. This girl in rags, and I killed it. She went off on me, screaming about how I killed her friend, how I would like it if she killed me, that the walker didn't want to hurt anybody..."

It's the same thing! You killed her! You killed her! It's the same thing! What if I killed you? What if I killed you?! You don't understand, you don't understand, you don't understand. You don't understand! You didn't have to. You didn't have to. She didn't wanna hurt anybody. She was my friend, and you killed her.

"The next day...burned walkers came out of the woods, Lizzie and Mika helped me and Tyreese fight them off. I thought...she understood. I talked to her that night. She seemed to...comprehend that walkers were dangerous, weren't pets or friends, but...I was so wrong."

Daryl's heart broke at the quiver in her words, and he rubbed her shoulder blade, slipping his other arm around her waist. He didn't want to speak for fear of cutting her off and not discovering what followed the burned walkers, so he held her tightly, minding the area around the hand against his lower stomach.

"Tyreese and I went to get water...and when we got back..." Her words were airy and unsure as they glided out of her lips, and her hand trembled, her fingers parted so her words wouldn't be distorted, and she opened her eyes, the darkness of them being shut invoking the memories to replay on a loop. They still were, but it was easier to manage if...she simply kept her eyes open. She swallowed hard and continued when the roaring silence revealed the image of little Mika covered in blood and lying there still on the grass.

"Lizzie was standing by the house...and her knife and hands were covered in blood, smiling at us as we neared with Judith laid out on a blanket on the ground..." Her voice deepened with emotions, her eyes hollowing out. "Mika was behind her on the ground too, her shirt stained with her own blood from the gaping slash in her torso...but her brain untouched."

Don't worry. She'll come back. I didn't hurt her brain.

"She wanted to show us what she saw in walkers by killing Mika and leaving her to turn, and she was going to do the same thing to Judith. If we had been even a minute late to return..." She pressed her lips together and bit back a whimper. "I had to do it. She'd been feeding mice to the walkers at the prison, even killed and gutted a rabbit in the prison...said it was fun. She was just playing. I had to do it to protect us and to protect Judith."

Daryl's heart dropped, and he couldn't process those words. How could anybody process this type of news? Mika was killed and left to turn by her older sister. He'd seen Mika and Lizzie a lot at the prison, always hovering around the gate and by Carol and their dad. He'd watch Carol with them sometimes when she would team up with Hershel to teach about plants and crops, and he knew Carol had taken a shine to them especially. Mika adored Carol, always wanted to be by her side, and it was just adorable. She was...a lot like Sophia. What little he knew of Sophia...shined in Mika. Had Ed not been in the picture, Mika and Sophia would have been like the same person. He knew that was partly why she'd agreed to take them in as her own. That, and her motherly heart. So for it to end...that way...

"I lead her to the field just outside the house," Carol mumbled, resting her head against his chest, "and she thought I was upset that she pulled her gun on me. She didn't want me to touch Mika, to...stop her from turning, so she used her gun to try and stop me. She didn't even consider killing her sister to have been wrong, to have been bad, and that's what cemented mine and Tyreese's decision. I told her I loved her while she cried about me being mad at her and how sorry she was, and...I pulled the trigger..."

He felt her flinch in his arms, as though she were reliving it and had just heard the gunshot ring out, and he swallowed with difficulty.

She snuffled. "I should have seen it. I spent so much time with her and with Mika, and it was evident. It was so plain, and I didn't see it. I only provided her with the weapon and skill to kill her little sister to prove a point."

"No."

"Yes. She wouldn't have known half of what she knew had I not taught her, and she wouldn't have done as much damage had I not armed her."

"You had to arm her." He pulled back to look at her face. "Carol, it's the world we live in. If you hadn't given her a knife, she would have died."

"She still died," Carol informed him bitterly.

He searched her eyes. "Yeah, but it could've been worse."

"Like how Mika died? Cut from clavicle to navel?" She returned his searching look. "I might as well have killed her too. With how little I—"

"No," he interjected. "You didn't kill her. It wasn't your fault. You didn't touch her."

"I didn't protect her. I didn't see what she told me at the prison until it was too late. She was just a child, and she understood Lizzie's mental instability in her own way. I'm an adult. I should have seen it. I should have done something. I told Ryan I'd look after them like they were my own, so I suppose that was my first mistake." She gave a mirthless laugh. "I couldn't protect my own daughter, so why in hell did I think I could protect his?"

"You did everythin' you could."

"Did I?" She pulled away from him. "Because if I did...wouldn't at least one of them still be here?! Wouldn't Mika be downstairs playing with Judith? Or going to class?! Or helping me cook in the kitchen?! If I had done everything I could have...wouldn't she be here right now?"

He lowered his gaze without a word.

"I failed to do one of the most important jobs I've ever had repeatedly." Her hand found the lump on her stomach. "And I can't handle that happening again. I really can't. Every single night I remember what happened to the girls, my girls, every single night I relive my failures, and I can't... I can't. I can't. I can't..."

He lifted his head as she fell apart again, and he stepped towards her. "It wasn't your fault, all right? I know you ain't gonna believe me that easy. I know it just sounds like lies, like I'm tryin' to make you feel better, but it's the truth." He shuffled his feet. "Just like what happened to Beth ain't on me. I...it ain't on Maggie, and it ain't on Noah. It's on Dawn, and she's dead.

"People make their own choices, and we can't stop 'em. It's free will. It's what makes us people and not puppets. You can't help what someone else does, even if you could have helped them...in the end it's their decision and their actions. You were only an influence...one they ignored." He sighed softly. "I wish things had ended differently...a million times over. Like with my brother. Like with Hershel and Phillip. Like with Sophia—I really wanted to bring her home to you. I thought...I could, but...then she was stumblin' outta the barn, and it was all I could do to stop you from runnin' up and gettin' bit 'cause...I couldn't have lost you too."

"D—"

"It isn't your fault," he tenderly interrupted her. "Lizzie wasn't stable, and she made the decision to kill her sister to try and prove that walkers were more than just stumblin', hungry corpses. I know it ain't easy to hear, but it's the truth. You couldn't have stopped her, because sooner or later she would have made that choice, and...later it might have cost you more."

"More than an innocent child's life?"

"Maybe."

"I doubt that."

"She might have gone after you and Ty and Ass Kicker and Mika in the night. You could all be dead right now." He was yelling. "That's worse than just one life, and I ain't tryin' say Mika's life didn't mean much, but...at least it was just one. It doesn't make it fair or right. It's shit, okay? It shouldn't have happened, but it did. It did, and at least it wasn't all of y'all."

"It might as well have been. Mika's dead. Lizzie's dead. Tyreese is dead." She listed. "All that's left is me and Judith."

"And that's everythin' to me."

She peered him, brows knitted together, and she frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talkin' about what you mean to me, and it's a lot. I know what happened with the girls was horrifyin', and I can't fully grasp just how much because I wasn't there. I don't have all the details, but I do know that you did your best. You always do. I know it's not gonna be easy comin' back from this—it never is—but I'm here for you. You don't have to carry this alone anymore."

"It's not carrying it that's the problem, and you carrying it with me won't help me."

"Well, will running away help?" he demanded. "You've tried twice, and it worked the second time. Did it help?"

She tensed. "Who—?"

"Tobin."

"Of course." She crossed her arms. "So you know that day by the gate...was me coming back?"

He nodded. "You didn't even tell me you were goin'."

"The point of leaving is to leave. You wouldn't have let me. That's why I left a note with Tobin. I couldn't risk you finding out and coming after me. I needed to be alone, and I still do. There's more to this than you know, than you can understand—"

"Understand?" He scoffed. "I understand just fine."

"No, you don't. We're different people. You can say we're not, but we are. You don't know what it's like to live a day in my head, like I don't know what it's like to live a day in yours. You didn't pull the trigger. You weren't there."

"I can still understand what you went through. I've had to do it too."

"Dale doesn't compare to a little girl who just gutted her sister."

He shook his head. "You just don't want to let anybody in. You can't pretend forever."

"I'm not pretending, Daryl! I'm exhausted! I'm worried all the time, because I can't do what I need to do to live here with all of you! I can't do it anymore. I love you all, but I need to get away from you."

"Why? Why do you need to?"

"Because I can't kill anymore!" she erupted. "I can't kill to protect you, and if I can't kill, it'll just come to ruin us. Like Andrew and Phillip. I can't pretend it's all okay, because it's not. I have so much blood on my hands...and I can't anymore. It's too much. I had to leave to protect you all. I'll only get someone killed."

"You're not worthless if you can't kill."

"But I'm a risk if I can't." She studied his eyes. "There will always be something else, Daryl. A new threat, a new asshole who wants what we have, and we'll have to fight. We'll lose people, people we love and who will leave a scar on us. But they'll lose people too. We'll kill them for killing ours and for trying to take what's ours, and I can't be apart of that. I can't just expect to sit on the sidelines either. If anything were to happen to you...any of you...because I couldn't be there...because I couldn't kill for you...I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

"It wouldn't be on you."

"It might be, and I can't afford for that to happen. That's why I left." She averted her gaze and released a breath. "That's why I still need to get away from you all."

He scrutinized her. "Well, it ain't like you're fit to protect anythin' right now." She shook her head and opened her mouth, but he wouldn't let her speak. "You're pregnant, and we aren't gonna let you go out there to do anythin'. I don't know how much space you need, but...we can give it to you."

"I've already tried to work through this—"

"Yeah, by yourself." He stepped toward her. "I know you don't wanna kill, and you won't have to. We'll handle anythin' that happens, and you're not gonna be alone to have to worry about killin'. I'll be here. For you, for the baby—I'm here. I know you want to be completely alone, but...if you can't kill, you're vulnerable, and I don't want that, so I'm gonna be there as quietly as I can be. You'll get through this, and if you still can't kill, I'll be there to ensure you don't have to."

"Daryl, I can't ask you to do that. You'll waste your life to protect mine, and I don't want that either."

"It won't be a waste."

She shivered as he closed the space between them, his hands coming to rest on her upper arms, and she tearfully gazed up at him, drinking in those baby blue eyes and the affection hovering there. Her shoulders trembled under his touch, and she couldn't stop the tears that slid down her cheeks. She was so tired of arguing, so tired of running, and she could stop. She could finally stop, but it was just temporary. In a month or two or a year, this issue would come back, and they'd be back at square one. She knew that. Once the baby was born...she would have to discover if she could kill for the sake of her community and her child, or be the cause of their deaths.

"You don't have to," he softly reminded her. "You don't."

She snuffled and swallowed hard.

"I'm gonna be here...whatever comes, and it's my choice. I won't regret it, and it ain't a waste." He smiled tenderly at her. "I'll keep you both safe."

She broke down once more, wrapping her arms around him tightly, and she buried her face in his chest. He held her close, rubbing her back and holding her up. He meant what he said, and he would tell her how he felt when the time was right. It wasn't at the moment, and right now he was more concerned with her well-being. He'd take care of her then he'd tell her. Or show her. He always was better with showing than telling, he thought as he held Carol in his arms.