All around him, children played. The boys raced back and forth, yelling and laughing giddily, while the girls sought shade under a sprawling oak, chatting and giggling about things only they understood. Daryl sat alone on a swing, grasping the chains with sweaty hands. His legs were short so his feet dangled limply above the dirt. The hot summer sun beat mercilessly down on his back. He brooded as he gazed down at the ground.

Suddenly he found himself staring at a pair of pink shoes, little flower emblems stitched into the straps. The wearer had bony ankles and scrawny legs. Daryl's eyes wandered up and he felt his stomach drop.

"Hello!"

Her greeting was cheerful and Daryl could feel himself growing increasingly uncomfortable in her presence.

Valerie Rivera was a tall, skinny third-grader and classmate of Daryl's. Her golden curls tumbled down her shoulders and bounced profoundly when she walked. She had vivid green eyes and thick, dark lashes. Her father, Richard Rivera, was a dentist, thus she had two rows of perfect, blindingly white teeth. She flaunted them by smiling constantly.

"Hi," he mumbled, casting his eyes down at the dirt once more. He had an enormous crush on Valerie, but he would never admit it to anyone, including himself. That didn't stop him, though, from glowing brilliant pink every time she spoke to him.

"You weren't here yesterday. Charlie said it was 'cause you were sick."

"Charlie don't know nothin' 'bout me!" Daryl snapped, his hand instinctively rushing up to brush against his chest. His fingers hovered above the area where his daddy had lashed him the night before. The cuts had stopped bleeding shortly after Merle had cleaned them, but he was bruised something awful. The scarcest stimulation triggered intense pain. The wounds were agitated even by the fabric of his shirt.

Valerie frowned, and Daryl almost regretted his harsh tone of voice.

"Then why weren't you here?" she asked, her brow furrowed in worry. Daryl gulped as he frantically tried to muster an excuse. "Did you get hurt?"

"I felled off my bike an' now it's broke," he lied. She cocked her head, suddenly grinning.

"I think I know what'll make you feel better!"

Daryl glanced up at her, unconvinced.

"What?"

She proceeded to close her eyes and pucker her lips. She crossed her fingers behind her back, hoping he'd grant her request. Instead he just scowled.

"No way. You got cooties."

Her eyes snapped open and she glowered at him.

"Do not!" she defended, promptly folding her arms. She stamped her foot to highlight her exasperation.

"Do to."

Her stubborn demeanor broke in a bout of frustration.

"Why don't you like me?" she cried, visibly distressed. She was a sensitive girl, Valerie, despite her mulish disposition, and wasn't taking well to her first rejection.

"'Cause. I'm a Dixon and we don't like girls." He reasoned, much to her dissatisfaction. She placed a hand on her hip.

"Nuh-uh. Your daddy likes your mama."

"My mama's dead."

Valerie's face dropped and her cheeks blushed red. Only one tiny word could escape her lips:

"Oh."

Daryl hopped off the swing.

"An' even when she weren't, he still didn't like her!" he hissed, staring square into those marvelous emerald eyes, though she avoided bringing them up to meet his face. Then he stormed off, kicking up sand and weeds, leaving her to quietly sob. He struggled to blink back tears of his own.

.:|:.

"You need to eat something," he insisted, holding out three strips of thick venison jerky. "Come on."

Carol shook her head, pushing his hand away.

"Don't have an appetite. Especially not for dried up meat." She replied. The way she'd folded herself up in her blanket reminded Daryl of a caterpillar nestled snugly into a cocoon. He sighed.

"You gotta keep your strength up. But if you don' wanna eat none o' this, I guess I'm gonna hafta make you somethin' else."

He turned to leave but Carol's arm shot out. She caught a handful of his shirt and twisted the fabric, yanking him back.

"Don't worry about me, Daryl," she said, and he eyed her unsurely. "I'm fine. Really."

She gave him a weary smile and before releasing her grasp and letting her arm drape limply over the side of the bed. He grunted some response that fell short of reaching her ears before slipping away to join the others. It was a matter of minutes before Carol fell back asleep.

.:|:.

There was a warm hand on her shoulder. Someone was shaking her gently into awareness. Her eyelids were heavy and sore but she forced them open regardless, hoping foolishly to see Daryl hovering over her again. Instead, it was Carl. He smiled at her.

"How do you feel?" he asked, watching closely as Carol shifted around in her bed. She removed Daryl's rag from her forehead, letting it fall into the tub of water at her bedside with a splash, and then scooted around for quite a while, trying to find a comfortable position. The stiff mattress had wreaked havoc upon her spine and a dull, throbbing ache had already settled into her neck.

"Fine." She replied before yawning. She had opted to sit upright. The blanket was bunched up at her knees. Her t-shirt, once loose-fitting, was plastered to her skin. Her palms were slick and a bitter taste overpowered her mouth, but otherwise, her condition had vastly improved. She was even a bit hungry—and in luck, too, because Carl had brought her dinner.

"Here," he said, holding out a pink bowl. The handle of a plastic spoon jutted out above the rim. She received it gratefully and peered down at the content: thin, watery oatmeal, topped with canned peaches and honey. Despite the sogginess of the oats, it smelled wonderful to a famished belly. "Daryl made it, but it was Beth's idea to add the peaches and honey."

"Tell them both 'thank you'."

Carl nodded and slid his hands in his pockets while Carol silently wolfed down her meal. For some reason, she began to grow uneasy at Carl's lingering. She wondered if there was something the boy was debating telling her. She watched him closely as he shuffled towards the doorway of her cell, gazing down at the floor, which was dirty, riddled with cracks, and far too uninteresting to be staring at. Then he swiftly spun on his heel.

"Hey, Carol? I was thinking we could go on a run as soon as you're better. Judith needs more formula, and I kind of owe Beth something."

Carol swallowed a mouthful of peach before answering.

"As soon as I feel up to it." She promised with a smile. Carl looked strangely pleased and relieved, as if he'd been expecting her to refuse. Then her smile transformed into a smirk. "What do you owe Beth?"

Carl seemed taken aback by the question. His mouth just sort of hung open. All words died before they could breech his lips.

"Oh…it's nothing, really. We just had a bet going on. That's all."

Carol cocked an eyebrow. Something about Carl's tentativeness over discussing a mere bet didn't indicate he was being wholly truthful.His eyes darted around the room. He was checking for unwelcome listeners. Finally, he spilled. At first he was hesitant, but then it all came crashing out at once. Carol's mind whirred to process overlapping sentences.

He started with how he and Beth had taken note and how strange Carol had acted around Daryl after he'd returned from Woodbury with Merle in tow. He told her of how Beth had guessed it was because she and Daryl were secretly in love. Then he took a deep breath and explained how he'd come to the conclusion that Beth was right.

Okay people, that's a wrap to our shortest chapter ever. But I swear I can explain. My computer is messed up big time. Like, biiiig time. Every time I try press a key, my mouse goes insane. I literally cannot write one word. I shit you not. Luckily, I enabled an on-screen keyboard and finished this chapter, but clicking every single letter of every single word is tedious as hell. Plus it cramps your finger. Until I get this figured out, I'm going to have to put this story on hiatus. As soon as I get the problem resolved, I will write an amazing chapter to make up for everything, so don't give up on me yet. Until then, I'm sincerely sorry! :(