The last hopeful rays of the sun were sinking behind the trees lining the horizon, painting the sky a deep red and the low-drifting cumulus clouds a shadowy, monochrome purple. Upon reaching the prison, Mila had introduced Hosea to Rick and Carl who met them at the gate; Carl took the horses to the pen where Flame was. Daryl spoke to Carol a moment before getting something to eat and heading into the prison; after the brief exchange, she turned to Hosea, offering salutations and a tour of his new abode. Mila followed but let Carol do all of the talking, only occasionally nodding in agreement with what she said when he father looked to her for her opinions or recommendations. The tour ended at Mila's cell, where Hosea would be sleeping that night.

"Thank you for showing me around," Hosea said to Carol. His manners were impeccable, but Mila knew him well enough to know that he was ready for her to excuse herself. He was obviously tired; moreover, she knew that he longed to speak to her alone.

"My pleasure," Carol responded with a small smile. "I guess I'll leave you to it, then. Make yourself comfortable." She walked away, pausing to glance back at Mila, who shot her a pleading look that went unsympathetically unanswered.

Hosea then focused his attention on his daughter. He looked as if he was preparing to say something, but Mila cut him off. "I'm gonna take a watch tonight. You can sleep on my bed while I'm gone," she said, turning on her heel and leaving him standing solitarily in the threshold of her room.

She saw that Daryl was laying on his mattress at the top of the stairs, his grey-blue eyes following her from beneath his lashes as she passed by. As she reached the door to go outside, she heard him sigh and rouse from his position, and, though she looked back, she did not wait for him, deciding that if he wished to inquire as to what had her acting so strangely towards her father it would be better done in private.

Just outside the door, she stopped and leaned her back against the railing, and just as she had suspected, Daryl emerged a few seconds later, his head down; the door squeaked shut behind him. He jumped, startled, when he saw her.

"Shit!" he muttered, breathing a sigh of relief. "I thought you were gonna be dramatic and make me chase you down."

"No. I want to talk to someone. And judging by the fact that you followed me out here, you either are curious enough or care enough to listen. So you'll do," she half smiled. Aside from Hershel and (sometimes) Maggie, Daryl's advice mattered more to her than anyone else's. She honestly did not know which of the two (curiosity or concern) had captivated his attention- his expression was unreadable- but she was glad to have it, nonetheless.

"Why ain't you happy to see your dad?" he asked. Mila had known she could count on him to be direct.

"Walk and talk?" she suggested. He gave a quick nod to signal his consent, and she rocked her weight forward off the railing and started down the steps. "It's kind of a long story," she began. "There's something I never told you, and by you I mean anyone in this group. I was with Dad and my little sister, Jody, when this whole thing started." She winced a little upon the mention of her sister's name. "We were camping in the woods one night, maybe three weeks after the emergency broadcasts stopped. These people found us. Four guys. They told us to give up our weapons. They had the upper hand, you know? They'd already drawn and were ready for us before we heard them."

Daryl listened quietly, his face still void of emotion.

"We were all scared. But Dad thought it was best to surrender. . . . I don't know what he thought was gonna happen. . . . Once they had all the guns and knives we had on us, they didn't stop and talk peacefully. Those men were the worst kind of wicked, degenerate, base scum that plagues what's left of the human race. . . . They raped my sister and me. . . . She was only sixteen. And they made my dad watch. Held a gun to his head."

She had slowed to a stop halfway to the fields. Her countenance had darkened. A distinct wrinkle had formed between her eyebrows and her lips curled at the edges mirroring something between disgust and horror. She stood quietly for a minute with her arms folded in front of her chest as a chill ran down her spine. Daryl finally spoke, breaking her from her reverie and disrupting the terrible images flowing into her mind.

"I know," he said quietly.

Mila's olive-colored eyes shot up at him; there were tears in them but none of them fell to her cheeks and her voice did not quiver. "How?"

"Remember that guy everyone was lookin' for a couple hours after you got to the farm?" She nodded. "He was part of some big group. We were tryin' to find out what we were dealin' with. And he started runnin' his mouth about them findin' two girls and their dad at a campsite. Said what happened. Then, right before he shot at me, your dad said he shouldn't have had to watch his girls be tortured. I put it together when you told me who he was."

Mila cleared her throat, hoping to dislodge the lump that had formed there. Daryl studied her face somberly, his eyes trailing over even the most minute details.

". . . That don't explain why you ain't glad he's here," he said softly.

"Because I left him behind. For a reason." Mila swallowed hard, the lump constricting inside her neck uncomfortably. "We decided to hunt them down. We were gonna kill them. We found them a day or so later and watched them for several days. They had the numbers, but not when a small group of them would leave to scavenge. They could be manageable, so long as we had the element of surprise. We made a plan, but, when we were about to do it, he just lost control. Didn't stick to it. . . ." Her voice trailed off and she closed her eyes. "It's what got Jody killed. . . . I don't want him getting someone else killed. Hell, he almost did! He tried to shoot you before he even knew who you were."

She thought about explaining why she had even offered to bring him to the prison, considering what she had just said with regards to her father's past indiscretions, but, as she searched Daryl's eyes, she found a spark of empathy. She knew he understood. Hosea might be a loose cannon- someone dangerous to bring around the people she cared for- but so was Merle. And he had done the same thing for him after finding him in Woodbury.

They stood in silence for a while; the only sounds they could hear were the incessant moans of the dead and the clinking chain link as they clung to the fences. Daryl drew in a deep, exhausted breath littered with the traces of bitter memories.

"It didn't happen," he shook his head and started to chew the inside of his bottom lip. "Sometimes bad people do good things, and sometimes good people do bad things." He glanced down before meeting her eyes again. "Just 'cause he's made some mistakes, it don't make him bad. He's got a chance here. To turn it around." His arm crossed in front of his chest as he reached forward tentatively and laid his hand on Mila's shoulder. "Let 'im."

Mila hesitated, a serious expression painting her face, and gave a swift nod. Daryl's sharp, blue eyes pierced her green ones for a moment that lasted for ages. He gave her shoulder a small pat and turned to go back to his bed, looking back briefly as he opened the door to C Block.