Jo woke and found herself inside the tent. Light was breaking over the mountain and she could hear rustling in the tent next to hers – Daryl and Merle were always early risers.
She rolled over and peaked at her sleeping father. His illness was becoming more apparent as the days passed. If they had to run or abandon their campsite quickly, he would be a liability.
Jo sat up and tugged on her boots. The early morning air was crisp as she stepped out and tugged on a sweatshirt. She zipped the tent closed and stood, spotting Merle leaning against a tree taking a morning piss. She walked the opposite direction toward the lake.
She enjoyed her mornings. It was the only time she could be alone with her thoughts. She climbed down the rocks and perched next to the water's edge. She watched tadpoles dart in the shallow water as she thought about everything and nothing at all.
The sound of pebbles rolling down the hill caught her attention. Jo had her knife in her hand and shot up to a crouching position in an instant.
Daryl's arms went up innocently. "Whoa, calm down, girl," he said, walking closer to her.
Jo didn't say anything. She put the knife back in its scabbard and sat down, facing away from him.
Daryl walked closer, his crossbow swung over his back. He stood to Jo's right, staring at the water with his arms crossed over his chest. "What are ya doin' up so early?" he asked.
"I was enjoying some private time," she responded, throwing a pebble into the water.
He smirked, but she didn't see it. "What's wrong with yer dad?"
"He's dyin'."
"Of what?" Daryl inched closer, trying to see the expression on her face.
"Does it matter?" she asked, looking up at him. "Aren't we all dyin'?"
Daryl squinted his eyes and shrugged. "I ain't dyin'."
"Yet," Jo finished. She stood up and faced him. "Why do you care about my dad so much?" She rested her hands on her hips.
"Just curious."
Jo moved from the rock she was on and kicked her boots off. She pulled her socks off and tugged her sweatshirt over her head.
"What are ya gonna do?" Daryl asked.
"Go for a swim." She pulled her tank top off, revealing a purple lace bra. A long locket necklace hung past her breasts. She took that off too.
"No, I mean when your daddy dies, what are ya gonna do?" Daryl had swung his crossbow off his back and had his shirt off. He was kicking his boots off when she turned to him. She didn't look mad or upset. She knew it was going to happen soon. She'd come to terms with that.
"I'll probably go for a swim then, too," she said, tugging off her jeans. Jo waded into the water and dove in. She didn't invite Daryl, but she didn't ask him to leave either. He took off his dirty jeans and swam after her.
From above, Merle watched. He spit toward the lake and walked away.
Daryl hadn't talked to anyone but Jo in three days. And his interactions with Jo were few and far between. He spent most of his time in the watch tower or hunting. He never expected to see his brother again, and when he did, he died for him. Daryl didn't know how to deal with that.
Other than Jo, Carol seemed the most worried about him. But every time she tried to talk to him she got one-word answers.
"Don't worry too much," Rick told her on the afternoon of the third day. "This is the only way he knows how to mourn – push people away."
Carol sighed and picked up baby Judith. She walked out of the prison and into the warm afternoon. Judith was cooing on her shoulder. She shielded her eyes as she searched the grounds for Daryl.
He wasn't in the watch tower or patrolling the outer fence. She walked to the side of the building and found Daryl trying to lift a heavy piece of sheet metal. The exertion hurt his back and he dropped the metal, cursing. He began to kick the fence in anger. When Carol reached him, tears were streaming down his face.
"Daryl, are you ok?" she asked, reaching out to touch his shoulder. He flinched away.
"I'm fine." He wiped the tears from his cheeks and wiped his dripping nose.
Carol pulled her hand back and covered Judith's head. "Daryl, you need to talk to someone. We're all here for you."
"My brother's dead, what's there to talk about?"
"That. What you're feeling." Daryl leaned against the fence with his arms crossed. "Daryl, I lost someone too. We all have," Carol said. "You don't need to suffer alone."
"I ain't sufferin'," he said.
"Well I know Jo is," Carol said. "She's so broken, Daryl. She doesn't know what to do. All she wants is to talk to you and comfort you, but you're pushing her away. Merle may have been your brother, but he is now your past. Jo is your future."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He kicked off the fence.
"You know what she told me the night you were taken? She told me when she saw you hold and feed Judith that she fell even more in love with you," Carol said, motioning to the baby in her arms. "She said, 'As crazy as this sounds, seeing him take care of that baby made me want to have little badass redneck babies with him.'"
Daryl was quiet for a long moment. "She said that?"
"She's your future, Daryl. Don't push her away." Carol touched his arm lightly and walked away.