A/N: So it seems that there are a few out there who would like to see more from this story. Fine by me! Thank you to those of you who kindly left me a review or added this story to your list of favourites or follows. I am truly honoured!

I do hope you like where I've chosen to go for this chapter. I am still getting a feel for writing these characters. I have tried to stay true, but there is always a bit of an adjustment period when you write for a character for the first time.

Anywho, I'll leave you to get on with it now. Enjoy ^_^

Strong fingers gripped at her shoulders, shaking her violently. She cried out, willing it to all be over. Bite me. Bite me, she thought. Bite me. She held her breath, waiting for the sharp pain of teeth meeting flesh.

But it never came.

A frenzied voice hissed in her ear. Her name. Someone was calling her name.

Another shove.

"Carol? Come on now. Wake up!"

Her eyes snapped open, revealing an expanse of darkness. A relieved sigh came from behind her. Pushing herself up on unsteady arms, she pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes before turning to see Rick's worried face illuminated only by the faint light of the moon once again hiding behind the clouds. A shaky smile crossed his grizzled features and he sat down heavily beside her.

"Jesus, Carol," he said, scrubbing at his face with his hands. "You scared the shit out of me. That must have been one hell of a bad dream you were having." He eyed her warily and she ducked her head, nodding once, her gaze fixed on her hands which fidgeted with the fraying hem of Daryl's poncho.

"Sorry," she mumbled, keeping her gaze averted, suddenly over come with a deep sense of shame. It had all been a dream. But it had seemed so very real. The emotions, the feeling of immense loss. The hopelessness of going on in a world without Daryl in it. Goddammit! Was she really that weak? She had managed to pick herself up and move on after the death of her own daughter, for Christ's sake. And now here she was, giving real thought to the idea of giving herself over to death over the loss of a friend? Granted, he was the best friend she'd ever had and she knew that if anything ever happened to him, she would be devastated. But surely, she would feel the same if something happened to any member of their tight-knit group, wouldn't she?

She pondered that thought for a moment, a tight knot forming in the pit of her stomach as she realized that wasn't true at all. Of course she had mourned the loss of others - most recently Lori and T-Dog - but she had moved on. She'd had no choice. The group had rallied and remained strong despite their dwindling numbers. No, she couldn't lie to herself anymore. What she felt for Daryl went far deeper than her feelings for anyone else in her life both past and present, with the one exception of Sophia. She had loved Sophia with all her heart. She clutched the poncho a little tighter around herself as she realized that she loved him too. She loved Daryl Dixon.

"You okay?"

She raised her head and turned to face Rick with an apologetic smile. "Yeah. I am," she said. "I just... I thought he was bit."

Rick placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. "He'll be fine. You'll see," he assured with a confidence that was almost contagious. "What was it he said... Nothing can kill a Dixon but a Dixon? Him and Merle... they'll be back. You wait and see."

She nodded. "I think I'm gonna go inside," she said, using the railing to pull herself to her feet. She gathered the poncho in her arms and gave Rick a small smile when he bent and handed her the bowl of stew, now stone-cold.

"Warm that up when you get inside," he insisted. "You'll feel better with some food in your belly."

"Okay," she said, although she knew she wouldn't. Her stomach was tied in knots. "Stay safe out here," she said. "And... if... can you..."

"You'll be the first person I come to when he gets back, okay? I promise."

Carol smiled and slowly made her way down the stairs and across the courtyard. She slipped through the door and across the common area, tiptoeing through the cell block to the stairs leading to the second level. She crept along the catwalk, pausing outside of her own cell. She knew she wouldn't get a wink of sleep now, not after that dream. So she continued along to the second cell from the end. She pushed aside the blanket hung over the doorway for privacy and sunk down on to the hard cement floor, wrapping the poncho around her shoulders once more and looking around at her surroundings in the faint moonlight seeping in around the edge of the blanket in the doorway.

It was funny. She felt more at home here amongst his things than she did in her own cell. He was surprisingly neat, for someone who was constantly dirty. He had organized little piles around the room; a collection of sticks waiting to be whittled into bolts, feathers for fletching, skins from some of his kills which he had confessed he was planning to treat so that they could be used to help keep them warm through the coming winter so they didn't freeze like they had the winter before.

She looked over at the little heap of clothes in the corner. Although they weren't exactly folded, they were at least all in one place and not thrown all over the floor. She couldn't help but smile as she sorted through them; did the man actually have anything that wasn't ripped or torn nearly to pieces? She went through his shirts - not a single one with a full set of sleeves still attached. And of the three pairs of pants she found, two of them were worn clear through at the knees and the third was not far behind.

She sighed. She had been looking for something to keep her occupied and awake and she had found it. She padded silently to her cell and rummaged around for a moment before she found the small sewing kit Glenn had brought back for her after a run a few weeks ago. She grabbed a flashlight from beside her bed and went back to his cell to wile away the hours until he returned, or until sleep took her, whichever came first.

The hill wasn't really all that big, but it could have been Mount Fucking Everest as far as Daryl was concerned. He was mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted. In the long line of shitty days that made up his life, this one had been the shittiest by far.

He grunted with the effort as he climbed the last few feet to the top of the small knoll, the last obstacle between him and his destination. The prison loomed, dark and silent only a few hundred yards away now and he slumped to his knees, pulling the strap of his crossbow over his head and dropping it to the ground beside him. He was relieved to be back, he really was. But he just wasn't ready. Not yet. He wasn't ready for what he knew was to come.

He couldn't deal with the looks he knew he would get. He didn't need their pity and he didn't want it. So many times in his life, he'd been on the receiving end of those looks and he didn't know if he could stand to see it on the faces of these people who for some crazy-ass reason had decided he was a worthwhile and integral part of their miniature society. He'd put up with those looks all his life; when his mother had burned herself to a fucking crisp, or every time the cops responded to a domestic disturbance call and had to stop his asshole of a father from beatin' on his sorry ass, or whenever he showed up at the cop shop to hand over the money he'd managed to scrape together to bail Merle out of jail... again. Fuck. He'd thought that with the end of the world and all, he'd put that shit behind him. Every single person he knew was in just as miserable a situation as he was, so there was no sense in handin' out pity these days. But he knew... he just knew that the second he walked through that goddamn fence they'd put two and two together. He'd come back without his brother. Come back covered in blood; his brother's blood. They'd see him and they'd know what he'd done. What that fucking Governor left him no choice but to do. And they would pity him.

He'd seen them do it before. When Andrea'd had to put down Amy, they'd looked at the blonde like she was gonna break. And when Sophia... He shook his head. He was not gonna go there right now. After almost a year it was still too painful to think of that little girl and how he'd let her and her mother down. If he'd only been faster, smarter, better...

Fuck. An unpleasant mix of guilt and sadness churned in his gut. He'd screamed and railed at Carol - a grieving mother who didn't deserve his wrath but took it nonetheless - that if she'd only paid more attention to her daughter, only kept an eye on her, then Sophia'd have been okay. Well, karma, ain't you a fucking bitch? he thought wryly as his own words came back to haunt him now. If he'd only stayed closer to Merle, kept a better eye on him... Merle was no child, but he was Daryl's responsibility. The only reason he'd been at the prison in the first place was because that was where Daryl wanted to be, so it fell on Daryl to keep him in line, keep him away from the others.

Taking a shaky breath, Daryl clenched his fists and pressed his knuckles against his eyes in a vain attempt to hold himself together. He couldn't lose it again, not like he had while laying in the grass beside his brother's twice-mutilated corpse. It weighed on him, that heavy burden of guilt. He'd been so fucking selfish, expecting everybody to change, to adapt just because it was what he wanted. The great Daryl Dixon has spoken. Merle stays and to hell with all y'all if you don't like it.

Like a fucking fool, he'd blindly hoped that it would all work out. People would just learn to accept that this was how it was. They would forgive and forget. But deep down inside, he'd known it would never happen. You couldn't force oil and water to mix and the wounds between the two sides of his family were too deep. It was only a matter of time before he was going to lose one or the other eventually.

Fucking hope and goddamn optimism.

Merle never understood what it meant to Daryl to be a part of that group, that family. With them, he was needed. He'd never had that before, not once in his pathetic life had anyone ever needed him. But they did. And it was more than just because he put food in their bellies and helped keep them safe. They trusted him, respected him. Him. He - Daryl Dixon - mattered. They looked to him for leadership, they valued his opinion, they cared about him. Before the world had gone to shit, he could've counted the number of people who'd ever given a flying fuck about him on one hand and still had fingers to spare.

And he needed them too. Glenn was right - they were his family just as much as Merle ever was. He needed Hershel's quiet wisdom, Beth's sweet kindness, the camaraderie he had with Rick, Maggie and Glenn. Hell, he was even coming around to Carl, the kid that had driven him nuts back at the farm, never staying where he was told and wanting to grow up too damn fast. And Lil Asskicker... he'd be damned if he wasn't going to be around to keep her safe. That sweet little thing was the apple of his eye and he couldn't stand to miss out on watching her grow, watching Carol lovingly tend to her as if she were her own.

Goddammit. Carol. How could he have even thought about leaving her? She was the best friend he'd ever had, even if she did drive him to the brink with her constant teasing and the flirting that left him baffled, confused and just a little bit flustered. Damn woman had gotten under his skin. She brought out a side to him he'd never known was there. He wanted to take care of her, not just by making sure she had a full belly and a warm place to lay her head at night. But he wanted her to be happy. More than anything else, he wanted her to be happy. He had failed her so badly back at the farm, constantly giving her hope only to have it snatched cruelly away when her little girl stumbled out of that fucking barn. But she'd never held it against him; no, it only spurred her on to make sure he didn't pull away. She was the one that truly made him feel that he had earned his place with the group despite his many shortcomings and he would remember her kindness until his dying day.

He'd put it all together in his mind not a moment too soon while wandering out in the woods with Merle after the pair of them had split from Rick and the others outside Woodbury. Each and every one of those people in the prison meant something to him. It was then that he'd made up his mind; he wasn't gonna hide in the woods tagging along after his big brother anymore. He'd found somewhere that he belonged and that's where he was going to stay.

He released a heavy breath and looked up at the prison. It was dark, but his eyesight was good and he could see a dark shape that was too tall and lanky to be anyone other than Rick standing guard up in the tower, his head slowly turning this way and that while he scanned the horizon Daryl grunted when Rick's gaze passed right by the very spot he was sitting and then kept right on going. Fucking joke, he grumbled to himself, slowly pushing himself to his feet and grabbing his crossbow. What the hell was the point of having people on watch if they couldn't see worth shit? He was sitting right out in the open for Christ's sake. Fucking place was going to shit and he hadn't even been gone for a whole goddamn day.

He continued his internal diatribe, latching on to the anger that had sprung up inside of him to give him the fuel he needed to trudge the last distance to the prison. Anger was something he was comfortable with. He was good at anger. He wasn't good at all this introspective bullshit he'd been doing up on that fucking hill. He mentally kicked himself for being so stupid. He was such an idiot; sitting out there alone in the dark, lost in his thoughts. What the fuck was he thinking, letting his guard down like that? He could have been walker bait, or the Governor or that sneaky fuck Martinez could've killed him where he sat and he'd never have heard them coming.

"You're a fuckin' moron," he muttered to himself as he approached the fence. "Real piece of work. Got more important things to do than sit around feeling sorry for your damn self. Merle'd kick your fuckin' ass for being such a fuckin' pussy." He clenched his jaw, trying to forget the last image he had of his brother; dead, but not dead. Advancing on him with lifeless eyes, his features contorted, blood and guts dripping from his mouth.

"Fuck you, Merle," he grumbled, swiping angrily at the tears that had come unbidden to his eyes. "Why'd you have to start givin' a shit now? You fuckin' prick. Fuckin' asshole. Useless piece of shit." He took a shaky breath and ran his fingers agitatedly through his hair. He knew he wasn't really mad at Merle. For the first time in his life, Merle had put his little brother ahead of himself, and for that Daryl was grateful. But it hurt that Merle's grand gesture, his attempt at redemption, had cost him his life. And it was easier to be mad at Merle than let himself grieve. Being mad at Merle was familiar. It was routine. And right now, it was the only thing keeping him from losing it altogether.

He glanced up at the tower again to see if Rick had spotted him yet. He hadn't. Rolling his eyes and vowing to have Hershel check Rick's eyes for night-blindness, Daryl reached down to his side to retrieve the large ring of keys jangling at his side. He'd forgotten to leave them with Rick when he took off in search of his brother, and although it was irresponsible of him to leave the group without the second set, he was glad of it now. If he had to wait for Rick to notice him standing here he'd be out here all fucking night.

It took a moment in the pale light of the moon, but he found the right key and he raised his arms to unlock the heavy padlock that held their makeshift entrance together. His hands worked quickly to unlace the wire from the fence and soon he was on the other side, winding the wire back through the mesh and snapping the padlock back into place. He leaned back against the fence and let out a heavy sigh.

For better or for worse, he was home.

He shouldered his crossbow and began the trek up the path toward the courtyard. Gravel crunched under his feet and he heard the guttural growls and moans of the walkers as his movements drew their attention. He glanced up toward the tower and saw that he had caught Rick's attention too, the man lowering his rifle and offering a wave before disappearing inside the tower, emerging seconds later through the door into the courtyard. He jogged over to the gate and unlatched the chain to draw it aside and allow Daryl to pass through before sliding it closed and securing it once more.

Daryl waited for Rick, who fell into step beside him as they slowly crossed the courtyard heading toward the entrance to the cell block. Outside the heavy doors, Rick paused, placing a stilling hand on Daryl's shoulder. Daryl stopped, but kept his eyes averted.

"Merle?" Rick asked quietly.

His mouth clamped shut, Daryl shook his head.

Rick clapped his shoulder once more, then squeezed gently with his fingers. "I'm sorry, brother. I'm so sorry."

Daryl glanced up at Rick. There was no pity in Rick's eyes. Sorrow. Understanding. But no pity. Daryl nodded his head in thanks, stepping away from Rick and heading toward the door.

"Uh... Carol was lookin' for you earlier," he heard Rick say. "Might be a bit late, but I did promise her I'd let her know when you were back." Daryl stopped in his tracks. "I can't go in yet. Got another hour on watch," Rick continued. "Maybe you can do me a favour and let her know you're alright. Wake her up if you have to. Don't think she'd mind."

Daryl nodded stiffly before he grabbed the handle and yanked open the door, slipping inside and tugging the door closed behind him. He grimaced when it slammed shut with a loud bang and he waited, straining his ears for any sign that he'd disturbed the slumbering people within. The last thing he wanted was to wake Lil Asskicker and have her bawling the rest of the night keeping everyone up.

But the silence remained and he breathed a sigh of relief. He descended the stairs into the common area, inhaling the scent of whatever the group had eaten for dinner. He could tell from the smell that Beth had probably made it. Or Maggie. Not that it smelled bad. Just that Carol's cooking always smelled fucking fantastic. He poked around and found that whatever it had been, there was none left. He huffed and grabbed a handful of crackers from a box on the shelf beside the gas cooktop, then quietly slunk into the cell block. He tiptoed up the stairs and lingered just outside Carol's cell.

It was quiet and although Rick had told him to, he just couldn't bring himself to wake her. She so rarely got a good night's sleep, getting up with the baby at all hours and getting up so early to make sure that everyone got something to eat before they headed out for the day. So he continued on toward his own cell. He tiredly shoved aside the blanket he'd hung over his door when he'd claimed this cell for his own, a feeble attempt to keep the others from invading his space, giving him the illusion of privacy and sending a clear message for everyone to keep out.

Well, almost everyone, he thought as he gazed down at the woman sound asleep on the floor beside his bed...

Until next time :)

*rhymes*