For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Previously, on the Walking Dead—Carol can't sleep, so Daryl suggests she keep him company.

Déjà Vu

Carol had stayed up nearly all night, which made the next morning absolutely miserable. While she didn't verbalize her exhaustion, it was clear from the dark circles under her eyes that she was barely holding onto her daily consciousness. She did everything she could to stay awake, to help Lori prepare some meager breakfast, and Maggie with sorting what was left of the supplies they'd found along the way.

It wasn't much.

The farmhouse had provided a sense of normalcy as well as vast amenities: a kitchen with a stocked pantry, a place to wash clothes and hang them to try, chores to keep busy. It had reminded Carol of her childhood. She'd grown up poor but hadn't realized it until she was older. While her neighbors might've had a microwave, her mother had always cooked over a stove. The shortcuts that others had grown accustomed to weren't things she'd been able to enjoy until much later.

But without the pantry, the washbasins, and the other tasks to be accomplished for the upkeep of the house, they were scrambling, scraping materials together for survival.

After a week on the road, what few clean clothes had been brought along or found along the way were nearly gone. Carol yawned as she stuffed selections from everyone's wardrobes into a backpack. In the hopes of staying awake, she'd offered to go with Daryl to find some kind of water source for laundry, even if it was just a couple gallons in the trunk of someone's car along the road.

Daryl shouldered his gear, including his arrows and crossbow, to be ready for a hike. While they hunted for water, he could also hunt for something to eat later. There was only so much salvaged crap he could stomach.

As they started to wander away from the campsite, directly south, he glanced at her. While he wanted to ask if she was sure she wanted to do this after her long night, he had a feeling he knew her answer already.

Sensing his eyes on her, she glanced at him. As soon as he saw her looking, he returned his attention to their path ahead. "What?"

"Nothin'," he answered simply.

"Daryl…?"

He shook his head. "I think there was water back where we camped the first few nights."

"We shoulda washed up when we had the chance."

He wanted to add that they should've stuck to the water's edge. While it wouldn't have offered exact protection on one side from walkers, the splashing would've been a dead giveaway. "Shoulda," he agreed. "Instead, you get to walk out here with me, half asleep…"

"It's not like anybody rests much anyhow," she said. Part of her going was completely selfish. She wanted to wear herself out so that, when they returned to camp, she would definitely find herself in a deep, hopefully dream-filled sleep.

"Just keep in mind, you fall asleep, I ain't carryin' you back."

She smiled. "I ain't askin' you to."

He offered a slight nod.

They walked in companionable silence for a long time, with Daryl occasionally stopping to aim his crossbow at some moving something, whether it was a branch in the wind, a squirrel, or something he thought he saw. He was a little surprised she wasn't talking, to help keep herself awake. When he would occasionally glance back at her, she was still there, trailing along silently.

He might be able to get used to that kind of company on a hunt.

While she could've easily asked what he felt about the shift in Rick's leadership, or about the unspoken concern that flitted between the party members through knowing glances, she didn't. It was nice to avoid the inevitable. There would be discussions, at some point, about the new directions the group was taking, but they didn't have to have them at that moment. The crisp air was pleasant to walk through. Some of the trees were beginning to change color, offering vibrant, beautiful scenery. It was peaceful.

Daryl stopped suddenly, and Carol nearly walked into him. He leveled his crossbow, taking careful aim. Before she even had a chance to figure out what he was firing at, the arrow sailed smoothly through the air, landing solidly in his target, a brown rabbit. "Good eats tonight," he said with a satisfied nod.

She smiled a little, following him further through the woods to his kill. As he saw to removing the bolt and securing the creature for easy carrying, she wandered further ahead, never far from him and always within sight. It wasn't long until the woods dissipated and a clearing opened up.

The field was wide and lush, even as autumn descended upon them. The green coloring was rich and oddly familiar to Carol. The wild grasses were tall and soft as she ran her hand through them. She felt a sharp pang in her heart and she had to struggle against an overwhelming sense of loss, one she couldn't place. It was only grass, only a field… only a rabbit that Daryl had killed.

Frowning deeply, she tried to figure out why her emotions were getting the better of her. Sleep deprivation, perhaps. Atop the grass she was about to touch, a brown-and-black woolly worm inched across. Her stomach seemed to flip flop as she slowly knelt in front of it. She felt cold, not from the autumn breeze but from the realization that she had seen this all before.

Daryl took one look at it and declared: "Won't be as bad a winter as we think."

She blinked, utterly confused. "Sorry?"

He reached out, allowing the caterpillar to crawl into his hand. "Black is rough weeks of winter. There's plenty of brown in here. Won't be bad." When he looked back at Carol, she seemed paler than usual, making the dark circles under her eyes even more prevalent. Her skin looked clammy. His eyes narrowed in concern.

She forced herself to stand, to look out over the clearing. She'd seen it only a week ago, in spring-like hues. "Oh my God," she murmured.

"What?"

"This is Sophia's Meadow…"

Stay tuned…