A/N: Don't own (although I'd love to have my very own Norman Reedus :D) don't sue!

Lyrics are from 'Rain' by Patty Griffin

Rain

Chapter Thirty Six

It's hard to listen to a hard, hard heart
Beatin' close to mine
Poundin' up against the stone and steel
Walls that I won't climb
Sometimes a hurt is so deep, deep, deep
You think that you're gonna drown
Sometimes all I can do is weep, weep, weep
With all this rain fallin' down
Strange, how hard it rains now
Rows and rows of big dark clouds
When I'm holding on underneath this shroud
Rain
It's hard to know when to give up the fight
Some things you want will just never be right
It's never rained like it has tonight before
Now, I don't wanna beg you, baby
For something maybe you could never give
I'm not lookin' for the rest of your life
I just want another chance to live
Strange, how hard it rains now
Rows and rows of big dark clouds
When I'm holdin' on underneath this shroud
Rain

"They're not back yet."

Cassidy didn't look round at Carol, focusing her rifle on each rambling walker until she could discern their features and move on. She heard Carol shifting her feet awkwardly but she didn't look at her. Carol seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time trying to be her friend, something Cassidy had absolutely no interest in. She didn't know if it was something Carol thought she was doing for Daryl or for herself and she didn't much care. Her mood had gotten blacker and blacker with every passing hour they were gone. From what she'd heard about Woodbury from Michonne, their odds of getting out alive were low to zero.

"Cassidy!"

Her heart stopped. Were they back? She turned to the opposite window to see Beth beckoning her frantically. She tucked her rifle away quickly and raced down out of the watch tower, meeting Beth in the yard.

"What's happened?"

Beth didn't reply, racing back into the prison. Cassidy followed her until she found Carl in one of the unoccupied blocks. A small group of people were locked into the prison common room arguing. She looked at Carl for an explanation, noting Hershel tending their wounds. She gestured to Carl and he crossed the hallway towards her.

"What's going on?"

She listened to Carl's explanation without comment, glancing at Hershel as he joined them.

"We should leave them until my dad gets back." Carl insisted, his face screwed up as if he expected an argument of epic proportions.

Cassidy and Hershel exchanged looks. She looked through the bars at the group huddled together, the fear and anger darkening their features. In the old days she'd have turned them out without a second of hesitation, that redneck and his gang had softened her.

"Leave them be for now." She sighed, squeezing Carl's shoulder. "It's Rick's decision."

Carl looked up at her steadily, both of them wondering the same thing. Cassidy made her way back through the prison, checking the corridors surrounding their living quarters for walkers and weaknesses. She stayed away from the group as much as she possibly could, their very presence grating on her with every passing hour he was absent. She was itching to do something, anything, other than sit here doing nothing. Waiting. It was torture. She completed her circuit and made her way to the others to scrounge some food.

She ate her lunch with a morose Lochie and convinced her that some sparring would make her feel better. It worked somewhat, it took both their minds off it for a while at least. She was on watch again when they came back. She saw the car in her scope, counted the shadows through the windows, watched them pull into the yard and waited to see who the missing shadows were.

Rick moved past Carol, his gaze sweeping over everything. It didn't look as if there'd been any trouble while they were gone. He spoke to everyone, checked in with Hershel and saw to baby Judith briefly before he went looking for her. He was putting it off and he knew that. Telling Carol about Daryl was one thing, telling Cassidy was quite another. It might have been easier to bring back the news of his death to her. She was sitting in the watch tower, her legs crossed underneath her, staring out at the road. She half cocked her head to register his arrival but didn't turn around to look at him. That made it harder somehow.

"He's alive." He stated bluntly, scrubbing his hands over his face. "His brother, Merle… was in Woodbury. It's complicated."

Cassidy turned back to the big open window.

"No, Sheriff. It isn't."

Rick stared at the back of her head for a long moment but he couldn't find the words. These days he could never find the words. He just didn't seem to have them anymore. Not even for himself.

"I'm worried about her."

"So am I."

"Cassidy's a big girl, she needs to work this out for herself."

"This is what I'm saying, she's not working it out. She's acting as if nothing has happened."

"No one can tell her how she should grieve."

"Grieve? He isn't dead, the jackass abandoned her! He left us."

She could hear them, talking about her, worrying about her, caring about her. She heard it as if it was from a distance. She had not gone off the reservation as Rick had when he lost his wife, but she was suffering. In her own way. In fact, she was pretty certain her heart was broken. It was easier to hide it, to put her mask back in place in a way it hadn't been since the farm. It was easier to abide by a strict routine of eating, sleeping, taking her watch and sparring. She spoke to no one, but then she hardly did that anyway, and she continued to sleep in their nest amongst the blankets and pillows that held their scent. She was curled there now, her early morning watch over she'd returned for a brief nap that had turned into the entire morning curled up under the blankets. She had nothing to get up for, so what was the point. She felt abandoned, as indeed she had been, and for a few brief moments when she failed to quash it down, she hated him. She hated him for abandoning her. She hated him for making her love him. And she did. She hated him for making her need him. And she did. She hated him for making her feeling this way and then taking it all away. After her watch this morning had ended, she'd crawled into the blankets that still smelt like him and she'd let the hate take over. It was so much easier to handle than the pain.

She'd tried to see it from his point of view, to think what she would have done in his position, but it had been so long since she'd had a sister she couldn't identify with it. And there was a small voice at the back of her brain, whispering that it should have been harder for him to make that choice. That deciding to leave her behind shouldn't have been so easy. She hated him for that, too. For making her doubt how he felt about her. Something she had been so sure of. Enough. She wiped her face and shrugged out of the blankets, splashing some cold water from her canteen onto her hot damp face. She forced herself to get up and pull on a clean shirt, Daryl's shirt.

When she descended the stairs, Lochie, Beth and Carol stared at her guiltily from the bottom of the stairs. She ignored them, crossing over to where Glenn, Hershel and Maggie were deep in conversation. Rick was AWOL again from what she had heard through the grapevine but she had taken little interest. She listened to them argue and waited for Glenn to set her a task. He eyed her warily as he spoke, unsure of where she stood these days and how far he could push her. She nodded grimly. Like it or not, she was in this with them.

Lochie caught up to her just as she was heading into the depths of the prison.

"Wait."

Cassidy paused. Lochie had been trying to comfort her since Daryl had left, trying to get her to express some of her grief and rage to let it all out. Cassidy had tolerated it for love of her friend but had not partaken. Lochie was peering at her, her eyes huge and liquid, her lip trembling. A fraction of the blackness filling her chest eased a little. She leaned over and pressed a brief kiss to Lochie's forehead, startling her. She was gone before Lochie even realised what had actually happened.

She was sitting on top of the chain link walkway; it had become a favourite spot of hers. No one else dared climb onto the precarious rickety roof of the walkway with nothing but rusty metal between them and the ground pretty far below. She thought she'd imagined it when she heard the first whistle. She knew that sound. It was a sound unlike any other. She jerked around, scanning the yard below. Carol and Axel had been talking by the fence but now Axel was crumpled on the ground. That whistling again. She knew exactly what it was. Screams and shouts shattered the quiet, gunshots ricocheting around and pockmarking the ground. Carol was holding Axel like a human shield, Beth and Carl were ducked behind a wall, Michonne was down by the fallen bus. Who the fuck was shooting at them?!

Cassidy scrambled along the top of the walkway like a spider, ducking down into the tunnel. A bullet bounced off the links a bare millimetre from her face and she flinched, darting back inside the prison. She needed her rifle but it was in their nest. She flew down the corridor, feet pounding the concrete as she dashed towards the front of the prison. She didn't have time to get her rifle but she had her sidearm and that would have to do. By the time she reached the front of the prison the humans were gone but there were walkers all over the yard like roaches. It was harder to be accurate without her rifle but she made it work. She was so focused on taking them out, she didn't even realise that Rick wasn't alone when he returned from his trip down insanity lane. She took down a walker shambling up behind him, the bullet so close he must have felt it go past his face and ruffle his hair. He glanced up, inscrutable blue eyes seeking hers through the dust and blood.

She stopped firing when there was nothing left, her fingers cramped around her gun she'd been holding it that tightly as she concentrated. She was breathing rapidly, her heart was racing and she knew it wasn't the yard full of walkers affecting her. She tucked her gun into the back of her waistband, the metal hot against her bare skin. Her hand was shaking. She couldn't catch her breath. She joined the others flowing back into the prison, greeting and embracing and remembering they were alive. He was there. Right there. She couldn't look at him, couldn't see him, couldn't admit that he was alive and standing two feet from her. It was too painful. She walked past him to the nearest walker and grabbed its ankles.

She was still moving out the dead when Maggie appeared. She was dragging a walker that was all skin and bone across the yard towards the pile she'd made, sweat was pouring from under her hairline, her hair was plastered to her neck and face and she was covered in dirt, sweat and blood.

"We need you."

Cassidy ignored her, yanking the walker a little harder towards her.

"You're a part of this group. Your opinion matters." Maggie snapped in frustration, her arms folded stubbornly across her chest.

Cassidy stopped. She dropped the walker's feet and they landed with an unpleasant squelch on the ground. She straightened up and pushing her sopping hair from her face.

"I don't have an opinion." She said flatly. "We go, I'll help us live on the road again like before. We stay, I'll fight to keep us alive." She glanced down at the walker at her feet. "I'm easy either way."

"I know you're angry. I don't blame you. It wasn't easy for Daryl-"

"I'm not having this conversation with you." Cassidy lifted the walker's ankles again and resumed her work.

Maggie waited for a few moments but eventually she gave up and left. The next one to try was Carol. Cassidy was just grateful that her hands were wrapped around a walker's shoulders or she might have lost her temper. Her fingers were linked, her arms under the walker's arms as she heaved it towards the pile. Carol watched in silence for a long time, not offering to help when she knew it would be no good. Eventually, when it had been added to the pile, she tossed Cassidy a bottle of water. Cassidy caught it and gulped down half of it in one swig. Carol didn't attempt to persuade her to join in the debate, and for that she was grateful.

"He asked after you."

Cassidy ignored her, draining the water bottle.

"He's looking for you."

Cassidy looked at her coldly.

"He obviously didn't look very far." She pointed out, waving an arm towards the wide open yard for emphasis.

"He cares for you." Carol tried, sounding very much as if each word was painful to get out.

"That's none of your damn business." Cassidy said icily.

"Daryl is my business. I care about him. I care about you, too." She wisely took a step back when Cassidy approached her. "He needs you, just as much as you need him. You're both just too damn stubborn to admit it."

Cassidy tossed her the empty bottle and Carol caught it by reflex.

"Thanks for the water."

Lochie was next. A good hour or two later, at least. She knew she was there for a lost cause because she knew Cassidy too well. Just as Cassidy knew that she was only there because someone had begged her to be.

"You need to talk to him." Lochie said abruptly, not wasting any time. "You're our two strongest fighters. Maggie and Glenn think we're going to war. I agree with them."

"I'm not avoiding him, Lochie. Actually, I am. I'm avoiding him so I don't punch him in his pretty face. That's not going to stop me from fighting."

Lochie opened her mouth to reply but broke off at Carl's shout. Rick came charging out of the prison and Cassidy grabbed Lochie's arm and pushed her towards the prison block. Cassidy stayed just long enough to establish that it was bloody Andrea popping in for tea before ducking inside the prison block and leaving them to it. He was sprawled on a bunk. Not in their nest where his things were still mingled with hers. A random bunk. She walked past him. She knew he wouldn't follow her. It was funny; while he was gone she had stayed in their bed but now he was back she couldn't stand the thought of being in it.

Cassidy had been for her afternoon jog when she heard a low wolf-whistle as she crossed the living quarters towards a bunk she planned to use. She came to an abrupt halt, for one wild moment thinking it was Daryl. It was his brother. She hadn't met Merle yet, had barely glanced at him to be honest. She climbed the metal stairs and circled the landing to stand outside his cell. He looked her up and down, his mouth widening as he leered at her.

"So you're it, huh." He chuckled, licking his pale lips. "You're what my baby brother just couldn't stand to leave behind."

Cassidy lifted her chin. She hadn't spoken to Daryl yet, everything was still up in the air. Merle licked his lips.

"You're it. The brother he left me for." Cassidy lifted her eyebrows and took him in from head to toe.

"Me? Not us?"

She ignored that. Merle snorted with laughter, eyeing her appreciatively. Her cut off jogging pants and vest left very little to the imagination, sticking to her muscled back and toned stomach with sweat. Merle leaned towards her through the bars, his remaining hand a few inches from her stomach.

"I think that's my vest, sugartits."

Cassidy threw her head back and laughed, genuinely amused at the cocky look on his face.

"I think it's mine now, sugardick."

Merle laughed and leaned away from her, eyeing her consideringly.

"Damn, sweetness." Merle winked at her. "I just might keep you for myself."

Cassidy pushed away from the railing she'd been leaning against, wrapping her hands around the bars of his cell as he pushed against her through the metal.

"Sweetheart, I'm spoken for."

Merle cocked an eyebrow, glancing down at the way her breasts were pressed together against the bars.

"But if the day comes when he can't keep up with me, I'll let you know."

Merle sniggered, sticking his hand through the bars and firmly grasping her buttock. Cassidy contemplated breaking his arm.

"I hope that's a promise… sugartits."

He let go of her and she stepped away from the cell.

"For someone who's spoken for, ya'll don't seem to be doing a lot of speaking." He called after her, his voice echoing around the space. "Or anything else, for that matter."

Cassidy hesitated on the landing, fighting the urge to look back over her shoulder.