A/N: Ok, the events of this chapter were going to be spread out a bit more, but I decided to rush things along to get to more Caryl stuff. Hope you like it! Reviews, please!

Dinner was full of arguments and stress. Everyone was happy to see Andrea and eager to see her get well. Rick and Daryl insisted that Michonne should be sent on her way, but Andrea fought to keep her with the group. Everyone else thought she should be given a chance but they were naturally uncomfortable with the presence of the two walkers. Carl and Beth were so unsettled by them that Lori took them upstairs to get away from them. Finally, Rick struck a deal. "If you want to stay with Andrea - if she's that important to you and you want to be a part of this group – then these walkers have to go. I won't have them around my family." Carol thought that by family, Rick meant all of them, not just Carl and Lori, and she appreciated his taking a stand for them.

Michonne looked long and hard at Andrea, making up her mind. Then she gave a nod, pulled out her sword, and lopped off both walkers' heads in one stroke. Everyone gasped. "Well, that was easy," Glenn said, "but couldn't you have done it outside?"

It was decided that Michonne and Andrea would remain in the room they'd just set up camp in that day, and Maggie and Carol would take the other bedroom. The houses in this neighborhood were rather small, so that left the couch and the floor for Glenn and Daryl, who would alternate on watch all night. The next morning, they would do a run to see if they could locate some medicine for Andrea. Hershel had determined that she had a bad case of the flu along with a throat infection, but she would survive.

Carol was disappointed that there was no way for her to sleep in the same room with Daryl, but she was happy that he would be on watch, keeping them all safe. She wasn't entirely sure she trusted Michonne, but she believed Andrea was a good judge of character, and that went a long way. Daryl headed back to their house first, shaking his head, clearly unhappy with the decision to keep Michonne but unwilling to fight it. Carol stayed behind for a moment to check on Lori and Carl. As she was coming back down the stairs she overheard a heated conversation between Andrea and Rick.

"No," Rick was saying. "I don't want you to tell him that. Not now."

"He has a right to know, Rick."

"Daryl has come a long way and he's an asset to this group," Rick said. "If you tell him you spotted Merle five miles from here, he'll go off the rails. He'll leave, you know he will. He'll set right out to look for him, and Merle is dangerous. You know that."
"It's Daryl's right to make that decision," Andrea responded.

"Well, that may be, but give me some time to think about this," Rick pleaded. "Give me a few days, at least. Let us check things out here, see if we can settle for a while. We need Daryl right now, some of us more than others."

Carol imagined Rick was probably talking about her. What did he and the others think was going on between her and Daryl? Was it that obvious how she felt about him? She couldn't help feeling embarrassed. She didn't want to be the pathetic clingy woman, holding onto Daryl when her feelings weren't reciprocated at all. Was that how it looked to everyone? She waited a few minutes so Rick and Andrea wouldn't know she heard them, then headed down the stairs and back with Maggie and Glenn to the other house.

All night, lying next to Maggie and trying to fall asleep, Carol thought about the information they were keeping from Daryl. His brother, only five miles away? How could that even be possible? Everyone assumed he was dead, but anything was possible. They'd run into Andrea, after all, and what were the chances of that? Maybe in this new world there were just some people who were meant to face the struggles of survival together, and maybe Merle, as odious a fellow as he might be, was supposed to be part of that. Daryl certainly did have a right to know he might still be alive.

When the morning light streamed into the window and Carol had barely known a moment's rest, she rose and went to the living room to find Daryl. He was sitting in the floor by the window, looking into the distance.

"Hey," he acknowledged her.

"Hey. I – I have to tell you something," she said. She didn't see any point in waiting. "They're not telling you but I think you have a right to know."

"Well, spit it out," he said.

"It's about Merle," she said, and Daryl looked up quickly. "Andrea spotted him somewhere five miles away, or she thinks she did. I overheard them talking about it and I thought you should know. I don't know if—"

Before Carol finished talking, Daryl jumped up and ran to where Andrea slept. Carol listened to him yelling at her for a bit, then retreated back to the other bedroom to wait it out. She imagined he would yell at Rick next. And after that, she didn't know what would happen. She knew it was a risk, telling him. He would go after Merle, certainly, and that might mean losing him. But she couldn't keep the information from him. She knew that no matter how much she disliked Merle, he was Daryl's family and he had a right to attempt a reconciliation.

She heard the front door slam. After a while, she headed over to the house next door to see what had transpired.

"Carol, how could you do this?" Rick said as soon as she walked in. "Daryl's gone."

She couldn't help it. She collapsed onto the floor and sobbed.

The next two and a half weeks passed unbearably slowly. Carol cried herself to sleep every night next to Maggie, who kindly held her and said nothing. Michonne took over Daryl's watch, and the group started to trust her more every day. She proved herself to be quite an asset any time a stray walker came by. Their days were spent settling in, exploring the surrounding area, and making the occasional trip to the shopping mall. Andrea was feeling much better now, and she Maggie had taken Carol along on one mall run and tried to cheer her up by "shopping" for new clothes. She couldn't bring herself to care about clothes or anything else as long as she believed she would never see Daryl again. Life was so full of despair anyway, but now that small source of joy, the excitement she was starting to feel, was utterly gone. She prayed every night that Daryl was still alive, that he was safe and that he would return, with Merle or without, but she knew the chances were slim.

When he did return, walking into the house as if he'd never left, what should have been relief turned instead to anger.

Carol was lying in the bedroom she shared with Maggie, trying to get over a headache that was probably the result of too many tears. Daryl appeared in the doorway and at first she thought she was simply imagining him. He stood there staring at the ground, clearly unsure of what he should say. He looked tired, miserable. She stood up and walked over to him. She wanted to put her arms around him, but she was so angry. How could he have put her through this?

"How, Daryl? How could you just disappear like that?" Carol whispered, trying to hold back tears.

Daryl blew out air and shook his head. "I had to see if he was there—"

"But…but you stayed away so long…"

"Carol, he was my brother," he said, finally looking into her eyes.

"But I'm … we're your—"

"My what?" Daryl raised his voice now, glaring at her. "You're my what?" He charged toward her and she backed away slightly.

"What the fuck do you want from me, Carol?" he shouted. She flinched and pulled away farther. Her fear seemed to make him even angrier. He growled as he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her against the wall. She could feel that he was restraining a little, however, and though she was scared, she knew he wouldn't really hurt her. She was more afraid of what she was feeling.

He pressed his hips against her to pin her into place and bent to rest his forehead against hers. "Tell me," he whispered. It sounded like he was begging. She felt his hot breath against her mouth. His hand left her shoulder and slipped her tank up above her right breast. He cupped it with the heel of his hand and moved his thumb over her nipple. "Is this what you want from me?"

He thrust his hips against her, allowing her to feel his erection straining against their clothes. "Is this it?"

His mouth was so close to hers. A tear slid down her cheek. She closed her eyes and waited for his lips to meet hers. Yes, she wanted to say. I want this. This and more. Everything. All of you.

She braced herself for the kiss she'd dreamt of for so long, but instead he suddenly pulled himself away. "Fuck," he muttered, then turned and left, shaking his head. She was left raw, exposed, aching for him.