Author's note: So... I had this idea for some angst while I was trying (and failing) to get some sleep last night, and I honestly just... I deserve a punch in the face for it. I'm so sorry. I had to do it. It's not until right near the end, and I debated with myself over actually putting it in the chapter, but I couldn't let the idea go, and so here it is. I'd say enjoy, but there's really nothing to be happy about. I'm sorry.

Daryl's expression, when he showed up, was one of careful, contemplative concern. The kind of concern that was so quietly expressed that it wasn't guaranteed to actually be there, and could only just about become apparent to those closest to him. Cassia, fortunately, was one of these people - otherwise, she may not have realised he was worried at all. Daryl took up the seat Beth had not long ago left empty, and crossed his arms over his chest. He was grimy, dirty and very, very sweaty. Cassia was used to seeing him dirty, sure, but this wasn't your average kind of grime. His still laboured breaths indicated some sort of extreme exertion. When asked about this, he muttered something about digging a grave, and everything went very quiet, for a bit, after that. Cassia didn't know exactly what she needed to say to him. She could tell he was unhappy about what had happened the night before, but she couldn't figure out what it was she needed to do to bring him back to his usual, lesser state of loyal... apathy. She could only tell he was bothered about the whole thing because he gave these very fleeting, yet annoyed glances in her direction between small talk, when he thought she wasn't looking.

She was always looking. There was nothing else for her to look at.

There was no need for her to apologise, surely? Daryl had hated Ross, and with a passion, too. So there was no way he was in mourning. Perhaps... perhaps she should make amends for endangering their child? But that hadn't been her fault at all - if there had been any way around it she would have gone for the option that kept the baby safe. Cassia had almost managed to, as well. Actually...

Cassia glanced down with a certain and sudden amount of trepidation behind the action. Was the baby okay? She placed a tentative hand over the bump, she let it hover inches away from it for a second before carefully - very carefully - lowering her palm down to soothe over the bump. How could she tell, at this point? The baby wasn't old enough to kick. It would be soon, but it wouldn't kick just yet. Beth had said she'd protected her baby. Kept her baby safe. Maybe Hershel had been in to give his official opinion on the subject.

Cassia sighed and started to fidget around with the duvet she was half under, reluctant to ask Daryl what she wanted to know,

"Is the baby okay? Do you know?" Daryl ducked his head in a half nod, a motion that was only just a confirmation, his gaze fixed on the world outside the window,

"Yeah. Baby's fine," he glanced back to Cassia, who looked as if she were about to ask more, but cut across and answered her question before she'd even spoken it, "Doc said so."

Cassia let out a sigh of relief, and nodded, licking her lips. They'd been so dry. How had she not noticed until then? A glance to the bedside table to the left of her revealed a tall glass of water. Cassia reached for it but was, once again, cut off by Daryl - only physically this time, as his hand got to the glass before hers did, as he was closer, and the water was handed to her. She thanked him and then promptly drank the entire glass of water, with a quiet "ahh".

"Cassie..." Daryl began, staring stubbornly down at his hands, brow slightly furrowed, "your ankle's fucked," he told her, accent brutalising the swear word. Cassia then tried to move said ankle, roll it, even, and hissed in pain. Daryl shrugged, "Told ya," was all he had to say on the subject. The two of them lapsed back into silence, and Cassia troubled herself further over whatever it was that could be bothering Daryl. In the end... she did the obvious thing and asked him about it,

"You mad at me?" She asked quietly,

"Depends," he spoke to her but didn't look at her, examining a broken bolt head he'd brought out from his pocket a moment ago, "d'you set 'im free?"

Cassia gaped at him, eyes widening in wordless fury. Daryl peeked a glance at her, and with a satisfied little snort, ducked his head in slow concession, "Then nah, I ain't mad at you."

"Do you..." Cassia licked her lips again, eyes still too wide, "do you know where he got the gun?"

"Dale fell asleep on the job," Daryl explained, "bastard stole it right from under 'im."

"He was gonna kill me, Daryl." She whispered, staring at the lower half of the door - admittedly picturing it as the one she'd fainted against the night before. Daryl leaned forward a bit in his chair and did the most unexpected thing. He placed his hand on top of hers. She blinked down at it, not fully able to comprehend it's being there.

"An' who's dead now?" He asked, and Cassia felt her lips part, her eyes widen even further. She honestly had no response to that, but she also knew he was right. In his own way, she supposed he was trying to get her to stop underestimating herself, as she always did. Perhaps he was even trying to communicate to her how strong she was.

But he was Daryl Dixon, and so of course it couldn't go as deep as that.

Daryl stayed while Hershel came in to examine her, and once the veterinarian had declared Cassia was fit to leave the room, Cassia and Daryl ventured outside together. She limped, at first, but found it wasn't as bad as Daryl had made it out to be, and didn't have to persist with such an exaggerated motion. She took limited steps with that particular foot, instead.

She was instantly crushed in a hug that somehow managed to be both debilitating and gentle, the other person was very conscious of her bump, when they tackled her. After the initial shock passed, Cassia brought her arms up to return the gesture, patting the other person's back in an odd kind of numb state. Pulling back from said hug revealed Andrea, of all people. She was saying something, as well, but Cassia was still not over the fact that Andrea had hugged her for the second time in two consecutive days. Voluntarily. Hadn't she tried to murder the woman, yesterday? Had it even been yesterday? Cassia didn't even know anymore. She made the effort to pay attention to whatever it was Andrea was saying,

"... one tough bitch, and I-" Andrea had a hand on each of Cassia's shoulders now, anchoring her to the spot, "I respect you, in some fucked up way - even if you did try to kill me."

Cassia grimaced and angled her head awkwardly, "I, uh... I wasn't gonna kill you..." she amended quietly, "people do the shittiest thing when they're upset," Cassia added a slightly cheeky grin onto the end of that, and not only did Andrea blink in response, but she tipped her head up towards the sky and laughed.

The fuck was going on?

"I suppose they do," Andrea agreed, and patted Cassia's arm. The smallest bit of the weight Cassia had been hauling around on her chest lifted, and she rubbed at the back of her neck, making sure to keep her injured foot down with next to no weight on it.

Cassia was, in the next few hours, approached by each member of the group and received some form of praise or consolation. Shane outright just shook her hand, whereas Rick hugged her, and the rest pretty much just went ahead with whatever suited the manner of their relationship. Those she was closer to went straight in with the hug and the little talk about how sorry or proud they were, and those who'd always been more distant shook her hand or told her they admired her strength. Carl asked for a detailed account of the fight, clearly recovering well from his injury, but Lori quickly shushed him and made him go stand by her. Cassia was grateful for that. She wasn't sure she'd have been able to speak past the lump in her throat or the sudden vice in her chest.

Daryl remained silent and pensive the entire time. Carol informed her later that he'd been borderline murderous when he'd found out, and hadn't left Cassia's side until Beth had forced him to go elsewhere. Also according to Carol, he'd been telling the truth about the grave, and when Cassia went to inspect the area, there was a half dug grave next to Otis' resting place.

Did Ross deserve a grave? - once again, there went her inner monologue, voicing the things she would (hopefully) never say out loud. Even still, she frowned at herself and shook her head, a rigid motion; one she hadn't been aware of. No, everyone deserves a grave. Ross had a family, he had a little sister who was the definition of an angel, and he had a father and a mother and a stepfather-

He had, anyway, before The Outbreak.

Cassia had to admit that eased her guilt a little.

Heartless, the voice snapped at her.

Psychotic, it hissed.

Cassia smacked herself up the side of her head the way everyone used to hit Joey in Friends. She was stronger than that. There wasn't time or space or need to criticise and judge herself, to beat herself up over the things she'd already done and was still yet to do. The dead were walking. Merle had certainly never felt sorry for allowing someone as truly good and valuable as Valerie to be pulled apart and chewed on by walkers, so why should she hate herself over murdering a man who had abused and brought her misery for years? Who had, in his final moments, been trying to kill her and her unborn child? Why? Why, why why?

Because you're not Merle, are you?

The truth was that she'd never felt so wretched in her life. Cassia Dunlain had never felt so unlike herself. She'd never loathed the sight of herself in the mirror before. Cassia sighed, drooping to lean against a tree, eyes trained gloomily on the unfinished grave in front of her. She'd never face punishment for the crime she'd committed. Not unless Ross' group, if they'd ever even existed, decided to come looking for him.

They did have a funeral for Ross, in the end, though nobody said anything in his memory. There were no roses or dedications, no prayers or well wishes for his journey in the after life. Those that had chosen to show up merely stood around staring at the earth under which Ross lay, and nobody said a word. Cassia and Daryl were the last ones left standing, and even they departed, after a while. Cassia suspected that it had been a funeral that had been held for the sake of human tradition. For humanity and sanity and civility and to remind themselves the difference between killing walkers and killing actual human beings. The lines couldn't afford to be blurred when it came to that. A sentiment Cassia agreed with, but didn't say anything about.

Night fell and Daryl escorted Cassia back to her new room in the house, even lingering to help her double check the room.

"I'm gon' be pissed if y'kill anyone tonight," he informed her as he locked the window, "I ain't digging up another damn hole so soon."

"No more killing for a while, I think," she assured him, "I'm going to channel the energy into becoming a top tier scientist. I'm gonna find the damn cure and I'm gonna bring an end to all this shit." She joked, straightening out the duvet before sliding under it. Truth be told, her laughter was shaking, not entirely convinced that she was okay with what she'd done. If Daryl noticed her slightly haunted look, he didn't mention it. Daryl smirked at her weak attempt at a joke, and now seemingly satisfied that the room was safe, strolled over to the door.

He paused right by the bed and shot her a hard look,

"I ain't kiddin'. Keep the kid safe." And with that, he turned and left.

Cassia didn't sleep well, that night. It was fair to have assumed she wouldn't have - she spent the entirety of it going through some sort of motionless torment, her subconscious reminding her not to toss or turn or roll over. She dreamed of a forest, at first - all alone, she stood before at least twelve different pathways. Each one she endeavoured to go down, however, always brought her to yet another path, and as she was unsure about going any further forwards before having explored all options, her dream self trekked back and tried each path before, eventually, she reached the last. There was no secondary path at the end of it, and when she turned to look behind her, the path she'd walked down had disappeared. The anxiety that filled her was a distant, dream kind, so she never really registered it, but it didn't matter, anyway, as it was promptly replaced a more distinct sense of fear. She was surrounded by cradles on all sides, the forest had closed in and a number of different lullabies started play all at the same time, only very slowly. A shiver ran down her spine, and Cassia tried her best to cover her ears, but then it seemed that the music was playing in her ears. A voice sounded from across from her and she snapped her head up towards it. Ross. Of course it was Ross. She tried to make out what he was saying but he seemed to be speaking... backwards? Dream Cassia took a few, stupid steps towards him, and a smile graced his lips - he still spoke in that strange backwards language, but he was looking at her more intently now, as if he was waiting for her to initiate something. Cassia opened her mouth to say something, anything - to apologise for what she'd done, but a slow trail of crimson trickled down from his forehead and disappeared below the ridge of his jaw, just as it had when she'd stabbed him. The same wound was there, too, in the centre of his temple.

Cassia woke up in a panic, and didn't sleep for another three hours. All in all, she didn't sleep much.

Four hours sleep was not good for a pregnant woman. Especially one who had very limited access to food and the luxuries she would have turned to if she were not in the middle of a bloody apocalypse. Daryl must have sensed her brooding from a mile away, as he steered clear of her all morning, choosing instead to go back into the woods to search for Sophia. Cassia wanted to protest against it, as he had not long ago been shot, but... she couldn't quite bring herself to speak up, not after seeing how grateful and hopeful Carol was for it. She sighed and watched him go, a crease in her brow, and then wandered off to go and help out with the washing.

It didn't take Glenn long to approach her,

"Look, Cassie, the knot-" he began, but she simply smiled and ended the apology before it had begun, with a single dismissive gesture,

"Not your fault, Glenn. He always fancied himself as some kind of an escapist..." Glenn folded his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes,

"Can that guy be any more of an asshole?"

"Well, no... considering he's dead..."

"... Oh, right. Damn... you're right. He is dead."

There was a brief, awkward silence between them.

"Glenn, really... don't blame yourself. He was borderline insane."

Glenn ducked his head in concession, and then turned and wandered back over to Dale.

Daryl eventually decided he could risk talking to her, and approached her with the news that he'd found Sophia's doll when he'd been out looking for her the same day he'd gotten shot by Andrea. There hadn't been enough free time between tragedies for him to tell her, so that was reportedly why the news had taken so long to reach her. Shane and Andrea had actually gone out to scout the area further, it seemed. Cassia arched her eyebrows at that - even without a a good idea of what the time was or how much of it was passing, it was still pretty easy to tell that they'd been gone a lot longer than they necessarily should have been. She wasn't sure if she should be worried about them or not - obviously it was Shane they were talking about, and he would probably be about the safest (apart from Daryl) among the group to take on a run with you, but she wasn't so confident in Andrea's ability. Sure, she'd shot Daryl with a sniper rifle, but the point was that she'd missed the mark. Only time could tell, she supposed, though who knew how much more of it stood between then and the time they'd actually... (possibly) return.

They still weren't back by the time Maggie and Glenn set off on another run. It always seemed to be just the two of them going out on these runs, Cassia noticed. In truth, Cassia noticed a lot of things about the two of them. It wasn't her business to mention any of it, though, so she kept it just as hush-hush as they did. The rest of the day passed on pretty smoothly after that, well - as smoothly as a day in the life of a group of apocalypse survivors could go, that is. Lori was doing more than her regular amount of pacing and fretting, but Cassia didn't concern herself too much with that as Carl had begun learning how to use a gun that same day, so that was probably all it came down to.

Even if it wasn't, Cassia doubted she had the energy or capacity to deal with anything else so soon after she'd been forced to murder her ex-boyfriend.

She reckoned that was fair enough.

And so she got on with meaningless, everyday chores.

She carried determinedly on with these same chores right up until the moment Shane and Andrea returned. Her mind had still been stuck on the topic of Glenn and Maggie, so when she looked up to regard the two of them, she was already in the mindset for seeing connections where others didn't. This was why she had the misfortune to spot the coy, smug little self satisfied look shared between Shane and Andrea. Ew. No way. The connotations were clear, right there and ready to be mulled over, and when Cassia took the time to do so; their tardiness made a lot of sense. She knew she wasn't really the right person to be passing judgement about two people getting together in a more than intimate sense, but it just seemed a little... thoughtless to indulge in something like that when they were supposed to be out looking for Sophia. Especially after Daryl had nearly died finding Sophia's doll. So, no, Cassia couldn't really pass judgement without sounding like a hypocrite but the timing and the context was just... bad. She sincerely hoped Carol never found out about it. Once again, it was none of her business, and so she sighed and went back to reloading the weapons. Maggie and Glenn had found their way back a short while before Shane and Andrea did, and headed straight for Lori.

Honestly, Cassia didn't have a lot to say about what happened after that as she was trying so hard to keep to herself. She didn't want to get involved with anyone else's drama so soon after what she'd been through with Ross.

She tried so hard to stick to her guns and even came very close to remaining in her own semi-peaceful little bubble, but even she simply couldn't ignore the expression on Lori's face when she parted from Rick. She made to go and move towards the woman, but Lori spotted her and waved her off, the smallest of smiles sent her way before she turned and made a beeline right for the tent she shared with Rick and Carl. Cassia faltered and let out a helpless breath. It surely wasn't her fault if her help was refused when she offered it, right?

It didn't matter. She needed to stretch her legs, anyhow. Cassia set off the way Rick and Lori had came from, soon finding herself by the fence Hershel had been making amends to just that morning. She closed her eyes and clasped her hands behind her back, tipping her face up towards the sun in an effort to soak in some of it in. If the world was ending, she might as well get herself a nice tan, right? Everything was peaceful for just that little portion of time, and she was reminded, somewhat, of the shower she'd had back at the CDC. When it had been just her, the bump, and the warm, steady stream water. Honestly, she wished she could spend the rest of her days like that. No walkers, no petty drama or prejudices, no need to watch your back all hours or wonder who in your group would be the next to go. She'd get all pruney, though, and she could never stand that. Cassia took another step towards the fence, trying to discern whether the figure amongst the trees was more likely to be a walker or an animal, when her foot came down on something with a distinct, plasticky sort of crunch. She frowned down at the ground, lifting her foot up to squint down at the small package she'd almost crushed. Something about it was undeniably familiar, and when she finally took the initiative to scoop it up in order to read the logo printed on the foil, she realised exactly why.

Morning-after pills. Holy shit.

The timing of what happened next had to have been the most unfortunate thing Cassia had ever experienced.

"Sup?" Came Daryl's monotonous voice from behind her, his signature bored tone. She froze and slowly turned to look at him, still slightly caught in that post discovery state of shock. His carefully disinterested look promptly became mildly interested and he cocked his head at her. When she didn't answer him, he took a step closer and noticed, for what seemed to be the first time, that she was holding something that glinted when the sun hit it in her left hand. He frowned down at that, too, and guided her hand closer to him so that he could read the logo.

Wait-

Too late. The unfortunate assumption was written all over his face. He was mad. Madder than she reckoned she'd ever seen him, and she'd been around for some of the things Merle had said to him that had been so bad that Daryl had gone to get his crossbow. This was another level of fury. He snatched the packet from her grasp, and shook it at her accusingly, taking a treacherous step towards her,

"What the fuck is this?" He demanded, his face turning a rather ugly shade of red. Cassia could only stare at him in horrified bewilderment. All she had in her defense was that it wasn't hers. She'd only found the damn thing, she hadn't seen who'd actually used it. And someone clearly had, seeing as there were definitely pills missing. Oh, lord. Daryl was hard to reason with when he was properly mad, and that wasn't even something she knew from experience; that was something she'd had to observe.

"I don't... I-" Cassia choked, gesturing vaguely. How was she supposed to explain why she'd been holding it?!

"You don't get t' make fucked up decisions like this on your own!" He yelled at her, getting all up in her face about it, "I can't- you just... you murdered a baby! You are the worst kind o' fucked up, I'm tellin' ya."

"It's not mine, Daryl!" She yelled back, furious that he'd thought her capable of such a thing, "You were the one who said I could never do something like that, remember?!"

Daryl wasn't listening. He was attempting some sort of manic pacing right infront of her, dragging a hand down his face every other step. If she focused on him for long enough, it almost looked like he was crying.

"Why would you-" he began, his voice a lot louder than it usually was. He didn't seem to care about attracting walkers, he was just too upset, "You fucking saved it just yesterday, 'n now y'finished the job off yourself, huh?!" His fury climbed even higher, somehow, shouting over her and drowning her out. Daryl threw his arms out either side of him, pure outrage pushing him to do so. Cassia tried to intercept again, but he moved towards her, face inches away from hers and roared his next accusation, pointing a red, shaky finger right at her, "You're worse than all'a this. You're a monster."

"They're mine, Daryl," Lori confessed suddenly, from the spot to Cassia's right. They both turned towards her in shock, having forgotten that anyone else existed beyond the two of them. Their chests were heaving and their hands were shaking, but the clearest indicator of their fight was their faces. Multitudes of emotions and colours coincided there on each of them. Lori's head was partially hung, her eyes flitting between them both. She sighed, her entire upper body moving with the action - rising up, and then settling down. Her tone was coloured with shame when she explained, "I took the pills. I'm pregnant. I... I threw 'em up, though, so no harm done."

With that, she turned and strode solemnly back to camp, arms curled around herself like she was trying to comfort herself with the hug nobody else would give her.

Daryl didn't apologise - didn't say anything, in fact. He took his time to actually look at her, and when he finally did, he looked...

Well, she didn't quite know how to describe the way Daryl had looked. He couldn't look at her for long, either, and turned suddenly, kicking at the fence in a sharp, violent motion. He uttered a harsh swear word and ran a hand through his hair. He stalked off, and Cassia was left there trembling.

All she'd wanted was to stretch her legs.