A/N: I know…very short chapter. But it's been a while since I've updated and I really wasn't too sure on how I wanted to tackle this next part. Bear with me.


Carl heard one of the doors to the prison slam shut, alerting his attention down to it. He immediately spotted his dad and it looked like he was heading his way. There was no way Carl could make a run for it. By the time he'd reach the bottom of the stairs, he'd end up face to face with his father. He looked back out to the tree line and decided to ignore him for the time being all while working some thoughts through his head.

A couple minutes later and the door opened behind him. Carl turned ever so slightly to look back at him, to give him that little bit of acknowledgement, and turned back to the trees. His dad was pissed.

Carl could hear Rick shuffling around behind him, pacing. Then a heavy sigh. He wasn't speaking and the silence was starting to eat away at Carl more than any amount of arguing would. So he turned to face his dad while leaning against the railing, his arms folded in front of his chest. "What?"

Rick opened his mouth but shut it soon after like a fish out of water. He tried again before words came out. "What exactly happened in there with Daryl?"

"Nothing. I went to see how he was doing."

"I have a few others who are saying otherwise." Rick placed his hands on his hips, his right hand resting just above the holstered Python making the gun very visible to Carl. "You want to explain that?"

Carl shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about." Carl worked through his ideas and decided it best to play it off like he never even thought about killing Daryl. It was the only way to save his skin. If anyone knew, they'd have him locked up like some kind of prisoner.

Rick turned his head away and inhaled sharply as if to bite back any words that threatened to escape. Carl could tell he was struggling to keep his composure and he wasn't sure whether he really wanted to push him or not. His dad was already on the edge of sanity and he needed to back down from his so-called leadership before he got someone else killed.

"Were you or were you not going to try and smother Daryl?"

"Why would I kill Daryl?" Carl narrowed his eyes, half tilting his head to the side.

Rick took a couple steps forward to close the gap between them and thrust a finger into Carl's chest. "Don't stand there and play coy with me. Carol and Maggie would not make these accusations up on a whim."

Carl remained silent as he glared back at his father. He pushed his hand away and huffed.

"What did Daryl do to deserve this? What did I do?" Rick stepped back and ran a hand through his unruly hair.

"You just believe them? You really think I'd do it?" Carl challenged.

Rick stared back at him with a hardened expression. He seemed to be studying him, almost like he was trying to read Carl's mind. And he was silent for a couple minutes before he finally replied: "I want to believe it. I want to believe you wouldn't do something like that…But they wouldn't lie about this."

"That's bullshit!" Carl exclaimed. He jabbed a finger towards the prison, "You'll believe them over your own son? Why would I kill Daryl? He's one of the only chances we have at surviving. Did you ever think that maybe everyone's just been filling your head with a bunch of shit?"

"What do you want from me!" Rick raised his voice. "I screwed up! But I'm not about to let you just turn like that. Have you forgotten who we are? What side you're fighting for?"

"I haven't forgotten a damn thing," Carl retorted.

Rick was fuming, his hands back on his hips and pacing again. "What do you want? I'm sorry. That it?"

"Did you come up here to yell at me or did you come up here to try and make yourself feel better?"

"…I don't think you need to be on watch," Rick muttered under his breath.

"I'm not going back down there. I know what you want to do." Carl eyed him. He could tell Rick was slipping more and more by the minute. "I'm not after anyone in the prison. I'm not after Daryl."

Rick vaguely nodded. He took a step forward and reached out for Carl but froze shortly after.

Carl had pulled the Browning BDA from the holster on his leg and had it pointed at his father's chest. The very gun he had stolen from Daryl all those months ago. The gun he had put Shane down with.

The gun he shot his own mother with.


And did I mention I love cliffhangers? I didn't? Oops…