AN: Just a little something for the morning. I've got lots of grading to do around here, but I might try to get something out later.

As always, I thank you all for your comments and reviews. I'm glad to see everyone is invested enough in the story to have some personal opinions on all that is taking place!

I hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think!

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Carol sat perched on the bathroom counter while Andrea did her make up. She was going to the Wagon Wheel…a steakhouse in the next town…with Axel and she was already running behind.

"So second date…" Carol said, "Pretty exciting."

Andrea paused in putting on her mascara and looked at Carol.

"I feel bad leaving you alone here. Are you sure you don't want to go?" Andrea asked.

Carol chuckled.

"Last time I checked it wasn't very nice to bring someone on a date with you. Besides, I'm fine. You can't drag me around with you like an annoying sister to everything," Carol said.

It had been four days since Daryl had left and Carol felt like Michonne asked every ten minutes if she was OK at work and Andrea took over duty whenever they were both home. She hadn't been alone enough during the day to not be OK.

Carol didn't really know how to answer the question anyway. She wasn't sure how she felt about the whole thing. She missed Daryl…she missed having him around. She missed his antics. She didn't miss the Daryl that had been annoyed with her about the whole marriage thing, but she missed the Daryl that was around before that.

She wasn't going to push him, though. If he needed space and he needed time then she'd figured out she was fine with that and she wasn't going to encroach upon that at all. She'd be fine until he got back and she tried not to think too much about the possibility that he might not come back. It was only when she really thought about that possibility that she started to feel terrible again about the whole thing.

She'd already beat herself up about the fact that she'd told him, in the first place that she wouldn't marry him, but there wasn't anything that could be done about it anymore. She'd gone and put her foot in her mouth and it had bit her in the ass. Now that was simply something she was going to have to deal with.

"So tell me about Axel," Carol said.

Andrea finished her make up and started toward her room to finish getting ready. Carol followed after her.

"What do you want to know?" Andrea asked. "There's really not that much to tell. I don't know that much about him myself. He's single…he loves that damn dog…he works at the mill. He's pretty plain."

Carol frowned.

"Plain bad?" She asked.

"Plain…just plain. Plain there isn't much to tell," Andrea said with a shrug, digging around in a small cardboard box she'd found somewhere and put her jewelry in. She came up with earrings and Carol watched as she put them on.

"Well did he kiss you or anything?" Carol asked. She felt bad now to think that with all the excitement with Daryl she hadn't even asked Andrea how her little hamburger and ice cream date had gone with Axel. She'd let it slip her mind completely.

Andrea shook her head.

"No, nothing like that. I mean we just went for burgers and ice cream. It was about the same as going on a date with you," Andrea said.

"Maybe tonight," Carol said.

Andrea shrugged.

"Maybe…I'm not rushing it," Andrea said. "I'm not rushing a single damn thing. He can drive this bus…I'm just along for the ride. It's a free meal, right?"

Carol sighed.

"Yeah…it's a free meal, if that's what you want to think of it as," Carol said. "He seems nice, though."

"Oh, I think he is," Andrea said. "At least from what I can tell. I guess time will tell what kinds of skeletons he's got hiding in his closet."

Andrea spritzed herself with perfume and Carol tasted it in the air.

"How do you know he's got skeletons?" Carol asked. "He might not."

She followed Andrea now as she made her way back through the house and toward the kitchen area, presumably to wait for Axel.

"Everyone's got skeletons, Carol," Andrea said. "It's just that some keep them tucked farther back in the closet than others. They all get out and dance a little jig eventually though."

"I guess you're right," Carol said.

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Daryl sat in the rocking chair on the front porch of the Greene farm with his boot up on the railing and the chair kicked back, smoking a cigarette.

Hershel sat a few feet from him, quiet, drinking from the mug of hot apple cider that he held in his hands and looking out in the darkness. He'd asked Daryl more than once if he was interested in talking about what had happened with Carol, but Daryl wasn't really ready to talk about it yet.

He wasn't sure that there was anything to talk about, or if there was he hadn't figured out exactly how he wanted to go about discussing it.

For the moment he wasn't regretting his decision to step away. He didn't mind the little apartment and he didn't mind the silence. Daryl had never been on any kind of vacation, but he'd heard about them, and he thought this might be what vacation was like. His little apartment was quiet and it occurred to him that he'd never been alone in his life before, not really alone. He'd always had someone around or at least had the promise that they were coming around.

In the days since he'd been there, though, he hadn't seen anyone besides the Greenes and the one or two farm hands that worked part time.

And so far he hadn't felt too much like he missed Carol. He missed her at night, and he was grateful that the little bed in his space was small enough that he didn't feel like she should be there. Since she'd never been in the space it didn't feel like she was missing from it. It seemed, for the time being, that she was almost like everyone else, just a memory suspended in time somewhere…something he'd get back to when he was ready to open that box again.

Daryl dropped his boot and pick up the mug of cider that was resting on the porch railing. He drank from it, liking the warmth of the liquid actually far more than the flavor. He lit another cigarette absently and yawned a little.

"Everything alright tonight?" Hershel asked.

Daryl turned his head toward the old man, having forgotten for a moment in the peacefulness of the autumn night that he wasn't alone on the porch.

"Fine," Daryl grunted.

"Nothing you want to talk about?" Hershel asked.

Daryl grunted in the negative and heard the squeak as Hershel rocked the chair he was sitting in.

"Tomorrow's your day off," Hershel said. "You got any big plans?"

Daryl had forgotten it was Saturday. He hadn't really had anything going on here to keep track of the days. It wasn't like there was anyone else's schedule that he had to keep up with.

"No," Daryl said.

Hershel grunted something.

"Well Miss Jo and I will be leaving early for church. You're welcome to come with us if you like. I'm sure Jo will leave biscuits on the stove for your breakfast if you've got a mind to eat something in the morning," Hershel said.

"If it's all the same ta ya, I don't reckon I'm goin' into church," Daryl responded.

Hershel didn't respond, but he didn't tell Daryl that he had to go, so Daryl assumed that case was closed.

"Going into town to see anyone?" Hershel asked.

Now Daryl realized that under the guise of idle chitchat the old man was trying to pry for information. Daryl wasn't going into town, or at least he hadn't planned on it. He'd be just as content staying where he was for the time being.

He knew that Hershel wanted to know if he was going to see Carol, but he didn't have any intention of going to see her just yet. If she was going to be sobby and ask him to come back, then he wasn't prepared to deal with it at the moment. He'd go back eventually, but he wasn't there yet. He didn't want her to want him back just to fill some space that had been left in her house…to fill some role that was just now empty.

"No," Daryl said. "Might go down to the pond. Ya mind if I borrow ya pole?"

"I don't mind," Hershel said. "I don't know how much you'll catch out there, but if you get a mess of Brim then we might do a fish fry tomorrow. I have to spend part of the evening working on planning for the Pumpkin Festival, so I'll be gone most of the day."

Daryl grunted his response and drained the rest of the mug that he was holding.

A moment later the porch light flashed and Hershel chuckled to himself.

"That's my cue," Hershel said. He stood up and reached toward Daryl, taking the mug. "Time for an old timer like myself to hit the hay. Goodnight, Daryl."

"Night," Daryl said, staying seated until he heard the doors clap and the lights went off.

Daryl got to his feet and made his way to the little apartment space that he occupied for the time. He undressed and got into bed, tired from the day…the silence of the room wrapping around him just as much as the quilt from the bed.

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The restaurant that Philip Blake had chosen was a typical place that Michonne had gone when she was dining with other lawyers or when you wanted to take someone somewhere to impress them, but it wasn't somewhere that she frequented often.

The rich décor and the dress code were a stark contrast from the plastic table cloths of most of the establishments in Sweet Junction and she'd had to drive a full forty five minutes just arrive. It was the first time in a long time that she'd been out this late, alone, and not been next to panicked that someone wouldn't know that at night Angelica only liked the purple sippy cup and Celine wouldn't just go down like her sister, but she felt confident tonight that Tyreese was fine with the girls. He knew their routines almost as well as she did at this point.

She was also somewhat pleased that the dress she was wearing, which hadn't been out of the back of the closet in some time, confirmed that she had lost most of those damn ten pounds that had been plaguing her since Celine was born.

Michonne made her way to the host podium and told the gentleman standing there that she was looking for Philip Blake. She'd met the man once since the whole fiasco had been found out about Ed, but she was still confident that she couldn't pick him out of four people. The host smiled at her and escorted her to the table where Blake was already sitting. As she approached he smiled and got up, pulling her seat out for her and denying the host the one act that typically won him some kind of tip on their way out the door.

"Ms. Williams, you look lovely tonight," Philip Blake said when they were settled.

Michonne was taken aback for a second. She wasn't used to being complimented by some random lawyer. They stayed away from commenting on each other's physical appearances and she wasn't comfortable with it or with returning the courtesy if that's all it was.

"Thank you," she said as acknowledgement, but she couldn't bring herself to return the gesture. Michonne put her phone on the edge of the table. "I'm very sorry," she said, excusing the rudeness of the gesture, "but I have two very small children at home and I need to leave my phone in case my fiancé needs something."

Michonne was grateful to have the chance to mention Tyreese. At least it meant that if Blake had anything in mind other than a casual dinner…she'd disguised it as wanting to welcome him…he'd know that she was already spoken for, in the most archaic terms possible.

Philip nodded his head.

"Congratulations on your impending nuptials," Philip said.

"Thank you," Michonne said. She and Tyreese had only barely discussed what they were going to do as far as getting married. She didn't want much of anything since she'd been married before, but since it was his first wedding, and he said it was his last, he wanted something. They'd met in the middle and agreed that they'd have a ceremony in the park when the spring was in full bloom. Nothing too fancy, but something memorable for them both. "Are you married?" Michonne asked.

Philip Blake sipped at the wine that he had before realizing he hadn't filled her glass. He lifted the bottle out of the ice bucket and gestured toward her and she nodded at him. He filled her glass and returned the bottle.

"Divorced," he said.

Michonne nodded her head.

"I know that feeling," she said. "I'm sorry."

Philip shook his head.

"I divorced her," he said. "Of course, she was the one who was unfaithful, but I'm the one who pulled the plug on a marriage that was barely hanging on as it was."

Michonne frowned and nodded her head again.

"My first husband had a taste for the exotic as well," Michonne said. She snickered. "And the fresher fruit on the vine, I guess you could say."

Philip Blake chuckled and sat back in his chair.

Throughout dinner they maintained casual small talk and Michonne had to keep reminding herself that she was dining with the enemy. She could see how people found him charming and even alluring. He had a lot of good traits as a lawyer in that he seemed to know how to make himself personable and, Michonne thought, if she hadn't known that he was representing Ed and it weren't something she took personally, she would have found him quite charming herself.

Finally, dinner over and coffee and dessert served, she started up the chatter about cases and keeping busy. She briefly stated that she stayed busy, but like any small town lawyer most of her cases were less than exciting. Mostly they were quibbles that anyone with any ability to talk things out could have handled on their own.

Philip chuckled at the thought.

"Really," he said, "I think that most every case is a case born of miscommunication or the lack of communication. Really there's not much that we need the courts for besides the fact that people, imperfect as we are, don't possess the ability to reason when it comes to situations we are personally involved in."

"That may be true of most situations," Michonne said, "but what about cases when you're dealing with, for instance, murder…robbery…things in which discussion was never part of the deal."

Philip chuckled and tipped his head as he took a bit of his dessert.

"Mmm…perhaps. There are exceptions, of course. The occasional madman that murders people he's never met…the individual who robs for the sheer pleasure he derives from acquiring something that wasn't his to begin with. But in many cases, and in particular the ones that I've handled in my career, there were often breaches in communication," Philip said.

Michonne tried not to outwardly show what she thought in the moment. There weren't communication issues between Carol and Ed that justified the way the man acted. He was a brute, plain and simple. Lack of communication could lead to a lot of things, not all of them pleasant, but Michonne didn't think that any of it merited violence.

"Are you working on anything exciting at the moment?" Michonne asked, trying to make it seem that she was simply curious.

Philip smiled.

"Are you asking me to discuss my cases?" He asked.

Michonne shook her head and offered up the best angelic smile she could muster.

"Not in detail, of course. I just meant overall. For instance, at the moment I'm working on an absolutely riveting property dispute involving a tree that grows between the houses of two people who are sworn mortal enemies…that's as exciting as it gets in my world," Michonne said. "I was just wondering if, working for County, you might encounter things that are more exciting."

Philip Blake spooned the last of his dessert in his mouth and leaned back, sipping at his coffee. His eyes flashed something at Michonne and she got the chilling feeling that she'd been found out. She maintained her facial expression, though, and tasted another bite of her dessert.

"I've got a few that aren't so dull as a tree and a property line," Philip said. "One as interesting at the simple corruption of small town law enforcement and crooked officials."

Michonne raised her eyebrows.

"Wow," she said. "That must be pretty exciting."

"Sad, too, really," Philip said. "I'm a small town man myself. I come from North Carolina originally. It was always one of those facts that you knew the law was all about who you knew, but you never realized how truly corrupt everything was until you got into working with it hands on. So many people twist the law to suit their needs."

Michonne nodded a little.

"You could look it at that way, I suppose," Michonne said. "Or you could look at it as that's essentially all that any lawyer does. It's really all a game, isn't it? A mind game of sorts to manipulate the evidence and the perspectives of the jury members."

Philip Blake nodded his head.

"It is, you're right. It's a game of which mouse will get the cheese. I like the game, though. I've made it a point in my life to become as good at it as was possible. I take losing very personally," Philip said.

Michonne smiled again.

"Don't we all?" She asked.

Something else flashed in the man's eyes and Michonne was sure that he knew exactly who she was and exactly why she was there. She wasn't getting any information from the man and she was too smart to pry any further. If she tried to go too deep she might end up sticking her own foot into things and that was the last thing she wanted. If he were to report, to anyone, anything about this evening, she didn't want it coming back on her as anything more than a casual conversation.

"The issue with the tree is silly…" she said, changing the subject and trying to make it seem like she had just as much interest in her own ridiculousness as she had in what he was doing. "It's one of those cases where you don't mind much if you win or lose because you're simply involved in yet another squabble between two people who are notorious for fighting with one another."

Philip Blake chuckled a little.

"In which case you are simply a well-paid babysitter," Philip said.

Michonne chuckled.

"That's what it boils down to," she said.

They continued the conversation in the same grain until finally they'd finished everything. Michonne picked up the tab for the meal since she'd made the invitation, despite the protests of Philip Blake, and she generously tipped the waiter and the host so that they'd remember her fondly, as they often did, when she returned with clients or someone else that she cared to impress.

Philip Blake walked her to her car after they left the restaurant and she bid him farewell, getting into the car quickly and locking the doors immediately. Outside the restaurant, alone in the darkness with him, she'd felt a strange feeling of unease wash over her. She knew she suffered, like most women, from a bit of paranoia when it came to being in the dark, alone, with men she didn't know, but for all his charm there was something that was very clearly off about Mr. Philip Blake.

Michonne drove back home, full but frustrated. Philip Blake knew who she was, there was no doubt about that. He knew, from what he'd said, that Ed's case had been rigged. Though she hadn't been directly involved in the rigging, she was sure he didn't believe her to be entirely innocent of influence if nothing else.

She had no idea what platform, exactly, was the one that Philip Blake was going to use in the case of Ed Peletier, but she had a strong feeling that he was playing hardball and he wasn't going to let this be swept under the rug again. He was likely making a lot of money off of Ed…perhaps all the man had left…but there was something personal in it too. Even though Michonne couldn't put her finger on what it was, she could tell from Blake's speaking that something about it was personal…and when the case is personal, the lawyer's always at their best. Michonne knew that little piece of information well.