Part III

Sophia Wasn't Mine!

Just past the mailbox labelled "Greene" was the driveway. The dirt path was now littered with weeds and leaves. They rolled to a stop in front of the white farmhouse. Though plenty of long-dead walkers lay on the ground, there were no obvious upright menaces.

"They must have moved on once they'd worked their way through all of the cattle and horses," Carol theorized.

Daryl threw open the front door, crossbow at the ready, while Carol covered him with the rifle. They moved swiftly from room to room. Satisfied that no one else, alive or dead, was in the house, they lowered their weapons.

He leaned against the wall and lit up a cigarette while Carol rummaged through the kitchen cabinets for ingredients to make supper.

"Last time I was in this room we had to have a meetin' and a vote to decide whether to kill a man."

"Simpler times," she sighed.

"Now I wouldn't think twice about it."

"I don't think that's true."

"Naw?"

"No."

"Randall was bad news. If the Saviors had been around then, he'd a been one of 'em."

"Rice and beans?" She held up a box.

"Needs sausage."

"We don't have any."

"Rice and beans, it is."

She fiddled futilely with the knobs on the stove. "I guess it finally ran out of gas. We're gonna need a fire."

Daryl built a nice flame in the fireplace while she prepped the meal. Finally, the pot was over the fire.

"You said you wouldn't think twice about it now. But you did."

"Huh?"

"You could've killed those people in the burned out forest. No one would have blamed you after they'd tied you up and held you at gunpoint. But you didn't kill them."

He plopped down on the sofa. "But I shoulda."

"In retrospect, yes. But mercy and compassion are never wrong."

"Sure felt wrong when they took my shit and left me defenseless. Or when Dwight killed Denise with my crossbow. Or, hell, how 'bout when he shot me?!" He angrily pulled back his shirt collar to expose the bandage before remembering that he hadn't told her it was a gunshot wound.

Carol nodded. So that's what it was. She defused him with a soft tone. "It's gonna need to cook a while. Let's have a look around."

It was a funny kind of thing. They had looted countless homes of strangers since the Turn, and never thought a thing about it. It was just how they lived now. But looting the home of someone they knew and loved felt very, very intrusive. They went through closets and drawers, disturbing only the items they felt Maggie might like to have. It was sobering to realize that of the six people living in this house when they'd first arrived, only one remained. Stacks of photo albums and heirlooms went into the trunk of the car. Any nonperishable food items, medications and bandages were collected as well.

Daryl paused in the doorway of the guest bedroom. He had lain there recuperating after Hershel stitched up his wounds. Carol had surprised him by bringing him a tray of food. Embarrassed, he'd hastily pulled the blanket up to prevent her from seeing the scars on his back.

"You're every bit as good as Rick and Shane. Every bit."

He wondered if she had any idea how much those words had meant to him. Though, even then she had understood him better than anyone else, so he suspected she likely did have an inkling.

They dug through the trash to retrieve the empty cans, using them to string up a makeshift alarm system around the house so that they would both be able to sleep.

Daryl was right—the rice and beans needed sausage, or, hell, even opossum. But they had to work with what they had.

( )

…and we're breaking out the good champagne

Sitting pretty on the gravy train….

Daryl jerked and twitched in his sleep. Horrific visions assaulted his senses.

"I want you to know me. So…back to it!"

No, no, this can't be happening. Please, no. It should be me. He didn't do anything wrong.

'Cause the world is but a treat when you're on Easy Street

"Suck. My. Nuts."

'Cause the world is but a treat when you're on Easy Street

"You got your friend killed. I got Tina killed. Don't pretend like you don't know the score."

Yeah, we got a front row seat to a life that can't be beat

Right here on Easy Street

He'd never been so happy to wake up in his life. Carol was awake already, making some instant coffee she'd found.

"Bad dream?"

"Yeah." Something like that.

She handed him a cup of what would have to pass for coffee. He took a long swig. Damn, how she manage to make even instant coffee taste good?

"Thanks."

"You ready to take a walk?"

"We're gonna find out."

Now began the hard part. They had to go out into the fields to revisit the horrors that had befallen them there.

They stood on the front porch and surveyed the scene before them. To the distant left lay the capped off well, likely with half of a walker still swimming in it. To the distant right stood the ruins of the burned out barn which once housed two dozen walking dead and now held a powder keg of painful memories for them. To the slight right of the porch, about two hundred yards out, was a patch of oaks giving shade to a handful of tents. Beyond that, in the next patch of trees, they knew they would find grave representing Otis, as well as the final resting places of Sophia and Dale.

On the way to the barn, they passed the stable. Daryl recalled "borrowing" the crazy horse that eventually threw him, leading to a cascade of events culminating in him being impaled on his own arrow and shot in the head by Andrea. Fun times. He hadn't made a fan of Hershel "where's my horse?" Greene. "If it's smart, it left the country." Who could've known that in a short time the men would come to respect one another?

He also recalled, painfully, that this stable was where Carol had dared to show concern for his well-being and he had thanked her by calling her a "stupid bitch" and throwing a saddle. He wondered how that must have felt to a woman who was accustomed to being mistreated by a man, and shame enveloped him again. He had apologized to her, sure, and she'd been very gracious about it, but still he knew it wasn't one of his finer moments. But why had she been so gracious about it? Had she, even then, understood him so well that she knew where the outburst was coming from?

Arriving at the barn, they turned to face it. The single worst moments of Carol's life happened here. She could still see Shane breaking the lock, hear the anguished cries of the Greene family, remember the walkers lurching out into the daylight. Her heart was breaking for them; clearly, the undead needed to be put down, but it felt like they were violating the rights of these people who had helped them so much and not asked for anything in return. And then came the worst part of all, after it seemed like all was said and done.

Sophia! No, no, no! In that one instant, all of Carol's worst nightmares came true. Irrationally, she raced toward her little girl. Daryl grabbed her, restrained her, held her while she screamed. He had been hellbent on destroying the walkers, blasting them alongside Shane, Andrea and T-Dog, but when he saw Sophia, he threw the rifle aside and thought of Carol.

Daryl was lost in his own thoughts. The image of Sophia creeping out of the barn with murder in her eyes was burned into his consciousness. Instinctively, he knew Carol was coming, and he'd tossed the rifle away and reached out for her. He would have given anything to shield her from that moment, from having to witness Rick being forced to put a bullet into the head of her only child. But he had failed to do that. He had failed all the way around where Carol and Sophia were concerned.

"Do you think they knew?" Carol's voice broke him from his reverie.

"Hershel? At first I thought that. But then I got to know him. He didn't know. He woulda told us if he did."

"They never saw her? All the times they came out here to feed the walkers?" She sighed. "I know, you're right. Maggie would have told us, too."

"Otis was in charge of roundin' em up. He died before he even knew we were lookin' for a little girl."

"We can thank Shane for that."

"Yep."

He lit up a cigarette and they passed it back and forth.

"You know, that's not the only thing that happened here."

"Randall?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I was so disappointed in you when I heard you were 'interrogating' him with your fists."

"I remember."

"If it happened today, I would do it myself. Not with fists of course, but he'd probably wish for that."

"We got what we needed to know outta him."

"What did he say that bothered you so much?"

Daryl exhaled, unsure whether to tell her.

"He told me this story 'bout his crew gang rapin' two girls and making their daddy watch. Like he was tryin' to impress me. Guess he thought I'd be cool with that. Ya know, stereotypes bein' what they are."

"So then once he admitted he knew Maggie…."

"Yep. We couldn't risk him bringing his friends back here." He figured honesty was the way to go, so he added, "now? I'd just kill him on the spot."

"And you'd be right to."

The followed the tree line to the point where an agitated, distracted Dale had come upon a walker.

"Sorry, brother."

"First time I ever killed a man," Daryl mused.

"He was suffering terribly. It was the best thing."

"I don't regret it. I hope someone'd do the same for me. But once you cross that line, ain't no goin' back."

The next stop was the grave of Sophia. Carol sat on the grass beside it and Daryl crouched next to her.

Carol's eyes misted. "I didn't even attend the service for my own child."

"You weren't ready."

"Daryl?"

"Hmm?"

"Why?" She'd asked him once before, but his answer, although sweet, had been unsatisfactory. "Why were you so invested in finding her? You were out here all hours of the day and night. You nearly died. All for a child you didn't even really know. Why?"

He tucked his legs under him as he sat. "When I was about ten," he began, "I got lost in the woods. My mom'd been dead a couple years already, Merle was in juvie, and my dad, he was off on a bender with some waitress. Nine days I wandered 'round those woods 'fore I finally found my way back home. Scared. Alone. Wonderin' why nobody was findin' me. Father of the year? He didn't even know I was missin'."

When he told the story to Andrea so long ago, he had laughed it off like it was an amusing anecdote. Now, however, with Carol, his true feelings about it were apparent.

"Hit home too much, I guess. Sophia was lucky. She had people who cared enough to look for her."

"I wish that she could've known you," Carol said. "I wonder every day what she would be like now. How she would look, how she would feel, what our relationship would have been like...what I would be like."

They bowed their heads in silent acknowledgement that Sophia's death had been the main catalyst of Carol's transformation into who she was today.

"Ed never even wanted her."

"He was a damn fool," Daryl hissed bitterly. "The dumb fuck was so lucky to have a sweet kid and a great wife—." He stopped abruptly, aware of the confession he hadn't meant to make. "I'll be right back."

He vanished, leaving Carol a few moments alone with her daughter. She hadn't asked for it, but she was grateful.

Daryl returned and sat next to her again. He was reminded of another time he'd been cruel to Carol. She was trying to comfort him and he'd intimated that she hadn't done her job as a mom, hadn't watched Sophia closely enough.

"Sophia wasn't mine! All you had to do was keep an eye on her!"

He cringed recalling how she'd flinched as though she thought he was going to hit her.

"Did I ever apologize? For what I said after?"

"You don't owe me any apologies."

"I do. You just lost your little girl, and you were bein' kind and worried for me. I was reelin' from everything, and I lashed out at you. It was cruel and disgustin', and I'm really sorry."

"Thank you." She gave him a appreciative grin through her tears, but then her face clouded over again. "I was a crappy mom, though."

"Bullshit! You loved that kid!"

"I did. But somehow I've managed to lose every child I've loved."

Off Daryl's puzzled expression, she continued, "another time, ok?"

He took the hint and let it drop.

"Let's have another service. Now."

She got onto her knees and he followed suit.

"Sophia? It's mommy. I love you, baby. And I miss you every single day. I'd give anything to have you here with me. I'm so sorry I let you down, sweetie. I couldn't protect you. Not from daddy, not from walkers, not from anything. I didn't even give you the skills and confidence to protect yourself. I hope that it's beautiful where you are now."

Daryl reached out and placed a single Cherokee rose on the grave.

He then produced a bottle of wine they'd found amongst Otis' belongings and filled two glasses.

"To Sophia."

"To Dale."

"To Shane."

"To Otis."

"To Patricia."

"To Jimmy."

He held her while cried until the tears finally stopped.

Before leaving the farm, they decided to ransack the tents for personal items. They didn't find much worth keeping, just Lori's and Glenn's wallets. Daryl opened Glenn's carefully to discover photographs of people he presumed to be his parents and sister. He would take this and give it to Maggie. Then her baby could know what it's father's side of the family looked like.

Carol picked up Sophia's tattered doll from her pillow.

"Think that'll hold up to a washin'?" Daryl asked. "Don't know how long it was in that creek."

She smiled gratefully. "It's perfect just how it is."

...TBC