Part V

We Don't Get To Be Upset

It was mid afternoon when they arrived at the gates of the prison. The yard where once children had played now lay in ruin, the hundred or so decomposed corpses a grim reminder of what had taken place. The fences were down, having been crushed by the burned tank which sat nearby and the army of vehicles which followed.

The ground felt hallowed, and at first they spoke only in hushed tones as though in a cemetery. With a little time, however, they began to open up.

"When you and Rick found this place, it was like Eden," Carol commented. "After all those months on the road, it was almost too good to be true that we might have someplace safe to stay. It was a godsend. We started clearing these yards, and it already felt like home."

"Let's do the safe thing now, all right?" Daryl chided. His crossbow was raised as he scoured the grounds to make certain they were alone.

"I don't see any walkers, Daryl," She said.

"Ain't just the dead we got to watch out for."

"That's why I brought you," Carol joked. She gave up when he removed the rifle she carried over her shoulder and put it in her hands.

Then a thought occurred to her.

"Daryl," she jerked her chin toward the west watchtower. "Let's go see what we can see."

Carol and Daryl climbed the ladder to the tower, just as they'd done on their very first day here.

"Right here was the first time I ever really shot anything but targets."

"Ya did good," Daryl told her.

"Except that I almost shot Rick."

A smile crept across his face. "Yeah, that was funny."

"Shut up," she chortled.

"It woulda just been a graze. Rick woulda got over it. Hell, I was able to laugh off Andrea shootin' me in my head."

Carol smiled again. "You were a damn good sport about that."

"We shoulda done it, you know."

It took Carol a moment to register the shift in gears.

"Shot Rick?"

"Screwed around."

Oh, thaaaaat. "Hey, Pookie, I tried. More than once. All I ever got was 'stawp'. A girl can only take so much rejection."

Daryl stared at her in stunned silence.

"Wait. Hold up! You weren't jokin'?"

"A little, maybe. But mostly no. Maybe I should have been more clear."

The air between them had definitely changed. There was a palpable electricity to it now.

"Would it have made a difference? If you knew I was serious?"

His reply was barely audible over his breath. "Yeah."

"I just figured you weren't interested. And I'd rather have you as my friend than force the issue and have nothing at all, so I let it go."

"I was interested. Am interested," he confessed. "Problem is, we both know it ain't just about sex. And neither one of us is doin' too good with life right now."

"Maybe we'd do better together."

Without a word, Daryl suddenly snatched up his crossbow and launched a bolt into the forehead of a walker that had staggered into the yard.

"There's more," Carol pointed, "coming in from the east."

"Yep," Daryl answered. The mood was broken. The moment was gone. "We best get out 'fore we get trapped up here."

"You can go down first," Carol teased.

"Stawp."

They descended the ladder and made their way into the cell block.

"You sure a cell is the way to go?" Carol asked.

"Whole cell block," Daryl replied. "After we clear it we can lock ourselves in and be safe."

"But with the fences down we could wake up surrounded. No way out."

"Could get out through the tombs if need be," Daryl offered. "May be walkers, but we can fight through. We done it before."

( )

The cell block was easy enough to clear, having been occupied by only a handful of walkers. Daryl dragged the bodies out and battened down the hatches for the night. They found themselves wandering in and out of the cells and the common area, unconsciously touching each object they found and becoming flooded with memories. Not all of the memories were bad—indeed, many were pleasant. But they still drifted about like ghosts in the empty steel and cement. Carol lit some candles.

Daryl ran his hand along the side of a white box, open at the top. On the side were the words "Lil Asskicker". Fond memories of holding that sweet newborn and giving her her first bottle surrounded him. He made a mental note to reconnect with her when he got the chance again.

As if reading his thoughts, Carol said, "I heard you were so cute with her when she was first born. Must have been when I was in the tombs." Carol honestly couldn't recall ever seeing Daryl interact with Judith.

"Yeah," he said. "You know we went down there soon as we could, right?"

"I know," she responded without rancor. "The baby would have died without milk."

"I found your scarf, thought you was gone. And T-dog, and Lori. I wasn't about to lose the baby, too."

"How did you find me down there?" Carol wondered.

"We were clearin' it. We passed by that door, right near where we found T-dog, and it was blocked by a corpse and rattlin' like there was a walker in there. Figured it couldn't do no harm, so we'd get it on the way out. Went on a little further, and there was a walker with your knife lodged in its neck. I pulled that knife out and looked at it, and I jus' felt sick. I knew what the walker in the cubby was."

Slowly it began to dawn on Carol what must have been going through his mind on that day.

"I sent Carl and Oscar on ahead, and I sat there, felt like forever, trying to work up the balls to do what needed done."

"You thought I was behind the door, but you thought I'd turned."

"Mm hmm. I almost didn't open it. I started to walk away 'cause I couldn't bring myself to do it." He made a stabbing motion with his right hand. "Then I made myself go back. Couldn't leave you to go through eternity like that. Son of a bitch, I was so shocked."

"First T-Dog saved my life, then you did."

"What you got there?" He asked Carol with a nod of his chin.

"My wallet."

"Got pictures in it?"

"A few." She handed it to him.

He thumbed through it, studying each photo. "This Sophia?" He was pointing to a toddler.

"Her second birthday."

"Hey, this you?"

The photo was of a young woman with tons of curly brown hair and very familiar sparkling blue eyes.

Carol rolled her eyes and retrieved the wallet. "About three lifetimes ago."

"How old were you?" He asked.

"Probably early twenties. I went gray at thirty. I always blamed Ed, but it was probably just genetics."

"Why blame?" Daryl asked genuinely. "It looks good on ya."

Carol was grateful for the relative darkness of the cell block so that he couldn't see the redness spreading across her features.

Passing through the cell once occupied by Michonne, Daryl picked up the multi-colored cat statue.

"Just like that damn ass-wipe paintin'. I don't get it."

"Okay, I'm with you on this one," she concurred.

She shone her flashlight to a cell at the far end. Like the others, it remained frozen in time. The coatrack still sat in the rear corner. Children's art hung on the wall behind the bunk bed. Atop the dresser was the sign This workplace has gone 3 days without an accident. They stood wordlessly in the cell, each remembering Beth in his or her own way.

As they turned to leave, Daryl asked "what's today's date?"

"The twenty-seventh," Carol answered.

He updated the sign to read 13 days without an accident.

"We don't get to be upset," he said softly.

"That was kind of a mantra with her. 'We all have jobs to do. We don't get to be upset,'" Carol added. "But I think now, it was wrong. Not getting to be upset is part of the problem. We never got to fully grieve anything."

Carol wondered what happened thirteen days prior. She suspected it had to with whatever retaliation the Saviors had inflicted for the family's actions at the outpost. She still wasn't sure she was quite ready to cope with it, so she didn't dare ask.

Dinner consisted of some MREs they had brought with them. They sat by the light of the candles and enjoyed—well, as much as anyone can enjoy an MRE. Carol's cooking would have been far superior, but they couldn't risk an open fire without any means to ventilate.

"So when Rick sent you away," Daryl began, "he didn't even let you come back for your stuff?"

"No."

"That sucks."

"He thought he was doing the right thing for his family."

"It was bullshit," Daryl felt his anger rising all over again. "He wasn't even in charge. He shoulda let the council decide! Everyone shoulda been allowed to say their piece. He came so close to needin' false teeth."

He met Carol's eyes. "I was gonna come after you. Me and Rick went to talk to Tyreese, then I was gonna get my shit and come after you. But the governor attacked just then."

"You were needed here," Carol told him. "I was so shocked and so hurt when he told me I wasn't coming back. It was like everything I did for everyone meant nothing. He didn't want me around his kids? Seriously? We've forgiven each other, and we're good now, but back then I was devastated."

She rose and yawned. "I'm gonna turn in."

"I don't wanna sleep in no cell," Daryl said. "Done with that shit. Gonna go get my mattress."

"Mine, too, please?" It occurred to Carol a few moments later to wonder why he was averse to the cell. Although he'd initially resisted sleeping in a "cage", he'd eventually relaxed and claimed a cell as his own.

"Yup."

He slung the mattresses over his shoulder and dropped them on the floor by the candle. Carol couldn't help but notice the flexion and relaxation of his muscles in the lighting. The romantic lighting. Stop it, Carol, she chided herself.

He had changed, she noticed. There was a time during their life here when he had been happy—or what passes for happy in the zombie apocalypse. She had been, too. She missed the daily banter and easy friendship they'd had.

To be fair, she had changed as well. It after leaving here that she'd began taking on false personas, throwing up walls around herself. Once out of the prison, she'd grown increasingly uncomfortable in her own skin. Now there were so many Carols that even she couldn't be sure which one was real. It was dawning on her that this was working—she was starting to smile and feel like herself again; like maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to go forward.

"I think the time here was the happiest I've ever seen you," she mused aloud.

"It was."

He hoped that Carol wouldn't question his avoidance of the cells. As soon as he had walked in earlier he'd flashed back to his time at the Sanctuary, naked and alone in that dark, enclosed space. She still didn't know about his abduction and torture and he aimed to keep it that way.

"I kind of miss the vibe we had going here," she said.

Daryl drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "This was the only place I ever felt respected. Useful. Like what I was doin' mattered. Funny how I had to live in a prison to feel free."

He had a faraway stare. "Then the governor came, and it was all gone. I was back to bein' nothin'."

His words broke Carol's heart. "You've never been 'nothing', Daryl. Even if you didn't realize it."

"Got it back a little at Alexandria, after a while. After Rick took over, and I was doin' runs and recruitin' with Aaron. Started to feel okay again. Course it all went to shit again."

Carol snuffed the candle.

"You said we all get to start over," she reminded him.

"Mm hmm."

"Still believe that?"

"I don't know what I believe anymore."

"Well, it's starting to become more clear to me," she said. "More and more, I think we can start over. And we should."

"Should get some sleep. Got a lot to do tomorrow."

His statement was curious to her; after all, they weren't punching a time clock. Accepting that he must be finished with the conversation, she laid her head on the mattress. He clearly had something on his mind that he wasn't ready to share just yet, but she wasn't going to push him.

( )

Morning came. A beautiful spring Georgia morning. The sun was shining brightly and the sky was clear when Daryl and Carol emerged from the prison. The walkers from the previous evening had apparently moved on in their hunt for warm flesh.

Daryl stopped along the inner fence and peered across the field toward the governor's vehicles.

"I coulda stopped it," he said softly.

"What?" Carol asked.

"I was standin' right here, Carl was next to me. We both had open shots at the governor. Son of a bitch was right over there. Had Hershel and Michonne on their knees, fuckin' sword to Hershel's throat. I had an open shot and I didn't take it."

"Rick was trying to negotiate," Carol pointed out. "You were still hoping for a peaceful resolution, trying to avoid a bloodbath."

"I didn't take the shot. Hell, I stopped Carl from takin' the shot. And a bloodbath is what we got. Then we all had to run into the woods. Didn't know if we'd ever see anyone again."

"Maggie could've taken the shot, too. So could Beth. Or Tyreese. Or Sasha. Or Bob. None of you took the shot. It would've been a bloodbath either way. Because that was what the Governor wanted."

Daryl nodded sadly.

"What happened to the tank, anyway?" She wondered. "When I drove up I could see it burning."

"That was me," Daryl answered.

"I should've known."

Daryl's face fell as he pondered the next task.

"Can you help me with something?"

"Of course," Carol said.

"We need to bury him."

Most of the remains strewn about the battlefield were far too decomposed to be identified, but Hershel's artificial leg made the grisly task easier. It also helped that Daryl had a pretty good idea of where to look.

"Who put him down?" Carol asked. The skull had a distinctive cut through it.

"Michonne. Said he was decapitated when he turned."

They buried him by the row of graves they made during their residency.

"Hershel was one of the kindest, gentlest souls I ever met," Carol said. "I miss him terribly. You deserved better than you got, Hershel, and I want to thank you for all the love and guidance."

"You were a great example of what a man—what a father—should be," Daryl eulogized. "Nothin' but mad love and respect, man."

Carol moved on to the next grave.

"T-Dog. I don't know what to say. You sacrificed yourself to the walkers so that I could get away."

"Thanks, brother," Daryl spoke from his heart.

"Lori, I'm sorry I didn't get to say goodbye. Your little girl is beautiful and amazing. I still miss you."

"Axel," Daryl said. "He turned out to be a pretty good guy."

"He did. And he told me I was a lesbian," she remembered fondly. "Which was news to me."

Daryl didn't know why he found the funny, just that he did.

"It's a damn shame Andrea died at Woodbury. She and I had our ups and downs but we got along good in the end. She was a warrior."

"Karen…and David." Carol sighed. "Is it crazy that I'm still not convinced I was wrong?"

"You ain't gonna find any judgement here. They were dyin' anyway. You probably saved them from sufferin'."

"I did it to stop the spread of infection. It spread anyway. That was the frustrating thing—that it was futile. And then when Tyreese jumped you, then Rick, and Rick beat on Tyreese….it all spiraled out of control. But in the end, my intentions were good. I don't know, maybe I was wrong. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, right?"

"Your heart was in the right place."

Carol scrounged around in the car and returned with the wine and glasses.

"To Andrea."

"To Hershel."

"To Lori."

"To T-Dog."

"To Karen."

"To David."

"To Axel."

"And to Oscar, who gave his life to help Glenn and Maggie."

Just past the graves, they came upon the section of fence once broken down by a herd of undead.

"Remember this?" Daryl asked. "Rick said it looked like someone was feedin' rats to the walkers. That's why they kept bunchin' up here."

"It was Lizzie," Carol said flatly.

"For real?"

"For real."

"There's a story there."

"There is," Carol admitted. "But I'm not ready to tell it yet. We can make it the next place we go."

Returning to the cell block, they scavenged anything that anyone back home might want. Carol's wallet, Michonne's godawful cat sculpture and Hershel's bible all found their way into the car.

The next part of the journey, by necessity, had to be on foot. They decided to lock all non-essentials in the trunk, and retrieve the car on their way back north. Backpacks loaded, water bottles filled. Daryl recovered his bolt from the walker's head as they disappeared into the woods.

...TBC