A/N Hey guys, I'm trying to make sure I update a bit more regularly. Sorry most of this is show recap, I try to avoid that as much as I can, hope you like it anyway! Enjoy and leave me some love 3
Sam closes her eyes against the coming dawn, wishing the events of the last day to be only a dream, even though she can still see the grave markers they put up for T-Dog and Carol in her mind. She can hear the baby start to wake, and soon everyone else will be awake too. She sits up on the bed and runs her fingers quickly through her hair, taming the mess into a braid, glancing around she doesn't see Daryl, but it's not the first time he's been up before dawn, so she doesn't worry. Rick is still gone, but no one wants to talk about it, since according to Glenn, he wasn't too stable the last time he saw him.
Sam makes her way to the tables and sever herself a plate of powdered eggs, she looks across at Beth, who looks slightly more exhausted than normal.
"The baby keep you up all night?" Sam asks, looking at the bundle sleeping comfortably in the girl's arms. "Figures she wants to sleep now."
"She wasn't too bad. I don't mind." Beth smiles.
Daryl walks back in and sits next to Sam, "We oughta clear out the rest of the walkers today."
Sam protests when he picks a chunk of eggs off her plate and tosses it in his mouth, licking his fingers clean.
"Get your own plate if you're hungry." she mutters with a smile.
"How's Lil Asskicker?" he asks Beth.
"That ain't gonna be her name, but she's doing fine. Probably ready to eat again soon. Maggie and Glenn are goin on a run later, try and get some more formula." Beth says "The way she eats, what you found yesterday won't last long."
The sound of the door opening makes everyone turn and watch Rick walk through, still looking dazed and covered in sweat, dust and walker blood.
"Cleared out the boiler block." he says, sounding exhausted "I just wanted to check on Carl and everybody."
Rick turns to leave again, but Daryl speaks up "Rick, wait. We'll go back together, clear out some more of the block."
Rick just shakes his head and keeps walking. Hershel stands on his crutches and silently follows Rick out.
Maggie and Glenn leave on their run after Hershel gets back, and now that Beth wont be alone with the baby Daryl, Sam, Carl and Oscar leave to clear out the generator block and see if they can fix it at all.
Carl is unusually quiet and Sam doesn't try to get him to say anything, after all the things he's seen and done over the last twenty four hours he deserves a little time to work it out, and she wouldn't even know where to start.
Daryl walks next to Carl and Sam hangs back, listening to him talk to Carl about his mother's death.
"I shot my mom in the head to keep her from turning. It was real." Carl says with little emotion "Sorry about your mom."
"Sorry bout yours. She was a good lady." Daryl says, glancing back over Carl's head at Sam.
They round a corner and see a door weakly banging open and shut, blocked by the body of a fallen walker.
"Don't look like it's got much fight left. We'll get it on the way back." Daryl says, distracted by the bloated face of another walker. He pulls the knife out of it's neck, ignoring the spray of blood that follows. "That's Carol's knife."
Sam notices how dark his face looks, they're all still feeling her loss. Daryl maybe more than most. She can almost see the thoughts cross his mind when he glances back at the door. The same ones are going through her head, they never found Carol's remains and now her knife near the door. Maybe they should just leave the door closed. It might be better for everyone that way. But she knows Daryl. It's bad enough that one of their own might have turned, but to not take care of it would be worse.
They leave Oscar at the generator room, Daryl threatening him if anything goes wrong. Oscar just stares at him, not phased at all.
"You an Carl go on back to the block," Daryl says shortly before they get back to the door where they found Carol's knife. "I'll take care of this an be right behind you."
"You sure?" She asks, already knowing the answer.
"Yeah, get on back." he nods to the hall ahead.
Daryl walks with them a while longer until they are only a few turns from the block before he turns and goes back to the door, which is feebly hitting the corpse in front of it. With a heavy heart he sits on the floor across from it, not yet ready to open it. He unsheathes Carol's knife from his belt and inspects it in the dim light. Nothing much to it, more of just a pig sticker than a proper knife. Part of him is amazed she lasted so long, being such a weak woman and all. He shoves away that thought as soon as it surfaces though, knowing it's not true, that it's only left over feelings about his mother making him think that, if his mother had been half as strong as Carol had been she never would have taken out her anger at her husband on him and Merle. Then maybe they would have had to endure one set of beatings. He drives the knife into the cement floor, wishing he could drive away those painful memories as easily. Carol had been strong, she survived the loss of her husband, even thrived after it, and was strong enough to cope with the loss of her only child, didn't let it cripple her. She was an asset to the group. Lost in thoughts and anger he drives the knife into the same spot in the floor over and over, chipping away little pieces.
The soft banging on the door is finally getting on his nerves enough to do something about it. He pushes off the floor, yanking the knife out one final time and kicks the wall with a yell, still mentally preparing for what's behind the door he turns away, pounding and kicking the wall a few times.
He grabs the corpse in front of the door by the collar and belt, jerks it away and flings the door open, knife ready to end it quickly. His heart almost stops when the door slams into the wall and Carol weakly rolls her head to look at him, her hand still trying to move a door that is no longer there. He stands in shock for a few seconds, taking in the sight, not bitten, not turned, not dead, but not far from it. Coming to his senses, he sheaths the knife and kneels down, guiding her arm over his shoulders and scoops her up in his arms.
"You're one lucky sumbitch." he says, looking down at her.
Her eyelids flutter, on the edge of unconsciousness, but the corner of her mouth turns up with as much energy as she can gather.
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