Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.

a/n: A shorter chapter, my apologies.

...

Carol stepped out of her cell, the bundle of clothing clasped tightly to herself and she frowned suddenly, listening. It was all to quiet. Normally the prison would be alive with the sounds of the others bustling about. She held the laundry tighter to herself as she stepped down the gangplank, her eyes drifting across the row of narrow cell doorways. Nothing again. Biting at her lip, she hurried down to the small kitchen area, her eyes drifting across to where she could see Hershel sat with Maggie and Beth either side of him, his ever present Bible flattened and opened on the table before him. His voice was low and steady as he recited a verse, his daughters eyes rapt with attention and focus.

"Have you seen Daryl or Merle?" she asked, her voice breaking the older mans monotone.

Beth glanced across to her and smiled, "I haven't seen Merle, but I think Daryl-"

"Daryl's out back with Glenn," Maggie broke in, frowning at her younger sister.

Carol raised an eyebrow at them as she walked across to an empty table, dumping the clean pile of laundry to the top. She ran her hand lightly over the clothes, her eyes roaming the prison before finally settling on Merle's cell.

It was empty.

She felt a thrill of alarm spread through her as she remembered the night before, the way that he had left and suddenly she felt like she couldn't breath. As she stepped closer to his cell, she wondered what exactly had Rick asked him to do. She stood with her hands pressed to the cell bars, the alarm taking a greater urgency as she saw his neatly made bed, obviously not slept in. Maybe it was nothing, she told herself, maybe he was just outside with Daryl, and she was worrying over nothing. But still the restlessness wouldn't leave her, it lay coiled tightly in the pit of her stomach. She sighed, brushing her hand over her hair. Stepping back, she let her fingers slip from the cell bars and paced hurriedly across the room to the outer door.

Pausing, she heard voices and she listened for a moment. Daryl was asking Glenn if he'd seen Merle, and she felt the anxiousness tighten in her stomach again.

"He said sorry yet? 'cause he is, ya know," she heard Daryl say, and she moved quickly to the door, pushing it open. She saw Daryl stood hesitantly to the front of Glenn, his crossbow held loosely in his hands.

She watched as Glenn looked away from him, saying nothing, just looking down at the thick chains in his hands. She couldn't help the burst of irritation almost tingle across her skin.

"I'm gonna make him make this all right," Daryl leaned in further and nodded his head, his eyes darting from Glenn's to widen momentarily as he saw her stood silently there. "Just needs to be a little forgiveness is all."

She stepped out into the sunlight and saw Glenn glance across at her quickly.

"Oh hey, Carol." Glenn threw her a cautious look, before turning from her and starting to loop the chain through one side of a pair of brown rusted metal gates.

"Daryl's right you know," she said, watching as he glanced back at her. "You need to remember that." She found she couldn't help but stare at him sharply, seeing the flash of regret and embarrassment shift across his dark sullen eyes.

Daryl huffed as he pulled the crossbow onto his back, his hand pulling at the strap. He glanced at Glenn frowning a little, then his eyes fell on hers, and he sighed before brushing his way past the younger man, his eyes narrowing as he stepped across to her. He nodded at her and she knew that was her cue to follow him. Their feet matched step as they walked across the concrete.

"What was that about?" Daryl asked.

"Nothing really. Glenn just needs to make a few allowances."

Daryl looked at her sharply, and she pursed her lips, refusing to say no more, watching as he shrugged. He bit at his thumbnail worriedly, "You ain't seen Merle anywhere?"

They walked towards the fences, and Carol watched as a few walkers surged towards them as they approached, hands gripping at the metal links in the fencing. She turned to him, "No, not since last night, he was taking watch. I was hoping he was with you."

"Ain't seen him all morning," Daryl frowned.

"Daryl, I'm worried," she said suddenly, knowing that was starting to feel like an understatement.

He looked at her, chewing his lip. "Me too. C'mon, he's gotta be round here somewhere, the big dumbass."

They made their way across the prison grounds, stopping when they come to the steps that led up to the workshop. She followed behind him as he pulled the chain linked gate open, pausing when she saw Rick running across towards them, his boots smacking loudly at the concrete as he called out to them. Daryl turned so quickly he bumped into her, and he mumbled an apology before brushing past her.

Rick stood at the bottom of the steps, his hand catching out and resting at the gun at his waist. His eyes were wide and unblinking, "I can't find Merle or Michonne."

...

"He was here," Daryl said as he knelt with one knee on the floor, his eyes scanning the ground about him. He saw a small bundle of fabric and he snatched it up, getting to his feet. Turning it over in his hands, he let the fabric unravel, looking at Rick questioningly as he held up a grimy pillowcase in his hand.

"I changed my mind. Couldn't go through with it," Rick rubbed at his face tiredly.

"And ya didn't think to tell my brother that?" Daryl rounded on Rick, trying to hold his anger in check and failing. Carol watched as Rick took a step back from the glowering man, the fingers of one hand digging into the belt at his waist.

"I didn't think your brother would go off on his own."

Carol sighed, feeling the knot in her stomach tighten. "You should know him better that that, Rick."

Rick nodded curtly, "I tried-"

"You gave him little fuckin' chance!" Daryl shouted as he paced across the floor, holding the pillowcase in his hand. He looked at it in disgust, before balling it up and throwing at the wall. "Shit!" He stopped pacing and stood glaring heatedly at the sheriff, his eyes blazing from beneath his fringe. "Givin' my brother the idea...you knew what he'd do. If anything happens to him-it's on you, Rick."

"I tried to find him, I was going to tell him the plan had changed," Rick hesitantly took a step nearer, reaching out his hand, trying to placate him.

"Didn't look fuckin' hard enough, did ya?" Daryl spat back, shaking his head. "It don't matter. I'm going after him. Gonna bring my brother back. Michonne too."

"I'm coming with you, Daryl," she said softly. Her heart clamored uneasily in her chest and she couldn't ignore the anxiousness that spread through her. She had felt like he was saying goodbye the night before, and now knowing what had happened, she was sure of it. There wasn't any way she could let that just happen. There were too many questions between them and just not enough time to find any answers. She swallowed against the tears that threatened, refusing to allow them any grace. "I'm not staying here, not while they are out there."

Daryl grunted, and she saw the irritation flash across his eyes, the way his jaw clenched tightly. "Ya gonna need a weapon," he answered sharply, glancing at her and she was suddenly conscious of the fact that she didn't have so much as her knife strapped to her waist.

Rick sighed audibly, "I'll come with you."

"I think you've done enough Rick," Carol said as she watched Daryl push past him. She gave him one last tight look before she walked out of the room.

…

"Gonna be quicker if we take the bike," Daryl said as he pulled the heavy duffel bag onto the table top.

Carol leaned against the table opposite him, her hands grasping the edge tightly. "I spoke to Merle last night."

He looked across to her, "What did he say?"

She shrugged sadly, "He wouldn't listen."

Daryl scoffed as he reached into the bag, his hands pausing over the weapons that lay inside. "Sounds 'bout like him." He nudged at her hand gently and she looked at him, her eyes dropping as she saw the pistol in his hand. She gave him a small tight lipped smile and took the gun off him, slipping it into her belt.

"We'll find him Carol," he said quietly, and she couldn't help the sudden tears that sprang to her eyes. She rubbed at her face, hoping that he hadn't seen, but the soft little look he gave her told her that he had. "He's a tough son of a bitch," he paused, glancing away from her quickly, but not before she saw the pain etched on his face. Her heart twisted in her chest and flew out to him, sympathizing and knowing how he must be feeling.

She saw a knife in the duffel bag, still in its sheath and she took it, fastening it quickly to the belt at her waist. Her own knife was back in her cell, but she didn't want to spare the precious time going back to retrieve it. She buttoned her shirt up and tucked it under the knife, the bulk of the weapon feeling comfortable and reassuring at her hip.

Daryl took a handgun for himself and glanced back at her, waiting for her to follow as he strode impatiently through to the outer door of the prison. Stepping out into the sunlight, he dragged the crossbow off his back as they approached the bike. He didn't look at her as he secured the crossbow to the front, instead he threw one leg over the saddle and waited for her.

She took a deep breath and climbed on behind him, watching as he shouted to Carl to open the gates. The bike thundered into life, and she slipped her arms around his waist, holding onto him tightly as they roared out of the prison grounds.

...