Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.

...

"Mommy? Where are you? I'm lost. I'm scared Mommy, and they're here...they're coming-"

Carol rose up quickly on her bedroll, blinking sluggishly and wiping at her eyes, smearing tears that she hadn't known she'd shed across her cheeks. Her breath caught tangled and aching in her throat and deep inside her chest.

It was the same dream. Always the same damn dream. Sophia. Hershel's farm. The barn.

She sat shaking in the still and heavy darkness, with one hand clutching at her thin bedding, her other clasping about her mouth, trying to muffle down the rasping sob that threatened to escape. For a moment she tried to find her bearings in the dark, not wholly remembering that she was in a different place and in a different time and it wasn't until she felt a presence at her side, a hand catching out and gently grasping her did she remember.

Merle didn't say a word- he just caught and pulled her to him and she leaned back against his chest, his one arm wrapping around her, taking comfort in his solid and unyielding presence. The hectic thump of her heart slowed to a more even rhythm, and she took a few quiet shaky breaths-willing that all to familiar panic she felt nearly every time on awakening to retreat to the further most corners of her mind.

His hand brushed at her hair, and as she roused herself from the last tendrils of slumber, she wondered why he was there, why he was so close. He had stayed up to take watch and the last she had remembered of him-he had been nothing more than a dark silhouette against the small fan of flames that had licked up from the circle of stones.

Carol closed her eyes to his touch, feeling surprised by just how much Merle's closeness and presence soothed and reassured her. She had felt that in the past to a degree with Daryl, but it had never been quite the same, and she knew that partly it was because Daryl had always held himself to blame for not finding Sophia, even though it wasn't his fault. Daryl had done more for her and her daughter than any of the others from the original group. It had never been his fault, no matter how much he had held himself accountable.

She unclenched her hand from her bedroll, smoothing her hand away. She again wondered how Merle had been there so quickly when she had awoken from her nightmare, and she then felt a faint smile tug at her mouth as she realized that sometime in the night he had brought his bedroll and laid it close to her own. He always acted so tough, like he never gave a damn -but the evidence that showed otherwise was there for her to see, and it spoke volumes to her.

She swallowed quickly, the tears drying on her cheeks and she pressed her hand to his arm, her fingers curling around and holding him there momentarily.

"You okay?" he murmured close to her ear.

She nodded, words failing her and emotion clogging up the words that she found she suddenly wanted to say to him. She let her fingers uncurl from his arm before gently pushing him away and pushing him back down on his bedroll, "I need to get out for a minute- I need some fresh air." She fought back another sad smile as he grumbled sleepily at her. "I'll be fine Merle, go back to sleep," she insisted.

She rose from her bed, taking her blanket and draping it over him, ignoring his drowsy protests as she got back to her feet.

She wanted and desperately needed sometime to herself before the morning came upon them and they would all be busy preparing themselves to move off and away from the barn. She felt an urge to see the sun rise, to see the new day in.

Tugging her damp jacket back on, she reached to the other side of her bedroll and took her knife, fastening it quickly to her waist. Casting a quick glance over her shoulder-more to reassure herself that she wasn't completely alone-and that Merle hadn't decided against lack of sleep and hot headed stubbornness to follow after her, she paced quietly across the dirt of the barn floor to the door, gently pushing it open and slipping outside, pushing the large door shut after her.

Carol felt a surge of relief as she saw the first rays of sun tentatively lighting up the chilly grey misty morning sky. She shrugged herself deeper into her jacket, grasping her knife firmly in her hand, feeling thankful that the iced filled rains from the day before had finally stopped. A few low guttural moans reached across to her and she sighed in impatience at the sound, knowing that there was never completely any escape or respite from them- the walkers were about the only constant now in an ever changing world.

She silently watched as a female walker turned its head into her direction, long matted leaf strewn hair swaying limply, its nose snuffling softly as it raised its head and caught her scent. Grimacing a little, and feeling that she had a point to make to herself-she approached it, watching for a moment as it ambled over to her. Its gait was slow and awkward, one leg slowly propelling it forwards, its ankle twisted and dragging behind on the hard ground.

Carol took a deep breath and paced over to it, thrusting her knife firmly through its forehead. She had to tug and wrench at the blade to free it, and as the blade finally popped out, she quickly stepped back a few paces as the body slumped heavily to the ground.

There were three more walkers-two in the line of trees several yards to her left, and one solitary walker ahead of her in the open expanse of dried and brittle grassland; although this walker was male and larger than the one she had just killed. She wondered for a moment if this one had once been a farm hand-its denim jeans were soiled and torn about its knees, plaid shirt flapping and ripped, thick brown workboots steadily and rhythmically clomping towards her.

She glanced away from it, squinting at the tree line. Her skin prickled and goose-bumped under her jacket-the fine hairs at the back of her neck rising. For a moment...she had the distinct impression that she was being watched-observed and she looked more intently at the row of pines, frowning at the low mist rising at the bases of the large trees. A quick dash of movement caught her eyes, and she involuntary found herself hastening towards to it, only stopping when she heard the quick sound of footsteps behind her.

She raised her knife, bringing it up ready to thrust, turning and stopping when she saw Merle stood there gaping at her wide eyed. Her blade was less than two inches from were his heart lay.

"For Christ's sake darlin', put yer pig sticker down!" he hissed, stepping backwards. "Shit, I thought ya was gonna damn well fuckin' skewer me."

She lowered her blade, dropping her hand to her side, laughing shakily, "Merle...oh God, I...I thought you were asleep."

Merle frowned at her, tapping the blade of his prosthetic arm against his leg. "Ye really think I was 'bout gonna let ya come out here on yer own, huh? What are you doing out here anyway, mouse?" he questioned.

"I told you, I needed some air," she said, glancing past him and watching the walker approaching them. "I didn't think there would be a problem."

He looked at her shrewdly, "If this is about before, you ain't got nothin' to prove. Not to me. Not now."

Carol dragged her eyes back and stared at him in surprise. For a moment she wondered if she appeared that transparent to him. "How did you know?" she asked curiously, watching as he smiled at her.

"I know ya, is all," he shrugged, obviously trying to not make a big deal out of it.

She stared at him for a while longer, shaking her head, and fighting back a smile as she saw how uncomfortable and nervous he was starting to look. His smile fell and dropped into a scowl, but she knew now it was nothing more than bluff bravado, and her heart lurched in her chest with the knowledge.

"Ain't 'bout to go an' let ya get your stupid dumb ass killed," he groused, turning from her and meeting the walker head on. He thrust his arm at it, dropping the body to the floor, raising his boot and kicking solidly at it. "Ya big pussy assed fucker," he berated the corpse loudly. He gave the body another swift kick, before turning and walking back over to her, his hand coming out and catching hold of her shoulder.

She looked up at him as he squeezed, and glanced back at the trees.

"What is it?" he asked.

Carol shook her head, "I thought I saw...it's probably nothing. Don't worry about it."

"What did ya think ya saw?" Merle followed her gaze, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the thick dense line of trees.

"I'm probably just imaging things," she laughed shallowly. "But...I felt for a moment...it felt like I was being watched."

Merle caught her hand in his, his fingers gripping hers tightly, and he pulled her along with him towards the trees. "If you're thinking that darlin'-there's gotta be a reason. I ain't doubting ya. C'mon, we'll see if there's anything out there."

There wasn't a sound other than their booted feet and the soft sounds of their breathing, their breath steaming out before them in a little smoky wisps. Carol glanced about the trees, feeling the heavy silence and chill seep into her bones.

Merle had let go of her and was now several feet away from where she was stood, leaning over and intently scanning the pine littered ground. After a moment, he pushed himself up to his feet, shaking his head.

They walked for a while, slowly and quietly, constantly watching and looking for any sign of anything. Their boots crunched softly through the frozen pine littered ground, the occasional swish of ice covered undergrowth snapping against their legs.

"There's nothing, Merle," she sighed, bringing her hand up to rub at her reddened chilled cheeks, trying to circulate some warmth back into her skin.

Merle glanced at her quickly, his eyes dragging away and staring through the treeline. He shook his head, a frown marring his face. "Yeah," he agreed, "I ain't seeing nothin'." He sighed after a few moments, "The ground's too frozen for any damn tracks. If some asshole was here, I doubt we'd see it now. An' there ain't been none other signs. C'mon, mouse."

He turned his back to her and strode off, and she followed after him as they trudged back to where they had started from, Merle watching as two walkers changed direction and came towards them. "Look at 'em dumb fucks," he sneered, raising his bladed arm and heading off to meet them.

Carol watched as he raised his prosthetic and quickly rammed it into the throat of one, pulling his blade out and swiping the metal of his prosthetic at its head, ignoring it as it fell to the floor, to thrust his blade quickly through the eye socket of the other. He pushed at it with his boot, kicking it away, chuckling as the body thumped to the floor.

He grinned at her briefly over his shoulder, before leaning down and popping his blade through the forehead of the prone walker laying on the ground, its limbs flailing briefly. He wiped the bayonet on the body, smearing thick dark blood on its filth grimed clothing.

She stared past him, her eyes traveling through the thick impenetrable line of trees. The feeling that she had been watched still prickling at her senses.

Merle caught her eye and he frowned at her. He shifted his legs, stamping his boots on the hardened ground, rousing her abruptly from her thoughts.

"Maybe it was nothing Merle. A walker, an animal-I don't know," she answered, starting to feel foolish. Maybe there hadn't been anything here other than her overwrought imagination playing tricks. She looked up as Merle paced over to her, his eyes drifting back towards the barn, to where the SUV was parked.

She looked in his direction, watching as Michonne loaded up the trunk with their few meager belongings, Daryl leaning with one shoulder to the door frame, a cloud of blue-grey smoke swirling above his head as he puffed on a cigarette.

"C'mon, let's get back before my little brother thinks we been up here bumpin' the uglies," Merle said suddenly, looking at her and smirking, "Unless ya wanna? Hell darlin', I'm up for that if ya wanna cop a feel of ole Merle."

Carol bit at her lip, smiling at him. "Okay, sure. I think I have a whole two minutes to spare you," she teased.

"Wha?" He moved quickly across, pulling her into him and pushing his hips at her. "Ya think this is gonna take two whole fuckin' minutes? I think not sweetheart," he growled. He caught her chin roughly with his hand and lowered his head to hers, kissing her deeply.

Carol honestly couldn't recall ever being kissed quite like that, the touch and sensation hard and wanton, yet full of tenderness. He let go of her after a moment, stroking his fingertips softly across her cheek, and she stood on shaky legs, her breath sitting tight in her lungs. She had to place her hand on his chest to steady herself, and she felt a blush streak across her cheeks as Merle slowly grinned at her.

"Yeah, is what I thought," he smirked. "Ain't no two fuckin' minutes."

He raised an eyebrow at her, then made off towards the SUV, stopping and waiting for her to follow. They made their way together, but Carol couldn't help but glance over her shoulder, her skin crawling uncomfortably, and she found that she still couldn't quite shake off the feeling that she had been watched.

"Daryl?" Merle hissed as they got closer to the SUV. "Where the hell ya get 'em smokes, brother?"

Carol opened the side door of the car and climbed in, but not before she saw the quick grin Daryl shot his brother. "Same damn place you keep findin' 'em, Merle."

"Asshole," Merle rasped as he got in next to her. He gave her a quick sharp look, and shrugged nonchalantly.

…

They traveled a few miles before Daryl was pulling the car up outside a long abandoned motel. Carol glanced out of the window warily, watching for walkers, and she grimaced as she saw a few stumbling haphazardly across the debris strewn parking lot.

"We need'a get some gas. Restock our fuel," Daryl explained, leaning over the drivers seat and glancing at them in the back seat.

"We usually do this," Michonne explained. "There is nothing worse than the next group taking a vehicle out for a run, and finding no gas."

"Ain't no problem," Merle said. "It ain't like we're in any damn rush to get back to the prison." He glanced out of the window, before pushing his door open. "Enough cars out here anyway. You lucked in there, little brother. Jus' wanna hope the unfortunate assholes filled their damn tanks 'fore the world went to shit."

Daryl scoffed quietly before shoving his own door open and stepping out, his boots thudding on the concrete as he grabbed at his crossbow.

The walkers were dispatched quickly enough between the four of them, and Carol watched as Michonne wielded her fine blade, feeling a renewed respect for the other woman as she made the chore seem effortless.

Daryl was tugging the trunk of the car open, and he reached in and grabbed at a length of rubber hosing, slinging it over his shoulder, across the strap off his crossbow. He paused, squinting in the sunlight, before tugging a large Jerry can out. He placed the can on the ground, before reaching in and handing them all their own backpacks, which they all tugged on and over their shoulders.

"Gonna make a start," he said to Michonne, indicating the Jerry can, and she nodded at him in reply.

"Do you think it's worth checking out these rooms?" Carol asked her.

"Maybe," Michonne answered, glancing across the parking lot. "Should take a look at the office, check for keys. That would make this a whole lot easier."

"Ya ain't gonna find any damn thing of any use," Merle grunted, watching as his brother paced over to a large blue Ford sedan.

"We don't know anything unless we start looking," Michonne replied evenly.

"I think that anything we find could be of use. Even if it's nothing more than a few blankets," Carol said, frowning at the little look Merle shot her. "Well? We don't know. And it doesn't hurt to try."

"Huh. Whatever," Merle grunted.

Carol was amused to see that Merle followed after Michonne as she made her way to the furthest building, and she tore her eyes away, pacing across and stepping over a fallen walker body. She held her knife firmly in her hands, watching as Daryl placed the Jerry can to the ground.

"Carol, don't ya come any closer," Daryl warned suddenly and she looked at him, her brow puckering at his sudden harsh tone.

"Why?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at the sounds of footsteps and she watched as Michonne held up a bunch of keys jubilantly in one hand. Her eyes swept past her, and she saw that Merle was trailing behind and looking decidedly shifty. He held a baseball bat loosely in his hand, and she narrowed her eyes at him before stepping closer to Daryl and the Ford.

"Carol-" Daryl warned her again, and she frowned at him, watching as he leaned one arm to the roof of the car, before quickly slamming the door shut and pacing over to where she stood, his hand held slightly behind him, trying and failing to conceal his knife.

"Daryl, what is it?" she asked curiously.

He shook his head, his eyes downcast. He sighed quietly before glancing back at her, chewing at his lip. "There must'a been...a kid there, Carol. I don't want ya to see..." he trailed off.

She made to move past him, but Daryl snaked his hand out and grasped her arm firmly. "Don't. You don't need ta see it. Let me take care of it."

She looked at him and her heart ached at the concern in his voice, the way he stood shuffling his feet and trying his level best to avoid her gaze. "Okay." She wanted to thank him, but words seemed so inadequate. He was still looking out for her, even now. "I guess..." She blinked and swallowed quickly, "I guess I'll go with Michonne."

She glanced up again, and Daryl raised his head to meet her gaze, his eyes blazing a bright vivid shade of blue. She felt tears stinging and burning at the backs of her eyes, and she turned quickly away and stepped back across the concrete towards the others.

"Shit... sweetheart, yer okay?" Merle rasped softly to her side, and she looked up at him-thinking that she couldn't possibly take any more concern off either of the brothers. She made to brush past him, but he blocked her way, looming over and staring at her sullenly.

"I asked ya a damn question. Don't ya go an' shut me out, Carol," he said, and she thought she could hear a faint tremor of hurt in his tone. "My brother say anythin' to ya? Im'a kick his ass-"

"Merle, for Christ's sake," she retorted. "This isn't always about you, or about us...or about any damn thing. Just leave Daryl alone. He hasn't done anything."

"The fuck?" Merle hissed, raising his eyebrows.

She relented at the angry look he gave her and she reached out, grabbing at his prosthetic, her fingers grasping at the warmed metal. He let her hold his fake limb, even though he still looked pissed.

"Ya gonna tell me what the hell that fuckin' was?" he demanded.

She sighed, breathing quickly. "Daryl...he found a child in one of of the cars-"

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry...I didn't know, mouse," he grunted.

"Don't you go apologizing Merle," she smiled wanly at him. "You don't have nothing to apologize for."

"Carol?" Michonne asked abruptly, and Carol found that she was glad of the interruption. "I'm going to start checking these rooms out. You want some of these?" Michonne smiled as she held out the keys.

She was about to answer, but Merle moved away and crossed the distance, "Waste of damn time this," he said, tucking the baseball bat under his arm and taking a few of the key fobs from her. "Me an' Carol gonna go an' check on some of 'em rooms," he paused, before slowly smirking. "Don't ya go waiting up on us now, Mee'chonne."

Michonne rolled her eyes, "I won't. I doubt we got long anyway. Guess that would suit you, Merle. Time being the essence and all of that."

"The hell?" Merle retorted, and Carol couldn't help but smile. She grabbed at his arm, guiding him away from the other woman.

She glanced at the bat, taking the keys that he handed to her. "Any reason why you're holding onto that?" she asked.

"Ain't gotta have a reason," he said, frowning at the look she gave him. "Jus'...this kinda reminds me of an asshole I knew in Woodbury."

"All the more reason to just get rid of it," she remarked, although she felt curious. The night before, when he had told her about the 'biter pits' he had seemed to be letting his guard down around her-even if it was only a little bit, and she wondered if he would tell her more. She wouldn't push him though, not now. If he had something to say, she'd let it happen when he was ready. In some respects he was just like his brother-and she had learnt over time to never push anything where Daryl was concerned.

Merle sighed irritably, glancing across the parking lot. "Ya know, the jackass would use nothin' but a baseball bat. Guns an' crap yeah...but never a knife. Reckon he liked to bash the biter's heads in, that when we weren't fighting in the arena. Dumb fucker."

Carol shrugged, "I suppose he used what he felt comfortable with-like Michonne and her sword."

"It don't matter none. He's probably dead, an' I hope he fuckin' is. He was one of the bastards that turned against me-same as the rest of 'em Woodbury assholes."

"I'm sorry Merle," Carol answered.

"Don't ya be feeling sorry for me. It's old news now, darlin'," he shrugged. "I guess yer right, ain't no point holding on to this shit." He let the baseball bat slide from his fingers, and she watched as it fell to the ground, the thump of the wood hitting the asphalt dully.

…

Carol had to irritably agree that Merle was right all along-there had been hardly anything of use that they'd found in any of the rooms. She was helping Michonne fold and pack up the few duvets and large heavy blankets they'd jointly found that weren't overly mildewed and filth grimed.

Merle was leaning against the SUV wearing a 'told you so' expression plastered across his face, smoking a cigarette and watching them.

"You could help, you know," Michonne glowered at him.

Merle shrugged, the cigarette dangling out of his mouth, and he waggled his prosthetic limb at her. "Ain't gonna be good for shit, Mee'chonne," he smiled.

Michonne ignored him and tugged at the strap of her katana, pulling it off, and she opened the passenger door, leaning in and placing her sword across the seat. She looked up wryly at Carol. "One thing I'm really looking forward to when we get back, is a shower. I don't care if it's cold. I just want a shower."

"I miss my cell and my bed," Carol grimaced. "And to be honest? Yes. A shower right now sounds divine."

"I miss yer cell too," Merle grunted, and Carol glanced across at him, raising an eyebrow. "You mean, you miss your cell, Merle."

"I know what I said, woman," he scowled.

Daryl came across, wiping his hands on the leg of his pants. "I just want summat to damn well eat."

"Ain't nothing changed there, little brother. Yer always damn hungry." Merle dropped his smoke to the floor, and crossed his arm over his chest, his fingers curling around his prosthetic.

"C'mon, lets' get the hell out of here," Daryl said, watching as his brother shuffled his feet, before pushing himself from the car.

Michonne ignored them both as she climbed into the car, and Carol took one last look around the parking lot, her eyes being drawn to the large blue Ford, and what it held inside. She sighed under her breath. She hadn't seen the child, but her imagination was piquing at her. She turned her mind back to the prison and the small community that now sheltered under its impenetrable walls, her resolve firming.

She decided that once she was back, she would throw and immerse herself fully into the care and schooling that the children there so obviously needed. She would further their lessons...and make sure that the children would learn how to defend and look after themselves, properly. There was not point avoiding the issue any more. She would make sure that they were given the tools to survive, something that her own precious daughter had never got the chance to receive.

As the SUV finally pulled off and headed back towards the prison, Carol found that she was looking forward to it.

...