When the sun rose that morning on the third day, Daryl laid in his bed wide awake. The manor was quiet. Peaceful. He stared blankly out the window watching dark clouds taking form, bruising the graying sky as thunder rolled softly in the distance.

He wasn't sure how Virginia compared, but storms in Georgia could be biblical. He remembered being caught in one once, several years back. He had been alone, wanting some peace away from Merle, hunting for game to clear his head. That's when it came. God gave the world below the middle finger and all holy hell broke loose. A lot of people died that day, he found out later. He could have been one of them. He was lucky to get out of that alive.

Stupid thing was, he should have seen it coming. All day the weather had been threatening. The warning signs were there but he had chosen to ignore it. He had been so dead set on tracking his prey that he became completely oblivious to the real dangers in front of him. He remembered telling himself he would never be so careless again.

All this time later, and he hadn't learned his lesson.

There was a note lying open next to him on the bed side table. Daryl stared at it, thinking. The nurse had given it to him just the day before, when he had been lucid enough to read it. By that point, he had found out that Rick and the others had already gone. He could almost hear Rick's voice now as he reached out to re-read his letter.

You were still out of it by the time we left. No one wanted to leave you or Maggie behind, but to stay any longer would've been dangerous. You were right. Our people back home don't know what's coming.

Do NOT leave the Hilltop. I know you. You'll want to go after Carol, but you can't do that. You need to focus on yourself now. Use this time to heal. Trust that Morgan will find her. And even if he doesn't, Carol is a survivor. She's strong. I know she's going to be alright. I don't know what's going to happen next, but I know I can't do this without you. I need you. We all do. So rest up and get better. If anything should happen, we'll send word out to you as fast as we can.

Stay close to Maggie. Take care of each other. We'll be back for you soon.

—Rick

Daryl sighed, dropping the note and rubbing his eyes.

Son of a bitch.

Daryl wasn't fool enough in his condition to go running off on some wild goose chase with no lead or starting point just so he could hopefully find someone who didn't want to be found, but god dammit, it was tempting. He already did that once, and it got Glenn killed. If he went after Carol, who would pay the price for it this time? Rick was right. The others needed him. Carol made her choice. It was a stupid choice, one that broke his heart in two, but from where he sat now there was nothing he could do.

And that tore at him. Deeply.

He wasn't sure how to feel anymore. Should he be angry? Hurt? Or scared shitless? All three, he supposed. If anything were to happen to her... Jesus, he tried not to think about it. He had lost so many people. If he were to lose her, too, on top of everything else...

But he had lost her. She was gone. She had left them all, of her own free will. He thought about that night outside of the church. He had followed her out to the car, the one they had found abandoned on the side of the road. She was going to leave then, too. But he had stopped her. Later she told him it was because she couldn't stand around to watch them die. Now she left because she couldn't kill for them anymore. None of it made any sense.

If she don't wanna kill no more, then she don't have to, he thought. But he knew it wasn't that simple. Whatever was bothering her must have taken root from way back when. Maybe to the prison. Most likely with Karen and David...

They had never spoken about it. She refused to, so he never asked. She must've had her reasons. She'd done it, it happened, it was over. At least for him it was. But some demons stay with you. Regret and guilt weren't things you could easily shake. He knew that better than most. And then there was the girls...

There was just so much he didn't know. So much she had kept to herself. And as his heart sank low into his chest, he realized with a pang of sorrow that maybe it was too late to ever make things right again.

Daryl looked up when there came a knock at the door. It opened, and a woman walked in carrying a small plate and a glass of water. "Hello. Glad to see you up," she said. "I thought you'd might like some breakfast." Helen walked over to the bed, settling the plate and glass on the table. She pulled up a chair and sat down, her hands together in her lap. "How are you feeling?" she asked him. "Answer truthfully, now."

Daryl thought for a moment. "Better than before, I guess," he said.

"You look better. Still a little pale, but definitely on the mend. Your fever's gone, too. All in all, I'd say you're making a fine recovery."

"How's Maggie?"

Daryl had not seen or heard from Maggie ever since he woke up in that room. He was worried about her. This was no time for her to be alone. Helen sighed sadly, her eyes sympathetic.

"She has a rough road ahead of her," she said. "But she has a lot of people who love her, who care about her. I saw that when your friends were here. You guys truly are a family. Not too many people have what you have these days."

Daryl tugged on a loose thread on his sling, nodding passively.

"I don't know your friend very well," said Helen, "and I don't know you very well, but from what I've gathered, I can see that the two of you are really strong people. And I admire you, the both of you, very much. I just thought you ought to know that."

Daryl looked at her. She smiled at him warmly.

"When you see her," said Daryl, "can you tell her I'm thinking 'bout her?"

"Of course. She's asked about you, too. She wanted to know how you were doing. I told her you were going to be ok. And you are. Soon enough, you can get up and tell her that yourself."

Daryl hummed but didn't say much else. He looked down at his lap, picking his nails with his thumb.

"You're in a dark place right now, I know," Helen began. "Our experiences are different, but... I think I know how you feel." Helen took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

"What that man did to your friend, he did the same to someone here. He lined several of our people out by the front gate. He murdered a boy in front of everyone just to prove a point. He was 16-years-old. I knew him. His name was Rory. He was sweet. Helpful. He was taking up an apprenticeship, he wanted to be a blacksmith. He could be a goofy kid sometimes too, you know? He used to call me Hells Bells..." Helen laughed, wiping at her eyes, then sniffed. "That had been a horrible wake up call. And right inside our own walls."

"That's something you don't ever get over," said Daryl.

"What is?"

"Losing people."

Helen watched him, noting the sadness in his eyes.

"We normally burn our dead here," she said. "We stopped burying them a long time ago. But with Maggie's husband, we made an exception. He's been laid to rest in a shaded spot behind the manor. Our blacksmith put together a really nice marker for him. It's got his name engraved and everything. I've almost forgotten the idea of visiting your loved ones after they've gone. It kind of reminds me of how things used to be. Back when we were allowed to mourn. It's got other people talking, too. I think it might be time for us to change our ways around here. Having a grave to visit... it doesn't sound so bad."

Helen smiled again, small and reassuring. She stood up, walking towards the door. "I'll leave you to your breakfast," she said, and with a quick nod good bye, she left the room.

The storm had subsided by the time night fell. Daryl cracked his door open, looking down the hallway. He had grown antsy and anxious, desperate to get out of that stale room of his and go find some fresh air. He needed to take a walk.

Most of the residence had already gone to bed, but there were still a few people hanging around the place. He avoided their eyes as he descended the stairs, his legs wobbly and off balance. He had found an old green T-shirt in one of the drawers and put that on after maneuvering out of his sling and discarding it on the bed. That miserable thing was hot and itchy and he was glad to be rid of it. He knew if Helen found out she wouldn't be too happy, but this whole thing was sort of her fault to begin with.

Daryl had dug his share of graves. It wasn't something he had given much thought to, it was just something that had to be done. Although he had buried many of his friends over the years, he had never gone back to visit them. To mourn for them. The only time he had ever done so had been with Carol...

That had been the first time he thought he had lost her. It was odd, since there had been no body to bury, but they had made a spot for her with a marker, all the same. What a miracle that had been. When he found her in those tombs, dazed but alive, it was like being given a second chance. But those agonizing hours beforehand, when he thought she was gone for good, had nearly put him in the ground right then and there. Looking back on it now, he could see why he avoided visiting graves. It was just too painful.

But whatever Helen had said had stirred something within him. A curiosity. An obligation. A chance to seek forgiveness. He walked across the foyer pushing the door open with his left arm and he stepped outside. The sky was a dark blue with the fall of twilight. He wasn't exactly sure where to go, until he spotted the large tree at the back of the house where the unmistakable shape of a tombstone stood marking a grave. Glenn's grave. He felt his pulse quicken and his feet turned into lead. This time there would be no miracles. No second chances. Glenn was dead. He would not be coming back.

A figure was already kneeling at the grave. Daryl forced himself forward, dragging his feet to stand behind the woman who had her head bowed in silence. He felt frozen, numb, unable to say a single thing as all words came up meaningless on his tongue. The woman seemed to realize his presence then. She stood, and Maggie turned to face him. Her eyes were round and glassy, her expression as hollow as her cheeks. She looked as though she had no more tears left to shed. Daryl's chest rose and fell with each rapid breath. He felt his face slowly crumple. They stood before each other for what seemed like an eternity. And then Maggie took him in her arms.

Silent quaking sobs wracked his body as Maggie held him tight. They were both shaking, but neither one was cold. A soothing warmth began to spread through them. When Daryl finally spoke, it was barely above a whisper.

"I would trade his place..."

"Don't you ever say that."

Moonlight shown down on them through thick, heavy clouds. The pain would be there tomorrow, the next day, even a year from now. But in that moment, in that brief period of time, there was comfort. There was friendship.

And there was forgiveness.