a/n:

I hated killing Carol too, but I wanted to try a different approach and I think her daughter taking her place as the terminator of the group would be so fun, since in the comics Carol isn't nearly as bad ass of a character.

I kinda went that route and killed her off sooner than the prison.

The Governor stood with his hands on his hips, a picture of confident authority as he surveyed the grotesque scene before him. Rows of men hung from hastily erected wooden beams, their bodies swaying gently in the cold wind, like grotesque ornaments on a sinister display. The faint stench of decay lingered in the air, a reminder of the brutal justice that had just been served.

Thick red letters scrawled across their chests declared their sins: Rapists. Savages.

Above them, a makeshift sign flapped in the breeze, reinforcing the chilling message. He turned, catching the uneasy expression on Martin's face.

Who is normally tough as nails. Martin looked pale, his eyes darting away from the lifeless bodies. The contrast between their two reactions was striking; while the Governor exuded dark satisfaction, his second-in-command seemed ready to retch.

"You good?" the Governor asked his tone almost casual, a stark contrast to the macabre spectacle before them.

He watched as Martin swallowed hard, nodding stiffly, but the slight tremor in his lips revealed the truth. He was anything but good. A flash of amusement flickered in the Governor's eyes.

He enjoyed the discomfort.

"You'll get used to it," he added with a shrug, turning back to the spectacle. He examined the bodies hanging from the beams, a sense of satisfaction washing over him. This wasn't just punishment; it was a message to anyone who dared to defy him.

Each figure, twisted and contorted in death, represented a warning to the living. Whoever had carried out this execution had made it clear they were willing to resort to brutality, a language the Governor understood all too well.

"Whoever did this knows how to make a statement," he said, his voice low but resonant. Martin shifted uneasily, glancing again at the grotesque display. "But what kind of people would resort to this?"

"It's barbaric."

"Barbaric?" The Governor chuckled darkly, the sound echoing in the stillness. "This is survival."

"This is the world we live in."

"Compassion is a weakness. Mercy? A luxury we can't afford." He stepped closer, his boot crunching on the gravel, the bodies swaying in a grim dance.

"Fear keeps people in line," he continued, glancing back at Martin, whose expression reflected both fear and a flicker of understanding. "You're either the predator or the prey. And right now, we're the wolves."

Martin swallowed hard but managed to meet the Governor's gaze. "And what about us? Are we not playing the part of the predator, too?"

The Governor smirked, taking a step forward. "Oh, we are predators, Martin."

"But remember, even wolves have enemies. Those who dare to rise against us will find themselves dangling alongside these fools." He motioned toward the hanging bodies, satisfaction surging through him as he took in their lifeless forms. Each one was a testament to his power, a reminder that he controlled life and death in this brutal new world. The tension hung in the air, thick and suffocating, as he savored the fear he inspired.

Martin shifted nervously, but the Governor paid him no mind. He relished the power that came from instilling fear, knowing that as long as he held this dominion, he would reign supreme.

"Come on, Martin. We have work to do," he said, his tone dismissive as he turned away from the grim display.

Harry's heart hammered in his chest as the truck approached the farm, the once peaceful expanse now a graveyard of chaos. Walkers stumbled aimlessly through the debris, their low moans a haunting backdrop to the thick scent of death that permeated the air.

All he could focus on was the camp, their camp, and what might remain. His eyes swept over the tattered remnants of fences and tents, desperate for any sign of movement, any glimmer of life.

They must have fled, they had to have fled.

"Jesus…" Daryl muttered under his breath, but Harry barely heard him.

Panic makes him ignore everything and start shooting out of the vehicle to start sprinting towards where his tent used to stand, stumbling over debris and torn fabric as he frantically dug through the scattered remnants.

"You said you had a group? Why are we stopping here?" Anne asked, her voice a nervous edge of confusion. He could hear Merle snarl something back at her, but the words didn't register. Harry's attention was singular, focused solely on finding them.

Carl. Lori. Sophia.

"Damn it!" he cursed, his hands shaking as he tore apart what little was left of his camp.

"Damn it, damn it!" It had been a stupid mistake.

He'd taken off the bracelet, his one way of knowing they were safe, and hadn't put it back on before they left.

All because of his damned obsession with Randal's group, with revenge.

He had gotten complacent with this stupid fucking farm!

Stupid. Stupid, Stupid!

He should have never left without it.

He let his anger overshadow his family's safety and now…Daryl's voice called out, but Harry ignored it, driven by panic. His fingers were trembling as he dug through the dirt and scattered supplies, frantically searching for the bracelet.

Merle's gruff voice cut through the noise behind him, shouting at Anne to get back in the car, but it barely registered.

His mind raced, his chest tightening as the fear threatened to swallow him whole.

He'd failed them.

Failed to protect them.

'There!', his heart thuds It feels like he can barely breathe as he finally has his hand closed around the bracelet. Desperately yanking it free from the pile, his pulse pounding in his ears. It's with shaky hands that he slips it back on, willing the charm to work, praying to whatever powers were out there that they were still alive.

The soft glow pulsed beneath his fingers, and his mind was flooded with a wave of information: their vitals, their locations.

Carl and Lori were okay, alive, and not in immediate danger, but it was Sophia's presence that made his heart lurch.

She was filled with wariness and grief, but she was alive.

They were all still alive.

Harry sagged against the remnants of his tent, his body shaking with relief so intense that it was nearly suffocating.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he held the bracelet to his chest, a lifeline in the middle of the wreckage.

"They're alive," he whispered hoarsely, more to himself than anyone.

"They're still alive."

Daryl appeared beside him, his crossbow slung over his shoulder as he crouched down, resting a firm hand on Harry's shoulder. He didn't say anything, just a quiet reassurance; he just stayed there, grounding Harry's spiraling thoughts with his steady presence.

He can't near Merle stabbing one of the last stragglers, his mad cackle as he tries out his new hand disguised as a morning star attached to his arm, just without the chain.

Merle, ever brash, came stomping over, kicking a stray walker's head aside as he wiped blood from his knife. "Hell, you ain't the damn Messiah," Merle muttered, his tone gruff but less biting than usual. "They're breathin', ain't they? That's more than most."

Harry wanted to argue, to snap back, but he couldn't deny the truth. They were alive. That was what mattered, even if the guilt gnawed at him, reminding him of the lives that had been lost—reminding him of Carol.

It didn't take long before they found her.

Daryl stiffened beside him, his eyes locking on the far edge of the field. Harry followed his gaze, and his heart plummeted.

Carol.

Her body was slumped against a tree, her clothes stained with blood, and a walker lying beside her with its head caved in. She hadn't been fast enough.

Daryl moved to her side, his expression hard as he gently closed her eyes. There were no words. None of that would make any of this easier.

"I failed her," Harry thought, the weight of it crushing him. His need for revenge had clouded his judgment, pulling him away from the camp when they needed him most. How could he have been so reckless?

The silence stretched between them, heavy and oppressive. Merle stood off to the side, uncharacteristically quiet, his usual bravado muted in the face of their loss.

"Shit show, ain't it?" Merle muttered, but this time, his words held no mockery, only bitter acknowledgment.

Harry closed his eyes, the ache settling in his chest like a stone. "Damn it, Carol…" he whispered, his voice barely audible. He knelt by her body, his fingers hovering over her bloodstained clothes.

The air around him was thick with the scent of death, but nothing felt heavier than the guilt pressing down on him.

He'd failed her. Failed to protect her….

"They're still out there," he whispered, his voice cracking. It wasn't a comfort, not really.

It just meant he couldn't rest. He couldn't stop.

Not yet.

Daryl stood a few paces away, his face hard but understanding. He'd seen too much of this world's cruelty to offer empty words of consolation. Instead, he simply waited, his crossbow resting loosely in his hands.

When Harry finally stood, his body still trembling from the weight of loss, Daryl met his eyes.

"She's out there," Harry said, his voice hoarse as he clutched the bracelet tighter. "Sophia. I can feel her.

"She's… she's afraid." He says through a clenched jaw, she's been lost before and now has to go through it again.

Daryl nodded, his expression grim. "We'll find her."

Harry took a deep breath, steeling himself for what came next.

Fortunately, she wasn't in immediate danger, but her fear and wariness gnawed at him. She was alone and vulnerable, and that was enough to send a surge of urgency through his veins. He couldn't fail her the way he'd failed her mother.

Merle comes closer having finally got the chick to get in, his gruff voice scratching his neck as he stops hovering over him, coming through, brutish and full of sarcasm as usual. "Hey, you two are still chasing shadows or what?"

Harry feels out of his depth when the asshole grabs his hand and pulls his clenched fist apart, running his thumb across the angry crescents, his voice exhausted emotionally. "They are all close, Merle."

"But Sophia's, she's out here somewhere alone."

Merle scoffs shifting around to release Harry's hand and cupping his face forcing it up, he leans in til their noses are about to brush. "You got the girl's trail, but don't go spreadin' yourself too thin."

"I know you want to be fucking Superman, but even he had the justice league. What say I head that way with Bob and the chickies, keep an eye on 'em while you and Daryl finish this spontaneous rescue mission, with a little magic?" Harry's heart skipped, at the way Merle soothed his mind and gave him someone to lean on, a wave of relief washed over him.

As unpredictable and brash as Merle was, he was still someone Harry could count on and trust wholeheartedly. Why else would he even contemplate giving in to their intimidating offer, if he didn't trust them, especially with his heart?

Daryl, always a step ahead, gave a heated look to Harry, his eyes darting towards the rover waiting, and then back, "You good with that?"

Harry nodded quickly. "Yeah." He says a little breathless as he pulls back from Merle's grip, squeezing his hand in a silent thank-you.

"Thank you, Merle." He says and with a moment of bravery he reaches and pulls the bigger man's head down and presses a kiss to his forehead, when Merle pulls back his expression is mystified, "You take Bob and the girls, keep them safe."

"I'm trusting you with this."

Merle gave a half-smirk, brushing it off. "I'll keep 'em in one piece," he said, shooting Daryl a knowing look. "You two just get it done and get back quick."

As Merle turned to head back to the truck, Daryl stepped closer to Harry, his voice low, almost too quiet to hear. "We'll get her. Ain't gonna let you lose anyone else." Harry looked up at him, an unspoken bond tightening around them like a lifeline in the chaos.

"I know," he whispered, feeling the familiar warmth of their presence settle around him.

They wait until they pass the tree lines before he holds out his hand and Harry has to stop himself from blushing when Daryl intertwines their fingers as they walk, with a red face Harry twists on his heel, and a near silent pop noise echoes throughout the woods as they both disappear.

A/n:

Soo… Merle is taking the others back to the group so Harry doesn't have to waste time.

I hope the bracelet thing wasn't too much of a cop out, but I feel it would be realistic for him to be narrow minded like he is when his anger gets involved and even he's only human, he can get complacent too.

I hope the fluff and romance isn't too bad and flows well.