The Present

Carol hadn't wanted to go to the party at first. Aaron had recruited a new group and invited Alexandria's allies to meet them. That didn't interest her, but Ezekiel, on the other hand, was ecstatic. They hadn't met any live people in years. Even the walkers were dying out, decaying like the rotten corpses they were.

Ezekiel had persuaded her, assuring Carol that Henry would need practice leading the Kingdom on his own, seeing as he was eighteen now. He failed to mention his real motive: that he was desperate to keep up appearances. Their marriage had been doomed before it had even begun, but Ezekiel's pride wouldn't let anyone else know it.

Carol's other motive for going was Michonne. Though they saw each other as often as they could, it was good to know she had an ally to speak to, if Ezekiel's presence became too stifling.

Since Rick's death, she and Michonne had grown close, with Carol supporting her friend throughout her pregnancy. She'd tried not to remember what had happened to Lori, things were different now, and thanks to Siddiq's skills, Michonne had given birth to a healthy son.

Alexandria was also thriving. Solar panels provided the town with enough electricity to bake goods to trade with the other communities. If she hadn't left, it would've been her recipe they sold, instead of Barbara's.

But Carol was glad she left. She'd never felt welcome there, not since Rick had banished her from the prison.

Even he was long dead. It had been five years. Five years since Rick died trying to end a second war against the Saviors. Five years since Maggie left to join Georgie in the Commonwealth. Five years since-

No. She can't let herself think about that.

Carol and Ezekiel are ambling through the Community Hall, where Father Gabriel is excitedly introducing the new residents. She scans the room, searching for Michonne, but she seems busy with Rick Jr. So she grabs a glass of homemade moonshine, fakes a smile, and joins her husband in acquainting themselves with Magna, a stern-faced brunette.

"We almost didn't make it," she tells them, "A few miles back, we hit this herd of stinkers," Carol nods, though her false smile is starting to hurt her face, "we tried to turn back, but we couldn't. They were everywhere. We fought back, thinking we were done for, but then this man just appeared out of nowhere."

Carol's heart quickens. She relaxes her face, concentrating her energy on listening to Magna.

"We thought we'd made him up, he was like a guardian angel, mowing down these walkers with nothing but a machete and a crossbow-"

"Where was this?" Carol interrupts, her voice high pitched with anxiety.

Magna narrows her eyes. "The interstate, I guess. In the city, but close to some, um, park. It was a few miles back."

Carol feels as if she might puke. She tries to calm her pounding heart. "Thank you," she adds weakly, desperate to put down her glass. She hurries away from Magna, shaking, needing fresh air. Ezekiel follows her out.

"He is dead, Carol," the King asserts. "You cannot have whimsy because that poor maiden had a vision-"

"That wasn't a vision," she hisses. "It was him. I know it."

When Daryl disappeared shortly after Maggie, Carol spent years searching for him. When it proved fruitless, everyone assumed that he'd died. But she'd refused to believe it. It wasn't only because she couldn't accept losing him. She'd known, deep down inside, that he was out there somewhere. Just as she'd known Sophia was dead before she walked out that barn.

"If it were Daryl," Ezekiel catches up to her, "why would he reside so close, and yet not make his presence known?"

"I'll find out." She's practically running now. Her horse is in sight.

"You cannot leave tonight."

She reaches her horse. "He's out there, Ezekiel. He might not be tomorrow. I need to leave now."

He sighs. Her stubbornness and determination - two qualities that made her endearing were now starting to irritate him. Their marriage is so unstable now. It's practically a facade, but they hadn't been able to lay the foundations for it. Daryl had disappeared just days before her wedding, and in the five years that passed, Carol was often away, searching.

She spent more time hunting for ghosts than she did with the man she married.

Ezekiel had pined for her at first, but then his sorrow became frustration, so whenever Carol was away, the King would seek comfort with Luisa, Nabila's attractive apprentice.

If she chose to risk her life, to abandon her family searching for a dead man, it was only fair he sought comfort elsewhere.

Ezekiel's sure she knows about the affair. She's not stupid, but she doesn't seem to care, and that's what offends him the most. He wonders why she married him. He'd thought her elusiveness was an act. That she was just playing "hard to get", but maybe her heart was never truly in the relationship at all.

She's on her horse now, and he knows he won't be able to stop her. There was only one thing Ezekiel can say.

"Try not get yourself killed."

Five Years Before

After being hurt and abandoned by so many people in his life, Daryl never thought he'd leave.

But he never thought that he'd cause Rick's death. He never thought Maggie would abandon the Hilltop.

He never thought Carol would marry Ezekiel.

During that fall, five years ago, it seemed as if things couldn't get any worse - until they did.

The Saviors couldn't change. They started fights, ignored their posts and put a knife to Carol's throat. He'd tried to warn Rick, but he wouldn't listen, insisting they try.

They had tried. They'd tried for two years, but nothing changed. Nothing could ever change. The Saviors were inherently evil; they could never be redeemed.

Then Maggie and Daryl had found the Oceanside women taking revenge. They could've stopped it, but they chose not to. They were done playing Rick's game.

But he'd found out, and the two had argued, their fight then turning physical. They hadn't noticed a herd approaching. They both tried to escape, but Rick had been thrown from his horse and impaled on a piece of rebar.

It had been a horrible, senseless accident, and it was all Daryl's fault.

Rick hadn't long been cold when the remaining Saviors broke Negan out of his cell. That had been the final straw for Maggie. Enid was the only person she told. She took Hershel and fled to the Commonwealth, joining Georgie as her advisor.

Racked with guilt, and with nowhere left to turn, Daryl had ridden to the Kingdom, only to be greeted by an overexcited Jerry.

"Yo, dude, you heard the good news?" he'd bellowed as he opened the gates, "Carol's gonna be our Queen!"

Daryl had felt bile rise up his throat. His chest hurt.

Carol had told him the King proposed, but she'd said no.

Hadn't she?

Daryl hopped off his bike, chewing on his bottom lip in a useless attempt to calm himself down. His ears were roaring, but at least he couldn't hear the hollow happiness that filled the Kingdom. He'd found Carol in the classroom. She dismissed her students as soon as she saw him.

His eyes were drawn to the ring on her finger. Instinctively, she touched it.

"I haven't had a chance to tell you." She paused, sighing, "Henry needs a family."

He looked down, playing with a cuticle. "M'hmm."

He couldn't say anything else. He couldn't share his guilt with her. Why spoil the occasion?

Besides, Carol definitely didn't deserve a filthy, reckless redneck like him. He'd failed to save Sophia, he'd failed to find the Governor and he'd failed to save Beth. He couldn't control his temper, which had gotten Glenn and Rick killed. All he was good at was failing and killing. Carol didn't deserve that. She deserved someone better. She deserved to be happy.

So Daryl bottled his feelings, determined to try, for her. He stayed in the Kingdom for a few weeks, picking up watch shifts, hunting and teaching Henry to use a crossbow, though the thought of Carol marrying another man made him feel sick to his stomach.

He felt like an outsider, more so than he had at Alexandria. At least he'd known Carol was pretending. She wasn't pretending now.

A few days before her wedding, he'd been scavenging alone. He'd wanted to find her a gift, so he'd headed towards the capitol to see if there were any stores that hadn't yet been looted. He'd had no luck, finding nothing but walkers and rot. He was heading down an alleyway when he saw them.

Two large cylinders of liquefied petroleum gas.

They'd run out months ago, struggling with tiny amounts of corn ethanol. Daryl's bike had just enough gas to get him back to the Kingdom, but this would be enough to take him further.

He could leave, go on the road again, forget about Rick, Maggie and Carol.

She wouldn't need him, he reasoned. He wasn't stupid, he knew she cared about him. But she had a life there in the Kingdom, a family. She was happy. She'd be ok.

She'd understand.

Daryl had headed North-East. He'd never been on vacation, and he hadn't left Georgia until he went looking for Washington with the group.

There had to be more out there. Maggie had joined the Commonwealth, but that couldn't be the only civilization. So Daryl headed towards New York City, his logic telling him that if anyone was out there, they'd be around the Big Apple.

The journey was quiet, time had eroded both human and walker, and as he rode the empty highways Daryl felt more relaxed. He'd missed this, the freedom to follow his instincts instead of obeying what Rick ordered. He felt a stab of sadness, remembering his friend, and ignored it.

It took him a few hours to reach Philadelphia. The city had been blitzed like Atlanta, and the Liberty Bell lay dilapidated and decrepit on the scorched earth.

There were a few walkers about, but no herds, making it easy for Daryl as he wandered towards the Museum of Art. Despite the bombings, it was still standing in its former glory. Rocky had been Merle's favorite movie, and he sat on the museum's stairs for a rest, allowing himself to miss his big brother.

He wondered what Merle would think of him now, running away because he couldn't stand to watch Carol marry another man.

"Yer a goddamn pussy, baby brother", he would've said, "ya should've told that girl how ya felt back at the prison. Yer nothin' but a no-good chicken."

Merle was right. Things had been different then. If Carol hadn't killed Karen and David if Rick hadn't banished her, if he'd told her how he'd felt as he'd planned, he was sure that he would be the one marrying Carol.

Daryl allowed himself to feel the pain, the regret, as he cried, alone, on those 72 steps.

He couldn't cry for long. Startled by a noise behind him, he turned to see a tall, thirty-something African-American woman pointing a Glock 17 at his head.

The woman seemed to waver as she took in Daryl's tear-stricken face.

"Who the fuck are you?" She asked, her hands trembling on the Glock. It had been a long time since she'd seen a living person.

"Don't mean no trouble," Daryl mumbled, raising his arms"Just stoppin' b'fore I move on."

"Where did you come from?" The woman continued, lowering her gun. Despite the stranger's gruff demeanor and rough appearance, he didn't seem dangerous.

"Where did ya?" Daryl shot back at her as he stood up.

"I live here," the woman holstered her weapon and gestured towards the museum. "We've got a small community inside. You're welcome to join us."

"Why?" Daryl frowned. "Ya don't know me."

"I know you're alone."

The woman's name was Aisha, and she introduced Daryl to her four-year-old, Kayla. The girl's cheeky smile instantly reminded him of Asskicker, but he ignored the painful stabs of shame and regret.

He didn't ask about Kayla's father, or lack thereof, and met Michael, an ex-dentist in his early fifties (who served as the group's medic), Maria, a young Hispanic woman with a talent for fencing, and Davey, Michael's teenage son.

Daryl stayed there overnight, thanking Aisha for her hospitality before he set off.

"Where are you heading?" she'd asked, her eyes narrowing.

"North. Gonna see what's out there."

"There's nothing out there." She folded her arms. "I grew up in the Bronx. When the Change happened, it all went to shit. Everyone in New York - black or white, rich or poor, it didn't matter, they just started killing each other." She swallowed, "I lost my family, started making my way down, thought D.C. would be safe..." She stopped as if the end of that sentence would be too painful to speak aloud.

"How many walkers ya killed?"

"Walkers?" Aisha paused for a moment before realizing what Daryl meant. "I've lost count."

"How many people ya killed?"

She recoiled. "Why? Why would you fucking ask me that?"

He could see it was a sensitive issue. "World's changed. We do what we gotta." He chewed his bottom lip. "Difference is knowin' why we killed 'em in the first place."

"I don't understand the relevance of these questions."

"'Cause yer wrong. There are things out there." He continued to chew, "I came from Virginia. There are communities, people workin' together." He paused. "Ya could move there. Be good for yer little girl."

Aisha surveyed him for a moment. "That's where you're from?" She narrowed her eyes. "If it's so good there, why did you leave?"

I never fit in. I got people killed. I lost Carol.

But he can't tell her all that, so he shrugs. "Wanted to see what else was out there."

Neither of them said any more on the matter, but Daryl decided to stay with the group, enjoying feeling useful in a place where no one knew about his past. He figured that's why Carol stayed at the Kingdom. They didn't know her secrets.

A year had passed. Daryl was on watch when Aisha joined him.

"We're running low on supplies."

"Mhmm." He'd scavenged every store, every school and every hospital he could get to, and though Daryl brought fresh kills when he could, the group had run dangerously low on food, water, and medicine.

"Do you think you could introduce us to your old community?"

Daryl's blood ran cold. He couldn't answer.

Aisha had expected this. "Before the change, I was a therapist," she began. "I'm good at reading people. I know something must have happened, something bad." She paused. "I just wanted you to know I'm happy to listen if you ever wanted to talk about it."

I can't talk about it. I won't. "I'll take you there," he grumbled, "but I ain't stayin'."

Daryl's LPG canisters were used up on runs, so the group left on foot. The journey through Pennsylvania was fairly quiet, besides a mild bout of food poisoning, but as soon as they left the state it all went South.

Michael developed a cough but dismissed it as nothing, powering through despite his worsening health. No one knew he had pneumonia, no one thought he might die, no one knew he'd turn in the night and devour his own son.

Maria had been on duty, but she'd panicked, fleeing as soon as Michael turned. When Daryl woke it was too late. He tried to find Maria, but she'd run into a group of walkers and suffered the same fate.

Despite the shock, Aisha, Kayla, and Daryl made it to Virginia. They were about ten miles away from Alexandria, and they'd stopped in a nature park so Daryl could hunt.

He'd been gone about an hour and returned with two squirrels, but the girls weren't there. He followed their tracks towards a lake and heard Aisha wailing. He ran towards her, stopping suddenly when he saw what was in her arms.

She was holding Kayla, but the little girl was soaked, and her skin was gray.

He felt his chest tighten as grief for the child, grief for Sophia and grief for Carl hit him all at once. His instincts soon took over as he rushed to Aisha, gently offering her his machete.

"No!" she screamed. "She's my baby!"

He chewed on his lip, trying to shake off the memory of Carol running toward Sophia when she came out of that barn. If he hadn't stopped her from getting too close…

"Ya gotta," he urged softly. "Ya want me to do it?"

Aisha shook her head, sobbing. "My baby, my baby…"

Daryl tried to turn Kayla's head closer, so he wouldn't risk hurting Aisha, but she pushed him so hard he fell to the ground. He stumbled back up, hearing a faint growl from the child.

He was too late. She'd bitten Aisha's abdomen before he could reach them.

Daryl cried as he put Kayla down, holding Aisha as she bled out. He'd come to respect her as a friend, an ally, but he'd failed her, just as he'd failed Beth and Sophia.

"S-sorry," Aisha gurgled, "I-I c-c-couldn't."

After putting her down, Daryl buried them in the woods, unable to contain his emotion. He'd been trying to save them, give them a better life, but he'd just got them all killed, just as he'd gotten Glenn killed, just as he'd gotten Rick killed.

Desperate, depressed and despondent, Daryl took Aisha's Glock. His hands trembled as he raised it against his head.

"Ya no-good, useless piece of shit!" his father's words echoed through his mind. He may as well end it now. He'd tried, for so long he'd tried. He didn't think he could take any more pain. He was nothing, a no-good nobody. He'd do everyone a favor if he just ended it now.

Daryl's finger hovered over the trigger as entire body shook. He imagined Merle, standing there, laughing at him for being a "pussy" over his "own goddamn suicide".

Then he remembered Carol. He thought of her tears when she had found him in the stables and begged him not to risk his life again.

I can't lose you too.

He remembers the way her smile accentuates the dimples in her cheeks and lights up her eyes. He remembers the softness of her touch and the scent of her strawberry shampoo.

I don't want you to die.

He envisions her stumbling into the woods and finding his body clutching the Glock. If it were reversed, if he discovered Carol had taken her own life, the thought would hurt more than all his other anguish combined.

I couldn't lose you.

How could he put her through that? He couldn't. He wouldn't.

Daryl dropped the Glock and continued through the woods.

He was so close to the Kingdom, but he couldn't go back, not now. His pain was too great. He needed to find somewhere where he could be alone, where he couldn't hurt anyone, where he couldn't lose anyone.

On the outskirts of the woods, he found a shack. It reminded him of the one he grew up in, and he chuckled, unable to help it, he was giddy with emotion now.

After everything he'd been through, he'd ended back where his story had begun.