A/N: If you wanted to preserve the previous happy ending in your mind, read at your own peril. ;)

It was just a stupid story. A stupid, fucking story. Something he made up in his head. It wasn't even all that good. He was nowhere near as good as his mama at spinning a tale. Merle was right-he was a pussy. (Wait, that wasn't real either, was it?) What kind of grown man needed a fucking bedtime story?

But sometimes he did need something to block out the day's bullshit and get some fucking sleep. And if he ever needed to block out a day's events, it was sure as hell last night. It was really some kind of fucked up world when the day you fell down a ravine twice, got impaled, almost eaten by zombies, and shot in the head was not the worst day of your fucking life.

He wasn't just a pussy: he was also an idiot. A genuine idiot. There she was telling him something she'd never dared to say out loud. She didn't know. It wasn't just some shit from Shane to justify whatever the fuck he thought they oughta be doing. She didn't know. She didn't know if the one person she loved more than anything in this god forsaken world was still alive. And the reason she was saying it-the reason she physically forced the words out of her mouth, and he could tell it wasn't easy-was to protect his sorry ass.

"What?" In the stable, he had taken a step toward her, and then another, and he had it all planned out in his mind. He was gonna wipe those fucking tears off her face, take her in his arms, and tell her: Hey-you don't need to protect me. I protect you, cuz I take care of what's mine.

What might've happened next was a little more fuzzy. But that first part, he was sure of. And what did he do instead? Started throwing shit and cussing her like an asshole. Hell, he was no better than Ed.

So what if he apologized? Right after he said he was sorry, he did something even worse. Got her hooked on hope again. He was too damned ignorant to realize just what it meant when she said she didn't know. It meant she was starting to let go, or at least trying. And that had to be the hardest thing she'd ever done in her life. It was a hell of an ocean to dip your toe in: my kid is gone forever. And he'd had to go and ruin whatever progress she'd made. Had to stand there like some pansy ass mother fucker picking flowers and bullshitting her until she believed it again-felt it again: Sophia is still out there.

What the fuck did he have to go and do that for? It started out with him just wanting to help a kid cuz no one ever helped him. Or at least that's what he thought. But then it dawned on him. If he told himself the truth, he didn't want to help Sophia so much as he just wanted to see her mama smile.

And there it was. She was smiling and saying she felt it too. She could see it-Sophia was still out there. And there he was standing there like a total dumbass, feeling like some kind of man for getting that smile out of her, but acting like a fucking school boy. He took one of those goddamn flowers-he wished he'd never heard of them now-tucked it behind her ear and finally did what he should've done in the stable. He put his hands on either side of her face, and said, "Carol, I-." Of course it was then that he realized he had absolutely no fucking idea what he was going to say, and luckily, she just said, "Shh..." and let him pull her toward him.

He knew now what Merle would've said. You fuckin' with this bitch's head just to get in her pants? Well, she ain't my type, but to each his own, little brother.

It wasn't like that at all. Besides, they just kissed for fuck's sake. Well, mostly. What the hell did he think he was gonna do anyway? Fuck her on a creek bank while her kid was out there missing? That wasn't the plan. But then again, something about her always seemed to make his mind turn to shit and forget all his plans. And maybe that was the point for both of them at that moment-to forget. Forget they were both half-starved, both of their last living relatives were missing in action, and the whole fucking world had gone to hell.

And for a minute there, it worked. None of that shit existed. He sure as hell wasn't thinking about it. He wasn't thinking about anything. Just felt his fingers threaded through hers, pushing down into the damp grass above her head, his heart pounding in his chest, the soft skin of her neck on his lips...

And then it was like she suddenly remembered everything before he did because he could feel her pushing him away.

"Daryl, wait-"

"I'm sorry," he said, sitting up and pulling her up with him.

"No, don't be. I just-" she put her hand against his face. "I have an idea. Tonight, after we find her-if, that is, I can ever let her out of my sight again. You and I... well, we can celebrate."

It killed him now to think of the look on her face. She was smiling and blushing and her eyes were all lit up, and he knew she fucking believed what she was saying. And that was nobody's fault but his. He had put that goddamn thought in her head because at the time, he was stupid enough to believe it too.

"Well, if you can't-let her out of your sight, I mean-I can wait. I ain't goin' nowhere."

As it turned out, she hadn't been able to let Sophia out of her sight. But not at all in the way they'd imagined that morning at the creek.

He didn't know how long he'd been holding her in the dirt out by the barn. It was getting dark, and everyone else had long since had the decency to wander away. At least she wasn't crying anymore. And thank God she'd stopped making that sound he'd only ever heard from a deer when he hadn't taken a clean shot.

It took him a minute to realize that she had finally spoken.

"...don't you think, Daryl? Wasn't she? Wasn't she almost beautiful? I mean, you could hardly tell, right?"

Yes, Sophia-or whatever the fuck had been Sophia- was almost beautiful. A beautiful abomination. People thought he was an illiterate redneck, but his mama had taught him a few big words in her short life.

"Right, Daryl?" she repeated.

And that's when he felt something in him break. "Yeah," he choked. "Beautiful. You could hardly tell." Suddenly his face was wet and hot, and at first he couldn't figure out why cuz it was getting cold out; and for once, he wasn't the least bit sweaty. Fuck. He didn't want her to see him blubbering and set her off again. But when he looked at her, he saw her eyes were closed. She had actually fallen asleep-asleep in a patch of dry red dirt next to a fucking pile of carnage.

He carefully scooped her up and walked back to the camp outside the farmhouse. For once, no one looked at him as if he had three heads. "You can take her to the RV," Dale said quietly.

"I ain't leavin' her," he said.

"That's fine by me," Dale replied. "Go right ahead."

He had just gotten her shoes off and the covers over her when he heard a faint tapping at the door. "I thought maybe you could use this." Lori's arms were loaded with a pot of warm water, towels, and soap.

"Thanks," he said, taking them from her. He was surprised when she followed him inside. Hell, he was surprised she'd said more than two words to him.

"I'm sorry, Daryl. I really am."

He stood there, not knowing what to say.

"I'm pregnant," she blurted.

"Well, congratu-fuckin'-lations, Lori. I'm real happy for you. What the fuck you want me to say?"

"Daryl, I-I don't know. I'm sorry."

"No," he said. "I'm sorry. I'm really not an asshole."

"I know that." He was pretty sure she was leaving off the word now.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Obviously, not everyone knows yet. And I thought maybe-I don't know. It just doesn't seem fair. I don't want to upset her."

"You sayin' you want me to tell her?" he asked.

"I don't know what I'm saying." She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose hard.

"It's okay. Been kind of a shit day, huh?"

"That's one way to put it. I better let you get some rest." She turned toward the door.

"Hey-Lori," he said, before she shut the door behind her. "Thanks again."

"You're welcome," she said. "I mean that. And Daryl?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad she has you."

Well that was weird. In fact, that might've been the weirdest part of this whole insane day: Lori Grimes treating him like a fucking human being.

He didn't want to bother Carol, but she never moved when he washed the dirt off her face. He climbed in bed beside her and closed his eyes. And he could only see one thing: Sophia.

Carol was right. There in the sunlight, she had looked almost beautiful. But more than that-she looked almost normal. For a split second he knew they were all thinking the same thing-Maybe she wasn't... But that didn't make a damn bit of sense. Of course she was a walker now.

And everyone just froze. Everyone but Carol, and all he could do was hold her back. The rest of them just stood there. Shane, for all his action hero bullshit, didn't have the balls to do anything. Only Rick-the same Rick that had just looked like a fucking neutered puppy doing Herschel's crazy bidding-finally moved. And all Daryl could do was lie there on the fucking ground, first trying to keep Carol from doing something stupid, and then trying to keep her from watching her daughter's head get blown off. Walker or not, that was still her child's brains spilling out all over the Georgia dirt.

Sure, Sophia was already dead. But that didn't make it seem any less like he was witnessing the life drain out of her when that bullet put her down. And he could almost feel the life draining out of Carol too as she struggled against him. The whole damn thing just kept playing on a slow-motion loop in his head, over and over and over again.

So that's when he made up the story, conveniently casting himself as the hero and leaving in just enough romance to keep it interesting. Never mind that it was utterly ridiculous. Sophia was pretty much a goner the minute she left that highway. Whatever. It didn't matter. However far-fetched, the story had done it's job. He got to the part where they were lying in bed together, just like now, but so different, and he finally drifted off.

He woke up just before dawn. Carol was still out cold. He hoped she stayed that way, at least until he got back. He didn't want to leave her, and didn't want her to wake up alone, but he had things to do. He laced up his boots and set out, the whole camp still silent.

She turned over and mumbled into his shoulder. "You're all sweaty."

"Sorry."

"No, it's not necessarily bad." Her eyes were still closed and the corners of her mouth started to curl up, and he knew. She was in that blissful moment between sleep and awake-the one time you really could forget. He watched for three full seconds until it happened. Her brow furrowed, eyes squeezed shut tighter, lips turned down, and oh fuck-the dying deer noise again.

"Shh," he said, pulling her closer. "It's okay."

"No it's not," she looked up at him. "It's never going to be okay again."

"I know," he said. "Didn't know what else to say."

"I'm sorry. All you've done is try to help. It's just-Daryl, I don't know if there's anything left for me to live for."

"You think anybody in this group, except for Rick and Lori, have something to live for?" Let her think he just meant Carl. He definitely wasn't opening that can of worms today. "Hell, Carol, do you realize T-Dog might actually be the last black man on earth? And believe it or not, that don't make me the least bit happy."

He thought he saw just a ghost of a smile cross her face. "You know what?" he continued. "Somebody told me maybe livin' is just a habit."

"A habit doesn't sound like a very good reason to get out of this bed," she said.

"Shit-don't knock it. There was a time when most mornings, only thing that got me outta bed was the promise of a cigarette."

"I've never seen you do that," she said.

"Well, it ain't like they're makin' fresh ones."

"You know, your brother could still be out there," she said.

"You think a mean ass meth-head is gonna give me the will to live?" he snorted.

"But you told me you saw him in the creek bed that day. In your head, I mean. That's gotta mean something."

"Yeah-it means if I'd seen anybody else, I'da just laid there and cried like a baby."

"Even me?"

"Especially you." His lips lightly grazed the top of her head.

"What am I supposed to do now, Daryl?"

"You're gonna get up, put your shoes on, and come with me."

"Where are we going?"

"To say goodbye."

The sun was about halfway up in the sky when they left the RV. It was probably around 10:00, but who the hell knew anymore except Dale with his pointless watch? As they approached the barn, they could see everyone digging. He hesitated, worried that she might freak out on him. But she continued walking toward the group.

"No," he said, grabbing her hand. "This way."

They turned away from the barn and walked up a slight rise in the land. A huge oak tree stood at the top of the little hill. Underneath it sat an old double glider, made of rusty green metal. A few feet from the chair was a child-sized hole, a mound of dirt just beyond it with two shovels resting on top.

"You didn't do this by yourself, did you?" she asked, lightly touching his injured side.

"I had help."

""Rick?"

"Yeah."

He watched her stop in front of the chair, then take another small step forward.

"You don't have to look if you don't want to," he said.

"No, I do-have to." She peered over the edge. "What's that?"

He joined her at the edge of the grave, put his arm around her and looked down at the blanketed form at the bottom. "Maggie had some things laid out. I picked that one. Hope you don't mind." It was a bright blue piece of fleece, covered in white puffy clouds and rainbows.

"I probably would've picked that myself."

He felt her sway a little. "You better sit down," he said, and led her to the glider.

"It's a beautiful spot," she said. "It'll be even more beautiful when the leaves change. Fall was her favorite."

He nodded, not knowing what to say.

"I just don't understand," she said. "I asked Him to punish me, not her. Why would He punish my little girl?"

Her eyes were filling up again and suddenly he felt furious. Not at her. Not at anybody, really. "You can't think about that shit now, Carol," he snapped.

"Look, I know you don't believe, and maybe I don't anymore either, but..."

"Damn, Carol. If any of that shit was true, then looks to me like He did punish you. Your little girl's free."

"You're right," she said, glancing at the grave. "My little girls's free."

"Sorry for barkin' at you like that," he said. "You put up with enough of that shit in the past."

"You know, when Ed died, I thought Sophia and I could start over. Thought with him gone, I could make up for everything. Make up for what a horrible mother I was for staying with him."

"Hey, now," he said. "I ain't gonna let you talk like that."

"But can you imagine, Daryl? Can you imagine how much she went through that I would think the end of the world would be a better life for her? I mean, I let her grow up in a home where seeing and hearing her mama get beaten was an everyday thing. What kind of childhood is that? Do you know how many times she must've seen me cry? She'd always pat me on the hand and say, 'Don't worry, Mama. It's gonna get better.' But it never did."

"Carol, look at me," he grabbed her chin and forced her eyes to meet his. "I can imagine. I do know. Least you didn't die and leave her with nothin' but him."

"Those scars on your back? I saw them that night I brought you dinner."

He nodded and looked away.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"No. I mean-maybe. Someday. Not anytime soon."

"Okay. I guess I should be grateful Ed never hit Sophia. He never laid a hand on her. And I really don't think I would've let him if he tried. Maybe that was the bargain I struck in my mind-you can hit me all you want as long as you leave her alone. But not too long before he died, I could just feel it in my bones that-"

"What?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, her head turning from side to side as if she could shake off whatever thought was in her head.

"No, it sounded like somethin'."

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"You'd better."

"For awhile, maybe a week or two before the attack on the camp, something happened to Ed. He seemed to change for the worse. And even what Shane did didn't fix it."

"What do you mean?"

"He was-well, he was looking at Sophia funny. Different. Kinda like the way he used to look at me when he'd come home all liquored up and get grabby. And not the fighting kinda grabby, you know? I wasn't going to let that happen. Do you understand me, Daryl? I was not going to let that happen. I was working on a plan."

"What were you gonna do?"

"I was planning to... I was gonna kill him, Daryl. There. I said it. If that changes how you feel about me, I'm sorry, but it's true. I'm not just sad, sweet, old Carol. I've got a murderous heart."

"Hell, Carol-that just makes me like you more."

He looked over his shoulder. He could see that the group had finished digging. They were all standing back now as Herschel and Maggie took turns reading from the same book. He knew he'd punch that old fucker's lights out if he tried coming over here with that shit.

"You were a good mother," he said, turning back to her. "That little girl wouldn'ta loved you so much if you wasn't. You'da died for her. You'da killed for her. Can't nobody ask for more than that."

"Thank you, Daryl."

"You wanna say anything to her? I can leave if you do."

"No," she said. "Don't go. I been talking to her non-stop in my mind ever since she jumped over that guardrail."

"You could tell me somethin' about her. If you want to."

"Okay." She thought for a minute. "It wasn't all bad, you know. Sometimes Ed would go off for days. I'm pretty sure he had another woman. Not that I cared, mind you. He could be charming til you got to know him. That's how he suckered me in. Anyway, he'd run off for awhile and Sophia and I would pretend to be the Princess and the Queen. I'd put ribbons in her hair and we'd polish our nails all different colors. We'd have a good time. 'Course I'd have to remember to get it off of me before Ed came back or he'd want to know who I was getting all painted up like a whore for... Okay, that part wasn't so good."

"So tell me somethin' that's just good."

She let out a little giggle, and it was the first time he'd ever heard anything like that come out of her. "What?"

"One time-I reckon Sophia was around two years old. She walked in on me putting on my bra, and she said, 'Mama, you're puttin' on your booby seatbelts!'"

They heard a laugh from behind the tree.

"Come on out here, Carl," Daryl said.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said, peering around the tree. Daryl wasn't sure if that giant hat made the boy look comical, or just fucking sad.

"You ain't gotta call me 'Sir.'"

"Mom says I do."

"Well, I guess you better listen to her then. What's that you got there?"

The boy pulled his hands out from behind his back. One held a shovel, and the other clutched a drooping bouquet of wildflowers.

"I just wanted to help. And I thought Sophia might like these."

"That's real nice of you, Carl," said Carol.

She looked back at Daryl. He asked, "You ready?"

"As much as I'll ever be."

The three of them walked around the grave to the mound of dirt. "What's that?" Carol asked, grabbing a shovel and pointing to a big cloth sack just beyond the dirt.

"Couple things," said Daryl. He bent down and pulled out the doll. "I didn't know if you wanted her to have this or if you wanted to keep it."

She stood there for a long time, just staring at the dirty, forlorn toy.

"I think maybe you need it more than she does," Daryl answered for her, and set the doll aside. He grabbed a shovel.

"Be careful," she said.

"I will," he said, forcefully shoving the tool into the dirt and trying to hide the look of pain that crossed his face. "Don't worry about me."

"Hey," she said, grabbing his arm. "I said be careful. When I told you yesterday that we can't lose you, too... I meant I can't lose you. You know that, right?"

The three of them worked in silence-Daryl slowly, so as not to upset her-scooping and dumping bit by bit until all the loose dirt was gone and the hole was filled. Carl knelt down and placed his flowers at the base of the mound.

"You want us to give you a minute, dear?" Carol asked.

"No, ma'am. I won't be long." He took off his hat and cleared his throat.

Daryl gripped Carol's hand hard, as if the pressure of his fingers digging into her palm could keep her from losing it. She turned to him and whispered, "Don't worry. I think I'm all out of tears."

"I'm sorry you died, Sophia," the boy said matter-of-factly. "Maybe if I'd learned to shoot sooner, I coulda saved you."

Daryl continued squeezing her hand. Maybe she was fresh out of tears, but damn if he was. They watched as Carl stood up, put his hat on, and walked away, not looking back. This was no world for children. He'd tell her tonight about Lori. He didn't think she'd be the least bit envious.

"There's one more thing," Daryl said, reaching into the cloth sack again. He pulled out the clump of dirt and roots he'd dug up early that morning by the creek. It had one bloom left. The Cherokee Rose.

"Her middle name was Rose," Carol said, as they covered the roots with the loose soil. "Did you know that?"

"No, I didn't know."

"It was my mother's name," she said. "There. That looks real nice. Thank you."

"I think she'll like it."

They stood up and dusted off their hands.

"What do we do now, Daryl?"

"Hell, I don't know." He picked the doll up off the ground and handed it to her. "Just gonna live if we can. Gonna wake up tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that, I hope."

She seemed to think about this as if it were a decision to make. Finally, she nodded.

"First thing," he said, "we're gonna move your stuff into my tent."

"My tent's bigger."

"Well, alright," he agreed. "We'll move my stuff, then. Guess I can see who's gonna be the boss."

"I'm not the same person, Daryl."

"You gonna be 'murderous heart Carol' now?" he smiled.

"I didn't say that," she said. "I just mean I'm not the poor, pitiful beaten up wife anymore; and I'm not going to be poor, pitiful Sophia's mother anymore either. I won't be able to stand it if everyone keeps looking at me like that. And if that's who you want to be with, forget it."

"Damn, woman," he said. "I just wanna be with you. I told you I ain't goin' nowhere."

"You sure you can handle it?" She held out a hand to him.

He took it, lacing his fingers through hers as they started back down the hill. "I think I'll survive," he said.

"Good," she replied. "Maybe we both will."