A/N: It's been a while. This is shameful to say, but no, this is not a Dark Knight Rises installment. I'm truly sorry. This is my first attempt and probably my only attempt at a The Walking Dead fic. Oneshot.

I hope you enjoy.

"Coffee grounds and egg shells can grow plants?"

Carl sat on a cold steel chair they had found in an office not too deep past their lodging point when Carol had confirmed that used food remains could indeed grow food. His tone was bored, but the conversation she had maintained with him gave her hope. Her fingers pushed gently at the edges of his hairline as she checked that all of his hair was even. The shears in her hand were cold against her skin, but that was due to the weather that never seemed to remain outside. The cold always crept in.

Carol chuckled lightly as she nodded from behind Carl. "Sophia and I used to plant tomatoes. Though it's unsure if the plants will grow just as well here, considering that we don't have as much fresh remains. Living off of canned food for months…" She trailed off as she snipped more around his ears.

Carl was silent as well and the only noise was that of the metal shears, cropping the hair of the Sheriff's son. Carl didn't particularly talk much anymore. He wasn't a doe eyed child as he once seemed and Carol knew why. She didn't blame him. She understood his motives. His behavior. She didn't like it, but she withstood it.

Her face was graced with a thin-lipped smile as she contemplated saying anything else to Carl. He was sitting here for one purpose. His hair was positively too long. She had Beth talk him into letting her cut it. Beth had a way with words. Carl had a way of listening to her.

And still, it was that time. The unanimous hair cut day of the month.

All besides Michonne sat and let Carol or Maggie or Beth groom their hair. It was Carol's round. It was mostly a quiet practice. Glenn chatted pretty enthusiastically earlier about finally finding books on his last run into town, Rick talked about safety precautions, Hershel told Carol about a time when he read a story in the Bible and how he used the contents of it to talk a man out of suicide at the local bar. Maggie didn't need a haircut, saying she wanted to grow it out a bit more, have material to pull back when she was out killing Walkers. All had been finished but a few.

And now Carl sat, stoic and alert, gripping his Sheriff hat firmly between his fingers. Carol circled round front and knelt to one knee as she pulled his bangs down to see how far they shadowed his eyes. Carl shifted slightly in the cold metal chair, inhaling a long breath. Carol watched the tips of the shears as she slowly cut the hair around his forehead. The small hairs wedged themselves between her fingers and flaked onto his cheeks causing Carl to scrunch his nose. Carol pulled the scissors away from his face and into the back pocket of her pants as her fingers reached up to brush away the hairs on Carl's face. Her eyes found his steely blue ones and Carol retracted her fingers. He looked at her for a long minute and she didn't redirect her gaze. She wondered what he was thinking about. Whether he was mad or at peace. Carol's face softened as she looked at him.

"You did good clearing out the fences yesterday." Carol spoke in a soft tone, but the ongoing silence that had previously lasted made her words feel like a terror cry.

Carl didn't even blink. "It had to be done." His tone was shallow. Emotionless.

"Carl."

The sound of his name sparked something in his eyes yet he did not move. "Yeah?"

"Carl." She repeated, emphasizing his name. There was a long pause before she continued. "Your father needs you. Judith is going to need you. You have every right to be angry with the world, but don't be angry with them."

Carl's face became stiff as he understood. His shoulders lifted as his guard returned and he sniffed and tilted his head a bit. It reminded Carol of Shane.

"Can I go now?" His tone and question didn't seem to be aimed as rude, but it felt harsh. Like he wasn't going to have her telling him what to do. He wasn't going to have anyone in charge of him.

Carol sighed, her lips lifting in an attempt to smile. "Yeah, Carl. Will you send in Beth, it's her turn next—"

"Beth's feedin' Asskicker. I'll go next."

Carol turned her head to glimpse his form, lean and squared, as he set his crossbow down as silently as he could manage on the prison floor. She felt Carl move from his sitting position and pulled the trash bag that she had used to shield him from his cut hair from his body.

"Thanks, Carol." Carl hadn't forgotten his manners, though she wished he would. She wished he would show his emotions.

Carol stood and gripped the bag from Carl and nodded.

"Your dad's been asking for ya. He wants your help lettin' Glenn in through the gates when he and Maggie return while he scouts for Walkers." Daryl commented, his gaze seeming to look past Carl, as if he was distracted.

Carl nodded and left quickly, placing his hat back on his head. Carol listened to the sound of his boots echoing down the hallway.

Carol brushed at Carl's hair on the dusty floor with her fingers as she made a pile and picked it up to put it with the others. She gestured with her elbow for Daryl to sit, avoiding his gaze. He watched her move to the side of the room and dispose of the hair, not taking his eyes off of her as she returned. She brushed her fingers, trying to get the hair to dislodge from between them.

"How short do you want me to cut it?" She asked quietly. She pulled the shears from her back pocket and rested them against her palm as she waited.

"Ain't got any preferences." His voice edged, his eyes found a spot on the wall as he quietly waited for her to start. Carol sighed silently and ran her fingers through his hair. She snipped at the back of his neck, trying to keep some of his brown locks long enough to curl. She liked it that way. She would never say it aloud. His straight hair was not a problem to estimate. It laid flat regardless so she didn't have to wonder how it would dry. His hair was thick with sweat from being outside, but hygiene matters were long gone. His scalp was heated and she could feel a long day's work at the edges of his skull.

She didn't notice how her nails scratched softly below his ears as she pushed his locks behind them, but he did. She didn't recognize the burn of the cold metal shears pressed behind his neck, but he did. She was nearing the end of his turn when he shifted slightly, seemingly annoyed.

She turned to kneel before him and crop the hairs draping his face as she had done with Carl, though Daryl's were much longer. Her soft fingers felt like iron bars pushing his hair away. Her lips were tense and her breathing seemed controlled. Daryl stared at her while her eyes looked anywhere but. He exhaled suddenly; impatiently.

"Did Carl say somethin' to you?" He very nearly growled, the irritation thick in his voice.

Carol flinched slightly. "No," Her warm breath by his cheek made his fingers curl as she neared closer to examine and check that her work was even. It irritated the shit out of him. The raking of her fingers told him that she was finished. "Why?" she asked.

Daryl clenched his jaw and exhaled loudly. "Are you gonna tell me what the hell I did this time? I ain't the guessin' type."

Carol moved the scissors from his head and frowned slightly. "What are you on about now?"

"Don't bullshit me, Carol." His voice was fire, a flame unruly as it rose. He turned his steely gaze to her.

Carol's frown deepened, not because she couldn't guess what he was hinting at, but because she really honestly didn't want to talk about it. She stayed quiet which only infuriated the man that sat before her. His stare was leaving scars in her skin, she could feel it.

He growled many profanities under his breath and shook his head, sending her a look of judgment before he turned again. He stood up and stormed over to his crossbow, picking it up quickly and slung it over his shoulder. "It wasn't easy, dammit…" He trailed off as he turned his eyes to the window. "I— I didn't choose—"

He turned to look at her and thinned his mouth when he saw the way she looked back at him. Knowingly. That damn look. It never left her face.

He turned, then, and left. Carol stood rigid in the center of the room, her lips parted, perhaps not in shock, but in pain. Her shaking fingers gripped the scissors tighter as she pushed them in her back pocket again. Beth wasn't coming, she was helping Judith. Carol breathed in a shaky breath.

She turned to clean the remains of Daryl's hair. The words were thick on her tongue, but she didn't have the patience or the audience to say them.

But you did.

Bullets missed her by layers of thick muscle and bones. Someone else's muscle and bones. She didn't have much time to think of the heat the sun had caused the prison floor to be. She didn't think about how dangerous this angle was, and how exposed her limbs were to the bullets flying past her second after second. She only had time to pay attention to her breathing, which wasn't the least bit stable.

A bullet ricocheted off of the hard floor just above her head and she let out a yelp as the dust of the impact rained on her and Axel.

Axel was dead. All the bullets sliced into him. He wasn't coming back.

Her hands helplessly tried to shield her face, though she knew it would be no use. It was habit. Habit to protect what she could. After Ed, she figured that this technique would live with her forever.

Beth and Carl sprinted to the wall, amazingly dodging each bullet that came for them. Carl readied his weapon and looked over to Carol, a look of panic staining his expression. He watched her helplessly try and hide her body even further into the ground. Carl locked eyes with Carol for a second, her panic just as strong as his.

"Beth!" Maggie's shout rang through the block as she ran forward with guns to hand to her sister. The bullets then rained upon her, missing her by inches. She fired back, aiming her weapon purposefully for the watch tower. Carl then moved his gaze from Carol's to shoot the person shooting at her; at Maggie.

Maggie ran for a thick filing cabinet to take shelter behind, quickly reloading her weapon and aiming once more. Carol twisted her head, looking for someplace, anywhere, to do the same.

"Carol, Go!" She screamed.

Carol's limbs lifted her body with amazing force and she was running to that place, anywhere. She was running straight to Beth, who handed her one of the guns Maggie had given her. There was never ending firing, from every location. Carol's gaze scanned the gates, turning her head to look at Maggie who was crouched low.

Her blood was pulsing. Boiling inside of her.

And then it stopped. There was no more gunfire. Carol didn't have time to frown, she still felt Axel's blood starting to dry on her cheeks; her lips.

Then the sound of a vehicle approaching graced her ears and she turned to try and find its origin. Glenn had left, gone someplace. Maybe he was coming back now. Carol prayed that he would make it through the gunfire safely. Then the sound of the chains holding the gates together shattering apart sent a chill through Carol because then she saw it, the vehicle, the masked person, the Walkers.

The Walkers were inside.

"Daddy!" Beth whimpered. Hershel was out in the fields, crippled and few yards from the Walkers. Then the shooting began again. Carol fell to her knees and let the wall behind her support her back. She turned to fire as many rounds as she could up to the tower, then Carl took his turn once she turned back. Maggie fired again, her face horrified for her father, when she hit her target. The man in the tower fell backwards.

"Hershel! Get the hell outta there!" Rick's distant call caused Carol to look in that direction. She noticed walkers creeping behind Rick. Carol wanted to scream for him to get out of there when he turned, firing each one in the head. He began running when he noticed how many were advancing.

Carol watched men, the Governor, return to their truck. The Governor fired off multiple rounds, a telling sign that he would be back, before he drove off. Carol watched the distant form of Rick running when another walker came at him from the front, cornering him.

Maggie, Beth and Carl ran to the gate and Carol followed. She needed to get to Rick, kill the Walkers in the field before they got to Hershel. She assumed the others were going to do the same. So they spread out, found their targets and fired.

Rick was trudging through the high grass, slamming the blunt end of his gun into the skulls of the Walkers. Carol took out three Walkers with her gun when she saw Michonne running through the field, her Katana low and ready. She took out each one effortlessly. Then she heard Rick groan in frustration and fear as two walkers advanced in on him. He grabbed one by the collar as it started to snap at his neck and tried to keep it at a distance. Carol's fingers were shaking. She was ready to turn on her heel to run to Rick, but she noticed a Walker coming towards her and she cursed silently as she raised her gun and tried her best to aim at him, all the while her throat tight with the thought of Rick struggling. She needed to get to him, someone needed to save him. The Walker coming her way dropped as she managed to shoot it clean through the brain, then she turned her head quickly to look back where Rick was.

And there he was, reloading an arrow into his crossbow as his brother ran yelling with a long metal bar in his hand towards the nearest Walker. Daryl was… he came back.

Carol felt the inside of her stomach crawl with something painful and enticing. She had lost her ability to breathe, she recalled. And then she saw him and Merle and Rick take down every Walker within sight, and she heard Michonne yell to Glenn as his car came to a stop and they both helped Hershel inside of the truck.

Maggie started to run back to the gates where the truck was nearing and Carol, Beth, and Carl followed. Carol was breathing heavily through her mouth and she kept turning to glance back to where Daryl stood, almost not believing that he had actually come back. Once she was inside the gates, she moved to safely watch them, the others standing beside her, looking out amongst the Walkers. The gunfire had attracted countless others.

But Carol's eyes weren't fixed on the Walkers. They weren't even fixed on Rick who, just moments before, was nearly killed.

No, her eyes were firmly fixed on Merle.

Carol raised her shaking fingers to her face, embracing the feel of the warm liquid in the washcloth as she wiped Axel's blood from her face. She wondered if one of the men had gone down and taken his body away already. Carol's jaw trembled as she wiped slowly under her jaw.

Carol remembered all of the bullets connecting with his body and she felt ice pierce her spine. Axel didn't deserve to die like that. She became enveloped with emotion and she leaned forward slowly and cradled her head in her hands. There were sobbing noises ejecting from her throat and she felt her entire body shake. She hadn't had time to feel it then. This was fear. This was sorrow.

Her fingers slid past her eyebrows and pressed lightly at her lips as the tears continued to roll. The others were down and about, changing their clothes, cleaning up the outer yard, fixing wounds, deciding Merle's fate…

Carol swallowed complicatedly.

Merle and Daryl entered the gates with Rick and there were many reactions the other members had, but Carol watched Merle's. His face was a hard stone, smirking deeper as there was only further uproar. Yet, through all of his hard edged physique, she noticed a certain unsettling manner. Like he was unsure of what to do. And she had never seen him act so. His eyes kept flicking to Daryl's whose were fixed strongly on her. Carol turned her gaze to his and quickly looked down, inhaling sharply and unsure of what to say or do. Then she raised them again and gave him a long stare, trying to maintain her posture. Daryl fixed his jaw as the reality of Glenn's protests brought him back to focus on those around him. Carol dropped her eyes once more and fiddled with the strap of her gun as she took a step backwards, ready to get out of the heat and back inside.

But it seemed that no one would move until Merle was either safe or gone.

Carol sat up straight in the cot as she remembered that that confrontation had happened many hours prior. She kept clear of all of them, trying to keep her opinion to herself unless she needed to speak. No one was willing to listen anyways. While Merle was locked in one of the cells, Daryl's only focus was on those around him, trying to have the others understand that he wasn't letting any of them make Merle leave.

Carol left for her cell later, finding that the silence and singularity of it was much more comforting than having to feel the stone in her heart. Because she still felt it, the pain, as well as the questions and accusations that she wanted to hurl at him. But she also wanted to feel his skin on her fingertips to allow her a sense of his realness. That the phantom emotions dwelling inside of her telling her that he had returned were not smoke that would vanish.

But she didn't want to see him, she told herself. He had other things to do and so did she. She would take care of Judith, she would help Beth cook and clean. She would do her part. Given time, she would visit him. She would say what was on her heart. Then she wouldn't speak another word of it.

"He's your brother, but he's not good for you." Daryl watched her with uncertainty. Carol's face was stern, though it showed a softness that she always had. She even smiled. She wouldn't leave without saying her piece. "Don't let him bring you down."

Staying out of the way soon became a habit of avoiding and Carol had become pretty damn good at it. She was afraid of what she might say and of what he might feel the need to justify and she just didn't want to have to deal with something as such. It wasn't that she wasn't around him, it was just that she didn't really necessarily talk to him nearly as much as before. Daryl was the only thing she had to hold onto, yet she was removing her fingers from that support.

Three hours soon turned into three days of barely spoken hellos and tiptoeing around subjects and soon, Carol could feel Daryl directing every path of movement and everything he did into an opportunity to speak with her. It had been the longest that he had been around that she didn't speak with him. She had to have known that he would suspect something was wrong. She wondered if he already knew.

Carol found more chores within the cell walls to occupy herself with, preferably the ones where she could be hidden inside of a room without his watching eyes on her. Rick needed Daryl more than ever these days and Carol was glad for it. She hated herself for having to admit that, it made her stomach crawl.

But Daryl was getting irritated with her. She could feel it. She didn't see much of him one day and she began to think it was because he was mad that she was avoiding him rather than the fact that she was taking up so many chores elsewhere. But Carol knew best. Daryl wouldn't just come looking for comfort and he sure as hell wasn't going to come seeking her out in front of Merle.

So when Daryl had found her after she had just finished clipping Carl's hair, she knew that running away wasn't an option anymore. Sure she could call in someone else to do the task for her but that was senseless and unneeded. It would make her look even more like a coward.

"Are you gonna tell me what the hell I did this time? I ain't the guessin' type."

The way that Daryl looked at her then told her that she knew he knew exactly why she was so distant. He just wanted so desperately to be wrong. He couldn't bear it any longer.

When he left her with his final words, "I— I didn't choose—", the way he said them made her feel like he could have said them any version possible.

"I didn't choose Merle over y'all."

"I didn't choose y'all over Merle, ain't no other way to say it."

"I didn't choose this! Get off my back, woman!"

"I didn't choose to stay here with y'all."

"I didn't choose."

The last one made her chest ache. Because it made her realize that perhaps Daryl didn't necessarily choose at all. That he was torn; conflicted. That just because he had walked away, didn't mean that he had left. He didn't want to be told that he needed to pick one over the other. Carol could see how much each of the members of the group meant to him, no matter how insanely deep he tried to hide it inside of himself. She didn't want him to have to live with that pain.

And she wasn't trying to make him do so. Couldn't he see that she was doing this for him? That this was her silent way of telling him that he didn't have to explain? That she understood? That she was not angry or jealous or insecure enough to talk to him. That she just didn't know that what she had to say was enough to sway his attention away from his brother long enough to focus on her. Things were different now, things were testy. She knew that with Merle here, Daryl wouldn't give all of his loyalty, his trust, his affections to anyone more than he would give it to Merle.

She understood that. She didn't love the fact, but she did not disrespect it.

Daryl wanted Merle around, that was obvious enough. He was just going to have to understand that in order to let him have that, she was going to need to isolate herself from him.

Andrea had returned not long after the prison attack. Carol rushed down to greet her the moment she heard and found the familiar blonde hair swaying as she spoke heatedly with Rick. And for a second, it felt as if nothing had changed. After the debate was over, Andrea made her rounds talking with each person that she saw. The look on her face told Carol that Andrea wasn't sure she would ever see these people again. Carol felt the same about her.

Andrea's fingers brushed through Carol's growing hair as she hugged her tightly. She had missed Andrea, it would be wrong to lie about it, though Carol wasn't happy about the side she had picked. It wasn't until later that she commented about it.

"You need to sleep with him. Give him the greatest night of his life." Andrea turned her gaze from Judith to look appalled at Carol. It seemed that long before Carol would never talk of anything like that. Which was indeed true. Carol's face was patient as she explained further. "Get him to drop his guard, and then when he's sleeping, you can end this."

Andrea's lips thinned and there seemed to be a thick understanding surrounding them both. It was time to fix things.

After Andrea had left and Carol had laid Judith in her crib to sleep and Rick had come to check on her, Carol left and walked down the stair case. Her fingers trailed down the railing as she noticed that almost everyone was either elsewhere or sleeping. Her lips turned into a small smile as she left for her cell. Hopefully tonight she would sleep soundly.

She turned her head looking around the cells when her eyes found his. And the way he looked at her told her that he had heard her conversation with Andrea.

"What about T? Carol?"

The question rang in his ears like a fucking siren. He looked at his surroundings. Pain, blood, horror. It stained all of the walls.

The scarf—her scarf—was stained with blood, lying cold on the prison floor. Daryl picked it up with clenched fingers, his gut twisting. He knew what this meant, he knew it all too well.

His jaw was tense, trying to swallow the information he needed to process. Fuck it. Fuck it all.

"They didn't make it." He breathed.

She was told that the grave was hers not long after she was rescued. She could see it whenever she went outside. The sun had warmed the soil beneath her fingers now as she sat before her grave, staring down at the dried flower placed delicately in the middle of the stone circle at the center.

The sun dried and browning Cherokee Rose.

Of course he had visited her grave, did she really believe it otherwise? She did her best to be there for him. He knew how much she cared about him and perhaps he had cared just as much back. The rose was proof enough. She had done all that she could to help him; her friend. She only hoped she was as good a one to him as he was to her.

She stared down at the flower as she ran her fingers through the dirt, letting it get deep under her nails as she pressed it lightly further into the earth. She couldn't help the tears falling, yet she didn't mind them. T-dog had saved her. Endured terrible pain to ensure her a chance at freedom. She inhaled raggedly as her lip trembled at the memory. Poor T. He was always so nice to her; to Sophia.

Carol let out a shaky groan as she began to let the emotion control her. Everything was slipping from her fingers. That young girl, Andrea's sister, Amy, she was dead. Dale was gone too. Same with T-dog and Lori. And her baby girl, her darling Sophia. When she walked out of that barn of Walkers back at Hershel's farm, she felt like someone had just slammed her in the face with pounds of empty days ahead. She felt like she had been ripped apart watching her daughter growl and hungrily walk towards Rick.

Carol let her head fall back towards the sun as she inhaled tiredly. The tears were still wet on her face, but the sun promised to dry them. She was right after all, what she said to Lori and Daryl that day in the RV. Her daughter died a long time ago.

She looked back down to the Cherokee Rose beside her and she reached out hesitantly to touch it. It was crisp under her fingers. She brought it up to the level of her eyes and she used her free hand to messily wipe her cheeks.

Daryl was a good man. Good to her and to everyone around him. He was brutally honest and cared with an intense passion. He contributed; he did his part. He was quiet most of the time, but he never bit his tongue when he had something to say. He went out of his way to help her months prior when they were looking for Sophia. Seemingly the only one who didn't lose faith.

Carol felt more tears roll down her cheeks, but she bent over and smiled. Smiled because she adored that about him. No one made it his priority or obligation. And something about that made her chest swell. Her peaceful smile never left her lips, even as she stood up and placed the dried flower carefully in her jacket pocket, cautious not to ruin it. It felt like a stone in her pocket, but a stone that kept her grounded. Grounded to her beliefs in the good in people. Beliefs of a man of honor.

She didn't turn to look back, but she wondered if the tears she had just shed would soon grow into beautiful Cherokee roses when the sun rose the next morning, proving that there was still beauty that could grow.

There was a clattered noise as something hit the floor then the ring of Carol's cry filled the air. Daryl ran as he heard her exclamation and found her in the kitchen, her body slumped on the floor as she cradled her hand. She had sliced her finger with the knife she was using to peel the skin off of one of the squirrels he had brought back for the group.

"What happened, are you alright?" Daryl reached her side and gently put a hand on her shoulder and reached for her hand, but she jerked it away quickly, causing Daryl to flinch.

"No! Don't touch me!" Carol was sobbing now.

Daryl frowned at her. It was just a cut on her finger, he knew Carol was tougher than this. "Carol—"

"That wasn't fair!" She stood up and turned away from him, searching around for a towel or something to dry the blood off of her finger.

Daryl neared closer to her. "You ain't the first person to get a little cut up while gutting a squirr—"

"You left us, Daryl." Carol had her back to him and her shoulders were raised as she braced her hands on the counter. Daryl stopped moving closer to her and Carol knew that he wasn't moving anymore. She thought she heard him stop breathing too.

Good, she thought.

"Rick had to tell me." She shook her head as the tears began to blind her vision. "You didn't even have the damn decency to tell me yourself."

Daryl felt rigid. Like she was sending electricity through his veins. Paralyzing him.

Carol's voice was thick and Daryl knew she was crying now. "Did you ever think you would see us again?" She dropped her head. "Would you have just stayed out there… with him… and just left us all behind?" She felt the tears roll down her cheeks and down her shirt. There was a long silence.

"We heard a commotion, is everyone alright?" Rick's voice filled the room suddenly. Carol didn't turn, completely embarrassed by the whole she had confessed. She heard someone leaving and she wondered if it was Rick or Daryl.

"Carol?"

Daryl had left. Rick's call of her name caused her to swallow and lower her shoulders. "Yeah, fine. I just got a small nick on my finger, I'll be okay." Her throat was thick and if Rick could tell that she had been crying, he didn't comment about it.

"O-okay… just holler if you need anything." Then he was gone.

Carol cradled her face in her hands, the clenching of her fingers tough against her forehead and cheeks. She didn't even think to clean the blood off her fingers before she did, so she was certain that the red stained her face.

She shook her head. You fool, she thought. She just didn't know to whom she was referring it to.

She didn't sleep well that night, continuously turning over trying to find comfort, but she had lost it all. Lost it the moment she opened her mouth. Daryl wasn't around. She hadn't seen him.

Carol woke up the next morning and prepared a meal for those who were going out for the day. She tended to Judith and helped clean up the cells, tidying them up a bit.

The day went by slower than she had liked, and it was quiet which meant she had far too much time to think. She wasn't mad at Daryl. She wasn't angry for what he had done and as much as she told herself that she wasn't wrong to blow up at him like that, she knew that she didn't handle her emotions correctly. He didn't know that she felt that way, or maybe he did but just expected her to stay quiet. It wasn't fair to him for her to feel the way that she did. Because she knew that if the positions were opposite, his decision didn't seem so illogical. It was drastic, and blindsided to the pain it would bring her. But it wasn't completely wrong to be loyal to someone bonded by blood. To someone he loved.

So when Daryl had returned for the night and had seen Carol sitting, watching him, she shouldn't have been so surprised when he averted his gaze and quickly walked down a passageway to disappear. She felt her stomach drop. She had to make this right, even if he didn't want to hear her out.

So she followed him, passing by Hershel who was speaking to Rick as she slid into the dark passage way. Though she knew it was clear of Walkers, she still feared the dark. She passed by multiple storage doors and rooms, wondering where he could have gone. Then she heard a clang coming from one of the bigger rooms. The weight room.

She entered with silence but he knew she was there. Carol stood awkwardly at first, wondering how to even start. She fiddled with the edges of her shirt and pursed her lips slightly, wondering what would sound right and what she actually meant. Trying to find a distinction from the two.

"Daryl, I—"

Daryl turned to look at her from his spot on one of the weight benches. He was leaned over, fiddling with one of his arrows from the crossbow he set down loudly before she walked in here. Carol closed her mouth when she didn't know what to say next.

"I—I'm not angry and even if I was, I have no right to be." Carol walked forward suddenly and Daryl stood, inching away from her. Carol stopped awkwardly, the embarrassment flooding her. Of course. Expecting immediate acceptance from Daryl was like expecting cats to have days when they wanted to dance in the rain.

"I was selfish to only think of myself; of the others. I didn't want to consider what you wanted because I knew it wouldn't be us." Carol looked down as she shyly wondered what were her courage had gone. She felt like a doe in front of him, terrified of the arrow about to launch and come straight through her.

Daryl's face bowed, he shifted slightly, uncomfortably. Carol looked away, completely embarrassed with herself. It was silent for a while. Then Daryl sniffed suddenly, lifting his head and turned it to the side, a phantom of a smile on his face.

"Merle beat the shit out of me when I was fifteen." He chuckled lightly at the memory which made Carol frown. She couldn't understand how he thought that was amusing. "Called him a pussy when he came home raving about some girl he had met at the local bar down the street. Seven stiches on the jawline."

Carol looked at Daryl who wouldn't look at her. She wondered what had possessed him to share this story.

"Pa had more cigarettes lying around than he had food in the cabinets. Merle stole a pack one night an' we went to the river, catching frogs one time in August, smokin' away like two hicks knee deep in cloudy shit water."

Daryl's face morphed then. "He got busted for possession a few years later. He spent more time in an' out of that place than he spent drinkin'."

Carol stood awkwardly in the center of the room, unsure of what to do with herself, or with his stories.

"Merle was… was work." Daryl inched forward suddenly, coming towards Carol, seeming as if he was trying to make her understand.

Carol sighed empathetically. "Daryl, it's fine, I didn't mean to make you feel the need to justify—"

"We were gonna loot the camp, Carol."

Carol stopped, her mouth still open, but in shock. She closed it and frowned at him. She didn't understand. "What?"

"Back in Atlanta. Merle and I were gonna take what you people brought and head out on our own." Daryl looked into her eyes, his head shaking as he turned around and walked impatiently towards the nearest bench to sit at. Carol opened her mouth, but Daryl stood once more.

"Don't you see, we were going to leave you people with nothin' and just take off. We were the best chance you people had—hell—before Rick got there, you people wouldn't have lasted a week." He was getting angrier now. Carol flinched back at his words.

"But what does that have to do with—"

"Then Merle got his sorry ass handcuffed to a roof. I gave all of you my game, I hunted for you people. I always saved your ass, I never left anyone for dead. Ain't that enough for y'all?" His nostrils flamed as he exhaled heatedly.

"Daryl…"

"If I didn't care about you people, why did I stay around for so long? I knew Merle weren't in Atlanta and if he was, he was a dumbass to do so. I didn't have faith that he was paintin' murals on the side of some skyscraper. I weren't stayin' round to see if Merle would show up again. I could have looted your camp and left you all for dead. It weren't a two man job."

Carol inched forward, her hands raised to touch him but he only flew his hands up in the air and backed away, causing Carol to close her eyes and exhale tiredly. When she opened them Daryl had his back to her and shook his head.

"How can you be so stupid? Damn, woman, I didn't leave y'all. I came back. There weren't no chance for us out there. Sure we could live out with the Walkers, but I had my own here. I couldn't lose my brother." Daryl turned to look at her. Tears were streaming her cheeks now, her eyes barely lifted to his, she had the look of shame on her face again. Daryl shook his head angrily.

"Don't do that, Carol!" He yelled at her.

"What?" She countered, her voice small and fearful.

Daryl was in her face now, his finger risen. "I can't take it from you!"

Carol backed her face away, her teeth grazing her lip. She watched him with understanding. She saw his pain and suffering. She knew the weight he bore.

Daryl stood in front of her for a long time, turning his head away and scoffing as he held his head in his hands. His shoulders were slumped, telling Carol that he was getting tired of this, of everything.

"I didn't choose…to hurt you by my decision. I didn't mean for you to have to find out like that. I didn't want to have to pick between either of y'all. I—" He stopped and ran his hand through his hair. He turned to the bench and sat down. Processing all that he had just said.

Carol stood there, her face solemn, as she waited for him to turn and look at her. When he did she blinked a few times and nodded, not knowing what to say.

He dropped his face and exhaled complicatedly. He was desperate for her to understand, she could feel it emanating off of him. He was tired. He was really, truly tired. Carol watched, the tears on her cheeks starting to dry. She thought of staying where she was. Of giving him space. But she walked over to him and stopped when she was only feet away from him. She extended her hand and waited for him to notice it. He looked up and saw her fingers stretched out for him. He looked up at her and she was looked calm. He gripped her hand and he stood up. He didn't need the help, but she knew that he needed a hand. And that she could offer. The feel of his rough fingers in hers was all that mattered for the mere seconds that they were there. Then she pulled away her hand.

"You're here now." She stated. Her voice filled his ears and he swallowed before he looked away, trying to find anything to focus on. Then Carol grabbed his wrist. "Hey,"

Daryl turned to look at her, his eyes confused and hurt and tempted and broken all at once. Carol gave him a small smile as she looked at him and she applied pressure with her fingers. "You're here now."

Her echoed words filled the room and Daryl looked directly into her eyes before he nodded. Her hand dropped from his wrist but it was still so close to his that they both brushed on occasion.

She wanted to tell him that Merle wasn't all a stick in the mud, that she had seen enough good in him to sway the bad. That she could see how much he loved Daryl. That going with Merle didn't make her hate him. That she only wanted him to be happy. That Daryl was the best thing that had happened to the group, and just as equally important as any other. She wanted to say that he meant more to her than her own life. But she thought perhaps he would like it more if she kept that to herself, because Daryl wasn't the type who knew how to deal with comments like that. He didn't know how to reciprocate verbally on matters as such. So Carol just smiled softly at him, the back of her hand brushing against his, before she muttered something about getting back to the others. Daryl nodded and Carol led the way, not even sure if he was following her but that didn't matter.

The friction his fingers had caused was enough to keep her warm for a night.

The next time that it was time for another round of haircuts, Carol decided that Judith was in need of one. Rick commented about how necessary a camera would be in that moment to savor his second born's first haircut. Beth hummed as she and Carl started a game of cards. It was the first time she had seen Carl smile in a while, his attention focused solely on Beth as she quirked her eyebrow challengingly. Michonne was cleaning her sword, her legs dangling off between the railings, and Maggie and Glenn sat on the steps, Glenn behind her stroking her hair and kissing her forehead. Daryl was up in his perch, gazing down at Carol, a small smirk on his face as he watched Carol hand Judith to her father and brush through the little girl's small hairs. Hershel was leaning against a wall and smiling at them as well. Carol snipped slowly at Judith's light curls and turned her face up to Rick once she was finished and gave him her broadest smile. Rick chuckled as Judith began gurgling and Carol let out a small laugh. She turned her eyes to Hershel.

"Much better than when I gave Maggie her first haircut. I wasn't born to be a barber." He said lightly.

Carol laughed again and contentment danced in her eyes. She felt an abnormal sense of peace surround her. A second—a moment—of undisturbed happiness. It was rare, but it was hers.

She looked up at Daryl who still smirked at her, though this time it was more profound. He gave her a small nod, one that said something she'll never fully know, but she smiled back at him all the same.

She lived out that second for the rest of the night.

A/N: Read and Review!