The First Time She Looked For Him

She stepped carefully through the underbrush, searching intently, moving the way he had taught her. The key was to look, look everywhere, not just at the ground like some idiot. She could hear his voice in her head as clear as if he were standing next to her. Always look waist high. People run into branches – so do Walkers, dumb bastards – bend 'em backwards, see? That'll tell you where they headin'…Look UP too – see those birds? Spooked by something up ahead….Step quietly as you can an don't forget to look back - just 'cause you're tracking somethin' doesn't mean it ain't trying to track you too.

She remembered and concentrated and tried to put to use everything he had taught her, both to get back to the prison as quickly as she could and to block out the gnawing fear burning in her belly.

She had been away from the prison almost a full day after Rick had told her there wasn't a place for her there anymore. That he wouldn't have her near his children. That no one would forgive her for what she had done.

She had holed up in a little shack along the road, paralyzed with indecision. Should she head back to the prison? Sneak back in and try to plead her case? Or continue on the road alone away from the group? Lest she be executed if she went back, by Tyreese, or even one of the others. By him? God, the thought made her want to throw up.

Either option was terrible. She couldn't go, couldn't just leave Lizzie and Mika and Jude and the others. And him. Leave them like they had all been left by someone else along the way.

But she couldn't go back either. What if Rick were right? What if she headed back and they all stood against her, stood by while she was killed as a punishment for what she had done? What if even he had turned against her? Did what had to be done? Like with Randall, she agonized.

She didn't know what choice she would have made if she hadn't seen the smoke and heard the explosion from miles away and had known immediately that there was trouble at the prison. Once that had happened, there was only one choice. She had left the little house for the car at a sprint.

Concentrate. Look, Carol, don't you see? She followed the direction of the broken twigs. Direction shows you which way to pick up the trail.

It had taken her hours to double back to the prison through the herds that were drawn to the noise. Finally, she had abandoned the car and cut across the woods towards the prison, desperate to get close enough to see what had happened.

Concentrate. Look, Carol, don't you see? She checked the blood on the leaves carefully. Black blood means Walkers; red blood means one of us. The blood she saw was both, and the fear grew steadily inside her.

As she got closer to the prison, she could see the smoke and fire through the trees. But nothing prepared her for what she saw when she finally broke through the tree line. The gates were down, obliterated, and the dead filled the yard. Both the walking dead and the dead bodies lying motionless on the ground. Fires were blazing throughout the outer yard and looked to be coming from within the prison itself as well. She couldn't see anyone at all moving except the dead.

She had known immediately she had to try to find them. Any of them. Him. She had lost so much already. Judith, Lizzie and Mika, the Greene girls, Carl, Glenn. And the three that hurt the most. Sophia. Rick. And him. The only thing to do was try to find them.

He had taught her to track months before without meaning to at all. At least, she didn't think that he had set out to. There had never been a Carol, come on over here and look at these leaves or a Time you learned to follow a trail or anything so direct. That wasn't his way with her.

Instead, ever since the day that Sophia had been lost by the creek, and he had tried and failed to find her, if the two of them were walking anywhere together, he was pointing out markers on the trail to her. Always under his breath and never looking straight at her, he just talked to her in his quiet and direct way, showing her what he saw on the trail until she eventually learned to see through his eyes.

See where the black blood on those leaves is on top of the deer print? She looked. That means the Walker came through after the buck. She nodded.

Know how you can always tell if Rick's been through? She looked. Favors his right leg a little – see how one print is deeper than the other? She nodded.

Glenn'll always be easy to find. She looked. Still wearing those dumbass sneakers instead of boots...always walks side-by-side with Maggie too. She nodded.

It had become their thing, walking along while he tracked, and she had the impression that although he had never asked if she wanted to be taught, he had liked very much showing her what he knew, showing a skill (his skill) to make her stronger. Safer.

So all the months that they had been on the road, if the group was walking anywhere, it gradually became her habit to drift forward or drop back. To find his side quietly and walk along next to him if it was safe, listening and looking and learning.

She had learned more than just tracking during those months. She had learned that he was wryly funny, wickedly clever, and incredibly alone.

Their walks and his talks were one of the things that she had missed most once they had finally found the prison. At the prison, after Woodbury fell, they gravitated away from each other. He was needed outside, on runs or to hunt, and when he was out, he was alone or with Michonne or another strong fighter. She herself was more needed inside – to do the hundred things that were needed for the growing community at the prison – to organize, to cook, to clean, to care for the children.

Sure, they had talked at breakfast before he went out or at dinner once he had come back, or at Council meetings with Hershel and Glenn and Sasha, but it wasn't the same. Necessity kept them apart, as well as the lingering tension that his leaving with Merle after Woodbury had left between them. She kept meaning to find a quiet time with him, to have it out, to put her cards on the table finally. All her cards – her anger, her fear, and, if she could find the courage, even her feelings for him. But the time was just never right. And now he was maybe dead in the attack, and all that had been between them would always be unsaid.

But she forced that thought away. If anyone had survived, it was him. And if he had gotten out, he would have done anything to make sure Judith and the girls and Carl and the other children got out as well. The only thing to do was look until she found him.

She searched cautiously along the tree line, keeping an eye out for attackers or the dead. Then she thought her heart would stop when she finally found his prints. They were faint – he was light on his feet even in escape – but unmistakable. She had followed behind his boot prints for months on the road. She would have recognized the distinctive pattern the soles of his boots made in her dreams.

He wasn't alone, she could tell that. Someone was with him, maybe Beth, Maggie, Sasha? The prints were too small to be a man's but too large to be one of the younger girls'.

She followed along both sets for several hundred yards, carefully doubling back and trying not to panic when she lost his trail. That was when she found the two little sets of tracks - unmistakably children - crisscrossing each other, then leading side-by-side, then crossing back again. Her heart leapt. She searched along carefully and silently until she came to a tree log with a scrunched-up diaper next to it. It had to be the girls. And with Judith! And by the looks of it, they were with one of the other men, not Rick or Glenn, but maybe Bob?

She doubled her pace after the girls' prints. She couldn't pick up Daryl's tracks anymore but she figured that made sense. If he had found them safe and with another man from the prison, he'd be off ahead, scouting the trail in front to make it safe for the children.

She decided to concentrate on following the girls' prints. It would be easier to track Mika and Lizzie anyway with their clumsy little feet through the woods than to follow him if he was coursing the trail ahead and doubling back to make it safe for those behind him. When she found them, she would find him. She was sure of it. She knew he'd never leave the baby or the girls after what happened with Sophia.

She pushed on, desperate to find them and tried to concentrate only on the ground, the trees, the sky, the trail. Not letting herself think for a minute what might happen when she caught up. If Rick was with them, if Rick saw her. The way they had left things between them when it was just the two of them. All the things she still wanted to say to him, to explain, to make it so he didn't look at her with such cold hate after all their time together. After Sophia. After Lori. And if Rick had told Tyreese? What would he do, how could she make herself be understood? And Daryl? It was all too much. She pushed it all away. She'd think about it later.

She had been following along for about an hour when she heard the commotion up ahead. The gunshots, the girls' screaming, Judith crying. She sprinted ahead and burst through the brush to see the two little blonde heads. Standing there terrified and alone.

She headed straight to their side, pushing her knife into the head of two of the dead barely registering them. Instead, her eyes raked over the girls frantically. Mika's eyes were huge. Lizzie's face was white, and she was hugging Judith so tight that she could barely see the baby, only hear her. But they were okay. Not bit. Not hurt. Just scared. But where was Daryl? Why were they alone?

"Where is he?" she panted to them, terrified. Mika pointed ahead, her little shaking hand still holding a gun she should never have had to use. She scooped Judith up with one arm, and grabbed the gun with her other hand. "Get behind me, girls." Then she ran towards the tracks where Mika had pointed, the girls tripping along behind her and clutching tightly to her belt.

He was far away. Surrounded by a herd. She could barely see him with all the dead around. Just as she got close enough to turn and give the baby back to Lizzie to go help him, she saw that it was alright. He had put them all down. He turned around to her and the girls, and she almost smiled in relief. Finally.She had found him.

But something was wrong. She wasn't seeing him right. And then she recognized his broad shoulders, the hammer, and when he smiled at her, his handsome face sagging in relief, her brain finally caught up to her eyes, and she thought disbelievingly, Tyreese.

Somehow, he didn't know. He hugged her tightly and told her over and over and over how happy he was that she was safe, where had she been, who was she with, and all she could think was, he doesn't know, he doesn't know, how can he not know?

But it didn't matter. Not right now. Either Rick hadn't told anyone or the prison had fallen too quickly. Whatever it was, he didn't know. And then he was telling her that it was just them, just the four of them had gotten out together, and she understood. His relief at seeing her would have been comical if the situation hadn't been so horrible. As kind and gentle and strong as he was, being alone on the road with two little girls and one baby to protect, must have been overwhelming for him.

So she bit back everything she wanted to say to him and resolved to stay and help him get the girls somewhere safe. She wouldn't leave the girls, who had lost too much as it was. She wouldn't leave Tyreese, who had stepped up and been so strong for them, even as they held him back, so desperate to find his sister.

But she would still keep looking. She would push them forward together as safely as she could. She'd keep looking for him along the trail that he had left for her until she found him again.

A/N – I'm not sure if anyone is still reading due to my loooong bout with writer's block! But if so, I think I will try to start again with this one. This season has got me back into it! Happy New Year, all.