Darkness. He couldn't focus on anything, his head spinning. He felt warm, uncomfortably so, and was glad to feel his cheek against a cool metal surface. The more aware he became of what he was feeling, the more confused he was, but he was still so out of it that he couldn't piece anything together.

"Daryl, is it?" A rough voice pierced though his thoughts and he tried to lift his head. His vision was still blurred but a figure was shakily forming across the table from him. "I see that you're coming to. Good. I know that you're probably confused about what's happening right now, but don't worry. You're not in any danger."

Daryl tried to let the man's words register completely, shaking his head as he recovered his vision. He squinted at the man sitting in front of him, his eyes adjusting to the bright fluorescent lighting of the room. The man sat staring at him, a small smile playing at his lips as he watched the worn out captive in front of him try to make out his surroundings.

"Where am I?" Daryl was shocked to hear his voice sound so frail and raspy when he'd meant for it to come out much more harshly. He tried to stand but couldn't. Looking around anxiously he found that he'd been handcuffed to the dark metal chair he was seated upon. Great, he couldn't move.

"Your knowledge of our location isn't... essential," the man said slowly, trying to choose the right words.

"Like hell it isn't!" Daryl spat, trying with all his might to yank himself from the chair, but the most he was rewarded with was the cold metal cuffs digging into his wrists.

The man watched Daryl struggle before him for a few moments before sighing. "It'd be better off if you didn't fight this."

"It'd be better off if you let me out of this goddamned CHAIR," Daryl shouted furiously, but he'd given up on writhing, the pain in his wrists getting to be too much. He was seething, though, and his livid glare was not unnoticed by the man. The man stayed silent.

Daryl's eyes moved along the man's hunched figure, his forearms resting on the table, hands clasped in front of him. He didn't recognize this man at all. Maybe in his late 40's, 50's at most. His graying hair was slicked back; he looked very clean cut, his goatee perfectly groomed. He was peering out from behind his glasses at Daryl with a facial expression that seemed like he was almost examining an animal, and this scrutiny made Daryl's skin crawl.

"Why don't you tell me a little about yourself, Daryl?" The man leaned back in his chair, tilting his head back a little, as if he were looking down his nose at Daryl. This examination shit was pissing Daryl off.

"Why don't you tell me who the hell you are?" Daryl demands growing louder as he glared. "Why don't you tell me where we are? What's goin' on? Why am I handcuffed to a goddamned CHAIR?!" He jerked around violently, the metal clanging loudly beneath him.

"Are you just about finished?" Fucking condescending asshole.

Daryl was breathing heavily as his eyes flitted around the room. Shiny metal walls, no windows, one door, a table, two chairs and the prick in front of him. Nothing. He really felt like a caged animal.

"This is not a dangerous space, Daryl. You aren't in jeopardy here - -"

"Then why am I handcuffed, huh?" Daryl muttered, sliding back into the chair, his arms hanging behind him.

The man ignored Daryl's exasperation. "We just want to learn about you. About the group." Daryl sat up at this. The group. The thought of the others hadn't crossed his mind before. "We want to know how you managed to survive for so long out there, with so few of you."

Few? They had the whole town of Woodbury cooped up in that prison before… he couldn't remember what had happened. What was the last thing he'd done? …he'd been in the courtyard, helping Glenn with something. Why couldn't he remember anything after that?

"I can see that this is a lot for you to take in. Would you like if I told you a little about myself?" The man waited for a response from Daryl, but receiving none continued. "My name is James. I'm part of a research group who has been quietly investigating our surroundings from within this… shelter." He motioned with his arms as he looked around the room, smiling slightly.

"Some shelter."

"Oh, it is quite the sanctuary, if you will. It is much bigger than just this room. How do you think we could accommodate such a large group of people - - your people - - without a vast amount of space?"

"Where are they?" Daryl was leaning forward now, scowling.

James pursed his lips, breathing out loudly through his nose. The 'conversation' was not going as well as he'd thought. "They're all fine. The majority of your group had no useful information for us, as they had been living in a sheltered community for quite some time as we learned. They've been moved to a communal space for now, large enough for comfort."

Daryl's eyes narrowed at his answer. "Majority?"

"Yes, well, they lacked the data we required on your means of survival. Your group's survival, not the community's. They seemed to have lost most of those who founded Woodbury's sturdy walls. We did acquire bits and pieces, but not much. Now we want to know your story. The sheriff, his boy and newborn. The farmer and his two daughters. The Asian boy. The abused woman."

What the FUCK. Why would he know that? How would he? Carol rarely ever spoke of Ed to Daryl; it made no sense for her to even hint at that to their captors.

"Where are they?" His mind was reeling, his eyes shut tightly.

"They've all been moved to grouped cells for the time being. Please don't mistake my word usage to mean prison cells, though I know you've become accustomed to that sort of living space anyway." James rubbed his goatee as he spoke, leaning forward once more. "I need you to tell me about yourself. We are gathering as much information as possible about the individuals' - - in this case your - - ability to live in this world. How did you make it, Daryl?"

Daryl's head was down, the scowl still plastered across his face.

"We've already gotten what we needed from the others. They're all fine. They all were mostly understanding and willing to give us what we need for our research." Mostly. There was that key word again. James frowned at the man sitting before him. "You see, Daryl… they understood that we are not a hostile group. We're researchers. We are doing nothing but collecting data."

"And then?" Daryl questioned, looking up from the table. "Then what?"

"And then… you're free to go. We do not, by any means, want to keep you here for longer than necessary. We don't have the resources to support a group of your magnitude, and we are, frankly, uninterested." James looked down at his hands as he spoke. "We will let you go as soon as we've completed our questioning."

"What's the point, man? Why do you have us here if you don't want anything but… conversation?" Daryl didn't give a shit about what these people wanted. He wanted out, but he mostly wanted to know where his group was. "How do I know you're tellin' the truth? About the others."

James sighed and stood up as he stared at Daryl. He turned away and walked towards the door, knocking twice. The door just barely opened and James stuck his head out of view from Daryl. He could hear James murmuring with whoever was on the other side of the door but could only make out some of the words.

"…wants proof… where's the… thank you." James leaned back into the room but the person on the other side stopped him from closing the door.

"…not cooperating. Won't say anything," Daryl could just barely make out what the other person had said. He watched James intently, who was now holding a small tablet in his hands.

"Use the B200, then." Daryl heard that much more clearly. What the hell was B200?

James closed the door gently behind him and walked back over to the table. Sitting down, he pushed something on the tablet before setting it on the table between the two of them. "Here," he said, sliding the tablet over so Daryl could see it. He saw what looked like a fishbowl view of several rooms. He saw Rick pacing, cradling Judith while looking around his respective room. Carl sat on a chair, knees pulled up to his chest. The tablet was a monitor, and Daryl was looking into the rooms of his friends. The tablet switched over to another room, this one containing Hershel and Glenn. They were speaking but the tablet wasn't registering audio. The screen switched to another room. He saw Maggie seated upon a raggedy looking couch, Beth laying on it, her head resting on Maggie's lap. They weren't speaking from the looks of it. Daryl waited for the screen to switch again, but James slid the tablet back across the table and shut it off.

"Wait, what? Where's Carol?" Daryl was glowering, his confusion and anxiety over his friend getting the best of him.

"Ah, Carol. She's currently with one of my other associates. They've not yet completed her questioning, but I imagine they'll be finished fairly quickly. Don't worry, Daryl." James seemed as if he was almost smirking, but maybe Daryl was just in too much of a rage to see things correctly. He wanted to punch James' teeth out.

James reached within his labcoat and pulled something out. Cigarettes? "Would you care for one?"

Fuck it.

Daryl shrugged. He still wasn't going to talk. Not after getting some bullshit answer about Carol. He'd just sit there and smoke that asshole's cigarettes until he gave up with his questioning and let everyone go. "Gonna be needin' my hands, don't ya think?"

James raised an eyebrow, contemplating what Daryl had just said. "I suppose you're right…"

He stood and walked around the table to stand behind Daryl. Daryl heard the jingling of keys being pulled from a pocket and sat still as James kneeled to unlock the handcuffs. After a moment the cuffs clicked and loosened. Daryl immediately yanked his hands free and rubbed his wrists. Looking at them he saw the indentions of where the cuffs had dug into his skin as he'd been struggling to get them off. He heard a thud and his head shot up. James had tossed the pack of cigarettes onto the table in front of him. A lighter followed shortly after.

Daryl wasted no time in tearing open the box and grabbing a cigarette. He hurriedly stuck it in his mouth, as though James might grab it back from him, and lit it. Closing his eyes, he breathed the smoke in deeply. He hadn't smoked frequently before the world went to shit, but when he did, it was in an attempt to make himself feel better. After a run-in with Merle. After a heated argument with his asshole boss. After drinking a few too many to keep his head clear of his fears. He hadn't really cared about the health issues with smoking then, and it made no damn difference now. Why be worried about black lung when the dead were roaming around trying to eat you?

"Better?" James took a drag of his own cigarette, watching Daryl closely. When he didn't get a response he continued. "Now Rick told me he met you just outside of Atlanta, a little over a year ago. How long had you been with the group before then?"

Daryl shrugged again, watching the smoke as he released it from his mouth.

"Sounds like you weren't a very significant part of their group," James uttered, his face tilted forward so that he was looking over his glasses at Daryl.

Daryl's eyes flicked over to James for a moment before looking away again. Like he was going to humor this guy's dumbass questions.

"Have you always had an issue talking with people?" James seemed almost amused by the silent man before him.

"Just people who think they know everything, I guess," Daryl spat, looking at James more intently.

"You mean like Rick, correct?"

"Ain't got a problem with Rick. What's this got to do with survival?"

"Mmm just a little casual conversation for starters, I thought?" James raked his fingers through his greasy looking hair, giving Daryl a phony looking smile. "Listen, I don't think you're going to tell me anything."

"Damn right," Daryl huffed, flicking the ash from his cigarette onto the floor.

"I figured about as much. Why do you think we had you handcuffed? You are unstable, Daryl," James was speaking to Daryl as if he were a psychiatrist.

"Man, shut the fuck up. You don't know me," Daryl hissed.

"Uncooperative," James stated coldly, staring Daryl down. "It seems as though several members of your group felt similarly about their willingness to divulge basic information, but we were able to get it from them."

Daryl's stomach turned as he locked eyes with James. He didn't understand what that meant. "What, you threaten 'em? Don't sound very polite of you, Doc."

James chuckled. "There was no need for threatening. They… came to their senses. What you people don't understand is that there is no reason for you to not just give us the information we require. We are not going to harm you. But you all seem so closed off, as though this world has caused you to… lose some of your humanity?" James was squinting, trying to word things carefully. "This only makes us want to know your story more. You're obviously a little harder to get to, though, so I think we may need to think of a different means of extracting your past."

James gazed at Daryl for a few moments, hoping he wouldn't have to call his associates into the room, but Daryl gave no response other than a dirty look. Daryl watched the other man just as intently as James' hand reached beneath the table. Maybe two seconds passed before the door behind James opened and three men entered. One of them held a syringe filled with a pale blue liquid inside it.

"It appears as though we need to motivate Daryl to help us with our research," James stated, looking over his shoulder at the three men. They nodded silently before starting to move in Daryl's direction.

Daryl's heart started racing, seeing the three looming men approach him and he jumped to his feet. "What the hell are you doin'?" The men didn't answer but moved in on him more quickly. Daryl clenched his teeth together, dropping the cigarette to the floor as he backed up until he touched the cold wall behind him. One of them, a burly man, maybe 6'0" with what looked like a steroid addiction, advanced to Daryl's right and Daryl immediately went to punch him in the face. The other man came from Daryl's left and swiftly delivered a punch into his side, causing Daryl to double over. The two men grabbed Daryl by the arms and shoved him against the wall.

"Get the HELL off me!" Daryl shouted furiously, struggling against the two hulking men. He had never felt weak before, and the fact that he could barely move was causing him to panic. This fear was only maximized as he saw the third man closing in on him with the syringe. "Get that shit away from me!" Daryl tried kicking the men keeping him stable but to no avail. He continued jerking around, his head shaking furiously, like a child throwing a tantrum.

The third man stared at the thrashing Daryl silently before sticking the needle into his arm and pushing the plunger.

After what seemed like hours of talking, Daryl was taken from the metal box and led down an equally bright hallway. Handcuffed again. He kept his head down as he walked between the two men who'd held him still while the medication had been injected into him. His eyes were wet and he was so unbelievably enraged at that fact. What a pathetic fuckup he'd just been. James had gotten him to talk alright, but it hadn't been of his own will.

They led Daryl to the end of the bright white hallway before stopping. The man leading the way unlocked the metal door before him as the man bringing up the rear of the group hastily unlocked Daryl's handcuffs. He'd had half a mind to attack the two men but was shoved into the room so quickly it didn't matter. The door slammed shut behind him.

Daryl slumped down against the door, his elbows on his knees and his hands grasping his hair.

What a fuckup. Can't even keep your goddamned mouth shut you failure.

Daryl let go of the tight grip he had on his hair to lean back and bang the back of his head against the door, the metal clanging loudly.

"FUCK!" he yelled, furious, before the tears started to spill over. They rolled down his face silently, only accompanied by his faint sniffling.

"Daryl?"

His head shot up and his heart just about stopped when he saw Carol emerge from the darker side of the room. He quickly lowered his head and swiped at his face with one of his hands, trying to hide his tears.

What an idiot.

"I was so worried about you," Carol cried, quickly making her way to Daryl's seated figure before kneeling to meet him on the floor.

When he finally looked up at her he saw the dim remnants of tears down her cheeks and his heart fell. He dropped his head as soon as he felt his eyes welling up again. He was fuming at the fact that he had no clue why his emotions were currently getting the best of him. It was probably the fact that James had just forced him to speak tirelessly about his life with the aid of inhibition-lowering drugs. Even when Daryl elected to lower his own inhibitions with several drinks, he still didn't talk as much as he just had.

"Daryl, are you alright?" Carol questioned softly, seeing his anguished expression. She reached over to touch his cheek and felt it had been wet as she gently ran her thumb along the surface. He jerked away slightly, but not enough to cause her to move her hand. "Are you lightheaded?" Daryl met her eyes and nodded.

"Mine's… wearing off, I think," she said quietly, looking over at her arm. Daryl followed her eyes and saw a bandage placed over the same spot where he'd received the injection. She quickly looked back up at him. "Ask me something."

Daryl's face twisted in confused. "What?"

"I want to know if it's still having an effect on me. My lightheadedness is going away. I want to know how much longer I'm going to be involuntarily answering questions." Carol's eyebrows were furrowed in irritation as she spoke.

"I don't know what you want me to ask…"

"Ask me anything Daryl for God's sake!"

Daryl was taken aback by her curtness, a little hurt even.

Hurt? Man the hell up. This shit better wear off fast.

He was livid over the whole situation. Being held prisoner, basically. His mind being pried open by a bunch of lunatics. And now Carol was yelling at him to ask her a question. This was too fucked up and he was way too infuriated and couldn't help what burst from his mouth.

"Why'd you stay with someone who beat you for so long and put that little girl in danger?" Carol's mouth opened slightly and a pained look spread across her face, but Daryl couldn't stop. "Why'd you let her get away from you? Why didn't you do NOTHIN'?"

He hadn't realized he'd been shouting until he saw Carol flinch away from him. Then he saw the new streaks across her face, though she lowered her head and turned from him. Daryl felt his face contorting like he might cry also, so he ducked his head again, placing his face in his hands.

What is wrong with you you DIPSHIT?!

They were quiet for a couple minutes before Carol sniffled a response. "I guess I'm back to normal."

Daryl peered over at her huddled figure, arms wrapped around her knees which were pulled close to her chest. She looked so frail and… sad. He wanted to beat his head against the wall over and over again for doing this to her. "I'm.. I'm sorry, didn't mean it… just…" he whispered.

"I know. It's okay, Daryl. I know what they did to make you talk," Carol murmured, using her sleeve to wipe her eyes. "And I don't blame you for thinking those things about me. I hate myself everyday for not protecting my little girl like a momma's supposed to do." She was extremely quiet, Daryl could barely hear her.

"Don't think that way," Daryl responded, glancing up at her from the floor. He was ashamed of causing this woman who'd done nothing but care about him to cry. He'd done exactly what James had just done to him: demanded to know things that should only be kept private. He looked away again. It was too much for him to see her like this and know that it was because of him. Because of James, dammit.

Daryl swayed a bit and brought a hand up to the side of his head, closing his eyes. His head was spinning again and he felt nauseous. "I'm sorry," he uttered quietly, squeezing his eyes shut more tightly.

"It's okay," Carol replied quietly. "What did they ask you?" Shit, now she was going to start asking him questions?

He opened his eyes and stared at her before answering, "Atlanta. They wanted to know why Merle and I merged with the group. Asked about the CDC, the farm, the prison… all that shit they probably asked everyone one of us." He hated talking this much. "…asked about Merle, my family… about how the group got along, you know…"

Carol peered at him inquisitively, her eyes slightly widened. She could tell he was still under the effects of the drug but was conflicted as to whether she should question him further. This could be the only chance she got to know anything she wanted about him. But he might hate her for forcing him to tell her these things. She could ask anything she wanted…

"Why did you come back to the prison?" she inquired almost as quietly as a mouse, her eyes gazing over at him though her head was lowered slightly. She watched his facial expression change from one of anguish to that of bewilderment.

"B'cause I knew they were gonna come back and attack. Had to come back and help," Daryl replied quickly, averting his eyes. He wasn't lying.

"But… you could've just left us, left with Merle." She was still observing him with those sad eyes, like she was waiting for something else.

He gulped trying to force the knot in his throat to vanish. His mouth felt extremely dry and he glanced around the room. Of course nothing was present save for a few chairs and a table. He tried to think of a way to change the subject but didn't want to risk upsetting her again. It was too late, she'd begun speaking again, anyway.

"Why did you immediately offer to help find Sophia? You didn't owe us anything, especially after what happened with Merle…"

The question caught him off guard and his eyebrows furrowed. Carol stayed silent, awaiting a response. "I don't know… she had a momma to return to but no daddy to look for her." He was struggling with how to say what he didn't really even want to say. "Guess I… accepted that Merle was gone and had to focus on helpin' someone else." His mouth turned up slightly.

Carol seemed satisfied with his answer, smiling softly. God, he loved her. He shook his head and bit his tongue so hard he thought he might draw blood. What the hell was he thinking? It was bad enough being forced to have a bullshit conversation about his past, but there was no way he was going to allow his emotions to come pouring out of him.

He hadn't realized it but Carol had slid back over to him while he'd been talking, and now she rested her chin against one of her knees, still looking at him. Daryl ducked his head for what seemed like the millionth time, trying not to get flustered by the sight of her beautiful eyes piercing into him.

"Why you gotta look at me like that?" he huffed, but not in an angry tone. He could feel his temperature rising, seeing her watching him from the corner of his eye. She laughed and Daryl tried to fight off a smile. He was supposed to be mad at her for interrogating him like this! He prayed to God she'd just shut up. He enjoyed the time they spent sitting together quietly more than when he was forced into awkward conversations.

"I find your reactions humorous," she replied, grinning. "Sometimes I think… I mean I know… that you're hiding your feelings." When he didn't answer she asked him flat out, "What are you feeling right now?"

"Anger that I'm havin' to talk to you like this," he nearly growled, before continuing, "…happiness, bein' here with you, I guess." He really wanted to hit himself. He was going to freak her out, talking like this.

"You like being alone with me?" She was really pushing it, but she couldn't help herself. Daryl hadn't flown off the handle at her first few questions yet, so she wanted to test the waters a bit more. She knew being flirty with him, even though she was mostly joking in the past, embarrassed Daryl. So why not see his reaction now?

He was going to vomit. She must have been disgusted by the thought, but he was required to reply. "Yes…" He said it so quietly he hoped she didn't hear it. Daryl decided he was going to keep his eyes on the floor until they were free to go.

Carol felt a wave of happiness rush over her. "Do you like talking?"

"Hate talkin'," he muttered. "Haven't you figured that out yet? You must not either since they got you too."

"I like talking to you." He didn't care, he was keeping his eyes on the floor regardless of what she said, though his stomach was doing flips. "Would you prefer if we didn't talk?"

"Good Lord yes," he immediately answered, looking up at her to get the point across. She was sitting casually not too far from him, legs crossed with her arms behind her, hands on the floor. Daryl was so hopeful that that'd be the end of the conversation.

"Well… what would you prefer to do?" she questioned in an innocent voice, though the look she was giving him sent a wave through him.

She tilted her head, waiting for an answer. He followed the curve of her neck with his eyes down to where her maroon tank top met her shoulders, then down the slope of the neckline to… He looked away quickly, humiliated that he'd let his mind wander there when she'd asked him that question. Carol grinned, though, trying to think of other ways to joke with the blushing man in front of her.

"That first night at the prison, we were joking around…" Shit, he knew exactly what she was bringing up. "…did you think I was kidding?"

"Of course," he instantly answered, glimpsing at Carol. "Nobody'd be serious about somethin' like that. 'Specially you." Pathetic.

Carol looked perplexed, a small frown on her lips. "Especially me?"

He shook his head quickly, sputtering, "I don't.. know what I'm tryin' to say. You wouldn't be interested in someone like me." Pathetic pathetic pathetic.

"Why not?" she asked softly, eyes moving over Daryl's fidgeting figure. He was wringing his hands as he stared at the floor, his hair falling over his eyes. Sometimes, in these moments, he reminded Carol of herself when Ed was still around. Keeping to herself, cowering, always afraid and waiting for the next time he'd hurt her.

He never looked up, but mumbled, "Nobody wants a worthless little bitch who can't do nothin' right." His words echoed the words he'd heard from his father over the years. "Nobody wants an ugly disappointment."

Carol was shocked at what she'd just heard him say. She'd expected a totally different reaction, one which included him telling her he just was uninterested in her. She breathed in deeply and moved closer to him. They rarely ever touched one another, and when it did happen it was for emotional reassurance. She wished she could tell Daryl how wrong he was but knew he wouldn't believe her. The same things he'd said mirrored exactly what she'd heard throughout her marriage. She carefully placed her hand on top of his and watched his face for any negative reaction.

"Do you care about me, Daryl?"

He lifted his head at the blunt question. He shrugged slightly, afraid of the information he was about to give. "More than anyone."

That was all Carol needed to hear before she closed the gap between them. She grabbed Daryl lightly by his collar and pulled him towards her hoping she wasn't wrong about this part of his emotions. Both kneeling in front of one another, Daryl stared at her with his mouth slightly open. He felt like an idiot just gaping at her like a fish with a hook in its mouth, so he shut his quickly. He was waiting for her to do something, anything. Her hands were on the back of his neck now, her fingers tracing circles softly. He closed his eyes, trying to keep his composure in the hopes that she wouldn't stop.

"What do you want, Daryl?"

His eyes shot open at the question, his mouth open like a stupid fish again. He roamed over her face again, taking in all of her beautiful features, before murmuring, "You." With that his mouth crashed against hers and he took her face in his hands. He had no idea what he was doing but he hoped it was alright. He would never have done anything so bold if it hadn't been for the drugs circulating in his bloodstream, but he was almost thankful for them at this point.

Daryl leaned into her, forcing her to lay on her back so he could rest above her, propped up on his forearms. He was still kissing her softly when she grabbed a fistful of his hair, causing him to become a little frenzied. His heart was going faster than he'd ever known, his head spinning. He wasn't sure if it was from the drugs or from what he was doing but he didn't care. He left a trail of kisses down her neck until he reached the spot where her neck met her shoulder. Stopping here to bite lightly elicited a moan from Carol, and he smirked. She wrapped a leg around his waist to which Daryl responded with a quiet gasp.

He pulled back immediately, sitting up as he breathed heavily. Carol propped herself up, her face a cross of uncertainty and insecurity. "What? What's wrong?"

Daryl shook his head seeing the look on her face. "It's not you. Heard somethin'."

They sat quietly for a minute before hearing the door behind them click. They both sprung up and Daryl pushed Carol behind him as the door opened. James stood at the door smiling. Daryl's eyes narrowed at the sight of him, one arm reaching out in front of Carol in a protective gesture.

"Don't be alarmed, you're free to go," James said happily. "The rest of your group has been gathered and are preparing for departure. We had to place you in this room to make sure the effects of the B200 had worn off before we allowed anyone to leave." He looked down at his watch before continuing, "The effects should have worn off after about ten minutes in this room, Daryl." James smiled and motioned for them to follow him.

As they moved forward, Carol's hand reached out to grab Daryl's and she leaned close to whisper in his ear with a smile, "Braver than you thought."