As the group gathered round for Rick's announcement, Daryl did a head count again—still no Carol. He was sure she'd assist Hershel and Maggie in passing out the medication, but it was like she was nowhere to be found. It was rather odd. Carol's like the mother of them all, but instead of helping, she's just...gone. The feeling unsettled him. What had happened while he and the others had gone on their run?

Rick stood before them, looking over the curious and questioning eyes of Daryl, Maggie, Glenn, Beth, Hershel, Tyreese, Michonne, Carl and Sasha. He took a deep breath, hand on his gun, and he stepped toward them a bit. "I found out who killed Karen and David," he told them in that crisp voice, that cold resolve.

Tyreese's head lifted, his heart beginning to race at the long anticipated news of who had killed the woman he was falling in love with and a man he respected. "Who was it?" he demanded.

His eyes flickered momentarily to Daryl and Beth then off in the distance, his heart aching as the scene unfolded in his mind of how she told him and how he left it. "It was Carol. Carol killed Karen and David to stop this flu from spreadin'."

Silence enveloped them. Beth's mouth slowly fell open as she gripped baby Judith to her chest, Maggie just looked stunned, Glenn couldn't feel anything, Michonne was a blank-faced as always, though the slight twitch of her lip showed her...emotion, Hershel eyed Rick, closely, looking for the answer to his questions, Carl let out a soft whimper and Tyreese...was lost. Carol was a woman he trusted, a woman who was so gentle, so loving toward everyone. He couldn't believe she would callously kill Karen and David, drag their bodies out to that courtyard and burn them. He could, however, believe that she would do it for the good of everyone. It's what she does—the little things—like taking care of messes, fixing what needed to be fixin'.

"What?" Beth managed finally before anyone else, holding Judith so close. "But she wouldn't do that." She shook her head, disbelieving the woman she'd known for so long had done something so out of character, something so...heartless. "Carol would never harm one of our own." She looked helplessly at the others around her, biting her lip to keep the tears away.

"Well, she did," Rick replied. "She did, so I—I had to make a choice."I had to make a choice.

"And what choice was that?" Michonne asked, her brown eternal eyes trained on him.

"I told her to leave." He felt a lump in his throat, but he kept going. "I gave her food, water, gasoline, and I sent her on her way. She'll find shelter, and she'll find another group. She's strong, and she'll make it."

"That's why you didn't want me to go," Maggie realized.

"And I needed someone to look after the camp," he added honestly.

"And she just left?" Hershel searched his eyes. "Without Mika or Lizzie?"

"Well, no. No, she wanted them, but I wouldn't agree. Lizzie's sick, and Mika's ten. I told her we'd take care of them, and we will."

"And you...made this choice?" Daryl finally spoke up.

"I—I did." He eyed Daryl's unmoving frame.

"What happened to we decide?" Beth blurted angrily, having grown close to the older woman over the course of several months and caring for Judy.

His eyes moved to her. "I—"

"No! You said "we choose"," she spat, causing Judy to stir and begin to cry. "It was our choice to stay, our choice to go, but the minute it comes to a group decision, you just decide for yourself?" She shook her head and soothed the sobbing infant.

"Beth," Maggie began, but the young girl jerked away and headed for the admissions building, furious. "Beth!" Maggie slid by Glenn and jogged after her little sister, catching her at the gate.

"Girl's got a point," Michonne murmured. "You apparently said it was up to us—all of us—and you made this decision by yourself? When did you become the leader again?"

"I made this choice for my family," he admitted. "She's changed. She's dangerous. She killed two of our people in cold blood! Hershel, those are your words, not mine."

"It wasn't up to you," Glenn decided. "We have the council for decisions like this. I can understand punishing her—it completely logical. I just—You've been in the position of handing out rations and—and medicine, and for you to decide something like this...alone...it's—it's a bit...selfish." He was having a hard time grasping words that fit this situation. It's Carol. How can it still be...Carol who did this?

"Selfish?" Rick echoed, scoffing. "Did y'all seem to forget that she murdered two of our own in cold blood? That she burned their bodies? Stabbed them in the back of the head when they weren't expecting it?"

"Oh, I'm not forgetting that," Glenn assured him. "I'm still swallowing that. What I'm saying is you made this decision by yourself when this was a group decision. She did this to protect us, and she had the right to a fair...trial. We all—"

"Are you defending her?" He narrowed his eyes.

"No! I'm not defending her! I'm simply say—"

"I did what I did to protect us!" he roared. "I sent off a woman I've known from the start, because I don't know who that woman is anymore! She can't be trusted!"

Daryl's eyes narrowed considerably, but he remained silent, biting his lower lip. But Daryl was the last of Rick's worries. No one saw it coming. No one saw him move, but Tyreese had lunged and grasped Rick by the front of his shirt, his teeth bared like an animal. Almost everyone lurched forward, but stopped just before they reached him, his hand out, telling them to not put themselves in harms way.

"I told you to bring them to me!" he growled. "I told you—bring—them—to—me! Where is she?"

Rick met his eyes, a slight rage was burning behind those crystal pools. "I don't know. I don't care to know."

He released him, hands shaking, and he began to storm off.

"Where are you going?" Sasha called after him.

He didn't reply.

She left the group to bicker and followed him as he rampaged towards the gate.

"We should've gotten the choice," Hershel spoke up, defending his son-in-law. "You stepped down as a leader, because you couldn't make those decisions anymore. Are you ready to be our leaders again? Or was this a one-time deal?" He wanted to know.

Rick stepped back. "I—" He though back, at what Carol had said to him, about his leaderships skills and how he couldn't be just a farmer. She was right. He couldn't just sit back and be a farmer. There was no use for just a farmer at a time like this. If he was going to lead, he had to do it completely, not halfheartedly. He could step up and be the leader he was before or remain the right-hand-man. He'd have to decide sooner rather than later. "I've thought about it, and I'll need a bit more time—"

"It's always about time," Daryl murmured, his nerves maxed out. He respected Rick for so much, but lately, that respect was being channeled elsewhere. His narrow eyes landed on the world-worn man who was trying to reclaim part of the past that had been dead for a long time. "It ain't about who did what or said what, it's about how you let it play out. Carol killed them to keep this illness from spreadin'."

"She did what she thought was right. In her mind, she was protecting the group. She saw a threat and she took it out," Hershel added. "Haven't some of us done the same?"

Rick knew he was referring to the two men in the bar, Shane, Tomas, and the boy Carl took out, because he did what he thought he had to do. There was a different between those events. Tomas was an obvious threat, those men as well, and Shane... Shane was no longer who he was, lost sight of that a while ago. And Carl... Carl was just...

Killing a boy in cold blood, a voice in his head taunted when he couldn't complete the thought.

He sighed. If Carol could be effected by this world and turn into a killer, what will happen to Carl? And Judy? How will they know the difference between knowing when to kill and knowing when to back off? How can he protect this camp if he doesn't even know what darkness lies inside the people he's protecting? What are their limits? Can he do this? Can he cast away Carol for committing murder and protect his children from becoming like that when they're older? Could he still be himself and live with that?

"We don't kill the living," he reminded them, Dale instantly popping into his head. He would've wanted her to have a fair trial, even if she confessed. He was so adamant on protecting our humanity. Damned fool. "We do not killing the living."

"What do you think you just did?" Daryl snorted. "Gave her a fort on Wall Street with maids and food all 'round? She ain't no warrior, can't hunt to save her life."

"What do you want me to do? Go out and find her?" He glared. "She's gone. She's isn't coming back. Let's all adjust to that. We have people to help." He walked through them and stopped by Beth and Maggie. "Beth—"

Her delicate hand came across his face with a sharp sting, her eyes rimmed with red, and he swallowed hard, accepting her angry. Maggie grasped her hand and led her away, soothing her, trying to comfort that thoughts running through her head. Rick shook his head slightly and kept walking, Carl followed him.

"What are we gonna do?" Glenn asked no one in particular, hands on his head, squinting at the sunlight that glared down on them.

"We all got jobs to do," Hershel replied. "We got bodies to move, and we have the sick to tend to. We're gonna need everyone." He turned and headed to the prison.

"And you?" Michonne asked Daryl, knowing his feelings toward Carol, their close friendship. She looked at him through the corner of her eyes.

"I ain't no doctor," he admitted. "Don't see much for me to do around here." He shuffled his feet.

Michonne crossed her arms. "Don't see much for you either," she agreed, glancing at him through the corners of her eyes. "Not much at all." She slowly backed up before turning around completely and walking towards the prison.

"I'm sure she's fine," Glenn told Daryl, not looking at him, but at the sky, trying to be hopeful. "She's tough, you know. Lucky too. I mean, you found her in a cell after...what? Two, three days? And she made it off the farm, 'cause she got lucky that you were there, so I'm sure she's—Daryl?" He looked around. "Daryl?" He groaned. "Great, now he's gone off too. And I continue to talk to myself."

He put his hands on his hips. "Good luck, Daryl." He laughed. "I'm still talking to myself." He started for the prison, faintly hearing the hum of a motorcycle. Go get her, Dixon.

– – –

Ducking behind a bookcase, Carol gripped the knife at her hip, listening as the walker in the store dragged itself along, moaning. She wiggled her fingers to keep the sweat from making the blade slippery. It was blazing hot today. What she wouldn't give for some AC right now. Or even an ice bath.

Shuffle.

She tensed and heard it move closer.

"Aahh." That breathy moan followed by more dragging.

She lunged and thrusted the blade into its frontal lobe, jerking it out as blood splattered onto her dirty red shirt. She tucked the knife away and returned to hunting. She found some extra bullets and a .38 tucked away in a room where a woman and a child were decaying, probably killed by the man in the picture, who she'd just taken out downstairs. She found some reasonably clean clothes and changed out of her ratty shirts. She took a few for later and exited the house.

Wiping her brow, she gazed up at the sun and took a small drink of water. She forced herself on as to not think about anything but survival. Where would she stay tonight? In the little shit hole she found a few miles away that barely was standing? Or here? She kicked an arm out of her away and padded down the steps, tossing her bag into the backseat of the car. She'd gotten gas and a few more knives and a couple of bullets. She was gathering. Gathering supplies and trying to find a safe place for Mika and Lizzie. She couldn't leave them there. She wouldn't. She made a promise to their father, and she would keep it. She would keep those girls alive, no matter how. She just needed a place.

She sharpened her blade on the steps of the house she'd cleared. It was stable, and there were no major blood stains. It was actually really nice. The neighborhood had been cleared, so she found some clothes for the girls, some weapons and a few cans of beans and seeds. Mika would enjoy a garden. There was potting soil inside, and they could catch rain or get water from the river down a ways. Lizzie would like it.

She didn't allow herself to think Lizzie was weak, not anymore. She was tough, tougher than Sophia had ever been. She exhaled slowly and paused in sharping her blade. Sophia. She allowed herself two minutes to mourn the little girl who could've survived this world had her mother only been strong enough then. But she wasn't, and that little girl was someone else's slid show, as she'd put it while picking tomatoes and swiping stories with Rick only a few days ago.

Come on, Carol, don't do this. You need to get to Lizzie and Mika, the rest is unimportant. She stood up and prepared the car she'd acquired—one of the many things she'd picked up from Daryl. She headed back to the prison in the black, silent as the night wind, inconspicuous car. She waited until nightfall to drive the car a few minutes from the prison. She slipped out of the car and heard a commotion. She ducked down and saw something running across the yard.

– – –

Lizzie felt better with the medication, and she really wanted to see Carol now. And Mika. She was out and about by the third day of medication, but it was already late, so she went to find Carol before she went to get her last douse of pills, but when she got to her cell, Lizzie's smile died. It was—empty. Her clothes were in a bag under the bed as usual, but the bed was untouched, and Carol liked things clean, but she always was in here if it wasn't her watch.

She frowned and went to find Mika. Perhaps Carol was teaching them how to use knifes or something. She was caught by Rick exiting the prison. She swallowed and met his eyes bravely. "Hi."

"Hi." He crouched down. "What are you doin' out here? It's cold. You just got better."

"I want to see Carol. Where is she?" She searched his eyes and sensed something was wrong.

He rubbed his jaw. "Well, Lizzie, you see, the thing is—"

"What is it?" she interrupted. "Where is Carol? Don't make excuses."

He chuckled softly and nodded. "Carol is gone."

Her heart stopped. We're gonna make it. You, me, your sister—we're all gonna make it. No! No! She couldn't handle losing anyone else. Carol may not have been her mother, but she had a motherly air that no child could resist. That's why she'd called her mom. It was an accident, but...she meant it. Gone? Gone as in dead? Or gone as in she'll come back? Is Carol still out there? "Gone how?"

"She left." He didn't want to explain the details to a child, and as much as he hated lying to her, protecting her from the details was better. "She broke the rules, and she had to leave."

She left? No, Carol wouldn't have just left them. She made a promise to their dad to keep them safe. She wouldn't have just left them there. There was no way. She was a woman of her word, and she was going to take care of them, so there was more to this story. What was he not telling her? Did he...? "You kicked her out." She stepped back. "Why? What'd she do?"

"That doesn't matter. What matters is that you get inside and get into bed. You need rest."

Something inside her told her to run. She back away and then took off.

"Lizzie!" He went after her.

She was small, but younger and faster. She ran across the yard, stumbling slightly in the dark. She ran over to the gate and ducked down, crouching down. She backed up as Rick got closer, something grabbed the back of her shirt, and a hand covered her mouth so she wouldn't scream. Or, if she did scream, it wouldn't alert Rick of where she was. She was pulled out of the other hole, and she stumbled into Carol.

"Carol?" she whispered.

"Shh." She glanced at Rick then back at Lizzie. "We don't have long to talk, but I need you to do a few things for me, okay? Can you do that?"

She nodded.

"I need you to get Mika. Can you do that?"

"Get Mika? Are we coming with you?"

She nodded. "Yes. Be careful and quick."

"Okay. I'll meet you back here in a few minutes." She glanced over. "And you can tell me why you had to leave then." She disappeared back into the gate and ran across the field to get to the admissions office.

Carol hid once more and she waited about ten minutes before Lizzie came back. Alone. With a duffel bag. "Where's Mika?"

Lizzie was breathless. "She was too scared to come with us."

Carol frowned, but she couldn't exactly go in there and force her to come. She sighed and stood up. She didn't like it, but she had to leave before Rick or anyone else saw her. "I see." She took the duffel bag then paused, looking at the young girl. "Do you want to come or do you feel obligated to come?"

"I wanna come." She fell into step with Carol. "I'd rather be with you than... Well, I'd just rather be with you. You don't lie to us. Don't sugarcoat anything." She told them how it was and encouraged them, showed them they were all strong. Lizzie would never forget all Carol taught her.

Carol set a hand on her head and led her to the car, opening the door and setting her bag in the backseat. She drove them back to the house; Lizzie took a few pills that Bob had given her to help fight off the last of the cold and fell asleep on the way. Carol remembered when she and Sophia would go out without Ed—which was very rare—she would always fall asleep in the car on the way back. She'd have to carry her back inside, sadly Sophia, even at age twelve, was never "too big" to be carried inside. She was so small, so sweet...

She had to restrain her hand from reaching over and ruffling the blond hair to rouse Lizzie from her sleep when she parked in front of the house. She slid out of the car and closed the door, waking Lizzie, and she took the bag, holding the door open for Lizzie as she stumbled inside. Lizzie fell asleep on the couch, and Carol sat down with her back against the couch, knees upraise and let out a deep breath, holding her gun in her hand.

Mika.

––

Lizzie had fallen off the couch and was curled up against Carol, who'd fallen asleep for a split second, and she snuck over the window, peering out. The coast was clear. She let Lizzie sleep and went to get more boards from outside, dragging her hands down her face to try and wake herself up, and she opened the door back. To her surprise, a man stood just outside, squirrels resting on a rope at his hip, the crossbow in front of him, ready to shoot, and his eyes were focused. Until she'd opened the door, that is.

"Daryl?" She sounded surprised. How in the hell did he find her? Better yet: Why was she so surprised? It's Daryl. He could probably find a needle in a haystack. "What are you doing here?"

"Came to find you." He looked behind her. "Nice place." He stepped inside, loosening the rope. "Brought you somethin' to eat." He held it out to her.

"Daryl, why are you here? You must know." She didn't take the rope. "Rick must've told you, so why are you here? How did you even find me?"

"'Cause I care about you, that's why I'm here." He faced her. "I wanted to make sure you was okay. Also saw the tracks your car left, just followed' em."

"Well, I am okay." She crossed her arms. "You can leave now. Rick will need you back at the prison, and I have a busy day ahead of me, so thank you for the...squirrels, and have a nice trip back." She brushed by him and woke Lizzie. "Go upstairs, okay? Get settled."

Lizzie glanced at Daryl then did as she was told, curiously watching.

"You took the little girl?" Daryl sounded stunned.

"She's mine," she corrected. "I didn't take anything."

He scoffed. "I know why you did what you did. You were protectin' the group. Hell, Andrea shot me to protect the group. I get it."

Her eyes locked in his. "No, you don't."

"Try me." He stepped closer, not threatening her, more like daring her.

"I killed two people to protect the group, and they were ours. They were a part of our group, they were still alive, and I ended it. I stepped up and killed two people who I talked on a daily basis, liked even, trying to stop this from spreading, but it didn't work." She shrugged. "I didn't stop anything."

He searched her face and understood it now. He touched her shoulder, she stepped back, and he drew his hand back. "Hard-ass don't work on you."

She glared. "What does then?" she countered. "Crying my eyes out? Barely escaping walkers? Nearly dying and having to be saved by someone who just happened to be around? Does that work better on me?"

His faced hardened. "That what this is about? You bein' weak by showin' emotions?"

She scoffed, but he knew by that he was right. She didn't want to admit it, but he was right in a way. She didn't feel weak when she cried, it was a normal human thing to do, but crying reminded her of her old self—brought to tears by every little thing. That was no way to protect anyone, let alone herself. She had to be hard, strong, to survive this world, and she would do whatever it took. She wouldn't let anyone else die for her. No one.

"I ain't gonna let you pull away," he informed her, reminding her of their conversation many months—feeling likes years—ago.

She shook her head. "I have to feed Lizzie, and I have to board the windows. Go." She picked up the keys to the car. "And unless I'm wearin' walker ears, I'm just fine."

"Clashes with your eyes," he murmured.

She smiled softly, but when she turned, it was gone. "Goodbye, Daryl." She set her hand carefully on his arm, covered by his leather jacket, and placed a kiss on his cheek. She got the boards and nails from the car, but when she returned, he had unloaded his gear and was helping to board the windows with Lizzie.

He heard her exasperated sight. "Least I can do is help y'all get safe." He took the boards from her and the nails.

"Fine, but this is the last thing," she told him.

He didn't reply.

They had every window protected, all of their belongings in the bedroom of the first floor, two beds moved down there as well, Daryl did a lot of the heavy lifting while Carol and Lizzie moved items—like the couch and a dresser—in front of the door and low hanging windows. They all worked up an appetite, and worked well into the night, so Carol knew Daryl would be spending the night. She wouldn't risk him walking out there alone at night, not like before. It was too risky. Being caught by walkers was the last of her worries. He could get sick. He could be infected right now, so she wouldn't risk it.

Carol let Daryl show Lizzie how to skin and gut squirrels then roasted what meat there was over the fire with a can of beans. They split it three ways, and they ate in silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Lizzie fell asleep from all of the work, Daryl and Carol sat with their backs against the couch, facing the roaring fireplace. She hugged her legs closer and rubbed her neck, stiff, and Daryl made more bolts for the return trip.

"You ain't gonna come back with me?" he asked finally.

"Does being banned have no meaning to you?" she bitterly replied.

He stopped and turned his head toward her. "Do you even feel bad 'bout it?" He wanted to know.

"I don't regret it. I only regret not being able to stop it sooner." She rested her head on the cushion of the couch. "I don't like that I did it, just so you know," she murmured.

"I know." He went back to his work, blowing more shavings into the fire.

"Aren't you mad?" She turned her head to look at him. "Don't you no longer trust me? Wanna see me die out here alone? Anything like that?"

He blow on the tip of the bolt. "Seems like Rick has enough of that for all of us. Stood by why you did whatcha did, gotta respect that."

She smiled. "For that, I'll give you some fruit for the return trip."

"Ain't you a peach?"

They both laughed, and fell into a comfortable silent. She fell asleep to the sound of his knife running alone the wooden stick that would become a bolt and the popping fireplace.

––

She woke to a strange sound, she discovered Daryl was beside, their legs tangled in front of the fireplace, his knife pressing against her hip, and she sat up carefully. Lizzie had again "fallen" off the couch, so she stuck. She could see the sun had not come up, so she lied back down and rested her head on Daryl's arm. She studied the right side of his face as he sleep, her eyes always leading back to his lips. She'd considered what it would be like to have Daryl kiss her, but everything seemed to fall short. She spent most of her life in a loveless, abusive marriage, and the thought of someone like Daryl Dixon kissing her—slowly, softly or hot and rough—made her body jump start with emotions that she thought had died a long time ago. And watching him sleeping beside her made temptation so hard to resist. She reminded herself that Lizzie was beside her, and she closed her eyes.

She didn't fall back asleep, because Daryl sat up, repressing a strong urge to cough. Her eyes studied him as he fisted hand went to his mouth, and he let out a soft cough. She sat up carefully as to not wake Lizzy, and she noticed the glistening sweat on his forehead. He was swallowing hard, and she tensed. He was sick.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" he grumbled, groggily, clearing his throat.

She didn't reply. She reached out and set a hand on his forehead. He was very hot, and normally that was fine, because Daryl ran hot, but this was a fever, just like one she'd felt on Karen and David. "Are you sick?"

"'Course not." He knocked her hand off. "It's this damn fireplace and the body heat."

"You're sick." She heard the panic in her voice. "Stand up." She helped him to his feet.

"You're makin' a hassle over nothin'." He repressed another cough.

She led him into the bedroom and helped him onto the bed. "C'mon." She pulled his shirt off, leaving him in one shirt with cut-off sleeves. "Gotta bring that fever down." She removed his work boots and pulled the covers back.

"Knew you were always tryin' to get in bed," he mumbled, trying to lighten the mood.

She laughed. "All according to plan." She grabbed her bag from underneath the table and dug out some of the medicine she'd taken while salvaging supplies with Rick. They were a bit questionable, but it ought to help a bit. If it progressed, they'd have to get him to the prison. Oh, screw it. As soon as the sun rose, they'd go. She wouldn't risk him dying, not Daryl. "Here."

"Ain't takin' that. Don't need to. Just the damn fireplace."

"Daryl, take this now."

He took the disgusting liquid. "Happy?"

"Be happier if you weren't sick, but yes." She set her hand on his forehead then his cheeks. He was still hot, but hopefully the medicine brought down his fever. She noticed his eyes slightly close at her touch. "Lizzie and I'll make breakfast. Try to rest."

He rolled away from her and closed his eyes.

She closed the door and woke Lizzie. They cut up the peaches with the non-weapon knifes and spared some of the water to make it into a soup for Daryl, just in case he couldn't stomach it. They'd only been in there for an hour or two, but Daryl already seemed weaker, and Lizzie observed as Carol held it up to him so he could drink it.