Premise: Set during and after the events of the season six mid-season premiere episode "No Way Out," the relationship between Daryl and Carol is changed forever. This also contains references to my other story "To Live Again."

THE WALKING DEAD
"Starting Over"
by
Rapscallion

​

Daryl, Abraham, and Sasha were driving through the night to return to Alexandria. They had been held up by a group of bikers working for a man called "Negan," but Daryl had taken care of them with the RPG Abraham found in the town they had regrouped in. Daryl had earned a stab to the left shoulder blade from the biker that had tried to search him for weapons, and he could feel blood seep out of the wound every time he moved his left arm, but he blocked out the pain. He had to get back to Alexandria. He had to get back to Carol.

The closer they got to home, the more Daryl internally cursed himself for sticking with Rick's plan: Daryl, slowly riding his motorcycle, had been the bait that lured the herd of walkers trapped in the quarry and lead them 20 miles away from Alexandria. Abraham and Sasha followed in a jalopy to back him up.

The plan had been a disaster.

The herd broke out of the quarry moments after Rick and the group arrived to practice the march, forcing him to start the plan immediately. Admittedly, the plan worked the first couple of minutes, but the tail end of the herd had been lured away to Alexandria by the sound of a blaring horn; gunshots soon followed. Daryl broke off to return to Alexandria, leaving Abraham and Sasha to keep the rest of the herd moving forward. Rick got on the walkie-talkie and pleaded with them to stick with the plan; that they had to trust everyone in Alexandria to take care of themselves; then Rick's voice suddenly vanished.

As badly as Daryl wanted to keep on going to Alexandria, Rick's words struck a chord: he did trust Carol to take care of herself. Daryl turned the motorcycle around and went back to help Abraham and Sasha.

It was turning out to be the biggest mistake of his life.

Daryl was separated from Abraham and Sasha when they were fired upon by a group of Scavengers. Daryl was shot in the left arm, but luckily the bullet went clean through.

Daryl walked his motorcycle through a burnt forest, and hid it underneath some dead branches before he searched the area for any threats. He was ambushed and taken prisoner by two young women and a man. The younger girl went into diabetic shock and Daryl used the distraction to escape, but he tracked them down to return the insulin he stole while reclaiming his crossbow.

The Scavengers returned, this time hunting for the man and the two women, but Daryl lured one of their men into getting bit by a trapped walker. The Scavenger's Leader cut off the man's arm and led his group away, but it did little good for Daryl and his new companions, as the diabetic girl was soon bitten by a pair of child walkers who were trapped inside the charred remains of a greenhouse.

Daryl helped bury the girl, and asked the man the three questions that Rick, Carl, and Hershel had written to test people before they were accepted into the group: the man passed the test. Daryl took them to his motorcycle, and he told them to wait for him until he returned with Abraham and Sasha, but when the man saw the motorcycle, he pulled out his pistol and made Daryl surrender the bike and his crossbow. The man and woman quickly sped off, leaving Daryl wounded, bitter, and alone.

Daryl moved on through the burnt forest and found the source of its destruction: a fuel truck. It was slow, but it was a vehicle. Daryl hotwired it and drove back onto the road. He soon found Abraham and Sasha, and they all drove back to Alexandria.

Daryl had lost his motorcycle, but he accepted that. He lost his crossbow, but he accepted that, too. But as Daryl drove back to Alexandria he thought he had lost Carol and that frightened him.

 

It was nearly dawn by the time they had driven up to the gates of Alexandria. They immediately saw Glenn, shooting a pistol, and being cornered by a group of walkers. Daryl slammed on the breaks while Abraham and Sasha got out of the truck and scaled the wall. Glenn was out of bullets, and seemingly out of luck; then Abraham and Sasha opened fire on the walkers with their automatic rifles, mowing them down within seconds.

"Can you get the gate?" Abraham joked. "Appreciate it, pal!"

Maggie and Enid climbed down from their guard tower; moments later the gates to Alexandria swung open. Glenn ran forward and climbed into the fuel truck's passenger seat.

"We can...we can lead some of them away, but they're scattered," Glenn panted.

"No, get them all together. Won't have to lead them away," Daryl insisted.

Daryl put the fuel truck in drive and drove into Alexandria. It was then he saw how desperate the situation was: the walkers had knocked down a wall and were rampaging through the streets. He saw pockets of Alexandrians fighting back with knives and clubs, but he couldn't tell if Carol was amongst them.

Daryl stopped the truck and climbed out.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Glenn asked bewilderedly.

Daryl ignored the younger man, and looked for Abraham. Within seconds, he saw the former soldier running towards him; Sasha, Maggie, and Enid were close behind.

"You want to tell me what in the blue hell you're doing?" Abraham growled.

Daryl thumbed over at the fuel truck. "Feel like throwin' a barbeque?"

Abraham glanced at the fuel truck and grinned. "Out by-God-standing."

Abraham helped Sasha, Enid, and Maggie climb atop the tanker, and he climbed to the top himself. Daryl got behind the wheel again and drove slowly so they'd go unnoticed by the walkers. When the reached the pond, Daryl turned the fuel truck around, and backed it up to the pond's edge. Daryl climbed out and ran to the rear of the fuel truck while everyone except Enid kept the walkers at bay. Daryl opened the discharge valve and poured the remaining fuel into the pond. As the smell of fuel drifted into Daryl's nose, he looked for Carol, but he still couldn't see her amongst the survivors fighting off the walkers. His fists clenched together and he prayed—for the first time since his mother's funeral—that he wasn't too late to save Carol.

 

The last drops of fuel fell into the pond, and Daryl stood up and walked over to the front of the truck. Abraham had just leaped out of the cab with both the launcher and the case holding the remaining RPGs. Abraham opened the case, took out an RPG, and loaded it into the launcher. Daryl took the RPG from Abraham and climbed to the top of the tanker. Abraham, Maggie, Enid, and Glenn climbed into the truck. Sasha stayed outside, killing walkers with her knife.

Abraham slowly drove the truck away from the pond. After he'd moved the truck to a safe distance, Daryl pounded his hand against the roof of the cab. "Alright, that's it!" he shouted.

Abraham stopped the truck, while Daryl stood up, placed the RPG launcher against his shoulder and aimed down its iron sights at the pond.

FWOOSH!
BOOM!

The RPG ignited the fuel and a fireball rose into the air like a modest mushroom cloud. Daryl lowered the launcher to his side and the heat from the fireball struck him like a summer wind.

The explosion and the flames spreading across the pond caught the herds' attention and they began marching towards it. Daryl's companions ran away from the fuel truck, and Daryl stood almost mesmerized as he watched the herd wade into the inferno and become incinerated.

"Daryl!" Glenn shouted.

Daryl snapped out of it and looked down at the young Korean, who along with Maggie, were stabbing the few walkers attracted to their scent instead of the flames; Enid was behind them, kneeling on the ground with her arms wrapped around her chest and sobbing.

Daryl dropped the launcher, unsheathed his shop knife, and leapt off the tanker. A walker was coming up on Maggie's blind side, but when it saw Daryl it growled and changed its target. Daryl stabbed his knife into its forehead, withdrew the blade, and the dead walker fell to the ground like a scarecrow that fell off its perch.

"Hey! This way you shitbirds!" Abraham shouted.

Daryl and the others turned around and saw Abraham and Sasha waving at them before they ran through a gap in the herd. Daryl ran in their direction; slashing at any walkers that go in his way. Maggie pulled Enid to her feet, and together with Glenn, they ran after Daryl. The group made it to a street, but for every five walkers that marched into the pond of fire, one saw them or caught wind of their scent and marched towards them with their yellow eyes glowing in anger and their mouths growling in hunger. Daryl and his group drew their blades and screaming with rage, slashed at the growling walkers while the majority of the herd continued to march into the burgeoning inferno in the center of Alexandria.

 

The morning sun revealed the aftermath of the Battle of Alexandria: Black smoke drifted along the wind, the streets were littered with bodies, charred corpses floated in the pond, and the stench of death lingered in the air. Daryl staggered amongst the carnage, panting for breath, his heavy arms at his sides, his face and clothes splattered with blood, and his blood-stained shop knife clenched tightly in his right hand. Daryl occasionally heard the growl of a walker laying on the ground and he'd bend down, killed it with a stab to the temple or forehead with his shop knife, and he'd pull the knife free. Daryl would examine these dead walkers closely, making sure they weren't a member of his group; when he determined they weren't, he'd stand up and resume his fatigued march.

Daryl heard a woman crying, and he stopped and looked in the sound's direction. He saw a woman kneeling on the street, holding a dead man in her arms, with a group of Alexandrians behind her. Two women bent down and gently pried the widow's hands off her husband's body and pulled her away and guided her towards a house, and then one of the men took a hammer and bashed the corpse's brains out. The widow caught a glimpse of the man putting down her husband and her cries became louder and her friends hurried her inside the house and closed the door behind them. Daryl grimaced and looked away from the gruesome scene. It was then Daryl realized he'd wandered away from the administrative area and towards the residential areas. Daryl looked to his left and saw a garden hose, partially rolled out and laying on the center of the house's lawn. Daryl's parched throat felt like sandpaper and he decided to stop his search for Carol and get a drink of water.

Daryl walked onto the lawn, picked up the garden hose, and turned on the valve. Water burst from the spigot, stopped, and a stream of water poured out. Daryl held the garden hose up to his mouth, and drank like a boy on a hot summer day. He sighed, lowered the hose to his side, and looked at his bloodstained knife and hands. As he stood in a growing puddle of water, Daryl suddenly realized his soiled appearance so he bent down, placed his knife on the lawn, and washed his left hand and then exchanged the hose and washed his right hand. Blood slid off his hands and fingers like paint and fell onto the lawn and it stained the blades of grass.

Daryl now picked up his shop knife and ran it underneath the water. He took the handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped away the remaining blood and brain matter so the blade wouldn't rust. Daryl sheathed his knife, held the garden hose above him, and twitched the instant the cold water struck his scalp and rained down his face and soaked into his biker vest and shirt, but he relaxed and felt the exhaustion that had been weighing him down start to crumble. Daryl turned off the valve, dropped the garden hose, and stood up. He ran a hand through his wet hair as he walked onto the street to resume his search.

"Daryl?" a tired, familiar voice called from behind him.

A shock ran through Daryl's body, worse than the bullet that went through his left arm yesterday. He held his breath and turned around slowly.

It was Carol, in a white shirt stained with blood, green cargo pants, black boots, and the trench knife he had given her clenched in her right hand; her exhausted eyes went wide in surprise. Daryl ran towards Carol just like he did when he saw her in the forest outside Terminus. Carol dropped her knife and spread her arms out in preparation for Daryl's embrace.

Daryl crashed into Carol and flung his arms around her frame, pulling her close to him and lifting her off her feet. Carol winced in pain as Daryl unknowingly squeezed her bruised back too tightly, but she was overjoyed that Daryl was alive and had returned to Alexandria...and to her.

"Oh, thank God. Thank God. Thank God," Daryl cried onto Carol's shoulder. He set her down on her feet and put his hands on her shoulders.

"I knew you'd come back," Carol said smiling.

"I should've come back sooner," Daryl whimpered.

"But you're here now."

Daryl grunted in agreement. Tears started to run down Carol's face and she raised a hand to brush them away, but Daryl's hand came up first and gently cupped her face; he leaned forward and kissed her. Carol wrapped her arms around Daryl's neck and pulled him towards her as she kissed him back. They broke the kiss and stared at each other contently.

"Are you good?" Daryl asked.

Carol blinked as she recalled her fight with Morgan yesterday. Her back was bruised from the body slam he dealt her, but she was afraid to tell Daryl about it, because he'd kill Morgan, and from her personal experience, Rick would exile Daryl instead of allowing a killer to live amongst them. "Yes," Carol lied.

Daryl knelt down, picked up Carol's trench knife, and offered it to her; Carol smiled in gratitude and took the knife.

"Where's Rick?" Daryl asked.

Carol's smile faded and she lowered her head. Daryl put his hands on Carol's shoulders again, as he calmly waited for her to tell him the bad news.

"Rick...Rick's okay," Carol answered as she looked at Daryl, "but Carl was shot."

Daryl's mouth dropped open. "Shot?"

Tears began to well in Carol's eyes again. "Yes, in his right eye. I don't know how it happened. Denise's working on him in the infirmary, and Rick's keeping vigil but...I don't think Carl's going to make it."

Daryl gently pulled Carol into his arms and she wept. Daryl was dumbstruck. Carl had been shot, but he was a tough kid. Daryl instantly thought he'd pull through, but as he and Carol walked side-by-side to the infirmary, he had to admit to himself that the chances of surviving a gunshot wound to the head were low.

 

Daryl sat on the examining table while Denise stitched the knife wound on his left shoulder. Denise had also examined the bullet wound to Daryl's left arm, but she told Daryl what he already knew: the bullet went clean through and he was lucky. Daryl wished he could give that luck to Carl.

The infirmary was empty except for Denise and Daryl. The former psychologist was literally leaning medicine on the job and she ordered everyone who was injured to form a line and wait outside on the porch. Daryl had looked over his shoulder and caught Carol peeking through the window to see if he was alright.

Rick and Carl were in the next room. The door was open, and Daryl could hear Rick talking to his son; Daryl wanted to be respectful and tried to ignore what Rick was saying. He wanted to ask Denise how Carl was, but he couldn't think of the right words, and judging from Denise's worried expression she had no idea on Carl's condition anyway.

The front door opened. Denise growled angrily and spun around at the intruder. "Look, I know there are a lot of hurt people out there, but I'm working as quickly as I—"

"Is Daryl alright?" Carol asked worriedly.

Daryl blushed and hunched even lower on the examining table.

Denise glared at Carol and looked at Daryl's scarred back. "Yeah, he's going to be fine."

Carol smiled in relief.

"This is certainly a surprise," Denise grumbled as she resumed stitching Daryl's wound. "I thought you were one of them, crying about their bruises while there's a poor kid laying in that bedroom with half his face shot off."

Carol glanced at the bedroom where Carl was recuperating and she looked back at Denise suturing Daryl's wound.

Denise reached for her suture scissors and cut the residual thread. "All set," she said curtly.

"Thanks," Daryl muttered as he stood up from the examining table. He picked his shirt up from a chair and slipped it on, followed by his biker vest. As Daryl buttoned his shirt, he heard Rick half talking, half whimpering to Carl again. Daryl shook his head and headed for the front door, Carol was by his side.

"He saved my life, Carol," Denise said.

Daryl and Carol both turned around and looked at Denise, glaring angrily at the older woman.

"That...Wolf Leader and I were out in the street surrounded by walkers. I could've been swarmed easily, but he got bit protecting me. He died protecting me."

"Denise—"

"He died because you shot him!" Denise shouted.

Daryl looked at Carol, and she was staring at Denise, with a shocked expression on her face.

"You said he was a killer, but the truth is you're the killer!" Denise continued. "What gives you the right to decide who lives or who dies? Is it because you've lasted this long? Well, screw you. You've been lucky. One day your luck's going to run out, and nobody's going to mourn you, because I'll tell everyone you're a killer!"

Daryl took a step forward as he pointed an angry finger at Denise. "Hey, shut the hell—"

SLAM!

Daryl turned around and saw Carol had left the infirmary. Daryl opened the front door and saw Carol hurriedly walking away, leaving the confused members of Rick's group and the Alexandrians in her wake. Daryl ran across the porch, leapt off the steps, and caught up to the grey haired woman.

"Carol—"

"I'm fine, Daryl," Carol said as she whipped a hand across her eyes.

"Bullshit," Daryl said.

"Daryl...can't...you leave me alone?" Carol pleaded.

"I ain't leavin' you alone. Not again."

Carol stopped walking and looked wide-eyed at Daryl.

"What the hell was Denise talkin' about?" Daryl asked.

Carol wiped her tears away and said nothing.

"A group attacked while I was gone, huh?"

Carol sniffled and nodded.

Daryl balled his hands into fists and he looked back at the infirmary. He remembered hearing the gunshots and riding back to Alexandria, only to turn around after Rick pleaded over the walkie-talkie for everyone to stick to the plan. "Rick, you son of a bitch," he growled.

"It's not his fault, Daryl," Carol said.

"Well, it sure as shit ain't your fault," Daryl argued.

Carol smiled for a moment but lowered her head sadly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Daryl asked.

"No," Carol answered while shaking her head.

Daryl said nothing; he placed his hand on Carol's shoulder and she looked up at him.

"I've got to find Sam," Carol said.

"Who? That pain in the ass kid?" Daryl asked.

Carol nodded, not noticing Daryl's slight insult to the boy. "I checked his house, I checked our house. I have to find him, Daryl. I have to."

"Alright," Daryl said. "There's a lot of places for him to hide, but we'll find him, Carol, we'll find him."

Carol nodded hopefully, and she and Daryl began their search for young Sam Anderson.

 

Daryl and Carol found Sam...or what was left of him.

Sam's body had been torn apart and his skull was shattered. Daryl and Carol were only able to identify Sam by his haircut. The boy's brain had been partially consumed, giving them the small consolation that the boy never turned. Sam was wearing a tarp covered in blood and guts, meaning he tried to walk through the herd. Carol cried on Daryl's shoulder, unable to take a second look at the boy's remains.

A low growl rose from the street. Daryl looked a few yards away and saw that the remains of Sam's mother Jessie, had turned and was snapping at them as it waved the stump that had been her left arm. Jessie was wearing a gore stained tarp too, so Daryl thought that Rick and Carl must've been with them and escaped when they got swarmed.

Carol, still crying, turned her head and looked down at Jessie's bloody, shattered body.

Daryl let go of Carol and unsheathed his shop knife. "It's okay. I've got this," he assured her.

Carol ran her arm across her eyes, glared at Jesse, and unsheathed her trench knife.

Daryl moved forward and raised his arm, knife at the ready.

Carol ran forward suddenly and knelt down beside Jessie's torso; she raised her arm, and the blade gleamed in the sunlight.

SHLUKK! SHLUKK! SHLUKK!

By the time Daryl realized what Carol had done, she was standing up, with her trench knife dripping blood and brain matter.

"You stupid bitch!" Carol shouted angrily at the dead corpse. "How could you let this happen? Why didn't you protect him?! He was your son!!"

Carol would never get answers to those questions.

There was a growl behind Daryl, and he spun around to see Ron, the oldest Anderson boy, had turned and was staggering towards him. Ron, like his family, wore a tarp covered in blood and guts.

Daryl moved forward, grabbed Ron by the neck, and stabbed him in the forehead with the shop knife. Daryl withdrew the knife and stepped aside to let the teenager fall face first to the ground. Daryl glared down at the dead boy and saw a spent shell casing laying beside him. Daryl looked around and saw a Beretta 92FS pistol; he bent down, picked up the pistol, stared at it for a few moments, and tucked it behind the small of his back. Daryl took one last look at the Anderson family and shook his head, realizing that Rick tried to lead them through the heard, and that Ron was the one who shot Carl in the eye.

Daryl looked to his right and saw Carol staring down at Jessie, trembling with rage. "Carol," he said.

Carol didn't respond.

"Carol," Daryl repeated louder.

Carol looked at Daryl, her eyes were red from all the tears she had shed this morning.

"I'm sorry," Daryl said.

Carol stared silently at Daryl for a moment, and she walked past him. Daryl watched Carol walking away for a few moments and he hurriedly caught up to her. They didn't speak until they reached the group's house.

 

Carol sat on the top step of the group's house, staring down at the red "A" painted on the side of the handrail she had noticed yesterday. Now Carol realized Sam had painted it and it was her last connection to the boy. Daryl stepped out of the house, the Beretta 92FS pistol in his right hand; he closed the door and sat down beside Carol.

"The house is clear," Daryl said.

Carol didn't reply. Daryl set the Beretta 92FS down beside him and dug through his biker vest pocket for his pack of Parliament cigarettes. He put a cigarette between his lips, took out his Zippo lighter, and lit the cigarette. Daryl took a deep puff, blew out the smoke, and watched the cloud drift away into the sky.

"Give me one of those," Carol said coldly.

Daryl looked stunned at Carol, but she nodded. Daryl reached back into his vest pocket, took out the pack, and gave a cigarette to Carol. Carol put the cigarette between her lips, and Daryl lit it with his Zippo lighter. Carol took a puff and blew out the smoke, and was suddenly wracked with a short coughing fit.

"Hope you learned your lesson," Daryl quipped.

"Stop," Carol coughed as she held the cigarette between her fingers.

Daryl and Carol sat quietly on the steps, smoking. Carol coughed once in a while, but handling the discomfort of smoking was slowly coming back to her.

"Don't let her get to you," Daryl said.

Carol looked at Daryl, who was looking straight ahead.

"Denise," Daryl explained, "what the hell does she know? She doesn't know medicine, that's for damn sure."

Carol smiled at Daryl. "Thank you," she said sincerely.

Daryl grunted in acknowledgment, and they continued to smoke. Minutes passed silently between them until Daryl groaned in disgust, "Christ Almighty. Here comes Dexter, Boy Genius."

Carol looked up and saw Eugene, tired and bloody, walking towards them. Eugene moved up the walkway and stopped at the foot of the steps.

"Good afternoon, fellow survivors," Eugene said proudly, "it's a glorious day."

Daryl and Carol stared down at Eugene, took a drag on their cigarettes, and puffed out the smoke. Eugene shifted his stance uncomfortably.

"I thought it necessary to inform you both that Rick addressed the community five minutes previously and said that Carl is alive and recovering from his gunshot wound."

Carol smiled, bowed her head, and gave a silent prayer of thanks for Carl surviving his traumatic injury.

"You both also need to be aware that Rick has called for volunteers to rebuild the wall that collapsed and brought forth yesterday's unpleasantness. Rick also announced that tomorrow we'll bury our deceased and begin collecting the walkers for a substantial bonfire that will be built outside the walls and downwind from this community."

Daryl removed his cigarette and puffed out the smoke. "You lost me at 'You both also need to be aware.'"

Eugene blinked. "Uh...Rick needs volunteers for rebuilding the wall."

Daryl sneered and gave Eugene the Finger.

"Uh..." Eugene said.

"Daryl," Carol scolded.

"No. Rick's the leader, the man with the plan. I'll bet you both five smokes that Rick's plan for fixin' the wall ends up crushin' half of these dumb bastards."

"Uh, Rick will not be drawing schematics for repairing the wall," Eugene explained, "that is my task, and Abraham will supervise the reconstruction."

"Oh, shit. That's a relief, Dexter," Daryl quipped. "How about you build a plan to take all of us to Bermuda instead?"

"Daryl," Carol scolded with a bit more authority. The redneck glanced at the woman, saw the disappointed look on her face, and lowered his head in embarrassment.

"These people need you. They'll be more confident rebuilding the wall if they see you're there to protect them."

Daryl grumbled, took a long drag on his cigarette, blew out the smoke, and glared at Eugene. "Get lost," he ordered.

Eugene nodded, turned around and walked away, leaving Daryl and Carol alone again.

"You've got your gun, right?" Daryl asked as he watched Eugene walking away.

Carol touched the walnut grip of the Colt Detective Special holstered at her side. "Yes," she said.

Daryl took another drag on his cigarette and blew out the smoke. "Go back to the infirmary; if any more shit breaks out you can protect Carl."

Carol took a drag on her cigarette, blew out the smoke, and nodded. "Right," she said.

Daryl looked at Carol. She was staring at the spot where Eugene had stood. "I know you're upset about Sam. He was a good kid, but his death ain't your fault, savvy?"

"Yes," Carol answered in a whisper.

"It ain't your fault," Daryl repeated with a hint of anger. "I'd tell you if it was. If you want to hear a line of bullshit, I'll call Eugene back and he'll bullshit again about bein' a doc for the CIA."

Carol smiled and then she began to giggle and it became a laugh. Daryl grinned, put his cigarette between his lips, and picked up the Beretta 92FS pistol; he stood up and tucked the pistol against the small of his back while he looked up and down the street for walkers. Carol took a final drag on her cigarette, stood up, blew out the smoke and ground out the cigarette on the porch. Daryl and Carol walked down the steps and headed towards the crowd gathered outside the infirmary.

 

Daryl stood in the field armed with a Benelli M4 Super 90 shotgun. The Benelli was an automatic shotgun, and it had an extended stock which caught Daryl's eye. It wasn't the same as his Stryker Strykezone 380 crossbow, but what it lacked in stealth and familiarity it made up for in speed and firepower.

Morgan stood nearby, leaning on his staff like a Buddhist hermit. Three Alexandrians were with them, armed with automatic rifles or pump action shotguns. They were keeping their tired eyes open for any walkers while Abraham and his crew rebuilt the wall, but none had appeared on the road or out of the woods.

Daryl turned his head and studied Morgan; he seemed deep in thought. Morgan had volunteered to stand guard, but had refused a firearm of any kind. Daryl wanted to refuse Morgan's offer, but since the man saved him and Aaron from the Wolves' walker traps, he felt that he owed Morgan the opportunity to help protect Alexandria.

Daryl thought about the "Alpha Wolf" Denise had cried over back in the infirmary. Carol must've been the one who killed the Wolves he found dead in Alexandria, but how was their leader captured? Daryl thought Morgan was responsible. When Morgan saved him and Aaron, he said all life is precious; who talks like that unless they're a pacifist? Daryl guessed Morgan pulled some of those Kung Fu moves on the Alpha Wolf, and then locked him up in his basement. But how did the Alpha Wolf get free, how did he kidnap Denise, and why did Carol feel so guilty for killing the son of a bitch?

Daryl thought about asking Morgan, but the Alexandrians with them would certainly eavesdrop. He could ask Denise, but she proved to be an impartial witness. Also, Daryl was still pissed off at Denise for shouting at Carol.

That left one person in Alexandria who could give Daryl the answers he needed.

 

Night had fallen over Alexandria, but not everyone in the group was going home. Rick was staying in the infirmary to keep watch over Carl, and Michonne insisted on staying with them, and they had a crib brought in for Judith. Abraham was guarding the repaired wall; Rosita and Eugene temporarily moved into a vacant house closest to the wall in case he needed help. Sasha kept watch in one of the guard towers...although she occasionally gave Abraham a secret glance now and again. Tara was spending the night at Denise's house. Morgan went back to his house. Father Gabriel went back to his church. Daryl roamed the streets, the Benelli shotgun slung across his back, and a lit cigarette between his lips. Glenn, Maggie, Enid, and Carol went back home.

 

Carol, clad in a terrycloth bathrobe, opened the door to her bedroom and stepped inside. The shower she'd taken had rejuvenated her, but she was happy to go to bed. Carol removed her bathrobe, slipped on a pair of green sleep shorts, and gingerly put on the matching green sleep shirt.

Carol draped the bathrobe over the vanity table's chair, raised the window's blinds, and turned the light switch off. Now bathed in moonlight, Carol walked over to the bed, and checked the top of the nightstand; her Colt Detective Special was where she left it. Carol pulled the covers back, climbed into bed, laid on her side, and pulled the covers up to her shoulders. After the exhausting horrors of the last 24 hours, she quickly fell asleep after taking a few steady breaths.

 

"AHHH!!"

The scream pulled Carol out of her slumber and she sprung up, wide-eyed. She spun around for the Colt Detective Special, grabbed it with both hands and aimed the revolver at the bedroom door.

"AHHH! Walkers! Everywhere! Let me go! Maggie!" Glenn screamed.

Carol blinked and she lowered her gun; Glenn—who occupied the bedroom next door with Maggie—was having a nightmare. She listened as Glenn wept and babbled incoherently while Maggie whispered soothing words to calm him down. Carol placed her gun back on the night stand and winced; the bruises on her back flared up, weaker, but still a discomfort. Carol laid on her side and held on to the covers tightly. It took her a long time to fall back to sleep.

 

KNOCK KNOCK.

Carol sat up, rubbed her eyes and blinked at the bedroom door, uncertain if someone had knocked or if she had dreamt it.

KNOCK KNOCK.

Carol's confused look turned into an icy glare. She flung the covers to the side, climbed out of bed, threw on the terrycloth bathrobe, and flung the door open.

Daryl was standing in front of her.

Carol blinked.

"Hey," Daryl said.

"D...Daryl?" Carol stammered. "What are...Why...?"

"Can I come in?" Daryl asked hopefully.

Carol clutched the bathrobe to her throat and blushed, but she stepped aside. Daryl nodded his thanks and stepped inside her bedroom. Carol closed the door and watched Daryl as he walked towards the far wall and looked out the window at the street below.

"Do you have a reason for waking me up?" Carol asked irritably.

Daryl turned around, leaned against the wall, and grunted. "Tell me about the Alpha Wolf," he asked.

Carol gasped and her eyes widened. As soon as the shock wore off Carol looked down at the floor. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You may not want to, but I think you need to," Daryl said.

Carol huffed in anger. "Oh, my God. Can't you please leave me alone?"

Daryl shook his head. "I can't do that."

"Shit," Carol grumbled as she folded her arms across her chest. "Okay, you win."

Carol walked over to the vanity table, sat down cross legged on the chair, and sighed deeply. "When Rick came back, he practically had the herd snapping at his heels. There was no place for us to go, nothing we could do, just wait; wait for the walkers to tear down the walls, or wait for you and the others to come back."

Daryl lowered his head, the anger over sticking to Rick's plan coming back to him.

"I caught Morgan taking Denise into the basement of his house. I knew something was going on; I mean, what other reason would Morgan have to be sneaking our lone medic into his basement unless he was hiding someone who was hurt. So I confronted him."

"What did he say?" Daryl asked.

"Nothing," Carol replied. "That's when we heard a large crash outside. Morgan and I ran out into the street and saw a part of the wall had collapsed and the walkers were pouring in. We were running back to his house when I fell and hit my head; it wasn't bad, but I made it look worse than it was."

"Why the hell would you do that?"

"So Morgan would let me inside his house; I waited for my chance and I took it: I knocked him down, ran down to the basement, nd there he was, with Denise treating him like he was a member of this community. I was going to use my knife; a gunshot would've attracted the walkers. Unfortunately, Morgan got in-between and the wolf, and tried to talk me out of doing what needed to be done."

Carol looked over at Daryl, and saw how intently he was listening. She knew the next part of her story where she fought Morgan and he body slammed her onto the floor would enrage Daryl, so she decided to leave it out.

"He slipped past us and took Denise hostage. They got outside with the walkers, so we couldn't go after them. I went upstairs to the balcony, and I saw them, trying to reach the wall. I shot him, and told Denise to run. She ran, and the walkers got him."

Carol sighed and looked over again at Daryl. "That's what happened, Daryl. He's dead, and we're alive."

 

Daryl looked at the floor. "So that's why Denise is pissed off at you, because you saved her from a killer?"

"No, it's because I..." Carol stopped talking when she realized she had dropped her guard; she looked sadly at the floor.

Daryl stepped forward, took Carol's hand and gently pulled her to her feet. Carol gazed into Daryl's eyes, despite her wanting to look away.

"There's somethin' you ain't tellin' me," Daryl said softly. "It's alright. us tell me what happened."

"Before I...shot him, he was protecting Denise from the walkers. And after I shot him, he...threw himself at the walkers...so Denise could escape. She never would've made it if he hadn't of done that."

Carol shook her head and looked up at Daryl. "He was a killer. He led a gang of killers. But Denise is alive because of him. Maybe Morgan was right, maybe if I hadn't gotten involved—"

"If you hadn't, sooner or later we would've found out about Morgan's guest. Do you think these people would want that son of a bitch livin' here?" Daryl asked.

Carol thought back to Karen and David; dying of the flu, and Lizzie; the confused girl who who killed her little sister Mika. Carol had killed the three of them to keep others safe. Rick had exiled her for Karen and David, but after she saved him and the group from the cannibals in Terminus, he seemed to understand her actions. That would change if he ever found out about Lizzie and Mika. And would Daryl understand, or would he call her a killer too?

Tears welled up in Carol's eyes, and she finally tore her gaze away from Daryl. "We'll never know, because I took matters into my own hands again."

"Hey, don't blame yourself," Daryl said. "The old rules ain't worth shit anymore. Just because we've got a roof over our heads, and some congresswoman gave us jobs, doesn't mean we're back to payin' our taxes. All that matters now is that we survive and hold our heads high."

Carol smiled and wiped the tears away from her eyes. Daryl wrapped his hands around Carol and pulled her towards him for an embrace, but he hugged her too tightly and she winced.

Daryl stepped back, his hands on Carol's arms. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Carol went pale. "Nothing," she said quickly.

"The hell nothin'," Daryl argued.

Daryl brushed Carol's hands away from her terrycloth robe and quickly untied it's belt. He pulled the robe down to her elbows, stood beside her, and tugged at the collar of her sleep shirt so he could look down her back; Carol's bruises her fading, but they covered most of her back.

"Who did this to you?" Daryl asked coldly as he stood in front of Carol.

Carol pulled the robe back onto her frame and trembled; not in fear of Daryl, but in fear of what might happen if he attacked Morgan. "It's nothing serious—"

"Who hurt you?!" Daryl shouted.

"M--Morgan," Carol stammered.

Daryl's hands balled into fists and he exhaled through his nose like a bull waiting to be let loose on the bullfighter.

"He didn't mean it," Carol pleaded, remembering immediately it was the same excuse she'd tell the police when they'd ask if she wanted to file domestic abuse charges on Ed. "He was protecting that killer, and he grabbed me and threw me to the floor—"

"Son of a bitch!" Daryl shouted.

"Daryl, please—" Carol pleaded as she tried to put her arms around the gruff archer, but he swatted her hands away.

"I'm goin' to stomp his goddamn ass!" Daryl shouted as he moved towards the bedroom door.

Carol gasped. Various scenarios ran quickly through her mind: Daryl kills Morgan. Morgan kills Daryl. Daryl kills Morgan and Rick exiles him from Alexandria. Daryl attacks Morgan and is badly injured.

Daryl turned the door knob and started to open the door. Carol ran forward and flung her arms around Daryl's waist, forcing him forward and closing the door.

"Don't leave me, Daryl!" Carol pleaded.

Daryl froze, his chest pressed against the bedroom door.

"If you go through with this, I'll lose you," Carol cried. "I can't lose you, Daryl. I can't."

Daryl stepped back from the door and Carol loosened her hold on him. Daryl turned around and wrapped his arms around Carol and pulled her close. "Alright, I'll stay. I'll stay," he promised.

 

To Carol, it felt like a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She smiled and her hands framed Daryl's face and she gazed into his eyes. Daryl gazed back at Carol and his thumb gently brushed against the edge of her lips. A moment later he lowered his head and kissed her.

Pleasant memories now ran through Carol's mind: Daryl giving her a Cherokee rose after his first day of his search for Sophia; their first kiss on the bridge overlooking the prison's courtyard. The first night they had sex; their reunion outside the flaming ruins of Terminus, and her comforting him because he couldn't express his grief over Beth's death.

"Daryl," Carol purred, her eyes lidded, "make love to me."

Daryl nodded and kissed Carol again. Her hands slid up his back and her fingers got tangled in his long, dirty hair. Daryl's hands went to the collar of Carol's terrycloth bathrobe and gently tugged; when Carol realized what Daryl wanted her to do, she let go of his hair and spread her arms out, and he brushed the robe off her body and it pooled around her feet. Daryl's arms encircled Carol's frame again, and he hugged her as gently as he could without aggravating the bruises on her back.

Carol's fingers ran up and down his neck and parted his motorcycle vest and grabbed his heavy shirt. Carol broke their kiss and she and Daryl panted softly for air. "Come on," she whispered.

Daryl nodded and kissed Carol again. She slowly moved backwards towards the bed, pulling him along with her. The back of Carol's legs hit the bed, and Daryl wrapped one arm around her waist, and pressed her to his chest while he held out his other arm to lean on the mattress and control their fall. When Daryl's body pressed down on Carol's, their kissing intensified, and although the pressure aggravated her bruises, she ignored the pain.

Their lips separated and Daryl raised himself up slightly and looked down at Carol. "You need to know somethin'," Daryl whispered, as if he was about to tell Carol a secret, "yesterday, when I gave up on Rick's plan, I wasn't comin' back for this town...I was comin' back for you. I only turned back because Rick said we had to trust everyone here to take care of themselves. I trust you. You're strong. You're the strongest woman I've ever known."

Carol smiled and she raised her right hand to cup Daryl's cheek. He took hold of her wrist, kissed it, the palm of her hand, and he lowered his head and kissed her lips. Carol's hands moved to his heavy shirt and she started to unbutton it. When the shirt was loose, Daryl sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and removed his shirt and biker vest.

Carol sat up and moved behind Daryl's back. She placed her hands on his shoulders and looked at the scars his father inflicted on him during his teen years. "Why did your father do that to you?" she asked sadly.

Daryl looked over his shoulder at Carol. "When I was a kid, I thought he beat me because I deserved it. But now...I think it was because he hated me." Daryl snorted and looked down at his boots. "He hated mom and Merle too. I think that bastard didn't have a kind bone in his whole damn body."

Carol closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around Daryl's shoulder's and leaned into his back. "I know how you feel. Ed did the same thing to me, and I ended up believing I deserved it, too."

Daryl touched Carol's hands and gently squeezed them. Carol smiled.

Daryl dug through his biker vest's pockets and produced a wrapped condom and held it between his fingers. "Ta-dah," he sang.

Carol slumped against Daryl's back and sighed dramatically. "Oh, just when I thought I needed to say a prayer to forgive us of our impending sin."

"God ain't takin' requests anymore," Daryl quipped as he untied his Timberland boots.

"Do you really believe that?" Carol asked as she kissed Daryl's neck. "You're still here. I'm still here."

Daryl kicked off his Timberland boots, pulled off his socks and turned around slightly, his fingers brushing through the hairs along Carol's temple. "Honestly, this afternoon I said my first prayer in a damn long time...and here you are." Daryl leaned forward and kissed Carol. When the broke apart, Daryl began to unbuckle his jeans, while Carol sank down onto the bed. Daryl stood up and let his jeans drop to his feet; his boxers followed and he sat down on the bed and tried to open the condom wrapper.

"Looks complicated," Carol teased while she lay on her side with her hand propping her head up.

"These wrappers were man's worst enemy before all this shit went down," Daryl quipped.

Carol giggled. Daryl finally peeled the wrapper open and removed the condom. He quickly massaged his ***** and applied the condom to it, and he turned around and smiled at Carol, who smiled in return. Daryl crawled up the bed and was careful to not put too much of his weight atop Carol's body; they kissed passionately and Carol moaned with pleasure as she wrapped her arms around Daryl's neck.

Daryl broke the kiss, took a few breaths, and began placing kisses on Carol's cheeks and neck. His hand slid underneath her green sleep shirt and kneaded her breasts. Daryl inadvertently put his full weight atop Carol and she winced and cried lightly.

"Are...are you alright?" Daryl asked as he lifted himself up.

"Yes," Carol grimaced a bit. "It's just...those damn bruises."

"Maybe...maybe we should call it a night," Daryl suggested reluctantly, "get some sleep and wait until you're healed."

Carol shook her head and her hand cupped the side of Daryl's face. "No. It's been weeks since we've been alone." She slowly pulled him down to lay beside her. "And after all we went through yesterday...we both need this."

 

Carol crawled atop Daryl and kissed him. Daryl's hands slid up and down Carol's back until he grasped her sleep shirt and began pulling it up to her head; Carol broke their kiss, sat up, pulled off the sleep shirt, and threw it to the floor.

Daryl put his hands behind his head and gazed appreciatively at Carol, who leaned down as her hands glided up Daryl's chest and kissed his lips, his cheeks, and his neck.

Daryl put his arms around Carol's body and rolled her onto her back; the bruises flared up again, making Carol wince in pain, but Daryl's kisses to her neck made her moan in pleasure. Daryl slowly moved down Carol's body, kissing her breasts, her stomach, and her navel, before hooking his fingers around her sleep shorts and pulling them down; Carol lifted her legs and Daryl sat up, pulled the sleep shorts past her feet and threw them over his shoulder; he then crawled up alongside her body, and they kissed passionately as their hands caressed each other.

Carol winced and Daryl pulled his hands away from her. "Sorry," he said quickly, "I didn't mean to squeeze you too—"

"It's alright," Carol interrupted as she rolled onto her stomach. "Dammit, I would have to get my back messed up yesterday."

"Havin' second thoughts about lettin' me stomp Morgan's ass?" Daryl quipped as he laid on his back.

Carol curled up against Daryl's side and traced a circle on his chest with her index finger. "Maybe," she joked.

Daryl yawned. "Let's just get some sleep."

"No, no, Pookie," Carol chided as she lifted herself up and looked down at Daryl. "You've got a job to do, and you're going to do it."

"Yes, ma'am," Daryl grinned.

 

Carol straddled Daryl's pelvis, lifted herself up slightly, put her hand on Daryl's erection, and moaned as she guided it into her. Daryl placed his hands on Carol's hips, and her hands grasped his wrists as she began to slowly glide up and down Daryl's erection.

Daryl closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of Carol riding him. They had occasional trysts while living in the prison, and the group was none the wiser, but that had become impossible since arriving in Alexandria. He loved her, even though he still couldn't say the words, but he wanted so badly to tell her that, and to help her deal with the grief she was dealing with.

Daryl opened his eyes to watch as Carol continued gliding up and down his erection. He groaned in pleasure and she leaned down and kissed him.

Carol sat up straight again and began sliding up and down Daryl's erection more quickly. The minutes ticked by as they gasped for air or moaned in pleasure. Daryl felt the climax surging within him and he held it back for as long as he could until he sprang up and he and Carol wrapped their arms around each other, and they both moaned in unison as it ran through their groins. Carol held Daryl's face in her hands, kissed him, and with her last ounce of strength, dismounted from Daryl's erection, and went limp in his arms.

Daryl eased Carol down onto the bed, and made sure she lay on her side with her head atop a pillow. Daryl's weary eyes searched for the covers, and he found them draped over Carol's side of the bed; he pulled them up to his and Carol's shoulders, and her eyes fluttered open and she smiled tiredly at Daryl, who grunted in amusement and slid his arms around her waist and pulled her into his embrace. Carol fell sleep, and a minute later Daryl was asleep too.

 

Several nights later, Carol stepped outside the group's home and sat down on the top step. The dead had been buried, the walkers carted outside the walls and burned, and the wall had been repaired. The group and the people of Alexandria were starting to move on and forget what happened and who they lost.

Carol reached into the pocket of her cardigan sweater and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She opened the pack, took out a cigarette, put it between her lips and lit it. She took a drag on the cigarette, blew out the smoke, and looked at the handrail; the red "A" Sam had painted was gone, washed away by someone from the group. Carol wondered if the person even stopped to wonder who painted it or what it meant, and she took another drag on her cigarette and blew out the smoke.

Carol knew there was nothing left for her to remember Sam now, and she should behave like everyone else: mourn a few days, visit his grave occasionally, and one day, she wouldn't be able to remember the boy's face or his name.

Carol took a drag on her cigarette, blew out the smoke, and lowered her head. She knew that she couldn't forget Sam any more than she could her daughter Sophia, or Lizzie and Mika. It was easy for the others to forget about people, but not her, and that was because she had known so few people. She had been alone during her childhood and early adulthood, and after she married Ed, he isolated her from her parents, and years later they wound up dying in a filthy retirement home that Ed claimed was the best he could find on her parents' savings.

The minutes ticked by and Carol continued to smoke her cigarette. The harsh memory of Ed made her think about the abusive Pete Anderson and if she had killed him herself, instead of going to Rick, would Sam still be alive? Rick would've exiled her again, but could've accepted that; she was a killer, just like Denise said days earlier. She had intended to leave the group, but matters compelled her to stay. What was keeping her with them now?

Carol sighed and looked at the walls. Tomorrow she could gather up a few supplies and go over the walls before dawn. The group would search for her of course, but if she got far enough away, they'd give up and eventually forget about her, and she would be alone and survive until she ran across the walkers or the group that would finally kill her. If that was justice, fate, or her luck finally running out like Denise had predicted, then so be it.

 

"Hey, a voice called out in the darkness.

Carol blinked and saw a shadow walking towards her. A moment later the shadow stepped out into the porch light and revealed itself to be Daryl, with the Benelli M4 Super 90 shotgun slung over his shoulder.

"Daryl," Carol said with surprise, as she straightened her posture.

Daryl stood at the foot of the steps and adjusted the weight of the shotgun on his shoulder. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, pointing at the empty spot next to Carol.

Carol shrugged. Daryl walked up the steps, leaned the shotgun against the porch rail, and sat down beside Carol.

"I didn't know you had sentry duty tonight," Carol said, looking at the walls again.

Daryl dug into the pocket of his biker vest and took out his pack of Parliaments and his Zippo lighter. "I didn't," he said as he opened the pack and took out a cigarette "I figured I'd lend those lazy bastards a hand. Most of them are still beat, you know."

Carol didn't reply and took a drag on her cigarette and blew out the smoke. Daryl lit his cigarette, took a drag and blew out the smoke too.

"How are you holdin' up?" Daryl asked.

"Fine," Carol answered coldly.

Daryl glanced at Carol, took a drag on the cigarette and blew out the smoke. "Fine," he muttered.

Carol lowered her head and rubbed her temple. She wanted so badly to tell Daryl to leave her alone or go inside the house, but she couldn't.

"Well?" Daryl asked.

Carol looked at Daryl, confused. "Well what?"

Daryl shrugged. "Aren't you goin' to ask about me? I mean, you're not in this shit alone. Don't you wonder about me anymore?"

Carol shook her head, her anger at Daryl finally rising to the surface. "So...how are you doing?" she asked as she looked down the street.

"Shitty," Daryl admitted. "Matter of fact, I've decided to move on."

 

Carol turned her head suddenly and looked at Daryl with widened eyes. "Y...you're leaving?"

Daryl didn't look at her, but he nodded in confirmation.

"Why? What happened? Did Rick say—"

"Relax," Daryl interrupted, looking at Carol with a sly grin. "I ain't leavin' town. I'm just movin' out of this damn house."

Carol looked over her shoulder at the group's home and looked for imperfections. "I...I don't understand..."

"Do you know how many people are livin' in there?" Daryl asked, as he pointed a thumb at the house. "Thirteen people sharin' two bathrooms and a baby cryin' all hours of the night. I trust y'all with my life, but dammit I need my space. I'm movin' into one of the vacant houses tomorrow, the first one I find with a pool table is mine."

Carol studied Daryl for a minute and saw he was serious. She looked down at the walkway, and took a drag on her cigarette. "Okay," she said after blowing out the smoke.

Daryl looked up at the stars high above Alexandria's walls, took a drag on his cigarette and blew out the smoke. "Will you go with me?" he muttered.

Carol looked wide-eyed at Daryl. "What did you say?" she asked.

Daryl took a deep breath, exhaled, and looked at Carol. "Will you go with me?" he repeated more strongly.

Carol chuckled nervously and dropped her cigarette onto the step below and crushed it underneath her shoe. "You can't be serious."

"You're damn right I'm serious," he said. "Don't you think you deserve a break from this group's bullshit? Don't you want a place of your own?"

Carol shivered as she considered Daryl's offer. She so badly wanted to say yes, but Daryl didn't know the truth about Lizzie and Mika's deaths. How could she with him when she couldn't live with herself?

Daryl threw his cigarette onto the step below and ground it under the heel of his Timberland boot. He turned his body towards Carol and took her hand into his own. "We can start over. I know you want to. Stop worryin' and give it a chance," Daryl begged.

Carol looked from Daryl's eyes, to the porch steps, and back to Daryl's eyes. What he said was true; she admitted that to him weeks ago. But was it too late for her to try? And she looked at Daryl, the one man who protected her, who loved her, even though he couldn't find the words to say it. It wasn't too late for her to start over. He was still here.

"Yes, Daryl," Carol answered sincerely. "Yes."

Daryl smiled and he wrapped his arms around Carol and pulled her towards him and they started kissing. Tomorrow they'd move out and choose a house of their own. They wouldn't be leaving the group, they'd be starting over.

THE END​