I move my cot and other belongings back into the tent I should've been sleeping in and get comfortable. I try to read my book and think of anything other than Daryl, but he's stuck in my head. I keep replaying the conversation in the stable, wondering how I could have handled it better, been more sensitive to his feelings.

I can't focus on my book so I toss it aside and sit up, running my hands over my face. The peacemaker in me wants to find him and try to talk this out, because we just confessed that we were feeling something more than friendship and I need to know if he meant it, but I force myself to push that away. This is just history repeating itself.

Even after all these years, after multiple experiences where I got hurt because I got in too deep too quickly, I'm still the same stupid girl I've always been, with the same horrible taste in men who can't possibly be good for me. Daryl felt different, like he actually had the softer side I always sought out in my other boyfriends, but he's throwing up red flags that even I, in my rose-coloured glasses, can see.

I step out of my tent in search of fresh air. I look out towards the woods and instead of losing myself in the beauty of nature, I see Daryl and Carol disappearing into the trees. The feeling that coils in my gut is far from pleasant and I turn away, wanting to claw my heart from my chest so it will stop screaming at me. I want to scold it, like a mother to a petulant toddler, remind it that he's not my problem and he can do as he pleases.

I do a lap around the camp. Glenn's on watch on top of the RV. Andrea keeps a lookout by the barn. I don't see Rick, Shane, T-Dog, or Dale anywhere. I can see silhouettes inside Lori's tent but I don't check whether it's actually Lori in there.

Walking around camp, by myself, my own stupidity hits me again with how reliant I've become on Daryl for company. It's just like high school, like college—I would try to make friends with people, but inevitably get a crush on a guy in the group and then he'd have all my attention. The amount of surnames I scribbled next to my name inside a ring of hearts is embarrassing to think about, but I was a hopeless romantic. Still am.

My mom used to tease me about how boy-crazy I was in my childhood, and I bet she kept hoping I'd grow out of it. She used to joke that, even when I was a baby, she could always count on me to find the most handsome guy in the room because I'd gaze at him like he hung the moon. If my mom were here, she'd have her arm around my shoulders, trying not to laugh as she rubbed my arm. She'd shake her head and say, "You've got a soft heart, sweetie. You get that from me."

I'm a lover, not a fighter, but this isn't a world for lovers anymore. Shane's words at gun practice replay in my head, how I've got no chance of survival if I don't learn to shoot. I bet he thinks I've got no chance even if I did. I'm too soft, too vulnerable, too...weak.

I get back to my tent and I lay back down, reaching for my book again in a vain attempt to distract myself further.

I hear footsteps, then a zipper opening, all from the tent beside me. I tuck my book closer to my face and try to ignore it, because maybe it's just Carol or someone else looking for Daryl. More footsteps, the rustling of grass beneath leather.

My tent zips open. "Hope?"

I keep my lips sealed. This book is so interesting, I tell myself. Sooo interesting.

"Hope, put the book down for a sec."

"I'm not talking to you," I mutter.

"Come on."

I let the book fall in my lap before I get up. He's watching me, his brow slightly furrowed, but I don't look at him for too long. He has no right to be angry with me, not when I was just trying to help. I shove the book against his chest and push past him.

"You wanted me to leave you alone," I say. "Follow your own advice, Daryl."

"Fuck, you know I didn't mean that!" he retorts.

I don't stop walking. I don't go to the main part of camp, instead heading towards the fields, and I hear his footsteps behind me.

"Hope, just stop for a second! Let me talk!" he shouts after me. I keep moving and his footsteps get faster. "Look, I know I was an asshole. I know you were trying to help, alright? You're always trying to help."

More steps. Don't fall for it, I tell myself. Humans are endurance hunters, but that goes both ways. I'll walk until we both drop or he gives up.

"Damn it, woman, just listen to me!"

His hand closes around my wrist and yanks me back towards him. I plant my feet, trying to fight it, but he holds me in place.

"Why should I?" I demand. I tug again, but I can't even budge him. "God, Daryl, you don't get to do this to me!"

"I never should've said that to you," he says. "It was a mistake."

My lip trembles and I clench my jaw as hard as I can. Another fruitless tug. "Yeah, you got that right," I mumble. "Let go of me."

"At least let me say I'm sorry!"

"Fine. Say it, then I'll leave you alone. I won't bother you anymore."

"That ain't what I want and you know it!"

His grip gets a bit tighter, more insistent, and I wish I could turn off my tear ducts. It's hard enough trying to fight my way out of his grip without having to push back my own emotions.

"Are you sure about that?!" I finally snap. His fingers loosen just a bit as his eyes widen and I rip my hand away from him, clutching it to my chest. I stare at him, eyes watering, breaths shaking. "I thought you were different, Daryl, but you're right. I'm stupid. I'm stupid for getting so caught up in you so quickly." I suck in a breath, tears slipping. He's still staring at me, frozen, and I press my arm closer to my chest. "We should just try to be friends because I can't take this. I can't take you pulling me in just to push me away. I can't—"

He's there, suddenly, and before another word can escape, he's cupped my face in his hands and pressed his lips to mine. I almost go limp, my brain sparking in shock, my stomach coiling and fluttering, and I shouldn't kiss him back. I shouldn't, but it's gentle yet strong and passionate in its intensity, pulling me in all over again. Hook, line, sinker.

He breaks away, still holding my face, staring deeply into my eyes as his breaths come in short puffs. I blink, my tears drying on my skin in tight little tracks.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

My brain feels like it's rebooting. "You...didn't you hear what I said?" I ask, weakly.

"I did, I swear, I just..." He exhales, his eyes closing. His hands slip from my face, down to my shoulders, arms, resting on my hips. "I ain't...I ain't felt this way about anyone in a long time. I'm still trying to figure out what the hell to do about it."

"And kissing me was your best idea?"

"One of 'em," he admits. His hands tighten a bit against me. "Fuck, I just know I don't wanna lose you."

"Daryl, I..." I swallow, trying to push my rational thought in front of the insane urge I have to kiss him again. "I've...I've made mistakes with men in the past, men...who weren't ready for what I wanted, and I don't want that to happen here. I don't want to lose you either."

"I get it. I do."

He's so close to me, his shirt still unbuttoned near the top, and I want to run my hand down his chest. I close my eyes and take another deep breath.

"We should talk," I say. "Like...seriously, about what we want, what we expect. Set boundaries. There's a few things I have to be clear about."

"Sure, whatever you need. I'll listen."

"I will too."

We stare at each other for a second and his gaze darts back to my lips. I wet them with the tip of my tongue, moving a little closer, and he steals a second kiss. It's shorter than the first, softer and sweeter, but I crave more. Part of me still can't believe it's real.

If it isn't, and this whole thing is a rollercoaster nightmare dream, I'd like to stay asleep a little while longer.

----------

My cot goes back in its rightful place and Daryl stares out towards the farmhouse while I remake the beds. I step out, frowning.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Camp's quiet," he says. "Haven't seen people since the barn. Think they're out looking?"

"I hope so," I say. He gives me a brief look and I add, hasty, "I know what I said earlier, but that doesn't mean I don't want us to find her."

"Was gonna ask about that," he admits. "Didn't want to bring it up while we were screaming at each other."

"I saw you with Carol, earlier. Everything okay there?"

He nods. "Needed to apologize to her. Told her I wasn't gonna give up," he says. "Sophia's out there and I'll find her."

"Well, if anyone's going to find her, it's you," I say, elbowing him lightly in the arm.

"Thanks." We stand, still looking out at camp, and Daryl frowns a bit harder. "The hell...is that Andrea?"

I follow his gaze and, sure enough, Andrea walks towards the farmhouse with T-Dog, blonde ponytail swinging. Rick said they were going looking for Sophia hours ago but I don't see Rick.

Daryl starts after them and I follow. Closer to the farmhouse, I see Patricia, Carl, and Beth on the porch playing checkers on a small garden table. Maggie and Glenn sit together on the front steps, her laughing a bit as she takes Dale's boat hat off his head.

"Do you know what's going on?" T-Dog asks as Glenn gets to his feet.

"Where is everyone?" Andrea adds.

"You haven't seen Rick?" Glenn asks.

"He went off with Hershel," she says. "We were supposed to leave a couple hours ago."

"Yeah, you were," Daryl calls, making them turn to us. "What the hell?"

"Rick said he was going out, right?" I ask.

Daryl looks around at everyone, nose wrinkling a bit. "Damn it. Isn't anybody taking this seriously?" he demands. He turns, flinging his hand out towards the forest. "We got us a damn trail!"

I look at where he's pointed but, instead of just trees, there's Shane, coming towards us with a duffel bag on his shoulder and a rifle in hand.

"Oh, here we go," Daryl says, walking towards him. "What's all this?"

"You with me, man?" Shane asks, holding a rifle out to him. Daryl's eyes narrow, but he takes it. "Time to grow up!" Shane shouts as Daryl cocks it. He looks at Andrea as he passes her. "You already got yours?"

"Yeah," Andrea says. "Where's Dale?"

"He's on his way," Shane says, voice deadpan as he hands a gun to T-Dog.

"Thought we couldn't carry," T-Dog says.

"We can and we have to."

I'm confused and more than a little on edge. "What's going on?"

"Never you mind," Shane snaps. He looks around at everyone. "Look, it was one thing sitting around here picking daisies when we thought this place was supposed to be safe, but now we know it ain't." He pulls out another gun and walks to Glenn. "What about you, man? You gonna protect yours?"

Glenn shoots a brief look at Maggie, then nods and takes the gun. I look at Daryl, eyes wide, and he's got his lips pursed, gun on his shoulder.

"That's it," Shane says. "Can you shoot?" he asks Maggie.

"Can you stop?" Maggie retorts. "You do this, you hand out these guns, my dad will make you leave tonight!"

"We have to stay, Shane," Carl says, moving down the steps.

"What is this?" Lori asks as she joins the group, Carol behind her. "What's going on?"

"We ain't going anywhere, okay?" Shane says. "Now look, Hershel, he's just gotta understand. Okay? He—well, he's gonna have to." He pulls a small revolver from the front of his pants and kneels in front of Carl. "Now, we need to find Sophia. Am I right? Huh? Now I want you to take this. You take it, Carl, and you keep your mother safe. You do whatever it takes. You know how. Go on, take the gun and do it—"

Lori's there in an instant, pushing Carl behind her, teeth bared a little as she glares at Shane. "Rick said no guns. This is not your call!" she growls. "This is not your decision to make!"

"Oh, shit," T-Dog says and we all turn to him.

Out from the trees, right near the barbed wire fence around the barn, Jimmy, Rick, and Hershel emerge, and they have two walkers with them.

"What is that?" Shane mutters, starting to run. "What is that?!"

"Shane!" Lori calls, but he's already gone.

The rest of us follow after him. Shane kicks open the wrought-iron gate, glaring fiercely at Rick.

"What the hell are you doing?!" he bellows.

Rick keeps fighting the walker on the end of his pole, a man with curly brown hair and a blue worksuit. Hershel has one too, a woman in a dirty blouse and skirt.

"Shane, just back off!" Rick shouts.

"Why do your people have guns?" Hershel demands.

"Are you kidding me?" Shane shouts. He points at the walkers, at Hershel, and locks his attention on the rest of us. "You see? You see what they're holding on to?"

"I see who I'm holding on to!" Hershel says.

"No, man, you don't."

"Shane, just let us do this and then we can talk," Rick says.

"What d'you wanna talk about, Rick? These things ain't sick! They're not people!"

Shane keeps circling the three men and the walkers snarl and lunge, trying desperately to grab anyone near to them. Jimmy keeps dodging out of the way while Rick and Hershel fight to keep their grip.

"They're dead!" Shane continues. "Ain't gotta feel nothing for them, 'cause all they do, they kill! These things right here, they're the things that killed Amy! They killed Otis! They're gonna kill all of us!"

"Shane, shut up!" Rick shouts.

We're getting closer to the barn. Lori keeps Carl close to her. Daryl, Glenn, and T-Dog have their guns raised, ready to fire if anything goes wrong.

"Hey, Hershel man, let me ask you something," Shane says as he walks to the barn doors, already pulling his handgun from the back of his waistband. "Could a living breathing person, could they walk away from this?"

He aims and fires three quick rounds into the female walker's torso and I jump backwards, hand flying to my side as my breathing spikes.

"No!" Rick shouts. "Stop it!"

"That's three rounds in the chest," Shane says. "Could someone who's alive, could they just take that?! Why is it still coming?" He fires again. The walker lurches but doesn't go down. "That's its heart, its lungs. Why is it still coming?!"

Another shot. I take another step back.

"Shane, enough!"

"Yeah, you're right, man," Shane says, walking closer. "That is enough."

He shoots the female walker between the eyes and Hershel's expression twists with genuine pain as the walker collapses, taking the pole with her. Hershel sinks to his knees, staring at her in shock.

"Enough risking our lives for a little girl who's gone!" Shane roars. "Enough living next to a barn full of things that are trying to kill us! Enough! Rick, it ain't like it was before!" He glares at Rick, but he doesn't reply, still holding the male walker at bay. "Now if y'all want to live, if you want to survive, you gotta fight for it! I'm talking about fighting right here, right now!"

Shane turns and runs to the barn and I still can't get myself to move.

"Take the snare pole!" Rick shouts at Hershel. "Hershel, take the snare pole! Hershel!" Hershel just stares ahead, stunned silent. "Hershel, listen to me, man, please! Take it now! HERSHEL!"

Shane snags a rusty pick-axe from beside the barn and starts hacking at the padlocks, the chains, everything keeping that barn shut tight.

"Shane, don't do this, brother!" Rick begs.

"Don't do it!" Glenn screams.

"Rick!" Lori shouts.

"PLEASE!"

More screams. Shane gets the latch off, leaving the doors to swing open just enough to let a few walkers through at a time. Shane slams his hand against the wood.

"Come on and get us!" he screams. "Come on!"

He backs up, gun raised, ignoring Rick's continued pleas, and the first walker emerges. Andrea, Daryl, and T-Dog rush forward, guns at the ready, and they open fire along with Shane as the walkers keep coming. Maggie sobs and clings to Hershel as he stares in mute horror at the scene before him. Glenn joins the firing line. Jimmy hugs Beth as she sobs and Patricia wails.

Shane looks back at Rick and shoots the walker on the end of his pole. Rick drops it, but he doesn't reach for the pistol on his hip. He shouts at Lori and Carl to stay back, looking between them and the barn as if he can't decide where to go or what to do.

I just step back again. Carol's far behind me, flinching whenever a shot goes off, and Lori's holding Carl as he cries. I know the walkers aren't alive. I know that they're dangerous, but I still want to cry because Hershel thinks he's seeing his family, friends, and neighbours being massacred before his eyes.

I'm torn and I'm horrified and I'm just plain sad.

A final gunshot rings out and the last walker collapses into the pile of other bodies littering the ground. My ears are filled with echoes and the sound of my own heart. No one says a word. The Greenes cry and hold each other.

Then, another growl, soft and raspy, trickles out from the barn. Daryl raises his gun.

A small walker with dirty blonde hair wearing khaki capris and a blue shirt with a rainbow on it appears. She hisses at the light, head twisting a bit before she looks up at us, and my heart breaks all over again. There's a bloody bite mark on her neck.

"Sophia?" Carol calls out, already sobbing. "Sophia!"

She rushes past me and I try to grab her arm, but miss, and Daryl's there to stop her before she gets too close. Carol sinks to the ground, still reaching out to her daughter, sobbing her name. I fall at Carol's side, hand on her shoulder.

"Sophia..." she whimpers.

"No," I hear Carl sob. "No...no, no, no..."

Sophia stumbles towards us, her lifeless grey eyes darting around, deciding who to go to. Daryl's arm surrounds me, pulling me closer to him and Carol, and I hug them both as tightly as I can as I cry softly.

"Don't watch," Lori begs Carl, holding her boy close.

Rick steps forward, moving past everyone, and he raises his gun as Sophia gets closer and closer. She's just about to reach him when he pulls the trigger and she collapses into a lifeless heap.

Carol lets out a gut-wrenching wail, sinking forward as she sobs into the blood-stained dirt, crying so hard that she's gasping for breath.

"Don't look," Daryl says as he pulls her back to her feet. "Don't look."

She shoves him away from her and sobs harder, running back to camp. We share a brief look and, wordlessly, we take off after her.