Daryl and I hesitate in front of the RV, giving each other a brief look. He sighs, heads up to the door, and goes inside. After a second, I follow.

Carol sits at the dining table, sobbing into her hands. Daryl settles himself on the counter, resting his gun in his lap, and I slide into the spot across from Carol.

We stay like that for a good long while, silently reminding her that she isn't alone. Eventually, her crying lessens and she stares out the window, hands folded in front of her. Her eyes are red-rimmed and there's no joy on her face. Whatever tiny spark she had left is snuffed out. I look out towards the barn, where I can see people digging.

After a while, Lori arrives. She steps inside, pursing her lips a little as she looks at Carol.

"They're ready," she says.

Carol shakes her head.

Lori's expression is sad, empathetic. "Come on," she breathes.

"Why should I?"

"'Cause that's your little girl," Daryl says.

She looks up at Daryl and, again, shakes her head. "That's not my little girl. That's some other...thing." She gazes out the window. "My Sophia was alone in the woods. All this time, I thought..." Her lips purse and she inhales. "She didn't cry herself to sleep. She didn't go hungry. She didn't try to find her way back. Sophia died a long time ago."

No one says anything. There's nothing to say. Lori leaves and I look over at Daryl, but he's got his eyes on Carol. His jaw clenches, lips trembling for just a second before he slides off the counter. He gives her one more look before he leaves.

I wait, looking at Carol. "I can stay if you need me to."

She shakes her head. I excuse myself, leaving her to her grief. We walk to the little grove of trees beside the barn where three new graves wait, empty. One by one, we lower Sophia, Hershel's wife Annette, and Hershel's stepson Shawn into their graves. We cover them up and stand in silent vigil.

I expect there to be some words spoken, but no one steps forward to say anything. One by one, people disperse, most back to camp or the farmhouse. Daryl disappears into the woods. I stay rooted in place, staring at the graves.

After a few minutes, I also head off into the trees. I don't remember exactly where to go but maybe I'll be lucky. I search the bushes as I walk, watching and hoping until finally, I find what I'm looking for. There, hidden amongst a cluster of bare bushes, is a group of Cherokee roses. I squat by the bush and carefully pluck each bloom, being sure to leave a stem. I gather two decent-sized branches and some long strands of grass, tough and yellow. I test a knot in one of them and it holds.

I carry my find back to camp, back to the graves, and sit down next to Sophia as I get to work. It's been a long time since I've tried, but I carefully braid the Cherokee rose stems together into a halo. I set it aside, then tie my branches together with the tough grass, creating a cross.

I plant the cross in the dirt above Sophia's grave, then hang the halo over the arms. I sit back to look over my work and I hope that, up there, Sophia thinks it's as pretty as I do.

I keep sitting there long after I should've moved on, but I can't bring myself to do so. I fold my hands, pressing my mouth to my knuckles as I take a long, deep breath.

"I should've been more specific when I prayed," I say. "I prayed that we'd find you, but...I never imagined it'd be like this. I'm...I'm so sorry, Sophia."

Footsteps approach behind me and I look over my shoulder, expecting Daryl, but it's Carol. She stares at the grave, hugging herself, and I get to my feet.

"Sorry, I...um..." I start, gesturing vaguely at the graves. "I—"

"Did you make that?" Carol asks. I look at my rose-laden cross, then nod. Carol's lip twitches a bit at the side. "It's nice."

I look up at the sky. "You think she likes them?"

Carol nods. She takes a few small steps towards the grave and I move away. I pat her shoulder once before I head back to my camp.

Only, when I get to where Daryl's tent is, mine is standing alone with all my stuff left inside. I look around, biting back a curse, and make a beeline for the RV. Dale stands on top, keeping watch, and I call up to him.

"Dale, have you seen Daryl?"

Dale lets his binoculars fall around his neck. "Last I saw, he was headed into the fields."

I thank him and run off. How many times do I have to go searching for him? Maybe this is another sign, divine intervention warning me to just let it go, but I can't.

I see the tent set up near a pillar of stones that could have been a chimney once. I check inside, but he isn't there and my attention drifts to the woods. Hunting, then. I sit down by the stone tower and tilt my head back, shutting my eyes for a moment.

It takes a while, but he returns eventually. I get to my feet as Daryl approaches his camp, a rabbit and a squirrel dangling from his belt.

"You keep finding me, huh?" he asks.

I cross my arms over my chest. "You keep running away." He huffs a bit as he unhooks his kills and I sigh. "How are you holding up?"

"Fine."

"You sure?" He huffs again and takes a seat against the chimney, starting to sharpen his hunting knife. I kneel in front of him. "It's okay if you're hurting, you know? We all are."

"Yeah, right," he mutters. "I was out scouring those woods every damn day, all for a little girl who was already dead. Took a bullet and an arrow for a ghost."

"You had hope," I say. "There's nothing wrong with that. It kept us going."

"So?"

"So you've earned your place back there. This...this hiding away, going off on your own, you don't have to do that anymore. The others—"

"You know you're the only one in this group who's ever thanked me for anything?" he cuts me off. I stare at him. "Didn't think I wanted it 'til you started saying it."

"That...can't be true."

His brow furrows. He keeps sharpening his knife, checking the blade for a second. "Think T thanked me for the meds, while you were still out, but other than that, I've got jack."

"Didn't Carol thank you after finding Sophia's doll?"

His expression darkens and he sharpens the knife a little harder. "She kissed my damn gunshot wound."

I blink a few times. "I thanked you with a kiss."

"You still said it after." He looks up at me. "Don't matter. I'm done being an errand boy for them. That's it."

I slump a bit as he keeps up his work, then get to my feet. I'm about to turn away, then hesitate. "You moved my stuff back out," I say. "Should I take that as a hint?"

He doesn't look up at me. "Wanted to give you a choice," he mutters.

"So, if I come back here, you won't mind?" He nods once. I smile a bit. "Alright then. Thank you."

He grunts in response.

----------

I'm gathering my things and taking down my tent when Lori jogs up to me. She frowns.

"Are you going somewhere?" she asks.

"Not far," I say, zipping up my bag. "Why?"

She purses her lips. "Beth collapsed. Hershel's gone. Rick and Glenn went into town to look for him but they haven't come back," she says. "Could you take a look at her, just to ease our minds a little?"

"I can try..."

I follow Lori back to the house. Maggie's in the bedroom where I spent so much of my time only a few days ago and Beth is on the bed, staring up at the ceiling blankly, not registering a thing.

I feel wildly unprepared, but I put on a brave face. Patricia has Hershel's kit in the room, so I borrow his stethoscope and check her heart rate. It's way too fast. I test her temperature with the back of my hand and she's absolutely burning.

"She just collapsed?" I ask.

"While she was doing dishes," Maggie says.

I hand the stethoscope back to Patricia. "Honestly, I haven't seen anything like this before. It looks like shock, but..." I shake my head. "Best I can suggest, put a cold compress on her forehead to try and control the fever, and maybe put in an I.V. so she doesn't get dehydrated. I'm sorry, but that's all I can think of."

"Thanks for trying," Patricia says. "I'll get the I.V. set up."

I excuse myself from the room as Maggie pets her sister's hair. Some medic I am, huh? I don't know what Hershel would do differently but I know he'd probably have a better solution than a cold compress and an I.V.

I return to my tent and belongings, pack it all up, and head back to Daryl. He's gone again when I return, although a squirrel and a rabbit pelt are hanging off the clothesline, drying in the sun. I set up my tent, tuck my stuff inside, and stand back.

When did life get so...monotonous? I know the last thing I need after getting injured is more excitement, but there's this lingering feeling that keeps getting stronger, more insistent, telling me that if I don't do something in this group, they'll drop me.

I was the medic but, after meeting Hershel, I feel so much less confident in anything I can do. I couldn't even stitch T-Dog's arm. I'm still horrible at washing laundry by hand. Anything with a gun is out of the question; even if I wanted to shoot, I've got no aim. I can't even help Daryl or Carol or anyone on an emotional level because I'm not a therapist. Hell, I need therapy.

I wasn't an upstanding member of society before the world ended, but at least I was there to scan clothes and handle transactions and tidy racks. I took up space and I did stuff and now...now, I'm nothing.

I leave the tent. There's no point sitting around waiting for Daryl because he won't want to talk anyway. I trudge back to camp and go back into the farmhouse, because then at least I can try to be useful.

----------

"Everything okay?"

I look up at Carol. She's showing me a few tips for stitching quilts and I figure it's good practice for more than just mending. We sit together on the porch, trying to enjoy the fresh air. I must look horrible if a grieving mother is asking me if I'm okay.

"Do you mean in general? Because..."

She shrugs. "You're usually off somewhere with Daryl," she says. "Keeping an eye on him."

"Psh," I mumble, almost a laugh. "I'm not his babysitter. Just...a friend."

Yeah, friends who kissed each other, I think, mocking myself. Where is he now, Hope? What happened to talking things over? I shouldn't have let him kiss me, shouldn't have kissed him back. One step forward, three steps back.

That's how everything feels right now. We head to Fort Benning, the highway is jammed up. We get enough gas to backtrack, a herd comes through and we lose Sophia. We go searching for Sophia and I get shot. We find the farm, but the barn's full of walkers and Hershel doesn't want us to stay. The barn gets cleared—I'm still uncomfortable with how that was handled—and all this time, Sophia was right there. And Daryl...god, what do I do about Daryl?

Good thing, bad thing, good thing, worse thing. Wading through quicksand.

"He's hurting too," Carol murmurs, "so he's pulling away from us. I don't like it." She tugs her needle, pulling the stitch tight before examining it a little closer. Her lips purse. "Have you talked to him?"

"I tried," I say, shrugging helplessly. "He's...angry. I wish he'd talk to me but it's like...he's a brick wall. Or a mule."

"Let's just try to be there for him. Hopefully, in time, he'll open up."

I hope so, but I've been doing a lot of hoping lately and it's starting to get exhausting. You know it's bad when a girl with my name is feeling pessimistic. I know it's just a name but it feels like an attitude I must uphold.

"Do you need anything?" I ask, getting to my feet. "A drink?"

Carol bows her head a bit. "I wouldn't mind some water..."

Coming right up.

----------

The day drags on. I look outside every now and then. I briefly see Daryl by his motorcycle, but he doesn't look at the farmhouse once.

As darkness falls, I help make dinner and set the table. Rick and Glenn aren't back from town yet, which means no Hershel, and Beth is still unresponsive. Shane and Andrea enter the dining room as people start to sit down.

"They should've been back by now," Andrea says as she slides into one of the open chairs.

"Yeah. They probably just got holed up somewhere," Shane suggests, taking the lone chair at the head of the table. "We'll head out first thing in the morning."

He thanks Patricia as she sets a bowl of steamed green beans beside him. Carol moves past me with a basket of bread while I go back to the kitchen to grab another dish. Dale is still setting out napkins and glasses as Shane starts filling his plate. Carl sits and fiddles with a fork, staring down at his plate.

"Carl, I want you to keep your head up, okay?" Shane says. "Your old man, he's the toughest son of a—"

"No cussing in the house," Patricia warns.

"Sorry," Shane says.

I set my dish down and take a seat.

"Lori, dinner!" Carol calls, starting towards the living room.

"She's not in there," Maggie says.

Carol turns back, confused, and Dale frowns a bit. "Where is she?" he asks.

Maggie looks around. We all share looks. The last time I saw Lori, she was going outside. I didn't think anything of it.

"Carl, when's the last time you saw your mom?" Shane asks.

"This afternoon," Carl says.

"She was worried about Rick, asked me to look in on Carl," Andrea adds.

"She went after them?" Dale asks.

"She didn't say that."

"Nobody panic," Shane says as he gets up. "Gotta be around here somewhere."

The Greenes stay seated but the rest of us are up and looking without another word. We head outside and already, my stomach feels uneasy. It's pitch black out and if it weren't for the moon, we wouldn't be able to see our hands in front of our faces.

Carol's right beside me and I turn to her. "I'll ask Daryl," I say. "Maybe...maybe he saw her."

She nods and I head off towards the campsite. There's the flickering light of a fire in the distance and, as I get closer, I can see Daryl sitting by it. I jog a bit as I get to him.

"Lori's gone," I say. "Have you seen her?"

He shrugs, stoking the fire with a large branch, not looking at me. "Dumb bitch must've gone off looking for Rick."

I want to retort against the name-calling, but I'm too tired and there's no time. "Did you talk to her?"

"She asked me to go," he says. "Told her what I told you. I ain't an errand boy anymore."

"Well, thanks anyway," I say. I start to go back, but stop and look back at his lonely figure, hunched over his lonely fire, and walk back. "Carol's worried about you."

"Sounds like her problem."

"I am too," I say and his jaw clenches. I fumble with my words, what I'm trying to say, and he doesn't even look at me. "Are we going to pretend that nothing happened today?"

He gets up, digging the branch into the ashes, and walks past me towards his tent. "Better hurry and find Lori before she ends up stuck in a barn somewhere," he mutters.

He disappears inside, zipping the door shut behind him, and there are so many things I want to say or do, but I leave. I return to the main camp just as the others are gathering up. Carol sees me coming and hurries to greet me.

"Please say you have good news," she pleads.

"I have news," I say. "Not sure about the good."

Carol falls to my side as I reach the rest of the group, all of them reporting their findings.

"She asked Daryl to go into town," I say and Shane turns to me, his flashlight beam briefly shining in my face. I squint a little. "She must've gone herself."

Carl whimpers a little, his hand covering his mouth. Andrea reaches for him but he storms off back towards the farmhouse.

"Did you know about this?" Shane utters as he glares at Dale.

Dale blinks a few times. "No."

"Look, just—did she take a gun?"

"I don't know." Shane's expression gets angrier and he pivots heading for his car. Dale calls after him, "I wouldn't let her go out there alone!"

Shane gets in, slams the door, and the tires squeal as he takes off down the road.

----------

There's nothing left for us to do but wait. We eat supper, only slightly cooled, and Patricia puts aside a plate for Lori and Shane.

I set myself up on the porch, knife in hand, and watch the road. People come in and out of the house, watching for a minute or two before going back inside.

I don't know how much time passes before a pair of headlights appears.

"Guys!" I call.

We hurry to the road as Shane's car pulls to a stop and both he and Lori get out.

"Oh my God, are you alright?" Andrea, the first one to reach Lori, asks. "What happened?"

"She was attacked—" Shane starts.

"I was in an accident," Lori insists. "I'm fine. I'm fine, I really am. Where's Rick?" She looks up at each of us and we just stare back. Shane moves away from her and her mouth falls open. "They're not back?" Still no answers, and Lori fixes her stare on Shane. Her voice is stern. "Where are they?"

"Look, I had to get you back here," Shane says.

Lori moves towards him. "You asshole," she growls.

"Lori—"

"He's my husband!" She shoves against his chest and he tries to grab her wrists.

"Lori, I will go after him," Shane insists even as she keeps hitting him, avoiding his grasp. "I will find him! Hey!" He pushes her back and she heaves, eyes wild with rage. "Now look, first things first, I gotta...I gotta look after you. I gotta make sure the baby's alright, okay?"

Lori's mouth falls open again. I do a double-take, looking between her and Shane. He didn't say baby, did he?

"You're having a baby?" Carl asks, moving up to his mom. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Uh...I-I..." Lori stammers.

Shane sighs and turns, bracing his hands against the hood of his car, and I can't help the burst of rage in my chest that burns as I look at him. Lori looks at all of us, still stammering, and Dale steps forward as he rests a comforting hand on her arm.

"Come on," he murmurs. "Let's make sure you're alright."

Andrea echoes his sentiments. The two of them lead Lori to the house. Patricia, Maggie, and Carl follow, leaving me and T-Dog with Shane.

I cross my arms over my chest. "She's really pregnant?" I ask. He purses his lips and I bristle a little. "That was her news to tell us when she was ready."

"I did what I had to," Shane retorts, pushing off the car and turning to me.

"You lied to her," I say. "I understand why but you still crossed the line, just like at the barn."

He smiles a bit, just for a second, and my stomach curls. "That was the same thing. Did what I had to," he says. He moves closer to me, amusement falling from his face. "Stay out of it."

He brushes past me and I turn, heart pounding. "We're a group!" I shout after him. "You can't keep making decisions for us!"

"Hope," T-Dog says. "Maybe it's best to drop this."

I look at Shane's retreating form, then T-Dog. "But..."

"Look, I agree with you, mostly," he says, "but it's late. We're all tired. Maybe just let it go for now."

I don't like it, but he's got a point, so I sigh and nod in defeat. He pats my shoulder, mumbling an apology, and heads back to the house. I start to follow when I hear rustling and turn back.

Carol heads off into the darkness at a brisk pace. I linger, looking between the house and the fields. She must be going to talk to Daryl. I should leave her to it. I should just let them have their talk or whatever.

I repeat these sentiments to myself even as I follow after her.

----------

The fire is still burning, low and barely visible above the pit Daryl dug for it, and I can see two person-shaped shadows just barely illuminated by its light as I get closer and closer to camp.

"If you spent half your time minding your daughter's business instead of sticking your nose in everybody else's, she'd still be alive!"

I'm torn between picking up the pace and slowing down, because Daryl's words are harsh and I could try to stop it, but getting in the middle of it is another issue.

"Go ahead and what?" Daryl snaps. "Just go! I don't want you here!" Either Carol's staying quiet or her voice is too soft to hear, but Daryl's is loud and clear. "You're a real piece of work, lady. What, are you gonna make this about my daddy or some crap like that? Pfft. Man, you know jack. You're afraid. You're afraid 'cause you're all alone. You got no husband, no daughter. You don't know what to do with yourself. You ain't my problem! Sophia wasn't mine!" A sharp breath. "All you had to do was keep an eye on her!"

Silence—heavy, heartbreaking silence, and I realize that I've stopped walking. After a few seconds, one of the silhouettes turns and Carol comes walking back the way she came, head down, steps fast.

"Carol," I breathe as she comes towards me, but she blows past me like I'm a ghost.

I watch her, then look back at the fire. I can just see Daryl by the pit and he grunts as he kicks at it. A few logs collapse onto one another and sparks fly up into the sky. He sits down next to it and drops his head into his hands.

I should go. I shouldn't have come.

Yet, before I know it, I'm there in front of the fire, arms crossed loosely over my chest as I look down at him. My mind is rational but my heart seems to move me before my brain can catch up.

"Go away," he mumbles.

I purse my lips. He's said a lot of things to me and by now, I should know better. He wants me to go, to stay, he doesn't want to lose me but every action tells me that he couldn't care less.

He looks up at me and his expression is still angry. "I know you ain't deaf! Leave."

My hands are shaking but I still don't move away from him. Instead, I come closer. His lip twitches a bit, like a dog when they're seconds away from biting you, and I stop at his side. I don't think there's anything I could say to make this better.

"You're making a mistake," he mutters as he looks into the fire. He makes a one-handed shooing gesture at me. "Just go."

I sit down next to him, still watching, face carefully composed.

"Stop," he says.

"Stop what?" I whisper.

"This!" he snaps, turning to me. "You...you keep coming back! I don't get why you care so damn much!"

Maybe because I'm stupid, or I can't just let things go, or I don't know when to walk away, or maybe I'm already falling for him and I know I can't stop it. My heart clenches at the thought.

"You asked me to stay," I murmur.

He mutters another curse, his expression twisting. "Didn't think you'd actually want to," he says and I swear, his voice starts to break at the edges.

I scoot a bit closer, reaching my arms out to him, and he doesn't pull away. Instead, the moment my arms are around him, he turns and lets his face fall into the crook of my neck. He's shaking, his breaths fast against my skin, and I hold him. I sit and I hold him as the fire dies beside us.