The next morning, we add another grave to the line and hold a funeral for Dale. We burn the walker that killed him. We stand, solemn, and as the sun rises over the trees, Rick speaks about the man we've lost, about how he saw us for who we were. He thought the group was broken and the best way to honour Dale is to unbreak it.

"Set aside our differences and pull together, stop feeling sorry for ourselves and take control of our lives, our safety, our future," Rick says. "We're not broken. We're gonna prove him wrong. From now on, we're gonna do it his way. That is how we honour Dale."

As people wander away, going back to the things that they need to do, Daryl and I linger. I look up at him and bump my shoulder against his.

"He was right, you know," I say. Daryl raises an eyebrow at me and I add, "About you. I keep thinking about what he said at camp."

He scoffs a little. "Bet he was really thinking 'bout how decent I was when I put a bullet between his eyes."

I rest my head on his shoulder, twining our hands together. "You stepped up and did something that none of us wanted to. I think it takes a decent man to do that."

He stares down at the grave and his lips purse. "I could'a been faster—"

"Don't start telling yourself that," I murmur, squeezing his hand. "It's no one's fault. This...this is how the world is." No matter how much it sucks.

He steps away from me, only enough to give him room to lean down and kiss the side of my forehead. "Thanks," he mutters. "For being here."

"Of course."

----------

Shane, Andrea, Daryl, and T-Dog leave to check the fences around the farm and Rick orders the rest of us to start packing up camp. With winter getting closer and the nights getting colder, Hershel has agreed to move us into the house.

I feel more than a bit sad as I pack up, but it's comforting to know that this little part of the farm will still be here for Daryl and me when spring comes again. I had a few fantasies about keeping warm with Daryl through the winter, but since Hershel has agreed to let us stay and move into the farmhouse, I'll just have to cook up new ones.

I make a few trips, carrying our things to the main camp and putting them with the other supplies. The last thing I take is Daryl's Chopper. As I approach the farmhouse, lugging the bike beside me, I notice that the blue truck Daryl and the others left in has returned, and I pick up the pace.

Daryl jogs up to me and takes the bike off my hands. Rick, Hershel, Maggie, Shane and the others are gathered near the truck.

"Gonna be tight, fifteen people in one house," Rick says.

"Don't worry about that," Hershel insists. "With the swamp hardening, the creek drying up..."

"With fifty head of cattle on the property, we might as well be ringing a damn dinner bell," Maggie says.

"She's right." Hershel purses his lips. "We should've moved you in a while ago."

Rick nods in silent agreement. As the rest of us get to work gathering supplies and loading them into the truck bed, Rick lays out the plan.

"Alright, let's move the vehicles near each of the doors, facing out towards the road," he says. "We'll build a lookout in the windmill, another in the barn loft. That should give us sightlines on both sides of the property. T-Dog, you take the perimeter around the house. Keep track of everyone coming and going."

"What about standing guard?" T-Dog asks, setting a cooler down.

"I need you and Daryl on double duty."

"Gotcha."

"I'll stock the basement with food and water, enough that we can all survive there a few days if need be," Hershel adds as he walks by with a milk crate and one of our washing tubs.

"What about patrols?" Andrea asks.

"Let's get this area locked down first," Rick says. "After that, Shane'll assign shifts while me and Daryl take Randall offsite and cut him loose."

I grab my and Daryl's backpacks and move to Daryl's motorcycle. He paces a bit, hand on his crossbow strap, watching everything with narrowed eyes.

"Randall won't be our problem anymore soon," I say. "You must be relieved."

"Good riddance," he says. He climbs onto his bike, giving me a look. "Wanna ride to the house?"

It's barely a ride, but any reason to cling to Daryl is a win for me, and I hop on. He revs the engine and the bike rolls off towards the farmhouse. He parks it near the front door and I slide off, feigning shock as I pat my chest.

"Whoo, next time you've gotta slow down," I say.

"Shut up," he retorts, smirking.

I rest my hand on my hip. "You heading out with Rick soon?"

"Yeah. Just gonna patch up the shed first." He gestures off to where Randall's being kept. "Shane said Carl got in through a hole in the roof. Don't want other things getting in there."

"Then I'll see you when you get back?"

He nods. I smile at him and return to unloading supplies. Inside the house, people are already staking claims on sleeping arrangements. I'm guessing the bedrooms can or will be spoken for, and I'm already thinking the pregnant lady and her child should get first dibs.

"The men are in there," Lori says, jerking her chin towards the dining room as Glenn walks past her.

Single men there, single women here, families anywhere. I stand in the living room and purse my lips, unable to decide where to go. After a second, I decide to cross that bridge later, pop the bags down by the door, and go back outside.

T-Dog hauls another rubber storage container from the truck and, as I pass him, he exhales and shakes his head.

"Gonna be real cozy, huh?" he asks.

"Very," I agree.

I peer into the truck, glad to see we've already moved the majority of the stuff we needed to. I reach for a toolbox when I hear someone behind me.

"Hope?"

Carl stands behind me, shuffling his feet, head down. I smile at him.

"Hey, bud, what's up?" I ask, still reaching for the toolbox.

"I need you to give something to Daryl and you can't tell him it was me," he says.

My fingers freeze. I give my full attention to Carl, briefly glancing back at the house to make sure nobody's coming out. He's still kicking at the dirt, hands in his hoodie pockets.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

His gaze darts up to me, then he reaches behind him and pulls a shiny pistol from his waistband. My eyes widen as he hands it to me, lips pursed.

"I took it from Daryl's motorcycle," he says. "He'd kill me if he found out. Can you give it back?"

"Carl..."

"I know I shouldn't have taken it, but please? He won't be mad at you."

I'd argue it's even more suspicious if I'm the one to return it, but Carl keeps staring at me, pleading at me with those big blue eyes of his, and I sigh. "Okay, I will," I say. "But you've gotta promise me you won't do this again, alright?"

"I won't. I don't want to touch a gun ever again."

I smile sadly. "Me too, Carl. Me too."

----------

There's plenty more work to be done and we work together to do it. We park the vehicles by the house, board up windows, do inventory on supplies, make lists of what we may need, and time ticks by.

I head outside as Daryl packs up the truck. T-Dog talks to him as they put a few last-minute supplies inside.

"Daryl?" I ask.

He glances up at me. T-Dog closes the tailgate, nods to me, and heads off to get Randall. I move to Daryl's side.

"Sending me off, angel face?" he asks.

I'm still not used to the nickname, but it makes my heart leap when he says it. I purse my lips and slip the gun from where I hid it in my hoodie pocket, holding it out to him.

"The hell? I've been looking for that," he says, taking it from me and checking the ammo.

"Sorry," I say.

He gives me another look. "Who took it?"

I blink a few times. "Me? Obviously?"

"Bullshit. You can't stand these things. Would've noticed if you were practicing," he mutters. He tucks the gun away. "Means someone else stole it and they were too scared to give it back."

"You're a little too perceptive sometimes, y'know?" I ask.

"So who was it?"

"I swore to secrecy." His eyes narrow at me and I lift my hands. "He doesn't want to die, okay?"

He scoffs a bit. "Bet it was the kid." He glances at me as I purse my lips tightly, and his eyes seem to glint. "Gotcha."

I gasp a little. "I didn't say anything!"

"Your face is a fuckin' book," he says. "Gotta work on the poker face."

I pout a little, cheeks flushing as I cross my arms over my chest. "Don't be mad at Carl, okay? He seemed ashamed. Didn't tell me why he took it, but...the important thing is he gave it back." Daryl doesn't seem convinced. I lean on the side of the truck, tilting my head at him. "He's, what, twelve? Give him a break."

"I'll let him live. For now."

"Daryl! How could—" He looks sideways at me and I deflate a little. "You're kidding, right? This is a joke?"

He leans forward and gives me a quick kiss. "So uptight sometimes, you know that?"

I bat his chest lightly. "Go away," I mutter. "Then come back safe and sound and all that."

"Yeah, I will."

I step forward, wrapping him in a hug, and he returns it. The words come before I can stop them. "I love you," I whisper against his chest.

He pulls away from me and his eyes are wide, stunned. My heart pounds. He just...stares at me. Daryl's lips part but just as he's about to speak, Rick approaches. He nods to me as he moves around the back of the truck and I can do nothing but awkwardly shuffle backwards, my face red.

"You ready?" he asks Daryl.

Daryl finally stops staring at me, nodding. "Let's just get this done," he replies.

"DARYL! RICK!" T-Dog sprints towards us, eyes wide, and he slows to a stop as he shakes his head. "Randall's gone."

Rick and Daryl exchange a look and Daryl rushes after T-Dog. Rick looks back at me as he starts to walk, hand held out.

"Get the others," he says.

I book it into the house.

----------

Sure enough, Randall isn't in the shed. There are a few ratty blankets and a pair of bloodied handcuffs where he once was, but nothing else.

"How long's he been gone?" Hershel asks.

"Hard to say," Rick says, stepping out of the shed. "Cuffs are still hooked. He must've slipped 'em."

"Is that possible?" Carol asks.

"It is if you've got nothing to lose," Andrea says.

"The door was secured from the outside," Hershel says as he closes the door and checks the latch. "Did someone forget to lock it?"

"It was locked when I got here," T-Dog retorts.

"Maybe he slipped through a hole in the rafters or something?" Lori suggests. "It's an old shed."

"Daryl just patched those though," I say. Daryl nods in confirmation.

"So—"

"RICK! RICK!"

Shane storms out of the woods, nose and mouth bloody, gaze furious. He's bleeding so much that it's dripped onto his chest and shirt.

"What happened?" Lori calls to him.

"He's armed! He's got my gun!"

"Are you okay?" Carl asks.

"I'm fine. Little bastard just snuck up on me," he says. "He clocked me in the face!"

"Alright, Hershel, T-Dog, get everybody back in the house," Rick orders. "Glenn, Daryl, come with us."

"T, I'm gonna need that gun," Shane says as he points to the pistol on T-Dog's belt.

"Just let him go," Carol says. "That was the plan, wasn't it, to just let him go?"

"The plan was to cut him loose far away from here, not on our front step with a gun!" Rick retorts.

"Don't go out there. Y'all know what can happen!" Carol begs.

"Get everybody back in the house. Lock all the doors and stay put!"

I tap Carol's wrist and she turns to me, her face pained. "Hope—"

"They'll be fine," I insist. "Come on, we have to keep ourselves safe. They've got Daryl. I bet he can track him down in no time."

"Let's go, guys. Come on," T-Dog urges, ushering the both of us after everyone else.

As we go, I spare one more look over my shoulder, at the four men, and I pray that everything goes alright.