What Are You?

Different

There was something off about Carol.

She was different, and he didn't like it.

After gathering the water and living through another nightfall, he had noticed her missing amongst the group. Worried, he went out to find her. And she was just where he feared she'd be - out by the car they'd found, packing what little she had and preparing to leave. She didn't belong here anymore, she'd said. She didn't deserve this life, these people. She was too far gone.

Needless to say, he was hearing none of it.

He called bullshit on her ridiculous reasoning; she was staying, and that was the end of it. She wasn't useless or unneeded, like she'd said. The group couldn't do without her, wouldn't do without her. They needed her. Rick needed her, Judith needed her. He needed her. And no matter how much she wanted to separate herself from them, thought she was unworthy, it didn't change the fact.

Carol was important.

Carol was loved.

Carol was essential to the survival of others.

And he wouldn't stand to let her leave on such unfounded reasons.

But just as he had her in a mindset to stay, the moment was shattered.

A car drove by with a white cross on the back of it - just like the one that had taken Beth - and suddenly they were both getting in that little car and leaving without telling anyone. And just like that, they were on their way to save Beth Greene, and he was stuck in a car with an antisocial and unresponsive Carol.

They followed the car into a small town, but lost track of it due to their car running out of gas. Whoever they were, they were probably headed to the big city. And if it meant saving one of their own, that was exactly where they would be, come morning.

With the car out of gas, Carol led the two of them to a shelter for abused women. With some prodding, she admitted that she had been there once before, with Sophia. Before the infection. When Ed was still alive. He hadn't been able to get much more than that.

But that didn't mean he would give up, and it was when they were safe and sound inside the shelter, resting in one of the guest rooms, that he decided to try once more to get her to open up to him.

"Why don't you say what's really on your mind?" He asked, leaning over to rest his elbows on his knees from where he sat on the spare bunk bed.

Carol didn't answer him right away, just continued to stare out the window and into the night, like she'd been doing for the past ten minutes.

But after the longest of pauses and the heaviest of sighs, she said, "I don't think we get to save people anymore."

Daryl's head shot up, surprised at her answer. Did she really think that? Did she really believe that they didn't have the means to help people anymore?

He should have been satisfied with her admittance, happy that she finally shared something resembling a personal thought with him since reuniting, but it only spurred his curiosity and concern even more. What happened to the woman he knew back at the prison? The one who was optimistic and happy and cared about saving people?

"Then why are you here?" Daryl asked, wanting to know why she'd stuck around this long.

She turned to look back at him, using his own words from what he'd said earlier in the car. "I'm trying."

Wordlessly, Carol left her place by the window and walked over to the bed where he sat, sitting down beside him and lowering herself down onto the soft sheets. It was a little distracting, being so close to another person when he was so used to his personal space, but it wasn't enough to stop him from questioning her further.

"...When we were out by the car," he said suddenly, and she shifted uncomfortably beside him. "What woulda happened if I didn't show up?"

Would you have left?

He lowered himself down onto the bed beside her, and Carol shifted to give him more room.

She sighed.

"...I still don't know."

An obscure answer, but he was pretty sure he knew what she was trying to say.

I may have left, I may have not. But I probably would have if you hadn't come along.

They stayed like that, lying next to each other, staring up at the metal bars that held the top bunk securely over their heads. He wondered what was going through her mind, and he thought that maybe mirroring her position would give him some sort of insight.

Of course, he was wrong.

If anything, it only made things more complicated between them, and he honestly didn't know if any aspect of their old friendship could be salvaged if things continued to go the way they were going. In fact, he-

A loud crash came from beyond the room, and they simultaneously sat up and grabbed for their weapons, preparing to deal with any walkers that had gotten in. Daryl led the way and Carol followed, and the two slowly made their way down the hall and towards the source of the sound.

They didn't have to go far.

The sound was indeed that of a walker, three to be exact.

Their figures were obscurred by the smokey, rippled glass doors they were trying to break past, but their drastic differences in size and height made it clear; two of them were children.

Carol stilled behind him, and he froze as well.

It might as well have been Sophia or Lizzie and Mika behind that door.

Carol moved to stand in front of him, knife raised as she gripped the door handle and prepared to end the lifeless things on the other side, but Daryl's hand shot out to stop her.

"You don't have to," he said, trying to make her understand.

And it was true. She didn't have to. She shouldn't have to deal with this, with any of this. Hadn't she been through enough? Hadn't she already experienced enough pain and loss to last a lifetime over? It just wasn't right. And it wasn't fair to the woman who was still struggling with her personal demons.

"You don't," he said again, giving her wrist a comforting squeeze.

Carol nodded, and slowly lowered her weapon.

Silently, she turned around and headed back into the guest room, leaving Daryl to stare sadly at the little dead girls and their mother on the other side of the glass door. He would get rid of them later, he decided. Just after she fell asleep. He would burn the bodies, and she would never have to worry about them again.

Because if there was one thing he'd learned about Carol Peletier over the time he'd known her, it was that she couldn't handle having to take the life of another little girl. Another Sophia. Another Lizzie. Another Mika.

And it was then that he realized just how wrong everything was between them. He'd been ignoring it up until now, but it was true. Carol wasn't the same. And she never would be.

She was different.

But he was going to make her better.