Walking Dead 1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey Guys. So there's a big ol' break now until the next episode (wah), and I'm already having withdrawal symptoms. My brain immediately went "what happened next though? I MUST WRITE!" So I wrote.** **And I'm technically meant to be focussing on my final year of university, and actually writing my dissertation. But what can I say...I guess my priorities are wrong (right!).**

**So this wee one-shot is the immediate aftermath of the season 5 mid-season finale. Basically, I love Daryl's man pain. And I love Carol. And those two are just, like, meant to be together (don't judge me. I know they're fictional...but that love is REAL, bro!)**

**Anyway, I'm not a huge Beth fan, but got nothing against her either. And I get that her and Daryl definitely had some familial (cough not romantic. Like, at all. That's weird. cough) love going on so I get why he was all depressed about it. But no worries, Carol will sort him out!**

**OK I'm rambling, my bad. If you like this, please do leave me a review. Ta much me lovelies 3**

**Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I in any way affiliated with The Walking Dead and its characters. Gutted.**

Out Of The Shadow

With every step it felt as if gravity itself was increasing; his leaden legs struggling to lift his feet high enough to take the next step. It was like walking through quicksand, knowing soon enough his entire body would be swallowed, the air stolen from his lungs as he drowned in what vaguely registered as grief in his scrambled mind. His arms shook with the combined effort of holding back his emotions, and cradling her limp form.

His feet finally came to a stop in front of Maggie, crouched low and sobbing inconsolably as she desperately clutched at the asphalt beneath her. Through the blur of barely held back tears in his own eyes, he could see the confusion on Glenn's face as he held onto Maggie, his eyes flickering helplessly between his distraught wife and his sister-in-law.

Suddenly, Maggie's head whipped up from the ground as she felt him stand above her, and her eyes met Daryl's. All at once, Daryl felt the weight of the body in his arms become too much. He recognised the pain in Maggie's eyes; he was suddenly taken back to a time, so long ago now, when another blonde girl stumbled out of a barn as her Mother looked on helplessly. He could still feel Carol shaking in his arms, crouched in the dirt, pain swirling and twisting around their joined bodies, smothering them. Punching holes right through his gut.

The memory brought him harshly to his knees, the impact jarring up his spine and radiating from his skin as it scraped against the harsh concrete beneath him. He let out a silent sob. Before he could register what had happened, Beth was pulled from his arms, and he felt too weak to resist. As the weight was taken from him, a feeling of complete deflation overtook him, and he crumpled forward, his head falling into his hands, arms resting over his thighs as he sat back upon his feet. He could still hear Maggie's sobs, though they were strangely muffled now as she buried her face in her sister's hair.

His fingers tangled in his hair, tugging at it almost painfully as his mind flicked back and forth between this moment and the farm. Sophia's face. Beth's face. They seemed to morph and melt into each other, and all he could focus on was the feeling of complete failure that accompanied the image. He had failed. Again. He always failed. All he had to do was keep an eye on her. He should've kept her safe. He should've known better. He should've done…something. He could feel that his breathing was erratic, and he could feel the moisture pooling just under his closed eyelids. It was all too much.

He _felt_ her approach more than he heard it. Was sure he was imagining it, until her hand gripped him, just where his cut off sleeve met his shoulder. It was suddenly all he could focus on, and the sense of relief was overwhelming. He let out a shaky breath as he calmed. He didn't have to look to know that it was she who stood behind him. He recognised the tender strength in the hand resting gently upon his skin. Opening his eyes, he swiped quickly at the bead of moisture that escaped each one, keeping his head low to the ground.

Refusing to look at the mess of blonde hair tinged with dark red blood just to his left, he lifted himself, pushing himself to his feet. Her hand never left his shoulder as he turned slowly to face her, looking at the ground, knowing that no matter how hard he tried to hide it she would see the devastation in his face. He felt her free hand cup his chin. Lifting his eyes up to hers, he was blown away. Through her own barely held back tears, it seemed like the intensity of her gaze spoke to his very soul. Through the pain and the sadness, the worry and fear that he saw there, he also saw something else. It looked like…hope. Some strange certainty there, as if she was begging him to see that they'd be ok. It was like, without even saying a thing, she was echoing his own words back at him. _We ain't dead. We ain't ashes._ They'd get through this somehow. But what he felt most, flowing from her entire body and engulfing him, was the sense of absolute togetherness. And for the first time, maybe in his entire life, he felt like he wasn't completely alone.

Her hand lifted from his chin to rest softly upon his cheek. The movement startled him from the tumult of thoughts rooting him to the spot, and he felt an overwhelming need to just be close to her. Without fear or reservation, his head dropped down to her uninjured shoulder as he burrowed his face in her neck, letting out a shaky sigh.

Her injured arm fell upon his waist, curling around his back and pulling him to her as the fingers of her other hand tangled in the hair on the back of his head, holding his face close into her protective embrace. His arms wound themselves tightly around her as he relaxed completely into her touch. He wanted to hold her tighter, to somehow convey how much he needed her in that moment, but he was suddenly reminded of the trauma her body had gone through in the past few days.

Without loosening his hold on her body, he reluctantly lifted his head from her shoulder to look into her eyes, as her hand fell from his hair to rest upon the side of his neck. He saw the bruising above her left eye, and barely healed scabs down her cheek. What other damage was she hiding? Was she in pain?

"Hey, you ok?" he asked her, his voice sounding rough even to his ears.

She smiled sadly at him, blue eyes shining.

"I'm ok," she whispered back.

He nodded, unable to look away as her thumb gently stroked his jaw line, as if she was trying to wipe away the tension there.

"We should move. Before we get surrounded," Rick's voice rang out, breaking the relative silence that had befallen them.

Daryl and Carol broke eye contact, stepping just slightly apart with hands falling to their sides as they watched Tyreese approach. As he passed Daryl, he stopped briefly, placing his hand on Daryl's bicep.

"I can carry her," Tyreese said quietly, eyes falling upon Beth, before meeting Daryl's again. Daryl glanced quickly at Beth, looking away and nodding at Tyreese, unable to look at her limp body any longer.

He heard Tyreese crouch down, lifting Beth's body out of Maggie's hold gently, as Glenn pulled his grieving wife into his arms, lifting her from the hard ground.

Daryl made no attempt to move. His gaze remained on the floor at his feet, body turned towards Carol as he heard the shuffling feet of rest of the group heading out towards the fire truck. After a few moments, Carol squeezed his arm gently where her hand had been resting against his forearm. His eyes snapped up to hers, as if he was suddenly brought out of some distant thought.

"Come on. Time to go," she told him gently. He took a moment to gaze at her eyes, marvelling not for the first time at how much she spoke to him without even opening her mouth. Suddenly feeling shy at the realisation he had been staring, he cleared his throat, eyes falling to his feet before rising back to her face.

"Can you walk?" he asked gruffly.

"Just about," she replied, the barest hint of a smile upon her lips.

He started to turn around as her hand drifted down from his forearm, across his wrist and fell into place entwined with his own. He made no move to resist, as he squeezed her hand lightly. He adjusted his crossbow on his shoulder and turned towards the fire truck, guiding her towards the rest of the group.

He noticed her limping, and turned around in time to see her wince with each movement. He grunted. Stubborn woman never admitted when she needed help. Releasing her left hand from his right and taking it instead in his own left hand, he wrapped his right arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side and taking some of her weight. She squeezed his hand gratefully, and together they slowly made their way out of the shadow of Grady Memorial Hospital.

**Review? Please? Pretty please? xxx**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey there again. So I thought this was a one-shot, but then this chapter sneaked up on me last night demanding to be written. Basically, I feel there's still a lot that our lovely pair needs to discuss, and some bad feelings they need to get past. Cause let's be honest, we don't want no emo Daryl in 5b, but we DO want some Caryl lovin' mhmmmm! So in my head, a conversation similar to this needs to happen, though I doubt the show writers will give us this. So I wrote it anyway! HA!**

**Anways, enjoy this second chapter! I have no idea if there will be more…I suppose it depends if anything occurs to me to write. Or on the off-chance there is great demand for further chapters…reviews help… ;)**

**Sorry for rambling…again…**

**Commence CHAPTER 2**

The group had left Atlanta in silence, enveloped in shock and disbelief as half of them piled into the fire truck, whilst the rest made the short walk back to the van Daryl had found with Noah. No words were spoken as Daryl helped Carol climb up into the passenger side of the van, deliberately avoiding looking back as Tyreese lifted Beth into the back. Maggie clutched at Glenn's shirt, face buried in his shoulder as they waited their turn to climb in, closely followed by a sombre-faced Noah, and an almost stoic Sasha.

Once they had all climbed inside, Daryl shut Carol's side door, before circling around and swiftly pulling the back shutter closed before he could make eye contact with the people inside. Carol watched as he climbed up into the driver's side seat, slamming his own door almost angrily, though his face betrayed no emotion. His eyes were hard, lips pressed together in a harsh line and jaw clenched tight. He started up the engine, forcing it into gear roughly, and Carol noticed the slight tremble in his hands as they came to rest upon the steering wheel.

She could tell that he knew she was watching him. The way his eyes flickered uncomfortably as he kept his head straight on the road. His knuckles alternated in cycles between stark white as he clenched the wheel, and angry red as he released it and the blood rushed back to his fingers. But just as he refused to look at her, she refused to look away.

As they rounded a corner, the back of the stationary fire truck came into sight. It flashed its indicators, and Daryl responded with a flash of the headlights. The fire truck rolled from its spot and out into the road, and they fell into convoy, heading out of the city.

Daryl didn't know where they were driving to; there had been no discussion before the group split. But right now, he didn't even care where they were headed. He just wanted to get away from this place. The blackened high-risers and the junk littering the streets felt suffocating to him. He tried to clear his mind, but it seemed everywhere he looked he could see the word "failure" in clear, condemning letters. He could almost see it written across the walls of an office block. Even in the lines on the pavement. That word was everywhere. He swore he could even hear it in the rumbling of the engine.

Carol watched as the tension in his body coiled tighter and tighter, and he looked about ready to snap. Each breath he took rattled in and out of his lungs in barely contained rage.

"Stop it," she said suddenly, sternly but with no trace of hostility.

"Stop what?" he snarled, his eyes not leaving the road.

"Blaming yourself," she replied softly.

His nostrils flared at that. It was like she could hear his thoughts out loud. In that moment, he hated that he was so transparent to her. It only added to his rage.

"Yeah, well there ain't nobody else to blame," he growled.

"Daryl, it wasn't your fault," she pleaded with him.

"She was with me!" he almost shouted, his eyes finally meeting hers as his head whipped towards her.

In the few seconds he stared at her before his gaze fell back upon the road, she saw every one of his emotions play across his face. Anger. Self-loathing. Even fear. But what spoke to her most was the helplessness hiding just at the back of his eyes. She knew he was trying to hide it. No matter how close they had become, weakness was not something he would reveal lightly, even to her. But she saw it just the same. And she found herself shaking her head slowly at him as he turned back to the road, trying to even out his breathing.

"You know as well as I do that we don't all make it," she told him carefully, tears welling up in her eyes as she thought about the young girl she had loved so much. The girl she had mentored and mothered since their meeting at Hershel's farm. "We lose people no matter what. And there's not a damn thing we can do about it."

He stayed silent, listening to her words through the ringing in his ears.

"Beth made a mistake," She heard his sharp intake of breath at the mention of the girl's name, "but what she did, she did because she thought it was the right thing to do. She was strong; stronger than any of us gave her credit for. What she did was her choice, and nothing you or any of us could'a done would've changed that."

She watched as Daryl's hands released the angry grip they'd held upon the steering wheel, and his breath left him dejectedly. Whether or not he liked to admit it, her words had gotten through to him. He heard her, and felt her words, and he could feel the anger dissipating, and that helpless feeling overtaking him.

He marvelled at that. There was nobody he'd ever known in his life, before or after the dead started walking, that could calm him down with just words. And not for the first time, he was in awe of the tiny woman to his right. Time and time again she hacked at the walls he'd so carefully built around himself, and he knew it wouldn't be long before she tore them down completely.

He was suddenly taken back to the time they'd spent in Atlanta before she was kidnapped. Was it days ago? Hours? Time was scrambled in his head. The irony hit him hard then. He had spent that entire time alone with her trying to break through her own walls. Trying to get her to stop blaming herself for the things she had to do. He looked away from the road quickly to find her eyes still upon him.

"What 'bout you?" he said gruffly, "You stopped blaming _your_self yet?"

He knew he'd hit a nerve when her lip trembled, and she looked away from him at last, eyes falling to her hands in her lap.

"That's different," she half whispered.

"Bullshit," he said clearly.

"It is," she said, "you don't know what I did. What I had to do."

The thumb of her right hand scratched at the skin of her left palm, her lips folding together as she fought to keep her composure, willing the conversation to end.

"So tell me," he said gently, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"I…I don't think I can," she whispered, blinking back the moisture in her eyes.

"You can't hold it in forever," he answered, glancing at her in an attempt to break through the fog he had unwittingly brought down upon her head, "Just tell me," he implored softly.

Carol choked out a constrained sob, before taking a breath and taking control of herself.

"I saw the smoke," she started, eyes down focussing on the floor, "from the prison. I knew something was wrong. I came back, but by the time I got there it was overrun. Everyone was gone. I didn't even know if anyone got out. I was so…terrified, that you might be dead."

He swallowed thickly. He still hadn't forgiven Rick for sending her away back at the prison.

"I walked around the area for a while. Hoped maybe I'd run into someone. I found Tyreese and the girls. He was so happy to see me," she laughed humourlessly, "I figured he didn't know it was me who killed…"

She tailed off, knowing she didn't need to complete that sentence. She knew that Daryl knew it was she who had killed Karen and David.

"We travelled together for a while. Even felt like I had a purpose again. Like they needed me. We came across this pecan grove. Seemed like somewhere we could stay for a while. Keep the girls and Judith safe."

Daryl noticed her voice sounded almost wistful. Like she was somehow at peace in that thought. But as quickly as it had come, the peace was shattered, and her tone darkened.

"Lizzie was sick," she said solemnly.

There was silence for a few moments, and Daryl almost asked what she meant. Had Lizzie had the flu that had taken so many lives at the prison? Is that what happened to the girls?

As if reading his mind, Carol answered darkly.

"Not that kind of sick. Her mind…she was…" Carol tailed off, unsure of how to describe the state of Lizzie's mind.

"She thought that walkers were still people. Like, another stage of life. Said they were just different. Caught her playing chase with one out in the yard. She got mad when I put it down."

Daryl's eyebrows creased in confusion. And then it dawned on him.

"She the one feeding the walkers at the fence back at the prison?" he asked her.

She nodded tearfully before continuing.

"I didn't know what she was gonna do. I swear I didn't," she choked out, her hands reaching up to cover her face as unwanted memories swarmed her vision.

"Hey, it's ok," he spoke softly, reaching over to pull her hand from her face. Her wet eyes looked at his concerned features. "Just tell me," he echoed in a whisper.

He turned back to face the road, but kept his hand on her wrist at her side. She breathed in deeply.

"Me and Tyreese, we left the girls with Judith. Just for a few minutes while we went to hunt down a deer. When we got back…" her voice shook as the tears fell uncontrollably now, "Lizzie was just stood there. There was so much blood. And Mika…"

She didn't need to continue for Daryl to understand.

"Lizzie killed her," he mumbled, his hand travelling past her wrist to meet her hand. Her fingers clutched his desperately as she nodded. He squeezed her hand, urging her to continue.

"She was going to let her turn. She was going to do the same to Judith. We couldn't let her…I mean, we had to… She couldn't be with us." She sobbed.

"Hey, it's ok," Daryl spoke comfortingly, wishing more than anything he could just pull over and hold her.

"I killed her, Daryl," she almost shouted hysterically, before curling in on herself and whispering brokenly, "_I _killed her."

Daryl remained silent for a few moments, taking it all in, never relinquishing his hold upon her hand. His heart broke as he listened to her sobbing beside him. He wished more than anything that he could've been there with her. He would give anything to take this pain from her, but he knew he couldn't. And at last he understood why she hadn't told him. She thought he would judge her. Condemn her.

As if he ever could.

"Hey," he whispered. As if she hadn't heard him, she made no move to lift her head as her tears continued to flow.

"Hey," he said louder this time. Reluctantly she raised her shoulders, looking up to meet his eyes, "you did what you had to do. I'm sorry you had to do it, but you _had _to do it. Y'hear me?"

She sniffled, swiping at the tear tracks upon her cheeks as he struggled to keep looking between her and the road ahead.

"Ain't nobody I ever met cares about people as much as you," he told her reassuringly, "this life makes us do shitty things. Don't make us shitty people. I know you. You ain't no cold-blooded killer. You're just strong enough to do what's gotta be done."

She clutched at his hand like a lifeline, and marvelled at his words. She had been right before, he really was a man now. And as his blue eyes met hers, she felt for the first time that maybe she _could _move past this. She'd never felt more loved, understood, cared for than in that moment.

As they drove onwards out of the city, she squeezed his fingers and whispered.

"Thank you."

* * *

><p>The group stood around the gravesite in the clearing in the woods. Maggie laid the last shovel-full of dirt over the ground above her sister, before kneeling to pat the earth, pressing her hand down firmly as if feeling for some warmth. Daryl looked around at his makeshift family. Some took comfort in each other; Sasha clung to Tyreese's midriff, his arm clutched tightly around her shoulder. Rick held Judith in one arm, his other falling across his son's shoulder, whose other hand was held safely in Michonne's. Rosita and Abraham stood just off to the side with their hands clasped.<p>

Others stood alone; Noah stood awkwardly to the side, and Daryl could see the guilt in his eyes. Tara stood close to Eugene, who swayed slightly on his feet, still dazed from his time unconscious. Glenn stood over his wife, helping her to her feet as Gabriel stood before them all, a bible in his hands, as he began to read a passage.

Daryl had never cared much for religion. He figured any God up there, if he did exist, clearly wanted nothing to do with him or any other Dixon for that matter. He tuned out the words being spoken, and instead chose to focus on the woman stood beside him.

Glancing sideways at Carol, he could see her eyes were focussed on the brown mound of earth before them. She looked utterly devastated despite her eyes remaining dry, and Daryl figured she must have shed all the tears her body could muster. He felt a similar sensation. He was emotionally exhausted, and all he could feel was a numbness falling upon him. Absentmindedly, he found his hand reaching for hers, and she took it unflinchingly. It amazed him how comfortable he felt at the contact. Perhaps this woman had changed him more than he ever thought possible.

As he looked around at the tired and grief-stricken faces of those he'd come to call friends, he wondered how long they could keep going. How many more tragedies would it take before they were too far gone? But as Carol squeezed his hand, Beth's words from not so long ago entered his mind. Words uttered as they sat in front of an old shack, lit up on moonshine and reminiscing about the good (and not so good) times.

"_You have to put it away."_

"_What if you can't?"_

"_You have to. Or it _kills_ you."_

Despite himself, he felt the tiniest smile tug at the corner of his mouth. And as he listened to the unfamiliar words of the priest, he breathed in the clean air of the woods, and closed his eyes as the last rays of sunshine disappeared behind the trees. And as sunset fell over the forest, he knew that he'd keep pushing on. He wouldn't go down without a fight.

**Reviews are just lovely, aren't they?**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey guys, back again. So yesterday I wrote the first 1000 words of my dissertation (yay me) so in celebration I decided to…write this! Damn, it's a good job I like writing!**

**Anyway, this little thing that started off as a one-shot in my head is growing and growing and now I give you chapter 3!**

**Again, no idea if I will write more. Depends if the ideas keep flowing…**

**If you like this, please do drop me a review. Or if you want to tell me how bad I am at writing, that's cool too :)**

EDIT: In response to an anonymous review (and therefore can't reply) I've just had on Chapter 1 where I was more or less told not to write anything to do with the mid-season finale because "it isn't done right and just serves to further the shipping war", I would just like to say that in no way am I forcing anybody to read what I write, nor do I care enough about this "shipping war" to attempt to fuel it. It's a TV show...it's about time people saw it as such. I will write what I want to write, that is my right (lol). I'm not insulting anyone or hurting anyone by putting pen to paper about fictional characters on a fan fiction site where the entire point is freedom of expression. I clearly wrote in the summary of this story what it was about and warned it was Caryl. Don't like, don't click. Simple as!

**Anyways, sorry for ranting. If you've enjoyed what I've written so far, you presumably have no stick up your behind! So please, keep reading and enjoy my third instalment :)**

**ONWARDS**

It was nightfall by the time they found the house. Rick had spotted the entrance to a wide dirt path just off the main road, curling off deeper into the woods. Though overgrown, both the fire truck and the box truck easily brushed through the creeping undergrowth that stretched like tendrils across the path. The scratching of branches across metal as they made their way deeper into the trees broke the silence uncomfortably. It reminded Daryl of nails scraping across a chalkboard, eliciting a shiver that crept up his neck.

He quickly glanced to his side to find Carol still slumped against the window, peacefully oblivious, eyes closed and features more relaxed than he could remember seeing them in a long time. Her quiet breathing, in time with the gentle rise and fall of her chest, lulled him, almost seeming to massage the tension from his shoulders without even a touch. She calmed and terrified him all at the same time, and he struggled to recall a time he'd ever felt that before, though he knew without a doubt that he hadn't.

A short time later, the break lights of the fire truck lit up his vision as it pulled to a stop. Daryl drove round alongside, rolling his window down when he came into line with the passenger side window of the fire truck to find Abraham sat beside Rick.

"What d'ya think?" Rick asked, leaning over Abraham slightly from the driver's side to speak to Daryl, gesturing into the clearing ahead.

Daryl squinted, trying his best to survey the area with only the headlights of the two vehicles and the gentle dusting of moonlight to illuminate the view. He could make out the house easily enough, though. It was a modest building. It stood two stories high, and Daryl reckoned it probably had three, maybe four bedrooms. It would be tight with the whole group in there, but it was four walls and a roof, and a hell of a lot better than sleeping out on the dirt or huddled up uncomfortably in the back of a truck.

"Let's check it out," Daryl nodded, turning back to Rick.

"OK," Rick nodded, as they both killed their engines.

Daryl turned to look at the sleeping woman beside him, loath to wake her. But as he cut the engine and the steady rumble was silenced, she seemed to rouse on her own, eyes fluttering open and looking around before finding his blue ones looking at her almost reverently. She smiled slightly.

"Mornin'" he spoke softly in his gruff tone, a slight smirk on lifting the corner of his mouth.

"Where are we?" she asked groggily, wincing at the pain that assaulted her ribs as she tried to lift herself up fully in her seat.

"No idea," he grunted, looking back out at the house, "think we found a place to hole up."

He nodded ahead as she looked out at the house. The sound of the fire truck doors slamming as Abraham and Rick climbed out kicked Daryl into gear.

"I gotta go help clear it," he said looking back at her as he opened his door, "stay here."

She nodded, and he threw her a half smile as he turned to clamber out, pulling his crossbow from where it lay on the seat between them and slamming the door behind him. He circled round to the back of the truck, opening the hatch to let out the occupants.

"We've found a place for the night," Daryl grunted by way of an explanation as they began to file out, stretching their legs, "Glenn, wanna give us a hand clearing?"

"Sure," Glenn said, turning to Maggie as if asking for permission. She nodded mutely, releasing his waist and sitting back on the truck bed as Glenn gazed at her worriedly.

Daryl clapped Glenn on the shoulder, guiding him round to the front of the truck to meet the others.

"How's she doin'?" Daryl asked, fearing he knew the answer.

"Not so good," Glenn answered sombrely, "She's barely spoken since the hospital."

"I'm sorry, man," Daryl replied quietly, feeling his guilt wash over him again.

"Hey, wasn't your fault," Glenn answered, placing his hand on Daryl's shoulder as Daryl refused to meet his eyes, "We all know that. Maggie knows that."

Daryl looked up, doubt written plain in the angry curve of his brow.

"Glenn, Daryl, let's go," Rick interrupted, kicking them into action.

They followed Rick, Abraham and Michonne up the porch. Daryl stepped forward to jimmy the lock. In seconds the door was open, and they cautiously stepped in, weapons raised.

They all stood in the entryway, waiting as Michonne knocked her sword loudly against the wall, hoping to draw out any walkers.

Seconds passed with no sign of life or afterlife. They split off to search the house, Rick and Abraham taking the first floor while Michonne, Glenn and Daryl took the ground floor. The light from their torches danced across the walls as they split off, with calls of "clear" ringing out as each room was deemed safe.

As he treaded softly down the corridor, Daryl took in the building. The downstairs was spacious, with a large kitchen with the dining table in the centre. There was also a living room, with two three-seater couches and plenty of floor space. Half the group could sleep in here and there'd still be plenty of room, he thought.

Across the hallway there was a small study with a smaller couch and a bathroom. Daryl came across another door, seemingly leading to the basement. He tried the handle but it seemed to be locked from the inside. Just as he was reaching for his knife to bust the lock, he jumped backwards as something on the other side threw itself at the door, familiar snarls muffled by the wood.

"'Chonne," he called out, as the samurai appeared in the kitchen doorway, "Got ourselves a friend," he commented, gesturing to the still closed cellar door.

Michonne nodded, taking her place beside the archer, sword raised in readiness. He crouched forward, pressing his weight on the door and keeping it closed as his knife slid between the door and the frame. At the click of the lock, he placed his knife back in its holster and raised his crossbow at the ready.

"Three, two…" he whispered as she nodded in time with his counts, "one!"

He pulled the door open, jumping back as the mangled walker stumbled forward. Michonne's sword swung past in a whoosh, cutting the walker's head clean in half as it crumpled to the floor at Daryl's feet. Daryl noticed the single bite mark on the walker's neck, but other than that and the normal signs of decay, it seemed relatively uninjured. Not for the first time, Daryl considered how just one bite, just one scratch and that was it. You were done. So little separated you from being alive, and being one of them.

Shaking away the thought and stepping over the body, Daryl approached the top of the stairs leading down to the basement, and shined his torch down. He almost gagged at the sight that met him. In the corner, on a blood stained blanket, were the half eaten remains of what appeared to be a mother and a young boy. From the size of the mostly fleshless bones, Daryl guessed he had to have been close to five or six years old. There was no movement from the child, but the mother's mouth opened and closed slowly, the wretched snarls coming weakly from what remained of her throat.

The sound of Michonne's gasp as she peered past his shoulder woke him from his stupor, as he glanced back quickly to look at her.

"Son of a bitch must'a been bit, locked all three of 'em in here thinkin' they'd be safe," Daryl muttered, finding his voice as his brain constructed what happened here.

He didn't need to elaborate, knowing Michonne would've put two and two together. He tried to shake the images flooding his mind, of the mother, trying desperately to shield her child from the father as his reanimated body stumbled towards them, teeth bared and dead eyes glaring.

Taking a deep breath and throwing his crossbow across his shoulder, he almost jumped down the remaining steps, plunging his knife angrily into the temple of the mother, turning away as the bile rose in his throat. He spotted a pile of blankets on the other side of the room. Deciding there was no point in moving what was left of the two bodies in the cellar, knowing they would crumble before he could carry them out, he carefully threw the blankets over them.

He stood over their covered forms as Rick and Abraham appeared in the doorway.

"What's going on?" Rick asked, "What's under there?"

Daryl turned, making eye contact only for a second before looking down at the floor at his feet.

"You don't wanna know," he replied.

Rick looked at Michonne, who just shook her head at him solemnly. Rick nodded, before sidling past the samurai and heading down the steps and looking around the room. There were three small crates of tinned food and bottled water under the stairs. He picked one up, turning and walking over to Daryl. He nudged the archer's elbow to get his attention. Daryl turned, taking the crate from Rick without making eye contact before heading for the stairs, storming past the others with his head down.

He placed the crate down in the hall, before rushing for the front door, needing some fresh air to clear the stench of death that had filled his nose and his thoughts. He stepped out to find the rest of the group stood outside the trucks and looking up expectantly. A strange nervousness hit him as he saw all their eyes on him, before he made eye contact with Carol. Concern was evident on her face.

"S'all clear," he muttered, heading down the steps as the others jumped into action, heading for the warmth of the house.

Carol's feet remained planted in place where she leaned against the hood of the truck, but she stood up straight as he approached, watching him look down at his feet the whole way.

"You ok?" she asked as he came to a stop before her. He looked up at her, and she noticed the strained, almost tired look on his face.

"M'fine," he answered, "come on," he tilted his head as if telling her to follow him, holding out his arm.

She stepped into his embrace as he supported her weight, his arm wrapping around her midriff as she clutched his shoulder. They made their way slowly towards the house. Halfway there, Carol watched as Abraham dragged the male walker down the porch steps and away from the house. Daryl pointedly refused to look, focussing instead on the uneven ground at their feet.

When they reached the top of the porch steps and stepped into the hallway, Daryl noticed the basement door was now shut. Quickly, he slipped from Carol's embrace, stepping up to the door and pulling out his knife, deftly carving a large "X" into the wood.

When he was done, he placed his knife back at his hip, and turned to find Carol gazing at him quizzically. He just shook his head, knowing she would understand and know not to ask. He took his place at her side again, helping her into the living room. Both couches were occupied, but as Daryl and Carol entered the room, Noah quickly jumped from his seat at the end of one sofa, allowing Daryl to gently lower Carol into it.

Daryl nodded his thanks at Noah, who threw a half smile before setting himself on the floor by the window. Once Carol was settled, Daryl sat on the armrest beside her, and she leaned her head to the side to rest against his ribs.

Rick entered the living room carrying one of the crates of food, followed by Michonne carrying another. They set them down in the centre of the room.

"Anyone hungry?" Rick asked, smiling at the faces that lit up all around him at the promise of something in their empty stomachs. He didn't wait for an answer before passing the cans out around the group as Michonne hurried off to the kitchen in search of forks and spoons.

The promise of food loosened jaws, and before long there was a gentle hubbub of voices, never growing too loud for fear of attracting walkers. Rick handed Carol a can of peaches, knowing she had a fondness for them. She smiled her thanks. Rick tried to hand Daryl a can, but he pushed it away.

"I'm good," he muttered. Rick nodded, knowing there was no point in arguing with the stubborn redneck.

"Daryl, you gotta eat," Carol chastised, looking up at him.

"I'm not hungry," he answered truthfully. The sight from the basement had turned his stomach right over, and food was the last thing he wanted right now.

"When was the last time you ate?" she asked, not giving up.

In truth, he couldn't remember. There was the bag of chips he'd had in Atlanta when they were looking for… His brain stopped that thought before it could continue.

"I dunno," he answered distantly, "day or two."

She sighed as his eyes focussed anywhere but on hers.

"Please," she asked softly, pulling his gaze down to her.

He knew he shouldn't have looked at her the second his eyes fell upon her features. Though she was trying to hide it, he could see how worried she was about him. Damned if he was going to let her feel like that. He huffed, frowning down at her in faked annoyance.

"Fine," he snarled, as Rick immediately held out a second can of peaches, which he took none too gently, ripping the lid off by the ring pull and handing it to Carol, before taking hers and doing the same.

He felt a nudge on his arm as Michonne gestured for him to take the two forks she held out to him. He grunted his thanks as he took them, handing one to Carol.

The chatter continued around them, though Daryl and Carol ate in silence. He tried to ignore the pain on her face as she chewed, knowing the bruising on her cheek must be making eating that much more difficult. He found the sickness in his stomach settled after the first couple of bites, and he was overcome with hunger. He'd wolfed down the entire can before Carol was half way through hers, throwing the empty tin and fork down on the floor by the crates.

"Thought you weren't hungry," Carol snickered, trying to hide her smirk.

"I wasn't," he answered.

"Then I'd hate to see how fast you eat when you are," she smiled.

"Just eat your damn peaches," he grunted, nudging her arm playfully.

She winced as he jolted her injured shoulder.

"Shit!" he cursed, jumping up from the armrest, "'m sorry."

"It's ok," she smiled through the pain.

"I forgot," he answered shyly, looking around embarrassedly as other members of the groups looked up at the disturbance.

"It's ok, I'm fine," she said softly, "Come on," she said encouragingly, gesturing to the armrest.

He chewed his lip and then the side of his thumb as he slowly sat back down beside her, and everyone continued their conversations.

Soon after everyone had eaten their share of food, Rick stood up to address the group.

"So, upstairs there's four bedrooms; two doubles, one single and the last room has two single beds. Then we got the two couches in here, and one in the study. I think what would be best is if Abe and Rosita take one double, Glenn and Maggie the other. Ty and Sasha, you can take the room with the two singles. Michonne and Tara, you can have the couches. Carl and I can sleep on the floor in here with Jude. That leaves Gabriel with the couch in the study. Carol, you can have the last bed. Daryl, Noah and Eugene, you guys good to find some floor space?"

"I don't need a bed," Carol interjected, "let Carl or Noah have it."

"No, we need you to heal," Rick shook his head, "better chance of that happening quicker if you're in a bed than on the floor."

"But I don't…" she began to argue.

"You're taking the bed," Rick turned to stare her down. Knowing it wasn't worth the argument, she kept her mouth shut. Taking this as her backing down, Rick turned back to the rest of the group, "Everyone happy?"

He was met with nods and hums of approval.

"Good, ok," he declared, "tomorrow we move out, so try and get some sleep."

As he finished speaking, people started getting to their feet, moving to their allotted beds.

Daryl stood, leaning down to help Carol up. She lifted her arm around his shoulder as she was once again pulled into his side. Her body seemed to have seized up in the time sat on the sofa, and every movement sent pain through her entire body. Daryl noticed her face contort with every step, and by the time they reached the bottom of the stairs her fingernails had almost clawed a hole in his ribs where she clung to his side.

Bending forward slightly and lifting her arm round his shoulder, he placed on arm round her back and one behind her knees, scooping her up into his arms as gently as he could manage. At first she gripped his shirt tightly, wincing at the pressure on her ribs, before relaxing as the pain dulled. By the time the pain had passed enough for her conscious thought to return, he had carried her halfway up the stairs.

He spotted the room with the single bed as he reached the top step, and made a beeline for the bed; despite how little she weighed these days, carrying someone up a flight of stairs with nothing but a can of peaches in your stomach could really take it out of you. He silently thanked the owner of the bed for leaving the covers half way down, as he gently set Carol down upon the mattress.

At the feel of the soft bed beneath her, she sighed. She leaned forward to try and undo her boots, but the pain left her breathless and she fell back into the pillow.

Daryl lurched forward, setting himself on the edge of the bed beside her and reaching for the straps of her boots. She smiled at the concentration on his face as he worked each strap, his brow furrowed as he chewed on his lip. His long hair fell over his eyes like a dark curtain, and she had to stop herself from reaching out and brushing it aside.

Once he had removed both her boots and placed them on the floor by the bed, he helped her shrug out of her jacket as her eyes screwed shut against the pain. Dropping the discarded jacket to the floor beside the boots, he pulled the covers up and over her as she settled back into the mattress, melting into the soft sheets.

"Thanks," she whispered, smiling up at him softly.

"No problem," he shrugged, standing awkwardly at her bedside.

"Where you gonna sleep?" she asked tiredly.

"I'm not really tired. Might take first watch," he answered. She nodded, knowing that arguing with him would prove fruitless.

"Just make sure you get some sleep," she whispered.

He nodded, throwing her one last unreadable look before turning and walking out quickly, pulling the door behind him so it rested slightly open, and hurrying down the stairs. Within minutes of his silhouette disappearing, she had fallen back into her dreams.

Daryl sat alone on the porch steps, gazing out into the blackness of the woods. The night was silent and calm, and he felt his thoughts drifting as his chin rested on the butt of his crossbow. He couldn't seem to shake the image of the bodies he'd found in the basement earlier. Just that one bite the father had received, and that was it. What with that, and everything with…Beth, he forced her name out in his head, he was reminded just how fragile life is these days. How the tiniest mistake, the smallest wrong move or the most pointless distraction could spell out the end, and it could all be over.

And Carol. Look how close he'd come to losing her. He'd lived in a bubble of denial for too long, believing no matter what that she'd be ok because the alternative was too much for his brain to contemplate. But now, he saw clear as day the truth of it. That he could lose her, just as easily as they lost Beth, and Hershel, and Merle. She could be gone in a split second, and there'd be nothing he could do. For the first time in a long time, he was terrified.

He was so enveloped in his thoughts that he didn't hear the sound of the door closing softly behind him, or the footsteps approaching him from behind. It wasn't until he felt the hand on his shoulder that he realised he wasn't alone, and he jumped up in shock, almost falling down the porch steps as he swung his crossbow round and came face to face with Rick.

"Hey, whoa," Rick said quietly, raising his arms up in surrender.

Daryl fought to control his breathing, dropping his crossbow down to his side and running a hand through his hair.

"Sorry," Daryl grunted, turning away from Rick.

"It's ok," Rick reassured, "everything alright?"

Daryl turned to face him, as the hard indifference returned to his features.

"I'm fine, just tired is all," Daryl responded, trying to find a suitable excuse.

"You go on in and get some sleep. I'll take over," Rick offered.

Daryl nodded, not wanting to argue, but suddenly feeling the need to be upstairs where he could see her.

"Thanks," Daryl grunted as he climbed the porch steps two at a time, silently entering the house and creeping up the stairs.

He felt his hands shaking as he quietly pushed the door to her room open. Through the dark, he could just make out her form, lying on her side facing the door. Judging by her deep breathing, she was asleep, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Placing his bow down and leaning it against a chest of drawers, he left the door slightly ajar and crept to her side. The moonlight filtering in through the open curtains illuminated her face, and she looked so vulnerable. And in that moment, he felt entirely vulnerable along with her. He crouched down beside her bed, leaning his back against it and drawing his knees up, listening to her soft breaths behind him. It soothed him somehow, and he felt the fear dissipating slightly as the minutes stretched on.

"Daryl?" he heard her whisper. He turned his head to find her watching him, and he was suddenly embarrassed that she'd caught him having snuck into the room.

He stood up suddenly, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "I just…" he tailed off, not knowing really what he wanted to say.

She considered him for a moment, before reaching back and peeling back the cover on the other side of the bed.

"Come on," she said, gesturing with a nod to the spot beside her, "no sense you sleepin' on the floor."

He opened and closed his mouth several times, not knowing how to respond.

"Come on," she said again, and he found his feet moving around the end of the bed and coming to rest on her other side.

Before he could consider what he was doing, he shrugged off his angel-wing vest, tossing it to the side, and toed off his boots. She held back the cover as he collapsed onto the mattress, before lifting it back over him. He lay on his back, and she could feel his tension.

"You've been off since we found this place," she whispered when his eyes stayed glued to the ceiling and he showed no signs of relaxing, "what's going on?"

"Nothin'," he answered, refusing to look at her.

"Bullshit," she replied.

His head turned to look at her and the concern in her features wore him down. He considered how to explain it to her without sounding like a total dick.

"Just," he started quietly, "we keep losin' people. Just like that, you know, they're gone."

She hummed in agreement, while he tried to find courage to say what he knew he needed to.

"You…" he tailed off, almost losing his nerve. Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"…You're all I got left," he mumbled, looking back at the ceiling quickly.

Suddenly she understood. She curled onto her good side, facing him while he point-blank refused to look at her.

"Daryl," she said softly. When he refused to acknowledge her, she reached out her hand and rested it gently upon his jaw, pulling his face to look at her. Nervously he complied, and his eyes fell on hers, "You won't lose me. I promise."

He swallowed thickly, but found he couldn't look away as she smiled sadly at him. Though he couldn't find it in him to believe her completely, he felt some comfort at her words, and he found himself rolling into her. She rolled onto her back as his head settled in the crook of her neck and he wrapped his arms gently around her torso.

He breathed her in, clutching her to him as she stroked the back of his head soothingly. It was overwhelming how safe he felt here in her arms, and the feeling of rightness that washed over him lulled him into a semiconscious state. He could feel her breathing deepening under his cheek as she fell back into slumber, and as he curled his leg over both of hers, he felt himself follow her.

**Please review…they make me so very happy ^.^**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Evening lads and lasses. Another chapter popped into fruition today. Hope you like it!**

**Oh, and happy belated Christmas! **

**Chapter 4!**

He could feel the fear rippling through him as he pressed hard against the cellar door, forcing it closed tight even as the monsters on the other side threw themselves against it, snarling and letting out guttural moans. He knew that the basement door was strong; they wouldn't get past it. Taking a deep breath, he moved back a step, turning to look down into the depths of the cellar. A woman and young boy he didn't recognise were huddled in the corner on the mess of blankets they'd laid out, shaking with pure terror, eyes wide and fearful.

"Daddy?" the little boy asked quietly.

And suddenly he did recognise them. Of course he did. This was their house. That was his wife and child. Though he couldn't quite place their names, and the faces were not familiar, he felt it. He knew it. Though he had the strange sensation of not even knowing who he, himself, was.

"It's alright," he said, feeling the need to reassure the boy. His son.

The boy nodded quickly, though he looked no less scared.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his neck. Lifting his hand up reflexively, he gasped, wincing when his fingers met a sharp, wet dent where his shoulder met his neck. It was rippled and mottled, almost like…

Tooth marks. There were tooth marks in his neck. He'd been bitten. He remembered now. He pulled his fingers away from his neck, eyes widening in panic as the blood dripped languidly from his digits.

He was suddenly hit by a wave of hunger. It grew and grew, only he couldn't put his finger on what he was craving. His vision became glassy as he continued to watch the blood drip from his fingers. He was suddenly overcome with the urge to taste that same blood on his hands. Unable to stop himself, he raised his hand to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick the warm stickiness. He recognised the harsh metallic taste that would normally make him gag, but somehow the taste just ignited his hunger. It was like heroin. He felt a bone deep craving overcome him. He needed more.

"Daddy?" a voice called softly.

His eyes darted up. But instead of seeing the faces of the people who had previously stood before him, he saw altogether different, and far more familiar ones. A woman with short, grey hair, and the bluest eyes he'd ever seen, holding a baby girl, not quite a toddler, in her arms. She was flanked by two others, both young and blonde, and so, so familiar. One stood a few inches taller than the other, her long hair tied back, watching him with big doe eyes. The other was smaller, with shorter hair. Her face was less clear, almost hazy like a long lost memory, but the blue tee shirt with the rainbow on the front was clear as day. It was she who had called out for him.

He took in each of their faces as they each stared back at him in fear. He started towards them, needing to reassure them. But as his feet moved, that temporarily forgotten hunger crept back to him, quickly overcoming him. He watched as his arms reached out in front of him, fingers like claws, and the skin colourless and cold. He heard those guttural snarls, and was taken aback when he realised they'd come from him.

He tried to scream; to tell them to run. But no words came out. Just more snarls. And that insatiable hunger, growing and growing, stronger and stronger.

_Please, _he thought. _Just run. I don't wanna hurt you._

But they just stood. Watching him as he got closer and closer. He was almost upon them, and his eyes came to rest upon the grey-haired woman. The two girls and the baby melted away from his vision, and it was just _her_. The sight of the woman whose face normally filled him with such warmth, now consumed and crushed him painfully, sending a crippling iciness to his heart like a glass shard. The terror in her eyes made him want to scream. She backed away from him until her back met the stone cold wall.

"Please," she whimpered.

He couldn't breathe. He screamed and screamed internally, begging himself to stop. But the hunger was voracious, and his hands continued to reach forward as he stumbled closer and closer.

All at once he was upon her, and his hands closed around her shoulders, gripping her too hard. He could see the tears on her cheeks, but still he couldn't stop.

"Daryl!" she cried as his face closed in on her neck.

"Daryl!" she screamed again.

He couldn't stop. His teeth sunk into her soft flesh, and he felt the tang of her blood flood his mouth as he chomped down harder, through muscle and ligament until his teeth crunched against bone.

"Daryl," she called, clearer to his ears now.

His eyes snapped open, meeting hers as she looked down upon him, nothing but worry on her features. He blinked to clear the fog from his head, his eyes darting around the room. The ceiling was above him, and he was back on that bed. As awareness flooded back to him, his eyes fell back upon Carol. He was suddenly and sharply reminded of the apparent nightmare, the feel of her flesh between his teeth and the taste of her blood, far too realistic and raw, returning and lingering in his mouth.

He sat up so quickly that Carol was forced to jump back as he threw himself off the bed, falling to his knees and retching. Nothing but bile left his empty stomach, but the nausea didn't pass quickly, and he coughed painfully as he fought to regain his breath. He felt her hand come to rest upon his shoulder.

"Daryl," she whispered, rubbing smooth circles on his back as she crouched by his side. He hung his head low with his hair covering his eyes, refusing to meet her insistent gaze, "it's OK, you were dreaming."

His breathing evened out as he relaxed into her touch, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her. The fear in her eyes from his nightmare lingered on the edge of his vision.

Taking a deep breath, he got quickly to his feet, offering his hand to Carol without looking in her direction. She took it, struggling to her feet past the pain in her ribs. He quickly released her hand and paced over to the window, bracing his hands against the windowsill, hunching forward slightly. He pressed his eyelids together tight, letting his forehead fall against the cool glass. The draft of cold air through the cracks in the window frame dried the sweat on his face.

He heard her quiet footsteps approach. Part of him wished she'd leave him be for just a minute. Give him the space he was so used to having. But the thought of not having her here with him, where he could see her, feel her presence, filled him with a strange sense of panic.

The feel of her gentle hands, one flat upon each shoulder blade, didn't startle him or cause him to tense up, as it once would have. In fact, it felt strangely normal to him. Like her hands were meant to be there. Like they were almost a part of him. He supposed that was what she was now. Whether or not he had intended it, she was such a part of him now that even the thought of her not being there left him feeling empty. Hollow.

He felt her forehead drop to rest between his shoulder blades, as her arms slid down his back and curled round his waist, hands clasping together against his stomach. He opened his eyes slowly, looking down at the pale fingers entwined at his midriff, and wondered not for the first time why she cared so much about him.

He looked up and out of the window. Though it was still dark out, the sky had a lightness to it that only appeared in the minutes before the sun crested the horizon. It was almost dawn. Too early to have woken with so little sleep, but he knew there was no hope of getting back to sleep now. Not with the terrible images lurking in his mind still. Regardless, he thought, Carol needed her rest more than anyone.

He stood up straight, turning in the circle of her arms and resting his hands gently upon her biceps. He finally brought his eyes to meet hers. He had thought that looking upon them would take him back into that nightmare, but the cool blue pools had the opposite effect, calming him. Reassuring him. She was alive and she was here.

Relief washed over him, and without conscious thought, his forehead fell forward gently to rest against hers. Her eyes slid shut and she breathed deep, but his eyes never left her face. He watched as she breathed in and out, her soft breaths ghosting across his mouth. He was mesmerised by the contours of her face, the slight upward curve of her lips as she stood there peacefully. There was a calmness there that he wasn't sure he'd seen in a long time. He took it as a sign of her recovery. She was finally coming out of that cold shell she had been in since the prison, and he found himself smiling ever so slightly in spite of himself.

He was hit with momentary disappointment as she moved her face back from his, before she rolled her head forward to bury her face in his shoulder, wrapping her arms tighter around his torso.

Without hesitation, he found himself curling his arms around her, pulling her further into his embrace as he nestled his face in the hair at the side of her head, his lips resting lightly against her ear.

"Wanna talk about it?" she mumbled into his shirt. He knew she could feel the scars on his back through his shirt; her thumb rolled gently across one of the deeper welts, caressing it as if she could erase it with nothing but the softness of her touch.

He shook his head no, knowing she would feel it.

"OK," she whispered. He had half expected her to persist, to be offended when he wouldn't open up, but she knew him better than that. She must have known he couldn't talk about it. It was still too vivid, too raw.

So they just stood, and he held her and she held him. As the first rays of sunlight crested over the trees, Daryl squeezed her lightly, sensing she had almost drifted off in his embrace.

"Come on," he mumbled against her ear, "we'll be moving on in couple hours. You need to sleep some more."

She took a deep breath but didn't protest as she loosened her hold. He released her too, leaving one arm against the back of her shoulder as she looked up at him, her eyes lidded with exhaustion. He gave a half smile of reassurance, before gesturing toward the bed with a nod of his head.

She turned back to the bed, and started shuffling towards it stiffly. He helped her lower herself down to the mattress, waiting until she had lain down fully and shuffled over before climbing in beside her. He lay on his back, arms bent and hands behind his head. He felt her watching him, but his eyes remained trained on the ceiling.

"Hey," she whispered, leaning up on her elbow to look at him.

"Hmm?" he mumbled, meeting her eyes.

"We're still here," she said softly, before whispering so quietly he almost didn't hear it, "I'm still here."

He considered her words for a second, before nodding slowly.

"I know," he whispered in reply, sending her a quick, almost sad smile, which she returned before pushing herself toward him, resting her head on his shoulder and curling her arm across his chest.

After a moment, he lowered his hands from behind his head, moving the one caught under her head to curl over her shoulder, pulling her closer into him. His other hand came to rest beside hers on his chest. Her fingers quickly found his and she entwined them together. Her leg curled over one of his, wrapping around it.

Within minutes he felt her breaths against his neck deepen, and all the tension in her body drain away as she once again fell into sleep. Though he knew he wouldn't be able to follow her there again any time soon, the feel of her small body curled safely against his own helped him relax some, and the terrible images that had clouded his vision since he had awoken seemed now to be just that; just images. Carol was here. Safe. And he would do his damnedest to keep it that way.

**Feel free to review. If you have any ideas for where this could go, feel free to drop some ideas off too…prompts may help the muse!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Back again! Happy New Year!**

**Kinda have a few ideas where to take this for a couple of chapters, just need to find time to write them between my dissertation and revision for January exams (which I have yet to start…oops!)**

**Anyway, enjoy and leave a review? Ta :)**

As the sun rose higher over the trees, Daryl heard the first sounds of movement from downstairs as the weary survivors awoke, though he doubted many of them had slept too well. He had heard Maggie's soft sobbing through the partially open door for the past hour, along with Glenn's quiet hushing. Daryl wanted to cover his ears, but he took it as part of his penance; he would endure the sharp stabbing of guilt as Maggie endured the pain of her loss. So he forced himself to listen, teeth clenched together and stared blankly at the ceiling.

As the minutes dragged on, the noise in the house increased. He could hear the clatter of cans opening, and Judith fussing softly; he considered how lucky it was that the child was so quiet. But then maybe that was instinct. Who knew? But it was possibly the one thing that might allow her survival in this shit hole of a world.

Despite the ever-growing volume of noise, the comforting weight upon his chest didn't shift, her head nestled gently in the crook of his neck as her breaths caressed the skin at his collar. Closing his eyes, he turned his head to nuzzle the top of her head, his lips resting lightly against her forehead, just below her hairline. Her skin felt soft against his lips, and he inadvertently found himself sighing inaudibly, just a heavy breath from his nose.

A creak of floorboards outside the room caused his eyes to snap open, just in time to see Rick come to a halt in the doorway, pushing it slightly more open. His mouth had been open as if he was about to say something, but as his eyes fell upon Carol's still sleeping form, his lips fell closed and curled into a tired smile. Daryl lifted the hand of the arm not trapped under Carol, and held his fingers up splayed. Five minutes.

Rick understood, nodding once before stepping back out of the doorway, pulling it closed behind him.

He lowered his raised hand to rest upon her bicep where her arm curled tightly around his torso.

"Carol," he mumbled, just above a whisper, stroking her arm with his thumb.

She mumbled slightly at the sound of his voice, tightening her arm around him and nestling her face further into his neck.

"Carol, come on," he mumbled again, almost smiling at her reaction.

She moaned into his neck in annoyance, and he let out a snort before shaking her arm slightly.

"OK!" she moaned with feigned frustration.

Releasing her hold on him, she pushed herself up from his chest, wincing at the strain in her chest. He sat up with her, helping her the rest of the way up so she could swing her legs off the bed.

Climbing out the other side, he pulled on his shoes and his leather vest, before coming round to help her with her boots. As he fastened the straps, he watched her worriedly. Her eyes were screwed shut, her arm wrapped around her torso.

"You ok?" he asked as he finished, his hands coming to rest on her knees.

"I'm fine," she answered, opening her eyes and plastering on a strained smile that he saw straight through.

"Let's go get some breakfast," he said, getting to his feet and offering a hand.

She took it, and taking a deep breath forced herself forward.

Her legs couldn't take her weight, and Daryl felt her start to fall. On instinct, his arms shot out, catching her around the middle. She cried out in pain, doubling over as vicious coughs wracked her body, as he lowered her to her knees. The coughing continued as Daryl held onto her helplessly.

The door burst open, and Daryl whipped his head up to see Rick and Michonne stood in the doorway.

"Carol!" Rick exclaimed, rushing into the room and dropping to one knee beside her, "Michonne, get some water!" he called back.

Carol managed to hold a hand up, before choking out an "I'm fine."

Daryl rubbed her back gently as the coughs seemed to subside. Michonne appeared before them again, handing a water bottle to Rick. Unscrewing the cap, he passed it to Carol. Her hand shook as she lifted the bottle to her lips, and Daryl reached out to steady her, holding her wrist gently.

"What's that about?" Daryl asked, trying to mask the worry in his voice.

"It's fine," Carol said unevenly, still struggling for breath, "the pain caught me by surprise, that's all."

"We need to keep an eye on you," Rick said, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm fine," she said again, looking Rick straight in the eye as if daring him to carry on.

Rick nodded, though he was clearly unconvinced.

"Come on," Rick said, climbing to his feet. He reached down, taking one of her arms as Daryl took the other. Together, they gently lifted her to her feet, avoiding putting any more pressure on her ribs.

"Can you walk?" Daryl asked when she stood unsteadily, releasing Rick but holding Daryl's arms tightly.

She nodded, and he lifted one of her arms around his shoulders, helping her to walk as they followed Michonne and Rick out onto the landing and down the stairs.

When they reached the sofa, most of the group were in there passing around more canned food. Carol's legs seemed to give way beneath her, and Daryl had to lower her down gently. When she was seated, he crouched down before her and took one of her hands in his own, well aware that the rest of the group could see, but he didn't care; his only concern right now was the woman before him.

"Sure you're alright?" he asked.

"I'm sure," she replied, smiling past her obvious pain and squeezing his hand comfortingly. He squeezed it back before turning to grab a can of carrots from the crate, opening it and handing it to her before reaching for another.

Daryl sat at her feet as they ate, finishing his can in record time. He turned to see her struggling with hers, poking at the carrots with her fork but never lifting it to her mouth. Her eyes were almost glazed as she stared blankly into the can.

"Want some help?" he asked, snapping her out of her reverie.

"I'm not really hungry," she answered, throwing him an unconvincing smile.

"You ain't gonna get better if you don't get your strength up," he told her.

"Stop worrying," she chastised kindly.

"Can't help it," he mumbled, "keep gettin' yourself in trouble. You ain't outta it long enough for me to stop worryin'," he smirked.

She returned his smirk, before sighing and stabbing a carrot piece with her fork, raising it to her mouth and glaring at him pointedly as she chewed slowly. He smiled cheekily, and she nudged him with her knee.

As he had the night before, Rick stood in the middle of the room and cleared his throat to get everyone's attention.

"OK so I've been thinkin' about what our next move should be. I've been talking to Noah," Rick paused to nod at the young man who stood alone against a wall, "and he says he comes from another settlement, up in Virginia. I think our best chance is to check it out."

"How do we know it's not gonna be another Terminus?" Glen piped up from his space on the floor beside Maggie.

"My people aren't like that," Noah answered, as all eyes turned to him, "they're good people. Just like you guys."

"More people like us ain't a bad thing," Rick assured, "now Noah is headed that way regardless, right?" Rick asked.

Noah nodded mutely.

"Right. So I say we go with him, check it out. If it ain't right for us, we carry on to Washington."

"Washington's a dead end," Abraham spoke from where he stood by the window. Eugene stood beside him, looking at the floor.

"Wha' do you mean?" Rick asked, head whipping round to face the big man.

"Eugene lied. He ain't no scientist. There's no cure," Abraham answered stoically.

"You fuckin' what?" Daryl growled, launching to his feet despite Carol's attempts to pull him back. He started toward Eugene, fists clenched and teeth bared, when Abraham stepped before him, shielding the weaker man from Daryl.

"He's already taken a beatin' for it," Abraham told Daryl, meeting his angry stare with indifference.

Daryl breathed through his nose, his eyes falling on Eugene who still stared at his feet, refusing to make eye contact.

"Lying son'fabitch," Daryl snarled, before stepping back and pacing, eyes never leaving the timid man.

Rick dropped to a crouch, head in his hands as he gathered his thoughts while Daryl walked back and forth like a caged lion, and the seconds stretched on in silence before Eugene piped up.

"There may not be a cure there, but Washington's still our best bet. The infrastructure there…" he started.

"Shut your damn mouth!" Daryl growled, cutting Eugene off.

"No, he's right," Rick said, finally standing back up, "there's gotta be places in Washington better equipped for this kind'a thing. I say we stick to the plan: try Virginia, then Washington. Anyone disagree?"

He was met with silence, which he took as agreement.

"OK," Rick declared, "let's get packed up and get going."

* * *

><p>An hour later they were back on the road. Daryl watched Carol almost as much as he watched the road. She slept against the window most of the time, but periodically she woke to a coughing fit, before insisting time and time again that she was fine. He wanted to believe her, but life was never that kind to him, and he was finding it hard not to worry.<p>

They made slow progress. They encountered countless road blockages; abandoned vehicles, some of which they could shift out of the way and carry on. Other times they were met head on by small herds of walkers, forcing them to take detours when there were enough of them. They'd originally tried to take the I-85 North, but the number of cars blocking their path made it impossible.

Daryl reckoned they'd made it maybe two hundred miles as the crow flies from Atlanta as the sun started to set. The roads they'd taken took them through forests, and they hadn't seemed to have passed a building for miles. Rick pulled the fire truck to a stop, climbing out and walking towards the box truck where Daryl sat behind the wheel.

Daryl opened his door as Rick looked up at him.

"Ain't got much daylight left," Rick started, "can't risk looking for a house and getting caught out. I think we should set up camp in the trees."

"OK," Daryl nodded, climbing out of the truck.

"We'll leave the vehicles out here on the road, take everything with us," Rick instructed as Daryl went to open the hatch.

They made their way into the woods, Daryl, Rick and Michonne heading up the group to make sure there were no walkers. They came to a small clearing just a little way into the woods from the road. Daryl set to making a fire as the rest of the group huddled round, Tyreese helping Carol to sit against a tree.

"I'll go huntin' in the morning," Daryl said to Rick from where he crouched beside the fire, adding more wood.

"OK," Rick nodded. He was stood up beside the fire, rocking Judith gently.

Daryl looked around at the group. The sun had set, shrouding them in darkness, but he could make most of them out by the light of the fire. Everyone had settled down except those on watch. Daryl felt guilty that he wasn't taking a turn on watch tonight, but Rick had insisted that he get some sleep. He supposed he'd be up before sunrise anyway to hunt.

His eyes landed on Carol where she still sat against a wide tree. He could see she was shivering. Getting to his feet, he pulled two blankets he'd found in a closet at the house from his bag, and paced over to her, leaning against the tree and sliding down to sit against it beside Carol.

"Cold?" he asked her quietly.

"A little," she whispered, before shivering violently.

"C'mere," he mumbled, gesturing to the floor between his bent knees.

She got to her knees, and half shuffled, half crawled around him, sitting back between his legs and resting her back against his chest. He leaned forward, wrapping one blanket around his shoulders and threw the other over them both, before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her snugly to his chest. She rested her head back against his collarbone and sighed contentedly, though the shivering didn't stop.

He looked up at the sound of soft crying, and saw Maggie sat by the fire, hugging her knees with her head buried in her arms. Glenn sat some way behind her against a tree, looking on helplessly.

Daryl dropped his head back, looking up at the moon shining through the tree branches. Closing his eyes and mentally cutting off the sound of Maggie's sobbing in his ears, he let exhaustion overtake him. He fell into a dreamless sleep as he clutched the woman in his arms closer to fight away the cold.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Another wee chapter here. Procrastination is certainly getting the better of me :S**

**Thanks for all the reviews so far guys! I'm really sorry if I haven't had time to reply to each one individually, but please know I am so grateful you took the time to let me know your thoughts!**

The first thing she became aware of before she opened her eyes was the smell of smoke from their camp fire, hanging around her and clinging to her nose in the light breeze which cooled her face. Then she became aware of the solid warmth at her back, rising and falling gently, and the hot breaths against her ear. She felt his strong arms wrapped around her waist, both firm and gentle at the same time.

Without opening her eyes, she drew in a deep breath, taking in the scent that was so very him. Though her muscles and ribs ached mercilessly, and the pressure in her lungs was ever growing, she couldn't remember a time she was this content. And there was one simple reason for that. Daryl. She had never felt so cared for as she had in the past few days, and it was all down to him.

The change she could see in him, ever since she'd found him again after Terminus, was startling. She didn't know what is was, but it was like something had clicked in him. His touches were no longer scarce and timid, but were now almost constant and bold. He was all at once completely unrecognisable from the man she'd met at the quarry, who'd searched for her daughter at the farm and lashed out when they hadn't succeeded, and yet still completely _him_. To Carol, his transformation was beautiful, and she was so, so proud.

She thought back to the night before, when she'd awoken to him tossing and turning in the small bed beside her. The thin sheen of sweat on his crinkled forehead had glistened in the moonlight, and his eyes were screwed shut tight, his fists clenched tightly. His breathing had been short and shallow, his lips trembling and forming silent words.

She had whispered his name and placed her hand against his cheek, but he'd flinched from the touch. He had whimpered then, and she'd been reminded of the quiet sounds of absolute desperation he'd let out in that hospital corridor, stood over _her _body. She'd whispered his name again and again, before his eyes had snapped open and she saw the pure terror there as he stared mutely at the ceiling. When his eyes had met hers, he'd moved quicker than she'd ever seen him, throwing himself of the bed to his knees and retching.

She felt a pain deep inside her at the thought of him being that terrified. She dared not imagine what had elicited such a reaction from him, and she only wanted to comfort him as he had stood dejectedly by that window. She had lain upon his shoulder after that, falling asleep to the feel of his chest lifting and falling beneath her head, just as it did behind her now.

As a sharp pain sparked through her chest, she suddenly remembered her numerous coughing fits from the previous day. She knew something was wrong. Her lungs had grown tighter and tighter over the past two days, and every breath she took burned, like her lungs had been scratched raw.

She felt his hand move across her arm slowly until his fingers met hers. She responded, taking his hand softly to let him know she was awake.

"Mornin'," he mumbled against her ear, the vibration of his voice tickling her skin.

"Hey," she answered throatily, her lungs feeling ever tighter, opening her eyes to find it was still dark, though the sky had a slight brightness as it did in the hour before sunrise.

"How you feelin'?" he asked, nuzzling her ear with his nose.

"I'm OK," she answered, not sure how truthful she was being.

"I'm gonna go huntin'. Figure we could all use some meat. Sick to shit of that canned crap."

She laughed lightly once, stopping when it threatened to start another coughing fit. She looked around at the rest of the group. In the limited light, she could make out the bodies lying on the leaves littering the forest floor. Maggie sat beside the glowing embers of what remained of the fire, staring blankly, legs tucked up under her chin. Carol could see her shivering.

As if Daryl could sense her thoughts, he spoke softly in her ear.

"Gonna give her my blanket 'fore I go. You gonna be alright?"

"I'll be fine," she whispered, smiling and leaning forward painfully as he shifted out from behind her, getting to his feet with his blanket still around his shoulders.

She smiled up at him as he watched her settle back against the tree. He turned on his heel and approached Maggie, pulling the blanket from his back, crouching down close to her and holding it out. When she made no move to take it, or even look at him, he stood back up and reached out to place it around her shoulders.

She stood up suddenly, pushing him off violently as he stumbled back a step, the blanket falling to the floor behind her.

"Get your hands off'a me," she snarled, eyes wide and angrily boring into his.

"'M sorry," Daryl mumbled, starting to turn away before Maggie's arm shot out and took hold of his bicep roughly, pulling him back to face her.

Daryl met her gaze evenly, even as her eyes continued to burn into his. He tried to move away again, but she held fast.

"Somethin' you wanna say?" he asked calmly, the smallest hint of irritation in his tone.

Maggie's nostrils flared as her breath became angry and uneven.

"She should still be here," her voice low, hostile, "you should'a kept her safe. She should still be here."

"I know," Daryl replied quietly, chewing his lip.

"That all you gotta say?" she asked, her voice rising.

Carol watched as the other members of the group started rousing from sleep at the commotion.

"What you want me to say? Huh?" he asked, that irritation growing along with the volume of his voice, "Want me to say I'm a piece'a shit? That she's dead cause'a me?"

"Now you start actin' like you're all torn up. I've seen you the past two days, gettin' all cosy with Carol," Maggie shouted, waking the rest of the group completely, "couldn't protect Beth but you're more than happy to protect a _murderer_!"

Glenn stood quickly, grabbing Maggie's arm as she pushed against Daryl's chest, forcing him to stumble back. Carol stumbled to her feet, wincing at the onslaught of pain and taking time to regain some balance.

"That's enough," Rick's voice rang out.

"Do you even know what she did?" Maggie screeched at Daryl, "You know it was her who killed Karen and David back at the prison?"

Carol looked around at the shocked faces around her. Sasha's eyes were wide and disbelieving, as Tyreese stood beside her, looking at Carol sympathetically. She saw Carl's confused stare as he rocked a fussing Judith, Michonne beside him with a stoic frown.

"She did that to protect us," Daryl growled. Carol watched the tension ripple through his shoulders, like a wild animal, fiercely protective, "and anyway, I don't remember you bustin' your ass to find her! Was you who gave up when me and Carol was out lookin'!"

Maggie's face seemed to contort with inhuman rage as she launched herself out of Glenn's hold, throwing herself against Daryl and knocking him to the floor as his feet tangled in the discarded blanket. Carol watched in horror as Maggie slammed her fists down on his face, his chest, as Glenn and Rick struggled to pull her off.

"Stop!" she called out weakly, her lungs straining, "STOP!" she almost screamed, all eyes falling upon her.

She felt the air whoosh from her lungs as the coughs overtook her body. She vaguely registered the thump as she fell to her knees, rolling her body forward as she braced her hands against the hard forest floor.

She felt like she was suffocating. Cough after cough relentlessly shaking her body. She struggled in vain to pull air into her lungs as black spots appeared in her vision.

She heard a rustle to her side as Daryl barrelled to kneel beside her, and thought she could hear him calling her name, though it sounded distant and muffled to her ears.

She lifted her hand to her mouth as a particularly vicious cough coursed through her, and with blurred vision she could make out the deep, red stickiness of congealed blood on her fingers. Could taste the metallic tang on her tongue. And the next thing she knew, the floor was rising up to meet her, or was she falling down to meet _it_? The last thing she knew before darkness enveloped her was the weight of _his_ hand upon her back, and the sound of her name from his lips.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Knocked this one out in my short break between revision ending and sleep beginning. Enjoy!**

**Thanks again for reviews! Please continue to leave them, they are helping me get through the days right now!**

Daryl had never moved so fast in his life. He'd scrambled to his feet as soon as Maggie was pulled from his chest, launching himself to Carol's side. She was on her hands and knees, fingers clutching at the leaves and coughing so hard he thought her lungs would jump out of her chest.

He was crouched beside her in seconds, gripping her bicep with one hand, the other resting on her back.

"Carol!" his voice sounded panicked; he couldn't remember the last time he'd heard such a tone from himself.

Suddenly, her hand lifted from the ground to cover her mouth, and when she drew it away he felt as if he'd been shot straight through the gut, and all he could focus on was the crimson liquid coating her fingers.

Then she collapsed, her body crunching against the leaf-littered dirt beneath her, and he was sure that he'd follow her for a minute. But instead, his body froze as his family crowded round. He could hear Rick's voice, Sasha's, but the words made no sense in his head as all his senses zoned in on her still form.

Suddenly, arms closed around his chest and he was hauled to his feet and back away from her.

"No," he heard himself whisper.

His view of her was cut off as Rick stooped over her, and he suddenly snapped out of his reverie. He bolted forward, ripping himself free of the arms that held him back. He forced his way past Rick, to find that they'd managed to flip Carol over onto her back. He let out an almost whimper at the sight of her closed eyes and the two thin trails of blood, snaking from between her barely open lips and down her cheek and chin.

He fell to his knees again, reaching out and placing his hand on her cheek, just above where Sasha's fingers rested against her neck checking her pulse.

"She's alive," Sasha said, removing her hand.

Daryl pulled his eyes from her startlingly pale face to rest upon her chest. He watched as she heaved short, quick breaths in and out, accompanied by an almost inaudible rattling sound.

"What's wrong with her?" he heard Glen ask from somewhere behind Sasha.

"I don't know," she answered sombrely, "none of us have medical experience now, not after Bob…" she tailed off.

"Could be pneumonia," a voice spoke from outside the huddle that had formed around Carol. All eyes turned to Eugene, as he stood awkwardly, barely making eye contact with anyone, but continuing nonetheless, "or bronchitis. Hard to tell the difference with those two. Or could be a pneumothorax."

"A what?" Rick asked, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice.

"Pneumothorax. In layman's terms that's a punctured lung," Eugene answered.

"So what do we do?" Rick urged.

"Well if it's pneumonia or bronchitis, I'd say best the best course of action is antibiotics. Especially if it's pneumococcal. If it's viral, though, antibiotics won't make the slightest bit'a difference," he started, "as for the pneumothorax, well, no real way of knowin' if it's that without an X-ray machine, though judging by the evidence, I'd say it's the most likely answer."

Daryl's eyes clenched closed in a wince as he tried to make sense of Eugene's words. After a few seconds of silence passed, as the words were processed, Rick spoke.

"OK, well seems all we can do is get antibiotics and hope that works," he said.

"I found some amoxicillin in the house," Sasha said, standing and striding over to her backpack.

"My community had a doctor," Noah piped up, "if we can get her there, maybe she can help."

"Good, that's good," Rick replied, nodding as Sasha crouched back down beside Carol with an almost empty bottle of pills and a water bottle.

"Daryl, lift her head," Sasha instructed. He looked up at her blankly as if her words made no sense, "her head, Daryl."

Shaking his own head to clear the fog that had settled there, he turned his gaze back to Carol, placing his hand under her head and lifting it gently.

Sasha pulled her jaw down, pushing two pills past her lips. Unscrewing the water, she placed the rim against her bottom lip, tipping just a dribble of water into her mouth. Carol's swallow reflex kicked in, and the pills went down with a painful sounding gulp, followed by a weak cough.

Daryl lowered her head back to the floor, keeping his hand rested beneath her hair to cushion her from the ground.

"OK we should get moving. Everyone, get your stuff together. We're leaving in five," Rick announced, moving back towards the burned out fire, "we need to set up some blankets in the back of the truck."

Taking a deep breath, Daryl pushed his arm under Carol's shoulders, his other pressing under her knees. He pulled her to him as he stood from the floor, his muscles screaming out against the strain. In a daze, not looking at the body in his arms and instead focussing on an undefined spot in the distance, he started walking through the woods back toward the road where the trucks were parked. He saw Tyreese rush ahead of him, a pile of blankets in his arms.

Daryl stepped onto the road just as Tyreese pulled the shutter up on the back of the box truck, throwing the blankets down near one side and laying them out on top of one another. Daryl watched in silence, before Tyreese turned from inside the truck and beckoned him in, holding his arms out to take Carol.

Daryl stumbled back slightly, taken aback by the crippling fear he felt at the thought of letting her go, before coming to his senses and realising that he couldn't climb into the truck with her in his arms.

Swallowing hard, he approached the truck, and reluctantly passed Carol on to Tyreese, his hand lingering on her shoulder as she was pulled away from him. He climbed up beside Tyreese, just as the man lay Carol down gently on the blankets. Daryl considered for a moment how gentle he was for such a giant man. It was just another paradox in this insane world.

"Shame we don't got no pillows," Tyreese said softly, looking down at her almost admiringly.

"Oh, wait," Daryl mumbled, moving around past Tyreese to sit down against the wall of the truck at Carol's head, his legs spread straight in front of him. Tyreese lifted her head as Daryl shuffled closer, before letting it rest carefully on Daryl's thigh.

He looked down at her face again, seeing those blood trails from her mouth. Lifting himself slightly on one side, he pulled out the rag that hung from his back pocket, scrunching it up in his hand and ever so gently wiping the offending liquid from her skin. It had already started to dry, but it came off easily enough, leaving only a pale pink stain where it had once glistened red.

"She'll be alright," Tyreese spoke, resting his hand on Daryl's shoulder, "she's the toughest person I ever met."

Daryl didn't look up at the big man, instead dropping the rag on the floor beside him and bringing his hand up to rest against her neck, curling the impossibly soft tufts of hair there between his fingers.

People continued to move around outside the truck as they got packed up, but Daryl's eyes never left the woman in his lap. His gaze moved back and forth between the laboured rise and fall of her chest as she struggled for breath, and her closed eyelids, which seemed to flicker as her eyes danced around behind them. At some point, his hand had moved to her cheek, his thumb resting against her slightly parted lips. The feel of her breathing against the skin of his thumb calmed him somehow.

He felt someone else climb into the truck, but he couldn't pull his eyes from her to see whom it was. Nor could he hear their voices as his hearing focussed in completely on the rasping whooshes of air travelling in and out of her lungs.

As the truck started moving beneath him, he tried not to think about anything other than the fact she was still here, still alive. But the more he tried not to, the more his mind drifted to darker places. He felt the doubt creep up over his shoulders like icy fingers. Several times, he felt her breathing stop, just for a moment, but it was enough to feel like those icy fingers were closing around his neck, starving him of air.

It occurred to him that this wasn't the first time in the past few days that he'd felt this dread. How many times would this life threaten to take her from him? Was this it now? He'd been given so many chances, had his luck at last run out?

No. He couldn't let himself think like that; couldn't allow himself to break down in front of everyone. And anyway, what good would he be to her if he gave up on her now? A voice at the back of his mind told him he was no use to her right now either way, but he forced it back. One step at a time. Right now, she was alive. He had to cling onto that.

* * *

><p>The engine rumbled on beneath him as they pushed on. They'd been travelling most of the day, and Daryl suspected it wasn't long until nightfall. They had stopped a dozen or so times for bathroom breaks, to siphon gas from abandoned vehicles and to clear debris from the road, and with each break Daryl found himself growing more and more restless. Though Carol hadn't gotten any worse, she also hadn't awoken.<p>

Sasha had helped him give Carol another dose of the antibiotics as Tyreese looked on helplessly.

"We gotta be nearly there," Tyreese said, breaking the silence that had enveloped them for most of the journey, "Last time we stopped, Noah said it was only another 60 miles."

Suddenly, they all felt the engine cut beneath them as they came to a stop. Seconds later, the shutter was opened and Glenn stood before them.

"Fire truck has a flat and no spare. We're gonna have to get everyone in here," Glenn said, looking at Daryl apologetically.

Daryl didn't even acknowledge the words spoken to him, which Glenn took to mean no arguments from him. He didn't move other than to pull Carol just a little closer as person after person climbed up beside him. They all fit in, but it was tight, and Daryl ended up shoulder to shoulder with Eugene, who flinched away when Daryl rolled his head up to glare.

"We'll be there in couple hours," Rick announced as he reached to pull the shutter closed, "just hang tight."

The shutter clanged shut, and they fell into semi-darkness again, only this time it felt stuffier, claustrophobic. Carol would hate that, he found himself thinking.

He chanced a glance up. Everyone was there except Rick, Carl, Judith and Noah, who must all have been in the front. Sat directly opposite him was Maggie. He looked at her tiredly, not even finding the energy in him to glare, but her gaze remained on her bent knees. He couldn't even find it in him to be angry with her. He just wanted to get to this stupid place and find this doctor; he knew somehow that Carol's life depended on it.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hey folks! I'm so sorry for the stupid delay in posting this story. I've been right in the thick of my final year exams for the past 2 weeks and I've had no time to breathe, never mind write!**

**This in mind, my last exam was this morning, and after a good, strong pint of Guinness (or 4) down the pub at lunchtime, I've managed to knock out this wee chapter.**

**Sorry it's only short, but I wanted to get something to you today since I've taken so long and left it on a bit of a cliffhanger…my bad!**

**I'm aiming to finish this fic before the midseason premiere next weekend, and I'm predicting there will maybe be another 3 chapters or so, which means you're likely to get a new chapter every 3-4 days ongoing. Thanks for sticking with me if you have, and Caryl on!**

Chapter 8

"Wiltshire Estates," Michonne read aloud from the black, iron letters formed across the top of the wide metal gates, "looks deserted."

This was it. This was Noah's settlement just inside Richmond, Virginia. Only it had become apparent as the group had clambered out of the truck and approached, weapons raised, that there had been nobody inside those walls in a long time. The place was eerily silent.

"No, this ain't right," Noah answered, limping forward hurriedly to place his hands around the cold bars, "they should be here."

His grip tightened, knuckles paling as his head fell forward to the cool metal dejectedly.

"Maybe they're just hiding," Tara said, stepping forward to place a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"No," he replied quietly, "they're gone."

Daryl chose that moment to appear from behind the truck, Carol's limp body once again cradled in his arms.

"What d'ya mean, they're gone?" he snarled, concealing his fear at those words behind quiet, tightly coiled anger.

Noah turned around slowly at the sound of Daryl's voice and looked him straight in the eye.

"They must've left. I'm sorry, man," Noah answered, shaking his head as his eyes fell to the floor.

"Gone where?" Daryl growled.

"I don't…"

"You said there'd be a doctor here!" his voice grew louder. "Now we're wastin' time that she ain't got, so you'd better start thinkin' where they might'a gone."

"I don't know," Noah shook his head, eyes wide and startled, "there's nowhere…I don't…"

"It's OK, Noah," Rick interrupted, turning to Daryl and approaching him slowly. Rick stood face to face with the man he'd come to think of as his brother, reaching a hand out to rest on his shoulder despite the glare in Daryl's eyes.

"Daryl, it's not his fault. It's almost dark. This place looks like it was locked up pretty tight. What d'ya say, we stay here tonight, rest up and see if they left any clues as to where they were headed?" Rick implored.

Daryl's eyes fell in defeat, before he nodded once, his hold on Carol tightening just the smallest amount.

"Ok," Rick said, turning to face the others, "Michonne, Abraham and Rosita with me. We'll head in first, scout a couple houses. Won't have time to check 'em all before dark so we'll go for ones close to the gates so we can get out quick if we've missed anything."

The gates were held shut by a solid chain and combination padlock. Noah stepped forward, praying that the combination hadn't changed since he'd left a year ago. With a satisfying click, the padlock opened and the heavy chain snaked its way from around the bars, pooling onto the concrete with a clang.

Rick smiled, reaching out and clapping the young man on the back, before gesturing his troops to follow him. The rest of the group waited nervously in silence, on edge and listening for any sounds of approaching walkers. Night had well and truly fallen by the time Rick and his scouts returned from their mission.

"OK, we've emptied out two houses right next to each other," Rick gestured behind him at the two houses closest to the gates where they stood, "Should be enough room for all of us to fit in the two."

The group filed in through the gates as Rick stood by and held them open. Daryl nodded his thanks to Rick, which was returned with an upturn of Rick's mouth. Before long, Daryl had settled Carol on a double bed in the upstairs of one of the houses. They were modest homes, with only two bedrooms each, but they were all used to sleeping on the floor by now, and even laying on carpet instead of dirt felt like a luxury.

Once Daryl had her comfortably tucked under the sheets, he sat himself on the other side of the bed, his head falling into his hands, elbows resting on his thighs. He was exhausted. So much had happened in the past few days and he'd had no time to really process it, his worry for the fragile woman behind him a constant cloud over his senses.

He realised he'd barely thought about Beth through all this, and was overcome with a wave of guilt. They'd lost her just days ago and she'd barely crossed his mind since Carol collapsed on the floor of the forest. But that was life now, he supposed; it didn't allow you to stop and mourn. Always moving. Always running. At least Beth was free of that now. A kid like her, so full of hope, deserved better than to live in this shit hole of a world. He didn't believe in heaven, but even nothingness had to be better than this place. But if that was true, then why did he keep on fighting? Anything had to be better than here.

He was startled from that trail of thought as he heard a ragged intake of breath from behind him, followed by a cough. He jumped up from the bed, spinning round and launching himself onto the bed beside her on his knees.

"Carol?" he whispered as her eyes flickered open.

Her eyelids were heavy, and she seemed to be struggling to focus, but there she was, looking up at him in confusion.

"Hey," he whispered, smiling slightly, "how you doin'?"

She tried to answer, but it came out as a weak cough as her eyes squinted shut. His hand came to rest on her forearm comfortingly as her breaths rattled in and out of her chest, short and sharp as if she couldn't get enough air in.

"It's ok," he mumbled, "don't try to talk."

He reached for a water bottle from his bag on the end of the bed, unscrewed the cap and helped her to take a sip. She winced and coughed as the liquid went down, before pushing his hand away weakly. He took a swig from the bottle himself, before throwing it back down on the bed.

His fingers slid down her forearm, coming to rest against her hand. She wove her fingers around his, and he could feel the weakness in her grip. Her eyes remained closed as she struggled to control her breathing, but he knew she was still awake. For the first time in his life, he felt compelled to just talk, to somehow comfort her with words, but he didn't know where to start; he never was good with words.

"You're gon' be ok," he said, swallowing hard and clutching her hand tighter as he struggled to find the right words, or any words for that matter, "whatever this is, you're stronger than it. You gotten through worse'n this."

He watched as her brow furrowed, almost as if she was arguing back.

"We're survivors, you an' me," he told her gently, "Beth said, she reckoned I'd be the last man standin', but you're stronger than I am."

She shook her head faintly. He chuckled quietly at that.

"You are," he affirmed, "I saw it, even back at the quarry."

Her eyes cracked open slightly, the tired blue of her irises dazzling him even when they were cloaked in a layer of unfocussed fog. He took it as her urging him to elaborate.

"I remember this one time, right back 'fore I even knew your name. It was early mornin' and you stepped out your tent, big purple bruise round your neck. The second you saw me lookin' at ya, it's like you puffed your chest right out. You stared right at me, glarin' at me like you was daring me to say somethin'. And I could see it, then; that strength."

He hadn't realised his gaze had slipped upwards and he was staring at the far wall, lost in the memory of her steely gaze in the morning sunlight. She squeezed his hand lightly, and his eyes quickly dropped down to hers, where he was met with that same gaze, only darkened by the night.

"Merle made some shitty comment later 'bout you bein' a mouse. Even then I told him you weren't like that; that I reckoned there was more to you than that," he said, his eyes not leaving hers. She smiled ever so slightly at the words, blinking heavily as if struggling to keep her eyes open.

"'Course, Merle called me a pansy ass and smacked me upside the head," Daryl snorted, and felt himself grin as her smile grew wider, her eyes falling closed.

"Point is," he continued, "we both know you've survived worse than this."

He watched as the smile melted from her lips, and her grip loosened on his hand as she fell back into unconsciousness. He sighed heavily, lifting her hand up and nuzzling his forehead against her knuckles.

A sound in the doorway made him slowly lower her hand and raise his eyes. Rick stood awkwardly on the threshold, a sickeningly sympathetic look in his eye as he watched the exchange.

"How long you been there?" Daryl asked, pushing himself back off the bed to stand.

"Long enough," Rick answered as Daryl turned his gaze back to Carol, "you're right, she's strong. She'll be ok."

Daryl nodded, before looking back up to meet Rick's eyes.

"Need me to do anythin'?" Daryl asked.

"Nah, we're good. Got Ty and Noah on watch. Just get some rest," Rick smiled encouragingly as Daryl nodded again, before turning on his heel and leaving Daryl and Carol alone again.

Daryl sighed heavily, feeling that exhaustion overtake him again. He crawled back onto the bed beside Carol, laying down on his side facing her and taking her hand in his own, tucking it up under his chin. He felt his eyes slide shut of their own accord, as he silently prayed to a God he had never believed in that this would all be over soon.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I'm very drunk right now! Luckily, I wrote this chapter before I went to the pub, so it should make sense…hopefully!**

**Not really got anything to say, other than less than a week until the walking dead is back! Woo! In the meantime…enjoy! And please leave a review! They make me super happy!**

Chapter 9

Daryl danced on the edge of consciousness, in that strange in-between place where you were completely aware of your surroundings, but at the same time totally distant from your own body. Carol's laboured breathing seemed to resonate through him, rattling around and bouncing off the inside edges of his skull, like an echo in a cave. It was at once comforting and disconcerting; it told him she was still here with him, but was a painful reminder of the continuing battle she fought.

He could feel her warmth too. Through his closed eyelids it was like he could actually see the heat coming from her, an iridescent glow upon his face. It was like the feeling of closing your eyes to the sun, and just bathing in it, bright and warm. The barely conscious part of his brain considered how apt that image was; she always had been that bit of light in his life, ever since the world went to shit.

Exhaustion washed over him, crushing him down on the soft mattress. He wanted so badly to just fall asleep, but something seemed to hold him on the edge of consciousness. He supposed it was a survival tactic; one that he had picked up long before all this, way back when he was a kid. Sometimes it was safer to stay aware of your surroundings, even when sleeping. Yes, he'd learned that the hard way. Even so, it was probably a skill that had helped him stay alive this long. Silver linings, or whatever other bullshit you wanted to call it.

His trail of thought was interrupted by a strange ringing in his ears, and it took him more than a few seconds to realise it wasn't in his head. As the thought solidified in his brain, so did his consciousness, and the ringing became more of a high-pitched whining sound. His eyes snapped open as the sound sparked recognition. He'd heard this sound many times before, back before the turn. It was unmistakeably a house alarm. He and Merle had set off a fair few of those in their time.

_Shit._ It was loud. _Really_ loud. It'd be drawing walkers in from all over.

He bolted out of the bed and to his feet, snatching his crossbow up from its place against the wall and heading out onto the landing. Rick appeared from the living room looking just as startled, his eyes snapping up to meet Daryl's, before he headed to the back door, Daryl hot on his heels.

Rick threw the door open, and the sound seemed to increase in intensity. They could see the house the noise was coming from at the end of the street, maybe fifty metres or so away. Noah was sprinting toward them, his bad leg slowing him down, but that wasn't where their attention fell. Just feet behind him, a few dozen walkers ambled after him, the promise of fresh meat far more appealing than the blaring siren behind them.

Tyreese appeared at the back door of the neighbouring house where half of the group had bedded down, his eyes wide as they fell upon the scene before him. Rick leaned back into their house.

"Carl! Get Judith and get everyone out! Get to the truck!" Rick hollered, before turning to Daryl, "We need to try and hold them back, buy some time."

Daryl nodded, lifting his crossbow ready.

"Ty!" Daryl called over his shoulder to the big man, "Carol's upstairs, get her to the truck!"

Tyreese nodded, running straight for the house as Daryl and Rick advanced on the walkers, as Noah bolted past them to safety.

One of Daryl's bolts thudded through the skull of a female walker at the front of the pack, and Rick's knife thunked into another.

As Daryl bent to reload his crossbow, his eyes caught sight of more movement, just as more walkers appeared from between houses all down the street, just metres from them. And they kept coming. Within seconds, close to a hundred walkers, by Daryl's estimate, were advancing on them.

Before he had time to think, the dead were on top of them, cutting them off from the house and forcing them to retreat down the street as the walkers swarmed the back of the houses.

"There's too many!" Rick shouted as they ran.

Daryl darted off to his right, jumping the fence between the two houses they'd been staying in and circling to the front of the buildings. The walkers crushed themselves into the fence behind him, and Daryl knew it wouldn't be long before they levelled it and cut off access to the front doors.

He sprinted to the front of the house, knowing Tyreese and Carol would still be inside. He wrenched open the front door, ready to charge in and find them, but the walkers chose that moment to burst in through the back door, swarming the hallway and forcing him to slam the door shut.

He stepped back, the hand not holding his crossbow lifting up to pull at his hair in frustration. He turned around to see the rest of the group either running for the gates or clambering into the truck, but no sign of Tyreese and Carol.

Rick appeared at his side, breathing heavily from exertion.

"We gotta go," Rick said, grabbing Daryl's shoulder when he didn't move and turned back to face the house, "What's wrong?"

"Tyreese and Carol are still in there," Daryl grunted, eyes flickering between the windows upstairs for any sign of his friends.

* * *

><p>Tyreese ran in through the back door. He had to get Carol out.<p>

He passed Carl, who was carrying Judith, as he ran out the front door and toward the main gates, closely followed by Tara and Sasha.

Sasha turned to Tyreese, grabbing his hand.

"What's going on?" she asked him worriedly.

"Walkers got in," he answered, squeezing her hand quickly before releasing her and running for the stairs, "Get to the truck!" he called over his shoulder.

He ran up the staircase, taking two steps at a time, and burst into Carol's room. Her head turned to face him, her eyes struggling to focus. She saw the panic in his eyes and fought to rasp out words.

"What's going on?" she asked, her voice hoarse and breathless, "Where's Daryl?"

"He's ok," Tyreese answered, leaning down to scoop her up as she winced against the strain, "We gotta go. Walkers got in."

Carol struggled to hold onto Tyreese but found she had no strength, so she relaxed in his arms as he headed for the stairs.

They made it two steps down when the back door collapsed inwards with a crash, followed by the gut-wrenching, guttural snarls as body after body piled sloppily through the door, filling the hallway before Tyreese even had time to turn.

The walkers spotted their food source, and quickly started climbing the stairs, cold, dead hands grasping at the air in front of them.

"Oh, shit!" Tyreese grunted, stepping back onto the landing and pushing back into the room he'd found Carol in, depositing her as carefully as he could, before whipping back around and slamming the door shut just as the first walker reached the top of the stairs.

Stepping back, he could already see the door bowing against the weight of the bodies pushing against it. It wouldn't hold for long. Tyreese rushed to the window, sliding it up and open.

They were high up, looking out over the empty, concrete driveway. It would be a hard landing. How could he get Carol out without hurting her more?

He looked down and saw Daryl standing by the front door, staring forward with a look somewhere in between panic and despair, and knew he'd never seen anyone look so desperate before. He had to get Carol out. He had to.

He turned to see Carol watching him from the bed.

"You should leave me," she rasped, "I can't climb out there, I can't even stand."

"I ain't leaving you," Tyreese answered, shaking his head and coming to stand beside the bed.

"Please," she whispered, "I can't have anyone else die because of me."

"I owe you everything," he answered softly, taking her hand, "I wouldn't'a made it this far without you. So I'm gon' do everything I can to get you out of here."

"You don't owe me anything," she answered, finding it harder and harder to breathe, "I'm dying anyway, I can feel it. Just leave me."

Tyreese frowned at her for a moment. She was so close to giving up, he could see it. She had been his rock after the prison fell; he'd never known someone to be so strong. He knew that even if they both survived this, he wouldn't last long in this world. He wasn't built for how things were now. But she would survive. He had to give her that chance, no matter what. He couldn't leave her, not after everything.

"No," he said sternly, reaching down to scoop her up again.

She tried to fight him, but her strength failed her, and she suddenly found herself halfway out the window in his arms, as the door started to splinter behind them.

* * *

><p>Daryl felt his chest tighten in panic. What could he do? He was completely trapped, just as much as Tyreese and Carol were. He couldn't leave without her; he wouldn't. There was nothing without her.<p>

"Daryl, look," Rick grunted, pointing up to the first floor window as a pair of hands slid it up.

"Ty?" Daryl shouted up, running over to stand under the window, "Ty?"

There was no reply, but the window remained open. Daryl felt Rick at his shoulder again.

"She won't be able to jump," Daryl said, panic dripping from every word, "he'll have to jump with her."

"It's high," Rick answered, "if he lands badly…" he trailed off.

"He won't leave her," Daryl snapped, turning to Rick, "He can't."

Rick had never seen Daryl like this before. His eyes were so wide, so fearful, so feral. He could almost taste the adrenaline in the air around him.

"He won't," Rick affirmed, resting his hand on Daryl's shoulder in a feeble attempt to offer comfort.

"Daryl!" Tyreese's voice rang out clear from the window.

Daryl whipped his head back around at the sound, taking a step forward. The man was halfway out the window, Carol held tightly in his arms.

"Ty!" Rick shouted up, "be careful!"

"Be ready to run!" Tyreese called down, pushing himself out fully so he was sat on the window ledge, legs dangling down over the drop.

A crash from the side of the house alerted them to the presence of more walkers as they broke down the fence between the buildings. The snarls got louder as they got closer. Tyreese caught sight of the first walker appearing round the corner, and realised he'd run out of time. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself forward off the ledge, just as the bedroom door behind him burst into splinters.

Daryl watched, mouth agape, as Tyreese fell, holding Carol to him protectively. He watched almost in slow motion as Tyreese's feet landed hard on the concrete. He heard the crack as the big man's left leg buckled and crunched beneath him. He watched as Tyreese's body rolled back under his weight, until the back of his head thudded against the ground and he lay there motionless. And all that time, his hold on Carol never faltered, as he cushioned her fall against his chest.

Daryl and Rick scrambled forward, Daryl pulling Carol out of Tyreese's arms and checking her over. She looked up at him, struggling to focus as his hand fell upon her cheek.

"You're ok," he whispered, sighing in relief.

"Ty! Ty!" Rick was shouting, shaking the big man's shoulders.

Tyreese was alive, but seemingly unconscious, his left leg curled underneath him brokenly.

"Rick, take her," Daryl grunted firmly, passing Carol carefully into Rick's arms, "Go!" he shouted.

Rick threw one last look at Tyreese, before standing with Carol cradled to his chest, and running back toward the truck.

"Ty! Come on, man! Wake up!" Daryl shouted, shaking Tyreese's shoulders.

If the big man could just stand up, Daryl could help him get to the truck. His right leg was fine, if he would just wake up.

"Ty!" Daryl shouted louder, desperately, as he heard the shuffling of walkers closing in on him, "Please," he whispered.

Tyreese didn't stir, and their time had run out. Daryl couldn't carry the man. The walkers were seconds from reaching them.

"I'm sorry," Daryl whispered, getting to his feet and pulling his pistol from his hip.

He pointed the pistol at Tyreese's head. He didn't want to do this. He couldn't accept that they'd lost someone else. But the dead were closing in. He had to. With a deep breath, he steeled himself, locking away the overwhelming emotions, and he pulled the trigger.

"Daryl!" he heard Rick shout from behind him, just as the first walker gripped his arm.

He stumbled back slightly as teeth gnashed in front of his face, before he freed his pistol, lodging a bullet in the walking dead man's skull.

The body crumpled at his feet, but others followed, a sea of clawed, cold hands gripping for him. He managed to shrug them off, turning on his heel and running for the truck.

The others were all in, ready to go, the engine rumbling. He ran and ran, putting just enough distance between himself and the shambling bodies on his tail to leap onto the truck bed as it started to pull away.

He was caught by Rick and Glenn, who pulled him firmly into the truck as he fell to his knees on the metal floor, surrounded by the terrified faces of his family.

He was keenly aware of Sasha's wailing screams as she fought against Michonne and Maggie, who held her back against the side of the truck.

He crumpled over his knees, head to the floor as he fought to block out the sound. Not again. This constant cycle of losing people. He couldn't breathe properly as the truck rumbled on away from the gates of Wiltshire Estates. He was heaving in gulps of air, clutching at the dirty floor beneath him.

He suddenly felt a soft hand grip his, and he lifted his head, his eyes meeting Carol's tired ones as she weakly tried to grip his fingers. The tears flowed from her unfocused eyes, and he clutched at her hand, his eyes boring into hers.

She blinked several times before her eyes slid shut, and he brought her knuckles up to his lips, before releasing her hand and forcing himself up, sitting back against the wall. He looked out the open back of the truck. Wiltshire was out of sight now, and all that lay behind them was empty road. But in his mind's eye, Daryl watched as the walkers descended on Tyreese's still body, tearing into his flesh, and he closed his eyes to block it out.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Only got one more chapter planned after this one, and as yet I'm not completely sure what I want to happen in it. Could go one of two ways! I like this power mwahahaa!**

**Anyways, enjoy this one, and please leave a review if you feel so inclined :)**

Chapter 10

"She's barely breathing," Rick said as he hovered, crouched over Carol as Daryl tried to hold her chin up to keep her airways open.

"What the fuck do we do?" Daryl barked.

The tension and stress in the truck was palpable and all consuming as Michonne fought to calm Sasha, whose wails hadn't ceased since the truck had sped away from those harrowing gates, little over an hour ago.

"Eugene, any ideas?" Rick asked, turning his gaze on the man who'd remained mostly silent since the previous day. He looked startled to have been called upon, seemingly having gotten used to being practically invisible.

"Um, I'm not sure," he started, trying to focus on the problem at hand, "I guess if she's struggling to breathe, if we can somehow procure some oxygen tanks it might keep her going a little while longer. But without a doctor, her chances are…"

"OK, so we need to find a hospital," Rick interrupted, not allowing Eugene to finish that thought for fear of Daryl losing his temper.

He stood suddenly, banging on the back of the truck cab. They rolled to a stop, and Abraham appeared around the back of the open truck.

"What's the plan?" Abraham asked, taking in the scene before him with stoic eyes.

"We need to find a hospital, or a medical centre," Rick said, "anywhere that might have oxygen tanks."

"You got it. I'll keep an eye out and get Rosita to check if there's any on the map," Abraham answered.

"Thank you," Rick nodded, before turning his attention back to Carol, as Abraham brought the shutters down on the truck.

The minutes felt like hours to Daryl, as he counted every breath Carol drew in. Her whole body was shaking with the effort, and she looked physically drained, her face pale and her lips glowing with a startlingly bluish tinge.

He clutched her hand helplessly, deaf to all the noise around him, his eyes never leaving her face. In his head he repeatedly told himself, and her, that she'd be all right, but the words never formed on his lips.

For Daryl, it could've been days later when the truck finally rolled to a stop again, but it was probably more like a couple of hours. The shutter was lifted and the early morning sunlight burst in, temporarily blinding the occupants who had grown accustomed to the darkness.

"We got somewhere," Abraham told them, as Rick jumped to his feet from his spot against the wall beside Carol's head, just across from Daryl.

"Where are we?" Rick asked as he clambered past the other group members.

"Alexandria, Virginia," he replied.

Rick's feet landed on the concrete, and he scanned the area around him. Several cars lay abandoned in the parking lot, but there were no signs of walkers or humans. The hospital stood several stories above them, and he could see the evidence, in silhouette form, of the dead roaming past some of the windows. However, parts of the place looked empty, from what Rick could see.

His eyes fell back upon Carol's ever-weakening body, and Daryl's dejected form sitting beside her, clutching her hand like a lifeline.

"It's our only shot," Rick said, his eyes scanning over the other passengers, "OK, Glenn, you're coming in with me. The fewer of us, the quieter we'll be."

Glenn pushed himself up from his spot, armed with a crowbar from a toolkit they'd found back at Wiltshire. He jumped down beside Rick. Daryl's eyes shot up to meet his.

"I should come too," Daryl grunted.

Rick climbed back into the truck, kneeling down at Daryl's side and placing a hand on the man's shoulder.

"Naw man, she needs you here with her," he said as Daryl opened his mouth to argue, "Besides, I can see your head ain't clear right now. Can't have you goin' in there like this, puttin' yourself in danger."

Daryl huffed, but knew Rick was right. His head wasn't in the right place to focus on the task, and though he couldn't give a shit about endangering himself, he wouldn't put Rick and Glenn at risk. So he nodded, as Rick patted him on the shoulder and threw him a humourless half smile.

"We'll be quick as we can. Hang tight," Rick said, before turning his back on Daryl and climbing back onto the concrete.

A second pair of feet landing just behind him caused him to whip around, coming face-to-face with Noah.

"I'm coming too," Noah said, standing straight and squaring his shoulder in feigned confidence.

"No, you'll slow us down," Rick said, turning his back on the boy.

"I won't, I know this place," Noah answered, catching the sheriff's attention, "my Grandpa was treated here just before the turn. I used to visit him on weekends."

Rick considered Noah's argument, before shaking his head.

"No, it's too dangerous for you to go in there. You just tell us where our best bet of finding…"

"Please," Noah interrupted, "It…It's my fault what happened back there. I just went to look at my Grandpa's house. I forgot the alarm would be set. What happened to Tyreese…" he trailed off, feeling tears sting the back of his eyes.

"Don't blame yourself," Rick said, resting his hand on Noah's shoulder, "it was an accident, right?"

Noah met Rick's eyes, nodding but seemingly unconvinced.

"So forget it, OK?" Rick said, "Blaming yourself won't change it."

"But I can help," Noah implored, "Please, I need to."

Rick sighed, dropping his head to the ground, before lifting it up and nodding at Noah.

"OK," he answered, "but you stay behind me."

* * *

><p>There were surprisingly few walkers in the hospital corridors, and they managed to sneak through fairly easily, following signs for the surgical department. The original plan had been to gain access to a storeroom near the oncology department where Noah's Grandpa had been treated, but a large number of the dead behind one of the doors had blocked their access. So far, their plan B was looking more promising.<p>

They crept down a hallway with various surgery rooms leading off on either side, when Glenn stopped and pointed ahead.

The sign on one door said "Surgical Stores". It had an electronic lock with swipe card access.

Glenn stepped forward with the crowbar, cracking open the door as the wood shattered around the lock.

The room was lined with shelves full of all sorts of medical equipment that Rick could barely fathom a use for. Noah darted for the back wall, snatching up a sealed bag containing an oxygen mask and tubing. Glenn crouched down by another shelf, pulling two metal canisters from the rack.

"Anything else we can use?" Rick asked in a whisper.

"Not without medical expertise," Glenn answered.

"OK, then let's get outta here," Rick said, turning on his heel and heading out of the room.

They made it safely down the corridor and into the stairwell, going down two flights of stairs, before Rick stopped suddenly, gesturing at his partners to do the same with a finger to his lips.

There were hushed voices on the other side of one of the doors, and quickly approaching footsteps. There was no time to run. Rick and Glenn pulled their guns from their hips, just in time to see the door burst open.

Daryl didn't look up from Carol's face as he felt someone sit down softly beside him. He couldn't tell who it was without looking up, but his head felt too heavy to lift.

"I'm sorry," the person said weakly. Maggie. The last person he expected to come and sit beside him. He looked up to meet her eyes in shock.

Her eyes were red rimmed with exhaustion and too many tears shed.

"Don't be," Daryl said tiredly, looking away from her.

"I didn't mean what I said," she continued, "I was just so angry."

"It's OK," he answered, "'M sorry for what I said, too."

"No, you were right. I shouldn't have given up on her so quickly. I think I was just scared," Maggie spoke wistfully.

"Scared'a what?" he asked.

"That I'd find her dead," she answered, her eyes falling to her lap. "At least if I didn't know where she was, I could believe she was still alive. It was stupid. Selfish."

She paused for a moment in thought.

"I was wrong 'bout Carol," she continued, "I understand why she did what she did. With everything at Terminus, and you guys lookin' for Bethy…well, I owe her everything."

"We all do," Daryl mumbled, stroking his thumb across Carol's knuckles.

"She'll be all right," Maggie told him gently.

Daryl didn't answer, not trusting his voice. He just hoped she was right, but as Carol seemed to get weaker and weaker, he felt the doubt creep into his mind and spread its tendrils down across his heart.

He felt Maggie's head fall gently against his shoulder, and he flinched slightly, though she didn't lift it back up. After a minute he forced himself to relax and just accept it as the comfort it was intended to be.

* * *

><p>"Who are you?" the man at the front asked, his gun raised upon the trio.<p>

He was a young man, perhaps in his late twenties, with short, well-kempt, blond hair. He was flanked on either side by two more men. To his left stood a tall African-American man with long, curly hair tied back and thick-rimmed glasses on his nose. On his other side was a smaller, stocky man with a bald head. All three had their guns resting on Rick and Glenn, as Noah stood unarmed behind them.

"Could ask you the same thing," Rick answered carefully.

"We're here gathering medical supplies. We don't want any trouble," the blond man said confidently.

"Same here," Rick answered.

"You guys got a camp nearby?" the blond asked.

"Just passin' through," Rick answered, "there's more of us outside."

Rick eyed the men carefully. They didn't look dangerous, but he knew that counted for nothing. If they were planning on trying anything, maybe the knowledge that there was a larger group of people waiting outside would make them think twice.

"We have a settlement nearby," the man spoke, "we're always happy to take in new people."

"Why should we trust you?" Rick asked, never lowering his gun.

"Not all people are bad," the man answered, "and judging by the stuff you're carrying, you've got someone in need of oxygen."

Rick's jaw tightened but his eyes never left the blond man.

"We have a doctor in our town," the man continued, "if you need medical aid, we can help you."

"How many people in your settlement?" Rick asked, still not trusting the man.

"Not sure exactly. Last count over a hundred," the man replied.

Glenn gasped audibly.

"Impossible," Rick answered, "you're lying."

"No," the man answered, "I'm not. We started off at around fifty people. Took in a group of around thirty from Richmond around six months ago. Other smaller groups, too."

"Did you say, Richmond?" Noah asked, stepping out beside Rick.

"Marcus?" the blond man asked, his eyes wide as saucers as they fell upon Noah, his gun lowering to his side.

"You know Marcus?" Noah asked breathlessly, pushing toward the man past Rick.

"Wait, you're his brother aren't you," the man asked, "You're Noah."

"You know my family? They're with you?" Noah asked, barely containing his emotions.

"Yeah, they're with us," the man nodded, disbelief plain across his face, "They thought you were dead."

"Are they OK?" he asked.

"They're fine. They're good," the blond man answered, "they're not going to believe this."

"Wait, Noah," Rick interrupted, pulling him back by his arm.

"My family are there," Noah implored, turning back to Rick.

"They are," the blond man continued, "And our doctor is from Richmond, too. Her name is Denise."

"She was in my group, too," Noah begged Rick, "it's them. We have to go, it's Carol's only shot, and I have to find my family."

"How do we know we can trust you?" Rick asked, glaring at the men before him.

"There's no way you can know," the leader shook his head, not breaking eye contact with Rick, "it's up to you whether you come with us. But from what Noah here says, it sounds like it's your only chance to save your friend."

"He's right, Rick," Glenn said, lowering his gun, "we have to try. We owe it to Carol."

Rick turned to look at Glenn, lowering his weapon. Glenn held his gaze, staring back confidently. Rick seemed to consider him for a moment, before sighing deeply.

"OK, we'll go with you," Rick said without enthusiasm, "the rest of our group are down in the parking lot."

"OK," the blond man nodded, smiling, "I'm Aaron, this is Heath," he said gesturing to the dark-skinned man with curly hair, "And this is Scott," he said, pointing to the bald man.

"Rick," the former sheriff answered, holstering his gun, "this is Glenn and Noah."

"Pleasure," Aaron said, "Now let's get out of here before the dead'uns come after us."

* * *

><p>"She ain't breathin'!" Daryl barked, tapping Carol's face lightly as her eyes rolled back into her head.<p>

He felt the panic grip hold of his heart as she went from sucking in rattling breaths to lying completely still.

Maggie's hand lifted up to Carol's neck.

"I can't find her pulse," Maggie said.

"No, don't do this now," he begged her, holding her head between his hands as if he could somehow convince her to take a breath.

"We're gonna have to do CPR," Maggie told him.

"I've never done that, I don't know how," Daryl told her, looking up at her imploringly. She'd never seen him look so scared.

"Move back," Maggie instructed, and he leapt back and out of her way.

He watched helplessly as Maggie tilted Carol's head back, and blew two breaths into the unconscious woman's lungs, before pushing down on her chest over and over again.

He skimmed his eyes over the other group members in the truck, as they all looked on helplessly. Abraham and Michonne stood watch outside the truck, half watching what was going on inside and half watching for any signs of movement from the hospital.

Maggie stopped pounding down on Carol's chest.

"Come on, Carol," she whispered, "help me out here."

She moved back to Carol's head, blowing another two breaths in before going back to chest compressions, counting under her breath.

"They're coming!" Michonne called in, "They're not alone."

"What d'ya mean?" Daryl asked shortly.

"There's some other guys with them," she answered, watching as they got closer.

A few seconds later, Rick appeared behind the truck, followed by Glenn, Noah and Aaron.

"How's she doing?" he asked breathlessly from his run across the parking lot.

"She stopped breathing," Daryl answered from where he stood at the back of the truck, pacing in animalistic fear while Maggie continued to work on Carol, "Who the hell are you?" he growled at Aaron.

"We've found where Noah's family went. There's a doctor," Rick answered for him, "Get ready to move out, now!"

Michonne, Glenn, Noah and Abraham climbed in to the truck as Rick slammed the shutter closed, running around to the front of the truck and climbing in. Aaron climbed in on the other side and Rick kicked the engine into gear.

Rick spotted Heath and Scott across the parking lot, climbing up onto two of a group of three horses and disappearing behind the hospital building.

"Go that way," Aaron pointed, as Rick pressed his foot to the gas and the truck lurched forward.

"How far to this place?" Rick asked.

"About six miles by road. The guys can go cross-country on the horses so they'll get there first. They'll warn Denise. They'll be ready for us." Aaron answered.

Rick nodded, putting more pressure on the gas as they sped down the road. He just prayed Carol could hold out until then. After all, if they were to lose her, they'd lose Daryl too. Of that, he was absolutely certain.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: And now, the end is near, and so I face the final curtain! La dee da dee da!**

**Yus yus, this is the final chapter, just in time for the start of 5b! Woo!**

**Thanks for sticking with this story from the beginning, as I know a few of you have. It has been a pleasure writing a load of rubbish and finding that at least a few of you have enjoyed it :P**

**Do me a solid, and leave me one last review and let me know your thoughts! It would be lovely to read a couple when I return home from my wild night out tonight, drunk as a fish and wondering what the hell I'm doing with my life!**

**This last one is quite long, but I set myself tonight as the deadline for the end of the story, so here it is in one chunky block of story resolution!**

**Enjoy! And thanks for reading! :)**

Chapter 11

Daryl could see that Maggie was flagging after what must have been her tenth round of chest compressions. She stopped, reaching for Carol's pulse point again while lowering her ear to the older woman's mouth.

Daryl crouched beside her, watching with wide eyes as Maggie lifted her gaze to meet his. His heart clenched painfully as Maggie's eyes welled up, and a look of complete hopelessness washed across her face.

"No," Daryl growled, jaw set in a hard line, "we ain't givin' up."

He immediately nudged her aside, tilting Carol's chin up with one hand and pinching her nose shut with the other as he cover her mouth with his own and breathed for her. He quickly drew back, crossing his hands over before mimicking Maggie, pushing down on Carol's chest. He hated it; it felt like her ribs could crack under his hands. But Maggie nodded at him encouragingly when he looked to her for guidance.

It felt like hours passed before the back of the truck opened again, and they were met by a few people they didn't recognise carrying a stretcher, as they climbed up beside Daryl.

He felt hands clutch and pull at his arms as he continued to press down on Carol's chest, but his fear seemed to prevent him from reacting as he shrugged them off. All he could focus on was keeping her alive. He heard voices calling his name, but he couldn't respond. He couldn't stop.

A pair of strong arms appeared under his own, crossing over his chest and hauling him back towards the wall of the truck.

He struggled fiercely, hearing his own panicked panting as the men with the stretcher crowded around Carol, blocking her from his view.

"Calm down," a voice mumbled in his ear, seemingly unperturbed by his flailing.

Rick stepped into his view as the arms continued to pin him back against a hard chest. Daryl met his gaze wildly, as Rick's hands fell squarely on the front of his shoulders in an attempt to calm him.

"They need to take her for surgery," Rick said as Daryl fought to control his breathing, "you need to calm down."

The look in Rick's eyes seemed to wake Daryl from his fearful daze, and he stopped thrashing as he visibly deflated.

The arms released him and he almost fell to his knees, stumbling a little before finally finding his balance.

Rick didn't release his hold, as Daryl watched over his shoulder. The men carried Carol swiftly away from the truck on the stretcher, led by a woman with long, wavy, red hair tied back in a pony tail. He saw Glenn running alongside them, the two canisters of oxygen in his hands.

"I need to go with her," Daryl pleaded gruffly.

"No, right now, you need to calm yourself," Rick answered, shaking his head, "and you need to let them do their job."

Daryl glared at him, but knew he was right.

"Who the hell are they? Where are we?" Daryl asked, peering out into the scenery beyond the back of the truck.

"Come and see," Rick answered, releasing his hold on Daryl and gesturing with a nod of his head for him to follow.

They clambered out of the truck just as the group carrying Carol disappeared into a building down the street.

Daryl looked around to find unfamiliar faces staring back at the commotion. They were on some kind of residential street, with other smaller streets branching off. They were surrounded by sheet metal walls on all sides, enclosing a space of at least a few blocks. Sturdy iron gates stood behind them where they'd entered the settlement, where half a dozen men and women stood guard.

It was incredible, and Daryl found he was having a hard time believing what was right before his eyes. All down the street, people were coming in and out of houses. There were children playing. He guessed just on this one road he could see around forty people.

"What is this place?" he asked nobody in particular.

"Welcome to the Alexandria Safe Zone," Aaron said, stepping into his line of sight and holding out his hand, "We haven't been introduced, I'm Aaron."

"Daryl," he answered, not taking Aaron's hand, instead turning around to take in his surroundings again.

"Guess you weren't lying," Rick said, sounding as stunned as Daryl was.

"Oh my God! Noah!" a voice called from down the street.

Daryl turned to see a dark-skinned woman, perhaps a few years older than himself, her hands raised over her mouth in shock.

"Mom!" Noah cried in answer, stumbling over to the woman as fast as he could, as she started crying loudly.

He fell into her embrace, though she was a good foot shorter than he was. They all stood and watched the exchange in silence, savouring the all too rare moment as the tears flowed from Noah and his mother's eyes.

A figure appearing in the doorway of a nearby house caught Daryl's attention, and he did a double take when he found that the figure was the spitting image of the young man currently wrapped in his mother's embrace.

"Noah?" the figure asked, eyes wide and disbelief plain in his voice.

Noah's head whipped up at the sound of his name.

"Marcus," Noah answered, all kinds of emotion dripping from the word.

"Noah!" the other boy called, running to meet his apparent mother and identical twin brother, crashing into them full force as they all laughed and cried simultaneously.

Daryl swallowed thickly as Aaron appeared at his side again.

"That woman," Aaron started as Daryl's eyes fell upon the blond man tiredly, "your wife? She's in good hands."

"She ain't my wife," he answered, "she…she…" he couldn't work out how to finish that sentence. There weren't words for what she was to him.

After a moment he gave up on the thought.

"Can I see her?" he asked gruffly.

"I'll take you in there," Aaron said, patting him on the shoulder, and Daryl couldn't summon the energy to even flinch at the touch.

"Hey," Rick spoke, Daryl's eyes momentarily landing on his, "want me to come with you?"

"Naw man, stay with the others," Daryl answered, trying to smile but finding it didn't quite appear on his face.

Rick nodded sadly, before turning his attention elsewhere.

Aaron started to walk toward the building Carol had disappeared into minutes ago, and Daryl fell into step beside him.

They entered through a door into a long hallway with carpeted floors, plastic chairs lining the walls with various closed doors off to either side. Daryl could tell that it was essentially a house that had been converted into a makeshift hospital.

One of the doors opened, and Glenn appeared without his oxygen canisters, pulling the door shut behind him as he turned to face Daryl.

"She in there?" Daryl asked, already advancing on the door.

"Yeah," Glenn answered, before stepping in front of Daryl and blocking his way, "but you can't go in. It's already cramped in there and they need space to work on her."

"Work on her?" Daryl asked, not backing down, "What the hell they doin' to her?"

"I'm not sure," Glenn answered, not allowing Daryl past him, "they just said we need to keep out and they'll come get us when they can."

Daryl huffed loudly in frustration, dropping his head into his hands as he stood helplessly before Glenn.

"Why don't you sit down, man?" Glenn prompted.

Daryl raised his head, looking over his shoulder before turning and heading toward the plastic chair directly opposite the door. He slumped down heavily, elbows resting on his knees and forehead falling into his palms.

He heard Glenn sit down next to him, and heard the click of the door as Aaron left them alone in the empty corridor.

They sat in silence for a long time, Daryl straining his ears for any sounds from the other side of the door. Apart from the occasional clang of metal, beeping of some unknown machine and mumbling voices, there was nothing to give away what was happening in that room.

"You don't gotta stay," Daryl mumbled after a while, not lifting his head.

"I know," Glenn answered, leaving it at that.

The unspoken words gave Daryl a comfort he didn't realise he'd been craving. Glenn was staying with him for one simple reason. He cared. Maybe after so long spent together, that shouldn't have surprised Daryl, but the habits forged from a life spent with only yourself to watch your own back died hard. It was a strange concept to have a family built from a bunch of people he never would have met if this plague hadn't hit.

With his friend by his side, he waited. After some time, Rick appeared through the front door, coming to sit on Daryl's other side wordlessly. Daryl didn't bother looking up from where his eyes rested on the floor at his feet, but he recognised Rick's boots.

Footsteps moving closer to the other side of the door to the surgery room caused him to whip his head up, the movement sending a brief wave of dizziness over him after having his head hung down for so long. The door opened, and Daryl sprung to his feet.

A girl, perhaps in her twenties, with long brown hair slipped out and disappeared up the corridor and into another room. The woman with the red hair stood in the doorway before him, her white doctor's coat had small, reddish stains across the front. Carol's blood, he presumed in horror.

He moved as if to barge past her into the room, but she stopped him with a hand to his chest.

"She's OK," she told him gently as his eyes fell upon hers angrily, "please, sit down for a minute. My name's Denise, I'm a doctor."

She looked at him imploringly, but sternly, and he chewed his lip for a moment before stepping back from her, though refusing to sit back down.

"What's wrong with her? She gon' be OK?" he asked.

"She had a collapsed lung," Denise told him, "without an x-ray it was hard to tell the extent of the damage, but I've done what I can for her."

"What does that mean? You fixed her lung?" Daryl asked, shaking his head in frustrated confusion.

"For now, I think so. When a lung gets punctured, the air escapes and gets trapped in the chest cavity," Denise explained, "Eventually it builds up and the lung is forced to collapse in on itself. Lucky for her, I've seen a lot of these before when I worked in the ER. Figured out which lung it was and managed to drain the air from the cavity."

"So she'll be all right?" Rick asked, standing up beside Daryl.

"Well, her lung has re-inflated, which is a good sign, but she's not yet breathing on her own. It's impossible to say how damaged the lung is; she could relapse if the puncture still exists," Denise told them sympathetically, "and even if it heals fine, her brain was starved of oxygen for a long time. We'll only really be able to tell if that's had an effect if she wakes up."

"_When_ she wakes up," Rick corrected her.

She smiled sadly at him, and nodded unconvincingly.

"Can I see her?" Daryl asked. He'd remained stock still, staring at the floor throughout Denise's explanation.

"Sure," Denise smiled, "it might help her to know you're there."

She stepped aside, allowing Daryl into the room. He walked past her quickly and purposefully, but found himself frozen in place as he laid eyes upon her. Her face was pale and drained, her eyes shut, and a tube hung out of her mouth, connected to what Daryl presumed was a ventilator. The white hospital sheets were pulled up to her waist, but her chest was wrapped in bandages spanning from the bottom of her ribs to under her armpits, leaving her shoulders and arms exposed.

"What's the bandages for?" he asked, feeling Denise hovering behind him.

"Some of her ribs were badly broken, I had to reset them. Plus, I had to push quite a thick needle into her chest to release the trapped air…it took a few attempts to find the right place."

"How long she gotta have that tube in her mouth?" he asked, finding that the sound of her artificial breaths filled him with a strange nervousness.

"Just until she can breathe on her own. We'll try taking her off the ventilator tomorrow. She's lucky we have power here; without that ventilator we'd have lost her already."

Daryl closed his eyes, frowning at the thought, before plucking up the courage to approach her.

He stopped beside the bed, cautiously reaching out a hand to rest upon hers lightly on the edge of the bed.

He heard someone enter the room behind him, and he turned his head to see Rick carrying in one of the plastic chairs from the hallway, placing it down beside the bed. Daryl nodded his thanks, which Rick returned before taking a step back.

"You want me to stay?" Rick asked as Daryl lowered himself into the chair, never breaking contact with Carol's hand.

"No, I'm good," Daryl told him, seeing the worry in Rick's eyes.

"OK," Rick answered softly, "if you need anythin'…"

"Thanks," Daryl answered, cutting him off.

Rick hovered for a moment before leaving the room, thanking Denise on his way out.

"Can she hear me?" Daryl asked Denise, not looking away from Carol.

"Hard to say, but it's entirely possible," she told him, "worth a shot."

Daryl nodded, hearing her start to retreat for the door.

"Hey," he called out, turning his head to her, "thanks. You know, for…"

"It's nothing," she answered, smiling kindly at him.

"No, it ain't nothin'. It…just, thanks," he told her, finding words failing him, as always.

She smiled again, before turning on her heel and pulling the door shut behind her as she stepped into the hallway.

Daryl watched her close the door before turning his attention back to Carol.

Her hand was cool in his, but not cold like she'd been in the back of the truck, and he took that as a good sign. He ran his thumb across her knuckles, memorising each freckle on the back of her hand as if this was the last chance he'd get to do so.

He shook that thought from his head. He couldn't think like that or he'd send himself crazy. For a moment, he hated himself for caring so much. His whole life he'd managed to keep people at arm's length, never really caring for anyone except Merle. Sure, he'd been lonely, but he'd grown numb to that. Numb to everything, really. He lived a crappy existence, but he'd built himself a life without emotion or pain. He'd escaped the shit storm of anger and fear of his childhood, and become hardened to it all.

That existence had made him perfectly suited to the world as it was now. These days, if you cared about someone, you were vulnerable. It was dangerous to care, for you and for the person you cared about. It got you or them killed. The single best way of making it now, was watching out for only yourself.

But then she had come along. Not just her, he supposed. After all, there was a whole bunch of people out there that he cared for now. But she had opened him up; started off that chain reaction. Back at Hershel's farm, after he'd found himself caring about finding Sophia, about the little girl's abused and widowed mother, he'd tried to cut himself off. He'd pushed himself away from them, distanced himself for the lot of them. He'd told himself it was better that way.

But time and time again, she'd been there to pull him in. The one person in his life who'd refused to give up on him. Who, with just a sternly spoken sentence, a stubborn frown, or even a caring kiss to his forehead, had reeled him in and shackled him to this group of people.

And he'd let her. He'd seen this woman for what she was, and she'd seen him. Right from the start, it had been like he could see his own loneliness reflected in her eyes. They were both alone in a world that had never exactly been kind to them. He could see her hidden scars, just as she could see his. They'd grown stronger than ever together, and he knew that his existence would no longer mean a thing if she were to leave him.

"You gotta hold on," he heard himself speak softly, "ain't no point in all this shit if you ain't here."

He half expected her to respond, with a twitch of her lip or that gentle squeeze of his hand he'd grown accustomed to. But there was nothing. She stayed still and silent, except for the whoosh and click of the ventilator as it forced her to keep on living.

"I ain't seen much of this place," he continued, finding he just needed to talk to her, "but it seems safe. When we came in here, it was like we was back before all this. The people here…they're livin' normal lives. They got houses and gardens. Nothin' good ever lasts, but I think this place might be the closest thing we got to livin' again."

He suddenly imagined living here, in a house. His family all down that street. Judith growing up without that constant fear that followed them around these days. He thought back to the scene that greeted him when he'd climbed out of the truck.

"Noah found his family, his Mom, his brother. I keep thinkin' how happy Beth would'a been for him," he spoke quietly to her, "kinda makes it like her death weren't for nothin', you know?"

He sighed sadly, his head falling to the bed as it all became too much, and he shut his eyes to everything.

"Don't even know if you can hear me," he mumbled into the mattress, receiving no reply, as he suspected.

* * *

><p>"Man, it's been two days, go take a shower," Rick said from his chair beside Daryl.<p>

Daryl had barely left her the room, choosing to sleep and eat in his chair at her side. There was a bathroom just down the hall with a shower cubicle, sink and toilet, but Daryl hated being away from her for any length of time. But today, Rick had brought him a clean set of clothes and a dark grey towel.

"Don't need a shower," Daryl mumbled.

"My nose begs to differ," Rick answered, frowning when Daryl showed no reaction, "if anything happens, I'll come get you right away. You need to take care of yourself."

Daryl grumbled, but decided to agree if it would get the man off his back.

"Fine," he answered, standing up and holding his hands out for the clothes in Rick's lap, "but she so much as twitches, you come find me."

"I will, I promise," Rick answered, handing him the clothes and towel.

Daryl took one last lingering look at her, before storming out the door. He would make this quick; he needed to be there if she woke up and knowing her she'd pick a moment when he was out of the room to do so.

The hallway was empty as usual, although he could see Denise in one of the other rooms tending to a man's leg. She spotted him, throwing him a smile, which he tried in vain to return, and it came out more like a grimace.

He quickly pushed open the door to the bathroom, stepping in and shutting it behind him, twisting the lock with a click. He threw the clean clothes down on the floor by the door and hung the towel up on the empty rack, before reaching in to turn on the shower.

He couldn't deny that the feeling of hot water on his face and shoulders helped soothe the tension he felt coiled inside him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a hot shower; even the showers at the prison had been lukewarm at the best of times.

He found a bottle of shampoo on the shelf in the shower cubicle, and decided his hair probably could do with a decent scrub. As he ran his fingers through his matted locks, he realised how long his hair had gotten. He could really do with a haircut.

Deciding he'd been away from Carol's side for long enough, he quickly threw some shower gel over himself, watching as the dirt rolled off him in the hot stream of water, disappearing down the plughole.

Yeah OK, Rick was right; he was pretty disgusting.

He turned the shower off and stepped out, drying himself quickly before throwing on the unfamiliar clothes Rick had found him. At least they were more or less to his style: a dark brown pair of pants and a dark blue shirt which Daryl decided the sleeves were coming off of later. He picked his angel wing vest up from where it lay discarded in his dirty clothes, shrugging it on and reattaching his knife holster.

He lifted the towel quickly to scrub over his hair, before checking his appearance in the mirror.

Haggard was an understatement. The dark rings under his eyes were more pronounced than he'd ever seen them, though the purple-red bruise around his right eye had more or less faded. Throwing himself a glare, he turned from the mirror and unlocked the door, stepping out after deciding his dirty clothes could stay put on the floor for now.

He found Rick in the same position he'd been in before, only he wasn't alone with Carol. Sasha sat on the side of the bed, clutching the Carol's hand tightly.

They both looked up when he walked in, and he noticed that Sasha looked more exhausted than he did. Her eyes were red rimmed like she'd been crying non-stop for days, and Daryl supposed that she probably had.

"I'll give you two a minute," Rick said, standing from his chair and heading out the door, patting Daryl on the shoulder as he passed.

"Hey," Sasha said as Daryl slowly returned to his chair.

"Hey," he answered, unsure what to say, "how you doin'?"

"I'm OK," Sasha answered, her eyes meeting his, "how bout you?"

"Same," Daryl said, chewing his lip thoughtfully, "Hey, what happened to Tyreese, I…"

"It's OK," she cut him off, her eyes falling to the floor, "you did what you could to save him."

"Wish I could'a done more," he mumbled.

"He died saving people he cared about," she said quietly, and Daryl could hear the tears she was trying to hold back in the tremble of her voice, "I'm glad he managed to save Carol. He wouldn't have been able to live with himself if he'd survived and she didn't."

"He was a good man," Daryl answered, wishing he could say anything to make it better.

"He was," she replied, smiling sadly, "He's given you a second chance, Daryl. He knew how you felt about her," she gestured to Carol with her eyes.

Daryl said nothing. Truth was, he didn't even know how he felt about her. He'd never felt anything like this before, and it was a whole mixture of happiness and pain that he couldn't put any kind of name to.

"Tyreese told me, when Bob was dying, that I should make the most of every moment. I didn't understand how I could do that, when all I could think about was that he wasn't going to be here any more. Now I wish I'd listened. I wasted that precious time being angry and scared, when I wish I'd just told him how happy he'd made me, just for that short time," she spoke sadly, gazing at Carol while lost in some kind of reverie.

"What if she don't wake up?" Daryl asked, his voice breaking slightly as he finally acknowledged that possibility.

"She will," Sasha answered, her eyes flicking up to meet his, "and when she does, you make sure she knows how you feel. Life's too short, Daryl."

He sighed heavily.

"What if she don't feel…you know…?" he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

"She does," she answered, "we all know it. The way she looks at you… She's just waiting for you."

Daryl considered that, his eyes dropping to the mattress where Carol's hand lay motionless in Sasha's. They sat in silence for a while, before Sasha got to her feet slowly.

"I'd better go," she said, and when his eyes met hers he saw the tear tracks from where she'd been silently crying, "she'll be OK."

Daryl nodded, unable to form words as Sasha left him alone with Carol.

"Sure hope you can hear right now," he mumbled, "cause I'm pretty sure I'm too chicken shit to say anythin' to you when you're awake."

He was met by silence, as he expected, and he sat back in his chair and mulled over their conversation in his head. Sasha was right; he needed to tell her. The thought of her dying without knowing what she meant to him made him feel physically sick. He knew he could never be good enough for her. He'd never be that doting, romantic man, or a sweet-talking, well-spoken gentleman. But he'd fight to the ends of the earth for her; maybe, if he was the luckiest sum'bitch alive, that could be enough for her.

* * *

><p>She could hear distant, muffled voices, and she could just about make out what they were saying. Unrecognisable voices at first, speaking hurriedly about fractured ribs and a punctured lung. She wondered who they were talking about. She couldn't see or feel anything. It was like she was floating weightlessly, suspended in mid-air and shrouded in darkness. Only she wasn't afraid, because suddenly, his voice was there.<p>

He sounded scared, or maybe nervous. It sounded like he was talking to someone, only nobody replied. It then occurred to her that he was talking to her. He was telling her about Noah finding his family. Noah had a brother? She hadn't known that.

Beth. He mentioned Beth, and he said it so sadly. Why was he sad? Oh yes, she remembered. The hospital. Too soon. She was too young.

_I don't even know if you can hear me._ His voice resonated in her head, though it was more muffled than before, like he was hiding his face.

Oh, Daryl.

His voice had stopped then, but she could feel him with her. His presence was always there as time drifted past her.

A while later she heard voices again. That voice she'd first heard talking about fractured ribs. She was talking about a ventilator. Talking about switching it off. The voice then said that someone was now breathing on their own. Who were they talking about? Her brain was scrambled, and she knew she was missing something.

Other conversations drifted in and out of her ears, but none seemed important. And all that time, Daryl was always with her. Sometimes, she felt him disappear, just for a moment, but he always came back. She bathed in his presence. It warmed her and cooled her at the same time, but above all else she just felt safe. Peaceful.

At some point he was talking again. And a woman was replying. It was Sasha. She focussed on the words. _He died saving people he cared about._ Tyreese was dead? How?

That house. She remembered. She'd been in his arms as he'd jumped from that window. He hadn't made it. She remembered Daryl's hunched form in the truck right after. His anguish at not being able to save the big man.

_He's given you a second chance, Daryl. He knew how you felt about her. _About who? How did Daryl feel about who?

_What if she don't wake up? _Daryl's voice was broken. Wake up? Was he talking about her? Where was she? Last thing she remembered was lying on the floor of that truck, her lungs screaming at her. Now Daryl was waiting for her to wake up. Wait, was it she they had been talking about earlier? With the punctured lung and broken ribs? Breathing on her own?

Shit. This was bad.

_She will_, _and when she does, you make sure she knows how you feel. Life's too short, Daryl._

How he feels? About what?

_What if she don't feel…you know…?_

_She does, we all know it. The way she looks at you… She's just waiting for you._

Wait. Was Daryl implying he felt about her, like she did about him? She knew that she meant a lot to him, but she'd always thought that romantic feelings were something unobtainable for Daryl. She'd never judged him for it, but merely accepted that. She could never see him opening himself up enough for that kind of relationship, and she would always be content to love him from a distance.

She heard Sasha leave.

_Sure hope you can hear right now, cause I'm pretty sure I'm too chicken shit to say anythin' to you when you're awake._

Oh shit. He did feel like that about her! He fell silent, and she longed for him to continue. She needed to wake up. If he couldn't find the courage to say anything to her, she sure as hell would find it in her to tell him. As Sasha had said, life was too short these days.

More time passed, though she couldn't say how long. She fought to clear the fog surrounding her and holding her unconscious. She could feel it dissipating, but painfully slowly.

And then suddenly, she could feel a warmth against her palm. She was coming back.

* * *

><p>His eyes snapped open from his semi-conscious state as he felt a twitch against his hand. He stared, wide eyed at their linked hands.<p>

Had he imagined that? He'd been on the edge of sleep after all, and his mind had a tendency to play tricks on him.

And then it happened again; the smallest movement of her fingers in his.

"Carol!" he breathed, leaning forward in his chair.

Her fingers twitched again.

"Open your eyes," he begged, hoping she could hear him.

His prayers were answered as her eyes cracked open, blinking blearily before coming to rest on his own.

"Hey," he whispered, "welcome back."

She frowned slightly, her eyes falling closed again as her brow seemed to furrow in concentration. He could see her lips moving below the oxygen mask she now wore. He lifted it from her mouth, leaving it to rest under her chin.

Her lips were moving slowly, and she was mumbling ever so quietly.

He lowered his ear to her mouth, trying desperately to hear her muttered words.

"Daryl," she whispered. She was calling for him.

"Hey, I'm here," he told her, taking her hand in both of his and holding it to his mouth.

Her eyes cracked open again and met his gaze. And then he saw her smile, and his heart squeezed painfully in relief as he couldn't help but smile back.

"Where are we?" she asked, just a little louder and clearer than before, though still weak.

"We're safe," he told her, deciding that was enough explanation for the time being, "how you feelin'?"

Suddenly, she fixed him with the most intense gaze, and he found himself wanting to look away. Only he couldn't.

"Daryl," she whispered, "I love you."

He swallowed hard, his mouth falling open as he struggled to process the feelings that washed over him.

His fear, as usual, won out.

"That's the painkillers talkin'," he answered, chuckling uncomfortably.

"No," she said firmly, even though her voice was weak and hoarse, "Heard you and Sasha talking."

He blushed slightly.

"You could hear that?" he asked nervously, chewing on his lip.

She nodded slowly, smiling slightly at his embarrassment.

"No hidin' now, then," he spoke gruffly, smirking at the smug look on her face, "better wipe that grin off your face," he joked.

"Make me," she challenged.

Damn woman, sassy as hell even after waking from a four-day-long coma.

For once, he decided he was tired of telling her to stop. She was more-or-less inviting him to change the game, and he'd be damned if he chickened out again.

Swallowing thickly, his smile disappeared as his face turned serious, eyes falling on her lips.

She stared up at him daringly, yet he could see gentle encouragement behind it.

Subconsciously, his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and her eyes moved from his eyes to his mouth.

He was stuck; too scared to go forward but knowing he couldn't go back, either.

_Man up, Darlena, and quit bein' such a pussy!_

Trust Merle's voice to enter his head right now! Asshole always picked his moments, even as a dead asshole.

And then the words hit him. _I ain't no pussy!_ Daryl growled back in his head, and with a sharp intake of breath, he lowered his face down to hers so quickly that Carol almost jumped, his lips meeting hers awkwardly.

She was sure he would pull away immediately, but suddenly he seemed to calm, and his lips stayed pressed against hers, motionless but gentle. His hand lifted up to rest on her cheek as he lingered.

He pulled away slowly, scared to open his eyes and see her expression. But then her hand fell softly against his cheek, and he opened his eyes to meet hers. There were tears pooled in the startling blue orbs staring back at him, and her lips were pressed into a smile.

He couldn't help but smile back, as her thumb brushed across his cheek. He turned his face into her hand, lifting his own hand to hold it in place as he planted a soft kiss on her palm.

"We're gonna be OK," Carol whispered.

"Yeah," he answered, getting caught in her bright blue eyes, "we are."

**The End!**

_**That's all folks!**_


End file.

Walking Dead, Angst, Hurt-Comfort