Nox: moose-sketchbook (from Tumblr) has indirectly prompted me to write this. Not sure she knows it, but she'll find out soon enough! This one is a lot of just Carol, with Caryl speaking through her. Also, there are things in here that don't connect with the TV Show. I have never been more proud of something since Promise. I hope you all enjoy this, as much as I loved writing it. It was such a joy (I know, the irony), and I put so much love into it.
Warning: Graphic Torture
The Walking Dead belongs to Kirkman and AMC.
Find Me
"We're just here to talk," he said calmly, watching her with his one eye. He sat on a chair in front of her, his left leg thrown over his right, hands settled neatly in his lap. He looked clean and neat as if he'd gotten dressed for a special occasion.
She didn't like him. Didn't like his hair, his clean clothes, the way he studied her. She didn't like the way he talked, as if he were some academic of research and she was here for some study.
She didn't like the way his eyes narrowed just the slightest while he continued to stare at her neck.
"I have nothing to say to you," she said, sounding more scared than she had intended. She didn't know what he was capable of, didn't know what this man would do to her. But she could see the possibilities.
Her heart started to pound in her chest.
His lips pursed and he clucked his tongue.
"But we just want to get along," he drawled, spreading his arms wide. "The good people of Woodberry only want to bring your people here, make them welcome, give them a proper home." He sounded so cheerful, so happy; like he really believed that she would believe his words. But she could clearly see the falseness behind them, the mask he put on. He must have been a master at fooling everyone around him.
"And we are the 'good people' now?" she demanded fiercely. His eyes sparkled dangerously, his lip curving up in a smile. He leaned forward in his chair, and she couldn't help that she leaned back in response.
"I am the good people," he murmured, with an authority she'd not heard since Ed had died.
And she knew in that moment that she would never get out of there on her own. That if she didn't do something she would seal her fate, forever.
She lunged forward, her intent unclear even to herself. But for some reason, she knew she had to do it. She had to fight to get back to the ones she loved. She had to fight for her freedom.
And quicker than she thought possible, he pulled a gun out and had it pointed toward her head, resting against her forehead. The cold metal sat heavy on her skin, the sudden weight of it bearing down on her entire being. All it would take is the simple pressure of his finger, and she would be gone.
"Really?" he said gently, a hint of a smile clear on his lips, the gun resting heavy on her forehead. She swallowed hard and felt her hands tremble.
She wasn't ready to die. She wasn't ready to leave behind the life she had been given, the people she had grown to love.
She wasn't ready to leave him behind.
The door behind him slammed open, making her jerk, and one of his men came in, boots clopping hard against the concrete floor. She grit her teeth as he grabbed her arm and forced her back down to the chair, her back slamming against the wood, and the front legs rising off the ground from the force.
"Bind her hands," the Governor said, holstering his gun and walking away. He turned at the doorway, cocking an eyebrow. She didn't put up a struggle against the man tying her hands, but he still pulled her arms behind her back rougher than he needed too, still pulled the rope tighter than he needed too.
She winced at the way the rope scratched against her skin, rubbed harshly against her wrists. She couldn't move them.
"We'll talk after you've had some time to think."
She didn't like the way he said it, like he had something planned especially for her. Fear gripped her belly tight and she felt her knees go weak. He jerked his head away, signaling his man to take her away.
His large hands closed over her small ones from behind her, and pulled her along. She stumbled backward, tripped and turned on her side. She closed her eyes as the ground rose up to meet her, until an arm snaked around her waist and a growl slipped into her ear from behind her.
"Clumsy broad," her captor snarled. She felt her skin crawl and her heart race. She couldn't catch her breath as she was trapped in this man's hulking frame.
He hauled her over his shoulder like she was a sack of potatoes and carried her out of the room, huffing slightly. She felt vulnerable and exposed.
And the further he took her down the hall, the harder it got to breathe. The light grew dimmer, the smell was starting to suffocate her, and the walls were starting to close in. Then he stopped and she could just see the door around his waist. He drew a key from his pocket and opened it, sucking in a breath as he did. And then he tossed her into the room unceremoniously, and slammed the door in her face, the lock falling back into place.
She fell on her hip, landed on her elbow, felt something jab into her neck. And the smell. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. It was the smell of-
She jolted upright, the pain of her body forgotten and felt around in the darkness from behind her, warily. Her hands trembled as her fingers grazed over something slightly hard but still pliable beneath her fingers. And then she leaned forward enough to find the graying eyes of a walker head staring back at her with nothing else attached to it.
And she screamed.
She scrambled back, her breathing coming in short bursts, as she kicked at pieces and climbed over the things beneath her.
She hit the wall behind her, drawing her knees up to her chest. She couldn't breathe, couldn't stop the tears from falling down her face.
Couldn't stop from crying out his name.
"Daryl," she moaned, tamping down his name even as it left her lips. She shouldn't let them know how this would affect her, couldn't let them know that inside she wanted to break. But she couldn't. Not if she wanted him to find her, not if she wanted to keep them safe. She felt a sob rip through her, her frame shaking with the effort it took to keep them under control. She was trapped, she was tied up, she was going to be tortured and beaten and killed and she would never get to see his face again.
"Daryl," she whimpered again, and buried her face in her knees. She would never get to tell him all the things she kept hidden deep in her heart.
And would she ever? They hadn't even know the town of Woodbury had existed until they'd run across the Governor and his men. It had then become a matter of keeping the prison's location from prying eyes, and figuring out just where the newcomers had come from.
So how would she be found? How would anyone ever find her when no one knew where to look?
It would take a miracle for someone to find her now. It would take…
She felt something stir within in her; something she had long abandoned since Sophia had been taken from her.
If you're still there, she whispered in her mind, the tears still bleeding down her cheeks, if you're still willing to listen to me, than please, she begged.
Please help him find me.
Before it's too late, she thought. Before he kills me. Before I lose the chance to tell him everything I've kept hidden in my heart. Before that monster figures out that no matter what he does, I'll never tell him where they are. Where he is.
She shuddered out a breath, letting her head fall against the wall behind her, and staring up at ceiling into the darkness, trying to calm her racing heart and catch her breath.
Please God, help Daryl find me.
XXX
In a rare moment, Rick watched as Daryl sat absolutely still facing the chain-link fence, his shoulders hunched against the early morning chill. The silence between them was different; heavy with the weight of their loss. And the moans of the walkers that surrounded them was eerie and cold; haunting. The gray of the day that was setting in about them did nothing to ease the hurt inside either. They were feeling it deep this time; the loss of one of their own.
He didn't think he'd ever seen the hunter so absorbed before. His eyes never wavered from the metal fence, the line of trees. Rick knew exactly where he was looking; the place where she'd been taken. He felt a stab of guilt run through him, like a hot knife. There were so many things they could have done differently to have avoided all this. They should have stayed in pairs. They should have gone when it was lighter. They should have gone when the small herd of walkers had passed.
So many should have's and all of it too late.
Nothing could change the fact that Carol had been taken by The Governor. A man they knew nothing about, to a place they didn't know where the hell was. She was gone. They didn't know if she was alive or dead, human or walker. Had she given up the prison's position to this Governor? Or would she hold out until…
He couldn't even think that.
And now Daryl sat there, looking as if his whole world was crashing down around him. Lost. Empty. As if everything had been drained of all color, all meaning. Rick was certain now that things were different between the two people of his tight-knit group that he considered the most fragile.
He knew that they were always close. It only seemed natural that with their similar pasts they should connect on a level that most of the group wouldn't understand. But he never really expected Daryl to become so…so detached.
He never expected Daryl to lose himself in the pain of her loss.
He wanted to say something, do something, anything. He just didn't know what.
He rubbed the back of his neck, pinched the base of his spine, and ran his hand through his hair. Didn't matter what he said, he couldn't let his friend go through this alone.
"I gotta go," Daryl said suddenly, raising his eyes to meet the sun. Rick didn't say anything, just watched him quietly. The light hit Daryl across the face, a sharp contrast to the grim set of his features.
"I gotta find her," he whispered desperately. He turned to look at Rick, his eyes hard. There was a sudden fierce determination in his blue gaze, a hard tension in his shoulders that Rick hadn't seen just moments before. He nodded in agreement, shifting his feet. He'd expected nothing less. Daryl was the best tracker, and if anyone could find Carol it would be him. And Daryl would find Carol, because he could see now that he needed to. For whatever reasons he had.
And if anything, because they'd both lost her that day too.
She'd been taken when they were being lazy, overconfident. And they'd tried to find her that first day, but the light had failed them, had failed Daryl. There was nothing to track in the blackness, and the walkers had overtaken them.
Rick knew Daryl was beating himself up over it, over all of it. And he would do what he could to help his friend.
"We'll find her. I'll get-" he started, but Daryl cut him off before he could finish, shaking his head fast.
"No," he barked, his voice coming out gravelly, standing up, "I'll do this myself."
"You'll just slow me down," he added.
He could see that Daryl wasn't going to have it any other way. Could see it in the hard glint to his eyes, and the set of his shoulders. He'd find Carol, on his own, in the way he knew how. He'd track the sonuvabitches who took her, he'd take them down, and he'd bring her home.
He'd do that himself.
And Rick didn't think he could tell Daryl no. Would he have let anyone tell him he couldn't save Lori, if he could have been given the chance?
He clasped Daryl's shoulder firmly, and pulled him just a little bit closer, ducking his head slightly. "You do what you have to," he said lowly, meaningfully. He held Daryl's gaze with his own, let the man know that no matter what, he was on his side. And if he needed to do this alone, then he'd support him on that. He squeezed his shoulder once, and then let him go.
And Daryl nodded his head gratefully, clapping Rick on the shoulder and took off; the crossbow slung across his back, and the leather-winged vest shifting beneath it.
XXX
"Fruit is the hardest thing to come by," he said absently, slicing the tomato on a small table that he'd set up in front of her. It was small, but still juicy and bright red. She felt her mouth salivate at the sight, and her stomach growled angrily.
She bit her bottom lip savagely to stop the moan of hunger from escaping her.
She hated him. Hated him with everything she knew.
"Of course, certain vegetables can be grown and harvested. If done right," he continued, taking a bite of a slice of the tomato, the juices running down his chin. She licked at her lip, imaging the blood that dripped down her chin to taste of tomatoes instead of iron. She almost gagged.
And she watched as his lips just barely curved up into a smirk. Her hatred for him grew, and she'd never felt like killing a man more than she did him. She could just imagine her knife sliding effortlessly across his neck, splitting open the soft flesh. Daryl had shown her how to do it quickly, efficiently.
She wanted to feel his life drain between her fingers-
He pushed his chair back, the feet screeching across the concrete, interrupting her thoughts. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, sighing heavily.
"You should just tell us where they are," he said finally, rising to his feet and approaching her. The heavy rap of his boots against the floor made her heart jerk in her chest with each resounding echo in the room.
And she felt the panic constrict her.
She strained against the bindings that held her hands behind the chair. The feeling of being held down, of being trapped to this one place made her breath run ragged. It was as if there was a weight sitting on her chest and she couldn't breathe. She'd never felt so helpless in her entire life.
He grabbed her chin, firmly and held her gaze with his one eye. She couldn't help but briefly wonder how he had lost the other one.
"If you tell me where it is, I won't kill you."
She didn't think she was very strong, or very brave. And she didn't think she was very good at standing up to men either. Her whole life she'd spent cowering in the shadow of her husband, letting him do whatever he wanted to her.
But that threat did nothing to her. What was her life compared to the others she protected? What was her life compared to his? What was herlife without his?
She felt the anger rise fast and hard, like one of Ed's slaps to the face, and she spit in his face. There was a moment of glorious retribution as she watched her saliva hit him square in his good eye, and slide down his cheek.
And then his face twisted and he slapped her across the cheek, hard.
She felt the pain reverberate through her cheek, stinging, pulsing. Her eyes watered, and she wanted to cup her hand to her face. But this pain was nothing to what she used to endure.
"My husband used to hit harder than that," she spat out, licking the blood off her lip. She heard the growl, and waited for another hit but nothing came. She looked up and felt the fear crawl up her spine. He watched her, looked her up and down, and then wiped his hands off on the towel, and retreated from the room.
"Take her back," he called, his head cocking to the side as he watched her be lifted from the chair.
"We'll play tomorrow," he murmured, and the sick smile on her face sent a chill running across her body, and didn't leave her even as she was sent tumbling into her cell again.
She huddled in her corner, the cleanest place she'd made for herself after she had found the courage to push the bodies, and the parts away from her.
She tried to take deep breathes even as the darkness threatened to overwhelm her.
Please, she begged again, as she had been over and over into the darkness, please. He's the only one who won't give up on me. The only one who would care enough to come searching for me. Please, she let her head drop against the wall as the exhaustion consumed her, keep him safe.
She knew how he might respond to her being captured, knew what he would do to find her. And she didn't want him to die doing it. She wanted to see his face, wanted to feel his calloused fingers brush against her arm, wanted to hear his heart beating in his chest.
She wanted to hear his voice call out her name.
Please God, keep him safe. Just bring him to me.
XXX
He sat on his haunches, staring at the ground. He could see some marksof a trail; the slightest impression of a boot, the snapped twig, the trampled plants.
But it didn't sit right in his stomach. It didn't give him the feeling that he was going toward her.
And fuck, he needed to be going in the right direction. Needed to find the sonuvabitch who took her, needed to find her right now. He needed to feel her in his hands to know that she were really okay and he'd keep her that way.
"Fuck," he muttered and stood up.
He was doing this sloppy. Rushed, uncoordinated, and goddammit was he tired. But he couldn't sleep. He'd left the prison yesterday and he still hadn't found the right trail, still hadn't found this town, still hadn't found Carol.
He grit his teeth, felt his jaw begin to ache at the pressure. None of this would be happening if he would a just kept his damn eye on her in the first place.
"Fuck!" He slammed his fist into the tree at his side, breaking skin. Pain burst through his hand, and down his arm, focusing him.
He needed to focus. If he was going to find her, if he was going to bring her home, he had to fucking focus.
He backtracked for a while, until he found the place where he had felt it all go wiry. Something about the clearing of trees, and inconspicuous pile of branches piled off to the left, and the now obvious weathered down grass – the trail he hadn't taken – suddenly seemed suspicious.
And there it was, there it fucking was. The blood, the boots and goddammit – Carol's knife.
He bent to retrieve it, cleverly tucked away in a patch of overgrown weeds.
How many times was he going to find her knife discarded somewhere, out of her hands? How many times was he going to have to find her before he realized it was too late to tell her what was going on inside of him?
He pushed aside the branches and suddenly it was all too easy – for him anyway. They weren't expecting a tracker to come looking behind them, and they must not a been worried about someone with as much fucking fire and vengeance in his gut than him.
He wasn't gonna rest, not until he found her. Not until he looked into her clear blue eyes and he could see that she was okay. Not until he felt her skin on his, and the soft way she would hesitate, for his benefit. She was always thinking about him, always.
He wouldn't rest until he heard her voice calling his name once again.
And when he stood up, and took off, the feeling in his chest was right.
Like something was pulling him toward her.
XXX
She honestly had never expected it to go this far. She should have, but she didn't.
All she knew now was that she couldn't see out of her left eye because it had been swollen shut. She couldn't seem to stop thinking about the pulsating pain in her right thigh where he'd pushed the smallest of six sewing needles into her skin, one. by. one.
She couldn't even stop the whimper that escaped her as he placed the scorching metal plates directly beneath her feet, burning her.
"Do you feel like talking now?" But she bit her tongue, and let the tears fall heavy down her cheeks. She wouldn't talk, she wouldn't talk.
She thrust her chin forward; defiant, strong. She would tell him nothing. She would give him nothing.
"You can't hurt me," she said fiercely. "You can't hurt me any more than I've already been hurt." And she felt the pain of all the years of her suffering from Ed strike her hard. She would survive this. She would get through it no matter what. Because she had been through more than any one had knew.
She could tell that he was getting impatient. He nodded his head and his man grabbed her by the throat, pulling her upward, cutting off the air to her lungs. She choked, gasped and wanted to clutch at his arm but couldn't.
She could do nothing.
And then the darkness started to creep in at the edges of her vision, and she couldn't stop herself from shaking her body – from trying to buck him away from her.
She didn't want to die like this, not when she'd made it this far.
And then his hand fell away and she dropped to the chair, gasping for air. The legs teetered beneath her and it tipped, falling backward. She fell on her hands, her knuckles bursting in pain. She cried out in surprise, not having nearly enough breath to do so. She knew the skin had been torn from her knuckles, could feel the blood swelling over her skin.
Her unnamed torturer lifted her up by the front of her shirt. She choked on her spit, and tilted to the side almost falling to the floor again. She didn't even feel her feet burning against the metal plates beneath her where they sat.
When she opened her eye, just barely, she found the Governor in her face, watching her closely.
"If you don't tell me where it is, I'll kill him," he whispered.
And then she felt the blood drain from her face, the air escaping her again. His face lit up in satisfaction.
"So it's him, is it? He's the one who'll make you talk." He moved around the room, using the sharp end of his knife to clean his nails. She couldn't focus on him clearly, couldn't see anything straight.
So she didn't see him move closer, his eyes blood-filled. He held the knife to her chest, and pushed.
She winced, the pain flaring out across her skin.
"No," she forced out. It didn't matter what he said. It didn't matter what he thought he could do. He'd never be able to use Daryl against her, much less find him. She watched as the Governor's face fell impassive, and she knew he was trying to gain control of himself.
He pushed the blade down on her skin, drawing blood. She gasped against the pain, the warmth of her blood a sharp contrast to the cold pain that shot through her.
The blade trailed across her collarbone, and over her left arm. And she couldn't stop the scream that burst from her lips, echoing around the room and through her ears.
She was left panting, as if she'd run for miles. It didn't matter how many times he cut her, how many times he tried to bleed it out of her. She would say nothing.
"It doesn't matter what you do," she murmured, her breath catching in her throat. "You won't win." He laughed at her, and tapped the blade against her cheek.
"And why is that?" he asked, seeming genuinely curious. And she drew a deep breath, pulling deep from a place she hadn't touched in months.
"He threw him into the Abyss, and locked and sealed it over him, to keep him from deceiving the nations anymore until the thousand years were ended." His brow went up, and this time his laughter started out slow, and built up before he was laughing manically. His companion started laughing as well.
"So I'm the Devil, am I?" He scoffed, and grabbed her jaw, bringing his face right up to hers and squeezing it tight between his fingers.
"God isn't going to save you!" he said, louder than he'd ever been before, his pupil dilating. She could see a vein pulsing across his temple.
"No, he isn't," she agreed softly, and looked up to meet his eye, feeling her strength and her courage fill her one last time, "but he will send me an angel."
And she watched as the anger, and the hatred, and the evil consumed him.
She didn't stop screaming, even when she had been taken back to her cell.
XXX
She wanted to sleep. She wanted something to drink, wanted something to eat, wanted a warm blanked to wrap herself in. She wanted the comfort of her own home. She wanted the comfort of her family around her, and the feeling of safety. She wanted the pain to go away. She wanted to know what it was like to feel whole again.
She wanted to see him again. She wanted to turn around and see those familiar sharp blue eyes staring back at her; untethered, and unashamed. They were just getting to a place where he wasn't afraid to see her. She was beginning to see that there was something between them that was more than just friendly smiles, and casual touches. She was starting to remember was it was like to want again.
To feel that slow fire burn in the pit of her stomach and the need of something greater consume her.
And she wanted him.
A whimper escaped her, at the feeling of loss that gripped her. She wasn't going to get anything. Not here, in this godforsaken place. Where the light couldn't reach her, and the air sat stale in her lungs. Where the smell of death was heavy, and she'd grown numb to the bodies pushed against her.
The dead bodies. The bodies of people she didn't know, of walkers, of pieces. Hands and legs and arms and heads. Pieces that belonged in places she couldn't identify. Bones, and flesh, and tendons that had started to decay and rot.
She was festering in a room that she couldn't escape from.
She felt so alone.
She curled her knees to her chest as the darkness swallowed up everything around her. She couldn't see anything, but for the sliver of light breaking through the crack under the door. She couldn't stop staring at it, like it was a beacon of hope. Like it was the only thing that could keep her going. It had to be the only thing keeping her going, when all this darkness and misery surrounded her.
But it wasn't.
"Please find me," she whispered, the words catching in her throat. It was the first time she'd said them aloud. She'd said them, time and again, like a mantra in her mind. A ward against the darkness. The warmth against the cold.
A prayer.
She couldn't remember the last time she had prayed. Prayed to God. She'd given up hope, faith in the being who had taken away her daughter. And now, she wanted him to bring the only man she had ever cared for with all of her heart, to her now.
That was the only thing she could focus on now. When the doors opened, and they came in to get her, the light blinding her; she closed her eyes to his face.
Let him find me.
When the Governor questioned her about where the prison was, or how many of them there were, or what kind of people they were; she heard only his voice.
Keep him safe.
When the pain became too unbearable, and she couldn't scream any longer because her voice had gone hoarse she thought of his fingers caressing her.
Guide him to me.
He was the only thing keeping her going. The only thing that helped her resist the torture, and the pain, and the hurt. He was the only thing she could see now as the darkness consumed her.
"Please God," she begged hoarsely, for the thirteenth time that hour, to a being she'd once thought she'd given up on. "Please let him find me."
She wanted to be found. She wanted to be saved. She wanted to feel his arms wrap around her, to take away the pain, to take her away, to take away everything. She wanted to feel safe.
And she knew that could only happen in his arms.
XXX
He was moving fast now. Fast enough to be making headway. He didn't need to look any further than a few feet in front of him to see where they'd gone. They'd gotten sloppy. And they sure as hell weren't in no town. He could tell that simply from the way the trail was looking. He was headed somewhere secluded; somewhere where the trees grew so thick you wouldn't even know you could go through them.
But he knew how to find them.
And all he could feel was this light-headed, giddiness. This assured feeling in his gut. He knew how to do this. This was what he'd been born to do, raised to do. All his life he was made to be one thing. And maybe, this was it.
He was going to find her.
He needed too.
That was it. The indescribable need that he couldn't define or control. Nor did he want too.
All he knew was that Carol needed him, and he needed to find her.
And that need urged his legs faster, taking him farther than he ever knew they could.
He didn't think his heart had ever felt so heavy in his chest before, and he wasn't sure it would lift until he had her in his arms.
XXX
She slouched in the chair, unable to hold herself up any longer. She was tired. Tired of fighting, tired of hurting, tired of suffering at the hands of a man who felt for nothing.
"You've held out longer than I expected." He carried on like this was any normal conversation and he hadn't carved into her skin just yesterday, had his man beat her and torture her.
She didn't really care anymore. She just wanted to go home. She just wanted to see Daryl.
"And I'm getting tired of it." Her cheek twitched, and she tried to raise her head to look up. Something in his words made her wary.
He went around her chair, behind her, and she felt the hair on her neck stand on end. She swallowed hard, and clenched her hands together. She would get through this. She would survive, for him.
He pushed his fingers along her shoulder and the scream slipped out of slow, and pitiful. He ran his finger down her back, trailing along the wound he'd given her yesterday.
"This is the last time," he whispered in her ear suddenly. But she couldn't care. The pain as he dug his fingers into her back was excruciating and then he switched to the other side.
"I won't ever tell you," she spat out. "There are worse things in the world then suffering by your hands. Worse things that dying at your hands." It hurt, it hurt like nothing she'd ever felt. She just wanted it all to stop. She just wanted to feel nothing.
But she wouldn't give in to him. He was just another man. He was nothing different than any other asshole who thought he could make people bend to his will by pain, and suffering, and torture. If he thought he could get her to do anything by making her hurt, he was wrong.
"The world used to be full of men like you," she said finally, as she lifted her chin. And he dug his fingers into her back, harder.
She whimpered, and moaned as the pain echoed out across her skin, and her muscle and the blood trickled down her back.
"You think I haven't faced pain before?" she said softly, blood trickling down her chin from where she had bit it.
"I think you haven't faced this pain before," he said softly, threateningly.
What mattered was her family, waiting back in the safety of those prison walls. Walls that were only safe as long as she didn't say anything. What mattered was that Rick come back from the pit of grief he was spiraling into because of the death of Lori. What mattered was that Judith survived through this harsh, unforgiving world of theirs.
What mattered was that Daryl knew he was loved, even if everyone else told him otherwise. Because all that mattered was that she loved him.
"Pain is nothing," she whispered, and she felt his hands clench against her back, "but family is everything." The silence that followed was like nothing she had heard from him before, and for some reason, she felt like he knew exactly what she meant.
And that unnerved her.
But then it was gone, and his hands were falling away from her.
"Let's see what your angel thinks of your wings," he mocked, and walked away, leaving her slumped in the chair, wheezing.
Please God.
"Daryl," she whispered.
Find me.
XXX
She lay huddled in the corner, the pieces of the dead bodies her only comfort in the dark. She was beginning to feel like time didn't exist anymore, and the pain didn't exist anymore.
All she had were the pieces of what was left of humanity here beside her.
"Where are you Daryl?" she murmured, curling onto her side, her head pillowed on something. She didn't know what it was, and she didn't care.
"Are you coming for me?" She had to continue to have hope that he would come for her. She had to have faith.
Please God.
She couldn't talk anymore. Her throat hurt, and it was too hard to breathe.
Please, just bring him to me safely. If he tries to find me, just don't let him get hurt doing so.
She felt her heart tremble at the thought of Daryl.
And if he doesn't come…
She let the thought trail off, thinking about it. If he didn't come for her she would die. If he didn't come, then everyone would still be safe. And that was all that really mattered.
If he doesn't come, just let him know that I never blamed him. Let him know that I loved him.
She shuddered out a breath, feeling like she had done everything right. She felt her bones settle, felt her muscles relax knowing that the Governor would never find the people she loved.
She closed her eyes, and wished for sleep.
But she couldn't sleep. She could suddenly hear the pop pop of something going on outside, somewhere around her. She could barely hear it but for her clogged ears. Everything was muffled from the pain.
She didn't know what to do, or what was going on. She didn't know if she should be scared.
It wouldn't matter. The sounds faded to nothing, and the silence invaded again.
And she let her head fall back down. But she couldn't sleep now, and she couldn't stop staring at the door; at the sliver of light that tortured her with its false hope.
God, please, she begged, one last time. Because she was sure that was all she had now. One last time.
Please bring him safely to me. Please keep him safe.
And then she did something more selfish than she had in a long time. She prayed for what she wanted.
Please, give me the chance to see him. Give me the chance to tell him the things I never have.
She felt her heart grow heavy with the weight of her feelings.
Don't make us suffer any more than we already have. We deserve to love now. We deserve to love each other.
And then she heard the pounding of feet coming fast toward her door. She could feel the fear consuming her, and the panic. She could only see the end of the road now.
Please God-
And then the door burst open, bringing the blinding light with it. She could hear shuffling, a grunt.
"The hell?" She felt her heart jump into her throat, and she forced her eyes open against the light. And she saw him.
Daryl.
He stood there, in the doorway, crossbow hanging at his side. He was scanning the room, but he didn't come in. He looked confused, and then glanced away. She felt panic strike her hard. Did he not see her?
"Daryl?" she croaked out, trying to get up, trying to get up. He turned back to the room, squinting into the darkness harder, and when his eyes finally landed on her she saw the shock, and the anger, and the hatred etch across his features. And before she could blink he was at her side, his hands running over her.
She couldn't breathe. He was here. He was here. He was touching her; those were his hands. And he was talking to her; that was his voice. Daryl was here. He had come for her.
"Carol – fuck – how –" he stammered incoherently, and she couldn't stop the sob that slipped passed her lips. He reached behind her back, and felt the bonds at her hands. His knife was there immediately cutting them away, and then she was being lifted away, in his arms.
She felt her chest constrict, and everything crashed into her.
The pain.
The suffering.
The waiting.
She realized that none of it mattered because right then, in that moment, she was in his arms. She could feel his heart beating fast against her chest, and his breath hitting her cheek in ragged puffs. And his arms held her tight against him, like he was never going to let her go.
"I ain't never lettin' you outta my sight again," he said harshly, as he moved quickly through the hall. She could hear the pain in his voice, and the way it caught at the end. He'd feared for her.
"Never."
He stepped outside, into the light of the day and when the light of the sun hit her face and his, lighting up the blue of his eyes, she had never wanted to thank God so much for this man.
But she just reached up, shakily, wrapping her arm around his neck to pull herself up to his face where she ran her cheek against his. The feel of his stubble scratching her, the warmth of his skin sending the tears down her cheeks anew.
She trembled in his arms. She had asked, had begged, had prayed for Daryl to find her, safely, and here he was. Holding her, in his arms.
Her lips brushed against his cheek, and then his ear, and then down to his neck where she let them linger. She buried her face there, letting her heart find time with the pulse of his blood.
And she had never felt more alive than now, had never felt more love than she did now.
"Never," she murmured fiercely, clutching her fingers in the leather at his neck. And his arms pulled her tighter against him, as the breath shuddered out of him and caressed her arm.
And with the sun shining down on them, and his heart beating fast against her, and the feeling of being safe filling her whole; she didn't want to be anywhere but in his arms.
A/N: I hope I have made you feel. I hope I have craved a need. If you'd leave a few words behind, before you go, I would love you.
